The House of Grammar Part 10: A Fistful of The House of Grammar

It's been a couple of weeks since I last posted, a delay primarily caused by to being busy with work, as well as by sheer procrastination. Yeah, okay, I should apologize for that, but how many people are actually actively checking this daily? That's right, I'm deflecting blame back on you, the audience. Shame. (please come back!)

I want to take today to talk about a very real problem for any writer, or any person with a broad enough vocabulary that choosing the right word is an exercise in gauging the subtle differences between, for example, "camouflage" and "obfuscate". Anyone who understands that struggle knows I'm talking to them.  Yes, you. You have a problem. I have a problem. And it's a problem we need to talk about.

It can be summed up in one word: (Ooh, a paragraph break. How novel!) That word is Synathroesmus.

A few posts back I used this word and told you to look it up. Well, you probably didn't, thinking I was either lying, or not caring enough about whether I was lying to bother. I'm here to tell you it's a real word, and a real problem. Synathroesmus is, for explanation's sake, the piling on of adjectives, typically for the sake of invective.

I, like many, find myself burdened with this problem. It may not seem like a problem to some, but that's because to those people the word "shame" is as good as "chagrin" or "rousing" as good as "inflammatory". It's a problem for anyone who is trying to apply their vocabulary in day to day conversation, usually with people no less intelligent than themselves but perhaps with a lesser or looser understanding of the English language. In most circumstances we are able to apply a filter between our brain and our mouth, but in the wrong circumstances, like a heated debate or a subject about which we are passionate, synathroesmus rises to the surface to capsize the hull of our otherwise solidly keeled statements.

I will give you an example. Let's say I want to explain that something is "gross" but I want to do so in a way that leaves no doubt, because to me it is so utterly abhorrent that I MUST get my point across. In thinking the word gross I immediately have several adjectives at my disposal: Foetid. Feculent. Disgusting. Abhorrent. Abominable. Bilious. Foul. Well when my mind gets to "foul" I immediately start thinking of birds. Duck. Eagle. Chickadee. Robin. Wren. Sparrow. Chicken. At chicken I leap to "Coward." Yellow-Belly. Wuss. Pussy. Wimp. Traitor. Craven... And this keeps happening. And at each branch of words I am still thinking about appropriate adjectives based on my first train of thought, and each subsequent branching train of thought, until I suddenly have a list of 60-70 words rattling through my head from which, reasonably, I should pick the most appropriate adjective to apply. Only I can't. Because in the microseconds I've had to come up with this list my mouth has already started snagging words and spitting them out because it's so caught up in the passion of the moment that it can't wait for the person I'm talking to to poke me in the forehead because I've suddenly frozen up like a rusty tin-man in mid-sentence and ask me if I'm okay. No. It's continuing the conversation without my consent, gleefully snagging words out of the aether and suddenly I'm spitting out a phrase like: "Canteloupe is the most vile, bilious, eagle, knave, shower, pants melon ever conceived by God!" (although usually my automatic filters will omit the purely ridiculous adjectives or only apply ones I'm sure my audience doesn't know the meaning of anyway, even if they're vastly inapplicable.)

Most of my friends will agree that's probably a statement I've actually made at one time or another.

Now you question why this is a problem. Well, when it comes to writing, as my mother would probably say, "less is more." Though I disagree with her on the specifics I know I am guilty of using synathroesmus when otherwise I cannot find the right and proper word to explain what I mean or evoke the right emotion and find myself using many adjectives instead in an attempt to bludgeon my point into the audience's skull. This is clumsy and unwieldy and ultimately a recipe for failure, but when you're in the midst of writing something you love it's often difficult to just stop the flow and wait until the right word comes. You have to get the words out. You have to get the page, or the chapter, or the novel finished, and you can't be bothered with finesse. Your audience will get your point if you just hammer it out.

I'm here to tell you that's not true.

Living with D is an exercise in analyzing my own day to day vocabulary. I find that half the time I use a word that I understand on a level so far past conscious thought that when she asks me "what does that mean?" I have to pause and actually think about it. When I do this I often come to the conclusion that I don't actually know.

Do it yourself. How many words do you know how to use, but actually know the meaning of? For me, a lot of my vocabulary boils down into how the words interrelate. Effectively, this means that much of my vocabulary I understand because of other words that are essentially similar.

That's like understanding the word "run" because of the adjectives people use to describe it, like "hard," "long," or "sweaty." And yes, the same adjectives can be used, in many circumstances, to describe "penis" as well.

You see the problem?

Synathroesmus is something that any writer should be careful of, not because it in and of itself an ineffective tool but because it can be symptomatic of a more critical failing: a lack of understanding of the adjectives themselves being used. If more time was spent trying to find the appropriate word to fit the intended meaning, and given the breadth of the English language this is almost always possible, how can one perfect word in almost every circumstance not be better than five adequate ones?

It a crutch at best, and a bad one, especially if not used sparingly, as it also speaks to a clumsiness in the writer's thought processes, and if used frequently, actually loses any impact it might have once had if used sparingly. Imagine if you will if V's "V" speech in "V for Vendetta" had not been a paragraph, but if every word of dialogue in the movie had started with V. It's the same thing with synathroesmus. When used at the right time it can be a powerful tool to emphasize a point. When used too often it feels lazy and heavy handed.

I'm the first (well, second, behind my mom) to admit that I am guilty of everything I've said above. Including calling a penis sweaty.

But they say admitting a problem is the first step, so here's my admission. I'm a filthy, dirty, grime-encrusted, sooty, scabrous, vermin-infested, rabid, disease-bearing synathroesmus user. I have a problem.

I'd like to hear from anyone else who has it too.