The most obvious alteration to make is actually just a colour change. Wessex is not a formal region of England today. The name comes from the Kingdom of Wessex – an Anglo-Saxon kingdom (the name at the time being Ƿestseaxna rice). The Anglo-Saxon kingdoms of Essex and Sussex have given their names to English counties, but not Wessex. It survives now as an informal region.
But a symbol of the Anglo-Saxons – and in particular of Wessex – is the dragon or wyvern – in particular the golden dragon or wyvern. There is a design for a flag of Wessex made in the 1970s. It features a golden wyvern on a field of red.
Now, any worthwhile fantasy author will tell you that, strictly speaking, a dragon has four legs and two wings, while a wyvern has two legs and two wings. Wyverns might, in one sense, be a bit more naturalistic, as in the real world creatures with wings tend to have lost two of their legs to get them. But I have always preferred dragons – proper, four-legged dragons. I think they just look better.
So a flag of Wessex (and I technically live in Wessex) featuring a wyvern seems a bit disappointing to me – I’d much rather a dragon. The existing flag design is also, in my opinion, not great. The lines of it are a bit all-over-the-place.
So I thought I’d just change the colours in the design I have to get a new design for a flag of Wessex.
A Flag of Wessex – (V2) – Gold on Red
I think that looks great. The gold is very nice. I made the eye white – that just didn’t look right as gold. The red here is hsl(0, 90%, 45%) – a strong, primary red. The gold is hsl(45, 100%, 60%).
I thought it would look good with a dark blue background too.
A Flag of Wessex – (V2) – Gold on Blue
And it does. I think that looks even better. This blue is hsl(215, 70%, 20%).
It occurred to me that it’s quite odd not to have the claws, spines, and teeth be white too. (On the Welsh flag they’re all red, like the rest of the dragon – it doesn’t look odd until you notice it.) The original file I had had done some strange things with the paths, so I had to do a bit of geometry before I could change the colour of the claws.
A Flag of Wessex – (V2) – Gold on Red with White Claws
And it just looks amazing in blue.
A Flag of Wessex – (V2) – Gold on Blue with White Claws
I also wanted to make some more changes to the base design of the dragon. There are lots that I could do, but I started with the simplest one, which is just to add more spines. In more naturalistic depictions, dragons often have spines going all the way along the tail.
A Flag of the English – (V3) – With more spines
And then of course why not do this design in the Wessex colours too?
A Flag of Wessex – (V3) – Gold on Red with White ClawsA Flag of Wessex – (V3) – Gold on Blue with White Claws
This final one I think is my favourite. The white of the claws, spines, and teeth adds interesting highlights to the design without really adding any more complexity. Having the white spines go all the way along the tail adds more balance to the right-hand side of the design. And the gold looks fantastic against the blue.
There are even more changes I want to make – particularly to the shape of the wing, and to the scales – but I will save those for another time.
I have always been tremendously jealous of the Welsh flag. It’s got a dragon on it – it looks fantastic.
The English flag, by comparison, is rather plain – a red cross on white. Plainness is generally quite a good thing in flag design – it means the flag is easily recognisable and easily reproducible. But still – who doesn’t want a dragon? Dragon flags look fantastic. The flag of Bhutan has a dragon on it, and it looks amazing. The flag of the Qing dynasty also had a dragon on it, and that looks even better – a truly outstanding flag design – much better than the current Chinese flag – they should consider going back to it.
Why can’t we have a dragon on our flag? Well the thing is … we could. The symbolism of the red dragon on the Welsh flag goes back to Arthurian legend. A red dragon and a white dragon are locked in combat, with the red dragon representing the native Britons (the Celts) – now the Welsh – and the white dragon representing the Anglo-Saxons – now the English. So a white dragon is a symbol of the English.
This is fairly well known – lots of people already know this, and lots of people have already had the idea of making a white dragon flag to represent the English. (I mean, you could argue the idea never went away from Anglo-Saxon times – the Kingdom of Wessex used a golden dragon as its symbol (still on the flag of Wessex today, though as a wyvern (the distinction being somewhat unimportant here)), and the flag of Somerset also features a dragon.) But the idea has not spread very far – partly I think just because of a lack of awareness of the symbol, but also because of a lack of good designs. A good design propagates on its own.
So for a while now I’ve thought it would be good to make some designs for an English White Dragon flag – an unofficial flag as an alternative to the St. George’s Cross.
The simplest thing to do is just to change the colours on the Welsh flag, as shown below. (I am most certainly not the first person to do this – you can see that others have already done it just with a quick internet search.)
This is the exact same design as the Welsh flag – it just uses the red of the dragon from the Welsh flag as the background, and then the dragon itself is pure white. The design is incredibly striking – I think actually even more so than the Welsh flag.
This design also looks fantastic with a black background.
As with my design for a flag of Wiltshire (featuring a white horse), I find myself torn between different styles of illustration. The dragon on the Welsh flag is obviously very stylised – it’s not just a dragon, it’s a heraldic dragon. I particularly like heraldry and I quite like the heraldic style of illustration, but I do think there are some things that are a bit odd about the design here.
I have never liked what I call the ‘demon’s tail’ style of tail that the design above has. Almost every cartoon drawing of a demon has a tail like that. Personally I think it would look better if it were more naturalistic. That goes for the dragon’s tongue too.
I have also never liked the ‘nose horn’ of the dragon. This seems like a rather odd place to have a horn (that is, a forward-pointing one). In more naturalistic depictions of dragons – which are rather common nowadays thanks to CGI – you never see this. (It’s a remarkable thing that, with decades of stories and movies about dragons, we now have a very strong collective understanding of what a dragon is supposed to look like.)
So I set about modifying the above design. The result is below.
As with my design for a white horse flag for Wiltshire, I found that there were so many things to agonise over while making this design.
I wanted to make some improvements to the design, but I also wanted to retain much of the style – the heraldic style – of the original design. Of course, here we’re not dealing with a purely mathematical design – we’re dealing with freeform paths that can be given any shape. Should this control point go here? Should I move it slightly? Is that a better curve? That looks good, but does it deviate from the style too much? I agonised for hours and hours over it. I am not really certain about most of it, but at some point you just have to decide that it’s done.
I have removed the ‘demon’s tail’. I have also changed the tongue. Now, I’ve given it a forked tongue – that’s sort of a bit of a problem because of course a forked tongue typically carries the symbolism of the snake and of deception. That’s not the intended meaning here, of course – the aim is just to be naturalistic.
I have removed the nose horn, and elongated the dragon’s face. I think this is a tremendous improvement – again, more naturalistic – but of course it does lose some of that heraldic style. I have changed the eye quite substantially – making it a bit meaner. The eye on the original design makes the dragon look a bit dopey. I have also adjusted its spines – and I think this is the only change that I’m completely sure of.
There are so many other things I could have changed (adding more spines along the tail, changing the wings to be a bit more anatomical, changing the ears to look a bit more reptilian, and so on), but of course that risks losing some of the style. As with my white horse flag for Wiltshire, I consider this to just be Version 1 – I may make other versions in future with more modifications. I would also like to make some versions that don’t use the heraldic design at all – and which use something a bit more ‘modern’, for lack of a better word.
So we English can have a dragon on our flag, and it looks rather good. As ever, I don’t suggest making this the official flag – it’s just nice to have as an unofficial one. I’ll be getting some of these made for myself.
A few months ago I discovered the Valknut symbol. It’s a very angular trefoil knot – essentially a very sharp version of the Celtic Triquetra. (Or alternatively, it’s three linked triangles.)
It’s a very aesthetically pleasing symbol – combining the Power of Three with the mesmerising effect of an unending loop and un-untiable knot. It has rotational symmetry and is chiral.
And it’s an Anglo-Saxon and Germanic symbol (and it certainly does look very Anglo-Saxon). It’s part of English heritage. It’s unfortunate, therefore, that we don’t really see the symbol in modern life. (It’s part of a broader problem of our disconnect from the Anglo-Saxons. I’ve mentioned before that next to nothing – and sometimes literally nothing – about the Anglo-Saxons is mentioned in British schools. Most English people, I think, are completely unaware of Old English as a language – which is absurd as it’s a very nice language. Given all of this, it’s not surprising that this symbol has been forgotten about in modern life.)
So I think we should bring it back. It is a very nice symbol of the English and of Englishness, and it forms a very nice counterpart to the Celtic Triquetra (which is very well known about), given that they are just curved and angular versions of each other. (The Valknut probably needs a more English name – ‘Valknut’ is rather obviously Norse. I mean, really, it could just be called an ‘English Triquetra’, as ‘triquetra’ means ‘three corners’ – it being curved is not specified in the name. (Perhaps it could even be called a ‘Sexaquetra’ – ‘six corners’ – depending on how you want to count them – but that name doesn’t have as good of a ring to it.))
There are different ways of designing the Valknut – differences in line width and line spacing, and so on. And of course the distinction between the trefoil knot and the three linked triangles. In this post I present some designs, but I have not been exhaustive in these designs – yet – I might add more later. The style that I find to be most aesthetically pleasing is what I call the ‘close trefoil knot’ style, where the turns of the knot appear to leave almost no gaps – you’ll see what I mean if you look at some other designs. I’ve made these in a 5:3 ratio – which is a standard flag ratio – but that doesn’t really matter as they’re all just geometric shapes in the middle of a rectangle.
A blue on black design looks very nice – as does blue on dark grey, shown below. The blue I’ve used here is the same blue as from the Union Jack.
A blue on dark grey version – the blue is the same blue as from the Union Jack.
Blue on white also looks very good – quite minimalist, but pleasingly so.
A blue on white version – again, the blue is the same blue as from the Union Jack.
Red on black looks a little harsh, and red on dark grey is nothing special, but red on white is very pleasing.
A red on white version – this is the same red as from the Flag of England – the St. George’s Cross.
This uses the same red as from the English flag, so it makes a nice companion to it.
As I say, it would be nice to see this symbol used more widely. I think it would look very nice on British bank notes and coins. Similarly it would look great on rings and pendants. Symbolically it ties together so many things – the Anglo-Saxons and their Germanic origins, the Celtic Triquetra and Celtic knotwork, even things like the Triskelion (with Greek and Roman significance) and the Flag of the Isle of Man – it even has a passing resemblance to the symbol for the Deathly Hallows from Harry Potter. It links together many different things from thousands of years of English and British history. It could even be said to represent the three nations of Great Britain – the English, the Welsh, and the Scottish – should we so choose.
So I will try to use it more. Even just as a stamp or a sticker it’s very nice – or a background pattern. As a symbol it is simple enough, meaningful enough, and pleasant enough to be used excessively and not become tired or cliché.
Almost every week nowadays, I marvel at the things not taught to me when I was in the education system.
It’s a common refrain – ‘Why aren’t they teaching this?’, ‘Why aren’t they teaching that?’ – but I mean it in an even deeper sense. It’s not just that there are certain things that are not taught – they’re not even mentioned. An example of this is Anglo-Saxon history. I was taught nothing about Anglo-Saxon history when I was in school. This is astonishing given that the Anglo-Saxons were the start of the English – all of the history of the British Isles before that is British history but not English history. But even more than that, in the entire five years I spent at secondary school, I don’t think the term ‘Anglo-Saxon’ was mentioned even once.
There are also many examples of things not being taught or even mentioned from my university education. I could write hundreds of blog posts (not an exaggeration) about how low quality my university education was – there’s no point trying to cover it all here. But in addition to many utterly bizarre choices in course structure, there were hundreds of important things that were never even mentioned. In physics we were not taught the conceptual framework around waves properly to understand radiation pressure or the derivation of the black-body spectrum curve; we were not taught Minkowski diagrams properly; we weren’t taught measurement and uncertainty properly. In mathematics we were not taught matrices properly, or the principles of limits. We didn’t even really do complex numbers properly, though we did do a lot with them. The way we were taught quantum mechanics was utterly abysmal. And we were taught absolutely nothing about the history of physics.
I could go on and on and on, but that’s not what this post is about. It is in the time since leaving the education system that I have learned about these things. Everything I know about Anglo-Saxon history – which, of course, went into the writing of On The Subject Of Trolls – I have learned myself.
If you have grown up in Britain around the same time as me (I am a millennial), you will have heard the word ‘chivalry’ thrown around from time to time. You of course know that it has something to do with mediæval knights – it was some sort of practice that they had or ideal that they strove towards. You will have heard the word ‘chivalry’ used to refer to certain kinds of behaviour in the modern age – usually things as drab as holding doors open for people. You will also have heard the word used by feminists. Over the last 30 years, they have typically used it in a derogatory sense, referring to actions or behaviours that they consider to be outdated and offensive to their belief system.
All of this – everything that has been said of ‘chivalry’ in popular culture in the last 30 years (at least) is wrong. Not only is it wrong, it is completely wrong. It doesn’t even get the basic ideas of what actual chivalry is right.
I have recently been reading a book on heraldry. This book makes reference to other works as it goes along, and at one point – quite early on – it describes a book called The Book of the Order of Chivalry. This book was written in the 1200s, and it describes exactly what chivalry was supposed to be, and what knights were supposed to do. I had no idea that there even was such a book. What’s more, The Book of the Order of Chivalry was apparently considered to be the standard text describing what chivalry was for a very long time. What an extraordinary thing – that there is a definitive text telling those who aspire to be knights what a knight was and what chivalry was!
When I saw this a few weeks ago, I was already complaining in my head of how this wasn’t ever mentioned to me while I was in the education system. I looked around online to see if I could read it – for old texts, very often you can read a scan of them somewhere online. I went onto Amazon to see if I could buy a modern copy of the book – and I could – there was a modern translation of the book available. (Not so modern as to be affected by the rot that is currently creeping through academia.) I bought it.
The Book of the Order of Chivalry is not a long book – in the translation that I have, it doesn’t even pass fifty pages. But when I was reading through it, it was nothing short of enlightening. And I don’t mean that in an exaggerative sense – reading it was as though the light of knowledge was shining into my mind.
Chivalry is an entire system for producing persons of good character – persons who are well trained in the various martial arts of a knight, and so are very physically capable, but who are also learned, and so very mentally capable. It is a system that, through the production of such persons, produces a good and orderly society. It also contains methods of self-regulation – necessary for when someone comes along who tries to subvert the system.
Although The Book of the Order of Chivalry was written in the 1200s and is specifically about knights, and those who wish to become them, many of the prescriptions it gives about how knights should be could apply to anyone, in any time period, who wants to be a good person or build a good society. That’s one of the things that was so fantastic about it – huge parts of it are completely relevant to life today. Some of it appears to be astonishingly prescient – there are problems that exist in the world today that this book has the solution to. And this is what makes it downright outrageous that this book has seemingly been hidden from us in the modern age – the solutions to many problems that exist today – sometimes very specific problems – have been known for centuries.
Take the following paragraph from the translation by Noel Fallows:
The king or prince who unmakes the Order of Chivalry itself not only unmakes himself as a knight, but also the knights who are subordinate to him who, because of the bad example set by their lord and so that they will be loved by him and follow his evil ways, do what does not pertain to Chivalry or its Order.
Ramon Llull, The Book of the Order of Chivalry
In other words, if any knight acts in a way that is not in accordance with true Chivalry, he not only unmakes himself as a knight, but also all of the knights he trains or is in command of.
This is a principle that is relevant not only to Chivalry, but to any organisational structure, in any time period.
Take another paragraph:
If the squire should be dubbed a knight because of fineness of features or a well-built, well-proportioned body, or because he has fair hair or carries a mirror in his purse […] you debase and diminish the Order of Chivalry.
Ramon Llull, The Book of the Order of Chivalry
What an amazing thing to read! Don’t just reward people with status and power because they are good-looking – it’s a principle that can apply to every society in every time period.
Take another one:
The prideful, ill-mannered squire who speaks and dresses crudely, has a cruel heart, is avaricious, mendacious, disloyal, slothful, irascible, lustful, drunken, gluttonous or perjurious, or who has other vices similar to these, is not suited to the Order of Chivalry.
Ramon Llull, The Book of the Order of Chivalry
To how many people does this apply today! Every week there seem to be more and more people who could be described in this way. And not only are they not suited to the Order of Chivalry, they are not suited to any position where they have any influence – particularly positions of cultural influence, which they seem to currently occupy.
Here’s another:
Do not seek nobility of courage in the mouth, for it does not always tell the truth, and do not seek it in resplendent vestments, for beneath many a resplendent cloak there is a base and weak heart filled with evil and deceit.
Ramon Llull, The Book of the Order of Chivalry
I would like to give more quotes from the book, but I fear I could very easily pass the threshold of fair use. This book is filled with good advice on how to be, how to act, how to live, how to learn, how to teach, how to train, who to trust, who to grant status, how society should be.
Chivalry – true Chivalry – is not just a few trite mannerisms – it is not just a set of pedantic rules for small actions. It is an entire way of life – and one designed to improve society. It is a tragedy that we have forgotten what it is.
It’s worth mentioning that Llull is adamant that you cannot be a knight unless you are a Christian – nothing truly chivalrous can follow without that. I am a staunch atheist. In the era of New Atheism, I was a more combative one (which was of course a big part of what New Atheism was), but nowadays I am not, and I find those who retain that combativeness towards Christianity to be rather cliché and tiresome now – it’s not needed anymore. So I can appreciate the value of the ideas in this book without being a Christian. At the same time, it’s interesting how Llull often writes about the importance of using reason and scientific knowledge (‘scientific’ perhaps not quite in the modern sense), and of avoiding superstition. Such ideas would have been very pleasing to the New Atheists of 2007-2012.
It is outrageous that modern popular culture – and modern feminism – lies to us about what true Chivalry is. It is outrageous that the modern education system does not tell us what it is. It is outrageous that the modern education system doesn’t even tell us about the existence of this book. And it is outrageous that wisdom that has been around for centuries is hidden from us – wisdom that we could use today.
Reading this book was enlightening – not because I didn’t know or believe many of the ideas that are in it – a lot of them are actually ones I already knew and agreed with – it was enlightening because I was realising just how long this knowledge has existed for. It was there. It was always there.
It was also remarkable just how much the ideas overlapped with ideas from another part of my life: Taekwondo. I have done Taekwondo for more than 20 years – it’s been a huge part of my life. Taekwondo has a moral dimension. What was amazing reading this book was how mediæval Chivalry (from Europe eight hundred years ago) and Taekwondo (which developed in Korea in the last century) have produced many of the same ideas. Two completely unconnected cultures produced the same ideas. Extraordinary.
True Chivalry is, in many ways, the antidote to the poison that is modernity. It is the balm that could heal many today. It is not something to be contemptuous towards – it is quite possibly the very thing that we, the English, need at this moment in time.
I have not shown you the very best part of the book – that should be saved for when you read it yourself. And I think you should read it yourself. There are very few books that I would say that everyone should read, but this is one of them. Every Englishman should read this book.
They’re making a Harry Potter television show – you might’ve heard. Specifically, it’s a reboot – they’re just going to redo the entire film series as a television series.
Most people, when this information and idea is thrust upon them, just respond ‘Why?’. What’s the point of making a television show of the series? The films were pretty much perfect. Sure, they had a few issues with them, but what film doesn’t? The issues with the series are quite minor, and overall the films are very good. They’re even better when you consider that most attempts at an eight-film series fail (most don’t even get to the third one without going horribly wrong), and the Harry Potter films are remarkably consistent in style.
So why? Why bother making a television series? Some have suggested that it will allow them to include elements from the books that weren’t included in the films. Films tend to be less than 2 ½ hours, and they often aim for 1 ½ hours, so there are just things you can’t include from a book as long as The Goblet of Fire. The total runtime of a television series is, of course, much longer – particularly if it’s one of those 24-episode series’ that the US likes to do.
But the problem is, the films are iconic. Even if you manage to include all of the elements of the book that were missed out from the films, you are never going to beat the music of the films. You are never going to beat the music of John Williams. You are never going to beat the aesthetic of the films. You are never going to beat the perfect casting – there just isn’t better casting than Richard Harris, Dame Maggie Smith, Robbie Coltrane, Richard Griffiths, Fiona Shaw, Jason Isaacs, Gary Oldman, Timothy Spall, Kenneth Branagh – it’s not just that Hollywood is unable to cast such talented actors anymore, such good actors don’t even really exist anymore – there isn’t a new generation of actors that have come along that can match the last one.
The films were also all made before Hollywood went insane. We’re in a post-Last-Jedi world, where every film and television show to come out of America seems to have been written and directed by demented sociology professors. ‘There is no good or evil; there is only power’ is a line spoken by Voldemort in the first film – how can Hollywood possibly make a television show with this guy as the primary villain when so many of them actually believe this idea to be true? Are we going to get told that Voldemort isn’t actually evil, he’s just misunderstood? Is he only evil because ‘society made him that way’? Is he going to be made ‘morally grey’? Hollywood cannot adapt a story it does not understand. Hollywood will be unable to match the charm of the films. Almost every line from the first two films is memorable – I predict that none from the television show will be.
So there is no point. There is no point to making this television show. It cannot possibly outmatch or even just match the films.
If this wasn’t enough to render the show a waste of time and money, the few details that have been revealed about the show so far have been an absolute car crash.
Among these is the casting of John Lithgow as Albus Dumbledore. Now don’t get me wrong – Lithgow is a brilliant actor. But he’s American. For the films, I recall that J. K. Rowling had insisted on only casting British actors for the British parts. At the time I instinctively understood the reason for this. American actors act with a different style to British actors. It is, much like the Americans themselves, more brash, more over-the-top, and overconfident. These are not qualities that British people themselves typically have, and so when Americans try to play British roles, they stand out like bird shit on a chip. Also, American actors are rarely able to do a British accent well.
Now, John Lithgow neither has this brashness to his acting style nor an inability to do a British accent – his rendition of Churchill in The Crown was fantastic. He may even do quite well as Dumbledore. But I think the principle of not having American actors playing British parts is still a good one to follow. Every American cast will have an obstacle to get past which is their lack of familiarity with the British way of being. They will stand out in a story that is quintessentially British.
By far the most tweet-worthy detail to have been released, however, is the casting of a person named Paapa Essiedu – a Ghanaian actor who grew up in London – in the role of Severus Snape, played iconically in the films by Alan Rickman.
Essiedu is not the same ethnicity as Severus Snape, and this is yet another example of ‘blackwashing’ from Hollywood – changing the ethnicity of characters from a European ethnicity to an African or Middle Eastern ethnicity.
Hollywood keeps doing this. And it’s infuriating because all of the Leftoids who scream bloody murder when ‘whitewashing’ occurs (even though that’s usually done just to put a big-money celebrity in the main role) are completely silent when it’s done the other way round – or even worse, they egg it on. It’s also infuriating because, as I’ve mentioned when Russell T. Davies did this in Doctor Who, it is always done for ideological reasons. Hollywood, like much of the political left today, has a deep hatred of Europeans – most of all the British, most of all the English. The reason why Hollywood does this is because they truly hate what they call ‘white’ people (a deeply flawed term) and want to see them erased from both history and art. Hollywood would call it ‘Anti-Racism’ – but it’s the deep irony of the ideology of ‘Anti-Racism’ that it is actually just racism with a different name.
Why would I watch a show about a classic British story when the makers of the show are indicating that they subscribe to an ideology that hates everything that is British?
So this show is dead on arrival – dead before arrival. There is simply no reason to watch it – it can do nothing but fail.
I’m not sure why J. K. Rowling keeps greenlighting these projects. I think she should be more concerned with the failed Fantastic Beasts series. That series was cut short at three films – it was supposed to be five. The three films we got weren’t very good. It just wasn’t a good story – nothing on par with the story of Harry Potter. In fact it didn’t even feel like they took place in the same universe. Rowling should have written that story as a book series first, and then allowed them to be adapted into films. And if she wants that story to exist as anything other than a failure, she should go back, write it as a book series, ignoring everything that was done in the films. That is probably more important and worthwhile than supervising another adaptation of the original books.
‘The comma always goes before the closing quote mark.’
I’ve heard this a number of times over the last 7 years or so – mostly, but certainly not exclusively, from Americans.
And I had heard it in life before that too. I can’t remember exactly when I first heard it – I think it was possibly in secondary school, from one of my secondary school English teachers. But I do remember that when I first heard it, I immediately thought ‘That’s silly.’.
Consider the following sentence.
‘I think I like pears more than I like apples.’
Now let’s imagine that this is a line said by someone – a character in a novel, perhaps. Now, the ‘he said’ / ‘she said’ could be put at the end.
‘”I think I like pears more than I like apples.”, she said.’
Or we could split the sentence and put the ‘he said’ / ‘she said’ in the middle.
‘”I think”, she said, “I like pears more than I like apples.”‘
This illustrates the problem. That first comma in the line above – those who say ‘The comma always goes before the closing quote mark.’ would have it go before the first closing double quote mark – immediately after the word ‘think’.
But I think this is ridiculous. That comma is not part of the original sentence – what this person is actually saying. It is not part of the ‘inner sentence’ – it is part of the ‘outer sentence’. For clarity, I’ve written the same text again below, but coloured the ‘inner sentence’ green and the ‘outer sentence’ blue.
‘”I think“, she said, “I like pears more than I like apples.“‘
The double quote marks are the demarcations between the inner and outer sentences. You can join together all of the separately-quoted parts of the inner sentence to get back the original thing being quoted.
If we were to follow the ‘The comma always goes before the closing quote mark.’ rule, however, we would have:
‘”I think,“ she said, “I like pears more than I like apples.“‘
This is clearly less elegant. The inner and outer sentence are now mixed together across the quote marks.
So I would say that the correct rule is: only that which is part of the quote goes within the quote marks.
Now sure, commas are for adding structure to written language – we do not speak them. (Well, they sort-of represent pauses in spoken language, but it’s not a hard-and-fast rule, and they’re better understood as making clauses easier to recognise in written text.) But that structure is still either of the inner sentence or the outer sentence, and putting a comma in the inner sentence when it’s actually part of the outer sentence can change the meaning.
I learned a while ago that my preferred style of using punctuation is called logical punctuation. And apparently the other style – the comma-before-the-quote-mark style – is known as typographer’s punctuation, or something like that. I’m not too sure about these names. ‘Logical punctuation’ is a bit grandiose, even if it is more logical, and I don’t know why typographers would be expected to be so slapdash in their approach to punctuation. But apparently these are terms that are used.
I’ve also seen it said that logical punctuation is the British style, and the other way is the American style. I’ve certainly heard Americans advocate for the comma-before-the-quote-marks style more often. I’ve heard Britons insist upon it too, though whether this is just because of the cultural backwash we get from America, I can’t say.
But regardless of what the best names for these styles are, and regardless of whether the Britons or the Americans use one style more, it is better to use logical punctuation.
The main argument I hear in favour of the American style is ‘It looks better.’. There’s just something about the lower punctuation mark followed by the higher one that looks better than the inverse. While aesthetics are very important in language, to some extent (only some) what you like is just what you get used to over time, and aesthetics should generally not be at the expense of function and semantics. (There are exceptions, of course, but generally.)
Some would say that my approach is perhaps the product of a mathematical mind. (I am a physicist by training.) You can certainly see the appeal of logical punctuation to a mathematical mind – logical punctuation perfectly mimics the way brackets work in mathematics. However, this is somewhere where the penetrating orderliness of mathematics should influence human language. Using logical punctuation allows you to avoid a great many problems that arise if you try to use the American style. The American style generally applies not just to commas, but to all punctuation. Consider the following sentence.
‘What did he say after “You’re not supposed to do that?”‘
The typographer’s style advocates for putting that question mark before the closing double quote mark, as I’ve written it above. But is the question mark part of the inner sentence or the outer sentence? Or both? You can’t tell – but it changes the meaning. If the question mark is part of the inner sentence, the person being quoted is asking a question. If it’s not part of the inner sentence, the person being quoted is making a statement.
This is clearly a problem, and if you try to follow the American style for an entire book, you will run into variations of this problem over and over again – with no way to be both consistent and always unambiguous. (You might think the problem won’t come up very often, but it does – it comes up A LOT.)
Logical punctuation solves this easily. If the inner sentence is a statement, you write:
‘What did he say after “You’re not supposed to do that.”?’
and if it’s a question, you write:
‘What did he say after “You’re not supposed to do that?”?’
Some people might find it visually clumsy to have all those punctuation marks bundled together like that. But again, the aesthetics you can adjust to if you just get used to it – but the semantic issues of the typographer’s style cannot be cleanly resolved.
I hope that logical punctuation becomes more popular. Britons seem to be split on it. But I think it’s an easy rule to remember: only that which is part of the quote goes in the quote marks.
I have noticed in the last two or three years that there are increasingly people who seem desperate to die on whatever (political, social, or moral) hill they see. Whatever issue or cause comes along, they immediately make it their entire personality – everything about them is devoted to it. They will spend hours and hours of their life fighting imagined mortal enemies online over their new cause. And then a few days or weeks later, another issue or cause – or even just vague concept – will come along, and that is now their new personality – the one thing in all of time that they must dedicate their life to.
It’s a phenomenon I see more on the political left than the political right.
I found I needed a word for such people: perhaps orothanatomaniac. Oro- is an English prefix of Greek origin meaning ‘mountain’ or ‘hill’. Orography or orology is the study of mountains and their formation. Orogenesis is the process of mountain formation. An oronym is the name of a mountain.
Thanato- is an English prefix of Greek origin meaning ‘death’. Thanatology is the study of death. And -mania is an English prefix of Greek origin meaning ‘madness’ or ‘obsession’. So orothanatomania is the obsession with dying on hills – in this case metaphorical ones. An orothanatomaniac is someone who exhibits this obsession.
