Mary Norris began working at The New Yorker in 1978 and spent more than three decades as a copy editor, where she worked with celebrated writers Philip Roth, Pauline Kael, and George Saunders. She is the author of Between You & Me: Confessions of a Comma Queen. Among other things, her book demystifies one of the most puzzling marks a reader is likely to encounter: the diaeresis.

If you’re reading something and you encounter a diaeresis, chances are you’re reading The New Yorker.

There is one other way to keep the “cow” out of “co-workers”: where two vowels rub up against each other, a diaeresis may be used instead of a hyphen. Often mistakenly called an umlaut, a diaeresis (pronounced “die heiresses”; it’s from the Greek for “divide,” and is devilishly hard to spell) consists of two dots carefully centered over the second vowel in such words as “naïve” and “reëlection.” An umlaut is a German thing that alters the pronunciation of a vowel (Brünnhilde) and often changes the meaning of a word: schon (adv.), already; schön (adj.), beautiful. In German, if an umlaut appears in a combination of two vowels, it will go over the first vowel, and it indicates something important: a plural, say. A diaeresis always goes over the second vowel, and it means that the vowel is leading off a separate syllable.

Most of the English-speaking world finds the diaeresis inessential. The New Yorker may be the only publication in America that uses it regularly. It’s actually a lot of trouble, these days, to get the diaeresis to stick over the vowel. The autocorrect whisks it off, and you have to go back, highlight the letter, hold down the option key while pressing the u, and then retype the appropriate letter. The question is: Why bother? Especially since the diaeresis is the single thing that readers of the letter-writing variety complain about most.

Basically, we have three options for these kinds of words: “cooperate,” “co-operate,” and “coöperate.” Back when the magazine was just developing its style, someone decided that the first could be misread and the second was ridiculous, and so adopted the third as the most elegant solution with the broadest application. By the thirties, when Mr. Hyphen was considering these things, the diaeresis was already almost obsolete, and he was through with it. He was for letting people figure things out for themselves. The fact is that, absent the two dots, most people would not trip over the “coop” in “cooperate” or the “reel” in “reelect,” though they might pronounce the “zoo” in “zoological” (and we don’t use the diaeresis for that).

Not everyone at The New Yorker is devoted to the diaeresis. Some have wondered why it’s still hanging around. Style does change sometimes. For instance, back in the eighties, the editors decided to modernize by moving the semicolon outside of the closing quotation mark. A notice went up on the bulletin board that began, “Adjust your reflexes.”

Lu Burke used to pester the style editor, Hobie Weekes, who had been at the magazine since 1928, to get rid of the diaeresis. Like Mr. Hyphen, Lu was a modern independent-minded reader, and she didn’t need to have her vowels micromanaged. Once, in the elevator, Weekes seemed to be weakening. He told her he was on the verge of changing that style and would be sending out a memo soon. And then he died.

This was in 1978. No one has had the nerve to raise the subject since.

Excerpted from Between You & Me: Confessions of a Comma Queen by Mary Norris. Copyright © 2015 by Mary Norris. With permission of the publisher, W. W. Norton & Company, Inc. All rights reserved. To see more of our favorite books on language, click here.

You’ve probably heard about Grammarly – the Word-integrated tool that allows you to check for spelling and grammar mistakes. However, you might not be familiar with their blog yet. That’s where this article came from.

There are a few “rules” of grammar that aren’t actually rules or, at any rate, rules that people like grammarians and linguists can agree on. These scenarios show that the standards and norms around language can be inconsistent and often confusing.

One classic example of these non-rule rules is the common advice that infinitives shouldn’t be split—meaning no words should come between the to preceding an infinitive verb and the verb itself. In fact, it’s now widely acknowledged that there’s nothing grammatically incorrect about a split infinitive. Let’s not be afraid to boldly go where many have been told not to go before.

What is a split infinitive?

An infinitive is the root form of a verb, which is the way it appears without any of the changes that it can make to show properties (such as voice, mood, tense, person, and number). It’s also the form of a verb that can appear after the word to: to be, to have.

When we refer to an infinitive as being “split,” we mean that an adverb or adverb phrase is placed between the to and the principal verb in a sentence, as in these examples:

She seems to often be up and about early in the morning.

Wen decided to gradually decrease the amount of time they spent on their phone every day.

Is it OK to use split infinitives?

The short answer to the question of whether it’s OK to use split infinitives is yes. Most usage experts today agree that there is no grammatical objection to the split infinitive and that there are quite a few circumstances in which splitting an infinitive can be preferable to leaving it intact.

Reasons to split an infinitive

Meaning

It’s generally preferable to place an adverb as close as possible to the verb it is modifying, and sometimes misplacing it can really change the meaning of a sentence. Compare the following two examples—the first has the infinitive split by the adverb always, and the second is rewritten in a way that doesn’t split the infinitive:

I was taught to always clean up after myself.

I was taught always to clean up after myself.

In the second sentence, the infinitive to clean up is not split. However, the placement of always after the verb phrase was taught makes the meaning ambiguous—the sentence could be read as saying that the teaching always happened rather than that the lesson was to always clean up.

There are certain constructions whose meanings are absolutely reliant on an infinitive being split. Consider this sentence:

The company had intended to more than double its output that quarter.

It couldn’t be rewritten as “The company had intended more than to double its output” or as “The company had intended to double more than its output”—neither of those versions makes any sense.

Natural rhythm and emphasis

Sometimes, even when a sentence could be rewritten to avoid splitting an infinitive without its meaning being obscured, the result sounds awkward, unnatural, or like the emphasis is in the wrong place. In those cases, it generally makes sense to split the infinitive rather than sacrifice the gracefulness of your language. Here are some examples of sentences that would lose some naturalness or emphasis without their split infinitives. Try to reorganize them with the infinitive unsplit and see if you agree.

I want to really emphasize the importance of the workshop tomorrow.

Paz likes to gradually come to consciousness in the morning rather than being abruptly woken up.

We choose to not mow the lawn in order to attract pollinators.

When not to split an infinitive

Because so many readers, educators, and others still object to split infinitives and find them annoying, it may make sense to avoid them in cases where you don’t have to sacrifice any clarity or elegance to do so. Here are some examples of sentences that can be painlessly rewritten to avoid the split infinitive, with examples of how to do that:

Split: The women proceeded to briefly describe what they’d seen in the city.

Not split: The women proceeded to describe what they’d seen in the city.

Split: I’d love to completely go over the text with you tomorrow.

Not split: I’d love to go over the text with you completely tomorrow.

Just keep in mind that you don’t have to spoil a natural rhythm or muddy your meaning just to appease the anti-splitters.

Examples of split infinitives from pop culture and literature

These are the voyages of the Starship Enterprise. Its five-year mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before. —Star Trek

For me I’m sworn to never trust a man— / At least with letters. —Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Aurora Leigh

But still, the policy of the army at that time was not to send—was specifically to not send—women into combat roles —NPR

Nor can I blame thee, though it be my lot / To strongly, wrongly, vainly love thee still. —Lord Byron, “Love and Death”

I knocked gently and rang as quietly as possible, for I feared to disturb Lucy or her mother, and hoped to only bring a servant to the door. —Bram Stoker, Dracula

Split infinitive FAQs

What is an infinitive?

An infinitive is the most basic form of a verb, which is the way it appears without any of the changes that it can make to show properties. It’s also the form of a verb that can appear after the word to.

What is a split infinitive?

A split infinitive is an infinitive that has an adverb or adverb phrase appearing between the to and the principal verb.

Is the use of split infinitives grammatically incorrect?

Though many people have been taught that using a split infinitive is grammatically incorrect, that idea has little basis in historical usage guides, and most usage experts today agree that there is no grammatical objection to the practice. Often, splitting an infinitive is clearer or more graceful than not splitting it.

You can read this and other similar English usage posts at www.merriam-webster.com/grammar.

What to Know

The earliest sense of comprise, “to be made up of” (‘the cake comprises eggs, sugar, and flour’), is often regarded as the only correct use. The use meaning “compose, constitute” (‘the cake is comprised of eggs, sugar, and flour’) is well established, though you may be criticized for using it.

Beginning in the early 20th century, a number of usage guides decided that there was something wrong with the way that some writers used comprise. The sense meaning “to be made up of” was fine (“the compound comprises seven buildings”), but the one meaning “compose, constitute,” which is most familiar in the passive voice, was found objectionable (“the compound is comprised of seven buildings”). In the active voice, we clearly see that the meaning does in fact stand in awkward opposition to the “to be made up of” meaning (“seven buildings comprise the compound”). The Brothers Fowler made note of the construction comprised of in their book The King’s English. Although the mention is quite brief, they appear to have, somewhat half-heartedly, suggested using composed of or comprising rather than comprised of.

The “Rule” Around ‘Comprised Of’

This restriction on the use of comprise may be neatly summed up by quoting usage writer Roy Copperud, who in 1970 averred “The whole comprises the parts; thus is comprised of is wrong.” The combination of comprised with of is hardly new; although not the earliest sense of the word it has been in use for hundreds of years.

The third which is comprised of many and sundry (as suppose of many bodies comprehended vnder one name:) as the people, a congregation, an armie, a legion.
— S. R., The Choice of Change, 1585

Historical and Moderns Usage of ‘Comprised Of’

It should be noted that simply having been in use for hundreds of years does not necessarily make a construction correct. However, it should also be noted that a body of writers deciding that a well established usage is wrong does not necessarily make a construction incorrect. There is considerable evidence of comprised of in well-edited publications throughout the 20th century:

…it was universally believed that mankind was comprised of a single species.
— Ashley Montagu, Man’s Most Dangerous Myth, 1945

…a great many of the present-day centers are comprised of militant groups.
— Irving Louis Horowitz, Center Magazine, May 1969

The audience, comprised mainly of undergraduates in sneakers and denim….
— William Kucewicz, The Wall Street Journal, 19 Jan. 1981

And into the current century as well:

A nation comprised of 99% sea, the Maldives sees fishing not just an industry but as a way of life.
— Rosie Magudia, The Guardian, 30 Aug. 2013

Even if you despise comprised of and have made it your life’s work to expunge it from the writing of others, chances are very good that you never approached the level of dedication exhibited by the Wikipedia editor who, over a period of years, deleted tens of thousands of uses of comprised of from that website (in addition to writing a 5,000 word explanatory article).

It seems safe to say that few of us have this level of animus towards any particular use of a word. Many people see nothing wrong with comprised of, although they still might feel apprehensive about using it, given that there are others who so strongly object to its use. If you are one of these apprehensive writers of comprised of we can offer you the following words from our Dictionary of English Usage:

Our advice to you is to realize that the disputed sense is established and standard, but nevertheless liable to criticism. If such criticism concerns you, you can probably avoid comprise by using compose, constitute, or make up, whichever fits your sentence best.