E And Its Discontents

E pluribus unum indeed! In this case, one of twenty-six, and the fifth one at that!

But does twenty-six count as many? Well, it depends on what your counting doesn't it: twenty-six letters? Yes, I suppose it's enough to be going on with. But twenty-six dollars? No, that's not very much at all - although, of course, it is a relatively large amount if you are a homeless bum on the street. So, in conclusion, at the end of the day, when all is said and done, we can declare with absolute certainty and confidence in the majestic totality of our combined intellects that it is all much of a muchness really.

E is also the Cockney Londoner's word for a male personage, as in the following phrase: 'E's gahn dahn the bleedin' pub, ain't 'e. And bearing that fascinating E-fact in mind, it is worth noting that the old Hebrew's knew the letter E as "He" - which was also their sign meaning "window", which is exactly the thing that a cockney climbs through when he is breaking into your house to steal your silver. Hence the old Cockney Hebrew saying: 'E crept in through the bleedin' He, didn't 'e.

Phew, the logic is exhausting!

Anyway, that about wraps it up for E, except of course to say that you can e-mail me if you disagree with any of the profound wisdom I have imparted to you today.

Comments

[Out'r Lyf]

You're onto something with the cockney stuff: "E" is a commoner's letter, being the commenest of letters.

That's what makes Georges Perec's novel La Disparition so impressive: it's an elaborate lipogram, completely omitting the letter "e" (except, of course, for the author's name on the title page).

[stephenesque]

Interesting. I never read Perec's book, having really hated "Life A Users Manual". But I was quite interested in Oulipo or whatever it is called for a while, sinceI did enjoy the novels of Harry Mathews who, like Perec, was a member of that odd literary organization.

[Out'r Lyf]

Lipogram fans and/or "e" haters should also check out Ernest Vincent Wright's Gadsby (1939), another book omitting the letter "e".

In the immortal "e"-less words of Mr. Wright, who died the day Gadsby was published: "If youth, throughout all history, had a champion to stand up for it; to show a doubting world that a child can think; and, possibly, do it practically; you wouldn't constantly run across folks today who claim that 'a child don't know anything.'"

[i, squub]

A Capital E looks like a window, except it's broken on the right side, so it looks as if your cockney's already been through it. I hope the cat doesn't get out.