… but their content stinks. Here’s an example, from an opinion piece in today’s Boston Globe.

The title tells us The Way to Fight a Recession. The way to fight a recession is for businesses to keep going, expand, never say die, beat back their fear, etc. There’s a coffee shop chain that’s doing just that, and the writer commends them. But there’s another business, a developer named Harvard, that isn’t doing that, and the writer berates them.

… I’m standing along Western Avenue in Allston, construction site of Harvard University’s much trumpeted science center. The new complex is just the first part of what has been promised to be an epic transformation of the area. Or at least, that was the hope. The tall red construction cranes are still busy clearing the area, but Drew Faust, Harvard’s president, has just announced that the university is putting on the brakes. For the moment, work proceeds, but at the end of the year the school will reassess. This has come as a shock to many, especially Allston residents, who now fear they may be stuck indefinitely with what some call the Harvard Hole. And the rest of the projects? No one is saying, but things don’t look good.

Both of these are recession stories, tales of two significant organizations (Harvard, America’s oldest college, and Nespresso, a unit of Swiss food giant Nestle) with two different approaches to the economic crisis. One bulls forward. The other quails. [Yeah, what’s Harvard afraid of? Ain’t it a for-profit corporation just like Nestle? Isn’t it all about the bottom line, just like Nestle?]

… A reported 30 percent drop in the value of its endowment seems to have thrown the university into a tizzy. [A few hundred million off their bottom line and look what the weenies do! A tizzy! Don’t they know they’re a money-generating multinational that has to keep going in order to do what they’ve been created to do — generate money?]

… Economies are strange things. Sophisticated computer modeling, Nobel Prizes, and great thinkers notwithstanding, no one can really explain how to make them grow or why they shrink. Presented with an illness, a group of doctors would pretty quickly figure out how to assess, diagnose, and treat. That’s because medicine really is a science. Economics, pretensions otherwise, is not. Put 100 economists in a room, and the only sure thing you’d get would be 100 different theories. One can see this in today’s throw-it-on-the-wall-and-see-what-sticks approach to economic policy making or in the profession’s slippery language: consumer “confidence,” “virtuous” circles, “giddy” (or “panicked”) investors. There’s an almost self-fulfilling, touchy-feely quality to this: If we believe things are going to be good, then they will be. If we believe otherwise, then they won’t be. [Put aside the fact that medicine — especially that queen of twisted research and conflict of interest, psychiatry — is a notoriously inexact science. Concentrate only on the nonchalance with which this writer dismisses the many economists who warned money managers like those at Harvard that their risky investments would implode.]

So when a company such as Nespresso spends money and makes plans, it sends a message — the bad times will end, growth will resume. If enough companies behaved the same way, then indeed, the economy would turn. Harvard, too, is sending a message. “If Harvard can’t build, who can?” worried one construction industry publication. Perhaps, many will conclude, no one can, and, as a consequence, no one will. [Yes, the American construction giant Harvard needs to set an example, so that other construction companies around the country — Yale, Princeton — and other more specialized builders — for instance, sport franchise/construction ventures like the University of Georgia and the University of Minnesota, can be emboldened by Harvard’s business plan and keep growing.] …

… Fatiguée, as Nigella Lawson notes, is what the French call greens that have lost their crispness, from sitting around too long, or from too much dressing.

Writing can be wilted in the same ways – from sitting around too long, or from being drizzled with too many words.

The problem of tired writing compounds when your subject is itself superannuated.

Yet most subjects are old.  Not much crisp under the sun.  The point of being a good writer is taking something new to the plate.  Plumping things up so people see some aspect of the world fresh.

Consider, for instance, a seasonal problem.

Everyone knows big time university basketball is a rank enseamèd dish, stew’d in corruption.  Every March sports writers get up on little ladders and scrounge in their pantries for the canned indignation.

But why?  Why do that?  Limp writing makes nothing happen.  It’s mere ritual.  It’s filing a story because you’ve got space to fill by Tuesday.  Jim Calhoun has a job to do, and so do you.

But if you had the scruples whose lack you attack in Calhoun, you wouldn’t inflict this sort of futility on your readers.

… From showcase summer camps, to AAU tournaments, to street agents, to runners from professional agents, this is the landscape schools live in. This is the basketball culture, and for all of the NCAA’s attempts to control it, it always seems to get worse, a cesspool of inherent corruption. To the point where the NCAA recently ruled that a seventh-grader is now regarded as a “recruitable” athlete.

Think about that for a second.

Which is not to say that all schools break the rules.

It is to say, though, that this is the basketball world all schools operate in, to the point where virtually all big-time programs are fragile, a deck of cards that has the potential to crumble at any minute, whether it’s off-campus problems, allegations of recruiting violations, rumors of being carried academically, or other supposed atrocities that highlight the fact that players often are not like the other students on campus, regardless of the hype to try to convince people that there are.

Suffice it to say there are no virgins here.

Let’s scathe through that, shall we?

“From showcase summer camps, to AAU tournaments, to street agents, to runners from professional agents, this is the landscape schools live in. [The list’s okay, though all the tos are a bit awkward. Ending on in is weak; remember that you always want to end your sentence on a strong word.   And keep an eye on that landscape metaphor.] This is the basketball culture, [This is. This is. Repetition can be effective, but in this case it feels weak, in part because the language is so blah. We begin to doubt the writer’s conviction.]  and for all of the NCAA’s attempts to control it, it always seems to get worse, a cesspool of inherent corruption.  [It gets worse because the NCAA doesn’t attempt to control it, so here the writer signals his refusal to take on the heavy labor of actual critique. Things get more tired by the minute.   And a cesspool of inherent corruption tells you everything you need to know about l’écriture fatiguée.  Forget the quick transmutation of a landscape into a cesspool, and think instead about the lazy effort to lend a lifeless salad some life by suddenly spicing it way up.  Cesspool is a big ol’ word, way out there. You want to reserve it for something really big, like your suicide note (“Dear World,” wrote George Sanders, “I am leaving because I am bored.  I feel I have lived long enough.  I am leaving you with your worries in this sweet cesspool.  Good luck.”), or for a piece of your best writing, in which you demonstrate conviction.]

To the point where the NCAA recently ruled that a seventh-grader is now regarded as a “recruitable” athlete.  [Dump the quotation marks.]

Think about that for a second.

Which is not to say that all schools break the rules.

It is to say, though, that this is the basketball world all schools operate in, [Note the clumsy wordiness, the overuse of the to be verb, the ineffective repetition.]  to the point where virtually all big-time programs are fragile, a deck of cards  [Dead metaphor.]  that has the potential to crumble at any minute, whether it’s off-campus problems, allegations of recruiting violations, rumors of being carried academically, or other supposed atrocities [Tone problem.  What does he mean by calling these things supposed atrocities?  I don’t get it.] that highlight the fact that players often are not like the other students on campus, regardless of the hype to try to convince people that there are.  [There instead of they.  Mistakes will occur when you’re doing automatic writing.]

Suffice it to say there are no virgins here.  [Off we go to another dead metaphor.]”

*******************

Update:  UD is grateful to James, a reader, for pointing out that both of her fatiguées take an extra e.

No, James.  You are not a pest.

*********************

Another Update:  This is more like it.  The guy actually cares.

SOS is always screaming that at you. Your writing is you. It is extremely revelatory.

Good writers realize this and learn how to control the effect they make. Whatever sort of SOB you may in reality be, you have to learn how to control your prose so as to come across as the sort of person your reader will — let’s say you’re writing a polemical piece — agree with.

Poor writers, like the sap below, cannot help revealing themselves in ways damaging to their argument. Let’s see how they do this.

A former trustee at the University of Connecticut wishes to come to the defense of the university’s basketball coach, the highest-paid public employee in the state, and a motherfucker.

How to do this?

Well, not this way.

*************************************

“I have read and heard with irritation [Lordy, lordy. Just how many times has ol’ SOS told you that emotion is the enemy of argumentation? First sentence! I’m irritated! And who talks like this? What’s the tone? From the very, very start, what’s the tone? Queen Victoria, that’s the tone. Pompous. Vaguely bullying. Way to step up to the plate.] the attacks on the University of Connecticut’s men’s basketball coach Jim Calhoun and his reaction to quizzing about his income, his university-approved outside income opportunities, and a suggestion that he take a cut in salary to aid the university in its current financial crisis.

I would like to provide my perspective on Jim Calhoun and his relationship and importance to the university. [Drop this sentence. Totally unnecessary, and somehow adds to the sense of irritable self-importance.]

During the 1990s, Jim Calhoun was one of the five most valuable individuals in bringing interest to the university and in raising awareness of the value of the university to the state’s economy. [Cruel of the newspaper to run this without edits. Individual is a deadly word, labored and impersonal. And note the vagueness of the repeated word value, and the empty word interest. This is inhuman prose. This is a stiff bureaucrat.] In particular, the successes Coach Calhoun directed on the court have played a pivotal role in the state’s providing $2 billion support to rebuild the University of Connecticut, both physically and academically.

Jim Calhoun is also in the first tier of individuals I’ve known during the past 20 years who have given the most significant portion of their time and resources, including their money, back to UConn. [Individuals again. And it doesn’t matter how much money you give back. It matters how much money you’re overpaid. This is the Massa Saban approach to university life: Give obscene compensation to coaches and then, when the shit hits the fan and they give a little back to save their ass, praise the coach as a great benefactor.] While facing repeated health issues of his own, there has never been a “no” in Jim Calhoun’s vocabulary [Never been a “no.” Writing like this gives everyone health issues. And note the Queen for a Day form of defense here: You bastards are going after a sick man! Yet Calhoun looked mighty strong the other day, when he said no with very little effort to a reporter. No, I won’t return a penny of my compensation to the state. No No. No. Said no a whole lot. Definitely has the word in his vocabulary.] concerning his support of the health center, the cardiology center, the fight against cancer and the battle to overcome autism. [Note the absolutely dead trite language. Battle to overcome autism. Of course, this is about clueless self-importance, too. The writer actually thinks you’re stupid enough to take out your hankie at this point and demand a salary increase for Calhoun.]

I do not curse; so from time to time, I too blanch when Jim expresses his competitiveness and passion in his interaction with his players. [Things are going from worse to worser. We might be able to consider the writer a human being like ourselves, despite his robotic prose, if he cursed. But he doesn’t. Or he feels it’s a clever move to tell us he doesn’t. Interaction goes beautifully with individual in this man’s utterly unreal and unfeeling world.] I have many friends, but I dare say that their friendship and loyalty to me does not exceed the loyalty, friendship, respect and love that is evident from the players who have experienced Jim’s rants as well as his genuine caring. [Just because the Connecticut team is composed of masochists doesn’t mean I should admire their sadist.] From Clifford Robinson to Donyell Marshall to Kevin Ollie to Ray Allen to Rip Hamilton to Caron Butler to Emeka Okafor and all the rest of Huskies from the Calhoun era: Each of their lives and careers have benefited from the contact and mentoring from their coach.

During my tenure as chairman of the board of trustees at UConn, it was vividly clear to me that, from a straight dollar vantage point, Jim Calhoun more than meets the test of value given for dollars received, apart from his giving of his time and money. The investment in Jim Calhoun by the university has been repaid to UConn, and the entire state, many times over.

In 1986, no one believed that Connecticut could become one of the truly elite college basketball programs in the country. The pride that an entire state now possesses because of UConn’s basketball success is priceless. And the entertainment value provided by the Huskies is priceless. [To be sure, every citizen swells with pride because one of its university teams wins games. Also because the team’s coach has been reprimanded by the governor and is the object of hostile legislation from state representatives.]

The national spotlight that basketball success has been able to shine on the words Connecticut and UConn is also priceless. [Well, I suspect Calhoun’s cost will be able to be reckoned. Let’s see what the legislature has to say about it.]

The UConn Athletic Department recently signed important, budget-assisting 10-year agreements with outside contractors in the apparel/footwear (Nike) and corporate partner programs (IMG). Does anyone doubt that the presence of Jim Calhoun as our Hall of Fame, two-time national championship coach played a pivotal role in the desire of those companies to align themselves with UConn athletics? [We can take pride in these commercial arrangements!]

Jim Calhoun has given back and will continue to give back to the University of Connecticut, always providing that “giving” in his own private style. [Quotation marks around “giving” just right, as Calhoun gives the state the finger in his own private style.]”

Scathing Online Schoolmarm hates quotation marks. But she knows there are times when you’ve simply got to use them.

Here’s a perfect example, from an article in Forbes giving advice about philanthropy.

Inquire about whether or not there is a conflict of interest policy in place. Is the investment manager on the board of the organization (i.e., Bernard Madoff was on the board of Yeshiva University and “managed” their investments)?

A former Western Kentucky University professor pleads “guilty” to federal program fraud.

The U.S. Attorney’s office says Katrina Phelps entered into a “plea agreement” today, where she admits intentionally misapplying $27,087.20 from Western Kentucky University.

[“Guilty”? “plea agreement”? Why the quotation marks? Did she not really plead guilty? Is it not really a plea agreement? Am I living in Upper Volta where we don’t use terms like guilty and plea agreement, so you have to put them in quotation marks to introduce them to me?]

Phelps admits from March 2005 to December 2007, she took the proceeds from 16 checks from a justice department grant, and misapplied the funds.

As part of her plea agreement, Phelps agrees to pay full restitution to WKU, prior to her sentencing.

The maximum potential penalties for Phelps’ offense, include ten years in prison, a $250,000 fine, and supervised release for up to 3 years.

Adds piquancy that these were from the justice department… “Background” “here.”

… for mixing metaphors?

When you’re all hepped up and you want your writing to be red hot.

Beware, says Scathing Online Schoolmarm.

He took Capitol Hill by storm Wednesday, unleashing a double blow of written and spoken testimony that painted a devastating picture of the alleged Ponzi schemer Madoff and unleashed withering criticism of the Securities and Exchange Commission and Financial Industry Regulatory Authority.

Calm down, laddie! Your writing’s a withered painting that really blows.

LITERACY MINISTRY TOLD TO
USE PLAIN ENGLISH IN REPORTS

It’s from The Independent.

The Government department responsible for universities is castigated today for its “impenetrable” language “peppered with jargon” in its reports.

MPs on the Commons select committee monitoring the new Department for Innovation, Universities and Skills – which is also responsible for courses in basic literacy for adults – have told its civil servants to use plain English.

It accuses them of using “jargon-riddled phrases” and “euphemisms deflecting likely failure”. It cites part of the annual report, which says the department has a “challenging growth strategy for 2010”: that is, it is unlikely to meet targets. Other examples of obscure language include sentences such as: “An overarching national improvement strategy will drive up quality and performance underpinned by specific plans for strategically significant areas of activity, such as workforce and technology.”

… Even Ian Whatmore, the department’s Permanent Secretary, could not explain what this meant when asked by MPs. The department itself refused to translate it to The Independent yesterday.

Everybody’s covering the story. Let’s see what else they’re saying.

MPs said the department’s new annual report – used to measure its progress – contained so much “impenetrable” jargon that whole sections were “nearly impossible to read or understand”.

Giving evidence to the committee, even the DIUS permanent secretary Ian Watmore was “unable to explain the meaning” of one passage, MPs

Phil Willis, the committee’s Liberal Democrat chairman, said: “We were less than satisfied with the DIUS report, which we found unhelpful and too reliant on promoting a positive tone rather than providing us with clear and comprehensive information.

“While we appreciate that it will take some time for DIUS’s work to be realised, this must not be used as an excuse to produce a sub-standard report. A more concise report written in plain English with independently verified statistics would be of far greater use next year.”

A DIUS spokesman said the department had achieved a “great deal” in the past 18 months and would be replying in detail to the report.

“We are confident that DIUS is well placed to meet the challenges of the future and our work remains at the forefront of the Government’s response to the economic downturn, giving real help now to individuals and businesses,” he said.

Confidently striding forth to meet the challenge of the future, the DIUS is unable, even humiliated for it on an international scale, to write in any other way, you see. Euphemism, cliche, vague reassurance, jargon — Strange to realize that you learn this prose and this pose not merely in American schools of education. This language has the whole ed-world in its hands. We call it eduspeak here. There’s no degree of public humiliation which will change it, because the people who use it don’t understand its criticism. It’s like asking the Australian civil servants who wrote a report about depression what’s wrong with this:

MH-QUERI has partnered with VA organizational leaders to develop a focused yet flexible plan to address key factors to prepare for national dissemination and implementation of collaborative care for depression. Early indications suggest that the plan is laying an important foundation that will enhance the likelihood of successful implementation and spread across the VA healthcare system.

Same lethal bullshit. SOS is convinced a person can die from too much exposure to this. Who wants to live in a world of smiling automata always telling you things are great, moving right along, focused yet flexible? Haven’t we already seen that world in its full smiling flowering?

Yes, comrades, the Five-Year is right on track, focused yet flexible, laying an important foundation whose significant strategy for driving up quality will drive up quality…. You see how this totalitarian writing technique relies on the assumption that you are as much a mindless automaton as the totalitarian writer? There’s a strange intimacy in this approach… It says You’re exactly like me. We’re all alike. We all live within a self-pleasuring fog… We float about within a world of happy psychic stasis, constantly stimulated in a low-level way… It’s okay… It’s okay… says this writing… Everything’s fine… Always has been… Always will be… Things are just fine… And they’re getting even better… Sleep now… Let the fog of my letters envelope you…

To die: to sleep;

No more; and by a sleep to say we end

The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish’d.

Yeah… what the hell… bring it… on………