Today we see that instead of painting a scene richly, over-frequent adjectives can drain the vital energy from it.
What I gleaned about the story: An old man sits in a dark room, contemplating the cloud of adjectives that keep him warm.
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Analysis: The pinprick’s dusty beam cut through the chamber’s drabness widening until it encircled an ancient looking man sitting in tall chair before a huge oaken desk. The missing definite article would normally be a minor irritant, but coming in the very first sentence, it declares loudly that this book has not been edited and significantly undermines the author’s credibility from the outset, when he is at his most vulnerable.
Analysis: Bald and bare headed slowly rubbing his scalp, the old man slouched in his throne gaze fixed on a sheet of parchment on the desk. I may be the only one, but I want a comma after “headed” and another after “throne.” I had to pause for a moment to wonder what a “throne gaze” was, and whether it meant this man had a particular expression he wore when seated on his chair of power.
Analysis: I’m almost all the way to the bottom of the first page and I have yet to see a noun without an accompanying adjective or two. Rather than painting a rich scene, continuous adjectives act like leeches on the reader, slowly draining them of energy until they can read no further.
I don’t know about you, but I like the description of a “throne gaze” for a look someone has when they are seated on their throne. Even though the author did not mean that, I’d like to use it now.
I agree, Josh. It sounds a bit like the thousand-yard stare, but more regal. :-)
Hi, Jeff. Your analysis of this book sounds right on target, but I have a pet peeve about the phrase “purple prose.” Does this refer to all elevated prose? Or does it refer only to bad elevated prose? The hidden message, buried in this ambiguity, is that the answer to both questions is yes. Which would mean
elevated prose = bad prose
That sometimes does seem to be the attitude of today’s publishing world. But that would mean that we should throw out every word of Shakespeare! Think about it. “To be or not to be” is beautiful writing, maybe we should call it “golden.” What you disliked above is not.
Ask three writers to define “purple prose,” and you’ll get five definitions. In my usage, it is not about being elevated, but about being conspicuously overwritten, or belabored. The simplest and most common variant I see in indie work is the one I’ve cited here, where every noun has an adjective or two tagging along.
I’m 99% sure I’d agree with you if I read those same amateurish works, but my question is: where would you place Shakespeare, Steinbeck, Tennessee Williams, etc.? That’s what makes me see red when I see the phrase “purple prose.” Maybe we need a separate term that refers to writing that is both elevated and magnificently done.
This is probably a “Your Mileage May Vary” situation, Brian, because I’ve never heard any of those authors’ works described as “purple.” Ornate, certainly, as was befitting to their times and genres. But not “purple.” I guess it depends on whose criticisms and commentaries you tend to read.
Too me, purple prose implies that it is swollen. While occasionally ‘swollen’ can be used positively, e.g. a swollen money purse, that is far less common than it’s negative use, as in describing a swollen body part. Because swollen/bruised/purple go together in my mind, purple prose is bad. Literary prose, on the other hand, is high prose and can be described simply as beautiful; no need to throw the P word out there in that case.