At the risk of appearing too highly-strung I have to say when I hear ‘epic fail’ I cringe and if one more person sends me a text message and writes ‘your’ instead of ‘you’re’ I think I’m going to lose it.
It has to be said, I love the English language a little more than your average 22 year old so granted I’m going to be a little more picky than others. Regardless, I still think the beauty of semantics has been lost to convenience and the thought of that makes me a little more upset than I should admit online.
Not so long ago I was flipping through the books in the office of my family’s home, scanning the first page of each and hoping that one of the many paperbacks would simply speak to me. I had enjoyed reading some Clive James in the past and so I picked up ‘The Meaning of Recognition’ for the scan test– within the first paragraph I knew this was going straight to top of my ‘To Read’ list.
“Each of the two forms [poetry and essays], I like to think, holds territory in the other, if only through the requirement that it should be written with a care for the connection between theme and craft. Any poem which is all writing and no ideas is a pain in the neck, no matter how adroitly done; and any essay which is all ideas and no writing is dead before it hits the page.” – Clive James, The Meaning of Recognition.
Okay, so I completely understand that many of the mediums that we use to communicate in this day and age are not essays or poetry but rather 140 character micro-blogs and the like. But even still, are we really ready to accept that, linguistically speaking, the romance is lost? (OMG!!! – Paris Hilton)
I see words and phrases like a painter views a colour palette. To me cyan, sapphire and indigo are all simply blue whereas a painter sees the subtleties and will spend the time to ensure the most suitable shade is chosen for the situation at hand. Similarly, when it comes to the written word, I aim (although it make take some trial and error) to add a little colour of a different sense, ensure that all of the tools of the trade that I implement imply the heavy heartedness of the meaning behind them.
Language is our strongest communicative tool. If we communicate effectively we can be inspiring, expressive and we can use it to evoke emotion in others. And so I end my whimsical reflection of a perfectly worded world with one final plead to my fellow communicators:
Please think of a sentence as something sacred, as an appeal to several senses, write so that it is pleasant to see, to hear and to say. Please fight for the beauty of our language or else I fear we will communicate like Neanderthals where simple grunting and stick figures on cave walls is sufficient.
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| New Yorker, May 31 2010 |
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