"James Thurber was a comedic genius. His fables are not simply parodies of Aesop. They are wry, accurate, and powerful reflections of ourselves, our foibles, our follies, and, above all, our self-importance. And they are very, very funny." --Neil Gaiman
James Thurber has been called “one of the world’s greatest humorists” by Alistair Cooke (The Atlantic), and “one of our great American institutions” (Stanley Walker)—and few works reveal Thurber’s genius as powerfully as his fables. Perennially entertaining and astutely satirical, Thurber pinpricks the idiosyncrasies of life with verbal frivolity, hilarious insights, political shrewdness, and, of course, quirky, quotable morals.
Now, readers can savor 85 fables by the twentieth century’s preeminent humorist collected for the first time in a single anthology. Here, Fables for Our Time, Further Fables for Our Time, and ten previously uncollected fables—illustrated by ten contemporary artists including Seymour Chwast, Mark Ulriksen, Laurie Rosenwald, and R. O. Blechman—are presented in Collected Fables, a must-have for readers of all ages.
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.
The Moth and the Star moved me. The rest were perhaps not as memorable, but had enough fun and unexpectedness in them to cheer up a few winter evenings. They are also good stories to read aloud to others, and that adds just a little bit more warmth to these cold days.
Others may enjoy this book, but not I. I found the fables boring and flat. I did find it interesting that death seemed a very common ending but even that usually unexpected twist got old after a while. It should be noted that these fables aren't the usual ones that make you think, they seem more satirical though I admit that I felt I didn't understand the correlation between fable and moral most of the time.
This remarkable book of humorist James Thurber [1894-1961] begins with three introductory sections:
- A foreword by American commentator Keith Olbermann
- "A Fabulist of Our Time," by American writer Michael J. Rosen
- A preface by Thurber himself, dated March 30, 1956
Thurber's 85 fables are hilarious parodies of Aesop. The book brings together Thurber's Fables for Our Time (28), Further Fables for Our Time (47), and 10 previously uncollected fables. Each fable is illustrated with one or more cartoons. Many of the fables end with a "moral." For example, the moral of "The Foolhardy Mouse and the Cautious Cat" is: "Fools rush in where angels fear to tread, and the angels are all in Heaven, but few of the fools are dead."
In his preface, Thurber writes: "The human family, of which I am a sometimes reluctant, but often proud, member has always invited a story, resented a lecture, and yawned at a sermon … The definition of a fable shouldn't be cramped. It can embrace any pointed and recognizable aspect of human behavior, turned out in a concentrated narrative, with birds and beasts, or people or chimney posts, or anything else, including parts of the human body, talking away at a great rate."
Let me end my review with two example fables. The parody version of "Little Red Riding Hood" has the little girl taking an automatic out of her basket and shooting the wolf dead, right after she enters her grandmother's house. The moral of the story is: "It is not so easy to fool little girls nowadays as it used to be." In another fable, a smart fly avoids a spider web, answering the spider's invitation with, "I never light where I don't see other flies," before leaving. Later, the fly settles down on a flypaper, becoming stuck with all the other flies. The moral? "There is no safety in numbers, or in anything else."
Finished reading Collected Fables by James Thurber. I just recently discovered Thurber while reading a couple of other books and it piqued my curiosity when I realized that he also wrote The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. I really enjoyed that movie so I made it a point to delve into his writings. If you could imagine a cross between Aesop and Lemony Snicket, that's kind of what you get. But don't be mistaken, while they are fables - don't expect to be profoundly moved or wiser for the encounter. You're not supposed to be. His writings are brief, entertaining, and humorous. But, mostly eccentric. Which is what makes them so entertaining! The stories never take you where you think they will. I laughed out loud to many of these and will inevitably refer back them because of that. Most stories are 1-2 pages and are chock-full of Thurber's terrible drawings, which for some reason people love and some have even turned them into tattoos. He has a very interesting life story you should check into and apparently there is a museum or gallery somewhere in Ohio, I believe, where you can see some of his drawings on display. This book is 274 pages of light, easy reading and I am interested in reading more of his books and stories. Thurber is the kind of person I would want to be friends with.
How often does it happen that, when you request a book from the library consortium, what shows up is a never opened before paperback? That was this edition of Thurber's work, and the journey through his menagerie of fables didn't fail to match the pleasure in opening a perfectly fresh book. At least for the first quarter or so of the 200-some pages. One-page gems like "The Little Girl and the Wolf" and "The Two Turkeys" honor the best comedians for their humor and Aesop for their style, brevity and punchline closing morals. Through his touch with fables, Thurber knew how to subtly tweek the noses of the pompous, shine a spotlight on the worst of human nature, and re-write old wives tales with unexpected endings. After about a dozen of these witty pieces, though, the collection seems to peters out. Continue reading after page 50 or so if you like, but remember, you've been warned. On the other hand, don't skip Keith Olbermann's foreword.
I really enjoyed this humorous collection of very short parables, mostly featuring walking, talking animals that mirror human character and foibles. Written back in the 30s and 40s, some would have special political insinuations that I likely missed, but the political realm doesn't change that much.
There are some pretty good little fables in here. I didn't really "get" most of them, and there's foul language in several, but a handful or so I enjoyed quite a bit. My favorite is probably his retelling of Little Red Riding Hood. 😂