“buying vegetables they didn’t need” doesn’t make any sense. Either nobody needs vegetables or everybody does; they’re healthy but not necessary to stay alive.
On Tuesday at Esmeralda in California, I watched a lot of people just like the protagonists at the farmer’s market buying vegetables they didn’t need. (I bought a sourdough loaf which I did need, and ate it.) At the house I’m staying at, I just got buzzed by the fly from the vegetables that the house renters bought which they didn’t need. (Cherry tomatoes, if you were wondering.) It makes perfect sense to me: I’ve watched middle and upper class people buy (probably literally at this point) tons of vegetables they didn’t need and would throw out.
And I’m not even including the unnecessary vegetables bought explicitly to be decorative, like the large Halloween pumpkins/squashes rotting on the top of the gates of the houses in Sausalito when I was staying there last December.
(This is also a bizarre definition of ‘need’ which makes zero sense even aside from the obvious truth of the LLM’s observation about recreational shopping. “Either nobody needs to drink water right this second, or everybody does; it’s healthy but not necessary to stay alive.” “Either...insulin...” “Either...[almost every single thing anyone has ever needed anywhere for any reason]...”.)
Sure; the more detailed version of my critique of that specific line is something like:
“Ambiguity is a really powerful resource in extremely short fiction, such that pointless or unclear ambiguity is really bad. When I see ‘buying vegetables they didn’t need’ I’m not sure what is meant; literally speaking, vegetables (potatoes notwithstanding) are often not that calorically dense, making them a healthy extra to add to a meal. Taken that way, “they didn’t need” feels kind of redundant—you don’t need a side salad, sure, but who cares? Nobody ever does. Or “they didn’t need” can be taken as vaguely judgmental, like, vegetables that’ll probably rot uneaten. But that’s weird, since the rest of the piece is non-judgmental and in fact takes an over-the-shoulder-camera style perspective aligned with the protagonist’s. So a single line tut-tutting their vegetable purchase feels weird. All of this being a sort of vague gesture at why I see that phrase and my nose wrinkles up, and I’m taken out of the story.”
I’m not sure I understand your last parenthetical; everybody definitely needs water to stay alive, and doesn’t need veggies; veggies specifically are a pretty easy food group to forgo (maybe not literally, but you can certainly avoid eating the things people generally are thinking of when they say “eat your vegetables” and just be… slightly less healthy). I suppose my point wasn’t clear, there.
I recently visited a farmers market with my partner. I immediately understood that sentence, and I smiled and found it touching. They weren’t at the farmers market to go grocery shopping. They were there to relax and spend time together, in a way that also supports the local community. (It’s not even about wasteful consumerism—they weren’t at a shopping mall.)
“Buying vegetables they didn’t need” carries the same sentiment as “Sam bought flowers because they were yellow.” That statement doesn’t even tell you whether Sam especially likes yellow, because that isn’t the point. The point is that Sam got out of her burnout rut by going to a relaxing, low-stakes environment with her partner and making somewhat arbitrary decisions, to find peace and freedom in not having to optimize every little thing, and not having to justify every whim.
It clearly didn’t land with every audience, but it hit me exactly where I was.
You’re right, but the better description of the phenomenon is probably something like:
”Buying vegetables they didn’t want” “Buying vegetables they’d never eat” ”Buying vegetables they didn’t plan to use” “Aimlessly buying vegetables” ”Buying vegetables for the sake of it” ″Buying vegetables because there were vegetables to buy”
Because you don’t really “need” any grocery shop, so long as you have access to other food. It’s imprecise language that annoys some readers, though I don’t think it’s the biggest deal
On Tuesday at Esmeralda in California, I watched a lot of people just like the protagonists at the farmer’s market buying vegetables they didn’t need. (I bought a sourdough loaf which I did need, and ate it.) At the house I’m staying at, I just got buzzed by the fly from the vegetables that the house renters bought which they didn’t need. (Cherry tomatoes, if you were wondering.) It makes perfect sense to me: I’ve watched middle and upper class people buy (probably literally at this point) tons of vegetables they didn’t need and would throw out.
And I’m not even including the unnecessary vegetables bought explicitly to be decorative, like the large Halloween pumpkins/squashes rotting on the top of the gates of the houses in Sausalito when I was staying there last December.
(This is also a bizarre definition of ‘need’ which makes zero sense even aside from the obvious truth of the LLM’s observation about recreational shopping. “Either nobody needs to drink water right this second, or everybody does; it’s healthy but not necessary to stay alive.” “Either...insulin...” “Either...[almost every single thing anyone has ever needed anywhere for any reason]...”.)
Sure; the more detailed version of my critique of that specific line is something like:
“Ambiguity is a really powerful resource in extremely short fiction, such that pointless or unclear ambiguity is really bad. When I see ‘buying vegetables they didn’t need’ I’m not sure what is meant; literally speaking, vegetables (potatoes notwithstanding) are often not that calorically dense, making them a healthy extra to add to a meal. Taken that way, “they didn’t need” feels kind of redundant—you don’t need a side salad, sure, but who cares? Nobody ever does. Or “they didn’t need” can be taken as vaguely judgmental, like, vegetables that’ll probably rot uneaten. But that’s weird, since the rest of the piece is non-judgmental and in fact takes an over-the-shoulder-camera style perspective aligned with the protagonist’s. So a single line tut-tutting their vegetable purchase feels weird. All of this being a sort of vague gesture at why I see that phrase and my nose wrinkles up, and I’m taken out of the story.”
I’m not sure I understand your last parenthetical; everybody definitely needs water to stay alive, and doesn’t need veggies; veggies specifically are a pretty easy food group to forgo (maybe not literally, but you can certainly avoid eating the things people generally are thinking of when they say “eat your vegetables” and just be… slightly less healthy). I suppose my point wasn’t clear, there.
I recently visited a farmers market with my partner. I immediately understood that sentence, and I smiled and found it touching. They weren’t at the farmers market to go grocery shopping. They were there to relax and spend time together, in a way that also supports the local community. (It’s not even about wasteful consumerism—they weren’t at a shopping mall.)
“Buying vegetables they didn’t need” carries the same sentiment as “Sam bought flowers because they were yellow.” That statement doesn’t even tell you whether Sam especially likes yellow, because that isn’t the point. The point is that Sam got out of her burnout rut by going to a relaxing, low-stakes environment with her partner and making somewhat arbitrary decisions, to find peace and freedom in not having to optimize every little thing, and not having to justify every whim.
It clearly didn’t land with every audience, but it hit me exactly where I was.
You’re right, but the better description of the phenomenon is probably something like:
”Buying vegetables they didn’t want”
“Buying vegetables they’d never eat”
”Buying vegetables they didn’t plan to use”
“Aimlessly buying vegetables”
”Buying vegetables for the sake of it”
″Buying vegetables because there were vegetables to buy”
Because you don’t really “need” any grocery shop, so long as you have access to other food. It’s imprecise language that annoys some readers, though I don’t think it’s the biggest deal