This book contains a collection of ironically satirical essays. Satire is not my favorite form of humor, so it took me a few essays to get "into the swing" of the book, but I can say that once I came around to the appropriate frame of reference, I quite enjoyed the book. When reading this book, you must also remember that it was originally published in 1910; the humorous themes of the essays have aged well, but some of the settings have not.

As I read the essays, I kept having the nagging thought that the author's style reminded me of a contemporary author. Once I reached the "How to Make a Million Dollars" essay, it hit me: I would not hesitate to call Stephen Leacock the Dave Barry (Miami columnist and author) of the early 1900s. They both have the same sort of perverse logic to their points of view. Thus, if you can picture Dave Barry writing in the early 1900s, you can get some idea of what reading this book of essays would be like.

This is for those who love that dry English humor. I love this book! It mocks so beautifuly stupidities, naivete, and human anxietes. If you like slap stick humor, please look somewhere else.

Stephen Leacock was a Canadian author who wrote his works with an optimistic yet realistic view of life. His light-hearted, bubbly diction impressed me all the way through the novel. Each short story was unique and had true-to-life situations and entertaining characters to whom readers of all ages can relate. His stories are full of good advice for everyone from the socially elite, eager-to-please teenager to the hard-working businessman to the overprotective father. Leacock exaggerates in many of his sketches, but that aspect of each story fits in perfectly with the separate ideas he presents. I recommend this novel to anyone who agrees that life should be lived to the absolute fullest, taking all chances and having a good time. As Stephen Leacock says, "Eat what you want. Eat lots of it. Yes, eat too much of it. Eat till you can just stagger across the room with it and prop it up against the sofa." (Leacock Literary 31)

By "High" Spirits in the title, Davies' is referring to the fact that the ghosts in these stories are most often of lofty earthly lineage. They are "highly" extracted. In these 18 stories we meet the ghosts of King George the V and VI of Great Britain, Queen Victoria, Sir John A. MacDonald, Saint George of Cappadocia, William Lyon Mackenzie King, and John Strachan (founder of Massey College) to name but a few. These are no ordinary run-of-the-mill random ghosts, and these are not "scary" ghost stories. They are moreso HUMOROUS and were meant originally to entertain guests at the annual Gaudy Nights held at Massey College when Davies was Master there.

While these stories are very well-done (original and highly inventive) and no doubt caused quite a stir in their time, to read them now seems quite dated. The inferences and specific allusions to college life are lost on the modern reader who may not have a conversational grasp of Canadian political history, or a knowledge of the finer points of Massey College's quadrangles and inner sanctums. All in all, these stories are best TOLD to their original hearers... a few times I had the sense that I would have liked to have been in attendence as Davies' recited these to his guests. But to sit and read them nowadays?... I don't know, at the end of each story I sort of felt like... "so what?" I am a big fan of Davies' writing, but this is not a book I would highly recommend to anyone getting to know his work.

The late Robertson Davies is perhaps best known for his works of heady literature. Some of the most well-known works by him are "Fifth Business", "The Manticore", "What's Bred in the Bone" and "Murther and Walking Spirits." Most readers of Davies will know him first and foremost as an author and second as a scholar of Elizabethan theatre; "Shakespeare's Boy Actors" is but one of his more academic works on the subject.

However, most Americans do not know of the years that Davies was the Master of Massey College at the University of Toronto in Canada. While there, it became his habit to tell a ghost story every year for the college's Christmas staff party. Thirteen of these ghostly (yet often quite hysterical stories) are contained here. Beginning with the first, "Revelation from a Smoky Fire", in which Davies is visited by an apparition who seems to be from the college's FUTURE, and moving on through "The Ugly Spectre of Sexism" and "The Pit Whence Ye Are Digged", these ghost tales are far less horrific and spooky than they are highly amusing. For example, when dealing with the sudden appearance of what is most likely a ghost that has appeared in his own office and, furthermore, assumes that Davies has come down the chimney, he writes, "I grasped immediately the sort of man I was dealing with. This was a madman! It is one of my cardinal rules to always humor madmen. It comes second nature to me. I do it several times each day."

These stories, like much of Davies's work, is highly scholarly, with a turn of phrase and vocabulary that often verges on that seen in Victorian English novels. People who have read a great deal, or who have gone to graduate school in the fine arts or for literature, will catch the subtle barbs and digs that Davies directs at the ivory tower nature of academia and even himself as Master of the college. The stories were first intended to be read aloud for an academic audience of professors, so they are meant more to amuse and tickle the wit than to accompany the more traditional Halloween stories or his other novels or scholarly works.

Potential readers should note that there was at one time an audio version of this book published with an introduction by the author with the reading performed by Christopher Plummer. As I understand it, this audio version is currently out of print. This is a dreadful shame because Mr. Plummer gives an exceptional performance of Mr. Davies's work. Also, as mentioned, these stories were intended to be read aloud for a gathering of people on an evening, and what could be better than HEARING these ghostly tales?? If anyone finds themselves enjoying these stories, they would be well advised to track down the audio version!

Canada lost a fine writer, critic, playwright and journalist in 1996 when Mr. Davies passed away. His books are still enjoyed today as much as ever, and for those who are seeking out a less heavy, light and amusing work by him, one simply cannot go wrong with "High Spirits." Highly recommended- by this Davies fan!!

This wonderful collection of ghost stories gives a new view of the macabre and of Davies' view of it. This book combines his scholarly mind with his subtle humour and understanding of human nature. A glorious asset to any lover of ghostly tales.

It is usually a pleasure to sit down to a Robertson Davies work whether it be a novel, a collection of speeches, ghost stories, essays, or newspaper articles. The Merry Heart is a felicitous adddition to the Davies canon, containing his usual eclectic selection of literary topics and sparkling ideas. Each chapter has a few introductory comments (often including excerpts from Davies' diary) by the book's editors that paint the background for each piece. Readers enjoy comparing notes about favorite books and biographical history, so for avid readers, The Merry Heart will be like reading a series of letters from a funny, witty, learned friend about some of those events and books that have shaped his life. This fine 385 page book of 24 chapters is easy to read in bits and pieces, either during a lunch break, before bed, or on a weekend next to the fire. (One note of caution: for those unfamiliar with Davies' worldview, do not be surprised to see elements of gnosticism popping up from time to time.) All in all, this book was a real pleasure to read.

You don't need to be familiar with Robertson Davies' work to enjoy this set of insightful talks and essays about reading, writing, and life in general. This has been my first exposure to his work (a gift from my mother-in-law), and I loved it. I'm now deeply interested in reading his other work. In fact, I bought the Deptford Trilogy, but haven't gotten to read it yet since my wife got ahold of it before I did.

When I read this collection it was as if the old friend was still alive. He is most certainly alive and kicking in this book. The book gives not only his honest view of books, authors and the literary world but also includes yet another ghostly tale of mythological origin. Not only was this an informative read, as most of Davies' work is, it was also a heartfelt pleasure, and continues to be so, again and again and again.

Although I'm not a big theatre fan, I do enjoy reading Robertson Davies. He is one of two writers whose work I will read even when the subject is not up my alley; so when C.S. Lewis writes about Medieval English Literature or Robertson Davies writes about the theatre, I still read them. It brings me great pleasure to experience their writers' craftsmanship and I know I will learn something. (I also know I'm going to enjoy their humor.) Happy Alchemy's subtitle reads, "On the Pleasures of Music and the Theatre", and this work present 33 Davies pieces, including "Lewis Carroll in the Theatre", "Opera for the Man Who Reads Hamlet", "Dickens and Music", "How I Write a Book", and the humorously self-depreciating "My Musical Career." Happy Alchemy shares many fine insights about humanity while also providing many historical and literary lessons for the reader. To read Davies (or Lewis) is to expand one's view of the world.

This is a delightful collection of Davies's thoughts on the theater in all its myriad forms, including opera, melodrama, tragedy, and comedy. Davies has a perfect mix of wit, erudition, and curmudgeonly attitude, and in addition to being a terrific writer, he is an ardent devotee of the stage.

This comes forth in all the pieces, and is further emphasized by excerpts from his "Theater Diary," provided by the editors, his wife and daughter. While some of the pieces are there just for amusement (e.g., a libretto Davies wrote for a children's opera), others are very thought-provoking (such as his "Opera and Humour" talk), and still others are a melding of the two extremese (for instance, his talk on "Lewis Carroll and the Theater").

Some of the pieces repeat themselves, as they are based on talks he gave and pieces he wrote throughout his life, and obviously certain comments which are redundant to the reader would no doubt have been fresh to the audience.

All in all, I recommend this book very highly, for anyone with an interest in theater, or a love of Davies. I would have liked more of his thoughts about theater and less of things like his libretto (though I did find that amusing), as it felt more like that was included to meet some page count demanded by the publisher. However, this may not have been possible given the material at hand.

What can anyone say about Robertson Davies? He was one of the greatest writers of the 20th century.

The great aspect about Davies' triogies is that each component is a stand alone novel. I read Leaven of Malice and simply enjoyed it! Davies being an editor and publisher, writes with material from experience in the editing buisness. Davies stays true to a Canadian based setting and Canadian characters. He also suggests a dignified proper tone to the book through his diction. It is amusing how these proper characters can act so immature (in their dignified way) and provide so much entertainment to the reader. Davies has the art down of conveying believable characters who do and say outrageous things, and at the same time creates characters that are used in the form of satire. This book is #2 on my list after Fifth Business...this one is a definite read. You will get a lot out of it.

Book 2 of the Salterton Trilogy. Following up on loose ends from Tempest-Tost, and immediately beginning to unravel even more. A rich plot with Dickensian characters and twists (Davies was a great Dickens scholar so no surprise here). A bit deeper than Tempest-Tost, but still obviously an early effort although showing the deft touch with dialogue and character that came to distinguish Davies as a leading novelist.

A Mixture of Frailties tells two complete but entwined stories: one of Sully and his young wife who are burdened by the 'dead hand' of Sully's mother (they must produce a male heir or forfeit a fortune to 'little Miss Nobody, studying Japanese flower-arranging' under the terms of her malevolent will); another of a provincial Canadian girl, Monica, who benefits from the absurd trust established by the will, and makes her way to Europe to learn if she has any talent as an opera singer. Monica has talent, though she often confounds herself in her struggles between filial loyalty to her coarse parents and her innappropriate love for a composer of brilliance but no kindness. In the world of Robertson Davies there are always happy endings. Monica will find her heart, and her future as a singer; Sully and his wife will find a fortune and an heir; a multitude of the sort of people who ought to exist, but somehow never do, will pop up along the way. But the best thing of all? Though Robertson Davies died recently, he left three and two-thirds trilogies which merit reading and re-reading. The man whom The New York Times called "The Canadian Trollope" has left a vastly entertaining and richly humorous collection of novels, essays, and miscellany.

I agree with the previous reviewer who was frustrated with Davies' seemingly random introductions of the recording angels in "Bred In The Bone" and ETA Hoffmnan in "The Lyre of Orpheus" (though not with his estimation of Hoffman as "a 2nd rate composer" !!). After creating absolutely delightful characters as the dog Parlabane, Simon Darcourt and the delicious Maria Theotoky Cornish in "The Rebel Angels," Davies inexplicably disconnects with them violently to focus on others in the following volumes, pushing those who had so forcefully engaged our imaginative sympathies to the background. (Davies follows the same strategy in "The Salterton Trilogy," but there the let down is not so harsh, since we remain, so to speak, in the same neighbourhood.) "What's Bred In The Bone" regained my sympathy after a while, though its breadth and scope is uncharacteristic for Davies: at times, it approaches a thriller done by a second-rate Ken Follett. "The Lyre of Orpheus," however, is unremarkable.

Robertson Davies is one of the most erudite authors you will ever read. The sheer volume of his knowledge staggers me, his use of the English language leaves me green with envy. However, unlike Umberto Eco in "Foucalt's Pendulum" Davies' erudition is used, not to bludgeon the reader into awed submission, but to enrich. Davies' books are primarily great fun, his characters live, his stories grip, his descriptions evoke and his wit lightens. He is always a treat, and is one of those people whose name, whenever I read it, makes me smile.

Buy this trilogy and you will very likely find these three stories among the best you have ever read. If you just buy "What's Bred in the Bone" you will become addicted and have to buy "The Rebel Angels" and "The Lyre of Orpheus" anyway, so save time and effort and buy this trilogy. Then buy the Salterton Trilogy and the Deptford Trilogy and everything else he ever wrote. If you have never read Robertson Davies you have a wonderful treat in store, I envy you.

While my favorite novel by Robertson Davies remains Fifth Business, a book so dazzling it leaves me almost speechless, I feel the three novels of The Cornish Trilogy--The Rebel Angels, What's Bred in the Bone and The Lyre of Orpheus--are more satisfying in the aggregate than The Deptford Trilogy. The middle novel, What's Bred in the Bone, is the lynchpin of the trilogy--the "biography" of Francis Cornish, a wealthy art collector and restorer who in time will be suspected of being an art forger, but who in reality is a great artist of high inward purpose. To remind us of Mark Twain's dictum that a man's true biography is what goes on in his own mind, the book is narrated by the two invisible spirits who served as Cornish's guardians on Earth--the only ones who will ever know the whole truth about him. What's Bred in the Bone is sandwiched in between The Rebel Angels, about mayhem and skulduggery among a group of academics when they inherit the bountiful legacy of the late Francis Cornish, and The Lyre of Orpheus, concerning the convoluted doings when a young musical genius tries to recreate an unfinished opera by E.T.A. Hoffmann. This book features a particularly rollicking gang of characters, including E.T.A. Hoffmann himself speaking from the grave. Davies' style glistens with his trademark scholarship and wit; his Jungian philosophy, deep spirituality and often profound insights into the artistic process make these novels important works of art as well as delightful semi-satiric, semi-fantasy romps. One major complaint I have about Davies is that all his characters tend to sound like erudite, well-settled, middle-aged men--fine for the Rev. Simon Darcourt, but not for Maria Theotoky Cornish, the 23-year-old, half-Gypsy beauty. Also, some of his set pieces simply go on too long, such as the contentious "Arthurian" dinner party thrown by Arthur and Maria Cornish. However, the totality of Davies' gifts is so enormous that I'm willing to forgive him his flaws.

Okay, so the comparison to Mann's work is a bit far fetched, but this book is a Jungian exploration of our main character's consciousness. Thanks to the convention of having Davey recount his story to his shrink, we feel a bit detached and disoriented. There is an element of almost-mysticism and we trace all the paths of Davey's mind and experiences. How did this famous criminal lawyer become such an incorrigible drunk and why does he check himself into Zurich for analysis? Unfortunately I read Fifth Business 4 years ago, so I can't remember any of the story line or comment on the relation of this book to the first. It seems to me though that this book does not depend on the first book in the series. I plan to read World of Wonders next, so I'll have more to say about the relation.

Back to this book -- it's extremely engrossing with penetrating descriptions of all the characters in Davey's life and a curiously detached view of his life. I couldn't put it down, even at the end when the mystical element almost gets out of hand and he literally climbs the mountain and crawls through a primal cave. Even if you don't buy all the Jungian stuff, Davies is such a good and interesting writer that most should enjoy the experience. As a social commentator, he reminds me of Thomas Wolfe. A gripping read.

The life of the protagonist--whom we previously knew just an appendage to his father's colossal persona in Fifth Business--is analyzed. The story has many sockets within sockets and abundant psychological theory. Robertson Davies is so artful sn author that the information on archetypes never feels as though it came out of an encyclopedia. Rather, it is essential to the character's trajectory. Highly recommended. Makes me proud to be a Canadian!

The story is everything with Davies books. He captured me with the tale of David Staunton, who is only a minor character in Fifth Business.

As with Dunstan Ramsay, the narrator of the first book of the Deptford Trilogy, David Staunton is very much a character who needs to be brought back into balance from an extreme psyche. The book explores his eccentric character through Jungian psychology. Since Davies daugther is a Jungian psychologist, he no doubt used her as a resource in compiling the profile of Staunton.

I really find with Davies books, I find out more about myself, and new ways to view myself, through the characters that he writes about. Perhaps that is why I enjoy them so much.

This is my first encounter with Robertson Davies. I had never heard of him, and would not have read him if he weren't noted in the reader's list of the Modern Library's top 100 novels. And how unfortunate it would have been had I not picked up this book!

The Cunning Man is an examination of the life of a doctor, told by himself. Asked to recall the story of the strange death of Father Ninian Hobbes which he witnessed, he recounts his past; his childhood, his schooling, the work of his profession, the influences that have made him who he is. In doing so, he shares with us his observations on the nature of life, love, art, illness, friendship, and many other things. Davies lets us have a picture of life, complete with accomplishments and disappointments, dreams and dreams undone, and makes it real and interesting and intelligent. I can understand the appeal he has for his fans and I will be reading more of Davies' books soon.

Nobody who has not discovered Robertson Davies could possibly understand the almost fanatical devotion of his fans. As one reviewer put it, he is the kind of writer who makes you pester your friends to read him, so that they may share the joy. The Cunning Man was Davies's last novel and, as might be expected, he ended his life with a bravura piece of literary virtuosity. Like his central character, Dr Jonathan Hullah, Davies is a wise old man, looking back on what must have been an extraordinary life, sharing some of the delights and vexations with his audience. Sometimes sad, sometimes hilariously funny (try the annual bad breath competition - if you don't laugh you are probably certifiably dead), always accomplished and almost obscenely knowledgable, this is one of the most satisfying books you are likely to read in some time.

Robertson Davies remains far and away my favorite novelist. After reading this book, I was sorry that he was no longer around to continue putting out such entertaining work. Some people, even otherwise enthusiastic Davies fans, don't care much for this book. As a physician, perhaps this biased me in the book's favor, but I thought this the most enjoyable book I read in 2000. I've read all of Davies novels and would rank this high among them. The story never sagged, the characters were of the usual fascinating Davies' variety, and his humor had me laughing aloud again and again.

Davies' narrator is Dr. Jonathan Hullah, a physician of unusual diagnostic skills and adroit healing powers. He is known as the cunning man, a term hearkening back to English village life in which a sort of village know-all could do a little of everything, from setting broken bones to doctoring horses. He was the wizard of folk tradition, the cunning man. The Cunning Man is Dr. Hullah's fascinating reminiscence of life, from boyhood apprenticeship with an old Indian healer to his service in the medical corps during World War II, then on to his unusual medical practice (which included such orthodox measures as having his patients strip off their clothes and lay on an exam table while he sniffed them.) Hullah narrates this while at the same time conducting a search into the mysterious death of his parish priest while saying mass. This combination memoir/mystery novel was, as I said earlier, the most pleasurable book I read in 2000. If the chief end of a novel is entertainment, then this book succeeded admirably.

It's startling how thoughtful, evocative and just plain funny a man can be in writing his regular correspondance. Makes you want to be a prolific letter-writer yourself. Makes you wish he were still alive so that you could respond to some of the more inflammatory things he says.

I don't think I'd realized quite how much Davies was concerned about the "place" of Canadian Literature in the world literature canon; it comes out so plainly here.

Judith Skelton Grant, who edited the letters, is mentioned repeatedly in them -- Davies apparently was amused, worried and sometimes just ticked off about the biography she was writing of him.

I enjoyed this book's organization, which was established by the various books Davies had written over the last part of his career. While not Canadian, and thereby somewhat in the dark regarding some of the letters' recipients, I found the editor's annotations brief but helpful. The main draw here is the author's distinctive voice, which emerges within the various letters.

I am not usually interested in reading compilations of letters. Here, however, I find a volume that constitutes a diversion from my other reading, a book which I can pick up from time to time and garner ideas for those brighter days when I re-read a Davies' novel. For this end, I found the collection worthwhile!

What's bred in the bone will out in the flesh, the saying goes. Sheer genius must have composed the vast mass of Robertson Davies' bones. This wonderfully witty novel is typical of Davies' brilliant, erudite & gripping style. It left me aghast with wonder that one man can know so much, cover it so well and tie his references together and all the while remain hugely entertaining. This is the middle part of the Cornish Trilogy and as stunning as the other two. Two angels discuss the life of a deceased art collector and philanthropist and flashbacks show how the young man came to be widely respected from a life as an art forger. If you haven't already read "The Rebel Angels" do it, If you have, you have no need to read further, you will want to buy this book anyway. This is one of the best books I have ever read and Robertson Davies is one of the greats.

what's bred in the bone is one of those books that you hope to forget as soon as you've finished reading it -- just so you can go back and rediscover it again. i read this book once every few years, and i'm always surprised at how much i like it. just finished it for the third time. i love his use of the daimon maimas and the recording angel to recount the secrets of francis cornish's life. i recommend this book to anyone that is a lover of great literature (along with any other davies novel you might find intriguing...)

This is the first book by Davies I ever read, and it remains my favourite. As I found out later, it is the centrepiece of what came to be known as the Cornish trilogy. It is the story of Francis Cornish, a talented artist from provincial Canada who is recruited into the British secret service and participates in a major art forging operation intended to thwart the nazis. In the course of the process he finds and loses the love of his life, paints a medieval tryptich depicting the Marriage at Canaan that is also a representation of the major figures in his life (all of them very colourful), unmasks another forger after the war and ultimately has to give up his career as a "medieval painter" when his masterpiece is purchased by a Canadian museum on the assumption that it is genuine. Cornish's life is narrated by his daimon, a sort of "biographical angel", and has many more twists and turns than I can possibly describe here. The book is full of Davies' urbane wit and Jungian wisdom. It tails off a bit towards the end, but that is compensated in the "sequel" about his nephew Arthur and his patronage of the arts, "The Lyre of Orpheus". Highly recommended, but I suggest you start with the first part of this trilogy, "The Rebel Angels". Newcomers, beware: Davies' fiction is highly addictive.