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Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town

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There is at least one author who may remind you of Stephen Leacock, namely Garrison Keillor of Lake Wobegon fame, but Leacock should be recognized as the ultimate master of quaint, bucolic humor. Leacock, who died in 1944, became arguably the most prominent Canadian humorist of his day (and probably of all time). What is ironic about that claim is that Leacock worked for most of his life as a professor of economics. We do not usually equate economics with humor, preferring to think of that profession as one of bow ties and supply and demand charts. Throw that presumption out the window and pick up a copy of "Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town," Leacock's best known work available through the New Canadian Library series.

For me, one of the funniest sections of the book was the introduction written by Leacock, where he gives you some background about himself and his profession. This short piece of writing quickly gives you an idea of the type of humor you will find in the actual sketches: a very sly, very quiet and clever type of humor that often takes a while to sink in. Leacock does not rely on rim shot jokes or manic posturing in his writings. Instead, he creates the fictional Canadian town of Mariposa and populates it with small town archetypes that are wonders to behold.

All of the characters are hilarious in their own way: Mr. Smith, the proprietor of the local hotel and bar, full of schemes to earn money while trying to get his liquor license back. Then there is Jefferson Thorpe, the barber involved in financial schemes that may put him on the level of the Morgans and the Rockefellers. The Reverend Mr. Drone presides over the local Church of England in Mariposa, a man who reads Greek as easy as can be but laments his lack of knowledge about logarithms and balancing the financial books of the church. Peter Pupkin, the teller at the local bank, has a secret he wants no one to know about, but which eventually comes out while he is courting the daughter of the town judge. All of these characters, and several others, interact throughout the sketches.

Leacock has the ability to turn a story, to make it take a crazy, unexpected twist even when you are looking for such a maneuver. That he accomplishes this in stories that rarely run longer than twenty pages is certainly a sign of great talent. By the time you reach the end of the book, you know these people as though you lived in the town yourself, and you know what makes them tick.

Despite all of the crazy antics in Mariposa, Leacock never lets the reader lose sight of the fact that these are basically good people living good lives. There seems to be a lot of feeling for the citizens of Mariposa on the part of Leacock, which comes to a head in the final sketch in the collection, "L'Envoi. The Train to Mariposa," where he recounts traveling back to the town after being away for years, with all of the attendant emotions that brings as recognizable landmarks come into view and the traveler realizes that his little town is the same as when he left it years before.

I suspect there is a historical importance to "Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town." These writings first appeared in 1912, a time when many people living in the bigger Canadian cities still remembered life in a small town. In addition to the humorous aspects of the book, the author includes many descriptive passages concerning the atmosphere and layout of Mariposa, something instantly recognizable to anyone who grew up in such a place. Nostalgia for the simpler life of the small town probably played a significant role in the book's success.

I look forward to reading more Stephen Leacock. While much of the humor in the book is not belly laugh funny, it does provide one with a deep satisfaction of reading clever humor from an author who knows how to tickle the funny bone. You do not need to be Canadian to enjoy this wonderful book.

Like the heading says, this is the funniest book I've ever read. Leacock was a comic genius and this is his best work. Buy it, read it, love it.

This was a Freebie and my first download...super easy to do. This is a nice charming story... the author tells it in away that is not too flowery.....just right. So...not a barn burner, but I'm glad I read this Canadian Classic!

The author is a master of understatement and irony. One can snooze though this little yarn of a fictional small town in Ontario at the turn of the 20th century, but you would miss allot of the subtle humour. Various characters are quietly lampooned from the second person point of view. The characters are a bit odd, sort of off, normal, but not quite getting it. They have contradictions, but somehow they seem likeable.

In my opinion Leacock draws the sketches of Mariposa to make the thesis that life was better before the age of modernity. He writes of the changes in the winds in the first decade of the 20th century; Canada becoming it's own nation, the rise of literary criticism in theology, and the new technologies of the telephone and railroads. And the juxtaposition of the big city and immigration from small towns all represented the changing times of 1912.

He symbolized this with his sketch of the Mariposa Belle, a small excursion steamer that sunk and the would-be rescuers had to be rescued from their own leaky boats. The steamer symbolizes pre-modernity doesn't really sink, but only sank to six feet of water and stayed upright. The rescuer i.e. modernity came to save the old society, but modernity itself gets rescued. The rescue was definitely ironic.

I think this comes out in the final chapter when the reader takes a nostalgic train ride back to Mariposa from the big city and reminisces about the old town. I felt that this chapter made me long for a better place and a time that was innocent. Leacock writes with a perception that had a universal appeal that would make anyone long for their own childhood. I found it interesting that he even shamed the reader to remember Mariposa, from the hustle and bustle of `making your way' in the big city.

This book is a literary classic and a picture into a time when Canada was coming of age. It is a really excellent read for anyone who likes good literature, and a must read for Canadians wanting to dwell into our national dream.

no hype. i couldn't stop laughing as i was reading this. and i mean laughing out loud. in a cafe. with everyone staring at me. but i didn't care. and i couldn't help it if i did. it's just too hilarious.

Perhaps the finest comment about Stephen Leacock in the last half century is that "he is a
Will Rogers for the 90's."

Rogers, of course, is one of the most beloved of American humorists -- he was killed in
1935 when his plane crashed near Point Barrow, Alaska. Leacock died on March 28, 1944.
Like Rogers, he had been Canada's favorite humorist for decades.

Sunshine Sketches is about Orillia, Ontario, Canada, where Leacock had his summer home
on Brewery Bay (he once wrote, "I have known that name, the old Brewery Bay, to make
people feel thirsty by correspondence as far away as Nevada.") His home is now maintained
as a historic site by the town of Orillia. I lived there for almost 30 years, and the people of Orillia are still much the same as Leacock portrayed them in 1912.

These stories about various personalities in town were printed in the local newspaper in the
1910 - 1912 era, before being compiled into this book which established Leacock's literary
fame. The people portrayed really lived, though some are composites; the events are of a
kindly humorist looking at the foibles of small town life. Once they came out in book form
and soared to national popularity, everyone in town figured the rest of the country was
laughing at them because of Leacock's book and he was royally hated in Orillia to the end
of his life.

Gradually, and this took decades, Orillians came to recognize that genius had walked
amongst them for several decades. (It's hard to recognize genius when your own ego is so
inflated.) Orillia now awards the annual "Leacock Medal for Humor" -- Canada's top literary
prize for the best book of humour for the preceding year.

Leacock died when I was six, but I did know his son, who still lived in town. I delivered
papers to the editor of the "Newspacket," Leacock's name for the Orillia Packet and Times
(where I worked) and the rival Newsletter. The Packet had the same editor in the 1940's as
when Leacock wrote about him in 1910.

But the book is more than Orillia; it is a wonderfully kind and humorous description of life in
many small towns. The American artist Norman Rockwell painted the same kinds of scenes;
it is the type of idyllic urban life so many of us keep longing to find again in our hectic
urban world.

Leacock realized the book was universal in its description of small towns, and in the preface
he wrote "Mariposa is not a real town. On the contrary, it is about seventy or eighty of
them. You may find them all the way from Lake Superior to the sea, with the same square
streets and the same maple trees and the same churches and hotels, and everywhere the
sunshine of the land of hope."

True enough, which gives this book continuing appeal nearly a century after it was written.
All great writing is about topics you know, and as a longtime resident Leacock knew Orillia
well. As for Leacock himself, he wrote, "I was born at Swanmoor, Hants., England, on Dec.
30, 1869. I am not aware that there was any particular conjunction of the planets at the
time, but should think it extremely likely."

He says of his education, "I survived until I took the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in
1903. The meaning of this degree is that the recipient of instruction is examined for the last
time in his life, and is pronounced completely full. After this, no new ideas can be imparted
to him."

In reviewing Charles Dickens' works in 1934, Leacock wrote what could well be his own
epitaph: "Transitory popularity is not proof of genius. But permanent popularity is." The fact
his writings are still current illustrates the nature of his writing.

In contrast to the sometimes sardonic humor of modern times, Sunshine Sketches reflects
Leacock's idea that "the essence of humor is human kindness." Or, in the same vein, "Humor
may be defined as the kindly contemplation of the incongruities of life, and the artistic
expression thereof."

Granted, this book is not what he recognized to have widespread appeal to modern readers.
In his own words, "There are only two subjects that appeal nowadays to the general public,
murder and sex; and, for people of culture, sex-murder." Yet, anyone reading this will
remember scenes from it for much longer than anything from a murder mystery.

In today's world, where newspapers almost daily track Prime Minister Tony Blair's dash to
the political right, Leacock wrote, "Socialism won't work except in Heaven where they don't
need it and in Hell where they already have it."

He described his own home as follows, "I have a large country house -- a sort of farm
which I carry on as a hobby . . . . Ten years ago the deficit on my farm was about a
hundred dollars; but by well-designed capital expenditure and by greater attention to
details, I have got it into the thousands." Sounds familiar to today's farm policies ?

It's what I mean by this being a timeless work.

Leacock himself noted, when talking about good literature, "Personally, I would sooner have
written 'Alice in Wonderland' than the whole of the 'Encyclopedia Britannica'." This is his
'Alice' and it well deserves to be favorably compared to Lewis Carroll's work.

By all measures, it is still the finest Canadian book ever written.

This 1912 work uses sketches about the residents of a small Ontario lake town. The tone is mock-boosterish, giving rise to some sly comic moments. This is a wonderful parody of that can-do mentality that seems to infect us in North America. The work anticipates Lake Woebegone by some years, but has a distinctly Canadian feel. We've seen lots of works take mythical townspeople one by one, but I can think of few that do it as well and as simply as this one. This is a must read.

Leacock's observations about people and community are devastatingly accurate and wonderfully recognizeable. The narrator captures the posturings and cozy delusions of small town life with the deadpan wit and irony of a Will Rogers for the nineties. The emperor stands there completely undressed and yet just as we turn to gloat with our fellow bystanders we feel the draft that alerts us to our own nakedness. Stephen Leacock, where have you been all my life?