Wicked Alliteration

I taught English for several years largely because I needed a change of pace – a fresh start, as it were. I’d been certified for years without actually teaching the subject, so while I was technically qualified, I didn’t actually have much idea what I was doing.

As it turned out, that mattered less than it might have in other circumstances. I moved to a high poverty urban district where I was assigned mostly freshmen classes – meaning they were all coming to us straight out of failing schools already under some sort of alternative governance and so forth. Most of the first semester was spent learning how to be a high school student, with a little reading, grammar, and discussion thrown in as circumstances allowed.

Thank goodness.

I did my best, and I’d like to think I got a bit better at it along the way. I was glad several years later to be offered a position in the history department. I’m still not sure I’m having much impact academically, but at least I know what I’m talking about in terms of the content and basic skills.

There’s one thing I really miss about ELA classes however – literary devices. You know, metaphors, onomatopoeia, imagery, symbolism, and other fun stuff like that. One that particularly surprised me in terms of its impact and omnipresence was alliteration – the repetition of consonant sounds close together in a passage or phrase. Obviously I already understood the basics, but I’d never really paid much attention before. As it turns out, alliteration is super easy to explain and recognize, but difficult to analyze in terms of its purpose or impact.

It does stuff, but unless someone intuitively “gets it,” it’s tricky to express just what “stuff” it does. This is my effort to explain alliteration to anyone not already enmeshed in its glories.

(1) Alliteration is catchy. It helps stuff stick in our brains. We know it works because of all the stuff we remember without always considering why – Coca Cola, Peter Parker, DoorDash, PayPal, LifeLock, Dunkin’ Donuts, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Bruce Banner, etc. It’s also in numerous cliches and catch phrases, helping us remember them even when we overlook the alliteration itself:

“‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

“The grass is always greener…”

“Ignorance is bliss.” (sssss)

“It’s a labor of love.”

“Who put a bee in your bonnet?”

“Are you a man or a mouse?”

You get the idea. Alliteration makes things easier to remember.

(2) Alliteration is sometimes used just to show off. There’s nothing wrong with this; language is intended to do many things, one of which is to entertain.

Tongue twisters are the most obvious examples. They’re not usually designed for emotional impact or thematic subtlety – they’re just hard to say real fast and that makes them “fun.”

Rap and hip-hop (I’m told there’s a difference) like to use rapid-fire alliteration as well. While the lyrical choices often have import beyond technical impressiveness, the wordplay is part of what makes the genre so appealing to listen to but difficult to emulate (although that doesn’t stop way too many youngsters from trying).

Here’s an example from Tupac Shakur’s “If I Die 2night

They say p**** and paper is poetry, power and pistols – plotting on murdering mother******* ’fore they get you

Picturing pitiful punk n***** copping pleas, puffin’ weed as I position myself to clock G’s

My enemies scatter in suicidal situations, never to witness the wicked s*** that they was facing

Pockets is packed with presidents, pursue your riches – evading the player-hating tricks, while hitting switches…

I’m sick of psychotic society, somebody save me – addicted to drama, so even mama couldn’t raise me…

It in no way diminishes the emotional message to suggest that the overabundance of ‘p’ sounds (broken up only by the ‘s’ and ‘w’ phrases) is largely there for the same reason as elaborate guitar solos in classic rock or high notes in jazz – just to show they can do it.

(3) Alliteration reinforces tone, mood, or theme. This is the most “legit” of the three, and the trickiest to recognize and understand – partly because it’s somewhat subjective and partly because when it’s too noticeable, it loses its effectiveness. Like makeup or salt, alliteration is at its most effective – at least from a literary standpoint – when it compliments what’s already there, not when it becomes the focus.

Many teachers introduce literary devices by highlighting examples from popular music. Even if students don’t know every song, these examples tend to be more accessible than traditional poetry or prose – that’s why they’re on the radio, after all.

Here’s one you’ll find anytime you search the internet for examples of alliteration…

When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me

Speaking words of wisdom, “Let it be.”

And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me

Speaking words of wisdom, “Let it be.”

Notice how the alliteration emphasizes the emotion:

“times of trouble” – the “t” sound is a bit of an aural irritant, almost sharp in your ears

“Mother Mary comes to me” – in addition to the religious allusion, “m” sounds are soft and comforting

“words of wisdom” – “w” sounds are also soft, almost warm

A moment later, “speaking” becomes “whisper” – doubling down on the alliteration while adding a touch of onomatopoeia to further enhance the quiet, comforting tone. (This contrasts nicely with the emotions in the Tupac example above. You can discuss how ‘p’ and ‘s’ sounds differ from ‘m’ and ‘w’ sounds. You may feel a bit silly, but it will stick.)

Songs from Broadway musicals are an easily overlooked gold mine of literary devices as well. Because they’re intended to be performed live, songs from this genre must use every tool at their disposal to communicate the maximum amount of information to the listener the first time through. They tend to be a bit richer in content than the average pop song, but far more accessible than legit “poetry.” Just like in other genres, alliteration is often at its most effective when you hardly notice it:

Oklahoma, where the wind comes sweeping down the plains, and the waving wheat can sure smell sweet when the wind comes right behind the rain…

Other than the momentary tangent into “sure smell sweet” (a use of ‘s’ sounds which somehow emphasizes sweetness as a characteristic as much as it does as a word) that’s a LOT of ‘w’ action. Then again, for a song which includes actual whooping (“And when we say, ‘Ee-ee-ow! A-yip-i-o-ee-ay!’”), perhaps it’s only appropriate it begins with a strong dose of ‘wuh’.

One of my favorite alliterative cornucopias is “Defying Gravity” from the ridiculously popular musical Wicked. The two main characters are Glinda (the “good” witch who helps the Munchkins) and Elphaba (soon to be known as the “Wicked Witch of the West”). This is a “moment of decision” song and closes out the first act.

Glinda (to Elphaba): “I hope you’re happy! I hope you’re happy now! I hope you’re happy how you hurt your cause forever! I hope you think you’re clever!”

Elphaba (to Glinda): “I hope you’re happy! I hope you’re happy, too! I hope you’re proud how you would grovel in submission to feed your own ambition!”

Together: “So though I can’t imagine how, I hope you’re happy right now!”

Just listen to all those “h” sounds. The exasperation in their voices is supported by syllables which sigh and huff at one another. Change the line to something like “I guess you’re happy!” or “I hope you’re satisfied!” and something important is lost even if the same basic meaning remains.

Glinda’s tone soon changes from frustrated to imploring…

Glinda: (spoken) “Elphie, listen to me. Just say you’re sorry…” (singing) “You can still be with the Wizard – what you’ve worked and waited for. You can have all you ever wanted…”

Elphaba: (spoken) “I know…” (singing) “But I don’t want it – no, I can’t want it anymore…”

The new tone is again reinforced by effective alliteration. From “listen… say you’re sorry” to the much softer “with the Wizard… worked and waited… wanted…” The line could just as easily have been “all you’ve hoped and waited for,” or “you can have all you’ve ever dreamed of,” but those just aren’t the same.

Speaking of which…

Elphaba: “Something has changed within me – something is not the same. I’m through with playing by the rules of someone else’s game. Too late for second-guessing, too late to go back to sleep. It’s time to trust my instincts – close my eyes, and leap!”

The alliteration evolves rapidly here as Elphaba undergoes her own dramatic transformation. (Yes, musical types really think this way.) The early ‘s’ sounds harken back to Glinda’s “say you’re sorry,” but also seem a bit plaintive. They continue with “through” (not quite an ‘s’, but certainly close), “rules,” “someone else’s,” “second-guessing,” “sleep,” “instincts,” and “close my eyes” – all without sounding like someone selling seashells by the seashore. That’s the difference between the mechanics and the artistry – when done well, the alliteration gets you emotionally and holistically long before you’re even aware of the logistics.

Remember those “times of trouble” we mentioned above, with the sharp ‘t’ sounds? We get those here as well, overlapping with all the ‘s’ action. “It’s time to trust my instincts…” As Elphaba claims her own agency, her words become less warm and soft and more assertive – in sound as well as meaning.

The second verse repeats this alliterative transition with the same consonants but more specific words:

Elphaba: “I’m through accepting limits ‘cuz someone says they’re so – some things I cannot change, but ‘til I try, I’ll never know! Too long I’ve been afraid of losing love I guess I’ve lost. Well, if that’s love, it comes at much too high a cost!”

You probably noticed the multiple ‘s’ variations (“through,” “accepting,” “limits,” and of course “‘cuz someone says they’re so,” etc.) followed by the more assertive ‘t’ sounds (“but ‘til I try… too long…”). This time around we get a third alliterative syllable – “losing,” “love,” “lost,” “well,” “love” (again), and so forth, before hitting those ‘t’ assertions again – “it comes at much too.”

Such excessive alliteration works because it supports the characterization, mood, and story being advanced in the song – it never steps over it. Literary devices should serve the writing, not the other way around.

Not all uses of alliteration are quite so extreme or carry such dramatic impact. Usually it’s simply sprinkled here and there to help the writer’s thoughts and ideas sound more intentional and perhaps a bit more creative or interesting. No amount of literary flourish can bring meaning to something meaningless, but the right touch here and there can help grab – and hold – the reader’s or listener’s attention long enough for them to at least give it a chance.