December 8: James
Thurber was born on this day in 1894—or rather, as described in his preface to The Thurber Carnival, "on a night
of wild portent and high wind in the year 1894, at 147 Parsons Avenue,
Columbus, Ohio." In keeping with his hapless heroes and self-deprecating
style, Thurber goes on to say that the portents didn't come to much:
The house, which is still standing, bears no tablet or
plaque of any description, and is never pointed out to visitors. Once Thurber's
mother, walking past the place with an old lady from Fostoria, Ohio, said to
her, "My son James was born in that house," to which the old lady,
who was extremely deaf, replied, "Why, on the Tuesday morning train,
unless my sister is worse." Mrs. Thurber let it go at that.
The birthplace has been demolished, but Thurber's other
Columbus home is now a museum and writing center. This year's winner of the
museum's annual Thurber Prize for American Humor is Steve Hely's How I Became a Famous Novelist, a lampoon
of the best/worst in contemporary fiction. Hely's hero is a downward-spiraling
writer currently employed in an essay factory penning customized academic
papers for student-cheaters. When he hears a contemporary author, Preston
Brooks, read from his bestselling novel to a rapt audience, the
essayist-for-hire has his eureka moment: anyone, most notably him, could
fashion such an "intricate latticework of literary sewage":
Maybe you'll have to see this audience to understand my
epiphany. …In the rows of the lecture hall, listening to Preston, their backs
arched forward and their eyes expectant, were rows of college girls. Young
women in little sweaters and tight jeans, pliant and needy. Girls with names
like Sara and Katie and Chrissy, no doubt, who had read Chronicles of Esteban and Kindness
to Birds while curved on couches in their bras and pajama bottoms, giving
themselves over to this magician of words. Corn-fed girls from small towns,
where girls were still graceful and feminine. Pageant winners and soccer
players and swoony pseudopoets. Girls who were smart-cute and wildly
passionate, who'd traveled from Connecticut and California to Shenandoah
College to submit themselves to Preston Brooks. Their faces yearned with
nameless desire, pleading with Preston to guide them and fill them with hard
truths.
Daybook is contributed by Steve King, who teaches in the English Department of Memorial University in St. John's, Newfoundland. His literary daybook began as a radio series syndicated nationally in Canada. He can be found online at todayinliterature.com.
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