euphemisms and metaphors

excerpt from the summer book by tove jansson

'how are your legs?' verner asked.

'bad,' said grandmother heartily. 'but sometimes they seem to work all right.' and she asked him what he was doing these days.

'oh, a little of everything.' he was still offended. suddenly he burst out, 'and now backmansson is gone.'

'where did he go?'

'he is no longer among us,' verner explained angrily.

'oh, you mean he's dead,' said grandmother. she started thinking about all the euphemisms for death, all the anxious taboos that had always fascinated her. it was too bad you could never have an intelligent discussion on the subject. people were either too young or too old, or else they didn't have time.

now he was talking about someone else who was gone, and about the clerk at the store, who was so unfriendly. they were building such ugly houses everywhere, and people went ashore on other people's land without so much as a by-your-leave, but of course there had to be progress.

'oh, stuff and nonsense,' grandmother said. she stopped and turned to face him. 'just because more and more people do the same dumb things, that's nothing to make such a fuss about. progress is another thing entirely, you know that. changes. big changes.'

'my dear,' said verner quickly, 'i know what you're going to say. forgive me for interrupting, but you're about to ask me if i never read the papers.'

'not at all!' grandmother exclaimed, very much hurt. 'all i'm asking you is, don't you ever get curious? or upset? or simply terrified?'

'no, i really don't,' verner replied frankly. 'though i guess i've had my share of upset.' his eyes were troubled. 'you're so hard to please. why do you use such harsh words? i was only telling you the news.'

they walked by the potato patch and came down to the meadow by the shore. 'that's a real poplar,' said grandmother, to change the subject. 'it's taking root, look there. a friend of ours brought some genuine swan droppings from lapland, and it liked them.'

'taking root,' verner repeated. he was silent for a moment and then went on. 'it must be a great comfort to you to live with your granddaughter.'

'stop that,' grandmother said. 'stop talking in symbols, it's old-fashioned. i talk about taking root and right away you're into my grandchildren. why do you use so many euphemisms and metaphors? are you afraid?'

'my dear old friend,' said verner, greatly distressed.

'i'm sorry,' grandmother said. 'it's really a kind of politeness; i'm trying to show you i take you very seriously.'

'it is clearly an effort,' said verner gently. 'you should be a little more careful with your compliments.'

'you're right,' grandmother said.

they walked on toward the point in peaceful silence. finally, verner said, 'years ago you never talked about horsepower and fertilizer.'

'i didn't realize they were interesting. common-place things can be fascinating.'

'but yourself, personal things -- you don't talk about that,' verner observed.

'maybe not about the things that matter most,' grandmother said. she stopped to think. 'in any case, less than i used to. i suppose i've already said most of it by this time. and i realized that it wasn't worth it. or that i didn't have the right to say it.'