I'm recovering slowly, but I thought I should get some fresh air, so I went down to Japantown to poke around. I stared at the front of the Kabuki, debating whether I should go to a movie, but there was no way to tell non-electronically what the movies were, and my clunker of a phone can't deal with graphic overload (or scroll sideways). I poked about the mall, purifying myself of the last bad memories there. There were many cute shops, but most were not yet open. I admired the scale model of Osaka Castle, home of the Toyotomi clan and then the following Tokugawa clan. I love castles, and it's a shame there are so few in the United States. Eventually, I sat in the sunshine in the Peace Plaza and ate my sandwich. The woman on the other side of the stone circle, who was sketching the sculpture in the center, had satchel with Watchmen characters on the flap; she had bought it in Chinatown. A bit later, I had bought a cup of tea sans lid, so I was forced to walk a fragment of the way home. I passed a line of indigents in front of Macedonia Baptist Church; the Philadelphian Seventh Day Adventist Church lacked such a line, but was open for its service at 11:20. Clearly this corner of San Francisco has a metaphysical connection with the Aegean!
When I returned home, I took Puff the Dog-Sat to the park. I had worried he would have an accident in my apartment, but instead he slept for five hours straight and was ready to visit the nearby dog run. He was very energetic, and a bit uncooperative, but he showed his age in his feeble dominance display. Even he did not seem convinced. (Right now he's hyper because I fed him several pizza crusts and now he refuses to believe there are no more).
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
What A Complex Web We Weave ...
There is still a prejudice, broader and more pervasive in the past, that the languages of the "lesser races" are perforce simpler. This supposition, of course, is rank nonsense, as the description below illustrates.
The Hawaiian verb complex has many components. The order of the components, according to Judd, are:
1. Verbal Prefix
2. Verbal Root
3. Qualifying Adverb (any adverb, not just grammaticalized ones)
4. Passive Marker
5. Verbal Directives
6. Locative Particles, Participle Marker, or Relative Marker
7. Strengthening Particle
8. Subject
9. Object
Component 8 may or may not be valid, depending on the stress patterns of Hawaiian, about which I know little, but Component 9 is rank nonsense.
The Verbal Prefixes, which may be misnamed given the disinclination of VSO languages to prefixation, are tense/mood/aspect indicators such as ke, i, ua, and e. Ke is a marker of the subjunctive; i is the marker of the simple past; ua is the marker of the perfect; e is the marker of the nonpast or positive imperative.
The Verbal Root is the basic verb. Not much to say there, except that it need not be a single word.
The Qualifying Adverb is an adverb that modifies the verb. Although some adverbs have gained grammatical status, most are ordinary adverbs which may refine the meaning of the verb or may change it significantly.
The Passive Marker indicates that the subject of the sentence undergoes the action of the verb rather than causes it. Passive sentences are quite common in Hawaiian..
The Verbal Directive are an interesting quartet about which I have written much here
http://anglicanavenger.blogspot.com/2010/02/lesson-15-mai-aku-la-nei.html
These Verbal Directives are aku, mai, ae, and iho. aku indicates "away from the speaker". mai indicates "toward the speaker." ae indicates "on one side of the speaker." iho indicates "downwards," but can also be used as a reflexive. An example of a perhaps pleonastic distinction is ua haawi aku oe i poi i ke kanaka "You have given the poi to the man." The Verbal Directive aku is probably not necessary to describe the giving motion of haawi, but it is true that giving involve moving the gift away from the giver. In the case of hele, however, i hele aku au means "I went" and i hele mai au means "I came," which receive separate verbs in languages that lack Verbal Directives.
Component 6 can be the Locative Particles (nei and la), the Participle Marker (ana), or the Relative Marker (ai). nei indicates here-and-now. la indicates there but not not-now. It worth noting that the form which Judd introduces as the present tense, ke ... nei, is really the subjunctive Verbal Prefix ke tied to the here-and-now by the Locative Particle nei. The Locative Particle la often appears in questions as a contrast to the certainty of nei. ana changes the verb into a participle, but Hawaiian does not care whether it is passive or active. The order of ana and the Verbal Directive shifts the category of the phrase; hele mai ana is a participle; hele ana mai is a gerund. ai changes the verb into a relative form; this maneuver is necessary since Hawaiian lack a relative pronoun and does not seem to love subordinate clauses of any kind..
The Strengthening Particle is no. This is a useful device, but I have little more to say about it.
The Hawaiian verb complex has many components. The order of the components, according to Judd, are:
1. Verbal Prefix
2. Verbal Root
3. Qualifying Adverb (any adverb, not just grammaticalized ones)
4. Passive Marker
5. Verbal Directives
6. Locative Particles, Participle Marker, or Relative Marker
7. Strengthening Particle
8. Subject
9. Object
Component 8 may or may not be valid, depending on the stress patterns of Hawaiian, about which I know little, but Component 9 is rank nonsense.
The Verbal Prefixes, which may be misnamed given the disinclination of VSO languages to prefixation, are tense/mood/aspect indicators such as ke, i, ua, and e. Ke is a marker of the subjunctive; i is the marker of the simple past; ua is the marker of the perfect; e is the marker of the nonpast or positive imperative.
The Verbal Root is the basic verb. Not much to say there, except that it need not be a single word.
The Qualifying Adverb is an adverb that modifies the verb. Although some adverbs have gained grammatical status, most are ordinary adverbs which may refine the meaning of the verb or may change it significantly.
The Passive Marker indicates that the subject of the sentence undergoes the action of the verb rather than causes it. Passive sentences are quite common in Hawaiian..
The Verbal Directive are an interesting quartet about which I have written much here
http://anglicanavenger.blogspot.com/2010/02/lesson-15-mai-aku-la-nei.html
These Verbal Directives are aku, mai, ae, and iho. aku indicates "away from the speaker". mai indicates "toward the speaker." ae indicates "on one side of the speaker." iho indicates "downwards," but can also be used as a reflexive. An example of a perhaps pleonastic distinction is ua haawi aku oe i poi i ke kanaka "You have given the poi to the man." The Verbal Directive aku is probably not necessary to describe the giving motion of haawi, but it is true that giving involve moving the gift away from the giver. In the case of hele, however, i hele aku au means "I went" and i hele mai au means "I came," which receive separate verbs in languages that lack Verbal Directives.
Component 6 can be the Locative Particles (nei and la), the Participle Marker (ana), or the Relative Marker (ai). nei indicates here-and-now. la indicates there but not not-now. It worth noting that the form which Judd introduces as the present tense, ke ... nei, is really the subjunctive Verbal Prefix ke tied to the here-and-now by the Locative Particle nei. The Locative Particle la often appears in questions as a contrast to the certainty of nei. ana changes the verb into a participle, but Hawaiian does not care whether it is passive or active. The order of ana and the Verbal Directive shifts the category of the phrase; hele mai ana is a participle; hele ana mai is a gerund. ai changes the verb into a relative form; this maneuver is necessary since Hawaiian lack a relative pronoun and does not seem to love subordinate clauses of any kind..
The Strengthening Particle is no. This is a useful device, but I have little more to say about it.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
The Giving Grammar, Part II
I have examined the languages of the Pacific a little more, since Judd's grammar preceded the concept of the ergative. As it turns out, western Pacific languages, such as Hawaiian, tend to be nominative-accusative system rather than eastern Pacific languages, which tend to be ergative-absolutive. This means that the nominative system of Hawaiian must have developed out of a previously ergative-leaning system. Even in Hawaiian, the "passive" system seems to be favored, such that Ua ai ia puaa e au, "The pig was eaten by me" is the almost the same as Ua ai au i puaa "I ate the pig." In an accusative language, the first sentence would be verb-nominative-ablative, and the second would be verb-nominative-accusative; in an ergative-absolutive language, the first sentence would be absolutive-ergative, and the second would be absolutive-preposition phrase.
Returning to the previous examples, the nouns in the phrase Ke haawi aku nei au i keia ia oe
would be nominative-accusative-accusative. It is not uncommon for languages to mark the direct an indirect object in the same manner, and the syntax here provides the information needed to distinguish the two. The second example, Owau ke haawi aku nei i keia ia oe merely fronts the nominative and add the topic marker o. In the third example, O keia ka'u e haawi aku nei ia oe, the accusative direct object is fronted and the nominative au is transformed into the a-class possessive form ka'u. Judd translates this as "This is mine to give to you"; although the form ka'u possesses an appropriate case
and degree of control (a-class) suitable for an ergative, the shift from ke to e would not be necessary in an ergative language. If one wished to place emphasis on the indirect object, the indirect object must be fronted. The subject, however, becomes embedded in a structure ka/na mea a'u. The form a'u is the a-class genitive form of au.; thus it contains the degree of control necessary for a subject, and a case (genitive) often associated with the ergative. The word ka mea can mean "person" or "thing," but can also mean "cause," an appropriate form for the agent of the sentence. Given the habitual dropping of mea from compound phrases, I would not be surprised if the forms ka mea a'u and ka'u had the same origin. The last example, Na'u keia e haawi aku nei ia oe, places au in a dative form in front of keia. Although Judd defines na'u as a dative, it does not serve as a marker of the indirect object, but rather means "for me, concerning me, on account of me." The sense "on account of me" approaches, but perhaps does not reach, the degree of control that an ergative language might use.
Hawaiian is a nominative-accusative language, but with structures that betray its ancestral ergativity.
Returning to the previous examples, the nouns in the phrase Ke haawi aku nei au i keia ia oe
would be nominative-accusative-accusative. It is not uncommon for languages to mark the direct an indirect object in the same manner, and the syntax here provides the information needed to distinguish the two. The second example, Owau ke haawi aku nei i keia ia oe merely fronts the nominative and add the topic marker o. In the third example, O keia ka'u e haawi aku nei ia oe, the accusative direct object is fronted and the nominative au is transformed into the a-class possessive form ka'u. Judd translates this as "This is mine to give to you"; although the form ka'u possesses an appropriate case
and degree of control (a-class) suitable for an ergative, the shift from ke to e would not be necessary in an ergative language. If one wished to place emphasis on the indirect object, the indirect object must be fronted. The subject, however, becomes embedded in a structure ka/na mea a'u. The form a'u is the a-class genitive form of au.; thus it contains the degree of control necessary for a subject, and a case (genitive) often associated with the ergative. The word ka mea can mean "person" or "thing," but can also mean "cause," an appropriate form for the agent of the sentence. Given the habitual dropping of mea from compound phrases, I would not be surprised if the forms ka mea a'u and ka'u had the same origin. The last example, Na'u keia e haawi aku nei ia oe, places au in a dative form in front of keia. Although Judd defines na'u as a dative, it does not serve as a marker of the indirect object, but rather means "for me, concerning me, on account of me." The sense "on account of me" approaches, but perhaps does not reach, the degree of control that an ergative language might use.
Hawaiian is a nominative-accusative language, but with structures that betray its ancestral ergativity.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Virtual Unrealities
In preparation for Wednesday's book club, I scanned my shelves and discovered that my Bester collection d of two books, The Stars My Destination and The Demolished Man. Even though these are his two most famous science-fiction novels, it seemed remiss of the organizer to have never read any short stories of Bester. So I headed down to Borderlands Bookstore and a bought a copy of Virtual Unrealities. The majority of the stories were written in the early years of Bester's career, but the explosive creativity.
"Disappearing Act" feels almost like a Twilight Zone episode, with a small cast and the true conclusion left to the intelligence of the reader. "Oddy and Id" has loads of Freudian psychology, and is most interesting as a study for The Demolished Man. "Star Light, Star Bright" reads as an episode of the Twilight Zone. "5,271,009" is about choices and maturity, but with the patented Bester craziness. "Fondly Fahrenheit" is a fun story, but the mystery in it is a little thin; more importantly, there are no clues before the big reveal. "Hobson's Choice" is an excellent reflection on the illusion of a better future or past. I do find the meaning of the protagonist's name, Addyer, refreshingly appropriate. "Of Time and Third Avenue" is a pleasant little time story, dedicated, I suspected, to Damon Knight. "Time Is The Traitor" is my favorite story in the collection, although bythis point I am beginning to suspect that Bester has a probability and statistics fetish. The ending is bittersweet, but utterly logical. "The Men Who Murdered Mohammed" did not strike me especially forcefully, but I'm not fond of those sort of endings - I also may have read it before. I can't say much about "Pi Man," since I lost interest in it almost immediately. "They Don't Make Life Like They Used To" is a post-apocalyptic tale in which the protagonist has reverted to a childish mentality. I read "The Flowered Thundermug" and enjoyed it, but am at a total loss how to describe it - comparison to Idiocracy plus a crime caper seems inadequate. "Adam and Eve" is another post-apocalyptic travel narrative, whose smoking gun is one I had never considered. I do wonder, though, why iron features so strongly in many early science-fictional devices when its most dramatic reaction is to rust in the presence of oxygen. "3 1/2 To Go" is a fragment, but gives a sense of what other freaks might be in Guy Fourmyles' Four Mile Circus. The following story, "Galatea Galante," covers the circus angle well, and provides an interesting example of synaesthesia in the musical "speech" of the Siren.
"Disappearing Act" feels almost like a Twilight Zone episode, with a small cast and the true conclusion left to the intelligence of the reader. "Oddy and Id" has loads of Freudian psychology, and is most interesting as a study for The Demolished Man. "Star Light, Star Bright" reads as an episode of the Twilight Zone. "5,271,009" is about choices and maturity, but with the patented Bester craziness. "Fondly Fahrenheit" is a fun story, but the mystery in it is a little thin; more importantly, there are no clues before the big reveal. "Hobson's Choice" is an excellent reflection on the illusion of a better future or past. I do find the meaning of the protagonist's name, Addyer, refreshingly appropriate. "Of Time and Third Avenue" is a pleasant little time story, dedicated, I suspected, to Damon Knight. "Time Is The Traitor" is my favorite story in the collection, although bythis point I am beginning to suspect that Bester has a probability and statistics fetish. The ending is bittersweet, but utterly logical. "The Men Who Murdered Mohammed" did not strike me especially forcefully, but I'm not fond of those sort of endings - I also may have read it before. I can't say much about "Pi Man," since I lost interest in it almost immediately. "They Don't Make Life Like They Used To" is a post-apocalyptic tale in which the protagonist has reverted to a childish mentality. I read "The Flowered Thundermug" and enjoyed it, but am at a total loss how to describe it - comparison to Idiocracy plus a crime caper seems inadequate. "Adam and Eve" is another post-apocalyptic travel narrative, whose smoking gun is one I had never considered. I do wonder, though, why iron features so strongly in many early science-fictional devices when its most dramatic reaction is to rust in the presence of oxygen. "3 1/2 To Go" is a fragment, but gives a sense of what other freaks might be in Guy Fourmyles' Four Mile Circus. The following story, "Galatea Galante," covers the circus angle well, and provides an interesting example of synaesthesia in the musical "speech" of the Siren.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
The Giving Grammar, Part I
Hawaiian is classified as a VSO (verb-subject-object) or VAP (verb-agent-patient) language. Thus a word order of VSOI, where I = indirect object, is the default order. The sentence
(1) Ke haawi aku nei au i keia ia oe (VSOI)
means "I give this to you", without emphasis on any of the nouns. If the important noun is the agent ("I"), au moves to a position before the verb complex ke haawi aku nei and receives the common emphatic particle o - the w of owau is an excrescent consonant inserted for ease of pronunciation. The sentence
(2) Owau ke haawi aku nei i keia ia oe (SVOI)
means "I give this to you." This transformation is fairly straightforward. If, however, the important noun is the patient ("this"), i keia moves to a position before the verb and receives the emphatic particle o, but this does not produce
(3a) *O keia ke haawi aku nei au ia oe (OVSI)
as "I give this to you." The patient cannot travel to the other side of the verb without the agent (a travel agent, perhaps?). The agent changes from the nominative case form au to the possessive case, a-class form ka'u; thus the phrase O keia ka'u means "This is mine." O keia may be the important noun here, but it is still not the agent, so Hawaiian change the verb complex ke haawi aku nei to the "infinitive" form e haawi aku nei. When the patient is the important noun, the sentence
(3b) O keia ka'u e haawi aku nei ia oe (OsVI)
means "This is mine to give to you," or, more simply, "I give this to you." One benefit of this structure is the clear delineation of the role of each noun. If the indirect object ("you") is the important noun, oe moves to a position before the verb and receives the emphatic particle o. There is a hitch, however, in this part of Hawaiian grammar: both objects, direct and indirect, receive the preposition i and ia. This similarity probably aids in greater flexibility, but it also creates difficulties. If one treated the direct object and indirect object identically in syntax, the sentence
(3b) O keia ka'u e haawi aku nei ia oe (OsVI)
could also mean "I give you to this" as well as "I give this to you." This is not acceptable to Hawaiian syntax. The agent travels with the indirect object to the land before the verb (in the infinitive form); the indirect.object receives the emphatic particle, and the nominative form of the agent, au, becomes the phrase ka mea a'u; a'u is a genitive case, a-class form. ka mea means "the person," "the thing," or "the cause," so it is well-suited to express the agent. The sentence
(4) O oe ka mea a'u e haawi aku nei i keia (ISVO)
means "I give this to you." The phrase ka mea is not a grammatical fossil: "They give this to you" in this structure would be
(4b) O oe na mea a lakou e haawi aku nei i keia (ISVO), with na, the plural definite article rather than the singular form ka. The grammatical ability to distinguish between possessive and genitive cases seems very important in the last two structures.
There is one last sentence structure which Hawaiian uses to place emphasis on the agent. In this structure, the nominative case au moves to a position before the verb and changes to the dative case, a-class form na'u; keia accompanies au, losing the i but not acquiring the the emphatic o , because it is not the important noun. The sentence
(5) Na'u keia e haawi aku nei ia oe (SOVI)
means "By me this is given to you" or more simply, "I give you this." Once again, all three roles are clearly marked.by position and grammatical case.
(1) Ke haawi aku nei au i keia ia oe (VSOI)
means "I give this to you", without emphasis on any of the nouns. If the important noun is the agent ("I"), au moves to a position before the verb complex ke haawi aku nei and receives the common emphatic particle o - the w of owau is an excrescent consonant inserted for ease of pronunciation. The sentence
(2) Owau ke haawi aku nei i keia ia oe (SVOI)
means "I give this to you." This transformation is fairly straightforward. If, however, the important noun is the patient ("this"), i keia moves to a position before the verb and receives the emphatic particle o, but this does not produce
(3a) *O keia ke haawi aku nei au ia oe (OVSI)
as "I give this to you." The patient cannot travel to the other side of the verb without the agent (a travel agent, perhaps?). The agent changes from the nominative case form au to the possessive case, a-class form ka'u; thus the phrase O keia ka'u means "This is mine." O keia may be the important noun here, but it is still not the agent, so Hawaiian change the verb complex ke haawi aku nei to the "infinitive" form e haawi aku nei. When the patient is the important noun, the sentence
(3b) O keia ka'u e haawi aku nei ia oe (OsVI)
means "This is mine to give to you," or, more simply, "I give this to you." One benefit of this structure is the clear delineation of the role of each noun. If the indirect object ("you") is the important noun, oe moves to a position before the verb and receives the emphatic particle o. There is a hitch, however, in this part of Hawaiian grammar: both objects, direct and indirect, receive the preposition i and ia. This similarity probably aids in greater flexibility, but it also creates difficulties. If one treated the direct object and indirect object identically in syntax, the sentence
(3b) O keia ka'u e haawi aku nei ia oe (OsVI)
could also mean "I give you to this" as well as "I give this to you." This is not acceptable to Hawaiian syntax. The agent travels with the indirect object to the land before the verb (in the infinitive form); the indirect.object receives the emphatic particle, and the nominative form of the agent, au, becomes the phrase ka mea a'u; a'u is a genitive case, a-class form. ka mea means "the person," "the thing," or "the cause," so it is well-suited to express the agent. The sentence
(4) O oe ka mea a'u e haawi aku nei i keia (ISVO)
means "I give this to you." The phrase ka mea is not a grammatical fossil: "They give this to you" in this structure would be
(4b) O oe na mea a lakou e haawi aku nei i keia (ISVO), with na, the plural definite article rather than the singular form ka. The grammatical ability to distinguish between possessive and genitive cases seems very important in the last two structures.
There is one last sentence structure which Hawaiian uses to place emphasis on the agent. In this structure, the nominative case au moves to a position before the verb and changes to the dative case, a-class form na'u; keia accompanies au, losing the i but not acquiring the the emphatic o , because it is not the important noun. The sentence
(5) Na'u keia e haawi aku nei ia oe (SOVI)
means "By me this is given to you" or more simply, "I give you this." Once again, all three roles are clearly marked.by position and grammatical case.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Conditional Love
I'm writing this in response to a comment about my post très romantique on Facebook, since there is much confusion between the imparfait, the futur, and the conditionnel. I recieved a lesson on the conditionnel on Thursday, and there is no better teacher than explaining it to others.
The imparfait is formed from the first plural present root (the third plural present works most of the time, but not always - the imparfait of of aller is allait, not *vait) and the endings -ais, -ais, -ait, -ions, -iez, and -aient. Since this is French, the first three endings and the last are pronounced identically (for a long time, I have wanted to ask a typologists about French). So, if we take the verb danser (which, I am ashamed to admit, I misspelled in the post), the first plural present is nous dansons and the root is dans-. If we attach the imperfect endings, we get:
L'Imparfait
je dansais
tu dansais
il dansait
nous dansions
vous dansiez
ils dansaient
The futur, on the other hand, is formed from the infinitive and endings drawn from the present form of avoir: -ai, -as, -a, -ons, -ez, and -ont. Some endings, of course, are homophonous; in this case, the first and fifth, the second and third, and the fourth and last. If we attach these endings, we get:
Le Futur
je danserai
tu danseras
il dansera
nous danserons
vous danserez
ils danseront
The conditionnel is formed from the infinitive and the imparfait endings. So, one conjugates the conditionnel thus:
Le Conditionnel
je danserais
tu danserais
il danserait
nous danserions
vous danseriez
ils danseront
The irregular verbs are a source of confusion for the conditionnel. The imparfait of il va is il allait, the futur is il ira, and the conditionnel is il irait. These four forms have distinct pronounciations. In the first person singular, however, the forms are je vais, j'allais, j'irai, and j'irais. The futur and the conditionnel have the same pronunciation but different spellings. Homophony in spoken language is more common than many realize, and does not significantly inhibit comprension, but the overlap of the forms of the futur and the conditionnel illustrates the conceptual connection between the conjugations. The forms of aller are laid out below:
Le Futur
j'irai
tu iras
il ira
nous irons
vous irez
ils iront
Le Conditionnel
j'irais
tu irais
il irait
nous irions
vous iriez
ils iraient
The imparfait is formed from the first plural present root (the third plural present works most of the time, but not always - the imparfait of of aller is allait, not *vait) and the endings -ais, -ais, -ait, -ions, -iez, and -aient. Since this is French, the first three endings and the last are pronounced identically (for a long time, I have wanted to ask a typologists about French). So, if we take the verb danser (which, I am ashamed to admit, I misspelled in the post), the first plural present is nous dansons and the root is dans-. If we attach the imperfect endings, we get:
L'Imparfait
je dansais
tu dansais
il dansait
nous dansions
vous dansiez
ils dansaient
The futur, on the other hand, is formed from the infinitive and endings drawn from the present form of avoir: -ai, -as, -a, -ons, -ez, and -ont. Some endings, of course, are homophonous; in this case, the first and fifth, the second and third, and the fourth and last. If we attach these endings, we get:
Le Futur
je danserai
tu danseras
il dansera
nous danserons
vous danserez
ils danseront
The conditionnel is formed from the infinitive and the imparfait endings. So, one conjugates the conditionnel thus:
Le Conditionnel
je danserais
tu danserais
il danserait
nous danserions
vous danseriez
ils danseront
The irregular verbs are a source of confusion for the conditionnel. The imparfait of il va is il allait, the futur is il ira, and the conditionnel is il irait. These four forms have distinct pronounciations. In the first person singular, however, the forms are je vais, j'allais, j'irai, and j'irais. The futur and the conditionnel have the same pronunciation but different spellings. Homophony in spoken language is more common than many realize, and does not significantly inhibit comprension, but the overlap of the forms of the futur and the conditionnel illustrates the conceptual connection between the conjugations. The forms of aller are laid out below:
Le Futur
j'irai
tu iras
il ira
nous irons
vous irez
ils iront
Le Conditionnel
j'irais
tu irais
il irait
nous irions
vous iriez
ils iraient
The tense structure of a conditional clause is a bit bizarre to those of us accustomed to Latin and Greek. The conditionnel is not used in the protasis (the if-clause, the clause which actually establishes the condition), but in the apodosis (the then-clause). The French protasis uses the imparfait. Thus, Si j'avais d'argent, je voyagerais à Hawaii means "If had had money (but I don't), I would have gone to Hawaii." My professor anthropomorphizes this match between the imparfait and the conditionnel as les temps qu'ils s'aiment, "the tenses which love each other."
The other use of the conditionnel is one that my professor did not describe as conditional, but certainly seems so to me: the phrase au cas où, "if it be the case that," establishes a condition. The verb after au cas où must be conditionnel. So, the sentence J'ai acheté les etiquettes au cas où tu voudrais voir l'opéra means "I have bought the tickets in case you would like to see the opera."
I hope that clears up any confusion.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
The Stars My Destination
The Stars My Destination - formally known as Tiger! Tiger! - an apocalyptic, pyrotechnic proto-cyberpunk novel, explosive in its language. The story of Gully Foyle, a worthless piece of meat in human form who transcends his inutility. A treatise on the potential of the common man.
The Stars My Destination is an enjoyable read. It incorporates many of the motifs of cyberpunk without overwhelming the reader without singularity self-pleasuring. The sociological examination of the fallout from a revolutionary discovery (jaunting) is detailed and well thought out. The inversion of the usual direction of one-way telepathy is ingenious, and the neo-Skoptsy sect sends shivers down the spine. The pace leaves one breathless.
There are, however, certain portions which have not aged well. The preoccupation of science fiction writers in the 1950's and 1960's with clowns and circuses lacks the same resonance in an age when the only well-known circus is pretentious and French-Canadian. Although the theme of corporate clans is remarkably relevant today, the use of actual company names in a work of fiction tarnishes the facade. The social attitudes are remarkably dated for the Western World, but at least Bester provides an in-story explanation.
When a book opens with a poem, it's never an accident, but often a thesis or an indication of the flavor of the narrative. Ignore it at your peril.
The Stars My Destination is an enjoyable read. It incorporates many of the motifs of cyberpunk without overwhelming the reader without singularity self-pleasuring. The sociological examination of the fallout from a revolutionary discovery (jaunting) is detailed and well thought out. The inversion of the usual direction of one-way telepathy is ingenious, and the neo-Skoptsy sect sends shivers down the spine. The pace leaves one breathless.
There are, however, certain portions which have not aged well. The preoccupation of science fiction writers in the 1950's and 1960's with clowns and circuses lacks the same resonance in an age when the only well-known circus is pretentious and French-Canadian. Although the theme of corporate clans is remarkably relevant today, the use of actual company names in a work of fiction tarnishes the facade. The social attitudes are remarkably dated for the Western World, but at least Bester provides an in-story explanation.
When a book opens with a poem, it's never an accident, but often a thesis or an indication of the flavor of the narrative. Ignore it at your peril.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
The Worlds of Jack Vanth
Yesterday, I did some back-of-the-napkin exercises (with the aid of Wikipedia) related to my Teylothia 'verse. When I created it, the Pluto-Charon system was (to quote a favorite series) "all alone in the night." This isolation required that I create a string of O'Neill stations at the Lagrange points. I named them thematically after Greek words beginning with "far." Now, however, this setup is no longer feasible (I'm not referring to the space station design, which was always a stylistic choice). If the Orcus-Vanth system were the only other system in the classic Kuiper Belt, I could have reduced the five stations to four and rested. There are, however, an abundance of minor planets which occupy what I once called "Pluto-orbit." The name "Hadean League," however can remain, since IAU naming rules still allow it to be appropriate. The minor planets under the (provisional) version of the Hadean League, in order of perihelion, are:
1. Pluto (29.65 AU)
2. Orcus (30.27 AU)
3. Makemake (38.509 AU)
4. Ixion (39.68 AU)
5. Varuna (40.494 AU)
6. Quaoar (41.69 AU)
7. Haumea (43.132 AU)
That makes seven worlds, rather than my original six. Sedna (76 AU) is too far out, even at perihelion. Eris is a toss-up. It is certainly within the sphere of the Hadean League at perihelion (37.77 AU), but at aphelion (97.56 AU) it is much farther out. Perhaps that is the key to Eridian conflict with the Hadean League. Scenario: the Eridians are proud of being big and different; the Plutonians are proud of being the first-discovered, but resentful of the demotion; the Orceans think the Plutonians are full of BS, and prefer to side with the Eridians; the Eridians, however, have almost as much contempt for the Orceans and the other Hadean League members as they do for Plutonians. The Quaoarites (Quaoarians) are stereotyped as prudish and judgmental, the Ixionidae are back-stabbing, ungrateful philanderers, the Varunans are good upright people, the Makemakeans are the most attractive, and Haumeans are short, fertile, intensely loyal people.
If the chronology of the Teylothia 'verse remains the same, Sedna is at about 160 AU, or a journey of over three decades by my original reckoning, in which Luna to Pluto is a five-year journey.
1. Pluto (29.65 AU)
2. Orcus (30.27 AU)
3. Makemake (38.509 AU)
4. Ixion (39.68 AU)
5. Varuna (40.494 AU)
6. Quaoar (41.69 AU)
7. Haumea (43.132 AU)
That makes seven worlds, rather than my original six. Sedna (76 AU) is too far out, even at perihelion. Eris is a toss-up. It is certainly within the sphere of the Hadean League at perihelion (37.77 AU), but at aphelion (97.56 AU) it is much farther out. Perhaps that is the key to Eridian conflict with the Hadean League. Scenario: the Eridians are proud of being big and different; the Plutonians are proud of being the first-discovered, but resentful of the demotion; the Orceans think the Plutonians are full of BS, and prefer to side with the Eridians; the Eridians, however, have almost as much contempt for the Orceans and the other Hadean League members as they do for Plutonians. The Quaoarites (Quaoarians) are stereotyped as prudish and judgmental, the Ixionidae are back-stabbing, ungrateful philanderers, the Varunans are good upright people, the Makemakeans are the most attractive, and Haumeans are short, fertile, intensely loyal people.
If the chronology of the Teylothia 'verse remains the same, Sedna is at about 160 AU, or a journey of over three decades by my original reckoning, in which Luna to Pluto is a five-year journey.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Which Way Which?
Now that I've finally reached the chapters in Judd that deal with more interesting grammar, I am much happier.
A monolingual English-speaker (aka "American") might not realize this, but the structure of the relative clause in English (who/whom/whose/which/what) is remarkably free. English allows nearly component of a clause to become the pivot on which the subordinate clause hinges. Other languages, such as Biblical Hebrew, have only one form; thus the English sentence "I saw the fish which the man caught" becomes "Saw I the fish which the man caught it." Biblical Hebrew's construction is fairly simply compared to the hoops some languages jump through: languages that have cases but insist that the relative particle be in one case (nominative or ergative, depending on the overall linguistic structure) can twist themselves into knots if the pivotal noun is not the actual subject of both sentences.
Hawaiian uses a relative particle, but is not a fan of relative clauses. In many domains, places where one could use a relative particle prefer a particle associated with the main clause. There are, however, three places where a relative particle is mandatory. The first case:
Na mea ana i ike ai. The things which he saw.
A rougher, but perhaps more illuminating, translation would be "The things of him (inalienable), past see which." The subject of the subordinate clause ("he") cannot stand its normal main clause position directly following the verb within the subordinate clause, since the relative particle ai is occupying that slot; nor can it take its normal main clause position in the main clause, since the noun phrase na mea occupies that position. A relative particle, however, is useless without a noun or pronoun to relate to, so the subject of the subordinate clause ("he") transforms and becomes an a-class genitive modifying the subject of the main clause. A-class genitives and possessives seem to be popular choices for grammatical transformations in Hawaiian.
The second case:
Eia ka mea i make ai na kanaka. Here is the cause from which the men died.
The rough translation would be "Here the cause (mea is a remarkably flexible word, meaning person, thing, or cause) past die which the men." Ai is used here because it replaces means, cause, or instrument. I am not entirely sure why ai precedes na kanaka - perhaps it is part of the verb complex, or perhaps the relative particle needs to be as close to its antecedent as possible.
The third case:
I ka la a makou i hiki mai ai. On the day when we came.
A rough translation would be "On the day when we (plural, exclusive) past come away-from-speaker which."The prepositional phrase i ka la has been fronted and its position occupied by ai. The conflation of time and place, when and where, is so common in language that I wonder if it is not a fundamentally human way of understanding the world. It is worth noting that the subject of the subordinate clause, makou, here precedes its verb, i hiki, even though the default order of the original sentence would be I hiki mai makou i ka la. A different word order in subordinate clauses from main clauses is quite common in the world's languages, but I am not certain why *I ka la a i hiki mai ai makou would be a challenge to a native Hawaiian speaker. It might mean something slightly different, or it might just be one of those things about a language that a tyro must learn.
If these three examples are typical (and I cannot imagine why one would use atypical examples in such a small sample in a teaching grammar), I would not be surprised if ai batted for the verbal team rather that the nominal one, insofar as any Hawaiian word has a firm verbal/nominal distinction; the possibility of replacing ai with the gerund-making particle ana supports this idea. If this were the case, then the three sentences have the following rough translations: "His things seen-which", "Here the cause died-which the men," and "On the day when we (but not you) came-away-from-speaker-which." Additionally, if ai were verbal in this way, it also seems to trigger a loss of valency, changing the verb from transitive to intransitive.
A monolingual English-speaker (aka "American") might not realize this, but the structure of the relative clause in English (who/whom/whose/which/what) is remarkably free. English allows nearly component of a clause to become the pivot on which the subordinate clause hinges. Other languages, such as Biblical Hebrew, have only one form; thus the English sentence "I saw the fish which the man caught" becomes "Saw I the fish which the man caught it." Biblical Hebrew's construction is fairly simply compared to the hoops some languages jump through: languages that have cases but insist that the relative particle be in one case (nominative or ergative, depending on the overall linguistic structure) can twist themselves into knots if the pivotal noun is not the actual subject of both sentences.
Hawaiian uses a relative particle, but is not a fan of relative clauses. In many domains, places where one could use a relative particle prefer a particle associated with the main clause. There are, however, three places where a relative particle is mandatory. The first case:
Na mea ana i ike ai. The things which he saw.
A rougher, but perhaps more illuminating, translation would be "The things of him (inalienable), past see which." The subject of the subordinate clause ("he") cannot stand its normal main clause position directly following the verb within the subordinate clause, since the relative particle ai is occupying that slot; nor can it take its normal main clause position in the main clause, since the noun phrase na mea occupies that position. A relative particle, however, is useless without a noun or pronoun to relate to, so the subject of the subordinate clause ("he") transforms and becomes an a-class genitive modifying the subject of the main clause. A-class genitives and possessives seem to be popular choices for grammatical transformations in Hawaiian.
The second case:
Eia ka mea i make ai na kanaka. Here is the cause from which the men died.
The rough translation would be "Here the cause (mea is a remarkably flexible word, meaning person, thing, or cause) past die which the men." Ai is used here because it replaces means, cause, or instrument. I am not entirely sure why ai precedes na kanaka - perhaps it is part of the verb complex, or perhaps the relative particle needs to be as close to its antecedent as possible.
The third case:
I ka la a makou i hiki mai ai. On the day when we came.
A rough translation would be "On the day when we (plural, exclusive) past come away-from-speaker which."The prepositional phrase i ka la has been fronted and its position occupied by ai. The conflation of time and place, when and where, is so common in language that I wonder if it is not a fundamentally human way of understanding the world. It is worth noting that the subject of the subordinate clause, makou, here precedes its verb, i hiki, even though the default order of the original sentence would be I hiki mai makou i ka la. A different word order in subordinate clauses from main clauses is quite common in the world's languages, but I am not certain why *I ka la a i hiki mai ai makou would be a challenge to a native Hawaiian speaker. It might mean something slightly different, or it might just be one of those things about a language that a tyro must learn.
If these three examples are typical (and I cannot imagine why one would use atypical examples in such a small sample in a teaching grammar), I would not be surprised if ai batted for the verbal team rather that the nominal one, insofar as any Hawaiian word has a firm verbal/nominal distinction; the possibility of replacing ai with the gerund-making particle ana supports this idea. If this were the case, then the three sentences have the following rough translations: "His things seen-which", "Here the cause died-which the men," and "On the day when we (but not you) came-away-from-speaker-which." Additionally, if ai were verbal in this way, it also seems to trigger a loss of valency, changing the verb from transitive to intransitive.
Friday, February 3, 2012
St James Art Show
This Saturday, I attended an art show at St James Episcopal for some very local artists. St James is a pretty little church in its own right, unlike the nuclear plant of St Mary's downtown. It has stained glass windows and dark wooden pews which evoke the comfort of a small traditional church rather than the grandness of Grace Cathedral or the large-university-class feel of some evangelical churches. The plethora of wooden furniture makes the church space more elegant, but also heavier to move. The liturgical space was transformed into a visual spectacle that would have made an Orthodox architect proud.
The three featured artists were Patrick Vennari, John Foster, and Pat Meyer, all of them congregants. Foster practiced the art of what he called keigo, the juxtaposition of image and text, which can include Japanese poetic forms. When I looked up the term, I only found information on Japanese honorifics, so perhaps this is a homophone or perhaps actually a Chinese or Korean term. In general I find it diffiult to correlate East Asian poetic forms and the English language.
Patrick Vennari presented a variety of paintings, including one of a restroom in the park. One would thinki that the restroom would not be a suitable object for painting, but a judiciouscombination of colors and the natural beauty of the park transformed the watercloset into a beautiful watercolor.
Several of the paintings were produced using a procss called giclee, which uses special printers and backing to make photographs seem like paintings. I am reading up on the process, but there is much about visual art that I do not understand. A lot of the giclee images were of local landscapes, and many of them made me yearn for the end of the rain so that I could take a walk out to Ocean Beach.
Pat Meyer makes collages. I don't know where the line is between fiddling and art, but she is on the side of art. I would compare her to Dave McKean, but I'm sure a "serious" artist would take the comparison as an insult. Unlike McKean, her art doesn't give nightmares.
The art show was a success. People mingled. Many paintings and collages sold and there was talk of inviting other artists to do another show. If any artists are interested, Vennari took a film of the show which soon will be on the Saint James website.
The three featured artists were Patrick Vennari, John Foster, and Pat Meyer, all of them congregants. Foster practiced the art of what he called keigo, the juxtaposition of image and text, which can include Japanese poetic forms. When I looked up the term, I only found information on Japanese honorifics, so perhaps this is a homophone or perhaps actually a Chinese or Korean term. In general I find it diffiult to correlate East Asian poetic forms and the English language.
Patrick Vennari presented a variety of paintings, including one of a restroom in the park. One would thinki that the restroom would not be a suitable object for painting, but a judiciouscombination of colors and the natural beauty of the park transformed the watercloset into a beautiful watercolor.
Several of the paintings were produced using a procss called giclee, which uses special printers and backing to make photographs seem like paintings. I am reading up on the process, but there is much about visual art that I do not understand. A lot of the giclee images were of local landscapes, and many of them made me yearn for the end of the rain so that I could take a walk out to Ocean Beach.
Pat Meyer makes collages. I don't know where the line is between fiddling and art, but she is on the side of art. I would compare her to Dave McKean, but I'm sure a "serious" artist would take the comparison as an insult. Unlike McKean, her art doesn't give nightmares.
The art show was a success. People mingled. Many paintings and collages sold and there was talk of inviting other artists to do another show. If any artists are interested, Vennari took a film of the show which soon will be on the Saint James website.
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