This post is mostly personal reflections but with Poul Anderson's text as the springboard.
When Sir Carahue, the "Saracen," samples the landlord's wines and chooses the best to accompany each course:
"Holger could not resist saying, 'I thought your religion banned strong drink.'" (p. 106)
Holger should resist saying it. As a matter of fact, Sir Carahue has converted to Christianity but he should not be obliged to explain himself to Holger or to anyone else.
I think that the following line of reasoning is the height of bad manners:
I have reason to believe that this man is Muslim;
I understand that Muslims do not drink wine;
he is drinking wine;
I should point this out to him.
No, you should not point it out to him. If the man has already decided to break the rules of Islam, then that is entirely his own affair.
For many years, I did not touch any alcohol because:
I had stopped wanting to;
excessive drinking, which I used to do, definitely interferes with meditation and I just found it easier to cut it out completely.
However, I had not taken any pledge not to drink. Needless to say, I was taken to be advocating that no one should drink. When an acquaintance saw me drinking what looked like beer, she informed me that I did not drink, as if I had forgotten and needed to be reminded. I replied first that what I was drinking was in fact non-alcoholic beer and secondly, and more importantly, that I was not accountable to her for what I consumed. On a subsequent occasion, when I did accept one free glass of wine at the end of a meeting, she again informed me that I did not drink...
In another situation, a guy repeatedly and with increasing puzzlement asked me to confirm that I was vegetarian. When I had repeatedly confirmed it, he then asked, "Then what have I just seen you eating?" The penny dropped. "It was a VEGE-burger - but, if I ever decide to break my own rules, then I will..."
Blog readers might deduce that this is a sensitive issue: being labeled, then being called to account because of a label.
8 comments:
Holger is suspicious of people who seek his company; he knows hostile forces are trying to track and kill him. Any behavior that's suspicious is likely to make him antsy.
Kaor, Mr. Stirling and Paul!
Mr. Stirling: That clarifies what might otherwise have seemed rude behavior on Holger's part. He would naturally feel the need for caution and to investigate seemingly odd actions.
Paul: I do understand your point, that Holger (and the other persons you mentioned) were behaving discourteously. But, after his prior adventures, I think Holger had good reason to feel "antsy." Also, Sir Carahue himself was not offended by Holger's question, taking it in good part.
Ad astra! Sean
Thank you. I never expected so much discussion.
Another example: Someone had won a bottle of wine in a raffle. Someone else asked, "Should we inform her of it? She doesn't drink!" It had to be pointed out that, having won the bottle, she was entitled to sell it, give it as a present, pour it down the drain or break her own rules and drink it after all.
A colleague changed my car tyre for me. I asked him what kind of beer I should buy him as a thank you. He replied, "Boddingtons," so I bought half a dozen cans. Afterwards, I learned that he did not drink but had considered it appropriate to accept my offer and pass the cans on to a friend. I agreed.
I attended a particular school as Careers Adviser for three years. On my last day, the Careers Teacher gave me a bottle of whisky. Of course, I said thank you. I drove straight home where Sheila and a friend were celebrating the friend's birthday with afternoon tea and were delighted to have a bottle of whisky put on the table.
Kaor, Paul!
Good examples both, and how to handle matters in ways you found satisfactory. I think Anderson's favorite brand of beer was Carlsberg, btw.
Ad astra! Sean
I just made a pot of beef-and-vegetable stew, involving red wine. I poured myself one glass from the bottle, and put the rest in the stew.
Seriously, I've never seen the point in drinking distilled liquor: I just don't like the taste.
When Poul stayed here, I laid in some beer, knowing he liked it. I offered him Tuborg, or Schlitz. He said "I'll have the beer."
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