Thus far the material has been classified according to the causes of laughter, which reflects my intention to examine the means that create comic effects. It is now time to widen the range of observations and focus on linguistic devices. This vast field requires detailed and lengthy research; however, only a number of striking examples will be highlighted.
Language is not comical in itself but becomes so when it reflects some feature of the speaker’s intellectual and moral life – that is, some flaw in a mental process. It has already been noted that a person’s speech can reveal a lack of logic. Every language possesses a rich store of devices for the comic or for ridicule, but only the main ones will be examined, including puns and paradoxes along with various witticisms based on them. Some forms of irony also belong here, and special attention should be paid to stylistic aspects of the text.
Much has been written about puns. In German aesthetics they are referred to as Witz, but this word has a broader meaning than the Russian word of French origin kalambur (calembour). Witz is understood as any witticism, whereas the pun is a particular, special type of witticism. Despite numerous works on the topic, the pun has not been adequately defined. Überhorst gives eight different definitions of puns in his book on the comic. Specific works on witticisms and puns have appeared since then (Kuno Fischer, Freud, Yolles) and they are defined in some works on more general topics. I will not list these, but will focus only on the latest ones available to Russian scholarship. For Borev (1964, 225), ‘a pun is a play on words, a type of witticism based on purely linguistic devices.’ This definition shows that the issue needs more work. Borev has given a description rather than a definition and has defined the pun on the broader notion of a witticism. This is correct, but neither notion has been explained. Puns are created solely by means of linguistic devices, but Borev does not specify which ones. Shcherbin believes that the main features of a pun are its naturalness and purposefulness. For him, ‘the most general characteristics of a pun’ are ‘the principle of contrast, naturalness and purposefulness, wit and the truthfulness of the idea’ (1958, 25). This definition is too vague to be acceptable.
We should begin the analysis by defining a pun, since apart from some theoretical works, simple and unsophisticated definitions are given in dictionaries, for example, in The Dictionary of the Russian Language by Ozhegov: ‘Pun: a joke based on the comical use of words that sound similar, but have a different meaning.’ The Dictionary of Foreign Words, edited by Lyokhin and Petrov, has the following: ‘Pun: a play on words based on the similarity of their sounds but with different meanings.’ These definitions are incomplete, but the basic idea is clear: a pun uses a literal instead of a figurative meaning. Some theorists reject this interpretation. ‘The borderline between the literal and figurative meanings of a word is vague,’ writes Shcherbin (1958, 28). According to him, it is wrong to consider ‘the interplay between the literal and figurative meanings of words as the basis of the pun’ (29). He objects to Vinogradov,1 who uses this very interplay in his article on Gogol.
It is true that the borderline between the literal and the figurative meanings of words is not always distinct, but this is not an argument against the common definition of the pun, which according to our material turns out to be correct. From the point of view of the theory of the comic proposed here, it allows us to explain the nature of the pun as words having two or more meanings that are not on the same plane. Some are broad, generalized, or abstract, others are more narrow, specific, and practical. The latter are usually but infelicitously referred to as ‘literal.’ The pun, or the play on words, occurs when one speaker understands the word in its broad or general meaning, while another substitutes a narrower or literal meaning for it. In this way the person undermines the other’s judgment and shows that it is incorrect. From the point of view of the theory presented here, the comic of a play on words does not differ essentially from the other kinds: it merely happens to be a particular instance of it. As in other cases, where the comical impression is created by shifting attention from the mental aspects of human activities to their external signs, a pun causes laughter when a more general meaning of a word is replaced in our minds with its external, ‘literal’ meaning.
A pun can be unintended, but it can also be produced deliberately, which requires a special talent. Two or three examples will suffice, without delving into any theoretical analysis or trying to classify the many different types of puns.
A conversation overheard somewhere:
‘What’s this?’
‘Squash ikraa’ [Russian for both caviar and vegetable paste].
‘Hmm. I wonder where squashes spawn.’
A journalist’s son about his father:
‘My daddy is said to have a feather pen.’
When his dad gets a typewriter, the boy asks:
‘Now my daddy will be said to have a feather typewriter, won’t he?’
Sretensky’s (1926) book shows how children reproduce and interpret adults’ talk: ‘Daddy chases every skirt’ and ‘mum now grills daddy the whole day.’
In the saying ‘you look at the world through rose-coloured glasses,’ the word ‘glasses’ is used figuratively and does not cause laughter. But if somebody says: ‘you look at the world through a rose-colored pince-nez,’ it will be perceived as comical for the reasons stated above. The ability to find quickly the literal meaning of a word and substitute it for a broader one than the speaker intended is, as noted above, a form of wit that requires a certain talent. Chernyshevsky defines a witticism as an unexpected and rapid bringing together of two objects. This ability requires quick-wittedness of the sort that Byron was known for. In his letter to Thomas Moore dated 28 April 1821, he wrote: ‘Lady Noel has, as you say, been dangerously ill; but it may console you to learn that she is dangerously well again’ (1965, 203). And there is this, from the Russian satirical magazine Krokodil (1965, 30, no. 5): ‘A pupil applies to the Office of Good Deeds with this request: “Ma’am, will you do my homework for me.”’
In all such cases, the pun does not attempt to expose flaws and is used as an inoffensive joke. However, when we examine each one, there are flaws, though they are hardly noticeable at first glance. For example, Byron’s pun ‘Lady Noel is dangerously well’ contains an allusion to the aggressive character of his mother-in-law. However, the comic and the hidden satirical bent of this pun are evident even without this comment.
Nevertheless, a pun is not always an inoffensive and good-natured joke; it can become a dangerous and extremely powerful instrument. It may kill, just like other kinds of ridiculing laughter. If the object of the pun does not deserve ridicule, the pun is inappropriate and offensive. This is why some theorists have a negative and even contemptuous attitude towards it. For example, the philosopher Kuno Fischer2 says that the pun ‘lacks an organ of veneration.’ Hecker believes that puns are made without any sense of morality. Even Goethe states in his aphorisms: ‘To be witty is not art at all, if you feel respect for nothing.’
However, as our materials show, a pun can be neither moral nor immoral: everything depends on the way it is used and on what it is directed at. Directed at negative aspects of life, it becomes a sharp and pointed weapon of satire. An incident that happened to Mayakovsky3 is repeatedly given as a prime example. Before the Russian Revolution, while he was giving a reading, an indignant listener stood up and left. Mayakovsky stopped reciting and said: ‘What kind of an out-of-the-row person is he?’ The expression ‘out of the row’ [Russian for outstanding] means ‘unusual,’ ‘better than others,’ but in the author’s pun the word was understood in a narrow, literal meaning: a row of seats in a concert hall. The pun usually crushes or undermines the interlocutor’s judgment. The person who left during the recital had said nothing, but his act had expressed his aversion. By drawing the audience’s attention to the form in which he expressed his judgment, Mayakovsky destroyed its inner meaning. The inner emptiness and insignificance of the opponent was revealed, helped along by the ironic nature of Mayakovsky’s judgment. Though he seemed to praise him (‘outstanding’), he gave the word the opposite meaning, and after waiting for two or three seconds, he added: ‘He went to have a shave.’ In this way, he finished the blow by pointing out a certain outer flaw of his opponent that suddenly became obvious to everybody, emphasizing his negative assessment. ‘Not every general is full from birth’ (Prutkov 1974, 144). Kozma Prutkov’s pun is based on the fact that ‘a full general,’ according to the hierarchy of military ranks in the tsarist army, designated the top general’s rank. But ‘full’ also means ‘full-bodied,’ and the substitution of one concept for the other imparts both comical and satirical meaning, since the reader immediately imagines a fat, self-important, and arrogant tsarist general.
Plays on words and literal understandings of the meaning of words for satirical purposes are often found in folklore. Folktales from the German folk book about Till Eulenspiegel are based almost entirely on these. Their plots at the same time portray the duping of the master; for example, the workman carries out quite literally the order ‘Grease the coach!’ Till covers not only the axles with grease but also the upholstered silk seat on which his master is to sit. Similar plots occur in Russian folklore as well, though they are not linked together as a series as they are in German folklore.
Paradoxes – statements where the predicate contradicts the subject, the modifier, or the modified element – are close to puns. Here is an example: ‘All clever people are fools, and only fools are clever.’ It might seem that such statements make no sense. In fact, some sense can still be found in them and it can even seem that certain, especially subtle, ideas have been encoded in them. Oscar Wilde was a master of these. His essay ‘The Decay of Lying’ is permeated with the paradox that any truth is deceitful, while only a deceit is truthful. It is evident from the following example how close paradoxes sometimes are to puns. ‘Everyone says that Charles is an awful hypochondriac. And what does it actually mean? – “A hypochondriac is a person who feels well only when he feels unwell.”’
A paradox can also express caustically derisive ideas. There is a well-known dictum attributed to Talleyrand: ‘Language was given to man to conceal his thoughts.’ Some unintended paradoxes are comical because of the incongruity hidden in them. In Chekhov’s sketch ‘A Silly Woman, or the Retired Captain,’ a retired captain, who needs a fiancée not rich, pretty, or clever – even a fool will do – consults a matchmaker. ‘A fool will love you and respect you,’ he says, ‘and she will be impressed by your rank.’ The matchmaker replies: ‘There are lots of foolish women, and they are all intelligent fools … And each fool has intelligence of her own. Do you need an utter fool?’ (1974–82, II:233). There is a similar paradox in Chekhov’s short story ‘The Daughter of a Commerce Councillor.’ A general and a commerce councillor are having drinks. The councillor starts to behave outrageously, and the general tells him: ‘Stop it! There should be a decency set to every outrage’ (1974—82, II:256). The unintended but deliberate paradoxes in these cases are funny if the comparison is unexpected. These types of paradoxes are a variety of witticism; for example, ‘He has a great future behind him’ conveys ridicule and can be used satirically. We find such a satirical paradox in Saltykov-Shchedrin’s The History of a Town, in the chapter ‘War for Enlightenment’: ‘At the same time, as ill luck would have it, a revolution flared up in France, and it became clear to everybody that “enlightenment” is useful only when it is of an unenlightened nature, or when it is unenlightened by nature’ (1965–77, VIII:352).
Irony, which is very close to paradox, is not very difficult to define. While in paradox notions that exclude one another are combined despite their incompatibility, in irony what is really meant but only implied is just the opposite of what is explicitly expressed verbally. Words express something positive while the implication is negative. Thus irony indirectly exposes the flaws of the person (or the thing) in question. It is a type of ridicule, and this determines its comicality. When it is represented as a virtue that is contrasted, the flaw is emphasized. Irony is especially expressive in spoken language, where special ridiculing intonation serves as its instrument.
The forms of irony both in everyday life and in literature are very diverse and several examples will be given. Classical cases can be found in Gogol’s works. For instance, in the story about the quarrel between Ivan Ivanovich and Ivan Nikiforovich, a square in the small town of Mirigorod is described with a puddle in it: ‘An astonishing puddle! The only one like it you’ll ever chance to see! It takes up almost the whole square. A beautiful puddle!’ (1999, 213). One should note the exclamatory intonation so typical of irony, which can be obvious enough even without it. There is the following phrase in Gogol’s ‘Nevsky Prospect’: ‘You sometimes see Russian peasants hurrying across the street on their way to work, shod in boots so caked with lime that not even the Yekaterininsky canal, so famed for its clean water, could wash them clean’ (1998, 4). Ridiculing irony can often be found in Chekhov’s letters, for example: ‘Our anti-famine committee is doing well: in Voronezh, I dined with the governor and went to the theatre every evening’ (1974–83, IV:358).
The satirical use of irony can be found in folklore. In the tale ‘Landlord and Afon’ka,’ a landlord asks a peasant about his village: ‘Well, are my dear peasants rich? Afon’ka: ‘We are, sir! Seven homesteads share one axe, and it is even without a handle.’ The entire dialogue develops in this vein. Afon’ka mocks his landlord and makes a laughing-stock of him. Several scenes of this type occur in Russian folklore; for example, assuring his master that everything is all right, a servant breaks the news to him that he is in fact ruined.4
In all the examples of puns, paradoxes, and irony that have just been analysed, the comic effect is created both by linguistic devices and by the content these devices denote. However, the comic can also be created by language, mainly by its sounds. Here the comic effect is created by diverting attention from the content of speech to its external forms, rendering it meaningless. In this regard, a phenomenon that could be referred to as speech physiologization technique should be examined, which involves depicting a person’s speech as being deprived of any meaning and consisting only of inarticulate sounds, particles, or words. The phenomenon of the absolute emptiness of speech is not comical in itself, but when combined with other techniques it strengthens the comic effect of characters. In The Government Inspector, the district doctor Christian Ivanovich Hiebner replies with some indistinct lowing to all the words addressed to him – ‘makes a sound somewhere in between “ee” and “eh”’ (1998, 251) – as he does not speak Russian. Gogol says about Akaky Akakievich: ‘I should point out that Akaky Akakievich expressed himself for the most part with the use of prepositions, adverbs, and all sorts of particles which have absolutely no meaning at all’ (122). Poor speech characterizes the speaker; which brings to mind the old woman Anfisa Tikhonovna in Ostrovsky’s comedy Wolves and Sheep, who can never explain anything and says only words like ‘Well, just, I will, just you know’ or ‘Well then, just stop it, just, now,’ etc. (1973–80, IV:163). This is accompanied by very limited and restricted vocabulary, and though speech in these instances is quite articulate and coherent it is also completely meaningless.
There’s quite a lot of flies in summer, Miss!’ utters Shponka whom his aunt has left alone with a young lady in order to marry him off to her afterwards. ‘An incredible lot!’ replies the young lady, and they cannot say anything else. (in ‘Ivan Fyodorovich Shponka and his Aunt,’ Gogol 1999, 129)
There is a similar scene in ‘Marriage’ between Agafya Tikhonovna and Podkolyosin, whom Kochkaryov wants to marry off in any way possible. Neither of them knows what to say, and their conversation is limited to phrases like these: ‘Tell me, mam’selle, what would be your favorite flower?’ ‘Who can say what sort of summer it’ll be?’ (1998, 231) and so forth. But Agafya Tikhonovna is very content with her date: ‘It was such a delight to talk with him!’ ‘I would have liked to listen to him some more’ (233).
In Russian literature, Ilf and Petrov5 use this technique of characterization very skilfully in The Twelve Chairs. In Chapter 12 of that novel, a girl named Ellochka the Man-Eater believes she is irresistible. Her vocabulary consists of just thirty words and expressions, which she uses in all situations. Those words and expressions, which she uses both to and beside the point, include ‘You are being rude,’ ‘ho-ho,’ ‘famous,’ ‘dismally,’ ‘Don’t teach me how to live,’ ‘I say!’ and ‘All your black is white.’ Opposite this is idle eloquence, where lack of content is hidden not behind a limited vocabulary, but behind an abundance of words in which all meaning is lost. Here is how Ivan Ivanovich’s eloquence is described in Gogol’s story about Ivan Ivanovich and Ivan Nikiforovich: ‘Lord, how he speaks! The feeling can only be compared with that of someone picking through your ear or gently passing a finger over your heel’ (1999, 197). The process of speaking gives the speaker and the listener physiological pleasure; no meaning is required. The eloquence of the card shark Uteshitelny [from the Russian consolatory] in ‘Gamblers’ serves as a smoke screen that hides his trickery.
The use of various professional or fixed jargons is part of the comic created by linguistic devices. The comic in these cases is not just verbal; it often accompanies the kind studied above in the chapter ‘The Comic of Difference.’ Strange or unusual speech distinguishes a person from others and marks him or her out in the same way as do strange clothes or unusual manners. For outsiders, the language or jargon of a caste sounds like meaningless verbiage, and in comedies it sometimes really is. This technique, which often has a satirical bent to it, can be found in the classics of early European drama. Shakespeare’s Merry Wives of Windsor begins with a scene in which the justice of the peace and the priest complain to each other about Falstaff. The judge speaks in legalese, interspersing his speech with Latin juridical terms that he does not understand. He uses them out of context, while the priest translates all the events into theological concepts and speaks in a corresponding jargon.
Molière sometimes shows doctors who speak medical gibberish using Latin words. An example is the peasant disguised as a doctor in The Doctor in Spite of Himself, who understands absolutely nothing about medicine. There is emptiness or a lack of medical knowledge behind his ‘medical’ Latin. One of the most brilliant parodies of officialese in Russian literature is the complaint written by Gogol’s Ivan Ivanovich against Ivan Nikiforovich to the Mirgorod local court: the official syntax and style alternate here with the writer’s own swear words, which betray him as a mean and slanderous person. Chekhov’s satirical pamphlet ‘A Lot of Paper (Archival Research)’ is different, as no specific person is ridiculed. The village headman, the chairman of the district council, the police officer, the district doctor, the teacher, and the school inspector exchange letters discussing the problem of closing down a school because of scarlet fever. This pamphlet is a satire on red tape. Since Chekhov was a doctor himself and used to be involved with rural schools, there is no doubt that everything here is true and accurate.
A scientist’s language can also be parodied. For example, in ‘Fruits of Education,’ Tolstoy parodies the speech of a professor who justifies spiritualism through pompous scientific language. In Chekhov’s short story ‘Ivan Matveyich,’ a famous Russian scientist dictates an article to his secretary: ‘The fact is … comma … that some so to speak fundamental forms … have you taken it down? … forms are conditioned entirely by the essential nature of those principles … comma … that find in them their expression and can only be embodied in them’ (1974–82, IV:371). The scientist’s secretary is a simple and poor fellow whose story, however, about catching tarantulas and about various events of his life is so fascinating that the scientist forgets about dictating. Life is more interesting and more important than the science represented by the scholar.
In Chekhov’s ‘A Wedding with a General’ (which was later turned into a one-act comic play, Wedding), a general invited to the wedding turns out to be not a general but a retired seaman whose surname is Revunov-Karaulov [from the Russian howler and sentry]. He stupefies the guests with reminiscences of his time in command. The story is interspersed with terms that the guests find incomprehensible, such as ‘royal sheets,’ ‘halyards,’ ‘braces,’ ‘parrels,’ ‘tuletants,’ etc. The title ‘A Wedding with a General’ was given by the publisher, though Chekhov had called the story ‘Little Blackmail.’
Scientific terminology can sometimes produce an unintentional comic effect similar to that caused by professional terms. When they pay attention only to the meaning of words, scientists sometimes fail to notice how they sound; listeners, who do not understand the meaning, hear only the sounds, which makes the words instantly funny. Verbal mistakes can also be comical if they expose a lack of thought. In this instance they are almost incongruous. For example, in Chekhov’s sketch ‘A Silly Woman, or the Retired Captain,’ the retired captain says about himself: ‘Who am I, when looking at me from the point of view? A solitary man … A kind of a synonym, and nothing else’ (1974–82, II:232). Other mistakes are comical because they expose the speaker’s lack of education and erudition. In Ryklin’s ‘Familiar Faces Everywhere’ (1958), we read: ‘If you could see what a nocturnemorte I have on my wall: a squeezed lemon, diet eggs and dried fruit.’
The sphere of the comic that can be achieved through verbal devices is extremely rich and varied. The subject of the comic of words having been examined, it is time to consider the names that authors of comedies and humorous stories give to their characters. An entire treatise could be written about comical names, but I will confine myself to some very brief observations. Several different types of comical names can be contemplated that allude to physical, moral, or psychological traits. Shakespeare was a master at this, though he seldom and only cautiously used the technique. For example, in The Taming of the Shrew there is a drunken tinker, Christopher Sly by name. ‘Sly,’ meaning ‘artful’ or ‘cunning.’ In other comedies we find names like ‘Shallow’ (not profound), ‘Simple’ (simpleton, silly), ‘Starveling’ (starving, skinny), etc.
Fonvizin used this technique consistently in his eighteenth-century comedy The Minor. Taras Skotinin [from the Russian beast], Mrs Prosta-kova [from the Russian simpleton], Kuteikin [from the Russian to carouse], Tsyfirkin [from the Russian numeral], and Vralman [from the Russian liar] are examples. Only names of negative characters are comical, for they emphasize flaws, whereas the names of positive ones (Pravdin [from the Russian truth], Starodum [from the Russian old + think], and Milon [from the Russian lovely] in The Minor, and Dobrolyubov [from the Russian the good + to love] in Brigadier) are not funny. Gogol uses these types of names very sparingly. In ‘Shponka,’ the grammar teacher is called Nikifor Timofeyevich Deyeprichastie [from the Russian adverbial participle]. In this author’s works, a person’s character is sometimes encoded in his or her name in a way less implicit than in Fonvizin’s. Names like Khlestakov [from the Russian to lash], Skvoznik-Dmukhanovsky [the first part reminds one of the Russian draught, the second incorporates the word a fly], Derzhimorda [from the Russian hold! + muzzle], Sobakevich [from the Russian dog], and Manilov [from the Russian to lure] undoubtedly convey the character of their bearers to some extent. The surname Rastakovsky can be included as well if the syllable ‘Ras’ is perceived as an intensifier (Takovsky [from the Russian such], thus Rastakovsky). In ‘The Nose,’ the name of the field officer’s widow, Pelageya Grigoryev-na Podtochina [from the Russian to eat away or to gnaw], is also slightly comical. The comic effect can be achieved by means of contrast when a negative character has a name that points to some positive qualities. In ‘Gamblers,’ one of the cardsharps has the surname Uteshitelny [from the Russian consolatory].
Some comical names associate characters with animals, and especially with things, for reasons indicated earlier. The most unexpected names can be found; for example, Shakespeare has characters named Flute, Elbow, Bottom, Froth, etc., and Gogol also frequently uses this device. A few names, such as Korobochka [from the Russian small box], Pyotr Petrovich Petukh [from the Russian rooster], Ivan Koleso [from the Russian wheel], etc., can be mentioned. In Gogol’s works, characters are even named after dishes – for example, Ivan Pavlovich Yaichnitsa [from the Russian fried/scrambled eggs] and Artemy Filippovich Zemlyanika [from the Russian strawberry]. Sometimes names remind us of things, thus strengthening the comic effect, for example, Lieutenant Kuvshinnikov’s name [from the Russian jug], and names of serfs such as Cow Brick and Doesn’t Respect the Trough.
Finally, the comicality of some names is based on clustering together identical sounds, especially consonants. Such a set of sounds is comical regardless of its meaning and makes names funny, for example, Daudet’s Tartarin de Tarascon and Dickens’s Mr Pickwick. These sorts of names can often be found in Gogol’s works: Akaky Akakievich Bashmachkin, Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov, Fyodor Andreyevich Lyulyukov, etc. Paired characters are sometimes given almost identical names: Bobchinsky and Dobchinsky, Ivan Ivanovich and Ivan Nikiforovich, Kifa Mokiyevich and Mokiy Kifovich. In Gogol’s works, first names are often derived from the family names of the characters themselves. The town governor is called Anton Antonovich, his daughter Marya Antonovna. Some sounds from first names and family names can also be repeated in surnames: Pyotr Petrovich Petukh.
The phonetic aspect of names is emphasized by the use of foreign names or names that are very rare in Russian tradition, for example, Baltazar Baltazarovich Zhevakin in ‘Marriage.’ From Dead Souls: ‘Some Sysoy Pafnutievich and Makdonald Karlovich appeared’ (Gogol 1997, 193). Foreign surnames have a comic effect especially when they are difficult for Russians to pronounce, for example, Polish, Georgian, and English surnames. Among those dancing at the governor’s ball we see ‘the Georgian prince Chipkhaikhilidzev … the Frenchman Coucou Perkhunovsky, Berebendovsky’ (165). In Saltykov-Shchedrin’s Modern Idyll there is the surname Kszepszycjulski. In Chekhov’s short story ‘A Daughter of Albion,’ a quiet, imperturbable Englishwoman is described as paying no attention to her master, who gets into the water naked to free up a fish hook. ‘And do you know what her name is? Wilka Charles-ovna Yvice! Ugh! I can’t even say it properly!’ (1982, 20).
The use of comical names is a stylistic technique that strengthens the comic effect of a situation, character, or plot. In Gogol’s works, the entire register of names is used in every possible way to create a comic effect, which is his only reason for mentioning them. In the story about the quarrel between Ivan Ivanovich and Ivan Nikiforovich, all the guests of the town governor are enumerated with their full names, among them Taras Tarasovich, Evpl Akinfovich, Evtikhy Evtikhievich, Elevfery Elevferievich, and others (1999, 231). In ‘The Overcoat,’ the name for the newborn is chosen from the church calendar. One day it is Mokkey, Sossy, and Khozdazat, another day Trifilly, Dula, and Varakhasy (1998, 116). The mother prefers to name the newborn after his father, and he is named Akaky. In Dead Souls, names of Nozdryov’s friends are listed, among them Field Captain Potseluev [from the Russian kiss] and Lieutenant Kuvshin-nikov [from the Russian jug]. Gogol attaches special importance to the registers of the souls bought by Chichikov. In the city, before signing the deed of purchase, Chichikov looks through those lists once again and wonders about them. One can even detect a rhythm when these strange names are enumerated.
In Chekhov’s works, names are related to the qualities and the social status of those whom they designate. For example: fiancé Epaminond Maksimovich Aplombov [from the Russian aplomb], Commander Revu-nov-Karaulov [from the Russian howler and sentry], midwife Zmeyukina [from the Russian snake], merchant Plevkov [from the Russian spittle], innkeeper Samopluyev [from the Russian himself + to spit], landowners Gadyukin [from the Russian adder] and Shilokhvostov [from the Russian pintail], impresario Indyukov [from the Russian turkey], the uninvited guests with an excellent appetite Drobiskulov [from the Russian smash + cheekbone] and Prekrasnovkusov [from the Russian excellent + taste], and others.
Each author has his own style for using this technique as the comicality of names is not uniform; however, it generally falls under the categories of the comic defined above. Names are usually only the accompanying rather than the main technique for creating the comic. The main techniques consist in depicting the characters, the plot, the conflict, etc., that are inherent in the writer’s linguistic style. However, a study of an author’s style, even that of a humorist, is beyond the scope of this book. Language is essential for creating comicality, and the degree of a writer’s talent is determined not only by his “technique” but also by his style. For example, Gogol is a genius not only because he is a master of the comic, but also because of his language, or rather his style, which never fails to excite and delight the reader. One can always immediately recognize a phrase by Gogol, and his characters’ speech, which is remarkable for its complete naturalness, flow, and simplicity. He never hastens to make the reader laugh, and neither does his narrator. However, no narrators speak in comedies, only characters do. If they speak a colourless and insipid language, the comedy loses its effect; hence their language should be both typical and striking. When the vividness of language is discussed, the major attributes that come to mind are ‘colourful’ and ‘expressive’. Intellectuals’ speech in everyday life is known as a rule to be rather colourless, as determined by the fact that an intellectual thinks with abstract categories and speaks accordingly. In contrast, the middle class as well as ordinary people engaged in physical labour often do speak figuratively and expressively. Their speech, which is determined by visual images, can be tentatively termed ‘folk speech,’ and humorists achieve their purpose only if they have mastered all of its peculiarities and niceties. Nineteenth- and twentieth-century comedies mainly portray ordinary people, whose speech was overheard by the authors.
Besides Gogol, Ostrovsky in his plays was a master of the rich and colourful language spoken by the common people. Where a person whose speech is colourless would say, ‘He is not a good match for you,’ Ostrov-sky’s old woman expresses it in a different way: ‘He doesn’t match you for a quadrille at all.’ When a husband wants to make his wife leave the room, he does not say: ‘Leave the room,’ but ‘Off you go, beyond the railway-crossing gate!’ On closer examination of these two examples, we can see that colourless speech operates using concepts, whereas colourful speech uses visual images. I will confine myself to these brief observations, as it was important to show that expressiveness of language is an important factor in creating a comic effect.