For a a couple of months, I have been surrounded by grammar books, many grammar books. I have grammar books for grown-ups, for kids, for writers, for editors, for persnickety grammarians, for people who don't understand grammar at all. My enormous L-shaped desk is mounded high with every kind of grammar reference imaginable.
The reason? I've been hired by a large company to write a series of teacher and student materials that address 10 areas of grammar. As I work hard to create lessons that teach in sensible, meaningful, and not mind-numbing ways, I find myself remembering my college days, when a surefire put-down of a teacher was to say, "Oh, she probably still uses Warriner's in her classroom." Warriner's referred to Warriner's English Grammar and Composition, first published in 1958 and used in schools all over the country for decades. My copy is green, like the copy I remember using in high school. But in college, professors scoffed at it. Future teachers scoffed at it. I scoffed at it. The little green book seemed a relic of the dark ages.
What has shocked me, however, is that the book I now turn to most often as a reference is Warriner's. It's not that I think schools should adopt Warriner's and cram it down students' throats. I do not, in fact, believe that grammar should be the focus of English or writing classes. However, I now have a grudging and growing respect for Warriner's.
Warriner's makes sense, at least in the areas I am addressing. Material is arranged sensibly. It is straightforward—well, at least as straightforward as grammar explanations can be. As I look at later grammar books, I am often surprised at how they've managed to make a tedious, confusing subject even more tedious and more confusing—and, at the same time, have completely lost sight of anything related to actual writing. I'm pretty good at grammar, but, geez, I can barely figure out what some of the definitions and rules are saying. I can't imagine a typical fourteen-year-old looking at these books and having any idea what in the world the writers are talking about. Oh, the writers are being correct, very correct, but they are not making much sense. Worse, they are ignoring a cardinal rule of writing: being aware of their audience.
Okay, so Warriner's doesn't exactly have fourteen-year-olds in mind, either. But as a reference, it works. I can verify or clarify just about anything I want to know about grammar, quickly. (One of the other books on my desk manages to confuse users with even the page numbers in the index—red for one part of the book, black for another. I've had to use this book with actual kids. Believe me, if I had a dollar for every time someone couldn't even find the correct page, I'd be a rich woman.)
As a reference for the nitty-gritty of practical grammar, Warriner's is the one I find myself turning to again and again. I scoff no more.
