A Word on Words
Neeman
A Sobhan
This article
is dedicated to two people. One, a nephew-in-law of mine who
complained, 'Auntie, you use too many difficult words in your
column', and an older relative who said, 'My dear, sometimes,
I break my jaw pronouncing some of the words you use.' This
piece is not meant to be either in the vein of an apology nor
a defensive rebuttal, but is an invitation to examine the attitudes
we display when faced with what we term as a 'difficult' word.
I am going
to start off with what I wrote recently to a reader whose email
mentioned my use of 'hard words'. To him I said: "Perhaps
the reason you find some words in my column hard may be due
to your unfamiliarity with those words, and not because the
words are in themselves hard. A strange new word seems difficult
and unapproachable at first encounter because you haven't made
friends with it yet. But, if you looked at the word as a potential
friend, someone new you learned to know, you might find that
it would open your heart and mind to more subtle or more precise
or more colourful ways of expressing a thought, expounding an
idea or describing an image; you'd see deeper nuances, greater
richness and endless possibilities in the English language.
Instead, most people look at an unfamiliar word not just as
an unnecessary hurdle but actually a personal affront to their
current level of knowledge, making them feel hostile toward
the word because it seems to underline some lacking on their
part. Stumbling over the word amounts to an insult inflicted
on them by the user who must surely be a pretentious show-off
gleefully rubbing his hands saying 'Ha! Gotcha, you didn't know
that word did you?'"
We all have
a built-in psychological resistance to words that are foreign
to the cosy vocabulary we have acquired over the years. Anything
beyond its range is considered 'out of syllabus' and irritates
us as if it were a piece of flint in the eye. Dr. Wilfred Funk,
who wrote the monthly feature 'It Pays to Increase Your Word
Power' for the Reader's Digest once said that by the time we
are 25 years old our vocabulary is 95 percent complete as far
as we are concerned. Only 5 percent more will be added during
the remaining portion of our lives, unless we consciously choose
to improve or enlarge it.
The active
vocabulary of the average adult stops growing after passing
out of school or college, unless of course he is a voracious
reader, is in a language-related profession, or has a natural
aptitude for absorbing new words into his repertoire. But we
must make a distinction here: these days when people add new
words to their vocabulary, they readily absorb slang, buzz-words,
scientific-technical terminology, the vocabulary of socio-economic
development and political news commentary jargon but look down
on literary sounding words.
After leaving
the portals of education and upon entering life, very seldom
do people take down the dictionary to look-up an unfamiliar
word encountered during the course of the day's reading. Faced
with an alien word, (which could be ' 'inveigh' and 'inveigle'
for some, or 'abjure' and 'adjure' for another) many adults
respond first by sniffing suspiciously around it to guess its
meaning, then ignore it and choose to simply ride over it irritably
as if it were an uncalled for speed bump maliciously designed
to slow down the pace of reading. Most rant and rail and inveigh
against the writer: so this Know-All thinks he is trying to
teach me something, huh? Rarely does a reader allow his pride
to crumble long enough to look up the word because that would
give the writer an undue edge over the reader, make him look
superior; whereas consulting the dictionary is perceived by
the reader as being akin to admitting defeat and acknowledging
not knowing something...Oh! My God! (And we all know that to
say, 'I don't know' is worse than saying 'I am sorry.')
Thus the
dictionary is one of the least used books in a home, and considered
a nerdish thing. Why the hell should we have to stoop to using
it, when the inconsiderate writer, instead, could just use a
more everyday word for whatever he wants to communicate? No,
the dictionary is only the last resort used only on the sly
to confirm that we are correct about what we know, to soothe
the nagging feeling that a word, say 'disabuse', that we just
used in conversation does mean what we thought it meant (which
is to stop abusing something, isn't it?). Time for the dictionary.
Ooops! It means 'to free from error or fallacy.' Stupid word!
Well, while we are at it, lets see what the hell that pompous
ass meant when he said 'mordancy of insight'? And since we are
visiting the dictionary, might as well check out the spelling
of that word we wrote as 'langourous' or did we write 'langorous'
or… oh! My God is that how it's written: 'l-a-n-g-u-o-r-o-u-s'?
Stupid word!
No, we simply
cannot disabuse ourselves of our deep-seated belief that if
we don't know the new word, it is a useless word, which should
be ignored, instead of being claimed as a weapon in our armoury
of thought; might I even say, a particularly incisive and mordant
weapon of insightful speech or writing?
Okay, time
for a quotation break, but don't go away. Beecher said: 'Words
are the pegs to hang ideas on'; Judd takes this to an even more
fundamental level: 'Words are the instruments that make thought
possible.' We think with words, and the richer, more varied
our vocabulary, the more discriminating, selective and clear
will be our thinking, because words lead to concepts, which
are the building blocks of reasoning. Complex sounding words
are at our service to make language more precise and meaning
more explicit, not to obfuscate and rub people the wrong way.
(By the way, I used 'obfuscate' because I'm almost at the end
of the 1200 word limit for my column and need to be economical,
and what single word can so well illustrate the meaning of making
something obscure, dark and confusing than obfuscate? I hope
my target reader who sent me the email will not think that I'm
trying to trick and inveigle him into an acquaintanceship with
a new word-friend?)
But as I
sign off, let me assure him as well as those of my readers who
would want me to abjure, renounce and give up the use of 'hard'
words, that good prose is never deliberately obscure and does
not use long or difficult words just to preen and impress. A
'hard' word is used because it is the most appropriate one,
containing within itself what would take us an entire sentence
to explain. A simpler word might just be too simplistic, lacking
the finer shades of meaning needed. But all this, the range,
power and relevance of vocabulary, deserves a whole article,
so more another time. Meanwhile, if you will excuse me, I'll
just go and re-check the meaning of 'adjure' in my much used
and battered dictionary!
Sobhan10@hotmail.com
(The writer's book of collected columns 'An Abiding City:
Ruminations from Rome' is available at Etcetera and at OMNI
BOOK's new location: House 4G, Rd.104, Gulshan Dhaka.)