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Editorial Reviews. Review. From the same source comes A Sentimental Journey by Laurence Sterne, author of Tristram Shandy. Read by Anton Lesser, this tale.
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View all 20 comments. A Sentimental Journey of Laurence Sterne offers to us an original narrative of a journey between England and Italy in the 18th century. Turn by turn guide, companion, or sentimental confidant, Sterne invites us to follow his provocative digressions.

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Lisbon Book-Fair View all 3 comments. May 28, Darwin8u rated it really liked it Shelves: , fiction , british. Yorick plays the part of Sterne's alter-ego. It seems to exude both a bit of Richardson and Rousseau. I think it was Byron who said that Sterne, "preferred whining over a dead ass to relieving a living mother," but that is a diversion for another trip.

This novel is based on a trip that Sterne took in through France and Italy. How much is true and how much is fiction is uncertain, but after reading it I suspect it is mostly fiction. It's quixotic in nature and structure, but Sterne's episodic tales of Yorick, a British clergyman, fall well short of the brilliance of Cervantes famous character.

But it was entertaining enough to give it 4 stars. Apr 23, MJ Nicholls rated it really liked it Shelves: penguin-classics , novels , pres , sassysassenachs. This is a vicaresque ha—see what I did there? The chapters are bitesize but thin-in-content, making it pleasant to read if not altogether interesting—a few semi-comic mishaps befall the narrator, and the Tobias Smollett parodies are amusing too.


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The novel does lean towards the sentimental—sketches where the reader is asked to extend their pity towards suffering French beggars and so on. Nothing here disproves my theory that English Literature kicks into gear in the readability stakes post yes, with exceptions—keep yer hair on. Also somewhat snagworthy are the frequent French phrases used—I had to keep thumbing back to the endnotes. Nice cameo from Toby Shandy, however. And a perfectly charming read otherwise. But not essential.

View all 15 comments. Whether modern or old, the edition of a book is important. I am very fussy and perhaps even sentimental about this. For me a book is a physical object to be cherished for its sheer physicality as much as for its sentiment and sense. I like the font and the discreet signalling of notes with a little superscripted circle.

This Oxford edition contains A Sentimental Journey and Other Whether modern or old, the edition of a book is important.


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The Other Writings are a sickly sweet love journal to his sweetheart, an adroit satire on political games played by obscure churchmen and some surprising sermons on such topics as feasting, concubines and enthusiasm. Of these, A Sentimental Journey is easily the best. It is far and away the best. It is incomparable. It is sublime. You might wonder what a clergyman is doing writing so wittily and sentimentally about his erotic experiences in France and Italy. But it is his very respectability that makes his sentimentality so piquant.

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Sterne's observations are never crude. He is a world away from Tobias Smollet's toilet humour. You are given hints and you must find out the erotic detail for yourself. You must feel it. That is what Mr. Sterne is so very good at, making you feel. You must imagine yourself as the gentleman sitting next to the fille de chambre on the big hotel bed as she carefully searches for, then reveals, the quilted satin and taffeta purse she has made to hold the coin you gave her. You must wonder what you would have done had you been the Marquesina in Milan who was pursued by such a charming and witty clergyman.

Would you, like her, have let him into your carriage? I know I would. That glimpse he gives us of his erotic adventure in Milan is, unfortunately all we get of Italy. The French portion of his journey occupies volumes one and two and the journal ends abruptly in Savoy, with Turin no more than a twinkle on the horizon. The work is unfinished. And yet, you might say, it is exquisitely finished. It is impossible to do justice to Mr.

Sterne's work in a brief summary because he is so very brief himself. For readers only familiar with Tristram Shandy, it is astonishing how concise he can be. He is so concise you have to read the whole work to appreciate its beauty. He has put so much into it and, at the same time, left so much out.

It creates ripples in your mind and in your senses. It is tantalising. It is perfect. It is, truly, a classic. Travel literature traditionally relies on the reliability of the narrator as witness. The episode concludes with a love-in moment where the two men sentimentally exchange snuffboxes. This is sentimentalism for cynics, or cynicism for sentimentalists--not at all a bad combination at all. The only novel I know where the author purposedly omitted the last word. Or the equivalent old slang term they use for it when this was first published in CASE.

She read this sometime in the late 's, expressed admiration for Laurence Sterne's "delicate, flashing The only novel I know where the author purposedly omitted the last word. She read this sometime in the late 's, expressed admiration for Laurence Sterne's "delicate, flashing style" and praised his "many passages of I walked up gravely to the window in my dusty black coat, and looking through the glass saw all the world in yellow, blue, and green, running at the ring of pleasure.


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How romantic. But then Sterne whispers to you, while trying to suppress a giggle, that "pluck a rose" he actually got from Jonathan Swift's "Strephon and Chloe"-- "None ever saw her pluck a Rose. No assurance you'll love it as you might also misappreciate Sterne's real genius.

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If ever this happens, however, it still won't be anything bad. You can at least claim that you are like Virginia Woolf.

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View all 8 comments. Nov 23, Ckane rated it did not like it. Honestly, if I could rate this lower than a star I would. Oct 13, David rated it it was amazing. Yorick has a keen and self-deprecating sense of humour and is always trying to be polite and do what he thinks is correct in the particular circumstances in which he finds himself. It is hard to overcome his natural English reticence. But Yorick, rather like Shirley Valentine, has an open mind and is up for anything. My edition contains delightful line drawings by Brian Robb, which give Yorick a mischievously adventurous personality.

There is plenty of self-questioning here but no morbidity, no depression. It is full of bittersweet, small-scale adventures.

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This is not Tom Jones or Joseph Andrews: there are no duels, sexual conquests or battlefields. The scale is more gentle and human, and yet we are left feeling that Sterne has touched the core of human nature in his roundabout way, and caught something of the Joycean joy in everyday things, and something of their sadness and transience. Gather rosebuds while ye may, for life is all too short.

The last illustration, with Yorick leaving a darkened room, is our farewell to him and his century.