I laughed so hard at parts of this that my stomach hurt. The self-important narrator, oblivious to his own inconsistencies and nonsense, is a hoot -- to say nothing of the dog. Veddy veddy British, and a complete delight from start to finish.

Enjoyed this one so much!!!

Some fun, some tears, some poetry and some second hand embarrassment.

The first chapter made me burst out laughing so hard. If you are in the medical line and know similar people, you will know what I mean.

And I knew I won't recover from it unless I read the entire book!

The characters are so damn funny.
It's the monologues that's like no book that would come out would ever achieve.

The writing! It's the writing that made it so fun and fast paced to read.

I don't know what I have been doing all this time staring at the paperback for more than 3 years. We have been staring at each other a lot this entire time. And now I know why!

It's the story of three adult men who are tired, overworked and looking for some time off together.

The cheese (mis) adventure, the weather forecast monologue, the train platform dilemma, the new places (oh!), the bickering over their daily routines, the nerd kid story, the characters getting lost and directionless now and then, Harris' comic songs, the boat struggles, the tea and meal monologues, George overthinking all the time, the Henry VIIIth thing, the mustard necessity, the ghost story, dialogues between the cat and Montmorency, when Harris and the pie disappear, the potato peeling scene, the swan battle, the punting, a dead body (?), the big trout fishing story, that photographer, that clever boy and the end. Enjoy!

One of the characters is a hypochondriac. Overdiagnosing himself with all the information on diseases. (I don't want to know what would happen if he had internet access.)

Love the lyrical writing in between. Otherwise it's just the chaotic adult characters going bonkers and being dramatic for (literally) EVERYTHING.

The only way to enjoy this book is not to think too much while reading it. You will be able to enjoy it a lot more that way!

The book has some pretty serious parts which I would want you to take your time. Some parts are heavy and most parts are satirical. But well, take your time while reading this book. You will enjoy their adventure more.

Vietomis žvengiau balsu, vietomis kikenau, bet šypsena tai tikrai išsilaiko per visą skaitymą. Žvaigždutę numušiau dėl to, kad kai kurie vietų aprašymai čiuuuutačkį prailgo, o tokių bajerių, kaip sūrio istorija, komiškų dainelių istorija ar daiktų dėjimosi istorija pasirodė šiek tiek per mažai. Ir šiaip pirmoji knygos dalis buvo tvirtesnė, antroji jau tokia prabėgomis, lyg truputį be pabaigos. Apart to, knygos bendražmogiškumas taip stipriai išjaustas, kad atrodo, kad jei buvo aktuali tiek metų, bus aktuali ir dar tiek pat - žmonės gi net nesikeičia.

O šiaip labai greitas skaitinys, tobulai pakėlęs nuotaiką į sesijos tarpus, pailsinęs galvą ir tiesiog priminęs, kaip dievinu britišką humorą. Rekomenduoju iš visos širdies.

Three Men in a Boat is a completely and absolutely delightful waste of time. I must have bookmarked at least twenty hilarious passages to go back and read again for a last chuckle before returning to the library (I may subject you to some of them if the mood hits me before I wind this up). I listened and then read so I could enjoy the nonsense dialogue (both verbal and literary) a second time. Published in 1889 this book is in the Public Domain and available for free download from the Gutenberg Project and probably elsewhere. It is also available on Kindle Unlimited. There are several audio versions, probably all good, but I chose the narration by Hugh Laurie and the delivery was perfect!

The (very lean) plot: Three idle young men (Jerome, George, and Harrison), who seemingly have nothing better to do with their time than to ramble reflectively for hours regarding their hypochondriasis ailments and on every other moronic thought that pops into their heads, decided that although a sea voyage might benefit their health. They did not have the time to do so - but, they mused, wouldn’t it be lovely to book a boat and take a fortnight boat-ride holiday of canals and locks on the river Thames? Although this does sound sublime, these three young swells and their dog Montmorency, are not taking a barge cruise but rather more like a camping trip along the Thames and since they are adept at absolutely nothing but sloth they are in for surprising adventures (surprising to them but not to the reader). The plot here is nothing more than a vehicle for the comical ruminations of Jerome.

Before setting out, the three of them carefully planned – down to the last detail – what they needed to prepare for their trip. If this was today, it would probably read like one of my camping trip lists starting with the essentials: electronics and chargers, blow-up mattress and snuggly bedclothes, wet-wipes, tissues, toilet paper, Tupperware laden food supply, plastic dinner service (shame on me), wine, flashlights, and at least half a dozen family card games. But since it was 1889 the prep and carriage was a lot more cumbersome and there are a few hilarious descriptions of their packing.

n  “…chaos reigned… and then there remained the hampers to do. They began in a light-hearted spirit, and I looked at the piles of plates and cups, and kettles, and bottles and jars, and pies, and stoves, and cakes, and tomatoes, &c., and felt that the thing would soon become exciting.It did. They started with breaking a cup. That was the first thing they did. They did that just to show you what they could do, and to get you interested. Then Harris packed the strawberry jam on top of a tomato and squashed it, and they had to pick out the tomato with a teaspoon. And then it was George’s turn, and he trod on the butter…and they stepped on things, and put things behind them, and then couldn’t find them when they wanted them; and they packed the pies at the bottom, and put heavy things on top, and smashed the pies in. They upset salt over everything, and as for the butter! I never saw two men do more with one-and-twopence worth of butter in my whole life than they did (they obviously never watched Last Tango in Paris). After George had got it off his slipper, they tried to put it in the kettle. It wouldn’t go in, and what was in wouldn’t come out. They did scrape it out at last, and put it down on a chair, and Harris sat on it, and it stuck to him, and they went looking for it all over the room.”n

Of course, they forgot to pack a can opener and there is also a funny passage describing their attempts to get at the pineapple inside a tin. (Okay, I can't resist, i'm still chuckling so I'm adding the scene below:)

n  "It cast a gloom over the boat, there being no mustard. We ate our beef in silence. Existence seemed hollow and uninteresting…. George drew out a tin of pine-apple from the bottom of the hamper, and rolled it into the middle of the boat, we felt that life was worth living after all…Then we looked for the knife to open the tin with. We turned out everything in the hamper. We turned out the bags. We pulled up the boards at the bottom of the boat. We took everything out on to the bank and shook it. There was no tin-opener to be found...Then Harris tried to open the tin with a pocket-knife, and broke the knife and cut himself badly; and George tried a pair of scissors, and the scissors flew up, and nearly put his eye out. While they were dressing their wounds, I tried to make a hole in the thing with the spiky end of the hitcher, and the hitcher slipped and jerked me out between the boat and the bank into two feet of muddy water, and the tin rolled over, uninjured, and broke a teacup….Harris went up into a field and got a big sharp stone, and I went back into the boat and brought out the mast, and George held the tin and Harris held the sharp end of his stone against the top of it…It was George’s straw hat that saved his life that day…Harris got off with merely a flesh wound…We beat it out flat; we beat it back square; we battered it into every form known to geometry—but we could not make a hole in it. Then George went at it, and knocked it into a shape, so strange, so weird, so unearthly in its wild hideousness, that he got frightened and threw away the mast. Then we all three sat round it on the grass and looked at it."n

They had a tarp cover of sorts and frame to protect them from the rain (and there was plenty of it)…their struggle to construct the covering had me giggling (too bad they couldn’t hop over to the convenience store at the gas station near my house – they could have bought a tent that pops open to a three room villa for $20)!

On their sightseeing tour they were lost in a maze for a few hours with about twenty other people who were lost inside including the staff member who came in to help them find their way out.

One night, after mooring the boat and heading into the town for a pub, on the way back, it was raining so hard they decided to spend the night in town but there were no rooms to be let. They considered punching a policeman but then they mused that the policemen might just punch them back instead of hauling them in to spend the night in jail.

By the end of he story Jerome was pooped…he felt he had been put upon and that the others should share in the work (his rationale):

n  “I said I thought Harris would have been showing a more proper spirit if he had suggested that he and George should work, and let me rest a bit. It seemed to me that I was doing more than my fair share of the work on this trip, and I was beginning to feel strongly on the subject. It always does seem to me that I am doing more work than I should do. It is not that I object to the work, mind you; I like work: it fascinates me. I can sit and look at it for hours. I love to keep it by me: the idea of getting rid of it nearly breaks my heart. You cannot give me too much work; to accumulate work has almost become a passion with me: my study is so full of it now, that there is hardly an inch of room for anymore. I shall have to throw out a wing soon. And I am careful of my work, too. Why, some of the work that I have by me now has been in my possession for years and years, and there isn’t a finger-mark on it. I take a great pride in my work; I take it down now and then and dust it. No man keeps his work in a better state of preservation than I do….”n

To be honest, I had never heard of Jerome K. Jerome, before reading a review of this book by GR Friend Peter. I was sure it must be a pen-name for Oscar Wilde, because it was Wilde who popped into my head as soon as the humorous rambling began. Jerome K. Jerome was in fact a writer of the same period and may have traveled the same literary circles, but they do not appear to have been friends. I read a little blurb on the internet suggesting that it might even have been Jerome who outed Wilde in one of the former’s publications, but the latter was hardly discreet.

This is set in 19th Century London where three men and a dog go on a boat trip. It was supposed to be a travel book but became a laugh-riot instead.

The writing was brilliant and I found myself laughing a lot. There isn't exactly a plot but it is full of heart-warming, some awkward and funny bits. I loved it.

4 stars

A book I've read a long time ago and I didn't like, mostly because (I've thought..) it wasn't a book for teenagers. Forty years after, grown up and with some more patience, the result is sadly the same. The style is a pastiche of Mark Twain, O. Henry and later Jaroslav Hasek' Svejk, but their characters have humor or wisdom, if not both of them. Jerome's ones are clumsy, malignant and grudge-bearing, their stupidity being shown in their "adventure" with the pineapple can or the potatoes peeling, not to say more.
Perhaps you should be an English native, in order to enjoy more the spirit of the novel, as Jerome's help in this direction is sometimes more than minimal. One of the best examples is Harris and his comic songs: if you are able to produce even the faintest smile reading his happening it means your sense of humor is gigantic. Sadly (or perhaps not) that's not my case...

The story starts off with a man feeling out of sorts with his London life and leafing through a medical dictionary. Quickly he realises that he is suffering from every single aliment described - with the exception of washerwoman's elbow. He rushes off to see the doctor who listens to his story and prescribes him a simple holiday with a pork chop and two pints of beer daily for dinner.

So begins a classic of southern English humour. What strikes me how contemporary the basic set up still feels. An indefinable wrongness and dissatisfaction with daily life, the Doctor in this case acting not as a medical expert but as an embodiment of wisdom. The solution - being forced to appreciate the basic pleasures of life, which as the story unfolds are more than just pork chops and beer  I hasten to add to reassure those who are not keen on either  but more generally an awareness of everyday absurdity.

The journey of three men and a dog in a boat along the Thames prides a basic framework from which all kinds of comic set pieces can be hung. Rather than go into those struggles with a recalcitrant boat and the fishermen's delight in spinning sagas I'll tell a different story that I heard at a funeral some years ago. The speaker was remembering his deceased friend who we were laying to rest that day and how when they were all young they decided in the spirit of Three Men in a Boat to travel along the Thames (although admittedly without a dog). Anyhow after a particularly long and tiring day they came ashore by a pub, a very fancy and particular looking establishment to be sure, and one of them went in and asked the barman for three pints of beer.

With more than a slight sneer the barman said "we don't serve pints here".
To which the traveller in all innocence replied "oh, well, in that case can I have six halves please".

As it happens in case anybody thinks such stories are too remote from reality to be possibly true I'll add one of my own. With a colleague at the end of a working day we stopped at a public house, my colleague would invariably have a pint of a very commercial lager which I shall forbear to advertise, while I would apparently look for the meaning of life and so would happen on what ever suggested itself to me and so I asked for beer x ' oh ' quoth the young serving lad 'such beer is too terribly strong, we only serve it by halves', 'fine, I'll have two halves and a pint glass, then' to which request the lad complied. As perhaps you can imagine, the absurdities added most decidedly to the enjoyment of the drink.

It was suggested that I read this prior to reading Connie Willis' To Say Nothing of the Dog. This is an amusing read. Some sections evoke out-loud chuckles even over 100 years after the original writing. This comedy of 3 men and a dog taking a river trip on the "sacred Thames", so-called, has lasted quite well. There are a few sections that seemed to labor but far more that hit their marks well. Now I will move on to Willis' book.

Zasiadłam raz jeszcze do lektury "Trzech panów". Dobra wiadomość jest taka, że powieść Jerome'a wciąż pozostaje jednym z moich ulubionych klasyków. Jestem prostym człowiekiem - gdy ktoś podaje mi na tacy typowy angielski humor, parskam bez opamiętania.
Mimo upływu lat nadal nie zapałałam sympatią do warstwy historycznej. Nie oznacza to jednak, że przymykam na nią oko. Ogromnie doceniam, jak zręcznie autor połączył andegdoty prostych turystów-hipochondryków ze sferą opowiastek w całości poświęconych możnym.

Niedawno odkryłam, że powieść ma swoją kontynuację - już zacieram rączki.

Dnevnik o putovanju tri prijatelja i jednog psa po Temzi je potpuno rasterećujuće djelo bez posebne akcije i uzbuđenja, ali djelo koje me u više navrata od srca nasmijalo, te stoga 4⭐️ za četiri putnika na čamcu!

I have had Jerome's books in my shelf for a long time, and somehow never got to them - this is the first I have read. It is one of those famous books everyone seems to have read - I don't think it receives rave reviews - but it has a sort of appeal to most.

Published in 1889, it survives aging well and while of course very dated, it is still very readable. There are small elements of the language which are archaic and not in common use now, but not such that it would hinder the reader.

For me, the highlight of the book is the dog - Montmorency.

n  Montmorency's ambition in life, is to get in the way and be sworn at. If he can squirm in anywhere where he particularly is not wanted, and be a perfect nuisance, and make people mad, and have things thrown at his head, then he feels his day has not been wasted.
To get somebody to stumble over him, and curse him steadily for an hour, is his highest aim and object; and, when he has succeeded in accomplishing this, his conceit becomes quite unbearable.n

Other memorable interludes are Montmorency and the water rat - his contribution for the Irish stew; Montmorency and the kettle episode; and generally Montmorency's many fights and complications.

But generally, this is story of a short, two week, voyage up the Thames of Jerome, Harris and George (not to forget the fox terrier), but it is more digressions and asides than it is voyage. From Kingston to Oxford, the voyage proceeds, but literally every chapter contains side stories and analysis of everything imaginable from literary works to medical complaints, from weather forecasts to local history and sights.

As to whether it is fiction or non-fiction, you would have to consider that while Jerome and his friends made a number of river trips between them, this one was most likely a literary amalgamation of those and all his random side stories, although another reviewer plotted the route, the stops and the sites and it looked quite legitimate, so perhaps...

I understand that Hugh Laurie narratives an audiobook version - which I can imagine works very well with this content. For me Jerome has the voice and mannerisms of Hugh Laurie.

One quote to finish:

n  Among folk too constitutionally weak, or too constitutionally lazy, whichever ti may be, to relish up-stream work, it is a common practice to get a boat at Oxford, and row down. For the energetic, however, the upstream journey is certainly to be preferred. It does not seem good to be always going with the current. There is more satisfaction in squaring one's back, and fighting against it, and winning one's way forward in spite of it - at least, so I feel, when Harris and George are sculling, and I am steering.n

4 stars

Ha a történetet nézzük, ez a könyv: bakfitty. Három ember (sőt! nem is ember: angol!!!) elmegy csónakkirándulni a Temzére, és még egy csoffadt óriáskrokodil se támadja meg őket. Mondjuk erre nincs is szükség, mert okoznak önmaguknak annyi bajt, mint egy óriáskrokodil. Szóval ez egy ilyen sitcom-regény, ahol a humor két forrásból táplálkozik:
1.) A komikus karakterekből, akik komikus helyzetekbe keverik magukat. Tegyük hozzá, nem annyira három kidolgozott karaktert látunk, akik jól láthatóan különböznek egymástól, hanem egyetlen típus (a szerencsétlen, puhány úrigyerek) három példányát*. Mindhárman bámulatos éleslátással képesek megfogalmazni, a többiekkel mi a gond, de valamiért ez az éleslátás saját magukkal kapcsolatban nem működik. Kicsit hülyőkék, na. És hát bűnös élvezet olyanokról olvasni, akik hülyébbek még nálunk is.
2.) A nyelvből. Az egész kötet azért tudott friss maradni az eltelt bő száz év ellenére, mert Jerome valami nagyon eleven, mozgékony nyelvet használ. Ami egyfelől önmagában alkalmas arra, hogy elbűvölővé tegye azokat a finom tájleírásokat, amelyekből bőven akad itt - az embernek kedve szottyan felkerekedni, és hajózni egyet a Temzén, lehetőleg kompetensebb útitársakkal, és lehetőleg a XIX. század második felében. Emellett pedig ez a nyelv természetesen a humorhoz is hozzátesz, élményszerű például, ahogy Jerome az elbeszélő lírai elszállásait egy csavarral komikussá alakítja át.

Igazi feelgood-könyv. Derűs kötet borús napokra.

* Ne hagyjuk ki a negyedik szereplőt, a kutyát se. Akinek amúgy a legegyénibb karaktervonások jutottak az egész bandából.