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aholeistodig's review against another edition
5.0
"If you ever want to know how ample a thing life can be, become a certified lunatic! You are quite irresponsible for your debts, your crimes, and, not least, your words. It certainly enlarges one's horizon."
lukepadgett's review against another edition
4.0
Classic high Victorian comedy! A very funny story about an amnesiac who is sent to an asylum and escapes using his wits. Very English and very good. Written in looping, long winded english verse that takes a little time to get used to and catch the rhythm, but the gist of the story is derived from the vibrant character descriptions provided by Clouston. A bit predictable, but that's not a problem. Fun weekend light read.
davidwright's review against another edition
4.0
This recently reprinted title from 1899 made me feel like such a blissfully irresponsible reader, which was just the thing right now. The story concerns one Francis Beveridge, who may or may not be insane, but is definitely loony. Bundled off into an asylum in the countryside by his supposed caretakers, he cunningly engineers and escape with the unwitting assistance of a bewildered love interest, and proceeds on a madcap jaunt around London under the name of Bunker, leading in tow his good natured foil the Baron Rudolph von Blitzenberg, whom Bunker (or as the Baron calls him, “Bonker,” – the source of the term “bonkers”) has taken under his wing. Beveridge is clearly a Marxist, though I’m hard put to say whether he favors Harpo or Groucho. On the one hand, there is plenty of physical comedy, and it is not hard to envision what a terrific vehicle for slapstick the long-lost silent film must have been for its star, Leon Errol. There are carriage chases, tomfoolery on skates, bizarre ballroom antics, a funny anarchist bit at a train station, and lots of daft flourishes as Beveridge smashes top hats, steals food, and generally runs rampant. But he’s also very quick with droll, verbal nonsense, running rings around his interlocutors and talking his way into and out of anything, and a hellcat with the ladies. The whole thing is light as a feather with the flimsiest of farcical plots, but infused with a brazing anarchic zaniness that cocks a snook at all pretense and seriousness. My laughter was gentle, but I never stopped smiling. (There’s an odd bit in Jonathan Ames’ rambling introduction to the new edition in which he talks about an encounter with a lunatic in the very library where I work, which was an added treat for me, anyway.) I’ll end with this charming summation from the book’s 1899 review in Bookseller and Stationer: “…inasmuch as it is now generally recognized that the main value of novels is to give mental relaxation and divert thought from the exhausting work and perplexing problems of life then The Lunatic at Large may claim a special adaptation to this useful purpose. … People who do not want any amusement or who think it a sin to laugh had better avoid reading this book.” P.G. Wodehouse fans, take note.
thecommonswings's review against another edition
4.0
As Hugh Greene says in the introduction, this feels far more Edwardian than Victorian and is especially like a prototype for Wodehouse: there’s something of the Ukridge to Welsh and you can imagine him easily coming up with a ludicrously bad idea like this for a friend as credulous as Twidell. And the lunatic and the Baron’s dance around the capital and beyond, in and out of high society, is definitely the kind of caper Wodehouse would develop with a lot more plotting and structure and wit.
Not that this isn’t funny - Clouston has a real zip and liveliness to his writing and there’s some beautiful turns of phrase - because it’s incredibly funny in places: no, what’s fascinating is how much Clouston leans into the idea that Bunker/ Beveridge etc is actually a genuine and proper lunatic, albeit one who in one of the loveliest sections of the book kind of humanises himself to the Baron (who’s a joy, a really genuinely lovely character) in a really unexpected way. Clouston teases a romantic plot which would be very awkward to get away with, but wisely dashes that at the last minute. No, he’s very upfront that our titular lunatic is in fact utterly mad, just very charismatically and pleasantly so. There’s a real anarchism and amorality to Bunker/ Beveridge which is sometimes incredibly shocking and not a little dangerous. That Clouston happily leans into the danger is what makes the book so good, taking what would’ve otherwise been a delightful minor comic romp and adding a palpable danger to it
Not that this isn’t funny - Clouston has a real zip and liveliness to his writing and there’s some beautiful turns of phrase - because it’s incredibly funny in places: no, what’s fascinating is how much Clouston leans into the idea that Bunker/ Beveridge etc is actually a genuine and proper lunatic, albeit one who in one of the loveliest sections of the book kind of humanises himself to the Baron (who’s a joy, a really genuinely lovely character) in a really unexpected way. Clouston teases a romantic plot which would be very awkward to get away with, but wisely dashes that at the last minute. No, he’s very upfront that our titular lunatic is in fact utterly mad, just very charismatically and pleasantly so. There’s a real anarchism and amorality to Bunker/ Beveridge which is sometimes incredibly shocking and not a little dangerous. That Clouston happily leans into the danger is what makes the book so good, taking what would’ve otherwise been a delightful minor comic romp and adding a palpable danger to it
keef's review
4.0
The introduction-- by Jonathan Ames-- puts Mr. Clouster between George Bernard Shaw and P. G. Wodehouse. It's part of the Collins library-- so how could I pass that up? It's proving hard to get into.
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