Slang in Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Part 1)

1 October 2002

(This is part one of a two-part article. The second installment will appear in the November issue.)

It is not unusual for movies to use accents and dialects to create mood and a sense of location. Whether it is Meryl Streep adopting a Polish accent in Sophie’s Choice, Joe Pesci playing the out of towner with a New York accent in My Cousin Vinnie, or the entire cast of the Coen brothers’ Fargo setting the location in rural Minnesota, the use of dialect in entertainment is well established. The use of dialect in television, however, is rarer. Sure there is the occasional character from New York who is readily identifiable by his accent and use of youse guys, but other uses are of dialect relatively rare. One show, however, that makes good use of dialect, but not always the dialect of a particular place, is Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer (hereafter BtVS) is a popular American television series broadcast in the United States on the WB (1997-2001) and UPN (2001+) networks. The series started in the spring of 1997 and is based on a rather unmemorable 1992 movie of the same title. The show concerns the adventures of Buffy Summers, a Southern California teenager who has been chosen by mysterious and unnamed powers to be the “Slayer.” The Slayer is a girl with preternatural strength and abilities called to rid the world of vampires and other demons. Buffy and her friends fight all manner of evil creatures in the fictional Southern California town of Sunnydale, under the guidance of Giles, an English librarian and Buffy’s “watcher.”

BtVS is a blend of genres, combining horror, martial arts, comedy, morality play, teen drama, and romance. It is sophisticated and eclectic, mixing slapstick with jokes about Sophocles’s Oedipus The King and questions about a soul’s ability to be redeemed with well choreographed and intense martial arts sequences. The premise is fantastic, but the characters are realistic. The acting is of high quality and the writing is tight and witty. It is one of the best shows currently on network television.

The show is also inventive, pushing the envelope of creativity. This past season featured a musical episode where a dancing demon came to Sunnydale, forcing the characters to sing their darkest secrets to one another. Hush, perhaps the best episode of the series, features 28 minutes without dialogue. Another episode that dealt with the death of a major character had no musical soundtrack, underscoring the characters’ grief with eerie silence.

But the most consistently creative element of the show is its use of language. The series is interesting linguistically for several reasons. One is its heavy reliance on slang to set the mood and establish the characters. As series creator Joss Whedon describes the students of Sunnydale High School in the script of the first episode, “They could be from anywhere in America, but for the extremity of their dress and the esoteric mania of their slang. This is definitely So. Cal.”

The characters are also self-aware of their language. Like many of the readers of this newsletter, Buffy is at times puzzled by etymology. At one point she comments, “they had tools, torches, the whole nine yards...What does that mean? The whole nine yards...nine yards of what? Now that’s gonna bug me all day.” When Buffy’s friend Willow is accused of being drunk, she defends herself by changing the subject to linguistics, “Drunk is a pretty strong word. Kind of an Anglo-Saxon word. Guttural. ‘Drunk.’” In another episode, Willow also muses over the proper past tense form of to slay, wondering if it is slayed or slew. Giles assures her that both are correct.

Another point of linguistic interest is that the writers attempt, with varying degrees of success, to incorporate realistic accents and regional usages to mimic the speech patterns found in various places in the US and the British Isles. This effort has not been lost on the fans of the show, who have dubbed the language of the show Slayerspeak.

Slayerspeak v. Real Teenspeak
Slayerspeak, however, is not a completely realistic depiction of how California teens talk. Sure it uses some aspects of actual teen slang, but Whedon and the writers do not deliberately attempt to be faithful to California teen-speak. They did in one scene in the first episode:

APHRODESIA [speaking to AURA]: The new kid? She seems kind of weird to me. And what kind of name is Buffy?
GIRL [as she passes by]: Hey, Aphrodesia.
APHRODESIA: Hey.
AURA: Well, the chatter in the caf is that she got kicked out and that’s why her mom had to get a new job.
APHRODESIA: Neg.
AURA: Pos. She was starting fights.
APHRODESIA (opening her locker): Negly!
AURA (opening hers): Well, I heard it from Blue, and she saw the transcripts— (Something flies out of the locker at her! She screams as the dead body of the boy from the opening [scene] collapses on her, eyes horribly wide.)

Whedon says they toned down the “wacky California-speak” after the first episode because the audience didn’t understand or respond to it. Now the characters still speak oddly, but Whedon says it is “based on the way I and the writers speak rather than anything we think teenagers might want to say.”

Instead Slayerspeak is made of several elements:
• Actual slang terms;
• BtVS-specific jargon;
• Nonce coinages that fall into several distinct derivational pattern;
• Coinages based on references to popular culture; and
• Speech patterns, catchwords, and phrases particular to an individual character.

Actual Slang Terms
Unsurprisingly, the most common slang term in BtVS is cool. It’s used both as an adjective denoting hip or desirable and as an interjection denoting approval. The opposite of cool is lame and those who aren’t cool are given a variety of common slang names, such as nerd, geek, and dork.

Another word that gets multiple uses is extreme. Gym class is cancelled one day due to an extreme dead guy in the locker. A teacher has an extreme toupee. And the adjective is also used to describe a great summer vacation.

Among nouns, thing gets wide use. It has three primary senses. Most commonly it is used as a generic term for an object or abstraction. Buffy refers to the homework thing or the prophecy thing. Often the insertion of the word is completely superfluous. Buffy’s friend Willow asks the vampire Angel, “the reflection thing, that you don’t have, Angel, how do you shave?”

A thing is also used generically as an excuse to depart. Buffy’s friend Xander, who harbors a secret crush on Buffy that is never to be fulfilled, asks Willow to leave so he can ask Buffy out on a date by saying, “Willow, don’t you have a thing?” To which Willow replies, “A thing? The thing! That I have! Which is a thing. I have to go to it. See you later!”

Thing is also used specifically to refer to a crush or emotional feelings for another. Buffy’s advice to Giles on asking a woman out is, “just say, ‘Hey, I got a thing, you’re maybe feeling a thing, and there could be a thing.’” And Willow comments on Xander’s unrequited love for Buffy, “cause you kinda got a thing there and she kinda has a thing...elsewhere.”

The slang verb that gets the most use is to hang, meaning to keep company. Buffy is always hanging with the creepy librarian in that creepy library. Secondary meanings include to wait or to loiter. Buffy wonders why vampires are hanging at the park. A less frequent variant is hang out.

Another frequently used verb is to deal, meaning to cope with. Buffy comments, “and that shirt...Deal with that outfit for a moment” and “it’s just, I have so much to deal with...” Deal is also used as a noun, meaning situation, as in What’s her deal?

But perhaps the slang term most associated with BtVS is to wig, meaning to get upset and panicky. According to Buffy, parents tend to wig if their child is not a “picture perfect carbon copy of themselves.” The adjectival form is wiggy.

The word can also be used as a noun. Buffy says that ventriloquists’ dummies give her the wig. A second noun form is wiggins, meaning a creepy or scary feeling. Buffy says, “that place kind of gives me a wiggins.” And her friend Xander describes a creepy situation as a fair wiggins.

Other actual slang terms that are used include: to yak (vomit), come with, my bad, to bail (to leave and on one occasion is used as a noun meaning a rescue, thanks for the bail), to ditch (to leave, abandon), wuss, and of course dude (although this last one is most often by minor characters).

Slayerspeak is not limited to particular terms. It also includes particular patterns of speech. One of its characteristics is the use of negative constructions. The adverb not is frequently used to negate a statement. Instead of saying it is good, Xander opines that Buffy’s timing really doesn’t suck and he sarcastically describes himself as very not pathetic. The local nightclub is not happening.

Sex, Drugs, and Rock & Roll
In general, sex is a rich topic for slang terms and BtVS is no exception. In the first few seasons, however, when the characters are still in high school, sex is largely limited to smoochies. Boyfriends are cuddle-monkeys and romantic situations are cuddlesome. When a witch casts a love spell, she invokes the great roofie spirit. When the characters graduate on to college, sex becomes more of a staple of the show, but while the characters discuss sex frequently, many of the standard slang terms for sex remain rare—presumably because of the network censors.

Oddly, because censors pass judgment on the scripts, not the filmed version, it may be easier to show characters having sex than to have them talk about it. In a Halloween episode, Willow dresses as a streetwalker, but the script refers to her dressing as a total rocker babe.

Of all the characters, only two regularly use slang terms when speaking about sex. Spike, the English vampire, talks about shagging and taking a poke. The other one is Faith, another Slayer, who tends to refer to sex with a gutteral unh! (She also uses unh! in reference to killing vampires—the relationship between combat and sex is a recurring theme in the series.) Faith also refers to it as doing the horizontal two-step and to late-night encounters in the smootch spot as kicking the old gearshift. Of all the characters, Faith alone uses screw to mean engage in sexual intercourse. (Many of the characters use the phrases screwed up (messed up) and we’re screwed (in trouble).) Faith avoids long-term relationships, preferring to get some and get gone. She refers to her lovers as boy-toys and sex can be either with kinks or vanilla. And when Willow comes out of the closet, Faith rather uncharitably notes that Willow is not driving stick anymore.

A few other characters use the occasional sexual slang terms, such as hottie, butch, horny, randy, mack, or boink. A good-looking woman is matressable and, if the guy is lucky, also a bunny in the sack (with Viking in the sack being the male equivalent).

On the broader subject of sexuality, BtVS uses a few slang or nonce terms. To be male is to be in guy-ville, and when Willow needs help understanding her boyfriend she turns to Xander, who is a translator from the Y-side.

Drugs, another rich source of slang in the real world, get short shrift on BtVS. None of the characters are drug users and slang terms for drugs are utterly absent. Alcohol gets a few hits, but again not many as none of the characters are drinkers. Buffy refers to drinking alone in one’s home as Lost Weekending. Cold beer is frosty nectar. But that is about the extent of it.

Popular music also gets relatively few script references. The show regularly features up-and-coming Southern Californian bands that play in local Sunnydale hangouts, but music isn’t a big deal in the scripts. And when it is mentioned, usually it’s references to bands from the 70s and 80s (probably because the writers are in their 30s and 40s and that’s their frame of reference). Hence, Buffy refers to a gathering of vampires as a scare-a-palooza, a reference to the Lalapalooza rock concert. She calls a vampire wearing out-of-date clothes DeBarge, referencing an ‘80s rock band remembered more for their bizarre costumes than their music. And Willow refers to herself as a groupie when she starts dating a musician.

One episode features a nice display of music jargon that excludes a non-musician. Willow finds her musician boyfriend and an attractive female singer in conversation about amplifiers. They are tossing about jargon terms such as Hound Dog and Redbone (brand names of amplifiers). Willow, to her embarrassment, misinterprets the conversation, mistakenly thinking they are discussing Elvis songs.

BtVS-Specific Jargon
One would expect that a television series devoted to the occult and heavily reliant on slang to set the tone and mood would develop jargon terms specific to the series. While there are such terms, they are surprisingly few.

Among the terms limited to the series are those relating to vampires and other monsters. We have the clipped vamp for vampire and sire, denoting a vampire that creates another from one of his victims (not everyone bitten in the Buffyverse becomes a vampire, most just die). A werewolf wolfs out or is wolfy at the sight of a full moon. And the slang verb to suck is frequently used as a double entendre for something bad as well as a vampire attack. Buffy tells a vampire to suck on another town or refers to them having a suckfest.

Other terms include those that refer specifically to Buffy and her demon-hunting friends. They refer to themselves as the Scooby Gang, a pop culture reference to the 70s cartoon series Scooby Doo that is about ghost-hunting teenagers. A particularly nasty monster is a big bad, and the vampire Spike likes to refer to himself as the Big Bad.

So while BtVS doesn’t exactly mirror Southern California teen slang, it does make good use of elements of that slang in setting the mood and establishing the characters. The real linguistic joy of BtVS, however, is how the writers use a few derivational rules and patterns to create a panoply of unique slang terms and phrases. Next month, in part two of the article, we will examine how Joss Whedon and company go about this.

Book Review: Nigger: The Strange Career of a Troublesome Word

1 October 2002

Randall Kennedy has penned an insightful, thought-provoking, and balanced discussion of what he terms (in a gross understatement) “a troublesome word.” Nigger is perhaps the last surviving language taboo in American discourse. It is a word with tremendous social impact. It has been used as a justification for murder, university professors have been stripped of tenure merely for uttering it, and it is the one word that white rap artist Eminem refuses to utter.

Kennedy opens the book with a discussion of the word’s etymology, pointing out that it is from the Latin for black and that initially it was not derogatory. But by the early 19th century nigger had acquired a distinct offensiveness. Not only was it used to denigrate African-Americans, but it also served as social marker for the whites who uttered it; it is not a word used by the polite classes. Kennedy spends much of the first chapter giving examples of the cruelty and oppression delivered upon African-Americans over the centuries by whites using that term.

Kennedy then rapidly shifts gears and outlines other uses that the word has been put to. He discusses the comedy routines of Richard Pryor and Chris Rock, its use in rap music, and how it is often used as a compliment among some African-Americans. These other usages are not without controversy. Some find the word so inherently offensive they cannot bear any use of it. And there is the question whether there are any circumstances where a white person is justified in using it. Kennedy makes the important point that the word is more complex than just a straightforward slur.

The second chapter is devoted to the legal status of the word. Kennedy, a Harvard Law School professor and former clerk to US Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall, outlines four types of cases where the word has come to court. The first is where convicted African-Americans seek relief after it is revealed that prosecutors, judges, and jurors have used the term. In the past, the chances of receiving a new trial based on such evidence were slim to none, but in recent years this has undergone a dramatic reversal.

The second type of case is where an African-American defendant uses a white victim’s use of the word as a mitigating circumstance, usually attempting to get murder charges reduced to manslaughter. Generally such attempts have met with failure due to the “mere words” doctrine, which holds that words alone, no matter how offensive, cannot justify violence.

Kennedy’s third category of cases consists of those where African-Americans seek damages under anti-discrimination statutes and his fourth concerns cases where judges must decide whether juries should hear about the use of the term by witnesses and litigants (most famously in the O.J. Simpson trial, where police officer Mark Fuhrman had frequently used the word in the past). These generally meet with success, although the mere use of the word is usually insufficient in and of itself to justify claims for damages and sometimes judges rule that disclosing the linguistic habits of witnesses is sometimes more prejudicial than probative.

Kennedy concludes that the American legal system today, as a whole, has a rather balanced and fair view of the term. It is treated as a highly offensive term and indicative of racism and prejudice against African-Americans, but mere use of the word is not necessarily justification for reduced sentences or award of damages. Each case must be viewed in its entirety and on its own merits.

The third and substantively final chapter (the fourth chapter is simply a short summary) addresses the dangers of censorship and taking excessive offense at any use of the term.

One of these dangers is hypersensitivity. Many are familiar with the case of David Howard, a Washington, DC city official who, in 1999, used the term niggardly, which is etymologically and semantically unrelated to its offensive sound-alike. In storm of public outcry, Howard resigned and was subsequently rehired to an equivalent position. In another case that happened the same year halfway across the country, an African-American student at the University of Wisconsin stormed out of a classroom in tears when her white, English Literature professor discussed Chaucer’s use of niggard in class. The professor had specifically made the point to the class that the two words were unrelated and that Chaucer was not discussing blacks. The student subsequently sought to have a campus speech code set into place that would prevent any professor from using any word that might possibly cause offense. In the Howard case, no one can deny that his use of the term was shortsighted and bound to be misinterpreted. Howard made a very poor choice among several possible alternatives. But the Wisconsin case is clearly one of unalloyed hypersensitivity.

Kennedy also addresses the 1997 attempt to force Merriam-Webster to change its primary definition of nigger because some judged it to be insulting. The protesters held that the definition, which read “a black person—usu. taken to be offensive,” was a derogatory label for all blacks. While Kennedy has no sympathy for the protesters in this case, believing that they are simply taking offense where there is none to be taken, he does have criticism for Merriam-Webster’s reaction. Some of their arguments in defense are just as ludicrous—although the ones at the core are correct. Merriam-Webster tried to argue that the word was included because their criteria for inclusion were scholarly ones and that it was an important word—certainly true—but also admitted that they left the word out of certain editions based on the recommendations of their marketing department. Kennedy says they can’t have it both ways.

Kennedy’s other cases of hypersensitivity address the use of nigger by whites and in contexts where it is intended to be heard by white audiences. It is one thing for Chris Rock to use the term to address his African-American audience, but can Quentin Tarantino, a white, use it in his movie Pulp Fiction to address an African-American friend? Kennedy again comes through with a very balanced conclusion. While any use of the word by whites is suspect and should not be undertaken likely, the word is not the property of African-Americans. Tarantino’s use of the word should be judged by how it is used in the movie. His work should be judged by the standards of art criticism, not by his race.

A second danger that Kennedy points out relates to Huckleberry Finn and other words of literature that use the term. It is not as if these works are sacrosanct and should be immune from criticism, but most of the criticism leveled against them isn’t critical. It comes from people who count the number of times the word is used and then declare offense. Instead they should consider how the word is used), and consider the entire book in context. Twain invariably uses the word in criticism of slavery and discrimination and as a mark of the prejudice of the whites who use it, not than as a slur against the intended African-American targets. The book, however, can offend and teachers should take care in their instruction, but that doesn’t mean that it should be stripped from the curriculum.

The final danger that Kennedy addresses has to do with excessive punishments for people who use the word. He features the case of a white, university basketball coach who used the term in front of his players in a complimentary fashion to mean a hard-charging player who performed at the highest levels on the court. Prior to using the word, he asked his black players if they would be offended. To a man they said no. When word of the coach’s use of the term leaked out, he lost his job.

Kennedy doesn’t defend the coach’s use of the term. It was in questionable taste and shortsighted. But he does object to the punishment. A reprimand would have been appropriate; firing was excessive. Interestingly, this contrasts with an earlier discussion of a district attorney who was removed when he was overheard using the word in a bar. Kennedy applauds this dismissal. Again, Kennedy comes through with a balanced and reasonable argument. The district attorney has tremendous discretion and power. He decides what criminal charges to bring. He decides whether or not to seek the death penalty for certain crimes. A district attorney must be beyond reproach, without a hint of racism or bias. The same does not apply to a college basketball coach. Again, context is vital.

Kennedy’s book is an excellent monograph on the word and its use and place in American society today.

Hardcover; 256 pages; Pantheon Books; ISBN: 0375421726; 8 Jan 2002; $22.00.

Word of the Month: Halloween

1 October 2002

The end of October is when all the ghosts and goblins come out. 31 October is Halloween and that is our word of the month. Presented here is something of a Halloween bestiary of spooks and specters (and some commonplace things) that one might find on the last night of the month.

Halloween, n., holiday celebrated on 31 October, supposedly the night that witches and demons emerge. The word is a clipping of All-Hallow Even. The modern, clipped form is from the 18th century, but All Hallow’s Eve dates to the 16th, and Allhallowmass, denoting all the saints, dates to 1083. According to the Celtic calendar, 1 November was the first day of the New Year. The night of last day of October was Old Year’s Night or the night of the witches. With the coming of Christianity, it was transformed into a holiday to celebrate the saints.

Bogle, n., a spectre, goblin, or phantom. Various forms exist, including boggard, boggart, boggle, and bogy. From 1500 in Scottish literature, in England a bit later. The ultimate origin is unknown, but it may be from the Welsh bwg or bug in English, also meaning a goblin or spectre.

Candy, n., a sweet confection, especially crystallized sugar. From the French candi, found in sucre candi. It makes its English appearance c. 1420 as sugar candy, clipped to candy by 1769.

Chocolate, n. and adj., a beverage (originally) or food made from cacao seeds and other flavorings. From the French chocolat, ultimately from the Mexican chocolatl. It is, interestingly, etymologically unrelated to cacao or cocoa.

Costume, n., clothing intended to represent a particular period or character. From the French, which in turn is from the Italian, and which ultimately is from the Latin consuetudinem (Cf. custom). In English use since 1715. Originally a term used by Italian performance artists.

Demon, n., an evil spirit or being. From the Latin daemon, which in turn is taken from Greek mythos. From 1387 in English usage, but the earliest English usages reflect the Greek sense, a spirit that often guides the affairs of men. The sense of an evil being dates to c. 1400.

Fiend, n., the original meaning is simply an opponent or foe. From the Old English féond. The word originally appears in Beowulf. By c. 1000 fiend was being applied to Satan (the foe of humanity) or to other demons. Applied to evil people by c. 1220.

Ghost, n., now primarily used to denote the spirit of a deceased person who manifests itself to the living (1386). From the Old English gást, cognates are found in other West Germanic languages. Earlier senses include the soul or spirit of life; a spirit, good, evil, or neutral; the spirit of God (now only used in the phrase Holy Ghost); all dating to c. 1000 or earlier.

Ghoul, n., an evil spirit that robs graves and feeds on human corpses, by extension a human that does the same. From the Arabic ghūl, originally from Arabian folklore. Found in English from 1786.

Goblin, n., a demon. From the obsolete French gobelin. In use in English by c. 1327. The French word is not recorded until the 16th century, but there are 12th century references to a demon with the name Gobelinus. The ultimate origin is not known, perhaps from the Medieval Latin cobalus, a rogue or knave.

Imp, n., a small devil or demon. From the Old English impa. The original sense was a graft or scion of a tree or plant, from c. 897. It was applied to children by c. 1380. The sense of a child of the devil or of hell dates to 1526.

Jack O’Lantern, n., a lantern made from a hollowed-out pumpkin and a candle, with holes cut in the rind to represent eyes, nose, and mouth. This sense dates to 1837. Older senses meaning a man with a lantern and a will-o’-the-wisp date to the 17th century.

Lycanthrope, n., a mentally ill person who imagines himself an animal, especially a wolf. Recorded in ancient Greek texts, it makes its English appearance in 1584 (lycanthropy). From the Greek for wolf + man. 19th century writers began using it as synonym for werewolf.

Mischief Night, n., night that children commit pranks and vandalism, often with the mistaken belief that the law allows them one night a year to do so. Various nights of the year qualify depending on the region. 30 October, the night before Halloween, is a popular choice. Called Devil’s Night in some parts of the US (e.g., Michigan), it is often associated with arson and more serious crimes. From 1865.

Ogre, n., a man-eating monster, a giant. English usage dates to 1713. From the French. First used in that language in 1697. Possibly formed from the Italian dialectical *ogro, which may be from the Latin orca, or whale.

Orc, n., a monster or ogre. From 1598. Perhaps taken from the Latin orca, a whale. Although there is a single use of orcneas in Beowulf to denote monsters. A rare word until J.R.R. Tolkien used it in The Hobbit (1937) to describe a warlike race of goblins.

Pumpkin, n., a type of orange squash, Cucurbita pepo. A 17th century alteration of pompion, which in turn is from an obsolete French name for the melon.

Spook, n., a spectre, apparition, or ghost. From 1801 in American usage, 1859 in British. Either from the Dutch spook or the German spuk. Forms first appear in Middle Low German, the ultimate etymology is not known.

Trick or Treat, int., traditional American request for candy given by children going door-to-door in their neighborhoods, originally a threat of vandalism unless they were appeased with candy. Surprisingly, the term can only be dated to 1941, when the Saturday Evening Post published a poem by that title. In 1937 that magazine ran a cover illustration titled Trick or Treaters. The practice may not be that much older, perhaps only dating to the 1930s, instituted as a means of controlling children bent on mischief.

Troll, n., from Scandinavian mythology a race of supernatural beings. Once depicted as giants, they shrunk over the centuries and became a dwarfish race living a subterranean existence. From the Swedish and Old Norse troll. The word makes its English appearance in the 19th century, except in the Shetland and Orkney Islands where it has survived as a relic of the Norse dialect originally spoken there. The modern Shetland/Orkney form is trow.

Vampire, n., a supernatural being that feeds of the blood of humans. In English use from c. 1734. The English word is borrowed from French. The ultimate origin is uncertain. Some trace it to the Hungarian vampir, others to Serbian. Cognates exist in most European languages.

Warlock, n., primarily used today to mean a male witch. From the Old English wǽrloga, originally meaning an oath breaker or traitor. The word has had many senses including: a wicked person; a damned soul; Satan; a devil or demon; and a monster; all of which date to c. 1000 or before. The sense of a person or demon in league with Satan and who practices sorcery dates to the 14th century.

Werewolf, n., a person who is capable of changing into a wolf, usually, according to folklore, during a full moon. The word makes one appearance in Old English, werewulf, c. 1000. Usually thought to be a combination of wer (man) + wulf (wolf), but the extra e confounds linguists, it shouldn’t be there. Other combining forms drop the e, as in wergeld. Cognates exist in Dutch and German.

Wicca, n., the name given to the modern, religious practice of witchcraft. Revival of the Old English wicca (Cf. witch). In modern use since 1959.

Witch, n., a practitioner of magic or sorcery, usually depicted as a woman, but a witch can be either male or female. From the Old English wicca (masc., c. 890) and wicce (fem., c. 1000).

Book Review: The Way We Talk Now

1 September 2002

Since 1989, linguist Geoffrey Nunberg has been a regular commentator on National Public Radio’s Fresh Air. He regularly delivers essays about the changing nature of the American language. The Way We Talk Now is a collection of some of the best of these radio essays.

His essays cover the spectrum of language change, from etymology to the influence of politics on language to grammar and usage issues. His subjects include cigarette jingles, how the meaning of superman has changed over the years, what is a cult, and spelling bees.

Nunberg takes a compromise position in the debate over whether change in the language is a good thing. He recognizes that rules like never splitting an infinitive are silly and have no basis in good grammar, yet he does admit there is such a thing as good writing and speech and that not all changes are to the good. He writes in his essay on the Ebonics controversy of 1997, “it has nothing to do with the ‘the language of Shakespeare.’ Their immediate task is to teach their charges to speak like kids in middle-class suburbs, so that they can grow up to become competent speakers of the brutalist clatter of the American political and business worlds. They don’t have to talk like James Baldwin, but it is clearly to their advantage to be able to give a passable imitation of George Bush.”

Perhaps the first thing that strikes you about the essays is the wit. Nunberg is genuinely funny. He compares E.B. White’s Charlotte to a public relations executive, “so she gets a rat to pick some clippings out the garbage, and then she spins a gossamer of words out of her rear, and all of a sudden everyone’s looking at the pigsty with new eyes.” In another essay he takes on the implications of a grammar quiz that appears in Cosmopolitan magazine, “just the thing to keep him interested. That pretty little mouth of yours drawn in a pout as it closes around a whom.”

If there is a problem with the book, it is that there is no organizing principle other than discussion of our changing language. Still, since this is a collection of essays written over a 13-year span, this is to be expected. The essay format makes the book ideal for snatching a quick read when you have two or three minutes to spare. It can be picked up and put down again without loss of continuity—perfect for subway or airplane reading.

Houghton Mifflin, 256 pp, Oct. 2001, paperback, $14.00.

Prescriptivist's Corner: The Catastrophe of Apostrophes

1 September 2002

One of the more troublesome punctuation marks is the simple apostrophe. Editors and writers simply cannot agree on its proper use. There is no disagreement over the major function of the mark, but like many things the devil is in the details. The application of the apostrophe is a grammatical catastrophe.

One would think it was simple enough. Over its history, the apostrophe has served three basic functions, one of which has been falling out of use in recent years. First, it substitutes for missing or silent letters. Second, it marks the possessive case. Finally, the practice that is dying out is the use to mark the plural of acronyms, numbers, or letters.

Sins of Omission
The apostrophe was introduced into English in the 16th century as a means of marking where a letter or letters were omitted. Today, this most commonly occurs in contractions, like it’s for it is and don’t for do not. But the apostrophe is also used in certain words that are traditionally spelled with their silent letters omitted to better represent pronunciation. These include fo’c’s’le (forecastle), bo’s’n (boatswain), ne’er-do-well (never-do-well), rock ‘n’ roll (rock and roll), and o’er (over). And the apostrophe can also be used in place of the letter e in the adjectival suffix –ed when the root word ends in a fully pronounced vowel. Thus you have shampoo’d hair instead of shampooed hair, subpoena’d witness instead of subpoenaed witness, and shanghai’d sailor instead of shanghaied sailor. Not all writers and editors follow this last practice (and evidently from the red squiggles that are appearing on my computer screen, Microsoft’s spell checker doesn’t like it much either), but use of the apostrophe in such instances cannot be considered incorrect, just in violation of house style.

The apostrophe can also be used to substitute for omitted numerals. This is most commonly done in dates: the ‘60s.

Possessive/Genitive
The second major use of the apostrophe is in forming the possessive (genitive) case.

The singular possessive of nouns and the possessive of plurals that do not end in s are formed with ‘s (e.g., Vinnie’s loan and men’s wagers). The possessive of plurals that end in s are formed with just an apostrophe (e.g., the brass knuckles’ shiny surface).

This rule for possessives is almost invariable. Singular nouns and names that end in the letter s take ‘s to form the possessive. Thus, it is Charles’s, not Charles’. There are three exceptions. The first is a handful of classical names that end in s. These take just the apostrophe to form the possessive. Thus it is Achilles’ heel, Moses’ laws, and Jesus’ parables.

The second exception is in proper names of places and institutions. In some cases, the apostrophe is dropped and the possessive is formed with just an s. There is no rule to determine when to drop the apostrophe; you just have to rely on tradition or the institution’s preference. Thus Vinnie might be locked up on Riker’s Island, but his hometown is Toms River, New Jersey. He might knock over Barclays Bank, but he would torch Woolworth’s Department Store for the insurance money. The trend in recent years has been for businesses to drop the apostrophe in their names.

The third exception is in the phrase for goodness’ sake(s). Traditionally, this term only takes the apostrophe, not the ‘s. Some authorities also claim that it should be for conscience’ sake and for appearance’ sake as well, but this is not followed by the majority of American writers. Most writers and editors prefer for conscience’s sake and for appearance’s sake.

The possessive of pronouns is a bit different than it is for nouns. Personal pronouns do not take an apostrophe in the possessive: his, hers, its, theirs, yours, and ours. Impersonal and indefinite pronouns, however, do take the apostrophe: anybody’s guess, each other’s wagers, one’s debts, and somebody else’s money.

Remember, the most common error regarding the apostrophe is confusion between it’s and its. It’s is the contraction for it is and its is the possessive pronoun. Even the best writers make this error, often the result of carelessness, rather than ignorance.

While the rule on possessives is simple and (almost) universal, in actual application it can be a bit complex at times.

Possessive of Compound Nouns
Compound nouns only take the ‘s at the end of the final element: Duke of Edinburgh’s gaffe, Genco Olive Oil’s customers.

Possessive of Joint Nouns
The phrase Vinnie and Sonny’s buttonmen indicates that Vinnie and Sonny are partners and jointly employ a group of buttonmen. Vinnie’s and Sonny’s buttonmen indicates that there are two groups of buttonmen, each individual employing one of the groups.

Double Possessive
Then there is the question of the double possessive. I probably shouldn’t go off on a rant here, but it never ceases to amaze me when linguists and lexicographers abuse the language to the point that they utterly fail to communicate. Of all people, they should know better. Here is what Robert Burchfield, editor of the OED2, has to say about the double possessive: “The currency of the type a friend of my father’s is not in question. It is called the post-genitive in CGEL; Jesperson says that of-phrases thus used should not be called partitive but ‘appositional’; the OED describes the construction as ‘of followed by a possessive case or absolute possessive pronoun: originally partitive but subseq. used instead of the simple possessive (of the possessor or author) where this would be awkward or ambiguous, or as equivalent to the appositive phrase’.” I don’t know about you, but it took me about three hours to figure out what Burchfield means. What is the point of writing a grammar manual if no one can understand what you say?

What Burchfield is trying to say is that constructions like a friend of my father’s or a buttonman of Vinnie’s are a common English idiom. On the face of it, the addition of the ‘s is redundant and unnecessary, but it has been done this way since we were speaking Middle English. There is nothing wrong with the double possessive. Now, why didn’t he just say that?

Adjectival Names
A common error is to use the possessive when a proper name is used as an adjective. It should be Vinnie altered the spread for the Giants game, not Vinnie altered the spread for the Giants’ game.

Possessive of Possessive Names
Many businesses, like McDonald’s or Woolworth’s, use the possessive form as their name. How does one use these in the possessive? Technically, I guess one could write McDonald’s’s quarterpounders or Woolworth’s’s toys, but the only good way is to create the possessive with a prepositional phrase, as in the quarterpounders at McDonald’s or the toys at Woolworth’s.

Inanimate Objects
Some authorities argue that inanimate objects cannot possess other things, therefore one should not use the ‘s with things. They say it should be the shiny surface of the brass knuckles, not the brass knuckle’s shiny surface. This is a silly argument. One does not avoid the ownership question by using of instead of ‘s. And the possessive case is not really about ownership. If it were, Karl Marx wouldn’t have written, “Workers of the world unite! You have nothing to lose but your chains.” After all, it’s the capitalists and not the workers that own everything. He would have written, “…nothing to lose but the chains that bind you.” Rather, the possessive is really about identification and reference, about winnowing the universe of shiny surfaces down to the one shiny surface associated with a particular pair of brass knuckles. There is nothing wrong with using ‘s with inanimate objects.

Forming Plurals
In years past, the apostrophe was commonly used to form plurals of abbreviations and numerals. Hence we had the 1980’s, CPA’s, and mind your p’s and q’s. In recent years, however, this practice has been sharply reduced in occurrence. Today you are much more likely to see 1980s and CPAs. In most cases there is no confusion and it is better to simply follow the standard practice of adding just an s to form the plural. Forming the plural of individual letters, however, is tricky. But capitalizing the letter and adding s usually works, as in mind your Ps and Qs.

It is a good practice to keep the rules pure. Don’t use ‘s to form plurals.