Quite a number of adjectives can be created by adding the suffix -ive to a noun (combat / combative, secret / secretive) or a verb (digest / digestive, impress / impressive). A smaller set of adjectives can be created by adding -ive to what is already an adjective, creating another adjective with a distinct meaning.
Unfortunately, some writers take it one suffix too far. As editors, we need to be on the lookout for these confusable pairs to make sure the text reads as it should.
Correct and corrective
Few people are likely to confuse these two words, but it’s not impossible. A weak writer who is trying to sound more intelligent might latch on to corrective (or, really, any of these -ive words) and just go to town. Those types of writers need a good talking to.
Correct, of course, describes something that is accurate or right. Corrective describes a thing or action whose purpose is to make something accurate or right, or at least closer to it. Corrective lenses might not give you 20/20 vision, but it will keep you from running into walls.
Notice that something that is correct will not need something that is corrective.
Definite and definitive
These two are confused more often than the previous pair. Something is definite if it is unambiguous, exact, or undeniable. Your average editors have definite views on, say, whether to use “couldn’t care less” or “could care less” because they know exactly which one they believe is correct.
Something is definitive if it is authoritative and serves as a final solution to a problem. People like H.W. Fowler and Bryan Garner attempted to provide a definitive answer to the could versus couldn’t care less debate, but the average English speaker just didn’t pay attention.
Distinct and distinctive
Something that is distinct is well-defined and discrete. The Amish, for example, are a distinct, defined group that are easily separated (in the mind) from other groups.
Something is distinctive if it serves to distinguish or set apart. Amish people are distinguishable in public by their distinctive clothing (black, white, or gray; no zippers or snaps), transportation (horse-drawn), and facial hair (among the men).
Intense and intensive
I’ve seen these words confused numerous times, inevitably with intensive standing in where intense ought to be.
Something is intense if it involves a higher-than-normal degree of concentration, energy, or earnestness. You might have, for example, an intense workout, an intense game of chess, or an intense discussion about the future of your marriage.
Intensive has a number of uses in grammar, philosophy, and science, and should more or less be left there. But it can’t always be avoided. A common use of intensive is to describe something that attempts to increase the desired output or effect without widening its scope — in products, this can mean the same as concentrated. An intensive moisturizer, for example, should theoretically allow you a higher level of skin hydration without using more lotion.
Bryan Garner points out in Garner’s Modern American Usage, Third Edition, that the line between intense and intensive has been blurred, if not obliterated. On his five-stage language-change index, he places “intensive used for intense” at Stage 4: “virtually universal but…opposed on cogent grounds by a few linguistic stalwarts (die-hard snoots).”
Call me a snoot, but I’m not ready to give up on these two yet. After all, the words can be used independently of one another. A thing can be intense without being intensive — like Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club. And a thing can be intensive without being intense — like Chuck Palahniuk’s hand lotion.
This article was originally posted on the Copyediting website, Aug. 3, 2016.
