kottke.org posts about language
Writer Joel Stickley keeps a blog about how best to write badly. Here’s a snippet from a recent entry titled “Describe every character in minute detail, taking no account of narrative pacing”:
Terrence Handley shifted his weight, the weight that had been steadily increasing for the last ten years and showed no sign of diminishing, at least while his wife Marie continued to excel as she did at the design and production of delectable gourmet meat pies, and shuffled his feet restively as he waited.
Over the centuries, vulgar words like fuck and cunt have been included dictionaries, then cast out, then in again, then out, in, out, and so on.
One major problem dictionary editors face in defining sexual terms is deciding how explicit to be. Defining coitus as “an act of sexual intercourse” but leaving sexual intercourse undefined, for example (on the grounds that a reader could figure it out from the definitions of sexual and intercourse), would be a problem, not only because it makes the reader do too much page-flipping but also because the definitions probably still won’t be sufficiently clear.
The rest of the article, by Jesse Sheidlower, the editor-at-large of the Oxford English Dictionary, is deliciously vulgar and informative so be wary if you’re easily offended and don’t like information.
Hyperforeignism is the mispronunciation of words borrowed from foreign languages…but it’s actually a sort of an over-pronunciation, so correct that it’s circled back around to incorrect again.
The noun octopus is often made plural in English as octopi, originally from the mistaken belief that all Latin nouns ending in -us take -i to form their plural. However, this is only correct for Latin masculine nouns of the second declension. For Latin fourth-declension nouns, such as manus, the singular and plural forms both end in -us. For third declension nouns such as octopus, the plural is less regular. The noun octopus in Latin is a third-declension noun borrowed from the Greek. Although octopuses is generally considered correct in modern English, its plural in Latin is actually octopodes.
An easier example of this is prix fixe. The common mispronunciation is something like “pricks ficks” but the hyperforeign version is “pree fee”, which is how one might presume the French would pronounce it. The correct pronunciation is actually “pree ficks”. See also gyros. (via clusterflock)
A few weeks ago, Matt Linderman asked the readers of 37signals’ Signal vs. Noise blog for suggestions for a word or phrase to describe a certain type of small, focused company.
Sometimes I’m looking for a word to describe a certain kind of company. One that’s small and cares about quality and is trying to do something great for a few customers instead of trying to mass produce crap in order to maximize profit. A company like Coudal Partners or Zingerman’s.
Boutique was deemed too pretentious…small, indie, and QOQ didn’t cut it either. Readers offered up craftsman, artisan, bespoke, cloudless, studio, atelier, long tail, agile, bonsai company, mom and pop, small scale, specialty, anatomic, big heart, GTD business, dojo, haus, temple, coterie, and disco business, but none of those seems quite right.
I’ve had this question rolling around in the back of my mind since Matt posted it and this morning, a potential answer came to me: small batch. As in: “37signals is a small batch business.” The term is most commonly applied to bourbon whiskey:
A small batch bourbon is made for the true connoisseur, every sip a testament to the work and love that has gone into each handcrafted bottle.
but can also be used to describe small quantities of high quality products such as other spirits, baked goods, coffee, beer, and wine. When starting a small company that makes high quality web sites (Wikirank) and apps (Typekit), some friends of mine in San Francisco even picked the phrase for their company’s name: Small Batch, Inc.
Boggle + Tetris/Snood = Must Pop Words. This is difficult for poor typists like me. (via vsl)
Culled from Twitter, a list of collective nouns that may or may not be in the dictionary. Some favorites:
a conspiracy of theorists
an array of geeks
a melancholy of goths (more here)
a pratfall of clowns
an argument of lawyers
a tantrum of 2 year olds
a fondling of vicars
a meta of collective nouns
Update: And I’d completely forgotten about the perfection of a fixie of hipsters.
Update: An Exaltation of Larks is a book chock full of collective nouns written by James Lipton (yes, that James Lipton). (thx, david)
Regarding the previous post on Twitter and the telegraph, eagle-eyed kottke.org reader Mark spotted this gem on page 401 of the telegraphic code book:
I heard that “tunnel is in ore” was @jack’s first name for the service; that it was shortened to Twitter makes a lot of sense now. (thx, mark)
Ben Schott on the similarities between the telegraph and Twitter:
The 140-character limit of Twitter posts was guided by the 160-character limit established by the developers of SMS. However, there is nothing new about new technology imposing restrictions on articulation. During the late 19th-century telegraphy boom, some carriers charged extra for words longer than 15 characters and for messages longer than 10 words. Thus, the cheapest telegram was often limited to 150 characters.
Schott also shares about 100 words from The Anglo-American Telegraphic Code, a code book that reduced long phrases into single words in order to cut down on telegraphic transmission costs. The full book is available for reading on Google and it includes over 27,000 code words on 460 pages!
The folks at Oxford University Press have finally finished their Historical Thesaurus of The Oxford English Dictionary after more than 40 years of effort. The book contains 4448 pages and nearly every word in the English language (according to the OED). I like that the synonyms are listed chronologically but this thing is crying out to be put online (or in some electronic format)…what a boon it would be for period novelists to able to press the “write like they did in 1856” button. Available for pre-order at Amazon for $316. (via long now)
Update: There will be an online version of the thesaurus…at some point.
Those spinning meat cylinders and the sandwiches that emerge from them…where did they come from? From something like this factory in Chicago.
The process starts with boxes of raw beef and lamb trimmings, and ends with what looks like oversized Popsicles the shade of a Band-Aid. In between, the meat is run through a four-ton grinder, where bread crumbs, water, oregano and other seasonings are added. A clumpy paste emerges and is squeezed into a machine that checks for metal and bone. (“You can never be too careful,” Mr. Tomaras said.) Hydraulic pressure — 60 pounds per square inch — is used to fuse the meat into cylinders, which are stacked on trays and then rolled into a flash freezer, where the temperature is 20 degrees below zero.
But forget how they’re made…how do you pronounce the damn word? The article gives what I would guess is the proper pronounciation of gyro: YEE-ro. I’ve ordered gyros using this pronounciation and have sometimes gotten confused looks in return. Alternate pronounciations that have worked in various situations include YUR-o, GEE-ro, JI-ro, and GUY-ro. The last pronounciation somehow seems the least correct to me but yields the best results. Somehow tzatziki is a lot easier.
Using a link to his Twitter account from his blog, Dustin Curtis tested the effect of language on clickthrough rates.
Making the phrase more direct and personal by adding the words “you should” increased the clickthrough rate by 38% to 10.09%.
Curtis started out with “I’m on twitter” and eventually increased the clickthrough rate by more than double by changing the wording to “You should follow me on Twitter here.” (And Jesus, gorgeous site design too.)
New father Paul Drielsma thinks that the language around fatherhood needs to change.
Scour the parenting forums on the Internet and you’ll find the common lament that “DH” (darling husband) expects a medal whenever he “babysits” junior for a few hours. I have little sympathy for DH in these cases, but maybe a step in the right direction would be to stop using language that suggests hired help — to stop referring to DH’s job in the same terms as somebody who could legitimately stick his hand out at the end of his shift and demand a tip. DH isn’t babysitting, he’s parenting, and just changing that one word changes, for me at least, all sorts of connotations.
Lera Boroditsky shares some recent studies which show that language shapes the way we think.
How does an artist decide whether death, say, or time should be painted as a man or a woman? It turns out that in 85 percent of such personifications, whether a male or female figure is chosen is predicted by the grammatical gender of the word in the artist’s native language. So, for example, German painters are more likely to paint death as a man, whereas Russian painters are more likely to paint death as a woman.
One of my favorite examples of this is something that Meg told me about years ago. In English, you might say something like, “I lost the keys” whereas in Spanish you could use a reflexive verb and say something more like “the keys lost themselves”. Her guess was that difference makes Spanish speakers somewhat less likely to take responsibility for their actions…e.g. I didn’t knock that vase over, it knocked itself over. (thx, david)
Update: Boy, the old inbox is humming on this one. People, including several linguists wrote in objecting to two main points. First, some said that it is far from certain that the research shows that language shapes thought; a couple people even went so far as to say that what Boroditsky wrote was just plain wrong. So there’s certainly some debate there.
The second batch of posts took issue with what my wife Meg said about Spanish speakers. Let me try to clarify and explain what she was getting at without sounding like I’m a racist who thinks the Spanish and Mexicans are irresponsible klutzes (which I don’t, if it wasn’t COMPLETELY FUCKING OBVIOUS from the subject and tone of everything else I’ve ever written on this site, but thanks for going there anyway). Instead of what I wrote above, let’s try this instead:
In my wife’s experience as a fluent speaker of Mexican Spanish and who lived in Mexico for a year, she observed that when people misplaced their keys (and this is just one of many possible examples), they are far more likely to say something like “the keys lost themselves” than “I lost the keys” whereas in American English, you would never say “the keys lost themselves”. In fact, she says that this sort of formulation is one of the quick ways to tell who speaks Mexican Spanish as a native and who doesn’t. A reader says this is called the accidental se (scroll to the bottom). So with Spanish, there’s a sense that these inanimate objects have some say in their actions, that they are “alive” and the speaker is in fact the victim. Those michevious keys lost themselves and now I’m late for work, that crazy glass tipped itself over and now I need to clean it up, etc.
In English, you could certainly say “the keys are lost” when deflecting responsibility for their loss (something everyone does, regardless of race or culture or language) but that’s clearly not the same as the keys losing themselves…that’s the real difference. I’ll let Boroditsky explain what effects this difference might have on how Spanish speakers think, if any, lest I get any more angry emails. (thx, everyone, esp. kyle)
Are these the 100 most beautiful words in the English language?
Arika Okrent wrote a book on invented languages so University of Chicago Magazine asked her to share her ten favorite made-up words.
lxmsgevjltshevjlpshev: “179 degrees 59 minutes and 59 seconds of west longitude within one second of reaching 180 degrees west” Now that’s a word!
Schott’s Vocab is holding a Tom Swifty competition this weekend.
“Who discovered radium?” asked Marie curiously.
“Just parsley, sage and rosemary,” said Tom timelessly.
“Show no mercy killing the vampire,” said Tom painstakingly.
“It keeps my hair in place,” said Alice with abandon.
There are already over 1000 comments.
Goodminton “is badminton where the object is to keep the birdie in play as long as possible”.
Infrastructurist has posted a nice two-part Field Guide to Freeway Interchanges: part one and part two. Meet The Double Trumpet, The Braided Cloverleaf, and The Spaghetti Bowl. This little fellow is The Whirlpool.
The pace of baseball is such that one wonders about all the baseball players whose last names are adjectives.
Woody Rich, Pop Rising. Harry Sage. Several Savages. Mac Scarce. Bill Sharp. Bill, Chris, Dave, and Rick Short. Many Smalls. One Smart guy (JD). Three Starks. Adam Stern. Of course, there’s Doug Strange (and Alan and Pat, too). Jamal and Joe Strong. Even a guy named Sturdy, literally: Guy Sturdy. DIck Such. Bill Swift, x2.
Update: See also musicians whose names are sentences. (thx, colter)
While listing his ten favorite fragrances, NY Times perfume critic Chandler Burr recalls Luca Turin’s definition of chic.
Luca once called something chic, and I asked him why, or rather what “chic” was exactly. He sighed and said despairingly, “Chic is the most impossible thing to define.” He thought about it. “Luxury is a humorless thing, largely. Chic is all about humor. Which means chic is about intelligence. And there has to be oddness — most luxury is conformist, and chic cannot be. Chic must be polite, but within that it can be as weird as it wants.”
(via gold digger)
Nine words that came to us from science fiction and not science.
Deep space. One of the other defining features of outer space is its essential emptiness. In science fiction, this phrase most commonly refers to a region of empty space between stars or that is remote from the home world. E. E. “Doc” Smith seems to have coined this phrase in 1934. The more common use in the sciences refers to the region of space outside of the Earth’s atmosphere.
In 1704, playright John Dennis invented a new method of producing the sound of thunder during a play. Dennis’ play was unsuccessful, but his thunder technique was soon borrowed by another production, leading Dennis to exclaim:
Damn them! They will not let my play run, but they steal my thunder.
From Schott’s Vocab: A Miscellany of Modern Words and Phrases:
Elephant Flyovers - Elevated crossings designed to protect Indian elephants from road and rail accidents.
While you’re there, be sure to check out Schott’s entries for Daggering and Fire Fatigue. Actually, they’re all fantastic.
Retronovation n. The conscious process of mining the past to produce methods, ideas, or products which seem novel to the modern mind. Some recent examples include Pepsi Throwback’s use of real sugar, Pepsi Natural’s glass bottle, and General Mills’ introduction of old packaging for some of their cereals. In general, the local & natural food and farming thing that’s big right now is all about retronovation…time tested methods that have been reintroduced to make food that is closer to what people used to eat. (I’m sure there are non-food examples as well, but I can’t think of any.)
Liz Danzico turned a malapropism into a useful word. Mentornship, n.
Internship for the bright or advanced individual under guidance of a more senior practitioner. No making copies or coffee.
I love this idea, although I’ve never been a believer in interns fetching coffee or doing the shopping at Staples. The bright-but-junior person sees obvious educational benefits from the arrangement but so does the senior practitioner; they get high quality work and access to a sharp beginner’s mind. With the right people, the mentornship would likely morph into a collaboration before too long.
Update: Mentornship technically isn’t a malapropism, it’s a portmanteau word. (thx, dave)
When confronted with an incomprehensible language, an English speaker might say “it’s all Greek to me” while a French or Finnish speaker might say that it sounds like Hebrew. Here’s a flowchart that illustrates the different incomprehensibility relationships (discussion here). The most stereotypical incomprehensible language appears to be Chinese. (via strange maps)
A Continuous Lean found some great Life magazine photos of Sherman Billingsley, the owner of a famous NYC nightclub called The Stork Club, which club was frequented by celebrities, artists, and the well-to-do from 1929 to 1965. In the photos, Billingsley is pictured at his club giving secret hand signals to his assistant while sitting with guests.
Closeup of Stork Club owner Sherman Billingsley [with his] palm up on table, one of his signals to nearby assistant which means “Bring a bottle of champagne,” while sitting w. patrons over his usual Coca Cola, in the Cub Room.
Billingsley’s signals cleverly allowed the club to provide seamless good service to his favored patrons while also letting him be the bad guy with less favorable customers without them knowing it. Billingsley went on to be the third base coach for the Yankees in the late 60s. (Untrue.)
Of the world’s 7,000 languages, 40 percent are on their way to extinction, with the last fluent speaker of a language dying once every two weeks.
Every two weeks? Wow. That’s from an article in Seed magazine about a PBS show airing tonight called The Linguists.
The Linguists is a hilarious and poignant chronicle of two scientists — David Harrison and Gregory Anderson — racing to document languages on the verge of extinction. In Siberia, India, and Bolivia, the linguists confront head-on the very forces silencing languages: racism, humiliation, and violent economic unrest. David and Greg’s journey takes them deep into the heart of the cultures, knowledge, and communities at risk when a language dies.
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