On the steamier side of the grammar street

JUNE CASAGRANDE

When I was 18 years old and an idiot, I had a dream. That dream was

to not be an idiot. And ironically, it backfired, bringing my first

lesson in grammar humility.

Around this time, I found myself in the break room of the grocery

store where I worked correcting a co-worker’s use of the word

“dreamt.” It was, I said, “dreamed.” Many, many years later, I still

regret this. For one thing, I’m not sure why I picked the fight. The

co-worker was someone I had gone to school with, one of the “cool

guys” half my friends wanted to date. For that reason, he was

intimidating to me. He was also perfectly nice, very smart and dead

right in the way he used “dreamt.” But at that time, I just wanted to

be right.

It wasn’t until I began writing this column that I actually looked

it up. According to the Chicago Manual of Style, either word is just

fine. “Dreamt” is usually preferred in British English, but that’s

the only real difference. So E.J., if you can read this all the way

from Florida and if you remember the conversation and if you have any

even vague recollection of who I am: Sorry.

I’m glad I got that off my chest. After publicly humiliating two

readers for having a similar dream, I felt obligated to confess that

I, too, have been wrong when wanting to be right. But since I’ve

given up hope, I feel much better.

The place in my Chicago Style book in which I found the answer to

the dreamed/dreamt question, by the way, is a particularly fun and

useful chapter called “Word Usage.” It contains all kinds of cool

stuff and even a few examples of the very snootiness I’ve been

writing about for these last two weeks. For example:

sensual/sensuous. What is “sensual” involves indulgence of the senses

-- especially sexual gratification. What is “sensuous” usually

applies to aesthetic enjoyment; only hack writers imbue the word with

salacious connotations.

That seems like a rather power-drunk statement. I mean, these

people get to decide who qualifies as a “hack writer”? I’ve probably

made that mistake myself. (These words come up often in my steamier

grammar columns, of which there are many.) But now I’m not sure

whether I’ve ever made that mistake, so I don’t know if I’m a hack.

All these years I’ve been writing without knowing whether I’m a hack,

and now I must go on writing never knowing whether I have any

business doing so. Kind of takes the wind out of my hacky, hacky

sails.

But this section of the Chicago Style book also contains some

really neato stuff sans the slap in the face. For example: obtuse;

abstruse. “Obtuse” describes a person who can’t understand;

“abstruse” describes an idea that is hard to understand. A person who

is obtuse is dull and, by extension, dull-witted.

Hey, wait. Maybe they’re taking a jab at me again. I mean, if I’m

obtuse (and why wouldn’t I be if I’m already a hack?), I wouldn’t

understand that they’re insulting me, which would make their evil jab

that much more delicious.

So much for the dream I once dreamt.

* JUNE CASAGRANDE is a freelance writer. She can be reached at

JuneTCN@aol.com.