In 1919, the same year El Lissitsky and Alexander Rodchenko founded the Constructivist movement and Walter Gropius opened the door of the Bauhaus, an obscure English professor at Cornell University, William Strunk Jr., gave his students a slim, self-published volume titled The Elements of Style. The manual was, in his view, a modest attempt to sum up some of the most glaring mistakes and stylistic faux-pas commonly found in the compositions of his undergraduate pupils.

For those dogged utopians who, like me, still believe that less is more, the humble grammar guidebook turned out to be just as much of a modernist touchtone as the Bauhaus manifesto or Lissitsky’s famous minimalist compositions. Beginning with a stern “Omit needless words!” Strunk spelled out principles that not only fostered clarity of mind but also translated in simple, brief and bold terms the spirit of a new era.

“Why say ‘utilize’ when there is the simple and unpretentious word ‘use’?”

“Statements qualified with unnecessary auxiliaries or conditionals sound irresolute.”

“The surest way to arouse and hold the reader’s attention is by being specific, definite and concrete.”

Arguing that prose is made more vivid when the writer evokes precise images and sensations instead of vague abstractions, Strunk treated sentences the way a typographer treats letterforms: with evident sympathy for the readers. One feels that he was as much of a designer as he was a wordsmith. As far as he was concerned, putting down signs on the page was an activity requiring a love of pure forms.

The original version of The Elements of Style would have been forgotten if one of Strunk’s former students, the American novelist E. B. White, had not been asked to update and revise the booklet in 1957, 13 years after its author had died. A longtime contributor to The New Yorker, White was already known as the author of two classic children books, Stuart Little and Charlotte’s Web. His revised and augmented version of The Elements of Style was an instant success. Since, more than ten million copies have been sold.

Whether the book did improve the writing style of generations of American and English literature students is arguable. What is sure is that it offers some of the best advice for graphic designers, art directors, creative types—for people whose job is to impart information in a visual manner. In a recent re-edition of the book, in the chapter on “misused words and expressions,” White added a couple of entries. Among them is the verb “personalize.”

“It’s a pretentious word, often carrying bad advice,” he wrote. “Do not personalize your prose; simply make it good and keep it clean.” And as an example he suggested replacing “Personalize your stationery” with a more straightforward “Design a letterhead.”

I’d say: just eliminate the marketing jargon that is now a mainstay of a designer’s vocabulary. Good Design is Good English.