We can begin with this beginning. Unimpeachable observation, at first glance. Of course you’d think he was being paid by the word—that’s the only hypothesis that can excuse the number of featherbedders in this statement. “The feeling of love”? “is one that is”? Why not “everyone has felt love” or “everyone has been in love”? We also have to query, if not fully question, the implication that “love” is a single and clearly defined “feeling,” a universal experience…and the possible further implication that everyone shares this feeling with everyone else. So maybe the statement isn’t that unimpeachable after all. And maybe there’s worse to come?
“The feeling of love is one that is shared by everyone at some point of their lives, which may lead to frustration and anger.”
Huh? Well, the “at some point of their lives” does suggest that everybody isn’t feeling love for everybody else all the time, so that’s a help. I WILL object to “their” (plural pronoun to refer to the singular pronoun “everyone”= number-agreement error!), although I know this is a hopeless crusade of mine. But, typing with appropriately clenched fists, I will say that generally the sentence up to the comma is clear enough.
But then comes the adjective clause. Adjectives must either abut their nouns/pronouns or sit on the other side of a verb of being from them. So, what noun does “which” abut? “Some point of their lives”? If the adjective clause modified that, first of all it wouldn’t use a comma because it was limiting or specifying the point at which everyone shares the feeling of love: at a point that might lead to frustration. Surely my student didn’t mean to assert that love comes only at bad or dangerous moments.
We might consider the “which” clause as a modifier for a concept previously expressed albeit not in noun form, a structural maneuver routinely acceptable in colloquial speech or writing. Does my student mean, then, that the fact that everyone shares the feeling of love may lead to frustration or anger? I suppose it very well might, for a person who has not yet shared the feeling and fears he or she never will—or someone who has just been unceremoniously dumped by the object of his or her affection. I have to confess that I, even I, have been unceremoniously so dumped, and have considered writing poison-pen letters to everyone in that day’s newspaper’s “Engagements” section. Or perhaps he’s suggesting that the “at some point” is frustrating or angering—love coming only once, or love being so fleeting, or the arrival of love being so unpredictable.
Or maybe he’s just against love, the “which” referring to that first noun phrase, “the feeling of love.” Sooner or later he’s going to experience that infuriating feeling of love, dammit!
I may be the only person on earth (aside from my student) who knew what he meant. He meant to include an adjective after “of” and before “love.” But didn’t. The sentence wasn’t the first one in his essay, and maybe by then he had grown tired of typing the adjective, or felt safe in assuming that the reader no longer needed to have it spelled out. I knew what word was missing because I knew what the topic of his paper was: unrequited love. See how that one little addition fills the whole sentence with a logic or reasonableness that had been completely missing before?
Couldn’t such a wordy sentence have been persuaded to make room for just one more? Or if not, couldn’t he have sacrificed “is one that,” making ample space with some left over?
He might also have availed himself of my universal draft-reading recommendation: Ask someone else to read your draft, and choose someone who respects you but isn’t blinded to your imperfections by love. (That policy excludes mothers, fathers, grandmothers, uncles, dogs, sweethearts, and adoring siblings…) As long as he wasn’t at that moment sharing the feeling of love with everyone, he should have been able to find somebody…if he had thought to look.