A whole book on punctuation. Three hundred and fifty pages! If that's not your thing, please do not read any further. Do not pause, period. I do not want to give you a pain in your colon: semi or otherwise; and I don't want to hear the exclamations of the annoyed; the question marks of the irritated, and the bold capitalisations of the momentarily angry social media user. Avert your eyes, go no further, do not punctuate your flow of vexation (fretfulness) with a brief stop. But if not...
I found this book in an opportunity shop, thrift or charity shop to my northern friends. It was a brand-new copy, unread. And it came at just the right time. A had given a copy of my manuscript to someone to read, and upon return was told in an exasperated tone that I really should deal with my punctuation! The matter was even punctuated with exasperated exclamations in the notes. Now, I knew I was being a little flamboyant with my sentences in the manuscript; indulging in long exuberant multi-clause sentences requiring semi-colons, commas and colons to break up dense thoughts in prose. I didn’t think I was that bad, really. And on one point – the sequential comma – Oxford comma to some – I was told I had missed the point. That was the first chapter I read on the train home in my new-old copy of this book about a thorny old issue. To add a comma before the ‘and’ that concludes a list. That is the debate. To add that little period, or not to add that little period. Well, I had been trained by modern style manuals. A comma before the and was an archaism I had been told. And yet, David Crystal says this is not exactly the case since modern – twentieth century – printing started the trend against little extras that required typeface that required more type-setting, that required more page space, and less clutter. Now I’ve just illustrated Mr Crystal’s point. I’ve added a comma before my ‘and’ at the end of my list. Why? Because there is a semantic difference between the last item on the list and the previous. Mr Crystal argues that a simple sentence such as a list of colours does not require the sequential comma, but if you are writing something a little more complex, where the meaning of the last item is quite different to the previous ones, then give the reader a warning with a little pause thus making them think a little more about the point you are making. Which I think I will do from now on. Add meaning for the reader with a little period. They deserve a rest now and then. Especially with dense prose.
OK, so this is a book on punctuation. A guide even. So I’d better not slip an errant comma where a colon should be, or let a sentence run wild without pauses. A period is an old word for punctuation, it defines the time the reader should consider pausing during a sentence, or at the end. My word processing software always wants me to add a comma after I use the word ‘so’. But I refuse most of the time until my document is lit up with tiny light blue auto-generated underlinings. I call these the ‘blue-ring-octopus’ infestation on MY page, toxic little organisms that seem to glow bright enough to burn themselves into my brain. And they sting like their namesake. I don’t want my sentences to start with a pause after one tiny little two-letter word: ‘so’. But why so – I know it has something to do with my heavy use of ‘so’. But so what! But I will refuse and suffer the regular little barbs of blue all over my page except where I intervened with an ‘em’ dash earlier. I learned here that an ‘em’ dash is a printer’s measure – of the space made by a single letter for ‘m’. And an ‘en’ dash is a little shorter - thus. During the 18thC dashes were very popular. The dashing heroes of English prose, perhaps. Less so now and very literary, the ‘em’ dash was James Joyce’s preferred introduction of dialogue.
David Crystal makes it clear that punctuation exists to support meaning. And he makes that clear by writing in lively and engaging prose. His prose is often better than much fiction I encounter.
There are many amusing stories about the evolution of different punctuations. The one I like tells how one fellow wanting to quantify the length of each period – comma, colon, full stop, semi colon, ended up using something akin to musical notes to define length. The problem is that punctuation should not be like the division of a breves, semi-breves, minims, crotchets and quavers. Because by the time you start at a half beat of a comma, a whole beat of a semi-colon, a doubling of that for a colon and another doubling for a full stop, then you probably spend more time pausing than reading. The word period in British English means a full stop, but I’ve use it here as a generic meaning here to refer to a length of time; since I use the term ‘full stop’.
Once upon a time a sensible Elizabethan printer named Denham started using a new punctuation – an inverted question mark to denote a rhetorical question – known as a percontation. Now that is sensible, isn’t it⸮ I suspect it didn’t take off because no one could grasp the clumsy sounding word percontation. I have spent a whole week trying to remember it and wrote this review in the hope that my head retains it. The percontation is also known as an ‘irony mark’, i.e., it denotes irony. But I suspect that this is unnecessary, since irony must surely be subtle or not used at all, and certainly should not demand its own punctuation. But a rhetorical question is just that, a question that answers itself. It might be ironic that it does, since it points to an ironic use of the questioning mode. But that is not clear enough. As Crystal makes clear, when a writer writes a question in dialogue, for instance, it should be clear that it is a question by the phrasing and not even require punctuation at all, let alone an innovative percontation. I prefer to leave a rhetorical question unpunctuated. It is unnecessary. A rhetorical question is most often used with a conversational voicing, if not actual dialogue by an author.
I’m planning to read David Crystal’s book on English grammar since my schooling began as earnest grammar teaching declined and I often feel I need a refresher. After that, a whole book on the madness of English spelling!