January 18th, 2010

Life, the Universe, and Rhetoric

This isn’t a word I use a lot but I’ve felt fairly confident in its place in my vocabulary since undergrad. But, like I said in the vocab post earlier this week, once I *think* I know what a word means, why would I ever look it up unless someone challenges or corrects me? Which is not precisely what happened in that post, but a few people I think might be smarter than I did mention they were impressed that I am comfortable using such a word…which immediately made it uncomfortable.

So let’s do it: here’s how I use the word rhetoric on the rare occasions on which I do:

Rhetoric is presentation or argumentation of an issue, theory, or concept. Rhetoric is *not* synonymous with the thing itself; it is synonymous with the words used to present that thing, from a given point of view, in a given style, and from a given agenda. For example, the rhetoric around breast cancer from the “pink ribbon campaign” has a personal, gently feminist tone and focuses a great deal on personal empowerment, separate from medical intervention. My rhetorical presentation of PC brand dulce de leche banana cream pie involved a lot of religious, divine-revelation-style language, but really it is just a pie.

Ok, that’s how I’ve been using it–let’s see if I’m right. To do this, I turn to M. H. Abrams’s A Glossary of Literary Terms, the source of most of my knowledge that doesn’t come from The New Yorker, Facebook, or something someone told me that I sorta half remember.

Mr. Abrams uses a lot of history, including figures like Aristotle and “the Roman rhetorician Quintillian” (no idea, and I’m not even going to link, because I would have no idea if I’d got the right link or not). Eventually he distills down to “In a general sense, then, rhetoric can be described as the study of language in its practical uses, focusing on the effects of language, especially persuasion, and on the means by which one can achieve these effects on auditors or readers.

Whew. So I think this means I’ve got it about right. More or less. If anyone feels like chiming in, to add or critique, feel free–my advice by itself is not worth a whole lot, at least not on complex topics like this. On simple topics like, for example, whether you should buy the book and/or the pie mentioned above, you should totally listen when I say: yes, both, resoundingly!!

There are too many colons in this post.

RR

January 15th, 2010

Week-ender

Thanks so much to all who chimed in (or even thought chimeful thoughts) on my vocab-rant last post. I don’t think anything on Rose-coloured has ever garnered 11 comments. Thanks for letting me know/reminding me that word definitions are whatever most people understand it to be, my last subhead was defeated by its own cleverness, and the rules of grammar do not apply to David Mamet–I’m feeling considerably more chilled out about things now.

Except rhetoric–comments from smart people indicating that they don’t understand that word have undermined my own confidence that I understand it! So, coming soon: a post about rhetoric.

But today promises to be the busiest day ever, so not today. Today I’m just enjoying about simple things like: a) it’s sufficiently warm in my apartment (example of the simple joys in my life: I got out of the shower and didn’t want to die), b) my headache from yesterday went away, c) the video below, and c+) the fact that I may have learned to embed it correctly (we’ll see), d) that if I can just make it through the busiest day ever, I get to Skype with far-off friends, and tomorrow, someone is going to make me sweet-potato soup (Rose-coloured philosophy: hooray for sweet potatoes! I recognize as a philosophy that needs work).

I have noted that not everything in the world is good. Accidentally watching the news from Haiti last night on the gym left me near tears on the elliptical trainer, I am so sad about the loss of P.K. Page, and I think certain friends are having some tough times these days.

I’m not saying that this video ameliorates any of that, but I do think it’s very funny and it’s only 47 seconds long. 47 seconds of distraction is worthwhile, I think. (Thanks, Ben, for the link!)

RR

January 13th, 2010

Vocabulary Rant: Winter Edition

Remember last week when I was miserable? I read a lot, and every time I came across some vocabulary error I went on a (silent) rant about whatever it was being basic knowledge and who were these writers who didn’t even know the definition of “savory”??

Of course, that’s nonsense–vocabulary’s hard, because once you think you know a word, why on earth would you look it up to confirm the definition? If the word is esoteric, you might not even use it in conversation often enough for someone who knows better to hear it and correct you. You are stuck with this erroneous impression for life, perhaps…

I’ve carried mistakes around unvoiced for years, only to be blown away when, for example, my TA couldn’t understand what I meant when I said “re-TOR-ick” and another student had to step in and say, “I think she means rhetoric,” as if I were an over-precocious child or perhaps a trained monkey. Er, ahem, that was a bad day.

Anyway, this is a (modestly) good day, and I am ready to assert some things about some words in the hopes that it’ll help someone and, if I get anything wrong, some kind commenter will step in quickly to set me straight and save me from years of further errors. You’d do that for me, wouldn’t you?

I’m going to skip over where I found these errors, as the works in questions were actually pretty good and I don’t wish to embarrass anyone (as that oblivious TA did to me!!)

You can’t call sweets “savory,” because they are sweet. Foods that are savory have a predominant flavour of herbs, spices, salt, or some combination thereof. They are what one eats for appetizers or the interesting part of main courses (the potatoes/bread/pasta are the bland part). When someone is having a potluck and realizes that all the guests are bringing cakes and cookies and they say, “We have too many sweets and not enough…not-sweets,” what they mean is savory. In this context, sweet and savory are opposites–fruits, candies, cakes’n’pies, etc. are never savory–the issue I came across was a fruit being described that way, which sounds horrid (imagine a salty spicy strawberry!) I think the confusion arises from the verb “to savor” , one definition of which is to enjoy a flavour. That flavour can be anything, sweet or savory, so you see how people could think anything worth savoring could be described as savory but, sadly, it’s not.

I’m using American spellings here, because those are the dictionary references I could find online. In Canada, it should really be “savoury” and “to savour”.

Bemusement means confusion, not amusement…or am I confused? I was taught ages ago that bemusement is a kind of gentle confusion, often with some ironic tolerance built in–you can be bemused by your toddler’s insistence on putting toys in the fridge, but you can’t be bemused in the chaos after a car accident (well, I can’t). But then while I was fishing for online definitions for this post, I came across this one, which seems to imply that bemuse *can* be a 50-cent synonym for “amuse,” as I often hear it used. Is this a commonly accepted definition–anyone know?

That which you choose, that or which, makes a difference. This one breaks my heart, because it is such a useful nuance of language and I’m pretty sure it’s going to die out. I recently lost an argument with a teenaged friend about why *not* spell “all right” as “alright”–my argument, because we already have a perfectly good way of spelling it and the new way does not add any new angle to the word, nor even save all that much energy not typing the second L and the space. His argument was, well, people often do, and are perfectly well understood. Then the example of “hoodie” for “hooded sweatshirt” came up, and that’s an evolution I rather like, as the slang word for a sloppy article of clothing seems so appropriate, plus the word reflects how people actually talk, and does save a lot of typing time.

So, fine, I accept “hoodie” as an addition to the language, and “alright” as at least not much of a subtraction, but losing the that/which distinction leaves us poorer, I think. And I do think it’s going, despite many people’s adherence, because fellow *editors* ask me about this one, and though they listen and even write it down when I explain, they always end by saying, “Thanks. I never remember that one,” as if it were impossible to learn and not much of a loss, anyway. But here it is, one more time, with feeling:

Use that with no comma to introduce a restrictive clause–thus, to limit the statement to being about some part of a larger group. For example, to say, “Lorna thought about the sex she had with Steve that was great,” is to say, she thought about *some* of the sex she had with Steve, the times that were great, but not the other, less stellar, times.

On the other hand, use which with a comma to introduce a non-restrictive clause–that is, a clause that adds extra information about *all* of the topic at hand, and doesn’t separate out a subsection as different. Thus, to say, “Lorna thought about the sex she had with Steve, which was great,” says to us that Lorna is thinking about all the times she and Steve had gotten together, and by the way, it was always great.

You see there’s a big difference here, right? Both for Lorna (and Steve!) and for the reader. If you run into this baffling construction–“Lorna thought about the sex with Steve which was great”–who the hell knows how good their sex lives are?

Sometimes I get the impression that people think grammar rules are just snobbery, like rules about what fork to use for the shrimp–a way for people who know to feel that they are better than those that don’t know. And frankly, on really tough days, sometimes the grammar that I do know (which is certainly not all of it) is all I have to cling to. In truth, when it comes to Latinate rules like not ending a sentence with a preposition, it really is just rules for the sake of rules, but when it comes to Lorna and Steve, I think sentence construction does matter and is worth thinking about!

I would love to know, oh Rose-coloured readers, does anyone observe the that/which distinction anymore? Don’t be afraid–it’s 21 C in my apartment today, so I can take the bad news if it happens that you don’t!

Thanks for reading–it felt really good to get all that off my chest!
RR

December 21st, 2009

Public Service Announcements

In case, you know, you need to know:

…how to cope with UPS. When you call UPS, there is no option in any menu to speak to an agent, but if you decline to press any buttons, even for English or French or to enter your tracking number (interesting: if you don’t choose a language, you get English) they will eventually tell you that you can’t speak to anyone unless you have tracking number, so call back when you’ve got one. Then a long pause that sounds like it might be permanent, then the weary voice of the autoprompt, asking “So do you still want to speak to an agent?” Say “yes” and the voice recognition software will direct you to an actual competent and (somewhat) sympathetic human. Man, that was tricky–but worth it.*

…what to give for a holiday gift. There’s great recommendations (and little bios of their sources so you can check for cred [they all have cred]> at The Advent Book Blog. I recommended a book last week, and now that the person I was giving that gift to has received it, I can link to my recommendation.

…how do something nice. Could you be persuaded to give blood? I know many people can’t because of low iron or certain prescriptions in their systems or other health problems, but if you can I think Canadian Blood Services could really use it this holiday season. I base this guess on the fact that last week, the gentleman donating in the chair next to mine experienced the briefest of dizzy spells, and *five* nurses were all over him like a bad suit–cold compresses, elevated legs, fans, cookies, ecetera! They were really really nice, but you just got the feeling they were a little underworked. A few more donators would keep the nurse/donator ratio a bit more even. I know nobody likes needles, and I personally loathe the whole process, but I feel SO GOOD afterwards, knowing I did something for someone (3 someones!), plus awesome karma for the day. I mean, just a few short hours after making this donation, I found a tambourine on the sidewalk!!!! Karmically amazing.

…describe people that are just too hyper. When someone described a potential project (going to see Sherlock Holmes on Boxing Day) as likely to be pandemonium, I said approximately, “Don’t worry, we’ll deal with the pandemaniacs.”** He responded, “That’s not a word,” but I think it is now, and it’s a pretty good one. I give it to you.

Hope that helps!
RR

* I just received the package, so I guess this is a win. But it took a week, four delivery attempts, one formal complaint, plus me saying morosely after I’d registered the complaint, “Can you write on it that I’m very sad?” (no, they can’t), so I am not feeling very victor-like.

** What I actually said was dumber than the above, but the neologism was the same, and this is my blog and I’m allowed to edit the past if I choose…right?

October 7th, 2009

Vocabulary Rant: PC edition

I keep wondering if I’ve put some or all of this material on the blog before–certainly, these are some of my pet issues. I should probably point out here that I do *not* think that there are words one cannot or should not say. There is a quotation I heard ages ago that I attribute to Twain though I can’t really find a source, which is about how all words are necessary, because they each express an invaluable shade of meaning, and indeed there are none I’m willing to give up. Definitely, there are shades of meaning I feel I don’t need in my personal conversations (blind rage; misogyny; racial hatred) but would use without hesitation in fiction if that’s who the characters were or what they were feeling.

But at the same time, to get all those shades, I try really hard to know what the word is and where it comes from. There’s stuff floating in the English language that are relics of a less gentle time, when it was more ok to slur the group of your choosing. Now the words are here, somewhat divorced from their histories, and it is up to every speaker to determine what listeners/readers will understand of that history when the words are used. For example:

Welshed/welched means to dishonestly renege on a bet or deal; it is also a way of mocking the people or Wales. Historically, word means exactly what it sounds like: that Welsh people are characteristically untrustworthy and that to refuse to pay up on money owed is to be like the Welsh.

Gypped out of money (or anything else) means cheated or swindled. It also is a slur against people of Romani (Gypsy) origins. Again, the verb probably derives from the ethnic group (it can’t be proven, but I’m not taking the chance), with the understanding that Romani people are dishonest and untrustworthy.

The argument I usually get in favour of using these words is that they are so much a part of English that no one intends, or even thinks, the historical meanings. Which is very well possible, but without the go-ahead vote from each individual Welsh or Romani person who might hear my talking, I am going to leave these words out of my conversational vocabulary. Because another supposedly “de-historicized” slang expression is to jew down the price, ie., to haggle aggressively or unfairly. Which makes me flinch every time I hear it.

To say someone is hysterical means they are paralyzed with an agitated nervous reaction that is out of all proportion to the problem at hand. The word also implies that a negative reaction that is either disproportionate to the matter at hand, or in reaction to something totally imaginary is somehow uniquely a female or feminine, indeed sexually so, as it derives from the Greek word for uterus, hustera.

This is a hard word for me to let go of, though I have a been trying since January. I do both overreact to things and invent problems, so hysteria would see to me my natural state. But in fact, I firmly believe that my being a bit bats is not a sexual problem (nor a gendered one, for those who cut a fine dice). I have seen men overreact like champions.

However, if I am writing fiction, I think I can say whatever I like, incorrect or offensive or blasphemous or whatever, as long is reflects the reality as characters experience it. Plenty of people don’t know these word histories, and would say them without a care, and plenty of people think all sorts of hateful things and would use these words *with* malice–but if I want those people in my stories (I do) then I have to be able to stomach all the words that I imagine they would say. It’s a weird line in the sand to draw, but I feel the only artistically sane one.

Also, I know there other words in this “historically suspect” category, so feel free to share–I bet there are ones I don’t know about.

We be chillin
RR

September 24th, 2009

To the semi-colon, a respectful love note

The Rose-coloured Mafia has become aware (thank you, Mark!) that today is National Punctuation Day! When asked what my favourite punctuation is (yes, this is what authors talk about…some authors), I would have to say nervously, the semi-colon.

“Nervously” because the semi-c is a notoriously “advanced” bit of punctuation, one I’ve only learned to use properly (I hope) in the past few years. It’s got subtly and gradations, nuance and force. Let me explain.

Usage 1: to divide items in a list when there are commas (or conjunctions) within the individual list items. Confused already? I understand. Ok:

As we all know, if you have more than two simple things you are listing in a sentence, you mark them off with commas (eg., “The period, exclamation point, and question mark are all terminal punctuation.”) [Note: the comma before the “and” is optional, but that’s another post.] But if they are items that themselves contain lists, a reader might get confused, so you use commas for the lists internal to the items, and semi-colons for the larger list (eg., “My favourite suppers are mac and cheese; tomato, ham, and swiss omelettes; and turkey, bacon, and avocado sandwiches).

Usage 2: to link two independent clauses and imply the relationship between them. Independent clauses are clauses that *could* stand alone as sentences, but they don’t have to. For example, “Philip is married to Nina. I hate Nina.” is just an enumeration of facts, some of them unhappy. But, “Philip is married to Nina; I hate Nina,” implies that their is a causal link between these two facts–perhaps I hate Nina because she is married to Philip. Perhaps I love Philip. Perhaps inherent in this grammatical example is a great novel.

The relationship has to be pretty obvious and self-contained for the semi-colon to make sense. You can’t just match up any two sentences and sometime later explain the link: “Philip is married to Nina; I like pie” is a bad semi-colon use, even if it comes out 30 pages later that I am planning to murder Nina with a poison pie…

Usage 3: to link two independent clauses if a transition is used between them. Transition words–properly called “conjunctive adverbs” for reasons that are a little confusing–are ones like however, therefore, moreover. These words make the link between clauses explicit, yet because they are not conjunctions we still need that semi-c. For example, “Nina is devouring the pie; therefore, she’ll soon be dead.”

***

Something I tried and tried to tell the first-year Effective Writing students I TA’d for is that a full life–and deathless prose–can be lived WITHOUT the semicolon. Yes, it adds nuance to a sentence, but only if you use it properly; otherwise, it looks stupid, same as any other error. This is higher-end punctuation, but only in the sense that unlike the comma and the period, you don’t *have* to use it, and probably will only really need it for complicated ideas. But it doesn’t *make* an idea complicated. There no such thing, really as a 50-cent word, or 50-cent punctuation: there’s just 50-cent ideas and the best way for an individual author to express them. But my students kept sticking semi-colons in after “and” anyway.

Up in the club
RR

August 21st, 2009

Spellchecked

I am doing the spellcheck on a story, and these are the words I’ve clicked “ignore” on. I wonder what clues they give as to the nature of the story:

uncatered
minifridge
Lavalife
colours
Coke
FedEx’d
admins
midconversation
dj
nothinger
orthodics
Prius
maritalness
bellish
clearish
one-night-standish
lingerie’d
unmuscled
fleshshaping
unerotic
clinkless

In some ways, that’s pretty much the whole story in miniature, in slang and neologisms. Weird.

She wears her overcoat for the coming of the nuclear winter
RR

July 1st, 2009

Oh, Canadian spellings

Colour vapour labour odour realize analyze vapourize glamour (but glamorous) jewellery ageing cheque judgment lasagna gonnorhea etc.

June 5th, 2009

Everybody’s got to be wrong sometimes

People gave me a number of good examples of bad vocabulary before my trip, and I’m just now getting ’round to sharing it. This will be the last grumpy word-use post for a while, though–I swear.

Penultimate comes before ultimate. (from Andrew)

I think people assume that if there’s any extra syllable on a known word, it is an emphatic, so penultimate must be *even more ultimate*. But in this case, it’s not; penultimate means the step *before* ultimate. The ultimate event is the fireworks; the penultimate event is running back to your blanket after lighting them.

Believe it or not, I’m enamoured of (not by) you. (from The Storialist)

This one is a bit formal and perhaps less-known, which is probably why I like using it so much. The most common (and euphonic, to my mind) thing to say one is that one is enamoured *of* something or someone, but most dictonairies will allow “enamoured with” also, and the Collins Gage even admits “by.” I’m not having that one, but I guess I won’t criticize anyone who does.

Furthermore, one can be enamoured whether or not affection is returned, and whether or not the object of affection is capable of return. I can be enamoured of my boyfriend, Nick Adams, and little glittery throw pillows without conflict…at least, not grammatical conflict.

Intensive purposes is probably not what anybody means. (from Rachel)

Apparently people write this after mishearing the cliche “for all intents and purposes,” which in most contexts means “by default” or “without formal recognition”, ie., “She is for all intents and purposes the manager, but she doesn’t have the doorplate or the salary.” Thus, she has the intentions and goals (purposes) of a manager, although she isn’t called that.

“Intensive purposes” makes less sense if used in the same context, but I guess not *no* sense–you could say that for only the most important (intense) purposes she acts as manager. But that wouldn’t sound all that bright, in my opinion.

You can’t get less regard than regardless. (from Mark)

This mistake might be a cousin of the “penultimate” one, people using an extra syllable as an emphatic. I guess this one is slightly better because the misspeakers are not corrupting the meaning of a real word. Irregardless is a nonsense word, or at best (worst!) a neologism created by sloppiness in the early 1900s that also means “without regard to,” same as “regardless.” Use regardless, really–why not?

Hopefully is to perform in a hopeful manner. (from my Father)

Oh man, I hate this one, because I do it (thanks, Dad!) I know it’s wrong, I hear myself saying it and wince, but it’s a really hard construction to correct midsentence. But I do know what makes sense, and it does not make sense to say, “The airline won’t lose our luggage, hopefully.” Hopefully is an adverb, and adverbs modify verbs–therefore, the literal meaning of this sentences is, “The airline will not lose our luggage, and will do so in a hopeful manner.” Which is probably not what anyone means.

I don’t know why it’s easier to say, “hopefully” than “I hope that” or “I am hopeful that” but it does seem to be, at leat for people of my own genearation and younger. I guess it’s a slang thing, but an unfortunate one, because it really can lead to confusion. “We’ll go to the awards ceremony, hopefully,” when heard allowed (ie., you can’t hear commas) could be understood, grammatically correctly, as: your plan is to defintely attend the ceremony in a mood of hopefullness. Or it could be understood, slangwise, as: you *might* attend the ceremony, mood irrelevant. Very difficult for someone meeting you there to parse what you mean, and what their action plan should be.

I am going to try to take my own advice, obviously, and do this less or, hopefully, never.

I pack my case / I check my face
RR

April 6th, 2009

“I don’t understand” in Japanese

Wakarimasen.

I think this one’s going to be key.

All the cops in the doughnut shop
RR