Showing posts with label sound change. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sound change. Show all posts

Monday, 7 December 2009

Hot for Words: On titillating etymologies and pop philology (with some remarks on Beowulf movies and sex thrown in for good measure)

I came across an article by Marc Bousquet, "Teaching for Lust" on Brainstorm, the blog of The Chronicle of Higher Education, discussing Marina Orlova (Марина Орлова), a self-employed philologist who produces a YouTube series "Hot for Words".

Apparently Marina started her YouTube channel back in 2007, but I'd never heard of her until this week. I haven't seen her discussed in any of the usual places (Language Log, languagehat, etc. [update: "Hot for Words" was actually discussed a couple of times at the blog bradshaw of the future{sweostorword}; I overlooked these posts obviously.]). I'm usually on the lookout for video clips having to do with language but somehow I missed this series.

Here's the first video she posted (the more recent videos are much more polished):



And a blurb from her website:
Marina Orlova, known to millions of fans around the world as a sexy master of language, HotForWords, is a 28 year old Internet “sensation”. Hailing from Moscow, Marina has two degrees in philology which is the study of linguistics and origins of words. Back in Russia Marina taught English and World Literature to high-schoolers. She came to the United States six years ago to improve her English skills and prepare for her Ph.D., but she ended up staying in the U.S. simply because of the warmer weather. Two and a half years ago, Marina burst onto the YouTube scene. Her initial goal was to reach more people with her language knowledge...In each video she takes word requests from YouTube users and discusses their meanings and origins. Something that might, at first, seem boring, but when a buxom blonde with a Russian accent teaches you anything, it can be quite educational, thus proving, as her tag-line states, that “Intelligence is Sexy.”
Obviously part of her popularity is simply because sex(iness) sells. But is this a bad thing?

I had some concerns about whether her philology would be sound, especially as she's apparently a recurrent guest on Fox News' The O'Reilly Factor---and I don't associate Fox News with "truthiness".

The few "Hot for Words" videos I watched, however, seemed largely accurate. I mean, they weren't deep, and I'm guessing Orlova takes a lot of etymologies straight from the OED, but I didn't notice any serious misinformation. Etymologies seem to be her main trade, though she does have a video which touches on sound change, dealing with the pronunciation of kn-initial words (where knife is illustrated by a khukuri!), and a bit on neologism.

Turning back to the "Teaching for Lust" article, Bousquet's comments on Orlova are rather perplexing:
Youtube phenom “Hotforwords” raises the ante on the “teaching for love” canard. In the process, she schools us on how teaching really can realize the administration’s dream in the form of the ultimate “quality” process.
The 27-year-old Russian philologist is a former Ph.D. aspirant and high-school literature teacher with nearly 30 million views of her videos explaining various linguistic puzzles, such as — in the featured clip — how “dope” can mean both stupid and excellent.
One might ask the same about the term “quality,” which for administrators means, well, this.
Seriously, there’s no disputing her metrics. It’s teaching as “vaudeville,” as The New York Times’s Virginia Heffernan points out, but her curriculum is customer-defined and market-oriented. She is a self-funding responsibility center. She gets great student evaluations. Her teaching methods are susceptible to straightforward assessment instruments. There isn’t a “quality” complaint to make about her.
Oh yeah, and it’s totally exploitative, which makes a nice fit with all the outsourcing and permatemping.
Marina’s teaching for love (of fame) is not entirely divorced from the phenomenon that Michelle Masse analyzes as the feminization of the humanities — the reduction of whole fields of faculty work to second-class status by way of the gender economy: part of the cheapening and degradation of the work is the tacit recognition of it as women’s work, as a service, compensated by something other than wages. In connection with her forthcoming SUNY collection Ten Million Served with Katie Hogan, she observes how the call to “service” is one of the most compelling vectors of exploitation in academic life.
Masse points out that “secretary” and “nurse” used to name well-remunerated, well-respected positions for men. Kinda like “professor of language.” Now that it’s women’s work, it’s best done as a kind of lightly-paid volunteerism — for love, or, as in Marina’s, case, something closely allied to it.
Now, Masse's remarks (see link above) seem to be on target, but I'm not sure how this relates to sexed-up YouTube mini-philology, as Bousquet suggests. [Update: Orlova actually replied to Bousquet's commentary: see here.]

Orlova doesn't seem to be teaching just for "love": she's a revenue-sharing YouTube partner, she's signed an endorsement deal with "coComment", and she's published a book with HarperCollins. If she started out teaching for "love (of fame)" as Bousquet argues, I assume it was because she figured she could parlay that fame into money.

But how does this affect academics? Bousquet seems to imply that university administrations are going to outsource philology/historical linguistics to "Hot for Words". Now, admittedly university administrators often make stupid decisions, and many linguistics departments aren't refilling their historical linguistics posts---but I don't think it's because they believe they can outsource philology to Orlova.

I think, rather, such things can act to spark people's interest in a topic, and thus have a positive effect for academics: if even a small percentage of young people who watch Orlova's series become interested in etymology, some of them may decide to enrol in an historical linguistics course that they wouldn't have otherwise. Higher enrolment in historical linguistics courses = less possibility of departments deciding not to refill their historical linguistics positions.

I won't deny the vaudeville-angle of "Hot for Words", but that's why it works of course. I play YouTube clips for my students, like "A Bit of Fry and Laurie (on Language)" during my discussion of generative vs. formulaic language; and this clip from an old Fawlty Towers episode when discussing language contact. The clips don't substitute for course material, but rather supplement it by serving to maintain students' attention and get them interested in the topic we're discussing.

It seems to me that "Hot for Words" does something similar: the scantily-clad buxom blonde draws the audience in, but at least they get taught a bit of etymology. For example, in one video, Orlova answers a viewer's question about whether titillating has anything to do with tits (tits can be titillating is the logic behind the question). Now, obviously in part the viewer's question was motivated by a desire to hear a busty Russian woman talk about tits, but Orlova does answer the question, explaining that titillate derives from Latin titillāre "to tickle", and (briefly) discusses the semantic changes leading to the predominant modern sense. (Her discussion of tits was, I think, a little off, as she derived the word ultimately from Old French tete, tette, taite, but the development appears to be more complicated than that, since Old English has tit(t) and the modern form seems likely to derive from some mixture of both of the Old English and the Old French.)

A parallel that comes to mind is the effect on Anglo-Saxon studies of Beowulf movies--which have also tended to use sex to draw viewers in:
While none of the recent Beowulf-based films are particularly faithful to the original poem, they increase awareness of Beowulf and thus have the potential to raise enrolment in Old English courses.

"Hot for Words" would seem to have a similar potential effect: to arouse interest in philology, and thus perhaps get a few more bodies into historical linguistics classrooms.

Friday, 16 October 2009

A "Likkle" Sound Change in Jamaican Creole English

This semester I decided to include a "reggae segment" to my undergraduate historical linguistics course, where we look at interesting linguistic changes in both Jamaican Creole and in "Dread Talk" (Rastafarian English), as exemplified by audio clips from various reggae songs. So, in addition to going over the traditional examples of sound change like Grimm's Law and Verner's Law, we also looked at sound change in Jamaican Creole. After discussing Verner's Law as a conditioned sound change, I introduced the phonologically-conditioned "likkle law" of Jamaican Creole English: the sound change /t/ > /k/ which occurs in certain words, such as likkle (< little):
“...Well, me said ‘no, no, don’t be like dat’, me likkle heart a pitter-pat...”
My initial characterisation of the conditions on this change was that /t/ became /k/ intervocalically. My guess was that Jamaican Creole English had been based on a vernacular British dialect in which intervocalic /t/ was realised as a glottal stop (/ʔ/); and that glottal /ʔ/ had been approximated in Jamaican Creole by velar /k/. Thus vernacular British English /liʔḷ/ had been approximated in Jamaican Creole by /likḷ/.

However my students--though the class is smaller than usual, they're a bright batch of students--quickly pointed out that pitter didn't undergo the change, and that therefore the conditioning environment appeared to be more restricted.

I went back and checked Cassidy [1]:40 and found that in fact the conditioning environment does indeed seem to be restricted to instances in which /t/ immediately precedes /ḷ/ or /l/. Examples include /sekḷ/ (settle), /brikḷ/ (brittle), /wakḷ/ (wattle), and /wiklo/ (whitlow) [there is also an apparent example of /t/ > /k/ word-finally, in buck for butt (as in what goats do, not the body-part), but maybe this simply reflects semantic change of buck rather than sound change]. But this now looks like a rather unusual sound change. Why should dental/alveolar /t/ become velar /k/? And why particularly before /ḷ/ or /l/?

Even more perplexing is the fact that Cassidy [1]:40 also states that /d/ becomes /g/ in the same environment: /figḷ/ (fiddle), /rigḷ/ (riddle), /ni:gḷ/ (needle), /kyaŋgḷ/ (candle), /haŋgḷ/ (handle), /dwiŋgḷ/ (dwindle) etc. Now the parallelism of voiced dental stop /d/ becoming voiced velar stop /g/ just as voiceless dental stop /t/ becomes voiceless velar stop /k/ is clear, but the reason for these two changes still seemed rather mysterious.

I think I now might have the beginnings of an explanation. Hallé & Best[2] discuss the fact that French listeners tend to perceive illegal /tl/ and /dl/ clusters as /kl/ and /gl/, respectively, suggesting that /dl/, /tl/ undergo “phonotactic perceptual assimilation” to the phonetically most similar permissible clusters. Could this be what happened in Jamaican Creole?

[Update: My advisor Hans Henrich Hock informs me of some parallel changes in other languages involving /tl/ > /kl/, including:

PIE *pōtlom > Pre-Latin *pōklom > Latin pōculum "cup"

And notes other instances of change which serve to avoid /tl/ clusters, including re-syllabification in Spanish, e.g. atlas "atlas" is syllabified as /at.las/, though coplas "verses" is syllabified as /ko.plas/. See Hock [3]:137.

He also points out Sanskrit examples of avoidance of /dl/ clusters, e.g.:

kṣulla < *kṣudla (= l-variant of Skt. kṣudra "small")
bhalla < *bhadla (= l-variant of Skt. bhadra "auspicious, good") ]

References:
[1]Cassidy, Frederic G. 1971. Jamaica Talk: Three hundred years of the English language in Jamaica. London: Macmillan Caribbean, 2nd edn.
[2]Hallé, Pierre A. & Catherine T. Best. 2007. Dental-to-velar perceptual assimilation: A cross-linguistic study of the perception of dental stop+/l/ clusters. Journal of the Acoustic Society of America 121/5: 2889-2914. [draft version here]
[3]Hock, Hans Henrich. 1991. Principles of historical linguistics. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter, 2nd edn.

Thursday, 15 October 2009

"Thrice Honoured Moon": The Mystery of the Nepalese Inscribed Khukuris

The khukuri is a traditional Nepalese knife, and is part of the equipment of Nepalese Gurkha soldiers:


In 2001 I began my collection of Nepalese khukuris with a British Army Service model from Himalayan Imports/BirGorkha Khukuri:


Since then I've collected a number of khukuris, both modern and antique--though this number has been sadly rather small due to my graduate student salary, I have had the opportunity to view a variety of beautiful examples of antique khukuris of my friends on various forums (e.g. Bladeforums, Sword Forum, IKRHS etc.). Some of the most (linguistically) interesting ones began to appear in 2002/3 when Atlanta Cutlery [AC] started selling old khukuris from a hoard they'd acquired from Nepal. A number of these khukuris have were found to have rather mysterious inscriptions in Nepali stamped on the blade spines.


Before turning to how these inscriptions were deciphered, do let's first consider the etymology of khukuri (because this is a linguistics/philology blog after all).

Note: I have never seen an etymology given for Nepali khukuri. Turner [1] in his Indo-Aryan dictionary surprisingly does not treat khukuri (this is particularly surprising since he served as a Gurkha officer). Thus the following etymology is not a rehearsal of any previous study.

The ultimate Proto-Indo-European root of Nepali khukuri (खुकुरी) must be PIE *kes- "to scratch" (see Pokorny [2]:1.585, Watkins [3]:41). It is from the zero-grade form of this root with -eu- extension (i.e. *kseu-) that derive both Greek ξυρόν (ksurόn) "razor" and Sanskrit kṣurá- "razor" (in the Ṛgveda), "sharp barb of an arrow" (in the Rāmāyaṇa), as well as Sanskrit kṣurī "knife, dagger".

From Sanskrit kṣura and kṣurī come a number of words in Modern Indo-Aryan languages for "knife, dagger" [1], though these are mainly ch- forms (rather than kh- forms, see below), and even late Sanskrit shows ch- forms like churī/chūrī "knife, dagger", also churikā- (in the Kathāsaritsāgara). Modern Indo-Aryan forms include: Hindi churā "dagger, razor", Nepali churā "razor", Punjabi churā "large knife", churī "small knife", Gujarati charo "large knife", Bengali churi "knife" (and Assamese suri "knife"), as well as Armenian Gypsy/Romani čhuri "knife" --- and, interestingly, also Sindhi churī "knife with a hooked blade": apparently denoting an object rather like a khukuri!... [Update [16.10.09]: Berkley at IKRHS provides some images of Sindhi knives, some of which are a bit khukuri-shaped, commenting "...All of which leaves the general impression of a large, curved knife, used for chopping and slicing, with a smaller side knife. Sound familiar?"] In any event, Sanskrit kṣurī looks like the most plausible source for Nepali khukuri.

The change from k to kh (in kṣurī > khukuri) reflects a general sound change in Indo-Aryan (cp. Sanskrit kṣétra "field" > Hindi khet), and indeed in Pali we find khura- "razor" (also Pali churikā "knife") and in Prakrit khura- "razor, knife". Modern Indo-Aryan kh- forms [1] include Nepali khuro "head of a spear; ferrule of a stick; pin at the top or bottom of a door", Sindhi khuryo "grass-scraper; tip of silver at the bottom of a scabbard", Assamese & Bengali khur "razor", Oriya khura "razor", Hindi khurā "iron nail used to fix ploughshares", and Sinhala karaya "razor".

Therefore we can derive a hypothetical pre-Nepali form *khurī. At some point this form must have undergone (partial) reduplication of the first syllable, thus *khukhurī. The loss of aspiration of the second kh appears to reflect some dissimilatory process similar to Graßmann's Law, thus khukurī (and this is indeed the Nepali spelling of the word [खुकुरी], however it is pronounced as khukuri, reflecting the more general loss of long:short distinctions for high vowels in spoken Nepali).

Back to the inscriptions on the Atlanta Cutlery [AC] hoard khukuris:

When I (and my fellows on Bladeforums) first saw these khukuris, we noted that the inscriptions had a recurrent pattern, consisting of three parts: (1) the formula श्री ३ चन्द्र [śrī 3 candra], (2) a three digit number [in the form x/xx], and (3) another word or words in Nepali. [Note: these three parts don't always occur in the same order.]

I initially translated the formula śrī 3 candra literally. Now Sanskrit śrī derives from the verb śri "to burn, to flame, to give off light", but śrī itself (as a noun) usually denotes "good luck, fortune, prosperity, auspiciousness", and Śrī is another name for the Goddess Lakshmi, who is the goddess of prosperity. However, śrī is also used as an honorific title; candra means "moon" in Sanskrit. On this basis, I originally translated the formula as "thrice-honoured moon":
[Note that the spelling candra varies quite a bit: from cadra (with no nasal) to caṁdra to candra to caṁndra (hyperform)]

However, perusing Matthews [4]:239, I found that śrī 3 was the title taken by the Rāṇā Prime Ministers of Nepal (and śrī 5 was the title taken taken by the King of Nepal). It then became clear that śrī 3 candra referred to (Śrī 3) Chandra Shamsher Jang Bahadur Rana, who was Prime Minister of Nepal from 27 June 1901 to 26 November 1929, who had his name inscribed thus (śrī 3 candra) on many weapons produced (and/or used?) during this period.

The next piece of the puzzle fell into place during a conversation I had with Jonathan R.S./Spiral(twista) on IKRHS (see here), when the (3) part of one of the inscriptions matched with name in list of Nepalese battalion names (the Bhawānī Dāl battalion):


While some of the inscriptions have the battalion names in full (like the above Bhawānī Dāl), others use only a part of the battalion name (singh for the Singh Nath battalion), or two letter abbreviations (like na.go. for Naya Gorakh battalion, as shown below)--which is why the identification of this part of the inscription was initially difficult.


Benjamin Judkins/Finnarm unraveled the final bit of the mystery of the Nepalese inscriptions (see here for his original post). He discovered in an appendix to Guns of the Gurkhas by John Walter [5] an analysis of the various types of inscriptions found on Nepalese military rifles. Judkins remarks:
The method of marking military material in Nepal was apparently very similar to the system used in the UK. After 1856 the British army went to a system in which first a unit designation was given, followed by a weapon number. Previously a soldier’s identification number had been used. So for instance, Walter states that "13 L D 153" should be read 13th Light Dragoons, 153rd weapon.

The same approach seems to have been adopted in Nepal and many rifles have been positively identified using these principals. It has been used on the kukris as well. The appendix lists the names of about 150 Nepalese battalions, and it gives two letter abbreviations for some of these names that have been employed on rifles.
So the (2) part of the khukuri inscription denotes the sub-unit and weapon number [i.e x/yz = subunit x / weapon no. yz].

Thus these AC khukuri inscriptions follow the pattern:

(1) śrī 3 candra [= Prime Minister Chandra Shamsher Jang Bahadur Rana (r.1901-1929)];

(2) Battalion Name or Abbreviation;

(3) Sub-Unit No./Weapon No. [x/yz].

(Many thanks to my fellow forumites at Bladeforums, IRKHS, and elsewhere for many conversations on these inscriptions over the years; particularly Jonathan R.S./Spiral(twista), Berkley, Rod Allen, & Benjamin Judkins/Finnarm.)

[Update: I've started a (multi-author) repository for khukuri inscriptions here: Khukuri Lipi ]


References:
[1]Turner, Sir Ralph Lilley. 1966-1985. A comparative dictionary of the Indo-Aryan languages. 4 vols. London: Oxford University Press. [reprinted, Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1999.]
[2]Pokorny, Julius. 1958. Indogermanisches etymologisches Wörterbuch. Bern and München: Francke Verlag.
[3]Watkins, Calvert. 2000. The American Heritage dictionary of Indo-European roots. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2nd edn.
[4]Matthews, David. 1998. A course in Nepali. London: Curzon.
[5]Walter, John. 2005. Guns of the Gurkhas. Norwich, Norfolk: Tharston Press.