Cover image for The right word in the right place at the right time : wit and wisdom from the popular "On language" column in The New York times magazine
Title:
The right word in the right place at the right time : wit and wisdom from the popular "On language" column in The New York times magazine
Author:
Safire, William, 1929-2009.
Personal Author:
Publication Information:
New York : Simon & Schuster, [2004]

©2004
Physical Description:
436 pages ; 24 cm
General Note:
Includes indexes.
Language:
English
Added Uniform Title:
New York times magazine.
ISBN:
9780743242448
Format :
Book

Available:*

Library
Call Number
Material Type
Home Location
Status
Item Holds
Searching...
PE1421 .S2334 2004 Adult Non-Fiction Non-Fiction Area
Searching...
Searching...
PE1421 .S2334 2004 Adult Non-Fiction Central Closed Stacks
Searching...

On Order

Summary

Summary

From Safire, America's most beloved pundit of the English language, comes a recent compendium of his On Language columns from The New York Times Magazine.


Author Notes

William Safire was born on Dec. 17, 1929. He attended Syracuse University, but dropped out after two years. He began his career as a reporter for The New York Herald Tribune. He had also been a radio and television producer and a U.S. Army correspondent. From 1955 to 1960, Safire was vice president of a public relations firm in New York City, and then became president of his own firm. He was responsible for bringing Nixon and Nikita Khrushchev together in 1959. In 1968, he joined the campaign of Richard Nixon as a senior White House speechwriter for Nixon. Safire joined The New York Times in 1973 as a political columnist. He also writes a Sunday column, On Language, which has appeared in The New York Times Magazine since 1979. This column on grammar, usage, and etymology has led to the publication of 10 books and made him the most widely read writer on the English language. William Safire was the winner of the 1978 Pulitzer Prize for distinguished commentary. He is a trustee for Syracuse University. Since 1995 he has served as a member of the Pulitzer Board. He is the author of Freedom (1987), a novel of Lincoln and the Civil War. His other novels include Full Disclosure (1977), Sleeper Spy (1995) and Scandalmonger (2000). His other titles include a dictionary, a history, anthologies and commentaries.

(Bowker Author Biography)


Reviews 3

Booklist Review

Pulitzer Prize winner Safire is a prolific writer (with a total of 25 titles to his credit), and his latest book is his eighth one on language--no surprise there, since he has become one of the leading experts on proper usage. His home base is the New York Times Magazine0 , where he writes the weekly "On Language" column. This new compilation of recent columns demonstrates in both erudite and witty terms why so many readers fondly turn to him for edifying discussions about how English is currently being spoken and written--and, as he so often finds, not in the correct manner. His analyses of colloquialisms, Americanisms, brand-new meanings, and connotations of the hour are based on the way people express themselves, ranging from what politicians say to how television personalities talk to the ways just plain old you and I converse. There is a lot to think about here for the language lover, for there is much subtlety in Safire's examinations of word usage; for instance, one could be up all night reading and pondering his discussion of the difference between seasonable0 and seasonal0 . But, inarguably, there are certainly worse reasons to be up all night. Sure to be popular where his previous books on language have been requested. --Brad Hooper Copyright 2004 Booklist


Publisher's Weekly Review

Safire has published more than a dozen, often bestselling, collections (No Uncertain Terms, etc.) of his acerbic weekly columns on the English language. In his crisply witty commentaries, he does more than elucidate the origins of slang or correct common grammatical mistakes: he alerts readers to the rhetorical maneuvers of our politicians and public figures as only a former speechwriter can. Bush's phrase "Leave no child behind," the atomic origins of "ground zero," the difference between "antiterrorism" and "counterterrorism," and Tony Blair's diplomatic use of a moveable modifier in an Israeli speech all occasion the use of Safire's talent for analyzing the speech of our decision makers. His gift for plucking examples of more general shifts in word usage from the most obscure news reports and for picking up on debates surrounding word use is unmatched. Several of his columns cross-examine Supreme Court wording, and this volume includes entertainingly vigilant ripostes to Safire from Justice Antonin Scalia. Safire is adept at rooting out literary influences and half-remembered poetic allusions, tracking the appearances of, for example, Lewis Carroll's delightful verb "galumph." Unfortunately, Safire's command of foreign languages is less than reliable, as he records Jacques Barzun and others pointing out. And he can veer into chauvinism (for instance, calling for the world to adopt American-style layout for the day's date). Yet the investigations gathered here, each in an unfailingly droll tone, will instruct and delight all readers who share Safire's love of language and its endless permutations. (July) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved


Library Journal Review

More "On Language" columns for Safire's fans. (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.


Excerpts

Excerpts

Introduction We will come to sodomy in a moment. To stagger together through today's column about grammatical possessiveness, you and I must agree on the difference between a gerund and a participle. Take the word dancing . It starts out as a form of a verb: "Look, Ma, I'm dancing! " When that word is used as an adjective to modify a noun -- "look at that dancing bear!" -- it's called a participle. But when the same word is used as a noun -- "I see the bear, and its dancing isn't so hot" -- then the word is classified as a gerund. (From the Latin gerundum , rooted in gerere , "to bear, to carry," because the gerund, though a noun, seems to bear the action of a verb.) We give the same word these different names to tell us what it's doing and what its grammatical needs are. Two great grammarians had a titanic spat in the 1920s over the use of the possessive in this sentence: "Women having the vote reduces men's political power." H. W. Fowler derided what he called "the fused participle" as "grammatically indefensible" and said it should be "Women's having"; Otto Jespersen cited famous usages, urged dropping the possessive and called Fowler a "grammatical moralizer." Comes now Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia with the latest manifestation of this struggle. An Associated Press account of his stinging dissent in Lawrence v. Texas, in which the Court struck down that state's anti-sodomy law, quoted Scalia out of context as writing, "I have nothing against homosexuals," which seemed condescending. His entire sentence, though, was not: "I have nothing against homosexuals, or any other group, promoting their agenda through normal democratic means." Note the lack of apostrophes after homosexuals and group to indicate possession; Fowler would have condemned that as a "fused participle." Such loosey-goosey usage from the conservative Scalia, of all people? "When I composed the passage in question," the justice informs me, "I pondered for some time whether I should be perfectly grammatical and write 'I have nothing against homosexuals', or any other group's, promoting their agenda,' etc. The object of the preposition 'against,' after all, is not 'homosexuals who are promoting,' but rather 'the promoting of (in the sense of by ) homosexuals.' "I have tried to be rigorously consistent in using the possessive before the participle," Scalia notes, "when it is the action, rather than the actor, that is the object of the verb or preposition (or, for that matter, the subject of the sentence)." But what about his passage in Lawrence , in which he failed to follow Fowler and fused the participle? "I concluded that because of the intervening phrase 'or any other group,' writing 'homosexuals' " -- with the apostrophe indicating possession -- "(and hence 'any other group's') would violate what is perhaps the first rule of English usage: that no construction should call attention to its own grammatical correctness. Finding no other formulation that could make the point in quite the way I wanted, I decided to be ungrammatical instead of pedantic." But his attempt to be a regular guy backfired. In a jocular tone, Scalia observes: "God -- whom I believe to be a strict grammarian as well as an Englishman -- has punished me. The misquotation would have been more difficult to engineer had there been an apostrophe after 'homosexuals.' I am convinced that in this instance the AP has been (unwittingly, I am sure) the flagellum Dei to recall me from my populist, illiterate wandering. (You will note that I did not say 'from me wandering.')" My does beat me before that gerund wandering . Robert Burchfield, editor of the third edition of Fowler's Modern English Usage, writes, "The possessive with gerund is on the retreat, but its use with proper names and personal nouns and pronouns persists in good writing." Now let's parse Scalia's self-parsing. In his refusal to say "from me wandering," wandering is a gerund. When a personal pronoun comes in front of a gerund, the possessive form is called for: say my , not me . This avoidance of a fused participle makes sense: you say about the above-mentioned bear "I like his dancing," not "I like him dancing," because you want to stress not the bear but his action in prancing about. In Scalia's dissent in the Texas sodomy case, promoting is a gerund, the object of the preposition against . His strict-construction alternative, using apostrophes to indicate possession -- "against homosexuals', or any other group's, promoting" -- is correct but clunky. He was right to avoid it, and is wrong to castigate himself for eschewing clunkiness. There would have been another choice, however: put the gerund ahead of the possessors. Try this: "I have nothing against the promoting of their agenda by homosexuals, or by any other group, through normal democratic means." That would not only avoid the confusing apostrophes, but follows "I have nothing against" with its true object, the gerund promoting -- and would make it impossible for any reporter to pull out a condescending "I have nothing against homosexuals." Regarding your proposed solution to my gerundial problem (to wit, "I have nothing against the promoting of their agenda by homosexuals, or by any other group, through normal democratic means"): It is so obvious that of course I considered it. Two problems. (1) I do not like to have a relative pronoun preceding its antecedent, as in "the promoting of their agenda by homosexuals." (2) More importantly, English remains a language in which emphasis is largely conveyed by word order, and the emphasis in my sentence was upon homosexuals' promoting, not upon (where your alternative places it) the promoting by homosexuals. Surely you can sense the difference. Justice Antonin Scalia Supreme Court of the United States Washington, D.C. Copyright (c) 2004 by The Cobbett Corporation From "A" Acronymania. Who affixes glorious names to acts of Congress -- with words whose initial capital letters spell out a hard-selling acronym? When you ask a spokesman for the House Judiciary Committee who in the vast federal establishment came up with the USA PATRIOT Act, you get a bravely bureaucratic, "It was a collaborative bipartisan effort of the full committee." That'll be the day. When you press further, you discover that a partial coiner was a determinedly anonymous staff member of the Senate Judiciary Committee who called the initial antiterrorism statute the Uniting and Strengthening America Act. (USA -- get it?) But USA is a set of initial letters pronounced individually, not forming an acronym that can be pronounced as a word or is already a word. The key to infusing the quickly drawn legislation with a rousing title in which the flag fairly flapped came from House Judiciary. A junior staff member there named Chris Cylke achieved acronymic immortality by coming up with this inspiring moniker: Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Intercept and Obstruct Terrorism Act of 2001. Put it all together, and it spells PATRIOT. Now join the House contribution with the Senate's name, and you get Uniting and Strengthening America by Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Intercept and Obstruct Terrorism -- the USA PATRIOT bill, promptly signed by President Bush into law and, with a label like that, hard to criticize in any way. This posed a challenge to the professional acronym-creators at the Pentagon, home of FATE (Fuse Arming Test Equipment, though often embarrassingly confused with a different program, Female Acceleration Tolerance Enhancement). Within that Puzzle Palace, an accidental acronym was formed when the phrase Global War on Terrorism became popular among military briefers and point-sheet writers. This group of words was initialized, as is the custom with all Department of Defense phrases; unfortunately, it produced GWOT, universally pronounced with a rising inflection as "Gee-what?" The image it projects is of a brass hat scratching his head, however, which is why the phrase may be dropped from internal DOD communications. More recently, the Students for Global Justice and other opponents of globalization who demonstrated peacefully at the World Economic Forum in New York were organized under the banner of the Anti-Capitalist Convergence. However, the initials ACC hold no meaning for anyone outside the NCAA's Atlantic Coast Conference, and capitalism is not the dirty word it used to be. To deal with questions raised by the bigwigs huddling in the Waldorf-Astoria, some anarchists, Marxists and other image-makers converged to create International ANSWER. The title is an acronym of Act Now to Stop War and End Racism. Executives inside the Waldorf suspected that the demonstrators created the title to fit the word. Some acronyms are standing the test of time. In 1960, as optical scientists were studying maser -- from Microwave Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation -- along came the bright idea of amplifying a highly coherent beam of light, promptly dubbed a laser . (Tangent: Will somebody explain to me why every focus is now laser-focused? Lasers can guide, ignite, heat, drive and print, but focus? This is the hottest compound adjective around today, leaving all other focuses fuzzy. In Enron's 2000 annual report, the company claimed to be " laser-focused on earnings per share," at which point I should have become suspicious. End of tangent; this column is determinedly laser-unfocused. ) In Jennet Conant's book Tuxedo Park, about a social setting in which key scientists worked during World War II, the origin of radar is recounted: United States Army scientists used RPF, for "radio position finding," while the British preferred R.D.F., for "radio direction finding." The Navy liked "radio detection and ranging," or RADAR, which the British accepted by 1943. That's a partial stump word, using a first syllable and then initials; a purer stump word is hazmats , familiar to drivers of trucks containing nitroglycerine and similarly hazardous materials. A pure acronym -- NIMBY, "not in my backyard" -- long ago took hold among zoning lawyers and environmentalists. MADD -- Mothers Against Drunk Driving -- has become well known, spoofed by DAM, Mothers Against Dyslexia. The recent spate of acronymania (and do not write that as acronymphomania) can be combated only by resolute ridicule. A cartoon in Punch showed marchers under a banner titled COCOA, the Council to Outlaw Contrived and Outrageous Acronyms. This was topped by Jack Rosenthal's satire in the New York Times calling for the Action Committee to Reform Our Nation's Youth Morals. Several years ago I described a condition in professional voice users analogous to exercise asthma. That condition is not related to exercise itself, but rather to the airway drying that is associated with hyperventilation from exercise. We noted that some singers, who have an exquisite sensitivity to subtle changes in airflow, had an analogous condition. Even though they might have had no other signs of asthma, when they were treated, their voice issues improved. I labeled this Airway Reactivity Induces Asthma in Singers (ARIAS). John R. Cohn, MD Thomas Jefferson University Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Adjust That Season. Alistair Cooke rang me up to say, "Do something about seasonable when you mean seasonal ." (I use the Britishism rang me up instead of phoned because my nonagenarian friend is a BBC stalwart.) When I wrote recently that a week in January had been " unseasonably warm," another reader, John Connor, e-mailed: "Shouldn't the word be unseasonally ? To me, unseasonable implies that you can't add salt or pepper." No; as even the most roundheeled permissivists admit, "There ain't no unseasonal ." Seasonable means "normal for that time of the year" -- icy in February and muggy in August. I am now shopping for cruise clothes because that is what will soon be seasonable , although cruises make me seasick. By extension, it has come to mean "apt, timely, opportune." Contrariwise, seasonal has nothing to do with such suitability; rather, its meaning is "occurring in a particular season of the year," like " seasonal unemployment." That honking you hear overhead is the " seasonal migration of geese." If you're talkin' winter, spring, summer or fall, you're talkin' seasonal; only if you're talkin' about what's right and proper for those times are you correct to use seasonable . Just as seasonable is a big word with weather forecasters, seasonal is a favorite of economists. The great economist Herbert Stein, familiar with the works of T. S. Eliot, used the right word many years ago when he seasoned his prediction to taste: "The poet tells us that April is the cruelest month, but seasonally adjusted, January is the cruelest month." The Agnostic Bit. "Bits are agnostic ," Bill Gates, self-dethroned boss of Microsoft, told Forbes's ASAP magazine. "They don't care how they get where they are going -- only that they arrive in the right order and at the right moment." William Marmon of Chevy Chase, Maryland, demands a ruling as soon as possible: "Has agnostic -- 'holding the belief that the ultimate reality on matters such as the existence of God is unknowable' -- been successfully morphed by high tech to mean 'indifferent'? Everywhere one hears the word used in this perverted manner. Where do you stand?" Hier stehe ich, in the phrase of one unwaveringly opinionated Worms dieter. In theology and usage, I react religiously. The etymology of agnostic is plain. It's Greek for "not known." Here's how it was coined to describe the position held by people who are neither atheists nor believers: "It was suggested by Professor [Thomas] Huxley at a party...one evening in 1869, in my hearing," wrote R. H. Hutton in 1881. "He took it from St. Paul's mention of the altar to 'the Unknown God.' " Henry Kissinger, in his 1979 memoirs, The White House Years, was among the first to give the word a metaphoric stretch: "I favored European unity, but I was agnostic about the form it should take." The intended meaning (I have always been able to read Henry's mind) was more "noncommittal" than either "undecided" or "indifferent." In 1983 Warren Buffett, the investor, treated the word as a verbal shrug: "I look at stocks, not markets. I am a market agnostic ." Broadbandniks in the computer world have adopted that stretch toward neutrality. "We will deliver 'infrastructure agnostic ' solutions," announced Steven Francesco, CEO of N(x) Networks, "that can handle both voice and data and be deployed over virtually any network." (The odd-looking company name is pronounced "nex" or "nix"; the new agnostics, professing a hands-off attitude, sometimes take a negative approach.) Another computer executive, holding that the alliance of Dell and Red Hat came as no surprise, commented, "They've always been operating-system agnostic ." At Microsoft, Gates's usage gives the reheated term about bits a sense of "indifferent" to the point of "uncaring." Can we ever know if this new meaning -- as in "Frankly, Scarlett, I'm agnostic " -- will overtake the theological sense? Sure we can. Give the voguish jargon a little time; this anomie-tooism will pass because it is a highbrow term that lacks specificity. Neutral passively takes no side; noncommittal suggests a more active refusal to take a side; indifferent describes a mild state of apathy; unconcerned imputes aloofness; and uncaring has a hint of cruelty. But the new agnostic wanders all over the lot. Copyright (c) 2004 by The Cobbett Corporation Excerpted from The Right Word in the Right Place at the Right Time: Wit and Wisdom from the Popular on Language Column in the New York Times Magazine by William Safire All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.