Mrs. Thompson's

The construction across the driveway is in its most house-jarring day yet -- *boom* *thud* *crash* and the incessant drone of a compressor -- and it was impossible to work or write here this morning. So I went to Mrs. Thompson's. Mrs. T -- aka Heather nic an Fhleisdeir (looks like a Gaelic version of Fletcher to me) -- is an herbalist with a small retail shop on the far side of downtown, by the train station. She's a very energetic young woman who travels regularly to Britain to bring back interesting stuff; they also offer Irish classes, and their An Ceangal Mara Foundation sponsors public events throughout the Celtic calendar (like one for Samhain, tonight).

My outing didn't work out as I'd hoped, however. Heather wasn't there (probably getting ready for the party), so no fun long conversations were possible. Also, I hadn't allowed myself enough time in the first place, so by the time I was ready to pay (I got my mom a book about Picts and Scots for her birthday), I ran smack into their "help each customer until they're done" rule. The practical application of this means that the clerk remains oblivious to any other people in the store as long as the person who paid for a $5 tincture 15-20 minutes ago still wants to chat. Personally, I think the net customer happiness would be greater if all were acknowledged and expedited, even if that meant that conversations had to tolerate a few interruptions. And I'm not comfortable, myself, standing there chatting while other people need help. But hey. (Anyway, after a great deal of standing there I did interrupt, with a smile, and said that I had to be elsewhere at 1 and would put the book back if I weren't rung up "now," apologized when reminded of the rule, and thanked the other customer for accepting the interruption. Polite self-assertiveness: good.)

While I was driving down there, Caitriona on KWAX (bless her!) played the Egmont Overture, giving me the idea to spend the afternoon with headphones on. Now to try to find music innocuous enough to let me work...

Marilynne Robinson

Marilynne Robinson interests me. I haven't read her famous novel, nor do I think I'd probably like it, but I sure enjoyed her essay reprinted in Harper's this summer: "The Tyranny of Petty Coercion." She writes about how social consensus has changed the meanings of words like "liberalism" and "Christian," such that it now requires courage to identify with them; the alternative is social embarrassment, which is appallingly effective, considering the dangers faced by those needing physical courage. Excerpts:

"The banishment of the word "liberal" was simultaneous with the collapse of liberalism itself... To be shamed out of the use of a word is to make a profounder concession to opinion than is consistent with personal integrity. What was at stake? Our hope for a good community. Is there any institution devoted to the enhancement of public life in this country that has not come under dire pressure? Liberalism saw to the well-being of the vulnerable. Now that it has ebbed the ranks of the vulnerable continuously swell."

Or, "The present dominance of aspersion and ridicule in American public life is a reflex of the fact that we are assumed to want, and in many cases perhaps do want, attitude much more than information. If an unhealthy percentage of the population gets its news from Jay Leno or Rush Limbaugh, it is because they are arbiters of attitude. They instruct viewers as to what, within their affinity groups, it is safe to say, cool to think. That is to say, they short circuit the functions of individual judgment and obviate the exercise of individual conscience."

This week, in honor of Robinson's new book, the New York Times did an article about her, which I've pasted here in its entirety.

"The Tyranny of Petty Coercion" (pdf)

( NYT profile of Marilynne Robinson )

Anyway, what interests me is how easily a group can pick on a word associated with a social foe, whether that's "liberal" or "feminist" or as Robinson notes, "Christian," and then use innuendo and eye-rolling to change the nuances of the word so that it becomes associated more and more with a caricatured extreme of that group, making it so that regular people become embarrassed to have that label, and their whole social program is derailed while they fight to get a new and neutral term recognized for them instead. Thus we have "liberals" having to put energy into becoming "progressives"; few women want to call themselves "feminist" no matter their actual beliefs; liberal Christians fade into the woodwork as "Christian" comes to mean born-again. It's disturbingly simple, considering how effective this tactic is, really.

(Note: Robinson went 24 years between novels; compare that with a group I read about in the paper today, which encourages people to write an entire novel in 30 days! November is National Novel Writing Month. See nanowrimo.org.)