Rabelais’s literary style is steeped in irony, satire, and hyperbole, as evident from the Prologue to Book 1 itself when the narrator declares, “I give myself—body and soul, tripe and innards—to a hundred thousand punnets of fair devils if I tell you one single word of a lie in the whole of this history” (12). This is irony, since of course the book is a lie in that it is fiction. From the very beginning, the use of irony and satire becomes a way for Rabelais to navigate the various religious, social, and political foibles of his age.

Rabelais’s satire is overblown and exuberant. It is no coincidence that his father-son protagonists of Books 1 and 2 are giants. Gargantua and Pantagruel are mammoth not just in size, but also in hunger, thirst, and intellect: They represent the appetite for learning, novelty, and experience that defined the Renaissance era. Their being giants also lends itself to much physical comedy and body-related grotesque humor. Not only are the codpieces of Gargantua and Pantagruel huge (indicating enormous phalluses), but they also urinate enough to drown cities, defecate out mountains, and their farts engender petite people.