I was reading the economist, this was a complaint letter written to the economist. I was infuriated and straight away complained; Here was my email:
I am a reader of the economist, I strongly disagree with a statement on page 20 of the March 26th – April 1st issue as a letter regarding the use of semi colons in modern day English, or rather the lack of use or incorrect use. The whole letter by JOHN O’CALLAGHAN in Singapore was total bull. I could write for an extremely long time on the disregard and underrating of the semi-colon; I would therefore like to be put in touch with JOHN O’CALLAGHAN to tell him how wrong he is and that he should not say something which has not had deep thought and chuck it in a prestigious public newspaper. But his is one point he got vitally wrong: ‘…all they do is show you have been to college…’ This is wrong, for one, I am 12 years old and know the proper usage of a semi-colon and I certainly have NOT been to college! In fact it is just due to a half decent teacher in primary education and the fact I not a half wit brainless turd like MR O’CALLAGHAN! Also, every f****** qwerty keyboard has the semi-colon below the colon, as it can be used more often than a colon. As well as the fact it is needed for the wink smiley face emojicon! There isn’t such thing as an ‘…overdose…’. I bet you he doesn’t even know the use himself and he is complaining he struggles to read the economist due to his own stupidity; If he wanted to know what it was for: ASK GOOGLE!!! The semi-colon is not a ‘…fault…’ It is a replacement of boring full stops to show the connection and relation between the two sentences (or clauses) of which it provides; It helps not hinders.
I am sorry about the rant but this is important. For more information on development and evolution of language through the ages please have a look at the great book ‘A Sence of Style’ I found it interesting; It changed my perception of language and the phrase “destroying the language “.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. I would deeply appreciate if I could be put through to JOHN O’CALLAGHAN in Singapore.
Please do tell me how you use semi-colons in the comments. Whose side are you on and what are you opinions on the matter.
And, as a favour, please LIKE and FOLLOW. Thanks a lot for Reading it means a lot to me guys/gals.
Only one in half the books I pick up I finish and only one in five I would say are actually good books. However, I do finish 100% of short stories. In one night I am half way through or a third and two or three nights later I have finished and I can move one. It is incredibly satisfying when one finishes a story. But with short stories satisfaction is more common. Also, there are barely any crappy short stories (except the ones for 6-year-olds given out for free on world book day). One of my favorites is Roald Dhal’s Tales of The Unexpected. I just have to mention Margret Attwood’s Stone Matrice, I am whipping through it, It is well written (tick), It has a good story (tick), and there’s no plagiarism and it is original and not predictable(tick). 3/3, Those are my basic boxes for an excellent book, which are harder to tick than it seems.
Still there are lots of great short stories, with little risk of getting a shit read, so sometimes it’s safe to go short. But the market for short stories is small so after a while one runs out of reads. Conclusively, I suggest that your next book should be a short story: here are six good ones which you MUST read:
Tales of The Unexpected – Roald Dhal
Stone Matrice – Margaret Attwood
The Snows of Kilimanjaro – Ernest Hemingway
I, Robot – Issac Asimov
The Secret Life of Walter Mitty – James Thurber
The Monkey’s Paw – W. W. Jacobs
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noun: dogma; plural noun: dogmas
a principle or set of principles laid down by an authority as incontrovertibly true.
“the dogmas of faith”
Dogma is in English is es essentially the laws that are there as a standard, but sent really written down, they are just there, and everyone respects them. But should we? If we break them we unlock new creative pathways and new inventive technics. However, does it damage the original pathways of creativity? There’s a point where we’ve got to meet in writing, the Goldilocks zone, where it’s not too hot with rules that there are no new writing phenomenon, but not too cold so that people go wild to the point they go …. In to the dangerous and damaging unknown.
A little rant is that I think publishers are too generous. Sometimes they need to say to some writers, “nice idea, it would make money, but you are a terrible writer.” Or “how long did you spend on this?! The sentences are badly formed and the vocabulary is that of a college student!” Or “You are a good writer but the idea is such a copy of Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings!” Basically, a book should only be published if the writer has spent time on every little sentence and thought about every moment in the tiniest detail. But also, it must be an original idea. I am so bored of picking up another Harry Potter. No imagination, No quality English, No book. That should be what they say but really what they say is, catchy title, people will buy it Harry Potter was good so will this.
This brings us back to the point of what is good English and what is adventuresome English. It’s where you put the line between Classic English and super mad crazy and new English. There’s a point where you can write new and wonderful but not madness. Lots of new young authors confuse this point and end up getting lost in just the story without thought for the style. One of the best well written I know of is: My Family and Other Animals. My Family and Other Animals is also on my top ten books of all time list.
In my hand I hold the access to all of the world’s information. Within seconds I can check, ask and research anything I desire at no one’s expense. So why would I spend half and hour at the library finding out information for a science project? The answer is I wouldn’t. But I said before ‘all the world’s information’, that’s wrong. In history there are archives where more information is kept. So for history I do use books (but archives, not libraries) and for science I use the World Wide Web. The decline of non-fiction books has declined for finding information, but when you simply want to learn about a subject, with no aim in mind but to come out with a greater knowledge of the field: that is where non-fiction will survive today. However, today the thirst for knowledge is declining, so remind people to never not to learn, we are becoming lazier creatures: learning is the biggest … Holy shit … My cat just died…
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘you are a writer, you understand the rules.’ The man in the velvety suit and cringing black hair, that looked wrong gelled to his pale face, nodded. ‘You are wrong!’ he cried.
Okay, so I’m kinda committing treachery by reviewing this book even though I haven’t finished it. But then again, this empowering non-fiction book teaches one that there are no rules to writing, who says I have to finish the book: Its total ‘dogma‘! This book teaches how to write ‘properly’, but also says go and f****ng write what ever the hell you want. I already feel I could become the next Shakespear, Roald Dhal, JK Rowling (although inside I know that’s bull). The point is, this book says that times change and with time so does the English language and so should you, or should you? It’s such a complex book which is very hard going and packs so much in my mind could explode at any time. Every line has had so much thought that it reminds you that there is still one rule for writing: take time. But just how do you spend your time, what do you look out for, well, A Sense Of Style will tell you just what.
This book is mind boggling and I had to look quite a lot of words up in a dictionary. If you want to add a little spice to your reading, next time you go to pick up a book, turn around and pick up this: It is the whole and complete guide to books and (of course) is very well written. Now, I don’t think I should give this a star rating because guides don’t need ratings but if I based it on quality it gets five stars. Also, simply because this underlines and obliques all other books this gets onto my top ten books of all time. (A list that is VERY VERY hard to make)
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In my opinion today is far under celebrated. This day should be at least as commended as Halloween if not more. Happy World Book Day! Today is a day we can celebrate the largest gathering of books where money, class and sex are no obstacle in the discovery of wonderful new reads. The largest form of entertainment is books, it is also the best. Today, like any other day, is one to try something new and take yourself into a different world. So: HAPPY WORLD BOOK DAY (spread the love)
Here is a very short story of mine (copyright, all rights reserved):
Without warning something shot into Jengo Zepharia’s life like an ice cold arrow piercing his fragile heart. Someone sat next to him, whispering his name, it tapped him on the shoulder, but he chose to ignore. Death moved away but did not go.
After a chilling sleepless night of endless weeping finally the morning came and he let sleep consume him so that his wounds might heal. But his insides burnt and his mind struggled to stay focussed on its primary function, living. He awoke, it felt like the world was the same, everywhere, every direction. But as he looked through his watered eyes at the pale white sky, crushed by a large sun that felt closer than ever, it cast no shadows.
He looked down at the sand; it rippled like tiny waves with the glare of the beating sun which echoed in his head like a drum. A shadow crossed his vision. Jengo lifted his weak body with all his only strength. His cracked dry lips opened and his croaky voice cried “Maman?!”. There was no one. As his parched eyes searched the baked landscape he was thrown backwards by the littered bodies being eaten by the sand . “Papa?” He struggled to utter the words as he stared blinded at the roasted flesh on withered skeletons. They seemed to stand and he clasped an invisible hand and stumbled towards his parents.
He was in pain. There were no tears or cries, his throat had died not long back and he had no water for tears. Looking down Jengo saw blood trickling down his knee on to the sand. It stained the sand red and the bumps looked like tiny islands in a sea of blood. He turned imploringly to his mother and father but they only stood, silently looking down at him. Jengo reached for them but felt nothing but air and when he looked up he saw only sand dunes stretching on to the ends of hell. He was alone.
His heart was dying. Inside his body was screaming. Was this hell? He felt dead. Sand was in his eyes and he was delirious. Every part of him had stopped functioning but he was living. How? He collapsed.
Then he saw it, the dark shadow, a black rhythmic slither of a desert snake. More deadly as the desert itself. It glowed with a golden halo and its eyes could only have been forged in hell itself. Jengo extends his hand, offering his last drop of life to the snake, longing for its touch. It moved over him as if he was already part of the desert. Rejected, Jengo is left alone, to continue alone. No choice but to try and survive.
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