The Rhetorical Device Only Expert Writers Know How to Use

The paradox — you know one when you see one

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The liar’s paradox is the simplest of paradoxes. If someone says “I always lie,” are they telling the truth or lying?

The statement ‘this statement is false’ is a paradox, because if that statement is a lie, it would be the truth. A paradox is a seemingly absurd or contradictory statement or proposition that can be true but is often unresolvable.

This makes them perplexing and difficult to write.

Paradoxes in writing are delicious tidbits for the brain. Some people consider them difficult to define but believe they know one when they see one. Here’s a straightforward definition:

When a statement or idea contradicts itself, it is called a paradox.

The confusion arises because what people think is a paradox often isn’t. A colleague of mine was called Fatty McWhirter. Paradoxically, there is more fat on a stick than on Fatty McWhirter. He was as thin as a politician’s smile, but everyone called him Fatty. Except, that isn’t a paradox, it’s irony.

It is part of the Scottish sense of humour to veer towards irony when applying nicknames. Thus, ‘Little John’ is six feet six and weighs 300lbs.

Going back to the liar’s paradox, if someone says “I always tell the truth,” that could be true, whereas, “I always lie,” can’t be true. The former is a lie, I know this from 30 years of police experience — everyone lies, the latter is a paradox.

In literature, paradoxes get us thinking.

“It’s not the hours you put in your work that counts, it’s the work you put in the hours.”

— *Sam Ewing*

Which goes against common sense until you give it some thought.

“The golden rule is that there are no golden rules.”

— George Bernard Shaw, Man and Superman

Shaw offers a straightforward concept but delivers it in a paradox.

“I must be cruel to be kind.”

— William Shakespeare, Hamlet

Is it possible for someone to exhibit both cruelty and kindness? This is a neat example of how a paradox can make characters more complex. By bumping off Claudius and getting revenge for his dad’s murder, Hamlet believes he’s doing the right thing.

We are all filled with paradoxical beliefs. It is part of the human condition to believe we are innately good, yet we are capable of doing evil. We are a mishmash of conflicting thoughts, feelings, and attitudes.

When you see a person begging, do you give them money or ignore them, as most people do? But then, do you feel guilty? Despite having cash in my pocket, I’ve told a beggar I have no change — compelled to explain my lack of generosity. Others justify not giving because they presume the person will spend the money on drink or drugs.

Gifting money can depend on whether you feel empathy or sympathy. Empathy involves understanding someone’s feelings, while sympathy involves feeling relieved for not having the same issues.

In writing, paradoxes can emphasise a character’s humanness. If overdone, they stand out and make the story less believable, as with the story of The Paradox Hotel.

One day, a super wealthy guest calls at The Paradox Hotel. He wants to see his room before he stays. The receptionist asks for a security deposit and he hands over £100. The deposit is exactly the amount the hotel owes its chef, so they give him the cash. The chef uses it to pay the £100 he’d loaned from the bellboy. The bellboy hands over the money to the cleaner, whom he owes for services rendered. The cleaner pays her debts to the bookmaker, who has stayed the night at the hotel, so he uses it to pay for his board. The wealthy guest comes back from his tour of the room and decides not to stay, so the receptionist returns his deposit. All debts are gone, but nothing has changed. Did the debt even exist?

Paradoxes are also useful for comic effect.

In the brilliant sitcom Only Fools and Horses, the street sweeper, Trigger, receives a medal for saving the council money after he tells a councillor he has had the same broom for the last twenty years.

“This old broom,” he tells Del Boy and Rodney, “has had seventeen new heads and fourteen new handles.” Their looks are priceless. The line is oft-repeated, a measure of how enduringly memorable it is.

The beauty of a paradox lies in its ability to stop the reader and get our neurons firing. The perplexity of it will determine whether we smile or scratch our skulls. Either way, it will have done its job.

We come across paradoxes that seem wrong but on second thoughts, can seem true.

• The more you fail, the more likely you are to succeed.
• The more something scares you, the more you should do it.
• The more connected we become, the more isolated we feel.

These appear contradictory, at first, but they can be true — up to a point. If you fail all the time, you will never succeed. If you fear drowning, trying it won’t rid you of that. While I appreciate the sentiment of the last one, it isn’t necessarily true.

I wrote my sixth-year English dissertation on the most famous paradox of all. In** **Catch-22 by Joseph Heller, Captain Yossarian conflicts with military policy and the bureaucratic trap his superiors use to justify their illogical demands. It has a circular reasoning:

“There was only one catch and that was Catch-22, which specified that a concern for one’s safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind. [Bomber pilot] Orr was crazy and could be grounded. All he had to do was ask; and as soon as he did, he would no longer be crazy and would have to fly more missions. … Yossarian was moved very deeply by the absolute simplicity of this clause of Catch-22 and let out a respectful whistle.”

— Joseph Heller, Catch-22

When I first read that, I let out a respectful whistle too.

Catch-22 is a simple concept everyone can understand. The beauty of writing a paradox lies in its potential to make you famous and wealthy. Heller’s paradox left a lasting impact on our language and culture.

I phoned my health centre to make an appointment and was told they had no appointments available. Puzzled, I asked why. The receptionist explained they only make appointments two weeks in advance and had none left.

“Can you not book me an appointment three weeks from now?”

“No, we haven’t opened up the diary for that yet. You’ll need to phone back on Monday.”

I let out a respectful whistle. To get around meeting government targets, you can’t get onto the waiting list until it’s within the target time. Catch-22.

Joseph Heller wrote Catch-22 over sixty years ago, and it feels like it was written yesterday. It became an immense success as a book, film and series. Yet Heller’s other books (can you name any?) never reached the same giddy heights.

Writing a paradox that catches the imagination is difficult. Even the author of Catch-22 couldn’t follow up with another.