Readers are rightly suspicious of cliché language in literature. They don’t want to be taken for fools who’ve never read the famous lines. They’ve already seen the usual techniques that writers use to pull our heartstrings. But let’s face it—pulling our heartstrings is one of the best things that a writer can do. So how does a writer evoke deep emotion without alerting the reader’s sensitive antennae for corny language?
Well, one way to use cliché language and imagery is to start by flat out admitting to your reader that you’re doing just that. You concede to your reader that they are sophisticated and aware of the tricks that writers pull out of their hats to produce emotions.
A writer who is extremely good at this is the Turkish poet Nazim Hikmet (1902–1963).
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| Nazim Hikmet |
A great example is Nazim Hikmet’s classic poem, “Falling Leaves”:
Falling Leaves
I’ve read about falling leaves in fifty thousand poems novels
and so on
watched leaves falling in fifty thousand movies
seen leaves fall fifty thousand times
fall drift and rot
felt their dead shush shush fifty thousand times
underfoot in my hands on my fingertips
but I’m still touched by falling leaves
especially those falling on boulevards
especially chestnut leaves
and if kids are around
if it’s sunny
and I’ve got good news for friendship
especially if my heart doesn’t ache
and I believe my love loves me
especially if it’s a day I feel good about people
I’m touched by falling leaves
especially those falling on boulevards
especially chestnut leaves.
6th September, 1961
Leipzig
from Poems of Nazim Hikmet, translated by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk, Persea Books
Nazim Hikmet starts by saying that there is nothing more trite than falling leaves. He admits that the image is so familiar, it’s used in the most sentimental genres, novels and movies. He lulls the reader by repeating over and over the words “falling leaves,” making it clear that he is aware of how completely stale and sentimental that image is. He even exaggerates by saying he’s seen the image “fifty thousand” times, giving the reader a chance to think, “Oh, falling leaves are not as corny as all that!” Nazim Hikmet even brings in a whole slew of other cliché images: kids playing, chestnut trees, boulevards, and true love, piling on the schmaltz like layer after layer of leaves.
So how does this poem get right to our hearts, even though it’s “as corny as Kansas in August”? After telling you he’s sick of corn, Nazim Hikmet sneaks it back in. He not only gives us the falling leaves again, but also the chestnut trees, the boulevard, and the true love, before we have a chance to realize how he’s snuck up on us and pulled our heartstrings in spite of our emotional defenses.
But there is a part of this poem that is not all sunshine and flowers:
especially if my heart doesn’t ache
and I believe my love loves me
especially if it’s a day I feel good about people
There’s a terribly poignant note here, the implication that on many days, the speaker’s heart does ache, he’s not sure his love does love him, and he doesn’t always feel good about people. That undertone of melancholy gives the poem a tinge of the bittersweet that makes the poem’s happiness a little sharper.
By tipping his hand and showing the reader what he is about to present, Nazim Hikmet ironically makes the reader more vulnerable to that content. A writer could potentially do that with any emotion that might otherwise be trite, from tragedy to comedy.
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