A Model of Good Descriptive Prose
from A Christmas Carol
by Charles Dickens
"Yo ho, my boys!" said Fezziwig. "No more work to-night.from A Christmas Carol
by Charles Dickens
I have taken 
this passage from Charles Dickens' famous novella to illustrate the description of a holiday party. All writing comes from what we've read. So let's study the style here.
Dickens begins on dialogue—always a strong choice. Note how Fezziwig's quote sums up the spirit of Christmas: "No more work to-night."
Then we get concrete action: "Let's have the shutters up." Not a general phrase, "We prepared the room." No, a concrete action; as is the "sharp clap of his hands."
We also have idiomatic usage ("before a man can say Jack Robinson"), which helps define a speaker often more than description.
Then too there are proper names—always a strong point in writing ("Dick. Ebenezer.") Instead of writing, "My sister," it's more forceful to write, "Sally, my sister," etc.
Then the prose perfectly captures the energy of the moment; first with a strong verb, "charged" ("They charged into the street"), then by counting out the speed of the action ("four, five, six . . . seven, eight, nine. . . ."). But Dickens is also careful to describe the action involved in putting up the shutters: barred 'em and pinned 'em.
A vivid analogy follows: "panting like race-horses."
Then the dancing begins. But the dance is not described generally: "We decided to dance"!
No. Instead we hear Fezziwig's excitement as he prepares for the dance: "Clear away, my lads, and let's have lots of room here!" Dickens then repeats that phrase "clear away" several more times for emphasis and a kind of "rhyme."
Then notice the vivid series of actions: "the floor was swept and watered. . . ." Also there's the implied contrast between private life (such as the employees now enjoy) and their otherwise drab "public life": "Every movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from public life for evermore. . . ." Then Dickens repeats his "ands" to add more movement to his prose: "and the warehouse was as snug, and warm, and dry, and bright. . . ."
Dickens follows with two rhetorical tricks: reversing normal sentence order ("In came" instead of ("He) came in") and repeating that phrase several times. The reversed phrase ("In came") adds force to the action of arriving (coming in); the repetitions of that phrase add energy and coherence to the writing (because they all came in for the same purpose).
What follows shows great mastery of language—however simple the language: Note more reverse word order ("In they all came"; "away they all went"), the rhymed endings of the adverbs ("-ly"); repetition by exact word ("some"; "round"; "couple"); by opposite ("pushing/pulling;" anyhow/everyhow"; "old/new"); or by related movement ("up/down").
In the next paragraph note the strong verb ("plunged") and concrete action. Always show don't tell.
The next paragraph shows the use of polysyndeton: many "ands" to link phrases. The purpose is to show energy in the actions being done as a whirl of activity.
Note the linking conjunction "But," in the next paragraph, to create coherence. Then note the description of Fezziwig and his wife dancing—another concrete action.
This action also creates a climax in the scene: that is, the reader feels the writer has ordered his material from least to most important: from regular guests to the host couple; the description is not just random or casual, but necessary, with a point of view. Such climactic order controls the entire piece, since the vignette begins with a command to celebrate the holiday and ends with the end of the dance, depature of all the guests, and, finally, sleep.
Observe that Dickens doesn't mention any dance number but a specific dance number: "Sir Roger de Coverley" (the name of a tune, not a person).
The final three paragraphs are no less models of strong prose. Dickens carefully describes all the steps in the dance Fezziwig does with his wife. In the penultimate (next-to-last) paragraph he neatly shows how Fezziwig and wife stand on either end of the door to bid their guests farewell, establishing formal order and climactic coherence.
Finally, Dickens ends his vignette (short prose study) logically—by sleep ("the cheerful voices died away"). He even describes where the beds are located: if the prose is strong, everything will be specific and concrete. One feels the writer has actually lived the scene: been there and seen it.
Bad writing is a kind of lie. Just like when we lie, we are very vague. But good writing is the Truth. Because when we tell the truth we can be very specific—giving all the necessary details required.
Notice in all this that a large vocabulary is not necessary for vivid prose. But one has to work at it: analyze a moment; break it down; brainstorm for details ("ideas"); organize those details; then find the right (not necessarily the big) words to express one's ideas.
Dickens begins on dialogue—always a strong choice. Note how Fezziwig's quote sums up the spirit of Christmas: "No more work to-night."
Then we get concrete action: "Let's have the shutters up." Not a general phrase, "We prepared the room." No, a concrete action; as is the "sharp clap of his hands."
We also have idiomatic usage ("before a man can say Jack Robinson"), which helps define a speaker often more than description.
Then too there are proper names—always a strong point in writing ("Dick. Ebenezer.") Instead of writing, "My sister," it's more forceful to write, "Sally, my sister," etc.
Then the prose perfectly captures the energy of the moment; first with a strong verb, "charged" ("They charged into the street"), then by counting out the speed of the action ("four, five, six . . . seven, eight, nine. . . ."). But Dickens is also careful to describe the action involved in putting up the shutters: barred 'em and pinned 'em.
A vivid analogy follows: "panting like race-horses."
Then the dancing begins. But the dance is not described generally: "We decided to dance"!
No. Instead we hear Fezziwig's excitement as he prepares for the dance: "Clear away, my lads, and let's have lots of room here!" Dickens then repeats that phrase "clear away" several more times for emphasis and a kind of "rhyme."
Then notice the vivid series of actions: "the floor was swept and watered. . . ." Also there's the implied contrast between private life (such as the employees now enjoy) and their otherwise drab "public life": "Every movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from public life for evermore. . . ." Then Dickens repeats his "ands" to add more movement to his prose: "and the warehouse was as snug, and warm, and dry, and bright. . . ."
Dickens follows with two rhetorical tricks: reversing normal sentence order ("In came" instead of ("He) came in") and repeating that phrase several times. The reversed phrase ("In came") adds force to the action of arriving (coming in); the repetitions of that phrase add energy and coherence to the writing (because they all came in for the same purpose).
What follows shows great mastery of language—however simple the language: Note more reverse word order ("In they all came"; "away they all went"), the rhymed endings of the adverbs ("-ly"); repetition by exact word ("some"; "round"; "couple"); by opposite ("pushing/pulling;" anyhow/everyhow"; "old/new"); or by related movement ("up/down").
In the next paragraph note the strong verb ("plunged") and concrete action. Always show don't tell.
The next paragraph shows the use of polysyndeton: many "ands" to link phrases. The purpose is to show energy in the actions being done as a whirl of activity.
Note the linking conjunction "But," in the next paragraph, to create coherence. Then note the description of Fezziwig and his wife dancing—another concrete action.
This action also creates a climax in the scene: that is, the reader feels the writer has ordered his material from least to most important: from regular guests to the host couple; the description is not just random or casual, but necessary, with a point of view. Such climactic order controls the entire piece, since the vignette begins with a command to celebrate the holiday and ends with the end of the dance, depature of all the guests, and, finally, sleep.
Observe that Dickens doesn't mention any dance number but a specific dance number: "Sir Roger de Coverley" (the name of a tune, not a person).
The final three paragraphs are no less models of strong prose. Dickens carefully describes all the steps in the dance Fezziwig does with his wife. In the penultimate (next-to-last) paragraph he neatly shows how Fezziwig and wife stand on either end of the door to bid their guests farewell, establishing formal order and climactic coherence.
Finally, Dickens ends his vignette (short prose study) logically—by sleep ("the cheerful voices died away"). He even describes where the beds are located: if the prose is strong, everything will be specific and concrete. One feels the writer has actually lived the scene: been there and seen it.
Bad writing is a kind of lie. Just like when we lie, we are very vague. But good writing is the Truth. Because when we tell the truth we can be very specific—giving all the necessary details required.
Notice in all this that a large vocabulary is not necessary for vivid prose. But one has to work at it: analyze a moment; break it down; brainstorm for details ("ideas"); organize those details; then find the right (not necessarily the big) words to express one's ideas.
Christmas Eve, Dick. Christmas, Ebenezer! Let's have the shutters up," cried old Fezziwig, with a sharp clap of his hands, "before a man can say Jack Robinson!"
You wouldn't believe how those two fellows went at it! They charged into the street with the shutters—one, two, three—had 'em up in their places—four, five, six—barred 'em and pinned 'em—seven, eight, nine—and came back before you could have got to twelve, panting like race-horses.
"Hilli-ho!" cried old Fezziwig, skipping down from the high desk, with wonderful agility. "Clear away, my lads, and let's have lots of room here! Hilli-ho, Dick! Chirrup, Ebenezer!"
Clear away! There was nothing they wouldn't have cleared away, or couldn't have cleared away, with old Fezziwig looking on.
It was done in a minute. Every movable was packed off, as if
it were dismissed from public life for evermore; the floor was
swept and watered, the lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon
the fire; and the warehouse was as snug, and warm, and dry, and
bright a ball-room, as you would desire to see upon a winter's night.
In came a fiddler with a music-book, and went up to the lofty desk, and made an orchestra of it, and tuned like fifty stomach-aches. In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile. In came the three Miss Fezziwigs, beaming and lovable. In came the six young followers whose hearts they broke. In came all the young men and women employed in
the business. In came the housemaid, with her cousin, the baker. In came the cook, with her brother's particular friend, the milkman. In came the boy from over the way, who was suspected of not having board enough from his master; trying to hide himself behind the girl from next door but one, who was proved to have had her ears pulled by her mistress.
In they all came, one after another; some shyly, some boldly, some gracefully, some awkwardly, some pushing, some pulling; in they all came, anyhow and everyhow. Away they all went, twenty couple at once; hands half round and back again the other way; down the middle and up again; round and round in various stages of affectionate grouping; old top couple always turning up in the wrong place; new top couple starting off again, as soon as they got there; all top couples at last, and not a bottom one to help them!
When this result was brought about, old Fezziwig, clapping his
hands to stop the dance, cried out, "Well done!" and the
fiddler plunged his hot face into a pot of porter, especially
provided for that purpose. . . .
There were more dances, and there were forfeits, and more
dances, and there was cake, and there was negus, and there
was a great piece of Cold Roast, and there was a great piece
of Cold Boiled, and there were mince-pies, and plenty of beer.
But the great effect of the evening came after the Roast
and Boiled, when the fiddler . . . struck up "Sir Roger de Coverley." Then old Fezziwig stood out to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top
couple, too; with a good stiff piece of work cut out for them. . . .
A positive light appeared to issue from Fezziwig's calves. They shone in every part of the dance like moons. You couldn't have predicted, at any given time, what would have become of them next. And when old
Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all through the dance; advance and retire, both hands to your partner, bow and curtsey, corkscrew, thread-the-needle, and back again to your place; Fezziwig "cut"—cut so deftly, that he appeared to wink with his legs, and came upon his feet again without a stagger.
When the clock struck eleven, this domestic ball broke up. Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig took their stations, one on either side of the door, and shaking hands with every person individually as he or she went out, wished him or her a Merry Christmas.
When everybody had retired but the two 'prentices, they did the same to them; and thus the cheerful voices died away, and the lads were left to their beds; which were under a counter in the back-shop.
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