I begin this lesson on a difficult grammatical concept called the “subjunctive mood” with a memory of one of the first pornographic films I ever saw. It was called “The Secret Lives of Romeo and Juliet,” and by contemporary standards would barely raise even a highbrow eyebrow.
But back in the day, it was considered hot stuff, a bawdy parody of the Bard in which the young star-crossed lovers get it on without the covers. I remember the hilarious send-up of the balcony scene in which Romeo stares up at the star-gazing Juliet and speaks Shakespeare’s actual words:
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek.
At just that moment, the camera pans down to see a gloved female hand upon Romeo’s bare bottom.
Which brings me, of course, to the subjunctive mood.
Verbs wear different costumes for different kinds of masked balls, and we call these verb forms “moods” or “modes.” The most common have names, as provided by this simple AHD definition of “mood”:
Add to this the interrogative mood, where the speaker asks a question, and we’ve covered most of the territory.
When I feel in the indicative mood, I indicate my thoughts or ideas to the reader or listener. In this mood, I make straightforward statements, which is why the great majority of sentences, say, in The New York Times or the Encyclopedia Britannica or “War and Peace” are indicative.
So begins Jane Austen’s novel “Emma,” rolling over the English countryside in the indicative mood.
Interrogative sentences ask questions, of course, and can be used by writers to generate not just answers but also mystery or narrative energy. In an old photo studio in El Paso, Texas, more than 50,000 portraits –- without names — were discovered from as early as the 1920s. Stephanie Simon writes in The Wall Street Journal:
Her quarries are the names behind the faces in 50,000 antique negatives left in the town’s shuttered Casasola photography studio.
Who was the middle-aged matron flirting under a sombrero? Why did the young man with the butterfly tattoo pose bare-chested, clutching a can of spinach? What became of the grim-faced bride?
The interrogative mood reminds us that we are all creatures of curiosity. But the interrogative can be tricky business, for a question can act as a statement or even an order, as when my dear wife asks, “Are you going to leave your socks on the floor like that?” She had a choice between that question and the indicative: “You always leave your socks on the floor.” Or the imperative: “Pick up your darn socks!”
Parents are well versed in the use of all three of these moods:
Indicative: I’ve told you a million times that you cannot go to R-rated movies without my permission.
Interrogative: Do you think money grows on trees?
Imperative: For the thousandth time, clean up your room!
But then comes the moodiest of moods, that mood a la mode, the uncertain subjunctive. The word “subjunctive” relates to “subjective,” which suggests a state of mind that may be conditional or contrary to fact. What I am about to describe is tricky and complicated, but if you work to grasp it you’ll avoid some common grammatical mistakes.
The speaker or writer uses the subjunctive –- which in our own time can seem either archaic or erudite –- to express a degree of uncertainty. You are most likely to recognize subjunctive verb forms in your reading when you come upon a verb that you think could not possibly be correct, as in the old subjunctive clause “If it be true” or “If it were true,” as opposed to the more contemporary “If it is true.”
Fear and prejudice led opponents of Barack Obama to assert, contrary to fact, that Obama was an Arab or a Muslim. Such misinformation was denied, and proven inaccurate time and again, which led CNN’s Campbell Brown to wonder out loud: “So what if Obama were a Muslim?” Notice the appropriate use of the subjunctive “were,” rather than the indicative “was.” Because Obama is not a Muslim, the sentence is contrary to fact and requires the subjunctive.
The most common pattern of subjunctive statements come with adverbial clauses, especially ones beginning with “if.”
“If I were you, I would leave town this minute.” But I’m not you, so contrary to fact, the sentence requires the subjunctive forms “were” and “would.”
“If he was a child molester, why hasn’t he been arrested?” We don’t know whether or not he is a molester, so the statement is not contrary to fact and can be expressed in the indicative mood.
Verb forms like “could,” “would,” and “should” are part of the subjunctive posse because each of them describes the world with a degree of uncertainty:
“We could go to that, party, but should we?”
“I don’t know. Would you like to go?”
Now let’s return to the star-struck Romeo:
“See how she leans her cheek upon her hand!”
That sentence happens to be in the imperative mood because Romeo insists that we observe Juliet from his point of view.
“O, that I were a glove upon that hand…” He is not a glove, of course, so the indicative form “I was” must be replaced by “I were,” even though my crack computer grammar checker wants to me to correct “were” to “was.”
“That I might touch that cheek.” But you’re not a glove, so you won’t, and now I’m laughing again thinking about that cheeky moment in “The Secret Lives of Romeo and Juliet.”
