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Autobiography of Anthony Trollope
It may be well that I should put a short preface to this book. In the summer of 1878 my father told me that he had written a memoir of his own life. He did not speak about it at length, but said that he had written me a letter, not to be opened until after his death, containing instructions for publication. This letter was dated 30th April, 1876. I will give here as much of it as concerns the "I wish you to accept as a gift from me, given you now, the accompanying pages which contain a memoir of my life. My intention is that they shall be published after my death, and be edited by you. But I leave it altogether to your discretion whether to publish or to suppress the work;-and also to your discretion whether any part or what part shall be omitted. But I would not wish that anything should be added to the memoir. If you wish to say any word as from yourself, let it be done in the shape of a preface or introductory chapter." At the end there is a "The publication, if made at all, should be effected as soon as possible after my death." My father died on the 6th of December, 1882...
336 pages, Paperback
First published December 31, 1883
About the author
Anthony Trollope
1,622 books1,598 followersAnthony Trollope became one of the most successful, prolific and respected English novelists of the Victorian era. Some of Trollope's best-loved works, known as the Chronicles of Barsetshire, revolve around the imaginary county of Barsetshire; he also wrote penetrating novels on political, social, and gender issues and conflicts of his day.
Trollope has always been a popular novelist. Noted fans have included Sir Alec Guinness (who never travelled without a Trollope novel), former British Prime Ministers Harold Macmillan and Sir John Major, economist John Kenneth Galbraith, American novelists Sue Grafton and Dominick Dunne and soap opera writer Harding Lemay. Trollope's literary reputation dipped somewhat during the last years of his life, but he regained the esteem of critics by the mid-twentieth century.
See also http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anthony_...
Trollope has always been a popular novelist. Noted fans have included Sir Alec Guinness (who never travelled without a Trollope novel), former British Prime Ministers Harold Macmillan and Sir John Major, economist John Kenneth Galbraith, American novelists Sue Grafton and Dominick Dunne and soap opera writer Harding Lemay. Trollope's literary reputation dipped somewhat during the last years of his life, but he regained the esteem of critics by the mid-twentieth century.
See also http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anthony_...
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 81 reviews
May 29, 2007
Why is Trollope considered by many (not by me) to be a notch below other Victorian novelists? I think this book, his autobiography, is at least partly responsible. For in it Trollope demythologizes the profession of novelist. He talks about his businesslike approach to his writing. He regularly wrote 250 words every 15 minutes, and he wrote on schedule. When he was still at the post office (and he stayed there some time even after it became apparent that he would be able to live off his writing), he had a servant wake him up very early every morning so that he could get his writing done before he left for the office. If he finished a novel during a writing session, he began the next without putting down his pen. He did not permit his extensive travel to interfere with this routine; he wrote on trains and on ships.
What about inspiration? Bah, says Trollope. Does the cobbler go to his last and await inspiration before making his shoe? No, he makes shoes, because that is what a cobbler does. And a novelist writes novels, because that is what a novelist does. It is this shoemaker analogy that those who dislike Trollope (usually without having read him) cite. Most readers have a more romantic notion of what it means to be a novelist.
Trollope discusses the business side of writing, too. He invariably sold his copyrights outright to his publishers, never taking a participation in the profits, reasoning that the publisher would flog his novels more determinedly if the publisher received 100 percent of all the sales. And he systematically lists the amount for which he sold each of his novels. Again, not very romantic. But fascinating, if you ask me.
Trollope runs through all the novels he had written, telling his readers what he thought was good and bad about each of them. (Roughly fifteen of his novels are not discussed, because he wrote them after the autobiography.) This is interesting in its own right, but it was also interesting to see how often I disagreed with Trollope about the merits of his work.
He had an interesting life even aside from his writing. His father was a complete failure at the bar, and much of his childhood was miserable because of that -- unpaid tuition bills at his schools, hiding from creditors, even fleeing from them to Belgium for several years. It was his mother, Fanny, who saved the family financially, and with her pen, writing Domestic Manners of the Americans and several (now forgotten) novels.
But Trollope is matter-of-fact, sometimes even funny, about his miserable childhood. And then he begins to blossom at the post office, where he steadily rises in importance, eventually traveling throughout the world to negotiate postal treaties on behalf of England. (I had never thought about how a letter made it from England to, say, Vienna in the days before airplanes. Obviously, though, you need postal treaties with all the countries through which that letter must pass, and those treaties have to allocate the costs of delivery.)
Those travels enabled him to set his novels in places throughout the world. He also wrote several non-fiction books about those travels.
And he writes in his autobiography about his desire to serve his country in Parliament. He tells the story of his attempt to win election from the borough of Beverley. His defeat, and the corruption of electoral politics, obviously took a lot out of him; the pain was perhaps partially alleviated by the subsequent disenfranchisement of the borough because of its corruption.
Trollope left the manuscript of his autobiography in a desk drawer with instructions for his son Henry on publishing it after his death.
The autobiography is immensely fun to read. It would be best if you could hold off until you've read the 30-some-odd novels he had written before he wrote the autobiography. But who can wait that long?
What about inspiration? Bah, says Trollope. Does the cobbler go to his last and await inspiration before making his shoe? No, he makes shoes, because that is what a cobbler does. And a novelist writes novels, because that is what a novelist does. It is this shoemaker analogy that those who dislike Trollope (usually without having read him) cite. Most readers have a more romantic notion of what it means to be a novelist.
Trollope discusses the business side of writing, too. He invariably sold his copyrights outright to his publishers, never taking a participation in the profits, reasoning that the publisher would flog his novels more determinedly if the publisher received 100 percent of all the sales. And he systematically lists the amount for which he sold each of his novels. Again, not very romantic. But fascinating, if you ask me.
Trollope runs through all the novels he had written, telling his readers what he thought was good and bad about each of them. (Roughly fifteen of his novels are not discussed, because he wrote them after the autobiography.) This is interesting in its own right, but it was also interesting to see how often I disagreed with Trollope about the merits of his work.
He had an interesting life even aside from his writing. His father was a complete failure at the bar, and much of his childhood was miserable because of that -- unpaid tuition bills at his schools, hiding from creditors, even fleeing from them to Belgium for several years. It was his mother, Fanny, who saved the family financially, and with her pen, writing Domestic Manners of the Americans and several (now forgotten) novels.
But Trollope is matter-of-fact, sometimes even funny, about his miserable childhood. And then he begins to blossom at the post office, where he steadily rises in importance, eventually traveling throughout the world to negotiate postal treaties on behalf of England. (I had never thought about how a letter made it from England to, say, Vienna in the days before airplanes. Obviously, though, you need postal treaties with all the countries through which that letter must pass, and those treaties have to allocate the costs of delivery.)
Those travels enabled him to set his novels in places throughout the world. He also wrote several non-fiction books about those travels.
And he writes in his autobiography about his desire to serve his country in Parliament. He tells the story of his attempt to win election from the borough of Beverley. His defeat, and the corruption of electoral politics, obviously took a lot out of him; the pain was perhaps partially alleviated by the subsequent disenfranchisement of the borough because of its corruption.
Trollope left the manuscript of his autobiography in a desk drawer with instructions for his son Henry on publishing it after his death.
The autobiography is immensely fun to read. It would be best if you could hold off until you've read the 30-some-odd novels he had written before he wrote the autobiography. But who can wait that long?
August 14, 2021
I am unwilling to cease carrying out stuff with scrupulous attention to detail. I was not so full of it when younger but presently I am growing fatter on it. In the summer of 1878 Anthony Trollope told his elder son that he had written a memoir of his own life. How come that one hundred years after, though on a winter’s day, I came visiting this earth? :D This was the first paragraph of the Preface written by Henry M Trollope as linked to his father’s autobiography. Enough to make my eyes grow bigger and plunge myself accordingly into the book.
I have enjoyed it very much and surprisingly during the read I have felt very close to the man he was talking about in various stages of his life. I am candid to say that I was expecting to find some of his own letters too, printed within this work, but alas! he didn’t pass on any of his own letters, nor was it his wish that any should be published. In fact, this is not an autobiography about his personal life, like how we understand nowadays private affairs. This talks more about his literary works, performances, his views on the English novelists, on art, on literary criticism, how he set to writing various of his well-known novels, so on and so forth.
I was especially moved by the first 3 chapters on his Education, his Mother, also a prolific travel books author and novels’ writer, and about his kick-off period at the General Post Office. His early years was a very sorry story – he was wretched, and records years of sufferings, disgrace, inward remorse. I have been particularly struck that he felt himself as a Pariah even amongst his schoolfellows. Later other different horrors fell to his fate. He talks bitterly how he used to take a daily walk of 12 miles, for almost 2 years, through the lanes, to reach to his school. In various moments he even told that the indignities he endured are not be described, and he constantly repeated throughout his autobiography, that “something of the disgrace of my school-days has clung to me all through life…I acknowledge the weakness of a great desire to be loved, of a strong wish to be popular…”
I was astonished to find out that although the idea of university career was abandoned – due to lack of a scholarship – he managed to achieve his position in everything he has done later in life, by walking and working in his own words, “by gravitation upwards”
From being “an idle, desolate hanger-on, that most hopeless of human being” , he is becoming alive by choosing to start his “life-time” job at London General Post Office, first as a clerk, when surprisingly he was seated at a desk without any further reference to his competency, not even to look at his beautiful penmanship :)
I have followed with high pleasure his adventures during his official term in the civil service – his chief work at the beginning was the investigating of complaints made by the public as to postal matters. And, although he applied the 33 best years of his life to it, he strongly maintained his cherished determination to become a writer of novels. Fortunately, he was right in his own prophecies!
It is always very amusing to watch how a passion grows upon a man. I do see that with myself, too :D I loved that he was so preoccupied that poor people in most remote country places do get their letters fast and reliably. His professional enthusiasm is contagious. The Post Office grew upon him and forced itself into his affections. It got my eyes wet reading how he became intensely anxious that people should have their letters delivered to them punctually :) Really, some letters didn’t arrive at my side because of failures of Post Office! :(
I have enjoyed reading his thoughts in all the walks of life, but especially on how to better organize his workday so to be full of rewarding results, and especially, never to forget the force of the water drop that hollows the stone in the sense that a small daily task, if it be really daily, will beat the labours of a spasmodic Hercules, “it is the tortoise which always catches the hare. The hare has no chance. He loses more time in glorifying himself for a quick spurt than suffices for the tortoise to make half his journey.”
As for his works, I agree with his opinion that a novel should give a picture of common life enlivened by humour and sweetened by pathos. To make that picture worthy of attention, the canvas should be crowded with real portraits, not of individuals known to the world or to the author, but of created personages impregnated with traits of character which are known. The plot is but the vehicle for all this...There must, however, be a story…
His autobiography is a good place to learn much about his chief literary works. As he said, he has been impregnated with his own creations till it has been his only excitement to sit with the pen in his hand and to proceed with a rapid writing :) He believes that a man who thinks much of his words as he writes them will generally leave behind him work that smells of oil…
Though I don’t agree with some of his ideas (more or less, there was a bunch of them), I think there is wisdom in this counsel given, that "if it be necessary for you to live by your work, do not begin by trusting to literature. The career, when success has been achieved, is certainly very pleasant, but the agonies which are endured in the search for that success are often terrible"
These 3 chapters On Novels and the Art of Writing Them, On English Novelists of the Present Day, and On Criticism were really very interesting and worthy of notice. All the stories told there simply charm and touch the reader’s mind and heart. It makes the reader even shed a tear…
The book ends with a list of the books he has written, with the dates of publication and the sums he has received from them. I understand his point so well. In the end he lays claim to whatever merit should be accorded to him for persevering diligence in his profession. It is neither silly, nor arrogant.
I was very pleased with his delicious and energetic memoir towards which I experienced heart-felt admiration, so I will try to discover him through his novels now, hopefully I will be able to detect his own peculiar idiosyncrasy :)
I have enjoyed it very much and surprisingly during the read I have felt very close to the man he was talking about in various stages of his life. I am candid to say that I was expecting to find some of his own letters too, printed within this work, but alas! he didn’t pass on any of his own letters, nor was it his wish that any should be published. In fact, this is not an autobiography about his personal life, like how we understand nowadays private affairs. This talks more about his literary works, performances, his views on the English novelists, on art, on literary criticism, how he set to writing various of his well-known novels, so on and so forth.
I was especially moved by the first 3 chapters on his Education, his Mother, also a prolific travel books author and novels’ writer, and about his kick-off period at the General Post Office. His early years was a very sorry story – he was wretched, and records years of sufferings, disgrace, inward remorse. I have been particularly struck that he felt himself as a Pariah even amongst his schoolfellows. Later other different horrors fell to his fate. He talks bitterly how he used to take a daily walk of 12 miles, for almost 2 years, through the lanes, to reach to his school. In various moments he even told that the indignities he endured are not be described, and he constantly repeated throughout his autobiography, that “something of the disgrace of my school-days has clung to me all through life…I acknowledge the weakness of a great desire to be loved, of a strong wish to be popular…”
I was astonished to find out that although the idea of university career was abandoned – due to lack of a scholarship – he managed to achieve his position in everything he has done later in life, by walking and working in his own words, “by gravitation upwards”
From being “an idle, desolate hanger-on, that most hopeless of human being” , he is becoming alive by choosing to start his “life-time” job at London General Post Office, first as a clerk, when surprisingly he was seated at a desk without any further reference to his competency, not even to look at his beautiful penmanship :)
I have followed with high pleasure his adventures during his official term in the civil service – his chief work at the beginning was the investigating of complaints made by the public as to postal matters. And, although he applied the 33 best years of his life to it, he strongly maintained his cherished determination to become a writer of novels. Fortunately, he was right in his own prophecies!
It is always very amusing to watch how a passion grows upon a man. I do see that with myself, too :D I loved that he was so preoccupied that poor people in most remote country places do get their letters fast and reliably. His professional enthusiasm is contagious. The Post Office grew upon him and forced itself into his affections. It got my eyes wet reading how he became intensely anxious that people should have their letters delivered to them punctually :) Really, some letters didn’t arrive at my side because of failures of Post Office! :(
I have enjoyed reading his thoughts in all the walks of life, but especially on how to better organize his workday so to be full of rewarding results, and especially, never to forget the force of the water drop that hollows the stone in the sense that a small daily task, if it be really daily, will beat the labours of a spasmodic Hercules, “it is the tortoise which always catches the hare. The hare has no chance. He loses more time in glorifying himself for a quick spurt than suffices for the tortoise to make half his journey.”
As for his works, I agree with his opinion that a novel should give a picture of common life enlivened by humour and sweetened by pathos. To make that picture worthy of attention, the canvas should be crowded with real portraits, not of individuals known to the world or to the author, but of created personages impregnated with traits of character which are known. The plot is but the vehicle for all this...There must, however, be a story…
His autobiography is a good place to learn much about his chief literary works. As he said, he has been impregnated with his own creations till it has been his only excitement to sit with the pen in his hand and to proceed with a rapid writing :) He believes that a man who thinks much of his words as he writes them will generally leave behind him work that smells of oil…
Though I don’t agree with some of his ideas (more or less, there was a bunch of them), I think there is wisdom in this counsel given, that "if it be necessary for you to live by your work, do not begin by trusting to literature. The career, when success has been achieved, is certainly very pleasant, but the agonies which are endured in the search for that success are often terrible"
These 3 chapters On Novels and the Art of Writing Them, On English Novelists of the Present Day, and On Criticism were really very interesting and worthy of notice. All the stories told there simply charm and touch the reader’s mind and heart. It makes the reader even shed a tear…
The book ends with a list of the books he has written, with the dates of publication and the sums he has received from them. I understand his point so well. In the end he lays claim to whatever merit should be accorded to him for persevering diligence in his profession. It is neither silly, nor arrogant.
I was very pleased with his delicious and energetic memoir towards which I experienced heart-felt admiration, so I will try to discover him through his novels now, hopefully I will be able to detect his own peculiar idiosyncrasy :)
January 30, 2018
I really cannot believe how much I enjoyed this book. It was like having Trollope over for dinner and talking with him about his writing. You have to love a man whose characters are so real to him that he wonders what they're doing long after he finishes a novel. This is more of a literary autobiography than a personal one, there is very little about his personal life here, but everything about his novels; the how, the when, the why, and he even tells us how much he was paid for each one. Better enjoyed by those who have read several of his works, but as Pantagenet Palliser is his favorite character, and I have all the Palliser novels on my shelf to read, I can hardly wait to get to them now.
June 20, 2023
Free For Audible-UK-Plus members.
Search for Trollope: An Autobiography.
Maybe it's free or US members too--check it out!
Clearly narrated by Bernard Mayes. His tone, well fits the prose.
I like this. It is definitely worth reading. You get a feel for Trollope’s principles and values despite that at the start he clearly states that the book will not explore “his inner life”. He does not believe a person can give a full representation of themselves even if all that is said is 100% true! Trollope says little about his wife or his two sons. Instead, he talks about his carrier, his views on literature, how to deal with publishers and critics, how to meet deadlines successfully and how to nonstop deliver book after book. He speaks of his unhappy childhood bullied by classmates, ignored by adults and those responsible for his education and supervision. He speaks warmly of his love of hunting with the hounds and his diligence as a public servant employed in the postal service in Ireland for thirty-three years. One clearly sees traits of the mother in the son. Every morning she wrote from 4 A.M. He wrote at the crack of dawn too! Read this book in conjunction with Johanna Johnston’s The Life, Manners, and Travels of Fanny Trollope: A Biography!
There is a good dose of humor in the lines. Irony and “a dash of sarcasm” runs throughout. Off and on though, he gets a bit wordy and repetitive.
This is the first nonfictional work I’ve read by the author. He has several. He gave it to his son in 1878, four years prior to his demise in 1882, with the clear instructions that it was to be published as soon as possible after his death. In accordance with his son’s discretion, portions could be omitted but nothing other than a preface was to be added.
********************
Palliser Series :
1.Can You Forgive Her? 3 stars
2.Phineas Finn 4 stars
Standalones :
*The Vicar of Bullhampton 5 stars
*Orley Farm 4 stars
*An Old Man's Love 4 stars
*Miss Mackenzie 3 stars
*Autobiography of Anthony Trollope 3 stars
*Dr. Wortle's School 3 stars
*Sir Harry Hotspur Of Humblethwaite 2 stars
*The Way We Live Now 1 star
*The Claverings TBR
*The Life, Manners, and Travels of Fanny Trollope: A Biography 4 stars by Johanna Johnston
Chronicles of Barsetshire :
1.The Warden 3 stars
2.Barchester Towers 4 stars
3.Dr. Thorne 4 stars
4.Framley Parsonage 4 stars
5.The Small House at Allington 5 stars
6.The Last Chronicle of Barset 5 stars
Search for Trollope: An Autobiography.
Maybe it's free or US members too--check it out!
Clearly narrated by Bernard Mayes. His tone, well fits the prose.
I like this. It is definitely worth reading. You get a feel for Trollope’s principles and values despite that at the start he clearly states that the book will not explore “his inner life”. He does not believe a person can give a full representation of themselves even if all that is said is 100% true! Trollope says little about his wife or his two sons. Instead, he talks about his carrier, his views on literature, how to deal with publishers and critics, how to meet deadlines successfully and how to nonstop deliver book after book. He speaks of his unhappy childhood bullied by classmates, ignored by adults and those responsible for his education and supervision. He speaks warmly of his love of hunting with the hounds and his diligence as a public servant employed in the postal service in Ireland for thirty-three years. One clearly sees traits of the mother in the son. Every morning she wrote from 4 A.M. He wrote at the crack of dawn too! Read this book in conjunction with Johanna Johnston’s The Life, Manners, and Travels of Fanny Trollope: A Biography!
There is a good dose of humor in the lines. Irony and “a dash of sarcasm” runs throughout. Off and on though, he gets a bit wordy and repetitive.
This is the first nonfictional work I’ve read by the author. He has several. He gave it to his son in 1878, four years prior to his demise in 1882, with the clear instructions that it was to be published as soon as possible after his death. In accordance with his son’s discretion, portions could be omitted but nothing other than a preface was to be added.
********************
Palliser Series :
1.Can You Forgive Her? 3 stars
2.Phineas Finn 4 stars
Standalones :
*The Vicar of Bullhampton 5 stars
*Orley Farm 4 stars
*An Old Man's Love 4 stars
*Miss Mackenzie 3 stars
*Autobiography of Anthony Trollope 3 stars
*Dr. Wortle's School 3 stars
*Sir Harry Hotspur Of Humblethwaite 2 stars
*The Way We Live Now 1 star
*The Claverings TBR
*The Life, Manners, and Travels of Fanny Trollope: A Biography 4 stars by Johanna Johnston
Chronicles of Barsetshire :
1.The Warden 3 stars
2.Barchester Towers 4 stars
3.Dr. Thorne 4 stars
4.Framley Parsonage 4 stars
5.The Small House at Allington 5 stars
6.The Last Chronicle of Barset 5 stars
June 17, 2021
Within one week I read two books on productivity quoting this autobiography of Anthony Trollope and since I was also reading my umpteenth novel by him I sought this out. It was tricky to find but there is a very decent reading of it for free on Librivox by Jessica Louise.
Trollope's early life was devastatingly hard with misfortune after misfortune. This isn't at all like one of his escapist, laugh-out-loud novels and his life is impossible to make light work of. 'Harrow and Hardship' would be a great title. This autobiography, released after his death, explains his incredible work-ethic; sensitivity to the unfairness of life; admiration of those who live quietly and ethically; unique and informed insight into every part of the social and financial hierarchy; strong female characters and the very important need for a happy and just ending.
Trollope's early life was devastatingly hard with misfortune after misfortune. This isn't at all like one of his escapist, laugh-out-loud novels and his life is impossible to make light work of. 'Harrow and Hardship' would be a great title. This autobiography, released after his death, explains his incredible work-ethic; sensitivity to the unfairness of life; admiration of those who live quietly and ethically; unique and informed insight into every part of the social and financial hierarchy; strong female characters and the very important need for a happy and just ending.
February 21, 2017
While I have my sights set on reading all of Trollope's novels and short story collections, there are just a few of his nonfiction offerings that interest me. This is one. I wanted to make sure I had read enough to appreciate what he had to say. He finished it in 1876 - six years before he died - with instructions that it was not to be published until after his death.
It is primarily a biography of his literary life. The first chapter does review his childhood when he was poor and, for the most part, shunned by his schoolmates. No one wants to be poor and without friends. However, Trollope recognized that being so much alone had him making up stories and that it was as much this practice of using his imagination as anything that contributed to his success as an author. He had also kept a journal - practice, practice, practice.
I highlighted several passages. In another he says I have never troubled myself much about the construction of plots. He went on to reference how tight are the plots of Wilkie Collins, but that wasn't so much his focus.
It is primarily a biography of his literary life. The first chapter does review his childhood when he was poor and, for the most part, shunned by his schoolmates. No one wants to be poor and without friends. However, Trollope recognized that being so much alone had him making up stories and that it was as much this practice of using his imagination as anything that contributed to his success as an author. He had also kept a journal - practice, practice, practice.
I highlighted several passages. In another he says I have never troubled myself much about the construction of plots. He went on to reference how tight are the plots of Wilkie Collins, but that wasn't so much his focus.
A novel should give a picture of common life enlivened by humour and sweetened by pathos. To make that picture worthy of attention, the canvas should be crowded with real portraits, not of individuals known to the world or to the author, but of created personages impregnated with traits of character which are known. To my thinking, the plot is but the vehicle for all this; and when you have the vehicle without the passengers, a story of mystery in which the agents never spring to life, you have but a wooden show. There must, however, be a story. You must provide a vehicle of some sort.This is certainly why I love to read Trollope. His characterizations are marvelous. For me, this is at least a 4-star read, but I wouldn't recommend it for those who have not read at least several of his novels. Other than his childhood, there is very little of his personal life - he even just mentions casually that he married, and the mention of his children comes in the chapter after, chronologically, in which they were born.
October 12, 2021
Nel periodo vittoriano la scrittura autobiografica divenne una vera e propria arte, soprattutto perché si trattava di un genere che si caratterizzava come descrizione di un successo.
E proprio come sintetizza il curatore di questa edizione, è negli ultimi anni della sua vita che Trollope può permettersi il lusso di guardare all' animato palcoscenico del suo secolo con la soddisfazione di uscirne da indiscusso protagonista. Un autore magistrale che spero presto di poter portare avanti nelle opere rimaste da pubblicare nel ciclo politico (Sellerio aspettiamo te!)
E proprio come sintetizza il curatore di questa edizione, è negli ultimi anni della sua vita che Trollope può permettersi il lusso di guardare all' animato palcoscenico del suo secolo con la soddisfazione di uscirne da indiscusso protagonista. Un autore magistrale che spero presto di poter portare avanti nelle opere rimaste da pubblicare nel ciclo politico (Sellerio aspettiamo te!)
September 27, 2016
I am a great fan of Trollope’s work and have read almost all his books. That made his autobiography all the more enjoyable because I knew the books he was writing about and it was interesting to find out how they came to be written and especially that some of the material was based on Trollope’s own experiences. I am also grateful for Trollope’s extreme work ethic, of which he is obviously very proud, as it has made him produce so many books for us to enjoy.
April 3, 2015
Anthony Trollope (1815-1882) wrote his autobiography and gave instruction to his son to have it published after his death. Trollope was one of England’s pre-eminent and most prolific novelists. Trollope said “the novelist must please, but also teach and preach, conveying his system of ethics just as the clergyman does.”
Trollope starts with his early childhood and the problems he had in school with the bullies. His father was an attorney who quit to be a farmer and lost all his money. His mother wrote novels to support the family. He was the youngest of nine children.
Trollope worked for the British post office for 33 years. In the book he tells about his routine of starting writing at 5:30 a.m. and would write for three hours, have breakfast and go to work at the post office. When he was stationed in Ireland by the post office he met and married an Irish girl in 1844.
The book tells little of his personal life and that of his family. The book covers mostly about his writing, how he developed a plot from things he saw or places he went to. His wife proofed his manuscripts before they went to the publisher. I was surprised at how many books he wrote before they began to sell.
Overall, I found the book a most interesting insight into a writer. I read this as an audiobook downloaded from Audible. Flo Gibson narrated the book. I think a male narrator, such as John Lee, would have been better.
Trollope starts with his early childhood and the problems he had in school with the bullies. His father was an attorney who quit to be a farmer and lost all his money. His mother wrote novels to support the family. He was the youngest of nine children.
Trollope worked for the British post office for 33 years. In the book he tells about his routine of starting writing at 5:30 a.m. and would write for three hours, have breakfast and go to work at the post office. When he was stationed in Ireland by the post office he met and married an Irish girl in 1844.
The book tells little of his personal life and that of his family. The book covers mostly about his writing, how he developed a plot from things he saw or places he went to. His wife proofed his manuscripts before they went to the publisher. I was surprised at how many books he wrote before they began to sell.
Overall, I found the book a most interesting insight into a writer. I read this as an audiobook downloaded from Audible. Flo Gibson narrated the book. I think a male narrator, such as John Lee, would have been better.
Read
July 19, 2010I don't think this autobiography is going to appeal to non-writers, as Trollope delves not at all into his emotions or private experiences, focusing on his outer life, as it were, as post office official, hobby hunter, sometime politician, and writer. His wife and children get scant mention.
But he talks a great deal about writing. For any writer who likes writers on writing, this ought to be a fascinating read. He gets into details about the frustrations of publishing by serial, and he also details the financial side, keeping careful tabs on what he earned.
It's a sobering assessment for anyone who thinks that a lifetime of novel writing will make them rich. He was more successful than most, but he had to work a full time job at the Post Office most of his life (and on his retirement, showed the hurt that so many do when he discovered the work place, far from falling apart at the idea of his going away, demonstrated that they could do very well without him).
While I, and perhaps other modern readers, will not agree with his assessment of his own works, and why they are good, they will find his honest discussion of his failures interesting.
Of especial interest is his assessment of his fellow nineteenth century authors. He pegs Dickens beautifully for his ability to make you care for unrealistic characters (caricatures, in essence), and comments gently on George Eliot's penchant for letting her philosophizing get control of her plots, making some of her later stories almost impenetrable. (In this he's kinder than Henry James, who thoroughly appreciates her mind, and the insight of her female characters, while pointing out that few of her male characters are ever much more than watercolors, or sketches of ideals.)
He predicts who among the well-known writers will be well known in his grandchildren's time, and who won't, with near 100% accuracy, and he digs his quill into false critics who pander to authors, and authors who pander to critics, and how such a craving for instant fame doesn't work in the long run, even if it garners a flash of fulsome notoriety at the moment. It's peculiar, how much of this translates over to internet interactions, as writers are anxious to get their names and books out there, sometimes pushed into marketing themselves by publishers, without having any idea how to go about it. Writers had the same predicament back then.
At the last, he startles the reader with an anecdote about going out of his way as he crossed the USA to meet Brigham Young, and his being turned from Young's door. In the anecdote Young comes off looking uncouth, if not mad; Trollope finesses his reason for going to call on Young in the first place. There's a definite sense that Trollope regarded Young as a zoo creature, to be reported on for the amusement of people at home, identified as he is as "polygamist Brigham Young" instead of "religious leader Young" or whatever. But again, Trollope is reticent about exposing his inner motivations and emotions. He even comments about that near the end, and declaims any interest in such things.
Reading this in conjunction with the Glendenning biography can fill in some of the lacunae; meanwhile, the writing talk makes it a worthwhile read for writers, and of course for nineteenth century novel fans.
But he talks a great deal about writing. For any writer who likes writers on writing, this ought to be a fascinating read. He gets into details about the frustrations of publishing by serial, and he also details the financial side, keeping careful tabs on what he earned.
It's a sobering assessment for anyone who thinks that a lifetime of novel writing will make them rich. He was more successful than most, but he had to work a full time job at the Post Office most of his life (and on his retirement, showed the hurt that so many do when he discovered the work place, far from falling apart at the idea of his going away, demonstrated that they could do very well without him).
While I, and perhaps other modern readers, will not agree with his assessment of his own works, and why they are good, they will find his honest discussion of his failures interesting.
Of especial interest is his assessment of his fellow nineteenth century authors. He pegs Dickens beautifully for his ability to make you care for unrealistic characters (caricatures, in essence), and comments gently on George Eliot's penchant for letting her philosophizing get control of her plots, making some of her later stories almost impenetrable. (In this he's kinder than Henry James, who thoroughly appreciates her mind, and the insight of her female characters, while pointing out that few of her male characters are ever much more than watercolors, or sketches of ideals.)
He predicts who among the well-known writers will be well known in his grandchildren's time, and who won't, with near 100% accuracy, and he digs his quill into false critics who pander to authors, and authors who pander to critics, and how such a craving for instant fame doesn't work in the long run, even if it garners a flash of fulsome notoriety at the moment. It's peculiar, how much of this translates over to internet interactions, as writers are anxious to get their names and books out there, sometimes pushed into marketing themselves by publishers, without having any idea how to go about it. Writers had the same predicament back then.
At the last, he startles the reader with an anecdote about going out of his way as he crossed the USA to meet Brigham Young, and his being turned from Young's door. In the anecdote Young comes off looking uncouth, if not mad; Trollope finesses his reason for going to call on Young in the first place. There's a definite sense that Trollope regarded Young as a zoo creature, to be reported on for the amusement of people at home, identified as he is as "polygamist Brigham Young" instead of "religious leader Young" or whatever. But again, Trollope is reticent about exposing his inner motivations and emotions. He even comments about that near the end, and declaims any interest in such things.
Reading this in conjunction with the Glendenning biography can fill in some of the lacunae; meanwhile, the writing talk makes it a worthwhile read for writers, and of course for nineteenth century novel fans.
February 1, 2020
I really loved this autobiography!
August 24, 2015
Excellent writing (and the insight into his writing life was fascinating). Admirable work ethic and personal integrity. Pity he thought hunting foxes was amusing.
April 28, 2018
Una bella, esauriente, corposa autobiografia in cui Trollope parla di sé a 360° gradi, a cominciare dalla sua infanzia di bambino trascurato, povero, infelice, maltrattato anche dagli insegnanti e considerato quasi un paria. La sua fu una famiglia un po’ sui generis: il padre un gentiluomo colto, molto rigido ma dedito alla famiglia, aveva tutti i presupposti per riuscire bene nella vita, ma concluse molto poco: lascio l’attività forense per dedicarsi all’agricoltura, di cui non conosceva quasi nulla, con pessimi risultati. La madre sicuramente più intraprendente e capace, ad un certo punto emigrò negli Stai Uniti con il figlio maggiore per aprire un emporio, cosa che non si rivelò col tempo un buon affare. Ma una volta in Patria diede alle stampe un libro sugli usi e costumi degli Stati Uniti e ottenne un notevole successo che permise ai Trollope si risollevarsi un po’. Fu scrittrice prolifica e abbastanza dotata, mentre Il padre fu impegnato tutta la vita nella realizzazione di una monumentale Encyclopaedia Ecclesiastica, di cui riuscì a scrivere solo tre volumi degli otto stabiliti. Seguirono gli anni dolorosi di Bruges in cui tutta la famiglia si trasferì oberata dai debiti e dalla malattia che caus�� la morte per tisi di due suoi fratelli.
Quindi la sua fu vita di rivalsa, di riscatto personale e sociale. Il giovane Trollope, per la verità un po’ svogliato, con una formazione approssimativa, volle rifarsi da una grama esistenza che lo segnò al punto da impegnarsi sempre al massimo sia nella sua attività di scrittore che come funzionario delle Poste, dedicandosi con impegno e grande senso di responsabilità a tutto ciò che intraprendeva. In Irlanda la sua fortuna iniziò a cambiare, comincio ad avere una certa tranquillità economica, si sposò, il lavoro lo impegnava molto ma trovava il tempo anche per scrivere i suoi primi romanzi. Si può considerare uno stacanovista della penna, per tutta la vita si dedicò con rigore e metodo alla scrittura, ogni giorno, alle prime ore dell’alba, abitudine che lo accompagnò sempre, per tutta la vita. Ciò che traspare da quest’opera è il profilo di un uomo di grande rettitudine morale, un self-made man che quasi si compiace per i successi ottenuti, senza l’aiuto di nessuno, ma sempre molto critico verso se se stesso. Un uomo che viaggiò tanto, soprattutto per lavoro, e sui quali viaggi scrisse numerosi libri. Che si dedicava con slancio a quelli che erano le sue passioni: la caccia, il lavoro, la scrittura, la politica. Un’autobiografia che ad un certo punto vira verso il saggio nei capitoli in cui espone le sue tesi sulla critica letteraria, sul romanzo inglese e suoi romanzieri contemporanei.
Insomma uno scritto che sa di romanzo, il romanzo di una vita intensa che lo vide anche cimentarsi in politica, nell’editoria, con alterne fortune, ma sempre molto lucido, impegnato e intellettualmente onesto.
Quindi la sua fu vita di rivalsa, di riscatto personale e sociale. Il giovane Trollope, per la verità un po’ svogliato, con una formazione approssimativa, volle rifarsi da una grama esistenza che lo segnò al punto da impegnarsi sempre al massimo sia nella sua attività di scrittore che come funzionario delle Poste, dedicandosi con impegno e grande senso di responsabilità a tutto ciò che intraprendeva. In Irlanda la sua fortuna iniziò a cambiare, comincio ad avere una certa tranquillità economica, si sposò, il lavoro lo impegnava molto ma trovava il tempo anche per scrivere i suoi primi romanzi. Si può considerare uno stacanovista della penna, per tutta la vita si dedicò con rigore e metodo alla scrittura, ogni giorno, alle prime ore dell’alba, abitudine che lo accompagnò sempre, per tutta la vita. Ciò che traspare da quest’opera è il profilo di un uomo di grande rettitudine morale, un self-made man che quasi si compiace per i successi ottenuti, senza l’aiuto di nessuno, ma sempre molto critico verso se se stesso. Un uomo che viaggiò tanto, soprattutto per lavoro, e sui quali viaggi scrisse numerosi libri. Che si dedicava con slancio a quelli che erano le sue passioni: la caccia, il lavoro, la scrittura, la politica. Un’autobiografia che ad un certo punto vira verso il saggio nei capitoli in cui espone le sue tesi sulla critica letteraria, sul romanzo inglese e suoi romanzieri contemporanei.
Insomma uno scritto che sa di romanzo, il romanzo di una vita intensa che lo vide anche cimentarsi in politica, nell’editoria, con alterne fortune, ma sempre molto lucido, impegnato e intellettualmente onesto.
July 23, 2018
I like this man! There was so much in this autobiography that rang true, that was insightful and that matched my own work experience.
His early childhood experiences are graphic and disturbing. His own immaturity contributed to some of the pain experienced, yet, the bullying and shame he felt in his appearance could have destroyed a weaker person. English literature is full of the horrors of English boarding school. The horrors are described by many a biographer, among them Winston Churchill. This reviewer cannot imagine in early life being torn from the bosom of family and isolated in a hostile environment, threatened by facility and students with bodily and emotional harm.
Trollope tells us that he learned little during his early schooling, yet, his subsequent achievements are substantial. This autobiography leaves the reader with some confusion on this subject and maybe it can be attributed to the authors modesty. Beginning with the wonderings of an immature young man with little education, his eventual work achievements are amazing. He advanced rapidly in his Post office career, even his early postings were responsible positions, and as he states, he was considered a valued employee. It is more amazing when he describes going to Egypt, Cuba, The West indies and America to procure treaties and mutual agreements on behalf of the English Postal Service. The how in his leap in responsibility and sophistication is never explained. Representing your government to a foreign government and executing important agreements is very important work that requires somewhat of a Statesman. Trollope does little to explain how he did these things. Questions such as were legal teams involved? Did he have experts accompanying him? All is left to the readers imagination. He went to America and had dinner with Secretary of State Seward, was he representing England? If not, how did he gain such access? If there is weakness in this autobiography, it can be noticed in what is left unsaid.
Trollope describes his decision to write novels as a need to supplement his government salary. He is very clear when he states that the pursuit of money to his way of thinking is a noble thing and it influenced his prolific output. Early in the autobiography he tells us that his mother supported the family by writing, so this choice to write to gain financial security was inspired by his mother.
This reviewer has had experience with bureaucratic government employment and can only chuckle when Trollope describes managers whose only focus is on when you come to work and when you leave. A bureaucratic career can be mind numbing and full of frustration for someone who takes pride in work and achievement. He describes the boredom of constant travel and how it provided him the opportunity to write. He is quite adamant in stating that his love of horses and his writing in no way impaired his labors on behalf of the Post Office, it seems quite clear that he satisfied his supervisors. This reviewer believes that to avoid the many pitfalls of a long bureaucratic career, you must have other interests that keep your mind fresh and your morale high and Trollope was able to satisfy his interests as well as his government supervisors.
Trollope does some preaching in the chapter on criticism and it becomes a little boring making the reader scurry through the chapter, things than smooth out again when he discussed his decision to make a run for a seat in Parliament. In typical Trollope fashion he describes the torture of the political campaign and the personal and financial cost. In his way of being true to the nature of things, he describes how if he succeeded in securing a seat he would have had to control his need to speak out and worse subjugate himself to Party. His voice would be a 1/660 participation and that just was not him, so with luck, he lost in his quest for a seat. What he gained was experience in the political arena which he augmented by sitting in Parliament for several months as an observer. The impact on his writing was well developed political characters in his subsequent books.
In the final stages of this autobiography, he discusses his favorite characters with many appearing in different books. He took great care to ensure that they evolved with age as his books over time advanced the stories. This reviewer has read Phineas Redux prior to this autobiography. Phineas Finn, I believe was an alter ego of Trollope who ran for a seat in parliament, chased the fox and had a charm admired by the ladies. Trollope’s claim was that he had other favorites, some he had to kill off, yet, others prospered in his writings. He prided himself on well developed characters and felt that this was as important as a good plot.
Trollope deliberately did not record the inner life, he performed no self-analysis. As I stated in the beginning, I liked this guy, I would love to have shared a sherry with him and discussed his books, his horses and his amazing career. I would recommend that reading any number of his works would be beneficial before the autobiography is under taken. The autobiography talks about some of his writing and characters, so by reading a book or two first will provide a good perspective before you tackle Trollope, as described by Anthony Trollope.
His early childhood experiences are graphic and disturbing. His own immaturity contributed to some of the pain experienced, yet, the bullying and shame he felt in his appearance could have destroyed a weaker person. English literature is full of the horrors of English boarding school. The horrors are described by many a biographer, among them Winston Churchill. This reviewer cannot imagine in early life being torn from the bosom of family and isolated in a hostile environment, threatened by facility and students with bodily and emotional harm.
Trollope tells us that he learned little during his early schooling, yet, his subsequent achievements are substantial. This autobiography leaves the reader with some confusion on this subject and maybe it can be attributed to the authors modesty. Beginning with the wonderings of an immature young man with little education, his eventual work achievements are amazing. He advanced rapidly in his Post office career, even his early postings were responsible positions, and as he states, he was considered a valued employee. It is more amazing when he describes going to Egypt, Cuba, The West indies and America to procure treaties and mutual agreements on behalf of the English Postal Service. The how in his leap in responsibility and sophistication is never explained. Representing your government to a foreign government and executing important agreements is very important work that requires somewhat of a Statesman. Trollope does little to explain how he did these things. Questions such as were legal teams involved? Did he have experts accompanying him? All is left to the readers imagination. He went to America and had dinner with Secretary of State Seward, was he representing England? If not, how did he gain such access? If there is weakness in this autobiography, it can be noticed in what is left unsaid.
Trollope describes his decision to write novels as a need to supplement his government salary. He is very clear when he states that the pursuit of money to his way of thinking is a noble thing and it influenced his prolific output. Early in the autobiography he tells us that his mother supported the family by writing, so this choice to write to gain financial security was inspired by his mother.
This reviewer has had experience with bureaucratic government employment and can only chuckle when Trollope describes managers whose only focus is on when you come to work and when you leave. A bureaucratic career can be mind numbing and full of frustration for someone who takes pride in work and achievement. He describes the boredom of constant travel and how it provided him the opportunity to write. He is quite adamant in stating that his love of horses and his writing in no way impaired his labors on behalf of the Post Office, it seems quite clear that he satisfied his supervisors. This reviewer believes that to avoid the many pitfalls of a long bureaucratic career, you must have other interests that keep your mind fresh and your morale high and Trollope was able to satisfy his interests as well as his government supervisors.
Trollope does some preaching in the chapter on criticism and it becomes a little boring making the reader scurry through the chapter, things than smooth out again when he discussed his decision to make a run for a seat in Parliament. In typical Trollope fashion he describes the torture of the political campaign and the personal and financial cost. In his way of being true to the nature of things, he describes how if he succeeded in securing a seat he would have had to control his need to speak out and worse subjugate himself to Party. His voice would be a 1/660 participation and that just was not him, so with luck, he lost in his quest for a seat. What he gained was experience in the political arena which he augmented by sitting in Parliament for several months as an observer. The impact on his writing was well developed political characters in his subsequent books.
In the final stages of this autobiography, he discusses his favorite characters with many appearing in different books. He took great care to ensure that they evolved with age as his books over time advanced the stories. This reviewer has read Phineas Redux prior to this autobiography. Phineas Finn, I believe was an alter ego of Trollope who ran for a seat in parliament, chased the fox and had a charm admired by the ladies. Trollope’s claim was that he had other favorites, some he had to kill off, yet, others prospered in his writings. He prided himself on well developed characters and felt that this was as important as a good plot.
Trollope deliberately did not record the inner life, he performed no self-analysis. As I stated in the beginning, I liked this guy, I would love to have shared a sherry with him and discussed his books, his horses and his amazing career. I would recommend that reading any number of his works would be beneficial before the autobiography is under taken. The autobiography talks about some of his writing and characters, so by reading a book or two first will provide a good perspective before you tackle Trollope, as described by Anthony Trollope.
April 15, 2014
"The romance may be gone but the rich reality of life you can still taste and savour."
These are Trollope's words, and will serve as a good guide to any who read this quirky, sometimes frustrating, and yet constantly candid autobiography.
In this autobiography the reader learns of Trollope's literally painful early school days, his own candid, often self-critical analysis of his own characters and novels, his reflections and personal assessments of his Victorian writing peers and the inner workings of the early British postal service.
As well, the autobiography certainly establishes Trollope as the most travelled of his contemporaries (5 trips to America, one trans U.S. land trip, 2 visits to Australia and one to the Caribbean.) In addition, if any reader ever wants to peer over the shoulder of a disciplined, time conscious writer, this autobiography is for you. I have often wondered why Trollope included so many fox-hunting scenes and chapters in his novels. The answer clearly resides within the pages of this book.
This book is unlike any biography or autobiography I have ever read. I am always cautious about autobiographies as I wonder how many filters of revision exist and how much influence a "ghost writer's" hand painted the final book. To me, too many biographies become massive psychological studies, or footnote saturated pages of arcane information.
Anthony Trollope's autobiography is in a class by itself, and is a text that all interested readers of Trollope should consider reading.
These are Trollope's words, and will serve as a good guide to any who read this quirky, sometimes frustrating, and yet constantly candid autobiography.
In this autobiography the reader learns of Trollope's literally painful early school days, his own candid, often self-critical analysis of his own characters and novels, his reflections and personal assessments of his Victorian writing peers and the inner workings of the early British postal service.
As well, the autobiography certainly establishes Trollope as the most travelled of his contemporaries (5 trips to America, one trans U.S. land trip, 2 visits to Australia and one to the Caribbean.) In addition, if any reader ever wants to peer over the shoulder of a disciplined, time conscious writer, this autobiography is for you. I have often wondered why Trollope included so many fox-hunting scenes and chapters in his novels. The answer clearly resides within the pages of this book.
This book is unlike any biography or autobiography I have ever read. I am always cautious about autobiographies as I wonder how many filters of revision exist and how much influence a "ghost writer's" hand painted the final book. To me, too many biographies become massive psychological studies, or footnote saturated pages of arcane information.
Anthony Trollope's autobiography is in a class by itself, and is a text that all interested readers of Trollope should consider reading.
September 13, 2018
For the last few years I have been trying to work my way through Trollope's works. I've read 10 novels, and now Trollope's Autobiography. The New Lifetime Reading Plan: The Classic Guide to World Literature, Revised and Expanded lists it as one of Trollope's books to read. It seems as though everyone has a favorite Trollope. The "books you should read" lists differ on which one of his 47 novels are the best. My personal favorite, still, is Doctor Thorne (the third book in the Barsetshire series).
Although Autobiography is not my favorite Trollope, I am glad I read it. Not only does he discuss his early life, career as a postal worker, travels and his writings, but he also discusses the best authors of his time (according to him): Thackery, Dickens, George Eliot. In different chapters of this work he says Pride and Prejudice is the best novel, in another chapter he says that The History of Henry Esmond, Esq., by Thackery, is the best novel of his time.
Now that I've had a break from Trollope's novels, I'll return to his Palliser series.
Although Autobiography is not my favorite Trollope, I am glad I read it. Not only does he discuss his early life, career as a postal worker, travels and his writings, but he also discusses the best authors of his time (according to him): Thackery, Dickens, George Eliot. In different chapters of this work he says Pride and Prejudice is the best novel, in another chapter he says that The History of Henry Esmond, Esq., by Thackery, is the best novel of his time.
Now that I've had a break from Trollope's novels, I'll return to his Palliser series.
April 20, 2012
I am well into this book at this point. What a beautiful, honest, down to earth, and humble man Anthony Trollope was; and kind, he was so very kind. Wish I could have met him, impossible not to love the man.
December 15, 2021
Trollope wrote his autobiography in 1876 and left it for his son to publish posthumously in 1883. He provides a frank accounting of the merits (and demerits) of his own novels and those of his contemporaries like Thackeray, Eliot, Dickens, and Collins. His favorite novel is Pride and Prejudice! Lots of interesting details about his 33-year career in the postal service. I enjoyed this but would recommend it to almost no one that I know.
I love this ending: “That I can read and be happy while I am reading is a great blessing. Could I have remembered, as some men do, what I read I should have been able to call myself an educated man. But that power I have never possessed. Something is always left—something dim and inaccurate—but still something sufficient to preserve the taste for more” (228).
I love this ending: “That I can read and be happy while I am reading is a great blessing. Could I have remembered, as some men do, what I read I should have been able to call myself an educated man. But that power I have never possessed. Something is always left—something dim and inaccurate—but still something sufficient to preserve the taste for more” (228).
May 5, 2019
Anthony Trollope is a favourite of my dad's, but even he said the books were good to read if 'you're having trouble sleeping.' So I really didn't expect to find a man who is likeable and funny, whose view of the world, other authors, attitude to life pretty much match my own. There's good stuff on how to write (or how to do anything you love, and be successful at it).
All in all an unexpected joy, though there is the nagging thought that that's because I've managed to become as tedious as he is in my old age :)
There's a great audio book version of this on Librivox read by Jessica Louise.
All in all an unexpected joy, though there is the nagging thought that that's because I've managed to become as tedious as he is in my old age :)
There's a great audio book version of this on Librivox read by Jessica Louise.
May 28, 2019
I was surprised at how much I enjoyed this book. It is focused largely on Trollope's career and productions as an author with minimal personal/emotional/family details, but his personality comes through, and gives one the sense of getting to spend time with a respectable, conscientious and thoroughly British old man who is eager to give advice to aspiring young authors. I listened to the audiobook on Google podcasts, which was read by a young American woman, and somehow she did an excellent job of communicating this sense!
"I do lay claim to whatever merit should be accorded to me for persevering diligence in my profession. And I make the claim, not with a view to my own glory, but for the benefit of those who may read these pages, and when young may intend to follow the same career. Nulla dies sine lineâ. Let that be their motto. And let their work be to them as is his common work to the common labourer. No gigantic efforts will then be necessary. He need tie no wet towels round his brow, nor sit for thirty hours at his desk without moving,—as men have sat, or said that they have sat. More than nine-tenths of my literary work has been done in the last twenty years, and during twelve of those years I followed another profession. I have never been a slave to this work, giving due time, if not more than due time, to the amusements I have loved. But I have been constant,—and constancy in labour will conquer all difficulties."
"That I can read and be happy while I am reading, is a great blessing."
(quotes copied from Gutenberg.org)
"I do lay claim to whatever merit should be accorded to me for persevering diligence in my profession. And I make the claim, not with a view to my own glory, but for the benefit of those who may read these pages, and when young may intend to follow the same career. Nulla dies sine lineâ. Let that be their motto. And let their work be to them as is his common work to the common labourer. No gigantic efforts will then be necessary. He need tie no wet towels round his brow, nor sit for thirty hours at his desk without moving,—as men have sat, or said that they have sat. More than nine-tenths of my literary work has been done in the last twenty years, and during twelve of those years I followed another profession. I have never been a slave to this work, giving due time, if not more than due time, to the amusements I have loved. But I have been constant,—and constancy in labour will conquer all difficulties."
"That I can read and be happy while I am reading, is a great blessing."
(quotes copied from Gutenberg.org)
January 9, 2022
I have to agree with my sister that Trollope's Autobiography is for diehard fans. Having read 23 of his novels, I put myself in that category, and, still, this book was an occasional slog.
He begins with his painful childhood and how his mother was forced to write novels to keep the family afloat. He gives details of how he began his career in the post office at age nineteen, and how he managed to juggle that (later) with his love for hunting and with his novel writing. He famously explains how he wrote a certain number of pages each day, debunking the idea that authors can have writer's block.
He recalls his different books and how long they took to write and how much he got paid for them Sometimes he compares how he felt about them with what the public felt about them. (He cared very little for public opinion.)
Chapter Thirteen was a commentary on fellow Victorian novelists and includes Trollope’s fascinating predictions of who would last and who would fade away. Although parts of this book were tedious, I was sad when it was over. The narrator, Bernard Mayes (with his grandfatherly British voice), did such a good job that I felt like I had just had a long conversation with a good friend that suddenly came to an end.
He begins with his painful childhood and how his mother was forced to write novels to keep the family afloat. He gives details of how he began his career in the post office at age nineteen, and how he managed to juggle that (later) with his love for hunting and with his novel writing. He famously explains how he wrote a certain number of pages each day, debunking the idea that authors can have writer's block.
He recalls his different books and how long they took to write and how much he got paid for them Sometimes he compares how he felt about them with what the public felt about them. (He cared very little for public opinion.)
Chapter Thirteen was a commentary on fellow Victorian novelists and includes Trollope’s fascinating predictions of who would last and who would fade away. Although parts of this book were tedious, I was sad when it was over. The narrator, Bernard Mayes (with his grandfatherly British voice), did such a good job that I felt like I had just had a long conversation with a good friend that suddenly came to an end.
August 11, 2016
An idiosyncratic historical document, this book has two elements that make it a must for would-be writers.
1.) Trollope, one of the most prolific writers of English prose, details his working method and supplies ample advice to novices.
and, more importantly,
2.) He vigorously attacks the ideological notion that an artist must work without thought of financial well-being. This has always bothered me and I feel that any artist who says otherwise is a liar...or rich.
For puncturing the mystique that people have about the craft (nobody ever wants to see how the sausage is made), his stature in English letters dropped dramatically after this book's publication. A testament to the heretofore untold truths it contains.
These factors and the book's simple, plain style recommend it above the infuriatingly conservative but, even worse, boring musings on the duty of an artist to protect society and culture.
1.) Trollope, one of the most prolific writers of English prose, details his working method and supplies ample advice to novices.
and, more importantly,
2.) He vigorously attacks the ideological notion that an artist must work without thought of financial well-being. This has always bothered me and I feel that any artist who says otherwise is a liar...or rich.
For puncturing the mystique that people have about the craft (nobody ever wants to see how the sausage is made), his stature in English letters dropped dramatically after this book's publication. A testament to the heretofore untold truths it contains.
These factors and the book's simple, plain style recommend it above the infuriatingly conservative but, even worse, boring musings on the duty of an artist to protect society and culture.
January 19, 2011
Generally, I like autobiographies and biographies about authors - since I write. But this was a hard book to move through.
Trollope had a difficult early life ... and never seemed to find happiness or real joy in his later life, despite realizing many of his goals.
He seemed like the sort of man who just sort of sucked the joy out of any day with melancholy and over-thinking and negative comparisons.
Naturally, if I were writing a college paper, I know I could have found profound things to say of this work ... but, just as reader wanting a book to
sink into and learn from - to be inspired from - No. Skip this one unless you're doing scholarly research.
Trollope had a difficult early life ... and never seemed to find happiness or real joy in his later life, despite realizing many of his goals.
He seemed like the sort of man who just sort of sucked the joy out of any day with melancholy and over-thinking and negative comparisons.
Naturally, if I were writing a college paper, I know I could have found profound things to say of this work ... but, just as reader wanting a book to
sink into and learn from - to be inspired from - No. Skip this one unless you're doing scholarly research.
January 25, 2010
Unfortunately I have to say that I liked Trollope and his works much better before I read this. It is interesting, no doubt--but the man himself is rather unappealing, thoroughly self-important, lacking in confidence, and vindictive. It is more a discussion of his works and his theory on work than a thorough autobiography. Still, of course, it is a must-read for Trollopian fans.
January 6, 2013
Rather an odd book. Not really an autobiography, in that it is quite reticent about his private life. Lots of digressions on writing and literature, which provide insights into Trollope as a writer, and you certainly get a sense of how Trollope viewed himself as a person, but it’s also kind of unsatisfying.
June 4, 2013
Alternates between fascinating and skippable. Trollope is famed for churning out the novels while inventing the postbox (etc), and while he undoubtedly worked hard and consistently, 19th century office hours (at least for gentlemen) seem to have been 10-4.
The chapter on fallen women is particularly Victorian.
The chapter on fallen women is particularly Victorian.
August 22, 2016
This book was mostly very engaging, thought there were some rather dry spells. Trollope's early years are fascinating, his work ethic truly remarkable, and his output staggering. Lucky for me, since I so love his books.
April 19, 2021
i absolutely LOVED this book.
i have never read anything by Anthony Trollope, and i knew nothing of his life or his books (except that a character in Graham Greene's The Human Factor, a high-up spy administrator who was married to a rich gringa) liked them.
if i, therefore, could love this, i can't imagine what it must be like for people who have read the books that Trollope mentions and explains and critiques... freaking orgasmic!
i want to be Trollope. i wish i had read this when i was 16 and thinking of becoming a writer. i think every person all across the globe who shows an inclination towards the writer's life should be made to read this book. it should be translated into every written language. alas, i didn't become a writer and i seldom write anything but these goodreads reviews at this point in my life, when for years i never felt better than when i was writing... perhaps my low-level dysthymia comes from my incapacity to dedicate myself to writing the way Trollope did.
Trollope's ideas on novels, on writing as a profession, on politics and government, and on "the present" versus the past, are so lucid and brilliant and universally human that they should also be given to high school students in philosophy, literature and politics classes.
maybe many of his novels are subpar--he very openly says which of his novels "failed" as novels because they didn't stir readers--boring characters, too many stories, plots unraveling before their time, etc., so i will avoid those directly--but it seems that many are, like i saw somewhere, comparable to Jane Austen's. Trollope makes me want to be British, for christ's sake. he makes me love British literature even more than i already do, and i think British literature is my favorite literature, i love so many books written by British authors that i know that my world-view and much of my thinking and my understanding of the world has been colored and informed by Brits (and adopted Brits, or, maybe just Joseph Conrad). I have read and loved and thoroughly enjoyed books written by US authors and Spaniards and Argentines and Japanese and Chinese and Egyptian and French and Jamaicans and Germans and Austrians and Nigerians and Indians and Uruguayans and Chileans and Colombians and Mexicans and Cubans and Canadians and Russians and Turks and Greeks and Italians and Poles and Scandinavians (sorry if i can't tell from which country they were) and others (and, to be honest, many of these plurals should really be singulars, as in, one Egyptian author and one Jamaican, but hey, whatever). But the greatest contingent by far are Brits, from many time periods and both sexes and including second generation immigrants and "mixed" origins... and the only author that has made me WISH i was british, is Trollope.
i had fun and i learned a lot. and i want to read something by his mother and his sister and his brother and his second sister-in-law (the first was a poet, so...). i am sorry if i don't look for his father's unfinished encyclopedia of ecclesiastical terms... and his son, if i am to take his father's word, did not seem to be a very promising writer so maybe i will skip him too...
i have never read anything by Anthony Trollope, and i knew nothing of his life or his books (except that a character in Graham Greene's The Human Factor, a high-up spy administrator who was married to a rich gringa) liked them.
if i, therefore, could love this, i can't imagine what it must be like for people who have read the books that Trollope mentions and explains and critiques... freaking orgasmic!
i want to be Trollope. i wish i had read this when i was 16 and thinking of becoming a writer. i think every person all across the globe who shows an inclination towards the writer's life should be made to read this book. it should be translated into every written language. alas, i didn't become a writer and i seldom write anything but these goodreads reviews at this point in my life, when for years i never felt better than when i was writing... perhaps my low-level dysthymia comes from my incapacity to dedicate myself to writing the way Trollope did.
Trollope's ideas on novels, on writing as a profession, on politics and government, and on "the present" versus the past, are so lucid and brilliant and universally human that they should also be given to high school students in philosophy, literature and politics classes.
maybe many of his novels are subpar--he very openly says which of his novels "failed" as novels because they didn't stir readers--boring characters, too many stories, plots unraveling before their time, etc., so i will avoid those directly--but it seems that many are, like i saw somewhere, comparable to Jane Austen's. Trollope makes me want to be British, for christ's sake. he makes me love British literature even more than i already do, and i think British literature is my favorite literature, i love so many books written by British authors that i know that my world-view and much of my thinking and my understanding of the world has been colored and informed by Brits (and adopted Brits, or, maybe just Joseph Conrad). I have read and loved and thoroughly enjoyed books written by US authors and Spaniards and Argentines and Japanese and Chinese and Egyptian and French and Jamaicans and Germans and Austrians and Nigerians and Indians and Uruguayans and Chileans and Colombians and Mexicans and Cubans and Canadians and Russians and Turks and Greeks and Italians and Poles and Scandinavians (sorry if i can't tell from which country they were) and others (and, to be honest, many of these plurals should really be singulars, as in, one Egyptian author and one Jamaican, but hey, whatever). But the greatest contingent by far are Brits, from many time periods and both sexes and including second generation immigrants and "mixed" origins... and the only author that has made me WISH i was british, is Trollope.
i had fun and i learned a lot. and i want to read something by his mother and his sister and his brother and his second sister-in-law (the first was a poet, so...). i am sorry if i don't look for his father's unfinished encyclopedia of ecclesiastical terms... and his son, if i am to take his father's word, did not seem to be a very promising writer so maybe i will skip him too...
August 2, 2017
Anthony Trollope’s Autobiography was the third book I read this year as part of my Trollope project. I am committed to read four books by Trollope this year, but the summer is winding down with several especially long novels ahead of me in the Chronicles of Barsetshire. So, I chose An Autobiography primarily because it was shorter than those behemoths. I’m actually very happy that I read it because I enjoyed it thoroughly, and it added to my estimation of Trollope (which is pretty healthy as we head toward the end of this summer).
I enjoyed several things about this book:
1. Trollope overcame a lot. From other sources that I’ve read, I know that Trollope underwent even more than he reports in this autobiography, but he really did have a difficult beginning to his life. His family went through some pretty impoverished spells and were often forced to go running from down in order to escape Trollope’s father’s creditors. In school, Trollope was bullied mercilessly by his classmates, teachers, and brothers. Anthony himself was something of a failure at school. Despite his father’s high hopes, he never got into a college. Anyway, Trollope tells his story in a very casual way, and with a touch of humor, so that it doesn’t feel whiney, and in the end, I found it to be pretty affecting.
2. I loved Trollope’s breakdown of his writing process. Trollope famously wrote to a schedule (since he had a day job) and at an enormous pace. I doubt that I could ever keep such a rigorous schedule as Trollope, but his career is a testament to the power of good habits and everyday diligence.
3. I also enjoyed reading Trollope’s thoughts on his art. He was so lacking in pretension. He had no grand theory of his work. He just sought to imagine characters in minute detail, and if he had a good story, he would tell it. If he didn’t have a good story, he wouldn’t force it. Trollope, too, thought that he had a responsibility to not be sensational, particularly to have heroes who are decently moral. It all worked for him.
4. Finally, I just tend to like Trollope himself. Reading the autobiography isn’t entirely unlike reading his novels. Trollope strikes me as a person who had an essential good humor to him and lived his life pleasantly surprised that it had turned out happy and well. I think that something of his gaiety imbued both his life and his novels, and it makes this a good read.
On the whole, I will admit that An Autobiography has some parts that drag, and I’m not sure I would recommend this book to a lot of people who aren’t Trollope devotees. It added to my appreciation of Trollope, though, and I think I’ll enjoy his novels even more for having read it.
I enjoyed several things about this book:
1. Trollope overcame a lot. From other sources that I’ve read, I know that Trollope underwent even more than he reports in this autobiography, but he really did have a difficult beginning to his life. His family went through some pretty impoverished spells and were often forced to go running from down in order to escape Trollope’s father’s creditors. In school, Trollope was bullied mercilessly by his classmates, teachers, and brothers. Anthony himself was something of a failure at school. Despite his father’s high hopes, he never got into a college. Anyway, Trollope tells his story in a very casual way, and with a touch of humor, so that it doesn’t feel whiney, and in the end, I found it to be pretty affecting.
2. I loved Trollope’s breakdown of his writing process. Trollope famously wrote to a schedule (since he had a day job) and at an enormous pace. I doubt that I could ever keep such a rigorous schedule as Trollope, but his career is a testament to the power of good habits and everyday diligence.
3. I also enjoyed reading Trollope’s thoughts on his art. He was so lacking in pretension. He had no grand theory of his work. He just sought to imagine characters in minute detail, and if he had a good story, he would tell it. If he didn’t have a good story, he wouldn’t force it. Trollope, too, thought that he had a responsibility to not be sensational, particularly to have heroes who are decently moral. It all worked for him.
4. Finally, I just tend to like Trollope himself. Reading the autobiography isn’t entirely unlike reading his novels. Trollope strikes me as a person who had an essential good humor to him and lived his life pleasantly surprised that it had turned out happy and well. I think that something of his gaiety imbued both his life and his novels, and it makes this a good read.
On the whole, I will admit that An Autobiography has some parts that drag, and I’m not sure I would recommend this book to a lot of people who aren’t Trollope devotees. It added to my appreciation of Trollope, though, and I think I’ll enjoy his novels even more for having read it.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 23, 2018
C. S. Lewis said, "Shall we, perhaps, in Purgatory, see our own faces and hear our own voices as they really were?" (Reflections on the Psalms). That's how I feel about this book: there's nothing wrong, outrageous, or poorly written. It reads how I might write about myself: with the growing realization that while I have a few good points to make, maybe my life is not that interesting.
The interesting part of the book is, as I'm sure others note, chapters 6 and 7. Trollope argues that artists, and writers in particular, should value discipline over "inspiration". In no uncertain terms, he says that any other profession is expected to work each day and have at least some output -why are writers exempt? I gather he made plenty of people mad about this, and he probably still does, but it's a great point and I think he's exactly right.
Otherwise, this book is quite dry, and I skimmed the last few chapters. Trollope writes about himself in a somewhat disinterested way that is sometimes refreshing but usually dull. Occasionally he makes a good observation - like writers should discipline themselves to write every day - but otherwise you're trudging through a man's thoughts on his normal life. The early chapters especially are full of misery, and made me totally uninterested in the later ones that had more interesting titles.
The interesting part of the book is, as I'm sure others note, chapters 6 and 7. Trollope argues that artists, and writers in particular, should value discipline over "inspiration". In no uncertain terms, he says that any other profession is expected to work each day and have at least some output -why are writers exempt? I gather he made plenty of people mad about this, and he probably still does, but it's a great point and I think he's exactly right.
Otherwise, this book is quite dry, and I skimmed the last few chapters. Trollope writes about himself in a somewhat disinterested way that is sometimes refreshing but usually dull. Occasionally he makes a good observation - like writers should discipline themselves to write every day - but otherwise you're trudging through a man's thoughts on his normal life. The early chapters especially are full of misery, and made me totally uninterested in the later ones that had more interesting titles.
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