The Power of Descriptive Narration

By: Sean Savoie 

            Continuing our lesson about descriptive narration from last week, consider the power of story-telling itself. The power of words is quite literally beyond description (no pun intended). The very first line in the entire Bible is, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was God.” Thus begins, whether true or not, one of the most epic, descriptive, moving works of literature to survive till this day. This story has transformed people, spread to every corner of the Earth, controlled governments, established codes of ethics, and inspired everything from birth to war. In the New Testament, the second part of the Bible, the narration of the life of one man has changed all of human history. Now, keep in mind that this single man, Jesus, had no army, no weapons, no political position, nor any valuable possessions. He had, and indeed was, his word. Yes, his words had power sufficient to change civilizations. Do we have that power? Potentially, yes. Are Americans working toward clear verbal expression to assume responsibility for our present world dominance? Ummmm… Well, not really. Playing video games and knowing the problems of TV characters is infinitely cooler, right?

            Consider further the amazing power that stories, in the form of fairy tales, have had over generations of people. Whether in Europe and the Americas, China and Asia, or the many regions of the globe, extremely deep ideas have been reduced to astoundingly simple stories. The Ugly Duckling, Sleeping Beauty, The Big Bad Wolf, The Three Little Pigs, Jack and the Beanstalk, and countless other such children’s stories have shaped our view of reality. Simplicity is often the most elegant style. An old friend of mine used to say, “Infinitely simple is infinitely complex.” And I will call this old friend.

            Any dedicated parent or teacher of children and/or teenagers must be stunned at times by the ideas and associations that young people make when creating stories or thinking about stories. Any educator who is not constantly learning from their students should find a new job immediately. If this is you reading this article, please do us all a favor and quit. Though teaching, as a profession, may at times seem thankless, it is precious. My students continue to inspire and shock me; they catch me off guard. One such time occurred just this week, when a creatively inspiring, precocious new student of mine, Joanne Chang, who is studying writing at the Taiwan Center, caused me to again ponder the beauty of simple fairy tales. We were practicing the development of sentences using participial phrases and she wrote:

 “Little Red Riding Hood could not have been very intelligent if, seeing the wolf’s giant, carnivorous, snaring teeth, his long, wrinkled snout, pointed, long brown ears, and two-inch-long claws, she still did not know her grandmother was long eaten several days before Little Red Riding Hood chose to give her a visit.”

Truly classic! Coming out and expressing a basic idea that has certainly had young and old alike pondering the same exact issue, Joanne, using colorful description, has not only written a witty and well formed sentence, but also challenged the fabric of the human condition. Namely, how is it that people can look straight at danger, whether it be cocaine abuse, war, or merely an outright political lie, and not see something for what it truly is? In creating imagery in writing, the writer challenges or hooks the reader into an idea by making it visual; by appealing to the physical senses that we have, the reader, if not as dim as Little Red Riding Hood, comes to the conclusion or main issue through experience. Herein lies the power of descriptive narration.

So, we best now examine what techniques allow a writer of any type to capture the imagination of the reader. Last week I discussed the use of clear action verbs that involve the setting, as opposed to boring a reader with extensive description of the setting. Now consider another favorite of mine: the use of the five physical senses to tap into the past experience of the reader. Seeing, hearing, touching, smelling, and tasting, if a person has these faculties, all seem to reside in a mental folder in the brain. If the depiction of a certain sense stimulates the reader into opening that memory file, a connection is made between the written word and the experience of the reader. And then, Wham! The reader is there!

Allow yourself the opportunity to get inside of the space described below. Do not attempt to see and feel what I do; rather, let your active imagination move to some memory of your own. 

A humble example of mine (please be gentle with me): 

The once shiny brass key hole was now tanned light brown with a noble, withered age. It had been quite long since Jim, his face now longer and sagging, had been in the room. The familiar click, like the cocking of a gun, confirmed that his jagged key could still open the door, its paint since chipped in the corners. Everything appeared to be just a touch smaller and fragile. His mom still lived here and all the aromas of home assailed him immediately: fresh laundry, with that oddly pleasant warmth, a faint smell of bleach and dishwashing detergent, the distinctly musty smell of a sofa long past its time. He moved dreamily to the sofa, a breeze from the kitchen giving him a slight October chill as he passed the kitchen entrance. It was not the kitchen that sparked his memory, but rather the living room. All the bitter arguments and laughter, games and teasing that had occurred here! The colors of everything seemed somehow faded, as in a slightly old movie. He sat. The springs of the sofa dropped him deeper into this chair of his childhood much farther than he expect, and, looking around slowly, a smile came to his dry mouth; not the smile of joy, but rather one of content with sadness and mild regret, when the corners of the mouth curve down just a bit. He heard the old grandfather clock strike three and knew that he was really home.