Little Masterpieces of American Wit and Humor, Volume I — Text and Context

Selection Principles and Editorial Voice

Masson’s introduction frames the anthology as a personal, idiosyncratic project. He admits that “literary finish has been ignored” to include “characteristic and purely American bits.” The editor’s voice is self-deprecating and pragmatic: he paraphrases an old adage—“what is one man’s laughter may be another man’s dirge”—to underscore the subjectivity of humor. He also notes that omissions stem from “restrictions of publishers, or the impossibility of obtaining original copies, or the limited space.” This candid, unpretentious tone sets the stage for the varied pieces that follow.

Recurring Images: The Garden as Comic Stage

In the excerpt from Charles Dudley Warner’s “My Summer in a Garden,” the garden becomes a site for both labor and reflection. The narrator describes a new hoe with “two narrow blades, sharp on both edges” that makes “life a holiday.” The hyperbolic praise—“it has changed my view of the desirableness and value of human life”—is undercut by self-mockery: “the only danger is, that you may rather make an idol of the hoe.” The garden also hosts a cat “of the sex which votes (but not a pole-cat),” and the narrator’s wife Polly, whose gardening efforts are valued despite their amateurishness. These recurring domestic details ground the humor in everyday objects and relationships.

Movement Between Scenes: From Garden to Parlor

The anthology’s structure shifts abruptly from Warner’s garden to other settings. The excerpt jumps from hoeing to a discussion of birds and a cat, then to a list of acknowledgments for poems and stories. This juxtaposition mirrors the collection’s overall movement: a piece about gardening gives way to a poem like “A Rhyme for Priscilla” or a sketch like “The Composite Ghost.” The editor’s introduction promises “all that is fairly representative” alongside “fugitive” items, so readers should expect rapid transitions between rural, urban, and fantastical scenes, with no single tone dominating.

The Role of the Reader in a Personal Anthology

Masson’s introduction directly addresses the reader, acknowledging that “the reader will doubtless recognize, in this anthology, many old friends” but may also “be conscious of omissions.” This creates a collaborative, almost conversational relationship: the editor’s choices are presented as his own, not as a definitive canon. The reader is invited to judge the selections, to laugh or disagree. The anthology thus functions less as a scholarly collection and more as a curated conversation, where the editor’s personality and preferences are part of the experience.

Readers approaching this volume should expect variety and unpredictability. The editor’s fifteen-year labor has produced a collection that values authenticity over polish, and the pieces range from the gently comic to the broadly farcical. Pay attention to the transitions between authors and styles; the anthology’s structure itself becomes part of the humor, as earnest gardening reflections sit alongside absurdist sketches. This is a book to be dipped into, not read straight through.

That rainy afternoon, I kept returning to the roughest, most unvarnished bits in Little Masterpieces—the ones that felt less like crafted prose, more like a friend half-laughing at their own missteps. That same honest shrug carried me later into One Third Off — Text and Context, where the humor lands even closer to home, gentler and more worn-in. Just one of those accidental afternoons that lingers.