Adverbs as dialogue tags

[Jason L.]

This is something that I have been thinking about: adverbs, especially as dialogue tags.

I have read in so many places no to use them that I have trained myself to be adverb-free. After all, even here, I have heard so many people say that almost every work could be tightened up by killing them. Not a problem.

I was just reading a book, and it was only about midway through that I realized that the author used adverbs as dialogue tags. Unrepentantly, I might add. Not only was I still enjoying the book, but I never noticed it until I was in the middle of removing my own. Had I not been actively thinking about adverbs, it would have gone unnoticed. (Longer form: Had I not been thinking about adverbs in an active fashion...hey, look! I am adverb-free! And it's...longer.) The thing is that the nuance with what I comprehended the story, the dialogue, and the actions didn't change. It flowed, and having them say something quietly not only made sense, it affected my process of subvocalization. My own inner reader, scanning ahead, registered that and dropped its voice accordingly every time. There was no work in interpretation for me to do.

This gets me to the discussion: I wonder if this obsession is one of our "writerly" fixations. I can understand that some things are overused, but I am not talking about that.

As a writer, I now register them. But as a reader, I simply didn't. In fact, I enjoyed their placement. I was glad that they were there.

I know that often, as writers, we tend to be writing thinking about what other writers will be thinking about our work. But as a reader, these things don't bother me. At all.

I know we talk about adverbs as things that slow down the pace and tempt readers to add our work to the DNF pile. And yes, in some cases, certain scenes could be tightened. But is there such a thing as too tight? Is it possible that the lack of adverbs can force our brain to try to create nuance out of thin air so that the scene makes sense? Could that also exhaust the reader after a while? We're not writing an inter-office memorandum about last quarter sales, are we?

I mean, I read books from the twenties and thirties, and never roll my eyes at the style and say "that's what things were like then. Adverbs everywhere." I do that for some of the more pointed cultural values, but the writing style? Nope. (NB: I am not talking about nineteenth century literature: Dickens can suck it.)

I am just wondering if our campaign for austerity is slightly unnecessary. The readers are our biggest judge. I am not saying that we should just start gaily dropping in adverbs everywhere (NOTE how that adverb transformed the mental image in a way that one single word would not have done. Does one single word even exist that would create the mental image of someone scattering with joyful abandon as efficiently? If it is, it might be one of those words that hasn't been used since 1600 and normally applied to how madmen feed chickens, and jarringly inaccessible to the readers. See? I did it again). I am just wondering if our commitment to "tightness" is actually making our work either 1. slightly less immersive/enjoyable to the reader, 2. that our efforts are working mostly to impress other writers (love you though I do, I'd rather every writer in the world think I'm rubbish and make pots and pots of money from an appreciative audience who has chosen to ignore that I am a bad writer...Hello Steven King. I was just talking about you), or that we are limiting ourselves with a commitment against a category of words that are efficient in lending nuance.

I don't know. For the moment, I am not using them in dialogue tags. "Said" is good enough for me. I am using them, moderately, to describe actions if I think they are needed. Probably this conversation will go round and round in circles with lots of people clutching their pearls about how ghastly they are, even though they know for a fact that if they read Agatha Christie tomorrow, her use of adverbs wouldn't even annoy you--not because "they didn't know better" but because she's a bloody good writer who takes you by the hand, invites you into her world, and keeps you there.

 

[Jonny]

A really good point and post, Jason.

I too have been frightened off from using them so I am 100% adverb averse in my work in dialogue. Ocassionally, I dare myself to leave one or two in first draft, but when it comes to the edit I bottle out (Brit expression for chicken out).

Stephen King, in his excellent On Writing, puts the boot in on adverbs in speech tags in no uncertain terms. Can't find the passage but he does. Trust me.

I think this falls into another "writing rule" that everyone thinks they MUST adhere to. Break it at your peril and run the risk of never being published, or worse still, have your peers laugh and point at you as you reveal yourself to be an incompetent hack.

And I can understand why this has come about. Writing teachers will say authoritivley .

"You there. Yes, you. If your writing is presented properly then there is no need for these traffic lights to amateurism. The tone and clour of the dialogue taken in tandem with the action etc. will convey the emotion without having to resort to these instruments of Satan."

Yet, as you have said and I experience all the time, in older books (often classics) they are used all over the pace. And again, as you are, I am blind to them in much the same way as we all are to said and says. I think we make the mistake that as writers ourselves then all readers are craft-driven and savvy. I suspect nothing could be further from the truth. There is so much guff out there, masquerading as holy writ, that we really have to be careful not to take it all on trust. Particularly from those fleecing the vulnerable for sharing their encyclopaedic knowledge and drums of snake oil .. err... I mean vast experience.

This is true. In real time as I compose this post, I've just opened (completely at random) page 240 of The Fellowship of the Ring and I immediatly see: "I can carry enough for two," said Sam defiantly. Clearly dear old JRR was a rank amateur.

So now having made some kind of defence for the much maligned poor little adverb as a speech tag, will I begin to pepper my dialogue with them? Strike a blow for their rehabilitation? Help them fight back?

Nah, that would make my stuff look pretty amateurish... or so I'm told.

 

[Josephine]

I wholeheartedly (sic) agree. Also, and this might get me kicked off Litopia, I think I have a similar thing about POV stuff, particularly what is often labelled "head hopping". Agree sometimes it's jarring, but I've read millions of books that slide between POV in one scene and never baulked at it until I came across the backlash on here. Now, I notice it: but only because I've had my attention drawn to it, and I still don't think, if it's done well, it's necessarily a problem.

[assumes brace position]

 

[Jason L.]

Here's my deep thought:

Publishing is brutal, and it's getting more so every day. We have a choice about what to believe, if we are rejected. Choice 1: My story isn't that good or engaging; Choice 2: My story is moderately engaging, but too far a leap for a timid publisher/agent/editor; Choice 3: My story is fine, but these little, semi-invisible things are annoying the agents, and they are sabotaging me; Choice 4: Economic forces outside my control dictate that there is little I can do. The quality of the story, therefore, is incidental.

The first choice is demoralizing. The second and third choices mean that things can be tweaked and softened. We can control this. The final choice is also demoralizing. So if things can be tweaked and softened, how? The anti-adverb crusade gives the author something that they can control, some means to "tighten up".

All of this applied before 2010 or so, when you had the rise of self-publishing--some of which is absolute rubbish and some of which is professionally edited. The book I am currently reading is professionally edited, dates from 2019 but is self-published by someone who's well-established in the MM/gay fiction genre (Lily Morton: The Mysterious and Amazing Blue Billings). That genre, which has traditionally made people in the publishing world incredibly squeamish (and still does today), was one of the first to embrace the self-publishing tide. With fewer gatekeepers, the traditional arbiters of taste have been swept aside, and only reader reaction matters. I think this hints at the artificiality of the edict.

 

[Hannah F]

Adverbs peppered through dialogue-tags like - well - pepper on your dinner are amateurish and very noticeable. But occasional dialogue tags thoughtfully placed, I believe, can enhance the immersive experience. Not everyone who talks quietly is whispering. I'm not afraid to use the occasional adverb with dialogue tag. I do think hard about each one I use, and if I think it portrays what I want to say more than any other way of writing it, I'll stick to my instinct. Same goes for other things we are told not to do e.g. if I omit a filler word and the emotion or transferred experience is also omitted, I'll put the filler back in. According to my reading experience, so do many well-established authors.
If it works, it works.

 

[Hannah F]

I wholeheartedly (sic) agree. Also, and this might get me kicked off Litopia, I think I have a similar thing about POV stuff, particularly what is often labelled "head hopping". Agree sometimes it's jarring, but I've read millions of books that slide between POV in one scene and never baulked at it until I came across the backlash on here. Now, I notice it: but only because I've had my attention drawn to it, and I still don't think, if it's done well, it's necessarily a problem.

[assumes brace position]

I agree with you, but smooth POV transitions aren't easy, and many, at the early stages of their writing careers, can make it clunky. I think the problem arises not from the switch in POV itself but that the writer doesn't quite understand POV, so their switches are unintentional. I've read great scenes with excellent, skilled use of switch and switch back POVs.

 

[Jason L.]

I think that headhopping, which is endemic in romance, is largely because if it is equally important how both people see a scene, you have three choices:

1. Headhop
   1. Pros: It can preserve the dynamism of a complex scene, and enables us to sort out friend and foe quickly.
   2. Cons: If done poorly, you're not sure whose eyes you're seeing it from, and people get snotty about it.
2. Retell the same incident from two separate points of view.
   1. Pros: If done very well, this will add a layer of perception to something you thought you knew. See The 7½ Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle
   2. Cons: Do it too much and it's very frustrating.
3. Decide which details are the most important and pepper them into later reflections.
   1. Pros: You've avoided headhopping and stayed in one POV.
   2. Cons: Since we're revisiting this scene in the thoughts or reminiscences of the second party, it's very deadening. What are they doing, physically? Sitting there thinking? Oh that's interesting. Also, in some cases, our first impression of the second party is now set in stone by the end of the first scene. In some cases, that's deliberate: See North & South or Pride & Prejudice. But in a romance, it can be a lot of headwind to get your reader to root for both people. They won't if their first impression isn't very carefully managed.

 

[Jason L.]

I think that I am taking a stand. Adverbs aren't evil. They are often more efficient.

Look at this example:

1. "Help me," she said.
2. "Help me," she said quietly.
3. "Help me," she said in a quiet voice.
4. She dropped her voice. "Help me."

1 could be anything. The tension comes from the interplay between an urgent command and the fact that it's done quietly.
2 is efficient. You read it and move on to the next line, where we find out what's going on.
3 is a little clunky.
4 is really visible. It might be very dynamic, but there can be too much of that in a story. Depending on what you're going through, it might be better to just move on to the next point. And notice that it can't go after the dialogue, or the brain couldn't process it.

 

[James Charles]

I read an interview years ago with Steven King who said, "99% of your dialogue tags should be 'said.' I have been told over and over again to show, and not tell.

So: She stepped closer, lowered her voice and said, "Help me."

Of course, we read best sellers that break all the rules.

 

[Jason L.]

We do read a lot of best-sellers that break the rules. And taken in context, the question is what is the best for this moment in the story. I think that the utter embargo on adverbs is artificial.

I am not a fan of Mr. King. Many people are, and he has a great ability to convey atmosphere. In some stories, that's about all there is to the story. Endless atmosphere and spookiness with no real reason why things are the way they are. I do not discount his advice, just that I take it with hesitation. His popularity might come from the kinds of stories he is successful telling, and the kinds of emotional veins he can tap into, rather than the specifics of his style.

 

[Dorm Ant]

I think that I am taking a stand. Adverbs aren't evil. They are often more efficient.

Look at this example:

1. "Help me," she said.
2. "Help me," she said quietly.
3. "Help me," she said in a quiet voice.
4. She dropped her voice. "Help me."

1 could be anything. The tension comes from the interplay between an urgent command and the fact that it's done quietly.
2 is efficient. You read it and move on to the next line, where we find out what's going on.
3 is a little clunky.
4 is really visible. It might be very dynamic, but there can be too much of that in a story. Depending on what you're going through, it might be better to just move on to the next point. And notice that it can't go after the dialogue, or the brain couldn't process it.

2 isn't efficient, it's clumsy.

 

[Brayati]

Adverbs can be wonderful things - and they are part of the grammatical language tool box (recall, though, that our grammar rules are based on Latin, not the language we use to speak and write).
The best adverbs don't alter a noun, but listen to something like this example for context:

Annoyingly proficient

How much of the viewpoint/perspective does that choice of words give you?
Personally, I don't like them for dialogue tags - unless it is imperative to the subtext of the dialogue.
Which means that 'quietly' can be useful, but if it's quiet and not yet quite a whisper, why is she being quiet? I'd want more 'around' the dialogue to give the context/subtext.
Her eyes flicked left, right, left again. "Help me," she mouthed.
That gives me more to create a visual effect. I know some people don't have the visual effect when reading, and when speaking to a few of these people (there's a word for non-visual effect reading: aphantasia?), they prefer a sprinkling of adverbs to 'cue them in' on the effects.

 

[Jason L.]

2 is not clumsy. If this I the only thing that you have to go in, it is the most efficient. If you want to create all these elaborate other scenarios to show and not tell, fine. Do that. I didn't. Maybe the focus of the scene is something else, and this would burden it too much and showing would actually detract from the impact of the big thing. In fact, maybe I am deliberately writing it to underemphasize that she is saying, so the reader won't register it as intensely as what happens next. It would therefore be understandable to the reader if the POV character also didn't register THAT as the major point of the scene. Or maybe we have a scene in which there is so much telling and ornamentation that we need to get through something quickly. This exchange might be it.

Don't turn your nose up at telling We all do it from time to time. The point of this entire question, though, was not how you, Brayati, perceive it. The question was, do the readers care that much? Do I, with my reader-only hat on, groan at adverbs? Not really. And judging from the sales and good reads comments of the books I have been reading, the writing style is absolutely the last thing on their minds.

 

[Brayati]

how you, Brayati, perceive it.

First I am a reader, and only after being a reader for many years did I become a writer. Of course, I still read, and call myself a reader. And I have nothing against telling in the right circumstances.
I can only answer a query based on my understanding, my perception. If you don't want an opinion, maybe don't ask for it.

My opinion:
As a reader, all I want is for the story to flow so easily over my senses that I don't register it as an external story, but as part of my inner self on that journey. Using adverbs to alter a verb (or noun) is often lazy writing, and it will flow over a reader's senses, but it won't create a strong 'feel' or 'visual'. Using an adverb with an adjective can make a strong juxtaposition that creates a compelling feel/visual. As a reader, it's the overall story that counts, not the style, but as a writer, it's the style that creates the story flow.

 

[Jason L.]

You seem to be perceiving that I am attacking you. I am not. I am defending my position just as you are. I am entitled to do so, just as you are. I am pointing out that the readers don’t tend to be irritated or obsessed with this to the degree the writer is, and it is a relatively recent obsession at that. Unless you would like to say that Agatha Christie, Harper Lee, Georgette Heyer, Robert Penn Warren or JRR Tolkien are lazy writers because they would have disagreed with Steven King’s advice. His advice is useful to create his voice but not their own.

And again, I am not saying that I will not fall in love with the adverbial аddition. I am questioning our revulsion for them. One should question things and evaluate them with deep thought.

 

[Brayati]

You seem to be perceiving that I am attacking you. I am not. I am defending my position just as you are. I am entitled to do so, just as you are. I am pointing out that the readers don’t tend to be irritated or obsessed with this to the degree the writer is, and it is a relatively recent obsession at that. Unless you would like to say that Agatha Christie, Harper Lee, Georgette Heyer, Robert Penn Warren or JRR Tolkien are lazy writers because they would have disagreed with Steven King’s advice. His advice is useful to create his voice but not their own.

And again, I am not saying that I will not fall in love with the adverbial аddition. I am questioning our revulsion for them. One should question things and evaluate them with deep thought.

It's not revulsion for adverbs, but the disconnect between character and reader. Most of the mentioned authors preferred that distance (and in some cases, it was the standard for the time). An adverb next to a verb indicates the verb is weak - how would that verb be better served, whether as a stronger verb, or an action, is a good question that is avoided by using an adverb and telling the reader how to interpret the context. Some people prefer this (younger male readers, the ones who don't get the visual mind-story, as examples), but knowing the audience is what indicates what works best for them.
And S King uses adverbs. Just because he says the road to hell is paved with them doesn't mean he doesn't use them knowingly.
I'm neither for nor against, depending on the targeted reader. HP (the early books) are full of the styles most suited to young male readers. Tells and adverbs abound, and that audience loved them, but found the later books (more show, fewer adverbs) to be slow and boring. My argument is to use the style most suited to the reader most likely to read that story. Make the story flow without obstructions. If that means adverbs, if that means tells, then so be it.
There is no revulsion, only a desire to learn how and why attitudes change, and how to adapt the styles to suit the 'new' crop of readers.

 

[RK Wallis]

Agatha Christie

I tried Miss Christie, but the exclamation marks were too distracting for me (and even telling myself these books were written in another time didn't help). I couldn't cope, and I was sorely disappointed because I wanted to experience her writing. Sorry, Christie fans!

HP (the early books) are full of the styles most suited to young male readers.

And that was a clever choice. JKR understood her audience.

Adverbs don't bother me, but they do remind me I'm reading writing and don't immerse me in the story, but I can still enjoy the story authors want to tell.

 

[Barbara]

I wonder if this obsession is one of our "writerly" fixations. ...... I think that the utter embargo on adverbs is artificial.

And it is also a way of going on to selling 'how to books' to writers, workshops, courses, and setting oneself up as someone who knows more than someone else.

...

I agree, it's an intellectual discussion among writers. That isn't a bad thing as such. We need craft. There are basic skills that need to be in place. But I do think craft can become an overinflated obsession for some writers, probably because that's all they have. It's hard to get the passion onto the page, so some cling on to techniques to try and make it happen.

Problem is, that 'thing' that makes great, immersive writing is the je ne sai quoi which can't be taught. It's something that can't be bottled or described. It's the underlying passion. The voice. The story and how we're telling it (plot, flow). Character. Humanity. Feelings. There's no recipe we can follow to create that kind of thing. Those who obsess about details like adverbs are trying to grasp that 'thing'.

I also think that writers do at times read differently compared to a general reader. Personally, I write for the general reader, not the writer.

To me, writing is like any other media, esp live music. An immersive experience: The audience won't hear the individual notes because hopefully they're busy dancing to the music.

 

[Jonny]

And it is also a way of going on to selling 'how to books' to writers, workshops, courses, and setting oneself up as someone who knows more than someone else.

...

I agree, it's an intellectual discussion among writers. That isn't a bad thing as such. We need craft. There are basic skills that need to be in place. But I do think craft can become an overinflated obsession for some writers, probably because that's all they have. It's hard to get the passion onto the page, so some cling on to techniques to try and make it happen.

Problem is, that 'thing' that makes great, immersive writing is the je ne sai quoi which can't be taught. It's something that can't be bottled or described. It's the underlying passion. The voice. The story and how we're telling it (plot, flow). Character. Humanity. Feelings. There's no recipe we can follow to create that kind of thing. Those who obsess about details like adverbs are trying to grasp that 'thing'.

I also think that writers do at times read differently compared to a general reader. Personally, I write for the general reader, not the writer.

To me, writing is like any other media, esp live music. An immersive experience: The audience won't hear the individual notes because hopefully they're busy dancing to the music.

I really could not agree with this more. Especially the last line.

 

[CageSage]

This was an interesting can of worms.
POV and adverb usage are closely linked, in my view. Using an adverb is describing from without (external), rather than from within. Using adverbs for POV character dialogue is a tool to create distance, and it can work or fall flat. Usually the latter. But it's quick and easy, and if it helps the reader's eyes flow through the section faster, that can be the effect sought.
But, as noted above re music and immersion can be aligned to the skills needed to write a story. Example: knowing grammar is a tool for writers doesn't mean the story has to be grammatically correct to be a good story, and good grammar can't make a story good. A tool is a tool, but passion and story are above and beyond all the individual tools. But, as with music, if you don't know the notes and instruments, the musicality isn't there.

 

[JohnBertel]

I too haven't been bothered reading books that use adverbs or other verbs than 'said' in the dialogue tags. But another question is: do they work? Do they actually do the jobs that the writer obviously wanted them to do?

It seems totally legit that nerds/experts in a field, not only look for elements that harm the finished product, but also for elements that just don't work and take up space.

One argument against adverbs in dialogue tags is that they (typically) come after the line, e.g. if they are to work, the readers must adjust their perception of something they have already read and perceived. I think this sounds reasonable from a common sense view, but I admit I know nothing of the psychology of reading. (So if anybody can recommend anything, please do )

 

[Pamela Jo]

And it is also a way of going on to selling 'how to books' to writers, workshops, courses, and setting oneself up as someone who knows more than someone else.

...

I agree, it's an intellectual discussion among writers. That isn't a bad thing as such. We need craft. There are basic skills that need to be in place. But I do think craft can become an overinflated obsession for some writers, probably because that's all they have. It's hard to get the passion onto the page, so some cling on to techniques to try and make it happen.

Problem is, that 'thing' that makes great, immersive writing is the je ne sai quoi which can't be taught. It's something that can't be bottled or described. It's the underlying passion. The voice. The story and how we're telling it (plot, flow). Character. Humanity. Feelings. There's no recipe we can follow to create that kind of thing. Those who obsess about details like adverbs are trying to grasp that 'thing'.

I also think that writers do at times read differently compared to a general reader. Personally, I write for the general reader, not the writer.

To me, writing is like any other media, esp live music. An immersive experience: The audience won't hear the individual notes because hopefully they're busy dancing to the music.

Wow, standing ovation!!! You put my feelings and thoughts into words so well. I just got slammed by a professional editor for a carefully chosen adverb. I'm pretty sure it was easier to point out that sin than explain to me what I really needed to know. Why the scene didnt work. It's a shibboleth. if you use an adverb then you aren't in the know. Go back to square one, put on your rube overalls and take my writing 101 seminar, now only one month's salary.
I bet Nadine Dorries uses adverb tags.

 

[Jake E]

Te

Wow, standing ovation!!! You put my feelings and thoughts into words so well. I just got slammed by a professional editor for a carefully chosen adverb. I'm pretty sure it was easier to point out that sin than explain to me what I really needed to know. Why the scene didnt work. It's a shibboleth. if you use an adverb then you aren't in the know. Go back to square one, put on your rube overalls and take my writing 101 seminar, now only one month's salary.
I bet Nadine Dorries uses adverb tags.

Terry Pratchett does; so if it's good enough for him...

 

[Hannah F]

"I adore adverbs in dialogue tags," she said sarcastically.

 

[Rich.]

"Don't we all!" he exclaimed effusively

 

[Rich.]

But occasional dialogue tags thoughtfully placed, I believe, can enhance the immersive experience.

Am (re)reading A Legacy of Spies by John le Carré (2017) [minor spoilers ahead], and came across a wonderfully placed adverb that I thought illustrated this point well.

At the beginning of the novel septuagenarian Peter Guillam is dragged out of retirement to face possible criminal charges for his involvement in a bungled espionage operation that took place a generation ago. Chapter 2 finds Peter being interrogated in a posh top-floor office by two British secret service lawyers – 'Bunny', a public-school-boy shark and 'Laura', a hard-nosed career-ladder-climber. The lawyers are trying to get Peter to talk about operation 'Windfall', but Peter doesn't want to. Tension builds throughout the chapter as the three characters verbally joust. We're first-person in Peter's POV. The characters are sitting around a desk piled high with old paper files. And the chapter finishes like this:

Bunny dips his head, consults something below the parapet. Laura looks first at me, then at her hands, which she prefers. Short fingernails like a boy’s, scrubbed clean.​

‘Peter’ – Bunny’s turn, firing in groups now, rather than single shots. ‘I am rather concerned, as the Service’s chief lawyer – not your lawyer, I repeat – by certain aspects of your past. That is to say, an impression could be created around you by skilful counsel down the line – if ever Parliament were to step aside and leave the field open to the courts, secret or other, which heaven forfend – that, in the course of your career, you were associated with a quite exorbitant number of deaths, and were callous about them. That you were assigned – let us say by the impeccable George Smiley – to covert operations where the death of innocent people was considered an acceptable, even necessary outcome. Even, who knows, a desired one.’​

‘Desired outcome? Death? What are you blabbering about?’​

‘Windfall,’ says Bunny patiently.​

And that final adverb hits you like a freight train. Like besuited Terminators these lawyers are utterly implacable, and you know they aren't going to stop until Peter is broken and Windfall's secrets are revealed. You know it, Peter knows it, and they know it. And you can't do anything but hungrily turn the page.

 

[Jason L.]

Am (re)reading A Legacy of Spies by John le Carré (2017) [minor spoilers ahead], and came across a wonderfully placed adverb that I thought illustrated this point well.

At the beginning of the novel septuagenarian Peter Guillam is dragged out of retirement to face possible criminal charges for his involvement in a bungled espionage operation that took place a generation ago. Chapter 2 finds Peter being interrogated in a posh top-floor office by two British secret service lawyers – 'Bunny', a public-school-boy shark and 'Laura', a hard-nosed career-ladder-climber. The lawyers are trying to get Peter to talk about operation 'Windfall', but Peter doesn't want to. Tension builds throughout the chapter as the three characters verbally joust. We're first-person in Peter's POV. The characters are sitting around a desk piled high with old paper files. And the chapter finishes like this:

Bunny dips his head, consults something below the parapet. Laura looks first at me, then at her hands, which she prefers. Short fingernails like a boy’s, scrubbed clean.​

‘Peter’ – Bunny’s turn, firing in groups now, rather than single shots. ‘I am rather concerned, as the Service’s chief lawyer – not your lawyer, I repeat – by certain aspects of your past. That is to say, an impression could be created around you by skilful counsel down the line – if ever Parliament were to step aside and leave the field open to the courts, secret or other, which heaven forfend – that, in the course of your career, you were associated with a quite exorbitant number of deaths, and were callous about them. That you were assigned – let us say by the impeccable George Smiley – to covert operations where the death of innocent people was considered an acceptable, even necessary outcome. Even, who knows, a desired one.’​

‘Desired outcome? Death? What are you blabbering about?’​

‘Windfall,’ says Bunny patiently.​

And that final adverb hits you like a freight train. Like besuited Terminators these lawyers are utterly implacable, and you know they aren't going to stop until Peter is broken and Windfall's secrets are revealed. You know it, Peter knows it, and they know it. And you can't do anything but hungrily turn the page.

That's a perfect example. There could be some ways to make that shown via a look or something, but when I read that my internal reader did exactly what it was supposed to do. It dragged out that word, supplied the facial expression, the set of shoulders, the look in the eye. I just got in one word what could have been several tedious sentences to explain, and this made my brain more interested and engaged in what happens next, rather than have a few seconds of distraction as he described how people move, sigh, square their shoulders, or fidget. I don't care about that. I care about the story and it was communicated efficiently.