Today or tomorrow, I'll be uploading to Amazon (Kindle Direct Publishing) my latest collection of Daily Doggerel (see probable cover design above). These are pieces that I published on Facebook and/or on my other blog--Daily Doggerel. I'll charge the least that Amazon allows ($2.99), and of course you know that you'll be getting exactly as much as you paid for!
Here's my most recent draft of the foreword--and I will let you know when it's actually up on the Amazon site.
Foreword
Hamlet, feigning
madness (or maybe not), has a well-known encounter fairly early in the play with
Polonius. This man, the worried father of Ophelia (Hamlet’s lover-who’ll-later-drown-herself),
encounters Hamlet—his clothing all awry, his manner distracted—apparently reading
a book. Here’s a portion of their exchange:
Hamlet: Words, words, words.
Hamlet:
Between who?
And on they go for
a while, Hamlet waxing ever more strange (and insulting), Polonius waxing ever
more puzzled.
Okay, I have very
little in common with Shakespeare: He’s dead; I’m not; he had twins; I didn’t;
nobody really knows what he looked like; I live in the Age of the Selfie; he’s
a great poet; I’m not.
But he loved
words; so do I. Many words now appear in English dictionaries because the Bard
was the first to use them in print. In his wonderful book “Think on My Words”: Exploring Shakespeare’s Language (2008), David
Crystal—perhaps the authority on the
language of the Bard—estimates that he “invented” about 1700 words—assassination and outswear among them.[i]
We also still
employ so many of the expressions that first fell from the mouths of his
characters—fool’s paradise, sea change, salad days, primrose path,
and the like. Shakespeare also liked to make fun of people who had trouble with
language. Think of Dogberry in Much Ado
About Nothing—one of the best examples. There’s hardly a word he can use correctly. Instructing
his fellow night-watchmen, Dogberry says,
You shall
also make no noise in the streets; for, for the watch to babble and to talk is most tolerable and not to be endured (3.3).
In this current
collection of my doggerel (which, in fairness, I should have dedicated to
Dogberry instead of to my ninety-six-year-old mother) I have written about two
different sorts of words—what I term twaddle
(silly or tedious talk or writing)—words and expressions that are common
nowadays but nonetheless ugly (in my eyes and ears). Jargon. Cant.
Educationese. Bureaucratese.
A second section
here deals with clichés—expressions so worn and abused that I believe they have
really earned a permanent retirement. If not euthanasia.
Each of these two
sections contains about fifty little “poems”—lines that I posted each day on
Facebook and on my blog called (appropriately) Daily Doggerel (http://dailydoggerels.blogspot.com/).
The final section here comprises unrelated
verse—pieces I composed for various reasons. I saw some deer along the road—or
wild turkeys; I had a memory; I had a battle with a spider in the shower (he/she
lost); I learned about a recently discovered photograph of Billy the Kid. I
call these pieces “Desultory Doggerel”—pieces that well comply with the
definition of desultory: “digressing from or unconnected with the main subject; random.”
Let’s end with
Shakespeare, too. In The Taming of the Shrew,
the servant Grumio tells his master, Petruchio, about all the other servants who
have been awaiting his arrival back home: Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet you (4.1).
Yes, my poor
servants (these verses) are not dressed all that well; they’re not too refined.
But here they are, as they are, come to meet you. Be kind (Petruchio was not).
—Daniel Dyer,
November 28, 2015
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