I started volunteering at a James Thurber museum a few years ago. I regularly give visitors tours of the home that he and his family lived in when he was enrolled in college. And I really like the well-researched tour I deliver. I’ve crafted it over the years into something I, at least, find engaging and interesting. But I’m always looking for more information, so I finally bought Harrison Kinney’s definitive thousand-page Thurber biography. And boy, is it exhaustive. It begins in 1799 (nearly 100 years after Thurber was born), when Thurber’s great-great-grandfather moves to Ohio. It ends, basically, two centuries later, three decades after James’s death, when Kinney is still interviewing people who had known Thurber. It includes more anecdotes than you know what to do with. More than Kinney knew what to do with, it seems. Kinney describes summer get-togethers Thurber had with friends—probably a fun time, but not adding anything of substance to the story of one’s life. Kinney devotes not just lines or paragraphs but often an entire page or two to several brief, pointless anecdotes. One full chapter describes some of the pranks James played on friends. I don’t blame Kinney for including everything, but I also would’ve preferred it if he had killed some of his darlings. When he begins to speculate about James’s paternal grandfather, in the absence of verifiable facts, you wonder whether a grandpa James didn’t even know is important enough to include in the first place. His chapters about the New Yorker (admittedly an important part of Thurber’s life story—probably the most important part) add very little that wasn’t included in Thurber’s own book “My Years With Ross” about the magazine’s editor-in-chief. (If it does add something, it’s clarifying misleading items Thurber included in his account…but the book also frequently falls for Thurber’s tall tales, and includes so many unlikely anecdotes that they couldn’t possibly have all been true.) One begins to wonder whether even a Thurber diehard wouldn’t begin to flip pages when the writing begins to drag. Kinney also bounces around the timeline in order to stay on a subject. An early chapter about James’s father mentions James’s second wife, even before we knew about his first. A chapter ostensibly about James’s early life devolves into a full biography of his brother William. I knew enough already to follow along, but I wouldn’t be surprised if a newcomer found the biography completely inaccessible. I learned a lot, but I had the feeling afterward that, armed with all the same information, I could’ve crafted a more comprehendible story of James Thurber’s life (and probably in a book that didn’t weigh twenty pounds). But, at the end of the day, when all is said and done, you’ll never learn more about James Thurber than you will reading this biography. And isn’t that the point?
9/10