Showing posts with label english. Show all posts
Showing posts with label english. Show all posts

Thursday, September 16, 2010

More English spelling reform

Via Johnson via John Wells, I learned of Masha Bell's blog Improving English Spelling covering spelling reform. Some of the best posts are among her earlier ones, in which she makes the case for very modest regularizations of the most common English words to facilitate education and literacy among young students:...as well as plenty of posts discussing individual spellings or the weird history of irregularly spelt short u. The sheer pigheadedness behind some of the irregular spellings is always amazing, as when the inkhorns added a "p" to the front of Gaelic "tarmigan" in order to make it look Greek and thus edumacated.

Wells makes a great point, too:
She also compares the ‘redundant’ -e in such words as accurate, adequate, delicate, private, with the ‘phonic reliability’ of words such as accelerate, assassinate, calculate. ...This implies, interestingly, that perhaps we ought to complicate our spelling by introducing a difference between moderate (verb, ˈmɒdəreɪt) and moderat (adjective, ˈmɒd(ə)rət), or separate (verb, ˈsepəreɪt) and separat (adjective, ˈsep(ə)rət) and other similar pairs.

It would certainly, I think, be advantageous to abolish the -e not only in love but also in have and give. These three very basic words immediately undermine the ‘magic e’ rule that reading beginners are taught. It would be nice, too, to be able to distinguish liv (verb, lɪv) from live (adjective, laɪv).

A great idea. Spelling reform has been going nowhere for years, and is generally done in countries more comfortable with language policy, language planning, and more significant government power over elements of popular culture. More recently, it was controversial in Germany.

I suspect the only hope for spelling reform in English is through guerilla and asymmetrical means, such as by endorsement of popular respellings like "nite" for "night". It will happen when writers just begin writing and publishing in reformed spellings, and the spellings that make sense drift from signs and text messages into usage in increasingly formal or prestige contexts.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

"2010" and the national epoch

The year is now 2010, which unfortunately is time for prescriptivist nonsense.

There's another good example of saying the year number fully in the US Constitution (Article VII):
Done in Convention by the Unanimous Consent of the States present the Seventeenth Day of September in the Year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and Eighty seven and of the Independence of the United States of America the Twelfth In witness whereof We have hereunto subscribed our Names...

The US Constitution would have 1776 as year one, the first year of independence.

I've been a little curious about the usage of the quaint "in the year of the Republic" recently. This sort of epoch is said to be common in Taiwan, based on an East Asian tradition of dating in regnal years, as in contemporary Japan. The French Republican calendar used a similar epoch from 1793, and the positivist calendar had 1789 as the first year. Other examples are a little tricky to Google up, even if it was a common enough phrase. A court document cited here describes 1837 as the second year of the Republic (of Texas). But this system seems to be a source of confusion: 1938 would be the 163rd year of independence, and the 152nd year of the Republic. It's a confusion of cardinal and ordinal numbers; July 4, 1776, marked the completion of two centuries of American independence, even if something that happened in 1976 was "in the 201st year of independence."

So in 2010, we should say "in the 235th year of independence" and "in the 224th year of the Republic".

Saturday, June 20, 2009

The Tengwar in English and Japanese (日本語のテングゥアのモード)

J.R.R. ト−ルキンの文字は美しいけど、英語はその字がちょっと複雑です。テングゥア(トールキンの字)で、英語より日本語は書きやすいよ。そして、これは”日本語のテングゥアのモード”です。上の図はいろは歌 です。中の図は用例です。下の図は五十音です。
このウェブサイトに、テングゥアについて英語で読める。

J.R.R. Tolkien's tengwar, used for writing his Elvish languages as well as English and other European languages, is truly a beautiful script: it is steeped in the calligraphic traditions of medieval European writing, elegantly and systematically represents most consonant sounds, has strong lines and a hypnotic, engaging repetition of basic shapes.

But, as a script, the tengwar causes me great frustration. Tolkien devised an extraordinarily elegant way of representing consonants, but he never really settled on a way of consistent or systematic way of representing vowels. There are full modes and tehta modes, all varying. Even the full modes barely have enough vowels for English, and the tehta modes are wholly inadequate. Furthermore, many fans of the scripts find phonemic English writing confusing, and so most people write in the so-called "orthographic" modes, which often write consonants phonemically and vowels according to their representation in the Latin alphabet.

Using the five vowels of the Latin alphabet to write the dozen-plus vowels of English is an ugly hack. Using the Latin vowels as written in English in an otherwise phonemic script is an ugly hack of an ugly hack.

Many people are intrigued by the idea of writing English in an abugida, and the tehta modes are probably as close as it's practical to come. But I find it pretty awkward. There are a two main problems with writing English this way: English has numerous consonant clusters, and English has too many vowels to use diacritics easily.

But it'd be great for Japanese! Japanese has a simple syllable structure, a simple vowel inventory, and is already written with a syllabary. So here is a Japanese mode for the tengwar.

For more information about the tengwar, consult the guides at Amanye Tenceli or Tolkien script publishing. These samples were created using the Code2000 font, which encodes the tengwar as in the ConScript Unicode Registry. The iroha is above, a a few sample sentences follow, and the tables of tengwar and kana are at the bottom.

These tengwar here generally follow rōmaji. The usage of súle for つ and anto for づ are unsystematic, but seemed like the best borrowing. The long vowel carrier is used in an unusual way; it is merely placed after a letter to show that the vowel is long. Note also the bottom bar used for palatized consonants, and I've offered no way to represent the sokuon っ.

このモードはロマ字みたい。本当は日本語を日本語の字で書くことがいいけど、テングゥアが面白い。





EDIT (July 26, 2009)
Significantly revised, so one can write with a sokuon. Use the doubler bar (underbar) to mark a consonant that would be proceeded by a sokuon.

今このモードで促音を書ける。

Sunday, May 10, 2009

The Keyboard of Made-Up Languages

Or at least, alternate orthographies.

I took a $10 USB keyboard, popped off the keys, painted some of them with a $1 can of white spray paint, and drew on new characters with a fine-point Sharpie. Aside from the spray-painted keys, lots of other keys have been rearranged to preserve functionality and for other reasons: the numpad is arranged like a phone keypad rather than a computer numpad. Ukulele helped me create Unicode keyboard layouts.

The keyboard types Quikscript for Thoth Uni, and my english mode for cyrillic (mostly because I was working on it around the same time). The position of the cyrillic letters mostly match the Quikscript letters.

It took a little fine-tuning, and repositioning some of the control keys was pointless, because Ukulele can't remap all of them. But it's interesting.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

So the Henriad Begins

I have always wanted to watch a series of productiong of Shakespeare's histories, featuring some of the same actors in the same roles. Finally I have discovered "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare," produced by the BBC and Time-Life Video. So I'm watching the plays by regnal order.

"King John" was first. The production quality is not great by contemporary standards. The acting is somewhat spotty; although George Costigan was a good Philip the Bastard.

"Richard II" is much better, with Derek Jacobi as Richard, John Gielgud as John of Gaunt, and Charles Gray as the Duke of York. The fight scene at the end is somewhat dated.

The exchange between King Richard and Thomas Mowbray (Act 1, Scene III) is perhaps revealing to consider: faced with lifelong exile, Mowbray most mourns his chance to speak the English language.

King Richard II:
Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom,
Which I with some unwillingness pronounce:
The sly slow hours shall not determinate
The dateless limit of thy dear exile;
The hopeless word of 'never to return'
Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.


Thomas Mowbray:
A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege,
And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth:
A dearer merit, not so deep a maim
As to be cast forth in the common air,
Have I deserved at your highness' hands.
The language I have learn'd these forty years,
My native English, now I must forego:
And now my tongue's use is to me no more
Than an unstringed viol or a harp,
Or like a cunning instrument cased up,
Or, being open, put into his hands
That knows no touch to tune the harmony:
Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue,
Doubly portcullis'd with my teeth and lips;
And dull unfeeling barren ignorance
Is made my gaoler to attend on me.
I am too old to fawn upon a nurse,
Too far in years to be a pupil now:
What is thy sentence then but speechless death,
Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath?

Excerpts from President Reagan's Speech in Berlin, June 12, 1987

As transliterated into my English mode for Cyrillic.

"Ѡи към ту Бърлын, ѡи Ъмэрыкън прэзыдынтс, быкъз ытс ар дуди ту спик, ын ѳыс плэис, ъв фридъм.

"Бъхаинд ми стѣндс ъ ѡал ѳѣт ынсърклз ѳъ фри сэктърз ъв ѳыс сыди, парт ъв ъ вѣст сысдъм ъв бэриърз ѳѣт дываидз ѳъ ынтаир кантынынт ъв Юръп. фръм ѳъ балтык, сѣѹѳ, ѳоз бэриърз кът ъкрас Ѕърмъни ын ъ гѣш ъв барбд ѡаир, канкрит, даг рънз, ѣнд гард тѣѹрз. фарѳър сѣѹѳ, ѳэыр мэи би но вызыбл, но абвиъс ѡал. бът ѳэр рымэин армд гардз ѣнд чэкпоитс ал ѳъ сэим—стыл ъ ръстрыкшън ан ѳъ раит ту травъл, стыл ѣн ынструмынт ту ымпоз ъпан ордынэри мын ѣнд ѡымын ѳъ ѡыл ъв ъ тотѣлытэриън стэит. Ет ыт ыз хыр ын Бърлын ѡэр ѳъ ѡал ымърѕыз мост клырли; хыр, къдынг ъкрас йор сыди, ѡэр ѳъ нуз фодо ѣнд ѳъ тэлъвыжън скрин хѣв ымпрынтыд ѳыс брудъл дывыжън ъв ъ кантынынт ъпан ѳъ маинд ъв ѳъ ѡърлд. стѣндынг быфор ѳъ Брѣндынбърг Гэит, эври мѣн ыз ъ Ѕърмън, сэпърэидыд фръм хыз фэло мын. Эври мѣн ыз ъ Бърлынър, форсд ту лѹк ѣт ъ скар.

"...ын ѳъ 1950з, Крушчев пръдыктыд: "Ѡи ѡыл бэри ю." Бът ын ѳъ ѡэст тъдэи, ѡи си ъ фри ѡѹрлд ѳѣт хѣз ъчивд ъ лэвыл ъв праспэрыди ѣнд ѡэл-биынг ънпрэсыдынтыд ын хюмын хысдъри. Ын ѳъ Камюныст ѡърлд, ѡи си фэилйър, тэкнълаѕыкъл бѣкѡърдныс, дыклаинынг стѣндърдс ъв хэлѳ, ивън ѡънт ъв ѳъ мост бэисык каинд#151;ту лыдл фуд. Ивын тъдэи, ѳъ Совиът Юнйън стыл кѣнат фид ытсэлф. Ѣфдър ѳиз фор дэкэидз, ѳын, ѳэир стѣндс бъфор ѳъ ынтаир ѡърлд ѡън грэит ѣнд ынъскэипъбл кънклужън: Фридъм лидз ту праспэръди. Фридъм ръплэисыс ѳъ эиншънт хэитрыдс ъмънг ѳъ нэишънз ѡыѳ камыти ѣнд пис. Фридъм ыз ѳъ выктър.

"Ѣнд нѣу ѳъ Совиътс ѳымсэлвз мэи, ын ъ лымыдыд ѡэи, би къмынг ту ъндърстѣнд ѳъ ымпортынс ъв фридъм. Ѡи хыр мъч фръм Маскѣѹ ъбѣѹт ъ ну палыси ъв ръформ ѣнд опыннэс. Съм пълыдыкъл прызънърз хѣв бын рълисд. Съртън форын нуз брадкастс хѣв бын пърмыдыд ту апърэит ѡыѳ грэидър фрыдъм фръм стэит кънтрол.

"Ар ѳиз ѳъ быгынингз ъв пръфѣѹнд чэинѕыз ын ѳъ Совиът стэит? Ор ар ѳэи токын ѕэсчърз, ынтындыд ту рэиз фалс хопс ын ѳъ Ѡэст, ор ту стрэингѳын ѳъ Совиът сыстым ѡыѳѣѹт чэинѕинг ыт? Ѡи ѡэлкъм чэиѕ ѣнд опыннэс; фор ѡи бълив ѳѣт фридъм ѣнд сыкюрыди го тъгэѳър, ѳѣт ѳъ ѣдвѣнс ъв хюмын лыбърди кѣн онли стрэингѳын ѳъ каз ъв ѡърлд пис. ѳэир ыз ѡън саин ѳъ Совиътс кѣн мэик ѳѣт ѡѹд би ънмыстэикъбл, ѣнд ѡѹд ѣдвѣнс дръмѣдыкли ѳъ каз ъв фридъм ѣнд пис.

"Ѕынъръл Сэкрътэри Горбъчав, ыф ю сик пис, ыф ю сик праспэрыди фор ѳъ Совиът Юнйън ѣнд Исдърн Юръп, ыф ю сик лыбърълызэишън: Към хыр ту ѳыс гэит! Мр. Горбъчав, опын ѳыс гэит! Мр. Горбъчав, тэир дѣѹн ѳыс ѡал!"

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

An English Mode for Cyrillic

Among my experiments with alternate orthographies in the past few months has been adapting various scripts to writing English, in a similar way to how the Latin alphabet has been extended to all the languages of the world. While I may aspire to write English phonemically in the Arabic script, Cyrillic is a more plausible writing system to start with. In the custom of the tengwar, I call this an English mode for Cyrillic.

Is there a rational reason to do this? Well, as I learned in China, being able to decipher street signs and place names is of enormous value when traveling in a country, even if your command of the language is poor. Learning a phonemic script can take a week or three for passable use, but learning a language can take years. Russian is a beautiful and elegant language, but realistically I am unlikely to learn more than a smattering of it at any time. Learning to read Cyrillic script in English may prove of value in learning to scan Cyrillic text generally, although it could plausibly increase errors in the decipherment of non-English text among people with a serious interest in learning a Slavic language.

Why would any English speakers write in Cyrillic? I imagine a lost Arctic island, New Sannikov Island, peopled by the descendants of illiterate English whalers marooned in the 17th century or later American prospectors, who only learned to read after a Ukrainian doctor washed ashore. They probably wouldn't write this way, though.

This script is geared most strongly to the Russian values for the letters, although many characters are used in different ways to represent the greater number of vowels of English. I also relied upon Cyrillic characters archaic in modern Russian, and the Cyrillic alphabet used to write Romanian before the 1860s. Romanian, as a Romance language, seemed like it would be an instructive example in using Cyrillic to write a non-Slavic language.

Most of the letters (АБВГДЖЗИКЛМОПРСТФЦЧШЫ) have common values in old Romanian and Russian. With some of the letters (ЕӖЙНУЭЮЯ) the Russian value is preferred. With others (ЅѸХѠЪѢѲ) I leaned to the Romanian sound. And I probably just made stuff up, too. Several of the characters from Romanian, such as Yat, are archaic letters that were reformed out of modern alphabets decades ago. The glyphs for the hard sign and such in Russian are here used for separate vowels.

This system should work reasonably well for transcribing my dialect, a western/mid-southern US dialect that merges lots of vowels, including "Mary-merry-marry," "cot-caught," and "pin-pen." It might work less well if you use more vowels. Dipthongs are represented with digraphs: эи, аи, ои, ѣу

Here are some samples, followed by some Benjamin Franklin quotes; I'll post some longer extracts when I get my keyboard for made-up languages finished.

Ѡѹлвъринз!

Аи лыв ын Лѹъвъл, Кынтъки.

"Ѳъ Кѣт ын ѳъ Хѣт" ыз ъ бѹк баи Др. Соис.

Ѳъ рэин ын Спэин стэиз мэинли ын ѳъ плэин.

Ѳэир нэвър ѡъз ъ гѹд ѡор ор ъ бѣд пис.

Аи ѳинк ал ѳъ хэрътыкс аи хѣв нон хѣв бын анъръбл мын. …Ыт ыз нат ту маи гѹд фрынд'з хэръси ѳѣт аи ымпют хыз анэсти. он ѳъ кантрэри, 'тыз хыз анэсти ѳѣт хѣз брат ъпан хым ѳъ кэиръктър ъв хэрътык.





































































































































































































































LetterNamePronunciation
А а Az "a" in "calm"
Б б Bet "b" in "bay"
В в Ve "v" in "vie"
Г г Glagol "g" in "gay"
Д д De "d" in "day"
Е е Ye "ye"*
Ӗ ӗ Yo "yo"*
Ж ж Zhe "zh", the sound in "J'ai," "vision," or "pleasure"
Ѕ ѕ Je "j" in "jay"
З з Ze "z" in "zoo"
И и I "ee", the vowel in "eat"
Й й Short I "y" in "you"
К к Ka "k" in "key"
Л л El "l" in "low"
М м Em "m" in "may"
Н н En "n" in "no"
О о O "o", the sound in "oak"
П п Pe "p" in "pea"
Р р Er "r" in "roe"
С с Es "s" in "see"
Т т Te "t" in "tea"
Ѹ ѹ Uk "oo," the sound in "foot," "pull," and "good"
У у U "oo," the sound in "ooze," "truth," and "boot"
Ф ф Ef "f" in "fee"
Х х Ha "h" in "he"
Ѡ ѡ Omega "w" in "way"
Ц ц Tse "ts" the sound in "pizza"
Ч ч Che "ch" in "cheer"
Ш ш Sha "sh" in "she"
Ъ ъ Yer "u" in "utter"
Ы ы Yeru "i" in "it"
Ѣ ѣ Yat "a" in "at" or "cat"
Э э E "e" in "ever"
Ю ю Yu "yoo" in "you"*
Я я Ya "yaw"*
Ѳ ѳ Theta "th" in "thaw", "they"




*iolated vowels

Monday, March 23, 2009

My experience with alternate orthographies

I think the first non-Latin alphabet I learned to read was Japanese, when I moved there back in 1998. I perused some Japanese in rōmaji books, but when confronted with having to get by in Japan, one of the first things I learned was the kana. It's certainly the most important thing to do if you want to learn a language—to learn the script that best represents its speech and grammar.

Learning the script takes a week or so. Learning the language is much harder, and takes some years and hundreds of hours of study.

When I left Japan, I could get by in ordinary conversations, read the kana, and understood about 300 of the 2,000 or so jōyō kanji.

Rather than flying home, I took a boat from Ōsaka to Shanghai and spent two months travelling around China third class. The Chinese ideographs are the lingua franca of East Asia, and although I could barely speak any Chinese, I was able to get around the country, reading maps and place names and train destinations, deciphering menus in a basic way. It wasn't my understanding of the Chinese language that helped me get around China, so much as my understanding of the script shared between the Chinese and Japanese languages.
  • 東京 means "East Capital." In Japanese, it's pronounced "Tōkyō." You could pronounce it "Dongjing" in Mandarin.

  • 北京 means "North Capital." In Mandarin, it's pronounced "Beijing." You could pronounce it "Hokkyō" in Japanese, although most people don't.

  • 台北 means "Platform North." The capital of Taiwan is pronounced "Taibei" in Mandarin and was "Taihoku" under Japanese administration.

  • 仙台 means "Wizard Platform." It's the Japanese city "Sendai."


I've been fascinated with Central Asia for some time: the steppe, the Altay Mountains, the Gobi Desert, to Siberia and the coldest places on Earth. I went to Tibet on my trip to China, and I'd like to traverse the Silk Road from Beijing, to Mongolia and Kazakhstan, and to Tehran and points south. One of the things I find so fascinating about this region is that the terrain is similar in many ways similar to the dramatic Western landscape of my childhood, the Great Plains and the Rocky Mountains, but has a completely different cultural history which has been recorded for hundreds and thousands of years.

Uyghur is a Turkic language spoken around the Tian Shan, the mountains of heaven, from Kashgar to Ürümqi. Over the centuries, it had been written in Old Turkish runes, a variant of the Sogdian alphabet derived from Aramaic, variants of the Perso-Arabian script, several variants of the Latin alphabet, and Cyrillic. The Old Uyghur alphabet was adapted by the Mongols during the time of Genghis Khan to write Mongolian, and Nurhaci adapted the Mongolian alphabet to Manchu before laying some of the groundwork for the Qing Empire; the Manchu alphabet is one of the world's loveliest scripts.

In other words, Uyghur has been written in most of the dominant scripts of Eurasia, and some original ones besides. I wondered: why shouldn't English be so diversely written? What would English look like if it were written in a truly phonemic orthography? What would it be like to write poetry in a script in which words that rhyme, like "mate" and "weight" were written in a way that looked similar?

I have been a fairly digitally-oriented person in this decade, but I came to be interested in the book as a physical object about a year and a half ago after reading about the surprisingly many tomes bound in human flesh.

In a thousand years, all our DVDs and hard drives will be as blank, meaningless stones. The historians of the future will look back for individual objects to interpret to corroborate what data survives, as they look back to the baked clay tiles the Sumerians scratched, the carved obelisks of Egypt, the ink-scrawled bamboo strips of wartorn China. No book can be more uniquely individual than one bound in the skin of a person, and such a precious work would deserve to be handwritten rather than blogged or printed on an inkjet.

So I got some calligraphy pens to see about writing insular miniscule, perhaps the most attractive script used to write English in the years before Charlemagne made it Europe's standard Latin script. I also set about learning to write in the Read alphabet.

It was interesting going at first, trying to re-discern the phonemes of my idiolect, using guidebooks keyed to Received Pronunciation and northeastern dialects. First I had to figure out that my basically Oklahoma dialect, mixing Western and Southern elements, had undergone all the vowel mergers one might guess, including "pin-pen," "Mary-marry-merry," and "cot-caught."

Writing it has become fairly easy, although most everything there is to read is stuff I wrote myself or things written by people with very different dialects. Except for copying back notes, I have little practical reason to read it, so writing is actually much easier than reading. I want to see what can be done scribing it with some proper calligraphy tools.

While Quikscript is an easy-to-write and attractive script, useful for many purposes, a truly phonemic script has some drawbacks. It's problematic to create a universal English dictionary when dialect and pronunciation varies so. And I wonder if there is a more appropriate way of representing English vowels.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

English spelling reform & alternate orthographies

For years, decades, and centuries, writers and such have been complaining about the ridiculousness or unreasonableness of English spelling and writing. The Latin alphabet was adapted to English over a thousand years ago, and wrote it pretty well at the time, with the addition of a number of Germanic runes and Irish letters to represent sounds not found in Latin. Later, these letters (such as thorn, eth, and the ligature of ae) were dropped, and English went through a series of sound changes and vowel shifts. so that now the individual letters used to represent a word bear small relationship to the sounds they are intended to represent. It is a parody of an ostensibly phonemic, alphabetic system.

Spanish has five vowels. It is well served by the Latin alphabet, which has five letters to represent vowels. English has more than a dozen vowels, dipthongs, and two dozen or more consonants, depending on dialect. However, the Latin alphabet only has 26 letters. These days, a vowel-letter can represent nearly any English vowel-sound, in the right context. The letter "A," for example, represents different vowel sounds in "what," "cat," and "father." How is it that the first vowel letter of "women" rhymes with the first vowel letter of "linen," but not with the first vowel letter of "woman"? Why does the spell-checker insist that "correspondance" is incorrect, while "correspondence" is great...does it really matter which letter represents that unstressed vowel, when the sounds that letters represent vary so greatly?

The consonants are bad enough. "Q" has no job that couldn't be done by "K": it's a completely superfluous letter. "C" sometimes sounds like "K," and sometimes sounds like "S." The only sound that is unambiguously represented by "C" uses the digraph "CH," as in "cheese," but which often also substitutes for the sound of "K." Why not just have "K" do its job, "S" do its job, and let "C" represent the consonant at the beginning of the word "cheese"?

The digraph "GH" among the most infamous, since it used to represent a phoneme barely present in modern English. It is said to represent the sound we associate with "F" at the end of words. as in "cough." It represents a "hard G" at the beginning of words such as "ghost." In the word "through," the digraph is silent; the alternate spelling "thru" is unambiguous, understood by everyone, simpler, and almost universally regarded as incorrent for some reason. The tetragraph "ough" is great fun in general.

The guidelines for deriving the sounds of spoken English from the patterns of the letters are of infernal complexity. Here is a list of 56 rules for deciding how to pronounce words based on their spelling, which correctly pronounces about 85% of them; it has trouble with more than one word in 10. The popularly simplified form of "night" is not "nit" or "nait," but "nite." The relationship between letters and sounds is not arbitrary; but perhaps it is more accurate to say that groups of letters correspond to groups of sounds, with numerous, significant exceptions.

Some of these irregularities are a consequence of English's plunder of the world's vocabulary, but many of them have terrible justification. "Island" was originally written as Anglo-Saxon "iland," but an "S" was added just to make it look more like the French word "isle," derived from the etymylogically seperate Latin word "insula." There is no good reason for the "P" in "ptarmigan;" someone tacked a "P" onto the beginning of a Scottish Gaelic word to make it look Greek, and for some reason it stuck as the "correct" spelling. We'd do just as well or better without it.

While it is true that Enlish orthography represents the etymology of and lexical relationships between words well, it is an extraordinarily complex written language that is difficult to learn proficiently. People often regard Asian ideographic characters as extremely difficult because there are thousands of individual glyphs compised of several strokes, each of which ideally represents a discrete idea. But is not English orthography, composing individual words as a unique but seemingly arbitrary sequence of letters, similarly complicated?

Attempts at a more phonemic writing began long ago. In the mid-17th century, Frances Lodwick developed an abugida to write the languages of western Europe, including the vowels of English, French, and Dutch, as a "universal alphabet" in the intellectual currents of the time. Benjamin Franklin, a printer by trade, proposed a reformed alphabet in 1768. But the biggest advance for reformed English spelling came after Isaac Pitman published his system of shorthand in 1837. Quick, legible, and attractive handwriting was very important in the 19th century, after literacy and printing became widespread, but before everyone had a typewriter or computer. Shorthand, which allowed the quick transcription of speech, was developed much earlier, but Pitman's shorthand was phonemic rather than relying on a system of symbols to represent common words. Shorthand became popular among many authors of the time, who, recognizing the advantages of phonemic handwriting, became advocates of phonemic orthography and simplified spelling more broadly. Mark Twain praised Pitman's "phonography" in his 1899 essay "A Simplified Alphabet."

Nineteenth-century spelling reformers such as Alexander J. Ellis took great delight in the absurdity of English writing: "fish" written as "ghoti" is the most famous example, but he described comical respellings of "scissors" as "schiesourrhce," "favorite" as "phaighpheawraibt," and "orthography" as "eolotthowghrhroighway." Or, you write potato, I write ghoughpteighbteau. "Ghoti" is often criticized by the apologists for conventional orthography, but "phoche" illustrates much of the same point.

For many of the 19th-century reformers, the chief cited benefit of phonemic writing is reducing handwriting. They meticulously count the number of strokes needed to write a selected passage and compare it to the number of strokes needed in some preferred system. These arguments seem unconvincing these days, since most of the writing contemporary people do is on a keyboard (also organized in a confusing way to slow down writing). But some research shows it takes children twice as long to learn to read English as it takes children to learn to read other European languages. Partly this is because English syllables are complicated; but this complicated language is written in a very complicated way.

People learn to read by sounding out the sounds of words, and this learning is hampered by the opaque, complicated relationship between letter and sound in English. Fast adult readers have become proficient in quickly sounding out the word in their head. But how can we blame bad spellers, when any particular sound sequence could be written any number of different ways?

As Hieratic and Demotic originated as shorthand for Egyptian hieroglyphics, Cicero's secretary recorded his speeches in the Notae Tironianae, the Japanese syllabary began as simplified phonemic glyphs for the ideographic Chinese characters, and the lower-case Latin letters started as cursive versions of the Roman capitals, shorthand systems can yield important innovation in writing standards. Pitman's shorthand inspired the Deseret alphabet created by Mormons at the University of Deseret in the 1850s.

Another 19th-century advocate of shorthand and phonemic writing was Anglo-Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw, who wrote his plays in shorthand and had them transcribed by his secretary. A Fabian and socialist, Shaw saw how class discrimination on the basis of sociolect inhibited the advancement of working peoples, portraying the abandonment of (rich, historic, and interesting) dialects as desirable in his preface to "Pygmalion"

In his will, Shaw stipulated that a sum of money be set aside to fund the creation of a new alphabet for English, but following his death in 1950, this aim became delayed. After several years, a contest held for the design of the alphabet was won by amateur typographer Ronald Kingsley Read in 1958, and Shaw's "Androcles and the Lion" became the only book published in the Shavian alphabet. Eight years later, Read distributed a reform of the Shavian alphabet, aimed to make the script easier to handwrite and create connected, cursive forms. This script became known as Quikscript or the Read alphabet. The PDF of the Quikscript manual is the place to start; the Read Alphabet Yahoo Group has many invaluable resources.


I started learning Quikscript about a year and a half ago; here's a sample, a near-pangram of my idiolect (missing one dipthong). It says: "With pleasure, the fox is baiting the dog with more chow: a juicy dough of fish oil and hair."

Other alternate orthographies for English include the Pitman Initial Teaching Alphabet , Unifon, and Visible Speech.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Didgeridoo Sleeptime

My girlfriend helpfully informs me of a study indicating that practicing the didgeridoo every day helps with snoring, by training the muscles of the upper airway with circular breathing exercises.

But this story about didgeridoos has perhaps the most nonsensical statement I've ever read in a piece of science journalism.

"If didgeridoo players had ears in their mouths, they'd go deaf."

What kind of sense does that make?

Didgeridoos are interesting instruments. I've often wondered how a didgeridoo would sound in a jug band. Jug bands are so named coz they included instrumentalists who focused on playing the jug. But some jug bands instead had performers playing the stovepipe: a length of stovepipe played identically to the jug, a few inches away from the mouth.

Most homemade didgeridoos are just lengths of PVC pipe, with a mouthpiece made of beeswax. The playing style is much more sophisticated, creating a complex drone with circular breathing, rather than the simple rhythm of the jug. But it certainly seems like it'd fit in the novel aesthetic of the jug band. Plus, it'd probably be great fun to play "Foldin' Bed" on the didgeridoo.

Apropos of nothing, here is Rufus Harley, the jazz bagpiper.

Whistled Language & Palatal Whistling

I've been interested in whistled languages for a while now; replacing the voiced sounds of speech with whistled sounds seems like it would be really fun to hear. It's a phenomenon which has cropped up in languages across the world, mostly in isolated, rugged terrain, and most frequently among tonal languages.

Silbo Gomero has the best known whistled language, which was adapted from the indigenous language into Spanish. And who wouldn't like to visit the Canary Islands? Whistled languages are fairly common in West Africa, especially among the tonal Niger-Congo languages. Busuu.com has a couple of interesting videos demonstrating the whistling of the silbadores. They use fingered whistling, which is very loud. But it consequently seems like they map spoken phonemes to whistled phonemes that are different. It seems like whistled languages are more common in languages with a fairly small set of sounds.

Whistling is an interesting skill. Some vaudeville performers integrated whistling into their acts, usually as a novelty activity; several were able to whistle tunes with a variety of objects such as spoons in their mouths. Apparently, some people can whistle and hum at the same time, or whistle two tunes at once, or all sorts of strange things. Whistling has fallen out of favor as a musical enterprise, though. In elementary school, I whistled several tunes at my elementary school talent show.

I only have one or two memories of learning to whistle when I was a kid. I remember trying to pucker whistle in the passenger's seat of my Dad's old brown VW pickup in Oklahoma, some 20 years ago, when I got my first whistling sound. I never learned to finger whistle, because while it seemed usefully loud, I could already pucker whistle so much more fluently.

This NPR story, Whistling to Communicate in Alaska, is what really sparked my interest in whistled language. One of the Yupik girls interviewed whistles an English sentence, which was mostly readily intelligible to me, although she said whistling English was "difficult." It's been a little hard to figure out how to do this, though, because people can whistle in different ways and audio-only recordings aren't very instructive. I can only do pucker whistling, and since your lips are busy making the whistling sound, they can't make the consonant sounds of speech. English doesn't reliably distinguish vowels based on tone only: There's a limit to what Harpo Marx can communicate using only a slide whistle or a bulb horn.

At some point, I got the idea that whistled language like the Yupik girls were using was palatal whistling. I had never heard of such a thing: in the world of my childhood, you could whistle with your fingers, or you could whistle like how they explained it in that clip from "To Have and Have Not."

Trying to figure out palatal whistling, I found the Web site of whistling virtuoso and professor Tamas Hacki, which is both amazing and enormously helpful. He has recordings of whistled classical music on his site, but more helpfully, there are a number of YouTube videos of him performing. Apparently, he's been doing this since the 1960s.



It seems that the way to start to learn to do this is to make a "sh, sh, sh" noise until you get some whistle harmonics, and improve on that sound. The first few times I tried doing this for 10 minutes or so, the hyperventilating made me light-headed, so I only practiced it very rarely. In the last month or so, I've taken to attempting this on my 10-minute bicycle ride to work every day. It's a convenient block of time that I use for little except trying to avoid getting hit by cars.

Progress has been slow. At first, I was only shushing, with some rare, weak whistle harmonics here and there. Shushing a tune helped sometimes, but mostly because it forced a variety of changes in position of various parts of the mouth. About two weeks ago, I started to reliably be able to produce a whistle tone, although I can't vary it much without losing the whistle. Trying to memorize the position of my tongue when I successfully whistle this way has helped. Now, I can generally produce a whistle tone without many misfires, although I cannot control it well yet. Certainly I am not ready to join the International Artwhistling Philharmonic Society.

It's hard to describe, but it feels like my tongue is pressed against the rear of the roof of my mouth. It has a slightly rolled shape, presumably with a small opening for air at the front. Usually, my lips have a somewhat narrow rounded shape.

If I had to do this over, I'd learn Morse code at the same time, because it would give you something more interesting to do while you practice one note over and over.

Developing...