Archive for the ‘Linguistics’ Category

Grammatical doorstop

Sunday, July 25th, 2010

Since I first read about the new Cambridge Grammar of the English Language, I’ve wanted a copy. The authors are Rodney Huddleston and Geoffrey Pullum (with some chapters written by others), and it’s an 1,800-page doorstop of a book. Just lately, having had some small discussion with my proofreader about a hyphen he wanted to put in a place where I thought no hyphen ought to be, I decided this was the time, and was fortunate enough to find a used (barely opened, I think) copy for under $100 — list price is $205.

So it now resides on the little table by my reading & laptop chair, and I am slogging through it. When I finish with the chapter on verbs (only about 40 pages to go), nouns are next, at about 200 pages.

If that sounds like more than you really want to know about English grammar, you can read a summary chapter online. Pullum wrote on the linguistics blog Language Log, “The chapter we chose for making searchable online is a particularly useful one, in that it is largely free-standing: it is chapter 2, called “Syntactic overview”, in which Rodney Huddleston surveys the structure and terminology of the entire book, giving a capsule version of the analysis that is elaborated in the following chapters.”

If you’re still in thrall to your eighth-grade English teacher and her pet peeves, or you’re hanging on to the tattered copy of Strunk and White you had to buy for freshman comp, have a look, to see what linguists have been up to the last half-century or so. And if you are much troubled with peevologists, you can always use the book to swat them.

isolated pedants’ society

Monday, July 13th, 2009

John McIntyre, formerly a top copy editor at the Baltimore Sun, and a loser in the downsizing panic, writes about a book he’s just read:

I also note, with professional regret, the numerous typographical errors throughout the book, many of which have been corrected by a previous library patron. Apparently I am not alone in finding them irritating.

I used to do that, but then I felt bad about defacing library books. Can one deface that which is already defaced by error? At least, there is someone else who appreciates the impulse.

Kindle talk, with touches of autism

Tuesday, March 10th, 2009

So my son Peter and I were noodling back and forth by e-mail, as we do now and again when some vagrant idea catches our fancy, and along the way it occurred to me that there were some points that might be of
interest to onlookers. So, with his permission (and mine if he wants to
post it on his blog) is a slightly edited version [with comments in
brackets].

For background, Peter, now in his mid-30s, is autistic, but formally
diagnosed only a year or so ago. And his spouse Jesse Hajicek has
published (with a print-on-demand house called Lulu) a novel titled The
God Eaters,
which has sold passably well on Amazon.

Linda:
So I’m reading an article about Kindle and bookstores, and it occurs to
me to wonder, is God Eaters available on Kindle? Can Jesse organize
that, or does it have to be the publisher?

Peter:
I don’t know.
-s

Linda:
Erm, that was a speech act. It doesn’t mean “Do you know?”; it means
“You ought to check this out.”

Peter:
Oh.

… Yeah, that makes sense.

So, here’s a puzzle:

Why do languages form these patterns?  What’s the *benefit* of having
structures which have meaning other than their face-value meaning?

Linda:
I think the generally accepted answer is that primates (not only us, and
actually not only primates among mammals) are intensely status-conscious for reasons that are clearly connected to reproductive success, and the ability to signal and discern status is valuable. Being able to do both indirectly is an additional asset, because it allows everybody involved to save face, and thus avoid open conflict, which can lead to becoming dead.

Since you have some intuitive limitations in the indirectness dimension, you might find some of the work on speech acts, and on pragmatics more generally, of considerable practical use. For a start,
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Searle

I can’t remember what text we used in Pragmatics, but that’s the general
subject heading under linguistics. I do remember writing my final exam
in the middle of the night from a hotel in New York, though not what I
said.

Peter:
Hmm.

I’m innately disposed to dislike [Searle], because the Chinese Box
is so stupid, but I’m fascinated by the topic anyway.

I don’t see how they save face, though.

Linda:
It’s like a vote of confidence in a parliamentary government. If a
high-status individual gives an explicit order, and it is openly
disobeyed, that precipitates a leadership challenge. But non-explicit
“orders” allow everyone concerned to pretend that there was no
disobedience, of course not, oh, no, just some plausible
misunderstanding, and we don’t need to fight/vote about that right now,
do we?

Peter:
Ohhhhh.
Man, you people are complicated.

Linda:
That was sort of my point.

Peter:
The more I study human communication, the more I conclude that most
people are MUCH more complicated internally than I am.

Linda:
I rather think we’re complicated in different ways. If humans had been
subjected to selection pressure in your ways, for say six million years,
and primates whose internal states resemble those of neurotypicals had
been existing on the fringes for all that time, and suddenly there were
environments where they could flourish differentially, what do you think
a) human society would be like now? and b) where would it be heading?

Peter:
No clue.  I suspect we’d have a lot less art, though.

So much art is rooted in internal conflict, and my internal conflicts are
pretty much consistently trivial.  Similarly, so much of it relies on
people being ashamed of their state, or afraid of it, or something, and…
I just don’t get it.

Linda:
By the way, Jane [Gmur] tells me there is Carnelli
[http://mpedia.dan.info/index.php?title=Carnelli] on the program for the
RG [Minnesota Mensa Regional Gathering in April]. Goody. I love
Carnelli. I beat Jon Evans once. He was usually the Carnelli master, but
for some reason he was playing, we were the last two in the circle and
the timer was down to five seconds. The key title word was “up” as in
“Up the Down Staircase,” or “Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up to Me,”
and I said, “Up Yours.”

Which is not, so far as I know, the title of anything, but it was so
unlike me, as Jon knew, that he exploded in guffaws and the
(five-second) clock ran out.

Peter:
Brilliant.

Linda:
Brilliant? Maybe, if I’d had time to think about it, but I didn’t. It
was just the first thing that came into my head.

Peter:
That’s the brilliant part.  :)

Linda:
Also, I bluff a lot in Carnelli. That is, I lie; I make up stuff. You
have to do it fast, or be prepared to do it as if you were saying
something true spontaneously, because people who challenge you
incorrectly lose their place in the circle. (If challenged, you are not
allowed to lie.) People who’d played with me before knew I might be
bluffing, but they also knew it was risky to challenge, because I will
choose to say something true but improbable whenever I can.  At five
seconds, these things don’t matter, because there isn’t time to think
them through.

Puns are also highly valued. “Guns of Navarone” followed by “Never on
Sunday,” is canonical, and one I had never heard but found on MPedia is
“Tequila Sunrise” followed by “To Kill a Mockingbird.” Or maybe the
other way around.

I was in a game once where the prevailing key word was “thing” and I was
beside myself with anticipation hoping it would still be apposite when
my turn came, and it was, and I got to say, “Of Thee I Thing.” Jon was
the Carnelli Master in that game, I think.

Peter:
… And there’s where I get my mileage back off being so much simpler
than normal humans.  Five seconds is a LONG time to me.  In games timed at a few seconds, I have time to consider game theory.

My models are simplistic, but VERY fast.

[All this happened incidentally to whatever else we were doing, over five hours or so, but at this point, we switched to the telephone. Peter also lives in Northfield, about three miles from me, not that it matters. One more bit, later:]

Peter (after rereading the exchanges above):

This is the part that fascinates me still.  I can’t imagine how people can get anything done, given how long it apparently takes them.  And yet…

I think that’s the other reason ADHD wasn’t easy to spot when I was a kid. You check for it by seeing whether the kid can solve problems that take more than five seconds to solve, right?  If he can, that means he’s paying attention for more than five seconds… Right?

Oops.

Linda:
Oh, I’ve gotta put that bit in too.

Simplified spelling — don’t go there

Monday, February 16th, 2009

Over at Kitchen Table Math, Catherine Johnson has recently written in favor of simplifying English spelling. She asks:

Suppose you simplified spelling so that written English became a perfectly transparent writing system like Spanish. It would be obvious to one and all that written English is a code, that spelling means encoding the sounds of the English language, and that reading means decoding the sounds of the English language.

Would schools use phonics to teach children how to read?

To which the obvious answer is “No.” People so determinedly wrong-headed as those in ed schools would just find some other excuse to miseducate prospective teachers. Math is, after all, perfectly transparent, and they’ve got that entirely wrong.

Anyway, I disagreed, and in the comments I said:

“Simplified spelling” is a false hope. There are reasons why linguists (that is, people with actual credentials in the study of language — I was a grad student in linguistics) are generally unconvinced it’s a good idea.

First: You have to decide whose spoken English is encoded into this mythical “perfectly transparent” writing system. London? Boston? New Orleans? For that matter, why not Calcutta or Shanghai?

Which is more transparent, Burma or Myanmar? Cambodia or Kampuchea?

We actually do have a perfectly transparent way of transcribing spoken language, called the International Phonetic Alphabet. Do people use that to teach reading? (I understand the answer in China is sometimes “yes.”)

Second, “simplified spelling” erases the historical and logical relations between words whose pronunciation has shifted over centuries, making it harder to learn new vocabulary beyond the words children know.

An example: English plurals are spelled with “s.” Most English speakers are blithely unaware that the “s” is pronounced like the phoneme /s/ after unvoiced consonants, e.g. /t/, and like /z/ after voiced consonants and vowels.

Or at least they were until “Boyz” hit their consciousness. And now we have “Bratz.”

Thus perfectly illustrating the problem; “Bratz” is wrong. That’s an /s/, but nobody noticed.

Would it be easier to learn English plurals, or possessives, or third-person singular verbs, if children had to distinguish cats from dogz?

Third, we’d lose most of written literature. If you grew up with a simplified-spelling version of English, Shakespeare would be as remote as Chaucer, and only the relative handful of books that were translated from historical originals would be accessible to you.

The People’s Republic of China adopted simplified spelling, in the form of simplified characters, in the name of improved literacy, but the political purpose was to obliterate access to written history that did not conform to the party’s vision.

And as long as I’ve mentioned Chinese, character languages are a lot further from phonetically transparent than any alphabetic language, yet Japan, Korea and Taiwan have literacy rates that NAEP should envy. Spelling is not the problem.

Pay(b)ack

Friday, January 23rd, 2009

The news agency Reuters posted a story the day after the inauguration claiming:
“President Barack Obama’s inauguration generated an unprecedented 35,000 stories in the world’s major newspapers, television and radio broadcasts over the past day — about 35 times more than the last presidential swearing-in — a monitoring group said on Wednesday.”

Bloggers seem to like this story — I’ve run into it several times — but they also seem to be accepting it as legit, though the idea that the second inauguration of President Bush garnered a mere 1,000 stories is implausible on its face. Fewer than Obama? Sure, I believe that. But by a factor of 35? Not likely.

So who was Reuters relying on for what we journalists call a one-source story? Why, it was Paul JJ Payack, president of Global Language Monitor.

He’s got form as a purveyor of dubious linguistic self-promotions. The guys at Language Log nailed him good for a series of predictions about the millionth word in English. Benjamin Zimmer wrote:

Gullible reporters keep falling for a self-aggrandizing scam perpetrated by Paul J.J. Payack, who runs an outfit called Global Language Monitor. As regular Language Log readers know, Mr. Payack has been trumpeting the arrival of “the millionth word” in English for some time now. In fact, he’s predicted that the English language would pass the million-word mark in 2006… and 2007… and 2008… and now 2009. As reported in the Christian Science Monitor and The Economist, the date that Payack has now set for the million-word milestone is April 29, 2009.

In a previous installment of the Payack saga, I wrote that the Million Word March was “a progression that he turns on and off based on his publicity needs.” So I can’t say I was terribly surprised to learn that April 29, 2009 just happens to be the publication date of the paperback edition of Payack’s book, A Million Words and Counting: How Global English Is Rewriting The World. What a stupendous coincidence that Global Language Monitor’s word-counting algorithm has timed itself to accord with Payack’s publishing schedule!

Payack calls Obama “the biggest story of the century so far,” and Reuters quotes him further:

Payack said that according to his group’s monitoring, the Obama campaign and election story had generated 717,000 citations in print, television and radio across the world in 2008 and 254 million mentions on the Internet and in Web blogs.

That surpassed media interest generated by Hurricane Katrina in 2005, the global financial meltdown in 2008, the Iraq War in 2003 and the September 11 attacks on New York and Washington, Payack said.

The tallies were calculated using the group’s proprietary algorithm which tracks the frequency of words and phrases in the global print and electronic media, the Internet and major databases.

People with editors are not supposed to fall for silly press releases.

Linguistics by amateurs

Monday, July 7th, 2008

I was reading Romenesko’s journalism blog at the Poynter institute website, and well, one link led to another, and I found myself reading Roy Peter Clark’s bleg for the book he’s writing, The Glamour of Grammar.

(Don’t bother asking. Obscure Scottish etymological link, stretched to a faretheewell.)

Happens, I was a grad student in linguistics (Minnesota, 1988-1992), and I know when I’m reading balderdash. I am not, however, sufficiently current to explicate authoritatively in what way it is balderdash.

So I called in heavy air support, offering as fisk bait to the denizens of Language Log plaza this inimitable sentiment:

Articles are slippery. You might be fooled into thinking that a can only be used in the singular and that the carries the plural until you read “A million dollars will get you the rarest baseball card in the world.”

Mark Liberman of UPenn sliced and diced this inanity, and summed up,

“So I’d advise Prof. Clark to remove the whole paragraph that starts “Articles are slippery”. The only trouble is, that leaves the rest of the essay.”

Oh, I wish I’d written that.

Liberman also eviscerated Clark’s take on Noam Chomsky.

The thing is, I’ve heard Clark speak several times at writing seminars — the Poynter Institute puts them on around the country. I thought he was pretty good. Maybe the sloppy thinking slides past because if you’re listening to a speech you don’t have time to process the analytical details and what comes through are the telling anecdotes.

But in general, writing seminars for journalists are about as useful as professional development inservice for teachers, where they learn about paper folding and multiple intelligences.

Linguists get peevish too

Friday, February 8th, 2008

Rocky Mountain News columnist Mike Rosen wrote about a few of his pet grammatical peeves last week, and like many people who have never studied linguistics and don’t know what it’s about, he managed to embarrass himself.

Rocky edit page editor Vincent Carroll asked if I wanted to respond, and I did.

For some reason, sportswriters and broadcasters have lately taken (I know, that’s a split infinitive, but I allow myself some of those) to writing or saying, “four RBI,” leaving out the “s.” They may believe they’re being grammatically correct but they’re wrong on two different levels.

Mike Rosen is quite correct (“The trouble with English,” Feb. 1) that there is nothing grammatically incorrect about a “split infinitive,” despite what Mrs. Wellington used to say in my seventh-grade English class, back in the prehistoric era when teachers still believed that it was a good idea for children to be taught the basics of English grammar.

However, the example he generously allows himself, “have lately taken,” is not an infinitive of any kind, just a verb form containing more than one word, and an adverb in its usual and customary place after the first of them.

An infinitive expresses the part of the meaning of a verb that is independent of person, number, gender and tense, as you likely know if there was a Mrs. Wellington in your past. Like “to take,” or “to be,” as infinitives are written in English. In Latin, they’re single words — esse — whence cometh the peculiar idea that they shouldn’t be split in English.

The rest of Rosen’s column illustrates another peculiar phenomenon — that people who know nothing at all about linguistics assume they do because they speak and write a language, and in absence of actual knowledge they just make stuff up.

“The election of the first woman or black president of the United States would surely be an historic event.” No it wouldn’t! But it would certainly be a historic event. Putting history and politics aside, let’s focus on the grammar.

This happens to be one of my pet grammatical peeves. I suspect it’s because people somehow feel “an historic” sounds more elegant than “a historic” that they break a fundamental rule in this case. If you aspirate the “h” at the beginning of a word — that is, if you can hear the “h” — you precede it with the article “a.” If you don’t hear the “h,” you precede it with “an.” So you eat a hot dog or you’re an heir to an estate. You wouldn’t say, “he hit an home run,” so why would you say “it’s an historic event?” (Don’t ask me about “herb;” that’s pronounced both ways.)

There are principles that govern the alternation of “a” and “an,” but they’re phonetic, not grammatical, and not as Rosen describes them. “A hot dog,” but “an uncooked hot dog” and “a delighted heir.”

First, sports jargon is often granted special exemption from the rules of grammar, as in expressions like “he went yard” or “you the man.” It’s a cultural thing.

Granted by whom, hmmm? I’m surprised he didn’t complain about the “passive tense.”

Secondly, “RBI,” in this case, is a compound noun treated as a unitary term. Hence, even though you’d say four “runs batted in” if you spelled out or spoke all the words, when you use the abbreviation as a term, you say four “RBIs.”

I’d probably say “four RBIs,” as Rosen prefers, but whether and where to put the “s” in an acronym is very idiosyncratic, and often different for abbreviations.

Or how about “height” pronounced, “hieth?” The only correct pronunciation is “hite.” Check the dictionary. “Weight” is spelled much the same way and you wouldn’t pronounce it “wayth.” “Height” ends in a “t,” not an “h,” like the word, “length.” It’s not spelled, “heighth.”

Rosen is correct that pronouncing height as “hithe” instead of “hite” is wrong, but so is explaining why by recourse to “weight,” which would argue just as cogently for “hayt.”

Then there’s the annoying use of the word “problematic.” It’s a great word as shorthand for describing some thorny issue or predicament that’s unsettled, uncertain, debatable, indeterminate, baffling or difficult to get your hands around. I don’t like it when broadcasters, reporters or analysts casually use it to describe something that’s merely troublesome or just a run-of-the-mill problem, as in “the snowstorm has made the rush hour drive problematic.”

Stick to politics, Mike. It’s less problematic, because in politics nobody knows what they’re talking about.

Linda Seebach, a former Rocky editorial writer, is a resident of Northfield, Minn.

Predictably, someone in the comments complained about “nobody . . . they”

 

Posted by Old_Grouch on February 7, 2008 at 6:20 a.m.

“Ms. Seebach might want to look at the principle of grammer that holds a singular noun — “nobody” — takes a singular pronoun — “he”, or “she”, NOT the plural, “they”. However . . . !

“One might ask if anybody at the RMN, really knows what he, or she, is talking about, in or out of ‘politics’.”

I used to write to OG back when I was moonlighting as the letters blog [Hall Monitor], and replied:

 

Posted by lindaseebach on February 7, 2008 at 10:11 a.m.

@Old_Grouch
As I noted, people who don’t know anything about linguistics often incorrectly believe they do. The so-called “principle of grammer” (sic) that “nobody” is always a singular noun (or “they” always a plural pronoun — it can be analyzed either way) allows for a variety of exceptions, going back to the King James Bible and earlier. See, for example, numerous posts on the linguistics Weblog “Language Log.” *

How would OG complete the tag question, “I guess nobody liked the dessert, did ____?”

And someone else, perhaps mildly irony impaired, informed me:

“Linda,Nobody granted the sports writers an exemption, because there never was a central authority in England to mandate correct grammar and pronunciation, as there was in France and Spain. This situation has led to centuries of bickering. If sports writer jargon is understood and accepted by sports fans, so be it. Just avoid using sports writer jargon in a scholarly article”

People really get into this language stuff.

* See, for instance, Mark Liberman’s post on syntactic and notional number, citing research indicating that pronouns tend to agree with a speaker’s meaning, while verbs are more likely to reflect the form of a noun such as “nobody.”

Column: To quote or not to quote

Monday, August 27th, 2007

So what did Clinton Portis really say?

According to Mark Liberman, a University of Pennsylvania linguist who hangs out at the blog Language Log, the Redskins running back said during a July 27 meeting with the media, “I don’t know how nobody feel, I don’t know what nobody thinking. I don’t know what nobody going through. Only thing I know is what’s going on in Clinton Portis life.”

As Liberman explains, an Aug. 12 column by Washington Post ombudsman Deborah Howell prompted him to transcribe that passage from a videotape available on the team’s Web site. Howell’s column examined how the paper came to run two different versions of what Clinton Portis said, neither of them strictly accurate.

In a news story by Howard Bryant, readers learned that Portis had said, “. . . I don’t know what anyone else is going through.” In a column by Michael Wise, Howell said, that part of the quote was rendered as “. . . I don’t know what nobody doing, . . .”

Howell said the paper’s policy was clear. “When we put a source’s words inside quotation marks, those exact words should have been uttered in precisely that form.”

Given how people speak in real life, such a policy is unworkable. But in any case, Bryant said he had never heard about it. And neither, apparently, had the staffer who replaced Wise’s version with Bryant’s version without even telling Wise — which is wrong whatever you think about standardizing quotes.

Liberman accuses Wise of getting the supposedly verbatim quote wrong, with a broad-brush sideswipe at “the spectacularly lax standards of big-time journalistic quotation.” And then he goes on to ding Howell: “But what fascinates me here is that Howell didn’t bother to (have someone) take ten minutes to check what the verbatim version of the Portis quote actually was.”

Well now. It turns out that Wise relied on a staff transcription (something I found out by e-mailing him to ask). So Liberman cannot know that Howell “didn’t bother” to check the accuracy of the quote; perhaps she checked the same transcript Wise used. Did Liberman bother to ask?

Whether and when and how far to standardize quotes is contentious. Doing it may seem condescending; not doing it may seem mean-spirited.

Wise e-mailed, “I also feel a sense of compassion for some people I interview who aren’t necessarily savvy in the media. If it were a kid who had trouble with the language — and not a guy who loves to affect a persona and knows very well how he comes across when he speaks like that — I would have paraphrased. But it’s Portis, the guy who dresses up as Southeast Jerome and other assorted characters.”

I’m uncomfortable with putting altered words in quotation marks, even if the reason is benign. When I was working in Los Angeles, I went to a rally for supporters of a school-voucher initiative that was on the ballot that year, and the featured speaker was Polly Williams, who led the campaign for vouchers in Milwaukee.

She’s black, and the audience was almost entirely white, but they were also enthusiastically pro-Williams, and as the audience warmed up she gradually shifted from standard English (a descriptive term, not a normative one) to Black English Vernacular. So I had to decide when I wrote a column about the rally, do I quote her accurately, leaving the BEV grammatical markers intact, or do I pretend she spoke standard English throughout? I opted for accuracy, and further for not mentioning that it had been a choice, figuring that my obvious admiration for her would convey to readers that I wasn’t trying to make her look bad.

Still, if the Post’s policy is never to standardize quotes, writers and editors shouldn’t do it. And when in doubt, check the tape.