Humour in words can be hard to digest. So we appropriately launched the humour week with Thurber. A Thurber is bound to have drawings.
Now we proceed to a writer whose words paint a million pictures. I probably encountered Stephen Leacock around when I began to tussle with maths. His A, B, and C. The Human Element in Mathematics, from Literary Lapses, was timely.
Leacock is outstanding at parody. It is a delight to read his versions of detective and romance novels, ghost and other adventure stories as well as, I'm pretty sure, some classics.
When I first read Leacock I had already consumed a good amount of detective and regency romance novels.
Nonsense Novels opens with Maddened by Mystery: or, The Defective Detective, a hilarious tale in the tradition of famous detective fiction such as the Agatha Christie stories. There is a twist in the tail of this tale that is absolutely priceless. Leacock also has one based on Sherlock Holmes.
As for romance, there is Gertrude the Governess: or, Simple Seventeen. If you've read your Jane Eyre and co., then I'm sure you will get your giggles worth from the story. If you need prodding, bite on this.
Leacock is uproarious. Metafilter.com has a wonderful sampler of each story of Nonsense Novels. Jokes apart, his voluminous collections are an education of sorts in themselves, with enough non-fiction too.
In fact, the story below is taught as syllabus in school or college somewhere.
So is Thurber's The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.
That may not be such a good thing because it has been reported to me that at least one person was allergic to Kipling's Kim because it was taught at college. One of the best ways to destroy the love for good literature appears to be to simply make it school course work.
Also, as mentioned in yesterday's blog post, it is becoming harder to access a significant body of good writing which is being buried by the combined good efforts of publishers and the Law. The average person, thus, stands little chance of encountering quality in thought and writing unless they pay money.
Besides, good writers tend to be vilified by the media under the pretext of 'sharing a piece of truth'. More often than not, the accusations fall off like burnt leeches when the blazing tip of time stubs off on them. But, by then, much harm is done.
Oddly enough, funny books are not everyone's cup of tea. Humour is a bizarre beast. Humourists, more than writers in other genres, tend to get into trouble. Leacock has his share of detractors and is now swept under the carpet with a few choice epithets. I find unacceptable the assumption that if we read certain voices or of certain things, they will somehow rub off on us.
The preface of my very tattered edition of Nonsense Novels tells us that the book hopes to offer
The above quote also speaks of 'worthier things'... As though humour is not, in itself, worthy. As if 'worthy' things preclude humour. Merely an instance of the humorist's innate modesty, I presume.
Speaking of which, Amazon has a more than modest set of Leacocks. Some are for free on Kindle.
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| My copy |
Leacock is outstanding at parody. It is a delight to read his versions of detective and romance novels, ghost and other adventure stories as well as, I'm pretty sure, some classics.
When I first read Leacock I had already consumed a good amount of detective and regency romance novels.
Nonsense Novels opens with Maddened by Mystery: or, The Defective Detective, a hilarious tale in the tradition of famous detective fiction such as the Agatha Christie stories. There is a twist in the tail of this tale that is absolutely priceless. Leacock also has one based on Sherlock Holmes.
As for romance, there is Gertrude the Governess: or, Simple Seventeen. If you've read your Jane Eyre and co., then I'm sure you will get your giggles worth from the story. If you need prodding, bite on this.
In fact, the story below is taught as syllabus in school or college somewhere.
That may not be such a good thing because it has been reported to me that at least one person was allergic to Kipling's Kim because it was taught at college. One of the best ways to destroy the love for good literature appears to be to simply make it school course work.
Also, as mentioned in yesterday's blog post, it is becoming harder to access a significant body of good writing which is being buried by the combined good efforts of publishers and the Law. The average person, thus, stands little chance of encountering quality in thought and writing unless they pay money.
Besides, good writers tend to be vilified by the media under the pretext of 'sharing a piece of truth'. More often than not, the accusations fall off like burnt leeches when the blazing tip of time stubs off on them. But, by then, much harm is done.
Oddly enough, funny books are not everyone's cup of tea. Humour is a bizarre beast. Humourists, more than writers in other genres, tend to get into trouble. Leacock has his share of detractors and is now swept under the carpet with a few choice epithets. I find unacceptable the assumption that if we read certain voices or of certain things, they will somehow rub off on us.
The preface of my very tattered edition of Nonsense Novels tells us that the book hopes to offer
some brief respite when the sadness of the heart or the sufferings of the body forbid the perusal of worthier things.More than anything, humour is First Aid for the soul. A society or culture that tolerates and honours its jesters is one I would consider highly evolved.
The above quote also speaks of 'worthier things'... As though humour is not, in itself, worthy. As if 'worthy' things preclude humour. Merely an instance of the humorist's innate modesty, I presume.
Speaking of which, Amazon has a more than modest set of Leacocks. Some are for free on Kindle.
Literature, like a sacred ritual offering, sublimates experience and emotion. Elevated by the beauty of the depiction, experience and emotion thus rise, for us, in us, above common average parametres. This not only enables higher and wider enjoyments but provides us with tools that help us cope with life.
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