Now Christian Bok, a poet chap from Canada, has spent the last seven years writing a book called (predictably enough) 'Eunoia' which consists of five chapters - one for each of the vowels - and in each of these chapters he only uses words that contain one of those vowels. Now I thought that sounded a bit mad and probably would be a bit of a crap book, but this chap read an extract on the radio and it was really clever. An extract from chapter one (spot the vowel...):
"Hiking in British districts, I picnic in virgin firths, grinning in mirth with misfit whims, smiling if I find birch twigs, smirking if I find mint sprigs.
Midspring brings with it singing birds, six kinds, (finch, siskin, ibis, tit, pipit, swift), whistling shrill chirps, trilling chirr chirr in high pitch. Kingbirds flit in gliding flight, skimming limpid springs, dipping wingtips in rills which brim with living things: krill, shrimp, brill - fish with gilt fins, which swim in flitting zigs. Might Virgil find bliss implicit in this primitivism? Might I mimic him in print if I find his writings inspiring?"
Well I thought it was pretty clever..........seven years worth of clever? probably not.......
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