This is the first sentence of this story. This is the second
sentence. This is the title of this story, which is also found
several times in the story itself. This sentence is questioning
the intrinsic value of the first two sentences. This sentence
is to inform you, in case you haven't already realized it, that
this is a self-referential story, that is, a story containing
sentences that refer to their own structure and function. This
is a sentence that provides an ending to the first paragraph.
This is the first sentence of a new paragraph in a self-referential
story. This sentence is introducing you to the protagonist of
the story, a young boy named Billy. This sentence is telling you
that Billy is blond and blue-eyed and American and twelve years
old and strangling his mother. This sentence comments on the awkward
nature of the self-referential narrative form while recognizing
the strange and playful detachment it affords the writer. As if
illustrating the point made by the last sentence, this sentence
reminds us, with no trace of facetiousness, that children are
a precious gift from God and that the world is a better place
when graced by the unique joys and delights they bring to it.
This sentence describes Billy's mother's bulging eyes and protruding
tongue and makes reference to the unpleasant choking and gagging
noises she's making. This sentence makes the observation that
these are uncertain and difficult times, and that relationships,
even seemingly deep-rooted and permanent ones, do have a tendency
to break down.
Introduces, in this paragraph, the device of sentence fragments.
A sentence fragment. Another. Good device. Will be used more later.
This is actually the last sentence of the story but has been
placed here by mistake. This is the title of this story, which
is also found several times in the story itself. As Gregor Samsa
awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself in his bed
transformed into a gigantic insect. This sentence informs you
that the preceding sentence is from another story entirely (a
much better one, it must be noted) and has no place at all in
this particular narrative. Despite the claims of the preceding
sentence, this sentence feels compelled to inform you that the
story you are reading is in actuality "The Metamorphosis"
by Franz Kafka, and that the sentence referred to by the preceding
sentence is the only sentence which does indeed belong
in this story. This sentence overrides the preceding sentence
by informing the reader (poor, confused wretch) that this piece
of literature is actually the Declaration of Independence, but
that the author, in a show of extreme negligence (if not malicious
sabotage), has so far failed to include even one single sentence
from that stirring document, although he has condescended to use
a small sentence fragment, namely, "When in the course
of human events", embedded in quotation marks near the end
of a sentence. Showing a keen awareness of the boredom and downright
hostility of the average reader with regard to the pointless conceptual
games indulged in by the preceding sentences, this sentence
returns us at last to the scenario of the story by asking the
question, "Why is Billy strangling his mother?" This
sentence attempts to shed some light on the question posed by
the preceding sentence but fails. This sentence, however,
succeeds, in that it suggests a possible incestuous relationship
between Billy and his mother and alludes to the concomitant Freudian
complications any astute reader will immediately envision. Incest.
The unspeakable taboo. The universal prohibition. Incest. And
notice the sentence fragments? Good literary device. Will be used
more later.
This is the first sentence in a new paragraph. This is the last
sentence in a new paragraph.
This sentence can serve as either the beginning of the paragraph
or the end, depending on its placement. This is the title of his
story, which is also found several times in the story itself.
This sentence raises a serious objection to the entire class of
self-referential sentences that merely comment on their own function
or placement within the story (e.g., the preceding four
sentences), on the grounds that they are monotonously predictable,
unforgivably self-indulgent, and merely serve to distract the
reader from the real subject of this story, which at this point
seems to concern strangulation and incest and who knows what other
delightful topics. The purpose of this sentence is to point out
that the preceding sentence, while not itself a member of the
class of self-referential sentences it objects to, nevertheless
also serves merely to distract the reader from the real
subject of this story, which actually concerns Gregor Samsa's
inexplicable transformation into a gigantic insect (despite the
vociferous counterclaims of other well-meaning although misinformed
sentences). This sentence can serve as either the beginning of
a paragraph or the end, depending on its placement.
This is the title of this story, which is also found several
times in the story itself. This is almost the title of
the story, which is found only once in the story itself. This
sentence regretfully states that up to this point the self-referential
mode of narrative has had a paralyzing effect on the actual progress
of the story itself-that is, these sentences have been so concerned
with analyzing themselves and their role in the story that they
have failed by and large to perform their function as communicators
of events and ideas that one hopes coalesce into a plot, character
development, etc.-in short, the very raisons d 'etre of
any respectable, hardworking sentence in the midst of a piece
of compelling prose fiction. This sentence in addition points
out the obvious analogy between the plight of these agonizingly
self-aware sentences and similarly afflicted human beings, and
it points out the analogous paralyzing effects wrought by excessive
and tortured self-examination.
The purpose of this sentence (which can also serve as a paragraph)
is to speculate that if the Declaration of Independence had been
worded and structured as lackadaisically and incoherently as this
story has been so far, there's no telling what kind of warped
libertine society we'd be living in now or to what depths of decadence
the inhabitants of this country might have sunk, even to the point
of deranged and debased writers constructing irritatingly cumbersome
and needlessly prolix sentences that sometimes possess the questionable
if not downright undesirable quality of referring to themselves
and they sometimes even become run-on sentences or exhibit other
signs of inexcusably sloppy grammar like unneeded superfluous
redundancies that almost certainly would have insidious effects
on the lifestyle and morals of our impressionable youth, leading
them to commit incest or even murder and maybe that's why
Billy is strangling his mother, because of sentences just like
this one, which have no discernible goals or perspicuous purpose
and just end up anywhere, even in mid
Bizarre. A sentence fragment. Another fragment. Twelve years
old. This is a sentence that. Fragmented. And strangling his mother.
Sorry, sorry. Bizarre. This. More fragments. This is it. Fragments.
The title of this story, which. Blond. Sorry, sorry. Fragment
after fragment. Harder. This is a sentence that. Fragments. Damn
good device.
The purpose of this sentence is threefold: (1) to apologize for
the unfortunate and inexplicable lapse exhibited by the preceding
paragraph; (2) to assure you, the reader, that it will not happen
again; and (3) to reiterate the point that these are uncertain
and difficult times and that aspects of language, even seemingly
stable and deeply rooted ones such as syntax and meaning, do break
down. This sentence adds nothing substantial to the sentiments
of the preceding sentence but merely provides a concluding sentence
to this paragraph, which otherwise might not have one.
This sentence, in a sudden and courageous burst of altruism,
tries to abandon the self-referential mode but fails. This sentence
tries again, but the attempt is doomed from the start.
This sentence, in a last-ditch attempt to infuse some iota of
story line into this paralyzed prose piece, quickly alludes to
Billy's frantic cover-up attempts, followed by a lyrical, touching,
and beautifully written passage wherein Billy is reconciled with
his father (thus resolving the subliminal Freudian conflicts obvious
to any astute reader) and a final exciting police chase scene
during which Billy is accidentally shot and killed by a panicky
rookie policeman who is coincidentally named Billy. This sentence,
although basically in complete sympathy with the laudable efforts
of the preceding action-packed sentence, reminds the reader that
such allusions to a story that doesn't, in fact, yet exist are
no substitute for the real thing and therefore will not get the
author (indolent goof-off that he is) off the proverbial hook.
Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph.
Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph.
Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph.
The purpose. Of this paragraph. Is to apologize. For its gratuitous
use. Of. Sentence fragments. Sorry.
The purpose of this sentence is to apologize for the pointless
and silly adolescent games indulged in by the preceding two paragraphs,
and to express regret on the part of us, the more mature sentences,
that the entire tone of this story is such that it can't seem
to communicate a simple, albeit sordid, scenario.
This sentence wishes to apologize for all the needless apologies
found in this story (this one included), which, although placed
here ostensibly for the benefit of the more vexed readers, merely
delay in a maddeningly recursive way the continuation of the by-now
nearly forgotten story line.
This sentence is bursting at the punctuation marks with news
of the dire import of self-reference as applied to sentences.
a practice that could prove to be a veritable Pandora's box of
potential havoc, for if a sentence can refer or allude to itself,
why not a lowly subordinate clause, perhaps this very clause?
Or this sentence fragment? Or three words? Two words? One?
Perhaps it is appropriate that this sentence gently and with
no trace of condescension remind us that these are indeed difficult
and uncertain times and that in general people just aren't nice
enough to each other, and perhaps we, whether sentient human beings
or sentient sentences, should just try harder. I mean,
there is such a thing as free will, there has to
be, and this sentence is proof of it! Neither this sentence nor
you, the reader, is completely helpless in the face of all the
pitiless forces at work in the universe. We should stand our ground,
face facts, take Mother Nature by the throat and just try harder.
By the throat. Harder. Harder, harder.
Sorry.
This is the title of this story, which is also found several
times in the story itself.
This is the last sentence of the story. This is the last sentence
of the story. This is the last sentence of the story. This is.
Sorry.
-- David Moser
Scientific American
(reprinted in Metamagical Themas by Douglas Hofstadter)
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