Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift and Baron Munchausen by Rudolf Erich Raspe, 2/5

When I finally get around to reading an enduring classic, it is usually fairly obvious what timeless merits ensured its survival. In the case of Gulliver’s Travels, however, I was surprised to find it exceedingly dull and tediously obsessed with the author’s now-obscure political feuds. Perhaps the most entertaining aspect of this 1888 edition is the unfiltered disapproval evident in the editor’s preface and biography of Jonathan Swift, who apparently played rather fast and loose with the ladies (at least by the standards of the time) and did not shy away from the occasional crass flight of literary fancy. The editor baldly states that he “has not disguised his want of affection for the character of this hero” (10) and is “unable to make the biography a eulogy” (10). He continues further to claim that “The greatest difficulty in the analysis of Swift’s literary character is to discover by what depravity of intellect he acquired a taste for loathsome and filthy ideas, from which every other mind shrinks with disgust” (50). Adding further insult to injury are the numerous footnotes pettily highlighting instances of incorrect grammar in Swift’s at-that-time 162-year-old work. The whole effect was so judgy, self-righteous, uptight, and just stereotypically Victorian that, in retrospect, where I expected to find a commentary on 18th-century morals and issues, I instead encountered an unintentional commentary on 19th-century ones.

The second part of this book consists of the bafflingly ridiculous tall tales of Baron Munchausen, in two volumes. I did not enjoy this unillustrated edition as much as the other that I previously reviewed.

Why I read it: Gulliver’s Travels has been on my to-read list for ages, but I didn’t realize I owned a copy until I was searching for a boring book to combat pregnancy-induced insomnia.