Welcome to Wordsmiths! Home of Jensen's Grammar

Great Courses has some interesting materials. I purchased a series of 36 lectures from them about words by professor Anne Curzan. The title is The Secret Life of Words: English Words and their Origins. I obviously like words. I’ve spent most of my life dealing with words, what they mean, where they come from, how they combine into phrases and clauses, and how we use them to communicate. I realize not everyone shares my passion in this respect. That’s too bad for those who don’t, but different strokes for different folks. I was inspired to write this article after hearing one of Ms. Curzan’s lectures on the life of words.

Words come and go. They are born and they die. Some are still born; they never get anywhere. I think of the inkhorn terms that were popular in the 16^th and 17^th centuries when English was changing from Middle English to Modern English. An inkhorn was a small container, usually of horn, that held ink. Thus, inkhorn terms came from end of somebody’s pen. Some of these words didn’t make it, for instance, yeartide, a word for anniversary. Others like celebrate did. The inkhornists were all for making up new words by borrowing from other languages and by putting Latin and Greek roots and affixes together in new ways. They were opposed by the purists, who wanted English to be English and not contaminated by all the new words, especially those borrowed from other languages.

Each age has its own set of words that come into being.  Technology in our own time has given us many new words.  Ten years ago, who would have known the phrase google it?  Some of the expressions I heard as a boy are in the dustbin.  Who says shazam anymore?  Those of my generation who remember Captain Marvel know where that word came from.

Some words have been around as long as English has been English.  Words like I and man and sun were part of the Germanic dialect from which English sprung.  We have hung on to the eight forms of be.  No other verbs in English today have eight forms, but we’ve kept all eight of be because they are in constant use.  And that’s the key to the life of a word.  If a word is in relatively steady use, it will stay alive.  If people quit using the word, it eventually drops out of the language.

So, words are birthed in three ways.  The oldest words have come from the early Germanic dialect that later became English; these words are usually very common words in daily use.  Some words came into English because they were borrowed from other languages.  Squash was an Indian word which we borrowed from the Narragansetts in Rhode Island.  Roger Williams wrote about it in 1643.  The original Indian word was much longer, but the English speakers shortened it to squash.  We also took Indian words for moose, raccoon, and skunk, all of which were native to America but unknown in England.  The third way new words come into the language is through invention.  Google is such a word.  Television is an earlier example.  The inkhorn folks would love modern technology.

Speaking of borrowing words, we are indiscriminate when it comes to the originating language; we will borrow from any language if we like the word.  Algebra has its origins in Arabic; ketchup comes from Chinese.  Dutch gives us pickle, and Finnish hands us sauna.  Pajamas is of Hindu origin. Kayak is from the Inuit; karaoke is from Japanese.  Hogan comes from the Navajo, and Portugese lends us molasses.  Czar or tsar is from Russian while Spanish is the source for rodeo.  Of course, I have barely scratched the surface with these examples.  Latin, Greek, French, Spanish and German have given us a great many words, primarily because of our associations with these countries or languages.

Of course, borrowing words is not a one-way street.  The French use les bluejeans.  Americanisms abound in other languages.  The advance of electronic communications and the rise of English as the world language has and will contribute to all sorts of cross fertilization in language.

Words also die.  They die when people stop using them.  How do we know when a word dies?  For most people it isn’t an issue, the word just falls out of usage.  However, for those who write dictionaries, it is a big issue.  Do they or don’t they continue to include a given word when they print a new edition.  Sometimes dictionary authors will hedge.  They will put the word in and give it a label, usually archaic.  This means the word may not be in common use anymore, but we can still find it in classical literature, such as Shakespeare, and we will have some idea of its meaning.

Language is organic; it is ever shifting.  Words come and go.  Some change meaning.  Think of cupboard, for instance.  Today we store lots more than cups in a cupboard.  Cupboard has expanded in its meaning.  Starve, on the other hand, used to mean “to die by any means.”  Today it has been reduced to “death by lack of food.”  Conversation has completely shifted in meaning.  In one of my dictionaries the common definition is “an informal exchange of thoughts and feelings, a familiar talk.”  However it does give the older definition as used in the King James Bible, “behavior,” but the dictionary labels it obsolete, meaning nobody uses that definition anymore.

Language and its study can be fun, at least I think so, and hopefully I’ll continue to write about it for some time.  After all, words are my business.

 Frode Jensen