Why I Love This Crazy Language

Captain Caaaave Maaaan!

It occurred to me this week that I’ve written many times lately about grammar misuse in a very negative light, basically bashing the grammar-challenged over the head with a blunt blogject. It further occurs to me that this maaaaaaaay not be the best way to lure the on-the-fencers away from the dark side that is grammarcide.

So I’ve decided to take another approach and make today’s post about why I love this kooky language of ours so much. Hopefully by the end of this piece my lovely readers will understand that my bashing of bad grammar isn’t purely out of snobbery; it’s out of an earnest desire to preserve the richness and the meaningful structure of the language. If anything, I’m a mama bear protecting her favorite cubs.

I’ll start with an example from one of my favorite authors. I love, love, love, love LOVE Isaac Asimov (Did I mention that I love him?), not for his prose, but for his story-telling, suspense-building, and his sharp analytic mind. Reading his robot novels is a master class in science fiction and analytics all in one. Last week I was reading The Robots of Dawn and came across a passage where Elijah Baley, our hero, was trying to explain the difference between the words ‘homicide’ and ‘murder’ to a robot. By definition these two words are the same and so the robot makes no distinction, but Baley has to try to explain why a human would scream ‘Murder!’ rather than ‘Homicide!’ when witnessing the act.

And why is that?

Those two synonymous words, like so many so many in our language, have evolved their own emotional value through usage, through cultural development, and through association. At some early point people may not have made any distinction between the two, but now we reserve the word homicide for describing the legal nature of the act, and murder for the emotionally charged, teeth-clenching, fear-inspiring nature of the act.

Now think of some other similar words from a writer’s POV. This is where my love of our fantastically diverse and complex language comes into play; when it comes to the thesaurus I’m like a kid at the world’s most gigantic and nerdy vending machine. For fun, I’m including a short list of other synonyms without a definable distinction. Take a look at these and think about the way they make you feel; if you use one instead of the other in a sentence, does it change the image you want to convey?

Worried, Apprehensive, Fraught

Weak, Frail, Spineless

Hungry, Famished, Ravenous

Fat, Obese, Beefy

Smile, Grin, Leer

Arrive, Appear, Pop-in

Surprise, Overwhelm, Dumbfound

Real, Solid, Absolute

Some of these are more subtle than others, but they are still the key device in the writer’s tool box and the most important part of the picture we want the reader to paint for themselves. What are your favorite synonyms to add to this list?

I have been guilty of this, too

Swashbuckling Grammar Pirate

Today’s blog might be the most important blog I have ever written. I have decided, after yet another blunder today, that I must share the annoying information in my head or suffer blow after blow to my own sanity for the rest of my natural tenure on this world as a Grammar Nazi Avenger (yeah, I’d like to see Marvel take that one on, too).

The Set Up: All names and identifying references have been changed to protect the innocent. Though, mind you, they were NOT innocent of committing accidental grammar-cide.

Person chatting in my office: “Oh, I always have someone else do that. Caulking isn’t really my forté.”

Me, sitting in my chair and cringing: “Um, you know, that word actually... oh, nevermind.”

The Anatomy of a Sword

What you have just witnessed is a shortened version of a very complex mental train-wreck of thought. As I heard the last word in her sentence pronounced as the oh-so-common two syllables, what I wanted to say was this (picture me in a tweed professorial jacket as I speak deferentially of etymology and linguistics):

“You know, what you have stumbled upon is actually a very common and interesting mispronunciation of the word ‘forte.’ You see, it all stems from a misunderstanding of the obscure French origin of the word in this use in combination with the much more frequently seen Italian musical term of the same spelling. Indeed even more so due to the somewhat synonymous meaning of the words. When you intend to use the word as a description of your strengths you are actually invoking a French fencing reference that describes the strongest point of a sword: the ‘forte,’ (pronounced like ‘fort’). Weaknesses similarly are described using the word for the weakest point of the sword: the ‘foible.’ Therefore, fortes and foibles = strengths and weaknesses. The Italian version, pronounced ‘fortay,’ is the musical reference for playing loudly or strongly, thereby explaining the confusion especially among people with a musical background. It's really quite amusing, isn't it? I said isn't it?”

I’m sure it doesn’t take much imagination to envision the blank and/or glazed looks I would get had I actually let that come out of my mouth. Hence the abbreviated version that started with ‘Um’ and ended with ‘nevermind.’ And because this pronunciation of the word is so very common, if I try to use the term correctly people give me that smug look that is tantamount to pointing fingers and laughing that the grammar nazi got something wrong. Either they try to correct me, at which point I have to go into the long explanation given above and the glaze goes over the eyes, or they just sit there looking smug, at which point I FEEL like I have to go into the long explanation given above and the glaze goes over the eyes.

So, over time, I have just made myself avoid using this term at all and even make myself choke back the lofty correction I so yearn to deliver. The phase “Blank is/is not my forte’ has been forever lost to my conversational repertoire, and sometimes I do lament its passing while cursing the English teacher who pointed this out to me in high school. Perhaps this is one case where ignorance might have been bliss.

The First Fist Pump Ever.

The Solution:

And this is where I decide that constantly ignoring this abuse of language is just as bad as condoning it (not to mention that I selfishly just want to be able to use this phrase again without entering into the above conflict). To kick off this campaign which I shall code name "May The 'Forte' Be With You", I have shared this knowledge with you, my lovely readers and fellow writers and language lovers, in the hope that you will all go forth and spread the word, educating the masses and freeing me from my vocabulary paralysis.

If we put our minds to it, together WE CAN TAKE BACK THE FORTE!!!!!!!!

Until then, my friends, May The 'Forte' Be With You.'