Figures of speech
Figures of speech
As one of the articles in this issue deals with the English Language Fair held at the Barbican Centre last autumn, this might be a good opportunity to concentrate on varieties of English style. Let's start with the use of imagery.
The passage chosen for comment comes from The Guardian, a newspaper famous or notorious for its misprints as well as for the depth and seriousness of its new coverage. If the name of the writer, Roy Hattersley, seems familiar - yes, it’s the same man as the prominent politician. As well as being a contributor to the humorous magazine Punch, Mr Hattersley writes a regular feature for the Guardian. This example is entitled ‘Chipping Away at Graven Images’.
I have been struck down by an attack of virulent images - not the sort which flash across eyes or through brains at point of death, crisis and dementia, but the literary type which is first read or heard and then buzzes about around the head like a moth caught inside a lamp shade. My trauma began with the receipt of The Book of Similes, an anthology written in partnership by the author of Police Powers and Politics and a lady who according to the flyleaf once worked in the North Sea diving industry. Thanks to their eclectic experience they have managed to collect an astonishing number of images which have absolutely no meaning whatsoever.
Raymond Chandler is one of the most prominent contributors. The common factor which unites all Mr Chandler’s images is that none of them makes the slightest contribution to the perception or appreciation of the object or condition which they claim to illuminate. “A hangover like 12 Swedes” had meaning only to experts on the morals and mores of Scandinavia. “Invulnerable as my great-great-grandfather” conveys nothing to those who do not enjoy a long and intimate acquaintance with the Chandler family. Gaudy as a chiropractor’s chart is probably a misprint. Gay as a “superannuated street walker” is better not analysed. “Flustered
As one of the articles in this issue deals with the English Language Fair held at the Barbican Centre last autumn, this might be a good opportunity to concentrate on varieties of English style. Let's start with the use of imagery.
The passage chosen for comment comes from The Guardian, a newspaper famous or notorious for its misprints as well as for the depth and seriousness of its new coverage. If the name of the writer, Roy Hattersley, seems familiar - yes, it’s the same man as the prominent politician. As well as being a contributor to the humorous magazine Punch, Mr Hattersley writes a regular feature for the Guardian. This example is entitled ‘Chipping Away at Graven Images’.
I have been struck down by an attack of virulent images - not the sort which flash across eyes or through brains at point of death, crisis and dementia, but the literary type which is first read or heard and then buzzes about around the head like a moth caught inside a lamp shade. My trauma began with the receipt of The Book of Similes, an anthology written in partnership by the author of Police Powers and Politics and a lady who according to the flyleaf once worked in the North Sea diving industry. Thanks to their eclectic experience they have managed to collect an astonishing number of images which have absolutely no meaning whatsoever.
Raymond Chandler is one of the most prominent contributors. The common factor which unites all Mr Chandler’s images is that none of them makes the slightest contribution to the perception or appreciation of the object or condition which they claim to illuminate. “A hangover like 12 Swedes” had meaning only to experts on the morals and mores of Scandinavia. “Invulnerable as my great-great-grandfather” conveys nothing to those who do not enjoy a long and intimate acquaintance with the Chandler family. Gaudy as a chiropractor’s chart is probably a misprint. Gay as a “superannuated street walker” is better not analysed. “Flustered