I have been fantastically, unexplainably sick for the last two weeks and the biggest sign that I’m on the mend is because my brain finally clicked in over the weekend and demanded to read something a bit challenging (but also fun). And thankfully this turned up in the post during the week (I’m becoming a bit of an Atlas Press obsessive) because it’s not only the best Oulipo collection I’ve yet read but also incredibly, incredibly funny. I suspect the reason it’s so successful is because it doesn’t try to be definitive or to cover every aspect of the movement, and instead just reprints a bunch of issues of material and so is more indicative of a very different form of the Oulipo: a bunch of lads trying to make each other laugh, whilst also dazzling them with their ideas
Some of the material is more on the cerebral end - the quite handy guide by Calvino for the structure of Winter’s Night; and the poetry of Harry Mathews, which is entertaining if a bit dry. The two extracts from Queneau that start it are probably a bit more indicative of the tone, with a manifesto that’s sincere followed by a dazzling but hilarious rewrite of a geometry text book but transposing mathematical terminology for literature ones. This feels like almost the perfect example of Oulipo for me, because it’s very funny whilst also being incredibly clever and eventually begins to make a sort of weird sense. The other mathematical based piece is by Claude Berge, which sort of nods to the role of crime fiction in the Oulipo (and its parallels in Harry Stephen Keeler’s Webwork, which the movement must have ADORED, and Cain’s Jawbone). It’s a bit of a slog if you can’t follow the maths, but is enjoyable in a sort of Rawlinson’s End shaggy dog story
And then there’s the masterpieces. Paul Fournel’s Suburbia takes the concept of Perec’s A Void to its most absurd end whilst also being a genuinely hilarious piece of absurdity. But the classic here, and my vote for one of the funniest pieces I have read in years, is The Great-Ape Love-Song by Jacques Jouet. It’s not entirely clear what the Oulipo aspect of this is, but it’s a brilliant piece of sustained mocking academic writing about love poetry written by gorillas that’s not afraid of being cerebral, ridiculous and also just plain daft. There’s several very po-faced references to Love Truncheons in it which suggests the Oulipo lads were big Spinal Tap fans. And it also reminds me why Oulipo is my favourite experimental form in any artistic medium. It’s all about play - playing with language and playing with ideas and playing with expectations. And sometimes playing is having a daft laugh with your mates. Exquisite