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6-24-01
This is one of my most normal works. I put it together in 1996 when an opportunity arose to submit some of my work to the publisher wife of a well-known novelist. I wrote it back in the days when I suffered under the delusion that I might become a well-known writer. Nothing came of that "opportunity." but another one arose later, and I published this collection.
2-5-01
response to comments I've received from several readers re use of which/that in life stories:

      a number of readers have complained about my use of "which" in unrestrictive clauses. Simply put: I disagree with this convention. Diana Hacker in Rules For Writers (an expert/source I respect and admire) says:
      "Many writers reserve which for nonrestrictive clauses, and that for restrictive clauses."
      Since Hacker includes this statement as a note following her section on this subject, and not as a part of the section proper, I am led to believe that this is not a hard and fast "rule" so much as it is a guideline. And the fact that "many" writers do this makes me want to do otherwise. (I never want to be a part of the crowd.) And, in any case, when there is any doubt in my mind as to usage, I always opt for the way the phrasing sounds. If it sounds right to me, I use it. Within reason, I go for a colloquial speech pattern as the narrator's voice in almost all my writing. In this case, "which" is often used (in my area of the world at least) as frequently as "that"--and disregarding the type of clause which it opens. (Actually, in this last case, the sound would dictate that I use "that." But I thought I would try to be clever by breaking the rule once again.)
      As for those of you who complained about this usage (this is directed mainly at the guy who was slightly less than civil, demonstrating a "holier-than-thou" attitude, apparently believing himself to be a card-carrying member of the Grammar Gestapo), I say: get your thumb out of your ass and worry about something important, like maybe world hunger or the hole in the ozone layer. Language and its grammar are in constant flux and always, ultimately, derived from colloquial speech, and to pin usage down to rules is such an anal practice anyway. Loosen up.

[I wrote the above note after having given up the search thru my journals for the following piece I wrote a while ago. Now I've found it]:


6-20-00
In defense against criticism (as if this is important) of my most recent book
life stories
a fragmentation

I have developed, over time, a list of arguments, to be applied against spurious criticism
(all criticism is self-criticism, being denial and projection):

1. the sound argument: It just sounds better, more natural, the colloquial way. First of all, since it is the most commonly cited "mistake," whether I use which/that inappropriately is irrelevant. In common parlance they are interchangeable, and my work is of a common parlance. [I know the difference between the grammatical uses of which and that. I just don't happen to agree with the "rule" for their usage. Diana Hacker (who should know) in Rules For Writers (I hate that title), p.237, states: "Many writers reserve which for nonrestrictive clauses, and that for restrictive clauses." Many writers. That means that it is not so hard and fast a rule, and I have never wanted to be one of the many, and anyway, writing rules tend to become more lax over time. [There's a rule about comparatives too, something to do with the number of syllables, but, hey, who needs all of these rules. Them old rules is only in your head.] Second, and finally, the same argument applies to all of the other criticisms.

And, I found this in the following month's journal, apparently having forgotten that I'd written of it the previous month [this is the essential nature of / motive for my art: I write it down so that I won't forget it, but I forget it anyway, and even when I remember that I wrote it, I forget where it was that it was written (stored); I publish in order to make some kind of sense out of these notes I write, mostly to myself, because, having gone to all the trouble, I might as well make something out of the effort.]

2. the narration argument: Narration is a loose and forgiving format. My narrator/s, who is/are/not me, has/have no literary agenda. These are not sophisticated people. I am/not, everyone I write about, un/incorporated; I am/not become a population. I am a reporter, of people integral to myself. I know better, sometimes, when they do not, so much.

3. the gender argument: In order to accommodate a liberal culture which/that tries to reverse the damage done by millennia of verbal domination, and at the same time to avoid unwieldy constructions resulting from changing he/him and its corresponding verb number to they/their or (worse) to he/she//him/her (which is still more of the same, i.e., placing the male pronoun first, when she/he//her/him might be even more terrible, if it provokes an intransigency caused by backlash), plural antecendents/referentials should be allowed to follow singular nouns/pronouns. And if we are going to allow this deviation from the "rules" (it must be obvious by now that I hate rules, of any kind, even the ones I make up myself), we may as well go all the way and do away with noun/antecedent agreement all together. Which leads directly to the next argument:

4. the historical argument: I do not agree that we have been making verbal progress throughout history. We change one set of arbitrary rules for another, gradually, as whim and taste dictate. Grammar and literary convention has its basis, not in some Platonic-like ideal, but in colloquial speech. We say it first, and slowly, more slowly than is necessary, far more slowly than is intellectually good for us, the literary/grammatical community comes into agreement with us (i.e., the people; the literary/grammatical community cannot really be considered a subset of "the people" now, can it? It is an organism apart.) Remember the (really) good old days when Samuel Johnson, et al., began compiling dictionaries because everyone spelled the same words differently? Wouldn't it have been great to write at that time, spelling any word in whatever way you felt appropriate? What a boon that must have been to poetry and poetic prose.

5. the postmodern argument: [There is no argument here; just do whatever the hell you feel like, it's a free country, despite the greedy corporations.]

6. the sense argument: You know what I mean so why be such tight-assed particular grammatical fools? Life's too short. Relax. Worry about something important, if you have to worry. All over the world people are dying at the whims of repressive governments, and you're complaining about how and when I use which and that? Get over yourselves.

7. the spelling argument: The same sense rationale applies to spelling. Volcanos/volcanoes, smooths/ smoothes, wildebeast/wildebeest (I know it's wildebeeeest, but I'm writing in English and I wanted to emphasize a beastly nature), these are irrelevancies--except when Dan Qualye does it. And as for hyphenated words: these, least of all, are significant. Hyphenation is an anti-grammatical practice. It's the most common attempt to influence the grammatical canon posthaste: over time, two words become hyphenated, and then they become one word.

8. the grammar argument: Only slightly less irrelevant are your/you're, its/it's and the like. Okay. There are some instances where misused language begins to mess with the natural structure of meaning. But these occurrences [if it were my world, I'd spell this "occurances"] in my book are oversights akin to typos, not bad grammar. I know better, I just missed them, all right? [I'm surprised to learn that "alright" is becoming acceptable. I remember being chastised in school for using that word in an essay.] So I make a mistake now and then. I'm only human.

---Most of the "errors" mentioned above have been subsequently "corrected" in editing.---
---(But not the which/that thing. I have to draw the line somewhere.)---