Trilby sucks

It's illustrated by the author, and it's about his foot fetish, his waifu Trilby, and her feet

this dumb book is where the name for the hat comes from, how dissapointing

TRILBY CAN"T SING LOLOLOL, she's tone deaf

There's this guy named Svengali and the fact that he is jewish gets mentioned constantly unless the author or another character calls him Hebrew instead

And here let me say that these vicious imaginations of Svengali's, which look so tame in English print, sounded much more ghastly in French, pronounced with a Hebrew-German accent, and uttered in his hoarse, rasping, nasal, throaty rook's caw, his big yellow teeth baring themselves in a mongrel canine snarl, his heavy upper eyelids drooping over his insolent black eyes.

Besides which, as he played the lovely melody he would go through a ghoulish pantomime, as though he were taking stock of the different bones in her skeleton with greedy but discriminating approval. And when he came down to the feet, he was almost droll in the intensity of his terrible realism. But Trilby did not appreciate this exquisite fooling, and felt cold all over.

He seemed to her a dread, powerful demon, who, but for Taffy (who alone could hold him in check), oppressed and weighed on her like an incubus—and she dreamed of him oftener than she dreamed of Taffy, the Laird, or even Little Billee!

This is at the beginning of the book still, but he comes back and the end of the book to hyptonize Tribly and turn her into a mind controlled singing star who is the best female vocalist who ever lived

and it all feels really pointless because she did this melodramatic singy thing right as she dies and is barely conscious, but she doesn't really remember her other life

it's all weird and dumb and I feel worse off for speed reading it

Pauvre Trilby—la belle et bonne et chère!

Je suis son pied. Devine qui voudra

---and I thought I had found all instances of the wood "foot" or "feet" in this novel

Casts of her alabaster feet could be had at Brucciani's, in the Rue de la Souricière St. Denis. (He made a fortune.)

Monsieur Ingres had painted her left foot on the wall of a studio in the Place St. Anatole des Arts; and an eccentric Scotch milord (le Comte de Penpeepee) had bought the house containing the flat containing the > studio containing the wall on which it was painted, had had the house pulled down, and the wall framed and glazed and sent to his castle of Édimbourg.