THE WORDS & COMPANY BLOG

On these pages the editors will from time to time ruminate about and marvel at the elaborate syntax of the English language and the literary sensibilities of those who use and misuse it. We hope readers will find our observations enlightening -- even challenging. We will welcome your response.

Etymologists tell us that language is a living thing. Like plants in a garden, words take on fresh roots, new phrases bloom, rules of grammar develop crooked branches. Thus does our native tongue keep itself vigorous. But letting English wander off on its own is getting increasingly risky. Today we must tolerate “give to you and I,” “whomever it is,” “literally” (for “figuratively”), “to each their own,” “24/7,” “the bottom line,” and hundreds of other annoyances and bloopers. You call that living? These things are DOA! Sure, language evolves sort of Darwinistically, but left to the general population, natural selection is inevitably more misguided than not.

From a substantial batch of examples per the above, let’s take the ubiquitous “you know,” a meaningless and annoying speech appendage that’s become irretrievably wedged into American discourse. How does such an utterly useless quirk get launched? What bumbling talker, for instance, came up with the first “you know” as an element of speech? What listener heard the initial utterance, admired it, and decided to work it into his own addled diction. Ditto the next two people, and the next four, etc., until the whole nation, it seems, has been enticed into it. No other elocutionary tic comes close. Thank the Lord.

It’s been demonstrated that a just-coined joke can travel from California to Carolina literally (yes, literally) overnight. But “you know” isn’t funny -- it’s, well, irritating. Yet, pulled (figuratively) from thin air, the mannerism adorns the discourse of rich and poor, young and old, male and female, commoner and president, alike. Most indulgers don’t even hear it as they’re saying it. The poster child is Caroline Kennedy Schlossberg, an erudite sort. When she was in consideration for the Senate last year, a monitor of her television interviews reported that a typical response of the presumptive occupant of one of the world’s most esteemed governmental positions unleashed some 42 “you knows” in five minutes. That’s a rate of one about every seven seconds, and may constitute a world record. Once the media started throwing darts at her unfortunate habit, the poor woman gave up and went home.

As far as proper English goes, eternal vigilance – at least on the part of authors and editors -- is the price of conformity. The problem is that there seems to be a contrariness built into the articulation patterns of the native writer and talker that not only allows, but apparently dictates, a profanation of the rules. For example, the populace has recently ruled that “between you and I” is more genteel than “between you and me”. Without the watchfulness of us purists, any twist of misbegotten syntax can, without reason, insinuate itself into the public lexicon – and usually does.

Take “arguably” — please! For generations that unpretentious adverb enjoyed a precise, logical meaning: “you have my permission to contend this point, although I personally believe it” Today, however, it mostly indicates the opposite: “my assertion cannot be disputed, so don’t even try.” This flip-flop — language’s version of the earth’s inexplicable reversal of its magnetic poles — snuck up on us sometime in the late 20th century, and, as with so many popular modifications, the ever-shrinking defensive team was powerless to prevent it.

Many readers would wonder which side is meant to be joined in this pronouncement from a Wall Street Journal editorial in November, 2008: “Arguably the finest hour of Mr. McCain's career was his support for the Iraq surge at the height of the war's unpopularity.” Based on the returns of a recent national election, some 53% percent of the population might, indeed, except the apparent invitation to argue.

Sometimes even in context, you can’t tell which meaning of “arguably” the user of the word intends. Some dictionaries still hold only to the time-honored definition, yielding nothing to modern vernacular. Others, however, are of split mind. Few are singularly on the side of allowing an adverb born with a positive connotation to take over a negative one. This lapse in authority only clouds the air. For example, in The Humble Comma, an essay on syntax by Jim Smiley, the author notes, “Logically, the British style is stronger, but, in instances where the list items, themselves, are complex and contain commas, the North American usage is, arguably, easier to read.” Well, which is it — “without a doubt” or “perhaps”? We may never know (or care).

Extra confusion sets in when a writer insists that there’s such a thing as degrees of arguability. “Male separatism on the other hand (one might cite gentleman's clubs, labour unions, sports teams, the military and, more arguably, decision-making positions in general) is seen as quite a normal, even expedient phenomenon.” (From Wikipedia.)

In the following extract, a truly confused author solved the dilemma by adding unarguable clarification: “Problems with usage are arguably the biggest problem with sunscreen. Put simply, if sunscreen is not used properly, it doesn’t work very well.” (From aboutsunsceen.com.)

Any arguments? Send comments to info@wordsandcompany.com