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unearths some literary gems.
From Measure for Murder, by Clifford Witting:
***Nothing disorganises a concern so much--except, of course, the introduction of System--as the boss's son beginning in a junior position.***He had...scrabbled about taking measurements and jotting them down on the back of an envelope, which he afterwards lost.***Our producer was...a soft-spoken giant of a fellow, who...never got nearer to losing his temper than whistling "Good King Wenceslas" (whatever the season of the year) through clenched teeth.[Sure enough, as the story progresses and things become tense, there are a couple of allusions to the producer's GKW whistling.]***It was his normal habit to say everything twice in quick succession, but his orders to the company were given three times just as rapidly, as if with the foreknowledge that nobody would heed a thing said ony twice.***Phil Pearson's encomiums whipped up his flagging interest and transformed him into the keenest amateur that ever missed a cue.***Massive, hearty of manner, he had a deep, resonant, voice and, when amused (which was often), sounded like an amiable ogre laughing in a cave.***"Those are the opinions of Coleridge. When we remember that he wrote 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,' we can safely accept his judgment."[...]"That has nothing to do with our present discussion"...."Neither does the Ancient Mariner....Or the albatross."***[This may be my favorite passage of all. The French turn of phrase really puts it over the top, imo!]And there was--how can I put it?--a certain awareness about her. I once made the acquaintance of an old green parrot. Its conversational range was limited, yet when it tilted its head and cocked a wicked beady eye at you, you got the feeling that, if only it chose, it could tell you a thing or two; that, as the French put it, il connut le dessous des cartes. Miss Lark in no way resembled a parrot, but sometimes there was the same tilt of the head and the same cock of the eye.***We had the place to ourselves, except for a solitary man at the other end of the room, with a newspaper propped against the water-jug, who chewed his food with the stolid concentration of a ruminating cow, and held his knife and fork as if he was riding a bicycle.[Bicycles, of course, are funny--especially out-of-context bicycles.]***"Not a square peg in a round hole, but a round peg not quite big enough to stop falling right through."***Although close on sixty, she darted around the house with the nimbleness of a schoolgirl, so that she frequently gave the impression of being in two places at once. For instance, after assuring her I had everything I required, I would leave her at one end of a passage--and, on reaching the other end, would find her waiting round the corner with the remark: "Because you've only got to ask, Mr. Tudor."[By the way, Tudor's nickname is "Turtle," which makes me think of Tooter Turtle of the cartoons.]***He...went down the hill in zig-zag fashion, jamming on his brakes at the end, as it were, of each zig. Our own descent...was much less like a music-hall turn.***Many times I tried to screw my courage to the sticking-place and make love to her, but my courage seemed to have no sticking-place.***She was what young women, older women, young men and older men all describe as a "nice girl"--for four different reasons.[But he doesn't specify what the four different reasons are.]***Mrs. Cheesewright went "tck-tck" more than once, but she would have gone "tck-tck" at anything.***It is always pleasant to make complete strangers laugh at one's remarks to one's friends.***"You won't be cross," I asked, "if on some appropriate occasion in the future--when you're in the middle of a game of tennis or having your hair done--I ask you to marry me?"***Then suddenly, with an almost audible click, the tone of the conversation changed.***It is the custom among solicitors, symptomatic, perhaps, of their elusive craft, to do business under any names but their own.***It was a pity that Mrs. Doubleday was just going by, for I collided with her and spoilt what would otherwise have been a most artistic exit.[Earlier on, he walked into the same lamppost twice in one evening.]***"I think not, halthough I saw him at about twenty-past eleven."[This instance of the reverse-dropped haitches that characterize Mrs. Doubleday's conversation was interesting because the glitchy type in this copy of the book had the unintended effect of making it look like the surplus h in "halthough" was stricken through for removal.]***"As you couldn't see your 'and in front of your face, I might 'ave been right on the 'eels of the Archbishop of Canterbury and not known it."[I don't think I've mentioned it before, but the Archbishop of Canterbury appears not infrequently in the books I read in this sort of far-fetched hypothetical role. I guess he's a little bit like a personified Timbuktu.]***[Turning a Cliche on Its Head dept. The character is saying that he prefers brunettes.]"When it comes to blondes, I'm no gentleman."***"She 'ad a sharp attack of la-di-da."***"You'd never find so much as a postcard from me in Mr. Ridpath's fan-mail."[I like the implication that a lukewarm fan would send a *postcard*.]***Nonsense as Fashion Statement dept."All rigged out in a red velvet dress and a bit of nonsense fixed round 'er head."***"I think she must have discovered the secret of perpetual emotion."***"What a snorter! 'A something or other beyond the reach of art.'"***"Besides Gough, whom I've called No. 3, two other people, Nos. 1 and 2, are involved.""You know I'm no good at figures," grumbled the Super. "Couldn't you have made them A, B and C?""It would have been too complicated," Charlton explained.***"You arranged for a representative of Messrs. Golightly & Farthingale to call on Miss Jones?""You got on to that, did you?" grinned Duzest. "A pretty piece of impromptu nomenclature, don't you think?""A Frogbaskett in the middle would have lent it distinction," replied Charlon judicially.***[Then there was this, as I discussed on Facebook.]In case anyone's keeping score, the vintage mystery novel that I'm currently reading has included, as of page 41, two metaphorical and mutually unrelated references to seals (the animal, not the emblem). First we are told that a troupe of seals, given the power of speech, could have recited some theatrical dialogue as well as the humans actually reciting it. Then, twenty pages later, we're told that a newly introduced character physically resembles a seal. I must say the necessity for a "given the power of speech" proviso seems rather to defeat the purpose of the former comparison; but I'm not here to quibble, I'm here to count metaphorical seals (counting the troupe as one).
Page 74, metaphorical seal #3: "It was a technically faultless performance, but with the perfection of a circus dog jumping through a hoop or a seal balancing a ball on its nose."
BUT WAIT! As the jokelore engineer said, "Our initial count was off." A mystery-fiction expert has drawn my attention to the earliest (documented) seal reference in this book—back in the prologue, before I began noticing or keeping track. In this passage, a different character apparently resembles "‘a breathless seal" when climbing stairs. So our REVISED METAPHORICAL-SEAL COUNT now stands at 4.
No seal references since page 74, and now, in the second half of the book, we have a different narrator. Perhaps the seal obsession was the NARRATOR's tic, rather than the author's! This would tie in with what the mystery expert told me, to wit, that she did not notice metaphorical seals in the other books she's read from this series (though she wasn't looking out for them, as far as I know).
However, if it's any consolation, I've just encountered a passage in which a character compares someone else to an "obstinate jellyfish." He is speaking to the detective, and we're informed by narrator #2 that "the simile appealed to [the detective]."
I've now finished the book, and the metaphorical-seal count stands at 4, unchanged since page 74. Thank you for joining me on this adventure! Facebook doesn't seem to offer a seal emoji, so I'll use a dophin and a dog, since a seal is sort of the "average" of those two animals.
***
[Bonuses: A character says "shenanachida" for "shenanigans"; this variant has no trace in Google. The same character uses "belladonna" to mean "prima donna."]
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