#2 Milquetoast

I discovered the word ‘milquetoast’ this week- an eponym for the timid and unassertive attributed to a 1920s cartoon character whose name derives from toast softened in milk. One of the self-doubting questions that niggles at me when I finish a piece is whether I’ve struck the balance between that comfortable place of making in a state of identity-affirming flow, and having the confidence to push my thoughts and imagery further to be a braver version of my creative self.  I feel a pressure to make my work more than it is, to make it somehow more relevant in a world where relevance is an amorphous and rapidly moving target, to be less milquetoast and more ‘extra’ amongst people fighting for attention in increasingly pervasive clickbait cultures.

Sensationalised headlines and exaggerated content don’t just pique curiosity, they increasingly exploit people’s vulnerabilities and unmet desires. They unlock the door to unsafe spaces and mislead vulnerable minds.

Scottish writer and spoken word artist Chris McQueer’s novel ‘Hermit’ explores the rise of misogyny and incel culture in disconnected young men. His short story collection ‘Hings’ presented simultaneously familiar and surreal worlds of overaged neds, garden sheds commandeered as nightclubs and outsider art (the joyful placement of Deek and his chicken nuggets in the gallery an earlier food reference to enjoy). I miss the humour of Hings in the dark hole of Hermit, but there is commonality across these storyscapes as marginalised characters navigate class and masculinity, divide and disconnection, and ultimately remind us that the flawed and the lonely can still be loved. This is captured beautifully in a scene where Jamie (a reluctant and now scarred young incel recruit), returns home to his maw who makes him tea and toast. I found so much comfort in this moment in the book (maybe for me as a reader as well the protagonist) that I can’t shake a profound and intense new appreciation for tea and toast in my life.

The everyday imagery of tea and toast in British homes makes it ripe for elevation to the ‘extra’, and imagery of fantastical and lavish tea parties are woven through so much of the literature I loved as a child- beware, often the more abundant the feast the further the greedy fall. From Lewis Carrol’s iconic tea party, where the deliciously lyrical word-trip of the Hatter is served in abundance. To one of the most treasured moments of my reading childhood when CS Lewis lures both the reader and Lucy through the wardrobe with an invitation to take sweet tea and toast with sardines, butter and honey in the warmth of Mr Tumnus’ home- unaware of the faun with a flute’s pledge to turn any daughter of Eve over to the White Witch.

For me, the closest parallel in feeling to that scene in Hermit is found in the painting ‘Tea and Toast’ by painter William Somerville Shanks held in the Hunterian. From Gourock to Stirling via the Paris Salon, he was working at Glasgow School of Art during pre and post war times of austerity. At times of great appreciation for simple and humble offerings, there is generosity in the way paint is spread on the canvas, and it gives me that similar feeling of humble magnificence in hospitable offerings of warmth.  

Tea and toast endures in these cultural images and offerings because it holds its place at everyone’s table. As artists, makers and writers we look to give physical form to crumbs of ideas and feelings and when people look for comfort in troubled times there is nothing better (and always best served by your maw).

I leave you with one last literary reference to Tea and Toast, wise words of warning from the great humanitarian and neurologist Oliver Sacks about the dangers of vitamin B12 deficiency. He shares a case history in ‘Everything in its Place’ about a patient whose misdiagnosed symptoms of early onset dementia were a result of living solely on a diet of tea and toast. Us artists, makers and creatives thrive on a richly varied and balanced diet, as we have always bravely asserted ourselves in personal and public spaces both safe and unsafe. But to do that I chose to redefine the word milquetoast, to give it its new shape as a form of comfort in divisive times.  

Reading and References:

Chris McQueer, ‘Hermit’, Wildfire, 2025 

Oliver Sacks, ‘Everything in its Place: First Loves and Last Tales, Picador, 2019

‘Tea and Toast’, oil on canvas, William Sommerville Shanks (1864-1951)