There Oughta Be A Sin Tax on This Syntax
Sept. 30, 2025
Being a word nerd (like me) is often more curse than blessing.
In my head, I’m forever rewriting others’ prose, things I read in public—signs, headlines, sentences, writing on the back of trucks. Just to, you know, improve them. For, you know, the greater good.
Except that it’s often not for the greater good. In fact, the only person this practice usually affects is me—and not necessarily in a good way. If truth be told, it causes me stress. Still, I can’t help myself.
Case in point: Marsha Lederman’s article on Sarah McLachlan in the September 20, 2025 issue of The Globe and Mail.
Lederman is an excellent writer—she is a 2025 finalist for a Jack Webster Award for “Commentator of the Year.” No surprise there—her take on controversial issues is always genuine, insightful and thoughtful.
But, boy, did that September 20 article ever contain a few clunkers.
By clunkers, I mean sentences that were arranged awkwardly. Sentences that contain what linguist and psychologist Steven Pinker calls “garden paths.” Garden paths, Pinker explains in The Sense of Style, “can turn the experience of reading from an effortless glide through a sentence to a tedious two-step of little backtracks.”
How do we create that “effortless glide through a sentence”? In good part, by understanding and paying attention to syntax.
According to Merriam-Webster, syntax is “the way in which linguistic elements (such as words) are put together to form constituents (such as phrases or clauses).”
Syntax is basically about the arrangement of words: what word comes before and after another word. When done properly, you get a well-formed sentence. It sounds right, and its meaning is clear to all.
As Pinker says:
“…. appreciating the engineering design behind a sentence – a linear ordering of phrases which conveys a gnarly network of ideas – is the key to understanding what you are trying to accomplish when you compose a sentence. And that, in turn, can help you understand the menu of choices you face and the things that are most likely to go wrong.”
So, where did Marsha Lederman go wrong? Here are five examples.
Clunker No. 1.
"Next month, she resumes the anniversary tour for the album that turned the Canadian singer-songwriter into a superstar more than 30 years ago, Fumbling Towards Ecstasy."
As I see it, the problem with this sentence is that the descriptive lead in to the name of the album is too long. By the time we get to the actual album name, it feels tacked on, like an afterthought or even an error.
The fix is simple: Put the name of the album before the description.
Rewrite: Next month, she resumes the anniversary tour for Fumbling Towards Ecstasy, the album that turned the Canadian singer-songwriter into a superstar more than 30 years ago.
Clunker No. 2.
"Pankiw interviewed McLachlan three times for the film, primarily in two sessions a few months apart in 2023."
This sentence has too many numbers. Keeping it all straight is difficult. According to Pinker, this kind of thing happens when “a writer shovels phrase after phrase onto the page in the order in which each one occurs to him.” [Or, in this case, her].
It would help to put a bit of space between some of the numbers.
Rewrite: In 2023, Pankiw interviewed McLachlan three times for the film, primarily in two sessions a few months apart.
But even with that re-write, I’m a little confused. Apparently, there were three interviews, but two “main sessions.” Were the two main sessions held a few months apart, or was that the interval for all three sessions?
And, really, who cares about that level of detail? How about simply saying: In 2023, Pankiw interviewed McLachlan three times for the film.
Clunker No. 3.
"Family took centre stage – along with her school, where more than 1,200 at-risk and underserved youth receive free instruction every year, and being active in nature."
Like Clunker No. 1, this sentence suffers from having a short phrase tacked awkwardly on to the end.
The way the sentence is written, we’re led (or misled) to the conclusion that Lederman is using two phrases to describe “school”: 1. “where more than 1,200 at-risk and underserved youth receive instruction every year”, and 2. “being active in nature.”
But as it turns out, “being active in nature” has nothing to do with the school. It’s about McLachlan herself. With our expectations thus thwarted, we’re forced to do one of those tedious backtracks to clarify who was “being active.”
Again, the fix is pretty simple: Put “family” and “being active in nature”, both of which relate to McLachlan, together at the front end of the sentence.
Rewrite: Family and being active in nature took centre stage—along with her school, where more than 1,200 at-risk and underserved youth receive free instruction every year.
Clunker No. 4.
"McLachlan is no figurehead; she is deeply involved in the school, which began in 2002 and now has three locations, beyond hosting fundraisers."
Here again, we have a phrase—“beyond hosting fundraisers”—that’s out of place. It’s not the school that goes beyond hosting fundraisers, it’s McLachlan.
Rewrite: McLachlan is no figurehead: beyond hosting fundraisers, she is deeply involved in the school, which began in 2002 and now has three locations.
(As an added bonus to you all, I suggest you use a colon after “figurehead”, not a semi-colon. The phrase that follows serves to explain and elaborate on the initial assertion that “McLachlan is no figurehead.”)
Clunker No. 5.
"She thinks a lot about mortality, having lost both of her parents—and as she ages herself."
Why does McLachlan think a lot about mortality? Two reasons: 1. she’s lost both of her parents, and 2. she is aging herself. The em dash is therefore out of place; it should come after “mortality.”
Rewrite: She thinks a lot about mortality—having lost both of her parents and as she ages herself.
Why should you care about syntax?
Pinker states the obvious: “An awareness of syntax can help you avoid ambiguous, confusing, and convoluted sentences.”
But he also says: “The use of consistent grammar reassures a reader that the writer has exercised care in constructing his prose, which in turn increases her confidence that he has exercised care in the research and thinking behind the prose.”
And beyond that, Benjamin Dreyer (Copy Chief of Random House), swears to us that “a well-constructed sentence sounds better. Literally sounds better.”
How to fix your garbled sentences?
Write, then review. Set your prose aside and come back to it later. Ask a colleague or friend to read it. Or read it aloud yourself. As Dreyer says, “A sentence that can’t be easily voiced is a sentence that likely needs to be rewritten.”
Or, I suppose, you could always send your prose to me. (Marsha, darling, I’m here for you. Anytime.)
Remember this: Syntax is the way in which words are put together to form phrases or clauses. Paying attention to syntax helps you create well-formed sentences—sentences that are clear, unambiguous, and satisfying for the reader.
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