Laughter and Truth

How It Began

When people suggested Your Body Was Made for This might be funny, I was surprised. Middle-aged women going through perimenopause? I guess there are things about that which touch upon the absurd and ridiculous. Okay. But of all the things I am generally accused of being, funny is not one of them. I am a serious individual a lot of the time, thinking about difficult things and talking about them too.

Still, the suggestion made me curious, and ever since I’ve been studying humour wherever and whenever I might find it—in novels and memoirs and short stories, in movies and TV shows, and most delightfully in the ordinary moments that pass between human beings every day. There are “in” jokes that only my husband and I understand. Families too have their own special humour language based on a shared history and a defiant celebration of our most prominent individual flaws. With the right people, being the object of laughter can feel warmer than a hug. “I see you,” it says. “You are known.”

A Stand-Up Kind of Gal

I am also drawn to stand-up comedy these days. The better the routine, the more times I will watch it. I must have seen Michelle Wolf’s Joke Show ten times already. Some of her bits repeat verbatim in my head now. In making us laugh, she is also able to make us cringe and to face uncomfortable thoughts.

Polar Opposites

Yet, humour can also be used to reinforce the worse stereotypes. It can make others smaller in order to make the person delivering the joke and their fellow believers feel bigger. Causing laughter is a power move, make no mistake. It proves influence and it rallies the troops in ways that can be nothing short of dangerous. Think of recent political maneuvers, if you need an example.

The humour I enjoy most does the opposite. It reveals truths we find uncomfortable and breaks down the internal barriers we erect to avoid our most difficult feelings. Rather than targeting others, such humour aims directly at our most vulnerable self. But first, it tricks us into thinking we are laughing at someone else.

Miriam Toews

To me, Miriam Toews is the all-time master of this particular brand of laughter. I stand in awe of her skill, not only for the humour but for all that the humour contains. A few years ago, I read Fight Night for discussion in a lively book club of avid readers and deep thinkers. Although this was before my more recent obsession with humour began, my reflections on this book focused around laughter. I wanted to understand not only what made me laugh, but what that laughter did to me.

This is what I noticed. Time and time again as I was reading, I found myself guffawing loudly only to moments later be overcome with the deepest sorrow. It was like the laughter expanded me, stretched me out, increased my surface area, so that the pathos when it landed a minute or two later had greater coverage. I felt more, way more, because I laughed first.

Readers Are Always Right

I flagged passages in Fight Night that caused this reaction, looking forward to comparing notes with the other women in the book club. Imagine my shock when I discovered that they experienced the laughter, but did find that it opened up into sorrow. They seemed instead to be reassured by the laughter, feeling that if the characters could crack jokes, they must be okay.

The thing about readers is that they are always right. I’ll save the depth of that thought for another blog. For now, I will only say that we have few inalienable rights and holding our own personal thoughts and feelings about a book is one of them.

But What Is the Meaning of Laughter, Really?

Still, I could not let it go. This question about laughter, whether it is a sign of things being okay, has remained with me. In my life, the deepest laughter, the kind that explodes, is not something that happens when things are okay. And it holds a complex brew of emotions, not only joy but defiance—it smacks of truth.

My study of humour is far from over. It will continue I suspect without necessarily changing how I write, although it will probably influence what I read. I don’t think I am one of those people who can deliberately be funny. Besides, why would I try if not trying works?

Foolishly Naïve, So What?

I may be foolishly naïve and so be it. Honestly, if I needed a tag line, that would suit me precisely. Foolishly naïve, that is me. So, I will do what I have done so far when tracking down stories worth sharing. I will meticulously explore sensory details, waiting for the ones that overwhelm and frighten. I will linger there, messing around. Awkward silence may ensue, but I will not leave until I find myself next to something that aches of truth.

Will it also be funny? Time will tell.

If you enjoyed this blog, please subscribe. It is free.