Our Magnificent Bastard Tongue
Posted by Neal on November 3, 2009
“Hey, Doug, listen to this,” I said. “This guy’s writing about how different English is from related languages like German and Swedish. He says:
English’s Germanic relative are like assorted varieties of deer — anteloopes, springboks, kudu, and so on — antlered, fleet-footed, big-brown-eyed variations on a theme. English is some dolphin swooping around underwater, all but hairless, echolocating and holding its breath. Dolphins are mammals like deer: they give birth to live young and are warm-blooded. But clearly the dolphin has strayed from the basic mammalian game plan to an extent that no deer has.
Doug and I were sitting in the front hallway of Adam’s school, waiting for his class to let out. While we waited, I was reading John McWhorter’s Our Magnificent Bastard Tongue: The Untold History of English. (Not to be confused with Derek Bickerton’s Bastard Tongues; see below.) Now I understand that new FCC rules require me to notify readers when I’m reviewing a piece of blog swag — i.e. free stuff that people from marketing departments send to bloggers in hopes of favorable mentions or reviews. So I’ll say right now that I got this book courtesy of the publicity department at Gotham Books. And to make the existing record clear, I also received free copies of The Unfolding of Language and Forbidden Words, as noted in the reviews I wrote. I also got Grammar Girl’s first book this way, though I didn’t mention this fact in the review. Books that I’ve bought or borrowed myself and reviewed or mentioned include:
- Bastard Tongues
- Don’t Sleep, There Are Snakes
- Dreaming in Hindi
- Just a Phrase I’m Going Through
- Biting the Wax Tadpole
- Um
- Word Myths
- Eats, Shoots, and Leaves (children’s version)
- The Power of Babel
That last one was also by John McWhorter, and I liked it so much that when I was offered a review copy of his latest book, I accepted right away. But, you ask, if I was so eager to read it, why didn’t I lay hands on a copy of it myself last year, when it came out in hardback? The fact is that I just wasn’t terribly interested in reading another history of English. I watched the PBS miniseries on it in the late 1980s; I have my own copy of Baugh and Cable’s history; shoot, one of the things that really got me interested in linguistics was reading the history of English in that World Book Encyclopedia supplement back in high school (which I’ve mentioned once). And if I wanted to read another one, I could borrow my wife’s copy of Bill Bryson’s The Mother Tongue (though I’ve been warned that Bryson’s works tend to contain a lot of errors, and I see this one perpetuates the Eskimo snow-vocabulary fiction in its first chapter). “Untold history?” I thought. “No, it’s been told a lot.” But with a free copy, delivered to me, I figured I couldn’t go wrong.
When I read the first page of the introduction, I suddenly realized that McWhorter really did have a different plan for his story. He observes that the usual story is almost always just about the different words that English acquired during its ~1500 years: its original Anglo-Saxon lexicon, the Viking additions, the flood of French, and the classical additions from Latin and Greek, and of course all the words from languages around the world that it’s taken in. He’s right. As I thought back on the histories of English I’d read, they always focused on the words, with occasional excursuses into topics like the Great Vowel Shift or the loss of a lot of inflectional endings. McWhorter’s complaint about this story is twofold. First, lots of languages borrow vocabulary from other languages, to an extent comparable with English. Second, when you focus on just the words, you miss what really does make English unusual: the large quantify of syntax and morphology it has lost compared to other Germanic languages, and the truly rare syntax that it has picked up from some decidedly un-Germanic source. This oversight reminds McWhorter of
…someone who has fitted out their ranch house with a second floor, knocked out all the nonsustaining walls, and added on a big new wing on both sides, and yet month after month, all any of their friends mention when they come over is two new throw rugs. [NW: Hey, did you notice the wide-scoping relative pronoun in there?]
There; that makes two analogies that were so good I thought them worthy of blockquotes, and they’re both just from the introduction. McWhorter has a gift for coming up with these (or more likely, he works really hard at it, like I should do). Elsewhere in the book, he explains concepts and arguments by way of:
- the first McDonald’s
- male hair loss
- Monopoly vs. Clue
- a family that plays the piano with their feet
- autumn leaves
- a bike that falls apart under its rider
- a trashed, vandalized, and burglarized car
- Botox and liposuction
…not to mention the best mnemonic I’ve heard in a while: Volvos, Vermeers, Volkswagens, and volcanoes. I won’t explain here what any of the analogies or the mnemonic is trying to explain, because that would just spoil them for you.
So what is McWhorter’s untold story of English, then? In Chapter 1, he presents arguments that the source for two of English’s odd syntactic features — progressive tenses and do-inversion in questions and negation — are imports from the Celtic languages spoken in England before the arrival of the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes. This is a disputed conclusion, and McWhorter doesn’t try to hide this fact. He does, however, make his arguments passionately and persuasively. Furthermore, he gives an intelligent presentation of (as far as I know) each argument against his position, and not only rebuts it, but also offers his hypothesis as to why intelligent people would find it convincing in the first place.
In Chapter 3, he tackles the wholesale loss of inflectional endings in English, as well as a handful of other peculiarities of Germanic syntax that English alone has lost. Where other histories note that the endings were lost or reduced, McWhorter goes on to ask, why? Sure languages change, but why is it English alone among its Germanic relatives that has lost so many of them? He lays the blame on the Vikings. Their language was similar enough to Old English in vocabulary for speakers to get by, but different enough in its case- and tense-markings that when the Viking settlers spoke it, they reduced them to the lowest common denominator. Again, he presents objections, and not only rebuts them but takes his best shot at explaining why people would have these objections in the first place if they’re so wrong.
In Chapter 5, McWhorter jumps back in time to consider not English but its ancestor Proto-Germanic. Among the Indo-European languages, the Germanic branch has some peculiarities of its own that are well known, but as yet unexplained: primarily Grimm’s Law and the “strong verbs” that mark past tense by a change in vowel and nothing else (e.g. sing/sang). He argues that the same kind of thing happened here as happened with Celtic and Norse: circumstances arose such that a language (English, or in this case, Proto-Germanic) came to be spoken by a large population of adults who had grown up speaking some other language. This other language’s syntax infected the Proto-Germanic or English as spoken by these new speakers, and these new speakers were numerous enough that their “wrong” way of speaking it became the future mainstream variety. The other language suspect this time is a Semitic language, probably Phoenician. (It reminds me of what Michael Erard wrote about Chinese speakers of English.)
A fascinating story, and even if it’s speculative, it’s necessarily so, given that the action takes place either before written records existed, or among speakers who didn’t write. But for each speculation, McWhorter offers well-documented examples of similar things that are known to have happened with other languages: Xhosa, Jamaican patois, Russian, Dravidian languages, Hebrew, Manchu vs. Chinese, Mandarin vs. Altaic. I did have some minor objections, though. For one thing, McWhorter seems to say that historical linguists don’t like to use clues to piece together stories of what happened to a language (that is, they prefer playing Monopoly to playing Clue), but the entire comparative method of historical linguistics is based on doing just that. ample, McWhorter seems to claim that Russian is unusual among Indo-European languages in indicating possession by saying something is “to me” instead of saying “I have” something. But I remember learning about this “dative of posession” in high school Latin and French.
Meanwhile, what about chapters 2 and 4? These chapters strike me mainly as filler, in order to make a full book out of his Celtic/Norse/Phoenician bastardization story, albeit entertaining filler. Chapter 2 is yet another (he admits) probably doomed attempt to show why many prescriptive grammar rules have no rational basis. The connection to the rest of the story is that none of the currently popular complaints about English grammar concerns anything close to the kind of profound changes in grammar described in Chapter 1, which still resulted in a language deemed to have correct grammar. In this chapter McWhorter makes a curious observation about what he claims is a frequentative suffix: -le. Listing words such as nibble, wiggle, fiddle, and juggle, he notes that “[a]ll of them have to do with rapid, repetitive movement….” One of the words on the list is nipple. The semantic connection between nipples and rapid, repetitive movement probably says more about McWhorter than about the suffix -le.
Chapter 4 is a thorough debunking of the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, with some of the material mined from his well-written rant on Language Log. The connection to the rest of the story is that … well, I can’t remember what the connection is.
Lastly I’ll note some petty annoyances with Our Magnificent Bastard Tongue: There are too many repeated question marks for rhetorical questions, and McWhorter repeatedly (and almost exclusively) uses as such as a pure connective. These and my earlier complaints, however, were outweighed by the fascinating and entertainingly presented pieces of the history of English that were completely new to me.
Update, 3 Nov. 2009: One addition to the list of analogies, and the sentence discussing Clue vs. Monopoly.














Frogman said
After this review, I feel like buying the book.
The beginning is a bit of a red herring, though. After you mentioned Doug, I expected one of those charming accounts of how your kids are learning and using English. I understand your point was just that McWhorter’s vivid analogies could appeal even to a child, but I feel frustrated that you didn’t mention how Doug reacted.
One point surprised me. You write “I remember learning about this “dative of posession” in high school Latin and French.” I remember Latin expresses possession this way (Mihi est canis), but French?? Could you please give me an example? Are you thinking of sentences like “C’est à moi”?
Ran said
There are a number of situations where French uses a dative-y construct (either à + object, or an indirect object pronoun) for a possessor. Examples of various types include « C’est à moi », as you mention, as well as « ma chambre à moi » (“my room”, with special emphasis), and « il m’a coupé les cheveux » (“he cut my hair” or “he gave me a haircut”). I’ve never heard any of these called a “dative of possession” — I imagine that by the time I learned French (late 90s), Latin-y terms like “dative” were not in vogue among French teachers — but it seems like a fairly reasonable name for them. (As far as that goes, anyway. Anglophone learners of French never sit around wondering what case to use, so it seems rather pointless to list, let alone name, the various uses of each.)
Frogman said
Thanks Ran. The “il m’a coupé les cheveux” example makes perfect sense to me. The verb has got a direct object: “les cheveux” (“the hair”, not “my hair”) and an indirect one: “m’” (“to me”), and there is a relation of possession between the indirect object and the direct one.
Neal said
Actually, the term I learned for “m’a coupé les cheveux” is the Greek accusative, not the dative of possession. Ran’s other examples are in fact what I had in mind, and I don’t think I’ve heard the term dative of possession applied specifically to them: I just imported that name from what I learned about Latin and Greek.
Ran said
Wouldn’t “Greek accusative” imply that it’s a direct object? With me/m’- you can’t tell, but it is definitely indirect: « je lui ai coupé les cheveux », « il a coupé les cheveux à son amie », etc.
Neal said
Hey, you’re right. I was only thinking about the commonality of expressing something like “his/her hair” as “him/her … the hair”, and forgetting the little detail about the pronoun being an indirect object instead of direct.
Gordon P. Hemsley said
In that regard, doesn’t Spanish (and, by extrapolation, all Romance languages) have them, too?
Neal said
I know Spanish does; not sure about the others.
The Ridger said
I find it odd to think of the Russian construction as a ‘dative of possession’ – the preposition (U) doesn’t govern dative, but genitive. Russian is loaded with dative constructions (I’m cold = to-me cold), but this isn’t one of them.
Neal said
Oh, maybe that’s what McWhorter was trying to emphasize, then. From his description, it just sounded like a dative of possession.
Michal Boleslav Měchura said
For those of us not planning to buy the book, any chance of a summary of how he debunks the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis?
I’ve just read the “well-written rant” on Language Log and I’d say it isn’t actually an argument against Sapir-Whorf, it’s just a warning against reading too much into polysemy. Which is a fair point but it doesn’t debunk Sapir-Whorf.
Does he reveal any new weapons in the book?
PS: By the way, I agree that this guy has a talent for smart metaphors and generally for smart writing. The “rant” *is* exceedingly well-written.
Neal said
OK, for you, I’ll do it. Let’s see…
The overall idea is that Sapir-Whorf is an interesting and profound-sounding hypothesis in broad, general terms, but the closer you look at it and try to see how it applies to specific languages, the more ridiculous it gets.
First of all, some of Whorf’s data was simply wrong. Whereas he said Hopi had no means of indicating tense, in fact it does have the means.
Second, languages change. Do the changes in English syntax reflect changes in speakers’ attitudes? For example, he asks, did our use of do with questions and negation come about because English speakers became “uniquely alert to negation and questionhood”? Not likely. Conversely, cultures that really have changed do not have grammars that have radically changed from earlier generations. For example, McWhorter notes that Russia has gone “from brute feudalism under the tsars to Communism to glasnost to the queer blend of democracy and dictatorship of today. Yet Russian grammar during that time has always been the marvelous nightmare that it is now.”
The part that you saw in his LL post fits into his argument like this: It’s silly to claim that some other culture is uniquely attuned to some exotic, nuanced concept because of (or as evidenced by) the existence of some word that has no simple English equivalent. English has words for concepts just as specialized, and it’s no big deal.
McWhorter also notes that the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis was born in a time when many non-Western cultures were often labeled as primitive. In its proponents’ attempts to counter these claims, it becomes paternalistic in its own way, such that it’s always the exotic, less familiar language whose speakers have the more interesting or enlightened worldview. The one time a guy did a study showing that compared to Chinese speakers, English speakers were better at discerning degrees of hypotheticality (presumably because of its more explicit marking in English: if I am/were/had been, etc.). The conclusion was of a piece with other Sapir-Whorfian conclusions, yet “people shot at [him] like he was a varmint.”
About the most that can be said about Sapir-Whorf these days is that experiments show “language does have some glimmers of effect on thought”; “perceptual differences of a subtle, slight, and subconscious nature, not ‘world views.’”
Michal Boleslav Měchura said
Thanks for the summary. It seems that he is arguing against what’s known as the strong version of Sapir-Whorf. I think it’s become quite accepted now that this version does not hold water. The weak version, however, does (the “glimmers of effect on thought”): http://multikulti.wordpress.com/2009/08/16/linguistic-relativity-fact-or-wishful-thinking/
Neal said
Fair enough. Thanks for the link to your post.
kip said
So if I want to read one of these “history of English” books, which one would be better to start with?
Neal said
Shoot, I’d say start with this one! But if you want to try one of the others, I’d recommend MacNeil’s The Story of English (companion to the TV series), and maybe even Bryson’s The Mother Tongue. Even with the warnings I’ve heard about him, he’s still an entertaining writer, and the broad outlines are probably accurate. Can’t say more there, since I haven’t read the book yet.
John Cowan said
The Mother Tongue has about one error per page, as you can see by examining the available snippet at Google Books. When I got as far as I was going to in it, I didn’t even donate the book to Goodwill, as I usually do — I wouldn’t want any virgin minds contaminated by its rubbish. I threw it in the trash, something I have not done with a physically intact book in more than 30 years.
Gordon P. Hemsley said
What is this word, “excursuses”? Excursions? Excuses?
(I promise I’m not grumpy today.)
Gordon P. Hemsley said
Also, I feel obliged to admit that your review has made me want to read this book, as well.
Neal said
http://www.aolsvc.merriam-webster.aol.com/dictionary/excursus
Gordon P. Hemsley said
I figured there was a high chance it would turn out to be a real word, given Muphry’s Law.
Flesh-eating Dragon said
The notion of proto-Germanic being influenced by a Semitic language is completely new to me, and something I’d be interested in learning more about (e.g. why Semitic; why Phoenician; where would the encounter have occurred geographically; how does that fit in with our knowledge of migrations; etc).
The other topics hold far less fascination for me, in many cases because I’m already familiar with the basic idea.
John Cowan said
Well, there’s a confluence (okay, a small confluence) of evidence that Germanic was once part of Eastern Indo-European. When Don Ringe’s team at Penn did their (very careful, comparative-method-based, not to be confused with various idiots who have tried it and us) phylogenetic analysis of the branching order of Indo-European, they found that there was no consistent tree unless they treated Germanic specially. The best and safest assumption turned out to be that Germanic was once a satem language, or at any rate the nearest sib to the satem core group, but that its speakers migrated west and massively replaced their vocabulary with Celtic and Italic cognates. Their main paper (71-page PDF) lays this out in detail; more recent papers here.
The other point is a snatch of very archaic Old Norse verse in the Saga of Heidrek the Wise, which refers to hunting under Harvaða-fjǫllum. If we run Harvað- through Grimm’s Law backwards, we get *Karpat-, showing that the remote ancestors of the Germanics spent time hunting under the cliffs of the Carpathians.
Which at least makes the notion of a Semitic contact somewhat more plausible.
Neal said
Thanks for the very relevant and informative links, and for the Old Norse datum.
Jason Bontrager said
For some reason, this post reminds me of a line from _Little Fuzzy_, by H. Beam Piper.
“And you know what English is? The result of the efforts of Norman men-at-arms to make dates with Saxon barmaids in the Ninth Century Pre-Atomic, and no more legitimate than any of the other results.”
Neal said
Amy West posted the following on the American Dialect Society listserv:
Neal said
Amy West also had this to say:
Neal said
John McWhorter writes in response to Amy West:
Neal said
Amy West had some more to say after reading the book. With her permission, I’m pasting in her email message to me.
Vex, Hex, Smash, Smooch « Literal-Minded said
[...] condensed history of English, including a summary of the relevant parts of McWhorter’s Our Magnificent Bastard Tongue, and the obligatory excerpts from Beowulf and The Canterbury [...]