What do you think?
Rate this book
Lanterns and Lances
"I trust that this collection of pieces will prove that I have not become, at sixty-six going on fifty, as one friend of mine gallantly put it, completely 'lubugrious'. Many things, or rather people and ideas, are dealt with here in what I hope is a humorous vein, for, as I keep pointing out, humor in a living culture must not be put away in the attic with the flag, but should be flaunted, like the flag, bravely."
215 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1961
8 people are currently reading
281 people want to read
About the author
James Thurber
355 books605 followersThurber was born in Columbus, Ohio to Charles L. Thurber and Mary Agnes (Mame) Fisher Thurber. Both of his parents greatly influenced his work. His father, a sporadically employed clerk and minor politician who dreamed of being a lawyer or an actor, is said to have been the inspiration for the small, timid protagonist typical of many of his stories. Thurber described his mother as a "born comedienne" and "one of the finest comic talents I think I have ever known." She was a practical joker, on one occasion pretending to be crippled and attending a faith healer revival, only to jump up and proclaim herself healed.
Thurber had two brothers, William and Robert. Once, while playing a game of William Tell, his brother William shot James in the eye with an arrow. Because of the lack of medical technology, Thurber lost his eye. This injury would later cause him to be almost entirely blind. During his childhood he was unable to participate in sports and activities because of his injury, and instead developed a creative imagination, which he shared in his writings.
From 1913 to 1918, Thurber attended The Ohio State University, where he was a member of the Phi Kappa Psi Fraternity. He never graduated from the University because his poor eyesight prevented him from taking a mandatory ROTC course. In 1995 he was posthumously awarded a degree.
From 1918 to 1920, at the close of World War I, Thurber worked as a code clerk for the Department of State, first in Washington, D.C. and then at the American Embassy in Paris, France. After this Thurber returned to Columbus, where he began his writing career as a reporter for the Columbus Dispatch from 1921 to 1924. During part of this time, he reviewed current books, films, and plays in a weekly column called "Credos and Curios," a title that later would be given to a posthumous collection of his work. Thurber also returned to Paris in this period, where he wrote for the Chicago Tribune and other newspapers.
In 1925, he moved to Greenwich Village in New York City, getting a job as a reporter for the New York Evening Post. He joined the staff of The New Yorker in 1927 as an editor with the help of his friend and fellow New Yorker contributor, E.B. White. His career as a cartoonist began in 1930 when White found some of Thurber's drawings in a trash can and submitted them for publication. Thurber would contribute both his writings and his drawings to The New Yorker until the 1950s.
Thurber was married twice. In 1922, Thurber married Althea Adams. The marriage was troubled and ended in divorce in May 1935. Adams gave Thurber his only child, his daughter Rosemary. Thurber remarried in June, 1935 to Helen Wismer. His second marriage lasted until he died in 1961, at the age of 66, due to complications from pneumonia, which followed upon a stroke suffered at his home. His last words, aside from the repeated word "God," were "God bless... God damn," according to Helen Thurber.
Thurber had two brothers, William and Robert. Once, while playing a game of William Tell, his brother William shot James in the eye with an arrow. Because of the lack of medical technology, Thurber lost his eye. This injury would later cause him to be almost entirely blind. During his childhood he was unable to participate in sports and activities because of his injury, and instead developed a creative imagination, which he shared in his writings.
From 1913 to 1918, Thurber attended The Ohio State University, where he was a member of the Phi Kappa Psi Fraternity. He never graduated from the University because his poor eyesight prevented him from taking a mandatory ROTC course. In 1995 he was posthumously awarded a degree.
From 1918 to 1920, at the close of World War I, Thurber worked as a code clerk for the Department of State, first in Washington, D.C. and then at the American Embassy in Paris, France. After this Thurber returned to Columbus, where he began his writing career as a reporter for the Columbus Dispatch from 1921 to 1924. During part of this time, he reviewed current books, films, and plays in a weekly column called "Credos and Curios," a title that later would be given to a posthumous collection of his work. Thurber also returned to Paris in this period, where he wrote for the Chicago Tribune and other newspapers.
In 1925, he moved to Greenwich Village in New York City, getting a job as a reporter for the New York Evening Post. He joined the staff of The New Yorker in 1927 as an editor with the help of his friend and fellow New Yorker contributor, E.B. White. His career as a cartoonist began in 1930 when White found some of Thurber's drawings in a trash can and submitted them for publication. Thurber would contribute both his writings and his drawings to The New Yorker until the 1950s.
Thurber was married twice. In 1922, Thurber married Althea Adams. The marriage was troubled and ended in divorce in May 1935. Adams gave Thurber his only child, his daughter Rosemary. Thurber remarried in June, 1935 to Helen Wismer. His second marriage lasted until he died in 1961, at the age of 66, due to complications from pneumonia, which followed upon a stroke suffered at his home. His last words, aside from the repeated word "God," were "God bless... God damn," according to Helen Thurber.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 47 reviews
February 9, 2019
Buried in these enjoyable yet slightly bitter essays is a timely fable called “The Last Clock” about an ogre that eats clocks. Recommended for that story alone.
January 19, 2025
Ramblings of a very smart man. Each short essay seemed to have little to no point. I tried and tried to understand his thoughts, but almost never did. A part of the book I did love was his fascination with words themselves and the alphabet.
November 26, 2017
I am stunned to see that I have not yet reviewed this book but since I just finished another reading, I will go ahead and offer up my review. I was given this gift from a special soul, someone I consider my big brother because he knows that I am a Thurber junkie and have been since I first discovered A Thurber Carnival while in high school and I love the essays in this book. They feed my word lover self and make me so grateful that I am not alone with some of the bizarre thoughts that plague my brain where words, letters, and most people are concerned. I am intrigued by many of the reviews I read on this one. Yes, he is grumpy, yes, these were written in quite a different time, but most of what he has to say is timeless and I also appreciate the glimpse into a time now past. There is no way that I could offer up all of my favourite quotes from this book so I will just give you a few tastes of snarky as an art form.
"Critics like to call such a moment magic, but it is a word without sweat. Perfection, which achieves its end by labor, is better. The perfect tribute to perfection in comedy is not immediate laughter, but a curious and instantaneous tendency of the eyes to fill."
"A living language is an expanding language, to be sure, but care should take itself that the language does not crack like a dry stick in the process, leaving us all miserably muddling in a monstrous miasma of mindless and meaningless mumbling."
"The brain of our species is, as we know, made up largely of potassium, phosphorus, propaganda, and politics, with the result that how not to understand what should be clearer is becoming easier and easier for all of us."
"The restoration of Latin in our schools is not going to save Man from himself, to be sure, but it would help in the coming struggle for a world regime of sense and sanity."
"For such crude intruders I always carry a piece of complicated academic drollery, and I gave it to him: 'If you prefer 'I think, therefore I am' to 'Non sum qualis eram,' you are putting Descartes before Horace.'"
"The decline of humor and comedy in our time has had a multiplicity of causes, a principal one being the ideological beating they have taken from both the intellectual left and the political right...modern authors seem to have fallen for the fake argument that only tragedy is serious and has importance, whereas the truth is that comedy is just as important, and often more serious in its approach to truth, and, what few writers seem to realize or to admit, usually more difficult to write."
"Miss Hepburn is devoted to the great plays of Shakespeare, who didn't rise above his time, but merely above the ability of his contemporaries. He often wrote about a time worse than his own, such as the period of Macbeth. In that drama he would proclaim that life is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying many things."
"Not long ago a woman who was trapped in a New York subway fire, but managed to fight her way to safety, said, 'It was wonderful to see people and light.' An excellent combination, people and light. We ought to try to bring them together more often."
"Critics like to call such a moment magic, but it is a word without sweat. Perfection, which achieves its end by labor, is better. The perfect tribute to perfection in comedy is not immediate laughter, but a curious and instantaneous tendency of the eyes to fill."
"A living language is an expanding language, to be sure, but care should take itself that the language does not crack like a dry stick in the process, leaving us all miserably muddling in a monstrous miasma of mindless and meaningless mumbling."
"The brain of our species is, as we know, made up largely of potassium, phosphorus, propaganda, and politics, with the result that how not to understand what should be clearer is becoming easier and easier for all of us."
"The restoration of Latin in our schools is not going to save Man from himself, to be sure, but it would help in the coming struggle for a world regime of sense and sanity."
"For such crude intruders I always carry a piece of complicated academic drollery, and I gave it to him: 'If you prefer 'I think, therefore I am' to 'Non sum qualis eram,' you are putting Descartes before Horace.'"
"The decline of humor and comedy in our time has had a multiplicity of causes, a principal one being the ideological beating they have taken from both the intellectual left and the political right...modern authors seem to have fallen for the fake argument that only tragedy is serious and has importance, whereas the truth is that comedy is just as important, and often more serious in its approach to truth, and, what few writers seem to realize or to admit, usually more difficult to write."
"Miss Hepburn is devoted to the great plays of Shakespeare, who didn't rise above his time, but merely above the ability of his contemporaries. He often wrote about a time worse than his own, such as the period of Macbeth. In that drama he would proclaim that life is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying many things."
"Not long ago a woman who was trapped in a New York subway fire, but managed to fight her way to safety, said, 'It was wonderful to see people and light.' An excellent combination, people and light. We ought to try to bring them together more often."
April 26, 2019
More Lances than Lanterns. For context, Thurber says in his foreword (more like forewarned): “Much of what follows, therefore, is my own attempt, in my little corner of the struggle, to throw a few lantern beams here and there. But I also cast a few lances at the people and the ideas that have disturbed me, and I make no apology for their seriousness. Some were written in anger, which has become one of the necessary virtues, and, if there is a touch of “lubugrious” in certain pieces, the perceptive reader will also detect, I like to think, a basic and indestructible thread of hope.”
See what I mean? He’s a heck of writer, very precise, but also takes his time about getting to his point. That is to say, if you’ll indulge my humble opinion, he’s long winded! A bit of a gas bag. Loves hearing himself ruminate and postulate on life’s idiosyncrasies and idiots.
He’s also more than a bit misogynistic. Case in point, in essay 16, Come Across With the Facts he says of tiresome, inquisitive women he converses with at cocktail parties: “Let’s call all these ladies Mrs. Quibble, and put the thing in the past tense, before it drives me crazy.” Which he rationalizes later in essay 24, The Duchess and the Bugs, “I have heard from duchesses who suggest that I quit harping on the imaginary flaws of the American Woman and start writing a novel about her true power and glory. I reply that I may try to write such a novel - when my spirit has been broken by the American Woman’s power, or transfigured by her glory. Meanwhile, as my publishers know, I couldn’t do without her. ... If I have sometimes seemed to make fun of Woman, I assure you it has only been for the purpose of egging her on.”
So glad he cleared that up, how thoughtful. Nothing like another privileged white man with a condescending and belittling attitude to help advance women’s rights issues. Thanks for your support!
In spite of all the spitefulness in these essays, there are a few gems. The Last Clock and A Moment with Mandy were good fun reads and the latter softened the misogyny for a brief spell as Thurber almost concedes to let the young protege get the best of him, or at the very least serve as a worthy sparring partner in the war of words.
Thurber is adept with language and enjoys playing with letters, sound sequences, categories of words and the like. I should have found this much more engrossing but instead I found myself falling asleep on the couch. Not sure if this was the hour, the season, or the reading material.
An interesting foray into the musings of a humor writer from a different era, but not as engaging or enjoyable as I hoped.
See what I mean? He’s a heck of writer, very precise, but also takes his time about getting to his point. That is to say, if you’ll indulge my humble opinion, he’s long winded! A bit of a gas bag. Loves hearing himself ruminate and postulate on life’s idiosyncrasies and idiots.
He’s also more than a bit misogynistic. Case in point, in essay 16, Come Across With the Facts he says of tiresome, inquisitive women he converses with at cocktail parties: “Let’s call all these ladies Mrs. Quibble, and put the thing in the past tense, before it drives me crazy.” Which he rationalizes later in essay 24, The Duchess and the Bugs, “I have heard from duchesses who suggest that I quit harping on the imaginary flaws of the American Woman and start writing a novel about her true power and glory. I reply that I may try to write such a novel - when my spirit has been broken by the American Woman’s power, or transfigured by her glory. Meanwhile, as my publishers know, I couldn’t do without her. ... If I have sometimes seemed to make fun of Woman, I assure you it has only been for the purpose of egging her on.”
So glad he cleared that up, how thoughtful. Nothing like another privileged white man with a condescending and belittling attitude to help advance women’s rights issues. Thanks for your support!
In spite of all the spitefulness in these essays, there are a few gems. The Last Clock and A Moment with Mandy were good fun reads and the latter softened the misogyny for a brief spell as Thurber almost concedes to let the young protege get the best of him, or at the very least serve as a worthy sparring partner in the war of words.
Thurber is adept with language and enjoys playing with letters, sound sequences, categories of words and the like. I should have found this much more engrossing but instead I found myself falling asleep on the couch. Not sure if this was the hour, the season, or the reading material.
An interesting foray into the musings of a humor writer from a different era, but not as engaging or enjoyable as I hoped.
May 13, 2025
I had never heard of Thurber before reading this book, and perhaps this was not the best place to start on his works.
Thurber describes himself as a humorist, yet this late career collection of essays seems to have more meta discussions on comedy than actual humoristic writing. Despite this, there are passages which did make me laugh out loud. Many of his observations and ramblings remain relevant today. On the other hand, just as many of this collection's premises have aged poorly. As other reviewers have noted, the setup to many of his stories involves him being in a bar or at a cocktail party exercising his grand wit on a nameless woman.
The man's obsession with the English language and letters are somewhat endearing, but by the third or so essay that fixates on language, I found my eyes glazing over the bloviations. While it is clear he was an incredibly smart and talented man, I have to imagine he was a particularly tedious person to know. Few things are more punishing than a pretentious, drunk academic.
Despite the mostly negative review above, I generally enjoyed it for what it was. The essays though sometimes mundane, did not overstay their welcome. It was a good book for reading in spurts on my commute. I enjoyed his doodles that are peppered throughout the book too.
Thurber describes himself as a humorist, yet this late career collection of essays seems to have more meta discussions on comedy than actual humoristic writing. Despite this, there are passages which did make me laugh out loud. Many of his observations and ramblings remain relevant today. On the other hand, just as many of this collection's premises have aged poorly. As other reviewers have noted, the setup to many of his stories involves him being in a bar or at a cocktail party exercising his grand wit on a nameless woman.
The man's obsession with the English language and letters are somewhat endearing, but by the third or so essay that fixates on language, I found my eyes glazing over the bloviations. While it is clear he was an incredibly smart and talented man, I have to imagine he was a particularly tedious person to know. Few things are more punishing than a pretentious, drunk academic.
Despite the mostly negative review above, I generally enjoyed it for what it was. The essays though sometimes mundane, did not overstay their welcome. It was a good book for reading in spurts on my commute. I enjoyed his doodles that are peppered throughout the book too.
November 23, 2018
Most humor has a shelf life. Not all of it, of course. The plays of Aristophanes can still make you burst out laughing, as can some of Shakespeare’s madcap moments. Most of it, however, eventually moves from makes-you-laugh to makes-you-smile to this-is-just-dumb. Alas, Thurber has fallen into this category. His wry, indirect style does not appeal to people raised on in-your-face humor.
This is a collection of twenty-four of his pieces. Churning out words on demand to meet a deadline is hard work, and the ones here are an uneven lot. He has a penchant for word play, and many of the short essays in this book rely on puns and mischaracterization of words. You can always get some mileage out of the funny things babies say, or by emphasizing the weirdness of life and relationships. There are a few pieces that play on the battle of the sexes motif, which is probably what he is best known for these days. This is one of his last books, definitely not one of his best, and he comes across more as a curmudgeon than a humorist.
The people who love Thurber really love him, and he has many fans to this day. He sounds like he would be an entertaining dinner guest, but tiring as an everyday acquaintance, the guy who constantly complains about everyone and everything around him.
This is a collection of twenty-four of his pieces. Churning out words on demand to meet a deadline is hard work, and the ones here are an uneven lot. He has a penchant for word play, and many of the short essays in this book rely on puns and mischaracterization of words. You can always get some mileage out of the funny things babies say, or by emphasizing the weirdness of life and relationships. There are a few pieces that play on the battle of the sexes motif, which is probably what he is best known for these days. This is one of his last books, definitely not one of his best, and he comes across more as a curmudgeon than a humorist.
The people who love Thurber really love him, and he has many fans to this day. He sounds like he would be an entertaining dinner guest, but tiring as an everyday acquaintance, the guy who constantly complains about everyone and everything around him.
June 20, 2021
Helping a friend unload a box of books upon the library, I let this one slip out into the trunk of my car for later perusal. Everyone knows of James Thurber but how many people who weren't reading New Yorkers in the '40s and '50s have read him? Aside from an assigned reading in 9th grade, I hadn't. And I didn't this one...at least not for 5 years. Then, seeing that the rather dated paperboard cover (were paperboard book covers a thing at one time?) cracking and breaking off, more like a dropped dish than a worn airport romance, I decided it was at the very least time, if not past time to give this a go.
Read Thurber. I'm not sure I'd recommend reading 24 of his pieces in rapid succession, as I did, but read him because he is entertaining, humorous, personal and a remarkably gifted intellect. This reading will overwhelm you with language, with words, his fixation on understanding them, toying with them, fantasizing on them, and enumerating them innumerable times in a dizzying array of contexts.
But, while he's at it, he muses on art, literature, the theater, society and our humanness...or sometimes lack thereof. He's a refreshing thinker but I'd take his drink in small doses, something he apparently does not with his own.
Read Thurber. I'm not sure I'd recommend reading 24 of his pieces in rapid succession, as I did, but read him because he is entertaining, humorous, personal and a remarkably gifted intellect. This reading will overwhelm you with language, with words, his fixation on understanding them, toying with them, fantasizing on them, and enumerating them innumerable times in a dizzying array of contexts.
But, while he's at it, he muses on art, literature, the theater, society and our humanness...or sometimes lack thereof. He's a refreshing thinker but I'd take his drink in small doses, something he apparently does not with his own.
January 12, 2025
“Lanterns and Lances” is very late Thurber — his last work published in his lifetime — which means that he’s mostly preoccupied with being grumpy, in a very old-man, hey-kids-get-off-my-lawn fashion, and with words. The last is, in my opinion, the less interesting: most of “The Watchers of the Night”, for instance, is just a list of words that being with the letter p. Unexpectedly, there’s also a rather literary flavor to the collection, with an essay about Henry James, a long article about comedy, and a review of “My Fair Lady”. My favorite piece is the one that dwells most in the past, “My Senegalese Birds and Siamese Cats”. Not coincidentally, this is also the funniest piece in the collection: Thurber spends a fair amount of time in “Lanterns and Lances” defending comedy but seems less interested than ever in writing it. There are a few decent pieces — in addition to his pet reminiscences, I liked the Henry James essay, and there’s an amusing bit about how to entertain authors at parties — but this collection is far from essential.
July 25, 2021
"First published in 1961 and long out of print, here is the classic collection of Thurber essays, illustrated throughout with his line drawings, intended to throw a few lantern beams of humor into a world that badly needs it, and cast a few lances at people and ideas that disturbed the author as well as other right-thinking folks.
"Laughter infiltrates every page as, lance at the ready and lantern held high, Thurber charges the hosts of chaos and demonstrates that, evidence to the contrary not withstanding, people and the English language are still worth saving."
~~inside front cover
I was plowing through this book, doggedly, determinedly, and having arrived at page 68, realized that I hadn't laughed once. Or smiled. Which told me that either I had outgrown Thurber, or that his humor in this book was not up to his normal standards.
"Laughter infiltrates every page as, lance at the ready and lantern held high, Thurber charges the hosts of chaos and demonstrates that, evidence to the contrary not withstanding, people and the English language are still worth saving."
~~inside front cover
I was plowing through this book, doggedly, determinedly, and having arrived at page 68, realized that I hadn't laughed once. Or smiled. Which told me that either I had outgrown Thurber, or that his humor in this book was not up to his normal standards.
October 16, 2023
I had hoped that I would like a book of Thurber essays more. After all, he was the friend and contemporary of E.B. White, one of my favorite essayists. There was certainly plenty to like in the writing, but finishing the book felt like a real chore. Every entry felt the same. Thurber, or Thurber's stand-in, sits at the bar drinking a highball while some crackpot (almost always a woman) delivers some contrived setup for him to crush with a one-liner. Even when Thurber casts himself as the fool, it's obviously a hat he thinks looks good on him. Comedy ages worse than other genres of writing, so perhaps I am being too harsh, but this was a disappointing read.
December 30, 2019
If your idea of wit is roster lists of alliteration, you may enjoy this.
Here's an example of Thurber's writing from this book:
"The marvelous sixteenth letter of the alphabet is, to be sure, the country of predicament, plight, problem, perplexity, pickle, pretty pass, puzzle, pit, pitfall and palindrome."
I'll give you a "P" critique of this book: Primarily Pitiful.
This isn't so much wit as it is writing by referencing the dictionary.
Seek out Thurber's earlier work and cartoons instead.
Here's an example of Thurber's writing from this book:
"The marvelous sixteenth letter of the alphabet is, to be sure, the country of predicament, plight, problem, perplexity, pickle, pretty pass, puzzle, pit, pitfall and palindrome."
I'll give you a "P" critique of this book: Primarily Pitiful.
This isn't so much wit as it is writing by referencing the dictionary.
Seek out Thurber's earlier work and cartoons instead.
January 19, 2020
Thurber spends far too much of this book (about half) as a reactionary literary hack, lamenting the decline of contemporary vocabulary, grammar and pronunciation, denouncing Modern Humour as Not Funny, and saying that the Legitimate Theatre as Gone to the Dogs. The railings of an old man - ANY old man - on his last legs, and nothing more. If he had a useful point to make, I missed it.
But the rest has some elements of style, brilliance and originality, and he sometimes observes things that others do not. His take on children, though jaundiced, is all his own.
But the rest has some elements of style, brilliance and originality, and he sometimes observes things that others do not. His take on children, though jaundiced, is all his own.
February 1, 2021
I have always enjoyed reading Thurber, since my Dad introduced me to him. I was in the hospital at the time and to help pass the time he left me with a copy of "My Lie and Hard Times". As I read it I was laughing so hard two women passing by in the hall stopped to ask me what was so funny, I read them the passage I was on and they didn't get it. Tough, it was hilarious and it still is. I have been reading Thurber ever since and this book didn't disappoint in any way. His take on life is always clever and fresh.
June 3, 2022
If you want quality Thurber, go read "The Night the Bed Fell" from The Thurber Collection. Although ... I probably should re-read that before recommending it.
This collection is dated and has enough gender-based humor to make me uncomfortable. I picked up a couple of suggestions on mental gymnastics for fighting insomnia, though - glad to know I'm not the only person who does that sort of thing, although his style is different. Overall, though, not a collection worth reading in this day and age.
This collection is dated and has enough gender-based humor to make me uncomfortable. I picked up a couple of suggestions on mental gymnastics for fighting insomnia, though - glad to know I'm not the only person who does that sort of thing, although his style is different. Overall, though, not a collection worth reading in this day and age.
December 15, 2022
Lanterns and Lances, the third Thurber anthology that I've read recently, after having had them sit on my shelf, unread for many years. I found this one didn't quite measure up but was still largely enjoyable. Loved the wordplay in some of the essays, could've lived without the lengthy piece on Henry James and some of the other too-highbrow-for-me stuff. As I wrote in a brief review of one of the other anthologies, Nobody could quite capture absurdities or ludicrous pandemonium quite as well as Thurber, and unfortunately, there's too little of that here.
September 6, 2022
well, when I say I read it I didn't really, did I? I read about six of his self-satisfied little thumb-twiddles and then put the thing down, wondering if I, too, could get paid to twiddle my thumbs in the New Yorker. I did laugh a few times though.
I'm getting better at only reading bits of things.
I'm getting better at only reading bits of things.
December 10, 2024
A typically entertaining Thurber collection. Interestingly, these are pieces I have not encountered in my many years of enjoying Thurber's material, so this earns a place on my shelf of humorous writing. "The Tyranny of Trivia" and "The Watchers of the Night" share some of the same material, a very rare example of Thurber copying himself. I'll give him a pass, just this once.
September 26, 2025
Picked this up at my local library book sale, and it's been sitting on my shelf for a long time. After reading the reviews, followed the advice of the top review and read "The Last Clock." Very clever. Followed the advice of many of the other reviewers and didn't read the rest. Returning for the next book sale.
April 2, 2024
Unfortunately not very many standouts in this short story collection. Author really enjoys his own thoughts and there some misogynist aspects that to not stand the test of time. Bit of a struggle to get through if I’m honest.
November 18, 2017
These short essays by Thurber are mildly amusing, but never elicited a full chortle.
September 5, 2018
I particularly appreciated the 'Porcupines' essay (about writers' arguments), which included various possible combinations and justifications for meeting an animal listing criteria.
July 18, 2019
I enjoyed getting a bit deeper into the perspective of Thurber. Not as entertaining 'The Night the Bed Fell on Father', but revealing of his views on life and aging.
January 7, 2020
Thurber is a fantastic writer and wordsmith. He can write about basically nothing with such wit that I'll eat it up.
January 2, 2021
Funny stuff a little dated but still lots of fun word play
April 4, 2021
Delightful entertainment, with great humor, and surprising and challenging thought provocation. Absolutely relaxing bed-time reading...although Thurber might or might not agree!
October 29, 2023
A very clever book. Some of the stories were dull. But Thurber's genius is undeniable. Right when you think he's granted you access to his perspective he pulls the rug.
February 25, 2024
Equally witty, hilarious, and charming.
August 5, 2024
I have a lovely hard cover. Brookline Booksmith scoring. 1961 edition. Harper. No0157B on the d j
August 31, 2025
"There are no dogs where a man goes when a man goes to the dogs."
Displaying 1 - 30 of 47 reviews