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    Diary Of A Nobody
    Diary Of A Nobody
    Diary Of A Nobody
    Ebook214 pages7 hours

    Diary Of A Nobody

    By George Grossmith

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    The Diary of a Nobody is a nineteenth-century comic novel co-written by the two English brothers George and Weedon Grossmith. The volume also includes illustrations by the latter author. Being first published in the magazine Punch before taking the present form, The Diary of a Nobody is considered today as a brilliant humor classic of the English tongue. The narrative purports to be the personal records of Mr. Charles Pooter, a middle-aged man with social and professional aspirations who lives in the suburbs of Upper Holloway. The most comic moments of the story often describe Pooter’s interaction with the other characters in the novel, mainly his spiritualist wife Carrie, his naughty son Lupin as well as his ever-mocking friends and the people in the neighborhood with whom he often engages in hilarious discussions. Despite the hardships that he has to go through along with the miserable conditions in the neighborhood, Pooter manages to maintain his good temper and his sense of humor. The book generally provides English readers with a very familiar painting of suburban life and the customs and manners of the middle-class.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherA Word To The Wise
    Release dateAug 20, 2013
    ISBN9781780007151
    Author

    George Grossmith

    George Grossmith (1847-1912) was born in London. As a young adult George joined his father as a performer on the stage, a career which spanned four decades, during which time he wrote successful comic operas, musical sketches and innumerable songs. In 1892 he collaborated with his brother Weedon, publishing The Diary of a Nobody from a series of humorous columns they’d previously written for Punch magazine. It has been in print ever since.

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    Reviews for Diary Of A Nobody

    3.5/5

    703 ratings36 reviews

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    • 4/5
      "Some people seem quite destitute a sense of Humour."The Diary of a Nobody was originally intended as a spoof against all the diaries that were being published and serialised at the time of writing yet today in the age of Blogs, Facebook and Twitter, where celebrity status can be gained seemingly without an awful lot of talent, it seems even more relevant. The book centres around Charlie Pooter (the Nobody), his wife Carrie and their son Lupin. Charlie Pooter is a City clerk who lives with his wife in Holloway. Their son Willie initially works for a bank in Oldham but early in the diary returns home after being dismissed announcing that he wants to be known by his middle name Lupin henceforth. Lupin is a chancer and everything that his father isn't. Mr Pooter has a strong sense of his own worth yet every-time he finds himself in a position that might work to his advantage some social gaffe means he misses out on the opportunity. The Pooters’ life is therefore made up of small pleasures and modest social occasions, many of which end embarrassingly and usually also involve his close friends Mr Gowings and Mr Cummings. Yet despite it all he ultimately triumphs.Sadly the world of Charles Pooter, a world of simple pleasures and of lifelong loyalty to one employer, has long disappeared yet there will probably be opportunities for people like Lupin. Yet it could be argued that the literary influence of this book, (Adrian Mole and Bridget Jones for example) can still be seen today. In fact many of the embarrassing misunderstandings that afflict Mr Pooter are directly reflected in these much later characters and afore mentioned Bloggers etc. When Mr Pooter tells Carrie and Lupin that, “I was in hopes that, if anything ever happened to me, the diary would be an endless source of pleasure to you both; to say nothing of the chance of the remuneration which may accrue from its being published”, both “burst out laughing”. But by way of an apology Carrie states; "I did not mean to be rude, dear Charlie; but truly I do not think your diary would sufficiently interest the public to be taken up by a publisher."There is a brief preview before each chapter which gives a tantalising outline of what is to follow without giving away too much detail. This is not a book that will make you laugh out loud, rather it has a gentle absurdity about it. I ended up feeling a great empathy for staid old Charlie hoping that his loyalty and sense of duty would ultimately prevail, as such I felt that the author's writing style set exactly the right tone. It is a book that has withstood the test of time, one that you read with a smile on your face and as such it deserves to be regarded as a classic.
    • 5/5
      I love this book - it's the second time I've read it and I enjoyed it this time just as much as the first. Charles Pooter, an ordinary little man, albeit rather pompous and self opinionated, decides to keep a diary to record the daily events of his life. Through this diary we learn so much about him as he records his hopes and aspirations, together with the many mishaps which befall him. He constantly reminded me of Captain Mainwaing of Dad's Army fame. The story is full of gentle humour and you have to warm to Charles as he struggles to achieve a higher place in society and cope with his errant son Lupin.This book was first published over 100 years ago and I think it's a little classic. Consisting of only about 150 pages, it's an easy, enjoyable read and I'd recommend it to anyone.
    • 4/5
      The diary of suburban "nobody" Charles Pooter who, while being the target for a (gentle) satire of the Victorian middle class, is quite endearing in his complete lack of self-awareness and his unfailing belief in the power of terrible puns to amuse anyone... Instantly recognisable characters and situations and just as funny over a century after it was published.
    • 4/5
      The Diary of a Nobody written by George Grossmith and illustrated by his brother Weedon Grossmith is an English comic novel that was first published as a serial in Punch magazine in 1888-89 and then presented in book form in 1892. The book is written as the diary that records the daily lives of a London clerk, Charles Pooter, his wife Carrie, his son Lupin and many of his friends and acquaintances over a 15 month period has become a true classic and is still in print today.Much of the humor in this book is developed from the Pooter’s attempt to rise above their middle class life and the social humiliations that this resulted in. Charles Pooter’s pretensions and petty concerns become a wry satire on middle class aspirations that often sees the reader chuckling and wincing at the same time.The Diary of a Nobody is a quick and amusing read that is quaint and funny yet also gives us a glimpse into the past and a way of life that has for the most part disappeared. Even though the book is more than a century old, many will recognize the timeless character of Pooter from their own social circle or even from gazing into the mirror.
    • 4/5
      This is one of my comfort books. Read it a million times and it still makes me smile.
    • 3/5
      I don't think I was supposed to like Mr Pooter but I felt great sympathy for a simple and conventional man and felt him unfairly picked on.
    • 3/5
      Lightly entertaining and funny while it lasted, but I found it quite unmemorable. It ended suddenly and without any real developments, which was too bad, as it seemed to be going somewhere.
    • 5/5
      One of the all time great funny books. I particularly love this as we live in Upper Holloway just up the road from Pooterland. I particularly love hearing this read aloud. Brilliant.
    • 4/5
      "Met a Mr. McCarvill. Did not care for him."This is cute stuff. The mighty, noble venality of the petty bourgeois. Yer modern equivalent might be a "Home Improvement" that gets that that Tim Allen dude is fucking terrible, but finds some affection anyway because it's the terrible old regular people that keep things going.
    • 2/5
      It was a fairly quick read. It was funny too, I'll admit that. Not laugh out loud funny, but kind of sitcom-like, if it were a sitcom based in 1892! In fact, the date thing is funny, as what struck me most was that even though the book is 114 years old, it still feels...well, not modern, but not as dated as you'd expect. It was a pleasant enough read. Not really my thing, but it was interesting to read outside of my comfort zone.
    • 5/5
      One of the funniest books I have ever read. Mr Pooter is a scatterbrained charmer who does the daftest things for apparently sensible reasons.Among other idiocies he paints his bath red with what turns out to be paint not suitable for metal and ends up covered with paint himself.Endearing and hilariously funny
    • 4/5
      Considering that nothing in particular really happened in this book -- no deaths, no divorces, no marriages among the important characters, no births, etc. -- I found it surprisingly interesting. This is an excellent portrait of middle-class Victorian England life that, I think, would be useful to someone researching the period. And it was amusing and definitely a page-turner; Lupin's employment woes did it for me.
    • 4/5
      The wit and humor in this novel stands the test time.
    • 3/5
      I found this intermittently funny, but rather one-tone and sad. It is very British in its reliance on themes of social embarrassment and the fear of wearing the wrong clothes or paying the wrong amount. I'm glad it ended well for him, but I'm also glad it ended when it did.
    • 4/5
      When I was a kid, I didn't get most of the references in Bugs Bunny cartoons. I watched and loved them, but much of the pop culture references of the 30s, 40s, and 50s went right over my head. At least, they did at first. Turns out, I had begun to pick up on those references just by watching, and eventually they became funny for me.The humor in The Diary of a Nobody is a lot like that for me. I'm pretty good at picking out the lines that are supposed to be humorous, and when they're not, I start to look for what I might be missing.The result is a very educational experience. I learned a lot about middle class English life in the 1890s. What struck me most of all was how similar, in many ways, it was to today.A short read, and recommended for anyone who wants to learn more about a culture not so far removed from our own.
    • 3/5
      An amusing book, but not laugh-out-loud funny. Mr Pooter is snobby, petty and weak, but he comes across as a basically good person.Apart from the comedy aspect, there are some interesting insights into victorian life.
    • 4/5
      The diary of Charles Pooter, a clerk in the City of London at the end of the nineteenth century, who doesn't see why he shouldn't have just as much right to publish his diary as the next man. As the epigraph says:Why should I not publish my diary? I have often seen reminiscences of people I have never even herd of, and I fail to see - because I do not happen to be a 'Somebody' - why my diary should not be interesting. My only regret is that I did not commence it when I was a youth'So in this gentle comedy we are introduced to Pooter's wife Carrie, his friends Cummings and Gowing, and above all to his only son Lupin, whose relationship to his father proves without a doubt that the generation gap was not invented in the 1960s! For while Pooter is respectable, conservative and intensely loyal to the firm for which he has worked for over 20 years, Lupin is prone to losing his job, getting home in the early hours of the morning, getting up at lunchtime and is a mystery and a worry to his father. But above all the book pokes fun (in a gentle way) at Mr Pooter's constant attempts to maintain his status as a lower-middle class gentleman in his residence at Brickfields Terrace, constantly thwarted by dealings with prosperous tradesmen who think themselves every bit as good as he is.This isn't laugh out loud funny, but it is a gentle humour which has stood the test of time.
    • 5/5
      Being the quotidian reflections of humble civil servant Charles Pooter, who at night poured out his hilariously deadpan reflections on his mundane life and work to his journal. This is the funniest book ever written.
    • 3/5
      I have shelved this book as "humour" in deference to what it says on the back-cover blurb, but, despite being patriotically partial to the English style of gentle, parochial fun-poking, this just didn't quite hit the spot.

      It's certainly interesting enough to finish and has some amusing moments to enjoy, but I didn't take to Mr Pooter and his circle in the way I expected. I was (foolishly, I suppose) hoping for another Mr Pickwick and his club, but the Grossmiths are not Dickens, but then, who is?

      I will, I think, give it another try in a few years in order to see whether time has added to its charm, but for now I shall shelve it with mild disappointment.
    • 4/5
      a very enjoyable and easy read, great when you can only spare a few minutes with a book and want to be amused
    • 2/5
      I'm sorry. This is supposed to be one of the funniest of books - according to the English. Huh? It is only mildly amusing. When you finish it, you'll ask, "So what?"
    • 5/5
      Gentle humour. Fairly short; can be read in an evening.
    • 3/5
      English comic novel set in 1890's is a novel of Charles Pooter, a clerk. Through its humor the reader gets a picture of 1890 and what it is to be neither upper social or lower social class. Remarkably, could fit yet today.
    • 4/5
      Charles Pooter slips fully-formed into these pages and delights us with his naive observations on his own humdrum domestic life in Victorian England. Among the great skills of the brothers Grossmith who created this classic character are their ability to make Pooter's low-reaching snobbery endearing, the clarity of caricature that allows us to see the real world behind cast in an absurd light, and a quality of humour that wraps us in like welcome guests at a modest but convivial party.
    • 4/5
      I was surprised at how much I enjoyed this. Another book that doesn't require a great deal of brainpower. I found myself (figuratively) cheering for pompous, socially clueless Mr. Pooter and his loving wife.
    • 3/5
      A pleasantly amusing read. Although, if I ever feel the urge to read about awkward misunderstandings, clumsy accidents, embarrassing situations and the not-remarkably-funny jokes, of an unconsciously snobbish, inarticulate, fairly ridiculous, self important nobody in a middle class household I can always flip through my own diary.

      Which, quite naturally, leads me to wholeheartedly agree with Mr. Pooter, "Why should I not publish my diary? I have often seen reminiscences of people I have never even heard of, and I fail to see--because I do not happen to be a 'Somebody'--why my diary should not be interesting."
      So,
      Coming soon to a bookshop near you: The Diary of a Yet Another Nobody
    • 4/5
      He may be a nobody but it's hard not to fall for this utterly sweet, well-meaning but clumsy diarist. There's not much heft, but a lot of heart.
    • 4/5
      An enjoyable read. Plenty of comedy and I also liked the punch style cartoons and the Victorian photographs. A nice light read.
    • 5/5
      The book is as the title claims; a diary of events that could have happened to any random someone in the late 1800s. There is nothing hefty here, there is no real serious issue, just the life of a man who is part of a family, who have friends and meet people. It sounds completely uninteresting, but it's a classic and the comedy is a real joy to experience, as is the history itself. If you ever wanted to feel as if you were in a family from history, you should think about picking this one up.
    • 3/5
      Comedy of manners with a bumbling protagonist, Charles Pooter. Funny if you like that sort of thing, which I guess I don't all that much. I smiled a few times, laughed once or twice. Recommended for: fans of Jeeves, British comedies, class-based satires.

    Book preview

    Diary Of A Nobody - George Grossmith

    The Diary Of A Nobody

    By George & Weedon Grossmith

    Introduction by Mr. Pooter

    Why should I not publish my diary?  I have often seen reminiscences

    of people I have never even heard of, and I fail to see - because I

    do not happen to be a 'Somebody' - why my diary should not be

    interesting.  My only regret is that I did not commence it when I

    was a youth.

    Charles Pooter

    The Laurels,

    Brickfield Terrace

    Holloway.

    CHAPTER I.

    We settle down in our new home, and I resolve to keep a diary.

    Tradesmen trouble us a bit, so does the scraper.  The Curate calls

    and pays me a great compliment.

    My clear wife Carrie and I have just been a week in our new house,

    The Laurels, Brickfield Terrace, Holloway - a nice six-roomed

    residence, not counting basement, with a front breakfast-parlour.

    We have a little front garden; and there is a flight of ten steps

    up to the front door, which, by-the-by, we keep locked with the

    chain up.  Cummings, Gowing, and our other intimate friends always

    come to the little side entrance, which saves the servant the

    trouble of going up to the front door, thereby taking her from her

    work.  We have a nice little back garden which runs down to the

    railway.  We were rather afraid of the noise of the trains at

    first, but the landlord said we should not notice them after a bit,

    and took 2 pounds off the rent.  He was certainly right; and beyond

    the cracking of the garden wall at the bottom, we have suffered no

    inconvenience.

    After my work in the City, I like to be at home.  What's the good

    of a home, if you are never in it?  Home, Sweet Home, that's my

    motto.  I am always in of an evening.  Our old friend Gowing may

    drop in without ceremony; so may Cummings, who lives opposite.  My

    dear wife Caroline and I are pleased to see them, if they like to

    drop in on us.  But Carrie and I can manage to pass our evenings

    together without friends.  There is always something to be done:  a

    tin-tack here, a Venetian blind to put straight, a fan to nail up,

    or part of a carpet to nail down - all of which I can do with my

    pipe in my mouth; while Carrie is not above putting a button on a

    shirt, mending a pillow-case, or practising the Sylvia Gavotte on

    our new cottage piano (on the three years' system), manufactured by

    W. Bilkson (in small letters), from Collard and Collard (in very

    large letters).  It is also a great comfort to us to know that our

    boy Willie is getting on so well in the Bank at Oldham.  We should

    like to see more of him.  Now for my diary:-

    April 3. - Tradesmen called for custom, and I promised Farmerson,

    the ironmonger, to give him a turn if I wanted any nails or tools.

    By-the-by, that reminds me there is no key to our bedroom door, and

    the bells must be seen to.  The parlour bell is broken, and the

    front door rings up in the servant's bedroom, which is ridiculous.

    Dear friend Gowing dropped in, but wouldn't stay, saying there was

    an infernal smell of paint.

    April 4.  Tradesmen still calling; Carrie being out, I arranged to

    deal with Horwin, who seemed a civil butcher with a nice clean

    shop.  Ordered a shoulder of mutton for to-morrow, to give him a

    trial.  Carrie arranged with Borset, the butterman, and ordered a

    pound of fresh butter, and a pound and a half of salt ditto for

    kitchen, and a shilling's worth of eggs.  In the evening, Cummings

    unexpectedly dropped in to show me a meerschaum pipe he had won in

    a raffle in the City, and told me to handle it carefully, as it

    would spoil the colouring if the hand was moist.  He said he

    wouldn't stay, as he didn't care much for the smell of the paint,

    and fell over the scraper as he went out.  Must get the scraper

    removed, or else I shall get into a SCRAPE.  I don't often make

    jokes.

    April 5. - Two shoulders of mutton arrived, Carrie having arranged

    with another butcher without consulting me.  Gowing called, and

    fell over scraper coming in.  MUST get that scraper removed.

    April 6. - Eggs for breakfast simply shocking; sent them back to

    Borset with my compliments, and he needn't call any more for

    orders.  Couldn't find umbrella, and though it was pouring with

    rain, had to go without it.  Sarah said Mr. Gowing must have took

    it by mistake last night, as there was a stick in the 'all that

    didn't belong to nobody.  In the evening, hearing someone talking

    in a loud voice to the servant in the downstairs hall, I went out

    to see who it was, and was surprised to find it was Borset, the

    butterman, who was both drunk and offensive.  Borset, on seeing me,

    said he would be hanged if he would ever serve City clerks any more

    - the game wasn't worth the candle.  I restrained my feelings, and

    quietly remarked that I thought it was POSSIBLE for a city clerk to

    be a GENTLEMAN.  He replied he was very glad to hear it, and wanted

    to know whether I had ever come across one, for HE hadn't.  He left

    the house, slamming the door after him, which nearly broke the

    fanlight; and I heard him fall over the scraper, which made me feel

    glad I hadn't removed it.  When he had gone, I thought of a

    splendid answer I ought to have given him.  However, I will keep it

    for another occasion.

    April 7. - Being Saturday, I looked forward to being home early,

    and putting a few things straight; but two of our principals at the

    office were absent through illness, and I did not get home till

    seven.  Found Borset waiting.  He had been three times during the

    day to apologise for his conduct last night.  He said he was unable

    to take his Bank Holiday last Monday, and took it last night

    instead.  He begged me to accept his apology, and a pound of fresh

    butter.  He seems, after all, a decent sort of fellow; so I gave

    him an order for some fresh eggs, with a request that on this

    occasion they SHOULD be fresh.  I am afraid we shall have to get

    some new stair-carpets after all; our old ones are not quite wide

    enough to meet the paint on either side.  Carrie suggests that we

    might ourselves broaden the paint.  I will see if we can match the

    colour (dark chocolate) on Monday.

    April 8, Sunday. - After Church, the Curate came back with us.  I

    sent Carrie in to open front door, which we do not use except on

    special occasions.  She could not get it open, and after all my

    display, I had to take the Curate (whose name, by-the-by, I did not

    catch,) round the side entrance.  He caught his foot in the

    scraper, and tore the bottom of his trousers.  Most annoying, as

    Carrie could not well offer to repair them on a Sunday.  After

    dinner, went to sleep.  Took a walk round the garden, and

    discovered a beautiful spot for sowing mustard-and-cress and

    radishes.  Went to Church again in the evening:  walked back with

    the Curate.  Carrie noticed he had got on the same pair of

    trousers, only repaired.  He wants me to take round the plate,

    which I think a great compliment.

    CHAPTER II.

    Tradesmen and the scraper still troublesome.  Gowing rather

    tiresome with his complaints of the paint.  I make one of the best

    jokes of my life.  Delights of Gardening.  Mr. Stillbrook, Gowing,

    Cummings, and I have a little misunderstanding.  Sarah makes me

    look a fool before Cummings

    April 9. - Commenced the morning badly.  The butcher, whom we

    decided NOT to arrange with, called and blackguarded me in the most

    uncalled-for manner.  He began by abusing me, and saying he did not

    want my custom.  I simply said:  "Then what are you making all this

    fuss about it for?"  And he shouted out at the top of his voice, so

    that all the neighbours could hear:  "Pah! go along.  Ugh!  I could

    buy up 'things' like you by the dozen!"

    I shut the door, and was giving Carrie to understand that this

    disgraceful scene was entirely her fault, when there was a violent

    kicking at the door, enough to break the panels.  It was the

    blackguard butcher again, who said he had cut his foot over the

    scraper, and would immediately bring an action against me.  Called

    at Farmerson's, the ironmonger, on my way to town, and gave him the

    job of moving the scraper and repairing the bells, thinking it

    scarcely worth while to trouble the landlord with such a trifling

    matter.

    Arrived home tired and worried.  Mr. Putley, a painter and

    decorator, who had sent in a card, said he could not match the

    colour on the stairs, as it contained Indian carmine.  He said he

    spent half-a-day calling at warehouses to see if he could get it.

    He suggested he should entirely repaint the stairs.  It would cost

    very little more; if he tried to match it, he could only make a bad

    job of it.  It would be more satisfactory to him and to us to have

    the work done properly.  I consented, but felt I had been talked

    over.  Planted some mustard-and-cress and radishes, and went to bed

    at nine.

    April 10. - Farmerson came round to attend to the scraper himself.

    He seems a very civil fellow.  He says he does not usually conduct

    such small jobs personally, but for me he would do so.  I thanked

    him, and went to town.  It is disgraceful how late some of the

    young clerks are at arriving.  I told three of them that if Mr.

    Perkupp, the principal, heard of it, they might be discharged.

    Pitt, a monkey of seventeen, who has only been with us six weeks,

    told me to keep my hair on!  I informed him I had had the honour

    of being in the firm twenty years, to which he insolently replied

    that I looked it.  I gave him an indignant look, and said:  "I

    demand from you some respect, sir.  He replied:  All right, go on

    demanding."  I would not argue with him any further.  You cannot

    argue with people like that.  In the evening Gowing called, and

    repeated his complaint about the smell of paint.  Gowing is

    sometimes very tedious with his remarks, and not always cautious;

    and Carrie once very properly reminded him that she was present.

    April 11. - Mustard-and-cress and radishes not come up yet.  To-day

    was a day of annoyances.  I missed the quarter-to-nine 'bus to the

    City, through having words with the grocer's boy, who for the

    second time had the impertinence to bring his basket to the hall-

    door, and had left the marks of his dirty boots on the fresh-

    cleaned door-steps.  He said he had knocked at the side door with

    his knuckles for a quarter of an hour.  I knew Sarah, our servant,

    could not hear this, as she was upstairs doing the bedrooms, so

    asked the boy why he did not ring the bell?  He replied that he did

    pull the bell, but the handle came off in his hand.

    I was half-an-hour late at the office, a thing that has never

    happened to me before.  There has recently been much irregularity

    in the attendance of the clerks, and Mr. Perkupp, our principal,

    unfortunately choose this very morning to pounce down upon us

    early.  Someone had given the tip to the others.  The result was

    that I was the only one late of the lot.  Buckling, one of the

    senior clerks, was a brick, and I was saved by his intervention.

    As I passed by Pitt's desk, I heard him remark to his neighbour:

    How disgracefully late some of the head clerks arrive!  This was,

    of course, meant for me.  I treated the observation with silence,

    simply giving him a look, which unfortunately had the effect of

    making both of the clerks laugh.  Thought afterwards it would have

    been more dignified if I had pretended not to have heard him at

    all.  Cummings called in the evening, and we played dominoes.

    April 12. - Mustard-and-cress and radishes not come up yet.  Left

    Farmerson repairing the scraper, but when I came home found three

    men working.  I asked the meaning of it, and Farmerson said that in

    making a fresh hole he had penetrated the gas-pipe. 

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