ShamWow

At 14:57 - 15:10 you'll find the first known use (the first known to me, at any rate) of "ShamWow" in an extended sense:

AMF, Part III

"AMF" being "Antique Mental Furnishings," and this entry being more from guest blogger Ammon Shea. I've been challenging him with Word Fugitives that I imagine might already have been captured somewhere in a 20-volume dictionary "on historical principles," as the OED explains its MO, and Ammon has been gamely trying to turn up applicable words. Now come to find out he's not necessarily in favor of bringing these words back into the living language. He tells me:

"I wouldn't say that I am opposed to these words being resurrected, but I don't know that they are terribly useful for conversational purposes.  That being said, I don't think that a word has to be used out loud in order to be enjoyed.  I find the greatest pleasure in words come from having them bounce about my head, as opposed to trying to shoehorn them into conversation.  But I also feel that one of the purposes of words is that they be enjoyed and savored, and so I'm happy if someone wants to do that through using them in speech."

"I'm looking for a word to describe the activity -- sometimes accidental, sometimes intentional -- of reading others' output from a shared office printer."

"I think it depends on whether the reading you're doing is intentional or not.  If it is an honest mistake, I would say that ignotism (a mistake made from ignorance) fits the bill.  But if your perusals of the shared copier are done with intent then I would recommend a word more along the lines of vetanda (things that should not be done) to describe the activity.

"I don't know if it is still kept current, but several hundred years ago the Church of Rome had a thing called the Expurgatory Index, a list of writings that were forbidden to be read unless they had been expurgated.  Perhaps you could institute a secular expurgatory index at your office." 

I like "vetanda" -- particularly if the people doing them do them on the veranda. 

Myriad ways to say it

I'm feeling a wee bit trivial as everybody else argues about the election or the economy and I slog along minding our language. All I can say in my defense is that readers continue to show an interest. For example, this just in, from a reader named Wanda Lee:

YES! I have a language question! Mine is something that grates like chalk on a blackboard when I read it--but if editors at publishing companies don't correct it I figure I must be the one in the wrong. Please straighten this out for me.

"Myriad" or "a myriad of"? I've always considered "myriad" itself to mean the same as "a lot of," but now it seems either usage is OK with publishers. "A myriad of" reads to me the same as "a a lot of of" or "a many of of." To tell you the truth, I hope I'm wrong so I can get over it annoying me so because I think it's here to stay!

Thank you for a service that is so helpful--to some of us.

Wanda, just as you hoped ...

The "myriad" you like is a perfectly good adjective, as in this snippet from the Iowa City Press-Citizen:

Brian Flaherty, chairman of the Johnson County Democratic Party, ... added that myriad issues from health care to the war in Iraq to the nation's standing in the world have inspired people to volunteer.

But the word is also a perfectly good noun, as in this recent AP story:

A sampling of presidential campaign-oriented direct mail from some of the battlegrounds reveals a myriad of messages. 

Or this from the Seattle Post-Intelligencer: 

It's difficult to tell how large the Obama or McCain campaigns' online networks are -- or how many e-mail addresses either have gathered.

But for Washington voters, that combined with a competitive gubernatorial race and a myriad of other hotly contested races and ballot measures could mean a lot of extra lunchtime reading -- or a lot of deleting.

(Well, yes, those bits are from political news -- language is relevant to everything!)
In fact, the noun came first, appearing in texts from the mid 1500s, whereas the adjective wasn't invented until almost 200 years later. And -- get this -- originally it meant 10,000 of anything, especially soldiers. So if an enemy force decimated a myriad ... Who wants to do the math?

Wanda, may I suggest you start thinking of "myriad" as roughly synonymous with both "numerous" and "a number of" or "plentiful" and "plenty of"? 

Antique mental furnishings, Part II

See Part I for an explanation of what we're doing here.  

Felicity Carter, of Neustadt/Wein, Germany, writes: "We've got the word schadenfreude for taking pleasure in the misfortune of others. But where is the word for when the fortune of others makes you miserable -- for instance, when your rival succeeds. As Gore Vidal said, 'Whenever a friend succeeds, a little something in me dies.'"

Ammon Shea replies: I'm always amazed at how easy it is to overlook the obvious gems of our language.  This is a great question, and I knew I'd seen this exact word somewhere.  So I started digging through several years of notes, looking for the appropriate obscure term that would match this definition.  I came across stomaching (feeling or cherishing indignation or bitterness), and hindermate (a companion who is a hindrance), but these words are only in the same general area. 

Ingrudge (secret enmity) is a bit closer, as is Job's comforter (a person who aggravates distress under the guise of administering comfort), but neither of these has the core meaning that we're looking for: the sense of discontent at the success of another. 

And then I finally decided to check the words that we all know, just to see if perhaps one of them had an earlier meaning of which I was unaware that might match.  The first word I looked up, envious, is defined in the OED as 'vexed or discontented at the good fortune or qualities of another.'  So there you have it, although I'm still partial to grudgement (envy, resentment).

Antique mental furnishings, Part I

When I visited Oxford, a couple of weeks ago, I made the acquaintance of Ammon Shea, the author of Reading the OED. For his book, Ammon (whose name rhymes with "backgammon," he tells me -- funny how even in print it's hard to get past words and names that one doesn't know how to pronounce) plumbed the dictionary's depths and brought back an assortment of obscure but interesting words.

Ammon would like to see some of these antiques restored and put to use again -- an idea that has a lot of appeal in this recycling-conscious era. Word Fugitives, of course, specializes in shiny new words custom-made to meet current needs; Ammon's is a different approach to the same problems. I challenged Ammon to find old words that would fulfill some recent Word Fugitives requests. Here's one, with more to come in the days ahead:

Sarah Selzer, of Phoenix, writes: "If you hibernate to stay warm during the winter, what do you call it when you stay inside during the summer to stay cool?"

Ammon Shea replies: "Speaking for myself, I call it common sense, never having understood the urge that overtakes so much of humanity and causes them to suffer the afflictions of crowds, beaches, picnics, and the like in the summer.  The OED, however, would likely call it æstivation, which they define as 'The act of remaining dormant or torpid during the dry season, or extreme heat of summer; summer-sleep.  Opposed to hibernation.'"

People with "up"

"Up" is an industrious little word, always looking for new ways to make itself useful. 

From the cover piece in today's New York Times Magazine, quoting a member of John McCain's inner circle:

"So the thinking was, do you man up and try to affect the outcome, or do you hold it at arm's length? And no, it was not an easy call."

From Dahlia Lithwick in Slate yesterday: 

It's become a truism of elections that both camps will "lawyer up" before the big day. 

"to request a lawyer when being questioned by the police, often implying a probable lack of cooperation with the investigation."

Mixed Cardboard Only

The linguist Geoffrey Pullum is really onto something here, explaining the mindset that results in off-kilter notices and signs like "Mixed Cardboard Only" on a recycling bin. Reminds me of a joke postcard I've seen, with a photo of an almost naked woman gripping a racket and reaching to hit a tennis ball, beneath a sign that reads "Tennis Shoes Only to Be Worn on Court." In fact, it reminds me of countless bizarre signs. What were they thinking? I get it now.

"Why can't us?" Oh, please.

Walking the walk = talking the talk

I often find myself trying to explain why linguistic fine points -- like using "they" as a singular pronoun -- matter. I don't believe it's just a question of snob appeal. The latest explanatory term I've latched onto is "cultural signifier." It's a bit too ivory-tower for my taste, but I don't know a better one. The idea is that the linguistic fine points we pay attention to -- the accent we have, the vocabulary we use, the knowledge of traditional grammar we exhibit -- say something about us. They hint at both the culture we come from and our place in that culture, and there's no getting away from this.

November Word Fugitive

Joanna Carr's "busy cities" are certainly where this problem is most noticeable, but I've experienced versions of it even on hiking trails in the wilderness:

Joanna Carr, of London, writes, "I often wish I had a word (to mutter under my breath) for people with absolutely no horse sense when using public transport or in crowds. You know, the ones who get off the top of the escalator and stop dead, people who swerve into your path, people who walk four abreast. Surely a good descriptive noun is long overdue in busy cities everywhere?"

Suggestions in the form of comments are more than welcome. Or e-mail them to me.

Your questions answered

In a previous entry, I asked if there was anything you'd like me to ask the editors of the Oxford English Dictionary while I was among them. Here are answers to a couple of questions that might be of general interest:

When "meh" gets added.

Actually, the question isn't "when" but "if." Before they add a word, the OED editors need about 10 years' worth of print (or now Internet) citations, to show that the word has staying power. Fiona McPherson, the editor in charge of new words, explained, "Once it goes in, it never comes out."

Next question, which arrived in e-mail:

The accepted spelling of the conjugation of the present tense of the verb "try" is as follows:

I try, you try, he/she tries, we try, they try

Then you have the noun, "three tries at bat."  Is there a reason (origin) why he/she tries is not spelled at he/she trys, so that the verb has a different spelling than the noun?

I'd rephrase that question more generally as: Why do most words that end in "y" (for instance, "try") switch to "ie" in the plural and in certain verb forms?
 
According to Philip Durkin, the head of the OED's etymology section, in the Middle English period people freely wrote either "y" or "i" in words like "try," as they pleased. But as spellings regularized, the general feeling was that "y" looked good at the end of a word but not so much in the middle of one. Hence the switch we make from "y" to "ie" when the word form ends in "s." It's a "graphic convention," Durkin said.

Dictionary dreams?

I've moved on from Oxford physically, and so I shall virtually -- but first: A highlight of the visit was a panel discussion in the Bodleian Library, with Lynda Mugglestone, the author of Lost for Words, introducing and moderating; Simon Winchester, speaking entertainingly about the history of the OED; John Simpson, the editor in chief of the OED, talking about the dictionary as it is now; and Ammon Shea, talking about the discoveries he made while researching and writing his new book Reading the OED. (For local color and visuals of the library, see Maud Newton's blog -- Maud was also at Oxford for the dictionary celebration.)

It was such a treat to be among people who take dictionaries seriously, each in his or her (I admit I mustn't say "their" -- but I still wish I could) own way. It was a treat to be in a place where the future of dictionaries is considered to merit visionary thinking -- not to mention money.

I'll write later about the ways in which I think dictionaries are often misused and misunderstood. If you have any stories to share about misuses or misunderstandings, or any ideas about what future dictionaries might look like, do tell.

A few more ...

... that belong on our (increasingly comprehensive) "Never Would be Soon Enough" list:

When this is all over, certain half-dead words will need to be put out of their misery with a quick bullet to the back of the head. My candidates for a mercy verbicide: pivot, tank, cave, pushback, gravitas, message, game-changer,challenges, the entire litany of Palinesque nouns, attack dog, battleground,pork-barrel, earmark, impacting, and impactful. Other words that are too important to be executed will need to undergo a long and painful rehabilitation before they can be safely used again: change, experience, straight, truth, lie,victory, character, judgment, populist, and élite.

Continue reading "A few more ..." »

The Limits of Quantification, Part II

Over the past couple of days I've had a chance to see the Oxford English Corpus in action, and I'm really impressed. Covetous. The thing contains 2 billion words of text (and counting), making it by far the largest linguistic corpus in existence. All of the sources are 21st-century, and every passage is meticulously tagged as to whether it's British, American, Canadian, Australian, etc., and whether it's from news, fiction, blogs, online chat rooms, medical journals ... Naturally, the tags make it possible to pick apart usage in the different realms. If you want to see sentences containing the word "balloon" in British fiction or in American medical literature (where it's not as scarce as you might suppose, owing to "balloon angioplasty"), no problem. Click, click, hit "Enter," and the passages line up neatly on the screen.

The developers of the corpus have tried to make the text as representative a sample of contemporary English as possible. Which of course gets me thinking, What does that mean? Certainly, the developers have given a lot more thought to this question than I have. They're obviously smart, experienced, and passionate about their work - I'm not at all skeptical of them. I would love to get my hands on the corpus. But I can't help being skeptical that anything anyone could come up with could be "representative" of contemporary English. Have I zeroed in on a fundamental design problem, a fundamental problem with the nonspecialist's relationship to technology, or a fundamental problem with my state of mind?

Collocations vs. cliches

Written yesterday:

"Every mother ... they"

Andrew Sullivan has an entry about "s/he," or, really, the singular "they" with a collegial link that I'll gladly take as an invitation to weigh in on the subject: 

Off to Oxford

Sorry not to be chattier -- yet. I've been busy getting ready to leave tomorrow for Merrie Olde England, to attend a celebration in honor of the Oxford English Dictionary's 80th anniversary. (I can hardly believe that the OED is only 80 years old!) For now, three things to say: 

Never would be soon enough

A few phrases, like "that one" and "lipstick on a pig," achieved instant notoriety in the current election season after one of the candidates said them once and everybody pounced. But others seem to come up again and again just because somebody can't stop himself or herself or themselves.

Here's a short list of words and phrases of this latter kind. I, for one, would be grateful not to hear or read any of these again until 2009, or 2012 -- or ever:  

a heartbeat away
hockey mom
my friends
maverick
Wall Street vs. Main Street
what he doesn't understand
the most important election in history

October Word Fugitive

Let's test the new word-fugitive delivery system. I've already received suggestions for the October word fugitive (below) by the old-fashioned route. But more are more than welcome, so feel free to post your word inventions as comments. Anything that appears here will be considered for inclusion in my write-up in the magazine. Except, please send requests for new words to me directly, by way of the Word Fugitives form.

Michael McWatters, of New York City, writes, "I use a computer for the better part of my waking life, and I've noticed that certain repetitive keyboard tasks are making their way into my non-computer life. For example, I recently knocked a jar off the counter, and a little voice inside yelped, 'Command-Z!' (the keyboard shortcut for Undo). Ditto for the time I accidentally ripped a page in a book. A friend mentioned that she recently lost her keys and thought, 'Command-F' (Find). There should be a term for this confusion, as it's only going to become more common."

Youthiness, nonchronformism, etc.

This blog, besides being a soapbox for me, gives those of you who are Word Fugitives enthusiasts a place to post your word inventions where other readers can admire them. You'll be able to see what others have come up with, too. (If you're shy, you don't have to post publicly - use the form at the upper right. BTW, please don't post Fugitives requests in the comments section if you hope to see them published in the magazine. Use the form.)

There has never been enough space in the magazine to share all the clever suggestions readers make to fill a given word need. Here are runners-up that almost found their way into print in response to "Please help me find an appropriate word for the reluctance or aversion of many persons (young or old) to revealing their true age." The readers I've credited aren't necessarily the only ones to have suggested their particular coinages; they're the ones whose wording caught my eye. Apologies to anyone I left out. Feel free to claim credit, if credit is due, in a post of your own.

Kostis Protopapas, of Tulsa, OK: "The aversion to revealing one's age could be described as "cryptogenarianism"."

Paul Gembus, of Topanga, CA: "First of all, since I am living in Southern California, this discussion puts an interesting spin on the concept of "New Age Living." Those individuals who are frequently shearing years from their ages should be cited for "underage thinking.""

Emily Jones, of Newtown, CT: "I've only seen it in older people, and I'd suggest either committing an unyouth, or the act of being unyouthful."

Janet Parrish, of Oakland, CA: "That tendency not to reveal one's age? duhhh: Obfuscageon. Of course."

John S. Stevens, of Chicago, IL: "For many years, people have guessed that I am many years older than I am.  Strangely, that still makes me one of those who has feelings of annumosity.  Though one might say of a fellow who has a strong case of annumosity that he is a Secret Age Gent."

David Viator, of Houston, TX: "An aversion to revealing one's true age is certainly epochryphobia.  The false age is epochryphal once spoken."

Jamie Labas, of Calgary, Alberta: "How about a "nonchronformist"?"

Saskia Wolsak, of Vancouver, BC: "The false age that they give you? It's an "era-similitude"."

Karl G. LaPinska, of Albuquerque, NM: "The most appropriately descriptive word to me is "ageless.""

Michael Marris, of Auckland, New Zealand: "I can only imagine that people - young and old and even down here in the Antipodes - who are reluctant to reveal their ages would constitute the "coy polloi"."

Geoffrey R Webster, of Grasse, France: "A few moments ago I was relating to my french wife that normally the Atlantic Monthly gets to me in the South of France to late to submit to the Word Fugitives. This time the July August issue gave me an opportunity to submit before the deadline {my other submission  - obsessive compulsive dishorder}. I then related my thoughts for a submission for the aversion to reveal age which is verititis or veracititis. She replied, 'Oh no- what about lie-ager, you know like teenager.' So there, you now have three submissions!"

Wayne Zafft, of Westwood, MA: "When someone is unwilling to give you their true age, they will instead give you their chronododgical age, often expressed in might-years."

Michael Sang, of Caldwell, NJ: "Those that have an "aversion...to revealing their true age" could be said to have ageita."

Gregg Cherrington-Kelly, of Grand Forks, B.C.: "spanless."

Stephen Hawk, of Sugar Grove IL: "In a nod to Stephen Colbert's coinage of "truth-y-ness," that which approximates the [actual] truth, I suggest "youth-y-ness." as in, "When asked her age, her answer had the ring of  youth-y-ness.""

Bill Hoskyn, of Tacoma, WA: "I seriously doubt that most age fabrications are premeditated.  Rather, when people are asked, "How old are you?," they come down with a sudden case of age fright."

Leslie Maxfield and S. George Djorgovski, of Altadena, CA: "People who do this are being disagenuous."

Connie Day, of Jericho, VT: "As one sometimes reticent to reveal my age, I am among the "close-monthed.""

Jay Fialkoff, of New York, N.Y.: "anniversarial"

Doug Drown, of Bingham, ME: "CIRCUMANNUATION: going around and around the matter of one's age without ever quite answering the question."  

Lee Bash, of Austin, Texas: "In response to Mr. Brown's request for a word describing the aversion some (older people, in this case) have to revealing their true age, and to, perhaps,  re-draw the age boundary, I submit to you the word gerimeandering."

Max Raskin, of Summit, NJ: "As a high school student, I am used to my friends trying to conceal their age with fake IDs. They are adolesenescent. Similarly the elderly are always geriatricking themselves (and others) into believing they are younger."