This week: Epic and ode. One's a long poem and the other is...a long poem. We figure out which is which and why. Then, one more word that I had to fit in somewhere, a movie recommendation for fellow word-nerds, and, of course, all the usual footnotes. So, let's get to it.
Not to let anyone peek behind the curtain for too long but I've just come back from a three-day conference and boy are my arms tired. Especially because I didn't actually go anywhere for this conference, I just sat in my office chair for hours attending virtual seminars and panels via Zoom and boy is my ass tired. But, Zoom-fatigue aside, it would be more than fair to say that the conference was, wait for it, epic. Wait, what?
Ok, let's get to some definitions. Epic, as you probably know, can function as both noun and adjective and like any good adjective, it's had a number of uses over the years. We're going to disregard those for now and go straight for its oldest1 meaning, from Merriam-Webster:
a long narrative poem in elevated style recounting the deeds of a legendary or historical hero
Masterclass (dot com)2 expands on this simple definition with a list of nine components that comprise an epic, which include -
pitting the hero against gods and other supernatural foes,
being concerned about the future of civilization and whether it will last,
and being set outside living memory.
This is why, when we think of epics, we think of the Illiad and the Odyssey. Maybe the Tale of Gilgamesh or the Divine Comedy, or other classical works about heroes that have withstood the test of time3.
So, that's epic. But what about ode? If you're like me, the only response to ode in a game of word association is "to joy." And we're not alone. Not only is it one of the most famous pieces of classical music, its association with Christmas means it is one of the most widely referenced pop music needle drops in modern history4. But the question remains, what the hell is an ode anyway? Merriam-Webster again:
a lyric poem usually marked by exaltation of feeling and style, varying length of line, and complexity of stanza forms
Ah. Uhm. Yes, I see. And, uh, a lyric poem is? From ThoughtCo (dot com):
A lyric poem is short, highly musical verse that conveys powerful feelings.
And now we have enough to draw a distinct line between epic and ode. For one thing, it turns out that back in the beginning, when I said, "the other is...a long poem," I was wrong. Epics are long, incredibly so at times, but odes are not. And while epics might be full of joy and exultation, it's usually only after an enemy has been vanquished, which hits a bit different than an ode's pure happiness. Perhaps most importantly, an ode is a poem that can be set to music5 and while an epic can be set to music, it's more likely to be accompanied by music as in an opera or a drummed rhythm.
So, as we barrel headlong into the holiday season, you're now well-armed to recount the epic poem of your adventures against the frozen Turkeys of the far north and to sing odes of rapture once you've gotten them out of the oven and into your stomachs. Or something like that.
Stay curious,
J
And Now For Something Completely Different:
We're going to be leaving the world of poetry next week and there was one more word I wanted to write about but couldn't figure out a full-on essay about: enjambment. For those unfamiliar, the Oregon State Guide to Literary Terms6 gives us a good definition. Enjambment is:
is a poetic term for the continuation of a sentence or phrase from one line of poetry to the next
I love enjambment because it is the codification of rule-breaking. See, the French poets were frustrated with having to keep their meters, sorry mètres, confined to the standard formats and so they invented a term to make breaking the rule normal. When critics complained, they could just say, "Ah, no. That's enjambment. It is perfectly cromulent, mon ami."
Not to mention, just look at it. Look at that first m just sitting in front of the b, waiting for you to try to pronounce it like it's written. Such a good word for such a good concept.
Movie Night
I sat down and watched Martin Scorsese's 2011 film, Hugo, the other night. Set in 1931, the movie is about a young orphan with a gift for clockwork mechanics and the adventures he gets into as he solves the mystery of an automaton his father had left him. The movie is also a love letter from Scorsese to the history of film and it's gorgeous, fun, and generally, a delight to watch.
What caught my attention for this column, though, was that the two principal characters, played by a very young Asa Butterfield and Chloë Grace Moretz, are both constantly using words they have learned from books. And these are great words, big, flashy words with lots of nuance. And for anyone who grew up reading a lot, the looks on Butterfield and Moretz's faces, the sheer delight evidenced in using one of these bold new words, well, it's relatable and recognizable and I loved it.
The movie is well worth watching for any number of reasons, but if you're into words and language, there's a little bit extra to love in it.
From 15th century French and before that Latin, etc. all the way back to good old PIE.
This is the second time I've linked to a Masterclass blog entry in recent months. The blog is slowly moving its way up the ranks of sites I check regularly for bits of fodder I can blather about in this newsletter.
Which might lead you to think the form is a bit like Latin - useful for scholarly work but defunct as a modern...thing. Fortunately, the form is alive and well, if a little obscure. Wikipedia's list of Epic Poems includes three from the 21st century and at least a dozen from the last two decades of the 20th century.
I don't know why that doesn't make it a song. I haven't thought that far ahead yet. Give me time.
I know, right? Another excellent resource I never knew about until just now.