Given its rich and complex nature, it’s perhaps unsurprising that the English language has such a plethora of staunch guardians. We all know someone who’s irked beyond measure by a muddled ‘there’ and ‘they’re’, or disproportionately piqued by the incorrect use of the phrase ‘begs the question’.
But all languages, not just English, are organic; they change – sometimes almost out of recognition – over time. Anyone who studied Chaucer at school will know that a few hundred years can create linguistic chasms.
Of course, there are those who see the natural ebb and flow of English as something to be defended against; that any change in the language constitutes an attack – or worse: a dumbing-down.
There have been several stories in the press recently about language and its use and abuse.
Firstly, there was the case of a real “Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells”, as Stefan Gatward took the law into his own hands to restore an apostrophe to one of the town’s road signs.
The extreme abridgement of some of literature’s masterpieces makes it into today’s Guardian. Simple synopses aren’t enough for the authors of a new compendium of the greats: literary classics from Hemingway to Shakespeare have been reduced to 20 tweets or fewer for Twitterature (one imagines Hardy might just be turning in his grave).
And, not to be outdone, the Telegraph puts together a list of crimes against syntactical style: for those who have never had the pleasure of reading anything by Dan Brown, the listing of his 20 clumsiest phrases probably won’t encourage them to do so.
Whilst all these cases might stir some sympathy in many, for those of us whose life centres round the communication of messages, we should remember that language is, at its most basic, a tool. Its potential to be nuanced, brutal and beautiful in equal measure can’t detract from the fact.
And, whilst it pains me to say this (being known as something of a grammar stickler in Van offices), as long as meaning is conveyed correctly between a speaker (or writer) and listener (or reader), then language has served its purpose. Whether it’s elaborate and beautiful, or punctuated in an orthodox manner, is something of a moot point.
Not that it’s an argument that’ll convince me to read the latest Dan Brown. There’s only so much mangling of a language a girl can take.
