Among writers of English, there is a strong interest in their own language, and a long tradition of manuals by writers who suggest how to use English without error. Ambrose Bierce wrote such a manual, and writers constantly refer (but not necessarily defer) to Fowler, and many can quote Strunk and White from memory. For some reason, contemporary writers on the subject of English are called "language mavens", and they are of two camps, the prescriptivists who would like to tell you how to say something properly according to the rules, and the descriptivists who document how the language is being (rather than should be) used. As usual, there are extremists at both ends of the spectrum, and it would be wise to stick to the middle. That does not mean staying bland. In _When You Catch an Adjective, Kill It: The Parts of Speech, for Better and/or Worse_ (Basic Books), Ben Yagoda is happy to enjoy creative use of English that breaks rules. We would all be poorer without, for instance, Fats Waller's "One never knows, do one?" But he is also happy to emphasize (and, one assumes since he is an English teacher, enforce) the rules that work to promote clarity and understanding. His book isn't really a rulebook, but a survey in nine chapters of nine parts of speech, each a useful essay on usage.
"Ultimately, the issue of correctness just isn't very interesting," Yagoda writes. What is interesting are "words, phrases, and sentences that transcend their meaning - because they're smart, funny, well-crafted, pungent, unexpected, or sometimes wrong in just the right way." There are lots and lots of examples of such lively, perhaps grammatically questionable, usage in all the chapters here. The title of the book, about killing adjectives, is advice generally attributed to Mark Twain, who knew that using the right noun would preclude unnecessary adjectives. But adverbs get even less respect. Elmore Leonard wrote, "I have a character in one of my books tell how she used to write historical romances 'full of rape and adverbs.'" Stephen King wrote, "I believe the road to hell is paved with adverbs." Yagoda says that two adverbs need special mention, and in so doing, demonstrates the subjective nature of judging usage. He doesn't like "arguably" as in, "He is arguably the best quarterback in the NFL", because it probably doesn't mean that anyone has taken this stance in an argument, but that the writer is withholding an opinion and standing behind a bogus adverb. But it is a surprise that he likes "like", as in "It's a complete obstruction of, like, freedom" because it makes the speaker seem less pompous (to be sure, this was a spoken, not a written example).
Yagoda dishes out such likes and dislikes in every chapter, with some being idiosyncratic and some conventional but for idiosyncratic reasons. For instance, in a section on sentence adverbs (one adverb to modify a whole sentence, as in "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn"), he says that the most abused and annoying sentence adverb is "actually" which is overused as in "Actually, he's in a meeting", indicating that not only is he in a meeting, but I am actually telling you the truth when he is in a meeting. (It's fun to play the select-the-most-annoying game, and for worst-used adverb, I would have voted for "literally", as in, "She was literally walking on air.") He doesn't like "hopefully" except as meaning "done in a hopeful manner", as in, "He opened the treasure chest hopefully", but thinks it fills a need, as in "The package will arrive tomorrow, hopefully" since "... arrive tomorrow, I hope" sounds Pollyanna-ish. He would not accept, however, such a formation in a written essay. He shows to be foolish one of the prescriptivists' darling rules, that of never ending a sentence in a preposition. The original rule came from Latin usage, not English. While it is true that sentences as a rule should end strongly, forcing a preposition to the interior can weaken it, as in "We are such stuff on which dreams are made", or can render it stupid, as in repairing "I'm turning in," by "Turning in I am," which, Yagoda says, not even Yoda could spout with a straight face. There is plenty of good sense here, and fun in every chapter (yes, in a book about grammar), as well as entertaining sidelights on such things as the origin of the ampersand symbol and the inventor of the @ for e-mail addresses. There is also a lot of good advice quoted from great writers. Yagoda's book won't replace any style manuals, but his tone of tolerance for eccentricity and enthusiasm for colorful usage is welcome, and his own writing is clever and funny.
