The mappined life. Review on Collected Works of Saki, The - Saki

This is not a review of the Collected works of Saki. The reason why it is listed under this heading is because the short story that I am reviewing here, was part of this collection. The Mappined life is just another story in a collection of 130 others. Reading it along with the others, you would just breeze over it as with the other ones. Saki has a sharp incisive mind, a flair for prose that is almost poetic, a fine sense of humour that tends to lean towards sarcasm and he is a master of the surprise ending. You will laugh, you will enjoy the play of words and ...... go on to the next story.

That would be your first sitting. But as the introduction to the book says, Saki's stories are ''like dessert wine, you need to sip and savour them - taking them in one shot will lead to a literary dyspepsia.'' So you go back to them one at a time, and savour them slowly. This is what I was doing with the mappined life. It was during a period of time when I was introspecting and asking myself profound questions about my life, work and future. It was a period of life when I would have tried to read meaning into something as prosaic as a cow chewing its cud. Maybe thats the reason why this story affected me so. Maybe that was the reason why it turned out to be the final kick in the back that made me quit my job and go on my own. But since I cannot be sure, I am putting in this review. I could then find out for myself, if it was the story or if it was just me.

The mappined life is vintage Saki. It has humour, it provides an insight into our lives, it exposes the hypocricy in it, and most importantly - has an aunt to bash. It is not something that looks profound on the first sight, and I believe thats the greatest weakness in his writing.

The superlative humour tends to overshadow the depth of feeling and the rare insight into everyday life that only his genius can bring in. The language and tone of the story is at once

enticing -

''think of the crowded sensations of the brain when every rustle, every cry, every bent twig, and every whiff across the nostrils means something, something to do with life and death and dinner''

and provocative -

''we are able to live our unreal, stupid little lives on our particular Mappin terrace, and persuade ourselves that we really are untrammelled men and women leading a reasonable existence in a reasonable sphere.''

It brings out a facet of our live's in a manner that is direct, easy to understand and more importantly, that we can relate to. This review will not make sense reading, unless you read the story too. You can find the mappined life @ https://online-literature.com/hh-munro/1840/