Blogger: Etta Wilson
Location: Books & Such Nashville office
Weather: Upper 80s
While thinking about the sensual appeal in the words we read and write, I came across references to the sense of smell in Barbara Kingsolver’s The Poisonwood Bible. Several characters in that blistering saga of African life made some comment about the lack of smell in the U.S. or the way we try to cleanse our belongings and atmosphere of any strong scent or unpleasant odor. Kingsolver uses smells and odors a good bit in both the literal and the symbolic sense in her writing. It made me start sniffing more and wondering to what extent the blind use their sense of smell for cues. I rarely incorporate any mention of an odor when I write; yet I read recently that the sense of smell is one of the longest lasting as opposed to eyesight or hearing.
Without seeing, I think I could tell when I enter a library from the smell of books. That paper and ink odor is so distinctive. Remember the Scratch and Sniff books for young children–some pretty accurate and some not. Authors of adult books seem more inclined to use odor in a negative sense, particularly in Gothics or mysteries. There are references to “smelling a rat” or “the smell of blood.” In the romantic fiction arena, authors tend to use sweet or intoxicating fragrances. And we use the generally positive reference of “smell the roses” meaning to enjoy life. Has anybody checked their cookbooks for references to cooking by smell? Is there a difference between the smell of a pound cake cooked for 45 minutes and one cooked for an hour and a half? Either time frame makes me salivate!
Try watching for words or phrases that refer to the sense of smell as you write. It could give your work a very distinctive aroma!
I was thinking about this just a couple of days ago. I’d like to write a story where some of the action takes place in a country overseas that I’ve never had the pleasure of visiting. I could gather information from books and videos, but I determined I would never be able to write as accurate a description as I would upon visiting it myself. What about the smells? The intensity of the heat? The feel of the leaves on trees? And, if I were to be brave enough, the taste of their cuisine?
I’m currently working on a novel now with a blind character and I’ve used smell quite a bit in the book since my hero can’t see. Also, my husband is blind and he can smell a heck of a lot better than I can. He says he can smell the rain coming.
I had the same reaction to “The Poisonwood Bible” and have been more conscious of scent since then–and I think she’s right. Sitting here at my desk with the kitchen in sight, the only thing I can smell is the flowers left over from my daughter’s birthday. I’m astonished at how often I can’t smell anything–and I’ve tried.
Of course that means when a scent does register, it catches my attention and makes me hunt down the source.
I’ve read novels in the last couple years in which references are made to people’s breath–the chocolatey scent appears on teenager’s breaths. I can’t tell if that interests me or is just a little too much information . . . Is it better than mouthwash?
I don’t think I want to know!
I hadn’t thought of this before you shared, Michelle, but the sense of smell does tend to be even more subjective than taste when it comes to individual preferences. We’d almost all agree that flowers look lovely, but whether or not we enjoy even generally pleasant smells depends on so many other factors. I wonder if writers sometimes shy away from describing odors because they can’t always be sure it will create the desired effect?
For example, in a historical western, I referred to “the warm, animal smell of the barn,” and my hero’s leather jacket “smelled of hay and beasts and coffee–the fragrance of a man.” One crit partner commented, “Mmmm…I know just what you mean.” Another commented, “Ew!” 🙂 I had to make sure readers would understand that my heroine thought those things smelled good and had a positive response.
Lynn, I would respond very well to your ‘man’ smells. I find scents very hard to describe without simply telling the source of the smell. I just finished a Tony Hillerman. His Navajo detective, Jim Chee, frequently learned information by noticing scents that didn’t ‘belong’.
The smell of a book is one of the reasons I’ve never really been too excited about e-readers. There are sensory aspects to reading that it just can’t duplicate (maybe a Scratch’n’Sniff Kindle?) And a used bookstore smells even better than a bakery to me. Mmmmm …
Smells also trigger some of our earliest or strongest memories and it can be very powerful to incorporate those into writing. I been trying to pay attention to the ways writers use smells and also they ways they indicate whether it’s a good smell or not. It’s been a really valuable exercise.
Wendy – We lived in Venezuela for awhile – Puerto La Cruz (Ok – Ok – it was rough duty for me… island in the Caribbean… what can I tell you? Steve on the other hand worked day and night.)
Each Saturday not far from our apartment, there was a farmer’s market under a tent. Whatever you wanted to purchase you gathered into bags and set them all on a scale together – 50 cents US a kilo.
One of the great disappointments in returning to the States was a trip to the grocery store – an Albertson’s in Houston. Nothing smelled like what it was. Cilantro, tomatoes, potatoes, lettuce, garlic – none had the rich smells – and sadly nor the tastes – of food from that market. That was 9 years ago now. This year I was brave enough to have a garden – my FIRST at 51!!! Didn’t turn out too badly. But wow – did I learn that next year – the zucchini will have PLENTY of room. It about took us over.
Karen, glad to hear about your garden. I’ve just seen Julia and Julie, and my favorite scenes were the grocery shopping ones. I do recall Julia smelling so many things, but can’t remember Julie doing the same. Interesting!
Etta