Benchley Lost and Found

by Robert Benchley

Great humorist at his best 39 prodigal pieces never before collected, all from Liberty Magazine in the early 30s. Gentle, urbane wit aimed at taxes, horse racing, Europeans who live their own stereotypes, sand kicked in one s face at the beach, much more. Illustrations by Peter Arno.

Genres: Humor, Essays, Fiction

188 pages, Hardcover

First published June 1, 1970

About the author

Works, including How to Sleep , the film of 1935, and My Ten Years in a Quandary , the book of 1936, of Robert Charles Benchley, humorist, critic, and actor, often pitted an average American against the complexities of modern life.

People best knew Robert Charles Benchley as a newspaper columnist. He began at the Lampoon and meanwhile attended Harvard University and wrote many essays and articles for Vanity Fair and The New Yorker.
From New York City and his peers at the Algonquin Round Table, short style brought acclaim, respect, and success to Benchley to contemporaries in the burgeoning industry.

Benchley contributed best remembered influential topical or absurdist essays to The New Yorker. He also made a name in Hollywood, when his popular success won best short subject at the academy awards of 1935, and his many memorable appearances in such as Foreign Correspondent of Alfred Joseph Hitchcock and a dramatic turn in Nice Girl? . He wrote his legacy in numerous short appearances.

Reviews

[Ian Laird · Rating 3 out of 5]

Robert Benchley was a familiar figure to readers and cinema goers in the thirties and forties, a stalwart of the Algonquin Round Table, master of comic shorts, bibulous supporting player in Hollywood films and a witty columnist in the whimsical style of Jame Thurber.

Benchley is largely forgotten now, like many of his contemporaries, he belongs to an era now so long ago that the drollery has largely dated, but not completely. These thirty-nine columns appeared between 1930 and 1933 in Liberty, a popular magazine published from1924 to 1950, (does anyone remember Liberty?) Writing in the early thirties means he references the Depression, mass unemployment, public works programs, the New Deal and the impact of Mussolini on Italian society, especially the eating of spaghetti. There are frequent references to train travel, both commuter and continental, travelling by ocean liner, as well as five year plans, coal fired furnaces and mind-boggling facts as he speculates about what would be involved in the construction of the Hoover Dam:

So now that we have got that old Colorado River just chock full of concrete blocks right where it needs it most, we must look around for some place to sit down and rest…You can’t stand on the bank, as we have been doing, mixing concrete blocks and tossing them into the river, without making a frightful mess on the shores, what with donkey engines, concrete mixers, lemon peels and White Rock Bottles. What we shall have to do is put in a requisition, or petty-cash voucher, for a man to pick all these things up and cart them away, so that we can sit down and rest when we have finally got the dam built. (p199)

Yet there are also eerily familiar ageless concerns: a lamentation on the growing emasculation of stories for children; the hoopla of political conventions, including the mystery of how delegates get to be delegates and even though there are so many of them, how they always seem to be outnumbered by newspaper reporters; insurance scams; and new health fads like vitamins and dieting.

Apart from this continuing relevance, what is there to recommend reading Benchley still? The light touch with flights of fancy as in this sample from Ding-Dong School Bells, ruminating about back to school time:

Here they have been all summer, the rascals, tracking sand into the dining room, rolling Grandma about, and bringing in little playmates who have been exposed to mumps (when Daddy himself hasn’t had mumps yet, and mumps for Daddy would be no fun), and in all ways cheering up the Old Manse to the point of bursting it asunder. (p17)

Further on he suggests a substitute list of clothing requirements:

One sheet of note paper (with envelope to match) for letter home. This should do for the school year. Requests for money can be made by telegraph, collect.

Five hundred pairs of socks, one to be thrown away each day.

One hat in a hat box, the key of which will be left with the school principal for safekeeping until the end of the term. (pp19-20)

Interesting insight into how things used to be, and what was funny back then.

[Robert Stewart · Rating 3 out of 5]

I really enjoy Benchley's style, and appreciate his sensibilities. But the truth is, he just didn't put much work into these short magazine pieces. Some hit on a winning idea, and a few carry it to a satisfying conclusion. But a good many are obviously fluff pieces written 45 minutes before deadline.

[Leonard Pierce · Rating 5 out of 5]

There aren't a lot of people who are a bigger influence on my humor writing style than Robt. Benchley. This is the best collection of his stuff, including the insanely great "A Small Sermon On Success."

[Tania]

This was a fun look at essays from 1920s and 30s.

[Emily · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was delighted to find this little gem I'd never heard of before. Benchley is absolutely wonderful. He is one of those few laugh-out-loud funny authors and is fundamental reading for anyone who considers him/herself to be witty.

[Tosh]

I sort of base my "Tosh Talks" shows on his little movies.

[Norman Styers · Rating 4 out of 5]

Some of these have lost their shine with the passage of time, because they talk about everyday things that are no longer everyday (train schedules, for instance, seem to have been treated by comedians like airplane food is today). Still, it's Benchley.