The Age of the Modifier

Trend stories always include examples of a particular trend the author has noticed. The author uses the existence of a few cherry-picked instances to declare that a massive societal shift has definitely occurred. This leads the author into the opening he himself has conveniently created to write about that topic. Let’s pretend I already did all that and talk about the nation’s deepening adjective crisis.

Adjectives, for those of you who don’t traffic in words for a living, are the part of speech used to modify nouns. The adjectives in the following quote have been bolded:

“It is a really great car, even though it does not run and one of the rear doors is missing.”

Let’s call “great” a Status Adjective. While some adjectives are necessary to accurately convey information (like rear door), Status Adjectives such as great are more or less judgment calls. This is what makes them interesting. They reveal something about the person using them.

Now, somewhere in your brain, you're maybe sort of aware that the use of adjectives in writing is considered poor form. Adjectives ruin good prose. “Show. Don’t tell.” That’s what editors tell writers. Nouns and verbs show. Adjectives tell.

When you “show,” you let the reader integrate ideas, thoughts, and imagery. This is a rewarding experience for the reader because humans are constantly integrating information and enjoy seeing patterns. “Showing” can forge a bond between the writer and reader. It’s a hand reaching into the void, grasped.

When a writer does too much “telling,” it’s lazy. It’s easier to say a thing is bad than to describe it in a manner that gives readers the information they need to come to a conclusion on their own.

Insomuch as we talk about why adjectives are bad, that’s usually where the discussion ends — with how overusing them makes for bad writing because showing is superior to telling. Yet the status adjective is insidious for another reason. It is inherently restrictive. It’s limiting. It says, “This is the way it is, and you can either agree with me, or you can make it awkward and disagree.”

If you’d like to measure the degree to which a person seeks to impose their will rather than build a consensus, note how often he or she 1.) Speaks plainly and honestly and lets the listener decide OR 2.) Strafes their language with words that raise or lower a noun’s status. Someone who is constantly using status adjectives wants you to blindly accept what they say.

Oh, but I can still decide for myself, you say.

Let me paint a scenario…

Say there’s a politician who repeatedly calls someone bad. You in the crowd may not know whether or not this person is bad, but when 10,000 people around you roar in agreement, it certainly seems much more plausible that this person must be bad. Everyone around you seems to think so, and you all agree on a bunch of other things or else you wouldn’t be there together.

In this situation, the crowd itself becomes a type of adjective, modifying the speaker with praise. Now we have an adjective loop in which no one has to “show” anything. There is only “telling.” The louder the adjective, and the more often it’s repeated, the more comfortable everyone feels about repeating it. By injecting their speech with adjectives, a politician can project the appearance of wisdom, and a tribe forges bonds through acceptance of something never shown.

It's becoming increasingly clear that—and yes, a proper trend piece must include a Tom Friedman-esque turn of phrase—we live in the Age of the Modifier.

It’s stupid.