Grice's Maxims

Grice’s Conversational Maxims

H. P. Grice probably knew someone like me. Who knows, he may have even married them, because he was inspired to come up with Conversational Maxims – or Rules of Conversation. Four of them. With sub-clauses. These aren’t really rules, more observations on how people (normal people, that is) co-operate in conversation.

Take last night for example, when I collected my youngest from a party. When the mother said, “How are you?” the expected response was, “I’m fine thanks,” and not, “Oh, since you ask, I’m shattered because I’ve been working so hard. There just aren’t enough hours in the day. I feel like crap, and look even worse! I’m working on my PhD, marking stacks of essays, coaching gymnastics, etc., etc., etc.” As the poor woman backed away into the corner, I realised I had broken the Maxim of Quantity, which states, “Do not make your contribution to the conversation more informative than necessary.”

Then her husband made the dreadful mistake of asking me, “How is it going?” The correct response to this question is, “Fine thanks,” because really, in hindsight, he wasn’t asking me about the PhD that is so prevalent in my thoughts at the moment. But, oh no! Off launched I into the finer points of fragmented identities and cultural hybridity, the complexities of the composite novel and the emergent tradition of the American Short Story Cycle…” thus breaking the Maxim of Relevance which states, “Say things related to the current topic of the conversation.” I also broke the rules of Manner in being totally obscure, ambiguous, and disorderly. I blame lack of sleep for the last two. The poor man just stared at me, nodding politely, before he found a random child to assist with birthday cake.

You’d think I’d just collect my child at this point, bow my head in shame, and leave, but Katy is still looking for her shoes, and so the wife is still making polite conversation. “So is Nigel okay then?” “Oh yeah,” I replied, “He’s fine.” I should have stopped there but found myself explaining that we had to put the rabbit to sleep this week, and Toucheé (the horse I ride on my lessons) was totally spooked last week so that was an experience, and, and, and…” Oh dear. Thankfully the child arrived with shoes in hand and saved me any further conversational faux pas (how do you make faux pas plural?!).

So you see, I am crap. Better not to ask, “How are you?” because I will actually tell you, being socially inept as I am. At least I can swear, hand on heart, that I never knowingly break the Maxims of Quality, so I will always tell the truth, and will never say things for which I lack sufficient evidence. Well, it’s something, I suppose!