Rhetoric and Logic

I shall cut down all who stand in my way

I shall cut down all who stand in my way

I shall cut down all who stand in my way

I shall cut down all who stand in my way

One person says that Steinbeck is one of their favourite authors for prose, and then they share an example of what they would consider purple prose. It is so violetly awful that I think the poster must have written it themselves as a kind of parody of purple prose. Other people assumed the same.

But as it turns out, they are quoting from a book written by a YouTuber whose channel ia dedicated to talking about writing (namely, their own writing, which is genius, but often not comprehensible to the drooling plebs).

Naturally, I read the free sample of their book in awe and horror, and I'd like to share some screenshots with you. If you also have trouble defining or understanding what purple prose is, it's this.

'Noctilucent orbs'. Even fanfic written by a 14-year-old wouldn't dare.

More Sauron sketches.

The story of George Hodgson, a farmer who died in 1715 at the age of 94 in the village of Dent in the Lake District, and came back in the form of a black hare preying on sheep. A farmer shot him, and followed him back to his old house. Hence, they dug up his body, drove a brass pole through it, and reburied him in the local church, in which his grave and the pole (actually part of a door hinge, because the stone in question is reused from a house) are still visible [1].

For a long time, I was sceptical of the authenticity of this story, because with the exception of the Gorbals Vampire and the Highgate Vampire, who both postdate gothic literature and its reinvention of the vampire, I haven't heard of any post-medieval vampire stories in Britain. But I've realised the story does make sense within British folklore.

One of the stock powers of witches in Britain was turning into hares, and in a story from Yorkshire, the witch does so in order to drain milk from cattle [2]. Additionally, there are a couple of cases of witches having stakes driven through their heart after death, and in one of them, a male witch from Lincolnshire called Jimmy C-, the purpose was because he remained active after death [3]. And odd features in churches were common origins of folktales, such as the Mordiford Wyvern, a Herefordshire dragon legend based on a now-lost picture in the local church [4]. Hence, Hodgson's story seems like a mix of common folklore motifs, so I'm convinced of its authenticity.

2. The Lyke-Wake Dirge is a Yorkshire funeral song describing the soul's journey after death - first they cross Whinny-Muir (Gorse Bush Moor), then Brig o' Dread (Bridge of Dread), and finally they arrive in Purgatory, with each stage of the journey being dependent on giving food and clothes to the poor during life to cross [5]. The poem's often been speculated to be a Christianised version of pre-Christian Norse afterlife, with Brig o' Dread in particular compared to the Bridge of Gjöll in the Prose Edda [6].

For a long time, I thought this was an overreading of the evidence - after all, "bridge to the land of the dead" is hardly so specific an idea it's impossible for two cultures to independently come up with it. However, in researching this poem I found two medieval Scandinavian texts similar to it - the Icelandic Leizla Rannveiger (Rannvig's Vision) and the Norwegian Draumkvedet (Dream Poem), which both describe Hell as a field of thorns [7]. After that, I looked up the text of the Draumkvedet, and found it has both the field of thorns and the bridge (here called the Gjallar Bridge), and in the ending we're told that crossing them will be easy if in life we give food and clothes to the poor. The strong parallels between two cultures (Yorkshire and Norway) that didn't communicate much after the Viking era as far as I'm aware and the name similarity (Gjallar Bridge - Bridge of Gjöll) have brought me round to believing that the Lyke-Wake Dirge probably does reflect a pagan Norse idea of the afterlife.

Sources

David Castleton, 2021, Church Curiosities: Strange Objects and Bizarre Legends, Shire Publications: Oxford, pp.37-38

Neil Philip, 2022, The Watkins Book of English Folktales, Watkins Media Ltd., pp.266-267

Ethel Rudkin, 1934, “Lincolnshire Folklore, Witches and Devils”, Folklore, volume 45, number 3, pp.249-267

Jacqueline Simpson, 1976, The Folklore of the Welsh Border, Batsford: London, pp.48-49

Vic Gammon, 1988, “Singing and Popular Funeral Practices in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries”, Folk Music Journal, pp.412-447

F. Sidgwick and Lucy E. Broadwood, 1906, “Note on: Our Saviour Tarried out or the Bitter Withy”, Journal of the Folk-Song Society, pp.300-304

I do not think it sounds implausible as proper oral tradition from the time, or maybe a little later. Especially since the story actively includes people remembering extra spooky details after the man's death. It's certainly a very good story.

I usually do not concern myself so much with finding out if something is "true folklore", much less "true history". I do like trying to hunt down the earliest known written source and to see where that person claimed they heard/collected it. But mostly because I dislike it when people say a story is older than it actually is. Stories don't have to be ancient to be folklore, but misinformation is still no good.

That being said, looking at the gravestone in question:

Interviewer: So, how are your core competencies?

Candidate: Bad. I have at least once slipped up.

The interviewer's eyebrows raise, and he marks something down on his clipboard.

Interviewer: Are you aware that this job requires being on your feet for several hours a day?

Candidate: No.

Interviewer: Please state the weight of clothing that you would be unable to wear, for the duration of a 12 hour shift.

Candidate: I couldn't handle 50 pounds.

Interviewer: Oh no, no, I can set your mind at ease. We're well funded. The helmets are a little bulky, but the shirt is chain. The whole ensemble is maybe, oh, 15 pounds. Nobody ever attacks, anyway.

Candidate: That's a shame.

The interviewer gives the candidate a strange look. Then he lets out a brief aspiration, nods quietly, and returns to the clipboard.

Interviewer: Work well on a team of two?

Candidate: I have fewer than ten years of experience of doing so.

Interviewer: And what were you doing before this?

Candidate: I wasn't one of two henchmen for a warlord, one of whom was tall and skinny and the other short and fat, that's for sure.

The interviewer studies the candidate's physique for a moment, trying to determine from a seated position whether this neither-skinny-nor-fat guy is tall.

Candidate: I was the fat one.

Interviewer: You understand that you'd have to rein in the repartee for this role, yes?

Candidate: I refuse to do this.

Interviewer: Can you be a little clearer?

Candidate: I will speak out of turn.

Interviewer: Perfect. Really all I needed. Well, seems like the serum is working great, no signs of allergy, so as far as I'm concerned, you can start today. Any questions for me?

The candidate shifts in his seat, and clears his throat.

Candidate: What if they ask me if there's a God?

The interview frowns at his clipboard. He hasn't been interviewing for this role for very long, and his predecessor didn't leave very good notes. He clears his throat.

Candidate: What if they ask me what the other guy wouldn't say, if they asked him the meaning of life? Or if they ask me if they should get married to each other, if it's a couple?

The interviewer interjects, still rifling through his notes.

Interviewer: We almost never get couples.

Candidate: What if they ask me whether good or evil is greater on balance, or whether there is greater beauty in the sunset or sunrise, or how best to live?

Interviewer: Oh come on. That last one's easy. Just tell them to drink cyanide every morning, or to burn down their own house every night.

Candidate: The gap between is and ought is so easily crossed.

Interviewer: Oh, I don't know. Just tell them you know the answer.

As he says this, the interviewer finds the place in his notes that says that this role must not demur in such a way.

Interviewer: Scratch that. Come on, man. They won't ask any of that. They'll ask about the doors. They know you're not, like, an oracle.

Candidate: I didn't go to oracle school.

The interviewer and candidate exchange a look, as if to say to each other, well of course you're here, then, applying for this might as well be minimum wage role in the middle of nowhere, because both know the job prospects for a typical graduate of oracle school.

Interviewer: Oh, actually, it's right here. The first time a question is off topic, you're supposed to be silent. The second time a booming voice will warn them to stay on topic. The third time you still aren't supposed to answer, but it counts as their question and they have to guess with no information.

Candidate: Great. Sorry for the trouble.

Interviewer: Oh come on, don't be like that. Do you want the job or not?

Candidate: No.

They shake hands, and the candidate reports to his post that very day. A band of adventurers arrives not long after.

He arrived at the leisure park. He complained to a guard, who said:

"It takes you where you need to be."