Words and Phrases That Make My Teeth Ache

Each of us overuses certain words in our speech or writing. We have traits we learned as a tyke or adopted later in life that help define who we are. They are as much a part of us as our hair style. In other words, we can change these word patterns if we choose, but it takes effort.

When I listen to people converse, I react to incorrect usage such as “Me and him went to the mall and…” the same way other people respond to chalk squeaks: it hurts so much I cringe. Of course it seems like only yesterday that I remember my grandparents yelling at the TV, “Winston tastes good AS a cigarette should.”

Language changes, but we tend to stick with those verbal mannerisms we learned growing up. To the careful listener these verbal tics come through regardless of later veneers. I don’t mean to say we don’t add new flourishes or that our vocabulary is frozen. (Although I’d be willing to bet it doesn’t grow much after schooling stops.)

I once sat on a barstool next to an expert in speech patterns. After talking with me for a while, he announced I had grown up in Upstate New York, lived a short time in the northern South (Virginia or North Carolina, say) and currently lived in the northeast New Jersey. Good thing I didn’t bet him. I grew up in the Rochester, NY area, spent second and third grades in Blacksburg, Virginia and was then living in Bergen County, New Jersey—it’s most northeastern county.

When I go back to Rochester, they talk with an accent highlighted by nasal a’s. My father has a tape of me drawling the Cub Scout pledge in third grade. In Bergen County, they do funny things with their r’s. I don’t know how this guy could be so accurate because I don’t sound like any of those places—but I guess to a trained ear, I do.

What is the value of listening for these telltale words, phrases or accents? Skillful writers drop them as verbal clues to characterization. I love it when an author grounds me with these little details.

Laura Lippman sets her novels in Baltimore (which native speakers pronounce as though there were no second syllable ) and has her characters say things like, “Joe was police before he passed the bar exam.” Not “Joe worked for the police,” or “Joe was a policeman.” In that region, Joe was police.

If I wanted to show a stuffy, erudite pundit, I’d have him sound like the late William F. Buckley, Jr. (although I’d need a thesaurus to do it). Low education: small vocabulary and improper grammar (no thesaurus necessary, but my teeth may ache). In one of my novels I have a minor character who never swears or uses contractions. No sh—I mean, no kidding.

How about you? Any examples from books you’ve read recently or works you’ve written?

~ Jim