He still went about his business with an alacrity marvellous in one who was so soon about to withdraw himself from the world. A full year would, no doubt, suffice for him to arrange his worldly affairs, and to see his daughter married but it would not more than suffice. It was now mid-winter, and it wanted just twelve months to that 30th of June on which, in accordance with all our plans, Crasweller was to be deposited. I believe this is the only Trollope novel written in the first person: it is very effective.Previous Chapter Next Chapter Chapter III - The First Break-Down

Seeing these from the first-person viewpoint, watching how Neverbend tries to resolve common-sense and friendship with his convictions, is a fascinating process.

Male stubbornness is a Trollope speciality, of course, and we have the inevitable scenes where Neverbend has to submit to bedtime lectures from his wife, just like Grantly, Proudie and all the rest. On the other hand, there's a lot of rather unfortunately-prescient reference to crematorium ovens, invoking quite a different set of associations.What makes it especially Trollopean is the way the story is tied to the viewpoint of President Neverbend, a reasonable, humane man, but stubborn in his conviction that the Fixed Period will be the salvation of mankind, if he can only get beyond the purely domestic problem that the first person to be killed is his best friend, the father of the girl his son wants to marry. Throw in a few pirates and some bridesmaids, and we've practically got a full set of G&S choruses. The silly plot and the little futuristic touches (cricket matches with steam-powered catapults, etc.) would have been ideal for a G&S operetta: apart from cricketers, we also get various peers and the Royal Navy. Everything goes very smoothly, until they get to the point when the first person should be 'deposited' in the new college prior to the humane ending of his life. It's obviously meant to be alluding to things like Gulliver's travels, Erewhon and More's Utopia, but the scenario calls W.S Gilbert to mind much more readily than Swift: The government of the young republic has enacted a rational, benevolent and enlightened new law that imposes compulsory euthanasia on everyone who reaches the age of 68 (Trollope was 67 when he wrote this!). Not quite what you would expect from Trollope: this late work is a satirical fantasy, set 100 years in the future (1979-1980!) in an imaginary former British colony in the South Pacific.

The fixed period trollope