How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count The Ways

I've mentioned several times here before that my favourite piece of punctuation is the semicolon. But it seems to me that I've been remiss in elaborating on the object of my affection and just why it is I find this little mark so intensely attractive.

Honestly, I'm surprised none of you have asked, although perhaps its charms are obvious, or perhaps you have feared the boredom that so oft accompanies tales of a beloved from an enamoured lover, in which their love affair is the most passionate, most intimate, most heavenly that ever existed - just like every other one.

Nonetheless, the tale of our coming together bears telling. In many ways, it's the old story - girl meets punctuation mark, they fall in love, they have a falling out after a misunderstanding, and then, brought together again, they ride off into the sunset.

I'm not sure when I started using it; it was probably in high school that it began to appear in my essays. Soon, my papers were littered with it, and we were young and foolish and in love.

Then, a wedge where once it seemed no crack could be - a second-year university paper returned, filled with green circles highlighting each instance of my beloved, and the fateful comment: Your use of the semicolon is incorrect.

Betrayed! Not only by high school English teachers who failed to instruct me in the ways of the punctuation world, but by the very mark with which I lavished my work. How could it rest there so easily and so silent while so clearly aware of my error?

We parted ways for some time after that. I was angry at the part it played in eliciting a grade of less than an A (on an English paper, no less!); it was hurt by my swift abandonment and the solace I found in the easy and welcoming arms of the comma.

But despite thinking I'd moved on, I kept thinking about it. Seeing it in other places, jealous of the way others seemed to use it so effortlessly.

So I became the bigger person, swallowed my pride, and finally learned how to use the darned thing. And started doing just that.

We moved slowly at first; both chastened and burned by the ill-advised yet intense passion of our first encounters, we were unsure of what our new relationship would look like. But hesitancy gave way to that easy understanding that comes with years of intimacy, caution became comfort, and it has since become my dearest punctuation partner.

Here's why: when it comes to connection, the semicolon is unmatched. Semicolons connect two independent but related clauses. In other words, like marriage at its very best, the semicolon takes two individuals and bonds them while maintaining them as distinct beings.

Observe:

My kids are whining. They don't want to clean up the Lego.

My kids are whining, for they don't want to clean up the Lego.

My kids are whining; they don't want to clean up the Lego.

The first example does the job, but it's choppy. Across the pond, they call the period a "full-stop," which I think is a much better description of its effect. "Period" suggests a simple pause, but in reality, this mark requires a reader who is cruising along to stop abruptly and look both ways before stepping on the gas again.

The second example allows the reader to keep going, but it's cumbersome. A comma joining independent clauses demands the use of a conjunction, an extra word serving to join the two sentences together. Plus, this is where danger lies: too many writers, either lazy or still under the impression that a pause invariably equals a comma, leave out the conjunction, leading to that fatal error - the comma splice.

But the third, ah, the third example is a picture of elegance. The two sentences remain distinct, but they are joined nonetheless, sweetly and by the simplest of marks. The semicolon inserts a brief pause without the jarring effects of the full-stop, while simultaneously speaking of promise: Reader, there is more to come, once you have caught your breath.

The semicolon is often described as being a "combination of a period and a comma." Although prosaic, this definition speaks truth. Like the period, the semicolon signals closure and gives the dignity of finality to the preceding clause; however, at the same time, like the comma, the semicolon beckons the reader on, softening any end-of-clause harshness.

The period, all business with its judge's gavel-like stamp of termination. The comma, all pleasure with its sassy swirl and its crooked come-hither finger. Brought together into punctuational perfection.

And that, my friends, is why I love the semicolon.