One Perfect Thing

A small defence of affection

There is a pleasing freedom in recommending one thing without claiming it is the best thing. A book does not have to defeat every other book to deserve a place in your life. A cup does not need a design award to be the one your hand reaches for.

‘One perfect thing’ is a deliberately personal category. Perfect for what, and for whom? Perhaps a photograph holds the light of a place you miss. Perhaps a sentence says something you had been trying to say for years. Your explanation can be precise without becoming universal.

Tell the reader what to notice

Begin with a detail. The weight of an object, the turn in a melody, the space at the end of a poem. Describe what happens when you spend time with it. ‘It is beautiful’ reports a conclusion; a concrete observation lets somebody approach the conclusion themselves.

Then provide the work’s identity accurately. A title, a creator and an official source are often enough. Keep any quotation brief and purposeful. Do not reproduce a whole poem or song merely because it is important to you.

Separate memory from criticism. A novel read during a difficult year may matter partly because of that year. Saying so does not weaken the recommendation. It gives the reader a truthful account of the relationship.

Keep the door open

A good piece of affectionate criticism does not require agreement. It offers another person an experience they can test. They might see a different detail, dislike the work or find their own perfect thing in the conversation.

Try a short experiment: choose an object already in your room and write three paragraphs. Describe it; explain why it stayed; imagine what a stranger might miss. Avoid discussing its price unless the price is relevant to the story.

An attentive explanation can restore scale to a world of rankings and endless options. For a few minutes, there is one thing, looked at properly. Sometimes that is enough.