The Phenomenology of the Pickle

"Once a pickle, no more a cucumber." so they say. But what's wrong with pickles? They are one of the most adaptable of condiments, delicious on hamburgers or with tuna salad. "Pickled" may describe someone who's had one too many, but neither pickled cabbage or beets hurl or pass out. No pickled vegetable ever forgot what they said. "My downfall came when I started to steal from other people's plates," begins Lost Weekend, a memoir about a food addict. The nice thing, from a phenomenological point of view, is that no food has agency. So that the journey is something no cucumber has control over, anyway, since neither pickles nor cucumbers possess volition. Farther and Wilder was the memoir Charles Jackson was writing at the time of his death in l968, but the earlier book, the original Lost Weekend, is what put Jackson the map. Consult the laws of metaphysics for a moment. Imagine a 12-step program for pickles. "I'm Howard," says Howie, who is one. Yes, he has learned to be grateful to want what he has, which is the dish he is sitting in, on the table in front of the argumentative couple, and though he's a mere pickle Howie can still imbibe a Maurice Merleau-Ponty, '45.