Thank you, Nina. I had never heard of this writer, but I will be on the lookout for his work. Very interesting sentence. On my first quick read I strangely enough got the opposite impression of what it actually says, and then I was like, wait a minute, try this again, but more slowly. I wonder if he intended that effect or if, as you suggest, it’s inherent in the contrast between the dire subject matter and the dazzling beauty of Arroyo’s prose.
I had that happen, too, on my second read. And that made me realize that the music of the sentence is undercutting the content, inviting beauty and joy into the world. Then again, this story is told via a third-person omniscient narrator. So the music and joy might be attributed to the narrator and not to Boogaloo.
It’s really interesting that a sentence can achieve opposing effects in this way. Like an ironic line of dialogue. Writing beauty in the face of monotony, or painfully plain and simple to describe the Grand Canyon, or the Sistine Chapel ceiling art.
Yes! It creates another story line that undercuts the literal story line and invites a different interpretation of the story. There's also more tension. If the literal story is hardship and the sentence is singing joy--which one will win out?
That reminds me of the Canadian writer Douglas Glover who wrote about creating tension and conflict on the grammar and syntax level. I think he gives examples of this from Alice Munro, Virginia Woolf and Kipling. Love counterpoint!
Thank you, Nina. I had never heard of this writer, but I will be on the lookout for his work. Very interesting sentence. On my first quick read I strangely enough got the opposite impression of what it actually says, and then I was like, wait a minute, try this again, but more slowly. I wonder if he intended that effect or if, as you suggest, it’s inherent in the contrast between the dire subject matter and the dazzling beauty of Arroyo’s prose.
I had that happen, too, on my second read. And that made me realize that the music of the sentence is undercutting the content, inviting beauty and joy into the world. Then again, this story is told via a third-person omniscient narrator. So the music and joy might be attributed to the narrator and not to Boogaloo.
It’s really interesting that a sentence can achieve opposing effects in this way. Like an ironic line of dialogue. Writing beauty in the face of monotony, or painfully plain and simple to describe the Grand Canyon, or the Sistine Chapel ceiling art.
Yes! It creates another story line that undercuts the literal story line and invites a different interpretation of the story. There's also more tension. If the literal story is hardship and the sentence is singing joy--which one will win out?
That reminds me of the Canadian writer Douglas Glover who wrote about creating tension and conflict on the grammar and syntax level. I think he gives examples of this from Alice Munro, Virginia Woolf and Kipling. Love counterpoint!