I wrote an article about grammar pedantry a little while ago and a gentleman among the commenters took me to task for starting my sentences with conjunctions. And I think he may have meant it seriously. But maybe he was joking.
Some people have strong views on what grammar rules you must abide by. Others say it doesn’t matter as long as you make yourself understood. For my part, I like things to be correct and clear; and I think we do well to agree to observe some rules or conventions. But there are some ‘rules’ that exist for, frankly, no good reason…
1. Don’t start a sentence with a conjunction such as ‘and’ or ‘but’
This supposed rule has no strong historical grounding in English grammar. It doesn’t even go back all that far into the history of the English language. Conjunctions at the beginning of sentences are common in Old English texts.
For example, the King James Bible, published in 1611. “And God said, ‘Let there be light…’”. Genesis chapter 1 has 31 verses. Nearly all those verses are sentences beginning with “And”.
The ‘rule’ seems to have originated from an over-zealous application of some recommendations or guidelines by 18th-century grammarians, such as Robert Lowth, who attempted to make English conform to Latin rules (for reasons best known to themselves).
These guidelines somehow morphed into ‘rules’ in Victorian-era school grammars. And then some influential early 20th-century style guides got hold of them and perpetuated (among others) the ‘rule’ that you should avoid conjunctions at the start of sentences, particularly in formal writing. So the advice became entrenched in formal education and was rarely questioned.
But there is no good reason for it and most modern linguists and grammarians consider the rule to be a myth or a relic of over-prescriptive grammar. And present-day style guides don’t have a problem with starting a sentence with a conjunction. And that’s all there is to it.
So it’s fine. There is nothing wrong with starting a sentence with a conjunction.
2. Don’t split your infinitives
The idea that an infinitive is a thing to never split is probably attributable to Henry Alford, a dean of Canterbury Cathedral. In A Plea for the Queen’s English (1866), Alford wrote: “[A correspondent] gives as an instance, ‘to scientifically illustrate.’ But surely this is a practice entirely unknown to English speakers and writers. [It wasn’t at all unknown.—Ed.] It seems to me, that we ever regard the to of the infinitive as inseparable from its verb. And when we have already a choice between two forms of expression, ‘scientifically to illustrate,’ and ‘to illustrate scientifically,’ there seems no good reason for flying in the face of common usage.”
Hmm. Hardly a compelling argument. “No one else does it, so it must be incorrect” (and that’s not even true anyway). This is another made-up guideline that somehow morphed into a ‘rule’ in Victorian-era school grammars. And it’s stuck.
Consider the following sentences:
- The CEO aims to significantly increase the company’s revenue and market share over the next year.
- The CEO aims significantly to increase the company’s revenue and market share over the next year.
The version that avoids the split infinitive is a bit weird – do you agree?
If you really don’t like splitting your infinitives, you can usually find some other way to position your adverb, for example:
- The CEO aims to increase the company’s revenue and market share significantly over the next year.
Or you can even recast your sentence if you want to:
- The CEO aims to achieve a significant increase in the company’s revenue and market share over the next year.
But you don’t have to. Honestly. Just go by whatever best serves elegance and clarity.
To boldly go splitting infinitives
3. Do not use contractions such as “don’t” and “couldn’t”
And why shouldn’t you? I mean, really, what’s wrong with it? I haven’t a clue.
It probably goes back to the late 19th century, a time when there was a movement among grammarians and educators to establish ‘proper’ English usage. Influential figures like Richard Grant White and our friend Henry Alford again. They argued for a more formal, structured approach to grammar, which included the avoidance of contractions in formal writing.
Actually I think they have a bit of a point. If it is formal writing. It just depends on what you are writing. But it is not something to get worked up about.
4. Don’t end a sentence with a preposition
Some people say you shouldn’t end a sentence with a preposition – as I’ve done above in “… get worked up about.”
Again, this idea seems to have its roots in 18th- and 19th-century grammarians’ attempts to make English conform to Latin rules, which then fed into prescriptive grammar, and the ‘rule’ was reinforced by Victorian formality. I say it’s not worth continuing with.
Winston Churchill reportedly said something like, “This is the sort of English up with which I will not put.” In fact, it’s questionable whether he ever said that. Nevertheless, it’s a fine refutation.
5. You mustn’t say “the best of two”
Here’s another example from the same kind of origin. The experts of yesteryear got it into their heads that English comparatives and superlatives ought to work in the same way as Latin comparatives and superlatives. So you can have the better of two or the best of three. Or the worse of two or the worst of three. Or the prettier of two, the ugliest of three, etc.
I’m sure Dickens used to say “the best of two”, although I can’t find an example at the moment.
Anyway, I think the early prescriptivists won this one. This particular rule has become so embedded, I say that we should probably abide by it, at least in formal writing, because we risk appearing careless or ignorant if we don’t. Following this rule is the least of two evils – er, the lesser of two evils.
6. No sentence fragments
A sentence fragment is an incomplete thought. A sequence of words that looks like a sentence but is not really a sentence. The ‘rule’ that you should avoid sentence fragments originated in much the same way as the other ‘rules’ above.
A sentence fragment typically starts with a capital letter and ends with a full stop. But it is missing a subject, or a main verb, or both.
Examples
(1) Fragment with a verb but no subject
Hoping to secure a larger client base.
This fragment includes the verb “hoping”, but it lacks a subject to indicate who is hoping. A complete sentence might be: “Our team is hoping to secure a larger client base.”
(2) Fragment with a subject but no verb
The marketing team.
This fragment includes the subject “the marketing team” but does not contain a verb, making it an incomplete thought. A complete sentence might be: “The marketing team will present its findings next week.”
(3) Fragment with neither subject nor verb
During the annual review meeting.
This fragment has no subject and no verb. A complete sentence might be: “We will review these options during the annual review meeting.”
I don’t see any problem with sentence fragments. As long as the meaning is clear from the context.
Sentence fragments are pretty common these days. Perhaps because of social media and character limits, which have sometimes forced us to prune our verbiage until it’s become a habit. You’ll often see a post saying something like “Excited to announce my new role.” In this case, it might actually read better if you started it with “I’m”. Up to you.
7. Don’t muddle who and whom
Actually, I agree with this rule. In the main.
Some people sometimes struggle to know which to use. It’s simple: who is a subject; whom is an object. If you’re not sure, the easy way is to try replacing “who/whom” with “he” and “him” in turn. One will sound natural. The other one will sound wrong. Go for the one that sounds natural.
There are possible exceptions. For example, the sentence “Remember who it’s for” should really be “Remember whom it’s for”. You wouldn’t say, “It’s for he/she/they.” You’d say, “It’s for him/her/them.” But in this and similar instances it may sound over-formal and clunky to write “whom”. I say it’s fine to bend the rule.
8. Don’t use Oxford commas
The Oxford comma (also known as the serial comma) is the comma placed before the conjunction at the end of a list. It can serve to clarify the separation between list items.
Some people will tell you that the Oxford comma is ungrammatical. Nonsense.
Sometimes you definitely need one, sometimes you definitely don’t, and other times it doesn’t much matter either way.
Consider the following sentence:
- My car is big, red and fast
- My car is big, red, and fast
In this simple list, it doesn’t matter. It’s down to your personal preference as a writer, or your house style if you have one to follow.
But how about this sentence:
- They are available in a choice of flavours: cheese and onion and salt and vinegar.
Cheese and onion, and salt and vinegar
This sentence ideally needs a comma after “onion”, otherwise the reader has to do the work of figuring out how what goes with what and how many flavours there are. You might say that it’s obvious, but it’s not always, as in this example:
- They are available in a choice of colours: red and yellow and black and white.
Here, the reader can’t be sure how many colour combinations there are and which colour goes with which, and just has to guess.
For a more subtle example, consider this sentence copied from a recent news article:
- We now have an increasing population due to migration, lower labour participation and an exponential growth in welfare costs.
As it stands, this sentence seems to imply that the increase in population is somehow driven by lower labour participation and a growth in welfare costs, in addition to being caused by migration. It’s actually meant to be read as a list of three separate items and, I suggest, would be better punctuated as follows:
- We now have an increasing population due to migration, lower labour participation, and an exponential growth in welfare costs.
My advice is to use the serial comma where it’s necessary or helpful to make your meaning clear; and where it’s not necessary, just use your judgement as to what flows best. Don’t listen to those who tell you it’s ungrammatical. It ain’t.
The English language has no official governing body. Ultimately, who’s to say which rules we should follow and which ones should be discredited? As long as you make choices that don’t seem too bizarre or ill-informed, and as long as you’re consistent. Consistency. That’s the main thing.
Consider following an editorial style guide. I can point you in the direction of a style guide.