The Art of Conversation - Catherine Blyth [94]
Or should we? The word is under attack. Novelist Sandra Howard argued that it has become so devalued as to be meaningless. Certainly, often it prefaces self-justification or refusals to compromise: “Sorry, you had it coming,” “Sorry, but it was your idea,” “Sorry you feel that way, but we will go ahead.” However, as these examples show, the word isn’t at fault; the problem is tagging others onto it, demoting “sorry” to the prelude to a squabble over responsibility.
Apologizing is a finely balanced art, of judgment more than self-expression. Far from a negotiating point, “sorry” should be a final concession, and every self-exculpatory word you add puts more blame on you. If the story is complicated, explain what you think happened, showing your regret without accepting full responsibility. If the fault is yours, say so.
Yielding should steer dispute to an end. And bear in mind that rolling over too soon may be damaging. Charles I advised Lord Wentworth,
Never make a defence or an apology before you be accused.
But then, as history relates, had Charles bowed to his people, he might have kept his head.
15
ARE YOU RECEIVING ME? On Stitching Conversation into Your Life
Why did ex-supermodel Christy Turlington cast her BlackBerry in bronze?
To save her marriage.
Adultery with an elfin communication console has yet to enter the statutes, but how many of us have not felt, like this lady, harassed by
the sudden violent irruptions of unnecessary possibilities into our daily lives, the incessant wrenching of the mind away from one subject and bringing it to bear upon another, the constant need of making decisions, albeit of the most trivial and unimportant kind. How is it possible under these conditions to think to any purpose? How can our rolling minds gather any moss?
Lady Florence Bell, to give her full title—she of the absurd small-talk book—was bemoaning the invention of her namesake, Alexander Graham Bell, the telephone. She was writing in 1907. One century on, her objections have a sinisterly modern ring.
But unless you’re a multimillionaire yogini or aristocratic aesthete, junking technology and retreating to the tranquillity of an eco-friendly yurt, while assistants take care of business, probably isn’t an option. And would you wish it?
Modern conveniences free time to talk. Julie Burchill defended superstores for
the buzz of getting things done quickly so one can then move on and do something one loves, be it sex, conversation or lazing away the day on the sofa or the beach.
All the same, what if home is a high-rise, or you don’t own a car, or you live alone?
Conversation need not have a purpose to have a point. Unfortunately, the price of many of our conveniences is the loose change of socializing, with inconvenient long-term costs that sociologists, teachers, and psychologists are only beginning to count. Points of contact that once sewed the day together are being unpicked: The rise of electronic banking, the demise of post offices and corner shops, condemn many, especially the old and poor, to stay at home.
I don’t deny technology makes life more kaleidoscopic. On the upside, with communication technology, fresh opportunities to make connections abound. I love that I can twitter to a guy in Albuquerque about Gorgonzola cheese. On the downside, it rarely encourages us to prize unalloyed moments together, and I would point out to Professor Martin Jones, author of Feast: Why Humans Share Food, that TV dinners bring families no nearer the conviviality of our grizzled ancestors, gawking at crackling fires, than the Victorian dining room did—at least, not in promoting talk; not unless there is only one TV set and no phone, stereo, Xbox, or computer to compete. However, in 2007, 40 percent of British under-fours had a TV in their bedroom....
Our gizmos make great diagnostic tools for measuring other people