Howard
Richler is a Montreal-area word nerd and author of these seven
books on a variety of language themes: Dead Sea Scroll Palindromes,
Take My Words, A Bawdy Language, Global Mother Tongue, Can I
Have a Word With You?, Strange Bedfellows and his most
recent book Wordplay:
Arranged and Deranged Wit ( May 2016, Ronsdale
Press, Vancouver).
HAVE PUN WILL TRAVEL
Notwithstanding
the millions of dog and cat owners, like me, robotically scooping
poop and changing litter, some misguided souls regard our species
as the dominant one on the planet. I suppose this delusion is
based on our ability to employ language that allows us to communicate
far more efficiently than other animals. We thus control the
planet, and perhaps will eventually destroy it. Language, however,
also performs a far less ‘serious’ purpose.
I'm
referring to the propensity of homo sapiens for language play.
Most people cavort with their mother tongues and revel in the
sounds. Language serves a recreational purpose and many people
also often ‘re-create’ words for their amusement.
The proclivity to pun is hardly an elitist process. Walter Redfern,
in his book Puns tells us that “Punning is a
free-for-all available to everyone . . . It is the stock-in-trade
of the low comedian and the most sophisticated wordsmith,”
and Redfern informs us that it appeals particularly to people
of a “certain temperament.” It is my hypothesis
that the inability to play with language, in one form or another,
may augur some form of pathology, (or, at the very least, a
proclivity to believe students should be allowed to bear arms
in schools).
Pronouncing definitively on what constitutes true wit is a subjective
endeavour. Complicating matters even more is the fact that the
commission of language wit occurs not only wittingly, but also
unwittingly and sometimes even half-wittedly. When we manipulate
language for the purpose of wit, I designate this process ‘arranged’
humour. At times, however, humour comes from mistakes that one
has made when it appears that we are dealing more with a twit
or a nitwit than with a wit. This form I designate as ‘deranged’
humour. Ergo, I am making the case that what is not ‘arranged’
is thus ‘deranged.’
The
arrangement and derangement of words in the English language
is facilitated by the multiplicity of meanings many words enjoy,
and much wordplay treats homonyms as if they were synonyms.
The flexibility of English aids greatly in this process. For
example. Over twenty per cent of verbs started out their lives
as nouns. If you take a gander at your body, for example, you
will find that virtually every part has been verbified so that,
from head to toe, you can head a committee, face the music,
knuckle under, foot the bill and toe the line. Also, starting
in the twelfth century, the English language underwent a process
that eliminated so many declensions, conjugations and precise
syntax that sometimes it seems that virtually any word can be
interpreted in many ways, and often lewdly. For example, the
verbs, ‘come,’ ‘do,’ ‘fix,’
‘have,’ ‘know,’ ‘make’ and
‘put’ are all replete with sexual innuendo. These
factors contribute to a greater propensity for puns in English
than in many other languages that are more highly inflected.
Schadenfreude
aside, even the kind-hearted enjoy hearing people mangle language;
we even revel when they pretend to commit some language screw-up.
In fact, the difference between a pun and a fabricated screw-up
is not always apparent. Hence, the distinction between 'arranged'
and 'deranged' is often murky. Sometimes one pretends that language
has been mangled when the reality is that the process of the
‘mistake’ is rather deliberate, and quite cleverly
constructed. Also, many a pun is without wit either because
it has been used ad nauseam or is not inherently funny,
but here again subjectivity raises its ugly head. There are
some patterns as to which people like a particular joke, but
to a large extent the process is an individual one that transcends
a host of factors such as education, gender and class level.
TO
PUN OR NOT TO PUN
If
you are a reticent punster, steel your courage and silence not
your tongue, for according to linguist David Crystal in Language
Play almost “two-thirds of the jokes in a typical
language collection rely on puns.” The humour in language
is often deliberate but many have posed this ludic question:
To pun or not to pun? Puns have been much maligned by a host
of commentators. Freud described puns as “cheap,”
and Oliver Wendell Holmes assailed them as “verbicide.”
Many writers in seventeenth-and eighteenth-century England,
such as John Dryden, Daniel Defoe and Joseph Addison believed
that the English language approached perfection and that the
inherent ambiguity in puns created confusion and impoliteness.
In an article in the Tatler in 1710, however, Jonathan
Swift mocked this “affectation of politeness,” because
he realized, as Shakespeare did, that individual words possess
multiple interpretative possibilities. Puns have had other defenders.
Three hundred years ago, Henry Erskine countered the statement
that “a pun is the lowest form of wit” by adding
that “it is therefore the foundation of all wit,”
and Oscar Levant opined that it is the “lowest form of
humour – when you didn't think of it first.”
Punning
has been a language fixture through the ages. In Homer's Odyssey,
Odysseus introduces himself to the Cyclops, as Outis, which
means ‘no man’ in Greek. He then attacks the giant,
who calls for reinforcement from his fellow monsters with the
plea “No man is killing me!” Naturally, no one rushes
to his aid, proving that the pun is indeed, mightier than the
sword. Cicero was another habitual grave punster. When a man
plowed up the burial ground of his father, Cicero couldn't resist
interjecting, “This is truly to cultivate a father`s memory.”
In
the Bible there are many puns on names. In Hebrew, adamah
means ground and edom means red. The name Adam may
derive from the red earth whence he came. The name Jacob is
derived from the Hebrew word for heel (ah'kev), because
he held onto the heel of his older twin brother Esau at birth.
However, award Jesus the prize for best Biblical pun. We read
in Matthew 16:18: “Thou art Peter ( Greek Petros),
and upon this rock (Greek petra), I will build my Church.”
Pope Gregory, one-time guardian of the Rock, punned when he
stated that English slaves were Non Angli, sed angeli;
“not Angles, but angels.”
SHAKESPEARE’S PUNS
Tis
said that in the art of punning, Shakespeare was great shakes
and without peer. Not everyone, however, appreciated the bard’s
puns. Lexicographer Samuel Johnson said that “a quibble
was to Shakespeare his fatal Cleopatra for which he lost the
world and was content to do so.” In his A Dictionary
of the English Language (1755), Johnson defines “quibble”
as “a low conceit depending on the sound of words; a pun”
and ‘punster’ is rendered as “a low wit who
endeavours at reputation by double meaning.” Hardly high
praise. Twentieth-century literary critic William Empson was
even harsher. He felt Shakespeare’s punnery showed “lack
of decision and will power, a feminine pleasure in yielding
to the mesmerism of language, in getting one’s way, if
at all, by deceit and flattery, for a poet to be so fearfully
susceptible to puns. Many of us could wish the Bard had been
more manly in his literary habits.” Empson was reiterating
a point made by eighteenth-century writer Joseph Addison who
believed that puns had to be strictly differentiated from the
more “manly Strokes” of wit and satire. Samuel Coleridge,
on the other hand, was much more understanding of Shakespeare's
penchant to pun and stated that “a pun, if congruous with
the feeling of a scene is not only allowable . . . but oftentimes
the most effective intensive of passions.”
One
study uncovered 3000 puns in the Bard's works, with an average
of 78 puns per play. Many of these occur at climactic moments.
In Macbeth, after Macbeth has killed the King, Lady
Macbeth displays a lucid dispassion when she avers, “I'll
gild the faces of the grooms withal. For it must seem their
guilt.” At the beginning of Julius Caesar, the
cobbler says he is a “saver of lost soles, and if they
are in danger, here-covers them.” In Romeo and Juliet,
the dying Mercutio exits stage left with this vaudevillian pun:
“Ask for me tomorrow and you shall find me a grave man.”
This is but one of the estimated 175 puns in Romeo and Juliet.
Even the great Dane himself, Hamlet, doggedly can't forgo expiring
without the pun “the rest is silence,” proving the
maxim that “Dying is easy, comedy is hard.” Nowadays,
we look at puns as merely exercises in jocularity but we must
bear in mind that in Shakespeare’s era, there were few
unsuitable moments for puns. Even religious puns were acceptable.
We find in Shakespeare's contemporary John Donne’s Hymn
to God The Father the line “The Son will shine as he shines
now.”
Most
of the witty wordplay in Shakespeare is wanton and somewhat
aggressive. The liveliest exchanges are between lovers who fight
their way to the altar where the wordplay is usually both seductive
and initially hostile. Shakespeare's puns can also be quite
lewd. Some of the bawdiness occurs in seemingly innocuous phrases
like “too much of a good thing,” spoken by Rosalind
to Orlando in As You Like It. In Shakespeare's day,
“thing” was a common euphemism for genitalia.
Some
scholars see sexual allusions everywhere. Frankie Rubinstein
in Dictionary of Shakespeare's Sexual Puns and their Significance
claims that the following words all have sexual connotations:
‘abhor,’ ‘abominable,’ ‘about,’
‘absolute,’ ‘abuse,’ ‘access,’
‘accommodate,’ ‘acorn,’ ‘acquaint,’
‘adventure,’ ‘advocate’ and ‘affection’
and we're not even halfway through the letter A! Rubinstein
tells us that in Elizabethan vernacular, the word ‘surgeon’
refers to the treatment of venereal disease, and thus it was
not shoes that were being mended, but the bottoms of whores.
In Cymbeline we have this line: “Will force him
think I have picked the lock, and taken the treasure of her
honour.” Here “pick the lock” refers to the
act of deflowering. In Hamlet, the Prince refers to
Polonius as a ‘fishmonger,’ and is angry because
he believes Polonius is responsible for Ophelia rejecting him.
The term ‘fish’ was used in the sixteenth century
as an off-colour allusion to a woman. Hence, Hamlet is essentially
calling Polonius a pimp.
Many
of Shakespeare’s puns would nowadays be considered groaners.
On the other hand, the fact that so many people enjoy bad puns
shows that they serve a purpose and even contribute to a sense
of community, for they transcend class distinctions. One should
remember that Shakespeare is also employing them as a device
to release tension in an audience.
PUNS
BY OTHER LITERARY GREATS
Lewis
Carroll was another inveterate punster. In Through the Looking
Glass we have this passage: “Here the Red Queen began
again. ‘Can you answer useful questions?’ she said.
‘How is bread made?’ ‘I know THAT!’
Alice cried eagerly. ‘You take some flour— ' ‘Where
do you pick the flower?’ the White Queen asked. ‘In
a garden, or in the hedges?’ ‘Well, it isn't PICKED
at all,’ Alice explained: ‘it's GROUND—’
‘How many acres of ground?’ said the White Queen.
‘You mustn't leave out so many things.’ ‘Fan
her head.’ The Red Queen anxiously interrupted, ‘She’ll
be feverish after so much thinking.’ ” The puns
that Carroll uses are based on homophones and word ambiguities
that are likely to be understood by a sharp ten-year-old. For
example, when Alice tells the Duchess, “The earth takes
twenty-four hours to turn around on its axis,” the Duchess
retorts: “talking of axes” -- off with her head.”
When the Mouse tells Alice, “Mine is a long and sad tale,”
Alice is confused and asks him why having a long tail makes
him sad.
Oscar
Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest is another
great source for puns. Its protagonist Jack Worthing pretends
that he has a black sheep brother named Ernest but only Jack
is aware that he, in fact, is Ernest. In one passage Jack says,
“Aunt Augusta I've now realized for the first time in
my life the importance of Being Earnest.” Many of Wilde's
puns serve the purpose of highlighting the narrow-mindedness
and hypocrisy of Victorian society. This is the intent when
Lady Bracknell asks, “Mr. Worthing, is Miss Cardew at
all connected with any of the large railway stations in London?
. . . Until yesterday I had no idea that there were families
of persons whose origins was a Terminus.” As a member
of the nobility, Lady Bracknell is mocking Jack's lack of knowledge
about his family to underscore their different social ranks.
For her, the marriage of Gwendolen Fairfax to Jack would result
in a dead end -- or a terminus. For pure comic content, however,
my favourite pun in the play is this famous quip by Lady Bracknell:
“To lose one parent, Mr. Worthing, is a misfortune; to
lose both looks like carelessness.” This pun plays on
the dual senses of ‘lose’ as ‘misplace’
and “have a loved one die.”
Some
commentators have found the plethora of puns found in James
Joyce's masterpieces Ulysses and Finnegans Wake
to be offputting, but Joyce was unapologetic on this matter.
He countered, “After all, the Holy Roman Catholic Apostolic
Church was built on a pun” referring to the aforementioned
quip by Jesus in Matthew 16:18: “Thou art Peter (Greek
Petros), and upon this rock (Greek petra)
I will build my Church.” When asked whether many of the
puns in Ulysses and Finnegans Wake were in
essence trivial, nonplussed he retorted, “Yes some of
them are trivial and some of them are quadrivial.” In
other words, they have at least four sources, not three. (‘trivial’
literally means ‘three roads’). The trivium represented
the three parts of classical liberal arts that included rhetoric,
grammar and logic.
Many
of Joyce's puns were rather naughty and at times he even “out-bawdied”
Shakespeare. For example, in Ulysses we find this little
poem:
I
only wish I knew {Bill Vander Zalm} before his lobotomy. (Kim
Campbell)
Clement
Attlee is a modest man, who has a good deal to be modest about.
(Winston Churchill)
{Stafford
Cripps} has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices
I admire.
(Winston Churchill)
{William
Gladstone }is a sophisticated rhetorician, inebriated with the
exuberance of his verbosity. (Benjamin Disraeli)
His
{Ronald Reagan}ignorance is encyclopedic. (Abba Eban)
In
a disastrous fire in President Reagan’s library both books
were burned. And the tragedy is he hadn’t finished coloring
one. (Jonathan Hunt)
{Gerald
Ford } is so dumb he can’t fart and chew gum at the same
time. (Lyndon Baines Johnson)
He
compresses the most words into the smallest idea of any man
I know. (Abraham Lincoln) (Perhaps, Lincoln's target was his
political opponent Stephen Douglas.)
When
they circumcised Herbert Samuel they threw away the wrong bit.
(David Lloyd George)
Since
in politics, it takes at least two to tangle, we have the following
verbal sparring:
Labour
MP Bessie Braddock: Winston, you’re drunk.
Winston
Churchill: Bessie, you’re ugly. But tomorrow I shall be
sober.
Nancy
Astor: If I were your wife I would put poison in your coffee.
Winston Churchill: And if I were your husband I would drink
it.
William
Gladstone: You sir, shall either die of hanging, or from a social
disease.
Benjamin
Disraeli: That all depends, sir, whether I embrace your politics
or your mistress.
Australian
PM Paul Keating: John Hewson is simply a shiver looking for
a spine to run up.
Keating’s
political foe John Hewson: I decided the worst thing you can
call Paul Keating, quite frankly, is Paul Keating.
For
more of Howard Richler:
How
Happy Became Homosexual
Linguistic
Correctness Redux
No
Apology for Neology
The
Enigmatic Palindrome
We
Stand on Cars and Freeze
As
You Like It.
Can
I Have a Word With You
The Significant Other Conundrum
Yinnglish-Schminglish
The
Oxfordization of Poutine