THE SCRABBLE FOR ACCEPTANCE
Anyone who has ever played Scrabble will be familiar with the notion of creative linguistics. The thinking runs as follows: a gap exists on the Scrabble board around a high-scoring square and you have some letters, so you fill the gap as best you can and then work out any semantic issues afterwards.
There are two techniques the creative linguist can use. The first is to mangle an existing word, for example by pluralising it or by adding a prefix or suffix. The second technique is to come up with a novel combination of letters and claim it's actually a word. Either way, the resulting atmosphere can be a heady combination of pub brawl and Call My Bluff.
Years and years ago when I worked in the public relations office of Wirral Borough Council, I used to play Scrabble most lunchtimes. The two approaches referred to above were exemplified by two of my colleagues - let’s call them Tom and Jerry. Tom was a graphic designer who couldn’t spell to save his life, owned 36 pairs of shoes (so he said), and had the infuriating habit of always putting down the letter S in just the right place at just the right time. So much so that we called him Toms.
Jerry was our boss, an exasperating larger-than life skiver, name-dropper and outrageous cheat. On one occasion, after much mumbling and sucking on his pipe, he put down the word COYT, claiming it was ‘a type of Mexican wind’, to howls of derision. We duly consulted the office dictionary but there was nothing between COYPU and COZ in support of his claim, so the best he could do was feign surprise and withdraw with good grace.
The moral of this tale is that Scrabble is about low animal cunning rather than having a ‘good vocabulary’, the latter being of no use if you can’t spot the chance to put down, say, AS vertically at the end of a horizontal ZIP, thereby claiming AS and ZIPS, as well as AX (American spelling) on the line above if you’re really lucky.
On such occasions, the question is, ‘when is a word not a word?’ In Scrabble the solution is to consult the dictionary. What the dictionary tells you is that COZ (an archaic word for cousin) comes in handy if you’re stuck with the Z.
Other useful words include JO (a Scottish word for sweetheart), TI (a woody palm-like plant of the East Indies), MI (the third note of the major scale in sol-fa notation – the others are handy too), MO (an informal word for moment, and not an abbreviation), and the Scrabble player’s favourite, ZO (a Tibetan animal bred by crossing yaks and cattle; also spelt ZHO and DZO).
But enough of esoteric monosyllables – away from the adrenaline and blood of the Scrabble board, when is a word not a word?
The rules of Scrabble state that the dictionary is the final arbiter, specifically the one published by Chambers, but elsewhere it is possible to go to appeal. Despite a widespread feeling that a word has been granted some kind of official status by being included in the dictionary (the Dictionary, like the Bible, alludes to a supreme authority), the main criterion is actually usage. If someone says ‘that’s not a word’, the response should be, ‘well, it is now’, whether the dictionary acknowledges it or not.
What is at issue is the cut-off point, the line in the sand. Words get into dictionaries because lexicographers allow them in; in effect, lexicographers are the bouncers at the Word Club, and admission is at the discretion of the management. In recent years the dress code has become pretty liberal, though in former times even ‘smart casual’ was often not good enough, and the great unwashed stood no chance.
Obviously, you don't want to lower the tone too much, so you can’t let in every Tom, Dick or Jerry, and anyway the place has a limited capacity. On the other hand, you don’t want to be considered too elitist. So what you do with prospective new members, the ones not either on the guest list or with someone you know, is make them wait around outside, then after a while go and check to see who’s still there and who’s disappeared. Basically, anyone who hangs around for long enough and gets themselves noticed will probably get in as long as they don’t try to be too trendy, otherwise people might start to think the management have gone soft.
As an example, consider the word weaponize. Is weaponize a word? Answer: it is now. Inelegant, clumsy, scruffy, not your kind of word at all perhaps, but nevertheless it turned out to have some quite influential friends. And, crucially, it did a job that would not otherwise have got done.
I first saw it hanging around in the group weaponized plutonium, referring to plutonium from spent nuclear fuel that, because of its high density and consequent armour-piercing capabilities, has been used to make ammunition for anti-tank weapons. This seemed valid, so I did a bit of research. I was surprised to find that it was also used as a transitive verb, and the transitive verb had two quite distinct senses.
Usage is the criterion, as stated above, so let me give examples for these two senses. An example of one sense is: the Soviets had weaponized tonnes of smallpox. Here, weaponize means to make or incorporate into a missile or similar weapon.
The second sense is shown in: the Bush government wants to weaponize outer space, meaning, in effect, to militarise.
On the basis of these two uses, weaponize seems a perfectly valid candidate for admission to the Word Club. I proposed it, it was accepted, but it’s not in the dictionary – yet, unless a new edition has come out.
This type of thing is not new. In 1755, Samuel Johnson published A Dictionary of the English Language – the first one, in fact. While working on it he published an essay in which he wrote:
I have laboured to refine our language to grammatical purity, and clear it from colloquial barbarisms, licentious idioms and irregular combinations
However by the time that he published the Dictionary itself he had changed his view, writing in the introduction:
with... justice may the lexicographer be derided, who... shall imagine that his dictionary can embalm his language, and save it from corruption and decay
and concluding
sounds are too volatile and subtile for legal restraints; to enchain syllables, and to lash the wind, are equally the undertakings of pride.
So, if you say it or write it often enough, then it's by definition a word. Maybe not for Scrabble, but in any other context. Here’s to Tom and Jerry.
......................................................
bo The bodhi tree or bo tree, also called the sacred fig (Ficus religiosa). The name derives from a large ancient specimen in Bihar, India, revered as the one under which Siddharta Gautama, the founder of Buddhism, attained bodhi or enlightenment.
coyt A hot, dry wind that blows across Mexico in the summer months. Allegedly.
fa The syllable assigned to the fourth note of the musical scale in the solfège music education system; a longer way to run.
qi The energy or life force cultivated in traditional Chinese medicine, and also in the practice of qigong.
qua In the capacity or role of; as.
vril The mysterious, powerful electromagnetic energy used by the subterranean people referrred to as Vril-ya in Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s novel The Coming Race (1871). The idea was subsequently used to create the name of Bovril (bovine vril), and was also enthusiastically investigated by various occultists, presumably unaware that it was only a story.
zo A Tibetan domestic animal that is a hybrid of a yak and a cow. Also spelled dzo, zho, dzho, all of which derive from the Tibetan mdzo. It is technically a male animal, with the female being a dzomo or zhom.
.......................................................
