Lavengro

Some Italian artist or other …

Michelangelo

The other day I was checking a translation that had been done from English into Spanish for a company with a worldwide reputation for manufacturing products of the highest quality, the sort of company that is a byword for reliability and excellence, where everything can be expected to be perfect. My job was just to check that the original English text had been understood properly, especially some idiomatic expressions, and to answer a few specific queries – but I when I saw a reference to ‘Leonardo da Vinci's David’ I thought I would do the client a favour and change it to Michelangelo. It seems that even in a company such as this, and it is based in Europe, general cultural knowledge is not what it might be.

Leonardo da Vinci

On disappearing and being disappeared

Over the years I have often explained to English-speakers that it is a mistake to say that people ‘were disappeared’ during the Argentinian dictatorship. This misconception, which sounds appropriately cynical in English, is based on a misunderstanding of how the Spanish language works. I have explained the linguistic aspects in detail here and do not wish to repeat them. Suffice it to say that in Spanish, unlike English, a past participle of an intransitive verb can have a passive meaning: el accidente ocurrido ayer is the accident that occurred yesterday; the inflections in Spanish avoid any doubt as to the meaning but because the forms of the English past tense and past participle are identical the accident occurred yesterday can have only one interpretation as an active verb voice. So, while the Spanish word desaparecido(s) is indeed the past participle of desaparecer (disappear), it is the usual word for people missing in accidents and natural disasters and has no special forced meaning. The implication in Spanish is simply that those people were missing. Nevertheless, the idea has taken hold in English. The string “were disappeared” has 91,300 ghits including 171 in a News search.

On 16 March 2013 Manuel Rivas wrote in El País (my emphasis):

En Córdoba, Argentina, se está celebrando el juicio por crímenes de lesa humanidad contra 44 represores, acusados de secuestrar, torturar y hacer desaparecer a cientos de personas en el campo de concentración de La Perla. (In Córdoba, Argentina, 44 oppressors are on trial for crimes against humanity: kidnapping and torturing hundreds of people, and making them disappear, in the La Perla concentration camp.)

The Gran Diccionario Oxford too shows the verb as intransitive with hacer desaparecer as the transitive use (my emphasis):

desaparecer [E3] verbo intransitivo

1 (de un lugar) to disappear; desapareció sin dejar huella he disappeared o vanished without trace, he did a vanishing trick o a disappearing act (humorístico); hizo desaparecer el sombrero ante sus ojos he made the hat disappear o [sic] vanish before their very eyes; en esta oficina las cosas tienden a desaparecer things tend to disappear o go missing in this office; see at mapa

2 «dolor/síntoma» to disappear; «cicatriz» to disappear, go; «costumbre» to disappear, die out; lo dejé en remojo y la mancha desapareció I left it to soak and the stain came out; tenía que hacer desaparecer las pruebas he had to get rid of the evidence

3 (de la vista) to disappear; el sol desapareció detrás de una nube the sun disappeared o went behind a cloud; el ladrón desapareció entre la muchedumbre the thief disappeared o vanished into the crowd; desaparece de mi vista antes de que te pegue (familiar) get out of my sight before I wallop you (familiar)

n desaparecerse v pron (Andes)

1 (de un lugar) to disappear; se desaparecieron mis gafas my glasses have disappeared

2 (de la vista) to disappear

In view of all that it was with considerable surprise that I read this sentence in El sueño del celta (The Dream of the Celt) by Mario Vargas Llosa (my emphasis):

… como polaco, [Joseph Conrad] odia a Alemania tanto como a Rusia, que desaparecieron a su país por muchos siglos. (… as a Pole, Joseph Conrad hates Germany as much as Russia because they wiped out his own country for many centuries.)

There it is: desaparecer used as an active transitive verb, not even the passive past participle, and if it is in a book that won the Nobel Prize it can’t just be dismissed out of hand. A look at the Spanish Royal Academy’s Dictionary is interesting. For desparecer it has:

1. tr. Ocultar, quitar de la vista con presteza. U. t. c. intr. y c. prnl. [Usado también como intransitivo y como pronominal]

2. intr. Dejar de existir.

That is to say, its first definition is of a transitive verb (to hide or remove from sight swiftly) that can also be used intransitively. It is not for me to argue with Vargas Llosa or the DRAE but I can say that I have never seen desaparecer used in this way before and a good writer in a good newspaper uses hacer desaparecer for a transitive meaning. Nor is this directly transitive usage of desaparecer mentioned in the GDO, presumably because it is so rare.

I have mentioned this point in a previous post.

Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.

This morning I happened to come across the old chestnut

Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.

I was surprised (well, no I suppose wasn’t surprised really) to find that this sentence has its own Wikipedia entry listing no fewer than 11 possible interpretations:

• (as an imperative) measure the speed of flying insects like you would measure that of an arrow - i.e. (You should) time flies as you would (time) an arrow
• (imperative) measure the speed of flying insects like an arrow would - i.e. (You should) time flies by the same method that an arrow would (time them)
• (imperative) very quickly measure the speed of flying insects - i.e. (You should) time flies as quickly as an arrow would (be or move)
• (imperative) measure the speed of flying insects that are like arrows - i.e. (You should) time (those) flies (that are) like an arrow
• (declarative, i.e. neutrally stating a proposition) all of a type of flying insect, “time-flies,” collectively enjoy a single arrow (compare Fruit flies like a banana)
• (declarative) each of a type of flying insect, “time-flies,” individually enjoys a different arrow (similar comparison applies)
• (declarative) each of a type of flying insect, “time-flies,” individually enjoys an occasional arrow when there is an opportunity (compare: “He prefers beer, but I like a martini”)
• (declarative) the common metaphor “time,” moves in a way an arrow would (which, depending on the context of the phrase may mean “moves in a straight line”, “moves by parabola”, “its move depends on the wind”, etc.)
• (declarative) a copy of the magazine Time, when thrown, moves in a similar manner to that of an arrow.
• (declarative) time flees (attempts to escape) in the same way that an arrow does.
• (declarative) The company responsible for publishing Time Magazine (via synecdoche) is fleeing like an arrow would.

Language and dialect

On Sentence First Stan has a post about what seems to be a good book (I have not read it myself), The Power of Babel by John McWhorter. I particularly liked the comment that “Dialects are all there is: the ‘language’ part is just politics.” Stan says that he makes a long, persuasive case for the truth of this proposition.

That is a reaffirmation of the old quip that a language is a dialect with an army and a navy, though now perhaps we should add: and an Academy to standardise its orthography and usage.

Egregious and notorious

Michael Quinion discusses the word egregious, explaining how its negative meaning in English contrasts with the positive meaning of the  Italian egregio. Briefly, this is because the word derives from the Latin ex (out of) and greg- (the inflected stem of grex, a flock). Both mean different from the generality but the two cases have developed in different directions.

Something similar has happened with notorious. It derives from Latin notus, meaning known. In English it unequivocally means ‘famous for some bad quality or deed’ to quote the COED but the Spanish equivalent notorio simply means well known. In marketing notoriedad is just brand awareness and to translate it as notoriety would certainly upset the marketing department – in fact, just as a false impression was given by a tourist leaflet that I once saw that had been published by Barcelona city council. It listed some some ‘notorious buildings`!

Countable and uncountable nouns – an exception

There is a distinction between countable and uncountable (also known as mass) nouns. One difference is that countable nouns can have an indefinite article:

a book, a table, a car, a dog

while uncountable ones cannot: 

*a water, *a music, *an air, *a money

(counter-examples can be invented but they are not the point here).

Another difference is the quantifiers that they use:

COUNTABLE	UNCOUNTABLE
all both each/every most many number a lot of/lots of some, several, various, diverse (a) few, fewer, fewest not … any no, none	all     most much deal, amount, quantity a lot of/lots of some (a) little, less, least not … any no, none

(Table from A Guide to English Language Usage for non-native speakers, Peter Harvey, Lavengro Books)

I have noticed, however, that there is a group of nouns that are uncountable in almost every sense and usage but which can in certain circumstances take an indefinite article:

A knowledge of Russian …

A willingness to act …

A generosity that was inspirational …

What could be the explanation of this phenomenon? Could it be post-definition of the noun? Not entirely. If each of six people shows a willingness to act we cannot say *Those six willingnesses made the difference between success and defeat.

All suggestions welcome.

Originally posted 23 September 2010, update 18 March 2013. My stats show that this is among the most popular posts on this blog. I am pleased to add to the rather meagre information available here by linking to a post on David Crystal's blog that deals with the subject in greater detail but nevertheless also fails to reach a definite conclusion as to the nature of this phenomenon.

Inclusive language

In its report on the papal conclave on Wednesday the Independent said (my emphasis):

each cardinal swore a solemn oath with their hand on the Bible not to reveal the secrets of their deliberations

In today’s Errors and Omissions column it recognises the problem:

But the cardinals are all men. There would have been no problem at all about writing: “Each cardinal swore a solemn oath with his hand on the Bible.” So the question arises: is the use of “they” in a singular sense becoming simply habitual, regardless of gender issues? Can we expect “he” and “she” to lose further ground as the decades pass?

I suspect that the answer to that question is yes. I discuss the problems surrounding inclusive language in A Guide to English Language Usage. I say:

when a general singular reference is made to a teacher, doctor or driver for example, there is no satisfactory solution: When a teacher speaks to a child, he or she must…; A doctor must respect his/her patients. Such forms are inelegant in print and almost impossible in speech. Some people choose to use the masculine pronouns, or rather the more probable one: In 2020, whoever is the President of Iran will find that his country…; A primary school teacher may have up to thirty children in her class.

The Huffington Post writes

each cardinal elector will touch the Holy Gospels and “promise, pledge and swear” to uphold the oath.

I do not doubt that it was written that way naturally with no deliberate intention of avoiding the problem but working a sentence in such a way that the problem does not arise is certainly an option

One convenient solution that is sometimes appropriate is to use a plural: Primary school teachers may have up to thirty children in their classes or a definite article: A primary school teacher may have up to thirty children in the class.

It seems unreasonable, however, that a particular form of expression should be made unavailable because the precise meaning of the language does not coincide with the reality of the world. The first edition of A Guide to English Language Usage, published in 2007 but with this article written five years or more earlier, referred to the President of the USA instead of Iran. After Hillary Clinton’s perfectly plausible bid for the presidency in 2008 I felt that this had to be changed.

There is no doubt that the use of they with singular reference is firmly established in the language and I am sure that it will become more widespread. I have written on this matter before, describing what seemed to be an unfortunate example. Nevertheless, it is not clear how far this change will go. I write:

Anyone who has found themselves alone in a forest at night… sounds unusual; the combination of singular and plural is strange.

but it may be that in a future edition of the book I will need to revise my article on inclusive language.

Cachacascán

WordReference is a very good internet resource for bilingual dictionary definitions in a number of languages but something odd is going on with the Spanish word cachacascán.

It says that it can find no English translation

although one of its own forums relates it to the English catch-as-catch-can, defined by the COED as

1 archaic wrestling in which all holds are permitted.
2 [usu. as modifier] a situation of using whatever is available.

The word is not recognised by the Spanish Royal Academy’s Dictionary, which is sad because it is such a lovely word,

The pope’s number

It has been announced that the new pope will be called Francis, not Francis I, a title that will be used if there is a second pope with that name. This is the ancient custom of the Catholic Church though it was not followed in the case of John Paul I. It is also the custom of British royalty, where we have Queens Victoria and Anne with no regnal number, whereas in Spain the King is styled Juan Carlos I.

The situation in the UK is in fact more complicated than that. As Wikipedia explains:

Though the situation was the same in every one of the Queen's realms beyond the United Kingdom, only within, in Scotland, did the title Elizabeth II cause controversy as there had never been an Elizabeth I in Scotland. In an act of sabotage, new Royal Mail post boxes in Scotland, bearing the royal cypher EIIR, were vandalised, after which, to avoid further problems, post boxes and Royal Mail vehicles in Scotland bore only the Crown of Scotland. A legal case, MacCormick v. Lord Advocate (1953 SC 396), was taken to contest the right of the Queen to title herself Elizabeth II within Scotland, arguing that to do so would be a breach of the Act of Union. The case, however, was lost on the grounds that the pursuers had not title to sue the Crown and the numbering of monarchs was part of the Royal Prerogative, and thus not governed by the Act of Union. It was suggested by Winston Churchill that future British monarchs should be numbered according to either their English or Scottish predecessors, whichever number is higher;[4] equivalent rules have not, however, been applied in the other Commonwealth realms.

(Images, Wikipedia)

Quite so

Geoff Pullum writes in Lingua Franca about a correspondent who would like to eliminate the word quite. As he says:

Three unsavory tendencies probably reinforce each other here: (1) the familiar “get-rid-of-the-adverbs” nonsense preached by bad usage handbooks and writing advice sites; (2) the curious phenomenon that Language Log calls word rage; and (3) the kind of crusading linguistic purism that aims not just at personal improvement but at bossing other people around.

I quite agree, and am also pleased to see his reference to ‘bad usage handbooks’, which implies that he does really accept that there are some good ones.

He then writes an interesting analysis of the history of the word and how its two apparently opposing meanings can be separated and described.

In my own book, A Guide to English Language Usage, I look at the matter from a different point of view, saying:

This is a confusing word as it means 1 completely, totally, absolutely and 2 fairly, rather, to a degree. The second meaning is fairly new, being first recorded in 1854.

Examples of usage are

1 It is quite impossible; That is quite a different proposal; I was quite alone; You are quite right; I quite agree.

2 I quite often go to the cinema; It was quite hot yesterday; He lives quite near the station; It is quite a difficult book; I quite like his books.

The examples under 1 are non‑gradable while those under 2 are gradable.

Similarly with verbs: I quite agree means that I completely agree but I quite enjoyed the party means that it was enjoyable but I have been to better ones.

Words with two opposing meanings are called contranyms or antagonyms. Cleave is a good example (definitions from the COED):

cleave1

· v. (past clove or cleft or cleaved; past part. cloven or cleft or cleaved)

1 split or sever along a natural grain or line. Ø split (a molecule) by breaking a particular chemical bond. Ø Biology (of a cell) divide.

2 make a way through: they watched a coot cleave the smooth water.

– DERIVATIVES cleavable adj.

– ORIGIN OE clUofan, of Gmc origin.

A cloven foot

A cleft sentence is for example: It’s John we’re looking for.

cleave2

· v. (cleave to) poetic/literary

1 stick fast to.

2 become strongly involved with or emotionally attached to.

– ORIGIN OE cleofian, clifian, clWfan, of W. Gmc origin; rel. to clay and climb.

I have discussed Spanish contranyms in a previous post.