When the Words Sing (by Connie Berry)

Copyright Dave Coverly. Used With Permission

I adore Dave Coverly's humor, and this is one of my favorite cartoons. 

Every book in English is made up of words most of us know. But it's the way the words are arranged that makes the difference. We've all had the experience—reading along in a book when suddenly an exquisite sentence or passage zings in your brain and grabs you by the heart. Some passages are beautiful because of the images they conjure; others because of their lyricism. The best combine both qualities. Here's one of my favorites:

Miss Bellringer settled herself in the chair that Sergeant Troy drew forward and rearranged her draperies. She was a wondrous sight, festooned rather than dressed. All her clothes had a dim but vibrant sheen as if they had once, long ago, been richly embroidered. She wore several very beautiful rings, the gems dulled by dirt. Her nails were dirty too. Her eyes moved all the time, glittering in a brown seamed face. She looked like a tattered eagle.

—The Killings at Badger's Drift by Caroline Graham

Did you notice how Graham varies the pace and length of her sentences, ending on that wonderful six-word statement to deliver the final image? The rhythm and pace of language creates an atmosphere. Long, smooth sentences slow the mood down. Short, punchy sentences speed things up. Here's another example. Notice how the author uses rhythm, the ebb and flow of language, to create atmosphere.

When she opens the bedroom window, the noise of the airplanes becomes louder. Otherwise, the night is dreadfully silent: no engines, no voices, no clatter. No sirens. No footfalls on the cobbles. Not even gulls. Just a high tide, one block away and six stories
below, lapping at the base of the city walls.

            And something else.
            Something rattling softly, very close.

            —All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

The rhythm of language is part of what writers call voice.

The English language has a natural rhythm. So does every language, which is partly why I love German with those long, drawn-out sentences that tail off, clackity-clackity, to the end. The most important part of writing dialect isn't getting the words right so much as getting the rhythm right. 

One of my professors in graduate school, an expert in seventeenth-century English poetry, claimed that the natural rhythm of English is iambic pentameter—the language of poetry, the language of song. Years ago I read that the most beautiful sentence ever written in English comes from the book of Isaiah: 

In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lifted up, and the train of His robe filled the temple [Isaiah 6:1; NKJV]

The most beautiful anything (baby, flower, sunset, landscape) is obviously a matter of personal taste, but that sentence sings to me. 

I was fascinated to read an article on the rhythm of language in the latest issue of Writers Digest magazine ["Poetic Thinking: Writing in Rhythm" by Barbara Baig. September 2019)] It's a bit technical and definitely worth reading, but most of us—writers and readers—know lovely writing by ear. When the words sing to us.

Do you have a favorite sentence or passage that sings to you? How do you use rhythm in your writing?