Copywriter's Lament #9

I write tons of copy. Lots of long form, say for websites, blog posts, the occasional flyer, brochure, and the like. My clients often turn my copy over to a proofreader, a practice I should be grateful for, I suppose. But I pay for Grammarly to find my stupid mistakes and ignore the mistakes it finds that aren’t mistakes (more on that in subsequent Laments). 
 
Case in point: “more than” versus “over.” When my copy includes an “over,” it is often replaced with “more than.” Many insist that “over” should be limited to descriptions of height as opposed to numbers or degrees, cases of which should be limited to “more than.” Anyone who makes over $200k a year would agree that they make more than $200k a year. Every reader would agree that the two expressions mean the same thing. Even Merriam-Webster’s definitions of “over” as a preposition include “more than.”
 
This shibboleth has some history and was once endorsed by the APA Stylebook or manual or whatever the hell they call it. Associated Press style once discouraged writers from using “over” to mean “more than,” but that changed in 2014 because there was never a grammatical reason for the rule. Of course, a slew of nutcases went off the rail about how accepting this change was yet another sign of the end of knowledge and the triumph of ignorance. It was quite the opposite. Over 99% of English speakers would agree — the difference in meaning between the two expressions is zilch, nada, nothing. Extremists Editors, please get a clue. The language belongs to those who speak it. And sooner or later, the speaking majority rule.
 
Take, for example, the fight against “alright” vs. “all right, which is at least as old as the “more than/over” wars. But the desire to insist that all right is to be preferred to alright ignores the English language’s passion for brevity. I usually choose all right, but I go out on a limb once in a while. You know, living dangerously, knowing the grammar police lie in wait with red pencils. But nothing seems to happen when I do. I’m guessing alright is approaching mass acceptance, and Merriam will eventually surrender. People spend countless hours worrying about the difference between who and whom when the understanding of when to use which calls for an knowledge of grammar no longer taught outside of graduate programs in English or Linguistics. Consider this sentence: “Give the medal to whomever wins the race.” The use of “whom” here follows from people’s sense that “to,” being a preposition, should be followed by “whom” rather than “who.” But “whom” in this case is grammatically incorrect. Here’s why: the clause “X wins the race” calls for a subject form, in case, “who,” as most speakers would find “whom wins the race” and odd construction by itself; but since it follows the preposition “to,” many speakers would feel then need to use “whomever.” The kicker here is that the entire clause “who wins the race” is the object of the preposition “to”— not just the word “whom.” English grammar is a pain in the ass, but it has its own logic, a logic which everyday speakers have some sense of but mostly ignore since everyday speakers have but one need: to get a point across, communicate, exchange info, etc. 
 
Another in this vein is “I vs me.” Consider this expression: “just between you and me.” Of course, you will find people saying, “just between you and I,” thinking that this expression is grammatically correct. But it’s not. Or consider how to answer when you knock on a door and someone asks, “Who is it?” Everybody except some prude would answer, “It’s me,” rather than sound like a jackass and respond, “It’s I” — even though it’s grammatically correct. Another example: “Let us go then, you and I…” vs “Let us go then, you and me…” This example is particularly interesting because some would insist that it’s grammatically incorrect. But it also happens to be the first sentence of The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock, by T.S. Elliot, possibly the most famous poem of the 20th century. But Elliot went with the “ungrammatical,” giving us these opening, lovely, and rhyming lines:
 
Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question…
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.
 
The language is haunting. And some grammarians insist it’s ungrammatical; but Elliot has his defenders, too. Grammar nutjobs like to argue. For me, grammar be damned in this case. Break the rules you need to and know why you do when you do.