Sue Butler - Rebel Without A Clause

The English language is changing constantly. We invent new words and phrases, we mash up idioms, we mispronounce, misuse, misappropriate. Sue Butler has heard it all and is ready to defend and disagree with common usage. Veering from tolerance to outrage, she examines how the word sheila took a nose-dive after World War II, considers whether we should hunker or bunker down, and bemoans the emptiness of rhetoric. She shouts down with closure as it leaps from the psychoanalysts couch, explains why weve lost the plot on deceptively, untangles the manuka honey stoush, fathoms why the treatment of famous is infamous, and ponders whether you would, could or should ...

Rebel without a Clause is a fascinatingly idiosyncratic romp through the world of words by lexicographer and former Macquarie Dictionary Editor, Sue Butler.

To Richard, with love

If your book isnt a story, what will you write about? asked Beena.

Anything and everything that I hear or see that relates to English, I replied. Like going to the dentist and having the dentist ask me: Which is correct: [duh-viz-iv] or [duh-vai-siv]? I told her you can say either, just the way you can say [shed-yool] or [sked-yool]. It doesnt matter.

Oh yes, said Beena, like route being pronounced as [root] and [rowt]. Beena installs software for companies and teaches their employees how to use it. I couldnt possibly talk about [rooting] pathways because everyone would giggle and look embarrassed. Root is a rude word. So I say [rowt] in that situation but then maybe [root] at other times.

And then there is the thong that women wear, which here is a kind of sandal! added Priyal.

And in South African Indian English we say [koat] instead of [kwoat] for a quote, said Beena. Mac says it all the time on the phone because he does a lot of quotes. Ive told him once or twice, but he doesnt listen. He is too old to change.

And they say [booth] for [boot]. Can you imagine that? said Beena.

Oh no, said Priyal, that is just family.

Oh really? said Beena.

But I can tell you, went on Priyal, that I say [skremd] instead of [skreamd]. I dont know how I came to pick that up. We laugh a lot about it, but I cant stop it. After all, you say [read] and [red], so [skream] and [skremd], perhaps?

Yes, thats possible, I said. Drawing a false parallel is a common enough mistake. And family pronunciations of words can be quite surprising and sometimes a family joke. Now I will just go home and write up this conversation about the vagaries of English pronunciation complicated by differences in varieties of English and personal idiosyncrasies and social taboos. There is really no difficulty in finding things to write about!

I was in the chair in the dentists surgery, feeling as if I was hanging upside down with a lot of plumbing and cutlery in my mouth, when the dentist asked, Which is the correct pronunciation: [duh-viz-iv] or [duh-vai-siv]?

My exact feeling at that moment was that I DID NOT CARE but I told myself sternly that that wasnt good enough for the former Editor of the Macquarie Dictionary and that I should treat this as a serious question. I thought that one pronunciation was earlier, the other was later, but, hampered as I was, I cut straight to the chase and said that both pronunciations turned up often enough for them to be regarded as acceptable variants.

The dentist was quite accustomed to interpreting the noises that come out of a patients mouth, so she got the message, but I felt she was mildly disappointed that she wanted me to support [duh-vai-siv] and spurn [duh-viz-iv]. She had the grace not to take her disappointment out on my tooth.

I checked up later and, indeed, [duh-vai-siv] was the earlier pronunciation and [duh-viz-iv] is one that has crept in more recently. The Oxford English Dictionary (OED) has [duh-vai-siv]; The Random House Dictionary of the English Language (an American dictionary) has [duh-vai-siv]; Websters Third has [duh-vai-siv], but notes that [duh-viz-iv] is also around; and Macquarie Dictionary has both, in that order. Google says that [duh-viz-iv] is an American regionalism, brought to notice by Barack Obama, and that for Canadians it is the first choice.

So I think that even after I emerged from the dentists chair, my first intuition was the right one. I dont care. This is a case of perfectly acceptable variation. There are occasions on which I can work up a lather of outrage, but this was not one of them.

As Editor of the Macquarie Dictionary I had to bear in mind that I was maintaining the neutrality of the dictionary, describing the situation so that users of the dictionary could make their own choices, not dictating what should be. What I thought should be. Mind you, it would be much easier if I could assume that role and I have often imagined myself as the great arbiter of style to a grateful nation, but it is not to be.

Even just as an individual, however, I would hope that my swings from tolerant to outraged are measured and balanced. Otherwise I will have become that creature of strident language purity, the pedant.

We should look at some of the choices to be made here and see if we can find a rationale for when to care and when not to care. We need to be a little bit cautious and consider possible causes for concern. Am I adopting a usage which I thought was common to the community but which is, in fact, a personal idiosyncrasy or, even worse, an error? Alternatively, is language change taking place and I am on one side (the out-of-date side) and other people are on the side that embraces the change?

The easiest way to illustrate being out on a linguistic limb (and how one gets there) is to take some of the common mispronunciations that occur, usually because the person has read the word but never heard it pronounced or has picked up a common mispronunciation and never realised that it is erroneous.

A friend of mine regularly visits a primary school in Hillston out past Griffith in New South Wales to run a music education week. Inevitably, she goes out to dinner with the teachers while shes there. I got a phone call from her one evening asking me to say and spell that word that is used for children who are causing trouble. I guessed mischievous and did as I was asked. I could hear the chatter around the table as the teachers expressed their astonishment. It had never occurred to them that [mis-cheev-ious] was wrong.

For an example of a man who had been out on a limb all his life, I give you the retired primary school principal who had, through his career in education, exhorted his students not to be obstropulous. Somehow in his retirement he had the worrying thought that this was not correct. I had to tell him that, indeed, the word he should have used was obstreperous. Obstropulous was British humour directed at the lower orders who were thought to make mistakes like this. He had obviously heard the word used and not realised it was a joke. The joke was pretty old it dates back to the early 1700s and the whole style of humour didnt really translate to Australia anyway.