Nonsense Literature

[mike]

Lewis Carroll, who wrote Alice in Wonderland, also wrote a poem about a Bmish Boy ...

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/ ... abberwocky

Too many vopal blades going snickersnack for the bmish boy to be nonresistant.

Vorpal blade, VORPAL. How can you expect to be taken seriously if you can’t spell correctly?

These raised an old annoyance for me. I just can't stand nonsense literature. If you want to torture me, read me some E. E. Cummings.

And there's a difference between good literature that contains nonsense elements and nonsense literature. To quote Wikipedia:

Gibberish, light verse, fantasy, and jokes and riddles are sometimes mistaken for literary nonsense, and the confusion is greater because nonsense can sometimes inhabit these (and many other) forms and genres.

Pure gibberish, as in the "hey diddle diddle" of nursery rhyme, is a device of nonsense, but it does not make a text, overall, literary nonsense. If there is not significant sense to balance out such devices, then the text dissolves into literal (as opposed to literary) nonsense.

[Szdfan]

Why do you hate fun, Mike?

[mike]

Why do you hate fun, Mike?

fun not it is

- e e cummings (probably)

[Szdfan]

Why do you hate fun, Mike?

fun not it is

- e e cummings (probably)

I’m joking. What you are referring to are called “nonce” words —

Nonce words are newly coined or invented words used for a specific occasion or purpose, often in literature or playful language, to explore the boundaries of language and convey unique meanings.

It’s not something I want to read all the time, but there’s a joy and pleasure in the way words sound, including made-up words.

[mike]

Why do you hate fun, Mike?

fun not it is

- e e cummings (probably)

I’m joking. What you are referring to are called “nonce” words —

Nonce words are newly coined or invented words used for a specific occasion or purpose, often in literature or playful language, to explore the boundaries of language and convey unique meanings.

It’s not something I want to read all the time, but there’s a joy and pleasure in the way words sound, including made-up words.

Just out of curiosity, why does such literature use English or English-like words and characters, instead of making up its own characters? Like, why doesn't it just use made-up hieroglyphs? To be truly nonsense, it would actually need to be nonsensical, wouldn't it?

Which I suppose tells us that "nonsense" literature has to have just enough "sense" to it to be readable?

[Szdfan]

fun not it is

- e e cummings (probably)

I’m joking. What you are referring to are called “nonce” words —

Nonce words are newly coined or invented words used for a specific occasion or purpose, often in literature or playful language, to explore the boundaries of language and convey unique meanings.

It’s not something I want to read all the time, but there’s a joy and pleasure in the way words sound, including made-up words.

Just out of curiosity, why does such literature use English or English-like words and characters, instead of making up its own characters? Like, why doesn't it just use made-up hieroglyphs? To be truly nonsense, it would actually need to be nonsensical, wouldn't it?

Which I suppose tells us that "nonsense" literature has to have just enough "sense" to it to be readable?

JRR Tolkien made up his own language and runic alphabet.

I mean…it’s still for English readers. You’re right that it has to make enough sense to be readable. Jabberwocky still has lots of recognizable words. Part of the pleasure is coming across something unexpected that could sound like a real word, but isn’t.

Technically, all words are made-up.

[joshuabgood]

I am with Mike. It holds literally no appeal for me. Never did...

[Wesleyb]

It was midnight on the ocean, not a streetcar was in sight.
While the sun was shining brightly, for it had rained all the night.
‘Twas a summer’s day in winter, and the rain was snowing fast,
As the barefoot boy with shoes on stood there sitting in the grass.

It was evening and the sunrise was setting in the west,
And the fishies in the tree-tops were all cuddled in their nests.
As the wind was blowing bubbles, lightning shot from left to right.
Everything that you should see had been hidden out of sight.

While the organ peeled potatoes, lard was rendered by the choir.
When the sexton rang the dish rag, someone set the church on fire.
“Holy smoke!” the preacher shouted, as he madly tore his hair,
Now his head resembles heaven, for there is no parting there.

[mike]

It was midnight on the ocean, not a streetcar was in sight.
While the sun was shining brightly, for it had rained all the night.
‘Twas a summer’s day in winter, and the rain was snowing fast,
As the barefoot boy with shoes on stood there sitting in the grass.

It was evening and the sunrise was setting in the west,
And the fishies in the tree-tops were all cuddled in their nests.
As the wind was blowing bubbles, lightning shot from left to right.
Everything that you should see had been hidden out of sight.

While the organ peeled potatoes, lard was rendered by the choir.
When the sexton rang the dish rag, someone set the church on fire.
“Holy smoke!” the preacher shouted, as he madly tore his hair,
Now his head resembles heaven, for there is no parting there.

This poem doesn't belong in this thread - it makes too much sense.

[Szdfan]

It was midnight on the ocean, not a streetcar was in sight.
While the sun was shining brightly, for it had rained all the night.
‘Twas a summer’s day in winter, and the rain was snowing fast,
As the barefoot boy with shoes on stood there sitting in the grass.

It was evening and the sunrise was setting in the west,
And the fishies in the tree-tops were all cuddled in their nests.
As the wind was blowing bubbles, lightning shot from left to right.
Everything that you should see had been hidden out of sight.

While the organ peeled potatoes, lard was rendered by the choir.
When the sexton rang the dish rag, someone set the church on fire.
“Holy smoke!” the preacher shouted, as he madly tore his hair,
Now his head resembles heaven, for there is no parting there.

This poem doesn't belong in this thread - it makes too much sense.

You're being such a Grumpalungus!