Showing posts with label Shakespeare. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shakespeare. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

David Gelernter on "cyber-English"

From here:

Social networking, texting, email and digital messages have borrowed the keys to the English language and are joy-riding all over the landscape, smashing body panels and junking up the fancy interior. Many thoughtful people are worried. But it's good for English to get shaken up occasionally—by people who are using it in new ways, not by academics ordaining from on high.

In the 1980s and '90s, email saved the personal letter from extinction by moving it online. Email-writers have leaned heavily for decades on abbreviations, which suit this quick-and-casual medium. Thus the celebrated "lol," "laughing out loud," and many others.

When the young members of Generation-i use their phones to send text messages, the small keyboards make typing awkward and abbreviations even more important: "b4n" (bye for now), "cu" (see you). Texters, social-network posters and emailers are all prone to write (as their messages go zipping and hurtling back and forth) in sharp-edged shards and slivers of language.

Abbreviations and fragments are a language's normal response to stress. Medieval language is dense with abbreviations, because writing material was expensive and books could be published only by copying. Today the stresses are different but the response is familiar.

When you are forced to compress your message into fewer words, each word works harder, carries more meaning on its shoulders and, accordingly, becomes more important and interesting. Digital English is no good for poetry or novels, but on balance it's refreshing.

What are your thoughts on the evolution of English? Linguists take it as axiomatic that English-- as with any language-- is constantly evolving. Language purists, however, bemoan the various ways in which the language changes. The difference between these detached observers (the linguists), on one hand, and the so-called "language Nazis" (the purists), on the other, is the difference between descriptivism and prescriptivism. A linguistic descriptivist simply describes what's happening to language; a prescriptivist, by contrast, considers him- or herself to be an authority on the proper forms of that language: s/he prescribes the correct forms and usage.

Every English teacher is at least a partial prescriptivist in that sense, concerning him- or herself with proper and coherent forms of self-expression. Every dictionary, meanwhile, is both descriptivistic and prescriptivistic: dictionaries describe language as it's spoken and written in that dictionary's era (invoking histories and etymologies along the way), but they also act as authorities on proper usage, spelling, pronunciation, etc. We don't merely read dictionaries; we consult them.

I've written quite a few posts on this blog that are prescriptivistic in tone. It might surprise students to learn that I'm also a bit of a descriptivist: I believe that language has a structure, and that there are proper and improper forms of expression, but I also think it's only natural for language to evolve. That is the way of things-- the way of the Force, as Yoda might say. Shakespeare sounds old because language constantly changes; the 1950s expression "Daddy-o" sounds old to young ears (it sounds old to my ears, since I was born in the late 1960s!); even expressions from the 70s, like "Right on!" and "Keep on truckin'!" sound antiquated. How many students nowadays would be able to use 1980s high-school slang with a straight face? "You dweeb!" "You spaz!" Who talks like that anymore? Even 1990s slang like "Whoop-- my bad" sounds a bit hackneyed. In 2012, portmanteaux rule: slammed-together word combos that express complex concepts in a single compound. In 2012, we've got frenemies and we're chillaxin'; ambivalent people can be forgainst something. By 2020, those same portmanteaux might seem embarrassingly cliché.

Take a step back from the lexical swirl, though, and notice that most of the linguistic evolution is occurring only at the superficial level of slang. Basic structures-- e.g., syntax-- take much longer to change. Shakespeare is still comprehensible after 500 years because we moderns still use the same basic grammar and most of the same basic vocabulary.

So I don't think Mr. Gelernter is wrong to note that English needs to be shaken up every now and then. But we also need to remember that speaking and writing a language don't mean speaking or writing whatever we want, however we want. If I point at a bird and yell "Police car! Police car!", who can blame any observers for thinking I'm crazy? Language evolves, but this doesn't remove the notion of right and wrong from language learning.


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Wednesday, February 15, 2012

sonnet 109

In honor of yesterday, which was Valentine's Day, I give you Shakespeare's Sonnet 109:

O! never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seemed my flame to qualify,
As easy might I from my self depart
As from my soul which in thy breast doth lie:
That is my home of love: if I have ranged,
Like him that travels, I return again;
Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,
So that myself bring water for my stain.
Never believe though in my nature reigned,
All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
That it could so preposterously be stained,
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good;
     For nothing this wide universe I call,
     Save thou, my rose, in it thou art my all.

Found here, with commentary.


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Wednesday, February 1, 2012

a famous soliloquy

One of the most famous of Shakespeare's soliloquies comes from the tragedy Macbeth. This particular meditation, on the futility of life given the crushing inevitability of death, has come to mind lately thanks to a friend's having posted some YouTube clips of Ian McKellen's, Patrick Stewart's, and Nicol Williamson's respective performances of these lines.

The play is nearing its end, and Macbeth has just learned of the death of his wife:

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.


Macbeth Act 5, scene 5, 19–28

Is life meaningless? Is living a futile act, like a bad play in which we're all players who "strut and fret"? I occasionally ask my students this question: Why do anything? The question itself is vitally important, I think, because if you seriously believe that nothing is worth doing, then life becomes either a long wait for death or a preparation for suicide.

So I ask you: why do anything? What makes life worth living?


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