The warmed over edition
In which Ken, pressed for time, rehashes a bunch of short pieces from years ago that you probably haven't read.
Should
When someone says โIโm sorry you should feel that wayโ, theyโre using should in a different way than someone who says โyou should ditch that no-good boyfriend of yoursโ. The latter use is called the mandative should, expressing as it does a command or recommendation. The first also has a name; itโs called the putative should. Putative means supposed or presumed, and the putative mood, used when the speaker doesnโt have direct evidence of something but is inferring it, is common to a number of languages.
The putative mood is a bit player in the English language. The two heavy hitters are the indicative mood, used to make factual statements or pose questions (โYou are upsetโ, โAre you upset?โ); and the imperative mood, which expresses a request or command (โGet your butt over here.โ)
A little further back comes the subjunctive mood, which shows a wish, doubt or something that is not established fact (โIf I were you, Iโd be upset tooโ). The subjunctive may be disappearing from English, and many writers โ and even more speakers โ no longer feel bound by it.
By comparison with all these moods, the putative mood feels a little quaint and antiquated โ and very, very British.
โFor whoโ or โfor whomโ the bell tolls?
Is it bad grammar to say โfor whoโ as opposed to โfor whomโ? Does anyone really care? The answer to the first question is no, itโs not bad grammar, but if you want to speak formally, you may prefer whom. (That puts us in the realm of register or tone, but not grammar. Thatโs my opinion, but plenty of people still say it is a grammatical issue.) The pertinent point, however, is that ultra โcorrectโ use of whom often sounds more stuffy than correct to modern ears. We live in an age that values informality โ which is not to be confused with casualness.
The answer to the second question (โdoes anyone really care?โ) is yes, but theyโre fighting a rearguard action. Accepted usage is just that โ whatโs accepted by most native speakers or writers of a language. You canโt fight City Hall, and nor can you fight the crowd gathered outside โ at least on matters of usage.
That said, whom is unlikely to ever disappear entirely. Imagine the phrase that headlines this article โ penned by John Donne and borrowed by Ernest Hemingway for his novel โ becoming for who the bell tolls. Yikes!
Pardon the interruption
A reader once instructed me to โdo [an article] on interjected words like abso-bloomin-lutely. I heard them being talked about on [tv show] QI recently.โ
This practice, which my reader kindly bowdlerised, is โpopular among young ruffiansโ according to linguist Steven Pinker. You might assume that it is therefore ungrammatical; that is, that it doesnโt conform to rules in the way that โgoodโ English does. But you could hardly be more wrong, by golly.
Where the interjection falls is not up for grabs. You can say abso-bloomin-lutely (or your own version of it), but you canโt say absolut-bloomin-ly. How come? Because the interjection always comes directly before the stressed vowel. I donโt know why โ it just does. (Actually, I think I do know why: after the stress sounds horrible.) Anyway, that rule has every bit as much force as the rule that says verbs must agree with their subject (I run, she runs, etc).
Thatโs why you can say Inver-bloody-cargill, but you canโt say Welling-bloody-ton (much as you may want to on one of those gale-force winter days). The problem? In Wellington, the first vowel is stressed, so thereโs nowhere to insert the expletive. Shame that.
Conan the Bacterium
This is the nickname given by scientists to the bacterium Deionococcus radiodurans, regarded as pretty much the toughest life form yet discovered. You can drop it in acid, freeze it, oxidise it, send it into space and batter it with radiation, and it wonโt bat an eyelid. Rumour has it that the South African rugby team is planning to play it off the bench at the next World Cup.
Plurale tantum
Words that occur only in the plural form, like scissors, trousers and clothes, are called plurale tantum, Latin for plural only. Curiously, though, we talk about such things as a scissor kick (not a scissors kick) and trouser press rather than trousers press. But itโs a clothes peg, not a clothe peg. Go figure.
Earth, the godless planet
Earth is the only planet in the solar system not named after a Greek or Roman god. The reason? Our ancestors, the dumbasses, didnโt realise Earth was a planet. However, the word terra (as in terrestrial, terra firma, etc) does derive from Terra Mater, Roman goddess of the earth.
The greatest typo of all time
Some years ago, a famous English public school was forced to raise tuition fees. A letter was duly sent to parents conveying the unfortunate news that the increase would be ยฃ500 a year. Perhaps even more unfortunately, the typo per anum was overlooked. One parent wrote back, informing the school that โfor my part I would prefer to continue paying through the nose, as usualโ.
Antonyms: Trickier than you might think
You might think that antonyms are pretty straightforward things. If one word is the opposite of another โ which more or less sums up what an antonym is โ then that, surely, is that.
Well, my friend, you underestimate lexicographers. Theyโve organised antonyms into various categories so that ignorant souls like you and me can discover how little we really know.
First up, youโve got your opposites like happy/sad, big/little, winner/Rishi Sunak. Look carefully, and you may notice a particular quality about these pairs; theyโre what lexicographers call gradable antonyms. That is, there are degrees of happiness and sadness, and someone who is only mildly happy may be hard to tell apart from someone who is only slightly sad.
Complementary antonyms, on the other hand, have a black or white quality. Youโre either alive or youโre dead, and being one means youโre not the other. Unless youโre Rishi Sunak.
Converse terms make up our final category, which includes such pairs as over/under, before/after. Stop reading now if you want to figure out for yourself what makes these pairs distinct from others.
Ok, hereโs the answer: theyโre mutually dependent. You canโt have an over without an under, or a before without an after.
All right, brace yourself for another lexi-factoid. Whatโs the opposite of little? Thatโs right, big. Now, whatโs the opposite of large? Did you say small? Most people do. How come you didnโt say little again? After all, large is conceptually the opposite of little, isnโt it?
The point is that the word pairs in which antonyms occur is somewhat arbitrary. We donโt put together large/little as an antonym pair, not because it doesnโt make sense to, but because we just donโt. Nor do we have obvious antonyms for skilful, dexterous, adroit and deft, even though awkward, clumsy, gawky and ungainly are available.
As lexicographical trainspotting goes, you donโt get much more train-spottery than that. Take a bow: you are now, officially, a language geek.
Bits and specious
Reader Hilary Taylor recommended an article mocking the proliferation of infantilising signage last week by Joe Bennett, a man who should be declared one of New Zealandโs national treasures. True to Hilaryโs word, Joe Bennett delivered. Read the article yourself and see.
Iโve been in love with chess since Bobby Fischer challenged Boris Spassky for the world title in 1972. Chess is a strange blend of implacable logic and opportunities for outrageous creativity, and I understand why some people become addicted at the cost of their relationships and career. This Substack article by Sam Kahn nicely captures that obsession.
Quote of the week
I watched the Indy 500, and I was thinking that if they left earlier they wouldn't have to go so fast.
Steven Wright