The American Experience

We all like to hear what others think of us, provided it's not given with malice. We Brits, for example, love Bill Bryson above all other travel writers because he writes of us with gentle humor and appreciation for his subject. He is an American who lived in Britain for many years and so knows us well. Bill understands just how far he can go in pointing out our weaknesses and allowing us to laugh with recognition at them.

Much can be forgiven one who understands a nation in the way Bill does. But let someone criticize without consideration for our feelings and we will bristle with anger and defend ourselves whether right or wrong. The same is probably true of all nationalities.

My previous article, the 51st State, on the eminent sense in there being a union between England and America, provoked a considerable amount of comment, some of it quite heated. Reflecting on this, I realize that there is much misunderstanding that goes on between our two peoples. Certain misconceptions enter the folklore of a nation and become almost written in stone.

My own view of the Americans has undergone considerable evolution over the years. Long ago, while I was young and lived in Africa, I thought of them as a loud and brash folk who wore bright Hawaiian shirts and shorts, festooned themselves with cameras and made great wallowing mechanical monsters that they called "automobiles". This concept came not from experience of any Americans, but purely from listening to the opinions of those around me. It did not occur to me that I was in the company of people who had never met an American either and so I happily accepted the common stereotype.

Later, when I was in my hippy phase, I did meet some Americans. The first were Peace Corps workers and they were just the same as my friends and myself; "freaks" we called ourselves. And I was forced to amend the stereotype: the older generation continued to be the cartoon picture of a brash tourist while the younger ones became our compatriots, hairy and idealistic.

Then I met and came to know a family of American missionaries. "Squeaky clean" is the only way I can describe them but they really messed with my preconceived notions. They presented an impossibly pure and ideal face to the world. Two things about them made a great impact upon my view of Americans; their house and their food. They lived in a huge mansion that was white in decor and white in furnishings. Everything was clean and white and decorated, the overall effect being something akin to a wedding cake. Naturally, I assumed that this was the norm for all Americans.

But it was the food that really shocked me. No American reading this can understand the horror I felt when I discovered that they would happily put a grilled steak and salad on the same plate with a great dollop of jam (which they called jelly, just to confuse the issue). My regular readers will know that this is an obstacle to my assimilation as an American that I still find impossible to surmount.

This threw my whole concept of "Americans" into confusion for many years. They became to me a distantly related tribe who had somehow picked up strange habits like mixing sweet food with savory, perhaps having learned this from the Native Americans. Much later, in England, the sentiment was reinforced by an aristocratic lady we knew when she pronounced haughtily, "Americans? Pah, nursery eating habits."

It was internet chat that forced me to reconsider all of my previous notions regarding Americans. Here at last I was put in a situation where I was the foreigner, the lone Brit amongst a horde of Statesiders. And I found that I liked them. In the early days, I stood on a few toes accidentally and learned to be careful with my sometimes biting Brit humor. This was made easier for me as I recalled my own consternation when first confronted with how vicious British humor can be; I simply returned to my gentler colonial ways when dealing with Americans.

It was their honesty and optimism that attracted me to them. All my life I had been surrounded by people who would go to great lengths to avoid calling a spade a spade, but here was a nation who saw nothing wrong in going straight to the point. They seemed so open and willing to learn about the world around them, almost innocent in their enjoyment of life. I began to seek the company of Americans rather than that of my countrymen, avoiding the "Brit rooms" in chat.

Events were to sweep me up and deposit me, ultimately, in a little town in Oklahoma. And I find that those impressions gained in the chat rooms were accurate; Americans are open, honest, hospitable and without artifice. They are also passionate in their politics and quite prepared to insult those who do not agree with them in this area. They will throw the finest details of Constitutional Amendments at each other in an attempt to win an argument. No Brit knows his history that well.

To some extent, I find myself in the middle when debates flare up between American and British friends. I know that when a Brit gathers all his stereotypes on America together and hurls them across the Atlantic, he is, in part at least, making fun of his own deliberate misunderstanding. But, to the American, such behavior is crass and insulting and they are very ready to answer in kind. I know, too, that Americans have developed sarcasm to a form that is not understood by the Brits and that this often leads to an exchange of harsh words. It is all so easily avoided, however, if we remind ourselves that the two cultures have grown in different ways and that neither is better than the other. Both have strengths and both have weaknesses. We do not compete against but actually complement each other, there being much more that we have in common than ways in which we differ.

To me, differences in culture are things to be celebrated, not fought over. If I may return to Bill Bryson, I recommend his books as they are perfect demonstrations of how we can enjoy cultural differences rather than let them annoy us. He has written of his own people, too, and also sallied forth into the world of Down Under. A wise man with a clear eye and unfailing humor...