Most of the rules we hear so much about in studying grammar and writing have to do with ensuring precision, which is the central concern of expository writing, the kind of writing we compose most often to present and explain facts and ideas. It seems to be endemically difficult for us to change our mental center of gravity and to realize that others are reading what we have to say from their own perspective, often with an entirely different set of assumptions.
That is the human condition. Being precise, therefore, about what we mean is all important to preclude being misunderstood, something which is in everyone’s interest. A rule we have all heard about from our school days is the one that governs the difference between good and well. In the two sentences I feel good and I feel well, for example, the question is not which is correct; each sentence means something distinct. The real question we should be asking is, what do I want to say? Precision, once again.
Let’s begin by looking at the verbs. We may classify verbs into two large groups, verbs of action and verbs of state. Those verbs of action which necessitate a direct object are called transitive: I feel something on my arm, and verbs of action which do not require a direct object are called intransitive: I feel strongly about this. Verbs of state, however, do not involve any kind of action; instead, they point to the state of being, mind or body, of the verb’s subject. In the sentence I feel well, no action is being indicated; the subject only wishes to say something about himself, specifically something about his physical or mental condition. A verb of state, called a copula or linking verb, most often identifies its subject with an adjective in the predicate, and that is the role well is playing in I feel well. As an adjective, well means being in good health.
What, then, is the difference between the statements I feel well and I feel good? Nothing more than the difference in meaning between the two adjectives. The verb feel remains a copula in both these sentences, but while the adjective well means being in good health, the adjective good refers not to one’s physical or mental condition, but to the subject’s moral condition, or more expansively to the integrity of the subject (we speak, for example, of a good car, referring to its mechanical reliability). In strict usage, to say I feel good means I regard myself as a good person. When someone asks us how are you? and we answer I’m good, we are answering a question the person is probably not asking. Most often one will pose that question to inquire about our well-being, not about our moral stature or personal integrity, and so the right and proper (and many will say too right and proper) reply would be I’m well.
And what about a sentence like he walks well now after his hip surgery? Here the word well is not referring to the subject, he, but to the verb, walks, which means that well can no longer be an adjective (because adjectives do not modify verbs), but has taken on the function of an adverb answering the question in what manner. And indeed a quick look at the dictionary will confirm that the word well can work grammatically as an adjective or an adverb (and also as a noun, a verb, and an interjection!). The important procedural observation to make in all this is that a word is used grammatically (within defined limits) as the structural circumstances of a sentence require. Or, to say the same thing differently, we can only know the part of speech of a word by first examining how it is being used in a particular statement.
After all of this is said and done, though, the question of how exactly we need to write or speak in a particular circumstance will have to be answered by each one of us individually but advisedly. There are some who believe that under no circumstance should the traditional rules be relinquished, and there are others who will say, as does one guide to writing of a half-century ago, that “grammatical rules are not something that has been revealed to us, but simply generalizations about the way people use words” (Evans and Evans, A Dictionary of Contemporary American Usage). My own view is that respect will dictate—respect for the exactitude necessary to the purpose and circumstances at hand. The range of linguistic usage slides from casual to formal, and a delicate sense (called taste) of the where and why we are composing our language will help us decide on the proper choice of words (called diction). A written composition tends very often toward the more formal side of the scale, and a relaxed conversation with friends over coffee will tend in the opposite direction. It can get tedious being the same person all the time.
But it’s subtle, and the choice requires discretion and perspicacity, as a teacher once made crystal clear when he admonished me after I objected to a change he had made to my essay: “And who told you that you could have only one written voice?” Indeed, but to realize such finesse is a challengingly new level to play the language game at. But, then again, who ever said we shouldn’t be subtle or challenged?
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