William Gass Readings

William Gass read from his work-in-progress, Middle Sea, Thursday at the Prospect Heights Brooklyn Public Library. Ostensibly, the occasion celebrated the 40^th anniversary of Willie Masters’ Lonesome Wife, but Gass doesn’t like reading what can’t be revised, the dead works. Upon entering the theater, Ula and I saw Gass’s little white head seated down in front with his wife. I asked him to sign my Saintsbury (A History of English Prose Rhythm), a request arousing surprise from Mary Gass. The man looks well for 84, despite cataracts.

He read for about 40 minutes, and I wondered to what extent we were privileged to hear this material, considering his age: he says he has 400 pages down, with about 400 to go. The passage, entitled The Man Who Spoke With His Hands, is characteristically baroque. The gesticulations of its protagonist are wildly expressive, more so even than those of The Tunnel’s Magus Tabor. (Gass’s gesticulations were partially hidden by the podium, but not so the following night, at a reading in a small bookstore. The Master’s hands are tiny, hairless, and age-spotted. Tiny little fingernails.)

After the reading, Gass took questions. I asked him, in reference to an interview he gave a college newspaper, what the protagonist of Middle Sea pretended to. He delighted us with some of the story: a professor, escaping a bad situation somewhere in Europe, pretended in London to Judaism, failed, and then crossed the ocean to pretend at a university in Ohio. Teaching music, he pretends presently in the narrative to love Schoenberg, when in fact he loves Liszt. His daughter has accompanied him, and “has gone rather far” in seducing her teachers. The title Middle Sea is a pun on what was to be the middle novella of three starting with the letter ‘c’, the first and last being already completed; however Middle Sea has turned into a novel.

There were a few other general questions about writing (total in attendance, around 25), and I decided to ask a second question: what are his favorite restaurants in New York. He answered that he isn’t around enough, or doesn’t have enough money, to have any.

After the reading, Ula went up to him and had him sign her Willie Masters’ Lonesome Wife. She said, apparently, that she was newly into him, and had been introduced to his writing by me, his biggest fan.

The following night, Friday, Ula and I went to Gass’s other New York reading, at 192 Books on tenth ave. The crowd was the same size, but the venue was much smaller. He read the same passage again, and I meditated on his modulation, especially the occasional low grumble, not all that low considering his high register. I waited for the rest of the audience who hadn’t been there the previous night, to ask questions. I asked the last question: would he tell us some of the writers, other than Kafka and Barthelme, he paid secret homage to in each of the beginnings of the twelve parts of The Tunnel. He named Collette, but hedged a bit and suggested the homages weren’t uniform. He especially liked, though, being able to play around with signature styles, for example using Collette’s when addressing dark material. Another person asked whether he listened to music while writing, and he said no, but he does like to listen to music as much as he can. He is a Berliozan, likes Bach’s partitas, and late Liszt. The really tough stuff, bits of Bartok, he listens to infrequently. When asked about what time of day he writes, he said he likes to write in the morning, every day if possible, but that he isn’t mean enough to insist on it, given the demands of family man and a citizen. When he got the grant enabling him to go somewhere and finish The Tunnel, however, he wrote 12-14 hours a day for a year.

After the reading, I had him sign my copy of The Tunnel—not that I cared about the signature—I just wanted more face time. I told him the reading was a pleasure, and as he signed the book, I told him a little bit about a letter I saw of his from 67, sold to someone on ebay—how it was floating out there in a time warp. Here is the letter:

June 12, 1967

Dear Bill,

Thank you, of course, for Book Week. Do my words reach

so far as Washington? Fancy that.

You must tell me all about how it was (or is or will have

been) at the reunion. I should love to have been there, if

I could have been invisible. What is your connection with

Mr. Burr (whom I barely know). He called; presented your

greetings; urged my attendance; received my, I hope, genial

refusal; rang off.

My wife is this moment in Arkansas reunioning with her

mother and sister, and she is not cruel, but has most

kindly taken the kids away with her into the momentary never-

never, and it is so quiet, so pleasantly quiet, so sweetly

silent, so calm, so restful, peaceful, serene… that I drink

Irish straight from the bottle and play Bach full blast.

A collection of short stories, called IN THE HEART OF THE

HEART OF THE COUNTRY, is not at my publishers. So sooner

than I should like I must run the gauntlet again.

I do not give up hope – one day, Washington.

Give me news of yourself. Protect us from the socialisssts.

Best,

Bill

The Hight Style in Chaucer

(From: I cannot remember where on the internet)

An almost invariable mark of Chaucer's high style is the occupatio (or praeteritio) -- a refusal to describe or narrate (see note by Vincent Di Marco in Riverside Chaucer, n. 875-88, pp. 828-29). This is often used to supply a good deal of specification of a subject under cover of omitting it:

But it were al to longe for to devyse
The grete clamour and the waymentynge
That the ladyes made at the brennynge
Of the bodies, and the grete honour
That Theseus, the noble conquerour,
Dooth to the ladyes, whan they from hym wente;
But shortly for to telle is myn entente. (KnT I.994-1000).

It is also used as a simple "refusal to narrate":

His felawe wente and soughte hym doun in helle --
But of that storie list me nat to write. (KnT I.1200-01).

And it is sometimes combined with dubitatio -- doubting what to say or how to say it:

Who koude ryme in Englyssh proprely
His martirdom? For sothe it am nat I;
Therfore I passe as lightly as I may. (KnT I.1459-61).

This last example may be an instance of the "affected modesty" or "humility topos," the protestation that the author is unworthy or incapable of doing justice to his subject. For an extreme example see Benedict Burgh's Letter to Lydgate, where the protestation of ignorance of rhetoric is the occasion for an elaborate display of rhetorical devices. More briefly:

To smal is bothe my pen and eke my tonge,
For to descryven of this mariage. (MerT IV.1735-36).

Closely linked to the "humility topos" is the "inexpressibility topos" ("topos" means "commonplace"), the common protestation that no one could do justice to the wonders of which the narrator tells:

So fair a gardyn woot I nowher noon.
For, out of doute, I verraily suppose
That he that wroot the Romance of the Rose
Ne koude of it the beautee wel devyse;
Ne Priapus ne myghte nat suffise,
Though he be god of gardyns, for to telle
The beautee of the gardyn and the welle
That stood under a laurer alwey grene. (MerT IV.2030 -37)

Such devices seem to be means of compressing the narrative, but they serve rather as means of expanding statements, the dilation that that is the main aim of the rhetorician.

Among the methods the rhetoricians recommended for a dilating a narative is the chronographia, the specification of time by reference to the astronomical state of the sky. The opening lines of The Canterbury Tales provide the most famous example, one often imitated by Chaucer's followers. The fifteenth-century Scots poet, Robert Henryson, begins his Testament of Crisseid, a "continuation" of Chaucer's Troilus with an elaborate astrological specification of time:

A dismal sessoun to ane care-full ditty
Should correspond and be equivalent
Right so it was when I began to write,
When Aries, in middes of the Lent,
Showers of hail did from the north descend,
That scarsly from the cold I might defend.

Yit nevertheles within myne study
I stood, when Titan had his beams bright
Withdrawn down and sailed under cover,
And fair Venus, the beauty of the night,
Uprose and set unto the west full right
Her golden face, in opposition
Of God Phebus, direct descending down. (Test. Cr., translated)

New Words

From Johnson’s Dictionary:

Accroach: to assume to oneself without right or authority; usurp. ; to gripe, draw away by degrees what is another’s.

Accubation: leaning/lying at meals. The act or posture of reclining on a couch, as practiced by the ancients at meals.

Adulterine: bastard of adultery

Agonists: prize fighter;

Airling: young, light, thoughtless person.

Amaranth: flower that never fades; Any of various annuals of the genus Amaranthus having dense green or reddish clusters of tiny flowers and including several weeds, ornamentals, and food plants. ; A deep reddish purple to dark or grayish, purplish red.

Anagogic: of or pertaining to an anagoge. That which contributes to or relates to spiritual elevation or religious raptures; mysterious, elevated above humanity.

Anagoge: (anagoje) :

A mystical interpretation of a word, passage, or text, especially scriptural exegesis that detects allusions to heaven or the afterlife.

Babery: finery to please a child

Bellibone: a woman excelling in both beauty and goodness;

Brumal: belonging to winter

Calenture: a distemper of sailors in hot climates: they throw themselves in the sea, believing it to be fields

Changeling: a child surreptitiously or unintentionally substituted for another.; (in folklore) an ugly, stupid, or strange child left by fairies in place of a pretty, charming child.

Fondling: a person or thing much fondled; thing regarded with affection

Quillet: nicety; fraudulent distinction

Raff: To sweep, snatch, draw, or huddle together; to take by a promiscuous sweep

Recreant: having deserted a cause or principle; lacking even the rudiments of courage; abjectly fearful;

Rusticate: to move to the country; to stay or sojourn in the country

Stager: player long on the stage of life; cunning, one who possesses wisdom of long experience.

Termagant: a nagging, yelling, violent, bad-tempered woman

Victuals (vit’ls) : food supplies; provisions.

Colonial American English; Richard M. Lederer, Jr.

Agitation (v) To discuss; to debate. Governeur Morris wrote, “He desires a further conversation when the matter shall be agitated.”

battle hammed: Having thick buttocks. An obsolete word, unrelated to ‘fight’. Battle meant to grow fat.

black frost: a frost so severe that vegetables turn black. Washington wrote in his 1787 diary, “This morning there was a small white frost and a black one which was so severe as to stop brick laying.”

Blue: (adj.) Obscene. Perhaps from the color of burning brimstone.

Bonnyclabber: thickened sour milk. From Irish bainne ‘milk’ and clabar ‘the dasher or lid of a churn.’

Boodle: personal effects. From Dutch boedel ‘estate, possession’.

Breathe: to exercise. In 1710 William Byrd wrote, “I ran to breathe myself.”

Bundle: (v) Of young courting lads and lasses, to occupy the same bed, with clothes on, for warmth. Sometimes a bundling board was used to separate them.

Burgess: (n.) a representative of a borough to a legislature. In Maryland and Virginia the Colonial legislature was called The House of Burgesses.

butter whore: a scolding woman who sells butter.

Carriage (n.) the manner of carrying oneself; bearing. The 1650 Connecticut Blue Laws referred to “contemptuous carriages.”

Commodious: (adj.) Convenient, suitable. In 1608 Capt. John Smith described Virginia as “pleasing and commodious.”

Countenance: (v.) To favor, encourage. In 1749 Franklin wrote of the need to “encourage and countenance the youth.”

Covenous: collusive, deceitful.

cucking stool: A chair into which a scold or a dishonest tradesman was fastened. Passersby could throw objects or insults at the victim. Occasionally the chair would be taken to water and the victim would be ducked. The word comes from the Old Norse kuka, ‘dung’, from the resembles of the stool to that which held a chamber pot.

Daggle: to run through the mud and water.

Derange: to throw into confusion physically. In 1771 Franklin wrote, “he deranged all our mercantile operations.”

Descant: to comment, to discourse. In 1749 Franklin advocated teaching: “morality, by descanting and making continual observations on the causes of the rise or fall of any man’s character.”

Dog Whipper: one hired to chase dogs out of church.

Dress: to put in good order. In 1643 Roger Williams wrote, “ they plant it, dresse it, gather it.”

Drisk: a drizzly fog. Samuel Sewall in 1717 recorded that: “my calash defended me well from the Cold Drisk.”

Englishman’s Fly: a bee. In 1778 Thomas Anburey wrote, “the Indians have no word for a bee, and therefore they call them the Englishman’s fly.”

Enjoy: to get pleasure from. When in 1710 William Byrd wrote, “In the afternoon I enjoyed my wife,” he meant ‘physically.’

Entertainment: provisions and lodging. The 1767 South Carolina Remonstrance referred to: “a tavern to provide entertainment for man and horse.”

Estate: condition. In 1608 Capt. John Smith wrote, “we greatly refreshed our weak estate.”

Fabian: (adj.) Delaying, dilatory. In imitation of the Roman general Quintus Fabius Maximus who conducted operations against Hannibal in 202 B.C. by harassing him but declined decisive battles, thus living to fight another day.

Fain (adj.) Glad, pleased. In 1646 William Bradford recorded, “This fellow was so desperate a quarreler, as the captain was fain many times to chain him under hatches from hurting his fellows.”

Fancy Goods: Any novelties to strike one’s fancy.

Farcy: a disease of horses and mules, sometimes of oxen, akin to scabies or mange.

Fire and Candle, keep: To stay at one’s home.

Flanking Mare: a horse which tended to move sideways, shying, and generally being tedious to ride. An actor in a 1770 play complained of being obliged: “to ride a flanking mare about camp (which was no small mortification.)”

Flight: a light fall of snow. From Old English fliht ‘flake’. A 1670 Massachusetts document recorded, “This day was the first flight of snow this winter.”

Flourish: (n.) an act of hasty sexual intercourse. Possibly from the flourishing of a weapon. In 1709, 1710, and 1711 William Byrd entered in his diary, “I gave my wife a flourish this morning.” (Once was on the billiard table.)

Fool: a puree of gooseberries, scalded and pounded, with cream.

Gammon (n.) a smoked ham. By extension, buttocks.

Gander Pulling. A sport. A goose with a greased neck was hung by the feet. A man, riding quickly on horseback, tried to pull the goose’s head off.

Gentry: (n.) Any people of education and good breeding.

Goodman: (n.) An appellation of civility; equivalent to Mister.

Goodwife: (n.) The feminine of Goodman.

Goody: (n.) Informal for Goodwife.

Grenadier: a member of an elite troop that usually served as one of the flank companies of each regiment. They were originally large men who could throw hand bombs (grenades.)

Hasty Pudding: a concoction of oatmeal or cornmeal boiled with water or milk.

Hogreeve: A town official who impounded stray hogs.

Housen: plural of house. “upper housen”

House of Office: A privy. A definition of office is the action of discharging feces. In 1652 Boston passed a law: “It is ordered that noe house of Office shall stand within twentie foot of any hie way.”

Husband: (v.) to use sparingly, as any good master of a household would. In 1715 William Byrd referred to “a bottle of wine husbanded very carefully.”

Increase (n.) Any progeny. In 1768 Washington listed, “two Milch Cows (one half of whose IncreaseI am to have.)”

Instance: to give an example.

Jolly Boat: a small boat of a large, like a dinghy.

Leading Strings: strings by which children were supported while learning to walk.

Lord of Misrule: the director of Christmas-time jollity.

Lug the wrong sow by the ear: capture the wrong person.

Lumber: any miscellaneous odds and ends around the house.

Lumber Room: a room or odds and ends and unused things.

Mumbudget: (adj.) a silent sack or pouch. Jeremy Taylor (1613-1667) wrote, “A woman should be the mumbudget of silence.”

Myrmidion (n.) a civil servant who follows orders diligently. The Myrmidioins went to the siege of Troy with Achilles and were noted for their diligence and blind devotion.

Nappy: a frothy ale.

Novanglian: applying to New England.

Ortolan: a bird about the size of a lark and delicious eating.

Oyster Basket: the vagina; a place for depositing oysters, gobs of semen. A version of Yankee Doodle ran, “Heigh for our Cape Cod/Heigh ho Nantasket/Do not let the Boston wags/Feel your Oyster Basket.”

Pennyroyal: an herb from which a brew was made that was taken to counteract nausea. From Latin puleium regium, flea bane, for the effectiveness of the European plan against fleas.

Plumping House: a bard where animals were fattened.

Punk: a prostitute. A character in a 1777 play said, “Rolling along arm in arm with his punk.”

Regale: (n.) 1- A source of gratification. Washington described “a featherbed with clean sheets which was a very agreeable regale.” 2- A refreshing drink.

Regaling (adj.) Refreshing, gratifying. Washington referred to “fine and regaling weather.”

Ring: to fit a ring in a swine’s snout. Mamaroneck, New York, town law required the howard (swineherd) if he found “any hog running at large in the town without being rung, to ring the same forthwith.”

Scoterkin (n.) a false birth fabled to be produced by Dutch women from sitting over their fires.

Sheep Walk: a sheep pasture.

Sippet: A small something dipped in milk or broth.

Slut: A girl of lower social standing. In 1774 Phillip Fithian recorded “a slave towards Evening brought me half a Water-Melon. I accepted and thanked the pretty little slut, she seems so artless and delicate I esteem her exceedingly.”

Sluttish: dirty. In 1682 Mary Rowlandson mentioned “a sluttish trick.”

Smother: (n.) a state of confusion; from the sense of dense, stifling smoke. A 1776 version of Yankee Doodle included “They kept up such a smother.”

Strong Water: whiskey.

Thrum: to copulate.

Tithe of Mint & Cumin: An unimportant thing. This phrase was used metaphorically, as Jesus had used it, to criticize one, or a group, who paid more attention to detail than to large, more important things.

Tyburn Tulips: candidates for hanging.

Underwood: the small trees that grow among large trees. In 1669 John Lederer wrote, “the ground is over-grown with underwood in many places.”

Viaticum: provisions for a journey.

Wag: one who is inclined to engage in low sport.

Wench: a young woman.

Whet: (n.) something that stimulates an appetite. In 1708 Ebenezer Cook wrote, “who found them drinking for a whet, a cask of cider.”

Whiffler: one who changes his opinion; a vacillator.

Yeoman: a small freeholder. A man of respected class, yet lower in rank than a gentleman.

Totally Weird and Wonderful Words; Ed. Erin McKean

Abligurition (A-blig-yoo-RISH-un) the spending of an unconscionable amount on food. This comes from a Latin word meaning ‘to spend freely and indulgently on luxuries,’ which was itself derived from another Latin word meaning ‘to lick.’

Acroama (ak-ro-AM-uh) oral teachings heard only by close disciples. Teachings that are not written down. From a Greek word meaning ‘anything heard.’

Agonous (AG-uh-nus) : obviously related to agony, this word’s meaning hasn’t yet been watered down: it means struggling, engaged in mortal combat.

Anareta: astrological term meaning a killing planet, a planet threatening death.

Barathrum: (BARR-uh-thrum) a deep pit in Athens, into which condemned criminals were thrown to die.

Bouffage: (boo-FAHZH) a filling meal. From an Old French word glossed into the OED with a quote from Cotgrave as ‘any meat that (eated greedily) fills the mouth, and makes the cheeks to swell; cheeke-puffing meat.’

Callipygian: (ka-li-PIJ-ee-uhn) an adjective meaning ‘having shapely buttocks.’ The term comes from Greek words meaning ‘beauty’ and ‘buttocks’.

Carphology: (kar-FAH-luh-jee) the movements of delirious patients, especially pulling at sheets or blankets, or movements that seem to suggest a search for imaginary objects. This word comes from a Greek word meaning ‘collecting straw’.

Concinnous: (kun-SIN-us) neat and elegant.

Criticaster (kri-ti-KAS-ter) a minor or incompetent critic. The ending –aster is used to form nouns referring to someone who is inept or unskillful in a certain sphere of activity, for example, poetaster, a poet who writes bad poetry, or medicaster, a person who falsely claims to have medical skill.

Croquembouche: (KRO-kum-boosh) a pyramid of pastries, usually cream-filled, covered with spun caramel. When used as a wedding cake, the bride and groom traditionally smash the hard caramel coating with a hammer. From a French word that means ‘crunches in the mouth.’

Dretch: an obsolete word meaning both ‘to trouble in sleep’ and ‘to be troubled in sleep’. It’s from an Old English word and is unknown in other Germanic languages. A citation from Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur reads “We alle … were soo dretched that somee of vs lepte oute of oure beddes naked.”

Dysteleology: (dis-tell-ee-AH-luh-djee) the study of the organs of plants and animals without admitting that there is any purpose to their design. The antonym is teleology, studying things with the idea that there is a purpose for everything.

Epinicion: (ep-ee-NEE-see-un) a song sung in honor of the winner of the games, or a song of triumph.

Erubescent: (err-oo-BESS-unht) a rare adjective meaning ‘reddening or blushing’. It is based on a Latin verb meaning ‘to be red.’ A related word in English is rubicund, an adjective which refers to a ruddy or high-colored facial complexion.

Excarnation: the separation of the soul from the body.

Finifugal: (fye-NIF-yoo-gul) an adjective meaning ‘shunning the end (of anything).’

Gleed: a live coal, or beam of light. This word was used in a few equally obsolete similies, such as ‘red as a gleed’, ‘fierce as a gleed’, and ‘to burn as a gleed.’

Hamartiology: the study of sin.

Hierodule: (HYE-er-uh-dyool) a slave who lives in a temple and is dedicated to the service of a god. Heiro- is a Greek root meaning holy.

Houghmagandy: (hahk-muh-GAN-dee) sexual intercourse with a person one is not married to. A rare word, it is found mainly in Scottish writing of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, though it also appears in Nabokov’s Pale Fire: “She would have preferred him to have gone through a bit of wholesome houghmagande with the wench.”

Iconolagnia: to be sexually aroused, like Pygmalion, only by an image of your own making.

Leguleian: (leg-yoo-LEE-an) an adjective meaning ‘pertaining to petty or unimportant questions of law.’

Loranthaceous: (lor-un-THAY-shus) a botanical adjective that means ‘related to the mistletoe family.’ This word fills a gap to describe kisses given (or received) in unusual circumstances, such as under the mistletoe.

Morology: the study of fools.

Mouton Enrage: (moo-tahn-ahn-rah-ZHAY) literally, ‘made sheep.’ A term for an angry person who is usally calm.

Neoteny: (nee-AH-tuh-nee) the preservation of juvenile characteristics well into maturity, especially where these characteristics are attractive.

Nieflings: plural or niece and/or nephew.

Omophagy: (oh-MAH-fuh-jee) the eating of raw food, especially meat. The word was originally used in reference to feasts for the Greek god Bacchus, at which raw flesh was eaten.

Pseudogeusia: (soo-duh-GYOO-shuh) the OED gives this as ‘a false or perverted sense of taste.’

Sardanapalian: (shard-nuh-PAY-lee-un) an adjective meaning ‘luxuriously effeminate.’ From the name of Sardanapalus, the last king of Nineveh, who was supposed to have lived in outrageous luxury. Besieged by the Medes for two years, his favorite concubine induced him to put himself on a funeral pyre. She set fire to it herself and it consumed the palace and his entire court. The legend of Sardanapalus cannot be connected with any Assyrian king know through archaeology.

Scopperil: (SKOP-uh-ril) a hyperactive child, or a squirrel. From another use of the word to mean ‘a kind of spinning top.’

Stenotopic: (sten-uh-TOP-ik) an adjective meaning ‘able to tolerate only a restricted range of ecological conditions or habitats.’ So your relative who must have the window open exactly five inches and who cannot eat anything but plain chicken breast and steamed broccoli? Stenotopic.

Tristichous: (TRIS-ti-kus) arranged in three rows or ranks. A tristich is a stanza of three lines; a distich is a couplet. They all come from a Greek word meaning ‘row’.

Volpone: (vahl-POH-nee) a cunning schemer, a miser. From the name of the main character in Jonson’s play, in which Volpone himself says “what a rare punishment/is avarice to itself.” Volpone is an Italian word for ‘fox’.

Wag-at-the-wall: a ghost that haunts the kitchen and moves backwards and forwards before the death of one of the family.