Long ago, I voted
Thomas Boswell into my sports writing hall of
fame. I interviewed Tom in 1981 after he won
one of the first
American Society of Newspaper Editors Distinguished Writing Awards, and I've used examples of his good
work ever since, including in the book version of "Writing Tools."
Which is why I feel comfortable X-raying a passage from his recent work
-- without his knowledge and consent -- as a case study on the dreaded
adverb.
On Nov. 15, he wrote these two paragraphs to lead a
column on the art of hiring a new baseball manager:
When a previously
little-known major league coach becomes a manager, you never know
whether he's suited to his elevation in rank -- whether he is fundamentally comfortable with it and feels he belongs in the job -- until he is actually in it. By then, of course, it can be too late.
For team executives, that's part of the terror of a first-time
hire. The transformation can be quick and extreme. The
meltdown may start in the first news conference. Cal Ripken Sr., utterly
silent in public as a coach, believed it was his responsibility to "communicate" once he became the Orioles' manager. And he never
stopped talking until he was fired. Anecdotes, platitudes, pep
talks -- the words gushed endlessly. Then he instantly became baseball's Silent Cal again.
The Boz gives us six adverbs in two paragraphs (I've put them in bold to make them stand out).
Read the passage again, this time without the adverbs. Now test
whether the revision is better or worse. Here's my take:
Four of the adverbs do not modify -- that is, change -- the meaning of
the adjoining word. Those four adverbs merely (oops) intensify
the meaning.
-
"When a little-known major league coach..." The meaning is made without previously.
- "Whether he is comfortable with it..." The key word is comfortable. A needless degree is added by fundamentally.
- "... silent in public." Silent is such a strong word that the
reader gains nothing from utterly, unless Boz is playing on the words utter and silent.
- "Then he became baseball's Silent Cal again." The word instantly may add time to became, but the sequence of thoughts
makes that obvious.
That leaves two adverbs, which I might keep grudgingly (oops, again)
for rhythm. But maybe not. Couldn't this stand alone:
"... until he is in it." And does a powerful verb like
gush
benefit from modification?
I am demonstrating the ways I test adverbs in my own work. In
rough word math, I find 75 percent of my adverbs to be useless. But this is not a matter of right or wrong -- only cause and
effect. A useless adverb drains energy from the word it modifies.
But, hey kids, let's put it to a vote. Which of Boz's adverbs would you retain? Which would you toss?
If you send me your opinion, I may put it in a future blog entry:
rclark@poynter.org.
Arthur Plotnik offers this excerpt in the 6th chapter of...
