UNTHINKABLE

After spending nearly two years researching and writing a book about punctuation (Punctuation Revisited: A Strategic Guide for Academics, Wordsmiths, and Obsessive Perfectionists, Routledge, 2020), I ultimately came to the inescapable conclusion: punctuation errors are not that big a deal.

Seriously? How could I possibly come to believe what months earlier—or, more precisely, a lifetime earlier—would have been unthinkable? What happened? Simply put, I came to realize and grudgingly accept that the proliferation of punctuation mistakes, however big or small, seldom interferes with readability. Although I found errors everywhere—in emails, social media postings, all types of reports, and occasionally scholarly articles—readers seemed to know how to navigate the meaning of the sentence, even when its punctuation might have led them astray.

When we read, “Among those interviewed were his [Merle Haggard’s] two ex-wives, Kris Kristofferson and Robert Duvall,” we surely know Kristofferson and Duvall are not the ex-wives referenced, however intriguing that might sound. Similarly, we know that “let’s eat Grandma” reflects a comma omission and not a call to munch on Grandma.   

Yes, punctuation errors can lower your credibility, but only if (1) they are recognized by your reader and (2) your reader cares. Neither condition, let alone both, is usually met. More often, punctuation mistakes are never noticed by the reader, who is unlikely to know many of the rules of punctuation, let alone the fine points of their application. Even when the knowledgeable reader spots an error—for example, a construction treated as restrictive when it should be non-restrictive—it does not alter the reading experience. Should Mary write, “I want to thank my husband John for all their help on punctuation,” the reader will likely assume Mary has just one husband, even though the restrictive construction says otherwise.

So punctuation does not matter at all? Not so fast. Readers do seem to recognize and care about gross punctuation mistakes, such as plurals masquerading as possessives (“I love apple’s and pear’s”); run-on sentences that go on forever; and commas appearing out of nowhere or, conversely, never appearing anywhere. Gross punctuation errors, much like gross grammatical errors do lower your credibility insofar as the reader apprehends them.

To say that incorrect punctuation usually does not pose a significant problem, then, is not to categorically diminish the role of punctuation, especially when we get it right. When we do, we make it easier—and more enjoyable—for the reader to navigate our meaning and fully appreciate what we are trying to say. So how do we get it right?

Ideally, we ought to re-envision our approach to punctuation, notably the way it is taught in schools. Rather than obsessing over rules and calling out every punctuation error ever made, we should embrace and celebrate the rich potential of punctuation to augment expression. We should encourage students to take advantage of the opportunities punctuation offers to craft sentences that are inviting, engaging, and powerful. We should see punctuation less as rules and more as tools.

Accomplished writers, of course, have long understood that “in speech, the prosody of a sentence (its melody, rhythm, and pausing),” as Steven Pinker points out, “eliminates any possibility of the reader taking a wrong turn. . . . Punctuation, together with other graphical indicators such as italics, capitalization, and spacing, developed over the history of printed language . . . provide the reader with hints about prosody, thus bringing writing a bit closer to speech.”

The colorful prosody that punctuation offers extends from the creative use of the period found in text messaging (I. will. not. do. your. homework) to the dramatic decisiveness expressed by the colon (Asked if I could ever be friends with someone who would never use a comma, my answer was simple: no) to the semicolon’s elegant balancing of complementary ideas (I like grammar; I love punctuation). And, of course, who would dare ignore the ability of the simple question mark to summarily express doubt and incredulity? Would anyone? Anyone? Still, my favorite form of punctuation hands down is the multifaceted em-dash—that’s right, the dash. I love—really love—using dashes.