On Humor in Literature

          I appreciate a well-written book or a well-crafted poem, but what really raises one in my estimation is cleverness and humor.  This preference hadn't struck me as very significant before because those elements are often woven so naturally into the story.  Yet, when I mentally list my favorite stories and poems, the ones on the list inevitably make me laugh more than others I may acknowledge as better-written.  Poetry especially benefits from wit and humor, it tending by nature toward drier reading; even beauty is all the more real and beautiful with the injection of a good chuckle.
           As I suspect is the case with most people, not all humor strikes me as funny.  For instance, I've never much cared for low-brow humor, the kind that mocks others' pain or makes light of bodily functions or faith.  I do enjoy puns and other word plays, but only certain types and in small doses.  Rather, my favorite type of humor is the delightfully unexpected twist, the dry sarcasm, the witty comeback, or the matter-of-fact treatment of the absurd that allows for that "sudden perception of incongruity" (as C.S. Lewis describes the "Joke Proper").  
           I feel this calls for examples, but rather than dredge up a list of my favorite humorous works (which could grow very long, indeed, if I let it), I have decided to offer a sampling of my own poems of a similar type.  I hope you will enjoy them.


Vicarious Emotion

What a horrible day!

Aliens have invaded!

Millions have died!

And worst of all,

I’ve run out of chocolate!

Pass the popcorn, will you?

Boredom

Once on an evening most dull,

in the midst of a mess of his toys,

he threw such a fuss

that his wife listed chores,

and promptly his boredom was cured.

Hysteria

Oh, how she cries, how she wails!

How she shakes and grows pale!

“Sit down, sit down.  

Take a breath and explain.”

No good--she must pace,

and her hyperventilating breath

and scatterbrained thoughts

break her words into pieces

that you laboriously string together.

She’s distraught, you learn,

because everyone hates her

(though you're proof to the contrary).

And added to that,

it’s the end of the world

--or soon it shall be--

and even if it’s not,

she makes you wish it were.

Related posts:
 On Poetry, On Ogden Nash, On Haiku Part 1, On Haiku Part 2, and On Nijuin.

On a Modest Proposal

(I’ll assure you in advance that I shall not satirically advocate eating babies!)

In accordance with 1 Tim 2:8-10, I try to keep my style relatively plain and modest to not distract anyone of the opposite gender.  Unfortunately, choosing flattering, modest clothes is a challenge, as the following, rather generous Venn Diagram illustrates:

The market is flooded with thin, ragged, and low-waisted pants (read “panty-line-revealing, inappropriately-casual, and crack-displaying pants.”  And don’t get me started on the universally unattractive skinny jeans.)  Similarly, shirts with thin material, tight cuts, low necklines, and high waistlines also abound.  The rare modest ones tend to be shapeless affairs that either resemble maternity wear or just plain make me feel like a fat blob.  

I’ve found a compromise in loose cardigans over a tighter shirt, and in ribbed sweaters that somewhat hide the details of the chest while still flattering one’s figure.  A scarf could also hide low necklines, but as I’ve only started wearing scarves instead of hats with my winter coat in the last couple years, I’m not yet ready to try scarves as a coat-less fashion accessory.

I confess that I abandon some of my modesty in summer when I must walk 30 minutes in the heat to or from work; then I may wear a tight camisole, and on the hottest days may stoop to wearing jean shorts rather than calf-length capris.  (Yes, compared with female athletes who jog about in public wearing sports bras and spandex shorts, this is more modest, but in a desire not to draw strange, male eyes, I have over the past few years taken to wearing those shorts less frequently and braving the heat and unattractive tan-lines with a t-shirt more frequently.)

Given my difficulty with easily locating clothes that are at once modest, well-made, inexpensive, fashionable, and attractive (as mentioned in my previous post), for many years, I’ve toyed with the idea of a modern clothing store specifically geared toward the modest inclinations of Midwesterners and people of faith.  

Why doesn’t this exist yet?  Not even the ubiquitous Walmart caters to this concept of modesty, which is quite widespread--at least among my acquaintance.  

Eventually, with these ideas percolating once again in my brain, I laid out my plan for such a store in my Google Drive, and only a couple days after hashing it out, my mother-in-law voiced a similar desire for such a store as we searched through at least seven shops in Wichita (Michael’s, Dress Barn, Rue12, Lane Bryant, Christopher Banks, Eddie Bauer, and Old Navy) without luck until we found the new location of Maurice’s.  That store provided me with three new tops I could wear to work.

My dream-store would carry fashionable clothing for all ages and social situations, but would never carry anything too tight or too sheer (unless, in the latter case, it’s intended to rest over another layer), nor clothing that does not adequately cover relevant body parts--which caveat would extend even to bathing suits.  All would be well-made and as inexpensive as possible.

In addition, clothing would be organized as many stores are beginning to organize jeans--by cut, color, and then size--to make shopping far, far easier.  The store would also be arranged in such a way that undergarments are tucked in opposite corners behind dividers--out of the common path and out of sight from the other gender’s area so that people can browse the edge of their area--or for gifts in the other gender’s area--without shock or discomfort.  Finally, yet still vitally, employees would be appropriately paid and well-treated by superiors.

Of course, I am not likely to act upon this plan; I have no capital, no business acumen, no retail experience, and frankly, no interest in running a store.  I do, however, hope somebody with those traits picks up the idea because I would shop there exclusively!

On Personal Fashion

I’ll readily admit I am NOT the epitome of fashion, but after my college t-shirt and hoodie days, I am rather pleased by the way I have elevated my wardrobe to accommodate age- and work-appropriate attire, which (suiting my slim budget and even slimmer interest in shopping) can often double as “smart casual” apparel.  In the process, I have developed my own personal style somewhere between traditional and trendy, aiming overall for “elegant simplicity.”  

I confess I don’t often reach the elegance to which I aspire since I typically prioritize comfort and modesty over appearance--and because self-consciousness has always made it difficult for me to significantly vary my style, even when I receive many compliments on a new look.  Skirt and slacks, for instance, make me feel overdressed, so I typically stick to khakis at work and jeans at church, venturing into a skirt or slacks for certain Sundays and sometimes for a wedding, funeral, or just on a rare, adventurous whim.  

Naturally, I steer away from “high” fashion, which often looks ridiculous and changes far too quickly for my budget.  Besides, fashion trickles to the center of the U.S. so slowly, I don’t see the point in trying.  Instead, I (try to) choose longer-lasting fashions.  Thus, in lieu of my camp t-shirts and ballet t-shirts and Goodwill-closet finds (basically, in lieu of oversized, print-covered t-shirts), I’ve acquired solid-color t-shirts with feminine cuts and high v-necks which suit work as well as more casual settings.  Similarly, instead of shapeless hoodies, I can now choose from an array of more flattering sweaters and cardigans that serve the same dual purpose.  I also have several dressier shirts of various cuts and styles.  Still, other than a few lacy-topped camisoles for layering effects and improved modesty, I avoid ruffles, lace, and cuts that I suspect will soon fall out of fashion.  

To my annoyance, I struggle to find clothes that are at once well-made, modest, inexpensive, and attractive; I can typically find only two or three out of four.  However, I’ve learned I can find the best casual clothes at Walmart and work clothes at Maurice’s—and occasionally at Kohl’s and with Walmart’s George brand.

Shoes are another point of difficulty for me; I must have peculiar feet, for comfortable shoes are hard to find, and comfortable, stylish shoes are even rarer.  Furthermore, I think very little of current shoe styles—particularly dress shoes.  I despise the unflattering way those ubiquitous flats expose the base of the toes (though I reluctantly own both a brown and black pair, since after months of searching multiple stores in Hutch and Wichita, I could not finding any other dress shoes to match my skirts).  I also feel self-conscious wearing fashionable boots, though some look rather nice on other people (and I privately admire what my husband derogatively calls “hooker boots”—though the items would not complement anything in my wardrobe).  Because of this difficulty, all of my shoes are compromises that sacrifice comfort (my black sneakers and snow boots), appearance (my dress shoes), price (my hiking shoes), or durability (my flip flops). 

As for jewelry, in keeping with my simple style, I wear only my wedding ring, and when dressed up, the diamond cross necklace Daddy got me.  Similarly, my waist-length hair I just part in the middle and may bind at the nape of my neck in a pony tail or braid, or twist into a low bun or half pony-tail.  With a little effort, I can also stuff it into a modified French twist secured with a larger claw clasp.  I can achieve all these styles in less than two minutes if I'm in good form. 

My fashion sense is simple, and my wardrobe has undoubtedly improved, but I do still dither over combinations of tops and bottoms and what to wear for certain occasions.  Also, physical comfort on hot days still requires an uncomfortable sacrifice of modesty.  In all, though, I’m comfortable with my simple style, and I feel confident that most of my clothes modestly flatter me—and since a girl’s confidence in her clothes transfers to confidence in public, this is invaluable a for a self-conscious person like me. 

On Expression, Composition, Thesauri, or How to Say It

It hovers just beyond the range of cognizance—that errant word, that synonym, or that extra shade of meaning necessary to most accurately convey a thought.  

When my brain fails to produce the appropriate term, I seek one on thesaurus.com.  My eyes glide over the options, their nuances slipping lightly across my mind, which evaluates and discards each faster than my heart can beat.  Possibilities emerge that might replace the inadequate term my brain can think of, but none match the nebulous concept in my mind.  If, instead, I consider changing the other instance of a redundancy, the different context makes different possibilities more fitting.  

Click by click, I select words closer to my meaning, ever scrutinizing the entries for the One.  That word finally found (or the necessity for it removed through rewording), another farther along the page inevitably eludes me, and my mind takes off in pursuit of it.  Sometimes my brain can arrive at a suitable option before I need to resort to the thesaurus, which distracts me with wonderful words as often as it aids my composition.

Eventually—somehow—from this chaotic, mental negotiation of terms, ideas coalesce in written form, often faster than one can relate the mental processes behind their creation. And eventually—somehow—an article, short story, novel, or blog post takes publishable form.

 

Image from badideatshirts.com

If you're curious about the composition of the post above, read the following annotated version:

It hovers just beyond the range of conscious thought—that errant word, that extra shade of meaning necessary to most accurately convey a thought.  No, not “thought.”  I just used that word twice in close succession; I must find another.  But what?  Oh—and add “that synonym.”

          When my brain fails to produce the requisite an the appropriate... not “word.”  Let’s say “term,” I turn to, bring up, open, look in, use, make use of, seek one through on thesaurus.com.  My eyes glide over the... not “words” again.  Say “options.”   Their nuances... hmm... slip lightly into and out of across my mind, which miraculously It’s too common among humanity to be “miraculous.” ...unexpectedly My mind performed as expected, though. ...amazingly The brain is amazing, but does the word seem to convey pride in my brain rather than awe at brains in general--or surprise at my capacity as if it were ordinarily lacking?  Arg!   I’ll just leave out the adjective.  ...my mind, which evaluates and discards them each faster than my heart can beat while seated, at least.  

I note that “Amazing” sounds more positive than “astounding.”  Does it seem so for everyone?  How can I know whether my readers will share my same connotations?   “Awful” and “awesome” once meant nearly the same, but their meanings diverged due to connotations...

A conversation springs to mind—a frank discussion of swear words in the theater green room my freshman year of college.  My senior felt unoffended by X and shocked by Y; I perceived them in reverse.  Fascinating!

Oops—I’ve gotten distracted.

As I scan the thesaurus’s page, possibilities arise that might replace the inadequate term my brain can think of.  “...to accurately convey an...” idea, perception, concept, belief, vision... Erg.  All good words, but none precisely applicable.  Perhaps “thought” is the best word there; it covers all meanings implied by its possible potential replacements.  None match the nebulous concept in my mind.

If I, instead, consider changing the other instance of a redundancy, the different context makes different possibilities more fitting. “...the range of conscious...” speculation, understanding, deliberation, musing, grasp, comprehension, awareness, reason.  Perhaps even “...the range of conscious contemplation”?  Ha!  Alliteration!  But does it fit there?  Click by click, I choose select words closer to my meaning, my eyes ever seeking, delving, surveying, inspecting, scanning, scrutinizing the entries for the One.  Note to self: Nix “conscious thought” and write “cognizance.”  

The word for that concept That word finally found (or... what idea do I want to express?... the necessity for it removed through superior rewording), another farther along the page similarly inevitably eludes me, and my mind takes off in pursuit of it.  Sometimes my brain can arrive at a suitable option before I need to resort to the thesaurus, which distracts me with wonderful words as often as it aids my composition.  
          Eventually, somehow, miraculously, from this constant, chaotic, mental negotiation of terms, ideas ...coalesce, take shape, are refined, are communicated... take written form.  Faster than I can type, describe, explain the mental processes behind the writing ...not “process” again!  Thesaurus.... thesaurus....  ah!  Oh.  Well, those don’t help.  I’ll reword it.  Faster than I can relate the mental process behind the development of a piece of writing...  So chunky, so wordy!  I can do better.   The resultant, finished, final… no, wrong line of thought.  Let’s link it to the previous sentence with a comma.  , often, usually, one hopes, developing faster than I can relate the mental processes behind their creation.  A final edit proofing, and it’s done! And eventually, somehow, a understandable, sensible, logical, clear, comprehensible, lucid—not predictable, I should hope! writing work of literature is complete/completed takes publishable form.

On Wonder

            At rare moments, some ordinary thing catches our attention in such a way that it strikes us as completely novel and unusual; despite its commonness and our previous disregard for it, we abruptly discover it to be absolutely fascinating, and we pause to ponder at it in awe.  I treasure these almost surreal moments when I cease to take reality for granted and glimpse its true wonder.  

I’ve marveled during various times at the way rain falls so far yet lands so softly, at the way eggs grow into stiff white peaks when beaten, and at they way they help hold baked goods together—what genius or accident first added eggs to dough, anyway?  I’ve been captivated by the form of an infant, and the conception and growth of such a tiny, complex new life.  I’ve spent time reveling in the sensation of memory foam under my hand and sand between my toes.  I’ve admired the way hair isn’t all one color and how that color changes depending on light and dampness.  And toilet paper!  What an odd but useful concept. Consider erasers—wow!  

However, much is so beyond our comprehension that excessive reflection, rather than deepening our appreciation or revealing explanatory data, may make the wondrous seem insensible or ridiculous.  For instance, I recall a time waiting with friends during a particularly long Nutcracker ballet rehearsal when one of us commented how peculiar the word “the” is.  Its shape, its sound, its usage—our close examination of its oddities soon rendered it humorously absurd, and ever after, one of us would only have to whisper “the” to make the rest of us crack up.  Later, as an English major and now as a writing tutor, the word “the” has gained more meaning, yet it still seems peculiar and never ceases to intrigue me when I take the time to consider its existence and function.

As with the word “the,” education and understanding can’t quantify or mitigate wonder; only self-centeredness tries to do that.  Rather, a learned understanding of wondrous phenomenon may deepen our appreciation of its mysteries and majesty.  For example, even understanding the scientific explanation for phenomena like sunsets, what person with functional eyes doesn’t find them beautiful and feel amazed how the colors change and how the clouds texture and alter the shades?

Image courtesy of a Google search and hdw.eweb4.com

Regrettably, these moments of captivating clarity I’ve described occur with relative infrequency.  I suspect we tune out so many of the world’s wonders because we can only handle so much of it at a time.  Wonder widens our perspective and takes us beyond our Selves, breaking our illusion of control over our world.  This can frighten us, making us feel small and vulnerable.  Remembering this, it seems less peculiar, if no less sad, that some people avoid contemplating wonderful things.  

Realizations of wonder may also come infrequently since our minds must prioritize the basics: food, shelter, comfort, safety... Imagine if someone fleeing a hungry bear stopped dead to stare at ivy creeping up an oak and think, “how interesting!” and if when feeling a flash of pain thought only, “what a fascinating sensation!  I don’t enjoy this, but it’s so amazing, I want to explore it some more.”  Humanity would quickly become extinct!  

Too much wonder, too regularly, and we might also take this world and life more for granted than we do already.  Thus, on the whole, I suspect it’s good that we only get “sneak peeks” into the universe’s endless wonder.  These peeks are gifts that keep life interesting and that stir a longing in us for something beyond the mundane.  When you receive such a gift—a glimpse into the glory of the world’s Creator—do you pause to praise Him?

Do I, always?

On Frivolities

Our time on this earth seems too short or too long on given days; we speak of needing to “kill” time and yet regret “wasted” time; we often have so much to do and so little time, yet choose to spend hours in some less essential or frivolous pursuit to escape those responsibilities.  What fickle people we are! 

I’m one of those people who feels guilty when she takes a day to herself.  My husband does not—he can spend entire days gaming with not a twinge of regret.  I, however, feel compelled to accomplish.... something.  The basics of grooming and seeing to meals and the dishes isn’t even enough—I need to add to it laundry or cleaning or errands or exercise or visiting people or any of a long list of projects I’m involved with on my computer.  On days I get so engrossed in a book or useless project that I neglect undesirable work of a higher priority, self-hate follows as soon as I snap out of my activity’s grip.

I’m sure that, with a skilled apologist, few pastimes could be considered completely frivolous—at least in and of themselves.  One’s perspective on them depends upon context and, perhaps, comparison.  In a context in which a person must immediately attend to a job or bills or a leaky roof or a person who would not otherwise receive care, all other activities become frivolous (not to mention short-sighted or selfish).  Yet, in a context in which a person has no other responsibilities, personal pursuits have a more positive stigma.  Even then, however, compared with rescuing victims of an earthquake or witnessing to a neighbor or studying environmental conservation, certainly a selfish activity like reading a novel seems frivolous.  Yet, clarify that the reader is stressed to the point of rudeness or tears and that the book is relaxing, cheering, and giving the reader much-needed perspective on his problem, then that person’s context renders the activity far from frivolous.  Eight hours of novel reading, though, may seem excessive to accomplish his purpose.  Where does one draw the line and say “okay, time to get back to work” or “time to do something different”?  Who decides when guilt over such pursuits is deserved or unnecessary?

I can’t answer this question for all people and circumstances, but I will identify one clear sign that frivolities must give way to something more purposeful: a decline in mental, physical, or spiritual health.  That is, if a person’s “relaxation” turns into languor or depression from feeling useless, if a person neglects nutrition and hygiene and sanitation beyond a reasonable time, if a person grows self-centered and uncivil from becoming accustomed to only pleasing himself, and if a person begrudges God his time each day—then personal activities are truly frivolous.  At the first sign of decline, one should set personal pursuits aside and set about correcting the problem, whether it is to make an effort to eat right, to exercise, to clean, to visit with people, to do something that helps others, or most importantly, to speak with God.  
("Should"... yet oh, how the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak!)

"Three grand essentials to happiness in this life are something to do, something to love, and something to hope for." (attributed, among others, to Joseph Addison)

On House Searching

       Out they go in their suburban camouflage, armed with a realtor and stack of stats, hoping to take a shot at a nice, big one--they're house hunters!


       Yes, my husband and I are embarking on this new experience.  Are we likely to find our perfect dream house in our budget?  Heck, no!  Are we financially ready?  We hope so.  Are we looking forward to a house larger than our current 500 square feet?  Oh, yeah!
       Since we're new to all this, I can't presume to share any words of wisdom for other house buyers--though we've been receive a lot of advice, ourselves.  I can only express our understandably mixed excitement and trepidation:
       I really like the idea of better storage spaces, more and nicer kitchen counters, room for the dining table's full size and for a queen-sized bed, as well as an exercising space where I need not fear damaging the ceiling fans, the furniture, or my limbs.  Imagine!  We could actually entertain more than three people comfortably!

        However, what kind of home is best?  How much of our wish-list should we compromise?  Would it be better to build our own house?  Is home ownership only what we want, or is it also part of God's plan for us?  Is this a good investment, financially?  Will we be wise about choosing a home and taking on a mortgage, or are we getting caught up in materialism and unwise debt?  What's better--an older house with charm but in need of many little repairs, or a newer house in better condition but with fewer charm points?
        At this point, we have more questions than answers.  Whatever happens will be a learning experience, and we trust this school of hard knocks won't knock harder than God will enable us to handle.