DAVID MURDOCK COLUMN: On words and how they change
Words change over time, in spelling as well as meaning. That shouldn’t be too much of a surprise for people who have been listening to the language for any length of time. Mostly, we don’t even notice it — it’s only when a word changes drastically that we do pay mind.
It’s the spelling part that most folks do notice. We’re going through a time when spellings of common words are changing quickly. For example, this morning I read a word in print that wasn’t spelled “correctly.” It mentioned those little cakes with a hole in the middle. Doughnuts. But it was spelled “donuts.” That’s not the “correct” spelling, but it’s more complicated than that.
Most dictionaries I consulted listed “donut” as a variant spelling. The Merriam-Webster’s website has a section titled “Words at Play.” It confirms my observation, in almost the same words, explaining that this spelling “has appeared in enough written sources […] that it has become an accepted spelling.”
Frankly, spelling it as “donut” doesn’t bother me at all. I’m fairly certain that “donut” will be the accepted spelling of the word in 50 years. That’s just how fluid the English language is. Words change, and that’s how they change.
The word “funny” is another example. Today, it has an accepted meaning as “peculiar” or “odd,” in addition to its primary meaning as “humorous,” but that has not always been the case. Lately, I’ve been reading some of Agatha Christie’s “Miss Marple” mysteries. In one of them, the older characters actually discuss that the word’s meaning has been changing to include “peculiar,” and they don’t seem to like it. In another one of the books, published only a few years later, one of the younger characters uses the word “funny” to mean “peculiar” without any comment at all. That suggests that no reader would misunderstand the meaning by that time.
Again, words change. A minor adjustment to spelling (like “donut”) doesn’t much irritate me, nor does an understandable shift in meaning (like “funny” for “peculiar”). What does irritate me is when words are either misspelled in funny ways — both “ha-ha funny” and “peculiar funny” — or the shift in meaning is so drastic as to mean the opposite.
Lately, I’ve noticed the influence of “autocorrect” features of various kinds on professional, published writing. Some are common, like “desert” (an arid landscape) for “dessert” (the sweet treat at the end of a meal). What’s really “funny” about those words is that the verb “desert” (as in “to abandon”) is pronounced almost exactly the same as the noun “dessert!” A minor shift in stress, from one syllable to another, changes the meaning … and we’re completely fine with that fact! It confuses no one.
That people commonly misspell words or phrases that sound alike when pronounced doesn’t usually surprise me — it’s simply “funny ha-ha.” However, I have noticed some examples lately in articles published on the internet that are “funny peculiar.” There were two examples this week that did surprise me.
In one article, the writer used the phrase “brass tax” when “brass tacks” was meant (as in the common phrase, “let’s get down to brass tacks”). I read once somewhere that the phrase originated with the upholstery business, but I cannot confirm it. What does seem obvious is that the writer had heard “brass tacks” spoken and had heard it as “brass tax.”
Another that really had me in stitches was a writer who used “currier” for “courier.” That one can only be explained by an autocorrect feature. “Currier” — meaning either someone who curries leather or someone who curries a horse’s coat with (obviously) a currycomb — is just not a common word today. The only time I can think of it being used in that sense is in the phrase, “to curry favor.” The writer meant “courier” as in “a person who carries messages or packages.” Autocorrect features on electronic devices don’t make a distinction in meaning, only in spelling. That one was “funny,” though, in both senses.
As I said, I’m only really irritated when a word’s meaning is shifted to its complete opposite. The most common example I see these days is “infamous.” For some reason, it has become common to use “infamous” to mean “really famous,” but that’s not what it means. At all. “Infamous” means that someone or something is well-known for something bad, something really bad.
The first time I recall seeing “infamous” used in the sense of “really famous” was on a Sunday morning in 1999 in North Carolina — that’s how memorable it was. I was waiting to be seated at a restaurant and saw an advertisement, which read something like, “Try our infamous Sunday brunch buffet!” I remarked to the people with me, “What? Did they poison someone with their brunch?” Just last week, I saw a really famous celebrity referred to as “infamous.” That celebrity does not awe me, but she is not infamous in any way.
It’s so easy to make some types of errors when writing. In fact, I made one while writing this column. There was one word I realized was misspelled in a “funny” way only when I edited. And I had to look at it more than once before I realized it! Errors happen. That’s why good human editors — not autocorrect features — are invaluable.
David Murdock is an English instructor at Gadsden State Community College. He can be contacted at murdockcolumn@yahoo.com. The opinions reflected are his own.
This article originally appeared on The Gadsden Times: David Murdock on the changing meaning of words
