When you read something, do you like it when writers resort to “tropes,” i.e. twists or turns of language,” or do you prefer that they “tell it like it is”?
For as long as I’ve been able to read, I’ve disliked the use of “cry” or “cried” when the writer means simply that someone shouted, or even cried out.”
Why do I dislike such usage? I suspect too many writers try to be over-dramatic, as if the act of crying creates more animation than merely saying something.
Look at the volumes of children’s literature and count the number of times children (especially) cry for something quite pedestrian, like this:
“Throw me the ball!” he cried. Assuredly, the writer means that the crier merely “cried out,” spoke in a loud voice, rather than actually turning on the waterworks.
I think the shedding of tears should happen only when bigger, tougher kids on the playground swipe a smaller kid’s ball and refuse to return it. That makes crying justifiable and explainable.
But the authors generally have it wrong. Crying refers to what a person does when hurting, when overcome by emotion, or peeling onions.
Crying involves real tears and is not synonymous with a shout. Now that we’ve cleared that up, let’s explore other ways authors perturb the rest of us.
Writers use a million ways of expressing the simple concept of “he said.”
Those with synonymania or dramania (don’t look up these words) search for equivalents to “he said,” and come up with “he emphasized,” “he stressed,” “he pointed out,” “he remarked,” and a few other terms.
However, no matter how hard we try, we can’t get these words to mean precisely “he said.” True, one can inform others by stressing or emphasizing something, but the idea of saying something is unique.
So people find alternatives. For example, note what’s wrong with the following:
“‘That’s wishful thinking,’ he snorted.”
He snorted? Yes, we all get the idea of a snort, a loud, explosive sound made by the sudden forcing of breath through a person’s nose, to express indignation or derision. Many of us have been treated snortfully, but there’s something about the limited musculature of the mouth that prevents someone from speaking and snorting at the same time.
The three-word sentence above would take minutes if the snorter really were uttering the sentence at the same time.
And in writing, there’s invariably someone who shows contempt or dislike for something by sniffing, as in “‘I don’t like the boss’s new proposal,’ he sniffed.”
Try sniffing — which means the audible drawing in of air through the nostrils — and speaking at the same time. It doesn’t work, as speaking requires exhalation, and sniffing demands the opposite.
Laughing may come closest to the notion of expressing something while being humorous. Have you, for example, ever cracked up while telling a joke and barely getting out the punchline? It’s possible to laugh and speak at the same time — far easier than speaking and snorting, or sniffing or drooling.
Some former students in my composition classes tried to find substitutes for “said,” and in doing so came up with interesting creations. One student wrote, “‘We enjoyed the play,’ he chortled.” Now, aside from “chortled” being a word one seldom encounters anywhere, the expression means to laugh in a breathy, gleeful way.
But that’s too much like the easier talking-while-laughing procedure.
“Chortle,” by the way, is one of Lewis Carroll’s portmanteau words in “Alice in Wonderland,” a blending of “chuckle” and “snort.”
About the only way to get around the “snorted” construction is to use “said” anyway, and add a Tom Swiftie, an adverbial pun. A good Tom Swiftie requires a follow-up phrase that reveals how the person said something. It adds a “twist.”
A few examples:
“‘Let’s go to the cemetery,’ he said gravely.”
“‘My investments are worth more every day,’ said Tom appreciatively.”
“‘Give me a haircut,’ Tom said barbarously.”
“‘I have to keep this fire lit,’ Tom bellowed.”
“‘Use your own toothbrush,’ Tom bristled.”
“‘My car won’t start,’ Tom choked.”
“‘I’ll never get promoted to corporal,’ he said privately.”
“‘Don’t let me drown in Egypt!’ pleaded Tom, deep in denial.”
“‘I manufacture tabletops,’ said Tom counterproductively.”
“‘Elvis is dead,’ said Tom expressly.”
“‘For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful,’ said Tom gracefully.”
Many believe Tom Swifties originated in the novel “Gulliver’s Travels,” by Jonathan Swift, but most sources credit Edward Stratemeyer, who wrote a series of strip cartoons about a character called Tom Swift, in the ‘20s.
To test the efficacy of “said” over “cried,” “sniffed,” “grunted” or “snorted,” I checked all the locally written copy in today’s edition and found that “said” is the word of choice.
But that bit of research got interrupted when the boss, the other Tom, reminded me of straining the Optic’s deadline.
“I need to edit your copy again,” he re-marked. “And hurry up with that column; you’re past the deadline,” he cried.