Monday, 28 February 2022

It end ups being a word

[Please note that this is a schedule post and I am currently observing my union (UCU)'s industrial action over pensions, pay, workloads, and equality.]

English has a group of verbs that you might know as 'phrasal verbs'. It's things like cheer up, find out, turn off. They include what looks like a preposition (up, out, off) so can be hard to distinguish from normal verbs with a preposition following them. To add to the complication, verbs that are not really phrasal but might have a preposition after them come in two types: they have to have a particular preposition, or they can have any old one optionally. Here's a classic Linguistics 101 example to clarify: 

Look can occur with no preposition at all: 

I'm not sure where it is, I'll look. 

Or it can be followed by one of several prepositions: 

I'm not sure where it is, I'll look at a map. 

I'm not sure where it is, I'll look up the address. 

I'm not sure where it is, I'll look in the atlas. 

I'm not sure where it is, I'll look to the stars as my guide. 

I'm not sure where it is, I'll look with my soul. 

OK, I'll stop there before it gets silly. But one of these is different from the others. Compare these two sentences: 

*I'm not sure where it is, I'll look a map at. 

I'm not sure where it is, I'll look the address up. 

In the second one, we can put the preposition at the end, whereas we can't do that in the first one. That's because look up is (in this case) a phrasal verb, and up isn't really a preposition. It's sometimes known as a verbal particle and it's doing something other than signifying direction. Compare it to the same phrase when it's not a phrasal verb. As we just saw, phrasal verbs like this one can move the 'preposition' to the end: 

I looked up the address.

I looked the address up. 

They can't have any other preposition than the one they go with, though:  

*I looked down the address. 

But if look up is not a phrasal verb, but instead just a normal verb that happens to be followed by a preposition, the opposite is true. You can't move the preposition to the end, but you can change it for another one. (I've added in a bit of context here to make the meaning clear.) 

I looked up the street and saw my friend arriving. 

*I looked the street up and saw my friend arriving. 

I looked down the street and saw my friend arriving. 

Anyway, this is all stuff that's in grammar books, so on to the observational content that you know and love. Someone I follow on twitter used the phrasal verb end up, but treated it as a single unit, putting the verbal ending on the particle, like this: 

...because it end ups reproducing the same situation they want to avoid. 

Normally, you'd expect to see ends up, not end ups. But this does make sense if you consider a phrasal verb to be a single unit. End up is a bit different from look up in that we can't move up anywhere else. It really always does have to be end up, with nothing in between them, and no other preposition than up. The parts don't really mean the same on their own (end could be used in the same way, but it's not). So it's really functioning as a single word in any meaningful sense, and therefore it makes sense to stick the word ending (the 'inflection') on the end of the whole unit, as this person did. 

Monday, 21 February 2022

If/had I needed to express a counterfactual

[Please note that this is a scheduled post, and I am taking part in the ongoing industrial action by my union, UCU.]

In a recent tweet, which I won't quote because the subject was too serious and grim for this light and fluffy discussion of linguistics, I saw the construction had/if. Like this: 

This is who I'd have spoken to had/if I needed help. 

It's like when you use and/or, to be clear that it's inclusive. If I write You'll enjoy this if you like fantasy and/or thrillers, then you'll like it if you like just one of those things or both of them. In other words, fantasy and thrillers, or fantasy, or thrillers. It just makes explicit the 'inclusive disjunction' (one or both are ok). 

But with had/if, there's no equivalent thing to make explicit. We can indeed use either of them in this sentence: This is who I'd have spoken to if I needed help and This is who I'd have spoken to had I needed help. But although had is a bit more formal, the meaning is the same, unlike with and/or. They both give a conditional interpretation. This made me wonder about the difference between them and after some struggle with finding out what the 'had' construnction was called (honestly it's hard to google linguistic things sometimes), I found Iatridou and Embick's 1994 article 'Conditional inversion'. 

It's called conditional inversion because it's used in conditionals, and the verb had is inverted with the subject: I had needed help vs Had I needed help. We use inversion a lot, including in questions (Had I needed help? Who can say.). 

So, if and inversion both indicate a conditional: 

If Sabine had eaten the calamari, she might be better by now.

Had Sabine eaten the calamari, she might be better by now. 

(Examples are all taken from Iatridou and Embick 1994, but with the name 'John' changed to 'Sabine' because John is in way too many linguistics example sentences.) 

Here's one difference between them, though. If can be used in situations where the thing might be true, and we just don't know the facts: 

If Sabine has eaten the calamari, there'll be none left for us. 

Inversion, meanwhile, can only be used in what are called counterfactuals, where we know the thing isn't the case, and you're talking about if it had been (but it isn't). In the equivalent example to the one just above, where it may or may not be true, it doesn't sound at all natural:  

*Has Sabine eaten the calamari, there'll be none left for us. 

(Remember the convention that an asterisk means that a sentence is not grammatical for speakers of the language under discussion.) 

And while if can be used with contracted negation (n't), inversion can't: 

If he hadn't seen the car coming, he would have been killed. 

*Hadn't he seen the car coming, he would have been killed.

Had he not seen the car coming, he would have been killed.

So there are some differences. But in the sentence I saw, where we began this, either would have been fine, because it was a counterfactual (she didn't need help), so inversion is ok, and if works in all conditionals so that would have been ok. So there's no reason to include both for covering more bases. It looks like one of those times when it feels like they mean something more than just using one of them, so you include both for the feeling of completeness. 

Monday, 14 February 2022

An ilk of that ilk

[Please note that this is a scheduled post, and I am taking part in the ongoing industrial action by my union, UCU.]

You should always learn something at a pub quiz, and I did recently: I learnt what ilk means, as in of that ilk. The question asked us about a phrase that is used generically to mean 'of that type' and specifically in Scottish English and Scots to mean 'of the same name or place'. I had no idea and was coming up with all sorts of nonsense like autochthonous. But of that ilk it was, and once we knew, it was so obvious! An example from the OED of it being used in this way is Wemyss of that ilk, meaning Wemyss of Wemyss. 

Reading the OED entry is really interesting because it was used to mean family or class, and you can see how that's related to the meaning above. But its origin is in a pronoun, it seems, which has come down to Modern English as each or which (Scots is descended from the same predecessor as Modern English is) and that meant same or alike. You could use it like that for a while, as in the OED's example from 1648, During this ilk time.... 

It still seems to be pretty widely used in informal contexts today, as a quick twitter search turns up plenty of examples. You'll be pleased to know, I'm sure, that there's also the occasional sighting of the eggcorn version of that elk. 

Monday, 7 February 2022

Catching criminals and watching them in the act

CW: mention of public indecency behaviour in the tweet linked and below, before we get to the linguistics. 

This reply to a tweet of Derren Brown's delighted me. The response is to a screenshot of a takeaway driver review in which the person says they 'caught the delivery guy playing with himself in his car for ten minutes': 

As Alan says above, you can't really catch someone doing something for ten minutes. Why not? 

This is what linguists call 'lexical aspect', and it's basically part of the meaning of the verb, but it also interacts with the tense and other features of the way you use it. It's why if you say I'll go for a walk in an hour you mean that an hour from now, you will go for a walk, whereas I finished my homework in an hour means that it took you one hour to do your homework, and I'll do my homework in an hour is ambiguous: you'll do it in one hour's time, or it will take you one hour to finish it. Notice that I'll go for a walk in an hour doesn't have this ambiguity because it's just not the type of verb that you can say how long it takes to complete. You can, however, say I'll go for a walk for an hour, and then you're expressing the duration of your walk. 

There are a few different systems of classifying verbs in this way, but let's go with the classic one: Vendler's system from 1957. On this classification, catch is what he termed an 'achievement': an instantaneous action, a point in time. While you might have a long build-up to the catching, like a year-long investigation and stake-out, the act of catching itself is an instant in time. Watch, on the other hand, is an 'activity', which is an ongoing process without a pre-defined end point. If it doesn't have a pre-defined end point, then you can specify how long it went on, as in this case (ten minutes). 

You can manipulate these classes, and for instance say that It took ten years to catch the criminal, and then although we're using a frame that specifies the length of the process, that length of time is actually the delay before the achievement takes place: ten years of meticulous planning and investigating, or perhaps alternatively bumbling incompetence. This is why, after the ten years is up, you might say We finally caught the criminal on Tuesday, after ten long years!. Compare this with an 'accomplishment' like write a novel: you can say It took ten years to write my novel, but you can't say I finally wrote my novel on Tuesday, after ten long years!. You'd have to say instead that you finished it on Tuesday, because write a novel includes the process leading up to the completion as well as the completion itself, unlike catch, which is just the completion and not the process. 

Monday, 31 January 2022

The pronunciation of plantain

 Please enjoy this nice linguistic observation made by someone on twitter: 

We'll deal with the minor quibble first: –tain is not a suffix in most of these words. For it to be a suffix, it would need to be at least somewhat productively affixable, and really it's just in these words as a remnant. In the verbs it's what we might call a 'bound base', as it comes from Latin tenere 'hold', so contain is 'hold with', maintain is 'hold in the hand', entertain is 'hold together', and so on. In the nouns it's more just an accidental similarity in that mountain, fountain etc come from French words montaigne, fontaine, etc. Plantain comes from Spanish plátano. 

So, not a suffix per se, but nevertheless, the observation seems to hold. The author of the tweet even provides the exception that proves the rule: bloodstain isn't pronounced like 'tin', but it's also not got the morpheme –tain (as it's part of stain). 

It fits with other noun/verb pronunciations, such as the stress difference on record depending on whether it's a noun (play a REcord) or a verb (reCORD the show). I listen to a lot of knitting podcasts and I've noticed this with repeat, which I would always say with final stress, which I put down to the fact that it's normally a verb. But it can be a noun, in knitting, as your pattern may have a certain number of repeats. While I would still give this final stress, quite a few of the podcasters (all American English, though I'm not sure if that's relevant) will say REpeat with initial stress when it's a noun. 

Our –tain tweeter is making a point about the pronunciation of the final example, plantain, which white people typically say with the 'tayn' version while Caribbean or West African people pronounce it 'tin', so it also functions as a helpful mnemonic in that sense and I for one learnt something here and haven't said it 'tayn' since. 

Wednesday, 5 January 2022

Behind the scenes: Diversifying reading lists

Decolonising universities has become something of a buzzword, guaranteed to turn Telegraph readers into frothing puddles of outrage. Every other week they publish an article about subjects getting ‘cancelled’ (also known as modules being updated) or lecturers being ordered to use Twitter instead of historical archives (also known as using an expanded range of sources). Well, buckle up, because that’s what my newest publication is about. Strictly speaking, it’s not decolonisation per se. That’s a deeper, longer, more transformative process that in my opinion might not even be possible without deconstructing universities as we know them. But the article is about diversifying the content of what we teach, and teaching it in a different, more inclusive, more culturally aware way, with the goal of creating a learning environment that is less hostile to students of colour.

This new paper, published today in the London Review of Education (https://doi.org/10.14324/LRE.20.1.01) is co-authored with 12 other people! The long list of authors is because it was really a collaborative effort and we wanted to recognise that, although the writing itself was done by the first four authors listed. The others contributed to the project design and the data collection and analysis, as well as bringing their insight and knowledge. Some of these people are colleagues in different schools at the University of Kent or from the university library, while others are undergraduate student researchers (some of whom have since graduated).

We report on an ongoing project at the university which reviews reading lists for modules in terms of their ethnic and gender diversity, and then supports teaching staff to increase that diversity if they want to do so. It’s necessarily optional, for several reasons: for example, we need to avoid alienating people who have a lot of freedom in their roles and often resent obligatory policies that they don’t see the purpose of (which is what has happened in the past when originally good ideas were imposed top-down without the rationale filtering through). It’s also got to be on top of an already overburdened workload, a problem we note in the article. Perhaps most importantly, the work is only meaningful if it’s done with care and genuine desire for change; simply bunging a few Black authors on the list is at best missing the point and at worst actively harmful. But for those who want to do the work, and are able to do so within their contractual constraints, the library staff and the Student Success Project team have worked up a whole lot of resources to help with this, so the idea is that small interventions like the one we report on can lead to longer-term change across the institution.

Working with the student researchers was the most rewarding experience. From the recruitment process onwards it was eye-opening to see how much they knew about the topic already, how committed they were, and how important it was to them. We specifically recruited (paid) researchers who themselves identified as from the category known in UK HE as ‘BAME’ (Black, Asian, or minority ethnic) as our methodology meant that it was important that they bring their own experiences and stories to bear on the work. One of the researchers in particular found an especial enjoyment of—and flair for—giving talks and presentations on the work, during which he was able to reflect on the importance of the project to him personally in a way that really helped the largely white audience to understand the purpose. He got rave reviews both in the department and at the conferences where we presented the work.

For me, a really interesting aspect was the interviews with staff. I interviewed 70-something members of the school, at all levels from graduate teaching assistants to the Head of School, and from academic and professional services teams. I approached these interviews in a very loose, informal way and kept them fairly short so as not to burden people and turn them against the project. Still, some conversations ended up being very long as people often had a lot to say! The most valuable of these, for me, were the ones that turned out to be a real conversation between me and the interviewee, both of us learning and discussing the topic, and ending up with action points or ways of proceeding with the goal of diversifying reading lists. Sometimes, this was with someone I’d never really spoken to before, but who then became an ally or a go-to person for further conversations, and someone who I knew was pushing forward the aims in their own departments. It also, unfortunately, revealed to me people who were set in their ways and refused to see any other viewpoint, or who believed that the goal was the obligatory, quota-driven approach dispelled above. You can’t change everyone’s mind, and nor should you necessarily, but I was keen to listen to people’s reasons for disagreeing with the goals of the project and sometimes those reasons showed a lack of understanding about how discrimination works and a lack of willingness to learn and grow.

This was my first truly cross-disciplinary project, working with (primarily) sociologists and library specialists and using theories and methods from their fields. Our primary theoretical tool was Critical Race Theory, also much in the press these days, which holds that racism is baked into our systems (in this case, reading lists, courses, university structures). CRT began as a legal theory but is applicable to fields beyond its origins, and has been used in education research before. It was this that helped us to determine our methods and the way we approached the qualitative data obtained from interviews, and it was the reason for the majority of the authors (and all of the student researchers) being people of colour, as the effect of lived experience is a crucial part of the work which I, as a white person from the Global North, couldn’t contribute. I was, however, happy that some of my linguistic practice did end up in the piece, in that the student focus groups I conducted, which produced some extremely rich data, were run following the methods of a sociolinguistic interview such as ones I’ve done in the past. Learning the theories, methods and conventions of a different field has been hard work, but it’s definitely been worth it.

If you click through to the open-access article, you can see the results of the reading list review of the departments in our study, the findings of the interviews with staff and students, and the outcome of the project in the form of the resources for shifting the balance to better reflect the population of our university.

Monday, 13 September 2021

To the kitchen!

I walked past a board advertising a new housing development and it boasted that the new flats would have integrated appliances to kitchen. This, I felt, is a nice example of Estate Agentese, a minority variety of English with a few unusual distinctive features. This variety seems to be acquired in adulthood, rather than as a native variety, when one becomes an estate agent and acquires the norms of the community. As such, it's likely to exhibit a lot of variation.

It's characterised by unnecessary verbosity, but at the same time greater levels of omission than are usual in standard English. So here, we have a redundant specification that the appliances are in the kitchen (where else would they be in a small flat without a utility room?), and a bare definite noun with no determiner (to kitchen rather than to the kitchen), which is also a feature of headlinese and other reduced written registers. We might also find high register vocabulary: they talk of aspect and premises and being well-appointed.

It was the choice of preposition that caught my eye here, though. This is a curious feature of this variety. Which preposition you use in any given sentence is notoriously difficult. You can rationalise all you like about the meaning of the word, but it is still a bit random at times. It's totally normal, for instance, to mention the dangerous creature either to your left or on your left. However, in standard English, you would expect a description of where the appliances are to be in the kitchen, not to the kitchen, which we would associate more with direction of movement. This might be a generalisation of its use in phrases like to the rear of the house. Or maybe it's an extension of the verb form of integrate, where you might integrate the appliances into the kitchen.

If you're a speaker of this variety of English, do chip in with your thoughts!