Eccentric Irish . . . De Vries doing Faulkner . . . Max Beerbohm doing Arnold Bennett . . . Robert Benchley chasing an ant . . . Another anti-lawyers crack . . . Meaning of "anon" . . .

Are You Open to Old Ideas?

Consider this . . . The Irish Times had a story [in the ‘90s] by its "social affairs correspondent," mindfulness expert Padraig O'Morain, after reading which one is not sure if his leg has been pulled clear out of socket. "Study identifies total of 233 eccentrics in Dublin" is the head. The lead sentence calls them "eccentric vulnerable adults."

They should be registered, says a "health board"-funded survey. They should be put on an "at-risk register," that is, and their freedom perhaps "limited" because they create fire hazards, etc.

Most of them live dirtily, are suspicious and secretive, and hoard things, says the survey, but seem in good or fair health, though it's all from what others say, since eccentrics open not their doors to surveyors. True enough!

Dogs, cats, extra chairs . . . For instance, one couple let no one in but furniture delivery men. Neighbors think the furniture is going for firewood. Another's front door won't open all the way because of stuff piled in the hallway. Her kitchen is filthy except for a table corner on which sit clean cup, plate, knife and fork. She is "verbally aggressive" towards neighbors, the few times she talks to them at all.

Another lives with two dogs and five cats which seldom leave the house, producing a stench. This man has ulcers but rarely lets in even public health nurses, who are the people most likely to gain entrance to eccentrics' homes.

Nearly half have their own homes. Only a third have a history of alcohol abuse. Just over half are women. Most have no family supporting them, either because there's no family or they will have no truck with them. Over one-third live in fire hazards, because they hoard things and leave them near stove or furnace.

What to do? . . . They have the right to live as they choose, said the report, "but it may be necessary to limit this freedom when their lifestyle and environment is a cause of public concern."

Laws may be needed "to provide . . . for emergency intervention." Social service providers should stay in touch with family, neighbors, etc. But "why these people live the way they do" remains a mystery, said the Times writer, though maybe it’s from a psychiatric condition or untreatable personality disorder, says the report.

They may have missed some of these people in the Dublin area, the report's authors admit, "because of issues of confidentiality and because some organizations object to the use of the term 'eccentric.'" End of story.

You want to say quaint, but it tells a lot. The story would never have appeared in a Chicago newspaper, I think because papers assume less literacy here and because so much philosophy, in this case of social work, is left unsaid.

Another thing: The report writers are not named. We don't put up with that. Indeed, the writers might have called a news conference to announce it. But all in all, the story has a straightforward quality that lets a whole picture seep through. It ain't great literature, but it may be good journalism.

Making fun and having it . . . In his "Requiem for a Noun, or Intruder in the Dusk," Peter De Vries pictures "a cold brussels sprout" rolling off the page of the book and lying "defunctive" on his lap. It is held, furthermore, in a "fat, insolent fist" beneath a "bland, defiant face," above which hung "the shock of black hair like tangible gas."

De Vries was doing Faulkner with "reverential amusement," says Gilbert Highet in his 1962 book, Anatomy of Satire. Parody isn't always reverential, needless to say. Highet tells of Arnold Bennett reading a Max Beerbohm takeoff on him and sinking from writing thousands of words a day to none, "until the shock of this operation wore off, and the scar of Max's cautery ceased to throb." Ouch. So writers in the U. of Iowa workshop in the '60s. For quite a while after your work had been criticized by the group, you couldn't write anything, a veteran told me.

It does take a strong heart, stomach, etc., to survive criticism. One needs a keenly discerning view of readers and critics. Some are not good to listen to and must be ignored. In the after life, fine. Hear them out as angels sing in the background. But for now, find a muse and listen to her. She may lead astray but at least she leads.

Little noted item on Western reading habits . . . By the mid-18th century, more reading was being done in England partly because houses were warmer in winter and candles were better and gave more light. Thus has the race -- human, that is, and in northern climes -- developed good habits thanks in part to material progress. Take that, you Luddites.

Go to, you . . . Robert Benchley, the incomparable humorist of the 1930s and later, having read in Proverbs, "Go to the ant, thou sluggard, consider her ways and be wise," spent an afternoon in that pursuit and learned that when carrying a large crumb on his head, he should walk sideways.

You make-a me laugh . . . For the Roman poet Horace, the goal was to tell "the laughing truth," which is bad translation of good Latin but instructive anyhow. He saw truth laughing at him and responded accordingly in his Satires. Sardonic? Not he. Look it up.

Not very lawyerly . . . As if lawyers need any more potshots in their direction, Jonathan Swift in his Polite Conversation, the 3rd Dialogue has this: " . . . he's a concealer of the law." Your turn, counsel.

Delaying tactic . . . Consider "anon." In Shakespeare, as in "Henry IV, Part One," it's used by a waiter telling Falstaff he'll be right there at once. "Anon," he keeps saying but never comes. So we use it as "by and by" or "in a little while." But it meant "at once" and was used to put someone off, as in "right away" or "coming" when someone says, "Come on" and we don't come because we're busy. It’s a time-honored dodge.

— From randomly gathered considerations penned in the mid- and late '90s. —