Adventures in Grammarland

1. In the Beginning

It is the end. It was an old man’s voice, quaking with fear and foreboding, but tinged with anger. The sound seemed to come from far away, and yet those four words rang out clear as a bell. It is the end. Then, there was a crash like a thousand distant thunderclaps all meeting in one place, followed by the rumbling of a great building disintegrating beneath the onslaught of irresistible forces. The noise gradually subsided, as dust settles after a vast explosion, until, for a moment, there was silence. Save us, Help us, We must not all die, a dozen cries of lingering hope broke the stillness. But then came the wind and the rain, mere gusts at first but soon turning into a howling storm, blowing away the forlorn cries of those troubled souls, just as the waking mind coldly unravels and dispels a dream.

Very slowly Josh removed the flute from his lips and looked cautiously around the room. All seemed normal. He was in the library. The sun was shining through the windows. He could hear birds singing in the garden outside. And his father was sitting behind the old mahogany desk.

You’re definitely improving, said Mr Ware, putting down the book he had been reading.

What!, said Josh.

The flute, Mr Ware explained. You will soon have mastered those scales.

Oh! right, Josh agreed.

Obviously, and yet unbelievably, his father had heard nothing – except Josh’s flute exercises.

Anyway, you’d better put it away now. Your mother and I are going to the meeting at your school. Mrs Brown will be here as usual to keep an eye on things. We probably won’t be back until quite late, so make sure you’re in bed and asleep when we come in.

Josh placed his flute in its old black case. Carefully he returned the case to its accustomed space on the shelf, at the end of the small section of the library that his father had given him for his own books. The flute with its odd wooden mouthpiece had belonged to Josh’s father, and his father before him, and Mr Ware had said that one day, perhaps, Josh would pass it on to a son of his own.

Josh, still perplexed by his extraordinary experience, shook his head. The noise had been deafening and the cries for help desperate. He must have imagined it. And yet he had never heard strange voices before. And they had seemed so real, as though their owners had known he might be there and were calling out to him.

Josh’s father, who was now standing in the doorway of the library, called to his wife: They hold these parent-teacher meetings at the most inconvenient times. Mrs Ware stopped chatting to Mrs Brown and replied; This one really is very important. I even postponed a meeting with my publisher so that we could both go. Surely you don’t mind giving up a few hours?

No, of course I don’t mind, Barbara, Mr Ware answered a little grumpily. He was straightening his tie in the mirror that hung just inside the library door. On the floor, beneath the mirror, in its usual resting place, stood the ancient walking stick, capped with the finely-chiselled silver head of an old man. The stick, like the flute, had been in Mr Ware’s family for many generations and, although it had not enjoyed much exercise recently, it had accompanied Mr Ware’s father on many a long country walk until his death three years before. I don’t mind in the least. It’s just that I have so much to do.

The busiest people always have the most time, Mrs Ware teased.

That was said by a very clever, lazy person simply to encourage someone less clever but more industrious to work even harder.

’Sounds like a fair description to me, Mrs Ware replied. Whereupon, both Josh’s parents burst into laughter.

2. The Door

After tea, Mrs Brown settled down in front of the television. Josh liked Mrs Brown but it had always seemed to him that the only thing she kept her eye on when she stayed for an evening was ‘the box’. Or was it the other way round? Perhaps it was the television, with its great single eye and a thousand voices, which kept watch over Mrs Brown. (There’s nothing wrong with the boy’s imagination, Josh could hear his form-master telling his parents. Nothing wrong in that department. Oh, my word, no!)

At nine o’clock, in a break between programmes, Mrs Brown said to Josh: Isn’t it time you were off to bed? I suppose so, Josh conceded and complied. He would spend half an hour playing with his games console in his room and then go to sleep.

About half past ten, Josh awoke feeling thirsty. He slipped out of bed, put on his dressing-gown and crept quietly downstairs. He could hear the muffled voices from the television as he passed the door of the living room. When he reached the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator, poured himself an extremely large glass of orange squash and drank it in a series of long gulps. He felt much better.

It was as he returned along the passageway, as he passed the library door, that he heard, for the second time that day, a strange voice. At first he thought it must be coming from the television in the living room. But the living room was on the left side of the passage – and the voice came from the right. Josh stopped and listened.

Oh dear! said the voice, Why do they waste so much time arguing with each other? This continual bickering is entirely senseless.

With the greatest care and even greater caution, Josh turned the handle of the library door and gently opened it.

3. Grammarland

Well, are you coming or going? said the voice. Josh could see very little in the gloom of the library but, as his eyes became accustomed to the half light, he was able to make out a shape in the corner beside the door. Please shut the door, said the same voice, and do stop dithering. There really is no reason to be afraid.

Reason or not, Josh was afraid. The voice seemed to be coming from the silver-capped walking stick – and walking sticks can’t talk. But Josh was also curious. And his curiosity conquered his fear. Josh stepped into the library and closed the door.

That’s better, said the walking stick (for it was indeed the walking stick, or rather the silver head at the top of the stick which was speaking). It’s difficult enough to get away from all the arguing in here without having to listen to the television in the living room.

What… Who are you? said a still nervous Josh, who, despite the gloom, could now see clearly the silver face on the walking stick.

What do you mean, snapped the face, what, who am I? In the first place, which is, after all, an excellent place to begin, you really ought to take a grip on your Interrogative Pronouns. Do you mean ‘what’ or do you mean ‘who’ – or do you mean both?

I’m terribly sorry, said Josh pertly, surprising himself with his own audacity, but I had always thought you were a walking stick – not a talking stick.

I see, the voice returned, a boy with a taste for quips and rhymes. Rather like.. …never mind. I abhor insolence, although I concede it can be a sign of spirit and of that we shall surely have need. Nevertheless, there is no excuse for sloppy thinking. A walking stick indeed! If I may descend to the level of your own juvenile humour, you have, I suggest, taken hold of the wrong end of the stick. How, young man, would you feel if I described you as ‘flesh and bone’ or, perhaps more perspicaciously, ‘stuff and nonsense’! I may look like a walking stick. Indeed I may even be a walking stick. But I am not merely a walking stick – any more than you are just stuff and nonsense.

I’m sorry, said Josh. I did not intend to be rude.

Very well, said the voice. I will forgive you on this occasion, ‘though I think you should know that leniency in such matters is not a quality with which I am usually associated. Permit me to introduce myself. My name is Syntax.

Josh thought Syntax was a very strange name – but he did not say what he thought for he suspected that such a remark would provoke yet another rebuke.

Should I say Mr. Syntax, Sir? asked Josh, hoping that he sounded suitably deferential.

You may address me as Mr. Syntax, Sir – or indeed as Sir Syntax, or Professor Syntax, or Dr. Syntax, or Lord Syntax. It is a matter of total indifference to me. Syntax on its own is to be preferred, since that is my name and, although I have many honorary titles, I have no need of them. That said, I need hardly add – no abbreviations.

Josh wondered what he should say next. He suspected that anything he said might give offence.

Where am I? he hazarded. I mean I know I am in the library, but am I awake or am I dreaming?

That is not a very logical set of questions, responded Syntax. Do you mean ‘Where am I?’ or do you mean ‘What state am I in?’ Or rather ‘What condition am I in?’ Note, boy, that I prefer ‘condition’ to ‘state’ because ‘state’ could indicate either ‘place’ or ‘condition’. It is always better to say precisely what you mean, rather than to leave it to the judgement or guesswork of others. Are you with me, boy?

Well, I’m certainly with you in one sense, since I seem to be standing beside you, but I’m not sure I understand you, if that’s what you mean?

Syntax looked at Josh quizzically, uncertain whether the boy was being clever or rude – or both.

You asked where you are, said Syntax stiffly, his uncertainty still unresolved. "I will tell you. You are in the Library, the Gateway to Grammarland and I, Syntax, Defender of the Laws, Master of Words, Governor of the Sentence (all ancient honorary titles, boy), am its Guardian.

4. Words Use People

Josh’s head was in a whirl. It had been a very odd day. He looked back towards the library door through which he had entered. The door had disappeared. All he could see was row upon row of books. Where is the door? he blurted out.

There are many doors, said Syntax rather pompously, and as one door shuts, my boy, another opens.

Yes, but where is my door – the door to the Library? Josh persisted.

Hmm, returned Syntax and then, as though he felt this response inadequate, he said Hmm again.

Josh knew that he must not panic. And he knew he must not shout. Instead, he said very quietly, It has been a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Syntax, but now I think I should like to return to my bed.

Bed! exclaimed Syntax, You can talk of bed when there are adventures to be had, villains to be fought, battles to be won, victories to be claimed.

Well, you see, I promised my parents that I would be in bed when they came back.

Have no fear, at least on that account, instructed Syntax, They will fully understand. And, if not, they will forgive. In any case, assuming you return from the Quest, we can put you back in your bed in good time. Indeed, if you like, we can put you back in your bed before you got up to have a drink of orange squash. You see Grammarland is not subject to the same temporal considerations as those which obtain outside. It is merely a matter of changing the odd tense.

Not really knowing where to begin, Josh picked on one word which caused him particular concern. What do you mean ‘assuming’ I return?

My dear boy, said Syntax, hopping forward on his stem like a pogo-stick, you cannot have an adventure without danger. And, if things should not go well, you will at least know, if only briefly, that you have given yourself in a great cause.

But… was all Josh managed to utter. Before he could continue, Syntax silenced him with Shh!. There they go again, he said with a mixture of impatience and despair. Put these on, instructed Syntax, indicating, with a nod of his head, a pair of silver-framed spectacles which had appeared on the small table beneath the Library mirror, and come with me. We must see what we can do.

But I have perfectly good eye-sight, Josh objected.

You may have perfectly good eyesight on the other side of the Library door but, as a boy in Grammarland, you will certainly need these.

Josh remained unconvinced.

In your world, explained Syntax people use words to communicate with each other. Here it is the other way round.

What do you mean – ‘the other way round’? asked Josh, completely puzzled, Words use people? That is nonsense.

Words use people, repeated Syntax, evidently relieved that Josh had grasped his point. Precisely. Words use people and, indeed, other living creatures. These glasses have rather special lenses. They will help you to see what I mean and, as I said, they will help you to see what we can do. Trust me.

Reluctantly Josh put on the glasses.

And you had better take from the Library something that belongs to you. Just one thing, added Syntax.

But why? asked Josh.

"If you don’t have something with you from your world, it may be rather difficult to return you to it