Earth-Inverting Implement

Slovenly Language  and Slovenly Thoughts

Now and then I'm taken to task for my vocabulary. 'Why do you have to use such obscure words?' is the question. 'You can't expect people to know what that means.' When this happens, in a few days I invariably hear that very same word used on Radio 4, or encounter it in the Times. Not so obscure, then. As it happens I seldom use genuinely obscure words. I would never use quincunx, for example, or leucocholy. But I reserve the right to think eclectically; I try to avoid intractable problems; I behave neither indecorously nor unconscionably; and, most importantly, I use my vocabulary nonchalantly. Yet these are the sort of words I'm pulled up for.

I wonder whether, when the train manager speaks over the public address, I am the only passenger to smile. 'Smoking is prohibited on this train, including in the vestibules at the ends of the carriages'. We may not smoke in the vestibules; nor we may smoke at the ends of the carriages; these two places are coterminous, I would suspect. This reminds me of my primary school teacher, bless him, Mr. Walsh, at school assembly. 'We will sing hymn number 32, but omit - that means miss out - the third verse. In years I never heard him omit the explanatory clause.

When I used 'sanctimony', a friend immediately said: 'Why do you use such obscure words? You can't expect people to know what that means.' There was an irony here because, not long before that, we'd discussed an episode of Inspector Morse in which 'sanctimony' was indeed used. My friend evidently had not remembered it or, more probably, he'd not even noticed it. I suspect that many viewers listen inattentively, while giving greater attention to the visuals; whereas I, on the other hand, possess the technically attuned ears of the writer. Another word I've been pulled up for is 'juxtaposition'; this man had surely heard it before. More likely he'd heard it, but not noticed it. Similarly, when a colleague read aloud from my writing, he stumbled at 'concomitant'. He backed off and ran at it several times, like a trainee soldier on an assault course, then told me I wouldn't get anywhere by using fancy words like that. Again, I find it difficult to believe that he'd never encountered it. More likely he hadn't noticed it.

Vocabulary is, or can be, a gradual process of accretion. During the course of my own life, whenever I've heard a word that is new to me, I have not only looked it up, but have also added it to my own vocabulary. The older you are, then, the larger your vocabulary. I recognise, however, that this practise is not so common. Others attain a stable vocabulary, say, in late teenage, and thereafter make no effort.

If a fancy word is used on the telly, then that's okay. If I use the same word, then that's showing off - there is head-shaking and tut-tutting, as if I've done something underhand. In learning my language, in acquiring information that is available to everyone, I have somehow gained an unfair advantage. Hearing a word and consulting a dictionary is excusable - provided you avoid using the word yourself. Reading dictionaries, on the other hand, well, that's simply inexcusable; it's like cheating at cards.

The size of one's vocabulary is part of sexual selection and assortative mating. The ability to transcend 'green' and 'blue', for example, and to employ navy, jade, azure, ultramarine, cerulean, cobalt blue, chartreuse, aquamarine, etc., is an ornamental capacity analogous to the peacock's tail, and a display one's mental quality as a potential mate. Vocabulary, then, is central to courtship and cognitive foreplay, as Darwin pointed out. Couples in long-term relationships, indeed, tend to have similar-size vocabularies.

A certain writing tutor has cautioned me more than once about my linguistic proclivity. I reply that English is a rich language; and that those riches should be celebrated, rather than locked up in a basement and forgotten. (We should particularly celebrate the charming and intriguing words.) The emasculation of English can be traced to Ernest Hemingway and other 'modernists'. (Ironically so, as Hemingway's public image relied on machismo). I wonder whether the Victorians had a larger vocabulary - their prose would seem to say so. Obviously we have a much larger technological vocabulary, but that's different. Nowadays no-one ever asseverates, opines or bloviates, as they do in Dickens, Trollope or Thackeray. Why must we expunge fancy words? It is possible to arrange Beethoven's choral symphony for the kazoo; but I prefer a symphony orchestra, thank you very much.

Never use a long word, when a short one will do. That is the advice, nowadays. But this dichotomy is a red herring. The proper choice is determined not by length, but by precision. With a larger vocabulary you may slice and dice like a master chef; you access a finer-grained texture of meaning, and more skilfully hone your argument. Fancy words are more about accuracy and precision, than they are ornateness and ostentation.

My boss would joke about my supposed use of 'earth-inverting implement', in preference to 'spade'. This, however, is to invert the truth. Putting, then, my boss's joke the right way up, everybody else is saying 'earth-inverting implement'; at which I say we have a word for that, namely 'spade'. Then others might say, 'Oh, I see, you take a short-cut', to which I might reply, 'Yes, it's called concision'. Then they say, 'Oh, I see, "earth-inverting implement" is the long way round'; to which I reply, 'Yes, that's called a periphrasis'. Then they say, 'stop using those fancy words.'

The periphrasis is nowadays needlessly preponderant - we have political correctness to thank for this. Alcoholics are 'people with alcohol issues'; the mentally ill are 'people with mental health issues'; the diminutive are 'persons of restricted growth'. When I referred to an historical character as 'syphilitic', I was immediately corrected. 'Why can't you just say he had syphilis?' came the disdainful reply. 'There's no such word as syphilitic, anyway'. I said syphilitic, for the same reason I would never say 'earth-inverting implement'. Namely, concision. I reserve, also, the right to convert nouns into adjectives, because that's the way English works.

My boss would also joke about my 'quibbles', when it came to the meanings of words. Yet nit-picking is not what it's about. As George Orwell warned us, slovenly language leads to slovenly thoughts; and errors in terminology lead to wrongheaded ideas. The battles over 'decimated' and 'celibate' were lost long ago. We're increasingly told that if oil is found, then the land will be literally a goldmine; a barbarous solecism which some dictionaries now accept. This is a world, therefore, in which 'literally' means figuratively as well as nonfiguratively; or in other words, it has been rendered useless. If we mean literally in the original sense, then no word is available for the purpose. This is not nit-picking.

We agree easily enough about 'red' or 'little', but ideas are less concrete. The word 'stereotype' originally meant a generalised belief about a group. If I'm approached by a Labrador I think one thing; if I'm approached by a Rottweiler I think another. Stereotype, however, has now acquired connotations of bigotry and falsity. If we use this word, therefore, we must first specify what we mean by it; otherwise confused talking results. This is not nit-picking. Also, if you prefer to navigate the world without generalised beliefs, then good luck with that.

A discussion about 'multiculturalism' will produce many opinions and indeed heated arguments. Is it important or is it unimportant? Has it worked or has it failed? Above all, is it a Good Thing or a Bad Thing? These questions should not be explored, before establishing what 'multiculturalism' means. Otherwise, two people may differ when they agree - they are using the same word in different ways. Or perhaps two people agree, when they should agree to disagree. To define a label, and to understand the concept thus labelled, are two sides of the same coin. If you wish to know whether I'm a feminist, then first specify what you mean by the word; for only then will I answer. We understand words via our personal baggage; and since no lives are the same, it is a wonder that language works so well. If you enjoy a disconcerting experience, then try consulting several dictionaries for the same word.

(c) cufwulf

cufwulf@aol.com