Another great essay. I have so many questions and comments. Here's one for now. I was in French-speaking West Africa (the country of Togo) in the US Peace Corps after college/university. The villagers wanted to call me by name, Jeff. But the "J" sound did not exist in French or their language (Okposso). So they called me, "Monsieur GGeff." That sound comes from putting your tongue in the "J" position, but then taking it back a little bit and cramming it into the bottom of your mouth so that it vibrates. You do that for a second, then launch the rest of the word out of your mouth.
One more Togolese language story. I am German by ancestry, which I was very proud of in college. I studied three semesters of German in college. Despite all that work, I had a frustrating amount of trouble understanding spoken German, by Germans or Austrians. Then one night I was sitting in a cafe in Togo and heard two Togolese men speaking German. I could understand it perfectly! The Togolese had a lovely, open mouth, way of speaking that made both French and German readily comprehensible to me.
French and German both have tangled uses of those sounds as well. I was thinking that German converted both the G and J sounds to a "y" sound. That is, until you put "weg" up there, which is still the German word for "way." Otherwise, in German (Norwegian and Danish, too), when you see a G/J, automatically make a Y sound. (For example, "Yohan Bach.") That's the "gate" (pronounced "ya-te" in Norwegian but with the exact same meaning as English, "gate") to pronouncing those languages. But there's no weg ("way," pronounced "veg" with a true G sound) that it works all the time.
Which makes me wonder about how much the Norman writers were wrestling with all of this.
Once again thank you for making a complex history , in this case, somewhat comprehensible. This one has caused me domestic strife. During my futile attempts to verbalize many of the sounds described and, as I increased my volume in frustration, my wife overheard from the far end of the house. She rushed to my aid assuming I had inspired a potato chip and was in immediate need of the Heimlich Maneuver. She had juggled in her mind how to pull this off considering our relative sizes.
In short I’m now banned from such attempts in the house. Now I have to worry only about my already leery neighbors.
Once upon a time, in Manhattan, my then wife rushed into the back bedroom where I was doing some Arabic homework, convinced that I was choking or puking. All the fault of the letter /ʕɑin/ [ع]...
This is so interesting! I knew about the z in Scottish - the leader of the Liberal Democrats in Britain at one point was Menzies Campbell, but he was known as Ming Campbell.
I wonder if the g/y thing explains why transliteration from Greek doesn't quite work. Like Fage Greek yoghurt is pronounced fah-ye. So the "g" we use for transliteration is functioning more like a "y". I have a feeling that in Turkish, which adopted the Roman alphabet, a "g" is more like a "y" as well.
In other exciting news... The difference between y and g and gh and the scribes' choice of letters reminds me of Japanese hiragana and katakana syllableries. The same characters are used for g (hard g) as for k, just with a sort of " to turn the syllables into ones beginning with g, not k. Then there's t/d which behave similarly. Then there's the ones beginning with h - add a sort of " and they become b, add add a circle and they become p. It makes perfect sense! (Although the way I've explained it probably doesn't! 🤣)
The parallel you've noticed with Greek is very apt: exactly the same process happened in Greek as happened in Old English: the 'g' in certain environments became a 'y' sound. Palatalization may be the most common sound change in the world's languages.
My new favorite observation: "English spelling is so complex that we’ve made mastering it into a competitive sport: what would be the point of a spelling bee in a language with a predictable spelling system?" I never even thought of that!
As a reading teacher, I lament all the disappearances of these letters. All the aspects of spelling you discuss in this post are so hard to explain to children. I so wish we had one letter for every sound. Damn that printing press!
When you look at the complexity of it all, it sometimes seems a wonder that so many people do learn English spelling. The mind seems capable (provided it has good guidance, of course) of learning even the most indirect relationships between written form and sound.
The pronunciation of ‘g’ is familiar to me (from Old English), and I was aware of both Insular and Carolingian scripts (mostly Insular when *trying* to figure out glosses), but I still wasn’t aware of the full story. So thanks for that!
I don't know how sad I should be that so many z sounds have crept into Scottish proper names. On the one hand, it is a sign of literacy, but I can't help lamenting the loss or superseding of oral tradition. A few pronunciations just about cling on where the (former) yogh barely colours the preceding n, though very few people (even those native to Edinburgh) seem to go with my preferred rendering of 'Cockenzie' (which was the punchline to a limerick which I am presently unable to reproduce).
Fascinating! While I was reading your delightful essay, I found myself wondering where you found a font-set that contains all those ‘odd’ characters, and in such a way that Substack reproduces them perfectly (or so I assume). It also inspired me to imagine a Medieval scriptorium where some monk copyist looks at a text and says to himself, “Woah! I’ve never seen that letter before! Cool!”
Another great essay. I have so many questions and comments. Here's one for now. I was in French-speaking West Africa (the country of Togo) in the US Peace Corps after college/university. The villagers wanted to call me by name, Jeff. But the "J" sound did not exist in French or their language (Okposso). So they called me, "Monsieur GGeff." That sound comes from putting your tongue in the "J" position, but then taking it back a little bit and cramming it into the bottom of your mouth so that it vibrates. You do that for a second, then launch the rest of the word out of your mouth.
One more Togolese language story. I am German by ancestry, which I was very proud of in college. I studied three semesters of German in college. Despite all that work, I had a frustrating amount of trouble understanding spoken German, by Germans or Austrians. Then one night I was sitting in a cafe in Togo and heard two Togolese men speaking German. I could understand it perfectly! The Togolese had a lovely, open mouth, way of speaking that made both French and German readily comprehensible to me.
French and German both have tangled uses of those sounds as well. I was thinking that German converted both the G and J sounds to a "y" sound. That is, until you put "weg" up there, which is still the German word for "way." Otherwise, in German (Norwegian and Danish, too), when you see a G/J, automatically make a Y sound. (For example, "Yohan Bach.") That's the "gate" (pronounced "ya-te" in Norwegian but with the exact same meaning as English, "gate") to pronouncing those languages. But there's no weg ("way," pronounced "veg" with a true G sound) that it works all the time.
Which makes me wonder about how much the Norman writers were wrestling with all of this.
Once again thank you for making a complex history , in this case, somewhat comprehensible. This one has caused me domestic strife. During my futile attempts to verbalize many of the sounds described and, as I increased my volume in frustration, my wife overheard from the far end of the house. She rushed to my aid assuming I had inspired a potato chip and was in immediate need of the Heimlich Maneuver. She had juggled in her mind how to pull this off considering our relative sizes.
In short I’m now banned from such attempts in the house. Now I have to worry only about my already leery neighbors.
Hahaha, brilliant — and it sounds like I may need to put a warning label on these articles!
Once upon a time, in Manhattan, my then wife rushed into the back bedroom where I was doing some Arabic homework, convinced that I was choking or puking. All the fault of the letter /ʕɑin/ [ع]...
The struggle is real; always nice to know they care about us.
Finally, I now understand why the British politician Menzies Campbell was always called Ming Campbell on the news.
This is so interesting! I knew about the z in Scottish - the leader of the Liberal Democrats in Britain at one point was Menzies Campbell, but he was known as Ming Campbell.
I wonder if the g/y thing explains why transliteration from Greek doesn't quite work. Like Fage Greek yoghurt is pronounced fah-ye. So the "g" we use for transliteration is functioning more like a "y". I have a feeling that in Turkish, which adopted the Roman alphabet, a "g" is more like a "y" as well.
In other exciting news... The difference between y and g and gh and the scribes' choice of letters reminds me of Japanese hiragana and katakana syllableries. The same characters are used for g (hard g) as for k, just with a sort of " to turn the syllables into ones beginning with g, not k. Then there's t/d which behave similarly. Then there's the ones beginning with h - add a sort of " and they become b, add add a circle and they become p. It makes perfect sense! (Although the way I've explained it probably doesn't! 🤣)
The parallel you've noticed with Greek is very apt: exactly the same process happened in Greek as happened in Old English: the 'g' in certain environments became a 'y' sound. Palatalization may be the most common sound change in the world's languages.
Ah yes, Ming the Merciless
My new favorite observation: "English spelling is so complex that we’ve made mastering it into a competitive sport: what would be the point of a spelling bee in a language with a predictable spelling system?" I never even thought of that!
As a reading teacher, I lament all the disappearances of these letters. All the aspects of spelling you discuss in this post are so hard to explain to children. I so wish we had one letter for every sound. Damn that printing press!
When you look at the complexity of it all, it sometimes seems a wonder that so many people do learn English spelling. The mind seems capable (provided it has good guidance, of course) of learning even the most indirect relationships between written form and sound.
I often wonder that. That’s what I tell my colleagues who forget how hard it is to learn to read. Of course it takes years of direct instruction.
The pronunciation of ‘g’ is familiar to me (from Old English), and I was aware of both Insular and Carolingian scripts (mostly Insular when *trying* to figure out glosses), but I still wasn’t aware of the full story. So thanks for that!
By the way, I like your choice for Hwæt).
Thank ȝou!
Thank you for following through!
I don't know how sad I should be that so many z sounds have crept into Scottish proper names. On the one hand, it is a sign of literacy, but I can't help lamenting the loss or superseding of oral tradition. A few pronunciations just about cling on where the (former) yogh barely colours the preceding n, though very few people (even those native to Edinburgh) seem to go with my preferred rendering of 'Cockenzie' (which was the punchline to a limerick which I am presently unable to reproduce).
I encountered this many years ago at school (ourtside Glasgow) where a geography teacher 's surname was spelled Dalziel but pronounced it Dee-yell.
IMO there are stranger letters in the English alphabet, particularly in the tail end.
Q - K's separation anxiety-stricken counterpart who won't leave home without U.
W - Looks like a Siamese twins-version of one letter but has a name that references another.
X - a showoff who tries to one-up C by doing both of its sounds at the same time.
Y - I's overachieving rival who doesn't get a place in the council of vowels due to its talent as a consonant.
Very enjoyable. I made a lot of strange noises in my throat while reading along.
The Uncial script used in old Irish Gaelic has a similar g to the insular
g. Still can be seen today in display typeface use in Ireland. The sound is equal to the hard g though.
"dæᵹ is day, weᵹ is way" and that shows the link to other Germanic tongues as in modern German Day is Tag and Way is Weg ....
I always wondered why the politician Sir Menzies Campbell had his name pronounced that way!
Fascinating tour through history here, thanks!
Fascinating! While I was reading your delightful essay, I found myself wondering where you found a font-set that contains all those ‘odd’ characters, and in such a way that Substack reproduces them perfectly (or so I assume). It also inspired me to imagine a Medieval scriptorium where some monk copyist looks at a text and says to himself, “Woah! I’ve never seen that letter before! Cool!”
find yourself a unicode reference and you can copypasta all of them at will. E.g. https://symbl.cc/
Where you discover that https://symbl.cc/en/1D79/ is ᵹ and https://symbl.cc/en/0292/ is ʒ
And modern browsers do font substitution, if a given Unicode character is not in the selected font, they'll insert it from another.
We live in an age of miracles! Thanks!
Fascinating and informative as always!