With a style that combined biting sarcasm with the "language of the free lunch counter," Henry Louis Mencken shook politics and politicians for nearly half a century. With a style that combined biting sarcasm with the "language of the free lunch counter," Henry Louis Mencken shook politics and politicians for nearly half a century. Now, fifty years after Mencken’s death, the Johns Hopkins University Press announces The Buncombe Collection , newly packaged editions of nine Mencken Happy Days , Heathen Days , Newspaper Day s, Prejudices , Treatise on the Gods , On Politics , Thirty-Five Years of Newspaper Work , Minority Report , and A Second Mencken Chrestomathy . Discovered among his private papers and edited by columnist Terry Teachout, this collection is full of the iconoclastic common sense that marked Mencken’s astonishing career as the premier American social critic of the twentieth century. This chrestomathy (“a collection of literary passages”) incorporates writings about a variety of politics, war, music, literature, men and women, lawyers, and the brethren of the cloth.
Henry Louis "H.L." Mencken became one of the most influential and prolific journalists in America in the 1920s and '30s, writing about all the shams and con artists in the world. He attacked chiropractors and the Ku Klux Klan, politicians and other journalists. Most of all, he attacked Puritan morality. He called Puritanism, "the haunting fear that someone, somewhere, may be happy."
At the height of his career, he edited and wrote for The American Mercury magazine and the Baltimore Sun newspaper, wrote a nationally syndicated newspaper column for the Chicago Tribune, and published two or three books every year. His masterpiece was one of the few books he wrote about something he loved, a book called The American Language (1919), a history and collection of American vernacular speech. It included a translation of the Declaration of Independence into American English that began, "When things get so balled up that the people of a country got to cut loose from some other country, and go it on their own hook, without asking no permission from nobody, excepting maybe God Almighty, then they ought to let everybody know why they done it, so that everybody can see they are not trying to put nothing over on nobody."
When asked what he would like for an epitaph, Mencken wrote, "If, after I depart this vale, you ever remember me and have thought to please my ghost, forgive some sinner and wink your eye at some homely girl."
This morning I wrote a singularly catchy tune entitled I think I left my radio on this morning.
After about an hour straight of continually singing the song my office cubicle mate reminded me that I did not own a radio, so I then proceeded to head down to the men's locker room in order to (1) brush my teeth with toothpaste, (2) floss my teeth, (3) brush my teeth with raw baking soda, (4) brush my teeth, again, with toothpaste, and to finally (5) swirl and rinse my mouth out with mouthwash.
So now I'm in the work environment singing a singularly catchy tune that I wrote entitled I just brushed the fuck out of my teeth.
My political science professor recommended Mencken to me. Figured I’d like it. Not sure if enjoyed it, in all honesty. But it definitely had me thinking, and thinking, and thinking.
I read this as part of my exploration of “the great cynics” at the turn of the millennium, the others being Ambrose Bierce and Jonathan Swift. Mencken was the one I knew the least about going in, and I started with this “second” Chrestomathy because it happened to be easily found at Shakespeare & Co.
Mencken will not disappoint anyone looking for cynical writing, and so far as I can tell the “second” Chrestomathy is as good a place to start as any. “Chrestomathy” was a word Mencken appears to have invented for the first anthology of his work. This one was never published in his lifetime, although most of the work for a followup volume had been prepared and was found in his collected writings not long after his death. The editor has organized them thematically and written an extensive introduction for the book, but otherwise allows Mencken to speak for himself.
Few people will agree with all of Mencken’s opinions, but many educated people will agree with some of his sentiments against stupidity in American culture. More importantly, whether you agree or not, it is a pleasure to enjoy the wit and skill with which he demolishes sacred cows and comments on various aspects of contemporary life. He loves Chekov and Nietzsche, but hates Sinclair Lewis and Robert Louis Stevenson. He prizes education but hates teachers. He mocks Christianity and especially the Salvation Army, but despises religious intolerance with equal vehemence. He rarely finds praiseworthy respect in women, but criticizes men who try to do without their company. Although he did revise many of these essays to remove specific references to contemporary figures and ephemeral issues, a familiarity with the history of the early twentieth century will help to contextualize many of the essays.
In short, this book is worth the time for people interested in Mencken, and probably outside the grasp of those who are not.
A wonderfully entertaining, irreverent, and beautifully-written selection of essays, but also a fascinating trip back to the 1920s through the eyes of a Bourbon Democrat on the eve of that breed's extinction. Fun to read alongside the work of Frank Kent -- Mencken's Baltimore Sun colleague and ideological sympathizer.