The Soul of Wit

Brevity is always a quality of writing and film I’ve admired. To be honest, I sometimes close my eyes just so that I can internally roll them whenever a fellow student complains about not being able to fit all of their analysis/observations/feelings into only ten pages. As much as I do love to write, being concise has never really been a problem for me. I also find myself never being able to sit still for longer than about an hour and a half — so needless to say, I’m dreading the four hour documentary I have to watch for a class tomorrow.

Probably the master of the minimalist writing craft is the great Ernest Hemingway. In fact, he is often cited as writing the famous six-word story: “For sale: baby shoes. Never worn.”

And these two short sentences are a story. Yes, he is leaving it up to the reader to fill in the details — what happened? Was there actually a baby? Did s/he die? Or was a woman hoping to conceive, but unsuccessful in her attempts? There are many options, and ultimately, Hemingway is entrusting his audience to create their own prologues and epilogues for the scene to which he alludes. However, he does maintain overall control of his story because the six words are still able to evoke emotion within the reader, regardless of what explanation for the shoes they come up with. It is nearly impossible to consider a situation in which this anecdote is a joyful one. In their simplicity and gravity, the words carry so much weight.

And while creating a story in six words is impressive, I saw a similar distillation strategy employed in the National Gallery of Canada last spring. There was this exhibition of significant Canadian figures — be they activists, celebrities, politicians, etc. Next to their portraits on the walls, they had short bios, which began by giving the reader three words to describe the person. This one was my favorite:

“Goalie. Innovator. Knitter.

Goaltender Jacques Plante once said that playing goal was like being shot at. Plante, who led the Montreal Canadiens to six Stanley Cup wins, took action to protect himself. In 1959, he changed the face of professional hockey when he skated onto the ice wearing a fiberglass mask. Off ice, Plante spent much of his spare time knitting, which he claimed helped to calm his nerves.”

Now, although I may have normally seen the word “Goaltender” and walked right by, as sports of any type are not exactly my forte, I was immediately hooked into reading the paragraph below because I wanted to know what he innovated and why he knitted. I learned something about a person that I may have overlooked if it had not been for the short and carefully-chosen description that drew me in.