The David Foster Wallace Reader by David Foster Wallace
Not to mention that the particular kind of funniness Kafka deploys is deeply alien to students whose neural resonances are American.2 The fact is that Kafka’s humor has almost none of the particular forms and codes of contemporary US amusement. There’s no recursive wordplay or verbal stunt-pilotry, little in the way of wisecracks or mordant lampoon. There is no body-function humor in Kafka, nor sexual entendre, nor stylized attempts to rebel by offending convention. No Pynchonian slapstick with banana peels or rogue adenoids. No Rothish priapism or Barthish metaparody or Woody Allen–type kvetching. There are none of the ba-bing ba-bang reversals of modern sitcoms; nor are there precocious children or profane grandparents or cynically insurgent coworkers. Perhaps most alien of all, Kafka’s authority figures are never just hollow buffoons to be ridiculed, but are always absurd and scary and sad all at once, like “In the Penal Colony” ’s Lieutenant.
My point is not that his wit is too subtle for US students. In fact, the only halfway effective strategy I’ve come up with for exploring Kafka’s funniness in class involves suggesting to students that much of his humor is actually sort of unsubtle—or rather anti-subtle. The claim is that Kafka’s funniness depends on some kind of radical literalization of truths we tend to treat as metaphorical. I opine to them that some of our most profound collective intuitions seem to be expressible only as figures of speech, that that’s why we call these figures of speech expressions. With respect to “The Metamorphosis,” then, I might invite students to consider what is really being expressed when we refer to someone as creepy or gross or say that he is forced to take shit as part of his job. Or to reread “In the Penal Colony” in light of expressions like tongue-lashing or tore him a new asshole or the gnomic “By middle age, everyone’s got the face they deserve.” Or to approach “A Hunger Artist” in terms of tropes like starved for attention or love-starved or the double entendre in the term self-denial, or even as innocent a factoid as that the etymological root of anorexia happens to be the Greek word for longing.
The students usually end up engaged here, which is great; but the teacher still sort of writhes with guilt, because the comedy-as-literalization-of-metaphor tactic doesn’t begin to countenance the deeper alchemy by which Kafka’s comedy is always also tragedy, and this tragedy always also an immense and reverent joy. This usually leads to an excruciating hour during which I backpedal and hedge and warn students that, for all their wit and exformative voltage, Kafka’s stories are not fundamentally jokes, and that the rather simple and lugubrious gallows humor that marks so many of Kafka’s personal statements—stuff like “There is hope, but not for us”—is not what his stories have got going on.
What Kafka’s stories have, rather, is a grotesque, gorgeous, and thoroughly modern complexity, an ambivalence that becomes the multivalent Both/And logic of the, quote, “unconscious,” which I personally think is just a fancy word for soul. Kafka’s humor—not only not neurotic but anti-neurotic, heroically sane—is, finally, a religious humor, but religious in the manner of Kierkegaard and Rilke and the Psalms, a harrowing spirituality against which even Ms. O’Connor’s bloody grace seems a little bit easy, the souls at stake pre-made.
And it is this, I think, that makes Kafka’s wit inaccessible to children whom our culture has trained to see jokes as entertainment and entertainment as reassurance.3 It’s not that students don’t “get” Kafka’s humor but that we’ve taught them to see humor as something you get—the same way we’ve taught them that a self is something you just have. No wonder they cannot appreciate the really central Kafka joke: that the horrific struggle to establish a human self results in a self whose humanity is inseparable from that horrific struggle. That our endless and impossible journey toward home is in fact our home. It’s hard to put into words, up at the blackboard, believe me. You can tell them that maybe it’s good they don’t “get” Kafka. You can ask them to imagine his stories as all about a kind of door. To envision us approaching and pounding on this door, increasingly hard, pounding and pounding, not just wanting admission but needing it; we don’t know what it is but we can feel it, this total desperation to enter, pounding and ramming and kicking. That, finally, the door opens… and it opens outward—we’ve been inside what we wanted all along. Das ist komisch.
1999
“Save up to 50%, and More!” Between you and I. On accident. Somewhat of a. Kustom Kar Kare Autowash. “The cause was due to numerous factors.” “Orange Crush—A Taste That’s All It’s Own.” “Vigorex: Helping men conquer sexual issues.” “Equal numbers of both men and women opposed the amendment.” Feedback. “As drinking water becomes more and more in short supply.” “IMATION—Borne of 3M Innovation.” Point in time. Time frame. “At this point in time, the individual in question was observed, and subsequently apprehended by authorities.” Here for you, there for you. Fail to comply with for violate. Comprised of. From whence. Quote for quotation. Nauseous for nauseated. Besides the point. To mentor, to parent. To partner. To critique. Indicated for said. Parameters for limits and options for choices and viable options for options and workable solution for solution. In point of fact. Prior to this time. As of this point in the time frame. Serves to. Tends to be. Convince for persuade, portion for part. Commence to, cease to. Expedite. Request for ask. Eventuate for happen. Subsequent to this time. Facilitate. “Author’s Foreward.” Aid in. Utilize. Detrimental. Equates with. In regards to. “It has now made its way into the mainstream of verbal discourse.” Tragic, tragedy. Grow as non-ag. transitive. Keep for stay. “To demonstrate the power of Epson’s New Stylus Color Inkjet Printer with 1440 d.p.i., just listen:” Could care less. Personal issues, core issues. Fellow colleagues. Goal-orientated. Resources. To share. Feelings. Nurture, empower, recover. Valid for true. Authentic. Productive, unproductive. “I choose to view my opponent’s negative attacks as unproductive to the real issues facing the citizens of this campaign.” Incumbent upon. Mandate. Plurality. Per anum. Conjunctive adverbs in general. Instantaneous. Quality as adj. Proactive. Proactive Mission Statement. Positive feedback. A positive role model. Compensation. Validation. As for example. True facts are often impactful. “Call now for your free gift!” I only wish. Not too good of a. Potentiality for potential. Pay the consequences of. Obligated. At this juncture. To reference. To process. Process. The process of. The healing process. The grieving process. “Processing of feelings is a major component of the grieving process.” To transition. Commensurant. “Till the stars fall from the sky/For you and I.” Working together. Efficacious, effectual. Lifestyle. This phenomena, these criterion. Irregardless. If for whether. As for because. “Both sides are working together to achieve a workable consensus.” Dysfunctional family of origin. S.O. To nest. Support. Relate to. Merge together. KEEP IN OWN LANE. For whomever wants it. “My wife and myself wish to express our gratitude and thanks to you for being there to support us at this difficult time in our life.” Diversity. Quality time. Values, family values. To conference. “French provincial twin bed with canape and box spring, $150.” Take a wait-and-see attitude. Cum-N-Go Quik Mart. Travelodge. Self-confessed. Precise estimate. More correct. Very possible, very unique. “Travel times on the expressways are reflective of its still being bad out there.” Budgetel. More and more inevitable. EZPAY. RENT2OWN. MENS’ ROOM. LADY’S ROOM. Individual for person. Whom for who, that for who. “The accident equated to a lot of damage.” Ipse dixie. Falderol. “‘Waiting on’ is a dialectical locution on the rise and splitting its meaning.” Staunch the flow. AM in the morning. Forte as “for tay.” Advisement. Most especially. Sum total. Final totals. Complete dearth. “You can donate your used car or truck in any condition.” At present. At the present time. Challenge for problem, challenging for hard. Closure. Judgement. Nortorious. Miniscule. Mischievious. “Both died in an apartment Dr. Kevorkian was leasing after inhaling carbon monoxide.” Bald-faced. “No obligation required!”
Authority and American Usage*
Acknowledgements. To give off the impression. Inst
Dilige et quod vis fac.
–AUGUSTINE
DID YOU KNOW that probing the seamy underbelly of US lexicography reveals ideological strife and controversy and intrigue and nastiness and fervor on a near-Lewinskian scale?
For instance, did you know that some modern dictionaries are notoriously liberal and others notoriously conservative, and that certain conservative dictionaries were actually conceived and designed as corrective responses to the “corruption” and “permissiveness” of certain liberal dictionaries? That the oligarchic device of having a special “Distinguished Usage Panel… of outstanding professional speakers and writers” is some dictionaries’ attempt at a compromise between the forces of egalitarianism and traditionalism in English, but that most linguistic liberals dismiss the Usage Panel device as mere sham-populism, as in e.g. “Calling upon the opinions of the elite, it claims to be a democratic guide”?
Did you know that US lexicography even had a seamy underbelly?
The occasion for this article is Oxford University Press’s recent release of Mr. Bryan A. Garner’s A Dictionary of Modern American Usage, a book that Oxford is marketing aggressively and that it is my assigned function to review. It turns out to be a complicated assignment. In today’s US, a typical book review is driven by market logic and implicitly casts the reader in the role of consumer. Rhetorically, its whole project is informed by a question that’s too crass ever to mention up front: “Should you buy this book?” And because Bryan A. Garner’s usage dictionary belongs to a particular subgenre of a reference genre that is itself highly specialized and particular, and because at least a dozen major usage guides have been published in the last couple years and some of them have been quite good indeed,1 the central unmentionable question here appends the prepositional comparative “… rather than that book?” to the main clause and so entails a discussion of whether and how ADMAU is different from other recent specialty-products of its kind.
The fact of the matter is that Garner’s dictionary is extremely good, certainly the most comprehensive usage guide since E. W. Gilman’s Webster’s Dictionary of English Usage, now a decade out of date.2 But the really salient and ingenious features of A Dictionary of Modern American Usage involve issues of rhetoric and ideology and style, and it is impossible to describe why these issues are important and why Garner’s management of them borders on genius without talking about the historical context3 in which ADMAU appears, and this context turns out to be a veritable hurricane of controversies involving everything from technical linguistics and public education to political ideology,4 and these controversies take a certain amount of time to unpack before their relation to what makes Garner’s dictionary so eminently worth your hard-earned reference-book dollar can even be established; and in fact there’s no way even to begin the whole harrowing polymeric discussion without first taking a moment to establish and define the highly colloquial term SNOOT.
From one perspective, a certain irony attends the publication of any good new book on American usage. It is that the people who are going to be interested in such a book are also the people who are least going to need it—i.e., that offering counsel on the finer points of US English is preaching to the choir. The relevant choir here comprises that small percentage of American citizens who actually care about the current status of double modals and ergative verbs. The same sorts of people who watched The Story of English on PBS (twice) and read Safire’s column with their half-caff every Sunday. The sorts of people who feel that special blend of wincing despair and sneering superiority when they see EXPRESS LANE—10 ITEMS OR LESS or hear dialogue used as a verb or realize that the founders of the Super 8 Motel chain must surely have been ignorant of the meaning of suppurate. There are lots of epithets for people like this—Grammar Nazis, Usage Nerds, Syntax Snobs, the Grammar Battalion, the Language Police. The term I was raised w
I submit that we SNOOTs are just about the last remaining kind of truly elitist nerd. There are, granted, plenty of nerd-species in today’s America, and some of these are elitist within their own nerdy purview (e.g., the skinny, carbuncular, semi-autistic Computer Nerd moves instantly up on the totem pole of status when your screen freezes and now you need his help, and the bland condescension with which he performs the two occult keystrokes that unfreeze your screen is both elitist and situationally valid). But the SNOOT’s purview is interhuman life itself. You don’t, after all (despite withering cultural pressure), have to use a computer, but you can’t escape language: language is everything and everywhere; it’s what lets us have anything to do with one another; it’s what separates us from animals; Genesis 11:7–10 and so on. And we SNOOTs know when and how to hyphenate phrasal adjectives and to keep participles from dangling, and we know that we know, and we know how very few other Americans know this stuff or even care, and we judge them accordingly.
In ways that certain of us are uncomfortable with, SNOOTs’ attitudes about contemporary usage resemble religious/political conservatives’ attitudes about contemporary culture.6 We combine a missionary zeal and a near-neural faith in our beliefs’ importance with a curmudgeonly hell-in-a-handbasket despair at the way English is routinely defiled by supposedly literate adults.7 Plus a dash of the elitism of, say, Billy Zane in Titanic—a fellow SNOOT I know likes to say that listening to most people’s public English feels like watching somebody use a Stradivarius to pound nails. We8 are the Few, the Proud, the More or Less Constantly Appalled at Everyone Else.
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