Chiasmus—Linguistic Gymnastics to Muscle up Your Writing

Learn how to make words do a Triple Lutz or Double Salchow

Circus Acrobat with Ball, gelatin silver print by Ilse Bing, 1936 — public domain collection Art Institute Chgo

Chiasmus is a writing technique in which the order of words in two parallel phrases is reversed. It’s kind of like a mirror that exploits the contrast or connection between the two. There is an abundance of classic examples you’ve heard but may not have recognized as a thing.

For example: Ask not what your country can do for you — ask what you can do for your country. I feel like JFK’s writer handed the English language a mirror and said, “Hey, bet you won’t forget this face.” And voila, chiasmus was born — a phrase so nice, it flips itself twice.

That’s not the only presidential verbal legerdemain: It’s not the years in your life that count; it’s the life in your years. — attributed to Abraham Lincoln.

And think about the old saw that if your nose itches, you’re either going to kiss a fool or have a fight with someone. Maybe that inspired Dr. Mardy Grothe to quip, “Never let a fool kiss you or a kiss fool you.”

Ever heard a sentence so perfectly mirrored that it feels like your brain is doing Olympic quality cartwheels? That’s chiasmus — like language decided to dazzle us with a rhetorical flip-flop. If you want to experiment with the technique, imagine you’re at a writing Cirque du Soleil, and make your words bend, twist, and reverse, all while keeping their meaning intact.

Here are a few reflections I’m claiming as my own, but I never know if my “original words” rise up out of something I’ve read or heard. Apologies if these belong to someone else.

Inspired by a favorite book, The Prophet: “In laughter, find your sorrows, and in sorrows, find your laughter.”

“Your words shape your thoughts, and your thoughts shape your words” is akin to Lao Tzu’s idea that our thoughts become our words.

Like any skilled writer, I try to avoid cliches, but sometimes those homey ideas work — I can always freshen them up like this: “In giving, you receive, and in receiving, you give.”

The next time you want to power up your rhetoric or sound extra philosophical, whip out a chiasmus. It’s not about flipping the flapjack but about making the flapjack flip back to you.