
In "Do I Make Myself Clear?", legendary editor Sir Harold Evans wages war on murky prose. This 416-page manifesto reveals how unclear writing isn't just annoying - it's dangerous. NPR-recommended and praised for its "Ten Shortcuts to Making Yourself Clear" that even preachers swear by.
Sir Harold Matthew Evans (1928–2020) was a legendary British editor, journalist, and author celebrated for his transformative impact on investigative journalism and editorial integrity. His book Do I Make Myself Clear reflects his lifelong dedication to precise communication, drawing from his 14-year editorship of The Sunday Times where he pioneered groundbreaking exposés like the thalidomide scandal cover-up and the Kim Philby spy revelations.
Evans’s work spans nonfiction genres, blending meticulous research with narrative flair to address themes of justice, transparency, and democratic accountability.
A knighted media icon, Evans authored bestsellers like The American Century and They Made America, which explore innovation and historical storytelling. As president of Random House and founder of Condé Nast Traveller, he shaped global publishing standards. His fearless reporting earned him recognition as the “greatest British newspaper editor of all time” by industry peers. Evans’s books have sold millions worldwide, cementing his legacy as a defender of press freedom and public-interest journalism.
Do I Make Myself Clear? is a practical guide to writing clearly and effectively in the digital age. Harold Evans, a Pulitzer Prize-winning editor, emphasizes concise communication, active voice, and eliminating jargon. The book includes editing techniques, historical examples, and a 10-point checklist to transform bloated prose into precise writing.
This book is ideal for writers, editors, students, and professionals seeking to improve their communication skills. Evans’ actionable advice benefits anyone crafting emails, reports, or creative content, particularly in an era plagued by information overload and unclear digital messaging.
Yes, Evans combines decades of editorial expertise with engaging examples, making it a standout resource for mastering clarity. The book’s blend of historical context (e.g., Lucius Adelno Sherman’s sentence analysis) and modern challenges (texting abbreviations like "LMK") ensures relevance across generations.
Evans’ checklist includes strategies like prioritizing strong verbs, avoiding passive voice, and trimming redundancies. For example, he rewrites convoluted sentences like “The decision was made to proceed” to “We decided to proceed,” showcasing immediate improvements.
The book critiques overreliance on formulas like Flesch-Kincaid, arguing they miss nuances like logical flow or audience needs. Evans agrees with experts like Ginny Redish, stressing that clarity requires more than metrics—it demands empathetic editing.
Notable lines include:
Unlike strictly technical manuals, Evans blends journalism anecdotes (e.g., editing Henry Kissinger) with actionable frameworks. This dual focus on theory and practice makes complex concepts accessible, setting it apart from dry grammar guides.
Some reviewers note Evans’ brief treatment of readability formulas and his occasional dense prose. However, these are minor flaws in an otherwise comprehensive toolkit for aspiring writers.
The book teaches professionals to eliminate corporate jargon (e.g., “synergize paradigms”) in favor of direct language. Evans’ editing examples demonstrate how clarity boosts credibility, whether in emails, pitches, or reports.
In an age of AI-generated content and misinformation, Evans’ emphasis on precision remains vital. The book equips readers to spot ambiguous language in news, social media, and marketing, fostering critical thinking.
He analyzes texts from Winston Churchill to legal documents, showing how timeless principles apply today. For instance, dissecting Churchill’s speeches reveals the power of rhythmic cadence and simplicity.
Evans highlights overuse of passive voice, nominalizations (“discussion” vs. “discuss”), and vague adjectives. He provides before-and-after edits to illustrate fixes, such as changing “a period of considerable difficulty” to “a crisis”.
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Clear writing isn't merely aesthetic-it's moral.
The unclouded face of truth must not suffer wrong.
I would have written something shorter, but I didn't have time.
Fake news spreads six times faster than truth.
Break down key ideas from Do I Make Myself Clear? into bite-sized takeaways to understand how innovative teams create, collaborate, and grow.
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Have you ever read a sentence so convoluted that by the time you reached the end, you'd forgotten the beginning? In an era when words can trigger financial meltdowns or justify military strikes, clear writing isn't merely aesthetic-it's moral. Harold Evans, legendary editor who transformed The Sunday Times into an investigative powerhouse, wages war against what he calls "zombie nouns"-bloated abstractions that devour lively verbs and leave readers bewildered. When The Economist named "Do I Make Myself Clear?" among the best books of 2017, they noted how Evans "practices what he preaches," delivering insights with the same clarity he advocates. As fake news proliferates and political discourse deteriorates, his decades of experience offers a timely antidote to our growing linguistic fog.
Communication platforms actively shape political discourse rather than merely transmitting it. Twitter's character limits reduce complex ideas to brief put-downs, while algorithms prioritize emotional engagement over accuracy. Donald Trump's social media effectiveness-particularly his nicknames like "Lying Ted" and "Crooked Hillary"-stemmed from their optimization for the medium: short, memorable, and shareable. False news spreads six times faster than truth on social media because falsehoods trigger stronger emotional responses. This degradation of public language has eroded citizen-leader trust, creating a vacuum filled by simplistic rhetoric. During the COVID-19 pandemic, complex public health messages struggled against more emotionally compelling misinformation. Clear writing has always been difficult because thoughts evolve during expression. As Pascal noted, "I would have written something shorter, but I didn't have time"-acknowledging that brevity requires more effort than verbosity. In our digital discourse, the pressure for rapid responses often supersedes clear communication.
Language has evolved over centuries, with average sentence length decreasing from fifty words in the early sixteenth century to twenty-three by the early twentieth-bringing clarity without sacrificing literary value. This evolution reflected prose adapting to speech's directness, exemplified by Flaubert reading his work aloud to test its rhythm. Rudolf Flesch created the first mathematical readability formula in 1943, considering sentence length and syllable count. Robert Gunning followed with his "fog index," identifying complex sentences and multisyllabic words that impede comprehension. The Dale-Chall formula focused on vocabulary familiarity rather than word length. These formulas serve as diagnostic tools but have limitations-they can't evaluate meaning, logic, metaphor, or energy. A passage might score perfectly on readability metrics yet contain nonsense. What these formulas confirm is that comprehension improves with concrete language, active voice, and varied sentence structure. The science validates what good writers intuitively know: clarity comes not from simplifying ideas but from expressing them with precision and purpose.
Language gives us godlike creative power-for good or ill. Throughout his book, Evans shows how slipshod writers damage our language, while deceptive writers deliberately obfuscate to serve their interests. Sir William Haley called this a moral issue: "There are things which are bad and false and ugly and no amount of specious casuistry will make them good or true or beautiful." The real-world consequences are severe: A 2010 White House document about a failed terrorist attack used 2,567 words of bureaucratic fog to avoid assigning responsibility. Evans' rewrite required just 1,030 words while preserving all essential information. The original buried intelligence failures in passive voice, obscuring accountability. More disturbing are cases where vague language costs lives. In 2015, an American gunship mistakenly attacked a Doctors Without Borders hospital in Afghanistan, killing 42 innocents-partly due to ambiguous terms like "softening the target" and imprecise location descriptions. Similarly, General Motors' avoidance of words like "stall" and "defect" (preferring "customer convenience issue") delayed recalls of faulty ignition switches that ultimately killed 124 people.
Evans doesn't just identify problems; he provides concrete solutions with eight fundamental principles: 1. **Get Moving**: Use active voice for directness. "A baby was kissed by the pope" becomes "The pope kissed a baby," reducing words and increasing impact. 2. **Be Specific**: Choose concrete particulars over vague abstractions. Evans contrasts generic description ("The hotel offered various amenities") with Martha Gellhorn's vivid reporting: "Sikhs with their beards in hair nets" and "Muslim African women, enormous and coy, hidden except for their eyes in black rayon sheets." 3. **Ration Adjectives, Raze Adverbs**: Question every modifier's necessity. Adverbs ending in -ly particularly weaken writing, creating what Stephen King calls "the road to hell." 4. **Cut the Fat**: Eliminating bloat improves comprehension. Evans shows how a 108-word corporate message can be condensed to 59 words without losing meaning. 5. **Organize for Clarity**: Use parallel structure to enhance rhythm, as in Evans' description: "They tested, they measured, they calculated, they built." 6. **Be Positive**: Assert rather than negate. "The project failed" communicates more clearly than "The project was not successful." 7. **Don't Be a Bore**: Vary sentence structure to maintain engagement. Good writing mixes loose, periodic, and balanced sentences with "noble swing and perfect control of pulsation." 8. **Put People First**: Make content directly relevant through concrete illustrations. "How to qualify for state money for insulating your house" engages readers more effectively than "a domestic accommodation energy-saving improvement program."
Evans balances his critique with celebration of exceptional clarity and power. Roger Angell "could make a paper clip sing" through his conversational style that relied on concrete images, describing baseball pitches as "dying quails" while conveying technical expertise with grace. Barbara Demick's reporting on North Korea illuminates what satellite photos cannot: human lives unfolding in literal darkness. Her unobtrusive style lets readers visualize a teenage couple who "learned to love in the darkness," walking together "scattering ginkgo leaves in their wake" under surprisingly brilliant night skies. The most effective writing often comes from meticulous revision. FDR's "date which will live in infamy" speech demonstrates this perfectly. His initial draft referred to Pearl Harbor as a "date which will live in world history"-a flat phrase. Through careful editing, Roosevelt replaced it with "infamy," a word meaning "public disgrace and dishonor" that perfectly captured the vileness of Japan's surprise attack and helped galvanize a nation for war.
Words have consequences far beyond the page, shaping not just our understanding but our very reality. They influence policy decisions, sway public opinion, and determine whether we hold powerful institutions accountable. When language becomes clouded-whether through carelessness, complexity, or deliberate obfuscation-democracy itself suffers. The solution begins with awareness and requires constant vigilance. By recognizing linguistic fog for what it is-whether negligent or nefarious-we can demand better. We can write with precision and purpose, choosing active voice over passive, concrete examples over vague abstractions, and direct statements over hedging qualifications. In our increasingly complex world, clear language isn't just about communication-it's about honesty, accountability, and sometimes even survival. The fog enveloping English isn't just aesthetically displeasing; it creates conditions where mistakes multiply, responsibility dissolves, and people suffer. The next time you write anything-an email, report, or social media post-remember that clarity isn't merely a courtesy to your reader but a moral obligation to truth itself. Your words matter more than you know.