Ron Peters's Reviews > The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman
The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman
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In Wikipedia, a Shaggy Dog Story is defined thusly: “In its original sense, a shaggy dog story or yarn is an extremely long-winded anecdote characterized by the extensive narration of typically irrelevant incidents and terminated by an anticlimax”. I believe this makes Tristram Shandy the Shaggy Dog Story to end all Shaggy Dog Stories. I was reminded of the title of Ellen Degeneres’ book, My Point… And I Do Have One.
In a grand tradition that runs from Rabelais’ Gargantua through the works of Samuel Beckett and Italo Calvino, Tristram Shandy – easily one of the most frustrating and amusing reads in the English language – takes pride of place, running in great narrative swoops, whoops, and gyrations through 600-plus pages, and going absolutely nowhere. In the end, we are informed by the author that it has all been a long cock and bull tale, which the Cambridge dictionary informs us is “a story that is obviously not true, especially one given as an excuse”.
But what is Laurence Sterne’s excuse? You can read literary critics who will argue that this book is a subtle and deep mediation that simultaneously treats of the inherent and egregious limits on, and the greatest glories of, the novel as a philosophic tool and a work of art. For most of us, it is a hugely imaginative and extraordinarily entertaining, not to mention endlessly goofy, tale that goes nowhere at all, accomplishes nothing, yet still somehow leaves us not merely satisfied, but wanting more.
At the same time, as it gradually dawns on you that Sterne’s endless digressions and his lack of narrative progress are precisely the points – a remarkably post-modern touch – it proves to be the epitome of tantalizing frustration, as the poor reader waits, chapter upon chapter, for something resembling a resolution, or a point. It is a thing as easily loved as loathed, depending on one’s tolerance for ambiguity and one’s need for closure. Alternately, if you prefer, you can love it and loathe it all at once.
In a grand tradition that runs from Rabelais’ Gargantua through the works of Samuel Beckett and Italo Calvino, Tristram Shandy – easily one of the most frustrating and amusing reads in the English language – takes pride of place, running in great narrative swoops, whoops, and gyrations through 600-plus pages, and going absolutely nowhere. In the end, we are informed by the author that it has all been a long cock and bull tale, which the Cambridge dictionary informs us is “a story that is obviously not true, especially one given as an excuse”.
But what is Laurence Sterne’s excuse? You can read literary critics who will argue that this book is a subtle and deep mediation that simultaneously treats of the inherent and egregious limits on, and the greatest glories of, the novel as a philosophic tool and a work of art. For most of us, it is a hugely imaginative and extraordinarily entertaining, not to mention endlessly goofy, tale that goes nowhere at all, accomplishes nothing, yet still somehow leaves us not merely satisfied, but wanting more.
At the same time, as it gradually dawns on you that Sterne’s endless digressions and his lack of narrative progress are precisely the points – a remarkably post-modern touch – it proves to be the epitome of tantalizing frustration, as the poor reader waits, chapter upon chapter, for something resembling a resolution, or a point. It is a thing as easily loved as loathed, depending on one’s tolerance for ambiguity and one’s need for closure. Alternately, if you prefer, you can love it and loathe it all at once.
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Reading Progress
August 7, 2020
–
Started Reading
August 7, 2020
– Shelved
September 2, 2020
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Finished Reading