That I can read and be happy while I’m reading, is a great blessing!

Anthony Trollope

Right off the cuff, I am not a true Trollopian. For this I apologise.  Sadly I have only read one of his novels and it didn’t rock my world like some of the books I’ve read, but the author is interesting for more than just his literary works.

Plaque on the house in Montagu Square where
Anthony Trollope once lived

Born in 1815 in London, Anthony Trollope had a miserable childhood.  The schools that he attended were elite and Trollope had no money and no friends.  He was often bullied and even fantasized about suicide. If it wasn’t for his mother Frances becoming a successful writer herself, who knows what might have become of the Trollopes.

The family left London and lived in Belgium for a while and Anthony was offered a commission in an Austrian cavalry regiment, but before taking the post, he had to learn French and German within a year. The resourceful Trollope took a position as an usher in a school so he could learn the languages without any cost. How clever is that. This never came to fruition though because he received an offer of a clerkship in the General Post Office and returned to the UK to accept the position.

For some reason, this guy just couldn’t get his shit together.  He was constantly late for work and unruly. He owed money to a tailor and the debt grew to the extent that the debt collector would visit him at work demanding payments. He actually was very fearful that he would be dismissed.

An opportunity for him to relocate as a postal surveyor’s clerk arose in 1841. It meant a move to Ireland and an escape from the debt collector.  His supervisor jumped at the chance to get rid of him and Trollope was appointed the position.  He thrived in his new environment and became a valid member of staff.

So, to cut this very long story short, you know those red pillar boxes that dot the British urban horizon? Well, Anthony Trollope was responsible for those. They had been considered before, but his report confirmed the necessity and voila – the post box. Bow before its red glory.

Let’s not forget the one novel of his that I’ve read though.  The Warden is the first novel in the Chronicles of Barsetshire and I’m sure the others are just as wonderful. Although, I kind of struggled through it. He has plenty of work and plenty of fans so please, if you haven’t read anything by this amazing man, don’t let me discourage you. You might get right amongst it.

Trollope's grave in Kensal Green Cemetery

Anthony Trollope is buried in Kensal Green cemetery and I’ve been there.  A well-travelled author, he rests in the company of several other great writers that I will introduce you to in the future, but for now let me remind you that Once upon a time in the UK, a great mind delivered a report that made it possible for us to post letters at the end of the road instead of walking miles to the Post Office, and that’s why I love Anthony Trollope because I like to write letters.