Chunks again... Naturally

Check out this phrase: I'm in way over my head. In Spanish it means "esto me queda muy grande". As you can see, the direct word-for-word translation doesn't make much sense, which is an obvious symptom that the expression in question is an idiom. So far so good, right? After all, mastering idioms is a hallmark of advanced fluency. Nevertheless, many learners tend to skip what I regard as a critical phase in the process of integrating a new expression: the prep work.

Yes. Using an idiom effectively requires a bit of behind-the-scenes rehearsal before it's ever spoken in live conversation. What is it that you should do to prepare for the big moment? Well, here is a simple breakdown:

• Identify the function that the expression performs. In this case, the idiom I've chosen (I'm in way over my head) describes a scenario in which someone is not capable of handling a complex situation.

• Master the transitions from one word to the next. Speakers who find a particular expression difficult to articulate tend to play it safe and (subconsciously) opt for a simpler phrase. So... they never use the longer idioms.

• Repeat the expression till you are blue in the face. That way you gain the kind of self-confidence that you need.

When the circumstances arise you'll recognize the pattern, you'll reach into your bag of tricks, pull the idiom and say it as a chunk. I can't stress this enough. As a chunk. Get it? As a chunk. Imagine it is not a phrase but a very long word:  I'm in way over my head. 

When I say "till you are blue in the face" I mean, "till you nail it". Obviously that takes a lot of practice. How much practice? Well... A lot. Amongst us, language nerds, there is a great example of the kind of commitment I'm talking about. Just listen to this weather man confidently pronounce the longest place name in Europe.

Do you think you can say that name without some extremely serious practice? I don't think so.

In order to pronounce long sequences effectively it is necessary to practice consonant clusters and transitions. It applies to place both names and idioms. First you practice an expression with a specific subject: I'm in way over my head. Eventually, you'll be able to use different subjects and say she's in way over her head or they're in way over their heads, etc. Then you may even consider similar phrases and jump to a synonymous expression. In our particular case, a very similar idiom is I'm out of my depth. It has a similar ring to it, doesn't it? When you say that the situation you find yourself in is "difficult and dangerous", rather than "hard to handle", you can say that: I'm out of my depth here. Again, before you try it out, you should ensure that you can deliver that line without a hitch. Out of your depth. Practice it over and over again. Out of your depth. Out of your depth...

That is, my dear students, the surefire way to incorporate idioms: one at a time. Identify the circumstances that call for a particular expression and then articulate it as if it were a word. Remember to say them without thinking about the actual words that are involved. And forget about the grammar too. You're not supposed to be a mechanic here. You only want to drive the car. Okay? Leave grammar and syntax for us, teachers, or else you might find yourself in a situation in which you'll definitely feel the need to say: I'm in way over my head.

The art of (mis)quoting

We know that, contrary to popular belief, Bogart never said Play it again, Sam and, of course, Conan Doyle didn't give Sherlock Holmes the famous line Elementary, my dear Watson. Rather surprisingly, though, those two misquotes have proved to have true staying power, probably because they respectively encapsulate the essence of an iconic scene and the relationship between two beloved characters.

I suppose that trying to pass for a verbatim quote what is only an approximation to what someone else said is a habit we all know too well, which is why we should always let a listener know if we are repeating someone else's words or improvising a version of what they said. So, here are your options.

When you are absolutely positive that the words you are about to utter are the exact same words somebody else said you can use these two expressions:

• And he said, quote unquote, "I shall never eat chickpeas again"
• And he said, and I'm quoting, "I shall never eat chickpeas again"

However, if you are unsure as to the accuracy of the quote you should acknowledge your uncertainty. Here are three expressions you can use:

• And he said "I shall never eat chickpeas again", or words to that effect
• And he said, I'm paraphrasing, "I shall never eat chickpeas again"
• And, if memory serves, he said: "I won't eat chickpeas ever again"

Christopher Hitchens (1949-2011), an absolute master orator, was able to effortlessly retrieve correct quotes from memory. Most of us, mere mortals, do not possess that dazzling ability. So... unless your memory is perfect you may want to use some of the above expressions every once in a while lest a passing reporter take you at face value and quote you saying the wrong thing. By the way, if you are unsure as to what language mastery looks like you should probably take a look at the clip below. I find it quite impressive. Do you?

Vocal fry

The English language does not lack in terms which designate that most admirable human virtue: the ability to not panic in the midst of a crisis or in the face of impending doom. In fact, British culture is packed with phrases that bolster the 'stiff upper lip' archetype. The über-memeable 'Keep calm and carry on' and the old 'mustn't grumble' come to mind. Yet, there’s a delightful irony in the fact that English speakers should rely on French adjectives like nonchalant, blasé, and insouciant precisely to describe such a distinctively English attitude. At any rate, I believe the underlying message is clear: if you are English you keep your cool. And keeping your cool is a good thing.

I suspect that behind the triumph of the word cool hides a stereotype about "hot-blooded cultures" in which people prefer passion and emotions over self-restraint and stoicism. I am actually cool with that (pun totally intended) even if I come from one of those "passionate cultures".

I understand that level-headedness is exactly the kind of temperament you want when it comes to air pilots, brain surgeons and professional sharpshooters. No problem there. Some people, however, believe that being cool is not good enough. They want to take their attitude to the proverbial "next level" by displaying what I like to call the I-don´t-give-a-hoot attitude, with which they seek to signal not necessarily skepticism or stoicism, but rather indifference or even apathy. The subtext to whatever they say is not that they don't mind a setback, but that they just don't care about it. And while that brand of disdain has come to be expressed in many different ways, I think the infamous vocal fry has to be the most annoying of them all.

What is vocal fry? Simply put, it consists in the tendency to lower one's voice down to the deepest possible degree, which makes the vibration of the vocal cords quite noticeable. The video below contains a few examples.

As I said above, vocal fry is supposed to signal detachment, lack of interest or sheer indifference. You probably know what I'm referring to. It's that I'm too-cool-for-school approach to oral interaction which so many millennials and Gen-Zers appear to love. This phenomenon is, by no means, exclusive to young people. Noted linguist Noam Chomsky, who is now 97 years old, has been using vocal fry for decades. And he is not an isolated example. I remember how Benedict Cumberbatch used vocal fry in the series Sherlock (2010-2017) and I believe it was a good decision, since his portrayal of Sherlock Holmes did give off a certain worldweary vibe. So, no. The vocal fry phenomenon is not new nor is it limited to young women and yet that is the stereotype. In the minds of many native speakers the standard vocal fry user is a Kim Kardashian lookalike. Don't take my word for it. Prominent feminist author Naomi Wolf has gone so far as to explicitly ask women to drop that irritating habit. Of course, there has been some backlash from other feminists who denounce the implicit double standards in her advice. After all, men are not usually called out on that same habit. I think that theirs is a valid objection. At the same time. I also understand public perception. Because men already have deeper voices, their vocal fry is less conspicuous and, therefore, less surprising. Of course, that doesn't mean that women use it more often than men. It just highlights the fact that amongst women it is more noticeable. So, I suppose I understand both Ms. Wolf and her critics.

That said, I personally find vocal fry beyond exasperating (both in men and women) and agree with all those experts who point out its evident drawbacks. It undermines the authority of your voice and makes you sound insecure or artificial. Still, I admit that it is not a matter of right or wrong. Pretty much like the valley girl accent or the notorious uptalk, vocal fry is a phenomenon that bothers some and elicits utter indifference from the rest. I just thought you should be aware of its existence. Just remember that, for better or worse, your speaking style always has an impact on your listeners.

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N.B. Yes I am aware that the not-so-subtle sexism of the term "valley girl accent", but I'm afraid that's what it is called.

Humor

"If you're in a vehicle and are traveling at the speed of light and you turn your lights on, would they do anything?" That's a killer one-liner by the great Steven Wright. In this video you can hear the man deliver that line with his signature deadpan style. Liked it? Okay. Now check out this one by Tim Vine: "I started running a dating app for chickens, but it's a real struggle trying to make hens meet". The first joke relies on a concept taken from the field of Physics (i.e. nothing can move faster than the speed of light). The second one refers to an idiom (i.e. to make ends meet). I find them both hilarious. Do you?

It is no secret that humor doesn't translate well. Its success often depends on many factors: connotations, phonetics, local conventions, context, delivery style... which means that a foreigner who can appreciate a joke in real time has already acquired a high level of proficiency in the target language. Interestingly enough, that skill is partly learnable. Take, for example, the structure "X, Y and Z walk into a bar". It usually mentions an incongruous group of people (e. g. an astronaut, a cowboy and a rabbi) and signals that the person speaking is going to tell a joke. It functions much like the old "once upon a time", which lets a listener know they about to hear a fairy tale. In the "metajoke" below, Barack Obama exploits the old convention of the three peculiar individuals to great effect:

Other conventions have to do with the format of some jokes. Thus, an advanced learner should at least be aware of several popular "templates": the chicken-crossing the road jokes, the knock-knock jokes, the yo mama jokes, etc.). But still. It cannot be denied that "getting a joke" requires a lot on the part of the listener and, as usual, nothing beats massive exposure. That is why I recommend that you watch someone like Stuart Francis. He is a Canadian comedian who specializes in that quintessentially North American brand of humor: one-liners and quick wacky jokes with a short intro and not much in the way of context. His jokes put your understanding skills to the test, but at least they are short and allow for a simple "analysis".  Give it a try and you'll see what I mean:

If you enjoy these jokes your English level is definitely pretty high. Congratulations. And if you still struggle to understand the laughs, you know what to do: keep watching stand-up comedians, sitcoms, late night shows, etc. Eventually you'll realize that references will start to sound familiar, puns will suddenly make sense and you'll find reasons to break into laughter. All you need es massive exposure.

I'll leave you with a joke by an absolute mater of one-liners, the late Mitch Hedberg: The best thing about escalators is that they cannot break. They can only become stairs. It is, in itself, a vocabulary lesson. Don't you think?

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N.B. I know I have only referenced American humor. It doesn't mean that I don't like the British sense of humor. On the contrary, I actually love it, but the truth is it would be too complicated to even try and address the topic of British humor in a short post such as this. Still, if you are curious about the multiple differences between British and American humor you can take a look at this clip one. It is quite insightful.

Eloquence

I love Raye's music. Seriously. I believe she's the best news to have come out of the United Kingdom in quite a while. Her style is fresh, exciting and she definitely knows how to write lyrics that linger in your head long after the song is over. That said, I think it would be great if she worked a little on her speaking skills. Just listen to this clip:

"Also at the same time, yeah, like, do you know what I mean? Like, you know..."

There's nothing wrong with using fillers and discourse markers. They help us avoid awkward silences and play for time while we look for the right words. But problems start to pile up when a sentence contains more fillers than meaningful terms. So, let's forget about Raye for a second and look at these two random examples:

• "I was, sort of, you know, kind of, like... tired"
• "And I was, like... wow".

Do they sound familiar? Those phrases capture the inarticulacy of so many speakers who fail to craft such simple sentences as I was tired or I was awestruck. On the other end of the spectrum we come across someone like Eileen Gu, a record-breaking freeskier, who recently answered a question like this:

Even though she uses the term like an inordinate number of times and ends her answer with a perfect example of the infamous vocal fry, she is without a doubt a gifted speaker. Within 60 seconds she manages to display a perfect mixture of lexical resources, which includes the following:

• advanced vocabulary (pensive, revere, analytical lens, neuroplasticity, egotistical)
• a simple expresions (I spend a lot of time in my own head)
• a thought-provoking scenario (my 8-year-old me would revere who I am)
• an effective comparison (tinkering like a scientist)
• colloquialisms (flex, are you kidding?)

Both Raye and Eileen Gu are highly accomplished women who excel in their respective fields, but it would be preposterous to state that their speaking skills are comparable. As English learners, we should pay attention to the way competent speakers talk so we can borrow from them as much as we can. Articulate speakers remind us of the immense range of possibilities that a language has to offer. They help us understand our choices and venture into uncharted territories. So, now you know what to do: hone your metalinguistic awareness and give serious thought to your own communication skills or, as Eileen Gu would put it, "apply an analytical lens to your speaking process". It definitely pays off.

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N.B. Some may argue that comparing a less articulate interview with an inspired one is unfair. And that is a valid point. However, these clips are intended solely to illustrate the spectrum of eloquence. Remember that this blog is a study of the English language, not a critique of the people speaking it.

Beware of social marking

Once upon a time, in the late 10th century, Ælfric of Eynsham, a prolific Anglo-Saxon scholar described the creation of the first two humans in these terms:

God gesceop þa æt fruman twegen men, wer and wif

 In modern English it reads like this:

    God created then at the beginning two persons, a male and a female

You don't need to be a trained philologist to realize that in the 10th century the word men meant persons (or human beings). Isn't it interesting? Back then, if you wanted to refer to a "male human", the standard word was wer, which is still present in the compound werewolf and is connected to the Latin term vir. The original meaning of wif was simply "female human" (and sometimes "wife"). In fact, the very word woman comes from wif-man: literally "female-person". Eventually, of course, the meaning of the word man changed. In other Germanic languages, however, it evolved differently, which is why modern German uses it as a gender-neutral pronoun (man) that refers to an unspecific subject: man spricht deutsch means, quite simply, German is spoken. But that is a different story.

There is nothing shocking or new about any of the above. Linguists have known all this for centuries. So why am I discussing it now? Well, because today is International Women's Day and I think it is a great opportunity to stop and consider the relationship between language and thoughts. Some argue that, when it comes to considering a person's thinking process, words are nothing short of cosmetic. To that I counter that words help us shape our thoughts. Siri Hustvedt once remarked "words matter because they alter perception" (or words to that effect). Whether we find it logical or not, the fact is that speakers react differently when labels are changed. A case in point can be found in U.S. politics. The labels Affordable Care Act and Obamacare designate the very same federal law, but elicit radically different reactions from voters. I don't think I need to explain why.

And that leads us to a phenomenon that is usually called "social marking". Social marking (you guessed it) is the process by which a speech community imposes sociocultural assumptions onto words. As far as gender is concerned, the most obvious examples of social marking is the proclivity to ascribe a particular gender to a particular job. When we hear words such as plumber or thief we overwhelmingly picture a man. When we come across terms like nurse or flight attendant we tend to think of a woman. Needless to say, those four words are gender-neutral. The marking, therefore, is not grammatical, but rather psychological. I think we can all learn to reverse that situation by mistrusting our own impulses even when reality does reinforce our initial assumption (most flight attendants are indeed female and most thieves happen to be men).

My personal view is that we've come a long way since the days when the idea of a female surgeon was literally inconceivable. Proof of that is the fact that whenever I come across terms like judge, architect or astronaut I honestly don't have a clear picture as to the gender of the person in question. I suspect that this inability to ascribe a particular gender to a profession is actually backed up by reality. I would say that it means we're making progress. Wouldn't you?

Efficiency and clarity

In his quirky prose book Juan de Mairena, Spanish poet Antonio Machado evoked a fictional scene where a teacher asks a pupil to give a literary polish to a ridiculously convoluted phrase. The phrase in question was the consuetudinary occurrences which transpire upon the thoroughfare [my translation]. A clever student was quick to offer a "poetic" version of that atrocity: What happens in the street, said the kid. By means of such an unlikely anecdote, Machado sought to point out the fact that efficient expression should dispense with unnecessary flourishes and stick to the its substance.  Literary language is not about throwing together fancy words.

I mention this because experience has shown me that many C1 hopefuls tend to be catastrophically misguided. They seem to fall for the myth that hyper-accurate vocabulary is the only hallmark of a pro. Well... I regret to report that it is not. A certain degree of accuracy is obviously needed, but an English learner shouldn't depend solely on lexical precision to show their advanced competency. In fact, an accumulation of unusual terms (however accurate they might be) is often counterproductive. On his late night show, Stephen Colbert, customarily proves this very point during every introduction of his "Meanwhile" segment, which typically consists in an extended metaphor packed with infrequent terms that  (to the uninitiated ears) sound like utter gibberish. Just watch the first 42 seconds of the video below and you'll realize what I mean.

What we, advanced learners, ought to aim for is range and efficiency. And yes. Oftentimes efficiency is closely linked to the ability to be succinct. Compare these two phrases:

• an experience that you have only one time in your life (B2)
• a once-in-a-lifetime experience (C1)

But conciseness alone doesn't necessarily entail efficiency. Sometimes the expression that produces the desired effect is actually longer than the direct simple one. This is particularly true when we want to paint a vivid picture. Compare the following sentences:

• It's easy (A1)
• It's not rocket science (C1)

They clearly mean the same thing, but the impact on the listener is noticeably different. In this specific case efficiency relies on the speaker's ability to use a conventional expression (rocket science) and, therefore, to sound natural. Compare now the different ways you can say that something or someone is "tough":

• That's a tough needle to thread
• That's a tough pill to swallow
• She's tough as nails
• She's a tough cookie
• It's like pulling teeth
• It's an uphill battle

Being efficient is all about "getting the job done" without unnecessary words. Sometimes you need an accurate term ("She castled kingside"). On other occasions, you just focus on relaying the message in a way that is interesting, funny, spontaneous, exotic or simply appropriate. Don't get too hung up about the mot juste. Using the perfect word can indeed give you a wonderful sense of achievement, but it can also turn out to be rather pointless. If you don't believe me, ask an average native speaker about the exact difference between a washer and a gasket or even the meaning of mot juste.