Post by bunni on Apr 5, 2014 5:29:30 GMT
Take a look at these lines:
What do they mean?
I mean, is someone’s bloody chest gaping in the rain?
Well, some people think that’s exactly what I just wrote. And it sort of… is. I spotted a criticism of this literary device called out as wrong usage by a well-meaning teacher. That opinion had sparked a short-story in an anthology of Latin American writers.
This literary device is called metonymy. The term comes from Greek (which tells you how long the device has been in use).
meta - to change
onoma - name
You’ll see examples of metonymy crop up in poetry, and somewhat less often — maybe due to reactions like the one the teacher had — in novels. Metonymy uses a part of something to represent the whole thing. It’s perfectly legal in writing. Shakespeare used it, and, if you’re lucky, you use it too. Probably organically. That is, you have occasional moments of metonymy when you’re in gear. If you’re unfamiliar with this literary device, no problems, a little practice and you’ll soon get the hang of it. For instance, it wasn’t a sail that crested the ice, flapping in the wind, presumably. That sail means a ship. (We’re all saved!)
We girls knew Ms Withers’ boot upon the porch.
This is pretty easy to break down when you know what you’re looking at. The girls may fear Ms Withers. They know the sound of her coming up the stairs and to the door. Or they may be eager for her to arrive. But I’m betting not. She’s not named Ms Poppins, after all. Either way, it’s a larger statement than “Hey. Is Ms. Withers hopping home?”, or it could be, given a context. The substitution is pretty clear here, too. Ms Withers? You have been reduced to a boot.
He stood and steamed, with his chest open to the elements.
So this guy is hot. By that I mean overheated. Okay, maybe both. The point is, this guy’s skin is steaming. He’s opened up — maybe torn off — his shirt. (Take your pick!)
Metonymy deviates from standard prose structures just enough to wake the senses of your readers. Used properly, it spices up your writing and creates strong mental allusions as they read.
If any of your teachers think otherwise, don’t fret! Just pass your copy of Julius Caesar and ask if teach wouldn’t mind lending you his ear.
He’ll get it!
- He stood and steamed, with his chest open to the elements.
- A blue sail crested the ice-edge.
- We girls knew Ms Withers’ boot upon the porch.
What do they mean?
I mean, is someone’s bloody chest gaping in the rain?
Well, some people think that’s exactly what I just wrote. And it sort of… is. I spotted a criticism of this literary device called out as wrong usage by a well-meaning teacher. That opinion had sparked a short-story in an anthology of Latin American writers.
This literary device is called metonymy. The term comes from Greek (which tells you how long the device has been in use).
meta - to change
onoma - name
You’ll see examples of metonymy crop up in poetry, and somewhat less often — maybe due to reactions like the one the teacher had — in novels. Metonymy uses a part of something to represent the whole thing. It’s perfectly legal in writing. Shakespeare used it, and, if you’re lucky, you use it too. Probably organically. That is, you have occasional moments of metonymy when you’re in gear. If you’re unfamiliar with this literary device, no problems, a little practice and you’ll soon get the hang of it. For instance, it wasn’t a sail that crested the ice, flapping in the wind, presumably. That sail means a ship. (We’re all saved!)
We girls knew Ms Withers’ boot upon the porch.
This is pretty easy to break down when you know what you’re looking at. The girls may fear Ms Withers. They know the sound of her coming up the stairs and to the door. Or they may be eager for her to arrive. But I’m betting not. She’s not named Ms Poppins, after all. Either way, it’s a larger statement than “Hey. Is Ms. Withers hopping home?”, or it could be, given a context. The substitution is pretty clear here, too. Ms Withers? You have been reduced to a boot.
He stood and steamed, with his chest open to the elements.
So this guy is hot. By that I mean overheated. Okay, maybe both. The point is, this guy’s skin is steaming. He’s opened up — maybe torn off — his shirt. (Take your pick!)
Metonymy deviates from standard prose structures just enough to wake the senses of your readers. Used properly, it spices up your writing and creates strong mental allusions as they read.
If any of your teachers think otherwise, don’t fret! Just pass your copy of Julius Caesar and ask if teach wouldn’t mind lending you his ear.
He’ll get it!