Language, they say, with
some justification, is organic. And, in common with organic structures
everywhere, it must grow, develop and experiment with variations, or die. Many
of the world's small languages have disappeared, often because their speakers
and users refused to adapt to the changes imposed by the developing world.
English, considered the most widely spoken language on this extraordinary planet
of ours, has some champions who would subject it to the sort of purity that
will ultimately suffocate it. On the other hand, there are those who stretch
the meanings of words until they become meaningless.
To be a useful method of
communication, language needs to maintain some stability. A common example of
the changes imposed on English in the relatively recent past concerns the word 'wicked'.
Initially stemming from the Old English 'wicca' or the female version, 'wicce',
and then evolving into 'witch', this word was initially all about badness and
malevolence. Though, even as early as the 17th century it could be
taken as meaning 'playfully mischievous or roguish'. Last century, it took on
the exact opposite meaning and came to convey the ideas of 'good, brilliant,
wonderful' in the mouths of youth.
At the time, I recall
being disturbed by this reversal of meaning, which appeared to have the effect
of turning communication upside down and causing confusion. But the period of
bewilderment proved short and it was soon evident that context would make the
intended meaning clear, often depending on who was actually using the word. It
continues today to have the meanings of both 'bad' and 'good'. As such, it
ought to be an obstacle to comprehension but, except in the most clumsy cases,
its meaning is generally obvious from its usage.
Had we employed the same
sort of language police as the French have for centuries, the new meaning of
the word would have been prevented and the language made poorer by its lack.
English, because of its global appeal, is not only able to absorb such changes
but actually seems to welcome them. We are blessed with a wide vocabulary with
many words borrowed, stolen or high-jacked from other languages. This gives us,
as writers, the ability to express our ideas with some niceness (I use the word
in its sense of 'accuracy'). If we wish to express an idea for which there's no
real English word, we can employ one from a foreign language, knowing that in
most cases it will be both understood and accepted. So, to express the idea
that a girl is in a state of romantic attachment to a man she intends to marry,
we call her a 'fiancée', borrowing the term from our cousins over the Channel.
And, is there an English equivalent for that wonderfully expressive German
word, 'Schadenfreude'? (For those who don't know, it means enjoying, in a
malicious way, the misfortune of another.)
Our common language,
evolving from influences of Latin, early French, ancient Greek, the dialects of
the Norse invaders, Celtic and Germanic origins, has borrowed words from all
over the world. The days when Great Britain ruled a vast empire ensured that we
collected many exotic words from lands as diverse as India, Tasmania, Borneo,
Argentina, China and Egypt to mention but a few. With the development of the
early United States of America, when peoples from all over Europe mingled with
the native populations they eventually displaced, many more words were absorbed
into the growing language.
It's said that English, as
used worldwide, now contains over one million different words. That's one huge
mine from which to excavate the words you need to express your ideas with
clarity and exactitude.
So, this is a plea for
flexibility harnessed to sensible and accurate usage of language. Metaphor and
simile encourage writers and readers to expand their understanding of language
and, providing such linguistic expeditions don't remove the reader from a
recognisable landscape, they can act as a means of broadening horizons for all.
It really would be wicked
of you not to indulge in the full splendour of our common language to make your
writing as wicked as you can, don't you think?
A question for you to
ponder: Why do folk say they 'slept
like a baby' when babies wake up so often?
4 comments:
Sorry Stuart, but I positively hate the use of the buzzword 'organic' commonly misused today. To me organic can only ever truly be associated with something which grows out of the ground.:)
Interesting, Jack. But the SOED, my preferred dictionary, lists 'organic' as meaning 'organised, systematic' since the early 19th century, so hardly a new use as used here. I agree, however, that it has been taken up and used where it does not belong. Here, I use it metaphorically, since the piece is about the natural growth of language and how it changes with common usage.
It's only to their sleep-deprived parents that babies seem never to sleep. In fact, they sleep a lot and soundly. But maybe the phrase to sleep like a baby should morph to mean someone who sleeps well and long but causes sleep deprivation in others. Some bosses fit that bill.
The stats are probably true, Penny: you usually have your facts right, after all. But it still begs the question first posed, since the expression is generally used by people who have experienced that very deprivation. You'd think they would be biased against the idea that babies sleep soundly, wouldn't you?
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