Anapodoton (an’-a-po’-do-ton): A figure in which a main clause is suggested by the introduction of a subordinate clause, but that main clause never occurs.
Anapodoton is a kind of anacoluthon, since grammatical expectations are interrupted. If the expression trails off, leaving the subordinate clause incomplete, this is sometimes more specifically called anantapodoton. Anapodoton has also named what occurs when a main clause is omitted because the speaker interrupts himself/herself to revise the thought, leaving the initial clause grammatically unresolved but making use of it nonetheless by recasting its content into a new, grammatically complete sentence.
But I loved her anyway. The clock was ticking and I was licking the back of my hand. I was was drowning in memories, floating kayaks of regret, bobbing on small waves of pain, pushing me away from shore onto the horizonless waste of gratuitous imagery, like a nostril hair twitching tentatively on the left nostril of life, coveting the right nostril’s position, nearer the ear, due to a nearly imperceptible birth defect connected to heredity—almost inevitable, but not certain, like most of what we inherit. I am fat, blond-haired, green-eyed, left-handed, pigeon-toed, covered with moles, loose-jointed, near-sighted, allergic to dust, cats, and after-shave lotion. My kids have all the same traits as me with the addition of their mother’s: excess body hair (including a unibrow), dyslexia, assorted food allergies, bi-polar disease, scrolling toenails, and paranoia.
As you can imagine, our lives together are very complex. It seems like every six months we discover another inherited malady among us. My neighbor Ed thinks we come from another planet—maybe one the Air Force knows about, but is keeping hush hush due to security reasons. He believes people from our planet are mating with each other to destroy the human race. I can see how he believes that when he looks at us, but I’ve shown him my birth certificate a number of times, I was born in Staten Island, New York, where I was put up for adoption. Both my parents were in the Air Force and were part of a project that didn’t allow children. I never knew my parents, but I was told they “took off” right after I was born. Ed says that they literally flew away—back to their planet after finishing their work for the Air Force.
I should’ve gotten mad at Ed for claiming my parents came to earth to destroy the human race, but he was a conspiracy buff and there was no turning him around. Some of his theories should’ve landed him in the looney bin. For example, he believes John Kennedy is still alive and is giving orders to Elon Musk that will eventually lead to Musk’s total global control of the world’s electric appliances, weaponizing (among others) blenders, toaster ovens, and flashlights. Of course, this is insane, but they have the backing of the MAGAS, so it has been “debated” and “proven” true in the United States House of Representatives and funding has been allocated for “further investigation.”
There have been lights flashing over our house every night for the past 3 weeks. If I was crazy like Ed, I would believe it was a spaceship coming to take our family home. Ha! Ha!
POSTSCRIPT
He woke up to a humming sound. He looked to the left and saw his wife and children in the dim light strapped into cot-like beds. They were going home! He had denied it all his life, but now it seemed that Ed was right, minus the destruction of humanity. Maybe he would meet his parents. When they arrived they were escorted by humanoids to a replica of their earth home and told this is where they would live. There was a red line around their house. It was electrified and crossing it from either direction could be fatal. They settled in. Their maladies dissipated. Friends were supplied. As the years went by, the red line’s current diminished and they were able to cross it. The kids met their grandparents. They looked like Dolly Parton and Lyle Waggoner. He and his wife were shocked. The second time they met his parents looked Seals and Crofts. Someday, he would figure out what was going on. But for now, he was just happy to be home.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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