Into the Archive: Merely Anarchic

Mere Anarchy, by Woody Allen (2007, Random House)

After reading Apropos of Nothing, I felt compelled to look into Woody Allen’s input again. Most of his published work since Side Effects (1980) have been screenplays or plays. He returned to comedic anthologies with Mere Anarchy, a collection of 18 tales, 10 of which had previously been published in The New Yorker.

I ordered Mere Anarchy for a mere two dollars, with four dollars shipping fee of course, a softcover edition. It arrived this Monday. I haven’t read it all, but I’m already noticing a difference from his classic stories. I don’t know if it’s because I have changed, or because Woody has changed.

If I had to lay my finger on one difficulty, it’s that the comedy seems clotted. There are humorous effects sometimes coming four to a sentence; there is no time to rest, no breathing space. Some of the references take a moment or two to untangle. And the formula, at least in the first few tales, is repetitive: a nebbish discovers a popular new trend and hops on it only to discover it’s passing away with inherent flaws being discovered. Perhaps it’s an effect of having them collected all together; as Anthony of Anthony’s Animations on YouTube says of the Warner cartoons, they were not originally made to be seen in batches and so had no problems re-using styles and set-ups. Use of comedic or ironic names – Millipede, Mealworm, Pontius – come thick and fast.

Still worth reading, however, and hilarious in its own right, if you can get over the speed bumps. I fully intend to get Zero Gravity (2020) if I find one for the right price, if only for completeness’ sake. Like most things I enjoyed in my youth, Woody’s writing doesn’t seem as enjoyable as it once was. But that may just be on me. Or the nature of life.