Between You & Me: Confessions of a Comma Queen

“Some public display of affection photos remind me of ‘Best In Show’ owners walking their dogs—except the relationship between one and their pet children is true—Sometimes some human PDAs really skeeve me out . . . the goo goo eye ones where ya can tell whom is top dog-oy vey maria Im cranky today”

 

 

Bitch, you be even crankier when you see this. I love the verb “skeeve,” and I get that “PDA” means “public display of affection” (though at first I thought it was a venereal disease), and I can do without hyphens in “the goo goo eye ones” but, again, the object of “ya can tell”—what can you tell?—is a clause, practically a sentence in itself: “who is top dog?”

 

I love the gritty sentiment behind these updates, but the effect is undercut for me by the grammar error sticking up like a chunk of flotsam in midstream. Here’s the takeaway: “who” does not change to “whom” just because it is in the middle of the sentence. The choice of “who” or “whom” is governed not by its role as the object of the sentence or the object of a preposition but by its role in the group of words that has been plugged into that position. Break it down: You can tell he (or she) is top dog. You would never say, “You can tell him (or her) is top dog.” That’s the point: “who” and “whom” are standing in for a pronoun: “who” stands in for “he, she, they, I, we”; “whom” stands in for “him, her, them, me, us.”

 

Incidentally, all of this applies more to written language than to spoken language. In spoken language, don’t take any chances: unless you are really sure where you’re going, use who (or whoever). And remember: “Who” does not change to “whom” just because it’s in the middle of the sentence.

 

The correct use of “whom” is easier than you think. When it is right, it is sublime. When it is wrong, it blocks your passage.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 5

 

COMMA COMMA COMMA COMMA, CHAMELEON

 

THE COMMA WAS REFINED BY Aldo Manuzio, a printer working in Venice, circa 1490. It was intended to prevent confusion by separating things. In the Greek, komma means “something cut off,” a segment. (Aldo was printing Greek classics during the High Renaissance. The comma flourished during the Renaissance. As the comma proliferated, it started generating confusion. Basically, there are two schools of thought: One plays by ear, using the comma to mark a pause, like dynamics in music; if you were reading aloud, the comma would suggest when to take a breath. The other uses punctuation to clarify the meaning of a sentence by illuminating its underlying structure. Each school believes that the other gets carried away. It can be tense and kind of silly, like the argument among theologians about how many angels can fit on the head of a pin. How many commas can fit into a sentence by Herman Melville? Or, closer to home, into a sentence from The New Yorker?

 

Even something as ostensibly simple as the serial comma can arouse strong feelings. The serial comma is the one before “and” in a series of three or more things. With the serial comma: My favorite cereals are Cheerios, Raisin Bran, and Shredded Wheat. Without the serial comma: I used to like Kix, Trix and Wheat Chex. (Question: Why, if there is alphabet soup, do we not have punctuation cereal? Would it be so hard to develop a high-fiber cereal comma that retained its shape in milk?) Proponents of the serial comma say that it is preferable because it prevents ambiguity, and I’ll go along with that. Also, I’m lazy, and I find it easier to use the serial comma consistently rather than stop every time I come to a series and register whether or not the comma before the “and” preceding the last item is actually preventing ambiguity. Pressed to come up with an example of a series that was unambiguously ambiguous without the serial comma, I couldn’t think of a good one. An ambiguous series proved so elusive that I wondered whether perhaps we could do without the serial comma after all. In my office, this is heresy, but I will say it anyway and risk being burned at the stake: Isn’t the “and” sufficient? After all, that’s what the other commas in a series stand for: “Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!” A comma preceding “and” is redundant. I was a comma apostate.

 

Fortunately, the Internet is busy with examples of series that are absurd without the serial comma:

 

“We invited the strippers, JFK and Stalin.”

 

(This has been illustrated online, and formed the basis of a two-part poll: for or against the serial comma, and which stripper had the better outfit, JFK or Stalin. The serial comma and Stalin won.)

 

“This book is dedicated to my parents, Ayn Rand and God.”

 

(Also widely quoted; variations on God’s mate include Hillary Clinton.)