You've seen or heard it, I'm sure, but have you noticed it? Everyone is talking
about or promoting the "best," the "most," the
"newest," the "craziest," etc., often using different
phrases to communicate the same idea. We seem to have a never-ending
desire to one-up. Our collective quest for the next "-est"
consumes a lot of our conscious time, but it simultaneously is limiting the
richness of our lives.
What do I mean by this?
Like so many other things in our lives,
this is a little bit complicated.
These superlatives—words indicating the
"highest quality," "supreme," or "extreme" of
something—abound in our day-to-day language, both verbal and written.
They're so ubiquitous, in fact, that we don't notice how often we hear or
use these words. It's kind of like Californians’ use of the word
"like": to Californians, it's not noticeable at all, just part
of how we talk, while to those from outside the Golden State, it's obnoxious.
Because these words have become so
overused, we've developed new words and phrases to help us one-up the old
superlatives. So, we now have phrases like "to the fullest" or
"to the extreme" or "so amazing" or "just
fabulous." The problem isn't with the words themselves. They,
like all other words in our language, have an appropriate time and place for
use. The problem that I have noticed is that people are using these words
when they can't think of anything more profound or interesting to say. We
say things like "I like to live life to the fullest" instead of something
like "I like to savor every moment of the life I have been given, sucking
the juice of life from every fiber of everything I do" or "I
like to live my life spending as much time with my family (or insert nature,
friends, music--whatever) as I can so that I will build a life of meaningful
memories" or some other fresher, more accurate, more meaningful phrase.
Part of this is that we live in a sound-bite culture in which we perceive
brevity as more desirable; part of this also is that we are losing the richness
of the intricate language we have developed. As a result, our
contemporary language has become cliché, and we, when we use these words
without thinking more deeply about what it is we're saying, have become boring.
Further, when we seek only the best or most of something, we fail to
acknowledge or appreciate the shades of gray created by those things that don't
rise to the level of the best or most. There are a lot of wonderful
things going on that are not of the highest quality in the strictest of senses,
but nonetheless provide enormous enjoyment, insight, and enrichment for many
people. Our appreciation of those goings-on should not be limited because
they haven't risen to the level of best or most; we shouldn't ignore these
events or people just because they don't rise to the level of best or most.
What we identify as best or most is incredibly
subjective anyway. What I think is fantastic someone else (who may or may
not have more knowledge or experience) may think is awful. The criteria
we use to distinguish the good from the bad is subjective, too, again often
depending on experience or knowledge of the event, person, or object. As
a writer and as the daughter of an artist, I can recognize that there is a
certain amount of objectivity we can use to assess or judge the merits of
anything. I can talk about diction, flow, story arc, characterization,
and the artist can talk about composition, color choice, shading and lighting.
Virtually anything we assess has fairly concrete, identifiable characteristics
or hallmarks. However, the ultimate goal of the written word and art and
music and performance—indeed anything humans create—is the emotion and memories
they evoke, the push and pull of feelings they provoke, the excitement they
elicit, the insights they procure.
I am not espousing an appreciation of
mediocrity. I am suggesting we become more discerning about what deserves
the superlatives, what deserves our attention and applause, and what deserves
better language than we have used to describe it. Thoughtfulness is what
I'm after. Freshness of description is what I seek. A renewed
interest in the purposeful, meaningful use of our communication tools is what I
want.
While I don't for one minute expect people
to walk around in 2014 speaking to one another like Shakespeare or George Eliot
or Charlotte Brontë or Charles Dickens (although that would be WONDERFUL), I
would revel in originality of descriptive speech that is more appropriate and
attuned to the discussions created by that language about the things we discuss
or describe. Clichés are initially interesting because we recognize them,
but they are cliché because they are boring. Let's not be boring; let's
appreciate the whole gamut of possibilities and avoid—whenever possible—the one-up
game. Illustration by Peter Schrenk
Source:
"Plus ça Change? Not Quite." The Economist. The Economist Newspaper, 11 Aug. 2007. Web. 03 July 2014.
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