We who revel in the beauty of the English language tend also to bristle at its misuse. Thus, whenever in the presence of a kindred spirit, we sticklers will often swap tales of egregious abuses of the mother tongue. We do so not only to preen and display our advanced linguistic knowledge, but also in the likely vain hope that these mistakes, if regularly identified and sharply ridiculed, will not take hold and further bastardize our beloved, semi-orderly tongue. Our greatest fears and frustrations are realized whenever some ugly, unjustified contortion becomes popular and eventually moves toward acceptance through the infamy of "common usage."
We each have our favorite horror stories. We repeat them over and over to anyone who will listen, thinking that just maybe we can win enough converts to turn back the tide of misguided commonality and banish the mangled word or phrase to the ash heap of grammatical gaffery. It is often a lost cause.
For instance, I spent years railing against the too frequent misuse of the word "impact" as an active verb. "The proper word is 'affect'," I would insist, "The economy can 'affect' your salary, but it cannot 'impact' your salary unless you mean to say it can compress it like a car running into a cement wall" (definitely a possibility, but that is not what was usually meant). I accepted this as a lost cause, however, when national newscasters and writers for the New York Times began regularly using the verbified noun. Impact as a verb did, after all, have a certain oomph that was lacking in the milder, but more proper, affect. It was also a godsend to those who struggled with the difference between "affect" and "effect," which, I suspect, is the real reason so many journalists adopted impact as their own.
The latest cringe-inducing monstrosity, however, has no such beneficial attributes. It is so tiny in origin as to easily go unnoticed by all but the hyper-vigilant, and yet is so wrong that no self respecting stickler can let it pass without both indignant comment and awe-struck wonder at the stupidity of our countrymen. Yet when the error is identified, the linguistically unwashed and growing crowd whose laissez-faire attitude about language tilts them ever further toward illiteracy responds, "What’s the fuss? It is, after all, only one little letter out of place."
One little letter. Don’t they realize that the tiniest errors are often the most insidious? The substitution of one little letter can turn a perfectly comprehensible word, phrase or idea into absolute mush.
"But why does it matter?" they reply. "We know what they are trying to say. As long as we are communicating, why should it matter if one word is wrong?"
Because clarity counts. Every time the reader or listener has to wonder at confused meaning or expend extra mental effort translating error-ridden prose into comprehensible ideas, there is a greater likelihood of miscommunication, less focus on the meaning or power of the ideas expressed, and a reduced ability to critically evaluate truth, deception or deeper meaning in what is placed before us. Proper usage fosters understanding. Misuse muddies the waters.
So, what is this miniscule interloper which is inducing such a foaming rant? It is usually encountered when the sloppy author intends a comparison and wants to identify the greater of the objects or ideas being compared. But rather than using the proper phrase "more than," the miscreant will substitute an "e" for the "a," changing the phrase to "more then." For example, "This is more then that" or "More then anything else, I like crumpets" or "You’re more beautiful then moonlight." GAAH!
The first time I saw this misconstruction, I assumed it was a simple typographical error, easily missed by the bleary-eyed proofreader (if such a job still exists), or passed as legitimate by the indiscriminate "spell-check" of a modern day computerized proofer. But over time, this error has become widespread. In the last week alone, I have encountered it three different times from three different sources: my kid’s high school English teacher (I fear for the future), in a newspaper article by a supposedly professional journalist, and in a published manuscript from a reputable publisher.
I have also seen this sluggard's mistake using comparitive words other than "more." For instance, "clearer then glass," "stronger then steel," or some other tired cliche (another evidence of lazy writing). It appears also (but less frequently, for some odd reason) with the word "less": "I now sleep less then I used to."
These are no mere typos. And it is time to take a stand.
"Then" has nothing to do with comparisons, people. It has everything to do with either sequence ("First this, then that") or identifying a point in time that isn't the present ("Not now, but then"). Rarely does "then" ever follow the word "more" and when it does, it is used to describe the timing or order of events. For instance: "Concerning sex in marriage, at first you get more, then later, less" (Hopefully much less if you are guilty of swapping "then" for "than" – thus reducing the possibility of genetic transmission of such sloppy prose).
I can understand how the error has crept into the language, though understanding implies neither acceptance nor sympathy for this unpardonable blunder. When "more than" is spoken out loud and quickly, it often sounds like "more then." People who do not read regularly often don't concern themselves with the spelling of words, opting rather to place importance only upon how they sound. These phonetic spellers (a stickler’s term for mouth-breathers) are too often reinforced when no one corrects their errors (not even their English teachers, nowadays) and spell-check lets it ride. To be fair, a good spell check program will mark "more then" as grammatically incorrect, even though the spelling passes muster. But in our high-speed, text messaging world, who takes time to correct grammar anymore?
I do. I may have capitulated on impact, but I will never yield to this falacious phrase.
There are some who will dismiss this tirade as the rantings of an old curmudgeon who can't accept that English is an ever-evolving language where new words and phrases are adopted and rejected with each generation. But I am not that guy. I do not think we need an English equivalent of the Académie française which the French fund in a vain attempt to preserve the purity of their tongue. I firmly contend that English is stronger, more expressive, and engenders greater creative thought because of its evolving nature.
But just as in evolution, weaklings must die. We must firmly crush that which diminishes rather than adds to the power of expression. And if we let this one little letter between then and than go unchallenged, how will we then be able to clearly express the following statement?:
"I love you now more than then."
Think about it. Then then? Pass the bazooka, please.
To summarize: if you wish to compare, then remember to first write "more" then "than."
Are we clearer than mud? More than ever? Then my work here is more than done.
