Punctuated Equilibrium
I find this a little bit amusing. Not the whole thing, just one part of it. The whole thing is a discussion of Eve Garrard’s second piece on Amnesty International at Normblog. That’s not particularly amusing, turning as it does on the murder, torture and general pushing-around of millions upon millions of people around the world. No, not an amusing subject. What amused me was just one item at the end of Chris’ post.
Finally — and I’m picking nits now — Eve writes that “the idea that the force of an argument should be materially altered by an (allegedly) misplaced comma is … delightful and charming.” It may be, but my complaint focused not on the force of the argument but on its meaning , and it is pretty commonplace that commas can and do alter the meaning of sentences: Eats, Shoots & Leaves.
Well there you are, you see. It’s not only tiny words (she not he, here not there, on not in) that can alter the meaning of sentences, it’s little marks that don’t even represent a vocalization, that represent at most a pause or a tone of voice (? sounds one way, ! sounds another), but can separate an adjective from a noun or change a noun to a verb or otherwise change the meaning of a sentence.
I’m all the more aware of this because it comes up in proofreading, at least it does when I’m the proofreader. The editors of TPM like to make fun of me for adding a comma at the end of a list. Well, ha ha, very droll, but I have my reasons – because commas do make a difference. The one at the end of a list is optional, it’s true, but I often like to exercise the option and insert it, especially when the list in question is a list of phrases rather than single words. A list like ‘this, this, this, this and this’ is not too bad, but a list like ‘this does that, that does this, those did these and these did those’ can be confusing – it can be unclear whether the last clause is actually two clauses separated by ‘and’ or all one clause with an ‘and’ in the middle. Unless you add a comma before the ‘and’ – which is why I often do just that. So mock mock mock all you like, but it does make a difference. As, of course, Eats, Shoots & Leaves has reminded everyone lately.
But then other times – for instance when I’m writing as opposed to proofreading – I leave commas out with wild abandon. I perpetrate chaotic unpuncutated headlong sentences of a kind that one is taught not to perpetrate when one is twelve or so. Not invariably, but it’s something I have a tendency to do. Some sentences just seem to need to be uttered all in one breath, without punctuation (i.e. without pauses), so I write them that way. Then on reading them I sometimes realize – they will work if readers hear them exactly the way I heard them in my head – but what is the likelihood of that? So sometimes I decide to punctuate them in a more conventional manner. But not always. Yes, that’s nice; and your point is? Nothing – just that even commas, even those little tiny silent marks, are something one can lavish thought on, and that can alter the meaning of sentences. Odd, isn’t it.
I wonder if commas have Theory of Mind.
You can add my vote to the ‘commas at the end of lists’ brigade!
You may if you wish add my name both to the list of those who like commas at the ends of lists and those who like lists that on account of their being similarly comprehensible with or without commas even if this similar level of comprehensibility exists only in the way that a syntax diagram could be unambiguously constructed for the sentence lack them.
Not only do I agree with the comma brigade, I also support the use of semi-colons to separate lists in which even commas can be ambiguous.
Well there you are then! A resounding vote for clarity in list-punctuation. I shall carry on my campaign of comma-insertion with jaw-clenched resolution and utter disdain of mockery.
What luck. I’ve just happened on an example of the kind of thing, in a Guardian review, so I can illustrate.
“Hughes’s presentation of himself as Sylvia Plath’s husband in the context of his own editorial, critical and poetic oeuvre.”
Now…that’s “correct,” it’s permissable, there are no “rules” against it. But it just isn’t ideal. It isn’t clear and it could be clearer, so why not make it clearer. It’s odd that people so readily opt not to. The way it’s written there it looks as if editorial oeuvre is one thing, and critical and poetic oeuvre is another thing. But of course that’s not what’s meant – the list is of three things, not two.
I suppose the thought is that the additional comma looks supererogatory; pedantic, fussy, excess, superfluous, obtrusive. Sort of nagging – “Now, don’t forget to pause after ‘critical’!” Okay, okay, I know, I will.
But all the same. It’s clearer with it than without it. Nag nag nag.
Ah, but what’s your stance on commas after introductory elements? (“In the beginning, there was no chocolate fudge.”) Most US stylesheets require such things, but my UK copyeditors kept putting those cute little “delete” squiggles through them.
Interesting question. I would say that sort of thing is a matter of style rather than clarity – and that therefore it’s a little silly either to require it or to require its deletion. It’s the kind of thing that depends on how you hear it in your head (and hence how you want the readers to hear it) – whether you hear a run-on all-in-one-breath beginning to the sentence, or one with a real pause.
“Ah, but what’s your stance on commas after introductory elements?”
I go for inconsistency, because at least you get to be right half the time that way.
Unless of course you have a whimsically sadistic editor who simply decides you were wrong no matter what you do.