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Observations on Obscenities
THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE is blessed and enriched by a well known taboo vocabulary inherited from Anglo-Saxon with minor additions from Latin. It is all too obvious that this vocabulary is surfacing at an increasing rate and is now appearing freely in all literary forms. It began in novels, then in Broadway plays, slipped into the movies, and perhaps reaches its peak in Coffeehouse poetry.
Who has not forgotten the thrill of the spreading shock when Rhett Gable proclaimed, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”? As forgettable as that may have been, it heralded the doom of our taboo vocabulary.
We have now reached the point where I’m reasonably sure that Harper’s Magazine has an editor who checks a list to see that all our scanty fund of Anglo-Saxon expletives appear in each issue. I suspect that the major purpose is to prevent being outscored by Atlantic Monthly.
Of course, the novel, being more advanced, may contain little else in the dialog sections except an occasional he said. Poetry, the most condensed of all literary forms, omits the he said’s.
Foul language has always been a hard problem in books, in plays, in movies and now in poetry. In actual life, the spoken obscenity using the same Anglo-Saxon word may range anywhere from a mild, unemphatic, unnoticed addition to a sentence to the extremity of outrage depending upon the environment and circumstances. For example, the most foul language may be used by a soldier to his peers with an overall impact weaker than “Gosh.” This range seems impossible to duplicate in any literary form. There obscenity always has a fairly high shock factor, and thus one feels uncomfortable about it. The really foul language in novels first appeared in war novels after World War II; the prototype is The Naked and the Dead. The language may sound authentic to a civilian, but it does not seem right to a soldier – it’s much too strong.
Plays, where one might think success more probable, now use milder profanities with some semblance of normality. For the more serious words there is still the tooth-hurting attitude of “Here it comes” and “There, I said it right out loud up here in front of all these people.” Also there remains the viewpoint of the woman whom Damon Runyon quoted as saying, “If I wanted to hear that kind of talk, I’d stay home and listen to my husband.”
No writer has succeeded in capturing exactly the right tone for his obscene language, nor do I believe it can be done while any vestige of taboo remains. Admittedly, the constant use of obscenities will someday remove the unnatural feeling which now strikes the viewer or reader.
This brings me to my first serious argument against the continual use of foul language. The vocabulary of Anglo-Saxon words is pitifully small and their misuse is wasteful depletion of an international resource. Whooping cranes are numerous by comparison. Also, the taboo vocabulary has no protector except the Post Office Department and you know the old maxim: With such a friend, who needs enemies. Remember that the words are irreplaceable.
One definitely needs in time of stress to have something to say that is powerful and unusual enough to express his feelings. I have already pointed out that the soldier is bereft. It is literally impossible for him to swear effectively. The limit of his obscenity barely suffices as a polite request to his companions to pass him the butter at dinner. He has squandered his birthright, and so can we all. I have heard that the Japanese language is completely lacking in profanity and there is simply nothing to say when improper occasions arise. English could become so impoverished.
When a writer uses our taboo language explicitly he is robbing the reader of creative participation in the work and he may well be overlooking a valuable resource. We are all (except thee and me) so dirty minded that who knows what strength of language might be gained in such phrases as, “Obscenity in you mother’s milk.” It is entirely possible that the reader may have a greater depth of Spanish profanity than Hemingway, or in any case, the reader can adjust it to the level which pleases him.
Even more rewarding participation is possible in books which use dashed or hyphens for the missing letters if the reader is a dual expert in profanity and crossword puzzles. If you think Tristam Shandy’s father’s ejaculation, “Good G–!” is obvious, it probably simply means that you are weak in one or both of the above fields of learning.
Marshall McLuhan claims that our involvement with TV is achieved because the poor picture definition demands the viewers’ participation to fill in the missing details. If that is so, a return to dashes and hyphens might be a telling blow for literacy.
Reading aloud as a family recreation has, fortunately, passed quietly away. Otherwise among modern books and magazines we would be restricted to Dr. Seuss and The Reader’s Digest. (If The Reader’s Digest has taken to digesting obscenities, kindly refrain from disillusioning me.) Of course, Dr. Seuss’s books might be even greater stimuli to learning to read if they contained some of the four-letter words which have such appeal to little boys and girls. Or greater “relevance” could be gained by their use in the not entirely entrancing primers. Just imagine: (Remember what I said about thee and me.)
—- Jane —-.
See Spot —-.
In general, one can learn a foreign language from books and never have to worry about learning taboo words. The point is that if you learn a taboo word you are almost sure to use it when you don’t mean to because you are faced with such problems as, “Is it i-e that makes the word obscene or is it e-i? It’s very like knowing twins, you can tell them apart but you can’t remember which is which.
Anyway, our books have become dangerous for foreigners as illustrated by eavesdropping in a waiting room:
“Do you know what this word means?” asked a young lady in a very strong foreign accent.
Her much younger companion looked at the book where the young lady was pointing and finally said, “Well, without the i-n-g, I think it’s a dirty word.”
“What does it mean without the i-n-g?”
“I think it means h-e-double l.”
Our taboo language has status connotations. In Strike Out Where Not Applicable by Nicholas Freeling a man complains to himself that the police are persecuting him and that it is unfair to “…drag out into the light that he’d been born in a slum in Rotterdam and had never learned to talk English properly. He knew dirty words in English!”
It is probably much too late to heed to following advice given by Deacon Ephraim Stebbins:
Unabridged dictionaries are dangerous books. In their pages man’s evilest thoughts find means of expression. Terms denoting all that is foul or blasphemous or obscene are printed there for men, women and children to read and ponder. Such books should have their covers padlocked and be chained to reading desks, in the custody of responsible librarians, preferably church members in good standing. Permission to open such books should be granted only after careful inquiry as to which word a reader plans to look up, and how he plans to use it.
Our taboo vocabulary has, of course, always been used in the courts when it was necessary to deal with exactly what was said. The Louisville Courier-Journal reprinted the Commission report on the Chicago convention riots. Here, simply to be factual, it was necessary to print the actual words used in the confrontations. The Courier-Journal was the only paper in America to do this, and the paper was roundly criticized for using such language. Yet there seems to be no objection to the use of these same words, often quite unnecessarily, in our fiction and better magazine articles. Such is the paradox of taboo.
From The Boxwood Press Cookbook:
Strawberry Waffle
Per serving:
1 large waffle
1 10-ounce package frozen strawberries or fresh equivalent
Whipped cream
Dump strawberries on the large, crisp waffle. Top with whipped cream. Enjoy.
The strawberry waffle is the sole benefit I derived from the New York World Fair. Ubiquitously featured at the Fair was a cloying mess by the same name which consisted of strawberry preserves on a leathery waffle. This horror can be transformed into a gourmand’s delight by the substitution of fresh fruit and a decent waffle.
Printed by Jacob L. & David L. Warner at their private press.
Greenbelt, Maryland 20770