Beringer Words in a Black Box Story

"A true poet does not say 'azure,' a true poet says 'blue.'"
- Else Lasker-Schüler

Writers love words. They are our raw material--our mahogany or clay or musical notes. We thrill over "fabulation" or "sybaritic" or "quodlibet." We roll such words around in our mouth, swishing and savoring them like a fine wine.

Sometimes, though, those words just won't do. Sometimes, we have to use "blue," though azure satisfies our idyllic sensibility. For what does voyeuristic have to do with an Army private or theurgy with a used car salesman?

Or, as Oscar Hammerstein II (son of the great Hammerstein) put it, "What is a character like Nellie Forbush [from South Pacific], a self-professed "corny as Kansas in August" girl doing singing 'I'm bromidic and bright'?"

In Finishing the Hat, Stephen Sondheim writes of two regrets connected to his work as lyricist for West Side Story. One of them was "that many of the lyrics in West Side Story suffer from a self-conscious effort to be what Lenny [Leonard Bernstein] deemed 'poetic,'" lyrics like "Tonight there will be no morning star," sung by a New York City street guy, a gang member who has most likely never seen a morning star as such stars don't appear above the Manhatten skyline. Sondheim complains that often the work "sounds like the writer, not the character."

In other words, character dictates diction. Sometimes we need to give up the Beringer Private Reserve Cab for a glass of The Black Box.

I confess, I can fall for a beautiful line permeating golden sunsets, perfumed lilacs, and silky shadows, but the charged wit that draws me back to an author often has nothing to do with pollysyllabic words. It has more to do with a character using the words at his disposal in a way that's both unusual and everyday.

I suppose I could make some connection to theology, ivory towers and everyday situations and all that jazz, but I won't. Instead, I'll pour a glass of 2010 vintage cab from the spout of a stay-fresh plastic bag.

Heather A. Goodman loves a good metaphor. Some of her favorites include "sleep eludes me like a watermelon seed on freshly waxed tile" (from My Name Is Russell Fink by Mike Snyder) and a closet described as "messier than a presidential impeachment" (from Club Sandwich by Lisa Samson). Heather blogs at L'Chaim.

Comments

[Melissa from the Blue House]

Love this. :) SO true. I hate it when people use fancy words when a plain one would do...

[Michelle Pendergrass]

Love the title. Love wine in general, but you already know that ;)