Backward Ran Sentences: The Best of Wolcott Gibbs from The New Yorker

by Wolcott Gibbs, Thomas Vinciguerra (Editor), P.J. O'Rourke (Introduction)

"Maybe he doesn't like anything, but he can do everything," New Yorker editor Harold Ross once said of the magazine's brilliantly sardonic theater critic Wolcott Gibbs. And, for over thirty years at the magazine, Gibbs did do just about everything. He turned out fiction and nonfiction, profiles and parodies, filled columns in "The Talk of the Town" and "Notes and Comment," covered books, movies, nightlife, and, of course, the theater. A friend of the Algonquin Round Table, Gibbs was renowned for his humor. (Perhaps his most enduring line is from a profile of Henry Luce, parodying Time magazine's house style: "Backward ran sentences until reeled the mind.")

In his day, Gibbs was equal in stature to E. B. White and James Thurber, but he is little read today. In Backward Ran Sentences, journalist Thomas Vinciguerra provides a biographical sketch of Gibbs and gathers a generous sampling of his finest work across an impressive range of genres, bringing a brilliant, multitalented writer of incomparable wit to a new age of readers.

Praise for Wolcott Gibbs:

"His style had brilliance that was never flashy, he was self-critical as well as critical, and he had absolute pitch, which enabled him to become a parodist of the first rank."-E. B. White, New Yorker, 1958

Genres: Essays, Nonfiction, Journalism, Criticism, Humor

688 pages, Paperback

First published September 27, 2011

Reviews

[Buck · Rating 3 out of 5]

I abhor whimsy. I abominate it. Sarcasm may be cheap, but whimsy is just plain lazy. It risks nothing. Like the prettiest girl at the prom, it just sort of stands there waiting to be admired. (If you’re not sure what I mean by whimsy—defined as 'quaint and fanciful humor'—just think of Dave Barry, whose desperate hamming is appallingly whimsical. A local example might be the GR meme of 'celebrity death matches', which many intelligent friends of mine seem to find irresistibly hilarious, but which only leave me saddened and perplexed.)

The classic New Yorker writers are all tainted with whimsy in my eyes, from the avuncular whimsy of White and Thurber right through to the avant-garde whimsy of Donald Barthelme. Even fat, ironical old A.J. Liebling, whom I adore, can get a little too ‘quaint and fanciful’ for my liking.

I don’t know if Wolcott Gibbs is whimsical to quite the same degree as his colleagues, but his work is definitely permeated by that old-timey, New Yorker ambience: a bit arch, a bit amused, a bit suburban in spite of everything. For a sour, misanthropic drunk, Gibbs wrote his share of luminous sentences, but most of them are buried away in profiles of forgotten celebrities or reviews of forgotten plays. You have to hack through a lot of period detail to get at them. He’d have hated me for saying this, but I think his talent comes out best in his Talk of the Town pieces, which he seems to have dashed off with prima donna-ish contempt. They compress more wit and style into two or three paragraphs than most magazines these days manage to get into an entire issue.

Cursed with versatility, Gibbs never quite found the right genre for his particular gifts, possibly because it hadn’t been invented yet (he’d have made a blogger of genius, and I say that with no disrespect). Instead, he lived out an almost ideally miserable, mid-century literary life, beset by alcoholism, divorce, and mental illness, followed by a lonely death on Fire Island and posthumous obscurity. This book should help to redress that last misfortune, if nothing else.

[Kathy · Rating 4 out of 5]

This unwieldy chunk of a book is the closest thing to a 5-star read I've picked up in the last three years. Its contents--celebrity profiles, literary parodies, Broadway reviews, family anecdotes disguised as fiction--prove there is a great deal of truth in the old saying that the best humor is written by deeply unhappy people.

Oliver Wolcott Gibbs' life (succinctly described in the introduction by editor Thomas Vinciguerra) was marked by alcoholism, poor spur-of-the-moment decisions, and the tragic deaths of people close to him. These never seemed to affect the quality of his work: if anything, they spurred him on to greater effort. Gibbs was a master of the unexpected observation, the well-chosen adjective, the cheerful bon mot that somehow slips a dagger between its subject's ribs. His occasional rhapsodic reviews seem almost to be the work of a different person. He had a particular fondness for deflating men and women who were legends in their own minds: William Saroyan and Gibbs' former New Yorker co-worker Alexander Woollcott come in for special attention. In the latter case he may have recognized something of his subject in himself: Vera Caspary and the Hollywood adapters of her novel Laura certainly did, combining characteristics from the two Wo(ol)lcotts in the person of waspish columnist Waldo Lydecker.

Theodore Roosevelt's daughter Alice Longworth is said to have once told a fellow party-goer, "If you can't say anything nice about someone...come right over and sit by me." This is precisely how I feel about Wolcott Gibbs. He's observant, he's catty, he's cruel, and I hang on his every word. Read a few sample pieces from Backward Ran Sentences and see if you don't agree.

[Kelly Knapp · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book is an amazing example of what a journalist should aspire to be. His prose is smooth, articulate, educated, and thoughtful. This book spans a variety of subjects from various sections of the magazine. He was both critical of other writers and of himself. In style with his way of writing, I will keep this short and to the point. Backward Ran Sentences is an exceptional collection of writings from an exquisite writer.

If you are hesitant to choose this book because of its thickness, each story or column is short and self-contained. It is a perfect edition to the shelf next to the bathroom throne, for the reader who snatches a few minutes,, while otherwise indisposed.

It probably deserves a rating of 5 stars. However, Gibb's writings are specific to the 1920-1950s eras. Whereas I am a babyboomer, so there was a great number of his writings specific to events happening with which I have no context. I could enjoy the Gibb's style but there was something missing when I couldn't connect it to a specific event.

Finally, I would love to see our current journalists, reporters, and diarists aspire to Gibb's 31 rules of writing. If they did, more people would read the news.

I received this as part of the Goodreads First Reads Program.

[Martin Jost · Rating 4 out of 5]

»For more than three years we have been watching a very bothersome and heroic struggle in the publishing world—Life magazine trying to figure out a way to print a picture of a living, breathing woman with absolutely no clothes on. The especial problem of Life, of course, is that everything in it has to have the air of a respectable, high-minded commentary on America. Life, that is, can’t publish a picture of a woman undressed over the caption “Woman Undressed.” It has to Say Something. We are glad to be able to tell you that in their issue of February 12th, after years of frustration and seventeen million angle shots that almost got there but not quite, the editors have finally seen the answer. Like all truly great things, it was simple. They merely photographed a life class a the Yale Art School. This had Yale, it had Class, it had America; it had everything, including no clothes on. It was Life’s dream come true—a girl who had shucked (and no fooling) but had done it for her country. It was a tremendous relief to us. And a very interesting picture, too.«

—Wolcott Gibbs & E.B. White. The New Yorker March 2, 1940

[Cynthia K · Rating 1 out of 5]

The forward to this book was absolutely essential. Without the back story, without someone explaining the context, this collection would have been meaningless to me. In fact, I'm having a rough time working my way through the book. It's not that Gibbs wasn't a good writer, it is more that I still lack an understanding of the time, place and circumstances in which he wrote. There are many references to people, places and happenings that I don't know about, so I feel like I'm missing the depths of Gibbs writing. I'll keep trying to work my way through, but it is going to be slow going.

I think it is time for me to pass the book along to someone else. I just can't get into the essays. I can't relate to the times or society about which Mr. Gibbs is writing.

[Lauren Albert · Rating 4 out of 5]

[on Thomas Dewey’s mustache] “It turned out to be a dream—bushy, dramatic, an italicized swearword in a dull sentence.” 165

Do I really need to say more to get you to read the book? I laughed through a lot of it. I didn't love his short stories and the parodies made no sense to me since I didn't know the originals he was parodying, but his essays were wonderful, particularly his profiles.

To add to this is the bonus that his theater reviews were spot-on. He liked all the serious drama that we now think of as classic. Of course, as theater critic for the New Yorker, he might well be the reason we think of these as classic.

I also agreed with his assessments as to which Broadway musicals were great and which were just "fun." Not that he had anything against fun.

[Dave · Rating 3 out of 5]

I'm liking this so far--good New Yorker writing--not as hilarious or skilled as Thurber or as elegant and rich as E.B White's, but quite nice. I very much like the "Notes and Comment" from the beginning of WWII. But the book is quite long--not in the mood to keep reading until I sicken of it. I'll get back to it.

[Trish Graboske · Rating 2 out of 5]

Not a likeable guy, and he references characters of the 1930s who now are mostly forgotten, but he can write! Slog toward the second half of the 667 pages, and the subjects get more interesting, including the Broadway reviews. And the parody of Hemingway is inspired.

[Abc]

I won this book in a giveaway. Thank you.

[Louise Walsh · Rating 4 out of 5]

An okay book, not my kind of read, but still interesting.


*Won on GoodReads First reads*