STYLE AND STYLE-CARDS.
A New York composing-room was run for many years without a regular
style-card, and the foreman would not allow any posting of decisions as
to style. When, however, an advertisement was printed with _bar rooms_
as two words, and the foreman happened to notice it, the proof-reader
was asked sharply, “What is our style for _barroom_?” It was an
unwritten but established law in the office that _barroom_ should be
one word; and the foreman, in that instance, did not think of the
probability that the advertiser had insisted upon his own form for the
term--as, in fact, he had.
In the office where this happened the workers were as little hampered
with style as any workers possibly could be, and the foreman always
said he would have no style; yet there certainly was a “style of the
office,” with many absurdities, such as making _base ball_ two words
and _football_ one word, capitalizing common words of occupation before
names, as Barber Smith, Coachman Brown, etc. Some of the old-time
absurdities have since been corrected, _baseball_, for instance, now
being printed as one word.
In a neighboring office the opposite extreme is exemplified, the
style-card being so intricate that some good compositors have worked
there many years without really learning in full the “style of the
office.” Some of the compositors seldom do much correcting, but
the average of time lost in making really needless corrections is
unquestionably greater than in the office first mentioned.
Book-offices also have their own intricacies of style, with the
additional bother of having to suit the varying whims of authors
and publishers. “Many men of many minds” write for the papers, but
their various whims need not be humored as those of book-writers must
be. Authors of books frequently insist upon having things their own
way, and too often the printers have to make that way for them, in
opposition to what the authors write. This is certainly something for
which the authors should be made to pay. If an author is determined
to have certain matters of style conform to a certain set of whims,
or even of good, logical opinions, he should write accordingly or pay
extra for the necessary changes.
Nothing can be more sure than the fact that every printing-office
must have some working rules of the kind classed as the “style of
the office,” to which the work in general must conform, even when
authors’ whims sometimes interfere. At present almost every office
has some style peculiar to itself, that compositors and proof-readers
must learn in the beginning of their experience there, and which they
must unlearn on changing their place of employment. The greatest evil
in this lies in the fact that many of the peculiarities are purely
whimsical. Reformation is needed, and it is within the power of a
body of proof-readers to devise and inaugurate a practical reform, by
choosing from among the various items of style those which seem best
to a majority of the readers, and requesting their general adoption by
employing printers.
Benjamin Drew’s book, “Pens and Types,” has a chapter on “style” that
gives valuable hints for such work of reform. We are there told that
the proof-reader “at the very threshold of his duties is met by a
little ‘dwarfish demon’ called ‘Style,’ who addresses him somewhat
after this fashion: ‘As you see me now, so I have appeared ever since
the first type was set in this office. Everything here must be done as
I say. You may mark as you please, but don’t violate the commands of
Style. I may seem to disappear for a time, when there is a great rush
of work, and you may perhaps bring yourself to believe that Style is
dead. But do not deceive yourself--Style never dies.... I am Style, and
my laws are like those of the Medes and Persians.’ And Style states his
true character.”
Among the numerous differences of style mentioned by Mr. Drew are
some that should not be classed as style, because one of the two
possible methods is logical and right, and the other is illogical and
wrong. For instance, Mr. Drew says: “Here, the style requires a comma
before _and_ in ‘pounds, shillings, and pence’; there, the style is
‘pounds, shillings and pence.’” Such a point in punctuation should not
be a question of style, since one way must be better than the other
as a matter of principle. In this particular case there is not only
disagreement, but most people seem to have fixed upon the exclusion
of the comma before the conjunction in a series of three or more
items, notwithstanding the fact that its exclusion is illogical and
as erroneous as any wrong punctuation can be. The text-books, with
very few exceptions, teach that the comma should be used; and, as said
above, this seems to be the only possible reasonable teaching. Each
item in such an enumeration should be separated from the next by a
comma, unless the last two, or any two united by a conjunction, are so
coupled in sense that they jointly make only one item in the series.
This curious fact of common practice directly opposed to prevalent
teaching is instanced as showing how erratic style is, and how
necessary it is that the “style of the office” should be fully recorded.
Nothing could be more helpful than a style-card, especially if it
be made the duty of some person to add thereto each new decision
affecting style, so that the type may be set with certainty that
arbitrary changes will not have to be made. Conflicting corrections are
continually made by different proof-readers in the same office, and
even by the same reader at different times. Such things should be made
as nearly as may be impossible, and nothing else will accomplish this
so well as a style-card that must be followed.