Just happened. I’ve made two phone calls to two airlines for a reservation. My questions were the same, and their answers were similar. Both were female voices. Same information, language, professional manners. But there was some difference. One of them exuded kindness, pleasant manners, charm, almost beauty. The other was jarring, unpleasant, stupid, obviously ugly. All in their voices. Can the human voice do all that?
It can. There is the delightful anecdote of the blind man who knew the person’s character by their voice and declared that Zen Master Banzei spoke always the truth because that showed in his voice. Or the psychoanalyst quoted by Fritz Perls who not only diagnosed his patient’s ills from their voice but cured them also working just on their voice.
Actress Kathleen Turner dedicates a whole chapter in her autobiography to her voice. She says among other things:
“I take the idea of voice quite literally because I truly believe the sound of my voice is terribly important to my overall presentation and how I will be received by others. It started with my being an actress, but it is much more basic than that, really. A resonant voice is first of all a practical communication tool for anyone at any time.” (Send Yourself Roses, p. 176)
“A voice, like a fingerprint, is unique. Everyone has a unique voice quality, but the effectiveness of one’s voice can be improved upon. And should be. It seems to me that, particularly for women, having a good vocal presence completes you. I mean, what does it matter what you look like if people cringe when you open your mouth?” (177)
“It was a great honour to me when I was asked to narrate a documentary, Answering the Call, about the first sixteen horrendous days right after the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Centre. There was so little I could do but I had to do something. We were together taking a stand against terrorism. We were saying the forces of evil would not win the day; we would rescue who and what we could, we would rebuild, and we would prevail. Using my voice to document the stories of those heroic people, from the fire-fighters and police officers to the emergency medical technicians and the volunteers, was the very least I could do. I was and am humbled by each and every one of them.” (186)
“I don’t know if my voice shaped me or if I shaped my voice.” (180)
She goes on to say something interesting about her grandfather. “My grandfather, that wonderful down-to-earth Daddy Russ, who taught me how to persevere in life as I’ll presently say, died when he was ninety-five. My daughter Rachel and I went to the funeral. The church they belonged to had a circular sanctuary with the altar in the middle. In front of the altar was his coffin, not open, thank you very much. I had Rachel, who was three years old, on my lap, and she asked, ‘Where’s Daddy Russ?’ I said, ‘Well, honey, Daddy Russ is in that coffin. He’s in that box.’ She said, ‘What’s he doing?’ I said, ‘He’s sleeping. And he’s going to stay asleep now.’ She nestled her head on my shoulder and said, ‘Good night, Daddy Russ.’ And she went to sleep in my arms. That was when I started crying. I was fine up till then. It was Daddy Russ that had given me the mantra in my life. When I would tell him before any serious difficulty in life, ‘I can’t stand it, I’ll never do it’, he’d look at me and he’d say, ‘Well, you just have to, don’t you?’ That has led me through life. ‘You just have to, don’t you?’ And I would go and do it. (287)
Her father never approved of her vocation to the stage. While she was still at school she took part in a play for the end-of-the-year function, and this is what her father did. “Dad was always there as a strong positive force in my life, but his disapproval of my work at the stage was equally intense. Like the time he drove my mother to my high school to watch one of my performances. He wouldn’t come in to see the play because that would have violated his principles. But he wouldn’t abandon his daughter, either. Instead, he sat in the car outside the school during the entire program. Inside the theatre, I pictured vividly how his hands must have been clenched on the steering wheel while he waited. But he waited till the end.” (64)
By the way, the two airlines I mentioned at the beginning were Lufthansa and Iberia. But I won’t say which of them was the good girl and which the bad one.
