Thread for all good Pantagruelists

The Something Awful Forums > The Finer Arts > The Book Barn > Thread for all good Pantagruelists

BravestOfTheLamps: Oct 12, 2012; by FactsAreUseless; Lipstick Apathy

What is Pantagruelism?

"If you say to me, Master, it would seem that you were not very wise in writing to us these flimflam stories and pleasant fooleries; I answer you, that you are not much wiser to spend your time in reading them. Nevertheless, if you read them to make yourselves merry, as in manner of pastime I wrote them, you and I both are far more worthy of pardon than a great rabble of squint-minded fellows, dissembling and counterfeit saints, demure lookers, hypocrites, pretended zealots, tough friars, buskin-monks, and other such sects of men, who disguise themselves like masquers to deceive the world... Fly from these men, abhor and hate them as much as I do, and upon my faith you will find yourselves the better for it. And if you desire to be good Pantagruelists, that is to say, to live in peace, joy, health, making yourselves always merry, never trust those men that always peep out at one hole."

This is a chill book thread in the spirit of Pantagruel. All talk of books outlandish and ridiculous is welcome as long as it's in a spirit of good cheer and laughter!

BravestOfTheLamps fucked around with this message at 20:43 on Mar 7, 2019

# ? Mar 7, 2019 20:34

Adbot: ADBOT LOVES YOU

# ? May 17, 2024 09:46

Sham bam bamina!: Nov 6, 2012; ƨtupid cat

Keep meaning to read enough Rabelais to read Bakhtin's take on Rabelais.

# ? Mar 7, 2019 20:37

A human heart: Oct 10, 2012

I am reading Mulata by Miguel Angel Asturias and it's very much in the spirit of this thread, for example here is a part where the main character has been transformed into a giant by his jealous sorcerer wife after he was married to a dwarf by a priest who wanted to start a dwarf breeding program:

quote:

The Giants received the new Giant on a mountain of flags. A battle against hair. Giants and Gigantics were fighting against the hair that was coming out of them, unmanageable, furious. Like cutting down trees. Like cutting down ceibas. And are not ceibas trees? No, they are stars, they are giants with leaves, with hair. No one knows who planted them. They were not planted. They fell. Meteors with light for hair, like giants.
The fight between the Giants and their hair would never end. Hair, Beards, and hairy fuzz that covered them from their shoulders on down, as if they were bathed in cascades of shadow, a shadow which was spread over their arms, even the backs of their hands had gloves of fuzz that could be combed, their armpits were blinded by hair, their chests were like carpets, sweaty navels were invisible, and there were tresses between their legs.
And that giant stink even reached Huasanga, impelled by her bridal desires, even though her forehead barely reached a foot below Chiltic's knee.
'My Gigantic,' she squeaked at him in the frying talk of her great desire, 'I don't know what's happening to your Huasanguita, but I want to try a giant!'
A rumbling of mountains. Calling someone a giant who was only a Gigantic. Giants are Giants. The four most gigantic Giants : the Giant of the Wind, Huracan, the Giant of the Earth, Cabracan.... There are many Gigantics. All those who do the dance of the Gigantics during religious festivals.
And that was why the earth rolled and trembled, every time that someone with magnetised teeth, the teeth of lodestone, like Huasanga, would confuse the sacred Giants with the silly Gigantics.
Did she do it intentionally? Was she looking for the destruction of Terrapaulita to avenge herself on everyone and everything?
What was certain was that she was jumping like a flea, repeating over and over:
'I want to try and Giant!...I want to try a Giant!...'

You may think that you're missing some context here but not really, this is the first time in the book that Giants and Gigantics have been mentioned.

# ? Mar 7, 2019 23:24

BravestOfTheLamps: Oct 12, 2012; by FactsAreUseless; Lipstick Apathy

Sounds cool

Depending on the edition, one of the first chapters of Gargantua and Pantagruel is just a series of witty exchanges between drunks (though this probably bowdlerized translation almost turns it stream-of-consciousness nonsense):

Then did they fall upon the chat of victuals and some belly furniture to be snatched at in the very same place. Which purpose was no sooner mentioned, but forthwith began flagons to go, gammons to trot, goblets to fly, great bowls to ting, glasses to ring. Draw, reach, fill, mix, give it me without water. So, my friend, so, whip me off this glass neatly, bring me hither some claret, a full weeping glass till it run over. A cessation and truce with thirst. Ha, thou false fever, wilt thou not be gone? By my figgins, godmother, I cannot as yet enter in the humour of being merry, nor drink so currently as I would. You have catched a cold, gammer? Yea, forsooth, sir. By the belly of Sanct Buff, let us talk of our drink: I never drink but at my hours, like the Pope�s mule. And I never drink but in my breviary, like a fair father guardian. Which was first, thirst or drinking? Thirst, for who in the time of innocence would have drunk without being athirst? Nay, sir, it was drinking; for privatio praesupponit habitum. I am learned, you see: Foecundi calices quem non fecere disertum? We poor innocents drink but too much without thirst. Not I truly, who am a sinner, for I never drink without thirst, either present or future. To prevent it, as you know, I drink for the thirst to come. I drink eternally. This is to me an eternity of drinking, and drinking of eternity. Let us sing, let us drink, and tune up our roundelays. Where is my funnel? What, it seems I do not drink but by an attorney? Do you wet yourselves to dry, or do you dry to wet you? Pish, I understand not the rhetoric (theoric, I should say), but I help myself somewhat by the practice. Baste! enough! I sup, I wet, I humect, I moisten my gullet, I drink, and all for fear of dying. Drink always and you shall never die. If I drink not, I am a-ground, dry, gravelled and spent. I am stark dead without drink, and my soul ready to fly into some marsh amongst frogs; the soul never dwells in a dry place, drouth kills it. O you butlers, creators of new forms, make me of no drinker a drinker, a perennity and everlastingness of sprinkling and bedewing me through these my parched and sinewy bowels. He drinks in vain that feels not the pleasure of it. This entereth into my veins,�the pissing tools and urinal vessels shall have nothing of it. I would willingly wash the tripes of the calf which I apparelled this morning. I have pretty well now ballasted my stomach and stuffed my paunch. If the papers of my bonds and bills could drink as well as I do, my creditors would not want for wine when they come to see me, or when they are to make any formal exhibition of their rights to what of me they can demand. This hand of yours spoils your nose. O how many other such will enter here before this go out! What, drink so shallow? It is enough to break both girds and petrel. This is called a cup of dissimulation, or flagonal hypocrisy.

What difference is there between a bottle and a flagon. Great difference; for the bottle is stopped and shut up with a stopple, but the flagon with a vice (La bouteille est fermee a bouchon, et le flaccon a vis.). Bravely and well played upon the words! Our fathers drank lustily, and emptied their cans. Well cacked, well sung! Come, let us drink: will you send nothing to the river? Here is one going to wash the tripes. I drink no more than a sponge. I drink like a Templar knight. And I, tanquam sponsus. And I, sicut terra sine aqua. Give me a synonymon for a gammon of bacon. It is the compulsory of drinkers: it is a pulley. By a pulley-rope wine is let down into a cellar, and by a gammon into the stomach. Hey! now, boys, hither, some drink, some drink. There is no trouble in it. Respice personam, pone pro duos, bus non est in usu. If I could get up as well as I can swallow down, I had been long ere now very high in the air.

Thus became Tom Tosspot rich,�thus went in the tailor�s stitch. Thus did Bacchus conquer th� Inde�thus Philosophy, Melinde. A little rain allays a great deal of wind: long tippling breaks the thunder. But if there came such liquor from my ballock, would you not willingly thereafter suck the udder whence it issued? Here, page, fill! I prithee, forget me not when it comes to my turn, and I will enter the election I have made of thee into the very register of my heart. Sup, Guillot, and spare not, there is somewhat in the pot. I appeal from thirst, and disclaim its jurisdiction. Page, sue out my appeal in form. This remnant in the bottom of the glass must follow its leader. I was wont heretofore to drink out all, but now I leave nothing. Let us not make too much haste; it is requisite we carry all along with us. Heyday, here are tripes fit for our sport, and, in earnest, excellent godebillios of the dun ox (you know) with the black streak. O, for God�s sake, let us lash them soundly, yet thriftily. Drink, or I will,�No, no, drink, I beseech you (Ou je vous, je vous prie.). Sparrows will not eat unless you bob them on the tail, nor can I drink if I be not fairly spoke to. The concavities of my body are like another Hell for their capacity. Lagonaedatera (lagon lateris cavitas: aides orcus: and eteros alter.). There is not a corner, nor coney-burrow in all my body, where this wine doth not ferret out my thirst. Ho, this will bang it soundly. But this shall banish it utterly. Let us wind our horns by the sound of flagons and bottles, and cry aloud, that whoever hath lost his thirst come not hither to seek it. Long clysters of drinking are to be voided without doors. The great God made the planets, and we make the platters neat. I have the word of the gospel in my mouth, Sitio. The stone called asbestos is not more unquenchable than the thirst of my paternity. Appetite comes with eating, says Angeston, but the thirst goes away with drinking. I have a remedy against thirst, quite contrary to that which is good against the biting of a mad dog. Keep running after a dog, and he will never bite you; drink always before the thirst, and it will never come upon you. There I catch you, I awake you. Argus had a hundred eyes for his sight, a butler should have (like Briareus) a hundred hands wherewith to fill us wine indefatigably. Hey now, lads, let us moisten ourselves, it will be time to dry hereafter. White wine here, wine, boys! Pour out all in the name of Lucifer, fill here, you, fill and fill (peascods on you) till it be full. My tongue peels. Lans trinque; to thee, countryman, I drink to thee, good fellow, comrade to thee, lusty, lively! Ha, la, la, that was drunk to some purpose, and bravely gulped over. O lachryma Christi, it is of the best grape! I�faith, pure Greek, Greek! O the fine white wine! upon my conscience, it is a kind of taffetas wine,�hin, hin, it is of one ear, well wrought, and of good wool. Courage, comrade, up thy heart, billy! We will not be beasted at this bout, for I have got one trick. Ex hoc in hoc. There is no enchantment nor charm there, every one of you hath seen it. My �prenticeship is out, I am a free man at this trade. I am prester mast (Prestre mace, maistre passe.), Prish, Brum! I should say, master past. O the drinkers, those that are a-dry, O poor thirsty souls! Good page, my friend, fill me here some, and crown the wine, I pray thee. Like a cardinal! Natura abhorret vacuum. Would you say that a fly could drink in this? This is after the fashion of Switzerland. Clear off, neat, supernaculum! Come, therefore, blades, to this divine liquor and celestial juice, swill it over heartily, and spare not! It is a decoction of nectar and ambrosia.

BravestOfTheLamps fucked around with this message at 16:48 on Mar 10, 2019

# ? Mar 10, 2019 16:45

Bilirubin: Feb 16, 2014; The sanctioned action is to CHUG

That's hilarious and fun. Presumably its online somewhere? Depending on how archaic the French is perhaps I'll even try to give reading it in the original a go

# ? Mar 10, 2019 16:50

Bilirubin: Feb 16, 2014; The sanctioned action is to CHUG

FWIW I first learned of Rabelais from Robertson Davies' novel The Rebel Angels, in which a motley crew of academics, including a descendant of the despised original translator into English Thomas Urquhart, fight over a copy of a previously unknown MS by him. Its pretty funny but suffers a bit from "old academic sleeps with young female grad student" syndrome.

Bilirubin fucked around with this message at 04:14 on Mar 11, 2019

# ? Mar 10, 2019 18:46

BravestOfTheLamps: Oct 12, 2012; by FactsAreUseless; Lipstick Apathy

That's actually the Urquhart translation.

# ? Mar 10, 2019 19:52

BravestOfTheLamps: Oct 12, 2012; by FactsAreUseless; Lipstick Apathy

More from the same, detailing how Pantagruel, after infiltrating the camp of an invading army, triumphed over his enemies:

Suddenly Pantagruel had will to piss, by means of the drugs which Panurge had given him, and pissed amidst the camp so well and so copiously that he drowned them all, and there was a particular deluge ten leagues round about, of such considerable depth that the history saith, if his father�s great mare had been there, and pissed likewise, it would undoubtedly have been a more enormous deluge than that of Deucalion; for she did never piss but she made a river greater than is either the Rhone or the Danube. Which those that were come out of the city seeing, said, They are all cruelly slain; see how the blood runs along. But they were deceived in thinking Pantagruel�s urine had been the blood of their enemies, for they could not see but by the light of the fire of the pavilions and some small light of the moon.

The enemies, after that they were awaked, seeing on one side the fire in the camp, and on the other the inundation of the urinal deluge, could not tell what to say nor what to think. Some said that it was the end of the world and the final judgment, which ought to be by fire. Others again thought that the sea-gods, Neptune, Proteus, Triton, and the rest of them, did persecute them, for that indeed they found it to be like sea-water and salt.

O who were able now condignly to relate how Pantagruel did demean himself against the three hundred giants! O my Muse, my Calliope, my Thalia, inspire me at this time, restore unto me my spirits; for this is the logical bridge of asses! Here is the pitfall, here is the difficulty, to have ability enough to express the horrible battle that was fought. Ah, would to God that I had now a bottle of the best wine that ever those drank who shall read this so veridical history!

# ? Mar 10, 2019 19:57

Bilirubin: Feb 16, 2014; The sanctioned action is to CHUG

BravestOfTheLamps posted:

More from the same, detailing how Pantagruel, after infiltrating the camp of an invading army, triumphed over his enemies:

Suddenly Pantagruel had will to piss, by means of the drugs which Panurge had given him, and pissed amidst the camp so well and so copiously that he drowned them all, and there was a particular deluge ten leagues round about, of such considerable depth that the history saith, if his father�s great mare had been there, and pissed likewise, it would undoubtedly have been a more enormous deluge than that of Deucalion; for she did never piss but she made a river greater than is either the Rhone or the Danube. Which those that were come out of the city seeing, said, They are all cruelly slain; see how the blood runs along. But they were deceived in thinking Pantagruel�s urine had been the blood of their enemies, for they could not see but by the light of the fire of the pavilions and some small light of the moon.

The enemies, after that they were awaked, seeing on one side the fire in the camp, and on the other the inundation of the urinal deluge, could not tell what to say nor what to think. Some said that it was the end of the world and the final judgment, which ought to be by fire. Others again thought that the sea-gods, Neptune, Proteus, Triton, and the rest of them, did persecute them, for that indeed they found it to be like sea-water and salt.

O who were able now condignly to relate how Pantagruel did demean himself against the three hundred giants! O my Muse, my Calliope, my Thalia, inspire me at this time, restore unto me my spirits; for this is the logical bridge of asses! Here is the pitfall, here is the difficulty, to have ability enough to express the horrible battle that was fought. Ah, would to God that I had now a bottle of the best wine that ever those drank who shall read this so veridical history!

Wanna teach TRUMP to read* so he can enjoy that passage

(*Don't really want to be anywhere close to him though)

# ? Mar 10, 2019 22:00

CountFosco: Jan 9, 2012; Welcome back to the Liturgigoon thread, friend.

This sort of libertinism is all fun and games until it gives us a De Sade and then the mask is revealed, and the supposed jolliness and health Rabelais was offering us stands before us as anguish and death.

# ? Mar 10, 2019 22:39

A human heart: Oct 10, 2012

BravestOfTheLamps posted:

That's actually the Urquhart translation.

I read something by an academic once where he said that the Urquhart translation was the best one because, even though there are bits where he didn't know what was going on and just made stuff up, he was closer to the spirit of Rabelais than anyone else.

# ? Mar 11, 2019 00:11

BravestOfTheLamps: Oct 12, 2012; by FactsAreUseless; Lipstick Apathy

CountFosco posted:

This sort of libertinism is all fun and games until it gives us a De Sade and then the mask is revealed, and the supposed jolliness and health Rabelais was offering us stands before us as anguish and death.

And that's a bad thing because...?

# ? Mar 11, 2019 00:19