One way to acquire at least a reputation for wit is to fill up on entertaining, abstruse anecdotes that make you sound brighter than your listeners. And what better time to acquire that conversational edge than when relaxing on holiday or indulging in a long soak in the bath? The only requirement is that the books you skim will give you a good return on invested time.
Begin with a skinny book that promises much – and delivers. Philosopher Simon Critchley’s On Humour (Routledge, £7.99) is dripping with sharp quotes and neat jokes. An offer of a second cup of tea to a French intellectual brings the elegant refusal, “Non, je suis mono-thé-isteâ€. Critchley shares out the buried joke: philosopher Emmanuel Levinas specialised in monotheism. He follows up with a Tommy Cooper gem: “So I got home and the phone’s ringing. ‘Who’s speaking please?’ A voice down the line says, ‘You are.'†Of course, this will all sound more impressive when you sprinkle in a little of Critchley’s argument that we aren’t just Homo ludens, as Huizanga argued, but Homo ridens, and pepper it with his idea that “human†isn’t a single category but a negotiation between categories. Definitely time well invested.
What else matches up to its wit and history? Well, you could take the contrarian route. Try Mark Carwardine and Ken Watterson’s The Shark-Watcher’s Handbook (BBC Books, £16.99). Here are loving portraits of nature’s greatest gross-out eaters, with full details of how to get close to them. “Imagine drifting in a strong current, with more potentially dangerous sharks than fellow divers, at depths of 30 metres or more – and you begin to understand the appeal of Protea Banks.†This trip to Kwazulu-Natal waters is not, say the authors, for the faint-hearted or inexperienced. But it would make a stunning “what I did on my holidays†tale.
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Or you could arm yourself for the increasingly acrimonious debate about the return or non-return of the marbles from the Parthenon. Classicists suffer from an outdated image – silent libraries and secret etymological glee as they pursue a word across time and cultures. Mary Beard’s brilliant The Parthenon (Profile) should put paid to that. Her engagement with both modern and ancient worlds is impressive, as is her erudition and liveliness.
Armed with sharks, jokes, philosophy and a take on the construction of the classic canon, you should be able to take on any intellectual beachcombers.