The Diary of a Nobody by George and Weedon Grossmith

I swear I really do have a sense of humor. Just last week I laughed out loud while reading P.G. Wodehouse. But although this 1892 novel is billed as "the jewel at the heart of English comic literature" and "hilarious," I did not find it funny, not at all, not one little bit. In fact, I thought it was kind of sad.

Charles Pooter is a lower-middle class office clerk with a wife and one grown son. His diary records the day-to-day minor details of his ordinary life -- his worrisome interactions with tradesmen, his sometimes-annoying friends, his frivolous son, his frustrations at work. Occasionally, something out-of-the-ordinary occurs, such as an invitation to a party or a seance. He is always concerned with keeping up with appearances. He fancies himself a wit, making bad puns frequently (but not so bad as to be funny, unfortunately). He appears to be extremely accident-prone, frequently tripping and stumbling over things. He is all-in-all quite satisfied with his limited life.

I can see that all this could be made more obviously humorous with exaggeration or a different tone, and told from a different point of view perhaps. As it is, however, the comedy must be too subtle and too English for my dense American mind to appreciate.