Language Log

Yesterday, I spent a fascinating afternoon at Ofer Tchernichovski's lab at CCNY. And a couple of weeks ago, the Penn Linguistics Department colloquium featured Ofer talking about some of his lab's recent research, including this work: Olga Feher, Partha P. Mitra, and Ofer Tchernichovski, "Abnormal isolate birdsong evolves into normal song over a few generations".

Zebra finches are among the songbirds who learn their songs by imitating adults, just as human children learn their language by interaction with those who already know it. Male songbirds raised in isolation, without any conspecific adult models during the critical period for song learning, are handicapped for life: they develop only an ill-organized, infantile "subsong". From the example of abused or feral children like Genie, we know that something similar happens with human children.

In both cases, this raises a sort of chicken-and-egg question: if normal development requires an adult model, then which came first, the pupil or the tutor?

Yes, it's a three-comic morning.

From stereotypist (4/23/2008).

It's a class-conscious respelling that's not used "to indicate that the speaker is uneducated or using colloquial, dialectal, or nonstandard speech".

(Click on the image for a larger version, as usual.)

Explain. Extra credit: compare to Hannibal Lecter's famous line "A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti."

This all started when John Cowan defended the New Yorker's account of a long-past Republican debate, by proposing that Rudy Giuliani retains the syllable-timed speech rhythm of his Italian ancestors, in contrast to Mitt Romney's standard American stress-timed speech. I didn't share the intuition, and did a little experiment to show that Rudy's syllables, far from being a "constant rate … dadadadadadada", were actually more variable in duration than Mitt's were ("Slicing the syllabic bologna", 5/5/2008).

Then Jonathan Mayhew asked whether "there’s a psychological perception of syllable-timed language that is not visible in the objective data". I responded with a little experiment to illustrate the fact that syllables in (say) Spanish really are closer to being constant in duration than syllables in English are, even though this is mostly if not entirely because of the intrinsic durations of the syllable inventories in the two languages ("Another slice of prosodic sausage" 5/6/2008).

But this leaves the "stress-timed" side of the traditional distinction unexamined. So today's little Breakfast Experiment™ takes a look at the idea that speakers of languages like English arrange stressed syllables (as opposed to all syllables) equally in time.

I don't have time for a full post this morning, but here's the bare bones of one. (In fact, I develop most posts from an annotated series of hyperlinks like this is going to be, whereas bones don't develop before flesh does; so a better metaphor would be "the columns and beams of one".)

In 1958 a Virginia couple were rousted from their bed in the middle of the night by a county sheriff, arrested, tried, and convicted of the crime of miscegenation, for which they were sentenced to a year in jail. With the assistance of the American Civil Liberties Union, they appealed the conviction all the way to the Supreme Court, which on June 12, 1967 ruled unanimously that the Virginia law against inter-racial marriage violated the Equal Protection clause of the Constitution and overturned the convictions.

Mildred Loving passed away on May 2 at the age of 68.

From Robert Rummel-Hudson's blog Fighting Monsters with Rubber Swords, under the heading "What could I possibly add to this?":

(Hat tip to Elizabeth Daingerfield Zwicky.)

Like I said yesterday, the whole stress-timed-vs.-syllable-timed business is "a gigantic tangled intellectual thicket that’s easy to get into and hard to get out of". And one of the comments on my post asked a question that tempts me in further:

So then there’s a psychological perception of syllable-timed language that is not visible in the objective data?

Yes and no.

In my recent exchange with John McIntyre, I matched his jocular aside about the meat grinder of linguistic scholarship with my own little joke about the food processor of copy-editing. By chance, this morning's mail brought a note from Helen Dewitt, mentioning that her Paperpools post "Cormac McCarthy & the semi-colon" (8/17/2007) has just been reprinted at Art Nouveau, "with an illustration, no less". It's great fun to read, with or without the illustration, though it was obviously not at all fun to live.

Yesterday afternoon, I got this note from John Cowan, that indefatigable correspondent:

You linked to the piece on Romney vs. Giuliani speaking styles today,
so I checked back to see if you ever added my comment on it, but I
think I probably sent it during the period when my mail to you was being mysteriously blackholed. So here it is again.

In fact, I recall getting John's comments the first time. But they brought up a problematic point that deserves a post of its own — the vexed question of "stress-timed" vs. "syllable-timed" languages — and so I put John's note on my to-blog list, where it languished until now. I still don't have time for a proper answer, but I'll respond briefly (hah!) under the rubric of fact-checking.

A couple of weeks ago, John McIntyre took a critical look at Word Rage ("Walsh should be shot!") — from the prescriptivist point of view ("With friends like this", 4/14/2008). John is not only the Baltimore Sun's assistant managing editor for the copy desk, but also a past president of the American Copy Editors Society, so his opinions about usage are authoritative as well as thoughtful and interesting. As a regular reader of his weblog, I spent a few minutes pondering this passage:

Descriptivists, like the doughty linguists at Language Log, range over all written and spoken language, formal and informal, standard and nonstandard, to turn their findings into scholarship. (That’s the grand thing about an academic discipline: Once you own a grinder, you can turn anything into sausage.)

But my doughty descriptive attempts at interpretation didn't converge, as I explained in a blog post ("Scholarship and sausage-making", 4/15/2008).

Now John has explained the meat-grinder metaphor at greater length ("You're not from around here, are you?", 5/2/2008).