Dr. Eleanor Marsh, a retired editor whose pulse still quickened at a misplaced apostrophe, had just received two gifts. One was a bottle of expensive Chianti. The other was a brand-new copy of Oxford Modern English Grammar by Bas Aarts.
Eleanor blinked. “You’ve read Aarts?”
“Defective modals!” Tom raised his glass. “The best kind.” oxford modern english grammar by bas aarts
That evening, she hosted her nephew, Tom, a successful app developer who spoke in the fragmented, rapid clauses of the digital age. As they sat down to pasta, Tom held up his phone. “So, me and my team…”
Eleanor felt the floor of her linguistic universe tilt. She had spent forty years wielding who/whom like a sword. Now Aarts’s book sat on the sideboard, its calm blue cover a quiet rebellion. The other was a brand-new copy of Oxford
She opened the wine first, then the book. “Descriptive, not prescriptive,” she murmured, reading the preface. “Grammar as it is , not as it should be.” She found this both liberating and deeply unsettling.
She didn’t correct his sentence. She no longer needed to. Bas Aarts hadn’t given her a rulebook. He had given her a mirror—and in it, language lived, breathed, and occasionally split an infinitive with perfect grace. “The best kind
Tom nodded, chewing. “Aarts calls it a ‘thematic choice.’ The agent is suppressed because the speaker wants to avoid blame. Not bad grammar—just politics.”
Eleanor laughed. It was a rusty, surprised sound. All evening, they talked about aspect versus tense , the rise of the get -passive (“The window got broken”), and the curious life of the singular they .
By dessert, she opened her own copy. “He writes that modal verbs are ‘defective’ because they lack non-finite forms,” she said, almost happily.