You cannot eat a meal in decency without the aid of the Five Towns

They are unique and indispensable. From the north of the county right down to the south they alone stand for civilization, applied science, organized manufacture, and the century—until you come to Wolverhampton. They are unique and indispensable because you cannot drink tea out of a teacup without the aid of the Five Towns; because you cannot eat a meal in decency without the aid of the Five Towns.

A. Bennett, The old wives' tale (1908), 2

And if you have no word for blue, how can you see it?

Since then a more sober explanation has taken hold as the orthodoxy. Analysis of the way in which languages produce words for different colours has revealed that the process is surprisingly consistent, throughout the world and throughout history. In 1969, linguist Paul Kay and anthropologist Brent Berlin published Basic Color Terms: Their Universality and Evolution. It offered, among others, one pertinent hypothesis. If a language had only three basic colour categories, they were almost always words for black/dark, white/light and red. If it had four or five categories, then the additional words tended to refer to green or yellow. Only once a language had six or more basic colour categories did you begin to see more complex colours given their own word. Among those was the colour that we would call blue. In the view of Kay and Berlin, Homer’s Greek didn’t have a word for blue. Colour exists on a spectrum; what isn’t obvious is how you break that spectrum down into different categories. Where does one colour stop, if you don’t have words to describe the two colours either side of the barrier? And if you have no word for blue, how can you see it?

N. Leamon & B. Jones, Hitting Against the Spin: How Cricket Really Works (2021), loc.4,454

Standard deviation ... has fallen steadily year on year and decade on decade

You can see a very clear example of this in baseball. Scoring levels have stayed relatively constant in baseball for 100 years. A good batting average in the 1930s is still a good batting average. But if you look at the standard deviation (a measure of variance, of how spread out the individual scores are) of players’ batting averages by season, it has fallen steadily year on year and decade on decade. Players have collectively averaged the same, but the averages of the best and the averages of the worst each year have got closer and closer together.

N. Leamon & B. Jones, Hitting Against the Spin: How Cricket Really Works (2021), loc.2,338

In county cricket, 81 per cent of balls are bowled at slower than 82 mph

In county cricket, 81 per cent of balls are bowled at slower than 82 mph, and almost no deliveries are above 88 mph. Compare that to Test cricket, where over 60 per cent of the balls bowled are over 82 mph and 17 per cent are over 88 mph. We also move from bouncers making up 4 per cent of balls bowled in county cricket, to nearly three times that many in Test cricket (11 per cent).

N. Leamon & B. Jones, Hitting Against the Spin: How Cricket Really Works (2021), loc.827

You should not be allowed to remove a rule or a tradition unless and until you fully understand the reasons why it was first put in place, and all the effects that its presence has

There was once a man who had a long way to walk to work, and every day he had to go well out of his way because a large hedge blocked the most direct route. Every day he walked over a mile further in the morning, and again on his way home in the evening because the hedge was in his way. Day after day, he looked at the hedge and thought, If that hedge wasn’t there, I could save myself an hour of walking every day. Eventually he had had enough and decided to make a hole in the hedge so that he could walk the shorter route and save himself time. And that was the day that the bull who lived on the other side of the hedge killed him. Chesterton used the story to illustrate his principle that you should not be allowed to remove a rule or a tradition unless and until you fully understand the reasons why it was first put in place, and all the effects that its presence has.

N. Leamon & B. Jones, Hitting Against the Spin: How Cricket Really Works (2021), loc.159

We took a Germanic language and enfolded it with Norman French and a bunch of Latin and ever since we keep building out

I miss being at home in a culture. Using English with other native speakers is what I might miss most. For nuance and verve, English wins. We took a Germanic language and enfolded it with Norman French and a bunch of Latin and ever since we keep building out. Our words, our expanse of idioms, are expressive and creative and precise, like our music and our subcultures and our street style, our passion for violence, stupidity, and freedom. The French might have better novels (Balzac, Zola, and Flaubert) and they have better cheeses (Comté, Roquefort, Cabécou). But in the grand scheme that’s basically nothing.

R. Kushner, Creation lake (2024). loc 2,808

Having a good accent is nothing. It’s a consolation prize for people who aren’t fluent

I started working in Europe, in the private sector, taking advantage of the fact I speak French, Italian, Spanish, and German. I’m fluent in all those languages, although I speak them with a strong American accent. (People think fluency is about having a good accent. It isn’t. Fluency is about how well you understand the language, and how well you are able to speak it. Having a good accent is nothing. It’s a consolation prize for people who aren’t fluent.)

R. Kushner, Creation lake (2024). loc 699

Reading in bed is a precision art

Reading in bed is a precision art – knowing the right wattage, high enough to read by, low enough to fall asleep with the light still on, choosing books not for their content but for their size and weight, knowing the right position in bed so the book won’t slide off and hit the floor and wake you again.

A. Michaels, Held (2024), loc. 1,059

When the lights of Cape Town come they’re a talon that marks the beginning, or end, of a continent

When the lights of Cape Town come they’re a talon that marks the beginning, or end, of a continent of several thousand miles. The ascending orbit moves up its coast, Mozambique, Tanzania, Kenya, Somalia. Africa is dusty brown in the moonlit night, sparsely clouded, and electrified by lightning across its breadth. Its city lights are discreet and scant. Maputo here, Harare there, Lusaka over there, Mombasa ahead, and each is a small heap of gold coins on a tapestried cloth, joined by nothing – no night-lit roads or urban sprawl. A beautiful velvety poverty of man on an earth that tips into the void; you feel you’d fall off, except with each new moment there’s yet more earth, and you follow its trail across the Gulf of Aden to the Middle East.

S. Harvey, Orbital (2024), loc. 1,825

The last thing you need is to get sick in space

Absently Anton runs his fingers over a lump that’s appeared on his neck the last fortnight and that he tries to obscure by raising the collar of his polo shirt. The last thing you need is to get sick in space. They’ll worry and send you home and, because you can’t fly back on your own, two others will have to go with you, and to cut short the missions of those two others would be unforgivable. He’ll say nothing to the flight surgeon or to his fellow crew and he’ll hope nobody notices. It’s the size of a cherry in the low hollow of his neck, and perfectly painless.

S. Harvey, Orbital (2024), loc. 1,359

From the space station’s distance mankind is a creature that comes out only at night

From the space station’s distance mankind is a creature that comes out only at night. Mankind is the light of cities and the illuminated filament of roads. By day, it’s gone. It hides in plain sight.

S. Harvey, Orbital (2024), loc. 302

She would survive the blazing heat and tumble of her re-entry only to be pulled from her capsule and fold like a paper crane

Anyone in Mongolia or those easternmost wildernesses of Russia, or anyone at least who knows about such things, would be aware that now, in their cold afternoon sky, higher than any aeroplane, a spacecraft is passing and that some human is up there hefting a lift-bar with her legs, willing her muscles not to give in to the seduction of weightlessness, nor her bones to birdness. Else that poor spacefarer will be in all kinds of trouble when she lands back on earth where legs, once more, are very much a thing. Without that hefting and sweating and pressing she would survive the blazing heat and tumble of her re-entry only to be pulled from her capsule and fold like a paper crane.

S. Harvey, Orbital (2024), loc. 268

They wield their language like a club against their enemies

Though his surname is Afrikaans, though his father is more Afrikaans than English, though he himself speaks Afrikaans without any English accent, he could not pass for a moment as an Afrikaner. The range of Afrikaans he commands is thin and bodiless; there is a whole dense world of slang and allusion commanded by real Afrikaans boys—of which obscenity is only a part—to which he has no access. There is a manner that Afrikaners have in common too—a surliness, an intransigence, and, not far behind it, a threat of physical force (he thinks of them as rhinoceroses, huge, lumbering, strong-sinewed, thudding against each other as they pass)—that he does not share and in fact shrinks from. They wield their language like a club against their enemies.

J.M. Coetzee, Boyhood (1997), 124

Imagine having the power to command the ocean. It makes my fingers itch to possess it.

Mother gestures for us to fall in behind her as she and the priest lead the way towards the wooden church, the crowd parting like the sea before Moses. That’s one Bible story I like. Forget all the business with healing the blind and washing the feet of the poor. Imagine having the power to command the ocean. It makes my fingers itch to possess it.

L. Holland, Sistersong (2021), 24

The essence of Austria is not the center but the periphery

Of course, it is the Slovenes, the Polish and Ruthenian Galicians, the caftan Jews from Boryslaw, the horse traders from Bacska, the Muslims from Sarajevo, the Maroni crickets from Mostar who sing our national anthem 'Gott Erhalte.' But the German students from Brunn and Eger, the dentists, pharmacists, hairdresser's assistants, art photographers from Linz, Graz, Knittelfeld, the goiters from the Alpine valleys, they all sing 'Die Wacht am Rhein.' Austria will perish for this loyalty to the Nibelung, gentlemen! The essence of Austria is not the center but the periphery. Austria is not to be found in the Alps, where you find chamois, edelweiss, and gentians, but hardly any trace of a double eagle.

J. Roth, The Emperor's Tomb (1938), loc. 168

One could be a Nazi without ever seeing or thinking about Jews

It irked me that nobody in England seemed to grasp that Nazism had been about building a new world order based on the noble ideals I still found so satisfying. For it had not taken me many weeks in the country to discover that the English definition of Nazi could be summed up in a single word, ‘Jew-gasser’. That was so misguided, such a mistake. Yes, we were taught to despise Jews, but what English people didn’t seem to appreciate was that for Nazis like me everything to do with Jews had been a minor issue, that one could be a Nazi without ever seeing or thinking about Jews.

K. Fitzherbert, True to both my selves (1997), loc. 3630

I think about these kind of things a lot. The ability to see things selectively without even trying is underappreciated in historical (and political) analysis.