The Secret Life of Walter Mitty

A sad story with traces of humor sprinkled throughout, that’s what James Thurber’s The Secret Life of Walter Mitty is. This is not to say I didn’t enjoy his short story. Rather, it caught me off guard. I began reading with expectations of amusement (after all Thurber is one of the 50 funniest American writers), but finished with feelings of sympathy. Here is a man so imprisoned by his real-world inadequacies that he finds peace in fantastical daydreams that permit him to be the manly heroic figure he so desperately wants to be. He is meek and defeated, which is the profile of a lead in any comedy, I guess. Take Tommy Boy, Ace Ventura, The Nutty Professor, or Hangover, for example. All feature a hapless character who stumbles into greatness, or at least exhibits personal growth throughout. Mitty does not develop in this manner. In the end, “he faced the firing squad; erect and motionless, proud and disdainful, Walter Mitty the Undefeated, inscrutable to the last.”

There’s a lot hidden in this closing line, and many interpretations. The two I have settled on, however, both suggest the abandonment of hope. Firstly, Mitty is putting his fantasy life to rest. Notice that Thurber’s story both begins and ends in the fantasy realm. Perhaps Mitty realizes that he must cope with the man he is and quit dreaming of the man he hoped to be. Thus, he must face the firing squad and exit his dreams for good. The second interpretation proposes that he will continue his familiar path, living partly in two realms, remaining miserable in one. In this sense, the firing squad is executing the hope he once had. A proud man in his fantasies, Mitty faces the execution with disdain. At the same time, his ultimate demise will come in the real world where he is considered feeble, a cold reality to such a weak man. In both cases, Mitty gives up hope.

Tell me where is the humor in any of this? His reveries are independently amusing, but lose any such value when they are considered as escapes from a wretched reality. The only peculiar aspect of Walter Mitty’s tale is the recurring “pocketa-pocketa-pocketa” sound, which, I argue, acts to tie his fantasies together.

We are challenged to write about readings that moved us, paying close attention to our reading experience. I thoroughly enjoyed Thurber’s short story. Thurber created a complex piece full of symbolism contributing to another layer of meaning. His descriptive writing drew me into the story and left vivid images in my mind, much like I was in the fantasies alongside Mitty. I experienced a cognitive shift, but it did not produce a laugh. Like I said, I was caught of guard by the discouraging nature of The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. I enjoyed being caught of guard.  

No Laughing Matter

The first chapter of John Morreall’s Comic Relief builds a theoretical blueprint of humor. Morreall expounds at great length humor’s turbulent journey through the centuries, paying special attention to early Christian thinkers’ and philosophers’ condemnation of humor and laughter as poison to a sturdy and productive society. Of particular interest to me are the theories regarding humor, which are laid out in a manner that rouses recollections of Harvard Business Review articles read in the early morning hours of my sophomore year in preparation for ethics quizzes.

Let me first defend Morreall’s bulky prose. The majority of my classmates loathe Morreall’s Comic Relief for its longwinded attempt to define humor, both conceptually and psychologically. Can you blame them? I argue that despite its utter dullness, Morreall's structure is absolutely necessary in producing a scholarly argument. I prefer a more minimal style such as that of Ernest Hemingway or George Orwell, but these authors have divergent goals. Morreall defines whereas Hemingway and Orwell describe. 

In defining humor, Morreall adopts an argumentative style. He is required to cover all his bases, leaving no room for confusion. His composition follows the ideal structure presented to me when crafting my first argumentative essay in high school. That is, a general preface followed by the articulation of the first point, its counterpoint, the defense against this opposition, and so on.  In the end, Morreall has made himself clear. The reader then agrees or disagrees with each condition, but there is no confusion regarding the argument set forth. Morreall presents a well-researched definition of humor and its respective theories. I do not agree with Morreall's entirely, but he has provided sufficient information for me to draw my own conclusions. For this, I find his writing effective.

I have one gripe. Morreall’s language is too elaborate at some points. Words such as chthonic, cachinnation, eutrapelos and pusillanimity sprout up throughout the paragraphs in his first chapter. Adding insult to injury, such language only makes the meticulous process of following Morreall’s discourse even more time consuming. Was it worth sending an hour with  Comic Relief in one hand and a dictionary in the other? I finish each reading with a sigh of relief and my brain in a knot.