[One afternoon earlier this month, I was riding the New York City Subway to an appointment uptown and I noticed a series of ads in the car in which I was riding. The ad was for Scentbird.com and the tagline read: “A smarter way to fragrance.” (Scentbird.com is an on-line company that enables its users to choose and get a monthly supply of sample designer fragrances before buying them.) So, apparently fragrance is now a verb, like to parent, to dialogue, and to task. Granted, sometimes turning a noun into a verb serves a useful purpose, like to access, to chair, to debut, to highlight, and to impact, and some are just slang or colloquial expressions such as sports reporters saying that an athlete medalled or someone reporting that a topic is trending on social media. Most of the time, however, the new use only manages to save time in a TV commercial or space in a print ad where time and space equal money. The large percentage of these words are both unnecessary and inelegant (though I cop to using them myself occasionally)..
[(The
use of nouns as if they are verbs is not, by the way, the same as forming a new
verb from a noun where none previously existed: euthanize from euthanasia, incentivize from incentive,
opine from opinion, burgle from burglar, or enthuse
from enthusiasm or the existing adjective enthusiastic. Those last three constructions, incidentally,
are called ‘back-formations.’)
[Last year, I posted a
pair of articles by Henry Hitchings of the New York Times on the reverse
phenomenon, turning verbs into nouns, under the umbrella title “Nominalization.” Published on Rick On Theater on 25 January 2017: Hutchings’s articles were “Those Irritating
Verbs-as-Nouns,” posted on the Times’ blog “Opinionator” on 30 March 2013 (at http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com) and “The Dark Side of Verbs-as-Nouns,” his follow-up column on “Opinionator,”
published in the paper’s print edition of 5 April 2013.
[I called the phenomenon about which Hutchings’s
wrote ‘nominalization’; for the use of nouns as verbs, one writer below, Judy
Muller of ABC News, nominates ‘verbation’ as an apt name for the phenomenon and
Chi Luu, in JSTOR Daily, dubbed
the usage ‘verbing.’ I’ve chosen to call
it ‘verbificaion,’ which I’ll define as ‘the making of a verb.’]
“JUDY MULLER ANNOYED
ABOUT NOUNS AS VERBS”
by Judy Muller
[Judy
Muller’s report was initially aired on ABC News’s World
News Tonight on 16 March 2001 (https://abcnews.go.com/US/wireStory/las-vegas-police-release-final-report-oct-shooting-57013319).]
Buckminster
Fuller once said, “God is a verb.”
He
did not mean that literally, of course, but metaphorically. I think he was
trying to say that love is action. He did NOT go on to use that noun as an
actual verb, as in “I God you.” That would have been annoying. Supremely
annoying, you might say.
And
supremely annoyed is just how I feel about an increasing public acceptance of
the practice of turning nouns into verbs. Perhaps it’s my brief career as a
high school English teacher that makes me so persnickety about this particular
mutilation of the language. Persnickety is not an endearing quality, I know.
Cringing
About Efforting
But
I can’t help it — I cringe when I hear someone say “We’re efforting that.” I
took the effort to look it up and yes, there it was in the dictionary — still a
noun, just like the good old days. Impact is another one — as in, “his behavior
is impacting everyone in the office.” One dictionary describes this use of
impact as “common usage,” which is just another way of saying that impact as a
verb has gained access to a germ of respectability.
Notice
I used the phrase GAINED ACCESS. I did not say “the verb accessed
respectability,” as in the horrible but all-too-common phrase “we are accessing
your account.” And while we’re talking business, what illiterate ad agency ever
dreamed up the slogan “the smarter way to office?”
Suddenly
it’s everywhere, this faux verb “to office.” How do you conjugate that,
exactly? I office, you office, we office? And is that the same thing as “multitask?”
This word is unappealing, even as a noun. But used as a verb — as in, “she is
multitasking today” — it’s downright ugly.
Are
You Journaling?
Once
you become aware of this trend, you start hearing examples all over the place.
Overheard at a Weightwatchers’ meeting: “You need to keep track of calories, so
be sure you’re journaling everyday.” Apparently the phrase “writing in your
journal” is a little too weighty. Overheard at a town council meeting: “We hope
to liase with the police department on a regular basis.”
Overheard
in a conversation among teenagers: “My mom is trying to guilt me into it.” And
at an education conference, of all places, “We need to dialogue on that issue.”
Not that the news business is immune. When we talk about transcribing
interviews verbatim, or word for word, we talk about verbating them.
For
the record, verbate is not a verb. It’s not even a noun. But if you wanted to
INVENT a word to describe this onerous trend of rendering nouns into verbs, “verbate”
would do quite nicely.
I
realize this persnickety rant is not likely to change a thing. But I figured it
couldn’t hurt to ONPASS my displeasure.
[Judy Muller has been a
correspondent for ABC News since 1990, contributing reports to such
programs as Nightline and World News Tonight. She’s a regular
contributor to National Public Radio’s Morning Edition program. Previous
to her employment with ABC, she worked for CBS News, contributing to CBS News Sunday Morning and the CBS Weekend News on
television, as well as a regular radio feature, First Line Report. She joined the faculty of the Annenberg
School for Communication at the University of Southern
California in August 2003 and now serves as professor of journalism. As part of the Nightline team,
she received an Alfred I. duPont-Columbia University Award for
coverage of the 1992 Los Angeles riots and an Emmy
Award for coverage of the O. J. Simpson case. She has written a book entitled Now
This: Radio, Television—and the Real World (G. P. Putnam’s
Sons, 2000).
* *
* *
“LINGUA OBSCURA:
DO YOU EVEN LANGUAGE, BRO? UNDERSTANDING WHY NOUNS BECOME VERBS”
by Chi Luu
[Luu’s
essay was published on the JSTOR Daily of 9 March 2016 (https://daily.jstor.org/in-which-we-science-why-nouns-become-verbs-because-language/).]
Understanding the phenomenon known as “verbing”–where nouns are turned into verbs.
Ah,
the topsy-turvy world of language innovation, where the lion lies down with the
lamb, nouns suddenly become verbs, and “verbing
weirds language.” Consider popular internet memes like “Let me librarian that for you”
and ”Do you even science, bro?” in which ”librarian” and “science”
are nouns weirdly disguised as verbs. So is this a playful new linguistic
construction or is it time to roll our eyes at the internet, again?
The
dicey practice of turning a noun into a verb has long been a square on the
language pedant’s bingo game. Take examples like dialoguing, actioning,
efforting, or transiting. (No really, please take
them away.) It’s easy to see why these awkward constructions might
elicit, as Fowler put it,
“cries of anguish.” Why use these nouns as verbs at all when there are
already perfectly good verbs like talk, act, etc. that
mean the same thing? Is the jargon-riddled business world impacting (first
used as a verb c. 1600) how we speak now? Can we just boycott (thanks, Captain Charles Boycott) them
and Houdini our way
out of this mess?
The
conversion of nouns into verbs is not actually a new phenomenon. Some call
it “verbing,” which sounds like a new dance craze, while linguistic nerds
call it denominalization.
Benjamin Franklin preferred to call it “awkward and abominable.” (And
many modern language pundits
apparently are still fighting the good fight on his behalf). But
before you join them and “out-Herod
Herod” over denominal verbs, know that Shakespeare was also quite
the inveterate verber—one among many—because nouns have been verbing their
way all over the English language for quite some time. While some
examples might be questionable, denominal verbs can also be useful. We
shouldn’t write them all off just yet.
The
Common-Or-Garden Denominal Verb
Some
people are only happy with denominal verbs when it rains. We’re
also not fazed by them when buttering our bread, lacing our shoes, elbowing our way out of a crowd or petitioning the
president to stop bombing villages. We can now email, text, friend, and blog without
difficulty. These everyday denominal verbs have long been accepted as
ordinary verbs through their frequent usage.
But
denominal verbs are also extraordinary—they act as vivid linguistic shortcuts.
By just converting a noun to a verb, unique information is conveyed (and
enriches the language with new rhetorical imagery). This works because if you
know the properties of the noun, you can quickly determine the likely
meaning of the verb. Rain rains, emails are emailed, and if you bike somewhere,
you’re not exactly traveling in a car. Using the noun instead of a
verb would otherwise require a longer expression. Compare “We got out
by nudging others out of our way with our elbows” (more literal) with “We
elbowed our way out” (more figurative). It’s remarkably economical,
following Gricean principles of conversation, since denominal verbs are really more like
verbalized sentences, Eve V. Clark and Herbert H. Clark explain in their
1979 study, “When Nouns Surface as Verbs” [Language (Linguistic
Society of America, Baltimore) 55.4 (Dec. 1979): 767-811]. The more concrete
and unambiguous the noun’s meaning, the more easily it’s accepted as a verb.
After considering over 1,300 examples of denominal verbs from TV, radio,
newspapers, and novels, it’s no surprise that Clark and Clark found that
the majority of them come from nouns that “denote a palpable object.”
How
We Understand “Innovative” Verbs We’ve Never Heard Before
Denominal
verbs are even more interesting than you think. One amazing feature of
language innovation is our ability to invent and understand words we’ve
never heard before. Enter ”innovative”
denominal verbs: they’re created on the fly and can somehow be
understood by a non-mind reading listener instantly. Some examples include, “Will
you cigarette me” (Mae West), ”We all Wayned and Cagneyed” (New York
Times Magazine), or “My sister Houdini’d her way out of the locked closet.”
Invented
verbs from proper nouns are a linguistic phenomenon that YOLO [‘you only live once’; this is not only
a verbification, but also an acronym] for the moment. They rarely
last long enough to make it to a dictionary (except as idioms
separated from the original noun, such as ”boycott” or “lynch”). For that
reason many might discount these neologisms as insignificant
ephemera, but the fact is that this kind of creative verbing is prolific in
modern speech, particularly in internet culture—and it’s changing how we
all use language.
So
how are we supposed to understand verbs we’ve never heard before when they’re
not even in the dictionary? Somehow we manage to figure it out.
As Matt Damon might say: “I’m gonna have to science the shit out of
this.”
According
to Clark and Clark, when it comes to creating innovative denominal verbs,
you need to draw on a shared
cultural knowledge of the original noun. Verbing works if
you can reasonably assume that the salient features of the
noun are so obvious that the verb sense would be easy to figure out.
The context provides additional semantic clues. So, if you know the
stereotypical properties of a noun like brick (it’s an inert
rectangular block), you can reasonably figure out what it means to say “I
bricked my phone,” even if you’ve never seen the word used like this before.
(To emphasize: “I did something to my phone to render it as useless
as an inert rectangular block,” meaning it’s “like a brick,” which becomes
a stand in for “I broke my phone”).
Proper
nouns as verbs are trickier. It seems weird to use a person’s name as a
verb, but we do all it the time. In order to understand expressions like ”My
sister Houdini’d her way out of a locked closet” or “He Kanye Wested me
before I could say anything,” we need special information about who
Houdini or Kanye West are and what they’re best known for in popular culture.
While brick has a well-defined sense, a name refers
to a person who might have any number of potential senses that could
change over time. Proper noun type verbs have to be
constructed carefully because a listener has to juggle multiple
theories in order to reach the intended meaning, even with context clues. Kanye
West might be famous for many things, but you’d have to both agree that
contextually, it’s probably that
notorious incident involving Taylor Swift that has emerged
as a salient pop cultural reference.
So
innovative verbs can have a “shifting sense and denotation—one that depends on
the time, place and circumstances of their use.” Contextually, we understand
that the verb in “bricking a phone” can be different than in “bricking a
fireplace.” If your listeners don’t share the same cultural knowledge, you
might end up bricking your shiny new denominal verb. A pre-1979 example like ”General
Motors was Ralph Nadered into stopping production of the Corvair” might refer
to one thing, but unless Ralph Nader has always been up to the same old trick, “To
Ralph Nader an election” after the 2000 US presidential election might mean
something else entirely to the next generation.
Why
We Verb On the Internet
Verbing
can be a faster and fresher way to convey tired information. And it can do so
with a sense of humor and surprise. The internet and social media have made it
easier than ever to share neologisms, but it’s not just about creating new
words. It’s also about creating new forms. The internet loves linguistic
shortcuts, because memes. (This new construction of because + noun has become popular
online and replaces having to explain something in a longwinded fashion).
Verbing likewise thrives in a fast-paced, short attention
span internet culture, which is all about the viral sharing and
remixing of pop culture memes. If you get the reference, you too can be a
member. After all, punchlines are no fun if they have to be over explained.
But
this isn’t your gran’s verbing—instead of a single noun or name, it’s the
internet meme itself that provides the contextual framework. In the line, “She
houdini’d out of a locked closet,” it’s the phrase “locked closet” and the
subject’s name recognition that helps a listener understand what “houdini”
means. But without knowledge of the well-known expression “Let me Google that
for you,” the phrase “Let me librarian that for you” is harder to
understand. If you don’t know the internet meme “Do you even lift, bro?” (which
expresses skepticism for someone’s knowledge), you won’t really get the “Do you
even science, bro?” meme. These memes tell us exactly how we’re
supposed to understand these new verbs, as though we were dealing with a more
concrete noun.
While
many of these verbs may not last, it’s evident that verbing under the
influence of memes has changed the way we talk. It may be weird, but somehow it
ends up working. Because language.
[JSTOR
is a digital library for scholars, researchers, and students. JSTOR Daily readers can access the original research
behind our articles for free on JSTOR. Chi
Luu is a computational linguist, a researcher concerned with the statistical or
rule-based modeling of natural language from a computational perspective, and
NLP (natural language processing, a branch of artificial intelligence concerned
with automated interpretation and generation of human language) researcher who
tinkers with tiny models and machines to uncover curious mysteries in human
language. She has worked on dictionaries,
multi-language search engines, and question-answering applications.]
* *
* *
[William
Safire (1929-2009), who served as speechwriter for President Richard Nixon and
Vice President Spiro Agnew before becoming a journalist and columnist, used to
write a weekly feature for the New
York Times Magazine called “On Language”
from 1979 until his death at 79. He
wrote, among other topics, on word usage, sticky points of grammar, and the
etymology of words and phrases, including slang and neologisms. I disagreed with Safire’s politics—he was a
pretty unreconstructed conservative—but I read “On Language” regularly and with
relish. I wrote in response to his
columns several times—and he even published my comments on occasion, either in
his Sunday feature or in the books he compiled from his columns and the letters
he received from readers. In the Times
Magazine of 26 October 1980, Safire wrote
a piece called “When Out Is In” which, in part, was about what the columnist
dubbed “the ‘out’ construction”—phrases in which the preposition is used as a “combining
form that turns any bit of slang in noun or adjective form into a useful,
with-it phrasal verb.” He offered
examples such as chicken out, zonked
out, spaced out, pig out, veg out, and others.
[Soon
after “When Out Is In” was published, I wrote to Safire with some suggestions
of another sort of “verbification” by combining form. (I don’t know when I actually sent the letter
because I don’t have a file copy of it—and this was at least three years before
I got my first word processor. My letter
was published in Safire’s 1982 book, What’s The Good
Word? [Avon].) I’m also trusting that Safire printed my
letter as I wrote it since I can’t prove otherwise. In any case, I wrote the “language maven” (as
he often called himself—people like me who wrote in and others Safire consulted
were his “Lexicographic Irregulars,” a take, I assume, on Sherlock Holmes’s
Baker Street Irregulars), and I quote:
Your column on “out” as a combining form reminded me of a
similar locution we used in college in the sixties. It seems to have completely disappeared from
common usage, but we used it ubiquitously to turn nouns into verbs: the use of “it”
as a compounding element. For example, “to
flick it” meant “to go to the movies”; “to book it” was “to study”; “to pig it”
was our equivalent of today’s “to pig out”; “to juke it” was “to dance” (or “to
juke,” which meant specifically “to do the current dances of the moment”). Frequently “up” was added as an intensifier,
as in “to tube it up,: or to watch a lot of television. The locution was used indiscriminately to
make verb phrases out of any noun, even proper names. If your psych teacher’s name was Jones, “to
Jones it” meant either “to study for Jones’s class” or “to go to [his class].” To go to Buena Vista (the location of the
closest girls’ school) was “to BV it.”
It also meant, by implication, that one was dating a girl from that
school that weekend.
[It’s
not quite the same as simply using a noun as a verb like “to fragrance,” of
course. But back half a century ago, we
thought it was hipper!]
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