Category Archives: Language use

Comprise, compose and consist have come to my attention quite forcibly this week, as I keep coming across examples of them being used incorrectly. Or, rather, comprise being used incorrectly. “Comprise of” and, in the past tense, “comprised of” seem to be getting more and more common, and the three words do have a similar meaning, in that they are all about larger things being made up of smaller things. But the way they are used, and the constructions that are built around them, are different and do need care. There is also a subtle shift in emphasis from the parts to the whole, which I’ll describe as I go through them.

The problem creeps in when they are not adequately differentiated in the writer’s mind, in which case the constructions leak across from one to another, causing (gasp!) incorrect sentence structures. And yes, there is a school of thought that says “if you can understand it, it doesn’t matter if it’s a bit incorrect or clumsy”, but I don’t think there’s any need to be incorrect and clumsy if you don’t have to be. There, I’ve said it. Anyway, here goes!

To comprise is to consist of (yes, I know), be made up of: “the country comprises four regions”. But not (please!) “the country comprises of four regions”. If you are desperate to use “of”, then you can turn the verb around and make the country the subject, so: “the country is comprised of four regions”. But I’ll repeat again, it’s not comprises of, and really I don’t much like is comprised of much, either, when it comes down to it, and if you write that in something I’m editing, I’m likely to suggest changing it!

The emphasis here is very much on the smaller constituent parts. We’re talking about what the larger thing is made up of, and they are the important things, rather than the whole.

Note that the large thing comprises the small things. The small things don’t really comprise the big one, or at least we don’t write it that way round.

To consist of means to be made up of – “the country consists of four regions”.  You can use that “of” as much as you like with consist! The emphasis here is on the parts that make up the whole, but also on the fact that they do make up a whole, so there’s an equal balance of importance.

And a little bonus: to consist in means to have as an essential feature – “Bob and Tom look very similar: their difference consists in the way they talk”.

If you can replace “consists” with “lies”, then use in. If you can replace “consists” with “is made up” then use of.

To be composed of, again, means to be made up of, although the emphasis shifts here subtly to the whole: the parts compose the whole, and the whole is what is important. “The work is composed of four movements”.

You can find more troublesome pairs here and the index to them all so far is here.

Having become known as someone who writes about this kind of thing, I was asked on Twitter the other day to explain the difference between unorganised and disorganised. It’s another one of these subtle shades of meaning, with one being more specific and the other more general – we seem to have quite a few of those in English and I do like them!

Being unorganised is all about the specific thing that is unorganised; it’s the acute version, if you like. A party where you haven’t planned any food for people to eat, an essay that has no plan to it and is that bit harder to write – that’s unorganised

Being disorganised is a general, holistic thing, more of a character point than a specific item. Following the medical analogy above, the chronic version of lack of organisation. So a disorganised person is generally chaotic and inefficient, and a disorganised committee or event is not properly planned and controlled. A disorganised desk is one in constant disarray, a disorganised essay has been written from that unorganised plan and is pretty unreadable.

I said it was subtle!

You can find more troublesome pairs here and the index to them all so far is here.

I have to admit that I thought there was more of a difference between persuade and convince than there actually turns out to be, but there is some interesting background that we can look at too.

To convince someone of something means to cause them to believe firmly in the truth of something, or – aha – persuade them to do something.

And to persuade someone to do something means to cause them to do something through reasoning or argument; to cause someone to believe something; to provide a sound reason for someone to do something.

So, all very similar. But here’s the interesting bit, and it does come across a little bit in the above explanations … Traditionally, convince is used in situations in which someone’s belief is changed but no action is taken – “I convinced her to believe in the tooth fairy”, whereas persuade is traditionally used in situations in which someone’s belief is changed and action is taken – “I persuaded him to buy the red trousers, even though he usually wore black”. Feel free to keep that distinction going if you want to!

You can find more troublesome pairs here and the index to them all so far is here.

Infer or imply is a classic troublesome pair, especially in the context of academic writing.

And they actually represent two sides of the same story, meaning that it’s important to be able to distinguish them and use them the right way round. But then again, that’s true of all my Troublesome Pairs, isn’t it!

To infer is to deduce from evidence and reasoning.

To imply is to indicate by suggestion.

So the main difference here which needs to be remembered is the viewpoint from which the word operates. The two words can even describe the same situation, but from different sides.

If a person implies something, they are suggesting that something but not stating it directly: “By mentioning the high-priced bath accessories, but not going through the details of the newspaper report, the speaker was implying that the MP was over-claiming her expenses”.

On the other hand, if you infer something from what has been said or written by that person, you infer something from what they say: “Having been told about the high-priced bath accessories listed on the MP’s claims, we inferred that she was over-claiming her expenses”.

So the evidence implies this conclusion, or we can infer this conclusion from the evidence. Different sides of the same story, and two more words that require careful handling.

You can find more troublesome pairs here and the index to them all so far is here.

These two words are to do with cause and effect (or not), and of Thing B happening after Thing A. But they don’t mean the same, even if people think they do!

Something is consequent when it follows on from something else as a consequence, i.e. as the result or effect of that first thing. “She dyed her brown hair platinum blonde and consequently stood out in the crowd” – so, she stood out from the crowd because she had platinum blonde hair.

Something is subsequent when it merely follows on from something else in time, i.e. not as a result or effect of that first thing. “She had brown hair and subsequently went blonde” – she didn’t go blonde because she had brown hair, it was just the next thing that happened. She could have had black, red or blue hair first; the original hair colour doesn’t affect the outcome.

“She had black hair before she dyed it red, consequently she had to bleach it first before applying the red dye subsequently”. I don’t think anyone would actually ever utter that sentence, but hopefully it explains matters!

You can find more troublesome pairs here and the index to them all so far is here.

I’m going to be honest here. I have only ever seen prerequisite written perquisite when the writer clearly meant the former. And I didn’t actually know what a perquisite was until I looked it up when I sat down to write this post. But just in case you ever need to know … here you go!

A prerequisite, which is the word I really feel most people will be looking for and using out of this pair, is a thing which is required or necessary as a prior condition to something else. So a prerequisite for working as a French teacher is the ability to speak French.  A prerequisite for being a proofreader is being able to spell. Oh, and it’s one word: no hyphen.

A perquisite, it turns out, is a special right or privilege that you enjoy as a result of  your position.  I would say a perquisite of being a freelancer is the ability to wear pyjamas all day, but I don’t think that’s what it’s really about: it’ll be something to do with those special rights to walk your sheep over London Bridge or some such. If anyone reading this actually HAS a perquisite, I’d love to know!

Stop press: My clever friend Jen pointed out – rightly – that the word perk comes from perquisite. A perk is a benefit to which one is entitled to as an employee (or shareholder) of a company and, by extension, a benefit or advantage that comes from a particular situation. I still miss my borrowing perks from when I worked at the library. Interestingly, the dictionary says that this is an abbreviation dating from the 19th century. Thanks, Jen!

You can find more troublesome pairs here and the index to them all so far is here.

Today’s troublesome pair is perspective and prospective. Why do I think these two get mixed up? Because they are longish words that are spelled very similarly!

The main meaning of perspective is the art of representing three-dimensional reality on a two-dimensional surface to give an impression of objects’ relative distance and size (a classic example of this is painting a picture of a tiled floor; an example of using this for amusing means is found when you take a photo that you have the Pyramids in your hand, or similar) and by extension it means the appearance of objects with regard to their relative position and distance from the person viewing them. Other meanings, which you can see are linked to this idea, include a particular way of viewing things (“from the rioters’ perspective, they had every right to take the trainers”), and an understanding of the relative importance of things (“you need to keep a sense of perspective about what he has done: stealing a tube of Polos is not as bad as mass murder”).

Prospective, more simply, means likely or expected to happen or be in the future – “I’d like to welcome my prospective son-in-law into the family – he will marry my daughter in September”; “with my prospective earnings for 2012, I will be able to retire in 2050”.

“From Mrs Brown’s perspective, having a prospective neighbour who was good at picking locks was a godsend, as she was always losing her front door key.”

So the meanings should not be that easily mixed up; it just requires a moment of pause, perhaps, before writing down the particular word you choose.

You can find more troublesome pairs here and the index to them all so far is here.

Cue and queue. I’ve been meaning to write about this one for ages, as I see it quite a lot, most frequently in popular culture and the media, in newspapers and magazines and personal communications like Facebook updates, Tweets and blog posts.

This is another of those homophone issues – i.e. the two words sound the same, so if you have only ever heard them, rather than having seen them written down, or particularly if you have only seen one of them written down, an assumption can be made about which spelling / word to use. I think I have seen each used incorrectly an equal number of times; is that your experience?

So, a cue (as well as being something used to play snooker and billiards, which I don’t think gets into this particular issue) was originally a signal to an actor or other performer to begin their speech or performance. This meaning has been extended to include anything that initiates or reminds one of the start of an action or speech. So an actor takes  his cue from the end of the previous actor’s speech, or their actions, while I might take my cue to speak from the person I’m speaking with pausing, or at a seminar, from the chair pointing to me, or a company might take its cue to deliver a new software application from the release of a hardware upgrade.  It’s all to do with getting some kind of indication that it’s time for some kind of action.

A queue is more, if you like, about INaction – as it is a line of people or vehicles, etc., waiting their turn to proceed or be attended to. The line of people at the bus stop or outside a gig, or the cars waiting to cross a level crossing while the gates are closed.

If you are hanging around waiting to buy a train ticket before the ticket office is opened, you might take your cue from the staff member opening their hatch to start a queue for tickets.

So: a cue initiates action, and a queue waits for it. Does that make sense?

You can find more troublesome pairs here and the index to them all so far is here.

Recently, I’ve seen sentences along the lines of “this will reassure you and give you piece of mind”, so I think it’s time for us to have a look at this troublesome pair: peace and piece. They come with two related phrases. Well, phrases that are related to each word, but actually mean very different things: “peace of mind” and “a piece of [someone’s] mind” and this is possibly how the two have come to get mixed up.

Peace means tranquillity, freedom from disturbance, and, most importantly, freedom from or the cessation of war or other conflict. “After the war, came peace”. “Peace of mind” means reassurance, tranquillity, knowledge that all is well. So good house and contents insurance or saving up some money to live on if you lose your job is likely to give you peace of mind.

A piece is a little bit of something. A piece of cake; a piece of the action. And to give someone a piece of your mind is to rebuke them or tell them off. A  bit different from the peace of mind in the first example!

So, if I give you a piece of my mind (grrr) then you might well be lacking in peace of mind for a while!

You can find more troublesome pairs here and the index to them all so far is here.