Saying yes, then no
How to back out of long-made plans, plus critiquing really bad poetry.
Between now and midsummer, there is exactly one weekend when my spouse and I don’t have child-tending, a crush of work, visitors, etc. Long ago, we accepted an invitation to join friends at a wine tasting they’d won at a silent auction – on the Saturday of that now-precious weekend. If we give them a month’s notice, can we back out? I’m honored they asked us, but, oh, to be able to go somewhere to stick my toes in the sand and veg out would be a sanity saver. A.L. / Branford, Connecticut I know the strict etiquette advice is that you must honor your commitments – but, oh, how I sympathize! And I’m sure your friends will, too. We all have such complicated and demanding lives nowadays, who could fail to understand your dilemma? Your friends might even feel slightly relieved to find that they’re not the only ones who have to bail out on events occasionally. Etiquette is meant to make social relations more pleasant, not less – so you have my permission to drop out as long as you give your friends a sincere apology and plenty of time to find someone for whom the wine tasting would itself be a stress-reliever instead of a stress-inducer. Do make it a good apology, and schedule some alternate plans with them so that they’ll know not to take it personally. If they have a sense of humor, you might want to send them a DVD of the movie Sideways with a note saying, “This is why highly stressed-out people should not attend wine tastings!”
As a former art major now in medicine, I enjoy cultivating friendships with right-brain types. But the words I have come to dread hearing from some of these friends are “I’m sending you a [vanity-pressed] book of my poetry [screenplay, novel], and I really want to know what you think!” The latest poetry submission was incomprehensible: cryptic, morose, and tangential. I feel I must offer my friend some complimentary reviews but don’t want to be disingenuous or look like a dolt by admitting I didn’t really “get” a single poem. How can one navigate this potential minefield? G.Z. / Jamaica Plain Gentle readers, G.Z. was kind enough to send me a sample poem from her friend’s collection, and it was indeed as described. In fact, G.Z., if you wanted to keep your day job in medicine and do a bit of arts criticism on the side, I think you’d be well suited to it.
Giving your thoughts on a published work is different from critiquing a rough draft, for the same reason that you don’t tell someone his fly was down after the big stockholders’ meeting, when he can’t do anything about it. (For advice on editing friends’ writing, check my blog at boston.com/missconduct.) But you needn’t conjure wild compliments that you don’t feel. Go with vivid adjectives that neither praise nor damn. “Cryptic, morose, and tangential” could just as easily be “cryptic, moody, and impressionistic,” which is probably exactly what your friend intended her collection to be. Lead with that, and then start asking questions: “So, who were your influences? What effect were you going for with this poem? These two poems remind me of each other; did you write them both around the same time?” Your friend will be so delighted to describe her creative process that she won’t even notice that you’ve avoided a global critique.
It’s much the same as when you’re asked to admire a friend’s Hitchcock-resembling baby: You say something enthusiastic but neutral, like “Oh, look at those eyes!” and then start asking, “Is he an easy baby? Is he a big eater? What’s the biggest change in your life since you had him?” When you can’t generate great enthusiasm for the product, intelligent questions about the process will do just as well.
Miss Conduct is Robin Abrahams, a Cambridge-based writer with a PhD in psychology. Got a question or comment? Write to missconduct@globe.com. BLOG Read more of Miss Conduct’s wit and wisdom at boston.com/missconduct. CHAT Get advice live this Wednesday, noon to 1 p.m., at boston.com. 
