Rating: 4.75* of fiveThe Book Report: Old Mr. Chipping, nearing ninety and still telling his hoary old jokes from sixty years ago to the newbies at Brookfields school, spends his last few days on earth wandering among the many well-furnished rooms in his head. We see the events of his entire career as a schoolmaster, his brief, brilliant career as a husband, and his long, glorious sunset as a School Institution. As he passes through the portal made for one (bet Chips'd know the source on that one), he feels...as I hope and pray all who read this will feel on their own long night...it was good, it was good.My Review: I read this book tonight because, for far from the first time in my life to date, I learned that I lost an old, old friend: My mother's best friend, my heart-mother, finally let go of her life barely short of her 92nd birthday on January 4.I know it was only her body wearing down, because dementia had long since taken her essence from the living world. But tonight, forty-two years after I met her and began to love her, I feel she is here. And I promised her I wouldn't cry, she told me it hurt her to see me cry once a lifetime ago, but I can't not. It's for myself, for my heart growing old and curling inwards from surprisingly fresh hurt. I don't miss her, or miss her more than I did yesterday; death is a release when someone is already no longer themselves; but the days ahead number fewer than the days behind, and I can see my own end like a hill far away, instead of the comforting illusion of horizons hiding it. It's not scary. It's just...real.I am now the age she was when I met her. My memories are so real! The Pirate's Den, the junque shoppe on North Lamar, parking under the pecan tree and racing everyone to be the first to see what was new; cold, cold Bull Creek, flat hot rocks, the folds of the Balcones Escarpment and their fossil shells; laughing, crying, talking, always with a silver-bunned, trifocalled, green-eyed artist teaching the only things she knew to teach. I needed them then, I treasure them now, and there is no one else to whom these memories mean one single thing except an old guy reliving his past.She was Mr. Chips, and I listened the way those schoolboys did; now it's my turn...sic semper tyrranis, oh wait that was the assassin but that's good too, sic transit Irenaea mundi...hail and farewell, dear, now you go on home to Mother and Daddy, walk safe!
I saw the film some time ago, and as it turns out it was an excellent adaptation – very faithful to this sweet, sad, warm little book. I don't want it to sound like a criticism when I say I have little to say about it beyond that (sweet, sad, warm); it isn't. I enjoyed it very much, though about halfway through the nostalgia became melancholy despite Chips's perennial good humor, and I needed a break from even so short a book. If nothing else what I'm going to remember strongly about Goodbye, Mr. Chips is the picture of the old man (not ill, mind, just tired) sitting by his fire with sudden and unexpected tears pouring down his face. The characters are remarkably alive; the setting is vivid; the period – especially the Great War – is made real. Mr. Chips – rather belatedly – joins the ranks of teachers I wish I'd had, teachers who actually care about what they're doing and about their pupils: teachers completely unlike any I had after third grade (Mrs. Schattan was wonderful). This is a lovely, bittersweet, poignant brief story of a life well-lived, of a full and rich life which had an impact – a positive impact – and which left a beautiful legacy. You can't ask for much more than that.
What do You think about Good-Bye, Mr. Chips (2004)?
Although the lazy curriculum-makers of intermediate studies in Pakistan have killed this book for generations of Pakistanis by keeping it in the curriculum for the past five decades, to those who truly love literature and don't confuse spouting the names of obscure books with 'reading', this one is a great delight. In the very datedness of the character and the environs it describes lies its principal charm. Each time I have read this book, I have shed copious tears, and to me, personally, that is the greatest tribute a reader can pay to a deeply moving piece of writing.
—Sabahat
This book was a very generous 2. The book had been hyped up for me quite a bit and some had even gone as far as to say that it was a life changing book. I myself found it a little less than inspirational. The setting of the book is hard to grasp today (this is clearly a result of when the book was first written and the lack of insight someone of today would have into education of the late 19th century and early 20th century in England) and I found myself pitying the main character more than being impressed by him. The only thing that I took away from the book was that this man did indeed have great dedication to his job leading essentially to his role as a deep rooted part of the institution.
—Adam
Seems to be many parallels to the date of publishing to the present. One would be how different generations evolve with those young and old, with each holding to their own beliefs and ideas. I thought it a poignant moment when Mr. Chips, in his later years, became filled with emotion to the point of tears. And that the then and the now are no different in this regard; a man's tears are still construed as weakness. I believe Mr. Hilton's prose delivered a contradiction to this perspective on the subject of weakness by demonstrating the value and strength Mr. Chips' character displayed. He showed strength to stand boldly on his beliefs knowing it went against the grain of society, he held the discipline to be true to self, and through wisdom and perspective became moved to share empathy with mankind. True cowardice is the fear to act, the fear to opinionate, to simply follow with no regard to morals/ethics and have others do your thinking for you. Mr. Chips' character, I found to be endearing.
—Travis
