`The Words and the Assonances'

The 16-year-old and I sat in the far corner of the classroom, awkwardly sharing a computer. His assignment was to write a brief profile and analysis of John Proctor, one of the more cartoonishly drawn characters in Arthur Miller’s cartoon of a drama, The Crucible. I played it straight, kept my opinions of Miller’s dramaturgy to myself and acted strictly as a gatekeeper of clean, logical prose.

Writing was agony for this kid, as was typing. He seemed unaware of the space bar and relied rather touchingly on spell-check software. He wasn’t stupid or defiant, and clearly he had read the play but he found the translation of ideas into words almost viscerally painful, like cramps. To make the process even more difficult he was obligated to craft a “topic sentence” and follow a curriculum-prescribed method of composition called “chunk writing.” In short, I was helping a kid who can’t write complete an essay about a lousy play by a writer of simple-minded agitprop, all the while conforming to a crackpot theory of expository writing. Futility hovered around us like flatulence in a locked room.

Fortunately, I had revised my rule that morning and brought a book for those moments when I wasn’t “chunk writing” -- The Knox Brothers, Penelope Fitzgerald’s account of her father (Edmund Knox, editor of Punch) and his three brothers (Ronald, theologian and crime writer; Dillwyn, cryptographer; Wilfred, Bible scholar). Early on, we learn the teenage Ronald, who later translated the New Testament and whose biography was written by Evelyn Waugh, memorized Henry Vaughan’s “Peace.” One-hundred twenty pages later, the poem returns:

“Ronnie’s shy courtesy made it difficult for him to attract attention from the waitresses, and his insistence of `doing the most difficult thing’ led him to tackle his meringue with a fork only. While doing this he began to talk enthusiastically to Eddie about Henry Vaughan’s `Peace’:

“`My soul, there is a country
Far beyond the stars,
Where stands a winged sentry
All skilful in the wars…’

“Ronnie, chasing the crumbs, objected to the half-rhyme, country and sentry, and to the unlikeliness of one sentry guarding a whole boundary. The text must be wrong. Mightn’t Vaughan have written

“`My soul, there is a fortress
Far beyond the stars,
Where stands a winged porteress…’

“Eddie immediately rejected the fortress; it was too menacing; why not a tea shop?

“`My soul, there is a caterer’s
Far beyond the stars,
Where stands a Gunter’s waitress…’

“At the false rhyme, Ronnie half-rose from his chair in agony. The tea was brought, the band played on unnoticed. Other customers stared in amazement. So much did the words and the assonances of the English language mean to the Knox brothers.”

How good it was to be in the company of language-loving people.