SENTENCE STRUCTURE
Posted: August 5th, 2010, 9:02 pm
How much time do you spend thinking about sentence structure when you're writing? I confess I spend a lot. I can spend an hour considering the right words and form for one sentence.
Here's a favorite sentence of mine from a short story "From Beautiful People" by Kenneth Hunt. I love it because it is long but clear and because it echoes the emotional state of the boy, it builds and builds to a climax. It serves more than one purpose in the story. All one sentence:
Troy hated his body, and the cot too, and as he lay there with his eyes open, seeing nothing but darkness, he felt the cold of the basement penetrating his blanket and he hated that too, and slowly his hate expanded outwards, it engulfed his aunt, hating her snoring and her madness and her sloth, and her going on living, living, when she didn't deserve to, when she added nothing to the universe, and his hate crept up the stairs which would surely fall down during the night, trapping them, and it expanded into the house, and as it rolled from the back to the front, he found that lying there in the cot below he could hate every inch of it equally and perfectly; it was destined for decline, abandonment, and ultimate collapse, as was everything that entered it, and his hate spilled into the porch, but it wasn't trapped; it managed to flow out the front door, make a leap into the world, where it sought out his father and found him across the country in a small apartment with another woman and another child, and it was easy to hate them all; his hate could even expand to the edge of the sea and then beyond, across to Scandinavia and the beautiful people, for what had beauty ever given them; it was worthless, worthless, and his hate continued, gaining speed, and from his cot he could hate every inch of the solar system, with its clockwork motions and its beautiful things that no one will ever see, except in books; it seemed cruel that it should go on being such an amazing place and yet remain so far out of reach; it should have the decency to remain unknown instead of creating a longing to visit it, a longing that could never, never be fulfilled, and his hate kept on expanding outward, even still, until he found he could hate his mother, hate her for not being stronger, hate her for getting cancer, for not fighting harder, for abandoning him to his aunt, and then his hate was a natural force, filling every space in creation, stronger than gravity, and as tears started coming, he felt that his hate would go on expanding, expanding, racing away from him, exploring the universe, finding new civilizations to hate, for they were sure to be beautiful and worthless, and this is when his hate burst and collapsed on itself and he was asleep.
And here's another sentence from Ernest Hemingway's "Big Two-Hearted River" Steven King says it's one of his favorite sentences in his "On Writing".
The river was there.
In order to appreciate the sentence it helps to have some background. A soldier returns to a town he had known, searches for something familiar but everything has been destroyed in the war, then he goes to the river. Rather than go into a big description of the river, Hemingway kept it simple and the emotional impact is far greater because of his choice. But then again, he was brilliant.
When you're writing/revising how much do you consider the emotional impact your sentences carry and not just whether or not you are using variety in your sentence structure?
, "
Here's a favorite sentence of mine from a short story "From Beautiful People" by Kenneth Hunt. I love it because it is long but clear and because it echoes the emotional state of the boy, it builds and builds to a climax. It serves more than one purpose in the story. All one sentence:
Troy hated his body, and the cot too, and as he lay there with his eyes open, seeing nothing but darkness, he felt the cold of the basement penetrating his blanket and he hated that too, and slowly his hate expanded outwards, it engulfed his aunt, hating her snoring and her madness and her sloth, and her going on living, living, when she didn't deserve to, when she added nothing to the universe, and his hate crept up the stairs which would surely fall down during the night, trapping them, and it expanded into the house, and as it rolled from the back to the front, he found that lying there in the cot below he could hate every inch of it equally and perfectly; it was destined for decline, abandonment, and ultimate collapse, as was everything that entered it, and his hate spilled into the porch, but it wasn't trapped; it managed to flow out the front door, make a leap into the world, where it sought out his father and found him across the country in a small apartment with another woman and another child, and it was easy to hate them all; his hate could even expand to the edge of the sea and then beyond, across to Scandinavia and the beautiful people, for what had beauty ever given them; it was worthless, worthless, and his hate continued, gaining speed, and from his cot he could hate every inch of the solar system, with its clockwork motions and its beautiful things that no one will ever see, except in books; it seemed cruel that it should go on being such an amazing place and yet remain so far out of reach; it should have the decency to remain unknown instead of creating a longing to visit it, a longing that could never, never be fulfilled, and his hate kept on expanding outward, even still, until he found he could hate his mother, hate her for not being stronger, hate her for getting cancer, for not fighting harder, for abandoning him to his aunt, and then his hate was a natural force, filling every space in creation, stronger than gravity, and as tears started coming, he felt that his hate would go on expanding, expanding, racing away from him, exploring the universe, finding new civilizations to hate, for they were sure to be beautiful and worthless, and this is when his hate burst and collapsed on itself and he was asleep.
And here's another sentence from Ernest Hemingway's "Big Two-Hearted River" Steven King says it's one of his favorite sentences in his "On Writing".
The river was there.
In order to appreciate the sentence it helps to have some background. A soldier returns to a town he had known, searches for something familiar but everything has been destroyed in the war, then he goes to the river. Rather than go into a big description of the river, Hemingway kept it simple and the emotional impact is far greater because of his choice. But then again, he was brilliant.
When you're writing/revising how much do you consider the emotional impact your sentences carry and not just whether or not you are using variety in your sentence structure?
, "