The journalists of the Jazz Age riffed on items like musicians riffed on themes. Writers and sometimes magazines had their own versions.
The New Yorker called its distinctive items “newsbreaks.”
E.B. White, when he retired in 1976, reckoned he’d written 10,000. They were longer than the standard items — some I admire are about 200 words. But they are still short and wry. They were based on clippings from newspapers around the country and so reflected the experience of the great republic. They were sprinkled with urbane humor and wit.
They appeared under several standing headings, such as “Neatest Trick of the Week” and “Letters We Never Finished Reading.”
White’s unsigned item “Mysteries of Life” was an account of a meeting of British scientists in 1928. The scientists appeared close to an understanding of life’s secret through the investigation of the chemistry of the cell.
The anonymous observer read the story in the newspaper with awe — and then happened to glance at the fish tank. Frisky, the family’s pet snail, had given birth.
Nothing about Frisky’s appearance or conduct had given us the slightest intimation of the blessed event; and gazing at the little newcomer, we grew very humble, and threw the morning paper away. Life was as mysterious as ever.
I don’t believe that items, as a form, should be taught, analyzed or organized into taxonomies, so I use the word “classic” with fear, hoping this small group of readers will keep an indiscretion in confidence. But “Mysteries of Life” is a classic.
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