Article #558-2 | Gutenberg Articles

Excerpt

Excerpt from The Thirty-Nine Steps, by John Buchan

I returned from the City about three o’clock on that May afternoon
pretty well disgusted with life. I had been three months in the Old
Country, and was fed up with it. If anyone had told me a year ago that
I would have been feeling like that I should have laughed at him; but
there was the fact. The weather made me liverish, the talk of the
ordinary Englishman made me sick. I couldn’t get enough exercise, and
the amusements of London seemed as flat as soda-water that has been
standing in the sun. “Richard Hannay,” I kept telling myself, “you have
got into the wrong ditch, my friend, and you had better climb out.”

It made me bite my lips to think of the plans I had been building up
those last years in Buluwayo. I had got my pile—not one of the big
ones, but good enough for me; and I had figured out all kinds of ways
of enjoying myself. My father had brought me out from Scotland at the
age of six, and I had never been home since; so England was a sort of
Arabian Nights to me, and I counted on stopping there for the rest of
my days.

But from the first I was disappointed with it. In about a week I was
tired of seeing sights, and in less than a month I had had enough of
restaurants and theatres and race-meetings. I had no real pal to go
about with, which probably explains things. Plenty of people invited me
to their houses, but they didn’t seem much interested in me. They would
fling me a question or two about South Africa, and then get on to their
own affairs. A lot of Imperialist ladies asked me to tea to meet
schoolmasters from New Zealand and editors from Vancouver, and that was
the dismalest business of all. Here was I, thirty-seven years old,
sound in wind and limb, with enough money to have a good time, yawning
my head off all day. I had just about settled to clear out and get back
to the veld, for I was the best bored man in the United Kingdom.

Explanation

**Detailed Explanation of the Excerpt from The Thirty-Nine Steps by John Buchan**

Context of the Source

The Thirty-Nine Steps (1915) is a classic adventure novel by Scottish author John Buchan, a key figure in the spy thriller and adventure fiction genres. The novel introduces Richard Hannay, a South African mining engineer of Scottish descent who becomes entangled in a German plot to steal British military secrets on the eve of World War I. The book is written in the first person, giving it an immediate, confessional tone, and is often considered a precursor to modern espionage fiction (influencing later works like those of Ian Fleming and Graham Greene).

This excerpt opens the novel, establishing Hannay’s restlessness, disillusionment, and sense of alienation in England—a country he had idealized but now finds stifling. His boredom and frustration set the stage for the sudden, violent disruption that propels him into the adventure: the murder of an American spy in his London flat, which forces Hannay to go on the run.

Themes in the Excerpt

Disillusionment & the Myth of the "Mother Country"
- Hannay, a colonial returnee, had romanticized England as an "Arabian Nights" fantasy—a land of endless possibility. However, reality fails to live up to his expectations.
- His boredom is not just personal but cultural: England, the heart of the British Empire, feels hollow to him. The "ordinary Englishman’s talk" makes him "sick," and the "amusements of London" are as "flat as soda-water left in the sun"—a metaphor for something once effervescent now gone stale.
- This reflects a broader post-colonial tension: Hannay, though Scottish by birth, was raised in South Africa and feels more at home in the veld (African grasslands) than in London. His alienation critiques the myth of imperial belonging—the idea that all British subjects share a natural bond with the "mother country."
Isolation & the Lack of Meaningful Connection
- Hannay has no "real pal"—despite being invited to social gatherings, he feels used as a novelty ("they’d fling me a question or two about South Africa"). The "Imperialist ladies" who host him do so to display colonial curiosities, not to form genuine relationships.
- His loneliness is existential: he has wealth, health, and freedom, yet he is "the best bored man in the United Kingdom." This foreshadows his later desire for purpose, which the adventure will provide.
Masculinity & the Need for Action
- Hannay is a man of action, used to the physical and mental challenges of life in Africa. London’s sedentary, superficial society emasculation him.
- His frustration ("I couldn’t get enough exercise") is both literal and symbolic—he craves physical exertion but also a meaningful struggle. The adventure that follows will restore his agency.
Imperialism & National Identity
- The novel was written during World War I, and Hannay’s disdain for England’s complacency mirrors Buchan’s own concerns about British unpreparedness for war.
- Hannay’s Scottish roots and African upbringing make him an outsider in England, yet his eventual patriotism (defending Britain against German spies) suggests that loyalty is earned through action, not birthright.

Literary Devices & Stylistic Choices

First-Person Narrative & Confessional Tone
- The immediate, conversational style ("Richard Hannay, you have got into the wrong ditch") creates intimacy with the reader, making Hannay’s frustrations feel personal.
- His self-deprecating humor ("the best bored man in the United Kingdom") lightens the tone but also underscores his genuine despair.
Metaphors & Similes
- "Flat as soda-water that has been standing in the sun" – London’s amusements, once exciting, have lost their fizz. This tactile metaphor conveys his disgust.
- "Wrong ditch" – Suggests he’s trapped in a rut, needing to escape. The word "ditch" also foreshadows the physical and moral trenches he’ll navigate later.
Irony & Foreshadowing
- Hannay’s boredom is ironic because the novel is an adventure story—his complaint about inaction sets up the frantic chase to come.
- His plan to return to the veld is interrupted by the spy’s murder, forcing him into a far more dangerous "adventure" than he bargained for.
Contrast Between Expectation & Reality
- Hannay expected England to be exciting ("Arabian Nights") but finds it dull and pretentious.
- The imperialist ladies’ teas (meant to celebrate the Empire) are "the dismalest business of all"—highlighting the hypocrisy of colonial nostalgia.
Repetition for Emphasis
- "I was fed up with it." / "I was tired of..." / "I had had enough..." – The accumulation of complaints builds his frustration to a breaking point, making his eventual flight from London feel inevitable.

Significance of the Passage

Establishes Hannay’s Character
- He is practical, restless, and self-aware—not a typical "hero" but an everyman thrust into extraordinary circumstances.
- His disillusionment makes him relatable; his later resourcefulness makes him admirable.
Sets Up the Adventure’s Catalyst
- Hannay’s boredom is the calm before the storm. The sudden violence (the murder in his flat) will jolt him into action, fulfilling his unspoken desire for purpose.
Reflects Post-War Anxieties (Despite Being Pre-War)
- Written in 1915, the novel captures British fears of complacency before WWI. Hannay’s critique of England’s stagnation mirrors Buchan’s warning about the need for vigilance.
- The spy plot reflects real German espionage concerns, making the novel both entertaining and propagandistic.
Influenced the Spy Thriller Genre
- Hannay is an early prototype of the "reluctant hero"—a man who stumbles into danger rather than seeks it out. This trope would later define characters like James Bond (in Fleming’s early works) and George Smiley (le Carré).
- The first-person, fast-paced narration became a staple of thriller writing.

Conclusion: Why This Excerpt Matters

This opening passage is more than just setup—it’s a character study in dissatisfaction. Hannay’s boredom is existential, reflecting a crisis of modern life: the search for meaning in a world that feels empty. His colonial outsider status adds depth, making him neither fully British nor fully African, but a man caught between worlds.

When the adventure begins, it’s not just a physical escape but a psychological one—Hannay finds purpose in danger, proving that action, not comfort, defines him. Buchan’s genius lies in making a spy thriller also a meditation on identity, empire, and the human need for challenge.

Would you like a deeper dive into any specific aspect, such as Buchan’s political views or how this compares to later spy fiction?

Questions

Question 1

The narrator’s description of London’s amusements as “flat as soda-water that has been standing in the sun” primarily serves to:

A. Illustrate his physiological aversion to carbonated beverages as a symptom of his liverish condition.
B. Convey the deflation of his romanticized expectations through a tactile metaphor of stagnation and lost vitality.
C. Critique the hygienic standards of Edwardian-era refreshments as emblematic of broader societal decay.
D. Establish his preference for the natural, unadulterated flavors of colonial life over artificial European indulgences.
E. Foreshadow his later discovery of a literal poisoned drink in the spy plot’s unfolding events.

Question 2

The narrator’s repeated assertions of boredom (“the best bored man in the United Kingdom”) function most significantly as:

A. A humorous exaggeration to endear himself to the reader through self-deprecation.
B. A critique of the leisure class’s inability to appreciate the cultural riches of London.
C. An indictment of British imperial policy for failing to provide meaningful roles for returning colonists.
D. A narrative device to heighten the contrast between his current stasis and the impending disruption of adventure.
E. A psychological defense mechanism to rationalize his social isolation and lack of deep connections.

Question 3

The “Imperialist ladies” who invite the narrator to tea to meet “schoolmasters from New Zealand and editors from Vancouver” are portrayed as:

A. Genuinely cosmopolitan figures attempting to bridge colonial and metropolitan divides.
B. Well-meaning but naïve patrons of empire unaware of the superficiality of their gatherings.
C. Satirical caricatures of feminist activism in the early 20th century.
D. Symbols of the performative and hollow nature of imperial nostalgia in Edwardian society.
E. Foils to the narrator’s rugged individualism, highlighting his discomfort with intellectual discourse.

Question 4

The passage’s opening sentence—“I returned from the City about three o’clock on that May afternoon pretty well disgusted with life”—is structurally significant because it:

A. Immediates immerses the reader in the narrator’s subjective discontent, foreshadowing the personal stakes of the impending narrative.
B. Establishes a precise temporal and spatial framework to ground the subsequent psychological reflections in realism.
C. Contrasts the bustling activity of the City with the narrator’s inertia, underscoring his alienation from urban life.
D. Introduces a motif of time (“three o’clock,” “May afternoon”) that will recur as a symbol of fleeting opportunity.
E. Mirrors the opening lines of contemporary modernist works, signaling the novel’s literary ambition beyond mere adventure.

Question 5

The narrator’s decision to “clear out and get back to the veld” is most fundamentally motivated by:

A. A rejection of British cultural hegemony in favor of a postcolonial African identity.
B. The practical recognition that his financial resources would stretch further in South Africa.
C. A desire to reclaim the physical exertion and masculinity he associates with colonial life.
D. The belief that the veld’s vastness will provide the solitude necessary for introspection and self-discovery.
E. An unconscious yearning for the familiar as a refuge from the cognitive dissonance of unmet expectations.

Solutions and Explanations

1) Correct answer: B

Why B is most correct: The metaphor of soda-water “standing in the sun” evokes a loss of effervescence—a once-vibrant experience now stale and lifeless. This aligns with the narrator’s disillusionment upon returning to England, where his romanticized expectations (“Arabian Nights”) collide with the banal reality of London. The tactile quality of the metaphor (flatness, warmth) reinforces the visceral nature of his disappointment, making it more than a mere abstract complaint. The passage hinges on this gap between myth and reality, and the metaphor encapsulates that thematic tension.