Gargantua and Pantagruel.

Giants who drink whole rivers, mock-heroic wars, learned nonsense and belly laughs by the barrelful — François Rabelais's chronicle of Gargantua and his son Pantagruel is one of the most exuberant books ever written, a carnival of language and life.

What it's about

Gargantua and Pantagruel recounts the births, educations, travels and escapades of two giant princes, along with their companions — most memorably the roguish, quick-tongued Panurge. Across its several books the narrative careers from comic epic to philosophical debate to fantastical voyage, encompassing famous set-pieces on education, war, marriage and the search for wisdom. Plot is almost beside the point; the book advances by digression, catalogue and sheer verbal invention, piling up jokes, coined words, parodies and learned allusions with astonishing abundance.

Themes

Beneath the ribaldry lies a serious humanist vision: a faith in education, tolerance and the goodness of natural human appetite against pedantry, hypocrisy and cruelty. Rabelais satirises corrupt scholars, grasping clergy and needless warfare, and champions the free, well-nourished mind. The famous abbey of Thélème, with its rule "Do what thou wilt," crystallises his trust in the well-formed human being.

Why it still matters

Rabelais expanded what prose fiction could do, and his influence runs through Sterne, Joyce and every writer intoxicated by language. The word "Rabelaisian" survives to name a whole register of earthy, exuberant comedy. As a document of Renaissance humanism and as a still-hilarious performance, the book remains inexhaustible — dense, unruly and gloriously alive.

Who it's for

For readers who relish comic invention and linguistic play, students of the Renaissance and of satire, and anyone game for a big, boisterous classic that refuses to behave.