why ask? ill said
naught he? nowhere
that said? what said
just this? this whose
unthrilled? feel so
said I’ll? be later
even so? what now
then again? nil wind
adversative? when to whom
conversative? with to which
adjourning? now here
heretofore? to where
in room? ill lit
elbow? move over
“Ill Seen Ill Said,” a novella piece by Samuel Beckett, appeared in the October 5, 1981 issue of The New Yorker magazine, first published by Les Éditions de Minuit in Paris, earlier in ’81. My poem above, “Q & A,” is a bit of a riff on Beckett’s themes.
On page 41 of The New Yorker, where the story begins, is a cartoon by Charles Barsotti. The cartoon shows a duck sitting at a desk. The duck wears glasses, is writing with a short pen or pencil on a piece of paper, a phone on a front corner of the desk, a stack of three pieces of paper on the other corner, the duck looking up, as if thinking of what to write next. Above the duck, still in the cartoon frame, the words: “Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack!” And above the cartoon box, a handwritten caption reads: “THE CALL OF THE WILD.”
There are 77 question marks in Beckett’s novella, including: “What the wrong word?” Just before, “Imagination at wit’s end spreads its sad wings.”
Why sad? Why wit? Rye whit. Why wry. Wary. Worry. Weak wreck.
Near 8,000 words to the novella. I counted only 3 commas in the entire piece. Short, staccato sentences.
We hardly see anything of reality’s totality (“Ill seen”), but that is our syllabus, and even that may seem overwhelming, and suppose we could see it all, could we describe it (“Ill said”), let alone explain it, and with only 0.000375% commas! All that said, we sometimes seem to come close, or someone does, and shares, and that’s a pleasure. Not an argument, not a theory, not a grammar, just a pleasure, like at a circus.
Beckett’s piece ends with, “Know happiness.” No end of playing with words.
“Which say? Ill say. Both. All three. Question answered,” says Beckett, in “Ill Seen Ill Said.”
The Coming of the Toads 