A while back, I asserted confidently that “traipsing is exactly like walking, only much much worse.” Several people responded to disagree with me, which just goes to show that different people even in the same culture have quiet but real differences in the meanings they attribute to some words. (For the record, dictionary definitions are broadly, though not invariably, in agreement with my sense of traipse; but the dictionaries clearly have not consulted absolutely everyone.) I will hazard a guess, though, that I will not get such disagreement when I say that a slog is never pleasant.
Let me put it this way: If someone said “That was an easy slog,” what would you think?
You might hear someone say that, after all. But you’d probably think they were being witty, or perhaps that they’d grabbed the wrong word, or that slog was a word they hadn’t fully gotten a grip on. Because by definition, a slog isn’t easy. Right?
But let’s look at it from another angle. If I search the Corpus of Contemporary American English to see what words most often precede slog, I see long, hard, tough, uphill, slow, and frustrating, in descending order. We seldom refer to just “a slog”; a slog is pretty much always “a long slog” or “a hard slog” or something like that. So I have to ask: To what extent are those adjectives superfluous?
Consider: Wiktionary defines slog (noun) as “A long, tedious walk or march” and “A hard, persistent effort, session of work or period.” Merriam-Webster says it’s “hard persistent work,” “a prolonged arduous task or effort,” or “a hard dogged march or journey.” So can we not agree that, on the face of it, long slog, hard slog, and tough slog are all pleonastic?
And yet. Somehow, the reinforcement – and perhaps the emphasis on the particularly salient quality that makes the instance a slog (the duration or the effort) – seems part of the expression. Besides, think of the berry in cranberry: there isn’t cran- anything else (except in blends like cran-apple), but we can’t just say cran. So why not an overspecified slog? And anyway, the extra word adds a certain iconicity: Concision would not be in the spirit of a slog. A slog is something you gotta keep slugging at, like a…
…well, not a slug, because slugs don’t slug other slugs (or people). But slugs slog, don’t they? The verb slog means ‘move or work slowly, deliberately, and tediously’ – though it can also mean ‘hit something with a heavy blow’. In other words, to slog, either be a slug or slug something.
Incidentally, slugs are called slugs because they’re sluggish, and not the other way around; slug referred to a slow person long before it ever referred to a gastropod. But slug meaning ‘hit’ doesn’t seem to be related; that verb probably comes from the same root as German schlagen ‘strike’ (which shows up in Goldschläger, which has made many people sluggish, but only coincidentally).
Anyway, as it happens, slog might be related to slug. We’re not sure. But if it is, it’s related not to the slow-moving person or animal, but to the blow. As in you keep slugging away (rather than, say, going on strike).
But, as I say, we’re not sure. The use of slog to refer to hitting hard showed up in the earlier 1800s; the use to refer to working hard showed up in the later 1800s. Either way, that’s pretty recent, as such words go, so it’s probably drawing on another English word – or on several, on the basis of what just sounded right, as people sometimes confect words by vibe. After all, you won’t find too many bright and sprightly things named with similar-sounding words. Slog sounds like slow going: A slovenly slob in a slum may slobber slop slowly and slothfully down a slope, but you need to move the vowel sound up and forward in the mouth if you want anything slick or slippery or even slim. You can slog doggedly like a hog on a log in a clogged foggy soggy bog; you might go jogging with a frog, but you won’t do a vigorous jig on a big twig with a pig.
Which makes me wonder whether a slog that is not long and hard might be a slig – a slight reduction, and why not? But there is, in fact, no such thing. If you take the labour from the slog, you have nothing at all… or anyway, you’re done already and it’s time for a break.
Sesquiotica 