On the cover of this reissue, the name Robert Graves appears in a much larger type size than that of co-author Alan Hodge. This is not just for the sake of marketing. The voice throughout this book is unmistakably that of Graves. Yet it was not false modesty on Graves’s part to credit Hodge as co-author (indeed, I’m not aware of Graves ever being accused of modesty, false or true). Hodge was twenty years younger than Graves, the two had recently collaborated on a social history of Britain after World War I, The Long Week-End, and Graves viewed him as a partner in this enterprise of expressing principles of good English prose and illustrating them with examples of the failure to respect them.
Graves and Hodge list twenty-five principles of clear statement and sixteen principles of graceful prose. According to the authors, they arrived at these by reading, at their normal pace, whatever came to hand. That included many of the leading literary figures of the time (Shaw, Pound, Eliot), government press releases, newspaper columns, and local church bulletins. Whenever they encountered difficulty in understanding, they sought to identify the reason for it. The second half of the book is devoted to excerpts from their reading. Numbers (for principles of clear statement) and letters (for those of graceful prose) set in superscript flag the violations. The reasoning used in citing these violations follows, listed under these numbers and letters. Thirdly, the authors present a “fair copy,” that is, their rewrite of how the author could have better expressed him or herself. Finally, a comment, in many cases exculpating the author, who perhaps had to write quickly and didn’t have the chance to edit what he or she wrote. At other times, they surmise, the writer’s official position forbade them saying what they really meant, which resulted in a muddle.
In general, they stress that not even the most careful of authors is free of committing these faults. Their inclusion of a passage of their own is proof of this.
Their attempts at fairness didn’t go so far as to prevent the comments from causing me to laugh out loud at times. One example, about J. Middleton Murry: “Mr. Murry has often apologized to his readers for the confusion of his thought, but ascribed it to the difficulty of conveying novel and important intuitions of spiritual truth. The confusion is due rather to the mystical ecstasy which overtakes him and blunts his critical sense of what he is writing.”
In many cases, these examples of faulty writing are found in texts that address the non-specialist reader. Many of the authors represented are known as poets or novelists. Mostly, the excerpts here are not from their novels, but from works of criticism or commentary on current affairs. There is one exception: the dissection of a passage of Hemingway’s Farewell to Arms is savagely memorable.
If you can’t find a used copy of the original edition of The Reader Over Your Shoulder, which appeared in 1943, then this, from 2017, is the edition to get, for it restores portions cut from the book in the reprintings in between (this has 615 pages, rather than the 290 erroneously given in the book description). Regrettably, this edition is marred by typos. I suspect they crept in when the book was reset for publication, but the only way of knowing for sure would be to compare side by side with the original. Especially irritating are the errors in the intricate system of cross-references between text excerpts and the principles cited.
The book includes an overview of the history of English prose. Some readers may be put off by the manner of presentation, which seems like a series of ex-cathedra pronouncements, but these are based on close-reading of the authors discussed and are worth savoring. For instance: “Anglo-Saxon was the language of the belly; Norman-French, that of the heart — the Normans had learned to have hearts since they had settled in France; Latin, that of the brain. English, as Chaucer used it, was a reconciliation of the functions of all these organs. But in Chaucer’s as in all the best English prose, the belly rules: English is a practical language.” Graves has his favorite periods, for instance, the “classical prose” of Dryden and Defoe, but his love of English as a living language keeps him from seeking to freeze the language in any period and display it in a museum. For that reason, it is beside the point to complain that one wouldn’t take Graves and Hodge either a model of writing style now, eighty years later. Style changes, but the principles endure. That seems to be the point of this book.