The problem is that the sentence can be read in two ways. It could mean: Because she was a Methodist, he did not marry her. Or: He married her, but not because she was a Methodist. We shouldn't have to be mind readers to understand an explanation.
The not is just as slippery if it's part of a contraction. Try to find the two possible explanations here: A.J. didn't change the tires because he was doing practice laps the next day.
Did he or didn't he change the tires? Make it: Because he was doing practice laps the next day, A.J. didn't change the tires. Or: A.J. changed the tires, but not because he was doing practice laps the next day.
Why worry about a few nots? Because making sense is the most important part of writing. That makes sense, doesn't it?
18. Grammar Moses
THOU SHALT NOT EMBARRASS THYSELF
You think nobody cares about grammar? The next time you post a message to an Internet newsgroup, try mixing up it's and its, lie and lay, or there and their, and see what happens. The grammar police will be on your case, and you' ll get so many flames that your modem will smoke.
Believe me, people care. Whether you're writing e-mail or snail mail, a Web page or a page of a memoir, grammar counts. Readers may dismiss writing that's otherwise okay, even terrific, if the grammar is screwed up. This is no small matter, particularly when you're trying to make a good impression—applying for a job, say, or trying to sell a book proposal, or writing an essay for admission to college.
It's a good bet, though, that your grammar isn't perfect. If you didn't learn it in school (like most Americans under forty) or if you've forgotten what you were taught, buy a grammar book and keep it right beside your dictionary. Don't be intimidated. Grammar books aren't as forbidding and textbooky as they used to be, and not all of them bristle with technical terms. You don't need to know the heavy terminology, anyway. You can be a good driver even if you can't name all the parts of a car.
This chapter is no substitute for a grammar book. But until you get one, here's a look at some of the blunders that writers make most often.
An I for an I
Hugh Downs, who often wraps up 20/20 broadcasts by saying, "Good night from Barbara and me," has gotten indignant letters from viewers who think, mistakenly, that he should be saying "from Barbara and I." I hear that the same thing used to happen to Harry Reasoner when he did the evening news with Barbara Walters.
Perhaps the single most common mistake in grammar these days is using I instead of me. "This is just between you and I,"a friend writes conspiratorially. Or a colleague says in a memo, "The boss humiliated Ellen and I." Or Aunt Agatha writes, "Happy Birthday from Uncle Miltie and I."
It's me, it's me, it's me, O Lord!
So what's I got that me doesn't? Many people seem to feel that I is somehow classier than me, probably because of all the nagging they got as kids for saying, "Me want Twinkies," or "Me hate broccoli." They're left with the impression that there's something second-rate about me. Impressions like that are hard to overcome, but a trick might help.
When I or me appears by itself, we never mess up. No one says, "The boss humiliated I." So when I or me is part of a pair, just eliminate the other guy. In Aunt Agatha's note, for example, get rid of Uncle Miltie: Happy Birthday from me; then put him back in the picture: Happy Birthday from Uncle Miltie and me. Give it a try.
The same trick works with he and him, she and her, they and them, and other pronouns (words that stand in for nouns, like Ike, Lassie, or the Nelsons). Take the sentence Ricky saw she and David at the mall. Is it she or her? Lose David and the answer is obvious: Ricky saw her [and David] at the mall.
Remember, too, that a pronoun at the front of a sentence is more likely to be a subject (I, he, she, they, etc.), while one at the back is more likely to be an object (me, him, her, them). When you have to guess, play the odds.
The Agreeable Writer
"I don't want to talk grammar, I want to talk like a lady," said Eliza Doolittle, the flower peddler in George Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion. Sorry, but we can't talk or write well without using words correctly. So let's talk grammar some more.
A big part of grammar is matching up the verb (the action word) with the subject (who or what is doing the action). If a subject is singular, the verb is too. If the actor is plural, so is the action word. Nobody should have trouble with a simple sentence, such as Linda tapes every phone call. The subject, Linda, is singular and so is the verb, tapes. But what if the sentence isn't so simple? Let's toss in something extra between the subject and the verb: Linda, along with her techie friends, [tape or tapes] every phone call. Which is it? No, the verb doesn't change. Since Linda is still the subject, the verb is still singular: tapes.
When you come across a sentence with a lot of information separating the subject and the verb, don't be misled. Phrases such as along with, as well as, together with, and in addition to don't change a singular subject. Mentally eliminate the extra stuff and you won't go wrong.
The Terrible Twos
Familiarity breeds contemptible grammar. Some words are misused so often that the errors start to look right. How many times have you read something like, Sleeping Beauty laid down for a nap, or Bill should train Buddy not to lay in the driveway? Close, but no cigar. Sleeping Beauty lay down, and Buddy should be taught where to lie.
Many English words are easy to confuse because they look and sound so much alike. Lie and lay are good examples, along with their and there, its and it's, and your and you're. Here are some quick reminders to make sure you use them correctly.
• Lie and lay. To lie is to recline: Camille often lies on the divan. Last night she lay on the divan. For days she has lain on the divan. To lay is to place: Sluggo lays his heart at Nancy's feet. On Sunday he laid his heart at her feet. Every night he has laid his heart at her feet. A memory aid: Notice how you can hear the word lie in recline, and lay in place.
• Their and there. Remember them this way. Their is a possessive (a word that shows ownership) and has the word heir in it: Their heir inherited their hair. As for there, it refers to a place; it's like here and has here in it: He blew his inheritance here and there.
• Its and it's. This one is easy. Its is possessive, and it's is short for it is or it has. (In contractions, such as it's, apostrophes stand for missing letters.) So if you can substitute it is or it has, use it's. When the parakeet is cranky, its squawk means it's hungry.
• Your and you're. Same principle. If you can substitute you are, go for you're. Your attitude proves you're a ninny.
You'll save yourself plenty of grief if you remember that pronouns don't have apostrophes when they're possessive (hers, his, its, ours, their, theirs, your, yours). They have apostrophes only in contractions; the apostrophes stand for missing letters: I'm (for I am), we've (we have), she'd (she would), they're (they are), and so on. Engrave it on your brain.
Taking Leave of Your Tenses
Tenses are the time zones of writing, and you can't be in two zones at the same time. Even the Concorde can't be in Pacific and Mountain times at once. When writers are careless with tenses, readers get lost along the way.
Tenses let readers know when something happened, is happening, or will happen. We can say: Today Ralph drives a bus. Yesterday Ralph drove a bus. The day before, Ralph had driven a bus. Tomorrow Ralph will drive a bus. By next fall Ralph will have driven a bus for twenty years. Simple enough. We're just telling time with verbs.
But when there's more going on in a sentence—it has two verbs, maybe three—the tenses have to make sense together.
A supervisor in a hurry might write this recommendation: When duty calls, Ralph answered. That sentence has a foot in one time zone and a foot in another. Duty's call and Ralph's answer should happen at roughly the same time. But in the example, duty calls in the present while Ralph answered in the past.
When things happen at the same time, the tenses of the verbs have to be the same: When duty calls, Ralph answers. Or: When duty called, Ra
lph answered.
The goings-on in a sentence don't always go on at the same time, however: Ralph says he drove yesterday and will drive next week. When we write about things that happen at different times, the tenses have to work together.
Usually common sense kicks in. We combine verbs correctly without giving them much thought. On occasion, though, the juggling is tricky, especially when we throw in will or would. Here's how to choose between them.
• When the other verb is in the present, use will: Ralph says he will wear his uniform.
• When the other verb is in the past, use would: Ralph said he would wear his uniform.
The idea is the same with compound tenses, like has said (this is called the present perfect) or had said (the past perfect).
• When the other verb begins with has or have, use will: Ralph has said he will need a bigger size.
• When the other verb begins with had, use would: Ralph had said he would need a bigger size.
Another sign of poor tense is using one have too many: He would have liked to have driven a double-decker. In this case, one have is enough, and it can go with either verb, depending on the emphasis: He would have liked to drive a double-decker, or He would like to have driven a double-decker.
Still tense about tenses? We've only scratched the surface here, so if you need to know more, check your grammar book.
Rules, Schmules
If grammar is supposed to help us make sense, why do some of the rules seem so nonsensical? Well, maybe those aren't real rules, after all.
You've no doubt heard them all your life: Don't split an infinitive. Don't start a sentence with and or but. Don't end one with a preposition (of, to, with, and so on). Don't use contractions (including don't). None of them are true—including the one that says none is always singular.
These misconceptions, which serve only to make writing clunky and convoluted, are not real rules and never have been. Since the 1300's, writers of English have gotten along fine without them. So where did they come from?
In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, classics scholars set out to civilize the English of Chaucer, Shakespeare, and Milton. They took a language that's essentially Germanic and tried to clothe it in Latin grammar. No wonder the shoes pinched.
For generations, our most eminent grammarians have tried to lay these myths and Latinisms to rest, but they keep rising again like Jason from his watery grave. And like Jason, they're not real, so feel free to ignore them. Our best writers do. George Bernard Shaw once complained to the Times of London about an editor who hadn't gotten the word:
"There is a pedant on your staff who spends far too much of his time searching for split infinitives. Every good literary craftsman uses a split infinitive if he thinks the sense demands it. I call for this man's instant dismissal; it matters not whether he decides to quickly go or to go quickly or quickly to go. Go he must, and at once."
Comma Sense
I've come across this story many times on the Internet. I can't guarantee that it's true but I still like it. Male and female college students were given these words—woman without her man is nothing—and asked to punctuate them as a sentence.
The men wrote: Woman, without her man, is nothing.
The women wrote: Woman: without her, man is nothing.
Don't overlook the power of punctuation. It's not just window dressing; it can change the meaning of a sentence 180 degrees. This is what I mean: Jack said Harry wrecked the car. Or perhaps: Jack, said Harry, wrecked the car. And look what a difference a hyphen can make: The stolen sofa was recovered. Or: The stolen sofa was re-covered.
Sometimes reading a sentence aloud and listening for pauses can help you punctuate it. A slight pause might be a comma; a longer one, a semicolon; an even longer one, a period. (That sentence is an example.) But remember, the point of punctuation is to make writing clearer and easier to read. A barrelful of exclamation marks can't equal one juicy adjective or verb.
I certainly can't tell you in a few paragraphs everything you need to know about punctuation. But I can hit the high spots, the problems that show up most often. If you don't see it here, look it up.
• A comma by itself usually isn't enough to hold together two expressions that could be separate sentences: Jack broke his crown, Jill wasn't seriously injured. (This is sometimes called a run-on sentence.) If you want to join those expressions with a comma, add a linking word, like and or but: Jack broke his crown, but Jill wasn't seriously injured. There's more on joining parts of a sentence in chapter 12.
• The semicolon may be the most unappreciated and underused punctuation mark. If you find semicolons intimidating, relax. They're handy for joining expressions that could stand alone, like the ones above: Jack broke his crown; Jill wasn't seriously injured. Semicolons can also be used to tidy up a series of items with commas inside them. Imagine how hard it would be to read this sentence if only commas were used: Jack broke his crown, which was fractured in two places; scraped his knee, nearly to the bone; and ruined his lederhosen. Lincoln found the semicolon a "useful little chap"; you will, too.
• Dashes and parentheses shouldn't be abused. They do roughly the same thing—they let the writer say something (like this) in an aside—though dashes are somewhat more in-your-face. If your writing breaks out in dashes, try using parentheses for variety (and vice versa). But if commas would work as well, as they often do, use them instead.
• The exclamation point is a squeal, the "Eek!" of punctuation. It's the equivalent of a flashing neon sign on a sentence. If you're writing something astonishing, remarkable, astounding, or horrific, you'll land a bigger punch by letting your words do the job. A startling statement is all the more startling if it's delivered without an elbow in the ribs. So use exclamation points sparingly. A little punctuation can go a long way.
Incidentally, go easy on the italics. If you have to use slanty print like this for emphasis, perhaps your words aren't dramatic enough on their own. It's all right to use italics once in a while, but don't go bananas.
Spellbinding
The most dynamite résumé in the world won't get you in the door if you've misspelled "curriculum vitae." Crummy spelling is more noticeable than crummy anything else. It irritates readers and embarrasses writers. Yet spelling goofs are the easiest to fix. Unless you're dead certain about a word—is it pretentions or pretensions? wierd or weird? gauge or guage?—look it up. Reaching for your Funk & Wagnalls should be a reflex action. Wear it out; thumbit to bits. The best writers I know own the grimiest, most tattered dictionaries.
Dictionaries aren't foolproof, though. Read the fine print when you check the spelling of a word. Lexicographers include troublemakers like irregardless, alright, ahold, and anywheres. That's because a dictionary is supposed to include words that are widely used, even if they're clearly wrong. But the editors also caution us when these words are nonkosher versions of correct ones (regardless, all right, a hold, anywhere). Don't just look up a spelling and stop there; read further, in case it's not the accepted one. Watch for warnings such as "substandard," "nonstandard," "obsolete," "variant spelling," "vulgar," "obscene," and so on.
What about computer spell-checkers? I'm glad you asked. The speller in your machine has a very small IQ and you shouldn't rely on it entirely. First, it may tell you to misspell a word. (Mine doesn't recognize restaurateur and tells me to spell it restauranteur.) Second, your speller won't stop you from using the wrong word if it's spelled right. (Mine passed this sentence with flying colors: Eye trussed their are know miss steaks hear, four my come pewter is all weighs write.) Third, it's all too easy to hit the wrong key and wreak havoc. On my speller, the Skip Once key is just below Replace. The other day I was ripping through a piece with the spell-checker, repeatedly hitting Skip Once (I thought). But my mouse had drifted up a zillionth of an inch, and I was actually hitting Replace. The discovery prompted me to shout several words that my dictionary describes as "vulgar" or "obscene."
As for
grammar-checkers, they've come a long way, but they haven't arrived yet, baby. Like spell-checkers, they overlook many mistakes and encourage you to make many more. There are grammar-checkers that accept "between you and I," "most unique," and "Politics are my favorite subject." When I ran a sentence from the Declaration of Independence through my grammar-checker, it found so many "errors" that I can't list them. Among other things, it suggested changing "all men are created equal" to "God created all men equally." Jefferson would not have approved.
19. Down for the Count
WHEN THE NUMBERS DON'T ADD UP
I once edited a book review in which this sentence appeared (details have been changed to protect the guilty): "Oglethorpe Carrothers was one-third journalist, one-third statesman, one-third war hero, one-third humanitarian, and one-third playboy." Granted, math isn't my strong suit, but I know enough to raise an eyebrow when I meet five-thirds of a Carrothers.
Like that reviewer, many people are more concerned about the sound of their words than the sense of their numbers. The words read well, but the numbers don't add up. Beware of any figures you haven't checked and double-checked. Count on your fingers if you must, but be sure the math makes sense.
Playing the Percentages
What do you make of this sentence? The stock price jumped 200 percent in less than an hour, rising to $50 from $25. Something's wrong here (even if you got in on the stock early). Do you see why?
When you start with $25 and you increase that by $25, you've doubled the original figure, to $50. But that's a jump of only 100 percent, the original number increased by itself once. When $25 goes up 200 percent, it increases by itself not once but twice—that gives us the original $25, plus $25 and another $25, for a total of $75.
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