Butler's stodgily paced and, at times, slow moving novel is perhaps less compelling now that it once was; yet still presents an interesting picture of the paradoxes and hypocrises of Victorian society. Butler does not, as once reviewer claims, employ the "straw man" to defame Christianity. What the author does (and sadly that reviewer seems to have missed it) is demonstrate Christianity's place in justifying elite conceptions of their own purity and morality. Ernest Pontifex's quasi-puritan parents believe themselves to be the very picture of piety - when in actuality they are emotionally cruel and questionably Christian-like towards their own kin. Really, these characters, who are so imbued by their own sense of righteousness to ably examine their own lives, are a metaphor for all of Victorian society. Perhaps this metaphoric critique, no doubt very biting in its time, has lost its edge in a time of less subtle criticism. Still, worth the time to read if you're interested in the changes in both English society (and self-image) and modern literature at the turn of the century. Usually classified as a "modern" novel, it more aptly lies somewhere in between.

The Way of All Flesh covers six generations of strife in the Pontifex family, and spans a period from 1750 to 1880. However, the bulk of the story concerns the life of Ernest Pontifex, from about age 5 up to age 28, and describes his unsatisfactory relations with his parents, his school, his church, his wife, and his friends. Sometimes we feel sorry for Ernest, because many of his problems are caused by unbelievably cruel or thoughtless people, and sometimes we're furious with him, because he himself is the author of at least half of his troubles, but either way his misfortunes make him stronger and move him steadily along the path to maturity. Throughout, the book remains an easy read, although the writing is very witty and often rewards close examination.

Even today, 100 years after the book's publication, a reader finds many things to identify with. Anyone who felt unjustly treated by his or her parents or teachers will find much to sympathize with here. Anyone who has wrestled with the conflict between Reason and Faith will find much to think about here. Given how much change the last century has seen, it's surprising how many of the issues still seem fresh and relevant, and the book definitely makes you think about them. It is easy to see how many people have described reading The Way of All Flesh as a turning point in their lives.

A point worth keeping in mind: the characters are all described from Ernest's point of view. Several clues tell us that Ernest exaggerates the cruelty of various characters - some of whom seem evil beyond belief, and I think it's quite clear that, at these points, we're supposed to smile at Ernest - not shake our heads at the author. This is most obvious with Ernest's schoolmaster, Dr. Skinner, whom Ernest consistently sees as a pompous fool, but who we also know is very popular with the best students, and who shows other signs of being a much better man than Ernest believes him to be.

The footnotes in my edition (Penguin Classics 1986) are very skimpy, focusing on comparing elements from Ernest's fictional life to Samuel Butler's real one. The failure of the notes to translate passages in French or Latin, or to explain very contemporary references, is inexcusable. (E.g. but for the recent controversy over his Beatification, we'd have no clue that "Pio Nono" was Pope Pius IX.) Hoggart's introduction (1966) is decent but a bit dated, not having weathered as well as the book itself!

It's a hoot to read the clipped, sullen dismissals of this book by readers from Topeka to Boston. They obviously hate Butler's novel, and for good reason: the mealymouthed, Christian, moneygrubbing Victorian family on which he spits with such accuracy moved west in the course of the twentieth century. It is now only rarely to be found in England; its true home is...Topeka...and Boston...and a thousand other American whited sepulchres. One reviewer whines that this is the "irrelevant" story of "an average middle-class man from an average middle-class family." What an interesting form of "irrelevance"!

In fact, the novel is brilliant and has endured surprisingly well. To see its relevance, all you need do is move its setting 3.000 miles to the West.