I love the phrase "shiver language." It so aptly describes what it is - languages, words, phrases that send a shiver down your spine because they are so well-written or because they show the world in a way that you would otherwise never have seen it. (The traditional phrase for this is "figurative language", but that doesn't strike me as particularly descriptive. Figurative language makes you do what - figurate?)
I recently discovered a book that was a surprising source of shiver language – Criss Cross by Lynne Rae Perkins. It was the Newbery Award winner of 2006. I’ve had a rather hit-and-miss experience with Newbery winners so far. Some of them are awesome; some of them make me wonder why anyone liked them, let alone voted for them to win. So I was excited to find shiver language scattered throughout Criss Cross. (In addition to the shiver language, it really is quite a good coming-of-age story set in the 1970s.)
I’d like to share with you some of writing that sent a shiver down my spine:
“The edge of the night moved visibly across the sky.”
“A guy with a guitar climbed onto the stage and started plunking out chords that dropped softly into the noise of the room, making pockets of quiet wherever they fell.”
“Life was rearranging itself; bulging in places, fraying in spots. Sometimes leaving holes big enough to see through, or even step through, to somewhere else.”
“The remnant of a question hung in the air.”
“A fact, a feather of knowledge, had been floating around the outside of Debbie’s mind searching for a place to enter, for an opening in the light but unbroken cloud cover that had surrounded it a little while ago.”
“A time-honored line of reasoning that encompasses both truth and quicksand.”
“They shared their golden selves with the world, and the world smiled back.”
“She had an invisible cloud of new feelings that went around with her.”
“Debbie’s heart sprang up and bounded across the room in one jump.”
“But their secrets inadvertently sidestepped each other, unaware, like blindfolded elephants crossing the tiny room.”
“Her face was intent and summery in the wobbly light.”
“The part of her that was open to the universe was facing in another direction just then.”
I recently discovered a book that was a surprising source of shiver language – Criss Cross by Lynne Rae Perkins. It was the Newbery Award winner of 2006. I’ve had a rather hit-and-miss experience with Newbery winners so far. Some of them are awesome; some of them make me wonder why anyone liked them, let alone voted for them to win. So I was excited to find shiver language scattered throughout Criss Cross. (In addition to the shiver language, it really is quite a good coming-of-age story set in the 1970s.)
I’d like to share with you some of writing that sent a shiver down my spine:
“The edge of the night moved visibly across the sky.”
“A guy with a guitar climbed onto the stage and started plunking out chords that dropped softly into the noise of the room, making pockets of quiet wherever they fell.”
“Life was rearranging itself; bulging in places, fraying in spots. Sometimes leaving holes big enough to see through, or even step through, to somewhere else.”
“The remnant of a question hung in the air.”
“A fact, a feather of knowledge, had been floating around the outside of Debbie’s mind searching for a place to enter, for an opening in the light but unbroken cloud cover that had surrounded it a little while ago.”
“A time-honored line of reasoning that encompasses both truth and quicksand.”
“They shared their golden selves with the world, and the world smiled back.”
“She had an invisible cloud of new feelings that went around with her.”
“Debbie’s heart sprang up and bounded across the room in one jump.”
“But their secrets inadvertently sidestepped each other, unaware, like blindfolded elephants crossing the tiny room.”
“Her face was intent and summery in the wobbly light.”
“The part of her that was open to the universe was facing in another direction just then.”
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