Let’s pretend (and pretend we must) that I am a physicist and I open my prepared remarks before an audience like this: I would like this evening to say a few words about string theory, so that you might understand the basics of this complicated but amazing theory about the universe. Writing well involves not only questions of grammar, but also rhetorical choices, choices of style. In this opening sentence, where one decides to position the phrase this evening will change the character of the statement ever so slightly.
We should understand first that the phrase this evening is an adverb, specifically a temporal adverb, because it will be saying something about the time of whatever idea it is ultimately positioned to qualify. We should understand, too, that the temporal adverb is only one of a number of different kinds, each limiting in a different logical way the element it modifies. Adverbs of place, for example, have to do with location: I spoke to him in the lobby. Adverbs of manner concern the way in which something is done: that dog barked furiously at me. Adverbs of degree mark the magnitude of an action: they drove very fast down a country road. Such is the complexity (or probably better, the intricacy) of human awareness that grammarians have found numerous classes of adverbs to distinguish among; a practical number to recognize when revising our work, however, is four: time, place, manner, and degree.
Adverbs most often modify verbs (though they can modify adjectives and other adverbs as well), and where the adverbial phrase this evening stands now in our example sentence makes it unclear whether it is working with the preceding verb phrase, would like, or with the following infinitive, to say. In theory, which means here as a general rule, adverbs are governed by the law of proximity: they stand as close as they can to the word they modify. Whether that will mean before or after or between the modified elements will depend upon the kind of adverb it is. Adverbs of time, such as the phrase this evening, can be moved around quite liberally to rich and subtle effect.
If standing in this ambiguous position produces more uncertainty than I want to suggest, I could move this temporal adverbial phrase to the first position of the sentence: This evening I would like to say…. This, too, is an acceptable choice, but as a writer (or speaker) I should recognize that in this primary position, I am giving a decided emphasis to the idea of time: this evening, this particular occasion. The first and final positions of a sentence are always the most emphatic, and so if I decide that this emphasis is misplaced, I could reposition the phrase to stand immediately after the infinitive: I would like to say this evening…. That, however, might put an equally inappropriate emphasis on saying, as if to suggest I were about to assert something in opposition to something else, almost as if to be defending myself. Or I could decide to finalize the entire first clause with the adverb, establishing a more conclusive tone: I would like to say a few words about string theory this evening….
The point to notice here, then, is that so much depends on the right placing of the elements in a sentence. Not to hear the differences between these many rhetorical choices is to miss the chance both to create and to enjoy more of what lies beneath a simple-seeming thought. We’re often too ready to settle for less. My neighbor’s son, who is four years old, assured me the other day that he doesn’t need to study any more math when he begins first grade this fall because he “already knows math.” Preschool, it seems, was enough. There’s a lesson there, I thought: we all run the real risk of shortchanging ourselves when we believe there’s nothing more to discover. Though we inevitably come to realize how very wide and deep and rich is the world we find ourselves in, that expansive wealth itself can dull us early on into a routine of diminished expectations. Watching closely, as we must in the study and practice of writing, will help us keep our expectations high and wait for surprises everywhere—even in first-grade math.
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