Some literary devices just make sense. Take the alliteration, where you have a sequence of words beginning with the same letter – it is both beautiful to read and write. On the other hand, there are some literary devices that seemingly make no sense at all… like a paradoxical statement which is neither true nor false. Want to learn to write elegant sentences that makes your readers’ heads spin? Then join us as we continue our exploration of Mark Forsyth’s book The Elements of Eloquence: How to Turn the Perfect English Phrase!
Zoinks! It’s a zeugma
A zeugma is a rhetoric where a single word (often a verb) is applied to two or more subjects to convey multiple meanings. At its most basic, an example of a zeugma would be: “Jim went to the beach, Martha to the mall and John to the café.” Went is omitted from subsequent clauses because it’s logically applied to them.
Using zeugmas has always been a bit of a struggle says Forsyth. Even Shakespeare, the master of poetic writing and eloquence, had trouble writing catchy zeugmas. Consider this verse from Romeo and Juliet:
“To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear.
And she as much in love, her means much less
To meet her new beloved anywhere.
But passion lends them power, time means, to meet…”
Unlike our example where the phrases are laid out in a simple “subject pronoun-verb-object noun” setting, Shakespeare uses “subject noun-verb-object noun” where it’s not immediately clear which noun is the subject and which the object – especially since the word means has multiple definitions. “Of course time is lending them means, but it takes a little moment to work that out,” explains Forsyth. Shakespeare is no stranger to complex writing structure, but perhaps using the zeugma here muddled up the delivery and impact of the line.
So why are zeugmas so troublesome in English? Forsyth believes it stems from the structure of a typical sentence. “English is a nice, sequential language where things happen in a sensible order… we’re not used to seeing verbs miles away from their nouns.” Secondly, most people prefer using an isocolon because two sentences or phrases that are grammatically and structurally parallel are more pleasing to the eye. “‘My true love hath my heart and I have his’ wouldn’t be nearly as beautiful if it were ‘ my true love hath my heart, I his’ or even ‘my true love my heart, I have his’, which is, frankly, gibberish.”
That said, zeugmas aren’t all bad. “It makes things sound crisp and clear,” he notes. “You start with a full and florid sentence and then you’re down to a bunch of nouns. The first clause sounds normal, the second curt” – like when Oscar Wilde dismissively said “the good end happily and the bad unhappily. That is what fiction means.” If you need to make a quick statement or opinion, zeugmas might fit the bill. For example, if you wanted to do a scathing movie review in one sentence:
“Star Wars Part 23: The Return of the Son of Skywalker brimmed with pointless character development, insipid plot lines and forced romantics.”
Sometimes, it’s difficult to interpret a writer’s emotions when they aren’t being very descriptive about what they are feeling (like in this profanity-ridden Key and Peele sketch on texting confusions), but by omitting several verbs, you show that you’re a “taciturn guy who doesn’t waste time on main verbs, or breath on you [in this case, a terrible movie]”.
Perplexing paradoxes
When two parts of a statement completely contradict each other, you have a paradox – like Schrodinger’s cat being both alive and dead at the same time or in the Chinese idiom where a merchant’s “razor-sharp” spear is pitted against his “impenetrable” shield.
True paradoxes (like the above) are pretty rare. According to Forsyth, most paradoxes we come across are more of a “veridical paradox” than a contradiction. Let’s examine another example from Wilde’s works to further illustrate the point:
“In this world there are two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.”
“Really there’s no paradox here,” writes Forsyth. “You or I might have said ‘screwed either way’, but not Wilde. He simply sets the sentence up as though it’s going to mention two separate things, and then doubles back on himself. The content is not paradoxical. The phrasing is.” Such paradoxes merely appear impossible due to clever wording. To integrate this idea into a marketing headline:
Without veridical paradox
Dawson’s Nuts: For almonds that are irresistible.
With veridical paradox
Dawson’s Nuts: You’ll go nuts with these almonds and nuts without them.
Both examples mean the same thing, but the way they are presented gives them a sense of uniqueness. The plain jane is nice, but you have to admit that a veridical paradox provokes more thought. “It is style not substance that counts, and the superficial qualities that last, even when the deeper nature has been found out,” muses Forsyth on the beauty of veridical paradoxes.
How about true paradoxes? When are they applicable? Well… true paradoxes are more for “breaking the laws of the universe” and are most common in religious contexts. “Before Abraham was, I am. God’s service is perfect freedom. He is a circle whose centre is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere,” lists Forsyth. “These ideas may not be geometrically workable from an engineering point of view, but the ideas that they stir are of thought outside mere reality, and by their very operation on the human mind, they show themselves to have value.”
Blather that makes no logical sense? That’s the true paradox for you… but boy can contradictions sound beautiful – like in Paul Simon’s “The Sound of Silence” where “people talk without speaking and people hear without listening”. True paradoxes can be integrated into copywriting as well. Reusing Dawson’s Nuts from above and taking inspiration from George Orwell’s Animal Farm, we have:
With true paradox
Dawson’s Nuts: All almonds are equal, but some almonds are better than the others.
Mocking equality is a witty way to express that your nuts are better than your competitors, but do be careful about using paradoxes in this way – it can appear too boastful and may rub certain audiences (and/or competitors) the wrong way. It’s usually considered good etiquette to avoid comparative marketing, unless you truly are heads and shoulders above the competition.
Everyone appreciates straightforward writing, but every so often, you come across a twister that takes your brain for a joyride. Zeugmas, while simple in theory, can become quite the doozy to decipher; whereas paradoxes are natural thought provokers. We wouldn’t recommend using these in formal or corporate copywriting, but they can be potent stimulants in casual writing. Let us know in the comments how you would use a zeugma or paradox and stay tuned for more literary fun from Forsyth!
To check out the other literary devices we’ve covered in the past:
Part 1 – Alliterations and assonance
Part 2 – Polyptotons, antitheses, merisms and blazons
Part 3 – Hyperbatons, anadiplosis and periodic sentences
Part 4 – Parataxis and hypotaxis
Part 5 – Diacopes and rhetorical questions
Part 6 – Hendiadyses, epistrophes and tricolons
Part 7 – Syllepses and iscolons
Part 8 – Enallages, versification and epizeuxes