Editing

Him Equals Whom

/ Ann Aubrey Hanson / 2 Comments

Today, I’m going to plagiarize. Well, actually, not really. I’m going to pay homage to the woman who originally wrote most of this text (Mignon Fogarty), and then repeat what she wrote. This has to do with the subject of “who vs. whom.”

As I edit books, I am continually confronted with this issue, and lord knows that we hear the rules broken every day. But who among us knows the rule? Mignon Fogarty does. And she explains it very well. As for me, I will never doubt what I know again. She has given me solid grounding in the rule and I’ll never forget it.

Taken from her website, Grammar Girl, http://grammar.quickanddirtytips.com/who-versus-whom.aspx, this is what she writes:

“First, to know whether to use who or whom, we need to talk about the difference between subjects and objects because you use who when you are referring to the subject of a clause and whom when you are referring to the object of a clause.” Don’t panic. She doesn’t leave us in the lurch with that statement, but goes on to clarify:

“If we think about people, the subject of the sentence is the person doing something, and the object of the sentence is having something done to them.” Subjects do, objects have done to them.

For example, “If I step on Squiggly, then I am the subject [doing the stepping] and Squiggly is the object [being stepped upon by me].”

Still clear as mud? Well she goes on to clarify still further: “Here’s my favorite mnemonic: If I say, ‘I love you,’ you are the object of my affection, and you is the object of the sentence [I am doing (loving) something to you]. I love you. You are the object of my affection and my sentence. It’s like a Valentine’s Day card and grammar mnemonic all rolled into one.”

Finally, Mignon gives a “Quick and Dirty Tip”:

“Like whom, the pronoun him ends with m. When you’re trying to decide whether to use who or whom, ask yourself if the answer to the question would be he or him. That’s the trick: if you can answer the question being asked with him, then use whom, and it’s easy to remember because they both end with m. For example, if you’re trying to ask, ‘Who (or whom) do you love?’ the answer would be, ‘I love him.’ Him ends with an m, so you know to use whom [in the question]. But if you’re trying to ask, ‘Who (whom) stepped on Squiggly?’ the answer would be, ‘He stepped on Squiggly.’ There’s no m, so you know to use who.

“Just remember, him equals whom.”

Words and Meaning

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I suppose it is inevitable that I became a writer and editor. Words have always held great importance for me. The precise word for a precise meaning: a concept vital to me as a child, and still.

I remember contemplating the difference between the word “marriage” and the word “wedding,” knowing that these two words, while sometimes used interchangeably, meant something very different. Because I couldn’t formulate my question properly at the age of seven, I didn’t receive a clarifying answer when I asked my mother about the difference. The question continued to haunt the recesses of my mind, until at the age of nine I finally figured it out. A wedding was the ceremony that joined two people into a partnership called marriage. The wedding was a one-time event, and the marriage was the result. Don’t laugh. I felt immensely satisfied to have figured that one out on my own.

Then there was the night when I learned that it was, in fact, the Civil War, not the Silver War. I had asked my brother, by spelling, if he wanted to go play “S-I-L-V-E-R W-A-R” with his Army men after dinner. My father overheard and corrected me. As he and Mom often did. A fact for which I am eternally grateful.

I also learned, by similar means, that one made a cavalry charge when one played cowboys and Indians, not a Calvary charge.

Even today I am enchanted by language and words. PD James is one of my favorite authors because of how she finds the absolutely perfect word for what she means to write. When her character Adam Dalgliesh is sitting in a fire-lit room with his aunt, she writes: “The firelight threw gules on her long face, brown and carved like an Aztec’s, the eyes hooded, the nose long and straight above a wide mobile mouth.” I was enchanted. What was this word “gules”? I looked it up. It means the tincture of the color red, but in heraldry it also means an area marked with vertical lines. This blew me away. I could SEE the aunt’s face, tinted slightly red, with vertical wrinkles at the sides of the mouth, and on the cheeks. Who but PD James would use a word like gules to such an effect?

I am adamant about the importance of word use and word choice and fervent in my belief that we retain an important edge when we know and use our language to precise effect.  Too often, we are lazy with our language, and I think that we, as a culture, suffer as a result.

The Play’s the Thing

/ Ann Aubrey Hanson / 2 Comments

I recently finished editing a volume on Herman Melville’s aesthetics (who knew there was MORE to find in his fabulous writing?), and then edited a book on early Greek thought in light of modern philosophy (a book that left me untouched, and slightly bewildered as to the why of its existence), and now I am editing a book on Shakespeare’s King Lear.

This is the fun part of my job. As I edit, I am constantly Googling, looking up references from the books, for my own edification. The chapter on productions of King Lear throughout the centuries led me to read about David Garrick and the early theater productions of Shakespeare, and then on to read about Ian McKellen and Laurence Olivier and Michael Gambon, and on and on. Sure this takes more time than just reading the book and editing it, but I’m learning so much as I do this extraneous research. Learning for my own knowledge, but also to benefit me in the long run as I continue to edit. The more I know about a broad swath of subjects, the better I’ll be at my job.

In addition to doing research on many of the actors named, I did research on staging of productions, both British and American, which led me to a staging in Taiwan’s Contemporary Legend Theatre, with a one-man production called “Lear Is Here,” starring Wu Hsing-Luo. From there, it was an easy leap to a Russian production, and then back again to television productions. But it was the understanding of stage sets and lighting that fascinated me, as they enhanced the written work of Shakespeare’s script with lighting and imagery that prompted different emotions from the viewers than would ever have been prompted by the text alone.

The text is the beginning, but beyond the text, there is so much that can be added, through the actors, the music and sound effects, the set, the lighting, and the costumes. I can’t help but wonder what Shakespeare would have thought about the productions since his time. I’m certain he would have been as enchanted as I, if not more so. Imagine if he were writing today, with the music, the visuals, the sounds available. But would his text have been a solidly foundational now as it was then? I wonder. Nevertheless (shaking my head to clear my mind)…we have his texts, and the play’s the thing!

All Letters Matter

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“To possess language is to possess reality; to lose control of words is to forfeit one’s claim to reality,” writes Nathan Mitchell in Cult and Controversy.

The truth of this became clear as I read Mark Dunn’s Ella Minnow Pea, a book I received as a gift for Christmas. It’s a short fable, a cautionary tale, about how each and every letter of our alphabet matters, especially when that letter is deleted from the language, and all words containing that language must be excised from our lives.

At first, the islanders living on Nollop, a fictitious island off the coast of South Carolina, are not too worried. After all, only the letter “z” had fallen off the statue of the island’s hero, Nevin Nollop, the supposed creator of the pangram, “The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog,” which sentence graces the memorial to its creator. When the first letter falls off, the island’s government decides that the incident is a message from beyond, from Nollop himself, inducing the islanders to stop their verbal and written laziness and to make better use of the language.

What’s the big deal, asked most of the islanders when the government directed that after a certain date the letter “z” would no longer be legal, either in writing or in speech. Severe penalties were put in place for those who erred in speech or with pen, and the islanders began to inform on one another, waiting to pounce on any unsuspecting neighbor who might mention the buzz of bees or how something oozed from a pie. Still, there was no widespread panic. What’s the loss of a simple z?

As the book progresses, it is determined by state-siders that the glue that holds the letters to the memorial has calcified, and all letters will eventually plummet to the ground. But the island governors don’t want to hear such nonsense. Nollop is speaking to them, they are certain, and they will enact Nollop’s wishes.

Once the letter “d” falls, Nollop has become all powerful in the minds of the governors, and, since the word “God” is no longer allowed, he has also become all potent.

The book ends with only five letters remaining in the island alphabet: LMNOP. But the islanders are saved by the discovery of a new sentence that uses all letters of the alphabet (pangram), with 32 letters total.

It’s a fun tale, not too meaty or drawn out, but it did make me realize how even seemingly insignificant constraints on language can have a repercussive effect on thought, on communication, and on neighbors. Words can be used to inspire or to incite, to heal or to wound, to convey truth or lies. But these must never be a law that prohibits free speech or writing, for the public’s good. Who, after all, is to decide that good? Language must be allowed to flourish, or rights will die.

Pilgrimage

/ Ann Aubrey Hanson / 1 Comment

I’m currently reading a book by Dr. Frank C. Gardiner, of UC Santa Barbara, titled The Pilgrimage of Desire: A Study of the Theme and Genre in Medieval Literature. Dr. Gardiner was the father of my great friend, author Meg Gardiner. Reading Dr. Gardiner’s book, it’s easy to see where his daughter got her writing chops. And the book is intriguing with its insights into Medieval literature and original sources. Great reading. To this day I regret the fact that I never took one of Dr. Gardiner’s classes when I was an undergraduate at UCSB. He scared me, he was so brilliant. Plus, he’d seen me in mime costume. It was a no-win situation.

I’m reading the book in preparation for an article I am working on for Via Lucis, the photography group and publisher for whom I am editor. Our first major volume, Light and Stone: France Romanesque, is currently being revised for publication in 2011. One of the chapters I want to add to the book (with photographs by Dennis Aubrey and PJ McKey) is about pilgrimage and its importance in the lives of those who lived in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.

The magnificent Romanesque churches of France, of which there are more than 5,000, are testament to the faith of mere mortals. Built not by slave laborers, as the pyramids were, these were edifices built to glorify God and to show humankind’s reverence for His beneficence and care. Many of these churches housed relics of saints, and, thus, were the focus of pilgrimage by the masses. Others exist quietly, off the beaten track, but are no less important in the lives of the people of the region, yesterday and today. Even as they sit silent and empty today, they echo with the “hallelujahs of the past,” waiting for the day when believers will once again enter through their doors and raise their eyes to heaven. They await new pilgrimages and a new flock.

If you are at all interested in seeing images from these wonderful churches, visit www.vialucis.wordpress.com and www.vialucis.us.

Absurd is Finished, Now to Math

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I’ve just finished editing a book that re-examines the Theatre of the Absurd (wonderful discussions of Rhinoceros, The Birthday Party, and Waiting for Godot, among others). What struck me most while editing was the fact that we, as students of the world, must continue to read and study if we want to stay up to date with current trends in thought. In editing the book, I learned that in 1995 there was a movement that proposed the idea that Camus was not an existentialist, that he was saying more than “life is absurd, accept it.” I also obtained a new understanding of Waiting for Godot, for which I have a new-found appreciation.

Another thought that struck me is how some academicians get stuck in a field and never leave it for their entire professional life. Not the world for me! Boredom and I are incompatible.

Now, having finished a course in the absurd, I begin editing a book about Albert Lautman and his mathematical theories. Not only is the book a discussion of mathematical philosophy, but it’s translated from the French. Guaranteed to be a tough one to edit, since I’ll have to read every line carefully, fixing syntax as well as grammar and punctuation.

Waiting in the wings: education and democracy in Senegal–and Islam, modernity, and the social sciences. All before Christmas arrives. Heigh-ho!

Theatre of the Absurd

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Today, I begin editing a new book, on a renewed conception of the Theatre of the Absurd.

Having just finished editing a book about the Hospitaller Knights of Malta, I look forward to this change of pace and focus. It has been years since I read any of Samuel Beckett’s work, or the work of Ionesco or Pinter. Apparently, in that time, a new understanding of Albert Camus’s writing has developed, stating that Camus wasn’t truly an existentialist. Imagine my surprise! But now I have to go back and read a 1995 book about Camus that seems to turn our previous understanding of his work and philosophy on its head. As a consequence, the term “absurd” must now be re-examined. Absurd, or not? It’s too early to tell.

More on this later, after I’ve edited and digested the book.