● Lady Percy moves me - might she move you? CLICK TO FIND OUT
● Plus my novels, stories, verse, vulgar interests, apologies, and singing.
● Most posts are 300 words. I respond to all comments/re-comments.
● See Tone Deaf in New blogger.


Tuesday, 12 December 2023

Like the first sniff of a casserole

The Guardian’s Saturday edition profiles certain chosen people by posing a fixed set of questions. One question: When were you happiest?

Did you learn technical English grammar at school? - many kids now don’t. Older readers will recognise the above as the superlative form of the adjective, neither “happy” nor “happier” but “happiest”. Implying an extremity.

Alas, this concept means different things to different people. Those doing day-long manual labour might say the first step towards “happiest” would be avoiding work altogether. With others it’s both good and bad: teachers, who just want to teach kids, feel frustrated marking exercise books at midnight. Journalists, dreaming of a soccer scoop, mutely collect names at a funeral.

“Happiest”, in this context, needs further definition. Ideally it should be unique, not a repeated pleasing event. Ideally too, since happiness is a state of mind, it must involve thought. And, for goodness sake, avoid anything that’s merely socially acceptable; like the act of being married. Was it all wonderful? Me, I hated not knowing what happened next in this alien location (a church).

Other amplifications. Happiness is warm not hot, pervasive not piercing, may arrive slowly and indirectly, may not be easily discussed. I was happy when my deputy editors went on to more elevated jobs. But happiest didn’t apply.

My first singing lesson induced a new physical awareness. Tight as a drum-skin. But again, happiest didn’t apply; what was I comparing it with? The best pork sausage ever?

Hey-hoo. Parts of Out Of Arizona satisfied me. Another re-read and they got slightly better. Yet another go-through and a short, carefully slotted sentence (“Like all those things.”) hinted I might be a writer. 

Happiest? Well, stronger than “happier”.

4 comments:

  1. That's actually a tough question. I might have been happiest playing alone as child.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Colette: You're right, it is tough. That was why I did the post. "Happiest" on its own is too vague, it needs qualifying. I sought to do so, suggesting an "ideal" format. As you can see "playing alone as a child" would come under the heading "a repeated pleasing event" and thus doesn't justify the use of a superlative adjective. Another knotty point arises; in choosing a childhood event are you - thereby - rulling out events that occurred in adulthood? When, you might say, you were better equipped, mentally, to sift through a wider set of experiences and set them against a background of adult tastes.

    Tone Deaf may frequently be facetious but it doesn't avoid ontological propositions.

    Stick with me, baby,
    I'm the fella you came in with,
    Luck be a lady tonight.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Colette: I dunno why I included those three lines from Guys and Dolls. Marlon Brando, the lightest of light baritones, singing as if through his eustachian tubes. So positively rhythmic yet avoiding brass-band corniness. My two daughters have engaged me in crazy dialogues about what I want for Christmas, Secateurs but without the thumb-lock - they may not exist. Also a more powerful water-pump for the garden fountain. It's a time of foolish gestures yet we're talking garden centres. Cray-zee! In another world they'd lock me up.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. If you get a pair of hand pruning shears you love, let me know the brand and model. Cutting things in the garden is one of those things that make me happy.

      Delete