Heavy Plant Crossing

I have been enjoying a frivolous series of letters in the Independent which rely on the kind of play on words which tends to be easier in English than other European languages.

The common road sign ‘heavy plant crossing’ brings a picture into my mind of a large and clumsy cactus plodding across the road very slowly, causing motorists to shake their fists and shout abuse. This morning’s letter referred to an Australian sign ‘Lyre birds cross’; the writer was glad to report that he had managed to escape their wrath. Crossings for zebras and humped pelicans led one reader to ask whether it might not be kinder to provide an underpass for these poor creatures. What about ‘dead slow children’ – surely they need a patient teacher rather than a crossing?

My favourite so far came from a reader from Cardiff where the sign outside the local steelworks reads ‘Danger – hot slag crossing’.

Simple humour: timeless, harmless and fun.

Pandas – the shocking truth

David Thomas: The world’s most useless creatures

I love this article!

It made me laugh several times, makes a strong point without being pompous about it and uses words in a surprising way. Like all the best writing, it is aimed at a specific audience and would certainly displease some people.

It starts ‘Bloody pandas.’ Immediately you are with the writer or against him. If you object to all swear words and refuse to hear a word against pandas, you may not read any further. But you are up for a bit of contrarian thinking and find directness refreshing, you will happily set aside the next few minutes in anticipation of a rewarding read. You won’t be disappointed.

I recommend reading the article of course, but if you are disinclined to do that, let me at least share these comments on pandas.

Essentially, they are the WAGs of the animal kingdom: superficially attractive in an obvious sort of way, but entirely lacking in any genuine accomplishment.

Their rise to global triumph, as a symbol of all things furry, is a telling commentary on our obsession with appearance over substance.

All through the brutally repressive years of the Cultural Revolution, Mao was lobbing pandas at Western zoos.

Refreshing? Amusing? I think so.

The UK is grown-up now.

I have stopped buying things except to replace worn-out or used-up ones. I am grown-up and have all that I need. Instinctively, this seems to me to apply to the UK economy, but I know so little about economics that I assumed there was some obscure reason why it could never grow up.

It is for this reason that I say ‘well done’ to Mary Dejevsky who questions the need for growth using facts and credible arguments.

I recommend that you read ‘Why this Obsession with Growth?‘ for two reasons. I find it well structured and clearly written so it qualifies on the ‘read good stuff’ criterion. It is interesting too because it expresses a point of view that runs counter to the one that is normally taken for granted.

Let me know what you think.

 

Do Four Negatives make a Positive?

Some words have a built-in negative meaning, so you can write in a negative way without using words like ‘not’ and ‘no’. You probably knew that, but it was worth saying because the rest of this blog would be very confusing if you didn’t. I mean words like ‘deny’ which means ‘not agree’, and ‘refuse’ which means ‘not accept’. The following sentence in this morning’s Independent contained so many that I had to read it with and without my glasses several times before I understood it.

“More than 80 of his MPs defied a three-line whip to vote against the Government over its refusal to allow a referendum on EU withdrawal.”

So run that past me one more time. Who wants what again?

There was a three-line whip to vote against the Government.  No that can’t be right. Let’s take this one step at a time.

More than 80 of Cameron’s MPs did NOT follow the whip. (Which suggests that  they voted the way the Government did NOT want them to.) The Government does NOT want a referendum. The referendum (which we aren’t going to have even though 80 MPs didn’t say they didn’t want it) was to ask people if they want NOT to be in Europe.

Good. I am glad we have got that sorted out. And we haven’t even mentioned the politics.

I am a great fan of the Independent, but the Guardian definitely wins on clarity this time:

“…nearly half of Cameron’s backbenchers defied a three-line whip and voted in favour of a motion calling for a referendum on whether Britain should remain in the EU on current terms, whether to leave or whether to renegotiate Britain’s membership.”

A fraction of the meaning

Have you noticed how often the expression ‘a fraction of’ is used, to mean ‘a very small fraction of’? Here are some headlines:

Oxi: Twice as powerful as crack cocaine at just a fraction of the price

Royal living at a fraction of the cost

Holiday homes with a fraction of the hassle

I know headlines need to be short, so maybe they are forgiven, but I notice it all over the place. A fraction could be ninety-nine one-hundredths, or even closer to one than that. I guess nine-eighths is a fraction too – that’s more than one!

What interests me is that when I read the headline about the holiday homes, I register immediately that these holiday homes are far far less hassle than some other holiday homes, which is what the writer wanted me to do. But what does the headline actually say? Nothing really.

Clever or misleading?

The reader (and me)

A previous comment on one of the Freshword blogs (on punctuation and bullets) suggested that some things are not critical since ‘…it all washes over the reader’. I was struck by this comment because of how important this is.

Readers as experts

We might not be great writers, but we are great readers. That is, we notice everything – every last missing full stop, every misplaced comma, every repeated word, every failure to completely make sense; we notice everything. And we are not tolerant and easy-going as readers. We are demanding, impatient and highly reactive. We might indulge the first typo, flinch at the second, be indignant at the third and frustrated by the fourth; our mistakes steadily devalue the credibility and authority of the writer.  This means that as writers, our presentation, word choices, and punctuation have to be spot on in order for our readers ‘not to notice’ our writing. That is why we agonise over correct usage and convention.

Control them – or they’ll control you

To communicate effectively (that is, the reader understands what we want to say, first time) we cannot put a step wrong. If we do that we give up the one thing that makes us effective as writers – control. The reader can find lots of excuses for not reading; it is not the writer’s job to provide them. By wielding words well we control and manipulate the reader, making the reading experience as easy and trouble-free as possible. If your writing starts to wash over readers, then you have lost them and failed as a writer. It’s as simple as that.

Conjunctionitis

‘And now for something completely different.’

Thank you, Monty Python, for the gift of this sentence, perfectly illustrating how we can start a sentence with a conjunction. For many this is an affront as it breaks a treasured rule of grammar: never start sentences with an ‘and’.

However, the only thing we cannot start a sentence with is a numeral. Yet we do this far more often.  ’2011 saw the beginning of a new phase in our organisation’s development.’  Years cannot ‘see’ (not having eyes). It is better to avoid this by using such expressions as ‘January of 2011 marked the start of…’  This is also more precise since a year is twelve months.  We can write ‘Ten years later…’, but not ’10 years later…’

I recently checked the Times Educational Supplement for the prevalence of sentences and paragraphs starting with a conjunction, and found that nearly ten per cent began in this way. And these are established and respected journals. It is so common that it is unremarkable. We do not notice these conjunctions because they work in context and, as ever, good writing is transparent. And so we dispense with another myth.

The shadow of uncertainty

Listening to David Cameron address the UN reminds me that political and business language gets perilously close to poetry at times. An odd idea? Consider what he says when talking of the present dangers to the economy, urging us to avoid ‘…lengthening the shadows of uncertainty’. Is ‘uncertainty’, an abstract-noun, capable of having a shadow?  We use the words to create an image, a kind of metaphor, and evoke a reaction, or a sense of something threatening.

And how long would that shadow be? It has to have a length in order to be lengthened. Is such a shadow a bad thing? In what way? Lots of unanswered questions.

The poetry of business-speak

In business, we are very fond of this kind of statement. Similar examples include ‘a climate of uncertainty’. Or do we mean a ‘period’ of uncertainty? Can a climate possess human qualities or emotions? This anthropomorphism is also a poetic device.

Functional language

In business, we do not intentionally write poetry: we value prose that is functional and easily understood. Metaphor is fine, but the more complex, less logical language of poetry is designed to operate in a different timescale, developing atmosphere for a purpose other than just to inform.  Mangling figures of speech can ‘cast a shadow’. Use with great care, if at all.

Degrees of extravagant exaggeration

‘Absolutely. That’s why I did it.’ Possibly heard on the radio or in everyday conversation. Sounds fine. But what about the word ‘absolutely’? Is this just an emphatic ‘yes’. Strangely, simply saying ‘yes’ is probably more effective; the word ‘absolutely’, which means something very different, is a distraction, often sounding insincere (the opposite of its intention).

Hyperbole and comparatives
In our writing we are encouraged to keep statements as simple and as accurate as possible. This is because directness is more effective. But in many instances we feel this is not enough; we mix in hyperbole and comparatives. We see this in marketing material: ‘This incredibly effective solution can deliver real solutions.’ Lots to comment on here, but why jump to the extreme? ‘This effective solution’ is probably enough; or ‘this very effective solution’; or even ‘this most effective solution’ (starting to sound pompous); then we have ‘extremely effective’, and then, perhaps, ‘incredibly effective’. It is so effective we cannot believe it? This is typical of a type of emphasis word that marks our text as over-written and over-stated, making it weaker. As for ‘real solution’ (as against ‘unreal solution’) that is for another time.

Overstate and undermine
By overstating we undermine.  Many of these words and phrases are fine in conversation but we must be (very) sure of their relevance before using them in written text. Literally.

The apostrophe – we really can’t do without it

Recently I read about a campaign dedicated to doing away with the apostrophe. I paused at the thought and whilst understanding the sentiment (though not sharing it) I concluded that the confusion over its use is exaggerated.

Most of us feel comfortable using the possessive in our writing: we use it as a substitute for ‘of’. Simple enough. But there are uses that sometimes throw us. As usual, it is not so much a matter of what is correct as what choice we make. And I am not thinking of ‘it’s’ and ‘its’ here.

Choices

For example, I worked on a booklet originally entitled ‘home buyer guide’. Is this statement enough to make the intention of the article clear? Consider the choices listed for a guide targeted at those buying a home:

• home buyer guide
• home-buyer guide
• home buyer’s guide
• home-buyer’s guide
• home-buyers’ guide.

As it stands, the original title is at best ambiguous, and at worst, completely misleading. ‘Home buyer guide’ could mean a guide for the home buyer (to something not stated), or a guide to buying a home (specifically). Which is it? When we add the hyphen (home-buyer) it settles the matter. Or does it? Could it now mean a guide to understanding home buyers? So we need to take this further to ensure this is a guide for someone buying a home.

Clarifying meaning

Does the apostrophe or a hyphen clarify what I mean? Do I need both? Since there is a missing article (‘the’) is this really an implied plural: a guide for many or all home buyers?

The ‘for’ apostrophe

Enter the apostrophe to help us: ‘home-buyer’s guide’. That’s better. But, unravelled, the possessive does not replace ‘of’, but ‘for’: a guide for a home buyer, as in ‘Parents’ guide to local schools’, or ‘A guide for parents to local schools’.

Numbers

Is it for one home buyer, or many? The position of the apostrophe will tell us. I suspect the booklet is aimed at all potential home buyers, and so I would write ‘home-buyers’ guide’.

A necessity

Is that enough? Probably. I might add ‘the’, to round out the sense of it being definitive (‘a’ places it as one of many guides). The result, ‘The home-buyers’ guide’, might be the best choice. Whatever I choose, the apostrophe helps clarify my meaning. Without it we would all be kept guessing. I suspect we really cannot do without it.