Men, women & dogs

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"Thurber in his heyday was one of those international names, like Garbo, Ruth or Mussolini, that immediately summoned up a point of view: partly, no doubt, because he sounded like one of his own characters but more certainly because of his drawings. He did not make jokes in his mouth, like so many clowns, but somewhere between the optic nerve and the unconscious, an area where the slightest tilt can lead to torment and madness. But thank God he compiled this book while youthful high spirits could still put funny hats on his nightmares and he could still be diverted by jokes that had nothing to say about anything: "I said the hounds of Spring are on Winter's traces, but let it pass, let it pass." I used to repeat this line so often as a boy, that it lost all humor, and finally all meaning, and I still loved it. That's art and that's Thurber."*From the Introduction by Wilfrid Sheed