Zimmer on Fraught

22 May 2010

Ben Zimmer’s NYT column this week is on fraught. This is one usage that sends me up a wall. I absolutely hate it when people use the word as an adjective meaning “distressed.” The descriptivist in me knows that the usage isn’t wrong—I’ve seen it often enough to realize that it is fully assimilated into the language. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I am also surprised at the rapidity with which fraught-sans-with has caught on. It’s really been only the last decade that use of fraught in this way has skyrocketed. Which is probably why my reaction is so visceral; it’s still too new for me.

Fanboy

18 May 2010

Henry McCracken over at technologizer.com has an interesting article on the origin of the word fanboy.

McCracken puts too much emphasis on the 1973 magazine Fanboy, titled by creator Jay Lynch, as the supposed origin of the term, and peremptorily dismisses the 1919 cite in the OED as unrelated—the 1919 sense is clearly not quite the same as the current, tech-slang sense, but the words are clearly related. The 1973 interdating is an important find, but Lynch almost certainly did not coin the word. But even with these faults, it’s an interesting, fact-filled take on the word.

And if you read the article, be sure to read the very astute reader comment by “Jack.”

(Hat tip: Bill Mullins on ADS-L)

Loss of Gender in English

13 May 2010

Unlike most other Indo-European languages, English, for the most part, doesn’t have grammatical genders (i.e., inflecting nouns, pronouns, and adjectives as either masculine, feminine, or neuter). French, for example, has two genders (m. and f.); German has three. But the only English words that are inflected for gender are the third-person, singular pronouns (hesheit), and the gender of these, with a few exceptions, corresponds to biological gender of the referent. (The primary exceptions are personification of inanimate objects, such as referring to ships or one’s country as she, and the use of it to refer to animals where the sex is not known or immaterial.) But English was not always like this.

Old English had grammatical genders (m., f., and n.), like the modern continental languages. And like its modern counterparts, Old English sometimes exhibited a disparity between grammatical and biological gender. Hence þæt wif, “the woman” (n.), se stan, “the stone” (m.), or seo giefu, “the gift” (f.). In compound nouns, the second element provided the grammatical gender, hence þæt wif (n.) + se mann (m.) yielded the masculine se wifmann, “the woman. Other than this, there was little logic in the assignment of grammatical gender in Old English, and you have to learn a noun’s gender through rote memorization.

But starting in the tenth century, we begin to see the loss of grammatical gender in Old English. This loss begins in the north of England and over the next few centuries spreads south, until grammatical gender is completely gone from the language by the middle of the fourteenth century. For example, the Lindisfarne Gospels, a late-seventh/early-eighth century Latin illuminated manuscript (London, British Library, Cotton MS Nero D.IV) that had an interlinear Old English gloss inserted in the tenth century, assigns a masculine gender to the usually feminine endung, “ending, conclusion.” The same gloss also assigns both masculine and neuter genders to stan, “stone,” at different points.

The loss of grammatical gender is pretty much complete in Northumbria by the beginning of the eleventh century. By the middle of that century the loss becomes apparent in texts from the Midlands and is largely complete there by the beginning of the thirteenth century, although some Midlands dialects retain vestiges of grammatical gender until the end of the thirteenth century. The south of England loses grammatical gender over the course of the late-eleventh through thirteenth centuries, and Kent is the last holdout, maintaining grammatical gender into the middle of the fourteenth century.

As one might expect, during this period of transition the situation with grammatical gender becomes messy, but there are some general trends. Feminine and neuter animate nouns tend to become masculine, and masculine and feminine inanimate nouns tend to become neuter in early Middle English. With the Norman Conquest, some English words begin to adopt the gender of their French counterparts. Hence the masculine Old English mona, “moon” becomes feminine under the influence of the feminine French lune. Eventually, of course, all the genders would be dropped.

The factors behind the disappearance of the English gender system aren’t known. Although the process was influenced by French, the disappearance was underway prior to the Norman Conquest, so that was not a root cause. Instead, the loss of grammatical gender is part of the general disintegration of the Old English inflectional system. In modern English, the accusative and dative cases have collapsed into a single objective case that only applies to pronouns. Nouns are only inflected for the plural and genitive. And adjectives aren’t declined at all.


Huddleston, Rodney, and Geoffrey Pullum. The Cambridge Grammar of the English Language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002. 484-99.

Mitchell, Bruce, and Fred C. Robinson. A Guide to Old English. Fifth edition (with corrections and revisions). Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 1994. 17.

Mustanoja, Tauno F. A Middle English Syntax. Helsinki: Société Néophilologique, 1960. 43-54.

Aromatherapy and the Benefits of Jargon

10 May 2010

Jargon often gets a bad rap. It can be obfuscatory and difficult for laypeople to understand. But it can also be marvelously precise and aid in clarity of thinking.

Steven Novella over at NeuroLogica Blog has a post on the topic, using aromatherapy as an example of how word choice can impact our uncritical opinions about a topic.

Loyal Wordorigins readers may note that I have sort of argued the opposite in the past, that language does not impact how we think, but this example is dead on. We use words to uncritically classify and stereotype concepts. Hence, aromatherapy sounds like it should have some type of medical efficacy. And death tax sounds bad, but estate tax is more reasonable—after all, the heir has done nothing to deserve the money and it does not affect all all equally, as death does, but only those rich enough to have “estates.” But this is just uncritical stereotyping. We can break free of the constraints of language and think critically about topics for which we don’t have words; it’s just more difficult.