Art
that makes people happy is guaranteed to make certain other people itchy. The
notion of deriving pleasure -- more than pleasure: felicity -- from artistic
creation arouses deep suspicion in some. Art is serious stuff, and nothing is
less serious than happiness. Every sophisticate knows that. Terry Teachout has
recycled a ten-year-old post devoted to the music he listens to whenever he
feels “the urgent need to upgrade my mood.” He writes, “I’ve always found music
to be one of the most potent means of attitude adjustment known to man,” and his
experience jibes with mine. (Hello, Jack Teagarden. Hello, Paul Desmond.)
Music’s impact is prompt and unambiguous. In contrast, literature is an oral
ingestion of medicine compared to the intravenous immediacy of music. Happiness,
however, is not the only reason to read. Many great works are unequivocally
unhappy, or describe unhappy circumstances. Likewise, happiness means many
contradictory things. Given all that, here is an unpremeditated sampler of
printed matter that reliably makes me happy:
Most
anything by A.J. Liebling, Vladimir Nabokov and P.G. Wodehouse
Thomas
Traherne’s Centuries of Meditation
The
“Cruiskeen Lawn” columns of Myles na gCopaleen in the Irish Times
The
poems of Marianne Moore, Richard Wilbur and Eric Ormsby
Tristram Shandy, especially the scenes
with Uncle Toby and the Widow Wadman
The essays of Joseph Epstein and Guy Davenport
A
handful of stories by Chekhov, John Cheever and Eudora Welty
Jonathan
Swift’s “A Description of a City Shower” and “The Lady’s Dressing Room”
The
“Days Trilogy” of H.L. Mencken
Whitney
Balliett’s descriptions of jazz musicians performing
As
Terry says at the close of his musical post: “I don’t guarantee results, but
all of the items on this list can be counted on to give me a cheap, easy
high–with no side effects.”
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