Written in November, 1987, this apologia for WordWise appeared in the inaugural issue. It explains the basic concepts that launched this venture. Other articles from back-issues of WordWise are also available through this site. – Ed.

For months I have been observing and cataloguing phrases and expressions in the language that are logically flawed. I am not referring to outright errors of grammar (or syntax, as such). What fascinates me are problems inherent in the words. A thoughtful reader needs no expertise in grammar, syntax, etymology, or even spelling to spot these creatures. With a little thought, they identify themselves.

Let me illustrate. Careful writers use "different from" in preference to "different than"; they avoid splitting splitting infinitives. At issue here are rules of usage, but both "rules" in these examples are external. There is nothing inherent in the words "different than" or in a split infinitive to condemn it from a logical point of view. (I’m not advocating their use, however.) The rule against these constructions is imposed from outside—and not without good reason, to be sure.

In contrast, popular expressions like "the reason is because" and "the best (or most, or largest, or any other superlative) of any . . ." come up short in analysis on purely logical grounds. While there are some style books that condemn expressions like these, it is not necessary to turn to such a source to infer the flaw. These constructions and others like them differ from examples of broken "rules" of writing in that they themselves supply the proof of their faultiness. The errors are internal.

"The reason is because" is redundant: Both "reason" and "(be)cause" express causation. Other common examples of such latent redundancies are "both the same," "cheap prices," "hot temperatures." There are many more.

"The best of [superlative]," on the other hand, is self-contradictory: A superlative addresses a group of three or more, while "any" particularizes: It selects one, no matter which. The two words clash. Again, the logical mind notices this, and the aid of a formal condemnation from a book on "proper style" (whatever that is) is gratuitous.

Another category of verbal illogic is the use of unnecessary words. I do not refer to speech or writing that goes on at unnecessary length, that explains too much, or that for some other reason says more than needs to be said. Rather, I refer to the addition—typically—of a single word that is purely excess baggage but which is probably intended to give the impression of greater precision. Usually the opposite results.

My local weatherman, for example, speaks of "valley areas," "desert areas," "mountain areas," and "beach areas"; simply valleys, deserts, mountains, and beaches would do perfectly well. A bank newsletter speaks of a man’s "leadership abilities"; leadership itself is the question (leadership is an ability). Pilots speak of weather conditions, when what they are talking about is simply the weather. (The phrase I love best is "calm wind conditions," which means: no wind!)

These unnecessary words are quite common. Like some of the food we eat, their use provides a certain pleasure with no particular benefit. I call them "junk words." There is also a literal sense to that term. These words are junk, and they ought to be discarded as such. In fact, the test for a suspected junk word is that simple: Can it be omitted without loss? Junk words will receive further discussion in future issues of WordWise.

Please understand my intent: I am not the least inclined to preach rules and grammar. I want simply to explain, in an easy-going way, why a phrase or expression, even a single word, is logically invalid. The thrust of my comments is to provoke thought. As I said above, with a little thought these verbal weeds that sprout in the speech and writing of nearly all of us identify themselves. One need apply just a little analysis to what one hears and reads to spot them.

Look around you. Everywhere, people today are striving to improve their physical being. They jog, do aerobics, go to health clubs, lift weights, ride bicycles, walk, and all the rest. Physical self-improvement is in. In a big way.

I ask you then: What about mental self-improvement, by which I mean general toning of the mind, irrespective of facts learned or knowledge gained? Have you heard that discussed? Neither have I. But why should we who are concerned with physical fitness (or even if we’re not) not also put a little effort into mental fitness?

It is easy to exercise the mind. Accost the words you encounter. View them skeptically, until they prove themselves to your satisfaction.

Words are all around us, every day. We all read the newspaper, a magazine, the instructions on a label. (I found a wonderful example of verbal illogic on the wrapper of a frozen burrito.) Words are there; use them to advantage! Simply take a little time—and thought—to penetrate beneath the surface. Set aside your assumptions and inferences about what a writer intended. Study what the words actually say.

Words then become mental "fitness equipment." The WordWise reader does not need to ponder the intricacies of grammar and syntax. Nor need he (or she) master spelling or etymology. Rather, this person uses others’ words to exercise the brain—to flex and develop the muscle between the ears. Reading and listening to words, wherever you encounter them, can do more for you than merely supply information.

No special knowledge is required. Such ideas as I will impart by my own observations will help you begin to apply VerbaLogic, but they are not essential, once you get the idea. The point is simply to think about the words that cross your path. Do not take them for granted. Look at every verbal formulation with skepticism. Does it really say what the writer (or speaker) thought it did? Does it really say what you first assumed it did?

This active approach to words—these "mental aerobics"—can be done anywhere. The "equipment" is always available, and it costs nothing.

The principal mission of WordWise, then, is to explore the verbal missteps that we all frequently encounter. Our goal is not to assign blame or point the finger. It is to provoke thought, to encourage analysis.

Each issue of WordWise will contain a feature article on such a topic as discussed above. It is to be hoped that readers will offer their comments, too, so that following issues can further explore the ideas involved.

In addition, the newsletter will pose various other questions relating to words. For example, one recurring column will deal with words that don’t exist, but ought to. Another will take up points of grammar that commonly tie untutored tongues. Still another will treat of plays on words—vagaries of spelling or pronunciation and the tricks they can play, puns, and the like. Perhaps an occasional foray in to etymology will prove enjoyable—even helpful.

Then there are the contributions that, one hopes, you will supply. Everyone has a pet peeve about words and their use. Do you have something to share? Perhaps comments on a previous issue? A quibble with the Editor? Eventually a significant share of space in WordWise will be your forum.

Since this project is only nascent now, the directions that it can, should, and might take cannot be specified with absolute certainty. But always the focus will be on one dimension or another of words. The stress will be on analysis, rather than merely on trotting horrid examples and, in effect, saying, "Now isn’t that awful?"

Wisdom requires reflection. WordWise will, I hope, not only reflect the intricacies and dynamics of our beloved English language but also—and more importantly—cause you to reflect habitually on words you read and use.

WordWise has been out of print since the beginning of 1990. This web site picks up where the printed newsletter (a "serial tract for the verbally inclined") left off.

Concerning the idea of "mental fitness equipment," check the above link to a summary of a recent article (November, 2001) in the Wall Street Journal, in which the writer cites medical evidence that corroborates our fundamental assumption (which was only logical, after all). –Ed.