It is shockingly easy to write long, rambling pieces about one thing and another. If you doubt this, just have a look at a random sampling of marketing materials or this blog. What is really difficult, and what I strive for, is to write short, succinct series of sentences that cover an astonishing amount of territory with very few, very carefully chosen words. When I find evidence that that art form is alive and well, I cut it out and save it. So imagine my delight on Friday afternoon, when I came across this paragraph, written by Paul Elie in an article called “The Velvet Reformation,” published in the March 2009 issue of The Atlantic:
There are now more Muslims than practicing Anglicans in Britain, and the Church of England’s reason for being is under review. Nominally, its head is the monarch, but Prince Charles’s civil marriage to Camilla Parker Bowles poses a problem: the church that Henry VIII founded because Rome would not let him remarry still officially opposes divorce and remarriage. So when Queen Elizabeth dies—she is 82—the church will have to justify its claim as England’s “established” church, and its preeminence in the Anglican Communion, as never before in its history.
There are now more Muslims than practicing Anglicans in Britain, and the Church of England’s reason for being is under review. Nominally, its head is the monarch, but Prince Charles’s civil marriage to Camilla Parker Bowles poses a problem: the church that Henry VIII founded because Rome would not let him remarry still officially opposes divorce and remarriage. So when Queen Elizabeth dies—she is 82—the church will have to justify its claim as England’s “established” church, and its preeminence in the Anglican Communion, as never before in its history.
Personally, I don’t care at all about the monarchy, or the church, or the racial composition of the U.K. What I do care about is that someone can convey so much with so little: this paragraph is a grand total of 91 words, and all but three of them are three syllables or less. Read this paragraph a couple of times if you’re so inclined. Draw a diagram of this paragraph as a historical timetable. It swoops through the past, acknowledges the future and is firmly grounded in the present – all in 91 words. This paragraph does what the television does not: it explains. And in my opinion it does so with such grace – if you don’t believe me, read it out loud. If I ever wrote a paragraph like this I’d turn my computer off and go get a job at the grocery store, deeply satisfied that I’d achieved a level of talent never again to be realized.
But for now I’m pretty happy just trying. And I’m very happy that when I read writing like this, I’m enough of an old lady to take the time to cut it out and tuck it into a notebook or a file folder. Then, months later, when I come across something I’ve cut out, I get to enjoy being seduced all over again, as if for the first time. I’m selfish that way.
