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Idle Thoughts #2
Second Thoughts of an Idle Fellow
Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow, published in 1886, is a collection of humorous essays by Jerome K. Jerome. It was the author's second published book and it helped establish him as a leading English humorist. The book consists of: 1. On the Art of Making Up One's Mind 2. On the Disadvantage of Not Getting What One Wants 3. On the Exceptional Merit attaching to the Things We Meant To Do 4. On the Preparation and Employment of Love Philtres 5. On the Delights and Benefits of Slavery 6. On the Care and Management of Women 7. On the Minding of Other People's Business 8. On the Time Wasted in Looking Before One Leaps 9. On the Nobility of Ourselves 10. On the Motherliness of Man 11. On the Inadvisability of Following Advice 12. On the Playing of Marches at the Funerals Of Marionettes
212 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1898
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About the author
Jerome K. Jerome
808 books1,335 followersJerome Klapka Jerome was an English writer and humorist, best known for the comic travelogue Three Men in a Boat (1889). Other works include the essay collections Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow (1886) and Second Thoughts of an Idle Fellow; Three Men on the Bummel, a sequel to Three Men in a Boat; and several other novels. Jerome was born in Walsall, England, and, although he was able to attend grammar school, his family suffered from poverty at times, as did he as a young man trying to earn a living in various occupations. In his twenties, he was able to publish some work, and success followed. He married in 1888, and the honeymoon was spent on a boat on the River Thames; he published Three Men in a Boat soon afterwards. He continued to write fiction, non-fiction and plays over the next few decades, though never with the same level of success.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 30 reviews
July 9, 2020
È finita la commedia! This 2nd volume impressed me very much. I have been very thoughtful since I have finished reading the last page, while before of it, well, maybe not so much. Just fancy that! I am very lucky in this respect. I have tried to treat the matters of this whole volume as a joke, but this only made me more wretched. It was only pretending to be light-hearted for the sake of the idea, but eventually I had to try and bear it bravely.
JKJ is an odd old fellow! Pardon, he was in his late 30’ when this print was out, still we can say that he was old at 40 years of age, considering he saw the light in the nineteenth century. Anyhow, I seem to have grown to like and love him, especially his daring mockery of Time, World, Society as such. He certainly has not much respect for it. He seems to go out of his way almost to openly insult it. That is to say, it looks that he has grown to feel contempt for this so-called “hero” – whatever its name, which is himself (or herself) a short-lived, puny mortal- a little greater than some others, that is all-and now he sees into the littleness of those that make up for it, as a Society, which in most cases, especially when drunk with overwhelming sentiments and emotion, looms so great to our awed human eyes.
He seems to know us quite well, he even grimly laughs, he might even say with certainty (at least, so it impresses on me): are you not but a phantom – a dream – like the rest of us here?! But then, from deep discouragement, he leaps straight into weighty encouragement, and make us feel immortal, oh, why! Fear not, everything is but a shadow upon the background of the immortality. Not that I feel better now…Well, in this 2nd volume, everything was so death-like! But this was not what I wanted to feel but instead to chase the great dream of life, to lure me on into trying to catch or see new images of its greatness, that is to say of Life itself, because it feels I have still this spirit of child-like faith in its integrity.
These essays pretend to be harmless enough, but in truth they are not. They are full of interest and variety, so from this point of view, you cannot be disappointed. Funny though, you want to feel that, whatever may happen, you have done the right thing by reading, and that no blame can attach to you.
The simple truth concerning it, or its great charm is its reliable uncertainty. I mean the entire volume, as such. But, then again, I incline to agree (most strongly) with JKJ, who says that “we should always be very careful never to give way to exaggeration, it is a habit that grows upon one. And it is such a vulgar habit, too...But, everybody exaggerates nowadays (well, he referred to 19th century, we can simply translate it also to 21st century…). It is an essential requirement, held to be most needful for the battle of life. We have sunk so low now that we try to act our exaggerations, and to live up to our lies. We call it “keeping up appearances”; and no more bitter phrase could, perhaps, have been invented to describe our childish folly.”
In other words, truth and fact are old-fashioned and out-of-date. JKJ seems like some wise old friend talking to you, and telling you about the old days and the old ways of thought, and the old life and the old people, which –and, this is really good news-, is also very much the same as with the present times, in almost all respects.
I loved almost all the texts (95%), and I can even remark that I was impressed – eternally, that is- by a remarkably put question that seems to contain the answer(s) of all the riddles, raised throughout this collection of essays: “In my youth, the question chiefly important to me was – What sort of man shall I decide to be? At nineteen one asks oneself this question; at thirty-nine we say, “I wish Fate hadn’t made me this sort of man.”
This is very, very confusing. Sometimes, I too wonder if I really am myself. It is a naïve confession. Tough luck! Well, don’t pay too high attention to these words. These essays have all that is needed for a worthy experience of reading: strength of character, courage, power of self-forgetfulness, enthusiasm, even the part or role that they should play in our life. I have enjoyed them very much, but at the same time I think I took them in very seriously. Once again, my mistake! 😉
JKJ is an odd old fellow! Pardon, he was in his late 30’ when this print was out, still we can say that he was old at 40 years of age, considering he saw the light in the nineteenth century. Anyhow, I seem to have grown to like and love him, especially his daring mockery of Time, World, Society as such. He certainly has not much respect for it. He seems to go out of his way almost to openly insult it. That is to say, it looks that he has grown to feel contempt for this so-called “hero” – whatever its name, which is himself (or herself) a short-lived, puny mortal- a little greater than some others, that is all-and now he sees into the littleness of those that make up for it, as a Society, which in most cases, especially when drunk with overwhelming sentiments and emotion, looms so great to our awed human eyes.
He seems to know us quite well, he even grimly laughs, he might even say with certainty (at least, so it impresses on me): are you not but a phantom – a dream – like the rest of us here?! But then, from deep discouragement, he leaps straight into weighty encouragement, and make us feel immortal, oh, why! Fear not, everything is but a shadow upon the background of the immortality. Not that I feel better now…Well, in this 2nd volume, everything was so death-like! But this was not what I wanted to feel but instead to chase the great dream of life, to lure me on into trying to catch or see new images of its greatness, that is to say of Life itself, because it feels I have still this spirit of child-like faith in its integrity.
These essays pretend to be harmless enough, but in truth they are not. They are full of interest and variety, so from this point of view, you cannot be disappointed. Funny though, you want to feel that, whatever may happen, you have done the right thing by reading, and that no blame can attach to you.
The simple truth concerning it, or its great charm is its reliable uncertainty. I mean the entire volume, as such. But, then again, I incline to agree (most strongly) with JKJ, who says that “we should always be very careful never to give way to exaggeration, it is a habit that grows upon one. And it is such a vulgar habit, too...But, everybody exaggerates nowadays (well, he referred to 19th century, we can simply translate it also to 21st century…). It is an essential requirement, held to be most needful for the battle of life. We have sunk so low now that we try to act our exaggerations, and to live up to our lies. We call it “keeping up appearances”; and no more bitter phrase could, perhaps, have been invented to describe our childish folly.”
In other words, truth and fact are old-fashioned and out-of-date. JKJ seems like some wise old friend talking to you, and telling you about the old days and the old ways of thought, and the old life and the old people, which –and, this is really good news-, is also very much the same as with the present times, in almost all respects.
I loved almost all the texts (95%), and I can even remark that I was impressed – eternally, that is- by a remarkably put question that seems to contain the answer(s) of all the riddles, raised throughout this collection of essays: “In my youth, the question chiefly important to me was – What sort of man shall I decide to be? At nineteen one asks oneself this question; at thirty-nine we say, “I wish Fate hadn’t made me this sort of man.”
This is very, very confusing. Sometimes, I too wonder if I really am myself. It is a naïve confession. Tough luck! Well, don’t pay too high attention to these words. These essays have all that is needed for a worthy experience of reading: strength of character, courage, power of self-forgetfulness, enthusiasm, even the part or role that they should play in our life. I have enjoyed them very much, but at the same time I think I took them in very seriously. Once again, my mistake! 😉
April 22, 2014
I think Jerome K. Jerome (curious name) is somewhat misrepresented as a humour author. His essays are certainly readable, and there's frequent humour ("He listened to me in rapt ecstasy. I might have been music.") but he's often capable of serious thoughtful comments about our habits and society in general: "Will it matter to the ages whether, once upon a time, the Union Jack or the Tricolour floated over the battlements of Badajoz? Yet we poured our blood into its ditches to decide the question... Why, if the universe be ordered by a Creator to whom all things are possible, the protoplasmic cell? Why not the man that is to be? Shall all generations be so much human waste that he may live? Am I but another layer of the soil preparing for him? ... Looking back the little distance that our dim eyes can penetrate the past, what do we find? Civilizations, built up with infinite care, swept aside and lost."
This book (and the first, Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow) certainly aren't all this serious, but the fact that he can weave together an easygoing intelligence, humour and impressive observations make him as thoroughly enjoyable as he is worthy of your time. At one point a "put out the stars" reference seemed to me to be the inspiration for the famous W.H Auden poem, Funeral Blues. Based on these, I'm looking forward to another non-fiction title of his, Diary of a Pilgrimage.
This book (and the first, Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow) certainly aren't all this serious, but the fact that he can weave together an easygoing intelligence, humour and impressive observations make him as thoroughly enjoyable as he is worthy of your time. At one point a "put out the stars" reference seemed to me to be the inspiration for the famous W.H Auden poem, Funeral Blues. Based on these, I'm looking forward to another non-fiction title of his, Diary of a Pilgrimage.
December 31, 2015
I'm in love. I mean, I was before, anyway, after reading "Three Men in a Boat". Then "Idle Thoughts of an Idle Gentlemen" really cemented my adoration of this man. "Second Thoughts" is just icing on an increasingly potent, mature and tasty cake. These "Thoughts" titles have not the laugh-out-loud hilarity of "Three Men." The themes are universal, timeless, and humorous in the way that life is never what you imagine and always what you don't expect. These essays are of thoughts fully developed and wry with a questioning and longing for better but an experience of life that is dubious of real change. What these essays tell me is that it is only our outsides that ever change - our clothes, our accoutrements, our homes, modes of transportation, etc. All the technology in the world cannot make a more fully realized human being. We have been this way, and had these thoughts, and suffered these disappointments for eons. And we will continue the same way, more or less, for better or worse, until we kill the planet and ourselves.
April 7, 2024
This book gets surprisingly deep at times, enough to make me emotional, and it's always super relatable. There are also enough parts that are genuinely funny, but do expect more serious contemplations in this one. I underlined so many quotes that I really can't all put them in here, but here as some faves:
"A hatchet and a gun are the only intermediaries through which you could convey your meaning by this time."
"She was feeling annoyed with men generally. I do not blame her, I feel annoyed with them myself sometimes."
"Women have many faults, but, thank God, they have on redeeming virtue - they are none of them faultless."
"The fires of persecution served as torches to show Heaven the heroism that was in man."
"...one knows the character of magpies, or rather their lack of character"
One other thing: The author mentions Tom and Jerry (the main character in a book was "own cousin to Tom and Jerry") and I can't find anything about who they might have been and whether they were actually a famous duo or just random names JKJ decided to come up with.
"A hatchet and a gun are the only intermediaries through which you could convey your meaning by this time."
"She was feeling annoyed with men generally. I do not blame her, I feel annoyed with them myself sometimes."
"Women have many faults, but, thank God, they have on redeeming virtue - they are none of them faultless."
"The fires of persecution served as torches to show Heaven the heroism that was in man."
"...one knows the character of magpies, or rather their lack of character"
One other thing: The author mentions Tom and Jerry (the main character in a book was "own cousin to Tom and Jerry") and I can't find anything about who they might have been and whether they were actually a famous duo or just random names JKJ decided to come up with.
July 27, 2025
Amazing! Writes about all the common human thoughts that we all suffer from, written in a humorous way and makes you laugh with its sharp minded jokes. Fast to read, consists of short stories that can be read independently from each other. Wish it was longer, all these essays were brilliant!
August 2, 2020
............
ON THE ART OF MAKING UP ONE'S MIND
From the topic to dressing up to fashionable Byronic gloom and melancholy, to uncertainty about self, author wanders.
............
ON THE DISADVANTAGE OF NOT GETTING WHAT ONE WANTS
The author seems to write down the title ironically, and fight angels, fairies, and even Cinderella, before he makes his meaning clear - having a wish fulfilled isn't necessarily going to bring happiness or contentment, nor is wealth or fame.
"We want everything. All the happiness that earth and heaven are capable of bestowing. Creature comforts, and heart and soul comforts also; and, proud-spirited beings that we are, we will not be put off with a part. Give us only everything, and we will be content."
"So, perhaps the world is wise in promising us the circus. We believe her at first. But after a while, I fear, we grow discouraged."
............
ON THE EXCEPTIONAL MERIT ATTACHING TO THE THINGS WE MEANT TO DO
He begins by expounding on home furniture made from beer barrels and egg-boxes, and proceeds to discuss virtue.
"I can imagine the oyster lecturing a lion on the subject of morality."
But next, the story of a boy and his fireworks, is quite lovely, although the author fails to give a satisfactory explanation, and instead generalised it to categories of other failures generally experienced by most, in public speaking or similar fields.
He turns next to ghosts, legendary or otherwise, and wonders if intimacy with them would do away with fear. Final touch is, though, pure Jerome K. Jerome.
"You, dull old fellow, looking out at me from the glass at which I shave, why do you haunt me? You are the ghost of a bright lad I once knew well. He might have done much, had he lived. I always had faith in him. Why do you haunt me? I would rather think of him as I remember him. I never imagined he would make such a poor ghost."
............
ON THE PREPARATION AND EMPLOYMENT OF LOVE PHILTRES
"May I not admire the daring tulip, because I love also the modest lily? May I not press a kiss upon the sweet violet, because the scent of the queenly rose is precious to me?"
"It is a useful philtre, the juice of that small western flower, that Oberon drops upon our eyelids as we sleep."
His exhortations to the perfect housewife to care about herself are very good points; he hasn't thought of mentioning the other way round.
...........
ON THE DELIGHTS AND BENEFITS OF SLAVERY
It begins seemingly beautifully.
"My study window looks down upon Hyde Park, and often, to quote the familiar promise of each new magazine, it amuses and instructs me to watch from my tower the epitome of human life that passes to and fro beneath."
But what follows immediately is a bitter description of the hateful picture he sees thereby of humanity - apparently the opposite was either visible only in later hours, afternoon and evening promenades, theatregoing and partying and dining out, or in country. He describes them, too, but the bitterness is all there, only worse, steeped in tones despising them.
"So we labour, driven by the whip of necessity, an army of slaves. If we do not our work, the whip descends upon us; only the pain we feel in our stomach instead of on our back. And because of that, we call ourselves free men."
Next he descends on the telephone as it was during his time, with the operator needed to connect the number one wished to call. It's not unfamiliar to readers who experienced calling long distance without direct dialling, but the author is talking about calling a block away. It would be hilarious if it weren't infuriating, and memory of those experiences isn't likely to be funny at any time soon.
"But the question still remains: for what purpose is it all?"
"Civilizations, built up with infinite care, swept aside and lost. Beliefs for which men lived and died, proved to be mockeries. Greek Art crushed to the dust by Gothic bludgeons. ... But there comes a day when the lad understands why he learnt grammar and geography, when even dates have a meaning for him. But this is not until he has left school, and gone out into the wider world. So, perhaps, when we are a little more grown up, we too may begin to understand the reason for our living."
............
ON THE CARE AND MANAGEMENT OF WOMEN
He asked a woman how long a honeymoon should be, a month as it was supposed to be, or a weekend as it was then fashionable.
"A woman takes life too seriously. It is a serious affair to most of us, the Lord knows. That is why it is well not to take it more seriously than need be."
" ... In old strong days men faced real dangers, real troubles every hour; they had no time to cry. Death and disaster stood ever at the door. Men were contemptuous of them. Now in each snug protected villa we set to work to make wounds out of scratches. Every head-ache becomes an agony, every heart-ache a tragedy. It took a murdered father, a drowned sweetheart, a dishonoured mother, a ghost, and a slaughtered Prime Minister to produce the emotions in Hamlet that a modern minor poet obtains from a chorus girl's frown, or a temporary slump on the Stock Exchange. ... "
He asked a man the same question about the ideal duration of a honeymoon.
""My dear boy," he replied; "take my advice, if ever you get married, arrange it so that the honeymoon shall only last a week, and let it be a bustling week into the bargain. Take a Cook's circular tour. Get married on the Saturday morning, cut the breakfast and all that foolishness, and catch the eleven-ten from Charing Cross to Paris. Take her up the Eiffel Tower on Sunday. Lunch at Fontainebleau. Dine at the Maison Doree, and show her the Moulin Rouge in the evening. Take the night train for Lucerne. Devote Monday and Tuesday to doing Switzerland, and get into Rome by Thursday morning, taking the Italian lakes en route. On Friday cross to Marseilles, and from there push along to Monte Carlo. Let her have a flutter at the tables. Start early Saturday morning for Spain, cross the Pyrenees on mules, and rest at Bordeaux on Sunday. Get back to Paris on Monday (Monday is always a good day for the opera), and on Tuesday evening you will be at home, and glad to get there. Don't give her time to criticize you until she has got used to you. No man will bear unprotected exposure to a young girl's eyes. The honeymoon is the matrimonial microscope. Wobble it. Confuse it with many objects. Cloud it with other interests. Don't sit still to be examined. Besides, remember that a man always appears at his best when active, and a woman at her worst. Bustle her, my dear boy, bustle her: I don't care who she may be. Give her plenty of luggage to look after; make her catch trains. Let her see the average husband sprawling comfortably over the railway cushions, while his wife has to sit bolt upright in the corner left to her. Let her hear how other men swear. Let her smell other men's tobacco. Hurry up, and get her accustomed quickly to the sight of mankind. Then she will be less surprised and shocked as she grows to know you. One of the best fellows I ever knew spoilt his married life beyond repair by a long quiet honeymoon. ... After the first day or two he grew tired of talking nonsense, and she of listening to it (it sounded nonsense now they could speak it aloud; they had fancied it poetry when they had had to whisper it); and having no other subject, as yet, of common interest, they would sit and stare in front of them in silence. ... "
............
ON THE MINDING OF OTHER PEOPLE'S BUSINESS
"I believe all the shop-keepers in London save their old stock to palm it off on me at Christmas time."
"Ah, me! how charming and how beautiful "artistes" were in those golden days! Whence have they vanished? Ladies in blue tights and flaxen hair dance before my eyes to-day, but move me not, unless it be towards boredom."
"We abolished, I remember, capital punishment and war; we were excellent young men at heart. Christmas we reformed altogether, along with Bank Holidays, by a majority of twelve. I never recollect any proposal to abolish anything ever being lost when put to the vote. There were few things that we "Stormy Petrels" did not abolish."
Trust the author to give, after all the stories about troubles and irritation caused by Xmas, one about why the festival is needed for human hearts - and he does it twice!
............
ON THE TIME WASTED IN LOOKING BEFORE ONE LEAPS
His descriptions about women finding their money seem based on an entirely forgotten era of women putting purses, and much more, not only in skirt pockets, but the pockets being not only hard to locate, and behind, so they sat on them!
"But it was the thought of more serious matters that lured me into reflections concerning the over-carefulness of women. It is a theory of mine—wrong possibly; indeed I have so been informed—that we pick our way through life with too much care. We are for ever looking down upon the ground. Maybe, we do avoid a stumble or two over a stone or a brier, but also we miss the blue of the sky, the glory of the hills. These books that good men write, telling us that what they call "success" in life depends on our flinging aside our youth and wasting our manhood in order that we may have the means when we are eighty of spending a rollicking old age, annoy me. We save all our lives to invest in a South Sea Bubble; and in skimping and scheming, we have grown mean, and narrow, and hard. We will put off the gathering of the roses till tomorrow, to-day it shall be all work, all bargain-driving, all plotting. Lo, when to-morrow comes, the roses are blown; nor do we care for roses, idle things of small marketable value; cabbages are more to our fancy by the time to-morrow comes."
"I have been told of a young man, who chose his wife with excellent care. Said he to himself, very wisely, "In the selection of a wife a man cannot be too circumspect." He convinced himself that the girl was everything a helpmate should be. She had every virtue that could be expected in a woman, no faults, but such as are inseparable from a woman. Speaking practically, she was perfection. He married her, and found she was all he had thought her. Only one thing could he urge against her—that he did not like her. And that, of course, was not her fault."
............
ON THE NOBILITY OF OURSELVES
"Few things had more terrors for me, when a child, than Heaven—as pictured for me by certain of the good folks round about me. I was told that if I were a good lad, kept my hair tidy, and did not tease the cat, I would probably, when I died, go to a place where all day long I would sit still and sing hymns. (Think of it! as reward to a healthy boy for being good.)"
When he says " ... your culture quite Bostonian", which Boston dies the author refer to, or is it The Bostonians he alludes to?
............
ON THE MOTHERLINESS OF MAN
About rookeries, society and society events.
"The tree withers and you clear the ground, thankful if out of its dead limbs you can make good firewood; but its spirit, its life, is in fifty saplings. The tree dies not, it changes."
............
ON THE INADVISABILITY OF FOLLOWING ADVICE
"I've seen a drunken woman, and they're worse. But a drunken Welsh pony I never want to have anything more to do with so long as I live."
And the author tells you why, in detail.
"It would be the best of all possible worlds if everybody would only follow our advice."
Hilarious recounting about theatre and audience of yore.
"I recollect witnessing the production of a very blood-curdling melodrama at, I think, the old Queen's Theatre. The heroine had been given by the author a quite unnecessary amount of conversation, so we considered. The woman, whenever she appeared on the stage, talked by the yard; she could not do a simple little thing like cursing the Villain under about twenty lines. When the hero asked her if she loved him she stood up and made a speech about it that lasted three minutes by the watch. One dreaded to see her open her mouth. In the Third Act, somebody got hold of her and shut her up in a dungeon. He was not a nice man, speaking generally, but we felt he was the man for the situation, and the house cheered him to the echo. We flattered ourselves we had got rid of her for the rest of the evening. Then some fool of a turnkey came along, and she appealed to him, through the grating, to let her out for a few minutes. The turnkey, a good but soft-hearted man, hesitated.
""Don't you do it," shouted one earnest Student of the Drama, from the Gallery; "she's all right. Keep her there!"
"The old idiot paid no attention to our advice; he argued the matter to himself. "'Tis but a trifling request," he remarked; "and it will make her happy."
""Yes, but what about us?" replied the same voice from the Gallery. "You don't know her. You've only just come on; we've been listening to her all the evening. She's quiet now, you let her be."
""Oh, let me out, if only for one moment!" shrieked the poor woman. "I have something that I must say to my child."
""Write it on a bit of paper, and pass it out," suggested a voice from the Pit. "We'll see that he gets it."
""Shall I keep a mother from her dying child?" mused the turnkey. "No, it would be inhuman."
""No, it wouldn't," persisted the voice of the Pit; "not in this instance. It's too much talk that has made the poor child ill."
"The turnkey would not be guided by us. He opened the cell door amidst the execrations of the whole house. She talked to her child for about five minutes, at the end of which time it died.
""Ah, he is dead!" shrieked the distressed parent.
""Lucky beggar!" was the unsympathetic rejoinder of the house."
Summary:-
"Is real wealth so unevenly distributed as we think?"
"What IS success in life?"
............
ON THE PLAYING OF MARCHES AT THE FUNERALS OF MARIONETTES
Eulogy for a child's doll, torn by a dog.
"What grand acting parts they are, these characters we write for ourselves alone in our dressing-rooms. We are always brave and noble—wicked sometimes, but if so, in a great, high-minded way; never in a mean or little way."
.........
ON THE ART OF MAKING UP ONE'S MIND
From the topic to dressing up to fashionable Byronic gloom and melancholy, to uncertainty about self, author wanders.
............
ON THE DISADVANTAGE OF NOT GETTING WHAT ONE WANTS
The author seems to write down the title ironically, and fight angels, fairies, and even Cinderella, before he makes his meaning clear - having a wish fulfilled isn't necessarily going to bring happiness or contentment, nor is wealth or fame.
"We want everything. All the happiness that earth and heaven are capable of bestowing. Creature comforts, and heart and soul comforts also; and, proud-spirited beings that we are, we will not be put off with a part. Give us only everything, and we will be content."
"So, perhaps the world is wise in promising us the circus. We believe her at first. But after a while, I fear, we grow discouraged."
............
ON THE EXCEPTIONAL MERIT ATTACHING TO THE THINGS WE MEANT TO DO
He begins by expounding on home furniture made from beer barrels and egg-boxes, and proceeds to discuss virtue.
"I can imagine the oyster lecturing a lion on the subject of morality."
But next, the story of a boy and his fireworks, is quite lovely, although the author fails to give a satisfactory explanation, and instead generalised it to categories of other failures generally experienced by most, in public speaking or similar fields.
He turns next to ghosts, legendary or otherwise, and wonders if intimacy with them would do away with fear. Final touch is, though, pure Jerome K. Jerome.
"You, dull old fellow, looking out at me from the glass at which I shave, why do you haunt me? You are the ghost of a bright lad I once knew well. He might have done much, had he lived. I always had faith in him. Why do you haunt me? I would rather think of him as I remember him. I never imagined he would make such a poor ghost."
............
ON THE PREPARATION AND EMPLOYMENT OF LOVE PHILTRES
"May I not admire the daring tulip, because I love also the modest lily? May I not press a kiss upon the sweet violet, because the scent of the queenly rose is precious to me?"
"It is a useful philtre, the juice of that small western flower, that Oberon drops upon our eyelids as we sleep."
His exhortations to the perfect housewife to care about herself are very good points; he hasn't thought of mentioning the other way round.
...........
ON THE DELIGHTS AND BENEFITS OF SLAVERY
It begins seemingly beautifully.
"My study window looks down upon Hyde Park, and often, to quote the familiar promise of each new magazine, it amuses and instructs me to watch from my tower the epitome of human life that passes to and fro beneath."
But what follows immediately is a bitter description of the hateful picture he sees thereby of humanity - apparently the opposite was either visible only in later hours, afternoon and evening promenades, theatregoing and partying and dining out, or in country. He describes them, too, but the bitterness is all there, only worse, steeped in tones despising them.
"So we labour, driven by the whip of necessity, an army of slaves. If we do not our work, the whip descends upon us; only the pain we feel in our stomach instead of on our back. And because of that, we call ourselves free men."
Next he descends on the telephone as it was during his time, with the operator needed to connect the number one wished to call. It's not unfamiliar to readers who experienced calling long distance without direct dialling, but the author is talking about calling a block away. It would be hilarious if it weren't infuriating, and memory of those experiences isn't likely to be funny at any time soon.
"But the question still remains: for what purpose is it all?"
"Civilizations, built up with infinite care, swept aside and lost. Beliefs for which men lived and died, proved to be mockeries. Greek Art crushed to the dust by Gothic bludgeons. ... But there comes a day when the lad understands why he learnt grammar and geography, when even dates have a meaning for him. But this is not until he has left school, and gone out into the wider world. So, perhaps, when we are a little more grown up, we too may begin to understand the reason for our living."
............
ON THE CARE AND MANAGEMENT OF WOMEN
He asked a woman how long a honeymoon should be, a month as it was supposed to be, or a weekend as it was then fashionable.
"A woman takes life too seriously. It is a serious affair to most of us, the Lord knows. That is why it is well not to take it more seriously than need be."
" ... In old strong days men faced real dangers, real troubles every hour; they had no time to cry. Death and disaster stood ever at the door. Men were contemptuous of them. Now in each snug protected villa we set to work to make wounds out of scratches. Every head-ache becomes an agony, every heart-ache a tragedy. It took a murdered father, a drowned sweetheart, a dishonoured mother, a ghost, and a slaughtered Prime Minister to produce the emotions in Hamlet that a modern minor poet obtains from a chorus girl's frown, or a temporary slump on the Stock Exchange. ... "
He asked a man the same question about the ideal duration of a honeymoon.
""My dear boy," he replied; "take my advice, if ever you get married, arrange it so that the honeymoon shall only last a week, and let it be a bustling week into the bargain. Take a Cook's circular tour. Get married on the Saturday morning, cut the breakfast and all that foolishness, and catch the eleven-ten from Charing Cross to Paris. Take her up the Eiffel Tower on Sunday. Lunch at Fontainebleau. Dine at the Maison Doree, and show her the Moulin Rouge in the evening. Take the night train for Lucerne. Devote Monday and Tuesday to doing Switzerland, and get into Rome by Thursday morning, taking the Italian lakes en route. On Friday cross to Marseilles, and from there push along to Monte Carlo. Let her have a flutter at the tables. Start early Saturday morning for Spain, cross the Pyrenees on mules, and rest at Bordeaux on Sunday. Get back to Paris on Monday (Monday is always a good day for the opera), and on Tuesday evening you will be at home, and glad to get there. Don't give her time to criticize you until she has got used to you. No man will bear unprotected exposure to a young girl's eyes. The honeymoon is the matrimonial microscope. Wobble it. Confuse it with many objects. Cloud it with other interests. Don't sit still to be examined. Besides, remember that a man always appears at his best when active, and a woman at her worst. Bustle her, my dear boy, bustle her: I don't care who she may be. Give her plenty of luggage to look after; make her catch trains. Let her see the average husband sprawling comfortably over the railway cushions, while his wife has to sit bolt upright in the corner left to her. Let her hear how other men swear. Let her smell other men's tobacco. Hurry up, and get her accustomed quickly to the sight of mankind. Then she will be less surprised and shocked as she grows to know you. One of the best fellows I ever knew spoilt his married life beyond repair by a long quiet honeymoon. ... After the first day or two he grew tired of talking nonsense, and she of listening to it (it sounded nonsense now they could speak it aloud; they had fancied it poetry when they had had to whisper it); and having no other subject, as yet, of common interest, they would sit and stare in front of them in silence. ... "
............
ON THE MINDING OF OTHER PEOPLE'S BUSINESS
"I believe all the shop-keepers in London save their old stock to palm it off on me at Christmas time."
"Ah, me! how charming and how beautiful "artistes" were in those golden days! Whence have they vanished? Ladies in blue tights and flaxen hair dance before my eyes to-day, but move me not, unless it be towards boredom."
"We abolished, I remember, capital punishment and war; we were excellent young men at heart. Christmas we reformed altogether, along with Bank Holidays, by a majority of twelve. I never recollect any proposal to abolish anything ever being lost when put to the vote. There were few things that we "Stormy Petrels" did not abolish."
Trust the author to give, after all the stories about troubles and irritation caused by Xmas, one about why the festival is needed for human hearts - and he does it twice!
............
ON THE TIME WASTED IN LOOKING BEFORE ONE LEAPS
His descriptions about women finding their money seem based on an entirely forgotten era of women putting purses, and much more, not only in skirt pockets, but the pockets being not only hard to locate, and behind, so they sat on them!
"But it was the thought of more serious matters that lured me into reflections concerning the over-carefulness of women. It is a theory of mine—wrong possibly; indeed I have so been informed—that we pick our way through life with too much care. We are for ever looking down upon the ground. Maybe, we do avoid a stumble or two over a stone or a brier, but also we miss the blue of the sky, the glory of the hills. These books that good men write, telling us that what they call "success" in life depends on our flinging aside our youth and wasting our manhood in order that we may have the means when we are eighty of spending a rollicking old age, annoy me. We save all our lives to invest in a South Sea Bubble; and in skimping and scheming, we have grown mean, and narrow, and hard. We will put off the gathering of the roses till tomorrow, to-day it shall be all work, all bargain-driving, all plotting. Lo, when to-morrow comes, the roses are blown; nor do we care for roses, idle things of small marketable value; cabbages are more to our fancy by the time to-morrow comes."
"I have been told of a young man, who chose his wife with excellent care. Said he to himself, very wisely, "In the selection of a wife a man cannot be too circumspect." He convinced himself that the girl was everything a helpmate should be. She had every virtue that could be expected in a woman, no faults, but such as are inseparable from a woman. Speaking practically, she was perfection. He married her, and found she was all he had thought her. Only one thing could he urge against her—that he did not like her. And that, of course, was not her fault."
............
ON THE NOBILITY OF OURSELVES
"Few things had more terrors for me, when a child, than Heaven—as pictured for me by certain of the good folks round about me. I was told that if I were a good lad, kept my hair tidy, and did not tease the cat, I would probably, when I died, go to a place where all day long I would sit still and sing hymns. (Think of it! as reward to a healthy boy for being good.)"
When he says " ... your culture quite Bostonian", which Boston dies the author refer to, or is it The Bostonians he alludes to?
............
ON THE MOTHERLINESS OF MAN
About rookeries, society and society events.
"The tree withers and you clear the ground, thankful if out of its dead limbs you can make good firewood; but its spirit, its life, is in fifty saplings. The tree dies not, it changes."
............
ON THE INADVISABILITY OF FOLLOWING ADVICE
"I've seen a drunken woman, and they're worse. But a drunken Welsh pony I never want to have anything more to do with so long as I live."
And the author tells you why, in detail.
"It would be the best of all possible worlds if everybody would only follow our advice."
Hilarious recounting about theatre and audience of yore.
"I recollect witnessing the production of a very blood-curdling melodrama at, I think, the old Queen's Theatre. The heroine had been given by the author a quite unnecessary amount of conversation, so we considered. The woman, whenever she appeared on the stage, talked by the yard; she could not do a simple little thing like cursing the Villain under about twenty lines. When the hero asked her if she loved him she stood up and made a speech about it that lasted three minutes by the watch. One dreaded to see her open her mouth. In the Third Act, somebody got hold of her and shut her up in a dungeon. He was not a nice man, speaking generally, but we felt he was the man for the situation, and the house cheered him to the echo. We flattered ourselves we had got rid of her for the rest of the evening. Then some fool of a turnkey came along, and she appealed to him, through the grating, to let her out for a few minutes. The turnkey, a good but soft-hearted man, hesitated.
""Don't you do it," shouted one earnest Student of the Drama, from the Gallery; "she's all right. Keep her there!"
"The old idiot paid no attention to our advice; he argued the matter to himself. "'Tis but a trifling request," he remarked; "and it will make her happy."
""Yes, but what about us?" replied the same voice from the Gallery. "You don't know her. You've only just come on; we've been listening to her all the evening. She's quiet now, you let her be."
""Oh, let me out, if only for one moment!" shrieked the poor woman. "I have something that I must say to my child."
""Write it on a bit of paper, and pass it out," suggested a voice from the Pit. "We'll see that he gets it."
""Shall I keep a mother from her dying child?" mused the turnkey. "No, it would be inhuman."
""No, it wouldn't," persisted the voice of the Pit; "not in this instance. It's too much talk that has made the poor child ill."
"The turnkey would not be guided by us. He opened the cell door amidst the execrations of the whole house. She talked to her child for about five minutes, at the end of which time it died.
""Ah, he is dead!" shrieked the distressed parent.
""Lucky beggar!" was the unsympathetic rejoinder of the house."
Summary:-
"Is real wealth so unevenly distributed as we think?"
"What IS success in life?"
............
ON THE PLAYING OF MARCHES AT THE FUNERALS OF MARIONETTES
Eulogy for a child's doll, torn by a dog.
"What grand acting parts they are, these characters we write for ourselves alone in our dressing-rooms. We are always brave and noble—wicked sometimes, but if so, in a great, high-minded way; never in a mean or little way."
.........
March 28, 2014
A difficult book to read. The author tries to replicate the pacing and humour of his other books, especially "Three Men in a Boat" and is generally unsuccessful. He tries hard and parts of the book flow well, and are very humorous, but overall I could only digest the book in very small pieces. I would not recommend this book as "one to read".
August 28, 2025
Time for a short freebie from a classic writer. Although I enjoyed Three Men in a Boat and Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow, I thought this edition was excessively wordy and wound all over the place before making a point...long after I remembered what the point of the essay was.
What I did enjoy was hearing someone complain about things--the same things we continue to complain about--127 years later. The more things change....
For example, he writes of making crafting household items from everyday objects--such as
And how about decision fatigue? "If I see six bonnets, I can tell the one I want in five minutes. If I see 600 I come away without any bonnet at all," says one of his characters.
Or...how about this (remember, written in 1898), "you either break the telephone or the telephone breaks you."
What I did enjoy was hearing someone complain about things--the same things we continue to complain about--127 years later. The more things change....
For example, he writes of making crafting household items from everyday objects--such as
And how about decision fatigue? "If I see six bonnets, I can tell the one I want in five minutes. If I see 600 I come away without any bonnet at all," says one of his characters.
Or...how about this (remember, written in 1898), "you either break the telephone or the telephone breaks you."
February 7, 2021
2.49 stars from this reader, as this collection contained a few more misses than hits. As is typical for this author, there were quite a few laugh-out-loud bits, but unfortunately the majority of the content was not-as-much. Not a bad read, overall, but there are more consistently humorous works by this author.
March 9, 2024
В общи линии, бих могъл да напиша същото ревю и за втората част от трилогията - британски хумор, философски разсъждения за живота, които понякога се отклоняват прекалено много и се губят тотално от първоначалната идея.
Ако "Празни мисли на един празен човек" ви е харесала, то тази е просто още от същото, както си подсказва заглавието.
Ако "Празни мисли на един празен човек" ви е харесала, то тази е просто още от същото, както си подсказва заглавието.
January 30, 2020
Like a lot of the author's works, this was a rollercoaster ride from beginning to finish, from serious contemplation to comedy to tragedy and back to comedy until the closing black thoughts....amazingly over the top and pedantic at times, and positively Woosterian in others. Love it.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 28, 2018
Delightful.
August 20, 2018
I really enjoy Jerome's writing. I did not enjoy this one as much as Three Men in a Boat but it was still a pleasure to read.
Read
December 12, 2019Ах, сладка ирония...но не ми стигна.
March 18, 2020
the book to be reread; some pages are worth learning by heart; a real pleasure for a lover of English essays.
October 27, 2020
Re-reading po cca 20 letech. Už mi přišlo příliš moc shovívavého nadhledu intelektuálních mužů nad pošetilými ženuškami, byť míněno v dobrém. Londýnské postřehy jsou pořád milé a svěží.
January 2, 2021
Very good. These stories are still actual nowadays
February 6, 2025
Just as good as the first one. Hilarious at times. Wish it were longer 😁
September 19, 2020
I love Jerome K. Jerome, and these "idle thoughts" are both hilarious and thought provoking.
April 27, 2024
Totally loved this book some parts really made me think and there is no other book except maybe some poetry ones that annotated so much.
I always love reading old books since the writing is so much more interesting than in the books I read from today it makes it so much deeper and more meaningful.
I was kinda disappointed from some parts of it without any meaning to me and I felt like it had nothing to say without these parts that sometimes made it harder to read it would've been 5 stars.
I always love reading old books since the writing is so much more interesting than in the books I read from today it makes it so much deeper and more meaningful.
I was kinda disappointed from some parts of it without any meaning to me and I felt like it had nothing to say without these parts that sometimes made it harder to read it would've been 5 stars.
January 29, 2012
I found this book to be tiresome, and a mere shadow of the it's fore-runner. I was quite unable to find any usefull purpose for this book. It was not fit, even to read as a way to put myself to sleep, as I found myself pushing ever onward, to find the end, so as to be done with this book. I find no fault with the writing style, the language used, nor the format. My complaint lies with the subject matter. Others may, and it seems, do, enjoy this book far more than I did.Do not place too much stock in my opinion, for that is all that it is, my opinion.
January 25, 2013
Very mild fun. Good just before sleep reading! Turn of the 20th cent. newspaper writing with more sentimentality than humor. Deservedly less well known than the 3 Men books. I think there's another collection after this one. Don't think I'll search it out.
April 23, 2015
Leggere Jerome è bellissimo perché:
a. sembra di intrattenersi in una simpatica conversazione con l'autore
b. è divertentissimo
c. sotto la comicità traspaiono sempre riflessioni e consigli di vita.
a. sembra di intrattenersi in una simpatica conversazione con l'autore
b. è divertentissimo
c. sotto la comicità traspaiono sempre riflessioni e consigli di vita.
September 7, 2008
Not as good as the first, but ends strong.
Read
December 29, 2008Great humor!
March 16, 2014
A heady mixture of laughter and life truths.. JKJ manages to give advice with a laugh, without sounding too preachy ..
October 4, 2015
I quite enjoyed his mixture of humorous observations and stories as well as his deep exploration of everyday topics of life.
July 28, 2023
Whilst the characteristic wit and ascerbity remain I found this collection of essays and musing rather prolix and laboured; almost as if his editor has asked him to fill so many pages.
Read
June 27, 2017More of Jerome's wry, paradoxical musings on the human condition, often beginning as something close to an observational comedy routine before proceeding gracefully to something like transcendence. A few veer a little too close to homilies, but most are wise without becoming preachy on everything from time and love to rooks and pockets - which last, curiously, seem once to have been standard in dresses, albeit located inconveniently at the rear. Obviously, the attitudes can be of their time, but I think if called on this now Jerome would be among the easiest writers to get up to speed; a recurring theme is the narrowness and partiality of our own little concerns. You might not think him a very similar writer to Robert Anton Wilson, but I feel sure the two would have been able to have a thoroughly productive discussion of reality tunnels.
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