James Marshall--great fan of dramatic irony--likes when we can chuckle at Martha. We laugh when she believes her silly photo is a work of art. We laugh when she decides this same photo would make a wonderful and very serious gift for a friend.
I'm not sure if Marshall discussed dramatic irony with his collaborator, Harry Allard. But the two men built a series--"The Stupids"--on this one concept.
In "The Stupids Die," we the readers are much wiser than the Stupids. That family! They eagerly await "something stupid happening today." They "mow the carpet." Mrs. Stupid believes that "a loud dress" is literally "a loud dress," so she tapes some clucking chickens to her underwear. ("I hope it's not *too* loud.")
When the son, Buster, eats with his toes, this is applauded as a major step forward.
A book needs a plot, so, towards the end, Allard and Marshall plunge their characters into crisis. All the lights go out. Crazily, the Stupids conclude that they have died. When their wise pets Kitty and Xylophone do some good work with the circuit breakers, the lights come back on, and the Stupids decide they must now be in Heaven.
But, says a visitor: "This isn't Heaven. This is Cleveland."
Disappointed, the Stupids go to bed.
Getting ready to sleep, Mr. Stupid says something shocking and inevitable: "I'm sorry, my dear, that nothing stupid really happened today. But we still had fun."
I find this work therapeutic, at this particular stage in our national history. A tour de force. Recommended.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-dysSHTK2Rk
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