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philenaWhen my sister (now in Mongolia) was on the debate team in high school
and in Model UN in college, she decided that she needed to make her
normal style of speech appropriate for someone who did things like
debate and Model UN. Much of this involved trying to say more to mean
less, elaborating on things that didn't need elaboration, and inserting
all sorts of pointless, flowery expressions that sounded good, even if
they had no real role in the conversation. We put up with this for a
while, until my mother laid the smack-down. "Phoebe," she said, "you
are succumbing to a form of adjectival inflation, which will impoverish
your speech when you actually need the kind of effect you're borrowing
now just because it sounds good. There used to be a time when
"outrageous" truly conveyed a sense of outrage,
and now it's used to describe a funny movie. 'Carrey's most outrageous
film yet!' is a good review. And now what are we supposed to say to
describe murder and rape?"*
I agree with her thoroughly. I dislike when words are used where they don't belong, simply because they sound good. My 12th-grade Advance American Literature teacher once asked us to do a project on an American poet, and told us to restrict our poets to fairly famous people. "Someone who has a lot of notoriety," she said, by which she meant someone whose name is easily recognizable. A certain high-ranked politician called the September 11th attacks "acts of cowardice," because it sounded like a good way to say "I don't like what you did." Various columnists responded accurately that whatever those hijackers did, it wasn't cowardly, but I'm willing to bet that the speechwriters who drafted that statement were not thinking about the meaning of what they told this fellow to say, but rather about how it sounded. I resent impoverishment of the language which this sort of behavior helps to cause. Certain words are overused, to the point where they acquire such a general meaning of vague approbation or disapprobation (often switching sides in the process); and other--incredibly useful--words drop out of use, to the point where politicians need to resign because stupid people got offended by the use of the word "niggardly."
However, there is a point to all this. I know that, even if outrage has lost a word to express that unique meaning in all of its original force and connotation, the feeling still exists. And I felt it earlier today, in a setting where I perhaps should have moderated my emotions, if only so people passing by didn't get upset or scared by my angry mutterings. I know that what aroused the outrage was nowhere near as horrible as the sort of stimulus that should arouse it--like violent crime--but my reaction was just as strong as if it had been. It was outside a display window of the campus Barnes and Noble, and the content of the display was "teen fiction," or "teen books" or something aimed at "teens." And in the corner was a sign saying something like "introduction to classics," or "starting with classics" or something suggesting that this display was aimed at introducing "teens" to "classics." And they displayed a number of nice hardcover editions of Sherlock Holmes stories and Louisa May Alcott and Robin Hood and Frances Hodgson Burnett, all of which were retold from the original! They decided that the best way to introduce fourteen-year-olds to famous books was to say to them, "look, here are these great books which, although they were originally aimed at someone much younger than you are, are still too difficult for you, so we'll make them easier. Because you're too stupid to appreciate them in the original--well, the original English." How does this help anyone? If by the age of fourteen one still can't cope with the prose of an author who originally wrote for eight-year-olds, what on earth made the marketers think that these teenagers are going to read Great Literature if it is dumbed down for them? They might not be able to to understand various words or syntactic structures that people used a hundred years ago, but I'm pretty sure they're smart enough to recognize patronizing condescension, and if they're not, I am. There is so much junk that is written to "get kids to read," aimed at grabbing their attention and instilling in them a taste for reading, even if what they are actually reading is not particularly good. Captain Underpants, for example, is often lauded as achieving that goal, and some people say there actually is even some literary merit to him. Having never read any of his books, I will refrain from commenting on that particular issue, but I will point to it as my example. With works like Captain Underpants, why do we need to make great books more "accessible" to serve that same purpose, which is nowhere near as honorable as the purpose those classics originally served? If you have to introduce a reader to one book at a time, he'll never get anywhere, and if you want to introduce him to reading in general, there is already plenty of dreck to grab his attention. Don't add to it by making great texts more of the rapidly growing category of, "Well, it's not very good, but they've got to start somewhere." Both the starters and the texts deserve better treatment than that.
* Or something to that effect.
I agree with her thoroughly. I dislike when words are used where they don't belong, simply because they sound good. My 12th-grade Advance American Literature teacher once asked us to do a project on an American poet, and told us to restrict our poets to fairly famous people. "Someone who has a lot of notoriety," she said, by which she meant someone whose name is easily recognizable. A certain high-ranked politician called the September 11th attacks "acts of cowardice," because it sounded like a good way to say "I don't like what you did." Various columnists responded accurately that whatever those hijackers did, it wasn't cowardly, but I'm willing to bet that the speechwriters who drafted that statement were not thinking about the meaning of what they told this fellow to say, but rather about how it sounded. I resent impoverishment of the language which this sort of behavior helps to cause. Certain words are overused, to the point where they acquire such a general meaning of vague approbation or disapprobation (often switching sides in the process); and other--incredibly useful--words drop out of use, to the point where politicians need to resign because stupid people got offended by the use of the word "niggardly."
However, there is a point to all this. I know that, even if outrage has lost a word to express that unique meaning in all of its original force and connotation, the feeling still exists. And I felt it earlier today, in a setting where I perhaps should have moderated my emotions, if only so people passing by didn't get upset or scared by my angry mutterings. I know that what aroused the outrage was nowhere near as horrible as the sort of stimulus that should arouse it--like violent crime--but my reaction was just as strong as if it had been. It was outside a display window of the campus Barnes and Noble, and the content of the display was "teen fiction," or "teen books" or something aimed at "teens." And in the corner was a sign saying something like "introduction to classics," or "starting with classics" or something suggesting that this display was aimed at introducing "teens" to "classics." And they displayed a number of nice hardcover editions of Sherlock Holmes stories and Louisa May Alcott and Robin Hood and Frances Hodgson Burnett, all of which were retold from the original! They decided that the best way to introduce fourteen-year-olds to famous books was to say to them, "look, here are these great books which, although they were originally aimed at someone much younger than you are, are still too difficult for you, so we'll make them easier. Because you're too stupid to appreciate them in the original--well, the original English." How does this help anyone? If by the age of fourteen one still can't cope with the prose of an author who originally wrote for eight-year-olds, what on earth made the marketers think that these teenagers are going to read Great Literature if it is dumbed down for them? They might not be able to to understand various words or syntactic structures that people used a hundred years ago, but I'm pretty sure they're smart enough to recognize patronizing condescension, and if they're not, I am. There is so much junk that is written to "get kids to read," aimed at grabbing their attention and instilling in them a taste for reading, even if what they are actually reading is not particularly good. Captain Underpants, for example, is often lauded as achieving that goal, and some people say there actually is even some literary merit to him. Having never read any of his books, I will refrain from commenting on that particular issue, but I will point to it as my example. With works like Captain Underpants, why do we need to make great books more "accessible" to serve that same purpose, which is nowhere near as honorable as the purpose those classics originally served? If you have to introduce a reader to one book at a time, he'll never get anywhere, and if you want to introduce him to reading in general, there is already plenty of dreck to grab his attention. Don't add to it by making great texts more of the rapidly growing category of, "Well, it's not very good, but they've got to start somewhere." Both the starters and the texts deserve better treatment than that.
* Or something to that effect.
