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Tuesday, 9 December 2008
Pseudsday Tuesday
 Anthony Burgess knew his onions. From Inside Mr. Enderby, with thanks to former NER writer John Derbyshire: His breath smelt startlingly of (startling because few hosts serve, owing to the known redolence of onions, onions) onions. Derbyshire gushes – and I don’t think he is being tongue-in-cheek: Has anyone ever improved on that? Gone for the quadruple, I mean, without violating the rules of grammar? Yes, I know about those made-up sentences like: "Peter, while Tom had had 'had,' had had 'had had'; 'had had' had won the English teacher's approval." I'm thinking of something more Burgessian, something in the onions line, without quotes. You’ve been had had had. Burgess, with his unwieldy sentence and his string of onions, is not clever, but merely clever-clever. In fact, I would go as far as to say: Burgess is, when he thinks he is clever, clever-clever. Clever-clever is not the same as clever, and there is no merit in meretricious. There you go, Mr Burgess – that’s five clevers to your three onions. You want more onions? Sorry, that’s shallot. Posted on 12/09/2008 7:34 AM by Mary Jackson
Comments
25 Nov 2011
 Bob White
In Westport, Connecticut works a physician named Doctor. He is Dr. Doctor. His wife is a doctor. Together they are the Doctors Doctor. The physicians who treat them when they are ill are the Doctors Doctor's doctors. Not exactly "onions, onions, onions", but factual. Conan Doyle chose Watson to be a doctor. It convinces because we know some doctors to be clear and precise. James Michener described his success as being able to get people to read to the end of the page. Not a fan myself, but his popularity and the heft of his tomes suggests that he had found the knack. Are clarity and precision essential in getting people to read to the end of the page? Usually, I would say, even when seeming to write about nothing. The writing may be desultory, or have no main topic whatsoever, may have no point or direction, yet capture and hold the reader's attention. Still, on that random walk, one expects clear and precise narration. Exceptions abound. "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" comes to mind. Wonderful, but in part because of what is left unreported and unclear. "A pair of ragged claws" is imprecise, but effective. |