It's one of those rules we're often told as writers. Don't write in Latin, write in Anglo-Saxon! This so-called 'rule' has been around quite a while. In Politics & The English Language (1946) George Orwell wrote "bad writers... are nearly always haunted by
the notion that Latin or Greek words are grander than Saxon ones".
But, what does this mean? Do we have to check the etymology of every word we scribble down in our manuscript books, weeding out the obnoxious foreigners and replacing them with good, solid, stalwart Germanic conciseness? Or does it mean we should write in an archaic style and pepper our prose with lovely words such as erstwhile, forsooth and threap? Are we banned from using words such as obfuscate, perambulate, egregious and impecunious?
Well, let's think about this for a moment, with a couple of examples. Here's the opening line of Edward Bulwer-Lytton's book Paul Clifford;
It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents — except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.
Hmm? I can spot only one Latin verb in that sentence, so it's very 'Anglo-Saxon'. Now, here's the opening sentence to Charles Dickens' Oliver Twist;
Among other public buildings in a certain town, which for many reasons it will be prudent to refrain from mentioning, and to which I will assign no fictitious name, there is one anciently common to most towns, great or small: to wit, a workhouse; and in this workhouse was born; on a day and date which I need not trouble myself to repeat, inasmuch as it can be of no possible consequence to the reader, in this stage of the business at all events; the item of mortality whose name is prefixed to the head of this chapter.
Well, there's at least nine extremely 'Latin' words in that opening. But what's the real difference between these two sentences? The first is the inspiration for the annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Competition where applicants are invited to enter opening sentences for the worst of all possible novels (i.e. that are deliberately bad). Bulwer-Lytton's sentence has been described as the worst opening line of all time and Bulwer-Lytton himself as the worst author of all time (unfairly in my opinion). Whereas Dickens' sentence (one of the longest he ever wrote!), is pure verbiage, full of Latin words and wandering subclauses, and goes on and on and on. But still, next to Bulwer-Lytton, it's pure genius.
Incidentally, if the opening phrase of Bulwer-Lytton's piece seems familiar, it's because it is, having been regularly lambasted for more than a century. Other phrases coined by him include "the great unwashed", "pursuit of the mighty dollar" and "the pen is mightier than the sword".
So, the lesson? Rules are there to be broken. Nobody's writing, including yours, should be subject to particular rules of style, but perhaps only to commonly accepted rules of syntax, grammar and punctuation (and even those can be flouted to achieve an unusual literary effect). You can write what the hell you like, and use whatever words you damn well like too! As long as the result works, the words are correct. Forget about the rules.
So, what's with this Anglo-Saxon versus Latin thing then? Shall we forget it completely? Well, let's not be too hasty.
What is it about Latin words that cause us concern? Well, before we answer that, can you even tell the difference between a Latin and an Anglo-Saxon word? How about this list; belt, candle, chest, cup, fan, fork, mile, mint, monk, school, spade, wall. Do they sound Anglo-Saxon to you? Well, they're not, they're Latin. How about this list; amazement, ampersand, behavior, insightful, manifold. Yes, you guessed it, they're all Anglo-Saxon. So, although there is a common misconception that 'long words' are Latin and 'short words' are Anglo-Saxon (and that we should always trump for the shorter, more concise, more 'earthy' version), this idea simply doesn't hold up.
The truth is that the English language has never been purely Germanic. Even the language of the Anglo-Saxons was replete with (sorry, I meant 'full of') Latin words. On the journey from the Old English of the 5th century towards our modern version of it, English has been warped and altered by the French, the Scots, the Irish, the Danes, the Swedes, the Spanish, the Portugese, the Dutch, the Indians, and even the Church, among many others (and, yes, the Americans!). We have even retained some Celtic words (basket, beak, galore, gob, crag, penguin) and one or two British place-names may in fact pre-date even the Celts (Humber, Ayr). This melting pot of languages has made English rich and expressive and we shouldn't just discard (sorry, I meant 'drop') long words in favor of short ones without a damn good reason.
But there often is a good reason. These pesky Latin words can be a problem and they're usually easy to spot. For verbs, they often end in 'ate' or 'ite' for example. For nouns they often end in 's/tion', 'ation', 'ant' or 'tude' and so on. For adjectives they often end in 'ive', 'ous', 'a/ible' . You get the idea. The problem with these words is that they can appear oppressive, verbose and pretentious (or should that be 'clunky', 'wordy' and 'flashy'?). In normal everyday conversation people simply don't use these words. So when you use them in your writing the reader instantly feels a detachment from reality. And that is bad (even if you write in the 'fantasy' genre) because if the reader can't believe in the image you're trying to create, they'll be disengaged and ultimately disinterested. They may even think you're a pompous idiot!
Of course, if you're writing an annual accounting report for an employer, or if the purpose of your writing is to incite these very feelings of detachment, or it hopes to conjure up a particularly archaic or pompous atmosphere, then Latin words may be your best friend. Here's a brief extract from my short story Belper's Emporium;
Mr. Collier was a thoroughly despicable and worthless character. You may feel that such a singular sentiment requires corroboration. One only has to witness the diverse but invariably malicious opinions of Mr. Collier’s neighbors. In return for his incessant discourtesy they afforded him good measures of disrespect and indignation.
I could not have used more obvious Latin pomposity in these sentences. But, that's the whole point. It is designed to evoke a particularly British and Victorian correctness of language, simply because that is the actual tone of the piece. I would never dream of using such language when describing a police chase, for example. Latin words have their place. So too do Anglo-Saxon ones.
So, in conclusion, I'm going to suggest we replace the 'Anglo-Saxon versus Latin' rule with something else. Break the new 'rule' if you wish, but I think this is the only style 'rule' you'll ever need as a writer; make it effective and convincing. And choose the right words to make it so...
But, what does this mean? Do we have to check the etymology of every word we scribble down in our manuscript books, weeding out the obnoxious foreigners and replacing them with good, solid, stalwart Germanic conciseness? Or does it mean we should write in an archaic style and pepper our prose with lovely words such as erstwhile, forsooth and threap? Are we banned from using words such as obfuscate, perambulate, egregious and impecunious?
Well, let's think about this for a moment, with a couple of examples. Here's the opening line of Edward Bulwer-Lytton's book Paul Clifford;
It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents — except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.
Hmm? I can spot only one Latin verb in that sentence, so it's very 'Anglo-Saxon'. Now, here's the opening sentence to Charles Dickens' Oliver Twist;
Among other public buildings in a certain town, which for many reasons it will be prudent to refrain from mentioning, and to which I will assign no fictitious name, there is one anciently common to most towns, great or small: to wit, a workhouse; and in this workhouse was born; on a day and date which I need not trouble myself to repeat, inasmuch as it can be of no possible consequence to the reader, in this stage of the business at all events; the item of mortality whose name is prefixed to the head of this chapter.
Well, there's at least nine extremely 'Latin' words in that opening. But what's the real difference between these two sentences? The first is the inspiration for the annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Competition where applicants are invited to enter opening sentences for the worst of all possible novels (i.e. that are deliberately bad). Bulwer-Lytton's sentence has been described as the worst opening line of all time and Bulwer-Lytton himself as the worst author of all time (unfairly in my opinion). Whereas Dickens' sentence (one of the longest he ever wrote!), is pure verbiage, full of Latin words and wandering subclauses, and goes on and on and on. But still, next to Bulwer-Lytton, it's pure genius.
Incidentally, if the opening phrase of Bulwer-Lytton's piece seems familiar, it's because it is, having been regularly lambasted for more than a century. Other phrases coined by him include "the great unwashed", "pursuit of the mighty dollar" and "the pen is mightier than the sword".
So, the lesson? Rules are there to be broken. Nobody's writing, including yours, should be subject to particular rules of style, but perhaps only to commonly accepted rules of syntax, grammar and punctuation (and even those can be flouted to achieve an unusual literary effect). You can write what the hell you like, and use whatever words you damn well like too! As long as the result works, the words are correct. Forget about the rules.
So, what's with this Anglo-Saxon versus Latin thing then? Shall we forget it completely? Well, let's not be too hasty.
What is it about Latin words that cause us concern? Well, before we answer that, can you even tell the difference between a Latin and an Anglo-Saxon word? How about this list; belt, candle, chest, cup, fan, fork, mile, mint, monk, school, spade, wall. Do they sound Anglo-Saxon to you? Well, they're not, they're Latin. How about this list; amazement, ampersand, behavior, insightful, manifold. Yes, you guessed it, they're all Anglo-Saxon. So, although there is a common misconception that 'long words' are Latin and 'short words' are Anglo-Saxon (and that we should always trump for the shorter, more concise, more 'earthy' version), this idea simply doesn't hold up.
The truth is that the English language has never been purely Germanic. Even the language of the Anglo-Saxons was replete with (sorry, I meant 'full of') Latin words. On the journey from the Old English of the 5th century towards our modern version of it, English has been warped and altered by the French, the Scots, the Irish, the Danes, the Swedes, the Spanish, the Portugese, the Dutch, the Indians, and even the Church, among many others (and, yes, the Americans!). We have even retained some Celtic words (basket, beak, galore, gob, crag, penguin) and one or two British place-names may in fact pre-date even the Celts (Humber, Ayr). This melting pot of languages has made English rich and expressive and we shouldn't just discard (sorry, I meant 'drop') long words in favor of short ones without a damn good reason.
But there often is a good reason. These pesky Latin words can be a problem and they're usually easy to spot. For verbs, they often end in 'ate' or 'ite' for example. For nouns they often end in 's/tion', 'ation', 'ant' or 'tude' and so on. For adjectives they often end in 'ive', 'ous', 'a/ible' . You get the idea. The problem with these words is that they can appear oppressive, verbose and pretentious (or should that be 'clunky', 'wordy' and 'flashy'?). In normal everyday conversation people simply don't use these words. So when you use them in your writing the reader instantly feels a detachment from reality. And that is bad (even if you write in the 'fantasy' genre) because if the reader can't believe in the image you're trying to create, they'll be disengaged and ultimately disinterested. They may even think you're a pompous idiot!
Of course, if you're writing an annual accounting report for an employer, or if the purpose of your writing is to incite these very feelings of detachment, or it hopes to conjure up a particularly archaic or pompous atmosphere, then Latin words may be your best friend. Here's a brief extract from my short story Belper's Emporium;
Mr. Collier was a thoroughly despicable and worthless character. You may feel that such a singular sentiment requires corroboration. One only has to witness the diverse but invariably malicious opinions of Mr. Collier’s neighbors. In return for his incessant discourtesy they afforded him good measures of disrespect and indignation.
I could not have used more obvious Latin pomposity in these sentences. But, that's the whole point. It is designed to evoke a particularly British and Victorian correctness of language, simply because that is the actual tone of the piece. I would never dream of using such language when describing a police chase, for example. Latin words have their place. So too do Anglo-Saxon ones.
So, in conclusion, I'm going to suggest we replace the 'Anglo-Saxon versus Latin' rule with something else. Break the new 'rule' if you wish, but I think this is the only style 'rule' you'll ever need as a writer; make it effective and convincing. And choose the right words to make it so...
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