In editing, some things are easy. I could correct the
improper use of lie versus lay in my sleep, for example. Easy. Other
things are less easy, less clear, sometimes downright puzzling. Some things can
leave me feeling like I don’t know this English business so good as I thunk I
do.
Consider the comma. In form it’s a period with a cute little
tail. In function, a comma can be the difference between a sentence making
sense and well not (and, well, not). Just how important are these cute little
comma critters? The 16th edition of the Chicago Manual of Style devotes one page to the period, two pages
to the colon, and over thirteen pages to the comma. Thirteen pages to explain
comma usage, and some of us still have questions!
Chicago advises, “Effective use of the comma involves good
judgment, with ease of reading the end in view” (6.16). Sounds easy enough, and
often it is easy. Some sentences like this one cry out for commas (Some
sentences, like this one, cry out…). But “ease of reading” implies you already
know what the sentence is supposed to say; alas, for editors, this is often not
the case.
Classification of comma users
Comma users (yes, I know "comma user" is not a "thing") can be sorted into three broad categories: those who love commas and use too many of them; those who have some sort of aversion to commas and use too few of them; and those who use commas just right. Consider these passages that might fit into a little tale titled “Goldilocks and the Three Comma Users”:
Too many:
As she slept, in the comfy bed, three, big, brown bears came
in, and the biggest one, the old, and grumpy, father, said…
Too few:
As she slept in the comfy bed three big brown bears came in
and the biggest one the old and grumpy father said…
Just right:
As she slept in the comfy bed, three big brown bears came
in, and the biggest one, the old and grumpy father, said…
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