"I understand that absinthe makes the tart grow fonder"
About this Quote
Dowson takes a sentimental cliche and spikes it with a decadent grin. “Absinthe makes the tart grow fonder” is a deliberate pun on “absence makes the heart grow fonder,” swapping emotional distance for chemical blur and “heart” for “tart” - a word that winks at both sweetness and sex work. The joke lands because it’s not just wordplay; it’s a worldview compressed into a single line: affection as intoxication, romance as something purchased, staged, or anesthetized.
The intent is slyly corrosive. Dowson, a key figure of the 1890s Decadent scene, is writing from a culture fascinated by artifice, vice, and self-conscious ruin. Absinthe wasn’t merely a drink; it was a symbol of bohemian glamour and moral panic, blamed for hallucination, dissipation, and the kind of foggy bravado that passes for intimacy at 2 a.m. By making absinthe the agent of “fondness,” the line suggests desire isn’t deepened by absence but manufactured by impairment. The “tart” grows fonder because the drink lubricates consent, lowers standards, or softens loneliness into something that feels like love.
There’s also a sting of self-implication. Dowson’s work often circles longing, obsession, and the ache of unattainable purity; here, he punctures that ache with cynicism. If the heart is unreliable, at least the bottle is consistent. The subtext is bleakly modern: in a nightlife economy, chemistry beats destiny, and devotion is just another effect you can order by the glass.
The intent is slyly corrosive. Dowson, a key figure of the 1890s Decadent scene, is writing from a culture fascinated by artifice, vice, and self-conscious ruin. Absinthe wasn’t merely a drink; it was a symbol of bohemian glamour and moral panic, blamed for hallucination, dissipation, and the kind of foggy bravado that passes for intimacy at 2 a.m. By making absinthe the agent of “fondness,” the line suggests desire isn’t deepened by absence but manufactured by impairment. The “tart” grows fonder because the drink lubricates consent, lowers standards, or softens loneliness into something that feels like love.
There’s also a sting of self-implication. Dowson’s work often circles longing, obsession, and the ache of unattainable purity; here, he punctures that ache with cynicism. If the heart is unreliable, at least the bottle is consistent. The subtext is bleakly modern: in a nightlife economy, chemistry beats destiny, and devotion is just another effect you can order by the glass.
Quote Details
| Topic | Puns & Wordplay |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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