TIGHT LINES
with Andrew Spencer

GOING MEDIEVAL

Aperiod, in the grammatical sense, is not a major thing. When you get right down to it, it's a dot without the "dot-com" connotation. But, when you really, really get right down to it, a period is so much more than just a dot. In its most basic form, a period serves to indicate the end of a thought. That dot right up there is what I'm talking about.

There it is again.

And yeah, we could play this game all day if I really wanted to, but I don't.

Moving right along, the importance of the seemingly lowly period comes to light when one reads a medieval manuscript such as Chaucer's "The Canterbury Tales" in the original context. And, if you're like many people, you're wondering what, exactly, medieval texts have to do with the importance of punctuation. I, for one, am glad you asked.

You see, friends and neighbors, medieval texts didn't have modern punctuation. In other words, they didn't have any periods. Again, nothing too crazy here, as that's one of those things that any medievalist worth his or her salt knows. But it gets interesting when you consider that modern editors have taken it upon themselves to insert punctuation into updated versions of "The Canterbury Tales," which means that, in some cases, they've had to make some tough choices. In at least one instance, too, they've made an incorrect choice. Consider the following from the General Prologue (and yes, it's in Middle English, with modern editors' punctuation thrown in ... that's kind of the point):

"An haberdasshere and a carpenter, a webbe, a dyere, and a tapycer, and they were clothed alle in o lyveree of a solempne and a greet fraternitee. Ful fressh and newe hir geere apiked was; hir knyves were chaped noght with bras but al with silver" (GP, 361-367).

Now a little background and a translation, then you're ready for "Jeopardy." Chaucer was a big fan of satire, and he was an especially big fan of taking pot shots at the emerging middle class of nouveau riche who were increasingly common in the Middle Ages. Now consider the passage above that is about what are commonly called "the Guildsmen." The translation reads, "A haberdasher and a carpenter, a weaver, a dyer, and a tailor, and they were dressed in the uniform of a solemn and great fraternity. Their gear was decorated in a very new and modern way; their knives were covered not with brass, but all with silver."

Yeah, that's all well and good, but think about this alternative: ". . . they were dressed in the uniform of a solemn and great fraternity that was entirely new. Their gear was decorated not with brass, but with silver."

In other words, you move that period a few words over, and you change the entire meaning of the passage. You go from talking about some working class stiffs who have gaudy knives to a group of middle-classers (those pesky "new" people) that Chaucer thought were too "uppity" who are being all flashy with their silver knives. So that little dot is a whole lot more important than it seems at first glance; those details are oh-so-important. Kind of like when you're fishing.

Whan that Hoketober with his segues soote . . .

Buried in a library somewhere in Texas is an academic article I wrote in graduate school that deals with this exact topic. And before you start waxing poetic about how glamorous my life really is, let me tell you that the article you are reading right now is so much more profound. Fishing is all about details, especially at this time of year when things are slowing down. Recently I heard a report from a guy who couldn't understand why he wasn't catching false albacore at Great Point. After all, he was fishing with the same-sized Deadly Dick as his neighbor, and wasn't more than forty feet down the beach from him. The neighbor was catching fish hand-over-fist, while this poor little piggy caught none.

After a little detective work, the mystery was solved. The fish-less angler was using a big wire leader and a green-sided Deadly Dick. His neighbor, it turns out, was using no wire leader on a bluesided lure. Little things like that can make the difference when you're dealing with late-season fish that have been there and done that.

So if you find yourself out at the beach with nothing to show for it while those around you seem to have the Midas Touch, figure out what you're doing differently. Because while sometimes being different is good, conformity is best when it means catching fish.

And in the unlikely event that nobody on the beach is catching anything, now you're armed with the information you need to dazzle 'em with your interpretation of modern editorial failures in "The Canterbury Tales."

Tight lines.

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