Let's talk about figurative language.
Oh, goodness, I can hear you lot moaning already.
I think, in some cases, English classes taught in schools lead us to believe that discussing diction, syntax, and figurative language is the most boring thing that anyone could ever go through.
EVER.
But it's not, not really. Mostly, we just hate the lectures and the pages and pages of explanation we have to write; that's what's redundant and annoying. If you're a native English speaker, you definitely understand the difference between words and metaphors.
No? Let me switch approaches, then. Sekret's a book about young Yulia Andreevna Chernina, a former child of party members in Soviet Russia. After her family is thrown from power, she, her mother, and her younger brother hide in their aunt's apartment while her father is off doing god-knows-what: it's important, that's all Yulia is told. To survive, Yulia has to trade their old possessions down in the black market for food, medical supplies, and anything else they may need. In this endeavor, she may have a slight advantage.
She can read minds through touch.
Soon, however, the KaGeBezniks -- what they call KGB agents -- find her, and she is separated from her family and taken to a facility where six teenagers with similar abilities learn how to serve the Motherland. If she doesn't cooperate, they will kill her family.
I'm not here to discuss the plot, though. This all ties back into word usage -- you wouldn't believe how creative Smith's description is.
In describing the warden's smile, she writes, "She bares her ragged teeth in a grin. They remind me of the metal tank traps along the Moskva River that held back the fascists." (39) When was the last time you heard a smile, no matter how ugly and menacing, likened to tank traps?
There's more.
"His words are trimmed in razor wire." (62)
"His [eyes] are a burned shade of brown. smoldering like the last winter log." (49)
"A man stands over the documents -- gaunt to a degree only Russian men can be, as though his whole face hangs on the two pegs of his cheekbones." (54)
The last one's my absolute favorite. Can you imagine the man? Maybe not, maybe not completely -- after all, there's no description given regarding his hair and his eyes and lips and things. But it's enough, isn't it? You get a feel of the person, the words gaunt and pegs and hangs telling you all you need to know.
Smith's writing is like this at every turn: words and phrases that you as the reader know could have been completely commonplace, and instead they tell you more about the story and characters than you'd ever expect. It's a learning experience, too; as you read, you can see where the words you would've chosen would be too simple, and watch phrases interact with each other, devilishly spinning a tale that runs cold fingers up and down your spine.
If the unique description weren't there, I doubt I'd notice. But it is, and that makes the book so much more satisfying.
