Writing and food - food and writing

As well as in recipes, there's a connection between writing and food that runs deep. Way deep. Food descriptions work within music contexts, and many work with writing.

Here are some words and phrases, and where they could be applied.

Cheesy. Cliché-ridden and festooned with well-worn tropes. Although cheese is great (and good for you, so I'm told, in moderation), the term is cheekily pejorative. But one can't help it sometimes - got to have it. Devour it! Like it's the most comforting thing in a cruel world. For me, cheesy novels would be mostly children's books. Heidi (Joanna Spyri) comes to mind and the Paddington books (Michael Bond).

Similarly we have sickly sweet and syrupy for over-sentimental writing. This certainly applies to poems of a particular rumpty-tumpty-tum form. They rhyme, they try to be funny and they yank unashamedly at our heart strings whilst simultaneously giving us type two diabetes. Tennyson started all this. I'm finishing it.

Dry writing. Arid. Often abstract and technical. Long descriptive passages abound and to to purpose. Occasionally the writer will add a witticism amid the stultifying desert bereft of an idea or point. You'll see the crap gag coming a mile off by its surrounding of exclamation marks. An example of dry writing is --- and some of you aren't going to like this --- the work of Tolkein. The Hobbit was way okay, but everything else was a bore. Exclamation marks don't exist, alas, in Middle Earth. Or jokes. Or human interest.

However, juicy writing slips down quite nicely, thank you very much. Great characters swimming in a torrent of well constructed narrative flow supported by interesting, clear and varied prose. The only trouble is, if you read in a public place and lose your concentration, you might spill the contents over your skirt or trousers. Then you'll get funny looks. A good example of juicy writing would be Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn.

Tasty. This is literature conforming to you, the reader's innermost desires. Very much like juicy, but you can't admit the reasoning behind it. There might be a character you find totally alluring and wouldn't want to admit to liking over your current spouse, lover or partner. Grounds for divorce? Mr Darcey from Pride and Prejudice. I'll admit it, along with nearly everyone who's encountered him, that Jack Reacher is a tasty character. Oh, okay then, Neagley.

Fragrant. This is another of those snarky descriptors. Writing that is out of its sell-by-date. With the culture wars, there are a lot of old books which are becoming fragrant. I once decided to read one of the original Doctor Dolittle books. A central premise was for an ancillary character to be helped to change colour so a princess could love him. Even in the early nineties, I found this book, well, fragrant. Out of step. Whiffy in the extreme.

Meaty. Usually has to be carried in a backpack or strong plastic bag and will nourish you but also require dedication to read. This may be a good way to describe Tolstoy's War and Peace, or Les Misérables (Victor Hugo). You can be sure that if you can read these heavyweights, you can read most anything. I've yet to do so.