Pluperfect Writing Is a Subjunctive Question

William Chitwood of Glendale writes:

I was definitely buzzing on this column about brainless Val chicks on the tube (Scott Harris, 3-14)--until like, the column dude’s grammar got super-gnarly.

Like, where he goes: “. . . here’s a couple of bulletins. . . . “

The subject-verb agreement, like, totally sucks.

And check this out: “Truth is, I probably wouldn’t call attention to O’Connor’s error if it wasn’t in the New York Times. . . . “

Bummer, dude! Since O’Connor’s mistake actually was in the New York Times--like, for real--the contrary-to-fact condition demands, you know, the subjunctive mood: “If it weren’t (or hadn’t been) in the New York Times. . . .”

So, like, not all of the local airheads are on TV, OK?

An airhead? Moi?

How embarrassing. There I was, nyah-nyahing over a factual error in a New York Times review of the new Aaron Spelling production “Malibu Shores” and making mistakes of my own.

What can I say? The fact that I’m a product of the Cal State system is no excuse. Perhaps you’ve read about all those incoming freshmen who require remedial English. Even us grads--or is that we grads?--can use help now and then.

“I can’t stand a grammar snipe,” said the editor who decided to refer Chitwood’s letter to the editor to the column dude.

Me, I don’t mind grammar snipes all that much. (“Obviously,” they might reply.) When you spend so much time pondering the weighty moral issues of the day--assisted suicide, illegal immigration, “Malibu Shores”--it’s nice to hear from readers more concerned with the proper use of the subjunctive mood.

These readers leave me feeling, well, a bit subjunctive, wishing I could do it over again. I think that’s what a subjunctive mood feels like, anyway. My Webster’s defines it as “designating or of the mood of a verb that is used to express supposition, desire, hypothesis, possibility, etc., rather than to state an actual fact (ex.: the mood of were in ‘if I were you’).”

In this mood I found myself thinking about an essay I’d read some time back. I explained my plight to Ron the Librarian (I really wish his name was Conan), who said he never heard the word subjunctive until he studied Spanish. But Ron found the essay.

“Grammar Puss” was the title of Steven Pinker’s essay that appeared in the New Republic on Jan. 31, 1994. It was subtitled “The fallacies of the language mavens,” and I recommend it to both language cops and offenders everywhere.

“Language is a human instinct,” Pinker begins. “. . . Normal children develop language without conscious effort or formal lessons, and by the age of 3 they speak in fluent grammatical sentences. . . .

“But when you read about language in the popular press, you get a very different picture. Johnny can’t construct a grammatical sentence. As educational standards decline and pop culture disseminates the inarticulate ravings and unintelligible patois of surfers, rock stars and valley girls, we are turning into a nation of functional illiterates: misusing ‘hopefully,’ confusing ‘lie’ and ‘lay,’ treating ‘bummer’ as a sentence, letting our participles dangle.

“What is behind this contradiction? If language is as instinctive to humans as dam-building is to beavers . . . why does the average American sound like a gibbering fool every time he opens his mouth or puts pen to paper?”

It was kind of Pinker to mention Vals, though of course he should have capitalized Valley, even if his point is that we shouldn’t be such quibblers.

Now, I’m not saying William Chitwood was wrong to nail me. I appreciate the help. A few years back, I heard from four readers correcting four distinct boo-boos in a single column. Yikes. If memory serves, I blew a who-whom and a lay-lie and even a heretofore-hereafter. I don’t remember the fourth one.

It was interesting that each of these readers apparently didn’t notice the other mistakes. At any rate, I resolved that hereafter I would be more careful.

Hopefully, Chitwood will be the last to find such faults in my work. Hopefully, this column will never again feature such mistakes. And hopefully, the grammar police will not accuse me of misusing hopefully.

Certainly many sticklers will make that accusation. But I subscribe to Pinker’s forceful defense of, as he puts it, “the much vilified ‘hopefully’.”

“A sentence such as ‘Hopefully, the treaty will pass’ is said to be in grave error. The adverb ‘hopefully’ comes from adjective ‘hopeful,’ meaning ‘in a manner full of hope.’ Therefore, the mavens say, it should be used only when the sentence refers to a person who is doing something in a hopeful manner. If it is the writer or reader who is hopeful, one should say, ‘It is hoped that the treaty will pass’. . .”

But Pinker points out that hopefully, as used here, is not a “verb phrase” adverb such as carefully, but a “sentence adverb” indicating the attitude of the speaker toward the entire sentence. Mercifully, to use hopefully in this manner is not unlike using frankly, understandably, happily or mercifully.

Wrongheaded mavens, Pinker notes, would have us instead create such weird concoctions as: “Hopefully, Larry hurled the ball toward the basket with one second left in the game,” or “Hopefully, Melvin turned the record over and sat back down on the couch eleven centimeters closer to Ellen.”

He sums up: “Call me uncouth, call me ignorant, but these sentences do not belong to any language that I speak.”

Well said, that. And Pinker defends slang, which brings me to one last letter.

Francine Oschin, an aide to Councilman Hal Bernson and unsuccessful candidate for the state Assembly, sent this note before the recent election:

It’s hard to tell if my campaign is FUBAR or if my chances of getting elected are NOPE as my opponent hopes.

I continue to do GGS to stay on top and hope that FIFO doesn’t apply to my opponent. What I’m really praying for is some JIT cash.

Oschin was drawing on her vast collection of political acronyms. FUBAR is the Vietnam-era version of World War II’s snafu, which of course began as the acronym for “situation normal, all, um, fouled up.” FUBAR, then, is, um, Fouled Up Beyond All Recognition. NOPE means Not On Planet Earth. GGS means Good Government, um, Stuff, FIFO means First In, First Out and JIT means Just In Time.

Hopefully, there won’t be a test.

Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. Readers may write to Harris at the Times Valley Edition, 20000 Prairie St., Chatsworth 91311. Please include a phone number.

After pondering assisted suicide, illegal immigration, ‘Malibu Shores,’ it’s nice to hear from readers more concerned with the proper use of the subjunctive mood.