retronym

A retronym is a word for something that’s been named or renamed to differentiate it from a newer or modified version. They’re usually created by adding an adjective or qualifier to the original term. If you’re currently saying ‘Huh?’ and losing the will to live, let’s have a look at some examples which should hopefully make it clear:

• ‘acoustic guitar’ is a retronym which appeared after electric guitars – before they were just called ‘guitars’

• ‘film camera’ turned up after digital cameras were invented – before they were just ‘cameras’

• ‘landline phone’ is a retronym that appeared after we all got mobiles – before they were just, well, I’m sure you get it now.

As you’ve probably realised from the above, retronyms usually appear when an advancement or change in technology or society means the original term becomes ambiguous.

‘Retronym’ is a relatively young term, and was coined by American linguist Frank Mankiewicz in a magazine article in the early 1980s. It’s made up of two parts:

• ‘retro’ – you know what retro means, and

• ‘nym’ which comes from the Greek word ‘onoma’, meaning ‘name’ or ‘word’.

So it basically means ‘a name or word that looks back’.

The word ‘retronym’ follows the same style as other linguistic terms which you may or may not remember from school – like ‘synonym’ (a word that means the same as another word, like ‘big’ and ‘large’ – ‘syn’ being a Greek word for ‘together’ or ‘with’), or antonym (the opposite of a synonym, with the ‘ant’ bit coming from ‘anti’, which is Greek for ‘opposite’ or ‘against’).

tchotchke

Tchotchke, which is pronounced chahch-ke, is a Yiddish word that refers to small decorative items, trinkets or knick-knacks. So that’s things that look pretty or are sentimental, but are basically useless (AKA things my flat is full of). Tchotchkes are also often quite cheap and perhaps a little bit tacky, like souvenir keyrings or fridge magnets (I also have loads of those), for example. The term can also be used to describe a collection of these types of items.

As I mentioned, tchotchke is from Yiddish, the Jewish language that developed in central and eastern Europe. It comes from the Slavic word ‘čačka’ or ‘čača’, which simply means a small object or toy (and I don’t think is anything to do with poop). It’s actually a fairly well-known word in the States (I came across it in an article about recruitment while doing some research for, well, an article about recruitment). It probably made its way there via Jewish immigrants in the early 20th century and has since become more widely used in American English over time.

There are lots of other, thankfully easier to spell, words in English that we also get from Yiddish. Like:

• chutzpah: an adjective (describing word) for someone who’s got lots of confidence (possibly too much) – ‘she’s got a lot of chutzpah considering how many tchotchkes she has in her flat’

• klutz – a noun (person, place or thing) for a clumsy or awkward person – ‘she’s such a klutz, she fell over all her tchotchkes’

• schlep – a verb (doing word) meaning to carry or haul something (or yourself) with difficulty – ‘she schlepped those tchotchkes all the way from London’

• schmooze – a verb meaning to suck up to someone: ‘she was schmoozing the tchotchke sellers to try to get some freebies’

• schmutz – dirt or filth: ‘her tchotchkes are covered in schmutz’

• shmaltz – an adjective for something that’s excessively sentimental or metaphorically cheesy (also, rendered chicken or goose fat): ‘her tchotchkes are so shmaltzy’.

cakewalk

I was watching an American show the other day (‘Alaska Daily’, if you’re interested – well worth a watch) and someone described something as ‘a cakewalk’. Which got me thinking – where does the term come from?

Just in case you’re not sure what a cakewalk is (as I think it’s a fairly American term), it’s used to refer to something that’s easy to do, like ‘that exam was a cakewalk’ (a statement I’ve never said, ever). The more British alternative is probably ‘a walk in the park’.

After a bit of research, it turns out ‘cakewalk’ has some murky origins, which may well make it a problematic term today. In the 19th century, African-American slaves used to perform a dance on Southern plantations which mocked the stiff waltz-style dance moves of their white enslavers. Slave owners saw this and, apparently missing the point entirely, went on to hold dance competitions at so-called ‘plantation parties’. Slaves would wear their smartest clothes and perform these dances with the best being rewarded with cakes as prizes. Yuck. Over time, the dance itself became known as the ‘cakewalk’.

During the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the cakewalk moves – linked arms and high kicks – were adopted by a wider audience in the US and Europe, where they were often performed in vaudeville shows. It was also in the early 20th century that the term came to be used as a metaphor for any task or situation seen as easy or effortless. That wasn’t because winning a cakewalk was easy – it was because the dance steps were fluid and graceful, and the dancers’ hard work made it look like it was simple to do. This use was popularised by soldiers in World War I who used the term to describe battles or campaigns they won relatively easily.

botuliform

Shaped like a sausage. That’s what it means. Because the Latin word for ‘sausage’ is ‘botulus’. I can’t believe it’s not more popular. Now, you might be thinking that’s because it sounds like ‘botulism’, a rare but serious illness that attacks the body's nerves and causes difficulty breathing and muscle paralysis until your heart stops and you die. And you would be right.

SAUSAGE

Botulism was first identified in 1822 by someone called Justinus Kerner, a German poet and doctor. His doctoring was apparently better than his poetrying (the only one I can find is about a saw – yes, the things you chop wood with), and when lots of his patients started dying of a horrible illness that paralysed every part of their bodies, he realised they’d all been chowing down on cheap sausages. So he decided to call this new illness botulism, or ‘sausage disease’. He also rightly worked out that these sausages must contain a toxin which he called ‘botulinum’.

Fast forward to 1895 and a funeral in Belgium. Three of the guests at the wake drop dead from food poisioning (which cut out the middleman funeral-wise), and the culprit was found to be some ham they’d all eaten. The ham was sent to the University of Ghent where someone put it under a microscope and identified the bacteria whodunnit. And in a strange case of medical serendipity, it turns out the little bastards were sausage-shaped.

Turn that frown upside down with some biological warfare

Now called ‘clostridium botulinum’, this bacteria is so bloody lethal that it’s up there with anthrax as one hell of a biological weapon, causing almost instant death by paralysis. So surely it must be banned, right? Wrong. Because a little bit of instant paralysis can actually be a very good thing, at least if you’re a woman (or man – but mainly woman) of a certain age or a Kardashian. Because sausage poison has since been rebranded as, you’ve guessed it, botox. The world is a funny place, isn’t it?

PS: If you’ve ever wondered why sausages are sometimes called hotdogs, it’s because in 19th-century America many people believed sausages were made of, you’ve guessed it, dog meat. So they called them hotdogs. Simple, but gross. And hopefully not true today.

haywire

If something goes haywire, it means it works erratically, in a crazy way or doesn’t work at all. We often use it when we’re talking about technology. That might make you think the ‘wire’ of ‘haywire’ is something to do with power-type wires (that’s the official technical term), but you would in fact be wrong. ‘Haywire’ actually has a much older meaning to do with… wait for it… hay.

Well, I didn’t say it was exciting.

People who deal with hay (farmers, I guess?) use baling wire – a thin, flexible metal wire – to bind together (you’ve guessed it) bales of hay. It’s a bit like duct tape, in that it’s used for all different types of quick and dirty repairs (see ‘The Martian’ by Andy Weir – and the Matt Damon-starring film – for the wonders of duct tape: ‘Yes, of course duct tape works in a near-vacuum. Duct tape works anywhere. Duct tape is magic and should be worshiped.’ I wholeheartedly agree). Some of the repairs baling wire is used for include ‘wiring gates shut, mending a fence, holding rickety machinery together and stuff like that’. This led to the expression ‘haywire outfit’, which appeared around the turn of the century. It referred to New England logging camps which used cheap temporary fixes (often involving baling wire) for repairing equipment, rather than doing it properly. Eventually the word ‘haywire’ came to describe anything that was flimsy or patched together, and then for attempts to fix things that went wrong.

Unlike duct tape, hay wire also has a reputation for being tricky to manage. That’s because, much like Christmas lights, wired headphones and my jewellery, it can get itself in a complete tangle without any outside intervention. It was probably this that led to ‘haywire’ getting the meaning of ‘crazy’ or ‘out of control’.

boondocks

If someone lives out in the boondocks (also boonies), it means they live in the middle of nowhere. It’s generally an American term (the British equivalent is probably ‘the sticks’) and is usually used in a derogatory way to mean somewhere that’s considered backward or dull, AKA the basis for many a disturbing redneck-based horror film.

While boondocks might be a more popular word in the US of A, it didn’t originate there. It’s actually a term from Tagalog, the language that’s the base for Filipino, one of the official languages of the Philippines (obvs). That word is ‘bundok’, which means ‘mountains’. So how did it get from southeast Asia to Murica? Well, during the Philippine Revolution of 1896 to 1898 (when the Philippines fought for independence from 300 years of Spanish colonial rule), occupying American military forces adopted ‘bundok’, broadening its meaning to refer to the wild and remote country they found while fighting abroad. They then took it home with them as ‘boondocks’.

Tagalog is spoken as a first language by the Tagalog people (again, obvs), who make up a quarter of the population of the Philippines, and as a second language by almost everyone else who lives there. Taglish or Englog, a mixture of Tagalog and English is also widely spoken. In fact, it’s so prevalent that non-native speakers can be identified easily because they use pure Tagalog, whereas native speakers speak Taglish.

gerrymandering

Gerrymandering is the manipulation of boundaries of electoral districts or constituencies to swing an election a particular way. A good example is when the 19th-century Republican Party split the Dakota Territory into two states instead of one. That’s because each state got at least three electoral votes, regardless of the size of its population.

The OG gerrymander

Gerrymandering is named after one Elbridge Gerry, an American founding father, politician and diplomat who was the fifth vice president from 1813 until he died in 1814. He was also the governor of Massachusetts. During his second term, Republican-controlled legislation created district boundaries designed to increase the party’s control of state and national offices. This lead to some oddly shaped legislative areas, including one in Essex County (a political stronghold for the rival party, the Federalists) that a newspaper said looked like a ‘salamander’ (obvs). They named it the ‘Gerry-mander’ after Elbridge who signed the legislation that created it.

It worked as well – the weirdly shaped district elected three Democrat-Republicans that year. Previously the county had had five Federalist senators.

It’s worth pointing out that apparently Elbridge wasn’t happy about this suspect map redrawing, even if he did still sign the legislation that made it happen. According to his biographer he was ‘a nervous, birdlike little person’ with a stammer, and a habit of ‘contracting and expanding the muscles of his eye’ (I can’t even imagine what that actually looked like). This makes him sound like he might have been bullied into it, but he was no stranger to not signing stuff – in fact he refused to put his name to the American Constitution because he thought the Senate it created could become too tyrannical. So perhaps he would have thought twice about signing that district-redrawing bill if he’d known that two-hundred-and-something years later his name would have become synonymous with this type of cloak-and-dagger political jiggery pokery.

(Gerrymander is an example of an ‘eponym’ or a word named after a person. Check out this post for lots more eponyms, including leotard, diesel and bloomers. Sounds like a party…)

(DISCLAIMER: My knowledge of American politics is shockingly bad. So apologies in advance if any of my facts or terminology are wrong.)

moxie

A few weeks ago I was doing the Wordle, and I was down to the very last row. I had MO?IE. Quite obviously, the word was ‘movie’. But for reasons known only to my subconcious, I put in an ‘x’, for ‘moxie’. FAIL. But it turns out that what’s bad for my Wordle statistics is good for the word of the week as it got me thinking – where does ‘moxie’ come from?

If you’ve heard the word ‘moxie’ before, you’ve probably watched a lot of black and white Hollywood movies from the early 20th century. It’s an American word which means having the ability to face difficulty with spirit and courage, or ‘spunk’ (hee hee hee). It’s generally rather patronisingly applied to women who want to achieve things (bloody women), much like ‘feisty’.

So where does it come from? Well, ‘Moxie’ is actually a brand name for a bitter syrup (yum) first marketed as a medicine called ‘Moxie Nerve Food’ in the US in 1876. It was invented by one Augustin Thompson, a physician, businessman and philanthropist, who sold it as a cure for ‘paralysis, softening of the brain, nervousness and insomnia’ (I could do with some of that). Thompson claimed that he named the drink after a secret South American ingredient which was in turn named after his friend who discovered it. This super-secret medicinal magic was later found to be gentian root extract, a pretty common ingredient of tonics. In fact, it’s been used in these since at least 170BCE. It’s more likely Thompson took the name from a few different rivers and lakes in Maine where he was born. Lots of these have names that sound like ‘moxie’ which is similar to the word for ‘dark water’ in some Native American languages.

In an early example of some excellent viral marketing, people soon started using the word ‘moxie’ as a generic term for having extra pep in the face of adversity. This was due to the original drink’s claim that it could improve your nerve.

In 1884 Moxie rebranded as a soft drink alongside better-known teeth-rotters like Dr Pepper (I LOVE Dr Pepper but I only drink it about once a year as I can feel my teeth decaying with every sip). And you can still buy yourself a can of Moxie if you live in the States, although it’s now owned by the behemoth that is Coca-Cola. In fact, it was designated the official soft drink (because apparently that’s a thing) of the state of Maine in 2005.