The Book in Action?

The best way to enjoy The Cokesbury Party Book, of course, is to observe one of the parties listed therein in action. I have, as yet, not been brave enough to host such a party, because my wife and I already have the reputation for being among the most boring hosts on the planet, a reputation we don't need help shaping.

But are these parties boring? I don't know. From an ironical standpoint, they're at least darned interesting.

Sinclair Lewis, in his novel Main Street, walks us through such a party -- themed similarly to parties in the Cokesbury book -- given by Carol Kennicott at her home in the village of Gopher Prarie ostensibly to shake the town's denizens out of their party mold of bringing out the same old stories, the same old gags, the same old "stunts" that they trot out at any party, much like the midly entertaining uncle we all have who tells the same stories at every party he attends and gets laughs, because everyone knows the stories and loves their uncle too much not to laugh.

So here are bits of Carol's party, taken from Chapter 7 of the book:

"We're going to do something exciting," Carol exclaimed to her new confidante, Vida Sherwin. She saw that in the growing quiet her voice had carried across the room. Nat Hicks, Ella Stowbody, and Dave Dyer were abstracted, fingers and lips slightly moving. She knew with a cold certainty that Dave was rehearsing his "stunt" about the Norwegian catching the hen, Ella running over the first lines of "An Old Sweetheart of Mine," and Nat thinking of his popular parody on Mark Antony's oration.

"But I will not have anybody use the word 'stunt' in my house," she whispered to Miss Sherwin.

The grinning Bea brought down-stairs a pile of soft thick sheets of paper with designs of lotos blossoms, dragons, apes, in cobalt and crimson and gray, and patterns of purple birds flying among sea-green trees in the valleys of Nowhere.

"These," Carol announced, "are real Chinese masquerade costumes. I got them from an importing shop in Minneapolis. You are to put them on over your clothes, and please forget that you are Minnesotans, and turn into mandarins and coolies and--and samurai (isn't it?), and anything else you can think of."

While they were shyly rustling the paper costumes she disappeared. Ten minutes after she gazed down from the stairs upon grotesquely ruddy Yankee heads above Oriental robes, and cried to them, "The Princess Winky Poo salutes her court!"

I've got to admit that the second the Princess Winky Poo saluted her court, the part of the court that represented me would have taken a quick hiatus until the entire hullabaloo was over. Especially considering what happens next:

As they looked up she caught their suspense of admiration. They saw an airy figure in trousers and coat of green brocade edged with gold; a high gold collar under a proud chin; black hair pierced with jade pins; a languid peacock fan in an out-stretched hand; eyes uplifted to a vision of pagoda towers. When she dropped her pose and smiled down she discovered Kennicott apoplectic with domestic pride--and gray Guy Pollock staring beseechingly. For a second she saw nothing in all the pink and brown mass of their faces save the hunger of the two men.

She shook off the spell and ran down. "We're going to have a real Chinese concert. Messrs. Pollock, Kennicott, and, well, Stowbody are drummers; the rest of us sing and play the fife."

The fifes were combs with tissue paper; the drums were tabourets and the sewing-table. Loren Wheeler, editor of the Dauntless, led the orchestra, with a ruler and a totally inaccurate sense of rhythm. The music was a reminiscence of tom-toms heard at circus fortune-telling tents or at the Minnesota State Fair, but the whole company pounded and puffed and whined in a sing-song, and looked rapturous.

Soooo, anyone for Trivial Pursuit? Did people really have parties like this? Is this what made Prohibition such an unattractive thing? Of course, this takes place before Prohibition, if such a thing can be imagined. Yes, it's a conservative small town. But these are educated people, especially Carol, leader of the pack.

And remember, the party has a theme. Read on:

Before they were quite tired of the concert Carol led them in a dancing procession to the dining-room, to blue bowls of chow mein, with Lichee nuts and ginger preserved in syrup.

None of them save that city-rounder Harry Haydock had heard of any Chinese dish except chop sooey. With agreeable doubt they ventured through the bamboo shoots into the golden fried noodles of the chow mein; and Dave Dyer did a not very humorous Chinese dance with Nat Hicks; and there was hubbub and contentment.

Hubbub and contentment. That's the goal of any party, right? Now remember your host here (me). I must admit the best contentment from a party thrown at our house comes when the last guest has left and I can finally sop having a good time and start enjoying myself -- reverting to my hermit ways as my own hermit wife does the same thing. Why, a few weeks ago we did have a conversation. Via chat in Facebook. And our computers sit kitty-corner to each other in the study. So we're not the partying types.

And we do go to themed parties these days. Well, themed as we allow them to get. My favorite includes the theme of Adults Play Board Games in the Basement while the Children Wander Aimlessly Upstairs, Upset Bowls of Ice Cubes and Neglect to Clean them Up. The theme is getting together. We don't have board game-themed food. Thank Heaven. What kind of food goes with "The Family Business," a card game wherein each player represents a mob family out for blood against the others?

So did they have fun at these parties, like the parties in the Cokesbury book? Evidently so. Witness what was written in The Dauntless, Gopher Prarie's paper the week following the event:

One of the most delightful social events of recent months was held Wednesday evening in the housewarming of Dr. and Mrs. Kennicott, who have completely redecorated their charming home on Poplar Street, and is now extremely nifty in modern color scheme. The doctor and his bride were at home to their numerous friends and a number of novelties in diversions were held, including a Chinese orchestra in original and genuine Oriental costumes, of which Ye Editor was leader. Dainty refreshments were served in true Oriental style, and one and all voted a delightful time.

Yee-haw.

Tomorrow, we get to the first party -- a wild celebration of the New Year that involves spelling, make-up, bound women and oysters. But not in the way you'd expect.