A couple of years ago, a friend asked
me to pinpoint and describe an instance where an author used exactly the right word to convey a
particular feeling.
I chose to explore one of my favorite
books, The Giver, in which Lois Lowry
uses one of my favorite words, yearning.
I was reminded of this little writing
exercise while reading Lowry’s newest novel Son,
the conclusion to The Giver and the
quartet that includes Gathering Blue and
Messenger (It also turns out that
Lowry graduated from the University of Southern Maine, where I just completed
an M.A.).
Yearning
appears throughout Son, a conscious and deliberate word selection by Lowry, whose own
son was killed in the crash of his fighter plane. I was originally hesitant to
read “the thrilling conclusion to The
Giver” because there is a beauty to not knowing what happens to Jonas and
Gabe after they descend the snowy hill into the music-filled village. Post-reading,
I still don’t think the story extension was necessary, but seeing Lowry cope with her personal tragedy through
writing the text of Son, particularly
with the use of yearning, made it a
worthwhile and emotional read.
Below is the original piece I wrote. What are your examples of authors using the perfect word? I'd love to hear from you!
In the opening pages of Lois Lowry’s
acclaimed novel The Giver, the main
character Jonas searches for the “right word” to describe his feelings about
his community’s upcoming selections, where, as a 12-year-old, he would be
assigned the job to perform for the rest of his life. With the ceremony fast approaching,
Jonas thinks he feels frightened, but upon recollection of
another time when he felt “stomach-sinking terror,” he realizes that frightened
is “too strong an adjective” for this case. Because he has waited a long time--in
anticipation--for his assignment, he instead determines he feels eager.
Still, though, that’s not the right word.
At the pit of his stomach, he also feels a “little shudder of nervousness”
every time he thinks about this next big step, and he resolves apprehensive
most precisely describes his feelings.
Although precision of language is a
central aspect of “Sameness” in Jonas’s community, his approach to determining
word choice epitomizes the welcomed struggle every writer encounters—that
moment when she pauses in the middle of writing a sentence to filter through
the profusion of words whirling around her mind in search of the perfect one.
Choosing the right word in the right context with the audience in mind is not
only the most challenging task for a writer but also her most powerful tool,
and Lois Lowry uses it most skillfully. In two particular instances in The Giver, she reveals her powerful
connection with her character Jonas when she chooses the right words to evoke
certain feelings.
For example, from the beginning of the
story, Lowry chooses to use the word “release” to exemplify the acts of
euthanasia and infanticide in Jonas’s community. When an infant helplessly
takes a needle to the forehead because he’s the smaller twin, or when an
elderly woman is told by the community when she will take her last breath, they
are said to be “released.” This word has an undertone of liberation, relief,
and letting go, leaving the reader to empathize with the released characters
but also develop a curiosity about what the releasing ceremony is all about.
Rather than explicitly describe these events as they occur in the story, Lowry
evokes a sense of wonder in readers who then experience Jonas’s epiphany right
alongside him as he grows horrifyingly aware of the reality of his community’s
disturbing secrets. In choosing the word “release,” Lowry conveys Jonas’s and
his community’s naiveté and blindness, which the reader can identify with and
then experience Jonas’s feelings of anguish and distress upon discovery of the
reality withheld from him his whole life.
Another example of Lowry’s perfect word
choice comes on one of the last pages, after Jonas has escaped from the
community and is trudging up a hill in the snow with the infant Gabriel, whom
Jonas has saved from “release” for crying too much at night. Jonas tries to
draw a memory of sunshine, and he begins to feel “tiny tongues of heat” (talk
about perfect imagery!) warm his body, and “for a fleeting second” he wants to
keep it for himself. This selfish moment soon passes and is followed by an
“urge, a need, a passionate yearning to share the warmth with
the one person left for him to love.”
There’s just something about the word yearning—its
diction wholly exemplifies its meaning. As you articulate “yearn,” it extends
across your tongue like you’re reaching with the word out in front of you for
something lost, something missing, something loved. It evokes longing and
aching, and Lowry uses it perfectly in a series of adjectives. The sequence is
crafted crescendo, building up from a simple “urge” and “need” to “passionate
yearning.” This cadence of words illustrates Jonas’s realization of his intense
love for Gabriel, intensified by the fact that Jonas didn’t know anything about
love, compassion, or yearning for the first 12 years of his life; love is
completely wholly absent in Lowry’s world of “Sameness.” Lowry could have stopped
with “urge” or “need” or other words like “desire” or “long,” but her choice of
yearning
evokes much more compelling feelings, especially as Jonas fights for his and
Gabriel’s life, climbing a grueling hill on a cold, snowy night.
