Not long ago I wrote a column in which I discussed the difference between a codger, a geezer, and a coot. This was a serious column, written in a spirit of semantic inquiry and scholarly pursuit. The final sentence read:

“Let us think upon these things, and go in peace.”

Fred Neiser of Sugar Grove, Ill., seized upon the comma in that sentence. “It is not needed,” he said. “I would not have used it.”

Very well. I thought that comma was needed, so I used it. Let me get back to it in a few minutes.

We are talking about punctuation today, not only to break a lance with reader Neiser but also to comment on two recently published books. The first is “Eats, Shoots & Leaves” by Lynne Truss (Gotham Books, $17.50). The second is “The Grammar Bible” by Michael Strumpf and Auriel Douglas (Owl Books, $18).

“Eats, Shoots & Leaves” has been on best-selling lists for the past month. It was panned in The New Yorker but genially lauded in other media. My own impression is that it would make a splendid bedside gift for a literary household. This is grammar-lite.

Regrettably, in a book on the writing art, Ms. Truss messes up on the proper placement of “only.” She needlessly splits an infinitive or two. She lapses into leech words – “pretty interesting,” “rather bedraggled,” “pretty clear.” She remarks in an aside that “it’s impolite to tell someone they’re wrong.” She tends to feel “that if a person genuinely wants to know how to spell ‘Connecticut,’ they will look it up.” At one point she speaks of an “old adage.” A greater regret is that the author provides neither an index nor even a table of contents.

These are mostly minor flaws. Ms. Truss usefully discusses the serial comma, as in the flag that is “red, white, and blue,” or the flag that is “red, white and blue.” She comes to the same sensible conclusion reached by experienced writers: “Sometimes a sentence is improved by including (the comma); sometimes it isn’t.” She is right on target in remarking that many matters of style are not set in stone. Many stylistic rules are set in a publisher’s idiosyncratic whims.

The Strumpf-Douglas “Grammar Bible” just came to my desk last month (the official publication date is July 15), but even a brief inspection suggests that a round of applause is in order. The work is copiously indexed and packed with apt examples. The authors offer sound advice in saying, for example, that the dash “is a mark of punctuation that the conscientious author should use sparingly.” Their discussion of “who” and “whom” is short but simple. On the other hand, I believe they are quite wrong in saying that a question mark is “not required” in rhetorical questions. How can they say that.

Now, gentle reader, let me get back to reader Neiser’s comment on my exegesis of codger, geezer, and coot. He would emend the column’s final sentence to scrub the comma and make the sentence read, “Let us think upon these things and go in peace.” I ask, rhetorically, what’s the rush? I inserted that comma to suggest a pause for reflection. After all, it is not every day that we ponder the meaning of codger, geezer, and coot. Or, if you’re not wedded to the serial comma, the meaning of codger, coot and geezer.

Punctuation is not an exact science. Often it is more of an art. Yes, we have to abide by a number of absolute rules, but not so many as pedantic fellows think. Punctuation, thoughtfully employed, is a writer’s best friend. It clarifies a muddy clause; it helps the cadence of a sentence; it controls the flow. Without such squiggly friends as the dash, the comma, the period and the bang mark, writers would be lost. You agree don’t you?

James Kilpatrick is a syndicated columnist.

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