Cold Comfort Farm

By Stella Gibbons

When a well-educated young socialite in 1930s England is left orphaned and unable to support herself at age twenty-two, she moves in with her eccentric relatives on their farm.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Reading Essentials
• Release date: Dec 28, 2018
• ISBN: 9781773233833

Stella Gibbons

Stella Gibbons nació en Londres en 1902. Fue la mayor de tres hermanos. Sus padres, ejemplo de la clase media inglesa suburbana, le dieron una educación típicamente femenina. Su padre, un individuo bastante singular, ejercía como médico en los barrios...

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COLD COMFORT FARM 

Stella Gibbons 

COLD COMFORT FARM

by Stella Gobbons

First published in 1932

This edition published by Reading Essentials

Victoria, BC Canada with branch offices in the Czech Republic and Germany

[e-mail]

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, except in the case of excerpts by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

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FOREWORD

TO ANTHONY POOKWORTHY, ESQ., A.B.S., L.L.R.

My dear Tony,

It is with something more than the natural deference of a tyro at the loveliest, most arduous and perverse of the arts in the presence of a master-craftsman that I lay this book before you. You know (none better) the joys of the clean hearth and the rigour of the game. But perhaps I may be permitted to take this opportunity of explaining to you, a little more fully than I have hitherto hinted, something of the disabilities under which I had laboured to produce the pages now open beneath your hand.

As you know, I have spent some ten years of my creative life in the meaningless and vulgar bustle of newspaper offices. God alone knows what the effect has been on my output of pure literature. I dare not think too much about it—even now. There are some things (like first love and one’s reviews) at which a woman in her middle years does not care to look too closely.

The effect of these locust years on my style (if I may lay claim to that lovely quality in the presence of a writer whose grave and lucid prose has permanently enriched our literature) has been perhaps even more serious.

The life of the journalist is poor, nasty, brutish and short. So is his style. You, who are so adept at the lovely polishing of every grave and lucent phrase, will realize the magnitude of the task which confronted me when I found, after spending ten years as a journalist, learning to say exactly what I meant in short sentences, that I must learn, if I was to achieve literature and favourable reviews, to write as though I were not quite sure about what I meant but was jolly well going to say something all the same in sentences as long as possible.

Far be it from me to pretend that the following pages achieve what first burned in my mind with pure lambency ten years ago. Which of us does? But the thing’s done! Ecco! E finito! And such as it is, and for what it is worth, it is yours.

You see, Tony, I have a debt to pay. Your books have been something more to me, in the last ten years, than books. They have been springs of refreshment, loafings for the soul, eyes in the dark. They have given me (in the midst of the vulgar and meaningless bustle of newspaper offices) joy. It is just possible that it was not quite the kind of joy you intended them to give, for which of us is infallible? But it was joy all right.

I must confess, too, that I have more than once hesitated before the thought of trying to repay some fraction of my debt to you by offering you a book that was meant to be... funny.

For your own books are not... funny. They are records of intense spiritual struggles, staged in the wild setting of mere, berg or fen. Tour characters are ageless and elemental things, tossed like straws on the seas of passion. You paint Nature at her rawest, in man and in landscapes. The only beauty that lights your pages is the grave peace of fulfilled passion, and the ripe humour that lies over your minor characters like a mellow light. Tou can paint everyday domestic tragedies (are not the entire first hundred pages of The Fulfilment of Martin Hoare a masterly analysis of a bilious attack?) as vividly as you paint soul cataclysms. Shall I ever forget Mattie Elginbrod? I shall not. Your books are more like thunderstorms than books. I can only say, in all simplicity, Thank you, Tony.

But funny... No.

However, I am sure you are big enough, in every sense of the word, to forgive my book its imperfections.

And it is only because I have in mind all those thousands of persons, not unlike myself, who work in the vulgar and meaningless bustle of offices, shops and homes, and who are not always sure whether a sentence is Literature or whether it is just sheer flapdoodle, that I have adopted the method perfected by the late Herr Baedeker, and firmly marked what I consider the finer passages with one, two or three stars. In such a manner did the good man deal with cathedrals, hotels and paintings by men of genius. There seems no reason why it should not be applied to passages in novels.

It ought to help the reviewers, too.

Talking of men of genius, what a constellation burns in our midst at the moment! Even to a tyro as unpractised as myself, who has spent the best creative years of her life in the vulgar and meaningless bustle of newspaper offices, there is some consolation, some sudden exaltation into a serener and more ardent air, in subscribing herself,

Ever, my dear Tony,

Your grateful debtor,

Stella Gibbons

Watford.

Lyons’ Corner House.

Boulogne-sur-Mer.

January 1931-February 1932

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CHAPTER I

THE education bestowed on Flora Poste by her parents had been expensive, athletic and prolonged; and when they died within a few weeks of one another during the annual epidemic of the influenza or Spanish Plague which occurred in her twentieth year, she was discovered to possess every art and grace save that of earning her own living.

Her father had always been spoken of as a wealthy man, but on his death his executors were disconcerted to find him a poor one. After death duties had been paid and the demands of creditors satisfied, his child was left with an income of one hundred pounds a year, and no property.

Flora inherited, however, from her father a strong will and from her mother a slender ankle. The one had not been impaired by always having her own way nor the other by the violent athletic sports in which she had been compelled to take part, but she realized that neither was adequate as an equipment for earning her keep.

She decided, therefore, to stay with a friend, a Mrs Smiling, at her house in Lambeth until she could decide where to bestow herself and her hundred pounds a year.

The death of her parents did not cause Flora much grief, for she had barely known them. They were addicted to travel, and spent only a month or so of each year in England. Flora, from her tenth year, had passed her school holidays at the house of Mrs Smiling’s mother; and when Mrs Smiling married, Flora spent them at her friend’s house instead. It was therefore with the feelings of one who returns home that she entered the precincts of Lambeth upon a gloomy afternoon in February, a fortnight after her father’s funeral.

Mrs Smiling was fortunate in that she had inherited house property in Lambeth before the rents in that district soared to ludicrous heights, following the tide of fashion as it swung away from Mayfair to the other side of the river, and the stone parapets bordering the Thames became, as a consequence, the sauntering ground of Argentinian women and their bull-terriers. Her husband (she was a widow) had owned three houses in Lambeth which he had bequeathed to her. One, in Mouse Place, was the pleasantest of the three, and faced with its shell fanlight the changing Thames; here Mrs Smiling lived, while of the other two, one had been pulled down and a garage perpetrated upon its site, and the third, which was too small and inconvenient for any other purpose, had been made into the Old Diplomacy Club.

The white porcelain geraniums which hung in baskets from the little iron balconies of 1, Mouse Place, did much to cheer Flora’s spirits as her taxi stopped before its door.

Turning from the taxi to the house, she saw that the door had already been opened by Mrs Smiling’s butler, Sneller, who was looking down upon her with dim approval. He was, she reflected, almost rudely like a tortoise; and she was glad her friend kept none as pets or they might have suspected mockery.

Mrs Smiling was awaiting her in the drawing-room overlooking the river. She was a small Irishwoman of twenty-six years, with a fair complexion, large grey eyes and a little crooked nose. She had two interests in Hie. One was the imposing of reason and moderation into the bosoms of some fifteen gentlemen of birth and fortune who were madly in love with her, and who had flown to such remote places as Jhonsong La Lake M’Luba-M’Luba and the Kwanhattons because of her refusal to marry them. She wrote to them all once a week, and they (as her friends knew to their cost, for she was ever reading aloud long, boring bits from their letters) wrote to her.

These gentlemen, because of the hard work they did in savage foreign parts and of their devotion to Mrs Smiling, were known collectively as Mary’s Pioneers-O, a quotation from the spirited poem by Walt Whitman.

Mrs Smiling’s second interest was her collection of brassières, and her search for a perfect one. She was reputed to have the largest and finest collection of these garments in the world. It was hoped that on her death it would be left to the nation.

She was an authority on the cut, fit, colour, construction and proper functioning of brassières; and her friends had learned that her interest, even in moments of extreme emotional or physical distress, could be aroused and her composure restored by the hasty utterance of the phrase:

I saw a brassière to-day, Mary, that would have interested you...

Mrs Smiling’s character was firm and her tastes civilized. Her method of dealing with wayward human nature when it insisted on obtruding its grossness upon her scheme of life was short and effective; she pretended things were not so: and usually, after a time, they were not Christian Science is perhaps a larger organization, but seldom so successful.

Of course, if you encourage people to think they’re messy, they will be messy, was one of Mrs Smiling’s favourite maxims. Another was, Nonsense, Flora. You imagine things.

Yet Mrs Smiling herself was not without the softer graces of imagination.

Well, darling, said Mrs Smiling—and Flora, who was tall, bent and kissed her cheek—will you have tea or a cocktail?

Flora said that she would have tea. She folded her gloves and put her coat over the back of a chair, and took the tea and a cinnamon wafer.

Was the funeral awful? inquired Mrs Smiling. She knew that Mr Poste, that large man who had been serious about games and contemptuous of the arts, was not regretted by his child. Nor was Mrs Poste, who had wished people to live beautiful lives and yet be ladies and gentlemen.

Flora replied that it had been horrid. She added that she was bound to say all the older relatives seemed to have enjoyed it no end.

Did any of them ask you to go and live with them? I meant to warn you about that. Relatives are always wanting you to go and live with them, said Mrs Smiling.

No. Remember, Mary, I have only a hundred pounds a year now; and I cannot play Bridge.

Bridge? What is that? inquired Mrs Smiling, glancing vaguely out of the window at the river. What curious ways people have of passing their time, to be sure. I think you are very fortunate, darling, to have got through all those dreadful years at school and college, where you had to play all those games, without getting to like them yourself. How did you manage it?

Flora considered.

"Well—first of all, I used to stand quite still and stare at the trees and not think about anything. There were usually some trees about, for most games, you know, are played at in the open air, and even in the winter the trees are still there. But I found that people would bump into me, so I had to give up standing still, and run like the others. I always ran after the ball because, after all, Mary, the ball is important in a game, isn’t it? until I found they didn’t like me doing that, because I never got near it or hit it or did whatever you are supposed to do to it.

"So then I ran away from it instead, but they didn’t seem to like that either, because apparently people in the audience wondered what I was doing out on the edge of a field all by myself, and running away from the ball whenever I saw it coming near me.

"And then a whole lot of them got at me one day after one of the games was over, and told me I was no good. And the Games Mistress seemed quite worried and asked me if I really didn’t care about lacrosse (that was the name of the game), and I said no, I was afraid I didn’t, really; and she said it was a pity, because my father was so ‘keen’, and what did I care about?

So I said, well, I was not quite sure, but on the whole I thought I liked having everything very tidy and calm all round me, and not being bothered to do things, and laughing at the kind of joke other people didn’t think at all funny, and going for country walks, and not being asked to express opinions about things (like love, and isn’t so-and-so peculiar?). So then she said, oh, well, didn’t I think I could try to be a little less slack, because of Father, and I said no, I was afraid I couldn’t; and after that she left me alone. But all the others still said I was no good.

Mrs Smiling nodded her approval, but she told Flora that she talked too much. She added:

Now about this going to live with someone. Of course, you can stay here as long as you like, darling; but I suppose you will want to take up some kind of work some time, won’t you, and earn enough to have a flat of your own?

What kind of work? asked Flora, sitting upright and graceful in her chair.

Well—organizing work, like I used to do. (For Mrs Smiling had been an organizer for the L.G.G. before she married Diamond Tod Smiling, the racketeer.) Do not ask me what that is, exactly, for I’ve forgotten. It is so long since I did any. But I am sure you could do it Or you might do journalism. Or book-keeping. Or bee-keeping.

Flora shook her head.

I’m afraid I couldn’t do any of those things, Mary.

Well... what then, darling? Now, Flora, don’t be feeble. You know perfectly well that you will be miserable if you haven’t got a job, when all your friends have. Besides, a hundred pounds a year won’t even keep you in stockings and fans. What will you live on?

My relatives, replied Flora.

Mrs Smiling gave her a shocked glance of inquiry, for, though civilized in her tastes, she was a strong-minded and moral woman.

Yes, Mary, repeated Flora firmly, "I am only nineteen, but I have already observed that whereas there still lingers some absurd prejudice against living on one’s friends, no limits are set, either by society or by one’s own conscience, to the amount one may impose upon one’s relatives.

Now I am peculiarly (I think if you could see some of them you would agree that that is the word) rich in relatives, on both sides of the family. There is a bachelor cousin of Father’s in Scotland. There is a sister of Mother’s at Worthing (as though that were not enough, she breeds dogs). A female cousin of Mother’s lives in Kensington. And there are also some distant cousins, connections of Mother’s, I believe, who live in Sussex...

Sussex . . . mused Mrs Smiling. I don’t much like the sound of that. Do they live on a decaying farm?

I am afraid they do, confessed Flora, reluctantly. However, I need not try them unless everything else fails. I propose to send a letter to the relatives I have mentioned, explaining the situation and asking them if they are willing to give me a home in exchange for my beautiful eyes and a hundred pounds a year.

Flora, how insane!. cried Mrs Smiling; you must be mad. Why, you would die after the first week. You know that neither of us have ever been able toabide relatives. You must stay here with me, and learn typing and shorthand, and then you can be somebody’s secretary and have a nice little flat of your own, and we can have lovely parties...

Mary, you know I hate parties. My idea of hell is a very large party in a cold room, where everybody has to play hockey properly. But you put me off what I was going to say. When I have found a relative who is willing to have me, I shall take him or her in hand, and alter his or her character and mode of living to suit my own taste. Then, when it pleases me, I shall marry.

Who, pray? demanded Mrs Smiling, rudely; she was much perturbed.

Somebody whom I shall choose. I have definite ideas about marriage, as you know. I have always liked the sound of the phrase ‘a marriage has been arranged’. And so it should be arranged! Is it not the most important step a mortal creature can take? I prefer the idea of arrangement to that other statement that marriages are made in Heaven.

Mrs Smiling shuddered at the compelling, the almost Gallic, cynicism of Flora’s speech. For Mrs Smiling believed that marriages should arise naturally from the union of two loving natures, and that they should take place in churches, with all the usual paraphernalia and hugaboo; and so had her own marriage arisen and been celebrated.

But what I wanted to ask you was this, continued Flora. Do you think a circular letter to all these relatives would be a good idea? Would it impress them with my efficiency?

No, returned Mrs Smiling, coldly, I do not think it would. It would be too putting-off. You must write to them, of course (making it an entirely different letter each time, Flora), explaining the situation—that is, if you really are going to be so insane as to go on with the idea.

Don’t fuss, Mary. I will write the letters to-morrow, before lunch. I would write them to-night, only I think we ought to dine out—don’t you?—to celebrate the inauguration of my career as a parasite. I have ten pounds, and I will take you to the New River Club—angelic place!

Don’t be silly. You know perfectly well we must have some men.

Then you can find them. Are any of the Pioneers-O home on leave?

Mrs Smiling’s face assumed that brooding and maternal look which was associated in the minds of her friends with thoughts of the Pioneers-O.

Bikki is, she said. (All the Pioneers-O had short, brusque nicknames rather like the cries of strange animals, but this was quite natural, for they all came from places full of strange animals.)

And your second cousin, Charles Fairford, is in town, continued Mrs Smiling. The tall, serious, dark one.

He will do, said Flora, with approval. He has such a funny little nose.

Accordingly, about twenty minutes to nine that night Mrs Smiling’s car drove away from Mouse Place carrying herself and Flora in white dresses, with absurd little wreaths of flowers at the side of their heads; and opposite sat Bikki and Charles, whom Flora had only met half a dozen times before.

Bikki, who had a shocking stammer, talked a great deal, as people with stammers always love to do. He was plain and thirtyish, and home on leave from Kenya. He pleased them by corroborating all the awful rumours they had heard about the place. Charles, who looked well in tails, spoke hardly at all. Occasionally he gave a loud, deep, musical Ha Ha! when amused at anything. He was twenty-three, and was to be a parson. He stared out of the window most of the time, and hardly looked at Flora.

I don’t think Sneller approves of this excursion, observed Mrs Smiling, as they drove away. He looked all dim and concerned. Did you notice?

He approves of me, because I look serious, said Flora. A straight nose is a great help if one wishes to look serious.

I do not wish to look serious, said Mrs Smiling, coldly. There will be time enough to do that when I have to come and rescue you from some impossible relations living in some ungetatable place because you can’t bear it any longer. Have you told Charles about it?

Good heavens, no! Charles is a relation. He might think I wanted to go and live with him and Cousin Helen in Hertfordshire, and was angling for an invitation.

Well, you could if you liked, said Charles, turning from his study of the glittering streets gliding past the windows. There is a swing in the garden and tobacco flowers in the summer, and probably Mother and I would quite like it if you did.

Don’t be silly, said Mrs Smiling. Look—here we are. Did you get a table near the river, Bikki?

Bikki had managed to do that; and when they were seated facing the flowers and lights on their table they could look down through the glass floor at the moving river, and watch it between their slippers, as they danced. Through the glass walls they could see the barges going past, bearing their romantic red and green lights. Outside it had begun to rain, and the glass roof was soon trickling with silver.

In the course of supper Flora told Charles of her plan. He was silent at first; and she thought he was shocked. For though Charles had not a straight nose, it might have been written of him, as Shelley wrote of himself in the Preface to Julian and Maddalo, Julian is rather serious.

But at last he said, looking amused:

Well, if you get very sick of it, wherever you are, phone me and I will come and rescue you in my plane.

Have you a plane, Charles? I don’t think an embryo parson should have a plane. What breed is it?

A Twin Belisha Bat. Its name is Speed Cop II.

But, really, Charles, do you think a parson ought to have a plane? continued Flora, who was in a foolish mood.

What has that to do with it? said Charles calmly. Anyway, you let me know and I will come along.

Flora promised that she would, for she liked Charles, and then they danced together; and all four

Reviews for Cold Comfort Farm

[elaineruss · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This little book is charming and clever but more than that, it's highly amusing. I laughed out loud several times and it's one of those books you want read passages aloud from.

The reason it gets 4 stars and not 5 is it's a little too knowing and becomes a little repetitive. A small price to pay though for such a lovely read.

[kant1066 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This book is hilarious. More than once I made a fool of myself while reading it in front of other people, bursting out in spontaneous laughter when I got to a particular passage. It is pure parody. But of course, it helps to know what is being parodied: the object of derision here is the rustic, rural life portrayed in countless novels by D. H. Lawrence, Thomas Hardy, and Mary Webb. But even if you’re not familiar with the dark, brooding nature of some of these characters, I think the book remains funny because it has aged very well. The book begins with the death of the Flora Poste’s parents, and her relatively blasé reaction. Unaffected though she is, she finds that her parents have left no money to support her, and she simply cannot bring herself to work for a living. Instead, she decides to impose upon her cousins, the Starkadders at Cold Comfort Farm with only the aid of a favorite book, “The Higher Common Sense.” This is when the fun begins. On arriving at Cold Comfort Farm, she finds a host of backward, absurd rubes with names like Urk, Elfine, and Amos. (On the farm, there are four cows named Graceless, Aimless, Feckless, and Pointless.) Presiding over the whole clan is the loony, elderly matriarch Aunt Adam Doom, who at one point repeatedly declares that she “saw something nasty in the woodshed.” But none of this manages to perturb Flora, whose Englishness seems to foreordain a neat, tidy plan for everyone involved. She rescues Elfine from a freewheeling “loam and lovechild” life of writing poetry, and marries her off to a local man by the name of Richard Hawk-Monitor. She sets up Mr. Mybug, an officious hack-scholar who is working on a book supposedly demonstrating that the works of the Bronte sisters are really the product of their brother Branwell, with a girl named Rennett. Perhaps her biggest accomplishment is convincing Aunt Adam Doom to leave Cold Comfort Farm to finally leave the room she has confined herself to for twenty years to spend some time in Paris.This novel is wonderful lightness, but that should not be confused with being light: it is so wonderfully crafted, full of such deft sharpness and acerbic wit that it is difficult to write off as simply a parlor game satire. The narrative voice is memorably tart and sardonic, but not overweening. Whenever you think that Flora will trip up in one of her plans, you find that she is already three steps ahead of you: in fact, she already has you, the reader, figured out. The silly, unbelievable characters do prevent Flora from having a Big Problem to solve, but I always appreciated her ability to compartmentalize, rationalize, and order what she conceived to be a very disorderly universe. It struck me as a very English theme. And you’ll probably walk away from the novel smirking at yourself if you’ve ever admitted that you admired a novel by Thomas Hardy or D. H. Lawrence.

[milda8tx · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Well, I'm bummed.Thought I was reading a classic, felt like I was missing something, and found out afterwards that I picked up an abridged version by mistake.Shoot.It was still silly and fun, though.

[kren250 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Written as a parody of the sensationalized novels of the 1930s, Cold Comfort Farm is a short, funny, entertaining story. It all starts when orphaned Flora decides she would rather live off her relatives than find a job. After dashing off letters to her unsuspecting relations, she picks the Starkadder family of Cold Comfort Farm to move in with. The Starkadders are a bit of a backwards bunch: an oversexed brother, wild sister, and Bible thumping father, among others. They are all overseen by Flora's Great Aunt Ada Doom, who saw "something nasty in the woodshed" years before. Hilarity ensues as Flora attempts to clean up, domesticate, and civilize the Starkadder clan.

[violetthedwarf · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

excellent, sparkling satire.

[jbd1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I'd seen the movie previously so I had a little bit of a sense of what to expect here, but this surpassed expectations. A great parody. And I kept going to look up words only to find that Gibbons had made them up!

[jayne_charles_1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

I am always surprised by the the praise heaped on this book, which seemed to me a bit lacking in substance. Gibbons invents some admirable, and highly believable yokel-dialect, but beyond that it's just simplistic tripe. I appreciate what she's trying to do in parodying Hardy etc, but even he didn't perpetrate such paper-thin plots. I found myself longing for a bit of Hardy-esque flowery language, as the storyline just seemed to consist of Flora waving a magic wand and solving everyone's problems at a stroke. As for the Aunt Ada 'climax', it was unforgivable!

[proustitute_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Laugh-out-loud funny at times; very insular, and knowledge of Victorian and Edwardian history and politics is required to get some of the inside jokes Gibbons maps on to very caricature-esque characters. Some of the chapters dragged on and I felt this would have worked better as a short story or novella. The implicit analysis of class relations was done well, and I liked how Gibbons shows her debt to literary predecessors like Austen and Dickens while still firmly rooted in 1930s England.

[isabelx_21 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

"Child, child, if you come to this doomed house, what is to save you? Perhaps you may be able to help us when our hour comes."When orphaned Flora Poste writes to various relatives asking whether she can come to live with then, she can't resist the answer from her cousin Judith. So she goes to live with the Starkadder household at Cold Comfort Farm, where they live under the rule of Aunt Ada Doom, who saw something nasty in the woodshed as a child and has never been the same since.This book gets 10 out of 10 from me, as it is the funniest book I've read in a long while.

[writestuff_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Cold Comfort Farm was first published in 1932 and was Stella Gibbons’ first novel. It is one of those novels which became almost an instant classic, but which is not the first book one thinks of when they think “classic literature.” Stella Gibbons was born in the UK and her novel is set there. Flora Poste finds herself highly educated, but unable to support herself after the death of both her parents. She immediately sets about contacting various relatives and asking if she can live with them (this as a way of not finding work). She accepts an invitation to live on Cold Comfort Farm with her aunt and extended relatives. The farm is out in the country (as farms tend to be) and the characters who live there include Elfine (a flighty free spirit), Seth, Reuben, Judith Starkadder, Adam (who washes dishes with a twig), Amos Starkadder and a menagerie of farm animals including the cows Feckless, Graceless, Aimless and Pointless.The novel is essentially satire – lighthearted, funny and a bit eccentric. Despite it being written in the 1930′s, it has a modern appeal. The characters and their weirdness are what drive the narrative…and much of the plot is meandering as a way of supporting the growth of the characters.I enjoyed much of the book, but will admit to growing weary of it before turning the last page. Some of what happens just felt silly to me. Flora does redeem herself from a selfish, lazy person into someone I grew to like. There is a “mystery” in the novel which unfortunately Gibbons leaves unresolved. I found that a bit annoying.Over all, Cold Comfort Farm is worth the read for those who enjoy British Literature and Classic Fiction…but be prepared to set aside reality and simply step into the crazy world of the Starkadders first!

[kjacobson1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I've watched the film version of this several times and finally read the book. Both are fun, and I think this is one case in which the film lives up to the spirit of the book. It was difficult for me to read without picturing Kate Beckinsdale as Flora and Joanna Lumley as Miss Smiley. Gibbons should have written a book about Miss Smiley--I'd love to know more about the Pioneers-O and the brassiere collection. This book is a nice spoof on Jane Austen's Emma and its interesting that Beckinsdale has also played that role.

[kittyjay · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Stella Gibbons's Cold Comfort Farm follows protagonist Flora, an almost ruthlessly pragmatic and tidy person, as she imposes upon her dour relatives in Sussex. The Starkadders, proprietors of the farm, are a collection of quirky individuals ranging from the hellfire-and-brimstone Amos, the wild and untamed Elphine, and the matriarch of the family, Ada Doom, who once "saw something nasty in the woodshed" and has never fully recovered from the trauma.

With a deep belief in tidiness, a familiarity with all sorts of literary tropes (including the ubiquity of men named Seth and Reuben residing in the country), and a sangfroid worthy of Alice in Wonderland, Flora begins to sort out the depressing lives of the inhabitants of Cold Comfort Farm.

I commiserated with Lynne Truss's superb introduction when she said she had initially put off reading the book, imagining the parody to be irrelevant as the genre it skewers, but Gibbons's humor has not aged; her tart, terse prose is perfectly suited to comedy. Even the little details, such as the names of the cows (Feckless, Aimless, Pointless, and Graceless), are hilarious.

A hysterical parody of the traditional country story, Cold Comfort Farm remains a classic of the English parody.

[helena81_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Light, enjoyable, a lot of fun. Gibbons' wry style and Flora's matter-of-factness are funny and charming.

[schant-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Always a funny and slightly surreal read.

[helynrob · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

i've read this book many times over and every single time i am as equally delighted with it as i was with my first read-through. seth remains my favorite, though my bias could be colored by rufus sewell's rendition of the character--which in my opinion is spot on.

[mlbelize · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

What a shame that we don’t all have a “Flora” in our lives to tidy up for us. This parody of the helpless female orphan is so clever and entertaining that it was great fun to read and I know it’s one that I will re-read with as much enjoyment as I did the first time.

[kristelh_15 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Written in 1938, this is a comic novel that parodies romance novels set in rural settings such as were written by D. H. Lawrence, Jane Austen and Kaye-Smith, Thomas Hardy and the Bronte sisters. The book especially reminded me of Emma by Austen as this book as Flora, a orphan decides to visit her relatives on Cold Comfort Farm to clean things up. The author also parodies the rural accents and makes up word; mollucking, clettering, sukebind. The names of the milk cows; Feckless, Aimless, Pointless and Graceless and the Bull Big Business as are the names of the characters are also quite amusing. A short novel, it took me awhile to read as the beginning and middle just seemed so silly and going no where but over all it is a funny, light read which often fits the ticket. I will rate it 4 stars for creativity.

[trwhittier-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Where has the novel been all my life??? Cold Comfort Farm is one of those books that I had heard about (vaguely) for years, but had never gotten around to reading until recently. For shame, T, for shame! If I had only read it sooner, I could have happily joined the ranks of Gibbons-Lovers who re-read this novel annually. I loved - and I do mean LOVED - Gibbons' writing style, her voice, and her fabulously quirky characters. As for the plot, it was right up my alley, containing a vast about of ridiculous situations, plenty of romantic entanglements, and a generous helping of chaos. Oh, and if I ever happen to own a cow, I may seriously considering calling it "Feckless."

[andyram · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Oddly enough, the superficial Austen connection that led me to this movie was the Emma-Kate Beckinsale one. Gibbons ofcourse has more Austen sprinkled along the tale. Flora Poste is ostensibly a modern Emma, deriving a healthy cynicism from the intervening stereotyping of the countryside, authors, preachers, mad-women. The addition of the completely whimsical elements of "seeing something nasty in the woodshed" and the cows whose legs fall off from time to time, makes the book a jolly read.

[ncgraham_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

“I do not object to the phenomena, but I do object to the parrot.” — Flora Poste, Cold Comfort FarmStella Gibbons’ Cold Comfort Farm seems to be one of those books you either love or hate. I know some people who think it one of the greatest comic novels in the English languages; others find it banal.Well, I thought it was delightful.The story revolves around Miss Flora Poste, an intrepid young lady who has recently lost both her parents and must now either find a job or cast herself upon the kindness of relatives. Being well-bred, she abhors the idea of work, so she resolves to go and stay with her cousins the Starkadders on Cold Comfort Farm, and spend her time in setting all their lives in order. The prospect turns out to be rather more difficult than she thinks, for they are a frightful mess, indigent and uncouth. Cousin Judith is gloomy and depressed on account of her son Seth’s behavior, and darkly mentions a great wrong that her man did to Flora’s father years before. That man, Cousin Amos, gets his satisfaction from preaching to the Quivering Brethren (“There’ll be no butter in hell!”). Their eldest son, Reuben, simply wants to see the farm run well, and is afraid the Flora has come to steal it; Seth, meanwhile, has bedded nearly every maiden in the county, but his real passion is for the talkies. And poor young Elfine, who runs wild along the moors, simply wants to marry Richard Hawk-Monitor. As for the great matriarch, Aunt Ada Doom, she saw something nasty in the woodshed years ago, and has been holding it over everyone’s heads ever since....I read this book as part of a class on Jane Austen. This may seem odd at first—after all, what has Austen to do with a parody on the pastoral Gothic subgenre (leaving aside the fact that she wrote her own parody of a genre early on in her career)? On the surface, very little, the only connection seeming to be Flora’s statement that “when I am fifty-three or so I would like to write a novel as good as Persuasion. But the whole book reminded me of a letter Charlotte Brontë once wrote about her forebear:I have likewise read one of Miss Austen’s works, Emma—read it with interest and with just the degree of admiration which Miss Austen herself would have thought sensible and suitable—anything like warmth or enthusiasm, anything energetic, poignant, or heartfelt, is utterly out of place in commending these works.... She ... ruffles her reader by nothing vehement, disturbs him by nothing profound: the Passions are perfectly unknown to her; she rejects even a speaking acquaintance with that stormy Sisterhood; even to the Feelings she vouchsafes no more than an occasional graceful but distant recognition; too frequent converse with them would ruffle the smooth elegance of her progress.In a sense, Cold Comfort Farm can be thought of as a response to Brontë’s letter, in which Austenesque sensibleness is matched against a “stormy Sisterhood” of animal passions, and thereafter conquers. Flora may not have the moral energy of an Austen heroine, but in temperament she comes quite close, especially to Emma, with whom she shares a little priggishness, a tendency to meddle, and a desire for everything to be “just so.” The inspiration for the residents of the farm is owing more to contemporary novelists and Thomas Hardy than to Charlotte, but they all live by her beloved passion rather than cold sense (and Elfine’s moor-wandering is definitely a nod to her sister Emily’s Wuthering Heights). Another literary nod is found in the character of Mr. Mybug, a hilarious caricature of D. H. Lawrence. “He was not really interested in anything but sex” indeed!But I’m probably being far too critical and scholarly about the whole thing. The book has numerous qualities of its own, apart from its connections to other novels, although I do think it can only be fully understood once those are brought to light. It is a tremendously funny work, and the characters end up being a lot more sympathetic than you might expect. Of course, this is a purely subjective reaction, and there will always be a million different opinions about any given book. I feel this is particularly the case with comedy: either it tickles your funny bone or it doesn’t, and if it doesn’t, then none of its other attractions will really be apparent. Thankfully, I can confess my funny bone tickled!In passing, I would like to recommend the 1995 TV movie as supplemental viewing. There are a few minor changes to the plot and characters, but overall it captures the spirit and tone of its source material in a way that few film adaptations to. And the cast (Kate Beckinsale, Ian McKellen, Eileen Atkins) is just fantastic!Definitely one of my favorite reads of 2010.

[tippycanoegal · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I just re-read this book and remember now why I loved it so when I was in my twenties. Although it is a parody of the sturm-und-drangish rural novel that has now been out of fashion for many years, it is wickedly well written and sharply observed, and (best of all) it really is one of the funniest books that I have read, right up there with "Lucky Jim."

[brewergirl · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A hilarious look at life on a remote English farm. Memorable characters.

[edwinbcn · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Cold Comfort Farm has stood the wear of time well, and can still be read with pleasure, and while it's humour may no longer be hilarious (for some it may still be), it is midly and wryly funny. This is quite remarkable, and shows the intrinsic quality of writing. The style of writing is somewhat similar to that of Rosamond Lehmann, whose Invitation to the waltz touches on some similar themes, such as "life in the countryside". Incidentally, both books were published in the year 1932.While just two decades earlier, people were all excited about the novelty of automobiles, Stella Gibbons pokes mild fun at the popularity of aviation, suggestion planes might soon be as common as a brougham or taxi, as characters in the book come and take off. The image of the Flora's cousin Charles flying in from London, landing in a meadow will nicely tune your mind to the setting of the novel.A bit more difficult for contemporary readers to see is the way in which Cold Comfort Farm parodies 'rural family sagas' -- that is to say the type of novels written about and set in the countryside, featuring "authentic" characters speaking a strong rural vernacular, incestuous relationships, and broody and dark descriptions of nature and the countryside. Such writing had its literary predecessors in novels such as Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë, and the novels of Thomas Hardy and the young D.H. Lawrence. Unfamiliarity with the parodied genre is no problem, because to drive her point home Gibbons marked such passages with a triple asterisk, for example, the following description of Amos Starkadder:***His huge body, rude as a wind-tortured thorn, was printed darkly against the thin mild flame of the dclining winter sun that throbbed like a sallow lemon on the westering lip of Mockuncle Hill, and sent its pale, sharp rays into the kitchen through the open door. The brittle air, on which the fans of the trees were etched like aging skeletons, seemed thronged by the bright, invisible ghosts of a million dead summers. The cold beat in glassy waves against the eyelids of anybody who happened to be out in it. High up, a few chalky clouds doubtfully wavered in the pale sky that curved over against the rim of the Downs like a vast inverted pot-de-chambre. Huddled in the hollow, like an exhausted brute, the frosted roofs of Howling, crisp and purple as broccoli leaves, were like beasts about to spring.Cold Comfort Farm has a rather large number of characters, mainly the various family members of the Starkadders, two farm hands, and a fairly large number of characters around them, in the nearby village.Possible, but not mentioned, as a result of the Great Depression, Flora Poste's allowance dwindles to a mere 100 Pounds a year, and she looks for family members who can take her in. While she is rebuffed by most, old Aunt Ada Doom feels under obligation to do Flora a good turn in return for a wrong which is never disclosed, done to her father. Throughout the novel, the Starkadders and their farm hands keep referring to Flora never by her first name but always addressing her as Robert Poste's child.Upon her arrival, Flora finds the old farmhouse literally stuck in the mud. Everything is dirty, old, decrepit or out-of-date. Flora, of course, makes it her mission to clear things up. The backwardness of life on the farm is perhaps best symbolized by the miserable life of the farm's bull Big Business, permanently locked up and in the dark in the barn. Flora sets him free by releasing the miserable animal into the meadow.Once Flora has settled upon her mission, the plot takes off like a fly wheel, and in the course of a remarkably short time, Flora changes the age-old lifestyle of the family members for ever.Unscrupulously she breaks up relationships and goes about changing the farm folk's way of life. Typically, that is achieved by modernization and getting people off the farm and out of the countryside. Seth Starkadder gets into the film business, off to Hollywood, Amos Starkadder, hellfire preacher, makes it to the Bible Belt to preach in the US, Elfine, the Ariel-like beauty, is writhed out of her destined marriage with Urk and betrothed to the local squire, as Flora spends her annual allowance of 100 Pounds to dress Elfine up for a coming-out ball in the countryside. The most spectacular conversion is the transformation old Aunt Ada Doom from a brooding, evil matriarch into a slick, cosmopolitan granny, off to have the time-of-her-life in Paris. When Flora is done, mission accomplished in about three months, she returns to London.

[ridgewaygirl · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Miss Flora Poste would be perfectly at home in a P.G. Wodehouse novel. In temperament, she's more Jeeves than Wooster, but she's a woman who likes to go to dinner and out dancing with interesting companions, and she's aware of the importance of dressing for the occasion. At the beginning of Stella Gibbons' excellent novel, Flora discovers that she possesses every art and grace save that of earning her own living. She determines that her best option is to go and live with relatives and so she ends up arriving at Cold Comfort Farm, in deepest Sussex, aware of nothing but that they feel that they owe her a debt due to some wrong done to her father decades earlier. Cold Comfort Farm is a damp and depressing place, where emotions run higher than Charlotte Bronte would be entirely at ease with. Judith's breath came in long shudders. She thrust her arms deeper into her shawl. The porridge gave an ominous, leering heave; it might almost have been endowed with life, so uncannily did its movements keep pace with the human passions that throbbed above it."Cur," said Judith, levelly, at last. "Coward! Liar! Libertine! Who were you with last night? Moll at the mill or Violet at the vicarage? Or Ivy, perhaps, at the ironmongery? Seth -- my son..." Her deep, dry voice quivered, but she whipped it back, and her next words flew out at him like a lash."Do you want to break my heart?""Yes," said Seth, with an elemental simplicity.The porridge boiled over.And into this seething cauldron of family passions and unsanitary conditions, marches Flora, who quickly sees that she has her work cut out for her, to bring light and happiness and order to the denizens of Cold Comfort Farm, Howling, Sussex.A parody of the long forgotten genre of the rural melodrama, Cold Comfort Farm remains as approachable and humorous as it was when it was first published. Really, this was just a great deal of fun to read. Flora is a protagonist worth cheering for and her relentless good will and determination to set things to right have the reader hoping for happy solutions for every dour character.

[jvioland_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A parody of the idealized rural life. It is funny, but not hilarious.

[pinkozcat · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A very funny book. I especially enjoyed the names of the cattle: Aimless, Feckless, Graceless and Pointless, and Big Business, the bull.I was greatly amused by Gibbons' periodic descents into turgid prose, helpfully marked by star rating just in case the reader missed these gems.However, the book lost half a star because I never found out what happened to the goat, how the cow lost a leg and what Aunt Ada Doom saw in the woodshed. Is there a sequel ... ?

[atimco-1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I just finished Cold Comfort Farm in one sitting this afternoon. It's been on my to-read list for awhile now, having been touted by a friend as a very funny little bit of Britishness with hints of Austen and the Brontes. Anyone who knows me can testify that those particular names are always a good selling point with me, so I requested the book from PaperBackSwap and pulled it this afternoon from the neat, elite little stack on my desk, the books "on deck" to be read. I found it not nearly so funny or Austenian as I had been led to believe. When her parents die, Flora Poste finds herself with every useful accomplishment except the ability to make a living. She decides to descend upon her very interesting, very grotesque relatives in Sussex, the Starkadders at Cold Comfort Farm. There she finds much that needs to taken in hand and organized. And she, of course, is the one to do it. Cool, collected, and sophisticated, Flora reminds me of Austen's Emma with her incessant interfering with the lives of others. Only, Flora's exploits are not solely concerned with matchmaking, and her efforts are crowned with somewhat more success than those of her literary predecessor. I found all the characters hard to like. Flora is abominably selfish and bored, a flippantly proper young woman who plays with people, carefully manipulating them like figurines on a chessboard. Several of the male characters exude aggressive, pushy sexuality so strongly as to be offensive just to read about! But I think what really gets me underneath is the idea that people can have their miserable lives fixed up by a change in circumstances and a few adroit maneuverings by a pretty mastermind. It just feels like such a temporary, pointless fix to me. Real-life issues aren't in circumstances; they're in us. Circumstances just bring them out. In her foreword, Stella Gibbons says that she took the liberty of starring (***) what she calls "the finer passages" for the benefit of her readers (and critics). The result reads like an elaborate poking-fun at pretentious literature. Maybe funny — but it might be funnier if I knew it was supposed to be. As it is, I'm not sure when she's joking or being serious, and perhaps I feel a bit insecure about it!In many ways this book reminded me of Dodie Smith's I Capture the Castle, a story that started wonderfully but became increasingly banal, and which I finally did not like in the least. I know I'm in the minority for that opinion, and I expect it will be the same with this book. I did finish it all in one sitting, but I kept flipping to the back and mentally measuring how much longer it would take me to finish it. There just wasn't much to pull me into the story. I have to like the characters for it to work, and I didn't. Mrs. Beetle was probably the only one I didn't mind very much. All in all, I can't really recommend this one. I think I'll just go back to Austen.

[tess22_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The funniest book I know and my absolute favourite of all time (an accolade I insisted on avoiding for many years). I don't judge people on how much or what they choose to read, but I do judge bookshops on whether or not they have a copy of this. Every character, every event, every page is perfect.

[tandah_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I really enjoyed this book - on one hand, a witty p*take on alpha author DH Lawrence and gloomy Thomas Hardy, overt referencing of the Brontes, a slight nod to Austen's 'Emma' with slatherings of bread and butter; and on the other hand, just a good, funny read. The hero Flora, descends on gloomy Cold Comfort Farm and its inhabitants, and then sets about to put all of their miserable little lives back to rights. If only it was so simple, perhaps it is. Anyway, 'Cold Comfort Farm' is truly a comfort book, and recommend it to anyone who is looking for a witty book that they can escape with for a little while.

[wrichard_22 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A real send up and very funny