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May 10, 2011

Comments

Konstantin

So, Mark, how does this piece impact your approach to your next novel?

Andrew

From east of the Atlantic, I'd add 'gotten'.

Andrew

ps and 'backward'.

Turbo Ferbo

What's the problem with "impact" as a verb? I don't get it? Webster's has a half dozen definitions for "impact" as a verb; seems kosher to me....

ward

Deborah's "I loved being your wife tonight," at that reading where he thought the audience liked his short story is pretty sad. Having a wife whose devotion is that conditional, I mean.

Ed Bast

Yeah impact is also a verb. Nothing wrong with that sentence. TEV, can you explain?

TEV

Ward, I totally agree with you. I wouldn't bet the farm on the longeivity of that relationship. It felt unbearably chilly.

OK. Impact. Yes, the dictionary allows the use of impact as a verb. But the dictionary also allows alright as one word, which people of a certain age still find hideous. I have no issue with impacted being use to describe, say, wisdom teeth - i.e., pressed up firmly against. But to use it in the transitive sense of having an effect on something is the ugliest kind of corporate sales jargon speak. It's fine, I suppose, at a board meeting but it has no place among people who care about words.

But like I said, I'm a certain age, and all.

Shelley

If you've had one novel published, then you've won the game for all time.

A second one is just frosting.

melbournegirl

I agree about the use of 'impact' as a verb - it is similar to using 'ask' as a noun. In Australian Rules football, the word 'goal' is frequently used as a verb as well - as in 'he goals!' It sets my (non-impacted) teeth on edge.

Andrew Blackman

I felt a lot of pressure writing my second novel (just finished!). The first one was easy - I never really thought it would be published, so was able to write with freedom. With the second, I had an audience in my mind all the time, and I don't think that's a good thing. Still, it turned out better in the end (in my opinion) - but it needed a lot more work to get it to that point.

By the way "impact" as a verb sounds fine to me if you're a sales manager delivering a Powerpoint presentation, but not if you're a novelist writing about your latest book. I suppose the English language has always changed, but I think it says a lot about us that our language is being shaped not by writers and philosophers but by corporate jargon.

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TEV DEFINED


  • The Elegant Variation is "Fowler’s (1926, 1965) term for the inept writer’s overstrained efforts at freshness or vividness of expression. Prose guilty of elegant variation calls attention to itself and doesn’t permit its ideas to seem naturally clear. It typically seeks fancy new words for familiar things, and it scrambles for synonyms in order to avoid at all costs repeating a word, even though repetition might be the natural, normal thing to do: The audience had a certain bovine placidity, instead of The audience was as placid as cows. Elegant variation is often the rock, and a stereotype, a cliché, or a tired metaphor the hard place between which inexperienced or foolish writers come to grief. The familiar middle ground in treating these homely topics is almost always the safest. In untrained or unrestrained hands, a thesaurus can be dangerous."

SECOND LOOK

  • The Bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald

    Bs

    Penelope Fitzgerald's second novel is the tale of Florence Green, a widow who seeks, in the late 1950s, to bring a bookstore to an isolated British town, encountering all manner of obstacles, including incompetent builders, vindictive gentry, small minded bankers, an irritable poltergeist, but, above all, a town that might not, in fact, want a bookshop. Fitzgerald's prose is spare but evocative – there's no wasted effort and her work reminds one of Hemingway's dictum that every word should fight for its right to be on the page. Florence is an engaging creation, stubbornly committed to her plan even as uncertainty regarding the wisdom of the enterprise gnaws at her. But The Bookshop concerns itself, finally, with the astonishing vindictiveness of which provincials are capable, and, as so much English fiction must, it grapples with the inevitabilities of class. It's a dense marvel at 123 pages, a book you won't want to – or be able to – rush through.
  • The Rider by Tim Krabbe

    Rider_4

    Tim Krabbé's superb 1978 memoir-cum-novel is the single best book we've read about cycling, a book that will come closer to bringing you inside a grueling road race than anything else out there. A kilometer-by-kilometer look at just what is required to endure some of the most grueling terrain in the world, Krabbé explains the tactics, the choices and – above all – the grinding, endless, excruciating pain that every cyclist faces and makes it heart-pounding rather than expository or tedious. No writer has better captured both the agony and the determination to ride through the agony. He's an elegant stylist (ably served by Sam Garrett's fine translation) and The Rider manages to be that rarest hybrid – an authentic, accurate book about cycling that's a pleasure to read. "Non-racers," he writes. "The emptiness of those lives shocks me."