Unlike some languages (notably French, which is governed by L'Académie française), English does not
have an official grammar or vocabulary. Since the dominant opinion among
Anglophone lexicologists is that there ought not to be an official standard –
that language evolves organically and their role is simply to report on the
evolution – we aren’t likely to get one. The closest thing we have to an
official source is the Oxford English
Dictionary (OED), which tracks
but does not dictate usage. It adds and subtracts words and definitions every
year as they come into and fall out of use. It always adds more than it drops,
expanding in recent decades by about 2000 words per year, but the publishers
never claimed to list all English words, and much scientific terminology is
deliberately excluded. Accordingly, there is no definitive number of English
words. (One author on the OED website
guestimates, “If distinct senses were counted, the total would probably
approach three quarters of a million.”) Graeme
Diamond, a member of the OED team, explains,
“A rule of thumb is that any word can be included [in the OED] which appears five times, in five
different printed sources, over a period of five years.”
It is doubtful that any one person has a 750,000 word
vocabulary, of course. The average adult English-speaker has an active
vocabulary of between 10,000 and 20,000 and a combined active and passive
vocabulary of 40,000. A passive vocabulary is the words we recognize when we
see them but don’t use ourselves. Shakespeare had an active vocabulary of
31,534 words (that’s how many distinct words appear in his plays – yes, someone
counted) but I think we can agree he was a tad more literary than most of us. 10-20,000
still sounds pretty impressive but there is less to the number than meets the
ear. According to The Reading Teachers
Book of Lists, the 1000 most common words comprise 89% of everyday writing,
and we generally write with a larger vocabulary than we use in speech.
Given the state of civil society at present, it is no
surprise that 2018’s additions to the dictionary include derogatory terms such
“mansplain” and “snowflake.” Snowflake is an old word in its literal sense, of
course, but its metaphorical definition is a new addition. Among the added
words less intended to irk the hearer (though the things they describe may be
irksome) are “deglobalization,” “ransomware,” “nothingburger,” “idiocracy,” and
“prepper.” There is by design a lag time between a word being coined and its
inclusion (if it ever is included) in the OED.
More revealing, therefore, are trending words and expressions whether old or
new, which is to say those words with a significant recent rise in use.
Fortunately, the OED keeps track of
these, too. On the shortlist for the trendiest word for 2018 were the following
(a couple of which haven’t as yet jumped the pond):
Cakeism – (primarily UK) a belief one can have two mutually
exclusive alternatives at once.
Gammon – (primarily UK) derogatory term for an angry red-faced
white man.
Big Dick
Energy (BDE) – understated casual confidence.
Orbiting – a step short of “ghosting,” orbiting is abruptly stopping
direct communication with someone while still lightly interacting on social
media.
Overtourism – the ruination of the desirability of a tourist
destination from too many tourists.
Gaslighting – Making someone appear or feel paranoid while truly
surreptitiously undermining him or her.
Techlash – a backlash against tech companies for perceived
manipulative behavior.
Finally, the winner trending Word of the Year: Toxic. This is another old word, but
the trendiness comes from its metaphorical use as in toxic masculinity, toxic
relationships, toxic culture, etc.
That "toxic" was the trendiest word of 2018 says
much – perhaps too much. Maybe something more hopeful such as “medicinal” will be
trendy instead in 2019, though there is always a chance it will be paired with
a comeback of “snake oil.”
Aimee Mann –
I Know There's A Word
I sometimes listen to a podcast where one of the host got into this Millennial hipster jargon where he'd go: How can't I not read it when it's written so well? And, I wouldn't say it wasn't uninteresting. He got so bad with it, it got hard for me to understand what the hell he was saying at times. It got so bad I'd have to stop and think, did he like it or what? It got rather ridiculous. Ah, this younger generation.
ReplyDeleteSlang and colloquialisms come and go (a few stick, but mostly they go) but it is truly surprising how stable semi-formal English has been in recent centuries. 18th century English, though often literary by today’s standards (the readability index of Benjamin Franklin’s “Autobiography” for example, is grade 13 while the readability of Ernest Hemingway’s novels is grade 8 or lower – which says nothing about the complexity of the subject matter, but just of the prose) poses no challenges to a modern reader with a basic education. Shakespeare remains readable more than 4 centuries after his death. I know that many high school students tend to disagree with that, but he really is. His poetical sentence structures can be complex but only the occasional odd word needs to be looked up, usually because it refers to something no longer common in the modern world, e.g. “baldric” (a diagonal belt across the shoulder) or “recheat” (bugle notes to recall the hunting hounds) though both words are still in the dictionary. Shakespeare, on the other hand, likely had almost as much trouble with Chaucer as we do, even though he was only two centuries earlier. Two centuries earlier yet, and the English is largely unreadable. Movies, TV, and the internet have probably stabilized it further.
DeleteI’m sure teens will laugh at hipster jargon a few decades from now the same way they laugh at 50s slang today.