I do solemnly swear... by Alan McClure

 

Earlier this week I followed a thread in a facebook group for children’s writers. A member had asked a question regarding the appropriate use (very occasional, carefully framed) of expletives in YA literature. A host of helpful responses outlined the attitude of the publishing industry and the likely advice of agents, which could be generally summed up as, “For goodness’ sake, don’t do it. Parents, teachers and librarians will object and it will make your work less publishable."

I absolutely appreciate that for many writers the desire to achieve publication is paramount, and for good reason – it validates our compulsion to write, gets our work to its audience and in many ways helps us to hone our craft. But a few things revealed in the discussion really troubled me. I don’t doubt that the advice given was accurate and borne of hard-won experience, but my hackles instantly rise at any advice that potentially limits a writer’s expressive palette.

I should admit, early on, that I’m a big fan of a bit of well-placed swearing. There are those who strongly object to it, and I don’t altogether dismiss their concerns – but there are also those who strongly object to references to religious inclinations other than their own, sexual orientations they don’t share, and scientific data which ill fit their world view. Strong objections are interesting to hear and should be aired freely, but should never be the ultimate arbiter of what we can and cannot say. Swearing, I sincerely believe, is amongst the greatest joys of language – spontaneous, visceral, enlivening, it provides an instant release for pent-up emotions and a rich percussion to the music of speech.

Now, I’m not a complete eejit – as a primary school teacher I’m very aware that there are situations in which it is inappropriate. In over a decade in front of classes I’m pleased to say I’ve never slipped into fluent Anglo-Saxon, whatever the provocations (and there have been many!). It is perfectly possible to address every issue, reflect on every problem and discuss every conflict without recourse to four letter words. Note, if you will, my admirable restraint in writing these posts – nary an f-bomb will you find.

The thing is, I neither want to write about nor read about characters who are exclusively of a primary teacher’s mindset. I want to see realistic interactions in books. I want to see situations that reflect real life as I’ve experienced it, even if they’re taking place in fantastical settings. My armoury of expletives was honed, sharpened and polished as a primary school pupil, and to this day I seldom meet folk with quite such a liberal creativity in the field as the pre-teen lads and lasses with whom I shared my schooldays. I know perfectly well that the kids I teach are as well versed in this field of linguistics as Billy Connolly at his most florid, and while I’m happy for them to reserve it for the playground (it would cause pandemonium in the classroom) I’m not such a hypocrite as to suppose that exposure to a certain collection of letters on a page will fry their innocent young brains beyond repair.

We urgently want our children to read. We urgently want them to see themselves in books, and to relate the power of the written word to the power of the spoken word. YA books frequently deal with complex relationships, extreme violence, themes of horror, loss, sexual awakenings and all manner of grittiness, but for me this is instantly defused when characters resort to anodyne substitute curses like ‘effing’, ‘blinking’ and ‘flipping’. We take our young readers for fools when we slot these unsatisfactory nonsenses into dialogue and I’ve no doubt we dilute their enjoyment of the work.

If a writer feels that swearing is a sign of low character, then use it as a marker of low character. If a writer feels it is sign of limited vocabulary, then use it sparingly alongside the most gloriously erudite vocabulary you can muster. We are slowly and painfully getting to the point where colloquialisms and minority languages are being accepted in children’s writing (and a big shout-out is due to indie publishers for leading this charge) but there remains a censoriousness in mainstream publishing that assumes no agency on the part of our young readers. We, as writers, have a duty to present the full range of expressive possiblity that language provides, and to trust our readers to make their own judgements.

Of course it is up to the individual writer how they wish to express themselves, and for many, if not most, that will include a degree of self-censorship in the interests of avoiding unecessary conflict. For all my ranting above, I don’t personally pepper my writing with the sort of language I delight in whilst blethering with pals down the pub. But I have grave concerns when I read of an industry-wide orthodoxy that renders writing, particularly of dialogue, unrealistic, enfeebled and limited: I fear it is likely to drive potential readers further towards other art-forms (TV, films, video games) which suffer from no such delicacy. At a time when the news daily throws up political language of the utmost callousness, cruelty and entitlement, all couched in polished, expletive-free verbiage, I feel an urgent need to liberate the earthy, universal honesty of a good old swear.