Vest-Pocket Vocabulary
Tri’alogue, n. conversation of three persons.
Vest-Pocket Vocabulary
Tri’alogue, n. conversation of three persons.
Guest Post
This post was contributed by Martin French.
Ever since William Gibson described cyberspace as a “consensual hallucination,” a “graphic representation of data abstracted from the banks of every computer in the human system,” it has been possible to imagine that the internet produces an otherworldly space. So, for example, when I type the word blog into Google, it’s easy to overlook the architecture and material basis of Google. The network of real-world communication nodes, or data centres, the infrastructure that makes Google possible, isn’t, in any case, readily visible. This is also true of the internet more generally.
The invisibility of the internet’s real-world architecture is strange given its absolute necessity for cyberspace’s existence. These buildings and servers make it possible for meaning to traverse the gulf between binary code and pithy blog post. Without it, there would be no way to search our digital lexicon, no possible way for you to type the word blog into your computer and arrive here, at this post.
So what makes cyberspace materialize? There are several good texts that broach this subject—too many to list here—but, for starters, Janet Abbate’s Inventing the Internet provides a good account of the internet’s early history. For those who gravitate towards more esoteric texts, N. Katherine Hayles’s My Mother Was a Computer is a must-read. It offers a fantastic and thought-provoking presentation of the materiality of the “computational universe”. For those who gravitate towards more concrete texts, take a look at John Markoff and Saul Hansell’s New York Times article entitled “Hiding in Plain Sight, Google Seeks More Power”. This will give you a sense of what produces the results that pop up on your screen when you run a Google search. Taken together, these texts are sure to whet your appetite for thinking about the real-world materiality of digital words.
The contributor of the image of the Internet Network is Matt Britt. The image is copyrighted but also licenced for further reuse.
Vest-Pocket Vocabulary
Paucil’oquy, n. fewness of words.
Recommended Read
Crystal, David. Txtng: The gr8 db8. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 2008. [ISBN-13: 978-0-19-957133-8]
One of the most notable things about texting is the impressive furor that has accompanied its meteoric rise in popularity over the past ten years or so. David Crystal recounts some of the many dire warnings texting has occassioned, quoting John Humphrys, for instance, who writes in the Daily Mail online that texters are:
vandals who are doing to our language what Gengis Khan did to his neighbours eight hundred years ago. They are destroying it: pillaging our punctuation; savaging our sentences; raping our vocabulary. And they must be stopped.
Hyperbole aside, people are understandably worried about what this new form of communication and orthography might mean for the future of our language. There’s no question that past changes in genres and media—from sonnets to hip-hop lyrics, from scrolls to eBooks—have had real and lasting consequences for language. It’s only sensible to wonder how texting might change us. And for those of you who, unlike John Humphrys, are still making up your minds about texting, Crystal’s book is a great place to learn more. And I think you’ll find that your mind will be put at ease. [click to continue…]
Vest-Pocket Vocabulary
An especially famous example of this figure of speech can be found in Shakespeare’s Macbeth when Macbeth says “It is a tale/Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury/Signifying nothing.” He could have said “full of furious sound” but by using this figure of speech his words are more dramatic.
You can find a complete listing of the Word Blog’s Vest-Pocket Vocabulary entries and learn more about where they come from here.
Recommended Read
Prose, Francine. Reading Like a Writer: A Guide for People Who Love Books and for Those Who Want to Write Them New York: Harper Perennial, 2007. [ISBN-13: 978-0-06-077705-0]
Seeing Francine Prose speak last week galvanized me into finally posting on a book of hers I read last winter. Reading Like a Writer is your chance to sit in Prose’s classroom, where you’ll pull out your magnifying glass to examine just what it is that makes some of the finest books around really tick. This is a course in close reading that everyone can take.
Close reading is one of my favourite ways into the bones and sinews of a good book. You know the kind of book I mean—the book in which every word, detail, and turn of phrase feels as if it is the only one that could fit, as though it were somehow ordained from the beginning? Yeah, I’m remembering some of those books fondly right now…
But to get back to what I was saying, close reading asks you to slow down and ask yourself why the author chose that particular name for the little girl, why you don’t believe the aunt when she says she’s not drinking anymore, why it was Liberace playing on the radio when the taxi crashed. Each of these details reflects the broader story and each one can uncover another of its secrets.
Now, just as every good sleuth studies the case files of the great detectives who came before them, you can read Prose’s chapters on words, sentences, paragraphs, narration, character, dialogue, details, and gestures to learn how to unravel the mysteries your favourite books may still be concealing from you.
Prose provides a wealth of literary examples to show you what to look for: how Edith’s tepid and ill-fitting replies reveal that she’s just not that into Albert, how a boiled potato in a spreading pool of blood can make a scene more chilling, how the movements of a housefly can reveal the mind of its tormentor. After reading her examples, drawn from so many excellent books and stories, you’ll be glad to find that Prose has included all her sources in a list of “Books to Be Read Immediately.” And when you’re done this book, if you’re like me, you’ll be tempted to head back to all your favourite reads with an eye for what’s there that you haven’t yet seen.
Vest-Pocket Vocabulary
The readers have spoken and voted 42% in favour of this week’s awesome Vest-Pocket word. Thanks to everyone who voted, and fear not—you may yet see the definitions of abecedarian and affabrous on this blog if you’re patient.
Anacolu’thon, n. incoherence in a sentence.
Word in the Wild: Anacoluthons in writing are about as desirable as anchovies in birthday cake.
The word anacoluthon comes to us from Greek and means more specifically an instance of language that is wanting grammatical sequence. Of course correct English syntax is itself prone to change over time. Consider, for instance, the following quotations about sleeping dogs:
“It is nought good a sleeping hound wake.” —Chaucer, Troilus and Criseyde (III, 764)
“Let sleeping dogs lie.” —idiom familiar to millions of English speakers
“Leave the dog alone, for Pete’s sake—he’s sleeping.” —a colloquial speaker concerned about grumpy dogs
Chaucer’s sentence isn’t an anacoluthon, or at least is wasn’t when he wrote it, but it is evidence of how the “correct” grammatical sequence of words in English has changed over time.
This “correct” sequence of words also varies across geographies and cultures. In India, for example, where English is one of the official languages, the language has taken on astonishing syntactical flexibility in everyday use. Mark Abley, in his book The Prodigal Tongue, provides the following example from Anita Rau Badami’s novel The Hero’s Walk—rather than saying “But will you write to her?” one of her characters says “Will you write to her, but?” Though this construction might be found odd or just plain wrong in some English traditions, it is entirely usual in others.
So, to sum up, anacoluthons are bad for writing because they obscure meaning, but remember, what is considered an anacoluthon in one place or time may be perfectly grammatical in another.
You can find a complete listing of the Word Blog’s Vest-Pocket Vocabulary entries and learn more about where they come from here.
Vest-Pocket Vocabulary
Logoc’racy, n. government by the power of words.
Word in the Wild: Without these avenues that allow us to amend the law, the justice system risks becoming a totalizing logocracy.
Although “government by the power of words” may sound as if it is a form of government based on the power of rhetorical skill, it actually describes a society at the mercy of the inflexible words of an exalted code or text.
You can find a complete listing of the Word Blog’s Vest-Pocket Vocabulary entries and learn more about where they come from here.