Formulaic Words

There was a trending hashtag today on Twitter for #NYTBooks. As someone who once wrote something that got published in the NYTimes, I found it especially hilarious.

My suggested title for my essay, "Winnie the Pooh and Baggage, Too," was clearly not right for that publication, but the title it was actually published under, "Fuzzy, Purple and Full of Thorns," didn't seem right for the essay (not that I'm complaining, considering I was ecstatic to have a piece in the newspaper at all.  They could have called it "Not Worth Your Time to Read" and I still wouldn't have complained).

What's so interesting to me about the hashtag and its popularity is that, while the exercise poked fun at the obvious stylistic pattern of the headlines, it was at the same time a nod of appreciation. That the New York Times has a style so recognizable can only be a good thing.  It calls to mind what they say about the media: there's no such thing as bad publicity. Writing style may be the same way.

I'm not suggesting some writing styles aren't subjectively (and even possibly objectively) better than others. I am, however, noticing that authors with a very distinct style tend to be more popular.  Whether you want to praise a writing style or disparage it, you are still talking about it.  It's an idea that these days, for better or for worse, seems to be even more crucial for writers to consider.  I'm not necessarily alluding to a certain book with a neutral color in its title, but if I am, I'm still giving it extra attention, so its author must be doing something right.

Unspecific Words

The age-old question of which is smaller--snack size or fun size--just got...well, just as confusing.

What kind of snake are we talking about here?  I mean, if it's threadsnake-sized, I'll take fun size, any day.  If it's boa constrictor-sized, then I'll take that.  But once we get up to anaconda-sized, I'd have to wonder whether my chocolate might try to eat me instead.

Chinese Words

In taking Chinese lessons, it's become very clear to me that I have a limited range to my voice. In English, what this means is that I am able to say sarcastic things and people have no idea whether I'm serious.  In Chinese, this means I can't pronounce the words correctly.

To properly speak Chinese, you need to clearly distinguish between the different tones (there are 4 distinct ones) in order to convey the word you're trying to say.  If you use the wrong tone, you could be saying something else completely.

This truth is causing me trouble because I don't have a natural rise and fall to my voice.  But it also makes me really curious about sarcasm in Chinese.  Do they have it?  Since the tone of voice is typically what marks it, it would seem that it's impossible to use it in a tonal language.

If that's the case, then people must be so much more sincere.  They must not be able to say, "I'm fine," in a flat tone when they really don't mean it.  They must be more honest with each other.

Then again, there are probably ways to bend the truth in every language.

Reading Words: 1Q84

1Q84
Haruki Murakami, 2011

I've never read anything by Murakami before, so I don't know if the sprawling, sometimes tedious narrative including minor characters that seem to contribute very little to the plot, repetitiveness indicating a lack of confidence in readers' attention, or fixation on breasts are trademarks of this author's style. I do know that as a writer, a reader, and a lover of parallel universes, these complaints weren't enough to ruin the story for me.  If you're any of the three, I'd suggest you give the book a try.

But what was most interesting to me as I read the book was the ever apparent truth that it was a translation.  Every time I reached a passage that didn't flow properly or a sentence that didn't quite make sense, I questioned whether it was Murakami's writing that made it so or simply a lack of proper English equivalent.  Most fascinating to me was the use of, "I wonder."  Used repeatedly as a kind of substitute (I assume) for "Hmm," or "I don't know," the phrase really grew on me by the end of the 900+ pages. When a character said something another character didn't understand or couldn't answer, he didn't shrug it off with, "I don't know."  He left it open for future discussion with, "I wonder."  I'm sure it's a result of the translator choosing the words closest to the actual Japanese expression, but I found myself asking whether our real life plots might go further if we switched to that phrase in our own conversations.  I wonder.

Surprising Words

Regardless of where you fall on the spectrum of Amazon opinions, I think you have to be at least a little impressed by a certain small press that abstains from using the retail giant.

I had never heard of Perfect Day Publishing until I read about one of its products, Love is Not Constantly Wondering If You Are Making the Biggest Mistake of Your Life, in a Slate article. From the description, I knew immediately I would buy the book.  What I didn't know was that I would get a personalized email letting me know my order would be delayed because they needed to print more books.  I also didn't know I'd get another personalized email explaining how they had to hand-weigh the packages in the shipment so they might have made a mistake on the postage to the tune of -20 cents.  I didn't know when the book arrived, my address would be hand-written, or that I would also receive a stapled copy of A Field Guide to the Aliens of Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by a 7th grader.

All of these unknowns made my experience with the publisher so much richer and more enjoyable.  I mean, I know personalized emails are not hard to create, but the care with which the sender appeared to have put together the mail merge meant something to me.  The constant updates, the free accompanying literature--those meant something, too.  Maybe it's just because it's a novelty these days to get anything other than exactly what you paid for.  Maybe I'm just a sucker for originality.  Whatever the reason, Michael Heald over at Perfect Day is doing something right in my book.

First Words

My nephew is taking his time learning to speak, so he doesn't say too much yet, though he has his own versions of lots of words--like "help," and "apple," and "birthday," which don't sound anything like the actual words and therefore can only be interpreted by his family.  But for months, he's been saying 2 things very clearly.  He says "up" out loud, and he knows how to say "more" in sign language.

Up and more.  That's all.  It doesn't seem like much, but my nephew has taught me that these words have so many shades of meaning.  You want to be closer to something, or see something?  Up.  You want to keep eating, or you want to see something funny again?  More. You want to gain the perspective of those around you?  Up.  You don't want to leave the people you're with?  More.  You just want to be held?  Up.  You just want to be loved?  More.

Up.  More.  So simple, and yet, so necessary.

He recently added "cheese" to his repertoire.  Also necessary.

Unfinished Words

Last winter/spring/summer, I collected yogurt lids in the hope of getting the right letters to win a beach vacation.  I didn't get them.  But I did end up with tons of lettered lids in my desk drawer at work.  When I left my job, I saved the lids so I could use them for an elaborate art project for my then-boyfriend.  When we broke up, I saved the lids because I couldn't bear to throw out the results of such a sustained effort toward something.  When I moved out of my apartment, I finally got rid of the lids, but first I took this picture because I didn't want the letters to have been a complete waste:

All of those letters scattered on the floor made me realize something: sometimes you have to go through a lot of wrong words before finding the right one.  And also, I ate a lot of yogurt last year.

I Like Words

You always read about people who've taken a creative, bold, and usually seemingly silly approach to getting hired and ultimately reaching their goals, and you think, Well, sure, it worked for this guy/gal, but that's the exception.  I don't really feel like an exception.  (Maybe you don't think exactly that because you don't use the word "gal," but you get the idea.)

But these days, these acts of "nonconformity," if you want to call them that, are actually so abundant that they've almost become the norm.  So why haven't I done something like it yet?  Why haven't I written a letter like this one (that, in 1934, probably was a little more unique)?

I guess it's because I feel like these ploys are gimmicky, and I shouldn't have to stoop so low as to stand out based on my tactic.  I should be successful based purely on my talent. 

Of course, there's the argument that people who come up with these tactics are obviously creative and talented.  And then also the one about who cares how you were discovered, because in the end the important thing is that you were.

Both very good arguments.

Grammatically Incorrect Words

In years past, I may have delighted in today's holiday, smug in the knowledge that even if I sometimes break grammar rules, I almost always know them.  I may have felt a little sad for the future, acknowledging that writing the possessive its with the apostrophe is becoming so common that it may soon become acceptable (I mean, I hope it doesn't, but you never know).

But this year I've decided not to gloat about the fact that I understand when to use "your" and "you're."  I've decided not to write about funny grammatical errors other have made.  Instead, I'm celebrating by remembering that, while fairly important (at least to me), proper grammar isn't everything.

Tomorrow, I will go back to making fun of people who can't distinguish between a comma and a period.  Today, I will just wish you a happy National Grammar Day.

Your Words

Sometimes I wonder if, by immediately discounting anyone who misspells obvious words, I'm missing out on something.  For example, what if this is actually the best apartment in the city?

Then I think, Do I really want to rent from someone who can't even get such a small thing right?

(The answer is no, in case there was any doubt.)