The whole grammar

Chinese is written in characters that do not say how they sound, and spoken in syllables whose pitch is part of the word. This area starts with pinyin, the Latin spelling of Mandarin that stands under every word on this site, then the tones and the few places where they change, and then the characters themselves: what one is, how characters make words, and how a Chinese sentence is punctuated. 妈(mā) and 马(mǎ) differ only in their tone — and that is the first thing to learn to hear.

A Chinese sentence has no endings to change: the verb is the same for every person and every time, and the order of the words carries the grammar. This area builds the basic sentence — subject, time, place, verb, object — and then the pieces every beginner needs at once: 是(shì) between two nouns, adjectives that need no “is”, 有(yǒu) for having and existing, the two negatives 不(bù) and 没(méi), and the ways of asking a question.

A Chinese noun never changes: 书(shū) is “book” and “books”, and nothing on the noun says which. What English puts on the noun, Chinese puts in front of it — a number, and between the number and the noun a measure word that says what kind of thing is being counted: 三(sān)本(běn)书(shū), three books. The numbers themselves are the most regular part of the language: learn one to ten and four words for the big places, and every other number follows.

In English a description can come before a noun (a red car) or after it (the car I bought, the man in the hat). In Chinese it always comes before, however long it is, and the particle 的(de) stands between the description and the noun: 我(wǒ)的(de)书(shū), 很(hěn)贵(guì)的(de)衣服(yīfu), 我(wǒ)昨天(zuótiān)买(mǎi)的(de)书(shū). Learn where 的(de) goes and where it is left out, and even the longest Chinese noun phrases become readable.

Chinese adjectives never change their form — there is no “-er” and no “-est” — so a comparison is built from words placed around the adjective. The workhorse is 比(bǐ): 我(wǒ)比(bǐ)他(tā)高(gāo), literally “I, compared with him, tall”. Around it stand the patterns for “not as … as”, “the same as”, “more and more” and “most”, and one rule runs through almost all of them: the 很(hěn) that links an adjective in a plain sentence disappears as soon as something else says how much.

English usually says what happens first and adds when and where at the end. Chinese does it the other way round: time first, then place, then the action — 我(wǒ)明天(míngtiān)在(zài)家(jiā)休息(xiūxi), “I am resting at home tomorrow”. Only one kind of time phrase breaks the rule: a length of time, which follows the verb. This area covers the time words, the small words of place — 在(zài), 里(lǐ), 上(shàng), 从(cóng), 到(dào), 离(lí), 往(wǎng) — and the clauses that work like time words.

English cannot use a verb without saying when: “I eat”, “I ate”, “I will eat”. A Chinese verb never changes, and the time is said by time words such as 昨天(zuótiān) or 明天(míngtiān). What the grammar marks instead is how an action is seen: as a finished whole (了(le)), as something that has happened at least once (过(guo)), as going on (在(zài)), or as a state that lasts (着(zhe)). This is called aspect, and the single most useful thing to know about it is that 了(le) is not a past tense.

English “can” does three jobs, and Chinese gives each its own word: 会(huì) for a skill you have learned, 能(néng) for being able, 可以(kěyǐ) for being allowed. Modal verbs stand before the main verb, never change their form, take 不(bù) for the negative and can be the short answer to a question. The trickiest part for English speakers is the negatives: “don’t want to” is not 不要(búyào), and “don’t have to” is not the negative of “have to”.

English often needs two verbs, or a verb and a particle, where Chinese uses one verb and a word attached straight after it: “look” and “see” are 看(kàn) and 看见(kànjiàn), “run out” is 跑(pǎo)出去(chuqu). This slot after the verb — the complement — says what the action achieved, which way it went, how well it was done, whether it can be done at all, and how long or how often it happened. It has less of an equivalent in English than any other part of Chinese grammar, and it is where a sentence that looks complete to an English speaker sounds unfinished to a Chinese one. A one-syllable verb and a one-syllable complement are written as one word in the pinyin here (kànwán, nálai), the way pinyin spelling joins them; longer ones stand apart.

A plain Chinese sentence runs subject, verb, object, much as English does. This area is about the patterns that move the parts around to say something more: 把(bǎ) brings the object forward to say what became of it, 被(bèi) turns the sentence round to say what happened to somebody, 连(lián) … 都(dōu) picks out the most extreme case, and a place at the head of a sentence announces that something new is there. None of them has an ending or a change of verb form; all of the work is done by order and by a few small words.

A Chinese verb never changes, so a great deal of what English says with endings, auxiliaries and intonation is said by a handful of adverbs placed directly before the verb. 也(yě) and 都(dōu) add and sum up, 又(yòu) and 再(zài) divide “again” into past and future, and 就(jiù) and 才(cái) tell the listener whether something happened sooner or later than expected. Higher up, adverbs such as 其实(qíshí) and 偏偏(piānpiān) carry the speaker’s attitude. Most of them share one rule that English does not have: they stand after the subject and before the verb, and cannot drift to the end of the sentence.

English links two clauses with a single word: “because”, “although”, “if”. Chinese usually marks both halves — one word opens the first clause and a second one, often a small adverb such as 就(jiù), 也(yě) or 才(cái), answers it in the second: 虽然(suīrán)很(hěn)贵(guì)，但是(dànshì)很(hěn)好(hǎo), “although it is expensive, (but) it is good”. The second word is not decoration: it tells the listener how the two halves relate, and choosing it is most of the grammar in this area. Watch where each word stands — conjunctions open their clause, but adverbs such as 就(jiù) and 也(yě) always follow the subject.

English shows its attitude with the voice and with little tags — “let’s”, “isn’t it?”, “come on”, “that’s all”. Chinese cannot bend the pitch of a word freely, because pitch is already the tone of the word. The job goes to particles at the end of the sentence: 吧(ba) suggests or guesses, 啊(a) adds warmth, 呢(ne) asks “and what about” or points something out, 嘛(ma) insists that something is obvious. They are short, unstressed and in the neutral tone, and they decide whether the same words sound like a request or an order.

Chinese has no special verb forms for politeness: the verb in 您(nín)去(qù) is the same as in 你(nǐ)去(qù). Politeness lives in a handful of words and in habits — 您(nín) for “you”, a title after the family name, 请(qǐng) and a softened question for a request, a compliment turned aside rather than accepted, and in formal writing a small set of words that raise the other side and lower your own. Learning these is less about grammar than about knowing which word a situation expects.

From level 4 on, Chinese sentences start to carry frames: a few words that open the sentence and say from which point of view, on what basis, under which conditions or for what purpose the rest is true. English does the same job with phrases such as “as far as I am concerned” or “according to the forecast”, but English tends to add them at the end, while Chinese puts them first: 对(duì)我(wǒ)来说(láishuō)，这(zhè)个(ge)太(tài)难(nán)了(le). Most of these frames are a little more formal than everyday speech, and they are what makes a learner’s Chinese sound grown-up.

At level 5 the grammar is mostly in place, and what is left is the language of argument: words that raise the stakes (甚至(shènzhì), 何况(hékuàng)), soften a claim (未必(wèibì)), turn an expectation upside down (反而(fǎn'ér), 竟然(jìngrán)), plan for the worst (万一(wànyī), 免得(miǎnde)), ask a question that already holds its answer (难道(nándào)) and sum it all up (总之(zǒngzhī)). Most of them are short, and each of them changes how the whole sentence is heard. The area closes with the four-character expressions that educated Chinese is full of.

Written Chinese keeps a layer of words from the classical language: 之(zhī), 其(qí), 于(yú), 以(yǐ), 将(jiāng), 已(yǐ), 所(suǒ). They are everywhere on signs, in announcements, in the news and in anything written with care, and one character often does the work of a two-character spoken word. The grammar underneath is the same as in speech; what changes is the vocabulary, and recognising these words matters long before a learner needs to use them.