Attack of the Purple Prose

Today’s lesson in Magazine and Freelance writing was “purple prose.” Professor Mosqueda, who is co-teaching the class with Dr. Longinow, explained to us that purple prose refers to a “passage written in prose so overly extravagant, ornate, or flowery that it breaks the flow and draws attention to itself.” Purple prose is writing that is “pretentious, and gaudy.” Prof. Mosqueda went on to say that the main purpose of writing is to communicate, and so we must strive to clearly communicate what we want to say with honesty and integrity. He wants us to be “clear, concrete, and specific.”

Which brings me to the point. I’ve spent the last couple days trying to read three different essays by Jacques Derrida. I’m not trying to pick on him particularly, but he is the one I’m reading right now, so he is my victim of choice. He is, at least in my mind—along with nearly every other literary critic or philosopher we’ve read this semester—the opposite of clear, concrete, and specific. I realize that deconstructionists won’t appreciate the binary opposition I’ve just created. Regardless, he seems to dance around what he’s really trying to say.

I understand that part of deconstruction is a de-centering, an acknowledgement that there nothing around which he can gravitate and thus no way of “getting to the point.” But to me, Derrida’s extended syntax, ostentatious verbosity, and circular argumentation are cumbersome and aggravating for me as a reader (that was the worst sentence I could come up with).

What frustrates me is that he simply refuses to say exactly what he means. They all do. Of course, I don’t expect philosophers to simplify everything into easy laymen’s vocabulary. I recognize that the terms they choose—the language they use—is as much a part of their ideological agenda as the actual ideas themselves. But as an amateur writer, I’m starting to worry that their way of articulating their ideas is beginning to rub off on me.

I love the craftsmanship of writing. I love learning about technique, and how we use those tools of the trade to help us say what we want or need to say. It’s a great mix of intuition and ingenuity: knowing what sounds good and working hard to get it just right. I like to think that I’ve matured enough to avoid things like purple prose, but I can’t help but wonder if I have the talent and guts to make it as a writer.