one seraph is enough to sing about

Today I was listening to a beautiful rendition of 'Let the bright Seraphim' by Lesley Garrett and I thought seraphim would be a plural noun, based on the rules of the Hebrew language. But was the singular seraph?

Yes, my computer's dictionary said it was.

But it's a back-formation, a word formed by deleting the suffix from 'seraphim'. The Princeton WordNet explains a back-formation as 'a word invented (usually unwittingly by subtracting an affix) on the assumption that a familiar word derives from it.' For instance, the verb burgle came into use because of the mistaken assumption that burglar is a noun formed by adding the ar ending.

As William Safire said in the New York Times, "People do not consciously work out the backward step, but they have a sense that burgle is to burglar what sail is to sailor."

The Online Etymology Dictionary dates the first use of seraph to 1667, by Milton, and suggests he formed this singular noun by analogy with cherub/cherubim.

I guess Milton wouldn't have had much experience with Hebrew plurals used in English, as they're not common. Nowadays there are only a handful in use. Laurie Bauer, in the book Morphological Productivity, says there are probably only cherubim, seraphim, kibbutzim and goyim in regular use.

After considering all this information I was left with the question: what did people before 1667 call one of the seraphim?

Maybe they just didn't talk about them.

millionth word in English?

When is a word a word? According to most dictionaries, there are about 600,000 words in English, but the Global Language Monitor reports that it has so far tracked about 900,000, and that a new word is added to the English language every 98 minutes.

Paul JJ Payack, president and chief word analyst at the Monitor, quotes the Middle English definition of a word as 'a thought spoken'..."which means if I say a word, and you understand me, it's a real word."

I read about this on Boing Boing. The original article at Smithsonian.com explains the difference between the methods used by traditional dictionaries and the algorithm used by Global Language Monitor, who expect the millionth English word to be coined around April 2009.

becoming a locavore

I discovered a new word just now, one that appeals to me on many levels: it was coined by women; it expresses a hopeful view of what we can do to avert climate catastrophe; and it quickly achieved inclusion in the New Oxford American dictionary. In fact, it was declared by Oxford University Press USA as the 2007 word of the Year.

The word is locavore and was invented recently by four women in San Francisco. It defines a person who tries to eat only food grown or produced within a radius of 100 miles. Such food is said to be more nutritious, to taste better, and to use less fuel in transportation.

I support the concept expressed in this new word, though I have read it can be better to transport food from a distance if it comes from a more environmentally efficient source than the local one.

Enthusiasm for the ultimate in local produce - my own garden - prompted me to browse the Net and I was researching this topic when I came across the word locavore on a site called Edible Garden.

A class at Bulleen Art and Garden last night has filled my head with plans to transform our garden into a rich harvest of vegetables and fruits. However, a little voice does whisper, 'Yes, but it has to rain!' (We've just had the driest September ever recorded.) On the other hand, there are also more classes promised, on the use of recycled water, so I guess I should stay hopeful. The teacher, Karen Sutherland, showed us photos of her own productive and beautiful garden.

I guess I'm not the only one full of hopeful plans, because I heard on the radio today that the growing of vegetables in the home garden has become hugely popular in the US, Britain and Australia.

naprons, neologisms and an elegance efficiency

On Radio National today a well-spoken man repeatedly said, 'And that's a whole nother issue.' He'd probably be surprised to listen to a replay of the program and hear his mangling of the word other.

Yet his accidental changing of a common word echoes a historic process. A woman tying an apron around her waist doesn't think about napkins or napery, because the n has migrated from the article to the noun and hidden the etymological relationship between the three words.

The Merriam-Webster New Book of Word Histories tells the story of this word-evolution and also of the transformation of nadder(serpent) into adder.

When we speak it's often hard to distinguish the boundaries of words. My mother’s elderly friend invariably stopped eating before her plate was empty, wiped her lips neatly with a folded serviette and announced, ‘No more for me, thanks. I’ve already had an elegance efficiency.’ This idiosyncratic turn of phrase died with her, unfortunately.

phwoar, it's lubricious

I learned one... no, two... new words today. The Telegraph, in the UK, ran a story about the inclusion of phwoar in the Oxford English Dictionary of Modern Slang.

I pointed out the article to my sister and said I'd never heard the word, and she said, 'Of course you have. Phwoar!'

If it's an 'expression of enthusiastic or lubricious approval', then I suppose I should be embarrassed to admit it's new to me. Surely I've walked past a few building sites in my time. How come no-one wanted to lubriciously approve of me?

Lubricious - that's the other new word. My computer dictionary says, 'offensively displaying or intended to arouse sexual desire'.

Maybe I looked so elegantly poised the workers didn't want to impose on me by expressing their approval.

And if you'll believe that you'll believe anything.

to apostrophe or not to apostrophe

A sign on a parked car caught my attention today - Dyson group of companies. I was sitting in the sunshine outside a vet clinic, having voted with my feet to enjoy the fresh air rather than be crammed into the busy waiting room.

A bus had broken down at the nearby stop and I enjoyed watching the consequent comings and goings.

Finally I noticed the bus had Dysons written on the front. Aha, that explained the man with the clipboard who'd climbed out of the car and gone to talk to the driver of the bus.

Why Dysons on the front of the bus? Why not Dyson?

Maybe a plurality of Dysons ran the bus company.

Or perhaps the word was a possessive; the bus was Dyson's property. If so, why was there no apostrophe?

In 1966 the Geographical Names Board of Australia decided placenames and street or road names in text, maps and public signs would be written without an apostrophe.

About twenty years ago the final act of a retiring principal at a local school was to climb a ladder and insert the apostrophe in the school's name - Pender's Grove Primary School. It's gone now (the apostrophe, not the school).

Sadly, he was twenty years too late to fight that battle of names, because the school was named after a place.

However, I still wondered about the Dysons question.

The official Australian Style manual says on page 86:

A possessive apostrophe is not necessary in the names of institutions, professional and industry bodies and other groups.

Perhaps the car had the clue after all; Dyson GROUP. Maybe they read their Style Guide and noted page 86.

our plastic brains

There's a photo in the South Australian State Library showing a group of children playing with plasticine. Looking at it takes me back to those restful moments in my classrooms when all the children were busy (and happy) rolling out sausages of plasticine and creating fantastic sculptures with the untrammelled imaginations of childhood.

Plasticine, a soft modelling clay, was invented in 1897 and teachers loved it because it didn't stick to children's hands and it could be used repeatedly without going hard. I presume its name was based on the concept of its plasticity.

I've been thinking about the word plastic since I listened to
All In the Mind yesterday on Radio National. It was called The Power of Plasticity and was one of the most reassuring programs I've heard. The basic point was that our brains are capable of development as long as we are alive.

We long ago realised children's brains are malleable. That's why we concentrate so much of our resources on schooling in the younger years. But recent research indicates that our brains are plastic all through life. What we think about actually builds the structures in our brains. A thrilling concept. Since I listened to the show I've been walking around saying, 'I have a good memory. I have a good memory.' I hope I can remember to keep doing it...

I digress. Back to plastic. The Online Dictionary has the word being used as far back as 1632 in the sense of something capable of being shaped or moulded. The noun meaning 'solid substance that can be moulded' is dated from 1905- originally dental moulds.

The modern usage, a 'synthetic product made from oil derivatives,' seems oddly non-plastic to me. If I pick up a plastic container, I don't expect it to be malleable, especially if it's holding hot liquids. If I give it any thought at all, I would presume the plasticity was a necessary part of its formation into its present shape.

In terms of my brain, I hope the formation process never stops. 'Use it or lose it'. It comes down to that, I suppose.

One especially interesting aspect of the radio program was the statement that the brain and the mind are not the same - a challenging concept for me.

Yesterday's program was only part one. I'll be tuning in to part two.