"There Was an Old Man . . .":The Sense of Nonsense Verse Joyce Thomas Quite literally, nonsense verse does not make sense; and in that way, it is different from any verse that does retain a heavy dose of recognizable sense. Even Edward Lear, that master of nonsense, was not writing true nonsense when he penned, There was an Old Man with a beard, Who said, "It is just as I feared!—Two Owls and a Hen, four Larks and a Wren, Have all built their nests in my beard!" Granted, the Old Man's predicament is absurd, but, like the word "nonsense" itself, its base is squarely situated in sense: we recognize that full, bushy growth of beard; we recognize those eight, named, real birds. Logic, which is the diametric pole of true nonsense, works to extend that base by means of exaggeration. The busy beard become an actual bush that houses nesting fowl. It is absurd, it is incredible, it is hirsute hyperbole; but it still makes sense. Had Lear placed the birds on the Old Man's tonsils or had he substituted for them nesting tangerines and chamber pots, his limerick might more aptly be tagged nonsense. Pure nonsense rejects sense. As much as is possible in this ultimately impossible enterprise, it nullifies sense. As the Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics suggests, the raison d'etre of pure nonsense is to create a completely different world, rather than merely distort or invert the familiar world. Inversion, distortion, exaggeration more properly belong to the sphere of the fantastic; in themselves they constitute logical processes, one dependent upon a recognition of what is "normal." In part, we appreciate and take pleasure in any nonsense construct (whether "pure" or quasi-nonsense) because we apprehend the normal and also apprehend the logical processes used to alter it to something momentarily abnormal, The moment of experienced nonsense is most often precisely that—a moment, a flickering, fluttering instant of disorientation during which the unfamiliar, the confusing, the chaotic reign. But almost as soon as that moment is sparked, it vanishes, for our rational minds immediately set about recasting nonsense back into sense. It is as if reason exerted a gravitational pull on nonsense's light verse, always seeking to draw it down and back to sense's solid earth, Thus, by virtue ofthat rational process it elicits in us, virtually all nonsense verse "makes" sense if we can succeed in returning to our known, apparently sensible world. Here, the sense in nonsense is already multiplied, for it exists not only in that return to the sensible, but also in our sensing (perceiving) the sense (logic) involved in the departure from the sensible; and, of course, we sense (appreciate) those creative machinations that have effected that departure. In contrast, the Princeton Encyclopedia suggests that the world of pure nonsense operates "according to its own laws and into which sane people can never really penetrate." It is nonsense when viewed from our "sane" world, and operates within its crazy-quilt boundaries on the basis of altogether different logic. If, as Robert Frost avowed, poetry is "a momentar stay against confusion," then pure nonsense dissolves that stay, and dives into confusion for its own sweet, swirling sake. It may even create its own language to help us break free of the sense inherent in our known language and grammar. Which brings us to the crux of the problem posed by allegedly pure nonsense: our minds and tongues are so grounded in our own language that it would seem impossible to ever free ourselves of it, impossible to ever create pure nonsense. Even "Jabberwocky," the most famous nonsense poem in the English language, is deeply rooted in sense. As John Ciardi notes, the entire poem satirizes common motifs of the folk ballad: motifs like the first stanza's "opening contest of dark forces" and overall depiction of a tested, triumphant hero (705). Lewis Carroll's actual nonsense lies in the nonsense words he creates, words like "brillig" and "toves." Yet even here that gravitational pull toward sense exerts itself. Any ten-year-old child with a background in our language, its grammar and punctuation, can decipher the...
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