Why We Need Copy Editors

An answer in a manuscript will, so it says here, explain "...why giant people carrying ships were needed to take immigrants and cargo back and forth across the Atlantic's ocean highway..."

No mention whether the author will reveal what happened to those giant people who carried those ships. That's what I really want to know.

Typo Alert

The Grammopticon has started posting typos she finds in print books on Twitter, using the tag #typo, and encourages you to do the same. This is not to shame any publisher, by any means: publishing houses are full of people (not in top management, necessarily, but that's another post) who care very much about perfection and want to know about missed errors so they can try to fix them in future editions and future printings. I recommend you include the book's title, ISBN (to distinguish between editions), publisher, and the specific error and location (e.g., page 22, third paragraph). That's the information I want for the books published by my employer.

Everyone makes mistakes, and everyone misses mistakes, especially when working fast and seeing the same set of pages for a title repeatedly. That's not an excuse, however, for shabby, error-ridden books. As a reader, if I see that the publisher doesn't care enough to correct numerous typos, I have to wonder whether that publisher cares enough to deliver good quality in any other respect. Or are they just hoping that an appealing title and an attractive cover will be enough to catch my eye, and they can just grab my money and run before I discover that what's inside is shoddy and careless?

If the publishing industry thinks in the latter terms, it deserves exactly what it gets.

Most books are made by careful publishing professionals who are just pressed for resources and maybe seeing what they expect to see on the page rather than what's there. Let's help those people out by serving as their backup proofreaders. And if the information helps them point out to their corporate masters that readers do notice when time and resources don't permit doing a thorough job, well, so much the better.

Cause and Effect

"Affect is a verb; effect is a noun," you say. That's true. You think you're terribly clever for knowing that, don't you? But it is also true that affect is a noun and effect is a verb. Still so clever?

Affect (verb) means to have an impact on, do something to something. Global warming affects the polar ice.
Effect (verb) means to cause something; the most common expression is to "effect change."
Affect (noun) is most commonly a psychological term, meaning someone's outward emotional appearance. When we read that the serial killer seemed like a nice, normal guy, we're discussing his affect. (Pronunciation note: the noun affect gets emphasis on the first syllable.)
Effect (noun) is the result of a cause. The effect of higher global temperatures is polar ice melting. The effect of the serial killer's deceiving affect was that his victims didn't fear him.

Now you are terribly clever. At least regarding these two words.

Extraneous Verbiage and Other Pomposity

Simple, simple rule for clear writing: If you wouldn't use the word or phrase in conversation, you probably don't need it in writing, either. Two quick examples:

utilize: It means use. Use use. You'll save yourself keystrokes and your reader time. And people will focus on what you're trying to say, rather than thinking you're trying to sound impressive, and wondering if that's because you're trying to hide the fact that you have no idea what you are talking about.

hitherto, heretofore, thenceforth: When was the last time you used these words in conversation? Do you even know what they mean? Unless you are a lawyer or a Shakespearean actor, you don't need them.

This is not to say that we should write exactly as we speak. But why be less clear in writing than we are in conversation? English isn't that difficult: you speak it every day!

How Many Wives Does One Man Need?

The Grammopticon received this query via email:

Dear All-knowing One,
Was just reading a Times article and came across this sentence:
"Just three years earlier, his wife, Mary, said, a scan of his abdomen had been clear."
Am I right that the comma following the phrase “his wife” implies that he has more than one wife?

(Note the salutation: guaranteed to earn my affection and prompt reply. It's not pandering; it's showing respect.) My reply:

No, the commas around “Mary” are correct. If there weren’t commas, that would imply more than one wife. The commas set off the info that could be omitted without losing essential information--”his wife” is a particular person, whether or not you know what her name is. If the author said “his wife Mary,” that implies you need the name—he wants you to know he’s talking about the wife named Mary, not the wife named, say, Susan.

This is a common question and a common mistake, in cases like this one but also in situations involving job titles. Which of these is correct?

Jane Doe, the senator from Utah, led the panel.
The panel was led by Utah senator, Jane Doe.

Here, both sentences are giving us the same information--but, grammatically speaking, the first one is correct and the second one is not. "Huh?" you say? (Inarticulately, I might add.) Let me explain a little concept called apposition.

Apposition, or an appositive, means two nouns or noun phrases placed adjacent to each other, one modifying the other. The term comes from the Latin, I am told, ad positio, meaning "near position." Commas set off the modifying phrase if it is non-restrictive--if the sentence would be equally clear and equally meaningful without that phrase. If you can cross out everything between the commas and still know what you need to know, the commas belong; if the information between the commas is essential to narrow something down, it's the commas that go.

Let's try this test on our examples, first our wise correspondent's example from the Times.

Just three years earlier, his wife, Mary, said, a scan of his abdomen had been clear.

Get rid of everything in red and our sentence still makes perfect sense, and unless the unnamed gentleman is a polygamist, or perhaps has been married more than once--although in this sentence one would probably be explicit about the "former" status of the wife unless it had been clarified in preceding sentences--we don't need to know the wife's first name to be able to identify the precise person who said that the scan had been clear.

Now, let's put our two Senator Doe examples to the test:

Jane Doe, the senator from Utah, led the panel.
The panel was led by Utah senator, Jane Doe.

In the first, just as with the Times example, we don't necessarily have to know Ms. Doe's title or state she represents to identify her as the person who led the panel. The additional information is desirable (which is why it's there--pointless words are just a waste of perfectly good letters, and the Grammopticon abhors waste), but not necessary to narrow down the possible candidates for leader of the panel. The commas belong.

If your education in civics was adequate, you know that Utah, like every U.S. state, has two senators; over the course of history, many more than two people have represented Utah in the Senate. Therefore, eliminating everything in red in the second sentence would not leave enough information to walk up and point to the precise individual who led the panel. We need Jane Doe's name in order to rule out any other person who might be the Utah senator leading the panel. So get rid of the comma.

Of course if other context--preceding text--had already told us that Jane Doe was the only Utah senator present at the panel (e.g., "The group included Senator Jane Doe of Utah, Senator Jill Jones of Illinois, Representative John Smith of Arkansas, and Governor Jim Q. Public of New Hampshire."), we wouldn't need her name here. We would need "the" to make clear that it's the one who's a senator from Utah who's in charge: "The panel was led by the Utah senator." Note: still no comma.

In summary:

apposition = next to each other
commas = additional but not vital information

All of grammar should be so simple.

What Lies Below Is the Truth about "Lay" and "Lie"

I’m not going to take all the misuse lying down: herein I lay down the law about the difference between “lay” and “lie.” Your confusion is about to be laid to rest.

“Lay” is a transitive verb. It requires a direct object. One lays something else—lays an object down, lays blame (perhaps with his or her teachers, for not explaining this adequately), lays waste to things, gets laid (which we will talk about in detail below), and lays the groundwork for better use of language. “Lay” is a verb of action.

“Lie” is intransitive. (We’re discussing the verb of position/location here; “lie” meaning to tell an untruth is also intransitive, but its conjugation differs. That is another subject for another day.) One may lie down, lie with one’s lover (again, more on that later), lie at something’s mercy, lie in wait, or perhaps lie to the east of something else—but one can always lie alone. Although it may encompass an action, the meaning of “lie” is more often one of position—much more passive.

Quick cheat: What follows the verb? If it’s a noun, it’s likely to be the object, in which case “lay” is correct. If it’s an adverb, “lie” is probably correct. This method is far from infallible—sentences take many shapes—but it’s a good place to start (assuming, of course, your education in grammar was not so deficient that you can’t tell a noun from an adverb).

Seems easy, doesn’t it?

Don’t get cocky.

The confusion arises when you conjugate the verbs. Specifically, the past tense of “lie” is “lay.”

Translating into American

Americanizing is editing a manuscript or book that originated somewhere in the English-speaking world other than the United States (most commonly, but not exclusively, the United Kingdom) to localize it for the US reader. The first step is spelling—changing “colour” to “color” and the like. If you think that’s all, or even the bulk, of the task, as many people seem to: well, no. Here's what I wish people (freelancers, I'm looking at you) knew about Americanization.

The precise tasks of Americanization vary with the book and its needs. (I should just get a great big blinking neon sign that says “the needs of the book and the reader” and “quality is what makes it worth paying for,” and that would pretty much cover everything I go on and on about. Not sure, however, it would make a difference.) In some cases, it might be appropriate to retain the British (or whatever) flavor of the text—for example, a novel by an English author and set in England, or a first-person narrative in which the author’s voice makes it personal and appealing. For those books, minimal Americanization—just enough to avoid distraction and clear up potential confusion—is all that’s required. At the opposite extreme might be a how-to book or other nonfiction title in which the object is to convey the information with transparency—that book must be completely clear to the US reader/user to be useful, so a complete overhaul for the US reader may be the order of the day. And there are a lot of books—fiction and nonfiction—in between.