Short story first published in The New Yorker, Nov. 14, 1942.
Mr. Martin, a man of exemplary habits, planned to murder Mrs. Barrows, the special adviser to the president of his firm. The woman had disrupted the system; caused people to be fired, and generally gotten the place into a state of confusion. His carefully laid plan to murder her didn't work out, but by visiting her apartment and behaving himself in an "unseemly" manner, as she reported to the president, he managed to get her out of the firm and possibly into an insane asylum.
Thurber 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.
Supposedly it's humorous, but frankly, I found it very dark! I think we're supposed to laugh at Mr. Martin's lack of ability to actually commit murder (he's wimpy, nervous, bungling), yet I didn't feel convinced that he couldn't do it. Maybe I've read too many Russian stories . . . or Camus . . . I mean the literature of nihilism and of the absurd, existentialist literature in general . . . it gives us reason to believe that at any given moment a person can choose to be other than what his patterns have been, out of the blue. Also, I wasn't convinced that Mr. Martin was necessarily as sane as everyone assumed he was . . . outwardly rigid behavior is not a guarantee of mental health, not by any stretch. Not to mention, in a frenzy of uncertainty sometimes people do things impulsively as a way to try to escape the pain of anxiety. Sometimes, for instance, a person burdened with the label of "orderly", "good", "obedient", "straight", "square", etc. might in one fell swoop of madness throw that all away . . . think of Milton in "Office Space" . . . he burns the office down. After all, Mr. Martin did in fact move forward with the plan of convincing everyone that Mrs. Barrows is insane -- which arguably points to the idea that he himself isn't as stable as outward appearance might lend itself to . . . and so if this is the case, theoretically he might also be unstable enough to have murdered her instead.
I'm wondering if it's because a lot has happened in the world since this story was published (1942) or if it's more just my personal idiosyncrasies that found this dark more so than humorous. Also, it makes indirect use of one of my favorite (yet also dreaded) psychological concepts, gaslighting. I say "indirect" because strictly speaking it's not gaslighting in this story, since Mr. Martin isn't trying to convince Mrs. Barrows that she's crazy; rather he's convincing others that she's crazy. Yet if you convince others that someone is crazy, that person herself is put into the vulnerable position of questioning her own sanity by virtue of the fact that she's taking up a stance toward herself that is invalidated by her peer group. This story to me is indeed loaded with some of the darkest aspects of psychopathology, and that overrides the humor.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
This short story was entertaining and suspenseful, with a surprise twist toward the end that leads to what many might feel is an unexpected but satisfying conclusion. But one can also take the alternate perspective that Mr. Martin is a diabolical criminal, sane on the surface yet pathologically evil to a woman who was sincerely being nice to him and just trying to do her job. I actually felt sorry for Ms. Barrows, who can be seen as a competent woman trying to get ahead in a man's world by increasing operational efficiency and modernizing the company. Though steadfastly loyal to her boss, her claims of impropriety are disregarded, and when she steps forward to tell the truth, she is accused of hysteria. Viewed through a modern, feminist lens, this looks like a classic case of the misogynistic victim blaming spotlighted by today's #MeToo and Time's Up movements.
It's been years since I've read this delightfully funny, warped short story, and it was great fun to read it again last night. Thurber's sense of humor is just perfect, and I found myself chuckling several times as I read it. (Actually, my husband and I read it together, and that was even more fun.) I could picture the antagonist, Mr. Martin, and the incredibly irritating antagonist, Mrs. Barrows, perfectly in my mind, and I sympathized with poor Mr. Martin's frustrations in his workplace. This may have been written over seventy years ago, but the humor was still fresh to me. (Maybe that's because I'm an old soul.)
I was hoping for perhaps a little bit more, but it was clever, amusing, and well-written. Definitely a little different as twists go. I just loved this quote opening the second paragraph: "It was just a week to the day since Mr. Martin had decided to rub out Mrs. Ulgine Barrows. The term "rub out" pleased him because it suggested nothing more than the correction of an error ‐‐"
I enjoyed this story, I wish I could remember the title of the collection it was in, there were some really good stories in it! I wish I could think of such a clever way to deal with workplace bullies.
I really liked this funny short piece. It was a movie I understand, but I never saw it. I have been a Thurber fan since high school and I like his off beat sense of humor story-telling. There's a good chance you will enjoy this very amusing tale.
Read this for English/Language Arts, and although it was a little confusing and rather strange, I enjoyed reading it, which is more than I can say for some of the other short stories that I have read.
I could see the humor that was meant but I did not laugh at the sad reality when men could easily accuse women of hysteria and lock them up in an asylum.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
The Catbird Seat is Thurber’s most surgical exploration of passive aggression elevated to existential theatre. Where his other stories revel in chaos, this one tightens into claustrophobic precision. The humour is icy, deliberate, and unsettling, exposing the violence latent in politeness.
The narrative voice is controlled to the point of menace. Every sentence feels measured, calibrated, withholding emotional excess. Thurber weaponises restraint, allowing obsession to masquerade as logic. The result is comedy that arrives slowly, often retrospectively, once the implications settle.
Thurber constructs his protagonist as an embodiment of order fetishised beyond humanity. Language becomes ritual; routine becomes morality.
The humour arises from this absolutism, where trivial disruptions are interpreted as existential threats. The story critiques how bureaucracy transforms preference into dogma.
Postmodern readings emphasise the instability of narrative authority. The protagonist’s certainty is internally coherent yet externally absurd. Thurber forces readers to question alignment: at what point does sympathy curdle into complicity?
The satire cuts sharply into corporate culture, long before its modern critiques. Efficiency, conformity, and civility become instruments of psychological warfare.
Thurber exposes how systems reward emotional suppression until it metastasises.
Unlike slapstick Thurber, this story denies release. Laughter arrives uneasily, shadowed by recognition. The comedy is not cleansing but accusatory, implicating the reader in structures of normalised hostility.
The Catbird Seat endures because it understands that cruelty need not be loud. Thurber transforms etiquette into threat, revealing how power often hides behind courtesy.
Esta historia refleja claramente hasta donde es capaz de llegar el machismo en el trabajo. Me gustó la astucia que mantiene la historia y la forma en la que desarrolla, aunque debo admitir que tuve conflicto con el final, pero es importante reconocer que no todas las historias tienen que tener un final feliz para ser buenas.
Mrs. Barrows en todo momento hizo su trabajo y lo mejor para la compañía, además su personalidad era adecuada para su posición laboral. Fue más que notorio que Martin detestaba el hecho de que una mujer supervisara su trabajo.
A pesar de todo es necesario admitir que Martin era un psicópata realmente inteligente, uno del que sin duda temería. Fue triste ver como al final la palabra de Martin por su sexo valió más que la de Mrs. Barrows, claro que se debe resaltar que tenía otras desventajas como la fama de que Martin no fumaba ni tomaba.
A pesar de todo, una historia muy entretenida.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
A man develops a misogynistic hatred for a female coworker and decides to kill her. When he goes to her apartment, he realizes that he can instead carry out a plot to get her fired by making her look crazy. This plot relies on his infallible maleness, which gives him greater credibility than a woman. By behaving terribly towards her, then denying it, she guarantees her own firing by simply stating the truth about his awful behavior. Man undoes woman via power and lies.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
A decent story that may take certain people a bit longer to understand. Other than this, the story has a great idea, an the main character, Mr. Martin's plan seems like he had been plotting it for 20 years, although it hasn't been 1.