How to improve your written and spoken English by really trying

Here’s a question sent to my Personal Messages box by Ian T., new Forum member, last February 7, 2014:

Hi! Mr. Joe Carillo,
 I am a teacher and also a student of English. It has been more than five years since I started studying English; however, my grammar has not improved in both my spoken or written English. I have read every grammar book that I know from Cambridge to Oxford, but I have not really seen any big improvement in my English skills. I have been reading your Forum to find an answer to my problem, but for now, I just want to express my gratitude to you for this website, which is helping me a lot. Thanks!

My reply to Ian T.:

You’re most welcome, Ian!

I must say at the outset that you’re not alone in your predicament. Many nonnative speakers of English who want to become more proficient in English get into the same fix because they think they can achieve that objective by simply reading one English grammar textbook after another. That isn’t the right way to do it. Becoming good in English grammar may make you get good grades in school and score high in grammar proficiency tests, but it won’t dramatically improve your spoken and written English.

Grammar and usage—along with vocabulary—are very much like carpentry tools; they won’t make you a master carpenter if you keep them unused in the toolbox and make very little effort to use them in actual carpentry work. To realize a big improvement in English proficiency, you must assiduously make use, hone, and internalize your grammar and usage skills. You can do this by regularly reading and listening to good English—mind you, not just the kind you read in local English-language periodicals or hear on TV and radio broadcasts, but good English-language fiction and nonfiction as well as outstanding foreign English-language TV talk shows and news programs. Then you must make every effort to speak good English yourself—whether practicing in total privacy or in the company of friends and acquaintances.

You can consider yourself adequately skilled in English only when you are able to think or speak or write in good, straightforward English rather than mentally translating your native-language thoughts into English every time—and I must tell you that nothing less than a continuing, rigorous self-improvement effort can make that quantum improvement happen.

Over the years, a good number of readers of my English-usage column in The Manila Times and, later, members of Jose Carillo's English Forum as well have similarly asked me for advice for improving their English. I have distilled my thoughts about that question in “Advice to the English-challenged,” an essay that I wrote for my Times column in 2003. I later used that essay as the epilogue to my book English Plain and Simple: No-Nonsense Ways to Learn Today’s Global Language, and I am now posting it here as a suggested general action plan for you and for others seeking to improve both their written and spoken English.

             

Advice to the English-challenged

Scores of readers of my English-usage column in the Manila Times have asked me by e-mail how they can improve not only their written but also their spoken English. The two notes below are typical of their plight about their proficiency in the language:

Arkie Manny: “Can you please give me advice on how to converse in English more effectively? I am working here abroad and there are times when I stutter when talking with my colleagues.” 

Abby B., who studies in a prestigious Philippine university: “Way back in high school, we were not trained to speak English well. So now that I am in college, it is proving to be a very big disadvantage. I have a problem communicating with people. Sometimes I fail to answer my teacher’s questions during recitation not because I don’t know the answer, but because I don’t know how to deliver it. I get scared that I might not say what I really want to say and that my grammar might be wrong. I find it hard to deal with the problem. It affects my self-esteem. I want to become competitive. I want to become fluent. I hope you can give me advice.”

Arkie’s and Abby’s woes are actually very similar, so I gave them the same advice. Of course, I offered it neither as speech therapist nor speech improvement expert, but only as one who, many years ago, suffered from both problems mildly and had decently managed to cope with them.

I know of at least three reasons why some people find it difficult to express themselves in social, business, and classroom situations: a minor congenital vocal defect, an inferiority complex, or a deficient vocabulary, bad grammar, and bad pronunciation. To have any of these problems is, of course, excruciating enough. But worse is that many people just give up and blame their genetics, their upbringing, and their schools for it. Few bother to look deeply into their problem and find ways to surmount it.

In the case of a vocal defect, like the legendary stutter of Demosthenes of ancient Greece, personal initiative can make a lot of difference. Every day, the Athenian sword-maker’s son would do a solitary marathon and huff and puff through the city streets to the beach, stuff his mouth with pebbles, then start orating to the waves at the top of his voice. In time, the stutter disappeared and he went on to become the greatest orator Greece had ever known. Today, of course, you need not even do such an excruciating routine. You can simply get hold of a good English-language book or magazine and start reading aloud in the privacy of your bedroom. You can even do audiotapes of your readings to check your progress. If you do this for at least 20 minutes each night for a month, it just might do wonders to your recalcitrant tongue and diction as it did to mine.

If you have inferiority complex, there should be two or three personality development centers in your area that can help. I have not gone to one myself, but I had observed first-hand how their specialists make people see clearly the nature of their speech problems. The simple assisted routine of watching yourself speak in front of a mirror, or of being videotaped to capture your bad pronunciation as well as your tics and mannerisms, can be a painfully revealing but liberating process. A young secretary of mine many years ago suffered from an exasperating shyness; when spoken to, she would slur her replies and her right eye would blink rapidly without her even knowing it. I sent her to one such center and she became a self-confident, more refined woman in eight weeks, the slur and blinking gone.

Finally, as to deficient vocabulary and bad grammar, I actually know of only one appropriate course of action for that: a methodical self-review of English grammar, reading lots of good English-language books and magazines, and checking the dictionary for the meaning and pronunciation of any new word you encounter. It is sad that many schools and many teachers these days cannot be trusted to help you in this; their own problems with English vocabulary, grammar, and pronunciation may be even worse than yours. You can easily see this in the incomprehensible, tortured English of leading Philippine educators who make the mistake of publishing their work in newspapers. Also, if you can help it, avoid tuning in to the Taglish morning programs of the local TV networks; listening to their fractured English and Filipino can set back your self-improvement efforts a few days each time.

As one who was similarly English-challenged in speech and who suffered from a mild stutter until third year in high school, I can tell you that there are few better therapies than the three I have described. Of course I must say one more thing: good English diction, as with practically all art forms, is simply the result of patiently cultivating the quality of one’s mind and of practice, practice, practice.

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This essay first appeared in my “English Plain and Simple” column in The Manila Times in the early 2000s and now forms the epilogue to my book English Plain and Simple: No-Nonsense Ways to Learn Today’s Global Language © 2004 by Manila Times Publishing Corp. All rights reserved.

FURTHER READING:

Writing well in English no guarantee of being able to speakwell in English

So which do we use: a gerund, a full infinitive, or a bare infinitive?

For many nonnative speakers or learners of English, it’s difficult enough deciding whether to use a gerund or an infinitive for certain sentence constructions, but the problem becomes even more baffling when neither makes the sentence work properly or—at the very least—doesn’t make that sentence sound right. In such cases, in fact, lopping off the “to” from the full infinitive form to yield what’s called the bare infinitive becomes necessary to put the sentence on the right footing.

Such a grammatical dilemma was recently presented to me by an Iran-based English teacher, to analyze and resolve which I wrote a three-part essay for my weekly English-usage column in The Manila Times. I am now posting all three parts here for the benefit of all who still get similarly stumped by the gerund-infinitive conundrum. (February 4, 2014)

1 – The choice between the gerund and the infinitive

An English teacher in Iran, Farhad H., e-mailed me recently about his perplexity over the following sentences involving infinitives and gerunds:

“Please take a look at Sentences 1 and 2 below:

“(1) ‘Rather than drive to New York in the snow, we decided to stay home and watch the game on television.’

“(2) ‘Rather than running away from a difficult situation, they see it as challenging.’

“As you can see, in Sentence 1, after ‘rather than,’ the bare infinitive ‘drive’ is used, while in Sentence 2, an ‘-ing’ form of the verb is used. Why? I’m really confused. What do we need after the ‘rather than’—a bare infinitive or an ‘-ing’ form? How do we decide which one to use?”

My reply to Farhad:

Your question involves two grammatical aspects: whether to use an infinitive or gerund, and whether to use a full infinitive or bare infinitive.

For a better understanding of these grammatical forms, recall that infinitives and gerunds are both verbals, or words that combine the characteristics of a verb and a noun. As a rule, an infinitive has the form “to + verb stem,” as in “to watch” functioning as a noun, while a gerund is a form of the verb that ends in “-ing,” as in “watching” likewise functioning as a noun. (A third kind of verbal, the participle, combines the characteristics of a verb and an adjective—as in the participle “watched” in the sentence “A watched pot never boils.”)

Being functionally nouns, both infinitives and gerunds can be used as subject, object, or complement, but whether an infinitive or gerund will properly work as such is primarily determined by the operative verb of the sentence.

Take Sentence 1 above: “Rather than drive to New York in the snow, we decided to stay home and watch the game on television.”

Let’s put that sentence in its normal, straightforward form so we can analyze it better: “We decided to stay home and watch the game on television rather than drive to New York in the snow.” Here, it’s clear that the operative verb is “decided,” and that “to stay home and watch the game on television” and “drive to New York in the snow” are both infinitive phrases serving as its direct objects—meaning that they are acting as nouns receiving the action of the verb “decided.”

The difference between these two infinitive phrases, however, is that the first,  “to stay home and watch the game on television,” is a full infinitive phrase, while the second, “drive to New York in the snow,” is a bare infinitive phrase, having dropped the function word “to.” The sentence is none the worse for it, though, showing that the infinitive “to drive” can take its bare infinitive form in that sentence without messing up its grammar and syntax.

Now let’s see if that sentence will still work correctly if it uses the full infinitive “to drive” instead: “We decided to stay home and watch the game on television rather than to drive to New York in the snow.” The grammar and syntax of that sentence remain airtight, but I must hasten to add that this doesn’t hold true in all cases. Indeed, several other factors come into play on whether a full infinitive or bare infinitive will work in a sentence.

Before taking up that aspect, however, let’s find out first if we can replace the infinitive phrases in Sentence 1 with their corresponding gerund forms: “We decided staying home and watching the game on television rather than driving to New York in the snow.” This time the sentence no longer reads and sounds right—clearly indicating that “decide” as operative verb won’t accept gerund phrases as direct objects.

We will discuss the ground rules for choosing between infinitives and gerunds in the second part of this essay below.

2 – Ground rules for choosing between gerunds and infinitives    

Let’s continue our discussion on the choice between infinitives and gerunds and between full infinitives and bare infinitives in constructing sentences.

In the first part of this essay, we left off with the finding that the following sentence that uses infinitive phrases as direct object of the operative verb “decided” is grammatically airtight: “We decided to stay home and watch the game on television rather than to drive to New York in the snow.” However, when the infinitive phrases are replaced by their gerund phrase equivalents, the sentence no longer reads and sounds right: “We decided staying home and watching the game on television rather than driving to New York in the snow.”

The problem is that the verb “decide” won’t accept the gerund phrases as direct objects in that sentence. In English, it is the operative verb that determines whether an infinitive or gerund can serve as subject, object, or complement, and it does so following these four ground rules: 

1. Use the infinitive as subject when denoting potential, the gerund when denoting actuality or fact. Potential: “To win will be great.” (“Winning will be great” works just as well, for “win” is one of those verbs that can take either the gerund or infinitive form to denote potential.) Actuality or fact: “Winning made him ecstatic.” (The infinitive doesn’t work: “To win made him ecstatic.”)

2. Use the infinitive as complement or object when denoting future ideas and plans, the gerund when denoting acts done or ended. Infinitive for future ideas and plans: “Her ambition is to teach.” (But not, “Her ambition is teaching.”) Gerund for acts done or ended: “She picked teaching.” (But not, “She picked to teach.”)

3. Use the infinitive as complement for single or repeated action, the gerund for ongoing action. Single action: “I came here to study.” (But not, “I came here studying.”). Repeated action: “She goes there to rest.” (But not, “She goes there resting.”). Ongoing action: “He does selling on the side.” (But not, “He does to sell on the side.”).

4. Use the infinitive as object for a request, instruction, or causation; the gerund for attitude and unplanned action. Request: “He asked me to rehearse.” (But not, “He asked me rehearsing.”). Instruction: “She told me to wait.” (But not, “She told me waiting.”). Causation: “They forced him to abdicate.” (But not, “They forced him abdicating.”). Attitude: “He thinks sailing is risky.” (But not, “He thinks to sail is risky.”) Unplanned action: “He found dancing to his liking.” (But not, “He found to dance to his liking.”).

These ground rules provide us with a clearer conceptual framework for using infinitives or gerunds, but we must firmly keep in mind that the primary basis for the choice is the operative verb of the sentence. We have to get used to the fact that some operative verbs can take infinitives, others can take gerunds, and the rest can take both. Making the correct choice won’t be easy, but ultimately, it’s the one that makes the sentence read logically and sound right.

Now let’s go back to Sentence 2 as presented by Farhad H.: “Rather than running away from a difficult situation, they see it as challenging.” He asked: Shouldn’t that sentence use the bare infinitive phrase “run away” instead?

That sentence obviously doesn’t read logically or sound right with the gerund phrase “running away,” but neither does it do so with the full infinitive phrase “to run away”: “Rather than to run away from a difficult situation, they see it as challenging.” However, it makes sense and reads perfectly well with the bare infinitive phrase “run away”: “Rather than run away from a difficult situation, they see it as challenging.” Why is that?

In the third and final part of this essay below, we’ll take up the rules for choosing between full infinitives and bare infinitives.

3 – Grammatical situations that require the bare infinitive

In the second part of this essay, we saw that the following sentence with the full infinitive phrase “to run away” doesn’t sound right: “Rather than to run away from a difficult situation, they see it as challenging.” However, it reads perfectly well when that full infinitive phrase is changed to its bare infinitive form: “Rather than run away from a difficult situation, they see it as challenging.”

So the question is: Are there hard-and-fast rules for using the full infinitive or the bare infinitive? There are actually none; all that can really be said is that in general, the primary determining factor is the operative verb of the sentence. Indeed, we’ll only find out which of them works—or works best—by first using the full infinitive by default. When it doesn’t work, the bare infinitive form usually will—unless, as we saw in our previous discussions, it’s only the infinitive’s gerund equivalent that can do the job.

At this point, we can now categorically answer the original question of Iran-based Forum member Farhad H. that launched this discussion: It’s in the nature of English that when an infinitive or infinitive phrase is preceded by the adverbs “rather,” “better,” and “had better” or by the prepositions “except,” “but,” “save” (in the sense of “except”), and “than,” it’s highly advisable to use the bare infinitive in the sentence.

Let’s try out those specific instances that require the bare infinitive: “We would rather commute than drive at this hour.” (Faulty with full infinitive: “We would rather to commute than to drive at this hour.”) “With the mess you’re in, you had better hire a lawyer.” (Faulty with full infinitive: “With the mess you’re in, you had better to hire a lawyer.”) “We tried everything except beg.” (Iffy with full infinitive: “We tried everything except to beg.”) “They did nothing but complain.” (Iffy with full infinitive: “They did nothing but to complain.”) 

As a rule, of course, the verb auxiliaries “shall,” “should,” “will,” “would,” “may,” “might,” “can,” “could,” and “must” should always be followed by a bare infinitive: “I shall scold them.” (Faulty with full infinitive: “I shall to scold them.”) “We may go there tonight.” (Faulty with full infinitive: “We may to go there tonight.”) “You must find her at once.” (Faulty with full infinitive: “You must to find her at once.”)

Now, when the operative verb is a perception verb like “see,” “feel,” “hear,” or “watch” and it’s followed by an object, the object complement should be in the bare infinitive form for the sentence to work properly: “We watched him perform the role and we saw him bungle it so badly.” (Faulty with full infinitive: “We watched him to perform the role and we saw him to bungle it so badly.”) “I heard her scream at a fellow justice during a full session.” (Faulty with full infinitive: “I heard her to scream at a fellow justice during a full session.”)

A bare infinitive is likewise needed as object complement when the operative verb is the helping verb “let” or “make” followed by an object: “Let me call you sweetheart.” (Faulty with full infinitive: “Let me to call you sweetheart.”) “She always makes me feel brand new.” (Faulty with full infinitive: “She always makes me to feel brand new.”)

The helping verb “help” itself, however, can take either a full infinitive or a bare infinitive as object complement. The sentence sounds formal with the full infinitive: “She helped them to mount the coup d’etat.” It’s relaxed, informal-sounding with the bare infinitive: “She helped them mount the coup d’etat.”

Always remember, though, that all of these uses of the bare infinitive should be treated as exceptions to the general rule. When in doubt, use the full infinitive first to see if the sentence will work properly.

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This three-part essay originally appeared in the weekly column “English Plain and Simple” by Jose A. Carillo in The Manila Times, January 11, 18, and 25, 2014 © 2014 by the Manila Times Publishing Corp. All rights reserved.

FURTHER READINGS:

The bare infinitive solution to some intractable sentence constructions

Can intransitive verbs take a gerund or infinitive phrase as direct object?

How infinitives and gerunds work in comparative sentences

Good communicators hone the use of indirect questions to a fine art

In polite society, how we frame our questions has a decisive bearing on the kind and quality of response we’ll get. This is why when in unfamiliar social situations or when addressing a total stranger, it is the mark of civility to avoid pointblank questions and make use of indirect questions instead. Indeed, indirect questions have the pleasant effect of “breaking the ice,” so to speak, encouraging those addressed to give information willingly—very often without being conscious of doing so.

In “The Grammar of Indirect Questions,” an essay that I wrote for my English-usage column in The Manila Times, I explored the various forms of indirect questions and the many ways of structuring them to elicit the desired response. I am now posting that essay here to help people hone their use of indirect questions to a fine art, thus making them not just effective but pleasant communicators as well. (January 5, 2014)

The Grammar of Indirect Questions

Imagine you are all by yourself at an MRT station or bus stop when a total stranger suddenly walks to just a few inches of you and blurts out this question straight to your face: “What time is it?” No matter how harmless or decent-looking the stranger, chances are that you’d feel a deep sense of intrusion, as if somebody has just barged into your bedroom from the outside in the dead of night. You may not say a word, but your sense of violation and outrage would be real. This is because when asked direct questions like “What time is it?” pointblank, the preliminary amenities neglected, people instinctively resist giving answers and oftentimes become downright hostile.

This, as we must have observed all our lives, is where the art of asking indirect questions comes in. Using indirect questions instead of direct ones in socially unstructured settings has the pleasant effect of “breaking the ice,” so to speak. It lowers resistance to intrusion on privacy and prompts people to give the requested information willingly and without seeming to do so. Thus, in the situation described above, and without thinking at all, you probably would have obliged the stranger with the desired information had he used this classic indirect question, “Hi! I wonder if you can give me the time,” or, with less familiarity, “Excuse me...May I know what time it is?”

Although indirect questions clearly ask for a response, they don’t necessarily need a questioning intonation when actually spoken, nor end with a question mark when in the written form. The first indirect question above, for instance—“Hi! I wonder if you can give me the time”—doesn’t look like and isn’t in the form of a question at all. It is an indirect statement that embeds a question word to reduce the sense of forthrightness. Its basic structure is this: Indirect statement = [indirect phrase] + [question word] + [statement]. In the given example, the indirect phrase is “I wonder,” the question word is “if,” and the request statement, “you can give me the time,” is by semantic design already worded in the affirmative. This psychologically predisposes people to make an unstated “yes” and unthinkingly give the requested information. “It’s 9:25,” you’ll probably reply without thinking more of it.

See how this same wholesome tact is used by the other indirect questions that follow, and compare it with that used by their direct question equivalents: “I really don’t understand what you find in that woman.” (“What do you find in that woman?”). “It must be difficult for you to put up with such an inflexible husband.” (“How can you put up with such an inflexible husband?”). “I suppose you have already discussed your complaint with the boss.” (“Did you discuss your complaint with the boss?”).“You must find it so inconvenient commuting to your office.” (“Isn’t it very inconvenient to commute to your office?”).“I wonder if the good-looking applicant you interviewed is qualified for the job.” (“Is the good-looking applicant you interviewed qualified for the job?”).

The more formal and polite way to put an indirect question, however, is to use a phrase followed by a statement, in a construction that—unlike in a direct question—doesn’t invert the subject and verb or use an auxiliary verb: Indirect question = [indirect phrase] + [statement]. By taking the form of a real question with a modified question embedded in it, indirect questions like the following profoundly attenuate the oftentimes irritating forthrightness of direct questions: “Can you tell us where you were that night?” (Where were you that night?”). “Do you know how long the trip will be to the Banaue Rice Terraces?” (How long is the trip to the Banaue Rice Terraces?”).

For an indirect question that we want answered with a simple “yes” or “no,” we can use an indirect construction with an “if” embedded in it, as in the first indirect question we discussed: Indirect question = [indirect phrase] + “if” + [statement]. “Would you ask her if she is interested in the job?” (“Does she want the job?”). “Could you tell me if this is the store that sells jade bangles?” (“Is this the store that sells jade bangles?”). “Would you know if they are willing to sell all their stocks at a 15 percent premium?” (Will they sell all their stocks at a 15 percent premium?”).

The difference between indirect questions and direct questions may look deceptively superficial, but the superiority of the former in eliciting a positive response simply can’t be underestimated. Indirect questions are definitely not only a much more civilized way of getting information from strangers and acquaintances alike but are much more efficient ones at that. To become more pleasant and effective communicators, we will thus be much better off cultivating the art of asking indirect questions rather than just banking solely on the conciseness of their direct counterparts.

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This essay subsequently appeared as Chapter 113 of Jose Carillo’s book Give Your English the Winning Edge. Manila Times Publishing Corp. Copyright 2009 by Jose A. Carillo. All rights reserved.

The great importance of parallel construction in presenting ideas

Apart from the usefulness of the information or the power of the ideas being presented, what distinguishes good writing from insipid, so-so writing is parallelism in grammar along with symmetry in sentence construction. Parallelism and symmetry are actually mutually reinforcing attributes of exposition; by emphasizing the likeness or similarity between two or more ideas at both the sentence and paragraph levels, they promote clarity of expression and make the language more forceful and readable.

But precisely how do we achieve parallelism and symmetry in our own writing?

To shed some light to this question, I wrote a four-part essay, “Presenting ideas in parallel,” for my English-usage column in The Manila Times in 2006. Part I took up the basic rule for parallel construction: never mix grammatical forms when presenting similar or related ideas. Part II discussed another very important parallel construction rule: a parallel structure that begins with a clause should sustain that pattern all the way. Part III presented specific applications of the two parallelism rules taken up in Parts I and II. Finally, Part IV demonstrated how to achieve structural balance for sentences by using parallel structure for adjectives and adverbs as well as for two or more grammatical elements serving as complements.

That four-part essay now forms part of my book Give Your English the Winning Edge (Manila Times Publishing, 486 pages), and parts of that essay have already appeared here in the Forum at different times. Having seen not just a few violations (and apparent misunderstandings) of the parallelism rule in media in recent weeks, however, I decided to post all parts of the essay in full here. I am confident that by taking to heart that essay’s prescriptions for achieving parallelism, serious students of the writing craft (and the occasional professional media writers who check out this blogspot) will see a dramatic improvement in both their written and spoken English. (December 8, 2013)

Part I – Presenting ideas in parallel

Parallel construction is one of our most powerful tools for organizing and presenting ideas. It cannot be overemphasized that making our sentences grammatically and semantically correct is simply not enough. We should also ensure that each of their grammatical structures that are alike in function follows the same pattern. In fact, observance of this basic stylistic rule very often spells the difference between good and bad writing.

To give us a better idea of the power of parallel construction, let us first examine the following simple sentence: “Alberto likes reading, jogging, and to play computer games.”

We will find that it is structurally disjointed and does not read well because not all of its serial elements follow the same pattern. Although the first two elements, “reading” and “jogging,” are in parallel because both are gerunds (“-ing” noun forms), the third, “to play computer games,” ruins the parallelism because it is in the infinitive form (“to” + the verb stem).

One quick way to fix this structural problem is to put the third element also in gerund form, “playing computer games,” so that the sentence reads as follows: “Alberto likes reading, jogging, and playing computer games.” It is now grammatical balanced and no longer sounds stilted.

Another way for the original sentence to achieve parallelism is to make all three of its serial elements take the infinitive form: “Alberto likes to read, to jog, and to play computer games.” This sentence, of course, can be streamlined even further by using “to” only once right before the first of the all-infinitive parallel elements: “Alberto likes to read, jog, and play computer games.”

In actual practice, we have to put in parallel not only single words or short phrases but much more complicated grammatical structures such as extended phrases and clauses as well as long serial lists. However, the basic rule for parallel construction remains the same: never mix grammatical forms. We have to choose the most appropriate form for the similar or related ideas, then stick to the same pattern all the way.

Consider the following sentence with three extended elements that are not all in parallel:

The chief executive decided to terminate the advertising manager because he rarely managed to come up with the company’s TV commercials on time, approved the publication of several major print advertising with serious grammar errors, and his relations with both his staff and the advertising agencies were very bad.

The first subordinate clause, “he rarely managed to come up with the company’s TV commercials on time,” is in parallel with the second subordinate clause, “(he) approved the publication of several major print advertising with serious grammar errors,” because both of them are active verb forms using “he” (the advertising manager) as the subject. However, the third subordinate clause, “his human relations with both his staff and the advertising agencies were very poor,” disrupts the parallelism because it is in the passive verb form and takes for its subject not “he” but another noun form, “his relations with both his staff and the advertising agencies.”

See how much better the sentence reads when the third element is modified so it becomes parallel with the first two:

The chief executive decided to terminate the advertising manager because he rarely managed to come up with the company’s TV commercials on time, allowed the publication of several major print advertising with serious grammar errors, and related very badly with both his staff and the advertising agencies.

Note that the three elements are now all active-voice verb phrases—“rarely managed…”, “allowed the publication…”, and “related very badly…”—that are perfectly parallel in form.

We will go deeper into the various ways of achieving parallelism in the next essay. (May 29, 2006)

Part II – Presenting ideas in parallel

As emphasized in Part I of this essay, the basic rule for parallel construction is to never mix grammatical forms when presenting similar or related ideas. A sentence that presents two or more serial elements should stick to the same pattern all throughout—all noun forms, all gerund forms, all infinitive forms, or all verb forms as the case may be. When serial elements all take the same form, ideas come across much more clearly and cohesively.

We will discuss another very important parallel construction rule this time: A parallel structure that begins with a clause should sustain that pattern all the way. Recall now that a clause is a group of words that contains a subject and a predicate (and can thus function as a sentence in its own right, as in “we should obey the law”), as opposed to a phrase, which is a group of words that doesn’t have them (and thus can’t function as a sentence by itself, as in “to obey the law” or “obeying the law”). When the sentence doesn’t sustain the clause pattern, or when any of the clauses shifts from the active to the passive voice or the other way around, the parallelism falls apart. The result is a disjointed sentence that doesn’t read well.

Take this sentence that contains three serial grammatical elements: “The English professor told the students that they should aim for perfect attendance, that they should always do their assigned homework, and to submit their term papers on time.” The parallelism of this sentence breaks down because while the first two elements—“they should aim for perfect attendance” and “they should always do their assigned homework”—are both clauses, the third element—“to submit their term papers on time”—is not a clause but an infinitive phrase.

We need to make this third element also a clause—“they should submit their term papers on time”—so the sentence can become perfectly parallel and more readable: “The English professor told the students that they should aim for perfect attendance, that they should do their assigned homework regularly, and that they should submit their term papers on time.”

Of course, a more concise but less emphatic way to construct this serial-clause sentence is to use the imperative “that they should” only once before the first clause: “The English professor told the students that they should aim for perfect attendance, do their assigned homework regularly, and submit their term papers on time.” (Be forewarned, though, that such streamlining can obscure the meaning in more complicated constructions.)

The parallel structure of a sentence with serial clauses can also be ruined when any of the clauses takes a different voice, say the passive from active: “The president anticipated that majority of the lower house would welcome the planned Charter change, that most of the senators would fiercely oppose it, and that a vicious demolition job would be mounted against it by her political detractors.”

Here, the first two clauses—“majority of the lower house would welcome the planned charter change” and “most of the senators would fiercely oppose it”—are in the active voice, but the third clause—“a vicious demolition job would be mounted against it by her political detractors”—is in the passive voice, thus disrupting the pattern.

To make the construction parallel all throughout, we should make the third clause also take the active voice—“her political detractors would mount a vicious demolition job against it.” This results in a more forceful sentence: “The president anticipated that majority of the lower house would welcome the planned charter change, that most of the senators would fiercely oppose it, and that her political detractors would mount a vicious demolition job against it.” (June 5, 2006)

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From the weekly column “English Plain and Simple” by Jose A. Carillo in The Manila Times, May 29 and June 5, 2006 © 2010 by the Manila Times Publishing Corp. All rights reserved.

Part III – Presenting ideas in parallel

We have already taken up the two basic rules for parallel construction, namely that a sentence that presents two or more serial elements should stick to the same pattern all throughout, and that a parallel structure that begins with a clause should sustain that pattern all the way. We saw that we can build much clearer and more forceful sentences by consistently observing these rules.

Now we need to refamiliarize ourselves with four specific applications of these two parallelism rules: (1) that all of the elements being enumerated in a list should take the same grammatical form, (2) that elements being compared should take the same grammatical form, (3) that elements joined by a linking verb or a verb of being should take the same grammatical form, and (4) that elements joined by a correlative conjunction should take the same grammatical form.

All elements in a list should have a parallel structure. We can make our written compositions better organized and more readable by using the same grammatical form for all the elements we are enumerating in a list. The elements should all be noun forms, verb forms, infinitive phrases, gerund phrases, or participial phrases, whichever is most appropriate. When we allow any of the elements to take a different form, the rhythm of the enumeration is broken and the reader’s train of thought is needlessly disrupted.

Consider the following not-so-well-thought-out list:

At present, our club has: (1) no formal charter, (2) subsisting without a long-term organizational goal, (3) a seriously declining membership, (4) a large budgetary deficit, and (5) to collect a large amount of past-due membership fees.

The list looks awfully craggy and reads very badly for an obvious reason: its elements don’t follow a consistent grammatical form. Items 1, 3, and 4 are noun phrases, but Item 2 is a verb phrase in the progressive form and Item 5 is an infinitive phrase.

Now see how smoothly and cohesively the list reads when its elements all take the same grammatical form, in this case as verb phrases:

At present, our club: (1) lacks a formal charter, (2) subsists without a long-term organizational goal, (3) suffers from a seriously declining membership, (4) carries a large budgetary deficit, and (5) needs to collect a large amount of past-due membership fees.

Elements being compared should use a parallel structure. In constructions that use the form “X is better than/more than Y,” we have to make sure that the elements being compared have the same grammatical structure. Unparallel (gerund/infinitive): “She enjoys jogging better than to run.” Parallel (gerund/gerund): “She enjoys jogging better than running.”

Elements joined by a linking verb or a verb of being should use a parallel structure. When we use “is” as a verb of being that links two elements, we have to make sure that the elements have the same grammatical structure. Unparallel (infinitive/gerund): “To make that impossible demand is declaring open hostilities.”Parallel (infinitive/infinitive): “To make that impossible demand is to declare open hostilities.”

Elements joined by a correlative conjunction should use a parallel structure. When we use the correlative conjunctions “either . . .  or,” “neither . . . nor,” “not only . . . but also,” “both . . . and . . .”, and “whether . . . or,” we have to make sure that the elements being correlated have the same grammatical structure.

Unparallel (gerund/infinitive): “For you to get to Manila on time, we suggest either taking the morning flight tomorrow or to drive overnight right now.” Parallel (gerund/gerund): “For you to get to Manila on time, we suggest either taking the morning flight tomorrow or driving overnight right now.”

Unparallel: “They not only demand very short installment periods but also huge down payments.” Parallel: “They demand not only very short installment periods but also huge down payments.” Also parallel: “They not only demand very short installment periods but also demand huge down payments.”

We will take up some more fine points about parallelism in Part IV of this essay. (June 12, 2006)

Part IV – Presenting ideas in parallel

We saw in the first three parts of this essay that the consistent use of parallel structures is the key to more readable, more forceful, and more polished sentences. We also learned that for clearer and more cohesive sentences, we should always use parallel structures when presenting various elements in a list, when comparing elements, when joining elements with a linking verb or a verb or being, and when joining elements with correlative conjunctions.

Before winding up our discussions on parallel construction, we will take up two more techniques for harnessing parallelism to give structural balance and better rhythm to our sentences. We will discover that these techniques can dramatically improve our writing and give it a distinctive sense of style.

Use parallel structure for adjectives and adverbs. We should also aim for parallel patterns when using adjectives and adverbs in our sentences, seeking structural balance for them in much the same way as we do for noun forms, verb forms, infinitives, and gerunds.

Unparallel construction: “She danced gracefully, with confidence and as if exerting no effort at all.” Here, we have a stilted sentence because the modifiers of the verb “danced” have taken different grammatical forms: “gracefully” (adverb), “with confidence” (adjective introduced by a preposition), and “as if exerting no effort at all” (adverbial phrase).

Parallel construction: “She danced gracefully, confidently, effortlessly.” The consistent adverb/adverb/adverb pattern gives the sentence a strong sense of unity and drama.

Unparallel construction: “The gang attempted an audacious bank robbery that was marked by lightning speed and done in a commando manner.” The sentence reads badly because the three modifiers of “bank robbery” are grammatically different: “audacious” (adjective), “marked by lightning speed” (participial phrase), and “done in a commando manner” (another participial phrase).

Parallel construction: “The gang attempted an audacious, lightning-swift, commando-type bank robbery.” The sentence reads much more forcefully because of its consistent adjective-adjective-adjective pattern for all of the modifiers of “bank robbery.”

Use parallel structure for several elements serving as complements of a sentence. For more cohesive and forceful sentences, we should always look for a suitable common pattern for their complements. Recall that a complement is an added word or expression that completes the predicate of a sentence. For instance, in the sentence “They included Albert in their soccer lineup,” the phrase “in their soccer lineup” is the complement.

Unparallel construction: “We basked in the kindness of our gracious hosts, walking leisurely in the benign morning sunshine, and the palm trees would rustle pleasantly when we napped in the lazy afternoons.” Here, we have a confusing construction because the three elements serving as complements don’t have a common grammatical pattern: “the kindness of our hosts” (noun phrase), “walking leisurely in the benign morning sunshine” (progressive verb form), and “the palm trees would rustle pleasantly when we napped in the lazy afternoons” (clause).

Parallel construction: “We basked in the kindness of our gracious hosts, in the benign sunshine during our early morning walks, and in the pleasant rustle of the palm trees when we napped in the lazy afternoons.” The sentence reads much, much better this time because the three complements are now all noun phrases in parallel—“in the kindness of our gracious hosts,” “in the benign morning sunshine during our early morning walks,” and “in the pleasant rustle of the palm trees when we napped in the lazy afternoons.” Note that all three have been made to work as adverbial phrase modifiers of the verb “basked.”

In actual writing, of course, the need to use parallel structures in our sentences will not always be apparent at first. As we develop our compositions, however, we should always look for opportunities for parallel construction, choose the most suitable grammatical pattern for them, then pursue that pattern consistently. Together with good grammar, this is actually the great secret to good writing that many of us have been looking for all along. (June 19, 2011)

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From the weekly column “English Plain and Simple” by Jose A. Carillo in The Manila Times, June 12 and 19, 2006 © 2006 by the Manila Times Publishing Corp. All rights reserved.

Time to get a more solid grasp of the usage of “that” and “which”

Does the choice between “that” and “which” to link relative clauses still make your head spin? Try this one: “The charming beach resort (that, which) we used to visit in summer is now in shambles.” A little unsure or thoroughly baffled?

Either way, you are definitely not alone in your predicament. Uncertainty or downright confusion in using the relative pronouns is endemic not only among English students and teachers but also among professional writers in media and in the business sector. Indeed, after seeing so many instances of misuse of “which” and “there” in both unpublished and published writing over the years, I came to the conclusion that relative pronoun usage is an aspect of English grammar that wasn’t—and perhaps still isn’t—being taught and learned adequately in our school system.   

It was for this reason that I wrote a three-part essay, “Getting to know the relative clauses better,” in 2008 for  my weekly English-usage column in The Manila Times. I am sure that the extensive discussion of the subject will make Forum members, like the readers of my column then, much better equipped in handling relative pronouns and complex sentences. I am therefore posting the three essays altogether now in this week’s edition of the Forum. (November 17, 2013)

Getting to know the relative clauses better - I

One of the most common mistakes I encounter in my work as copyeditor and writing consultant is the misuse of the relative pronouns. Not a few of the manuscripts I edit often embarrassingly fumble or stumble when using “who,” “which,” or “that” to relate a qualifying clause to an antecedent noun in the sentence. And I must admit that early in my writing career, I used to get pretty mixed up with the relative pronouns myself. Simply on gut feel, I would indiscriminately use “which” and “that” to announce my relative clauses, so I can imagine that my grammar then was probably correct no more than 50 percent of the time.

I can see now that I got into this predicament largely because in my youth, I read a lot of novels by British authors. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy them or profit from them in terms of getting a better grasp of the English language, but as I was to find out to my consternation many years later, British English uses “which” and “that” in practically the opposite way American English does.

So I think it’s high time we did a full-dress review once more of the relative pronouns. We’ll do it specifically in the American English standard, which is the standard being used in the Philippines.

The relative pronouns are, of course, “who,” “which,” “that,” “whom,” “whoever,” “whomever,” “whatever,” and “whichever.” Each of them serves to relate a dependent or subordinate clause to an antecedent noun in a sentence, which can either be the subject or object of that dependent clause. And taken together, the relative pronoun and the dependent clause it introduces constitute what is called a relative clause.

Let’s examine this sentence that has a relative clause attached to it: “People who complain loudest about a problem often don’t do anything to solve it.” Here, the relative clause is “who complain loudest about a problem” and “who” is the relative pronoun that relates it to the antecedent noun “people,” which is the subject of the sentence. What the relative clause does here is to specify the particular people being written about; functionally, it provides additional information about the antecedent noun so the reader can understand the context of the statement better.

Now, in English, the choice of relative pronoun depends on two things: (1) whether the additional information being given is essential or not essential to the understanding of the idea or context of the main clause; and (2) whether the antecedent noun is a person or an animal or inanimate object. Either way, however, the relative pronoun can function as a subject or an object or can take its possessive form.

At any rate, a relative clause that provides essential information to the main clause is what is known as a defining or restrictive relative clause, as in the example we looked at earlier: “People who complain loudest about a problem often don’t do anything to solve it.” Here, the relative clause “who complain loudest about a problem” can’t be taken out from the sentence, for to do so will seriously change the meaning of what’s being said. Indeed, if we drop that relative clause, we would end up with “People don’t do anything to solve [a problem]”—a sentence that unreasonably and illogically generalizes on human behavior.

On the other hand, when the information in the relative clause is not essential to the idea or context of the main clause, we have what is called a nondefining or nonrestrictive relative clause. In such cases, a comma is normally needed to separate the relative clause from the main clause, as in this sentence: “The company decided to fire its legal counsel, who bungled the court filings in a crucial corporate dispute.” Here, the main clause can stand even without the relative clause. (September 20, 2008)

We’ll continue this discussion in Part II. 
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From the weekly column “English Plain and Simple” by Jose A. Carillo in The Manila Times, September 20, 2008 © 2008 by the Manila Times Publishing Corp. All rights reserved.

Getting to know the relative clauses better - II

In Part I of this essay, we discussed the difference between the two kinds of relative clauses: a defining or restrictive relative clause provides essential information to the main clause of a sentence, while a nondefining or nonrestrictive relative clause provides information not essential to the idea or context of the main clause. We then saw that when the antecedent noun is a person, a defining relative clause is inseparably linked to the main clause by the relative pronoun “who,” as in “Young people who spend too much time playing computer games tend to have very short attention spans.” A nondefining relative clause is similarly introduced by the relative pronoun “who,” but it must always be set apart from the main clause by a pair of commas, as in “The great Jose Rizal, who has been called ‘The Pride of the Malay Race,’ was actually of Chinese ancestry.” Those commas indicate that the main clause can stand even without the relative clause.

(Again, to get a surer feel of the difference between a defining clause and a nondefining clause, see what happens when we drop the relative clauses from each of the examples above: “Young people […] tend to have very short attention spans.” “The great Jose Rizal […] was actually of Chinese ancestry.” With the relative clause gone in the first sentence, the statement has become too overgeneralized to be true; in contrast, even without the relative clause, the second statement remains perfectly valid.)

So far, though, we have only discussed the use of relative pronouns when persons are the antecedent subjects. When the subject is an animal, a place, an inanimate object, or a concept, we can no longer use the relative pronoun “who” to link the relative clause to its antecedent subject. Instead, we use either the relative pronouns “that” or “which” depending on the kind of relative clause we are using in the sentence.

In American English specifically, we use “that” to link a defining or restrictive clause to a nonhuman antecedent subject, as in the following examples: “The Siamese cat that our father found on a street gutter a year ago became the family’s favorite pet.” “The tree house that the Sanchez brothers built during their teens was gone.” “The great idea that was propounded by the neophyte legislator got mangled due to too much politicking.” In these sentences, the relative clause is crucial to understanding the idea or context of the main clause; dropping the relative clause can seriously alter the import of—or significantly detract from—the intended meaning: “The Siamese cat became the family’s favorite pet.” “The tree house […] was gone.” “The great idea […] got mangled due to too much politicking.”

On the other hand, we use the relative pronoun “which” to link a nondefining or nonrestrictive clause to a nonhuman antecedent subject, as in the following examples: “The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, which was written by the British historian Edward Gibbon in the 18th century, has been hailed as one the greatest historical works produced by Western man.” “A subspecies of the chevrotain, which is also known as the mouse deer, is indigenous to Palawan and nearby islands.” The pair of enclosing commas is mandatory in such constructions; it sets the relative clause apart from the main clause and indicates that the relative clause is not essential to the idea of the main clause.

Indeed, when the relative clauses are dropped from such sentences, we will find that the main clauses can very well stand by themselves: “The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire […] has been hailed as one the greatest historical works produced by Western man.” “A subspecies of the chevrotain […] is indigenous to Palawan and nearby islands.”

In Part III of this essay, we will discuss how the American English usage of the relative clauses differs from that of British English and how we can streamline sentence constructions that use relative clauses. (September 27, 2008)
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From the weekly column “English Plain and Simple” by Jose A. Carillo in The Manila Times, September 27, 2008 © 2008 by the Manila Times Publishing Corp. All rights reserved.

Getting to know the relative clauses better - III

A rather sticky point about the relative pronouns “that” and “which” is that their American English usage differs in one important respect from British English usage. Indeed, one who gets heavily exposed to books and periodicals in both English standards—as I had been in my younger days—would experience some difficulty in choosing between “that” and “which” to link relative clauses.

This is because as we saw in Part II of this essay, American English specifically prescribes using “that” to link a defining or restrictive clause to a nonhuman antecedent subject, and restricts the use of “which” to linking a nondefining or nonrestrictive clause to a nonhuman antecedent subject. In contrast, British English uses “which” to link both defining and nondefining clauses in such situations: a defining “which” when no comma or pair of commas separates it from the relative clause, and a nondefining “which” when a comma or pair of commas (as the case may be) separates it from the relative clause.

In British publications, therefore, we will normally come across “which” used to introduce defining relative clauses, as in this sentence (italicizations mine): “Nevertheless, [Charles Darwin’s] is the version of natural selection which has since been supported by a century and a half of observation and which is now accepted by virtually every scientist on earth.” (“How Darwin won the evolution race” by Robin McKie, The Observer, June 22, 2008). In contrast, American publications normally would use “that” for the two relative clauses in that sentence (italicizations mine): “Nevertheless, [Charles Darwin’s] is the version of natural selection that has since been supported by a century and a half of observation and that is now accepted by virtually every scientist on earth.”

From my recent readings, though, I get the feeling that some British writers—probably due to the strong influence of American media—are no longer entirely averse to using “that” to introduce defining relative clauses. Consider this passage (italicizations mine): “Heather McGregor, a City headhunter, echoes this analysis with the arch observation that ‘the UK bank that has come out of the current crisis strongest is the one that has most aggressively promoted women into positions of senior management: Lloyds TSB.’” (“What caused the crunch? Men and testosterone” by Matthew Syed, The Times-UK, Sept. 30, 2008).

I would think that someone writing in British English would have used “which” to introduce the two defining clauses within the quoted material in that sentence: “Heather McGregor, a City headhunter, echoes this analysis with the arch observation that ‘the UK bank which has come out of the current crisis strongest is the one which has most aggressively promoted women into positions of senior management: Lloyds TSB.’”

Now, as I mentioned in my previous column, there’s a way to avoid having to make a choice between “which” and “that” when linking restrictive relative clauses to their antecedent subject: to drop the relative pronoun altogether whenever possible. See how this works in the following sentence: “The charming little beach that we used to visit in summer is now a crowded, high-end resort.” With “that” dropped: “The charming little beach we used to visit in summer is now a crowded, high-end resort.” Another example: “The emergency financial maneuver that was proposed by the chairman was rejected by the company’s stockholders.” With “that” dropped: “The emergency financial maneuver proposed by the chairman was rejected by the company’s stockholders.”

The two “that”-less sentences above are, of course, a form of elliptical construction, which we will recall is a streamlining procedure that makes a sentence more concise and easier to enunciate by omitting words that are obviously understood. This particular construction, though, is advisable only for informal writing and spoken English, and doesn’t work in all cases. In particular, we can’t omit “that” when the relative clause begins with an adverbial phrase, as in this sentence: “The speaker insisted that ultimately the people would suffer from the rejection of the emergency economic measure.”

See what happens when we drop “that”: “The speaker insisted ultimately the people would suffer from the rejection of the emergency economic measure.” The result is a squinting modifier, where the adverb “ultimately” could be understood as modifying either the verb before it or the entire phrase that follows it. (October 4, 2008)
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From the weekly column “English Plain and Simple” by Jose A. Carillo in The Manila Times, October 4, 2008 © 2008 by the Manila Times Publishing Corp. All rights reserved.

Never too late to pursue writing if you’ve got the talent

It’s never too late to pursue writing as a vocation if one belatedly discovers having the talent and the great reserves of energy to do it. Shirley A., who describes herself as “75 years old, living alone with almost nothing” (I’m withholding her surname to keep her privacy), makes this point with such disarming frankness in a recent e-mail that I thought I shouldn’t keep her sentiments all to myself. I am therefore sharing them here, verbatim.

October 26, 2013

Dear Sir:

I am reading “English Plain and Simple” and I am gaining so much, including being entertained by it. When I am done with the 463 pages, I might be able to express well what I want to tell you: how grateful I am that I found you and how much I am indebted to you. You see, I have had no formal education (in writing or otherwise) so I am not very encouraged to write anything, but your book is helping me a lot. You have no idea how much you will be contributing to my future happiness. I am 75 years old, living alone with almost nothing, but I hope to be able to fend for myself when I have nothing more but written words to see me through.

I just had a few good laughs today, reading quotes from H.L. Mencken. I just asked my daughter to send me a Nook and to order for me all that you recommended in pages 96/97 to Jay [Some informal prescriptions for better writing in English (1 – One Man’s Meat)].

Meantime, know that you are so much appreciated; if not for you, life would be meaningless and useless for me now. For the first time in my life, I have something worthy of the time God has given me on earth. I will not waste it now.

Thank you very, very much.

Very truly yours,

Shirley A.

My reply:

October 27, 2013

Dear Shirley,

Just call me Joe.

Thank you so much for your compliment about my book. I want you to know that I greatly appreciate it.

You express yourself very well. I have no doubt that even without having come across my book, you already had the facility to write good, compelling English prose. Perhaps all that my book has really done was to perk up your imagination and give you some ideas on how to put your writing talent to good use. But at 75, having discovered that you have the power to do it, you can now pursue a worthy enterprise that definitely can see you through in the years ahead—write a volume of personal essays perhaps or, if you strongly feel it’s worth telling, even the story of your life. Mind you, Shirley, not everybody is blessed with the talent or the motivation or the energy to do what you can do at your age, so my advice is: Go for it!

About H. L. Mencken, I must say that he was a great influence during my formative years; in fact, I still get a thrill down my spine every time I’m rereading his overarching polemics. Which gives me an idea: While waiting for that Nook from your daughter, why not read Mencken’s In Defense of Women in the Project Gutenberg e-book right now? The beauty about Mencken is that even if you don’t agree with his strong views, it’s always a delight to savor his acerbic thoughts in his superb English.

To ensure no dull moment in between your bouts of writing, Shirley, I have another suggestion: join Jose Carillo’s Forum, my English-usage website. You can ask questions or share your views about English or whatever in its discussion boards. You can even use it as a sketch pad or sounding board for material intended for your essays or autobiography. Who knows, someone from among the Forum’s over 42,000 members worldwide just might give you invaluable feedback or, at the very least, simply brighten up a sullen day for you.

Sincerely yours,

Joe Carillo

(The e-mail conversation above originally appeared in the weekly column “English Plain and Simple” by Jose A. Carillo in The Manila Times, November 2, 2013 issue © 2013 by Manila Times Publishing. All rights reserved.)

Rejoinder by Shirley A.:

October 28, 2013

Dear Joe:

I am very honored and flattered that you replied to my email although, I just wanted to thank you and didn’t expect you to waste anymore of your precious time on me.

Certainly, you have my permission to use the email or any part of it as you please and, well, that makes me very happy. Your book will do a lot for me in acquiring more knowledge and skills, if not, boost my confidence, as well. For sure it will elevate my too-elementary-style of writing to a higher level that would satisfy me. I have read and studied so many books including “The Elements of Style” but I am still very poor in punctuations and grammar, too. I also have a copy of “The 10 Most Annoying English Grammar Errors.” What it is doing now though, is, I am so afraid you will find many annoying grammatical errors in my writing but please don’t mind me, after all, I haven’t finished your book yet.

My one great desire was to get a college degree but even 10 years ago, I was already too old to be out in the streets using public transportation so, that was out of the question but if there was a school across from where I live, I will, most assuredly, still try. I am very envious of people who have a Ph.D. but I just accept and am grateful for what God gives me. I had a nagging feeling that He didn’t really want me to go through all that, at my age, proving my instincts right because of the appearance and advantage of your book, giving me what I long for and yet, not having to go through a lot of hassles, as would have happened, had I gone back to school.

I will follow all of your suggestions and advices and thank you so much for the link. I did want to read “In Defense of Women.” We seem to think along the same lines because last night, I was wishing I had a copy of it when I saw it among his books in the internet.

I can’t thank you enough, and I hope one day I can tell you that I had written an autobiography and a book on essays. I don’t have the resources to add The Manila Times to my daily read but if you send me the link you will get more appreciation and thanks from me.

Very sincerely,

Shirley

How to bring compositions to a proper, satisfying close

The following question was raised by a reader after I posted a four-part essay entitled “Basic and advanced techniques for doing paragraph transitions” in this blog last September 22, 2013: “If there can be ways to keep paragraphs flowing, how can writers properly stop them?”

I must say that this question puts the cart way, way before the horse. We really can’t talk meaningfully about how to end an article—much less take up specific techniques for such endings—unless we know the kind of article we are doing and how to go about writing it. I therefore replied to the question with an extended essay that takes up the four general forms of composition, namely description, narration, exposition, and persuasion; the six basic composition tools, namely definition, restatement, example, comparison, contrast, and cause and effect; various paragraph composition techniques; and options for bringing expository or persuasive compositions to a proper, satisfying close. I’m sure that everyone aspiring to write better, more readable, and more compelling compositions will find the posting instructive and greatly benefit from it. (October 7, 2013)

The craft of organizing and clarifying our thoughts in writing

I – The four general forms of composition

To put things in perspective, let’s first recall that the activity of organizing and clarifying our thoughts in writing is formally called composition, and that composition can take four general forms: description, narration, exposition, and persuasion. These are not mutually exclusive forms, of course; a particular composition can use any or all of them in combination.

As we all know, descriptive and narrative compositions are the simplest to do. It’s because they only require us to write about the things we have seen, heard, or felt and to just present them in a straightforward way to the reader. Falling under this category are written eyewitness accounts, testimonies, news stories, general feature articles, and travelogues. Our primary objective in writing them is simply to convey our information and our impressions to the reader. Once this task is done, we can stop without a formal conclusion; we can simply say “I’m done” or say nothing further. (In straight news stories, for instance, the inverted pyramid type of reporting allows the narrative to just trail off without a formal closing.)

In contrast, expository and persuasive compositions are much more complicated to do. To these categories belong essays, masteral or doctoral dissertations, interpretative or investigative reports, editorials and opinion pieces, court pleadings, advocacies, and position papers on debatable or controversial issues. In these types of writing, we need to explain more rigorously what’s in our mind, which could be a new idea or concept, a proposition, a theorem, or a stand on a raging issue. Our objective is not only to let the reader know what we know and think about the subject but to influence him or her to think or act about it our way. This is definitely a more exacting kind of writing, so we need to draw not only from our own stock of knowledge but also from the collective wisdom of other thinking minds—the familiar process that we know as research. Our goal is not only to make our point clearly understood and appreciated but, even more important, to make the reader accept that point and make it part of his or her own repository of stock knowledge and beliefs.

II – Writing the body of the composition

Even up to this point, it’s still too premature to talk about how to keep the paragraphs flowing in the composition and how to finally stop the flow. These are still a universe away, so to speak, for we still have to do the main business of writing the body of the composition. Indeed, ending it should be the least of our worries at this stage.

Now, if we are any good in our writing ability, we should be able to make short shrift of most descriptive and narrative compositions; competent newspaper writers, for instance, manage to come up with news and feature stories day in and day out despite their punitive deadlines. But coming up with readable and convincing expository or persuasive writing is an altogether different matter. This is because it requires the writer not just to share information and impressions with the readers but also to convert their lack of knowledge or their reservations or doubts about the subject under discussion into certainty, understanding, and belief. This is a much more demanding writing enterprise, one that requires most, if not all, of what I’d call the primary arsenal for doing compositions, namely definition, restatement, example, comparison, contrast, and cause and effect.

Let’s do a quick rundown of these basic composition devices:

Definition. This composition device clarifies or explains a concept or term for the reader, depending on our assessment of the level of knowledge or understanding of the reader about that concept or term. If the concept or term requires an extended definition, we may use the following methods to clarify it: (a) comparison-contrast, (b) description, (c) exemplification, and (d) negation.

Example:

Psychology is the study of the mind and behavior. The discipline embraces all aspects of the human experience — from the functions of the brain to the actions of nations, from child development to care for the aged. In every conceivable setting from scientific research centers to mental healthcare services, “the understanding of behavior” is the enterprise of psychologists.

         Definition of psychology by the American Psychological Association (APA)

Restatement. This composition device states an idea in another way to heighten the reader’s understanding of it.

Example 1:

The computer models also know where to draw the line; in other words, they’ll only go so far with the cheap seats. The airline knows how many seats it must sell at what price to ensure that the flight isn’t losing money. It could be that your flights have enough high-paying passengers that the airline is making money even with the empty seats. In which case, there may be nothing you can do about it.

         Excerpt from “Locating an Arabic Translator” by Donald D. Groff, Salon.com Travel and            Food Advisor

Example 2:

It’s no secret that remittances sent home by foreign workers eclipse both foreign direct investment (FDI) and foreign aid in many countries. In the Philippines, for example, remittances equal nearly 16% of total GDP. In India, nearly $23 billion is sent home from overseas, but just 3% of GDP.

         Quoted from a newspaper story

Comparison. This composition device examines similarities between two subjects to enhance perception and understanding about them.

Example:

In some respects, the 2004 merger of Union Planters with Regions Financial Corp.—a top-15 US bank headquartered in Birmingham, Alabama—looked to present fewer challenges than many such deals. The two banks had co-existed in comparable regional areas, and had similar work cultures that promised to ease many of the typical post-merger integration issues. Yet the Integration Team recognized that for the merger to be successful in the long term, an acquisition strategy for improving overall organizational performance was necessary.

         Excerpted from “Powering Up for an Important Merger,” Accenture.com 

Contrast. This composition device examines differences between two subjects to enhance perception and understanding about them.

Example:

The “image people” tend to think in terms of overall branding strategy and feel they do not need to attach a precise value to their brands; by contrast, the “numbers people” have a real interest in knowing the specific brand values. Accountants, for example, need to understand the value of brands the company has acquired to comply with IFRS 3, the new accounting standard on acquisition accounting (FAS 141 in the US has similar requirements).

         From “Image Makers” by Michael Imeson, The Banker, February 5, 2007 issue

Cause and effect. This composition device examines particular effects or outcomes in relation to their possible causes. Generally, since causes are not always easy to identify, we often will need to speculate about causes rather than offer absolute answers when we use this composition device.

Example:

In general, how we look communicates something about how healthy we are, how fertile, and probably how useful in the evolutionary environment. This may be why, across a range of cultures, women prefer tall, broad-shouldered men who seem like good reproductive specimens, in addition to offering the possibility of physical protection. Men, meanwhile, like pretty women who appear young. Women’s looks seem to vary depending on where they happen to be in the monthly fertility cycle.

         Excerpt from “Looks do Matter” by Daniel Akst, from Wilson Quarterly

Experimental exposition using the six composition tools. To give you an idea of how to use all six composition tools, I am posting in the Forum “On the Trail of Serendipity,” an essay that discusses an experimental essay that I developed based on this topic sentence: “Serendipity has shaped the life of the schoolteacher’s son more than he will admit.” Click this link now to read that essay.

III – Paragraph transition techniques

To ensure the smooth and cohesive flow of the ideas that we are presenting in an expository or persuasive piece, we need an adequate mastery of paragraph transitions—the craft of bridging a succeeding paragraph with the paragraph preceding it. I posted a four-part essay on this subject in the Forum last week, “Basic and advanced techniques for doing paragraph transitions,” and I presume that reading that essay was what prompted you to describe those techniques as “ways to keep paragraphs flowing.” If you still haven’t fully read or if you need to review the paragraph-transition techniques presented in that essay, click this link now; otherwise, you can proceed to the matter of properly stopping the flow of paragraphs—in short, how to end an expository or persuasive composition.

IV – When the time has come to conclude your composition

Let’s assume that your expository or persuasive article is now almost a done thing. You’ve been able to effectively bridge your paragraphs into a cohesive and convincing argument in support of your thesis, so you now think it’s time to end or conclude the article. Unlike a descriptive or narrative composition, however, you can’t leave an expository or persuasive composition on a lurch. You’ll surely infuriate and alienate your readers if you just say “I’m done” and blink off the page all of a sudden. Indeed, a good and effective expository or persuasive composition is one that its writer is able to bring to a compelling and satisfying close.

To get a good feel of compelling and satisfying closes, I suggest you do a focused, attentive reading of two full-length articles by two exemplars of the expository writing craft. The first is Joseph Epstein’s “I Dream of Genius” in Commentary Magazine and the second, Deborah Solomon’s “Inside America’s Great Romance with Norman Rockwell” in Smithsonian Magazine.

Here’s the one-paragraph conclusion to Epstein’s “I Dream of Genius”:

I find it pleasing that science cannot account for genius. I do not myself believe in miracles, but I do have a strong taste for mysteries, and the presence, usually at lengthy intervals, of geniuses is among the great ones. Schopenhauer had no explanation for the existence of geniuses, either, but, even while knowing all the flaws inherent in even the greatest among them, he held that geniuses “were the lighthouses of humanity; and without them mankind would lose itself in the boundless sea of error and bewilderment.” The genius is able to fulfill this function because he is able to think outside himself, to see things whole while the rest of us at best see them partially, and he has the courage, skill, and force to break the logjam of fixed opinions and stultified forms. Through its geniuses the world has made what serious progress it has thus far recorded. God willing, we haven’t seen the last of them.

And here’s the two-paragraph conclusion to Solomon’s “Inside America’s Great Romance With Norman Rockwell”:

Rockwell died in 1978, at age 84, after a long struggle with dementia and emphysema. By now, it seems a bit redundant to ask whether his paintings are art. Most of us no longer believe that an invisible red velvet rope separates museum art from illustration. No one could reasonably argue that every abstract painting in a museum collection is aesthetically superior to Rockwell’s illustrations, as if illustration were a lower, unevolved life-form without the intelligence of the more prestigious mediums.
 The truth is that every genre produces its share of marvels and masterpieces, works that endure from one generation to the next, inviting attempts at explication and defeating them in short order. Rockwell's work has manifested far more staying power than that of countless abstract painters who were hailed in his lifetime, and one suspects it is here for the ages.

There are really no hard-and-fast formulas or firm rules for doing conclusions, but I’ll list below some often-suggested options for doing them:

1. Restate the thesis or the main points of your essay.

2. State the broader implications or significance of your thesis.

3. Present a culminating example that pulls all of your arguments together in support of your thesis.

4. Make an educated prediction or outcome based on the arguments you presented.

5. End with a well-stated, satisfying flourish that echoes the soundness of your conclusion.

For a comprehensive discussion of these options, I suggest you read and study the “Concluding Paragraphs” page of the Capital Community College Foundation’s Guide to Grammar and Writing. It covers most of basic things that writers need to know about the subject, so there’s really not much I can add to it without sounding repetitive. Take time to study and internalize its prescriptions. Once you’ve done so, you’ll be on your way to developing the knack for knowing precisely when to stop your paragraphs from flowing and for bringing your articles of whatever kind to a satisfying close for your readers.