Wordwork|play

Diversions for Logophiles and Verbivores

If you are a logophile and have some time on your hands, check out the links below:

Etymologic! the toughest word game on the web

• very addictive game, not only because of the learning opportunity, but also because of the words accompanying one's score
• do not start this, unless very disciplined, if you are in danger of procrastinating on something that should really be occupying your time--it's a great enabler

If you've played the game and are hooked, and/or were humiliated by a low score and want to learn more, here's some help:

• Wordorigins.org--neat and informative site with a big list of word and phrase origins, a blog, forum, and lots of further resources.
• Online Etymology Dictionary--handy, searchable online dictionary of etymology where one may quickly look up the history of a word

Verbivores may like, be frustrated and/or entertained by, the eggcorn. Don't know what an eggcorn is? Go to The Eggcorn Database to find out and see lots of examples and discussion of the eggcorn. I personally find the eggcorn, while sometimes amusing, very frustrating--it's just another sign of failing education systems and the dumbing down of culture.

Anyway, play, laugh, cry, beat your head against the wall, and above all, enjoy!

Anti-Arab Bias in Dictionary Definitions

Though not much has happened on Wordwork|play for a few months, it has not been abandoned. It has merely been left to lie fallow for a while. I have continued to read, watch, think, and yes, cook, but I haven't done much writing. There is still more change afoot at my day job, and I'm moving to Hamilton at the end of June, but the change is now more measured and controlled. I think I'm almost ready to resume more regular writing here.

As for watching and thinking, my partner and I watched the 1997 biopic Wilde recently, a fascinating and ultimately frustrating biographical story in which two terms, used quite casually, got me thinking again about anti-Arab bias in dictionary definitions. On a few occasions, the dialogue contained the terms arab and street arab, terms with which neither of us were familiar, though negative connotations were clear.

A few days later, indeed within the same week, I came across this article from the Jordan Times about Merriam-Webster's decision to drop entries considered offensive to Arabs and Muslims. The terms at the center of the protest to Merriam-Webster, by Zarka University president Ishak Ahmad Farhan and the Professional Associations Council president Wael Saqqa, were anti-Semitism and arab. They would like to see the entries for these terms changed and/or dropped from the next edition.

While I would never suggest the dropping of entries from a dictionary or thesaurus, and indeed find it of the utmost importance that they be retained, I do believe that, as with other offensive and racist terms, the entries need to be clear about the fact that they are offensive and reference the context out of which they arose. Leaving them as they are serves not only to perpetuate negative racial stereotypes, but leads the reader to believe that these negative images are still held by the editors and publishers.   

So I did some investigating. My 2003, 2nd Edition Oxford Dictionary of English does not list the lowercase arab on its own, but does list street Arab as "noun archaic a raggedly dressed homeless child wandering the streets." The online Webster Dictionary lists Arab as "n. 1. One of a swarthy race occupying Arabia, and numerous in Syria, Northern Africa, etc.," and as a subcategory, "Street Arab a homeless vagabond in the streets of a city, particularly and (sic) outcast boy or girl." YourDictionary has, as definition 5 under Arab, "a waif left to roam the streets; street Arab." It lists street Arab separately as well. In my cursory search, only the Free Dictionary mentioned, in its definition, that it was 'sometimes offensive'.

The definition of anti-Semitism is another example. Semite is defined, in the Oxford Dictionary, as "noun a member of any of the peoples who speak or spoke a Semitic language, including in particular the Jews and Arabs." It is followed by an etymological reference to "Sem 'Shem', son of Noah in the Bible, from whom these people were traditionally supposed to be descended." Semitic is defined as "adjective 1 relating to or denoting a family of languages that includes Hebrew, Arabic, and Aramaic and certain ancient languages such as Phoenician and Akkadian, constituting the main subgroup of the Afro-Asiatic family. 2 relating to the peoples who speak these languages, especially Hebrew and Arabic."

The prefix anti-, as most of us know, stands for against, or opposed to. But put it in front of Semitic and it doesn't simply mean opposed to or against Semites. As pointed out in the aforementioned article, Webster's Third New International Dictionary, Unabridged, defines anti-Semitism as: “opposition to Zionism: sympathy with opponents of the state of Israel.” What of the anti-Arab sentiment in which a great deal of the Western media and Hollywood blockbusters are soaked? Is this almost fashionable opposition to Arabs and Muslims, a people clearly defined as Semitic, not then anti-Semitism? It clearly is. But not according to our dictionaries.

I checked the definitions for a number of other offensive and racist terms -- Chink, gook, Jap, Kraut, nigger, and wop -- in my Oxford English dictionary and found all of them prefaced with 'informal, offensive' or some such acknowledgment. I think it's time the editors and publishers of modern English dictionaries did the same for terms offensive to Arabs. Leave the terms and definitions in the dictionaries, but at the very least be clear about the fact that they are offensive. And why not include a little historical context? Check arab and anti-Semitism at the Online Etymological Dictionary. There we find that the offensive definition of arab has to do with a settled people's bias against nomadic peoples. As for anti-Semitism, it is acknowledged that, though most commonly used to mean anti-Jewish, the term is not restricted to such use. It even suggests that "[t]hose who object to the inaccuracy of the term might try H. Adler's Judaeophobia (1882)." Why not use anti-Semitism as a general term for 'theories, actions, or policies' that are against Semites in general, and use more restrictive terms with reference to a specific Semitic people, i.e. Judaeophobia, Islamophobia, anti-Jewish, anti-Arab, anti-Assyrian, and so on?

Time, Money & Medieval Literature: A New Translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight: A New Verse Translation

As mentioned in the lead-in to a recent post, "Texts in Translation: Kalima and Translation into Arabic," I have more than a passing interest in, and fascination with, medieval literature, as also with translation. But because I am overburdened with student debt, still, I have neither the time nor money to pursue this interest in earnest. Certainly not by way of another university degree--my three have nearly buried me in debt. But on to the matter of this post.

I came across a review of a new translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight in the "Sunday Book Review" of the New York Times a few days ago--"A Stranger in Camelot." Though I prefer to read such texts in the original, in this case Middle English, I do understand the need for modern English translations that render the text intelligible to readers who struggle overmuch with older forms of English. Many, perhaps most, high school and university students today struggle even with Shakespearean English, so one cannot really expect them to tackle even earlier stuff.

I haven't read this translation yet, though I hope to do so in the near future. Apparently Armitage presents the Middle English original in a parallel text, much like Seamus Heaney did in Beowulf: A New Verse Translation, a copy of which I have and treasure in my personal library. When a new translation reproduces, as nearly as possible, the spirit and cadence of the original text, it is a joy to read and gives the modern reader a feel for the original. Especially important, as pointed out by Edward Hirsch, is an adequate reproduction of alliteration, the poetic device of choice in early English writing. I, personally, much prefer alliteration and assonance to rhyme as a poetic constraint.

The linguistically adventurous can read the new translation, then work their way through the original. Fun, fun, fun!

On the Power of Polished Writing

I see certain misuses and abuses of written English all over the place. I see people confusing 'there', 'their', and 'they're'. I see people confusing 'then' and 'than'. I see improperly placed apostrophes, improper pluralization, and false back-formations. The really sad thing is that these errors are appearing all over the place--billboards, magazines (both in ads and in articles), newspapers (both large and small), personal and business websites and, of course, workplace memos.

I don't mind neologisms and slang in certain contexts, nor (though it took me a while to get comfortable with this) the use of the plural pronoun to eliminate gender bias, nor abbreviated, modified, shorthand forms in internet chat programs. But please, please, take some time to check your work when publishing material, whether on the workplace intranet, the internet, or print media!

Seeing these errors in corporate e-mails and memos is irritating enough. Seeing them in advertisements and on corporate websites is, quite frankly, off-putting. Seeing them with increasing regularity in newspapers and magazines is simply ridiculous! Are our schools not imparting language skills anymore, passing on elementary language skills like punctuation, spelling and grammar? We all make a typo here and there or forget how to spell a word, but little errors and misuses such as the above are indicative of improper/incomplete education and/or carelessness. And as far as the print media is concerned, where the heck are the proofreaders and editors? Should they not be catching these things?

So what set this rant off today? Well, I read a memo at work wherein two increasingly common mistakes were made--'your' used in place of the contraction for 'you are', as in "your supposed to wear the company badge at all times," and an apostrophe used to pluralize, as in "visitor's are required to sign in." These errors irk me so. I've often thought, when confronted with such glaring errors at work, of stepping forward to become an unofficial proofreader/editor of corporate communications. But then, knowing my employer, I would likely end up with an extra workload and no concomitant pay raise.

Good writing packs more punch. A well written article is more likely to be taken seriously than one riddled with typos, spelling mistakes, grammatical errors, or punctuation problems. It works the same way if the content is spoken rather than written. The words of someone who speaks clearly and enunciates well will generally carry more weight. The same goes for inflection, but that is for another post.

Allow me to proffer an example from my university days to illustrate the power of polished writing. I had written an essay for a religious studies class in which, as the professor later pointed out, the argument was circular. I still got an A for the paper because, as the professor explained somewhat sheepishly, it was so well written and such a joy to read. Of course professors nowadays are also bombarded with horrendous writing, especially in first year classes, leading some English instructors to spend a significant portion of a first year English class on grammar and essay writing. Though feeling a mixture of elation and embarrassment at the time, I now think the professor made an error in judgment in overlooking the circular logic.

Rightly or wrongly, it pays to write well. That is not to say that one should follow Strunk & White to the letter. There is something to be said for the natural evolution of language, as with neologisms and slang, and much to be said for the creative and purposeful break from convention by those familiar with it, by those who know the rules. In the end, however, clear, correct, polished writing packs punch. You are well advised to write with care. And don't be shy about consulting a dictionary or style guide from time to time.

Gender Commentary and Punctuation Lesson in One

I stumbled across an interesting little anecdote that serves both as commentary on prevailing views on gender in society, or gendered views, and as a lesson in punctuation.

The following sentence, with word order intact, can have entirely opposite meanings depending on the punctuation used:

"A woman without her man is nothing"

One meaning is brought about with the help of two commas and a period: "A woman, without her man, is nothing." The opposite meaning is achieved by adding a colon, comma, and period: "A woman: without her, man is nothing."

The site on which I found this little punctuation lesson concluded with "Punctuation is everything," like the one-time slogan of the Globe and Mail, "Perspective is everything." It appears under the 'Fun' category of the website, so I don't know if the gender aspect was given much thought, or if so, which version the writer might identify with.

Anyway, while I wouldn't go so far as to say that punctuation is everything, I would say that it can be a crucial determiner of meaning. And as you can see, it can also tell us a bit about the writer, or to be more specific, the punctuator (Grammatical Aside: I can't seem to find a definitive answer on general semantic differences between -or and -er agentive endings, so I don't know which this word should have). Check out the original anecdote here.

Makeover: from Wordworking to Wordwork|Play

Above is my old banner for this site: Wordworking.

Let me tell you a little story about the word 'wordworking' to explain why the old banner has been taken down and the title bar no longer contains it.

In September 2006 I decided to create a new blog dedicated to serve as a platform for some of my writings, as also as a chronicle of sorts of my struggles and successes on the path to becoming a successful freelance writer. After wracking my brain for a while trying to find a suitable title for my blog, I had a flash of inspiration. Or so I thought. Woodworkers work with wood, so it follows that people who work with words ought to be called wordworkers. Punderful, I thought.

I'm quite certain I googled the word 'wordworking' and received no direct hits. Thinking myself rather clever, I set up my blog and got to work taking pictures and designing a banner on Gimp (a free program similar to Photoshop).

Recently, simply to see how readily my site could be found in Google's search engine, I googled it again (it's so neat that this has become a verb!). Amid the near hits I found wordworking.com, Nancy Friedman's business website. Damn! A logophile, or word nerd, like me, she actually calls herself Chief Wordworker. Her business involves naming, branding, and writing. She also has a blog , Away With Words, on typepad.

I sent her an e-mail telling her about my site, and how I had sincerely thought I had been inspired when I came up with the name. In response, she told me about the experience she had when she tried to register her trademark for Wordworking back in 1997. Her story was even stranger, but I won't recount it here as it was told to me in private e-mail correspondence. The point is that inspiration isn't always original. I suspect there isn't much fresh air left to inspire, literally or figuratively.

In a nod to Nancy, I decided to change the name of my blog, especially since my writing career is still in it's infancy. That's not to say I haven't written a great deal--you should see the stack of essays I have amassed from my three bachelors degrees! Since I was already reworking the name of my blog a bit, I thought it best to freshen things up by designing an entirely new banner.

(A side note about images and graphics on this site--except for those appearing in ads, all are my original work. I take my own digital photographs and design my own banners. I should probably put this type of legalese in the sidebar in the near future.)

Stumbling Tongue

(originally posted on my other blog, hybrid tumbleweed, 03-08-2006)

My tongue used to dance to the rhythm of three languages--Plautdietsch, German, and Spanish.  But now, like a dancer out of practise, it often hesitates, even stumbles.  Spanish was the first to fade, then German, and now even Plautdietsch, my mother tongue.

Plautdietsch, that old Low German language carried by the Russian Mennonites from the Vistula delta to Russia, North America and some Latin American countries, was the first language I learned.  It was for us, as for the larger community of Russian Mennonites in Mexico, strictly an oral language.  Writing was done in High German, but using the Gothic German script, especially by the Old Colony Mennonites.

Around the time of my birth my parents made the move from the Old Colony church to the EMMC, a modernised form of the faith.  Then, when I was five, converted by German missionaries, my family made yet another church move.  It was there, at the church-run school, that I learned both German and Spanish.  German was the language of instruction in the school and was thundered from the pulpit as well.  Instruction in Spanish, the language of our adopted country, began in grade two.

I was almost thirteen when we finally realised the dream of emigrating to Canada.  I was thrown straight into school and picked English up rather quickly.  It was my fourth language, and the one that would ultimately become my primary one. 

Spanish, in which I never gained complete fluency, was the first to fade.  I simply did not use it anymore.  German began to fade after I left the church for good.  I no longer had reason to speak it either.  The first to go was my confidence in grammatical rules.  Tenses, conjugations and declensions became confused.  Then words began to sound a little strange.  They didn't quite feel right in the mouth.  Then words began to recede from memory.  Interestingly, however, I can still pick up a book in German or Spanish, or a newspaper, and understand most of it.  But I can hardly produce anymore.

Most upsetting to me is that the same process is beginning to happen now with my mother tongue.  This also I don't have occasion to use all that much anymore.  English is the common language in which my partner and I communicate (Arabic is her mother tongue), and Plautdietsch is, aside from my immediate family, inextricably tied to the Mennonite faith.  After leaving both, the Mennonites (most of my relatives are still Mennonite) and the German church, I lost most contact with my relatives and their respective communities. 

Plautdietsch is inextricably connected, at least as far as I am aware, to the Mennonite faith.  I don't know of any non-religious people, or even non-Mennonite people that speak the language.  Even some of the online Plautdietsch sites tend to reference religious materials and events.  My last link with the language is through my parents.  I have informed them of what is happening and will try to use Plautdietsch whenever I speak with them.  Another difficulty that sometimes arises, getting in the way of even this, is that the language has not caught up to the modern world and tends to lack the words for an increasing number of things, both technological/scientific and social/cultural.

I am not giving up yet.  Indeed, I intend to read more books in German and Spanish, books related to research I'm doing anyway.  And as far as Plautdietsch is concerned, I will just have to speak it as often as I can.

(It has since been pointed out to me that there is indeed a Plautdietsch speaking population that is secular, yet has retained use of the language. See comment by Peeta Wiens--in Plautdietsch.)    

Expletives, obscenities, and swearing...

(originally posted on my other blog, hybrid tumbleweed, 03-19-2006)

Oh the power of words...  asshole, bitch, cunt, damn, faggot, fuck, hell, pussy, piss, shit, up yours, plus variations, combinations, and elaborations thereof... do I need to go on?  We have devised many words to express frustration and anger, and to express power relationships. 

We sometimes use expletives (swearwords, obscenities, curses, profanity, etc.) simply to blow off some steam, directing them not against anyone but merely into the air.  We use them at other times to let someone else know how we feel about a situation or indeed about them.  We also pepper our language with these colourful words to enhance and embellish, to add a certain umph to what we are saying.

What has really struck me about these words is what the vast majority of them seem to have in common.  At the most basic level, all swearwords are meant to inflict anything from discomfort to shame, indignation, and pain.  Many are uncomfortable because they break certain taboos, or because they blaspheme, or else because they refer to dirty or denigrating things.  Many refer to bodily funtions and excretions, or to sexual functions or objectifications, while others reference religion. 

A great number of swearwords specifically refer to the infliction of pain, discomfort or humiliation through sexual acts.  The word 'fuck' is frequently used simply to add force or emphasis, or to release frustration, but, because of its sexual reference, when used against another person it refers to the use of sex to humiliate and harm.  After all, when we say 'fuck you' to someone, we don't mean that we would like to have sex with or make love to them.  There is no tenderness or mutual consent implied here.  I think it really refers to sexual violence, to rape.  The same goes for the phrase 'up yours' and the gesture that usually accompanies it.  It signifies the infliction of anal pain via sexual or other insertion.

To those who may feel that I am pulling things out of thin air to argue against the use of expletives, let me say that I actually feel very conflicted about their use.  I do use them from time to time, but tend to use them simply to vent, or sometimes to add force to a statement, rather than directing them against people. 

I am not a religious person and therefore have no 'moral objection' to swearing.  But I am an ethical person, a thinking person, and I know that humanity has often used sexuality to hurt people.  Indeed, rape has often been a calculated part of war.  The Inquisition and the Crusades were full of tales of calculated, institutionalised sexual brutality.  And the reports of sexual violence and humiliation inflicted by American forces on prisoners at the Abu Ghraib facility (caution: very graphic and disturbing images) demonstrate that the practice has not been relegated to our history books, but is very much alive in so-called civilised societies.   

Expletives may be harmless, may help release tension, and can be quite fun.  However, they do reference a very dark aspect of humanity, or should I say inhumanity.  I really feel that if we use expletives, especially ones with sexual references, we should use them with a full awareness of the darker references inherent in them.   

Capturing a Metaphor

(originally posted on my other blog, hybrid tumbleweed, 04-22-2006)

I was driving along a small road near Rochelle, Illinois, a town about an hour northwest of Chicago, when I saw what must have been hundreds of tumbleweeds strewn about between the road and a high fence.  I just had to pull aside to take a closer look. 

These were not mere weeds by the roadside.  These were roadside metaphors.  These were my metaphors, for like the humble tumbleweed, Salsola Tragus, I too am a wanderer, tumbling through the world without an apparent sense of direction, uprooted, driven this way and that by the elements.  And like the tumbleweed, all too often, I get stopped in my tracks by a fence, get snagged on barbed wire.  There are too many fences in the world, too much barbed wire. 

Like the tumbleweed also, despite my seemingly aimless wanderings, despite my rootlessness, I carry within me a thousand little embryonic forms, a thousand creative offerings.  These I carry with me as I tumble, scattering them along my path.  Perhaps some will find fertile ground, take root along the way, take on lives of their own.  Maybe some will take root right here by the fence that blocks my way.

I must remember that a metaphor, like all beasts of burden, has its limitations, can only carry so  much weight.  I must not break its back, must not lay too much meaning upon it.  So I will leave it here and send it on its way.

Is it possible to capture a metaphor on film?  Maybe not, but I've tried.  Here is the beast, even if you cannot see the burden I have placed upon it: