“ When you’ve done your morning’s work you go to your favorite café—not with the one object in life—to cram a Châteaubriand down your dry and resisting throat because he who labors must live,—but to see your friends, to read your daily journals, to write your letters, and do it incidentally in the open air while some diplomat of a waiter serves you with food that assuages the palate, 64 without insulting your mood. That’s what I like about the little restaurant in the court there. It’s out-of-doors, and you may stay there without feeling your table is in requisition for the next man. ”
Yelp
Definition and stakes
The term "yelp" refers to a sharp, abrupt cry or sound, often suggesting urgency or distress. In literature, it has been used to illustrate both animal behavior and human experience. Authors like James Oliver Curwood portray it as a visceral reaction in nature, such as Baree’s "yelp of surprise and pain" during a wolf fight, while A. R.
Harding employs it to describe the eerie nocturnal calls of coyotes. Though other authors, such as Edna Ferber and Lieut.-Col. Newnham-Davis, explore themes of dining and social settings, their works do not directly mention "yelp" as a sound. The concept remains tied to its auditory nature, reflecting primal instincts and environmental interactions within literary contexts.
Quotes about “yelp”
Lieut.-Col. Newnham-Davis, Dinners and Diners: Where and How to Dine in London
“ I could not well dine at a club without evening clothes, and a smart restaurant was equally out of the question, for I felt, being in the state of humiliation which weariness and London grime bring one to, that I could not have held my own as to the choice of a table or the ordering of a dinner against even the least determined maître d'hôtel. ”
Edna Ferber,
Buttered Side Down: Stories
“ To her the world seemed composed of one huge, glittering restaurant, with myriads of windows through which one caught maddening glimpses of ketchup bottles, and nickel coffee heaters, and piles of doughnuts, and scurrying waiters in white, and people critically studying menu cards. She walked in a maze of restaurants, cafes, eating-houses. Tables and diners loomed up at every turn, on every street, from Michigan Avenue's rose-shaded Louis the Somethingth palaces, where every waiter owns his man, to the white tile mausoleums where every man is his own waiter. ”
