Bored of it, tired with it

" . . . . See if you can make your audience duck when something flies out the screen. You can do that once or twice but after that, the audience gets bored of it". Those comments on 3D film are attributed (in The Big Issue) to Sir David Attenborough. I can't believe it. It looks as if some hack writer has felt that Sir David's statements need to be paraphrased into deliberately sloppy English - a form, perhaps, of 'popularisation'.

'Flies out the screen' has perhaps a north American twang that makes 'flies out of the screen' seem pedantic. 'Bored of it' is a not uncommon confusion between 'tired of it' (that's standard idiom) and 'bored with it'.

And the placing of a comma in the second sentence in the Attenborough 'quote' above cannot be right: it should be pushed back to after the word 'twice'.

This is editorial dereliction of duty. Don't tell us that The Big Issue's readers prefer this travesty of Sir David's style. Surely a high proportion of its readers must wince at it. Don't tell me either that any of The Big Issue's readers or contributors would find correct punctuation and standard idiom too difficult to follow, or too boring. All right, many perhaps would not notice the difference, or would just accept the solecisms as unfortunate misprints. But they could so easily have been edited out.*

Incidentally I buy The Big Issue regularly myself. I think it's an excellent idea, and wish it and its friendly vendors every success. But at £2.50 a copy it needs to pull its editorial socks up.

* This not a campaign against lively writing; it's just to say that lively writing can be technically correct. Think of writers like Mark Twain and Bill Bryson.

Bored of it, tired with it

The the hoi polloi

Professional journailists should, I suggest, know the English language well. To put it another way, they should avoid committing solecisms. To put it more simply still, they should not (through ignorance) write incorrectly, even if they want to use idioms of foreign origin.

"The worry is that after the aristocracy has feasted, 'there's little left for the hoi polloi'" So writes a 'city correspondent' in a highly respectable journal - and the editor has not corrected the error.

At least the phrase hoi polloi appears in italics, which is an acknowledgement that the phrase is of foreign origin. But anyone who knows his/her English should also know that this commonly used phrase (of Greek origin, but printed in lower case Roman style rather than Greek) means 'the many'. So to write or print "the 'hoi polloi" (as is not infrequently done) is the equivalent of writing "the the many"; and indicates ignorance on the part of the writer, and should surely attract editorial correction.

"Surely", you may say, "professional writers of English cannot be expected to know Greek". But if they don't know the meaning of a Greek phrase so commonly borrowed into our English language, then perhaps they should not attempt to use it.

The the hoi polloi

Further Economy of Breath and Ink

I can't remember now just what it was that provoked me to write the blog dated 07.02.10 and titled Save breath (or paper and ink) and time, but it may have been this sentence that I came across in an excellent book on William the Conqueror: "For it is by no means easy to ascertain with any precision why it took place."

This might have been put more concisely, perhaps in the form "It is hard to find just why it happened". But of course it could have been even more long-winded: "It is, as the reader may well imagine, no simple matter for the investigator to determine with any degree of accuracy the reason or reasons that such an event ever occurred."

Long-windedness seems often to indicate the writer's (or the speaker's) wish not to seem too shallow. Banality can seem impressive if suitably dressed up. But an intelligent person who knows his or her subject should regard clarity, simplicity and appropriatemess of utterance as badges of honour.

OK, I suppose that might have been more simply put.

Further Economy of Breath and Ink

The singular they, and coming to fruition

It's a pity our language lacks a singular pronoun that can refer equally well to a man or a woman. We end up saying "Whoever has a winning ticket can choose whatever they like from the prizes on the table" - because 'he or she' sounds clumsy - and there might even be someone present who will object "Why not she or he ?"

But when we are talking of persons auditioning for the part of Nancy in the musical 'Oliver', is it not safe to assume that the role will be given to a woman ? So ingrained is the use of the 'singular they' that an unthinking journalist on the staff of Radio Times wrote last year "One of the finalists for the part of Nancy sees their dream end as they are asked to leave the competition."

Here's another RT howler from the same issue: "Rageh Omar continues his investigation into whether fears about the dilution of British culture have come to fruition."

As so often, a journalist who doesn’t know the meaning of English words, but can’t resist what seems a good cliché, puts his metaphorical foot in it. Unless you’re something of a sadist, fears don’t come to fruition: 'fruition' means enjoyment, benefit. The Latin verb 'fruor' means to enjoy. Sweet, juicy apples are the enjoyment you get as a reward for all your hard work cultivating the orchard; so the very word 'fruit' is a metaphor of enjoyment. What may be the cause of the confusion is our almost instinctive use of 'fruit' as a metaphor for the results of something - after all, some ‘fruits’ are poisonous: negatively we might say "sinners will reap what they sow". But when we say "my efforts have been fruitful", we are (quite correctly) speaking positively of the enjoyment of success.

'Fruition' (from Latin noun fruitio from the verb fruor) is always positive; fears are always about something negative, so when they are 'realised' (ie 'come true’) or 'justified' (ie 'proved correct') they do not lead to fruition - only to disappointment, frustration or despair..

BBC’s Radio Times has in recent years become less and less careful in its language. Almost every week it publishes statements that are ungrammatical or plain stupid. We may forgive such errors in conversation or in interviews - even experts experience slips of the tongue. But it is not unreasonable to expect professional writers and editors to know the basics of their trade.

The singular they, and coming to fruition