Continuing my conversation with Sarah Lyall from over here…
Please feel free to take a peek at my PW blog to get the first part of my interview with Sarah Lyall, London correspondent for The New York Times and the author of a new book called The Anglo Files: A Field Guide to the British. Sarah and I had a fun, relaxed phone conversation last week while she was in DC for some events. She was at the Hotel Monaco and said “It’s so nice to just recline during an interview; book tours are tiring!”
Lyall’s reporter’s eye notices everything from those aforementioned Parliament pubs to the differences between her own childhood and that of her two daughters, Alice and Isobel, 11 and 9 respectively: “They’ll roll their eyes and say ‘Mum, please says ‘trousers,’ not ‘pants’!”
While the Demoiselles McCrum are definitely “English girls,” their mother remains quite American. “When I’m away from the U.S. for a time, I miss the openness. There’s a sense of possibility in America, and people are much more straightforward than they are in England. You simply can’t take what they say at face value. “Sorry” or “I’m so pleased” can take on five different layers of motivation, depending on the person you’re addressing. Whereas people here in the U.S. strive to be happy, and are not embarrassed about it.”
But: “When I’m away from England for too long, I miss irony, and I miss people who joke. ” Lyall points out the homage of her book’s cover art to “Monty Python’s Flying Circus,” the opening minutes of which were a weekly pastiche of animation, collage, and line drawing. Lyall also says that despite the American confidence in possibility, the English display a different kind of confidence: “They’re taught not to whine — to just get on with it. Remember, one of their role models is Margaret Thatcher, who essentially functioned as a man. It’s still pretty old-fashioned over there in some ways.”
Is “over there” Britain? Or England? “In the paperback I’m going to add some material that will examine English character versus British character further,” the author says. That might have something to do with her veddy English husband, McCrum. When I ask her how she dealt with including some of his personal anecdotes, she replies, “Very good question. I didn’t leave out whole topics, but I was more gentle than I otherwise might have been. He was so nice about the whole thing, totally a good sport, said everything was fair game.” (Even the point at which Lyall, during a domestic argument, hurls the insult at him “You’re emotionally autistic!” McCrum responds phlegmatically, “Yes, I am quite emotionally artistic.”)
“After all,” Lyall says, “I didn’t want to write a snarky, mean-spirited book.”
After speaking with her, I’m not sure if that statement is more American, or more British. Perhaps it’s a perfect balance of American natural kindness and British cultivated manners; a perfect cup of tea for a fall day.

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