Language Idiosyncrasies and Lipograms
A week or so ago, one of my sons sent me an amusing online post; it highlights the ‘flaws’ of the English language. This got me thinking about other languages and repetition.
My adaption of the original post is as follows ... I arrived at school today to teach, and all the plans that I had had had had no effect on the outcome of the lessons!
How can such a sentence be grammatically correct, yet contains had four times in succession? This led me to research other languages and similar repetitive examples.
TRUE actually!
It’s famously possible in English to form a perfectly grammatical sentence by repeating the word buffalo (and every so often the place name Buffalo) a total of eight times: Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo essentially means “buffalo from Buffalo, New York, who intimidate other buffalo from Buffalo, New York, are themselves intimidated by buffalo from Buffalo, New York.”
Such repetition is known as an antanaclastic sentence; tongue twisters like these are by no means unique to English.
The following link offers some fascinating examples
Malo malo malo malo // Latin
On its own, malo can be a verb (meaning “I prefer,” or “I would rather”); an ablative form of the Latin word for an apple tree, malus (meaning “in an apple tree”); and two entirely different forms (essentially meaning “a bad man,” and “in trouble” or “in adversity”) of the adjective malus, meaning evil or wicked. Although the lengths of the vowels differ slightly when read aloud, put all that together and malo malo malo malo could be interpreted as “I would rather be in an apple tree than a wicked man in adversity.” (Given that the noun malus can also be used to mean “the mast of a ship,” however, this sentence could just as easily be interpreted as, “I would rather be a wicked man in an apple tree than a ship’s mast.”)
Far får får får? // Danish
Far (pronounced “fah”) is the Danish word for father, while får (pronounced like “for”) can be used both as a noun meaning “sheep” and as a form of the Danish verb få, meaning “to have” Far får får får? ultimately means “father, do sheep have sheep?”—to which the reply could come, får får ikke får, får får lam, meaning “sheep do not have sheep, sheep have lambs.”
Eeee ee ee // Manx
Manx is the Celtic-origin language of the Isle of Man, which has close ties to Irish. In Manx, ee is both a pronoun (“she” or “it”) and a verb (“to eat”), a future tense form of which is eeee (“will eat”). Eight letter Es in a row ultimately can be divided up to mean “she will eat it.”
Como como? Como como como como! // Spanish
Como can be a preposition (“like,” “such as”), an adverb (“as,” “how”), a conjunction (“as”), and a verb (a form of comer, “to eat”) in Spanish, which makes it possible to string together dialogues like this: Como como? Como como como como! Which means “How do I eat? I eat like I eat!”
Á á á á á á á // Icelandic
Á is the Icelandic word for river; a form of the Icelandic word for ewe, ær; a preposition essentially meaning “on” or “in;” and a derivative of the Icelandic verb eiga, meaning “to have,” or “to possess.” Should a person named River be standing beside a river and simultaneously own a sheep standing in or at the same river, then that situation could theoretically be described using the sentence Á á á á á á á in Icelandic.
Mai mai mai mai mai.” // Thai
Thai is a tonal language that uses five different tones or patterns of pronunciation (rising, falling, high, low, and mid or flat) to differentiate between the meanings of otherwise seemingly identical syllables and words: glai, for instance, can mean both “near” and “far” in Thai, just depending on what tone pattern it’s given. Likewise, the Thai equivalent of the sentence “new wood doesn’t burn, does it?” is mai mai mai mai mai—which might seem identical written down, but each syllable would be given a different tone when read aloud.
I am also interested in the practice of lipogramatic writing. I doubt if I could construct some sentence in English without its second most common letter!
Brian Herrick writes:
To compose a ballad bereft the letter “eye”
Can be cumbersome, arduous: why even try?
What would the stakes need be? Stardom, wealth, or glory?
Or just an endeavor that makes a good story?
Perhaps just a task for a wry educator,
Or maybe the decree of a vowel hater.
No matter the reason, the task can be managed.
To know many words, a palpable advantage.
So here reads a poem, for your puzzly pleasure,
That, to my best, rhymes, measure for measure.
My goal was to pen a work that deems me worthy
And please, feel free to ask me another query
George Perec wrote a novel in French, entitled La Disparition in 1969. This book is over three hundred pages long and does not contain the letter ‘i’ at all, the most used letter in the French language.
Four English translations are A Void by Gilbert Adair (without the letter ‘e’), A Vanishing by Ian Monk, Vanish’d by John Lee, and Omissions by Julian West.
The novel describes the tragic events that ensue after the disappearance of Anton Voyl (Antoine Voyelle in reality). A Void’s protagonists finally work out which symbol is missing, but find it a hazardous topic to discuss, as any who try to bypass this story’s constraint risk fatal injury.
Language is rich, yet paradoxically ‘empty’; I find this dichotomy intriguing and, in equal measure, frustrating.
I doubt if I could construct some sentence in English without its second most common letter … I just did (‘a’)!
