How I Wrote My Essay
How did I write my paragraphs to describe a place?
First I more or less arbitrarily chose a place (a teenager's room).
Then I brainstormed for details: clothes in disarray (scattered), a carpet, CD-player, a blowup, a cell phone). I had my concrete nouns.
Then I tried to achieve lower levels of generality. I made the room a young woman's room. Other specific details followed: I made the carpet lavender; the CD player became silver-toned; the blowup was of Britney Spears (a role model?), the clothes included hot pants, the walls became pink.
Now I needed an arrangement, so also a theme and focus: a general idea which would insure unity to the specific details. (The general and the specific help each other and are not simply opposed values in writing.)
So I introduced a character, a father, whose point of view I could use to impose order on the details. I knew if he entered his daughter's room, he would be looking for something, and his gaze would organize the specific details.
Next I needed a motive. So I thought the father might wish to check up on his daughter's progress in school (after all: it was his tuition money).
Now the general idea that came from the specific details led, in turn, to more specific details (that's the way writing works: as a continuous dialogue between old ideas and new ideas, after which some old ideas may be discarded to improve focus): a general focus or topic (teenager's room) produced details, which allowed me to make my focus more clear (a daughter's room), adding more specific details, etc.
Deciding on the father's point of view (spatial and psychological: searching for assurance his tuition money was not wasted), I added more details, of a conflicting kind. I needed details that would suggest the tuition money was being well spent: the computer terminal; the text typed in the file; the novel opened on the bed; the propped pillows, suggesting a reading stint; the scribbled words in the writing pad.
An additional detail, the crucifix, was added to suggest depth to the other details, being less related to my general theme and focus, thus more realisitc: it's not clear what the crucifix means; and that's the point: it makes the essay less pat, less obvious: where does religion fit into all of this? It's not clear, and that's just the point: it's a real room I'm describing, precisely because all the details don't fit together so neatly.
I also had to decide when to be specific and when to be more general. These choices were deliberate and not from neglect or carelessness.
I realized that telling the reader what CD was in the CD case was unnecessary and would only clutter the description. In another case, such a detail might be important (for example, to show the daughter had an interest in "serious" music, like Schubert or Bach; or to show she was involved in "dangerous" Heavy Metal music, etc.); but not in this case (the blowup of Spears was sufficient; if I had not mentioned whom the blowup was about, that would have been fatal!).
I also decided that I didn't need to go into specific details for every item of wardrobe; the mention of "hot pants" was enough.
Other details would have been unnecessary too, and would have "cluttered" the description. I mentioned the "quilt" bedspread, but omitted the color of the pillow cases on purpose: an essay is not the same as a mere list of specific details! The details must have purpose: focus, with a unity of theme behind them.
The queen-sized bed was important because it suggested the daughter was pampered, adding to the other side of the double theme: teenager as pampered, teenager as serious student. The specific writing in the pad and in the computer file added, of course, to the idea of the teenager as dedicated student, so were important specific details.
I then tried for an effective beginning, with a strong verb ("stumbled"), immediately placing the reader in the father's point of view, thus insuring a logical arrangement to my details. The ending neatly unifies the details and theme: the father carefully avoids looking at the Britney Spears blowup, choosing to focus, instead, on the opened book on the bed (convincing him his daughter is not wasting his tuition money).
So the details are arranged, according to space and time, based on the father's entering the daughter's room, then leaving it. Finally, I added a title, inviting the reader to share my focus while not spelling it out.
A FATHER'S ASSURANCE
As Mr. Hemmings entered his daughter's room, he stumbled over a silver-toned CD player that had been left near the entrance. Hearing a snap, he looked down and realized he had inadvertently stepped on an empty CD case lying next to the CD player.
His daughter's hot pants, blouses, and earrings were scattered on the thick lavender carpet, while the quilted bedspread of her queen-sized bed was turned down.
Three fluffy pillows were propped up against the bed's headboard, while an opened book lay just below the pillows. Mr. Hemmings craned his neck and checked its title: The Da Vinci Code.
On the pink wall above the bed was a blowup of a gyrating Britney Spears in concert. To the left of the blowup, hanging from a nail, was a tiny crucifix that faintly glowed in the dim light coming from the lamp that rested on the mahagony desk next to the bed.
On the desk was a computer with an LCD terminal in screensaver mode, showing fishes swimming randomly. Mr. Hemmings tapped the mouse and a typed line of text appeared: "Reading a novel involves interaction with the text on many levels."
Next to the terminal was a cell phone and an open pad. Scribbled on the pad were the words, "Symbolic Meanings in The Da Vinci Code."
Turning to leave, the father's gaze carefully avoided the Britney Spears blowup and fixed, instead, on the opened volume on the bed. Closing the door to his daughter's room, Mr. Hemmings smiled, satisfied, perhaps, that his tuition money had not been wasted.
For 10 January 2007
For students who missed today's class, our assignment due next week is a 2-3 paragraph essay describing a place.
The description should be selective, based on a theme, stated or implied.
For example, "The house was gloomy and dark" explicitly states a theme. Below is an example (my own) where the theme is implied. But the details are still selective, making contradictory (opposed) points: the person who lives in the room has typical teenage tastes, yet is also committed to her schoolwork.
Details that suggest her teenage interests are the clothes in disarray; the silver-toned CD player; the Britney Spears blowup; and the pink walls. Details that suggest student interests include the novel and the computer.
The essay is organized from the point-of-view of the father walking around the room from the time he enters it.
Also, next week, remember to bring your entire semester's work, including your cheat sheet, three samples of your writing you wish to be graded on; all your drafts; and your journal.
Next week we'll also have a vocabulary exam on Unit 3. We will also have a short exam that will test your ability to apply correct punctuation as well as style rules (citing sources, titles of books, movies, journals, using dashes, etc.). I will dictate several sentences and you will be asked to make the sentences acceptable as written text, according to standard style. (Check especially the MLA unit in your Harbrace Handbook.) You're allowed to bring your style sheet to class and to check it during the brief exam. So if you have a good cheat sheet, the exam should pose no problem.
As Mr. Hemmings entered his daughter's room, he stumbled over a silver-toned CD player that had been left near the entrance. Hearing a snap, he looked down and realized he had inadvertently stepped on an empty CD case lying next to the CD player.
His daughter's hot pants, blouses, and earrings were scattered on the thick lavender carpet, while the quilted bedspread of her queen-sized bed was turned down.
Three fluffy pillows were propped up against the bed's headboard, while an opened book lay just below the pillows. Mr. Hemmings craned his neck and checked its title: The Da Vinci Code.
On the pink wall above the bed was a blowup of a gyrating Britney Spears in concert. To the left of the blowup, hanging from a nail, was a tiny crucifix that faintly glowed in the dim light coming from the lamp that rested on the mahagony desk next to the bed.
On the desk was a computer with an LCD terminal in screensaver mode, showing fishes swimming randomly. Mr. Hemmings tapped the mouse and a typed line of text appeared: "Reading a novel involves interaction with the text on many levels."
Next to the terminal was a cell phone and an open pad. Scribbled on the pad were the words, "Symbolic Meanings in The Da Vinci Code."
Turning to leave, his gaze carefully avoided the Britney Spears blowup and fixed, instead, on the opened volume on the bed. Closing the door to his daughter's room, Mr. Hemmings smiled, satisfied, perhaps, that his tuition money had not been wasted.
Christmas Medley
A medley is a collection of song excerpts. As a special holiday treat, we're going to take a twenty minute journey into Christmas memories through a medley of Christmas melodies. We'll explore aspects of American culture and language, as well as music, through Christmas songs. Our first song is probably the most famous of all secular Christmas songs. It was copyrighted in the mid-nineteenth century as a short verse, but was later set to music. The writer, if alive today, would be a millionaire based on this one song. The versions by Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra are more traditional, but Barbra* Streisand's version is more eccentric, quickening the tempo for an original take on the melody and lyric. (NOTE: "Barbara" is usually spelled with an extra "a," but Streisand spells her name differently: Barbra.)
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way, oh what fun it is to ride on a one-horse open sleigh. A medley is a collection of song excerpts. As a special holiday treat, we're going to take a twenty minute journey into Christmas memories through a medley of Christmas melodies. We'll explore aspects of American culture and language, as well as music, through Christmas songs. Our first song is probably the most famous of all secular Christmas songs. It was copyrighted in the mid-nineteenth century as a short verse, but was later set to music. The writer, if alive today, would be a millionaire based on this one song. The versions by Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra are more traditional, but Barbra* Streisand's version is more eccentric, quickening the tempo for an original take on the melody and lyric. (NOTE: "Barbara" is usually spelled with an extra "a," but Streisand spells her name differently: Barbra.)
Irving Berlin's White Christmas vies with Jingle Bells as the most universal of all secular Christmas songs. The song was featured in the 1942 movie, Holiday Inn, and received that year's Oscar for Best Song. What is often forgotten, however, is that the song was sung in the movie with an introductory verse, setting the scene, in Palm Springs, California, where there is no snow. Hence the singer (Bing Crosby in the film) dreams of having snow on Christmas. Sadly, this verse is almost always omitted these days, but Barbra Streisand includes the song and verse on one of her Christmas albums.
{Note: Before the Rock era a verse was usually part of a song, allowing the singer to introduce the chorus (the main melody) in a kind of half singing, half speaking, style. This was part of the Broadway style, where actors had to go from speaking to singing.}
{Verse} The sun is shining, the grass is green, the orange and palm trees sway, there's never been such a day in Beverly Hills, L.A. But it's December the 24th and I am longing to be up north. {Chorus} I'm dreaming of a white Christmas.
Bing Crosby's version of this song, however, is by far the most famous and was once the biggest-selling single of all time. It's been said that the master copy was pressed so many times that Crosby had to record the song a second time to make a new master! Sinatra, the singer who surpassed Crosby as a song stylist, also recorded this song.
I'm dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the ones I used to know, where the tree tops glisten and children listen to hear sleigh bells in the snow.
In the Rock era, liberties were taken with the song. Elvis recorded an R&B version for his first Christmas album. Hard as it may be to believe today, Elvis' first Christmas album caused a furor when it was released, many disc jockies refusing to play it, deeming it an insult to the holiday.
I'm dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the ones I used to know. May your days, may your days, may your days be merry and bright and may all your Christmases be white.
What most teenagers didn't know, was that Elvis copied his version from an earlier R&B version by the black doo-wop group, The Drifters, with typical falsetto style of the doo-wop style. Still, Elvis added his own distinctive vocal style to the arrangement.
I, I, I am dreaming of a white Christmas with every Christmas card I write, may your days, may your days, may your days be merry and bright and may all your Christmases be white. I, I, I, I'm dreaming of a white Christmas.
This is another Christmas song whose original context is often forgotten. It was introduced by Judy Garland during World War II for the movie, Meet Me in St. Louis. The lyric specifically addressed the issue of absent men fighting the war, while their loved ones can only have a "little Christmas" without them, hoping that, once the war is over, "our troubles will be out of sight." Besides Garland, Streisand also recorded this song. It was featured in the movie, The Godfather; and most recently Christina Aguilera included a more embellished version of the song on her Christmas album:
Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light, from now on our troubles will be out of sight (next year all our troubles will be out of sight).
This is the most famous Christmas song. It was written on Christmas Eve by the Austrian organist, Johann Gruber, and played on an acoustic guitar because the organ had broken down. Barbra Streisand includes it on one Christmas album, and Elvis included it on his first Christmas album, singing it straight, obviously out of respect for the religious spirit of the song (Elvis was raised in a southern Christian church, part of the "Bible Belt"states and said he learned Rock 'n' Roll by watching singes in black churches). Mahalia Jackson was the most celebrated gospel singer of the twentieth century and she gave a powerful reading of the song.
Silent night, holy night, all is calm all is bright.
"Winter Wonderland" is one of the most popular (and one of the best) secular Christmas songs. The song is distinctive for its feminine rhymes (glistening/listening) and its simple metaphor of a winter landscape as a "wonderland." Pat Boone was one of the "great pop hopes" to replace Elvis with a tamer (and safer) Rock singer. Boone never really sang Rock (at least not good Rock!), but he was a good ballad singer:
Sleigh bells ring, are you listening, in the lane snow is glistening, a beautiful sight we're happy tonight walking in the winter wonderland.
Christmas has given the world many children's songs. "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" is one of the most famous:
You'd better watch out, you'd better not cry, you'd better not pout, I'm telling you why (why?), Santa Claus is coming to town.
Christmas has also given us some rather awful novelty songs. ("Novelty songs" are songs whose main distinction is something unusal or funny about them, rather than the melody or lyric.) These novelty songs include the well-known Chipmunk records ("Christmas Time Is Here") as well as this song about "Mommy" kissing Santa Claus (who, of course, is really her husband).
I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus underneeath the mistletoe last night.
"Here Comes Santa Claus" is one of the more popular children's songs. Elvis recorded this for his first Christmas album, but it was cowboy movie star, Gene Autry who made it famous years before:
Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus, riding down Santa Claus Lane. Vixen and Blitzen and all his reindeer pulling on the reins. Bells are ringing, children singing, all is merry and bright, hang your stockings and say your prayers, cause Santa Claus comes tonight.
Autry also popularized "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," dramatizing the life of one of Santa's reindeer, made famous in the children's verse, "The Night Before Christmas."
Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer had a very shiny nose, and if you ever saw it, you would even say it glows.
With Rudolph's fame, it was only natural that Rock 'n' Roll would find a place for him, as in Chuck Berry's seasonal classic, "Run, Rudolph, Run!":
Out of all the reindeers*, you know you're the master mind, run, run, Rudolph, Randolph ain't too far behind. Run, run Rudolph, Santa's gotta make it to town. Santa make him hurry, tell he can take the freeway down. Run, run Rudolph, cause I'm reeling like a merry-go-round.
*Note, "reindeer" is usually unmarked for plural, though Berry adds an "s."
"The Little Drummer Boy" is one of the better novelty songs and is heard in almost all versions. Famous pop pianist, Liberace recorded a typically flashy version of the song, without lyric.
Black influence on Christmas songs started at least as early as Bessie Smith's 1925 record, "At the Christmas Ball." (Though the greatest of all Blues singers, Smith's "At the Christmas Ball" is strictly speaking not a Blues, which is in the AAB format.) But later Blues and R&B artists had greater influence. The Moonglows, famous for sentimental doo-wop ballads, also recorded this unusual R&B blues, a rarity:
Hey Santa Claus (repeat) Well Santa Claus bring my baby back to me, hey Santa Claus bring my baby back to me.
White teenager, Brenda Lee, had a 1950s hit with one of the first Rock Christmas songs, "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree," still heard and covered today:
Rocking around the Xmas tree at the Xmas party hop, mistletoe hung where you can see every couple tries to stop. Rocking around the Xmas tree, let the Christmas spirit ring, later we'll have some pumpkin pie and we'll do some caroling.
"Jingle Bell Rock," a more inane song, and lacking Lee's ebullient and skilled vocal, followed soon after.
Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock. Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring. Snowing and blowing and bushels of fun, now the jingle hop has begun.
The great Blues artist, Charles Brown, wrote two seminal Christmas Blues. "Please Come Home for Christmas" is heard all over the world at Christmas time. "Merry Christmas Baby" is one of the few Christmas Blues, and a great one. Rock artist, Chuck Berry, wanted to succeed as a Blues singer, but switched to the more lucrative teenage market and almost single-handedly invented Rock and Roll. Slight exaggeration there, but if anyone deserves credit as the Father of Rock and Roll, it's Berry. Berry recorded a great cover of Charles Brown's Christmas Blues, with a tinkling Blues-styled piano and Berry's guitar variation on "White Christmas" featured in the song's musical bridge.
Merry Christmas, baby, you really did treat me nice. Merry Christmas baby, you really did treat me nice. You bought me a hi-fi for Christmas, now I'm living in Paradise. Well I'm feeling mighty fine, I've got good music on my radio. Well I feel so fine, I got good music on my radio. Yes, I wanna hug and kiss you baby, while you're standing beneath the mistletoe.
Rock and Roll did not entirely take over the holiday music market! Disco also made its voice heard, such as on this disco adaptation of a famous Handel tune called, "See the Conquering Hero." George Frederick Handel was a baroque composer (like Bach) and wrote many oratorios (operas without stage action and on religious subjects). One oratorio, Joshua, featured this song, which became an immediate hit. "Zion's Daughter" borrows the tune and pumps it up for a good disco Christmas record. "Zion's daughter," by the way, means the Virgin Mary, that is, daughter of Jerusalem (=Zion).
Zion's daughter, now your heart is full of joy, in a cradle in the manger lies a holy boy. Zion's daughter with your sweet angelic smile, holding in your arms the Christ child resting for a while.
"Blue Christmas" was a big Christmas hit for Elvis Presley, but has been recorded by many artists since, including pop singer, Dean Martin; country singer, Jim Reeves, and French-Canadian chanteuse, Celine Dion. Presley's recording features a four-note guitar hook throughout, especially notable following the lyric, "those blue memories start calling."
I'll have a blue Christmas without, I'll be so blue just thinking about you. Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree, won't be the same, dear, if you're not here with me. And when those blue snowflakes start falling, that's when those blue memories start calling, you'll be doing all right with your Christmas of white, but I'll have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas.
Italian-American pop tenor, Mario Lanza, was especially noted for his sentimental versions of Christmas songs. "O Christmas Tree" is based on the German song, "O Tannebaum" (the melody is also Maryland's state song). "O Holy Night," written by the French ballet composer, Adolphe Adam, has Lanza's signature high note at the end:
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree, forever true your color.
O night, when Christ was born, O night, divine, O night, O night divine. O holy night!
"I'll Be Home for Christmas" is another World War II song whose sad significance is often forgotten. Written from the point of view of a soldier, it tells of his dream to celebrate Christmas at home. Written by Buck Ram, who managed and composed for The Platters ("Only You"), this song is now a standard. Elvis recorded a moving version of the song, successfully blending ballad phrasing (the title phrase, for example) and rhythmic style ("our love-light gleams"; "for Christmas, oh yes!"). Listen to the way he sings, "mistletoe" in a slightly suggestive way. In fact, the bridge (middle part of the ABA1 chorus) is sung in a slightly suggestive manner, while the main strain (A and A1 ) is sung in straight ballad style.
I'll be home for Christmas, you can plan on me. Please have snow and mistletoe and presents on the tree. Christmas Eve will find me, where the love light gleams, I'll be home for Christmas, oh yes, if only in my dreams.
Elvis' first Christmas album offended all but the teenage market on its first release, for two opposite reasons. Adults were angry that Elvis would insult traditional songs, such as "Silent Night," but they also disliked the Rock and Roll songs written specially for the album, which seemed to show disrespect for the holiday. Evident on one of these, "Santa Bring My Baby Back To Me" is Elvis' typical "dirty" phrasing on the words, "I just need my baby's arms a-wound around me tight." (The letter "a" is sometimes added to a word for special dialect effect, as in Bob Dylan's "The Times They Are A-Changin'").
I don't need a lot of presents to make my Christmas bright, I just need my baby's arms a-wound around me tight, oh Santa, hear my plea, Santa bring my baby back to me.
"Santa Claus Is Back in Town," a rare Christmas Blues, is a typical example of Elvis' "dirty" style with a lyric. The way Elvis growls out the line, "You be a real good little girl" almost defines "dirty" singing. The power of Elvis' vocal can still be felt today. No wonder mothers hated him! Yet now he's the most revered icon of twentieth-century pop music, his image on a postage stamp, and heads of state visiting his home, Graceland:
Well it's Christmas time, pretty baby, and the snow is falling on the ground. Well it's Christmas time pretty baby and the snow is falling down, well, you be a real good little girl, Santa Claus is back in town.
Beatle, John Lennon's Christmas song, "Happy Xmas, War is Over," has become a standard, covered recently by Celine Dion. For Bible students, the message goes back to the Letter of James, teaching that "love" without "works" is meaningless. So Lennon asks, "what have you done?"
So this is Christmas and what have you done, another year over, and a new one just begun.
As America becomes a secular nation, many stores try to eliminate the word "Christmas," replacing it with "holiday" instead. This has offended some Christians who have called for a boycott of those stores. This year stores, fearful of losing money, have started saying, "Merry Christmas" again, instead of "Happy Holiday." But this Irving Berlin song is perfect for a secular celebration of the season:
Happy holiday, happy holiday, while the merry bells keep ringing, happy holiday to you!
Johnny Mathis was one of the great balladeers of the 1950s and later. His two Christmas albums include great ballads, such as this "message" song, that, "Christmas Is a Feeling in the Heart." Study the vocal and learn what great phrasing is (the stress on "toys," "bells," "yet," "feeling," "these," and "Christmas," for examples).
There are toys for girls and boys, silver bells make merry noise, yet you should remember from the start, Christmas is a feeling in your heart. Holly wreathes and mistletoe, carols while the candles glow, these are not the most important part, Christmas is a feeling in your heart.
"Marshmallow World" is one of the best novelty Christmas songs, another hymn to the beauty of winter, seen as children's candy:
It's a marshmallow world in the winter when the snow comes to cover the ground, it's the time for play, it's a whipped cream day, I wait for it the whole year round.
Another fine Christmas landscape song:
City sidewalks, busy sidewalks, dressed in holiday style, in the air there's a feeling of Christmas.
This is the only Christmas waltz I know of; it was written (as many Christmas songs are) in the heat of summer, using wintry images to keep cool:
Frosted window panes, candles gleaming inside, painted candy canes on the tree. Santa's on his way, he's filled his sleigh with things, things for you and for me. It's that time of year when the world falls in love, every song you hear seems to say, "Merry Christmas."
Another great snow song is "Let It Snow":
Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful, and since we've no place to go, let is now, let it snow, let it snow.
This may be the most famous "sing along" Christmas song. Like most "sing along" songs, both melody and lyric are simple enough to remember and sing:
We wish you a Merry Christmas, we wish you a Merry Christmas, we wish you a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!
Modeling and Models
in the Writing Process
I advise students that just downloading film reviews is not enough. You must get into the habit of studying them. That's why the shorter the better, since you can study every detail better. Of course the reviews have to be good in the first place. And as I said in class, avoid communal web pages. The writers are not professionally published and may not meet reasonable standards of acceptable prose.in the Writing Process
To analyze, use the following models:
The most common is the 5-W+H model: who, what, where, when, why, how anyway you choose. Who directed the film? Who stars in the film? Who should see the film (young people? people who love horror movies? film lovers?)? Who should not see the film ("people who hate mushy love stories should stay away"). Who edited the film? Who composed the music? Who wrote it? (The list is endless as your imagination).
What is the film about? What is the funniest scene in the comedy? What is the most exciting moment in the suspense thriller? What are the plot twists?
Where can the film be seen? Where does the film take place? Where was it filmed? (Not the same question as "where it takes place," since, for example, though a film "takes place" in Vietnam it might have been filmed in Oregon, US, standing in for Viettnam.)
When does the film take place? When was the film made (if it's an old movie)? When does the film open (if it hasn't already)? When are the screenings? When does the film change its tone from comedy to tragedy (think of Charlie Chaplin's films, such as City Lights)? When does the film slow a bit? When does it achieve greatness? When does it lose its magic? When is music used? When does the actor/actress have a great scene? When is the film/plot confusing?
Why is the film good? bad? too long? not interesting? not as good as another (similar) movie? Why should the viewer see/not see it? Why is the direction good? Why is the music good? Why is the acting good? Why shouldn't young people see it? Why is it the best film this year? the worst film this year?
How does the actor show love? How does the camera show a relationship? invoke suspense? How does the editing slow down a scene? quicken a scene? How does the director keep us interested? How does the movie differ from other movies of its kind? How is it similar to others movies of its kind?
There are other models. One is a model that goes back to Aristotle, called the commonplaces: common places in the composition where one can find something to say, by
1. definition (which can be either who, what, where, etc.),
2. division (list the good performances, good scenes, bad scenes, etc.),
3. testimony (quote other critics or viewers or scholarly texts),
4. comparison/contrast (how it rates among others of its kind),
5. more or less (the film lacks special effects but it has a more serious plot, which is more important),
6. contradiction (what the film is not: if you're looking for easy answers, this is not the film to see; if you want a simple love story, you'll be disappointed, if you're looking for the masterpiece that other reviewers acclaimed the film as, you'll be disappointed, etc.),
7. cause-effect (the film is good because, it's bad because, the acting is good or bad because, etc.).
"Checklisting" is another way to keep control of one's writing. Make a list of what to say the way one makes a shopping list of what to buy. "Sequencing" advances on checklisting by putting the checklist in compositional order (what comes before and after).
The dialogue (writer/reader) method may be the best of all. All good writers are also good readers of what they write.
That's why the Latin poet, Horace, said a writer should not publish until after 8 years have passed! That's because one can read one's work more and more at a distance during that time.
The writer reads the work the next morning and is confused by it himself, or has more questions, or realizes the words are too big, the sentences too long, it gets boring midway, etc.
Then the writer takes over from the reader and improves what was written. Again (maybe the next day) the reader takes over and sees more problems, in a continuous dialogue between writer and reader.
Of course, all this implies the writer has models of good writing stored in memory to begin with; or there's nothing to check one's writing against. So reading is still the bedrock of good writing.
This, from today's online news, is an example of a sentence that needs to be recast, because the modification is confusing: "before serving in World War Two" is in the wrong position, when it should be closer to the subject (Jack Palance).
The way to fix this (as we saw in that blackboard exercise) is by placing that subordinate clause before the subject: "Before serving in World War Two, Jack Palance was a professional boxer, etc.
But in general, the writer is trying to cram too much information in too few words and sentences. The writer wants to say the following in just two sentences:
1. Where Palance was born.
2. When he was born.
3. His ancestry (Ukranian).
4. His birth name.
5. How his birth name was spelled.
6. The fact that he was a professional boxer.
7. The fact that he injured his throat.
8. The fact that he served in World War Two.
9. The fact that he had a raspy voice.
10. The fact that that voice was his trademark.
Clearly there's too much information here for only two sentences!
There are other confusing syntactical relations in this short paragraph, as well as a lack of coherence; since the issue of birth begins the paragraph, then is interrupted by reference to Palance's adult life, then returns to the issue of birth!
The way to improve this paragraph is as follows:
"Jack Palance, the son of Ukranian immigrants, was born in Pennsylvania in 1919. His birth name was Vladimir Palahnuik, variously spelled as Palahniuk or Palaniuk. He became a professional boxer, resulting in a throat injury that left him with his signature raspy voice. Subsequently he served in World War Two."
As can be seen, first I improved coherence, keeping the birth material together, instead of jumping back and forth to that issue. I doubled the sentences, from two to four, for greater clarity (remember the rule of recasting).
A simple appositive ("the son of Ukranian immigrants") allowed me in include the reference to Palance's ancestry at the beginning, next to his name, instead of at the end of the paragraph. Synonymic and noun-pronoun replacement ("birth" for "born" and "his" for "Jack Palance") increased coherence in the following sentence, linking this sentence back to the first sentence. "He" in the third sentence again links back to "Jack Palance," increasing coherence. A simple linking adverb ("Subsequently") and another noun-pronoun replacement ("he" again) link the final sentence to the previous one.
The main point here is reading and recasting. The writer is not at fault (it's a reasonable sentence to write: many good writers write many bad sentences); rather, the reader is at fault (the writer failed to read his or her material after it was written).
Note, there's a difference between "reading over" and "reading"! "Reading over" suggests one is still reading as the writer (merely "proofing" for minor mistakes, like spelling, etc.). "Reading" suggests one is reading as a completely different person: the reader addressed by the writer, thus interacting with what one has written.
Thus, all good writers must be good readers. This means,
1. Reading a lot (thus storing up in memory what one has read), and,
2. Reading what one has written measured against all that one has stored up in memory.
The Blackboard Exercise
Here are some things we should have learned from today's blackboard exercise:1. The power of noun phrases (nouns + adjectives + determiners, like "a") to expand a subject; this is limited only by one's command or use of adjectives;
2. The power of prepositional phrases to modify nouns. This is limited only by one's command or use of prepositions;
3. The use of verbals, such as infinitives, to modify the main noun phrase, as we saw in the beginning of the sentence;
4. The use of simple adverbs to further modify the verb;
5. The importance of syntactical placement, as we saw in the addition of the adverb "unfortunately," which would have been out of place at the end, but well-placed at the beginning, of the sentence;
6. A reminder, in one example, that an apposition must lie right next to the noun subject it defines or describes and be set off by commas (no exceptions; it's an absolute rule);
7. A lesson in proximal (nearby) placement of modifiers; that is, that, usually, the modifier or modifying phrase or clause, must be as close to what it modifies as possible. This is usually a matter of judgment; but once one has developed that sense of judgment, it's easy to spot right from wrong: "He should be married, thirdly" is obviously wrong, with the adverb at the end rather than the beginning: "Thirdly, he should be married."
These, I think, were the most important and enduring lessons learned in today's blackboard exercise; but if someone wrote down that exercise, we can go over it in more detail. (For those interested, it may still be on the blackboard.)
Again, I would stress that one does not consciously write with "absolutes" or "noun phrases" or "verbals," etc. One writes with purpose, audience, and models in mind. A sense of style is not developed by rules but by extensive reading.
Here is a quick rundown on key grammar points mentioned in Chapter One of your Harbrace Guide, for practical uses:
1. A noun is a word that names something: place, person. A noun phrase includes a noun and its modifiers, called attributive modifiers. But the main point is that good writers usually use noun phrases instead of nouns: "The tall, lanky man followed the couple into the parking lot." You can see that "tall, lanky man" is more descriptive, because more specific, than just "man."
2. Proper nouns are names, like Joe, Jane, Paris, etc. Proper nouns add color to writing, based on what has been called the realist code. Writing just seems more real when it has proper nouns attached to it. "Vienna" is better than "city" (a common noun). As usual, sometimes being more general is better. "The suspect enjoyed playing violent video games" is good enough for a police report, instead of naming the actual games. But for a novel about a disturbed youth, the name of the game would be required (or made-up name).
3. Pronouns, as the name shows, stands in place of nouns: he, she, they, his, her, they, them, this, that, these, those, it, etc. These are very useful since they create coherence, for they refer BACK. "John went to the store. John came home. John turned on the television set. John went to sleep." It sounds incoherent because each sentence doesn't refer back to the previous sentence. By repeating "John," it seems that John is new each sentence. Compare: "John went to the store, then he came home. He turned on the television set and then he went to sleep."
4. Adjectives modify nouns. Attributive adjectives are attached to nouns; predicate adjectives modify nouns after the verb. Adjective must have a use; just to write down adjectives to do homework is not the way to use them. Mark Twain said about adjectives, when in doubt, cross it out. I use adjectives much less than I used to; especially those meaningless words like "great," "beautiful," etc. "Leonardo's beautiful Mona Lisa" is not as good as "Leonardo's Mona Lisa." "Mozart's great Jupiter Symphony" is not as good as "Mozart's Jupiter Symphony." (There are exceptions, based on judgment.)
5. Articles. The main thing to learn here is that "an" precedes a vowel; and the definite article means what it says: it is used after a thing has already been defined (hence "definite"). "John and Jill had a love affair. The love affair ruined their marriage to other spouses." Note that the first time "love affair" was used it received the indefinite article; the second time it received the definite article, because it was already defined in the previous sentence. This can be tricky though. "Millie and June lived alone. The telephone was in the kitchen." Here, though telephone has not been defined, it is commonly assumed that everyone has a telephone, like everyone has a television set: "Bob and Mike were brothers who lived in one room. The television set was near the window." That doesn't mean the indefinite article could not also be used acceptably, too.
The other thing to learn about articles is that usually abstract nouns don't them get, while concrete nouns do. "Basketball is my favorite sport." "The basketball is on the table." Often plural nouns don't get them: "People are funny." "Singers often make more money performing at concerts than on records."
6. A preposition should give you no trouble; but their use is based on usage, not grammar. That is, one simply learns that "on" combines with some noun phrases, "in" with others, etc. One says, "on the beach" not "in the beach." This is a matter of usage, since some languages change usage. That's where reading comes in. The prepositional phrase combines a preposition with a noun phrase to modify another noun: "The man with the long beard died." "With the long beard" modifes the noun phrase, "the man."
7. Conjunctions join words. Coordinate conjunctions join words of equal value. "The man and the woman knew Russian." That is, the man and the woman are equal subjects. "The woman knew German, but the man didn't." This implies both are equal. Obviously conjunctions build coherence, because they link what comes before with what comes after. Compare: "The woman knew German. The man didn't know German."
Our textbook gives a good mnemonic (memory aid) for the 7 coordinating conjunctions: FANBOYS, which stands for for, and, nor, but, or , yet, so.
(Mnemonics [pronounced: knee-MON-icks) are memory aids made up of common words. To remember the five great American lakes, our teachers taught us the word HOMES. So we remembered Lake Huron, Lake Ontario, Lake Michigan, Lake Erie, and Lake Superior. We remembered the steps of the G-staff by the sentences, "Every Good Boy Does Fine" (for the lines of the staff) and the word FACE for the spaces between the lines of the staff.)
8. Correlative conjunctions go in pairs. These help coherence too for the same reason as regular conjunctions (above). "Neither the man nor the woman had seen the movie." (Note that Edgar Allan Poe violated this rule in the excerpt I sent you; that's why I failed him when he was in my class in 1844.)
A strong correlative conjunction pair is "not only . . . but also," since they obviously create coherence. All writers learn to link what comes before with what comes after. That's the rule of coherence. This is done by pronoun replacement, or the general principle of replacement. It's done by ellipsis (omitting words, thus forcing the reader to think back in order to complete the thought: "Sally came, and John too." By omitting "came" after John, the reader is forced to think back. Noun replacement also forces coherence: "The woman worked at the local library. The librarian was twenty-nine years old." "Librarian" replaces "woman."
9. Subordination is another key tool of coherence, linking before and after: "Because she didn't pay her bill, her electricity was cut off." "Although Will is a good student, he has had little experience teaching." Compare: "Will is a good student. He has had little experience teaching." Other subordinating conjunctions are "when" and "if."
10. Interjections are usually followed by punctuation and express emotion at the beginning or before a sentence, as your book says. They should pose no problem of usage, but are best reserved for casual letters or dialogue (quoting others in a story).
11. Vocatives are nouns or proper nouns when they are addressed: "Lord, help me, please." Here "Lord" is a noun but is being addressed. "Jill, please pass the salt." "Jill" is a proper noun used as a vocative.
12. As for verbs, always remember the basic rule of past tense: if something happened one second ago, it's past. It's simple. Yet students violate that rule all the time.
13. Auxiliary verbs help to define the verb (see book). "Have" is one of the most common: "They have gone home."
14. Complements complete the verb, either by a direct or indirect object. Indirect objects are identified by answering the question to whom, for whom, etc. So in the book example, "to" can prove the complement is an indirect object: "The chair sent [to] the committeee mmebers an agenda for the meeting."
Parsing (dividing) sentences used to be common in older education, but not so common today. But the book gives some examples. The object of the verb, above, is "an agenda." "For the meeting" modifies the noun phrase, "an agenda." The "agenda" is "for the meeting."
15. Subject and object complements are simply explained in your textbook.
16. As your book shows (p. 19) some direct objects are clauses: "Researchers found that patients responded favorably to the new medications." The relative clause, "that patients," etc. answers the question, "what"? "What did the researched find?"
17. Asking questions of nouns identifies them as direct or indirect objects: "The supervisor gave the new employees computers." What did the supervisor give? "To whom did she give them? The first question would prove the direct object; the second question would prove the indirect object.
18. Appositives are very powerful tools to improve writing by descriptive phrasing and economy. They are joined to the main noun phrase and explains it. We discussed this in class: "Bill Gates, head of Microsoft, donated twenty million dollars to the college." Here "head of Microsoft" is an appositive, linked to Bill Gates by a comma adjacent to it. Appositives can only appear in this way and are defined by being set off by commas next to the noun.
19. Study the five sentence patterns on 0. 22.
20. Demonstrative pronouns, as their name shows, point to previous nouns and are therefore strong coherence pronouns: "Elvis Presley's first recordings were made for Sun Records in 1954. These sides defined the early Rock 'n' Roll blend of rhythm and blues and hillbilly." "These" links back with "first recordings," replacing that phrase. Demonstrative pronouns include this, that, these, those.
21. Verbs can be used in different forms. As nouns they are called gerunds. "Smoking is bad for you." What is bad for you? "Smoking." Hence "smoking" is a noun, though it's made from a verb.
22. Participial phrases may seem confusing, but they can be easily recognized by being set off by commas. There are other ways to identify them, but this seems the simplest. Thus, in "Planning her questions became an obession" "Planning her questions" is a gerund phrase because there's no comma. But compare: "Planning her questions carefully, she was able to hold fast-paced and engaging interviews." Or even, "Planning her questions, she was able to hold fast-paced and engaging interviews." The main point is that the comma and extra subject ("she") defines that phrase as a participial, not a gerund. It is a participial phrase, easily identified by being set off by a comma. The book gives another example, "Known for her interviewing skills, she was asked to host her own radio program." As the book says, "ing" an "ed" words define participial phrases. The problem is, "ing" words are also used as gerunds, for subjects. So look for the comma, and that may help.
23. As the book also shows, some participial phrases do not get commas, but these are in the middle of the sentence.
24. Commas also define restrictive and nonrestrictive clauses. If there's a comma, it must be nonrestrictive (assuming the writer is correct). "The book, which is on the table, is War and Peace. Here, "which is on the table," is not essential for defining the book. Compare: "The book that is on the table is War and Peace." Here the relative clause is restrictive because not offset by commas. Usually "that" is used for restrictive and "which" for nonrestrictve clauses. In general, commas around a phrase or clause define nonrestriction (not restricting or limiting the noun).
25. Infinitive phrases should pose no problem, since they are easily identified by "to," though exceptions are noted (p. 29).
26. Common prepositions are shown on p. 33. Phrasal prepositions are shown at the bottom of the page.
27. Finally, we get to absolutes. Basically an absolute is both a noun that cannot function alone but functions only to modify an independent sentence. Compare examples on p. 35: "all her belongings packed into a Volkswagen Beetle" includes a noun phrase subject and a verb form ("packed") yet is not itself the main subject or verb but merely modifies the main subject and verb. "Packed into a Volkswagen Beetle" by itself would be a participial phrase, "Packed into a Volkswagen Beetle, the woman passed ten red lights." But the noun phrase, "all her belongings," makes it an absolute. The word "absolute" refers to the absolute status of the noun, which has no verb or predicate so is not itself a subject but rather relies on the subject of the main sentence.
Excerpts from TWO STORIES by Edgar Allan Poe
I am still puzzled by students who believe, after all I told them in both ESL and composition classes, that they learn by speaking or writing; actually you learn by reading or listening.
The practice that comes from writing is only when one has a sufficient store (a "thesaurus") of models to draw from, as from a bank account: first one puts the money in, then one withdraws it (takes it out). But you must have it in first, otherwise you're robbing a bank! You must have something in your mind first, otherwise, though you think you're practicing writing, all you're doing is robbing time.
So I don't want to be misunderstood: certainly laboring over a paragraph for an entire morning, using one's memory of all one has read, will certainly help one be a better writer! But one must have something to remember first. Inspiration, as someone mysteriously said, is a long memory! That means, all we're doing when we create is relying on our memory.
When I was a teenager, a few years before they invented cell phones, I had nothing better to do but memorize complete stories (I'm not making this up) and, of course, poetry too, which is easier because of its rhythms and rhymes.
But some prose is so well written it is like poetry, with distinct rhythms. Poe's prose is like this.
I'm going to ask you to memorize at least four lines from any text below. These are passages from The Masque of the Red Death and The Tell-Tale Heart.
(If you click on the links above you will be directed to the original websites that have the complete stories. I know how most of you wish to escape from the boredom of your cell phones and can't wait to read some Poe.)
Here I'll point out a little of the beauty of this prose.
Note first the strong verb ("devastated," which means "destroyed").
"Pestilence" is an example of a replacement word to insure coherence (replacing "Red Death" by synonym).
Note the repetition that follows: "so fatal, or so hideous," a kind of rhyme, which is all that rhyme is, though we usually understand it to mean repeating exact sounds. "Its" is another example of replacement coherence (refers back to "Red Death").
(Do you see how each sentence is linked, like fingers clasped together?)
"Seal" replaces, by predication, "Blood," as does "Avatar." "Redness" and "horror" do the same, referring back to "blood."
The practice that comes from writing is only when one has a sufficient store (a "thesaurus") of models to draw from, as from a bank account: first one puts the money in, then one withdraws it (takes it out). But you must have it in first, otherwise you're robbing a bank! You must have something in your mind first, otherwise, though you think you're practicing writing, all you're doing is robbing time.
So I don't want to be misunderstood: certainly laboring over a paragraph for an entire morning, using one's memory of all one has read, will certainly help one be a better writer! But one must have something to remember first. Inspiration, as someone mysteriously said, is a long memory! That means, all we're doing when we create is relying on our memory.
When I was a teenager, a few years before they invented cell phones, I had nothing better to do but memorize complete stories (I'm not making this up) and, of course, poetry too, which is easier because of its rhythms and rhymes.
But some prose is so well written it is like poetry, with distinct rhythms. Poe's prose is like this.
I'm going to ask you to memorize at least four lines from any text below. These are passages from The Masque of the Red Death and The Tell-Tale Heart.
(If you click on the links above you will be directed to the original websites that have the complete stories. I know how most of you wish to escape from the boredom of your cell phones and can't wait to read some Poe.)
Here I'll point out a little of the beauty of this prose.
Note first the strong verb ("devastated," which means "destroyed").
"Pestilence" is an example of a replacement word to insure coherence (replacing "Red Death" by synonym).
Note the repetition that follows: "so fatal, or so hideous," a kind of rhyme, which is all that rhyme is, though we usually understand it to mean repeating exact sounds. "Its" is another example of replacement coherence (refers back to "Red Death").
(Do you see how each sentence is linked, like fingers clasped together?)
"Seal" replaces, by predication, "Blood," as does "Avatar." "Redness" and "horror" do the same, referring back to "blood."
THE "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal -- the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.
The second paragraph begins by antithesis, "but," linking it, coherently, with the paragraph before.
Then Poe uses what is called in rhetoric, polysyndeton; that is, many conjunctions (ands), exactly what we're taught NOT to do as children! But like I said in class, the good writer KNOWINGLY violates (abuses) language; hence the term, in Latin, "abusio."
Finally, notice how pronoun replacements (possessive pronoun, "his," subject pronoun, "he," demonstrative pronoun, "this," "these") create coherence by linking each phrase to one before and after. "Courtiers" in turn replaces "knights" of a few sentences back, always forcing the reader to establish relationships, thus coherence. "The prince" also refers back to the proper noun that began the paragraph: "Prospero."
But note that Poe violates the rule of negative correlation ("neither . . . nor") by having "neither . . . or"). For this reason, I'm failing him in my class.
This is the final paragraph. Nobody could write opening and final paragraphs like Poe. A conventional simile is used, from the Bible: "like a thief in the night."
Note the mockery by repeating "revellers" and "revel" (another kind of rhyme by repeating the root of a word, like "love" and "lovable" and "lovely").
Then notice the maddening repetition of "and" (polysyndeton again), reaching its climax in the final sentence: "And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all." All this means is, "Disease had conquered everyone!"
But that dull sentence became magic in Poe's style, with repetition of the "l" sound ("held illimitable" "all") and the heavy word, "dominion."
And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.
THE TELL-TALE HEART
We notice the quick (exclamatory) beginning ("True!"), the good use of a hyphen for emphasis right after, the repetition of "very," which captures the nervousness of the speaker/writer, and the sudden use of the definite article ("the") when nothing has been defined yet, placing the reader as if in the middle of a confession.
So the story begins in a breathless manner.
Then we get more repetition ("not destroyed, not dulled").
"Above all" is a good linking phrase, to establish coherence, since it refers back to a previous idea.
Note the use of a rhetorical question ("How, then, am I mad?"), which can be overused by students, but can be effective when sparingly used.
More repetition follows ("how healthily, how calmly") at the end of the paragraph; that phrase too works by antithesis (opposing "mad" with "health" and "calm," so referring back again and insuring coherence).
So the story begins in a breathless manner.
Then we get more repetition ("not destroyed, not dulled").
"Above all" is a good linking phrase, to establish coherence, since it refers back to a previous idea.
Note the use of a rhetorical question ("How, then, am I mad?"), which can be overused by students, but can be effective when sparingly used.
More repetition follows ("how healthily, how calmly") at the end of the paragraph; that phrase too works by antithesis (opposing "mad" with "health" and "calm," so referring back again and insuring coherence).
TRUE! - nervous - very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses - not destroyed - not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily - how calmly I can tell you the whole story.
Two Study Songs
Week of 25 October 2006
THEY ALL LAUGHED
This song by the Gershwin brothers (George and Ira) is one of many standards the brothers wrote. George Gerhswin is world famous as the concert composer of Rhapsody in Blue, Concerto in F, and An American in Paris. But with brother Ira, he wrote some of America's greatest songs, for both Broadway and Hollywood. Week of 25 October 2006
THEY ALL LAUGHED
"They All Laughed" is built on proper nouns: that is, names of famous people and their specific contributions to history.
The verse begins strongly on an idiomatic phrase ("the odds were a hundred to one"), almost pulling us into the song. Then follows a general remark: "the world thought the heights too high." It's general, but it poses a problem that will be solved: proving the world wrong. Besides it leads into a very specific (and funny) proper noun: "Missouri" (suggesting that people from Missouri are not very sophisticated!). This includes a strong verb, "incensed" (perfectly chosen by the way). Then we get a cause-effect argument: history teaches important lessons. Then follows an idiomatic use of repetition to replace an intensive adverb; that is, instead of "very," the singer sings, "many, many" (as "very starry" becomes "starry, starry" or "very red" becomes "red, red," etc). These figures of speech are so common they seem obvious; they aren't, though. All writing is hard work that seems obvious because the writer took care to make it seem so. The verse concludes with the topic sentence of the chorus: "how many times the world had turned."
The chorus follow with many proper nouns: the names of famous people: Columbus, Edison, the Wright Brothers, Marconi. These are what are called examples, another part of good writing. The idiomatic, "wireless [radio] was a phony" makes us laugh, while "cry" is a vivid noun and part of the idiomatic phrase, "it's the same old. . . ."
Other idiomatic expressions follow in the song's bridge (the middle part): "reaching for the moono" and "change their tune" (meaning, change their opinion). In another context, these tired idioms might be the wrong choice; but here they work precisely because the singer is mocking conventional reactions (remember the dismissive reference to "people from Missouri"!).
After the song returns from the bridge into the main strain, another idiom appears with, "and how" (meaning, really, or, a lot); an idiom that captures the way people really talk. Then the song ends with charming quotations of the singer laughing at those who laughed at her, ending with a famous idiom: the last laugh:
The odds were a hundred to one against me. The world thought the heights were too high to climb. But people from Missouri never incensed me. Oh, I wasn't a bit concerned, for from history I had learned, how many, many times the world had turned. {Chorus}
They all laughed at Christopher Columbus when he said the world was round. They all laughed when Edison recorded sound. They all laughed at Wilbur and his brother when they said that man could fly. They told Maroni, wireless was a phony, it's the same old cry! {Bridge} They all laughed at me wanting you, said I was reaching for the moon. But oh you came through, now they'll have to change their tune. They all said we never could be happy, they laughed at us and how. But ho-ho-ho who's got the last laugh? He-he-he, let's have the last laugh. Ha-ha-ha, who's got the last laugh now?
AMERICA
This song is from what many consider the greatest American musical, West Side Story, by Leonard Bernstein (music) and Stephen Sondheim (lyrics). Bernstein almost dominated twentieth century music as America's greatest concert conducter, a gifted Broadway composer (Candide, On the Town), Oscar-nominated film composer (On the Waterfront), television personality and lecturer (on Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, for example), pianist (Mozart, Gershwin recordings) and concert composer (three symphonies, the ballet, Fancy Free, the famous Mass, and other music). As conductor of the New York Philharmonic and the Vienna Philharmonic, his recordings of the classical music repertoire (from Bach and Mozart to Mahler and Copland) are considered among the greatest of the century.West Side Story is a Broadway adaptation of Shakespeare's Rome and Juliet, with the two Italian families becoming caucasian and Puerto Rican teenagers. The musical was a sensation when it opened in New York in 1957. Its fiery Latin dances, use of bongo drums, sassy lyrics and wordplay, and vibrant jazz rhythms brought it instant fame and even notoriety in the age of youth gangs; while its songs dominated the airwaves for years, many becoming hits. As a movie it won Best Picture and nine other Oscars. Recorded as an opera, it starred Jose Carerras and Kiri te Kanawa.
"America" makes clever use of the commonplace called "comparison and contrast." Two groups of Puerto Rican Americans compare and contrast the virtues and vices of their native island, Puerto Rico (Rosalia is for Puerto Rico while Anita is for America, where they both live as recent immigrants).
Rosalia praises Puerto Rico for its "tropical breezes," "pineapples growing," and "coffee blossoms blowing." Anita sees the other side of Puerto Rico: "tropic diseases," "hurricanes blowing," "population growing," "money owing," "babies crying," and "bullets flying." The faulty language constructions ("always the pineapples growing") are not only allowed as "poetic license" for the sake of rhyme, but add humor, because gently mocking the second-language speech of these recent immigrants. The jumbled proverb, "Smoke on your pipe and put that in" ("Put that in your pipe and smoke it") not only sounds specifically like weakly constructed English typical of a recent American immigrant but, of course, allows for a charming rhyme.
The main point is that both women find specific examples to support their argument, pro or con. They don't just sing, generally, that, "Puerto Rico is lovely" or "Puerto Rico is ugly."
We get humor too. "Everything [is] free" but "for a small fee," which is called a contradiction in terms.
Where Rosalia examples the "hundreds of flowers in full bloom," Anita contrasts with "hundreds of people in each room"! Then follow more examples of American economic advantages: automobiles, chromium steel, wire-spoke wheels. All this, in idiomatic usage, is called a "big deal," which charmingly allows immigrants to use American idiomatic speech.
Rosalia imagines driving a Buick [automobile make] in San Juan, but Anita contrasts this by wondering if there's a road to drive on! And when Rosalia mentions her cousins, Anita mocks the supposed fertility of Puerto Rican mothers! But other Puerto Ricans in turn point out racial discrimination in America against Puerto Ricans ("nobody knows Puerto Ricos").
More comparison and contrasts follow, comparing American wealth and the supposed poverty of Puerto Rico (no electricity [current] and no clothes, which suggests that there's no point in buying a washing machine or TV set.
Additional specific details follow in praise of America (knobs on the doors, wall-to-wall floors). The song ends with the praise of Puerto Rican hospitality ("give big cheer"), but Anita contrast this by suggesting by the time Rosalia goes back to Puerto Rico everyone in Puerto Rico would have already gone to America.
ROSALIA: Puerto Rico, You lovely island . . . Island of tropical breezes. Always the pineapples growing, Always the coffee blossoms blowing . . .
ANITA: Puerto Rico . . . You ugly island. Island of tropic diseases. Always the hurricanes blowing, Always the population growing . . .
And the money owing, And the babies crying, And the bullets flying. I like the island Manhattan. Smoke on your pipe and put that in!
OTHERS: I like to be in America! O.K. by me in America! Ev'rything free in America For a small fee in America!
ROSALIA: I like the city of San Juan.
ANITA: I know a boat you can get on.
ROSALIA: Hundreds of flowers in full bloom.
ANITA: Hundreds of people in each room!
ALL: Automobile in America, Chromium steel in America, Wire-spoke wheel in America,
Very big deal in America!
ROSALIA: I'll drive a Buick through San Juan.
ANITA: If there's a road you can drive on.
ROSALIA: I'll give my cousins a free ride.
ANITA: How you get all of them inside?
ALL: Immigrant goes to America, Many hellos in America; Nobody knows in America Puerto Rico's in America!
ROSALIA: I'll bring a T.V. to San Juan.
ANITA: If there a current to turn on!
ROSALIA: I'll give them new washing machine.
ANITA: What have they got there to keep clean?
ALL: I like the shores of America! Comfort is yours in America! Knobs on the doors in America, Wall-to-wall floors in America!
ROSALIA: When I will go back to San Juan.
ANITA: When you will shut up and get gone?
ROSALIA: Everyone there will give big cheer!
ANITA: Everyone there will have moved here!
Writing Skills and The Seven Year Itch
RICHARD DE CANIO
A film can teach as much about writing as about movies. That's because a movie relies on concrete images to make its point. Other elements of writing style are also featured in movies, such as theme, focus, completeness, coherence (the orderly sequence of ideas), and writing itself (as dialogue).RICHARD DE CANIO
This can be observed in the movie, The Seven Year Itch (Billy Wilder, 1955). The film features Marilyn Monroe, fulfilling every man's fantasy of a next-door neighbor. For this reason Monroe (the "Girl") has no name in the film.
The comedy is a perfect vehicle for Monroe, since it's entirely about sex. But how can one elaborate about sex in two hours?
Mainly director, Billy Wilder aims for lower levels of generality. "Sex" is an abstract word and not funny. But a "seven year itch" is specific, so funny.
So Wilder's main character, Richard (Tom Ewell) scratches himself and shows other symptoms of the sex urge, like chain smoking, drinking, twitching his thumb, and feeling hot all over (after all, it's summer, as if that mattered). More audaciously, Wilder has Richard flop in frustration on his bed or squirt seltzer water into a glass after viewing Monroe's legs cooling in front of an air conditioner.
As film scholar, Andre Bazin suggested, erotic imagery like this was a reaction against strict censorship. Bazin cites the scene of Monroe standing over the subway vent, one of the most iconic images in the Hollywood cinema.
The film begins by comparing today's male and yesterday's males (then called Indians), showing the sex urge has not changed in hundreds of years, while reminding us that Manhattan is only an island (a map shows this), not the civilized center of art and commerce we think. Just so, behind the civilized father and husband is a sex beast.
The monster is multiply mirrored when Richard thinks of himself as Wilde's Dorian Gray (mirrors suggest split identity in movies). This theme is symbolized by the movie title, The Creature from the Black Lagoon.
But as the "Girl" herself says, all the "beast" needed was a little love. The joke comes from two meanings of "love" (as in "making love").
By showing Indians bidding their wives farewell and today's American, Richard, bidding his wife (Helen) farewell, the link between "primitive" males and the modern male is shown. This proves the writing rule: to show, not tell.
The film's main color is yellow: a summer color, suggesting heat. The front door of Richard's apartment house is yellow; Tom MacKenzie, viewed as Richard's sexual threat, is attired in yellow, as are other characters.
More importantly, the son's paddle is yellow. It is accidentally left in Richard's possession at the train station. This suggests Richard's unconscious link to his Indian ancestors, but also his ties to his family.
So the paddle is a complex symbol of sex and the need to suppress it. After Richard impulsively kisses the "Girl," the paddle is nearby, as a reminder of his "running amok."
There's also a sly pun (mails/males) during Richard's spoken thoughts on mailing the paddle back to his family (a way to keep his mind off of sex): "People send paddles every day. The mails are full of paddles. How do they do it?"
How do they do what? Is Richard thinking of paddles?
First, the mails are not full of paddles (it's hard to imagine a paddle sent through the mail). So the paddle must be a symbol for something else: the male urge, which "males are full of." Wrapping the paddle is an attempt to control that urge, with similar futility (though the goal is finally achieved with newspapers).
This sex theme is developed in the book jacket covers (Richard works for a pulp publisher), featuring beastly males in predatory poses with desirable females. This idea is repeated in the movie title, The Beast from the Black Lagoon.
Humming fans and cool drinks suggest a continuous need for relief from the heat and something else. Yellow, the film's main color, suggests summer heat as well as sexual heat.
But the air conditioners in Richard's house are all turned off, until the "Girl" appears, suggesting the only way to cool down is (as Richard says) "to bring the body temperature down." So he invites the "Girl" into his apartment.
Yet Richard disciplines his body for the manly art of abstinence. For example, he "goes vegetarian" at a health food restaurant. That may not sound funny; but the specific menu items are: soybean hamburger, peppermint tea, and sauerkraut juice, all counting fewer than 260 calories. (In the 1950s, when the film was made, few in the audience would have enjoyed such fare.)
We also see Richard rolling up his sleeves: as if work could replace the lure of the bedroom. The yellow facade of his building suggests otherwise.
Wilder also takes a dig at the then unspoken theme of homosexuality. Richard refers to two male tenants in his building as "those two guys on the top floor: interior decorators or something."
Note that "two tenants" would not be funny; not even "two male tenants." But two male "interior decorators" are funny (whether acceptably so today is another matter).
The point is that without being specific the dialogue would be without humor. Besides, while getting a laugh, it also advances the film's sex theme.
Enjoying temporary bachelorhood, Richard thinks with relief of "no more Howdy Doody, Captain Video," two popular children's programs of the period. But specific names (proper nouns) evoke amusement, not the more general idea, "children's programs."
It's not a general reference to a nagging wife that makes characters come alive. It's specific dialogue, such as his wife's, "Use the can opener, Richard."
Using dialogue at the right moment is what good writers do. Later Richard imagines his absent wife asking, "What happened at the office, Richard?" and he answers (comically specific): "I shot Mr. Brady in the head, made violent love to Miss Morris, and set fire to 200,000 copies of Little Women."
Note the proper nouns (Mr. Brady, Miss Morris, Little Women) and specific actions. Otherwise there's no humor. Compare: "I shot someone, had sex, and burned 200,000 books." Not funny.
Later Richard drinks a soda but prefers "scotch, plain water, and a twist of lemon." Not only the drink is mentioned, but the specific ingredients of it, using the idiomatic phrase, "twist of lemon."
Similarly, Richard doesn't bring a book home with him, but "Dr. Brubaker's manuscript." We haven't met Dr. Brubaker yet: it doesn't matter. The book seems real attached to a proper noun.
When Richard slips on his son's rollerskate, he muses about the other one, "I know it's lurking here somewhere," using a strong verb ("lurking"), which makes the dialogue come alive.
Monroe's first appearance is specifically visualized as a romantic haze, like her lack of name. When Marilyn Monroe plays a character, she doesn't need a name.
Monroe satisfies every male's fantasy of the "Girl" next door: with any luck, that is. Such a romantic encounter requires a soundtrack like the Rachmaninov Second Piano Concerto, which underscores Monroe's first appearance and voices the romantic urge throughout.
Specific idiomatic usage allows for a comic play with words when Monroe requests to Richard, "Would you mind pressing me again." She means to press the door buzzer because her dress is caught. But Richard imagines an erotic meaning. Colorful idiomatic usage allows for more comic possibilities than general usage, such as, "Open the door."
Specific touches add humor to Richard's erotic fantasies of being sexually attacked in his office, a hospital bed, and on the beach. The general idea is not funny; the specific ideas are. (The ocean scene is also funny because it refers to the famous love scene in From Here to Eternity, with Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr as the romantic couple.)
The routine in the hospital bed is richly comic because of specifics like the patient's "stitches" and "adhesions," the roll bed, and hospital orderlies behaving so we recognize them.
Other fantasy scenes are also played with economy and comic effect, such as the romantic fantasy with the candelabra (candles) and the piano; or Helen as the outraged wife, shooting her husband.
In the same way, Monroe's toothpaste commercial is amusing because it's specific, including a proper noun for the tooth paste (Dazzledent Toothpaste). Also, Richard's fantasy of the "Girl" exposing their encounter is funny only in the specific way shown in the film: as a television announcement.
To sum up, Wilder's comedy found specific and concrete images for his general idea (sex).
It's complete because recognizable incidents of such an encounter are shown (meeting the girl, phoning her, going to a movie together, sharing drinks, concealing her, etc.).
It's coherent because each incident follows in an orderly way (the heat, the wife's vacation, the falling flower pot, the neighborly invitation, etc.).
Its metaphors (today's male as primitive man, or summer heat as sex heat) are simple but effective.
The dialogue is specific and concrete, with strong verbs. A rhetorical figure, epistrophe (repeating last words of successive phrases) is used to suggest Richard's sexual obsession, as when he stresses his son's paddle (symbol of his sex urge, which Richard wants to get rid of): "Little Ricky needs his paddle, got to have his paddle, going to get his paddle" (similar to Lincoln's, "government of the people, by the people, for the people").
Symbolism is used well (the paddle, the color yellow, pulp magazine covers, body twitches and itches, chain smoking, etc.).
The film's theme (the sex urge) is obvious and focus is kept. This does not mean one idea, but that all ideas (family, music, heat, work) are subordinate to a main idea.
Finally, the film has a strong conclusion, which answers the beginning. This is what good writing does.
The sex urge, repressed, returns at the end, in Richard's futile attempt to wrap the paddle, the same paddle used in the Indian prologue. The "Girl's" entry into Richard's apartment, through the duplex passage, suggsts that Richard faces, then masters, the urge: we see him sleeping on the couch (though twitching), the wrapped paddle on the table.
The implied problem of the beginning (how to deal with the sex urge) is "answered" at the end by Richard returning to his wife, thus satisfying his urge but also his marital commitment.
In the meantime, by punching out Tom MacKenzie (note the yellow jacket and socks Tom wears), whom Richard envies, he finds an acceptable outlet for his sexual denial.
The passive male (as seen in his fantasies) has become aggressive, able to meet the demands of married life. At the same time, he (like the males in the audience) has enjoyed a sex encounter in fantasy: in cinemascope and stereophonic sound, as Richard's wife, Helen, says.
The fadeout, after Monroe sneaks into Richard's apartment at the end, is a tease, defying moral and movie codes. But we imagine something has happened, no matter what the movie shows. So the viewing men are satisfied, and the women too: being (in fantasy) as desirable as Monroe.
That's how a general idea, not promising in itself, became an entertaining movie.
A student asked an interesting question, whether a general adjective like "beautiful" was better than a specific adjective, since it would allow for a wider play of personal imagination. Well, this is great logic, but not great writing!
Proof of this might best be seen in more sensuous writing, such as description of food. The word "food" might evoke any image in the reader's mind, but not arouse the reader like specific and concrete nouns would: "Food" is not as arousing as, "a thin-crust pizza baked in tomato sauce with sliced pepperoni and pineapple toppings."
Not that that's a superb description, but it's better than "food"!
While we're at it, I like Mark Twain's advice about adjectives: "When in doubt, cross it out." I feel the same way about adverbs. The good writer should be able to say it by finding the precise noun, rather than lazily choosing the less-than-perfect noun and then using an adjective to make it better.
Why write "beautiful house" when one can write, instead: "It was a two-room cottage of stucco frame walls painted Emerald green, with an ebony oaken door and two French windows that opened over part of the Irish sea." Makes you want to live there.
Once upon a holiday
While I slept my life away
I thought of getting up, but wondered how:
Just then I heard the single word, "Meow!"
I suddenly became aware
There was a campus reading room, somewhere;
I even thought of going there,
And for this purpose made a vow,
But then I heard the single word, "Meow!"
Lazily I lingered in my bed:
Yawning wide, I then began to scratch my head;
I knew that some day I would study, but not now:
For still I heard the single word, "Meow!"
Conceding there were poets I should know,
And since there was no place for me to go
That hour, I read some Edgar Allan Poe,
As if to get my mind from off the row
That came from outside, sounding like, "Meow!"
The two-note refrain of that tuneless song,
As if a demon had a hammer and a gong;
Or if a novice violinist with his bow
Could only scrape one dismal tune, "Meow!"
I felt a sudden deathly chill;
I thought of making out my will,
Including relatives I would endow;
And all the while I heard that word, "Meow!"
I didn't want him prowling anymore,
And so to scare him with a noise inside my door
I aimed my fist against my palm, and pow!
But still it answered just the word, "Meow!"
The fever burned inside my weary head
And almost made me wish I was in school instead,
With Donne and Shakespeare, though I really dread
That dumb archaic usage, like "Enow."
As if to mock those bards, it said, "Meow!"
It almost made me get up out of bed,
But when I tried, I strained my back instead!
Not fond of pain, I shouted, "Ow!"
Still all it answered was the single word, "Meow!"
I pined to get away from there
And was quite willing to go anywhere:
A cruise to France or dumped aboard a scow:
It didn't matter anyhow,
So long as it was far from that "Meow!"
Now thinking that perhaps all hope was lost,
I sought some comfort at whatever cost;
Discarding Poe, I read some Robert Frost.
Yet still it spoke the single word, "Meow!"
Yet still it spoke the single word, "Meow!"
Aroused from desultory reading in my flat,
My intuition told me strongly that
Perhaps the sound came from my neighbor's cat,
Who only knew two vowels. "Wow!
"It's just my neighbor's cat who says, 'Meow,'"
I thought, relieved. But so excited after that,
It happened I forgot the English word for "cat,"
So using Chinese asked, "Are you my neighbor's mow?"
But all it answered was the word, "Meow!"
Arising from my bed (don't ask me how)
I saw the fiend that uttered that "Meow."
I let her in and fed her feline stew;
Now peacefully she purrs, and murmurs, "Mew!"
Now peacefully she purrs, and murmurs, "Mew!"
But out of them has grown the first movement of a great symphony. A movement so economical and consistent that almost every bar of it is a direct development of these opening four notes.
People have wondered for years what it is that endows this musical figure with such potency. All kinds of fanciful music appreciation theories have been advanced. That it is based on the song of a bird Beethoven heard in the Vienna woods. That it is Fate knocking at the door. That it is a friend of his knocking at the door. And more of the same.
But none of these interpretations tells us anything. The truth is that the real meaning lies in the notes that follow it. All the notes of all the five hundred measures that follow it. And Beethoven more than any other composer before or after him, I think, had the ability to find these exactly right notes.
But even he who had that ability to such a remarkable degree had a gigantic struggle to achieve this rightness: not only the right notes, but the right rhythms, the right climaxes, the right harmonies, the right instrumentation. We are going to try to trace that struggle for you.
Now all of us are familiar with the composer's struggle to find the right melodies and the right thematic material. We have all been privileged to watch Schumann and Brahms and other greats of the silver screen agonizing over the keyboard as they search for the right tune.
We have all seen Jimmy Cagney as George M. Cohan dramatically alone on a bare stage with a solitary work light picking out the immortal notes of "Over There." Or Cornell Wilde as Chopin eking out the nocturne in E-flat.
But spurious or not the struggle is real. Beethoven too shared in that struggle.
We know from his notebooks that he wrote down fourteen versions of the melody that opens the second movement of this symphony. Fourteen versions over a period of eight years. This is the way we know it today.
Now the original sketch for this goes this way.
Another sketch for the same melody is quite different.
After eight years of experimenting with eleven others, he ultimately combined the most interesting and graceful elements of all versions and finally arrived at the tune which is familiar to us now.
But now that he has his theme, the real work begins. Now comes the job of giving symphonic meaning to the theme. And this meaning becomes clear only after we have arrived at the very last note of the entire movement.
Thus the famous four notes are not in themselves susceptible of meaning in the music appreciation sense. They are really only a springboard for the symphonic continuity to come.
That is the real function of what is called form: to take us on a varied and complicated half hour journey of continuous symphonic progress.
In order to do this, the composer must have his own inner road map. He must have the ability to know what the next note has to be. To convey a sense of rightness, a sense that whatever note succeeds the last is the only possible note that could happen at that precise instant.
As we have said, Beethoven could do this better than anyone. But he also struggled with all his force in the doing. Let's try to follow this struggle graphically.
To begin with, Beethoven chose seven different instruments with which to begin his first movment: the flute, clarinet, first violin, second violin, viola, cello, and bass.
These seven instruments appear on the first page of his manuscript score. But there is something crossed out: the part of the flute. So we know that Beethoven for one second was going to include the flute.
So why did he cross it out? Well let's hear how it would have sounded with the flute left in.
The high piping notes of the flute don't seem to fit in with the generally rude and brusque atmosphere of the opening bars.
Beethoven clearly wanted these notes to be a strong masculine utterance. And he therefore orchestrated entirely with instruments that play normally in the register of the male singing voice.
The flute being the instrumental equivalent of the soprano would be intruding here like a delicate lady at a club smoker. So out came the flute. And now let's hear how masculine it sounds without it.
You see, a lot of us assume when we hear the symphony today that it must have spilled out of Beethoven in one steady gush, clear and right from the beginning. But not at all.
Beethoven left pages and pages of discarded material in his own writing, enough to fill a whole book. The man rejected and rewrote, scratched out, tore up, and sometimes altered a passage as many as twenty times. Beethoven's manuscript looks like a bloody record of a tremendous inner battle.
But before he began to write this wild looking score, Beethoven had for three years been filling notebooks with sketches, some that he ultimately discarded as not right. I have been trying to figure out what his first movement would have sounded like if he had left some of them in.
I have been experimenting with the music, speculating on where these sketchkes might have been intended for use, and putting them back into those places, to see what the piece might have been had he used them. And I have come up with some curious and interesting results. Let's see what they are.
We already know almost too well the opening bars of this symphony. Now once Beethoven had made this strong initial statement, what then? How does he go on to develop it? He does it like this.
But here is a discarded sketch which is also a direct and immediate development of the theme. Not very good and not very bad taken all by itself. But it is a good logical development of the opening figure.
But what would the music sound like if Beethoven had used this sketch as the immediate development of his theme? We can find out by simply putting the sketch back into the symphony and it will sound like this.
It does make a difference, doesn't it? Not only because it sounds wrong to our ears, which are used to the version we know. But also because of the nature of the music itself. It is so symmetrical that it seems static. It doesn't seem to want to go anywhere. And that is fatal at the outset of a symphonic journey. It doesn't seem to have the mystery about it that the right version has, of that whispering promise of things to come.
The sketch music on the other hand gets stuck in its own repetition. It just doesn't build. And Beethoven was first and foremost a builder.
Let us look at another rejected sketch. Here is one that sounds like this. Again it is based as all of them are on that same opening figure.
Now my guess is that he would have used it somewhere in this passage.
Now let's hear the same passage with the discarded sketch included.
Terrible, isn't it? This sketch just intrudes itself into the living flow of the music and stands there repeating, grounded, until such time as the music can again take off in its flight.
No wonder Beethoven rejected it. For he of all people had a sense of drive to his music that was second to none.
This sketch just doesn't drive. It is again like the first one, static and stuck.
Now this sketch is different. It has real excitement and build.
I suspect it was intended for a spot a little later on in the movement. Here.
This is certainly one of the most climactic and thrilling moments in the movement. It is the beginning of the coda, of the last big push before the end.
Let's see how it would have sounded, using the sketch I just played you.
Not at all bad. It has logic and it builds. But what Beethoven finally did use has so much more logic and builds with so much more ferocity and shock that there is no comparison.
The other, although good, seems pale beside it.
Now here is a sketch that I really like because it sounds like the essential Beethoven style.
This has pain in it and mystery and a sense of eruption.
It would have fitted very neatly into the coda, harmonically, rhythmically and every other way, except emotionally.
Here is the spot in the coda I mean.
Now let us add the sketch to it.
Do you hear the difference? What has happened?
We had to come down from a high point to a low point in order to build up again dramatically to a still higher point. This is in itself good and acceptable dramatic structure. It happens all the time in plays and in novels as well as in music.
But this is no moment for it. Beethoven has already reached his high point. He is already in the last lap and he wants to smash forward on that high level right to the end. And he does with astonishing brilliance.
It is this genius for going forward, always forward, that in every case guides his hand in the struggle with his material. Why even the very ending was written three different ways on this orchestral score.
Here is the first ending he wrote: an abrupt typically Beethovenian ending.
Why did he reject it? It seems perfectly all right and satisfying.
But no he apparently felt that it was too abrupt. And so he went right on and wrote a second ending that was more extended, more like a finale, more noble, romantic, majestic. It went like this.
But in the manuscript this ending is also buried beneath the crossing out. Now he felt it was too long, too pretentious. Perhaps too majestic. It didn't seem to fit into the scheme of the whole movement, where the main quality is bare economical direct statement of the greatest possible force.
And so he tried still a third ending and this one worked. But the odd thing is that, as it turns out, the third ending is even more abrupt than the first.
So you see he had to struggle and agonize before he realized so apparently simple a thing: that the trouble with the first ending was not that it was too short but that it was not short enough.
Thus he arrived at the third ending, which is as right as rain. This is how we hear it today.
And so Beethoven came to the end of his symphonic journey: for one movement, that is.
Imagine a whole lifetime of this struggle. Movement after movement, symphony and symphony, sonata after quartet after concerto. Always probing and rejecting in his dedication to perfection for the principle of inevitabilty.
This somehow is the key to the mystery of a great artist. That for reasons unknown to him or to anyone else, that he will give away his life and his energies, just to make sure that one note follows another inevitably.
But in doing so, he makes us feel at the finish that something checks throughout. Something that follows its own laws consistently. Something we can trust: that will never let us down.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room
And hermits are contented with their cells;
And students with their pensive citadels;
Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom,
Sit blithe and happy; bees that soar for bloom,
High as the highest Peak of Furness-fells,
Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells:
In truth the prison, into which we doom
Ourselves, no prison is: and hence for me,
In sundry moods, 'twas pastime to be bound
Within the Sonnet's scanty plot of ground;
Pleased if some Souls (for such there needs must be)
Who have felt the weight of too much liberty,
Should find brief solace there, as I have found.
The following is a lesson in lower levels of specificity, which means lesser generality.
First we'll write the song as a student might have written it, using generalities:
"People die for love, but I prefer men who give gifts instead. Courtship is nice, but it doesn't pay for living expenses. Kisses are great too, but nothing like money. Time destroys everything but money! Men with power are nice, but not as good as money. And what good is attracting your boss if he doesn't give you money? As soon as he loses his money, he'll return to his wife. A friendly relationship between a man and woman may be fine, but that doesn't help if there's no money in it. Secret affairs are fun, but if the man wants a pet, she deserves a reward. Time passes and we get old and lose our strength, but you can always survive with wealth!"
Not bad as an observation about life, but forgettable. Now see how the writer has turned this general idea into specific choices.
"People" become a specific type of person, the Frenchman, with an example of stereotypic French romantic behavior. Note also the use of a strong verb, "bred," rather than, say, "born" or "made."
To "die" is opposed by to "live," thus creating coherence (the reader remembers the past word by opposition). Also "money" becomes a concrete and specific noun: expensive jewels; this in turn achieves a lower level of specificity: jewels now become diamonds.
In the chorus, "courtship" becomes a specific act: a kiss on the hand, such as Leonardo di Caprio gave Kate Winslett in Titanic. "Jewels" become a specific jewel, "diamonds." The bland phrase, "living expenses" becomes the "rental on your humble flat," a short but memorable phrase.
"Flat," a British word, evokes images of cramped space better than the American word, "apartment." "Automat" evokes a drab eatery.
(An automat is a machine that rotates food selections for a buyer. Fast food has made them rare, except for dorm vending machines that sell junk foods.)
"Time destroys" become the more specific, "Men grow cold as girls grow old" and the loss of "charms" that follows.
But generalities are needed too! In a novel one might brainstorm the word "charms" and give comical examples; but for a short song, focus must be limited; levels of generality must be balanced against the need for focus.
The writer goes to a lower level of generality than "diamonds," by describing them as "square-cut" and "pear-shaped." Notice the choice of diction (vocabulary): "rocks" is slang for "diamonds," and adds spice to the language, besides giving it a personal flair (as if the singer knew what she was talking about).
(Narcotics undercover police learn drug slang or they'd be easily recognized if they used a formal word, say "cocaine" instead of the slang, "snow" (probably the drug slang has already changed by now: in fact, slang is created specifically to exclude others, as in jazz or hip hop slang.)
Then the singer gives specific examples of diamond stores (Tiffany's and Cartier).
More examples follow: A lawyer boyfriend is great sometimes, but (it's implied) diamonds are great all times (women don't need lawyers often, if ever). It's nice to control a tough ("hard-boiled") employer, but what's the point if he doesn't spend money?
("Hard-boiled" is a nice choice of words too; writer Ernest Hemingway's prose was early identified as "hard-boiled.")
"No dice" is another strong idiom (meaning, "no deal" or "no agreement").
Then the writer gives an example: A rich employer might treat a sexy girl nice when he's in the money, but once the money stops rolling in, he heads for shelter in the arms of his more common, but less expensive, wife. Note another good choice of words, "louses" for men who behave badly.
The singer rejects friendly relationships with men, since there's no money involved.
("Platonic" comes from the Greek philosopher, Plato, who believed in "sublimated" or non-sexual relationships.)
But the singer rejects secret romantic affairs too ("liaisons"). Idomatic use of language is strong here too: "Better bets" fits in with "rocks," "louses," "flat," and "automat," since it defines a woman who has had experience. A "better bet" is a better chance of luck. The "little pet" is the woman, used as a toy, while "baguettes" is a metaphor for "diamonds" (a "baguette" is an elongated French bread).
"Time passes" becomes a more memorable phrase: "Time rolls on," while physical infirmity becomes the more descriptively specific "you can't straighen up when you bend," as well as "stiff back" and "stiff knees."
Antonymic balance links "stand straight" backward to "can't straighten up," thus creating coherence at the end. A rhinestone" is an imitation diamond.
{Verse} The French were bred to die for love they delight in fighting duels but I prefer a man who lives and gives expensive jewels.
{Chorus} A kiss on the hand may be quite continental but diamonds are a girl's best friend. A kiss may be grand but it won't pay the rental
on your humble flat, or help you at the automat. Men grow cold as girls grow old and we all lose our charms in the end. But square-cut or pear-shaped these rocks don't lose their shape Diamonds are a girl's best friend Tiffany's! Cartier! Talk to me, Harry, Winston, tell me all about it! There may come a time when a lass needs a lawyer but diamonds are a girl's best friend. There may come a time when a hard-boiled employer thinks you're awful nice but get that ice or else no dice. He's your guy when stocks are high but beware when they start to descend, It's then that those louses go back to their spouses Diamonds are a girl's best friend. I've heard of affairs that are strictly platonic but diamonds are a girl's best friend, and I think affairs that you must keep liaisonic are better bets if little pets get big baguettes. Time rolls on and youth is gone and you can't straighten up when you bend but stiff back or stiff knees you stand straight at Tiffany's, Diamonds! Diamonds! I don't mean rhinestones, but Diamonds, are a girl's best friend!
"Goodbye to the real person you were. You behaved with dignity while those around you did not. They came out of their offices and forced you to become somebody different, and to play the star. You seemed vulnerable and alone when there was trouble. I would have liked to have known you but I was young. You died though your fame lives on. It must have been difficult being alone in Hollywood, and you paid the price for success. Even when you died you were treated like a thing. Goodbye to the real person you were. I'm a fan who sees you as more than a sex object."
Let's study how the writer, Bernie Taupin, made the general idea more specific. First the "real person" becomes a real name: Norma Jean. Even if the person never existed, proper names add realism to writing.
The abstract word, "dignity" becomes a more specific description: "the grace to hold yourself." While others' lack of dignity becomes more specifically insect-like behavior: crawling.
"Offices" becomes "woodwork," on a lower level of generality, also evoking the "insect" idea, since insects live in woodwork. "Whispered" is a strong verb" and "treadmill" is a lower level of generality than "star routine," besides being a metaphor.
"Being forced to become somebody else" becomes "made you change your name," another example of lower level of generality. Then comes the great chorus with the wonderful horn riff accenting it.
In the chorus, "vulnerable" becomes transformed as a metaphor (and title of the song): "candle in the wind." Short but sweet.
"Being alone" becomes the more specific "never knowing who to cling to" and "trouble" becomes a stronger (lower) level of expression: "when the rain set in." The general adjective, "young" becomes the specific and idiomatic, "kid." Finally, "your fame lives on," a rather bland and forgettable idea, becomes "your candle burned out long before your legend ever did," accented again by the horn riff.
The idea that loneliness was "difficult" becomes the stronger (and idiomatic) "tough." "Success" achieves a lower level of generality in the word, "superstar."
Note that "pain was the price you paid" is on a high level of generality; in fact it's somewhat bland: it's "telling" not "showing." But this is a short song and a general idea here keeps focus. ("Focus" is as important as lower level of generalities.)
"Hounded" is an example of a strong verb, superior to a general verb like "treated" (like a thing). Also "you" becomes a specific noun, the "press."
"Marilyn" creates coherence by linking the hearer back to "Norma Jean," as a replacement noun. The report of being found in the nude is an example (hence lower level of generality) of how the press "hounded" Marilyn.
Finally, the "kid" becomes the more specific movie fan, "the young man in the 22nd row"; while the proper name, Norma Jean, becomes the more specific, Marilyn Monroe, insuring coherence at the end of the song, since the replacement noun (Marilyn Monroe) links back to the noun it replaces, Norma Jean.
Goodbye Norma Jean, Though I never knew you at all You had the grace to hold yourself While those around you crawled They crawled out of the woodwork And they whispered into your brain They set you on the treadmill And they made you change your name And it seems to me you lived your life Like a candle in the wind Never knowing who to cling to When the rain set in And I would have liked to have known you But I was just a kid Your candle burned out long before Your legend ever did. Loneliness was tough, The toughest role you ever played Hollywood created a superstar And pain was the price you paid. Even when you died, Oh the press still hounded you; All the papers had to say Was that marilyn was found in the nude Goodbye Norma Jean From the young man in the 22nd row Who sees you as something as more than sexual More than just our Marilyn Monroe.
Proof of this might best be seen in more sensuous writing, such as description of food. The word "food" might evoke any image in the reader's mind, but not arouse the reader like specific and concrete nouns would: "Food" is not as arousing as, "a thin-crust pizza baked in tomato sauce with sliced pepperoni and pineapple toppings."
Not that that's a superb description, but it's better than "food"!
While we're at it, I like Mark Twain's advice about adjectives: "When in doubt, cross it out." I feel the same way about adverbs. The good writer should be able to say it by finding the precise noun, rather than lazily choosing the less-than-perfect noun and then using an adjective to make it better.
Why write "beautiful house" when one can write, instead: "It was a two-room cottage of stucco frame walls painted Emerald green, with an ebony oaken door and two French windows that opened over part of the Irish sea." Makes you want to live there.
THE CAT'S MEOW
Once upon a holiday
While I slept my life away
I thought of getting up, but wondered how:
Just then I heard the single word, "Meow!"
I suddenly became aware
There was a campus reading room, somewhere;
I even thought of going there,
And for this purpose made a vow,
But then I heard the single word, "Meow!"
Lazily I lingered in my bed:
Yawning wide, I then began to scratch my head;
I knew that some day I would study, but not now:
For still I heard the single word, "Meow!"
Conceding there were poets I should know,
And since there was no place for me to go
That hour, I read some Edgar Allan Poe,
As if to get my mind from off the row
That came from outside, sounding like, "Meow!"
And then I wondered what that sound might mean
That seemed to come from just outside the screen;
I asked it if it wished to have some chow,
But all I heard in answer was, "Meow!"
I rummaged in my memory
For women whom I knew to be
Stricken with an allergy:
But even the allergic Nancy Gow
In springtime never uttered a Meow!
I wondered who on earth could make that sound;
I scratched my head some more and frowned.
I shouted, "If you're selling something, say so now!"
But all it answered was the single word, "Meow!"
"Perhaps it is some food you wish,
"Like sausage and a cole slaw dish;
"I'll fry a fine Vienna fish,
"With Guinness or a Lowenbrau!"
But all it answered was the single word, "Meow!"
I thought he might be from another land,
So tried a foreign phrase he'd understand,
Like "Guten abend!" "Buonas diaz!" "Ciao!"
But all it answered was the single word, "Meow!"
Perhaps this was not man at all, but beast:
A hungry zombie who was once deceased,
But now intent on making me his feast:
A slimy creature from a hellish slough:
A demon who could only say, "Meow!"
"Fiend!" I cried. "Then were you sent from Hell
"To torment me? If not, I beg you tell
"Your purpose now, before you frighten me and how!"
But all it answered was the single word, "Meow!"
So there I lay, reflecting in my brain,
Until I heard that woeful howl again;
Just like the first time, then as now,
It spoke the single word, "Meow!"
The two-note refrain of that tuneless song,
As if a demon had a hammer and a gong;
Or if a novice violinist with his bow
Could only scrape one dismal tune, "Meow!"
Just then I heard a scratching at the door,
I, trembling, asked myself, "What for?"
I screamed, "Away, you thief!" and creased my brow
In fear. But all it answered was the word, "Meow!"
I felt a sudden deathly chill;
I thought of making out my will,
Including relatives I would endow;
And all the while I heard that word, "Meow!"
Now staring at the frontyard tree
The thought appeared quite suddenly
That I could end my misery
By hanging from its topmost bough;
As if to goad me on, it cried, "Meow!"
But then I thought, "Oh, what's the use?
"For I don't even have a noose
"And relatives would have to cut me loose!"
That was a burden I could not allow.
But still it uttered just the word, "Meow!"
I didn't want him prowling anymore,
And so to scare him with a noise inside my door
I aimed my fist against my palm, and pow!
But still it answered just the word, "Meow!"
The fever burned inside my weary head
And almost made me wish I was in school instead,
With Donne and Shakespeare, though I really dread
That dumb archaic usage, like "Enow."
As if to mock those bards, it said, "Meow!"
Attempting now to pacify my mind
I vowed to leave all fearful thoughts behind
And read aloud from verses of the Tao,
But still it uttered just the single word, "Meow!"
What good was wisdom, then, I wished to know?
I might as well go back to reading Poe,
With his Rue Morgue and raven; though
A better man was Vergil, with his plough
And farm, away from yowling like "Meow!"
It suddenly occurred to me,
Perhaps it was a neighbor come for tea,
Like lonely Farmer Friggs, with his pet cow:
But what I heard was not a "Moo," but a "Meow!"
I wondered what my German mom would do
If she were still alive, and Papa too!
He'd say, "There's someone calling, meine Frau!
"Achtung! Es ist nicht Deutsch, das wort, 'Meow!'"
And then I thought of those departed souls
Who, having died, return in different roles.
Revived in hope, I shouted, "Mutter, is it thou?"
But all it answered was the word, "Meow!"
It almost made me get up out of bed,
But when I tried, I strained my back instead!
Not fond of pain, I shouted, "Ow!"
Still all it answered was the single word, "Meow!"
I pined to get away from there
And was quite willing to go anywhere:
A cruise to France or dumped aboard a scow:
It didn't matter anyhow,
So long as it was far from that "Meow!"
Now thinking that perhaps all hope was lost,
I sought some comfort at whatever cost;
Discarding Poe, I read some Robert Frost.
Yet still it spoke the single word, "Meow!"
Yet still it spoke the single word, "Meow!"
Aroused from desultory reading in my flat,
My intuition told me strongly that
Perhaps the sound came from my neighbor's cat,
Who only knew two vowels. "Wow!
"It's just my neighbor's cat who says, 'Meow,'"
I thought, relieved. But so excited after that,
It happened I forgot the English word for "cat,"
So using Chinese asked, "Are you my neighbor's mow?"
But all it answered was the word, "Meow!"
Arising from my bed (don't ask me how)
I saw the fiend that uttered that "Meow."
I let her in and fed her feline stew;
Now peacefully she purrs, and murmurs, "Mew!"
Now peacefully she purrs, and murmurs, "Mew!"
HOW A GREAT SYMPHONY WAS WRITTEN
Leonard Bernstein
Three G's and an E-flat. Nothing more. Baby simple. Anyone might have thought of them. Maybe. Leonard Bernstein
But out of them has grown the first movement of a great symphony. A movement so economical and consistent that almost every bar of it is a direct development of these opening four notes.
People have wondered for years what it is that endows this musical figure with such potency. All kinds of fanciful music appreciation theories have been advanced. That it is based on the song of a bird Beethoven heard in the Vienna woods. That it is Fate knocking at the door. That it is a friend of his knocking at the door. And more of the same.
But none of these interpretations tells us anything. The truth is that the real meaning lies in the notes that follow it. All the notes of all the five hundred measures that follow it. And Beethoven more than any other composer before or after him, I think, had the ability to find these exactly right notes.
But even he who had that ability to such a remarkable degree had a gigantic struggle to achieve this rightness: not only the right notes, but the right rhythms, the right climaxes, the right harmonies, the right instrumentation. We are going to try to trace that struggle for you.
Now all of us are familiar with the composer's struggle to find the right melodies and the right thematic material. We have all been privileged to watch Schumann and Brahms and other greats of the silver screen agonizing over the keyboard as they search for the right tune.
We have all seen Jimmy Cagney as George M. Cohan dramatically alone on a bare stage with a solitary work light picking out the immortal notes of "Over There." Or Cornell Wilde as Chopin eking out the nocturne in E-flat.
But spurious or not the struggle is real. Beethoven too shared in that struggle.
We know from his notebooks that he wrote down fourteen versions of the melody that opens the second movement of this symphony. Fourteen versions over a period of eight years. This is the way we know it today.
Now the original sketch for this goes this way.
Another sketch for the same melody is quite different.
After eight years of experimenting with eleven others, he ultimately combined the most interesting and graceful elements of all versions and finally arrived at the tune which is familiar to us now.
But now that he has his theme, the real work begins. Now comes the job of giving symphonic meaning to the theme. And this meaning becomes clear only after we have arrived at the very last note of the entire movement.
Thus the famous four notes are not in themselves susceptible of meaning in the music appreciation sense. They are really only a springboard for the symphonic continuity to come.
That is the real function of what is called form: to take us on a varied and complicated half hour journey of continuous symphonic progress.
In order to do this, the composer must have his own inner road map. He must have the ability to know what the next note has to be. To convey a sense of rightness, a sense that whatever note succeeds the last is the only possible note that could happen at that precise instant.
As we have said, Beethoven could do this better than anyone. But he also struggled with all his force in the doing. Let's try to follow this struggle graphically.
To begin with, Beethoven chose seven different instruments with which to begin his first movment: the flute, clarinet, first violin, second violin, viola, cello, and bass.
These seven instruments appear on the first page of his manuscript score. But there is something crossed out: the part of the flute. So we know that Beethoven for one second was going to include the flute.
So why did he cross it out? Well let's hear how it would have sounded with the flute left in.
The high piping notes of the flute don't seem to fit in with the generally rude and brusque atmosphere of the opening bars.
Beethoven clearly wanted these notes to be a strong masculine utterance. And he therefore orchestrated entirely with instruments that play normally in the register of the male singing voice.
The flute being the instrumental equivalent of the soprano would be intruding here like a delicate lady at a club smoker. So out came the flute. And now let's hear how masculine it sounds without it.
You see, a lot of us assume when we hear the symphony today that it must have spilled out of Beethoven in one steady gush, clear and right from the beginning. But not at all.
Beethoven left pages and pages of discarded material in his own writing, enough to fill a whole book. The man rejected and rewrote, scratched out, tore up, and sometimes altered a passage as many as twenty times. Beethoven's manuscript looks like a bloody record of a tremendous inner battle.
But before he began to write this wild looking score, Beethoven had for three years been filling notebooks with sketches, some that he ultimately discarded as not right. I have been trying to figure out what his first movement would have sounded like if he had left some of them in.
I have been experimenting with the music, speculating on where these sketchkes might have been intended for use, and putting them back into those places, to see what the piece might have been had he used them. And I have come up with some curious and interesting results. Let's see what they are.
We already know almost too well the opening bars of this symphony. Now once Beethoven had made this strong initial statement, what then? How does he go on to develop it? He does it like this.
But here is a discarded sketch which is also a direct and immediate development of the theme. Not very good and not very bad taken all by itself. But it is a good logical development of the opening figure.
But what would the music sound like if Beethoven had used this sketch as the immediate development of his theme? We can find out by simply putting the sketch back into the symphony and it will sound like this.
It does make a difference, doesn't it? Not only because it sounds wrong to our ears, which are used to the version we know. But also because of the nature of the music itself. It is so symmetrical that it seems static. It doesn't seem to want to go anywhere. And that is fatal at the outset of a symphonic journey. It doesn't seem to have the mystery about it that the right version has, of that whispering promise of things to come.
The sketch music on the other hand gets stuck in its own repetition. It just doesn't build. And Beethoven was first and foremost a builder.
Let us look at another rejected sketch. Here is one that sounds like this. Again it is based as all of them are on that same opening figure.
Now my guess is that he would have used it somewhere in this passage.
Now let's hear the same passage with the discarded sketch included.
Terrible, isn't it? This sketch just intrudes itself into the living flow of the music and stands there repeating, grounded, until such time as the music can again take off in its flight.
No wonder Beethoven rejected it. For he of all people had a sense of drive to his music that was second to none.
This sketch just doesn't drive. It is again like the first one, static and stuck.
Now this sketch is different. It has real excitement and build.
I suspect it was intended for a spot a little later on in the movement. Here.
This is certainly one of the most climactic and thrilling moments in the movement. It is the beginning of the coda, of the last big push before the end.
Let's see how it would have sounded, using the sketch I just played you.
Not at all bad. It has logic and it builds. But what Beethoven finally did use has so much more logic and builds with so much more ferocity and shock that there is no comparison.
The other, although good, seems pale beside it.
Now here is a sketch that I really like because it sounds like the essential Beethoven style.
This has pain in it and mystery and a sense of eruption.
It would have fitted very neatly into the coda, harmonically, rhythmically and every other way, except emotionally.
Here is the spot in the coda I mean.
Now let us add the sketch to it.
Do you hear the difference? What has happened?
We had to come down from a high point to a low point in order to build up again dramatically to a still higher point. This is in itself good and acceptable dramatic structure. It happens all the time in plays and in novels as well as in music.
But this is no moment for it. Beethoven has already reached his high point. He is already in the last lap and he wants to smash forward on that high level right to the end. And he does with astonishing brilliance.
It is this genius for going forward, always forward, that in every case guides his hand in the struggle with his material. Why even the very ending was written three different ways on this orchestral score.
Here is the first ending he wrote: an abrupt typically Beethovenian ending.
Why did he reject it? It seems perfectly all right and satisfying.
But no he apparently felt that it was too abrupt. And so he went right on and wrote a second ending that was more extended, more like a finale, more noble, romantic, majestic. It went like this.
But in the manuscript this ending is also buried beneath the crossing out. Now he felt it was too long, too pretentious. Perhaps too majestic. It didn't seem to fit into the scheme of the whole movement, where the main quality is bare economical direct statement of the greatest possible force.
And so he tried still a third ending and this one worked. But the odd thing is that, as it turns out, the third ending is even more abrupt than the first.
So you see he had to struggle and agonize before he realized so apparently simple a thing: that the trouble with the first ending was not that it was too short but that it was not short enough.
Thus he arrived at the third ending, which is as right as rain. This is how we hear it today.
And so Beethoven came to the end of his symphonic journey: for one movement, that is.
Imagine a whole lifetime of this struggle. Movement after movement, symphony and symphony, sonata after quartet after concerto. Always probing and rejecting in his dedication to perfection for the principle of inevitabilty.
This somehow is the key to the mystery of a great artist. That for reasons unknown to him or to anyone else, that he will give away his life and his energies, just to make sure that one note follows another inevitably.
But in doing so, he makes us feel at the finish that something checks throughout. Something that follows its own laws consistently. Something we can trust: that will never let us down.
Students,
I've always liked this sonnet by William Wordsworth, praising the creative play possible within certain limits.
Genre, purpose, audience, and length are all limits that are part of the process of discovery too. In completing a rhyme scheme, for example (say, ABAB or AABB) one is also engaged in the process of discovery, as this sonnet makes clear.
At the same time, my paraphrase of Wordsworth's sonnet is not only an example of a verse-prose paraphrase that I recommend as part of the process of learning how to write; it also shows the limits of paraphrase. Because, as you can see, the actual prosaic content of Wordsworth's poem is not much; it basically says, "confinement can make some people happy"! The reader can see where the beauty of Wordsworth's poem is not in the content (which can be translated into any language) but in the form (the rhymes, the tension between line ending and sense, the syntactical suspense, the metaphors, imagery, etc.). For this reason the best definition of poetry I know is Robert Frost's: "poetry is what gets lost in translation"!
Nuns Fret Not at Their Convent's Narrow RoomI've always liked this sonnet by William Wordsworth, praising the creative play possible within certain limits.
Genre, purpose, audience, and length are all limits that are part of the process of discovery too. In completing a rhyme scheme, for example (say, ABAB or AABB) one is also engaged in the process of discovery, as this sonnet makes clear.
At the same time, my paraphrase of Wordsworth's sonnet is not only an example of a verse-prose paraphrase that I recommend as part of the process of learning how to write; it also shows the limits of paraphrase. Because, as you can see, the actual prosaic content of Wordsworth's poem is not much; it basically says, "confinement can make some people happy"! The reader can see where the beauty of Wordsworth's poem is not in the content (which can be translated into any language) but in the form (the rhymes, the tension between line ending and sense, the syntactical suspense, the metaphors, imagery, etc.). For this reason the best definition of poetry I know is Robert Frost's: "poetry is what gets lost in translation"!
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room
And hermits are contented with their cells;
And students with their pensive citadels;
Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom,
Sit blithe and happy; bees that soar for bloom,
High as the highest Peak of Furness-fells,
Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells:
In truth the prison, into which we doom
Ourselves, no prison is: and hence for me,
In sundry moods, 'twas pastime to be bound
Within the Sonnet's scanty plot of ground;
Pleased if some Souls (for such there needs must be)
Who have felt the weight of too much liberty,
Should find brief solace there, as I have found.
PARAPHRASE
Neither nuns nor hermits regret the little space in which they live. Also content are students, thoughtful in their schools; maids seated sewing; and weavers fixed over their machines. Bees who seek honey in high places are still happy to shelter inside a little flower, doing their work. Because these narrow places are not prisons to them, but places of fulfillment. So for me, in whatever mood I was in, it was fun to write verse within the limits of the sonnet form. I was pleased to think that someone reading what I wrote would find in my strict rhymes a pleasure compared to the chaotic freedom of their daily lives.A Style Study of Two Songs:
The Art of Lower Generalities
"Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend" is from the Broadway musical, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, later filmed with Marilyn Monroe. The classic Broadway song usually had a verse, which was only partly sung and led easily into the main song, called the chorus.The Art of Lower Generalities
The following is a lesson in lower levels of specificity, which means lesser generality.
First we'll write the song as a student might have written it, using generalities:
"People die for love, but I prefer men who give gifts instead. Courtship is nice, but it doesn't pay for living expenses. Kisses are great too, but nothing like money. Time destroys everything but money! Men with power are nice, but not as good as money. And what good is attracting your boss if he doesn't give you money? As soon as he loses his money, he'll return to his wife. A friendly relationship between a man and woman may be fine, but that doesn't help if there's no money in it. Secret affairs are fun, but if the man wants a pet, she deserves a reward. Time passes and we get old and lose our strength, but you can always survive with wealth!"
Not bad as an observation about life, but forgettable. Now see how the writer has turned this general idea into specific choices.
"People" become a specific type of person, the Frenchman, with an example of stereotypic French romantic behavior. Note also the use of a strong verb, "bred," rather than, say, "born" or "made."
To "die" is opposed by to "live," thus creating coherence (the reader remembers the past word by opposition). Also "money" becomes a concrete and specific noun: expensive jewels; this in turn achieves a lower level of specificity: jewels now become diamonds.
In the chorus, "courtship" becomes a specific act: a kiss on the hand, such as Leonardo di Caprio gave Kate Winslett in Titanic. "Jewels" become a specific jewel, "diamonds." The bland phrase, "living expenses" becomes the "rental on your humble flat," a short but memorable phrase.
"Flat," a British word, evokes images of cramped space better than the American word, "apartment." "Automat" evokes a drab eatery.
(An automat is a machine that rotates food selections for a buyer. Fast food has made them rare, except for dorm vending machines that sell junk foods.)
"Time destroys" become the more specific, "Men grow cold as girls grow old" and the loss of "charms" that follows.
But generalities are needed too! In a novel one might brainstorm the word "charms" and give comical examples; but for a short song, focus must be limited; levels of generality must be balanced against the need for focus.
The writer goes to a lower level of generality than "diamonds," by describing them as "square-cut" and "pear-shaped." Notice the choice of diction (vocabulary): "rocks" is slang for "diamonds," and adds spice to the language, besides giving it a personal flair (as if the singer knew what she was talking about).
(Narcotics undercover police learn drug slang or they'd be easily recognized if they used a formal word, say "cocaine" instead of the slang, "snow" (probably the drug slang has already changed by now: in fact, slang is created specifically to exclude others, as in jazz or hip hop slang.)
Then the singer gives specific examples of diamond stores (Tiffany's and Cartier).
More examples follow: A lawyer boyfriend is great sometimes, but (it's implied) diamonds are great all times (women don't need lawyers often, if ever). It's nice to control a tough ("hard-boiled") employer, but what's the point if he doesn't spend money?
("Hard-boiled" is a nice choice of words too; writer Ernest Hemingway's prose was early identified as "hard-boiled.")
"No dice" is another strong idiom (meaning, "no deal" or "no agreement").
Then the writer gives an example: A rich employer might treat a sexy girl nice when he's in the money, but once the money stops rolling in, he heads for shelter in the arms of his more common, but less expensive, wife. Note another good choice of words, "louses" for men who behave badly.
The singer rejects friendly relationships with men, since there's no money involved.
("Platonic" comes from the Greek philosopher, Plato, who believed in "sublimated" or non-sexual relationships.)
But the singer rejects secret romantic affairs too ("liaisons"). Idomatic use of language is strong here too: "Better bets" fits in with "rocks," "louses," "flat," and "automat," since it defines a woman who has had experience. A "better bet" is a better chance of luck. The "little pet" is the woman, used as a toy, while "baguettes" is a metaphor for "diamonds" (a "baguette" is an elongated French bread).
"Time passes" becomes a more memorable phrase: "Time rolls on," while physical infirmity becomes the more descriptively specific "you can't straighen up when you bend," as well as "stiff back" and "stiff knees."
Antonymic balance links "stand straight" backward to "can't straighten up," thus creating coherence at the end. A rhinestone" is an imitation diamond.
{Verse} The French were bred to die for love they delight in fighting duels but I prefer a man who lives and gives expensive jewels.
{Chorus} A kiss on the hand may be quite continental but diamonds are a girl's best friend. A kiss may be grand but it won't pay the rental
on your humble flat, or help you at the automat. Men grow cold as girls grow old and we all lose our charms in the end. But square-cut or pear-shaped these rocks don't lose their shape Diamonds are a girl's best friend Tiffany's! Cartier! Talk to me, Harry, Winston, tell me all about it! There may come a time when a lass needs a lawyer but diamonds are a girl's best friend. There may come a time when a hard-boiled employer thinks you're awful nice but get that ice or else no dice. He's your guy when stocks are high but beware when they start to descend, It's then that those louses go back to their spouses Diamonds are a girl's best friend. I've heard of affairs that are strictly platonic but diamonds are a girl's best friend, and I think affairs that you must keep liaisonic are better bets if little pets get big baguettes. Time rolls on and youth is gone and you can't straighten up when you bend but stiff back or stiff knees you stand straight at Tiffany's, Diamonds! Diamonds! I don't mean rhinestones, but Diamonds, are a girl's best friend!
CANDLE IN THE WIND
Once again we'll give a general version of the song: "Goodbye to the real person you were. You behaved with dignity while those around you did not. They came out of their offices and forced you to become somebody different, and to play the star. You seemed vulnerable and alone when there was trouble. I would have liked to have known you but I was young. You died though your fame lives on. It must have been difficult being alone in Hollywood, and you paid the price for success. Even when you died you were treated like a thing. Goodbye to the real person you were. I'm a fan who sees you as more than a sex object."
Let's study how the writer, Bernie Taupin, made the general idea more specific. First the "real person" becomes a real name: Norma Jean. Even if the person never existed, proper names add realism to writing.
The abstract word, "dignity" becomes a more specific description: "the grace to hold yourself." While others' lack of dignity becomes more specifically insect-like behavior: crawling.
"Offices" becomes "woodwork," on a lower level of generality, also evoking the "insect" idea, since insects live in woodwork. "Whispered" is a strong verb" and "treadmill" is a lower level of generality than "star routine," besides being a metaphor.
"Being forced to become somebody else" becomes "made you change your name," another example of lower level of generality. Then comes the great chorus with the wonderful horn riff accenting it.
In the chorus, "vulnerable" becomes transformed as a metaphor (and title of the song): "candle in the wind." Short but sweet.
"Being alone" becomes the more specific "never knowing who to cling to" and "trouble" becomes a stronger (lower) level of expression: "when the rain set in." The general adjective, "young" becomes the specific and idiomatic, "kid." Finally, "your fame lives on," a rather bland and forgettable idea, becomes "your candle burned out long before your legend ever did," accented again by the horn riff.
The idea that loneliness was "difficult" becomes the stronger (and idiomatic) "tough." "Success" achieves a lower level of generality in the word, "superstar."
Note that "pain was the price you paid" is on a high level of generality; in fact it's somewhat bland: it's "telling" not "showing." But this is a short song and a general idea here keeps focus. ("Focus" is as important as lower level of generalities.)
"Hounded" is an example of a strong verb, superior to a general verb like "treated" (like a thing). Also "you" becomes a specific noun, the "press."
"Marilyn" creates coherence by linking the hearer back to "Norma Jean," as a replacement noun. The report of being found in the nude is an example (hence lower level of generality) of how the press "hounded" Marilyn.
Finally, the "kid" becomes the more specific movie fan, "the young man in the 22nd row"; while the proper name, Norma Jean, becomes the more specific, Marilyn Monroe, insuring coherence at the end of the song, since the replacement noun (Marilyn Monroe) links back to the noun it replaces, Norma Jean.
Goodbye Norma Jean, Though I never knew you at all You had the grace to hold yourself While those around you crawled They crawled out of the woodwork And they whispered into your brain They set you on the treadmill And they made you change your name And it seems to me you lived your life Like a candle in the wind Never knowing who to cling to When the rain set in And I would have liked to have known you But I was just a kid Your candle burned out long before Your legend ever did. Loneliness was tough, The toughest role you ever played Hollywood created a superstar And pain was the price you paid. Even when you died, Oh the press still hounded you; All the papers had to say Was that marilyn was found in the nude Goodbye Norma Jean From the young man in the 22nd row Who sees you as something as more than sexual More than just our Marilyn Monroe.
Style analysis of my short essay (using the revised version):
I used strong verbs: "studied," "shuffle" (second version as noun, first version as strong verb); pacing; cradled; crouches; retrieve; slid; grill; mimick; whirls; "owns" instead of "has" grilling chores.
I used details (specificity) selectively, according to my focus. My focus was on "Grandfather." I included specifics and concrete nouns, but only subordinated to my focus.
Note that I did not mention other food items, because they would hae marred my focus: Grandfather and Moon Day. The point is, nothing is an end in itself, but is always subordinated to good writing, which includes: focus, subordination, unity, coherence, completeness.
Note that the essay, though short, seems complete. In other words, the reader does not feel (or should not feel) that anything of substance has been left out; because whatever is important to my focus (and my length) has been left in.
Obviously if my length were longer, say ten pages, I would then brainstorm for more details and subordination: descriptions of the family, the backyard, my grandfather, etc. But in terms of my self-imposed limits (several short paragraphs), the reader feels that nothing of importance is missing.
The test is the writer becomes the ideal reader. I ask myself, "Is there anything missing?" My answer is No. The writer, if not skilled enough, may be wrong in his or her answer. Only readers can judge. But this seems to be complete to me.
As for revision, one change I made was to shorten the second version. As I "saw again" my first version, I saw places that were, short as it was, still redundant (repetitious, saying the same thing unnecessarily twice). I shorted the opening. I took out the part about eating cold cuts, because I implied that anyway in my revision.
Other changes were in vocabulary: I replaced "emaciated" with "venous" (vein-lined). Some choices are based on subjective judgment, itself based on wide reading. "Emaciated" sounded too long and cumbersome; "venous" got the job done faster. I added another strong verb, "studied" (compared to just "see"). At the end, I replaced "senile" with "senescent."
Actually, I thought of "senescent" (old) the first time but thought it might be too long a word for a simple essay and typed "senile" instead (like "venous," it was shorter). But "senile" had a too negative connotation (not strong in the head) and changed back to "senescent" (a more neutral word meaning simply "old" or "aging"). Also, the extra "s" sound created a nice sibilance in the final sentence (a final sentence should always be strong): "Grandfather'S Slow SeneScent shuffle beneath an autumn moon on a Still September night."
Note also that I replaced "underneath" with "beneath": again, I prefer shorter words if possible, even if only one syllable shorter.
It's a slow odyssey for us as well as him. Our mouths water in gustatory frustration. But this is Grandpa's pride and Father patiently smiles.
With trembling, gnarled fingers, Granddad is scarcely able to grill a sausage through. Fearful for our health, still we mimick pleasure in eating what is served with grandfatherly glee.
Grandfather died two years ago. Dad now owns grilling chores on Moon Day. He whirls from kitchen to garden; his strong fingers insure a safely cooked feast. But hygiene and efficiency can't replace Grandfather's slow senescent shuffle beneath an autumn moon on a still September night.
1. A two-paragraph essay on the Moon Festival, based on a personal experience.
2. The two paragraphs should average about 5-8 sentences each. But the main thing is to be complete.
3. A paragraph must
a) have unity (about one thing)
b) focus (a topic idea)
c) coherence (ideas must follow each other logically, in sequence, in order, in time, in space, etc.)
d) completeness (all important information must be included so that the reader feels satisfied and has no unanswered questions). (That means YOU must become both writer and reader, in the sense of taking the place of the reader.)
e) Subordination: General and abstract ideas supported by concrete and specific details.
You should:
1. Brainstorm ideas and keep the list;
2. Eliminate some ideas and keep a record;
3. Sequence (order) the remaining ideas. (This is your simple outline).
Remember (probably the most important thing you'll learn about writing): the writing process is RECURSIVE. Stages of that process are not finished once and for all but RECUR.
For example, sequencing (ordering) may be revised; choice of words; brainstorming may be repeated for subordinate ideas; focus may change; the title may change; more details may be included, others removed.
Writing is in other words a dialectical process of discovery; it's a dialogue between self and script and between writer and (imagined) reader.
That's what "revivison" means: "to see again"; in other words, to see what you've written with fresh eyes so you can see mistakes you didn't see when you were just writing; now you're reading; and, even better, you're reading from the point of view of a specific audience.
As in speeches, there must be a specific purpose in mind (to teach, to humor, to entertain, to frighten, to warn, to explain, etc.) as well as a specific audience.
(By the way, I advise you to write for your classmates, not for your teacher.)
Remember the four kinds of nouns:
abstract: love
concrete: flowers
general: holiday
specific: Moon Festival
Let's briefly study these issues in this excerpt from an early Woody Allen comedy monologue:
"I was watching a ballet, at City Center. And I'm not a ballet fan at all. But they were doing the Dying Swan. And there were some rumors that some bookmakers had drifted into town from upstate New York and they fixed the ballet. Apparently there was a lot of money bet on the swan to live."
Comedy is very much an art of the concrete, as well as of diction (choice of words). Of course other skills are involved too, such as coherence, completeness, etc.
Here notice specific nouns: Ballet (compare: dance), City Center; New York; the Dying Swan (a specific ballet; not a common noun and adjective: a dying bird). This adds color and realism to the story, evoking laughter. Note the strong verb "drifted" (not "came"), which is funny in itself, because bad people (criminals) tend to "drift." "Fixed" is another strong verb, or at least a specific verb (admittedly it's hard to imagine another word choice). Then "bookmakers" is more specific than "gamblers" and "rumors" more specific than "talk." Notice that it's not only New York, but "upstate" New York, again adding color (proper names do the same thing: "my silly boyfriend" is not as funny as, "my silly boyfriend, Caspar"). Note however in one case the comic writer uses a general expression: "lot of money" instead of, say, "two hundred dollars." In other words, being more general is sometimes better than being more specific. Police don't want to know some things about a suspect but want to know other things. And there is no general rule; context is the rule. Knowing the brand of cigarettes a suspect smokes might help catch him in one case but not another.
Let's rewrite this comic monologue, replacing the specific with general ones, and the general phrase with a more specific one:
"I was watching a dance once. And I'm not a dance fan at all. But they were doing a dance about a dying bird. And gamblers fixed the dance. Apparently there was five hundred dollars bet on a different ending."
Same ideas, but NOT FUNNY. The humor comes from the specific language used: lower levels of generality; choice of words ("bookmakers"); strong verbs ("drifted").
Though the writer, left, is supposed to be Poe, he bears no resemblance and looks more like an office clerk. (To be fair, this may have been on purpose, but the point is not clear.)
The bottom cartoon selects "salient" features of Poe's famous face with expressive use of line (like an expressive use of words in writing): the round intense eyes; the wavy hair; the tense jaw; the clenched fist rubbing into Poe's face, etc.
The candle, left, looks like any candle; the candle, bottom, is expressive, with wax drippings and a weaker flame.
The single sheet of paper seems very mechanical (left), while the tossed pages behind Poe is a "salient" or meaningful (vivid) detail that helps us understand Poe and the creative process.
Finally, the specific phrases that Poe crosses out (right), trying to reach the right phrase (the single word, "Nevermore") is more vivid than the more general sentences scribbled on the paper, left.
Again, the cartoonist (top, left) was evidently seeking another kind of humor, since there's a consistency in the choices made: the rigid lines, the severe demeanor of Poe, the straight lines of the candle and the quill pen, all suggest the cartoonist thought there was something funny in them.
Still, the bottom cartoon works better and should serve as a model for writing.
I used strong verbs: "studied," "shuffle" (second version as noun, first version as strong verb); pacing; cradled; crouches; retrieve; slid; grill; mimick; whirls; "owns" instead of "has" grilling chores.
I used details (specificity) selectively, according to my focus. My focus was on "Grandfather." I included specifics and concrete nouns, but only subordinated to my focus.
Note that I did not mention other food items, because they would hae marred my focus: Grandfather and Moon Day. The point is, nothing is an end in itself, but is always subordinated to good writing, which includes: focus, subordination, unity, coherence, completeness.
Note that the essay, though short, seems complete. In other words, the reader does not feel (or should not feel) that anything of substance has been left out; because whatever is important to my focus (and my length) has been left in.
Obviously if my length were longer, say ten pages, I would then brainstorm for more details and subordination: descriptions of the family, the backyard, my grandfather, etc. But in terms of my self-imposed limits (several short paragraphs), the reader feels that nothing of importance is missing.
The test is the writer becomes the ideal reader. I ask myself, "Is there anything missing?" My answer is No. The writer, if not skilled enough, may be wrong in his or her answer. Only readers can judge. But this seems to be complete to me.
As for revision, one change I made was to shorten the second version. As I "saw again" my first version, I saw places that were, short as it was, still redundant (repetitious, saying the same thing unnecessarily twice). I shorted the opening. I took out the part about eating cold cuts, because I implied that anyway in my revision.
Other changes were in vocabulary: I replaced "emaciated" with "venous" (vein-lined). Some choices are based on subjective judgment, itself based on wide reading. "Emaciated" sounded too long and cumbersome; "venous" got the job done faster. I added another strong verb, "studied" (compared to just "see"). At the end, I replaced "senile" with "senescent."
Actually, I thought of "senescent" (old) the first time but thought it might be too long a word for a simple essay and typed "senile" instead (like "venous," it was shorter). But "senile" had a too negative connotation (not strong in the head) and changed back to "senescent" (a more neutral word meaning simply "old" or "aging"). Also, the extra "s" sound created a nice sibilance in the final sentence (a final sentence should always be strong): "Grandfather'S Slow SeneScent shuffle beneath an autumn moon on a Still September night."
Note also that I replaced "underneath" with "beneath": again, I prefer shorter words if possible, even if only one syllable shorter.
A Moon Day Memory
On Moon Days I studied my grandfather's unsteady shuffle to the backyard barbecue grill. Pacing slowly, with frozen sausages cradled in his venous arms, he achingly crouches to retrieve a link that slid onto the rough grass. It's a slow odyssey for us as well as him. Our mouths water in gustatory frustration. But this is Grandpa's pride and Father patiently smiles.
With trembling, gnarled fingers, Granddad is scarcely able to grill a sausage through. Fearful for our health, still we mimick pleasure in eating what is served with grandfatherly glee.
Grandfather died two years ago. Dad now owns grilling chores on Moon Day. He whirls from kitchen to garden; his strong fingers insure a safely cooked feast. But hygiene and efficiency can't replace Grandfather's slow senescent shuffle beneath an autumn moon on a still September night.
To review next week's asssignment:
1. A two-paragraph essay on the Moon Festival, based on a personal experience.
2. The two paragraphs should average about 5-8 sentences each. But the main thing is to be complete.
3. A paragraph must
a) have unity (about one thing)
b) focus (a topic idea)
c) coherence (ideas must follow each other logically, in sequence, in order, in time, in space, etc.)
d) completeness (all important information must be included so that the reader feels satisfied and has no unanswered questions). (That means YOU must become both writer and reader, in the sense of taking the place of the reader.)
e) Subordination: General and abstract ideas supported by concrete and specific details.
You should:
1. Brainstorm ideas and keep the list;
2. Eliminate some ideas and keep a record;
3. Sequence (order) the remaining ideas. (This is your simple outline).
Remember (probably the most important thing you'll learn about writing): the writing process is RECURSIVE. Stages of that process are not finished once and for all but RECUR.
For example, sequencing (ordering) may be revised; choice of words; brainstorming may be repeated for subordinate ideas; focus may change; the title may change; more details may be included, others removed.
Writing is in other words a dialectical process of discovery; it's a dialogue between self and script and between writer and (imagined) reader.
That's what "revivison" means: "to see again"; in other words, to see what you've written with fresh eyes so you can see mistakes you didn't see when you were just writing; now you're reading; and, even better, you're reading from the point of view of a specific audience.
As in speeches, there must be a specific purpose in mind (to teach, to humor, to entertain, to frighten, to warn, to explain, etc.) as well as a specific audience.
(By the way, I advise you to write for your classmates, not for your teacher.)
Remember the four kinds of nouns:
abstract: love
concrete: flowers
general: holiday
specific: Moon Festival
Let's briefly study these issues in this excerpt from an early Woody Allen comedy monologue:
"I was watching a ballet, at City Center. And I'm not a ballet fan at all. But they were doing the Dying Swan. And there were some rumors that some bookmakers had drifted into town from upstate New York and they fixed the ballet. Apparently there was a lot of money bet on the swan to live."
Comedy is very much an art of the concrete, as well as of diction (choice of words). Of course other skills are involved too, such as coherence, completeness, etc.
Here notice specific nouns: Ballet (compare: dance), City Center; New York; the Dying Swan (a specific ballet; not a common noun and adjective: a dying bird). This adds color and realism to the story, evoking laughter. Note the strong verb "drifted" (not "came"), which is funny in itself, because bad people (criminals) tend to "drift." "Fixed" is another strong verb, or at least a specific verb (admittedly it's hard to imagine another word choice). Then "bookmakers" is more specific than "gamblers" and "rumors" more specific than "talk." Notice that it's not only New York, but "upstate" New York, again adding color (proper names do the same thing: "my silly boyfriend" is not as funny as, "my silly boyfriend, Caspar"). Note however in one case the comic writer uses a general expression: "lot of money" instead of, say, "two hundred dollars." In other words, being more general is sometimes better than being more specific. Police don't want to know some things about a suspect but want to know other things. And there is no general rule; context is the rule. Knowing the brand of cigarettes a suspect smokes might help catch him in one case but not another.
Let's rewrite this comic monologue, replacing the specific with general ones, and the general phrase with a more specific one:
"I was watching a dance once. And I'm not a dance fan at all. But they were doing a dance about a dying bird. And gamblers fixed the dance. Apparently there was five hundred dollars bet on a different ending."
Same ideas, but NOT FUNNY. The humor comes from the specific language used: lower levels of generality; choice of words ("bookmakers"); strong verbs ("drifted").
A Study of Two Poe Cartoons
A close study of these two cartoons shows that the left one needs a legend beneath the cartoon in order to "explain" what's going on; the cartoon (bottom, right) makes its point clear by including an interesting detail (a volume of Poe's work). Though the writer, left, is supposed to be Poe, he bears no resemblance and looks more like an office clerk. (To be fair, this may have been on purpose, but the point is not clear.)
The bottom cartoon selects "salient" features of Poe's famous face with expressive use of line (like an expressive use of words in writing): the round intense eyes; the wavy hair; the tense jaw; the clenched fist rubbing into Poe's face, etc.
The candle, left, looks like any candle; the candle, bottom, is expressive, with wax drippings and a weaker flame.
The single sheet of paper seems very mechanical (left), while the tossed pages behind Poe is a "salient" or meaningful (vivid) detail that helps us understand Poe and the creative process.
Finally, the specific phrases that Poe crosses out (right), trying to reach the right phrase (the single word, "Nevermore") is more vivid than the more general sentences scribbled on the paper, left.
Again, the cartoonist (top, left) was evidently seeking another kind of humor, since there's a consistency in the choices made: the rigid lines, the severe demeanor of Poe, the straight lines of the candle and the quill pen, all suggest the cartoonist thought there was something funny in them.
Still, the bottom cartoon works better and should serve as a model for writing.
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