Wikipedia:Reference desk/Archives/Language/2009 February 2

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February 2

Huddling together of words with very different meanings

Since I'm not a native speaker, I sometimes experience misunderstandings in English which may not be as common to native speakers.

Once I was in London and asked a cab driver how much it was to Heathrow. "£15", I heard — only to realize that it was "£50" when we arrived.

Yesterday, my girlfriend called me from the store to find out which cough drops I wanted. She mentioned A, B, C, and D. I said "Get A". She got B, C, and D — she had heard me say "Forget A".

Another example would be the words "can" and "can't".

Getting to my question: We know that languages evolve. If two words or language constructs that are commonly used in sentences where one could replace the other have very different or even opposite meaning, then I would expect them to move apart from each other. Instead, they remain close or (in the case of "can't") have even moved closer. Why?

Is that phenomenon stronger in English than in other languages? It seems to me English has more instances of this than other languages. (I'm aware of "zwei" ~ "drei" and "Juni" ~ "Juli" in German, and "买" ~ "卖" and "一" ~ "亿" in Chinese, but there exist official alternative disambiguating pronunciations for at least three of the four pairs; while English doesn't seem to mind.) — Sebastian 02:31, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

Just one comment. In British/Commonwealth English, can is pronounced "kan", and can't is pronounced "kahnt", so there's no problem. But I see your general problem. This issue is the root cause of mondegreens. -- JackofOz (talk) 03:18, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

Oh, yes, mondegreens are funny. The most famous one on this side of the pond is probably "I let the pigeons to the flag". But those are just random coincidences, which is inevitable in any natural language. What I'm wondering about are words that are frequently used, and often occur in interchangeable positions. — Sebastian 03:28, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

English has million and billion; also, hither and thither (where th is voiced in each occurrence like the th in there).

French has dessus ("above") and dessous ("below").

-- Wavelength (talk) 03:40, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

When giving out my phone number, or any reference number, I'm always careful to pronounce 0 as "zero" not "oh", because the latter can sound too close to "eight", particularly over the phone, particularly in Australian drawl. -- JackofOz (talk) 04:11, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

Same applies to the letters M and N, and F and S. That's why the police and others use that code thing rather than saying the names of letters. -- JackofOz (talk) 22:44, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

In the South (US) there's always an opportunity to mix up "Sweet" and "unsweet" tea. If you're thinking hot tea you'd better point that out specifically. 76.97.245.5 (talk) 07:20, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

"I let the pigeons to the flag".? I never heard that before, and I'm on the same side of the pond as Sebastian is, so it can't be that famous. The most famous one I can think of is "'Scuse me while I kiss this guy." AnyPerson (talk) 20:36, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

I've never heard that either. I'd say it's got a healthy bit of Spoonerism in it. --LarryMac | Talk 15:33, 3 February 2009 (UTC)

English has dog, frog, and hog; bat, cat, and rat; cow and sow; louse and mouse; lice and mice; goose and moose; fox and ox; porpoise and tortoise; guppy and puppy; goose and mongoose; lion and sea lion (and other examples with sea--check the dictionary for words starting with sea); beagle, eagle, and seagull; calf and giraffe; mole and vole (and foal); lamb and ram; clam and salmon; auk and hawk; pigeon and widgeon; bear, hare, and mare; buck and duck; beech and birch; pine and vine; berry and cherry; lilac and violet (colors and flowers); Sunday, Monday, and someday; September and December; eye and thigh; ear and beard; nose and toes; lip and hip; gum and thumb; tongue and lung; chin, shin, and skin; breast and chest; artery and heart rate

French has est ("east") and ouest ("west"); nez ("nose") and oreille ("ear"); joue ("cheek") and genou ("knee"); dent ("tooth") and langue ("tongue"); bras ("arm") and doigt ("finger"); les héros (no liaison) ("the heroes") and les zéros ("the zeroes", "the nothings").

Italian has sei ("six") and tre ("three").

Portuguese has leste ("east") and oeste ("west"); seis ("six") and três ("three").

Spanish has este ("east") and oeste ("west"); seis ("six") and tres ("three").

German has auf ("on", etc.) and aus ("out of", etc.) and their compounds.

Latin has ab ("from") and ad ("toward") and some of their compounds.

Russian has девять ("nine") and десять ("ten").

Japanese has ichi ("one"), shi ("four") and shichi ("seven").

-- Wavelength (talk) 04:24, 3 February 2009 (UTC)

Beagle and Eagle DO NOT rhyme with Seagull, in British English.

Givnan, I did not intend to suggest exact rhyming in each example set of words, but only similarity that might cause misunderstanding as described by the original poster.

-- Wavelength (talk) 15:50, 3 February 2009 (UTC)

This reminds me of a recent discussion about translating the text of a language map. See Wikipedia:Reference desk/Archives/Language/2009 January 11 (section "File Translation Needed"). It was pointed out that "American languages" did not constitute a language family. Most of the language groups shown on the map happened to be language families, but nothing ever said and nobody ever said that every language group on the map was a language family.

It also reminds me of another recent discussion, about the use of the definite article by men and women. See Wikipedia:Reference desk/Archives/Language/2008 December 15 (section 'Use of "the" at the delicatessen'). It was suggested that speaking in a certain way was to be avoided if most people of the same gender did not speak in that way, and especially if most people of the opposite gender did speak in that way. There seems to be a tendency to think: "Most do, therefore all do (or should do)".

-- Wavelength (talk) 17:24, 3 February 2009 (UTC)

Thanks for all your examples! I think we all agree that the phenomenon does appear in many languages. Can we now proceed to the initial question, please:

Given that the purpose of any a language is to be understood, and given that languages evolve: Wouldn't we expect such mimicry to die out in the survival of the fittest? Out of a million times the word "can't" is used (in American English), I bet there's less than a handful cases in which the speaker actually has an interest to make it sound like "can". So why do the remaining 999,995 speakers do it? — Sebastian 00:14, 4 February 2009 (UTC)

Now I'm not sure I'm understanding your question, Sebastian. Except in some very specific contexts, we don't avoid the use of certain words just because they might, if not clearly enunciated, sound like other words. Does "can't" sound that close to "can" (both in American English) to your ears? Maybe where the next word starts with a t, there's a stronger possibility of confusion. But in general they're distinguishable enough if people speak clearly enough. If they're not speaking clearly, then almost anything they say could be misinterpreted. -- JackofOz (talk) 02:39, 4 February 2009 (UTC)

Clearly, there is a scale of confusability. "'Tis not" is less likely to be confused with "it is" than "it isn't". What explains the "survival of the least fit?" Or, to use someone else's example: In Old English, the two words "bōc" and "birce" sounded quite distinct. Why would they evolve to two words that can be easier confused (beech and birch), rather than in the opposite direction? But my question is not just about individual words. There may be reasons for each mutation of a word, but that doesn't explain it; any more than you can explain why Geospiza magnirostris has a big bill, just by explaining the mutations individual ancestors of that bird experienced. You would miss the core of natural selection. — Sebastian 07:30, 4 February 2009 (UTC)

I don't think any explanation is required. The evolution of language is not like the evolution of animals, so Darwinian theory is not relevant. Beech and birch are still quite distinct. I think you're giving insufficient credit to the human ear's ability to discern fine gradations of sound. There are only a certain number of combinations of possible sounds in a given language, but millions of distinct words, so we have to make do. That's why, for example, we have many homophones. They're not usually confused, because we almost always have context to guide us. If I asked two people, out loud and context-free, to spell a word that sounded like "meet", one would be justified in replying "M-E-E-T", and the other would be just as justified in saying "M-E-A-T". But within a context, we know which word is being used. Same with words that are not strict homophones but sound similar. If the speaker is using a reasonable degree of enunciation, and if the listener has reasonable hearing, then "sly", "fly", "fry" and "fie" would not be confused. I'm sure there are examples of word pairs that were once pronounced quite differently (to each other) but have evolved into homophones or near homophones. We can deal with that quite effectively, thanks to context. And many that have gone the other way. I'm no scientist, but I suspect the evolution of language in its fine detail is much more complex than animal and human evolution (not sure how you'd actually measure that), so I wouldn't expect any sort of linearity. It's all over the place, because of the multitude of factors that cause words and grammatical constructs to change. They change for different reasons, at different rates, at different times; some change many times in a relatively short period, some have stayed untouched for a millennium (or however long English has been in existence). -- JackofOz (talk) 08:17, 4 February 2009 (UTC)

There might be some helpful information at Phonological change.

-- Wavelength (talk) 21:35, 4 February 2009 (UTC)

Remarrying

I often come across passages in biographical articles that tell us that the subject's spouse had died or they divorced, and now the subject is marrying again. The issue is the way the verb "remarry" is used.

This is normally an intransitive verb:

"In 1958, feeling sexually frustrated, she remarried",

except when they remarry the person they previously divorced:

"Elizabeth Taylor remarried Richard Burton".

When it's a different person, which is the bulk of the cases, there's a clash between "She married Larry Fortensky" and "She remarried". They can't really be put into the same construction without offending the rules of grammar; or without incorrectly suggesting she'd previously been married to Fortensky. Or can they? And if they're separated, it's clunky at best: "In 1843 she remarried, her new husband being Baron Schmidt", or some variant.

What I usually see is something like this:

"In 1941 he remarried, to Mary Smith".

My issue here is that "remarry" can't take "to", not even after a comma. It seems shorthand for:

"In 1941 he remarried; he was now married to Mary Smith",

which is grammatically sound but obviously tasteless. But drop the comma and the "to", and we have a statement that in 99% of cases is misleading.

Even plain old "marry to" can be ambiguous. Does "In 1941 he was married to Hortense Clayworth" mean 1941 was the year in which their wedding ceremony was held, or does it mean they happened to be husband and wife at that time, but might have married 20 years earlier? It's impossible to tell out of context. I'm not disposed to extending the ambiguity to "remarry".

I've yet to see a really elegant solution to this shocking problem. Is there one? (I promise not to propose to the provider of the best answer, if that's any incentive). :) -- JackofOz (talk) 03:15, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

There used to be the good old word "to wed", which would at least have remedied the problem of your second last paragraph. — Sebastian 03:35, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

I agree that "remarried" is problematic, but it seems to me there are several acceptable alternatives. Instead of ""In 1941 he remarried; he was now married to Mary Smith", why not ""In 1941 he married Mary Smith"? Or even ""In 1941 he married for the third time, taking as his bride Mary Smith," Standard genealogical prose winds up with numbered marriages: ""On 12 June 1941 in Saskachewan, he married (2) Mary Smith." No one thinks he married Mary Smith for the second time unless there was a preceding "In Cleveland, he married (1) Mary Smith". - Nunh-huh 03:44, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

If it's a longish article, it's often useful to make it clear that the current marriage was not the first. A person skimming the article could read "In 1941 he married Mary Smith" as the subject's first, or one and only, marriage, when it might have been his 2nd or 3rd. "Taking as his bride" - I'm uneasy about that. It has connotations of ownership, which is not what marriage is supposed to be about. -- JackofOz (talk) 04:05, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

I think you're oversensitive; would you ban "Jack was her husband" or "Mary was his wife" on the same grounds? "His" or "hers" merely indicates a relationship, and not always one of ownership. In any case: "In 1941 he married, as his second wife, Mary Smith."- Nunh-huh 04:35, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

Now, that I like, Nunh-huh! Well done. (Re the other one, I was more worried about the "taking" than about "his bride". It's redolent of: "What are you up to these days, old boy? Oh, this and that. I've taken a wife, don't you know - where the wife is spoken of in the same terms as some object he picked up at a market.) -- JackofOz (talk) 05:54, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

Well, I can't claim credit for it, it's genealogical boilerplate. It's not perfect: it fails if you don't know exactly how many times someone's been married before. But it's a lot better than "He remarried to Mary Smith"! - Nunh-huh 06:01, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

(ec) We in the USA can "get married to" someone, so your example becomes "In 1941 he got married to Hortense Clayworth" if you mean to inform us that the marriage took place in that year. As you put it, "In 1941 he was married to Hortense Clayworth", it unambiguously means that Hortense was his wife that year, with the implication that in other years he had a different one. As for "remarry", I see nothing wrong with "In 1941 he remarried, to Mary Smith". Yes, it totally fails to parse (there is no explicit verb for the "to" phrase to be the adverb for), but that's just tough luck for the parsers. There is a tacit verb; I see it as "In 1941 he remarried, [getting married] to Mary Smith." That could be rephrased with some gain in goodness, I think, as "In 1941 he remarried, marrying Mary Smith." --Milkbreath (talk) 03:45, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

I'm terribly disappointed in you, Milkbreath. Go to your room. But before you go, tell me you're not serious about "In 1941 he remarried, marrying Mary Smith."? To my sensitive little ears, that's just getting worse. Sorry. As for 1941/Hortense, I can conceive of contexts where "In 1941 he was married to Hortense Clayworth" would not absolutely mean he had a different wife the previous year. It could, in the context, mean that he could not possibly have been married to Florence, Demelza, Starletta or any other suggested candidates at that time, because he had Hortense in tow, at that time. -- JackofOz (talk) 04:05, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

I was tired, and I hurt my finger. --Milkbreath (talk) 10:50, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

I would go with "In 1941 he married again, this time to Mary Smith" or "In 1941 he married his second wife, Mary Smith". --Richardrj ^{talk email} 08:37, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

Yep, those work too. Thanks, Richard. I can see I'm going to have to very much avoid "remarried". -- JackofOz (talk) 08:55, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

I would simply write "In 1941 he got married again, this time to Jane Smith". If getting married is too hoi palloi for you, you could try wed:

In 1941 he wed once more, this time a woman named Jane Smith.

Honestly, though, to my ears "In 1941 he remarried, to Jane Smith" sounds just fine. So sue me.

I wouldn't go that far (lawyers are so damned expensive these days). You, of course, can like whatever you like. I don't like "remarried to" (with or without a comma) because one does not "marry to" anyone, so one doesn't "remarry to" anyone. The "to" only has a use where the construction is passive - "He was married to X" - or in "He got married to X". But when it comes to remarrying, I don't think we say "He got remarried to X". Even putting a comma after "remarried" doesn't help, because it still sounds like he's remarrying a person he previously divorced. -- JackofOz (talk) 22:38, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

Best titles

More of an opinion thing than anything, but what titles - of books, movies, whatever - do you think are particularly good, regardless of the actual content? In middle school we had read a book called Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry, about which I can't remember much, but that title has stuck with me like nothing else. I also really like the (to-me-to-an-unknown-degree ironic) title of A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. Any ideas? zafiroblue05 | Talk 08:34, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

I'm quite partial to Hotel for Dogs. -Elmer Clark (talk) 10:39, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

Stay Out of the Basement from R.L. Stine's Goosebumps series. --Milkbreath (talk) 10:57, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking. I like the triple irony in the title.--KageTora (talk) 12:35, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat by Oliver Sacks. AndrewWTaylor (talk) 12:40, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said. In general, you can trust Phillip Dick co come up with weird titles for books... TomorrowTime (talk) 12:52, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

Robert Rankin has some nice ones including (IMO), Sex and Drugs and Sausage Rolls and The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse. Lanfear's Bane | t 12:55, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

[This question really belongs on Humanities, but so what!]. Cordwainer Smith had a number of really memorable titles, most of which were not actually his invention, but bestowed by Frederik Pohl: "The Dead Lady of Clown Town" is one of the best. --ColinFine (talk) 14:59, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

I've always liked the title "A Shade of August" although I never actually did anything with it and I don't even know what it meant. (A quick Google search reveals someone else thought of this title, too, but didn't publish until 2001 I guess I should sue them since I thought of it in the 1980s. ;) ) —Preceding unsigned comment added by A Quest For Knowledge (talk • contribs) 15:35, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

Rudyard Kipling was a master of the title - whether for a short story, a poem, or a collection of stories and verse. Plain Tales from the Hills, his first collection, is a fine piece of word-play in itself, and within it we find the likes of On the Strength of a Likeness, Three and - an extra, and who could resist The Gate of the Hundred Sorrows? DuncanHill (talk) 15:44, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

The titles of Harry Stephen Keeler are always sublime: The Skull of the Waltzing Clown. And my personal favorite: I Killed Lincoln at 10:13! Lantzy ^talk 15:49, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

Jorge Luis Borges once said that "The Man Who Was Friday" (by G. K. Chesterton) was one of the greatest book titles ever. --Xuxl (talk) 15:58, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

Gladly the cross-eyed bear by Ed McBain (it's a mondegreen). 87.113.74.22 (talk) 16:40, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

The Hoboken Chicken Emergency? Adam Bishop (talk) 16:57, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

I always liked the title Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance until I found out that's what the book is actually about. —Angr 17:01, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

Don't judge a book by its title! For my favorite title, I'll have to say it was The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark, normally referred to as "Candle in the Dark." Mac Davis (talk) 17:59, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

I like titles with double meanings, like A Farewell to Arms, meaning "goodbye war" and "bidding loved ones adieu". Had I written the book, I'd have given it a nice triple meaning by having his arms amputated, too. StuRat (talk) 18:27, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

Two favorites:

• Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog)
• I, Claudius

--- OtherDave (talk) 19:47, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

It's a short story, but my altime favorite title is "Repent, Harlequin!" Said the Ticktockman. AnyPerson (talk) 20:39, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

Selling England by the Pound. I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream. --LarryMac | Talk 20:48, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

The Autobiography of My Mother. Since you don't restrict this to books, my favourite two olde-time song titles are God Needed an Angel a Songbird in Paradise So He Took Caruso Away, and A Woman is Only a Woman, But a Good Cigar is a Smoke. -- JackofOz (talk) 22:28, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

A woman is only a woman, but a Good cigar is a Smoke is an RK line :) DuncanHill (talk) 23:59, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

Yep, I thought it had a Kiplingesque flavour to it. But it was also a song (my source: The Book of Lists, p. 117, "Dr. Demento's 10 Worst Song Titles of All Time", which also has such beauties as "Plant a Watermelon on My Grave and Let the Juice Soak Through"; "Come After Breakfast, Bring Your Lunch, and Leave Before Suppertime"; "If the Man in the Moon Were a Coon"; and "Would You Rather be a Colonel with an Eagle on Your Shoulder or a Private with a Chicken on Your Knee?".) -- JackofOz (talk) 01:58, 3 February 2009 (UTC)

"A good Cigar is a Smoke" is from a poem about a breach of promise case - the woman wanted her fiancé to give up smoking, so he ended the engagement. I didn't think that American privates were allowed to have chickens on their knees. DuncanHill (talk) 02:04, 3 February 2009 (UTC)

Satire is good, too, as in The Pilgrim's Regress. StuRat (talk) 23:20, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

I second Colin Fine's assessment of Cordwainer Smith's titles (by Frederick Pohl, whose titles are oddly uninspiring. My favourite Smith titles include Oh No! Not Rogov!, The Day the People Fell, The Crime and Punishment of Commander Suzdal and Mother Hutton's Littul Kittuns. Steewi (talk) 23:40, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

Ok, ok, I'll add one: The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Pfly (talk) 03:33, 3 February 2009 (UTC)

Who could forget Hampster Huey and the Gooey Kablooie? Ok, that's not a real title, but the Calvin and Hobbes books had some very memorable titles (my favourite being Scientific Progress goes Boink). The most meorable title I've ever come across was Cannibal Women in the Avocado Jungle of Death - I don't remember anything about the movie except that it really sucked, but the title will probably still make me chuckle 50 years from now -- Ferkelparade π 11:52, 3 February 2009 (UTC)

My favourite song title: Ozzie Nelson's "I'm looking for a guy who plays alto and baritone and doubles on a clarinet and wears a size 37 suit" AndrewWTaylor (talk) 12:09, 3 February 2009 (UTC)

I am filled with joy each time nominations for the annual Bookseller/Diagram Prize for Oddest Title of the Year are announced. Past winners include "People Who Don't Know They're Dead: How They Attach Themselves To Unsuspecting Bystanders And What To Do About It", "How To Avoid Huge Ships", and "If You Want Closure in Your Relationship, Start With Your Legs". Karenjc 16:14, 3 February 2009 (UTC)

How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb by U2. Bono later mused that he regretted not saying 'the' instead of 'an'.--KageTora (talk) 04:52, 4 February 2009 (UTC)

Word describing the accuracy of an instrument

For example a ruler which goes up in mm would be described as... --RMFan1 (talk) 19:43, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

You can say that an instrument is more or less finely "graduated". I guess you mean that a ruler marked in millimeters would be rather finely graduated, and one marked in centimeters, coarsely. There are two other words used to refer to measuring devices, "accurate" and "precise", that are often confused. To say that a ruler is marked off in millimeters is to speak of its precision. To say that it gives a true measurement of length +/- 1 micron is to speak of its accuracy. If a clockface has only hour marks on it, it is not very precise, but that same clock might be accurate to within a microsecond if you measure the angles of the hands. --Milkbreath (talk) 20:05, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

In analogy to musical instruments "finely tuned" is sometimes used. 76.97.245.5 (talk) 00:46, 3 February 2009 (UTC)

NPOV of forced drugging?

What is the NPOV term for medically and authority-forced drugging of a homosexual or autistic person (or somebody else stripped of civil right and is actually not guilty of anything) to somehow cure them, but instead causing horrible medical effects on them? mayeb "medical abuse"? --Sonjaaa (talk) 20:39, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

I'm not sure if there's a term for the whole chain of events, but we could call it involuntary treatment with medication, leading to iatrogenic disease. StuRat (talk) 23:15, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

I am, etc.

While reaading about a medical condition sent in to a medical journal as a joke ("cello scrotum"), I noticed that all the senders ended their letters with the phrase "I am, etc.". Is this some form of standard greeting? What does it mean? thanks in advance!

I am, etc.

Marxmax (talk) 20:43, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

This was addressed on the Science desk recently - link. --LarryMac | Talk 20:47, 2 February 2009 (UTC)

The article Valediction has clarified that. It's an abbreviation for "I am, Sir, your most humble and obedient servant," --LunarShaddowღIvy (talk) 07:46, 6 September 2011 (UTC)