Anders put off telling his father, why he was not sure, maybe because his father had always seemed a little disappointed in him, and this would add to his disappointment, or maybe because his father had enough on his plate, and Anders did not want to increase his burden, or maybe because until his father was told it would not really have happened, Anders would still be Anders, there in the house where he grew up, and the telling would undo that, and make everything different, irrevocably different, but whatever the reason he waited, he waited and then he told.
“The Face in the Mirror,” by Mohsin Hamid (The New Yorker, May 16, 2022)
Back to the open field of a long sentence.
When I re-read Hamid’s short story, I was struck again by how the long sentences create freshness, originality, and even excitement. Where will the sentence end? How?
Style has power, and to see it done, over and over, to feel the writing create a forward motion, a desire to keep reading so as to encounter another stunning long sentence-- well, I thought all of this merited one more close look at one of Hamid’s sentences. There’s also a wish that maybe it can become yours because sometimes a sentence needs to be long; sometimes the situation refuses to be concise, flatly defying the neat subject, verb, and object order.
The Making
Begin with an independent clause: “Anders put off telling his father”
Add a parenthetical: “why he was not sure” (this slows down the sentence and dramatizes the mind in action rather than repose)
Now comes a series (three) of “maybe because” and they are connected with the conjunction “or.” This series captures how little we really know about human motivation, how it is often an after-the-fact rationalization.
1. Maybe because his father had always seemed a little disappointed in him, and this would add to his disappointment OR
2. Maybe because his father had enough on his plate, and Anders did not want to increase his burden OR
3. Maybe because until his father was told it would not really have happened, Anders would still be Anders, there in the house where he grew up, and the telling would undo that, and make everything different, irrevocably different.
There’s more to say about this series. It creates a build to the third possible motivation, which feels to be the truest. And the final “maybe because” is the longest, drawing the most attention to it. Hamid uses a compound-complex sentence: “until his father was told (dependent clause) it would not really have happened (independent clause).” Then Hamid modifies that independent clause, elaborating what, exactly, would not have happened: “Anders would still be Anders, there in the house where he grew up.” Then comes another independent clause “and the telling would undo that and make everything different, irrevocably different.”
The repetition of “different” makes the word memorable and conveys Anders’ deep concern. Your English teacher, like mine, probably insisted on not using repetition (we had to bring a thesaurus to English class to avoid this error). But repetition can convey a character’s anxiety, as it does here. If you like learning terms, Hamid’s sentence uses epistrophe: the repetition of word(s) or clauses at the end of phrases, clauses or sentences.
Now add a conjunction (Hamid uses ‘but’) and end with a compound/complex sentence: “whatever the reason, he waited, he waited and then he told.”
The “he waited, he waited”—that will piss off your English teachers, too. It’s a comma splice: two independent clauses connected by a comma rather than a conjunction or a semicolon.
But you, dear creative writer, you can use it to create speed. There, now you have permission.
Let me know how it goes.
Oh Nina, I love that you used the comma splice in this piece! I loved the forward motion, the excitement that builds in the long sentence. Thanks so much, now back to my story ha ha.
So, I've continued my 'story' idea from the previous post, as per the example. And I must just say that romance is not my usual go-to story idea, but for some reason the long sentence idea has ignited some melodramatic, sentimental spark in me. In fact, 'm a bit embarrassed by having come up with it all. Anyway, here's my second long sentence, and I still feel that it makes me uncomfortable to write like this, as though I'm being lazy, not purposeful.
Julia couldn’t put off the moment any longer, this she knew, and had known since the morning he came into her office and found her crying, since that same evening when she’d found herself unloading onto his broad, welcoming shoulders all the hurt and humiliation, her hopeless loyalty towards the one who had been so prodigal with it, and since he’d promised her he’d never be so cruel, so foolish, and what a prize she was, but how could she continue, walk down that festive aisle ahead, with her mother watching, shedding joyful tears, when her heart was broken.