Woody Allen

It’s been twenty-five years since a new collection of Woody Allen’s short humor appeared in print. You’re welcome to argue this point until you’re blue in the face, but he hasn’t made a truly great—or at least consistently funny—film in almost as long. It’s easy, then, to forget how truly fresh and funny Allen once was. The material in his early collections (and in his best films) was marked by his trademark neuroses as well as by an ability to blend high and low culture with often inspired and hilarious results. Allen’s work occasionally pops up in The New Yorker (where many of the pieces in Mere Anarchy originally appeared), and while there’s a palpable strain in some of the more uneven selections, the man is still capable of being very funny, very smart, and hyper-literate, often within the same paragraph.