Book Review: The Language Myth

14 May 2015

Vyvyan Evans’s The Language Myth is something of a polemic. In the book Evans, a professor of linguistics at Bangor University in the UK, takes on the dominant paradigm of twentieth century linguistics, the universal grammar of Noam Chomsky, especially as popularized by Steven Pinker in books like The Language Instinct. Evans’s book is, to say the least, controversial, and I am not fully qualified to judge its merits. (But this being the internet, I’m going to anyway.)

The book is clearly written, engaging, and accessible to those without formal training in linguistics. So those readers of this website without such training should have no problem understanding Evans’s arguments. But the thing that kept nagging me as I read it was that the view presented is very one sided. I am not certain that Evans has accurately described universal grammar and the arguments behind it. It may be that at times Evans is tilting at something of a straw man or taking a since-retracted or out-of-context statement as definitive of the Chomskyan position. (This is just the impression I got from reading it; it may well be that Evans is spot on.)

Much of Evans’s argument hinges on the meaning of instinct and innate and the difficult task of separating that which is present at birth from that which is learned in infancy and earliest childhood. Unlike Chomsky, Evans argues that humans have a variety of cognitive faculties out of which language emerges. While language relies on specific functions of the brain, it is a social construct that is learned, and not a biological module in the brain that is unique to humans. He bases his conclusions on several sub-fields of linguistics. One is animal studies, the fact that all of the cognitive functions that enable language are found in various animal species—although not to the degree and refinement found in humans, and no known animal species has anything close to the sophistication of human language. Another is the study of how children acquire language—and it is this portion of Evans’s book that I find most compelling in refuting Chomskyan universal grammar. (Notably, it is the least polemical of the sections too.) Evans does a superb job of laying out what we know about language acquisition and how it flies in the face of Chomsky’s theory.

Evans also delves into neo-Whorfian theory and linguistic relativism. It is here that I dispute his argument somewhat, or rather a particular failure in his argument, and do so on firmer ground as I have more familiarity with this sub-field of linguistics. Evans does an excellent job of laying out the experimental evidence for neo-Whorfian relativism, such things as studies in color recognition and how it is effected by one’s native language. His description of the experiments is excellent, except in one respect. He omits any discussion of effect size. Many of the neo-Whorfian relativistic effects that have been shown to exist, while real and statistically significant, are very, very small. For example, a person with a name for a particular shade can recognize it faster than one without, but only about 1/100th of a second faster on average. It’s a measurable effect and relevant to our understanding of the basics of cognition, but it probably has no practical effect on how we live our lives. (Those in the medical field make the distinction between statistically significant and clinically significant, and perhaps linguists should take a tip from them.) To be fair, Evans does not state that there is much of a practical effect, but given how the Whorfian hypothesis has been misconstrued in the popular imagination and the mainstream press, leaving out discussion of effect size is a significant omission.

For those interested in the intersection of language and cognition, Evan’s The Language Myth is something of a must-read. But it should be read with the understanding that it presents just one view in a complex argument.

Evans, Vyvyan. The Language Myth: Why Language is Not an Instinct. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014.

Review: Curzan's The Secret Life of Words

23 April 2015

I’ve been a bit leery of The Great Courses , a line of products that offers downloadable lectures by university professors. The idea combines two things that I have problems with: the whole massive open online course (MOOC) idea and paying for internet content.

MOOCs, or at least the way they’ve been touted as the savior of higher education, are problematic for a lot of reasons, but none of them apply to The Great Courses. One thing that MOOCs are good for is offering course content to those who simply want to learn—an open university. As to the second, I listen to a lot of audio podcasts—when I’m walking the dog or riding the subway into work. And there’s a lot of great audio content that is free (that is offered at no charge by the creator; I’m not talking about pirated stuff), so paying for content seems wasteful. And to one living on a grad student’s stipend, free is important. But it’s not just a personal problem; The Great Courses offerings are expensive, often running $200 or more for a course. 

But when another linguistic podcast that I listen to—Slate’s Lexicon Valley—offered a deep discount on one particular course, I took the plunge, forked over the fifty bucks, and downloaded the course. The course is The Secret Life of Words, by Anne Curzan, a professor of English at the University of Michigan.  I know Curzan by reputation and the course content was right up my alley, so I figured that it couldn’t been too disappointing.

I was not wrong. Curzan’s scholarship is excellent, as I expected. (Actually, I didn’t find a single statement in all her lectures that I would quibble over; that’s a rare feat, as there is almost always some minor fact or opinion that I can disagree with.) Her delivery is also engaging, clearly presenting and explicating complex linguistic concepts in plain language. The focus of the course is the English lexicon and where words come from, although Curzan does delve into other aspects of linguistics as the need arises to explain lexical history. The lectures run the gamut from talking about Old English to modern sports slang. Lecture titles include:

  • Opening the Early English Word-Hoard

  • Chutzpah to Pajamas—Word Borrowings

  • The Tough Stuff of English Spelling

  • I’m Good ... Or Am I Well?

  • Wicked Cool—The Irreverence of Slang

  • Firefighters and Freshpersons

  • #$@%!—Forbidden Words

The course consists of thirty-six half-hour lectures. It’s available in both video and audio-only formats. I purchased the audio-only version, so I can’t say whether or not the video version is worth the extra money, but the course is completely comprehensible in audio-only, and at no point did I feel that I was missing content.

Now I’m still taken aback by the course’s list price of US$199.95 for the audio download ($374.95 for the DVD version). That’s a lot of money. But The Great Courses frequently offers sales and discounts through various outlets, so if you bide your time and watch for special offers, you can get the course for a lot less.

And right now there is a sale on all the language and literature courses, including this one. Until 14 May 2015 you can get audio download of The Secret Life of Words for $49.95.

If you’re reading this website, chances are you’re interested in the English lexicon and its history. That means this course is probably of interest, and I wholeheartedly recommend it.

Fæhða Gemyndig: Hostile Acts vs. Enmity

3 April 2015

This article of mine was published in the journal Neophilologus in March 2015 (online; print publication date is TBA). It’s behind a paywall, but the copyright conditions allow me to make an earlier draft available, which can be downloaded here.

The topic is pretty esoteric and will probably not be of interest to most of you, but if you’re so inclined to read it, knock yourselves out.

Abstract:

This article systematically examines all sixty-seven instances of the word fǣhþ in the Old English corpus and proposes that instead of the traditional definition of “feud, hostility, enmity,” the word more usually means (1) a specific hostile act or offense, especially homicide, (2) the punishment inflicted for such an offense, or (3) general violence or mayhem. It also examines the lexicographic history of the word and why the traditional definition has lingered despite being problematic. The analysis begins with the word’s use in Anglo-Saxon law codes, where it has a more concrete and precise definition than in poetry and because in poetic works fǣhþ is often used with verbs commonly found in legal usage, such as stǣlan (to accuse, charge with a crime). From the legal codes the analysis moves on to other prose and poetic works, where the word is often used more figuratively, encompassing concepts such as sin—offenses against God—and other unsavory acts. This re-examination of fǣhþ’s meaning usefully checks the impulse to translate it as “feud” in contexts that do not support the idea of perpetual or ongoing hostility, while still allowing translators to deliberately choose to use “feud” or “enmity” where the context justifies it. Recognition that fǣhþ usually means “hostile act” also opens new interpretations of its poetic uses, such as how a connotation of crime affects the view of characters who commit it, the emphasis on injury it introduces, and the legal associations the word brings into the poems.