MY LIFE AND HARD TIMES by JAMES THURBER

Thurber is always a pleasure.  In his drawings and even more so in his prose, this myopic, irascible Ohioan invites the reader to enter the impossibly comic world of his seemingly endless relatives - an invitation which, for me at least, is impossible to refuse.

My Life and Hard Times is Thurber at his best.  Consider the story of 'The Day the Dam Broke' leading all the inhabitants of Columbus, Ohio to "Go east! Go east!"  Everyone ran with the single exception of Thurber's grandfather who was convinced those fleeing had broken from the ranks defending the city against Nathan Bedford Forrest's cavalry and therefore, himself, stood firm until knocked unconscious and dragged away by his family.  A wonderful tale made better by the fact the Dam had not, in fact, broken.

Other stories such as 'The Night the Bed Fell' and 'The Night the Ghost Got In' are treasures but by far the best in this wonderful collection, first published in 1933, is 'More Alarms at Night', a combination of two events which led Thurber's father, described as a "tall, mildly nervous, peaceable gentleman," to entertain the thought that "all of his sons were crazy or on the verge of going crazy."

To extract this story is to diminish it, but I'll try anyway.  In the first half, Thurber's brother wakes his father up at three in the morning with the words, "Buck, your time has come" (Thurber's father was in fact called Charles).  This leads to a confrontation with mother on the stairs who is certain her husband was merely having a bad dream. 

Six months later, when all but father had forgotten this incident, Thurber who had been driven to distraction trying and failing to remember the name of the New Jersey city, Perth Amboy, wakes his father with the plea to:

"'...  name some towns in New Jersey quick!'  It must have been around three in the morning.  Father got up, keeping the bed between him and me, and started to pull his trousers on. 'Don't bother about dressing,' I said.  'Just name some towns in New Jersey.'  While he hastily pulled on his clothes - I remember he left his socks off and put shoes on his bare feet - father began to name, in a shaky voice, various New Jersey cities.  I can still see him reaching for his coat without taking his eyes off me.  'Newark,' he said, 'Jersey City, Atlantic City, Elizabeth, Paterson, Passaic, Trenton, Jersey City, Trenton, Paterson -.'  'It has two names', I snapped.  'Elizabeth and Paterson,' he said.  'No, no!' I told him, irritably.  'This is one town with one name but there are two words in it, like helter-skelter.'  'Helter-skelter,' said my father, moving slowly toward the bedroom door and smiling in a faint strained way which I understand now - but didn't then - was meant to humour me. " ...

My Life and Hard Times, 135pp, Penguin 1948.