Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner...

Bring me the Bill...

(William Shakespeare)

“If you have any young friends who aspire to become writers, the second greatest favor you can do them is to present them with copies of ‘The Elements of Style.’ The first greatest, of course, is to shoot them now, while they’re happy.”

— Dorothy Parker

You can’t visit Facebook these days without finding some silly quiz. You are expected to pass along your personal information to complete strangers, who will then use it to mine for your data, guess your passwords, steal all your contacts and leave you penniless in the gutter.

Yes, I do remember the name of my first pet, but no, I’m not giving it to you, because I’m not dimwitted.

Some of the quizzes ask about our life experiences – seeking to learn where we’ve been, what we’ve done, who we’ve known.

Yes, I’ve gone kayaking, eaten eels, fired a fully automatic weapon and flown in a helicopter. No, I’ve never given birth, been to Las Vegas or sung Karaoke. That isn’t going to change, no matter how many times you ask, so shut up.

A couple of years ago I was successfully sucked in by a quiz called, “Who haven’t I met?” A fellow journalist listed 10 famous people and explained that he had met nine of them. The object of the game was for us to guess which one he had not really met.

If you decided to play, then you were supposed to produce your own list, to keep the game going, and so I did just that. I personally offered up:

Jimmy Carter
Cher
Ruth Bader Ginsburg
Michael J. Fox
James Beard
Dolly Parton
Dave Barry
Susan Brownmiller
David Letterman
Lyndon Johnson

Feel free to guess which one of these I didn’t meet. I promise to confirm the answer in the comments section below, if anyone gets it right.

But today’s story is about my favorite quiz ever. I agonized over it, changed my answers shamelessly, and second-guessed my response for days. My wife played it, too, and her answer was brilliant. More on that in just a minute.

The game was designed for people who love English Literature. The set-up was this: You can have a small dinner party, in your home, for any three authors, living or dead. You supply the food and drink, and the three writers will show up and bring the brilliance with them.

Think of the event you could put together! Imagine taking selfies with you, Jane Austen, Geoffrey Chaucer and William Butler Yeats!

By now, you’ve probably guessed the big catch. If you love the language we all share, there is no getting around inviting William Shakespeare. He’s number one. That means he’s the star of the evening, and you really only have two slots to fill, with people who aren’t Shakespeare.

I think I need to invite Arthur Conan Doyle, because I’ve always loved Sherlock Holmes. Maybe also Dashiell Hammett? No, that would be two mystery writers. Flannery O’Connor? She ticks three boxes: American, female and she’s really, really, deep.

Damn. I want Graham Greene, but I can’t have him and Flannery together, because of their heavy use of religious themes. A little of that goes a long way.

William Faulkner is a possible choice, but only if we can limit the conversation to “A Rose for Emily,” and he’s not going to agree to that.

I guess I should invite James Joyce, but then I’d have to read one of his books. Ditto for Henry James. That’s a deal-breaker, I’m afraid.

Hold the phone! I just remembered Scott Fitzgerald. And John Steinbeck. And George Bernard Shaw. This is getting way too tough!

I know, I’ll have a theme dinner, for authors who are so iconic their names have been turned into adjectives. Welcome to my Dickensian, Orwellian, Kafkaesque dinner party!

I asked Barbara to play this game, and incredibly, she gave me an invite list without Shakespeare on it. How dare she? Blasphemer! Sorceress! I demanded to know her rationale, and she explained it.

“You are aware, Bob, that some people don’t think Shakespeare wrote the stuff that is attributed to him?”

Of course I was aware. Folks claim the actual writer was really the Earl of Oxford or Francis Bacon or Christopher Marlowe or the Countess of Pembrooke. I don’t buy into those theories.

“But what if it’s true?” she persisted. “What if you invite Shakespeare to your dinner, and he’s a loutish boor, and the first thing he tells you is that he didn’t write any of that stuff? So you’ve got this smirking wanker in your dining room, quaffing your ale and belching all evening, finally barfing in the fireplace and ruining your party.”

My first reaction to that was, “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

But then I realized what Barbara had done. By her simple twist of logic, suddenly I was freed from the burden of having Shakespeare as an invitee!

(Mark Twain, Dorothy Parker, Kurt Vonnegut)

That, in. turn, let me focus on writers I thought would be a lot of fun to be around. Witty, charming and engaging! An evening I would never forget.

Alex, I’ll take Really Fun Authors, for $1,000!

And, Just Two Weeks Later:

“Hey, Barbara, our guests are starting to arrive. This is so exciting! Put those frozen hors oeuvres in the oven, and I’ll get the door.

“Why, look, it’s Mark Twain! Do you prefer Mark, or Samuel? What a pleasure it is to meet you! Please, wipe your feet and come on in!

“Ah, and here’s our second guest, Dorothy Parker. A plucky, spunky, witty woman, as fun as all get-out!”

“And here comes guest number three, right on time! Look, he brought flowers!

“Good evening, sir. I imagine this neighborhood looks pretty familiar to you. You grew up just about a mile away, right?  We’re so glad you could make it. May I get you a drink? Would you care for some guacamole?

“Oh, and do you mind if I call you Kurt?”