Writing with a fine-tipped language
September 24th 2008 00:09
Some musings on language.
English is a writer's paradise because its vast vocabulary (about twice the size of Spanish or French) means we can create wonderfully complex and nuanced writing. It sounds grand.
English is a writer's hell because of the constant need to be vigilant, like an artist mixing and re-mixing colours until the right shade is found. It sounds like hard work.
In Samuel Shellabarger's novel Lord Vanity, his 18th century heroine, returning from London to her home in Paris, declares (something like), "Oh, what a relief to swap the nagging precision of English for the comfortable generalities of French!"
The verb to be is the most irregular verb in English. It is probably the most irregular verb in the known universe. Here is some fun reading - the infinitive form is to be; present tense forms are: am, is, are; past tense: was, were; present participle: being; past participle: been; present subjunctive: be; past subjunctive: were; imperative: be. Think about this next time you meet someone struggling to learn English as a second language.
Cantonese has three forms of all verbs. Every verb has a regular root (sek: to eat). For past tense just add "jor" (sek jor: I ate). For future tense just add "gaan" (sek gaan: I will eat). How sensible is that!
The Chinese gave the world tea, and they also gave the English language the words it uses for it: "tea" and "cha" both derive from Chinese dialects.
German is the compound noun king. In Vienna I once heard the following: "Donausgesellshaftfahreschiff skapitän", which means, I think, "the community of captains of commercial barges on the Danube". The word is so long that Orble insists on inserting a space in it where none is wanted, rather undermining the effect.
The Italian word for tree is albero and the Italian word for hotel is albergo. In her wonderful book Eat Pray Love, Elizabeth Gilbert writes of studying the language in Italy, where she mistakenly kept telling people that she grew up on a Christmas hotel farm.
Also courtesy of Elizabeth Gilbert, the Italian word tasso can mean interest rate, badger or yew tree, necessitating care. But this is nothing compared to the pitfalls of Chinese, where the same sound can have many meanings depending on variations of tone. Hilarious or insulting blunders await the unwary. I have a friend who swears that, using his rudimentary Cantonese to order in a Hong Kong restaurant, he asked the waiter for the hand of his dog in marriage.
I once met a man who spoke 14 languages. We were an Australian and a South African meeting in a youth hostel in Germany. I was fluent in English. He was fluent in English, French, Italian, Spanish, Dutch, German, Afrikaans and nine African bush languages, including the amazing tongue-clicking language of the Khoisan (Kalahari bushmen).
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Comment by Norm
Consumption Malfunction
Equal and Opposite
Arses and Elbows
Footy Power
Is deathcamp a compound?
I'm going straight to hell in a handbucket.
Anyway, those Chinese verbs sure are lucky.
Language is endlessly, up to a point, a source of endless amusement.
Cheers
Comment by Chris Champion
moneywhither
Vyoos
Zoomies
Bloggercises
NewlyOld
The Blog of Lists
You break me up, like a compound caricature, proving that language is maddening because it's pointless until the end, when we go dotty.
Comment by Cibbuano
20/20 Filmsight
Science News
Hunt Famous
Orble Post of the Day
Fat Cult
Techbreak
Have you seen this bit from Russell Peters?
Comment by Chris Champion
moneywhither
Vyoos
Zoomies
Bloggercises
NewlyOld
The Blog of Lists