Will Cuppy was a great humorist. This is not his best book or his funniest, but it is as close as he ever got to writing autobiography. It provides fascinating glimpses into his life during the 1920s, when he was still an obscure and impecunious book reviewer.
The New York Times said that Cuppy was known as the hermit of Jones Beach "because he used to retire to a shack there to brood from time to time." In fact he brooded there full-time from 1921 to 1929, which should qualify him as an expert. A hermit, said Cuppy, "is simply a person to whom civilization has failed to adjust itself." This book provides all you will need to know, including recipes, housekeeping tips, important information about the history of spinach, and full particulars on "living from can to mouth"� "new, novel and palatable ways of opening tin cans." Advice to cooks: "When you smell it burning, it's done." I hesitate to recommend his recipes, even in emergencies, but his "Cuppy Plan of Motionless Housekeeping" works for me!
He tells how to discourage visitors and how to hide private food stashes from them. He discusses whether a hermit should keep pets, such as fish or clams, concluding in the negative. Pet fish wound one's vanity past bearing with their complete lack of response. And "the appearance of the clam is all against it for anything approaching intimate relations. For what becomes of high romance when you can't tell whether the small exposed portion of the other party is its foot or its face?"
A book of deep philosophical reflections on topics important to hermits: sardine sandwiches, canned corn, ham and eggs, cabbages and beans, free food. Even prunes—did they ask to be stewed? And spinach especially, also known as succory pottage. The humor is subtle and not for everyone, but this is must reading for Cuppy fans.
Will Cuppy (1884-1949) was a well-known journalist, columnist and humorous. His best known book The Decline and Fall of Practically Everybody was published posthumously. It, like How to Be a Hermit was a collection of essays, previously published in magazines like the New Yorker.
The focus of How to Be a Hermit is Cuppy's time living in a shack on a small island, Jones Island, off Long Island's south shore, from 1921 to 1929. The nearby Coast Guard crew helped him repair the shack and shared supplies and recipes with him. In 1929 the encroachment of the Jones State Park forced him off the island, but a dispensation from the head of the parks department allowed him to keep the shack, and he continued to visit the island until his death.
These gently humorous essays show the difficulty of living alone, dependent on the mercy of the coast guardsmen and the seasonal visitors to the island, who left behind miscellaneous canned goods when they left. He quotes the acerbic comments of his only companion, a black cat.
He supported himself by writing book reviews for $0.25 each, and writing a column for the New York Herald Tribune, and selling articles to the New Yorker and McCall's magazine. Very shy of people, Cuppy never married, thus the subtitle. He described a hermit as "simply a person to whom civilization has failed to adjust itself."
Civilization never adjusted itself to Will Cuppy, and he got his revenge by writing these wonderful essays.
I had never heard of Will Cuppy until we found him on a list somewhere, recommended to fans of P.G. Wodehouse. We started with The Decline and Fall of Practically Everyone, which we thought was funny in parts, but could have been better. (You really need to know more ancient history than either of us do to get a lot of the jokes.)
I believe it was in the afterward for The Decline and Fall that we read that Wodehouse himself was a fan of Cuppy—specifically, that he read How to Be a Hermit multiple times a year! I don't know if that's true, but it was a good enough reason to try it ourselves, and I'm glad we did. I found this book much the more entertaining of the two, and while I won't make an annual tradition of reading it, I certainly wouldn't mind returning to it at some point.
If you're a fan of Wodehouse, I do think you might enjoy this—if what you love about Wodehouse is his ability to turn an amusing phrase. If intricate plotting is what you're after, then no, you won't like How to Be a Hermit. It really has no plot. It's just a loosely linked collection of essays about his life as a "hermit" in the 1920s. The majority of the essays relate to food in some way, or that's how it seemed to us as we read our way through them.
I always find it amazing how much the same the human experience remains across time. Admittedly, the 1920s aren't ancient history, but 1929 (when this was published) is nearly a century in the rearview mirror! So many of the things he wrote about here had me nodding along in agreement. There might be some differences (his medical book compared to our "Dr. Google"), but the results are the same (anxiety and convincing yourself that your minor complaint is a symptom of any of a dozen serious diseases).
Because we'd already read a brief outline of Cuppy's life, certain elements of the book took on a darker, more melancholy tone than they otherwise would have had, thanks to an awareness of what lay in his future, but putting that to the side, this was a fun read. I'll be interested to try more of his work!
Or, a bachelor keeps house. Will Cuppy always managed to say something funny, no matter what the subject. His humor often was very dry and subtle, and at its best can have you chuckling over some comment for days. This is an early work of his, and his style does not seem fully developed. Nonetheless, you will find many of the unique observations and ways of describing the world (and its inhabitants) that make his later books true masterpieces.
This book has a remarkably "modern" feel to it, and will be a revelation to anybody who thinks that books must be topical to pack a punch. This volume, written over 65 years ago, still is remarkably incisive and witty today. Indeed, reviewers of Cuppy's time fell all over themselves trying to find somebody with whom they could compare him. The best most of them could do was cite Mark Twain, but in the final analysis Cuppy has the distinct advantage over him in writing short humorous essays.
The closest we will ever get to an autobiography of this great man. Unabashedly seethes with piscatorial love and a certain loathing for the company of humans.