Create, Narrate, Punctuate | Ramy Tadros | Copyright © 2014 Proton Writing Consultants Pty Ltd. All rights reserved. —10—
Mould left-, mid-, and right-branching sentences
T
he terms "left" and "right" carry certain connotations in politics, rallying brainwashed partisans who
identify with abstract ideologies, sometimes even dying or killing for these worthless political
theories. In the world of writing, literature, and composition, such terms hold different and moreconcrete meanings. We, being writers, wishing to advance the power of the pen rather than the sword, should
naturally concern ourselves with this second interpretation.
Turning to this chapter's first sentence, to its hook, we find an example of a right-branching sentence. Moving
along to the second sentence, we stumble on an example of a left-branching sentence. Finishing finally with the
third sentence of the opening paragraph, we come across an example of a mid-branching sentence. In fact, every
preceding sentence, including this one, displays some sort of branching, whether left, middle, or right. And
one sentence even exhibits all three types of branching.
So have you been able to solve the riddle of the branching sentence and figure out what this term means?
To answer this question, we need to recall chapter three, where we learnt about how to grow our
sentences in three basic ways. Branching involves the third way—the phrase-filled way—of growing our
sentences and propagating our propositions. For phrases can sprout up to the left, or to the right, or in the
middle of a sentence's main clause. Hence, left-branching, right-branching, and mid-branching sentences. But
because the main clause forms the base, the trunk, from where phrasal branches spread their words, we must
first identify this foundation if we wish to master sentence branching.
Returning to this chapter's first sentence, we can easily locate the main clause: The terms "left" and "right"
carry certain connotations in politics.1 From this main clause, we can "branch out", adding more details, attaching
further propositions in the form of phrases. In the opening sentence, two phrases branch out from the main
clause—and to the right of the main clause. The first is rallying brainwashed partisans who identify with abstract
ideologies; the second, sometimes even dying or killing for these worthless political theories. Although the first rightbranching phrase modifies the main clause, the second right-branching phrase modifies the first phrase, not
the main clause. (Sometimes even dying or killing for these worthless political theories provides more information about
the brainwashed supporters who appear in the first phrase.) So phrases can pile up, one on top of the other,
modifying the main clause or other phrases. Yet regardless of what they modify, if these phrases branch out
to the right of the main clause, like this chapter's first sentence, then we label it a right-branching sentence.
Progressing now to this chapter's second sentence, we can identify the following main clause: such terms
hold different and more-concrete meanings. But what precedes this main clause? What branches out to the left of this
main clause? A phrase. A left-branching phrase: In the world of writing, literature, and composition. And this leftbranching phrase modifies such terms, the complete subject of the main clause.
Lastly, we arrive at this chapter's third sentence, where things get slightly trickier. For something has
cleaved the main clause into two parts, disguising the sentence's foundation, its trunk, and splitting the
1
A main clause, sometimes known as a base clause or an independent clause, can stand alone as a complete sentence, since
it contains a subject and a predicate.
1
Create, Narrate, Punctuate | Ramy Tadros | Copyright © 2014 Proton Writing Consultants Pty Ltd. All rights reserved. subject away from its predicate. And what has perpetrated this violent act? Two phrases. Two mid-branching
phrases. The first: being writers. The second: wishing to advance the power of the pen rather than the sword. And even
though both phrases modify We, the subject, they also tear it away from its complete predicate, should naturally
concern ourselves with this second interpretation. Combining subject with predicate, and removing both phrases, we
can finally piece together the main clause: We … should naturally concern ourselves with this second interpretation. So
when phrases spring up in the middle of a main clause, splitting up its different parts, we label this type of
construction a mid-branching sentence.2
Left-branching, mid-branching, right-branching sentences—all help shape a uniquely manicured piece,
allowing authors to prune their sentences into endless formations, adding colour, variety, and fullness to
writing.
And without phrase-filled sentences, the third way of cultivating one's work, authors would be limited to
using either simple sentences (the first way of growing a sentence) or conjunction-rich sentences (the second
way of growing a sentence). Although both these techniques can promote alluringly clear and liquid prose,
phrase-filled sentences can add texture, specific details, and a deeply refined finish, prompting one's
propositions to ebb and flow, to move forwards and backwards, and then to glide backwards and forwards.
Great novelists, those who craft classic literature, know of this artistic writing skill—and they know how and
when to apply it to their piece.
In chapter two I asked you to research infinitive phrases, prepositional phrases, gerund phrases, and participial
phrases, which we explored in the previous chapter. I chose these four kinds of phrases for a reason.
Wordsmiths weave these phrases, in particular, into their writing to create different forms of branching
sentences. You, too, should use these phrases—their strength, variety, and versatility—to nurture leftbranching, mid-branching, and right-branching sentences in your writing. And then you and your readers will
savour, and profit from, the fruits of your toil—regardless of whether they have been plucked from "the left"
or "the right" branch.
Research & write
10.a. Know your branches
Before mastering left-, mid-, and right-branching sentences, writers need to learn how to recognise them.
Study each sentence below, identifying which one branches to the left, to the right, or in the middle. Try to
draw each sentence's branch structure, using the following diagrams as a guide:
phrase——MAIN CLAUSE = left-branching sentence
MAIN CLAUSE——phrase = right-branching sentence
MAIN——phrase——CLAUSE = mid-branching sentence
Many of the sentences below may also display more than one form of branching, perhaps even exhibiting all
three, whereas others may have none. If sentences do contain more than one phrase, then your diagrams
should display more than one branch. For instance, this sentence contains two phrases (each one underlined):
As an alternative to fiat currencies, gold bullion is a safe investment, being free from government manipulation.
2
Besides separating a subject from its predicate, phrases can also splinter a main clause after an object, or any other clausal
part, producing a similar mid-branching growth.
2
Create, Narrate, Punctuate | Ramy Tadros | Copyright © 2014 Proton Writing Consultants Pty Ltd. All rights reserved. One phrase comes before the main clause (the italicised text) and the other phrase after the main clause. So
the sentence has a left branch and a right branch, and the diagram would look like this:
phrase——MAIN CLAUSE——phrase = left-branching, right-branching sentence
Now, it is your turn to identify and draw each sentence's branching.
1. Swimming across the bay, the man drowned.
2. The wolf spotted his prey, hiding in a bush.
3. Lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment, the leopard suddenly pounced on the baby gazelle.
4. My laptop, a cheap piece of trash, finally stopped working.
5. I love spicy food, but it gives me tummy troubles.
6. In a blink of an eye, they had drunk all the vodka.
7. To write or not to write, that is the question.
8. For many animal species, extinction has become a real threat.
9. Singing a tune, the girl skipped across the park, narrowly avoiding being stung by an angry bee.
10. The polar bear attacked the walrus.
11. Bruised and drained, the soldier advanced, inch by inch, step by step, towards his goal, a bridge connecting the
mainland to the enemy's headquarters on Rambo Island.
12. To sing like a star, you must practise every day, sacrificing other activities and ignoring your friends' requests to
go out for a drink.
13. We need to find our way to shelter, to avoid being drenched by the approaching storm.
14. Seizing the moment, Luke aimed his speargun—loaded with an explosive head—at the tiger shark passing
peacefully by a bombora.
15. Tea (whether green, black, or white) contains polyphenols and other health-promoting nutrients.
10.b. Use left-branching sentences to build momentum
Each type of sentence branching (left, middle, right) serves a purpose. Experienced authors occasionally—
very occasionally—use piled-up left-branching sentences to build suspense or momentum.
Have a look at the left-branching sentence below, which is copied from Leonard Woolf: A Biography,3
written by Victoria Glendinning. The main clause, housing the main verb or the sentence's foundation,
appears after three participial phrases, each one building suspense and adding progressive details, until we
finally get to the punchline. To make it clearer, I have italicised the main clause and underlined the three
participles planted at the start of each phrase:
Looking back at the age of eighty-eight over the fifty-seven years of my political work in England, knowing what I
aimed at and the results, meditating on the history of Britain and the world since 1914, I see clearly that I achieved
practically nothing.
Now, read this famous left-branching sentence from "Jingle Bells", written by James Lord Pierpont. (Even
though this example also contains a right-branching phrase, it fails to change the sentence's left-branched
domination.) Like Woolf's sentence, the main clause—the sentence's foundation—emerges after three
phrases, each one increasing the momentum, advancing the writing, and progressing the piece by adding
3
For readers unfamiliar with the name, Leonard Woolf was a civil servant, a political theorist, and the husband of Virginia
Woolf, who was a famous author. I thank The New Yorker for pointing out this fine example of a left-branching sentence.
3
Create, Narrate, Punctuate | Ramy Tadros | Copyright © 2014 Proton Writing Consultants Pty Ltd. All rights reserved. specific details. Despite lacking the punchline of Woolf's suspenseful sentence, this line from "Jingle Bells"
nonetheless creates a snowballing effect, and you can feel yourself dashing forwards as you read (sing) it. To
make its structure clearer, I have italicised the main clause and underlined each left-branching phrase, but I
have not underlined the lone right-branching phrase at the end:
Dashing through the snow,
In a one-horse open sleigh,
O'er the fields we go,
Laughing all the way.
Having highlighted the strength of left-branching sentences, I must give a caution: if they are misused, or
overused, you will bore, alienate, or infuriate your audience. For instance, the following left-branching
sentence refuses to get to the point, flustering any reader trying to finish it; like before, I have underlined the
first word of each phrase and italicised the main clause:
In the fading light, under the mossy ruins of a fallen willow, hoping against hope that she would show up dressed in
that red sundress that hugged her curves, praying he wouldn't fumble as he reached for the ring in his pocket, Jason
sat.4
What an anticlimax! All that fluff and melodrama. All that hoping and praying. And for what? For Jason sat?
In a similar vein the following third-person corporate bio, taken from one of my former students, shows
how left-branching sentences can turn into a corporate disaster when they are poorly exploited:
Finishing a university bachelor degree with honours, and completing a master degree with an additional research
component, Daniela Greenfield [her name has been changed] then moved into finance. Having worked for several
years at one of the largest and most respected finance corporations in the world and having travelled extensively
during this time, being seconded to a number of different offices around the globe, and performing exceptionally
well and above all expectations in all assigned roles, she then decided to pursue her passion for economics. Studying
once again at Sydney's most prestigious university, being offered a scholarship, and completing her PhD thesis in an
undeveloped and promising area of macroeconomics, Greenfield is at the present moment in the employ of another
leading finance corporation. Spearheading a myriad number of innovative and exciting corporate projects revolving
around international finance, she hopes to eventually become a world leader in her specialist field.5
After you finish mulling over these four examples (two good, two bad), I would like you to get creative and
write five left-branching sentences of your own. The subject is "In the Middle of the Night". In the first
sentence, you are to include one phrase to the left of the main clause; in the second, two phrases; in the third,
three phrases; in the fourth, four phrases; and in the fifth, five phrases. You will find that you can
successfully include one, two, or even three phrases into your left-branching creations. But once you reach
four or more phrases, your sentences will start to suffer from that left-side imbalance. Such a hefty-lefty bias
might even snap a branched sentence, reducing it to literary litter.
4
This example appears in Oliver Gray's "Craft and Draft: Branching Out".
5
I have noticed this unfortunate left-branching trend flourishing in other corporate bios and employee profiles. On a related
topic, you can also spot many regurgitated phrases in my student's bio. Two corporate clichés, in particular, which you should
be aware of, are passion for and passionate about. Both these tasteless phrases inevitably pop up in most bios or corporate
communications. Please avoid using these overworked corporate clones. Find a fresh phrase to express yourself.
4
Create, Narrate, Punctuate | Ramy Tadros | Copyright © 2014 Proton Writing Consultants Pty Ltd. All rights reserved. 10.c. Use right-branching sentences to move backwards
While left-branching sentences may have limited uses, right-branching sentences, on the other hand, can
mushroom in many shapes and effortlessly complete various tasks. In different forms of writing, from
journalism to popular fiction, authors bank on right-branching sentences to add further propositions to a
main clause, moving a sentence backwards, refocusing on its original base clause, or perhaps another phrase,
and ultimately encouraging a natural give-and-take rhythm to wash over a piece. Right-branching sentences
also allow writers to gracefully layer multiple phrases on top of each other—some phrases modifying the
main clause, others modifying preceding phrases. Neither left- nor mid-branching sentences can do this as
fluidly as right-branching ones.
To see an example of powerfully descriptive right-branching sentences, we need to revisit the original
master of the phrase-filled-sentence technique: Joris-Karl Huysmans. In 1884, he wrote Against the Grain,
originally published in French as À Rebours, its intoxicating flavour already being tasted in chapter five. I
have, however, included another extract for its right-branching quirkiness; as you read it, I want you to focus
on each right-branching sentence (you will find several) by highlighting the main clause and underlining each
phrase planted to its right:
After selling his effects, Des Esseintes retained the two old domestics who had tended his mother and filled the
offices of steward and house porter at the Château de Lourps, which had remained deserted and uninhabited until
its disposal.
These servants he brought to Fontenay. They were accustomed to the regular life of hospital attendants, hourly
serving the patients their stipulated food and drink, to the rigid silence of cloistral monks who live behind barred
doors and windows, having no communication with the outside world.
The man was assigned the task of keeping the house in order and of procuring provisions, the woman that of
preparing the food. He [Des Esseintes] surrendered the second storey to them, forced them to wear heavy felt
coverings over their shoes, put sound mufflers along the well-oiled doors and covered their floor with heavy rugs so
that he would never hear their footsteps overhead.
He devised an elaborate signal code of bells whereby his wants were made known. He pointed out the exact spot
on his bureau where they were to place the account book each month while he slept. In short, matters were
arranged in such wise that he would not be obliged to see or to converse with them very often.
Nevertheless, since the woman had occasion to walk past the house so as to reach the woodshed, he wished to
make sure that her shadow, as she passed his windows, would not offend him. He had designed for her a costume
of Flemish silk with a white bonnet and large, black, lowered hood, such as is still worn by the nuns of Ghent. The
shadow of this headdress, in the twilight, gave him the sensation of being in a cloister, brought back memories of
silent, holy villages, dead quarters enclosed and buried in some quiet corner of a bustling town.
Let us zero in on the second sentence of the second paragraph, where I have italicised the main clause and
underlined the first word of each of its three right-branching phrases:
They [the servants] were accustomed to the regular life of hospital attendants, hourly serving the patients their stipulated food
and drink, to the rigid silence of cloistral monks who live behind barred doors and windows, having no
communication with the outside world.
Here, I have rejigged the same sentence by expanding the three phrases and placing them on separate lines:
5
Create, Narrate, Punctuate | Ramy Tadros | Copyright © 2014 Proton Writing Consultants Pty Ltd. All rights reserved. They were accustomed to the regular life of hospital attendants,
[1] hourly serving the patients their stipulated food and drink, [this first phrase modifies the main clause,
specifically, hospital attendants]
[2] to the rigid silence of cloistral monks who live behind barred doors and windows, [this second phrase
modifies the main clause]
[3] having no communication with the outside world. [this third phrase modifies the
second
phrase,
specifically, cloistral monks, rather than the main clause]
Despite consisting of forty words, the sentence manages to make sense, offering further details about the
main clause while subtly lulling readers into a calm frame of mind, perhaps even mesmerising them with the
rhythmically styled prose. And how does the author achieve this sentential serenity? Through three
beautifully balanced right-branching phrases.
The first phrase, which begins with hourly (an adverb) modifying serving (a participle), adds more features
about the opening main clause, about the hospital attendants. The second phrase, beginning with to (a
preposition), also modifies the main clause yet in a slightly different way: "They were accustomed … to the rigid
silence of cloistral monks who live behind barred doors and windows". However, the third phrase, which
starts with having (a participle), modifies the previous phrase—specifically, the cloistral monks—rather than the
main clause. So I have included an additional indent, in the rejigged sentence above, to indicate that this third
phrase modifies the prior phrase, not the main clause.
Overall, this is exquisitely refined writing at its best, purposefully and meticulously fashioned by weaving
in satisfying details—through various phrases—while painting a peaceful picture. And this entire excerpt
illustrates the limitless power and adaptability of right-branching sentences. Yet every added detail, every
introduced phrase, points rearwards, modifying the main clause or a preceding phrase. So, in a sense, rightbranching sentences move backwards, since they report on what has just passed. In contrast, though, leftbranching sentences move forwards, because their phrases are pointing ahead, describing a main clause yet to
come.
It is now your turn to pen five right-branching sentences. The subject is "In the Middle of the Day". In
the first sentence, you are to include one phrase to the right of the main clause; in the second, two phrases; in
the third, three phrases; in the fourth, four phrases; and in the fifth, five phrases. Unlike left-branching
sentences, you should experience no trouble producing balanced, perhaps brilliant, right-biased sentences, as
these reader-serving and reader-friendly sentences should emerge naturally. I would also like you to embrace
right-branching sentences in all your future compositions, sprinkling a few of them in every article you write.
And with practice you will perfect using this essential writing tool, like an à la mode Huysmans.
10.d. Use mid-branching sentences to add appositives
The final branch, the middle branch, can help writers slip appositives and other details into a sentence
without causing a fuss. Have another glance at the previous sentence, and you will see what I mean. The
main clause is The final branch … can help writers slip appositives and other details into a sentence. But I have
interrupted this proposition with a side thought in the shape of an appositive phrase: the middle branch. And
this appositive phrase provides more details about the preceding complete subject: final branch. So the
appositive phrase "the middle branch" in this exercise's first sentence presents us with an example of a midbranching phrase, creating a mid-branching sentence.
A mid-branching strategy can also highlight—can allow authors to emphasise—important ideas found in
the main clause. And if you look at the previous sentence you will see another, though different, example of a
mid-branching sentence. In it, I have introduced and stressed the phrase "can allow authors to emphasise" by
6
Create, Narrate, Punctuate | Ramy Tadros | Copyright © 2014 Proton Writing Consultants Pty Ltd. All rights reserved. using two em dashes (—) to quarantine this proposition from the rest of the sentence. (Em dashes, applied
instead of commas, can give parenthetical propositions a "louder" voice. We shall discuss em dashes later.)
And if you concentrate on the stressed phrase "can allow authors to emphasise", you will realise that it
expands on the preceding phrase "can highlight". So mid-branching phrases can modify more than just the
subject of a main clause, and they give us another useful tool for inserting important information into a main
clause.
Like left-branching sentences, though, mid-branching sentences can lack the versatility and fluidity of
right-branching sentences. If one places too many phrases between a subject and main verb, then the two
concepts can drift apart, losing their once-intimate connection and causing confusion among readers. To
illustrate,
Lucas Sinnger, hungering for money and power and women, wanting to rule the entire world and all its people,
willing to stop at nothing, scared of nothing, inhibited by nothing, the vision of omnipotence, of omniscience,
fuelling his unquenchable thirst for ultimate control over everything and everyone in this grand universe, spotted his
friend.
Why does this sentence sound wrong? Why is it disjointed and hard to grasp? The answer has something to
do with those numerous phrases inserted between the subject (Lucas Sinnger) and the main verb (spotted) in
the main clause: Lucas Sinnger … spotted his friend. This is not suspenseful writing, like Leonard Woolf's leftbranching sentence; this is just silly.
So be warned! And use mid-branching sentences sensibly, as they can swiftly turn into a phrasal tangle,
tripping and trapping your readers unintentionally.
Now, I want you to practise forming mid-branching sentences. Rewrite the examples below by converting
the second sentence into a phrase and inserting it into the middle of the first sentence, after its subject or
object; the first sentence will then become the main clause, thereby creating a single sentence—a single midbranching sentence. To help you make sense of these instructions, I have completed the first example for
you.
1. The Bank of Gunnascrooyoo is continuing to spread its branches across the world. It is already the largest global
bank. [The Bank of Gunnascrooyoo, already the largest global bank, is continuing to spread its branches across
the world.]
2. Hany decided to end it all. He was tired of life.
3. He gave the tool to his friend as a gift. The tool was a broken piece of junk.
4. My salad sandwich burst with flavour as I bit into it. It was filled with fresh local produce.
5. The orb-weaver spider spun her intricate web across two saplings. She did it with the effortless skill of an
artisan.
10.e. Beware of danglers
One final danger skulks in the shadows of left-branching and mid-branching sentences: the dangler. These
dangling modifiers, or misplaced phrases, fail to correspond with the thing they are supposed to modify, as this
example by Donna Petrozzello shows:
Hold onto your garden greens—giant African snails have invaded Long Island [in the United States]. Boasting a
voracious appetite and stocked with both male and female sex organs capable of producing up to 1,000 offspring
7
Create, Narrate, Punctuate | Ramy Tadros | Copyright © 2014 Proton Writing Consultants Pty Ltd. All rights reserved. per year, officials at the US Department of Agriculture are warning Long Islanders to report any sightings of the
oversized escargot immediately.6
What does Boasting a voracious appetite and stocked with both male and female sex organs capable of producing up to 1,000
offspring per year modify? This phrase modifies the subject directly to its right: officials at the US Department of
Agriculture. So, according to this reporter, officials at the US Department of Agriculture are boasting a
voracious appetite and are stocked with both male and female sex organs capable of producing up to 1,000
offspring per year. Ya sater! I would hate to mess with one of these sexed-up and supercharged
hermaphroditic US officials—or with one of their thousands of annually spawned hungry-hungry offspring.
Yet not all danglers are this obvious or this funny. The classic misplaced phrase, included in almost every
grammar guide, is this one: Having eaten lunch, the bus left the station. But buses do not eat lunch. Humans do.
Nonetheless, Having eaten lunch does modify the subject sitting directly next to it: that is, the bus. To de-dangle
this dangler, the author would need to insert a person into the sentence: Having eaten lunch, the bus driver
started his bus and left the station.
Dangler danger is real. And even experienced authors and editors sometimes succumb to this sneaky little
mischief-maker who, as we can see from the previous examples, likes to target lefties.
6
Stephen Chilton, of the University of Minnesota, points out this example in "Snippets: Some Examples of Bad Writing for Your
Amusement and Horror".
8
Create, Narrate, Punctuate | Ramy Tadros | Copyright © 2014 Proton Writing Consultants Pty Ltd. All rights reserved. —11—
Grasp, master, and use rhetorical devices
O
n 19 November 1863, President Abraham Lincoln delivered the following address at Gettysburg,
Pennsylvania:
Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and
dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so
dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of
that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting
and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate—we can not consecrate—we can not hallow—this ground. The brave
men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The
world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us
the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly
advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored
dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here
highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of
freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.7
Although Lincoln's speech has been called monumental for many reasons, it is his use of phrases—phrases
such as government of the people, by the people, for the people, phrases still capturing the public's attention after more
than one hundred and fifty years—that interests us. But what makes such phrases so memorable? And how
can we, humble writers seeking betterment, learn from past political giants and their instinctual and intimate
understanding of language, of its strengths and weaknesses, of its sound and rhythm, to perfect our prose
and win the hearts and minds and votes of the hoi polloi?
Like countless politicians today, Lincoln weaved many rhetorical devices, including tropes and figures of
speech, into his writing and speeches, to entice and entrance audiences. This, among other reasons, is how he
forged such lasting literary monuments. And he had many of these rhetorical devices to play and experiment
with, since roughly four-score-and-seven kinds of them exist: anacoluthon, aposiopesis, diacope, dirimens copulatio,
enallage, epanalepsis, epizeuxis, hendiadys, merism, polyptoton, procatalepsis, zeugma, to name just a handful.
Yet, today, such peculiar titles tend to terrify writers, deterring them from exploring these rhetorical
treasures, while abstract academic quarrels over their finer theoretical applications further damage these
devices' public image.
7
Five copies of Lincoln's address at Gettysburg exist in his handwriting. The version quoted here is based on the "Bliss Copy".
Lincoln originally sent this handwritten, signed, and dated copy to Colonel Alexander Bliss, to help with a fundraiser. The "Bliss
Copy" text also appears on the Lincoln Memorial in Washington DC, while Lincoln's original letter addressed to Bliss is housed
in the Lincoln Room of the White House.
9
Create, Narrate, Punctuate | Ramy Tadros | Copyright © 2014 Proton Writing Consultants Pty Ltd. All rights reserved. We, however, shall avoid all this nonsense. For, as writers, we want to know how and when we should use
these rhetorical devices to enhance our writing, to charm readers, and ultimately to influence an audience.
When woven seamlessly into prose, a rhetorical device may even pass undetected by readers, who will
nonetheless respond unconsciously to its order, tempo, pattern. One might even call it subliminal advertising,
using words.
So if politicians and other powerful people can grasp the strength of these rhetorical devices, why should
authors ignore them and their sentential potential?
To simplify this huge and complex topic, I will loosely apply the following three terms to represent several
themes found in different rhetorical devices: balanced propositions, parallel propositions, and the rule of three.
Remember, I am interested in practical usage, not theoretical debates, so please avoid approaching this
information as an academic discourse.
Balanced propositions offer us a welcoming entry point into this alien world inhabited by exotically named
rhetorical devices. To illustrate a standard balanced structure, I have framed the following left-right
propositional punch:
Chimpanzee society is patriarchal; bonobo society is matriarchal.
Proposition one: Chimpanzee society is patriarchal. Proposition two: bonobo society is matriarchal. Although
proposition two almost perfectly mirrors number one, I have introduced two small changes: bonobo for
chimpanzee and matriarchal for patriarchal. Then, by placing the two propositions next to each other and
inserting a semicolon, which acts like a fulcrum to separate and balance the ideas, I have created a balanced
form. I also could have presented these propositions using a stronger stop:
Chimpanzee society is patriarchal. Bonobo society is matriarchal.
Or I might have applied a fancier structure:
Chimpanzee society is patriarchal; bonobo society, matriarchal.
Yet this final form, technically, a kind of zeugma, still represents a balanced proposition, despite dropping the
second is and replacing it with a comma. (Readers comprehend this construction by subconsciously adding
that missing is.)
Rummaging our literary heritage, we find that many classic quotations display a balanced form, attesting to
the timelessness of rhetorical devices. For example, Alexander Pope, writing in the eighteenth century,
penned this:
To err is human; to forgive, divine.
Pope ingeniously balanced and contrasted two propositions—changing err to forgive and human to divine, while
eliminating the second is—to mould an unforgettable aphorism. (But Pope was even more brilliant than that.
For the poets among us, his sentence is written in iambic pentameter: te-Tum-te-Tum-te-Tum-te-Tum-te-Tum.)
Sir Winston Churchill, another master rhetorician, also gifted humanity with memorable balanced forms.
One sentence, in particular, presents us with a standard balanced construction:
The inherent vice of capitalism is the unequal sharing of blessings;
the inherent virtue of socialism is the equal sharing of miseries.
10
Create, Narrate, Punctuate | Ramy Tadros | Copyright © 2014 Proton Writing Consultants Pty Ltd. All rights reserved. What makes this quotation so satisfying? A delicate balance between repetitions (the inherent … of … is the …
sharing of …) and slight variations (vice versus virtue, capitalism versus socialism, unequal versus equal, blessings
versus miseries) produces the perfect rhetorical recipe, a pithily insightful yet gracefully droll remark. A
Churchillian cabochon.
Something primordial inside us responds to balanced propositions; something hidden within stirs to their
contrasted propositions. And if you glance again at the preceding sentence, you will notice that I have
balanced the propositions. I have also started each balanced section with the same word: something. And I
have ended each balanced section with the same word: propositions. Repeating the first word is called anaphora;
repeating the last, epistrophe. And combining both these techniques, as I have done above, gives us a rhetorical
device known as symploce.
But balanced constructions can appear in shorter, plainer forms. In Abraham Lincoln's address, he writes,
"The brave men, living and dead". This two-part modifier—living and dead—gives us an example of a concisely
contrasted yet beautifully balanced proposition. Had he written something like the brave men of today and even the
past, it would have lacked the original's vigour. In the modern world, similar balanced forms sprout up
everywhere, especially in advertising copy: for instance, tried and tested, buttered and battered, glued and screwed,
trials and tribulations. All these constructions also exhibit assonance or alliteration—or both. So rhetoricians
usually meld one rhetorical device with another, moulding phrases and sentences that settle in our minds,
refusing to fade away, even with the passage of time.
Although I have referred to all these previous examples as balanced forms, they also display parallel
construction. Have another glance at Winston Churchill's sentence, and you will notice that both clauses—each
part before and after the semicolon—line up perfectly when placed on top of each other. Article (The) for
article (the). Adjective (inherent) for adjective (inherent). Noun (vice) for noun (virtue). And so on. Both clauses, in
other words, are constructed in parallel.
Like balanced propositions, parallelism seems to strike an evolutionarily ingrained connection with people.
And when combined with the rule of three (another subliminal strategy), parallel constructions can stand for
centuries, perhaps even millennia.
Lincoln's "government of the people, by the people, for the people", for instance, displays parallel
construction and embraces the rule of three, a series of three items. In each of the three right-branching
prepositional phrases, Lincoln simply changed the preposition (of, by, for) while keeping everything else
identical. He also dropped the final and before for the people, probably realising that asyndeton—omitting
conjunctions such as and from a series—can sometimes enhance a sentence's cadence and texture. Onesyllable preposition (of) for one-syllable preposition (by) for one-syllable preposition (for). One-syllable article
(the) for one-syllable article (the) for one-syllable article (the). Two-syllable noun (people) for two-syllable noun
(people) for two-syllable noun (people). Perfect parallelism while applying the rule of three. Yet these tiny
tweaks have created an expression that has remained ringing in readers' minds more than a century later,
whereas another rewrite—say, government of the people, of workers, by elected officials, and for its citizens—would have
vanished from the history books.
In the same speech, Lincoln employs another example of parallelism and the rule of three, but to a midbranching sentence rather than a right-branching one:
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate—we can not consecrate—we can not hallow—this ground.
This time, though, he begins every parallel proposition with the same pronoun (we), while capping each
construction with a different verb (dedicate, consecrate, hallow). The final verb (hallow) also consists of two
syllables, whereas the other two parallel verbs (dedicate, consecrate) consist of three syllables each. So, if being
11
Create, Narrate, Punctuate | Ramy Tadros | Copyright © 2014 Proton Writing Consultants Pty Ltd. All rights reserved. picky, we could claim that this example lacks the refined finish of the preceding one. But this is being
ridiculous.
Despite the originality of Lincoln's rhetorical creations, he would have likely learned this art from bygone
masters. For the Ancient Greeks and Romans founded schools focusing just on rhetoric and logical
argument—the earliest, probably the Sophist schools of Ancient Athens, emerging around the fifth century
BC. (Today, we can even trace words such as sophistry and sophisticated to these Ancient Athenian roots.) They
were the original rhetoricians, the true language sculptors, who invented and perfected this linguistic
geometry. And if we were to study ancient texts, we would unearth many examples of rhetorical gems. But
we do not have to dig deeply to uncover a famous parallel construction championing the rule of three. Of
course, I am thinking of Julius Caesar's ancient utterance:
Veni, vidi, vici.
Translated from Latin into English, this becomes I came, I saw, I conquered, which still carries a polished
sophistication, despite lacking the full effulgence of the original tongue's touch. In Latin, we find Caesar
embracing the rule of three (technically, tricolon) while applying perfect parallelism: exactly the same number
of words, letters, and syllables in each of the three sections. We also stumble across another example of
asyndeton, where Caesar has dropped the final and before vici (I conquered) to keep everything perfectly
parallel, enhancing the sentence's rhythm and flow and erecting a formation that has remained defiantly
proud for more than two thousand years.
Yet why do we treasure twins and triplets? Why do we prize paired and balanced creations? Why do we
admire things when they thud and thump and thrum to the beat of three?8
Perhaps these rhetorical devices hint at something deeper, a fundamental yet veiled truth about our
universe and our being. Perhaps twos and threes attract us because the cosmos consists of twos and threes,
constructs reality in twos and threes, is twos and threes:
Positive charge and negative charge. Attraction and repulsion. Space and time. Quarks and leptons.
Energy and matter. Particles and waves. Light and darkness. Good and evil. Order and disorder. Rules and
freedom. Randomness and design. Life and death. The Word and silence. Something and nothing.
Time, space, matter. The three dimensions of space, x, y, z. Proton, electron, neutron. Positive, negative,
neutral. Solid, liquid, gas. Subatomic particle, atom, molecule. Birth, growth, death. Mind, body, soul.
Beginning, middle, end.
Research & write
11.a. Learn about parallel constructions and the rule of three
Can you spot the parallel form applying the rule of three in this passage from The Sleepwalkers: A History of
Man's Changing Vision of the Universe, written in 1959 by Arthur Koestler? What other rhetorical devices does
the author use in his parallel construction?
What we call the Copernican revolution was not made by Canon Koppernigk. His book was not intended to cause a
revolution. He knew that much of it was unsound, contrary to evidence, and its basic assumption unprovable. He
8
Asyndeton omits conjunctions from a series. Polysyndeton, its opposite, inserts conjunctions between each word or phrase or
clause in a series: "when they thud and thump and thrum to the beat of three". Both techniques can be used to change a
sentence's tempo or add emphasis. For instance, in Revelation 8:5 (King James Version), the author, John of Patmos,
embraces polysyndeton to stress each item in the series: "And the angel took the censer, and filled it with fire of the altar, and
cast it into the earth: and there were voices, and thunderings, and lightnings, and an earthquake."
12
Create, Narrate, Punctuate | Ramy Tadros | Copyright © 2014 Proton Writing Consultants Pty Ltd. All rights reserved. only half believed in it, in the split-minded manner of the Middle Ages. Besides, he was denied the essential qualities
of the prophet: awareness of a mission, originality of vision, the courage of conviction.
Koestler liked his rhetorical devices. The extract below is copied from another book, also written by him: The
Invisible Writing: The Second Volume of an Autobiography 1932–40. Identify and describe the rule of three applied
in a sentence located in the first paragraph. Is this construction a left-, mid-, or right-branching sentence?
Does Koestler's rhetorical creation resemble anything found in Abraham Lincoln's address at Gettysburg?
I threw myself into the activities of the [communist] cell with the same ardour and complete self-abandonment that
I had experienced at seventeen on joining my duelling fraternity in Vienna. I lived in the cell, with the cell, for the
cell. I was no longer alone; I had found the warm comradeship that I had been thirsting for; my desire to belong
was satisfied.
Only gradually did I become aware of certain undercurrents that existed beneath the free and easy surface. I
noticed that individual friendships within the cell were, though not exactly reprehensible, yet regarded as slightly
ambiguous and suspect of political "factionalism". "Factionalism"—the formation of groups with a policy of their
own—was a capital crime in the Party, and if two or more comrades were known to be often together and to take
the same line during discussions, they inevitably became suspect of forming a secret faction.
And again from the same book, this following snippet houses another rhetorical device, although it differs
from the standard rule of three. How does it differ? Locate this parallel construction, and describe its
sentence branching.
To sum up this aspect of the story. As a child I had been taught that whatever I did was wrong, a pain to others and
a disgrace to myself. At the age of five, the permanent awareness of guilt and impending punishment resulted in a
mild attack of persecution mania, described in an earlier chapter. A few years later, the feeling of inferiority
manifested itself in paralysing shyness, then focused on my slow growth and juvenile appearance. Now, at twentysix, this floating mass of anxiety and guilt, always ready to fasten on the first peg in sight, turned against my
bourgeois background, my powers of reasoning and capacity for enjoyment. To bask in the sun, to read a novel, to
dine in a good restaurant, to go to a picture gallery, became guilty exercises of a privilege that others could not
share, frivolous diversions from the class struggle. True Communists, like Catholics, live in constant awareness of
original sin.
The final excerpt below is reproduced from Joris-Karl Huysmans's À Rebours, a title we have studied earlier.
As already mentioned, this author adores his right-branching participial phrases. But only now, after studying
this chapter, can we grapple with his advanced use of rhetorical devices, deciphering his writing secrets and
borrowing them for our own masterpieces. In the following excerpt, you will find a brilliant branching
sentence, packed with participial phrases and overflowing with vivid imagery. Unravel this sentence's
intricacies, concentrating particularly on the right-branching phrases at its end. How many of these
propositions are there? Do they embrace the rule of three? And are they written in parallel form?
There, the palace of Herod [Antipas] arose like an Alhambra on slender, iridescent columns with moorish tile,
joined with silver beton and gold cement. Arabesques proceeded from lozenges of lapis lazuli, wove their patterns
on the cupolas where, on nacreous marquetry, crept rainbow gleams and prismatic flames.
The murder was accomplished. The executioner stood impassive, his hands on the hilt of his long, blood-stained
sword.
The severed head of the saint [John the Baptist] stared lividly on the charger resting on the slabs; the mouth was
discolored and open, the neck crimson, and tears fell from the eyes. The face was encircled by an aureole worked in
13
Create, Narrate, Punctuate | Ramy Tadros | Copyright © 2014 Proton Writing Consultants Pty Ltd. All rights reserved. mosaic, which shot rays of light under the porticos and illuminated the horrible ascension of the head, brightening
the glassy orbs of the contracted eyes which were fixed with a ghastly stare upon the dancer.
With a gesture of terror, Salomé [who requested that Herod give her John's head on a platter] thrusts from her
the horrible vision which transfixes her, motionless, to the ground. Her eyes dilate, her hands clasp her neck in a
convulsive clutch.
She is almost nude. In the ardor of the dance [for Herod], her veils had become loosened. She is garbed only in
gold-wrought stuffs and limpid stones; a neckpiece clasps her as a corselet does the body and, like a superb buckle,
a marvelous jewel sparkles on the hollow between her breasts. A girdle encircles her hips, concealing the upper part
of her thighs, against which beats a gigantic pendant streaming with carbuncles and emeralds.
All the facets of the jewels kindle under the ardent shafts of light escaping from the head of the Baptist. The
stones grow warm, outlining the woman's body with incandescent rays, striking her neck, feet and arms with
tongues of fire—vermilions like coals, violets like jets of gas, blues like flames of alcohol, and whites like star light.
The horrible head blazes, bleeding constantly, clots of sombre purple on the ends of the beard and hair. Visible
for Salomé alone, it does not, with its fixed gaze, attract Herodias [Salomé's mother], musing on her finally
consummated revenge, nor the Tetrarch [Herod] who, bent slightly forward, his hands on his knees, still pants,
maddened by the nudity of the woman saturated with animal odors, steeped in balms, exuding incense and myrrh.
11.b. Learn about balanced forms
Continuing with Joris-Karl Huysmans's work in the previous exercise, we come across the following:
In this insensate and pitiless image, in this innocent and dangerous idol, the eroticism and terror of mankind were
depicted. The tall lotus had disappeared, the goddess had vanished; a frightful nightmare now stifled the woman
[Salomé], dizzied by the whirlwind of the dance, hypnotized and petrified by terror.
It was here that she was indeed Woman, for here she gave rein to her ardent and cruel temperament. She was
living, more refined and savage, more execrable and exquisite. She more energetically awakened the dulled senses of
man, more surely bewitched and subdued his power of will, with the charm of a tall venereal flower, cultivated in
sacrilegious beds, in impious hothouses.
Balanced forms fill this previous passage—in particular, The tall lotus had disappeared, the goddess had vanished and
She was living, more refined and savage, more execrable and exquisite. Notice, in the second example, how the author
repeats each proposition by varying each term, by balancing and contrasting two ideas: more refined and savage,
more execrable and exquisite. Simple yet sumptuous. Subtle yet forceful.
11.c. Become a rhetorician and employ subliminal messages
Observe the world of words around you, and you will discover many examples of intentional and
unintentional rhetorical creations, which you can then adopt and adapt for your own compositions.
Property marketers, for instance, always talk about location, location, location, an example of simple repetition
married to that reliable rule of three. A wordsmith might adopt and adapt this pattern, writing locution, locution,
locution to stress the importance of styling sophisticated sentences. And something as memorable as a
government of the people, by the people, for the people can serve as a template, permitting authors to shape thousands
of variants. In an African country, say, a journalist may describe a ruling military junta as a government of the
military, by the military, for the military. In Europe, this would be a government of clueless technocrats, by clueless
technocrats, for clueless technocrats. And in the United States, one might write a government of Wall Street, by Wall
Street, for Wall Street. With this one template, we can already craft endless variations and clever rhetorical
creations suitable for any subject—trivial or serious.
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Create, Narrate, Punctuate | Ramy Tadros | Copyright © 2014 Proton Writing Consultants Pty Ltd. All rights reserved. Basic repetition, without embracing parallelism or the rule of three, can also be used to emphasise a point.
Paul the Apostle, writing in the Holy Bible (King James Version), obviously liked to wield this tool.9 And in
just one chapter of 2 Corinthians, he used this strategy in three different verses, stressing if five times in 2
Corinthians 11:20, in eighteen times in 2 Corinthians 11:25–27, and perils eight times in 2 Corinthians 11:25–
27:
For ye suffer, if a man bring you into bondage, if a man devour you, if a man take of you, if a man exalt himself, if a
man smite you on the face …
Thrice was I beaten with rods, once was I stoned, thrice I suffered shipwreck, a night and a day I have been in
the deep;
In journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by mine own countrymen, in perils by the
heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren;
In weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness.
[These italics appear in the King James Bible and indicate added words that are not found in the original Greek
manuscripts.]
Almost two thousand years after Paul, Mark Steyn parrots the same rhetorical device in After America, where
he includes the prepositional phrase "in the" five times in one sentence. Notice, too, how he arranges the
series, from the shortest item to the longest, aiding in the sentence's flow:
So, in the government, in the dinosaur media, in the faculty lounge, in the community-organizing community, in the
boardrooms of connected corporations, America's rulers are conformicrats.
In his next sentence, Steyn once again relies on repetition, repeating the same three times, but this time he
constructs his prose in parallel using the rule of three:
They have the same opinions, the same tastes, the same vocabulary.
And in both sentences, Steyn has decided to drop and before the final item in each series (asyndeton).
So rhetorical devices have remained the same for thousands of years. And if contemporary politicians and
political pundits are mimicking the ancient masters, then so should we.
Singers and songwriters also recognise the entrancingly catchy qualities of repetition and parallelism. For
instance, in Sting's song "Every Breath You Take" (Copyright Gordon Sumner), how could anyone forget
these lines?
Every breath you take,
Every move you make,
Every bond you break,
Every step you take,
I'll be watching you.
But why are these lines unforgettable? Why does every word, every phrase, every clause, haunt every breath
we take, every move we make, and every step we take? Because the songwriter has applied ancient rhetorical
devices to modern locutions.
9
Strictly speaking, Paul did not write anything; rather, a scribe would have done all the writing while Paul did all the dictating.
15
Create, Narrate, Punctuate | Ramy Tadros | Copyright © 2014 Proton Writing Consultants Pty Ltd. All rights reserved. First, to build suspense, the songwriter has penned the lines using a left-branching sentence (see the
previous chapter for building suspense), with the main clause, the sentence's foundation, the creepy
punchline, emerging at the end, after all those everys. And, second, to implant the message in listeners' minds,
the songwriter has repeated every four times, while crafting four perfectly parallel and rhyming propositions.
You can even see how every word in the first four lines is structurally and grammatically parallel, matching its
neighbour above.
Although I have presented and analysed a few memorable quotations—made memorable because of their
rhetorical devices—millions of others exist. And if you wish to bolster your message, if you wish to attract
readers, if you wish to influence people, then grasping and mastering these same rhetorical devices will
certainly aid you on your literary quest.
Research ancient authors; research contemporary writers. Study celebrated sentences; study indelible
sentences. Learn about the rhetorical devices that make them great. And then use these constructions as a
template for your future compositions, adjusting and reconstructing them to suit your purposes. For mimicry
is the main tool of Homo sapiens—and of writers. Even TS Eliot, in a finely balanced sentence, wrote,
"Immature poets imitate. Mature poets steal."
Now, I want you to imitate rhetoricians, ancient and modern, by penning your own rhetorically rich
constructions.
Create five balanced sentences; in each sentence, the second proposition should echo the first while
exhibiting a slight variation. If you are having trouble starting, you can use Winston Churchill's sentence as a
template, or you can fashion something similar yet simpler. For instance, Healthy food tastes great; fatty food tastes
better. See how I echoed the first proposition (Healthy food tastes great) in the second proposition after the
semicolon, by changing just two words (healthy to fatty and great to better)? Such a construction would count as
one balanced sentence, so you would need to write four more.
After completing this exercise, try writing another five sentences, each one constructed in parallel and
embracing the rule of three. As before, you may use any of the examples in this chapter (or this guide) as a
blueprint for your sentences, or you can do your own research and produce something fresh. But I want you
to create at least one right-branching sentence, embracing parallel-constructed participial phrases and
applying the rule of three. For example, "The sunlight pierced the X-ray–grey clouds, colouring the drab
landscape, warming the frigid atmosphere, reviving the lifeless inhabitants."
Finally, I would like you to pen five sentences, each displaying at least one rhetorical device of your
choice. You may want to apply simple repetition (see Sting, Mark Steyn, or Paul the Apostle) and build a left-,
mid-, or right-branching sentence. Or you may wish to sift through the information found on the VirtualSalt
website <http://www.virtualsalt.com/rhetoric.htm> and shape something rhetorically original and
enchanting.
16