Offense Will Be Taken: An Inquiry Into the Use of the Adverb, the Adjective, and the Passive Voice
Shelly Lowenkopf -- March 28, 2006
One of the great joys inherent in the American version of the English language is its relaxed policy at the borders. We may be uptight in the matter of immigration, but we require no green cards when it comes to providing homes and work papers for words, phrases, and concepts from other languages.
Because of its open-door policy, American English is a powerful argument for the philosophy that a language, however much it grows, is an agent for clarity, diversity, and effectiveness where the transmission of ideas and information are concerned.
Three elements exist within the language that can, if not watched with a practice eye, can bring it to grief, having a negative effect on its ability to inform and, as well, to entertain.
Standing before us, like suspects in a police line up, are the adverb, the adjective, and a tendency some of us have to take the action away from the subject and move it over to the object. In other words, instead of allowing the action to come from the subject, some of us allow things to go from the active voice to the passive.
None of these aspects of language is wrong in any legal-grammatical-sense. Indeed, adjectives, adverbs, and passive voice are a part of the linguistic spice rack at our command whenever we use the language.
Let's start with the adjective, which is intended to enhance the perception of a person, place, or thing, as in, Stay away from him; he's a grouch. Or, don't go there; it's always so cold. Or, Don't touch that; it's contaminated. Used with proper care, adjectives give us a sense (and possibly sensual) awareness of things. Used without selectivity, adjectives can become a clutter, a distraction or--worse--a confusion. A chef I once met had a theory I very much like whereby a particular culinary creation be composed of only five elements, chosen for their nutritional value but also to keep the taste experience clear. Adjectives are not merely friends, they are dear friends. As writers, we need to learn their power and to understand how to be judicious in their use, lest we bury the nouns in detail that addles the reader rather than braces him.
The adverb deserves special consideration because, in its most common form, words ending in "ly," the adverb can transform an elegant and immediate-sounding sentence into a quagmire, a clunky, defensive-sounding bog, waiting to founder on uncertainty. Try this simple test every time you are tempted to use an adverb: Would the adverb still be necessary if you were to use a more graphic verb? Another test to apply: Does the adverb trump the verb and produce a kind of self-parody that inheres with such locutions as: "If you come any closer, I'll shoot," she said menacingly.
I go out of my way to avoid using adverbs, but then, in revision, I come to yet another standard: Have I created greater clunkiness in my avoidance strategies than I would have if I were to use an adverb? My best sense here is to be careful with my verb choices, particularly when the verb happens to be to be. And I find it helpful to keep a list of non--ly-word adverbs, words such as so. These are useful and legitimate enhancements of the language.
The passive voice is worth a position paper of its own, since there are without doubt places where it neither slows down or obfuscates, but I am a firm believer in the active transmission of information, hopeful that on occasion I can slip in a little entertainment. Passive voice sounds laborious and opaque to my ears; it causes my eyes to blink; it allows you, the reader, to make more assumptions than I intend. And so, to keep things moving along, I favor the straightforward briskness of the declarative sentence, embellished with the adjective selected with care, emboldened by the adverb that does not make my verb of choice appear to be like a patient receiving physical therapy or requiring a walker.