When the Chairman walks in, as The East is Red blares only it can, rolling like thunder and blasting out daylights, the Hall erupts into mass hysteria where the delegates unite to compete to display the greatest fervor: some sob uncontrollably, some burst their lungs shouting “Long Live the Chairman,” all heads bobbing in a red sea of Wisdom Books, drowning with the bliss of absolute devotion.
There is so much energy in this passage with the words "blares," "blasting," "erupts," and then the echo of that with "burst their lungs." A certain hyperbole here, and you capture that with "mass hysteria." It's as if the hyperbolic is demanded or required or else--the threat of the Chairman, of his power. Absolute loyalty is required. And then the diction hints at the cost of this devotion with "heads bobbing in a red sea" and "drowning with the bliss of absolute devotion." I don't know what the Wisdom Books are but I love the specificity, along with "The East is Red."
Thank you Nina! Wisdom Books came to me because "The Book of Quotations from the Chairman" was way too long and wouldn't have any emotion for this scene, and the informal name "The Little Red Book" doesn't really capture the weightiness of the worship. I'm glad you like it!
I'm always pendulating between adding and subtracting words, phrases, ideas. Sometimes sentences seem to nestle in paragraphs, nicely chugging along. Sometimes they seem to be paragraphs in themselves.
Thanks so much for this excellent post (and what a lovely discovery your Substack is). Helps me to now keep an eye when I'm toing and froing (thinking and feeling) in my writing.
Here's the opening sentence(s) in a recent post of mine...(I think of it because this, and following paragraphs, were chipped away at and added to in much the way you describe here):
Throughout the ceaseless Swedish winter oceans of gently tumbling snow fall in heavy waves for months on end as the heavens perpetually collapse in spectacular silence. Colossal storm clouds bruise the sky while the blue black of all creation twinkles above and the snow entombs the land in a tender light below. The dog and I traverse the string of storms like two ghosts haunting a winter wonderland.
Beautiful! The adjectives add such texture and emotion. "Ceaseless," brings a sense of being trapped; "Swedish" is an efficient way to tell the reader the location. I loved the metaphor of snow compared to oceans, which captures the overwhelming amount of snow. "Spectacular" silence" rings out with the alliteration. There is a beautiful parallel here with the mention of the snow and heavens early in the sentence, then later the blue black of all creation and the snow entombing--heave and earth; land and sky.
I’m so thrilled to learn of your substack. So often feedback is flat: it’s a great sentence or a bad sentence (resonates or doesn’t resonate). But there’s not a detailed discussion on how to change that. I really appreciate the analysis perspective.
Thank you so much! I'm glad it's helpful! I know it's expanded my ability to write many different kinds of sentences and fine-tuned my ear for the musicality of language.
As the first light of dawn caressed the horizon, with the morning mist weaving through the sleepy town and the gentle hum of awakening filling the air, our world transformed: the garden, once my mother's pride, became a canvas of memories. Its flowers, a mosaic of colors and fragrances, seemed to hold the essence of past laughter and whispered secrets: roses recalling tender moments, and lilies standing as quiet guardians of serenity. And there, amidst the blooms, two figures danced in the morning light, their movements a silent language of shared solitude, their shadows entwining on the dew-soaked earth, writing a story only the heart could read, in a place where every petal and leaf whispered of continuity and new beginnings.
I really enjoyed reading this, Nina. Your explanations are always useful, especially for me as grammar is my weakest point when it comes to writing. The forest is so visible in this example. You might also be interested in my substack piece about liminal space... https://yasminchopin.substack.com/p/10-liminal-space.
When my father returns, if he ever leaves his buxom mistress with the wild-waist hair and scarlet, fulsome lips, and saunters back into the house with a hand in one pocket and a twinkle in his green eye, then my mother will uncurl herself from her arid despair and we will drink and sate our parched throats with her tears.
When the Chairman walks in, as The East is Red blares only it can, rolling like thunder and blasting out daylights, the Hall erupts into mass hysteria where the delegates unite to compete to display the greatest fervor: some sob uncontrollably, some burst their lungs shouting “Long Live the Chairman,” all heads bobbing in a red sea of Wisdom Books, drowning with the bliss of absolute devotion.
There is so much energy in this passage with the words "blares," "blasting," "erupts," and then the echo of that with "burst their lungs." A certain hyperbole here, and you capture that with "mass hysteria." It's as if the hyperbolic is demanded or required or else--the threat of the Chairman, of his power. Absolute loyalty is required. And then the diction hints at the cost of this devotion with "heads bobbing in a red sea" and "drowning with the bliss of absolute devotion." I don't know what the Wisdom Books are but I love the specificity, along with "The East is Red."
Thank you Nina! Wisdom Books came to me because "The Book of Quotations from the Chairman" was way too long and wouldn't have any emotion for this scene, and the informal name "The Little Red Book" doesn't really capture the weightiness of the worship. I'm glad you like it!
I'm always pendulating between adding and subtracting words, phrases, ideas. Sometimes sentences seem to nestle in paragraphs, nicely chugging along. Sometimes they seem to be paragraphs in themselves.
Thanks so much for this excellent post (and what a lovely discovery your Substack is). Helps me to now keep an eye when I'm toing and froing (thinking and feeling) in my writing.
Here's the opening sentence(s) in a recent post of mine...(I think of it because this, and following paragraphs, were chipped away at and added to in much the way you describe here):
Throughout the ceaseless Swedish winter oceans of gently tumbling snow fall in heavy waves for months on end as the heavens perpetually collapse in spectacular silence. Colossal storm clouds bruise the sky while the blue black of all creation twinkles above and the snow entombs the land in a tender light below. The dog and I traverse the string of storms like two ghosts haunting a winter wonderland.
Beautiful! The adjectives add such texture and emotion. "Ceaseless," brings a sense of being trapped; "Swedish" is an efficient way to tell the reader the location. I loved the metaphor of snow compared to oceans, which captures the overwhelming amount of snow. "Spectacular" silence" rings out with the alliteration. There is a beautiful parallel here with the mention of the snow and heavens early in the sentence, then later the blue black of all creation and the snow entombing--heave and earth; land and sky.
That was such an astute and sensitive critique, Nina. Thank you so much. You've made my day :)
I’m so thrilled to learn of your substack. So often feedback is flat: it’s a great sentence or a bad sentence (resonates or doesn’t resonate). But there’s not a detailed discussion on how to change that. I really appreciate the analysis perspective.
Thank you so much! I'm glad it's helpful! I know it's expanded my ability to write many different kinds of sentences and fine-tuned my ear for the musicality of language.
Beautiful! And I have The Comfort of Crows beside me on my nightstand. What a gorgeous volume in every way.
So many astonishing sentences!
As the first light of dawn caressed the horizon, with the morning mist weaving through the sleepy town and the gentle hum of awakening filling the air, our world transformed: the garden, once my mother's pride, became a canvas of memories. Its flowers, a mosaic of colors and fragrances, seemed to hold the essence of past laughter and whispered secrets: roses recalling tender moments, and lilies standing as quiet guardians of serenity. And there, amidst the blooms, two figures danced in the morning light, their movements a silent language of shared solitude, their shadows entwining on the dew-soaked earth, writing a story only the heart could read, in a place where every petal and leaf whispered of continuity and new beginnings.
Love the "silent language of shared solitude" and the "story only the heart could read." So simple so precise yet so profound.
Thank you so much!
I really enjoyed reading this, Nina. Your explanations are always useful, especially for me as grammar is my weakest point when it comes to writing. The forest is so visible in this example. You might also be interested in my substack piece about liminal space... https://yasminchopin.substack.com/p/10-liminal-space.
Thank you! I've been thinking about the liminal space and am excited to read your piece!
When my father returns, if he ever leaves his buxom mistress with the wild-waist hair and scarlet, fulsome lips, and saunters back into the house with a hand in one pocket and a twinkle in his green eye, then my mother will uncurl herself from her arid despair and we will drink and sate our parched throats with her tears.