Experiments in Style: two more transformations

Constant repetition; definitional literature

Introduction

One of the things I’ve been trying out is reworking a piece of text into a completely different style. A full exposition and explanation are given here:

Experimenting with styles

In today’s two experiments I’d like to try out a version in which the narrator constantly repeats themselves, and a version that relies on the Oulipian approach known as ‘definitional literature’. I think — I hope — you will find these versions both entertaining and informative.

A good question to ask, I think, is how does the completely different style affect the tone of the story?

Another question might be: at what point does changing the style affect not only the tone, but also the factuality of the piece? After all, I had to fictionalise the (true) story in order to fit into a rhyming couplets version and again for a blues version.

Finally — and I ask myself this question too — is all this only fun, or can it also be useful as a way of flexing one’s writing muscles, and developing one’s skills in a different direction? I fall on the side of the latter myself.

But with no further ado, here is the original text on which these experiments or transformations are based, to save you from having to go backwards and forwards through this newsletter’s archives:

The original (template) text: A bang on the head

In the middle of the night, I woke up (if you can call being semi-conscious being awake), walked purposefully towards the door to go to the bathroom — and almost knocked myself out.

The reason was that in the twin states of entire darkness and semi-somnambulance I was facing in a different direction from the one I thought I was facing. As a result, instead of walking through the door, I tried to walk through the wall.

The next few days brought nausea and headaches. After much prevarication I went to Accident and Emergency, where I waited petrified among people for whom “social distancing” means not quite touching you, and who wore their masks as a chin-warmer.

An hour and a half later I emerged into the twilight, secure in the knowledge that I had nothing more serious than mild concussion. I failed to do much writing, but I was pleased to have read a further 17% of my book.

A bang on the head, in the style of someone who constantly repeats themselves and clarifies

Have you ever met such people? You know, the ones who tell you something and then repeat it and repeat it in slightly different ways. I have, and quite frankly it drives me nuts. In this version of the story, I take that verbal habit to the extreme. Enjoy! (I think.)

In the middle of the night — well, early morning really; not like six, more like two or three I suppose. Anyway, it was pretty late and I woke up (if you can call being semi-conscious being awake — I mean obviously I was awake, because I don’t walk in my sleep as far as I know, or at least, nobody has told me I do, and obviously I wouldn’t know myself because, well, I’d be asleep.). Anyway, I walked purposefully — well, “strode” is probably a better word; I mean, I wasn’t just ambling or shuffling but almost marching — well, not marching exactly, I mean I didn’t have the swinging arms and upright bearing of a military person, more a sort of Neanderthal semi-crawling, except a bit more dynamic than that — towards the door to go to the bathroom (I wasn’t intending to have a bath, don’t get me wrong: I’d already had a shower. Look, I needed the loo, but was trying to be more euphemistic) — and almost knocked myself out. I say “almost”: I didn’t see stars or blackout or need to lie down, and I didn’t have an EEG machine handy to check whether I really had almost lost consciousness, I’m just describing the way I think that almost losing consciousness would probably feel.

The reason was that in the twin states of entire darkness and semi-somnambulance I was facing in a different direction from the one I thought I was facing. I usually have a good sense of direction, especially in my own bedroom — I mean, I’ve been sleeping in it for years. Not continuously, obviously, but when I go to bed at night. As a result (not of sleeping in my bedroom for years, but of temporarily losing my sense of direction; well, I suppose it was a case of being disoriented rather than lost, after all, how can you get lost in your own bedroom, especially if you’ve been sleeping in it for years?) instead of walking through the door, I tried to walk through the wall. I don’t mean I thought to myself, “I think I’ll try and walk through the wall.” I’ve heard stories of Eastern mystics who are so enlightened that they can walk through walls, but I’m not so daft as to think that would be possible for me — not even when I’m half-asleep.

The next few days brought nausea and headaches. Well, I don’t know if the nausea and headaches were a direct result of banging my head. Maybe I’d eaten something that didn’t agree with me, or was so worried about having possibly damaged myself that I caused the nausea and headaches myself somehow. After much prevarication (I kept humming and hawing, and changing my mind, and dithering, and putting off seeking medical advice) I went to Accident and Emergency (I didn’t think it was an emergency, but that’s what the unit is called), where I waited petrified (and I don’t scare easily, but we’re right in the middle of a pandemic and where I live is, or was (I think it’s eased up a bit now) one of the epicentres of this thing, so it’s not surprising that I was terrified of catching it, anyone would be) among people for whom “social distancing” means not quite touching you (it is supposed to mean six metres apart, or is it eight? Whatever it is, it’s a bit more than right next to you), and who wore their masks as a chin-warmer. (I don’t suppose they thought, as they were going out, “My chin is a bit cold; I know, I’ll wear a mask on it.” It was more a case of them not wearing it properly, meaning covering their nose and mouth — although I suppose it’s possible that all of them breathe through their chin; maybe that is even the reason they were visiting the hospital.)

An hour and a half later — well, I didn’t make a point of looking at my watch, and I didn’t use a stopwatch or anything; that is just a rough estimate — I emerged into the twilight (to be more precise, it was just starting to get dark), secure in the knowledge that I had nothing more serious than mild concussion (at least, that is what the doctor said, and she seemed to know what she was doing. She made me push her away, and pull her towards me and shone a torch in my eyes, and asked me a load of questions, and then said “No permanent damage, just take it easy for a while, you have slight concussion). I failed to do much writing — I did a bit, but not really enough to be able to say “I’ve done some writing”, but I was pleased to have read a further 17% of my book. I know it was 17%, and not 16% or 18%, because I’d taken my Kindle with me and had been reading my book (I suppose it would be more accurate to say “ebook”, but anyway, it was a book) while waiting.

A bang on the head, written as definitional literature

One of the techniques of the Oulipo is definitional literature. Definitional literature is, as its name implies, a form of writing in which parts of speech are replaced by their definitions. See Definitional Literature for more information. Well, here goes:

A hit with a loud noise on the part of my body above my neck, containing my brain, eyes, nose and mouth

In the central part of the twenty four hour period when there is no sun, the subject of this article became conscious after sleeping (if you can give the term “conscious” to a state of being half-aware), moved by placing one foot in front of the other and then alternating which leg was in front, after making sure one foot was on the ground before lifting the other one up intentionally in the direction of the part of the room that opens and shuts onto the part of the house just outside it to travel to the room with a toilet, bath and shower — and nearly caused the subject of this article to lose consciousness.

The cause was that in the two conditions existing at the same time of complete absence of light and being half-asleep the subject of this article was positioned towards something different from that which he thought he was. As a result, instead of placing one foot in front of the other and then alternating which leg was in front, after making sure one foot was on the ground before lifting the other one up intentionally in the direction of the part of the room that opens and shuts onto the part of my house just outside it, the subject of this article tried to place one foot in front of the other and then alternate which leg was in front, after making sure one foot was on the ground before lifting the other one up intentionally in the direction of the part of the room that opens and shuts onto the part of my house just outside it, he placed one foot in front of the other and then alternate which leg was in front, after making sure one foot was on the ground before lifting the other one up intentionally in the direction of the vertical structure made of brick that separates the different areas of our house and also helps to keep the roof on.

The next few twenty four cycles brought sickness and pains in the part of the body above my neck containing my brain, eyes, nose and mouth. After much dilly-dallying the subject of this article went to the part of a hospital where people go when they are ill or injured and need treatment quickly, where the subject of this article remained inactive and scared stiff among human beings for whom allowing space between them is defined as not entirely coming into contact, and who had their face coverings on as something to heat up the bit of the lower part of their face that sticks out.

Ninety sixtieth parts of a section of time divided into sixty parts later, the subject of this article came into the part of the evening before it gets dark, safe in the awareness of the fact that he had nothing more grave than a slight traumatic brain injury. The subject of this article failed to do much composing of text, but the subject of this article was pleased to have looked at and understood a further 17% of the printed work belonging to the subject of this article consisting of pages and covers.

You might think this is a completely pointless exercise, but in doing it I discovered that sometimes I had used the same word (such as “I”) more than once in a sentence, a practice which I try to avoid. Thus the exercise showed some “clunkiness” in the original article that I hadn’t noticed before.

In addition, it showed that it was worth consulting more than one dictionary in order to find definitions which reflected my intended meaning. The dictionaries I used were the Cambridge online dictionary, the Online dictionary, and Chambers 1998 edition.

I hope you enjoyed these experiments. If so, please subscribe. If not, please subscribe anyway because I wrote about loads of other stuff too.