Reviews for The Newcomes

The average rating for The Newcomes based on 2 reviews is 4 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2012-02-22 00:00:00 Travis Schatz I picked up this book after reading Trollope's "Ralph the Heir," which mentions the main character of this book quite a number of times as a paragon of virtue and heroics. I was intrigued, and, the book happened to be sitting on my shelves. For the first 400 pages this was the most rambling, not-to-the (or any)-point book ever. I kept getting glimpses of the story, of the important characters, the themes, but they kept constantly being dropped along the wayside of asides and personal feelings and even seemingly (and possibly) incomplete thoughts and I don't know what else. Obviously there were enough semi-hidden jewels to keep me inclined to keep reading, and even before the 400 pg mark I truly was invested in the character of the Colonel (if still bewildered at the book's directionless momentum). However, sometimes a book is a struggle when one comes close to 400 pages and still doesn't have much of a clue about the main purpose of the book. I was fairly sure that Thackeray wouldn't let me down, but I feel for those people who were dragged through 23 months of serialization when this book was first published! I wouldn't suggest this book for anyone not well versed or deeply interested in Victoriana because of the statements made above. It's just not a good starting place and not at all a good introduction to Thackeray probably. All that said, I've spent the last hour with a box of kleenex and a very full heart. What the first volume lacked, the second certainly made up for in every way. Things seemed to get much more concise, well-ordered and to-the-point. The second volume is where the characters, who except for the Colonel, have hardly become more than 1 dimensional, really come to life. And then, boy do they! All of a sudden we have so many real people to keep track of that we can hardly hold them all in our hearts. At least in the latter half of this book I think Thackeray has almost combined the best of Trollope and of Dickens in his wonderful characterizations and incredibly moving and absorbing story-line. By saying that, I'm not saying Thackeray doesn't have a great style all his own, only mentioning that he seemed to be able to combine both of those admirable men's greatest talents into one place. And he did it very well. I was completely pleased and delighted with the second volume and think that all the slogging through of the first was worth it. The relationships were fascinating. In the beginning I worried that this might be a book about a spoiled boy who didn't honor his worthy father. It was so wonderfully the opposite, and Clive loves his father (and vice versa) in a beautifully touching way. The bits where they have misunderstood one another and then come back together were probably some of the best paragraphs to come from pen in terms of relationships between father & son. The growth of some of the characters (and degradation of others) was quite masterfully done. I don't think I'm likely to forget this book in a hurry. Some great points: -"'Tom Jones,' sir,; 'Joseph Andrews,' sir," he cried, twirling his mustachios. "I read them when I was a boy, when I kept other bad company, and did other low and disgraceful things, of which I'm ashamed now." (Colonel Newcome's opinion of Thackeray, vol 1, pg 41--had me laughing) -"'I think every m an would like to come of an ancient and honorable race,' said the Colonel in his honest way. 'As you like your father to be an honorable man, why not your grandfather, and his ancestors before him? But if we can't inherit a good name, at least we can do our best to leave one, my boy; and that is an ambition, which, please God, you and I will both hold by." (vol 1, 72) -"She discovered that she was a great unappreciated soul, and when a woman finds that treasure in her bosom, of course she sets her own price upon the article." (vol 1, 329) -"You see there come moments of sorrow after the most brilliant victories; and you conquer and rout the enemy utterly, and then regret that you fought." (vol 1, 354) -"I thought I might be good once, I used to say my own prayers then. Now I speak them but by rote, and feel ashamed--yes, ashamed to speak them. Is it not horrid to say them, and next morning to be no better than you were last night?" (vol 2, 101) -"You fancy we [women] are all jealous of one another. No protests of ours can take that notion out of your heads....We are not jealous of mediocrity; we are not patient of it. I dare say we are angry because we see men admire it so." (vol 2, 118) -"She was silent too for a while. I could see she was engaged where pious women ever will betake themselves in moments of doubt, of grief, of pain, of separation, of joy even, or whatsoever other trial. They have but to will, and as it were an invisible temple rises around them; their hearts can kneel down there; and the have an audience of the great, the merciful, untiring Counsellor and Consoler." (vol 2, 204) -"The little ills of life are the hardest to bear, as we all very well know. What would the possession of a hundred thousand a year, or fame, and the applause of one's countrymen, or the loveliest and best beloved woman,--of any glory, and happiness, or good fortune, avail to a gentleman, for instance, who was allowed to enjoy them only with the condition of wearing a shoe with a couple of nails or sharp pebbles inside it? All fame and happiness would disappear, and plunge down that shoe. All life would rankle round those little nails." (vol 2, 288) -"What is the victory over such a fellow?" (vol 2, 308)

Review # 2 was written on 2015-04-04 00:00:00 Shaniqua Jones Opening: A crow, who had flown away with a cheese from a dairy-window, sate perched on a tree looking down at a great big frog in a pool underneath him. The frog's hideous large eyes were goggling out of his head in a manner which appeared quite ridiculous to the old blackamoor, who watched the splay-footed slimy wretch with that peculiar grim humour belonging to crows. Not far from the frog a fat ox was browsing; whilst a few lambs frisked about the meadow, or nibbled the grass and buttercups there.