Wednesday, June 19, 2013

The Art of Linguistic Expression



I was watching a video online the other day, of Jeanette Winterson interviewing A M Homes, in which both authors agreed that people no longer cared about the quality of writing in a book. One of them, I don't remember which, suggested that use of language was never mentioned anymore when a new book was reviewed, and the other nodded vigorously in agreement. Both authors felt that the new generation of readers didn't seek out high-level linguistic expression in books, and they attributed this modern lack of interest in the quality of writing to the internet era - to text-speak and emoticons, to acronyms and abbreviations.

I found the whole thing peculiar, because whilst I acknowledge that there is a generation currently developing into adulthood who communicate largely through informal means, where the rules of grammar are less important than the speed of getting a point across, I haven't seen evidence yet that this has been translated into the world of literature. I read a lot of reviews, and the focus of these seems much the same these days as it always has been. Similarly it seems to me that the use of language is as important as ever in deciding who should win a literary prize.

Of course the existence of new technologies has changed modern literature in some interesting ways - for example, the chapter in Jennifer Egan's Pulitzer Prize winning novel A Visit From the Goon Squad which is written entirely in Powerpoint could not have existed fifteen years ago, and there have been a number of other books (like 'e' by Matt Beaumont, an epistolary novel written entirely as a string of emails between workers in an advertising agency, and Hold the Fries by Nina Schindler, which is told exclusively through letters and text messages) that make a strong feature of new technologies. But in my view a really good book (including the ones mentioned above) is still one which combines beautiful writing with remarkable story. And I truly don't believe that the text-generation will do away with lyricism, or clever use of vocabulary, or spare but stunning prose.

Maybe I am being optimistic. But I think it is far more likely that Homes and Winterson are being unduly pessimistic. Every generation feels the next spells the end of what matters. And inevitably, that next generation simply introduces change to the existing order - not on a grand scale, but
on the same incremental level as the change wrought by the generation before. Change is not a bad thing. Organic beings are defined by constant change. That's what it is to be organic. Change is growth.

And language, like human beings, is in a state of constant flux; it's like a living organism. Those of us living in the English-speaking world are perhaps less aware of this fact than people in some other cultures, because English is the official language in several countries. In some non-English speaking nations formal linguistic change is more obvious. For example, Germany has formalised the process of updating the national language in a way that has a very real influence on spoken German. An official committee meets regularly to discuss whether a new word should be adopted into German from slang, or from another language, due to regular usage, or whether an existing word should be dropped, or even whether a spelling or a grammatical rule or a Germanic oddity has reached its use-by date. When I grew up in Munich the 'Eszett' or 'scharfes S' still existed - a letter that looked like a capital B on a stick, which denoted a sharp 's' sound. Several years ago it was decided that this should be dropped, and now two S's in a row are used instead to create the same sound. The change was announced, and almost immediately it took effect across the nation.

The English language, too, has official committees devoted to guiding the way our language evolves. In the UK, for example, the Queen's English Society fills that position. But generally those of us who reside in the 'colonies' are unaware of the decisions reached by that Society. Certainly I can't remember ever being aware of an 'official' change occurring in the English language from one day to the next. For conversational English, evolution is largely informal - although the introduction into Urban Dictionary and even the eventual adoption by the Oxford English Dictionary of new English words does indicate that such change is eventually accommodated and embedded in a more formal way. As loathe as I am to acknowledge it, even grammatical errors that become common usage due to ignorance can, through persistent use, eventually become accepted parts of the English language. My personal reluctance to accept the use of 'but' at the end of a sentence rather than as it was intended, a conjunction between two parts of a sentence, does not mean that this abomination will not be regarded as a permitted use of the word in due course. And our objection to abbreviated text-speak does not mean that some of it won't ultimately find its way into the English lexicon.

Nevertheless, I truly believe that in literature, beauty and wit are still widely regarded as virtues. The concept or definition of beauty might change from generation to generation, but I think it is unlikely that the next generation will do away with it altogether. Even in hip-hop and rap music, pithy expression and a clever turn of phrase are admired. The fact that language, and the way language is used, has changed with the advent of the internet and the smartphone, with email and Facebook and Twitter, does not mean that readers have suddenly let go of what has always been one of the joys of reading - experiencing the exceptional use of language by one who wields it with unusual skill.

What do you reckon? Does language matter to you when you read? Do you prefer books where the writer has a particularly aesthetic approach to language? Or do you not care how an author expresses herself as long as the plot keeps you reading?




2 comments:

  1. I'm totally with you on this point; I enjoy books in both categories; great stories plainly written (although I did find Keith Richards' autobiography a tough slog due to its very conversational manner) and books where the enjoyment of reading comes from the eloquent prose. In fact when I think of the books I most enjoyed and/or admired and remember, they mostly fall into the latter category (such as Updike's Rabbit series, books which are really just about life but so beautifully written as to be "unputdownable").

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  2. 50 Shades of Grey was a painful read, not because of the violence but because of the terrible, repetitive writing. I slogged through it as a library challenge (to read something everyone has read but me!) but my cries of woe could be heard throughout the land. The Elegance of the Hedgehog forced my brain to click into high gear, as its truly elegant use of language (perhaps because it was translated from beautiful French?)required a different kind of attention.

    For me, it depends on why I'm reading. When I'm on the beach and my children will be interrupting me 100 times for snacks/sunscreen/towelling off, something light and easy to follow is best. For night reading, when everyone is tucked in (my delicious uninterrupted reading time), something like Half of a Yellow Sun with, as you say, its combination of beautiful writing AND excellent story is just the thing.

    As I read your post, I thought of painters who have used the same range of colours since art began. Colour is just used in new ways over and over again to create something fresh, different, and as subject to love/hate as any piece of literature. New blends create new shades in new combinations, just as words are wrought in new ways.

    As always, this post was a joy to read and to ponder over morning coffee!

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