There’s something about a well-crafted turn of a phrase that
has always given me pause. Even as a child, when I would read a book and came
across an unexpected, beautifully-turned phrase, I would stop and read just
that phrase, over and over, until I could practically taste it. Then, I would
continue on with the story.
For me to love a book, it must have more than just well-fleshed-out
characters, an engaging story and snappy repartee. The books that stay with me
are the ones whose word choices surprise and delight me, whose phrases are both
unexpected and exquisite. One of the first books I can remember staying with me
is "The Age of Innocence," by Edith Wharton.

Instead of a mundane throw-away line about the matriarch no
longer being physically active, Ms. Wharton wrote: “The burden of Mrs. Manson
Mingott’s flesh had long since made it impossible for her to go up and down
stairs….” The burden of her flesh – I love this phrase. It is succinct, concise
and descriptive without being maudlin. It is perfect.
The protagonist of the story, Newland Archer, is a young man
of modern values who is constrained by the traditions of the society in which
he, his family and friends lived. As described by Wharton, they lived above the
“unruffled surface of New York society.” Newland was engaged to be married to
May Welland, which would accomplish not only his own betrothal but the merger
of two honored New York families. While watching his fiancée from across the
audience of the old opera house, Newland “contemplated her absorbed young face
with a thrill of possessorship in which pride in his own masculine initiation
was mingled with a tender reverence for her abysmal purity.” With all deference
to modern culture, isn’t this a much nicer way of saying that he was proud of
himself for being the one to snag this beautiful, young virgin? In literature,
whether old or new, it’s all about the words.
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