Newspaper English

 

Newspapers are in the front line in the defence of good written English — or the attack on it. Much modern journalism sets excellent examples of style and usage for its readers. Many of the serious papers run regular features — not too solemn or scholarly — on developments in language, and open their letters pages to debates on knotty points of grammar, language-teaching in schools, and so on.

At the other extreme, much journalism is rid­dled with cliches, grammatical errors, abuses of old words, and monstrous modern coinages. The idea, presumably, is to make the language of the articles or features both easy to understand and excitingly colourful. The effect, in the end, is to diminish understanding, by doing away with the need for the reader to do any thinking for himself — the way that muscles weaken if not allowed to do any exercise, or taste is dulled if subjected to spices only. And so far from being exciting and colourful, such writing soon becomes depressingly familiar: where everything is garish, nothing stands out.

Here are examples of the two styles at their best and worst:

In the English language there are many mansions, cellars, cupboards, departments, and registers; from Strine to Sociologese. The two great registers are written and spoke English, which are. almost two different languages. You have only to listen to a taperecorder of yourself speaking, or to read a transcript of an unscripted talk to see the dif­ference. Oral English is unbuttoned, ungrammatical, catachrestic, and full of pauses and cottonwool fillers such as 'You know what I mean' to give oneself time to work out what one is going to say next. It is to written English what, in the wardrobe, jeans and a T-shirt are to the old fish-and-soup white tie and tails.

Very few people speak as they write; and they tend to be sages. I am told that Bertie Russell and Bernard Shaw spoke in the same sort of structured way that they wrote.

- Philip Howard, The Times

 

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In between these two very different styles lies a use of English that is usually accepted and respected by language-experts for what it is — a clear and concise vehicle for direct and economical reporting. Its admirers draw attention to its efficient streamlining of grammar and (at its best) its closeness to everyday spoken English. Here is an example of this simple yet robust style:

Ringo the loyal Labrador muzzled up to his old master and licked a smile back onto Bill Knapp's wrinkled face.

The pensioner had spent a dismal weekend worrying about how he was going to save his pet from being put down.

Two court decisions had gone against him but yesterday Mr Knapp, 72, vowed: ‘I’ll take my case all the way to the House of Lords if I can.'

The death sentence — first imposed by Hastings magistrates in November and upheld by Lewes Crown Court on Friday — was the dog's penalty for biting four people who went to his owner's aid when he fell on his way home from the pub.

Mr Knapp pleaded that Ringo was only trying to guard him.

- Daily Mail

Only a pedant would dismiss this use of language out of hand. Certainly it is better than the old-style 'journalese', which, in addition to its sensationalism and superficiality tended incongruously to use complicated, long-winded, and pompous sentences, and inflated vocabulary.

Even in the British press, where there is a widely accepted division between the upmarket ‘quality’ newspapers and the ‘popular’ tabloid the borders between the various styles are not very clearly demarcated. The quality papers, for instance, often use clever word play in their headlines, whereas the equivalent papers in North America and Europe retain the tradition of purely informative, almost solemn, headlines.

Most of the criticism directed against newspaper English these days is in fact directed - not always fairly - at the popular press. ‘Tabloid Enghsh’ can in fact be crisp, vibrant, and efficient. Unfortunately, it can also be flabby, mindless, and extremely irritating. Here are some of its characteristics, some good, some bad.

Headlines Headline writers on a newspaper are pulled in two directions: they want to convey maximum information, but they have to do it in minimum space. For a start, verbs, articles, prepositions, and so on tend to be left out of headlines, much as they are in telegrams: Heir in murder probe; Lead banned from paint. The sim­ple present tense is widely used — Poland mourns slain priest — instead of the past tense or pre­sent continuous (mourned or is mourning). Nouns are used as adjectives — Germ war secrets leak row (a recent front-page headline in the Daily Mail); Bread riot death toll tops 1000. And a vocabulary of snappy shorthand synonyms develops: including the words probe, to ban, to slay, and to top used in the above examples.

There is another convention in the British press — even the serious papers, as mentioned above, often light-heartedly join in it: the use of pun­ning, alliterative, teasing, or facetious headlines. Sometimes the effect is witty and welcome: Whisky exporter on the rocks; The end of the world (a headline announcing the relegation of the Scottish soccer team from contention in the World Cup). Sometimes it is laboured: Ship-makers on crest of a wave; Musicians' union strikes a sour note. Sometimes it is just irritating: Cat show's purrfect prizewinner; Luscious ladies in lucky legs contest.

On the whole, the serious papers do not allow 'headline language' to spread from the headline to the report or article itself. The tabloids, to a greater or lesser extent, do use headline language in the text: probe, to ban, to seize, and to top are transferred from the headline (where they are valued for their brevity) to the body of the report — where they are valued for their supposedly punchy and exciting effect and their up-to-date feel.

The irony is that, through overuse, they have lost most of their punch, and that many are anything but up-to-date: to seize, for instance, sounds extremely old-fashioned in speech, yet is freely used in newspapers that boast of their modern and colloquial English style. Some of the dozens of other uncolloquial tabloid-terms are listed below.

Cramped wording Another characteristic of headline language has penetrated into the news-story itself — that is, the build-up of key words side by side: The Belgravia porn-club rumour is the subject of an official Scotland Yard probe, for example. This piling up of syntax is in fact more tedious to sort out than the looser structure of a more traditional piece of reporting: The allegation that there is a pornography club in Belgravia is to be investigated officially by the Metropolitan Police.