Literary notes about hammered (AI summary)
The word "hammered" is a remarkably versatile descriptor in literature, used both to depict tangible physical force and to evoke a sense of figurative transformation. Authors use it literally to portray the shaping of metal or construction of objects—metal is fashioned by being hammered into sheets or goods are secured with nails ([1],[2],[3],[4])—while simultaneously employing the term metaphorically to suggest the relentless exertion of effort, as when a character "hammers out" a syllabus or essay with determination ([5],[6]). Beyond its connotations of physical labor, "hammered" captures the intensity of experience, be it the overwhelming pounding against a door ([7]) or even the figurative impact of forceful emotions, such as in the dramatic description of a mind being "hammered into a pulp" ([8]). This dual usage enriches narrative descriptions by encapsulating both the cold, methodical work of crafting and the raw energy of passionate expression.
- It is made of four strong hammered sheets of iron 1-2 millimetres thick, with other strengthening plates laid on.
— from A Complete Guide to Heraldry by Arthur Charles Fox-Davies - The smiths hammered hard at the nails and other ironwork.
— from The Memoirs of the Conquistador Bernal Diaz del Castillo, Vol 1 (of 2) by Bernal Díaz del Castillo - And he hammered and wrought them into a new sword, so sharp that fire seemed to burn along its edges.
— from The Red Fairy Book - The door must first be lifted into its proper position, and then hammered shut.
— from Life's Minor Collisions by Frances Lester Warner - You are a student, so they say; You hammered out the other day A syllabus, from what we know
— from This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald - And next day Martin Eden cast hack-work aside, and at white heat hammered out an essay to which he gave the title, “The Philosophy of Illusion.”
— from Martin Eden by Jack London - She mounted another horse, without waiting to saddle him, and hammered on our door just as we were going to bed.
— from My Ántonia by Willa Cather - Then the wall opposite me flashed into a golden yellow and dissolved with a rending thunder that hammered my brain into a pulp.
— from The Thirty-Nine Steps by John Buchan
