Graphic Courtesy of Yujin Kim ’23
I believe there is nothing in this world that is simultaneously as loved and hated as the pun. As such, essay that it would be a good idea to discuss them. Puns are a bizarre linguistic development, one that makes a mockery of the coincidental similarities between various words. Despite their mundanity, they are one of the most polarizing things in this world — you either love them or completely despise them. The reactions people have to puns are quite varied, ranging from a hearty chuckle to a groan of pure annoyance. (I have faced the ire of the latter on numerous occasions. Punishment, if you will.)
I suppose part of this comes from my fascination with language. As a writer it is only natural, but I’ve always instinctually picked apart the English language. (Why are there so many inconsistencies?! “I before E except after C?” That’s awfully weird, isn’t it. English, I suggest you seize the opportunity to forfeit this argument before I really get going.) As such, I’ve always had a sixth sense for puns. They provide an enjoyable way to play with words, and they’re a way to express my creativity.
Puns are a powerful tool when used correctly. They’re a great way to break the ice, despite the varied reactions they get from people. Puns are also a useful tool in fiction, but there’s certainly a write and a wrong way to use them. In a more comedic story, they’re a great way to set the tone, whether they take the form of a name or a visual pun. However, when used in the incorrect context, they can completely remove the tension from what’s supposed to be a dramatic moment. A tension vacuum if you will … honestly, it just sucks.
Outside of the context of fiction, puns are simply a fun means to amuse others. In this way, I guess puns could be considered small talk — quite an unorthodox one. They’re there to shake up the monotonous, like on a long car trip — though, that can drive everyone who’s with you crazy.
I’ve always been “that guy.” You know the one. The guy who’s constantly laughing at his own puns while everyone else is desperately, silently praying that he doesn’t have any more. My parents have had to deal with my habit for over a decade. I have a lot of material now, and I do have a bad habit of overusing puns.
For example, I go through the exact same routine whenever I go grocery shopping. What can I say — we’re always in a jam in the fruit spread aisle and the tomato unemployment rate must be pretty bad if so many of them are getting canned. I’ve always felt my mom’s taste in yogurt was dairy good, and you cheddar be ready for my cheese puns. No matter how you slice it, they’re really gouda.
Jokes aside, I suppose the real reason I love puns is that they’re such a joy in their simplest form. They’re quick, easy, and will make you laugh or groan. But not the painful kind of groan — more in the “getting annoyed at your best buddy” kind of way. I guess that’s what’s core to puns: they’re a form of playful banter that brings us closer together. There’s an innocence to them. They don’t rely on mocking someone else’s suffering or ineptitude, nor do they make fun of the hardships we all face. They don’t bury themselves behind several layers of irony and overused image macros. They just turn the coincidences in our language into pockets of humor. Almost anyone can understand puns, regardless of their age or experience. And, I suppose that’s special to me.
I’ve often been frustrated with my generation over how our humor is based on irony and self depreciation. It’s humor without joy, which sounds like a contradiction, but is very real. Puns don’t have that problem. They take something simple and turn it into something joyful. When you stop to think about it, it’s kind of beautiful. Puns are like a lamp, because they produce de-light.
