Miss Edith on Woody Allen, Robert Benchley, and S.J. Perelman: Very Briefly

Miss Edith is pleased to see that the press have finally relented and decided that Woody Allen is an ok guy. The weekend brought a veritable flurry of reviews of his new books, The Insanity Defense and Mere Anarchy. The first title is really an anthology of his previous books of comic essays; the latter title is new material, and his first new work published in book form in decades. If only The Insanity Defense were being published, you’d say, “Man, Woody must need money if he’s recycling this stuff, good as it is,” but with the new material also being released, I think it’s more significant. The publishing and media industries must feel that they gave Woody a hard enough time in the ‘80s and ‘90s, and the guy’s not getting any younger, and, after all, he is still married to Soon-yi, so… Ok, Woody. Accolades to you.

I read all of Woody Allen’s books of essays over and over again when I was a kid. I also grew up watching episodes of Your Show of Shows every summer, when they were screened at a movie revival festival that was held every summer at Dartmouth College. So you could say I’m predisposed to think well of these new books. I am, and I intend to enjoy them when I get around to reading them.

There was one review – and for the life of me I cannot recall where I read it – it might have been the New York Times, the New York Observer, or the Wall Street Journal, and I’m too lazy to hunt for the source right now – that pointed out an obvious truth, which is that Woody Allen’s writing is a synthesis of the work of S.J. Perelman and Robert Benchley. The reviewer then said, and I’m paraphrasing, “But no one reads Benchley anymore.”

This incensed me. Miss Edith reads Robert Benchley. Oh, yes she does. She owns quite a few titles by Robert Benchley, and occasionally these volumes grace her book-laden bedside table and the floor next to the bed (also crowded with books). And if Miss Edith reads Benchley from time to time, there must be at least six other people out there who also read Benchley.

I don’t understand why Benchley was the one singled out as the one no one reads anymore. The truth is, I don’t know that anyone under the age of 60 would read Perelman anymore, either, if they wouldn’t read Benchley. But people do read Dorothy Parker, no matter what. It seems to me likely that Parker would be a direct road toward Benchley, but that to land at Perelman would take a little more effort. If the company that keeps Perelman in print (Modern Library, an imprint of Random House, I believe) would like to get in touch with Miss Edith and let me know, How well does S.J. Perelman really sell, I’d be most interested. Certainly more Perelman is available via Amazon than Benchley (an anthology is available, published by the University of Chicago press – what the fuck is that about?) but really folks. Who’s reading this stuff besides me? I would really, really like to know.

And in the meantime, reviewers at the WSJ, NYT, NY Observer: don’t try to insult Mr. Benchley by lightly brushing him off. He was a better man than you’ll ever be. And a hell of a lot funnier. I’m sure Woody Allen would agree with me.