An Irishman's Diary

CONFUSED READER Bernard McCartan has written to query a phrase that appeared elsewhere in this newspaper on Thursday. It was in a report about a deceased doctor who left her home and surgery to the Irish Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.

Explaining which generous act, the story noted that she had been a “huge dog lover”.

As Bernard says, this could be interpreted in several ways.

It could mean that the woman was huge and loved dogs. It could also mean that she was of unspecified size and loved dogs, but only very big dogs, eg wolfhounds or great Danes. Or it could mean – as I think we know it did – that the extra-large thing referred to was her love: from which dogs of all size would now benefit.

Was this a case of “sloppy subediting”, asks Bernard? Well, no. In defence of subeditors, some of whom are my friends, I should point out that the phrase occurred in direct speech (from an ISPCA spokesman). And direct speech is, or should be, sacrosanct in a newspaper. Those quotation marks around it are like the letters “CD” at either end of a foreign diplomat’s car. Any crimes that take place between them are beyond the reach of the law, unless a mutually agreed arrangement is reached.

Personally, I blame English for its recklessness in always placing the adjective up front, unlike other, more sensible languages. Consider those subeditor friends I mentioned a moment ago. I might even call one or two of them “old friends”, by which I would mean they were friends of long-standing. But if these were in any way sensitive – and in fact subs can be notoriously touchy – the phrase might be taken as a gratuitous reference to their advanced age.

Not in Spanish, however. In Spanish, if you mean “a long-time friend”, you say “un viejo amigo”. Whereas if the friend is 105 and you want to pay tribute to his longevity, you say “un amigo viejo”. Precision is thereby achieved, and potential for confusion minimised.

Yes, we know from the context what the phrase “huge dog lover” means. But as a rule, it’s best not to allow anything to get between the adjective and the word it describes; especially not a dog or other animal whose behaviour may be unpredictable.

To do so can be downright dangerous, sometimes. I knew a man once, for example, who was a big cat lover. Then, inevitably, he got too too close to one of them and it ate him. A very sad case.

SWITCHING FROMpet loves to pet hates, at least for a moment, another concerned reader – John Geary from Toronto – wrote recently to highlight the widespread misuse of the verb "lay". This is not an Irish Timeshabit, he says gallantly. It's an "American demotic [. . .] fast gaining acceptance through usage by people who should know better". But in any case, it sets his teeth on edge.

I know what he means. The mistake, typically, is to use “lay” where the word required is “lie”. Lay is a transitive verb, meaning it takes an object. A hen lays an egg. Queen Elizabeth lays wreaths. Neither of them lays down, no matter how tired they are. What they might do then is “lie” (although to be honest, I’ve never seen a hen lie, even when exhausted), which is an intransitive verb and does not take an object.

Yet cases of intransitive laying are indeed rife, as John says. And again, part of the blame lies with (the queen’s) English. What, after all, is the past participle of “lie”? Why, “lay”, of course. And if it may be said of a man may that he lay down yesterday and the day before, it seems unreasonable to forbid him from laying down again today.

The other thing I blame is Bob Dylan, who had a big hit once with a song called Lay Lady Lay. In possibly the worst chat-up line in the history of popular music, he further urged his unnamed lover to "lay across my big brass bed". And what she thought of this bizarre suggestion is not known. But it helped popularise the verb's misuse.

Of course you never quite know with Dylan, who made a point of not explaining his songs and whose life and lyrics are still being analysed. We may yet learn that he was not singing to a woman at all. That circa 1969, he was a big poultry lover and brought a pet goose, nicknamed “Lady”, with him on tour. If so, Dylanologists will probably write a book about it eventually.

In the meantime, I did a quick check in The Irish Timesarchive to see if we've been guilty of any intransitive laying lately. And sure enough, as recently as Thursday, there was an example on the Sports pages, in a report about the Leicester and England rugby player, Toby Flood.

Again, happily, the subeditors are off the hook, because it was direct speech. Indeed, in fairness to Flood, he was using the verb in the negative. Still smarting from defeat to Ireland and about to face some of the same opposition in Leinster jerseys, he commented: “No, there’s not been any issue of me laying awake at night.” Which, considering all the possible meanings, is probably just as well.