Prescriptivist's Corner: Hopefully

1 July 2002

One of the more common prescriptivist admonitions concerns the adverb hopefully. Prescriptivist mavens tell us that the word should only be used in the sense of in a hopeful manner, and not in the sense of it is to be hoped. So if we say, “Hopefully, Vinnie will give us good odds on the horse,” we mean that Vinnie is very confident the horse will lose, not that the speaker is optimistic about his chances for Vinnie being generous.

There are two problems with this strict interpretation of the meaning of hopefully. The first is that it is contrary to general usage. And the second is that it makes no sense grammatically.

People use hopefully all the time to mean it is to be hoped. “Hopefully, it will be sunny for the wedding” and “hopefully, Vinnie will let me skip a payment” are common formulations. It is true that this is a relatively recent usage, but it is one that has caught on like wildfire, especially in American speech. The Oxford English Dictionary only records this sense of the word from 1932.

But the underlying grammatical tradition is much older. The optimistic use of hopefully is as a sentence adverb. There are two distinct types of adverbs. A verb phrase adverb modifies the verb, as in “promptly pay Vinnie the money you owe him.” Promptly indicates the speed with which the money should be paid. A sentence adverb describes the attitude of the speaker, as in “seriously, you should not defer payment to Vinnie.” Seriously does not modify the verb defer, it reinforces the tone the speaker wishes to impart in the complete sentence.

Sentence adverbs have a long and distinguished history in English. Briefly dates to 1514 and was used by Shakespeare; seriously is from 1644; strictly, 1680; roughly, 1841; frankly, 1847; and honestly, 1898. Why should hopefully be any different just because it is a bit newer?

Some ardent prescriptivists retort that sentence adverbs like curiously can be converted into adjectival phrases with the form of “it is _____ that” with little or no change in meaning. So, the sentence “Curiously, Vinnie didn’t ask for payment” can be rendered as “it is curious that Vinnie didn’t ask for payment.

But, this only works for some sentence adverbs. “Frankly, you should pay Vinnie before he breaks your legs” cannot be rendered as “It is frank that, you should pay…”

There are a few cases, however, where the two meanings of hopefully can be confused, and here the ardent prescriptivists have a point. When someone says, “hopefully, the quarterback will hand the ball off to Jones,” there is no way to know exactly what is meant. Is Jones a reliable man who will get the first down? Or does he have a history of fumbling and handing the ball off to him is an act of faith? Where such confusion can occur, it is probably best to avoid using the word.

But in most cases, there is no possibility of confusion. When we say, “Hopefully, Vinnie will let me skip a payment” there is no doubt about meaning and our optimistic, if perhaps naïve, attitude.

Book Review: Power of Babel

1 July 2002

John McWhorter, professor of linguistics at the University of California Berkeley, has authored The Power of Babel, an overview of linguistic change. The book is aimed at the layperson and attempts to convey linguistic “truths” and smash popular myths about the nature of language and how it changes.

McWhorter does a superb job of taking what should be an impossibly broad topic, the history of language—all language—and distilling it down into a small number of discrete principles of change. Humans have been speaking languages for 150,000 years. There have been tens of thousands of languages throughout the millennia. Yet they all share common features and they change in patterned, if unpredictable, ways.

The Power of Babel frequently turns commonly held beliefs and perspectives on their head. For example, most people would accept that written language is “standard” and that spoken language is a poorer cousin. Actually, the opposite is true. We have been speaking for some 150,000 years, but writing for only 6,000. The oral properties of language are dominant and tend to drive change, with written language lagging behind and struggling to keep up. Writing, or more specifically printing, has had an impact on the pace of language change though. Just compare the difference in two centuries of change between Chaucer and Shakespeare with the four centuries between Shakespeare and today. The pace of change has slowed considerably since printing press came into widespread use. This is not just true of English, but also of other languages. The codification of grammar and spelling that comes with printing retards, but does not stop, language change.

Another widely held misperception is that the languages of primitive peoples are also simple and primitive compared to the languages of technologically advanced societies. Actually, the opposite is usually true. Grammatically, the languages of hunter-gatherers tend to be far more complex than modern European languages. McWhorter gives the example of the West African Fula language, which has some sixteen different grammatical genders (grammatical gender has only a tangential relation, at best, to sexual gender). Furthermore, within each gender the markers vary arbitrarily among the nouns, and there can be as many as four different variants for each marker. Fula makes one long for those days in 8th grade English when the teacher tried in vain to instruct us in the proper use of the subjunctive case.

Perhaps the most disturbing myth for many will be the fact that there is no “proper” way to speak or write. There are endless grammatical options and none is inherently superior to another. It doesn’t matter if you designate syntax through markers or through position in the sentence; both are equally effective. There may be social consequences and communications problems for individuals who speak in a non-standard fashion, but linguistically there is no good or bad and changes in grammatical patterns don’t mean a “dumbing down” or degradation of a language.

Each of his seven chapters and the epilogue address a particular aspect of language change. The first chapter deals with specific forms of linguistic change. McWhorter identifies six different types of linguistic change that are common to all language. The second chapter addresses dialects and how the concept of individual “languages” is a false one—there are only dialects. The third chapter deals with how languages mix and borrow—not just words but also linguistic concepts—from one another. And so on.

The book does suffer somewhat from the lack of a central organizing theory of language change. There is a unifying topic, language change, and some metaphors that are used consistently throughout, such as comparing language change to biological evolution. But he provides no central theory for historical change that unites the chapters. Perhaps though, this is too much to ask for. The individual chapters stand on their own. Essentially, the book comprises eight independent, but topically related, essays on linguistic change.

McWhorter writes in a readable and entertaining style. He peppers the text with references to popular culture, Asterus & Obelix cartoons, jokes, and personal reminiscences.

Still, The Power of Babel is not a casual read. Despite the non-academic style and references to The Simpsons, it is at its core a serious book. It is filled with examples of linguistic concepts and changes from a staggering number of different languages: English, Hindi, Fula, French, Zulu, Cheyenne, Turkish, Japanese, and many others. While these are interesting and compelling examples and the variety of languages represented contributes to the richness of McWhorter’s arguments, the continual examples in foreign languages disrupt the narrative flow. The book is better for the examples; it’s just that sometimes the reader is in for some heavy slogging in the middle of the chapters.

For the academically trained linguist, The Power of Babel offers little that is new. But for the layperson it is a (mostly) readable overview of how languages change and why. It dispels some common myths and provides insight and perspective on the one thing that makes humans unique in the animal kingdom, language.

Hardcover, 384 pp., W.H. Freeman & Co., Feb. 2002, $26.00.

Word of the Month: Fandom

1 July 2002

The word of the month for July is fandom, n., a base of enthusiasts for a particularly activity, book, movie, or television series; originally from baseball; from fan + [king]dom; (1903).

Fandom is quite a sub-cultural phenomenon. The word dates to the turn of the 20th century and was originally used to refer to baseball fans. But it achieves it greatest linguistic heights in the realm of science fiction. Science fiction fans have their own lingo in referring to themselves and to their activities.

Fans engage in criticism and discussion. They write their own stories, or fan fiction. They publish web sites and magazines devoted to their subject. All this activity generates a vocabulary and jargon unique to these sub-cultural groups.

The following terms are not exclusively used by science fiction fandoms. Many non-science fiction fandoms use them as well, and some are distinctly not from science fiction, wingnut for example. Within each individual fandom, there are specific terms relating to that subject, but for the most part I’ve included only those that are used across several fandoms or that are names for a particular grouping of fans, like Trekkie.

In the definitions that follow, series refers to any continuing chain of stories about a common set of characters and with a common setting. It can be a series of books, like Harry Potter, a television series like Star Trek, or movies like Indiana Jones.

Alternative history, n., fan fiction that changes the premise of an established series.

Alternative timeline, n., fan fiction that diverges from the canonical series at a specific point.

Anime, n., Japanese animation style.

APA, n., Amateur Press Association, a group of fans who all contribute to a limited circulation fanzine that is distributed among them; (1950).

BEM, n., acronym for bug-eyed monster.

BNA, n., abbreviation for Big Name Author.

BNF, n., Abbreviation for Big Name Fan, a fan who is well known among fellow fans.

Booter, n., fan of the Reboot TV series (1994-98, 2001), the first computer-animated television series. Also Bootnik.

BtVS, n., Buffy the Vampire Slayer. US television series (1997-present).

Canon, n., the accepted “true” history of a series; what is considered canon varies with the fandom, e.g., J.K. Rowling’s books are the canon for Harry Potter, the movie is not. In Buffy, the Vampire Slayer fandom, the TV series is canonical, the movie (which came first) is not.

Completist, n., an obsessive and often indiscriminate collector; (1955).

Con, n. and affix, convention, a gathering of fans; (1944).

Contrib, n., clipped from contribution, a submission to an APA or zine.

Cosplay, n., from cos[tume] + play, to dress up as anime characters.

Crossover, n. and adj., the mixing of characters from two distinct fandoms, may be fan fiction as in Kirk meets Luke Skywalker, or may be canonical, as in the detectives from Law & Order and Homicide: Life On the Streets cooperating on a case in episodes of the two TV series.

Cyberpunk, n. & adj., science fiction sub-genre centered on computers and disillusioned heroes in a world run by multi-national corporations. Bill Gibson’s Neuromancer series is classic cyberpunk. The Matrix is probably the best known example of cyberpunk.

Doctor Who, n., UK television series (1963-89).

Dwarfer, n., Red Dwarf fan, UK television series (1988-99).

Ep, n., clipping of episode.

Fan n.; an aficionado, one devoted to a particular series of stories, 1887, originally from baseball; probably a clipped form of fanatic; often thought to come from fancy or fancier, but there is no strong evidence of this. In fandom, fans are those that actively participate in groups, cons, or zines. Casual readers/viewers are not considered fans, no matter how much they like the series.

Fanfic, n., fiction, written by fans, about characters in literature, movies, or television; clipping of fan fiction.

Fanwank, n., an explanation made up by fans to resolve an inconsistency or explain an anomaly in the story; from fan + wank (masturbate); also a v.

Fanzine, n., a magazine for fans of a particular series of stories, from fan + [maga]zine; (1941).

Fen, n., plural form of fan. Parallels man/men in form.

Filk, v., to write a song parody about the subject of one’s fandom. Also n. for the product of filking.

Furry, n. & adj., fandom subgenre concerned with anthropomorphic animals.

Gafiate, v., to quit fandom, from acronym GAFIA for “get away from it all.”

Gay Nazis for Christ, n., self-appellation given in front of mundanes. Supposedly, BNA Robert Heinlein was guest of honor at a con. While sharing an elevator with some mundanes, they asked him who all these strange people were. This was his reply.

Gamer, n., a fan of role-playing games; (1976).

Hammerspace, n., type of n-dimensional space in badly written fan fiction from which characters can produce life-saving tools or devices, such as hammers.

H:LOTS, n., Homicide: Life On The Streets. US television program (1993-99).

Hugo, n., award for science fiction. Named after Hugo Gernsbach, an early sci-fi editor.

Jossed, adj., previously written fan fiction that is rendered inconsistent with canon by subsequent developments is jossed; after the creator of Buffy the Vampire Slayer Joss Whedon, who is famous for unexpected plot and character twists.

Mary Sue, n., a fan fiction or guest character who is an avatar of the author, is nearly flawless, has the key to an episode’s dilemma, and who has a romantic encounter with an established character; (1974). The term is derogatory. From Star Trek fandom. The term Mary Sue can refer to male characters as well as females, but sometimes males are called Marty Stu, Harry Stu, or Gary Stu.

Mistie, n., fan of Mystery Science Theater 3000 (MST), US television series (1988-99) that lampooned old science fiction and horror films.

Moonie, n., Sailor Moon fan, Japanese anime television series (1992-97).

Mundane, n., a non-fan.

Redshirt, n., anonymous character that is clearly destined to die in a story’s or episode’s early going; from the red-shirted security guards of original Star Trek series.

Relaxacon, n., a small con with little in the way of planned program. Essentially a party.

Retcon, n., a clipping of retroactive continuity; altering the established backstory or canonical history to provide for a desired change in plot direction; also a v.

Self-Insert, n., fan fiction where the author appears as a character.

Ship, n., a clipping of relationship; a hoped-for romantic or sexual relationship between two characters. Those who desire such a relationship are called shippers.

Slash, adj. and n., a romantic or sexual pairing of two characters in fan fiction, especially a homosexual one; from the convention of using a “/” between the two characters names to designate such works, such as Kirk/Spock or K/S; (1984 for adj.; 1988 for n.).

Spinoff, n. & v., a series based around one or two characters from an already established series, to create such a series. Originally a business term (1957), applied to broadcasting in 1963.

Spoiler, n., information that reveals the plot or outcome of a story.

Spoiler space, n., space left at the top of newsgroup messages, so that people don’t inadvertently read the spoilers contained therein.

ST:TNG, n., Star Trek: The Next Generation. US television series (1987-94).

ST:TOS, n., Star Trek, US television series (1966-69). The TOS stands for The Original Series.

Trekker/Trekkie, n., a Star Trek fan; there is no consensus on which of these terms is derisive and which is complimentary, but invariably one is used derisively and the other in a complimentary fashion; 1973 for Trekkie, 1978 for Trekker.

Twinking, v., the sudden granting of new powers, skills, or abilities to a character that conveniently enables them to escape a situation or change the direction of a plot.

-verse, suffix, used to describe the fictional world of a particular fandom, distinguishing it from the real world, e.g., the Buffyverse or Trekverse; from universe.

Winger/Wingnut, n., a fan of The West Wing, US television series (1999-present).

Zine, n., a clipping of magazine; (1947).

Prescriptivist's Corner: Quotation Marks

1 June 2002

It seems like a silly question, but when is it proper to use quotation marks? And how should they be used? Quotation marks are one of the basic forms of punctuation, but they are among the most often misused. And the situation is complicated because American and British styles differ on the point. (And on the name. They’re inverted commas in Britain.)

As to the first question, when should quotation marks be used, there are six different situations when they are appropriate.

1) When making a direct quotation.
2) When referring to a word as a word, as in: the word “word.”
3) When using a word ironically or when not in agreement with the word’s applicability, as in: Vinnie provides loans at “reasonable” rates of interest.
4) When coining a new word or using slang or a technical term that will likely be foreign to the reader, as in: the “vig” was thirty percent. But quotation marks should only be used for the first reference.
5) To mark the titles of poems, articles, essays, and book chapters.
6) To mark epithets, as in: Vinnie “The Squid” Calamari or Louis XIV, “the Sun King.” Commonly accepted epithets that substitute for the real name, like Babe Ruth, need not have quotation marks.

Quotation marks should not be used for emphasis. If you want to emphasize a word, use italics or a bold font. If those fonts are not available (say you’re still using a typewriter or using ASCII text), then underlining or *marking* with asterisks are the appropriate ways to denote emphasis.

Italics are also acceptable for marking neologisms (number 4 above).

Okay, so we know now when to use quotation marks, but how do we use them? First, we’ll deal with the American practice and then note the differences between that and British practice.

Direct quotations should be surrounded by double quotation marks, as in: Vinnie said, “if the payment is late, you’ll need crutches.” If paraphrasing, do not use marks, as in: Vinnie told me if we didn’t pay, he’d break our legs.

Single quotation marks should be used for quotes within quotes, as in: She said, “Mr. Calamari stated in his testimony that, ‘there ain’t no such thing as the Mafia.’” For quotes within quotes within quotes, you revert to double quotation marks again, alternating them for each subsequent nested quotation.

Quotations that are inset in block form, usually long excerpts, do not require quotation marks.

When marking running quotations that are several paragraphs long, use open quotation marks on each paragraph, but use the closing marks only on the final paragraph:

Vinnie said, “I was shocked and horrified to find that the man had been threatened.
“I’m a businessman, I have no need for threats.”

When marking dialogue, place each speakers’ words in their own paragraphs with their own quotation marks, no matter how brief the words are:

“Did he pay up?”
“Yeah.”
“Any trouble?”
“No. He didn’t want to pay at first, but he understood real quick.”

Do not use quotation marks in Q-and-A or interview format where each statement is preceded by the speaker’s name or other identifying notation:

Prosecutor: Did you threaten to break the man’s legs?
Calamari: No, it was a friendly conversation.

At the end of the quoted material, place periods and commas within the quotation marks, regardless of whether or not they are part of the quote, as in: “That’s three Gs you’ll owe me next week,” Vinnie said.

Exclamation points and question marks are treated differently than periods or commas. They go inside the closing mark if they are part of the quoted material and outside if they aren’t. For example: Vinnie asked, “do you have the money you owe me?” and Did Vinnie say, “I’ll break your legs”?

As we mentioned, British usage varies somewhat from the American style described above. The first major change is with the double vs. single quotation marks. British practice is to reverse the sequence, single marks are used first and double marks for quotes within quotes: She said, ‘Dinsdale Piranha told me that if I didn’t pay I would “go for a swim in the Thames”.’

The second major difference in style is that British usage requires you follow the same rules for periods and commas as you do for question marks and exclamation points. They go inside the quotation marks if they are part of the quoted material and outside if not. Note the example at the end of the last paragraph. The period at the end is not part of Piranha’s quotation; it is part of the woman’s. So, it is outside one mark and inside the other.

Which style, American or British, you use depends on who you are writing for. The editorial rules of the publisher should prevail. If you have the luxury of choosing the style, it really doesn’t matter so long as you are consistent.

Words on the Web: alt.usage.english FAQ

1 June 2002

If you’re not familiar with Usenet, you’re missing out on a rich part of the Internet experience. Usenet (short for “Unix User Network") is a hierarchy of discussion groups on all manner of subjects. It got its start back in 1979 when the Internet was still known as Arpanet. The discussion groups range from 3dfx.game.discussion to z-netz.wissenschaft.technik. Every subject under the sun has its own discussion group. The one we’re interested in is alt.usage.english (or AUE).

As you might guess, AUE is all about English grammar and style. The group discusses the English language (and also occasionally other languages); how particular words, phrases, and syntactic forms are used; their origin; where in the English-speaking world they’re prevalent; and how they should be used.

Recent topics of discussion include comma splices, why wormer and dewormer mean the same thing, and is there a Russian bias in OED etymologies?

The group is quite an active one, and keeping up with all the daily messages can be time-consuming. But the FAQ is available to all, not just those who read the group.

Most of these discussion groups have lists of frequently asked questions (FAQ) for newcomers to the particular group. Supposedly these FAQs exist so that regular contributors don’t have to answer the same questions over and over again. But often these FAQs are more than lists of questions and answers. They often contain detailed information on all aspects of the group’s topic, as well as conventions and idiosyncrasies of the group. For example by reading the FAQ on alt.folklore.urban, you will find out that posting smileys in your messages to that group is frowned upon.

The AUE FAQ is no exception. Compiled by Mark Israel, it was last updated in 1997 (an eternity in Internet time, but given the subject it’s hardly outdated; one notable exception is the discussion about when the new millennium starts, which is vestigial at this point).

The FAQ includes:
• Guidelines for posting
• Recommended dictionaries & books
• Artificial dialects
• Pronunciation
• Usage disputes
• Punctuation
• Foreigners’ FAQs
• Word origins
• Phrase origins
• Words frequently sought, and
• Spelling

Even if you never visit the AUE newsgroup or post a question or reply, the FAQ is a valuable on-line resource. There’s not much that you won’t find in other references, but it’s a one-stop shop for English language info.

It does have some specific Internet-oriented advice. A section of the FAQ discusses how to represent pronunciation in ASCII text. Also the section on specific problems that non-native speakers frequently encounter is useful and not found in many style or grammar manuals. And buried throughout are puzzles, wordplay, and fun forms that make the FAQ suitable for leisure reading (if you’re into this stuff that is).
So, if you want to find out how to pronounce ghoti, how many words end in –gry, the origin of golf, or whether it’s “company is” or “company are,” the AUE faq is only a mouse click away.