Nigell Lawson on Henry James

When I was in my teens, I loved Henry James. I read him with uncorrupted pleasure. Then, when I was eighteen or so, and had just started The Golden Bowl, someone – older, cleverer, whose opinions were offered gravely – asked me whether I didn’t find James very difficult, as she always did. Until then, I had no idea that I might, and I didn’t. From that moment, I couldn’t read him but self-consciously; from then on I did find him difficult. I do not wish to insult by the comparison , but I had a similar, Jamesian mayonnaise experience. My mother used to make mayonnaise weekly, twice weekly; we children would help. I had no idea it was meant to be difficult, or that it was thought to be a nerve-racking ordeal. Then someone asked how I managed to be so breezy about it, how I stopped it from curdling. From then on, I scarcely made a mayonnaise that didn’t split. It’s not surprising: when confidence is undermined or ruptured, it can be difficult to do the simplest things or take any enjoyment even in trying.

Nigella Lawson, How to eat

Telling someone that tango is difficult doesn’t make it any easier. Worst of all is peoples insistence on telling new leaders that “it’s more diffucult for the man”. I’m not saying that starting tango and taking on the role of leader at the same time is easy, but don’t burden the poor guy with extra baggage when his hands are already full.