On the Force of Style
Matrix by Lauren Groff
But at seventeen, in this spare chamber at the court in Westminster, she could be no equal to the elegant and story-loving queen, who, though small in body, absorbed all light, all thought from Marie’s head, all breath from her lungs.
Matrix, by Lauren Groff
It’s 1158, and Queen Eleanor banishes young Marie, “a giantess of a maiden,” and “a bastardess” sibling of the crown, to a remote abbey. So far, I’ve only read 40 pages, but I’ve underlined so many sentences because Groff’s gorgeous writing, abundant with style, grants me views of the world I haven’t seen before. I’m taking it slowly.
Before the sentence highlighted here, Marie is adamant that she doesn’t want to go to the abbey and views religion as foolish. Will she defy the queen?
We have some sense that she will not because of the conjunction, “But,” which turns the sentence in a new direction. Groff uses a left-branching sentence to delay the definitive answer using four short prepositional phrases: 1) at seventeen, 2) in this spare chamber, 3) at the court, 4) in Westminster. With this built-up suspense, which so efficiently establishes the setting, we arrive at the base clause: “she could be no equal to the elegant and story-loving queen.”
“Story-loving” is an unusual adjective, and at this juncture of the novel, it has yet to be on display. Because it’s unusual, it draws attention to itself, especially with the parallelism or balance of the two adjectives “elegant and story-loving.” Now I’m primed to watch how this adjective plays out in the plot.
There’s a formal tone to the verb “could be no equal,” to capture the era. (A less formal tone might be “she wasn’t equal.”)
The sentence does defy linearity and becomes jagged, capturing Marie’s inner turbulence. She doesn’t want to leave the court, but she cannot stand up to the queen. The sentence begins with a relative pronoun, “who,” but a concessive phrase interrupts, “though small in body.” A concessive phrase or clause expresses a fact that’s surprising or unexpected and often begins with “though” or “although.” It’s perfect because although she’s small, the queen has expansive powers and presence.
We come back to the relative clause that was launched by “who” and Groff unfurls anaphora, the repetition of word(s) at the beginning of phrases or clauses: “who absorbed all light, all thought from Marie’s head, all breath from her lungs.” There’s hyperbole in this, appropriate for a 17-year-old, and there is the vast power differential between a bastard kid and a queen. Groff is highly aware of rhythm, varying the syllable count in this series (three things) to make things more interesting for the ear, which loves variability:
1) All light (2 syllables)
2) All thought from Marie’s head (6)
3) All breath from her lungs (5)
Groff brilliantly mimics syntactically the contrast between the queen’s small physicality with the short concessive phrase and then her enormous power with the long relative clause.
Your Turn
Open with four short prepositional phrases that establish the protagonist’s age and the setting.
Add your base clause.
Begin a relative clause using only the relative pronoun (who, which, that, whom).
Interrupt it with a short concessive phrase (‘though’ or ‘although’) to create a contrast to the relative clause.
Return to your relative clause and use anaphora three times.
Try it!
How did it go?
Something New! Sentence Intensive!
A stunningly glorious sentence from a published work sent to you for five consecutive days, with analysis and instructions on how to make it.
Consider the possibility that this sentence will refuse to live alone and ask you to write another and another, keep going, and soon, the egg of a story emerges. I’ve seen it happen. One astonishingly lovely sentence ignites something inside, and others stir and awake and gather and demand to live on the page.
Each day, post what you write, and I’ll comment. Let’s make it a writing community, with others chiming in, too.
We’ll have four sessions like this throughout the year. The first one is September 8-12. Consider becoming a paid subscriber to join!
Swimming in Style
For paid subscribers, we gather monthly on Zoom for 90 minutes to write stunning sentences, enough to write a paragraph and possibly more. It’s astonishing how one paragraph can blossom into a story. I’ve seen it happen many times. We’re also building a really wonderful community of writers!
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Our next monthly gathering is September 27 at 11:00 am Pacific Time.
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Incredibly Honored
My recent short story collection, In This Ravishing World, has been shortlisted for the Northern California Book Award for Fiction, as one of the best works by a Northern California author published in 2024! An awards ceremony will take place Saturday, September 6, 2:00 pm at the San Francisco Public Library. So grateful!
Upcoming Classes
Reading Like a Writer: Unlocking Creativity Through Literary Analysis: Fall semester at Stanford Continuing Studies, which begins September 22, I’ll be teaching an online class, “Reading Like a Writer.” The skill of reading slowly, carefully, and granularly is the closest thing I’ve found to becoming one’s own teacher. We’ll read short stories and two short novels, extracting craft techniques that you can use in your writing. Registration opens August 18.
About Me
I’ve taught “Style in Fiction,” “Word for Word,” and “Cultivating Your Prose” at the University of San Francisco and Stanford Continuing Studies since 2007.
My short story collection, In this Ravishing World, won the W.S. Porter Prize and the Prism Prize for Climate Literature and was published in July 2024. My award-winning novel, Afterword, was published in May 2023. My novel, The Translator, was a finalist for the William Saroyan International Writing Prize, and The Painting, a finalist for the Northern California Book Award.
Sentence Lovers! New second editions of my nonfiction books, How to Write Stunning Sentences and Stunning Sentences: A Creative Writing Journal, are coming in January 2026. You can preorder now.
Please visit my website: www.ninaschuyler.com
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Fresh from college, first time at the big table, three Pulitzers and a Cronkite clone around me I saw Ben Bradlee beaming at the head, who–despite a diffident manner–was the magnetic field drawing the sharp comments, the sharper dissections, the sharpest acumen towards him.
Having grift it to thirty, drinking his schooner among men at the Marble Bar who brayed at the Yank, Lee knew he had arrived in hick town heaven, who would be yanked out of the pub along with their sheilas in the ladies lounge, yanked into the Old Tin Shed where the big acts would perform, yanked of their cash, yanked back again.