“I have always found the atmosphere of Twelfth Night a bit whiffy.”
That hasn’t been my
experience. I think of Twelfth Night as second- or third-tier Shakespeare,
enjoyable, often linguistically interesting, occasionally amusing but a
universe away from Lear. The judgment above is Auden’s in “Music in
Shakespeare” (The Dyer’s Hand, 1962). In his Lectures on Shakespeare
(2000), Auden writes: “The society in Twelfth Night is beginning to
smell gamey.”
Auden seems fixated on stink.
The OED tells us whiffy means “having an unpleasant smell” and
cites Auden’s usage, as well as Melville’s in Mardi: “A pithy, whiffy
sentence or two.” Think of our synonyms for foul-smelling: stinky, mephitic,
funky, malodorous, reeking, rank, smelly, fetid,
frowsty. Odoriferous originally meant pleasant-smelling but has evolved
to mean “strong-smelling; odorous.”
More than thirty years ago
I wrote a newspaper feature story about jobs in which workers had to deal with
foul odors, including garbage collectors. This was before emptying trash bins
had been automated. I rode midsummer on the back of a truck with the crew and
noticed that a steady stream of fluid leaked from under the compactor compartment
at the rear onto the pavement. In my story I described it as “noisome brown
juice,” and the copy editor loved that.
Joyce in Ulysses
reminds us of the interrelatedness of taste and smell: “Mr Leopold Bloom ate
with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls. He liked thick giblet soup,
nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liverslices fried with crustcrumbs,
fried hencods’ roes. Most of all he liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to
his palate a fine tang of faintly scented urine.”
Yiddish, predictably, has
the most evocative adjective for a bad smell: farshtunken. And I see there's even a Farshtunken Sandwich: three kinds of herring and raw red onion on
a buttered bagel.
No comments:
Post a Comment