Addressing Concerns About the Profanity in My Tree Book
I'm follow in the footsteps of the S*** Giants of yore.
I’m hoping to mitigate some of the general public’s fears about the profanity in my book, Must Love Trees: An Unconventional Guide. Is this book safe for sensitive eyes? Yes. Is it safe for children? Yes.
But, as a parent, you may find yourself doing a little verbal editing, like my third grade teacher Ms. Schaefer did when she glossed over the word “silly-ass” in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, which I then pointed out, for which I was then escorted to the principal’s office. The 90s, man.
Using profanity isn’t common in nature writing, but it is common in comedy writing. So I split the difference since my book is a combination of both. The final tally? Six instances of the s-word, two of the a-word, one instance of the b-word (“bitchin’”—I’m not a monster), and a handful of d-words and h-words each.
It would be disingenuous of me to purposefully avoid all cussing in my writing, especially since I aim for a colloquial tone. Take this passage for example, where I’m giving out a handy mnemonic poem to feel the difference between a fir (genus Abies) and a spruce (genus Picea). Context: a fir’s needles are blunt, but a spruce’s are pointy:
“When gripping thus the fir tree grand, one knows the softness of the land. When gripping thus the spruce tree grand, oh god, oh shit, my hand, my hand!”(73).
Here, shit indicates physical pain. I had no other choice but to use it here, as I almost always say the word shit when my fingers are being impaled by spruce needles. It’s just my habit.
I also discovered that my use of shit is actually more historically common in non-fiction, textbook-style writing than I thought. Using my old friend, the Oxford English Dictionary Online, for whose services I pay a handsome bounty each year to indulge foibles such as this one, I discovered that shit has been in use in the English language since the 14th century, even in John Wycliffe’s translation of the Bible from 1382 (all following italics mine, also the þ makes a “th” sound):
“þe parte of þe body by þe whiche tordys been shetyn out.”1
That right there is high comedy—and in the bible! Also, check out this whip-smart insult humor from an anonymous 1475 morality play:
“I haue schetun yowr mowth full of turdys.”
Someone’s gonna need a brushing! Also, finally, this lovely confession from a character in a contemporary translation (Caxton, 1484) of Aesop’s Fables:
“I dyde shyte thre grete toordes.”
Remarkable candor. Such regularity is the privilege of kings alone.
I have a lot of fun with the OED. Also, I was today years old when I found out that folks in the late middle ages were running around, screaming about turds. I always kind of figured as much but it’s good to have it confirmed.
It appears from the OED page that anatomical and scientific writing was still using the word shit up until the late eighteenth century, when I suppose it was shunted to the backwaters of “common” literature with the advent of Victorian manners. Here’s William Gibson talking about horses in 1720:
“I have known a Hidebound Horse shite often, and his Excrements soft.”
Boy does William know his horses.
I’m proud to say that Must Love Trees: An Unconventional Guide is following in the footsteps of these Shit Giants. Or, rather, these Giants of Shit.
I hope this primer on the nature of swearing in Must Love Trees has helped allay some of your fears. Feel free to email me at mustlovetreesbook@gmail.com if you have any more of them.
An Out-of-Context Sentence from Must Love Trees: An Unconventional Guide
Page 30:
But it still holds true that the Whomping Willow was just sitting there, minding its business, until a couple of underage wizard dipshits drove a car into its seedballs.
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All quotes from:
"shit, v." OED Online, Oxford University Press, December 2022, www.oed.com/view/Entry/178329. Accessed 8 February 2023.