Of All Things

Robert Benchley wrote the kind of essays that make you laugh out loud on the subway, then catch yourself and look around to see if anyone noticed. This 1921 collection showcases his particular genius: taking the most mundane aspects of modern life and dissecting them with the gravity of a scientist examining a rare specimen. The book opens with 'The Social Life of the Newt' , a mock-scientific study of amphibian courtship that somehow says more about human behavior than any serious sociology treatise could. Throughout these pages, Benchley turns his wickedly precise eye on everything from the proper way to eat an orange to the unspoken rules of cocktail parties, finding in each topic a vein of absurdity that only the most observant humorist could mine. His tone is perfectly deadpan, delivered with a straight face that makes the ridiculous seem reasonable and the reasonable seem ridiculous. These essays have aged remarkably well, less because they reference a particular era than because human foolishness is eternal. For readers who appreciate wit that operates on multiple levels , surface comedy and sharper social commentary underneath , Benchley remains an absolute delight.