Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog) by Jerome K. Jerome

Reviewed by Sarah
librivox recording here
Start Date: July 28th ish
Finish Date: August 3rd
Star Rating: 7 stars, because its is hilarious despite its plotlessness
"Movie" Rating: PG

It is a most extraordinary thing, but I never read a patent medicine
advertisement without being impelled to the conclusion that I am
suffering from the particular disease therein dealt with in its most
virulent form. The diagnosis seems in every case to correspond exactly
with all the sensations that I have ever felt.

I remember going to the British Museum one day to read up the treatment
for some slight ailment of which I had a touch - hay fever, I fancy it
was. I got down the book, and read all I came to read; and then, in an
unthinking moment, I idly turned the leaves, and began to indolently
study diseases, generally. I forget which was the first distemper I
plunged into - some fearful, devastating scourge, I know - and, before I
had glanced half down the list of "premonitory symptoms," it was borne in
upon me that I had fairly got it.

I sat for awhile, frozen with horror; and then, in the listlessness of
despair, I again turned over the pages. I came to typhoid fever - read
the symptoms - discovered that I had typhoid fever, must have had it for
months without knowing it - wondered what else I had got; turned up St.
Vitus's Dance - found, as I expected, that I had that too, - began to get
interested in my case, and determined to sift it to the bottom, and so
started alphabetically - read up ague, and learnt that I was sickening
for it, and that the acute stage would commence in about another
fortnight. Bright's disease, I was relieved to find, I had only in a
modified form, and, so far as that was concerned, I might live for years.
Cholera I had, with severe complications; and diphtheria I seemed to have
been born with. I plodded conscientiously through the twenty-six
letters, and the only malady I could conclude I had not got was
housemaid's knee.

And so the book continues.

In case you were wondering,
this book is hilarious. That is, except for the parts which aren't. But, fortunately or unfortunately (however you see it) I didn't really hear those parts. Since I listen to these while working, my brain chooses whether or not to listen to them subconciously. Which was a bit strange for listening to this book. When he went off on one of his funny anecdotes my brain would tune in as usual, and I would laugh and co-workers would only glance over (by now, they're used to the Random Laughter). And then he would move on, and Wax Verbose, Poetical and/or Sentimental, and usually I would find myself tuning back in once he got back to one of his funny stories without even realizing that I hadn't really caught most of what he'd been saying--something about the Magna Carta, maybe? --Well, anyway, I find that I don't really have much desire to complain of my brains awesome auto-editing capabilities.

I'd really love to see someone do this as a solo project--its not incredibly long, and it is a really fun book. I'd do it myself, but 1) I really think I man should read it and 2) I'd only want to do the funny stories, because I know I like those, while I really have no idea of my opinion on the poetical/sentimental bits. Apparently my brain didn't think them particularly engaging.

I will admit to skipping one of the chapters. The readers accent was so strange and unfamiliar that there was no way for me to understand what was being said without focusing on it intently, which would require me to abandon my work, which of course was not an option. By that time fully aware of the plotlessness of the book, I didn't really feel all that guilty in skipping. I don't even remember which chapter it was.