Although it’s somewhat oxymoronic to notice the absence of something, regular readers will perhaps have noticed that I strive to avoid using clichés. Therein lies a problem, though. If, despite being worn out by overuse, the cliché is just right then one must use it and be damned. As with my alertness to the wrong positioning of the word “only” in a sentence - the fetish I call only watching - so too my cliché watching fetish: both were pointed out to me with such impact that they stuck like limpets. My only watching was triggered by a university friend, not as a throwaway comment, but as a seriously-meant injunction. As to clichés: my awareness of their prevalence, and the good sense of trying to avoid their use, came from my time of National Service training. All the recruits destined for the subsequent embrace of the Melbourne University “officer training” Regiment were given instruction in public speaking – focussing on such matters as impromptu speech making, the elimination of ums and ahs by filling spaces with silence, and recognition and avoidance of clichés (1).
The avoidance of the overuse of clichés is the result of training and experience. The recognition and appreciation of a well-turned phrase, however, is more instinctive, a more personal predilection.
The beauty of the well-turned phrase was once again highlighted for me when I wrote recently about the depiction of the Battle of Hastings in the Bayeux Tapestry (2). That portrayal was from an August 1968 National Geographic mega-article, The Norman Conquest. The article had resulted from a special assignment to commemorate the Tapestry’s 900th anniversary. The assignment was undertaken by three photographers, and Kenneth Sutton, writer. As well as giving close attention to the Bayeux Tapestry, Sutton spent some time travelling in France.
Professor Kenneth Sutton (1914 – 1995) was an historian of note, and an expert on the history of medieval Europe. A graduate of Boston and Columbia Universities, he taught at the Universities of Manitoba, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin, and was a member of the Institute of Advanced Studies at Princeton. He was fluent in several languages, including – in addition to the usual suspects – classical Greek and Catalan. So he was something of a big enchilada, not your typical choice for the wordsmith to accompany the photo-shoot assignment.
And in reading the National Geographic article I was conscious of some remarkable Sutton sentences – breathtaking to the point that further adjectives fail me. And not glib, but wise. So surprise, surprise, we arrive at the point of this Piece - to share some beautiful writing, some beautiful turns of phrase if you must, but with no other cliché in sight.
So here are some of Kenneth Sutton’s observations and profundities.
On his road journey:
A grim cold lay over the landscape.
A discouraging rain renewed its steady patter on the windscreen.
On history:
Great men, great cities, and great nations supply the themes for great history.
Time destroys the past as history seeks to preserve it.
He was engaged in the dangerous business of making history; we were merely writing it.
Sometimes we suspect that Clio, the muse of history, tries her hand at roulette.
Tourism has done history many a good turn.
Social comment:
The various grades of peasantry survived apparently unchanged, working their weary way through life.
Westminster Abbey: Abode of dead royalty and departed genius.
One sees more old drunks than old physicians.
And echoes of U.S.A. 2020 to come:
When idiocy reaches the sublime it must command an incredulous awe.
I hope that you, too, have been impressed by the insightfulness of Kenneth Sutton, and his turns of phrase.
(1) I posted a Pieces to Share blog on 16 October 2011 about my National Service experience, titled Army Days.
(2) See the Pieces to Share blog Britain in Pictures - Number 4, under Battlefields of Britain, posted 15 September 2020.
Gary Andrews
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