What I Write When I Should Be Writing

Writing and reading are so seemingly essential to modern life, especially modern academic life. This might seem odd to people that believe that the advance of technology would destroy the written word. However, the internet has not devalued the written word but made it more powerful and omnipresent. Now, the majority of the American populace is literally surrounded at all times by more written information than ever before in human history. Furthermore, though places like Amazon may have “killed” (a ghastly metaphor) the brick-and-mortar bookshop (though not in all cases); they have not “killed” the print book. Indeed, this seems odd given the advance of devices and apps such as the Kindle, Google Books, and iBooks; for some, ebooks truly rule the day, but for many people physical books are still very much desired and used. Positing why this is the case can only be pure conjecture, utterly tainted by personal preference. However, I believe that the there is something in the physicality of tangible books that make them appealing to many people; there is also the aspect of visibility. It is impossible in most cases to tell from a passing glance what someone is doing on their smartphone, tablet, or laptop. Maybe they are reading an ebook, or maybe they are scanning Facebook; it’s a mystery. Whereas with a physical book there is no mystery, it is easy to tell at a glance when someone is reading a physical book. Moreover, I would hazard a guess, that a third aspect contributing to the continued presence of print books is a desire to differentiate activities.

There is a serious danger when one is reading on a screen to flit to something else, a game, a social media app, etc. This can seriously damage one’s reading; indeed, only the dedicated reader will not yield to temptation when a boring section of a book occurs. Clearly, there is a danger to flit between tasks with a physical book as well. It is all too easy to put a book down during that dull section. However, I would posit that there is a fundamental difference in these two types of task switching. Fliting between apps on a smartphone is as simple as putting down a book, but far less physical and, thus, (I would guess) far less memorable. Whereas after putting down a physical book it is still there in what can sometimes be oppressive physical omnipresence, reminding one of the task they’ve abandoned; switching apps on a smartphone is easily forgotten, it is easy from minute to minute to go from iBooks to Facebook to Twitter and on and on, without returning to iBooks. Closing out the app removes the presence of the book as does shutting down one’s Kindle or other e-reader. The book is in some sense gone, vanished, not, as with physical books, oppressively omnipresent. Giving up reading Gravity’s Rainbow on a reading app is much simpler than abandoning it physically. The file takes up no physical space, it does not stare one in the face every time they pass their bookshelf; in short, electronic books are more easily forgotten than physical books. Furthermore, I believe that many people probably want to differentiate their tasks, between “screen-time” and “non-screen-time;” especially with the growing body of evidence that screens are changing our brains [1]. I think it is safe to say that print books are going nowhere anytime soon. However, this does not get us any closer to why reading and writing are so fundamental.

It seems odd that something so artificial has shaped the modern world in more ways that it is really possible to fully comprehend. It is hard for any literate person to imagine a world without writing; I do not mean that it is hard to imagine what it is like to be illiterate. This is something, I think many can easily imagine, though I doubt many can understand the deeply unsettling emotionality of adult illiteracy. However, I think that to imagine being illiterate, or actually to be illiterate, presumes literacy. The lack assumes to the presence. To imagine being blind, or to be blind in reality, necessitates that sight exists. Similarly, illiteracy necessitates that reading and writing exist. This is why imagining a world totally without reading and writing is so difficult. However, stepping back from our phenomenal present existence and considering writing from a distance we can see that it is strange and artificial.

Speaking and listening are deeply natural for humans. We are linguistic creatures. This is evidenced by the fact that all humans in all places speak some language or another from infancy onward. Indeed, even deaf individuals develop and use language, though not spoken, that is deeply and structurally linguistic every bit equal to spoken language. Language is what people do. Many in the modern literate society, such as the United States, would unreflectively assume that writing is just as natural, evidenced, no doubt, by its omnipresence in society. However, upon reflection it becomes clear that writing isn’t natural. It is artificial. Consider indigenous societies that even today do not write. They are non-literate societies – NB they are not illiterate societies; they are non-literate, meaning that they live without writing and not without the knowledge of writing.  Of course, many of these indigenous populations are now illiterate societies, having been brought into contact with the written word. However, it should be clear that writing is not something natural in the same way that speaking (or signing) is natural.

Writing was invented a few times in a few places, the big ones are Mesopotamia, Egypt, China, and Mesoamerica; but there are other places where writing was invented, for example Crete and the Indus valley. For a long time a theory called monogenesis ruled the day. The theory held that writing was invented once, in Mesopotamia, and spread from there to Egypt; however, more recent finds have shown that the Egyptians invented writing on their own. Obviously, China and Mesoamerica (the Maya and Aztecs) were not in contact with the Mesopotamians, and thus could not have stolen writing from them; though this was, for obvious reasons, never seriously postulated. (Now, if certain people are correct, monogenesis may yet be saved, as obviously the aliens invent writing and gave it to everyone; but until there’s actual concrete evidence for these “aliens” it’s safe to say that the Egyptians and the Mesoamericans invented writing independently.) From these inventions of writing, the idea spread and morphed along the way. Soon Phoenician traders had developed what would become the alphabet, though they didn’t have vowels in their version. These traders spread their invention around the Mediterranean. The Greeks took hold of it changed some letters from “barbarian” sounds to vowels, thus creating the alphabet the majority of the world uses today (the “Latin” alphabet is an Italian variant of the Greek and the Cyrillic is a Slavic variant) [2]. All of this should show that writing is far from natural, in the sense of innate. It may have become naturalized because of its singular ubiquity but it is, nonetheless, created, artificial. Writing is an art and a gift that those of us in literate societies too often take for granted.

We’ve lost touch with the art of writing in two senses. The first is the rather forgivable loss of appreciation for the beauty of the written form, as handwriting and calligraphy slip more and more to the periphery; however, this loss is not so great given that writing began as something merely functional in many ways, after all most early examples of writing are basically accounting records. The second loss is much graver, we have, I fear, lost touch with the art of writing in a broad sense. By this I mean that we have lost the sense that there is an art to writing; that writing is something special, that it is something to be grateful for, and something to appreciate and cherish.  I fear that writing has become something so merely functional, so basic, and so base that it has lost all meaning to most literate people. It may be unclear what this loss means, but I fear that its implications are as deep and wide. If we forget that writing is something special we run the risk of relegating it to merely another technological tool, something to be used without much thought; something, moreover, to be abandoned if something better comes along. We forget that though writing is an artificial gift, it is a gift nonetheless, and has deeply changed our world. Forgetting the art of writing is forgetting the power of writing.

It cannot be denied that writing is the most power thing people have ever invented. This claim is bold but true. Certainly, inventions like the wheel, the utilization of fire, and guns have shaped the world and qualify as important inventions. However, the knowledge of these things can only be transferred in two ways: speech or writing. Indeed, the oral tradition is the older option, useful in many cases, but severely limited in scope. In the oral tradition things are passed down generation to generation in a direct line, this means that if any one part of the chain is broken the knowledge is lost. Since the oral tradition is also limited to the size of a human community, a break in the change is more likely than with writing. In writing, knowledge can skip a generation, or more, as long as the text isn’t lost. For example, it is possible for anyone to become a Scholastic scholar even if no one else in the family ever read St. Aquinas. Furthermore, unlike the oral tradition, writing is not limited to the size of any one human community; any one can learn the language of a text and read, regardless of their membership in a particular community. An additional benefit of writing is that written information is less prone to change in meaning than oral information. One need only think of the children’s game where something is whispered alone a chain of people and the message is changed, often extremely, by the end of the chain. Writing allows not only for the widespread and, generally, accurate transmission of technical knowledge for building wheels and weapons; it also, more importantly, allows for the spread of the most powerful thing in human history: ideas.

I believe that it is ideas that rule society and history. Indeed, to quote Ludwig von Mises [3]: “The history of mankind is the history of ideas. For it is ideas, theories, and doctrines that guide human action, determine the ultimate ends men aim at and the choice of the means employed for the attainment of these ends.” There is no better way to disseminate ideas than writing, itself an idea of sorts. Writing allows for the spread of ideas regardless of context, place, time, culture, or any number of factors that limit other means for spreading ideas. With the advent of the printing press the spread of ideas in writing grew faster, freer, and wider. With the ideals of universal education and literacy that blossomed in the mid twenty century, though never fully achieved, the advance of writing was finalized as universal. It is a tragedy that in all this the medium of advance has been largely forgotten and ignored; writing hardly receives a seconds thought as it is used to spread ideas around the globe. It is hardly considered that it is writing that heralded scientific revolutions, writing that convinced men to send armies to march across the globe to advance written ideas, writing that championed the ideals of world peace and an end to war, writing that simultaneously sent people to their deaths and promised that there would be death no more. Writing is a neutral tool as all tools are, the hammer can be used to destroy as well as to build, no less can writing. Nevertheless, it is the unique providence of writing to be that omnipresent tool that is used for every imaginable end. War and peace are penned in the same medium, racism and antiracism proclaimed with the same tool, theology and atheism championed in the same form. Writing and the advance of ideas, thus the advance of history, are inexorably linked. Writing as the basic representation of spoken language in symbols is often, unfortunately, overlooked and forgotten; its unique place in history and society overlooked; however, in a different sense writing is hardly ever overlooked or forgotten.

Writing as prose or poetry; writing as essay; writing as literature; in short, writing as the thing taught in English classes, is rarely overlooked. Compositional writing is the likely the first thing that jumps to people’s minds when they think about writing. Organized writing rules the day, in books, newspapers, magazines, and even television and movies (which use written scripts). There is no doubt that organized writing is important and world-changing; however, it is thoughts of composition, of order, that remove one from the wonder of the medium itself. As important as good composition may be, it is impossible without the presence of the medium of writing itself. A well written piece is something to be admired and praised but without the letters it is impossible. It is important that in composition we forget about the letters in favor of the words, or even forgetting the words in favor of the structure of a piece; however, though this leads to good composition it also leads to a loss of wonder and appreciation for writing qua writing. It is important that we take time to learn what makes a good composition a good composition, but it is equally important that we take time to reflect on the medium of composition itself: the art of this artificial thing that was invented a few times and in a few places; the beauty and power of the invention that changed the world; the might of this tool that we call writing. Writing is the most human of inventions and tells the most human of stories.

 

[1] See here: https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/cravings/201609/how-internet-use-is-shaping-our-brains

[2] For a more in depth history of writing, watch Thoth’s Pill by Nativlang here:  https://youtu.be/PdO3IP0Pro8.

[3] von Mises, L. (1977). Planned Chaos, p.62. Foundation for Economic Education: Irvington-on-Hudson, New York.

Advertisements

Should The Word ‘Very’ Really be Avoided?

There is a great deal of writing advice on the internet warning people against the use of the word ‘very.’ The reasons everyone should avoid using ‘very’ in their writing range from that ‘very’ has become so weakened that it has no intensifying purpose anymore to the claim that using ‘very’ is simply lazy writing. It ought to be noted that in none of this writing advice do people give a legitimate stylistic or grammatical reason to use their suggested alternatives in place of an adjective modified with ‘very.’ Claiming that ‘very’ is a weak or lazy word is not really a stylistic justification for avoiding it; in fact, there may well be stylistic reasons not to avoid using ‘very,’ as the aggressive use of large words can make one’s writing seem awkward, or like they have just discovered how to use a thesaurus. To be clear, large and complex words have a clear and important place in writing; however, they should never be used simply to avoid the word ‘very.’

Indeed, if one of the supposed reasons to avoid ‘very’ is that it has become so weakened to lose all meaning, one ought to avoid the intentional overuse of words to replace ‘very.’ In fact, the intentional use of replacement words to avoid ‘very,’ does more to damage good written style and language use than the “overuse” of ‘very.’ To quote C. S. Lewis: “Don’t use words too big for the subject. Don’t say ‘infinitely’ when you mean ‘very’; otherwise you’ll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite.” Furthermore, many of the alternatives suggested to replace the use of ‘very’ actually lead to a difference in meaning between the original adjective modified with very and the alternative. Let’s take some examples (from the infographic found here):

“very afraid: fearful;” the problem with this one is that fearful and afraid mean exactly the same thing, fearful does not imply a greater intensity of fear than afraid, therefore if one wishes to express that someone has intense fear they could not use fearful in place of very afraid without failing to convey their actual meaning. [1]

“very boring: dull;” dull does not meaning the extremely tedious or uninteresting, i.e. very boring. In fact, dull has more senses than boring and to replace the “very boring” with “dull” could VERY easily (notice that I didn’t use “effortlessly”) completely alter the meaning of a sentence. Example: “that professor is very boring” [meaning: the professor is extremely tedious] changed to “that professor is dull” [possible meanings: (a) the professor lacks excitement; (b) the professor is stupid].

Oh I love this next one:

“very dull: tedious;” that’s right folks, when you want to intensify an adjective don’t! Instead, use one of the possible definitions of the un-intensified version of the original. Dull means tedious! Therefore, it is impossible for tedious to mean very dull, since if it did dull would also already mean very dull!

“Very colorful: vibrant;” this doesn’t work, since vibrant refers to a color’s brightness, whereas colorful refers to the amount of colors or the brightness of something; so to replace very colorful with vibrant is to lose not one but two meanings as one loses both the reference to amount of colors and to the intensity, since vibrant does not mean ‘intensely colorful.”

“very perfect: flawless;” the problem with this is that instead of replacing the phrase “very perfect” with a synonym of perfect, one should just cut the word “very” from the phrase, as it is simply redundant.

There are some on the list that work well like “very stupid: idiotic,” as idiotic means very stupid. However, the biggest flaw of this list is that many of the replacement words of synonyms of the original adjective without adding any intensity. Indeed, to get the same sense out of “tedious” as out of “very dull,” one would have to say “very tedious.” I fully agree that having a larger vocabulary is a positive thing for which everyone should strive; however, the way to get there is not to dispense with the use of the word very and replace it with “better” alternatives, since that is not the sign of a larger vocabulary but a sign of a thesaurus user. Meaning is nuanced and complex, different words mean different things to different people, part of having a large vocabulary is welding it well, not shoehorning words in places they don’t really fit. Perhaps, for some “tedious,” does, in fact, mean “very dull,” but that still doesn’t change the fact that in everyday speech and writing there is a place for “very dull.” If it is the most efficient way to get one’s meaning across, and one doesn’t have some other commitments in writing (class style guides for example), use the words and phrase most fit for the writing.

[1] I am using the definitions of Oxford Dictionaries online.

One further point, despite the widespread belief among people using larger words in writing doesn’t actually make one sound more intelligent and may actually have to opposite effect if overused. Thus, one should use the words one thinks best fit the situation. See the study by Oppenheimer, D. (2006). Consequences of erudite vernacular utilization irrespective of necessity: problems with using long words needlessly, Applied Cognitive Psychology 20, 139-156. DOI: 10.1002/acp.1178.

Lexical Expander 5: Offing

Word: Offing

Definition:  (1) a distinct part of the sea that can be seen from the shore; (2) a position distant from the shore; (3) in the offing: (a) at a distance but within sight, (b) in the near future.

Example:  Mary collected her thoughts and realized that a confrontation was necessarily in the offing

Rarity:  rare, bottom 40% of words (Merriam-Webster)

Etymology:  early 17th century, off + ing

Word in Use: Light Rain In Offing For Madhya Pradesh And Chhattisgarh”

Why I like this word: The main use of this word is in the phrase: “in the offing;” which is a rather useful phrase for speaking both about physical objects within sight and about things happening the near future. Overall, it is a versatile and useful word.

The Lexical Expander 4: Afterwit

Word: Afterwit

Definition:  (1) later knowledge; (2) wisdom or knowledge that comes after an event, usually too late

Example:  A few hours after the argument had ended James hit upon the perfect piece of afterwit.

Rarity:  Extremely rare, bottom 20% of words (Merriam-Webster)

Etymology: after + wit, late 16th century.

Across languages:  French: esprit de l’escalier; German: Treppenwitz

Why I like this word: This word is both very rare and extremely useful; often in life one realizes something too late. Furthermore, it is the best translation for the German, Trappenwitz, (literal: staircase wisdom), a word sometimes toted as “untranslatable.” Perhaps, those that believed Trappenwitz  had no one word English translation will now be experiencing afterwit.

Everything’s a Metaphor

The word metaphor is generally refers to the figurative use of one word or phrase to describe another unrelated word or phrase. It is non-literal. For example, “time is money,” is a metaphor, because time is not literally money. However, as the title of this post suggests I am using the word ‘metaphor’ with an expanded, (you might say, metaphorical), meaning. Let me explain why everything’s a metaphor.

When someone says, “I like this coffee,” what do they mean? This is fairly cut and dry, no metaphor in sight; they mean just what they have said, i.e. they enjoy the coffee they are drinking, just finished, or saw the bag of, etc., which precise meaning is context dependent. That’s all very well and good, but what do they really mean? That may strike the reader as a strange question but here’s my point. The metaphoric is omnipresent in everyday use of language. When one says, “I like this coffee,” what they mean to convey is the nebulous and impossible to precisely define conception of enjoyment of “this” coffee. Ask them why they like this coffee and you may be treated to a soliloquy on its aroma, taste, mouthfeel, or some memorial-emotional connection. Yet, ask them why they like that taste, that aroma, etc. and most will be at a loss to explain. A great deal of human experience is hidden from conceptualization by both outsiders and ourselves.

Thus, everyday language, and even more precise academic language, cannot capture everything one means. At best language can hint at the outside world and the internal mental world.  I think this hinting is best described as “metaphor.” Furthermore, much of people’s everyday speech is not as direct and simple as, “I like this coffee.” A great deal of the time, interpersonal communication, especially among friends and family, involves shared secrets, inside jokes, and communicative short-cuts.  Here, there is yet another level of abstraction, thus another level of metaphor.

One criticism of this view maybe that it is a little thin on explanatory power. For example, of what is the phrase “I love you” a metaphor? Well, it is a metaphor of the experience state of the feeling of love for the loved person by the speaker. Great, says the detractor of my view, but what exactly does this actually explain? Here is the problem; it doesn’t really explain anything, because it cannot. Language is metaphorical, therefore trying to explain on metaphor leads to another metaphor and on and on. This is why even the very statement that everything’s a metaphor is a metaphor. Where does this leave us?

This position does nothing to one’s everyday life. Language is still the same; ideas still remain as they were. Might this position affect one’s world view? Perhaps, but it needn’t. Just because language is ultimately a collection of imperfect metaphors about the world, doesn’t mean that knowledge is unattainable, or that this or that thing doesn’t exist, or that language isn’t one of the best tools (if not the best) we have in life. As Haruki Murakami wrote: “A certain type of perfection can only be realized through a limitless accumulation of the imperfect.”

The Lexical Expander 3: Anteroom

Word: Anteroom

Definition: an outer room that is connect to an inner room, often used for waiting.

Example: She sat in the poorly decorated anteroom, awaiting her appointment.

Rarity:  bottom 40% of words in common usage (Merriam-Webster).

Etymology: 1762, ante (Latin: before) + room

Word in Use: “Despite the ruling, party investigators went into a detailed hypothesis as to what took place in the anteroom between Hookem and Woolfe.”(https://www.rt.com/uk/364172-woolfe-hookem-ukip-fight/)

Across languages:  Spanish: antesala; in use: “Pizzi ratifica a Sánchez, Vidal y Bravo en la antesala del partido ante Uruguay” (http://www.elmostrador.cl/noticias/pais/2016/11/14/pizzi-ratifica-a-sanchez-vidal-y-bravo-en-la-antesala-del-partido-ante-uruguay/)

German: Vorzimmer; in use: “in eine Kommodenlade im Vorzimmer und wartete ab.” (http://www.kleinezeitung.at/oesterreich/5118569/Wien_Putzfrau-soll-Pensionistin-mehr-als-100000-Euro-gestohlen-haben)

Why I like this word: I think it is a relatively useful and interesting word, the alternative “antechamber” is used slightly more often. I think both words should be used a bit more to befit their rather considerable utility, for example instead of calling it a waiting room why not be more lexically economical and call it the anteroom?

The Lexical Expander 2: Quaquaversal

Word: Quaquaversal

Definition: Dipping, sloping, pointing, etc. in every direction.

Example: His roof was quaquaversal.

Rarity:  Extremely rare.

Etymology: From classical Latin quāquā versus on all sides + al

Word in Use: “presented her Quaquaversal ready-to-wear collection for Spring Summer 2016 during Paris Fashion Week, earlier this week.” via: http://www.dezeen.com/2015/10/13/iris-van-herpen-uses-robots-to-print-and-weave-a-dress-over-game-of-thrones-actress/

Why I like this word: I like the word quaquaversal because it is a fun word to say (pronunciation: kwākwəvərsəl). Furthermore, it is a rather ridiculous word with an interesting meaning. All around it is a rather fun word (it is actually one of my favorite words in English).

The Lexical Expander 1: Centigrade

Word: Centigrade

Definition: degrees Celsius.

Example: Today it is 3 centigrade.

Rarity:  bottom 40% of words in common usage (Merriam-Webster).

Etymology: 1799, from French: centi- (one hundred) + grade (degree of measurement; via Latin gradus “step, pace, gait”). [http://www.etymonline.com/]

Word in Use: “Designed to function in temperatures ranging from minus 32 to 49 centigrade, the Centauro II engine provides 24 horsepower per ton compared to 19 for the old Centauro. ” (http://www.defensenews.com/articles/italys-new-centauro-ii-tank-shown-off-in-rome)

Across languages: Spanish: centigrados; in use: “Termometro descendio hasta 6 grados centigrados en SLP.” (http://pulsoslp.com.mx/2016/10/20/termometro-descendio-hasta-6-grados-centigrados-en-slp/ )

Why I like this word: I like the word centigrade because it has a certain economy to it; it allows one to skip saying “degrees Celsius,” while still being correct (saying simple Celsius is incorrect, it must be degrees Celsius). It also has a rather nice Latinate quality to it. In Spanish one loses the economy, having to say grados centigrados; however, that too has a rather pleasant continuity to it.

Introducing The Lexical Expander

The Lexical Expander will be a series of short, special articles focused on rare, uncommon, and underused words. The format will be as follows:

Word:

Definition:

Example: 

Rarity:  

Etymology: (word history)

Word in Use: (reference to a recent use of the word)

Across languages: (the word in one other language, if applicable)

Why I like this word:

I hope you’ll enjoy this series.