Good Gossip

A fellow bibliophile and I were discussing books we plan to read this year. He mentioned a title and said, “You’ll love it. The author rattles skeletons in the closets of some well-known folks in your hometown.”

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“You mean it’s got some juicy gossip in it?” I asked. He assured me that it was sloshing with it.  Gossip attracts even the most virtuous souls with shameful regularity. And, for those of us not in the most virtuous souls category, its appeal can reach intoxicating proportions. And, just like liquid intoxicants, gossip generates a hangover of sorts. I hate myself after I've gulped down what might have been a tidbit of harmless hearsay and helped garnish into execrable exaggeration and ruinous rumor, thereby confirming what English poet Alexander Pope once said: “And all who told it added something new, and all who heard it made enlargements too.” Bad gossip and good storytelling share a characteristic that makes the former more injurious and the latter more interesting. Malicious gossip enthralls listeners, as expert storytelling enthralls readers — for the same reason: They want to know more. Once, while discussing story line with composition students, I pointed out this similarity. On one side of the classroom, I started with a student named Candace, a respectful, intelligent young woman with a charming personality and a wide, beautiful smile. “Let’s say the student sitting next to Candace hates her, and invents a piece of prevarication that, on its own, would severely damage her reputation. The fabricating student relays the falsity to someone next to her, and what began as a mere ripple evolves into a totally untruthful tsunami. “Along the way, one hears such expressions as, ‘You aren’t going to believe what I heard about Candace,’ followed by something like, ‘Lay it on me. I always suspected she was low-life trailer trash.’ We all know what happens as the venomous verbiage progresses through several interlocutory iterations.” Pointing to the other side of the classroom, I continued, “By the time gossipmongers spread the lie community-wide, those too gullible to question its veracity are convinced that Candace shouldn’t be allowed to continue roaming the streets and tainting society.” If only such exponentially communicative embellishment worked the other way! But people don’t gossip about other people’s virtues. A few days after the classroom discussion, as I was walking into a store, someone spoke to me. “Hello, Mr. Reed.” Guess who? Candace. In a Salvation Army apron, she was jingling a bell, soliciting donations for the needy. “Good gracious, young lady, it’s freezing out here!” I said. “I hope someone takes your place soon.” It was then two in the afternoon; she’d been standing there since eight that morning. “Yes, sir — my shift ends at four,” she said. I hugged her, dropped money in her bucket and walked away, certain that none of Candace’s classmates knew she volunteered for such noble work. If they did, they wouldn’t tell others. We all know why: There’s no such thing as good gossip.