OK, see? This is why normal people hate grammar people. This is why I cringed throughout most of the research for my Modern English class in grad school.

“Don’t kill the Oxford comma!” over at salon.com.

Christ, calm down.

The Oxford comma – or serial comma – is the comma before the “and” in a series: I bought eggs, milk, and bacon. I don’t use the serial comma unless I absolutely have to, either under direct orders or to help the sentence make sense.

Here’s an example of when using the serial comma could mess up your sentence (stolen from Wikipedia):

In some circumstances the serial-comma convention can introduce ambiguity. An example would be a dedication reading:

To my mother, Ayn Rand, and God

The serial comma after Ayn Rand creates ambiguity about the writer’s mother because it uses punctuation identical to that used for an appositive phrase, leaving it unclear whether this is a list of three people (1, my mother; 2, Ayn Rand; and 3, God) or of only two people (1, my mother, who is Ayn Rand; and 2, God). Without a serial comma, the above dedication would read To my mother, Ayn Rand and God, a phrase ambiguous only if the reader is prepared to accept the unlikely interpretation my mother, who is both Ayn Rand and God.

Mostly, though, I think the serial comma just clutters things up. But oh my Lord do the serial comma people take it seriously. It’s not that I’m not passionate about grammar and commas and the always exciting use of the semicolon. But do we have to be so violent about this passion? One of the things that really bugged me about all the grammar mavens I had to use in my research in grad school was how completely, end-of-civilization snobbish they were about this stuff. In their minds, there were the right kind of people – their people – and the rest of the unwashed masses. (I’m looking at you, Newman and Safire.) And I gotta tell ya, that sort of attitude makes me want to drop commas willy-nilly and blow a big, juicy raspberry their way.

(It also made me write a whole paper on this in grad school. Wanna read it?)

My goal in any writing and editing is to communicate a message in the clearest, most effective way. That’s it. My goal is not to crack the whip of correctness or wring my hands over the deterioration of the King’s English or whatever. My first rule of editing has always been: If you can’t reconcile the grammar, rewrite the damn sentence.

Here’s a point in the Salon article that I think is particularly important:

It’s true that Oxford’s new punctuation guide is only for its P.R. department, and it comes with the clause that “when a comma would assist in the meaning of the sentence or helps to resolve ambiguity, it can be used.”

See? When it makes sense, the Oxford people are willing to bend their rules. But the hard-core Oxford comma defenders are not likely to be swayed.

And, yes, I recognize the absurd irony of me, Colleen, preaching tolerance and exemptions when it comes to grammar and punctuation (my sister, in particular, will be spewing out her drink right about now). But seriously.

I am reminded of one of my favorite books, “The Eyre Affair” by Jasper Fforde, which imagines an alternative reality to 1985 where literature is quite seriously the most discussed, fought-over bit of culture in the land of England (compared to now, where that title would be taken by God-awful reality shows). In the book, the question over who wrote Shakespeare’s plays is argued by two camps: the Baconians and the Marlovians. The war claims actual bloody casualties, it’s taken so seriously. I’m afraid that in grammar, Serial Comma vs. AP style is not far behind.

Sheesh.

(And now I’m off to read “The Eyre Affair” again.)