Tossing technical terms around
If you're going to wield technical terminology in a critical way, you
really should know how to use it correctly. Case in point:
William Howarth's critique of Rachel Carson's writing in
Under the Sea Wind, in his article
"Turning the Tide: How Rachel Carson became a woman of letters" (
The American Scholar, Summer 2005,
p. 46). But first, take a look at the passage from Carson, below,
decide what a copy editor might challenge in it, and describe these
problematic stylistic choices using appropriate technical
vocabulary. Then you can compare your account with Howarth's.
As long as the tide ebbed, eels were
leaving the marshes and running out to sea. Thousands passed the
lighthouse that night, on the first lap of a far sea journey--all the
silver eels, in fact, that the marsh contained. And as they
passed through the surf and out to sea, so also they passed from human
sight and almost from human knowledge.
Now here's Howarth's critique:
The flaws that a copy editor might
challenge here--passive gerund ("were leaving ... and running"),
pointless aside ("in fact"), and closing fragment ("And ...")--are less
glaring than the dark tone, as embarkation becomes not hopeful but an
emptying of the marsh womb, with the sea viewed as an alien future.
There are three technical terms (of grammar and usage) here: "passive",
"gerund", and "fragment". The first two are flat wrong.
Expressions like "were leaving" are progressive, not passive, and the -
ing-form verbs like "leaving" in
them are labeled participles in many manuals on English grammar and
usage, but never, so far as I
know,
are they labeled gerunds, a term usually reserved for Poss-
ing ("I'm tired of
their complaining") and Acc-
ing ("I'm tired of
them complaining") constructions,
and possibly action nominals ("
The
dissolving of parliament was a surprise") as well. Howarth
was no doubt misled by the fact that the English passive ("They
were left by their partners") and
progressive ("They
were leaving
their partners") constructions share the auxiliary
be, and by the fact that the things
commonly labeled gerunds and participles are both uses (among a great
many) of the -
ing-forms of
verbs. These are confusions of the sort that students stumble
into when they try to memorize grammatical terminology without
understanding what it's for. But they're inexcusable in a
periodical published by Phi Beta Kappa.
On the stylistic issue -- whether Carson's past progressive ("were
leaving ... and running") should have been edited to a simple past
("left ... and ran") -- I think there's plenty of room for
argument. Carson's choice views the leaving and running out as
extending continuously throughout the ebbing of the tide, and that
seems to me to be a defensible way of framing the description.
Similarly, it's not obvious to me that the aside, "in fact", is
pointless. Carson is telling us that all the eels from the marsh
passed the lighthouse, and that there were a great many of them.
She chose to package these items separately, with the observation about
size leading and the observation about totality in a
parenthetical. (She could have packaged them together -- "All the
thousands of the silver eels that the marsh contained passed the
lighthouse that night..." -- but that would have made for a pretty
topheavy sentence.) What the "in fact" does is indicate a logical
relationship between the two observations: not just a lot of eels, but
the whole crop. Without the "in fact", the sentence is a mere
inventory of observations, only implicitly related, and this is so
whether the parenthetical comes late ("Thousands passed the lighthouse
that night, on the first lap of a far
sea journey--all the silver eels that the marsh contained") or early
("Thousands--all the silver eels that the marsh contained--passed the
lighthouse that night, on the first lap of a far
sea journey"). Somewhat better is: "Thousands of silver eels--all
that the marsh contained--passed the lighthouse that night, on the
first lap of a far sea journey." Even better would have been
leading with totality rather than size: "All the silver eels that the
marsh contained--thousands of them--passed the lighthouse that night,
on the first lap of a far sea journey." Simply deleting the "in
fact", however, doesn't improve Carson's sentence.
But maybe what Howarth is thinking of as the aside is not just the "in
fact", but the whole parenthetical. I hope not, because the
information that every single damn eel in the marsh set off on the
journey has a lot of surprise value.
Now, to the presumed fragment. What we're dealing with here is
the presumed proscription against beginning sentences with conjunctions
that Mark Liberman has discussed
here,
as an instance of a
zombie
rule, with no basis in the practice of competent writers. That is
not, however, the way Howarth frames things; he says we're
talking about fragments. Two questions then: (1) are
fragments bad? and (2) is Carson's last sentence a fragment?
On question (1): a lot depends on who you read. If you look at
advice meant for novice writers, or advice in test prep books, you'll
probably find sentence fragments unconditionally deplored, but if you
look at manuals for college students, you'll probably find a more
nuanced warning: sentence fragments are used by good writers, but you
should be aware that you're choosing them and be sure that you're
getting the effect you want with them.
On question (2): again, opinions differ, but, so far as I can tell,
hardly any college manuals treat sentences beginning with
and,
but, or
so as sentence fragments; a fair
number don't even mention sentence-initial
and,
but, and
so. I hope to take up
sentence-initial conjunctions in a future Language Log posting, but for
the moment it's enough to point out that many authorities wouldn't
treat these as starting sentence fragments, and that in any case
there's no reason to edit out sentence-initial conjunctions in the work
of a writer like Carson, even in her early work for publication.
I don't object at all to the "And" in her last sentence above. It
provides a connection to what went before, without laying too much
emphasis on this connection. It marks the end of a sequence of
(three) events. And it initiates a parallel "and as... so also..."
Howarth seems to have wanted to find Carson's early writing inept -- he
describes it as "semi-autistic prose" and speculates that this sort of
writing might have resulted from a process of heavy revision, involving
both Carson and her mother -- but in his zeal to fault the early Carson
he runs off the rails himself.
By the way, a fair number of advice givers -- the famous Strunk &
White among them -- would deprecate Howarth's conjoining of an AdjP
with a NP in "becomes not
hopeful
but
an emptying of the marsh womb".
Some might find expressions like "marsh womb" and "alien future" to be
too ostentatiously poetic for comfort. And what the hell is
"semi-autistic prose", anyway?
zwicky at-sign csli period stanford period edu
Posted by Arnold Zwicky at August 5, 2005 08:31 PM