Looking in All Directions: A Journey Through Palindrome Writing

Friday - January 5 2024, 10:37 UTC - 10 months ago

Duncan has found his calling in palindromes, writing with an enthusiasm that he could not have imagined as a teenager with lessons from his dad. Despite having no real example to follow, Duncan kept working at it and eventually achieved such proficiency that he could compose palindromes on just about any subject. His writing process begins with the letters of the alphabet on the top of the page, followed by brainstorming words and shaping them into a phrase or sentence. He counts the number of letters and cuts them down to size, and reads the palindrome aloud to check for any errors in structure or meaning.

When I was a teenager in South Jersey and getting a driving lesson from my dad, he casually mentioned that I should look in the rearview mirror every now and then to see what was going on behind me. To borrow an expression from my Italian grandmother, I remained with my mouth open—that is, I was astonished. How was it possible, I wondered, to look in front of me and behind me at the same time? In that instant, I probably knew that I would very soon become a passionate nondriver, but I couldn’t have imagined that I would find my calling doing the very thing I thought impossible: looking forward and backward simultaneously.

I don’t know if it’s just forgetfulness or some kind of defense mechanism on my part, but I can’t remember any of my early efforts. I’m sure they were terrible, as most palindromes are. So many are about nothing, paying no attention to grammar or logic—just words strung together, with no real merit. But I do recall being on a commuter train in Philadelphia, seeing a sign that told commuters to hold on to their receipts, and recognizing that the word "receipt" contained the word "piece" going the other way. An encouraging moment.

At that time, there was no evidence that anything serious or genuinely literary could be accomplished with palindrome writing. Still, out of some combination of stubbornness and eccentricity, and with no real example to follow, I kept working at it. Eventually (decades later), something happened, and I reached a point where reversibility became so natural to me that I began to think of it as my first language. After what had seemed like an unusually long apprenticeship, I had achieved such proficiency in two directions that I felt as if I could compose a palindrome on just about any subject.

But the biggest boon to my career has been landing here at MIT.I started working at the Institute in January of 2022, in the MIT Press Bookstore. While I was delighted to find a bookselling job in this most civilized environment, I never expected that I would get such an enthusiastic reaction to my two-way writing (even being profiled in a video and an article from the News Office). To date, I have composed at least 80 palindromes for MIT people and departments, including 30 reversible meditations on exhibits, objects, and spaces at the MIT Museum and a succinct celebration of the Institute’s industrious mascot—mit.edu dude: Tim! .

I’m sometimes asked how I go about constructing a palindrome. It’s difficult to describe something that often happens instantly—I write a good many palindromes without ever putting pen to paper—but I would say that I begin in the middle and try to evaluate the reversible potential of all pertinent vocabulary. My goals are always the same: to serve the subject, keep that middle point from standing out too obviously, and produce something that sounds as much like normal writing or speech as possible. If I can manage to do that without showing off too much, then I feel that I’ve succeeded.

Duncan’s process begins with writing the letters of the alphabet on the top of the page. He carries a black pen and a lined yellow notepad with him wherever he goes, and at any given moment, he has the notebook open to whatever page he was writing on before. He starts by brainstorming words that might come in handy for his next palindrome. Next, he begins to shape the words he’s brainstormed into a phrase or sentence that describes or addresses his subject without being too obvious. He then counts the number of letters in the phrase or sentence and cuts it down to the desired length, if necessary. Finally, he designs the sentence so that it reads the same in both directions—from beginning to end, and from end to beginning. “I find it helpful to try reading the palindrome aloud,” he says. “It helps me to discover any errors in structure or meaning, and I do a lot of revision in this way.” .