This week: One more look at what makes a word, this time from an aural perspective. Then the footnotes and a little trivia about oranges to get us out. Here we go.
We know what a word is and we know that letters are what make a word on the page, but how about in conversation? How do we know that the sentence "How are you?" is actually three separate words even though most of us say something far closer to "Howreya"? (1) The answer, in a word, is phonemes. (2) Here's our good friend Wikipedia:
In phonology and linguistics, a phoneme /ˈfoʊniːm/ is a unit of sound that distinguishes one word from another in a particular language.
Clear as mud, right? Basically, phonemes are not-too-dissimilar to the phonics you may have studied in grade school. So, vowels like /a/ might have two or three sounds, while a lot of consonants, like /b/, have just the one. That is obviously a super-simple description and the truth is that phonemes (in English) only mostly, kinda-sorta, adhere to the alphabet letters we use to represent them. That same /a/ for example, can represent about a half-dozen different phonemes depending on the word chosen and accent used by the speaker. (3)
But, when it comes to speech, that's just the beginning. When someone talks to us, our brains sort through the sounds and assemble them into units of meaning almost instantaneously. In other words, your brain hears the phonemes k-a-t, realizes that when spoken in that order and blended together, they represent a unit of meaning equal to "four-legged beast of Satan." (4)
Of course, we don't speak in single phonemes. Instead we blend phonemes together to create words. So the c-a-t phonemes becomes the spoken word "cat." But that brings up another problem: is "cat" then one single phoneme? No. Because we recognize that the combined, merged sounds are used together to form a word. This act of identification is so strong that it transcends the standard way of saying a word. For example, if you drag the word out (I don't know why you're doing this, but for the sake of the example) and turn it into caaaaat, the listener still understands what you're saying. Likewise, if you insert a non-standard phoneme into the word, for example, kyat, people might take a second, but there's a good chance they will understand your meaning. (5) So, at this point, we can say that phonemes put together in a recognizable pattern equals a word.
So, the question then, is, how do we know where one word stops and another begins? The truth is, we really don't. Between blends, merged sounds, and dropped sounds, figuring out what is a word, what is a phrase, and what is a non-word vocalized unit of meaning, like "uh" or "eh" can be a difficult process, even for two people speaking the same language. Add in regional variations, accents, dialects, and second-language difficulties and it can become difficult.
Ever read the Harry Potter books? Specifically the British editions? When I first read them, I hadn't had much exposure to British accents (I'm American) except for the exaggerated ones found in Monty Python. And, in the later books, when the character of Tonks was introduced, she routinely greeted Harry with something like "wotcher." When the movies came out I was genuinely curious to hear how that was supposed to be said. Maybe that would let me finally figure out just what actual words she was supposed to be saying. In the end, it didn't really help. I finally just googled it and found out that it was a probable corruption of "what are you doing."
But the point is, we only recognize words as words because of repeated exposure and examination. (6) Our brains are wired to recognize and remember patterns. Speech works because we recognize patterns of sounds in the world around us and we remember what meaning they have in a given context. Over time, we evolved the ability to both create sound and to control what kind of sounds we made. This became speech. Eventually, as we assigned meaning to individual units of sound (phonemes) or combinations of sound (words) we began to talk. Now if we could just get a bit better at listening, we might actually be able to communicate.
Next week, we start to get out of the basics by tackling the biggest word we use to talk about words of all: grammar! See you then.
Footnotes
I mean, if you're American. But, regardless of your individual accent, there's a good chance you don't ever articulate "how are you." Instead you might end up with "howzit," or "howaryaz," or even "howzza."
Sorry, not sorry.
Again, if you ever find yourself bored at a linguistics conference, scream "phonemes are just fancy phonics" at the top of your lungs. Then maybe run. Fast.
D-o-g represents a unit of meaning equal to "the goodest good boy there ever was." Trust me, I'm an expert.
A lot of understanding is, of course, due to context. If I'm pointing at a cat and screaming "there's a crat!" you're generally going to get what I'm saying. As above, you might question why I'm saying it, but that's a whole different conversation.
One more example. When I was in school, I had a classmate named "Leigh Ann." For years I thought her name was "Leeanne." It wasn't until I actually saw her name written down that I realized it was two separate words. But once I knew that, I heard it as two words whenever her name was called. Funny how brains work.
Trivially Yours
I bought a small tangerine tree the other day. The exact kind of tangerine tree is called a Ponkan in Japanese, which my dictionary tells me means, "Citrus reticulata," or, wait for it, "Ponkan orange." It's a nice little tree. But I got curious about its name because I couldn't identify the "pon."
See, most types of oranges in Japan end in "kan." It means, simply, "citrus." But for all the other types of oranges, there is a kanji in front of that that gives some idea of where it came from. Mikan is literally "nectar + citrus." Iyokan is named after the province in which it was traditionally grown (which is in modern day Ehime-ken).
So, what does the "pon" in "ponkan" mean? Based on the kanji spelling (which is considered archaic and not used anymore) it indicates that the ponkan is from India. And now you know.
Stay curious,
J