Six years older than me, this compendium of Woody Allen’s thoughts, short stories and plays is a volume that I’ve been dipping into for years now. Whilst the highlights (which are certainly worth buying the book for) are unquestionably the two stage plays “God” and “Death”, some of the scattered thoughts that punctuate the longer pieces are at least equally priceless. To wit:

Today I saw a red-and-yellow sunset and thought, How insignificant I am! Of course, I thought that yesterday, too, and it rained.

I recently got round to watching Sleeper, released the year after the first publication of this book, and whilst in both cases some of the topical humour has obviously gone a little stale, there is an air of silliness to both which remains nicely timeless, as “If the Impressionists Had Been Dentists” demonstrates splendidly:

Dear Theo,

I took some dental X-rays this week that I thought were good. Degas saw them and was critical. He said the composition was bad. All the cavities were bunched in the lower left corner. I explained to him that that’s how Mrs. Slotkin’s mouth looks, but he wouldn’t listen! He said he hated the frames and mahogany was too heavy. When he left, I tore them to shreds! As if that was not enough, I attempted some root-canal work on Mrs. Wilma Zardis, but halfway through I became despondent. I realized suddenly that root-canal work is not what I want to do! I grew flushed and dizzy. I ran from the office into the air where I could breathe! I blacked out for several days and woke up at the seashore. When I returned, she was still in the chair. I completed her mouth out of obligation but I couldn’t bring myself to sign it.

Vincent

A mixed bag, but as this is a compendium that can hardly be a criticism, and whilst there will be passages that will induce cringes from some, as in his films the highlights make the endurance of the rougher parts all the more worthwhile. In these politically unsavoury times, this last excerpt may come in useful – from “A Brief, Yet Helpful, Guide to Civil Disobedience”:

In perpetrating a revolution, there are two requirements: someone or something to revolt against and someone to actually show up and do the revolting. Dress is usually casual and both parties may be flexible about time and place but if either faction fails to attend, the whole enterprise is likely to come off badly. In the Chinese Revolution of 1650 neither party showed up and the deposit on the hall was forfeited.

The people or parties revolted against are called the “opressors” and are easily recognized as they seem to be the ones having all the fun. The “oppressors” generally get to wear suits, own land, and play their radios late at night without being yelled at. Their job is to maintain the “status quo,” and condition where everything remains the same although they may be willing to paint every two years.

When the “opressors become too strict, we have what is known as a police state, wherein all dissent is forbidden, as is chuckling, showing up in a bow tie, or referring to the mayor as “Fats.” Civil liberties are greatly curtailed in a police state, and freedom of speech is unheard of, although one is allowed to mime to a record. Opinions critical of the government are not tolerated, particularly about their dancing. Freedom of the press is also curtailed and the ruling party “manages” the news, permitting the citizens to hear only acceptable political ideas and ball scores that will not cause unrest.

The groups who revolt are called the “oppressed” and can generally be seen milling about and grumbling or claiming to have headaches. (It should be noted that the oppressors never revolt and attempt to become the oppressed as that would entail a change of underwear.)