Breakfast with the Gamaches & Why Arguments Matter

By Amy

“It had started over the fresh-squeezed orange juice, coursed through the scrambled eggs and Brie, and progressed across the fresh fruit, croissants and confitures.”

I obviously reinterpreted it.

Unlike Ruth’s meal, this one needed no modifications. I only changed it a bit in order to fit my hunger and the ingredients at hand. I realize I could have added the Brie when scrambling the eggs, but I forgot and had already made them the “usual” way – with some fresh herbs from the garden. Instead of croissants, I used my staple bread. There is no real recipe. I learned from my mom who adds “this and that” until it looks “right”, then waits for the dough to rise and bakes it. No loaf is ever like the other. I’d added some fresh maracujá fruit and lemon zest to the dough so it had a citrus zing to it. I realized I’d run out of oranges when I was going to take the picture so I just added the peppermint tisane I’d been drinking to compose the image. Reinterpreted, but close enough to the original.

“In the dining room of their apartment in Montreal’s Outremont quartier he could hear his second in command, Jean Guy Beauvoir, and his daughter Annie. They weren’t talking. They never talked. They argued.”

Don't you just love Annie? Before The Brutal Telling, her character doesn't appear much. Actually, when I read A FATAL GRACE, I thought Daniel would eventually have more of a presence in the books. I think Daniel was mostly a contrast to Beauvoir and an opportunity for us to understand how the younger inspector felt about his boss as a father figure. This book had me falling hard for Annie. She’s such a wonderful character, isn’t she?

“Annie Gamache became their cub. And grew into a lioness. But sometimes, on quiet walks together, she’d tell her father about her fears and her disappointments and the everyday sorrows of her young life. and Chief Inspector Gamache would be seized with a desire to hold her to him, so that she needn’t pretend to be so brave all the time.

“She was fierce because she was afraid. Of everything.”

Years ago, when my son mastered something that was hard for him (I can't remember exactly what it was, but it wasn’t anything big – something like tasting a new food or saying hi to a new kid), I told him he’d been brave. He said, “No I wasn’t, mommy! I was afraid!” I then proceeded to explain that courage is not absence of fear. That’s impetuousness. To be brave is to be able to face your fear, think about it, break it down into manageable parts, and try to conquer it. “You mean like Hal Jordan in the Green Lantern movie?” Ummm… Yes. Exactly.

Annie is brave. In my opinion, she's one of the pivots that turned Beauvoir into a braver man. I don’t mean a braver inspector. I mean a braver person.

“The conversation in the kitchen stopped as they listened to what he might say next. This was an argument played out every brunch, every Christmas, Thanksgiving, birthday. The words changed slightly. If not tasers they were arguing about daycare or education or the environment. If Annie said blue, Beauvoir said orange. It had been this way since Inspector Beauvoir had joined the Sureté du Québec’s homicide division, under Gamache, a dozen years earlier. He’d become a member of the team, and of the family.”

I absolutely love this. They eventually learn (spoiler alert) how to argue more effectively. Or, if not effectively, they learn how to do it nicely. I hope, for their sake and ours, that they never lose the ability to argue.

I’ve given this some thought over the years. I love to talk. Not small talk, really. I enjoy conversations where it’s possible to learn and grow and see things from different perspectives.

As a teenager, I would talk about controversial subjects because they could easily become a debate. Conversations like the ones Annie and Beauvoir “enjoyed” were right up my alley. I have grown up a bit and grown out of my infatuation with controversy. Too many people don’t know how to express their opinions or listen to other ideas without being offensive or feeling offended. All too frequently, points of view are taken to be “absolute truth”. Inarguable. So it defeats the purpose, really. These people don’t really argue. They state (and restate) their point of view and “win” the discussion through sheer stubbornness. Then there are those who are afraid to talk about what they think or believe. Some people are afraid they might change their minds or have their ideas challenged. It’s easy to get our opinions mixed up with our sense of identity. When that happens, any discussion of ideas can feel like a personal affront. That can be frightening.

“The ability we have to manipulate ourselves, so that the foundation of our beliefs is never shaken.” (ELEGANCE OF THE HEDGEHOG – by Muriel Barbery)

I still tend to enjoy arguments. I don’t mean disagreeing or fighting just for the sake of it. I don’t frequently indulge in the kind of passionate exchange Annie and Beauvoir got into whenever they met. I can't even remember the last time I did. I try to avoid in depth conversation with people who are overly enamored of their own opinion. Furthermore, whenever I talk to such people, I tend to have a little voice in my head whispering, am I like that? When am I like that? I must take care so I don't turn into someone like that!

"To recognize our bias toward error should teach us modesty and reflection, and to forgive it should help us avoid the inhumanity of thinking we ourselves are not as fallible as those who, in any instance, seem most at fault.” (WHEN I WAS A CHILD I READ BOOKS – by Marilynne Robinson)

I’d define “good” arguments as a form of debate. Dictionaries and thesauruses do place them as synonyms. Arguments can be statements proffered as evidence, or conversations where two sides disagree, or even a set of statements where you reason your way from one to another in order to reach a kind of conclusion. I also think arguments, when these definitions are taken into account, don’t necessarily have to include disagreements. You can make a statement and the person you’re talking to might ask you to explain your statement to clarify it. The other person might add to it or question it. It’s not really a disagreement, it's more of a joint effort in reasoning in search of a better statement or a more complete truth. I love that idea. Myrna and Gamache give us a good example in this scene:

“We all change. Only psychotics remain the same.”

“But isn’t that more growth than change? Like harmonics, but the note remains the same.”

“Just a variation on a theme?” asked Myrna, interested. “Not really change?” She considered. “I think that’s often the case. Most people grow but they don’t become totally different people.” (A TRICK OF THE LIGHT – Louise Penny)

I suppose what I'm saying is that arguments are, in a way, passionate dialogues.

Some people can do this in their heads. My husband is like that. He’ll think a problem through and reach a conclusion. I talk, read (or write) my way towards my ideas. I enjoy input from others, they challenge me and force me to perfect and fine-tune my ideas. In this kind of approach, you bounce thoughts off someone else and you have to be prepared to listen. You run the risk of changing your mind (which can be a good thing). Being open-minded doesn’t mean you lack an opinion. It means you’re open to being convinced (not brow-beaten) of another “truth” if your arguments (as in your reasons or justifications) for your initial “truth” aren’t as solid as the ones presented to you.

“On all sorts of grounds I would go to the barricades to defend their right to make me uncomfortable of course. They have caused me to ponder many things, to my great benefit.” (WHEN I WAS A CHILD I READ BOOKS - Marilynne Robinson)

I tend to steer clear of controversial subjects, especially with extremists. Conversations with fanatics (even those we mostly agree with) tend to be pointless and draining. Fanatics and extremists aren't, by the way, restricted to sports, religion and politics. Food is frequently an explosive topic for discussion. We once tried to order plain spaghetti for our son at a quaint restaurant in a little town in Italy. It was a hilarious conversation. Spaghetti was served with oysters. Could we have it plain? Shocked look from the server. No! Of course not! Spaghetti must be served with oysters. Could we have it with just plain tomato sauce? No! Why? Is it already mixed with the oysters? Offended look. Of course not! The pasta is cooked fresh. Um... then can we just have some of it plain before you mix the oysters with the... OF COURSE NOT! Spaghetti must be served with oysters. How do you argue with that?

On the other hand, if we stay out of  all arguments (even internal ones), we’re depriving ourselves of the chance to perfect, fine-tune, and question our own ideas and “truths” and we’re depriving those brave souls who are interested in challenging themselves, too.

"If I had lived a generation earlier, I might have thought about many of the things that interest me now, but not with the discipline that comes with writing about them or teaching, and not with the rigor that comes from being exposed to response and criticism. [...] So my mind has been formed by the uses I have been able to make of it." (WHEN I WAS A CHILD I READ BOOKS - Marilynne Robinson)

I think there are two main things to keep in mind regarding arguments and debate. One is that we have to know when to engage and when to stop. The other is figuring out who you can and can’t “argue” (or discuss, debate, converse) with and about what, and determine what each person’s limit is.

“Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other’s eyes for an instant?” (WALDEN – Henry Thoreau)

We don’t necessarily have to engage in an argument in order to learn from those we think we disagree with. Sometimes I'll write out an answer - and not hit send. Sometimes I argue with myself – just to try to think about an issue better. Sometimes I try to explain, defend, or justify a position that is alien to me as an exercise in understanding. It's like a congenital affliction. I can't help it. I don't think I could stop if I wanted to.

“Democracy, in its essence and genius, is imaginative love for and identification with a community with which, much of the time and in many ways, one may be in profound disagreement.” (WHEN i WAS A CHILD i READ BOOKS - Marilynne Robinson)

Annie and Beauvoir don’t set a very good example here in the form and tone of their interaction, but I think the scene makes me hopeful for their relationship and how much they’ll grow because they challenge each other! I don’t have many friends with which to freely “argue”, but there are three or four who come to mind. They’re special. And they know it. Sometimes we end conversations – arguments, debates, discussions – thanking each other profusely for the right to talk freely and contradict ourselves as needed.

I have told each of these friends that they are “second friends”. In his book SURPRISED BY JOY, C.S. Lewis describes the joy in finding the “first” and the “second” friends in life. I have been blessed with “second friends”.

“The First [friend] is the alter ego, the man who first reveals to you that you are not alone in the world by turning out (beyond hope) to share all your most secret delights. There is nothing to be overcome in making him your friend; he and you join like raindrops on a window. But the Second Friend is the man who disagrees with you about everything. He is not so much the alter ego as the antiself. Of course he shares your interests; otherwise he would not become your friend at all. But he has approached them all at a different angle. He has read all the right books but has got the wrong thing out of every one. It is as if he spoke your language but mispronounced it. How can he be nearly right and yet, invariably, just not right? He is as fascinating (and infuriating) as a woman. When you set out to correct his heresies, you find that he forsooth has decided to correct yours! And then you go at it, hammer and tongs, far into the night, night after night, or walking through fine country that neither gives a glance to, each learning the weight of the other’s punches, and often more like mutually respectful enemies than friends. Actually (though it never seems so at the time) you modify one another’s thought; out of this perpetual dogfight a community of mind and a deep affection emerge. But I think he changed me a good deal more than I him.” (SURPRISED BY JOY – C.S. LEWIS)

Annie and Beauvoir are Second Friends. I’m pretty sure that the concept and the attraction of the kind of friend C.S.Lewis describes is why so many romance novels use precisely this kind of interaction between the main characters to spark romance. My own “second friendships” are much (MUCH) tamer and have never reached the point of “respectful enemies” nor have any of our conversations escalated into “dogfights”. But they’ve taught me quite a lot nevertheless.

"A good sermon is one side of a passionate conversation. It has to be heard that way. There are three parties to it, of course, but so are there even to the most private thought - the self that yields the thought, the self that acknowledges and in some way responds to the thought, and the Lord. That is a remarkable thing to consider." (GILEAD - M. Robinson)

And then, of course, there are books. Books have made me think, they have challenged my ideas and thoughts about the world and myself, they have “forced” me to look through other eyes… I have also had the privilege of discussing books with other readers. The joy in book discussions is that you are able to discuss ideas, culture, feelings, relationships, history and a myriad of other issues with people from different backgrounds, genders, age groups, cultures, etc.  Sometimes you come away from a discussion and view a book differently because of someone else’s input.

I’m defending arguments (although I’m adding a caveat in that I’m defining what I believe an argument is). I don't believe that disagreements and discussions are always positive (they usually aren't, I think). Sometimes people – couples in particular – aren’t really arguing or even talking to each other. They’re just putting each other down by correcting one another all the time. It’s worse when only one person in the relationship does it. Then it’s demeaning. A kind of abuse. Remember Sandra and Thomas?

“There, you see. Can’t you just let me say something without correcting me?”

“You want to be wrong?”

“It was in the pauses. Never the words, but the hesitations. Sandra had spent the first few years ignoring it, agreeing with Thomas that she was just too sensitive. Then she’d spent a few years trying to change, to be slim enough, sophisticated enough, elegant enough. Then she’d entered therapy and spent a few years fighting back. Then she’s surrendered. And started taking it out on others.” (A RULE AGAINST MURDER – Louise Penny)

So yes. I like arguments. I like people who enjoy dialogue. I like it when someone is willing to engage and to debate and to help me become aware of the frailty of "my" truths, the incompleteness of my arguments, and the incredible amount of faith that is required for some unjustifiable beliefs (which doesn’t mean you lose faith, just that you realize how big your faith is). Conversation with people who have a different perspective is what helps us comprehend how incredibly small our view of the world is.

"People meet in life, converse, argue, fight, and do not notice that they direct themselves to one other from afar, each in his own observatory situated in a different place in time." (Milan Kundera)

To muster up the energy to argue, to discuss, to analyse, to question is really a form of showing you care about the subject at hand. Most of us only defend things we care about. An argument is a defense of an idea. If you're willing to discuss it, it means it matters. It's worth it.

"He takes it seriously, though. He thinks it's worth quarreling with." (GILEAD - M. Robinson)

I will be forever grateful for the people in my life who challenge me to be a better version of myself.

"I still have not answered your question, I know, but thank you for asking it. I may be learning something from the attempt." (LILA - Marilynne Robinson)

I’m pretty sure this post was too long, but I’ll conclude with a few last thoughts. Breakfast is an important meal. Homemade bread is yummy. I love grapes. I think coupling Annie and Beauvoir was an inspired move by Louise Penny. I love Annie’s character. And I want to grow up, like Marilynne Robinson, as an archaeologist of my own thoughts...

"Over years I have done an archaeology of my own thinking, mainly to attempt an escape from assumptions that would embarrass me if I understood their origins." (WHEN I WAS A CHILD I READ BOOKS - Marilynne Robinson)