Any
kind of culture is funny, really, when you take into account the absurdity of
community. The driving force for civilization, the idea of culture and
community is a human invention. Aside from the prides of lions or the flock of
gulls, society is largely non-existent in the natural world. It is unexpected
for a group of organisms to suddenly develop the grounds for a society such as
we observe in the modern day. We don’t find it particularly funny because it is
our reality: society is what allows us the lives we lead. Taking a step back,
though, once may come to realize the humor in the miniscule details of everyday
life.
Bill
Bryson offers us this perspective in his I’m
a Stranger Here Myself as he relishes in the small absurdities that
constitute daily life here in the United States of America. I argue that this
book could be written about anywhere so long as it adheres to the native
audience. The power behind Bryson’s prose is that he peels away the veil of
normalcy in things in order to examine its nature and, ultimately, have fun
with it. The part where he seats himself at a restaurant reminds me of Larry
David in Curb Your Enthusiasm: by
appealing to common sense rather than societal standards, Bryson has inadvertently
become a nuisance to the restaurateurs. He uses this as an opportunity to
examine the unspoken American customs that we have all but forgotten were there
in the first place. By prying us from our comfort zones of culture, Bryson
shows us what our culture really looks like, and it’s hilarious.
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