What is an apostrophe? A punctuation mark. It is one of those marks we use to communicate, one of those mysterious and mystifying little black boxes that we use to contain language. Language is the concrete communication of abstract thought, or the abstract communication of concrete concepts. The meaning of an apostrophe, therefore, is completely abstracted from the strange symbol on the page.
What does its abstraction signify? It is a mark of elision, used to denote a missing letter, dropped into the void and replaced by this strange little hanging dangle; or it is a mark of possession, of belonging. It is a mark of absence, or a mark of ownership. This dichotomy is one of the more extreme examples of bipolarity in the English language. The apostrophe marks the nonappearance of something. It marks the deliberate decision to remove. But it also marks possession. It marks the desire to claim something, to assign it an owner and controller. The apostrophe marks titular rights.
His fingers kept finding the apostrophe. There were apostrophes everywhere during that conversation. What does that mean? Is he dropping me? Am I to be the letter dropped from the word of his life? Will the shape of me be totally cut away, replaced by naught but a generic mark, a tiny blot where once the complexity of me used to curve and bend and stick? Does he dislike my curves, or my bends, or the hard ways I project myself out into the space of the world, into his life? Would he prefer the blandness of an apostrophe? Would he opt for the inoffensiveness of a tiny misshapen dot, for the ease of not having to say so many syllables? Perhaps I am too much. It has happened before.
Or perhaps he is trying to claim ownership. Perhaps he wants to possess me, to declare to the world that I am his, that I belong to him. Apostrophes are marks of possession. They declare the subject to be subjected to control, or at the very least, belonging to someone. Part of me thrills to that notion. Part of me rebels. Let me say this: I will only wear his apostrophe if he wears mine in return. I know that one to one ratios don’t exist, but fair is fair, and he can only claim me if I get equal rights to stake my own claim.
Oh, apostrophe, you mystify me! I know how to use you, but I don’t know what you mean. I know how to form a contraction, and how to form a possessive, and how not to form a plural, and even how to form a possessive plural. I know your history. I know you came to us through French, and that your use in elision once included not just dropped letters but unpronounced letters. I miss the days of “lov’d.” I know all about the man who, in 2006, was charged with vandalism for painting missing apostrophes onto street signs in the area of Royal Tunbridge Wells. I know about the people demanding you be restored to your rightful place in Harrod’s (now Harrods) and Selfridge’s (now Selfridges).
But how do I interpret your sudden appearance at the end of a sentence? What do you mean to say by such a breach of the way its always been before? How do I know what to make of you when you appear out of nowhere in a new place, in a new light, and I am forced to re-examine everything I know? You make me uncomfortable when you do that. You make me shiver and glance around my living room nervously, wondering if anyone can see over my shoulder. You make me lie awake at night, trying to decide if I like this new incarnation you’ve taken on. I lie in my cold bed and my heart warms to the thought of belonging, and then I remember that you are also an elision, an absence, and I am tormented by your duality.
You are a mystery, apostrophe. I am fascinated by your enigmatic uses. I am endlessly occupied by thoughts of you. I don’t know what to make of you. But I know that I am enjoying the making immensely. I know that I would like to know all the things that you have replaced in his life, and all the things you have claimed for him.
Dear, darling, beloved apostrophe: teach me to understand his meaning in your use, and I, too, will paint you on missing street signs and write letters to restore you to your rightful place in usage. Show me the secrets of his mind.
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