I think Renaissance scholar Baldassare Castiglione was the
first person in history to endorse the classic smile-and-nod technique used so
often at cocktail parties across the country. When confronted with a
conversation about something completely foreign to you, Castiglione said a true
gentleman always pretends to know what the other is talking about. Duly noted.
Following Castiglione’s word, I pulled the trusty
smile-and-nod several weeks ago. While watching an evening news show with a
friend of mine, the newsanchor casually likened a tense political imbroglio to
the book “Catch-22.”
My friend let out a solemn “hmm” and I had no choice but to
do the same. Apparently, much to the delight of my friend, I was in complete
agreement. But of course, like most of my knee-jerk social reactions, it was a
big mistake. My tacit familiarity with the book prompted a frighteningly
unexpected conversation about “Catch-22” — a novel I haven’t read.
Oh, the travails of true gentlemen.
Don’t get me wrong; I am literate and have read my fair
share of books, but I’ll admit 97 percent of these are exclusively nonfiction.
The remaining 3 percent is made up of the impenetrable kind of fiction I had to
read in high school, the first Harry Potter installment and an ill-advised
decision to familiarize myself with Faulkner at the naive age of 12. For all I
know, maybe it was Faulkner who forever eroded my interest in fiction. But in
any case, “Catch-22” never made it to my bookshelf.
That’s not to say I had never before heard of the storied
novel. In fact, it seems to be a very popular allusion in the media. I also
know it’s fairly common for English speakers to use words and phrases derived
from so-called classic works of literature, some words no stranger to a handful
of my recent papers: Herculean (“strong,” from Greek mythology), Lilliputian
(“very small,” from “Gulliver’s Travels”), chortle (“gleeful laugh,” from Lewis
Carroll’s “Jabberwocky”) and, of course, the innumerable contributions
Shakespeare has made to the English language (“one fell swoop,” “tongue tied,”
“no rhyme or reason,” etc.).
In addition to literature, the king’s language has adopted
words and expressions from a number of other sources, typically history
(balkanize), mythology (Sisyphean), people (bowdlerize) and foreign languages.
To be sure, the latter is often driven by pretension or affectation, but
occasionally there are times when a concept simply can’t be as precisely (or as
economically) expressed in English as it can be with, for instance, German’s
schadenfreude (taking pleasure in others’ pain) or Italian’s al dente
(gastronomical term meaning “not too hard but not too soft”).
Catch-22 is no exception. By using only one word, you
encapsulate an entire situation, saving yourself a boatload of excess phraseology.
But one thing is still puzzling: How did Joseph Heller’s
nonmythological, nonforeign, circa 1961 novel manage to circumvent that waiting
period of 100 or more years to be inducted into our vernacular?
I valiantly took on the task. After a good deal of
Wikipedia-ing, Sparknotes-ing and asking around, the meaning and concept of
Catch-22 became clear. The book tells of a World War II Air Force squadron
based on a small Italian island where airman and protagonist Yossarian is under
the purview of some humorously inept superiors (one of whom is promoted to the
rank of major thanks to a fortuitous computer glitch) who promise the pilots
they can return home as soon as they finish a certain number of missions.
Unfortunately, that number continues to increase, dashing
the hopes of the homesick bombardiers. The only escape for these men is to be
declared mentally unstable and thus incapable of flying. To do this, they must
submit an exemption report; but in the eyes of their superiors, if one is
cognizant enough to submit such a document, he is clearly not insane. Yes,
that’s right, the airmen are in a Catch-22.
When looking for work this past summer, I remember including
my “permanent address” on some of the job applications. To apply for a job, it
is clear you need a permanent residence, but to have one, don’t you need a job
to pay for it? Where does that leave job-seeking people with no permanent
address? Yup — another Catch-22.
Thanks to Wikipedia, Sparknotes, Castiglione and my
TV-news-watching friend of superior intelligence, I am now enlightened: I will
definitely make a point to throw around Catch-22 in conversation as if it were
my job — no permanent residence required.