I came in to work today to find this letter on my desk. It reads:
Dear Sir,
Re. Which? 2011, June, 38
Sorry, but I am not going to allow you to get away with it:
“bacteria” is NOT a singular noun!
I ask your organisation yet again. Why perpetuate ignorance? After all, you have so many “experts”!
Please do not reply , if your intention is to defend the indefensible.
Yours faithfully,
[a reader]
I plan to write many, many letters like this when I retire. Watch out everyone.
This front page really jumped out at me yesterday. And not just because of the odd choice of the first person.
Where do you stand on have+got or has+got? I can’t think of many instances of the ‘got’ being necessary.
When you’re leading up to an adjective (“he’s got old” or “she’s got tired of working”), it’s needed (though of course “he’s aged” or “she’s tired of working” would do fine).
But when you’re talking about possession, it seems not only unnecessary but also clumsy. What’s wrong with “I have a secret lovechild”? (That’s not a moral question, I hasten to add.
I have a cold, I have a house in France, he has an exam tomorrow, she has bad breath… all of these read better without the got.
Does anyone know of a good argument for including it? Or, in this case, is it a play on some famous Arnie quote that I’m missing?
PS. Watch out for the behead beast.
Bonus post
Here’s another picture for you. It’s the menu for the Which? canteen. Now let me first state that I have had many, many lovely meals from the canteen. And let me also state that I do understand that the chefs and waiting staff are employed for their cooking and serving skills, not their writing. Okay? So don’t shout at me.
Take a look. No, no, not at the apostrophe crimes – we’re beyond that. Take a look at the salad bar bit along the bottom.
Honestly, it’s a nightmare. You go there for a bit of couscous salad, and you come away with instructions to write all your darkest thoughts down on a piece of paper and float it out to sea at sunset while breathing deeply and visualising your new life.
I have been having a lot of plural/singular strife over the past couple of days. First, there was the old “one in three people” monkey.
Should it be “one in three people believes Anna Friel is the most gorgeous woman in Britain” or “one in three people believe Anna Friel is the most gorgeous woman in Britain”?*
The production editor and the other subs at Which? all plumped for the latter – because the “one” is representative of many people and although it’s technically incorrect, it sounds more natural. However, when I put the question out on Twitter, the responses were unanimously (and indignantly) for the former – “one in three people believes”. And who says no-one cares about grammar on the web?
When I proposed the Which? stance that in this case “one” represented many, it provoked a Twitflurry. My favourite response came from @dannybirchall:
“I don’t think that deeper metaphysical concepts about ‘one being many and many being one’ apply to grammar. ‘One’ is singular.”
You have been told. Metaphysics don’t matter. Actually, I’m inclined to agree.
That was the first instance. Then, this morning, there was a second. This one combined the single/plural dilemma with the singular “they”. I had issued a proof with the following construction on it:
“Which? research has found that a typical household has a choice of more than 20 thingamyjigs if they decide to pay by direct debit.”
It’s an ugly sentence and I admit that it shouldn’t have slipped through my net. But on one of the returned proofs, it had been changed to:
“Which? research has found that a typical household has a choice of more than 75 energy tariffs if it decides to pay by direct debit.”
Ohh, nice. “It”? That’s just prioritising grammar above sense and downright decency. It needed changing, but not this! Oh, not this.
In the end, I went for:
“Which? research has found that a typical householder who has chosen to pay by direct debit has a choice of more than 75 energy tariffs.”
I’d be interested to hear what others would have done, in either of the above situations. Suggestions on a postcard…
*Reference to Anna Friel is entirely gratuitous
I would like to point out to my esteemed colleagues the following: if it ends in ‘ly’, you don’t need to hyphenate it. Simple.
Or, in sub-editor speak, only hyphenate a compound adjective if it is formed of two adjectives – not an adverb (ending in ‘ly’) followed by an adjective.
Journos at other publications, if they get it wrong, tend to omit the hyphen altogether – compound adjective or not. This is fine by me. I am quite happy to put the hyphens in. You could even say, if you were feeling daring, that I enjoy putting them in.
At Which?, however, there are hyphens all over the place. Meticulously, I un-hyphenate “highly-sensitive touchscreen”, “fairly-decent battery life” and “lightly-textured bread”. Unlike putting the hyphens in, this doesn’t make me smile with a gently smug beneficence. On the contrary, it provokes a lemon-sucking expression.
But what makes me really mad, what takes that lemon-sucking face and cranks up the sourness with a bulldog and a wasp, is when, after I’ve taken out these nonsense hyphens, a proof comes back to me with them all marked in again. Seriously? OMG, as they say. I can only imagine that at some point, some well-meaning person has run a short grammar course and the subject of compound adjectives has come up. And either that person taught it wrong, or they explained it really badly. Either way, it has spread like a disease and now hyphens are everywhere. Soon they’ll be taking our-jobs, our-women and eventually-even-our (yes, Mr Gibson, fallen from grace as you are) freedom.
Now here’s the science. Hyphens are not just decorative. They are not there simply because subs like them (although I’ll admit that I do). They have not been left out because the sub didn’t attend that grammar course you vaguely remember. They are there for one simple reason: to aid clarity. This is the difference between adjective+adjective+noun and adverb+adjective+noun. The former can often easily be misread. The latter can’t. So if adding a hyphen doesn’t add clarity, don’t add it.
For example:
He’s a thick skinned man. This could just about be read to mean a stupid man who has been skinned. So hyphenate it: a thick-skinned man.
He’s an easily offended man. This can’t be misread. The adverb ‘easily’ can only apply to the adjective that follows it. Don’t hyphenate it.
A sweet smelling loaf. What’s a ‘smelling loaf’ when it’s at home? I don’t know, but it sure is sweet! Hyphenate.
An ominously dark sky. Don’t.
Finally, just because it’s too good not to be repeated:
There is not much I like less than being told I am wrong when I know I am right. I’m not particularly partial to being told I am wrong under any circumstances, I’ll admit. But when I know I am right, have discussed it with two other subs and confirmed I am right and also checked in the dictionary, to have someone insist that I am wrong is particularly irritating.
Did I mention that I was right? Oh yes I was. Rightly right.
The offending sentence said this:
The new Bernard Matthews advert features a boy orchestrating a rendition of Joe Cocker’s ‘You Are So Beautiful’ but substituting the word ‘beautiful’ for ‘bootiful’.
“Oh,” said I. “Someone’s got their substitutes the wrong way round again, that keeps happening.” And Vince and Kit had a good humm and haw and agreed with me and then I checked in the OED for good measure.
substitute
a person or thing acting or serving in place of another: soya milk is used as a substitute for dairy milk.
So I accordingly swapped the ‘beautiful’ and the ‘bootiful’.
Imagine my surprise when this came back from the editorial powers with a big red ring about it. Firstly, the powers said it was inverted. When I protested, the powers said that it could be read either way. When I mentioned the dictionary (the words “I do feel quite passionately that I am right” may have been mentioned), the powers responded with my favourite spank-the-subs comment: “Well I’m sure you’re right grammatically, but in real life…”
Hurrumph. Much giggling from the art desk – and, may I say, even my fellow subs.
The conclusion of the discussion was that I would change the offending sentence altogether, much to my (mostly) silent sulking. So it now reads:
The new Bernard Matthews advert features a boy orchestrating a rendition of Joe Cocker’s ‘You Are So Beautiful’ but using the word ‘bootiful’ instead of ‘beautiful’.
Some battles you can’t win. But if the powers are confused, it’s likely others are too. I think this confusion probably stems from ‘for’ and ‘with’, so here’s how it works:
The scene: Didier Drogba is on the field, Nicolas Anelka is on the bench. Drogba injures himself and Anelka is called on.
Anelka is called on as a substitute for Drogba. Or Drogba is substituted with Anelka.
Or, if you prefer a cooking analogy:
You’re following a recipe for fruit scones but you want to make savoury ones instead.
You can substitute cheese for the raisins. Or the raisins can be substituted with cheese.
I’m glad we got this sorted.
Well I brought this upon myself and I won’t pretend otherwise.
I asked for questions – and boy, did I get them.
Young Mr Ball at the Bureau of Investigative Hackery twittered gleefully: ‘Tackle with/from/of. I know it’s “bored with” but “died of”? “died from”? “made of”? HELP.’
Well Mr Ball, the main thing to say is that it’s a big sticky mess – but you knew that already. So here goes. Perhaps not my wittiest ever post, but I hope it is at least useful to some.
I’m going for the ‘made of/with/from’ chestnut first, as it’s one that has been gently bothering me for a while. I couldn’t find a nice clean guide on this anywhere, so I have racked my brains (yes, I believe it is racked, not wracked) and come up with a working model. Well, it works for me, anyway… but I am certainly open to being further enlightened.
Use made of if the material retains its original properties: “the chair is made of wood.”
Use made from if the material’s original properties have changed: “paper is made from wood.”
Use made with to describe an addition to usual components – “Battenburg cake is made with ground almonds.” (I can’t think of any non-cooking example of when you would use this.)
‘Die’ was an easy one. Nice simple explanation in the OED:
die
the normal constructions are to die of (a malady, hunger, old age, etc) or to die from ( a wound, inattention, etc).
Anyone bored yet? And if so, are you bored with me, by me, or of me, you ungrateful beasts? If it’s the third, you have a regrettable tendency, so read on! According to Fowler’s:
bore
The normal constructions are with with or with by: they were bored with being left alone in the country; he became bored with Patrick; they were bored by the party political broadcasts. A regrettable tendency has emerged in recent years to construe the verb with of.
And then there’s the old favourite, compare. It is almost always written as compared to, but almost always should be compared with. The former is only used to describe similarity, whereas the latter is used for contrasts and, well, comparisons.
Even The Times and the Guardian style guides agree:
The Times:
compare with/to compare with (the more common use) when differences or contrasts are the point – “compare the saints with the devils” or “compared with last year’s figures” etc; compare to for likenesses – “compare this image to a damsel fair”
Guardian:
compare to/with
The former means liken to, the latter means make a comparison: so unless you are specifically likening someone or something to someone or something else (eg Nothing Compares 2 U), use compare with. A former lord chancellor compared himself to Cardinal Wolsey because he believed he was like Wolsey; I might compare him with Wolsey to assess their relative merits
Ah, but that’s not the end of the story. There are more. Different from/to (not than, please), scared of/by… But surely, that’s enough for one day.
Oh my goodness, I have just discovered it is National Grammar Day this Thursday. IN AMERICA! Dammit, why do the yanks get all the *fun*?
They sell these t-shirts too, which are plainly very, very cool.
I love a good dangling participle. The name alone makes me smirk. Check it out:
“Consumers are very clear on what Fairtrade means and they understand that, by buying Fairtrade products, the producers in developing countries see real benefits,” says [Fairtrade person].
Canya tell what it is yet?
In this sentence, to the grammatically anal, it is the producers who are buying the Fairtrade products – and consumers are very clear on this.
Let me dig out some more… The TalkTalk dictionary (who knew there was such a thing?) offers up the following:
Walking back home yesterday, a tree nearly fell on my head.
If properly secured, you shouldn’t be able to remove the cover.
Here, the tree is walking home rather than the person, and the person is properly secured and therefore unable to remove the cover.
Fowler’s Modern English Usage offers, from a speech made by Lord Belstead on Radio 4 in 1988 following the resignation of Lord Whitelaw as Leader of the House of Lords (I do sometimes question the word ‘Modern’ in the book’s title!):
Being unique, I am not going in any way to imitate him.
He meant Lord Whitelaw was unique, obviously. But the position of the participle (‘being’) at the start of the sentence, automatically links to the subject in the following clause (‘I’).
And some funny ones, from TwoBells.com:
Leaping off the cliff, I saw the mountain goat land safely 20 feet below me.
Running with courage in their veins and determination in their hearts, the beaches around Troy were soon overrun by Achilles and his Myrmidons.
Meheheh.
My own attempt at being funny:
Applying a second coat of lipstick, he thought again how beautiful she was.
To avoid ‘em is simple: just make sure the first word of the sentence applies (that’s the participle) to the first word after the comma (that’s the subject).
Sneakily posting my blog, I kept one ear open for an editorial approach from the rear.
Listening to Mike singing the praises of his Pantone mug, I had a sudden realisation that he was as much of a nerd as me. Just in the design world.
Enough!
I leave you with this, a sentence to which I was so tempted to add the word ‘international’, just for good measure.
Only 2% of global world supply of cocoa is currently certified.
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