Sidney Joseph Perelman, almost always known as S. J. Perelman, was a Jewish-American humorist, author, and screenwriter. He is best known for his humorous short pieces written over many years for The New Yorker. He also wrote for several other magazines, as well as books, scripts, and screenplays.
Perelman doesn't seem to have survived too well into the modern era, certainly compared to, say, Thurber, another humorist who wrote for the New Yorker, and it's easy to see why not: he's not as good of a writer, and partly as a consequence he tends to be very much of his time. His subjects are often books, movies, or even advertisements that are now totally forgotten, and he generally assumes a knowledge of the culture of the '40s (this book was published in 1944) and '50s that today's readers probably don't have. That said, he can very funny: it's not necessary to be familiar with the works he's making fun of, or the Hollywood or New York literary scenes of the time, to laugh at the jokes, his little plays are great, and his self-caricature as a self-important, petulant fool is very sharp. If you've never read any Perelman before, it's probably better to start with one of the more focused collections, say "Acres and Pains" or "Westward Ha!", but if you already know and like him this collection certainly won't disappoint you.
I got turned on to Perelman's hilarious, absurd and quirky writings when I was a teenager, so I can say he's been a lifelong addiction. I have to stop and laugh when you read him. So, I stop and laugh. You can see his influence on Groucho Marx, Woody Allen and George Saunders, among many others. He sets up an improbable situation, and then makes it even more improbable. At this point in time, his subject matter, social references and "slow" complicated sentences will probably feel out-of-date for most readers, but he makes you laugh not just during reading, but afterwards, too. Very funny stuff.
S. J. Perelman is the writer Woody Allen would be if Allen were less of an egomaniac and a more elegant wordsmith. Perelman's Dostoyevsky parody, "A Farewell to Omsk," made me laugh so hard I cried.
Very goofy mid-century comedy, often absurdist, sometimes parody/pastiche, and occasionally almost indecipherable! Perhaps not surprisingly it was a positive review in Commentary that led me to this book. I guess it was enjoyable, and I guess I'm glad I read it, but I can't imagine making my way through another volume of this stuff.
Perelman himself was an interesting fellow. It's worth looking him up--he's almost totally forgotten these days.
Read this first many years ago. It was hilarious then and it's hilarious still. The man was reportedly not personally charming but he certainly was a great writer.
SJ Perelman's works lose a bit of steam when they're written as mini-plays. His reviews of magazines, however, are exquisite and intelligently funny. 'A Farewell to Omsk,' in particular, was brilliant: it parodies Dostoevsky's works and characters, from their repetitious names (Rodion Romanovich) to the 'noble prostitute' found in his major opuses. 'Somewhere a Roscoe ... ' makes fun of detective pulp fiction admirably, and 'Beauty and the Bee' juxtaposes a bee journal with a lingerie magazine.
It took me supreme effort to read this work, because Perelman is at master with the legerdemain of words. His writing is occasionally as dense as it is allusive, so it takes a wide vocabulary in order to appreciate his highbrow humor. There's a reason why humorists nowadays are more of the slapstick than the literary variety: intelligence among people is in a persistent, tragic declivity. Although some of the topical humor has aged poorly, his literary critiques remain to be sharp, mordant, and extremely witty. To me, he's even better than James Thurber.
another collection of New Yorker humor pieces from S.J. Perelman. I enjoyed this book a little more than his later one, Baby, It's Cold Inside. Perelman’s gift for wordplay and flights of fancy are absurdly madcap, and many of his jokes made me laugh aloud. Of course, his subjects are dated and too often I felt the pieces lacked cohesion. But it was funny, light reading for the most part.
This sounds like utterly drugged up nonsense - Kind of like Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up To Me - which I read in the 60's and cannot remember the name of the author. It is hilarious. I found myself laughing out loud many time in the first half hour of reading. Some of it is so obtuse I need an annotated version to "get" it.
Early Perelman pieces, and none the worse for that, although in many places the master has not learned to tame his imagination, and individual pieces can spiral out of control in a flood of free association. Still, you'll laugh aloud.
cherishable new yorker-style wit, wordplay, and sardoncism to the nth degree, but a bit dated now and somewhat smug, and only occasionally actually funny.