The Wit's Guide to Merrymaking
Or, not trivial to be convivial
If merrymaking were a modern concept, we would hate it. To manufacture fun, engineer bliss, fabricate cheer, and optimize glee all sound like dutiful actions performed in a dystopia. What’s worse, they seem like they’d backfire, as per this line:
“There is nothing more tedious than a constant round of gaiety.”
— Margery Sharp
The idea of merrymaking dates back to the 17th century, so we can be reasonably confident it wasn’t devised by someone trying to sell us something. To modern ears it sounds quaint, like something to do while you’re waiting for the butter to churn. (Or do we have to go churn it?) But consider that the closest synonym to merrymaking is conviviality, which directly translates as “living together.” We’re still doing that today, mostly!
“Happy and alone, you say? Reclusive and merry? How oxymoronic! Pas possible! Alas, the concept is lost on so many.”
— Caroline Knapp
In his influential 1973 book Tools for Conviviality, the philosopher Ivan Illich separated the technologies that help us live together, like bicycles, from those that separate us, like cars. Illich expressed some consternation in choosing the word convivial, worrying in his introduction that “in English ‘convivial’ now seeks the company of tipsy jollyness,” which was the opposite of the graceful playfulness he intended. I think he overthought it, as both definitions exit for a reason and a good host can find the artful balance between the two. Which might be easier with a drink in hand.
“I entertained on a cruising trip that was so much fun that I had to sink my yacht to make my guests go home.”
— F. Scott Fitzgerald
There is, at any good merrymaking event, a lack of hierarchy. The owner of the establishment is serving you, after all. Unless they start playing Get the Guests, like in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf. Or if you have guests like Christopher Hitchens, who would needle an inattentive host by dropping his empty glass on the floor and loudly announcing that there was no need to worry because there was nothing in it.
“The cocktail party — as the name itself indicates — was originally invented by dogs. They are simply bottom-sniffings raised to the rank of formal ceremonies.”
— Laurence Durrel
Frans Hals, the Dutch master whose luminous work is featured above and in many past issues of this newsletter, is effectively the eternal artist-in-residence of merrymaking. His subjects always have a gleam in their eye or a curl on their lips, and as a result they feel magnificently alive. His painting style was loose and fun and that put him at odds with the fussy and precise work of his contemporaries. And because he painted people drinking, he was rumoured to be a drunkard and fell out of fashion for a few hundred years. But now we recognize his genius, so Hals well that ends well.
“I never have a merry thought without being vexed at having to keep it to myself, with nobody to share it.”
— Montaigne
“Eat, drink and be merry” comes from the Bible, as does “eat and drink, for tomorrow we die,” and they’re often mashed together. Like the multiple definitions of the word convivial, there’s probably a deeper reason for this. As the song goes, enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think.
“Strange to see how a good dinner and feasting reconciles everybody.”
— Samuel Pepys
How does one make merry at this advanced stage of human history? Your mileage may vary, but here’s my plan: There’s a wonderful restaurant in the Outer Reaches of Scarborough called Sumilicious, which was founded by Sri Lankans who worked for many years at Schwartz’s Delicatessen in Montreal before fleeing to Toronto. They’re all about meltingly good smoked meat, and in the corner of the menu they mention spiced smoked turkey, duck, and chicken available by special request. So I’ve ordered up a spismoturducken, invited the whole book club over for dinner, prechilled a bottle of Negronis, and will try not to forget how late it is.
The Strategic Riposte Card Stockpile
Why, my wonderful paid subscribers outside of Canada may wonder, haven’t we received the above Riposte Cards to which we are so richly entitled? It’s because there’s still a postal strike in this country, and it doesn’t seem like it’s gonna end any time soon. Why? It was the subject of my News Quiz in the Toronto Star last week, so do click through if you want every mail delivery pun I could cram into a self-obsessed stamped envelope.
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“Good food is a benign weapon against the sodden way we live.”
— Jim Harrison
Ever notice how if you say “food and water” it sounds like basic sustenance but if you say “food and drink,” it sounds like a party? It could be the same food!
That was Get Wit Quick No. 284, which hopefully sparks a few nanolumens of merriment, but don’t spend too much time trying to measure it or you’ll miss out on the fun. My book Elements of Wit: Mastering The Art of Being Interesting can be used to prop up a wobbly punchbowl, but probably better to empty it into your guests, thus rendering them wobbly. Heart tapping is perhaps another synonym for merrymaking, so do tap the ❤️ below.