The Autobiography of a Super-Tramp

by W.H. Davies, Peter Joyce (Narrator)

At the end of the 19th century, W.H. Davies hustled his way across America, working when he could, begging & stealing when he couldn't. He saw life on the breadline. He was beaten up in New Orleans, thrown into prison in Michigan & was present at lynchings in Tennessee. He was truly a diarist of the nether side of the American dream.

Genres: Biography, Nonfiction, Travel, Autobiography, Memoir, Biography Memoir, Adventure

8 pages, Audio CD

First published January 1, 1908

About the author

William Henry Davies was born in Newport, Monmouthshire, Wales. His father was, at the time a Publican. After an apprenticeship as a picture-frame maker and a series of labouring jobs, he travelled to America, first to New York and then to the Klondike.

He returned to England after an accident whilst jumping a train in Canada, he lost a foot. Upon his return to Britain he led a poor, hard life living in London lodging houses and as a pedlar in the country. He married in 1923, Emma, who was much younger than he. His first poems were published when he was 34.

Most of his poetry is on the subject of nature or life on the road and exhibits a natural simple, earthy style. He also wrote two novels and autobiographical works, his best known being Autobiography of a Super-Tramp

He died in 1940.

Reviews

[Chrissie · Rating 4 out of 5]

W.H. Davies (1871-1940) writes of the five years, 1893-1899, he spent as a vagabond tramping across the US, Canada and England. He travelled by train, riverboat and foot, never buying a ticket. He was restless in his soul. He lived by begging, by hawking, as a migrant worker harvesting crops, by tending cattle on cattle-boats crossing the ocean back and forth between Baltimore and Liverpool. He was Welsh and had family living in Wales, whom he would occasionally visit. He enjoyed reading, he wanted to write, particularly poetry. To write, one needs first money for food and the simplest of lodgings. There were prisons in the States that provided not only tobacco and food but also warm winter lodgings! He would at times splurge on liquor, for the companionship of drinking with a friend. It was a hard life but also a free life. Then one day, hopping on a train, he fell and his foot was severed. In fact, not even this ended his wanderings.

Why four stars? Maybe it’s hard to imagine that such a person has the ability to express himself well in words. There is no explaining this—he just simply had the knack. His experiences are expressed with a liveliness and an honesty that attracts. The prose is excellent! People and dialogs, places and events—all are well described. I would not want to have lived his life, but I do enjoy putting myself in his shoes, experiencing his joys, trials and tribulations. He’s honest, but he doesn’t gripe.

Peter Joyce narrates the audiobook. He uses many different accents, fitting the accent to the person speaking. We are served up Australian, Welsh, Scottish, American and Southern accents. This sounds good, right? Well, I did not like it. The accents make it harder to fix one’s attention on the author’s words. I find the accents distracting, downright annoying. I also wish he had read slower. The prose is Edwardian, not contemporary. Words that are not used today pepper the text. At times, I chose to turn off the recording to stop and think, to consider how the lines were meant to be interpreted. No, I do not like the narration, so I am giving it one star. I am guessing others will like it, but not me.

On completing this book, you have both a clear picture of W.H. Davies vagabond experiences and his overall view of life and people.

******************

*A Tramp Across the Continent by Charles F. Lummis 4 stars
*The Autobiography of a Super-Tramp by W.H. Davies 4 stars
*American Character: The Curious Life of Charles Fletcher Lummis by Mark Thompson TBR

[Robert Humphries · Rating 3 out of 5]

As a son of Newport myself, I am somewhat partial to Davies, and I was entertained and informed about social conditions in late 19th century America by his firsthand account of tramping around the country. Nevertheless, Davies's Edwardian prose and occasional humor make his experiences seem easier and more carefree than they clearly were. Worse, the book is marred by moments of appalling racism which seem out of character with the gentle tone of the rest of the work. Davies was undoubtedly a man who marched to a different drummer, and as such his life and work are intriguing, but "Super-tramp" indulges prejudice in a manner that makes for an uneven and uncomfortable read.

[James Marinero · Rating 5 out of 5]

A book which I have read several times over the last 30 years - recommended by a much respected English teacher in my high school. Maybe one of the best 'road' stories, literally. In music we hear about some of this background in Woody Guthrie's songs, but this is raw and real. I'll put it back again on my 'to read' shelf. As I am Welsh, it really resonates.

[Feliks · Rating 4 out of 5]

Unusual reading material, some might say...but I thoroughly enjoyed this odd and epigrammatical title by an obscure Welsh hobo who traveled and wrote around the year 1900. As a sign that it is 'raw' and 'unvarnished' and may 'crimp our modern ears' there is not just one but three separate introductions built-in to-the-reading experience in order to 'prepare' we contemporary readers for WH Davies' 'rustic' and 'salty' ruminations. There's an original introduction by none other than grand-old-man-of-British-stage, playwright George Bernard Shaw, (who was frank in his admiration of the "coarse" prose) preserved intact but then--adding gross insult--two cringing current-day 'apologies' hastily enlisted by the today's fastidious publisher of the work. To spare our tender sensibilities, I'm sure. Well. To my way of thinking there's no need to 'apologize' for this extremely fun, muscular autobiography. The author has that wonderfully direct, economical style of a Hemingway (long before Hemingway was even Hemingway). Its a laconic; unadulterated, simple text; free from ornament; open and honest; rich in real-life experience of men and the world; and thus it is wonderful to re-digest at this late date in this artificial and phony timeperiod of our own. Granted, there are occasional bits of overly-emotional Welsh feeling but its directed only at birds, and sunsets and rain showers. When it comes to thieves, and cooking-fires, frayed overcoats, worn-out shoes, and violent deaths at sea...there's plain and blunt recitation from Davies; at all times adroitly penned, but which at times--even in minor details--can be thrilling. Tramping through snow, sleeping out-of-doors, begging, spending nights in jail, working on farms; observing the attitudes of tradespeople and landlords and bums eating in hash-houses and chop-suey joints and chip shops. This is just the background. Let him tell you how to herd cattle onto ships for Atlantic crossings and let him tell you how to handle a razor fight, let him tell you how to climb aboard a moving train and let him tell you about lynch mobs and corrupt sheriffs and con men. It's a great book and I'm proud to have read it. When will today's whingeing cowards cease demanding that humans of 100 years ago, think, write, & speak exactly as we do today? Let things be as they are, not as you're worried they ought to be. This superb book ought never be whitewashed or censored or sanitized. Shut up!

[Anthony Peter · Rating 4 out of 5]

What I most enjoyed about this autobiography was its measured style suggestive of a mind concerned to weigh up experience carefully and justly. Davies writes in his last two paragraphs: "Perhaps I am deceived as to the worth or worthlessness of certain people, but I have given my experience of them without exaggeration, describing as near as memory makes it possible, things exactly as they occurred. I have made no effort to conceal my gratitude for those who have befriended me, and I have made every effort to conceal bitterness against enemies. If I have not succeeded in the latter it is with regret, but if I have failed in the former, for that I am more truly and deeply sorry... if I have not omitted to mention trouble of my own making, for which no one but myself was to blame, why should I omit the mention of others, whom I blame for hours more bitter?"

Above all, I felt Davies gave the impression of himself as a man aware of how best to get on with people and how to bear your own self-imposed hardships on occasions when the liberty of the road becomes hard. Much of the narrative is understated, in particular the moment when the accident on the railway leads to his leg being amputated. For me, this absence of histrionics renders the narrative more convincing. Davies is at his most animated when recording the workings of the Charity Organisation which had to decide whether he was a worthy cause for them to recommend to their list of 'subscribers' - he has not a single good word to say for them, but his assessment of them is so evenly delivered that we end up unable to deny his opinion.

A remarkable man, I think, and though it is easy to judge his life as an idler and one whose company was among beggars more practised than himself, his inclination to do a good day's work rather than be entirely dependent on the conned charity of others, usually vicariously enjoyed, left me feeling that he was for the most part not a wilful burden on society. And his impulse towards books and writing when a poor man is remarkable. However, we should not forget the foresight and sensible generosity of his grandmother's legacy of a weekly allowance, for it was that which perhaps enabled him to retain his status as a gentleman, rather than a ne'erdowell, of the road.

There is one serious blemish in the text. Balanced as much of his writing is, there is no denying that, in this book at least, Davies was a racist, judging by his account of a lynching. When I taught 'To Kill a Mockingbird', pupils always found the use of the 'n' word shocking. Davies' coolness about Southern racist attitudes is equally shocking and disturbing.

[Jim Townsend · Rating 5 out of 5]

I enjoyed this book from whose title the rock band Supertramp took its name. Davies (1871-1940) relates his life and experiences up to 1906, when he was age 35. It seemed to me, like all good writing, to have a "you are there" quality to it, as well as being unadorned. Highly recommended.

[Catherine · Rating 2 out of 5]

2.5 stars

The book is quite gentle in style and doesn't really dwell on the deprivations that people in Davies' position must have found themselves. It was an interesting read but I'm afraid I didn't find it a patch on Orwell's 'Down and and Out in Paris and London'. However what really left a nasty taste in the mouth was the racism encountered in the chapter 'A Lynching' Firstly the incident in itself was execrable, but Davies makes some sickening comments of his own. After this I just could not enjoy the rest of the book.

[Laraine Anne Anne · Rating 5 out of 5]

My husband often mentioned how much he enjoyed reading this book when he was a kid. So when he bought an old copy (from the thirties, I think) I decided to read it too. I struggled a little with the first chapter, but after that found myself thoroughly engrossed, though I couldn't help being reminded of the movie Emperor of the North. I was also glad I didn't read the preface by George Bernard Shaw until after reading the book because it would have ruined one of the major scenes. (And now I need to be careful so as not to produce a "spoiler" for people who still haven't read the book.) In his preface Bernard Shaw comments on how he'd have started this part of the book telling readers they were about to read something that changed the whole course of the writer's life, but that Davies, instead, wrote the episode so matter-of-factly it was all the more chilling. Bernard Shaw was right. Davies was a self-taught writer (and poet, famous mostly for his little ode "What is this life if, full of care"). In his days writers didn't take courses on how to plot a book, how to develop characters, etc.—all those things that seem designed specifically to encourage self-doubt and writer's block. His work is possibly all the better for it. I can no longer remember the date I read this book; Ive just taken a stab at it.

[David Gross · Rating 2 out of 5]

An early entry in the line of ne'er-d'ye-well starving artist autobiographies that continues with books like You Can't Win (Jack Black) and Junky (William S. Burroughs).

This book is less interesting than those. It tells of an interesting life and interesting events and people, but not particularly evocatively. And it's salted with some wholly uninteresting anecdotes (like the landlord squabble he finishes the book with) and unintentional shaggy dog stories.

Not a complete waste of time, but nothing to go out of your way for.

[Stephen · Rating 5 out of 5]

an interesting book of a flawed genius william davies born in newport wales and his tramping around the USA, canada and then his tragic accident which brings him back to England and trampling the highways of the counties with his wooden leg and his dream to have a book/poems published.. maybe classed as one of the first ever classic on the road books based around the author's travels late 19th-early 20th century and even the book gave its name to a famous music band as well Supertramp

[Domhnall · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is an autobiographical account of the life of W.H. Davies as a young man at the very end of the nineteenth century, and explains that he was motivated to travel because of the restricted opportunities open to him in his native Welsh town. He had done well at school, left early (as was normal) to undertake and complete an apprenticeship, and had the benefit of a small regular income through the will of his grandmother. However, he notes that, visiting his home after some years absence, he found his associates living unsatisfying lives in relative poverty and he was never going to settle for this parochial life. His ambition was to write and he had a thirst for adventure, so he spent his limited resources on his fare to the USA and arrived nearly penniless to seek his fortune.

While Davies expected to (and often did) earn his living by hard work, the opportunities open to a young migrant were typically casual, totally insecure and often seasonal. He needed to travel in order to find work and to find ways to survive the uncertain periods between jobs, so was fortunate to have formed a friendship with an established tramp, who taught him the skills required to move around the United States without having much money. His book describes his travels and experiences over a five year period and from this he constructs a picture of the conditions under which countless Americans lived and worked.

There was always the presence of a settled community, for whom conditions were secure and more than comfortable, and among whom there was a vast resource of generosity towards the less fortunate; their kindness and charity enabled a whole population of migrants to survive, including diverse misfits, beggars, thieves and miscreants, but equally a swirling tide of casual workers travelling in search of work. His analysis of the economic conditions creating this class of migrants is neither systematic nor profound, and there is little reason why it would be, but he nevertheless offers a lot of guidance by virtue of his simple, factual account of the things he saw for himself.

Whatever the circumstances that caused Davies to become a witness to this process, what he actually encountered is the systematic way by which capitalist systems of production both created and required a population of casual labour, who would unavoidably live as migrants on the margins of society. Much of the work he describes is inherently seasonal in nature, or tied to finite projects – large scale, such as canal building, or small scale, such as transporting live cattle by ship across the Atlantic. The work can be extremely demanding, and since there is no concept of a reasonable working week, or proper breaks and holidays, nor even approximately decent living and social conditions for a private life, then it was simply unavoidable that workers were either simply laid off when their jobs were completed or would ask to be paid off when they had earned enough to get by or had reached their physical limit, taking time out of work to recuperate and seek out some kind of social life, predictably in chaotic and unsatisfactory forms. There was no concept of security of employment or payment for time away from work, nor compensation for accident or ill health. Some employers failed to pay the wages due, some withheld wages as payment for lodging and supplies, and in any event, a worker with wages in his pocket was immediately vulnerable to countless forms of theft and exploitation. All were quickly driven back into poverty and hence back into work, with the more fortunate worker obliged to help out his associates with loans or gifts, in an informal system of mutual assistance which really was in their mutual interest.

In the American South, Davies describes even harsher practices in place which rendered the condition of Black workers arguably indistinguishable from slavery. This included the practice of subjecting prisoners to forced labour [which is explicitly provided for in the constitution to this day and in the 21st Century USA has enabled their prison industries to become one of the world’s largest employers]. Davies describes Southern racism in the terms which he encountered at the time, and it is sufficient to take it for what it is - a contemporary account by an outsider reporting what he saw.

The population of migrants was sometimes regarded with fear and aggression by the settled communities through which they passed, and at times subject to violence. On American trains they risked death and injury not only through accident but at the hands of the train guards. In general, however, they were recognised as harmless and tolerated. Davies himself is quite clear and forceful in his distaste for thieves and miscreants but for the most part he shows a warmth and empathy for the men with whom he shared so many experiences and he demonstrates that the lives they led were a rational and usually necessary choice for them to survive given the options open to them, that they engaged with their lives energetically and creatively and he takes delight in the complex social arrangements by which they lived and associated with each other, as well as their ingenuity in securing the essentials for life.

Periodically, Davies describes himself taking time out for reading and study, and on his return to England he is increasingly committed to writing and searching for a publisher. The skills he acquired on the road in America served him well on the roads of England, and he yet again describes with compassion the lives of the single men he encountered, living on the margins of their social and economic environments, though his encounters with charitable agencies are dispiriting, exposing the full hypocrisy and dishonesty of attitudes towards the poor in a capitalist society. Judgemental readers who protest that these men should never beg or steal to live need to confirm their support for the types of fair employment practices and universal welfare provision necessary to make that humanly possible. As it happens, though, the poor men he described in the so called “doss-houses”, so disapproved of by middle class society and their charitable institutions, were mostly working men with poverty level incomes.

He recognised that his chances of success as a writer would not depend on his abilities or hard work but on the kindness of some wealthy benefactor, and remarkably the book does close with just such an act of kindness. Or to be accurate, it opens with a preface to the original edition written by George Bernard Shaw which is not only perceptive and insightful but also – at the time it was written – it was a huge act of kindness from a distinguished writer to one who was unknown and impoverished. When I appreciated that it was this generous act of sponsorship that enabled Davies to succeed as a writer, I found it all the more moving to read.

[Iona Stewart · Rating 4 out of 5]

The book has a preface by George Bernard Shaw, who was impressed by W.H. Davies’ poems – for he is a poet - and also appreciated the book.

It was first published in 1908, and the bulk of its content is devoted to accounts of the author’s “tramping” around both Britain and the U.S.

Sometimes he worked for short periods, for example, at roping cattle in ships, but mostly his only income was the small amounts he received by begging. He was not good at asking for money for nothing, so he fared best when together with other tramps who excelled at this.

It is a hard life that is portrayed, with severe cold in the winter and lack of food, though most householders he begs from are generous givers.

There were special hostels for tramps where they also were fed.

In Michigan, tramps could enter jails without committing an offence “and take ten, fifteen, twenty or thirty days, all at your own sweet discretion”. There was no work to do, good food and daily supplies of tobacco. This was one way of surviving the harsh winters.

The marshal got a dollar each for every arrest, the judge received three or four dollars for every conviction, and the sheriff of the jail got a dollar a day for boarding each prisoner under his charge. Davies got to know many of the other tramps, who were all generous to each other when the one had food and others not.

Davies tells everything like it is and writes exquisitely.

He talks continually of “beating his way” to this or that place. This is the first time I have heard of this phrase, and am not sure of its exact meaning.

In the U.S he travels free on freight trains, jumping onto them, but on one occasion an accident happens, resulting in the loss of a leg.

He eventually has time to devote to his writing, and at long last achieves some success.

Five of Davies’ poems are included at the end of the book.

This is not the most exciting of books, which is why I give it four and not five stars.

But it gives an excellent detailed description of Davies’ tramping life with all its hardships as well as positive factors.

[Robin Helweg-Larsen · Rating 5 out of 5]

W.H. Davies was a poet whose best-known piece begins

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

Born in Newport, Wales, in 1871, he was raised by his grandparents. As a boy he fought a lot, and at 13 was the leader of gang, was arrested for stealing handbags, and got twelve strokes of the birch. He read enthusiastically, disliked being apprenticed to a maker of picture frames, and at 21 took passage to America. His years of wandering provide a fascinating view of the US over 100 years ago, with chapters on jails, thieves, cattlemen, race issues in the Mississippi area, and so on. He worked his way back and forth over the Atlantic, lost a leg hopping a train in Canada and thereafter limited himself to England where he began writing his poetry and memoirs in doss houses in between bouts of tramping and begging. Eventually he was noticed, published for his poetry first and then for his autobiography--with a preface by George Bernard Shaw--and became famous.

His autobiography is frank, amusing, informative, insightful and naive all at the same time. A unique book, and a good accompaniment to his poetry which is also insightful and naive and oriented to observing life outside, whether in city or countryside. This is from "The Sleepers":

As I walked down the waterside
This silent morning, wet and dark;
Before the cocks in farmyards crowed,
Before the dogs began to bark;
Before the hour of five was struck
By old Westminster's mighty clock:

As I walked down the waterside
This morning, in the cold damp air,
I saw a hundred women and men
Huddled in rags and sleeping there:
These people have no work, thought I,
And long before their time they die.

[Sean · Rating 3 out of 5]

The book is good if you want to learn about the life of a
"tramp" or "hobo" during the late 19th century in Britain and North America. The people in this book are the what most people picture when they hear "hobo." They were the people with little tied-up bundles who would jump on trains and ride the rails. The story of this guy's life is moderately interesting. It's not action-packed, but it probably won't put you to sleep either. For me, there is no great wisdom or really even life lessons to be taken from this book. I would only recommend it to somebody who had a historical interest in what life was like for a hobo at that time.

[Joe B · Rating 5 out of 5]

A lovely book. I think somewhere in it he and another gentleman of the road walked from one town to another by country(ish) roads and all the while Davies recited poetry. (Maybe it was in the time when they wandered from spike to spike getting digs there, so they couldn't outstay their welcome?). Know the footsore feeling well. May the road rise up to meet you!

[Ramesh Naidu · Rating 4 out of 5]

Leisure by W H Davies had always held a hold on me since my childhood, so I had to read this book. It was delightful to read that the man had lived his life by the same principles that one would expect him to espouse, after reading "Leisure"

[Spurnlad · Rating 5 out of 5]

Great insight into conditions as a tramp in late 19th C

[Harriet Waring · Rating 4 out of 5]

Loved the fact I was reading a book 5th edition printed in the 1920s. Fascinating story about a man who is a beggar walking across America and the UK trying to get some money for his sleep in a bed. Got a bit repetitive towards the end but was an interesting read overall.

[Malum · Rating 4 out of 5]

A great travelogue and a fascinating historical document. Just be aware going in that Davies was astoundingly racist and he isn't afraid to show it.

[Misfits farm · Rating 4 out of 5]

Set at the turn of the 20th century, this is one of those classic novels to enjoy. The story of a man who travels and lives day to day riding trains, living in prisons for free and being astute enough to fund himself even overseas and back again with a little help from his friends. Knowledge gets passed on and so lives the wandering tramps. You can’t help smile at some of the antics they get up to- boarding trains and escaping inspectors. This book was recommended to me and I am so glad that i discovered it as it is a glimpse of life from the past and from an unexpected point of view. At times I felt I was reading Dickens although this is set much later- the narrative comes to life so much and even then things had not moved on too much for the poor of the land. A fascinating, captivating , very enjoyable read.

[5t4n5 Dot Com · Rating 5 out of 5]

My school house master, Peter Forest, who was also my maths teacher, one day stated in front of the whole class that i'd either grow up to be the next Einstein or a tramp, and that he feared it would most probably be the latter.   Suffice it to say, i never did get around to doing that degree in theoretical physics.

So when i found this book on Amazon it reminded me of Peter Forest and his condemnation of my future and was certainly instrumental in my purchase.   I wasn't disappointed, so thanks Peter.

The strange thing was the timing, as i let the 'Infinite Improbability Drive' always select my next book from 'The Pile' and it's only been a couple of books since i finished 'Into The Wild', about Chris McCandless, AKA, Alexander Supertramp.   This book certainly flows nicely on from that.   It makes me wonder if Chris had actually read this amongst all the other books mentioned in his story.

William covers his adventures as a tramp during the late 1800's, where he ventures far and wide.   The funniest thing for me was that he was a trustifarian.   I had no idea that these creatures existed back in the 1800, but it's certainly true in William's case, and he even admits it in the book.

When his grandmother died, instead of willing him her property, which she knew he would squander rather quickly, she instead put it into trust from which he was given an allowance.   So off he goes to America, tramping around, living on hand outs and goodwill, while all the time his weekly allowance from his trust fund is being saved up for his return.   And he can return at any time, by working cattle ships from Baltimore, and even getting paid while doing so.

Even later on when he gets back the England, he continues to drop out into his tramping lifestyle while his trust fund rebuilds his bank account in order to fund his next adventure.   I wonder if William was the original trustifarian, were there others before him?

Without a doubt, a very good inside look into the mind and lifestyle of the typical trustifarian.   But, on top of that, it's a very revealing look into this odd sub-culture of the underclass of the age and the lifestyles they lead and how they managed to support themselves.   Although, one can't really get away from realising that most of these people were simply down where they were due to alcoholism, with every opportunity of spending any penny they managed to accrue on getting drunk always eagerly taken -- no, nothing much changes.

Anyways, an enlightening piece of history of the Victorian age seen from a very different view point to the normal history books and biographies.

[R Davies · Rating 3 out of 5]

Whereas the previous fictionalised memoir I'd read could easily be accused of a thorough over-indulgence to it's detriment ( Shantaram ), this certainly cannot be levelled at WH Davies' account. This turn of the century tale of an itinerant wanderer, who tramped widely across North America and Britain is one of sparse, economical prose. Events are rendered swiftly, characters with odd nicknames are mentioned mostly in passing, save the odd one or two who has left an impression on the author such as Brum, in America, and the chapters are very short as the tales fly along.

The lack of indulgence is appreciated, but there are times when you think the author has set us up for a closer examination of a person, or a place, only to realise he has dispensed with his thoughts on the matter in that one or two paragraphs.

However in general, it remains a fascinating flick through the eyes of this tramping man, giving you insight into the contemporary attitudes in both America and Britain to such types - certainly warmer in the former - and a window into a world that feels a million miles away from what we know will happen, in a couple of decades time.

There are some ugly moments, though, the racism on display by the author when he repeats grotesque stereotypes about African-Americans is particularly jarring, especially as otherwise he's largely come across as pretty perceptive, with some empathy to inequalities, or prejudicial attitudes in other environment, but sadly it is not the case in the brief encounters he has with the black americans. Revoltingly, he seems to believe a lynching of a black man is a justifiable punishment. To say this passage of the book was a shock is an understatement.

From thereon, there's a sour taste as you read the rest of his reflections. A reminder of the depth of racism in the world even amongst those who might be considered more progressive perhaps.

One gets the impression that much has been removed from the first draft, as mentioned in the foreward to the edition I read, and the lack of attention that is given to any relationship he may have established with people, sexual or otherwise, creates a very detatched impression of him, sustaining an image of zealous independence in a certain fashion. Though given the degree of dependency on the offerings of others, that would be a somewhat ironic characterisation.

[Krishna Srinivasan · Rating 4 out of 5]

I came across this book watching the film, Into the Wild (2007), whose protagonist calls himself Alexander Supertramp, in tribute to the book.

This is a brilliant work - non fiction, but written in the style of fiction. Why is this not more well known? Why is it not wider read, and championed by those whose literature, clearly and obviously, is influenced by this brilliant work of fictional autobiography? It seems to me a book such as Orwell's Down and Out in Paris and London owes a lot to Welsh poet W.H. Davies.

The work describes the first 35 years of the narrator's life: his upbringing in rural Wales surrounded by family and friends who each are memorable characters within themselves; his move to America where he begs, tramps, works and drinks; his attempts to find gold in Canada which ends in the loss of his leg; his return to Britain, and life in London attempting to make it as a poet on little money and resources; and finally his success as a man of letters, triumphant and hard earned.

Written in a very British style, similar to Orwell - clear, easy to read prose containing musical sentences with a certain jumpy rhythm and an excitable lyricism - it reveals the poet in W.H. Davies. His life was a series of crazy stories one after the other, fuelled by his restless spirit and inestimable thirst for adventure.

George Bernard Shaw said about it, 'I have read it through from beginning to end and would have read more had there been any more to read.' Hmmm, I disagree. I found certain sections were repetitive, not in the early American chapters, but more in the second half, back in Britain. Descriptions of girdlers were repeated, stories of tramping were annoying similar to ones previous. But perhaps an editor's love for the book as a whole, prohibited removal of passages for which they would have had a deep admiration...

All in all, superb book and would highly recommend.

[Ian Russell · Rating 5 out of 5]

Probably one of my favourite books. I acquired it from school, along with two others, The Oxford Book of 20th Century Verse and John Wyndham's The Day of the Triffids - these weren't earned as any academic award, I left school finally by the side entrance and just neglected to give them back. I reckon the school owed me something and, hey, these books got me reading literature of my own volition.

As a youngster, I thought this was the best, real-life, ripping adventure story; one man, albeit a ''bum'', against the world. I loved the romantic idea of freely hopping on and off passing freight trains, avoiding the law and its often brutal officials, and exploring the vast North American continent. However, when I reread it decades later I actually believe I got more from it, especially the later chapters concerning poverty, the poor laws and the conditional idea of charity in late 19th century England. And this guy who I thought was a ''bum'' was really a famous poet - ''What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare?'' which could easily be my personal motto.

Highly recommended.

[Sarah · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book has a dated feel to it because of the style of writing. While the author did indeed seem to go through some very interesting experiences, it does leave a reader of the modern age feeling like there was a lot missing - such as emotions, thoughts, descriptions. There is some dialogue, but it's mostly a relating of what happened without a tapestry of imagination that brings it to life. I felt really left out of the writer's inner thoughts, beyond how much money he was spending, especially when it came to where he lost his leg and was fitted with an artificial one. This was dealt with in no more or less attention than being mistaken for a murderer in one town or how much money it was to spend a night in a certain hostel. I had to make up a lot of the story in my head to fill in the blanks, but it was a very interesting tale of one man's journey through parts of the US and England.

[The Bauchler · Rating 4 out of 5]

This isn’t a review; I’m just simply saying why.

I remember seeing this in my school library, its front cover (the multicoloured one) stood out and made it look interesting, different, mebby a bit dangerous, too.

The thing was it was in the older kids’ aisle, in which us wee ones were not supposed to go. You could look from afar, but certainly not borrow.

When I felt especially rebellious, I used to chance a quick grab a book and a quick look. I usually only got to read the blurb or even just look at the pictures – Gollancz hardbacks were the best😊
I dunno if the book disappeared or I lost interest in it, but when I was a big un I never took it out but ever after remembered the title. When I got into music Supertramp became minor deities to me for a while and again I remembered the book.

So, after 40 odd years I got round to reading it this week.

Very glad I did, too.

[Amy · Rating 3 out of 5]

What it's about: The autobiography of poet W.H.Davies before he became famous. For much of the last years of the 19th Century he was a tramp, either by choice or latterly by circumstance. With a dispassionate voice given to seeing the good in almost everyone, he recounts ordinary and extraordinary events from this time.

I found this work notable for its calm voice, which never seemed to get excited by any event or person. It made me work harder as a reader to understand who he was as a person. I enjoyed this voice, and the unique insight into a world that by its very nature meant that few genuine voices from it would ever be heard.

I found it a little rambling in parts and should probably have treated it as something to be dipped into rather than read straight through as I did.

[MikeB · Rating 5 out of 5]

I don't read that many books due to time constraints. I bought this book in a book sale. It has the ability to grip your imagination and throw you into life at the turn of the 1900s. It pulls you into understanding the hardships of those times both in England and North America. The section that really struck me was the uncharitable attitude of the charities of the time. The Author was trying to secure funding for an artificial leg. It opens ones eyes to the fact donations can be swallowed up and heavily guarded by the very people than should be dispensing it.
I was pleased to see many good reviews of the book, which is well deserved. A great read.

[James Lundy · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a fantastic and rare read. How many tramps from the late 19th century / early 20th century wrote books to give you a vivid picture of what it was like to be a tramp then? Not an outsider romanticizing it or trying to make it sound pitiable. This is the only one I know of. I love credible glimpses of other worlds and other times.

[Karen Rye · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not my usual cup of tea, but nonetheless diverting. Comedic, sad, inspiring and yet awkward to read. Beautifully written in places, spasmodic and clumsy in others.