Diving into a Sentence
So, the other day I started rereading The Great Gatsby. It's a great book and all and I am enjoying it as much as I did the first time, but I noticed something that I didn't notice the first time. F. Scott Fitzgerald writes really complicated sentences.
Point out the obvious much?
I mean, Fitzgerald doesn't just write a sentence; he writes a little adjective filled, adverb flavored pie with a thin, flaky verb crust on top. He writes a sentence like he's riding a stampeding wildebeest in the Lion King: very carefully. Because writing a sentence can be a dangerous thing. I mean, you don't know how dangerous a semi-colon can be until you misuse one and suddenly it's punching you in the stomach while a pair of quotation marks hold you down.
However, reading a sentence can be just as hazardous. As an English major, I'm used to complicated sentences, but that doesn't change the fact that every time you read a sentence, you are diving into that sentence.
A sentence is a little agreement between the reader and the writer. That period at the end of a sentence says that 'yes, this collection of words contains at least one subject and one verb and imparts some nugget of wisdom'. It's a little piece of sugar coated, candy wrapped knowledge such as Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus - never tickle a sleeping dragon. That, my friends, is an excellent sentence.
Reading a sentence is like trying to touch the bottom of a swimming pool. You have an idea of where the bottom is when you jump in, but, if you jump in thinking that a the bottom is twenty feet down and it's actually forty feet down, you end up swallowing a whole bunch of chlorine and a comma ends up having to give you mouth to mouth resuscitation.
It's not a big deal when you're reading silently; if the sentence takes an unexpected turn, you can just go back to the beginning and read it again. But if you're reading out loud and you can't find the bottom of the pool, you choke on water and get bubbles up your nose and drown and die! I mean, you need to know what's coming in a sentence; if there's a verb where you expected an adjective, that verb might very well steal your wallet. Once you read a lot of books written in the same style, you get used to the sentence structure and know what to expect. The trouble is, I have trouble anticipating where a sentence is going in The Great Gatsby.
That's not something that happens to me often when I'm reading and I have to say that I kind of like it. It puts some of the adrenaline rush back into reading. I mean, who knows what's going to be around the next comma, it could be a consonant with a cudgels or a vowel with a Valium. You never know; it's an adventure!
Who knows, maybe the next time I open the book a wildebeest will come charging out with a wiffle ball. Who says reading isn't a sport.
Just sayin'
Point out the obvious much?
I mean, Fitzgerald doesn't just write a sentence; he writes a little adjective filled, adverb flavored pie with a thin, flaky verb crust on top. He writes a sentence like he's riding a stampeding wildebeest in the Lion King: very carefully. Because writing a sentence can be a dangerous thing. I mean, you don't know how dangerous a semi-colon can be until you misuse one and suddenly it's punching you in the stomach while a pair of quotation marks hold you down.
However, reading a sentence can be just as hazardous. As an English major, I'm used to complicated sentences, but that doesn't change the fact that every time you read a sentence, you are diving into that sentence.
A sentence is a little agreement between the reader and the writer. That period at the end of a sentence says that 'yes, this collection of words contains at least one subject and one verb and imparts some nugget of wisdom'. It's a little piece of sugar coated, candy wrapped knowledge such as Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus - never tickle a sleeping dragon. That, my friends, is an excellent sentence.
Reading a sentence is like trying to touch the bottom of a swimming pool. You have an idea of where the bottom is when you jump in, but, if you jump in thinking that a the bottom is twenty feet down and it's actually forty feet down, you end up swallowing a whole bunch of chlorine and a comma ends up having to give you mouth to mouth resuscitation.
It's not a big deal when you're reading silently; if the sentence takes an unexpected turn, you can just go back to the beginning and read it again. But if you're reading out loud and you can't find the bottom of the pool, you choke on water and get bubbles up your nose and drown and die! I mean, you need to know what's coming in a sentence; if there's a verb where you expected an adjective, that verb might very well steal your wallet. Once you read a lot of books written in the same style, you get used to the sentence structure and know what to expect. The trouble is, I have trouble anticipating where a sentence is going in The Great Gatsby.
That's not something that happens to me often when I'm reading and I have to say that I kind of like it. It puts some of the adrenaline rush back into reading. I mean, who knows what's going to be around the next comma, it could be a consonant with a cudgels or a vowel with a Valium. You never know; it's an adventure!
Who knows, maybe the next time I open the book a wildebeest will come charging out with a wiffle ball. Who says reading isn't a sport.
Just sayin'
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