Joseph Rudyard Kipling was a journalist, short-story writer, poet, and novelist.
Kipling's works of fiction include The Jungle Book (1894), Kim (1901), and many short stories, including The Man Who Would Be King (1888). His poems include Mandalay (1890), Gunga Din (1890), The Gods of the Copybook Headings (1919), The White Man's Burden (1899), and If— (1910). He is regarded as a major innovator in the art of the short story; his children's books are classics of children's literature; and one critic described his work as exhibiting "a versatile and luminous narrative gift".
Kipling was one of the most popular writers in the United Kingdom, in both prose and verse, in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Henry James said: "Kipling strikes me personally as the most complete man of genius (as distinct from fine intelligence) that I have ever known." In 1907, at the age of 41, he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, making him the first English-language writer to receive the prize, and its youngest recipient to date. He was also sounded out for the British Poet Laureateship and on several occasions for a knighthood, both of which he declined.
Awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1907 "in consideration of the power of observation, originality of imagination, virility of ideas and remarkable talent for narration which characterize the creations of this world-famous author."
Kipling kept writing until the early 1930s, but at a slower pace and with much less success than before. On the night of 12 January 1936, Kipling suffered a haemorrhage in his small intestine. He underwent surgery, but died less than a week later on 18 January 1936 at the age of 70 of a perforated duodenal ulcer. Kipling's death had in fact previously been incorrectly announced in a magazine, to which he wrote, "I've just read that I am dead. Don't forget to delete me from your list of subscribers."
An interesting, if haphazard and generally condescending collection of anecdotes and opinions by the Nobel laureate, of impressions of the United States he gathered on an 1889 journey across the United States and Canada, from San Francisco to the East Coast. He loves the fly-fishing and the independent American women, but not much else. Although his own prejudices are on display, he hits home describing widespread racism and a universal obsession with money. His descriptions of touring a Columbia River salmon cannery and the Chicago stockyards and slaughterhouses are vivid and should probably be avoided by anyone who wouldn't want to go on the tours.
Mark Twain was making his living off travel memoirs in the Gilded Age -- a name he came up with in a novel of the same name. He made fun of the world making fun of Americans.
The young Rudyard Kipling returns the favor here, observing that same "gilded age" Twain wrote of. Some reviews call it bitter, but they seem wide of the mark. It is banter. Others note his non-pc commentary, and there is some of that. What goes unremarked is his sympathy for a number of those he speaks of, and antagonism for the majority of white Americans too.
Through Kiplings eyes, it's interesting to see the U.S. just getting back on its feet after the War to free the slaves. To see confirmations of Twain's own views in his book, The Gilded Age. Everyone hustling, out to make a deal. The rights of women in the west. Kipling's appreciation of their intelligence, and character.
The world's first rock star, author Charles Dickens, toured American in 1842, to a mob of enthused fans. He said nice things about the place, generally. But in the end, he cast his lot with the slaves, and criticized for slavery still existing.
I've wondered, when noting the effect Dickens had every where he went, and through his book, whether he might have been another important tipping point in favor of the steps that lead to abolition. And what did Abraham Lincoln think of his book, American Notes?
Kipling could not help but be aware he was writing in that tradition. He even titled his book after Dickens's. And in covering the themes that he is criticized for, I wonder if he was not implicitly carrying on a conversation with Dickens's book, as well as his audience.
When Dickens returned to America toward the end of his life, slavery had been abolished through that War, and Kipling, the author of the remarkable poem "If", was coming on the stage.
Another reviewer called Kipling a young Bill Bryson, and I think he's on to something. But Bryson is a sort of a latter day Dickens, Kipling, and Twain. He leaves us an interesting camera shot of cities gathering layers on layers, schemers, soldiers
This can be thought of as an early Bill Bryson, but with sharper penetration. Kipling at his best is a great writer and although this is a youthful example of his work it clearly shows immense potential. He cut his teeth on Indian (as in India not native Americans) journalism and he compares many aspects of American life to the very different culture he was born into. At times funny, and he pulls no punches at a society that seems to have very different values from those of the people under the Raj. Always highly observant and with a brilliant ability to get to the heart of any character he meets on the road. It is great to read a young man's observations that are not coloured by notions of modern-day political correctness. He may have a biassed view because of his youth, but he tells it as it seemed to him then. Surely a journalist's duty. A short, fun read.
Kipling is usually delightful, if somewhat unpredictable, and his wit and grip are as anticipated here. However, this book reads like a bitter rant, rambling, vitriolic, and abrupt. He clearly thought himself superior to this people who were barely a united civilization even yet, ironically lampooning them for taking like attitudes themselves. He writes of 1889 America as Dickens wrote of 1800-20 London, but without the subtlety and with decidedly more venom. The only thing he seemed to like of us was our fishing and our girls.
Rudyard Kipling's travelogue "American Notes" offers an interesting description of the author's first trip to the United States. The immensity of the American environment as well as the vitality and individualism of its inhabitants are captured in Kipling's descriptive prose. He notes both the positive and negative aspects of American society, with particular attention paid to the media, politics, and the way of life on the frontier. Overall, "American Notes" is a significant literary work that presents a distinctive viewpoint on American culture and society in the late 19th century.
This book is an absolute delight. Kipling traveled across America and Canada from West to East, recording his impressions along the way of a big, busy, beautiful country of which he had only read. I own an 1899 edition, part of my collection of pre-World War I hardcovers. I'm reading it again, because two weeks ago I had a crazy dream involving Rudyard Kipling and Mark Twain, and I'm tempted to write something.
Америка не впечатлила Киплинга. Что в ней такого, чтобы столь увлекательно повествовать, каким образом Редьярд мог постоянно рассказывать про Индию? Может вовсе не стоило писать про американский быт? Но раз заметки о пребывании в Америке были сложены, вскоре последовала публикация. Тяжело сказать, насколько сами американцы обращаются к представлению Редьярда. Скорее всего в той же мере, которая им импонирует представлениями Чарльза Диккенса, на пятьдесят лет раньше рассказавшего об едва ли не аналогичных впечатлениях.
Quick, humorous read. Published in 1891, before most of his well-known works, this is a series of seven essays. Kipling's shares generally unflattering observations of Americans during his visits to San Francisco, Chicago and Buffalo. He has a way of describing people he encountersand their customs that I admire and enjoy, particularly in travel writing.
A few favorite quotes: " Protect me from the wrath of an outraged community if these letters be ever read by American eyes! San Francisco is a mad city--inhabited for the most part by perfectly insane people, whose women are of a remarkable beauty."
"They delude them-selves into the belief that they talk English--the English--and I have already been pitied for speaking with "an English accent." The man who pitied me spoke, so far as I was concerned, the language of thieves. And they all do....A Hindoo is a Hindoo and a brother to the man who knows his vernacular. And a French-man is French because he speaks his own language. But the American has no language. He is dialect, slang, provincialism, accent, and so forth."
"A man in the train said to me:--"We kin feed all the earth, jest as easily as we kin whip all the earth." Now the second statement is as false as the first is true. One of these days the respectable Republic will find this out. Unfortunately we, the English, will never be the people to teach her; because she is a chartered libertine allowed to say and do anything she likes.... It is perfectly impossible to go to war with these people, whatever they may do."
"I grieve to say I laughed, because when an American wishes to be correct he sets himself to imitate the Englishman. This he does vilely, and earns not only the contempt of his brethren, but the amused scorn of the Briton."
Amazing batch of short stories by Rudyard Kipling (who is a giant asshole) and basically travels through the American West, bitching about everything in the land, sea and air. It's really funny and much better than his novels. He is an amazing character who hates every aspect of America except the women.
I love Kipling, usually. But here, he's writing from such an entrenched position of white privilage and British superiority, I can't enjoy his writing at all.
Picked up at random, and was very pleasantly surprised.
Kipling filed these "Letters from America" to an Indian paper, to finance his trip to London.
He is pretty much to the right of any politics as we know it, but that shouldn't bother anyone at this late date.
His description of a salmon cannery is just splendid.
His admiration for American women is so palpable, it's no wonder he married one.
If I had to pick one quote to exemplify Kipling's style, it would be this:
... It needs no little golden badge swinging from the watch-chain to mark the native son of the golden West, the country-bred of California. Him I love because he is devoid of fear, carries himself like a man, and has a heart as big as his books. I fancy, too, he knows how to enjoy the blessings of life that his province so abundantly bestows upon him. At least, I heard a little rat of a creature with hock-bottle shoulders explaining that a man from Chicago could pull the eye-teeth of a Californian in business. Well, if I lived in fairy-land, where cherries were as big as plums, plums as big as apples, and strawberries of no account, where the procession of the fruits of the seasons was like a pageant in a Drury Lane pantomime and the dry air was wine, I should let business slide once in a way and kick up my heels with my fellows. The tale of the resources of California—vegetable and mineral—is a fairy-tale. You can read it in books. You would never believe me.