I am the type of person who is always looking for a better way to do things, and is not afraid to shake up a deeply-rooted system if I sense that some form of improvement is possible. Yet as I prepare for the conclusion of my internship here (alas, just a few short months away), and reflect upon my time at McCarter Theatre, I am pleased to report that, given the opportunity, there is very little I would have any desire to change about the ways things work within this institution. Morale, artistic integrity, attention to detail, organization, and communication all proceed in quite an exemplary fashion. For the most part, I have been more than content to simply settle into the well-oiled routine and do my part to contribute to the smooth and rewarding process of making great theater.

There is, however, one area of exception to my overall satisfaction, one small yet pervasive (and, I feel, pernicious) McCarter policy of which I have long resolved: “If I can leave one lasting legacy as the Literary Intern of 2007-2008, it will be to fundamentally alter this particular principle once and for all.” And I write now to report that just last week, I was finally able to achieve my goal! I have been further granted license to post a blog entry recounting my marvelous and triumphant success, and you can bet I will take full advantage of the opportunity. I hope you enjoy this thrilling saga of literary heroism, which contains all the essential elements of epic drama—a noble quest, perilous obstacles, dastardly foes, undaunted courage, and relentless persistence in the face of adversity. So hold onto your desk chair, ’cause here we go.

To set the stage, I will explain that one of my many miscellaneous tasks as McCarter’s literary intern is to participate in the proofing process for all the literary copy that the theater produces. This includes the dramaturgy pages in the programs that get handed out before performances, as well as the online resource guides we compile in conjunction with the Education department. McCarter’s commitment to quality and accuracy extends to the tiniest nuances of spelling and punctuation, and so all material that McCarter creates for public perusal undergoes a stringent proofing process, passing through numerous people from assorted departments, each checking for different potential mistakes—the goal being that by the time anything goes to print or gets published online, it is completely and totally error-free. [Ed. Note: The blog only gets proofed by me, so there are always lots of errors. - AI]

Now, the trick about accuracy when it comes to grammar (which is one of the domains that the Literary Department pays special attention to as we proof) is that on certain grammatical points there is some ambiguity about what exactly the proper construction is. For instance, when do you hyphenate words rather than keeping them separate, or joining them to make a single, hyphenless word? When do you spell out a number rather than using numerals? When do you use italics and when do you underline? Do you, or do you not, put a comma before the “and” in a series of three or more items (e.g. “purple, pink, and green”)?

For just such ambiguous cases, McCarter has established what is called a “house style.” This is a sometimes arbitrary but consistent resolution to always, for instance, spell the word theater with an “-er” rather than an “-re,” (unless printing the name of a theater, such as McCarter Theatre, whose title is officially spelled with an “-re”). A house style is a useful way to keep things easy to read and looking professional, and if you look carefully at McCarter publications, you will note that we do, in fact, adhere to the “‘e’ before ‘r’ except in official titles” rule all across the board.

Enter the McCarter policy against which I have long harbored my rebellious designs. McCarter’s official house style with respect to the afore-mentioned “serial comma” before the “and” in a list of three or more items (this is also referred to as the “Harvard” or “Oxford” comma) is to omit the comma unless the sentence’s clarity specifically suffers from its absence. Now, it is in fact necessary to have a policy on this often ambiguous and thus particularly controversial grammatical question. However, the undeniable truth of the matter is that the absence of the serial comma frequently compromises the clarity of the sentence. Some examples:

“My favorite types of sandwich are tuna fish, egg salad, ham and cheese and peanut butter.”

(Does this person like ham and cheese sandwiches, or does s/he have a somewhat less orthodox preference for the combination of cheese and peanut butter? The serial comma would tell us the answer, if only this sentence had employed it!)

“Special thanks to my parents, Mother Teresa and the Pope.”

(Some highly scandalous reproduction is here implied by the serial comma’s conspicuous absence.)

In addition to these admittedly somewhat silly examples, there are many slightly more ambiguous cases that really do come up in everyday McCarter writing. Take, for instance, the following sentence from the resource guide for A Seagull in the Hamptons: “Students’ diary entries may be read aloud for the class’s pleasure and discussed for the merits of their content, attention to dramatic and character detail and the imagination and originality of their authors.” The presence of an additional “and” within the second and third terms of the series (”dramatic and character detail,” “imagination and originality”) complicates the sentence to the point that, although a careful re-reading will clarify meaning, the flow of one’s reading is disrupted by the serial comma’s absence.

Now, it just so happens that our Producing Associate Adam Immerwahr harbors a fervent vendetta against the “Harvard comma,” as he likes to call it. He objects quite strongly to it for what he claims are aesthetic reasons—apparently, he finds this poor defenseless little mark of punctuation “ugly,” and seizes every opportunity to eliminate it. He thus takes great pleasure in McCarter’s house style with respect to the comma, and after a program note or resource guide has circulated past his desk, you will see vigorous excision marks condemning any serial commas that had been inadvertently included.

As you may have garnered from my discussion thus far, I personally am a fierce proponent of the serial comma, for the many indisputable reasons illustrated above. In deference to the house style, I have done my best to avoid using it in the instances when it is not strictly necessary (although inevitably force of habit allows a few to slip through, which Adam eagerly obliterates). But every once in a while there comes a sentence, such as the one from the A Seagull in the Hamptons resource guide listed above, which requires the invocation of the “except when necessary for the sake of clarity” clause. In these moments, Adam and I must square off and do grammatical battle, as he attempts to defend the sentence against the comma’s “unaesthetically pleasing” inclusion, and I point out the many benefits its inclusion would impart.

I usually win. [Ed. Note: We like to humor her… -AI]

I also usually end each debate with a plea for an overall change in the policy, pointing out how many hours we could save in punctuation-driven bickering if only our house style were altered to embrace the serial comma. Adam insists that he does not have the power to change the policy (thank goodness, or it would never be changed!), but then refuses to tell me who actually does make the official decision with respect to such questions. So finally, last week, after months of my persistent pestering and wearing down his defenses, Adam cracked. He admitted that Erin Breznitsky, our Copy Editor and Associate Publicist, has final say in matters of McCarter’s house style. A victorious glint shone in my eyes, and Adam immediately realized his mistake. As I dashed out of his office and into the Marketing department to plead my case, he picked up his phone and called Erin in a desperate attempt to preemptively undermine me. “Don’t listen to anything Elizabeth is about to say to you,” he urged a perplexed Erin the moment she answered.

Meanwhile, I had entered the office. She hung up her phone, and I clearly and carefully explained the many reasons to reverse McCarter’s anti-serial comma policy. Adam dashed in to cast aspersions against my arguments in person, but when we had both finished speaking, Erin, who is an exceedingly reasonable and intelligent woman, replied that she had been thinking about this question for a while now, and agreed that life would be simpler and more enjoyable if the serial comma were a regular part of our grammatical lives. In the interest of making a smooth transition, she declared (with all the regal authority of a wise and benevolent monarch) that we would continue to omit the serial comma unless absolutely necessary in all publications for the remainder of the season, but that next season, and HENCEFORTH INTO ETERNITY, the serial comma would be consistently reinstated to its rightful position of honor.

That may be one small mark of punctuation, but it’s one large victory for this grammar-fanatical literary intern. I may be soon to depart, but my legacy at McCarter shall live on forever any time three or more items are joined in once-more-blissful clarity.

Posted by Elizabeth Edwards, Literary Intern at McCarter Theatre

This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 30th, 2008 at 8:30 am and is filed under Get Connected. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.