Spelling rationales – the challenge of writing English, Hebrew and French

 

Learning how to speak a language is intuitive. With a little bit of effort, courage and humility, it is possible to learn how to speak a language without formally studying it. Every child, regardless of intelligence, learns how to speak to one degree or another of skill. By contrast, writing a language is a great challenge for many people. I personally can attest to my complete insecurity regarding the correct spelling of words in English, Hebrew and French. Yet, I admit that the apparent randomness of a spelling system can reflect historical realities or grammar rules, whose challenges can be overcome with modern computer systems.

Let us begin with the most common language of communication (not necessarily first language), English. Both native and non-native speakers have a litany of complaints about inconsistent connections between letters and sounds. A few examples will suffice: through vs tough; know, low vs women; receive vs weigh; and time vs action. For the uninitiated, there is a higher chance to succeed in blackjack than in English spelling. Some people blame Samuel Johnson in 1755 or maybe Robert Cawdrey before him in 1604 for writing the first dictionaries and creating this chaos. Alas, they are not guilty. Distance creates diversity of pronunciation, even today, and, thus, a lack of predictability. In many parts of the world, listeners immediately can tell where a person grew up just by hearing certain sounds or words. In parts of pre-literacy England and to a certain extent today, people did pronounce those words exactly as they were written, especially the guttural sounds, kn and gh. In fact, in one older English manuscript,  the modern word girl is written ghurl, something that an Arabic speaker or a Scot would have no problem saying. Thus, English spelling is really phonetic but only for some people at some time in history. The rest of us have to memorize it somehow.

Time and distance have also affected Hebrew. In theory, every letter in an alphabet represents a different sound. In ancient Hebrew, each letter was pronounced in a manner distinct from each other. However, in modern Hebrew, many, if not most, Israelis do not generally pronounce the following letters in clearly distinct ways: alef א and ayin ע, an a sound; kuf ק and kof כּ, a k sound; sin שׂ and samech ס, an s sound; tof ת and tet ט, a t sound; het ח  and kof כ, a ch sound. True, eastern (mizhahi) Jews, especially Yemenites, have to a certain extent retained the historical pronunciation differences but people generally do not annunciate the distinctions between the letters. As a result, as an immigrant that arrived in Israel as an adult and never studied the language at school, I am uncertain. Which is happiness and which is wealth, אושר [osher] or עושר [o’sher]?. Did I confuse every and voice in כל קול [kol kol]? Did I write that I need time עת or a pen אט, both pronounced [et]? Which is form and which is grab, טפוס [tofes] or תופס [tofes]? The actual key is to know the root of the word, which indicates the correct letter to be used. While it does increase the odds of a correct guess, not every Israeli, not to mention immigrants, feels absolute certainty when writing Hebrew.

As for French, it seems to me that framers of the language chose ease of speaking over simplicity of writing, plausibly using Latin rules of grammar as the excuse. To explain, it is possible to represent the long a sound, as in the a in the word late in English, in 13 different ways (forgive me if I missed a few). The following words all end in a long a: donner, donnez, donné, donnée, donnés, données, donnais, donnait, donnaient, donnerai, les, abeilles, et and forêt. For non-French speakers, the meanings are to give, you give, given (n), given (f), given (pl), given (f. pl), you gave, he gave, they gave, I will give, the, bees, and and forest, respectively. That is one impressive haul of uses for one sound. The price for such efficiency is, of course, the difficulty in knowing how to write the correct form. Since the establishment of universal schooling in France in 1882, generations of French children have had to work hard to master the rules of grammar required to know when the correct tense endings, when to add the silent e and s to the past participle and which letters are the end of a specific noun. The results, then and now, are far from perfect. Actually, I find French spelling relatively easy because I understand these rules. I find it convenient that they are based on grammar, not history.

Those of us that doubt our spelling, rightly or wrongly, and double-check all words can feel a little bit relieved. Like some exes said, it is not you; it is the language. Spelling has its own logic, one that is unconcerned about mere mortals, whether they are native or non-native speakers. Fortunately, word processing, applications and AI have made it quite convenient to identify and fix any embarrassing errors. These tools do not eliminate the need to actually know the language as you still must choose the right word when two words with different meanings sound the same but are spelled differently, e.g., too vs two in English, but at least, we don’t have to look idiots when we write. We don’t have to feel like idiots either since, while there is a rationale to spelling rules in fact, it is one that often makes no sense to us.

Google-eyed translator search – Shocked and uh-ed translation buyers

 

Freelancer marketing has never been a simple task just as finding any proper professional for the first time has always been a bit of a gamble. As an exercise, I “posed” as a translation buyer in my area of specialty – Hebrew-to-English official documents, a marriage certificate in this case – and searched for a service provider using both ChatGPT and Google. While the former provided a reasonable response, the options raised by Google illustrated the irrelevance of the search for translation purchasers and the need to focus marketing for translation providers.

In terms of methodology, I used free ChatGPT and posted the following prompt: “I am looking for a certified Hebrew-English translator to translate a marriage certificate for immigration purposes.” I then added, “I am looking for three freelancers”. Aside from some fairly accurate but somewhat vague background information, which is understandable since my prompt did not include all the relevant information, the AI engine initially provided three agencies and then, following the second prompt, three freelancers. The referred translation agencies and independent translators were all experienced professionals. Thus, GPT did provide an adequate starting point for a search for a translation professional.

By contrast, Google’s output to the same initial question was highly biased. The first page was almost entirely AI-based translation companies. I understand that people pay for top billing but I am not familiar with any government agency that will accept a certified translation of an official document produced by AI. The first human agencies were a few large, low-cost agencies. I am aware that some customers have a limited budget but it seems penny- wise and pound-foolish to skimp on the translation of a document that may make or break an important opportunity. Among the early entries (page 2) was a site for freelancers. It was shocking to see their average prices. Almost all of the more than 20 freelancers on the first two pages posted a rate of 5 USD a page, without defining what a page is. At that price, I would not trust the result as the rate is too good to be true. Thus, faced with a choice of AI, budget agencies and prostituting freelancers, the search was a non-starter.

It would seem that first-time translation buyers seeking a professional translator should take a much more directed approach. The best option may be national association search engines (such as the ATA in the US and ITA in Israel), which allow a full comparison of credentials and demonstrate some measure of professional approach. Service provider recommendation lists may also be relevant, albeit with a grain or two of salt. Of course, traditional personal recommendations are always relevant. Notices in relevant Facebook groups will provide several options. Finally, ChatGPT with more specifics is an ever more relevant path. Clearly, finding an appropriate translation will require some thinking and effort.

This situation should determine how translators market themselves. As AI seeks specifics that make one option more relevant than the others, translators need to include relevant details in as many locations as possible. These factors include languages, qualifications, experience, types of documents and skills. A website is an important but not the sole place to post such information. Furthermore, appearing on reputable translator lists, e.g., national associations and government bodies, enhances the probability that a search will produce one’s name. Of course, additional activities, including lectures, blogs and volunteer work, further enhance one’s presence. Ultimately, word-of-mouth, whether through customers or peers, is the best source of reference, requiring translators to produce quality results regardless of the rate. It is not enough for translators to prove and improve themselves. They need to market those attributes in multiple ways.

God helps those who help themselves. I am not sure that Google is a god even if it does seem to be omniscient and omnipresent. AI is far too naive to be a god but people increasingly treat it as one. Translation providers need to help purchasers find an appropriate option. Keeping on the astral plane, the devil is in the details. Purchasers need to make intelligent decisions while freelancers must provide the information they need to make those decisions. The result can be awe-inspiring, far superior to the uhs produced by simple Google searches and even ChatGPT.

The linguist’s tale – A personal confession of native language interference

 

The sad truth is the 99% of humanity will never sound like a native speaker when they speak a foreign language. We may have a great ear, solid knowledge of grammar and well-developed vocabulary. Yet, some strange turn of the tongue gives us away. The culprit is interference from our native language, tendencies that are so ingrained that they affect every other language we speak. It is similar to those habits learnt from our parents, which we swore we wouldn’t continue when we became adults, but which we have to ultimately accept. I will demonstrate by recounting my misdoings when I speak Russian, French and Hebrew, habits that I wish I could eliminate but never will. All that is left is accepting imperfection.

Russian involves a completely different form of thinking and construction. I have managed to grasp most of its peculiarities. Case declensions are a matter of memorization and practice. Putting a noun in the singular after any number that ends in the number 1, including 1,000,001, has its peculiar logic but still carries a rational rationale. Practice helps hone the differences between the imperfective and perfective verb forms, which reflect, as a rule, incomplete and complete actions, respectively. However, placing adjectival phrases before the noun they describe is beyond the ability of my brain to apply. To demonstrate, the English sentence “The dog sitting on the table enjoys vegetables roasted in the fire.” comes out in Russian “The sitting on the table dog enjoys roasted in the fire vegetables. This structure is too alien for me to apply consistently. Thus, I will always sound like an alien, a foreigner, when speaking Russian.

French is much more similar to English but also has its intricacies. A little practice helps a student master the subjunctive. Furthermore, my plus que parfait is almost better than perfect. After an insightful webinar by Grace Shalhoub, I even feel confident when I need to adjust the past participle to agree with the gender and number of the preceding direct object, not as simple as it may sound. However, regarding gender, here I fail. I cannot and have never been able to remember the rules for knowing whether the noun is masculine or feminine. Aside from the “tion” class of nouns, which are all feminine, I can find no rhyme or reason. Thus, I have always double-checked every noun to be sure. I do not trust my intuition or my ear, only the dictionary. It is my cross to bear in French.

Hebrew is my daily language. I enjoy a rich vocabulary and an intuitive sense of how to choose the proper verb category from the root. Thus, I can read awful Hebrew legalese and can apply the rules to form the right verb from a root even if I don’t formally grasp the rule. My downfall is cultural. In Hebrew, the verb form changes depending on whether the grammatical subject is male or female (as well as singular and plural). This manipulation occurs in 1^st, 2^nd and 3^rd persons. In simple words, the verb takes on a different form when a woman talks is or is talked about. As I have spent most of my life surrounded by females, e.g., spouse, daughter and colleagues, I tend to use the feminine form at all times, especially when I am tired and my brain is dragging. It sounds quite strange to refer to a male using the feminine form. In my defense, many foreigners make the same error. I understand that the cause of this error is the lack of such distinction in English. People forgive me because I am a foreigner but I am almost as embarrassed as my wife is when I make this error. I will continue to strive to reduce the error but it is impossible to eliminate.

This is my slightly tragic but mostly humorous tale about sounding like a foreigner. I know that I am not alone. The vast majority of people drag some feature of their native language into their adopted language. It is not a sin. However, as Tevye sang in Fiddler on the Roof, it is no great honor either. As humans are no more perfect in other parts of their lives, we have to accept our linguistic warts just as we need to come to peace with our other imperfections. To paraphrase Shakespeare, it is better to have spoken and erred than never have spoken at all.

On time and timelessness – the Historical Dictionary

 

This last week, the Israel Translators Association organized a fascinating online lecture on the historical dictionary in Israel. For those unfamiliar with the term, this type of dictionary documents the meaning, use and spelling of words throughout history, using both handwritten and printed texts. As the Hebrew language is one of the most ancient tongues, its history is especially rich and varied. From the points raised by Ayelet Harel, the presenter and a former researcher at the National Dictionary, it was clear that despite its historical focus, the work was intended for the present and future as evidenced by the choice of technology and its intended use. Furthermore, the results of this work clearly demonstrate that the opus will never end and its approach also applies to all languages.

It was quite remarkable that the organizing founders of the dictionary immediately considered the future. From the start in the 1950s, they have chose to use the most advanced digital methods available to record the texts intended to be analyzed in the future. These methods included, at various times, punch cards, and CDs and now involve direct online search. Keeping in mind the complex, costly, and time-consuming nature of advanced digital records at any time but especially in the past, the decision shows the importance placed on long-term thinking. In the same vein, current researchers, often two or more staff members, do not use AI so as to ensure that the final result accurately reflects the use of any term in the text.

Likewise, in its approach, the project took the long-term approach and began by creating a corpus of texts in Hebrew throughout the history of written Hebrew. Early texts, through the invention of the printing press, are often have illegible or unclear. The compilers took care to reflect and note this ambiguity in the material entered into the databank. It also chose to enter a wide variety of texts in order to provide a sufficient basis to identify the development of the Hebrew language over its history.  Researchers then carefully examined the meaning of and spelling of each Hebrew word in a given text, comparing it to the concordance. Today, a researcher or simply any curious person can go to the dictionary site and view the history of any given word from the Bible to today. The slow and steady approach has created a treasure of knowledge for future generations.

Given the nature of language, this tracking of language will always be relevant because language development is a never-ending process. Every generation selectively modifies the use and even spelling of the words. For example, in English, the “gay 90’s” referred to the optimistic time before the 20^th century (alas, not realized), not a trend in sexual relationships. In terms of spelling, people consider “shoppe” rather quaint while few people today get upset with “thru”. As languages are dynamic, tracking their changes will always be timely.

Clearly, the Hebrew historical dictionary is neither the only nor even first such project. Most languages have etymological sources and keep digital records of their language. While for some, the view of the past may seem a useless and merely an intellectual pursuit, like all history, language paints a picture of the world that was, elucidates the world that is and provides an indication of the world that will be. The historical dictionary is both of timely and timeless value.

Rebranding or nostalgia ain’t what it used to be

 

This last week, linguists celebrated International Translation Day. Many translator organizations and sites marked the occasion, notably Proz.com, which featured two days of lectures and discussions on the state of the profession. Of course, the speakers mentioned AI numerous times, often in the context of how it impacts the profession. Most importantly, the various speakers analyzed the different ways that translators can continue to make a living given an uncertain future that will definitely include AI. One sentence struck a strong chord: whatever you do, do what you love because your passion affects the quality, which is the most important advantage human translators can have over AI. Furthermore, one lecturer noted there will always be a need for expert translators in specialist fields even with improved AI. In that light, I understand that I need to react to the changes in the market in my over 22 years of translation before it is too late. Unfortunately, I do not receive much pleasure when editing or using AI. Thus, I have decided to embrace my experience, drop my other areas of translation and specialize in one field, specifically Hebrew to English legal translation, as it provides the base for my future in all respects.

When I first started translation in 2004, I knew little of my skills or the translation world and chose to cast a wide net. I started my journey by preparing an inventory of my knowledge, specifically four languages, specifically English, Hebrew, French and Russian, and two areas of knowledge, law and finance. Small translation agencies dominated the market at the time. Thus, it seemed logical to create a multilingual brand with several specializations to catch the most fish. I did not know enough to identify any specific target markets and thus created, in effect, a more general brand.

The market had changed radically since then, primarily due to technology and conglomeration. AI and machine translation of all types have eliminated many market niches, including email and personal translation. At the same time, the same technology has created a strong demand for machine translation post editing (MTPE). On an organizational level, large international corporations have gobbled up one small agency after another, creating large volume, low-cost translation venues at the expense of translator rates. At the same time, it should be noted that many well-paying niches not only exist but are thriving, notably legal, medical, marketing and transcreation, which provide ample opportunity for qualified linguists.

As I considered my future (Yom Kippur is an ideal day for doing that), I finally understood that my initial approach, however relevant it was at the time, is no longer effective. I am now choosing to formally embrace the field I enjoy the most, work most efficiently and am most proficient at [Winston Churchill said it was proper to end a sentence with a preposition]. I will solely focus on Hebrew- to-English legal translation, which is mainly what I have been doing for some 10 years now. I have studied legal writing, especially Plain English. Moreover, I am not only quite efficient in translating and editing legal translation but am more proficient at them than many other translators. Thus, as far as anybody can foresee the future, I feel my career has a solid basis.

Giving up the past is never easy. For that reason, people hold on to objects that no longer have any practical value. I still enjoy reading and speaking French. As for Russian, it is quite a useful language in Israel. I may choose to take on a small appropriate task in those languages. However, there is no feeling like doing a task very well especially if it is something that you enjoy. As for the price of rebranding, it requires redoing my marketing approach but better late than never. It may be fun to look back from time to time but success requires forward-looking.

Exotic or alien – when does a foreign word remain a stranger

 

All speakers and writers choose their words. Linguists, including authors, editors and translators, may invest more time and energy in this choice but even the most basic user seeks the best term in terms of register, connotation and impact. Essentially, the chosen word must sound right, which is a matter of accustomed sound. Words with unusual phonetic signatures sound strange. However, in terms of word choice, as there are no “pure” nations in terms of racial background, there are no pure languages in terms of roots. An exchange of words occurs anytime one culture meets another. In some cases, the words become an integral part of the language and lose their foreignness. In other cases, people use these words despite their non-local origin because there is no substitute in the original language. However. in many cases, speakers of different generations and points of view may disagree whether a given verbal immigrant has any raison d’être as there exists a highly adequate term. The processs never ends.

Some foreign words have been a part of a language for so long that they have become native. For example, in Russian, the word for beach, пляж [plajh], comes from the French plage while the term for a train station вокзал [vokzal] is derived from the English Vauxhall, the name on the first locomotive in Russia (from St. Petersburg to the Tsar’s village). This use of Western terminology does not bother the most nationalistic Russian. Likewise, an insulated American has no problem calling a nice sidewalk eatery a café, as distinguished by its poorer cousin, the coffee shop. New York brokers, Jewish or not, often consult a maven, a word derived from Yiddish and Hebrew, if they need an expert opinion. In Israel, Jews whose family came from Tunisia or Ethiopia use the words קיוסק, kiosk, and צ'ופצ'יק [chupchik], a whatchamacallit, whose origins are in distant Russia, without batting an eyelash. These words have become a basic part of the language.

Other foreign words still sound like immigrants but the language needs them. For example, a party can be fancy or posh but the French chic adds another dimension to the description. For describing a corrupt military dictatorship, there is no better word in English than junta, Spanish in sound and origin, and so succinct. In France, the left-wing parties are now considering holding les primaires, a gem taken from the Anglo-Saxon tradition of primaries and a relatively recent development in French politics. Hebrew is an active borrower of English terms to describe concepts that its limited root system struggles to cope with. For example, business people use the word אֵפֶקְטִיבִי [effectivi] [effective] to emphasize one aspect of the Hebrew word יָעִיל [yail], which encompasses both effectiveness and efficiency. Many Israelis have become quite skilled in terms of their ability לנרמל [lenormel], to normalize, the current situation. Languages must keep up with the times. Sometimes, it is easier to copy than to invent a word.

Nevertheless, foreign adoption can go too far, at least in some people’s eyes. The average American or Brit, depending on socio-economic background, may find it pretentious if a person said a pied-á-terre for a vacation home or “what do you think of my new coif” instead “How’s the haircut?”. The average French may have seemed to accept “le weekend”” and “le shopping” but French intellectuals and writers are far from happy with such terms, especially when the French terms are perfectly sufficient. As for Hebrew, many Israelis cringe when chefs say “crispy” instead of פריך [parich}. Even worse, in the ears of many lovers of the Holy language is the adoption of לקחת חלק [lakahat helek], the literal translation of the English take part, instead of the solid Hebrew word להשתתף [lehishtatef]. Many people believe that speakers should be proud of their language (regardless if so many of its words are derived from foreign roots).

The use of foreign words is a matter of both ideology and usefulness. Clearly, no language academy can determine which foreign word will go native and which will always be a stranger. However, the introduction of foreign words is one of the basic tools for intrinsic language development and occurs quite naturally. The answer to the question whether using a foreign word is chic or a faux pas is subjective by definition, as all language users, including translators, know.

Words and their derived meanings – how far does a ball roll in different languages?

[Effy the kitten with ball*)

 

If we look at the idea of a word, it is fundamentally a concept that human beings apply to various objects, real and theoretical. The Chinese language is the perfect embodiment of this vocabulary building approach but the process also occurs in alphabetical languages. For example, a round object is called a ball, balle, шар [shar] and כדור [kadur] in English, French, Russian and Hebrew, respectively. While each refers to the ball that is the fascination of children, puppies and kittens (especially mine currently), the word also is used for many other round objects with slight differences.

While the origin of the word ball in English is rather fuzzy, its primary meaning is quite clearly, i.e., according to the Oxford Dictionary, a solid or hollow spherical or egg-shaped object that is kicked, thrown, or hit in a game. Clearly, a really heavy one that requires explosive power to launch is a cannon ball, not an object to play with. On a smaller basis, balls can be loaded into cartridges and cause terrible casualties. For that matter, a great ball of fire is also rather threatening. On a less serious note,  ball in baseball can mean that the pitch fails to cross the plate between the knees and numbers of a player and within the side boundaries of the home plate. Not surprisingly but quite differently, testicles are sometimes referred to as balls., This may explain the application of the word to describe the willingness to take a great risk as in the sentence General MacArthur had the balls to land at Inchon. Confusingly, derived from a completely different root, a ball is a formal dance from which probably the term having a ball, i.e., having a good time, may have been derived, although my forementioned kitten might disagree.

The French balle also is generally used to refer to the toy as in the short form of ballon. However, it refers to pills, which are round, and bullets and slugs, which generally are not. In the days of the French Franc (pre-Euro), it was another term for that national currency. In agriculture, a balle refers to a bale in English and  applies to any similar bulky packaging, round or not.

Russian is even more generous is the use. шар [shar] refers to the toy but also to a globe and bowl and other round objects. In the plural, it is another term for eyes. It is used as a term for a lightbulb. Russian even uses it for a vote or ballet. (If a language refers to communication tower as an “object”, everything is possible).

Hebrew almost equates ball and round in the word כדור [kadur]. Sports equipment, pills and tablets and well as spheres and planets are balls. In line with the old traditional ammunition, so is ammunition for rifles and machine guns (despite their modern long shape).

So, as true for many languages, words evolve to expand their meaning to directly and not-so directly connected items and sometimes retain the use when the original shape of the object changes.  Balls really roll far away sometimes.

* Picture captions help the blind fully access the Internet.

Spelling out the differences – Thoughts on why most of us do not pronounce the word exactly as it is written

 

[frustrated Spock*]

One of the claims to fame of Esperanto is that the learners can pronounce words as they see them. As the exception proves the rule, almost all alphabet-based languages exhibit a marked difference between the letters on the paper (or screen) and how the speaker says the word. This linguistic schizophrenia often serves a purpose but more often derives from the fact that written script is snapshot from a given, often distant, time and place and rarely updated to another time and place. Thus, students, both native and non-native speakers, must do as all previous generations do, i.e. learn by heart how to spell the words.

One notable complication of spelling is the multiple manners of expressing the same vowel sound but this redundancy serves a practical purpose. Latin languages in particular use verb endings that sound the same but are written differently. For example, French speakers pronounce é, er, ez, ai, ais, ait and aient exactly the same. Thus, touché, toucher, touchez, touchai, touchais, touchait and touchaient sound alike despite their spelling differences. While this may seem confusing to listeners, mix-ups are rare due to the human ability to apply context. On the other hand, these multiple spelling allow French and similar languages to get more kilometers to the liter for its sounds; due to limited number of phonemes available to Latin languages (as compared to Arabic most notably), having numerous ways of writing them significantly adds to the number of possible visually distinct words. Thus, while such a tendency does add difficulty to learning spelling, it also enriches the vocabulary.

Yet, in most cases, it is the actual process of determining the official spelling that creates the mismatch between the oral and written form. Clearly, pronunciation is a dynamic process specific to a given place and time. It is true that people tend to speak like their family and surrounding neighborhood when they were growing up. My Fair Lady very musically portrayed that phenomenon. Their children may pronounce the same word differently if they move elsewhere or another form becomes fashionable By contrast, at some time or another, somebody writes a dictionary, which establishes the “approved” spelling. At the moment of writing, the composer writes the words exactly as s/he says it or, at best, most people in that area. The spelling is phonetic for that time and place. Thus, in parts of England, then and now, the sentence “the girl went through tough times, I thought” would include 4 guttural g’s, specifically girl, through, tough and thought. Alas, the vast majority of English speakers today would pronounce the each of those consonants a bit differently but the damage is done. There is no choice but to memorize the spelling.

In some cases, such as Hebrew, the actual ability to distinguish a sound from a similar but not identical one has disappeared or is disappearing. Hebrew has two related vowels א, alef, which is pronounced [a] and ע, ayin, which is pronounced [a’] (as in when the doctor checks your tonsils. Furthermore, there are two forms of the sound t, ט, tet, [t] and ת taf [t’], which resembles a soft th historically. Unfortunately, many if not most Israelis do not clearly pronounce the ayin, blurring the distinction. As for the “t” situation, aside from religious Ashenazi Jews who received formal training in biblical Hebrew and Arabic speakers, modern Hebrew speakers make no distinction. See the modern Hebrew Shabbat as compared to the Yiddish shabbas or English sabbath. To take an extreme example, in Hebrew, את ,אט, עת and עט all are generally pronounced the same, [et], but mean moment, slow, a particle to signal a direct object and pen, respectively. In some cases, speakers actually say the letter to make sure of the meaning as in אושר ועושר, [osher v’ o’sher], happiness and wealth, adding “with an ayin” for the second one. Once again, the spelling reflects a reality that barely or no longer exists.

Some languages have managed to clean up their spelling act to a certain degree. The Russian government after the 1918 revolution reformed the language and eliminated numerous historical legacies. The post-revolution version of War and Peace is several pages shorter as compared to the 19^th century edition. The Turkish government in 1928 changed the alphabet, which provided a clean slate for the spelling. Even in English, the distant colonies, notably the United States and Australia often took the liberty of removing the silent and meaningless letters. Some examples include thru instead of through, honor instead of honor and shop instead of shoppe. As there is no official academy of the English languages, such efforts will always be local and limited, unfortunately for learners of English. Comprehensive language reforms are few and far between.

The legacies of the past define a language’s spelling system and lag far behind the changes in actual pronunciation. While sometimes a linguistic factor may justify the gap between the oral and written forms, in most cases, learners have no choice but to depend on their memory and, in these modern days, some kind of digital spellcheck. For me, complaining about illogical spelling reminds me of complaining about the weather. It is an entertaining  topic for a few minutes but, ultimately, people adjust to it. Spelling is what it is, often locally illogical.

* Picture captions help the blind fully access the Internet.

Picture credit - Pixabay

Names of seasons – A linguistically dynamic spectrum

 

[pomegranates and grapefruits*]

All civilizations and, therefore, all languages label their seasons in one way or another. In practice, there are multiple approaches to this nomenclature, which can change over time and distance. To illustrate the spectrum of views on the seasons, I will present how English, French and Hebrew have related to the times of the year. Agriculture is often the key factor in this process.

In English, as in many languages, the spring is literally the beginning, whether of water or plants. It is the time they spring up, the start of the year for farmers. By contrast, summer is derived from the ancient word for year. I can postulate that the summer defines the year in terms of crops, i.e., if the fields produced in plenty, there was plenty to eat. By contrast, the autumn, a term more often used in the UK, signified the passing the year at which end the fields were bare, more or less. The American fall emphasizes the obvious physical aspect of the season, specifically the falling of the leaves. As for the winter, it was the wet season, literally.

As typical of Franco-British relations, the French view this situation differently. Le printemps literally means “first time”, which would imply that the world is born anew. L’été relates to burning, presumably to the effects of the sun. L’automne is the time for enriching, especially for the farmers as it harvest time for many crops. Finally, l’hiver is the rainy season, a variation of the wet theme.

Hebrew, a far more ancient language evolving in a far drier region, has a long and complicated story in regard to the seasons. Originally, there were two seasons, the fig harvesting season קיץ [keitz] and the wet, סתיו [stav], a bit like the same nomenclature in many countries in the equatorial regions but without the figs. At some point, writers referred to the season in terms of the name of their first month, i.e., תשרי [tishrei], טבת [tivet], ניסן [nisan] and תמוז [tamuz], starting from the autumn. The terms eventually evolved to identify  a separate spring season, אביב [aviv], which relates to young plants. Furthermore, Hebrew speakers began to use the word חורף [horef], which refers to picking fruit, for winter, another sign of how moderate the climate is in the eastern Mediterranean. The previously mentioned סתיו [stav], the rainy season, now was limited to the fall. On another level, the year was once defined from the spring to spring but the new year changed to the month of  תשרי [tishrei] in the fall. In Hebrew, the seasons do also change linguistically.

These are just a small sample of how cultures and languages relate to seasons. It is clear that weather and agriculture, the most basic of all industries, strongly influence the specific choice of words but climate also has an effect. In any case, there is no unilateral way to describe a season. Seasons" greetings.

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Stupid lexicon analysis or the art of insulting someone’s intelligence

 

[bunny*]

Vocabulary development among languages is neither evenly distributed or uniform. Yet, people around the world appreciate the art of a good insult, especially of another person’s intelligence. Simply put, calling someone stupid or an idiot or whatever the word in the local language, simply does not cut it. The audience, if not the victim, expects creativity and style. In practice, the approaches to questioning other people’s intellectual ability primarily involve making remarks about the material between their ears, the ability to process information, medical conditions and any resemblance to somethng or someone considered unintelligent as well as a few wonderful lexiconic inventions. I will provide a small sample of such terms from English, French and Hebrew as well as present my favorites.

A common way of explaining stupidity is speculating on the lack of grey matter between the ears. In English, it may appear that the interlocker is a blockhead , meathead or dope, a thick soup in Dutch. If we believe there is nothing, an airhead is appropriate. If we know that there is something but its nature is unclear, nitwit, an older word for a drink with unidentified ingredients, can apply.  Possibly, the person may be just dense, i.e., too solid for the brain to function. The French seem to focus less on this aspect. Cul (ass) implies that an error occurred in anatomical placement while cloche, a clock, applies a hard outside but hollow inside. Modern Hebrew, despite its relatively young age, places such materials as floor tiles, cabbage and sweet potatoes between the ears as in the expressions ראש בלטה [rosh balata], ראש כרוב [rosh kruv] and ראש בטטה [rosh bottata], respectively. Of course, it the head is filled with beech wood בוק [bok], thoughts also do not come easily. All these are material insults.

Sometimes, the problems appears to be how the information is actually processed. If a person is dull, half-witted or simpleminded, thinking is not an easy task. Nitwit, a word actually derived from Yiddish, a language particularly rich in insults, implies no ability at all. The French consider being heavy, balourd, blocked, bouché, and off-angle, obtuse, excellent causes of stupidity. In Israel, having a room that is sealed off is a positive feature during a war but having a brain that is אטום [atum] is a definite handicap. For such people, even when there is a will, there is no way.

Of course, medical conditions do affect mental activity. Despite the fact most people cannot identify such conditions and, even if they do exist, they are not the fault of the person, off-handed diagnosis makes for great insults. Calling someone retarded may be true statement but not in most instances.  The French use of the word crétin technically refers to chronic iodine deficiency, a rare condition today.  As for sanity, the words sot and abruti cast doubts about the mental stability of the individual. The Hebrew curse פוסטמה [pustema] comes from a word for pus, whatever the connection is. טוםטום [tumtum] is a term to describe ambiguous physical sexual identify. which may or may not be obvious to the casual observer. On occasions, anybody can become a doctor.

Of course, metaphors are both direct and creative. Somehow, Anglo-Saxons think birds are not very intelligent, which may explain the term birdbrain. (The raptors of the world may be angry at this comparison). For that matter, asses, the animal, are very adept at surviving unlike humans accused of being like them. The French compare idiots to both animals, bêta, and lower-class people, rustre, agricultural workers with low intelligence. Hebrew sources comparisons come from all period of the history of the Jews.  אוויל [avvil] is simpleton in the Bible;  גולם [golem] is a unfinished Frankenstein-like creature from medieval myths; and דפר [dapar] is one of the initial psychotechnics tests that the IDF gives to new recruits. Apparently, a very low grade implies stupidity. These metaphorical comparisons can be very nasty.

As for my top three choices, picked on the basis of creativity and sheer weirdness. In English, I now appreciate dunce for its amazing history. Originally, people considered the 13th century theologian John Duns Scotus and his followers very intelligent but rudely rejected them their approach several centuries later, regarding them and their hats look as quite stupid. The French duconneau literally means from Conneau. Apparently, somebody was not very bright in that family or area. Finally, in Hebrew, in a TV commercial, one of the banks used the expression לא עיפרון חכי חד בקלמר [lo ha’iparon hachi chad b’kalmar], meaning not the sharpest pencil in the pencil box. Now, that’s a witty insult.

Please be assured that I never use such terms directly to a person as I am very polite but in the privacy of our own brain, we can think what we want. As Pascal said, man (and woman) are thinking reeds. He did not discuss how much critical thoughts dominate. The fact is that human beings love to criticize other people, especially their intelligence. One of the beauties of human thought is the level of creativity and innovation we apply in doing it. Insulting is an art.

 

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Language nonsense – phrases from a foreign point of view

 

[the Mad Hatter*]

People make language but don’t necessarily understand it. In other words, native speakers use phrases to signify a certain meaning even if the literal meaning of the words is not in alignment, never even noticing the contradiction. Foreigners, struggling to understand the language, then ask “why” questions, to which native speakers have no logical answer besides “because”. This phenomenon is not limited to English but applies to all human languages.

English is filled with strange phrases whose parts do not equal their sum. Why do slow up and slow down mean the same? Should the verb slow function like the volume button on a keyboard, i.e. more slow and less slow? Likewise, I cannot explain why a person drives a car on a parkway but parks a car on a driveway. This is extremely illogical, as Spock would say. Finally, consider the expression never mind. The word mind means “pay attention” as the phrase at rail stations mind your distance. However, I cannot grasp where the never came from. We use this phrase to express dismissal of a comment or event, similar to forget it. However, if I never mind anything, I would never get upset or listen to anything or anybody, which is not the essence of the expression. Thus, when asked by students about these and similar expression, my only answer is “never mind”.

Other languages are no less guilty of sloppy constructions. The French dis donc, literally means “say then”, but actually means “wow” or “what are you saying”.  As an example, if someone experienced an extraordinary event, the listening might say "dis donc". The Hebrew  שים לב [seem lev] means pay attention and is a common phrase in both writing and street signs. Yet, it consists of two words, put and heart, which, put together, do not reflect the use of the term. Similarly in Russian, the answer да нет наверное [da nyet navernoe] consists of three words: yes, no, maybe. In practice, it means I refuse but I have doubt[example credit]. These are merely three examples of myriads of accepted insanity in language.

Lewis Carroll and Dr. Seuss touched on this issue with their famous quotes about meaning and saying. Apparently, if native speakers understand each other, there is no need for strictly logical language. As for foreigners, these expressions are just another element of mastering a foreign language. In practice, nobody is going to change a language just to make it logical.

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