Introduction
Have you ever found yourself cringing when someone says "irregardless" or pronounces "nuclear" as "nucular"? If so, you're not alone. Many of us have an inner "grammando" – that persnickety voice that constantly corrects other people's linguistic mistakes. At the same time, we might also have an inner "wordie" – someone who's fascinated and delighted by language and its evolution.
In her book "Says Who?", Anne Curzan explores the middle ground between these two extremes. She delves into the historical contexts and social forces that shape language usage, empowering readers to make informed linguistic choices instead of blindly following prescriptive rules. This summary will take you through the key ideas presented in Curzan's book, helping you develop a more nuanced approach to evaluating speech and writing.
The Myth of Absolute Rules
Are the rules really the rules?
One of the first myths Curzan tackles is the idea that language rules are absolute and unchanging. She uses the example of the word "impact" to illustrate this point.
Many grammarians and usage guides claim that using "impact" as a verb is a nonsensical and unacceptable new usage. A newspaper editor once insisted to Curzan that "only teeth can be impacted." However, this argument is based on a false premise.
In reality, "impact" has been a verb in English longer than it's been a noun. In the early seventeenth century, it meant "to press closely into something." The noun "impact" only arose in the late eighteenth century to refer to the collision of two bodies. Within a few decades, it began to be used figuratively to talk about effects or influences.
Grammandos caught on to the growing figurative use and decided to clamp down on it. Even today, some prestigious organizations maintain that "impact" can't be used in the figurative sense. For example, in 2001, 81 percent of the Usage Panel of the American Heritage Dictionary voted that the use of the verb "impact" to mean "to have an effect" is unacceptable.
However, there are signs that these usage organizations are loosening up. By 2015, only 50 percent of the American Heritage Dictionary Usage Panel disapproved of this use of "impact".
So, is "impact" as a verb okay or not? The answer, according to Curzan, is that it depends on the context. While it might be best to avoid the figurative use of "impact" in formal writing, it's perfectly acceptable in most other situations.
This example highlights a crucial point: the judgments of usage panels and language authorities are far from objective. They're invariably influenced by the particular linguistic sensibilities and ideological leanings of their members. In other words, their votes don't make any usage universally right or wrong.
The Power of Words
"Political correctness" versus inclusive language
Another area where language rules intersect with social dynamics is in the realm of "politically correct" or inclusive language. Curzan argues that debates about inclusive and sensitive language are ultimately about who has the power to call the shots.
Critics often cherry-pick extreme examples of "politically correct" language (like using "vertically challenged" instead of "short") to dismiss the entire concept as silly or equate it with censorship. However, Curzan points out that these critics are missing the bigger picture.
What's really at stake in discussions of "pc" language are questions surrounding the benefits and drawbacks of using inclusive language. Do attempts to promote respectful, inclusive terminology inappropriately limit free speech, as some claim? Or do they give voice to marginalized groups and help everyone feel respected?
Curzan argues that our word choices and the linguistic rules we follow always reflect and reinforce power dynamics, whether we intend them to or not. This is evident in the way certain words and usages have been stigmatized due to their association with marginalized dialects and social classes.
Take the word "ain't", for instance. The stigma against this word largely exists because "ain't" is used by many speakers of African American English and southern varieties of American English. But it's not inherently any more illogical or "uneducated-sounding" than other contractions. So, when marginalized groups demand more inclusive terminology, it's not about being "overly sensitive". It's about challenging the status quo and insisting on greater representation.
Of course, not all attempts to promote inclusive language are perfect. Curzan uses the term "Latinx" as an example. This term originated in academia, but studies actually show that most members of Latina and Latino communities don't prefer it, and many would opt for "Latine" over "Latinx". In cases like this, Curzan suggests that the best approach is simply to ask what term a person or group prefers.
Overall, Curzan argues that the project of building a more inclusive linguistic landscape is a worthy one, and we shouldn't dismiss it based on a few outlier examples. Instead, we should embrace language change with empathy and nuance as both readers and writers.
The Evolution of Words
Fun, funner, funnest
To further illustrate how language evolves over time, Curzan delves into the fascinating case of the word "fun" and its comparative forms.
Believe it or not, there are people who think "fun" shouldn't even be used as an adjective – that it should only be a noun, as in "I'm having fun". This argument stems from the fact that for the first hundred years or so of its history, "fun" was only a noun and a verb, not an adjective. "Fun" only took on adjectival duties in the mid-twentieth century, and now we can say things like, "That was a really fun party."
While most people today accept "fun" as an adjective, the comparative forms "funner" and "funnest" still raise eyebrows. This is because of "fun"'s relatively new status as an adjective. When we use "fun" as a noun, we say that we're having "more fun" and "the most fun". We're just more used to these forms, so "funner" and "funnest" sound weird to many ears. However, Curzan suggests that it's likely this will soon change, and "funner" and "funnest" will become the standard forms.
Curzan also discusses another interesting comparative: "more unique." Traditionally, grammarians have argued that something that's unique – meaning one-of-a-kind – shouldn't be able to have degrees of comparison. How can something be "more" one-of-a-kind? But, as with "fun", the meaning of "unique" has shifted over time. It's taken on a looser sense of "uncommon" or "remarkable," in addition to its original meaning. This has allowed for the use of comparative and superlative forms like "more unique" and "most unique".
While Curzan advises that it may be best to avoid phrases like "quite unique" in formal writing, she encourages readers not to outright dismiss these evolving usages. After all, language is always changing. She points out that the word "nice" used to mean "silly," and "lollygag" meant "kissing" – and no one has a problem with the new meanings. These changes merely represent the flexibility and adaptability of the language.
Grammar in Flux
Whom did you tell the secret to?
Another area where language is evolving is in the use of "who" versus "whom". Curzan, as an English professor, finds herself in a conundrum when it comes to using these words in her emails. On the one hand, "whom" sounds overly formal and stuffy. But "who" often gets people in a fuss because it makes them think she doesn't know proper grammar!
The traditional grammatical rule is that "who" should be used as the subject of a sentence, while "whom" should be used as the object. So, you'd say, "Who invited you to the party?" because "who" is the subject. Conversely, you would ask, "Whom did you tell the secret to?" because "you" is the subject and "whom" is the object.
However, in modern English, this distinction is starting to break down. "Whom" often just doesn't seem colloquial enough. "Who did you tell?" sounds more like what we would actually say, even though "Whom did you tell?" is "officially" correct.
Curzan explains that another issue with "whom" is that modern English is highly dependent on word order to tell us what the subject and object of a sentence are. In questions, the question word – who, why, how, and so on – always comes at the beginning. So "Whom did you tell?" makes "whom" look like the subject, even though it's the object. Our brains get tripped up by this.
Given this, Curzan finds it amazing that "whom" has managed to cling on as long as it has. There's evidence of confusion about the who-versus-whom question going back to at least the fifteenth century! But "whom"'s days are likely numbered, as more and more people default to using "who" in all contexts.
If you're still a bit of a grammando about this, Curzan says it's okay – just know when to pick your battles. In an email, you'll probably want to stick with "who" to avoid sounding overly fussy – or, worse, out of touch.
The Great Punctuation Debate
"This book is dedicated to my parents, Ayn Rand and God"
One of the most heated debates in the world of grammar and punctuation revolves around the Oxford comma. This is the comma that comes before the "and" in a list, as in "eggs, milk, and cheese". The Oxford comma can clarify ambiguous lists, such as in the famous example: "This book is dedicated to my parents, Ayn Rand and God." Without the Oxford comma, it seems like the speaker's parents are... well, Ayn Rand and God.
But Curzan points out that these kinds of examples are fairly infrequent, and research shows that Americans are heavily divided over whether to use the Oxford comma. Many copy editors would tell you it's not so important which choice you make – what matters is that you're consistent. But Curzan asks a provocative question: is consistency really that important?
To answer this question, Curzan takes readers on a historical detour to explore the history of punctuation more generally. From Roman antiquity through the medieval era, manuscripts often lacked punctuation altogether. When punctuation was added, it served more as a guide for reading aloud. The arrival of the printing press in fifteenth-century England led to greater standardization of written English, including punctuation. It took centuries to really settle down, but, by the eighteenth century, prescriptive grammarians had begun to codify stricter guidelines for punctuation usage.
Given the arbitrariness of these "rules", Curzan poses a radical question: What if we just used the Oxford comma when it was useful and skipped it when it wasn't? Or, going even further, what if we did that with all commas? Perhaps "incorrect" punctuation could help us place emphasis differently or improve the flow of a piece of writing?
Ultimately, Curzan reminds us that writing conventions are never absolute truths; they're decisions made by a community of editors and language authorities. As English evolves, perhaps we can all be a little more playful with punctuation.
The Art of Flowing Writing
When writing flows
Writing that "flows" is often touted as a hallmark of good prose. But what does it actually mean for writing to "flow" – or, conversely, to be "choppy"? And how do you make it not choppy?
Curzan explains that, in general, a choppy piece of writing is one where the connections between sentences aren't clear. It's when readers' expectations about where the writing is headed are not being met, which makes for a jarring reading experience.
To get to the root of this issue, Curzan introduces the concept of the known-new contract. This term describes the implicit expectation that sentences will begin with familiar information and progress logically to new ideas. By understanding and adhering to this principle, writers can guide readers intuitively from one point to the next.
Curzan provides an example of a "choppy" piece of writing, which she adapted from an Atlantic article:
"A new study – conducted by Mueller and Oppenheimer – finds that people remember lectures better when they've taken handwritten notes, rather than typed ones. Adolescents these days suffer from short attention spans. The educational system must respond to new technologies. Perhaps it is time to bring back the pencil."
This passage jumps around a lot. Every sentence is about a new topic, disconnected from the preceding ones. We don't return to the first topic – handwritten notes – until the fourth sentence. Readers are being asked to do a lot of work to figure out how all of these topics are connected.
Curzan then contrasts this with the original, non-choppy version:
"A new study—conducted by Mueller and Oppenheimer—finds that people remember lectures better when they've taken handwritten notes, rather than typed ones. What's more, knowing how and why typed notes can be bad doesn't seem to improve their quality. Even if you warn laptop-notetakers ahead of time, it doesn't make a difference."
This version is much better. The second sentence takes off where the first one left off, on the topic of typed notes, and the third sentence remains on this topic.
Curzan's advice is simple: remember that complex thought doesn't require complex expression. By obeying simple rules, like the known-new contract, we can shape our sentences in readable, accessible ways while still preserving depth of thought.
Breaking the Rules
And so we began with conjunctions
Many of us grow up learning the "rule" that you shouldn't start sentences with words like "and" or "but". But Curzan reveals that this is far from a hard-and-fast rule. In fact, all the way back in the 1920s, notorious grammarian H. W. Fowler called the idea that you can't start a sentence with "and" a "faintly lingering superstition".
Curzan traces the origins of this supposed "rule" back to English teachers trying to encourage kids to write in a more formal, less colloquial style. They wanted to steer them away from stringing together too many short, simple sentences using "and", which would be their natural tendency when speaking.
Interestingly, Curzan points out that the preference for more formal sentence structures is a relatively recent development in the English language. In Old English, written text often mirrored the grammar of speech, with fewer restrictions on how to begin sentences.
Today, programs like Microsoft Word insist on flagging sentences starting with "and" and "but" as errors. However, the reality is that it's quite common to find these sentences in both formal and informal writing. You can see it all over academic writing, in literature, and even in the Bible. Curzan argues that a diversity of sentence structures – including those starting with "and" or "but" – can make writing more engaging and effective.
Curzan also discusses another controversial sentence opener – the word "so". In spoken language, "so" can function as a discourse marker – a word or phrase that carries interpersonal meaning rather than literal meaning. Discourse markers might signal a speaker's intent or manage the flow of conversation. For example, "so" could indicate the speaker's eagerness to share information, as in: "So, as I was driving to work this morning …"
Curzan's message is clear: think twice before getting haughty if you hear someone starting a sentence with "so", "and", or "but". As we've seen time and time again, effective speakers and writers know how to strategically break the "rules" to achieve their desired tone and flow.
The Bigger Picture
Throughout "Says Who?", Anne Curzan consistently challenges readers to think critically about language rules and usage conventions. She demonstrates that many of these "rules" are not as firmly established or objectively justified as some experts would claim.
From the evolving use of words like "impact" and "funner" to debates over "politically correct" language, Curzan shows that language is deeply intertwined with social dynamics and power structures. She encourages readers to consider the historical and cultural contexts that shape our linguistic choices, rather than blindly adhering to prescriptive rules.
Curzan's approach to language is both scholarly and practical. She draws on linguistic research and historical examples to support her arguments, but she also offers practical advice for navigating real-world language situations. Whether it's deciding whether to use "whom" in an email or considering how to make writing flow more smoothly, Curzan provides readers with tools to make informed choices.
One of the key takeaways from the book is the importance of context in language use. Curzan repeatedly emphasizes that what's appropriate in one context may not be in another. This nuanced approach allows for greater flexibility and creativity in language use, while still acknowledging the value of certain conventions in specific situations.
Another important theme is the ongoing evolution of language. Curzan shows how words and usage patterns change over time, often in ways that defy the efforts of prescriptive grammarians to control them. This perspective encourages readers to be more open-minded about language change, rather than reflexively resisting it.
Curzan also highlights the role of power dynamics in shaping language norms. She shows how certain usages become stigmatized not because they're inherently incorrect, but because they're associated with marginalized groups. This insight encourages readers to think critically about the social and political implications of their language choices.
Throughout the book, Curzan strikes a balance between respecting linguistic traditions and embracing change. She doesn't advocate for throwing out all rules and conventions, but rather for understanding their origins and limitations, and being willing to bend or break them when it serves a purpose.
Conclusion
"Says Who?" offers a refreshing and nuanced perspective on language rules and usage. Anne Curzan challenges readers to move beyond simplistic notions of "correct" and "incorrect" language, and instead to develop a more sophisticated understanding of how language works and evolves.
By exploring topics ranging from the Oxford comma to the use of inclusive language, Curzan demonstrates that many of our cherished language rules are less absolute than we might think. She encourages readers to consider the historical, social, and cultural factors that shape language use, and to make informed choices based on context and purpose rather than rigid rules.
Ultimately, Curzan's book is a call for linguistic flexibility and creativity. She argues that by understanding the complexities of language, we can become more effective communicators and more empathetic listeners. Whether you're a devoted grammando or a free-spirited wordie, "Says Who?" offers valuable insights that will change the way you think about language.
As we navigate the ever-changing landscape of English usage, Curzan's work reminds us that language is a living, evolving entity. By embracing this reality, we can engage with language in a more thoughtful and nuanced way, appreciating its complexities and using it more effectively to express our ideas and connect with others.
In the end, "Says Who?" empowers readers to take ownership of their language choices. It encourages us to question arbitrary rules, to consider the impact of our words, and to use language in ways that are clear, effective, and respectful. Whether you're writing an academic paper, crafting a business email, or engaging in casual conversation, the insights from this book will help you navigate the rich and complex world of English with greater confidence and skill.