Garden parties and all-inclusives: who are we leaving out?

The Cats’ Father has become very sociable of late. His conversation is now full of stories about other conversations. This is both entertaining and educational. I could ask for little more. I really do not ask for much more.

Recently, someone put to him the profound question: “How much fete you could fete?”

His interlocutor was not asking about his personal endurance, but a bigger, more philosophical question about what we do when we are not feting.

The Cats’ Father can be as vague as the best of them, so imagine his surprise when he found himself wondering – in a very literal way – exactly how much fete was enough?

Of the literary artforms, the short story is my favourite. It may be the most difficult to create and sometimes to unpack. On February 4, 1922 (that’s 102 years ago today) the first instalment of Katherine Mansfield’s The Garden Party was published in the London-based Westminster Gazette.

The Garden Party is in my top-ten list of best short stories. They are precious. The best ones are clean, precise, a whole universe in a candle flame. Mansfield, from New Zealand, deceased by 34, managed a fair number of funny-painful-ouch-ouch-brilliant ones before she went to the big writing sofa in the sky.

On the anniversary of the publication of this beloved story I’m a bit sighy and a bit weepy and, for the umpteenth time, thinking about very fancy parties. I used to think about fancy private parties, over-the-top weddings, very indulgent birthday affairs. But now I’m firmly settled on all-inclusive fetes.

The Garden Party is a story about a party. The family has what we might refer to as “lavish grounds.” And on these grounds they will put the hired band here and the bar there. The roses have come into bloom at the right time and the lawn is perfect. It’s that kind of vibe.

Laura, the youngest daughter, does all the running around in the story. It’s a party for her mother, but everyone is terribly jaded and Laura is still so full of life. The party will be a hit.

Until some poor guy (both unfortunate and also lacking in money) from the lane just below them dies in a cart mishap.

Laura has the absurd notion that they can no longer have their party because, how can they: someone practically died on their doorstep?

Everyone tells her she is being ridiculous. And, in fact, she is easily distracted by hats and other compelling arguments.

The thing is, the people Laura is concerned about are poor. To her family, that makes them irrelevant. And the way their entitlement plays out, Laura doesn’t stand a chance of learning a different lesson, even though the story is filled with indicators that she wants to reject the social hierarchy that frames her life.

The Garden Party is the ultimate all-inclusive fete. The great all-inclusives offer all that is beautiful, sumptuous, rich, decadent and lush, and lay it out effortlessly so you don’t get the feeling anyone went to any trouble at all. That is how you carry it off. If you can see the work, then it won’t work. Unlike the story, the fetes don’t need to have a dead body down the lane for us to feel something tug just a bit.

There’s always a strong sense of noses-pressed-up-against-the-glass. Maybe it’s my nose. Maybe I’m looking at the nose. The point is, noses are definitely involved. And they’re out of joint. (Oh, I can go on forever with noses.)

I thought for a long time I’d try not to write about crime.

But how? There’s so much crime it’s not news any more.

This ramps up at Carnival. People like Laura’s family would find it easy to say this happens because people want things they can’t afford. Don’t we all? And no, we don’t all start stealing cars or lives to get the things we want.

But then, it’s about more than just things, isn’t it?

You can have all of the things – or seem to – but if something or someone makes you feel like there are things you just can’t have no matter what, your nose is still pressed against the glass. The exclusivity of some all-inclusives is like that. Carnival is full of reminders of haves and have-lesses and have-not-a-thing.

Carnival is one of the most beautiful things in my life, but an equaliser of human experience it is not.

Be careful this season, it’s a hard one. Things are hard for many people. Take care of each other.

Headspace may not always focus on a disorder or condition, but your mental health is always on our minds. In this short Carnival season, if you’re feeling alienated from your peers or environment, if you’re feeling out of your element, please ask for help.