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The Book of This and That
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118 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1915
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About the author
Robert Lynd
57 books18 followersRobert Wilson Lynd was an Irish writer, an urbane literary essayist and strong Irish nationalist.
He was born in Belfast and educated at Royal Belfast Academical Institution, studying at Queen's University. His background was Protestant, his father being a Presbyterian Church Moderator.
He began as a journalist on The Northern Whig in Belfast. He became a fluent Irish speaker, and Gaelic League member. As a Sinn Féin activist, he used the name Robiard Ó Flionn/Roibeard ua Flionn.
He wrote for The Republic in its early days. He spoke at the funeral in 1916 of Irish Republican and Marxist James Connolly, whose works Labour in Ireland, Labour in Irish History and The Re-Conquest of Ireland he subsequently edited. He was also a loyal friend of Roger Casement.
He moved to London in 1901, via Manchester, sharing accommodation with his friend the artist Paul Henry. Firstly he wrote drama criticism, for "Today", edited by Jerome K. Jerome. He also wrote for the "Daily News" (later the News Chronicle), being its literary editor 1912 to 1947.
Lynd married the writer Sylvia Dryhurst, whom he met at Gaelic League meetings in London, in 1909. Their daughters Máire and Sigle became close friends of Isaiah Berlin. Sigle's son, born in 1941, is the artist Tim Wheeler.
The Lynds settled in Hampstead, in Keats Grove near the John Keats house, where they were well known as literary hosts, in the group including J.B. Priestley. They were on good terms also with Hugh Walpole; Priestley, Walpole and Sylvia Lynd were founding committee members of the Book Society. Irish guests included James Joyce and James Stephens. On one occasion reported by Victor Gollancz, Joyce intoned Anna Livia Plurabelle to his own piano accompaniment.
Lynd used the pseudonym Y.Y. ("Ys," or "wise, you see") in writing for the New Statesman. According to C. H. Rolph's Kingsley (1973), Lynd's weekly essay, which ran from 1913 to 1945, was 'irreplaceable.' In 1941, editor Kingsley Martin decided to alternate it with pieces by James Bridie on Ireland, but the experiment was not at all a success. Lynd died in 1949 and is buried in Belfast City Cemetery.
He was born in Belfast and educated at Royal Belfast Academical Institution, studying at Queen's University. His background was Protestant, his father being a Presbyterian Church Moderator.
He began as a journalist on The Northern Whig in Belfast. He became a fluent Irish speaker, and Gaelic League member. As a Sinn Féin activist, he used the name Robiard Ó Flionn/Roibeard ua Flionn.
He wrote for The Republic in its early days. He spoke at the funeral in 1916 of Irish Republican and Marxist James Connolly, whose works Labour in Ireland, Labour in Irish History and The Re-Conquest of Ireland he subsequently edited. He was also a loyal friend of Roger Casement.
He moved to London in 1901, via Manchester, sharing accommodation with his friend the artist Paul Henry. Firstly he wrote drama criticism, for "Today", edited by Jerome K. Jerome. He also wrote for the "Daily News" (later the News Chronicle), being its literary editor 1912 to 1947.
Lynd married the writer Sylvia Dryhurst, whom he met at Gaelic League meetings in London, in 1909. Their daughters Máire and Sigle became close friends of Isaiah Berlin. Sigle's son, born in 1941, is the artist Tim Wheeler.
The Lynds settled in Hampstead, in Keats Grove near the John Keats house, where they were well known as literary hosts, in the group including J.B. Priestley. They were on good terms also with Hugh Walpole; Priestley, Walpole and Sylvia Lynd were founding committee members of the Book Society. Irish guests included James Joyce and James Stephens. On one occasion reported by Victor Gollancz, Joyce intoned Anna Livia Plurabelle to his own piano accompaniment.
Lynd used the pseudonym Y.Y. ("Ys," or "wise, you see") in writing for the New Statesman. According to C. H. Rolph's Kingsley (1973), Lynd's weekly essay, which ran from 1913 to 1945, was 'irreplaceable.' In 1941, editor Kingsley Martin decided to alternate it with pieces by James Bridie on Ireland, but the experiment was not at all a success. Lynd died in 1949 and is buried in Belfast City Cemetery.
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
March 21, 2020
This ongoing effort to read more essays is revealing some patterns I maybe ought to have recognized years ago, but then again perhaps drawing one's eye to the obvious the whole point of essays?
Overall, this is a pretty good collection. A handful were particularly relevant even all these decades later. I thought of the Global Village (emphasis on village) several times.
"On Demagogues" the inevitability of such in democracy
"On Indignation" how nice it would be if people got as upset at people they usually agree with as they do with their usual opponents.
"On Being Shocked" may have caused me to laugh out loud.
"The Rights of Murder" is perhaps the most surprising in its consideration of what civilization really means
I'm unlikely to revisit this collection, thus the rating -- but some of Lynd's musings will sit with me & I expect I'll read more of his work.
Overall, this is a pretty good collection. A handful were particularly relevant even all these decades later. I thought of the Global Village (emphasis on village) several times.
"On Demagogues" the inevitability of such in democracy
"On Indignation" how nice it would be if people got as upset at people they usually agree with as they do with their usual opponents.
"On Being Shocked" may have caused me to laugh out loud.
"The Rights of Murder" is perhaps the most surprising in its consideration of what civilization really means
I'm unlikely to revisit this collection, thus the rating -- but some of Lynd's musings will sit with me & I expect I'll read more of his work.
March 13, 2025
This book seemed like just a journal about a hater ass dude. Sometimes his takes are a little slay and he’s looking out for the girlies, but it gives incelly vibes like he just hates things that he was left out of.
Hilariously written though
Hilariously written though
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews