Competing Discourses: O Brother Where Art Thou

In this clip, taken from the movie O Brother Where Art Thou, I see two distinct Discourses showing up.  The three men share one Discourse: having broken out of a chain gang, they try to get away.  Their language is rough and improper, and they seem to share the unassuming southern drawl with which they speak.  However, the main character, Everett, displays two Discourses, switching between them.  His tone of voice seems to change as he switches to a more proper and educated Discourse.  Watch again from 0:33 to 0:47: he begins in a distinct southern drawl, saying, "Say, any o' you boys smithies?"  But then he continues: "Or if not smithies, per se, were you otherwise trained in the metallurgic arts before straitened circumstances forced you into a life of aimless wandering?"  And again, at 2:13, the southern speech of the blind man is starkly contrasted with Everett: "Well, that right there may be the reason you've had difficulty finding gainful employment.  You see, in the market of competitive commerce..."

The movie is full of such comments, contrasting rural speech with Everett's more sophisticated mannerisms.  This is used for humor throughout.  If you haven't seen the movie, make time to watch it all.  It'll be worth it.

Rules and Breaking Them Well

What were you taught NEVER to do as a writer? Come up with about two or three such mandates, and write some of your reflections about each one. Was this rule a good one? Are there sound reasons for it? Are there times when you can/should ignore it?


As a high school student, I was taught to never split infinitives.  As a middle school student, ending a sentence with a preposition was something I became increasingly aware of.  And as early as elementary school, beginning a sentence with a conjunction was flat-out wrong.


However, none of those sentences need to be deemed grammatically wrong.  (There went my fourth 'error.' Did you catch it?)  Without proper rules, some might say, our language would fall apart at the seams.  To which I would reply: "hve u ben on fbook l8ly?"


Is there not a middle ground between rigid use of formal grammar and such blatant disregard for any guidelines whatsoever?


I quickly came to appreciate the critique that Williams presents in chapter two of Style: Lessons in Clarity and Grace, because of the way that he distinguishes between rules that should not be broken and rules that should.  Yes, I said it: Some rules should be broken.  And broken often.


It is the writer's belief that he has, in his education to the present point, been instructed in grammar and the proper rules of writing to his own demise.  Would that he could return to a less learned state, to write freely again!  It seems that his voice has been smothered by an imposing  set of guidelines from which he can never fully remove himself.  These rules have permeated his writing, his critique of literature, and even his speech.  Formality has become not only his single mode, but also his standard for all others.


Why is it that in my mind such writing has been applauded!?!  (I'm back, if you couldn't tell.)  I read back over that paragraph and shudder.  Surely there are places and environments that don't require such precision! But to me, thanks to my 'education,' all that I read and write has voiceless, soulless impersonability as its highest aim.  Even in this paragraph I wanted to write:

Surely some places and environments exist for which such precision is not necessary!

So I arrive at the conclusion that not all writing must follow strict rules.  Yes: grammar is great, but not when it gets in the way of communication.  Not when it suffocates.  Never should formality be the goal when lighter conversation will do.