The pocket George Borrow — Reading Notes

A Compiler's Candor

Thomas's preface is unusually frank about the limits of his project. He writes that after reading Borrow once or twice, a reader will likely dip into his books at intervals, gradually making a personal anthology. Yet he offers his own selection, hoping it will serve as an invitation or challenge. He acknowledges that many of the best things, especially from Wild Wales, had to be omitted because they are longer still. This honesty sets the tone: the anthology is a personal gesture, not a definitive collection. Thomas also notes that Borrow is not best when sententious, which explains why the chosen passages favor narrative and dialogue over moralizing.

Voices in Dispute

Borrow's writing thrives on argument. In one excerpt, a Spanish nobleman declares a preference for mules over horses, claiming horses kick too violently. Borrow's narrator counters with a technical point about mules that kick backward, adding a wry remark about the Father of the Church. Elsewhere, Francis Ardry and the narrator debate great men—Alexander, Napoleon, Tamerlane—before Ardry dismisses Wellington with a curt 'bah!' and returns to dog-fighting. These exchanges reveal Borrow's love of learned digression and his ear for the rhythms of spoken disagreement. The reader encounters a writer who treats conversation as a form of combat, but one conducted with relish rather than rancor.

Horses, Fairs, and the Road

Borrow's world is full of horses and the people who judge them. In a fair scene, the narrator rides a horse that attracts the attention of jockey-like connoisseurs. He ignores their calls, remembering the ostler's advice, and once outside town, he clears a five-barred gate to display the animal's quality. The passage is dense with practical detail—the horse's walking step versus its long trot, the borrowed finery that improves its appearance, the two gates fronting each other. Borrow writes with the authority of someone who knows horses intimately, and the scene conveys the tactile, competitive atmosphere of a country fair. The narrator's silent defiance of the experts adds a layer of quiet pride.

A Portable Anthology's Shape

The contents list shows the range of Borrow's work: Lavengro, The Romany Rye, The Bible in Spain, Wild Wales, and the Zincali. Thomas has chosen passages that highlight Borrow's fascination with Gypsies, pugilism, and religious controversy, but also quieter moments—a moonlit landscape, a goatherd's shoulder, a landlord bringing ale. The selection is weighted toward narrative and character rather than exposition. Because the excerpts are taken from longer works, the reader encounters scenes out of their original context, but Thomas's arrangement creates its own rhythm, moving from the Zincali's caves to Jasper Petulengro's opinions on death, from the bruisers' arrival to the binding of a book. The anthology becomes a mosaic of Borrow's obsessions.

This anthology is best read not as a summary of Borrow's achievement but as a series of encounters. Thomas has chosen passages that reward rereading: the dialogue crackles, the landscapes are sharply observed, and the narrator's voice—at once learned, stubborn, and curious—grows more distinctive with each excerpt. Readers new to Borrow might start with the horse fair or the argument about mules; those already familiar will find old friends in new arrangements. The pocket format invites dipping, as Thomas intended, and the book's value lies in the moments it preserves.

There are days when I dip into this Borrow and feel the wildness of his roads, the Gypsy voices lingering past the page. It reminds me of another quiet companion, Cambridge Sketches — Reading Notes, which holds a different sort of wandering—through quadrangles and memories. Both feel like old friends who never hurry their stories, and I’m grateful for that slowness.