An inveterate verbophile, I’ve always been interested in words, what they mean, why they mean, why they can hurt and heal. Remember that bit of doggerel about “sticks and stones” that may “break my bones”?
I like to think my vocabulary is on par with the next person’s, but even after seven decades of pondering, deciphering, memorizing and manipulating words, I often come across new ones. A friend and frequent contributor to this column, Bruce Wertz, hit his Facebook friends with a word that is new to many: “hyperpolysyllabicomania.” Thanks to some fairly predictable Greek and Latin roots, we can figure out that Bruce’s new entry has to do with “ultra,” ”many,” “syllables” and a passion, as in the ending, “mania.” So without even looking up the definition, we safely come up with Bruce’s passion for long words.
But beyond long words, what about those with prefixes that connote similar things? For example, think of the myriad words beginning with “sp” that suggest water: spill, spurt, splash, sputter. How many more can you add to the list without consulting a dictionary?
And just recently (“recently” for a person my age could span decades, eons), I became familiar with the “fl” prefix which suggests rapid movement. Try it: fling, flick, flay, flip. Now, provide some of your own.
For about the hundredth time, I’ve made the assertion that it’s a miracle that people learn to speak English. A long-time friend, Fred Hunt, who passed away at a young age, moved to Germany to study medicine, convinced that tuition on that side of the Atlantic was much more affordable than in the states.
Well, that move required him to learn German. Years after graduating from medical school and practicing in Santa Rosa and Las Vegas, he told me that German, though not necessarily easier than English, has some features you can count on, such as the fact that nouns in German begin with a capital letter.
And with few exceptions, such as the Spanish words for “map,” “nation” and “hand,” nouns in Spanish often end with an “o” if masculine and “a” if feminine.
So, how do people learn English? We’ve all heard the spelling formula that “it’s ‘i’ before ‘e,’ except after ‘c.’” That CAN be helpful, until you look at the many exceptions, such as height and sleigh, which may or may not contain the “ay” sound.
Of course, if we’ve never heard the sound in question, how do we learn to spell it?
Yes, English is a strange language. Here are some random thoughts about it:
- There is a northernmost but not a northernmore;
- There’s no earthly reason why there can’t positive shades to negative words such as “nonplussed” and “uncouth.”
- Spelling and pronunciation are unpredictable. A master’s thesis written by a New Mexico native devoted several pages to the notion that “the plural of ‘foot’ is ‘feet,’ but the plural of ‘boot’ isn’t ‘beet.’”
- There’s no earthly reason for not allowing the contraction “amn’t” into the language. We will ask, “aren’t you?” and “isn’t he?” Why then is it such a crime to use “amn’t I?” in expressions like “I’m innocent, amn’t I?” No-oo, unless we use the overly formal and stiff “am I not?” we need to employ the “correct” contraction, “aren’t I?” Are I right about this?
- The English language is fraught with exceptions. One can spend hours mulling over the many vowel sounds that the “ou” combination yields, such as “cough,” “tough,” “plough” and “though.”
- What puzzles me is not so much the frequency of “silent” letters in words but the sounds of letters that simply aren’t there. There is an “r” in kernel but not in colonel, which sounds the same.
A German-born acquaintance introduced herself as “Heidi.” It’s a common-enough name, and it prompted me to say I’d heard a faint “r” sound in that name, as in “Heider.” Emphatically Heidi told me her name has no such letter or sound. But yet, I know I heard it, and I soon feared Heidi might surmise I has teasing her, ridiculing her pronunciation of her own name.
A host of language teachers have been known to put the following words on the board on the first day of class (I tried it the VERY first time I taught a class): phtholognyrrh and ghoti. Those words are supposed to represent the English words “turner” and “fish.”
Here’s how: phth- is part of phthisic, a medical term with a silent “ph”; “olo” appears in “colonel,” “gn” shows up in “sign” and “the word “myrrh,” one of the gifts of the magi, contains the “er” sound.
As for “ghoti,” the first two letters make the sound of “f,” as in “cough; the “o” appears in “women” and the “ti” can be found in “nation.” And that gives us f-i-sh.
“Turner” and “fish” might make for a brief diversion during class time, but it’s difficult to make a real point about spelling by using these examples, as words simply don’t ever begin with “olo” or “nyrrh” or “gh.”
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A quirk in the English language, alluded to above, appears in the following list of words, all of which have something in common. Can you find it?
receipt, whistle, handkerchief, align, knead, column, guide, debt, halfpenny, psychology