Review: The Early Worm, by Robert Benchley

Review: The Early Worm, by Robert Benchley

by Rich Horton

Robert Benchley (1889-1945) was one of the leading American humor writers of his time, as well as a theater critic and a fairly successful character actor. He worked for a variety of publications, most notably the New Yorker in its early years, but also Life, Vanity Fair, and numerous other places. He was one of the most prominent member of the "Algonquin Round Table", a group of wits who met regularly at the Algonquin hotel. (Other famous members included Dorothy Parker, Alexander Woolcott, and Harold Ross.)

I've known of his work and reputation for a long time, but hadn't really read him, so I figured I'd try when I found his 1927 collection The Early Worm at an estate sale. My edition seems to be a first, from Henry Holt, but it's in rather poor condition. It is illustrated by Gluyas Williams, with some additional engravings by John Held.

I have to say that my basic reaction to most of the book is "I guess you had to have been there". And by "there" I mean, mostly, in New York in the early 1920s. It's easy to see that what he writes is supposed to be funny, and probably was when it was first seen, but doesn't quite come off now. Some of this is simply that the references are very topical, and sometimes pretty geographically bound as well. Some of this is that times have changed -- one essay laments that surely New York will soon by treated as Sodom and Gomorrah were, due to the profusion of theatrical revues featuring scantily clad women. This may have hit home then, but falls flat now. (I should note that Benchley was not being at all serious in this case.)

At times he belabors a joke too long -- the worst example is a series of short pieces for Life which tell of the "Life Polar Expedition" -- in which a group of writers for the magazine decide to race the Byrd and Amundsen expeditions to the North Pole -- on bicycle. That's one joke -- and it's a joke that was made effectively enough in the first 1000 words or so. So why was it extended to six entries?

But there are some bits here that are still amusing. He did a series of essays on "Fascinating Crimes", which tell of elaborately silly fictional crimes, in a sort of shaggy dog fashion, and I thought those were pretty nice. And some of his complaints about society do hold up -- "What College Did to Me" is a fine satirical look at his college career, and with minor updating it still applies today. Two satirical looks at Christmas traditions, "A Good Old-Fashioned Christmas" and "The Rise and Fall of the Christmas Card", are pretty effective. There are several supposed "interviews" with prominent people of that era -- Mussolini, Vice President Dawes, the Countess Karolyi -- which are so absurd as to keep the interest. And a parodic suggestion as to how Theodore Dreiser should write his next novel seemed spot on!

I should say that throughout there are occasional jokes, and an off-handedly witty point of view, that tickled this reader. I do suspect that he was writing for a specific audience here, and for that reason dulled the edge of his wit -- I would bet he might have been better being more savage. Still -- I don't doubt that he deserved his reputation -- but I'm not sure he really repays reading now.