Poor English

by Conroy

I was just reading an old essay from the late David Foster Wallace about tennis and Roger Federer (what else). In part of the essay he was recounting some commentary regarding racket technology and its affect on the modern game, which was written on plaques hung on the hallowed halls of Wimbledon's Millennium Building. There was one sentence in particular that drew his attention:

"Nowadays it is the powerful hitters who dominate with heavy topspin."

He goes on to masterfully analyze and correct the underlying premise, but what made me laugh was this footnote:

"(...assuming, that is, that the sign's 'with heavy topspin' is modifying 'dominate' rather than 'powerful hitters,' which actually it might or might not--British grammar is a bit dodgy.)

Wallace was an acclaimed novelist, critic, essayist, and expert grammarian (not to mention a tennis fan). I like his cheekiness to challenge "British" grammar, sure to rankle our cousins across the pond. Of course my smile was quickly tempered when I thought about what Foster's critical eye would have made of this blog, and my myriad grammatical errors, word missteps, and sometimes careless proofreading.

The truth is that writing is hard. I think I write alright, but English (American or British or any other variation) is so complex, with so many grammar rules -- many of them debated -- and so many words that it can be hard, and might be impossible, to write without mistakes. Consider a few of these challenges:

Writing the Right Word

The Man and I have both written about using the exact right word, the mot juste, to convey the meaning and context of a subject (see here and here). Well our language's seemingly endless vocabulary makes that both possible and daunting, but there is another challenge, more mundane and maybe more important. That's avoiding (accidentally) using the wrong word, a pitfall that even good writers can stumble over. English is full of homonyms and words with similar structures and related, but not synonymous, meanings. This can lead to trouble. A (very) small sampling:

[and I'm sure a close reading of this blog will reveal the occasional incorrect usage (hopefully just occasional) along these lines]

• accept versus except - I'll gladly accept any explanation you offer, except those that are obvious lies.
• accurate versus precise - It's accurate to write that Pi is about 3.14, but listing just two decimals isn't very precise.
• affect versus effect - The extreme cold weather had affected the crops , the net effect was a shortage of grain.
• alternately versus alternatively - Day alternates with night. I had many transportation alternatives when I was in new York.
  
• altogether versus all together - Altogether, I'm glad the riot is over. The crowd was all together when things turned violent.

Word Play in Bullet Park

After reading Conroy's post about the mot juste, I decided to run a search on my Kindle for narthex, one of the words that Conroy identifies as being part of the specialized vocabulary used to describe castles and churches. My hope was to see it used in the context of a story, and I was pleasantly surprised to find it in Bullet Park, a novel by John Cheever. The passage in which it appears, quoted below, showcases Cheever's mastery. He often chooses not merely le mot juste, but le mot musical; when he writes of the "sound of the priest's voice in the vestarium," we hear the alliteration and marvel at Cheever's skill in using just the right word in just the right place. And by drawing from the "system of terms" appropriate to a church—pew, font, narthex, vestarium—Cheever places us inside of one:

This division of Nailles’s attention during worship had begun when, as a young boy, he had spent most of his time in church examining the forms captured in the grained-oak pews. In certain lights and frames of mind they seemed quite coherent. There was a charge of Mongol horsemen in the third pew on the right, next to the font. In the pew ahead of that there appeared to be a broad  lake—some body of water—with a lighthouse on a peninsula. In the pew across the aisle there was a clash of arms and in the pew ahead of that there seemed to be a herd of cattle. This lack of concentration did not distress Nailles. He did not expect to part with his flesh or his memory in the narthex. His concerns in church remained at least partially matter-of-fact, and on this winter morning he noticed that Mrs. Trencham was carrying on her particular brand of competitive churchmanship. Mrs. Trencham was a recent convert—she had been a Unitarian—and she was more than proud of her grasp of the responses and courtesies in the service; she was bellicose. At the first sound of the priest’s voice in the vestarium she was on her feet and she fired out her amens and her mercies in a stern and resonant voice, timed well ahead of the rest of the congregation as if she were involved in a sort of ecclesiastical footrace. Her genuflections were profound and graceful, her credo and confession were letter-perfect, her Lamb of God was soulful, and if she was given any competition, as she sometimes was, she would throw in a few signs of the cross as a proof of the superiority of her devotions. Mrs. Trencham was a winner.

At the beginning of the passage, we learn that when Nailles was young, he would pass the time in church transforming random, mundane patterns seen in the grain of wooden pews into iconic boyish imagery. In the latter part of the passage, we watch him transform Mrs. Trencham into a burlesque of sanctimony. And here we see more specialized vocabulary put into play; we learn of Mrs. Trencham's disingenuous amens and mercies, her genuflections and credos, her confessions and Lambs of God. These terms—together with a couple of striking phrases ("competitive churchmanship" and "ecclesiastical footrace")—heighten the bathos of the scene. This is diction at its best.

There's a Word for That...

by Conroy

It should hardly surprise that a blog writer would love language and words, but you know what subset of this topic really interests me? Terminology, or the system of terms that belong to a particular subject. Let me give you an example.

Leeds Castle - not so simple as it looks

Recently I was flipping through the channels on my TV and came across a show about castles. I don't know much about castles, I've visited a few during vacations in Ireland and England, I've seen a bunch in movies, and they're an iconic part of medieval history, but still I don't know all that much. Nor, to be completely frank, am I all that interested. I always found the castles I visited to be cold and dark. Not very pleasant places to spend time, let alone live. Nevertheless, the show drew me in. Why? Because it featured a description of all the parts and features in classic castle design supported by real world examples. I love this sort of thing. Sure, most of us know about the moat built around some castles, but did you know that the mound that a castle was frequently built on is called a motte? Or that the open courtyard area is known as a bailey? You might know about dungeons, but did you know the underground dungeon reached by trap door is known as oubliette (or less elegantly a starvation hole)? How about some other castles features like the squint, narthex, and finial?

I bring this up because I think there's a certain joy to being able to use the exact right word to describe an object, idea, or concept. Sure I could write that castles often included an enclosed passage between the main entrance and the nave of a church, but isn't it more interesting and informative to note that this passage is called a narthex?

I'm sure most people use specialized terminology everyday in their work and other activities. Think about some of the terminology associated with your occupation. Using the right word is often essential to effective communication. Using the wrong word can lead to confusion and mis-communication. In addition, using specialized terminology demonstrates a familiarity and understanding of a subject that often needs to be expressed for reasons that go beyond simple necessity. You may not understand all of the jargon your doctor is saying to you ("myocardial infarction" instead of "heart attack"), but you get a certain confidence that at least he knows his trade. [At the same time, specialized terminology and jargon can be intimidating to a layperson. In my experience you should avoid jargon if possible and be clear in explaining terminology to someone unfamiliar with the subject and/or details.]

I like English because as a language it is so word friendly, including a vocabulary of more than a million by some counts. And English speakers have no reticence in borrowing terms from other languages. For instance, the exact right word is the mot juste, a term English took from French. Well I'll strive to use the mot juste in my writing. If I ever have to write about castles, I'll be off to a good start.

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To give another example of the terminology associated with even seemingly simple systems, consider just a sampling of the terms associated with basketball (timely because the NCAA Tournament began today):

shot clock, air ball, three-pointer, alley-oop, assist, backboard, backcourt, ball fake, screen, bank shot, baseline, pivot foot, bench, shot, backdoor cut, rebound, brick, center, forward, guard, dribble, dunk, fast break, field goal, foul, free throw, halftime, jump shot, layup, over-and-back, front court, pass, run, swingman, technical foul, block, three-point play, travel, turnover, offense, defense, foul line, mid-court, sixth man, referee, sideline, paint, key, flagrant foul

As a casual fan you can overlook the myriad terms associated with the sport, but each term has an exact meaning in this context.

Perhaps you can take a few minutes to think of the wide terminology used in other everyday activities and items (cooking, your car, exercise, etc.). What's the difference between a car's fender and quarter-panel? In food preparation, how does a scraper differ from a spatula?
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Cliches - Part 2

by Conroy

Don't Reinvent the Wheel

I love cliches. I love speaking them as commentary on daily life, using them to communicate common but powerful truths, relying on them to simplify the complex thoughts I yearn to articulate. Does this mean that my writing, and by extension my thinking, is hackneyed and limited? By failing to explore new metaphors or unconventional word syntax does my writing lack the dynamism and inventiveness of a truly accomplished writer? I say emphatically - NO!

No, cliches are not unoriginal and stale drivel to be discarded and derided, but a valuable tool in any writer's (or speaker's) repertoire. Is there a better way to reduce complicated ideas into digestible and easily understood components? Is there a better way to communicate quickly and clearly? Doesn't a cliche used well, or dare I write - originally, add to the enjoyment of reading?

What better way to to explain the unique burdens of a life then, 'everyone has their cross to bear'? Are there another six words that can encapsulate this part of the human condition? How about a better five words to summarize the responsibilities and bonds of family then, 'blood is thicker than water'? Or a central and perhaps unsettling reality of this universe, 'better to be lucky than good'?

Much of the contempt for cliches may come from confusion with cliched writing. Writing that is derivative, regurgitates tired ideas, over-simplifies the complex, or states the obvious. Cliched writing is lazy, it fails to inform, it insults the reader's intelligence. It's fiction instead of literature.

Cliched writing is waste. Cliches are value. Let's not get the two confused.

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Here are some of my favorite cliches (not counting the ones cited above):

• 'Nothing lasts forever' and 'Everyone has to lose sometime'. I especially like to keep these in mind when it comes to sports.
• 'The grass is always greener on the other side' and 'A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush'. Readers of my first post will already know of my belief that the lure of what we may have can overpower the reality of what we do have.
• 'Hope springs eternal'. Also in my first post, there are few things more human than our innate resiliency.
• 'The perfect is the enemy of the good'. Perfection is impossible, and in seeking it we can lose all of the good results that are possible.
• 'All's well that ends well'. Always liked the sound and sentiment of this expression. When times get stressful things can be done and said that cause resentment, but if things work out in the end, most slights can be forgiven.
• 'Once in a blue moon'. For some reason I think the occurrence of a blue moon is really fascinating. I'm in the annoying habit of explaining what a blue moon is whenever this expression is uttered (even by me) or when I have Blue Moon beer.
• 'Road to ruin is paved with good intentions'. So often intentions are immaterial to results - sometimes disastrous results.
• 'Black as pitch', 'Down in the mouth', 'Missed the boat', 'Once bitten, twice shy', 'Shuffle off this mortal coil', and 'Whistle past the graveyard'. Just like the way these sound, read, and the ideas they express.

What cliches do you love to use?

Cliches - Part 1

[written by The Man and posted on his behalf by Conroy]

I Come to Praise Clichés, Not to Bury Them

Although style mavens deprecate clichés, it's important to know them—whether or not they make for fine writing, and whether or not you actually use them.  That's because clichés save time and often enhance communication: they provide ready-made formulations of common ideas, and are likely to be understood immediately by just about any listener.  In fact, most clichés were once successful, vivid metaphors, and so provide a model of what a superlative metaphor might look like.  Moreover, many clichés are rich with meaning, interesting history, and even uncommonly known facts about the world.  They are a treasure trove of rhetorical technique.  And if you don't want to use them as they are, you can always give them a surprising twist.  

So why do style experts deplore clichés with such utter contempt?  Because they are boring?  Perhaps.  But I would suggest that the primary motivation is snobbery—the snobbery of a literary elite.  After all, anybody can scribble a simple-minded cliché.  Avoiding clichés, on the other hand, means having to generate different ways of expressing ideas, which is difficult to do.  This gives those who can, something to crow about.  But perhaps sometimes it's not worth taking the extra time and effort that "being original" requires.  Sometimes it's better just to use the nearest cliché that does the job.  Style isn't everything; substance matters too.  And isn't it always a good idea to be cost-effective, even if that means falling back on a few tried-and-true clichés, every now and again, rather than trying to reinvent the wheel all the time?