Adverbs

An Element of Fiction

If you think adjectives have been maligned over the years, adverbs have fared even worse. Most writers and critics abhor them, and I believe often for good reason.

Still, they are a part of our language for a reason. They exist to provide nuance to verbs the same way adjectives provide nuance to nouns.

John Gardner, the legendary teacher of creative writing, sometimes even cheers the adverb on, as he does here, “In ‘Wilson, in his chair, rocks slowly and conscientiously’, the adverb conscientiously startles the scene alive… Adverbs are either the dullest tools or the sharpest in the novelist’s toolbox.”

William Sloan is more critical, “Adverbs are another indication of writing failure. Exactly the right verb can eliminate the need for the adverb.”

Still, there is the nuance question. Yes, some verbs come nuanced out of the box, but many of them have to be fitted and tailored properly to supply deeper detail.

That said, take heed and, according to Strunk and White, “Omit needless words. Watch for adverbs that merely repeat the meaning of the verb.”

William Zinsser agrees, “Most adverbs are unnecessary… Again and again, in careless writing, strong verbs are weakened by redundant adverbs.”

Stephen King does not keep his adverbial dislike a secret, “I believe the road to hell is paved with adverbs, and I will shout it from the rooftops.”

Kingsley Amis concurs, if less drastically, “If you are using an adverb, you have got the verb wrong.”

Henry James, on the other hand, begs to differ, “I adore adverbs; they are the only qualifications I really much respect.”

How about this mini-lecture courtesy of Anton Chekhov, “Cross out as many adjectives and adverbs as you can… It is comprehensible when I write: ‘The man sat on the grass,’ because it is clear and does not detain one’s attention. On the other hand, it is difficult to figure out and hard on the brain if I write: ‘The tall, narrow-chested man of medium height and with a red beard sat down on the green grass that had already been trampled down by the pedestrians, sat down silently, looking around timidly and fearfully.’ The brain can’t grasp all that at once, and art must be grasped at once, instantaneously.”

And do heed Elmore Leonard’s advice, “Never use an adverb to modify the verb ‘said’… as in ‘he admonished gravely.’ To use an adverb this way (or almost any way) is a mortal sin. The writer is now exposing himself in earnest, using a word that distracts and can interrupt the rhythm of the exchange.”

Me, I believe that it’s down to the writer’s judgment (and, of course, his or her vocabulary). The writer who doesn’t know the precisely nuanced verb of course cannot use it and will be forced to use an adverb.

Let me add this though, if a reasonably educated writer does not know the nuanced verb, chances are that the reader will not know it either — so coming in with an unusual, or not often encountered precise verb that sends readers scurrying for the dictionary or some lighter reading, might be a double-edged sword.

In other words, good judgment, is I believe (as in most things) the answer.

Let me end this adverbial dissection with a beauty from Frank Wonder, “Frankly, I wonder who Frank was, and why he has an adverb all to himself.”

© Wolfstuff

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