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.
Friday, February 24, 2012
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.
Monday, January 30, 2012
My Forgotten Universe
I was so happy about the success of my science fiction book club that I rented some more episodes of The Big Bang Theory. As I was watching, the Asimovian currents continued to percolate in my brain, along with a recurrent nagging born from a lecture I attended at the Commonwealth Club. Then I remembered I had written three stories in what is generally referred to the Teylothia Universe inside my head - I have several now, all structurally different, including the Haven Universe (one finished story, one fragment), the Semiramis Universe (two finished stories, several fragments), and the Fortunate Islands Universe (no stories per se, but instead one two-and-a-half-years post-by-post world-changing adventure on CONCULTURE). I went to one of my drawers and removed a translucent blue folder that contained my Branson Senior Project and related material in 1994. Three of the stories were in the TU, although the set was different from that which I remembered. Certainly, In His Own Land, set on the namesake O'Neill colony, was there (the colonies of the 'verse were based on '70s science fiction). The second story, X, set on the Teylothia's fellow Hadean (NB: in-universe term) colony of Telebios, was there also. The third story was not the twenty-page fragment (all political dialogue - perhaps I'd been reading Dune) set on Pluto, that I had thought. It was a post-by-post story, Third's the Charmer , written on VEBLEN, set on yet another Hadean colony (Telemachus), featuring an murder charge against a member of a yet another colony (Telephorus). Given the set up of the colony ring structure, that leaves me with two options for the last corner of the hexagon: another O'Neill colony with a name starting with Tele- or the dwarf planet system of Orcus and Vanth. I'm tempted to "complete the set" and leave Orcus-orbit for a different theme. It would be easy to expand the 'verse to include the new dwarf planets in a natural fashion, but I still have one colony space left in Pluto orbit before I need to expand.
So far I have only skimmed the stories. I need to re-read them for several reasons. I need to examine the style. Although I have a timeline for In His Own Land, I need to prepare a rough timeline/summary of events. It really is a 'verse, so the interactions are significant, and my original notes are long gone. I also need to brush up on the technological terms and "current" social structure of the 'verse - I haven't calculated it precisely, but a cursory glance at birth dates and vaguely expressed ages suggests that Third's the Charmer occurs almost a century after the events of In His Own Land.
There were two other stories in the packet, Cogito and Those Who Wait. Cogito is a hologram story (written before Voyager aired), and might fit well with one possible development of the Teylothia Universe. It would be a dark development, but then the whole 'verse seems to lean that way - so far there have been incidents of suicide, fanaticism, murder charges, and botched experiments, and mentions of vandalism, promiscuity, and potential political unrest. Enjisi, the protagonist (and I remember Mrs. Moore disputing the term) of Those Who Wait, are on a wholly different scale, and may a different 'verse altogether. She (Enjisi, not Mrs. Moore) may require a different tack.
So far I have only skimmed the stories. I need to re-read them for several reasons. I need to examine the style. Although I have a timeline for In His Own Land, I need to prepare a rough timeline/summary of events. It really is a 'verse, so the interactions are significant, and my original notes are long gone. I also need to brush up on the technological terms and "current" social structure of the 'verse - I haven't calculated it precisely, but a cursory glance at birth dates and vaguely expressed ages suggests that Third's the Charmer occurs almost a century after the events of In His Own Land.
There were two other stories in the packet, Cogito and Those Who Wait. Cogito is a hologram story (written before Voyager aired), and might fit well with one possible development of the Teylothia Universe. It would be a dark development, but then the whole 'verse seems to lean that way - so far there have been incidents of suicide, fanaticism, murder charges, and botched experiments, and mentions of vandalism, promiscuity, and potential political unrest. Enjisi, the protagonist (and I remember Mrs. Moore disputing the term) of Those Who Wait, are on a wholly different scale, and may a different 'verse altogether. She (Enjisi, not Mrs. Moore) may require a different tack.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Calvinist Confession
I relented and read the latest Robot book authorized by the Asimov estate - although its presence on the Mechanics Institute Library new acquistions shelf might have been a factor. I, Robot: to protect is the first in a trilogy featuring Susan Calvin. This volume's author is Mickey Zucker Reichert (I do not know if the plan is similar to the Foundation series additions, in which each volume had a separate author). Prequels in particular activate my skepticism gland, since predetermination can sap the suspense from a story, or even worse, make additions that violate the ethos of the pre-existing corpus (I'm looking at you, midi-chlorians!).
In this case, however, the plot and background feel like a much-needed updating of Asimovian history of robotics - he admitted and rued many of the errors in conception that he made before the invention of the computer field. The reset of the timeline does not bother me - there is a little-known timeline in Let's Buy Jupiter and Other Stories, an admittedly pale imitation of Heinlein's Future History, which featured a Solar System-centricity and the presence of numerous alien species, and is thus fundamentally incompatible with the Robot-Empire-Foundation universe established later. Compared to that contrast, the change of chronology in I, Robot: to protect is a soft reset, even if it demolishes my favorite conceit that Susan Calvin (b. 1984) is in my same age set and intellectual impi. The temporal reset unfortunately will not discourage some fans from trying to shoehorn the new timeline into the Robot-Empire-Foundation series. I, on the other hand, regard it as a new timeline.
I do not reach these conclusion on Calvin's birthdate alone. The modus operandi of to protect seems to be incorporate and tighten the various strands of the original stories as much as possible, as reboots of a franchise often do. Susan lives with her father, John Calvin (an Asimovian joke indeed), a roboticist at U.S. Robots and Mechanical Men, who bears a resemblance in his eating habits to Stephen Byerley. Susan already possesses the waspish tongue that was one of her first character traits. She is, of course, plain, but no so much that all men overlook her. The Society for Humanity is present and performing its dramatic function as an all-purpose extreme protest group. The original profession of Susan is psychologist, which is a logical ex post facto extrapolation, but the hospital in which she works contains several threads from the short stories. The nanobots (did Asimov coin that term too?) are deployed differently than poor Mike the nanobot, and Nate the hospital robot seems to fulfill the role of romantic rival and enabler of Susan's (as yet) mild robophilia, more Herbie than Lenny. Even Susan's interest in the oppositie sex has precedent in the short stories, although there it remained unrequited.
Most of the action in to protect establishes Susan's intelligence and personality, and creates a mystery of nanorobot and human interaction for following volumes. Reichardt, thankfully, writes dialogues that is a little less flat than Asimov - in short stories, Asimov's prose works well, but it becomes tedious in longer works (such as Robots and Empire). In short, it accomplishes the fundamental tasks of the intial volume of a trilogy: establish the main character, the main conflict or mystery, and entice the reader to return.
In this case, however, the plot and background feel like a much-needed updating of Asimovian history of robotics - he admitted and rued many of the errors in conception that he made before the invention of the computer field. The reset of the timeline does not bother me - there is a little-known timeline in Let's Buy Jupiter and Other Stories, an admittedly pale imitation of Heinlein's Future History, which featured a Solar System-centricity and the presence of numerous alien species, and is thus fundamentally incompatible with the Robot-Empire-Foundation universe established later. Compared to that contrast, the change of chronology in I, Robot: to protect is a soft reset, even if it demolishes my favorite conceit that Susan Calvin (b. 1984) is in my same age set and intellectual impi. The temporal reset unfortunately will not discourage some fans from trying to shoehorn the new timeline into the Robot-Empire-Foundation series. I, on the other hand, regard it as a new timeline.
I do not reach these conclusion on Calvin's birthdate alone. The modus operandi of to protect seems to be incorporate and tighten the various strands of the original stories as much as possible, as reboots of a franchise often do. Susan lives with her father, John Calvin (an Asimovian joke indeed), a roboticist at U.S. Robots and Mechanical Men, who bears a resemblance in his eating habits to Stephen Byerley. Susan already possesses the waspish tongue that was one of her first character traits. She is, of course, plain, but no so much that all men overlook her. The Society for Humanity is present and performing its dramatic function as an all-purpose extreme protest group. The original profession of Susan is psychologist, which is a logical ex post facto extrapolation, but the hospital in which she works contains several threads from the short stories. The nanobots (did Asimov coin that term too?) are deployed differently than poor Mike the nanobot, and Nate the hospital robot seems to fulfill the role of romantic rival and enabler of Susan's (as yet) mild robophilia, more Herbie than Lenny. Even Susan's interest in the oppositie sex has precedent in the short stories, although there it remained unrequited.
Most of the action in to protect establishes Susan's intelligence and personality, and creates a mystery of nanorobot and human interaction for following volumes. Reichardt, thankfully, writes dialogues that is a little less flat than Asimov - in short stories, Asimov's prose works well, but it becomes tedious in longer works (such as Robots and Empire). In short, it accomplishes the fundamental tasks of the intial volume of a trilogy: establish the main character, the main conflict or mystery, and entice the reader to return.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Hawaiian Grammar Review, Part 2
Judd's
pseudo-Latin approach leads him to construct a table pronominal
declensions. This table is limited to the singular; at this point I
can only speculate that the duals and plurals do not have “cases.”
Judd might have said that the dual and plural forms in all “cases”
are identical, congruent with the nineteenth century belief that
English was a marginal case language because the pronouns distinguish
subject, object, and possessive.
| First Singular | Second Singular | Third Singular | |
| Nominative | owau au |
oe | oia ia |
| Genitive | a'u o'u |
au ou |
ana ona |
| Possessive | ka'u ko'u kuu |
kau kou |
kana kona |
| Dative | na'u no'u |
nau nou |
nana nona |
| Accusative | ia'u io'u nei/la |
ia oe i ou nei/la |
ia ia i ona la |
| Ablative 1 (Agent/Means) | ma o'u nei/la | ma ou nei/la | ma ona nei/la |
| Ablative 2
(Separation) |
mai o'u aku/mai | mai ou aku/mai | mai ona aku/mai |
| Ablative 3 (Accompaniment) | me au | me oe | me ia |
| Ablative 4 (Agent with Passive Verb) |
e au | e oe | e ia |
The
Genitive, Possessive, Dative, and Accusative cases are conflations of
the simple prepositions a/o,
ka/ko,
and na/no
with a following pronoun, with the exception of the 'affectionate'
possessive first singular form kuu.
The alienable/inalienable distinction percolates through these forms.
The separation of Genitive and Possessive is a marginal but
understandable feature of Indo-European languages (my/mine,
vester/vestri/vobis).
The surprising feature is the four types of ablative, since the first
two types are merely a simple preposition plus an alienable Genitive,
and the last two are a simple preposition plus the nominative form
(nei and
la, aku
and mai
are particles called directionals, and are not limited to these
pronominal structures).
Prepositions, in all languages have both simple and compound forms. The compound forms in Hawaiian have this structure: ma/i- + a grammaticalized noun + o (the alienable genitive). This structure is, in essence, no difference from the English compound preposition because of, which is derived transparently from the phrase be the cause of. The diminution of the locative forms from three to two is not surprising, since the Ablative (mai) is always the first to be sacrificed on the altar of Simplicity. The usual choice of o rather than a as the connecting preposition is logical; if an object (e.g., a spearhead) that is inside you must be specified to be inside you, it is probably not an inherent part of your body! If it is an inherent part of your body, you could just use a possessive. Thus, Ke ike nei au i ka pahi maloko o ka maka a ke kanaka, "I see the knife in the eye of the man," in which the knife does not belong in the eye, but the eye is an intrinsic part of the man.
The article in Hawaiian has two allophones (variants), ka and ke. The determination of which one to use differs in Judd from modern sources, but that could be the result of local variation; the differences have never caused me any problems in identifying the article. I have laid out Judd's distribution below, in which # indicates the beginning of the noun, and C indicates that a noun begins with a consonant (except k or p), which receive their own entries. Most entries in the first column use only one form, although three use both, either for euphony or semantic distinction.
| Ka | Ke | |
| #a | x | x |
| #e | x | |
| #i | x | |
| #o | x | x |
| #u | x | |
| #C | x | |
| #k | x | |
| #p | x | x |
Hawaiian articles come in three flavors: definite (the), semi-definite (a certain, some), and indefinite (a).These articles have only two grammatical numbers, singular and plural. Do you notice that something is missing? In languages with dual number (such as Greek and Hebrew), the dual is often absent outside of the pronominal system and the plural provides for singular and dual. The definite singular articles, ka and ke, you have already met. The definite plural is na, which occurs the name Na Pali, the Cliffs, a particularly scenic royal preserve on Kaua'i.
The semi-definite plurals are kekahi, kahi, hookahi, and wahi. All of these forms are based on the increasing compound of wahi. One of the compound prepositions is kahi, "there where," a conflation of ka wahi. kekahi prefixes the definite article, while hookahi adds a primarily verbal prefix.
The indefinite singular article is he; there are four different indefinite plural articles, the distinctions of which Judd does not describe, consistent with his purpose of instilling basic comprehension of the language. They must have different connotations, however, because the example sentences use a variety, both alone and in combination.
The semi-definite plurals are kekahi, kahi, hookahi, and wahi. All of these forms are based on the increasing compound of wahi. One of the compound prepositions is kahi, "there where," a conflation of ka wahi. kekahi prefixes the definite article, while hookahi adds a primarily verbal prefix.
The indefinite singular article is he; there are four different indefinite plural articles, the distinctions of which Judd does not describe, consistent with his purpose of instilling basic comprehension of the language. They must have different connotations, however, because the example sentences use a variety, both alone and in combination.
| Singular | Plural | |
| Definite | ka ke |
na |
| Semi-Definite | kekahi kahi hookahi wahi |
|
| Indefinite | he | mau poe pae puu |
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Hawaiian Grammar Review, Part 1
In anticipation of my upcoming trip to Hawaii, I powered through the chapters of Judd's Hawaiian Grammar up to the point where I stopped last time. If I were planning to speak Hawaiian, I would not have done so and would have switched to some modern online course; my interest, however, is more grammatical and historical, and in the historical records the macron is manqué and the 'okina is optional. Judd will serve my purpose well.
Here is what I have done: I have summarized the grammatical information of the first fourteen lessons in sensible chunks.
First, the pronouns. There are three grammatical numbers (singular, dual, plural), three grammatical persons (first, second, third), and two degrees of clusivity (inclusive, exclusive). I have concocted some tricks to remember the pronominal distinctions. The plurals all end in -kou; the duals except olua (2nd person dual) end in -aua. What about clusivity? An inclusive first person pronoun includes the addressee, whereas an exclusive one excludes the addressee. The easiest way to remember the difference in Hawaiian is that the exclusive pronouns begin with m- for 'me', since the function of the exclusive pronoun is to remind the addressee that he is not part of this 'we'.
Secondly, the verbal structure so far. The pseudo-Latin analysis rings false, but I wonder how much of that analysis was born of ignorance, and how much of convenience. The indicative present is formed by ke V nei N, where V is the verb and N is a noun or pronoun; thus ke hana nei au means "I work" The indicative past is formed by i V N: i hana au, "I worked." The indicative perfect is formed by ua V N: ua hana au, "I have worked". The indicative pluperfect tense is formed by ua V e N: ua hana e au, "I had worked." The indicative future tense is formed by e V au: e hana au, "I will work."
Thirdly, the prepositions. Given the Verb-Subject-Object structure of Hawaiian, prepositions are expected. There is a three-way distinction in the locative prepositions: mai, "from", ma, "at", and i, "towards." The preposition i also functions as a direct object marker. me means both "with" and "and". e is the preposition used for the agent of a passive verb (I suspect that this is a misreading of ergativity, but I have chosen my sourcebook). The remaining prepositions, a/o, ka/ko, and na/no, have alternating forms depending on alienability. a indicates inalienability, o alienability; thus kana papale means "her hat (made by her)", an origin which cannot be changed, but kona papale means "her hat (purchased by her)", a condition which could change if she decided to sell the hat or give it to her friend as a present.
The substantial 'declension' table for singular pronouns, compound prepositions, and the difficulties of articular allophony are subjects for Part 2 of this review.
Here is what I have done: I have summarized the grammatical information of the first fourteen lessons in sensible chunks.
First, the pronouns. There are three grammatical numbers (singular, dual, plural), three grammatical persons (first, second, third), and two degrees of clusivity (inclusive, exclusive). I have concocted some tricks to remember the pronominal distinctions. The plurals all end in -kou; the duals except olua (2nd person dual) end in -aua. What about clusivity? An inclusive first person pronoun includes the addressee, whereas an exclusive one excludes the addressee. The easiest way to remember the difference in Hawaiian is that the exclusive pronouns begin with m- for 'me', since the function of the exclusive pronoun is to remind the addressee that he is not part of this 'we'.
Secondly, the verbal structure so far. The pseudo-Latin analysis rings false, but I wonder how much of that analysis was born of ignorance, and how much of convenience. The indicative present is formed by ke V nei N, where V is the verb and N is a noun or pronoun; thus ke hana nei au means "I work" The indicative past is formed by i V N: i hana au, "I worked." The indicative perfect is formed by ua V N: ua hana au, "I have worked". The indicative pluperfect tense is formed by ua V e N: ua hana e au, "I had worked." The indicative future tense is formed by e V au: e hana au, "I will work."
Thirdly, the prepositions. Given the Verb-Subject-Object structure of Hawaiian, prepositions are expected. There is a three-way distinction in the locative prepositions: mai, "from", ma, "at", and i, "towards." The preposition i also functions as a direct object marker. me means both "with" and "and". e is the preposition used for the agent of a passive verb (I suspect that this is a misreading of ergativity, but I have chosen my sourcebook). The remaining prepositions, a/o, ka/ko, and na/no, have alternating forms depending on alienability. a indicates inalienability, o alienability; thus kana papale means "her hat (made by her)", an origin which cannot be changed, but kona papale means "her hat (purchased by her)", a condition which could change if she decided to sell the hat or give it to her friend as a present.
The substantial 'declension' table for singular pronouns, compound prepositions, and the difficulties of articular allophony are subjects for Part 2 of this review.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Calvinist Psychology
I have been rereading The Rest of the Robots (a combination of I, Robot and Robot Visions), the authoritative volume of Asimov's robot stories with which I fell in love as a young nerd - I did choose I, Robot for my own book club, after all. I ignore the robot-themed boos not written by Asimov rather than angrily reject them, as so many fans do and thus set back the reputations of science fiction fans everywhere. I also recently read Science Fiction: What It's All About by Sam J. Lundwall, which I bought in early December from a peddlar in the Mission. While it was interesting to read about works which I consider classics described as new and exciting works, its primary contribution to this post is its characterization of golden age science fiction and golden age science fiction fans. I have read many criticisms of Asimov, some undeserved, including his inability to write women. I do not dispute the truth of this assertion, but he did write around his deficiencies. I could not avoid thinking about this while reading The Rest of Robots, in which Susan Calvin features prominently. When I was a boy, I read the stories as straightforward problem narratives, but this rereading revealed a different angle. Asimov's Calvin is not so much a portrayal of a woman as the portrayal of a computer geek (something of which Asimov could have had no knowledge). Calvin resembled no female nerd I've ever met, but her obsession with technology and her disdain for lesser human beings (in her case, the entire human race) matches the profile the more obnoxious hyperintelligent male nerds I have met. Calvin is the Other, not the Lady.
Since I composed the preceding paragraph, I have learned about a new authorized trilogy featuring Susan Calvin. Ordinarily, I refuse to read books not written by the original demiurge - I made an exception for the later Dune books because Brian Herbert had been his father's co-conspirator in designing the Dune universe. The post-mortem Foundation books interested me not at all, and the off-planet Robot books were not interesting because I already ranked books such as Robots of Dawn and Robots and Empire low on my Asimov list. I like the simplicity of the robot stories. This new trilogy (of which only the first, I, Robot: To Protect, is out) is tempting, since Calvin is the only remotely fleshed-out character in the Asimovian canon. The other reason, which may well be dashed is this: I want to see how Calvin becomes who she is in the classic canon, just as I had high hopes for Episodes I-III.
Since I composed the preceding paragraph, I have learned about a new authorized trilogy featuring Susan Calvin. Ordinarily, I refuse to read books not written by the original demiurge - I made an exception for the later Dune books because Brian Herbert had been his father's co-conspirator in designing the Dune universe. The post-mortem Foundation books interested me not at all, and the off-planet Robot books were not interesting because I already ranked books such as Robots of Dawn and Robots and Empire low on my Asimov list. I like the simplicity of the robot stories. This new trilogy (of which only the first, I, Robot: To Protect, is out) is tempting, since Calvin is the only remotely fleshed-out character in the Asimovian canon. The other reason, which may well be dashed is this: I want to see how Calvin becomes who she is in the classic canon, just as I had high hopes for Episodes I-III.
ROILAing in the Grave
Originally written 1/9/12
So I bought a copy of Learn ROILA. ROILA stands for Robot Interaction Language, a strange marriage between the goals of Lojban and the syntax of Toki Pona, which is intended as a means of communication between robots and humans. It is allegedly simple enough for humans to learn and clear enough for robots to understand. Since I do not own a robot, I cannot speak about the mechanical end. Thus my comments will be limited to the human side.
The vocabulary generation is atypical of a constructed language, the opposite of the oligosynthetic end of the conlang scale. The method of vocabulary generation ensures maximal distinction of words, but results in atypically long function words and semantic and phonological disconnections.
The vocalic phonology is a little odd. The choice of a five-vowel system is not extraordinary, but the specific pronunciations of the vowels (and this is not a language that favors allophony!) are not as spread out as a 'normal' vowel set. A human can manage it perfectly well, but the distribution is maximized for robotic visual perception. An examination of the consonantal phonology bears this out, since the inventory is heavily weighted towards the labial/labiodental column, which is the most visible point of articulation.
The use of 'tuji' as a plural marker, intensifier, and 'many' suprised me. One of the things I do not like about Toki Pona is the polysemy of the word 'mute' (many) for these meanings. In the case of Toki Pona, the paucity of the vocabulary excuses this polysemy, but one would expect greater clarity from a language designed for machines that need precise instructions.
What especially shocked me was the near-homophony of the markers for past and present tense. 'Pito make jifi lakowo' means 'I saw the cat', and 'Pito make jifo lakowo' means 'I will see the cat.' 'Pito make lakowo', without any tense marker, means 'I see the cat'. Given that one of the frequently mentioned faults of Esperanto is the similarity of the past, present, and future markers on the verbs. This is not only a problem for the eterna komencanto, but for fluent Esperantists; otherwise, why would fluent Esperantists abbreviate the past/present/future forms estis/estas/estos , with accent on the e, to stis/stas/stos, with accent on the i? I am sure this critique arose during the creation of ROILA, and that the creators have good reason for not removing it.
So I bought a copy of Learn ROILA. ROILA stands for Robot Interaction Language, a strange marriage between the goals of Lojban and the syntax of Toki Pona, which is intended as a means of communication between robots and humans. It is allegedly simple enough for humans to learn and clear enough for robots to understand. Since I do not own a robot, I cannot speak about the mechanical end. Thus my comments will be limited to the human side.
The vocabulary generation is atypical of a constructed language, the opposite of the oligosynthetic end of the conlang scale. The method of vocabulary generation ensures maximal distinction of words, but results in atypically long function words and semantic and phonological disconnections.
The vocalic phonology is a little odd. The choice of a five-vowel system is not extraordinary, but the specific pronunciations of the vowels (and this is not a language that favors allophony!) are not as spread out as a 'normal' vowel set. A human can manage it perfectly well, but the distribution is maximized for robotic visual perception. An examination of the consonantal phonology bears this out, since the inventory is heavily weighted towards the labial/labiodental column, which is the most visible point of articulation.
The use of 'tuji' as a plural marker, intensifier, and 'many' suprised me. One of the things I do not like about Toki Pona is the polysemy of the word 'mute' (many) for these meanings. In the case of Toki Pona, the paucity of the vocabulary excuses this polysemy, but one would expect greater clarity from a language designed for machines that need precise instructions.
What especially shocked me was the near-homophony of the markers for past and present tense. 'Pito make jifi lakowo' means 'I saw the cat', and 'Pito make jifo lakowo' means 'I will see the cat.' 'Pito make lakowo', without any tense marker, means 'I see the cat'. Given that one of the frequently mentioned faults of Esperanto is the similarity of the past, present, and future markers on the verbs. This is not only a problem for the eterna komencanto, but for fluent Esperantists; otherwise, why would fluent Esperantists abbreviate the past/present/future forms estis/estas/estos , with accent on the e, to stis/stas/stos, with accent on the i? I am sure this critique arose during the creation of ROILA, and that the creators have good reason for not removing it.
Monday, January 2, 2012
The Kim Is Dead! Long Live the Kim!
With the passing of Kim Jong-Il, his son Kim Jong-Un is now the leader of North Korea. His uncle-in-law Chang Sung-taek seems to be a guiding light to the young Kim. (Korean names are a wonderful illustration of the effect of generations of surnames, but at the same time often inconvenient to Western clarity). Kim Jong-Il invested his power in the military, especially after the famine of the '80's, and the military will determine the survival of the Kim Jong-Un regime. It is noticeable that even in a land that started as a socialist state and touts women soldiers, a distaff member of the royal family is not considered worthy of the throne. Caesar and the Praetorian guard are now locked in a holding pattern. The only good I can imagine arising from the stalemate of the elite while the peasants starve is that, when the country opens decades from now, the world will understand what a true scavenging society looks like and prepare for a global future of desperation.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Water, Water Everywhere and Not A Drop To Drink
I rarely read the New York Time, but on the last day of 2011 something drove me to glance to the right upon entering the coffee shop across the street. On the lower right corner, there was an article on fracking in South Aftica. Fracking, or hydraulic fracturing, is the process of using lubrication and pressure to reach previously unreachable oil reserves. If the process is artificially stimulated, there is a risk of permanently contaminating the water supply and sterilizing the land. (I shall resist the temptation to use sexual metaphors to describe the process). The region of South Africa in which American multimationals wish to engage in this practice is the Karoo Desert, the very name of which ('thirsty land') indicates the scarcity of water. The quoted opponent of the fracking, Chris Hayward, is from Beaufort West, and only recently had to slaughter 600 of his 2000 sheep for lack of water. Although I do take an occasional interest in South Africa, the explicit naming of a South African ordinarily would not elicit such a response, much less a blog post. The only son of a South African sheep farmer in the Karoo I have ever met, however, is named Stuart Hayward, a contributor to the South African-themed blog Southernwrite.
How did I meet a shepherd's son? It was a winter, quite a while ago, up in the Sierra Nevada mountains, which this year also lacked the requisite amount of winter water. We were on our way to a ski resort, and all along the road there were young employees from the other hemisphere seeking a ride to work. The long-standing dispute of the wisdom of picking up hitchikers was not an issue, and the young man came into our car. Thus began an association that continues to this day.
Now we ought to return to the Karoo and its dry environs. Water, especially fresh water, is limited throughout the world, as is oil. Human beings, however, cannot drink oil. Although this time the ones who will suffer in Africa are white rather than black, it is the American companies who stand to profit and the locals who stand to suffer. This is the human condition: even the quarrel of Agamemnon and Achilles brought suffering and death to the ordinary soldiers. Another unfortunate psychological flaw of humanity is the sacrifice of long-term prosperity in exchange for short-term gain. The most egregious example I have seen lately (taken from the same article) is Indonesia's willingness to drill into an active mud volcano where the last attempt displaced 30,000 people. I do not know where the march of the thirty thousand went after their villages were destroyed, but surely it exacerbated some other domestic issue.
The combination of too many people and too few renewable resources will lead within the next fifty years to resource wars. Since the human race seems reluctant to decrease its numbers in a peaceful manner, we will need all the resources we can preserve. Corporate greed, particularly the unsustainable model of eternal capitalism, threatens the long-term survival of many of our species by poisoning the environment, but that's a post for another day
How did I meet a shepherd's son? It was a winter, quite a while ago, up in the Sierra Nevada mountains, which this year also lacked the requisite amount of winter water. We were on our way to a ski resort, and all along the road there were young employees from the other hemisphere seeking a ride to work. The long-standing dispute of the wisdom of picking up hitchikers was not an issue, and the young man came into our car. Thus began an association that continues to this day.
Now we ought to return to the Karoo and its dry environs. Water, especially fresh water, is limited throughout the world, as is oil. Human beings, however, cannot drink oil. Although this time the ones who will suffer in Africa are white rather than black, it is the American companies who stand to profit and the locals who stand to suffer. This is the human condition: even the quarrel of Agamemnon and Achilles brought suffering and death to the ordinary soldiers. Another unfortunate psychological flaw of humanity is the sacrifice of long-term prosperity in exchange for short-term gain. The most egregious example I have seen lately (taken from the same article) is Indonesia's willingness to drill into an active mud volcano where the last attempt displaced 30,000 people. I do not know where the march of the thirty thousand went after their villages were destroyed, but surely it exacerbated some other domestic issue.
The combination of too many people and too few renewable resources will lead within the next fifty years to resource wars. Since the human race seems reluctant to decrease its numbers in a peaceful manner, we will need all the resources we can preserve. Corporate greed, particularly the unsustainable model of eternal capitalism, threatens the long-term survival of many of our species by poisoning the environment, but that's a post for another day
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Flashlight Hike 2011
No photos this time. I was in a dark corner supervising the carries group, and then it was too dark. We followed the customary route above Rodeo Lagoon, near which some of the participants had gone to environmental awareness camp. One of my earliest maps was drawn at that camp for my journal entries of that year. I believe I also said something uncomplimentary about Jonathan Vordermark and criticized the camp's treatment of the flag. We went up the hill to the bunker and split into a round robin of five groups to complete various requirements. As I said, I was supervising the carries group. The test was a race, which would have been much more hazardous if the giant gun emplacement pit had not been filled. We continued up the hill and up the stairs. I was a bit worried when we were passing the collapsed wooden ruins on the top of the head, since some of the younger kids were itching to descend into the splintery abyss. Several of the turns were not clearly marked, but we did not lose anybody. We ascended to Hill 88 and supped there. The Urban Astronomer, who was with us, provided guidance to navigating the stars, although the moon was bright. We headed down from the summit of Hill 88 and walked along the backside of the ridge.
At the crossroads, where a wrong choice would lead to the Long March of that infamous year, the Urban Astronomer provided more guidance on celestial gazing, but fell short on myth. Cepheus was the king of Ethiopia, and Cassiopeia was his queen, and Andromeda was his daughter. Cassiopeia bragged that Andromeda was more beautiful than the gods. This boast angered the gods and Poseidon demanded that Andromeda be chained to a cliff and consumed by a sea monster. Andromeda did not die, because Perseus (not Pegasus) rescued her. Upon reflection, the confusion might have arisen because Perseus did have the sandals of Hermes, which had wings and allowed him to fly, thus fulfilling the same role as Pegasus. Such errors do makes me wonder whether I should start a mythology blog.
We descended from the decision of Hercules into the always-chilly hollow and out towards the road. We were behind schedule, but I was less discombobulated than some of the impatient teenagers. We walked along the north side of Rodeo Lagoon, and I recalled the swampy path on the south side and the crossing of the bar. We reached the parking lot, consumed doughnuts and hot chocolates, and the Urban Astronomer allowed the boys to look through his telescope at the Galilean moons.
At the crossroads, where a wrong choice would lead to the Long March of that infamous year, the Urban Astronomer provided more guidance on celestial gazing, but fell short on myth. Cepheus was the king of Ethiopia, and Cassiopeia was his queen, and Andromeda was his daughter. Cassiopeia bragged that Andromeda was more beautiful than the gods. This boast angered the gods and Poseidon demanded that Andromeda be chained to a cliff and consumed by a sea monster. Andromeda did not die, because Perseus (not Pegasus) rescued her. Upon reflection, the confusion might have arisen because Perseus did have the sandals of Hermes, which had wings and allowed him to fly, thus fulfilling the same role as Pegasus. Such errors do makes me wonder whether I should start a mythology blog.
We descended from the decision of Hercules into the always-chilly hollow and out towards the road. We were behind schedule, but I was less discombobulated than some of the impatient teenagers. We walked along the north side of Rodeo Lagoon, and I recalled the swampy path on the south side and the crossing of the bar. We reached the parking lot, consumed doughnuts and hot chocolates, and the Urban Astronomer allowed the boys to look through his telescope at the Galilean moons.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Parish Retreat 2011
On the first weekend of November, I went on the St James parish retreat. I rode up after work with Petrina and Roger, so I missed the cocktail hour (it was an Episcopal retreat, after all). As we came up the driveway to the Bishop's Ranch, a strong unidentified smell overwhelmed me, Finally, I realized that the smell was manure – I'd not visited the proper countryside for so long I'd forgotten the smell! There were four groups at the Ranch this weekend – our group from St James, one from St Ambrose, a group called Women of Wonder, and an AmeriCorp group stationed at the Ranch for six weeks. Although we'd missed cocktail hour, we hadn't missed Compline. For those unfamiliar with the term, Compline is a Christian evening service, the last of the day, in which one reflects and winds down.
The morning was cold and misty, unlike many I remember from BREAD (at least the misty part – I've been at the Ranch when it's cold.). After an organic breakfast, there was a plenary session led by Anna Eng, whom I had met before, on the Art of the Relational Meeting – the sort that leads to progress towards a goal and that is sorely lacking in the contemporary political sphere. Eng's use of the term “agitation” for “stirring of the imagination” seemed a little strange, just as the term “enable” in the EDGE method acronym reminds me of Alcoholics Anonymous. The blacksmithing workshop had filled up well before, so I went on a hike with Ullrich the jovial German and several others. Since we were out in the field when we decided to take an extended hike, and the map was hardly to scale, there was some debate where we were. We took Treehouse Hill Loop to Turtle Creek Lane, and up the dirt road towards the lake (which I have yet to reach). We crossed Turtle Creek, but had to stop at the second ridge because there was a dead sow on a truck. Apparently the sow had been tearing up the grounds of the Ranch and the management had called the pig hunters from Swine Country (company name) to eliminate her. So we chatted a while, and I took some pictures for the Scouts. It had begun to rain, and we couldn't have reached Lower Lake and returned in time for lunch, so we headed back to the refectory. We passed the gate to the Russell Ranch, went past the Peace Pole (what a bizarre structure) and back to the refectory.
After lunch, during which I bought a book by an Episcopal female priest on Marian devotionals (the book itself is difficult to describe, especially since I have not started to read it properly), I chatted with a fellow parishioner. Our philosophies differed dramatically, as you might expect from a dedicated Scout leader and a conscientious objector. It reminded me a little of the Hard-Travelling Heroes, except that I'm inclined to side with Hal than Ollie. Later, I went to the Ranch House. I found Carole Jan Lee's book of show tunes on the open piano. I couldn't resist. After a few false starts, I chose a song and began to teach myself how to play “I don't know how to love him” from “Jesus Christ Superstar”. The song resonated with me, but I'm scarcely the first to empathize with the Magdalene. Even later, I played Bananagrams (R) with some other parishioners, but the faults of Scrabble (R) which the former game aims to correct seem to me the strengths of the latter.
After dinner, the main event was square dancing: square dancing is an excellent activity for a church retreat – it's family-friendly, but still allows every level of public behavior up to flirting. The man and women of each couple were of compatible height, but the very family-friendliness of square dancing made a right-and-left grand with six adults and two short children. The caller explained the origin of the periodic stomp: although stomping is extremely satisfying, its original intent was to remove the manure from your boot. After we had covered the basics, the caller taught the grand square. I was dragged (not wholly unwillingly) into the grand square with a woman I'll call Blonde, Busty, and Beaming for lack of an actual name. A grand square is quite complicated, and probably becomes more difficult with sufficient imbibing, but BBB and I managed our part well. Other couples were significantly more confused. H., one of our St James parishioners, injured herself during the Cotton-Eyed Joe that followed the square dancing and preceded the evening's closing waltz.
Father David led Saturday Compline, using a poorly mimeographed sheet from the infamous New Zealand Prayer Book. The New Zealand Prayer Book can be disorienting, since it incorporates Maori traditional oratory, which differs greatly from English rhetoric. The New Zealand Our Father is called a translation, but expands to much for me to call it such. It is an exegesis, and one which I would like to examine further before endorsing it.
After Compline, several parishioners retired to the ranch house living room to play the game Celebrities. I had never played this game before. It was something like a cross between Charades and Musical Chairs. The game mechanics were fine, but a combination of the age divide among the players and a paucity of contributors to the pot threw the match.
On Sunday, we attended a more conventional service in the chapel. Every time I have gone to the Bishop's Ranch, I have forgotten that it is a functioning parish church and has its own congregation. I kicked a ball around with one of the kids. Then it was time to go home to the city with Ryszard and Elia.
The morning was cold and misty, unlike many I remember from BREAD (at least the misty part – I've been at the Ranch when it's cold.). After an organic breakfast, there was a plenary session led by Anna Eng, whom I had met before, on the Art of the Relational Meeting – the sort that leads to progress towards a goal and that is sorely lacking in the contemporary political sphere. Eng's use of the term “agitation” for “stirring of the imagination” seemed a little strange, just as the term “enable” in the EDGE method acronym reminds me of Alcoholics Anonymous. The blacksmithing workshop had filled up well before, so I went on a hike with Ullrich the jovial German and several others. Since we were out in the field when we decided to take an extended hike, and the map was hardly to scale, there was some debate where we were. We took Treehouse Hill Loop to Turtle Creek Lane, and up the dirt road towards the lake (which I have yet to reach). We crossed Turtle Creek, but had to stop at the second ridge because there was a dead sow on a truck. Apparently the sow had been tearing up the grounds of the Ranch and the management had called the pig hunters from Swine Country (company name) to eliminate her. So we chatted a while, and I took some pictures for the Scouts. It had begun to rain, and we couldn't have reached Lower Lake and returned in time for lunch, so we headed back to the refectory. We passed the gate to the Russell Ranch, went past the Peace Pole (what a bizarre structure) and back to the refectory.
After lunch, during which I bought a book by an Episcopal female priest on Marian devotionals (the book itself is difficult to describe, especially since I have not started to read it properly), I chatted with a fellow parishioner. Our philosophies differed dramatically, as you might expect from a dedicated Scout leader and a conscientious objector. It reminded me a little of the Hard-Travelling Heroes, except that I'm inclined to side with Hal than Ollie. Later, I went to the Ranch House. I found Carole Jan Lee's book of show tunes on the open piano. I couldn't resist. After a few false starts, I chose a song and began to teach myself how to play “I don't know how to love him” from “Jesus Christ Superstar”. The song resonated with me, but I'm scarcely the first to empathize with the Magdalene. Even later, I played Bananagrams (R) with some other parishioners, but the faults of Scrabble (R) which the former game aims to correct seem to me the strengths of the latter.
After dinner, the main event was square dancing: square dancing is an excellent activity for a church retreat – it's family-friendly, but still allows every level of public behavior up to flirting. The man and women of each couple were of compatible height, but the very family-friendliness of square dancing made a right-and-left grand with six adults and two short children. The caller explained the origin of the periodic stomp: although stomping is extremely satisfying, its original intent was to remove the manure from your boot. After we had covered the basics, the caller taught the grand square. I was dragged (not wholly unwillingly) into the grand square with a woman I'll call Blonde, Busty, and Beaming for lack of an actual name. A grand square is quite complicated, and probably becomes more difficult with sufficient imbibing, but BBB and I managed our part well. Other couples were significantly more confused. H., one of our St James parishioners, injured herself during the Cotton-Eyed Joe that followed the square dancing and preceded the evening's closing waltz.
Father David led Saturday Compline, using a poorly mimeographed sheet from the infamous New Zealand Prayer Book. The New Zealand Prayer Book can be disorienting, since it incorporates Maori traditional oratory, which differs greatly from English rhetoric. The New Zealand Our Father is called a translation, but expands to much for me to call it such. It is an exegesis, and one which I would like to examine further before endorsing it.
After Compline, several parishioners retired to the ranch house living room to play the game Celebrities. I had never played this game before. It was something like a cross between Charades and Musical Chairs. The game mechanics were fine, but a combination of the age divide among the players and a paucity of contributors to the pot threw the match.
On Sunday, we attended a more conventional service in the chapel. Every time I have gone to the Bishop's Ranch, I have forgotten that it is a functioning parish church and has its own congregation. I kicked a ball around with one of the kids. Then it was time to go home to the city with Ryszard and Elia.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Post Rojak
It seems apropos that I completed Lesson 23 of the online Malay course before a potluck. The twenty-third section seems a bit late to introduce such an important part of Malay culture, but the vocabulary is rich. At the nadir of my Bahasa Malaysia knowldedge, all I could say was "Saya hendak beli ikan" ("I would like to buy a fish"). The example sentence introduce the words for husband and wife - suami and isteri, respectively. These words look more Indian than Austronesian to my linguistic eye, although no doubt other words for such a basic relationship exist. The word for cheese, keju, is manifestly Portuguese, and the author of the lesson provides a warning against the consumption of pork in the company of Muslims. Rojak, a medley of individual foods, recieves mention, as does its linguistic equivalent, Bahasa Rojak, the bastard child of linguistic crossroads. The insertion of linguistic terminology relates to something further down the page. The list of fruits (buah-buahan) is extensive - many fruits seem to have no parallel name in English. Among these fruits is durian, the delicious and fragrant fruit. Imagine the smell of growing up in an durian orchard! The section on meal names discriminates between dinner (makan malam) and supper (makan lewat malam), something which Americans often fail to do.
For a linguistic desert, my old love clusivity recieves a clear explanation. Kami is inclusive we (I plus you) and kita is exclusive we (I, but not you). The lack of this distinction in the Indo-European languages is rarer than its presence, but I have read somewhere that the two forms of 'we/us' in Proto-Indo-European is relic of clusivity. You might call the forms relic-clusives! In Bahasa Rojak, however, the inclusive form kami is replaced by the specifically Bahasa Rojak form kitorang, from kita orang, 'we people'. If my hunch is correct, this is a reflection of the use of inclusive forms to reinforce ethnocentric bonds, since my Quechua-speaking ordained acquaintance used a similar example to illustrate clusivity in his mother tongue.
For a linguistic desert, my old love clusivity recieves a clear explanation. Kami is inclusive we (I plus you) and kita is exclusive we (I, but not you). The lack of this distinction in the Indo-European languages is rarer than its presence, but I have read somewhere that the two forms of 'we/us' in Proto-Indo-European is relic of clusivity. You might call the forms relic-clusives! In Bahasa Rojak, however, the inclusive form kami is replaced by the specifically Bahasa Rojak form kitorang, from kita orang, 'we people'. If my hunch is correct, this is a reflection of the use of inclusive forms to reinforce ethnocentric bonds, since my Quechua-speaking ordained acquaintance used a similar example to illustrate clusivity in his mother tongue.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
A Rash of Songs
This Sunday, a particularly rainy day, at the Museum of the Legion of Honor, Sylvia Rhine '78 (Carleton) and Eric Redlinger, the members of Asteria, gave a lecture on and played music from the court of Charles the Bold (sometimes known as 'the Rash'), Duke of Burgundy. The Duchy of Burgundy in the Late Middle Age was the richest "country" in Europe, and treated as an equal to the kings of official countries. Charles, as many generals have done, thought his campaign would be quickly done. He spent more than a year trying to take Neuss. A man of his stature had to be an accomplished warrior, host, and diplomat, so the delay in taking the city forced Charles to set up a court just beyond the field of battle. There he welcomed embassies with the gravitas necesssary for a man of his station, but he also entertained his guests and retainers. He had three minstrels, the three greatest in Europe, and he commanded that there be one new song every night. If the song failed to please him, he would execute the performer -okay, that last part is false, but the rest sounds like something out of Arabian Nights!
In the lecture before the concert, Sylvia Rhyne and Eric Redlinger discussed the impossibility of truly knowing the sound of medieval music. Some differences, nonetheless, could be ascertained - medieval music was composed of individual melodies that formed chords rather than chords per se; the music did not use meters (though of course notes had varying lengths). The dominant use of marriage as a political tool made amour de loin (love at a distance) the most common form of amour (Le Corps Sen Va, Antoine Busnoys). Medieval music was private and personal, but could be heard throughout the chateaux. Although it was personal, it did not use names, but preferred to idealize humans (Plus jay le monde regarde, Robert Morton; De Tous Biens Pleine, van Ghizeghem; Au gre de mes yeulx, Antoine Busnoys) and anthropomorphize abstract concepts (Allez Regrets, van Ghizeghem) The texts of medieval music were exquisite, expensive, and heart-shaped - although the last feature may be the result of the container reflecting the matter contained. Rhyne and Redlinger abbreviated the concert due to the impending and regular organ recital.
The concert featured compositions by the three composers (Antoine Busnoys, Robert Morton, and Hayne van Ghizighem), an anonymous composer, and Charles himself. It was lovely and soothing - perhaps too soothing, for a darkened room!
I'm recording the text of the planned concert here, since I find the songs beautiful in sentiment as well as performance - and a guy can never have too much love poetry as a miles amoris. Si je parle franCais, je pourrai les lire facilement. Certes, cette language est plus facile que le franCais anglo-normandais que je lisais a Saint Andrew.
Plus jay le monde regarde (Robert Morton)
Plus jay le monde regarde
Plus je voy mon premier chois
Avoir le bruit et le vois
De los de grace et de beaulte
The more I have seen the world
The more I see my first choice
To have the nobility and the voice
Of things of grace and beauty.
Quant ce vendra (Antoine Busnoys)
Quant ce vendra au droit destraindre
Comment pouray mon veul constraindre
Et mon cueur faindre a mon douloureux partement
De vous mon leal pencement, a qui nulluy ne peut actaindre.
When it comes to true torment
How shall I contain my desire?
Even my heart falters at my sad parting
From you, my loyal, whom it is not possible to reach.
Allez regrets (Hayne van Ghieghem)
Allez regrets vuidez de ma presance
Allez ailleurs querir vostre acointance
Assez avez tourmente mon las cueur.
Go, Regrets, depart from my presence.
Go elsewhere to find your company
You have tormented my weary heart enough.
Sur Mon Ame (Anonymous)
De tous biens pleine (van Ghizeghem)
De tous biens pleine est ma maistresse
Chacun luy doit tribut donneur,
Car assouvye est en valeur
Autant que jamais fut deesse.
My mistress is full of all good things.
Each to her should be a giver of tribute.
For she is as appeased in worthiness
As any goddess was.
N'auray-je jamais mieux (Morton)
N'auray-je jamais mieux que jay
Suis je la ou je demeurai,
Mamour et toute ma plaisance?
...N'aurez vous jamais connaissance
Que je suis tout votre et serai?
Will I never have better than I have,
Am I here where I shall remain,
My love and all my pleasure?
....Will you never have knowledge
That I am and will be wholly yours?
Le souvenir de vous me tue (Morton)
Le souvenir de vous me tue,
Mon seul bien, quant je ne vous voy.
Car ie vous jure, sur ma foy,
Sans vous ma liesse est perdue.
The memory of you kills me,
My one good, when I do not see you.
For I swear to you, upon my good faith
That without you my joy is lost.
Gentilz gallans (van Ghizeghem)
Gentilz gallans soions toujours joyeux
Et je vous en prie tres humblement
Et si servons les dames loyaulment
Sans reposer le vray cueur amoureux.
Noble swains, let's be alway joyful,
And I beseech you very humbly
And thus let's serve the ladies loyally
Without relaxing the true loving heart.
En voyant sa dame (Busnoys)
En voyant sa dame au matin
Pres du feu ou elle se lace
Ou est le cueur qui ja se lasse
De regarder son beau tetin.
Upon seeing his lady in the morning,
Near the fire where she rests,
Where is the heast that would relax itself
From observing her beautiful breast?
Au gre de mes yeulx (Busnoys)
Au gre de mes yeulx je vous ay choisie
La plus acomplie qui soit soulx les cieulx.
At the liking of my eyes I have chosen you
The most accomplished woman who is under heaven.
Ma Dame Helas (Charles the Bold)
Le corps sen va (Busnoys)
Le corps sen va et le cueur vous demeure.
Le quel veult faire avec vous sa demeure
Pour vous vouloir aimer tant et si fort
...A vous servir jusques ace que je meure.
The body leaves and the heart remains with you.
That which wants to make its stay with you.
From the desire to love you so strongly and completely
... To serve you until I die.
Ma dame trop vous mesprenes (Charles the Bold)
Ma dame trop vous mesprenes
Quant vers moy ne vous gouvernes.
Aultrement qui l'oseroit dire, dire?
My lady, you hurt me too much,
When you do not steer my verse.
Otherwise who would dare to speak?
In the lecture before the concert, Sylvia Rhyne and Eric Redlinger discussed the impossibility of truly knowing the sound of medieval music. Some differences, nonetheless, could be ascertained - medieval music was composed of individual melodies that formed chords rather than chords per se; the music did not use meters (though of course notes had varying lengths). The dominant use of marriage as a political tool made amour de loin (love at a distance) the most common form of amour (Le Corps Sen Va, Antoine Busnoys). Medieval music was private and personal, but could be heard throughout the chateaux. Although it was personal, it did not use names, but preferred to idealize humans (Plus jay le monde regarde, Robert Morton; De Tous Biens Pleine, van Ghizeghem; Au gre de mes yeulx, Antoine Busnoys) and anthropomorphize abstract concepts (Allez Regrets, van Ghizeghem) The texts of medieval music were exquisite, expensive, and heart-shaped - although the last feature may be the result of the container reflecting the matter contained. Rhyne and Redlinger abbreviated the concert due to the impending and regular organ recital.
The concert featured compositions by the three composers (Antoine Busnoys, Robert Morton, and Hayne van Ghizighem), an anonymous composer, and Charles himself. It was lovely and soothing - perhaps too soothing, for a darkened room!
I'm recording the text of the planned concert here, since I find the songs beautiful in sentiment as well as performance - and a guy can never have too much love poetry as a miles amoris. Si je parle franCais, je pourrai les lire facilement. Certes, cette language est plus facile que le franCais anglo-normandais que je lisais a Saint Andrew.
Plus jay le monde regarde (Robert Morton)
Plus jay le monde regarde
Plus je voy mon premier chois
Avoir le bruit et le vois
De los de grace et de beaulte
The more I have seen the world
The more I see my first choice
To have the nobility and the voice
Of things of grace and beauty.
Quant ce vendra (Antoine Busnoys)
Quant ce vendra au droit destraindre
Comment pouray mon veul constraindre
Et mon cueur faindre a mon douloureux partement
De vous mon leal pencement, a qui nulluy ne peut actaindre.
When it comes to true torment
How shall I contain my desire?
Even my heart falters at my sad parting
From you, my loyal, whom it is not possible to reach.
Allez regrets (Hayne van Ghieghem)
Allez regrets vuidez de ma presance
Allez ailleurs querir vostre acointance
Assez avez tourmente mon las cueur.
Go, Regrets, depart from my presence.
Go elsewhere to find your company
You have tormented my weary heart enough.
Sur Mon Ame (Anonymous)
De tous biens pleine (van Ghizeghem)
De tous biens pleine est ma maistresse
Chacun luy doit tribut donneur,
Car assouvye est en valeur
Autant que jamais fut deesse.
My mistress is full of all good things.
Each to her should be a giver of tribute.
For she is as appeased in worthiness
As any goddess was.
N'auray-je jamais mieux (Morton)
N'auray-je jamais mieux que jay
Suis je la ou je demeurai,
Mamour et toute ma plaisance?
...N'aurez vous jamais connaissance
Que je suis tout votre et serai?
Will I never have better than I have,
Am I here where I shall remain,
My love and all my pleasure?
....Will you never have knowledge
That I am and will be wholly yours?
Le souvenir de vous me tue (Morton)
Le souvenir de vous me tue,
Mon seul bien, quant je ne vous voy.
Car ie vous jure, sur ma foy,
Sans vous ma liesse est perdue.
The memory of you kills me,
My one good, when I do not see you.
For I swear to you, upon my good faith
That without you my joy is lost.
Gentilz gallans (van Ghizeghem)
Gentilz gallans soions toujours joyeux
Et je vous en prie tres humblement
Et si servons les dames loyaulment
Sans reposer le vray cueur amoureux.
Noble swains, let's be alway joyful,
And I beseech you very humbly
And thus let's serve the ladies loyally
Without relaxing the true loving heart.
En voyant sa dame (Busnoys)
En voyant sa dame au matin
Pres du feu ou elle se lace
Ou est le cueur qui ja se lasse
De regarder son beau tetin.
Upon seeing his lady in the morning,
Near the fire where she rests,
Where is the heast that would relax itself
From observing her beautiful breast?
Au gre de mes yeulx (Busnoys)
Au gre de mes yeulx je vous ay choisie
La plus acomplie qui soit soulx les cieulx.
At the liking of my eyes I have chosen you
The most accomplished woman who is under heaven.
Ma Dame Helas (Charles the Bold)
Le corps sen va (Busnoys)
Le corps sen va et le cueur vous demeure.
Le quel veult faire avec vous sa demeure
Pour vous vouloir aimer tant et si fort
...A vous servir jusques ace que je meure.
The body leaves and the heart remains with you.
That which wants to make its stay with you.
From the desire to love you so strongly and completely
... To serve you until I die.
Ma dame trop vous mesprenes (Charles the Bold)
Ma dame trop vous mesprenes
Quant vers moy ne vous gouvernes.
Aultrement qui l'oseroit dire, dire?
My lady, you hurt me too much,
When you do not steer my verse.
Otherwise who would dare to speak?
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Turkey Day Tumpang
I was relaxing from Thanksgiving setup by finishing the current lesson in the online Bahasa Malaysia course - I'd wanted to practice some hieroglyphics, but I'd already put away my notes on where I last ended in Chapter XXXII of the Book of the Dead. The subject of Lesson 21 was 'di mana' ('where?'), and, more generally, locative expressions. The Bahasa Malaysia words for left and right ('kiri' and 'kanan', respectively) must be a nightmare for folks like me, who often confuse left and right! But the most relevant word for the holidays is 'tumpang', which can be used in three ways: 1) in phrases such as "boleh saya tumpang tanya?" "do you mind if I ask you a question?" 2) "to stay at a relative's or friend's place for the night" 3) "to get a lift in a car", possibly from a friend or relative. This polysemy speaks volumes about Malay and Malaysian culture, and serves as a friendly warning about one-to-one translation!
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Through Rose-Colored Lenses
I've been reading a great book, Through the Language Glass by Guy Deutscher, whose previous book, The Unfolding of Language, holds an honored spot on my bookshelf - after the dictionaries, of course. The first part of Through the Language Glass addresses the history of color perception, starting with the British Prime Minister Gladstone (a politician in an era when keen intellect was not viewed as a sin) through the modern day. Although the modern progression of color terms is associated with exotic cultures, the pomegranate in the Garden was Gladstone's observation that Homer, known for his graphic similes, used a remarkably small palette (violet, dark, and pale green). I always imagined the maiden Chloris as having eaten something disagreeable! A language will always have a white/light vs. black/dark distinction; next comes red, the color of blood (from which word the term for "red" is often derived) and ripe fruit; then green or yellow, the color of unripe fruit; yellow, green, and blue follow. Blue is a latecomer, perhaps because few things in nature are vibrant blue. Perhaps we need a captive Smurf breeding program - I'm not sure the blue midgets have returned to the DC universe yet. Just as some languages favor when something was done (tense) against how something is viewed (aspect), so too some languages favor brightness over wavelength separation. Other languages prefer to split the colors in various ways - Russian distinguishes light blue from dark blue and Welsh grey-green from vibrant green. There is an entire amusing story behind the bluish tint of green Japanese traffic!
Regular readers of my blog (or, really, anyone who's seen my Favorite Books list on Facebook) will know I have a taste for dystopias, so it is no surprise that I have read Louise Lowry's The Giver. In that dystopia, all are equal, sharing the same birthday and identical gifts. On one particular birthday, all members of an age cohort receive a red bike. The adjective "red" is only attached to the word "bike", and the only sort of "bike" is a "red" one. It's clear from the narrative that the bikes are, in fact, bikes, but here is the question: if "red" and "bike" are always paired, does "red" actually mean anything in this context? Are they completely colorblind or is red the last remaining vestige of color perceived by their dulled senses? Apparently Lowry did her research! After I had read one of Deutscher's paragraphs on the color/shade orange, I examined the orange juice in the fridge and it was indeed a rich yellow rather than true orange. I had never noticed that before, and after my experience with ejective p in basic Korean vocabulary, I realize how many things individuals gloss over to cope with the overwhelming data stream that is life.
I'm saving Deutscher's discussion of "an ant is on your south foot" languages for another post, since someone else has brought up such matters recently.
Regular readers of my blog (or, really, anyone who's seen my Favorite Books list on Facebook) will know I have a taste for dystopias, so it is no surprise that I have read Louise Lowry's The Giver. In that dystopia, all are equal, sharing the same birthday and identical gifts. On one particular birthday, all members of an age cohort receive a red bike. The adjective "red" is only attached to the word "bike", and the only sort of "bike" is a "red" one. It's clear from the narrative that the bikes are, in fact, bikes, but here is the question: if "red" and "bike" are always paired, does "red" actually mean anything in this context? Are they completely colorblind or is red the last remaining vestige of color perceived by their dulled senses? Apparently Lowry did her research! After I had read one of Deutscher's paragraphs on the color/shade orange, I examined the orange juice in the fridge and it was indeed a rich yellow rather than true orange. I had never noticed that before, and after my experience with ejective p in basic Korean vocabulary, I realize how many things individuals gloss over to cope with the overwhelming data stream that is life.
I'm saving Deutscher's discussion of "an ant is on your south foot" languages for another post, since someone else has brought up such matters recently.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Royaneh 2011
*Sorry about the delayed posting - I was going to post it earlier today. Share and enjoy!
This was going to be the year when I spent the whole two weeks at Royaneh: it didn't quite work that way, but it came close. After a late doctor's appointment (the appointment was late, not the doctor!), I came up to Royaneh mid-Thursday. I recieved an enthusiastic welcome and settled into my usual location near the sweet aromas of the latrine.
The dining hall was packed, so much so that the camp staff had to eat outside or elsewhere. The reason for this overflowing cup? One of the camps in the Sierra was still under three feet of snow (a phenomenon which I can well believe, since I'd just been at Tahoe and marvelled at the remaining snowpack), and the troops which usually camped there had taken refuge at Royaneh. One of the interesting side effects of this generosity was the overlap of numbers, and a curious insistence on initials after troop names. For once, we shared a number with another troop.
Thursday was skit night, and our guys had chosen a familiar skit. The problem was this: it was familiar to the Scouts in the troop, but not to the rest of the camp. It is difficult to involve the whole troop and have a focused skit.
Friday brought the usual flurry of requests for me to sign this and initial that, and the reassurance that a two-week troop can provide more opportunity to complete partials. One of the merit badges offered that week, the surprise badge of the summer, was Nuclear Energy, which did not seem to me a "camp badge", but then, how many people are qualified to teach it? Another badge, Scouting History, seemed questionable. I may, however, be biased, as one of the requirements made me realize how long I have been involved with Scouting. Closing campfire caused the usual cognitive dissonance among the two-weekers, but (as always) everyone had to go to it. The new stage is very nice, although the random appearances of dogs in the background was a little distracting. Jay from Aquaneh, as usual, was master of ceremonies for final honors for tattered flags. At the first closing campfire of the summer, he seemed a little suprised at the dearth of veterans among the Scouters.
Saturday morning came, and the list of completes and partials was announced. The number of merit badges earned has increased with the consolidation of Mammals and Fish and Wildlife into the two-badge class "Fwammals". The other troops left, and some left quite early, so only our troop, and the troop with our number times three remained. The morning was devoted to the Junior Leader Training, which involved a larger number of scouts than I had anticipated. The session wnet well, for the most part, and sparked certain ideas for imporvement which I jotted down. The afternoon was split between swimming (in the pool, not at Romans Plunge) and CAPTURE THE FLAG! The teams were split, and the traditional boundaries had a slight modification due the troop times three. The bugle indicated the end of each round. Yes, some people contracted poison oak; the showering considerably delayed the start of the campfire, at which the Staff formed a Idol-like panel. Perhaps next I shall judge the Staff skit as they judge those of the patrols.
On Sunday morning, the Troop did not sleep in as long as they wished. The Scout's Own was slightly different - there were two speakers, one Scout, one parent. Several patrols used the time saved from an organized signup for Merit Badges to complete the cairn hikes from Saturday.
Monday saw a return to classes. It seems to me that the Scouts are busier with badges than when I was a Scout at Royaneh, a bit more ambitious. The biggest change, however, was this: for the first time, I was one of two adult leaders, not overshadowed by Joe Ehrman or Bruce.
Wednesday it rained, shocking the disbelievers who had never seen rain at Royaneh and though my description of a three-day rainy stretch the tall tale of a Troop alumnus. The classes were held in the halls and in the Chiefs' Lounge. Unfortunately, Wednesday was also Competition Night, held in the mess hall rather than the newly rebuilt Ralph W. Benson amphitheater. The rain had stopped, but it was too late to move back to the amphitheater. Most of the events were the same, and the competition was lively, but the judge of one of the events declared every contestant a winner. This did not sit well with the Troop, which felt that a proper competition has either a winner or a loser.
On Thursday, I held a Star conference for the First Class scouts who had passed our pre-Star conference test. That was an interesting experience. I asked the three candidates to plan various aspects of an overnight camping trip, given the landscape around Pioneers with which they were familiar.In retrospect, I should have said that they were leading a group, not merely going themselves. The trio put together a solid plan, I also held a Second Class conference for another Scout whose condition prevented him from attending Swimming MB. At this point, I no longer remember what the skit for Skit Night was.
On Friday night, of course, the Troop Feed happened. The Staff kept a lid on the number of camp counselor guests, and the food was delicious. The most memorable feature of this year's Troop Feed, however, was the post-prandial guitar sing-along which lasted far longer than we would usually allow. It was the sort of camaraderie you can't create.
This was going to be the year when I spent the whole two weeks at Royaneh: it didn't quite work that way, but it came close. After a late doctor's appointment (the appointment was late, not the doctor!), I came up to Royaneh mid-Thursday. I recieved an enthusiastic welcome and settled into my usual location near the sweet aromas of the latrine.
The dining hall was packed, so much so that the camp staff had to eat outside or elsewhere. The reason for this overflowing cup? One of the camps in the Sierra was still under three feet of snow (a phenomenon which I can well believe, since I'd just been at Tahoe and marvelled at the remaining snowpack), and the troops which usually camped there had taken refuge at Royaneh. One of the interesting side effects of this generosity was the overlap of numbers, and a curious insistence on initials after troop names. For once, we shared a number with another troop.
Thursday was skit night, and our guys had chosen a familiar skit. The problem was this: it was familiar to the Scouts in the troop, but not to the rest of the camp. It is difficult to involve the whole troop and have a focused skit.
Friday brought the usual flurry of requests for me to sign this and initial that, and the reassurance that a two-week troop can provide more opportunity to complete partials. One of the merit badges offered that week, the surprise badge of the summer, was Nuclear Energy, which did not seem to me a "camp badge", but then, how many people are qualified to teach it? Another badge, Scouting History, seemed questionable. I may, however, be biased, as one of the requirements made me realize how long I have been involved with Scouting. Closing campfire caused the usual cognitive dissonance among the two-weekers, but (as always) everyone had to go to it. The new stage is very nice, although the random appearances of dogs in the background was a little distracting. Jay from Aquaneh, as usual, was master of ceremonies for final honors for tattered flags. At the first closing campfire of the summer, he seemed a little suprised at the dearth of veterans among the Scouters.
Saturday morning came, and the list of completes and partials was announced. The number of merit badges earned has increased with the consolidation of Mammals and Fish and Wildlife into the two-badge class "Fwammals". The other troops left, and some left quite early, so only our troop, and the troop with our number times three remained. The morning was devoted to the Junior Leader Training, which involved a larger number of scouts than I had anticipated. The session wnet well, for the most part, and sparked certain ideas for imporvement which I jotted down. The afternoon was split between swimming (in the pool, not at Romans Plunge) and CAPTURE THE FLAG! The teams were split, and the traditional boundaries had a slight modification due the troop times three. The bugle indicated the end of each round. Yes, some people contracted poison oak; the showering considerably delayed the start of the campfire, at which the Staff formed a Idol-like panel. Perhaps next I shall judge the Staff skit as they judge those of the patrols.
On Sunday morning, the Troop did not sleep in as long as they wished. The Scout's Own was slightly different - there were two speakers, one Scout, one parent. Several patrols used the time saved from an organized signup for Merit Badges to complete the cairn hikes from Saturday.
Monday saw a return to classes. It seems to me that the Scouts are busier with badges than when I was a Scout at Royaneh, a bit more ambitious. The biggest change, however, was this: for the first time, I was one of two adult leaders, not overshadowed by Joe Ehrman or Bruce.
Wednesday it rained, shocking the disbelievers who had never seen rain at Royaneh and though my description of a three-day rainy stretch the tall tale of a Troop alumnus. The classes were held in the halls and in the Chiefs' Lounge. Unfortunately, Wednesday was also Competition Night, held in the mess hall rather than the newly rebuilt Ralph W. Benson amphitheater. The rain had stopped, but it was too late to move back to the amphitheater. Most of the events were the same, and the competition was lively, but the judge of one of the events declared every contestant a winner. This did not sit well with the Troop, which felt that a proper competition has either a winner or a loser.
On Thursday, I held a Star conference for the First Class scouts who had passed our pre-Star conference test. That was an interesting experience. I asked the three candidates to plan various aspects of an overnight camping trip, given the landscape around Pioneers with which they were familiar.In retrospect, I should have said that they were leading a group, not merely going themselves. The trio put together a solid plan, I also held a Second Class conference for another Scout whose condition prevented him from attending Swimming MB. At this point, I no longer remember what the skit for Skit Night was.
On Friday night, of course, the Troop Feed happened. The Staff kept a lid on the number of camp counselor guests, and the food was delicious. The most memorable feature of this year's Troop Feed, however, was the post-prandial guitar sing-along which lasted far longer than we would usually allow. It was the sort of camaraderie you can't create.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Possession and Poetry
One of the books I purchased at Archon 35 in St Louis was The Handbook of Science Fiction Poetry by Suzette Haden Elgin, the author of Native Tongue and creator of the allegedly woman-friendly language Láadan (more on that thought later, if I remember). I was not planning to write any English-language (or even Láadan) poetry, but I did want to know her thoughts on the techniques of poetry to improve my prose. One section in particular caught my eye. Elgin points out in this section that every English sentence and word has a “phantom sentence” underlying it, and that the more liberal rules of poetry expose that truth more effectively than prose. The construction of a science-fictional or fantasy setting requires more exposition than a real-world fictional setting, and nowadays much of that must be discreet. I'm a fan of the old-fashioned expository speech, thanks to the amount of 1930s and '40s books I read as a kid, but that taste seems rare now.
The use of the word “orphan” implies two dead parents, and thereby can hang the tale. Add the word “homeless” to “orphan”, and the phrase suggests that the lack of a roof is connected to the lack of parents, although it need not be (perhaps the family was homeless beforehand). If you write the sentence “The homeless orphan was crying”, you have added definiteness (a specific orphan), a contrast (is there an orphan was has a home? Is there someone who is homeless but not an orphan?), and an action that implies a cause (why is the homeless orphan crying? Homelessness or dead parents need not be the cause of the orphans' sorrow.).
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Romney's Run
There's been a lot of talk recently about whether Mitt Romney is Christian. Romney's membership in the Church of Latter-Day Saints does not endear him to the Evangelical Republican base. From the standpoint of the "mainstream" churches, also, Romney is not in fact Christian, since Mormons follow a second revelation of Jesus Christ, and a new revelation is the sign of a false prophet. The Republican reluctance to endorse Romney, however, is a bit surprising: the Evangelical Right is willing to work with non-Evangelicals and non-Christians in movements such as the pro-life movement. The confusion, it seems to me, stems from a conflation of two roles: the leader of the Republican Party and the President of the United States. It would be interesting to learn if the controversy over Romney in any way reflects the discussions during the Kennedy campaign.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Indecent Propositions
The other day, I dedicated some time to actually reading the San Francisco voters' pamphlet. A lot of people want to be mayor of San Francisco. The number of propositions is fairly low, but every one of them must be read carefully. In one of them, the final line of the proposal sheds a different light on the preceding sentences, a light which reversed my decision. Such surprises are good in drama, but in politics, and particularly in a system allegedly designed to be friendly to the public, such surprises are dishonest and sneaky. Only in government is it good form to attach unrelated matters to a bill on a different subject. The other feature of propositions which confuses and annoys me is the number of opposing propositions. Even if I understand and agree that Proposition X is a good idea, it is impossible to tell what the interaction of Proposition X and Proposition Y will be. I vote on individual propositions, but the effects are multiple.
Harmonia Altaica
The other day (well, a while ago now), I was reading about the Altaic hypothesis and examining a chart of sound changes that included the changes from Altaic to Old Japonic (the ancestor of Japanese, the languages of the Ryukyu islands, and possibly the extinct Gaya language of South Korea). The Altaic hypothesis is that a large variety of language families, of which the most famous is the Turkic and the most vicious is Mongolic, are the descendants of a theoretical language, Altaic, which did not have vowel harmony, but did have features that created vowel harmony in the descendant languages. Vowel harmony, the process by which only certain vowels may appear together in a single word, implies a reduction in the numbers of vowels (since most vowels in a vowel harmony language “pair up”), and the pattern proposed for the creation of Old Japonic halves the numbers of vowels to one low, one mid, one back, and one front. Both the back and the front are intrinsically high. A separate common phenomenon, discouraged and disparaged in that oddball language English, is onomatopoeia, the imitation of the sounds of creatures and phenomena in the words that mean those creatures and phenomena – a good example is Bahasa Indonesia 'susu' 'milk', from the suckling sound of babes.
If Old Japonic had both onomatopoeia and vowel harmony, the extremely high proportion of like vowels in sequence in current Japanese would seem less strange, as would the inability of the earliest phonetic scripts to recognize the true differences in the eight-vowel system of Old Japanese. The Turkic runes, the oldest form of native Turkic writing, incorporate the vowel harmony system into the structure of the mixed alphabet/syllabary, but do so awkwardly and incompletely.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Copts and Mobbers
The recent news that Egyptian mobs attacked a Coptic church distresses me greatly. The excitement of the Arab Spring has faded, when Egyptians were united against Mubarak, and normal, ugly political discourse has reasserted itself. The fundamental problem with many rebellions is the lack of a cause for which it is fighting. Attacks on Copts are not a new phenomenon in contemporary Egypt, but such rioting and unrest provides a pretext by which the allegedly provisional military government can cement its base or weaken its opposition. If the mobile vulgus is busy attacking non-Muslims (in which case Christians will have to do in the absence of Jews), then it cannot attack the true and established opposition.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Archon 35: A Personal Retrospective
I'd better write this before I begin to forget the details!
I'd dipped my toes into Wondercon several times (whenever I wasn't camping that weekend), and I recently went to WorldCon in Reno; I'd even been to St Louis before. This was, however, my first Archon. I didn't announce my status ahead of time too publically - too many horror stories about maltreatment of noobs. I loaded up on books in the hallway, but didn't buy so much in the dealer's room - I'm a bibliophile, not a collector. The Science Fiction Poetry Handbook by Suzette Haden Elgin is good! I'm also caught up on Avengers history in time for the movie, in case there are any continuity nods. I had a nice chat with Sara Harvey, whose book Convent of the Pure I bought at WorldCon but have not read yet (the cover is far too salacious to display in public). I also bought a modern pulp hero story - the equivalent of steampunk. Unfortunately, pulp heros tend to be popular in rough economic times.
The panels I attended had the following themes: Superman, Firefly, Dr. Who, steampunk, and writing panels. The Superman panel proposed that he was a distillation of several characters (Hugo Danner, Doc Savage, etc.) and not original at all. But then, that is also the description of Casablanca! The Who panel was more interesting for meeting people (I am tired of Rory and Amy!), especially Paul, Rosemary, and Beth, but the Firefly panel was livelier. Firefly is a good example of a show where the quality made a short run a lasting work. The steampunk panels were fascinating, and, as I posted on the FB Archon site, taught me an appreciation of steampunk. The writing panels were very informative - Rachel Neumeier had interesting points, and I may have to thank Michael Tiedemann for his advice on non-monetary social status markers. One of the downsides of the panels, however, was the level of rudeness among the audience. Such poorly socialized convention members are one of the reason that science fiction, fantasy, and gaming are in public disrepute.
The costumes! O the costumes! The costumes were fantastic. The emphasis was fantasy or steampunk. Some of them were ill-advised or made when the wearer was thinner. There was a lot of cross-dressing (most notably the group who dressed as the X-Women), but Beth reminded me that I live in a strange little bubble where cross-dressing is more acceptable than other cities. I watched the Masquerade, which was amazing - some contestants must have spent a fortune. My favorite costume was a tie between the Weeeping Angel and Kasey MacKenzie's Kaylee (Firefly) outfit.
The parties went into the early morning, but my disdain for drunken idiots and my inability (even in college) to pull an all-nighter prevented me from partaking much.
If people left Sunday, they missed the flying shark.
The Doubletree, where I stayed, was nice, connected to the Gateway Center (sans Aboriginal teleporter) by a bridge over a ditch. Nothing fancy, but flyover country seems to remember that it is a hospitality industry.
I'd dipped my toes into Wondercon several times (whenever I wasn't camping that weekend), and I recently went to WorldCon in Reno; I'd even been to St Louis before. This was, however, my first Archon. I didn't announce my status ahead of time too publically - too many horror stories about maltreatment of noobs. I loaded up on books in the hallway, but didn't buy so much in the dealer's room - I'm a bibliophile, not a collector. The Science Fiction Poetry Handbook by Suzette Haden Elgin is good! I'm also caught up on Avengers history in time for the movie, in case there are any continuity nods. I had a nice chat with Sara Harvey, whose book Convent of the Pure I bought at WorldCon but have not read yet (the cover is far too salacious to display in public). I also bought a modern pulp hero story - the equivalent of steampunk. Unfortunately, pulp heros tend to be popular in rough economic times.
The panels I attended had the following themes: Superman, Firefly, Dr. Who, steampunk, and writing panels. The Superman panel proposed that he was a distillation of several characters (Hugo Danner, Doc Savage, etc.) and not original at all. But then, that is also the description of Casablanca! The Who panel was more interesting for meeting people (I am tired of Rory and Amy!), especially Paul, Rosemary, and Beth, but the Firefly panel was livelier. Firefly is a good example of a show where the quality made a short run a lasting work. The steampunk panels were fascinating, and, as I posted on the FB Archon site, taught me an appreciation of steampunk. The writing panels were very informative - Rachel Neumeier had interesting points, and I may have to thank Michael Tiedemann for his advice on non-monetary social status markers. One of the downsides of the panels, however, was the level of rudeness among the audience. Such poorly socialized convention members are one of the reason that science fiction, fantasy, and gaming are in public disrepute.
The costumes! O the costumes! The costumes were fantastic. The emphasis was fantasy or steampunk. Some of them were ill-advised or made when the wearer was thinner. There was a lot of cross-dressing (most notably the group who dressed as the X-Women), but Beth reminded me that I live in a strange little bubble where cross-dressing is more acceptable than other cities. I watched the Masquerade, which was amazing - some contestants must have spent a fortune. My favorite costume was a tie between the Weeeping Angel and Kasey MacKenzie's Kaylee (Firefly) outfit.
The parties went into the early morning, but my disdain for drunken idiots and my inability (even in college) to pull an all-nighter prevented me from partaking much.
If people left Sunday, they missed the flying shark.
The Doubletree, where I stayed, was nice, connected to the Gateway Center (sans Aboriginal teleporter) by a bridge over a ditch. Nothing fancy, but flyover country seems to remember that it is a hospitality industry.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Rain, Again
Il pleuve. Llueve. It is raining. Weather often isn't anybody's fault, unless you count Greek peasants who believe the Earth is Zeus' toilet bowl. Weather doesn't have an agent (look at how people complain about it!) and often has no patient either, provided you don't run around in thunderstorms with a kite. Since the weather is an event without mover or moved, languages with mind-boggling conjugations often have only a few forms in the third person singular (he/she/it) for “it rains”. I've even heard that a few languages forgo a verbal form of 'rain' and leave only a noun – it would not surprise me if such languages demanded a subject for their sentences, the reverse of the court of an unjust king. Under normal circumstances, rain falls from the sky to the ground, so the sentence “Rain comes down” does not appear strange.
In ancient times, these forms made sense; weather happened. If certain weather was predictable according to the season, that did not indicate any understanding of the cause. Even today, the weather forecast is shockingly uncertain compared to the “stricter” sciences. Has the greater understanding of the interaction of humus clouds and human crowds brought us to a point where the tempestuous agents of human nature ought to be acknowledged, in speech as well as thought? I'm not claiming some strong version of the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, which for me is more a tool of creation than dissection, but if people in uncomfortable positions use the passive (“mistakes were made”) to eliminate personal responsibility, why not use the reverse to promote responsibility?
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Sales & Services
Written before the trip:
I'm flying to St Louis tomorrow for Archon. It's also Rosh Hashanah. I'm not Jewish, but I know how important the High Holy Days are in the tradition. I've also been listening to NPR, one of whose segments focused on the financial straits of members of synagogues. If I have understood the situation correctly, this is the time of year when many temples collect membership fees, partially via the sales of tickets to High Holy Days services, but many Jewish men and women who in better times readily paid for their tickets cannot pay this year. Although I'm sure it's a mitzvah to provide a ticket under these circumstances, the idea of selling tickets to a day of obligation is very strange. It's true that my Anglican tradition used to rent the forward aisles to various prominent families (including some of my ancestors), but the entire church was never declared off-limits to humbler and poorer congregational members in good standing! I find it hard to believe that the Jewish tradition would deliberately discourage Jews from going to temple, so I must be missing some element here that is clearer to one raised in the faith tradition.
I'm flying to St Louis tomorrow for Archon. It's also Rosh Hashanah. I'm not Jewish, but I know how important the High Holy Days are in the tradition. I've also been listening to NPR, one of whose segments focused on the financial straits of members of synagogues. If I have understood the situation correctly, this is the time of year when many temples collect membership fees, partially via the sales of tickets to High Holy Days services, but many Jewish men and women who in better times readily paid for their tickets cannot pay this year. Although I'm sure it's a mitzvah to provide a ticket under these circumstances, the idea of selling tickets to a day of obligation is very strange. It's true that my Anglican tradition used to rent the forward aisles to various prominent families (including some of my ancestors), but the entire church was never declared off-limits to humbler and poorer congregational members in good standing! I find it hard to believe that the Jewish tradition would deliberately discourage Jews from going to temple, so I must be missing some element here that is clearer to one raised in the faith tradition.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
New Colors
As I was handing out the Ray-O-Han awards, I couldn't help thinking that the 100th anniversary of the troop is fast approaching. I'm definitely sticking around for that landmark! Of course, the centenary will require a new color, and the passing of the magenta bar. We could go with the standard centenary color, but we don't have to - magenta is not the 75th anniversary color, after all. This is merely my personal poll, but I'd like to know what colors Troop alumni thinks should top the green of Leadership and the red of Tradition.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Beasts, Bass, and Bob
Pirahã (native name: xapaitiiso) is a language spoken by less than 400 people in the Amazon. Daniel Everett, who has studied the language extensively, has made some extraordinary claims about it which are much disputed in linguistic circles. I'm not interested right now in the more contentious ones, or delving into the prononciation.
What does interest me is the pronominal system. The first and second person singular are ti3 and gi1xai3 respectively (the superscript numbers represent tones, with 1 being the highest). There are numerous third person singulars, of which hi3 is animate human (and apparently default masculine). The most common first and second person plurals are combinations of the singular persons; first person plural inclusive is ti3 gi1xai3 (first + second), first person plural exclusive is ti3 hi3 (first + third), and second person plural is gi1xai3 hi3 (second + third). The plural also has forms using a suffix -(a)(i)tiso – I'm not sure what causes the variation between ti3a1ti3so3 (first plural), gi1xa3i1ti3so3 (second plural), and hi3ai1ti3so3 (third plural, possibly exclusively human).
There are at least five third person singular pronouns (possibly derived from nouns, as many third persons around the world are), which break down into a simple binary chart. The highest branch divides animate from inanimate; inanimate singular is a3. An animate-inanimate distinction is the first divison one would expect if any division is made. The next division, human versus non-human, is also a common divison. The human pronoun is hi3. Humans come in two varieties, male and female (it would be inappropriate to quip about Genesis here, since the Piraha~ have an aversion to myth), and the specifically female pronoun is i3. Non-humans come in two varieties also, but the division is not between male and female, but aquatic and non-aquatic. The aquatic pronoun is si3, the non-aquatic i1k. If you lived in a land that flooded twenty feet every year, you'd be interested in this distinction!
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