How to Write Better Similes
A Case Study using The Last Unicorn by Peter S Beagle
Method:
I flipped to random pages in The Last Unicorn by Peter S Beagle and found a line near my finger that struck me. What’s so special about this book is just how many lines like that there are:
“King Haggard’s castle teetered like a lunatic on stilts.” (112)
“Far out to sea, the combers were coming in: the long, heavy rollers, curling over white across their green hearts;” (266)
“Cully drew back his arm, and blades blinked among the men as though someone had blown on a heap of coals.” (85)
“The heavy lock giggled and whined like a mad monkey.” (23)
“His wise, benevolent face looked like the face of a drowned man and his beard dripped thinly from his chin, like stagnant water.” (168)
“His breath rasped like a knife on a grindstone.” (169)
(121) — nothing struck me
“She did not remember having heard the song before, but the words pinched and plucked at her like children, trying to drag her back to some place that they wanted to see again.” (215)
“She lunged after him, driving to kill, but she could not reach him. She might have been stabbing at a shadow, or at a memory.” (266)
“The gray trees in the east boiled over and the unicorn opened her eyes.” (21)
“The bull’s raging ignorance filled the sky and spilled over into the valley.” (134)
“A dozen horsemen, dressed in autumn rags, came galloping into the square, howling and laughing, scattering the townsfolk like marbles.” (67)
(215) — nothing struck me
“…even the afternoon sunlight had a tender, sneezy scent that Molly would have known anywhere.” (278)
“Of everything alive in the little room, only the cat and the silence seemed to look back at her with any understanding.” (193)
(30) — nothing struck me
“Behind him there fell a bright mist, shimmering like the sides of a fish.” (241)
“…as fine as cirrus.” (2)
“…restless as the torches on the walls…” (119)
“Schmendrick lighted down to support her, and she clutched him with both hands as though he were a grapefruit hull.” (293)
Question
What can I learn about writing from The Last Unicorn?
Method
I flipped to pages at random, making a point to alternate between odd and even sides of the book. You can see how random I was because twice I landed on page 266. Maybe the spine is creased. Starting wherever my eye fell, I skimmed through the page and recorded the most striking, imagery-ous-est line I found. If there was none, I noted so.
What qualifies as an imagery-ous-est line? I’m glad you asked because it’s extremely scientific. It usually evokes a strong image, but more importantly, it is a line that humbles me, that makes me think, “wow I could never write like that.”
You have to read things that humble you if you ever want to be a writer.
Results
So what did I find? You saw the data above yourself. Out of twenty pages randomly chosen, I found three where I couldn’t find an imagery-ous-est line. That means the Peter S Beagle was successful in humbling me on 85% of pages. Not bad.
But how did he humble me? What can I learn from the way Beagle writes?
Of the seventeen entries in consideration, I found twenty-three effective imagery devices. Twelve were similes, four were descriptions that invoked the senses, three were metaphors, three were personification and one was hyperbole.
The most resonant — though not surprising — result to me is the preponderance of similes. And not just similes. This book drips with good similes.
What Makes a Simile Good?
I didn’t even really think that similes could be good until I read The Last Unicorn. In school I was taught that similes were amateurish or “easy” to do, that they didn’t communicate as strongly as a metaphor might.
Take this example:
She was tall as a tree.
She was a tall tree.
From my perspective, the latter example — the metaphor — evokes the stronger image because it’s cleaner. It uses fewer words. The simile draws attention to the comparison: the “as” SCREAMS “this is a comparison, she was not actually a tree, do not be confused, reader!”
It’s pandering.
So why are Beagle’s so good? Why aren’t his pandering?
I keep thinking about this one: “as fine as cirrus.” He’s describing the unicorn’s mane, saying it’s “soft as dandelion fluff and as fine as cirrus.” (“Soft as dandelion fluff” is quite good too, but it was on the prior page, not the one I opened on randomly). It engages the senses. For many of us, dandelion fluff is a familiar sensation, and while far fewer of us have ever touched cirrus — a type of high-altitude cloud — we can imagine what it feels like easily enough. To me it’s soft and cool, and maybe damp, like cotton candy left out in a drizzle.
So, a good simile engages the senses. What else?
“A dozen horsemen, dressed in autumn rags, came galloping into the square, howling and laughing, scattering the townsfolk like marbles.” This simile is so beautiful because it engages the senses — I can see the marbles scattering, even hear them — and it’s… unexpected. It’s funny. That levity works well because it’s so incongruent with the idea of the horsemen charging into town. Incongruence sharpens the comparison, makes the image more vivid. Go back through the list and think about how many of his similes have unexpected comparisons. It’s most of them.
“Behind him there fell a bright mist, shimmering like the sides of a fish.” Again, it’s funny, and if I were to write about mist, an analogy to the sides of a fish wouldn’t be even the seventieth comparison I tried. Yet it works, it totally engages the senses and I can see the way the mist is shimmering.
I see it better because it’s so unexpected, I pause and think “wait, do the sides of a fish shimmer?” and then I imagine it, and I can translate that image to the mist. (What I just described is called thinking. Crazy idea, isn’t it?).
Closing
So, Beagle’s similes sometimes engage the senses; sometimes they’re unexpected, even funny on occasion. Others are just… eloquent. “She did not remember having heard the song before, but the words pinched and plucked at her like children, trying to drag her back to some place that they wanted to see again.”
The verb choices — “pinched and plucked” — are exact. I can see the little hands working. And the agency of the words, “trying to drag her back…” evokes magic. The words are the children and they are dragging Lady Amalthea back through her memory.
It’s beautiful.
So, how do you make your similes better? Evoke the senses, make unexpected comparisons that pause the reader, and use precise language.
Also, read The Last Unicorn by Peter S Beagle.
If you want to get your hands on a copy of The Last Unicorn and your local library isn’t open, check out my Bookshop page. I make a nominal fee on any books you purchase through this link, so thanks for considering.
Interesting piece.