Go ahead, it’s OK to boldly split that infinitive

Any grammar treatise about the rights and wrongs of splitting an infinitive arrives at some point at the introduction to the legendary TV series Star Trek.

Since such a destination is inevitable, let’s start our own grammatical journey there.

Star Trek – the original, not the myriad derivatives that followed it – ran on NBC from 1966 to 1969 and told of the adventures of the U.S.S. Enterprise, a “starship” in service to an Earth-centered federation of planets dedicated to peaceful space exploration and doing good.

The beginning of every episode began with a voice-over by actor William Shatner, who portrayed the captain of the Enterprise, the brave and dashing James T. Kirk. “Space, the final frontier,” he intoned with the gravity of Saturn. “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.”

Deep thicket

As a full-fledged science fiction geek, that mission statement never failed to send a shiver of delight up my spine as I sat in rapt anticipation of a primetime network TV show that didn’t treat its subject matter as campy fluff suitable for the Saturday movie matinee and nothing more.

But it never occurred to me that the inspiring boilerplate that framed every Star Trek episode had wandered unwittingly into a deep thicket of grammar controversy.

Purists – and by this I mean the brainwashed minions of long-dead arbiters of grammar righteousness – insist that it’s incorrect to split an infinitive. That is, to place an adverbial modifier between to and the infinitive or base form of a verb.

They would argue, damn them, that Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry should be excoriated for inserting a reckless “boldly” in the middle of “to go.”

To their delicate ears, the phrase would sound oh-so-much-better as “boldly to go” or “to go boldly where no man has gone before.”

I stand with my grammar hero, Random House copy chief Benjamin Dreyer. He says, “If either of those sounds better to you, be my guest. To me they sound as if they were translated from the Vulcan.”

Another nonrule

The edict against split infinitives stands as one of Dreyer’s Top 3 Nonrules of Grammar. (FYI, the others are never begin a sentence with “and” or “but” and never end a sentence with a preposition [see previous Grammar Goat entry].)

Martha Kolln and Robert Funk, authors of the definitive Understanding English Grammar, also don’t equivocate.

“Although the adverbial between to and the verb may not be the most effective placement in some cases, it is not a grammatical error,” they write. “And, in the case of single-word adverbials, it is a rather common structure.”

The example they use to illustrate their latter point? You guessed it: “To boldly go where no man has gone before.”

Here are a couple of others:

When I go to a restaurant, I like to carefully peruse the menu to see if I can afford to eat there.

In order to adequately prepare for life, one must at some point confront the possibility of death.

There are other ways to compose either of the sentences above, of course. But why should you? Is “I like to peruse carefully the menu…” any more cogent or graceful? Does it deliver the desired message any more effectively? I’d argue no to both questions. The fact of the matter is that the unsplit example is a bit clunky so best to stick to the original.

Ditto for the “to prepare adequately for life,” which avoids the split but subtly changes the meaning by placing more emphasis on the life rather than the preparation.

A catchy name

Unlike some of the curious grammar “rules” we have explored on Grammar Goat, splitting an infinitive only became a contested subject rather recently.

“The term first is attested in 1897,” says Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary of English Usage, “when the construction had already been under discussion for about half a century.”

Merriam-Webster suggests, only half in jest, that the dispute over split infinitives has endured because of the catchy name. It allows American writer Ambrose Bierce to make its point.

“Condemnation of the split infinitive is now pretty general, but it is only recently that any one seems to have thought of it,” he is quoted as saying in 1909. “Our forefathers and we elder writers of this generation used it freely and without shame – perhaps because it had not a name, and our crime could not be pointed out without too much explanation.”

H.W. Fowler, as rock-ribbed a conservative grammarian as you’ll find this side of the Harvard English Department, divided the English-speaking world into five groups: those who neither know nor care what a split infinitive is; those who do not know but care very much; those who know and condemn; those who know and approve; and those who know and can distinguish when to split or not to split.

“Those who neither know nor care are the vast majority, and are a happy folk, to be envied by most of the minority classes,” he said in his landmark Dictionary of Modern English Usage.

Pedantic bogey

The Harper Dictionary of Contemporary Usage calls the controversy over split infinitives “another pedantic bogey, carried over from the Latinate prescriptions of the 19^th century.”

There’s no such thing as a split infinitive in Latin simply because all Latin infinitives are single words. In Latin, “to hold” is written as “tenere.” So it’s impossible to state in Latin, “to fully hold the water.”

“Therefore, the pedants reasoned that both elements of an English infinitive should be considered as fused into one – unsplittable and sacrosanct,” Harper says. “Only that’s not the way English works.”

Theodore Bernstein, author of The Careful Writer, approaches split infinitives cautiously – as he does all things grammatical.

“There is nothing wrong with splitting an infinitive except that 18^th- and 19^th-century grammarians, for one reason or another, frowned on it,” says Bernstein, a longtime editor of The New York Times. “And most grammar teachers have been frowning ever since.”

As a result, he cautions writers not to blithely split infinitives with nary a care and to pay heed to the influence of those moldering grammarians.

 “For better or worse, their taboo against the split infinitive is a linguistic fact of life,” Bernstein said, “which a writer ignores at his own risk.”

Slavish devotion

We’ve traveled this road before on Grammar Goat. A slavish devotion to a long-dead language – the accursed Latin – has created a grammar rule where none should exist. And because of a widespread acceptance of the nonrule – implanted and nurtured by generations of well-meaning but hidebound English teachers – modern writers are stuck with the damned thing, lest we be considered uneducated boobs by many of our readers.

And yet, even the staunchest opponent of split infinitives acknowledges that there are instances when doing the dirty deed is the right and proper thing to do.

n  When avoiding the split infinitive introduces uncertainty and imprecision to the sentence.

I believe any person who lives a good life is required sincerely to consider the consequences of global warming.

Does sincerely modify “required” or “consider”? Hard to tell. And yes, it’s a minor point, but the world turns on minor points, doesn’t it? All confusion, minor or otherwise, is removed by simply writing “is required to sincerely consider.”

n  When you can’t avoid it without injuring yourself (or your writing).

What’s wrong with the construction of either of the following sentences? Nothing.

When Trump opens his mouth, I refuse to so much as listen to a word he says.

I have decided to all but give up my plans to move to Oregon in retirement.

n  When avoiding it interrupts the flow and rhythm of the sentence.

The Republicans in Congress didn’t expect the deficit almost to double because of their tax break for the rich, but they should have.

Ugh. To allow such a herky-jerky of a sentence to stand just to avoid a split infinitive is writing malpractice. Don’t do it.

The President of the University proceeded to praise warmly the accomplishments of his research scientists.

Its reads awkwardly. If you say it out loud, its sounds awkward. Do the write thing: “…proceeded to warmly praise…” You’ll be glad you did.

Bryan Garner says in Garner’s Modern American Usage that “knowing when to split an infinitive requires a good ear and a keen eye.” He's right, of course. Good writers will always choose the needs of the sentence over the dictates of 19^th century grammarians. They know when to hold ’em, when to fold ’em and when to walk away.

 To be fair, however, devotees of the split infinitive also understand that there are instances when it should be avoided like a coiled rattlesnake on your front porch.

Long slog

Take the following sentence, for instance, in which the adverbial element inserted after to forces the reader into a slog to the infinitive long enough to make them yearn for the final period.

In his fiery speech, the candidate sought to forcefully, fully, firmly and systematically expose his opponent as a neo-fascist.

This is a case where avoiding the split infinitive results in a stronger sentence. In his fiery speech, the candidate sought to expose his opponent as a neo-fascist – forcefully, fully, firmly and systematically. This approach highlights the deliberate alliteration and puts full focus on the totality of the takedown.

Interesting, many armchair grammarians who staunchly rail against split infinitives are much less adamant about a related grammatical issue – splitting verb phrases.

Some writers, myself included, believe that keeping the verb phrase intact – and placing any adverbial modifier either before or after it – makes for a stronger sentence. But not always. Take this example:

The dancer was carefully instructed not to land too hard on her injured ankle.

In this case, the split verb phrase reads naturally, its meaning clear and direct. In fact, keeping the verb phrase intact makes for a stilted construction.

The dancer was instructed carefully not to land too hard on her injured ankle.

It doesn’t work any better by placing carefully before the verb phrase because it leads the reader astray by linking the dancer too closely with the care in which they were instructed.

To split or not to split, that is the question. And the answer? It depends. (Alas, the Grammar Goat recognizes no hard and fast rules! Well, almost none.)

The last word goes to Raymond Chandler, mystery writer extraordinaire, as quoted by Dreyer in his entertaining and instructional Dreyer’s English.

Chandler, who could string words together as well as any novelist you’d care to name, took issue with a copyediting change in an article he wrote for The Atlantic Monthly. Imagine Humphrey Bogart as Phillip Marlowe reciting the response the author fired off to the editor.

“By the way, would you convey my compliments to the purist who reads your proofs and tell him or her that I write in a sort of broken-down patois which is something like the way a Swiss waiter talks, and that when I split an infinitive, God damn it, I split it so it will stay split.”