Category Archives: Language

From Amharic to Zulu, bogus to zombie: the languages and words of Africa

africanlanguages

I’ve just returned from Morocco, where I was struck by the country’s enthralling cultural diversity, which is reflected in and epitomized by its linguistic variety (there are three standard languages spoken there: French, English and Moroccan Arabic — and that’s just the locals talking, we’re not including the tourists…). The continent of Africa is home to more than 2,100 languages — some estimate more than 3,000, many of which are spoken around the world. About a hundred African languages are used for mass inter-ethnic communication; Arabic, Amharic, Berber, Hausa, Igbo, Oromo, Somali, Swahili and Yoruba are spoken by tens of millions of people. Nigeria alone has 500 languages. Most languages spoken in Africa belong to one of three large language families: Afroasiatic, Nilo-Saharan, and Niger-Congo.

The Niger–Congo languages constitute Africa’s largest language family in terms of geographical area, number of speakers, and number of distinct languages. The most widely spoken Niger–Congo languages by number of native speakers are Yoruba, Igbo, Fula, Shona and Zulu. The most widely spoken by total number of speakers is Swahili. Although Swahili is the mother tongue to only about five million people, it is used as a lingua franca (a working, bridging or unifying language) in much of the southern half of East Africa; it serves as the official language of four nations — Tanzania, Kenya, Uganda and the Democratic Republic of the Congo  — and is one of the official languages of the African Union. The total number of Swahili speakers exceeds 140 million.

More than 300 million people speak an Afroasiatic (also known as Hamito-Semitic) language; these are spoken predominantly in the Middle East, North Africa, the Horn of Africa, and parts of the Sahel.  The most widely spoken Afroasiatic language is Arabic.

Nilo-Saharan languages are spoken by about 50 million people, mainly in the upper parts of the Chari and Nile rivers, and extending through 17 nations in the northern half of Africa.

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Many words that we use on a daily basis are imports from the French language. Premiere, ballet, genre, unique, liaison, resume, and fiance are just a few examples. Although not nearly as numerous, there are several words in standard English that originated in Africa — including a few that are quite surprising. Did you know, for example, that bogus originally comes from the Hausa (West African) word boko-boko, meaning fake or fraudulent? Jumbo, meaning unusually large, comes originally (and via P.T. Barnum) from the Swahili jumbe or jambo, meaning elephant. And I had always assumed that tango was Spanish or Latin in origin, but it’s from an African word in the Niger-Congo family of languages meaning “to dance”.

Here are some other words that came from this most exotic and beautiful of continents:

banana: West African (possibly a Wolof word)

bozo: West African for “stupid”

dig (in the sense of to appreciate or understand): from the Wolof dega, used at the beginning of a sentence to mean either “look here” or “understand”

guys (informal word for people): David Dalby, founding director of the Linguasphere Observatory (a transnational linguistic research network), contends that there’s a direct connection between guys and the Wolof word gay, meaning person or fellow and always used in the plural form

jukebox: from juke, joog meaning “wicked, disorderly” in Gullah, probably from Wolof and Bambara dzug meaning “unsavory”

Okay: there are numerous theories about where this word — now used and understood all over the world — originated, but it’s widely believed that it might be from the Wolof expression “waw kay”, meaning “all correct”

tango: originally the name of an African-American drum dance, probably from a Niger-Congo language, eg. the Ibibio tamgu meaning “to dance”

tote: a popular theory is that this originated in West African languages: the Kikongo tota meaning “to pick up,” or the Kimbundu tuta meaning “carry, load,” related to Swahili tuta “pile up, carry”. (However, the OED disputes this etymology.)

safari: from the Swahili word meaning “to travel”

zombie: originally a Creole word “zobi”, of Bantu origin, from the Kikongo word zumbi, meaning “fetish”, and the Kimbundu word nzambi, meaning “god”, zombie was originally the name of a snake god. Zombie was first used in the 19th century to mean voodoo dead spirits. More recently it has taken on a new meaning of “automaton” or someone who looks like a robot or lifeless being.

 

 

 

Thank you. You might be welcome …

please&thankyou

Do we say thanks too much? “Thank you” (or the appropriate equivalent — eg. thanks, tah, cheers, merci, etc.) tends to be said more frequently in some cultures — especially in English-speaking countries — than in others; many would argue that utterances of thanks and gratitude are dished out so habitually and gratuitously in England and the U.S. that the sincerity of the sentiment is often diminished.

The Chinese rarely say thank you to their family and close friends. And because they value humility, saying “thank you” after being paid a compliment can be perceived as arrogant. In Thailand, gratitude is generally conveyed using the “wai”, a gesture of hands clasped together as in prayer, which varies according to the social status of the person being thanked, and sometimes simply a smile will suffice; a verbal “thank you” is reserved for important actions that warrant sincere and special gratitude. The Nepalese have no words that translate directly to thank you or please; they adjust or conjugate their pronouns and verbs (much like the way the French use vous or tu) to reflect the level of respect they wish to convey, but don’t have dedicated “polite” words. (Similarly, most Scandinavian countries — certainly Danish, Finnish and Icelandic — don’t have an actual word for please.)

As for acknowledging thanks, the nature of the verbal response also varies from culture to culture and language to language, and seems to fall into three general categories. The first amounts to dismissing the act that inspired the thanks as unimportant or non-existent. The French say de rien, the Portuguese de nada, in Catalan, it’s de res — all translating roughly to “it’s nothing”. Then there’s almost the opposite: an expression of pleasure on the part of the person being thanked. The Dutch phrase graag gedaan translates literally as “gladly done”; when the Icelandic say gerdu svo vel, they mean “my pleasure”. And finally there’s a fairly common tradition of echoing back the word for please when you’re acknowledging an expression of gratitude. In Hebrew, Russian and a number of Eastern European languages, the way you say “you’re welcome” is by using the word for please. In Russia, it’s пожалуйста” (“pah-zhal-stah”); the Polish dual-purpose word is prosze; in Hebrew, it’s bevakasha.

In British and American English, we tend to use variations on the first two types of expression. An Englishman, if he does verbalize a response, is more likely to offer “of course”, “don’t mention it”, “it was nothing”, “by all means”, “no problem”, “no worries” (very common in Australian English), “that’s OK”, “that’s all right”, “my pleasure”, or “not at all”. The traditional “you’re welcome” is more of an American phenomenon. In fact, since the British have a habit of thanking everyone for the smallest and most trivial actions (they give thanks almost as much as they apologize), they’re less inclined to acknowledge all the gratitude being doled out — and therefore a nod or a smile, with deliberate eye-contact (which in itself is enough to make most English folk blush), will usually do the trick. The Americans are more conscientious (they will usually offer a verbal reply), less self-conscious and more effusive with their “you’re welcomes”, and common alternatives are “sure”, “sure thing”, or, even more informally, “you bet” — or “you betcha!”. That’s something you won’t hear an Englishman say.

Last year, Lynneguist on her blog Separated by a Common Language wrote a detailed and nuanced post comparing American and English usage of please, thank you and other general terms and expressions of politeness (a video of her TEDx talk on the subject at Sussex University accompanies the piece). It’s well worth a read to understand some of the more subtle differences in manners — both linguistic and social — between the Yanks and the Brits.

Here are a few international versions of “you’re welcome”, with their literal translations where I’ve managed to track them down:

Brazilian/Portuguese: de nada, “of nothing”

Catalan: de res,  “it’s nothing”

Cantonese: M̀h’sái haak-hei, “not necessary”

Danish: selv tak, “thanks yourself”

Dutch: graag gedaan, “gladly done”

Finnish: ole hyvä

French: de rien, “it’s nothing”

German: Bitte schoen, “please pretty”

Hebrew: bevakasha, “please”

Hungarian: nincs mit, “nothing”

Icelandic: gerdu svo vel, “my pleasure” or “there you go”

Italian: prego, “I beg”

Japanese: dou itashimashite

Norwegian: bare hyggelig, “my pleasure”

Polish: prosze, “please”

Russian: pohzhalstah, “please”

Slovenian: prosim, “please”

Spanish: de nada, “it’s nothing”, or mi gusto, “my pleasure”

Swedish: varsagod, “be so good”

Tagalog: walang anuman, “no problems”

 

 

 

Italian: Prego

 

You say highway, I say freeway; you say crawfish, I say crayfish: Highway, freeway, crawfish, crayfish, let’s map the whole thing out …

howdyy'all

Do you drive on a highway or a freeway? Do you wear sneakers or tennis shoes? What do you call a sweet fizzy beverage? Can you distinguish – purely by ear – the words merry, Mary, and marry? And if your spouse announces that she’s got a job in “the city”, where do you think you’re going to end up living? Your answers will be determined mainly by where you live (in America, by the way), or where you grew up, and now you can see these regional dialect differences — in pronunciation and word usage — represented clearly and colorfully on maps of the U.S. thanks to Joshua Katz, a PhD student in statistics at North Carolina State University, and to Dr. Bert Vaux of Cambridge University.

Let’s go back to the beginning of this century, when Dr. Vaux, then of Harvard University, spent five years collecting data on regional dialects throughout the U.S. using a survey he and his colleagues devised to distinguish differences in usage and pronunciation. Questions ranged from how you would pronounce “aunt”, “caught” and “caramel” to what you would call a long sandwich containing cold cuts. Do you say “y’all” or just “you”? “Soda” or “pop”? Vaux then mapped the data, using single color-coded points like pins on a map to show the geographical distribution of responses to the 122 questions he asked of more than 5300 participants.

Enter Joshua Katz, who decided for his end-of-the-year project to take Vaux’s data and create a series of interactive maps that gave a more complete and complex picture of these national dialect differences. Using a statistical algorithm that weighted the responses around a particular location, Katz was able to create mapped visualizations of Vaux’s survey; there’s even a drop-down menu that will show you the cities most and least similar in dialect to any point on the map you choose. Read Business Insiders report on Katz’s project. And the next time you’re offered a “car-ml” with only two syllables, you’ll know roughly what part of the country they come from …

 

It’s Talk Like Shakespeare Day

shakespearebirthday

It’s William Shakespeare’s 449th birthday. Happy Birthday Will! Honoring this special occasion, Chicago Mayor Rahm Emmanuel has officially proclaimed April 23, 2013 Talk Like Shakespeare Day: “Everyone is encouraged to express themselves through the incorporation of Shakespearean language and dialect.”

Visit the Talk Like Shakespeare Day web site to find out how to emulate the Bard. Below is a nice little starter pack from the site, and then a Shakespeare Insult Kit, if you feel like being a dankish dog-hearted gudgeon for the occasion. But let’s not forget that we talk a little bit like Shakespeare every day. As Mental Floss reminded us earlier this year, many of the Bard’s own verbal inventions made their way into our language and remain there today, as do words that he popularized through his dramas. So when we say addiction, belongings, or even eyeballs, we have Mr. Shakespeare to thank for installing them in our vocabulary. As Romeo & Juliet in Urban Slang explains: “It has been said that Shakespeare created 1 out of 10 of the words he included in his plays. Some of the words already existed, but Shakespeare employs them creatively by using them in a different part of speech. The words that Shakespeare used that were already slang became greatly popularized after being included in his plays.

How to Talk Like Shakespeare

  1. Instead of you, say thou or thee (and instead of y’all, say ye).
  2. Rhymed couplets are all the rage.
  3. Men are Sirrah, ladies are Mistress, and your friends are all called Cousin.
  4. Instead of cursing, try calling your tormenters jackanapes or canker-blossoms or poisonous bunch-back’d toads.
  5. Don’t waste time saying “it,” just use the letter “t” (’tis, t’will, I’ll do’t).
  6. Verse for lovers, prose for ruffians, songs for clowns.
  7. When in doubt, add the letters “eth” to the end of verbs (he runneth, he trippeth, he falleth).
  8. To add weight to your opinions, try starting them with methinks, mayhaps, in sooth or wherefore.
  9. When wooing ladies: try comparing her to a summer’s day. If that fails, say “Get thee to a nunnery!”
  10. When wooing lads: try dressing up like a man. If that fails, throw him in the Tower, banish his friends and claim the throne.

How to Swear Like the Bard

The Shakespeare Insult Kit: Combine one word from each of the three columns below, prefaced with “Thou”  (example: thou spleeny knotty-pated malt-worm):

ShakespeareInsults

The Huffington Post published the 7 Best Shakespeare insults, of which this line from Lefeu in All’s Well That Ends Well is a perfect example:  “Methinks thou art a general offence, and every man should beat thee. I think thou wast created for men to breathe themselves upon you.”

 

 

 

 

 

National awareness days & weeks: from speech to Scrabble

BetterAmericanSpeechWeek

Happy National Scrabble Day! (It was on this day in 1899 that Alfred Mosher Butts, the game’s inventor, was born.) It’s a day for all glossophiles to celebrate, literally with fun and games. And this month is also one for literary lovers: April is National Poetry Month here in the United States (and in Canada). Started by the Academy of American Poets in 1996, the annual April initiative celebrates poetry and its vital place in American culture, with schools, publishers, libraries, booksellers, and poets banding together to organize readings, festivals, book displays, workshops, and other poetic events.

But national awareness days, weeks and months devoted to literary and literacy causes haven’t always been as cheery and celebratory in nature.

Nearly a century ago, in 1918, the Chicago Woman’s Club initiated “Better American Speech Week”, taking its revolutionary mission to “speak the language of your flag” and “watch your speech” into schools across the nation. The movement required the schoolchildren to take a  “Pledge for Children”, promising “not [to] dishonor my country’s speech by leaving off the last syllables of words” and “to make my country’s language beautiful for the many boys and girls of foreign nations who come here to live” (as well as a distinctly racist promise that I don’t think is appropriate to publish here).

Previewing the club’s activities in 1921,  the Literary Digest wrote:

“‘Invest in good speech — it pays daily dividends’ is typical of the slogans that will be used during Better Speech Week of November 6 to arouse the nation to the evils of slovenly speech — careless enunciation, ungrammatical constructions, mispronunciations, the use of slang and poor choice of words. … Mr. H. Addington Bruce, the well-known author, observes that ‘there are men to-day in inferior positions who long ago would have commanded good salaries if they had only taken the trouble to overcome remediable speech defects. Strange how careful people are about dress— how sure that dignity and good taste in dress help to make one’s success in getting on in the world—and at the same time how careless these same people are about speech, which is the dress of the mind.’ ”
In an article published in Primary Education in November 1919, a spokesperson for the club stated: “We are looking forward to a time when all of us shall feel the same pride in fine speech that we have in fine clothes. Very few of us object to an improvement in our wearing apparel; we don’t object to having a finer touring car than our neighbor. Why are we so concerned lest our speech should be a little better than his? Why do we like to pretend that we are so poor in speech? Why are we satisfied with the inferior brand?”

Thankfully we’ve come a long way since the Speech Week of the strident Chicago lady grammarians — although many will and do argue that today’s grammar, spelling or punctuation days are anachronistic, prescriptive, and unforgiving, powered by people and movements that are out of touch with the evolving nature of our dynamic language. Fortunately, awareness days and months tend to be more celebratory than dogmatic these days, and provide useful opportunities for schools and communities to devote time and focus to the fun and art and importance of literacy rather than to its policing.

Here’s a list of the national and international days, weeks and months (that I’m aware of) devoted to literacy and language, poetry and punctuation. Please do let me know of any others that you know of.

January 23:  National Handwriting Day (US)

Jan 26 – Feb 2: National Storytelling Week (UK)

Jan 27: Family Literacy Day (Canada)

Feb 21: International Mother Language Day (world)

March 4: National Grammar Day (US)

March 5: World Spelling Day (world)

March 7: World Book Day (world)

April: National Poetry Month (US & Canada)

April 13: National Scrabble Day (US)

April 18: Poem in Your Pocket Day (US)

April 23: World Book Night (world)

May: National Share-a-story Month (UK)

May 3: World Press Freedom Day (world)

May (varies; week following Memorial Day weekend): Scripps National Spelling Bee (US/world)

June 22: National Flash Fiction Day (UK)

July 8: World Writer’s Day (world)

Sep 8: International Literacy Day (world)

Sep 13: Roald Dahl Day (world)

Sep 24: National Punctuation Day (US)

Sep 26: European Day of Languages (Europe)

October: International School Library Month (world)

Oct 4: National Poetry Day (UK)

Oct 14 – 20: Dyslexia Awareness Week  (UK)

Oct 21: Everybody Writes Day (UK)

November: National Blog Posting Month (world)

November: National Novel Writing Month (UK)

Nov 21: World Hello Day (world)

December: Read a New Book Month (US)

Dec 10: Plain English Day (world)

*  *  *  *  *

Special thanks to National Awareness Days.com for much of this information.

The dying art of shorthand

shorthand

In one of my first jobs after college, as secretary to the then managing director of Novello & Co, George Rizza (a distinguished bewhiskered gentleman), I was often called on to take dictation. With my legs crossed and tucked politely under my chair, a note-pad on my knee and sharpened pencil in hand, I’d focus my eyes on the blank lines before me, poised to capture the words about to spill from my boss’s mouth. After a few moments of pregnant silence, like the pause before the shot of a starting pistol, George Rizza would nod with a smile in my direction, then begin to talk fluidly and eloquently as though the intended recipient of his letter were in the room with him — more often than not a composer whose new work was about to be unveiled. I would scribble furiously, my heart pounding in my chest as I took each syllable that reached my ear and allowed it to pass like a code through the audio, mental and nervous flowcharts of my brain and down into my hand, instantly parsing the information and depositing it on the page as a symbol representing the phonetic ‘chunk’ that had reverberated on my eardrum just a split-second earlier. Over the course of a ten-minute dictation, Rizza’s well-considered words transformed themselves through my seated form from a barrage of sounds and syllables into a picture of pencil-lead marks, most of which were decipherable only by me.

shorthand

As the longed-for final four phonemes arrived at my ear — yaw – sin – seer – lee, my head and hand flushing with relief — I would rush from my chair with as much grace as I could muster in my haste. Back at my desk just a few steps and seconds away, I would begin the process — sometimes exhilarating, sometimes exasperating — of transcribing my scribble back into the meaningful and elegant prose that had issued from Mr. Rizza’s mind.

I had emerged a few years earlier with flying fingers from a three-month course at the Anne Godden Secretarial School in London, clutching a diploma declaring my typing and shorthand speeds: 100 and 150 words per minute respectively. Young Englishwomen seeking secretarial positions in the early to mid-1980s were expected to have respectable shorthand and typing speeds, given the traditionally underwhelming hunt-and-peck typing skills of their (usually male) prospective bosses. As was the trend in England at that time, I was trained in the Pitman method of stenography. (Stenography, meaning to write in shorthand form, comes from the Greek word stenos meaning “narrow” and graphē or graphie meaning “writing”.) Developed by Sir Isaac Pitman in the early 19th century, his is a phonetic system in which sounds rather than letters are represented — consonants by straight and semi-circular strokes in different hefts and orientations, and vowels (when needed) by dots, dashes and other marks. By the end of the 20th century, Pitman’s was the most widely used method around the world — it has been adapted for no less than 15 languages. Although still ubiquitous, especially in the UK, it has been superseded in the U.S. by the Gregg method, which is also phonetic but with more simplified strokes. Nowadays, a third system called Teeline has become the shorthand of choice for teachers of stenography in the UK; unlike Pitman and Gregg, it is a spelling- rather than phonetic-based method, and it is recommended in Great Britain by the National Council for the Training of Journalists.

Outside the office, shorthand was until very recently an inherent part of the jobs of court reporters or stenographers, journalists, and medical practitioners (although in the latter case, shorthand is more for the purpose of concise, compact recording than for swift transcription). However, with the advent of the stenotype machine in the late 19th century and more recently with the use of high-quality digital audio recordings, the court stenographer has effectively become extinct. (The contract of the last stenographer at the Old Bailey in London was allowed to expire in March 2012.) Add to that the ubiquity of portable personal computers, the universal ability and willingness to type fast, and the abbreviated new lingo of texting and IMing, and it only stands to reason that penned stenography has become something of a dying art. Many journalists still regard it as an inherent part of their trade, and whether it’s by means of Pitman, Teeline, Gregg, or an improvised personal language of one’s own devising, the skill of shorthand will probably endure in some form for as long as there’s a discrepancy between the respective speeds of speech and handwriting.

 


The ubiquity of buzzwords and business speak

BSbingo

Update, Oct 2018: You can now check your own writing for jargon, using the “Jargon Grader” app. Sic. It really does exist. …

We’re all playing Bullshit Bingo most of the time — in our heads, if not in the board room. When loud cell-phone guy on the morning commute is maximizing symbiotic deliverables, or your colleague’s powerpoint presentation is all about e-enabling mission-critical synergies, the urge to punch a fist in the air and shout “BS Bingo” can be overwhelming. But we all hear and read it and even sometimes speak or write it on a regular basis. Corporate and marketing jargon is here to stay in our daily vocabularies — at least when it comes to the media and the workplace, where formal relationships are negotiated, proposals are pitched, deals are done, speeches are delivered, products and services are advertised, and opinions or beliefs are expressed — often publicly, persuasively, delicately. But why don’t we go home and innovate cross-platform systems or expedite transparent convergences when we snuggle with our sweeties on the sofa?  This relentlessly unattractive terminology seems to be born of and lend itself well to several different possible motives, which often can’t be easily discerned; they include sheer pretentiousness, vain attempts at linguistic or intellectual prowess, deliberate and strategic ambiguity, projections of authority or objectiveness, or simply being fashionable and speaking the lingo of the corporate West. Continue reading

How many languages can a polyglot speak?

polyglotplanet

It’s not at all unusual to be bilingual. Most of us monoglots know at least one person who knows, speaks and even thinks in more than one language; dyoglots and triaglots (those who speak two and three languages respectively) are common enough to have their own names, and those who speak four languages or more are generally known as polyglots. There are actually adjectives to describe those who speak a certain number of languages all the way up to ten;  each has a Latin number prefix:

Speaking 1 language:  Monolingual
Speaking 2 languages:  Bilingual
3 languages: Trilingual
4:  Quadrilingual
5:  Pentalingual
6:  Hexalingual
7:  Septalingual
8:  Octolingual
9:  Nonalingual
10:  Decalingual

But the descriptors seem to end there. Does this mean that humans are incapable of being fluent in more than ten languages? Or simply that such fortunate multi-linguals are too few and far between to deserve their own adjectives? Is it possible to know more languages than we can count on our fingers? Is there a limit to how many languages we can master?

mental_floss explores these questions in an article published today …

 

How Many Languages is it Possible to Know?

by Arika Okrent
Image credit: ThinkStock

There are millions of people, even in the mostly monolingual US, who speak more than one language at home. Competence in three languages is not unusual, and we’ve all heard stories of grandmas and grandpas who had to master four or five languages on their way from the old country to the new. In India it is common for people to go about their business every day using five or six different languages. But what about 10, 20, 30, 100 languages? What’s the upper limit on the number of languages a person can know?

Find out and read more at mental_floss: http://mentalfloss.com/article/49138/how-many-languages-it-possible-know#sthash.hKE7q7q8.dpuf

The language of love

iheartyou

It’s Valentine’s Day. Here’s how to say those three little words in 44 different languages:

Afrikaans: Ek is lief vir jou

Bulgarian: Obicham te

Bangla: Ami tumake Bhalobashi

Cantonese: Ngo oi nei

Catalan: T’estimo

Croatian: Volim te

Czech: Miluji te

Danish: Jeg elsker dig

Dutch: Ik hou van je

English: I love you

Esperanto: Mi amas vin

Estonian: Ma armastan sind

Ethiopian (Amharic): Ewedishale hu

Farsi: Dooset daram

Filipino: Mahal kita

Finnish: Rakastan sinua

French: Je t’aime

German: Ich liebe dich

Greek: S’agapao

Haitian creole: Mwen renmen ou

Hawaiian: Aloha Au Ia’oe

Hebrew: Ani ohev otach (man to woman); Ani ohevet ot’cha (woman to man)

Hindi: Mai tumse pyar kartaa hoo (man to woman); Mai tumse pyar karti hoo (woman to man)

Hungarian: Szeretlek

Icelandic: Ég elska þig

Indonesian: Aku mencintaimu

Irish: Tá grá agam duit

Italian: Ti amo

Japanese: Ai shi teru

Korean: Saranghae

Latin: Te amo

Mandarin: Wo ai ni

Norwegian: Jeg elsker deg

Polish: Ja cie kocham

Portuguese: Eu te amo

Romanian: Te iubesc

Russian: Ya tebya liubliu

Serbian: Volim te

Slovenian: Ljubim te

Spanish: Te amo

Swedish: Jag älskar dig

Turkish: Seni seviyorum

Vietnamese: Em yeu anh (woman to man); Anh yeu em (man to woman)

Welsh: Rwy’n dy garu di, or Rwy’n caru ti

 

 

Let’s get diacritical: necessary, helpful or pretentious?

Here’s a little exercise: which of the words in the following sentence do you think need a diacritic (or some sort of accent), and which don’t?

“Chloe and Rene are cooperating:  she’s reading his expose and he’s proofing her resume in a cafe where they’re eating pate as an appetizer, chicken mole as an entree, and souffle for dessert, all washed down with some rose, sake, frappe, and a soupcon of naive romance.”

As we can see from this sentence, there are a few English words — such as rosé, exposé, resumé, and saké — that can be more easily distinguished in meaning from their non-accented homographs (in this case the nouns rose and sake and the verbs expose and resume) by donning a diacritic; others don’t need the linguistic leg-up to be understood. As well as clarifying meaning, accents can serve another helpful purpose: to indicate pronunciation (e.g. frappé, naïve, soufflé).

English, unlike most other European languages, doesn’t have many words that contain diacritics, unless they have been adopted from other languages — especially French — and haven’t been fully assimilated into the vocabulary. However, there are a few exceptions: loanwords that appear in English more frequently with their native diacritics than not are café, cliché, and passé; also, curiously, those associated with food and cookery are less likely to lose their accents (eg. soupçonsoufflé and entrée). Words that have long been in the English vocabulary, even if originally imported from other parts of the world, tend to lose their foreign accessories eventually: hence facade, elite, decor, role and debut. The Associated Press, like most important style guides, ignores all accents. The Economist offers a sensible but ambiguous prescription, allowing for pronunciation accents that are considered ‘crucial’ and advocating accents ‘on French words’ (but who is to determine what is crucial and what is still French?):

“On words now accepted as English, use accents only when they make a crucial difference to pronunciation: cliché, soupçon, façade, café, communiqué, exposé (but chateau, decor, elite, feted, naive). If you use one accent (except the tilde—strictly, a diacritical sign), use all: émigré, mêlée, protégé, résumé. Put the accents and cedillas on French names and words, umlauts on German ones, accents and tildes on Spanish ones, and accents, cedillas and tildes on Portuguese ones: Françoise de Panafieu, Wolfgang Schäuble, Federico Peña, José Manuel Barroso. Leave accents and diacritical marks off other foreign names. Any foreign word in italics should, however, be given its proper accents.”

A number of words dress up or down — with or without their accents — according to personal and house style; examples are resumé, saké, naïve, élan, and séance. Proper names such as Renée, Zoë and Chloë* tend to retain rather than omit their original diacritical marks, arguably for their color as much as to encourage their correct pronunciation. The reality star Khloé Kardashian changed her first name from Khlóe to Khloé. Go figure.

Some old-fashioned (and dare I say slightly pretentious) writers prefer to retain accents that the rest of the English-speaking world have long since allowed to fall by the wayside: you’ll occasionally see élite, rôle, début and even hôtel in especially pompous prose. The diaeresis (similar to the German umlaut, and used to indicate neighboring vowels that shouldn’t be mixed but are pronounced separately) also falls into this old-fashioned category — naïve being a fairly common but singular exception (along with the girls’ names mentioned above). Words such as coöperate, reëstablish, and noöne now have modern spellings, often using a hyphen to separate offending vowel pairs: the OED lists them respectively as cooperate or co-operate, re-establish, and no one (two separate words). However, the New Yorker magazine, presumably staying true to its nearly 90-year-old style guide, still uses the diaeresis with consistency and pride.

 

Chloe is the name of a 1927 jazz standard written by Charles N. Daniels and Gus Kahn; a 2009 movie starring Julianne Moore, Liam Neeson and Amanda Seyfried; a hurricane (0f 1967); and a tropical storm (1971). Chloé is a French fashion house founded in 1952, and a 1875 painting by Jules Lefebvre. 402 Chloë is a large main-belt asteroid named after the goddess.