DDC/MDS
| 823.6 |
Publication
London : Dent, 1960.
Original publication date
1748
Description
Classic Literature. Fiction. Humor (Fiction.) HTML: Famed Scottish satirist Tobias Smollett effortlessly blends humor and adventure in The Adventures of Roderick Random. Based on Smollett's own experiences in the military and heavily influenced by Miguel de Cervantes' Don Quixote, this book is a hilarious romp that takes the title character on a series of misadventures around the globe..
Status
Available
Call number
Collection
User reviews
LibraryThing member stillatim
Compared to Humphrey Clinker, RR is a bit lacking. Compared to all the world's other novels, though, it's great. As ever with the 18th century, you need to adjust your expectations: the characters are 'flat,' there's no psychologizing, the plot meanders with little internal purpose, and there's no
There's also a larger point to Random's adventures. He starts off in Scotland. There's no reason for the travels that follow, except the sort of purpose no novelist could get away with now: Smollett wants to show us the depravity of the entire human species, so Random has to hang out with provincials, rurals, urbans, domestics, foreigners, men, women, nobles, peasants, workers, bosses, servants, masters, criminals, judges etc... If you can think of an opposing pair, Random meets each member of it, and they're both shitheads. Only once he's gone more or less around the world and met everyone can the book come to its comedic conclusion, in which a series of literally incredible coincidences bring Random, and his glorious sidekick Strap, love and loot. As in Humphrey Clinker, Smollett's point is: this shit only happens in novels, the world sucks, and you need to admit that. On the upside, the shit is very, very funny.
Cervantes is obviously a big influence on this book: the pointless, entertaining adventures; the lower-class sidekick (you could easily mistake Strap for Sancho); the rough and ready humor; the complete indifference to consistency in characters' psychology or actions. RR isn't quite as entertaining, but it was Smollett's first book and it's written in the first person. Given those disadvantages, it's pretty impressive. On the other hand, I can't imagine it winning many readers.
An edition that listed the chapter contents at the start would be a good idea; then it'd be easier to skip straight to the best bits. That aside, this edition is a good one--solid introduction, good notes.
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politesse. On the other hand, there's a wonderful variety of people and voices, there are dozens of hilarious little narratives, and the little satires--particularly, here, the dancing naked philosopher-poet, who ends up in debtor's prison after getting screwed around by publishers and producers--are far more powerful than the so-called satires of our time. There's also a larger point to Random's adventures. He starts off in Scotland. There's no reason for the travels that follow, except the sort of purpose no novelist could get away with now: Smollett wants to show us the depravity of the entire human species, so Random has to hang out with provincials, rurals, urbans, domestics, foreigners, men, women, nobles, peasants, workers, bosses, servants, masters, criminals, judges etc... If you can think of an opposing pair, Random meets each member of it, and they're both shitheads. Only once he's gone more or less around the world and met everyone can the book come to its comedic conclusion, in which a series of literally incredible coincidences bring Random, and his glorious sidekick Strap, love and loot. As in Humphrey Clinker, Smollett's point is: this shit only happens in novels, the world sucks, and you need to admit that. On the upside, the shit is very, very funny.
Cervantes is obviously a big influence on this book: the pointless, entertaining adventures; the lower-class sidekick (you could easily mistake Strap for Sancho); the rough and ready humor; the complete indifference to consistency in characters' psychology or actions. RR isn't quite as entertaining, but it was Smollett's first book and it's written in the first person. Given those disadvantages, it's pretty impressive. On the other hand, I can't imagine it winning many readers.
An edition that listed the chapter contents at the start would be a good idea; then it'd be easier to skip straight to the best bits. That aside, this edition is a good one--solid introduction, good notes.
Show Less
LibraryThing member edella
Roderick Random (1748), Smollett's first novel, is full of the dazzling vitality characteristics of all his work, as well as of his own life. Roderick is the boisterous and unprincipled hero who answers life's many misfortunes with a sledgehammer. Left penniless, he leaves his native Scotland for
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London and on the way meets Strap, and old schoolfellow. Together they undergo many adventures at the hands of scoundrels and rogues. Roderick qualifies as a surgeon's mate and is pressed as a common soldier on bord the man-of-war Thunder. In a tale of romance as well as adventure, Roderick also finds time to fall in love... Smollett drew on his own experiences as a surgeon's mate in the navy for the memorable scenes on board ship, and the novel combines documentary realism with great humour and panache. Show Less
LibraryThing member dbsovereign
Take the journey and find yourself immersed. Humor, soap. To another level. Sublime.
LibraryThing member Stevil2001
I am a Victorianist, so I have no issues with reading texts many others find old or dull. However, I am beginning to think that some kind of switch was flipped around 1820 or so that made literature become good—presumably this was done by Jane Austen. This reminded me a lot of Henry Fielding's
* Everyone calls this book a picaresque, but David Blewett, editor of my Penguin Classics edition, goes to great pains in his introduction to establish that it's not one.
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Tom Jones (published a year later), in that it goes on and on and on and on without stopping. The focus on interiority that makes the novel the novel just isn't here yet, but even a lot of the dialogue comes in the form of reported summaries of conversations. It's like listening to someone tell you a story, only the teller is an older relative and they have no clear point and no clear direction and soon all you can do is nod politely and hope it doesn't go on too long. But of course it does. Fool me once, eighteenth-century picaresques,* shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Hopefully I am not fooled into picking up a third one.* Everyone calls this book a picaresque, but David Blewett, editor of my Penguin Classics edition, goes to great pains in his introduction to establish that it's not one.
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