I'm five chapters into the most recent nerdy nonfiction book about language, and it's already a treat. In You Are What You Speak: Grammar Grouches, Language Laws and the Politics of Identity, Richard Lane Greene sets stage for an accessible, timely look at the subtle (and not-so-subtle) messages behind the rants of language purists the world over (the book doesn't focus only on English) and has already included several impassioned pleas for seeing all language as ever-evolving tools of communication and connection as opposed to gates that keep some on the "inside" and others in the linguistic hinterlands.Don't let the lengthy title fool you. The writing is general-audience friendly and so far has been full of those amusing language anecdotes books of this type are known for. Greene wastes no time pillorying easy targets like the "no split infinitive" and "don't end a sentence with a preposition" rules, then makes an intriguing case in defense of the double negative. He is critical of two authors on language I enjoy, Bill Bryson and Lynn Truss. But his criticisms are worthy and support his argument that languages change--that's what they do. There was never a "golden age" when English (or French or Arabic or Chinese) was spoken the way some people think it should be, and implying otherwise is often a cover for snobbery at best, downright racism at worst.
Every sentence in a book like this is a delight to me. Because, as Greene also points out, this topic--how people should speak or write and who gets to decide--is much beloved of those who make language their living, as I do. (The rest of the world just uses language as they need and gets on with their lives.) In fact, I'm charged with a sacred task, according to grammar grouches everywhere. It is my job to pass down the language to the next generation, to ensure they know the standard-form-of-the-moment in a way that will open doors, showcase their brilliant young minds and brighten their futures. I take this job seriously, as anyone who's known me for five minutes figures out. However, this book has made me realize why I'm an eager writing teacher rather than an intimidated one. Because our language is evolving at such a brisk clip, my job is to make sure my students become able communicators. This doesn't mean anything goes, but it does mean that I teach them how to write with that goal in mind. I teach them the grammar they need to present themselves as literate and informed. I teach them punctuation in the service helping their reader understand their work. (If you've ever tried to read a student paper without a single period, you know what I mean). It sounds obvious, but you'd be surprised how many people, adults and students, still think writing instruction requires memorizing grammar rules and diagramming sentences before any actual composition should be allowed to take place. When, in reality, composition and communication are the only things that matter.
(Case in point: Technically, that last sentence is a fragment. I chose to put a period after 'place' and write a single dependent clause--starting with 'when'-- in order to emphasize my point at the end of this paragraph. How much does that bother you? Or did you even notice? My point exactly.)
Don't panic! My students know what a dependent clause is and avoid leaving them lonely in paragraphs. But I would throw a party if one of them became a fluid enough writer to use a dependent clause for emphasis. As tools go, languages are very expressive. They wouldn't be the least bit useful if they weren't.
Which brings me to the final point from the book that I want to share: all languages are equal, in that every single language has exactly what it needs to express any idea or thought. Period. And this isn't just me being all hippie-woo-woo. This is a fact agreed upon by linguists, and one that more people need to file it under "things that are just true" like the sun rising in the east. If we all did that, it would save a lot of political and cultural turmoil, not to mention a tiresome dose of backhanded racism. For example, speakers of French (or English or German or Russian or...) wouldn't spend so much time extolling the unique virtues of their language whilst casting aspersions on all the
others (and, by implication, their speakers). Languages with clear grammar and usage rules like Black English (aka "Ebonics") and other traditionally lower status, so-called 'dialects' would garner respect, along with their millions of native speakers. (I will go toe-to-toe with anyone who doesn't agree with me about Black English, which I do not speak fluently, but I love what that language has done with the past perfect tense, among other things...) Finally, we would be able to celebrate all of our languages as the miracles they are rather than build walls around them to "protect" them from encroachments from the foreign, the young and the outsider. Now wouldn't that be something...
