The perfect use of language doesn’t happen to me as often as I’d like, and I’m always thrilled when it does. In this case, it’s a description of music from the novel The Art of Fielding, by Chard Harbach, just out in paperback:
“The door marked 405 stood slightly ajar, and bleepy, bloopy music came through the gap.”
“Bleepy bloopy music” – in the context of the novel, it’s the perfect use. I’ve been thinking about this description for days. I’ve been saying “bleepy bloopy” out loud a lot. I like the book, but even if I didn’t, I’d love this description.
Language makes me so happy. Language used incredibly well makes me ecstatic.