Exercies in Style

What is your style of writing? That is certainly one of the questions on our minds when we are just beginning to think of ourselves as writers. As we write we will discover what topics are always with us, who are our characters, what is it we wish to say. But suppose we are given a topic, a very mundane, every day situation. A situation that could fit in one sentence. The way we describe this situation will give us a clue as to what our style is.

Raymond Queneau, a French novelist, has done this sort of  exercise and published the outcome in a book called "Exercise in Style". He has taken a simple situation of a man getting on the bus, witnessing a brief interaction between two fellow passengers and eventually getting off the bus and spotting one of the passenger in the city two hours later. The passenger he met later on the street is a young man with long neck, and a hat on his head and this young man reproaches another passenger for pushing him. Two hours later he is seen with a friend who points out to him that his coat is missing a button. Queneau has retold this story in 99 very different ways.

Here are three versions of the story written by Queneau. Why not write our own versions, one or more, in the comment to this blog post?  It will be fun as much as useful! I hope to read versions from whoever stumbles upon this blog while surfing the net!

   Notation

In the S bus, in the rush hour. A chap of about 26, felt hat with a cord instead of a ribbon, neck too long, as if someone's been having a tug-of-war with it. People getting off. The chap in question gets annoyed with one of the men standing next to him. He accuses him of jostling him every time anyone goes past. A sniveling tone which is meant to be aggressive. When he sees a vacant seat he throws himself on it.

Two hours later, I meet him in the Cour de Rome, in front of the gare Saint Lazare. He's with a friend who's saying: “You ought to get an extra button on your overcoat”. He shows him where (at the lapels) and why.

 

Dream

I had the impression that everything was misty and nacreous around me, with multifarious and indistinct apparitions, amongst whom however was one figure that stood out fairly clearly which was that of a young man whose too-long neck in itself seemed to proclaim the character at once cowardly and quarrelsome of the individual. The ribbon of his hat had been replaced by a piece of plaited string. Later he was having an argument with a person whom I couldn’t see and then, as if suddenly afraid, he threw himself into the shadow of a corridor.

Litotes

Some of us were travelling together. A young man, who didn't look very intelligent, spoke to the man next to him for a few moments, then he went and sat down. Two hours later I met him again; he was with a friend and was talking about clothes.

Metaphorically

In the centre of the day, tossed among the shoal of travelling sardines in a coleopter with a big white carapace, a chicken with a long, featherless neck suddenly harangued one, a peace abiding one, of their number, and its parlance, moist with protest, was unfolded upon the airs. Then, attracted by a void, the fledging precipitated itself thereunto.

In a bleak urban desert, I saw it again that same day, drinking the cup of humiliation offered by a lowly button

Surprised

How tightly packed in we were on that bus platform! And how stupid and ridiculous that young man looked! And what was he doing? Well, if he wasn't actually trying to pick a quarrel with a chap who - so he claimed! the young fop! Kept on pushing him! And than he didn't find anything better to do than to rush off and grab a seat which had become free! Instead of leaving it for a lady!
Two hours after, guess whom I met in front of the gare Saint Lazare! The same fancy pants! Being given some sartorial advice! By a friend!
You'd never believe it!