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CHAPTER II. LEXICAL LEVEL

 

Word and its Semantic Structure.

Connotational Meanings of a Word.

The Role of the Context in the Actualization of Meaning.

 

The idea of previous chapters was to illustrate potential possibilities of linguistic units more primitive than the word, found at lower levels of language structure and yet capable of conveying additional information when foregrounded in a specially organized context.

The forthcoming chapter is going to be one of the longest and most important in this book, for it is devoted to a linguistic unit of major significance — the word, which’names, qualifies and evaluates the micro-and marcrocosm of the surrounding world. The most essential feature of a word is that it expresses the concept of a thing, process, phenomenon, naming (denoting) them. Concept is a logical category, its linguistic counterpart is meaning. Meaning, as the outstanding scholar L. Vygotsky put it, is the unity of generalization, communication and thinking. An entity of extreme complexity, the meaning of a word is liable to historical changes, of which you know from the course of lexicology and which are responsible for the formation of an expanded semantic structure of a word. This structure is constituted of various types of lexical meanings, the major one being denotational, which informs of the subject of communication; and also including connotational, which informs about the participants and conditions of communication.

The list and specifications of connotational meanings vary with different linguistic schools and individual scholars and include such entries as pragmatic (directed at the perlocutionary effect of utterance), associative (connected, through individual psychological or linguistic associations, with related and nonrelated notions), ideological, or conceptual (revealing political, social, ideological preferences of the user), evaluative (stating the value of the indicated notion), emotive (revealing the emotional layer of cognition and perception), expressive (aiming at creating the image of the object in question), stylistic (indicating “the register”, or the situation of the communication).

The above-mentioned meanings are classified as connotational not only because they supply additional (and not the logical/denotational) information, but also because, for the most part, they are observed not all at once and not in all words either. Some of them are more important for the act of communication than the others. Very often they qverlap.

So, all words possessing an emotive meaning are also evaluative (e.g. “rascal”, “ducky”), though this rule is not reversed, as we can find non-emotive, intellectual evaiuation (e.g. “good”, “bad”). Again, all emotive words (or practically all, for that matter) are also expressive, while there are hundreds of expressive words which cannot be treated as emotive (take, for example the so-called expressive verbs, which not only denote some action or process but also create their image, as in “to gulp” = to swallow in big lumps, in a hurry; or “to sprint” = to run fast).



The number, importance and the overlapping character of connotational meanings incorporated into the semantic structure of a word, are brought forth by the context, i.e. a concrete speech act that identifies and actualizes each one. More than that: each context does not only specify the existing semantic (both denotational and connotational) possibilities of a word, but also is capable of adding new ones, or deviating rather considerably from what is registered in the dictionary. Because of that all contextual meanings of a word can never be exhausted or comprehensively enumerated. Compare the following cases of contextual use of the verb “to pop” in Stan Barstow’s novel “Ask Me Tomorrow”:

1. His face is red at first and then it goes white and his eyes stare as if they’ll pop out of his head.

2. “Just pop into the scullery and get me something to stand this on.”

3. “There is a fish and chip shop up on the main road. I thought you might show your gratitude by popping up for some.”

4. “I’ve no need to change or anything then.” “No, just pop your coat on and you’re fine.”

5. “Actually Mrs. Swallow is out. But she won’t be long. She’s popped up the road to the shops.”

6. “Would you like me to pop downstairs and make you a cup of cocoa?”

In the semantic actualization of a word the context plays a dual role: on one hand, it cuts off all meanings irrelevant for the given communicative situation. On the other, it foregrounds one of the meaningful options of a word, focusing the communicators’ attention on one of the denotational or connonational components of its semantic structure.

The significance of the context is comparatively small in the field of stylistic connotations, because the word is labelled stylistically before it enters some context, i.e. in the dictionary: recollect the well-known contractions -vulg., arch., si., etc., which make an indispensable part of a dictionary entry. So there is sense to start the survey of connotational meanings with the stylistic differentiation of the vocabulary.

 

Stylistic Differentiation of the Vocabulary:

Literary Stratum of Words. Colloquial Words

 

The word-stock of any given language can be roughly divided into three uneven groups, differing from each other by the sphere of its possible use. The biggest division is made up of neutral words, possessing no stylistic connotation and suitable for any communicative situation; two smaller ones are literary and colloquial strata respectively.

Literary words serve to satisfy communicative demands of official, scientific, poetic messages, while the colloquial ones are employed in non-official everyday communication. Though there is no immediate correlation between the written and the oral forms of speech on one hand, and the literary and colloquial words, on the other, yet, for the most part, the first ones are mainly observed in the written form, as most literary messages appear in writing. And vice versa: though there are many examples of colloquialisms in writing (informal letters, diaries, certain passages of memoirs, etc.), their usage is associated with the oral form of communication.

Consequently, taking for analysis printed materials we shall find literary words in authorial speech, descriptions, considerations, while colloquialisms will be observed in the types of discourse, simulating (copying) everyday oral communication — i.e., in the dialogue (or interior monologue) pf a prose work.

When we classify some speech (text) fragment as literary or colloquial it does not mean that all the words constituting it have a corresponding stylistic meaning. More than that: words with a pronounced stylistic connotation are few in any type of discourse, the overwhelming majority of its lexis being neutral. As our famous philologist L.V. Shcherba once said — a stylistically coloured word is like a, drop of paint added to a glass of pure water and colouring the whole of it.

Neither of the two named groups of words, possessing a stylistic meaning, is homogeneous as to the quality of the meaning, frequency of use, sphere of application, or the number and character of potential users. This is why each one is further divided into the general, i.e. known to and used by most native speakers in generalized literary (formal) or colloquial (informal) communication, and special bulks. The latter ones, in their turn, are subdivided into subgroups, each one serving a rather narrow; specified communicative purpose.

So, among special literary words, as a rale, at least two major subgroups are mentioned. They are:

1. Terms, i.e. words denoting objects, processes, phenomena of science, humanities, technique.

2. Archaisms, i.e. words, a) denoting historical phenomena which are no more in use (such as “yeoman”, “vassal”, “falconet”). These are historical words.

b) used in poetry in the XVII-XIX cc. (such as “steed” for “horse”; “quoth” for “said”; “woe” for “sorrow”). These are poetic words.

c) in the course of language history ousted by newer synonymic words (such as “whereof = of which; “to deem” = to think; “repast” = meal; “nay” = no) or forms (“maketh” = makes; “thou wilt” = you will; “brethren” = brothers). These are called archaic words (archaic forms) proper.

Literary words, both general (also called learned, bookish, high-flown) and special, contribute to the message the tone of solemnity, sophistication, seriousness, gravity, learnedness. They are used in official papers and documents, in scientific communication, in high poetry, in authorial speech of creative prose.

Colloquial words, on the contrary, mark the message as informal, non-official, conversational. Apart from general colloquial words, widely used by all speakers of the language in their everyday communication (e.g. “dad”, “kid”, “crony”, “fan”, “to pop”, “folks”), such special subgroups may be mentioned:

1. Slang forms the biggest one. Slang words, used by most speakers in very informal communication, are highly emotive and expressive and as such, lose their originality rather fast and are replaced by newer formations. This tendency to synonymic expansion results in long chains of synonyms of various degrees of expressiveness, denoting one and the same concept. So, the idea of a “pretty girl” is worded by more than one hundred ways in slang.

In only one novel by S. Lewis there are close to a dozen synonyms used by Babbitt, the central character, in reference to a girl: “cookie”, “tomato”, “Jane”, “sugar”, “bird”, “cutie”, etc.

The substandard status of slang words and phrases, through universal usage, can be raised to the standard colloquial: “pal”, “chum,” “crony” for “friend”; “heavies”, “woolies” for “thick panties”; “booze” for “liquor”; “dough” for “money”; “how’s tricks” for “how’s life”; “beat it” for “go away” and many many more — are examples of such a transition.

 

2. Jargonisms stand close to slang, also being substandard, expressiveand emotive, but, unlike slang they are used by limited groups of people,united either professionally (in this case we deal with professionalJargonisms, or professionalisms), or socially (here we deal withjargonisms proper). In distinction from slang, Jargonisms of both typescover a narrow semantic field: in the first case it is that, connected withthe technical side of some profession. So, in oil industry, e.g., for theterminological “driller” ) there exist “borer”, “digger”,”wrencher”, “hogger”, “brake weight”; for “pipeliner” - “swabber”, “bender”, “cat”, “old cat”, “collar-pecker”, “hammerman”;for “geologist” — “smeller”, “pebble pup”, “rock hound”, “witcher”, etc.From all the examples at least two points are evident: professionalismsare formed according to the existing word-building patterns or presentexisting words in new meanings, and, covering the field of specialprofessional knowledge, which is semantically limited, they offer a vastvariety of synonymic choices for naming one and the same professionalitem.

Jargonisms proper are characterized by similar linguistic features, but differ in function and sphere of application. They originated from the thieves’ jargon (l’argo, cant) and served to conceal the actual significance of the utterance from the uninitiated. Their major function thus was to be cryptic, secretive. This is why among them there are cases of conscious deformation of the existing words. The so-called back jargon (or back slang) can serve as an example: in their effort to conceal the machinations of dishonest card-playing, gamblers used numerals in their reversed form: “ano” for “one”, “owt” for “two”, “erth” for “three”.

Anglo-American tradition, starting with E. Partridge, a famous English lexicographer, does not differentiate between slang and Jargonisms regarding these groups as one extensive stratum of words divided into general slang, used by all, or most, speakers and special slang, limited by the professional or social standing of the speaker. This debate appears to concentrate more on terminology than on essence. Indeed slang (general slang) and jargonisms (special slang) have much in common: are emotive, expressive, unstable, fluctuating, tending to expanded synonymity within certain lexico-semantic groups and limited to a highly informal, substandard communication. So it seems appropriate to use the indicated terms as synonyms.

3. Vulgarisms are coarse words with a strong emotive meaning, mostly derogatory, normally avoided in polite conversation. History of vulgarisms reflects the history of social ethics. So, in Shakespearian times people were much more linguistically frank and disphemistic in their communication than in the age of Enligtenment or the Victorian era, famous for its prudish and reserved manners. Nowadays words which were labelled vulgar in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries are considered such no more. In fact, at present we are faced with the reverse of the problem: there are practically no words banned from use by the modern permissive society. Such intensifiers as “bloody”, “damned”, “cursed”, “hell of”, formerly deleted from literature and not allowed in conversation, are not only welcomed in both written and oral speech, but, due to constant repetition, have lost much of their emotive impact and substandard quality. One of the best-known American editors and critics Maxwell Perkins, working with the serialized 1929 magazine edition of Hemingway’s novel A Farewell to Arms found that the publishers deleted close to a dozen words which they considered vulgar for the publication. Preparing the hard-cover edition Perkins allowed half of them back (“son of a bitch”, “whore”, “whorehound,” etc.). Starting from the late fifties no publishing house objected to any coarse or obscene expressions. Consequently, in contemporary West European and American prose all words, formerly considered vulgar for public use (including the four-letter words), are accepted by the existing moral and ethical standards of society and censorship.

4. Dialectal words are normative and devoid of any stylistic meaning in regional dialects, but used outside of them, carry a strong flavour of the locality where they belong. In Great Britain four major dialects are distinguished: Lowland Scotch, Northern, Midland (Central) and Southern. In the USA three major dialectal varieties are distinguished: New England, Southern and Midwestern (Central, Midland). These classifications do not include many minor local variations Dialects markedly differ on the phonemic level: one and the same phoneme is differently pronounced in each of them. They differ also on the lexical level, having their own names for locally existing phenomena and also supplying locally circulating synonyms for the words, accepted by the language in general. Some of them have entered the general vocabulary and lost their dialectal status (“lad”, “pet”, “squash”, “plaid”).

Each of the above-mentioned four groups justifies its label of special colloquial words as each one, due to varying reasons, has application limited to a certain group of people or to certain communicative situations.

 

ASSIGNMENTS FOR SELF-CONTROL

 

 1. What can you say about the meaning of a word and its relation to the concept of an object (entity)?

 2 What types of lexical meaning do you know and what stipulates their existence and differentiation?

 3 What connotational meanings do you know? Dwell on each of them, providing your own examples.

 4. What is the role of the context in meaning actualization?

 5. What registers of communication are reflected in the stylistic-differentiation of the vocabulary?

 6. Speak about general literary words illustrating your elaboration with examples from nineteenth- and twentieth-century prose.

 7. What are the main subgroups of special literary words?

 8 What do you know of terms, their structure, meaning, functions?

 9. What are the fields of application of archaic words and forms?

10. Can you recognize general colloquial words in a literary text? Where do they mainly occur?

11. What are the main characteristics of slang?

12. What do you know of professional and social jargonisms?

13. What connects the stock of vulgarisms and social history?

14. What is the place and the role of dialectal words in the national language? in the literary text?

15. To provide answers to the above questions find words belonging to different stylistic groups and subgroups:

a) in the dictionary, specifying its stylistic mark (“label”);

b) in your reading material, specifying the type of discourse, where you found it -authorial speech (narration description, philosophising) or dialogue.

 

EXERCISES

 

I. State the type and function of literary words in the following examples:

 1. “I must decline to pursue this painful discussion. It is not pleasant to my feelings; it is repugnant to my feelings.” (D.)

 

 2. “I am not in favour of this modern mania for turning bad people into good people at a moment’s notice. As a man sows so let him reap.” (O.W.)

 

 3. Isolde the Slender had suitors in plenty to do her lightest hest. Feats of arms were done daily for her sake. To win her love suitors were willing to vow themselves to perdition. But Isolde the Slender was heedless of the court thus paid to her. (L.)

 

 4. “He of the iron garment,” said Daigety, entering, “is bounden unto you, MacEagh, and this noble lord shall be bounden also.” (W.Sc.)

 

 5. If manners maketh man, then manner and grooming maketh poodle. (J. St.)

 

 6. “Thou art the Man,” cried Jabes, after a solemn pause, leaning over his cushion. “Seventy times didst thou gapingly contort thy visage — seventy times seven did I take council with my soul — Lo! this is human weakness: this also may be absolved. The first of the seventy first is come. Brethren — execute upon him the judgement written. Such honour have all His saints.” (E. Br.)

 

 7. At noon the hooter and everything died. First, the pulley driving the punch and shears and emery wheels stopped its lick and slap. Simultaneously the compressor providing the blast for a dozen smith-fires went dead. (S. Ch.)

 

 8. “They’re real!” he murmured. “My God, they are absolutely real!” Erik turned. “Didn’t you believe that the neutron existed?” “Oh, I believed,” Fabermacher shrugged away the praise. “To me neutrons were symbols ë with a mass of Mn = 1.008. But until now I never saw them.” (M.W.)

 

 9. Riding back I saw the Greeks lined up in column of march. They were all still there. Also, all armed. On long marches when no action threatened, they had always piled their armour, helmets and weapons in their carts, keeping only their swords; wearing their short tunics (made from all kinds of stuff, they had been so long from home) and the wide straw hats Greeks travel in, their skins being tender to sun. Now they had on corselets or cuirasses, helmets, even grades if they owned them, and their round shields hung at their backs. (M.R.)

 

10. There wasn’t a man-boy on this ground tonight did not have a shield he cast, riveted or carved himself on his way to his first attack, compounded of remote but nonetheless firm and fiery family devotion, flag-blown patriotism and cocksure immortality strengthened by the touchstone of very real gunpowder, ramrod minnie-ball and flint. (R.Br.)

 

11.  Into the organpipes and steeples

Of the luminous cathedrals,

Into the weathercocks’ molten mouths

Rippling in twelve-winded circles,

Into the dead clock burning the hour

Over the urn of sabbaths...

Erupt, fountain, and enter to utter for ever

Glory glory glory

The sundering ultimate kingdom of genesis’ thunder.

(D. Th.)

 

12. If any dispassionate spectator could have beheld the countenance of the illustrious man, whose name forms the leading feature of the title of this work, during the latter part of this conversation, he would have been almost induced to wonder that the indignant fire that flashed from his eyes, did not melt the glasses of his spectacles — so majestic was his wrath. His nostrils dilated, and his fists clenched involuntarily, as he heard himself addressed by the villain. But he restrained himself again -he did not pulverize him.

“Here,” continued the hardened traitor tossing the licence at Mr. Pickwick’s feet; “get the name altered — take home the lady — do for Tuppy.” (D.)

 

II. Think of the type of additional information about the speaker or communicative situation conveyed by the following general and special colloquial words:

 1. “She’s engaged. Nice guy, too. Though there’s a slight difference in height. I’d say a foot, her favor.” (T.C.)

 2. “You know Brooklyn?”

“No. I was never there. But I had a buddy at Myer was from Brooklyn.” (J.)

 3. I didn’t really do anything this time. Just pulled the dago out of the river. Like all dagos, he couldn’t swim. Well, the fellow was sort of grateful about it. Hung around like a dog. About six months later he died of fever. I was with him. Last thing, just as he was pegging out, he beckoned me and whispered some excited jargon about a secret (Ch.)

 4. “Here we are now,” she cried, returning with the tray. “And don’t look so miz.” (P.)

 5. “What’s the dif,” he wanted to know. (Th.S.)

 6. Going down the stairs he overheard one beanied freshman he knew talking to another. “Did you see that black cat with the black whiskers who had those binocks in front of us? That’s my comp ðrîf.” (Â. Ì.)

 7. “Don’t you intend to get married?” asked Eugene curiously. “I don’t know,” she replied, “I’d want to think about that. A woman-artist is in a d — of a position anyway,” using the letter d only to indicate the word “devil”. (Dr.)

 8. “There we were... in the hell of a country — pardon me — a country of raw metal.

…It’s like a man of sixty looking down his nose at a youth of thirty and there’s no such God-darned — pardon me — mistake as that. (G.)

 9. “All those medical bastards should go through the ops they put other people through. Then they wouldn’t talk so much bloody nonsense or be so damnably unutterably smug.” (D. C.)

10. “I thought of going to the flicks,” she said. “Or we could go for a walk if it keeps fine.” (J.Br.)

11. “Let me warn you that the doc is a frisky bacheldore, Carol. Come on, now, folks, shake a leg. Let’s have some stunts or a dance or something.” (S.L.)

12. “Goddamn sonofabitching stool,” Fishbelly screamed, raining blows on Bert’s head. “Lawd Gawd in heaven, I’ll kill, kill every chink-chink goddamn chinaman white man on this sonofabitching bastard earth.” (Wr.)

13. There was a fearful mess in the room, and piles of unwashed crocks in the kitchen. (A. T.)

14. “Of course I’ve spent nine years around the Twin Cities — took my B.A. and M.D. over at the U, and had my internship in a hospital in Minneapolis.” (S.L.)

15. “How long did they cook you?” Dongeris stopped short and looked at him. “How long did they cook you?” “Since eight this morning. Over twelve hours.” “You didn’t unbutton then? After twelve hours of it?”

“Me? They got a lot of dancing to do before they’ll get anything out of me.” (Ò. Í.)

16. “Nix on that,” said Roy. “I don’t need a shyster quack to shoot me full of confidence juice. I want to go through on my own steam.” (B. M.)

17. “Go in there, you slob. I hope you get a hell of a lot of fun out of it. He looks too damned sick.” (H.)

18. Just then Taylor comes down. “Shut up and eat,” my mother says to him before he can open his mouth. In less than five minutes my father is back. “Keep the kids home,” he says.

“My God,” my mother says wearily, “them under foot all day.” (Sh. Gr.)

19. “Don’t wanna sleep, Don’t wanna die, just wanna go a-travelin’ through the pastures of the sky.” (T.C.)

20. “Never heard anything so bloody daft in all my life.” (J.Br.)

21. “You know. The mummies — them dead guys that get buried in them toons and all.” (S.)

22. His expenses didn’t go down... washing cost a packet, and you’d be surprised the amount of linen he needed. (S.M.)

23. “We’ll show Levenford what my clever lass can do. I’m looking ahead, and I can see it. When we’ve made ye the head scholar of the Academy, then you’ll see what your father means to do wi’ you. But ye must stick in to your lessons, stick in hard.” (A. C.)

24. Wee modest crimson tipped flow’r,

Thou’s met me in an evil hour;

For I maun crash amang the stoure

Thy slender stem:

To spare thee now is past my pow’r

Thou bonnie gem.

(R. B.)

25. “That’s so, my lord. I remember having tae du much the same thing, mony years since, in an inquest upon a sailing vessel that ran aground in the estuary and got broken up by bumping herself to bits in a gale. The insurance folk thocht that the accident wasna a’tegither straightforward. We tuk it upon oorsels tae demonstrate that wi’ the wind and tide setti’ as they did, the boat should ha’ been wellaway fra’ the shore if they started at the hour they claimed tae ha’ done. We lost the case, but I’ve never altered my opeenion.” (D.S.)

 

III. Compare the neutral and the colloquial (or literary) modes of expression:

 1. “Also it will cost him a hundred bucks as a retainer.”

“Huh?” Suspicious again. Stick to basic English.

“Hundred dollars,” I said. “Iron men. Fish. Bucks to the number of one hundred. Me no money, me no come. Savvy?” I began to count a hundred with both hands. (R.Ch.)

 2. “...some thief in the night boosted my clothes whilst I slept. I sleep awful sound on the mattresses you have here.” “Somebody boosted...?” “Pinched. Jobbed. Swiped. Stole,” he says happily. (K.K.)

 3. “Now take fried, crocked, squiffed, loaded, plastered, blotto, tiddled, soaked, boiled, stinko, viled, polluted.”

“Yes,” I said.

“That’s the next set of words I am decreasing my vocabulary by”, said Atherton. “Tossing them all out in favor of-”

“Intoxicated?” I supplied.

“I favor fried,” said Atherton. “It’s shorter and monosyllabic, even though it may sound a little harsher to the squeamish-minded.”

“But there are degrees of difference,” I objected. “Just being tiddled isn’t the same as being blotto, or-”

“When you get into the vocabulary-decreasing business,” he interrupted, “you don’t bother with technicalities. You throw out the whole kit and caboodle — I mean the whole bunch,” he hastily corrected himself. (P.G.W.)

 4. “Do you talk?” asked Bundle. “Or are you just strong and silent?” “Talk?” said Anthony. “I, burble. I murmur. I gurgle — like a running brook, you know. Sometimes I even ask questions.” (Ch.)

 5. “So you’ll both come to dinner? Eight fifteen. Dinny, we must be back to lunch. Swallows,” added Lady Mont round the brim of her hat and passed out through the porch.

“There’s a house-party,” said Dinny to the young man’s elevated eyebrows. “She means tails and a white tie.”

“Oh! Ah! Best bib and tucker, Jean.” (G.)

 6. “What do you really contemplate doing?” “No Plaza? Not even when I’m in the ohips?” “Why are you so rich?” (J.O’H.)

 7. “Obviously an emissary of Mr. Bunyan had obtained clandestine access to her apartment in her absence and purloined the communication in question.” It took Lord Uffenham some moments to work this out, but eventually he unravelled it and was able to translate it from his butler’s language. What the man was trying to say was that some low blister, bought with Bunyan’s gold, had sneaked into the girl’s flat and pinched the bally things. (P.G.W.)

 8. ’’I say, old boy, where do you hang out?” Mr. Pickwick responded that he was at present suspended at the George and Vulture. (D.)

 9. “The only thing that counts in his eyes is solid achievement. Sometimes I have been prostrate with fatigue. He calls it idleness. I need the stimulation of good company. He terms this riff-raff. The plain fact is, I am misunderstood.” (D. du M.)

10. “The scheme I would suggest cannot fail of success, but it has what may seem to you a drawback, sir, in that it requires a certain financial outlay.”

“He means,” I translated to Corky, “that he has a pippin of an idea but it’s going to cost a bit.” (P.G.W.)

11. Mrs. Sunbury never went to bed — she retired, but Mr. Sunbury who was not quite so refined as his wife always said: “Me for Bedford.” (S.M.)

12. “He tried those engineers. But no soap. No answer.” (J.O’H.)

13. “You want to know what I think? I think you’re nuts. Pure plain crazy. Goofy as a loon. That’s what I think.” (J.)

14. The famous Alderman objected to the phrase in Canning’s inscription for a Pitt Memorial “He died poor” and wished to substitute “He expired in indigent circumstances.” (Luc.)

15. “I am Alpha and Omega — the first and the last,” the solemn voice would announce. (D. du M.)

16. The tall man ahead of him half-turned saying “Gre’t God! I never, I never in all my days seen so many folks.” Mr. Munn thought that he, too, had never seen so many people, never before. (R.W.)

17. It may sound to some like cold-blooded murder of the English tongue, but American kids have been speaking a language of their own since they annoyed their Pilgrim parents at Plymouth Rock.

Ask a teen-ager today what he thought of last night’s rock show. If he liked it, it was “wicked” or “totally awesome”. But if he didn’t, it was “groady” or “harsh”.

Young people punctuate their sentences with slang. They drop phrases that would make Professor Henry Higgins turn over in his grave. Twice.

“It’s just like a dictionary that only teen-agers understand,” said Michael Harris, 17, a high school student in Richmond, Va. “You go home and you have to spell it for your parents. They don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

But this has been going on for years. Slang is as old as English itself, says Stuart Berg Flexner, editor-in-chief of the Random House Dictionary, author of the Dictionary of American Slang.

It offended puritan parents that their Pilgrim children took their traditional farewell — God be with you — and turned it into “good-bye”, Flexner says.

Today’s words are obsolete tomorrow.

“I may call somebody a jerk, but today they would call him a nerd,” says Flexner, 54. “Each generation seems to want to have some of its own words.”

“It’s not so much to shut out adults — although that’s a part of it. It gives them identity with their own age group. They sort of belong to their own club,” he says.

There is valleytalk and preppyspeak, jocktalk and street language.

Take Moon Unit Zappa’s Valley Talk. The daughter of famed rocker Frank Zappa was 14 years old when her dad sat her before a microphone and documented her language in a pop song.

“Gag me with a spoon,” she says to show disgust. “Groady to themax.”

Legions of youngsters across America picked it up. The song, and language, was a coast-to-coast hit. But that killed it.

“Valley Speak is out,” reports Jane Segal, 16, a reformed Valley Girl at Santa Monica High School. “It went out after the song was played to death. It was really popular, and then everyone got so sick of the stupid song they quit saying that stuff.”

“No one ever says ’Gag me’ anymore,” she says. “’Totally’ is still hanging on, and everyone uses’ “like”. They say it everywhere, just sprinkle it in. I do it subconsciously, I use it like “um.”

Flexner considers slang.a reflection of American pop culture. Words come and go like No. 1 hit songs. Once a word is widely known it may be dropped, relegated to the used-slang bin alongside “swell” from the ’50s and “groovy” from the ’60s.

Others stick around like golden oldies.

“There are classics. Once” a good phrase comes along it’s pretty hard to replace it,” says Scott Wenger, 19, a New York University student. “Flipped” out still means crazy and “pulling an allnighter” still means to study.hard until all hours of the morning for exams.”

Teen-agers may dream up slang, but adults use it too. Julia Shields, 42, a high school English teacher in Charlottesville, Va., is an avowed user.

“I love slang, think it’s colorful, wonderful, metaphoric. Some of it is quite clever,” she says. “I hate it, but I call everything “neat”. It’s such a horrible, vague, meaningless word. But I use it in every sentence.”

Slang is not the talk of board rooms and diplomatic sessions. Because young people spend more time informally than adults, and slang is a product of relaxing the rules, high schools and college campuses are breeding grounds for it. (C. R.)

 

IV. Speak about the difference between the contextual and the dictionary meanings of italicized words:

 1. Mr. James Duffy lived in Chapelizod because he wished to live as far as possible from the city of which he was the citizen and because he found all the other suburbs of Dublin mean, modern and pretentious. (J.J.)

 2. He does all our insurance examining and they say he’s some doctor. (S.L.)

 3. He seemed prosperous, extremely married and unromantic. (S.L.)

 4. “What do you think?” The question pops their heads up. (K.K.)

 5. We tooled the car into the street and eased it into the ruck of folks. (R.W.)

 6. He inched the car forward. (A.H.)

 7. “Of course it was considered a great chance for me, as he is so rich. And — and — we drifted into a sort of understanding — I suppose I should call it an engagement -”

“You may have drifted into it; but you will bounce out of it, my pettikins, if I am to have anything to do with it.” (B.Sh.)

 8. He sat with the strike committee for many hours in a smoky room and agonized over ways and means. (M.G.)

 9. Betty loosed fresh tears. (Jn.B.)

10. When the food came, they wolfed it down rapidly. (A.M.)

11. He had seen many places and been many things railroad foreman, plantation overseer, boss mechanic, cow-puncher, and Texas deputy-sheriff. (J.R.)

12 Station platforms were such long, impersonal, dirty, ugly things, with too many goodbyes, lost hearts, and tears stamped into the concrete paving. (A. S.)

13. “Let me say, Virginia, that I consider your conduct most unbecoming. Nor at all that of a pure young widow.”

“Don’t be an idiot. Bill. Things are happening.”

“What kind of things?”

“Queer things.” (Ch.)

14. I need young critical things like you to punch me up. (S.L.)

15. Oh! the way the women wear their prettiest every thing’ (T.C.)

 


Date: 2015-02-03; view: 1639


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