I Read The Longest Lipograms So You Don't Have To (1 of 4)
These works are impressive achievements. But how GOOD are they?
Lipograms have been around since the ancient Greeks. There are versions of the Iliad and Odyssey with a different Greek letter missing from each of the 24 books. There’s a centuries-old tradition of German works without “R” in them. Spanish playwright Lope De Vega Carpio wrote five novels, one excluding each vowel. Jacques Arago of France did a world travelogue that (mostly) skipped the letter A.
And in English? What are the best-known lipograms, and are they worth reading?
Casting around, I found twelve fairly long-form lipograms worth discussing. All of them were books, poems, or short stories. Lipograms in other media, like comics, TV, or movies, don’t seem to be a thing yet—with a couple of exceptions, but we’ll get to those.
For the next few days, I want to share my impressions of these works…I read them all, so you don’t have to! And I’ll build my way up to the ones I like best, which means starting…er…at the other end.
Initial Instructions by Rabbi Joseph H. Prouser.
Story: The book of Genesis, re-translated.
Lipogram: No E.
Why a Lipogram?: Rabbinical discipline through self-denial. And a nod to the ancient Hebrew, which used no vowels at all.
My Take: I do respect the idea of using a lipogram as a tool for self-discipline—but that benefited the rabbi more than it benefited me. I’d say you have to be into Genesis to enjoy this one…but I am into Genesis. I did another re-translation of Genesis myself, some years back. And even for me, this version was kind of a lot.
The Exeter Text: Jewels, Secrets, Sex by Georges Perec (translated by Ian Bond, originally Les Revenentes).
Story: A jewel heist in a cathedral succeeds thanks to a well-timed orgy. I think? It’s not as clear as it could be in spots.
Lipogram: E is the only vowel allowed, though many words are misspelled.
Why a Lipogram?: Perec has another famous lipogram where the absence has more symbolic weight. But here? I think he’s just having fun.
My Take: I tried so hard to like this one. I really, really did. I love Perec’s ideas, and I’ve got no issue with R-rated stories. But…
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Some readers say the misspellings are part of the fun. For me, they’re kind of a cheat and start getting on my nerves after a bit. I’d excuse them by saying maybe it’s impossible to write a story that uses no vowel but e, but Christian Bök’s Eunoia has a section that does just that.
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Despite being loaded with pulpy, fun elements—jewels, secrets, and sex, plus violence and political intrigue—the story doesn’t have enough connective tissue. It just bumbles from one element to another, as if it were written by a drunken Jack Kerouac with a broken typewriter.
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A caveat: I read the English translation. It’s been too long since my high-school French class for me to tell you how good the original is—but it’s got the same sort of misspellings.
Twenty-Six Degrees by Rebeccah Giltrow.
Story: “Stories,” actually. Twenty-six people each get a short story, and their lives interconnect in various ways.
Lipogram: Each story lacks a different letter.
Why a Lipogram?: Giltrow does it to show her characters’ limitations, as she explains in the afterword. “Maxwell has to speak in the present tense because he doesn’t have use of the letter D, and talking about herself is impossible for Beth without the letter I. Zoe can’t question anyone, Larry can’t thank anyone, Charlie can’t love anyone.”
My Take: The Exeter Texts took the gimmick too far. Giltrow doesn’t take it far enough. Only a few letters in English are really noticeable by their absence. It’s pretty easy to write a story without q or z or even r or l. Even in the more challenging lipograms, the absences go mostly unnoticed. But if the reader can’t tell whether the gimmick is there, is it really there?
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My main issue, though, was the limits of Giltrow’s own perspective. As I finished the third story of twenty-six, I realized I’d already seen two pointless deaths and met two sex criminals. I won’t say there are no uplifting moments in the world of connections Giltrow builds—her finale is a funny, charming conversation between a college boy and his mum—but overall, there’s too much brutality for these twenty-six tales to feel like a fair sampling of humanity. And if representing humanity isn’t the point of a collection like this, then what is?
Tomorrow: Better examples. Fewer face-stabbings.