Cathy Day, in a post over at The Bird Sisters, suggests that if you’re a writer who loves words and books and literature and all things literary, well, for heaven’s sake, stop whining about how hard it is to get published and start creating or at least contributing to a literary culture. After all, the more people who value books and good words, the more people who will pay money for said books and good words.
Now, I don’t want to bore people, but the truth of the matter is, certain sentences make me salivate they’re so good—sometimes because they’re funny or witty; other times because they’re vivid or beautiful; and still other times simply because they are superbly well-crafted.
So, in the spirit of Ms. Day’s post, I’m going to share with you several delightful sentences I’ve read in the past week.
Today’s Most Awesome Sentence comes from The Two Towers by J.R.R. Tolkien:
But still she [Shelob] was there, who was there before Sauron, and before the first stone of Barad-dur; and she served none but herself, drinking the blood of Elves and Men, bloated and grown fat with endless brooding on her feasts, weaving webs of shadow; for all living things were her food, and her vomit darkness.”
Um, wow. Just wow.
Over the weekend I read this gem from Amazing Grace: William Wilberforce and the Heroic Campaign to End Slavery by Eric Metaxas (this is the first sentence of a caption under a painting of Lord Frederick North):
An embattled, spheroidal figure, pictured here before achieving final circumference, North led Britain’s hard-line approach toward the American colonies and is chiefly known as the man who lost them.”
If you didn’t laugh at that sentence, you weren’t reading closely enough. Try again.
Metaxas’s sentence reminded me of a paragraph from A Damsel in Distress by P.G. Wodehouse that always makes me laugh, so of course, I had to break out the book and re-read this passage:
Whatever may be said of the possibility of love at first sight, in which theory George was now a confirmed believer, there can be no doubt that an exactly opposite phenomenon is of frequent occurrence. After one look at some people, even friendship is impossible.
Such a one, in George’s opinion, was this gurgling excrescence underneath the silk hat. He comprised in his single person practically all the qualities which George disliked most. He was, for a young man, extraordinarily obese. Already a second edition of his chin had been published…He wore a little moustache, which to George’s prejudiced eye seemed more a complaint than a moustache. His face was red, his manner dictatorial, and he was touched in the wind.”
That chin bit slays me every time.
Jane asked her Papa and Pita, who were here for a visit, to read Winnie-the-Pooh to her. (That’s the A.A. Milne version, in case there was any question, which there shouldn’t be. The Disneyfied books ought to be drowned and put out of their pedantic and poorly-written misery.) My parents didn’t get to finish the book before they left, so I had the pleasure of reading the last few stories with Jane, including this delightful sentence which follows a whole round of hushing during Christopher Robin’s Expotition to the North Pole:
“And the last and smallest friend-and-relation was so upset to find that the whole Expotition was saying “Hush!” to him, that he buried himself head downwards in a crack in the ground, and stayed there for two days until the danger was over, and then went home in a great hurry, and lived quietly with his Aunt ever-afterwards. His name was Alexander Beetle.”
And that’s the first—and the last—we hear of Alexander Beetle, though it’s clear he’s an important personage and will someday have his own TV spinoff. Seriously, A.A. Milne should be taught in college. The man can write.
Finally, here are the last two sentences from chapter 5 of The Milly-Molly-Mandy Storybook by Joyce Lankester Brisley, in which Milly-Molly-Mandy goes to a party and exchanges the prize she won (which she doesn’t want) for the booby prize, a little white cotton-wool rabbit with sad black eyes (which she desperately wants):
So Milly-Molly-Mandy and the booby rabbit went home together to the nice white cottage with the thatched roof, and Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty all liked the booby rabbit very much indeed.
And do you know, one day one of his little bead eyes dropped off, and when Mother had stuck it on again with a dab of glue, his eyes didn’t look a bit sad any more, but almost as happy as Milly-Molly-Mandy’s own!”
The cadences of this book’s sentences make my heart happy.
And just for the record: I happily and heartily recommend to anyone and everyone any and all of the books from which I have extracted these superlative sentences.
Viva la literatura!
(Special thanks to Tania Runyan for pointing me in Ms. Day’s direction.)
This is delightful, Kimberlee.
Here’s one of my favorite of A.A. Milne’s from In Which Piglet Does a Very Grand Thing. It’s actually two sentences: “The clock slithered gently along the mantelpiece, collecting vases on the way, until they all crashed together on to what had once been the floor, but was not trying to see what it looked like as a wall. Uncle Robert, who was going to be the new hearthrug, and was bringing the rest of his wall with him as carpet, met Piglet’s chair just as Piglet was expecting to leave it, and for a little while it became very difficult to remember which was really the north.”
Thanks, Megan! Coming from writer’s writer you, I especially appreciate that word “delightful.”
And your Milne quote: delightful, too. That man is my hero.
I couldn’t agree more about Milne. I keep throwing away Disnified pseudo-Milne, but they just won’t go away. Is there an edition of the original text with lots of pictures?
Peter, We have old cloth-bound versions of the Pooh books with pen-and-ink illustrations by Ernest Shepard. There’s not a picture on every single page, but there are illustrations on most of them. They’re not in color, of course, which I’ve heard is off-putting to some young readers/listeners (I heard tell that some kids don’t like Blueberries for Sal because the blue-and-white drawings look “sick”). But my kids have never known any other Pooh, so they’re capisce with it. The newer versions with Shepard’s illustrations have been watercolored, so those are in color. I used the “search inside” feature on Amazon, it looks like this version may be what you’re looking for?
But my dear, I must protest… for I simply cannot endorse your recommendation.
The Two Towers was, without hesitation, the longest book I ever read. I started that literary torture-fest over nine years ago and only recently finished – last month. While the excerpt you chose was delightful, the Battle for Helm’s Deep was not.
Please do not misunderstand — I feel that both The Hobbit and The Fellowship of the Rings are positively thrilling! I have devoured each with elfin glee, many times, before smacking face first into the impenetrable bulwark that was The Two Towers.
On the bright side, I have looked forward to savoring The Return of the King for nearly a decade. Now, I am just waiting for the perfect winter’s day to crack the spine; but, if my persistence is not greatly rewarded, if I continue to trudged through Middle Earth, the final pages of the journey might just become kindling.
Oh, sister, you make me laugh!
The Return of the King is my favorite of the three books. I’ve been known to pick it up and read it without reading the first two volumes (gasp!) If you don’t love it, please don’t tell me. I won’t be able to bear it.
oh, I forgot to tell you.
My dog ate Pooh.
It sounds funnier than it was. The book and the Shepard illustrations are a bit tattered but still engaging. I really hate that my dog has good taste in books.
Great quotes Kimberlee. I have yet to read Wodehouse, though he’s been highly recommended to me by many. Where should I start with him?
Hi Blake! I think you could probably start with any Wodehouse book. My introduction to him was via Jeeves and Wooster (two of his recurring characters). Maybe start with Joy in the Morning? Happy reading!
Ah, but Alexander Beetle does return! He is the subject of Milne’s poem Forgiven. It was the only poem I memorized as a child and I still have the first two stanzas living in my neurons (oh, the joy to remember him as I read your post!!):
I found a little beetle; so that Beetle was his name,
And I called him Alexander and he answered just the same.
I put him in a match-box, and I kept him all the day …
And Nanny let my beetle out –
Yes, Nanny let my beetle out –
She went and let my beetle out –
And Beetle ran away.
She said she didn’t mean it, and I never said she did,
She said she wanted matches and she just took off the lid,
She said that she was sorry, but it’s difficult to catch
An excited sort of beetle you’ve mistaken for a match.
She said that she was sorry, and I really mustn’t mind,
As there’s lots and lots of beetles which she’s certain we could find,
If we looked about the garden for the holes where beetles hid –
And we’d get another match-box and write BEETLE on the lid.
We went to all the places which a beetle might be near,
And we made the sort of noises which a beetle likes to hear,
And I saw a kind of something, and I gave a sort of shout:
“A beetle-house and Alexander Beetle coming out!”
It was Alexander Beetle I’m as certain as can be,
And he had a sort of look as if he thought it must be Me,
And he had a sort of look as if he thought he ought to say:
“I’m very very sorry that I tried to run away.”
And Nanny’s very sorry too for you-know-what-she-did,
And she’s writing ALEXANDER very blackly on the lid,
So Nan and Me are friends, because it’s difficult to catch
An excited Alexander you’ve mistaken for a match.
Susan! Thanks for sharing this. I’m so glad Alexander Beetle lives on (even if he does so in a match-box).
I love this post. 🙂 It comes at a good time to inspire me. In order to write a piece of nonfiction this week, I had to traipse through some old journals. I found where I read 24 books in four months. I’m not sure I can match that pace today. 🙂 But it sounds like I need to add Milne to my new reading list. 🙂
Dave, yes, Milne should definitely go on your reading list. The man is a master of sentence construction and voice.
I barely manage 24 books in a year (unless you count all the reading I do with my kids? In which case, I probably read 24 books a day, 12 of which are Goodnight, Gorilla.)