Someone at Trivago likes words (or languages).
Seen on London Transport in recent weeks:
Someone at Trivago likes words (or languages).
Seen on London Transport in recent weeks:
TGIF: That Gerund Is Funky. Words and language in the news this week include a schoolboy pointing out BMW’s bad grammar; a prime minister’s spelling error and a president’s incorrect pronunciation; the relationship between texting and bad (or good) spelling; and some real Nazis who are also grammar nazis. Continue reading
The New York Times wrote yesterday that “the Metropolitan Opera announced that it was canceling plans to simulcast John Adams’s “The Death of Klinghoffer” this fall to cinemas around the world.” The Guardian similarly reported that “New York’s Metropolitan Opera have cancelled an international simulcast of John Adams’ opera The Death of Klinghoffer due to ‘an outpouring of concern’ that it ‘might be used to fan global anti-semitism’.” (We won’t dwell on the newspaper’s strange plural conjugation “the Met have cancelled” — as if the opera company were a football team, or on its denial of a possessive s to the composer’s name, or on its dubious use of “due to”; all that can be left for another discussion or two.)
Glossophilia’s outpouring of concern is to do with the word simulcast, which has become ubiquitous as more and more live performances — theatrical, musical, operatic, even ecclesiastical — are being beamed over the airwaves and into cinemas, living rooms and public spaces around the world. But what does simulcast actually mean, and how does it distinguish itself from the older word broadcast?
The answer depends on what side of the Atlantic you’re on.
First, let’s take the more straightforward broadcast: Oxford Dictionaries defines the verb (and its related noun) as “to transmit (a programme or some information) by radio or television”. The word dates back to 1767, according to the Online Etymology Dictionary, as an adjective referring to the spreading of seed, from broad (adj.) + the past participle of cast (v.). Its figurative use is recorded from 1785, and the modern media use began with radio in 1922, as an adjective and noun. As a verb, it is recorded from 1813 in an agricultural sense, 1829 in a figurative sense, and from 1921 referring to radio.
Now let’s look at the younger and more media-hip simulcast — a portmanteau dating back to the 1940s that blends simultaneous and broadcast, taking us beyond seed-sowing and into a more complex world of technology and semantics. According to Oxford Dictionaries, it means “a simultaneous transmission of the same program on radio and television, or on two or more channels, eg. a Radio1/BBC2 simulcast”. Carried by more than one media channel, it differs from a broadcast not in its numerical or geographical reach, but by the number of vehicles that transport the light and sound waves across lawns and oceans.
But the North American definition is different: there the noun simulcast (and its related verb) refers to “a live transmission of a public celebration or sports event, eg. simulcasts of live races.”
It’s debatable whether the Klinghoffer simulcast-that-won’t-be should really have been labelled as such by either of the distinguished newspapers quoted above — whether they were American or British. Since it was to be transmitted by the Met’s own Live in HD series — ie. just one medium — the performance wasn’t technically going to be simulcast, as The Guardian reported. The New York Times is arguably even further off base, if you go by Oxford Dictionaries’ American definition, since the opera couldn’t be described as either a public celebration or a sports event by any stretch of the imagination. (The Met itself describes these events as either “performance transmissions” or simply “broadcasts”.)
But like all the Met’s Live in HD broadcasts, this transmission was set to reach millions of eyes and ears around the world — simultaneously. So if there were ever a case for stretching or changing the definition of the simulcast, many might argue that this is it.
Jockeys and briefs, tighty-wighteys and knickers … Welcome to the world of smalls. That’s one handy British nickname (strutting only its plural self in the undieworld) for undergarments that clothe our nether regions: what we all call underwear on both sides of the Atlantic. That’s about the extent of our agreement when it comes to naming our drawers and briefs: Brits and Americans tend to part company when chatting about their undies and their intimates, even though we generally understand each other’s proverbials…
There’s a funny quirk of the English public transport system that I was reminded of recently during a trip to Brighton. “Alight here for the pier”, bus passengers were advised by the recorded voice with a cut-glass accent reminiscent of BBC wartime broadcasts. Then I realized it isn’t just Sussex folk who alight from trains and buses: Londoners on the tube are told politely not just to “mind the gap” on boarding and exiting their carriages but also to alight for certain lines and destinations. “Alight here for Buckingham Palace” is something I can imagine A. A. Milne’s Christopher Robin might have chirped, but the word strikes me as a charming anachronism in 21st-century English. Would you hear it in any other context — or indeed in any other country?
A couple of days late this week, That Gerund Is Funky looks at words and punctuation in the news: two stories out of Cambridge – about bad spelling and wordless poetry; the role of the exclamation mark; has poetry become irrelevant?; and some extinct slang.
Happy Birthday, Thomas Hardy.
A Poet
Attentive eyes, fantastic heed,
Assessing minds, he does not need,
Nor urgent writs to sup or dine,
Nor pledges in the roseate wine.
For loud acclaim he does not care
By the august or rich or fair,
Nor for smart pilgrims from afar,
Curious on where his hauntings are.
But soon or later, when you hear
That he has doffed this wrinkled gear,
Some evening, at the first star-ray,
Come to his graveside, pause and say:
‘Whatever his message his to tell
Two thoughtful women loved him well.’
Stand and say that amid the dim:
It will be praise enough for him.
— Thomas Hardy (2 June 1840 – 11 January 1928)
English speakers are spoiled, having at their fingertips such a large, colorful vocabulary of words drenched in history, complexity, subtlety and nuance. But with their meanings constantly shifting and evolving, as they’re meant to do in a living language, many words are as slippery as fish: impossible to capture in the dictionary editor’s net with any definitive sense or identity, as their meanings twist and turn in the mouths and pens of their many users.
With that being said, it’s their complexities and subtleties — often an inherent part of the words’ very meanings — that are sometimes seen to be ebbing away, making their owners either increasingly confused with or newly synonymous with other similar words. Nuances are lost, definitions become more generalized, distinctions between words become more hazy, and a few words are even turning into contranyms, ie. the opposite of themselves (see Glossophilia’s earlier post on this topic).
Here are 28 words that are going through or have already undergone this transformation. Continue reading
Why punctuation matters (Somewhere in America, Memorial Day, May 26)
TGIF: Language in the news and on the web this week includes a spelling bee tie, a poetic birthday celebration in Siberia; some words that mean the opposite of themselves; some foreign words that are untranslatable; voting words into the dictionary; a very fashionable pronunciation guide; and a war against euphemism and cliche.
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Two boys won this year’s National Scripps Spelling Bee. As CBS News reported, “Sriram Hathwar of Painted Post, New York, and Ansun Sujoe of Fort Worth, Texas, shared the title after a riveting final-round duel in which they nearly exhausted the 25 designated championship words. After they spelled a dozen words correctly in a row, they both were named champions.”
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To mark the 215th anniversary of the birth of Alexander Pushkin on June 6, one of Russia’s greatest poets, the Siberian city Novosibirsk is going to offer free rides on its underground to anyone who can recite at least two verses from any of his Pushkin’s poems. The BBC reports on this poetic event.
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Here’s one of the reasons I love mental_floss: today it gives us 25 words that are their own opposites – otherwise known as contronyms. “Because of the agency’s oversight, the corporation’s behavior was sanctioned.” Confused? Yeah … That’s what contranyms can do. (And even contranym doesn’t know how to spell itself, let alone decide what it means.)
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Do you think adorkable or duckface should be legitimate, dictionary-worthy words? Well, if you feel strongly enough either way, you can have your say. According to a report in The Economist, Collins Dictionary is going to add a word to its dictionary based on votes collected through Twitter.
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Is your inability to pronounce designers’ names making your life a misery? If so, Harper’s Bazaar has come to the rescue, publishing an A-Z cheat sheet to help you tackle Moschino, Hermes, Miu Miu, Lanvin and more. You never need be embarrassed again when getting your fashion lingo on …
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Bored Panda brings us 30 untranslatable words from other languages – with some attractive illustrations by Anjana Iyer. This picture captures the meaning of the Japanese word bakku-shan, for example, in a way that the English language simply can’t.
Anjana Iyer, from Bored Panda
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Ending on a serious note this week, Adam Gopnik in the New Yorker wrote movingly about the need to speak clearly and directly when conveying hard truths. Commenting after the recent California shooting, Gopnik commended the father of one of the victims for doing just this. “The war against euphemism and cliché matters not because we can guarantee that eliminating them will help us speak nothing but the truth but, rather, because eliminating them from our language is an act of courage that helps us get just a little closer to the truth. Clear speech takes courage.”
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