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Collecting Himself: James Thurber on Writing and Writers, Humor & Himself
A glorious new collection of James Thurber's vintage writings--none of which have appeared in book form before. And, an added bonus of 40 Thurber drawings.
263 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1989
29 people are currently reading
87 people want to read
About the author
James Thurber
349 books602 followersThurber 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.
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.
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Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews
June 4, 2017
For the general reader the posthumous publication of favorite writers incomplete work may leave you wistfully wishing the author could've lived just a little longer. The incomplete 21st Aubrey Maturin novel by Patrick O'Brian and the collected pieces published under the name: The Salmon of Doubt by Douglas Adams are two examples. Collecting Himself: James Thurber on Writing and Writers, Humor and Himself; edited by Michael J Rosen is not one of those books. If you are new to James Thurber please skip this book. If you are looking for a typical whimsical collection of the usually gentle James Thurber this is not it. If you are a James Thurber scholar and determined to have everything he ever wrote there are many fine examples of James Thurber as a serious as well as a satirical author in this collection. My sense is that the editor/author Michael Rosen in choosing to call this book Collecting Himself brought together pieces James Thurber would never have placed in one cover and a few pieces he never intended for publication.
Among the things that are very good in this book are some serious and semiserious essays about literature and the theater. There is a very friendly essay about Groucho Marx which is worth reading. There is a reply he wrote to a John Steinbeck editor who objected to Thurber sharp criticism. Thurber stands his ground and reinforces the depth of his outrage with a beautiful concluding remark. His earlier review was described as a slap in the face to John Steinbeck. Thurber "apologizes" for the slap in the face with the comment:" I did not know my hand was open".
All the pieces do not read as well. There is a brilliant satire of Henry James which goes on too long. There is rewrite of the night before Christmas in the style of earnest Hemingway that is very clever but again goes on to long. I count myself a fan of James Thurber cartoons but I did not find any included in this volume funny. And so it goes. There are some individual selections that are insightful some that are funny and others that may have served some point at the time they were published but I regarded them as a waste.
Learning that James Thurber could write thoughtful and even the learned essays came as a pleasant surprise. Some of the lighter pieces did bring a smile to my face. Overall my recommendation is that there are other books by James Thurber that better represent what he wished to be collected and published in a single cover.
Among the things that are very good in this book are some serious and semiserious essays about literature and the theater. There is a very friendly essay about Groucho Marx which is worth reading. There is a reply he wrote to a John Steinbeck editor who objected to Thurber sharp criticism. Thurber stands his ground and reinforces the depth of his outrage with a beautiful concluding remark. His earlier review was described as a slap in the face to John Steinbeck. Thurber "apologizes" for the slap in the face with the comment:" I did not know my hand was open".
All the pieces do not read as well. There is a brilliant satire of Henry James which goes on too long. There is rewrite of the night before Christmas in the style of earnest Hemingway that is very clever but again goes on to long. I count myself a fan of James Thurber cartoons but I did not find any included in this volume funny. And so it goes. There are some individual selections that are insightful some that are funny and others that may have served some point at the time they were published but I regarded them as a waste.
Learning that James Thurber could write thoughtful and even the learned essays came as a pleasant surprise. Some of the lighter pieces did bring a smile to my face. Overall my recommendation is that there are other books by James Thurber that better represent what he wished to be collected and published in a single cover.
June 4, 2012
I bought this book in '91 and just read it. I am a real fan of James Thurber. I have most of his works. I thoroughly enjoyed the book. The parts I liked least were the reviews of plays. I have always liked Thurber's drawings and short pieces and his connection with E.B White and The New Yorker magazine. If you are a Thurber fan, you will enjoy this book.
August 6, 2024
James Thurber has been one of my favorite writers for many years. When I was quite young I ran across his work in the library, and learned he lived in Connecticut -- my home state. I wanted to meet him, but I was only 11 so there was no way I could get up to West Cornwall on my own. He died shortly thereafter. But my admiration for his work continued. He write two of the funniest pieces I've ever read, "The Night the Bed Fell," and "The Night the Ghost Got In." Plus many others, of course. Over the years I have read most of his oeuvre, and I even acted in a high school presentation of A THURBER CARNIVAL, in which I played Walter Mitty and other characters. This book collects a lot of things that have never appeared in print (aside from their original publication), including essays, reviews, cartoons, and what-not. In real life, he was apparently a cranky guy, but on the page he's delightful. If you're a Thurber fan, you won't want to miss this.
February 16, 2022
I generally enjoy these sorts of odds-and-ends collections. Like others of the type, this one has some good stuff mixed in with the mediocre stuff. As REM guitarist Peter Buck said of REM's outtakes compilation, "Dead Letter Office": "Listening to this album should be like browsing through a junkshop. Happy hunting." Same with this book. Someone who is already a Thurber fan will appreciate it.
October 18, 2022
Few gems that I loved. Most "letters" about other writers went over my head. I have no idea who they were so I skimmed a lot of this book.
I'd prefer to read Thurbers published writings not a mishmash of his stuff he threw in back drawer. Just wasn't my tea.
I'd prefer to read Thurbers published writings not a mishmash of his stuff he threw in back drawer. Just wasn't my tea.
February 3, 2021
Delicious.
April 9, 2021
This collection contains a few diamonds within the rough of a lot of arcane material. For diehard fans only.
September 9, 2012
A series of article written by James Thurber and many many of his cartoons which are wonderful. A few may be dated, however, many of them hold up even today. His humor is fast and biting at times but always delightful.
June 18, 2012
Well, this is the first James Thurber book I read, so I can't recommend this as a great introduction to his work, particularly if you're not fascinated by the inner workings of the New Yorker. I laughed very hard at the retelling of A Night Before Christmas by Ernst Hemmingway.
December 8, 2013
A collection of writings and cartoons/drawings Thurber didn't himself collect. Not the best Thurber, but well worth 99 cents, and some of it is just great. Some great short squibs, some fine cartoons, and a great satire of a Christmas play.
August 31, 2014
This is Thurber, one of Funniest men who ever lived.
It's Thurber, this is a special look at his view of his craft and others who practice it. A rare privilege.
It's Thurber, this is a special look at his view of his craft and others who practice it. A rare privilege.
Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews