![]() Some of this is awkward and clumsy, with quite a bit of redundant scenes toward the beginning of the novel, especially as he attempts to gain the reader’s sympathy for poor Josiah Crawley, a perpetual curate (and an unlikely protagonist for this, but, as it turns out, the perfect one) who is accused of stealing a check for £20. It feels, in many ways, like the end of an era the close of a century.Īs is usual with Trollope, he takes his time to set the stage but since most of his novels in the Barsetshire series are not as long as this, the last, one, here he takes triple the amount of time: where he normally needs about a hundred-or-so pages to set the preliminary characters into motion, in The Last Chronicle it takes him nearly three-hundred pages to do so. "When I see women kiss, I always think that there is a deep hatred at the bottom of it.”And so the long, arduous, fitful, endearing, maddening, and epic-filled Chronicles of Barsetshire are at an end… and it’s a glorious end that my four-star rating can’t truly reflect, unless you’ve read them all in order and in fairly quick succession. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ”I know very well that men are friends when they step up and shake hands with each other. ![]()
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