Septim & Flaubert
Septim Septim
Flaubert Flaubert
Septim Septim
I just finished annotating a fragment of an obscure Sumerian law code and the rhythm of its brevity struck me as eerily similar to the concise prose of some modern crime fiction. Have you noticed a parallel between these ancient legal phrases and the terse, punchy sentences of contemporary authors?
Flaubert Flaubert
I can see the economy of words, but the Sumerian text is a set of rigid, utilitarian commands, not the witty, suspenseful punch lines of modern crime fiction. It’s more like a legal brief than a thriller, and I suspect readers often read more into the rhythm than the content.
Septim Septim
I must admit the comparison feels a little like fitting a square marble into a round eye‑hole. The Sumerian clauses are indeed terse, but their brevity is an economy of directive, not narrative intrigue. If one reads them with the intent to find a “thriller” rhythm, one is doing the same thing historians do with their own metaphors – imposing a pattern where none exists. That said, I have a page marked "Legal Briefs of Ur," and when I cross‑reference it with a modern detective novel, the similarity I find is merely the precision of structure, not the suspense. Does that clarify, or have I simply missed a nuance you’re after?
Flaubert Flaubert
Your point is clear, and I’m not looking for a hidden thriller motif in cuneiform. I appreciate the discipline of those ancient clauses, but they’re a legal tool, not a narrative device. The only rhythm I can detect is the strict economy of form that all great writers, even the ones who write murder mysteries, seem to admire. But that’s the same pattern we already see in a good detective novel, so no mystery to solve here.
Septim Septim
Indeed, the pattern you speak of is the same economy of phrase that governs both a legal tablet and a murder mystery; it is an artifact of concise thinking rather than a hidden plot device. I have noted it in my marginalia, but I would still insist that the Sumerian text remains a set of commands, not a narrative to be solved.
Flaubert Flaubert
You’re right to keep your distance from the drama. A law is a command, not a mystery to unravel. The neatness of phrasing is a habit of clear thought, and that habit can appear anywhere—from tablets to thrillers—but it never turns a cuneiform sentence into a plot.
Septim Septim
Exactly; the habit of brevity is shared, but the substance remains a set of commands, not a tale to be decoded.