Joseph Benedetto is the author of the “Fifth Precinct” series of mystery stories, and in addition to being a writer and a journalist, he’s also worked at jobs ranging from short-order cook to security operative for the Pinkerton Agency. A member of the Mystery Writers of America, he writes both mystery and speculative fiction and has served as a Writing Mentor in the MWA/New York Chapter.

I’ll be back next week with a report on the California Crime Writers Conference, hopefully with an audio podcast of Melodie’s and my presentation.

—JLW

“THIS IS IMPORTANT,” HE EXPOSTULATED

by J. F. Benedetto

In 1852, the physician Peter Mark Roget published a book that would go on to have a terrific impact on writers of American English: Thesaurus of English Words and Phrases Classified and Arranged so as to Facilitate the Expression of Ideas and Assist in Literary Composition. (They shortened the title considerably in the later editions, but it’s still a great book.)

He wasn’t the first person to compile a volume of words and their synonyms–that distinction probably belongs to Philo of Byblos, the Jewish philosopher who lived around the time of Christ—but Roget is certainly the most well-known.

One of Roget’s competitors over the years was the editor Jerome Irving Rodale, whose opus “The Synonym Finder” is still regarded by many as equal to, if not better than, Roget’s Thesaurus. (Myself, I prefer Roget’s Desk Thesaurus, but that’s just me.) The reason I bring up Mr. Rodale is the fact that in 1947 he teamed up with Mabel Mulock, the head of the Allentown, Pennsylvania High School English Department, and gave the world a book that would have an equally notable impact on writers of American English: The “SAID” BOOK.

You’ve probably heard of this tome, referred to obliquely via the term “a said book-ism”, but it’s not likely you’ve ever seen this volume in the flesh. Kevin Andrew Murphy referred to it as “a book that has passed into legend … Rather like the Necronomicon, but more perilous and less accessible.” While copies are known to exist, they are few and far between. I myself own one of the “reprinted 1948 with corrections” copies complete with the original dust jacket, and I count myself lucky to have found on it. (Being a wordsmith by trade, I find such oddities of writing to be a fascinating part of the craft. I’m strange that way.)

But what is a “said book-ism”? Simply put, it’s a verb that is used to avoid using the word “said.” The act is known as “tagging” the dialogue: letting the reader know who is saying the text marked off by the quotation marks. Said is a tagword, and it’s just about invisible to the reader. A said book-ism, in the other hand, is a tag that is the exact opposite: it stands out to the reader. You’re seen them before:

“I know who you really are!” he articulated.

“How could you know that?” she argued.

“I was behind the curtains!” he explained.

“Oh, I knew you were there all the time,” she cooed.

Rodale’s book is an exhaustive collection for such gems. It also includes the ever-hilarious “he ejaculated” and adds nearly thirty adverbial constructions for it, including “he ejaculated joyfully”, “he ejaculated passionately,” “he ejaculated piously” and of course “he ejaculated sententiously”. Now, if that last one doesn’t make you sound ed-juh-muh-cated, I don’t know what will.

Rodale’s book obviously filled a niche at the time, because it went on to influence an entire generation of writers who were looking to make their writing stand out. And even today, most Romance novels use said book-isms quite liberally. But then, why would any writer bother with a boring “he said” when he could use “he pontificated” instead? Certainly, that makes your work sound better, yes?

The problem, of course, is obvious to anyone who has ever waded through a slush pile: used once or twice in a story, a said book-ism can be a striking addition to the text. Used in each and every sentence, it just grates on the eye. I once had to critique a flash fiction story in which the author never used the word “said” even once, but in the space of two pages used no less than 17 different synonyms for it. I cannot to this day tell you what the story’s plot was, because I quickly stopped reading and instead could only see each new said book-ism.

But really, how can you be expected to concentrate on the story when it reads like this:

“You say you first stopped at a coffee shop?” Tom inquired.

“That’s right,” Paul declared. “Victor’s, over on Third,” he amended. “I was there for about an hour,” he insisted.

“Why did you come over here today?” Tom challenged.

“She called me,” he parried.

“That’s a lie!” his sister protested. “Mom called me last night!” she disclosed.

Ouch.

The reason we see so much of this turning up in slush piles today is that elementary and high school teachers all over America tell their students to eliminate said in all cases possible, in order to make their writing “more exciting” and (dare I repeat this aloud) “more professional.”

The reason they do this is simple. This is the advice they themselves got from their teachers, who in turn learned it back in the day when it was the norm to eschew said for the multitude of synonyms that Rodale and Mulock compiled in their happy little volume. The reality today, however, is that “said” is almost invisible, and unless you are slopping it on with a trowel, it’s going to go unnoticed, leaving the reader to focus on the dialogue, rather than on how dramatically it was said.

That’s another problem with a said book-ism: too many of them make your characters sound melodramatic, too over-the-top to be taken seriously. And then there is the fact that a lot of said book-isms are just physically impossible to actually do. You cannot “smile” a line (“She’s done for!” he smiled) nor can you hiss a sentence devoid of an “s” (“Take that!” he hissed) nor can you frown a phrase (“I don’t understand,” he frowned). If you run across one that makes you wonder if it can actually be done (such as “he frowned”), just play stage director and ask yourself aloud: “Would you ‘frown’ that line for me, please?”

So, said book-isms are bad; most editors will tell you that. But like most everything, sometimes they’re necessary to let the reader know the actual way the line is meant to be heard (“How wonderful to see you here,” she lied). In fact, a said book-ism can even be a treat … if used sparingly. It’s only when they become truly noticeable that they become truly unwelcome.

Just try and convince your eighth-grade English teacher if that, though.