Umbrellas


This past Tuesday it was raining down hard, so most people had their umbrellas out. I witnessed one umbrella that I thought I should mention to some friends. Here’s how it came out:

There was this woman who was carrying the smallest umbrella I’ve ever seen! They were less than the width of her shoulders!

No idea why I thought that was allowed.

What a linguist does


This past Friday I went with my fiancée to Mrs. Dalloway’s bookstore in Berkeley to see Deborah Tannen talk about her new book about communication between sisters. She told some great stories about the interviews she conducted while researching the book. I got the impression that the book is mostly about the relations between sisters, and how these are reflected in (and can be discerned by looking at) their conversations. But I’m still not sure how much of the analysis comes from author-sister interaction, or sister-sister interaction (I bought the book as a gift, so I haven’t looked inside).

The last several questions afterward had to do with how a linguist’s perspective on communication might differ from that of a psychologists (or a sociologist, etc; no one actually mentioned other fields, though Tannen mentioned psychology). That lead to wondering what the heck linguistics was anyway. After briefly explaining that, Tannen offered something that Robin Lakoff had once said (light paraphrasing on my part):

I know what I do is linguistics, because I’m a linguist, and I do it.

The sound of capitalization


I’ve been rereading the Wheel of Time book series, half because it’s fun and half because soon the antepenultimate installment will be released. In case you couldn’t tell. And there’s one particular way the author, Robert Jordan, describes how people in different societies react to each other’s use of language — especially terms of art and ritual language — that gets to me. I can only recall it happening maybe three or four times as of the 7th book, but it gets me every time.

“Yes, but there is the matter of the Bargain.” That word was plainly capitalized in Harine’s tone.

Much as this particular narrative technique grates on me, let’s set aside the translation from whatever orthographic conventions we imagine the folks in this universe use into the notion of English spelling. Let’s just pretend that “that word was plainly capitalized” means “that was clearly a special word, denoting a special referent.” I have to wonder: what features of pronunciation, either of the word or the utterance, could tell you that? If “tone” includes pauses, then perhaps a longer-than-average pause before “the Bargain” might do it. Though the way most characters in the books seems to simply presuppose that outsiders know How Things Work, this would be a marked difference. Or maybe Jordan simply meant that Harine used air quotes.

Control-b n


My keyboard layout of choice for English is Dvorak. At work, I use this keyboard.

For certain tasks I’ve been involved in of late, I use emacs and often switch back and forth between buffers using control-x b. The x and b keys in dvorak are the physical b and n keys. These two keys are on separate halves of the keyboard, separated by the hump in the middle that contains the zoom thingy. This necessitates using both hands to execute the command.

Last night, I decided to do some work at home on my laptop (which does not have an ergonomic/split keyboard). When I went to switch buffers, I noticed that the b and n keys were right next to each other! It was strange.

Envious, meet Spider


The epic fantasy series The Wheel of Time features a rich world of characters and history, including a language spoken approximately 3000 years prior to the action of the story, called by modern folk the old tongue (the OT). There is also a group of about a dozen evil villains from that same time period. After a war that ended 3000 years ago, they were imprisoned in a timeless sleep, but escaped (I think) a few decades or so prior to the main action. One could complain (nitpick) about the plausibility of a single world language, and the likelihood that an entire continent would still speak mutually-intelligible dialects descended from said language, even 3000 years later. But anyway, that’s not the point.

These old school villains (the “Forsaken”) have all adopted for themselves names given them (in scorn) by those they fought so many years ago. For instance, in the prologue of The Eye of the World, we learn that Elan Morin Tedronai is now called Betrayer of Hope. This works out to Ishamael in the old tongue. Based on other words in the OT, we know that mael is ‘hope’ and isha has something to do with ‘destroyer’, but it’s unclear if these are bound or free morphemes, whether this is more like a compound (hope destroyer?) or a name-ified phrase. Anyway, that’s how it goes. In the OT, these baddies have names like “Spider” or “the Envious” or “Daughter of the Night.”

Now, there are some scenes in which these Forsaken talk amongst each other, and one can surmise that they use the old tongue. For instance, in the prologue of Lord of Chaos (p57) we have the point of view of one of the Forsaken

She felt the first spinning of saidar a moment before the glowing line appeared and became a gateway.

Modern day people speak of weaving, not spinning, saidar. There are a couple other things like this, I think. of course it could be that they are actually speaking a modern language, but using lexical items from their own time period. But it’s not clear why they would do so. Maybe to keep up their language skills? But these Forsaken have in general such a poor opinion of modern people that it seems they’d relish any opportunity to abandon the parts of their language, culture, etc that they had to adopt in order to fit in.

Yet, in contrast to the Prologue of the very first book (where a good guy, speaking the OT, says “Betrayer of Hope”), the thought and language of the Forsaken, in every other part of the series, uses the OT names untranslated. The line after the one quoted above reads,

Graendal stepped out, …

where Graendal means something in the OT (though not known to mere mortal readers). This is to be contrasted with the italicized saidar, another OT word, probably complex but no gloss has ever been given. So, the generalization here is that, with the exception of the first prologue of the first book, chapters from the POV of an OT speaker look linguistically just like POVs from modern speakers, with some lexical items switched out to remind us we’re dealing with really old people here.

From a certain point of view this makes sense. It would probably be rather difficult and confusing to make the OT/modern differences more apparent. And while it might satisfy some geeks, it could well take away from the storytelling proper. And for another thing, it might be pretty darned hilarious to read

The Betrayer of Hope wondered what could be keeping Spider. She and the Envious always worked together, but surely they would not openly show their alliance…

Which brings up the next question: do these guys ever feel funny talking to each other with these names? I realize that analyzable names pretty quickly become opaque to casual thought (how often do I wonder about the creek in Walnut Creek? Almost never). They do, from time to time, mull over the suitability of their names, but I guess it’s mostly in the background of their thoughts. So, maybe the rendering of their names as non-italicized old tongue (amidst what we can imagine is translated OT) is a way of representing that.

Final note: in The Eye of the World, on pages 619-20, you can find another example of the whole worm/wyrm/Worm thing. I never noticed it the first time through, but after rereading the book a few weeks ago, I found it chuckle-worthy.

“They were scared off by worms?” Mat said incredulously. [...]

“A Worm” — there was a sharp difference in the way the Warder said it from the way Mat had — “can kill a Fade, if the Fade hasn’t the Dark One’s own luck with it.

What I wouldn’t give to know what that sharp difference was.

Graduate, promote, advance


Several months ago there was a sign outside a middle school near where I live which read,

Congratulations to the promoting class of 2009!

I was familiar with the use of promote as something a school does to a student advancing to the next grade, and the particular significance of being promoted from middle to high school. But the syntactic contexts for this were school promotes student or promotion of student, etc., roughly transitive uses. This contrasted in my usage with graduate, where a student may graduate or a school may graduate a student. So, for me, graduating class was perfectly normal, while promoting class was out. But it seems to be not all that rare, and after all, why not? If it’s to be used pretty much parallel to graduate, why not let it take syntactic positions more like the latter?

But still, would you expect to find it as a main rather than in the -ing form? From here:

6th grade students who have promoted in 2008 will attend a middle school campus and 8th grade students who have promoted will be assigned to a high school site.

So far I’ve found only one such thing.

Then, there’s also advance. Students and classes advance to the next grade, and there are advancement ceremonies. But would anyone congratulate the advancing class of 2009?

Astronomy, Physics, Biology, Linguistics


Here at UCB there are a few classes that are commonly recognized as part of the essential undergad experience. They’re beginning-level survey courses taught by distinguished faculty members (do I sound like a brochure?): Intro to Astronomy (Alexei Filippenko), Drugs and the Brain (David Presti), Physics for Future Presidents (Richard Muller). Well, in today’s issue of The Daily Californian, among a list of five of the “Best Classes on Campus” is Linguistics 55AC: The American Languages.

From the official catalog:

A linguistic view of the history, society, and culture of the United States. The variety of languages spoken in our country and the issues surrounding them: language and ethnicity, politics of linguistic pluralism vs. societal monolingualism, language and education, language shift, loss, retention, and renewal. Languages include English (standard and nonstandard; Black English), pidgins and creoles, Native American languages, Spanish, French, and immigrant languages from Asia and Europe.

The recommender (Daniel Kronovet) writes,

You’ll have no idea how deep language goes until you’ve taken this course. [...] It’s everything you never knew you should know about.

So sign up! (or request that it be webcast) (but note that this semester, the instructor is Bill Weigel, not Rose Wilkerson)

Actions and comments


Facebook statuses take the form of your name (linked to your profile) followed by whatever you type in the box. Many people take advantage of this to make their name the subject of a sentence:

Russell doesn’t update his blog much.

But this is by no means universal. Many an update on my home page look like

Russell updating your status is boring

And many other sorts of formats. But what about the comments you can leave in response to others’ status updates? Those too begin with a linked, correctly capitalized name, but I have yet to see (or at least remember) a comment that used that name as the subject of a sentence. They all look like

Russell that’s great, Bill!

and not

Russell thinks that’s great!

Russell wonders why.

I thought it might be because the main status field tells you your name will appear in the beginning of your feed, while the comment field doesn’t. But that’s not true. It doesn’t seem like the different prompts (what’s on your mind? vs write a comment) would necessarily do it. Maybe it’s about topicality: the status is about the status-holder/typer, but the comment isn’t necessarily about the commenter.

Or Maybe it’s more historical? Earlier, all status updates started with “[name] is”, but even with the demise of that restriction people still like to exploit the fact that their names appear right before their custom text. I don’t know when comments started being implemented, but perhaps they came in after any facebook-enforced subjecthood requirements, so the custom never caught on.

Or maybe it’s something more genre-like: the status is an broadcast announcement, so it makes sense for it to be a sentence about you, while the comment (while also potentially readable by everyone) is more personal and so a more flexible information structure and syntax is needed?

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