Art and literature would miss out without the rude language of everyday life share examples of the quality quotes that would fall foul of Putin
If Vladimir Putin gets his way and he tends to any book published in Russia that contains "foul language" will soon have to be sold in a sealed package and marked with a warning. Swearwords will also be banned and fines issued to anyone who sneaks them into films, plays, music gigs and any other public performances, according to the law passed this week by the lower house of the Russian parliament.
Not only is vulgar slang a vital component of Russian literature and art, but the clampdown is completely preposterous per se, argued Irvine Welsh
It seems to be an attempt to erase and/or marginalise certain cultures, ie the working class, the ghetto, and so on. Language is a living, organic thing. If you start to try to control that and prescribe what people say, the next thing is prescribing what people think.
Jenni Fagan's The Panopticon gets top marks just for the swearing. I mean, really, this is top-tier stuff: profane, inventive, funny and gob-smackingly offensive. I'm not being facetious: dialect is hard to get right and can be hard to balance. Fagan has a great ear for dialogue and has captured Lothian/Edinburgh Scots perfectly (and, yes, that means a huge amount of profanity). Coming from the area, there was an extra pleasure for me in reading familiar words, some of which I hadn't heard since school, e.g. spraffing, shan, chore, ken, ay (pronounced like a capital A) used as an interrogative, the word "how?" used to mean "why?" and something giving you the boak).
For those French-reading or -speaking Guardian fans, Figaro's unforgettable foray into the English language in Beaumarchais's "Le Mariage de Figaro" :
(Acte III: sc. 5)
The Count: Premièrement, tu ne sais pas l'anglais.
Figaro: je sais God-dam.
Count: Je n'entends pas.
Figaro: Je dis que je sais God-dam...Diable! c'est une belle langue que l'anglais! il en faut peu pour aller loin. Avec God-dam, en Angleterre, on ne manque de rien nulle part. -- Voulez-vous tâter d'un bon poulet gras: entrez dans une taverne, et faites seulement ce geste au garçon (Il tourne la broche). God-dam! on vous apporte un pied de boeuf salé, sans pain. C'est admirable! Aimer-vous à boire un coup d'excellent bourgogne ou de clairet: rien que celui-ci. (Il débouche une bouteille). God-dam! on vous sert un pot de bière, en bel étain, la mousse aux bords. Quelle satisfaction! Rencontrez-vous une de ces jolies personnes qui vont trottant menu, les yeux baissés, coudes en arrière, et tortillant un peu des hanches: mettez mignardement tous les doigts unis sur la bouche. Ah! God-dam! elle vous sangle un soufflet de crocheteur: preuve qu'elle entend. Les Anglais, à la vérité, ajoutent par-ci, par-là, quelques autres mots en conversant; mis il est bien aisé de voir que God-dam est le fond de la langue...
'No One Writes to the Colonel' by Gabriel García Márquez (last lines)
And meanwhile what do we eat? she asked and seized the colonel by the collar of his flannel night shirt. She shook him hard.
Mistress Overdone- How now! what's the news with you
Pompey- Yonder man is carried to prison.
In th' isle of Britain, long since famous grown
For breeding the best cunts in Christendom,
There reigns, and oh! long may he reign and thrive,
The easiest King and best-bred man alive.
Him no ambition moves to get renown
Like the French fool, that wanders up and down
Starving his people, hazarding his crown.
Peace is his aim, his gentleness is such,
And love he loves, for he loves fucking much.
That's Rochester on Charles II - and it's one of his milder pieces. No chance of familiarity dulling the impact, though: the language of 'A Ramble in St James's Park' can still horrify the unwary.
Continuing the Scottish theme above, Alasdair Gray's second novel 1982, Janine contains a vast amount of swearing - probably the highlight is during the main character Jock McLeish's attempted suicide and delerium towards the end of the book.
Jock's mental disintegration is reflected in this chapter in crazy typography, which includes both vast amounts of swearing and (if memory serves) an obsession with upside-down letter Ys and their perceived resemblance to spread female legs. Vulgarity in both the meaning of words and the appearance of the print used to form them - but an excellent novel.
It's towards the end of the book and some pretty traumatic things have happened. Anais, the main character, is in yet more trouble for badly beating up a local girl and is due to be sent away from The Panopticon the current unit she's in. A group of younger children have just arrived at the home for a visit and Anais, somewhat unwillingly, is befriended by one of the little girls. They are sitting outside:
"So d'ye get tae leave soon and get a house?" She squints up at me.
"Hopefully."
"Why hopefully?"
"Well, they want me tae stay on a few years, maybe until I'm eighteen."
Alice is horrified. "Why?"
"Cos. I did some bad things."
"Did you say some bad words?"
"Aye."
"Like shit?"
"Dinnae say that!" I laugh at her.
"Like fuck?" she asks me, her eyes going round. "Did you say cunty-balls?"
"Uh-huh, stuff like that."
"I bet you didnae mean it, though," she says, and picks up a stone and throws it. "I can tell you didnae mean it. D'you want me tae tell them for you?"
"No, it's okay," I say.
She leans in against me.
@GuardianBooks ..or with more style: Thou clay-brained guts, thou knotty-pated fool,thou whoreson obscene greasy tallow-catch! Shakespeare
@guardian@guardianbooks"They're in love. Fuck the war." Thomas Pynchon in Gravity's Rainbow. #Pynchion2014
@GuardianBooks The Catcher in the Rye, The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, On The Road, The Naked Lunch, In Cold Blood...
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