It was the best of sentences, it was the worst of sentences - June Casagrande 2010

A frequently overstated case: The truth about adverbs

It is, perhaps, the most famous bit of sentence-writing advice of all time: avoid adverbs. Yet I'd guess that about nine out of ten people who spout this advice would flunk the following test. Find all the adverbs in this sentence:

Knowing well that I can visit you there soon is not really very helpful, as I am not well and therefore cannot prudently travel tomorrow.

Did you catch prudently? Good. One point. If you also caught really, you're at two points. Did you also catch well? Excellent, but only if you counted it once. The second well is not an adverb, only the first one is. So, assuming you got all those right, you're at three points. Pat yourself on the back because three out of eight ain't bad.

That's right, there are eight—count 'em, eight—adverbs in this sentence. They are well (the first but not the second one), there, soon, really, very, therefore, prudently, and tomorrow. Yep, this tomorrow is an adverb. Don't believe me? Look it up in your dictionary. I'll wait.

When people say that adverbs hurt writing, they're talking about a specific kind of adverb, called a manner adverb—even though they may not realize it. Manner adverbs are the ones that describe the manner in which an action occurred: walk quickly, eat slowly, dance enthusiastically. When people say to avoid them, there's some wisdom in their advice, but only for those wise enough to understand it. So before we get into what this advice means and when to apply it, let's hunker down and get a basic understanding of adverbs.

Adverbs are the best-kept secret of the grammar world. Their true identity is cleverly hidden in plain view. I consider it one of the great mysteries of our language that, though we all learned about adverbs in school and though many of us can still remember the Schoolhouse Rock adverbs song, almost nobody knows what an adverb is.

Here is the best way to understand what an adverb is. Adverbs answer the questions

• when? I'll see you tomorrow.

• where? Go play outside.

• in what manner? Sue ran quickly.

• how much or how often? You're very early. You're rarely late.

Adverbs also give commentary on whole sentences: Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. Those are called sentence adverbs. And they can create a link to the previous sentence: Consequently, the engine exploded. Those are called conjunctive adverbs.

Adverbs can modify verbs (Mark whistles happily), adjectives (Betty is extremely tall), other adverbs (Mark whistles extremely happily), or whole sentences (However, I don't care).

But there are also things called adverbials, which may or may not be adverbs:

Additionally, there will be cake.

In addition, there will be cake.

Think of an adverbial as any unit doing an adverb's job: answering when, where, or in what manner, or modifying a whole thought. So in our first example, we have a conjunctive adverb, additionally, working as an adverbial. But in our second example, we have a prepositional phrase, in addition, working as an adverbial. Think of adverb as a word class—a club. Adverbial is a job. And often the dictionary makers get the final say on whether any word does the job enough to earn membership in the club. That's why your dictionary probably says that tomorrow can be an adverb but that Tuesday is exclusively a noun. In I'll see you tomorrow, the word tomorrow is an adverb doing the job of an adverbial, answering the question when. But in I'll see you Tuesday, the word Tuesday is a noun doing the same job. Tuesday does not qualify as an adverb only because most dictionary makers haven't admitted it into the club.

A lot of words that are adverbs also count as other parts of speech. For instance, if you look up tomorrow, you see that it's also a noun, depending on its job in a sentence. In Tomorrow can't come soon enough, the word tomorrow performs the action of the verb. So it's a noun. In I'll see you tomorrow, the same word answers the question when. So it's an adverb.

Well is an adverb when it describes an action. But look it up and you'll see that it's also an adjective meaning "in good health." So the well in I am well is actually a different word from the well in I do well.

Full mastery of adverbs takes time and, frankly, isn't necessary for our goal of writing good sentences. But there are three things you should remember about adverbs:

1. Adverbs are a very broad group that includes those ~ly words we all learned, but also many other types of words. To identify adverbs, think of them as words that answer the questions when, where, how, to what degree, and in what manner. When in doubt, check a dictionary. Better yet, check two or three.

2. When someone tells a writer to avoid adverbs, the speaker really means avoid manner adverbs—the ones that answer the questions in what manner and to what degree.

3. Adverbials can be single words or whole phrases that inject when-, where-, or how-type information into your sentence (I'll exercise on Monday) or offer commentary on the whole sentence: Tragically, Jonas was fired. In consequence, he found a new job.

Now, at long last, we can talk about that age-old bit of writing advice: avoid (manner) adverbs. When people tell you to avoid adverbs, they often have in mind sentences like these:

Brenda Bee is the author of two books on knitting and has previously written three children's books.

Yuri was formerly a dancer with the Bolshoi ballet for eleven years.

The manner adverbs in these examples stink. Period. The adverbs are redundant. What's the difference between Bee has written and Bee has previously written? Nada. Our Yuri sentence, too, uses an adverb to repeat information already conveyed by a verb: Was a dancer has the same meaning as was formerly a dancer. Adding formerly creates a droning "blah-blah-blah" effect that tells the Reader, "Hey, I wasn't paying attention to my own words, so why should you?"

Let's look at another example:

People who aren't happy in their jobs may be more likely to stay with their current employers than look for new ones because they see so many Americans involuntarily losing their jobs.

This sentence is from a piece by a professional columnist, which proves that even the best of us can encounter adverb problems. In voluntarily losing their jobs, in this sentence at least, is not one iota different from just plain old losing their jobs. The Reader gets the message and doesn't need to be told that getting canned is involuntary.

When we eliminate the adverb, we take out a redundancy. But we also streamline the sentence for some less-is-more value:

because they see so many Americans losing their jobs.

This is a sentence-level microcosm of that most iconic bit of writing advice: show, don't tell. Job loss is a thing. The Reader can see it for what it is. He doesn't need it gussied up with descriptions or value judgments. You can use an adverb to tell what an action was like: Kevin slammed the door forcefully. But you're better off showing the results of that action: Kevin slammed the door, shattering the wood.

Now let's look at another way manner adverbs can go wrong:

Ralph maniacally gave Joseph a sneer, then crazily and angrily began walking toward him.

"I want you," Aileen purred sexily.

These sentences illustrate a more subtle problem that is best summed up by a line from the 2007 film American Gangster.

In that movie, Frank Lucas, played by Denzel Washington, is a powerful 1970s crime boss who dresses with no more flash than a bank manager. His simple style is in stark contrast to the styles of his pimped-out sable-fur-wearing contemporaries. His reason for this understated image: "The loudest person in the room is the weakest person in the room."

In our examples, the manner adverbs are supposed to make the action more exciting. But in fact, they weaken the action. Ralph gave Joseph a sneer, then began walking toward him has an understated oomph that's lost when you try to drum it home with maniacally, crazily, and angrily. "I want you," Aileen purred doesn't need sexily to convey sex. Leave something to the imagination. Simplicity and austerity are powerful.

Adverbs can weaken the very ideas they're trying to beef up. Returning to an example we used in chapter 4, compare

I brutally killed him. I truly didn't want to. But he ultimately gave me absolutely no choice.

to

I killed him. I didn't want to. He gave me no choice.

You can see why I hang with the anti-adverbs people. But adverb defenders have a point, too. Often, manner adverbs achieve the desired effect:

Penny left quickly.

He stared at her longingly.

Clean this mess up immediately.

Senator Snide laughed cruelly.

"I want you to leave," Nora said simply.

Like all words, manner adverbs should be carefully chosen. They should carry some benefit that overrides the less-is-more principle. They should not create redundancies, and they should be free of that weak "look at me" quality to which they're so prone. They should not appear to be telling the stuff that your nouns and verbs should be showing.

Only when you've asked yourself whether your sentence is better off without a manner adverb can you decide whether that adverb deserves to stay.