Word Usage

By Arget Hackslayer

I. The Thesaurus

Upon reading Eragon and Eldest, a common observation regarding Paolini’s word usage is made—that is, it seems like he wrote with a thesaurus in one hand. The words he uses are large and often out-of-context, and jar the reader from the flow of the story.

Fans refute this by saying, “Chris just has a large vocabulary…don’t blame him if you can’t keep up.”

I think that Stephen King said it best:

“Put your vocabulary on the top shelf of your toolbox, and don't make any conscious effort to improve it. (You'll be doing that as you read, of course ... but that comes later.) One of the really bad things you can do to your writing is to dress up the vocabulary, looking for long words because you're maybe a little bit ashamed of your short ones. This is like dressing up a household pet in evening clothes. The pet is embarrassed and the person who committed this act of premeditated cuteness should be even more embarrassed. Make yourself a solemn promise right now that you'll never use "emolument" when you mean "tip" and you'll never say John stopped long enough to perform an act of excretion when you mean John stopped long enough to take a shit. If you believe "take a shit" would be considered offensive or inappropriate by your audience, feel free to say John stopped long enough to move his bowels (or perhaps John stopped long enough to "push"). I'm not trying to get you to talk dirty, only plain and direct. Remember that the basic rule of vocabulary is use the first word that comes to your mind, if it is appropriate and colorful. If you hesitate and cogitate, you will come up with another word-of course you will, there's always another word-but it probably won't be as good as your first one, or as close to what you really mean.

This business of meaning is a very big deal. If you doubt it, think of all the times you've heard someone say "I just can't describe it" or "That isn't what I mean." Think of all the times you've said those things yourself, usually in a tone of mild or serious frustration. The word is only a representation of the meaning; even at its best, writing almost always falls short of full meaning. Given that, why in God's name would you want to make things worse by choosing a word which is only cousin to the one you really wanted to use?”

(Stephen King’s On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft)

Paolini is clearly guilty of doing just what King advises against, and it shows. I present to you a table of words which, given the context that they are in, make it seem as though Paolini picked them from a thesaurus.

 

Word	Book	Page Number	Times Used
Autonomous	Eldest	Xiv	1
Transmutes	Eldest	Xv	1
Troubadour	Eragon	34-36	6
Gambol	Eldest	461	1
Effulgence	Eldest	603	1
Ululation	Eldest	416, 607	2
Bivouac	Eldest	575, 609	3
Quagmire	Eldest	334, 336	3
Assimilate	Eldest	7, 541	2
Crenulated	Eldest	74, 574	2
Instinctually	Eldest	11	1
Impassivity	Eldest	371	1
Devolved	Eldest	371
Redolent	Eldest	372	1
Oblique	Eldest	394	1
Abrading	Eldest	444	1
Vociferous	Eldest	476	1
Prodigious	Eldest	506, 508	2
Prodigious	Eragon	324	1
Acrimonious	Eldest	527	1
Quatrain	Eldest	554	1
Circumspect	Eldest	586	1
Malodorous	Eldest	594	1
Mephitic	Eldest	623	1
Widdershins	Eldest	636	1
Vermillion	Eldest	639	1
Repudiate	Eldest	654	1
Insensate	Eldest	52	1
Percolated	Eldest	133	1
Cabochons	Eldest	136	1
Tenebrous	Eldest	374	1
Diaphanous	Eldest	239	1
Equanimity	Eldest	129	1
Phantasm	Eldest	574	1
Undulating	Eldest	468, 577	2
Inexorable	Eldest	468	1
Concordance	Eldest	468	1
Incandescent	Eldest	469	1
Allocate	Eldest	319	1
Inundate	Eldest	320	1
Insoluble	Eldest	322	1
Quandary	Eldest	322	1
Systematically	Eldest	317	1
Striated	Eldest	567	1
Globules	Eldest	570, 344	2
Conflagrations	Eldest	88, 570	2
Continuum	Eldest	576	1
Concentric	Eldest	576	1
Provender	Eldest	579	1
Noxious	Eldest	579	1
Panoply	Eldest	581	1
Veritable	Eldest	588	1
Eschewed	Eldest	103	1
Elucidated	Eldest	115	1
Cupola	Eldest	117	1
Hyperrealism	Eldest	118	1
Purvey	Eldest	119	1
Quay	Eldest	123	1
Ameliorated	Eldest	344	1
Greensward	Eldest	354	1
Chary	Eldest	356	1
Alarum	Eldest	359	1
Vestibule	Eldest	366	1
Dolorous	Eldest	366	1
Quaff	Eldest	368	1
Bucolic	Eldest	368	1
Ephemeral	Eldest	203	1
Decentralized	Eldest	538	1
Eke	Eldest	540	1
Soporific	Eldest	96	1
Subsumed	Eldest	85	1

(Thanks to Quenbolyn, Famulu, Jenil, Confusedcious, and KittytheRandom from the AS livejournal community for their contributions)

Many of these words, in and of themselves, are not bad words, but, because they are surrounded by other uncommon, archaic, or just plain long words, they become noticeably out-of-place.

Take, for example, the following passage, from Eldest, page 554:

“…the first glyph of each quatrain.”

I applaud Mr. Paolini for his command of the technical word for a 4-line stanza; however, how many people in his target audience (10-15 year olds) will know what a quatrain is?

Further, why does he see the need to use, “glyph,” instead of, “letter,”?

Again: his target audience is children, not college professors. To tell a story, an author needs to know not only which word has the technical definition, but also which word will most effectively convey to his readers what he is trying to say.

II. Pseudo-Archaic Language

This features prominently in Inheritance—more so in Eldest than in Eragon. Paolini inserts archaic words in the hope of achieving an elevated level of diction, a la Lord of the Rings, or A Wizard of Earthsea. I find it irritating to read a book that contains all of the following passages—

“It is an honor to have you as mine kin.”

(Eldest, pg. 638)

“Of the Riders of eld, only Oromis and Glaedr remain.”

(Eldest, pg. 467)

“It was all for naught.”

(Eldest, pg. 342)

—in conjunction with these:

“The figures and objects stood in relief from the surface, giving the panorama a feeling of hyperrealism.”

(Eldest, pg. 28)

“Define normal.”

(Eldest, pg. 28)

“The long branches wept beads of moisture, translucent cabochons that reflected the rows of anxious eyes.”

(Eldest, pg. 136)

“Eragon went rigid as incandescent heat poured through his body…”

(Eldest, pg. 469)

You see, this messes up the consistency and flow of the story. On one hand, we have archaic prose, and on the other, we have modern colloquialisms and words that have a definitely modern flavor.

This is especially irritating when the book’s prequel had less of such language. No characters said, “Aye,” or, “Thee,” or, “Thine,” or other such words in Eragon, yet these things abound in Eldest; it also becomes a nuisance when common characters begin speaking like kings and noble characters begin speaking like paupers.

Orson Scott Card had this to say on the subject:

“When fantasists are writing about people of high station living in heroic times, a more formal, elevated level of diction is called for...However, there is a great danger in trying for elevated diction-primarily because it's so easy to overdo it or do it very badly. You have to read a lot of brilliantly written formal prose before you're able to handle it well—and there isn't much of it being written today. LeGuin and Gene Wolfe are the two most reliable sources of that level of diction today.

Here is the same scene, two ways:

Sevora read the letter, showing no emotion as she did. Tyvell only realized something was wrong when the letter slipped from her fingers and she took a single hesitant step towards him. He caught her before she could fall to the floor.

He laid her gently on the thick floor before the hearth, then sent his dwarf to fetch the surgeon. Before help arrived, however, she opened her eyes.

"The surgeon is coming," Tyvell said, gently holding her hand.

"Read the letter", she whispered. "Lebbech has destroyed me".

And then we have this:

Sevora perused the missive, displaying none of the turmoil of her feelings on her impassive, stonelike face. Tyvell only became aware of the tumult within her when she let fall the curled parchment and staggered towards him. With the utmost hurry, he caught her in his arms before her delicate frame could strike the stone floor.

Gently he laid her on the pliant bearskin before the merrily dancing flames on the hearth, then sent Crimmond, his astonished and frightened dwarf to fetch the cirugeon. Before the diminuitive servant's abbreviated stride could bring the desired aid, however, Sevora resumed conciousness and her eyes fluttered open.

"Worry not," said Tyvell, stroking the smooth, white skin of her hand. "I have sent for the cirugeon."

"I need him not," whispered Sevora. "How can I be holpen now by his herberies? Nay, even his knife shall not serve me in my present need. Under the hideous spells of Lebbech I now lie destroyed."

The first example is clearly meant to be taken seriously as a tale of highborn people caught up in heroic events. The second example is trying too hard. There is no grace in a surfeit of adjectives, and high language doesn't consist of using twisted "poetic" syntax and needlessly anachronisms like "holpen" and "cirurgeon". Elegance requires simplicity and clarity.”

Fairly self-explanatory, but, as with above, here is a table of archaic words that I felt were out of context:

Word	Book	Page Number	Times Used
Morn	Eldest	394	1
Whereof	Eldest	395	1
Eld	Eldest	467	1
Fey	Eldest	213, 459, 473, 385	4
Naught	Eldest	10, 342	2
Thou	Eldest	102, 368	5
Art	Eldest	102	1
Beget	Eldest	349	1
Mine	Eldest	78, 573, 638, 368, 111, 144, 171, 367	12
Naught	Eldest	10, 342	19
Thine	Eldest	144	1
Aye	Eldest	36, 38, 72, 81, 103, 110, 119, 129, 138, 141, 166, 192, 203, 204, 22, 236, 264, 271, 273, 296, 303, 329, 341, 348, 362, 367, 378, 381, 427, 428, 439, 444, 452, 472, 482, 487, 489, 493, 495, 500, 501, 504, 506, 517, 523, 548, 550, 562, 564, 571, 575, 585, 587, 595, 608, 618, 622, 635, 657, 658, 659, 663, 666, 668

 

Out-of-context Words

This is more of a corollary to points one and two, but it bears further explanation. Thus far, I have produced little proof to back my assertions. People may say, “All you’ve done is prove that Paolini has a good vocabulary; why insist that he must be addicted to his thesaurus?”

The answer is simple, ladies and gentlemen. It is called context.

You see, synonyms don’t always mean exactly the same thing—they may be similar, but most of the time, they have subtle differences. There are also things like connotation and flow and whatnot; these things give words a unique flavor, and render them inappropriate in certain situations.

Paolini’s words are often painful in this respect. Reading through Eldest was like forcing a puzzle piece to fit where it shouldn’t. It may look similar enough at a glance, but it just doesn’t fit.

And, again, many of the words he uses are technically correct, but they jar the reader out of the story anyway because they don’t fit with the rest of the prose—similar to how his archaic prose doesn’t mesh with his modern prose. In fact, much of the time, the words he uses (such as, “assimilated.”) don’t fit for just that reason—they don’t fit in with the world, which is clearly a medieval-esque world, and the rest of his prose, which is nconsistent enough as it is.

An example of this would be:

“..fermented orange light…”

(Eldest, pg. 603)

The closest definition found in Merriam Webster’s dictionary is:

“To be in a state of agitation or intense activity.”

Even that description doesn’t mesh with a simple sunset, which is not in a state of agitation or intense activity. It works at a stretch, but just barely—much like the puzzle piece I mentioned earlier.