Dismembering Enjambment

Prejamble.

From the French enjamber, innit. Literally means to encroach or straddle (the lines) - see helpful illustration below, but don't try this on your local railway tracks as the results are not pleasant. It's also worth knowing that jambe is the French word for leg.

enjambment personified - sense the tension

How and why it works. 

As a poetic device, it's well famous. When reading a poem with an enjambed (rather than an end-stopped) line, the sense of that line of verse is not self-contained, meaning the syntax is not complete and the meaning runs over into the following line without punctuation, thus giving rise to a tension that is only resolved by the rejet, (more French, dudes), the word or phrase on the subsequent line that completes the syntax.

Dismembering Enjambment.

If that's not clear, let me break it down for you, with reference to the illustration above. The width of rails in Canada, also known as the track gauge, is  4 ft  8 1⁄2 in (or 1.435 metres). If a person is taller than that, say 6ft (or 1.829 metres) and is tied to the rails in the path of an oncoming locomotive, his head and his lower legs enjamb the lines and will get chopped off by the passing train. That will  leave a neat 4 ft 8 1⁄2 in body section, the standard width of the lines, plus two or three other separated body parts (head and legs) further down the track. The true identity of the poet (did I not mention that bit? someone couldn't abide his rhymes or so I guess), will only be resolved when all the bits are taken in conjunction, jammed together without punctuation. 

A very short history.

Homer was doing it 2,500 years ago - even before French was a thing. Clever geezer, that one. Some of the Biblical dudes followed suit, though that's probably gained in translation during Stuart times. Those clever Metaphysicals loved it. And Shakespeare, the GOAT, was well into his enjambments, wasn't he. Take his words for it, not mine.

Hamlet by the GOAT, performed by the RSC at Blackpool Grand Theatre

We went to see Hamlet, performed by the Royal Shakespeare Company at Blackpool Grand Theatre earlier this evening, and it was brilliant. Best play of all time. I studied it for A-level English and at university. It's a good job Blackpool FC managed a win this afternoon, because I would have struggled with two tragedies in one day.

Anyway, here's one of Hamlet's soliloquys. It's from Act IV scene iv and it's full of enjambment...

How all occasions do inform against me

And spur my dull revenge! What is a man

If his chief good and market of his time

Be but to sleep and feed? A beast, no more.

Sure he that made us with such large discourse

Looking before and after gave us not

That capability and god-like reason

To fust in us unused. Now, whether it be

Bestial oblivion or some craven scruple

Of thinking too precisely on th'event -

A thought which quartered hath but one part 

Wisdom and ever three parts coward - I do not know

Why yet I live to say "This thing's to do",

Sith I have cause and will and strength and means

To do't...Examples gross as earth exhort me.

Witness this army of such mass and charge

Led by a delicate and tender prince

Whose spirit with divine ambition puffed

Makes mouths at the invisible event,

Exposing what is mortal and unsure 

To all that fortune, death and danger dare

Even for an eggshell... Rightly to be great

Is not to stir without great argument

But greatly to find quarrel in a straw

When honour's at the stake. How stand I then,

That have a father killed, a mother stained,

Excitements of my reason and my blood

And let all sleep? while to my shame I see

The imminent death of twenty thousand men

That for a fantasy and trick of fame

Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot

Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause

Which is not tomb enough and continent

to hide the slain? O, from this time forth

My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth.

            

Thanks for reading. Mind how you go, S ;-)

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Flood

Can we manage another Saturday blog with more than a hint of World Cup about it?  Of course we can. Flood is the week's given theme, so I'm thinking lights (as in floodlights at stadia) and emotion (witness the irrepressible outpouring of joy that has swept middle earth in response to Morocco's phenomenal progress in Qatar). 

The function of floodlights at sports grounds is obvious enough: to allow games to be played after dark. Given that the majority of world cup games in Qatar have kicked off after dusk, it's no surprise that the eight world cup stadia have become baskets of light each match night. (Presumably the Qataris don't have to worry too much about the energy bills!) To kick off, here's a teasing triple quiz question for you. Which sport do you imagine was the first to feature a floodlit game? And when? And who was competing? [Answers at the foot of the blog. ]

Floodlights at Wrexham FC

I'll throw you one clue - it wasn't football - though Sheffield United did trial a floodlit game with temporary battery-powered lights late in 1878, in an attempt to "brighten up" the gloomy atmosphere of a South Yorkshire winter afternoon. In fact football lagged way behind other sports, thanks largely to the innate refusal to embrace change of the Football Association. When Herbert Chapman was manager of Arsenal in the 1930s he installed permanent floodlights at Highbury Stadium but the FA refused to sanction their use, so they were only turned on for friendly and unofficial games and League football continued to contend with the inevitable murk and gloom that beset the latter stages of many a winter game adhering to the traditional 3pm kick off time.

Things only began to change in the English football world in the 1950s. Southampton installed permanent floodlighting at the Dell as did Spurs at White Hart Lane but still the FA refused to sanction its use for league or cup games. Even Wembley Stadium had floodlights installed before the the first official use of the technology at a league match, Portsmouth v Newcastle at Fratton Park in February 1956. Now of course we take floodlights at football stadia for granted (until those occasions when they fail). They guarantee that the field of play can be as bright as a summer's day regardless of the time of day, the season of the year or the vagaries of the weather.

Of course there are very few vagaries of weather in Qatar where (whatever one may think of the decision to hold the finals there - see my previous Miscalculation blog for the lowdown on that) there has been some pretty exciting football to enjoy, not least, as mentioned at the outset, from the Moroccans. Winning their group and then knocking out Spain ought to have sent a message to the football world that here was a force to be reckoned with.

Ecstatic Moroccans in Qatar

And now they've just gone and made history by knocking out Portugal, thus becoming the first African team ever to reach a world cup semi-final. The only goal they have conceded in the whole tournament was an own goal. They have been supremely well organised and potent on the attack (though missed chances in both the last two games to put the game to bed well before the final whistle). 

I've fancied Morocco for a few years now. I bought a Morocco football top for the last world cup in Russia where they failed to get out of their group (losing 1-0 to Portugal in the process). I've worn it for every game this tournament and get to do so once again at least. The support they have been given by their fans (and many more across Africa and the Arab world) has been immense. What hasn't been widely reported is that their fans stay behind to tidy up the stadium just like the Japanese fans did. They've earned their right to be euphoric and to celebrate tonight. This is the joy of the beautiful game.

Moroccan diaspora celebrating across Africa and Europe

There's no poem this time - football has provided the poetry today. I'm emotionally drained by the afternoon's events and there's still England v France to negotiate. 

Oh yes, the answers to my teasing triple quiz question: Surprise, surprise... it was polo, way back in July 1878 when Ranelagh Club competed against the Hurlingham Club in London. The duration of a polo match is variable and they used the new technology as they wanted to be able to play on to the conclusion of their game and not have it curtailed by darkness falling.

Thanks for reading, S ;-)

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