Latest news with #AdrianMole
Straits Times
28-05-2025
- General
- Straits Times
Why we must save the semicolon from extinction
The utility of this much maligned punctuation mark in contemporary prose has been called into question. PHOTO ILLUSTRATION: PEXELS Why we must save the semicolon from extinction The utility of this much maligned punctuation mark in contemporary prose has been called into question. A recent study has found a 50 per cent decline in the use of semicolons over the last two decades. The decline accelerates a long-term trend: In 1781, British literature featured a semicolon roughly every 90 words; by 2000, it had fallen to one every 205 words. Today, there is just one semicolon for every 390 words. Further research reported that 67 per cent of British students never or rarely use a semicolon; more than 50 per cent did not know how to use it. Just 11 per cent of respondents described themselves as frequent users. These findings may not be definitive. According to The Guardian, the Google Books Ngram Viewer database, which surveys novels and non-fiction, indicates that semicolon use in English rose by 388 per cent between 1800 and 2006, before falling by 45 per cent over the next 11 years. In 2017, however, it started a gradual recovery, with a 27 per cent rise by 2022. Yet when you put the punctuation mark itself into the database, rather than the word 'semicolon', you get a quite different result – one that looks very much like a steady decline. Virulent detractors The semicolon first appeared in 1494, so it has been around for a long time. So have arguments about it. Its detractors can be quite virulent. It is sometimes taken as a sign of affected elitism. Adrian Mole, the pretentious schoolboy protagonist of Sue Townsend's popular novels, says snobbishly of Barry Kent, the skinhead bully at his school: 'He wouldn't know what a semicolon was if it fell into his beer.' Kurt Vonnegut (whose novels are not entirely free of semicolons) said semicolons represented 'absolutely nothing' and using them just showed that you 'went to college'. Other writers have expressed pure animosity. American journalist James Kilpatrick denounced the semicolon 'girly', 'odious', and the 'most pusillanimous, sissified utterly useless mark of punctuation ever invented'. The utility of this much maligned punctuation mark in contemporary prose has been called into question. British author Ben McIntyre has claimed Stephen King 'wouldn't be seen dead in a ditch with a semicolon'. He obviously has not read page 32 of King's wonderful book On Writing, where King uses semicolons in three sentences in a row. Impeccable balance Before I defend the semicolon, it is worth clarifying what it actually does. Its two uses are as follows: It separates independent clauses, but establishes a relation between them. It suggests that the statements are too closely connected to stand as separate sentences. For example: 'Speech is silver; silence is golden.' It can be used to clarify a complicated list. For example: 'Remember to check your grammar, especially agreement of subjects and verbs; your spelling, especially of tricky words such as 'liaison'; and your punctuation, especially your use of the apostrophe.' Semicolons have long played a prominent role in classic literature. Journalist Amelia Hill notes that Virginia Woolf relies heavily on semicolons in her meditation on time, Mrs Dalloway. The novel includes more than 1,000 of them, often used in unorthodox ways, to capture the flow of its protagonist's thoughts. Other supporters of the semicolon include Salman Rushdie, John Updike, Donna Tartt, Mark Twain, Charles Dickens and Jane Austen. Novelist Philip Hensher has celebrated the semicolon as 'a cherished tool, elegant and rational'. In 1953, theatre critic Kenneth Tynan called it 'the prize-winning supporting crutch of English prose'. In his essay Semicolons: A Love Story, Ben Dolnick refers to William James' deft use of semicolons to pile on the clauses. He claims this is like saying to a reader, who is already holding one bag of groceries, 'Here, I know it's a lot, but can you take another?' 'The image of the grocery bags,' observed Mary Norris, a highly respected copyeditor at The New Yorker, 'reinforces the idea that semicolons are all about balance.' Harvard professor Louis Menand has praised as 'impeccable' the balancing semicolon on a public service placard (allegedly amended by hand) that exhorted subway riders not to leave their newspapers behind on the train: 'Please put it in a trash can; that's good news for everyone.' The poet Lewis Thomas beautifully captures the elegance of a well-used semicolon in his essay Notes On Punctuation: 'The semicolon tells you there is still some question about the preceding full sentence; something needs to be added. It is almost always a greater pleasure to come across a semicolon than a full stop. The full stop tells you that is that; if you didn't get all the meaning you wanted or expected, you got all the writer intended to parcel out, and now you have to move along. But with a semicolon there you get a pleasant little feeling of expectancy; there is more to come; read on; it will get clearer.' As Australian novelist David Malouf has argued, the semicolon still has a future, and an important function, in nuanced imaginative prose: 'I tend to write longer sentences and use the semicolon so as not to have to break the longer sentences into shorter ones that would suggest things are not connected that I want people to see as connected. Short sentences make for fast reading; often you want slow reading.' We cannot do without the semicolon. The Apostrophe Protection Society is going along very strongly. I would be more than happy to join a Semicolon Supporting Society. Roslyn Petelin is honorary associate professor in writing at The University of Queensland, in Australia. This article was first published in The Conversation. Join ST's Telegram channel and get the latest breaking news delivered to you.
&w=3840&q=100)
First Post
24-05-2025
- General
- First Post
Do you remember the last time you used a semi-colon? Here's why it is disappearing
A new study has found that use of semicolons has declined by half over the last couple of decades. Once known as the 'prize-winning crutch of English prose, the punctuation mark was used every 90 words, but now has dropped to every 390 words read more A recent study has found a 50 per cent decline in the use of semicolons over the last two decades. Imag for Representation. Pixabay A recent study has found a 50 per cent decline in the use of semicolons over the last two decades. The decline accelerates a longterm trend: In 1781, British literature featured a semicolon roughly every 90 words; by 2000, it had fallen to one every 205 words. Today, there's just one semicolon for every 390 words. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD Further research reported that 67 per cent of British students never or rarely use a semicolon; more than 50 per cent did not know how to use it. Just 11 per cent of respondents described themselves as frequent users. These findings may not be definitive. According to the Guardian, the Google Books Ngram Viewer database, which surveys novels and nonfiction, indicates that semicolon use in English rose by 388 per cent between 1800 and 2006, before falling by 45 per cent over the next 11 years. In 2017, however, it started a gradual recovery, with a 27 per cent rise by 2022. Yet when you put the punctuation mark itself into the database, rather than the word 'semicolon', you get a quite different result – one that looks very much like a steady decline. A brief history of semicolons The semicolon first appeared in 1494, so it has been around for a long time. So have arguments about it. Its detractors can be quite virulent. It is sometimes taken as a sign of affected elitism. Adrian Mole, the pretentious schoolboy protagonist of Sue Townsend's popular novels, says snobbishly of Barry Kent, the skinhead bully at his school: 'He wouldn't know what a semicolon was if it fell into his beer.' Kurt Vonnegut (whose novels are not entirely free of semicolons) said semicolons represented 'absolutely nothing' and using them just showed that you 'went to college'. Other writers have expressed pure animosity. American journalist James Kilpatrick denounced the semicolon 'girly', 'odious', and the 'most pusillanimous, sissified utterly useless mark of punctuation ever invented'. The utility of this much-maligned punctuation mark in contemporary prose has been called into question. British author Ben McIntyre has claimed Stephen King 'wouldn't be seen dead in a ditch with a semicolon'. He obviously hasn't read page 32 of King's wonderful book On Writing, where King uses semicolons in three sentences in a row. It's all about the balance Before I defend the semicolon, it is worth clarifying what it actually does. Its two uses are as follows: it separates independent clauses, but establishes a relation between them. It suggests that the statements are too closely connected to stand as separate sentences. For example: 'Speech is silver; silence is golden.' STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD it can be used to clarify a complicated list. For example: 'Remember to check your grammar, especially agreement of subjects and verbs; your spelling, especially of tricky words such as 'liaison'; and your punctuation, especially your use of the apostrophe.' Semicolons have long played a prominent role in classic literature. Journalist Amelia Hill notes that Virginia Woolf relies heavily on semicolons in her meditation on time, Mrs Dalloway. The novel includes more than 1000 of them, often used in unorthodox ways, to capture the flow of its protagonist's thoughts. Virginia Woolf, semicolon enthusiast. Image courtesy: Wikimedia Commons Other supporters of the semicolon include Salman Rushdie, John Updike, Donna Tartt, Mark Twain, Charles Dickens and Jane Austen. Novelist Philip Hensher has celebrated the semicolon as 'a cherished tool, elegant and rational.' In 1953, theatre critic Kenneth Tynan called it 'the prize-winning supporting crutch of English prose'. In his essay Semicolons: A Love Story, Ben Dolnick refers to William James's deft use of semicolons to pile on the clauses. He claims this is like saying to a reader, who is already holding one bag of groceries, 'Here, I know it's a lot, but can you take another?' STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD 'The image of the grocery bags,' observed Mary Norris, a highly respected copyeditor at the New Yorker, 'reinforces the idea that semicolons are all about balance.' Harvard professor Louis Menand has praised as ' impeccable' the balancing semicolon on a public service placard (allegedly ) that exhorted subway riders not to leave their newspapers behind on the train: 'Please put it in a trash can; that's good news for everyone.' The poet Lewis Thomas beautifully captures the elegance of a well-used semicolon in his essay Notes on Punctuation: The semicolon tells you there is still some question about the preceding full sentence; something needs to be added. It is almost always a greater pleasure to come across a semicolon than a full stop. The full stop tells you that is that; if you didn't get all the meaning you wanted or expected, you got all the writer intended to parcel out and now you have to move along. But with a semicolon there you get a pleasant little feeling of expectancy; there is more to come; read on; it will get clearer. As Australian novelist David Malouf has argued, the semicolon still has a future, and an important function, in nuanced imaginative prose: I tend to write longer sentences and use the semicolon so as not to have to break the longer sentences into shorter ones that would suggest things are not connected that I want people to see as connected. Short sentences make for fast reading; often you want slow reading. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD We cannot do without the semicolon. The Apostrophe Protection Society is going along very strongly. I would be more than happy to join a Semicolon Supporting Society. Roslyn Petelin, Honorary Associate Professor in Writing, The University of Queensland This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
Scroll.in
24-05-2025
- General
- Scroll.in
Semicolons are becoming increasingly rare; their disappearance should be resisted
A recent study has found a 50 per cent decline in the use of semicolons over the last two decades. The decline accelerates a longterm trend: In 1781, British literature featured a semicolon roughly every 90 words; by 2000, it had fallen to one every 205 words. Today, there's just one semicolon for every 390 words. Further research reported that 67 per cent of British students never or rarely use a semicolon; more than 50 per cent did not know how to use it. Just 11% of respondents described themselves as frequent users. These findings may not be definitive. According to The Guardian, the Google Books Ngram Viewer database, which surveys novels and nonfiction, indicates that semicolon use in English rose by 388 per cent between 1800 and 2006, before falling by 45 per cent over the next 11 years. In 2017, however, it started a gradual recovery, with a 27 per cent rise by 2022. Yet when you put the punctuation mark itself into the database, rather than the word 'semicolon', you get a quite different result – one that looks very much like a steady decline. Virulent detractors The semicolon first appeared in 1494, so it has been around for a long time. So have arguments about it. Its detractors can be quite virulent. It is sometimes taken as a sign of affected elitism. Adrian Mole, the pretentious schoolboy protagonist of Sue Townsend's popular novels, says snobbishly of Barry Kent, the skinhead bully at his school: 'He wouldn't know what a semicolon was if it fell into his beer.' Kurt Vonnegut (whose novels are not entirely free of semicolons) said semicolons represented 'absolutely nothing' and using them just showed that you 'went to college'. Other writers have expressed pure animosity. American journalist James Kilpatrick denounced the semicolon 'girly', 'odious', and the 'most pusillanimous, sissified utterly useless mark of punctuation ever invented'. The utility of this much maligned punctuation mark in contemporary prose has been called into question. British author Ben McIntyre has claimed Stephen King 'wouldn't be seen dead in a ditch with a semicolon'. He obviously hasn't read page 32 of King's wonderful book On Writing, where King uses semicolons in three sentences in a row. Impeccable balance Before I defend the semicolon, it is worth clarifying what it actually does. Its two uses are as follows: It separates independent clauses, but establishes a relation between them. It suggests that the statements are too closely connected to stand as separate sentences. For example: 'Speech is silver; silence is golden.' It can be used to clarify a complicated list. For example: 'Remember to check your grammar, especially agreement of subjects and verbs; your spelling, especially of tricky words such as 'liaison'; and your punctuation, especially your use of the apostrophe.' Semicolons have long played a prominent role in classic literature. Journalist Amelia Hill notes that Virginia Woolf relies heavily on semicolons in her meditation on time, Mrs Dalloway. The novel includes more than 1000 of them, often used in unorthodox ways, to capture the flow of its protagonist's thoughts. Other supporters of the semicolon include Salman Rushdie, John Updike, Donna Tartt, Mark Twain, Charles Dickens and Jane Austen. Novelist Philip Hensher has celebrated the semicolon as 'a cherished tool, elegant and rational.' In 1953, theatre critic Kenneth Tynan called it 'the prize-winning supporting crutch of English prose'. In his essay Semicolons: A Love Story, Ben Dolnick refers to William James's deft use of semicolons to pile on the clauses. He claims this is like saying to a reader, who is already holding one bag of groceries, 'Here, I know it's a lot, but can you take another?' 'The image of the grocery bags,' observed Mary Norris, a highly respected copyeditor at the New Yorker, 'reinforces the idea that semicolons are all about balance.' Harvard professor Louis Menand has praised as ' impeccable ' the balancing semicolon on a public service placard (allegedly amended by hand) that exhorted subway riders not to leave their newspapers behind on the train: 'Please put it in a trash can; that's good news for everyone.' The poet Lewis Thomas beautifully captures the elegance of a well-used semicolon in his essay Notes on Punctuation: The semicolon tells you there is still some question about the preceding full sentence; something needs to be added. It is almost always a greater pleasure to come across a semicolon than a full stop. The full stop tells you that is that; if you didn't get all the meaning you wanted or expected, you got all the writer intended to parcel out and now you have to move along. But with a semicolon there you get a pleasant little feeling of expectancy; there is more to come; read on; it will get clearer. As Australian novelist David Malouf has argued, the semicolon still has a future, and an important function, in nuanced imaginative prose: I tend to write longer sentences and use the semicolon so as not to have to break the longer sentences into shorter ones that would suggest things are not connected that I want people to see as connected. Short sentences make for fast reading; often you want slow reading. We cannot do without the semicolon. The Apostrophe Protection Society is going along very strongly. I would be more than happy to join a Semicolon Supporting Society.
The Guardian
07-03-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Satori, Birmingham B13: ‘Pomposity chimed loudly in the air' – restaurant review
The last time I dined in affluent Moseley, south Birmingham, a few years back and in quite a fancy establishment, a fight broke out mid-meal. It was more drunken argy-bargy than fisticuffs, but enough to count as floor entertainment. Sadly, no spats occurred on my recent visit to Satori, an enlightening Japanese restaurant in the same postcode, though that's probably because it's so dark in there – black walls, black floors, black tables – that its customers wisely choose to remain safely seated. But this is not a Dans Le Noir-style themed restaurant where you eat in a blackout; no, it has instead merely been designed by someone who clearly really loves shiny, black surfaces with blood-red trimmings and busts of dragons. It's giving, as the kids say, 1980s MFI showroom doing international playboy lair. Or the time Adrian Mole painted over his Noddy wallpaper with black paint, but the gold hat bells kept gleaming through. Satori is inspired, the website says, by the Japanese concept of satori, a moment of 'awakening', and offers a dining experience 'that transcends the ordinary and becomes a journey of discovery, flavour, and connection'. That's a slightly pompous claim for somewhere that serves tuna and avocado maki, chicken wings, miso cod fillet and duck breast with honey and soy, but then pomposity chimed loudly in the air as we were led brusquely to our shiny table. We had ordered drinks from the small bar by the front door, a shiso fine made with Afsana Lion non-alcoholic spirit, red shiso and rhubarb and hibiscus tonic, plus a kendo made with Afsana Warrior, toasted rice tea, coconut water and sesame. Both sounded delicious, but they remained a dream because they never showed up. Did I maybe get off on the wrong foot with the front of house? Admittedly, there was a certain fractiousness from the moment I began ordering. 'We'll start with some sushi,' I said confidently. 'The sushi platter?' our server replied, guiding us to the £30 option. 'Well, how many pieces are on it?' I asked. 'Twelve,' he said, tapping his pad. 'And what then for starters?' 'Do we need starters?' I asked, having already seen several platters of rather cumbersome-looking maki and nigiri pass by. 'Yes, you'll need starters,' he said, curling a lip. 'Tea-smoked miso aubergine?' I said, hoping to placate him. 'Karaage?' 'And?' he said. 'Can we order mains now?' I said, ignoring his rolling eyes. My request for the black cod at £35 and the £30 lamb cutlets seemed to persuade him that we weren't just cluttering a table. A weird, dry, wilted cracker with spring onion and goat's curd appeared as an amuse-bouche. Then a plate – black slate, naturally – topped with salmon and tuna nigiri dressed with rather thickly sliced okra and some caviar, and a slightly stodgy dragon prawn tempura maki topped with pea shoots. This wasn't sushi worth making a special trip for, and pretty indistinguishable from the freshly rolled options at Waitrose. Next up came two thick slices of that tea-soaked aubergine, which was sweet, mushy and pleasant enough. Four small, thumbnail-sized pieces of karaage followed, which we'd been told had a layer of bonito under the drab, dry batter. Chopsticks were whisked away for our mains, which is when Satori ceased to push the boundaries of Japanese cuisine, ahem, and landed firmly in a 1990s UK pastiche of 'sophisticated Japanese', with a chunk of rather nice fish in a buttery miso sauce on a couple of pak choi leaves, and three deliciously plump, pink pepper-seasoned lamb chops with a few smears of yoghurt and some spindly heritage carrots, which owed more to Bengal than to Tokyo. This was the sort of dinner where you order dessert mainly out of sheer curiosity. 'The baked Mount Fuji!' I declared triumphantly. Within a matter of minutes, and certainly not within time actually to bake anything, a chunk of matcha ice-cream ensconced in sticky meringue was on our table, a shot of whisky was hurled over the top and the whole thing was then set ablaze. At this point, semi-hysteria set in, although that might have been the whisky fumes. After the flames abated, the plate – black, of course – was a mound of singed, still moist meringue mix sitting on some melted ice-cream and a puddle of whisky. You really can't put a price on that kind of excitement, although in this case it came to £12. Dinner was £168.77 including the warm service, but without the cocktails that, to date, are still being made in a very black room in Moseley. There wasn't a fight in the restaurant, but my purse took a battering. Satori 2c St Mary Row, Wake Green Road, Birmingham B13, 0121-537 4166. Open Tues-Thurs, dinner only, 5-10pm; Fri 1pm-10pm; Sat noon-11pm. From about £50 a head à la carte; tasting menu £75; 'signature' tasting menu £120, all plus drinks and service. The next episode of Grace's Comfort Eating podcast is out on Tuesday 11 March – listen to it here
