The Porter Bureau

As one who hopes to teach literature at some point in my future, I am always on the lookout for examples of irony–a notoriously difficult concept to teach. Well, the good folks over at Fox news have done the high school English teachers of the world a favor and provided us the following gem:

What are some of your favorite examples of irony? Do please share.

The pumpkins are out on the front porch and the cold air drops orange hued leaves incessantly onto my driveway, so it must be getting close to Halloween. In the spirit of the season, let me invite you to share some of your favorite tales of the strange and terrible. Here, dusted off from the back shelf where the unsuspecting and innocent won’t accidentally peruse them, are some of mine.

The Masque of the Red Death
Of all Poe’s stories, I find The Masque of the Red Death most frightening. I’m not sure why, exactly, though I suspect it has to do with how the Prince and his fellow revelers are victims of their own making–the hedonists were the true sickness in the land, and thus had locked the Red Death in with them from the very beginning.

Young Goodman Brown
I recently picked up a collection of H.P. Lovecraft’s stories. The author of the introduction, correctly, compared Lovecraft to Poe. However, as I read Lovecraft’s stories, I feel like he is better compared to Hawthorne. Though Lovecraft shares Poe’s sense of the macabre, the way he uses place is to my mind more reflective of Hawthorne. Not simply because they both situate their stories in New England, but because the history of that place figures so prominently into ethos of their work.

Manfred
First, it’s by Byron. Second, it’s by Byron. And third, it’s by Byron. Seriously though, this is a great epic poem in the tradition of Marry Shelly’s Frankenstein. I particularly enjoy the strength of the title character, which is reflected in the way he stands firm against the spirits of the underworld (Act II, Scene 4). I also enjoy the exchange with the abbot (Act III, Scene 1)

The Philosophy of Composition
Though this is not a story, fans of the above (and Lovecraft) may find it a very interesting read. Poe was asked repeatedly to write an interpretation of his most famous work, The Raven. As an artist of quality, he bristled at this notion and instead wrote the following essay on the nature of writing, particularly horror writing. As I say above, fans of Lovecraft may find this essay particularly enlightening. Consider especially how Poe discusses the “effect.”

Here, in case you were wondering, are some of my favorite words:

Quintessence

Mostly because it’s used in my favorite line from Shakespeare (and thus all of literature): “And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?” “Quintessence of dust” to describe humanity–the man was a friggin (another favorite word) genius. We’re the very best, most refined dust, but lest we get full of ourselves… we’re still just dust.

But the reasons to love “quintessence” don’t stop there! Oh, no. Quintessence is a Latin word (with Greek roots) that means the fifth (quinta) essence. The fifth essence was an alchemist term that described the mythical “pure essence, substance of which the heavenly bodies are composed.” The other four essences (earth, fire, water, and air) were thought to have been derived from this original essence. Alchemists believed that if they could just refine any material down completely enough they would arrive at the fifth essence, and then be able to create any material they liked from it (i.e. gold). Quintessence’s current meaning, “the most perfect embodiment of something,” is beautifully derived from its alchemical past.

Luc Besson’s move The Fifth Element plays on the word quintessence and this whole alchemical tradition. In that movie it was suggested that the fifth element was love, a proposition I’m amenable to (another favorite word, though perhaps it scores too high on Cam’s pretentious meter). Sadly, however, the film was completely and irredeemably ruined by Chris Tucker… and Bruce’s hairdo.

Assuage

I like the way it sounds, and it’s also used in my favorite Emily Dickinson poem:

They say that “Time assuages” –
Time never did assuage –
An actual suffering strengthens
As Sinews do, with age –

Time is a Test of Trouble –
But not a Remedy –
If such it prove, it prove too
There was no Malady –

It’s not a very up-beat poem, but it is quintessentially Dickinson (snap!).

Zeitgeist

A German derived word that means the spirit of the time, literally. “Zeit” means “time,” and “geist” means “spirit” or “ghost.” Though I can’t for the life of me pronounce it properly, how can you not love a word with that kind of literality?