What's going down with the lingo?

Barbie turned 50 (with a bit of plastic surgery), we celebrated the 40th anniversary of the Moon Landing and closer to home, Dr Elizabeth Blackburn became the first Australian woman to achieve a Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine.

2009 like any other year had its share of milestones. 

But here's one you probably missed. According to the Global Language Monitor, English passed the 1,000,000 threshold on June 10, 2009 at 10.22 GMT to be precise.

Strangely I found this particular milestone a little depressing. 

English is the official language in 53 countries of the world. It's the first or second language in fact or nearly 2 billion people or roughly a third of the globe.

Yet despite its status as the dominant tongue, I have to say the old language ain't what it used to be.

The fact is, each day in so many ways I am struck by the many ways in which the the English language is bludgeoned and beaten, reduced to its most basic vowels and consonants.

Don't blame it on the Boogie.  Maybe blame the media or blame telecommunications.  But whoever you blame it on, English is in a parlous state. 

Although I have absolutely no science to prove it, I have a theory that the average person today has a far more limited grasp of the language than our forebears did, all those moons ago. It's rare to find anyone with a reasonable grasp of vocabulary that doesn't remember once believing Rock Hudson was straight.

I'm a case in point. I have a vivid recollection of myself as an 11 year old child, working through her "Nutcracker" book - the standard text in English classes across Australia - using words like: obstreperous, pusillanimous, adumbrated --- and so the list goes on. Alright I admit that perhaps I wasn't your average child (buck teeth notwithstanding) but nonetheless my point is that our English vocabulary is being slowly asphyxiated by the noxious gases released from society's increasingly dumber arse (the cheek of it!).

But there are arguments to support both cases - the lower being the argument for simple language, and the upper, for language that might stretch the brain to linger more langorously on the more laborious, perhaps lovelier elements of our lingo.

the lower case

As a communicator I have to admit that it's probably a case of extremely poor corporate writing to use a complex, obscure, usually multi-syllabic word when a simple one would do.  For example, I detest the word 'utilise' when the word 'use' is so much more powerful (I mean, 'He's just utilising you' just doesn't have the same ring as 'he's just using you', now does it?).

Simple Plain English serves clearer communication better and few would argue that you cannot effect communication if your audience doesn't understand you, comprende?

A large vocabulary can often be used to flaunt a level of education that doesn't necessarily reflect a superior knowledge. Often it can hide ignorance. It can obfuscate the issue; confuse it even.

Simple words, on the other hand, enable us to cross linguistic boundaries as nations become increasingly multi-cultural. Big words don't ameliorate anyone's communication situation. They don't even help!

Simple language facilitates understanding.  And simple language means most people at least can spell the words - although I wud not kount on it.

Indeed I am all for simple language in business communication and encourage you to avoid jargon (the argot of the professions) where possible - for purely practical purposes. The true power of any language lies in its simplicity ,after all. Documents prepared in good, simple English are quicker to scan and digest. When you are able to put your argument simply and concisely, you achieve greater clarity.

So how do you gauge just how simple a piece of writing is? One tool you may be familiar with is the Gunning Fog Index. I can't be shagged trying to explain what it is myself - here is what Wikipedia had to say:

In linguistics, the Gunning fog index is a test designed to measure the readability of a sample of English writing. The resulting number is an indication of the number of years of formal education that a person requires in order to easily understand the text on the first reading. That is, if a passage has a fog index of 12, it has the reading level of a U.S. high school senior. (The Courier-Mail, Queensland's only daily newspaper has a Fog Index of 8 by the way.) The test was developed by Robert Gunning, an American businessman, in 1952.The Gunning fog index can be calculated with a fairly time-consuming algorithm but as it's unlikely you'll have the time to work through it, a better tool is to look at the level of vocabulary you're using.

Using more complex vocabulary convey one of two messages to the recipient of your communique:  
1. That you consider him or her to be a well-educated person who can comprehend your language, a colleague of shared background; or
2. That you're a pretentious wanker.

Clearly therefore one must be careful about if, when and to what extent one turns up the Fog!

THE UPPER CASE

Still, regardless of the practicalities, the rationale and the plain good sense of simpler English, I believe there is also a very good case for choosing more advanced elements of our lingo should the opportunity arise.

Where appropriate, I am passionate about allowing communicators to indulge their vocabulary.  For example, I was beside myself recently when, upon watching that cinematic masterpiece 'The Ugly Truth', in a movie that had more references to oral sex than I care to mention, Katherine Heigl's character actually uses the word 'scatalogical' [It means filthy].

Literature, in particular, remains the key vehicle for the protection and even expansion of our language yet it's contentious that so many writers are routinely copy-edited down to the most basic of vocabulary.

The best example I have of this is my own journey in writing my first novel. Some time ago, I despatched my first draft to a manuscript appraisal agency for comment. This was some months after the Tsunami that devastated parts of the globe and I tell you this only because in that manuscript, and in the context of my story, I committed the heinous crime of using a word I was told was just 'too big'. That word was "seismic". I'm sorry. But hadn't we just had a tsunami involving an earthquake and, um, do you think maybe even a moron with carpet-burn on his knuckles might have been familiar with that word? Apparently not.

The point is that, as communicators, we should not be afraid of branching out from the comfort zone of our usual vocabulary. We should not be averse to dipping our nibs into that great lake of words to catch ourselves a word or a phrase that might stretch the reader's grasp of their own language. Certainly archaic, senescent or even antediluvian forms of the language should be avoided but how deleterious could be the effects of more elevated forms of the vernacular?

Successful, published writers particularly have the power to vouch for their words and they should!  Even if many words will not be understood by everyone, I believe that one role of literature is to inform and to educate. Some more complex, unusual or multi-syllabic words may even be appropriate in some contexts.

We cannot be reduced to mono-syllabic Neanderthals by a popular culture that daily struggles with even the basics of grammar.

As writers and communicators from all walks of life, we cannot let the English language go down without at least a little tussle.

As readers, we can support literature and other art forms that challenge both our language and our thinking.

Sure, read "Twilight" and download Foxy Bonkstar's animated boobs, but in between, forage amongst the pages of 'literature'.

You may be surprised at how many good stories are out there that hook you deeper into the rich sea that is the English language.

Now go fish!

Go Ahead, Make my Cliche

As someone with the blood of a mongrel coursing through her veins, part Scottish, Ceylonese and Belgian, I'm very sensitive to one of the cruelest criticisms against a writer, if not a human being - and that is, that one has sunk to the level of a cliche.

Cliches of course, breed like rabbits. One minute you're wandering around cool as a cucumber, thinking you're just the ant's pants because you stand out from the crowd, the next it seems that whatever you think or say is basically yesterday's news.

Now if you're poorly read, you probably don't have a prayer of spotting a cliche. Because it is only to the avid reader that a cliche will stick out like dog's balls.

Let me give you an example as to the utility of reading. Years ago, in 1982 to be specific, I was doing a creative writing subject at university. I wrote one of those bizarre stories that I still write today, bizarre, unusual, and worthy of my Scottish/Belgian/Ceylonese roots when I was mortified to have one of my painstakingly constructed metaphors circled in red pen and the word 'CLICHE' written next to it by my lecturer (incidentally, a well-known Brisbane poet).

My metaphor was this: "His hands fluttered as nervous doves."

Well, imagine my disgust when later in 1985, I was reading Peter Carey's award winning 'Illywhacker' only to find the exact same metaphor except in this instant, the fellow's hands weren't doves but birds.

PETER CAREY's editor did not pick up his cliche which had clearly been ripped off an 18-year-old's term assignment!

Indeed, the comparison of hands, with their capacity for infinite movements and the natural formation of wings by fingers is no great stretch for a writer.

I forgave Carey his calumny but my point is that it if it was difficult for the editor of a major work to identify a cliche then, how difficult must it be now?

Cliches are everywhere these days, packaged as 'archetypes', 'stereotypes' and 'formulae.' Regardless of how hard you push the envelope, in advertising, cinema and most creative forms, there's a sense of having seen it all before. Of having been there and done that.

That's why cliche spotting can be both a sport and a satisfying past time, whether you're a writer or not, and you should jump at the chance to find and exterminate these annoying critters, no holds barred.

Alternatively, if you're really hot to trot on that piece of imagery, with some sleight of hand that old cliche could have a new lease on life.

For example let's look at: "His hands fluttered as nervous doves."

The metaphor may metamorphosise with some tweaking into a host of alternatives.

His digits, fat as beaks, flicked here and there like toucans with tourettes. Perhaps. Or his fingers groomed imaginary wings. Maybe. Or his hands imagined shadow eagles. Hmm, it has potential. Or his fingers ruffled angry feathers. Better.

Culling the loathesome cliche is part of the hard work of writing. If it means you've got to get back to the drawing board, then such is life. After all, nothing worthwhile was ever easy.