Book Review: Summer Reading List

1 August 2004

This month in our book review section we take a look at three books that will make for some interesting summer reading. All three address word origins and all three consist of bite-sized sections that make for good commuter reading.

The first is the most interesting of the three, Paul McFedries’s Word Spy: The Word Lover’s Guide to Modern Culture. An offshoot of his excellent web site, www.wordspy.com, this is a book about neologisms and slang terms that denote the new facets of our ever-changing world. From accelerated culture (rapid cultural change) to wine porn (magazines and literature written for wine lovers), McFedries takes us on a linguistic excursion through our culture.

Word Spy starts out with a brief opening chapter on how words come into existence, an excellent overview of the topic that provides the theoretical underpinnings for understanding the rest of the book. But after this brief introduction, McFedries dives into the heart of the subject with twenty-one more chapters, each dealing with one aspect of our culture and the neologisms we have coined associated with it.

The chapters run the gamut of modern, post-industrial culture. McFedries gives us, for example, one on advertising, one on fast food, another on the dot-com boom and bust, and one on baby boomers. Each chapter is further divided into sub-sections that contain the neologisms. The chapter on activism includes terms like green collar worker (professional environmental activist), Frankenfood (genetically modified agricultural product), techno-strike (electronic attacks on the computer systems of an offending company or organization), lactivist (an advocate of breast feeding), and, of course, NIMBY (acronym for Not In My Back Yard, descriptive of activism aimed a preventing a socially important, but locally undesirable, institution or activity from setting up shop in one’s neighborhood).

The chapter on relationships and marriage treats us to fleshmeet (a face-to-face meeting of a group that knows each other from the internet), batmobiling (erecting emotional defenses before a relationship becomes intimate), bridezilla (a bride-to-be who in her eagerness for the perfect wedding becomes intolerable), and postmortem divorce (a stipulation that one is to be buried separately from one’s spouse).

The chapter on the modern workplace shows us cube (a semiprivate workspace), prairie dog (a verb meaning to stick your head above the walls of your cube out of curiosity for what is going on outside), ego wall (a wall hung with awards and photos of the employee with famous people), virtual office (a employee or business with no fixed address, operating with mobile phones and laptops), and corridor cruiser (an employee who spends his day going from one meeting to another).

Punditocracy (the collection of political commentators), theocon (a member of the religious right), push poll (a means of advertising by asking loaded questions in the guise of a pollster), and trial balloon leak (revealing a planned policy in an attempt to gauge popular support while maintaining deniability) are all dealt with in the chapter on politics.

Most of these terms come with usage citations and the book is indexed, making it a useful reference in years to come.

While all of them are recent coinages, most of the terms in the book were probably obsolete when the book was published, if they ever had wide currency in the first place. Such is the nature of slang in our accelerated culture. But that doesn’t mean that they are not fun to read about.

If only more word books were like Word Spy. McFedries has given us a well-researched book, yet one that is readable and fun. Nor does it fall into the trap of alphabetic organization—which is useful for reference books, but makes it difficult to see relationships and patterns in the words and phrases. Any word lover is going to enjoy this one.

Paperback; 432 pages; Broadway Books; February 2004; $15.95.

The second of our books is Words to the Wise: A Lighthearted Look at the English Language, by Michael J. Sheehan. This is a collection of questions and answers about words and language that Sheehan has been asked and has answered on his weekly radio program of that name. The program airs on WTCM in Traverse City, Michigan. The author is a retired professor of English.

Sheehan’s topics are from the entire spectrum of language and linguistics. He answers etymology questions, ones on usage, spelling, grammar, style, writing tips, and just about anything relating to language. His answers are brief, a paragraph long or two at the most.

And unlike some books of this nature, the answers in Words to the Wise are well-researched and based on a solid foundation of scholarship. Sheehan doesn’t fall for the linguistic urban legends that many others do and he is not afraid to say that the answer is unknown. His responses are brief, but correct. Where he is prescriptivist, his advice is sensible and recognizes that language changes and that a writer shouldn’t be straitjacketed by the past.

If the book has a drawback, it is a lack of organization. There are no chapters or sections. The book is simply a long string of questions and answers. This is enjoyable as an eclectic potpourri, but can be frustrating if you are trying to find a particular answer. Sheehan does, however, provide an index.
All in all, this is the ultimate in commuter reading. Keep a copy in your car for those moments when you are waiting for someone. The bite-sized Q&A are perfect to fill those wasted moments.

Paperback; 240 pages; Arbutus Press; May 2004; $15.00.

Our third and final book is Is That What It Means?: A Treasure Trove of Word Origins, by Max Oppenheimer. In many ways this is similar to Sheehan’s book above. Oppenheimer is also a retired university professor, this time a professor of foreign languages, and the book is a collection of articles that originally appeared in another format, here articles that originally appeared in a language column in the Sun City, Arizona Daily News and in Arizona Senior World. Oppenheimer’s articles are longer form than Sheehan’s, typically two pages each.

The book is more focused than Sheehan’s, dealing almost exclusively with etymology. Oppenheimer’s research is solid, at least when he sticks to straight etymology. His etymologies are well-researched and he makes some interesting associations between seemingly unrelated words. His ability to address cognates in a wide variety of languages is novel. Few are experienced in enough languages to attempt this consistently, and in this respect the book is particularly valuable.

It is where he strays from straight etymology into the wider realm of linguistics that Oppenheimer runs into trouble. He is clearly a fluent speaker of many languages, but he does not have a good grasp of basic linguistic theory (not surprising for a foreign languages professor, whose focus would be on grammatical instruction and literature). He is not a linguist and it shows. He occasionally delves into criticism of linguistics that he clearly does not understand. He also betrays a prescriptivist and curmudgeonly bent now and again. Fortunately, these incidents are few and the bulk of the book is solid.
Still, this is a minor flaw and Is That What It Means? will make a welcome addition to any summer reading list.

Paperback; 222 pages; Sunflower University Press; February 2004; $15.95

Word Watch: "Washington Read"

1 August 2004

One term that is is gaining some ground among those in government circles is the Washington read, the practice of standing in a bookstore and skimming the index of a new, tell-all book for references to yourself, instead of reading or buyrng the whole book.

Richard Armitage went so far as to admit to the 9/11 panel that he has given it “the Washington read"—i.e., he looked himself up in the index and then read “what was said about me.”
—“Womb It May Concern” by Sam Schechner, Slate.com, 26 March 2004

For power-readers, the “Washington read"—a perusal of the index and some corresponding text—has offered a shortcut some won’t admit to.
—“Making the List” by Ellen Gamerman, Baltimore Sun, 28 June 2004

Anyone who gave Clinton’s hefty book the Washington read (that is, a quick skim of the index pages) quickly discovered that Clinton made several mentions of Bossie.
—“You can’t teach an old attack dog new tricks,” by Eric Boehlert, Salon.com, 20 July 2004

Word of the Month: Olympic Games

1 August 2004

On the 13th of the month, the Olympic Games open in Athens Greece. It will be the 25th time the games have been held since the Olympics were revived in 1896. (Although it is the 28th modern Olympiad; three of the games were canceled during the two world wars.) In honor of the games and the athletes competing in them, our word of the month is Olympic Games, n.; originally games contested in honor of Zeus, held on the plain of Olympia in Greece every four to five years; the ancient games were first held ca.776 BC until they were abolished by Roman Emperor Theodosius in 394 AD; in modern use to denote the games established in 1896 by Baron de Coubertin.

What follows is an examination of words associated with the Olympics and Olympic sports.

agony, n.; anguish, pain; from the Greek agonia, meaning contest, struggle, ca.1386. The agon in ancient Greece were the spectators at games like the Olympics.

anchor, n.; from the Old English ancor, ultimately related to the Greek anc-, meaning bend or crook. The sense of the runner in the last leg of a relay race dates from 1934.

archery, n.; the skill and practice of using a bow and arrow, from the Old French archerie, before 1400. Archery was an Olympic medal sport from 1900 to 1920. It was reinstated in 1972.

athlete, n.; from the Latin athleta, ultimately from the Greek athletes, which in turn is from athlos, contest. In English use from 1528 to denote a participant in ancient games, from 1827 to denote modern participants in physical games and feats. The adjective athletic is from 1636. The noun athletics, denoting physical contests is from 1727. An obsolete form of the noun, athletic, is from 1605.

badminton, n.; a game similar to lawn tennis, played with shuttlecocks instead of balls, 1874; named after a town and estate in Gloucestershire, meaning the estate of a man named Baduhelm. An Olympic medal sport since 1992.

baseball, n.; a game popular in the United States where a batter hits a pitched ball and attempts to round a circuit of bases before being tagged with the ball by one of the nine defenders. The name of the game dates to 1744 and was used for various precursors of the modern game, the rules of which were codified in 1845. An Olympic medal sport since 1992.

basketball, n., game invented by James Naismith in 1892, where two teams of five compete to sink a ball into baskets hung ten feet high at either end of the court. Men’s basketball has been an Olympic sport since 1936, women’s since 1976.

bicycle, n. & v.; a two-wheeled vehicle powered by the rider, to ride a bicycle; adopted from French in 1868. The French word is a modern formation from the Latin bi-, two, and the Greek kuklos, wheel. The clipped form, cycling, has been in use since 1883. Cycling has been an Olympic sport since 1896.

box 1) n.; a blow from a fist; a Middle English word of unknown origin, ca.1385. Cognates in other Germanic languages are all borrowings from English. 2) v.; to hit with a fist; from the noun, 1519. 3) boxing, the sport of fighting with fists; 1711. Boxing has been an Olympic sport since 1904.

canoe, n. & v.; a small boat without a keel; 1555. From the Spanish canoa, ultimately from a native Haitian word. The verb meaning to paddle or propel a canoe is from 1842. Canoeing has been an Olympic sport since 1936.

Citius, Altius, Fortius, c.phr.; Latin phrase meaning faster, higher, stronger. The motto of the Olympic games since 1924.

decathlon, n.: an athletic contest of ten different track-and-field events; modern formulation from the Greek deca-, ten, and athlos, contest, 1912. The Olympic decathlon consists of the long jump, high jump, discus throw, shot put, javelin throw, 100 m race, 400 m race, 1,500 m race, 110 m hurdles, and the pole vault. The winner of the Olympic decathlon is dubbed “the world’s greatest athlete.”

discus, n.; a metal plate used in throwing competitions; from the Latin, ultimately from the Greek diskos.

dive, v.; to plunge into liquid; from two Old English verbs, dufan, meaning to duck or sink, and dyfan, to dip or submerge. Diving has been an Olympic sport since 1904.

dressage, n.; the discipline of training horses to perform precise movements; from the French, literally meaning training, 1936. Dressage has been an Olympic event since 1912.

épée, n.; a sword designed for thrusting; in competition, the same length as a foil, but heavier and stiffer. From the French word for sword, 1889.

equestrian, adj.; pertaining to horse riding; from the Latin eques meaning horseman, 17th century. Equestrian events have been competed at the Olympics since 1900.

eventing, n.; an equestrian competition that combines jumping and dressage; from one-, two-, or three-day event, 1965. Prior to 1952, Olympic competition in eventing was restricted to military officers.

fencing, n.; the art and discipline of swordmanship; a clipping of defence. The archaic noun fence dates to 1533 and the modern fencing is from 1581. The verb dates to 1598. Fencing has been an Olympic sport since 1896.

foil, n.; a light, flexible thrusting sword with a blunt point used for practice or competition; the word dates to 1594 and is of unknown origin. Possibly a reference to the blunted or “foiled” point or possibly from parrying or “foiling” an opponent’s thrust.

football, n.; a game where two teams attempt to kick a ball down a field to a goal at either end; from 1424. The modern game dates to 1863 when the English Football Association was created. Men’s football has been an Olympic sport since 1900, women’s since 1996.

Fosbury flop, n.; high-jumping technique in which the athlete attempts to clear the bar facing upwards, with back to the bar; after high-jumper Dick Fosbury who used the technique to win the gold medal in the 1968 Mexico City Games.

gymnasium, n.; a place to practice athletics; from the Latin and ultimately the Greek meaning literally to train while naked, 1598.

gymnastic, adj. & n.; from the Greek meaning skilled in athletics, this was the original English sense from 1574. The modern sense of gymnastics, meaning a set of exercises requiring strength and coordination, is from 1652. An Olympic sport since 1896.

handball, n.; a game between two teams of seven who throw, catch, and dribble a ball toward goals at either end the court. Men’s handball as been an Olympic sport since 1936; women’s since 1976.

heat, n.; originally a warm-up or practice race, now a race to qualify athletes for further competition; from the idea of warming up or getting hot, 1577. 

heptathlon, n.; an event comprising seven different athletic events; a modern formulation from the Greek hept-, seven, and athlos, contest, 1977. The constituent events in the Olympics are 100 m hurdles, long jump, high jump, 200 m race, shot put, javelin throw, and 800 m race. The Olympic heptathlon is a women’s event, the counterpart of the men’s decathlon. The heptathlon has been competed since 1984.

hippodrome, n.; a track for horses or chariot races; from the Greek hippo, horse, + dromus, race. In English use to refer to ancient race tracks since 1549.

hockey, n.; a game where two teams use sticks or clubs, curved at one end, to drive the ball toward goals at either end of the field; called field hockey in North America to distinguish it from ice hockey. Possibly from the Old French hoquet, meaning a shepherd’s crook, but early citations are lacking. Modern use of the word hockey dates to 1838. There is an isolated appearance of the word in the 16th C. Hockey has been an Olympic sport since 1908

hurdle, n.; a barrier across a racecourse that a runner must leap over, in plural form a footrace of this type; from the Old English hyrdel, a portable frame used for temporary fencing, in athletic usage since 1833

javelin, n., a light spear thrown by hand, now used primarily in athletic competition; from the French javeline, in English use from 1513.

judo, n.; martial art developed by Jigoro Kano in the 1880s; from the Japanese name for the sport, which in turn is derived from Chinese, jou, gentleness, and tao, way. Judo has been an Olympic sport since 1964.

jump the gun, c.phr.; to begin a race before the starter’s pistol is fired, metaphorically to begin any venture before one is supposed to; the phrase beat the gun/pistol has been in use since 1905. The switch to jump dates to at least 1942 and is American in origin.

kayak, n.; a small, covered boat allowing one or two passengers and propelled by a double-bladed paddle; from the Inuit qajaq; in English use from 1757. Kayaking has been an Olympic sport since 1936; women’s kayaking has been competed since 1948.

lap, v. & n.; to travel a single circuit of a racecourse, a single circuit of a racecourse, to pass a competing runner; from the sense meaning to fold or coil, from 1923 in the athletic sense.

marathon, n.; a running race of 26 miles, 385 yards (41.195 km), metaphorically any lengthy endeavor; in English use since the first modern Olympics in 1896; after a town on the Greek coast, the site of an Athenian victory over the Persians in 490 BC. The name of the modern race comes from the legend that a messenger ran the 22 miles from Marathon to Athens to bring news of the victory, dying just after delivering the message. Sometimes the messenger is identified as Pheidippides, who Herodotus records as running the 150 miles from Athens to Sparta to secure aid before the battle.

Olympiad, n.; period of time between one ancient Olympic competition and the next; from the Greek; in English usage since at least 1387. In modern use to mean the modern Olympic competitions, 1896.

palaestra, n.; a wrestling practice arena, a gymnasium; from the Greek, in English use from 1412.

pentathlon, n.; an event comprising five athletic events; from the Greek penta-, five, + athlos, contest; the modern pentathlon event in the Olympics consists of pistol shooting, épée fencing, 200 m swim, equestrian show jumping, and a 3,000 m running race. Prior to the advent of the heptathlon in 1984, the pentathlon was also a women’s athletic event consisting of running, hurdles, long jump, high jump, and shot put.

ping pong, n.; table tennis; echoic from the sound of the ball striking the paddle, since 1900. Ping pong has been an Olympic event since 1988.

relay, n.; a type of running race between teams of athletes, usually four, each member running one leg of the race; this sense is in English use from 1898. In earlier use to mean a set of hounds and horses posted to continue a hunt for a deer when the first set is tired. From ca.1410, from the Old French relais.

row, v.; to propel a boat via oars; from Old English, c.950. Rowing has been an Olympic sport since 1896.

sabre, n.; a curved, cutting sword; from the French, 1680. The French word is an unexplained alteration of the German sable; the origin of the German word is unknown. It is saber in American spelling.

sail, v.; to propel a boat using wind power; from the Old English siälan, ca.893. Sailing has been an Olympic sport since 1900.

shoot, v.; to move swiftly, to rush, to send forth, to throw or propel, esp. missile or bullets from a firearm; from the Old English scéotan, a common Germanic root. Shooting has been an Olympic event since 1896.

shuttlecock, n.; the object volleyed back and forth in badminton, consisting of a cork ball with a tail of feathers; from shuttle, meaning dart, + cock, in reference to the feathers; in use from 1522.

skeet, n.; a form of clay pigeon shooting in which pigeons are projected at a variety of angles along a semicircular range; the name was an American invention in 1926, modeled after the Old English scéotan, to shoot.

soccer, n.; a name for football, esp. in the United States; formed from Assoc., short for Association Football, a name that distinguished it from rugby; 1889.

softball, n., a game similar to baseball, but played with a larger ball which is pitched to the batter underhanded. The name dates to 1926, although the sport is somewhat older. Softball has been a women’s Olympic sport since 1996.

sprint, v. & n.; to run a short-distance at full speed, a race of this type; from the Old Norse spretta, in dialectical English until the 1860s when it became standard.

stadium, n.; an ancient unit of linear measure of 600 Greek or Roman feet, a race and racecourse of this length; in English use from 1398. By 1603, the sense had transferred to the place of competition

steeplechase, n.; a cross-country race with obstacles such as fences and water jumps; originally a horseracing term, 1793, later applied to footraces, 1864. From the phrase to hunt the steeple, a horseracing game where riders would race to the nearest church steeple, 1785.

swim, v.; to move through water; from Old English. Swimming has been an Olympic event since 1896.

table tennis, n.; a game of tennis played with paddles and a small ball on top of a table; 1887. Table tennis has been an Olympic event since 1988.

taekwondo, n.; a Korean martial art characterized by kicking and punching; from tae, kick, + kwon, fist, + do, art. In English use since 1967. An Olympic event since 2000.

tennis, n.; a racquet sport where players volley the ball back and forth over a net; in English use since c.1400 to denote an early form of the game now known as real tennis or court tennis. The modern game was originally known as lawn tennis, 1874, and clipped to simply tennis by 1878. The origin of the name is not certain, but is probably from the French tenez, meaning prepare to receive, a call made by the server. Tennis was competed at the Olympics from 1896 to 1924. The sport returned to the Olympics in 1988.

track, n.; a racecourse, 1836; US term for athletics; a clipping of track and field, 1934. From the older sense meaning a trail, 1470, from the Old French trac.

track and field, n.; athletics, track denotes running events and field the throwing and jumping events; 1905.

trap, n.; a device for projecting a clay pigeon into the air, 1812; clay pigeon shooting in general; from the sense of a device used to catch animals; Old English treppe.

volleyball, n.; a sport where teams volley a ball over a high net, 1896; from the French volée, simultaneous discharge of missiles, late-16th C. An Olympic sport since 1964.

weightlifting, n.; sport where the competitors lift ever increasing weights, 1896. An Olympic event since that year.

western roll, n.; high jumping technique where the athlete takes off with the leg nearest the bar and rolls towards the bar, clearing it horizontally and face down; 1964.

wrestle, v.; to strive to throw an opponent to the ground by grappling and holding; from Old English. Wrestling has been an Olympic sport since 1896.

Book Review: Lynne Truss's Eats, Shoots & Leaves

1 July 2004

A panda walks into a cafe. He orders a sandwich, eats it, then draws a gun and fires two shots in the air.
“Why?” asks the confused waiter, as the panda makes towards the exit. The panda produces a badly punctuated wildlife manual and tosses it over his shoulder.
“I’m a panda,” he says, at the door. “Look it up.”
The waiter turns to the relevant entry and, sure enough, finds an explanation:
“Panda. Large black-and-white bear-like mammal, native to China. Eats, shoots and leaves.”

The idea that a book on proper punctuation would rocket to the top of the bestseller charts is ludicrous. But the cliché says that truth is stranger than fiction, and indeed, such a thing has happened. As I write this review, Lynne Truss’s Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation is number two on the New York Times bestseller list and has been on the list for ten weeks. It is number three on the Amazon.com sales list. Compounding the strangeness is that the book is British and has not been edited to reflect differences in American punctuation. The book has achieved similar commercial success in Britain.

Longtime readers who know of my descriptivist bent may be surprised to hear this, but I was rather eagerly looking forward to the American debut of this book. I have long held that punctuation, along with related rules about capitalization, spelling, and spacing, are the traffic signals of the written word. They serve to make reading easier and the writer’s meaning clearer. As such, standardization is highly prized. This book, however, does little to aid this goal.

Even more amazing is that this book is not a particularly good book on punctuation. It is not organized to be a useful guide or reference. Its jokes, of which there are many, are mildly amusing at best, often simply feeble, and always smarmy and smug. Truss provides no conceptual underpinning for the rules she promulgates, simply stating that these are the rules and that’s that. And she and her editors commit the sin of sins for a prescriptivist tome, it is filled with “errors” and violations of the very rules it advocates.

In defense of the first two criticisms, that it was not edited for the American market and that it does not provide clear rules for the punctuation it espouses, it should be noted that the book is not intended as a style guide. Rather it is a manifesto, a call to arms, as it were, for people to take up the cudgel and go to war for good punctuation.

As to the British bent to the book, the publisher’s note states, “any attempt at a complete Americanization of this book would be akin to an effort to Americanize the Queen of England: futile and, this publisher feels, misguided.” That’s fair enough. But one can then hardly use this as a criticism for punctuation practices in America.

Okay, so one should not try and use it as a style guide or a reference. With no index, detailed table of contents, or appendix that lays out the rules according to Truss, you will get no help from this book in determining whether a particular punctuation is correct. But is it an effective manifesto?

My vote is no. This is not a manifesto, but rather a tantrum. Truss wants something from the language, but she cannot articulate what it is. So she just complains. Every good manifesto lists a bill of particulars, clearly stating exactly what the call to arms is all about. Take the Declaration of Independence, for example. Once one gets past the familiar opening paragraphs about self-evident truths and men being created equal, the bulk of the document consists of a long list of specific and clearly stated complaints, such as:

He [George III] has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:

For Quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:

For protecting them, by a mock Trial, from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:

For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:

For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:

For depriving us, in many cases, of the benefits of Trial by Jury:

For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences:

For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies:

For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws, and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:

For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.

Jefferson leaves no doubt as to exactly why the colonists were rebelling back in 1776. By contrast, Truss rarely articulates what the rules of punctuation should be. She simply complains that people aren’t following them (whatever they are). And when she does state the rules, she violates them herself at various points in the book.

Truss also fails to explain exactly why good punctuation is so important. There is a need for this, but Eats, Shoots and Leaves does not meet it. Other than examples of benefits to clarity, like that of the title, she does not make a conceptual case. Let’s go back to the Declaration of Independence. In its opening paragraphs, Jefferson makes the general case:

That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed,—That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.

Only then does he list the bill of particulars detailing how George III became destructive of the end of securing the unalienable rights of the American colonists. It is this conceptual argument, a theory of government that Jefferson distills into two paragraphs of glorious prose, for which people remember and value the Declaration. The list of particulars is largely forgotten and ignored, irrelevant to all but historians.

Truss attempts but fails to do this in the introduction, leaving us with a rambling mess of particulars that lack coherence or clarity. The closest she comes is a quote from a stylebook of an unnamed British newspaper defining punctuation as, “a courtesy designed to help readers to understand a story without stumbling.” Unfortunately this definition is incomplete and Truss fails to develop it.

Instead of explaining how punctuation can assist reading and comprehension, Truss simply gives negative examples of how poor punctuation obscures meaning. While many of these examples, like the Panda joke represented by the book’s title, are amusing, they are hardly the stuff of revolutionary fervor.

Instead it is a call to rap people upside the head and tell them to use correct punctuation or they will appear as idiots—and points for the need for a style guide as opposed to a manifesto.

It also ignores a second, equally important function of punctuation: it serves to translate the tone and rhythm of speech into print. Most people think that writing is the primary mode of language, but that is not the case. Writing is usually nothing more than an attempt to imitate speech.

The lack of a conceptual underpinning to her rant leads to her rule about when to use a comma splice, “only do it if you’re famous” (p. 88). Instead of explaining how great writers have used the comma splice for effect, she simply adopts the posture that you can get away with violating the rules if you’re notable enough.

And evidently, Truss thinks she is notable enough herself to violate the very rules she promulgates. For example, Truss lists three acceptable uses for the semicolon, to link independent clauses without using a conjunction, to separate items in a list that contain commas, and to denote a pause that is longer than that created by a comma. (Actually, Truss gives conflicting explanations of what the third rule actually is. This is the explanation given in the section on semicolons, but in the chapter on commas Truss says that a semicolon should be used to join clauses that are linked by the conjunctions however and nevertheless.) Yet right there in the preface (to the American edition) she writes:

My hopes for Eats, Shoots & Leaves were bold but bathetic; chirpy but feet-on-the-ground; presumptuous yet significantly parenthetical.

Either she has made an error by omitting the commas before “but” and “yet,” or she should use commas for the items in the list, not semicolons.
In the very next sentence, she misuses quotation marks, using them for emphasis rather than quotation (italics would be a better choice):

My book was aimed at the tiny minority of British people “who love punctuation and don’t like to see it mucked about with”.

And then in the next sentence Truss violates more rules of quotation marks, failing to place a comma before the quotation and switching from British to American practice and placing the ending comma inside the marks. To cap it off, she uses a comma when she should be using a semicolon:

When my own mother suggested we print on the front of the book “For the select few,” I was hurt, I admit it; I bit my lip and blinked a tear.

All this and we’re only on the second page of the preface.

Eats, Shoots & Leaves is also filled with misquotations and misstatements. On page 143, Truss has Professor Henry Higgins in My Fair Lady saying, “The Arabs learn Arabian with the speed of summer lightning.” The line actually reads, “Arabians,” not “Arabs.” That’s a minor nitpick, but sloppy research like this leads to more significant errors, such as when she writes:

British readers of The New Yorker who assume that this august publication is in constant ignorant error when it allows “1980’s” evidently have no experience with how that famously punctilious periodical operates editorially.

Evidently Truss has no experience in this regard either. The New Yorker style is to spell out the names of decades, “the nineteen-eighties.”

After all this, we return to the conundrum presented at the beginning. Why is it that a book on punctuation, especially one that is not very good, is so wildly popular on both sides of the Atlantic? The answer is that smug superiority sells. Write a book disdaining how the unwashed masses do things; include quotes from Fielding, Woolf, and Shaw; tell an amusing anecdote or two about James Thurber and Harold Ross and you have a bestseller. The key to understanding the success of Eats, Shoots & Leaves (and any other prescriptivist book for that matter) is that it feeds the egos of those with literary pretensions. But this kind of prescriptivism displays a fundamental misunderstanding of what language is.

Grammatical language is the greatest and most democratic of human institutions. It is what separates us from the other animals. It is not an invention of one person, but of us all. It belongs to all of us, but is answerable to none of us. It is wild, ever changing, and quite ungovernable. Ungovernable, but it can be mastered—not as a trainer masters a wild horse, but as a surfer masters a wave, using the force of it to propel the writer and the audience in an exhilarating rush.

Language is not mastered by adhering to strict rules. It is mastered by understanding which rules actually exist and why. Once this understanding is reached, one can apply, bend, and ignore the rules as appropriate to achieve great effect.

Hardcover; 240 pages; Gotham Books; April 2004; ISBN: 1592400876; $17.50.

Word of the Month: Liberty

1 July 2004

July hosts the anniversaries of two great 18th century political revolutions, the American and the French. Despite their occurrence in the late 18th century and commonality of political ideals and rhetoric, the two revolutions could hardly have been more different. One was the secession of a group of colonies led by wealthy merchants and landowners. The other was an uprising by the mob in the streets. One was relatively bloodless, the worst punishment inflicted on those that supported the old regime was usually forced exile and seizure of property. The usual punishment in the other was loss of one’s head.1 One resulted in a long-lasting and stable democratic government. The other resulted in rule by a megalomaniac intent on conquering all of Europe.

The 4th of July is Independence Day in the United States, the day in 1776 when the 2nd Continental Congress approved the draft Declaration of Independence written by Thomas Jefferson and broke its political ties with Britain. Ten days later, on the 14th, is the anniversary of the 1789 storming of the Bastille prison in Paris, the event that marks the beginning the of the French Revolution.

Because of this, our word of the month is liberty, n., freedom, esp. from the political dominion of others, c.1375, taken as a rallying cry of the revolutions of the 18th C. Some other terms associated with the American and French Revolutions are:

ancien régime, n., the former system of government, esp. the French monarchy before 1789, in English use from 1794.

articles of confederation, n., a written agreement that governs an alliance between persons or states, esp. used as the proper name for an early American constitution, in force from 1777-1789. In use since 1603.

Benedict Arnold, n., a traitor, also arnold, after an American revolutionary general who offered to surrender the fortress of West Point to the British for ₤20,000; the plot was foiled when his accomplice, a Major André, was captured. Arnold’s treachery was especially galling to the Americans because he had been one of their greatest heroes. He was personally responsible for the American victory at Saratoga—the turning point in the war, and was perhaps the only truly great military leader on the American side other than Washington. Arnold escaped to Britain; André was hanged. In metaphorical use since 1793.

bill of rights, n., a legally binding declaration of political privileges and immunities, esp. the English Bill of Rights, passed by Parliament in 1689 which limited the powers of the crown, or the first ten amendments to the US constitution, passed in 1789, which limited the powers of the federal government and guaranteed certain individual liberties. In contemporary use, the term is often used as a label for legislation that provides benefits to a group of citizens, e.g., the G.I. Bill of Rights passed by Congress in 1944 that provided educational and other benefits to soldiers returning from the war and the various proposed Patient’s Bills of Rights, that seek to govern the health insurance industry.

bourgeois, adj., 1) pertaining to the French middle classes, 1564; 2) pertaining to the middle class in general, often used disparagingly to denote conventional and unimaginative styles and tastes, 1764; in Marxist usage, capitalistic, 1850; n., 1) a French freeman living in a city or town, contrasting with the peasant class and nobility, now used to denote the mercantile or middle class of any country, from 1674; 2) in Marxist usage, an exploiter of the proletariat, from 1883; 3) a socially conventional person, 1930.

commune, n., a French administrative district that governs a municipality, 1792, esp. the Commune of Paris, which usurped the power of the municipal government in 1792 and played a leading role in the Reign of Terror until suppressed in 1794, also the name for a short-lived communist government established in Paris in 1871. Since 1818 the term has also been used to denote a community established on principles of shared resources and labor.

constitution, n., the system of principles and institutions by which a nation is governed, the supreme governing principles of law. Constitutions may be unwritten, as in Britain, or written documents, as in the United States. From 1735.

émigré, n., a French royalist who fled the country in the wake of the revolution, 1792; in contemporary use to denote any political exile, 1955.

federalist, n., one who advocated for a strong, central government in the wake of the American Revolution, a member of the Federalist Party, 1787. The Federalist Papers were a series of newspaper editorials that advocated ratification of the US Constitution, written anonymously by James Madison, Alexander Hamilton, and John Jay.

give me liberty or give me death, c.phr., motto of the American Revolution, first uttered by Patrick Henry on the floor of the Virginia House of Burgesses in March 1775.

guillotine, n. & v., a device, consisting of a blade suspended between two grooved posts, used to behead people, from the name of its inventor, Dr. Joseph Guillotin. In use from 1792 in French, 1793 in English. The verb, meaning to behead someone by a guillotine, has been in English use since 1794.

Hamiltonian, n. & adj., a follower of the political ideas articulated by Alexander Hamilton, the first US secretary of the treasury, who advocated for a strong central government, a national bank, and for government’s role in promoting commercial interests of the nation; pertaining to those ideas; in use as a noun since 1797, as an adjective since 1843. Cf. Jeffersonian.

Hessian, adj. & n., pertaining to the state of Hesse in Germany, 1677; a native of Hesse, esp. one of the mercenary soldiers from Hesse employed by the British during the American Revolution, 1729; a mercenary regardless of state of origin, 1877.

in harm’s way, c.phr., applied to military, esp. naval, actions, from a 1778 quote by John Paul Jones: “I wish to have no Connection with any Ship that does not Sail fast, for I intend to go in harm’s way.”

Jacobin, n. & adj., a member of a French political society that advocated extremes of democracy and equality or sympathizers with their cause, 1790; by 1800 the term had generalized to mean any political reformer. From the nickname of the Dominican Order of the Roman Catholic clergy, c.1325; given because their first monastery in France was at the Church of St. Jacques in Littré. The political society met in a former Dominican monastery.

Jeffersonian, adj. & n., pertaining to the political doctrines of Thomas Jefferson, who advocated a minimalist and decentralized government and emphasis on individual rights and freedoms, 1799; a follower of the political ideas of Jefferson, 1803. Cf. Hamiltonian.

John Hancock, n., a signature, 1903, from John Hancock’s signature on the Declaration of Independence, which was unusually large and bold. Hancock, a prominent Boston merchant, was the president of the 2nd Continental Congress and the first to sign the Declaration.

liberté, egalité, fraternity, c.phr., motto of the French Revolution, meaning liberty, equality, brotherhood. In December 1790, Robespierre recommended that these words be emblazoned on the uniforms and flags of the National Guard; his proposal was rejected, but the phrase continued in informal use. The phrase was finally officially enshrined in the preamble to the constitution of the Fifth Republic in 1958.

life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, c.phr., enshrined by Thomas Jefferson in the Declaration of Independence as the inalienable rights of humans, based on life, liberty, and property, advocated by John Locke as the basic rights of humans.

macaroni, n., a dandy or fop, from London’s Macaroni Club, an establishment known for serving foreign foods, hence the name, and for its stylish and well-dressed members, 1764. Now chiefly remembered because of a line in the song Yankee Doodle, popular during the American Revolution, “stuck a feather in his cap and called it Macaroni.”

Marseillaise, n., the French National Anthem, composed in 1792, the original French title was Chant de guerre pour l’armée du Rhin, but from the beginning the song was also called La Marche des Marseillois, after volunteer army units from Marseilles who adopted it as their anthem. It was being called l’hymne des Marseillais by 1795. The form la Marseillaise is not attested in French until 1832. In English, the name The Marseillaise Hymn was in use by 1794 and The Marsellois by 1815.

minuteman, n., 1) the member of an American militia unit during the Revolution who held themselves ready for immediate service, 1774; 2) more generally, a member of any militia group or political cause, esp. in the late 20th century a member of such a group that advocates military action against the US government, 1859; 3) name for a type of intercontinental ballistic missile, 1961.

patriot, n., from the French patriote, ultimately from the Latin patriota, fellow-countryman, and the Greek, patrios, of one’s father. One who sacrifices for the well-being of one’s nation, 1605.

republic, n., a state where supreme power lies with the people and their elected representatives, from either the French république or Latin respublica, 1604.

shot heard ‘round the world, c.phr., name given to the first shot fired at the Battle of Lexington that started the American Revolution, from an 1875 poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson commemorating the centennial of the event, “Here once the embattled farmers stood / And fired the shot heard round the world.”

terrorism, n., the use of violence and fear to achieve political goals, originally applied to the period from March 1793 to July 1794 where the party in power in France engaged in indiscriminate bloodshed, the reign of terror, in English use from 1795.

Tory, n., an anglicized spelling of the Irish tóraidhe, or pursuer. 1) an Irish outlaw, 1646; 2) a supporter of James, Duke of York who was excluded from the Crown because he was Roman Catholic, so called because many of his supporters were Irish, 1679; 3) a political party that arose from James’ supporters, the forerunner of the modern Conservative party, 1689; 4) in US usage, one who remained loyal to the crown during the American Revolution, originally members of the Tory party, 1775.

(Notes)
1 Some 15,000 died in the American Revolution, mostly soldiers from disease or in battle. Over 40,000 died by the guillotine in Paris alone.