Language Lore

In contemporary speech on both sides of the Atlantic the word ‘mentor’ is typically pronounced with a full second vowel despite the fact that the meaning is agentive and, therefore, should be pronounced with a reduced second vowel (as in the agentive suffix -er). The spelling may have something to do with it, but the more persuasive reason resides in the word’s structure, viz. the lack of a morphological boundary between ment- and -or. Which is to say that speakers do not interpret the word as a true agentive despite its obvious meaning.

MICHAEL SHAPIRO

Readers of this blog might be interested in knowing that Y-H-B’s new book, The Logic of Language: A Semiotic Study of Speech, has just been published by Springer Nature in an ebook, with a hard cover version to become available next month. Here is the Preface:
PREFACE
This book is intended as a companion volume to one of my most recent books, The Speaking Self: Language Lore and English Usage (2nd ed., 2017), which incorporates revised versions of posts on my blog, www.languagelore.net. It is hoped that this new volume will serve as a basis for the exploration of language in a more systematic way. A college instructor wishing to use it among recommended readings may consider assigning excerpts from The Speaking Self by way of exemplification of basic points and approaches to analysis. I believe that the two volumes used in tandem will provide a solid grounding in the observational science of linguistics, linking theory with practice in a way that will expand a student’s understanding of language as a global phenomenon.

My own conception of language is tinctured by my polyglot background and by my more than half-century experience as a research scholar and college teacher. I was born in Yokohama (Japan) before World War II and grew up speaking three languages simultaneously, Russian, Japanese, and English, in a family of Russian-Jewish émigrés who spent twenty-five years in Japan. My parents’ habitual languages were Russian, English, German, French, and Japanese, all of which they spoke fluently. Although my mother tongue is Russian, almost all my formal education was in schools in which English was the language of instruction. Having spent the war years in Japan, I immigrated to Los Angeles at the age of twelve and attended high school, college, and graduate school in America. The only exception was a postdoctoral year (1965-66) spent at Tokyo University, where I brushed up on my written Japanese and did some research on the contemporary language. After that I specialized in Slavic linguistics and poetics, in the first instance, and in semiotics (the theory of signs) thereafter, applying the whole philosophy of the American logician and scientist, Charles Sanders Peirce (1839-1914), as a framework for the analysis of language and literature.

Readers who are familiar with the history of linguistics in the twentieth century will recognize that the title of this book has been influenced by my namesake Edward Sapir’s classic book Language: An Introduction to the Study of Speech (1921)––with two important modifications: the insertion of the words Logic and Semiotic. Here the reason may not be clear. It is in fact a nod in C. S. Peirce’s direction, whose conception of logic as a normative science amounts to regarding it as a theory of knowledge. The phrase ‘logic of language’ is, therefore, meant to show how I conceive the patterned relationships constituting the structure and history of language. The analyses of linguistic phenomena offered in this book will accordingly strive to make this conception clear in all of language’s aspects, but most notably in its variegated uses as the instrument of thought and speaking.

This book also systematically examines the facts of language as a semiotic structure––as a system of signs–– and as the passkey to all other human sign systems. By surveying the several major divisions of language (phonology, morphology, syntax, lexis, tropology) and explicating the way in which sound and meaning cohere in them, the book will give readers an understanding of what makes language the sign system par excellence in the service of its most important function as the instrument of cognition and of communication.

I have also followed Sapir in keeping the technical paraphernalia of contemporary linguistic description to a minimum, without, however, utterly eschewing (as does Sapir) diacritics and other symbols needed for a thorough discussion of linguistic phenomena. Most of the examples in the book are from English, although a sprinkling from other languages will be cited when appropriate. References to “Further Reading” will be supplied where needed at the close of each chapter for students wishing to pursue the subject in greater detail. This obviates the need for footnotes, which means that any controversies surrounding the examples discussed are silently elided in the interests of clarity and coherence of presentation.

Apropos, and given the dauntingly balkanized state of linguistics as a discipline today, it may be useful for readers to be given some clues in advance regarding the theoretical outlook that has influenced me in shaping my book’s orientation. Some biographical data are germane in this respect. I started my serious study of linguistics at the University of California, Los Angeles, under the tutelage of the late Anglicist Robert P. Stockwell (1925-2012), the best classroom teacher I ever had, bar none, who introduced me to the methods of American structural linguistics in his year-long course on the structure and history of English. I followed this by study at Harvard under Roman Jakobson (1896-1982), one of the founders of the Prague School of linguistic theory and arguably the most important linguist of the twentieth century, who directed my doctoral dissertation. Whatever else it may be, I consider my way of doing linguistics to be Jakobsonian at its root (even though he and I fell out publicly before we reconciled at the end of his life).

Perhaps an even more profound and lasting influence on my conception of linguistic analysis has been the work of the Slavic linguist Henning Andersen, who was my fellow-student at Harvard in the early 1960s. Although Jakobson is widely recognized as the first person to reveal the importance of Peirce for linguists, it was actually Andersen who pointed me in the direction of Peirce as the modern founder of sign theory whose semeiotic insights (I use the spelling semeiotic advisedly) I should explore in my investigations of linguistic theory. Despite the absence among his prolific oeuvre of a synoptic book summarizing his conception of language, Andersen’s own work over many years, principally in Slavic historical linguistics, has had an indelible influence on my thinking about language and on the conduct of my own investigations. When it comes to meticulousness and analytical acuity, Andersen has no peers among contemporary linguists and surpasses even our teacher’s accomplishments in this regard.

Among other Slavists I also want to single out Nils B. Thelin, a Swedish scholar of the first rank, who was among the first of my friends to urge that I undertake this project. Nils, a linguist of great scope and significant accomplishments, has been a lifelong friend and a strong supporter of my work over many years. My debt to him goes far beyond scholarship and encompasses the emotional encouragement crucial to the writing of a book of this ambitious scope.

When it comes to Peirce scholarship, my understanding of Peirce’s whole philosophy has been influenced by the work of Thomas L. Short, whom I consider the founder of American pragmatism’s most astute contemporary interpreter. Since our first correspondence forty years ago, I have been a careful reader of Short’s published work, so that my account of Peirce’s semeiotic here and in my earlier books (1983, 1991) owes a fundamental debt to his probing analyses.

Finally, I would like to acknowledge the influence on my understanding of language as a product of history of my friend and former colleague at UCLA, Raimo Anttila, whose book Historical and Comparative Linguistics, with its semiotic orientation, remains the best introduction to the field and has been a beacon for me over the many years that its author and I have been friends.

This book is dedicated to the loving memory of my wife, Marianne Shapiro.

MICHAEL SHAPIRO

Manchester Center, Vermont
April 14, 2022

As has been mentioned in earlier posts, one word that can be heard emanating from the mouths of younger speakers of American English is ‘awesome’, uttered in complete disharmony from the speech context. Y-H-B was reminded of this peculiarity in my interactions recently with a young man at an Apple store in Manhattan, whose response to any utterance of mine was “awesome.”
Besides being an instance of anosognosia, this widespread speech tic (which is what it is) is underlain by a total ignorance and awareness of the word’s original meaning (‘inspiring awe’). Why just this word has come to assume its current status among the young is unclear.

MICHAEL SHAPIRO

In an earlier post on this blog (from 2009), Y-H-B pointed out the increasing tendency in English speech and writing on both sides of the Atlantic to mistakenly substitute the word “final” for the the traditional and normative “last” in the phrase “the last straw.” This speech error has penetrated even scholarly writing, as I witnessed today in rereading a book on Tchaikovsky by a British author, John Suchet, who uses “final” instead of the traditional “last” more than once.
This mistake is an illustration not only of hypertrophy (v. my earler post) but of lack of historical knowledge. The complete phrase is “the straw that broke the camel’s back” which comes from an old Arab fable.

MICHAEL SHAPIRO

In the last decade (or longer) the preposition around has come to serve in media language as an all-purpose word instead of words and phrases such as “with regard to,“ “concerning,” and “regarding.” The object of around  can be any word or phrase, which makes this preposition ubiquitous. Why it has taken English so long in its history to elevate around to all-purpose utility is just one of those ever-lurking mysteries of language use.

MICHAEL SHAPIRO

Since this blog deals mainly with facts of current American speech, Y-H-B has refrained from expatiating on theoretical matters. However, recently the opportunity for me to teach a course on theory at a Vermont institution (nomina sunt odiosa) has loomed on the horizon (hopefully, despite the rampant ageism that has presented an insuperable barrier to my resuming my college teraching career). I will, therefore, share with readers a course description that will give them an idea of what the thinking behind this blog has been, as follows.

A COURSE ON INTERPRETATION

            This course is inspired by the life and work of Charles Sanders Peirce (1839-1914), widely acknowledged as an American Renaissance man, our country’s greatest thinker, and the only native son who ranks among the world’s great philosophers. It is distinguished by its interdisciplinary scope and its orientation towards Peirce’s theory of signs (what he called the semeiotic, following Locke), which offers the hope that it may reveal and also foster links of method and of aim among the “three worlds”––the natural sciences, the social sciences, and the humanities (including here the academic disciplines, criticism, and the creative arts). Peirce’s whole philosophy, of which his theory of signs is the centerpiece, is an immense synthesis of the key ideas of modern science with the classical logical paradigm that traces its origins from Aristotle through the Stoics, Locke, and Kant. Peirce’s great achievement is the addition of the theory of interpretation. The course’s significance, therefore, derives in part from its focus on interpretation as the key to understanding the foundations of the separate disciplines.
The purpose of the course is to introduce students to a common language that has the power to underwrite modern interdisciplinary studies––in this century and beyond. Peirce’s theory of interpretation, which is at the heart of his semeiotic, treats ideas as integral to the “reality” of human experience, whether the data are derived from observation of the natural world, the earth and the heavens, or people and societies.
Science adds to our knowledge, advancing from the known to the unknown, by a coordinate use of both abductive (hypothetical) and inductive inference, both by the recognition of similarities and the shock of contrast and opposition. Peirce’s conception of the interpretant as a law or rule, invariably instantiated in individual signs, is his most radical advance and provides a systematic understanding of the way this coordination does its work.
The course will draw upon various theoretical and methodological perspectives: the study of behavior and of the structural generalities that bind individuals and groups typologically and historically; the study of ideology or of a culture’s representation of itself in its visual and verbal forms; and the study of the articulation of meaning, wherever it might be situated, whether in scientific analysis or in humanistic discourse. Each of these approaches and emphases offers important insights into the role of interpretation in defining the foundations of the various disciplines in their interconnections.
The centrality of interpretation will be brought out by pursuing three themes, which have been chosen to give students of diverse backgrounds and interests a feeling for the kind of synthesis that a coherent interdisciplinary perspective can provide. The themes, in order of presentation during the semester’s work, together with their associated issues, are as follows:

1. SIGNS AND COGNITION. Peirce conceived of his semeiotic as a theory of cognition (following Plato and Locke). What research program will enable sign theory and cognitive science to join hands successfully with the natural sciences? Like many other philosophers and scientists, Peirce was fascinated by the morphology of the natural world. How can modern cognitive science, particularly linguistics, implement Peirce’s understanding that the natural world’s diversity and complexity cannot be explained merely by reference to physical, mechanical, or thermodynamic forces? What is the role of interpretation and the structure of thought in relation to the various disciplines? How can Peirce’s sign theory and his concept of final causation be understood as congruent with contemporary notions in evolutionary biology such as genetic program? Peirce’s theory proposes general answers to some of the questions enumerated above, specifically in alignment with his pragmatist conception of meaning and reality.

2. THE ANALOGY BETWEEN GRAMMAR AND NATURE. The course will raise questions about language as a foundational metaphor, an issue that goes back beyond Aristotle to prehistory and is to be found in almost all cultures. Should one attempt to analyze the language of nature like the human body, or the human psyche, “grammatically?” Which aspects of nature are (so to speak) its nouns, verbs, and adjectives? What is its syntax? Pursuing the analogy between grammar and nature in the spirit of such queries will necessarily involve confronting various disciplinary paradigms in their conceptual foundations. The semeiotic approach in Peirce’s sense takes anything whatever, including inorganic matter, as potentially significant: anything is capable of signifying if taken to be a sign, i.e., capable of “causing” an interpretation.

3. HISTORICAL EXPLANATION IN THE HUMANITIES AND THE SCIENCES. Since historical explanation is the mode of explanation in all disciplines where the agent’s purpose is central, what kind of logic do we need in order to deal with historical and evolutionary change as well as action? To what extent is the idea underpinning historical method, that a good description constitutes an explanation, applicable to the language-oriented disciplines? What is the relationship between synchronic and diachronic explanation? Can any given state of affairs (the “synchronic slice”) be explained with a more exact understanding of its causality by its evolution? Historical inquiry can be called a “science” in the measure that it utilizes rules of appropriateness grounded in schemas of practical inference. Do these schemas provide an objective framework for the explanatory practice of historians as well as all who utilize (retrospective) interpretation, like biologists and linguists? Peirce’s entire philosophy is based on a profound understanding of the role of history and evolutionary growth in the structure of knowledge. His theory of final causation is coordinated with the theory of signs in an organic way.

The major objectives and emphases of this course can be characterized by considering the “eccentric” position peculiar to human beings and the “third world” (in Karl Popper’s terminology) which expresses our eccentricity. Peirce’s conception of man as a sign, and of the universe as a semeiotic universe, is perhaps the deepest, most fertile, most imaginative, and most practically applicable form of this fundamental matrix of the human universe. Our bodies make us members of the physical world, permeated by forces and energies, events and interactions. Our psyche is a center, a perspective of feelings, emotions, and efforts, tendencies, dreams, by which the world of bodies is captured, tasted, chewed, swallowed, digested, or spewed back in disgust or enjoyment. Our eccentricity lies in the third world, the world of dialogue between the external and the internal worlds–what Peirce (early in his career) called the “Tuistical” (ego.id.tu) and (later) the Semeiotic World.
Although Peirce was a mathematician, logician, and scientist, his semeiotic recognizes the importance of feeling, emotion, sensation, sentiment, action. Put another way, the semeiotic offers us not only a way to understand science as a human enterprise, it also offers an approach to literature and the arts, to religion, to society, to the whole of the third world that lies between the private incommunicable interior and the vast spaces of the exterior universe.

MICHAEL SHAPIRO

As the author in the last century of a term paper for Roman Jaokobson on “Paronomasia in the Igor’ Tale, I was happy to see your most recent blogpost. Moreover one of my physical therapist’s favorite expressions is “Let’s get movin’ and groovin’. This coincidence led me to refer to the source of all wisdom, viz. Wikipedia, where I learned thatDuane Eddy’s first single (Moovin’ ‘N’ Groovin’) was a tune that he wrote with Lee Hazlewood, an Arizona disc jockey whom the guitarist had met while hanging out at a radio station as a teenager. Eddy and Hazlewood would go on to collaborate on a string of hit instrumental hits, including “Peter Gunn Theme,” “Boss Guitar” and “Rebel Rouser.”
Some music scholars cite this as the first true example of Surf music, partly because The Beach Boys borrowed the opening riff for their tune “Surfin’ Safari.” “Yeah, they used it,” Eddy told Spinner with shrugs and a chuckle, “and I never cared. That’s just music, sharing little bits of melody and all, no big deal. You know, Bobby Darin asked me about using the title, Moovin’ ‘N’ Groovin’, in his song ‘Splish Splash.’ No problem, I told him.”

Expatiating on a topic that has been broached here before, this morning Y-H-B was waiting to have his car serviced when the advisor came up to me and said: “Your repair is movin’ and groovin’.” It is clear that by using a phrase from common parlance influenced by the whole rap and hip-hop culture we are all assaulted by daily, the advisor wanted to emphasize to me that my car would soon be finished.

All paronomasia is a form of repetition––in this case that of sound. The most prominent species of paronomasia is, of course, rhyme, which is utilized not only in poetry but in ordinary discourse and in advertising. The effect of repetition, whether it occurs in speech, in fashion, or in other forms of behavior, always adds emphasis to what is being expressed. That is also repetition’s functional core.

MICHAEL SHAPIRO

On speaking to a lady serving Y-H-B in a local grocery store this morning, I was struck by the beauty of her voice, which was deep without being mannish and well modulated. This contrasted with her appearance, which was not particularly pleasing aesthetically (without being ugly by any means). This reminded me that speaking involves––whatever  else it may be––the voice of the speaker, with varying features normally depending on sex, age, and physical size, including that of the larynx.

Speech is necessarily delivered in a normal speaking voice, which has characteristics of tone, quality, and loudness. The impression a speaker makes on a hearer is thus dependent to a certain degree on these characteristics. Not all speakers are equally aware of the impression their speaking voices make on interlocutors. In most situations this does not have a direct bearing on the content of what is being spoken, but there is no doubt that one’s overall evaluation by others of one’s character is qualitatively dependent in part on one’s speaking voice.

MICHAEL SHAPIRO

Because Ukraine is back in the news yet again, one keeps hearing the dialectal pronunciation of the word, with stress on the initial vowel, rather than the standard pronunciation on the final. For instance, the current Secretary of State, Antony Blinken, who has degrees from Harvard and Columbia, consistently mispronounces this word. In view of the word’s current prominence in the media, here is a slightly edited repetition of the post on September 29, 2019:

The word “Ukraine” has been uttered ad nauseam in all the media reports on the Russian invasion of that country. More often than not, the various reporters and hosts cannot seem to decide which vowel gets the stress in this word, to the point where both initial and final stress can occur in the same sentence. Little do the utterers of the word realize that the variant with initial stress is non-standard, even dialectal. It follows the pattern established by such items as guitar and insurance in Southern American English.

In this era of universal media saturation, one cannot but be gobsmacked by the fact that speakers of Standard American English falter when it comes to uttering Ukraine. What homunculus possesses them to mispronounce it thus [NOT “thusly”!]?

MICHAEL SHAPIRO