This is today’s sentence: “As Arnold considered his big day, he wondered if he could go in slacks and a sports coat.”

And today’s quiz question is: “Should Arnold have wondered IF he could go in slacks and a sports coat, or WHETHER he could go, or whether OR NOT he could go?”

The best brief discussion of the question – at least the best I have found – is in “Garner’s Modern American Usage,” recently published by Oxford University Press. Garner says it’s a good editorial practice to distinguish the two conjunctions. He recommends, “Use ‘if’ for a conditional idea, ‘whether’ for an alternative or possibility. Thus, ‘Let me know if you’ll be coming’ means that I want to hear from you only if you’re coming. But ‘Let me know whether you’ll be coming’ means that I want to hear from you about your plans one way or the other.” Fair enough.

To Garner’s succinct observations I would add only a note that in these conditional constructions, the supplementary “or not” serves a useful function. It’s an emphasizer. “Let me know whether OR NOT you’re coming” carries a wallop not carried by “Let me know whether you’re coming.” It’s a rhetorical thing. One thinks of the wife who asks her husband as he attempts to carve the turkey, “What are you doing?” Or she asks, “What in the hell are you doing?” This is not redundancy. It is experience.

Webster’s Dictionary of English Usage provides an extensive discussion of “if” and “whether.” Evidently the distinction has attracted a swarm of commentators, some of whom have regarded “if” as undignified. Pfui! The consensus is that except for a construction that implies alternatives, “if” is perfectly OK. Edith Wharton: “I asked if she was engaged …” Aldous Huxley: “He fingered his tie to feel if it were straight.” William Faulkner: “I doubt if one writer ever has a satisfactory conversation with another writer.” And finally, from Genesis 8:8: “Also he sent forth a dove from him, to see if the waters were abated …” If the usage was good enough for Noah, it’s good enough for me.

Some questions of usage never die. They never fade away either. “Couple” persists. The San Antonio Express-News carried a feature on family finance: “It pays to talk dollars and sense before a couple SAY ‘I do.”‘ The Milwaukee Journal Sentinel provided a story about foster parents Don and Beverly Leannais: “Couple in 70s HAVE raised a hundred kids.” The Seattle Times covered a double murder a year ago: “A couple in their 80s WERE stabbed to death early yesterday morning in Auburn …” All of these examples sound right to me.

The commonsensical rule on “couple” is founded in the doctrine of notional agreement. If you’re thinking plural, use plural verbs and pronouns: “The couple were driving to their new home.” If you’re thinking of the happy pair as a unit, use singulars: “The couple was driving to its …” The rule requires some minimal respect for consistency. As a plural, the couple had better have four children of THEIR own. As a singular, the couple HAS four children of ITS own.

A word – a dirty word – needs to be said of “couple of.” Over the past 50 years a barbarian practice has developed of excising the “of” in such constructions as, “Joe got off the bus a couple blocks earlier,” or, “Uncle Bob had a couple wives before Aunt Ellie.” Aaargh! The “couple” in today’s meditation is a noun, not a dragooned adjective. Bob had a couple OF wives!

True, the “of” may sensibly be left out of some constructions. We’re not going to write of “a couple more of examples” of usage or “a couple more of snowstorms.” The “of” may be dropped with some nouns of quantity: “We bought a couple dozen dinner rolls.” “Uncle Bob will be away a couple more days.”

One more word: The meaning of “couple” as “exactly two” long ago yielded to a sense of “a few.” The strict definition does survive in “six couple of hounds,” which means 12 hounds, but “a couple more hands of poker” means we won’t be home until Tuesday.

James Kilpatrick is a syndicated columnist.

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