The Way of All Flesh
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It is read, I believe, mostly by the young, bent on making out a case against their elders, but Butler was fifty when he stopped working on it, and no reader much under that age is likely to appreciate the full beauty of its horrors. . . . Every contemporary novelist with a developed sense of irony is probably in some measure, directly or indirectly, indebted to Butler, who had the misfortune to be a twentieth-century man born in the year 1835 --The New Yorker
--This text refers to an alternate
Paperback
edition.
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The Way of All Flesh is a satirical novel written by Samuel Butler (1835 - 1902). It is the portrayal by a notable Victorian novelist, in a partly autobiographical piece, about the relations between Ernest Pontifex and his pious, self-righteous parents. The central character is the son of a middle-class English clergyman and a sanctimonious mother which makes for an unhappy childhood. His years at university are unhappy and he ends up in an unfulfilling marriage. His aunt's bequest and literature are the bright spots in his life. Butler does an excellent job of portraying the hypocrisy and smug complacency of English Victorian middle-class life.
--This text refers to an alternate
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First Sentence
WHEN I was small boy at the beginning of the century I remember an old man who wore knee-breeches and worsted stockings, and who used to hobble about the street of our village with help of a stick. Read the first page
Front Cover | Copyright | Table of Contents | Excerpt | Back Cover
WHEN I was small boy at the beginning of the century I remember an old man who wore knee-breeches and worsted stockings, and who used to hobble about the street of our village with help of a stick. Read the first page
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
21 of 23 people found the following review helpful
Format:Paperback
...this is an absolutely brilliant book, although undoubtedly highly flawed. However, though it has flaws it triumphantly rises above them.
Still, the flaws exist and the potential reader should be warned of their existence. It's difficult to read, certainly, and extremely slow to get going. The story of the hero's ancestry undoubtedly adds depth to the book, but it also slows it down considerably so that in the early sections you may lose the will to read on.
This problem is compounded by Butler's style. Though he is much less prolix than most 19th century writers and writes good descriptive passages, the sparsity of dialogue makes the book more monotonous than it could have been, the whole story being told purely through the narrator's words, never those of the actual participants in the story. Having said that, the distance this creates between the reader and many of the characters is no doubt intentional on Butler's part, at least to some degree. It does however make you empathise less with Ernest, at least in the first half of the book.
Ernest's journey from conservatism to liberalism is heavily autobiographical, as are the portraits of his family. This should be borne in mind when looking at the conclusion of the book. Ernest (and Butler) end up alone - in a place where no one else is intellectually. Their positions are not always consistent, but that makes this work all the more truthful, for few of us really are, particularly those like Butler who struggled to reject the whole apparatus of recieved wisdom and think as if for the first time. If Ernest is damaged in the process, and never entirely escapes from the mind-set he was raised in, then he is in good company. Think of the ending of Huck Finn, where Huck returns to his old life. The Way of All Flesh - written contemporaneopusly with Huck Finn - is in many respects and Anglicised, middle-class version of that great book. Butler and Twain both show us the difficulties of breaking away and thinking anew, but crucially they afirm that such breakthroughs are possible, that we too can follow in the footsteps of these characters and interpret the world in a fresh and better way.
The Way of All Flesh will not be enjoyed by everyone. It's particular philosophical concerns will not touch everyone, and may seem irrelevant and outmoded to many; but for those who do connect with the book the experience will be infinetely rewarding. I cannot recommend this book strongly enough.
2 of 2 people found the following review helpful
Format:Paperback
Not really a novel, more a series of notes and observations on life wrapped up in the story of a boy growing to manhood. Lots here to mine if you are, or intend to be, a writer.
Whatever else this book is, it does not qualify as a novel because the plot is only an excuse for Butler to put out his views on dozens of moral, philosophical, scientific and artistic ideas and topics - The Way of All Flesh suggested by his brilliant choice of title. There were passages at which I laughed out loud, and others that superbly deconstruct some of life's familiar set pieces. Elsewhere Butler simply dissolves into a rant, or strays off the point.
The plot concerns Ernest, born the son of a priggish minister and his weak wife, his childhood at home, his schooling and education at Cambridge. He is ordained, imprisoned, married (to a bigamist drunkard), inherits and finally finds happiness as a writer. It's all too much, and the plot machinery doesn't engage properly in the second half of the book. The device of having the narrator act as a central character does a lot of damage to pace and credibility.
However, the plot is not really important. Instead Butler gives out a stream of witty and thoughtful consciousness. He is very, very good at exposing how the weak prey upon the weaker. Anyone who works in a major corporation, or similar, will recognise instantly the behaviour of Ernest's parents as they try to keep him in his place. And their letters to Ernest could easily be modern internal memos. Butler has a very sharp eye and ear for uncovering and delightfully exposing humbug. Unfortunately, he doesn't always know when enough is enough and a thorough editing would have made the text much sharper. There are pages and pages about various religious differences for example that come down to a rant. It's a bit like talking to a daft old uncle - good fun but not coherent.
Nonetheless, Butler as a writer is well read, thoughtful, knowing and has obvious human empathy. If you are, or have aspirations to be, an author you should read this book - and take copious notes.
Whatever else this book is, it does not qualify as a novel because the plot is only an excuse for Butler to put out his views on dozens of moral, philosophical, scientific and artistic ideas and topics - The Way of All Flesh suggested by his brilliant choice of title. There were passages at which I laughed out loud, and others that superbly deconstruct some of life's familiar set pieces. Elsewhere Butler simply dissolves into a rant, or strays off the point.
The plot concerns Ernest, born the son of a priggish minister and his weak wife, his childhood at home, his schooling and education at Cambridge. He is ordained, imprisoned, married (to a bigamist drunkard), inherits and finally finds happiness as a writer. It's all too much, and the plot machinery doesn't engage properly in the second half of the book. The device of having the narrator act as a central character does a lot of damage to pace and credibility.
However, the plot is not really important. Instead Butler gives out a stream of witty and thoughtful consciousness. He is very, very good at exposing how the weak prey upon the weaker. Anyone who works in a major corporation, or similar, will recognise instantly the behaviour of Ernest's parents as they try to keep him in his place. And their letters to Ernest could easily be modern internal memos. Butler has a very sharp eye and ear for uncovering and delightfully exposing humbug. Unfortunately, he doesn't always know when enough is enough and a thorough editing would have made the text much sharper. There are pages and pages about various religious differences for example that come down to a rant. It's a bit like talking to a daft old uncle - good fun but not coherent.
Nonetheless, Butler as a writer is well read, thoughtful, knowing and has obvious human empathy. If you are, or have aspirations to be, an author you should read this book - and take copious notes.
4 of 5 people found the following review helpful
Format:Paperback
A sort of non-rake's progress, written by the author of Erewhon. Early in the nineteenth century, the repressed Theodore Pontifex is forced into being a clergyman by his overbearing father. Theodore then tries to make his own son Ernest follow in his footsteps. The main action is concerned with Ernest's recurrent attempts to escape this destiny.
The narrator is Ernest's godfather Overton, effectively a mouthpiece for Butler's own views. The novel debunks many mid-Victorian mores, but more than that it asks the reader to analyse common platitudes.
For example, when Ernest "imprudently" asks his role-model, the urbane Towneley, "Don't you like poor people very much yourself?": `Towneley gave his face a comical but good-natured screw, and said quietly, but slowly and decidedly, "No, no, no," and escaped.' Butler's point is that, although the poor are not automatically evil, it is just as great a fallacy to maintain that they are automatically virtuous.
The novel has always been one of my favourites, with its gentle sarcasm at Ernest's expense and the scorn of the hypocrites who plague his life. However, on reflection I have to give it four stars rather than five, due to the rather crude deus (or should I say dea?) ex machina device which Butler uses to extricate Ernest from his misery (particularly as said device is openly telegraphed early in the book).
The narrator is Ernest's godfather Overton, effectively a mouthpiece for Butler's own views. The novel debunks many mid-Victorian mores, but more than that it asks the reader to analyse common platitudes.
For example, when Ernest "imprudently" asks his role-model, the urbane Towneley, "Don't you like poor people very much yourself?": `Towneley gave his face a comical but good-natured screw, and said quietly, but slowly and decidedly, "No, no, no," and escaped.' Butler's point is that, although the poor are not automatically evil, it is just as great a fallacy to maintain that they are automatically virtuous.
The novel has always been one of my favourites, with its gentle sarcasm at Ernest's expense and the scorn of the hypocrites who plague his life. However, on reflection I have to give it four stars rather than five, due to the rather crude deus (or should I say dea?) ex machina device which Butler uses to extricate Ernest from his misery (particularly as said device is openly telegraphed early in the book).
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Most Recent Customer Reviews
Frederick Davidson reads the audiobook
I read the book 20 years ago, I decided to get the audiobook read by Frederick Davidson. I'd listened to 15hrs and 18 minutes within two weeks of purchasing it. Read more
Published 4 months ago by William Cohen
Revolutionary and scandalous.
The modern reader has a problem when reading this book. We haven't, from our earliest years, been bombarded with the mass of moralising, heavily religious improving literature with... Read more
Published 5 months ago by Peasant
Psychological, flawed, infinitely engrossing
The Way of All Flesh is a treat for those of us with the patience to sit through (and sometimes skip through) Victorian longueurs. Read more
Published 18 months ago by Book Groupie
Mostly superb
This parodies huge nineteenth-century novels which explore a family from generation to generation. The difference is that Butler subtly (and sometimes unsubtly) pokes fun at the... Read more
Published on 20 Feb 2009 by Asnac
Outdated social commentary - lousy fiction
Though beautifully written, The Way of All Flesh is pathetically lacking in aesthetic appeal. The plot is only mildly interesting at its peak moments, and usually not even that. Read more
Published on 28 April 1999
Butler writes very well: think more three and a half
According to my edition (Penguin), a large part of the credit for this book is due to Eliza Savage, Butler's close friend and unofficial editor, who died before she could improve... Read more
Published on 5 April 1999
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