Creating nonsense is hard work. It’s only on the surface that it appears to be easy. Shouting out random non sequiturs on the spot might work sometimes, but there is a deeper type of nonsense. Once you take an interest in the absurd, you begin to realise that there is actually a sort of sense to nonsense, and not only that, there is a certain beauty to nonsense, too.
It was thanks to Lewis Carroll that I first became interested in the nonsensical, and it was his Alice books that introduced me to the idea that it isn’t always as random as it seems on first glance. Carroll was a (rather skilled) mathematician, and Alice’s Adventure’s in Wonderland actually contains a lot of logic puzzles that he would have been familiar with, not to mention a large amount of wordplay. Interestingly, it shows just how ridiculous the rational could be in certain situations, or at least, how it could seem ridiculous to some. (I know absolutely nothing about maths, by the way, so please forgive me if I’m explaining things wrong.) While the book is meandering and surreal, the silliness of the scenes do have a sort of structure to them. It uses logic, just in a way that we aren’t accustomed to, approaching it from an unfamiliar perspective. And so, if it is capable of making sense, in a way, isn’t it capable of being beautiful and meaningful also?
Of course, not all nonsense-writers would know so much about logic and maths as Carroll did, and many of them prefer to be a bit more loose and free in how they generate their ideas. But this doesn’t mean that their stories don’t make any sense, either. You just have to accept the work of nonsense on its own terms, using Willing Suspension of Disbelief so as to allow yourself to enjoy the work. The stuff that happens is strange or absurd, and there doesn’t have to be any logical reason behind that, However, just because a story doesn’t make rational sense doesn’t mean it makes no sense at all. Often, a work of nonsense can make perfect sense, just because it happens to feel right, both for the creator and for the audience. Its disconnection from reality doesn’t matter. In these cases, the nonsense flows naturally, and is capable of making its audience experience all sorts of emotions. In this way, nonsense is a very beautiful thing.
I am fascinated with beauty that comes from unexpected places. Sometimes, a crazy cartoon normally filled with slapstick can contain some inexplicably poignant and touching moments, and I feel it’s something very special indeed when that sort of thing is achieved. It’s important to remember, also, that nonsense isn’t limited to just silliness. Nonsense is, after all, anything that just doesn’t make sense, and so a Magritte painting can count as nonsense, or a novel by Haruki Murakami, or a David Lynch film. Nonsense is more diverse than some people might think, and it is not to be mocked (unless the mocking is done with good humour). Nonsense includes things from the outrageously bizarre to the quiet and simple. All are beautiful in their own way, and I think that anything that gets you to look at things from a new angle has to be worthwhile.
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