Oh, the Irony!
In my upcoming novel, Of Gilded Flesh, I have a chapter titled “Of Love and Irony,” wherein I write: There lies the irony of Anna’s love: She adores men for their passion of things greater than her. She would be more than happy to be second or even third on a list. Yet, her love always seems to be a question waiting for an answer that never comes.
This isn't the first time I've made reference to the ironic in my writing, whether it be in a blog post or a novel. But it isn't until recently that I've wondered if I even understand what irony is, and if I'm using it correctly.
The Oxford English Reference Dictionary defines irony thus: 1.) an expression of meaning, often humorous or sarcastic, by the use of language of a different or opposite tendency; 2.) an ill-timed or perverse arrival of an event or circumstance that is in itself desirable; 3.) a literary technique in which the audience can perceive hidden meanings unknown to the characters.
Well, that doesn't seem to help much. Let me consult my friend Roget: irony n. double meaning, contradiction, sarcasm, incongruity, paradox, satire, mocking, lampoon, twist, wit.
That's better. And now, as Ethan Hawke's character in Reality Bites so concisely puts it: "When the actual meaning is the complete opposite of the literal meaning."
Dramatic irony is found within a speech or situation that is understood by the audience but not apparent to the characters, like when Oedipus Rex is unaware that he is very cause of the suffering he so profoundly condemns. Situational irony is when an outcome is different than what was expected, which is the soul of comedy.
Okay. Now, some examples:
Posting something on Twitter about how pointless Twitter is.
Laughing at someone tripping on a step, and then doing the same yourself.
A car parked in front of a "No Parking" sign.
The fear of long words: Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia.
When misused, irony may look something like:
"How ironic that I keep running into you!"
"It's such a warm, sunny day for November."
"Ironically, it's the best book I've read all year."
And let's pick on Alanis Morissette, shall we? From comic Sabrina Matthews:
"Isn't it ironic? No, Alanis, it's unfortunate. Yeah, that's too bad. Rain on your wedding day. You know, that's not completely unexpected. That's not an ironic twist of fate. That's just a @#!*ing bummer...irony is not a black fly in your Chardonnay. Irony is a Scotsman cloning a sheep. Irony is naming an airport after the President who fired all the air-traffic controllers. Irony is everywhere, Alanis. You can fill a song."
My process of writing has always been more intuitive than educated. I'm stylistically clumsy because I can't tell you the difference between a clause and a predicate. I'm never certain whether or not I'm correctly using a comma, or a semi-colon, or an exclamation point. I have no idea what a dangling participle is. And still, as I reach the end of this post, I can't tell if the excerpt above from my book is an acceptable reference to irony or not.
Here's something ironic: the more I write, the less I seem to understand about writing. And the more I wonder if I should even bother anymore.
Gordon Gravley