Experiments in style: Antonymic translation

or: the opposite is true (or not)

Greetings!

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

The aim of these experiments is to explore how different styles and approaches can affect the tone of a story. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Here is the original text on which these experiments or transformations are based:

The original (template) text

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.

Antonymic translation

For today’s experiment I wrote the story in the form of an antonymic translation. This is an Oulipian technique whereby each important word, such as noun, verb, adjective, adverb, is replaced by one of its antonyms. The result, as you’ll see below, is quite bonkers, though it does have a certain je ne sais quois I think. But what do YOU think? Do let me know in the comments.

In the periphery of the day, I slept soundly (if you can call being fully alert being asleep), crawled aimlessly away from the window to avoid the living room — and barely grazed myself.

The reason was that in the single states of partial light and full wakefulness I was not facing in the same direction from the one I thought I wasn't facing. As a consequence, instead of not walking to the bathroom, I didn’t walk towards the wall.

The previous few hours brought comfort and euphoria. Without hesitation I stayed at home and did not go to On Purpose and Non-emergency, where I waited confidently apart from people for whom "social gathering" means completely touching you, and who removed their masks as a forehead-cooler.

A minute and a quarter earlier I remained inside and did not go out, insecure in the ignorance that I had everything less trivial than severe health. I succeeded in doing no writing, but I was displeased to have read 83% of my magazine.

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I hope you have enjoyed this version of the story. Comments are welcomed, as always.

If you’re new to the series, you can see the index of my experiments here: Index.

Thank you for reading!