The New Yorker that and which

Mary Norris’s explanation of The New Yorker approach to that and which is likely, I think, to leave many viewers confused. The New Yorker follows Fowler’s Modern English Usage in using that with restrictive sentence elements and which with non-restrictive elements. The confusion comes with Norris’s sample sentences. Norris attributes these two (which she uses to introduce that and which ) to E. B. White:

The New Yorker is a magazine, which likes “that.”

The New Yorker is the magazine that likes “which.”

The second sentence is fine. But the first doesn’t make sense. It’s comparable to a sentence that says

Il Bambino is a restaurant, which serves paninis.

The unfortunate implication is that a magazine is a thing that likes the word that , and that a restaurant is an establishment that serves paninis.

Norris’s next example, in which that takes the place of which (“a fifty-two-thousand-square-foot gym that passersby sometimes mistake for a megachurch”) raises no complications. But her final example baffles me. What should The New Yorker use here, that , or which ?

[S]he suffered a series of pulled hamstrings, rolled ankles, and stress fractures that required cortisone shots in her elbow.

[S]he suffered a series of pulled hamstrings, rolled ankles, and stress fractures, which required cortisone shots in her elbow.

The New Yorker opted for which , a puzzling which . I would read the sentence as saying that this athlete suffered not just fractures but fractures that required cortisone shots. That’s how serious the fractures were. Norris herself says that that seems fine here. And which could be mistaken, if only for a moment, for the magazine’s irregular restrictive which , in which case it would be the entire series of injuries that required cortisone shots in the elbow (which of course would make no sense). The irregular restrictive which is a complication that Norris does not mention.

I appreciate what seems to be the intent behind these New Yorker videos: to offer the viewer a light-hearted, pain-free engagement with matters of grammar and usage (while proclaiming the magazine’s adherence to high standards). But the history and complications of that and which must be found elsewhere — in, for instance, the three columns of text devoted to the two words in Garner’s Modern English Usage .

Two related posts
Important-ly
Review of Norris’s Between You & Me

One that got away

One more thing I learned on my summer vacation: an Italian-American bookstore opened in Boston’s North End in October 2015. I AM Books calls itself the first Italian-American bookstore in the United States. It’s a small store, with a sampling of used books (large volumes of Leonardo and Michelangelo were just five dollars each) and shelves devoted to children’s books, cookbooks, history, travel, Italian writers (in Italian and in English translation), and Italian-American writers. I picked up a novel by a writer I’d never heard of: Leonardo Sciascia’s The Day of the Owl (1961). And I recommended that the store look into stocking some Gilbert Sorrentino. (Brooklyn, represent.)

Favorite moment: two teenaged girls were browsing and noticed the music playing in the store: “Was Frank Sinatra Italian?” one of them asked.

Related reading
Gilbert Sorrentino (1929–2006)
Things I learned on my summer vacation, 2016

[New York City’s S. F. Vanni began in 1884, but that was a bookstore for books in Italian.]

An endless, roiling sea

It hit me when I was reading James Franco’s list of favorite books in The New York Times : roil . In all its forms, it’s a vogue word. I started searching in the Times and in Google News:

June 5: “Slosberg roils fellow Democrats,” “roiling the financial markets,” “roiling markets.”

June 4: “a day already roiled,” “roiled by an alarming rise,” “roiled the architectural establishment,” “Norris’s gut was roiling,” “roiling around an expansive field” “secessionist movements roiling Scotland,” “the roiling cauldron of ambition,” “the roiling blood of a colonial past,” “the roiling column of black smoke,” “roiling confusion,” “a roiling generation,” “flame roiling out of the open garage door.”

June 3: “roils the Republic of Congo,” “Sugar Land roils over Selfie Statue,” “may roil financial markets,” “roil Oregon’s outdoors,” “severe weather and tornadoes roil plains,” “digital technology roiling education, publishing, and visual culture,” “political crisis roiling Venezuela,” “roiling changes,” “Iraq’s roiling impatience,” “the roiling melody,” “roiling rivers,” “roiling sexual scandal,” “a roiling storm,” “a roiling tale of desperation, love and struggle,” “roiling waters,” “currently roiling Europe,” “roiling through the city,” “the emotions roiling.”

June 2: “set to roil Democratic convention,” “roiled the city,” “roiled the Qatif area,” “roiling controversy,” “roiling fury,” “roiling global financial markets,” “a roiling national debate,” “a roiling sea,” “that roiling sea of clouds,” “a roiling sea of volatile nitrogen ice,” “roiling sexual scandal,” “roiling the medical community,” “roiling with divisiveness,” “roiling the waters,” “roiling beneath its surface.”

June 1: “diesel scandal roils,” “school district roiled,” “stocks, sterling roiled,” “the roiling aftermath,” “roiling bass,” “roiling cells of nitrogen ice,” “roiling debates,” “roiling emotions,” “the roiling magma,” “a nation roiling,” “a roiling national debate,” “that record’s roiling title track,” “roiling social debate,” “roiling tensions,” “roiling water,” “the roiling waters,” “roiling the city,” “roiling the fashion industry,” “roiling Libya’s politics,” “a storm roiling underneath the surface,” “a steadily roiling competition,” “an endless, roiling sea of numbers.”

An endless, roiling sea of vogue words! I rest my case.

[A Nation Roiling would make a nice title for a Bob and Ray news spoof. Roiling Tensions would be good for a soap-opera spoof.]

NPR, sheesh

This morning on Weekend Edition Sunday :

“Like a good Chinese son, Bob Hung’s parents expected him to grow up to be a doctor, a lawyer, maybe an accountant.”

“Like a good Chinese son”: a dangling modifier. Because it compares parents to a son, it’s a distracting dangler, so distracting that Elaine and I both said “What?” before the sentence ended. A smaller problem: him lacks a genuine referent. How to make things right:

Like a good Chinese son, Bob Hung was supposed to grow up to be a doctor, a lawyer, maybe an accountant.

Or better:

As a good Chinese son, Bob Hung was supposed to grow up to be a doctor, a lawyer, maybe an accountant.

That the expectations are parental seems clear from context. But if not:

Bob Hung’s parents expected their son to grow up to be a doctor, a lawyer, maybe an accountant — a good Chinese son.

Related reading
All OCA NPR posts (Pinboard)

James Allen, letter writer

James Allen has written a letter to The Washington Post responding to a letter that criticized his comic strip Mark Trail . The best Allen can do: if you don’t like the current stuck-in-a-cave story, well, it will end soon.

Mark, Gabe, and Carina have been stuck in a cave since February 3, interrupted only by a brief sojourn in a sinkhole.


[Mark Trail , June 4, 2016.]

Related reading
All OCA Mark Trail posts (Pinboard)

Ali, Moore, poets

Marianne Moore writes about Muhammad Ali:

He is neat. His brow is high. If beaten, he is still not “beat.” He fights and he writes.

    Is there something I have missed?
    He is a smiling pugilist .

From George Plimpton’s account of Ali (then Cassius Clay) and Moore at Toots Shor’s Restaurant, where they collaborated on a poem. You can read the whole story via Google Books. Moore’s sentences reappear in her liner notes for Ali’s 1963 spoken-word LP I Am the Greatest .

A related post
Carlo Rotella on Muhammad Ali, Homer, and translation

[Muhammad Ali dies yesterday at the age of seventy-four.]

Overheard

“. . . but we couldn’t do the forced smiles.”

Related reading
All OCA “overheard” posts (Pinboard)

Where are the 2017 Moleskine planners?

Elaine and I stopped into Moleskine stores in Manhattan and Cambridge late last month. (We didn’t know that there were such stores until we happened upon them.) I was looking for the 2017 Pocket Weekly Planner (hardcover, horizontal layout). In past years, the next year’s Moleskine planners became available in May or June. In each Moleskine store this May, eighteen-month 2016–17 planners abounded, but no 2017 planners. Not until November, we were told in Manhattan. Not until October, we were told in Cambridge.

And yet — we walked into an independent bookstore, headed to the Moleskine shelves, and there it was, the 2017 PWP, along with other 2017 Moleskine planners. I asked the clerk about the October/November release date, and she was puzzled. She checked and told me that the store had another eighteeen 2017 PWPs in stock. I checked Amazon and discovered that 2017 Moleskine planners have been available since May 18.

It seems reasonable to wonder whether Moleskine stores are holding off on displaying 2017 planners to give the 2016–17 merchandise a longer shelf life. The Moleskine website shows only 2016 and 2016–17 planners. The company’s Twitter makes reference to 2016–17 planners as “new arrivals” and has nothing to say about 2017 planners. May–June is the new-planner season, at least for those who are slightly obsessive, and there’s something odd and unpleasant about a company holding back merchandise from its regular customers while trying to hook new customers mid-year. I don’t need an eighteen-month Moleskine planner, because I bought a 2016 Moleskine last year.

For now, anyone who’s looking for a 2017 Moleskine planner would do well to look anyplace but a Moleskine store.

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June 20: I wrote to Moleskine on June 3 and, again, yesterday, with a link to this post. I received a reply this morning. A company representative tells me that “this kind of information hasn’t been released from our offices” and that 2017 planners are now available from the Moleskine website. Which still doesn’t explain why in Moleskine’s stores I was told “October” and “November.”

Related reading
All OCA Moleskine posts (Pinboard)

Block that metaphor

A CNN anchor:

“. . . and Bernie Sanders nipping at her toes.”

Make that heels . The newsperson was probably led astray by Mel Tormé and Bob Wells: “Jack Frost nipping at your nose.” Not toes .

But would nipping at heels be much of an improvement? George Orwell: “there is a huge dump of worn-out metaphors which have lost all evocative power and are merely used because they save people the trouble of inventing phrases for themselves.” Exactly.

Related reading
All OCA metaphor posts (Pinboard)

Things I learned on my summer vacation

Compass may be pronounced /ˈkəm-pəs/ or /ˈkäm-pəs/. But it appears that I am the only person in the world who uses the second pronunciation.

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The Prius’s fuel economy (already great) seems to improve as the car ages. Whether that’s due to changes in the car or changes in its drivers is unclear.

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There is always signage to rewrite: “Drug Activity Impaired Drivers” = Drug-Impaired Drivers.

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The Square and Compass Tavern once stood in Cincinnati, Ohio. (That word compass again.)

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Most purveyors of coffee will cheerfully fill a Klean Kanteen for a very modest price.

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A little farm may be called a farmette.

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Trucking companies seem to have an odd affection for antique fonts.


[Artist’s conception.]

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The Readington Diner, in Whitehouse Station, New Jersey, serves excellent food. And such portions. Cajun shrimp would easily feed two. The gyros platter might serve three. Next time we will know to bring stray passers-by with us — or order less.

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We have been to Whitehouse Station twice before, once to the Ryland Inn (thank you, Luanne and Jim) and once when stopping at a Starbucks. It was Elaine who realized that Starbucks made three .

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People will mix almost anything with chocolate: Fritos, lavender, Meyer lemon, crickets, foie gras. Some combinations turn out to be delicious. Others, I am told, not so much. Crickets. Crickets.

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It’s a pity that the qualifications for working in what might be Manhattan’s best bookstore include rudeness. Don’t bother to look up when you give me the quarter needed to open the bathroom door. Oh, and pedantry.

“Where would you have books by Robert Walser? I thought he might be in the German lit section. He was Swiss and wrote in German.”

[Pointing to European Literature shelves .] “Over here.” [Insistent .] “Do you want to know why his books are here?”

Hoo boy. Is it a bookstore, or are they playing graduate school? We won’t be going back.

(P.S.: Because he was Swiss.)

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New York’s Soho resembles an enormous mall. Venerable buildings have been turned into showrooms for designer goods. It’s appalling, as are so many other developments in the new New York.

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In the West Village, Il Bambino is an excellent and inexpensive choice for lunch. I recommend the panini with roasted chicken, béarnaise mayo, mushrooms, and goat cheese ($10).

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The new Whitney Museum’s two-floor exhibition Human Interest: Portraits From the Whitney’s Collection makes for a very satisfying museum visit. Partly because of the human element, partly because of the range of materials. Among the highlights: Walker Evans and Edward Hopper. I finally got to see a Fairfield Porter painting in person, but it was not nearly as terrific as I’d hoped. (Sorry, New York School.)

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The Venus Bar and Restaurant in Passaic, New Jersey, offers a great experience in Ecuadorean and Peruvian cooking. Avocado salad! Ceviche two ways! Fried rice! Grilled everything! Bring an appetite: even the appetizers come with side dishes. Bring paper money too, so that you can tip the mariachis who come in to play for the crowd. Our bill for six people, with two appetizers, five main dishes, two pitchers of sangria, and too many side dishes to count, came to about $30 a person.

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The perfect guitar accompaniment for a trumpeter playing Miles Davis’s “Freddie Freeloader”: Freddie Green-style comping. Chonk chonk chonk chonk.

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The residence at 890 Park Avenue is eye-catching in its age and modest size. I am not the first person to notice it.

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Our friend Margie King Barab associated with avowed Marxists — namely, Groucho and Harpo. Harpo was the funnier brother.

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New Jersey Transit bus routes are beyond my understanding. The sign at the bus stop where Elaine and I wait for a bus to the Port Authority lists the 165 and 166. We have taken the 165 into the city from that stop. We have seen the 165 going up the street in the other direction as well. But the New Jersey Transit map shows the 165 never nearing our stop. And the drivers we’ve asked in the Port Authority always confirm that the 165 does not stop where we need it to stop. It’s possible that a driver here and there has the wrong route showing on the signboard. Maybe we have riding the 166 all along. But then why do the signs at the stops list the 165? A permanent flaw in the fabric of space-time.

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New Jersey Transit buses have a door on the side that can open for luggage.

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The Museum of the City of New York has a great exhibition on view through October, Roz Chast: Cartoon Memoirs. What especially moved me was seeing Chast’s father’s copy of William Rose Benét’s The Reader’s Encyclopedia , a book that plays a part in Chast’s graphic memoir Can’t We Talk About Something More Pleasant? (2014). Other terrific exhibitions too: eighteenth- and nineteenth-century portraits (got Hamilton?), New York’s Yiddish theater, and Mel Rosenthal’s photographs of life in the South Bronx. And no recorded tours! The City Museum has become my favorite museum in New York. More praise in this post.

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The northeast corner of Central Park, across from the City Museum, offers a wonderful landscape to explore. Its highlights: the Harlem Meer and the overlook that marks the site of Fort Clinton.


[As seen on the Harlem Meer. Click for a larger heron.]

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The best adventures, especially with our friends Jim and Luanne, are unpremeditated. (I knew that already.)

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Boutez en avant : “Push to the front,” or “Charge!”

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The original Brigham’s ice-cream parlor was located in Newton Highlands, Massachusetts, in a storefront that is now the home of Bread & Chocolate, a worthy successor.

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A queue box provides a safe means for cyclists to make turns at intersections. Another example of queue becoming familiar in American English.

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Tercentenary Theatre is not a theater: “Tercentenary Theatre” is a name for the center of Harvard Yard, a rather unpleasant environment for a morning-long commencement ceremony in late May: searing heat, poor or non-existent sight lines in many places, and an apparent absence of any bathroom facilities or drinking water. I am told by those who should know that year after year Harvard thinks about moving its commencement from the Yard — and that year after year the school makes the wrong choice.

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It’s possible to watch the commencement ceremony on a large screen in the comfort of a cool tent. Why is this option not publicized? Oh well.

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Harvard’s convocation and diploma ceremony, at least those for the Graduate School of Education, were beautifully organizing and moving events, with unforgettable moments. This speech, this one, and this one. I’ve already written a little about our son’s musical performance with two fellow students.

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The Florentine Cafe in Boston’s North End is an excellent restaurant.

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Bruschetta , “preferably pronounced /broo-sket-ǝ/, as in Italian. But in AmE [American English] /broo-shet-ǝ/ is disappointingly ubiquitous”: Garner’s Modern English Usage (2016).

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The Caffe Paradiso in Boston’s North End serves a spectacular cannoli. Mike’s Pastry gets the tourists. Caffe Paradiso gets speakers of Italian — and us. It was delightful to remember that we were here years ago with Rachel and Ben. Everything looks the same.

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What would you find on a scavenger hunt in Tennessee? A jar.

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Kids still count Mississippi s when playing two-on-two football. One Mississippi, two Mississippi.

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Captain Jackson’s Historic Chocolate Shop and the Printing Office of Edes & Gill are unexpected treasures in Boston’s North End. Look: they’re making hot chocolate. And printing the Declaration of Independence. Sweet freedom!

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The best adventures, especially with our friends Jim and Luanne, are unpremeditated. (I knew that already.)

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Luckombe Upper Case and Lower Case: typecase arrangements.

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The step-on trashcan was invented by Lillian Moller Gilbreth of Frank Bunker Gilbreth Jr. and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey’s Cheaper by the Dozen (1948).

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We should probably see The Captain’s Paradise (dir. Anthony Kimmins, 1953).

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In Newark, New York, one must have New York State identification to buy beer from a certain convenience store. (Why?) Elaine asked someone to buy a six-pack for us and paid for her iced tea to say thanks.

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If the date on the television in our Newark motel room is still wrong, it’s now January 22.

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“Those whom we love and lose are no longer where they were before. They are now wherever we are”: attributed to John Chrysostom. But easy for a non-believer to agree with.

More things I learned on my summer vacation
2015 : 2014 : 2013 : 2012 : 2011 : 2010 : 2009 : 2008 : 2007 : 2006