January 20, 2025

Rightly right, wrongly wrong

TOPICS: ADVERBS, GRAMMAR, RIGHT VS RIGHTLY, WRONG VS. WRONGLY

Here are two weird words: wrong and right. And when I say they’re weird, I mean their adverb forms.

Do it right. Don’t do it wrong.

In both those sentences, right and wrong are functioning adverbially. They’re modifying the verb do. But neither ends with ly.

That’s not weird in and of itself. There are lots of “flat adverbs” in English. For example, if you look up quick and slow in the dictionary, you’ll see they can be used as adverbs in place of quickly and slowly.

Think quick.

Drive slow.

But right and wrong are different because they’re actually more standard as adverbs than their ly counterparts: rightly and wrongly.

Do it rightly and Don't do it wrongly both sound weird compared to Do it right and Don't do it wrong.

Of course, glaringly obvious reality doesn't stop everyone. Some are too eager to leap to assumptions you're wrong, like the guy who e-scolded me years ago when I wrote the sentence: Be careful not to use it wrong.

Here was his reply:

Dear June,

It seems that you do not agree that only adverbs can modify verbs. ... One cannot use anything "wrong," only "wrongly." "Incorrectly" would be a more appropriate adverb to use. ... In your incorrect use of "wrong" there is no doubt that you are wrong. I therefor challenge you to admit your mistake in a follow-up article for all to read. I am not holding my breath."

More amazing: He was one of two people who wrote to spank me for that "error."

I did, in fact, print their remarks in a subsequent column (without too much snickering at the misspelled "therefor"), with the note:

Please open your dictionaries to the word "wrong." Please see that, following the first cluster of definitions under "adj.," adjective, comes the abbreviation "adv." Adverb. "Wrong" is an adverb. And you are both wrong.

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January 13, 2025

Reader mail: Can 'won' mean 'beat'?

TOPICS: GRAMMAR, WON VS. BEAT

A while back, a reader of my column wrote to ask about "won" vs. "beat." He wanted to know whether “John won his opponent" can be used to mean "John beat his opponent."

He added:

Also, isn't "won" also referencing ownership? Jon won the trophy.  I hope you have the time to respond as I have a bet with my wife on the correct use.

After a few minutes of staring at my computer screen like a dog stares at a TV test pattern, here's what I replied:

Hi, Robert.

Are you saying you've heard folks say "John won his opponent" to mean he defeated his opponent? That's a new one on me.

As a transitive verb, Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary definitions of win include to get, to gain, to attain, and to be successful in. In none of those usages does it seem that a person could logically follow (unless, of course, the person is the prize: Achilles won Briseis). The only times a human seems an appropriate object of that transitive verb is in definitions like to win someone over and to gain someone's support or sympathy — neither of which equates to defeat.

So, unless I'm missing something, the Ravens didn't win the Patriots.

As for Robert's other question: Does "win" mean "ownership"? Not necessarily. Some definitions include enough elbow room for that, others don't seem to. You don't really own an argument you won, do you?

Anyway, I wrote to Robert, "I hope that helps (and I hope your wife doesn't hate me now!)."

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January 6, 2025

Things editors worry about that no one else does (or should)

TOPICS: GRAMMAR

There are a lot of things I change in the course of my editing work that, in the real world, don't matter at all.

that and which

toward and towards

among and amongst

amid and amidst

underway and under way

cellphone and cell phone

healthcare and health care

child care and childcare

For about 99% of the population, these choices matter not at all. That is, you can say your character ran toward the explosion or he ran towards it. They mean the same thing. And almost no one will notice your choice anyway.

But editors will. And if you put the sentence "Joe ran towards the explosion" under the nose of an editor or copy editor, chances are it'll get changed to "toward."

The reason? Well, a lot of editing choices are about consistency, some are about efficiency, some are about voice and some, like that and which, are about nothing at all.

Style guides say that you can't use which for what are called restrictive clauses: That is the car which I'll be driving. But that's just a style rule, not a grammar rule. And most people wouldn't put which in that sentence anyway. Either that or nothing at all would be better.

For cases like health care and healthcare in which you have to choose between a one-word and a two-word form, it often doesn't matter. Dictionaries disagree on which is correct, and some allow both. So you can either check your preferred dictionary or just not worry about it.

As for amongst and amidst, however, I'd actually recommend cashing those in for their shorter cousins, among and amid, in most cases. The longer forms are so unpopular in professional publishing that they carry a subtle air of amateurishness in a lot of cases. Or maybe that's just my warped view. Bottom line: Unless you're the editor, you probably don't have to worry about any of these.

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December 30, 2024

5 language resolutions for the new year

TOPICS: GRAMMAR

Even if you know a lot about grammar, there’s always more to learn. And what better time than the start of a new year? Here are some language resolutions to consider for 2025.

1. Challenge a long-standing language belief by checking a dictionary.

Unless you have a Ph.D. in linguistics, chances are you’ve fallen victim to some misperceptions. Think “since” can’t mean “because”? Think “between” is never for groups of three or more? Think a university can’t “graduate” a student? A quick check of a dictionary will dispel all these beliefs.

2. Learn one new grammar term.

Up your grammar game with a bit of advanced jargon. I suggest “modal auxiliary verb.” You use them every day, anyway, so why not? The most common modal auxiliary verbs are “must,” “can,” “should,” “would,” “may” and “might.” They’re similar to the two regular auxiliary verbs — “be” and “have” — in that they team up with other verbs (think: “I have walked” and “I am walking”). But modal auxiliaries express possibility (may, might), necessity (must), permission (may), ability (can), etc. Congratulations. You just learned a new grammar term. Did you already know about modals? Try looking up predicate nominatives, copular verbs or subordinating conjunctions.

3. Learn to conjugate one verb in a new language.

I’ve talked to a lot of people over the years who’ve tried and failed to pick up a foreign language. When I ask how they studied, the answer is often some app or language software marketed to adults with the promise of “easy, practical” learning. That is, handy phrases that go in one ear and out the other. In my humble opinion, there’s a better way: grammar. At least in the Latin-based languages I’ve studied, if you can’t say “I am,” “you are,” “he/she/it is,” “we are” and “they are,” you don’t have a foundation to build on. Start with just one verb and you’ll be well on your way to forming your first sentences.

4. Learn an irregular past form.

Not sure if it’s right to say, “I have swam” or “I have swum”? Do “drank” and “drunk” or “hanged” and “hung” or “woke,” “awoke” and “awakened” trip you up? Resolve to learn just one. Check the main form of the word — “swim,” “drink,” “hang,” “wake” — in a dictionary, then look at the bolded forms that immediately follow. Under “drink,” for example, you’ll see “drank,” which you know is the simple past tense because those are always listed first, after which you’ll see the past participles indicated with “drunk or drank,” meaning both are acceptable with the auxiliary “have”: I have drank and I have drunk. If that’s not advanced enough for you, memorize the past forms of both “lie” and “lay.”  For  the most proper use of “lie,” the simple past is “lay” (yesterday I lay), and the past participle is “lain” (in the past I have lain). For “lay,” both past forms are the same (yesterday I laid, in the past I have laid).

5. Use “me” in a compound object.

You’d never say, “Thanks for visiting I” or “Send the memo to I,” so why do you say, “Thanks for visiting Beth and I” and “Send the memo to Tom and I”? Somewhere along the line, too many of us got it into our heads that “me” is wrong anytime another person is involved. But that’s not true. The object of a verb (like “visit”) or a preposition (like “to”) doesn’t change form just because it’s more than one person: Try dropping the other person from your sentence to see whether “I” or “me” works alone. Then add the other person back in. Between you and me (not I), it’s not exactly wrong to use “I” in an object position. But it’s a shame if you do so because you were trying (and failing) to use proper English.

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December 23, 2024

'There's' before a plural

TOPICS: GRAMMAR, NOTIONAL SUBJECTS, THERE'S BEFORE A PLURAL

Here’s another thing I can’t help but wince at, even though I know grammar wincing is pointless:

There’s a lot of people outside.

I don’t know how I got so invested in the idea that that should be There are a lot of people outside.  But I, unwisely, let it rub me the wrong way every time I hear “there’s” before a plural.

Here’s the idea:

There’s is a contraction of “there is.” Is is singular. It goes with a singular subject, the dog is, versus are which is for a plural subject, the dogs are.

Sentences like There is a dog outside or There are dogs outside are special. Notice that the grammatical subject of both is there. So theoretically the verb shouldn’t change. But in fact, though in There is a dog outside, there is functioning as a pronoun, the real intended subject of the verb isn’t there. It’s dog. This sentence really means “A dog is outside.”

Grammarians label this “the existential there.” The word there is the grammatical subject and dog is something called a notional subject. It’s sort of the intended subject even though it’s been upstaged from the subject position by the pronoun there.

In these sentences, the verb is supposed to agree with the notional subject. So There are dogs and There is a dog are both correct because the verbs match the notional subject.

But over the years, there’s has become a handy shorthand for not just there is but also there are, especially when the next word to follow is some modifier like a lot, which has a singular flavor.

That's why There’s a lot of dogs outside sounds much better than There’s dogs outside.

Either way, though, you can get away it: “Like other grammatical subjects, [there] often determines the number concord, taking a singular verb even though the notional subject is plural” says the Oxford English Grammar.  “This usage is common in informal speech.”

In other words, I should loosen up a bit on this one.

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December 16, 2024

The never-ending myth about sentence-ending prepositions

TOPICS: GRAMMAR

Earlier this year, Merriam-Webster’s dictionary posted on Instagram, “It is permissible in English for a preposition to be what you end a sentence with” (see what they did there?). The result: uproar, like this reply from a user going by the name of AJWarren74: “Absolutely do NOT end a sentence with a preposition!! It’s like fingernails on a blackboard!! UGH.”

Aah, that takes me back. Seems like just yesterday people were telling me I was wrong about sentence-ending prepositions. Of course, correcting the publishers of one of the country’s leading dictionaries — professional lexicographers with decades of study and hard-earned expertise under their belts — is another matter entirely. It’s like telling your doctor that your liver is in your ear.

I learned two things from Merriam’s post and the ensuing uproar: 1. The myth about sentence-ending prepositions is alive and festering, and 2. Merriam’s could use some backup.

So what’s this grammar myth all about? The idea is that prepositions like “with,” “about,” “to,”  “at,” “in” and “on” take objects — nouns or pronouns that complete the thought. You spoke with Linda. You think about pizza. You walked to the store. You yelled at him. You’re grounded in reality. Your keys are on the table.

If you move any of those objects to an earlier position in the sentence and just leave the preposition parked at the end, the result could be a bad sentence. Linda is the person you spoke with. Pizza is what you think about. The store is where you walked to. He is who you yelled at. Reality is what you’re grounded in. The table is the thing your keys are on.

If you tell someone that a preposition at the end makes for a bad sentence, you’ll be right in a lot of cases, as the examples above prove. But not always. And if you tell people that this is a grammar rule they must follow, you’re not just giving them bad information — you’re telling them not to trust the instincts that lead English speakers to use prepositions well every day.

But you don’t have to take my word for it. You don’t even have to take the word of Merriam’s lexicographers. Every major grammar authority agrees, including the conservative ones.

“Not only is the preposition acceptable at the end, sometimes it is more effective in that spot than anywhere else,” advises Strunk and White’s “The Elements of Style.” Strunk and White argue persuasively that “A claw hammer, not an ax, was the tool he murdered her with” is superior to “A claw hammer, not an ax, was the tool with which he murdered her.” It sounds more natural and, as the authors argue, it’s more effective “because it sounds more violent.”

Or consider the words of one of the most conservative language authorities I know, Fowler’s Modern English Usage: “In most circumstances, especially in formal writing, it is desirable to avoid placing a preposition at the end of a clause or sentence,” the guide writes. “But there are many circumstances in which a preposition may or even must be placed late … and others where the degree of formality required governs the placing.”

Finally, consider this snarky example long misattributed to Winston Churchill (which researchers have since learned probably wasn’t Churchill at all but some unknown writer) about a sentence clumsily rewritten to move a preposition from the end:  “This is the type of English up with which I will not put!”   

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December 9, 2024

Towards, backwards, forwards? Why that s may not be a good idea

TOPICS: BACKWARD VS. BACKWARDS, TOWARD VS. TOWARDS

Every time I see the preposition “towards” in an article I’m editing, I delete the s. I’ve been doing this as long as I can recall, decades, and it’s been going on so long I don’t even remember why. I just know that, for whatever reason, “towards” simply won’t do.

This habit stands out among my other brain-on-autopilot edits because I never recheck this one. I never do a quick search of my AP Stylebook or my dictionary. I just delete the s.

I think about it so little that, in the 20-odd years I’ve been writing about grammar, it’s never crossed my mind to make “toward” and its cousins including “backward,” “forward” and “afterward” subjects of a column.

It’s time. And I’m pleased to report that the Associated Press Stylebook — that is, the rulebook I follow for most of my editing work — backs me up. It says, quite simply, in its entry for “toward”: “Not towards.”

That’s the whole entry. Whew. My laziness hasn’t come back to haunt me the way it did when I kept spelling out “percent” years after AP style switched to using “%.”

Of course, that rule really only applies in edited text. So what about everyday writing? Is “towards” allowed there? In my reading of Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary, the answer is yes.

Merriam’s dictionary doesn’t have an entry for “towards,” but it lists it under its entry for “toward” as a “variant.” This tells us two things: 1. It’s OK to use “towards,” and 2. Merriam’s dictionary prefers “toward."

Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary of English Usage, which is a usage guide and not a dictionary, goes deeper: “Many commentators have observed that ‘toward’ is the more common choice in American English, while the preference in British English is ‘towards.’ Our evidence confirms that such is indeed the case. Both words are commonly used in the U.S., but ‘toward’ is undoubtedly prevalent.”

The word dates back in Old English to sometime before the year 899, when it was written “toweardes.” According to Chambers Dictionary of Etymology, “toweardes” came from combining “to” with “weard,” which was a noun meaning direction, plus “es,” which indicated possession. Sometime before the year 1300, Old English seemed to drop the s, using just “toweard.” And within a century or two, “toward” and “towards” had appeared.

Back in the 1800s, “towards” was dominant in all the printed sources reflected in Google’s Ngram Viewer, which includes lots of American publications. But shortly after the turn of the 20th century, “toward” overtook “towards,” and has dominated ever since, despite a slight reversal of that trend that started just about seven years ago. 

As American English speakers became less inclined to add the s, British speakers kept it. Today, both spellings are correct in the U.S., though “toward” is the best choice if you want to emulate professionally edited writing.

As for “afterward” and “afterwards,” it’s the same story: American publishing usually drops the s, while British sources may keep it, according to Merriam’s usage guide. Merriam’s dictionary, meanwhile, doesn’t have an entry for “afterwards” and instead reroutes those searches to its entry for “afterward,” where it says the s-spelling is a variant.

“Backward” seems least controversial. Merriam’s usage guide doesn’t consider the issue worth mentioning at all, while the dictionary lists the s-spelling only as a variant of the more standard “backward.”

Here’s where things get weird: “forwards,” which I don’t recall ever hearing outside the expression “backwards and forwards,” does have its own entry in Merriam’s dictionary, suggesting it has more legitimacy than all those other s-forms we talked about above. But because its definition refers readers to the entry for “forward,” without the s, it’s clear that, just like “toward,” “afterward” and “backward,” “forward” is more proper without the s.

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December 2, 2024

How to avoid embarrassing errors on holiday greetings

TOPICS: COMMON GRAMMAR MISTAKES, GRAMMAR, HOW TO WRITE PLURAL LAST NAMES, possessives, WHAT IS THE PLURAL OF JONES

It's holiday greeting card season. And you know what that means: Humiliating grammar and punctuation errors. So here's how to avoid common mistakes.

Happy holidays from the Smiths!

Merry Christmas from the Rossis!

Happy New Year from the Thibodeauxes!

Happy Hannukah from the Williamses!

Happy holidays from the Gomezes!

We’re looking forward to visiting the Nashes.

Notice how there's no apostrophe in any of those plurals? One Smith, two Smiths. It doesn't matter if the last name ends with S, Z, X, Ch or Sh. No apostrophe is used to form the plural of a name.

Only if you were showing possession would an apostrophe apply. We're going to the Smiths' house (plural possessive). We're going to Mr. Smith's house (singular possessive). We're going to the Gomezes' house (plural possessive). We're going to Mr. Gomez's house (singular possessive).

If the opening line of your card has both a name and a greeting, separate those elements with a comma and end the sentence with a period, exclamation point, or colon.

Hi, Joe. Happy holidays, Beth! Hey, Mom.

This is preferable to the more common

Hey Joe,

with comma at the end because it conforms with publishing style rules that say to set off a “direct address” like a name with a comma.

However, if you’re opening with just a name and some other word modifying it, like Dear Joe, My beloved Beth, or Dearest Mom, don’t put a comma in those. Also, a greeting like this you can end with a comma or a colon, but note that a period or exclamation point wouldn’t make as much sense because — unlike Hey, Joe —  Dear Joe is not a complete sentence.

Dear Joe,

Dear Joe:

Christmas and New Year’s are proper nouns and are thus both capitalized. Happy and merry are not (though of course you'd capitalize them at the beginning of a sentence). Nor is holiday. New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day are also proper names that should be capitalized. But dictionaries disagree on the singular new year. Webster’s New World College Dictionary lowercases new year. But Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary says to capitalize New Year. Except in the most generic of contexts, I like the capitalized New Year better.

So you could write:

Wishing you and merry Christmas and a happy New Year! or … and a happy new year!

Both are fine.

The spelling of Hanukkah can be tricky because this word is transliterated from a different alphabet, and people can disagree on which English letter best represents any particular foreign sound. But Hanukkah is the preferred spelling of Webster’s New World and Merriam-Webster’s and, yes, it's capitalized.

Greeting cards have a way of inviting in some of the most incriminating spelling and grammar errors (maybe we’re so worried about coming up with something to say to Grandma that we forget to police ourselves), so watch out for these common typos.

Never use of in place of have or its abbreviated form 've in the terms could’ve, would’ve, should’ve, might've, or their spelled-out forms could have, would have, should have, and might have.

Remember the difference between let’s and lets: Let’s get together in the New Year means let us get together. Whereas the one without the apostrophe is the verb to let conjugated in the third-person singular: Uncle Lou really lets his hair down during the holidays.

Remember to watch their, they’re, and there, as well as who’s and whose.

Their shows possession – We will go to their house for Christmas dinner. They’re means they are. And there is a place.

Whose shows possession – Whose turn is it to cook? Who’s is always a contraction of who is or who has: Who’s going to cook this year?

When in doubt, find out. Ask a friend, check a dictionary, or run a quick Google search.

And happy holidays!

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November 25, 2024

Adjectives as noise

TOPICS: GRAMMAR, UNNECESSARY ADJECTIVES

Adjectives are controversial. Rightly so. About four times out of five, you can improve a sentence by cutting one out:

Joe is dating a beautiful supermodel.

Joe is dating a supermodel.

Clearly, the noun “supermodel” does not need to be propped up by an adjective. It’s powerful enough on its own.

Adjectives exist for a reason. You can’t just take the adjective out of the sentence: “She is beautiful," without its adjective, loses its meaning. But before a noun, an adjective can come off like a weak attempt to convince your reader of something he should be able to see for himself.

So adjectives have enough problems of their own. Yet marketers, it seems, are determined to bludgeon them into complete meaninglessness. They do this by using adjectives as mere noise. In marketers’ hands, adjectives are born to be ignored.

Take, for example, this Kashi brand cereal flavor: Island Vanilla.

Really, Kashi? Is that supposed to mean anything other than “vanilla plus some extra syllables to make it sound like something more than plain-old vanilla”?

Here’s another Kashi flavor I like: Harvest Wheat. Again, what does that adjective tell me about what I can expect when I open the box? Nothing. “Harvest wheat” is just wheat.

Kashi isn’t alone in this practice, not by a long shot.

Ragu has a flavor called Garden Vegetable, as opposed to what? Factory Vegetable?

Luden’s makes Wild Cherry cough drops, which we can only presume are superior to those awful farmed cherries.

And Kettle Chips come in this flavor: Backyard Barbeque. (You can almost taste the chain-link fence and kiddie pool.)

And what might a blind taste test tell us about the difference between chocolate and Dutch chocolate, between vanilla and French vanilla? About ranch and cool ranch?

Examples of this kind of hot-air blowing are too numerous to count. And while it’s standard marketing procedure, I think we should all be wee bit insulted by it. When marketers slap meaningless words onto product names in this fashion, it’s worse than telling people “Don’t think.” It’s telling people: “We know you don’t think and we’re so confident about it that we’re going to rub your noses in it.”

Okay, maybe that’s a little hypersensitive. But it’s still an insult to consumers and an act of violence against simple, clear nouns.

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November 11, 2024

'Wrack' and 'rack'

TOPICS: GRAMMAR, WRACK VS RACK

Do you wrack your brain or rack it?

Are you racked with guilt or wracked?

Are these questions nerve-wracking or nerve-racking?

Faced with these questions, I forget what I once learned. Rather than get it wrong or (heaven forbid) take the time to look it up, I just avoid these phrases altogether.

Turns out, that’s not a bad strategy. Though their origins point to different meanings, “wrack” and “rack” are often interchangeable today. But folks who choose their words carefully might want to keep the original meanings in mind.

“Rack” originates from a noun referring to a Medieval torture device, with the verb evolving to mean torture, strain or wreck. “Wrack” was born as a nautical term meaning, essentially, “wreck.”

“This etymology explains why the word is ‘nerve-racking’ rather than ‘nerve-wracking,’” insists Theodore Bernstein’s 1965 guide “The Careful Writer.” “Something that is nerve-racking does not wreck the nerves, it merely strains or tortures them.”

“Wrack,” by this reasoning, isn’t very useful — limited mainly to talk of ships and things that can be similarly wrecked: like a “storm-wracked vessel” or, from that, “wrack and ruin.”

Beware any usage guide that, like Bernstein, speaks in absolutes. Sometimes, their prohibitions are correct. But more often, the writer is a little drunk with power, demanding that good advice be treated as a hard rule.

In the real world, “rack” and “wrack” aren’t so simple. For more than a century, leading language experts have been doling out contradictory advice. Some, like Bernstein, say to keep these words separate and true to their origins.

Others say “wrack” is dead and to just use “rack” no matter your meaning. Though “wrack” is most certainly not dead (in fact, it has gotten a little more popular in the last 30 to 40 years), it wouldn’t be so bad to follow this advice. After all, how often do you talk about ships destroyed by storms?

Still other authorities, notably the official style guide of the New York Times, say to avoid both words and instead just find a more modern synonym. So what'a a conscientious writer to do? Some thoughts in my recent column.

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