Transatlantic Table Talk
Writing in the Weekend FT (subscription required), columnist Gillian Tett highlights the cultural differences between dinner party “table talk” on either side of the Atlantic.
She observes that “American professionals tend to take it for granted that when they meet over dinner they will stage a communal debate.”
…the idea is basically the 21st-century version of an 18th-century Parisian salon: the guests expect to enjoy an intellectual exchange along with the food, a conversation that might be based around a guest’s book, film, start-up or political campaign (or, failing all that, more discussion of the ultimate conversation starter, Trump).
Whereas “British rituals are different.”
Brits tend to eat later than Americans, drink far more alcohol and hate it when guests ask each other, “What do you do?” (Let alone google each others’ achievements at the table, which is common in the US.) But what generally goes unmentioned is a more important distinction: single-table conversations rarely happen in Britain.
In addition to her work writing for the FT, Tett is an anthropologist and recently appointed Provost of King’s College, Cambridge where — she notes — attempts to impose a single topic for discussion by academics dining at the high table are met with a brusque ““This is just not done here.”
She identifies the source of the difference in the way the two cultures treat intellectual capital:
In America, the creation of ideas is treated as a vital sphere of economic activity, one that philanthropists think needs to be backed, on an industrial scale, in many forums. Just as the Medicis once sponsored cathedrals or artists, today’s 21st-century luminaries use their cash to sponsor debate, turning economic capital into the cultural and intellectual variant. And since America is also a place that admires ambition and hustle, this fosters a culture of performative intellectual display, be that in a TV studio or at a dinner party.
In Britain, however, hustle is not so readily admired and ambition is sometimes derided as being pushy or showing off. Thus if you are brilliantly clever, you are admired for concealing the fact or cracking jokes about it at your own expense. Few Brits stand up in public and shout that they want to be public intellectuals; or not without a self-deprecating laugh.
For us plebs who don’t receive invitations to society dinner parties in either country, it’s worth bearing in mind that “performative intellectual display” is still very much a fact of life in many aspects of American life. Indeed, in my five decades in the States I have grown used to listening to monologues from American’s of all backgrounds: from the boating enthusiast telling you the correct way to trim a sail to the home cook describing their recipe for the perfect lasagna.
The fact I am teetotal somewhat limits my potential to enjoy the drunken revelry of British dinners, amusing as they might be.