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The Napolean of Notting Hill
The Napoleon of Notting Hill is G. K. Chesterton's first novel. Published in 1904, it is set at the end of the twentieth century. London is still a city of gas lamps and horse-drawn vehicles, but democratic government has withered away, and a representative ordinary citizen is simply chosen for a list to be king.
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First published November 12, 1904
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About the author
G.K. Chesterton
4,405 books5,694 followersGilbert Keith Chesterton was an English writer, philosopher, lay theologian, and literary and art critic.
He was educated at St. Paul’s, and went to art school at University College London. In 1900, he was asked to contribute a few magazine articles on art criticism, and went on to become one of the most prolific writers of all time. He wrote a hundred books, contributions to 200 more, hundreds of poems, including the epic Ballad of the White Horse, five plays, five novels, and some two hundred short stories, including a popular series featuring the priest-detective, Father Brown. In spite of his literary accomplishments, he considered himself primarily a journalist. He wrote over 4000 newspaper essays, including 30 years worth of weekly columns for the Illustrated London News, and 13 years of weekly columns for the Daily News. He also edited his own newspaper, G.K.’s Weekly.
Chesterton was equally at ease with literary and social criticism, history, politics, economics, philosophy, and theology.
He was educated at St. Paul’s, and went to art school at University College London. In 1900, he was asked to contribute a few magazine articles on art criticism, and went on to become one of the most prolific writers of all time. He wrote a hundred books, contributions to 200 more, hundreds of poems, including the epic Ballad of the White Horse, five plays, five novels, and some two hundred short stories, including a popular series featuring the priest-detective, Father Brown. In spite of his literary accomplishments, he considered himself primarily a journalist. He wrote over 4000 newspaper essays, including 30 years worth of weekly columns for the Illustrated London News, and 13 years of weekly columns for the Daily News. He also edited his own newspaper, G.K.’s Weekly.
Chesterton was equally at ease with literary and social criticism, history, politics, economics, philosophy, and theology.
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February 22, 2025Odd, strange, fantastical book that has an alternative Victorian Britain reverting to a happy neo-medievalism in which the commonest of goods has become mysterious and beautiful. This all about a re-enchantment of the world, I think Chesterton prefigures Max Weber in suggesting a solution before the latter had argued that disenchantment was a consequence of modernity.
Chesterton dances around having fun in a story that allows 'modern Britain' to revert, indeed in fact be reverted to Merrie England though military action by a handful of fanatics under the benign gaze of a king chosen by lottery who thinks it's all a laugh.
Fits in with the Victorian interest in the Gothic and Medieval and G K Chesterton's offbeat Catholicism but more particularly with the idea of disenchantment. The hero is in rebellion against the disappearance of magic from the world and is quite prepared to use violence to restore it. Thankfully it was a Catholic who wrote this in bygone days - what would the furore be like if a Muslim was to write something similar today.
We did not, I think, arrive at the present because a god descended on to the stage of history declaring that they were bored and it was time for a renaissance, modernity has developed from our past, can we then believe that a return to the past can be permanent? Won't the pattern just repeat itself. Can neo-medieval 'merrie England' be hermetically sealed from the rest of the world except for a few luxury products for the population to wonder and marvel at? And what might modern-medieval merchants trade to buy those luxury products? Well never mind, none of that matters to Chesterton.
What does matter is that the motive force in politics for Chesterton is passion, if that happens to be based on erroneous beliefs as in this case we are shown is the case, doesn't matter, purity of belief will win out over mere facts. One does not need the Party and Room 101, Orwell is an optimist we learn from Chesterton, people will very effectively delude themselves, and what is more this in the author's view is good, such self delusion does not merely change the world, it saves it. Sadly convinced neo-medievalists don't clash with equally convinced modernists, in Chesteron's world the true faith always has the initiative.
Thinking about this book in 2025, I feel that you can see it as a sympathetic vision of Trump II and similar regimes around the world. Let's all go back to a magical past and enjoy the Black Death again!
Or to express it in another way Chesterton remains fresh and prescient, more than other writers who we might admire more from a literary point of view.
Chesterton dances around having fun in a story that allows 'modern Britain' to revert, indeed in fact be reverted to Merrie England though military action by a handful of fanatics under the benign gaze of a king chosen by lottery who thinks it's all a laugh.
Fits in with the Victorian interest in the Gothic and Medieval and G K Chesterton's offbeat Catholicism but more particularly with the idea of disenchantment. The hero is in rebellion against the disappearance of magic from the world and is quite prepared to use violence to restore it. Thankfully it was a Catholic who wrote this in bygone days - what would the furore be like if a Muslim was to write something similar today.
We did not, I think, arrive at the present because a god descended on to the stage of history declaring that they were bored and it was time for a renaissance, modernity has developed from our past, can we then believe that a return to the past can be permanent? Won't the pattern just repeat itself. Can neo-medieval 'merrie England' be hermetically sealed from the rest of the world except for a few luxury products for the population to wonder and marvel at? And what might modern-medieval merchants trade to buy those luxury products? Well never mind, none of that matters to Chesterton.
What does matter is that the motive force in politics for Chesterton is passion, if that happens to be based on erroneous beliefs as in this case we are shown is the case, doesn't matter, purity of belief will win out over mere facts. One does not need the Party and Room 101, Orwell is an optimist we learn from Chesterton, people will very effectively delude themselves, and what is more this in the author's view is good, such self delusion does not merely change the world, it saves it. Sadly convinced neo-medievalists don't clash with equally convinced modernists, in Chesteron's world the true faith always has the initiative.
Thinking about this book in 2025, I feel that you can see it as a sympathetic vision of Trump II and similar regimes around the world. Let's all go back to a magical past and enjoy the Black Death again!
Or to express it in another way Chesterton remains fresh and prescient, more than other writers who we might admire more from a literary point of view.
December 8, 2009
I once read an Amazon list titled "Chesterton is the Besterton." Now I understand why.
The Napoleon of Notting Hill is set in an alternate 1984, one that isn't much different than 1904. Technology stopped progressing and most people stopped caring about government. Democracy has given way to despotism, because one idiot's opinion is as good as the opinion of all of them, to paraphrase the text. All of this changes when Auberon Quin is randomly selected as the King of England.
Python-esque humor abounds as Quin makes more and more ridiculous demands as a joke and commentary on how broken the system is. When he makes each burrough of London an independent nation, one man takes the joke seriously...
Chesterton's writing is good, both descriptive and full of dry wit. While much of the plot is whimsical, the battles are fairly well thought out and well written. The underlying theme of change being important is understated and never smacking us in the head.
In short, this is probably the best book I've read all year.
The Napoleon of Notting Hill is set in an alternate 1984, one that isn't much different than 1904. Technology stopped progressing and most people stopped caring about government. Democracy has given way to despotism, because one idiot's opinion is as good as the opinion of all of them, to paraphrase the text. All of this changes when Auberon Quin is randomly selected as the King of England.
Python-esque humor abounds as Quin makes more and more ridiculous demands as a joke and commentary on how broken the system is. When he makes each burrough of London an independent nation, one man takes the joke seriously...
Chesterton's writing is good, both descriptive and full of dry wit. While much of the plot is whimsical, the battles are fairly well thought out and well written. The underlying theme of change being important is understated and never smacking us in the head.
In short, this is probably the best book I've read all year.
September 30, 2009
Broadly speaking, this 1904 imagining of the world of the late 20th century and beyond can be called science fiction, but it's strictly a speculation in the social, not the technological, sciences; Chesterton had little interest in technology, --and, indeed, posits a future with no new technology, its material culture unchanged, when the novel opens, from that of his own Edwardian world. It's also an imagining that, in some particulars, could almost be called surreal, and much of it is laced with Chesterton's characteristic dry but zany, screwball humor (the flavor of which is conveyed by the opening words, "The human race, to which so many of my readers belong...."). Readers should be warned at the outset that plausibility isn't his strong suit; or, really, his strong concern, either. His concern, rather, is with making certain points.
Some of the most important and obvious of these points are social in nature. Chesterton already lived in an age, like our own, in which the powers that be exalted the centralization of political and economic power and the homogenization of culture and society; their vision of Utopia was one in which all the world was subsumed into one huge mass society with all human differences and all local particularism erased, and all of it dominated and pervaded by an all-consuming ethos of materialism. (Of course, in our day, this process is a lot further advanced than it was in Chesterton's.) Chesterton recognized that goal as the nightmare that it in fact is, and set against it a vision of small-scale society and particularism, where considerations other than monetary profit would be determining factors in human behavior. His vision, in fact, is an early forerunner and adumbration of the one E. F. Schumacher outlines in Small Is Beautiful (to which Martin Gardner alludes in the helpful introduction to the Dover edition, which is the one that I read).
Another of his points is philosophical, dealing with the relation of humor to seriousness. At first blush, the humorous tone of much of the book seems out of place in a novel dealing with serious issues, and a plot that involves serious war, with real blood running in the streets. But Chesterton would say that, in a universe that involves so much apparent absurdity, both humor and fervent seriousness need to be part of the same mind, if that mind wants to stay sane.
There are problems with the execution of this novel. Some of its basic premises --a 1984 London technologically unchanged from 1904; the idea that a technocratic society would dispense kingship by lot, or limit itself to employing swords and halberds in warfare; and especially the possibility of Adam Wayne getting anybody, let alone a whole neighborhood, to follow him-- are wildly implausible. The scheme for the development of a new neighborhood-destroying roadway (foreshadowing the destructive "development" that, in the real 20th century, gutted most of our cities) isn't explained in detail. And some readers might feel that Chesterton glorifies warfare (though I don't think that's his intention). But there is also a lot of carefully-crafted symbolism (as pointed out by Gardner) here; and the ending --which earned the book its fourth star from me-- is really powerful.
Some of the most important and obvious of these points are social in nature. Chesterton already lived in an age, like our own, in which the powers that be exalted the centralization of political and economic power and the homogenization of culture and society; their vision of Utopia was one in which all the world was subsumed into one huge mass society with all human differences and all local particularism erased, and all of it dominated and pervaded by an all-consuming ethos of materialism. (Of course, in our day, this process is a lot further advanced than it was in Chesterton's.) Chesterton recognized that goal as the nightmare that it in fact is, and set against it a vision of small-scale society and particularism, where considerations other than monetary profit would be determining factors in human behavior. His vision, in fact, is an early forerunner and adumbration of the one E. F. Schumacher outlines in Small Is Beautiful (to which Martin Gardner alludes in the helpful introduction to the Dover edition, which is the one that I read).
Another of his points is philosophical, dealing with the relation of humor to seriousness. At first blush, the humorous tone of much of the book seems out of place in a novel dealing with serious issues, and a plot that involves serious war, with real blood running in the streets. But Chesterton would say that, in a universe that involves so much apparent absurdity, both humor and fervent seriousness need to be part of the same mind, if that mind wants to stay sane.
There are problems with the execution of this novel. Some of its basic premises --a 1984 London technologically unchanged from 1904; the idea that a technocratic society would dispense kingship by lot, or limit itself to employing swords and halberds in warfare; and especially the possibility of Adam Wayne getting anybody, let alone a whole neighborhood, to follow him-- are wildly implausible. The scheme for the development of a new neighborhood-destroying roadway (foreshadowing the destructive "development" that, in the real 20th century, gutted most of our cities) isn't explained in detail. And some readers might feel that Chesterton glorifies warfare (though I don't think that's his intention). But there is also a lot of carefully-crafted symbolism (as pointed out by Gardner) here; and the ending --which earned the book its fourth star from me-- is really powerful.
October 6, 2024
The world is always the same, for it is always unexpected...There will never be anything quite like it to the crack of doom.
It was all a joke... It was done as a joke... It was all a mockery...
I beg your pardon, my dear Sir G. K. Chesterton, but you simply squeezed hard my brains, and my imagination is not just a little but fully clouded, which means that my impressions may mildly be described as mixed. I never stop to suggest timidly that you're brilliant, yet I feel immeasurably relieved by saying that I have not followed you in this uncommon book. Basically what I mean to say is that I am not able to catch a wild horse, and under the ordinary and exceptional circumstances described in this novel, you seem to be such. The situation invites paradox and seems mysterious. There was a lot of infantile chaos and babble on, I refer to the wars tales, yet I was delighted to go on with the read because the way you expressed some crazy, sarcastic ideas brought a stir to my blood and a flush to the cheek. I'll be damned but your book is madness.
It was all a joke... It was done as a joke... It was all a mockery...
I beg your pardon, my dear Sir G. K. Chesterton, but you simply squeezed hard my brains, and my imagination is not just a little but fully clouded, which means that my impressions may mildly be described as mixed. I never stop to suggest timidly that you're brilliant, yet I feel immeasurably relieved by saying that I have not followed you in this uncommon book. Basically what I mean to say is that I am not able to catch a wild horse, and under the ordinary and exceptional circumstances described in this novel, you seem to be such. The situation invites paradox and seems mysterious. There was a lot of infantile chaos and babble on, I refer to the wars tales, yet I was delighted to go on with the read because the way you expressed some crazy, sarcastic ideas brought a stir to my blood and a flush to the cheek. I'll be damned but your book is madness.
March 22, 2013
Let me start this review by stating how surprised I am to know that none of the people on my friends list here have read this book. I mean, this has to be one of the best debut novels ever written in the 20th century by a not-so-unknown English author & yet this book fails to make even the to-read list of so many people.
My acquaintance with Chesterton's works was made through the numerous stories featuring Father Brown I came across in detective story compilations. Though Father Brown isn't exactly Sherlock Holmes or Hercule Poirot, they still made for a decent & enjoyable read. That's what my perception of G.K. Chesterton honestly was until I chanced upon this book.
The story is incidentally set in 1984 & England has adopted despotism, having rid themselves of democracy as a way of government. Auberon Quin is a jokester whose weird sense of humour seems to irk his friends & by a twist of fate, he is crowned King. Quin takes everyone on a ride, making fun of himself as well as his 'subjects' as the absolute power in his country. Riot ensues when he draws up a Charter of Cities empowering each of his subjects to set up their own fiefs. A fanatical young man named Adam Wayne takes things too seriously & proclaims himself to be the Lord Provost of Notting Hill, thus jeopardising a civil project & risking a war. Will Quin entertain someone like Wayne? Who wins the war? And what will become of Notting Hill?
Chesterton's prose is beautiful & delightful to read - you often come across the kind you happen to read in books set in the backdrop of the Roman Empire. The book is obviously a work of satire & though there weren't any laugh-out-loud moments for me throughout, it's full of wry & subtle humour & I noticed that I had this grin on my face as long as I read this. The characters are well-written, esp. those of the protagonists Auberon Quin as the satirist & Adam Wayne as the fanatic.
The battle scenes are very vivid & though there is blood spilled, Chesterton ensures there isn't a gory element to that. The conversations & battle speeches more than often verge on the epic, despite the fact you know what you are reading is rather foolish & makes no sense.
What I loved about this book is how Chesterton leaves the issue of government open to interpretation. As in, would it be better if we continue with our dull, unexciting lives under the guise of democracy, or be in constant uncertainty every morning as to what new joke awaits in the course of the day? I found myself rooting for Wayne when he wages a war against fellow 'feudal lords' to maintain the independence of Notting Hill & later, I wondered if life under a fanatic like Wayne would indeed be any good.
The only reason I am not giving this full marks is because of my own inability to grasp every element of hidden allegory in this novel, but I think I'll come back to read this again once I've educated myself on the political situation of England of that time.
4 to 4.5 stars to this masterpiece of English classic literature. This is as good as a debut novel gets, so I'd say - don't miss it! Highly recommended for one & all.
My acquaintance with Chesterton's works was made through the numerous stories featuring Father Brown I came across in detective story compilations. Though Father Brown isn't exactly Sherlock Holmes or Hercule Poirot, they still made for a decent & enjoyable read. That's what my perception of G.K. Chesterton honestly was until I chanced upon this book.
The story is incidentally set in 1984 & England has adopted despotism, having rid themselves of democracy as a way of government. Auberon Quin is a jokester whose weird sense of humour seems to irk his friends & by a twist of fate, he is crowned King. Quin takes everyone on a ride, making fun of himself as well as his 'subjects' as the absolute power in his country. Riot ensues when he draws up a Charter of Cities empowering each of his subjects to set up their own fiefs. A fanatical young man named Adam Wayne takes things too seriously & proclaims himself to be the Lord Provost of Notting Hill, thus jeopardising a civil project & risking a war. Will Quin entertain someone like Wayne? Who wins the war? And what will become of Notting Hill?
Chesterton's prose is beautiful & delightful to read - you often come across the kind you happen to read in books set in the backdrop of the Roman Empire. The book is obviously a work of satire & though there weren't any laugh-out-loud moments for me throughout, it's full of wry & subtle humour & I noticed that I had this grin on my face as long as I read this. The characters are well-written, esp. those of the protagonists Auberon Quin as the satirist & Adam Wayne as the fanatic.
The battle scenes are very vivid & though there is blood spilled, Chesterton ensures there isn't a gory element to that. The conversations & battle speeches more than often verge on the epic, despite the fact you know what you are reading is rather foolish & makes no sense.
What I loved about this book is how Chesterton leaves the issue of government open to interpretation. As in, would it be better if we continue with our dull, unexciting lives under the guise of democracy, or be in constant uncertainty every morning as to what new joke awaits in the course of the day? I found myself rooting for Wayne when he wages a war against fellow 'feudal lords' to maintain the independence of Notting Hill & later, I wondered if life under a fanatic like Wayne would indeed be any good.
The only reason I am not giving this full marks is because of my own inability to grasp every element of hidden allegory in this novel, but I think I'll come back to read this again once I've educated myself on the political situation of England of that time.
4 to 4.5 stars to this masterpiece of English classic literature. This is as good as a debut novel gets, so I'd say - don't miss it! Highly recommended for one & all.
January 11, 2008
A very strange book. I can honestly say that I've never read anything quite like it before and probably never will. It's a rather surreal story that is equal parts philosophical allegory, fantasy, dystopian fiction and satire. It's all of these things and nothing. Totally original in its genius; totally maniacal in its unfolding. This book is not at all typical. There is no basis for comparison, and I'm still reeling from what I've just read.
The story takes place in 1984, but London's technological progress has been rather stunted, and for all intents and purposes its the year 1904. Not only that, but democracy has broken down and kings are chosen at random--from among the bureaucratic classes--to rule as autocrats.
A whimsical jokester named Auberon Quin finds himself crowned King, much to his ever-lasting delight and the indignation of his friends. A chance encounter with a young boy in Notting Hill inspires Quin to split the various London burroughs into distinct medieval-esque kingdoms, complete with the era's dress and pageantry. It is all a joke to Quin and he indulges his every whim by making outrageously comical demands on his provosts (think Monty Python).
One of the provosts, Adam Wayne of Notting Hill, takes King Auberon's edicts far too seriously, and in doing so, provokes all out war against the various other burroughs. And so a society suffering from the political and social exhaustions of democracy, including (of all things) relative peace, is thrust into a new age of patriotic bloodshed.
The description of the battles and the various players can be confusing at times, since its hard to imagine the geography upon which the battles are fought. But, this is a minor problem and doesn't effect the story as a whole.
By far one of the most original and entertaining pieces of literature I've ever read.
The story takes place in 1984, but London's technological progress has been rather stunted, and for all intents and purposes its the year 1904. Not only that, but democracy has broken down and kings are chosen at random--from among the bureaucratic classes--to rule as autocrats.
A whimsical jokester named Auberon Quin finds himself crowned King, much to his ever-lasting delight and the indignation of his friends. A chance encounter with a young boy in Notting Hill inspires Quin to split the various London burroughs into distinct medieval-esque kingdoms, complete with the era's dress and pageantry. It is all a joke to Quin and he indulges his every whim by making outrageously comical demands on his provosts (think Monty Python).
One of the provosts, Adam Wayne of Notting Hill, takes King Auberon's edicts far too seriously, and in doing so, provokes all out war against the various other burroughs. And so a society suffering from the political and social exhaustions of democracy, including (of all things) relative peace, is thrust into a new age of patriotic bloodshed.
The description of the battles and the various players can be confusing at times, since its hard to imagine the geography upon which the battles are fought. But, this is a minor problem and doesn't effect the story as a whole.
By far one of the most original and entertaining pieces of literature I've ever read.
March 9, 2024
Novela inclasificable. Una especie de distopía satirico-político-filosófica en clave de humor subrealista, con unos toques muy MontyPythonescos.
Me ha resultado demasiado británica, demasiado absurda y demasiado aburrida.
A pesar de parecer muy original, inteligente y divertida, no le he pillado el rollo, la verdad, y se me ha atravesado.
Me ha resultado demasiado británica, demasiado absurda y demasiado aburrida.
A pesar de parecer muy original, inteligente y divertida, no le he pillado el rollo, la verdad, y se me ha atravesado.
February 22, 2025
Oh my! Another romp with Chesterton. This time we are in London in 1984 (eighty years after the book was written in 1904). The world is relatively quiet, there are no wars and life goes on placidly and uneventfully. That is until one of three friends, Auberon Quin, is chosen to be king. Auberon is not the usually dull person that appears to inhabit most places, but a man enjoys the pleasures of childhood as well as a good joke. He decides to bring back Medieval heraldry and divides the city into boroughs, each with a Provost with traditional garb and customs.
Eveything seems to be going along tickety-boo until a road is proposed which will pass through Notting Hill and the provost there, Adam Wayne, simply refuses. Instead of taking the king's silly pagentry as something to accept to placate his monarch, he is serious about his task, takes up his sword and convinces the citizenry of Notting Hill to follow him. Heroism and patriotism mean something to him. And so begins the war .....
Chesterton examines many things such as the passiveness of people with regard to their government, and the dangers therein. At the beginning of the book, life is a fantasy of peace and goodwill, but the reality is perhaps not what we'd expect. Most of the population are uninspired, selfish, and uncommunicative, preferring to pursue their own interests and are intent on not upsetting the status quo. Life is boring. However once the war is started, we see the characters change. They come to life, begin to have their own opinions, initiate actions and have emotion about what is going on around them.
I believe Chesterton is saying that the things of life ..... disappointment, suffering, unexpected catastrophes and yes, even war, while they are unpleasant, are what give meaning to life. Without these things, the palette of life is reduced to a colourless humdrum existence.
I still don't get why the King of Nicaragua was a character at the beginning of the novel. He didn't return and wasn't reference after his appearance. I suspect the war in his homeland and the war on Notting Hill had some sort of parallel but it completely eluded me.
Again I will say that Chesterton is the most underrated author that I can think of. Even if you don't understand the underlying meaning of his books, boy, they are so much fun to read!
Eveything seems to be going along tickety-boo until a road is proposed which will pass through Notting Hill and the provost there, Adam Wayne, simply refuses. Instead of taking the king's silly pagentry as something to accept to placate his monarch, he is serious about his task, takes up his sword and convinces the citizenry of Notting Hill to follow him. Heroism and patriotism mean something to him. And so begins the war .....
Chesterton examines many things such as the passiveness of people with regard to their government, and the dangers therein. At the beginning of the book, life is a fantasy of peace and goodwill, but the reality is perhaps not what we'd expect. Most of the population are uninspired, selfish, and uncommunicative, preferring to pursue their own interests and are intent on not upsetting the status quo. Life is boring. However once the war is started, we see the characters change. They come to life, begin to have their own opinions, initiate actions and have emotion about what is going on around them.
I believe Chesterton is saying that the things of life ..... disappointment, suffering, unexpected catastrophes and yes, even war, while they are unpleasant, are what give meaning to life. Without these things, the palette of life is reduced to a colourless humdrum existence.
I still don't get why the King of Nicaragua was a character at the beginning of the novel. He didn't return and wasn't reference after his appearance. I suspect the war in his homeland and the war on Notting Hill had some sort of parallel but it completely eluded me.
Again I will say that Chesterton is the most underrated author that I can think of. Even if you don't understand the underlying meaning of his books, boy, they are so much fun to read!
July 12, 2022
The Napoleon of Notting Hill by G.K. Chesterton was his first 'novel', originally published in 1904. I have tried other of Chesterton's books; The Man Who Was Thursday and a couple of his Father Brown books. I really have a hard time wrapping my mind around his writing style.
Notting Hill was a 'satire' I guess. It's a look at a 'dystopian' future. England chooses its monarchs from the public and one Auberon Quin, who I think is a writer and critic, is chosen. Quin, as a joke, declares the districts of London as sort of individual medieval states. They each have their own colors, provosts, medieval guards, etc.
A war starts when some of the districts want to build a road through Notting Hill and the provost of Notting Hill, Adam Wayne stops them. So that's the basic story. Chesterton is a unique writer, with a unique style. It just doesn't work for me, I'm afraid. He does describe the battles very well; you can feel them. But other than that, the story really left me kind of cold. There are still a couple of Father Brown books out there but I have a feeling I won't be searching for them to strongly. Anyway, if you've never tried Chesterton, please check him out. Tell me what I'm missing. (2.0 stars)
Notting Hill was a 'satire' I guess. It's a look at a 'dystopian' future. England chooses its monarchs from the public and one Auberon Quin, who I think is a writer and critic, is chosen. Quin, as a joke, declares the districts of London as sort of individual medieval states. They each have their own colors, provosts, medieval guards, etc.
A war starts when some of the districts want to build a road through Notting Hill and the provost of Notting Hill, Adam Wayne stops them. So that's the basic story. Chesterton is a unique writer, with a unique style. It just doesn't work for me, I'm afraid. He does describe the battles very well; you can feel them. But other than that, the story really left me kind of cold. There are still a couple of Father Brown books out there but I have a feeling I won't be searching for them to strongly. Anyway, if you've never tried Chesterton, please check him out. Tell me what I'm missing. (2.0 stars)
November 13, 2019
This was G.K. Chesterton's first novel, written in 1904. The book is a comedic satire making fun of the need for power and war. While many of the place names are difficult for most non-Londoners to understand Chesterton's basic ideas are timeless-the futility of war and the difficulty of challenging a strong overpowering opponent.
Surprisingly, I kept on thinking of the current increasingly violent protests in Hong Kong against the must superior forces of the Chinese state. I'm afraid that the same fate might await those young people. That's why I think that Chesterton's novel is timeless.
Surprisingly, I kept on thinking of the current increasingly violent protests in Hong Kong against the must superior forces of the Chinese state. I'm afraid that the same fate might await those young people. That's why I think that Chesterton's novel is timeless.
May 2, 2022
My first Chesterton. Won't be my last. But boy, this is a strange book. His humor is weird and wonderful, and his prose is great. The premise is totally original. It's like he looked into my mind, jotted down all the ideas I'm wrestling with (patriotism, city v country, rationality v mysticism, what are we doing in this modern age, where do we go from here), and wrote a fairytale about them. Which is great. But also I don't really know what I think or feel about this book because I'm still wrestling with all the stuff. Which is also great. But instead of a thoughtful review, I'll cheat and list some quotes:
"If, as your rich friends say, there are no gods, and the skies are dark above us, what should a man fight for, but the place where he had the Eden of childhood and the short heaven of first love? If no temples and no scriptures are sacred, what is sacred if a man's own youth is not sacred?"
My gut instinct is YASSS—but wait, the skies aren't dark above us. How should I think about this when I do believe in temples and sacred Scriptures?
“When I was young I remember, in the old dreary days, wiseacres used to write books about how trains would get faster, and all the world be one empire, and tram cars go to the moon. But even as a child I used to say to myself, ‘Far more likely that we shall go on the Crusades again, or worship the gods of the city.’ And so it has been.”
Brave New World or 1984 or Fahrenheit 451 or ... The Napoleon of Notting Hill. It's an idea, and I'm drawn to it.
“Fools, you go about and see the kingdoms of the earth and are liberal and wise and Cosmopolitan, which is all that the devil can give you—all that he could offer to Christ, only to be spurned away. I am doing with the truly wise do. When a child goes out into the garden and stares up a tree, saying, ‘Let this tree be all I have,’ that moment its roots take hold on hell and its branches on the stars. The joy I have is what the lover knows when a woman is everything. It is what a savage knows when his idol is everything. It is what I know when Notting Hill is everything. I have a city. Let it stand or fall.”
"For we do not have an enduring city here; instead, we seek the one to come." And yet, there is some truth to this, there is something sacred about this statement:
"I was born, like other men, in a spot of the earth which I loved because I had played boys’ games there, and fallen in love, and talked with my friends through nights that were the nights of the gods. And I feel the riddle. These little gardens where we told our loves. These streets where we brought out our dead. Why should they be commonplace? Why should they be absurd? Why should it be grotesque to say that a pillar-box is poetic when through a year I could not see a red color box against the yellow evening in a certain street without being wracked with something of which God keeps the secret, but which is stronger than sorrow or joy? Why should anyone be able to raise a laugh by saying ‘the Cause of Notting Hill’?—Notting Hill where thousands of immortal spirits blaze with alternate hope and fear.”
Also, the idea of laughter and humor and its importance—some thing I need to ponder. I don't think I appreciate humor enough.
Oh, and this:
"He was a genuine natural mystic, one of those who live on the border of fairyland. But he was perhaps the first to realize how often the boundary of fairyland runs through a crowded city. Twenty feet from him (for he was very short-sighted) the red and white and yellow sons of the gaslights thronged and melted into each other like an orchard of fiery trees, the beginning of the woods of elf-land.
Yes!
"If, as your rich friends say, there are no gods, and the skies are dark above us, what should a man fight for, but the place where he had the Eden of childhood and the short heaven of first love? If no temples and no scriptures are sacred, what is sacred if a man's own youth is not sacred?"
My gut instinct is YASSS—but wait, the skies aren't dark above us. How should I think about this when I do believe in temples and sacred Scriptures?
“When I was young I remember, in the old dreary days, wiseacres used to write books about how trains would get faster, and all the world be one empire, and tram cars go to the moon. But even as a child I used to say to myself, ‘Far more likely that we shall go on the Crusades again, or worship the gods of the city.’ And so it has been.”
Brave New World or 1984 or Fahrenheit 451 or ... The Napoleon of Notting Hill. It's an idea, and I'm drawn to it.
“Fools, you go about and see the kingdoms of the earth and are liberal and wise and Cosmopolitan, which is all that the devil can give you—all that he could offer to Christ, only to be spurned away. I am doing with the truly wise do. When a child goes out into the garden and stares up a tree, saying, ‘Let this tree be all I have,’ that moment its roots take hold on hell and its branches on the stars. The joy I have is what the lover knows when a woman is everything. It is what a savage knows when his idol is everything. It is what I know when Notting Hill is everything. I have a city. Let it stand or fall.”
"For we do not have an enduring city here; instead, we seek the one to come." And yet, there is some truth to this, there is something sacred about this statement:
"I was born, like other men, in a spot of the earth which I loved because I had played boys’ games there, and fallen in love, and talked with my friends through nights that were the nights of the gods. And I feel the riddle. These little gardens where we told our loves. These streets where we brought out our dead. Why should they be commonplace? Why should they be absurd? Why should it be grotesque to say that a pillar-box is poetic when through a year I could not see a red color box against the yellow evening in a certain street without being wracked with something of which God keeps the secret, but which is stronger than sorrow or joy? Why should anyone be able to raise a laugh by saying ‘the Cause of Notting Hill’?—Notting Hill where thousands of immortal spirits blaze with alternate hope and fear.”
Also, the idea of laughter and humor and its importance—some thing I need to ponder. I don't think I appreciate humor enough.
Oh, and this:
"He was a genuine natural mystic, one of those who live on the border of fairyland. But he was perhaps the first to realize how often the boundary of fairyland runs through a crowded city. Twenty feet from him (for he was very short-sighted) the red and white and yellow sons of the gaslights thronged and melted into each other like an orchard of fiery trees, the beginning of the woods of elf-land.
Yes!
January 25, 2010
The first chapter of Notting Hill lays out the author’s theory about the “art of prophecy.” Prophets observe the fads and fallacies of their own eras and project their logical conclusions into the future. Thus, H.G. Wells envisions a secular, scientific utopia where religion and superstition are banished to histories. Or there’s Cecil Rhodes’ vision of a British empire, racially separate from its “dark children” but ruling benevolently over the world. In our own time, I think Chesterton might have singled out Ray Kurzweil and his Singularity or the cyberpunk genre, in general as examples of this phenomenon.
In Chapter 2, Chesterton (writing as someone looking back on the 20th century) explains what really happened. In two words, “Not much.” A century on from Wells’ and Rhodes’ era, England looks not much different than it did then, except moreso. Britain is one of several Great Powers (read Western Europe and America) that have subsumed all other polities, enforcing their “civilization” and mores worldwide, and bringing about a stultifying peace. The common man has lost faith in Revolution – that there can be something better than what IS. Change comes about through the slow, gradual, almost invisible process of Evolution. “Nature’s revolutions are the only successful ones. There has been no conservative reaction in favour of tails.” (p. 14)
From the same chapter:
Yet the seeds of chaos are present in this situation as that “universal secretary” has absolute authority, and it happens the office falls to a certain Auberon Quin, whose description I transcribed in an earlier Comment but is so wonderful that it bears repeating here: The little man, whose name was Auberon Quin, had an appearance compounded of a baby and an owl. His round head, round eyes, seemed to have been designed by nature playfully with a pair of compasses. His flat dark hair and preposterously long frock-coat gave him something of the look of a child's `Noah'. When he entered a room of strangers, they mistook him for a small boy, and wanted to take him on their knees, until he spoke, when they perceived that a boy would have been more intelligent. (pp. 18-19) Quin cheerfully takes up the scepter because, for him, it’s all an immense joke, and he happily putters about the Palace acting the eccentric. One of his more quixotic pronouncements is to issue the Charter of the Cities, which gives the boroughs of London effective independence. For 10 years, the city gets by with little substantive change in quotidian routine except that the new Provosts must dress up in ridiculous, Medieval costumes and be attended in all public spaces by halberdiers until the provostship of Notting Hill falls to Adam Wayne, a 19-year-old romantic with an exaggerated sense of patriotism regarding his neighborhood. When the other cities of Greater London plan to build a road that passes through Notting Hill, Wayne stirs up his subjects to resist, with force if (it turns out, when) necessary. A marvelous example of his rhetoric occurs on page 74, when Wayne accosts a grocer and calls forth his love of Notting Hill:
Chesterton decries the dulling down, the stripping of meaning that he sees overtaking society and asks, in Wayne’s voice:
Wayne (and Chesterton, I think) is clearly on the side of Revolution – believing in something greater than what is and a life meaning more than just existence. The result is war between the boroughs, a war that rapidly escalates from a street brawl to one with armies and sieges and all the death, tragedy and stupidity of such violence. But is also rekindles (by implication) creativity and charity and other positive virtues. As Wayne says to King Auberon in “The Last Battle” as they gaze out over the battlefield:
And a little later on, when Wayne pulls down an oak tree on himself and the enemies besetting him:
The final chapter, “Two Voices,” has proven to be the most difficult for me to get through. Not because of its length (5 pages in this edition) but because I want to reconcile Chesterton’s conclusion – “Whatever makes men feel old is mean…. Whatever makes men feel young is great” (p. 153) (which I accept to a degree) with my own misgivings about what the author is willing to accept in pursuit of that “youth.” Specifically, that there’s an equivalence between “a great war or a love story.” I would like to believe that we can be eternally childlike in our capacity to marvel at the world and strive for something better and greater, yet adult enough not to revel in the darker nature of that innocence, the “glory” and “virtue” of war and patriotism. In an age when the “Dark Side” has access to weapons like A-bombs, depleted uranium, weaponized anthrax and cluster bombs, not to mention your average machine gun, among other obscenities, I don’t think we can afford Chesterton’s blithe, joyful acceptance of violence as part and parcel of a healthy, vibrant society. (It is noteworthy that the most potent weapons used in the book’s war are swords and spears.)
In conclusion, this is a marvelous book even if you don’t want to try and wrap your brain around the moral quandaries Chesterton raises. It’s funny, crisply written and makes you think, and what more could you ask for in a book?
In Chapter 2, Chesterton (writing as someone looking back on the 20th century) explains what really happened. In two words, “Not much.” A century on from Wells’ and Rhodes’ era, England looks not much different than it did then, except moreso. Britain is one of several Great Powers (read Western Europe and America) that have subsumed all other polities, enforcing their “civilization” and mores worldwide, and bringing about a stultifying peace. The common man has lost faith in Revolution – that there can be something better than what IS. Change comes about through the slow, gradual, almost invisible process of Evolution. “Nature’s revolutions are the only successful ones. There has been no conservative reaction in favour of tails.” (p. 14)
From the same chapter:
“Democracy was dead, for no one minded the governing class governing. England was now practically a despotism, but not an hereditary one. Some one in the official class was made King. No one cared how; no one cared who. He was merely a universal secretary.
In this manner it happened that everything in London was very quiet. That vague and somewhat depressed reliance upon things happening as they have always happened, which is with all Londoners a mood, had become an assumed condition. There was really no reason for any man doing anything but the thing he had done the day before.” (pp. 14-15)
Yet the seeds of chaos are present in this situation as that “universal secretary” has absolute authority, and it happens the office falls to a certain Auberon Quin, whose description I transcribed in an earlier Comment but is so wonderful that it bears repeating here: The little man, whose name was Auberon Quin, had an appearance compounded of a baby and an owl. His round head, round eyes, seemed to have been designed by nature playfully with a pair of compasses. His flat dark hair and preposterously long frock-coat gave him something of the look of a child's `Noah'. When he entered a room of strangers, they mistook him for a small boy, and wanted to take him on their knees, until he spoke, when they perceived that a boy would have been more intelligent. (pp. 18-19) Quin cheerfully takes up the scepter because, for him, it’s all an immense joke, and he happily putters about the Palace acting the eccentric. One of his more quixotic pronouncements is to issue the Charter of the Cities, which gives the boroughs of London effective independence. For 10 years, the city gets by with little substantive change in quotidian routine except that the new Provosts must dress up in ridiculous, Medieval costumes and be attended in all public spaces by halberdiers until the provostship of Notting Hill falls to Adam Wayne, a 19-year-old romantic with an exaggerated sense of patriotism regarding his neighborhood. When the other cities of Greater London plan to build a road that passes through Notting Hill, Wayne stirs up his subjects to resist, with force if (it turns out, when) necessary. A marvelous example of his rhetoric occurs on page 74, when Wayne accosts a grocer and calls forth his love of Notting Hill:
“I know, I say, the temptations of so international, so universal a vision of wealth. I know that it must be your danger not to fall like many tradesmen into too dusty and mechanical a narrowness, but rather to be too broad, to be too general, too liberal. If a narrow nationalism be the danger of the pastry-cook, who makes his own wares under his own heavens, no less is cosmopolitanism the danger of the grocer. But I come to you in the name of the patriotism which no wanderings or enlightenments should ever wholly extinguish, and I ask you to remember Notting Hill. For, after all, in this cosmopolitan magnificence, she has played no small part. Your dates may come from the tall palms of Barbary, your sugar from the strange islands of the tropics, your tea from the secret villages of the Empire of the Dragon. That this room might be furnished, forests may have been spoiled under the Southern Cross, and leviathans speared under the Polar Star. But you yourself – surely no inconsiderable treasure – you yourself, the brain that wields these vast interests – you yourself, at least, have grown to strength and wisdom between these grey houses and under this rainy sky. This city which made you, and thus made your fortunes, is threatened with war. Come forth and tell to the ends of the earth this lesson. Oil is from the North and fruits from the South; rices are from India and spices from Ceylon; sheep are from New Zealand and men from Notting Hill.”
Chesterton decries the dulling down, the stripping of meaning that he sees overtaking society and asks, in Wayne’s voice:
“Is the normal human need, the normal human condition, higher or lower than those special states of the soul which call out a doubtful and dangerous glory? Those special powers of knowledge or sacrifice which are made possible only by the existence of evil? Which should come first to our affections, the enduring sanities of peace or the half-maniacal virtues of battle? Which should come first, the man great in the daily round or the man great in emergency? (p. 73)
Wayne (and Chesterton, I think) is clearly on the side of Revolution – believing in something greater than what is and a life meaning more than just existence. The result is war between the boroughs, a war that rapidly escalates from a street brawl to one with armies and sieges and all the death, tragedy and stupidity of such violence. But is also rekindles (by implication) creativity and charity and other positive virtues. As Wayne says to King Auberon in “The Last Battle” as they gaze out over the battlefield:
“It is the coming of a new age, your Majesty. Notting Hill is not a common empire; it is a thing like Athens, the mother of a mode of life, of a manner of living, which shall renew the youth of the world – a thing like Nazareth. When I was young I remember, in the old dreary days, wiseacres used to write books about how trains would get faster, and all the world would be one empire, and tram-cars go to the moon. And even as a child I used to say to myself, `Far more likely that we shall go on the crusades again, or worship the gods of the city.’ And so it has been. And I am glad, though this is my last battle.” (p. 148)
And a little later on, when Wayne pulls down an oak tree on himself and the enemies besetting him:
“I am doing now what I have done all my life, what is the only happiness, what is the only universality. I am clinging to something. Let it fall, and there let it lie. Fools, you go about and see the kingdoms of the earth, and are liberal, and wise, and cosmopolitan, which is all that the devil can give you – all that he could offer to Christ only to be spurned away. I am doing what the truly wise do. When a child goes out into the garden and takes hold of a tree, saying, `Let this tree be all I have’, that moment its roots take hold on hell and its branches on the stars. The joy I have is what the lover knows when a woman is everything. It is what I know when Notting Hill is everything. I have a city. Let it stand or fall.” (p. 152)
The final chapter, “Two Voices,” has proven to be the most difficult for me to get through. Not because of its length (5 pages in this edition) but because I want to reconcile Chesterton’s conclusion – “Whatever makes men feel old is mean…. Whatever makes men feel young is great” (p. 153) (which I accept to a degree) with my own misgivings about what the author is willing to accept in pursuit of that “youth.” Specifically, that there’s an equivalence between “a great war or a love story.” I would like to believe that we can be eternally childlike in our capacity to marvel at the world and strive for something better and greater, yet adult enough not to revel in the darker nature of that innocence, the “glory” and “virtue” of war and patriotism. In an age when the “Dark Side” has access to weapons like A-bombs, depleted uranium, weaponized anthrax and cluster bombs, not to mention your average machine gun, among other obscenities, I don’t think we can afford Chesterton’s blithe, joyful acceptance of violence as part and parcel of a healthy, vibrant society. (It is noteworthy that the most potent weapons used in the book’s war are swords and spears.)
In conclusion, this is a marvelous book even if you don’t want to try and wrap your brain around the moral quandaries Chesterton raises. It’s funny, crisply written and makes you think, and what more could you ask for in a book?
November 9, 2023
3.5 stars. To read Chesterton is to get a valuable glimpse into the good old days when one didn't need an editor in order to have a book published. I think it's clear that the man had ADHD and/or autism. This is everything you would come to expect from him: wacky, weird, and wonderful; a riot of intellectual zaniness. However, it's clearly just a lesser precursor of Thursday, and hangs together less convincingly as a novel than the latter. I wish I was wise enough to understand more than a quarter (if that) of what he's actually trying to say in his fictional works. In every story I read by him, I can tell there's a coherent set of ideas somewhere in there, but they're buried beneath so much abstruse randomness that it can be frustrating to try and decipher. If someone wrote a wide-reaching scholarly study of his influences and aims to try to dissect his mind a bit as has been popular in the C.S. Lewis cottage industry, that would be an extremely valuable asset for readers. It's perfectly valid to read Chesterton's fiction for pure entertainment value and turn to his nonfiction for an actual understanding of what he believed. This one works just as well, if not better, as a satirical farce than a novel of ideas, and I think the man himself would say it falls more in the former camp. It is, after all, about the philosophy of humor as a virtue. No one more than Chesterton better illuminates the precept that the wisest of humans also happen to be the funniest.
P.S. The first sentence is criminally underrated, and just may be one of the very best there's ever been: "The human race, to which so many of my readers belong, has been playing at children's games from the beginning, and will probably do it until the end, which is a nuisance for the few people who grow up."
P.S. The first sentence is criminally underrated, and just may be one of the very best there's ever been: "The human race, to which so many of my readers belong, has been playing at children's games from the beginning, and will probably do it until the end, which is a nuisance for the few people who grow up."
February 8, 2025
Chesterton verarbeitet hier in Roman-Form vieles, was er auch in Orthodoxie argumentiert und das allein macht Napoleon of Notting Hill lesenswert.
Ansonsten so lustig wie Chesterton immer ist. Die Figuren sind nicht so richtig nahbar, aber das war Chesterton wahrscheinlich auch nicht so wichtig
Ansonsten so lustig wie Chesterton immer ist. Die Figuren sind nicht so richtig nahbar, aber das war Chesterton wahrscheinlich auch nicht so wichtig
August 11, 2016
A rather clever book and from which I may not have gleaned all that I might.
Seemed to me to be written on two levels and therefore subject to two interpretations: sheer nonsense on one hand and political philosophy on the other.
It is set in London some time in the future when democracy has “advanced”. The monarch is no longer hereditary but selected at random. The choice falls on a minor government official who is so eccentric it is hard not to believe there isn't some blue blood coursing through his veins. Unable to take “Life” seriously this is reflected in the King's policies.
These policies see the London Boroughs becoming exalted, almost to the level of nation states. Most of the population see the King's ideas as harmless nonsense until there is war between Notting Hill and the other boroughs.
A strangely prophetic book written in 1904 – well prior to the outbreak of the Great War. We see the clear dangers of encouraging nationalism.
Chesterton seems to be thinking through his political and religious beliefs with the King & God at times synonymous.
Seemed to me to be written on two levels and therefore subject to two interpretations: sheer nonsense on one hand and political philosophy on the other.
It is set in London some time in the future when democracy has “advanced”. The monarch is no longer hereditary but selected at random. The choice falls on a minor government official who is so eccentric it is hard not to believe there isn't some blue blood coursing through his veins. Unable to take “Life” seriously this is reflected in the King's policies.
These policies see the London Boroughs becoming exalted, almost to the level of nation states. Most of the population see the King's ideas as harmless nonsense until there is war between Notting Hill and the other boroughs.
A strangely prophetic book written in 1904 – well prior to the outbreak of the Great War. We see the clear dangers of encouraging nationalism.
Chesterton seems to be thinking through his political and religious beliefs with the King & God at times synonymous.
October 17, 2025
Cel mai poetic "It's just a prank bro" posibil.
Este opusul lui 1984, unde tot sumbrul ia forma unei neseriozități, unde fratele cel mare, adică regele, face numai caterincă.
S-a frecat ceva povestea de antipatia mea față de conflict și de naționalism, a ieșit puțin fum, dar e interesant cat de umane le-a făcut să pară, oricât de mult amar in gura mi-ar lasă asta. Pentru mai multe detalii, și ca sa va formați o părere, citiți cartea.
Totuși, conflictul e mai degrabă alegoric.
"Yet nothing can alter the antagonism - the fact that I laughed at these things and you adored them"
O adaptare a cărții pe Cluj in locul Londrei ar fi o capodoperă
Este opusul lui 1984, unde tot sumbrul ia forma unei neseriozități, unde fratele cel mare, adică regele, face numai caterincă.
S-a frecat ceva povestea de antipatia mea față de conflict și de naționalism, a ieșit puțin fum, dar e interesant cat de umane le-a făcut să pară, oricât de mult amar in gura mi-ar lasă asta. Pentru mai multe detalii, și ca sa va formați o părere, citiți cartea.
Totuși, conflictul e mai degrabă alegoric.
"Yet nothing can alter the antagonism - the fact that I laughed at these things and you adored them"
O adaptare a cărții pe Cluj in locul Londrei ar fi o capodoperă
October 22, 2017
Wise and zany—it must be GKC.
Truly a parable for our time. A madcap king is taken seriously by lunatic functionary. Chaos ensues.
Truly a parable for our time. A madcap king is taken seriously by lunatic functionary. Chaos ensues.
July 25, 2025
"The human race, to which so many of my readers belong, has been playing at children's games from the beginning, and will probably do it till the end, which is a nuisance for the few people who grow up." p.3
I really enjoyed The Napoleon of Notting Hill by G.K. Chesterton. What begins as a whimsical satire on politics and local government soon deepens into a powerful reflection on the force of ideas and the human need for meaning.
Chesterton’s wit is razor-sharp, his prose delightful, and his insights surprisingly prescient. I’d highly recommend this book, not only for its humour and inventiveness, but for its underlying message: that people will believe in ideas—sometimes passionately, even dangerously—so we must be careful what ideals we set loose in the world.
"In healthy people there is no war between us. We are but the two lobes of the brain of a ploughman. Laughter and love are everywhere. The cathedrals, built in the ages that loved God, are full of blasphemous grotesques. The mother laughs continually at the child, the lover laughs continually at the lover, the wife at the husband, the friend at the friend. Auberon Quin, we have been too long separated: let us go out together." p.183
I really enjoyed The Napoleon of Notting Hill by G.K. Chesterton. What begins as a whimsical satire on politics and local government soon deepens into a powerful reflection on the force of ideas and the human need for meaning.
Chesterton’s wit is razor-sharp, his prose delightful, and his insights surprisingly prescient. I’d highly recommend this book, not only for its humour and inventiveness, but for its underlying message: that people will believe in ideas—sometimes passionately, even dangerously—so we must be careful what ideals we set loose in the world.
"In healthy people there is no war between us. We are but the two lobes of the brain of a ploughman. Laughter and love are everywhere. The cathedrals, built in the ages that loved God, are full of blasphemous grotesques. The mother laughs continually at the child, the lover laughs continually at the lover, the wife at the husband, the friend at the friend. Auberon Quin, we have been too long separated: let us go out together." p.183
April 5, 2024
Liked this old book, but didn’t love it. I really liked the dichotomy presented by the two main characters where one takes nothing seriously while the other takes everything seriously. I couldn’t stop thinking about Oscar Wilde’s quote, “life is too important to be taken seriously.” The presence of a few political opinions were interesting, but also disagreeable. I didn’t love the obvious classist, racist, religious and misogynistic rhetoric, nor did I love the excessive verbiage making the book into a slow slog. It could have been much more fun as a story. I’m glad I finished reading some Chesterton, because he was credited with being “the prince of paradox,” and I love the paradox of life itself!,
September 25, 2009
The great library downtown has been overrun with mold, and nearly all British and American literature is in quarantine ... this could be a very long, slow autumn. But fortunately, last week I found a few stacks that escaped the infection, and on them I came across Chesterton's delightful first novel, The Napoleon of Notting Hill (1904), a metropolitan fairy tale for grown-ups, set in Peter Pan's own neighborhood.
Unlike Barrie, Chesterton doesn't sprinkle us with fairy dust and whisk us off to Never Never Land; his playground is the London of his future, which "if it be not one of the masterpieces of man, is at least one of his sins." The question he poses is What would happen if the city were run by jesters and romantics, instead of politicians and businessmen. The answer is both very entertaining and alarming.
In the London of the future, the king is chosen at random, and it is the country's fortune to receive the practical jokester Auberon Quin as its new monarch. In a flight of whimsy, he reincorporates the city's boroughs as feudal towns and spurs them on to rivalry. But he fails to foresee the likes of Adam Wayne, provost of Notting Hill, who takes the king's joke very seriously, with heroic and bloody consequences.
If you like Wodehouse's Psmith or Saki's Reginald or Clovis, I suspect you'll enjoy much of this novel's humor. There are enough philosophical and religious musings to make the book an intriguing and at times perplexing tale. And William Graham Robertson's illustrations are excellent.
Unlike Barrie, Chesterton doesn't sprinkle us with fairy dust and whisk us off to Never Never Land; his playground is the London of his future, which "if it be not one of the masterpieces of man, is at least one of his sins." The question he poses is What would happen if the city were run by jesters and romantics, instead of politicians and businessmen. The answer is both very entertaining and alarming.
In the London of the future, the king is chosen at random, and it is the country's fortune to receive the practical jokester Auberon Quin as its new monarch. In a flight of whimsy, he reincorporates the city's boroughs as feudal towns and spurs them on to rivalry. But he fails to foresee the likes of Adam Wayne, provost of Notting Hill, who takes the king's joke very seriously, with heroic and bloody consequences.
If you like Wodehouse's Psmith or Saki's Reginald or Clovis, I suspect you'll enjoy much of this novel's humor. There are enough philosophical and religious musings to make the book an intriguing and at times perplexing tale. And William Graham Robertson's illustrations are excellent.
May 14, 2021
It’s with some consternation that I’m bailing out on this book. I consider myself a GKC fan, but I have generally appreciated his nonfiction works more than his fiction. “Orthodoxy” is one of my all-time favorites.
There were some interesting lines in the first couple of chapters, but the last 100 pages have been an uneventful slog. I’ve realized that I don’t even care what happens next, so I’m sending this one to the DNF shelf with an extra star just to ease my conscience.
There were some interesting lines in the first couple of chapters, but the last 100 pages have been an uneventful slog. I’ve realized that I don’t even care what happens next, so I’m sending this one to the DNF shelf with an extra star just to ease my conscience.
May 9, 2016
Chesterton is obviously very witty and clever and uses a lot of literary "tricks" like allegory, metaphors, forshadowing, dramatic irony, etc. But there are times when it seems like he's trying so hard to be clever that I feel like saying what Shakespeare said in "Hamlet" "Less Art; more matter".
In my humble opinion and for the penny it's worth.
Sincerely, Laura-Lee (Rahn)
In my humble opinion and for the penny it's worth.
Sincerely, Laura-Lee (Rahn)
May 10, 2016
I always enjoy Chesterton, although his fiction is usually too much of a jumble for me. At the same time, there are magnificent lines, pearls mixed in with the peas..
April 18, 2020
From TIA:
Written in 1904, Chesterton's vision of London 80 years on is still full of horse buses and hansom cabs. But democracy is dead, and the King is chosen by rote from among government officials. No one minds because none of it matters - until the choice falls on Auberon Quinn.....
https://archive.org/details/NapoleonO...
Written in 1904, Chesterton's vision of London 80 years on is still full of horse buses and hansom cabs. But democracy is dead, and the King is chosen by rote from among government officials. No one minds because none of it matters - until the choice falls on Auberon Quinn.....
https://archive.org/details/NapoleonO...
May 27, 2020
Té certa gràcia que la història passi al Londres de 1984, però no tinc cap voluntat de prospecció futurista. Ni tan sols és una distopia pròpiament dita, tot i ser un món on ha desaparegut tant la democràcia com la guerra.
Ara bé, la voluntat alegòrica continua intacta. És possible que la part de la guerra s’extengui massa (innecessàriament), però tot el que passa abans i després ho compensa amb escreix.
De Chesterton, però, em continuo quedant amb les històries del pare Brown.
Ara bé, la voluntat alegòrica continua intacta. És possible que la part de la guerra s’extengui massa (innecessàriament), però tot el que passa abans i després ho compensa amb escreix.
De Chesterton, però, em continuo quedant amb les històries del pare Brown.
December 31, 2017
Some fascinating quotes and an interesting writing style. While I loved the beginning and ending, I felt it just got to be a bit boring and outdated in the middle .
June 21, 2021
imma try to review this in a bit, we’ll see. short version tho: it was very weird and very awesome.
February 1, 2025
READ IT READ IT READ IT
September 16, 2018
This one is a mess.
Perhaps readers with a greater affection for Don Quixote will enjoy this novel more than I did. Here you get two Quixote-like figures reviving the pageant and attitudes of the middle ages in modern times: Auberon Quin in a more self-consciously ironic way, fully aware of the absurdity of his attitude, but capable, he believes, of laughing at the joke of his own anachronism; and Adam Wayne, the titular "Napoleon", who believes heart and soul in the chivalric ideals which Quin has jokingly introduced.
Chesterton's novel begins 80 years from the writer's present (the book was published in 1904, but the atmosphere is more reminiscent of the 1890s). The London of that distant future is absolutely identical in appearance and technology to that of Chesterton's day, with the exception that no automobiles are even referred to. The only significant change is one of governance: England is ruled by a king chosen at random from its citizens by some means never made entirely clear. When Auberon Quin is chosen King, he causes each separately named suburb of London to become an independent city-state, each ruled by a provost who when doing official business must wear, along with his retinue, Quin-designed costumes individualized by color and heraldry for each section.
This apparently makes for a kind of fancy-dress Victorian business-as-usual until Adam Wayne becomes provost of Notting Hill. He stands with a force of arms in the way of a road building project which would run through his fiefdom. The outcome of his resistance is the outbreak of a kind of mediaeval warfare in the gaslit streets of Victorian London, whose battles Chesterton took an obvious pleasure in devising and describing. They are the book's highlight, such as it is, though I might more honestly describe them as the least tedious sections of the novel. Chesterton’s unconcern for any sort of realism is demonstrated by the fact that the desperately fighting armies never use firearms or gunpowder in their lethal confrontations.
Though the novel is short - 163 pages in my edition, very few points are made, either philosophical or in terms of plot mechanics, without being repeated at least once. The lovely and evocative prose of which Chesterton is sometimes capable occurs only in passages, seldom if ever sustained for a full paragraph. In addition Chesterton’s fantasy also seems even more gynophobic than that of Tolkien: there is no female character and no mention of any female in the text: wife, sister, mother or aunt.
The first chapter is not bad as a kind of humorous essay in which Chesterton takes the predictions of a series of contemporary “prophets” (we would call them futurists) and then pairs them with an imaginary disciple who takes the prediction to an absurd extreme.
Perhaps readers with a greater affection for Don Quixote will enjoy this novel more than I did. Here you get two Quixote-like figures reviving the pageant and attitudes of the middle ages in modern times: Auberon Quin in a more self-consciously ironic way, fully aware of the absurdity of his attitude, but capable, he believes, of laughing at the joke of his own anachronism; and Adam Wayne, the titular "Napoleon", who believes heart and soul in the chivalric ideals which Quin has jokingly introduced.
Chesterton's novel begins 80 years from the writer's present (the book was published in 1904, but the atmosphere is more reminiscent of the 1890s). The London of that distant future is absolutely identical in appearance and technology to that of Chesterton's day, with the exception that no automobiles are even referred to. The only significant change is one of governance: England is ruled by a king chosen at random from its citizens by some means never made entirely clear. When Auberon Quin is chosen King, he causes each separately named suburb of London to become an independent city-state, each ruled by a provost who when doing official business must wear, along with his retinue, Quin-designed costumes individualized by color and heraldry for each section.
This apparently makes for a kind of fancy-dress Victorian business-as-usual until Adam Wayne becomes provost of Notting Hill. He stands with a force of arms in the way of a road building project which would run through his fiefdom. The outcome of his resistance is the outbreak of a kind of mediaeval warfare in the gaslit streets of Victorian London, whose battles Chesterton took an obvious pleasure in devising and describing. They are the book's highlight, such as it is, though I might more honestly describe them as the least tedious sections of the novel. Chesterton’s unconcern for any sort of realism is demonstrated by the fact that the desperately fighting armies never use firearms or gunpowder in their lethal confrontations.
Though the novel is short - 163 pages in my edition, very few points are made, either philosophical or in terms of plot mechanics, without being repeated at least once. The lovely and evocative prose of which Chesterton is sometimes capable occurs only in passages, seldom if ever sustained for a full paragraph. In addition Chesterton’s fantasy also seems even more gynophobic than that of Tolkien: there is no female character and no mention of any female in the text: wife, sister, mother or aunt.
The first chapter is not bad as a kind of humorous essay in which Chesterton takes the predictions of a series of contemporary “prophets” (we would call them futurists) and then pairs them with an imaginary disciple who takes the prediction to an absurd extreme.
There was Mr. Edward Carpenter, who thought we should in a very short time return to Nature, and live simply and slowly as the animals do. And Edward Carpenter was followed by James Pickie, D.D. (of Pocohontas College), who said that men were immensely improved by grazing, or taking their food slowly and continuously, after the manner of cows. And he said that he had, with the most encouraging results, turned city men out on all fours in a field covered with veal cutlets. Then Tolstoy and the Humanitarians said that the world was growing more merciful, and therefore no one would ever desire to kill. And Mr. Mick not only became a vegetarian, but at length declared vegetarianism doomed ("shedding," as he called it finely, "the green blood of the silent animals"), and predicted that men in a better age would live on nothing but salt. And then came the pamphlet from Oregon (where the thing was tried), the pamphlet called "Why should Salt suffer?" and there was more trouble.Chesterton seems to want to write both a comic novel and a novel of ideas, but his basic concept is too silly for the reader to take the ideas with sufficient seriousness. Because he is given some noble-sounding speeches with a certain amount of rhetorical eloquence, my guess is that we are supposed to have some sympathy, perhaps even admiration, for Adam Wayne. I always suspect Chesterton of propounding some version of Christian doctrine in his work, and it is possible that Wayne's embracing the absurd anachronisms of Quin to the point of spilling blood, his own potentially and inevitably that of others, is supposed to convey some version of Tertullian's "I believe because it is absurd".
January 2, 2018
With the world’s attention fixed — indeed, fixated — on the recent royal arrival it was perhaps timely that I read Chesterton’s first novel. Not mine, I hasten to add — the Father Brown stories were a staple of my boyhood — but his, written in 1904 and telling of a world 80 years hence.
It is thought that George Orwell based his 1984 on this speculative attempt by Chesterton to paint a future dystopia, but where Orwell was tyrannous and dark and depressing, as well as prescient, Chesterton was humorous and light and cheerful, without attempting to make any predictions whatsoever.
Instead he imagined a world technologically and socially the same as at the turn of the 20th century, with his only changed variable being the political system, which in England has morphed into a voteless and apathetic populace ruled by a monarch no longer selected by birth but by a sort of random lottery.
(It seems to me that, while Orwell drew a deliberate analogy with a totalitarian state such as Russia, Chesterton almost unwittingly created a form of governance not so very far removed from that of modern-day America.)
While the reader is to assume that the whole of England falls under this new regime, the action takes place exclusively in London. The new king is a humorist who forces the various London boroughs to secede into a kind of federal city, each to be headed by a semi-autonomous provost. The localism joke quickly veers into madness and violent war when the provost of Notting Hill — the eponymous ‘Napoleon’ — takes it rather more seriously than intended.
As the dust settles towards the end of the book both the satirist king and and the fanatic provost become unlikely allies — one suspects as disembodied spirits, since the narrative suggests quite strongly that both are killed in the war — surveying the wreckage of their experiment. They recognize that, while they may have disagreed over their approaches to glorifying London, they were both necessary for it to happen.
Chesterton spends much of his time — and a goodly proportion of the book consists of monologues — exploring this duality, the unlikely friendship of opposites to make the world work: fanaticism is tempered by satire; the bucolic idyll is all well and good, but the urban environment has its own poetry; a sense of community needs central authority to rein in conflict; and central authority in turn needs a strong sense of community to prevent abuse.
Which gives me some cause for reflection on the need for an English monarchy and the virtue of singling out one baby for a future reign. It’s anachronistic, but I suspect it's necessary. As Chesterton says, ‘The superstition of monarchy is bad, and the superstition of aristocracy is bad, but the superstition of democracy is the worst of all.’
It is thought that George Orwell based his 1984 on this speculative attempt by Chesterton to paint a future dystopia, but where Orwell was tyrannous and dark and depressing, as well as prescient, Chesterton was humorous and light and cheerful, without attempting to make any predictions whatsoever.
Instead he imagined a world technologically and socially the same as at the turn of the 20th century, with his only changed variable being the political system, which in England has morphed into a voteless and apathetic populace ruled by a monarch no longer selected by birth but by a sort of random lottery.
(It seems to me that, while Orwell drew a deliberate analogy with a totalitarian state such as Russia, Chesterton almost unwittingly created a form of governance not so very far removed from that of modern-day America.)
While the reader is to assume that the whole of England falls under this new regime, the action takes place exclusively in London. The new king is a humorist who forces the various London boroughs to secede into a kind of federal city, each to be headed by a semi-autonomous provost. The localism joke quickly veers into madness and violent war when the provost of Notting Hill — the eponymous ‘Napoleon’ — takes it rather more seriously than intended.
As the dust settles towards the end of the book both the satirist king and and the fanatic provost become unlikely allies — one suspects as disembodied spirits, since the narrative suggests quite strongly that both are killed in the war — surveying the wreckage of their experiment. They recognize that, while they may have disagreed over their approaches to glorifying London, they were both necessary for it to happen.
Chesterton spends much of his time — and a goodly proportion of the book consists of monologues — exploring this duality, the unlikely friendship of opposites to make the world work: fanaticism is tempered by satire; the bucolic idyll is all well and good, but the urban environment has its own poetry; a sense of community needs central authority to rein in conflict; and central authority in turn needs a strong sense of community to prevent abuse.
Which gives me some cause for reflection on the need for an English monarchy and the virtue of singling out one baby for a future reign. It’s anachronistic, but I suspect it's necessary. As Chesterton says, ‘The superstition of monarchy is bad, and the superstition of aristocracy is bad, but the superstition of democracy is the worst of all.’
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