i love english language

How Americans Have Reshaped Language

Posted in Uncategorized by aggslanguage on January 22, 2012
By JOHN McWHORTER
Published: January 20, 2012

 

There has always been disagreement on these American shores as to just what the “best” English is. The status of Parisian French or Tuscan Italian has long been unassailable. Yet in the early 1940s, fusty Chicagoans were writing to The Chicago Tribune declaring Midwestern speech America’s “purest,” while New York radio announcers were speaking in plummy Londonesque, complete with rolled r’s. Down in Charleston, S.C., the elite’s sense of the best English involved peculiar archaisms like “cam” for “calm” and “gyardin” for “garden.”

 

SPEAKING AMERICAN

A History of English in the United States

By Richard W. Bailey

207 pp. Oxford University Press. $27.95.

In “Speaking American,” a history of American English, Richard W. Bailey argues that geography is largely behind our fluid evaluations of what constitutes “proper” English. Early Americans were often moving westward, and the East Coast, unlike European cities, birthed no dominant urban standard. The story of American English is one of eternal rises and falls in reputation, and Bailey, the author of several books on English, traces our assorted ways of speaking across the country, concentrating on a different area for each 50-year period, starting in Chesapeake Bay and ending in Los Angeles.

We are struck by the oddness of speech in earlier America. A Bostonian visiting Philadelphia in 1818 noted that his burgherly hostess casually pronounced “dictionary” as “disconary” and “again” as “agin.” William Cullen Bryant of Massachusetts, visiting New York City around 1820, wrote not about the “New Yawkese” we would expect, but about locutions, now vanished, like “sich” for “such” and “guv” for “gave.” Even some aspects of older writing might throw us. Perusing The Chicago Tribune of the 1930s, we would surely marvel at spellings like “crum,” “heven” and “iland,” which the paper included in its house style in the ultimately futile hope of streamlining English’s spelling system.

A challenge for a book like Bailey’s, however, is the sparseness of evidence on earlier forms of American English. The human voice was unrecorded before the late 19th century, and until the late 20th recordings of casual speech, especially of ordinary people, were rare. Meanwhile, written evidence of local, as opposed to standard, language has tended to be cursory and of shaky accuracy.

For example, the story of New York speech, despite the rich documentation of the city over all, is frustratingly dim. On the one hand, an 1853 observer identified New York’s English as “purer” than that found in most other places. Yet at the same time chronicles of street life were describing a jolly vernacular that has given us words like “bus,” “tramp” and “whiff.” Perhaps that 1853 observer was referring only to the speech of the better-­off. But then just 16 years later, a novel describes a lad of prosperous upbringing as having a “strong New York accent,” while a book of 1856 warning against “grammatical embarrassment” identifies “voiolent” and “afeard” as pronunciations even upwardly mobile New Yorkers were given to. So what was that about “pure”?

Possibly as a way of compensating for the vagaries and skimpiness of the available evidence, Bailey devotes much of his story to the languages English has shared America with. It is indeed surprising how tolerant early Americans were of linguistic diversity. In 1903 one University of Chicago scholar wrote proudly that his city was host to 125,000 speakers of Polish, 100,000 of Swedish, 90,000 of Czech, 50,000 of Norwegian, 35,000 of Dutch, and 20,000 of Danish.

What earlier Americans considered more dangerous to the social fabric than diversity were perceived abuses within English itself. Prosecutable hate speech in 17th-century Massachusetts included calling people “dogs,” “rogues” and even “queens” (though the last referred to prostitution); magistrates took serious umbrage at being labeled “poopes” (“dolts”). Only later did xenophobic attitudes toward other languages come to prevail, sometimes with startling result. In the early years of the 20th century, California laws against fellatio and cunnilingus were vacated on the grounds that since the words were absent from dictionaries, they were not English and thus violations of the requirement that statutes be written in English.

Ultimately, however, issues like this take up too much space in a book supposedly about the development of English itself. Much of the chapter on Philadelphia is about the city’s use of German in the 18th century. It’s interesting to learn that Benjamin Franklin was as irritated about the prevalence of German as many today are about that of Spanish, but the chapter is concerned less with language than straight history — and the history of a language that, after all, isn’t English. In the Chicago chapter, Bailey mentions the dialect literature of Finley Peter Dunne and George Ade but gives us barely a look at what was in it, despite the fact that these were invaluable glimpses of otherwise rarely recorded speech.

Especially unsatisfying is how little we learn about the development of Southern English and its synergistic relationship with black English. Bailey gives a hint of the lay of the land in an impolite but indicative remark about Southern child rearing, made by a British traveler in 1746: “They suffer them too much to prowl amongst the young Negroes, which insensibly causes them to imbibe their Manners and broken Speech.” In fact, Southern English and the old plantation economy overlap almost perfectly: white and black Southerners taught one another how to talk. There is now a literature on the subject, barely described in the book.

On black English, Bailey is also too uncritical of a 1962 survey that documented black Chicagoans as talking like their white neighbors except for scattered vowel differences (as in “pin” for “pen”). People speak differently for interviewers than they do among themselves, and modern linguists have techniques for eliciting people’s casual language that did not exist in 1962. Surely the rich and distinct — and by no means “broken” — English of today’s black people in Chicago did not arise only in the 1970s.

Elsewhere, Bailey ventures peculiar conclusions that may be traceable to his having died last year, before he had the chance to polish his text. (The book’s editors say they have elected to leave untouched some cases of “potential ambiguity.”) If, as Bailey notes, only a handful of New Orleans’s expressions reach beyond Arkansas, then exactly how was it that New Orleans was nationally influential as the place “where the great cleansing of American English took place”?

And was 17th-century America really “unlike almost any other community in the world” because it was “a cluster of various ways of speaking”? This judgment would seem to neglect the dozens of colonized regions worldwide at the time, when legions of new languages and dialects had already developed and were continuing to evolve. Of the many ways America has been unique, the sheer existence of roiling linguistic diversity has not been one of them.

The history of American English has been presented in more detailed and precise fashion elsewhere — by J. L. Dillard, and even, for the 19th century, by Bailey himself, in his under­read ­“Nineteenth-Century English.” Still, his handy tour is useful in imprinting a lesson sadly obscure to too many: as Bailey puts it, “Those who seek stability in English seldom find it; those who wish for uniformity become laughingstocks.”

 

John McWhorter’s latest book is “What Language Is (and What It Isn’t and What It Could Be).”

 

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/22/books/review/speaking-american-a-history-of-english-in-the-united-states-by-richard-w-bailey-book-review.html?_r=1&pagewanted=all

Phoney politeness and muddled messages: a guide to euphemisms

Posted in Uncategorized by aggslanguage on December 18, 2011

Making murder respectable

 

SHORT sharp terms make big points clear. But people often prefer to soften their speech with euphemism: a mixture of abstraction, metaphor, slang and understatement that offers protection against the offensive, harsh or blunt. In 1945, in one of history’s greatest euphemisms, Emperor Hirohito informed his subjects of their country’s unconditional surrender (after two atomic bombs, the loss of 3m people and with invasion looming) with the words, “The war situation has developed not necessarily to Japan’s advantage.”

Euphemisms range promiscuously, from diplomacy (“the minister is indisposed”, meaning he won’t be coming) to the bedroom (a grande horizontale in France is a notable courtesan). But it is possible to attempt a euphemistic taxonomy. One way to categorise them is ethical. In “Politics and the English Language”, George Orwell wrote that obfuscatory political language is designed “to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable”. Some euphemisms do distort and mislead; but some are motivated by kindness.


Another way to typify them is by theme. A third—and a useful way to begin—is by nationality. A euphemism is a kind of lie, and the lies peoples and countries tell themselves are revealing.

American euphemisms are in a class of their own, principally because they seem to involve words that few would find offensive to start with, replaced by phrases that are meaninglessly ambiguous: bathroom tissue for lavatory paper, dental appliances for false teeth, previously owned rather than used, wellness centres for hospitals, which conduct procedures not operations. As the late George Carlin, an American comedian, noted, people used to get old and die. Now they become first preelderly, then senior citizens and pass away in a terminal episode or (if doctors botch their treatment) after a therapeutic misadventure. These bespeak a national yearning for perfection, bodily and otherwise.

Sensitive China, perfidious Albion

Some Chinese euphemisms also stem from squeamishness. Rather than inquire about a patient’s sex life, doctors may ask if you have much time for fang shi (room business). Online sites sell qingqu yongpin, literally “interesting love products”.

But Chinese circumlocution is often a form of polite opacity. Chinese people don’t like being too direct in turning down invitations or (as many journalists find) requests for interviews. So they will frequently reply that something is bu fangbian (not convenient). This does not mean reapply in a few weeks’ time. It means they don’t want to do it, ever. If they don’t want to tell you what is going on they will say vaguely they are bu qingchu: literally “I’m not clear.”

One feature of Chinese euphemisms comes from the tonal nature of the language. Yanis slang for cigarettes; jiu means alcohol. But, with different tones, the two syllables together can also mean “to research”. So a corrupt official being asked to do something might suggest, “Let’s research (yanjiu) this issue together”, by which he would probably mean, “Give me some cigarettes and some alcohol and I’ll make it happen.”

The British are probably the world champions of euphemism. The best of these are widely understood (at least among natives), creating a pleasant sense of complicity between the euphemist and his audience. British newspaper obituaries are a rich seam: nobody likes to speak ill of the dead, yet many enjoy a hint of the truth about the person who has “passed away”. A drunkard will be described as “convivial” or “cheery”. Unbearably garrulous is “sociable” or the dread “ebullient”; “lively wit” means a penchant for telling cruel and unfunny stories. “Austere” and “reserved” mean joyless and depressed. Someone with a foul temper “did not suffer fools gladly”. The priapic will have “enjoyed female company”; nymphomania is “notable vivacity”. Uncontrollable appetites of all sorts may earn the ultimate accolade: “He lived life to the full.”

Such euphemisms are a pleasant echo of an age when private lives enjoyed a degree of protective discretion that now seems unimaginable in Britain. That left room for “a confirmed bachelor” (a homosexual) or someone “burdened by occasional irregularities in his private life” (leaving the reader guessing whether the problem was indecent exposure, adultery or cross-dressing).

Writing about dead people is a question only of taste, because they can’t sue. Describing the living (especially in libel-happy jurisdictions such as England) requires prudence. “Thirsty” applied to a British public figure usually means heavy drinking; “tired and emotional” (a term that has moved from the pages of Private Eye, a satirical magazine, into general parlance) means visibly drunk. “Hands-on mentoring” of a junior colleague can be code for an affair, hopefully not coupled with a “volatile” personality, which means terrifying eruptions of temper. References to “rumbustious” business practices or “controversial”, “murky” and “questionable” conduct usually mean the journalist believes something illegal is going on, but couldn’t stand it up in court if sued.

In the upper reaches of the British establishment, euphemism is a fine art, one that new arrivals need to master quickly. “Other Whitehall agencies” or “our friends over the river” means the intelligence services (American spooks often say they “work for the government”). A civil servant warning a minister that a decision would be “courageous” is saying that it will be career-cripplingly unpopular. “Adventurous” is even worse: it means mad and unworkable. A “frank discussion” is a row, while a “robust exchange of views” is a full-scale shouting match. (These kind of euphemisms are also common in Japanese, where the reply maemuki ni kento sasete itadakimasu—I will examine it in a forward-looking manner—means something on the lines of “This idea is so stupid that I am cross you are even asking me and will certainly ignore it.”)

Euphemism is so ingrained in British speech that foreigners, even those who speak fluent English, may miss the signals contained in such bland remarks as “incidentally” (which means, “I am now telling you the purpose of this discussion”); and “with the greatest respect” (“You are mistaken and silly”). This sort of code allows the speaker to express anger, contempt or outright disagreement without making the emotional investment needed to do so directly. Some find that cowardly.

Boardroom, bathroom, bedroom

A thematic taxonomy of euphemism should have a category devoted to commerce. Business euphemisms are epitomised by the lexicon of property salesmen. A “bijou” residence is tiny (it may also be “charming”, “cosy” or “compact”). A “vibrant” neighbourhood is deafeningly noisy; if it is “up and coming” it is terrifyingly crime-ridden, whereas a “stone’s throw from” means in reach of a powerful catapult. Conversely, “convenient for” means “unpleasantly close to”. “Characterful” means the previous owner was mad or squalid. “Scope for renovation” means decrepit; “would suit an enthusiast” means a ruin fit only for a madman.

But the richest categories would centre on cross-cultural taboos such as death and bodily functions. The latter seem to embarrass Americans especially: one can ask for the “loo” in a British restaurant without budging an eyebrow; don’t try that in New York. Lavatory and toilet were once euphemisms themselves; they in turn were replaced by water closet (WC) and the absurd “rest room”. British English encourages lively scatological synonyms: foreigners told that someone is “taking a slash” or “on the bog” may be mystified.

 

 

Sex outstrips even excretion as a source of euphemism. The Bible is full of them: “foot” for penis, “know” for intercourse, with “other flesh” if transgressive. Masturbation was self-abuse or the sin of Onan to the Victorians; oral sex is “playing the bamboo flute” in Japanese. A prostitute accosting a client on the streets of Cairo will ask Fi hadd bitaghsal hudoumak (Literally, “Do you have someone to wash your clothes?”)

Even the most straight-talking obfuscate that line of work. Swedes, like many others, refer to världens äldsta yrke (the world’s oldest profession). A brothel in Russian is a publichny dom—literally a “public house”, which causes problems when British visitors with rudimentary Russian try to explain the delights of their village hostelry. In China many hair salons, massage parlours and karaoke bars double as brothels. Hence anmo(massage), falang (hair salon) or a zuyu zhongxin (foot-massage parlour) can lead to knowing nods and winks. For obscure reasons, Germans call the same institution aPuff. In Japan, such places are called sopurando, (a corrupted version of “soapland”) or a pin-saro (pink salon).

Euphemisms for the act itself may be prim (carnal knowledge), poetic (make love) or crude (shagging). Over time such expressions lose their suggestive power and may even become off limits themselves. To engage in sexual intercourse in German is bumsen (to thump), along the lines of the English “bonk”. To masturbate is wichsen (to polish). In both cases the slang sexual connotation has overtaken the original one.

Personal ads provide an entire subgenre of euphemism. “Cuddly” means “fat”. “Romantic” means needy and clingy. “Old-fashioned” means inconsiderate sex (if male) or infrequent (for females). “Outgoing and fun-loving” mean annoyingly talkative, promiscuous or both. “Open-minded” means desperate.

Little white lies

Orwell was right: euphemisms can be sneaky and coercive. They cloak a decision’s unpleasant results, as in “let go” for “fire”, or “right-sizing” for “mass sackings”. They make consequences sound less horrid—as, chillingly, in “collateral damage” for “dead civilians”.

Such jargony, polysyllabic euphemisms, often using long Latinate words instead of short Anglo-Saxon ones, can quickly become an argot used by slippery-tongued, well-educated insiders to defend their privileges. With luck, the real word may fall into disuse and the humble outsider will feel intimidated by the floppy, opaque language that masks wrongdoing or shortcoming. How do you begin to complain if you don’t know the lingo?

Politically correct euphemisms are among the most pernicious. Good and bad become “appropriate” or “inappropriate”. A ghastly problem becomes a less alarming “challenging issue”. Spending is investment; cuts are savings. “Affected by material error” (in European Union parlance) means money stolen from the budget.

But euphemisms can also be benign, even necessary. Sometimes the need to prevent hurt feelings justifiably takes precedence over clarity. Saying that dim or disruptive children have “special needs”, or that they exhibit “challenging behaviour”, does not make them easier to teach—but it may prevent them being teased or disheartened. “Frail” (of an old person) is nicer than doddery or senile. Euphemisms may be a species of lie, but some of them are white.

A culture without euphemism would be more honest, but rougher. Here’s a New Year’s resolution: scrub your conversation of euphemism for a day. The results will startle you.

 http://www.economist.com/node/21541767?fsrc=scn/tw/te/ar/makingmurderrespectable

the language police

Posted in Uncategorized by aggslanguage on December 17, 2011
Why do they adopt an error-hunting mindset?

Oliver Burkeman Weekend illustration 17 Dec 2011

‘The debate about how far language ought to be allowed to evolve is an old one.’ Illustration: Adam Howling for the Guardian

Think of the word “atrocity”, and certain appalling behaviours spring to mind. Add “barbaric”, and the picture gets worse. How about a barbaric atrocity that’s “detestable” and provokes “horror”? At this point, it’s surely time for a UN intervention. We must act to halt this outrage! Except that all the words just quoted come from discussions of the uses and abuses of English. Simon Heffer, in his recent book Strictly English, thinks the so-called “greengrocer’s apostrophe” is an atrocity, and that academics write barbarically; William Zinsser’s guidebook On Writing Well also condemns some usages as atrocities, and others as detestable. Meanwhile, contributors to a BBC debate on Americanisms earlier this year spoke of their “horror” and “hate” in reaction to phrases that made them “feel the rage rising”. The debate about how far language ought to be allowed to evolve is an old one. But all this fury raises a more specific psychological question: what are people so angry about?

This is the topic of The Phenomenology of Error, a fascinating paper published 30 years ago by the linguist Joseph Williams, recently highlighted on the blog Lingua Franca. It’s true that some of this language-policing is done humorously. But there’s something weirdly disproportionate about it all. Most social annoyances are either invasions of space, as when someone jabs you with an elbow, or invasions of “psychic space”, like chatting about your bowel troubles over dinner. But using a split infinitive, or “can I get” instead of “may I have”, is neither. Yet “the language people use to condemn linguistic errors seems far more intense than the language they use to [condemn]… a hard bump on the arm,” Williams writes. (To incite pub debates, try suggesting there’s nothing wrong with “can I get”. Hilarity will ensue.) Sometimes, an ulterior motive is obvious: the Plain English Campaign, which purports to fight for clarity, is shamefully eager to jump on made-up “PC gone mad” stories like the fuss about the BBC’s use of BC and AD. But it’s often less clear. “Deep psychic forces,” Williams suspects, are at play.

A clue to the answer, he suggests, lies in the curious frequency with which the critics of “bad” English make the very errors they despise. EB White, who co-wrote The Elements Of Style, used “that” and “which” in violation of his own rules. Heffer, among various sins, condemns the passive voice but deploys it freely. (George Orwell did the same.) What this demonstrates, to simplify Williams’s point, is that the “error-hunting” mindset is a way of relating to language that’s utterly different than (from?) the one we normally use. Go looking for mistakes and you’ll find them; don’t look, and many won’t impinge on your consciousness. Heffer et al, it seems, take the latter stance towards their own work. In his final paragraphs, Williams reveals his paper contains numerous deliberate errors. He asks his readers: did you spot them? Exactly.

So why adopt error-hunting mindset? Simply because “it feels more authentic when we condemn error and enforce a rule… what good is learning a rule if all we can do is obey it?” Anger delivers ego-enhancing pleasure; so does strengthening the boundaries of group membership – and carping about language is far more socially acceptable than explicit class snobbery or nationalism (not to mention less bother than confronting actual atrocities). Still, can we get, sorry, “may we have”, a bit of perspective, please?

 - guardian.co.uk, Friday 16 December 2011

 • oliver.burkeman@guardian.co.uktwitter.com/oliverburkeman

Disgust: How did the word change so completely?

Posted in Uncategorized by aggslanguage on December 4, 2011

Illustration of vandal breaking a window, by Ben Newman

Originally “disgust” was used to express distaste for rotten food or filth. Today it’s deployed against looters, phone hackers and others whose actions many find morally murky. So how did the meaning change so much?

Shakespeare was never disgusted. This was not a word at the Elizabethan playwright’s disposal – it only entered the English language towards the end of his life.

He instead wrote of “gorge rising”. Same emotion. Different phraseology.

Today the word disgust has replaced more visceral descriptions of revulsion and loathing.

It came into English in 1601 from the Old French “desgouster” meaning distaste, loathe or dislike, in the sense of giving a bad taste to one’s mouth, says Gerry Breslin, of Collins Language.

It was also used to mean aversion, but took another 200 years to gain widespread usage.

“Nowadays people and attitudes can disgust us rather than tastes and smells. The verb has lost its currency, but we do use the adjective disgusting to cover all of these usages.”

But what disgusts us most? A new morality test, devised by the BBC’s Lab UK, tests reactions to various scenarios. The scientists behind the test want to find out how our sense of right and wrong holds society together.

This sense of a purely moral disgust evolved to protect communities from those who threaten our ability to work together, says behavioural scientist Val Curtis, of the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine.

“The word that we use for it has changed, but the emotion has not. Disgust is a system in the brain that helps us avoid disease and contamination, and also human parasites.

“It’s an ancient reaction. We already had an emotion that was good for shunning people with poor hygiene, so we started to use the same emotion to push transgressors out of the group.”

Graph showing frequency of use of word disgusted

It is difficult to chart the shifting meanings of disgust.

Politicians use it, as it’s a powerful means to contaminate people with their words”

Val Curtis

But Google Ngram measures the frequency with which it appears in books and periodicals, and shows a sharp spike in 1800, when the Industrial Revolution picked up steam and urban drift became an urban rush.

“Letters to the editor, and the journalists themselves, have used disgust, disgusting or disgusted to describe their reactions to things they don’t like right back into the 18th Century,” says Bob Clarke, the author of From Grub Street to Fleet Street: an Illustrated History of English Newspapers to 1899.

Examples plucked from his collection of letters to the editor include:

  • “SIR – I was much disgusted, with many more peaceable people, at the afternoon demonstration held in our town, on Wednesday last, by the colliers of the district” – Wrexham Advertiser, 5 February 1870
  • “Lord Bute has triumphed over all to the disgust of an incensed people” – letter to the editor, Middlesex Journal, 19 November 1774

“The use of the word disgusted was so common that it was sometimes used in error,” says Mr Clarke.

This necessitated corrections and clarifications such as this from the Blackburn Standard in March 1850: “In our summary of Friday, Lord J Russell is made to say that ‘the country was still disgusted with recent legislation’. It was a misprint; the word should have been ‘disquieted’.”

The origins of the pen name Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells are not clear. Wikipedia cites historian and former newspaper editor Frank Chapman attributing it to staff at the Tunbridge Wells Advertiser. The story goes that letters were made up to fill space and one member of staff signed off theirs with “Disgusted, Tunbridge Wells”.

Another story goes that it came from a letter-writer to The Times or Daily Telegraph.

It is thought that the phrase does date from the mid-20th Century. But similarly named correspondents have been composing slightly humorous letters of complaint since the mid-19th Century.

The Oxford English Dictionary carries this definition: “Disgusted n. Brit. (usually humorous or depreciative). Originally as a self-designation: a member of the public who writes anonymously to a newspaper expressing outrage about a particular issue. Hence more widely: a person who is vocal and indignant in his or her opposition to something.”

The first recorded usage dates from 26 September 1868, when “Yours, &c., Disgusted” wrote to the Musical Standard about the position of an organ in a Kennington chapel.

“The humour lies in applying a word which conveys strong emotion to a relatively minor or trivial matter,” says Denny Hilton, the OED’s senior assistant editor. “This sort of weakening of meaning is a natural feature of language development – we abominate things, or adore them, or describe them as disasters, or nightmares, in much the same way.”

Words commonly paired with disgust

Young woman pulling a disgusted face
  • behaviour, habit, attitude
  • crime
  • story
  • revelation
  • insult
  • greed
  • Also goo, concoction, mess

Source: Collins Corpus of 4.5 bn words

By 1978, this nom de plume for an outraged letter-writer was so well-worn that Radio 4 called its new listener feedback programme Disgusted, Tunbridge Wells. (It has since been renamed the rather more prosaic Feedback.)

But disgust and its variations are also popular with politicians and commentators, and not for comic effect, says Dr Curtis.

“It’s a word that sticks to people and is used to label them. So politicians often use it, as it’s a powerful means to contaminate people with their words. Immigrants and homosexuals have both been on the receiving end of this over time.”

Then there is the way it rolls off the tongue when one wants to sound truly outraged, says Breslin.

“The s sounds and the harsh g and final t help to make it a very sonorous and impactful word.”

Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells

Graham StewartNewspaper historian

The Times digital archive covers every issue of the paper between 1785 and 1985.

The phrase “disgusted of Tunbridge Wells” was only used twice during that 200-year period, the first in 1980 and then in 1983 – in both cases deployed as an already well-worn phrase.

As for “Disgusted, Tunbridge Wells”, the earliest reference in our archive is in a leading article entitled “What Matters in a Democracy” from 3 January 1964 which contains the line – “[T]he present Conservative government is more socialistic than [Ramsay] MacDonald’s cared to be little more than 30 years ago – an observation frequently echoed by that other political commentator, ‘Disgusted, Tunbridge Wells’.”

From which we can deduce that by 1964 the term was already a well-worn cliche – though not one that had previously appeared in The Times.

 

By Megan LaneBBC News Magazine

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-15619543

Académie Française challenged to update language with fresh bon mots

Posted in Uncategorized by aggslanguage on November 27, 2011

Could attachiant, eurogner or bête seller win approval from the French-language watchdog and make it into the dictionary?

Jeanne Moreau in the film JULES ET JIM

Attachiante: a woman you can’t live with but can’t live without, as personified by Jeanne Moreau’s character Catherine in François Truffaut’s Jules et Jim. Photograph: The Ronald Grant Archive

The French may be notoriously touchy about their language, but it seems even the watchdogs of the august Académie Française – whose members, known as “immortals”, have had the last word in matters of Gallic linguistics since 1635 – are not averse to accepting new entries to their celebrated dictionary.

Whether the offerings of the 2011 XYZ festival of new words will pass scrutiny, however, is another matter. Celebrating its 10th year of promoting neologisms, the festival, held in the western French port of Le Havre this weekend, announced its word of the year at the weekend.

The winner was attachiant(e) – a combination of attachant (captivating, endearing) and the slang word chiant (bloody nuisance) to denote someone you cannot live with but cannot live without.

It was followed closely by aigriculteur suggesting a farmer unhappy with his lot in life – as many are – by mixing the French word for farmer withaigri (embittered) and with just a hint of aïe! (French for ouch!).

A particular favourite that made this year’s shortlist was bête seller, describing a particularly awful literary work that becomes an instant hit, and the timely eurogner – euro plus rogner (to cut down) – to suggest making savings in the euro zone.

Someone had also come up with the verb textoter (to write SMS messages on a mobile telephone), presumably something last year’s winner, a phonard – a pejorative term for someone who is glued to their mobile phone – does all the time.

Previous festivals have thrown up gems including ordinosore (ordinateurplus dinosaur, an out-of-date computer), bonjoir (bonjour plus bonsoir, a greeting to be said around midday), and photophoner (to take a photo with a mobile phone).

Éric Donfu, a sociologist and expert in changes in contemporary society, who is the festival’s founder and organiser, said the idea of the event is to breathe new life into the French language. “This festival defends the idea, as expounded by Victor Hugo, that language is a living thing and dies if we don’t invent new words,” he said.

Members of the public are invited to submit their ideas for neologisms atfestival-motnouveau@gmail.com. A shortlist is drawn up and presented to festival guests in Paris and Le Havre in the third week of November.

It remains to be seen whether the Académie Française, which in recent years has concentrated on eliminating nasty Anglo-Saxon interlopers from the French language, will consider any of the new words when it draws up the latest volume of its dictionary.

The three published volumes of the ninth edition – on which work began in 1986 – contains more than 35,000 words, including 15,000 deemed new, and their correct usage. In its eternal quest for linguistic purity and definition, a fourth volume is in progress.

On its website it says: “The Académie never refuses modernness. It only refuses that which threatens the continuity of the language.”

It also states that the Académie’s principle role is to “work with all possible care and diligence to give our language definite rules and to make it pure, eloquent and capable of dealing with art and science”.

And what could be clearer, when dealing with the art and science of love, than describing someone as attachiant(e)?

 

 in Paris - guardian.co.uk, Sunday 27 November 2011

CUTS HELP COIN NEW WORDS OF THE YEAR

Posted in Uncategorized by aggslanguage on November 24, 2011

Story Image

 Labour leader Ed Miliband is credited with coining the phrase

TO some people, the term “squeezed middle” will be associated with eating too many mince pies over Christmas.

 But today academics at Oxford University Press will name it as the global Word of the Year for expressing a very different meaning.

It’s official definition is: “The section of society regarded as particularly affected by inflation, wage freezes, and cuts in public spending during a time of economic difficulty, consisting principally of those people on low or middle incomes.”

Labour leader Ed Miliband is credited with coining the phrase when he said his aim in politics was to stand up for the “squeezed middle”.

Language experts in both the UK and the US have been impressed with how quickly the expression has taken hold and become commonplace. Oxford Dictionaries spokeswoman Susie Dent said: “The speed with which ‘squeezed middle’ has taken root, and the likelihood of its endurance, made it a good candidate for Word of the Year.”

Other contenders were Arab Spring (political uprisings in North Africa and the Middle East), hacktivism (gaining unauthorised access to computer files), Occupy (an international movement protesting against perceived economic injustice), phone hacking (the action or practice of gaining access to data stored in another person’s phone), and sodcasting (playing music through the loudspeaker of a mobile phone while in a public place).

Ms Dent added: “It is not a jolly set. If there was no obvious winner, there was a very clear prevailing mood.

“Financial hardship and protest on an almost unprecedented scale have scored our language deeply, and frivolous word-play was hard to find.” However, the panel did consider bunga bunga, to describe former Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi’s infamous parties, and fracking, the forcing open of fissures in rocks with liquid at high pressure to extract oil or gas.

Wednesday November 23,2011 - By Nathan Rao

 http://www.express.co.uk/posts/view/285389/Cuts-help-coin-new-words-of-the-year

The cool twists of language

Posted in Uncategorized by aggslanguage on November 24, 2011

Guardian letter writers have been enjoying dissecting the word ‘cool’ – it may have had a surprising path to its modern meaning. 

s - guardian.co.uk, Monday 21 November 2011 

Anton Chekov

Translating Chekhov can draw out the subtlety of language. Photograph: Unknown/ Bettmann/Corbis

The Oxford philosopher JL Austin once observed in a lecture that in English a double negative implied a positive meaning, whereas no language had been found in which a double positive implied a negative meaning. Another philosopher who was in the audience that day made a very simple counterclaim just by saying “yeah, yeah”.

Over time words and expressions change in sound, in spelling and in use, sometimes at a snail’s pace and sometimes almost overnight – ascontributors to the Guardian’s letters page have recently reminded us with reference to “cool”. A change in meaning may follow a comprehensible if always tortuous path (from the coarse cloth, or bure, on the tables of medieval clerks to the modern bureaucrat, for example), or it may switch at a stroke into its opposite. Rien, the French word for “nothing”, for example, is derived from the Latin rem, which means “something” (in the accusative case). By what path can a word get from meaning “something” to meaning “nothing”? It’s like asking how anything can be “hot” and “cool” at the same time. Obviously, they can be – especially if you don’t even know whether the jazz throbbing through the speakers is hot, cool, or just loud.

In Chekhov’s short story Agafya, two rather disreputable fellows offer a girl a glass of vodka. She replies with a colloquial expression –Выдумал! – that means something like “Where did you get the idea [that I drink vodka]?” or “What put that idea into your head?” or “Don’t insult me!” A thoughtful professional American translator of Chekhov expresses the force of the girl’s response by “Oh! Please!” To my British ear, however, “Oh! Please!” is not a negative but an extremely positive expression. I can hear the young woman clapping her hands and springing to her feet to say in a squeaky treble, ooopleeeez! But for my American colleague, “oh please” is pronounced with an intercalated aspirated schwa between the first two consonants – p-h-er-leez – and for her it is a put-down, a wrist-slap, a no-no. The English word “please” means “yes” – and it means “no”.

It’s not enough to say that’s just a difference between British and American English. Speakers of British English know that “Oh please” if said with the extra half-syllable between the p and l is a negative expression, just as Americans know that “Oh please” said with a rising intonation is a positive. When written down, the words oh please mean anything you want them to mean in the imaginary linguistic context your mind supplies. Same in French, as a matter of fact: merci means “thank you” and it also means “no thank you”, depending on how you say it, in what circumstances, and to whom.

Most philosophers do not like expressions that mean one thing and its opposite. Aristotle came up with the law of excluded middle to get rid of them: “For any proposition, either that proposition is true, or its negation is.” Yet ordinary language users are addicted to using and inventing expressions that mean one thing or its opposite depending on who’s listening. Taboo words are almost always capable of reversing their meaning – they can be used for purposes that are diametrically opposed. Shit! may express strong disapproval in many circumstances, but among the right crowd it may equally well be used by the same speaker to express delight and surprise.

“Cool” probably didn’t come to mean stylish, swish, glamorous or desirable by the same kind of forking path that makes please and shit into bipolar expressions. As an antonym of “hot” it probably had the power to mean “not angry”, “not hurried” and all sorts of more desirable attributes than those that are normally associated with heat. It may well be that the first “cool” was nonchaloir, an Old French expression meaning “non-heat” (from the obsolete verb chaloir, “to be hot”). Given the muddled history of words moving from French to English and back again, “cool” – as in a “cool customer”, “as cool as a cucumber” – might have started out as a translation of nonchalant into the local lingo. As we British do admire restraint in outward behaviour, it’s no surprise that a nonchalant gentilhomme – a real cool gent – was one to be imitated and admired, and that coolness became associated with stylish and fashionable things.

Of course this is all speculation, as are most forms of word history. But just as languages constantly change and switch things around, so too are they surprisingly conservative, and what often seems most modern and trendy turns out to be a reminiscence or a revival of some forgotten form in the language of yore. It’s possible that the present vast spread of “cool” in our own language (and far beyond, not just back into Frenchbaba-cool, but into Chinese 酷  as well) wouldn’t have arisen without cool jazz; but it’s just as likely that had jazz never been invented the idea that there’s something stylish about not being hot (bothered, angry, puce…) would have given “cool” many of the meanings it now has.

In Tallinn and Tartu, however, what’s really kool is school. No wonder Estonians are so high up the league tables.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2011/nov/21/cool-language-guardian-letter-writers?newsfeed=true

Grappling Grammarians

Posted in Uncategorized by aggslanguage on November 24, 2011

It was probably John Dryden who started the ban on ending sentences with prepositions; Jonathan Swift couldn’t stand contractions.

Who decides whether it’s acceptable to end a sentence with a preposition or to use the word “infer” as a synonym for “imply”? Who decides whether the phrase “free gift” is redundant and therefore incorrect, and whether it’s proper to speak of a “mutual friend” since “mutual” refers to a relationship between two, not three? Most literate people still want these questions decided for them by some authority, whether H.W. Fowler, the usage notes in the American Heritage Dictionary or the guy in the next cubicle who knows a lot about grammar. This urge for clarity remains despite the best efforts of academic linguists and other “descriptivist” grammarians who dismiss the notion of grammatical “correctness” and insist that “rules” are wholly determined by usage.

The trouble with descriptivism—the idea that the grammarian’s job is to describe the language, not to issue judgments about propriety—isn’t that it’s theoretically unsound. Rules really are just conventions. The trouble with descriptivism is that it’s inhuman. People will always want to know the right way to say a thing. The secretary writing a letter or the corporate communications drone writing a press release doesn’t care whether “impact” as a verb is “generally accepted,” as modern usage manuals put it; he wants to know if using “impact” as a verb will make him sound stupid.

Henry Hitchings, in “The Language Wars,” seems to appreciate the fact that propriety is part of human life, even if it’s given no room in the lifeless principles of linguistics. He has plenty of criticisms for those “inveterate fusspots” who understand just enough English grammar to lord it over their supposed inferiors, but he isn’t so naïve as to think we can be rid of “rules” in the old-fashioned sense of the word.

The story begins in the 17th century. The distinction between “will” and “shall” was first proposed in 1653 by John Wallis in a book—oddly, written in Latin—called “Grammatica Linguae Anglicanae.” In 1660 the newly formed Royal Society established a “committee for improving the English language,” and in 1667 the society’s historian Thomas Sprat was inveighing against excessive ornament and “fineness” in English prose. It was probably John Dryden, we learn, who originated the prejudice against ending sentences with prepositions. Early in the next century Jonathan Swift thundered against contractions, and Daniel Defoe suggested that the interdiction against coining new money ought to apply equally to words.

By the 19th century, with the use of English reaching higher and higher levels of sophistication and complexity, English-speakers became much more receptive to rule-making. Noah Webster taught America to spell “labor” without a “u” and “public” without a “k”; the Rhode Islander Goold Brown invented the rule (still followed by some) that “between” applies to a relationship of two, and “among” to three or more; and in 1897 an anonymous writer in a British magazine named the “split infinitive” as something to be avoided.

Mr. Hitchings finds that some of the most stringent 18th- and 19th-century grammarians were far more thoughtful about language than their modern descriptivist critics have supposed. Bishop Lowth, whose “Short Introduction to English Grammar” (1762) conceived the rule against double negatives and established many other prejudices, was in fact remarkably nuanced in his judgments. Samuel Johnson, the greatest of all prescriptivists, had no faith in etymology and regarded as sheer folly the idea that an “academy” should be established to “protect the language.” There is evidence, too, that some of the old-school grammarians didn’t take themselves nearly so seriously as might be thought: John Ash’s “Grammatical Institutes” (1763), for example, contains this marvelous explanation: “A Parenthesis (to be avoided as much as possible) is used to include some Sentence in another.”

Mr. Hitchings writes with exceptional efficiency and clarity, and he appears to realize that the conventions of English—we used to call them rules—are precisely what allow the versatility, subtlety and grace of the best writing. Yet he defers obediently to the verities of modern linguistics, and when he tries to defend the older conventions he ends up tying himself in knots. Take his discussion of the rampant use of “they,” “them” and “their” to refer to singular antecedents, as in: “When someone shouts ‘Fire!’ in a theater, they’re not exercising their right to free speech.” Mr. Hitchings treats this and other questions the way some people treat abortion: personally he’s opposed to it, but he won’t call it wrong. Saying “he” is widely considered sexist, he notes, and saying “he or she” can be cumbersome if done too often. He makes a fair point that “everyone” should be considered plural in order to avoid ambiguity: the sentence “Christine met everyone at the camp site before John arrived with his tent” sounds ridiculous if “his” refers to “everyone” rather than John. But ambiguity arises just as easily when the antecedent is singular. For instance: “If a visitor arrives with flowers, take them to the sitting room.” Take the visitor to the sitting room, or just the flowers?

Indeed, Mr. Hitchings is of two minds about proper English. He complains about the “imperious” attitudes of Fowler and Strunk and White, but concedes that modern descriptivist grammars don’t supply “decisive, straightforward answers” to problems that “feel uncomfortably real.” He knows that the meanings of words change over time, and rightly deplores the conceit of those “fusspots” who berate people for incorrect usages, but “I wince,” he admits, “when ‘hysterical’ is used as a synonym for ‘hilarious.’ “

Ambivalence is an excellent quality in a historian, however, and for all Mr. Hitchings’s hand-wringing, even the fusspots will relish his latest book.

The Language Wars

By Henry Hitchings
(Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 408 pages, $28)

Mr. Swaim is the author of “Scottish Men of Letters and the New Public Sphere, 1802-34.”

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052970204224604577028243560830070.html

Through the Language Glass by Guy Deutscher – review

Posted in Uncategorized by aggslanguage on November 13, 2011

An exuberant book, rich in anecdote, instance and oddity, about the curious interactions between language and perception

Prime Minister William Gladstone

William Gladstone speculated that the ancient Greeks were unable to see in colour. Photograph: Bettmann/Corbis

In April 2002, the great journal Lloyd’s List gave shipping a sex change, switching the nautical pronoun to “it”. According to Guy Deutscher, “‘she’ fell by the quayside.” There, in half a sentence, you have the delight of this book: pertinent anecdote, relaxed wit and an uneasy sense that the author is always one jump ahead.

As a reporter who once covered the waterfront, I loved Lloyd’s List. Its closely printed pages recorded so much of the world’s shipping traffic and its tragedies (in its berths and deaths columns, so to speak). But editorial fiat couldn’t change the thinking of a generation that metaphorically pushed the boat out, or waited for their ship to come in; that caught the tide or sailed against the wind; that grew up with Captain Marryat, C S Forester and Joseph Conrad. To such people, English ships display feminine grace, not because a bulk carrier, barge or battleship is innately female, but because some linguistic convention ensured that for a thousand years after the Norman Conquest, the English language retained “she” for shipping even as it neutered almost every other inanimate thing, including trees.

Put like that, the logic is obvious: of course a language that confers masculinity on a pine tree but femininity on a palm would be able to play with imagery that might make no sense in translation to a language that did not. Deutscher’s book begins with a promise to demolish the intellectual clichés, and subvert glib anecdotal demonstrations of the way our mother tongue defines or limits our thought, and then confirms that in very limited instances, it almost certainly does shape the way we see the world. The book is a joyous and unexpected intellectual journey through the strange interaction between language and the world that language attempts to describe.

At its heart is an old conundrum. Why was Homer’s sea “wine-dark”? Did the Greeks have no word for blue? William Ewart Gladstone, already an ex-Chancellor of the Exchequer but not yet a prime minister, published in 1849 a 1,700-page, three-volume work on the poet of The Iliad and The Odyssey, and ended it with a chapter on Homer’s perception and use of colour.

According to Deutscher, this profoundly affected “the development of at least three academic disciplines” and triggered a war over the linguistic link between culture and nature that, 150 years on, is still being fought. For Gladstone was inclined to think that because the Greek language offered such a limited visual palette, then perhaps colour perception had not evolved: perhaps ancient Greeks saw the world more in black and white than in Technicolour.

This hypothesis could – up to a point – be tested: perhaps other “primitive” cultures maintained the same handicap? Imperialist Europe and expansionist America were not short of subjects for research.

The question was: does not having a word for blue (or green) mean that people don’t see that colour? Tests showed quickly enough that colour-blindness is not common, and is evenly distributed everywhere. So could there be something about the language that dictated a particular group’s perception of or attention to colour? Or something about the demands of the local environment that necessarily shaped the tribal language?

The journey to a not-quite-cut-and-dried conclusion draws on history, ethnography and psychology as well as a little physiology, and delivers from the mix an exuberant book, rich in anecdote, instance and oddity. Great names flit across the pages; great stories, too, about the astonishing variety of human speech and the riches of even the most supposedly primitive, vanishing languages. The speakers of Guugu Yimithirr, for example, would never advise a motorist to take the second left: all their conversation is in exquisitely precise geographic coordinates. They even, says Deutscher, dream in cardinal directions.

This is a book written in blissful English, by someone whose mother tongue is Hebrew, who is an expert in near-Eastern languages and who can no doubt talk his way confidently around Europe and far beyond: a living rebuke to the obdurate Anglo-Saxon monoglot.

 - guardian.co.uk, Tuesday 8 November 2011

Tim Radford‘s geographical reflection, The Address Book: Our Place in the Scheme of Things is published by Fourth Estate

Royal Society Winton Prize for Science Books: The shortlist

Alex’s Adventures in Numberland by Alex Bellos
Through the Language Glass: How Words Colour Your World by Guy Deutscher
The Disappearing Spoon by Sam Kean
The Wavewatcher’s Companion by Gavin Pretor-Pinney
Massive: The Missing Particle That Sparked the Greatest Hunt in Science by Ian Sample
The Rough Guide to the Future by Jon Turney

words which show language variation

Posted in Uncategorized by aggslanguage on November 12, 2011

 

saw

Eighteenth century grammarians promoted the use of a single past tense verb rather than several different forms for the same verb. This has led to ‘saw’ becoming the past tense form for ‘see’, and the others such as ‘seed’ are no longer used by speakers who want to appear educated. This drive to reduce variation has partly been due to a desire to eliminate what was seen as redundancy in language. This has led to variation being fairly unusual and therefore when it does exist it seems to attract the attention of analysts. Jenny Cheshire names this the idea of ‘one form, one meaning’.

never

Jenny Cheshire addresses the idea of ‘never’ functioning as a negative marker. She notes that the conventional analyses see ‘never’ as an indeterminate, equivalent to ‘not ever’. However ‘never’ cannot be seen as equivalent to ‘not ever’ in situations where the time reference is to a restricted period of time, as in ‘I never went out last night’, where ‘never’ could not be replaced by ‘not ever’. Cheshire is making the point that conventional analyses miss this point, and it breaks the idea of ‘one form, one meaning’. Instead Cheshire states that instead ‘never’ in this context is labelled as ‘non-standard’, even though it is frequently used in this way in educated speech and in writing.

you know

Fillers such as “you know” were once dismissed as simply fumbles, but after rigorous analyses of their use in interaction, it has been revealed that they have important and varied function. Jenny Cheshire is showing that ‘standard spoken English’ does not take fully into account all the functions of certain words or phrases, and can dismiss them simply as non-standard English. Jenny Cheshire claims that our ‘frameworks of analysis conform to the views of language that we have acquired during our education rather than to the variety of language that we produce during face-to-face interaction.

tag questions

Early studies assigned tag questions a single function of simply expressing speaker insecurity and the desire to get approval from others, however later more careful analyses revealed a range of meanings and functions. Jenny Cheshire claims that conventional analyses forces us to look for simply ‘one form, one meaning’ and this can cause us to overlook the typical features of spoken language, where meanings are usually pragmatically determined.

like

Jenny Cheshire notes that conventional frameworks of analyses have no way of accounting for words that are becoming grammaticalized, and the meaning of the word is therefore undergoing grammatical change. ‘Like’ is becoming a marker of reported speech and thought. Therefore grammatical analyses have no way of accounting for variation in general. This is also evident with ‘going to’, which is now being used as a future time marker. Jenny Cheshire observes that the people typically writing descriptions of language are ‘middle-aged’ academics who have spent many years immersed in language, and therefore this speech is perhaps not representative of the speech of the majority of educated speakers of English.

that

Jenny Cheshire claims that the one form, one meaning’ structure of Standard English grammarians has led to semantic and pragmatic functions of the word ‘that’ being seriously misunderstood. It has previously been assumed that the fundamental meaning of the word is a distal spatial one, in opposition to ‘this’. However this meaning is only correct when it is in implicit or explicit opposition with ‘this’. There are other frequent meanings, such as the ‘empathetic’ ‘that’ in examples like ‘how’s that throat?’ it also has meanings as a relative pronoun and as an intensifier. Therefore Cheshire is showing how it is possible to identity a more basic function of ‘that’ which has been obscured in previous analyses. In her article “Spoken Standard English” Jenny Cheshire addresses an issue she notes in regards to the definition of ‘standard English’. She states that the concept of spoken Standard English is problematic, but also that the grammatical structure of spoken English is not well understood. Cheshire observes the fact that our conventional descriptions of ‘standard English’ actually fit written English much better than they fit speech we produce, particularly because the situations we mostly speak in are informal ones.

there

In spontaneous speech, Jenny Cheshire observes that there is often incorrect agreement when ‘there’ is used, and she believes we should look for an explanation for this. If you take an approach orientated at spoken language then you would note that the structure regularly occurs, and could therefore look at how it relates to factors which are important to speakers. Cheshire states that a big factor is the presentation of information, because spontaneous language is produced in chunks of information rather than in perfect sentence structures. In speech there is a preference for clauses to have light subjects and for new information to be presented at the end of a clause. Therefore the irregular ‘there’ construction fits into this pattern, with the focused presentation of new information. The grammars of Standard English cannot account for this.

s suffix

In non-standard English an -s suffix on present tense verbs is frequently seen, for example in ‘I loves Elvis, he’s great.’ There is not in examples like this, agreement between the verb and the subject, but they appear to have functions in topic management and in turn-taking, and they seem to occur as unanalysed wholes. Jenny Cheshire believes that we do not discover a discourse function and its effect on variation unless we specifically set out to look for it. What is glibly dismissed by grammarians of Standard English as non-standard forms, are very often important features of spoken language which it relies on to work: spoken language and written language work in different ways, so we should expect them to have different rules, and not suppose that any variation from SE is simply non-standard and a regional or social variation.

wh-descriptive clause

Jenny Cheshire considers clauses which start with words like ‘when’ or ‘where’ or sometimes even ‘there’, and the function of them is as a bid for a topic to be discussed, and are frequently used by teenagers when recounting an event. They are used almost instead of saying ‘do you remember’. Cheshire believes the speaker is attempting to propose a topic and at the same time invite others to take it up, which is a feature of what she refers to as “Standard Spoken English” as opposed to the SE of grammarians which is based on the written variety only, thus not allowing for the fact that written and spoken grammars must necessarily differ. What has previously been discounted as non-standard regional or social variations, are very often accounted for by the difference between standard spoken and written varieties.

ain’t

This contracted form was once used by both the upper and middle classes in English society, but is now only used by the lower classes. Jenny Cheshire cites the industrial revolution as playing a part in the emergence of a new middle class who were insecure of their social position and therefore looked to grammars for guidance in their linguistic behaviour. This heightened awareness of social status contributed to the idea of ‘politeness’ and that the ‘correct’ form of grammar was a mark of politeness and high status. She states that the concept of spoken Standard English is problematic, but also that the grammatical structure of spoken English is not well understood. Cheshire observes the fact that our conventional descriptions of ‘standard English’ actually fit written English much better than they fit speech we produce, particularly because the situations we mostly speak in are informal ones.

tyoon

New Yorkers were read a list of 12 words one being ‘tune’. They were pronounced in a standard and non-standard way ‘tyoon’ and ‘toon’ the participants then had to decide which one they used. Overwhelming results reported that people think they speak more prestigiously than they actually do. It also showed that more men were more accurate in identifying how they speak than women. 94 men were accurate yet only 64 women were. Peter Trudgill’s research showed that working class men report more non-standard speech in their talking, non-standard speech is seen to have masculine, ‘hard’ connotations as do other aspects of the working class culture. Many men would prefer to be seen in this way. It is prestigious in its own way as it carries its own desirable masculine attributes.

walkin’

…and other verbs ending in -ing, Peter Trudgill in his Norwich Study wanted to see whether the speaker dropped the final g and pronounced this as -in’. 100% of lower working class in reading passage style used non-standard speech and pronounced ‘walking’ without the standard suffix ‘ing’ on the end. Whereas 0% of the middle middle class used the non-standard speech in pronouncing this. The non standard ‘walkin’ was more prominent in men than in women through all of the social classes. However women reported more use of standard speech whereas men over reported their use of non-standard speech. Trudgill noted that only 9-12% of people in Britain actually use Standard English, which raises the question how many speakers think they speak SE and don’t.

cos

Standard speech pronunciation includes all the syllables of the word “because”. The word is shortened in non-standard to ‘cos’ removing the prefix ‘be’ this is used more by men than women. It is also used more by the lower classes as it is more efficient and also is seen to have more connotations as being ‘hard’ and ‘masculine’. Peter Trudgill  found that working class men report more non standard speech in their talking, non-standard speech is seen to have masculine, ‘hard’ connotations as do other aspects of the working class culture. Many men would prefer to be seen in this way. It is prestigious in its own way as it carries its own desirable masculine attributes.

toosday

Pronouncing ‘Tuesday’ with [yu] is seen as more prestigious than [oo] as in ‘Toosday’. In Willima Labov’s research 29 female’s results showed them over reporting the more prestigious form, yet no men over reported. New York participants over reported themselves as using the standard form more than they under reported and only 7 people in total under reported. Peter Trudgill’s research showed that working class men report more non-standard speech in their talking, non-standard speech is seen to have masculine, ‘hard’ connotations as do other aspects of the working class culture. Many men would prefer to be seen in this way. It is prestigious in its own way as it carries its own desirable masculine attributes.

 

I talk horrible

Missing off the suffix ‘ly’ to the adverb ‘horrible’ makes this sentence grammatically incorrect according to the SE dialect. In Peter Trudgill’s experiment in Norwich an informant stated ‘I talk horrible’ but when really asked about why they do not change the way the speak if they are unhappy with it, they admitted that although they do not talk with standard speech they didn’t really want to change as it would be considered foolish and arrogant by their family and friends. Women report that they use more overt prestige Standard English than they actually do. This dishonesty is not deliberate and shows that they are subconsciously dissatisfied with the way they speak and would prefer to speak with a more standard form. ‘No conscious deceit plays a part in this process, most of the respondents seemed to perceive their own speech in terms of the norms at which they are aiming rather than the sound actually produced.’

bluff

In 1735, a British traveller in Georgia, Francis Moore described that America had taken the adjective of nautical and perhaps Dutch origin: bluff”, meaning ‘broad, flat and steep’, to use as a noun for a sort of river bank. This river bank hardly existed in England which is the reason why England originally had no name for it. This is an example of the vocabulary of American English expanding to meet the needs of today, where new words are needed to describe new things. This beneficial change is contradicting the statement that American English had a negative effect on the English language. John Algeo argues that ‘a language or anything else that does not change is dead’ – reinforcing that diversity in languages is necessary for the language to extend to new uses and new speakers, and to retain its popularity.

mother

Americans generally retain the r-sound in the common noun ‘mother’, unlike British which has lost it. This could perhaps show a counterargument to presciptivists who believe American is corrupting the English language, as this is an example of the Americans pronouncing the word as it is truly spelt. John Algeo argues against the belief of some people that American English is running the English language – in terms of vocabulary, grammar and pronunciation. This prescriptivist attitude of people such as Francis Moore and Prince Charles, say that American English is a ‘barbarous language’ which is ‘very corrupting’. However, Algeo argues that ‘change is language is inevitable, just as it is in all others aspects of reality’ and that we should be open to innovation in the English language.

secret’ry

Americans retain a secondary stress on the penultimate syllable on words such as ‘secretary’. The British however have lost both the stress and often the vowel, reducing the word to three syllables, ‘secret’ry’. This British pronunciation is evidence supporting the ‘Damp Spoon Syndrome’ position of some prescriptivists as derisively labelled by Jean Aitchison: that this pronunciation is a sign of how language is becoming lazier. This supposed laziness could also be instanced by Guy Deutscher in his theory of language change which ascribes economy as opposed to laziness as a motive for language change. He stated in 2005 that this is ‘the tendency to save effort’.

guess

The old use of the verb ‘to guess’ which meant ‘think’ or ‘suppose’ is still retained by the Americans. This is evidence to show America is not ‘self-confessed linguistic vandals’ as prescriptivists say, as they are retaining the origins of English words, which have had a semantic shift in Britain. John Algeo argues that ‘a language or anything else that does not change is dead’ – reinforcing that diversity in languages is necessary for the language to extend to new uses and new speakers, and to retain its popularity.

gotten

The past participle ‘gotten’ is used in American English still such as in the declarative sentence ‘I’ve gotten a cold’, where in Britain we would use ‘got’ such as in ‘I’ve got a cold’. However, in America they do still use both past particle forms, which shows clearly the flexibility of American English, going against the idea that American is corrupting the English language. John Algeo argues against the belief of some people that American English is running the English language – in terms of vocabulary, grammar and pronunciation. This prescriptivist attitude of people such as Francis Moore and Prince Charles, say that American English is a ‘barbarous language’ which is ‘very corrupting’. However, Algeo argues that ‘change is language is inevitable, just as it is in all others aspects of reality’ and that we should be open to innovation in the English language.

controversy

A recent British innovation in pronunciation is ‘conTROVersy’ where the stress is on the antepenult vowel, unlike American’s who pronounce it ‘CONtroversy’. This is because this British antepenult accent is unknown in America. That said, people in Britain thought at first that this pronunciation originated from the Americans due to the assumption that anything new is American, highlighting the dislike Britain’s have for the influence Americans have had on their language perhaps. This examples therefore shows that ‘both American and British have changed and go on changing today’ as John Algeo states.

we goes

the use of the present tense suffix with non 3rd person singular subjects is an indicator of vernacular loyalty as Jenny Cheshire found it was spoken less in a formal situation eg school, and people who are more strongly adhering to vernacular culture use it more than people who are less adhering. Jenny Cheshire found that the frequency with which adolescent speakers use many non-standard morphological and syntactic features of the variety of English spoken in the town of Reading in Berkshire is correlated with the extent to which they adhere to the norms of the vernacular culture.

not going nowhere

Multiple/double negative. Indicator of vernacular loyalty for boys as Jenny Cheshire found it was spoken less in a formal situation eg school, and people who are more strongly adhering to vernacular culture use it more than people who are less adhering. However both groups of girls (belonging to and not belonging to vernacular culture) use it at the same frequency. It overtly symbolises belonging to the vernacular culture as people who strongly adhere to the vernacular culture use it more. Jenny Cheshire found that speakers who are favourably disposed towards each other and who are working towards a common goal adjust their speech so that they each speak more like the other – linguistic accommodation – while speakers who are not working towards a common goal may diverge in their linguistic behaviour.

ain’t

Ain’t used for negative present tense forms of be and have with all subjects. It overtly symbolises some of the important values of the vernacular culture, belonging and fitting in. Jenny Cheshire found that while it is an indicator of vernacular loyalty for girls, it doesn’t for boys. Girls who strongly adhere to the vernacular culture use it more than girls who are less adhering. Jenny Cheshire found that linguistic variables often fulfil different social and semantic functions for the speakers who use them. She notes that some features are markers of loyalty to the vernacular culture for adolescent boys but not for girls and vice versa, and that female speakers use non-standard speech forms less frequently than male speakers do.

whom

Who am I speaking to? / To whom am I speaking? – is an example of a  well known ‘error’ in that a preposition (in this sentence, “to”) should never end a sentence. The nominative form of the relative pronoun “who” is also used rather than the oblique for “whom” which according to the standardisation of English should be used after a preposition. Lesley Milroy argues that the perception that this is an error came from the codification of the English language relatively recently in the history of language, whereby the need to have one form as ‘standard’ meant that other frequently used forms were cast as incorrect forming a prescription for grammar. This makes prescriptive arguments difficult as they can create problems such as the former of these two examples is normal in most contexts, whereas the latter will generally be interpreted as marking a social distance.

different to

in the sentences: “Martha’s two children are completely different to each other.” & “Martha’s two children are completely different from each other.” – Rather than “different to” the form “different from” should be used in this sentence according to the grammar of Standard English. However, there are arguments to support and oppose this rule. According to one writer, the reason for preferring “different from” is that “different to” is illogical, as nobody would say “similar from”. But others say that since “different to” falls into a set of words with comparative meanings such as similar, equal, superior, which require “to” there is reason to support this form. Lesley Milroy’s point is that where there is no reason for one form or the other, the Standard English form is no more than a convention – there can be no argument for many of the conventions of SE.

would could

Double modal constructions – ‘a good machine would could do it’ instead of ‘a machine would be able to do it’. These are mainly regional variations. There are some parts of speech that occur as part of spontaneous speech that would not be considered ‘standard English’ if written, as the grammatical rules do not apply. Jenny Cheshire argues that there are many examples of spoken English that would not be considered as standard written English, but that she believes are valid uses of the English language. Perhaps spoken Standard English should be broadened to include these. Where written Standard English only has one form, spoken English varies from region to region and generation to generation; Jenny Cheshire believes that this should be taken into consideration when looking at Spoken Standard English.

you was

Jenny Cheshire discovered that when speaking about minor criminal activity, those who agreed with it, those who were not against the crimes, tended to use grammatically incorrect structures: ‘you was with me, wasn’t you?’ and ‘I never went to school today’. This might suggest that lower class citizens (more likely to commit minor offences – statistically) speak less like standard written English than those who are more educated and higher class. Might suggest that it is a conscious choice to not speak Standard English in order to make oneself stand out more, be seen as more of the locality or class of people.

come down here yesterday

The use of present tense conjugation with time phrase rather than past tense e.g. ‘I come down here yesterday’ instead of ‘I came down here yesterday’. However you could not say ‘I come down here’ without a time phrase unless in context as there is no differentiation between the past and present tense so it would be ambiguous – ‘behaviour is influenced by our social background’ – shows that Jenny Cheshire believes that linguists should take into consideration people’s background, education, social status, wealth etc when making theories about language and variation. The national curriculum for English in England has highlighted that we know very little about spoken English and its differences to standard written English. It is mainly the grammatical structure of spoken English that is misunderstood. Jenny Cheshire explains that some of the theories used to describe spoken English may be biased because they are made by linguists who are exposed to lots of written English – therefore their speech will be influenced by written English more so than people who are not exposed to as much literature.

like

Saying “I was like don’t bother me” in an interview, despite excellent qualifications, will be detrimental to any application for a job. Language discrimination, based on such minor mistakes of spoken English will make a candidate with a London accent be rejected from interview. Sociolinguistics may argue that it is wrong to discriminate on the basis of linguistics grounds, just as it is wrong to discriminate on the basis of colour or race. James Milroy believes that “standardisation inhibits linguistic change and variability.” However, he thinks that it does not and cannot stop linguistic change from happening, no matter how slow the process, as standardisation “leaks.” Linguistic analysis tries to pinpoint the lexical and conversational functions of like and find out how it contributes to modern society and to our knowledge of changing use of English language. According to the prescriptivist, people must be stopped from speaking in this way as it is non-standard. However, it is a typical English for a certain age group in the UK.

alright

In 1960, the spelling “all right” was required in textbooks. Changes have slowly been accepted over last 30 years as words have lexically compounded. “Alright” had been used in some cases before standard language accepted them. This is also the case with “all ready” or “already”. Because of notions of the “Queen’s language”, “the language of a great empire” and “a world language”, in the19th century, there was an additional powerful ideological influence on English language, and so a movement to establish and legitimise Standard English. So constructions such as “I saw” are deemed acceptable and “I seen” unacceptable. This shows successful standardisation in society and James Milroy describes this as “a high degree of uniformity of structure.” ‘Optional’ variation is suppressed and idealisations of standard languages are created. Competing ideologies occur due to vernacular maintenance opposing standard language speech.

looking-glass

Looking glass used for mirror and other such upper class forms of language that, with time, are merely viewed as quaint anachronisms, showing that language regarded as standard or mainstream is not necessarily the language spoken by those of the highest social class. Prestige language is therefore not identical in every respect with an ideal standard language and those with highest social prestige are not directly linked with their prestige of language. Indeed, stigmatised features of upper-class language have reflected features of lower-class language, shown through the dropping of g’s and h’s. James Milroy argues that this shows that it is very often stigma rather than prestige that connects society with language.

John

The American pronunciation of “John” can sound like “Jan” to a Scot and the Scottish pronunciation of “John” can sound like “Joan” to an American. This example shows how differences in vowels can make accents difficult to understand even to other English speakers. Professor David Abercrombie of Edinburgh said one of the “strands” of accent that what one must distinguish is the “short consonant and vowel sounds which alternate in rapid succession”, like in the “John” example, because these make one accent differ from another. John H. Esling argues that every individual has an accent even if they may think that they do not. Esling says accent is important because it shapes our character and communicates who we are. Accents can be used to tell where a person is from, what gender they may be, their age and even what occupation they have taken up. As well as having differences between accents in different areas, differences between individuals also exist. John H. Esling states we may also find it difficult to distinguish between accents of foreign speakers. However, if we are more exposed to that language, we can then work out which speech patterns are similar and which are different and work out how accents in that language differ depending on the part of the country they come from.

beer-can

This is an example that supports Professor David Abercrombie’s “strands” of accent theory, that what one must distinguish is the “short consonant and vowel sounds which alternate in rapid succession”. It is the change in vowel pronunciation of the word “bacon” by Jamaicans as opposed to the Received Pronunciation of “bacon” which is distinctive. In the Jamaican accent, the word “Bacon” sounds more like the common pronunciation of “Beer Can”. The use of this pronunciation by Jamaicans distinguishes them from other people and so supports John H. Esling’s statement that “Accent defines and communicates who we are.” For example, if we were to hear somebody use this pronunciation on the radio, we would assume they were Jamaican.

Enn

John H. Esling says that although pronunciation varies between regions to give us the regional accents, we must also realise that we have individual accents. If we did not, we would not be able “to pick a friend’s voice out of the crowd.” Esling states that accent is not only relative to experience “but also to the number of speech features we wish to distinguish at one time.” One’s own accent will differ from their peers or colleagues but also from their own family. For example, Princess Anne was called “Enn” by her mother but she still pronounced her name as “Ann.” John H. Esling argues that most of us believe that the way we speak is the norm and that may be why we fail to recognise our own accent. We are aware of other accents when we meet people who do not speak in the same way as ourselves and by hearing different accents in the media. We may create a stereotype for a person with a particular accent – we listen and categorise according to what we have heard before.

bau-ell

John H. Esling argues that our accents can change and “we all leave parts of the speaking style of our early years behind, while we adopt new patterns more suited to our later years.” Dr Clive Upton’s work (he is a lecturer in English Language at the University of Leeds) supports what Esling says. His work shows that people speak different accents to their parents, change accents in their lifetimes, and speak differently for different audiences. One good example of somebody who changes their accent depending on who they are speaking to is Tony Blair – using the glottal stop in bottle instead of the “t” sound. Another example is of Edwina Currie (former MP in 1983) who changed her scouse accent so that she was more accepted socially. John H. Esling argues that our accents can change particularly as we grow older. How much they change depends usually on how much we choose to alter them and on social circumstance.

talkin

John H. Esling gives several reasons as to why a person’s accent may change. One of his reasons for accent change is wanting to adapt to your surroundings and blend in. He says, “If we were to leave our native place for an extended period, our perception that the new accents around were strange would only be temporary.” He says we would gradually change our accent “to accommodate our speech patterns to the new norm.” On the other hand, not all people want to change their accents and so keep their original accent to stand out from the crowd – this may be for overt or covert prestige reasons.  This supports what Martin Montgomery says in “An introduction to Language and Society” (1986) and he describes people who keep a more covert prestige accent as “working-class loyalty to non-prestige form”. He says that although people who do this recognise RP as having more overt prestige, they keep the “distinctive patterns of their own locality” in order to preserve their identity – such as “talkin” instead of “talking” as per Peter Trudgill’s study in Norwich.

queue

The word ‘queue’ can also be pronounced in different ways using the pronunciation [kju] or [ku] it would be non Standard English to pronounce it as [ku] as RP would be [kju]. Peter Trudgill looked at a survey carried out in Norwich in 1974, correlating phonetic and phonological variables with social class, age and stylistic context. The relationship that obtain between linguistic phenomena and sex showed that women were more prone to be influenced by the overt prestige of the RP pronunciation, whilst men were more prone to be influenced by the covert prestige of the Non-RP pronunciation.

ngabanmarneyawoyhwarrgahganjginjeng

Is an aboriginal language word, which means ‘I cooked the wrong meat for them again’, which demonstrates the point of Nicholas Evans that just because a language has a different grammatical structure, it is not a lesser language and just as much meaning can be conveyed. The myth that “there’s no grammar in Aboriginal languages, that you can just chuck the words together in any order” is explained by the fact that, like Latin or Russian, most Aboriginal languages use word endings rather than word order to create meaning. So while it is true that words can be put in any order, it does not indicate a lack of grammar. Some Aboriginal languages work use such highly complex verbs able to express a complete sentence.

kalurlhlurlme

Nicholas Evans attempts to dispel the myth that “Aborigines speak a primitive language”. He writes that this myth constitutes a number of ‘sub-myths’ which are, that there is just one Aboriginal language, that Aboriginal languages have no grammar, that the vocabularies of Aboriginal languages are simple and lack detail or that they are cluttered with details and are unable to deal with abstraction, and that Aboriginal languages may be alright in the bush, but they can’t deal with the twentieth century. The preconception that the vocabulary is very limited in Aboriginal languages is addressed by explaining that in many lexical fields, Aboriginal languages are much more extensive than English. For example the word “Kalurlhlurlme” in the Aboriginal language “Kunwinjku” is used for “the hopping of an agile wallaby.” Kunwinjku has many different verbs to describe the different manners of hopping of various Macropods where other languages like English do not as they have not had the need.  As there is no equivalent in English, it could be said that in this case English is an inferior language.

wadubayiinda

There are cases in Aboriginal languages where there is no existing term in a language to cover new concepts, which contact with Europeans and late 20th Century technology has brought. However creating words from scratch to deal with new concepts is an unusual way of doing this in any language. Ray Harlow says that “Computers weren’t talked about in Old English; Modern English is the same as Old English, only later; it should follow that Modern English cannot be used to discuss computers. This is clearly absurd.” The three usual methods of developing terms for new concepts are: using existing words and compounding or affixation is used. (e.g. downsize), borrowing words from other languages (sputnik = fellow traveller in Russian), or extending the meanings of existing words (e.g. surfing the internet). An example of compounding in Kayadild, an Aboriginal language, would be the creation of a word for tobacco (wadubayiinda) by compounding wadu ‘smoke’ with bayii ‘to be bitten’. This logical compounding demonstrates the flexibility of any language and how it changes to suit needs of speakers.

duljawinda

The word for car, duljawinda literally means ‘ground-runner’. This is a logical compounding of two existing words to create a new word to fit the needs of the speaker. This is done frequently in German which is never called a primitive form of language.  For example the word for pollution in German is “umweltverschmutzung” which compounds the words “world” (umwelt) and “dirtiness” (verschmuzung) to create a logical new word to suit the needs of the speakers of the language. The myth that “Aborigines speak a primitive language” links in with the belief that some people hold, that some languages aren’t as good as others. Nicholas Evans argues that the Aboriginal languages have adapted to their needs and adapt to any other external changes, such as technological developments, just as effectively as any other language.

wijipitirli

When borrowing words from different languages, often the pronunciation of the word can be changed to the point where the original source is not recognizable: the English word ‘hospital’ ends up as wijipitirli in Walpiri. Ray Harlow argues that the need to borrow words does not show flaws in languages, as borrowing words from other languages is a feature of all languages and shows the adaptability of Aborigine languages. This explains the point that Ray Harlow makes about the myth that some languages aren’t as good as others and he asks “good enough for what?” He states that languages have evolved over time to suit the needs of the speakers. For example the ability of languages like English or German to explain Nuclear physics, is often given as evidence of these languages superiority. However the ability to speak about nuclear physics was never an intrinsic part of the languages, but instead they have adapted to suit the need to talk about nuclear physics. Extending the meaning of existing words has also been a common solution in many aboriginal languages, which some people think are not as good as western or mainstream languages. For example in Kunwinjku, kun-denge means ‘foot’ as well as ‘wheel’.

schaden-freude

The wide use of the German word “Schaden-Freude” is an example of borrowing in English where there is no English equivalent. Borrowing words from other languages is sometimes seen as a weakness in a language but, maintaining the flexibility to use words from other languages to express certain concepts is vital in maintaining the expressive ability of a language. Nicholas Evans attempts to dispel the myth that “Aborigines speak a primitive language”. He writes that this myth constitutes a number of ‘sub-myths’ which are, that there is just one Aboriginal language, that Aboriginal languages have no grammar, that the vocabularies of Aboriginal languages are simple and lack detail or that they are cluttered with details and are unable to deal with abstraction, and that Aboriginal languages may be alright in the bush, but they can’t deal with the twentieth century. English I only the language it is today through extensive borrowing and change – something any language can do. “Combinations of compounding and extension are a common way of dealing with novel concepts- when a text on nuclear physics has to be translated into an Aboriginal language such as Walipri, for example, a new compound verb was coined to mean ‘cause nuclear fission’ by using root meaning ‘hit’ and an element meaning ‘be scattered’. The fact that Walpiri can now be used to discuss central concepts of nuclear physics is clear testimony to the adaptability of Aboriginal languages.”

baath

The long ‘a’ vowel- [a:] is used in the speech of Southern regions of England. It is a feature of RP, the Standard English, which, although not as popular as it once was, still encourages prejudice. Hearing someone speak with the long ‘a’ vowel in words like ‘grass’, ‘task’ and ‘past’ often makes people think that they are better educated than say a Northerner who would use the short vowel [a] in such words, when in fact the true case could be the exact opposite; it is simply that we have grown up to think of this as the superior form of speech. Dennis R. Preston looked at studies which asked people from different regions of the U.S. to rate the degree of ‘correctness’ of English spoken in the fifty states from 1- ‘worst English’ to 10- ‘best English’. In a study asking 150 Michigan respondents, the lowest ratings were given to the South and NYC. Michiganders also gave their own state a ranking in the ‘8’ range showing that they have ”linguistic security”, Also, when asked to label where they thought various dialect areas were, two of the three most drawn areas were the South and NYC. The South was also drawn most by people from South Carolina, NYC, Oregon and many more as well. The studies found, interestingly, that when answered by Southerners themselves (in Alabama), that they again list NYC as one of the ‘worst-speaking’ areas and, in contrast to the Michigan respondents, don’t rank their own area in the South as one of the best, instead giving it a middle-rank of 5. This shows they suffer from “linguistic insecurity”. In another study asking for rankings of ‘pleasantness’ of dialect rather than ‘correctness’, the Southerners conversely gave themselves the highest ranking and then ranked Northern areas like Michigan very low on ‘pleasantness’. The two things that the Michigan and Alabama respondents do agree on is that NYC is at the bottom of the scale for both ‘correctness’ and ‘pleasantness’.

 

farrmerr

 

Rhoticity and post-vocalic ‘r- pronouncing the ‘r’ in words after a vowel. In England this pronunciation is increasingly restricted to the West Country and the far South West and a small area of Lancashire to the north of Manchester, but it remains a feature of most Scottish and Irish accents. In England, this is a particular example of a dialect feature leading to stereotypes and prejudice and if you pronounce this ‘r’, being most likely from the West Country, people automatically assume you must live on a farm and are fairly uneducated. On a positive note, like how the NYC dialect was found to be the most unpleasant and how the Southern dialect was often found to be pleasant in the studies observed by Dennis R. Preston, this rhoticity in the accent of people from the West Country is often viewed to be pleasant and people assume such speakers are often happy and friendly.

like

 

‘Like’ insertion, the frequent use of the filler ‘like’ which carries no semantic meaning, is considered grammatically incorrect or non-standard i.e. it diverges from what is considered standard English and so is often viewed as inferior. It is thought to have originated within Estuary speech and American-English speech and spread throughout the UK. This is often portrayed as a feature of the speech of ‘youth’ and immediately draws prejudice towards them.

 

bruver

 

In Estuary speech particularly London suburbs like Hackney, the ‘th’ sound often becomes a ‘v’ (or even an ‘f’ sound in words like ‘think’). Dennis Preston looked at how people buy into the idea that some different regional dialects are more correct than others. He investigated how people stereotype others because of how they speak and how everyone judges different dialects according to what is considered ‘standard’ so that they believe that some regional varieties are superior. The ‘standard’ variety of speech is imposed by the higher-status group in society on others and becomes a status symbol, so that where the regional variations differ a lot from the ‘standard’, the people who speak it are considered inferior. He says that ‘a primary linguistic myth, one nearly universally attached to minorities, rural people and the less well educated, extends in the United States’ (where his study was conducted) ‘even to well-educated speakers of some regional varieties. That myth, of course is that some varieties of a language are not as good as others.’

free

Th-fronting refers to the pronunciation of the English “th” as “f” or “v”. When th-fronting is applied, /θ/ becomes /f/ (for example, three is pronounced as free) and /ð/ becomes /v/ (for example, bathe is pronounced as bave). Th-fronting occurs (in many cases historically independently) in Cockney and Estuary English, as well as in many foreign accents. The use of the labiodental fricatives [f] and [v] for the dental fricatives [θ] and [ð] is a well known feature of Cockney and was noted by Peter Trudgill as spreading through non-standard accents in England. Although th-fronting is found occasionally in the middle and upper (middle) class English accents as well, there is still a marked social difference between working and middle class speakers. This is because the phoneme /f/ in words like ‘think’ and ‘thumb’ is non-standard English and considered inferior to traditional RP therefore the upper and much of the middle classes are reluctant to pronounce it. Pronouncing ‘th’ in such a way is often stereotyped to uneducated, working class people and not considered ‘good’ speech. Popular TV shows like Eastenders and Only Fools and Horses have only served to reinforce this stereotype which is similar to the Southern American drawl stereotyping people as hillbillies as highlighted by Dennis Preston’s arguments on the prejudices which dominate our views on accents.

ouse

H dropping is a linguistic term used to describe the omission of initial /h/ in words like house, heat, and hangover in many dialects of English, such as Cockney and Estuary English.  This tendency to delete the initial <h> sound in words such as happy and house – first provoked comment in the eighteenth century and has been avoided by the middle classes. Such speech has also been popularised by programmes like Eastenders and Only Fools and Horses of which both feature working class characters and who, in the latter, are often made out to be quite stupid. Therefore a strong tendency to H-drop and generally ‘talk cockney’ immediately inspires negative judgement on people. Sometimes speakers prone to H-dropping consciously seek to avoid it in formal situations and end up inserting an [h] inappropriately, resulting in often caricatured pronunciations such as honest with the [h] intact, or statements such as what an orrible hexperience. This phenomenon is known as hypercorrection, and might explain the increasingly common pronunciation of the letter h (aitch) as if it were haitch. If someone is heard adding h’s where they are not meant to be pronounced, they are often mocked and people consider them inferior.

 

dinnae

 

‘Nae’ ‘Dinnae’ ‘Cannae’ ‘I dinnae ken’- Standard Scottish English Vs Scots. Major regions in Scotland (e.g. Aberdeen, Ayrshire, Glasgow, Edinburgh, Fife, Inverness) have their own distinct accents and dialect words. In Edinburgh people are known for being of the upper classes and so have a dialect reflective of Standard Scottish English. However many Scottish people speak in what is called Scots and will tend to say “nae” for “not.” So, instead of the word “cannot,” the Scots would say “cannae.” Similarly, “do not” becomes “dinnae’. By the upper classes such as those more affluent and living in Edinburgh, saying ‘nae’ and speaking in Scots is viewed as inferior as it diverges from the standard English which is the overt prestige form and so, supposedly, indicates status. Such pronunciation is commonly heard in places like Glasgow, large and generally working class. This means that ‘nae’ and other lexis of the Scots dialect lead to people being wrongly perceived as working class, uneducated and in some cases as violent, like a drunken Scotsman.

 

fut

 

The Vowel of foot appears in cup in the Midlands and North of England-The foot–strut split is the split of Middle English short /u/ into two distinct phonemes /ʊ/ (as in foot) and /ʌ/ (as in strut) that occurs in most varieties of English; the most notable exceptions being those of Northern England and the English Midlands. The first clear description of the split dates from 1644. The fact that the /ʊ/ sound of ‘put’, ‘could’ used in standard RP English is used for words like ‘strut’ and ‘cup’ too in regions of Northern England and the Midlands e.g. Manchester and Birmingham, rather than having split like speakers of standard English to pronounce the word ‘strut’ with a /ʌ/ sound shows a example of possible covert prestige. Although it is not considered standard and often by many, especially in Southern England, considered inferior, those who speak in such a way have diverged, looking to obtain covert prestige and hoping to distinguish and maintain their own separate identity like the native Martha’s Vineyard speakers observed by Labov.

 

youse

 

Scouse is the name given to the accent and dialect found in Merseyside, England and most commonly linked with the city in that area, Liverpool. It is a very distinctive accent with many differences in pronunciation compared to nearby regions and cities like Manchester. Examples of this accent include the tendency to say the second person plural ‘you’ as ‘youz’, to vary the rising and falling of intonation a lot more than other Northern accents, and to realise the phoneme /k/ in all positions of a word except the beginning as /x/ or sometimes /kx/. The ‘Scouse’ or Liverpudlian accent is a very recognisable accent but not one that is often admired. Scouse is frequently ridiculed and it is satirised on TV programmes. Due to the fact that Liverpool is largely working to middle class, anyone who shows such features mentioned above in the way that they speak is subject to immediate judgement which is usually negative. Upper class RP speakers are especially wary of this accent.

come

The use of the non-standard come, as in “I come down here yesterday”, appears to depend on the gender of the speaker who is using it. It functions as a marker of vernacular culture for adolescents girls, but for the boys, it is used 100% of the time in their speech, no matter how much they adhere to the vernacular culture, and so is an invariant feature of their speech. However, both come and ain’t appear to act as markers as vernacular culture for the girls. Both features were used less by the girls who were classed as ‘good’ and for the girls who were deemed to have a similar vernacular identity to that of the boys, they were used almost 90% of the time.

do

The works of Cheshire in 1978 and Aitchison in 1981 suggest that the non-standardauxiliary do is undergoing a linguistic change away from an earlier dialect form and instead is moving more towards the standard English form. Of all the features examined, only the non-standard auxiliary do was used more often by the girls examined than the boys, however, this feature is undergoing linguistic change. All the other features are used less often by the girls, possibly because the girls who were observed did not form such structured peer groups as the boys, and so their vernacular culture was not as clearly defined.

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