Word Worries

The best kind of trivia is trivia that has a practical use.  Although that might seem at odds with the whole concept of trivia, it’s more a matter of perspective than anything.  A lot of what we think of as trivia is very useful in its own way to the right audience.  

English is a language that matches the nature of the countries who speak it pretty well.  It’s odd, inconsistent, and seemingly loves to disregard rules.  One of the more common aspects of the language people point to in this regard is spelling.  English spelling controversies are as old as the language itself, and have their own long history of oddities and even violence.  While writers of large stature like Chaucer and Shakespeare had a demonstrable effect on fixing some spellings, it wasn’t until Samuel Johnson’s Dictionary in the middle of the eighteenth century that a “right and wrong” set of spellings began to become commonly understood.  The underlying oddness was still in place though.

The reason why is easy in its basics, but complex in its finer points.  English has a foundation of Germanic languages that contribute a lot of its core sounds and words.  If you think of a basic human activity that has existed since time immemorial, chances are that the modern word for it in English derives from a root Germanic language.  “Drink,” “sleep,” “eat,” “fight,” and even “dream” all come from the same language spoken in Beowulf, for instance.  And of course, I just described the plot of Beowulf; if you haven’t read it, I’m sorry for the spoilers.  

Trivia would tell you that in 1066 King Harold II’s England was invaded by the William the Conqueror from Normandy, and the Normans occupied the country.  The Normans spoke a version of Old French, which was admixed with Old English into what eventually became known as Middle English.  French and German have different sounds, different rules of grammar, and different cultural reference points, which is partly responsible for the idiosyncrasy in English.  The fact that the Normans were a formerly foreign conqueror which brought a certain amount of wealth and luxury to England is also why many of the words for upscale concepts and ideas—particularly in art, finance, and government—are French rather than German.

But those aren’t the only additives.  Latin was something of a lingua franca (shared language) around Europe, and many works of Greek and Arabic philosophy were translated into Latin as a stepping stone before they made their way fully into “the vernacular” (or local language).  As a result of the fact that Latin was used between the monks who were translating the works of Aristotle, Plato, Archimedes, Seneca, Copernicus, and so on, it also became the language of science and the law.  And that all happened by the fourteenth century.  As time rolled on, the spelling nightmares persisted.   

You may be familiar with the famous example word “Ghoti”.  If you haven’t seen this before, think of all the English spelling rules you know and give it a guess.  What is the strangest thing you could spell this way in English, based on established rules?  Look at the word “ghoti” minutely, and take a guess.

If you guessed “fish,” than you have an uncanny sense of English spelling weirdness.  Or possibly you’ve seen a reference to the letter from Charles Ollier to Leigh Hunt, both of whom were well-known in the poetry circles of the Romantic era and later, in 1855.  In the letter, Ollier explains that his son had come up with this way to spell “fish” based on the terminal “gh” in “enough,” the “o” in “women,” and the “ti” in “nation.”  While clearly meant as a joke in the letter, it was taken up as a serious cause by many in the “Spelling Reform” movement of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.  People as different as Mark Twain, George Bernard Shaw, Isaac Asimov, Melvil Dewey (of the system), and Teddy Roosevelt all did their best to effect some regularity to our spelling.

Did they ever solve the problem?  Well, no.  Unlike some other languages, English doesn’t have an academy to enforce things like spelling.  Like the country itself, I suppose you have to just embrace the oddness at this point, unless someone is planning to pass a law on the spelling of “February” or “poignant.”

Word of the Week:

This week, I’m presenting the word “minutely” along with the word “momentarily.”  I find I have a hard time wrapping my head around these terms as they mean something not quite opposite themselves.  What I mean is, a “contranym” is a word that means its own opposite.  “Sanction” can mean to “approve” as well as to “disapprove,” for instance.  But “momentarily” can mean “for a moment” as well as “in a moment.”  They’re not really opposites—more meanings at right angles with each other.

In a similar but even more complex fashion, “minutely” can mean “by the minute” as well as “in a minute” AND “in fine detail.”  That last meaning is actually the oldest meaning, because it reflects the meaning of the Latin root “minitus,” which means “small.”  The word “minute” to refer to time is a later application of the general Latin word to a specific application once keeping time in increments as brief as minutes, and of course “seconds” became necessary.  Trivial, but it’s a good snapshot of how words tend to change what they refer to in English, which is always good to remember before you email the kids or grandkids!