Reviews for Voilà

The average rating for Voilà based on 2 reviews is 3.5 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2018-08-19 00:00:00 Adam Hibner A TUTOR WHO TOOTED THE FLUTE TRIED TO TUTOR TWO TOOTERS TO TOOT. SAID THE TWO TO THE TUTOR: “IS IT HARDER TO TOOT OR TO TUTOR TWO TOOTERS TO TOOT?” Misery loves drollery! So seems to have said the Victorian gent Edward Lear, who was plagued by major illnesses all of his life... Grand mal epilepsy, asthma, near-blindness, and severe depression were his poor lot in life (though it didn't stop him from pursuing a respectable career in drafting and illustration). And, incredibly, he was the Father of the Limerick (but who knows if he penned that childhood limerick we all love, Two TOOTERS?).. But definitely not the risqué type. For Edward lived in a polite era, and wrote ne’er a naughty word. His limericks are sheer nonsense - all as fluffy as freshly-made meringue - in contrast to the hardened, baked crust that sealed off his days with gloom. If he had seen the crude limericks of twenty first-century schoolkids he would have rued the day he made this artform a polite household word. No, folks - his limericks are not based on groping double entendres. They’re brought on by a profound appreciation of life’s tragedies, and these are his harmless escape from them! We’ve said that Lear had more than his share of things to complain about. Well, that suffering turned his view of life around... in a miraculous “sea-change/ into something rich and strange” as the Bard’s oft-quoted song sings. For he had discovered the Absurd. People afflicted with the Absurd express it in widely varying ways... Camus embraced the Life Force completely and defiantly, as long as he had it. Sartre turned to dark philosophy and grim petulance. Mallarme went them one better in reaction, and became the unlikely Resident Sylph of the higher Abstract Realms of great poetry. But Lear, like me, saw the wisdom of the ancient, tried and true sage wisdom: “what can ya do about it? Ya gotta LAUGH!” Haha. And laugh he did. Sure, like Pessoa, he knew disquiet. For that’s endemic to the Absurd. But did he cry? Sure, buckets! Did he complain? Plenty, but no one’s ever listening. But he knew when the Law barks at you, as it’s been known to do, ‘Better Keep in Line!’ he’d better play in tune - on the Lighter Side! Now THAT’s socially acceptable. And a boon to the similarly afflicted! But he even did the Law one better on that score, for, after all, like Ionesco and Pirandello he saw the Law as Absurdly Hilarious, and he relaxed his audience - by being old-fashioned and corny. Now here’s a harmless and talented guy, they all said... Because these rhymes are all such trite nonsense, I've given them 3 stars. I expected BELLY laughs, and only managed strained polite smiles for the most part, such as Edward would have received from his prim lady friends. But you can put that down to my paltry pension budget and my grimmer senior’s outlook. And often, in finding a deal I’m quickly disappointed. This book is a budget buy of a bygone year, but if you’re parsimonious like I am, you try to give each mistake another chance, and take it down from the shelf again. And Lear is Lear, and this book takes me right back to that day in our middle school library when I opened these limericks as something to memorize and entertain my chums with. I had bought a supermarket mini-paperback of rhymes in the summer of ‘62 and never for a moment expected it to be ribald and sassy... yikes! So that fall, back in school, I whiled away one library period with my memorizing Lear. What a kid I was. In the spring I even memorized Macauley’s rhyme about Horatio at the Bridge. You don’t see THAT in schoolbooks in these with-it days! And Lear, at least in Grade 8, was fun too. It was a more widely-inclusive selection of rhymes than this one... But given the sheer weight of care and darkness this man must have lived under, it's a wonder he could have any fun at all! And WE are of course the clear winners in receiving the gift of that drollery from him. Especially the KIDS at heart among us!

Review # 2 was written on 2010-09-15 00:00:00 William Silver I grew up reading A Book of Nonsense, which left me with a permanent weakness for limericks. (It's possible that there were other side-effects too). Here's my favourite Lear:There was an old man of Thermopylae Who never did anything properly But they said, if you choose To boil eggs in your shoes You will never remain in Thermopylae!I'm afraid I kept thinking of this all the way through 300, which did rather take the edge off it. Though to be honest, the art of the limerick has advanced significantly since Lear's pioneering efforts - a major breakthrough was realising that the first and last lines didn't have to end with the same word. Some more favourites:There was a young fellow named Tate Who dined with his girl, at 8.08 But I'd hate to relate What that fellow named Tate And his tête-à-tête ate at 8.08. She frowned and called him Mr. Because he boldly Kr. And so in spite That very night That Mr. Kr. Sr.(Non-Brits may have trouble with the next example)There was a young curate from Salisbury Whose manners were quite halisbury-scalisbury Once morning in Hampshire He took off his pampshire Though his vicar had told him to walisburyLast and, in a certain sense, least, I only discovered the following sequence of minimalist limericks very recently. I'm surprised it isn't more famous! First:There was a young lady of Crewe Whose limericks stopped at line twoHaving read that, you'll hopefully appreciate the logical continuation:There was a young man of VerdunAnd then, of course there's the third one. It appears that limerick technology is still advancing...