An historic(al) usage trend: a historic(al) usage trend

This is the full version of my paper on “an historic” and “an historical.” Apologies for the poor fit of some of the tables. They look nicer in the PDF version.

Introduction

One of the most regular and inflexible rules of English is the one governing which version of the indefinite article to use in a given context. It is a useful thing to have an understanding of the rule, and it would take less than an hour to learn a habit of choosing according to the sound of the following word: a before a consonant, as in habit, but also before a consonant sound written as a vowel, as in useful; an before a vowel, as in understanding, but also before a silent consonant (inevitably h) followed by a vowel, as in hour. Although in some dialects a is used before vowels as well, this usage is considered nonstandard and is generally looked down upon (notwithstanding which it has occasionally been predicted that this will be the ultimate use everywhere – see, for example, the editor’s note following Bolinger 1975). An before a consonant would be considered a mark of a nonnative speaker.

There is, however, a salient exception. Before a few words that begin with [h], and most notably historic and historical, an may often be seen and heard used in place of a, even by people whose dialect does not delete the [h]. It seems to have gained an air of greater correctness and formality in many circles. Although a is more common, an is widely seen, especially before historic. Google searches, worldwide and for .ca (Canadian) domain names only, give an indication:

a historic an historic ratio a:an a historical an historical ratio a:an
Google global 2,790,000 1,310,000 2.13 24,200,000 1,280,000 18.91
Google site:.ca 178,000 128,000 1.39 531,000 360,000 1.48

The Canadian government’s websites (all sites in the .gc.ca domain) prefer a to an for historic by only 1.28:1, with 4,570 and 3,570, respectively, and for historical by 1.83:1, with 8,280 and 4,530.

Nor is this a casual matter of personal choice; it is much debated, and positions are often firmly held. There is no shortage of people who will assert quite flatly that “an historic is actually the correct pronounciation” (Urban Dictionary 2004) and even counsel those who prefer a to “look it up” (Yahoo Answers U.K. & Ireland 2007) – ironically, given that current British and American usage manuals almost without exception either explicitly prefer a or at least allow it. Some speakers will aver that “it sounds better to say ‘an historic’” (Yahoo Answers 2006; see also Opinion L.A. 2007); some will simply say “there’s a case to be made that an is the suitable article before historic” (Opinion L.A. 2007). Many will use it because they are certain that it is correct or more formal; others will chose it because, being uncertain, they choose the more marked version on the assumption that it would not be used by others if it were not correct. As Bolinger (1975) quotes Ralph Long as saying (in a personal communication), there is a tendency among “people who really know little or no English grammar…, when in doubt between two constructions, [to] pick the less usual and presumably more elegant.”

Those on the other side of the issue declare an historic to be “pretty much a sherry-sipping, bowtie-wearing thing” (City Comforts 2006) or “pedantic, fussy, and patronising” (Yahoo Answers 2006), fume “I hate that ‘an’ preceding ‘historic’ … it seems awfully pretentious” (Opinion L.A. 2007), or simply flatly declare it wrong: “Do you live in an house? I didn’t think so. A historic” (Walsh 2006). Some usage guides allow either usage, but the trend among authorities appears to be in favour of a. As Fee and McAlpine (1997) put it, “British usage guides are recommending against the unnecessary an. It is probably time for Canadians to let it go too.” And yet many seem loath to do so.

There are four questions that deserve answers in this regard: First, how did this state of affairs come to be? Second, what in fact do most people consider more correct and more formal? Third, why is this the case? And fourth, what is the trend for the future for this usage?

Background

The dispute over which article to use with historic and historical is not new, although the restriction of the dispute largely to those two words is of more recent date. Hillhouse (1928) quotes a piece titled “Humble Petition of the Letter H” from the Grub-street Journal of January 24, 1733–4. In it, the letter H “begs leave to remonstrate against the prevailing custom of authors or printers, or both, who always set the particle An before a word that begins with H: by which method they injuriously deny that he is any letter at all, since, to be sure, they will not call him a vowel.” H continues by asserting that it is already “by a good custom settled for speaking” that words in which H is pronounced are preceded by a; “If men will write An house, an horse, an high-lander, they ought to read so, too. But if it be ridiculous to read so, it must be as ridiculous to write in this manner.” The case, then, was that although pronunciation had long since shifted to restore or add the pronounced [h] which had been dropped under French influence, printers and writers still often preferred the traditional usage (as they did with many points of spelling). Not always, however; Hillhouse observes that, although an before pronounced h could be found with many words in instances from some writers well into the 18th century, a had long since become the established norm, and had been appearing in print since the 16th century. Mark Liberman (2004) tracked usages of an hero using the literary database lion.chadwyck.com and tracked the death dates of the more than 60 authors who used it; he found that the first three authors cited were in the last half of the 17th century, that numbers increased to a peak around 1800, and that they then dropped sharply to 1900. Thus there seems to have been a vogue, and one that came about not in concert with the French influence but rather more in line, perhaps, with the late-18th-century flush of prescriptivism (however, the uprising arc before 1800 may also reflect the composition of the database).

The use of an came to be restricted to h-words with an unaccented first syllable, for example historian and historic. But even that had come to deprecation, though not disuse, by the late 19th century. Hillhouse quotes the 1888 New English Dictionary: “this is all but obsolete in speech, and writing a becomes increasingly common in this position.” He adds an admonition from the noted prescriptivist H.W. Fowler in his 1926 Dictionary of English Usage: “now that the h in such words is pronounced the distinction has become pedantic, and a historical should be said and written.”

The door was not closed on the issue, however. In 1929, Louis N. Feipel published a survey of 300 books, divided equally between American and British authors, examing their use of the indefinite article before h and vowels that are preceded by glides such, as “long u” [ju]. He found an assortment of instances of an before h in monosyllables and words accented on the first syllable – 11 each from American and British books. He found rather more instances when he turned to words starting with [h] not accented on the first syllable. The word most commonly preceded by an was, in fact, hotel – Feipel notes that “‘an hotel’ preponderated markedly over ‘a hotel’; but strangely enough, of the many ‘an’ instances only one was by an American writer.” Next after hotel was historic(al) – Feipel treated the two words as one. Here Feipel found usage “evenly divided between ‘a’ and ‘an,’ as also between British and American writers.” (The actual instances listed numbered as follows: a: 7 British, 4 American; an: 4 British, 4 American.) Following historic(al) was heroic, for which an preponderated, but especially among the British. Other words for which an was more common than a included hallucination, hysterical, horizon, hypothesis, habitué, hereditary, hermaphrodite (itic), hermetical(ly), and several that had only one instance each. On the other hand, a preponderated for hypnotic, harmonious (harmonium), Havana, and several words with one instance each, and there were also a few words that were evenly split.

Feipel’s article drew some responses. One (Byington 1929) noted that much of the variation in style could be attributed to the proofreaders and copy-preparers at the various publishing houses, and that they are more likely to be dogmatic and perhaps tradition-bound than the average user; the next (Palmer 1929) declared “it has long seemed natural to me to use an before an unaccented h. A historical, and a hypothesis offend my ear.” These were followed by a note from the editor (Kenyon 1929), who noted briefly the history and conventions and declared that the inconsistency was not surprising.

The inconsistency persisted for the following half century – but specifically with historic(al). In 1975 Dwight Bolinger declared an historical to be “another presitigious contagion” that was “spreading fast in both print and sound, these days.” In response to Bolinger, Bollard (1979) surveyed material collected by the pronunciation editors at the G. & C. Merriam Company. He found that an preponderated in the speech sampled, especially for historian, historic, and historical, by margins of 22:1, 28:3, and 24:1, respectively, and that it was preferred by smaller margins with several other h words. The totals in writing samples bore out the same result, with larger numbers of instances but smaller ratios (63:25, 85:51, and 194:98, respectively), and also with other words such as habitual, hereditary, and hallucination. More telling was the breakdown of the pronunciation variants: for historian, historic, and historical, in total, of 65 instances recorded, 25 pronounced the [h]. This means that the tradition prevailed even in the face of phonological contradiction of its original justification. There is also the matter of how many of the [h]-less instances were said by people who would say the [h] in the absence of the indefinite article. This practice has evolved as a “rule” that some users hew to. Bolinger adverts to this when he categorizes “h-droppers” in three groups: those who always pronounce the h, even with an (“the true phony h-dropper”); those who never pronounce the h (“the sincere h-dropper”); and those who drop the h just after an: “He writes an historical and says an ’istorical, but elsewhere does not spare his aspiration in the historical record, no historical justification, by historical methods. He is half-phony because he stands a rule of English on its head, which is that what follows determines the shape of the article; the article does not determine the shape of what follows.”

In the 21st century, an historic is still seen – and widely thought correct – and, even more notably, a historic is thought by many to be wrong. The situation is such that the more descriptivist New Fowler’s Modern English Usage (Burchfield 1996, 2) allows the choice of a or an as a matter of personal preference. Most modern style guides and expert writers on the subject disagree. Bill Walsh, who maintains a site for copyeditors called The Slot and is the author of a few books on English usage, surveyed (2004) several style guides and found that, while the London Times called for an in its stylebook (for hotel and heroic as well as historic), and two American dictionaries and two American usage guides allowed the user’s choice, the remainder of American guides sided firmly with a: Garner’s Modern American Usage, Patricia T. O’Conner’s Woe Is I, The Chicago Manual of Style, The Associated Press Stylebook, The United Press International stylebook, the Washington Post stylebook, the New York Times stylebook, the USA Today stylebook, and the U.S. News & World Report stylebook. One person taking the other side in debate with Walsh cited The Correct Word: How to Use It by Josephine Turck Baker: “when h is aspirated, a is required, unless the accent is on the second syllable, when an is used; as ‘a history;’ ‘an historian.’” However, Baker was writing in the first decades of the 20th century – at a time, in fact, when most authorities had already begun counselling users to prefer a in such contexts. Canadian style guides likewise counsel a rather than an (see Editors’ Association of Canada 2000, 211; Tasko 2005, 91; Fee and McAlpine 1997, 1).

Has an use peaked? Has it described, in the broad view of history, an arc like the one that Liberman discerned for an hero? A check of the same database as Liberman used, lion.chadwyck.com, shows parallel quantities of usage for both versions persisting from the 18th century to the 20th, with an usage holding about a 10:7 ratio over a usage. Authors with no birth or death dates listed (which in this database are usually living authors with recent works) are skewed to a by a 10:4 ratio, which may indicate a change in progress. However, the total number of authors cited, 49 for an and 34 for a, is too small to be conclusive.

A search of some Canadian, American, and British news media websites finds the following results:

a historic an historic ratio a:an
Toronto Star 159 42 3.79
Globe and Mail 766 142 5.39
National Post 353 39 9.05
Macleans 40 15 2.67
CBC 1,820 492 3.70
CTV 1,390 298 4.66
New York Times archive 1981– 7,529 841 8.95
New York Times archive 1851–1980 8,138 1,575 5.17
Wall Street Journal 836 236 3.54
London Times 1,230 1,610 0.76
London Telegraph 1,820 1,040 1.75
a historical an historical ratio a:an
Toronto Star 77 16 4.81
Globe and Mail 258 38 6.79
National Post 90 17 5.29
Macleans 23 0 n/a
CBC 562 112 5.02
CTV 362 29 12.48
New York Times archive 1981– 5,291 305 17.35
New York Times archive 1851–1980 11,381 1,687 6.75
Wall Street Journal 429 82 5.23
London Times 533 249 2.14
London Telegraph 1,170 537 2.18

Only one site has an more than a for historic, the Times of London, which calls for it in its style guide (and even still it has a nearly three-quarters as often as an). Its London competitor the Telegraph has a nearly twice as much as an. For historical, preference for a is universal though not absolute. Every North American news outlet surveyed preferred a for both words by a notable margin. And it is worth remembering that many of the instances will have been in quotations (though the search results show that some of the usages are by the organizations’ own writers).

A search of the same outlets for rations of a to an for habitual, hysterical, hotel, and hero finds interestingly varied results (n/a means that there were no instances of an at all):

hysterical ratio habitual ratio hotel ratio hero ratio
Google global 4.44 2.94 37.98 36.44
Google site:.ca 0.73 1.25 130.71 343.80
Goole site:.gc.ca 1.55 0.42 143.83 462.86
Toronto Star n/a n/a 202.50 n/a
Globe and Mail n/a n/a n/a n/a
National Post n/a n/a n/a n/a
Macleans n/a n/a n/a n/a
CBC 3.78 24.33 48,600.00 n/a
CTV n/a n/a 1,052.00 n/a
New York Times archive 1981– 9.07 18.77 2,641.33 7,116.00
New York Times archive 1851–1980 11.38 2.23 135.40 113.61
Wall Street Journal n/a 24.00 536.67 n/a
London Times 4.08 1.42 49.30 n/a
London Telegraph 5.25 3.03 284.04 n/a

We can see that hysterical and habitual still get a fair amount of an usage in some quarters, but none at all in most Canadian news outlets surveyed, while hotel gets very little an usage and hero quite nearly none – but not absolutely none. Interestingly, the London Times also has a heavy preponderance of a hotel in spite of its style guide’s prescription. Most striking, perhaps, is the prevalence of an with habitual on Government of Canada websites – due to its standard use in legislation – and the prevalence of an with hysterical on .ca sites, something that might reward further study in a future research effort. Given its absence in the usage of Canadian media outlets, this latter would seem to be an anomaly. (We should also remember that .ca domains are used only by a subset of all Canadian websites.)

While a is winning, however, an still has a strong presence with historic and historical, and to a generally lesser degree with a few other similar words. Style guides tend to focus on historic and historical in this issue; the general consensus is that these words are the strongest survivors: “Nowadays the use of an before h survives primarily before the words historical and historic” (ITP Nelson Canadian Dictionary of the English Language 1998, 1). Certainly it prevails in terms of absolute numbers; while the a:an ratios may be similar for some other words in some sources, their frequency of usage is much less – typically two to three orders of magnitude less.

Why has an persisted with historic and historical? No doubt there has been some effect of linguistic ideology (see Wollard and Schieffelin 1994 and Kroch and Small 1978 for general discussions of the topic) – as Silverstein (1979) defines it, “sets of beliefs about language articulated by users as a rationalization or justification of perceived language structure or use”; Irvine (1989) calls it “the cultural system of ideas about social and linguistic relationships, together with their loading of moral and political interests.” The ideological aspect is manifested especially in the tone of some of the debate: the an usage is strongly associated with a British-style prestige model, one viewed by some as the truly correct model (deviation from which offends the ear) and by others as intolerably elitist (“sherry-sipping,” “patronising,” and “pretentious,” to reprise three quotations from above). Ideology tends to override other factors and can be used to justify many an exception – and many a vociferous exception to that exception! As Milroy (2004) says, language ideologies are typically “historically deep-rooted and thoroughly naturalized – hence their resistance to analysis or argument.” A usage may be justified with reasoning that may not reflect the speaker’s phonological reality – as witness this statement from Yahoo Answers 2006: “the h in ‘historic’ is not really acting like a consonant. It forms a sort of dipthong with the I.”

Another possible source of the current state of affairs is the context in which the word historic is often seen. It happens to be a word that is often associated with events that are, well, historic, and thus formal and exceptional. In 1949, Ralph H. Lane noted that “the American likes historic when the word denotes prestige or age, and he applies it somewhat indiscriminately, because of a national affinity for the adjective which dignifies events and objects connected with his rude forefathers.” After surveying the Washington Post for the first half of 1948, he observed that “at the present time historic (especially when it appears in the press) predominantly denoted prestige.” When we consider the importance and exceptionality that can be associated with historic, we may imagine that a more conservative “harking back to olden days” may be in operation some of the time.

Problem and hypothesis

The information we have just reviewed gives good historical, accessory, and anecdotal information about the matter at hand, but no detailed survey of actual current use. I therefore set out to determine what percentage of speakers in Canada today consider each of the usages correct or incorrect: a versus an with historic and historical. I also wished to determine whether there is a relationship between perceived formality and perceived correctness in these usages; I wished to test for an effect of a possible overall set of linguistic ideological beliefs; I wished to test the extent to which usage is determined by pronunciation or non-pronunciation of [h] at the beginning of words; and I wished to find out whether preference for one or the other related in any significant way to demographic details such as age or educational background.

I hypothesized that perceived formality would be a factor in choice of an over a but also that an would be found more formal even among those who thought it incorrect. I also hypothesized that there would be a relationship between preference for an and preference for certain favoured prescriptivist rules. As well, I hypothesized that there would be many people who pronounce the [h] who nonetheless use an with historic. And I hypothesized that respondents’ ages would have significant relationship with their views on the correctness of a and an with historic and historical.

Methodology

I developed a web-based survey that asked for respondents to rate 20 sentences on formality and correctness and to give demographic information. See Appendix 1 for details of the survey used. The stimulus sentences and demographic questions were presented all on one page. This meant that respondents could change their response to a question at any time while filling out the form, up to when they clicked on “Send.” Respondents were randomized to one of two forms by means of the last digit of their postal code. The stimulus sentences on the forms were matched, in most cases offering two variants on a specific grammatical feature, and in some cases offering the same sentence on both forms.

Participants were solicited by means of email. The emails were distributed to four groups: a) employees of MediResource Inc., a Toronto-based web health information company; b) members of the Toronto Mendelssohn Choir; c) members of the Church of the Holy Trinity, which is in Toronto; d) acquaintances of my father, who lives in Cochrane, Alberta, but writes a weekly column that is read by email and on the web by people across Canada and elsewhere. The last group was the largest and also the oldest on average; its presence resulted in the median age being higher than it would otherwise have been. (The average age could have been reduced, and the response pool increased, by soliciting responses from two other groups with which I have connections, but these groups consisted of linguistics students and professional editors, and I felt that either of these groups would skew the results due to their unusual awareness of and focus on matters of English usage.) The emails also asked respondents to forward the email to family and friends to get their participation as well. In total, 214 responses were received: 103 for form 1 and 110 for form 2, and one discarded as an evident accidental duplicate of the immediately preceding one, probably by double-clicking rather than single-clicking the “Send” button.

Personal experience has indicated to me that when one asks people directly about a point of usage, they do not always give answers that reflect their actual usage; sometimes they are unable to remember, and sometimes they say what they think the questioner wants to hear. Thus, rather than asking directly whether a or an is correct before historic and historical, and how formal the usage is, I presented a set of sentences that they could rate on correctness and formality, without focusing on the grammatical feature of interest to me in the sentence, and I spaced the questions of most interest suitably far apart in the form so as not emphasize the focus. I used two forms so that I could test variants without calling attention to the variation being tested. Form 1 had a sentence containing a historic (“This is a historic occasion”) and a sentence containing an historical (“They conducted an historical survey”); form 2 had the same sentences but with the a and an reversed. Since I didn’t want to ask directly how the respondents pronounced words starting with h, because I didn’t want to turn their attention directly to what I was trying to find out, I used a sentence with an hotel to test this (“There was an hotel on the other side of the river”), reasoning that those who did not pronounce the h would generally find this correct and those who did would generally find this incorrect. The remaining 17 sentences were chosen to manifest “correct” and “incorrect,” and more and less formal, forms of certain usages. Some of the sentences used hinged on points of usage that have a certain prescriptivist shibboleth value: split infinitive, sentence-ending preposition, hopefully as a sentence adverb, and a few others. Some items were included with the expectation that the data gathered on them may be useful for future investigation of specific points of usage.

Some items were identical on both forms so as to provide stable points of comparison or to give a comparatively formal, informal, correct, or incorrect item for the sake of comparison (e.g., for informal, “You want me to do what?”). For most of the items, there were two variants, one expected to be thought more formal and/or correct, the other less formal and/or incorrect. The distribution of these items was balanced between the forms with the intent of making each form seem roughly equal. In the final results, the mean formality value for all items on form 1 was 2.6375, the total “no” (incorrect) was 911, and the total “yes” (correct) was 1036. For form 2, the mean formality was 2.664, the total “no” 861, and the total “yes” 1234. The difference in mean formality was not statistically significant; however, a chi-square test found that the difference in total correctness values, about 57 from predicted values (i.e., the values that would obtain if the overall proportions between rows and columns held for each individual item), was significant:

form 1 form 2
incorrect 911 861
correct 1036 1234
predicted values
853.56 918.44
1093.44 1176.56
p=0.0003

It is not known what effect, if any, this overall difference had on the judgements of individual items. The historic/al items naturally affected this total, but even with them excluded the difference was statistically significant, differing by about 41 from expected values:

form 1 form 2
incorrect 813 786
correct 944 1096
predicted values
772.04 826.96
984.96 1055.04
p=0.006

The data from all responses were aggregated in tabular form and subjected to a variety of analyses to find relationships between sets of responses. Because of the small range of possible choices (five values for formality and effectively two values for correctness, since the number of “uncertain” choosers was too small to be useful statistically, so they were excluded), correlation and ANOVA tests were not considered suitable; chi-square tests were preferred for the correctness questions, while Student’s t-tests were best suited to the formality questions.

To aggregate orientations so as to produce more indicative results and larger groups of responses, I also grouped responses for some statistical tests. Two kinds of groupings were done:

  • item grouping: Responses to a historic on form 1 were grouped with responses to an historic on form 2, and responses to an historical on form 1 were grouped with responses to a historical on form 2; this does not filter for other possible reasons for assent or dissent.
  • four-way grouping: Respondents were classified according to whether they (1) said yes to an and no to a on the two historic/al questions on their form; (2) said no to both; (3) said yes to both; or (4) said no to an and yes to a on the two historic(al) questions on their form. Respondents who said uncertain to either question were put in group 0 and excluded. In the final calculations, the numbers in group 2 were too low to allow reliable calculations, and so they were excluded.

Findings

Basic results

The total responses for the a/an items (including an hotel) were as follows (the number in parentheses after each indicates which form it was on):

a historic (form 1) an historic (form 2) a historical (form 2) an historical (form 1) an hotel (form 1) an hotel (form 2)
correctness incorrect 62 30 45 36 79 65
correct 32 79 59 60 27 31
uncertain 9 1 6 7 4 7
formality mean 3.214 3.773 3.164 3.379 2.903 2.664
variance 1.268 0.801 0.799 0.845 0.971 1.069

Overall, it is clear that an historic is preferred to a historic by a clear margin (nearly two to one), and that an historical is preferred to a historical by a small margin, but an hotel is considered incorrect by a margin well over two to one. We see also that the an variants of historic and historical are considered more formal; however, a Student’s t-test reveals that the difference in perceived formality between a and an is statistically significant for historic (at p<0.001) but does not reach significance for historical (p=0.085). Likewise, there is a significant difference in perceived formality between an historic and an historical (p=0.002), but not between a historic and a historical (p=0.72). We also find that the an variant is seen as comparatively informal for hotel, significantly so (p≤0.001) for all variants.

Correctness choice relationships

There were significant relationships between individuals’ choices on the a/an items for three of the six possible pairings of responses (three pairings for each respondent: for form 1 respondents, a historic with an historical and an hotel, and an historical with an hotel; for form 2 respondents, the same with a and an reversed for historic and historical). There was no relationship in choice of correctness between a historic and an hotel. Likewise, there was no statistically significant relationship in choice of correctness between a historical and an hotel. The relationship between an historical and an hotel also failed to reach significance. However, the relationship between an historic and an hotel was significant, as were the relationships between a historic and an historical and between an historic and a historical. For the most part, these actual results differed from the predicted by about a 3:2 or 2:3 margin; all three of the relationships were significant at p<0.001 in chi-square tests.

an hotel
incorrect correct
an historic incorrect 29 1
correct 49 26
predicted values
22.29 7.71
55.71 19.29
p=0.0009
an historical
incorrect correct
a historic incorrect 14 45
correct 19 11
predicted values
21.88 37.12
11.12 18.88
p=0.0003
a historical
incorrect correct
an historic incorrect 2 42
correct 27 32
predicted values
12.39 31.61
16.61 42.39
p=0.000004

Correctness and formality

For formality relationships, Student’s t-tests were used, since usable means and variances could be calculated from the 5-value scale. Chi-square analyses would have been less reliable due to the low number of data points in some of the cells.

a historic an historic a historical an historical
incorr corr incorr corr incorr corr incorr corr
mean formality 3.016 3.688 3.300 3.975 3.044 3.288 2.958 3.500
variance 1.229 1.190 1.045 0.563 0.907 0.657 0.923 0.763
p=0.007 p=0.002 p=0.172 p=0.070
a historic an historic a historical an historical
four-way group 1 (an) 4 (a) 1 (an) 4 (a) 1 (an) 4 (a) 1 (an) 4 (a)
mean formality 3.089 3.684 4.048 3.370 3.119 3.444 3.489 3.211
variance 1.083 1.117 0.632 1.088 0.839 0.795 0.665 0.509
p=0.046 p=0.006 p=0.149 p=0.180

As we see, for historic, those who preferred an found it significantly more formal than those who preferred a, but, while there was a similar effect for historical, it did not reach significance at the p<0.05 level. When we look within the four-way groups at ratings of different a/an versions, we see small but statistically non-significant differences for most pairings; the notable exception is the difference in ratings of a and an for historic in group 1, which is a difference of almost a full point in average, significant at p=0.00006. Group 4 did not produce a statistically significant difference for this pairing. Differences in group 3 (both correct) averages were comparatively small and did not approach statistical significance:

a historic an historic a historical an historical
mean formality 3.636 3.844 3.156 3.636
variance 1.655 0.459 0.523 1.455
p=0.574 p=0.236

As well, the hypothesis that an would be found more formal even among those who thought it incorrect did not hold up.

Relationships with other items

It was hypothesized that there would be a relationship between preferring an and preferring common prescriptive norms such as proscriptions on splitting infinitives, ending sentences with prepositions, and using hopefully as a sentence adverb. However, no such effects were found. There was, however, a small but significant relationship between a historic and She gave it to John and I:

John and I
incorrect correct
a historic incorrect 55 7
correct 23 9
predicted values
51.45 10.55
26.55 5.45
p=0.04

We see a slight tendency for preference for a to go with preference for John and I, and for preference against the one to go with preference against the other. There was an apparent relationship of similar degree and implication between an historic and She gave it to John and me, but it failed to reach p<0.05 significance:

John and me
incorrect correct
an historic incorrect 12 16
correct 19 58
predicted values
8.27 19.73
22.73 54.27
p=0.07

The other pairings were not available due to the distribution of the items on the forms. No other significant relationships were discerned.

Demographic effects

Since correlation calculations were not possible due to the non-scalar choice in correctness judgement, respondents were put into four age groups, which were determined on the basis of age distribution among the respondents: 0–34; 35–51; 52–64; 65+. Other groupings were tried and did not produce clearer or significantly different results. Although age-related effects did not reach significance within individual questions, when grouping was applied (as described in the Methods section, above), significant age-related effects were found through both grouping techniques.

Item grouping:

historic
an a
age group 1 25 23
2 36 15
3 43 11
4 37 13
predicted values
33.34 14.66
35.42 15.58
37.51 16.49
34.73 15.27
p=0.02
historical
an a
age group 1 21 26
2 20 28
3 36 17
4 28 24
predicted values
24.675 22.325
25.2 22.8
27.825 25.175
27.3 24.7
p=0.04

Four-way grouping:

a/an group
1 (an) 3 (both) 4 (a)
age group 1 16 8 17
2 16 16 10
3 31 8 8
4 24 11 11
predicted values
20.27 10.02 10.72
20.76 10.26 10.98
23.23 11.48 12.28
22.74 11.24 12.02
p=0.02

The results show a clear higher-than-predicted preference for an among those in age group 3, 52–64 years, and a clear higher-than-predicted preference for a among those in age group 1, 0–34. Age group 2 is slightly more varied, tending to prefer a historical by a small margin but not differing notably from predicted values for a/an historic; however, this age group is also more likely to choose both as correct rather than to side with a or an exclusively. Age group 4, 65+, also does not differ notably from predicted values.

There was no statistically significant age-related effect with an hotel.

There were no statistically significant age-related effects for formality in any of the a/an questions, regardless of the statistical means used (chi-square, Student’s t-test, or correlation).

There were no significant effects for any of the three a/an choices for level of education.

For place of education, Canada and the US were grouped together (due to the small number of US-educated respondents and the commonality between the two countries in pronunciation of [h] in the words in question) and Britain and “elsewhere” were grouped together (due to the small number of responses and the general tendency towards British-style dialects in other countries). Respondents who had been educated in both North America and Britain or elsewhere were put in the Britain/elsewhere group by reason of their at least having been exposed to a British approach, which those exclusively educated in North America would not be expected to have. There were no significant effects for any of the three a/an choices for place of education. Note that this was the case even for an hotel, which might have been expected to be an indicator of British education.

Respondents were asked whether English was their first language; as only 13 of 213 respondents said it was not (3 on form 1 and 10 on form 2), it was not possible to use this information to draw inferences.

There was no significant effect for gender (sex) for any of the a/an choices.

Analysis

The clear relationship in correctness judgements between a and an on the historic(al) items shows that the judgements on those items was in fact focused on that specific variable and not on some other detail of the stimulus sentence. We see that there are three camps: those who consider only an correct (this is the largest group by a fair measure), those who consider only a correct, and those who accept both as correct. There were very few who considered neither correct. Thus the a/an grouping is valid and useful. The fact that I was only asking whether a specific sentence was correct or not led to different results than I would have gotten from recording the respondents’ own actual usage; we can see that nearly as many of them (43) fell into a/an group 3 (both are correct) as into a/an group 4 (a only; 46). But there were nonetheless nearly as many (87) in a/an group 1 (an only) as in the other two groups combined.

Although it would have been useful to know with some certainty which variant the respondent actually used, the difficulty with simply asking the respondents this is that the direct focus on the question might have had too much of a skewing effect on the results. In a study with more time and resources, eliciting a spoken sentence that included a or an historic before proceeding to the questionnaire would have been of use. If we take correctness judgement on an hotel to be an at least modestly reliable indicator of actual pronunciation, then we can postulate that there may have been an influence of pronunciation, but not an exceptionally strong one; only an historic showed a significant relationship with an hotel, and the difference was on the order of 6 to 7 respondents. As well, there was no significant effect for place of education with any of the items. It would thus seem that judgements on the correct article to use were split even among those who always pronounce [h] in these words. And the absence of a relationship between place of education and a/an correctness preference indicates that the split in preference is current in both regions, which matches what has been seen in the web searches (in the Background section, above).

One factor that should not be ignored is the possibility of a person considering an correct and a incorrect even though he or she knowingly uses a as a matter of course. Many people are used to speaking “incorrect” English much of the time – English which, to their knowledge, is not formally “correct” but is nonetheless the version they prefer to speak because it is the language of their peers and they are more comfortable with it. This possibility is bolstered by the fact that a few of the respondents commented to me after doing the survey that they were curious as to how many they “got right.” For many Canadian speakers, it is quite possible that an historic is a postvernacular usage. As Preston (2004) explains, “adult learners of their own language encounter syntactic (and other) characteristics that they learn in no substantially different way than the second- or foreign-language learner learns things…, and I have no reason to assume that they end up embedded in the underlying grammar in any significantly different way.” The possible disjunction between correctness judgement and actual usage is of considerable interest and would merit a subsequent study focused on it.

Perceived formality had an important relationship with correctness judgement. A/an group 1, those who considered an correct and a incorrect, considered an historic significantly more formal than a historic, while group 4, those who considered a correct and an incorrect, did not have a statistically significant difference in rating. The hypothesis that even those who found an historic incorrect would consider it more formal did not hold up. This suggests that for those who prefer an, the choice is a matter of formal correctness, and formality is important, whereas for those who prefer a, formality does not enter the issue in a significant manner. This may be seen to have a connection to the perception of an-preference as the territory of sherry-sipping, bowtie-wearing snobs: that is, it has a connection to an ideology of formal correctness. Note, however, that this is only the case for historic, not for historical – the formality focus is strongly on that specific word.

This strong formality effect for historic is reasonable, given that historic is more given to formal and momentous usages. The ITP Nelson Canadian Dictionary of the English Language (1998, 644) gives this usage note, which well characterizes the common distinction in usage: “Historic and historical are differentiated in usage, though their senses overlap. Historic refers to what is important in history: the historic first voyage to outer space. It is also used of what is famous or interesting because of its association with persons or events in history: a historic house. Historical refers to whatever existed in the past, whether regarded as important or not: a historical character. Historical refers also to anything concerned with history or the study of the past: a historical novel. The words are often used interchangeably: historic times or historical times.” One might be led to posit the existence of two perceived versions of historic, one more formal taking an, the other less formal taking a. This is supported by the facts that an historic was seen overall as significantly more formal than a historic and significantly more formal than an historical, while a historic was not seen as significantly more formal overall than a historical. However, some of this effect will certainly be due to choice among those who consider only one of the versions correct (and who therefore would not have an impression of two equally valid versions with differing formality). When we look only at the “both a and an” group (3), an historic was not rated significantly more formal than a historic or an historical.

We thus have something of an account for the special persistence of an historic and a possible suggestion of two versions of historic that may exist for many users: one that takes a and is neither formal nor properly “correct,” and the other that takes an and is formal and properly “correct.” The correctness judgements for historical may have been pulled along by the judgements for historic; if there had been a group of respondents large enough to allow for four forms, so that historical could have been tested without historic on the same page as a possible influence, there may have been different results. As it was, the correctness judgements for historical were not as strong as for historic. Nonetheless, we can see from the surveys of news outlets and websites in general that historical is still actively given an by many users independently of historic, so the ideology of formality, while it may have some effect, is clearly not the only determining factor; the history of this usage also plays a part. But it is not unreasonable to hypothesize that an historic, with its connections to an ideology of formality, is the anchor of this conservatism, and that an historical and, to a lesser degree, a few others are being maintained to a fair degree by the influence of an historic.

We cannot, however, posit a larger set of prescriptive norms that form a coherent unified standard including an historic. The hypothesized relationships between a/an historic(al) judgements and judgements on items that manifested characteristics subject to strong, often ideologically based prescriptive preferences simply did not manifest. This does not mean that there is no ideological basis, of course, only that such basis as may exist operates independently from other ideological orientations that may motivate the other judgements.

The sole important demographic effect identified was age-group related. There are different possible reasons for this effect. One possibility is that it is indicative of a sea-change in attitudes towards English and its teaching. The advent of “whole language teaching” in the late 1960s and 1970s, and its ascendancy in the 1980s and thereafter, may be of debatable merit overall, but it is clear that it de-emphasized rote learning and dogmatic approaches to English usage. We might note that those in age group 1 (34 and under) would have graduated from high school starting in about 1990, and thus would have begun their schooling in the late 1970s or later, just when “whole language” was reaching its ascendancy. Those in group 3 (52–64), on the other hand, would have finished high school no later than the early 1970s and would have done their schooling almost entirely in the 1950s and 1960s. As to those in group 2 (35–51), they were in school during the time that “whole language” was just coming and rote learning was on its way out. And it may be that a vogue for an historic passed through North American (and perhaps British) usage in the 1960s and 1970s, as Bolinger (1975) suggests; this is worth a further study.

On the other hand, it is possible that this age difference reflects standard sociological age-related norms of usage at least as much as it does any real change passing through the language; as Eckert (1997) notes, increased conservatism is an important linguistic change for those entering the adult phase of life, and a relaxation of conservatism is thought to be characteristic of those who have reached retirement age. This hypothesis is supported by the lack of a clear effect for group 4 (65 and over). Further study would be required to separate out the effect of increased conservatism in mid-life and to determine whether, in fact, a permanent change is passing through the language.

One possible effect on the difference between the generations may be the comparative absence of postvernacular learning of an with historic among the younger generation; another, converse, possibility is that the older generation tended to learn an in school as a more integral part of their language, and it is the younger generation, exposed to it in a more desultory fashion, who acquire it postvernacularly if at all. However, we need to take note of the absence of a relationship between age and formality judgement. While age and formality judgement both have relationships with correctness judgement, they operate independently. Thus, it does not appear that members of age group 3 learned that an historic is formal while members of age group 1 did not. It seems, rather, that they merely learned whether it is correct, and the formality perception is a separate (perhaps postvernacular) learning that we might imagine derives from the real-life contexts in which the usage has been encountered and from a given person’s own disposition towards the ideology of formality and correctness.

The predominance of a in style guide recommendations might be taken as some indication that there is indeed a permanent change in this usage gradually making its way through the population. But we have observed, in the Background section above, that a was already widely recommended over an by style guides before any of the respondents to my survey were born (the oldest respondent was 88 years old, meaning she was born in 1918 or 1919), and certainly long before most of them were in school. So why would they not have learned what usage manuals counsel? One likely reason is that, in general, they did not read the manuals and were not taught from them. A survey of school texts from the various decades of the 20th century and from different parts of the English-speaking world would be informative with regard to what people were, in fact, taught and when, but such a survey is far beyond the means available for this study. An even better, but even less possible, survey would be of the attitudes of the English teachers themselves from the course of the 20th century; personal experience tells me that many people will cleave barnacle-like to the dogmas propounded by their high school English teachers even in the face of contradiction by what one would think would be greater authority. On the other hand, many others will forget what they were taught and will conform their usage to what they are used to seeing and hearing. The question then remaining is, given that a historic definitely outweighs an historic in current Canadian usage and has been the prescribed standard in most quarters for nearly a century, how are respondents coming to prefer an historic? The formality connection suggests an answer to this: an historic is sometimes seen in formal contexts, and the presence of the marked an is inferred to be correct precisely because it is exceptional – else why would the expected a not be used? – and from this, to the extent that the person values the linguistic ideology of formality and correctness, a judgement of formality and correctness is formed, even in the face of a majority of usages of a historic, which are discounted as common but incorrect.

Conclusion

An historic and, to a lesser degree, an historical present us with an example of persistence of an exception to a very well-established rule of usage. Although the rule in English is that the choice of indefinite article is determined by the initial sound of the immediately following word, some users overtly discard this rule in this one instance, and others claim that this instance is a special case where a consonant becomes no longer a consonant. The history of this usage gives us a good sense of its origins, but we would expect the usage to have disappeared almost entirely by the present time as have most other similar usages. Instead, it persists. The survey of 213 mostly North American English speakers sheds some light on the phenomenon: there is special influence from the perceived formality of this word, and there is also an age-related effect. All age groups preferred an historic to a historic, but the youngest group somewhat less so and group 3 most so; only age group 3 preferred an historical to a historical by a significant margin. The age-related effect may be a static one whereby users move from a phase of a-preference in youth through a phase of an-preference in middle adulthood and back towards a in their older years, or it may be a real change that is gradually moving up through the populace, or both effects may be in operation. The surest way to determine which is the case would be to continue to survey users every several years. It does seem likely that styles of English education will have some bearing on the matter; perhaps the best way to guarantee solid dominance for a would be for English teaching to return to a more prescriptive style, specifically one in which a historic and a historical are taught as correct and an historic and an historical as nothing but a pair of mumpsimuses. Failing that, the current state of affairs, in which usage is learned much more through folk learning and inference, could allow the current common division to persist for a long time yet, with many, perhaps even a majority, judging an to be the correct version even as a may be more often spoken – and by far more commonly recommended in style guides and usage manuals.

References

Bolinger, Dwight (1975). “Are You a Sincere H-Dropper?” American Speech 50(3/4): 313–315.

Bollard, J. K. (1979). “A or An?” American Speech 54(2): 102–107.

Burchfield, R.W., editor (1996). The New Fowler’s Modern English Usage. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Byington, Steven T. (1929). “‘A’ and ‘An’ before ‘H’.” American Speech 5(1): 82–83.

City Comforts, temporarily known as Viaduct, The Blog (2006). “Department of Correct Usage.” Posting by “Chris Burd.” citycomfortsblog.typepad.com/cities/2006/05/department_of_c.html, accessed March 20, 2007.

Eckert, Penelope (1997). “Age as a Sociolinguistic Variable.” In The Handbook of Sociolinguistics, ed. Florian Coulmas, 151–167. Malden MA: Blackwell.

Editors’ Association of Canada (2000). Editing Canadian English. Toronto: Macfarlane Walter & Ross.

Fee, Margery, and McAlpine, Janice (1997). Guide to Canadian English Usage. Toronto: Oxford University Press.

Feipel, Louis N. (1929). “‘A’ and ‘An’ before ‘H’ and Certain Vowels.” American Speech 4(6): 442–454.

Hillhouse, J.T. (1928). “A or An?” Modern Language Notes 43(2): 98–101.

Irvine, Judith T. (1989). “When Talk Isn’t Cheap: Language and Political Economy.” American Ethnologist 16:248–267.

ITP Nelson Canadian Dictionary of the English Language (1998). Toronto: ITP Nelson.

Lane, Ralph H. (1949). “Modern ‘Historic’.” American Speech 24(3): 181–188.

Liberman, Mark (2004). “Hung Like a Hero.” itre.cis.upenn.edu/~myl/languagelog/archives/000463.html, accessed March 18, 2007.

Kenyon, J.S. (1929). “‘A’ and ‘An’ before ‘H’.” American Speech 5(1): 84–85.

Kroch, Anthony, and Small, Cathy (1978). “Grammatical Ideology and Its Effect on Speech.” In Linguistic Variation: Models and Methods, ed. David Sankoff, 45–55. New York: Academic Press.

Milroy, Lesley (2004). “Language Ideologies and Linguistic Change.” In Sociolinguistic Variation: Critical Reflections, ed. Carmen Fought, 161–177. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Opinion L.A. (2007). “Non-genuine article makes reader sic.” Postings by “Tim Cavanaugh,” “Rob McMillin,” and “Brady Westwater.” opinion.latimes.com/opinionla/2007/01/nongenuine_arti.html, accessed March 20, 2007.

Palmer, Francis L. (1929). “‘A’ and ‘An’ before ‘H’.” American Speech 5(1): 83–84.

Preston, Dennis R. (2004). “Three Kinds of Sociolinguistics: A Psycholinguistic Perspective.” In Sociolinguistic Variation: Critical Reflections, ed. Carmen Fought, 140–158. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Silverstein, Michael (1979). “Language Structure and Linguistic Ideology.” In The Elements: A Para Session on Linguistic Units and Levels, ed. Paul R. Clyne, William F. Hanks, and Carol R. Hofbauer, 193–247. Chicago: Chicago Linguistics Society.

Tasko, Patti, editor (2005). The Canadian Press Caps and Spelling, 17th edition. Toronto: The Canadian Press.

Urban Dictionary (2004). “an historic.” Posting by user “Kung-Fu Jesus.” http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=an+historic, accessed March 20, 2007.

Walsh, Bill (2006). “More on ‘A’ vs. ‘An’.” http://www.theslot.com/a-an.html, accessed March 18, 2007.

Woolard, Kathryn A., and Schieffelin, Bambi B. (1994). “Language Ideology.” Annual Review of Anthropology 23: 55–82.

Yahoo Answers (2006). “What is correct English: ‘a historic’ vs. ‘an historic’… What’s the difference?” Postings by users “James” and “DanielSay.” answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=1006020106262, accessed March 20, 2007.

Yahoo Answers U.K. & Ireland (2007). “A historic or an historic event? At school I was taught the article ‘a’ only precedes a consonant initial word.” Posting by “erindehart1”. uk.answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20070313134721AA31uVK, accessed March 20, 2007.

Appendix 1: Survey forms

When respondents went to http://www.harbeck.ca/ling/ as directed, they were presented with this page:

The Formality and Correctness Survey

Hello, and thank you for coming to the formality and correctness survey. This is a brief survey (20 study questions and eight demographic information questions) to gather information on the perceived formality and correctness of certain English usages. It is being done for an assignment for LING 3650, Sociolinguistics, at Glendon College, which is part of York University. It will most likely take you less than two minutes to complete.

This is an anonymous survey, so you are on your honour to complete it only once – please do not come back and do it again, as that will skew the data. But please do ask friends and family to complete it as well. All data gathered for this survey by March 7, 2007, will be included in the analysis. I will have no way of connecting a specific set of data with a specific respondent, because the form does not collect your name, address, IP address, or any other information sufficient to identify you personally. Clicking on “Send” when you have completed the survey indicates your agreement to participate in this study and your agreement with the terms and manner of its conduct.

If you would like to read the results and analysis of the survey, please email me, James Harbeck, at james@harbeck.ca, and I will send them to you once the survey and assignment are complete.

To begin, please click on the last digit of your postal code. This will allow me to sort the results.

0

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

Clicking on their postal code took them to one of two forms. Form 1 was used for people with postal codes 0–4. Form 2 was used for people with postal codes 5–9. The questions on the forms were not numbered on the page the users saw; however, the responses relayed to me by the form were numbered (or, on form 2, lettered). These numbers, and other accessory information not visible to the users, are included below in square brackets. The responses were entered by clicking on “radio buttons” for the formality and correctness ratings and most of the other points of input, an input field for age, and checkboxes for country of education. To save space, I will not reproduce the formality and correctness input field after each item below; it was formatted in the following manner (the o’s represent radio buttons):

informal formal | correct?
1 2 3 4 5 | no yes uncertain
o o o o o | o o o

The forms were identical except for the 20 stimulus items; thus, the form is presented once below, with the stimulus items side-by-side in table format.

In the responses sent by the form, the formality ratings were part a of the question and the correctness ratings were part b; therefore, if a person rated item 5 as a 4 on formality and a “yes” on correctness, I would receive “5a: 4” and “5b: y”.

The Formality and Correctness Survey

Please rate the style and tone of each of the following sentences on a scale of 1 to 5, where 1 is informal and 5 is formal, and please indicate whether you consider the usage correct – whether the sentence is “good English” (click on “uncertain” if you’re not sure). Please do this for all of the phrases – don’t skip any.

[form 1] [form 2]
[1] We want to aggressively pursue this opportunity. [A] We wish to aggressively pursue this opportunity.
[2] There are a lot of reasons to do so. [B] There is a lot of reasons to do so.
[3] This is something which we must address. [C] This is something that we must address.
[4] I think it’s fun. [D] I think it’s fun.
[5] This is a historic occasion. [E] This is an historic occasion.
[6] Program director, Margaret Wilson says that eleven courses will be offered. [F] Program director Margaret Wilson says that eleven courses will be offered.
[7] The move is misguided and, more important, it may do positive harm. [G] The move is misguided and, more importantly, it may do positive harm.
[8] You’ll love this atlas, published by the National Geographic Society. [H] Published by the National Geographic Society, you’ll love this atlas.
[9] The job was done by the director. [I] The director did the job.
[10] Hopefully, we will not need to repeat this exercise. [J] Hopefully, we will not need to repeat this exercise.
[11] I’m not going to do it. [K] I ain’t going to do it.
[12] She gave it to John and I. [L] She gave it to John and me.
[13] They conducted an historical survey. [M] They conducted a historical survey.
[14] I’m glad you came. [N] I’m glad that you came.
[15] You want me to do what? [O] You want me to do what?
[16] We thought it was done; however, it was not. [P] We thought it was done, however it was not.
[17] These kind are not so good. [Q] This kind are not so good.
[18] There was an hotel on the other side of the river. [R] There was an hotel on the other side of the river.
[19] That was the place I had heard of. [S] That was the place of which I had heard.
[20] Thank you for doing this. [T] Thanks for doing this.

Thank you! Now please give me some demographic information, as it may be relevant to differences in perception. (Remember, this is all anonymous.)

[age] How old are you?

[input field] years

[sex] Are you [button] male or [button] female?

[efl] Did you grow up speaking English?

[button] yes

[button] no

[edu] What is the highest level of education you have completed?

[button] less than high school

[button] high school

[button] some university or college

[button] bachelor’s degree

[button] graduate or professional degree

Please put a checkmark beside the country or countries where you attended primary and/or secondary school:

[Can] Canada

[USA] USA

[Eng] England

[els] elsewhere

Once you’ve answered all the questions, please click “Send.”

[Send button]

If a respondent failed to answer a question, the form would not allow him or her to submit it until a value had been entered in the field. Once the respondent clicked on “Send,” a page appeared listing the response values that were sent to me. This was a feature of the software that received the form and sent me the email; it was not something I was able to change.

Picasso

Pablo Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno María de los Remedios Cipriano de la Santísima Trinidad Ruiz y Picasso. Father: Don José Ruiz y Blasco. Mother: María Picasso y López. His mother’s name, with its un-Spanish double s, “stranger, more resonant than ‘Ruiz.’” A Northern Italian name, the Pic the same Pic as in Picardy. A name to be famous like Picabia and Pissarro and Braque and Matisse.

Even when petite, Picasso was a precocious artistic picador of prodigious capacity. Became, in time, a byword like Einstein. But a magpie, an explosion of peculiar artistic pica, pick-and-mix, fricassee, picalilli of peinture; promiscuous stylistically like James Joyce, promiscuous sexually exactly not like James Joyce. And each depiction an epic of picking apart, a diffraction, a flattened tesseract. Breasts P bodies i buns c bellies a legs ss mouths o,

ricochet lips to back to tip, triangle vowels high front, low front, hollow back echo, voiceless voice voiceless voice voiceless voice

so pick as picture associated pieces case some Picasso, pose sacral cipollini ossified acid poetry, Paint Power Pleasure ictus its ink ischemia it create coin copulate kill kiss and after ass apple accident aggravate amnesia animal sing smile slap sex sculpt over open oblation so no oh: castle, catastrophe, picrorhiza, pickle, keep, packs, pisco, piso, piss, pass, paso, pia, icap, isso, cass, caso, ossiai, Ossian, saci, soca, ossip, capisce pax auspices copulase scepsis acolta episcopa is a cops aspic so

But still, all it’s there. Picassos: valuable but rare not. See you can another almost way the same. Scraps, skips, escapes? Coherent. Keep scoping and see. Peek: ah, so. Anyone can do pretty. Pick Picasso, and ex post facto after cerebral explosion sweep up conceptual scraps, concatenate, extrapolate, speculate. Look, anyone can look at it. Your kid could do that. It’s like capering on the flat capstone peak of a castle: precarious, perhaps, but not particularly impracticable. All you have to do is get there first.

lambent

He opened the book and a tongue of flame licked across the leaf.

“Quick – the book!” I said. “It will burn!”

“The book is quick,” he said, “but little worry about the flame. It brings more light than heat.”

It licked again, a lithe lambda giving a warm glow, soft like the fleece of a lamb. A tongue of fire had descended on this volume – no, was ascending from it. It flicked, bent, ambled, melted, bloomed. He handed me the book, open, not hot, in flame but not inflammable. I could see now what the word was that played its tongue on the page so: lambent.

My own tongue and lips engaged: the tongue like a lamprey sliding its tip, the lips meeting softly and then breaking apart, the tongue pressing again to kiss its tip behind the teeth but coming to a hard end. I could see the play in the letters: upward flicks at l, b, t; curls and curves in between at am and en.

“I thought lambent meant a lamp,” I said. “That soft glow or gleam. Or a gladsome radiance. Shed some light on the subject.”

“It’s clear now,” he said. “A clear flame, licking the book. A tongue of fire. Here’s Latin: lambere, ‘lick’.”

“Licks but does not burn,” I said. “Not a flambeau. Just a muse of fire. A tongue that illuminates but does not consume. A mental fire.”

“A tongue and a mind may glow together. They may cut like metal or soothe like balm; they may bring meat to the table for your meal. They brook no blame.”

“This is all in pieces, elements,” I said. “The word in your mouth is coming apart and mixing up.”

“Flame is eminently mutable. Simply let it not be muted. And – ah!” he said, reaching for the volume, which I was about to close. I handed it to him, open. “Let it be,” he said. “If it is lambent, let it be, for you will see softly by its light. If it cannot be –” he waved his finger over the b, momentarily obscuring it – “what is left is a lament in the darkness.”

flamenco

Ellos comen flamas. They eat flames.

Out of the fireplace it whispered, crackled, capered. Tapping a pattern, it set its tight staccato: stop hesitating, start touching lightning, keep those charges arching; caught in the netting, what is the flutter, nothing but your heart there. Sing for your supper, dance till you’re tattered, pluck and slap and clap now – pain is your tutor, time is your torture, can’t you catch the rapture?

And in the echoing clockwork of the finger snaps and beaten boxes, sounding boards and castanets, and woven around the rapid ecstatic dance of the fingertips on the guitar, winds a voice, wailing in microtonal portamento and ornamentation of unequal temperament, the aching of a heart, a noble heart, a bright heart, a red bird burning in a net, flames in the chest curling out through the mouth, the pain writhing on the face: and the feet, the feet stamp, the feet hammer and tamp, as the body bound in flowing fabric arches and twists and strains like fire to reach the saving air, the feet beat the heart, beat the flaming heart, beat till the torture is rooted out, beat till the heart is in cinders and sparks, and the flaming flakes of paper fluttering up to the black-blue sky are flamingos, birds of the flames, pájaros de las flamas, flamencos…

This dance, this dance of the face, the heart, the shredding tension between heaven and hell, this dance of the fingers curling like waves and flame, this slow melismatic anfractuous dance of the voice, this ecstatic yet muriatic music, where does it come from? Is it Flemish, flamenco, or from the flaming bird, flamenco, or can we ever know? Its roots are Gypsy, Roma, but it is everywhere now, and where did it roam from? It looks a bit like Kathak dance from India. The microtonal sounds and ragged rhythm reach towards raga. But when your soul is searing on its grill, when you are trapped in the crackle of its lightning, when the hammering of your heart is played out by thumbs and fingertips and toes and heels in unreciprocating tempi, and your spirit is extenuated, flaco, lean, so you cannot even say amen, can you tell me then where it comes from but the flame that eats the flame?

apodictic

The ground on which my words were founded foundered. The descriptions and depictions had become unpredictable; I panicked; I portended aporia and predicted apocalypse: I espoused a doubt leading only to the conclusion that is the end, and by no means could I reach it.

One word of truth, firm, not relative! Or even an apophthegm, a didactic maxim. Can no one show me the way? Quick, apodeixis: an absolute proof. Where may I find it? Not in Metaxa or 80-proof Absolut. And not, for goodness’ sake, in apocope. No, say, in what disrobing room of the mind, what apodyterium of the brain’s bath-house, may what had been rooted and descending as a p turn and, abruptly apogeotropic, ascend as a d so that we may say “I see, I see”?

Do I decrypt the apocrypha, or pick up a dictionary? How is it that I may expect direction? I look away and find “away”, Greek apo, but it is already getting away from me: this “way” may mean “very”. Show me the way, then? It is the “way showing”: apodicticus, ἀποδεικτικός, established in incontrovertible evidence and thus truth of an adamantine nature: apodictic.

Yes, bedrock, a certainty particularly applicable to the purest of mathematics. Nothing moves, nothing is relative. But in bits linguistic, this is an impudent trick, a dupe; I appeal to apodioxis, the rejection of assertions as absurd. Language is polymorphous perverse, a social creation, and communication is a particular copulation of solipsistic consciousnesses. The frames of reference are never identical, the perspectives and experiences incommensurate. It is between these irreconcilables that the contact occurs, requiring respect and cooperation, at least enough to accept the phones or pixels as indexes of schemata and deixes to extending intentions. The apodictic must perforce by apomictic: an asexual reproduction, which is to say, a single source undilute, a parthenogenesis. In place of agape, apogamy. Incontrovertible because untouchable.

Purity is not the way of the word. One cannot create without loss and cross-contamination. In the tears excited by every apodacrytic exists a successful succubus. When you seek the way, you see not one, not strait, nor straight, but two roads, diverging because converging (diachronic misdirection?). And can you have genesis without disingenuousness? I will not speak here of apophasis.

As the smoke cleared and I caught a glimpse of my psychopomp, I knew that my search was not over but away. In language we stand not on rock; we are all pulling up each other’s bootstraps, and who knows where in time and space is the basis. So preempt the apodictic, and at its temple pronounce your apopemptic: a hymn of farewell, not to what never was but to the hope you kept. One is too lonely a number in any case.

I dropped the rock I had picked up; my doppelganger pocketed it. And that was where we stood. Our ground was what we held in common, or one after the other. I knew that he knew that I knew that he knew that I knew that the matter of facts was hypotactic, embedded, subordinate, turtles all the way down. In the beginning was the word, but you cannot find the beginning of words. We made our exit into the dappled crepuscule: it was evening out.

ovoviviparity

This seems an overly vivid word, a party of o’s and v’s and i’s, almost a parody. Seven syllables, fifteen letters, an even alternation of vowels and consonants, like a typographical topiary. It revs three times with the teeth on the lip and then it breaks free.

But how may we read it? It seems almost a numerical puzzle: are those Roman numerals, V for 5 and I for 1? I for one am not so sure; 0 (zero) is not a Roman numeral. Perhaps one or more of those v’s is actually a logical disjunction operator, “or”? As in “ovo or ivi”? (One looks like a bike, the other like a guy with ski poles.) Or “o or 0 or i or 1”? Are we trying to reach some kind of parity here?

Can you tear it apart, morphologically? This is the most perspicuous version of the word; it is also seen as ovovivipary and ovivipary. But I’m sure you all remember the famous telegram that cracked the tangle of the platypus: “Monotremes oviparous, ovum meroblastic.” Which is to say, playtpuses and echidnas lay eggs with big yolks. Telegrams were charged by word. The word with the charge in this case, for us, is oviparous – giving birth by egg. This contrasts with viviparous, giving live birth.

So, uh, ovo+vivi+parous, or ovo+vivi+parity for the noun… egg-live-birthing… How does that work, exactly? Well, the embryo gestates in an egg inside the mother. It’s not like gestating in a placenta, with nourishment given directly from the mother; the nourishment comes from the yolk in the egg. But the egg is not laid and left to develop in a nest or elswhere; the nest is the mother herself. So you start with eggs o o and then they hatch into little ones i i…

And what kind of creature does this? Assorted fish, reptiles, and invertebrates, mainly. Some sharks do it. Sometimes it’s more complex than that, too. The little shark (v v v) eggs (o o) grow the little sharks (ovivipary … ovovivipary … ovoviviparity) until at last one (i) hatches… and, no longer having the yolk, needs food. So it eats what’s available: the other eggs, its would-be siblings. (This seems like viviovorapacity!) It brings down the overcapacity to a parity, bite by bite (v v v). You can see the melee of twists and bits tearing apart in parit until finally it is ready to swim free (y)… As with so many things, it wins by being primus inter pares.

Thanks to @megoc and @NemaVeze for suggesting this.

truckle

The times are mickle when fortune’s fickle,
and tricks and traps are ticklish,
and luck once quick’ll trim to trickle,
and cherry bowl turn picklish;

you’re chucked with junk on bottom bunk,
and jerks can peek and chuckle,
but are you sunk in deepest funk?
And will you bow and truckle?

Say, what’s that mean, that word I’ve seen,
that truckle just back there?
It’s treacle-sticky, crackle-tricky,
flickering in the air…

Oh, here: to wit, it means “submit,”
“lie on a truckle-bed,”
“be robbed of thunder,” “knuckle under,”
and “pully wheel,” I’ve read…

So here’s the feel: it’s from the wheel,
Greek trokhos (source of truck);
trokhileia fully means a pully,
but here’s the turn of luck:

if pully tugs across the rugs
a bed from ’neath a higher,
then truckle-bed is how it’s said,
and thence the sense entire:

the lower berth has lower worth
for folks of low position,
some child or maid or similar grade,
and so it means submission.

But while this place may seem quite base,
pride comes before a fall,
and though you grumble, a truckle tumble
will hardly hurt at all.

So here’s the clue on what to do
when luck has turned to go:
though you feel blue, you may get through
if you can just lie low.

gangrene

“That’s gangrene,” I said.

“No, it’s not going green yet,” he said. “It’s brown now. Was red. White before that.”

“Yes, and soon it will be a greenish-black.”

“But not yet.”

“You need to have that debrided.”

“Well,” he said, “that was the cause of the problem right there. They were de-brided.”

“Who? What?”

“The Green gang,” he said. “I had a crush on the girl. She had a crush on me, though she was engaged to one of the Green boys. She broke it off.” He held up his ring finger. “They crushed it. Nearly broke it off.”

“And the lack of blood flow is causing the tissue to die,” I said. “It’s rotting on the spot. If you develop gas gangrene you’re in for a lot of trouble.”

“Not a gas gang,” he said. “A cigarette gang. But I’ve already found the trouble.”

His finger looked like it hurt pretty badly. But the nerve endings were already dead. “Clostridia bacteria,” I said. “They’re anaerobic. Deprive tissue of oxygen and they can move in, multiply, secrete poison. You can tell them because of the gas bubbles they produce.”

But he was lost in his own gas bubble. “A gangly guy, Green,” he said. “Green with envy. And angry. Angry cranky gangly Green’s gang, grinning as I groaned. Where’s my ring gone?” He turned the finger one way and the other.

I didn’t know what to say. “Gangrene doesn’t have any relation to green,” I mumbled. “It comes from Latin gangrena, from a very similar Greek word. It may or may not be related to canker and cancer.”

He looked up. He seemed to have regained his ingrained rigour. “She reneged and they were wronged. And I am grievously injured.”

“Are you going?” I said.

“To the hospital?” he said. “I agree. Green light. Let’s get going.”

We started to go. “And the girl?” I said.

He just looked at his finger. “Gone to green. Ain’t got no doggone ring.” He looked up at me for a moment. “Ugly word, gangrene.”

minerality

The written form of this word presents to the eyes an asymmetry, with ascenders and descenders clustered on the right side, though the dots on the i’s are more balanced. It starts with more rounded letters and ends with greater linearity and angularity.

In saying it, you start soft with the two nasals, and then roll through two liquids before tapping on the crisper stop at the end – a stop that may be a clean break, or may be a mere flick of the tongue-tip, depending on who is saying it and when and where. The words starts on the lips and then remains on the tongue tip thereafter, and all the vowels are in the front half of the mouth.

Its overtones are of a few familiar words such as miner and inner and reality, and some less common words such as chirality and minatory. Its sources are all Latin, and have gone through shortening and concatenation through the usual process of refinement: minera meant “mineral” and alis was an adjectiving suffix; together they made mineralis, whence mineral, now also once again a noun. To that is added ity from Latin itas, a nominalizing suffix to add to the adjectival stem, for the meaning “mineral quality” or “extent to which something is like a mineral”.

There: all the aspects, in order of perception. Just like a wine tasting. Which is where you will most typically see this word. For the most part, in the rest of the world, something is or is not a mineral, and one seldom needs to speak of its minerality. But when you taste wines – in particular riesling, pinot gris, and unoaked chardonnay, but also sometimes some others – you want to speak of the relative intensity of a taste that is reminiscent of minerals.

By the way, do you wonder just how the heck we know what minerals taste like? Generally people who are not in the habit of licking rocks still understand what minerality means. Why? Well, many of us have drunk “hard” water from mountain streams and so forth and know what the presence of all those dissolved minerals does to the flavour. But also, most if not all of us were children at one time, and kids stick rocks into their mouths all the time. Oh, and one more thing: we know it from the smell of petrichor.

Now, tell me: does minerality strike you as an odd word, an uncommon word, a word that you have any trouble understanding, perhaps not a word at all? I’ve never thought so, but I read the following in a column by Beppi Crosariol, a wine expert (with a very distinctive northern Italian name) who writes for the Globe and Mail:

Chalky flavour is part of a spectrum that aficionados typically call “minerality.” I put that in quotation marks because it’s not a word recognized by most dictionaries. (Wine experts love to make stuff up.)

Most dictionaries don’t recognize it? Really? Actually, he’s right. And the Oxford English Dictionary marks it as “rare”. But it gives two citations, neither of which from a wine writer, and the first of which from 1891, with a citation of minéralité from French in 1874.

Which doesn’t mean that it wasn’t made up independently by a wine writer at some time too. It’s an obvious word. It’s made from a well-known noun and a productive suffix (meaning it’s still used in new formations). Its meaning is, I would expect, pretty obvious; ity belongs to the same family as itude and ness, and if you just start taking nouns and adjectives and adding those endings to them, you will find you are producing words the sense of which is quite transparent even if you have never seen them before. You may, for instance, talk of the iPhonity or iPhonitude or iPhoneness of some Android knockoff. (All three of those words are already in use in many places – Google them and see.) Does it matter whether those are in the dictionary? Of course not. I used them and you understood them. That’s all it takes.

By the way, Crosariol points out another useful fact: “the mineral content in wine is well below the threshold of human taste and smell.” Yes indeedy. You’re not smelling actual minerals. You’re smelling things that smell like minerals.

And? That’s the point of tasting notes, after all: to tell you what something tastes like, not just what it tastes of. It would be boring just to say “this wine tastes of fermented grapes” every time. Wines made with merlot do not as a rule contain blackberries; wines made with gewürztraminer are not normally made with actual lychees. So what. They still taste like those things. When you see a green that is actually made with blue and yellow inks, you are still seeing green. The point is what you are experiencing; the question of where it comes from is a separate point – also a very interesting point, but separate.

And so the inner reality of minerality is not simply some lapidary statement of its denotation and etymology; it is enhanced by mining it for all the aesthetic interfaces available between it and you. You need not be a Merlin to find in its entrail tastes and connections that are purely adventitious and yet present for those who look – just open the tiny mailer of its form and spill the contents out. If you want it, it can be there.

spermaceti

I recently finished reading Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick, a long set of disquisitions and descants on whales, whaling, and life and all that, with occasional interruptions of plot. You have surely heard of it. Most people haven’t read it, but they know it’s about a whale.

Well, actually, it’s about a whaling ship and all its seamen and its captain who is obsessed with killing a particularly aggressive albino sperm whale, which has gotten the name Moby Dick (most whales don’t get names, of course, but a few achieve a certain fame). It’s very important that it’s a sperm whale. Most other whales – baleen whales – can’t do the kind of damage an aggressive bull sperm whale can do if it has a mind to. It’s not that the other whales aren’t big; it’s not that they can’t fight back at all; it’s that they don’t have teeth per se, and so can’t bite, and they don’t have foreheads that can be used for ramming aggressively. Sperm whales have both.

So why chase after sperm whales when other, less obstreperous whales are out there? It’s all in the head. That forehead, specifically. Which has no bones in it – it’s not really what corresponds to our forehead anatomically; it’s more of a huge lump on top of the jaw. And it’s filled with spermaceti.

That’s not what you may think it is. It’s not what the earliest people to encounter it thought it was, either – finding it washed up from dead sperm whales, they believed it was the sperm of a whale. Thus the name: sperma, sperm (“seed”), and ceti, “of a whale” – Latin, of course, though the ceti comes originally from Greek. But actually spermaceti is a kind of wax, a wax that is typically in a fluid state in the whale’s head but crystallizes easily. It makes excellent candles and also has some value in cosmetics, leatherworking, lubricants, that sort of thing. Sperm whales also have blubber, to be sure, from which oil can be extracted – much needed before the age of electricity. But spermaceti was what made it worthwhile chasing after these big brutes.

So, anyway, once it was figured out which whales this “sperm” came from, they came to have the name spermaceti whales, or sperm whales for short. So now you know. But let’s work our fingers through this word spermaceti a little more.

Actually, the word has historically been worked through a fair amount and kneaded into various forms; a notable now-disused mutation is parmacety, which has also been spelled parmacete, parmacitie, parmasitie, parmacetie, parmacety, parmacity, permaceti, permacetty, parmasity, parmaceti, parmacetty, parmacitty, parmasitty, and pahmacity (thanks, OED), all of which make me think of Parmesan cheese and Parma ham, or for that matter Parma city itself. Or perhaps pharmaceutic, permanence, tenacity, and acidity – or, indeed, aceite, which is Spanish for “oil”.

Spermaceti of course has those latter echoes too; one may be tempted to think it is sperm+aceti. But of course it is not; you may as well think of it as like Superman ceti, a Superman of a whale, a real supreme cetacean. You may also think of spermatozoa, naturally, but also of per, perm, mac, mace, and things etic and emic that you may cite.

The word works your tongue and lips with a back-and-forth interplay; it also works your hand as you write it (perhaps you should use a quill pen), with numerous turns and reversals, like an ampersand but so much longer.

How much longer? Perhaps an apostrophe. No, not the punctuation mark; a digression, an aside, of which Moby-Dick has quite a few, both from the author to the reader and from characters to, well, supposedly themselves but really the reader, of course. And while the whale may be white, the prose is often purple. Salty sea-dogs discourse with their demons in page-long paragraphs of pseudo-Shakespearean omphaloskeptic peregrinations. It gets quite thick and oily, and sometimes starts to crystallize unless you knead it well.

Just like spermaceti, to be sure. Or, as Melville often calls it in the common terminology of his chronotope, simply sperm. Allow me to close with a lengthy passage from the book that will give this word more flavour – without mentioning the whole word until the very last – than any dry disquisition. It will also snag this word tasting note in many a filter, with its talk of the seamen squeezing sperm all day. But remember: he’s talking about a kind of wax that comes in tens of gallons from the whale’s head. (Oh dear. That sentence will probably snag on some filters too.) This is from chapter XCIV:

While some were occupied with this latter duty, others were employed in dragging away the larger tubs, so soon as filled with the sperm; and when the proper time arrived, this same sperm was carefully manipulated ere going to the try-works, of which anon.

It had cooled and crystallized to such a degree, that when, with several others, I sat down before a large Constantine’s bath of it, I found it strangely concreted into lumps, here and there rolling about in the liquid part. It was our business to squeeze these lumps back into fluid. A sweet and unctuous duty! no wonder that in old times this sperm was such a favorite cosmetic. Such a clearer! such a sweetener! such a softener! such a delicious mollifier! After having my hands in it for only a few minutes, my fingers felt like eels, and began, as it were, to serpentine and spiralize.

As I sat there at my ease, cross-legged on the deck; after the bitter exertion at the windlass; under a blue tranquil sky; the ship under indolent sail, and gliding so serenely along; as I bathed my hands among those soft, gentle globules of infiltrated tissues, woven almost within the hour; as they richly broke to my fingers, and discharged all their opulence, like fully ripe grapes their wine; as I snuffed up that uncontaminated aroma, – literally and truly, like the smell of spring violets; I declare to you, that for the time I lived as in a musky meadow; I forgot all about our horrible oath; in that inexpressible sperm, I washed my hands and my heart of it; I almost began to credit the old Paracelsan superstition that sperm is of rare virtue in allaying the heat of anger: while bathing in that bath, I felt divinely free from all ill-will, or petulence, or malice, of any sort whatsoever.

Squeeze! squeeze! squeeze! all the morning long; I squeezed that sperm till I myself almost melted into it; I squeezed that sperm till a strange sort of insanity came over me; and I found myself unwittingly squeezing my co-laborers’ hands in it, mistaking their hands for the gentle globules. Such an abounding, affectionate, friendly, loving feeling did this avocation beget; that at last I was continually squeezing their hands, and looking up into their eyes sentimentally; as much as to say, – Oh! my dear fellow beings, why should we longer cherish any social acerbities, or know the slightest ill-humor or envy! Come; let us squeeze hands all round; nay, let us all squeeze ourselves into each other; let us squeeze ourselves universally into the very milk and sperm of kindness.

Would that I could keep squeezing that sperm for ever! For now, since by many prolonged, repeated experiences, I have perceived that in all cases man must eventually lower, or at least shift, his conceit of attainable felicity; not placing it anywhere in the intellect or the fancy; but in the wife, the heart, the bed, the table, the saddle, the fire-side, the country; now that I have perceived all this, I am ready to squeeze case eternally. In thoughts of the visions of the night, I saw long rows of angels in paradise, each with his hands in a jar of spermaceti.