Sunday, July 20, 2008

William Safire's charge to lexicographers

In today's "On Language" column, William Safire spurred lexicographers to get with the program, produce entries describing "inartful," and pay homage to him for recognizing and critiquing the term when Mario Cuomo used it as a political dodge years ago.

Safire's article, full to the brim with his usual language-maven bravado, reflects two fascinating things (at least to me) about our lexicographical culture.

1) Immediately after reminding us of his political affiliations (his words once issued forth from Richard Nixon's vocal tract), Safire declares his lexicographical affinities: no liberal Webster's Third or Anglophile OED for him, no sir. Safire's strictly a Funk and Wagnall's man. While a lovely dictionary, no title connotes conservatism quite so well, from its infelicitous prosody to its well-established association with prescriptive usage. The dictionaries we choose reveal our politics almost as quickly as the purposes to which we put them.

2) We attribute coinages to speakers on the way up the prestige ladder rather than those on their way down. Cuomo's original use of "inartful" became just another example of the Governor's bobbing and weaving (and putative liberal illiteracy) for Safire. And Safire, although a champion of literate usage and an established language maven, simply won't influence speakers on the ground. While he may use a word and define it for his plebian readers, said plebes are unlikely to take it up (or ignore it) because Safire has told us to. Thus, a first citation, while an important stop on the train toward dictionary inclusion, isn't Penn Station; it's Far Rockaway. Barack Obama has done more to cement "inartful" as a potential "word of the year" than all the Safire columns in the world.

So what does all this suggest: 1) I can't ride the subway without a map (took my daughter to the American Museum of Natural History via Queens last week); 2) I read William Safire; 3) my "dictionaries in the news" search is playing itself out. I think I need a new heuristic. Look it up. It's a lovely word.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Crafty words

So my friend Melinda encouraged me to join Ravelry.com. They have a profile page, which will feed in anything you've written to your blog; so I've figured I'm obliged to write a self-referential or intentionally circular blog posting about the relationship between the philologist self and the knitting and crafting self. I've always been crafty--one of my happiest memories was the faux sky I painted on my closet door in the first apartment I had all to myself. Moreover, I faux marbled cardboard bookshelves that lined my walls. Essentially, I've always enjoyed spreading paint, glue, and other substances all over everything I could get my hands on. But paper crafts require scissors, glues, paints, and powders, all of which are intrinsically incompatible with an infant or toddler.

Not that knitting needles are necessarily safer--but they are easier to control and deflect away from eyes, ears, and other areas--so I've taken up knitting to fill my fidgeting hours. But I was thinking of the rich vocabulary that comes along with all these hobbies. Each activity has its own jargon, some more ridiculous than others. I'm fascinated that this knitting website has revived, or assisted in reviving a somewhat archaic term. A "ravel" from the Dutch word, rafel, according to the OED, originally meant a " A tangle, complication, entanglement; a cluster." Meanings soon seem to distinguish themselves into the attributions of such a cluster, such as a "loose thread." Since "ravel" appears to come from a Dutch weaving term meaning to "unweave," I'm truly perplexed why we would need "unravel" at all.

At least I was perplexed until I figured out that the Dutch prefix 'ont-', which the OED suggests appears in the Dutch source of unravel, ontrafelen, does not only suggest reversal, but a sense of irreversibleness. Therefore, a weaver who was to have ontrafelen a textile would be unable to do it again--presumably because the textile would have ceased to exist.

Now my question is this: have folks back-formed a word "ravel" to suggest the putting together of textiles, or are they simply acknowledging the fact that any knitter, especially a comparatively new knitter such as I, spends a great deal of time repetitively knitting and unknitting the same garment until satisfied with the result? I shall ask and report back my findings.