A Norwegian smörgåsbord

norwegian_sign_cropped

Okay, “smörgåsbord” is a Swedish borrowing, but close enough. It’s appropriate for this post, which will be a buffet of miscellaneous facts about the Norwegian language.

I became interested in and started learning Norwegian because my brother has been living in Oslo for the past several years, where he is getting his Ph.D. in lichenology.[1] My family and I traveled to visit him last summer. To characterize the country in a few words, I’d say Norway is – more iconically – Vikings, fjords, trolls, nature, Norse mythology, and – more personally – lichens, stellar black coffee, gross sweet brown cheese, overly-restricted booze-purchasing hours, part of my paternal ancestry, and vampires.[2]

Heddal stavkirke (stave church), built in the early 13th century

So what’s cool about Norwegian?

Dialects

First (as I mentioned in one of the recent dialect posts), Norwegian forms a dialect continuum with Swedish and Danish, languages with which it is, to a greater or lesser extent, mutually intelligible. These are Scandinavian or North Germanic languages, along with Icelandic and Faroese. My brother, who now has a decent command of Norwegian, says he can understand Swedish relatively well too, although Danish is harder. Have a listen to differences between Danish and Norwegian in this video.

However, there are also a staggering number of Norwegian dialects spread across Norway. People claim it’s often harder to understand someone from a different part of the country (for example, Oslo inhabitants vs. speakers of trøndersk, a group of sub-dialects in north-central Trøndelag county) than it is to understand a Swede speaking Swedish. Wikipedia corroborates: “Variations in grammar, syntax, vocabulary, and pronunciation cut across geographical boundaries and can create a distinct dialect at the level of farm clusters. Dialects are in some cases so dissimilar as to be unintelligible to unfamiliar listeners.”

There are two official standard forms for the written language, even if there is no standard for spoken Norwegian (since local dialects rule in most situations). Bokmål (literally “book tongue”) is used in the majority of publications, and Nynorsk (“new Norwegian”) in under 10% of written communication.

Lexicon and Morphology

Onto smaller language-y bits: words and morphemes. Norwegian is super fun because it is prone to extensive compounding (like German), and these compounds often break down into etymologically amusing or charming pieces. By this I mean that the component words reveal interesting (but usually sensible) semantic relationships with the larger compound. Let me give you some examples:

Norwegian compound English word Individual morphemes
fruktkjøtt “pulp” frukt (“fruit”) + kjøtt (“meat”)  ⇒  “fruit meat”
matbit “snack” mat (“food”) + bit (“bite”)  ⇒  “food bite”
sommerfugl “butterfly” sommer (“summer”) + fugl (“bird”) ⇒  “summer bird”
morkake “placenta” mor (“mother”) + kake (“cake”)  ⇒  “mother cake”
verdensrommet “(outer) space” verden (“world”) + s (possessive) + romm (“room”) + et (“the”)  ⇒  “the room of the world”
skyehus “hospital” skye (“sick”) + hus (“house”)  ⇒  “sick house”
grønnsak “vegetable” grøn (“green”) + sak (“thing”)  ⇒  “green thing”
støvsuger “vacuum cleaner” støv (“dust”) + suger (“suck[er]”)  ⇒  “dust suck[er]”
flaggermus “bat” flagger (“flying”) + mus (“mouse”)  ⇒  “flying mouse”
piggsvin “hedgehog” pig (“spike”) + svin (“pig”)  ⇒  “spike pig”

Morphosyntax 

rommegraut_cropped


Rest stop on the road back to Oslo. Rømmegraut is the Nynorsk word for a traditional porridge – kind of like cream of wheat, but sweeter and topped with butter.

One facet of Norwegian morphosyntax that was novel to me is the structure of its determiners. In English, both definite (“the”) and indefinite (“a / an”) articles are independent words that always precede their noun or noun phrase. So we have:

“the house”          “the big blue house”
“a house”             “a big blue house”

The same is true for the Romance languages I know about (French, Spanish, Italian), the other Germanic language I’m familiar with (German)… and it is simply not relevant for the Asian languages I’ve dabbled in (Japanese, Cantonese) because they lack articles entirely.

In Norwegian (as well as in Swedish and Danish), indefinite articles are, familiarly, the independent words which precede the noun, while definite articles are actually suffixes, which attach to the end of the noun they modify. What’s more – if you place something in front of the noun, like an adjective or a number, there’s another set of determiners to use, called demonstratives (in English: this, that, these, those). These precede the noun phrase (adjective/number + noun), where the noun already contains its definite suffix. Again, a table might help illustrate:

Norwegian (Bokmål) determiners

Indefinite articles

Definite articles

Masc. singular

Fem. singular

Neuter singular

Masc. singular

Fem. singular

Neuter singular

en

ei

et

-en

-a

-et

en sykkel
“a bicycle”

ei jente
“a girl”

et hus
“a house”

bilen
“the car”

døra
“the door”

huset
“the house”

Demonstratives + noun phrase

den

den

det

den røde bilen
“the red car”

den røde døra
“the red door”

det røde huset
“the red house”

Because Norwegian and English are closely related in their linguistic genealogy, a native English speaker may have less trouble learning Norwegian than, say, Taa (also known as !Xóõ, a southern African language with possibly the largest phoneme inventory in the world, including dozens of clicks) – but as the determiner situation here demonstrates, it’s still no piece of bløtkake.

IMG_20180708_100933

View (!) from our rental house deck on Hardangerfjord

Phonology and Prosody

Norwegian is what’s called a pitch-accent language. There are roughly three categories of languages when it comes to stress and pitch. Here’s a super abridged breakdown [3]:

  1. Stress-accented languages

Stress (emphasis) is placed on a syllable in a word, or on a word in a phrase/sentence. This can create a difference in word meaning, but it doesn’t have to. Stress is a combination of loudness, length, and higher pitch.

  • Example languages: English, Czech, Finnish, Classical Arabic, Quechua, Italian
  • Example words/phrases [English]:
    • On a word in a sentence (no difference in meaning) – “I REALLY like your jacket”
    • On a syllable in a word (meaning difference) –

NOUNS vs. VERBS
REcord vs. reCORD
INcrease vs. inCREASE
PERmit vs. perMIT

  1. Pitch-accented languages

A syllable on a word/morpheme is accentuated by a particular pitch contour (instead of by stress). So only pitch is involved, not loudness or length. Distinct tonal patterns occur in words that otherwise look and sound the same, giving them different meanings.

  • Example languages: Norwegian, Swedish, Japanese, Turkish, Filipino, Yaqui (a Native American language)
  • Example words/phrases [Norwegian]:
    • Norwegian has two kinds of tonal accents or pitch patterns:

ACCENT 1 (ACUTE) and ACCENT 2 (GRAVE)

(Audio extracted from video by “Norwegian Teacher – Karin”)

hender – “hands” vs. hender – “happens”
ånden – “the spirit” vs. ånden – “the breath”
bønder – “farmer” vs. bønner – “beans”
været – “the weather” vs. være – “to be”

  1. Tonal languages

Each syllable of the language has an independent tone or pitch contour. Tones are used to distinguish between words (they create a difference in meaning between words that otherwise look and sound the same).

  • Example languages: Mandarin, Cantonese, Thai, Zulu, Navajo, Yucatec (a Mayan language)
  • Examples words/phrases [Mandarin]:
    • Tones combine with the syllable ma, resulting in different words:
  1. “mother” [high level tone]
  2. “hemp” [mid pitch rising to high pitch]
  3. “horse” [low with slight fall]
  4. “scold” [short, sharply falling tone]
  5. ma (an interrogative particle) [neutral, used on weak syllables]

 

The pitch-accent feature of Norwegian contributes to the language’s sing-song quality. Just listen to the melodiousness of Norway’s King Harald V as he gives a speech:

(Audio extracted from full NRK video)

Orthography

Norwegian writing uses the same Latin alphabet as English, except that it has three additional letters at the end – æ, ø, and å. I highly recommend insist that you watch this ridiculous video to hear how the vowels are pronounced, as well as be entertained in musically nerdy fashion. (Final note: Contrary to the video’s main argument, several letters – c, q, w, x, and z – are not actually used to spell Norwegian-native words, although they’re sometimes used in loan words. One could therefore quibble that they shouldn’t count towards the alphabet size…)

vowels_cropped

 

 

[1] If you want to ogle some gorgeous macrophotography of lichens, scope out his Instagram, https://www.instagram.com/lichens_of_norway/.

[2] The ancient stave churches for some reason reminded me of True Blood (plus three of the show’s main characters, Eric, Pam, and Godric, were Swedish and Norwegian); also I was coincidentally reading The Vampire Lestat while we were there… but NO I’m not generally obsessed with vampires.

[3] This subject gets really complex. There are a lot more subtleties and distinctions than I make above.

Semantics 101 for Caterpillar Inc.

catvscatvscat

It seems that the world’s largest manufacturer of construction equipment, Caterpillar Inc., is in serious need of a basic semantics lesson. I came across this article a couple days ago:

“Santa Cruz coffee shop with ‘cat’ in its name hit with cease and desist from Caterpillar Inc.”

Beyond the ridiculousness of a giant corporation going after a tiny local café, what struck me as even more absurd was the following:

  1. Even if the trademarked ‘CAT’ of Caterpillar Inc. was an oft-used clipping (shortening) of the full word ‘caterpillar’ (and so indicated that wriggling, butterfly-metamorphosing insect), it would not be the same word as the ‘cat’ of the café’s name – “Cat and Cloud Coffee” – which refers to the common feline house pet. These would be homonyms – words which are spelled alike, but have different meanings.[1]
  2. As it is, no one ever calls the aforementioned insect a ‘cat’ (not that I’ve heard, anyway). So the trademarked term is something else entirely. It has its own unique sense, which can in fact refer to at least two related things: (a) a particular machine produced by the company, or (b) the company itself. Obviously, neither of these are that purring, internet-beloved animal either. They are yet another set of homonyms.

Totally different words. Totally different senses. The news piece doesn’t say this explicitly, but most people possess an intuitive understanding, as evidenced by quotes from café customers:

“’I don’t think anyone correlates the Caterpillar company with their big yellow massive trucks with a small café,’ said Rick Tawfik, of San Jose. ‘I mean, I never thought about Cat and Cloud and Caterpillar in the same sentence until we heard about this lawsuit.’

‘I don’t think they have a legitimate case,’ added Emma Davis, of San Jose. ‘I don’t think I would ever confuse the two of them. It doesn’t make sense to me.’”

Caterpillar’s trademark lawyers apparently lack such common sense, or are (more likely) willfully ignoring it.

 

[1] Etymologically, hundreds of years ago, the terms could have been related, in that (according to the Oxford English Dictionary) the Middle English word for ‘caterpillar’ catyrpel may have derived from the Old French chatepelose (literally “hairy or downy cat”)…but enough time has elapsed between now and the 11th century that it’s not reasonable to claim a modern meaning connection. Does anyone you know think of caterpillars as “hairy cats”?

*Photo attributions: CAT excavator; Caterpillar; Pet cat

I heart hangry bagel droids (or: How new words form)

The_fin_de_siècle_newspaper_proprietor_(cropped)

You’re probably familiar with the old adage “the only thing that’s constant is change.” Still, so many people tend to think about language as a relatively fixed affair. I’ve said it before (and will inevitably say it again): all living languages change all the time, and at all levels – phonological (sounds!), morphological (word-bits!), lexical (words!), syntactic (clauses!), and semantic (meaning!).

Historical linguistics (also known as diachronic linguistics) is the study of how and why languages change over time. In this post I’m going to discuss categories of change at the morphological and lexical levels – how new words come into being. In the future, I’ll explore semantic and perhaps phonological change.

Without further ado, here are the main mechanisms of word formation. Almost all examples are for English, but these formation types apply to other languages as well. (NOTE: Processes are not mutually exclusive. It is quite possible for a word to undergo multiple processes simultaneously, or one on the heels of another.)

  1. Derivation

New words are born by adding affixes to existing words. Affixes are bound[1] morphemes that can be prefixes, suffixes, and even (for certain languages, although not really for English) infixes and circumfixes. Derivation is a very common process cross-linguistically.

Zero derivation (also known as conversion) is a special case where a new word, with a new word class (part of speech) is created from an existing word of a different class, without any change in form.

Examples:
(Derivation) hater [hate + -er], truthiness [truth + -i (-y) + -ness], deglobalization [de- + globalization], hipsterdom [hipster + -dom]

(Zero derivation) heart as verb, as in “I heart coffee” [heart as noun]; friend as verb, as in “he friended me on Facebook” [friend as noun]; green as noun, in the golf lawn sense [green as adjective]; down as verb, as in “Hector downed a beer” [down as preposition]

  1. Back-formation

This process creates a new word through the removal of true or incorrectly assumed affixes. It’s kind of the opposite of derivation. This one is easier to explain through examples:

New word

Derived from older word

Analysis

donate, automate, resurrect

(verbs)

donation, automation, resurrection

(nouns)

The nouns were borrowed into English first from Latin. The verbs were back-formed later by discarding the -ion suffix, which speakers did through analogy with other Latinate verb and (-ion) noun pairs that already existed in English.

pea

pease

The older form was initially a mass noun (like water or sand), but was reanalyzed as plural. People then dropped the “plural” -s(e) to form the “singular” count noun pea.

beg, edit, hawk

(verbs)

beggar, editor, hawker

(nouns)

Speakers mistook the -ar, -or, and ­-er on the ends of these nouns (respectively) for the agentive suffix (that did/does exist in English), and removed it to form corresponding verbs.

lime-a-rita, mango-rita

appletini, kiwini

margarita

martini

Actually examples of folk etymology, which is related to back-formation. Here, speakers incorrectly assumed that -rita in margarita and –(t)ini in martini were separate morphemes (indicating the class of cocktail). Under that assumption, they switched out the rest of the word and substituted it with morphemes indicating new twists/ingredients.

  1. Blending

Also known as portmanteaus. Blends are produced by combining two or more words, where parts of one or both words are deleted.

Examples: smog [smoke + fog], brunch [breakfast + lunch], infomercial [information + commercial], bromance [bro + romance], hangry [hungry + angry], clopen [close + open][2]

  1. Borrowing

Also known as loan words. These are expressions taken from other languages. Pronunciation is usually altered to fit the phonological rules of the borrowing language.

Examples: algebra [from Arabic], ménage à trois [from French], whisky [from Scots Gaelic or Irish], bagel [from Yiddish], doppelgänger [from German], karaoke [from Japanese]

  1. Coinage

Words can be created outright to fit some purpose. Many of these are initially product names.

Examples: Xerox, Kleenex, Jell-O, Google, zipper, Frisbee

  1. Compounding

Two or more words join together to form a compound. Frequently the joining words are nouns, but they can belong to different parts of speech, including verbs, adjectives, prepositions, etc. Compounds can be separated by spaces, by hyphens, or glued to each other with nothing intervening.

Examples: homework, grocery store, mother-of-pearl, first world problem, binge-watch, weaksauce, fake news

  1. Eponyms

These are words that derive from proper nouns – usually people and place names. If a proper noun is used frequently enough and across multiple contexts, it eventually becomes a common noun (or verb or adjective).

Examples: sandwich [after the fourth Earl of Sandwich], gargantuan [after Gargantua, name of the giant in Rabelais’ novels], boycott [after Capt. Charles C. Boycott], mesmerize [a back-formation from mesmerism, in turn after Franz Anton Mesmer], sadism [after the Marquis de Sade]

  1. Reducing

Several types of reducing processes exist.  The main ones are clipping, acronyms, and initialisms.

a. Clipping

New words can be formed by shearing one or more syllables off an existing longer word. Syllables can be removed from the word’s beginning, end, or both.

Examples: fax [facsimile], flu [influenza], droid [android], fridge [refrigerator], blog [weblog]

b. Acronyms

Words are created from the initial letters of several other words. Acronyms are pronounced as regular words (in contrast to initialisms below).

Examples: NASA [National Aeronautics and Space Administration], RAM [random-access memory], FOMO [fear of missing out]

c. Initialisms

Also known as Alphabetisms. Like with acronyms, a word is created from the initial letters of other words, but the resulting term is pronounced by saying each letter. This usually happens when the string of letters is not easily pronounced as a word according to the phonological rules of the language.

Examples: NFL [National Football League], UCLA [University of California, Los Angeles], MRI [magnetic resonance imaging], WTF [what the fuck]

  1. Reduplication

Reduplication is one of my favorite phenomena.[3] It’s a process whereby a word or sound is repeated or nearly repeated to form a new word/expression. This is a productive morphological process (meaning, it’s part of the grammar and happens frequently and rather systematically) in many languages – South-East Asian and Austronesian languages particularly (e.g. Malay, Tagalog, Samoan). It’s not an especially productive process in English, although it does still happen.

Examples:
(English) wishy-washy, teensy-weensy, goody-goody, cray-cray, po-po

(Samoan) savali [‘he travels’ – third person singular + verb]; savavali [‘they travel’ – third person plural + verb]

* * * * *

Phew! Since hopefully you can see the light at the end of this long lexical tunnel, I’ll mention that of course languages lose words as well. Diverse factors motivate word loss, but that’s a subject for another post. A few quick examples of words that have fallen out of favor in English:

pell-mell [in a disorderly, reckless, hasty manner]; davenport [couch/sofa – my grandma used to say this]; grass [for marijuana – my mom still says this]; porridge [an oatmeal-like dish boiled in water or milk]; tumbrel [a farmer’s cart for hauling manure]; fain [gladly or willingly]

* * * * *

And now… ADD WORDS TO THE SPREADSHEET – Word shenanigans!

I’ve got almost 200 in there to start us off. If you’re not sure about the process for any particular word, just leave it blank or take a guess. Free bagel droids[4] to all who contribute.

 

[1] Bound meaning they cannot exist on their own, but must be attached to another morpheme.

[2] Describes a shitty situation where one has to work a closing shift followed by an opening shift. We used this term as bartenders, although I’d never seen it in print until recently. It came up in some paperwork I had to sign relating to work week ordinances, and then I saw it here as well.

[3] Some languages even have triplication – where the sound/word is copied twice!

[4] Kidding! These do not exist outside of my head. Sorry.

The Drunken Dictionary: etymology of cocktails (part II)

aviation_snug

Back again, with some more cocktail origin stories! This time we’ll be delving into the emergence of gin-based drink names. During my bartending days a common response we gave to underspecified requests for custom cocktails was, “would you like something spirit-forward or citrussy?” If the customer chose the former, we’d mix them a drink with distilled liquids and liqueurs only. If it was the latter, we’d include juice (most often lemon, lime, or grapefruit) and potentially other non-alcoholic mixers (syrups, infusions, sodas). As a little homage to that question, I’m including a balance here – the below exploration has two “spirit-based” elixirs, and two “juicy” ones.

As with the last post, each cocktail has an etymological description and quote of first attested use from the Oxford English Dictionary (OED). There’s also a recipe based on those we used at my last bar.

GIN

Gimlet_SethAnderson_Flickr_cropped     Gimlet

The OED states that 1928 was the first print reference for this versatile gin potable. In D. B. Wesson’s I’ll never be Cured:

“The ‘Gimlet’ we were introduced to..at the Golf Club: and it proved to be the well and flavorably known ricky, but described as ‘gin, a spot of lime, and soda’.”

However, the drink, along with its name, almost certainly came to be several decades earlier. There are at least two hypotheses concerning its etymology. Gimlet may derive from a tool of the same name, used for drilling small holes and tapping casks – since the cocktail had similar ‘piercing’ or ‘penetrating’ effects on its drinker.[1] The Dictionary reports that this tool term comes from Old French guimbelet (modern French gibelet). Alternatively, gimlet might be named after British Navy Surgeon Thomas Gimlette, who, starting in the 1870s, was said to have dosed his sailors’ gin with lime cordial to help combat scurvy on extended sea voyages.[2]

Recipe

  • Add to shaker tin:
    • 0.75 oz simple syrup
    • 0.75 oz fresh-squeezed lime juice
    • 1.5 oz gin (for dryer, I recommend Plymouth or Aviation; for botanical, St. George Terroir or Uncle Val’s)
      • Use 2 oz gin if you like it a bit stronger
  • Add ice, shake, then double-strain into coupe/cocktail glass
  • Garnish with lime wheel, wedge, or peel

 

Martini_JenConsalvo_Flickr_cropped     Martini

Can you imagine a time before what seems like the most classic of all cocktails? According to the OED, one of the earliest mentions of this spirituous beverage is 1887, in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Sample the bewildering depths of the ‘Martini cocktail’.”

Oxford English Dictionary reveals that the drink was first called a Martinez, likely taken from the name of a western California city where the libation is thought to have originated. The name twisted into its current form after the arrival of Italian liquor manufacturers Martini e Rossi (who applied for U.S. trademark in 1882); the company’s dry white vermouth was an integral part of this simple cocktail.

Recipe

  • Add to mixing glass then stir with ice:
    • 0.5 oz dry white vermouth (I recommend Lo-Fi Dry, Vya Extra Dry, or Dolin Dry)
    • 2.5 oz gin (for dryer, I recommend Plymouth or Aviation; for botanical, St. George Terroir or Uncle Val’s)
  • Strain into coupe/cocktail glass
  • Garnish with olives or lemon peel, per preference

 

negroni_snug_cropped     Negroni

Another strong but refreshing gin concoction is this vermillion delight. We initially hear about it (per the OED) in 1947, in the Coshocton Tribune (Ohio):

“Orson Welles, working in ‘Cagliostro’ in Rome, writes that he’s discovered a new drink there—Negronis. It’s made of gin, Italian vermouth and Campari bitters. ‘The bitters are excellent for your liver, the gin is bad for you. They balance each other.’”

If you hadn’t already guessed, the word stems from Italian. The OED asserts that it was “the name of Count Camillo Negroni, the Italian aristocrat who is believed to have invented the drink in the 1930s.”

Negronis pair well with a Saturday afternoon, a hot sun, and an outdoor café.

Recipe

  • Add to mixing glass then stir with ice:
    • 1 oz dry gin (I recommend Plymouth or Aviation)
    • 1 oz red vermouth (I recommend Punt E Mes or Carpano Antica)
    • 1 oz Campari
  • Strain into coupe/cocktail glass or rocks glass (add ice if desired)
  • Garnish by spritzing orange peel over top of glass to add its oils; add peel to drink

 

Corpse_Reviver_2_Wikimedia_cropped     Corpse Reviver (#2)

Despite its disturbing name, the Corpse Reviver #2 is juicy and tart, with a smidgeon of absinthe adding lip-smacking complexity. The Oxford English Dictionary gives us this quote from the Birmingham Daily Post in 1871:

“And our American refreshment bars, In drinks of all descriptions cut a dash, From corpse revivers down to ‘brandy smash’.”

Wikipedia cites an even earlier reference – a mention in the magazine Punch, or The London Charivari in 1861:

“[…] that ‘officer of the Government’ expectorated twice with a marked gaiety of manner, and after liquoring up a Sling, a Stone Wall, and a Corpse-Reviver, he merrily danced forth into the middle of the room, and sang a pleasant song with an agreeable refrain: –”

Both sources could in fact be writing about the Corpse Reviver #1, a very different recipe (with cognac, calvados, and sweet vermouth) but who knows. No. 2 has been a much more popular request during our modern-day cocktail renaissance. Both 1 and 2 are informally known as hangover remedies, which was probably motivation for the name. Now what’s the etymology for “hair of the dog”?

Recipe

  • Add to shaker tin:
    • 0.75 oz fresh-squeezed lemon juice
    • 0.75 oz Cointreau
    • 0.75 oz Lillet Blanc or Cocchi Americano
    • 0.75 oz dry gin (I recommend Plymouth or Aviation)
  • Add ice, shake, then double-strain into coupe/cocktail glass
  • 2 dashes absinthe on top of drink
  • Garnish by spritzing orange peel over top of glass to add its oils; add peel to drink

 

[1] https://www.etymonline.com/word/gimlet
[2] WayBack Machine: Royal Navy

*Photo attributions:
Aviation (post header) and Negroni (actually it’s a Scotch Boulevardier) by Zack Schwab (co-owner of The Snug, along with my good friend Jacob Racusin); Gimlet by Seth Anderson; Martini by Jen Consalvo; Corpse Reviver by Will Shenton.