Voice

Voice is the personality a piece of writing seems to have. It comes from the specific words a writer picks, the length and rhythm of their sentences, and what they choose to say directly versus what they leave for the reader to feel on their own. Two writers can describe the exact same event and end up with two completely different voices, because voice is not about what happened. It is about who is telling it, and how. A reader trusts a voice long before they can explain why, the same way you trust a person's tone before you trust their words.

Writers build voice through small, repeated choices rather than one big decision. A writer who wants urgency might use short sentences and drop unnecessary words. A writer who wants a voice that sounds reflective might use longer sentences that circle back on themselves. Punctuation carries voice too. A writer who cuts commas and lets sentences run creates a breathless voice. A writer who uses short, clipped sentences creates a voice that sounds controlled, even guarded. Word choice matters just as much. A poet who calls something a dwelling creates a different voice than one who calls the same thing a house, even though both words point to the same object. Every choice adds up. By the end of a poem, those choices form a voice the reader recognizes and trusts, or doesn't.

Rita Joe, a Mi'kmaq poet from Whycocomagh, Cape Breton, wrote a poem called "Shanawdithit," published in her 1988 collection Song of Eskasoni: More Poems of Rita Joe. The poem tells the story of Shanawdithit, one of the last known Beothuk people of Newfoundland, using plain, unadorned language. Joe does not reach for dramatic or ornate words to describe her death. She writes a line like "the last martyr of Taqmkuk" and lets the simplicity of the phrase carry the weight instead of piling on adjectives. That restraint is Joe's voice. She trusts the facts to land hard without extra decoration. A less controlled voice might have turned Shanawdithit's story into melodrama. Joe's plain voice turns it into testimony.

Writers choose a voice the way an actor chooses how to deliver a line. Quiet words land differently than shouted ones, even when the words themselves stay the same. Readers notice this before they notice much else about a poem. When you read a poem, ask yourself not just what it says but how it decided to say it. That decision is the voice, and writers rarely leave it to chance.

Before You Read

Hold these questions in mind as you read "Shanawdithit." Where in the poem does Joe's plain language hit hardest, and why do you think she chose restraint instead of drama at that exact moment? What would change about the poem's effect on you if she had reached for bigger, more dramatic words instead?