A few months ago, when I learned the name of this rhetorical device, I laughed out loud.
I couldn’t have told you the name, but I use it all the time.
Anadiplosis means a “doubling back” or a “making double,” referring to the practice of beginning a clause with the same word or phrase that ended the previous clause.
He had insisted that he didn’t want the orange, the orange that he was now stuffing in his mouth.
The team also contended with designing the building on a difficult site. The site sloped more than 30 feet from north to south…
The effect of anadiplosis is, appropriately, twofold:
- it clarifies what the author cares about in a sentence, and
- it generates a daisy-chain effect that can create a lovely rhythm.
It’s a device that I have to careful of, though, because repeated use creates a lofty, oratorical effect that feel out of place:
The dinner was awkward. Jane didn’t like Bob; Bob argued with everyone; everyone hated the sushi, even the cat, the cat that threw it up later that evening.
You can feel the need for a break from anadiplosis if you read it aloud. All that repetition feels awkward and even unnecessary.
My favored use of anadiplosis is to frame appositive clauses. Most of the time, a relative clause would serve just as well—but anadiplosis offers an opportunity to set a clause out a little more on its own.
This is more than a project. It’s an opportunity to rethink how we learn in school.
This is more than a project. It’s an opportunity—an opportunity to rethink how we learn in school.
I like this because it reflects how people speak, and humanizes the author a little bit, almost like you can hear them speaking to you.
Taylor Coe 