Artificial language

In his book Word Play, Peter Farb says that roughly 700 artificial languages have been created. None of them has ever caught on.

The most famous of these languages may be Esperanto, invented by a Polish physician in 1887. The idea was to simplify language so that people around the world could easily communicate with each other. Thousands of people have learned the language over the years, but not nearly enough. Esperanto speakers have found that the only time they can use it is with each other. When they come together, they can speak Esperanto, but when they go to a grocery store or to their jobs, they must revert to English, French or whatever language the people in their own community speaks.

Similarly a few Star Trek fans have learned the Klingon language (Klingonese), spoken by an alien race in movies and TV episodes, but have found that they can use it only with fellow fans who have also learned the language. Otherwise Klingonese is useless.

This is not altogether a negative thing. Just as slang is developed for use by insiders, not those outside the group, so an artificial language can serve this purpose. Those who speak the Klingon language probably enjoy being on the inside, even if they can't speak the language outside.

The problem with artificial languages is simply that they are artificial. Real languages develop naturally and very gradually over thousands of years. People who live in close proximity and must communicate on a regular basis speak in a way those around them will understand. We speak a language not because it is simple — most languages are not — but because we must use it to communicate with those we want to communicate with.

We may think it odd that the people of Germany, France, Spain, Italy and other European countries speak different languages even though, in today's world, they seem very near to each other. But for most of history, these cultures and languages developed separately. People didn't travel that much.

Many students learned French or Spanish in high school, yet soon forgot what they learned because they lacked the opportunity to use that language in the community where they lived. These are not artifical languages, but they might as well be in an area where there is little chance to use them.

A possessed father

Raising a teen-age daughter must be terrifying, especially for any father who remembers what teenage boys can be like.

Matt Haig explores this terror in his 2008 novel The Possession if Mr. Cave. Terrence Cave is a dealer in antiques whose wife was killed and then his son commits suicide early in this novel. And now Terrence must raise the boy's twin sister, Byrony, who is 15 and beautiful, by himself — or with the help of his mother-in-law, who always takes the side of the rebellious daughter.

As if this situation would not be intimidating enough for any committed father, Haig adds a complication, The title refers to "possession," and Terrance comes to believe he is possessed by the spirit of his son, who was always jealous of Byrony. Now, Terrance believes, Reuben is trying to harm her through him.

Increasingly the father becomes more desperate, especially as Byrony establishes a serious relationship with a boy judged unworthy of her.

Haig's novel begins with one tragedy, and every reader will know the story is moving headlong toward another one. For this reader, at least, just the initial situation was frightening enough.

Obsolete bookstores

We no longer need bookstores to buy books, even serious books. In fact, bookstores might well be an inefficient way to buy books in the twenty-first century, and it is certainly the case that we have become creatures of efficiency and convenience.

Jeff Deutsch, In Praise of Good Bookstores

Keep in mind that the above lines were written by a bookstore manager, Jeff Deutsch, director of Chicago's Seminary Co-op Bookstores. His career depends on bookstore sales, yet even he concedes bookstores have become unnecessary.

In today's world. where efficiency and convenience reign supreme, stores of almost every kind have become unnecessary. Some people even buy their cars online. Some people get Amazon deliveries of products almost daily. Grocery stores and restaurants will deliver food to your door. Pharmacies do the same, or you can use a drive-through so that you never have to actually enter the store. Many jobs you can do from home. Doctors no longer make house calls. Otherwise, you almost never have to leave home.

But our focus here is bookstores.

I rarely purchase books through Amazon, but two or three times a year I will order relatively rare books I cannot find elsewhere. More commonly I order books from the catalogs of Edward R. Hamilton Bookseller, a company that seems almost as obsolete as a bookstore. Hamilton has a website, but searching through thousands of book titles online can be oppressive. Their catalogs — several each month — are more fun to browse through. Some books are new, sold at discount. Others are remaindered, meaning they did not sell in bookstores and are now available at more extreme discounts.

Then you list the books you want, write a check and send the order form through the U.S. mail, all steps that seem somehow old-fashioned but yet work perfectly well, even though it can take weeks for delivery, not like an Amazon truck showing up in a day or two.

Yet I prefer shopping in bookstores, those few that remain. I like the atmosphere of a bookstore — shelves full of books, tables piled high with books, people who love books, like me, looking for treasures in print.

Just as many of us would rather hold an item of clothing in our hands, try it on and look at ourselves in a mirror before purchasing it, rather that ordering it online and perhaps having to send it back, many of book lovers prefer holding books in our hands. We like to read the cover, leaf through the pages and perhaps read a few lines before making a purchase. I have placed books back on at the shelf simply because I didn't like how they felt.

As long as there are people like us — people who prefer shopping and eating at an actual business, rather than doing everything online and never having a reason to leave home — these businesses will hang on, obsolete or not. Bookstores included.

The wonder in literature

Bryce Canyon

We mostly associate the phrase "state of wonder" with the natural world. A starry night, a glorious sunset, our first glimpse of Bryce Canyon or even a walk through a woods on a perfect autumn day can give us this feeling of wonder.

European cathedrals or skyscrapers can do the same, as can extremely unlikely coincidences, the first glimpse of our newborn son or daughter and a few other experiences in life. But what of literature? Can we experience wonder when we read?

I think the search for wonder may be one of our main motivations for reading. When we read thrillers, for example, some wonder comes with each plot twist. Because there can be so many of them in one novel, thrillers are extremely popular. The fingering of the killer in a murder mystery, usually an unlikely suspect, gives us the wonder we have been reading the whole novel to discover.

In other types of fiction, wonder takes different forms. Often it is found in the perfect sentence somewhere in the midst of a novel where we discover what the title really means or what the story is actually about, when we had thought it was about something else. Sometimes we discover that a character is not the kind of person we had thought all along. Or it may come when the main character, at the end of the story, takes some action we had not foreseen. Sometimes a lovely metaphor offers wonder.

In fiction, revelation provides wonder. Surprise provides wonder. Beauty provides wonder. Not unlike Bryce Canyon

Voting for W.C. Fields

"Is it possible to be funnier than W.C. Fields?" Dick Cavett asks in his foreword to a 2016 reprint of Fields for President, a book Fields wrote for his mock campaign for president in 1940.

Well, yes, it is possible to be funnier than W.C. Fields. Even in his prime, Fields was not funny to everyone. And even those of us who have laughed at his movies over the years have not laughed at everything he did. He had hits and misses, like everyone else who tries to be funny.

His book, which undoubtedly has lost some of its humor over 85 years, has some of both.

Fields's "platform" for the presidency covers seven subjects: marriage, income tax, resolutions (or campaign promises), etiquette, physical fitness, the care of babies and business success. He devotes a chapter to each.

Regarding marriage, he says, "Never try to impress a woman! Because if you do she'll expect you to keep up the standard for the rest of your life." A hit.

On the income tax, he says, "In other words, the government fixes it so that you have a choice of (1) starving to death by having an income so low that you do not have to pay a tax; or (2) have an income high enough to pay a tax — and then starving to death after you've paid it." A hit.

As for kissing babies on the campaign trail, he writes, "I always carried a number of sterilized blindfolds, which I would casually place over each baby's eyes before I kissed it. This prevented its growth from being stunted through terror." Another hit.

The comic's misses tend to come when he gets wordy, as in a long story about a common house fly on the wall at Harvard Medical School that ends up getting a degree. What does this have to do with running for president? Not much, and the humor ends long before the story does.

Those who love W.C. Fields will find enough pleasure here to make reading the book worthwhile. Others should simply avoid it.

An international language

English has become an international language in two different ways. First, people almost everywhere in the world learn English in school even if it is not spoken in their homes. Whether it's for business, for enjoying western movies, websites, books, etc., or simply for speaking with American tourists, it makes sense to learn English wherever one lives.

Recently I stayed in a home where several young men from Nepal were living while attending college in Ohio. In conversing with each other they always spoke their native language, but they could switch to English very easily whenever I stepped into the room. I, on the other hand, know English and only English.

I have known visitors from China, Nigeria, South Korea and other countries who spoke my language as well as I did, often without much of an accent. That's because English is an international language. English speakers can visit almost anywhere in the world and find someone who understands what they are saying.

English is international in another way, as well. The language readily welcomes new words from anywhere. While French is a language that discourages acceptance of foreign words, English readily accepts foreign words and is enriched by them.

Consider the origin of several words so common that we might think of them as being English from the start: rocket (Italian), rapids (Canadian French), punch (Hindi), boss (Dutch), emotion (French), tycoon (Japanese), robot (Czech).

The reason foreign words sound English when English speakers say them is that while we may accept foreign words, we do not, as a rule, accept foreign pronunciations. We may accept ukulele from the Hawaiian language, but that doesn't mean we say it the same way native Hawaiians say it. We turned it into an English word.

By contrast, when an English word is adopted into many other languages, it is often pronounced as an English speaker would say it. Thus, it can be surprising to listen to a German radio station, for example, and to suddenly hear English words, said as an American might say them, inserted into otherwise German sentences.

When other languages sometimes adopt English words, they often take them pronunciation and all. English speakers, on the other, welcome words from anywhere, but then we make them our own.

Nothing respectable

I read in preference to almost every other activity, though I didn't read anything respectable.

Jane Smiley, 13 Ways of Looking at the Novel

Jane Smiley

Like so many girls of her generation, Jane Smiley enjoyed reading the adventures of the Bobbsey Twins and Nancy Drew, as she describes it now, not "anything respectable." Nevertheless she matured into one of America's most respected and versatile novelists, as well as the author of 13 Ways of Looking at the Novel, a 500-plus page book that analyzes 101 major novels, none of them featuring Nancy Drew or the Bobbsey Twins.

I guess one could consider today's brief essay as a continuation of the one I posted a few days ago, "Too many or too few?" At that time I considered the question of whether low-brow books drive out the high-brow ones. In Jane Smiley's case, that was obviously not true.

And I don't think it's true for young readers in general. Anything they read with pleasure, whether it's Nancy Drew mysteries or comic books, encourages the habit of reading. Perhaps they will transition one day from Nancy Drew to Harlequin romances, and that's OK. At least they are still reading. Some of these avid young readers, however, will transition to Jane Austen and George Eliot. What's important for the young is developing the reading habit, an even more challenging goal in an age of smart phones and social media.

My granddaughter, who recently turned 24, always has several books going at once, just like her grandpa. She was overjoyed when I gave her a gift card to buy more books. She is proof that even in today's world it is still possible to create avid readers, not unlike Jane Smiley.