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A review by jenn756
The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell
5.0
Set in the early Edwardian era, at the same time as they were sipping tea at Howard’s End and children were talking to sand-fairies, this is a rare attempt to give voice to the lot of the working man. And its not a comfortable tale either, there is greed, exploitation, corruption and most of all the sheer drudgery of struggling from day to day, week to week on a miserable pittance.
It’s said it won the post-war election for Labour, and you can see why, after the equality of war-time there was desperation not to return back to those days. You might expect a working class novel to be set in one of the mill towns of the North, but it’s not; it’s set in a nondescript town on the south coast, following a group of painter decorators renovating a house. They are a motley group, there is the kind- hearted Philpott, the idealistic Owen suffering from consumption, the pitiful apprentice boy and the conniving foreman determined to keep his place. Tressell reserves the main venom of his ire to the working class who have (as he sees it) the opportunity for change in their own hands but they won’t take it. They are too driven by their daily concerns to see the bigger picture and too easily fooled by rhetoric of the ruling classes.
In many ways Tressell was naive – of course it was written before the fiasco which became Communist Russia, but then again the basic message is still there. If there was more equality and a fairer society we’d all be happier. We’re still fooled by simplistic rhetoric, and there is still a drive for more and more exploitation, never mind its global now instead of only national.
I like the book because really there is so little written from the perspective of common people during that period, you would think they were all unthinking servants instead of the bulk of the population. Even the likes of Hardy were outsiders looking in. What was it like to work outside for 8 hours in the rain digging out drains or dragging a cart laden with tools? And the slow impact on youth and health, premature aging and final years spent in the workhouse.
It’s not all misery, there is a lot of humour, especially the day trip out to a pub. And the characters are not without faults. My only criticism is it goes on way to long – it could have done with some sharp editing which could have reduced the length without impacting on the message.
Very sad Tressell never lived to see the success of his novel. In his own lifetime it was rejected and he died prematurely from consumption. Like his characters, he could hardly have been described as a perfect man, but this book really provides a voice where there was none to be had.
It’s said it won the post-war election for Labour, and you can see why, after the equality of war-time there was desperation not to return back to those days. You might expect a working class novel to be set in one of the mill towns of the North, but it’s not; it’s set in a nondescript town on the south coast, following a group of painter decorators renovating a house. They are a motley group, there is the kind- hearted Philpott, the idealistic Owen suffering from consumption, the pitiful apprentice boy and the conniving foreman determined to keep his place. Tressell reserves the main venom of his ire to the working class who have (as he sees it) the opportunity for change in their own hands but they won’t take it. They are too driven by their daily concerns to see the bigger picture and too easily fooled by rhetoric of the ruling classes.
In many ways Tressell was naive – of course it was written before the fiasco which became Communist Russia, but then again the basic message is still there. If there was more equality and a fairer society we’d all be happier. We’re still fooled by simplistic rhetoric, and there is still a drive for more and more exploitation, never mind its global now instead of only national.
I like the book because really there is so little written from the perspective of common people during that period, you would think they were all unthinking servants instead of the bulk of the population. Even the likes of Hardy were outsiders looking in. What was it like to work outside for 8 hours in the rain digging out drains or dragging a cart laden with tools? And the slow impact on youth and health, premature aging and final years spent in the workhouse.
It’s not all misery, there is a lot of humour, especially the day trip out to a pub. And the characters are not without faults. My only criticism is it goes on way to long – it could have done with some sharp editing which could have reduced the length without impacting on the message.
Very sad Tressell never lived to see the success of his novel. In his own lifetime it was rejected and he died prematurely from consumption. Like his characters, he could hardly have been described as a perfect man, but this book really provides a voice where there was none to be had.