Even after a hundred years, you can’t beat Mark Twain for originality. After fiddling around with the idea of an autobiography or memoir for a couple of decades, rejecting most of his efforts as too literary, he finally around 1902 hit on the idea of 1) eschewing chronology; and 2) dictating rather than writing the story of his life. Chronology ruined spontaneity, he reasoned, and allowed the writer to distort time and facts and hide behind the need to stick to a time line. The act of writing led to bookmanship which turned a life story into a novel, an artifice. Thus, he sat up in bed in the morning, a stenographer at his service, and began talking about whatever entered his mind. The notes would be typed up and filed. He stipulated that most of what he said would not be published until a hundred years after his death (in 1910, as it turned out) because he intended to tell the unvarnished truth, and it might take a century to assure that his criticisms would harm neither their target (especially if it was himself) or their families unto three generations. I’m glad we finally have this, and thank Jim and Becky for the gift. The editors at the Mark Twain project of the Bancroft Library in Berkeley, headed by Harriet Elinor Smith, had a prodigious task to track down all the letters, notes, events, and references in the Twain files, which had been worked over by several other editors and transcribers and filers. What they’ve turned out is a weighty (about 5 pounds) tome which says on the cover is volume 1. The page count (736, including index, etc.) tells only part of the story. A more conventional font size would have easily pushed the the book over the thousand mark. Not only that, but the actual autobiography doesn’t begin until over 200 pages into the work, the opening pages being consumed by other writings, mostly heretofore unpublished but not necessarily part of what Twain labeled autobiography. I’m making it sound like this is more of a scholarly treatise than anything else, and that might be an accurate view. However, not far in, I began to view it as a treasure hunt. Lots of gold. You need to be patient and persistent in shoveling the dross, but who would want to miss out on passages like this: Paige (the inventor of the typesetting machine which famously cost Twain a couple of hundred thousand in lost investment dollars) and I always meet on effusively affectionate terms; yet he knows perfectly well that if I had his nuts in a steel-trap I would shut out all human succor and watch that trap till he died. You can see why Twain might want to wait a while before that saw print. Or this on Thanksgiving: Thanksgiving day is a function which originated in New England two or three centuries ago when those people recognized they really had something to be thankful for --annually, not oftener--if they had succeeded in exterminating their neighbors, the Indians, during the previous twelve months instead of getting exterminated by their neighbors, the Indians. Thanksgiving Day became a habit, for the reason that in the course of time, as all ll on the white man’s side, consequently on the lord’s side, consequently it was proper to thank the lord for it and extend the usual annual compliment.s The original reason for a Thanksgiving Day has long ago ceased to exits--The Indians have long ago been comprehensively and satisfactorily exterminated and the account closed with heaven with the thanks due. Like most people, I knew something about Twain’s life--his boyhood in Hannibal Missouri, his riverboat days which changed him from Samuel Clemens into Mark Twain, his adventures in the California/Nevada gold and silver country, his disastrous investment in a typesetting machine that cost him two years of international lecturing to pay the debt. I’ve been to his house in Hartford, CT, checked out the burglar alarm and pool table and telephone. But I knew nothing of him as a family man, devoted to wife and daughters. A wife whose health was frail from early childhood (The ailment that kept her in bed for two years is still a matter of speculation.), and which sent them around the world looking and hoping for cures until she finally succumbed to something (heart failure on the death certificate) in 1904 at the age of 58. Two other daughters died young--Susie at 24 of meningitis, Jean at 29 of a heart attack thought to be connected somehow with her epilepsy. A lengthy section of the autobiography is devoted the biography of her father Susie began at age sixteen biography--her text and his commentary--and is quite poignant. Twain/Clemens had far more to him than curmudgeonry. Other than his venture into the typesetting scheme, I knew nothing of the author as businessman. But he was one, and active in various capitalistic ventures his whole life. Most of them had in one way or another to do with publishing. He was always in negotiations with his publishers over his own work, and often convinced he was being cheated, and was often right. But he also had his own (in a partnership) company for many years. It’s main score was the publication of the memoirs of Ulysses S. Grant, which turned a huge profit. However, there were a number of other successes before the company finally went belly up through misappropriation of funds by the partners. I also didn’t know how much time he lived abroad--a good fifteen-twenty years all over Europe--and in New York and Connecticut. And finally, you’d expect him to know most of the literati, but he was also friends with rich, famous, and political figures of all stripes--Grant, of course, Grover Cleveland and his pretty wife, John D. Rockefeller, and so on. Thus, when he turned seventy in 1905, he’d not only had a long and productive literary career, but had become and international rock star of sorts, whose celebrity far outstripped the mere putting of pen to paper. We close with a few words from the remarks he made at the dinner honoring his achievement of reaching three-score-and-ten, a place Susanne and I both aspire to reach at different times this year.I have had a great many birthdays in my time. I remember the first one very well..I hadn’t any hair, any teeth, I hadn’t any clothes on, and I had to go to my first banquet just like that.I have achieved my seventy years in the usual way; by sticking strictly to a scheme of life which would kill anybody else.I have made it a rule to go to bed when there wasn’t anybody left to sit up with; and I have made it a rule to get up when I had to.It has always been my rule never to smoke when asleep, and never to refrain when awake. As for drinking, I have no rule about that. When the others drink, I like to help; otherwiseI remain dry, by habit and preference. This dryness does not hurt me, but it could easily hurt you...let it alone.I have never taken any exercise except sleeping and resting, and I never intend to take any...it cannot be any benefit when you are tired; and I was always tired. .. I’ve devoted more space to this work than any other in Writer Working, and barely touched on the learning, wisdom and laughs therein. The effort is not inconsiderable, but the rewards? Stupendous.
Ok, I have decided to mete out the 5 stars sparingly. The rating wouldn't mean much if it was given to just any old book that I happened to like. This book though, is without a doubt, one of those few that actually deserves more than 5 stars and it is therefore one of my favorite books of all time. Why? Well, I think there are some books that you read and you think, upon closing the last page, "Hmmm, that was a pretty good book", but then if asked about it a few days later you might be hard pressed to remember much if anything about it. Other books you read, they affect you, they touch your life, your heart, your soul, and you are changed, a different person afterwards. I have not read too many of those books. When people are asked to name the books that have changed their lives, I'm always amused at those whose lists are long. My list is short and this one is on the short list. I absolutely fell in love with Mark Twain and his autobiography. It is even more interesting when you realize that Mark Twain never actually wrote an autobiography. What he did write were a grab bag assortment of small books and personal anecdotes, with the intention of someone else compiling it after his death into an autobiography. That is why each version will be slightly different. This is not the version that I read, but Amazon did not have a photo of it, so I chose this one. I was just so taken in by the humanity of Mark Twain, his was an American life to be sure, but it was more than that. He was a living human being,much more than just one of America's, the world's, most beloved authors. He was also a son, a brother, a husband, a father, a friend. He was all of those and more. He lived the ups and downs of life. He lived through more than his fair share of tragedy and yet in the end, he was never beaten by life's circumstances. He stayed true to who he was. He stayed forever and inimitably, Mark Twain. He laughed, he cried, he was happy, and he was sad. In the end he was supremely human, not a perfect human being, and his flaws are readily apparent. This was one of the few books that I have read where I actually had tears streaming down my face when I closed the last page. From his early boyhood, to the many tragedies in his life, all the way up to the end when he lost his daughter and his wife, this book was incredibly poignant. You couldn't help loving this man even more and being sad that we have no equivalent of Mark Twain today. He died himself the following year after his daughter Jean died and the world has been the worse off ever since.\
Do You like book The Autobiography Of Mark Twain (2000)?
This is not a traditional autobiography. It's like a novel itself. You get a great story + great writing style + classic Mark Twain humour. If I have to be honest, the latter part was a lot more interesting. I mean, I cried for something that's happened more than 100 years ago! Ahh, Mark Twain also known as definition of great writer... As he writes about his life you can see where he gets his characters for his books. Actually, I've heard that the autobiography's been waiting for 100 years to be published so that everyone mentioned in it are dead. Briefly, I enjoyed reading this because it was like spending time with a very interesting mind! :)
—Neah
Mark Twain was among the most fascinating of America's writers. He was brash, witty, eloquent, and very human. He brought us many immortal classics and now he writes to us, as an aging man reminiscing about his life. His biography starts on what seems to be a rather somber note, with him telling us about how as an old man his memory is not as active as it used to be and, to paraphrase the man's words, how he will not be around much longer. His unabridged biography is truly an interesting journey through his life with him reflecting on various points of his life, such as where he grew up, his parents, influences, etc. The book is filled with many of Twain's trademarks and it never feels predictable. Those who want to read about Mark Twain's life should definitely pick up this book. It's a long journey, but it's a rewarding and humorous one.
—Dawson Dailey
“In this Autobiography I shall keep in mind that I am speaking from the grave. I am literally speaking from the grave, because I shall be dead when the book issues from the press”(Twain xxxv).tThe Autobiography of Mark Twain explores the many aspects and anecdotes of Mark Twain’s life, as well as the many people who influenced Twain and his work immensely. He reveals his personal thoughts of the people around him, and the world around him. He reveals himself as a person who writes what he knows, as many of his beloved characters are based off of people he has known. Since the topic of the book is on his own life, it was very rich and full of detail. This is an exhilarating read, and is easily one of the best books I have read.tMr. Twain had led very rich and full life, which increase the quality of the piece itself. He goes from having a very incomplete education to having a honorary degree from Oxford University. He’s narrowly avoided death by duel, and faces hardship in the forms of massive debt. He is surrounded by loving family members and greedy publishers. He meets many famous people, including President Ulysses S. Grant, who asked Twain for his help when writing his autobiography. tWhat struck me about this book was that, at the middle of the book, I started to treat it not as a a boring biography but as an immersive and interesting story. He presents the events of his life with certain flair. For example, when Twain and a fellow author talk about Twain’s private politics: “Some days afterward I met her again for a moment and she gave me the startling information that she had written down everything I said, just as I said it, without any softening and purifying modifications… She begged me to let her publish.. but I said it would damn me before my time and I don’t wish to be useful to the world on such expensive conditions. (467) ”tHowever, the writing is a bit sporadic, as he tends to switch from an event from his early childhood to an event later in life. For example, he jumps from talking about his father’s style of cooking potatoes, to a feast that is being hosted by the Emperor of Germany. Although he is able to make it flow very well most of the time, it can become a hassle rereading notes trying to understand what was going on.tMark Twain’s presentation of his own life is vivid and full. Though his writing was chaotic at times, the Twain flair makes the chaos more exciting, more lively than an ordinary autobiography. Its dynamic presentation, although exciting, can break the pacing of the book. Also, some points of his life by themselves seem mundane. However, in the end, the strengths of The Autobiography of Mark Twain highlights this book as an exciting read.
—Virgilio
