White does not write of faraway places. He keeps everything firmly grounded in the here and the now. He writes of what he knows, which usually involves farming, Maine, New York, and other every day occurrences. However, as Angell points out, White writes about movement—“the rush of the day, the flood and ebb of the icy Penobscot tides, the unsettlements of New England weather, the arrival of another season and its quick (or so it seems) dispersal, the birth and death of livestock, and the coming of a world war that is first seen at a distance.” In this movement, White finds clarity in his surroundings. He makes sense of change by writing of movement, whether it is movement from an actual place or from a point of view. His essay “Education,” published in March 1939, is a prime example of this. White begins the essay talking about his son’s third grade teacher. The woman eased his son’s shift from city school to country school (White moved to Maine from New York), and White describes his son’s comings and goings from the schoolhouse. Then rather abruptly, the essay is in New York again at a dentist’s office. And all of a sudden the essay ends talking of the trees along Fifth Avenue. These transitions are so sudden that the reader cannot miss them. In one transition, White’s son describes the school day “just like lighting,” to emphasize its speed.
White wrote about the rhythm of every day life, and his prose reflects this beat (Sims). In "Sunday Morn," he uses repetition to create a sing-song rhythm, allowing the reader to move swiftly through the piece:
"This house, this house now held in Sunday's fearful grip, is a hundred and twenty years old. I am wondering what Sabbaths it has known. Here where I sit, grandfather H. used to sit, they tell-- always right here."
White repeats "this house" and "sit." He begins one sentence with "here," which then moves back to the past with his grandfather, but then quickly circles back to the present by ending the sentence with the same world. This is what is most striking about White's use of movement: while he is often moving someplace, he seems content simply returning to where he started. This may be why readers find comfort and familarity in White's work. It never goes too far in the future or in the past, and White always manages to connect his ideas with every day life. He warns against such things in "Removal." "[Television] with the tabs, the mags, and the movies, it will insist that we forget the primary and the near in favor of the secondary and the remote." If there is to be movement, White determines, it should all circle back to the here and now. Also, he often uses alliteration to emphasize movement. In “Education,” White is waiting for a school bus that, “seeing us waiting at the cold curb, it would sweep to a halt, open its mouth, such the boy in, and spring away.” He uses the “s” sound to hurriedly bring us through the sentence, not because he doesn’t think it is important, but because he wants his readers to feel the rush he is feeling.
White wrote about the rhythm of every day life, and his prose reflects this beat (Sims). In "Sunday Morn," he uses repetition to create a sing-song rhythm, allowing the reader to move swiftly through the piece:
"This house, this house now held in Sunday's fearful grip, is a hundred and twenty years old. I am wondering what Sabbaths it has known. Here where I sit, grandfather H. used to sit, they tell-- always right here."
White repeats "this house" and "sit." He begins one sentence with "here," which then moves back to the past with his grandfather, but then quickly circles back to the present by ending the sentence with the same world. This is what is most striking about White's use of movement: while he is often moving someplace, he seems content simply returning to where he started. This may be why readers find comfort and familarity in White's work. It never goes too far in the future or in the past, and White always manages to connect his ideas with every day life. He warns against such things in "Removal." "[Television] with the tabs, the mags, and the movies, it will insist that we forget the primary and the near in favor of the secondary and the remote." If there is to be movement, White determines, it should all circle back to the here and now. Also, he often uses alliteration to emphasize movement. In “Education,” White is waiting for a school bus that, “seeing us waiting at the cold curb, it would sweep to a halt, open its mouth, such the boy in, and spring away.” He uses the “s” sound to hurriedly bring us through the sentence, not because he doesn’t think it is important, but because he wants his readers to feel the rush he is feeling.