Mary Teaches Grammar

I learnt to read from books about Mary and Bill.

Mary ate an egg.

Bill kicked a ball.

These books were designed to introduce young readers to letters and words. These books could also be used to teach grammar.

Take the first sentence above as an example: ‘Mary ate an egg’. This is known as a simple sentence. It has a subject: Mary; a verb: ate; and an object: an egg. Most simple sentences follow a similar format to this.

‘Mary’ is a proper noun. Proper nouns, as you probably know, are people, places or things. In English we capitalise the first letter of proper nouns.

‘Ate’ is a verb. Verbs tell us what the subject of the sentence (Mary) is doing to the object (an egg). Verbs can also give us a clue as to when this action took place. In other words, verbs can show tense. In the sentence ‘Mary ate an egg,’ the verb ‘ate’ tells us that the Mary/egg encounter occurred some time in the past.

You can learn all this, and a lot more, from the first line of the first page of the first book you ever read. But, if you’re like me, you probably didn’t.

If you are me you are trying to learn the fundamentals of grammar as an adult. You are struggling with this.

The Emperor's New Lingo

A quick Internet search reveals that CommVault Systems Inc. hold the trademark ‘Solving Forward’. I don’t know what this combination of words means.

My mind tries to decipher ‘Solving Forward’ and immediately tells me that the closest term it has encountered in the past is ‘Solvent Sniffing’. I wonder if the good people at CommVault were abusing inhalants when they came up with their new slogan.

‘Solving Forward’ seems to be closely related to another well-loved phrase: going forward. Going forward has been turning perfectly good sentences into tautologies for far too long. “We have the best solution for your business going forward.”

These phrases come from the Emperor’s New Clothes School of Languages. Many may snigger at the use of such phrases; but few of us have been brave enough to step forward and say: “The Manager is speaking gibberish!”

A work friend and I used to laugh at the use of management speech in our company. Then, one day, my friend was elevated to the position of manager. He walked into my office with a glazed look in his eye. He started to talk. Something was different. He told me that he now knew what he would be doing with his career going forward. I started to laugh but had to stop: this was no joke. My friend had become one of them.

Remain vigilant. Band together and rise-up against the tyranny of those who seek to oppress us with their nonsensical slogans.

If we do not act now there may not be a rational future to go forward into.

Pen, Paper, Rock

In some ways pen-and-paper still beats word-processor.

When I write with a pen I am less inclined to go back, less inclined to edit-as-I-go. When I write with a pen I will plough on even if I know that what I’m writing is jumbled. I tend to focus on what I am about to write instead of what I have just written. When I write like this - thinking about what is ahead instead of what is behind - ideas evolve and new ideas present themselves.

You can achieve the same thing with a word-processor, but it takes a bit more effort. You need to resist the urge to go back; resist the urge to edit-as-you-go. Writing is about putting into words what is in your mind. You need to stay with what is in your mind and not allow yourself to become distracted by what is on the screen.

Setting a word target may help you stay on track. Tell yourself that you will write 200 words in 15 minutes or less. You may be used to spending 15 minutes writing your opening sentence. Those 15 minutes could produce the perfect first sentence for an idea that will go nowhere. But, if you use them in the right way, those minutes may produce a couple of hundred words that will take your idea in a new direction.

So let your words lead you; you might be pleasantly surprised by where you end up.

Spoiler Alert

Reading the final pages of a story before you begin to read it may enhance your reading experience. This is the finding of researchers at the University of California.

It turns out that suspense is not everyone’s cup of tea. Some people are only prepared to make a tough journey if they know that everyone will get to the destination in one piece.

I get that.

Recently my wife and I watched a movie about corruption in the US government. The movie had pace, it had dialogue, it had plot. But then, out of the blue, one of the characters travelled to Iraq. The directors got out the Steadicam. They followed that character down a debris strewn street in Baghdad. I was with that character. I was in Baghdad. I wasn’t safe. Someone was going to get hurt. Some innocent person was going to be blown up by an unexpected ordnance. I was nervous. I reached for the movie’s cover. I rechecked the rating. I reread the back cover.

“I think it’s going to be fine,” I told my wife. I didn’t feel fine. “I’m pretty sure no one gets blown up unexpectedly in this movie.”

I wasn’t at all sure.

But I was right: no one was blown up. Had I known that that scene, the edgy guy-walking-down-street-in-Iraq scene, would turn out okay, I would have enjoyed the movie more.

The scene made me realise two things - two things that apply equally to story writing and film making. First, suspense is a strong flavour: a little goes a long way. Second, if you don’t want your reader flicking to the end of your tale, give them a clue that lets them know that things are going to be okay.

If you’re reading this sentence before you read what's written above, let me tell you: it’s going to be okay.

War and Punishment

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

1 Corinthians 13:11

When I was a child I loved books in which the sun shone brightly upon the land and storms, should they come, would pass over quickly. When I was a child I loved books in which justice was dispensed swiftly and good triumphed over evil.

When I was a teenager I read books in which shadows stretched long and dark over the land. When I was a teenager I read books in which the difference between good and evil was hard to discern.

These are the books that serious adults read, I thought.

I wanted to be a serious adult.

I wanted to read about dystopias and political systems gone wrong. I wanted to read about the breakdown of society and the persecution of the Small Man.

I wanted to read books that highlighted the gloomy reality of the world around us, and I didn’t have to look far for such books. Gloomy books, books in which much goes wrong and little goes well, abound amongst the classics.

Now that I am older I wonder if these books paint an accurate picture of the world in which we live.

Some argue that bleak books help us look with fresh eyes upon the glory and splendour of our free world. But do these books really perform that function? Do dystopian novels really work on the human mind in a liberating way, in a way that makes us see that a human life is worth having?

I’m not sure.

So, now that I’m a man, I am questioning the themes of the books of my childhood and the novels of my teens. I am questioning these books and thinking about this quote from novelist E.B. White.

All I hoped to say in my books… is that I love the world.

I wonder why I haven’t read more books that are based on this sentiment. After all, is there anything else to say?

Language Log

If you, like me, day-dreamed your way through High School English, then you’ll probably find the ‘Language Log’ website more than a little intimidating.

I hope you do.

I hope you do, because I don’t want to be alone in not understanding the difference between a fricative and an unvoiced-consonant.

Life is lonely enough.

Life is lonely enough without the realisation that those people who focused during English class – the nerds – have now gathered together. They have formed a ‘Word Nerd’ collective and they are laughing at people like me. They are laughing at me because I thought I knew about language until I visited their website.

Those word nerds were sitting in the dark, trying to stifle a giggle. They flicked on the light and started laughing and pointing as soon as I typed the URL for their website (http://languagelog.ldc.upenn.edu/nll/) into my browser.

I froze like a deer caught in a car’s headlights. I tried to back away slowly, but it was too late: they sensed my weakness, my lack of linguistic knowledge, and they pounced.

Well, they didn’t actually pounce. We’re talking about me visiting a website here. But I was intimidated, and I think they knew it.

They may not have.

Bookends

My father used to read to me before I went to sleep. One night he decided I was ready to progress beyond The Hungry Hungry Caterpillar and The Many Mice of Mr Brice. I was ready for the world of chapters.

I felt ready: I was four-and-a-half, and I was very big.

Dad took a chapter book from the shelf and showed me the cover. I could see straight away that the book was much longer than my previous favourite book.

This will take ages, I thought, I might get to stay awake until morning!

A cousin had told me that if you stayed up long enough, night would turn into morning. I was sceptical but keen to try it.

Dad lay down on the bed beside me. He turned back the colourful book-cover. He turned three of four pages and began to talk. I say talk because I couldn’t believe that anyone, not even my father - who was pretty amazing -, could interpret the jumble of symbols I was looking at.

Once there were four children whose names were-

“What are those,” I interrupted pointing at the closely packed words.

“Those are the words that make up this story, Matthew,” Dad answered.

“What does that one say?” I asked in a disbelieving tone.

“Peter,” Dad replied.

“What about that one?”

“London,” Dad answered.

“What about –“

Dad cut me short.

“How about we just read the story?”

I agreed.

Dad read on. This was a story about a magical world, and while some of the words were a bit big for me, I could feel that world weaving its magic web around me. I was entranced.

Dad read for about ten minutes. Then he started to get tired. He started to yawn and read at the same time; I didn’t like it when he did that. Then he said: “Well, time for sleep. Goodnight.”

“Wait!” I demanded. “Is that the end? Did you read that word?” I pointed at a word.

“We’ve finished the chapter,” Dad answered. “I’ll read you some more tomorrow night.”

I protested. I complained. This just wasn’t fair. There was more story but I had to wait a whole day to hear it? Did Dad know how long a day was?

This was unprecedented!

“Go to sleep now, Matthew,” Dad demanded.

“I hate chapter books,” I informed him.

“No more tomorrow night then?” Dad asked.

I didn’t think that question warranted an answer.

I’m sure I saw Dad grinning to himself as he turned off the bedroom light. He had me hooked and he knew it.