Tastes Like Fear
May 2nd 2008 02:48
It's 1808 and Humphry Davy was trying to think of a name for a new metal he was attempting to electrolytically isolate. The element itself was called "alumina", and so, after years of research, Davy decided that "alumium" would be a good name for it. Four years later, however, he added an "n" and advocated "aluminum", but a further "i" was added, with the word now changed to "aluminium" after a suggestion printed in Quarterly Review.
The above history is pretty dull, even for etymology. I tried finding a way to suggest that "Alumina" was actually the name of a chick he was banging, but being as Davy was both Cornish and a 19th Century chemist, very little evidence exists of him banging anyone.
Nevertheless, Davy achieved a lot, and is someone we would probably do well to speak of in high regard. Higher regard, that is, than the American inventor Charles Martin Hall, who, despite having developed an extremely cheap method of reproducing aluminium, possessed worse spell-checking abilities than Ringo Starr.
The word "aluminium" had been accepted the world over, US included, until Hall put out an advertisement in which he referred to the metal as "aluminum". This despite the fact that he himself had used the "aluminium" spelling when applying for his patents in the first place.
There are two theories on why this is. The first is that it was a spelling error. The second is that the new spelling was purposefully included so as to make the word easier to spell. With a whole syllable saved when referring to "aluminum", the American work day was officially reduced by forty seconds, and Hall is now recognised for his greatest achievement: he is the inventor of American laziness.
Or, rather, he should be recognised for that. To date, nobody can be bothered writing a biography of the man.
The history of Humphry Davy, Charles Martin Hall, the mineral alumina, and some anonymous git who wrote letters to Quarterly Review, has impacted my life greatly. Thanks to all of them, I am unable to sing along to one of my favourite songs (REM's E-Bow the Letter) without stumbling over the frequent use of the word "aluminum" in the chorus, such is my fear of cultural nomenclature betrayal. (Cultural Nomenclature Betrayal is actually the leading cause of death amongst linguists who perform in cover bands.)
I'm obviously not going to try to figure out why one nation hangs onto traditional spelling whilst another distorts it to something easier; that's the job for someone far more qualified than I. No, being naturally inclined to only care about things insofar as they directly affect me, I want to know why I now have trouble singing along to E-Bow.
Now, it's clearly not like "aluminium" is the only word to suffer from this -- let's be honest -- bastardisation. So far, my US-made spell-checker has told me that "favourite" should be "favorite", that "recognised" should be "recognized", and "bastardisation" should be "improvement". But I can pretty much sing any of those words should they come up in a song, and not worry about errant "u"s or misplaced "s"s because it's all pronounced the same way. The spelling is only relevant when you're, y'know, actually spelling the word out, so that's a battle I'll fight another day. And, while we're on the subject, I should point out that I'll be hanging on to that spelling no matter where I live. I don't care if I suddenly move to New York; I won't be adopting Queens English in place of the Queen's English.
It was actually an obsolete British pop group that got me thinking about this a few years ago. (Okay, it was the All Saints. Don't remember them? I don't really blame you). They had a line that referred to something-or-other running straight from "A to Z". If you were given that line, as written, to sing, you'd sing it very differently if you were a Brit than if you were a Yank. And, of course, your pronunciation would put a lot of pressure on the line before or after it to rhyme. What did this pop group do? Stay true to their roots and alienate possible US sales? Pander to the Americans, but betray their home country? In a stroke of marketing memorandums, they sung the line twice. The first time, it sounded like "zee". The second time, it sounded like "zed". Somewhere... a robot's logic circuit explodes.
I've also had this problem with the word "ass". "Ass" is a very American word, and my local equivalent is "arse". I stuck to my arse for a long time, using it where others would use their ass, but it didn't quite work. It took me a long time to realise that ass is a very different word to arse, and though they may appear to have the exact same definition, their uses have grown apart so that they now represent variations on a theme. I now use both where appropriate.
This returns us to the massive aluminium/aluminum conundrum. I don't even know who to be upset at. REM? Nah, they're just remaining true to their own culture, and besides, I could never be mad at those guys. Charles Martin Hall? No, he died in Daytona aged fifty-one (that's not really a remarkable achievement, I'm just showing off my Googling skills). Humphry Davy? No, he actually tried to spell it without the "i" in the first place, cleverly predicting (and attempting to prevent) the cultural rift that would eventually tear nations apart.
No, the focus of my wrath is going to be that anonymous Quarterly Review letter writer, who not only proposed changing the name that was given to it by the man who first identified it because it didn't fit in with his own narrow world view, but because he wasn't even man enough to put his name next to his letter! (Note: it's entirely possible that he did put his name next to the letter, and it's merely history that's forgotten his identity, but I've got a good head of steam up and I'm not stopping for reason or logic.)
It is on that incredibly hypocritical note that I end my rant. For though I will take aluminium over aluminum any day of the week, the person who I've now decided to focus my wrath upon is the only person who seems to have been instrumental in the "i" being there in the first place. Sorry, but changing my mind now would just conflict with my own narrow world view.
So, to the nameless cretin who, in 1812, affected my ability to sing along to 1996's E-Bow The Letter, I pledge to devote my life to unmasking your true identity and destroying your very existence. You've been warned.
The above history is pretty dull, even for etymology. I tried finding a way to suggest that "Alumina" was actually the name of a chick he was banging, but being as Davy was both Cornish and a 19th Century chemist, very little evidence exists of him banging anyone.
Nevertheless, Davy achieved a lot, and is someone we would probably do well to speak of in high regard. Higher regard, that is, than the American inventor Charles Martin Hall, who, despite having developed an extremely cheap method of reproducing aluminium, possessed worse spell-checking abilities than Ringo Starr.
The word "aluminium" had been accepted the world over, US included, until Hall put out an advertisement in which he referred to the metal as "aluminum". This despite the fact that he himself had used the "aluminium" spelling when applying for his patents in the first place.
There are two theories on why this is. The first is that it was a spelling error. The second is that the new spelling was purposefully included so as to make the word easier to spell. With a whole syllable saved when referring to "aluminum", the American work day was officially reduced by forty seconds, and Hall is now recognised for his greatest achievement: he is the inventor of American laziness.
Or, rather, he should be recognised for that. To date, nobody can be bothered writing a biography of the man.
The history of Humphry Davy, Charles Martin Hall, the mineral alumina, and some anonymous git who wrote letters to Quarterly Review, has impacted my life greatly. Thanks to all of them, I am unable to sing along to one of my favourite songs (REM's E-Bow the Letter) without stumbling over the frequent use of the word "aluminum" in the chorus, such is my fear of cultural nomenclature betrayal. (Cultural Nomenclature Betrayal is actually the leading cause of death amongst linguists who perform in cover bands.)
I'm obviously not going to try to figure out why one nation hangs onto traditional spelling whilst another distorts it to something easier; that's the job for someone far more qualified than I. No, being naturally inclined to only care about things insofar as they directly affect me, I want to know why I now have trouble singing along to E-Bow.
Now, it's clearly not like "aluminium" is the only word to suffer from this -- let's be honest -- bastardisation. So far, my US-made spell-checker has told me that "favourite" should be "favorite", that "recognised" should be "recognized", and "bastardisation" should be "improvement". But I can pretty much sing any of those words should they come up in a song, and not worry about errant "u"s or misplaced "s"s because it's all pronounced the same way. The spelling is only relevant when you're, y'know, actually spelling the word out, so that's a battle I'll fight another day. And, while we're on the subject, I should point out that I'll be hanging on to that spelling no matter where I live. I don't care if I suddenly move to New York; I won't be adopting Queens English in place of the Queen's English.
It was actually an obsolete British pop group that got me thinking about this a few years ago. (Okay, it was the All Saints. Don't remember them? I don't really blame you). They had a line that referred to something-or-other running straight from "A to Z". If you were given that line, as written, to sing, you'd sing it very differently if you were a Brit than if you were a Yank. And, of course, your pronunciation would put a lot of pressure on the line before or after it to rhyme. What did this pop group do? Stay true to their roots and alienate possible US sales? Pander to the Americans, but betray their home country? In a stroke of marketing memorandums, they sung the line twice. The first time, it sounded like "zee". The second time, it sounded like "zed". Somewhere... a robot's logic circuit explodes.
I've also had this problem with the word "ass". "Ass" is a very American word, and my local equivalent is "arse". I stuck to my arse for a long time, using it where others would use their ass, but it didn't quite work. It took me a long time to realise that ass is a very different word to arse, and though they may appear to have the exact same definition, their uses have grown apart so that they now represent variations on a theme. I now use both where appropriate.
This returns us to the massive aluminium/aluminum conundrum. I don't even know who to be upset at. REM? Nah, they're just remaining true to their own culture, and besides, I could never be mad at those guys. Charles Martin Hall? No, he died in Daytona aged fifty-one (that's not really a remarkable achievement, I'm just showing off my Googling skills). Humphry Davy? No, he actually tried to spell it without the "i" in the first place, cleverly predicting (and attempting to prevent) the cultural rift that would eventually tear nations apart.
No, the focus of my wrath is going to be that anonymous Quarterly Review letter writer, who not only proposed changing the name that was given to it by the man who first identified it because it didn't fit in with his own narrow world view, but because he wasn't even man enough to put his name next to his letter! (Note: it's entirely possible that he did put his name next to the letter, and it's merely history that's forgotten his identity, but I've got a good head of steam up and I'm not stopping for reason or logic.)
It is on that incredibly hypocritical note that I end my rant. For though I will take aluminium over aluminum any day of the week, the person who I've now decided to focus my wrath upon is the only person who seems to have been instrumental in the "i" being there in the first place. Sorry, but changing my mind now would just conflict with my own narrow world view.
So, to the nameless cretin who, in 1812, affected my ability to sing along to 1996's E-Bow The Letter, I pledge to devote my life to unmasking your true identity and destroying your very existence. You've been warned.
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Comment by RubySoho
Music Zone
Thought Zone
The moral of the story? It's not bastardisation if you invented the language.
Good rant.
Comment by Paul Nelson
P