The Wordsmith's Sweet Shop: The Language of J.K. Rowling & Harry Potter

I have never been one for trends. Even when I caught on to this “trend,” it was late, and it was in my own way. So there I was, midnight June 21, 2003, standing among three thousand people waiting to get a 900-page book. Two years later, I was there again, getting its sequel, a mere 780 or so pages. There was no escaping the title then – I was, in fact, a Potterhead.

My fascination with the ink-and-paper children of J.K. Rowling started on somewhat of a whim. The daughter of a good friend was re-reading Goblet of Fire for the fifth or sixth time, and I asked her what the appeal was. “Every word of it,” was her reply. I gave it a whirl; there have been few tomes that have enchanted me as much, word by word. Some of my favorite novelists are L.M Montgomery (Anne of Green Gables), Jane Austen, and Charles Dickens if he had a better editor. I had no expectations that Rowling would be in their league. She isn’t – she invented her own. Within this sphere is a treat for wordsmiths akin to her Honeydukes Sweet Shop – despite a few literary pitfalls and yucks (blood-flavored lollipops, perchance) she has invented hundreds of new words, dusted a “children’s book” with legend, myth, allegory and allusion, infused it with semantic and etymological quests and clues, and started a phenomenon I like to call “the inevitable lightness of reading.”

Like the vampire suckers and vomit-flavored jelly beans, there are a few things Rowling does with language in the Harry Potter (hereinafter “HP”) series that I cock an eyebrow at. First among these are her many clichés and tired metaphors. Harold Bloom of Yale University was in particular frustrated by her overuse of the expression “stretched [their] legs” rather than walk. In fact, he hash marked nearly thirty-six occasions in Philosopher’s Stone alone before giving up. (Bloom, 2003) Also, characters never just get up and get dressed, they always “get dressed at top speed.” (King, 2003) This first installment in the HP series took me the longest to read – two weeks, compared to no more than two days for the others, including the 900-pager – and I think it is not representative of the quality of writing in the rest of the series. In her defense, she had to set up a whole world, way of life, school, and a load of characters in this book, and still write it in such a way as to make the reader want to check out the sequels. Then there is an issue that plagues all her writing – the fault first brought to my attention by Stephen King. Rowling definitely has a fondness for adverbs. In fact, he mentions it in his review of the fifth installment, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix:

“The part of speech that indicates insecurity... is the adverb, and Ms. Rowling seems to have never met one she didn’t like, especially when it comes to dialogue attribution. Harry’s godfather, Sirius, speaks “exasperatedly”; Mrs. Weasley speaks “sharply”; Tonks (a clumsy witch with punked-up particolor hair) speaks “earnestly”; As for Harry himself, he speaks quietly, automatically, nervously, slowly, and often – given his current case of raving adolescence – ANGRILY… And if by the end of chapter three we don’t know that Harry Potter is one utterly, completely, and pervasively angry young man, we haven’t been paying attention.” (King, 2003)

My own investigations concur – she does average about eight to ten adverbs per page. On page 133 of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, the sixth book, there are nine, and only the last three are necessary for semantic or mood/plot/characterization purposes: inquiringly, briefly, irritably, directly, slightly, carefully, firstly, secondly, and only. Does this take away from her overall ability as a writer? I don’t think so, and King agrees with me:

“These minor flaws are endearing rather than annoying; they are the logical side-effect of a natural storyteller who is obviously bursting with crazily vivid ideas and having the time of her life.” (King, ibid.)

One of the most magical things (pun intended) about these “crazily vivid ideas” in Rowling’s work are the made-up words, and there are scads of them – the Fizzing Whizzbees of her literary sweet shop. Many are derivations of other words or compounds created from other languages, and/or have taken on new and unique meanings in her books. Words like Quidditch, Gobstones, and Exploding Snap describe games popular in the wizarding world. Then there are the spells: Wingardium Leviosa (levitation of objects), accio (summoning charm), nox (lights out), lumos (lights on), sectum sempra (an evil slashing spell), and my new favorite from Half-Blood Prince, levicorpus (which hangs its victim upside down by the ankle.) Most of these spells are based on Latin terms:

“Wingardium Leviosa "wing" + "arduus" L. high, steep + "levo" L. to raise up, levitate

Accio "accio" L. send for, summon

Nox "nox" L. night

Lumos "lumen" L. light

Levicorpus "levo" L. to lift up, raise + "corpus" L. body

Sectum sempra "sectus" L. past participle of "seco", to cut "sempra" L. always”

(www.hp-lexicon.org, Encyclopedia of Spells)

In addition to the spells, there are the places. They are a hair’s-breadth from reality, hidden behind ordinary objects and overlooked places like dumpsters, out-of-order phone booths (hiding the Ministry of Magic, of all things) and behind run-down pubs, like Diagon Alley, the wizard marketplace. If you pronounce it like a London native, you’ll hear its origin: it runs diagonally. Then there is the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry itself, Hogwarts, whose gates are flanked by winged pigs (suggesting, perhaps, that if magic occurs when pigs fly, well… there you have it.) The motto of the school employs Latin again: Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus, or Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon.

More than the words are some of the new and meaningful ways Rowling manipulates them; like the chocolate frogs, you enjoy the candy, but really want the famous wizard trading cards beneath it. In the years between installments, thousands avidly re-read each volume for clues to what will befall the characters next – and the books are packed with these clues, if you know where to look. Galadriel Waters wrote a series of books to help readers find these clues. Mugglenet, the most popular HP fan website, features forums, chats, editorials (recognized as brilliant by Rowling herself) and lists and lists of clues submitted by readers that point toward either things that eventually happen in the books or that they suspect will happen in the books to come. For example, Rowling’s use of onomatopoeia and words that evoke sound – clanging bells, sing-song voices – signal the vital clue needed to get past Fluffy, the enormous three-headed dog that is guarding the entrance to the Philosopher’s Stone. (Rowling, Philosopher’s Stone 1997) Order of the Phoenix (OotP) is peppered with “death clues,” that when considered together point to the eventual betrayal and demise of major character Sirius Black:

* On page 60 of the American edition of OotP just as they enter number twelve Grimmauld Place, it says "The other's hushed voices were giving Harry an odd feeling of foreboding; it was as though they had just entered the house of a dying man."

* On Harry's first night at Grimmauld Place, the entire house sits down to dinner. In total, thirteen of them eat together. According to Trelawney in PoA (Prisoner of Azkaban), when thirteen people dine together, the first one to rise is the first to die. No prizes for guessing who rises first here: "Sirius started to rise from his chair.

* In St. Mungo’s, when they are going to visit Mr. Weasley- 'They climbed a flight of stairs and entered the "Creature-Induced Injuries" corridor, where the second door on the right bore the words 'DANGEROUS' DAI LLEWELLYN WARD: SERIOUS BITES.' If you put these words on a sign, they would read:
Creature-Induced Injuries
Dangerous
Dai Llewellyn Ward
Serious Bites
Take the first word of each of these and what do you get? Creature Dangerous Dai Serious? No - Kreacher dangerous, Die Sirius...

* A lot of people say that Sirius' Animagus form (big, black, shaggy dog) is uncannily similar to the Grim and so his death was coming from when we first met him in PoA.

(www.mugglenet.com/books/deathclues5.shtml)

Rowling also borrows language from myth and legend, infusing her words and her clues with them. Dave Kopel, in his article “Deconstructing Rowling,” outlines these allegories and allusions, comparing their invention and use to that of Oxford’s famous Inklings, J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, among others. Many of these appear in the proper names she invents: Draco (dragon) Malfoy (bad magic, or bad fairy); Hermione, (“well-born”, which many in the wizard world think she actually isn’t, coming from non- magic parents, and Hermione in Shakespeare’s A Winter’s Tale turns to stone, as does this one in Chamber of Secrets); Albus (white) Dumbledore (bumblebee in Old English); Weasley (allusion to weasel, an animal considered as unlucky as the so-named character’s red hair); Rita Skeeter (the annoying reporter who is buzzing around and can turn into a beetle); and my favorite, Fawkes, the phoenix, who is set ablaze and rises from his own ashes like the Chinese legend. (Whether this is a direct reference to the link between Guy Fawkes Day and its modern incarnation, Bonfire Night, I can’t be certain, but Dumbledore, Fawkes’ owner, is often at odds with the government, and is betrayed utterly at the end of Half-Blood Prince.)

On a purely ordinary level, the language of Ms. Rowling serves to bridge the gap between British and American English, though arguably without intending to do so. The first book was called Sorcerer’s Stone in the United States, and much of the “Briticisms” were changed by the editors at Scholastic for the benefit of the American reader. Subsequent volumes have gone to no such trouble – my theory is that the popularity of the British editions bought by Americans on the internet who wanted “the real deal” swayed publishers to change little in volumes two through six. (I myself own a copy of Philosopher’s Stone for this very reason, and to thumb my nose at the British notion of the ignorant American reader.) The fan fiction website, www.fictionalley.org features a “tutorial” for non-Brits to make their English souns more “canon,” or in tune with how Rowling originally wrote. There are leagues of Americans who now understand words like “trolley” (cart), telly (television); loo (bathroom); hosepipe (garden hose); garden (yard, including the lawn, not just the special plantings parts); boot (trunk of a car) and they can use expressions like “bloody awful,” “git,” “blimey,” “mum” for mom, and my favorite, “nutters” for crazy.
So how does this magical, adverb-laden, clue-filled allegorical jaunt through six and eventually seven “children’s” books challenge this college-educated reader? On the surface, they do not. If I were to compare my experiences with Harry Potter to another book on my list, considered more of a classic – say, Charles Dickens’s A Tale of Two Cities -- I could never whip through and absorb the essence of Carton, Darnay and Manette with the speed I did that of Potter, Weasley and Granger. But, as I have often admitted to students wading through Dickens, I had to read A Tale of Two Cities four times before I loved it, because the fourth time, I knew what to skip. Dickens was quite popular in his day, too, but he was paid by the word. Rowling is a very rich woman, but not for this reason – although you might guess that, given the size of the last three volumes published. What challenges me personally about her books, and makes me want to read them over and over, is simply this: I want to know her secrets, how she hid them, how she crafted the tale, and drink in every word, every allusion, every obscure reference. It is the first set of books I have re-read and not wanted to skip a single word. J.K Rowling writes a new kind of classic, one that teaches, inspires and illuminates the language without bogging it down. (In fact, her myriad descriptions of food alone beats most of Dickens, where frankly people are always wanting more.) This is what I deemed “the inevitable lightness of reading” – the plain and simple fact that these books, as “easy” as they seem to some to read compared to other books considered classics, are actually read voluntarily, over and over again by millions of people, child and adult alike. Whether we like it or not, Rowling’s language will be a part of our philological legacy.

So will I be standing in line when volume seven is released? Like as not. I would stand in line for another work of Dickens, too, however, and not simply because he has been dead for a hundred years or so. All commercial success aside, Rowling’s Harry will undoubtedly take his place beside Alice, Dorothy, Frodo, and Aslan someday, when some new author rankles the literary chains of Yale intellectuals. And someone, somewhere will write a paper which claims, “So-and-so is good, but he’s no J.K Rowling.”

Works Cited

Bloom, Harold, “Dumbing Down American Readers,” Boston Globe Online 24 September 2003. 28 Nov. 2005 http://www.boston.com/news/globe/editorial_opinion/oped/articles/2003/09/24/dumbing_down_american_readers/

King, Stephen “King Takes a Shining to J.K. Rowling’s Delightfully Dark Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix” Entertainment Weekly, 11 July 2003. 1 Dec. 2005 http://www.hpana.com/news.16002.html

Kopel, David “Deconstructing Rowling” National Review Online, 20 June 2003. 3 Dec. 2005 http://www.davekopel.com/NRO/2003/Deconstructing-Rowling.htm

Mugglenet:The ULTIMATE Harry Potter site, Emerson et al. 1999-2005. 30 Nov. 2005 www.mugglenet.com

The Harry Potter Lexicon, c. 2000-2005 2 Dec. 2005 http://www.hp-lexicon.org/

Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. London: Bloomsbury, 1997

Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. New York: Scholastic/Arthur Levine Press, 1998

Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. New York: Scholastic/Arthur Levine Press, 1999

Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. New York: Scholastic/Arthur Levine Press, 2000

Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. New York: Scholastic/Arthur Levine Press, 2003

Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. New York: Scholastic/Arthur Levine Press, 2005

Dining in Dialect

Billy Joel - New York State Of Mind

Some folks like to get away, take a holiday from the neighborhood
Hop a flight to Miami Beach  or Hollywood.
I'm taking a Greyhound on the Hudson River line-
I'm in a New York state of mind.

I seen all the movie stars in their fancy cars and their
limousines,
Been high in  the Rockies under the evergreens,
But I know what I'M needing and I don't want to waste more time-
I'm in a New York state of mind.

It was so easy living day by day
Out of touch with the rhythm and the blues,
But now I need a little give and take,
The New York Times, the Daily News...

It comes down to reality-and it's fine with me 'cause I've let
it slide,
Don't care if it's Chinatown or Riverside,
I  don't have any reasons, I've left them all behind-
I'm in a New York state of mind.

A native New Yorker once told me that if you want to see the world, and only have one day to do it, just go to Times Square. Well, I have yet to ever be there in person. But I have read a ton, seen a ton on TV and in movies, and heard stories from people who lived there. I also had to coach a bunch of students from Luxemburg-Casco High School on how to speak with New York accents this fall as they prepared for the hilarious musical, Lucky Stiff.

So, for our Dining In Dialect food extravaganza, I am bringing the following: A pasta dish, for little Italy, pickles, Kosher style (mustn't leave out our Chaunukah friends, lest you get schpilkus in your geneckdigazoink (sp)) edamame (a soybean appetizer -- not only good, it's good for you) for Chinatown, and fake champagne for all the diva's in Manhattan. I am also bringing Dutch-filled cookies, in honor of the people who originally owned New Amsterdam, and gaves us such words as cookie, candy, brandy, frolic and Santa Claus from Sinterklaas (="Saint Nicholas")

Good English on the Cheap

In my quest for wanting to represent a great review of Geoffrey Nunberg's The Way We Talk Now, I realize that doing it essay by essay has not been a good plan. There is no way I can comment on all of the topics he has touched on. Therefore, what I have here in this blog is more of a highlights reel. I have deliberately chosen topics which were relevant to either class discussions or to personal research for this course -- beyond that, my choices are decidedly arbitrary.

This week I want to comment on "Standard Issue," which deals with the 1997 eruption in the Oakland, CA School system about Ebonics and whether we should treat it as a second language or force students to learn the language of Shakespeare, Angelou, Updike, Baldwin, and Whitman at all. Nunberg argues that the language these kids need to learn "in order to enter the cultural and economic mainstream has nothing to do with these high-flown models -- it's the semigrammatical, jargon-strewn talk that you hear in corporate conference rooms or on the floor of Congress." He goes on to assert that:

"... when corporate cheifs or government officals do find themselves in need of a little eloquence, they can just go out and hire it on the cheap. At a rough estimate the ability to write correct and lucid English has a market value in modern America about one-third as great as the ability to install Windows on a PC. " (p.120)

It is this --subplot, for lack of a better word, to this essay that I take issue with. According to the arbitrary rules of English grammar, I just committed a sin by ending that sentence with a preposition. I agree that perfect English is not always of paramount importance. But to imply that you can get it on the cheap is an insult. Here's why: Just last night, I spent several hours helping my sister with her entrance essays to a college professional program. Of course, I charged her nothing. But people are asking me to write things all the time. When I was teaching, if something needed to be written and "profound" -- like, say, for a Mass -- at the last minute, I was a go-to person. I was honored -- flattered, even -- but never got paid an extra dime. Writers are among the starving artists of this word for precisely the reasons Nunberg asserts; being able to write and be understood is an assumed skill that we are all taught in school. No one thinks it is particularly fee-worthy. But not everyone on earth can write well. Correctly -- this is something I think is attainable by most people. To write well takes a vested interest in the craft of writing, not just getting from point a to b on paper. This is further exacerbated by the fact that every Madonna, Glick and Harry in Hollywood think they can write memoirs or children's books, never pausing to think that people are buying their books not because they are good or well written, but because someone famous wrote them or they have bawdy photos. (A dare in my undergrad days to digest Madonna's Sex cover-to-cover made me want to hurl -- not only from the subject matter, but from the less than seventh grade command of the English language this material girl seemed to have. Note that her next literary effort was a picture book. )

Do I think it is the responsibility of schools to make every effort to teach students how to effectively manipulate the English Language? YES. Does this mean that we can all be Vonneguts, Fitzgeralds, or even Dan Browns? No way. That said, despite the fact that I have yet to be paid a brass farthing for my writing, I still assert that I have already left Mrs. Ritchie in the proverbial literary dust.

Slang-a-lang-a-ding-dong Merrily on High

Nunberg on slang, part deux
"Is that your snum? I'll gully the dag and bimbole the clicky in a snuffkin."
This quote from Thakeray's Vanity Fair pokes fun at the myriad of slang terms that were all the rage in Victorian society. Slang terms for readers of that era were used to color the underworld of society, the language of theives, pickpockets, thugs, and persons of ill repute. Slang was "the repository of all the violent and erotic currents that repsectable society could not acknowledge in itself, and it provided names for all the things that respectable people found literally unspeakable."(p.62)
This feeling of salacious evil in words described in Nunbergs "The Decline of Slang" prevailed until about the Jazz Age, in the 1930's, when the language of gangsters in the movies made such language both universially accessible and, well, cool. Today, though, Nunberg suggests that slang is the language of the middle class, borrowing from below and above, but permeated throughout:
"It is the language of hippies, surfers, hot-tubbers, yuppies, druggies, swingers, hackers, and the rest...Slang doesn't hint at forbidden mysteries anymore." (p.63)

To a certain extent, I think he is wrong. All craziness about Ebonics a few years ago aside, there is still a sense, at least in academia (where I have been the last -- well, all but one year of my life) of "proper" English versus "street" language. F-bombs are still bleeped from seconds-delayed programming. Teachers do not encourage students to speak like most of the rap artists and professional football players they worship. On the flip side, artists pick on people who have not earned their "street cred," as if having run-ins with the law and/or swearing frequently and exploring certain topics not covered in Ladies Home Journal in your art make you somehow more credible as a performer. Maybe these things do -- I cannot pretend to know as I dislike most artforms where this is a requirement. One artist argued that is was the language of a persecuted people (the poor, mostly African-Americans in his example.)
It makes me wonder if my people, the Irish, who had it worse at times than anyone on earth, required "street cred" before people were allowed to perform their music or recite Yeats or Joyce. And I didn't see a smattering of it in Long Walk to Freedom, the autobiography of Nelson Mandela. This could be a PhD dissertation!

The last in this Slang-fest series is "The Rebirth of Cool."
"In 1957 [Norman] Mailer estimated that there were a hundred thousand hipsters in America; now you'd be hard put to find that many squares. Is everybody cool here? Solid." (p.75)
This essay focuses specifically on the phenomenon of the word "cool." Here Nunberg cites Norman Mailer's famous essay "The White Negro" wherein he decribes people who snapped on the upbeats and used phrases like "that cat's really on his groove, dad." While other words used in hipster lingo seem to have died out, cool is "eternal." (p.74) He notes the variations: uncool (1970's), way cool (1980's) , cool in names in the 90's like Coolio and Kool Moe Dee, and "terminal cool," which is cool used in everyday everything -- click here for cool stuff. (ibid.)

Here, I have to agree with Nunberg. Cool never did go away -- it has morphed, perhaps, but I know I still use it. And it will live on in new generations. One of my daughter's favorite websites, www.noggin.com, features a pigeon pattern game with Bert from Sesame Street. When she gets a pattern completed correctly, the pigeons dance, cooing, "cool pattern, cool pattern." Brooke, at age three and a half, already associates the word cool with something positive, something she would like. This time of year she likes to see the holiday displays as I shop. Upon seeing this year's lights for the first time, she said, "That's cool, momma."
The rebirth of cool, indeed.

Slang-a-lang-a-ding-dong

There are four essays on slang words in Geoffrey Nunberg's The Way We Talk Now: "An Interjection for the Age", on buzz words; "Generation Z and Counting," on when people use slang; "The Decline of Slang," on the history of some slang terms, and "The Rebirth of Cool," on how slang has been used. I have decided to talk about all of these in two posts for two reasons:1) they are interrelated, and I am always in search of literary brevity (sadly it eludes me often, see other posts in this blog for proof of same), and 2) I have not had opportunity to post in a few weeks, and thought I would "catch up" a bit with this one.

The first one, "Interjection," began with a discussion of a generational shift in slang interjections. Most people under 30 for at least a portion of the 1990's is familiar with the term "whatever," which Nunberg describes as "the signal [of] your sublime indifference to what your interlocutor is trying to say to you." (p.27) Nunberg was not aware of the hand-signal that went with it, though, as those of us who have seen Clueless (Amy Heckerling's send-up of Jane Austen's Emma) no doubt were. He goes on to talk about the ages of interjective slang: the 50's had solid, the 60's had far out, and the 70's had "yo!" He argued that "whatever" lacked warmth, and was the sign of a disaffected adolescent tendency which is often associated with us Gen-X'ers. To this, I have to say, he has a point. There are a lot of people in my generation who have little going on in the belfry that I would call deep, and those same folks have some amazing apathy. BUT (*author about to preach, you have been warned*) I will take my generations general ennui over Generation Y and M's utter self-centeredness and learned helplessness any day of the disaffected week. We make ourselves miserable with apathy, but do not try to harm or annoy others.
I digress. My younger sisters, who are both in their early 20's and part of this generation, are not like this, although they do use the "whatever," moreso than I do. But it raises an interesting question -- what do our slang choices say about us? And what would you think of my Gramma, who would have been 86 last week, who was fond of saying, "whatever blows your skirt up?"

Generation Z and Counting

This piece was an insightful essay on how modern slang is being used to sell itself back to the young people that originally used it. Marketing nowadays is so aimed at the 15 to 39 age group, with a heavy emphasis on the lower end of that clump, that, argues Nunberg, "you can still find people who deplore the way kids dress and talk nowadays, but it's a safe bet they don't work for Ford or Nike or the Gap. " So I decided to conduct a little experiment -- I watched television for ten minutes, or two commercial breaks, and counted the slang terms used.
Terms I might consider slang include: (slang in this case meaning they make sense to an English speaker who lives in the culture they are used, but would confuse in translation)
Look out: as in step aside world, here I come -- selling RA medication
showing someone the moves: selling laser levels
"it" -- whatever it is, get it on e-bay
beats all you ever saw : meaning the best ever, from the Dukes of Hazzard theme, used to sell ring tones
right -- used as a repetitive affirmation, US cellular
that's (y)our thing : UPS
Baby, I love your way : Wendy's new order how you like it system

Now, I was watching Neil Simon's The Goodbye Girl on TNT late at night -- so the demographic for these commercials was decidedly older. So I decided to torture myself a bit and watch programming aimed at tweens and teens. The difference is noted; slang is used in nearly every commercial, and on Comedy Central, often the programs use bleeped expletives. I don't watch a lot of this because if the TV is on during the day, my 3-year-old is around.

More than this, a more learned student of psychology would probably explore the idea that having so much aimed at this demographic -- the members of which are not all what society considers mature as yet -- is influencing more than consumerism. Consider the dilemma we have in the classroom with Generation M -- the "gotta have it my way, and gotta have it now" kid who openly thumb their nose at authority, citing their "rights." Are we going to end up teaching all of them and their progeny English as a kind of second language?
Like, I hope not. What- ever.

Deep Thoughts: From the Fuzzy Memories Series

With apologies to Jack Handy....

Once a flee wys stukke yn the ful hare vf my scool techre. We laghed ys she tryd to bat it. At last I biseched all, "no more bug murthre!" and I cutt her hare uff. An "a" that gaer was deffended me.

Now, in modern English:

Once a fly got stuck in the hair of my teacher. My class laughed as she tried to bat it away from her. At last I begged her, "no more bug toture!" And I cut off all her hair. I was denied an "A" that year.

Based on a true story, all but the abrupt haircut part.

A Bone for the Groundlings

As per this weeks challenge: I could not post but one, here are my favorite two.

One of my favorite scenes from two of my favorite characters in all of Shakespeare: Benedick and Beatrice from Much Ado About Nothing. This scene, from Act One, scene one, establishes what is earlier described by Signior Leonato as the "merry war betwixt them." My former students, Lauren Pockl and Tony Shimek, performed what is still my favorite version of this in 2000.

BEATRICE
I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior
Benedick: nobody marks you.

BENEDICK
What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living?

BEATRICE
Is it possible disdain should die while she hath
such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick?
Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come
in her presence.

BENEDICK
Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I
am loved of all ladies, only you excepted: and I
would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard
heart; for, truly, I love none.

BEATRICE
A dear happiness to women: they would else have
been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God
and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that: I
had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man
swear he loves me.

BENEDICK
God keep your ladyship still in that mind! so some
gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate
scratched face.

BEATRICE
Scratching could not make it worse, an 'twere such
a face as yours were.

BENEDICK
Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.

BEATRICE
A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.

BENEDICK
I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and
so good a continuer. But keep your way, i' God's
name; I have done.

BEATRICE
You always end with a jade's trick: I know you of old.

And now, per Prof. Maltman's request, the same passage in the original Elizabethan English:

From the First Folio

Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, signior

Benedicke, no body markes you

   Ben. What my deere Ladie Disdaine! are you yet

liuing?

  Beat. Is it possible Disdaine should die, while shee

hath such meete foode to feede it, as Signior Benedicke?

Curtesie it selfe must conuert to Disdaine, if you come in

her presence

   Bene. Then is curtesie a turne-coate, but it is certaine

I am loued of all Ladies, onely you excepted: and

I would I could finde in my heart that I had not a hard

heart, for truely I loue none

   Beat. A deere happinesse to women, they would else

haue beene troubled with a pernitious Suter, I thanke

God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that, I

had rather heare my Dog barke at a Crow, than a man

sweare he loues me

   Bene. God keepe your Ladiship still in that minde,

so some Gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate

scratcht face

   Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, and 'twere

such a face as yours were

   Bene. Well, you are a rare Parrat teacher

   Beat. A bird of my tongue, is better than a beast of

your

   Ben. I would my horse had the speed of your tongue,

and so good a continuer, but keepe your way a Gods

name, I haue done

   Beat. You alwaies end with a Iades tricke, I know

you of old

My other favorite is from the same play, but concerns the scene Shakespeare likely wrote to please the groundlings -- those salts of the earth who occupied the less desirable standing-room-only spots in the center of the Globe, happily being rained on if needs be by the time act V rolled around. This scene, from Act Four, Scene two, involves the interrogation of two liars by Dogberry, the local counstable, who is described later by the Prince, Don Pedro, as "too brilliant to be understood." Note that in the first folio, he is not referred to by name, simply as "keeper." I am uncertain as to when exactly the name "Dogberry" appeared. You can imagine the meaning of the name -- the Aussie's have their own special name for such a thing on a sheep -- a dag.
And again, I have a favorite performance of this -- Jill Daubner and Katie Tierney from the same class. (Jill's brother, Jon, actually popped out of the audience and played the Sextant when one of our actors fell ill at the last second. The result was more than I could have arranged!) Their class had 11 girls and 3 boys, and these two bravely took on the comic parts of Dogberry and Verges, adding their own inspired visual humor including strange hair and a curtain call with a half-eaten apple. I still giggle when I think of their dancing in the revelling scenes.

Act 4, Scene II

SCENE II. A prison.

Enter DOGBERRY, VERGES, and Sexton, in gowns; and the Watch, with CONRADE and BORACHIO
DOGBERRY
Is our whole dissembly appeared?

VERGES
O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton.

Sexton
Which be the malefactors?

DOGBERRY
Marry, that am I and my partner.

VERGES
Nay, that's certain; we have the exhibition to examine.

Sexton
But which are the offenders that are to be
examined? let them come before master constable.

DOGBERRY
Yea, marry, let them come before me. What is your
name, friend?

BORACHIO
Borachio.

DOGBERRY
Pray, write down, Borachio. Yours, sirrah?

CONRADE
I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade.

DOGBERRY
Write down, master gentleman Conrade. Masters, do
you serve God?

CONRADE BORACHIO
Yea, sir, we hope.

DOGBERRY
Write down, that they hope they serve God: and
write God first; for God defend but God should go
before such villains! Masters, it is proved already
that you are little better than false knaves; and it
will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer
you for yourselves?

CONRADE
Marry, sir, we say we are none.

DOGBERRY
A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you: but I
will go about with him. Come you hither, sirrah; a
word in your ear: sir, I say to you, it is thought
you are false knaves.

BORACHIO
Sir, I say to you we are none.

DOGBERRY
Well, stand aside. 'Fore God, they are both in a
tale. Have you writ down, that they are none?

Sexton
Master constable, you go not the way to examine:
you must call forth the watch that are their accusers.

DOGBERRY
Yea, marry, that's the eftest way. Let the watch
come forth. Masters, I charge you, in the prince's
name, accuse these men.

First Watchman
This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince's
brother, was a villain.

DOGBERRY
Write down Prince John a villain. Why, this is flat
perjury, to call a prince's brother villain.

BORACHIO
Master constable,--

DOGBERRY
Pray thee, fellow, peace: I do not like thy look,
I promise thee.

Sexton
What heard you him say else?

Second Watchman
Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of
Don John for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully.

DOGBERRY
Flat burglary as ever was committed.

VERGES
Yea, by mass, that it is.

Sexton
What else, fellow?

First Watchman
And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to
disgrace Hero before the whole assembly. and not marry her.

DOGBERRY
O villain! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting
redemption for this.

Sexton
What else?

Watchman
This is all.

Sexton
And this is more, masters, than you can deny.
Prince John is this morning secretly stolen away;
Hero was in this manner accused, in this very manner
refused, and upon the grief of this suddenly died.
Master constable, let these men be bound, and
brought to Leonato's: I will go before and show
him their examination.

Exit

DOGBERRY
Come, let them be opinioned.

VERGES
Let them be in the hands--

CONRADE
Off, coxcomb!

DOGBERRY
God's my life, where's the sexton? let him write
down the prince's officer coxcomb. Come, bind them.
Thou naughty varlet!

CONRADE
Away! you are an ass, you are an ass.

DOGBERRY
Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not
suspect my years? O that he were here to write me
down an ass! But, masters, remember that I am an
ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not
that I am an ass. No, thou villain, thou art full of
piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness.
I am a wise fellow, and, which is more, an officer,
and, which is more, a householder, and, which is
more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in
Messina, and one that knows the law, go to; and a
rich fellow enough, go to; and a fellow that hath
had losses, and one that hath two gowns and every
thing handsome about him. Bring him away. O that
I had been writ down an ass!

Exeunt

And now, per Prof. Maltman's request, the same passage in the original Elizabethan English:

Same scene, from the first folio:

Enter the Constables, Borachio, and the Towne Clerke in gownes.

  Keeper. Is our whole dissembly appeard?

  Cowley. O a stoole and a cushion for the Sexton

   Sexton. Which be the malefactors?

  Andrew. Marry that am I, and my partner

   Cowley. Nay that's certaine, wee haue the exhibition

to examine

   Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be examined,

let them come before master Constable

   Kemp. Yea marry, let them come before mee, what is

your name, friend?

  Bor. Borachio

   Kem. Pray write downe Borachio. Yours sirra

   Con. I am a Gentleman sir, and my name is Conrade

   Kee. Write downe Master gentleman Conrade: maisters,

doe you serue God: maisters, it is proued alreadie

that you are little better than false knaues, and it will goe

neere to be thought so shortly, how answer you for your

selues?

  Con. Marry sir, we say we are none

   Kemp. A maruellous witty fellow I assure you, but I

will goe about with him: come you hither sirra, a word

in your eare sir, I say to you, it is thought you are false

knaues

   Bor. Sir, I say to you, we are none

   Kemp. Well, stand aside, 'fore God they are both in

a tale: haue you writ downe that they are none?

  Sext. Master Constable, you goe not the way to examine,

you must call forth the watch that are their accusers

   Kemp. Yea marry, that's the eftest way, let the watch

come forth: masters, I charge you in the Princes name,

accuse these men

   Watch 1. This man said sir, that Don Iohn the Princes

brother was a villaine

   Kemp. Write down, Prince Iohn a villaine: why this

is flat periurie, to call a Princes brother villaine

   Bora. Master Constable

   Kemp. Pray thee fellow peace, I do not like thy looke

I promise thee

   Sexton. What heard you him say else?

  Watch 2. Mary that he had receiued a thousand Dukates

of Don Iohn, for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully

   Kemp. Flat Burglarie as euer was committed

   Const. Yea by th' masse that it is

   Sexton. What else fellow?

  Watch 1. And that Count Claudio did meane vpon his

words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and

not marry her

   Kemp. O villaine! thou wilt be condemn'd into euerlasting

redemption for this

   Sexton. What else?

  Watch. This is all

   Sexton. And this is more masters then you can deny,

Prince Iohn is this morning secretly stolne away: Hero

was in this manner accus'd, in this very manner refus'd,

and vpon the griefe of this sodainely died: Master Constable,

let these men be bound, and brought to Leonato,

I will goe before, and shew him their examination

   Const. Come, let them be opinion'd

   Sex. Let them be in the hands of Coxcombe

   Kem. Gods my life, where's the Sexton? let him write

downe the Princes Officer Coxcombe: come, binde them

thou naughty varlet

   Couley. Away, you are an asse, you are an asse

   Kemp. Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not

suspect my yeeres? O that hee were heere to write mee

downe an asse! but masters, remember that I am an asse:

though it be not written down, yet forget not y I am an

asse: No thou villaine, y art full of piety as shall be prou'd

vpon thee by good witnesse, I am a wise fellow, and

which is more, an officer, and which is more, a houshoulder,

and which is more, as pretty a peece of flesh as any in

Messina, and one that knowes the Law, goe to, & a rich

fellow enough, goe to, and a fellow that hath had losses,

and one that hath two gownes, and euery thing handsome

about him: bring him away: O that I had been writ

downe an asse!

Le Temps a Laisse son (Port)manteau

"Portmanteau Words," another essay from Nunberg's the Way We Talk Now, deals with words that were made, not born. Portmanteau words, a term coined by slithy author Lewis Carroll [for more on him, see www.scarlet2snow.blogspot.com ] are words made of parts of two other words, in slithy's case, lithe and slimy. The first American portmanteau word is credited as being the brainchild of painter Gilbert Stuart and a newspaper editor, in regards to a district map of 1811 Massachusetts as proposed by then-governor Elbridge Gerry. Stuart said one district looked more like a salamander. The Editor replied that it looked more like a "gerrymander." (p.85)
Some others:
Dumfound = dumb + confound
twirl = twist + swirl
smog = smoke + fog
motel = motor + hotel
brunch = breakfast + lunch
Since these, which I must confess I thought the first two at least to have always been words in their own right, there has been an explosion, says Nunberg: cineplex, dramedy, sitcom, rockumentary, simulcast, frappuccino, dancercise, etc. He concludes by musing whether or not the creator of gerrymander could forsee a day when "shagadelic would be looking down on us from every billboard." (p.87)

This, of course, got me thinking -- why have speakers and writers of English contributed more of these words to the language in the last 60 years than in the previous 500 years? Part of it seems to be technical in nature, as we look for words to decribe new inventions and modes of delivery. But a lot of them seem to be entertainment based. Some of the more insidious examples from the past few years since Nunberg wrote his essay include: Bennifer, Brangelina, TomKat (all dealing with celebrity relationships), bootylicious, eyecandy, etc. All the examples I can think of, frankly, the English language could have done without. Now, that is not to say that smog does not have its place in the world, and I was amused by Austin Power's use of shagadelic, at least for a time, but, perhaps like the society it reflects, it seems as though the portmanteau words being added of late are a sign of a moral deterioration, or at least a blanket sense of superficiality that strikes fear into the heart of this wordsmith. There are a few cute ones: spanglish, spam, awippsome... and of course blog.

So, to make myself feel better, here are some portmanteau words I am sure are on the reject pile. Can you guess what they are derived from? Highlight the space behind to reveal the answers:
Austenoument (a denoument, Jane Austen style -- i.e. ends in a wedding)
Mothrattorney (why should Godzilla get all the good portmanteaux? A legal attack from above)
wookiewhack (a hairy beating)
tauntaungut (when you feel like you have a frozen jedi in your belly) -- thanks to Jeremy for this one
sesamstupor (When you have had enough of Sesame Street and other toddler programming)

Tune in next week when we examine slang..... all the slings and arrows of it.

Medieval Literature Can Save your Life

http://www.lib.rochester.edu/Camelot/YEAMES.HTM

http://www.lib.rochester.edu/camelot/SGGK.HTM

(The above picture, The Green Knight, is by Ian Brown, http://www.lib.rochester.edu/camelot/images/ianb05.htm)

The above links are to a great site, The Camelot Project, hosted by the University of Rochester. The first is a link to a play based on the tale of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight; the second is a translation of same into readable prose from the 14th century poem of said tale.

The title of this post eludes to a challenge posed to us in this course by our fearless leader -- that being to create a teachable lesson on the material we have covered thus far. Iintrepid fellow knightS of the U-Shaped Table, Nancy and Sarah, have chosen this theme to illustrate the themes of these early masterpieces of English and the great value that they hold for us even today. Specifically, we will be talking about the theme of tolerance (or intolerance) of other cultures as presented in Aurthurian Legend and in Beowulf. We have read in this course that England was a mass menagerie of different peoples: the Celts, Picts, Angles, Saxons, Jutes, Vikings (themselves Danish, Norwegian, Icelandic, Swedes) and eventually the Normans of France. How did all of these cultures -- many of whom took a "pillage first, ask questions later" approach to conquest -- manage to get along? How did they learn to deal with difference? The answers lie in the masterpieces of their combined language. English is a language that was and is a part of all of these cultures. How fitting, then, that it becomes the means of expression of these tales of welcoming (or hunting) the stranger.

In our lesson, we hope to draw parallels between these early struggles -- geographic, cultural, linguistic -- as represented in history and in literature, and the struggles of present-day students in an ever shrinking world. Nancy will engage them in an illustrated discussion of Beowulf, and just what exactly constitutes a "monster." Sarah will further the discussion by having the students act out the opening scene of "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight," where the title characters measure each other up in first impressions. Our lesson would conclude with an open discussion of other interpersonal themes in these stories: love triangles, honesty and loyalty, and vaulting ambition.

Some beleaguered students of history have argued that reading medieval stories can almost kill you. We endeavor to prove that they just might save your life!

Ye Olde Paradise Lost: Genesis in Old English

Click on the above image to see it in a larger size. It was originally translated from Latin by AElfric, one of the chief prose writers of the Old English Period.
And now, my attempt at translation:
1. So furthermore this serpent (adder) was more cunning than all other beasts that God made over the earth, and this serpent said to the woman: "Did God forbid you from eating fruit of every tree in Paradise?"
2. The woman answered: "Of the trees' fruit in Paradise we eateth;
3. And of this tree's fruits there, in the middle of Paradise, God bade us that we not eat, nor should we touch this tree lest we perish."
4. Then said the serpent to the woman: "No, you will be by no means dead, if you eat from that tree.
5. But God knows that your eyes will be opened, whatsoever as eats of this tree, and he will gain wisdom both of good and evil."
6. The the wife saw that this tree was good to eat, and she found the fruit fair and desireable, she gave the tree's fruit to her husband, and they ate it.
7. And both of their eyes were opened, they saw that they were naked and sewed together fig leaves, and wore them as breeches.
8. And the God came, and they heard his voice as he walked through Paradise in midday, so Adam hid, and his wife hid also, from God they hid behind the trees of Paradise.
9. God called to Adam, and said: "Adam, where are you?"
10. He said, "your voice I heard, Sir, in Paradise and it frightened me, for I am naked and I hid myself."
11. God said: "Who said this that you were naked, if you did not eat of that tree that I did forbid you to eat?"
12. Adam said: that woman that you gave me to have, gave to me of that tree, and I ate it."
13. God said to the wife: "what didst you do?" She said, "the serpent tricked me and I ate it."

This, from Genesis, 3:1-13, makes a bold statement in and of itself. Note, though, how it is translated into Old English: this woman you gave to me to have. (Chattel, anyone?) Note also that Adam did not argue with Eve at all -- he just took it and ate it, no questions. And yet who had the 27 hour labor 6,002 years later? ME. Not my husband, not the stupid snake, ME. Of course, God made it up to me a million fold, really -- in a truly wonderful little baby girl. She was worth it.
But Adam? Adam was a moron. And Eve was apparently a parselmouth.

Officially Sanctioned Crib Notes

Notes: Chapter One

Inflection: changes in a word form relating them to one another in a sentence; inflection can be internal (e.g. man to men, sing to sung) plurals, tenses, sub-verb agreement

Concord: (agreement) matching the inflectional ending of one word for a number, gender, case or person with that of another to which it is grammatically related, (e.g. this book, these books)

Word order: signal of an analytic language that often depends on function words in order for users to discern meaning.

Function words: grammatical signal words used with word order to serve some of the same functions as inflections—articles, auxiliaries, conjunctions, prepositions, pronouns, and certain adverbial particles.

Morphemes: free: can be used alone – smallest meaningful linguistic sign that cannot be subdivided

Bound: cannot be used on its own – apple + Jack, 2 free; apple+-s (plural), one free, one bound.

Language changes:

Syntagmatic changes: nearby elements [within a word—e.g. Gramma goose’s sandwich] influence one another in the flow of speech

Paradigmatic changes: (associative): resulting from the influence on an expression of other expressions that might occur instead of it or are otherwise associated with it, as bridegum was changed to bridegroom, shift from lade board to Larboard to port

Social change: caused by change in way of life of its speakers, often the influence of other languages (invaders) or events (google, suicide bomber, Norman words in English)

Dialect: variation of language used by a particular place or social group; ethnic, social level, sex, age, grade, (idolect: unique to each person)

Register: var of lang. Used for a particular purpose or circumstances: sermons, classroom versus MTV.

Whorf Hypothesis: Proposal that the language we use affects the way we respond to the world (i.e. colors – the more words we have for them, the more variant colors we will name and see)

Chapter Two

Consonants classified by manner of articulation:

Stops/plosives: flow of air is stopped and then explodes without vibration (p,k,t)

Fricatives: a narrow opening is made somewhere in the mouth the air must move through(sibilants) (f,v,θ, s, z)

Affricatives: voiced and voiceless two sounds occur, one right after the other, counted as one sound(j)

Nasals: air through nose (m,n, ng)

Liquids: tip of the tongue on the alveolar ridge (l,r)

Vowels: classified by position of tongue vs. roof of mouth : high, mid, low and to position of highest part of tongue. (front, central, back)

diphthong: two vowel sesuqence pronounced by single syllable (sky, right, route [rowt])

tense vs. lax: tense are longer in duration than the closest lax vowel and also higher and less central (I, e,u,o) – current English length of vowels determined by neighboring sounds.

Monopthong: single, simple vowel

Effect of [r] : modifies quality of vowel before it (boat vs. boar)

Types and causes of sound change:

Asssimilation: sounds become more alike (pancake) ; palatizations (whatzyername, omina)

Dissimilation : sounds become less alike (caterpillar)

Elision : Sounds omitted (Galinda to Glinda; family to Fam’ly)

Intrusion: sounds inserted between consonants.

Metathesis: changing the order of sounds (ask – aks)

Substratum cause theory of sound change: different languages collide, and assimilate imperfectly

Languages tend to develop a balanced sound system.

Chapter Three

• writing grows out of drawing, imagistic in nature
• ideographic each word represented by a single symbol (Chinese)
• phonographic each letter represents a sound
• syllabary (rebus poems)

majuscule: capital letters

umlaut: symbols used to describe a specific pronunciation(usually lengthening) of a vowel (o, u)

rune: ancient symbols for sounds used in German, early English, Norse – six letters futhorc name of the alphabet; carved in stone or wood.

Insular hand: the decorative curly fancy writing of Old English monks

Thorn ( ) for (th) and p (wynn) for [w]

Chapter four

IndoEuropean is the language from which most Western languages can be traced. A cognate is a word which shows this ancestry through the ages into the difference languages, such as mithair, mother, mader, mater, etc.

The importance of word order:

Types of Language: (typological : show lang sim and diff)

Isolating ( one word, one idea, one syllable… English is more isolating now)

Agglutinative: words made up of parts whose syllables have clearer meaning

Incorporative: major sentence elements into a single word (Eskimo, Swahili)

Inflectional: suffixes that were once independent words (Old English, Latin)

Modern linguists use genetic classification (see tree)

Grimm’s Law: First Sound Shift

Aspirated voice stop becomes unaspirated voiced stop (bh to b, dh to d) BHATER-BROTHER

Voiceless stops become voiceless fricatives (p,k,t to f, [th], h) [UNLESS BEFORE S] PATER-FATHER

Indo-European voiced stop becomes voiceless stop (b,d,g to p,t,k) ABEL,JABLOKO, APPLE

Where is English on the tree?

Chapter Five:

*Celts invite Angles, Saxons and Jutes to fight picts; (A.D.449)

*St. Augustine of Canterbury brings monks/religion “musc. Lang of field capacity for abstract

thought” given by influence of Latin

*Vikings come in 787; come back in 865 to settle the good lands (eventually 2/3 of England)

*Alfred the Great keeps English alive through scholarship; Danish absorbed as neighbors trade.

Norman Invasion 1066

Traits of English: drive to simplify language – lose inflections to allow communication with Danes; hardy lang by joining with norse and Latin; Normans eventually intermarry English; Normans lose bond with territory across channel.

• handwriting was insular
• meanings changed (dream-joy, dreorig –bloody)
• words vanished (galdor-song, bochord –book hoard)
• Old English was gendered like French
• Inflective to isolating
• Nouns inflected: declensions: inflection of n, pron, adj, for case, number, and definiteness

Declensions are strong or weak (like the n-stem patterns)

• Like modern, OE verbs were weak (adding d or t) or strong (internal changes, sing-sang-sung)

A Pox on Ragnar Lothbrok, by Sarah and Michelle

IN the days of Egil Skalagrimsson, scops sang of Ragnar Lothbrok, and the curse upon his betrothed, Kraka.
She was to wait before being with her bridegroom on her wedding night until the Moon of the Red Blood had waned. Ragnar, however, who had been long at sea and eager for sons, had drunk much mead at the wedding, and was not to be resisted.
"Manna Mildest,"(gentle man) Kraka murmured. "Look ye upon your wyfe with mildheortnesse. (compassion or gentleness)Drink ye more mead and drift to Nod."
"Do not ply me with drink and bring low my mood," Ragnar replied, casting off his shaggy pants.
"But, the curse of heofon (heaven) will befall me! Your child will bend like ye will not!"
Ragnar took his wyfe despite this warning, and drank to his wyrd (fate) until dawn.
Nine months pass, and Ivar is born without bone -- only gristle.
"I told ye so," Kraka begnornodon. (lamented)

Think you can guess the meaning of the Old English words? Highlight the above blanks with your mouse and check it out!
This story was written for class, challenged were we to use only Anglo-Saxon words. I think a few Normanisms snuck in there!

Empires felled by folded hands

When I despair,
I remember that all through history
the ways of truth and love have always won.
There have been tyrants, and murderers,
and for a time they can seem invincible,
but in the end they always fall.

Think of it - always.

mahatma gandhi - early 20th century
http://www.worldprayers.org/

I chose this simple reflection prayer, written by one of the greatest minds and forces for peace in all of history, because I think it provides a good foil for the Gaelic prayer I posted earlier. In this piece, you have the same seemingly indomitable foes that are referenced in the other ones, but instead of armor, swords, and high towers, here your defense is positive thought, and knoweldge of your own ability to choose what is right, and stand by it.

These two prayers have something else in common. The first speaks of a vision that is sought by the penitent writer. This second prayer illustrates this vision, in its best form. Gandhi says in simple words and language what the seeker should be envisioning, in despair and in battle. I also appreciate Gandhi's choice of verbs; note that for himself, he chooses verbs of reflection: despair, remember, think, but for the greater concepts of truth and love he chooses won, and for tyrants and murderers he chooses fall, both of which have a larger-than-life sort of flavor to them. Gandhi's was a cause against incredible odds, and with incredible methods -- passive resistance. Perhaps it is knowing this about him that makes this prayer so powerful in its brevity and simplicity.

He ends with the one word all people who pray want associated with prayers answered: always.

Question from the stack of blue cards

One of the questions James Lipton always asks his guests on Inside the Actor's Studio is "What is your favorite word?"Apparently Bernard Pivot, who had a prime-time literary interview program at one point, would ask the same question, and was often dissapointed with the answers. Geoffrey Nunberg certainly was in his section of The Way We Talk Now entitled "A Few of My Favorite Words."

The point he makes is that the choice the politician threw out there -- peace -- was a great concept, but not much of a word. He goes on to explain that there is some debate as to how the impression of the sound of a word is colored by meaning. Some he sites are pearl, willow, autumn, and ermine. He also thinks melanoma is a lovely sounding word, "if you want it to be the name of a tropical wind instead of a tumor." (p.21) He also thinks "diarrhea" is a waste of good syllables. (ibid.)

He starts the piece by telling the story of a dentist who builds a giant catapult to hurl a Buick 250 yards into the air. He chose Buick because he liked the sound of the name. He goes on to debate about what his favorite word would be, wavering between parts of speech (preposition athwart, verb bamboozle, adjectives galore and akimbo) and settles at last on lap, "that evanescent body part which no other language has a name for." (p.22)

I have thought long and hard about what my favorite word would be; readers of this blog already know that my favorite French word is pamplemousse. I am a fan of other people's invented words: jedi, wookie, muggle, orc, hobbit. My sister and her husband call their dog (a plotthound [Platthund cognate? (platt meaning low or plain and hund meaning dog, OLG)] whose proper name is Ellie Mae) the barkles. I love my daughter's words for peek-a-boo and lipstick, beedaloo and eyelips respectively. So I don't know if I could pick a favorite word.

But I do know for sure my all time least favorite word, just for the sake of the word, not necessarily the concept: seat. I would rather we talk about chairs and traffic harness belts and toilet comfort lids than ever again use the word seat.

What's in a name? Roses vs. Skunk cabbage

www.behindthename.com Gender: Feminine Usage: English, French, German, Jewish, Biblical Pronounced: SER-a [key]

Means "lady" or "princess" in Hebrew. This was the name of the wife of Abraham in the Old Testament. She became the mother of Isaac at the age of 90. Her name was originally Sarai, but God changed it (see Genesis 17:15).

[we study in linguistics that words change over time for a variety of reasons; the textbook never mentions "act of God" as one of the reasons!]
This is, of course, what I expected to find. My name has been the same for thousands of years, and has been on the top 20 list for 200 or so. The year I was born there was a bumper crop of Sarahs. I used to hate my name for this common reason. Lately, I like it. If I hear it, it means I am in the company of adults. At home, I am Momma. That's okay, too, but it is nice to be Sarah once and a while.

Something interesing about my name I learned on this site is that although I am correct in thinking it does not change much from language to language, it does significantly in Hawaiian: Kala; and Irish : Morag; and the Hebrew name Tzietel is derived from Sarah.

www.bowwow.com.au

This is a site for pet names. As I predicted, my pet's name was not on their list. My Newfoundland dog is named Madame Pamplemousse, which means "Mrs. Grapefruit." We call her Mousse for short. She got her name the usual way -- no one was paying attention. I had made a list of French names for the dog before we adopted her from the Humane Society, and my husband thought them all "too girly." He asked what my favorite French word was. It was Pamplemousse. He liked the idea of a giant hary dog having a giant hairy name, and she was grapefruit before I could further explain. I should point out, however, that the dog does understand French commands, and English only if we are holding meat. The neighbors laugh at me as I walk this beast, scolding "allez-y" when I want her to heel properly.

I enjoyed this site for a few reasons: one, many of the names were cute, especially the pair names: Mufasa and Sarabi, Napoleon and Josephine, Fred & Wilma. But I was amused by the fact that I know children by many of these names -- most of whom are in one family: Baine, Quillon, Griffin, and D'artagnan. This was a decision we agonized over when picking names for our daughter... next time I am consulting this site to make sure the one I want has not been usurped by a pooch!

www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/routesofenglish/games

I did pretty well on the "Where Does This Word Come From" game; I was only wrong about 30% of the time. Being a history major helped, as I remembered things like the first time English speakers encountered potatoes or tobacco was in the West Indies. And Harry Flashman helped with cushy and pajamas. But the crossword? I am not the greatest shakes at them anyway, and I only got a miserable three words before I had to give up. These new words to the language were made up of parts of old ones, in many cases, making me think modern English has a bit of an agglutinative nature... I know the new adjectives people are inventing all the time are both that and incorrectly inflective.

I could see using this site in my classroom someday, as I think etymology is a lost art in today's spelling and vocabulary-for-the-sake-of-the ACT's world. Etymology is what saved me on the ACT's -- I will have to look into the WKCE's and see if it would help there, too. I am guessing it would. And since history is being pushed out of many budgets and timetables by NCLB, sprinkling a bit of it in English class would be great.

Rob tu mo bhoile, a Com­di cri­

Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word;
I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, I Thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

Be Thou my battle Shield, Sword for the fight;
Be Thou my Dignity, Thou my Delight;
Thou my soul’s Shelter, Thou my high Tower:
Raise Thou me heavenward, O Power of my power.

Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,
Thou mine Inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art.

High King of Heaven, my victory won,
May I reach Heaven’s joys, O bright Heaven’s Sun!
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my Vision, O Ruler of all.

The reasons I am drawn to this prayer are first and foremost largely sentimental; this was sung at my wedding, it was my late Nana's favorite, and it was what Joan of Arc sang before the battle of Orleans in my production of Jeanne d'Arc.

That aside, this prayer from the original 8th century Gaelic captures a place in time; this was when the Anglo-Saxon and Viking invasions were happening, concurrently with the conversion of much of the islands. This was also a time when the churches of the Irish and Rome were, in a way, competing for the loyalty of the newly converted. Within this prayer, this hymn, are all these elements: the marks of war -- swords, shields, shelters, high towers, etc; the faith decisions in waking and sleeping; and the struggle between the riches of the church in Rome and the simple life in Ireland.

All this history aside, there is the simple plea: be thou my vision. So many prayers ask for a friend, or intercedence on some matter, or eternal life, forgiveness of sins... this penitent writer asks for the ability to see things as God does, convinced that this is the way to victory in life. Ken Burns, the reknowned PBS documentary filmaker, chose an instrumental setting of this hymn for the soundtrack for his piece on Thomas Jefferson, who is called one of the grandest visionaries of all time -- but who is also criticized for not seeing the faults of his own actions (i.e. not believing in slavery, but owning slaves.) This view is perhaps more re-vision than vision. But it does give me pause:
Isn't this what we should all seek? This vision?

What a Waist, that Empire

[a. F. empire:—L. imperium in same sense; related to imperQre to command, whence imperQtor emperor. Owing partly to historical circumstances, and partly to the sense of the etymological connexion between the two words, empire has always had the specific sense ‘rule or territory of an emperor’ as well as the wider meaning which it derives from its etymology.]

1. Supreme and extensive political dominion; esp. that exercised by an ‘emperor’ (in the earlier senses: see emperor 1, 2), or by a sovereign state over its dependencies.
How every man likes to feel in his own house, right? Master of his domain?
5. a. An extensive territory (esp. an aggregate of many separate states) under the sway of an emperor or supreme ruler; also, an aggregate of subject territories ruled over by a sovereign state.
The sun never set on the British Empire for a while... always thought that was kind of cool.
b. the Empire: (a) before 1804 (and subsequently in Hist. use) often spec. the ‘Holy Roman’ or ‘Romano-Germanic’ empire. (b) Great Britain with its dominions, colonies, and dependencies; the British Empire; freq. the overseas dominions, etc., as opposed to Great Britain. Since the Statute of Westminster (1931), Commonwealth has become the more usual term.
(c) the rule of Napoleon Bonaparte as Emperor of the French, 1804–15, or the period of this. (d) the rule of Napoleon III as Emperor of the French, 1852–70, or the period of this, usually as Second Empire.

Every dog has his day, someone once said of the various Boney's that sifted through the French government. These few definitions are intriguing in that, though they refer to the same word (and in some cases co-exist at the same time, i.e. Napoleons and Brits, they can be used and understood in context to mean a specific and historically significant empire. Imagine, if you will, the word being bandied about on two ships, maybe half-mile from one another in a fog, one crew singing La Marseilles, the other singing "God Save the King."
b. Applied to styles of clothing (esp. a dress with a high waistline), furniture, etc., characteristic of the period of the French Empire (see 5b(c) and (d)).
So I just made a dress like this, and though I don't feel like I could RULE an empire in it, they way they wore them (low cut, and the chemise underneath damp so it clings to the figure) would certainly distract an entire empire. This is the style of Jane Austen and Rousseau alike, on the heels of two hundred years of nasty corsets. Having worn both, I can say, long live the empire!