Personification & Apostrophe

As with many of the other figures discussed in this series, personification and apostrophe are technical terms for linguistic phenomena that we use unconsciously in everyday life, not complex devices employed only by master poets. The root of the word personification gives us an important clue as to the meaning of both of these terms, and if you think about it carefully, you can almost derive the definition of that term from simply reading it. PERSONification employs the word person, and ends with a relatively common suffix that is employed to make a verb into a noun. Personification is therefore the act of treating something that is not a person as if it were; sort of.



Technically, this definition is somewhat too narrow, though it is a helpful way to remember what the term means in a general way. More specifically, personification is the treatment of inanimate objects, non-living things, and abstract entities as if they were living things. Note how his differs from the preliminary definition above; you don't need to treat something as a person necessarily, just as a living thing. A classic device of the fable, treating animals as if they were human, is called anthropomorphism, which resembles personification, but which must attribute human characteristics to any non-human being.

An obvious illustrative example of personification rests in a common poetic image:

"The leaves danced in the cool breeze."

Immediately, we know what is going on here in a literal sense; the leaves are being blown around by the wind. However, notice how much more satisfying and evocative this personification is. First, it attributes the agency to the thing being described, which makes the leaves spring to the foreground and come to life. Next, it makes the movements of the leaves more specific, allowing us to visualize them flitting about in a somewhat rhythmic and gentle fashion instead of being blown wildly about. Finally, it sets the mood of the scene efficiently, since dancing is a happy, joyous activity in general.

This brings us to a specific kind of personification, called apostrophe, which refers to a direct address to an inanimate or abstract entity as if it were a human capable of understanding the address. One of the most famous examples of this phenomenon is "Death be not proud" by John Donne, where the speaker addresses death throughout the poem, cautioning him/her not to be proud, for in the end death is defeated by eternal life. This device is sometimes made even more apparent by capitalizing the entity that is being addressed, making what is often an abstract noun (like death) a proper noun or a proper name, as Chaucer does in the Canterbury Tales, again with Death.

The effect of this device shares some characteristics with personification, but most often has an even more profound impact because the personification is extended and developed in a more detailed manner. In the case of Donne's poem, by using apostrophe the poet is able to express an emotion which often accompanies the death of a loved one, anger, but rather than address it to a particular individual or even God, which are both common targets, Donne turns his anger against its true cause, death itself. As a result, the expression of his emotion is pure, and he makes it so all of us who have ever lost someone can relate. He targets a universal phenomenon all of us have experienced to some degree rather than any specific individual, making the poem personal for all who read it.

Alliteration

As is the case for most of the aspects of figurative language discussed thus far in the series, figurative language most often works on the level of meaning, comparative and overlapping layers of meaning especially. Simile and metaphor are the leading examples, where aspects of a given entity are highlighted through juxtaposition with another, generally dissimilar one. However, figurative language can operate on many other levels as well, and the level of sound is the area where alliteration makes its presence felt.

Although our literary experiences today are almost entirely text based, in that we read works rather than listening to someone read them aloud, the place of "sound effects" in good writing is still easily recognized. Rhyme is perhaps the best and most well known example of sound effects in literary writing, but alliteration is a close second, and for centuries in the oldest forms of English it was the dominant ordering sound effect in all verse. Alliteration most simply defined is the occurrence of the same sound at the beginning of at least two words that are presented near each other in a given text. Note that the lead sound is the vital consideration, not the lead letter. In English where the same letter can often make two or more different sounds, this is a point not to be forgotten. "City" and "cake" do not alliterate despite beginning with the same letter, nor do "knight" and "kite" (even though this last pair happens to rhyme). On the contrary, "cake" and "kite" do alliterate despite the differing lead letters, as do "city" and "sorry."

Many tongue twisters are exaggerated examples of alliteration, where every or nearly every word in a given line or verse begins with the same sound.

"She sells sea shells down by the sea shore"

obviously uses the letter s to begin words almost to the point of absurdity. In this case, the effect of the device is to make the whole sequence challenging to pronounce by using a dominant beginning sound but altering the sounds around it slightly to trick the reader into repeating not only the lead s sound, but also other parts of the previous words where they are no longer applicable.

This trick shows the ability alliteration has to affect the reading process by drawing together nearby words so that they remain in our minds for longer, and so that each reminds us of the other. For example, in the line:

"The whispering winds swirled the mists of memory, wandering over the moors,"

we immediately get a sense of the place merely from the sound of the line. "Whispering winds" uses the repeated w sound to give us a hushed feeling which is reinforced by the resemblance of the sound to the actual sound of wind. The w sounds are wispy and airy, which perfectly mirrors the things being described. Next we see another alliterated pair, "mists of memory," which are joined by the common m sound which is deeper and fuller, appropriately describing darker, equally ephemeral but more serious ideas. Finally, we see "wandering" and "moors" in the last part of the line, uniting it to the two previous parts through the use first of a w sound followed closely by an m sound. This unites the two previous alliterated aspects of the line, bringing them once more to mind and encouraging us to hear their echoes of both sound and meaning in the final words. Although alliteration operates on the level of sound, the repetition with variation encourages us to consider how the words are different as well, how their meanings can be compared, and how they are related to each other. Alliteration is used in jingles to make them easier to remember, songs to make them sound better (because the ear loves repeated sounds in moderation), and especially in poetry for both its pleasing qualities, and for its ability to draw together disparate meanings.

Consonance and Assonance

The idea of "sound effects" in language, especially in literature, is one that has been discussed previously in this series, and though most literature is now written, the power of the spoken word has not been lost. Poetry is perhaps the place where sound makes the greatest impact on the reading experience, with rhyme, alliteration, and onomatopoeia being the clearest and most easily identifiable examples. However, if you are willing to look even more closely at well written verse, you will often find that other more subtle but no less powerful devices are at work, manipulating patterns of sound and having an important effect on your reading experience.

Consonance and assonance are terms describing devices similar to alliteration, but which are not bound to the starting sound of a word (nor to the ending sound, like rhyme). These devices get less attention because they are harder to notice, and because most poetic forms are not centered on them, whereas rhyme and alliteration are at the core of certain poetic forms and traditions. In order to remember what these terms do, and how they are different, it is useful to look at the beginning of the word consonance, and think of the word "consonant" (as in the opposite of a vowel).Consonance is therefore the repetition of a given consonant sound in at least two but usually more adjacent words. Unlike alliteration, consonance relies on sounds present throughout the words, rather than just at their beginning. Read the following example phrase and try to pick out the consonance you hear, as well as the effect it has: "Whacking the cracked chalk against the blackboard." Reading this over once or twice (and reading out loud also makes this easier), you can hear the predominant "k" sound, and even though these sounds are produced by "c's" as well as "k's," it is the sound rather than the letter that matters. The "k" sound is a harsh one, causing the throat to close and air to be rapidly pushed out, creating an effect that is highly appropriate to the violence done to the cracking chalk in the phrase.

Assonance, as you might have guessed already, is very similar to consonance, with the difference being that the repeated sound falls on vowel sounds rather than consonant sounds. The effect is similar as well, although consonance tends to feel more like alliteration, and pairs with it well, whereas assonance feells more like rhyme, since rhymes rely primarily on vowel sounds and alliteration on consonants. A large dose of assonance is apparent in the following example verse: "Cole roams nowhere, hopeless, knowing every home, every moat." Vowel sounds without rhyme are somewhat more difficult to find than their rhymed counterparts or grouped consonants, but we can hear in this sentence a definite patterning of the long "o" sound. The effect here is subtle, but the assonance brings together the various parts of the verse in a melodic unity, and the long "o" sound is often considered an expression of despair, as in "Oh no!" or the more dramatic "Nooooo!" of many action movies. Fittingly, the sound is also low, produced toward the rear of the mouth as opposed to the front (unlike high front vowels like "i"), giving a slow moaning effect.

From now on, whenever you read a line that sounds especially good, especially a poetic line, start by considering the more obvious sound effects like rhyme, alliteration, and meter. However, don't stop there! Looking for assonance and consonance can go a long way toward explaining why a given line sounds as sweetly as it does, and especially in the absence of the other sound effects listed above, it often allows you to provide an effective analysis of a line which will surprise and delight your teachers and professors.

Euphemism

Since so much of our rhetorical terminology originated with the Greeks, it is not surprising that so many of them have strong Greek roots. Euphemism is no exception here, as it is based on the Greek word euphemos, basically meaning "good" as in euphoria. Euphemism has been used over the centuries, but in today's word of careful public speech and political correctness, euphemism has moved from a relatively marginal position to one of the foremost devices for linguistic change. If you don't know the right euphemism for a particular idea or group of people, you will quickly find yourself apologizing for your lack of sensitivity and ignorance.

A euphemism is a word or phrase that stands in place of a different word or phrase that has negative or derogatory connotations, or that is seen as taboo. As the root of the word suggests, it is a good word standing in place of a word that is inappropriate. In orthodox Judaism, for example, saying the name of God, or even the word God is considered inappropriate and even blasphemous. As a result, they use the Hebrew word Hashem (or other similar constructions) which basically means "our Lord." In this way, it is possible to speak about God without using his name, since that would be considered taboo.

Euphemistic terms are everywhere in today's society, and it is not difficult to think of very common examples with a long history. The idea of death is one that has made human societies fearful across the ages, and in English we have many long-standing euphemisms that can replace the words "death" and "dying." When a police or military representative has to tell a family that their loved one has died, it is considered very harsh to bluntly state "Ma'am, your son is dead." Instead, other terms are used, the most common being "passed away." This seems like a somewhat odd term when examined, because though it seems to suggest that the person has gone somewhere, like heaven or some other spiritual realm, "away" is very vague, although it does make clear the fact that the person, wherever they have gone, is no longer here. "Kicked the bucket," "bought the farm," "croaked," and "taken a dirt nap" are all synonyms for "died," but these are all now considered more harsh than the term they have come to replace, and so do not properly qualify as euphemisms.

As I mentioned in the introduction, euphemism has grown robust through the progress of the political correctness movement, with both positive and annoying consequences. One of the original terms for a black person in the United States was the derogatory term "nigger," which comes from the Latin word for black. Since the term was used during a time of repression and inequality for black people, it was as much an insult as a descriptive term, and so the rise of the civil rights movement rightly saw changes in the language to rid it of the highly negative powerful term. "Negro" was a suitable replacement for a time, but since it contained the same root and sounded very similar, it was doomed from the start to take on the old connotations. "Colored," "black," "African American," and most recently, "person of color" have all moved into the position of neutral descriptive term, but all have been found to be problematic by various groups and sub-groups for being too broad, too specific, inaccurate, or negative. Part of the problem, of course, is that those who discriminate against a given group will use the new terms in discriminatory ways, bringing the old connotations to the new words. As a result, new euphemisms need to be introduced constantly in order to avoid producing unintended offence, and so we are left with a vocabulary with many, many synonyms, and a potential minefield for new speakers of the language who are not aware of the latest developments.

Synesthesia

One of the more popular recent additions to the family of figurative language is synesthesia, an interesting and evocative device that has its roots in a medical condition. The term synesthesia comes from a combination of two Greek roots, the prefix syn meaning together (like in synchronized) and aesthesis meaning perception (as in aesthetic). So, synesthesia means joined or combined perception, and medically it refers to people who perceive sensations on different sensory modalities in response to some apparently unrelated stimulus. For example, it is common for synesthesia sufferers to associate colors with numbers, so that each time they see the number five, they immediately have a sensation of brown-ness, meaning they think of this number as being brown, and may substitute the word brown for the number five (which would make giving out your phone number tricky, to say the least). Synesthesia can occur across any sensory modality, so that one may taste vinegar when hearing a bell ring, or hear a snapping sound whenever smelling lilacs.

Literary scholars have co-opted this medical term to describe a type of figurative language that joins or mixes sensations from different senses. It might seem like an odd thing to do, but synesthesia's use and history in language is broader than we might imagine, and all of us have heard examples of it despite not knowing the technical term. For example, it is not uncommon to refer to someone's necktie as being loud, and Canadian hockey fans well know that there is no more apt description of commentator Don Cherry's wardrobe.

Breaking down the synesthesia in this situation, we can see that we have two senses at work, sight and hearing (the visual and auditory senses to name them properly). The necktie in question is very colorful, perhaps a bright pink with neon green stripes and studded with shining rhinestones. Now, it is obvious that the tie is highly noticeable, but despite its stand-out nature, in reality it makes no sound at all. As is the case with most aspects of figurative language, this device is most noticeable when the phrase containing it does not make literal sense. So, reading this figuratively, we must consider how the stunningly bright nature of the tie relates to being loud, and we find here a relation based on similarity of magnitude. The necktie in question is far more visible and obvious than the rest of the outfit we see, as well as neckties in general. So, it commands attention, and figuratively "drowns out" things around it. In the context of normal clothing, it is apparent and unmistakable. Thus, we can say that the tie is loud, comparing the strong visual effect to a strong auditory effect. Just like a loud sound is very noticeable, making it stand out from the noise around it, so too is the tie.

Another common example of synesthesia is the relation of color to mood or disposition. I can refer to myself as being blue, in the pink, or seeing red, and people will know just what I am talking about, because these colors have been linked conventionally to the corresponding emotions of sadness, happiness, and anger. The link between these colors and emotions is less obvious than the relation between the necktie and volume above, and while there may be psychological reasons these colors are cast in their emotive roles, the relationship is at base a socially constructed one. The range of synesthesia can be made far wider in literature and especially poetry, as authors may combine disparate sensory effects without needing to establish a clear link. "Crimson screams" for example presents two words that have no obvious relation or conventional meaning when placed together, and yet their presentation together sends the reader's mind into vivid considerations.

Pathetic Fallacy

In the realm of logic, a fallacy is a common error in reasoning that can seem convincing but which has no logical validity, and proves nothing. In literary terms, fallacies refer to commonly used devices which, while not incorrect in the same strict way as logical fallacies, nonetheless are considered by many to be weak and ineffective devices. Whether these fallacies are considered unsuitable by any given author or critic is a matter of subjective opinion, but the devices they describe are nevertheless worth investigating, and several devices have been given their names through their classification as fallacies, as is the case here.

The pathetic fallacy sounds like the worst, saddest, most unfit fallacy of all, named for how pathetic it is, but it must be noted that the use of the word pathetic here has different connotations than the word has in current popular use. We tend to the use the word to describe a person or thing that is really unworthy, generally undesirable, highly pitiable, and possibly even somewhat disgusting. The roots of the term, however, relate to the Greek term pathos, which has to do with the emotions and their display, as well as empathy, that being our perception and reaction to the emotions we see in others. The word happens to be the basis of our word "pity," which has some negative connotations, and this is how our current word "pathetic" came to hold the negative associations it does.

The pathetic fallacy taps into the earlier, broader sense of the word, and has to do with the attribution of human emotions to non-human entities, especially nature and natural processes. This seems like anthropomorphism (treating something non-human as if it were human), or even personification (treating an inanimate entity as if it were living), but it has another aspect which separates it from these terms. If the natural world responds according to the emotional situation of characters in a poem or story, this is also an example of the pathetic fallacy; nature does not need to be emotional itself, but merely needs to do things that seem to go along with a given event or mood.

Some examples make this phenomenon and its different aspects far more clear. "The wind howled angrily at the window" is an example of the most evident sort of pathetic fallacy, where nature is clearly being personified. The wind seems to be human here, and it is evidently angry. On the other hand, the following is a far more subtle example of the fallacy, where personification is not apparent: "Greta cried, weeping at her terrible fate, her entire world ruined by the horrors of war. Outside, the rain pelted the thin roof and windows of the home, dogs howled, and a grey darkness enveloped the entire scene. In this setting, the sun was difficult even to imagine." Here, the emotional description is where we would expect it to be, firmly rooted in the character Greta. However, notice that external nature seems to be acting in sympathy to her emotions. We associate rain and dark weather with sadness; the howling dog evokes similar associations of loneliness; and it is even suggested that the sun is unimaginable in the situation, which suggests that light, standing for hope and a new beginning, is not possible here. The close proximity of Greta's emotional state and the description of nature causes us to make these associations, and although nature is never described as being sad, it certainly is cooperating to set the mood of Greta's sorrow. Shakespeare himself employs this second form of the fallacy in Macbeth, King Lear, and many other plays and poems, and though it is considered by some to be fallacious under any circumstances, if employed well it can create powerful emotional effects without seeming overly contrived.

Oxymoron and Paradox

Whereas many aspects of figurative language, like simile and metaphor, are rooted in similarity, many others produce their effects based on oppositions and tensions. Oxymoron and paradox fall into the latter category, producing contrast and difference on the semantic level. What is often missed about both of these terms is that, although tension must be present in each, neither is simply an actual contradiction. Based on the way each is used, there is an apparent contradiction which is understood as such.

Beginning with the more direct and uncomplicated oxymoron, we get an excellent idea of the term's definition by examining its linguistic roots; the two halves of the word, "oxy" and "moron" come from Greek roots meaning "sharp" and "dull" (note how appropriate this is for our current use of the word "moron" as well). These terms are obviously opposites placed in close proximity, and that is a fair definition of oxymoron, except that the two terms must be placed side-by-side rather than being contained in the same word. A favorite example of this device is "jumbo shrimp." The words contain an opposition to each other, because "jumbo" indicates something large, while "shrimp" is associated with being very small (for example, if I call my boxing opponent a shrimp, it is an insult suggesting that he is too small and weak to win). However, note that the contradiction here only exists on one level; the terms themselves suggest an opposition, but the words together still make sense. A jumbo shrimp is a shrimp that happens to be very large compared to other shrimp. So, the words do make sense together, even though they seem to contradict each other.

Oxymoron is considered by some to be a sub-class of paradox, although I believe this classification leads to more confusion than unity, despite that fact that the terms do share a common root in oppositions. A paradox is an apparent contradiction that seems logically impossibly but which demands further examination, and reveals some truth on a different level of meaning. Unlike oxymoron, a paradox can be developed over a far greater length, be it a sentence or even a paragraph. George Orwell's famous novel 1984 features a great number of paradoxes, including such gems as "war means peace" and "slavery means freedom." On the surface, neither of these statements seems to make any sense, as war is considered the opposite of peace, and slavery as the opposite of freedom. However, once these oppositions are shown to be more closely related than we usually assume, we can see that the contradictions are merely apparent.

In the first example, "war means peace," we need to consider how war and peace are related to each other, and how one could lead to the other. War consists of battles and violence, certainly nothing like peace, but through warfare, it is possible that peace can be achieved. If two rival nations are constantly squabbling with each other, there is no real peace, even though there might be no official declaration of war. In this case, a large-scale war might be just the thing to thoroughly defeat one nation, and put an end to the constant unrest. Thus, war is the path to peace, and war indicates or means that peace is not far off. The second example seems equally contradictory, but it can also be seen as only an apparent contradiction. In Orwell's novel, slavery is basically the state in which the people find themselves, severely controlled and oppressed by a totalitarian government. This government believes that by enslaving the people, it frees them from natural but undesirable human emotions and failings like violence, crime, misdirected anger, and dissenting actions and thoughts. By keeping the people under an iron heel, the government states that it is making life better for everyone, freeing them from decision and worry. As is often the case with paradox, there is some irony apparent here; Orwell does not believe either of these terms or explanations is true, but by presenting the paradoxes, Orwell challenges us to decide for ourselves whether the contradiction is apparent or actual, hopefully seeing more clearly than many of the citizens of the story.

Onomatopoeia

The term onomatopoeia is such a daunting word that students almost always immediately assume that it must be a terribly difficult and complex technical term describing a linguistic and literary phenomenon that only the trained elite could hope to comprehend. However, nothing could be further from the truth, and once students understand what this large and difficult-to-spell word actually means, it usually becomes a favorite device, and provides easy points on essays and exams. It is one of the easiest "sound effects" to identify, and even children use the device on a regular basis, as it is a mainstay of nursery rhymes and children's songs.

Onomatopoeia occurs when the sound of a word attempts to emulate or at least give the impression of the sound of the thing it describes. The most obvious examples of this phenomenon occur all the time, even in comic books and jokes. When you see the word "bang!" or "pow!" you are looking at an example of onomatopoeia. Both words are an attempt to render in human language the sounds of explosion or impact. The exclamation points that usually follow such words give us a clue to this; after all, when you are telling a story to your friends that features an explosion you witnessed, it is highly unlikely that you will say "bang" in an understated and quiet manner. It is far more likely that you will say bang in a way that makes it stand out from the volume of the rest of the story, and probably even include some hand gestures to indicate the power of the event. It is obvious that the word bang does not really do justice to the sound of an explosion, no matter how small, but it does remind us of the right sound, and by saying it with increased stress, the sound of the word conveys its meaning well.

Some more subtle examples of onomatopoeia can occur in alliterated groups of words, as was briefly mentioned in a previous article on alliteration. Read the following sentence aloud and think for a moment about what sounds stand out and what impressions those sounds have on you: "The silent snake slithered slowly, searching stealthily." The repeated s sound that begins most of the words in the example sentence calls attention to itself through a high level of repetition. The sound makes the sentence more interesting on its own, but if we consider the content of the sentence, the alliterated s sound takes on an even greater significance. The sentence is about the silent slithering of a snake, and it is well known that snakes produce a sound that we most often render as a hissing sssssss. Snake characters in cartoons and movies, for example, usually speak with highly exaggerated s sounds, making them seem more snakelike even as they take on human characteristics and speech. So, the repeated s sounds reinforce the snake's presence in the sentence, and the description becomes more vivid through the use of onomatopoeia emulating the sound of the snake.

Taking this example even further, we can also see that the snake's motion is both secret and silent, which calls to mind another common example of onomatopoeia. When we desire someone to be quiet, or to keep something a secret, we often put our finger to our lips and say "shh," indicating that we want the person to remain silent. Because we are dealing with silence and secrecy in the example sentence, the s serves the dual role of reminding us of the sounds of the snake, but also of the silence and secrecy of his motion. Indeed, the sound the snake makes and the word "shh" are very similar, and through alliteration we are able to see the two concepts "snake" and "silence" combined in a way that perfectly describes the situation described in the sentence.

Irony

Although the term irony is very prevalent in popular culture today, it is nonetheless one of the most misused and misunderstood aspects of figurative language. One of the best examples of such mistaken uses of the term can be found in the widely popular song "Isn't it Ironic?" where the singer lists a series of unfortunate events, like rain on a wedding day, or being given good advice and not taking it. While all of the situations listed have undesirable outcomes, none of them actually stands up as an example of irony. In this case, the only ironic thing is that a song which has irony in the title and is supposed to be about irony actually gets irony wrong altogether.

Irony at its core is about oppositions. It is most often subdivided into three categories, situational irony, verbal irony, and dramatic irony, the first two of which are the most important and the most widely used. Situational irony occurs when the opposite of what should happen and is expected to happen actually takes place. The word opposite is stressed because it is so important to the construction of an ironic situation. As an example, suppose I tell a story where a person, say a lawyer, drowns while swimming at the beach one day. This is highly unfortunate, but there is nothing ironic in it. Even if we knew him to be a great swimmer, this does little to add to the irony of the situation. People drown all the time, and while it could be said to be unlikely, it is not the opposite of what is expected when someone goes for a swim, but rather a definite possibility.

Now, the same situation goes from merely unfortunate to completely ironic if we change the profession of the swimmer from lawyer to lifeguard. We can see that there is an opposition here between the lifeguard who is trained to swim very well and save others from drowning, and the circumstance of his drowning while out for a pleasant swim at the beach. He is the last person we would expect to find in this situation, and so it really is the opposite of what we would expect to happen. However, other subtle changes in the situation can add to or subtract from its irony. If the lifeguard were engaged in a dangerous rescue when he drowned, this would not be ironic at all; life guarding carries great risks at times, and it is to be expected that sometimes they will themselves drown in the line of duty.

Verbal irony also relies on opposites, but is usually somewhat less complex than situational irony. The most well known and popular forms of verbal irony are known as sarcasm, which is when the opposite of what is intended is said. This is often and most obviously achieved through intonation; if a child states to his parents "Oh great! I would LOVE to go get a root canal today. I am SO excited about it!" it is apparent that the child does not actually want the invasive dental procedure. He seems to be saying he would enjoy it, but this joy is so overblown and so inappropriate for the situation that we must interpret it as being ironic.

In either of the main forms of irony, context is very important, and irony cannot exist without it. For example, in the dental situation above, it is a well known social fact that almost no one enjoys root canals, since they are painful and unpleasant procedures. We also know that lifeguards are supposed to save people from drowning, and that they are professional swimmers. Without these important pieces of social information, the irony in either case would cease to exist. The irony is not a product merely of the language, as might be the case with some other figures like alliteration, but of the scene taken as a whole in a given social context.