Jeopardy

On Friday fellowship, the organisers decided to try a game they aptly called Bible Jeopardy. Each category corresponded to a book of the New Testament, and the values ranged from 100 to 1000. The questions, however, weren't exactly always worth the number of points they earned; a certain 200-point question was two-part, and seemed worth more like 1500 points.

Through the course of this game, however, it quickly became apparent why the nature of our gameplay was different from that observed on television. The questions themselves, while interesting, failed to conform to an unspoken Jeopardy standard, which would have allowed for the relatively simple formation of the corresponding question. Consider the following [real-life] jeopardy answer/question:

A: This gardening tool is also known as an immoral pleasure seeker.
Contestant X: What is a hoe?
A: ...
Contestant Y: What is a rake?
A: Correct!

Now, contrast that with:

A: Jesus created wine from something, in a certain place. (Identify both the something and the place.)
Most logically correct answer: What did Jesus do with water in Cana of Galilee?
Accepted answer: What is water, and Cana of Galilee?

---!?!??? One wonders how the organisers devised these questions. (Obviously though, none were grammatically knowledgable enough to have devised better questions.) A significantly better-phrased question would have been:

"Jesus turned this into wine at this place."
or
"Here was where Jesus turned this into wine."

Both would have elicited a much more natural "What did Jesus do with water in Cana of Galilee?"

Naturally, being a church-related activity, rigor for rules were not strictly observed (especially in the realm of grammar), although they were curiously adamant about source-citing (which verse did we specifically draw our answers?).

And to close off as I semi-normally do with a random fact or thought of the day: Never travel last-minute to university when you can do it the night before. It decreases sleep, and heightens anxiety.

Transliteration Troubles

Anyone who's ever experienced translating a document has probably encountered this before (unless the document was written in a xenophobic era), where they're forced to make a double transliteration from some (sommetimes unknown) first original language. For example, when I was translating a Japanese literary criticism on the Confucian Analects, it became more appropriate to look up the official English translations of the Analects than to try my own hand at translating the Japanese translation of Medieval Chinese into English.

But entire passages and famous quotes are a bit more bearable. When the issue is a single name, problems can arise. In order to evoke a sense of exoticism, I find that a lot of online aliases are constructed from quasi-Japanese phonetics. Even Raymond E. Feist, a successful fantasy author, uses Japanesque names for some of his aliens/other worlders. (Apparently, one of the ppl he consults for coming up with these names is in fact a person of Japanese ancestry.)

And that in itself is fine. English, being phonetically richer than Japanese, is able to easily transliterate Japanese words without losing too much phonetic information. (The notable exception being the /r/ debate, but since only one such sound exists in Japanese, there is no fear of overlap.) The problem, however, is going the other way around, where a phonetically richer language is forced to be pigeon-holed into a phonetically smaller language. Japanese, in fact, often does the same thing that fantasy writers will on this side of the world: they'll use European-sounding names to add a sense of exoticism for their [native] Japanese audiences.

And so, we come to the cause of this post, the movie The Cat Returns (猫の恩返し). In it, there is an interesting character by the name of Humbert "Baron" von Gikkengen. The weird thing about this phonetic transliteration of the last name is that an accurate transliteration would be "Jikkengen," but in either case, the name looks too Japanese.

Naturally, the first question we should ask is whether a European name exists that might be transliterated into Japanese as ジッケンゲン. Google being the wonderful search engine that it is, quickly turns up Franz von Sickingen, an apparently not-so-nice German Knight in the service of Maximillian I, and Charles V in the Holy Roman Empire (a particularly poorly named nation, as it was none of those things -- holy, roman, or an empire). It also seems to be part of several hyphenated place names in Germany. So a logical (and perhaps more accurate) English version of the Baron's name should be "Humbert von Sickingen, Bn."

But I suppose the producer people felt that the "sick-" in "Sickingen" wasn't particularly pleasant, and rightfully so (nevermind the relatively obscure historical figure that comes attached to it). But what about "Zichingen"? It's apparent from the transliteration that the original Japanese were trying to preserve the voiced quality of that first sound in the German name (ie, the /z/ sound in 「ジッケン」). and the "ch" instead of the "ck" obscures the name even more. But does it then run the risk of sounding too German? (Such a question seems a bit moot, given that the character already has the 'von' part.) And I'd dare venture to say that Zickingen or Sichingen look more naturally Germanic than the Japanesque "Gikkengen". (Incidentally, a google search for "Gikkingen" or "Gikkengen" both only return hits regarding the character from the movie. Which, from a marketing point of view, is pretty advantageous, unlike the title of some shows... *coughHOUSEcough*) And since it's a name of a fictional character, it doesn't seem entirely disadvantageous to stray slightly from the original (and limiting) transliterated Japanese name.

In Summary:
When translating (or as is often the case, back-transliterating) places and names, always first check for historical presidence. Why waste the effort of your [professional] predecessors?

Another fun fact in translation and transliteration: when Pearl S. Buck did her translation of 水滸伝 ("Water Margin" in wikipedia), she translated 花和尚 as "priest Hwa" instead of the more accurate "flowery monk". Despite her extraodinary fluency in the language, I suppose even she had things to learn about Chinese appellations.

Business Banter

The wonderful thing about keeping a language-related blog, is that it's difficult to run out of source material. Aside from the rich pages of research journals in this newer branch of study called Linguistics, language itself surrounds us (or at the very least, surrounds those who're capable of reading this blog).

So, over the weekend (the first of 12 long-weekends I plan to enjoy this term), I dug up some old movies: A Fish Called Wanda (1988), and Fierce Creatures (1997). Initially, it was to appreciate the role of Michael Palin more, being totally unaware of him and the Monty Python group when I first saw these movies as a child. And near the beginning of the second film, Fierce Creatures (which starred many of the same actors), Kevin Kline holds a conference call, and says this curious line:

"if this communiqué is in any way sleep-interruptive, I'll re-telephone you later,"

which, of course, should strike any native speaker of any variety of English as being non-standard. The comedy contained should be self-evident, making fun of the "professional" businessman (is "white collar" the common vernacular?), and his obvious ignorance on language and language use.

I could expand on the actual anomalies of the line, but I think it's brilliant, and beautifully illustrates the general demographic of the "professional" businessman. A businessman who obviously hadn't received a proper/real/decent education.

And the extraordinary thing is, aside from this common joke that seems to become more and more cliché, is that it seems in actual fact to be based on truth. In my relatively short life of a quarter-century, I've had friends who've gone into business, worked for people in business, and met people from other businesses than the one I was at. And despite the obvious individual characteristics, there were certain common traits found among them all: a general ignorance for higher classical education (as science or philosophy), and a general abuse of language.

Admittedly, nobody I've met has ever used language as terribly as to assume a communiqué is equivalent to a telephone call, or that sleep-interruptive is an accepted adjective. But they still create a certain structure of language that goes beyond mere jargon.

In terms of written communication, I find that most of the time, the business/administrative trendy are usually not so technologically updated. At least, that's the best excuse I can come up with to explain the appalling plethora of emails I received at work, completely void of structure and punctuation. And this, of course, makes me even more critical of small word choice.

One of the examples I abhor the most in "professional language" (or in reality, imitation language, spoken and perpetuated by this false rising "middle" class that totally should have been reigned in and subdued decades ago by the peerage), is the use of the two words in succession: "as per". What the frell is it supposed to mean! Does the latinate "per" magically make the businessman an educated individual? The extraordinary thing is that once people hear it for the first time, usually by some ignorant businessman, they assume that it's proper to use in professional speech, and thus a whole new generation regenerates this lingual travesty.

Do I have any acceptable alternatives? the critical reader may ask. And in fact, I do! Such phrases include: "according to," "as to," "following [your request]," and simply "per". Sample sentences:

"I did it as you requested"
"Following your inquiry, please find enclosed a copy of ---"
"The company has fullfilled the criteria, according to your specifications"
"All parties have completed their tasks per the contract"
etc.

So, really, why spread about more nonsense than necessary in the inherently flawed grammar of English? Speaking of which, something which became popular in my workplace was to end tag questions with "or no?" which was rather new to me. I was tempted to use it at first, until I realised that the reason why it sounded so foreign was because it was simply wrong. But I've blogged about that before, so no need to go there again.

So, please don't make any more sleep-interruptive communiqués that will require a later re-telephoning.

Egghead Expressions

Being the extraordinary geek that I am (or, to put it more nicely, being the avid and thorough intellectual), I decided to look up and watch the first few episodes of the original Doctor Who series (1963), with William Hartnell as The Doctor.

Aside from the obvious differences in cinematic freedom and convention, there were some linguistic issues that caught my attention. Watching a science-fiction show half a century afterwards is revealing in the way that science has actually progressed, as well as the vocabulary that it's developed. Things that the scriptwriters hoped would sound "scientific" may end up sounding tautological or empty.

The first of the two lines which caught my attention was the Darlek's use of the verb "explode":

"We will have to explode another neutron bomb"

Very odd phrasing. Why might that sound odd to us today? The verb "explode", which in contemporary experience is used commonly in the passive, is also almost exclusively used in the intransitive. But is there even a historical basis for a transitive "explode"?

According to the OED, there is! But the most recent cited examples extend from the early 1800s, which seems reasonable to then assume it hasn't been in common usage since. Therefore, a sesquicentury later, it would still seem odd to use "explode" in such a way, and of course, two centuries later, it would definitely sound unnatural. In any case, wouldn't "detonate" or "ignite" have sounded more scientific anyway to the scientists of the 'sixties?

The second, which perhaps accesses a more common experience, was (again) the Darlek line:

"Displaying [surveillance video] now on frequency six"

Most people nowadays might have said, "now showing [blah] on screen", or "on channel six". But to say "frequency six" sounds odd, especially when the units of frequency isn't offered.

Sorta makes one wonder how hollow Startrek expressions will sound to our science-minded grandchildren. Or, will they perhaps set the standard for such new technologies in the future?

Slippery Slang

Today I was reunited (to use an antiquated term) with a friend from HS. Having recently graduated from the Musical Theatre program at Sheridan, his linguistic register is significantly different from mine. One might describe it as "theatre speak". The speech regularly employed by those in the performance industry, most often used by actors and singers, but also regularly identified in movie producers, directors, etc.

In the course of our conversations today, I was exposed to various curiosities of English, and several artifacts of slang. Most of the time, I was able to guess the correct polarity of his odd phrases (which usually fell into the polar category of being good or bad). One, however, was particularly bewildering for me. He had described himself as being "the sh*t" for a certain performance, which had me guessing whether he meant that he was an exemplary dancer for that performance, or whether he had failed miserably.

Apparently, it means the former. When someone is described as "the sh*t", apparently it means that they are most excellent. On the other hand, if they are described as being "sh*tty", it doesn't. Similarly, if someone "shat" their exams, it does not mean that they passed with flying colours.

This does, however, remind me of another word now used in common vernacular: "bomb". If someone is described as being "the bomb", it's supposed to be a testament to their excellence or their expertise. If they "bombed" something, on the other hand, it means that they failed it miserably. Incidentally, to describe someone as being "bombastic" isn't exactly a positive thing.

Cinematic Standards and Realily

Speech is a funny thing. I remember in HS, I would either hear these ads on the radio, or read them in the newspaper, that for an easy course of 6 classes, I could expand my vocabulary and earn the respect I deserve.

Yes, it is true that language shouldn't be a mark of social class, but in this modern world it is necessary to know when it's appropriate to maintain a professional tone, and when it's acceptable to speak vulgarly.

The receptionist of the George V hotel in Paris from the movie French Kiss offers a wonderful set of examples of professional language, wherein, despite his obvious discomfort, he does not directly engage in verbal combat with Meg Ryan's character, but rather phrases things as politely as possible. For example:

Concierge: Welcome back, madame, to the George V.
Kate: It's incredible how do you that. The words come out "welcome back", but the meaning is completely different. What's the deal, is that a French thing, or a concierge thing?
C: As madame wishes.
K: [paraphrased] See, you did it again! Do you enjoy being this rude? Because when you do, it makes me REALLY ANGRY!
C: Thank you madame for the fascinating lesson in our cultural differences.

It goes on, but you get the point. Movies on some level try to imitate real life, but on the other hand eliminate some of the things that would actually happen in real life -- slight slips of the tongue, for example. Every native speaker has at some point in their life, corrected themselves in midspeech. And yet, it seems that the image effected by A Few Good Men is shattered (first by Judge Judy), and now by the hearing of Lurita Doan found here.

One would assume that an individual with an MA in renaissance literature, under investigation by a federal agency, could afford to speak a little bit more professionally than Ms. Doan manages to in this video. Perhaps the definition of "candid" needs to be re-examined. Language log already has a nice post on her grammatical blunderings, so I won't talk about that.

But really. What kind of person under investigation would effect a professional air, and then say things like "when it was investigated by you guys..." and "...at the beginning of the proceedings, we got into a little spat".

On a side note, the voice of Congressman Christopher Shays sounds SO much younger than he looks. If I were to draw a cartoon character for him to voice, I totally would have chosen an adolescent skater or surfer. Nothing like the voice of Christopher Ryan, whose voice is soo addicting. I totally want to sound like that when I'm a professor. :)