Large Is Beautiful

Mercedes’ new SUV is massive in size, comfort and price

Modern Love, the Amazon Prime series based on the popular weekly column in

The New York Times, felt, to me, like a lousy blind date. Apart from rare flashes (like Anne Hathaway and Andrew Scott’s performances), it swung between the saccharine and the insipid. The TV adaptation of the selfreflective essays seemed always to have a pat explanation for the complexities in the lives of its narrator-protagonists. But you need a lot more than words to bring an essay to life on screen (which is why the Hathaway episode, with all its storytelling flourishes, worked).the show does, however, spark some thoughts about “modern love”. It’s fun to follow that mental trail.

with the camera as my witness…

What can be “modern” about “love”? is a question that has no doubt launched a million chatroom discussions. If one were to talk about modern sport, for instance, we’d all know what was being spoken about. It means multi-million-dollar contracts and extreme close-ups of sweaty athletes spitting into the ground or muttering curses. Modern love, on the other hand, presents a peculiar problem. While the high point of a fairy-tale romance used to be a man proposing to or Priyanka and Nick (I can think of a quite unprintable portmanteau) who thrive on public adulation. Everyday folk, too, realise if it’s not on social media, it’s not real. But not everyone’s hopped on to the PDA boat. Complaining to my CA about the impossibility of accounting during a recent appointment, I discovered he had a far more pressing problem. “I don’t know how to write anniversary posts for my wife!” We each left the meeting pondering the inadequacies of our respective existences.