The Dog Department: James Thurber on Hounds, Scotties, and Talking Poodles

by James Thurber, Michael J. Rosen, Rosemary Thurber

"On the lawns and porches, and in the living rooms and backyards of my threescore years, there have been more dogs, written and drawn, real and imaginary, than I had guessed before I started this roundup." Here is James Thurber, arguably the greatest humorist of the twentieth century, on all things canine. In The Dog Department, Michael J. Rosen, a literary dogcatcher of sorts, has gathered together Thurber's best in show. Here we have the stylish prose and drawings from Thurber's Dogs (which connected the words "Thurber" and "Dog" as inseparably as "Bartlett" and "Quotation," as "Emily Post" and "Etiquette"), along with unpublished material from the Thurber archives, a great sheaf of uncollected cartoons, and two dozen "Talk of the Town" miniatures from The New Yorker — the consummate dog book from an artist of extraordinary pedigree. What other author can claim to have penned his own personal breed? The Thurber hound is a creature as unmistakable as Disney's mouse or Playboy's bunny. In The Dog Department you'll find standard poodles, Scottish terriers, an Airedale, a rough collie, an American Staffordshire terrier — all Thurber family members who inspired quintessential dog tales. For instance, there's Muggs, "the dog that bit people," an avocation that, each year, required Thurber's mother to send her famous chocolates to an ever-growing list of Muggs's victims. There's also a fair share about bloodhounds, German shepherd dogs, and pugs. But what you'll find remarkable and comforting is that reading Thurber from fifty or even seventy-five years ago is akin to reading about dogs today — or about dogs from the previous century, as Thurber grew up reading — or about dogs, we hope, from this new century we've just entered. The Dog Department is proof that Thurber's work defines the canine canon.

Genres: Nonfiction, Essays, Humor, Dogs

308 pages, Hardcover

First published April 1, 2001

About the author

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.

Reviews

[David · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book caught my eye in the public library the other day, and since Thurber is from Columbus (where I currently reside), and I used to love his work when I was young, I brought it home. For the drawings alone, I would give the book 5 stars, because his drawings of dogs are some of my favorites. But the book gets 3 stars from me, because it was not the great pleasure I'd hoped for. Don't get me wrong, some of the pieces in here are priceless. But the effect of pulling together everything he wrote about dogs is not the concentrated delight I was expecting. Instead, I was surprised to find that the whole was much less than its parts. And we are not talking about a long book: The type is huge, and there's a ton of white space, so I feel funny complaining about it being a chore to get through. But I guess that's the problem -- any one of these pieces, read on its own, would be charming. Next time, instead of checking it out, I'll read a few pages while I'm standing there, and put it back. Then I'll leave the library smiling.

[latinlil (Fitzy’s sitting next to me) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Anything by Thurber is worthwhile because he's such a joy. His deadpan, observational humor and quirky characters make him on par with the best wits and stand-ups that ever breathed.

We're a dog family, so I started here, but I'm moving on to his autobiography next. That's supposedly his magnum opus.

[Colleen · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thurber is hilarious and, for those who share his stealthily-sentimental view of dogs, heartwarming. I read many of the smaller stories aloud to my patient husband. For the longer stories, though, there seemed to be some repetition, which I'm blaming the editor for. Dog-matters aside, though, the editor does earn some props for providing illuminating notes about who some of the society figures from the '20s and '30s are, that were referenced by Thurber, and in that vein, it makes an interesting read, as well, to see what New York life held in that era for the dog-owning set.

[Leslie · Rating 4 out of 5]

A delightful book packed with amusing drawings and Thurber's anecdotes and essays about Dogs He Has Known and other dog-related topics. Thurber is equally compelling portraying the absurdity or nobility of his canine intimates.

If you are interested in dogs, or have ever loved a dog, you might enjoy this book.

[Connie D · Rating 3 out of 5]

While generally very enjoyable, as Thurber's works are, I found this collection of essays on dogs a little uneven. There were some snippets that absolutely made me laugh out loud, others that warranted a chuckle, and others that I just wanted to get through. If I had it to do over, I'd skip the ones that didn't strike me and savor the ones that did. 3.5 stars.

[Marianne · Rating 4 out of 5]

A delightful and insightful read by this beloved humorist who contributed so much the The New Yorker. It also doesn't hurt that dogs are one of my favorite topics.

[Kat · Rating 3 out of 5]

Charming essays on dogs.