OuLiPo, Workshop of Potential Literature by Lorraine Cappoccia

OULIPO, WORKSHOP OF POTENTIAL

LITERATURE

by Lorraine Cappoccia

The power of words can be immense and when put together to create a piece of literature, the effects can be immeasurable. As such, the creation of a literary piece and the talents of its creator deserve respect and admiration. Literature can take on many forms, prose or verse as well as a variety of genres such as crime fiction, young adult fiction or science fiction, which are just a very few. Writers often follow rules or guidelines, for example defined by an editor, or possibly in order to complete a piece of work, and sometimes even rules a writer has imposed on themselves. In view of this fact, this assignment will focus on rules and constraints within literature, based on the particular methods adopted by a group known as the Oulipo, who offered new techniques for creating literary works. The Oulipo was a group who followed self-imposed rules or constraints in the hope of creating new material. A brief history of the Oulipo is to follow, as well as a comparison of two novels written with the application of one of the Oulipian rules. The two novels are Oulipian member, Georges Perec’s A Void, originally published in France in 1969 and later translated into English in 1994, and predating Perec and in fact the Oulipo, Ernest Vincent Wright’s Gadsby: A Lipogram Novel, originally written in 1939. The rule will be the use of the technique known as a lipogram. The rule and constraint of a lipogram is to create a piece of work with the omission of a particular letter of the alphabet. On looking at these works, this assignment seeks to find how such an imposed rule and constraint affects the delivery of the work, in parts or as a whole. As an alternative comparison, co-founder of the Oulipo Raymond Queneau’s Exercises in Style (2009) offers a wider ranging example of Oulipian work, in which different rules are applied to one story, which is

then retold in many different styles, without losing its meaning. Finally, bringing the Oulipo into the present day, it will be considered as to whether any form of Oulipian method or interest still exists.

It is anticipated that greater knowledge of the Oulipo and their methods will create subsequent explorations of creative literary activities and continued admiration for the art of literature. As Elkin and Esposito succinctly state, ‘A love of literature is a lifelong project of constant exploration’ and the work of the Oulipo certainly sustains this. The ‘Ouvroir de Littérature Potentielle’ or ‘Oulipo’ as it would become known, was founded by Raymond Queneau and François Le Lionnais in November 1960. It translates as a workshop of potential literature, focusing on the notion of ‘potential’. As a result of the complexity of the history of the Oulipo, it would not be possible to present all of their history accurately within this essay. Therefore, in order to avoid undermining or misrepresenting all they stood for, the focus here will shortly refer to Queneau’s Cent Mille Milliards de Poèmes, considered ‘the seminal Oulipian text’ and the mathematical concept this represented, which is one of the elements found in Oulipian methods.

The Oulipo began as a group of ten members, from a background of various disciplines, including writers, mathematicians and University professors. Despite their different disciplines, they all shared similar ideas and wished to create something new, sometimes from the exploration of an existing piece. This is immediately clear from the construction of the group’s name; each two letters of Oulipo are taken from each of the three words in its full title. The Oulipo’s potentiality came from the creation of work by members of the group, which they considered had the potential to become literature. Their aim was to look for new ways of writing that could be adapted to meet the needs or wishes of any writer, as Queneau explained, the Oulipo’s work was “the search for new forms and structures that may be used by writers in any way they see fit.”

Queneau explained the aim of the Oulipo’s work was to ‘propose new “structures” … mathematical in nature … contribute to literary activity: props for inspiration as it were, or rather, in a way, aids for creativity.’ Mathematics is not a discipline normally associated with literature – one being concerned with numbers and the other with letters – so the suggestion of literature being approached mathematically is interesting. This appears to have begun with Queneau’s Cent Mille Milliards de Poèmes, translated as One Hundred Thousand Billion Poems, and this was deduced

from the manner in which the work could be read. As a book, it contained ten sonnets, each with the traditional fourteen lines, with each page cut into each of the fourteen lines. This allowed for selection and movement of each line to make a different combination, thus creating a new sonnet. What develops here is a mathematical approach to this book of poems and subsequently, the number of possible combinations gives the book its title. Mathematicians would call this combinatory; combining different lines to create something new. Though not originally conceived to be presented via a computer medium, the work can now more easily be grasped through various online presentations. Although not self-selected by a reader as would presumably happen with a physical copy of the book, it is still representative of the potential of being able to create an alternative arrangement of sonnet, as the quintessential idea that emerges from the existence of Queneau’s poem is the very essence of potentiality and thus the Oulipo’s intentions. Each combination of fourteen lines has the potential to become a sonnet, but due to the magnitude of poems that can be created within the book, it would be practically impossible to read all of them. As Queneau stated, for even the most avid readers of poetry, ‘it would take more than a million centuries to finish the text.’

With regard to the mathematical element of the Oulipo, Queneau stated a poet is ‘obliged to count up to twelve in order to compose an alexandrine.’ Many forms of poetry conform by containing a specific number of lines or rules and are recognised as such, including sonnets, pentameters, haiku and limericks. The initial comparison between mathematics and literature is the application of rules in order for them to work. As with mathematics, there is generally a rule in order for an equation to be explained and solved. Queneau was in fact well educated in mathematics; as Le Lionnais explained, he ‘never ceased to increase and extend his knowledge.’ Queneau’s interest in numbers even governed the way he formatted his work, which is shown in great detail in relation to the creation of chapters for Le Chiendent. Queneau stated:

‘It was intolerable to me to leave to chance the number of chapters in these novels. Thus, Le Chiendent is composed of 91 (7 x 13) sections, 91 being the sum of the first thirteen numbers and its ‘sum’ being 1, … At that time, I saw in 13 a beneficent number.’

The indicates how Queneau considered mathematics to play a big part in the creation of his literary works, once again reinforcing some of the complexities of the Oulipo’s work as well as its potentiality.

Moving away from the Oulipo’s mathematical element, attention now turns to another branch of Oulipian work, the lipogram, which is a practice of writing with the omission of one or more letters of the alphabet. Georges Perec’s attempt to trace the history of the lipogram encountered difficulties as some texts appeared contradictory in conformity or no longer existed: ‘The history of the lipogram is difficult to reconstitute … sources are disparate and dispersed; numerous works have disappeared or are unlocatable for an amateur researcher’. It is interesting to note here Perec’s choice of words, referring to himself as an amateur researcher, despite his employment as a research librarian. This possibly suggests the Oulipo did not take themselves too seriously and, as Queneau described them, in his opinion they were naïve, craftsmanlike and amusing. The suggestion of amusement will be touched upon later, when looking at some of Queneau’s work.

From his research, Perec suggests three traditions of the lipogram. First, from the sixth century, with De Aetatibus Mundi & Hominis which has 23 chapters, each omitting a letter in order of the alphabet, Chapter One without A, Chapter Two without B, and so on. Second, was the application of omitting the letter R, or ‘the non-letter’, as considered by writers of German and Italian lipograms. Third, Perec introduces the vocalic tradition, avoiding the use of vowels. The letter E is one of the most commonly used letters and in Queneau’s mathematical manner, Perec calculated an equation measuring the difficulty of writing without a specified letter. Based on a text of 100 words, omitting W results in a difficulty of 0.02, as it is not a common letter. Omitting E however, produces a difficulty of 0.13. Applying this to the creation of a novel without an E increases the difficulty enormously. Perec recognises such difficulties, stating ‘writing without the A is simple in French, perilous in Spanish; it’s the contrary for the E.’ How then did Perec write a whole novel without an E? It would appear difficult enough in French, but its English translation, which will now be assessed, is also without an E. Motte describes ‘the notion of literary madness’ which was applied to members of the Oulipo or anybody writing in such a constrained manner, in order to preserve those works classed as the canon, possibly to keep Oulipian work out of it. But when asked about madness in the process of writing, Perec stated that he didn’t have ‘the

impression that he was doing anything “madder” than, quite simply, writing.’ We will now refer to his 1969 novel, A Void, alongside Wright’s Gadsby, written some thirty years earlier.

Translated to English in 1994, A Void is a detective story about Anton Vowl who has disappeared and whose friends set out to find him. The novel contains no letter E and when reading it, the omission is not apparent, though an initial clue is given in the protagonist’s surname, Vowl, a play on the word vowel. Wright’s Gadsby, a novel recounting John Gadsby’s mission to return Branton Hills into a thriving area, also omits the letter E, but this fact is highlighted from the outset, as the cover clearly states, ‘50,000 word novel without the letter “E”’.

Both novels are similar in conforming to a rule or constraint and both were created under similar circumstances, in that it was not believed it could be done, so both writers wanted to prove it could. Perec speaks of this in his postscript, also written without an E. He states how difficult it was at times, but this difficulty spurred him on to ensure the creation came to fruition. ‘I stuck to my guns … finding that it took my imagination down so many intriguing linguistic highways and byways, I couldn’t stop thinking about it,’ and he continues to say, ‘So was born, word by word … a book that, … I instantly found thoroughly satisfying.’ Wright’s enthusiasm for Gadsby was spurred on in much the same way, which he explains in his Introduction. Although the Introduction does contain the letter E, he states this does not count towards the novel, as an Introduction is an author’s prerogative, ‘The author is entitled to it, in order properly to explain his work.’

Looking into the semantics of the novels more closely, whilst the flow of the stories is not hindered as a result of the omission, the styles do vary. Perec’s sentences often appear noticeably long, possibly relying too heavily on commas and being slightly over-explanatory or descriptive, although this could simply be Perec’s style of writing. Wright’s novel however, does not appear to present this issue, making the reading of it more fluid and somewhat more effective. More distinctly, Wright followed his constraint explicitly, in that he would not use numbers in their digital form, if their spelling included an E, for example, 25, (twenty-five) although Perec did use numbers this way. Further, Wright would not use abbreviations such as, Mr. and Mrs. because ‘if read aloud, plainly indicate the E in their orthography.’ Perec did not observe this and frequently used abbreviations throughout his

novel such as (in English translation) HQ for Head Quarters, PM for Prime Minister and more obviously, using ABC in place of alphabet. One view of this could be the constraint is not to use the letter directly in a word; this is in any case a matter of the author’s discretion as to how precisely he wishes to be constrained in his writing. In its more rigorous exclusion of the letter E, Wright’s might be judged as the more successful lipogrammatic novel, but in both works to write in this way is very skilful, and as both writers explained it took time and much concentration in creating these pieces, searching for alternative words whilst retaining meaning.

Perec’s playful style in his novel, even respectfully disguising Wright as a character named ‘Lord Gadsby V. Wright’ and also fellow Oulipian member Raymond Queneau as ‘Raymond Q. Knowall’, could be testament to the playful nature of the Oulipo in terms of word games. As Perec stated, ‘Not only did I spin out a fairly straightforward story but I had a lot of fun with it’. Amusement has already been mentioned in Queneau’s explanation of what he felt the Oulipo was, and this can now be seen in his Exercises in Style. This book, written in 1947 and first translated into English in 1979, has ninety-nine versions of the same, simple story, altered according to literary techniques and styles. This expresses the versatility of language and the potential to create something new, the very essence of the Oulipo. The story is retold in many styles, including a sonnet, spoonerisms, reported speech, and Cockney speech. The craftsmanship of creating such a variety of texts from one simple story is very clever. Another amusing text written by Queneau is A Story as You Like It which works on the basis of computer instructions, whereby the reader is given a list of numbered sentences and according to which type of story the reader would like to hear, they would be pointed to the corresponding number of the sentence:

1. Do you wish to hear the story of the three alert peas? if yes, go to 4 | if no, go to 2 … 2. Would you prefer the story of the three middling mediocre bushes? if yes, go to 17 | if no, go to 21 … 21. In this case, the story is likewise finished.

This again shows the humour and versatility of writers and represents the kind of literature that can be produced under a rule or constraint.

How then have rules or constraints affected the literature looked at

here? Perec suggests the need for, ‘An appreciation of the nuance between “one affects” and “one compels oneself ”. It seems that to follow a rule appears easy, but to be told of a constraint, one often feels the need to rebel against this, despite the two being quite similar. As Marcel Bénabou explains, ‘people accept the rule, they tolerate technique, but they refuse constraint. Precisely because it seems like an unnecessary rule … exaggerative and excessive.’ Wright explained he tied down the letter E on his keyboard ‘thus making it impossible for that letter to be printed. This was done so that none of that vowel might slip in, accidentally; and many did try to do so!’ This presents a challenge and once complete, must be extremely satisfying, as Bénabou continues to say: ‘This paradoxical effect of constraint, which, rather than stifling the imagination, serves to awaken it,’ opening up the possibilities, or potential, of creation.

Since the Oulipo began in 1960, they have sought to explore and create through language and words with the application of mathematical concepts, which are at the heart of their work; ‘to formulate problems and eventually to offer solutions that allow any and everybody to construct, letter by letter, word by word, a text.’ So are any of these methods still in practice today? We have already seen Queneau refer to the work of the Oulipo as amusing and he stands by this, stating ‘Surely, certain of our labors may appear to be mere pleasantries, or simple witticisms, analogous to certain parlor games. Let us remember … the theory of numbers sprang in part from that which used to be called “mathematical entertainments”, “recreational mathematics,”’ and so the Oulipo’s work could be compared loosely with contemporary examples such as popular board games like Scrabble or Boggle. Each of these have rules and constraints and could have Oulipian principles applied to them. Yet for a more academic conclusion, there is proof that their work can also be seen in educational practices as a way of understanding language, on writing courses. Testament to the Oulipo’s popularity and validity, ‘The group remains a celebrated part of French culture, with regular events and workshops.’ Further proof of the Oulipo’s methods still in existence can be found at the University of Rochester in New York, where in 2007 a group formed for people interested in modern and contemporary international literature. There is a blog on their website entitled Words Without Borders: The Oulipo Issue ‘for people who like a little constraint with their writing’. It may remain then, that the Oulipo carved their way into the literary canon despite much resistance and their work is

still popular and accessible today. This could potentially lead to a continued variety within literature and open up many possibilities for those wishing to be creative and follow in the footsteps of the greats that have gone before. As Motte states, at the heart of the Oulipo, ‘is the belief that play is central to literature and, in a broader sense, to the aesthetic experience; in this, Oulipians fervently concur with Johan Huizinga, who asserted that “all poetry is born of play.”’ As we have seen, from humble beginnings as a research group, playing with words and letters, came published and acknowledged, exemplary writers, who are still read today.

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CONTEMPORARY POETRY: THEORY AND PRACTICE