In the third act, Hamlet tells his company of actors how he wants their lines delivered. Speak the speech, he says, as I pronounced it to you, “trippingly on the tongue.”

It is sound advice not only for actors but also for writers. Our readers may appear to be reading only with their eyes; they also are reading with their inner ears. It is not required that we master the rhythms of classic poetry, but if we want to write tuxedo prose, we ought first to read our stuff aloud and iron out the wrinkles. Cadence counts.

Example: A couple of years ago a movie critic reviewed “Analyze This,” with Billy Crystal and Robert DeNiro. The critic wasn’t much impressed. “This movie,” he said, “has more loose ends than a garage sale cardigan.”

It was a felicitous image, but it did not fall trippingly from the tongue. The critic had dragooned a double noun (garage sale) to modify another noun (cardigan). In the process a splendid simile lost some of its pizzazz. The effect could have been restored by a nod to cadence: “This movie has more loose ends than a cardigan in a garage sale.”

The most gifted sportswriter in the country is Rick Reilly of Sports Illustrated. I have quoted him many times in praising the “good stuff.” But he too fell into the snare of the adjectival noun in writing about coach Phil Jackson of the Los Angeles Lakers. The gist of the story was that the Lakers’ star player, Shaq O’Neal, might leave the team if Jackson quit. In that event, “L.A. could be leaving more titles on the table than a DMV clerk.”

Good line, but two extra words would have made it better: “L.A. could be leaving more titles on the table than a clerk at the DMV.”

The New York Times carried an editorial on May 16 about Sen. George Voinovich of Ohio. On April 27 the senator had objected to federal borrowing beyond $350 billion, chiefly because of the burden this additional debt would impose upon a generation yet to come. The Times thought the senator was being unreal: “What is real is the burden that last night’s Senate action will add to all those children and grandchildren he was so concerned about a couple of weeks back.”

“A couple of weeks back”? Let me recur to a conviction I have often expressed: In a short piece, such as an editorial, an introduction or a letter to the editor, the last syllable counts. An effective device is to end on a long vowel or diphthong. This is no big deal. The Times’ editorial would have had a better kicker by amending the line: “… the grandchildren he was so concerned about just 19 days ago.”

These are matters of a writer’s ear – and heaven knows my ear is not infallible. I’ve reached often enough for b- natural and hit b-flat instead. All I’m suggesting is that if we are trying to write purty, we should keep in mind not just the sense of a sentence, but its swing and sound as well.

James Kilpatrick is a syndicated columnist.

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