Barchester Towers by Anthony TrollopeGuests gathered in the country house. With children and members of household, for two-three summer months, as well as it is accepted in Old England. Tired statesmen (however, too on summer vacation), wise old ladies, gentle mummies, young girls and young gentlemen of a sports view. The English society isn’t capable to pine with boredom as the vigorous spirit is built here in national peculiarity. But the main entertainment, the main bait – the old owner Anthony Trollope.

With a crafty smile, with hilarious gravity, with fascinating edification he will tell to society local gossips. Oh, these local gossips! They are indeed worthy a nightly general sit-round gathering at legs of the old owner. Smoking the tubule, old Trollope tells and tells. Girls have escaped to powder a nose? Subjects become more men’s – about public affairs and career. Men have gone to warm up party in cricket? The story smoothly flows on children and economy. Children have come running? Unostentatious lessons of life are useful to young minds. For girls there is a love-love-love. Reading the book, you see before yourself not only participants of a plot, but also all this company listening to the story by the old owner.

Simple local gossips have captured both them, and me. Gossips can’t but carry away! In Barchester the old bishop and who will be new has died? No, the name appointed is known. But here who will be a bishop? He, his wife or his chaplain? The intrigue is more feasible than Game of Thrones and games of chess. Who will manage to use the first money of the young widow and her son? One with it will be helped by strategic mind, to another the sister representing the gentle girlfriend before the widow. Rivals go a nostril to a nostril. What will help the widow to avoid danger? She has only her naivety and naivety of her too intelligent father. And suddenly it is already a lot of?

How does the arkhidyakonsha cope with the too vigorous husband? What will the Lord award a patient feat of Mrs. Kuiverful, mother of fourteen offsprings with (those that have survived)? The most shrill pages are devoted to parents of these fourteen. “The person assumes, and the Lord wants” to put the epigraph of this book. Fascinating, concerning, sometimes dangerous, sometimes ridiculous human vanity on the structure of the affairs has nothing in common how all, eventually, has settled. And everything was arranged – as well as possible!

The novel final really reminds the final of a children’s lunch, with distribution of candies and the candied prunes.

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