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The Diary of a Nobody
An alternative cover edition for this ISBN can be found here.
Mr Pooter is a man of modest ambitions, content with his ordinary life. Yet he always seems to be troubled by disagreeable tradesmen, impertinent young office clerks and wayward friends, not to mention his devil-may-care son Lupin with his unsuitable choice of bride. Try as he might, he cannot avoid life's embarrassing mishaps. In the bumbling, absurd, yet ultimately endearing figure of Pooter, the Grossmiths created an immortal comic character and a superb satire on the snobberies of middle-class suburbia - one which also sends up late Victorian crazes for spiritualism and bicycling, as well as the fashion for publishing diaries by anybody and everybody.
Mr Pooter is a man of modest ambitions, content with his ordinary life. Yet he always seems to be troubled by disagreeable tradesmen, impertinent young office clerks and wayward friends, not to mention his devil-may-care son Lupin with his unsuitable choice of bride. Try as he might, he cannot avoid life's embarrassing mishaps. In the bumbling, absurd, yet ultimately endearing figure of Pooter, the Grossmiths created an immortal comic character and a superb satire on the snobberies of middle-class suburbia - one which also sends up late Victorian crazes for spiritualism and bicycling, as well as the fashion for publishing diaries by anybody and everybody.
240 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1892
About the author
George Grossmith
94 books85 followersGeorge Grossmith was an English comedian, writer, composer, actor, and singer. His performing career spanned more than four decades. As a writer and composer, he created 18 comic operas, nearly 100 musical sketches, some 600 songs and piano pieces, three books and both serious and comic pieces for newspapers and magazines. Grossmith is best remembered for two aspects of his career. First, he created a series of nine memorable characters in the comic operas of Gilbert and Sullivan from 1877 to 1889, including Sir Joseph Porter, in H.M.S. Pinafore (1878), the Major-General in The Pirates of Penzance (1880) and Ko-Ko in The Mikado (1885–87). Second, he wrote, in collaboration with his brother Weedon, the 1892 comic novel Diary of a Nobody.
Grossmith was also famous in his day for performing his own comic piano sketches and songs, both before and after his Gilbert and Sullivan days, becoming the most popular British solo performer of the 1890s. Some of his comic songs endure today, including "See Me Dance the Polka". He continued to perform into the first decade of the 20th century. His son, George Grossmith, Jr., became a famous actor, playwright and producer of Edwardian musical comedies.
Grossmith was also famous in his day for performing his own comic piano sketches and songs, both before and after his Gilbert and Sullivan days, becoming the most popular British solo performer of the 1890s. Some of his comic songs endure today, including "See Me Dance the Polka". He continued to perform into the first decade of the 20th century. His son, George Grossmith, Jr., became a famous actor, playwright and producer of Edwardian musical comedies.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,810 reviews
August 7, 2017
Well, what can I say?
Bloggers, Facebookers - who would have thought you had a predecessor in Victorian England?
Who would have thought the vain thoughts and actions of a completely unimportant person with big ideas about his own personality were meticulously documented and published back then already, including lists of food, what to wear on what occasion, social encounters, small run-ins with friends and family, hopelessly disappointing egocentric grown-up children? If he had had a smartphone, the dear Mr Nobody would have posted a picture of his dinner on his blog each night. As it is, he simply writes down the minute by minute of his event-less life. He is so proud of his puns that he repeats them to himself and laughs out loud. If he had a blog, he would count the likes and share "the joke of the day" with all his acquaintances.
An unspectacular read, which leaves two reflections. First of all, humans have always had the need to be "seen" and "heard" by others, to distinguish themselves from the crowd and to stick out. That is not new, and our technology simply makes it easier to reach outside our own community. My second thought was that the novel obviously is sarcastic, making fun of this need. It seems to me that it is harder to laugh at it nowadays, as we all indulge in the illusion of visibility (to different degrees) today. Who can still laugh at it silently? Without repeating the joke on Goodreads, counting the likes?
Not me. For here I am, writing another review to be posted and shared. As much as I shun other social media, Goodreads satisfies that wish to share in my world, and I would be beyond hypocritical if I made fun of the human need of the boring, boasting Everyman in the diary. He might be a Nobody, but he surely pointed towards the future in a more realistic way than many other Victorian heroes.
Not sure if I recommend the novel, as it is rather boring, like reading online what a friend had for breakfast, with an accompanying picture, but on the other hand, we like that kind of sharing, don't we?
Bloggers, Facebookers - who would have thought you had a predecessor in Victorian England?
Who would have thought the vain thoughts and actions of a completely unimportant person with big ideas about his own personality were meticulously documented and published back then already, including lists of food, what to wear on what occasion, social encounters, small run-ins with friends and family, hopelessly disappointing egocentric grown-up children? If he had had a smartphone, the dear Mr Nobody would have posted a picture of his dinner on his blog each night. As it is, he simply writes down the minute by minute of his event-less life. He is so proud of his puns that he repeats them to himself and laughs out loud. If he had a blog, he would count the likes and share "the joke of the day" with all his acquaintances.
An unspectacular read, which leaves two reflections. First of all, humans have always had the need to be "seen" and "heard" by others, to distinguish themselves from the crowd and to stick out. That is not new, and our technology simply makes it easier to reach outside our own community. My second thought was that the novel obviously is sarcastic, making fun of this need. It seems to me that it is harder to laugh at it nowadays, as we all indulge in the illusion of visibility (to different degrees) today. Who can still laugh at it silently? Without repeating the joke on Goodreads, counting the likes?
Not me. For here I am, writing another review to be posted and shared. As much as I shun other social media, Goodreads satisfies that wish to share in my world, and I would be beyond hypocritical if I made fun of the human need of the boring, boasting Everyman in the diary. He might be a Nobody, but he surely pointed towards the future in a more realistic way than many other Victorian heroes.
Not sure if I recommend the novel, as it is rather boring, like reading online what a friend had for breakfast, with an accompanying picture, but on the other hand, we like that kind of sharing, don't we?
January 3, 2013
Brilliant! A book filled with unimportant characters, not about anything in particular, in which nothing much happens. Well not exactly, this is a satire on being ordinary.
Admittedly modern readers may not find it as funny as when it was first published in Punch in the late 19th century, as the context and detail of Victorian middle-class values that it parodies are no longer an immediately understood reference point and tastes in, as well as expectations of, humour have moved on. What it pokes fun at still exists in present day society and everyday life though and the subtle, not so subtle, witty and cringe-making elements of its sending up have resurfaced many times over in other comic guises and genre.
Expect a gentle sit-com, not laugh out loud stand-up style—and tune in to the delicate ridiculing of social attitudes and individual stereotypes on offer. It is full of satirical one liners and awkward moments that still have contemporary resonance.
The Diary of a Nobody is exactly what its title says it is. There is no complex comic plot or hilarious dénouement. The humour is definitely quite ‘English’ and its target is urban life. If you get that it is still relevant and very amusing to read.
Admittedly modern readers may not find it as funny as when it was first published in Punch in the late 19th century, as the context and detail of Victorian middle-class values that it parodies are no longer an immediately understood reference point and tastes in, as well as expectations of, humour have moved on. What it pokes fun at still exists in present day society and everyday life though and the subtle, not so subtle, witty and cringe-making elements of its sending up have resurfaced many times over in other comic guises and genre.
Expect a gentle sit-com, not laugh out loud stand-up style—and tune in to the delicate ridiculing of social attitudes and individual stereotypes on offer. It is full of satirical one liners and awkward moments that still have contemporary resonance.
The Diary of a Nobody is exactly what its title says it is. There is no complex comic plot or hilarious dénouement. The humour is definitely quite ‘English’ and its target is urban life. If you get that it is still relevant and very amusing to read.
April 11, 2012
11 April
Sat down to write a capsule review of The Diary of a Nobody. Interrupted by a loving thump at the door. It was Mark Nicholls from my review of Italo Calvino’s If on a Winter’s Night a Traveller, a piece of spoof metafiction that ranks as my most liked GR review. I studied my 23-year-old self carefully then looked at my 25-year-old self and noted nothing had changed facially in two years except I was even more handsomely bespectacled. “Would you like to buy a copy of . . . ?” he began, but I’d heard it before. After all, I wrote it. “Finished that novel we started in 2009 yet?” he asked snidely. “Yes! I finished that like a month ago,” I said, triumphantly. Mark Nicholls from 2009 circled the Mark Nicholls from 2012 like a toreador taunting a pacifist bull. “Wow. Speedy Gonzalez. You must be the new Joyce Carol Oates,” he said. I snickered, neglecting to tell him about our vagina transplant.
12 April
I change to the present tense since the review is being written today, contrary to the opening sentence. That’s an example of what we call in the trade “unreliable narration.” Having doubts about writing a spoof diary review, despite having spoofed since my teens. I put on the new Big Sexy Noise album, Trust the Witch. Lydia Lunch appears on my desk and berates me for being a pussywhipped pastyasted whitebred chickenshed motherloving dolescrouging booksucking bitchboy. I tell her that’s far too many dashless hybrid words for a Thursday. She laughs and we have anal and a slice of malt loaf.
13 April
I will change tense, since this day follows the day on which the review was written. The question will arise, however, as to whether the first sentence needed a tense change, seeing it was written yesterday. (Although this isn’t true either—the review was actually written on the Wednesday night with a view to being posted on the Thursday!) I will walk to cupboard, where Dostoevsky’s skin is hanging on a coat hanger, awaiting its body. The doorbell will ring. A fleshy bone arrangement with organs will stand there and say: “Looking for Fyodor’s skin. Is he in?” I will wrinkle my beautiful eyes. “How do you know your skin’s a she?” I will ask. “All women will be brought low beneath the eyes of our Creator!” he will shout. “OK, cool it, come in,” I’ll say. “Ooh, using contractions now, are we?” he’ll ask. I’ll say: “Yup.”
10 April
I started to read The Diary of a Nobody. I thought how clever it might be to write a spoof review, using surreal antics as a contrast to the novel’s straight-laced satire. I realised that would probably be a mistake.
25 April (morning)
Manny turns up fourteen days too late for the review. He tries to attract attention by pirouetting on the coffee table, but at his age the best he can manage is a forward roll on the settee. Winnie the Pooh walks in and bitches about his boyfriend Dante, who won’t go all the way with him. “To Hell and back, he says!” Pooh sneers. “I’m not that kind of bear.” Manny’s had enough with this review and returns to Yoga For Men where he demonstrates a perfect backwards lotuscrab triple-swivel manoeuvre while sucking a toffee apple.
25 April (afternoon)
Then Knig-o-lass walks in and says: “This suspirro is a cataclysmic feuerwerk of inconsequentialityness.” She curtsies to Pooh and then scarpers.
Sat down to write a capsule review of The Diary of a Nobody. Interrupted by a loving thump at the door. It was Mark Nicholls from my review of Italo Calvino’s If on a Winter’s Night a Traveller, a piece of spoof metafiction that ranks as my most liked GR review. I studied my 23-year-old self carefully then looked at my 25-year-old self and noted nothing had changed facially in two years except I was even more handsomely bespectacled. “Would you like to buy a copy of . . . ?” he began, but I’d heard it before. After all, I wrote it. “Finished that novel we started in 2009 yet?” he asked snidely. “Yes! I finished that like a month ago,” I said, triumphantly. Mark Nicholls from 2009 circled the Mark Nicholls from 2012 like a toreador taunting a pacifist bull. “Wow. Speedy Gonzalez. You must be the new Joyce Carol Oates,” he said. I snickered, neglecting to tell him about our vagina transplant.
12 April
I change to the present tense since the review is being written today, contrary to the opening sentence. That’s an example of what we call in the trade “unreliable narration.” Having doubts about writing a spoof diary review, despite having spoofed since my teens. I put on the new Big Sexy Noise album, Trust the Witch. Lydia Lunch appears on my desk and berates me for being a pussywhipped pastyasted whitebred chickenshed motherloving dolescrouging booksucking bitchboy. I tell her that’s far too many dashless hybrid words for a Thursday. She laughs and we have anal and a slice of malt loaf.
13 April
I will change tense, since this day follows the day on which the review was written. The question will arise, however, as to whether the first sentence needed a tense change, seeing it was written yesterday. (Although this isn’t true either—the review was actually written on the Wednesday night with a view to being posted on the Thursday!) I will walk to cupboard, where Dostoevsky’s skin is hanging on a coat hanger, awaiting its body. The doorbell will ring. A fleshy bone arrangement with organs will stand there and say: “Looking for Fyodor’s skin. Is he in?” I will wrinkle my beautiful eyes. “How do you know your skin’s a she?” I will ask. “All women will be brought low beneath the eyes of our Creator!” he will shout. “OK, cool it, come in,” I’ll say. “Ooh, using contractions now, are we?” he’ll ask. I’ll say: “Yup.”
10 April
I started to read The Diary of a Nobody. I thought how clever it might be to write a spoof review, using surreal antics as a contrast to the novel’s straight-laced satire. I realised that would probably be a mistake.
25 April (morning)
Manny turns up fourteen days too late for the review. He tries to attract attention by pirouetting on the coffee table, but at his age the best he can manage is a forward roll on the settee. Winnie the Pooh walks in and bitches about his boyfriend Dante, who won’t go all the way with him. “To Hell and back, he says!” Pooh sneers. “I’m not that kind of bear.” Manny’s had enough with this review and returns to Yoga For Men where he demonstrates a perfect backwards lotuscrab triple-swivel manoeuvre while sucking a toffee apple.
25 April (afternoon)
Then Knig-o-lass walks in and says: “This suspirro is a cataclysmic feuerwerk of inconsequentialityness.” She curtsies to Pooh and then scarpers.
August 3, 2017
The diary of my everyday life would be very boring, and by most measure so is Charles Pooter's. Living in late Victorian Era England, Pooter and his wife Carrie are stuck deep into middle class society. But Pooter knows his place, and he seems quite happy to make the best of it. He pays homage to his employer, appreciates his modest home, and is satisfied with his occasional chance to rub shoulders with the upper class at the Lord Mayors Ball. He daily frets over things like shirt collars, boot black, his housekeepers shortcomings, and so on. But his life, and the diary's, is helped along by his two neighbors and friends, Gowing and Cummings, who are always popping in, always going and coming, and if you get that little joke, then you will get the essence of this story and the essence of Charles Pooter. Gowing and Cummings are to Charles Pooter what Fred and Ethyl Mertz were to Lucy and Desi. I enjoyed the deadpan humor, and my enjoyment was enhanced by the splendid narration of the book by Martin Clifton.
Read
August 6, 2011This reminded me of Three Men in a Boat in that I don't feel that some great moments add up to a great book.
A diary format allowed the Grossmiths to have a series of comic incidents without the inconvenience of a plot, although there are some long running story lines that are tied up by the end of the book.
The diary is written by Mr Pooter, a senior bank clerk who works in the City of London and records the trials and tribulations of his late Victorian life after moving into a new home.
The idea is that you find his self-importance and occasional pomposities amusing, and it helps to be socially superior to characters of this sort for the book to work. In the humour of an in-egalitarian society, jokes turn on the snobbishness and angst of middle-class Victorian life, for example Pooter is extremely satisfied to be invited to a fancy event and extremely dissatisfied when he finds one of his neighbours - who in his eyes is only a tradesman - is also there. I'm of too low a social class to be as thoroughly amused as the target audience , for instance I found Pooter's pride and satisfaction in the idea of having his son work in the bank alongside him, the two of them taking the omnibus into the city together, tender rather than comic.
The character names like Pooter or his friends Cummings and Gowings give you another idea of the Grossmith's sense of humour. If you're not smiling or groaning at those then your smile to page ratio is lightly to be low.
However there are some ideas that build up into great comic scenes, notably those involving a tin of red paint and what to do with it .
If you are going to read it, I recommend an edition with the original illustrations.
A diary format allowed the Grossmiths to have a series of comic incidents without the inconvenience of a plot, although there are some long running story lines that are tied up by the end of the book.
The diary is written by Mr Pooter, a senior bank clerk who works in the City of London and records the trials and tribulations of his late Victorian life after moving into a new home.
The idea is that you find his self-importance and occasional pomposities amusing, and it helps to be socially superior to characters of this sort for the book to work. In the humour of an in-egalitarian society, jokes turn on the snobbishness and angst of middle-class Victorian life, for example Pooter is extremely satisfied to be invited to a fancy event and extremely dissatisfied when he finds one of his neighbours - who in his eyes is only a tradesman - is also there. I'm of too low a social class to be as thoroughly amused as the target audience , for instance I found Pooter's pride and satisfaction in the idea of having his son work in the bank alongside him, the two of them taking the omnibus into the city together, tender rather than comic.
The character names like Pooter or his friends Cummings and Gowings give you another idea of the Grossmith's sense of humour. If you're not smiling or groaning at those then your smile to page ratio is lightly to be low.
However there are some ideas that build up into great comic scenes, notably those involving a tin of red paint and what to do with it .
If you are going to read it, I recommend an edition with the original illustrations.
March 10, 2025
The nobody is Mr. Pooter, at times Mr. Porter or Mr. Pewter, not memorable enough for people to get his name right. He and his wife have moved in an upward direction from London. This is the suburbs of the 1890s. He’s keen on appearances but has trouble getting respect from his junior colleagues at work and from his neighbors at home. He reveals some of his missteps in this diary. It is a gently satirical and funny work. The authors (brothers) were known in their time for work in the theater as writers, actors and scene designers.
December 13, 2020
Pitt, a monkey of seventeen, who has only been with us six weeks, told me "to keep my hair on!". I informed him I had had the honour of being in the firm twenty years, to which he insolently replied that "I looked it". I gave him an indignant look and said "I demand from you some respect, sir". He replied: "All right go on demanding". I would not argue with him any further. You cannot argue with people like that.
Mr Charles Pooter is a middle-aged clerk working for a long-established firm in the City. He and his wife Carrie have recently moved to a new semi-detached house in Holloway, an area of London that was recently rural but increasingly developed with houses and traders and the railway (opened 1852 Holloway & Caledonian Road station) helping the urbanisation and travel to the city - although Pooter uses the horse-drawn omnibus to commute.
Pooter is a product of his time and indeed through George Grossmith a messenger and light on much of late Victorian society. His life is one of doing and being seen to do the "right thing". Respectability is the key word in Pooter's life and indeed for most Victorians. As such the errors, mishaps and interpretations we see Pooter involved in underscores this, and shows Grossmith's supreme observations and writing.
A superb plot vehicle is the Pooters' son Willie aka Lupin. He tests their patience and beliefs all the time remaining under Mr Pooters responsibility: Lupin is twenty and full of youth and the superiority that comes with this early stage of life; the challenge here, and so subtly done, and, no doubt, readily understood by our Victorian forebears, is that the age of majority is at this stage 21.
Some of this may be lost on the modern reader but consider straightened Victorian life and one can understand, although perhaps not sympathise, with Mr Charles Pooter.
Overall, this is a hugely enjoyable read that peers into the life of Late Victorian London. It has humour, social comment and paints colour onto domestic items of use in houses or the crazes of fashion and "science" of the day.
My copy was a Penguin (Black Spine) Classic Series that benefits from the original drawings of Weedon Grossmith and an introduction with end notes by Ed Glinert (himself a expert on London's streets and history).
This is an area of history that I much enjoy as it covers London and those who lived and worked there. There is much on the railways on the web and also some information on Holloway and it's own links to the railways. More on Holloway is also just a quick Google but this chapter from British History On-line is excellent: https://www.british-history.ac.uk/old...
For those interested in bank clerks in Victorian Society this is a superb paper: https://www.research.ed.ac.uk/portal/...
Mr Charles Pooter is a middle-aged clerk working for a long-established firm in the City. He and his wife Carrie have recently moved to a new semi-detached house in Holloway, an area of London that was recently rural but increasingly developed with houses and traders and the railway (opened 1852 Holloway & Caledonian Road station) helping the urbanisation and travel to the city - although Pooter uses the horse-drawn omnibus to commute.
Pooter is a product of his time and indeed through George Grossmith a messenger and light on much of late Victorian society. His life is one of doing and being seen to do the "right thing". Respectability is the key word in Pooter's life and indeed for most Victorians. As such the errors, mishaps and interpretations we see Pooter involved in underscores this, and shows Grossmith's supreme observations and writing.
A superb plot vehicle is the Pooters' son Willie aka Lupin. He tests their patience and beliefs all the time remaining under Mr Pooters responsibility: Lupin is twenty and full of youth and the superiority that comes with this early stage of life; the challenge here, and so subtly done, and, no doubt, readily understood by our Victorian forebears, is that the age of majority is at this stage 21.
Some of this may be lost on the modern reader but consider straightened Victorian life and one can understand, although perhaps not sympathise, with Mr Charles Pooter.
Overall, this is a hugely enjoyable read that peers into the life of Late Victorian London. It has humour, social comment and paints colour onto domestic items of use in houses or the crazes of fashion and "science" of the day.
My copy was a Penguin (Black Spine) Classic Series that benefits from the original drawings of Weedon Grossmith and an introduction with end notes by Ed Glinert (himself a expert on London's streets and history).
This is an area of history that I much enjoy as it covers London and those who lived and worked there. There is much on the railways on the web and also some information on Holloway and it's own links to the railways. More on Holloway is also just a quick Google but this chapter from British History On-line is excellent: https://www.british-history.ac.uk/old...
For those interested in bank clerks in Victorian Society this is a superb paper: https://www.research.ed.ac.uk/portal/...
May 30, 2008
Overrated fictional "diary" of a middle-aged, middle-class, angst-ridden, Victorian middle-manager, dealing with inconsequential daily irritations in a dry (but not especially funny) way.
The authors (brothers, George and Weedon, despite GR listing just one) also like self-conscious puns. I like puns, but I like a degree of subtlety that's lacking. For example, a couple of friends have punning names, but lest the reader fail to notice, out comes the heavy hammer:
"Doesn't it seem odd that Gowing's always coming and Cummings is always going?"
One measure of great art (and I count literature as art) is that you get something different from it each time. Books like this challenge that view: it's loved and lauded by many, and I remember enjoying it in my late teens or early 20s, but a decade or two later, it was very different. I'm pretty sure that doesn't make it great, though! It also demonstrates the risk of revisiting things one has warm but distant memories of.
The authors (brothers, George and Weedon, despite GR listing just one) also like self-conscious puns. I like puns, but I like a degree of subtlety that's lacking. For example, a couple of friends have punning names, but lest the reader fail to notice, out comes the heavy hammer:
"Doesn't it seem odd that Gowing's always coming and Cummings is always going?"
One measure of great art (and I count literature as art) is that you get something different from it each time. Books like this challenge that view: it's loved and lauded by many, and I remember enjoying it in my late teens or early 20s, but a decade or two later, it was very different. I'm pretty sure that doesn't make it great, though! It also demonstrates the risk of revisiting things one has warm but distant memories of.
January 22, 2019
I so enjoyed this! Such a funny, warming Bd interesting exploration of late 19th century lower middle class life.
April 29, 2020
Every nobody is actually a somebody
Forgetting quarantines, Trump, lack of Chinese food, leaf blowers on Saturday mornings, raccoons in the trash, anthropology, and rainy Mondays, I took up THE DIARY OF A NOBODY, which I’d bought seven years ago at a local yard sale and completely neglected since then. Who had ever heard of this thin volume? Puttering about my attic bookshelves, I just needed a change of pace. And I definitely got it.
This is a dry-humored comic masterpiece from late 19th century London. I chuckled my way through the whole thing and concluded that though technology has certainly changed, people haven’t. (An amazing observation. Nice work, Bob.) Charles Pooter works as a clerk, his wife is at home, and his son, Lupin, gets himself fired from his clerking job, chooses unsuitable friends and fiancées, yet seems to think he’s a lot smarter than Dad. All sorts of extremely mundane events and modest achievements or social faux pas take place. Sometimes Mr. Pooter realizes it, sometimes he doesn’t. The whole thing is written in an understated, blindly sincere tone. I loved it. His two friends are Cummings and Gowing. His boss is Mr. Perkupp. This dude paints his bathtub red, but it’s not waterproof paint. Pratfalls seem to be his bread and butter. If you don’t find yourself in here, then you ain’t lived. Or you never looked in the mirror and saw a Pooter. OK, maybe a Part-Time Pooter.
My final words are: this is from the same country that produced Monty Python. They were Pooters on steroids. Check it out.
Forgetting quarantines, Trump, lack of Chinese food, leaf blowers on Saturday mornings, raccoons in the trash, anthropology, and rainy Mondays, I took up THE DIARY OF A NOBODY, which I’d bought seven years ago at a local yard sale and completely neglected since then. Who had ever heard of this thin volume? Puttering about my attic bookshelves, I just needed a change of pace. And I definitely got it.
This is a dry-humored comic masterpiece from late 19th century London. I chuckled my way through the whole thing and concluded that though technology has certainly changed, people haven’t. (An amazing observation. Nice work, Bob.) Charles Pooter works as a clerk, his wife is at home, and his son, Lupin, gets himself fired from his clerking job, chooses unsuitable friends and fiancées, yet seems to think he’s a lot smarter than Dad. All sorts of extremely mundane events and modest achievements or social faux pas take place. Sometimes Mr. Pooter realizes it, sometimes he doesn’t. The whole thing is written in an understated, blindly sincere tone. I loved it. His two friends are Cummings and Gowing. His boss is Mr. Perkupp. This dude paints his bathtub red, but it’s not waterproof paint. Pratfalls seem to be his bread and butter. If you don’t find yourself in here, then you ain’t lived. Or you never looked in the mirror and saw a Pooter. OK, maybe a Part-Time Pooter.
My final words are: this is from the same country that produced Monty Python. They were Pooters on steroids. Check it out.
June 24, 2023
This is a strong contender for funniest book ever written and Mr Charles Pooter, the quixotic Victorian suburban nobody of the title, is a creation of unalloyed comic genius. The older I get the more I identify with Mr Pooter, the middle-aged city clerk and resident of The Laurels, Brickfield Terrace, Holloway. He embodies everything I dread becoming and yet secretly know I already am: his self-delusion and pomposity; his habit of making appallingly bad jokes which only he laughs at; his unfailing knack of thinking of a brilliant rejoinder five minutes after the conversation has ended. Only the irredeemably self-deluding and pompous could fail to catch at least a partial reflection of themselves in this irredeemably self-deluding and pompous man. Wanting only to maintain his dignity he is ruthlessly stripped of it at every unfortunate turn. He is forever outwitted by tradesmen, whom he naturally regards as his social inferiors, and sent up by junior clerks at the office. A slave to etiquette and ‘doing the right thing’ his own stupidity ensures that he never fails to do the wrong thing. His life is a never-ending succession of social embarrassments. As John Lennon once sang of his own Nowhere Man - ‘isn’t he a bit like you and me?’
It’s often accused of snobbery, of course; the fashionable Grossmith brothers, stars of D’Oyly Carte Opera Company and the Victorian stage, glancing down with sneering condescension at the lower-middle classes in their sprawling suburbs. This, I think, underestimates the subtlety of the writing in addition to ignoring the glaring fact that Mr Pooter is one of the most sympathetic characters in all fiction. Who could fail to love this gentle and well-meaning man for whom everything goes wrong? Pooter may be a pompous ass but he is a thoroughly decent pompous ass; a loving husband and father (to the unflappable Carrie and the wayward and clever Lupin) and loyal friend to Mr Gowing (who ‘is always coming’) and Mr Cummings (who ‘is always going’). He works hard and his heart is firmly in the right place even if his brain isn’t. The Grossmiths, like all great comedians, triumphantly have it both ways, simultaneously satirising and celebrating their subject matter. They capture the stultifying boredom, conformity and small-mindedness of suburbia while making you envy it’s satisfying completeness and self-assurance.
The Diary of a Nobody first appeared in Punch between May 1888 and May 1889. It was in many ways topical humour and perhaps not designed to last. When published as a book, in extended form in 1892, most of the the critics certainly displayed little recognition that they were witnessing the birth of a classic. One reviewer, sounding uncannily like Pooter himself, disapproved of its ‘vulgarity’ and ‘tastelessness.’ That it has endured is no mystery. It’s a deeply humane and insightful comedy which provokes superior laughter while making you squirm inwardly with excruciating self-recognition. All human aspiration, pretension and vanity - in both senses of that word - is here; the whole world in an unfashionable suburb. Truly life-enhancing stuff.
It’s often accused of snobbery, of course; the fashionable Grossmith brothers, stars of D’Oyly Carte Opera Company and the Victorian stage, glancing down with sneering condescension at the lower-middle classes in their sprawling suburbs. This, I think, underestimates the subtlety of the writing in addition to ignoring the glaring fact that Mr Pooter is one of the most sympathetic characters in all fiction. Who could fail to love this gentle and well-meaning man for whom everything goes wrong? Pooter may be a pompous ass but he is a thoroughly decent pompous ass; a loving husband and father (to the unflappable Carrie and the wayward and clever Lupin) and loyal friend to Mr Gowing (who ‘is always coming’) and Mr Cummings (who ‘is always going’). He works hard and his heart is firmly in the right place even if his brain isn’t. The Grossmiths, like all great comedians, triumphantly have it both ways, simultaneously satirising and celebrating their subject matter. They capture the stultifying boredom, conformity and small-mindedness of suburbia while making you envy it’s satisfying completeness and self-assurance.
The Diary of a Nobody first appeared in Punch between May 1888 and May 1889. It was in many ways topical humour and perhaps not designed to last. When published as a book, in extended form in 1892, most of the the critics certainly displayed little recognition that they were witnessing the birth of a classic. One reviewer, sounding uncannily like Pooter himself, disapproved of its ‘vulgarity’ and ‘tastelessness.’ That it has endured is no mystery. It’s a deeply humane and insightful comedy which provokes superior laughter while making you squirm inwardly with excruciating self-recognition. All human aspiration, pretension and vanity - in both senses of that word - is here; the whole world in an unfashionable suburb. Truly life-enhancing stuff.
November 22, 2018
This is exactly what it says on the tin, this is the diary of a nobody.
We abruptly enter his life and abruptly leave it having read a year of his diary entries. There is no background information on him, his family, his friends but to be honest I enjoyed the concept of this, it has no beginning or no end. It has no point at all. It's just a diary of a nobody and quite an enjoyable one.
Three stars.
We abruptly enter his life and abruptly leave it having read a year of his diary entries. There is no background information on him, his family, his friends but to be honest I enjoyed the concept of this, it has no beginning or no end. It has no point at all. It's just a diary of a nobody and quite an enjoyable one.
Three stars.
March 10, 2013
"Why should I not publish my diary? I have often seen reminiscences of people I have never even heard of, and I fail to see - because I do not happen to be a 'Somebody' - why my diary should not be interesting."
And thank goodness that Charles Pooter, ordinary clerk and Victorian family man decided to follow this course. The humour is gentle but had me in stitches at times and is still as funny today as it must have been for its contemporary audience of Punch readers in the 1890s. One is torn between feeling desperately sorry for Mr Pooter (and recognising that we can all be impossibly pompous and self-important at times) and laughing out loud at the many slights and injuries he receives at the hands of tradesmen and his fellow clerks. When William (now self-styling himself by his middle name "Lupin") arrives on the scene, the action picks up and the scene is set for much more hilarity as Lupin disregards his father and his old-fashioned ways and sets off on a new-fangled modern course which Pooter can only believe will lead to disgrace.
In some ways this is a comedy, but it is also a window into Victorian society from the point of view of the middle-class working man and his family. We have all the fads of the Victorian age (spiritualism makes an interesting appearance with even the sceptical Pooter getting caught up in the seances his wife and her friend start hosting) and a representation of the conflict between the thirst for progress and the concern inherent within this about "dangerous" ideas which epitomises this age. Pooter is half-pleased, half-concerned when he notes that his son Lupin has some of the same traits as the progressive Huttle: "I feel proud to think Lupin does resemble Mr. Huttle in some ways. Lupin, like Mr Huttle, has original and sometimes wonderful ideas; but it is those ideas that are so dangerous. They make men extremely rich or extremely poor. They make or break men. I always feel people are happier who live a simple unsophisticated life. I believe I am happy because I am not ambitious."
This is a lovely book - the office scenes read a bit like "The Victorian Office" with Pitt the waggish junior clerk playing the part of Tim Canterbury to Pooter's David Brent. I so enjoyed reading it and it was much, much too short for me.
And thank goodness that Charles Pooter, ordinary clerk and Victorian family man decided to follow this course. The humour is gentle but had me in stitches at times and is still as funny today as it must have been for its contemporary audience of Punch readers in the 1890s. One is torn between feeling desperately sorry for Mr Pooter (and recognising that we can all be impossibly pompous and self-important at times) and laughing out loud at the many slights and injuries he receives at the hands of tradesmen and his fellow clerks. When William (now self-styling himself by his middle name "Lupin") arrives on the scene, the action picks up and the scene is set for much more hilarity as Lupin disregards his father and his old-fashioned ways and sets off on a new-fangled modern course which Pooter can only believe will lead to disgrace.
In some ways this is a comedy, but it is also a window into Victorian society from the point of view of the middle-class working man and his family. We have all the fads of the Victorian age (spiritualism makes an interesting appearance with even the sceptical Pooter getting caught up in the seances his wife and her friend start hosting) and a representation of the conflict between the thirst for progress and the concern inherent within this about "dangerous" ideas which epitomises this age. Pooter is half-pleased, half-concerned when he notes that his son Lupin has some of the same traits as the progressive Huttle: "I feel proud to think Lupin does resemble Mr. Huttle in some ways. Lupin, like Mr Huttle, has original and sometimes wonderful ideas; but it is those ideas that are so dangerous. They make men extremely rich or extremely poor. They make or break men. I always feel people are happier who live a simple unsophisticated life. I believe I am happy because I am not ambitious."
This is a lovely book - the office scenes read a bit like "The Victorian Office" with Pitt the waggish junior clerk playing the part of Tim Canterbury to Pooter's David Brent. I so enjoyed reading it and it was much, much too short for me.
December 12, 2023
This is a quick Novella read and at one point I nearly DNF. That said, I’m rather glad I persevered with the book because it grew on me as I progressed. This is a very light hearted read which is based on the period of English middle class at the end of the nineteenth century.
The humour is completely different to what you would expect today in our more modern society. The gentlemanly approach to this is quite charming and more respectable to current comedy that at times can be very harsh, sarcastic and harmful to those that have a tendency to be less resilient to such views.
The relationship of Mr and Mrs Pooter and their son Lupin is quite delightful and the rest of the characters do grow on you.
The added caricature illustrations on various pages throughout the book made the experience more enjoyable for such a light read.
The authors George and Weedon wrote together for Punch and the influence is there to see.
Another Classic in the bag, at least a 3 star.
The humour is completely different to what you would expect today in our more modern society. The gentlemanly approach to this is quite charming and more respectable to current comedy that at times can be very harsh, sarcastic and harmful to those that have a tendency to be less resilient to such views.
The relationship of Mr and Mrs Pooter and their son Lupin is quite delightful and the rest of the characters do grow on you.
The added caricature illustrations on various pages throughout the book made the experience more enjoyable for such a light read.
The authors George and Weedon wrote together for Punch and the influence is there to see.
Another Classic in the bag, at least a 3 star.
March 26, 2022
“I never was so immensely tickled by anything I had ever said before. I actually woke up twice during the night, and laughed till the bed shook.”
Charles Pooter is a middling English man - middle-aged, middle-class, mediocre. He is the author of The Diary of a Nobody, a personal record of his life over a year and a half period. It is filled with short records of everything from troublesome home repairs to social blunders told in a classic British humor style. Entries feature Mr. Pooter, his wife, Carrie, and their young adult son, William Lupin, as well as various acquaintances. Mr. Pooter is under the impression his thoughts on everyday life are valued as he unsuccessfully tries to share his diary with his family.
I decide to read this when I noticed it was on two reading lists: Boxall’s 1001 Books to Read and Guardian’s 1000 Books to Read. This publication was originally serialized in 1888-1889 and it made the lists because it established a recognizable portrait of class, and it influenced the humorous epistolary format. It has been adapted for the stage, radio dramatization, and the screen.
I found the humor bland to mildly funny, and I am thankful I chose an audio format which, I believe, enhanced my overall enjoyment of the book. Martin Jarvis’s voice – haughtiness, pitch, and accent – perfectly fit what I imagined Mr. Pooter to sound like. The classical music snippets were a nice touch. I would definitely recommend the narration.
Readers/listeners who want a light, low-stress story that can be finished quickly should enjoy it, and its clean style makes it suitable for all ages.
Charles Pooter is a middling English man - middle-aged, middle-class, mediocre. He is the author of The Diary of a Nobody, a personal record of his life over a year and a half period. It is filled with short records of everything from troublesome home repairs to social blunders told in a classic British humor style. Entries feature Mr. Pooter, his wife, Carrie, and their young adult son, William Lupin, as well as various acquaintances. Mr. Pooter is under the impression his thoughts on everyday life are valued as he unsuccessfully tries to share his diary with his family.
I decide to read this when I noticed it was on two reading lists: Boxall’s 1001 Books to Read and Guardian’s 1000 Books to Read. This publication was originally serialized in 1888-1889 and it made the lists because it established a recognizable portrait of class, and it influenced the humorous epistolary format. It has been adapted for the stage, radio dramatization, and the screen.
I found the humor bland to mildly funny, and I am thankful I chose an audio format which, I believe, enhanced my overall enjoyment of the book. Martin Jarvis’s voice – haughtiness, pitch, and accent – perfectly fit what I imagined Mr. Pooter to sound like. The classical music snippets were a nice touch. I would definitely recommend the narration.
Readers/listeners who want a light, low-stress story that can be finished quickly should enjoy it, and its clean style makes it suitable for all ages.
March 2, 2021
[18th book of 2021. Artist for this review is Weedon Grossmith, who illustrates the novel.]
3.5. This seems like a fairly suitable read for the point I’m at now, lifting the restraints I put on myself early this year regarding reading, mostly ensuring that I read novels from 1800-1930. I’ve read a lot of Victorian fiction this year, more than I would normally. The Diary of a Nobody is a comic novel, a satire of the 19th century, first published in 1892. People usually talk about a “biting satire” and though this bites, it bites the playfulness of a puppy; it is good-natured, it laughs at itself as well as the century it is coming from. In a way, it reads like a novel ahead of its time.
The humour is fairly mild but the novel appears to know it’s mild—I feel like the Grossmith brothers were laughing at Pooter [the narrator] as much as the reader is supposed to. There were some humorous parts, and many puns. My close friends will know the fastest way to lose my respect is to begin punning around me. Some incidents brought a smile to my face. There is one scene where Pooter makes some remark about a woman’s portrait on the wall and the man says that it is his wife’s sister, painted after death. Pooter attempts to save the awkwardness by remarking of a gentleman’s portrait, “Who is this jovial looking gentleman? Life doesn’t seem to trouble him much”, to which the man says, “No, it doesn’t. He is dead too—my brother.
The humour, whether it is truly funny or not, drives this piece. It is an epistolary novel, portrayed through Pooter’s diaries. Pooter is actually quite a great character (though his charm, and indeed the charm of the whole novel wears thin a little before the end), he believes he is remarkably funny, intelligent and witty. He often, before quoting things he has said throughout the day, reports how quick he was, or how clever he is. Of course, we laugh at him and pity him. I won’t quote any of the jokes, they aren’t brilliantly funny enough to survive their punchlines being ruined.
My rating is purely personal, then. It is a light, satirical little novel about middle-class England and I am glad to have read it. I only wanted more. It is mostly plotless, made from sketches more than anything, and never reaches a deeper or more philosophical level than its face value. Having said that, it is the portrait of an “ordinary” life and Pooter is a “nobody”, another human being bumbling through life as best as they can. We used do an exercise with books we were studying to find the “emotional core”, if we could find the whole core of the novel distilled into just a few lines. I think I found it when Pooter writes this: I always feel people are happier who live a simple unsophisticated life. I believe I am happy because I am not ambitious. I don’t necessarily disagree with Pooter on this point.
3.5. This seems like a fairly suitable read for the point I’m at now, lifting the restraints I put on myself early this year regarding reading, mostly ensuring that I read novels from 1800-1930. I’ve read a lot of Victorian fiction this year, more than I would normally. The Diary of a Nobody is a comic novel, a satire of the 19th century, first published in 1892. People usually talk about a “biting satire” and though this bites, it bites the playfulness of a puppy; it is good-natured, it laughs at itself as well as the century it is coming from. In a way, it reads like a novel ahead of its time.
The humour is fairly mild but the novel appears to know it’s mild—I feel like the Grossmith brothers were laughing at Pooter [the narrator] as much as the reader is supposed to. There were some humorous parts, and many puns. My close friends will know the fastest way to lose my respect is to begin punning around me. Some incidents brought a smile to my face. There is one scene where Pooter makes some remark about a woman’s portrait on the wall and the man says that it is his wife’s sister, painted after death. Pooter attempts to save the awkwardness by remarking of a gentleman’s portrait, “Who is this jovial looking gentleman? Life doesn’t seem to trouble him much”, to which the man says, “No, it doesn’t. He is dead too—my brother.
The humour, whether it is truly funny or not, drives this piece. It is an epistolary novel, portrayed through Pooter’s diaries. Pooter is actually quite a great character (though his charm, and indeed the charm of the whole novel wears thin a little before the end), he believes he is remarkably funny, intelligent and witty. He often, before quoting things he has said throughout the day, reports how quick he was, or how clever he is. Of course, we laugh at him and pity him. I won’t quote any of the jokes, they aren’t brilliantly funny enough to survive their punchlines being ruined.
My rating is purely personal, then. It is a light, satirical little novel about middle-class England and I am glad to have read it. I only wanted more. It is mostly plotless, made from sketches more than anything, and never reaches a deeper or more philosophical level than its face value. Having said that, it is the portrait of an “ordinary” life and Pooter is a “nobody”, another human being bumbling through life as best as they can. We used do an exercise with books we were studying to find the “emotional core”, if we could find the whole core of the novel distilled into just a few lines. I think I found it when Pooter writes this: I always feel people are happier who live a simple unsophisticated life. I believe I am happy because I am not ambitious. I don’t necessarily disagree with Pooter on this point.
June 22, 2008
Bumbling Charles Pooter's memoir of timeless suburban angst The Diary of a Nobody (1892) remains remarkably modern and amusing even a century after it was first printed in Punch. Pooter can't understand his son's slang or dismal work ethic ... his wife is spellbound by new age spiritualism ... his friends continually clean out his larder and drain his wine bottles without reciprocating ... the plumbing doesn't work ... the neighbors throw garbage into his garden ... and fate seems determined to insult and embarrass the stodgy old Pooter at every turn. And yet you can't help but like him as he strives to retain his dignity, grace, and composure in the face of life's small yet annoying trials. Best read a few pages at a time, the Diary offers wonderful comic relief when read along with heavier contemporary novels.
December 11, 2022
This was a somewhat odd little book, containing a diary about a sometimes pompous, irrelevant man, that somehow managed to get me tittering to myself over coffee, on several occasions. I'm not sure if it's the weather, or just the timing, but either way; I laughed.
I found it funny that this man records everything, however trivial that has the audacity to rock his ever peaceful and orderly life. What we are told in this book are about how he spends his days, and when something upsets that notion, he lets his diary know.
This book gave some insight into what it might be like for the English middle class of the time, and I thought it was done rather well, but for me, it was a little too short.
I found it funny that this man records everything, however trivial that has the audacity to rock his ever peaceful and orderly life. What we are told in this book are about how he spends his days, and when something upsets that notion, he lets his diary know.
This book gave some insight into what it might be like for the English middle class of the time, and I thought it was done rather well, but for me, it was a little too short.
January 25, 2016
Mr. Pooter decides to keep a diary in the hopes of one day becoming the Pepys of the late Victorian era. He is a clerk of a somewhat stuffy and pompous nature but with a love of bad puns and jokes (luckily for him his wife shares his sense of humor!).
I found him a little reminiscent of "The Irish R.M." in his never-ending series of domestic mishaps - both of these books amuse yet puzzle me. As a person who has never even seen a domestic servant much less employed one, the battle of control between master & servant baffles me to some extent. It clearly baffles Mr. Pooter as well! He persists in thinking that he is the master and so is deserving of respect despite the fact that he rarely gets that respect even from his own son.
Grossmith's satire has captured the beginning of the end for the middle-class Victorian way of life with Pooter and his son. Pooter's worries about his son Lupin's future could be seen as a reflection of a greater concern about security and expectations for the middle-class workers and their families if the rigidity of the old-fashioned methods gives way, while Lupin's attitudes point up the impatience of the rising generation with the adherence to outmoded ideas and practices.
I found him a little reminiscent of "The Irish R.M." in his never-ending series of domestic mishaps - both of these books amuse yet puzzle me. As a person who has never even seen a domestic servant much less employed one, the battle of control between master & servant baffles me to some extent. It clearly baffles Mr. Pooter as well! He persists in thinking that he is the master and so is deserving of respect despite the fact that he rarely gets that respect even from his own son.
Grossmith's satire has captured the beginning of the end for the middle-class Victorian way of life with Pooter and his son. Pooter's worries about his son Lupin's future could be seen as a reflection of a greater concern about security and expectations for the middle-class workers and their families if the rigidity of the old-fashioned methods gives way, while Lupin's attitudes point up the impatience of the rising generation with the adherence to outmoded ideas and practices.
April 8, 2024
Aptly titled. It is the diary of a bore. Every generation spawns them and they are a precious commodity for writers. We all dread being cast as one. Alan Bennett has introduced us to a few in his monologues. Patricia Routledge, as the irrepressible Hyacinth Buckett in “Keeping up Appearances”, kept the nation’s TV watchers hooked for a season or two, becoming something of a national treasure. But her snobbishness had a priceless vulgarity that betrayed her roots. This social climbing is almost endearing and can be timelessly funny. Charlie Pooter, the central character here, on the other hand, is anything but. He is quintessentially English. His mission in life is never to rock the boat. He is the sort of man we English invented a queue for.
His spivvy, rebellious 20 year old son is a different kettle of fish. In the later 1970s he would have been a punk.
Humour is a personal thing, I guess. It didn’t work for me here. I suspect it has not aged well. I found it embarrassingly English. Lovely book cover though.
His spivvy, rebellious 20 year old son is a different kettle of fish. In the later 1970s he would have been a punk.
Humour is a personal thing, I guess. It didn’t work for me here. I suspect it has not aged well. I found it embarrassingly English. Lovely book cover though.
August 16, 2018
The perfect summer read. You can read it on the beach and expect to crack a few smiles or even, perhaps, a chuckle or two.
There's barely a story to this. A vaguely ridiculous middle class Victorian man decides to write a diary. His problems are mundane. Conflict with friends, troubles with his son, an obsession with promotion. I fear the humour is sometimes outdated, relying too much on repetition but most of the times it is genuinly funny. The ending is also clearly an attempt at coherency which the story was never supposed to have. Still, a funny read, one I recommend.
There's barely a story to this. A vaguely ridiculous middle class Victorian man decides to write a diary. His problems are mundane. Conflict with friends, troubles with his son, an obsession with promotion. I fear the humour is sometimes outdated, relying too much on repetition but most of the times it is genuinly funny. The ending is also clearly an attempt at coherency which the story was never supposed to have. Still, a funny read, one I recommend.
May 9, 2020
Why should I not publish my diary? I have often seen reminiscences of people I have never even heard of, and I fail to see – because I do not happen to be a “Somebody” – why my diary should not be interesting. My only regret is that I did not commence it when I was a youth.
There weren’t any bloggers in the Victorian Era, right? Mr. Charles Pooter is here to prove you wrong.
Meticulously writing down the “important” events of his every-day life as a clerk, Pooter introduces us to his wife and son, Lupin, his friends Gowing and Cummin, and to some other no less funny characters, which are all depicted humorously, each with his peculiar flaws and virtues.
The book is hilarious and heartwarming. I was cracking with laughter on almost every page, but nevertheless sympathized with Pooter; he is a likable character, prone to accidents, but good-natured and honest. His son, Lupin, who arrives him after being fired from his job, also evokes understanding, although he’s sometimes dishonest and too full of self-conceit.
The Diary of Nobody is indeed a comic masterpiece. Worth a read. Just for the good, old laugh.
There weren’t any bloggers in the Victorian Era, right? Mr. Charles Pooter is here to prove you wrong.
Meticulously writing down the “important” events of his every-day life as a clerk, Pooter introduces us to his wife and son, Lupin, his friends Gowing and Cummin, and to some other no less funny characters, which are all depicted humorously, each with his peculiar flaws and virtues.
The book is hilarious and heartwarming. I was cracking with laughter on almost every page, but nevertheless sympathized with Pooter; he is a likable character, prone to accidents, but good-natured and honest. His son, Lupin, who arrives him after being fired from his job, also evokes understanding, although he’s sometimes dishonest and too full of self-conceit.
The Diary of Nobody is indeed a comic masterpiece. Worth a read. Just for the good, old laugh.
October 24, 2022
امتیاز واقعی 3/5
توی این شرایط و حال بد روحی کتاب شیرینی بود
توی این شرایط و حال بد روحی کتاب شیرینی بود
January 20, 2023
Mr. Charles Pooter, I do believe you think yourself funnier than anyone else does.
This fictional diary of the day-to-day life of Charles Pooter, a middle-class husband living in Victorian London, was funny and enlightening. While Charles did grate on me at times, I enjoyed this light-hearted look at life during a specific moment in time. I appreciated his kindness to his wife, Carrie, and was equally frustrated by their lay-about son, Lupin. Charles' friends Cummings and Gowing (get it?) are always showing up unannounced or else being truly terrible friends...as Charles is to them as well. Thus more hilarity ensues.
If you have read any of the diaries of Samuel Pepys, I found the humor here to be in a similar vein. I will say that some of the jokes went over my modern American head but I'm sure the people of the day found them very funny indeed.
While this won't be a favorite of mine, the puns got a bit old as the diary went on, I still found it an enjoyable read and would recommend it to fans of the Victorian era who are looking for a frothy little read.
This fictional diary of the day-to-day life of Charles Pooter, a middle-class husband living in Victorian London, was funny and enlightening. While Charles did grate on me at times, I enjoyed this light-hearted look at life during a specific moment in time. I appreciated his kindness to his wife, Carrie, and was equally frustrated by their lay-about son, Lupin. Charles' friends Cummings and Gowing (get it?) are always showing up unannounced or else being truly terrible friends...as Charles is to them as well. Thus more hilarity ensues.
If you have read any of the diaries of Samuel Pepys, I found the humor here to be in a similar vein. I will say that some of the jokes went over my modern American head but I'm sure the people of the day found them very funny indeed.
While this won't be a favorite of mine, the puns got a bit old as the diary went on, I still found it an enjoyable read and would recommend it to fans of the Victorian era who are looking for a frothy little read.
March 31, 2022
Among the many things that are used to describe "The Diary of A Nobody", there are two which are most frequently cited. One is the term, "accidental masterpiece", meaning that the Grossmith brothers, both gifted comedians of the era, never intended that their comic novel, disguised as a diary of a nobody, or rather of one of the most memorable narrators and protagonists of comedic fiction, should be as good and influential as it is. The second thing is that many, including me, think it to be hilarious in the best sense while there are also many other readers, as evidenced by many unimpressed 3-star reviews here on Goodreads itself, who believe that the book is hardly the comedic masterpiece it is made out to be.
On reading the actual novel itself, one realises just how misleading these two descriptions can be. "The Diary Of A Nobody" is a brilliant novel, a superb specimen of Grossmith' self-conscious comedic style that would later inspire a whole generation of comedic troupes in the subsequent century - Monty Python's sketches of suburban England, with Terry Jones as the gullible housewife and Graham Chapman playing the middle-class husband, come most to the mind - and even on its own, is a wistful and nostalgic ode to an older, more genial but not necessarily innocent way of life before materialism and capitalism reached on the throes of the British Isles across the Atlantic. And while it might not be chock full of side-splitting gags or one-liners, the hilarity and the warm humour is derived from its humdrum protagonist and his hapless attempts to make some sense of his boisterous and moody friends, his dealings with servants and shopkeepers, his wayward and flippant son and the fast-changing ways of the world around him.
Charles Pooter starts recording the daily experiences, observations and events of his humdrum life from a certain April in an unnamed year and the diary, despite his intentions about half-way to finish it on a whim of temporary disillusionment, goes on for the next fifteen months, though, again, entries for a few months are missing due to a hilarious misadventure which I won't reveal to you right now. Pooter and his wife Carrie have just moved in, at the beginning of their diary, into a new suburban house which they have taken on rent and right from the initial pages, the Grossmiths get us acquainted with not only this mild-mannered couple, sometimes quarreling but always more or less in happy and even loving agreement with each other, but also Pooter's old friends, Gowing who is, in the narrator's words, always "coming" and Cummings who is always "going". There is a most eclectic cast of characters who step in and out of their lives and the pages of Pooter's diary - unpredictable shopkeepers, new acquaintances who turn out to be more unwelcome than ever, a kind and affable boss of many years, an uncouth and rude young colleague, some more friends and relatives and, most memorably, the son Lupin himself, always in or out of some trouble or misadventure.
Pooter's interactions with Lupin are what lifts the novel out of its endlessly amusing tenor - a thing to which I will turn now. In its own simple, warmly funny but profound way, the novel reveals a definite point of divergence between the old and the new, between the contented and the ambitious, between the genial and the reckless. Lupin's frivolity is a rude contrast to old Pooter's anxious concern that he should not offend anybody else, which he ends up doing unwittingly much to his detriment and our bemused enjoyment. At heart, what makes Pooter such an endearing character and chronicler of these events and incidents and even his innermost thoughts and reflections, even as they might seem insignificant to a more skeptical reader, is the plain, unadorned honesty and sincerity with which he records them in his diary. His only object in life is to get by without much fuss, with his wife, whom he loves and adores, despite the occasional disagreements, and with his old friends, whom he cannot get rid of, despite their not-so-innocent form of mischief and humour, largely directed on him, as it should be. And thus in this simple yearning for contentment, Pooter makes us root for him, he makes us hope that he gets his happy ending, whatever it may be, at the end of this diary, if not really at the end of his own life, which he cannot control yet.
It is thus this tender core of humanistic warmth and empathy that defines "The Diary Of A Nobody" and distinguishes it from most other comedic works. Unlike others, the Grossmiths do not revel in Pooter's simplicity and limited imagination; yes, they do tease it and poke some gentle fun at it when his earnestness gets the better of him; we laugh at Pooter's incapacity to make sense of the world and its strange, even startling ways around him but we laugh even more raucously at the very people around him - they are the butt of our jokes and laughter and in the end, we find ourselves siding with this almost elderly man because his despair and confusion are as real and believable as his flaws and inadequacies. Yes, "The Diary of A Nobody" is hilarious, much more than it gets credit for, but it is also heartwarming in the most unexpected ways too.
Reading it as I find myself on the throes of the thirties, I was reminded time and again of just how much Pooter's story, told so skilfully by the writers with a style so conversational and unaffected that never do we doubt its realism, resonates with us all. I see my father, now a dignified gent in his sixties, still working, still keeping his mind and body alert and agile as ever (God bless him) and I find in him something of a reflection of Pooter himself, hoping against hope, still endowed with old-fashioned virtues of honesty and duty. In Pooter himself, I find a sad reminder for us all of a time when it was considered to be noble and honourable to do one's duty, to be loyal, to be even contented with less. Surely, these are things that we cannot abide by anymore; it is beyond us. But the greatest quality of "The Diary Of A Nobody" beyond its humour will always be its heartwarming quality of innocence, resilience and simple happiness, all of which have been lost forever as a relic of the past.
On reading the actual novel itself, one realises just how misleading these two descriptions can be. "The Diary Of A Nobody" is a brilliant novel, a superb specimen of Grossmith' self-conscious comedic style that would later inspire a whole generation of comedic troupes in the subsequent century - Monty Python's sketches of suburban England, with Terry Jones as the gullible housewife and Graham Chapman playing the middle-class husband, come most to the mind - and even on its own, is a wistful and nostalgic ode to an older, more genial but not necessarily innocent way of life before materialism and capitalism reached on the throes of the British Isles across the Atlantic. And while it might not be chock full of side-splitting gags or one-liners, the hilarity and the warm humour is derived from its humdrum protagonist and his hapless attempts to make some sense of his boisterous and moody friends, his dealings with servants and shopkeepers, his wayward and flippant son and the fast-changing ways of the world around him.
Charles Pooter starts recording the daily experiences, observations and events of his humdrum life from a certain April in an unnamed year and the diary, despite his intentions about half-way to finish it on a whim of temporary disillusionment, goes on for the next fifteen months, though, again, entries for a few months are missing due to a hilarious misadventure which I won't reveal to you right now. Pooter and his wife Carrie have just moved in, at the beginning of their diary, into a new suburban house which they have taken on rent and right from the initial pages, the Grossmiths get us acquainted with not only this mild-mannered couple, sometimes quarreling but always more or less in happy and even loving agreement with each other, but also Pooter's old friends, Gowing who is, in the narrator's words, always "coming" and Cummings who is always "going". There is a most eclectic cast of characters who step in and out of their lives and the pages of Pooter's diary - unpredictable shopkeepers, new acquaintances who turn out to be more unwelcome than ever, a kind and affable boss of many years, an uncouth and rude young colleague, some more friends and relatives and, most memorably, the son Lupin himself, always in or out of some trouble or misadventure.
Pooter's interactions with Lupin are what lifts the novel out of its endlessly amusing tenor - a thing to which I will turn now. In its own simple, warmly funny but profound way, the novel reveals a definite point of divergence between the old and the new, between the contented and the ambitious, between the genial and the reckless. Lupin's frivolity is a rude contrast to old Pooter's anxious concern that he should not offend anybody else, which he ends up doing unwittingly much to his detriment and our bemused enjoyment. At heart, what makes Pooter such an endearing character and chronicler of these events and incidents and even his innermost thoughts and reflections, even as they might seem insignificant to a more skeptical reader, is the plain, unadorned honesty and sincerity with which he records them in his diary. His only object in life is to get by without much fuss, with his wife, whom he loves and adores, despite the occasional disagreements, and with his old friends, whom he cannot get rid of, despite their not-so-innocent form of mischief and humour, largely directed on him, as it should be. And thus in this simple yearning for contentment, Pooter makes us root for him, he makes us hope that he gets his happy ending, whatever it may be, at the end of this diary, if not really at the end of his own life, which he cannot control yet.
It is thus this tender core of humanistic warmth and empathy that defines "The Diary Of A Nobody" and distinguishes it from most other comedic works. Unlike others, the Grossmiths do not revel in Pooter's simplicity and limited imagination; yes, they do tease it and poke some gentle fun at it when his earnestness gets the better of him; we laugh at Pooter's incapacity to make sense of the world and its strange, even startling ways around him but we laugh even more raucously at the very people around him - they are the butt of our jokes and laughter and in the end, we find ourselves siding with this almost elderly man because his despair and confusion are as real and believable as his flaws and inadequacies. Yes, "The Diary of A Nobody" is hilarious, much more than it gets credit for, but it is also heartwarming in the most unexpected ways too.
Reading it as I find myself on the throes of the thirties, I was reminded time and again of just how much Pooter's story, told so skilfully by the writers with a style so conversational and unaffected that never do we doubt its realism, resonates with us all. I see my father, now a dignified gent in his sixties, still working, still keeping his mind and body alert and agile as ever (God bless him) and I find in him something of a reflection of Pooter himself, hoping against hope, still endowed with old-fashioned virtues of honesty and duty. In Pooter himself, I find a sad reminder for us all of a time when it was considered to be noble and honourable to do one's duty, to be loyal, to be even contented with less. Surely, these are things that we cannot abide by anymore; it is beyond us. But the greatest quality of "The Diary Of A Nobody" beyond its humour will always be its heartwarming quality of innocence, resilience and simple happiness, all of which have been lost forever as a relic of the past.
April 11, 2012
It is with the uttermost pleasure that I read through the diary of Mr Charles Pooter of Holloway, London.
Mark my words, this gentleman was certainly not a Nobody.
I am aware that the excellent Mrs Pooter and the author's own son, Mr Lupin Pooter, didn't value the diary much. Nonetheless, it is my strong belief that they are both mistaken in this respect.
By Jove! This distinguished gentleman - which is to say Mr Charles Pooter - not only mastered his business in the City but knew very well how to draw the most exquisite portrait of a suburban life. A life that you might think of as quintessentially dull, but it shines as actually quite amusing, refreshing and dignified in this most valued diary.
It is suffice to say that I am utterly delighted to discover that a man of such moral stature and of supremely noble behaviour such as Mr Pooter left his mark in the history of British literature.
To tell you the truth, I value Mr Charles Pooter over the whole lot of the most accomplished humourists that England has had the privilege to breed. You might object that Jerome and Wodehouse did rather well in the same literary department and that this Nobody does not deserve to share their fame.
To which objection I reply in this way; true, good old John Klapka Jerome and P.G. Wodehouse might have been particularly good when it came to depict funny vignettes and unforgettable characters, but what Charles Pooter gave to the Anglo-Saxon readers is much more: and it is style.
In fact, I am proud to state that all of its undeniable mastery the work of both authors pale by comparison to the one of Mr Pooter of Holloway.
By the by, shall we forget to mention Mr Pooter's uproarius word jokes?
No, we shall better not.
For Mr Charles Pooter was first and foremost a diarist and a chronicler of his times (in this respect quite capable to look at a master like Samuel Pepys eye to eye), but also one of the wittiest men around.
How regretful to think that a gentleman of such intellectual stature didn't have the chance to meet with his peers!
For even though this diary covers a span of only a few months in the life and opinions of Charles Pooter, it is quite clear that his sharp wit was not recognized by his family, friends and acquaintances.
And this Pooterish knowledge is excruciatingly painful to bear.
Hail to the brilliant Mr George Grossmith for making Mr Charles Pooter's literary legacy known to the readers of today!
Mark my words, this gentleman was certainly not a Nobody.
I am aware that the excellent Mrs Pooter and the author's own son, Mr Lupin Pooter, didn't value the diary much. Nonetheless, it is my strong belief that they are both mistaken in this respect.
By Jove! This distinguished gentleman - which is to say Mr Charles Pooter - not only mastered his business in the City but knew very well how to draw the most exquisite portrait of a suburban life. A life that you might think of as quintessentially dull, but it shines as actually quite amusing, refreshing and dignified in this most valued diary.
It is suffice to say that I am utterly delighted to discover that a man of such moral stature and of supremely noble behaviour such as Mr Pooter left his mark in the history of British literature.
To tell you the truth, I value Mr Charles Pooter over the whole lot of the most accomplished humourists that England has had the privilege to breed. You might object that Jerome and Wodehouse did rather well in the same literary department and that this Nobody does not deserve to share their fame.
To which objection I reply in this way; true, good old John Klapka Jerome and P.G. Wodehouse might have been particularly good when it came to depict funny vignettes and unforgettable characters, but what Charles Pooter gave to the Anglo-Saxon readers is much more: and it is style.
In fact, I am proud to state that all of its undeniable mastery the work of both authors pale by comparison to the one of Mr Pooter of Holloway.
By the by, shall we forget to mention Mr Pooter's uproarius word jokes?
No, we shall better not.
For Mr Charles Pooter was first and foremost a diarist and a chronicler of his times (in this respect quite capable to look at a master like Samuel Pepys eye to eye), but also one of the wittiest men around.
How regretful to think that a gentleman of such intellectual stature didn't have the chance to meet with his peers!
For even though this diary covers a span of only a few months in the life and opinions of Charles Pooter, it is quite clear that his sharp wit was not recognized by his family, friends and acquaintances.
And this Pooterish knowledge is excruciatingly painful to bear.
Hail to the brilliant Mr George Grossmith for making Mr Charles Pooter's literary legacy known to the readers of today!
May 29, 2017
"Why should I not publish my diary? I have often seen reminiscences of people I have never even heard of, and I fail to see—because I do not happen to be a 'Somebody'—why my diary should not be interesting."
This book is about the fortunes and misfortunes of Charles Pooter, his family and his friends. It was fun to read. I specially liked Mr. Pooter's silly jokes, some of which made me laugh out loud!
This book is about the fortunes and misfortunes of Charles Pooter, his family and his friends. It was fun to read. I specially liked Mr. Pooter's silly jokes, some of which made me laugh out loud!
April 21, 2013
Thirty years before Sinclair Lewis published Babbit and set the standard for smug, self-important middle-class conformity, there was The Diary of a Nobody and Charles Pooter. Pooter, a senior bank clerk in the City renting a home in the London suburb of Holloway, encapsulates Victorian respectability, snobbery, and pretensions. Pooter nearly invariably gets the short end of the stick in his interactions with his two neighbors, Cummings and Gowings; his spendthrift, reckless son Lupin; and the various tradesmen and servants he attempts to bully. Slavishly devoted to his employer, Mr. Perkupp, Pooter tries without much luck to cut his son into the same mold. Instead, Lupin slacks at work and spends his nights engaged in amateur theatrics or carousing with his chums till all hours. What's a father to do?
First serialized in Punch in 1888 and 1889, The Diary of a Nobody was published in book form in 1892 and hasn't been out of print since. If you give this slim volume a chance (available for free in the Kindle format), you'll see why. Despite being a century old, The Diary of a Nobody remains quite amusing and is laugh-out-loud funny in parts -- particularly in sections dealing with tradesmen or with Lupin's impetuous business dealings or love affairs. As long as there are self-satisfied petit bourgeois snobs, The Diary of a Nobody will continue to entertain.
First serialized in Punch in 1888 and 1889, The Diary of a Nobody was published in book form in 1892 and hasn't been out of print since. If you give this slim volume a chance (available for free in the Kindle format), you'll see why. Despite being a century old, The Diary of a Nobody remains quite amusing and is laugh-out-loud funny in parts -- particularly in sections dealing with tradesmen or with Lupin's impetuous business dealings or love affairs. As long as there are self-satisfied petit bourgeois snobs, The Diary of a Nobody will continue to entertain.
September 25, 2013
I really like Pooter’s terrible jokes. I know I’m not supposed to, but shit puns make me happy…
‘The Diary of a Nobody’ goes nowhere and does nothing - but it is still an utterly compelling read.
It is from the novel’s central character that we derive the term ‘Pooterism’ (Noun: to take oneself grotesquely seriously.) But this is unfair.
Charles Pooter is constantly throwing out gags and half-arsed one-liners to people. It’s just unfortunate that only he (and occasionally his wife, Carrie) is bright enough to understand them…
Victorian society apparently looked quite darkly on terrible puns.*
*Apart from when Dickens did them, obviously…
‘The Diary of a Nobody’ goes nowhere and does nothing - but it is still an utterly compelling read.
It is from the novel’s central character that we derive the term ‘Pooterism’ (Noun: to take oneself grotesquely seriously.) But this is unfair.
Charles Pooter is constantly throwing out gags and half-arsed one-liners to people. It’s just unfortunate that only he (and occasionally his wife, Carrie) is bright enough to understand them…
Victorian society apparently looked quite darkly on terrible puns.*
*Apart from when Dickens did them, obviously…
May 10, 2016
A remarkably unique work of humour. Wasn't the Wodehousian kind with bubbling verve and
contrivance nor the Jeromian kind with riotous and extreme slapsticks and engulfing philosophy. It sported laid-back and believable everyday humour with not so readily apparent existential undercurrents. Made for a very relaxing read, just what I've come to expect of a classic.
contrivance nor the Jeromian kind with riotous and extreme slapsticks and engulfing philosophy. It sported laid-back and believable everyday humour with not so readily apparent existential undercurrents. Made for a very relaxing read, just what I've come to expect of a classic.
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