The soup was tasty,
but it was rich.
I stop myself mid-text. Have I chosen the right words? I take another look: soup, tasty, and rich are all correct. What I’m doubting is that but.
But often suggests an unfortunate trade-off between a good thing–tasty–and a less-good thing–rich. It’s what the book parody of The Lord of the Rings played on for humorous effect, lo, these many years ago now.
Hobbits are a short but nasty folk.
Well, it’s what they intended for humorous effect. Your results may vary. But the reason it might be funny is that it violates our usually unspoken and mostly unconscious assumptions for this construction: short but long-lived; short but smart; short but beautiful. In this case, both sides of the but are undesirable. There is no benefit that offsets the cost.
I look again at my text.
The soup was tasty,
but it was rich.
Is this really what I think? Would the Hungarian Mushroom Soup have been as tasty if I had over-ridden the recipe and gone with partially skimmed milk instead of whole-fat? If I had substituted low-fat sour cream for regular, or left it out altogether?
I think not. In some mysterious way, the fat was integral to the flavour. Of course the mix of spices mattered but the fat mattered too and, I suspect, indispensably. Maybe I should edit my text.
The soup was tasty,
because it was rich.
But gives me a problem to be solved, if I can; because gives me a reality to accept, if I will. Before I launch on improving societal dysfunctions or my own failings or even the next soup recipe, maybe I should ask whether I’m facing a but or a because.
