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“Writing is thinking. To write well is to think clearly. That’s why it’s so hard.”
— David McCullough, 2002
This weekend, as millions take to the streets in the “No Kings” protests — a nationwide movement rejecting the idea of unchecked power, the spectacle of coronation, and authoritarian ascendancy — we are reminded of the power of language. The protest slogan itself, “No Kings,” is raw, direct, unadorned: a refusal of royal trappings and a claim for democracy.
When H. W. Fowler and his brother F. G. Fowler published The King’s English in 1906, they offered more than grammar lessons. They issued a manifesto for honesty in prose: a rebellion against pomposity, pretension, and the “weasel words” that drained speech of its moral vigor.
Their creed was simple: to write clearly is to think honestly. They believed that style revealed the soul; that sloppy language betrayed sloppy thought.
More than a hundred years later, their admonitions read like dispatches to our own digital age — an era as noisy, narcissistic, and imprecise as the one they scolded.
Here are a few enduring highlights from The King’s English — lessons for those who still believe words matter.
1. Plain Words: The Republic of the Short and Simple
The Fowlers loathed verbal bloat. They ridiculed the bureaucrat who wrote,
“The state of Poland … has been of a far more serious nature than has been allowed to transpire.”
Their fix:
“More serious than has been admitted.”
Shorter. Sharper. Clearer.
“Every unnecessary syllable clouds the thought.”
The plain word, they said, is not vulgar — it’s democratic. The English language, like any healthy republic, works best when its servants speak plainly.
2. Mixed Meanings and Malaprops: The Comedy of Error
Every age has its verbal pratfalls. The Fowlers collected them like butterflies:
Perspicuity (clearness) for perspicacity (insight).
Complaisant (obliging) for complacent (self-satisfied).
Demean oneself confused with demean (to degrade).
“Precision is not pedantry, but the lifeblood of meaning.”
Each slip is a small act of unintended poetry — and a reminder that accuracy is the highest form of courtesy.
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