'Fumblerules' by William Safire
William Safire’s Fumblerules is a book full of mistakes — mistakes that make his point.
Safire runs through 50 different grammatical rules or linguistic suggestions, showing the reader how to and how not to write. Each chapter bears a title hinting at or displaying the next grammatical concept he wants to discuss. From the very first chapter entitled “No sentence fragments.”, Safire gives a lesson in grammar by committing a grammatical error (with wit and purpose intended, of course).
Fumblerules is a hands-on experience in the world of grammar. When reading it, I had to reread a few paragraphs because Safire often embeds a lesson-within-a-lesson in his chapters. In chapter 15, Safire unpacks how writers should use alliteration — but not too much. The last sentence goes like this: “Only if speakers use alliteration like salt, sprinkling it sparingly, will we wary writers witness the return of ringing rhetoric.” In his explanation of using alliteration wisely, Safire blatantly used it in excess, driving his point home even more.
Safire's lessons are honest and concise. He wastes no time to warm up the reader to the next topic at hand; he goes for the meat of each grammatical concept with each chapter title. My favorite might have been “And don’t start sentences with a conjunction,” or maybe “If any word is improper at the end of a sentence, a linking verb is.”
After giving some of his personal remarks about the fumblerule, Safire then explains what parts of grammar are at stake in the sentences he employs. In his chapter on linking verbs at the end of a sentence, Safire writes, “A linking verb (as in to be, to seem and the sense verbs to feel, to smell, etc.) holds together, or links the subject to the zingy part of your sentence—the noun that explains or the adjective that describes the subject and gives the subject a purpose.” Later, in chapter 45, he provides a clear example of what to keep in mind when using idioms. “You can hone down a knife’s edge,” Safire writes, “and you can home in on an electronic beam leading to a destination, but you cannot hone in on anything.” Idioms are not logical phrases that writers can mix and match in their writing. Writers can play around with an idiom as long as they are aware of the idiom’s original meaning and construction.
Safire often continues to build on what he is saying until he reaches a humorous climax. This is how he ends the chapter called “Eschew dialect, irregardless”: “Irregardless, for example, is regardless intentionally mixed up with irrespective. If you use it knowing it’s a mistake, have fun; if you use it irregardless, it’s a mistake.”
I found Fumblerules to be an easy read. Although the entirety of the book consists of lesson after lesson of grammar, Safire keeps the train of thought rolling down the didactic tracks of each humorous page. He allows the reader to look at run-of-the-mill language concepts with the fresh eyes of a comedian, but the content he presents is reminiscent of the stuff of classroom discussions. Safire’s tone is colloquial; his topics are collegiate.
Fumblerules exemplifies the power of style. The author took on a subject that many others have written about throughout the centuries, adding originality and rhythm to his clear-cut writing. Considering all of his intentional misdemeanors in the realm of grammar, Safire’s writing was nonetheless free of error, in the sense that his message was vibrant and understandable. Safire was like a master carpenter, forming the structure of each linguistic instruction by placing each example—of good or bad writing—in the right place at the right time.
In light of Safire’s lightheartedness, I will end this review with the title of Fublerules’ closing chapter: “Last but not least, avoid clichés like the plague.”