Bryan Garner – Oregon State Bar Legal Publications

Grammar Can Be Funny, But Not All Grammarians Are

Posted on March 4, 2016 | by Linda Kruschke | 2 Comments

By Linda Kruschke, Director of Legal Publications

This book review was originally written for the ACLEA (Association for Continuing Legal Education) newsletter called In the Loop. We are sharing it here today in celebration of National Grammar Day.

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If you work in legal publications (or any type of publications for that matter), grammar is important. Whether you are a legal editor, a copy editor, or a proofreader, you have to be a little bit pedantic about grammar, punctuation, and style.

But sometimes you just like to focus on the humorous side of grammar (yes, there really is a humorous side of grammar!). Sometimes you like to read books like the classic Eats, Shoots & Leaves by Lynne Truss. Or sometimes you enjoy the humor in more traditional grammar texts like Garner’s Dictionary of Legal Usage by Bryan Garner.

When I was asked to write a book review for In the Loop, I decided it would be fun to share a different humorous grammar book with the ACLEA folks, one that the legal publications and seminars people could both appreciate. So imagine my delight when I discovered Grammar Snobs Are Great Big Meanies by June Casagrande. I cracked it open (okay, I actually opened it on my Kindle, but don’t tell my fellow legal pubs folks) and started with the Note from the Author.

At the outset, Casagrande makes a distinction between grammar geeks—people who are fascinated by grammar and word usage—and grammar snobs—people who like to rub their superior grammar knowledge (which is apparently actually not that superior) in other people’s faces for spite. She claims to be the former, but proves quite early on in the book to be of the latter ilk.

Her mean-spirited attack of grammar gurus such as James Kilpatrick, Lynne Truss, and Bryan Garner, to name but a few, took me quite aback. It was not at all what I expected and not at all funny (at least not to me). In her first chapter, “A Snob for All Seasons,” she spends five pages attacking Kilpatrick as well as William Saffire. She ends with a single page on the grammar lesson of the chapter, using as an illustration a sentence involving a bug crawling up these grammarian’s butts. While the lesson was accurate on the use of “‘s” with compound subjects, it was hard to see through the unfunny language of the example.

In addition, she uses a fair amount of sexual humor in instances that are unwarranted and merely gratuitous. For example, in the discussion of the difference between “to lay” and “to lie,” she uses an example that involves police requiring suspects to “lay” rather than “lie” on the floor at a crime scene. Rather than focus on the everyday difference between these words, Casagrande homes in on the slang or vulgar meaning of the word “lay,” to have sexual intercourse. Her attempt at humor was lost on me and her lesson was not particularly helpful if one was truly confused about which of these two verbs to use.

On a positive note, I did find confirmation that my favorite birthday song does use the words “who” and “whom” correctly.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I confess I couldn’t finish this whole book, but I did slug through a good portion of it hoping to find a funny nugget. No such luck. All I found were insults to anyone who thinks that being pedantic (i.e. excessively concerned with minor details or rules) about grammar is a useful thing. As a Director of Legal Publications, pedantic editors are what I look for when hiring new staff. In legal publications consistency and accuracy are important; one can easily be pedantic without being a grammar snob. Likewise, as Casagrande illustrates, one can be a grammar snob (and meanie) without being particularly pedantic.

In short, I don’t recommend this book for the grammar lessons or the humor. I’ll keep looking for another good humorous grammar book to recommend.

Editorial Sloth, Lists, Etc.

Posted on February 25, 2016 | by Linda Kruschke | 2 Comments

By Yasha Renner, Attorney Editor

It was a Friday, almost lunch time, and I was nearing the end of a chapter I was editing for the 2016 revision of Damages. I couldn’t figure out why the chapter’s author decided to include only four of the nine contractor designations cited in ORS 701.081 when they all seemed applicable. Does the author think less of locksmiths or home inspectors? I wondered.

Here’s the sentence:

As part of the registration process, a $10,000, $15,000, or $20,000 surety bond must be posted, depending on the contractor’s designation as a residential general contractor, a residential developer, a residential specialty contractor, or a residential limited contractor. ORS 701.068; ORS 701.081.

At a loss, a sly thought entered my mind; I could finish the sentence with an etc. That way I wouldn’t have to bother the author with a stupid question, nor would I have to endanger the assertion by adding the remaining actors, who (I am sure) were excluded for noble reasons. But to act on this temptation, I soon learned, would have been quite wrong. And just as I resolved to do so my conscience spoke, accusing me of editorial sloth—a capital vice.

So I did what I often do when faced with a question of editorial ethics: I turn to Bryan Garner, our department’s de facto editor in chief, who, with meekness and charity, invoked the following French proverb: “God save us from a lawyer’s et cetera.” Garner’s Dictionary of Legal Usage 331 (3rd ed. 2011). And thus, with the help of a higher power (i.e., a style guide), I was instantly freed from the enemy’s grip. “Still,” he counseled, “it would be foolish to lay down an absolute proscription against using etc., for often one simply cannot practicably list all that should be listed in a given context.” Id.

Alright, then, I thought to myself. I was relieved to know that etc. is not malum in se. But does the context here sanction its use? Certainly not, since I could list all of the designations. “Hideous!” my right-brain suddenly cried out, clearly bothered by the thought; and with that I yielded to its complaint. This sentence had to be pretty.

What’s an attorney editor to do?

Let’s just say I banished the offending half-truth. But that doesn’t really matter. What matters is that we lawyers don’t miss the moral here, which has nothing to do with style or grammar and everything to do with cultivating good habits, namely diligence and veracity, i.e., completeness. Because an incomplete thought, if aired, could become a scandal to others who, for instance, might be tempted to complete it for you, etc., etc.

Grammatical Mistake Leads to Animal Neglect

Posted on June 25, 2015 | by Linda Kruschke | Leave a Comment

By Dean Land, Legal Publications Attorney Editor

By my own unscientific methods, I’ve determined that “comprise” is the most misused verb in the English language. That kind of pervasive grammatical error has serious ramifications for an editor like me. When I read the sentence, “The Oregon Supreme Court is comprised of seven justices,” I get hung up. That sentence takes over my conscious thought. Priorities go out the window, and I forget to pick up dog food on the way home.

So what’s the problem? Many writers confuse the verb “comprise” with the verb “compose.” As stated in The Chicago Manual of Style, “To comprise is ‘to be made up of, to include’ {the whole comprises the parts}. To compose is ‘to make up, to form the substance of something’ {the parts compose the whole}.” Usage hawk Bryan Garner provides the correct passive-voice phrasing: “the whole is composed of the parts; the parts are comprised in the whole.” He points out that the phrase “comprised of” is “always wrong.”

Following that logic, we have a number of different ways to express the same thought:

The Oregon Supreme Court comprises seven justices.
Seven justices are comprised in the Oregon Supreme Court.
Seven justices compose the Oregon Supreme Court.
The Oregon Supreme Court is composed of seven justices.

Some are more awkward than others, but all are correct. Most importantly, none of them will cause my dogs to go hungry.

Because misery loves company, I’m happy to report that software engineer Bryan Henderson has compulsively removed every single instance of “comprised of,” numbering in the tens of thousands, on Wikipedia. I just hope that guy doesn’t have pets.

Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day? Probably not.

Posted on April 17, 2015 | by Linda Kruschke | Leave a Comment

by Ian Pisarcik, Legal Publications Attorney Editor

The writer David Foster Wallace was so fond of words that he used to lie awake for hours reading the dictionary and circling the ones he liked best: Maugre, Tarantism, Ruck, Sciolism, Primipara. He is a man who once wrote “I do things like get in a taxi and say, ‘The library, and step on it.’” His desire to use uncommon words was matched by his desire to know the meaning of those uncommon words. Many lawyers, it seems at times, share only the first desire. Nowhere is this more evident than in the enduring use of the word shall.

Lawyers rely heavily on the word shall, and while the most common interpretation of the word is that it denotes a mandatory action (i.e., must), lawyers do not consistently use it this way. As lawyer and lexicographer Bryan Garner points out, “that’s why courts in virtually every English-speaking jurisdiction have held—by necessity—that shall means may in some contexts, and vice-versa.” Let’s look at some examples, shall we?

“No person shall operate a motorboat at a speed greater than is reasonable.” If shall means must, then this sentence is telling us that no person must operate a motorboat at a speed greater than reasonable. In other words, you’re not required to operate a motorboat at a speed greater than is reasonable, but if you want to, knock yourself out. This is clearly not the intended meaning. What the author is trying to say is: “No person may operate a motorboat at a speed greater than is reasonable.” In other words, you are not allowed to do this.
“The sender shall have fully complied with the requirement to send notice, when the sender obtains electronic confirmation that the transmission has been received.” Is shall denoting a mandatory action here? Of course not. The sentence is simply defining when the sender has fully complied: “The sender has complied . . . when the sender obtains electronic confirmation. . .”
“The agreement shall be terminated.” A duty must be imposed on a capable actor. An agreement is not a capable actor. What this sentence is intended to mean is that the agreement is terminated (presumably by someone or some action, but that’s a post for another day).

The word shall is rarely used consistently throughout a legal document. And the result is that, as Garner puts it, “the word breeds litigation.” According to Garner, the multivolume Words and Phrases, published by Thomson Reuters, contains 107 pages of small-type cases interpreting the word shall. Garner hoped to cut down on some of this litigation when he revised the civil, appellate, and criminal federal rules, and dropped the word shall completely. The editors at the Oregon State Bar have chosen to do the same. We shall banish the word from our vocabulary, and don’t get us started on witnesseth . . .

Lesser-known Punctuation Rules

Posted on November 18, 2014 | by Linda Kruschke | Leave a Comment

By Ian Pisarcik, Legal Publications Attorney Editor

Let’s start the week off right with some lesser-known punctuation rules.

Punctuation and closing quotation marks

Most people agree that periods and commas precede closing quotation marks (let’s forget the loveably misguided British for a moment). However, confusion abounds when colons and semicolons enter the mix. To clear things up, colons and semicolons (along with question marks and exclamation points) follow closing quotation marks unless they appear in the original quoted matter. Moreover, all punctuation should appear outside quotation marks when distinguishing words to be typed. For example:

President Barak Obama invited me to the presidential inauguration to recite the lyrics to my hit song “Peace in the World”; instead I lectured the nation on the rules of punctuation. I was able to record a video of the event before a large man with dark sunglasses grabbed me by the shoulder and asked me how I expected to make any friends. To view the video, go to my homepage, click on the search function, and type “Ian attends the inaugural address”.
Using a comma before “such as” and “including”

Many people automatically place a comma before “such as” and “including.” But a comma is only necessary when followed by a nonrestrictive, nonessential phrase or clause. For example:

Songs such as “Hands on the Wheel” and “Can I Sleep in Your Arms” appear on Willie Nelson’s 1975 album.

Some songs, such as “Hands on the Wheel” and “Can I Sleep in Your Arms,” are commonly referred to as old-country or classic-country songs.
Punctuating one-word questions

When a question consists of a single word, the question mark can be omitted. For clarity, the word should be italicized. For example:

Joe asked himself why.
Hyphenating phrasal adjectives

Phrasal adjectives are almost always hyphenated. As Bryan Garner put it, “[I]f two or more consecutive words make sense only when understood together as an adjective modifying a noun, those words should be hyphenated.” Thus, “high-school dropout” and “first-year graduate student” are proper. Naturally, there are exceptions, including when a phrase contains a proper noun (e.g., “the famous World War II battle”).
The interrobang
To round off all this punctuation fun, I thought I’d introduce a lesser-known punctuation mark. Ladies and gentlemen: the interrobang‽ The interrobang is an overlapping question mark and exclamation point. It was invented in 1962 and managed to make its way onto many typewriters and into several dictionaries. It even made its way into the default typefaces in the Apple and Microsoft operating systems. While its rise is admirable, I wouldn’t expect it to see it on BarBooks™ any time soon.