Thu 12 Feb 2009
Kiri alerted me to the extremely geeky-fun and addictive site Save the Words. As Kiri said, “someone went to a lot of trouble to set this up.” Check out and enjoy!
5 Responses to “Save the Words”
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February 13th, 2009 at 3:19 am
I find this site intriguing, both visually and in terms of its motivation. The geeky part of me that loves obscure tidbits and specialized vocabulary immediately perked up and got excited at the idea of digging through piles of vintage, out-of-vogue words, to hunt for little treasures. But then I paused. Although the site positions the words as in need of your care and “adoption” to make them (effectively) live again, what really is gained by this? We create new words all the time, some of which are tightly bound to transient fads. Does the simple fact of having once existed create some obligation that a word be preserved past its natural lifespan? Words are used to express meaning, and lack of use would seem to indicate lack of need.
Of course, it’s always possible for a thing unneeded now to become re-needed in the future. And it’s so wonderful to discover a mot juste or appreciate someone’s clever coinage. But in some ways this idea of “saving” old words reminds me of the debate between prescriptive and descriptive theories of language. The rule-stickler in me loves the idea of adhering to how words “should” be spelled, or used, or pronounced (having a stable authority to appeal to is so comforting). But I’ve been forced to admit that language exists for a purpose, and when it serves that purpose (communication), it’s still valid language, even if misspelled, misspoken, or expressed in IM-speak.
That said, I felt an immediate affinity for the word Elizabeth suggested I might like to adopt: “sparsile: of a star, not related to any constellation.” :)
February 13th, 2009 at 12:03 pm
I completely agree with Kiri’s point about words dying out as a natural and acceptable process. I’ve often thought about this when reading, with my dictionary at my side, certain authors who use the full arsenal of vocabulary, current and obscure (Michael Chabon and Umberto Eco both spring to mind). Although I admire and enjoy this kind of writing, I don’t generally bother to memorize the vocabulary that I learn this way, simply because, to me, knowing a word is useless if no one around me knows it, too. If someone tosses around high vocabulary simply to impress and educate me…well…he had better be Michael Chabon or Umberto Eco. :)
As for the point that lanuguage that communicates is automatically “valid language”…as you can imagine, the editor in me rebels. I see a healthy tension at work between the vibrant, informal, ever-changing force of language as it’s used in ordinary life, and the rule-based, formal insistence of language experts. Without the former, our language would become dull and fail to serve our needs. But without the latter, I feel strongly that we would lose the beauty, order, and mutual comprehensibility of language, leaving us to babble like so many Gauls and Franks and Wisigoths. :) And that would, like, totally suck.
What I most love about the “Save the Words” site is the geeky exuberance behind it. These people clearly love words, and if they reckon they can save some good ones, well, it’s a pleasure to watch them try.
February 15th, 2009 at 2:43 pm
The editor in me has already joined forces with the editor in Elizabeth and is forever champing at the bit to right all the wrongs and get people’s writing and speech properly in line! Every now and then this sort of issue comes up and I again aware of being torn on the subject — my inner editor versus my inner live-and-let-live practicalist.
In fact, the best resolution I’ve ever gotten on this issue is one that came up in a discussion a while back with Elizabeth. While there may be nothing “wrong” with poorly formatted language (e.g., IM-speak) from a functionality point of view (that is, it gets its raw meaning across), there can still be an excellent reason to prefer accurate spelling, pronunciation, and so on. That reason is style. When we create a sentence, we are adorning a thought by putting it in a specific form, exactly like we choose certain clothes and accessories for our bodies. That choice is individual and personal, but it inevitably creates a distinctive impression. We choose what impression we wish to make by the form in which we clothe our ideas.
[P.S. Apparently "practicalist", which I used above, is not a word. On the other hand, I doubt anyone was unsure what I meant by it here. I guess the strait-laced image I was otherwise projecting is now also decorated with a nose-ring or partially hidden tattoo. ;) ]
February 20th, 2009 at 9:00 pm
“Pragmatist” may be the word that saves you from the tattoo needle. ;)
Indirectly, I have my sister to thank for that credo about style. When we were teenagers, she used to tease me about fretting over what to wear to parties and dates (she herself was of the “wear whichever t-shirt is clean” school of fashion). “Guys don’t notice what you wear,” she lectured with all the wisdom of her three years’ seniority, “ask them tomorrow what you were wearing and they will have no clue.” This sounded true to me, but it didn’t explain why I got more dates. :) What I figured out is this: They won’t remember what you wore, but they’ll remember how you looked.
I believe the same about the quotidian prose we “dress” our thoughts in — e-mail, letters, text messages. People might not remember what you said, but they’ll remember how you came across. And that vague impression is where style lives.
February 27th, 2009 at 3:17 pm
That’s a great story! I love the clothing analogy, and I think it’s definitely true. I do have one co-worker who apparently mentally catalogs my entire wardrobe, because invariably if I wear a new shirt to work, he instantly notices and comments. (This never ceases to amaze me, because *I* don’t notice that sort of clothing detail for him (or anyone else).) But most other people only seem to make general observations, like “Hey, you look dressed up today,” if your overall “style” has changed for the more formal (e.g., to give a talk or attend an important meeting).
One place where the analogy no longer fits (in a happy sense) is that (unless we make our own clothes) we are constrained to assemble our style from the collection of clothes available for purchase, while we can assemble our thoughts freely in any form imaginable. Thank goodness!