The Sound on the Page: Great Writers Talk about Style and Voice in Writing

For Ben Yagoda, writing is something spiritual, such that when it is done well, it deserves to be regarded with reverence. At the same time, he is unafraid of getting into the nitty-gritty of stylistic questions, such as: What precisely makes this paragraph, this sentence, this word better than that? Among his stimulating and provocative suggestions: "I am convinced that there is only one specific, consistently reliable tip writers in training can be given: read your stuff aloud, if not literally, then with an inner voice attended to by the inner ear" (pg. 36). "In the course of writing this book, I have found that because it forces you to slow down, simply copying a passage is a great way – much better than mere reading – of internalizing an author's sensibility and cadences" (pg. 229). I would add that while copying is excellent if you want to learn about an author's style from the inside, as it were, the advice about reading your own stuff aloud should be taken quite literally, for when it comes to a text to be presented orally, the inner ear alone is not enough. Read it aloud and, without stopping, take careful note of exactly where your tongue trips you up. Those are the passages that need to be worked on.Rather than simply pontificate about how one should write, Yagoda had the bright idea of first consulting the experts, and so decided to "identify some writers with a strong style, seek them out, and ask them questions" (pg. xxvii). The result is a book that, whatever else it may be, is also a collection of provocative observations, beginning with the ancients but concentrating mainly on contemporary writers. Along the way he writes perceptively about Hemingway's "strategic plainness," saying that it "has many of the characteristics of speech but doesn't really emulate it" (pg. 57).In the end, this book succeeds largely because of the quality and range of the authors he interviewed. Somehow he managed to persuade them to open up about their likes and dislikes, about who influenced and inspired them, resulting in an anthology of their ruminations. In the process he elicited a remarkable confession from John Updike: "In general I am comfortable" (pg. 164), a tossed-out remark which to me says a lot about this particular author and his smugness.Nor does he restrict himself to representatives of high literary art – he can interview a humorist like Dave Barry, comment on the "middle style" of Oliver Sacks, or select the "mot juste" from an opinion by Supreme Court Justice Stephen Breyer, and do so in a humorous, not-at-all pedantic way, which is tougher than it sounds. (It's a shame he did not talk to any screenplay authors – an omission he partially corrects in his subsequent book, "The Parts of Speech").Yagoda also takes full advantage of the circumstance that he happened to be present at a transitional moment in the history of writing: the shift from typewriting to word-processing, which will leave future historians with many fewer first drafts to look at. By the same token, the transition from telephoning to e-mailing means these same historians may well have much more written ephemera to work with.Though many of his assertions are thought provoking, the effect is marred at times by his tendency to highlight his own style, in the process quoting – by way of illustration – from sentences of his we have just read. And though he admits to past stylistic sinning, most of the personal examples he provides are meant as object lessons in How to Write Well. He criticizes self-indulgence – in others. When it comes to his own prose, he cannot forbear pointing out where he has refrained from self-indulgence. We would regard him somewhat more, perhaps, if he did not demonstrate such regard himself.If one is going to talk about good style, obviously one has to mention the bad as well. Here it must be said Yagoda picks some rather easy targets. Who reads – or has even heard of – Charles Doughty or Henry Green? Everyone has heard of Gertrude Stein and Samuel Beckett, of course, but they are safely dead and gone. Cynthia Ozick confesses her dislike of Hemingway, and James Wolcott criticizes other writers without naming any of them. Only Martin Amis happily hands out flunking grades to scribblers left and right. Surely Yagoda must have his own living candidates for the academy of the overrated, but except for potshots at the likes of Michael Crichton and John Grisham, he never targets a widely esteemed contemporary. Between these covers, almost all the writers are above average.All except William Strunk and E.B. White, that is. They are subjected to criticism as relentless as it is unjust. To repeat what others have already pointed out, Yagoda misconstrues the purpose of Strunk and White's "The Elements of Style" in order to make it serve as his punching bag. In the process he overlooks a key word in its title: These are the "elements" of style, the basic building blocks that an inexperienced writer needs, not tips on how to polish your unique, personal way with prose. "Elements" is meant for novices who first have to purge their bad habits before they can develop their own voice. The work's genesis is instructive here: It was conceived decades ago as a handbook for American undergraduates who had not received proper instruction in high school. So of course it was never meant for the established writer. Incidentally, Yagoda does find an ally of sorts in Harold Bloom, author of a self-described "eight-hundred-page monster" – modestly entitled "Genius" – that does not have a single paragraph that could "pass muster in Strunk and White" (pg. xxi). If a learned gasbag like Bloom disapproves, what further recommendation does one need for their slim volume?In sum, this book is definitely worth adding to your private library. Put it on the shelf right next to Strunk and White.

This is a book that examines the great variety of writing styles from a myriad wonderful writers. But Yagoda reminds us that although ‘style’ is a word borne from the Latin ‘stilus’, a writing instrument, the Greeks who were the inventors of style, conceived of it not as writing but as oratory. Yagoda focusses on delivery and, hence, the title of the book, ‘The Sound on the Page’. But, he says, ‘Voice is the most popular metaphor for writing style, but an equally suggestive one may be delivery or presentation, as it includes body language, facial expression, stance, and other qualities that set speakers apart from one another.’ On the other hand, Yagoda also explores the speech-based styles of writers such as Jamaica Kincaid, to whom speaking is more about listening, and who is ‘always writing in my head’. In discovering style and creating one’s own, we are reminded that ‘Genuine style is the living body of thought, not a costume that can be put on and off’, and thus it must be sincere and truly expresses the author’s thoughts if they are to be regarded as his ‘style’. As James Wolcott said of people who talk as pretentiously as they write, ‘You’ll think, “Oh my God, they’ve convinced themselves.”’ Yagoda explains the importance of rhythm. Citing H L Fowler, he says that ‘in a really good writer every sentence is rhythmical’ whereas bad ones ‘offend or puzzle the ear’. Yet, rhythm is just one of the innumerable gems of writing that Yagoda introduces (or reintroduce) us to in this book. The one regret, perhaps, is the omission of Fernando Pessoa who would have shone a bright light on style and the individual; for Pessoa wrote mostly through the heteronym – he had as many as 80 heteronyms. He even had one of his heteronyms (Alvaro de Campos) write: ‘Fernando Pessoa, strictly speaking, does not exist’. Pessoa is a poet, and this book is mainly about prose; but neither poetry nor online writing is completely omitted. And he has saved the best (poetry) and the worst (online writing), appropriately for the last. Let us hope that we can distinguish the self-indulgence in online writing from that in poetry. Perhaps we can let the last word go to Virginia Woolf, who wrote, ‘Style is a very simple matter; it is all rhythm. Once you get that, you can’t use the wrong word.’

A lot of space on this page has been devoted to defending  The Elements of Style Illustrated  against Yagoda's abrupt dismissal. Fair enough. Anyone who's ever read undergraduate prose in the days before the kids just copied it all from the 'net has to acknowledge that clarity and simplicity are the foundations of expression. If it ain't clear, it ain't stylish.But Yagoda doesn't seem to be denying this obvious truth. He is simply saying that obeying the rigors of S&W is not the same as style in the sense that the word applies to our best writers.*S&W talk about what makes style possible for any writer.*Yagoda talks about the nature of style itself after the brush has been cleared, the foundation laid and all the unnecessary metaphors put away.That said, this is a delightful and provocative book. It suffers, as any book on literary style must, from the necessity of using its subject matter as the means of its own discussion. That is, the style of a book about style is bound to be a little strained. (See  Insights and Illusions of Philosophy  for both explanation and evidence.)The best use for this charming book is in forcing the reader's attention to words and style. The most horrific part is that it forces a writer's attention to his own words and style. It's nourishment for the former, medicine for the latter who would be well-advised to take small doses and continue writing.--Lynn Hoffman, author of  New Short Course in Wine,The  andthe slightly stylish  bang BANG: A Novel

There are not many books on what turns mere writing into something distinct that you can recognize its style. This is one of the better ones.