A person who has not been completely alienated, who has remained sensitive and able to feel, who has not lost the sense of dignity, who is not yet "for sale", who can still suffer over the suffering of others, who has not acquired fully the having mode of existence—briefly, a person who has remained a person and not become a thing, cannot help feeling lonely, powerless, isolated in present-day society.
Erich Fromm, The Art of Being
There’s so much suspense in this sentence! What about this person who isn’t completely alienated? The answer is postponed because the subject, “a person” is separated from the verb predicate, “cannot help feeling” by the great middle of modifying information. It reminds me of Japanese and German, which place the verb at the end of a sentence, so the listener pays close attention, waiting to understand what action the subject will take. It’s a pretty clever way to cultivate listening.
A mid-branching sentence (which is what Fromm’s sentence is called, with the subject separated from the verb predicate) also can heighten the reader’s attention.
When I read this kind of sentence, I feel the subject becoming more delineated and richer with the accruing details, which narrows the gap between me and the subject, and all this happens before the verb. In some ways, it’s a mini version of a macro technique in which you build a looming event—some event that is about to happen but hasn’t yet—that creates an overarching tension, allowing you to write quieter moments about the character.
For his modifiers, Fromm uses anaphora, in which a word(s) is repeated at the beginning of successive phrases, clauses, or sentences. Seven relative clauses with the repetition of “who” create rhythm, heightened emotion, and structure. The risk is that you lose the reader with such a long litany. Fromm tries to remedy this by repeating the subject, “briefly, a person…” after the sixth modifier. (Did it work for you?)
If anaphora is overdone, dullness settles in because it becomes predictable. Fromm has a remedy for this, too. He varies the modifying clauses, some of which are negative (who has not…), and some of which are positive, with the final clause including both a positive and a negative: “a person who has remained a person and not a thing.”
He also creates variety by sprinkling in balance, the pairing of twos, and series, the threes. For instance, the first relative clause has one adjective: “who has not been completely alienated.” The next clause includes balance: “who has remained sensitive and able to feel.” In the fifth clause, he uses polyptoton, a figure of speech that involves the repetition of words derived from the same root: “who can still suffer over the suffering of others.”
When we finally reach the verb predicate, the rhythm speeds up via anastrophe, or the omission of conjunctions: “lonely, powerless, isolated.” Whatever ending you’ve built to should be a surprise or in some way satisfying. Fromm surprised me that the sensitive, empathetic, alive, dignified, not completely alienated person, that person, despite all the good leads such a crummy life.
Your Turn!
Write a base clause, which includes a subject and a verb.
Now separate the subject and verb by adding six clauses or phrases that flesh out your subject.
Can you make some of the modifiers negative and some positive? Can you use anaphora? Balance? Polyptoton?
After these six clauses, repeat the subject to anchor the reader in the sentence. Then add one more phrase or clause that includes both a positive and a negative modifier.
Finally, here comes your verb predicate. Can you add series? Asyndeton?
There’s room for music.
Do you hear the long “a”: alienated, remained (twice), able, sale
And the long ‘”o”: lonely, isolated.
And long “e”: feel, feeling, remained (twice)
And the alliteration of the “s” like little bells ringing throughout, creating cohesion: sensitive, sense, sale, still, suffer, suffering, society.
Try it!
Let me know how it goes!
I recently heard from several writers’ groups that they use these sentences as prompts to generate new work. That’s so cool!
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. In each of these classes, we spend 10 to 15 weeks drenched in the beauty of sentences, reading them and writing them. It’s such a pleasure! I’ve watched my writing and my students’ writing blossom with this practice of paying close attention to the sentence.
Please visit my website to find all of my books, www.ninaschuyler.com. You’ll find my book, How to Write Stunning Sentences, and my new book, Stunning Sentences: A Creative Writing Journal. I’d really love it if you preordered my novel, Afterword, which will be published in May 2023.
Preorder links:
https://bookshop.org/p/books/afterword-nina-schuyler/18618162?ean=9781955904704
https://smile.amazon.com/Afterword-Nina-Schuyler/dp/1955904707/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3TZ5QIYJ90EYM&keywords=afterword+nina&qid=1673155946&sprefix=afterword+nina%2Caps%2C139&sr=8-1
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I’m so thrilled to have the generous words from Peter Orner who read my novel, Afterword. Peter is a fabulous writer who tends to his sentence as if they were all his children. He has a wonderful new book out, Still No Word From You: Notes in the Margin, which I highly recommend.
I very much like the analysis of technique, but lord, the content is overwhelmingly spot on. Seems like Erich Fromm’s books were everywhere in the sixties and seventies, but I have not heard his name invoked much lately (it’s high time!)
Are these relative clauses also considered adjective clauses? We did a lesson on adjective clauses (https://youtu.be/04Ienlw3ccg), and it's refreshing to see how they can be used so lyrically.