As I wrote some time ago, my favorite books tend to be well-balanced across character, plot, and setting, and that’s what I strive for in my own writing.
Characters are meant to have key roles to play in the plot, of course, and standard advice is to strip out characters who don’t have a singular role in the story. Given the interwoven nature of character and setting, I also want characters to represent or demonstrate the unique features of the world.
Slang, Idioms, adages and folk sayings are a terrific way to make sure characters are grounded in their setting and slip in some world-building that doesn’t require a lot of description.
This works well in my New Foundation Project, where several of the characters are encountering new cultures and conventions. Because one of the main characters in this series, Piers Haldon, is a linguist, I have a great excuse for him to notice and reflect on the local flavor of language. I’ve tried to provide opportunities for that organically through his encounters.
Slang
Who better to introduce a newcomer to local slang than a teenager? Adults often struggle to interpret slang, so it’s natural for Piers to be puzzled by it and need to think it through. His conversations with fourteen-year-old Atto give me a chance to underscore the differences in their worlds.
Here’s an example from A Signal for Redemption:
Though there wasn’t a wall or a gate, the road approached a break in a row of buildings that was clearly the main point of entry. Piers walked along a cobbled street where the top stories of the buildings pushed forward to peer into each other’s upper windows. Two carriages could pass, but only with careful maneuvering, and when they did there was no good place for a pedestrian to be, as Piers discovered.
Both drivers shouted at him, but all he could do was hustle along in front of one until they were clear. He looked around for a way to be out of the traffic, and noticed a teenaged boy balancing on the raised threshold of an open doorway, watching him with a cocky grin.
“All right there, fielder?” the boy called.
Fielder. It didn’t sound like it was intended as an insult, but it probably wasn’t a compliment, either. “Seem to be,” Piers answered, and made his way over. “I guess you can tell I’m not from here.”
The grin broadened. “It shows. Always walk facing traffic—that way you can see them coming. Wherever you’re from, you must have wider roads.”
Idioms
Idioms offer a quick glimpse into common experience, because they usually are derived from something so ordinary that its features can be used metaphorically.
For instance, in the early 1900s, people said, “now you’re on the trolley” to mean “now you understand!” People understood intuitively that the trolley symbolized being on track and moving at speed. It’s not an expression we use these days. We can understand it if we think about it, but trolleys aren’t a common part of daily life for most of us.
Piers’s own casual language serves the same purpose—and his awareness of language gives me a natural way to provide the explanation for readers. This accomplishes two things for me: 1) it demonstrates something that is an ordinary part of the world he comes from and 2) it shows his mental process as he works through the differences he’s encountering.
Also from Signal:
He wondered if he were obligated to try to send Atto back to the inn. What’s the age of autonomy here? Or the age of rebellion, for that matter? Atto said his mother was fine with him going, but Piers had plenty of personal experience with parents who were obliging only because they hadn’t been asked. And Atto’s grandmother’s point of view had been very clear. On the other hand, he would be the beneficiary of Atto’s disobedience, so he had a conflict of interest. “Atto, are you sure you want to do this? Your grandmother didn’t want you to, so she’s going to be worried and probably pretty angry. I don’t want this to cause problems for you—plus I can’t promise that it’s going to be safe. There are some bad things happening on the road these days.”
Atto rewarded him with a perfectly executed look of teenage disdain.
It made Piers think of the verbal shrug his own friends had used at that age, to brush off unwelcome advice: It’s my airlock. In other words, I have the most to lose if I don’t check the seals before I start. He swallowed a laugh—it sounded so absurd juxtaposed with this context. “Just asking the question. Did you at least let someone know you’re going?”
The sigh Atto gave conveyed all of his disappointment that Piers was that kind of grown-up. “I told you, my mother said I can go. She and Gran had a huge fight a few years ago about who I had to listen to, and after that they decided that if they don’t agree on something to do with me, Mom’s got the last word.”
Adages
These are especially rich, because they show not only what is commonly understood but also a glimpse into cultural values. I’ve incorporated them to align with the way I experience them.
One way is the off-hand reference to an adage that is so hackneyed we no longer bother with the full expression. An example in our life is “Speak of the devil.” We no longer finish it (“Speak of the devil and he shall appear.”) because we know what is meant.
When a character uses a phrase this way, it layers in social history. Often the phrase can be understood through context, and the hint of incompleteness casts it as something that is so common and so ingrained that it no longer needs explanation. This yields a folksiness that is useful for making the world feel established.
From The Third Age:
Tarken clapped him on the back and cheerfully said, “The last sip is yours, young Lord Caladen.”
From the side, Atto said, “That means he gets everything he wants, fielder.”
That made Piers laugh again, amused by Atto’s teasing and glad for the explanation. “I figured something like that.”
The second approach is using the full saying, which can be a useful way of summarizing a situation while highlighting something about the culture.
In this passage in The Third Age, I’ve used both techniques:
“No, I struggle with it, too,” [Piers] said, “but it’s important. I think there’s wisdom in the old thing about not making changes until you understand both cause and consequence.”
Kath laughed. “And so Admiral Shumay lives on. That’s one of his sayings, isn’t it?”
“I think so. What they say here is that a naked man makes a poor tailor. You can’t tell how clothes ought to fit if you’ve never worn any.”
Here we have the off-hand reference that Piers makes to a familiar saying from his world, and then a full explanation of a saying from the world he’s exploring.
Coming up with these expressions is a fun part of the creative process, and a useful technique for adding depth to the culture of the imaginary world.
