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Post by Zox Tomana on Aug 9, 2017 2:00:28 GMT
Combine that with standard spelling being a relatively modern invention, and the differences in spelling between American and UK English on top of dialectical differences in pronunciation and enunciation... it really is no wonder that English is the glorious, wonderful mess that it is. And the fact that in several instances the standard spelling came from one part of England and the pronunciation from another... and then the pronunciation kept changing... English is chaos.Love that poem. I showed it to a non-native English speaker once, and took a little too much pleasure in their horror and confusion... |
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Post by Runningflame on Aug 9, 2017 4:39:17 GMT
Combine that with standard spelling being a relatively modern invention, and the differences in spelling between American and UK English on top of dialectical differences in pronunciation and enunciation... it really is no wonder that English is the glorious, wonderful mess that it is. And the fact that in several instances the standard spelling came from one part of England and the pronunciation from another... and then the pronunciation kept changing... English is chaos.For a somewhat contrasting point of view (i.e. "yes, it's irregular, but it's not as bad as you think"), see this explanation of English spelling by constructed-language enthusiast Mark Rosenfelder. (Warning: long and technical. If you want the summary, just read the first section and the last section.) People are very protective of their spelling conventions, no matter how strange. For example, the French had quite a little brouhaha last year over some well-meaning changes handed down by the Académie Française. I find this quote from the article telling: In other words, people love the traditional spellings because they're irregular and hard to learn. It's not quite explicit, but there might be a certain feeling of, "We learned these crazy rules when we were kids--why should kids now have it any easier?" A kind of grade school hazing.  On the other hand, if we had a perfectly regular spelling system, a bunch of kids would lose a fun hobby. (I still remember the fourth-grade spelling bee I won on the word "guitar.") |
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Post by Deleted on Aug 9, 2017 8:59:07 GMT
I read "In search of the Indo-Europeans" by Mallory (sp?) some time back, fascinating stuff, the reconstruction of pre-history of peoples through language evolution.... Was that the one positing the same original PIE verb splitting into "give" and "have/hold" later on? Of course, the usual caution with philosophers' and other lovers' dreams about the Golden Age applies... (the Greeks, whom Gladstone or Hölderlin dreamed about, might have become unfashionable) On that note, I'll recommend "The Looking-Glass of Language" by Guy Deutscher. But at any rate, it appears she's using something like Hapkido, which focuses on redirecting an opponent's motion instead of meeting it head-on. Annie steps out of the way of Zimmy's momentum, then uses a joint lock to control her and put her on the ground without hurting her. (Okay, maybe it hurt a little.) I practised aikido as a kid, which consisted, as I remember it, entirely of side-steps and joint locks, and until I read Formspring I just assumed this was exactly what Tom had intended for Annie as well (asymmetric shoulder/knee rolls are also telling, but I think they occur in every Japanese martial art). It can't be judo because Annie doesn't clamp down on Zimmy's legs in the page you linked, severe mistake :D Just allow both versions and see which one wins out, or whether they can even co-exist; that's easily possible with such an issue because nobody will commit crimes over it. The German spelling reform of 1996 has been much-maligned by ineffectual feuilletonists, but its most recent revision has essentially condensed the rules to "write as you prefer it, as long as you can keep to your choices with your own consistent reason", while disposing of the most arbitrary gueßing game. Or that's just how I approach it. For instance, school taught me not to write "Du" and "Dein" capitalized so as to smartly modernize myself, but I've found this lighthousing more beautiful over the last years; and I'd distrust anyone who prefers red ink to blood. Orthographic innovation can look idiosyncratically try-hard, and rightfully so, particularly the kind that develops superficial puns with a falsely-atavistic tinge ("ZeiTraum" is the worst I've encountered so far*); in general, I like standardized spellings because they help to reduce mystic ornaments in favour of more deep-minded constructions and connections. In this case, though, one would just be reintroducing sensible and characteristic traditions; English draws much (or should that be "mickel") of its charm from being uniquely stratified and especially rich in hues of vocabulary, but that doesn't mean these layers should assimilate to each other's influence. In brief: if England has survived the War of the Roses, then surely it would survive a few thorns. While I'd vehemently disagree that English is chaotic, from my own experience, I've only recently learned that I had been mispronouncing "suffice" for the longest time. There are other words I've been disappointed about, such as "alcove", which should by any sensible reasoning bear the stress on the ultima but it doesn't, thus depriving English of yet another rhyme. One of the most beautiful love poems I know includes such an error in its canonical translation (not present in the original language): (Those last two lines are meant to invoke a mostly-impartial, perhaps even basically-clever, but punctually aloof critic in a disconnected, snow-buried country. The interesting twist, along with the rapid progression from youthful bravado to "you alone" is that he is also played by the author, as though after the end of his life; the declaration of immortality and love has taken shape in a litotes. I should mention, incidentally, that he first met her at a masquerade in Berlin where she gently and adamantly refused to reveal her face to him -- thereby, in fact, putting him to the test on a poem he had written. And, perhaps, that he died before her.) ... * "Zeitraum" means "time-span", but "Raum" also means "room; space", and indeed "space-time" translates to "Raumzeit", while "Traum" happens to mean "dream". Add in half-understood Australian aboriginal beliefs and you're poised to spearhead the next eternal work-in-progress of German literature -- I guess? |
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Post by saardvark on Aug 9, 2017 10:50:53 GMT
I read "In search of the Indo-Europeans" by Mallory (sp?) some time back, fascinating stuff, the reconstruction of pre-history of peoples through language evolution.... Was that the one positing the same original PIE verb splitting into "give" and "have/hold" later on? Of course, the usual caution with philosophers' and other lovers' dreams about the Golden Age applies... (the Greeks, whom Gladstone or Hölderlin dreamed about, might have become unfashionable) On that note, I'll recommend "The Looking-Glass of Language" by Guy Deutscher. In brief: if England has survived the War of the Roses, then surely it would survive a few thorns. ... * "Zeitraum" means "time-span", but "Raum" also means "room; space", and indeed "space-time" translates to "Raumzeit", while "Traum" happens to mean "dream". Add in half-understood Australian aboriginal beliefs and you're poised to spearhead the next eternal work-in-progress of German literature -- I guess? That's the one. Locates the PIE origin in the modern Ukraine, roughly, and charts its explosion and evolution from there. Bring on the thorns! I love German compound words, so rich in layers of meaning. English borrows words (or makes them up), German sticks them together from old ones like Legos... |
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Post by warrl on Aug 10, 2017 6:34:14 GMT
People are very protective of their spelling conventions, no matter how strange. For example, the French had quite a little brouhaha last year over some well-meaning changes handed down by the Académie Française. I find this quote from the article telling: I know a bit about the origin of *some* of those marks, and I'd agree with the Académie that they (the ones I know about) are superfluous. "é" happens to be one of them - but only when at the beginning of the word and followed by a consonant. In that specific case, get rid of the accent and put an "s" after the "e" and you get an Old French word - which quite often will be clearly similar to an English word (and sometimes that similarity is enhanced by dropping the "e"). "écureil" is an example. The circumflex is usually superfluous - it's usually a remnant of an "s" that followed the vowel in Old French. And again, often you can recognize an English word. An example is "forȇt" - and if anyone can explain why they reduce the unpronounced "s" to a little hat but keep the equally unpronounced "t" intact... |
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