ur-text

Like lots of previous words of the week, I heard this on Kermode & Mayo’s Take, in reference to new horror film ‘Substance’ (which sounds awesome). An ur-text is the original or earliest version of a text, the foundation that later versions are based on. The term’s often used in literature, history and religious studies to describe a document that’s thought to be the source of all later editions, translations or interpretations. The concept of an ur-text is important in academic circles, because seeing the original can help us understand how ideas or stories have evolved over time.

Now, etymology. The ‘text’ bit of ‘ur-text’ is (hopefully) obvious. But what about the ‘ur’? Well, it’s a German prefix meaning ‘original’ or ‘primitive’. So ‘ur-text’ literally means ‘original text’. Why is it German? Because German literary theory, especially in the 19th and 20th centuries, has had a significant impact on the study of texts. For example, it’s influenced concepts like authenticity, interpretation and textual analysis, and scholars like Wolfgang Iser and Hans-Georg Gadamer have increased the term’s popularity in literary criticism. It’s also a concise way to refer to a complex idea which might need a longer explanation in English (although I think ‘OG text’ would work just as well, but maybe that’s why I’m not a literary academic).

A good example of an ur-text is Shakespeare’s First Folio (1623), the first collected edition of his works. The First Folio contains 36 plays, divided into three categories: comedies, histories and tragedies. It includes iconic works like Hamlet, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet, A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Othello. Some plays, like The Tempest and Twelfth Night, were published for the first time in the Folio. Without it, many of Shakespeare’s works might have been lost, and generations of schoolkids would have nothing to moan about.

The First Folio was compiled by two of Shakespeare’s BFFs and fellow actors, John Heminges and Henry Condell. They wanted to preserve his work for future generations as many of the plays hadn’t been formally published, and only existed in scripts or incomplete versions. Well done, John and Hazza.

Around 750 copies of The First Folio were originally printed, and there are about 235 in existence today, most of which are in libraries and museums around the world. One copy of The First Folio sold for $9.98 million at auction in 2020. It was bought by Paul Allen, co-founder of Microsoft, and holds the record for the most expensive literary work sold at auction.

curfew

This is another one I’ve shamelessly stolen from the Wittertainment podcast (which is technically about films, but lucky for me also features a lot of etymology, generally courtsey of Sir Simon of Mayo). You know what a curfew is – that thing your parents gave you which meant you had to be home by a certain time (you know, back when we were allowed to go outside and do stuff). ‘Curfew’ comes from an Anglo-French word, coverfeu, which itself comes from an Old French word cuevrefeu. This literally means ‘cover fire’ (as in to cover a fire in a fireplace to put it out, not the stuff that soldiers do when they’re advancing on a battlefield).

The story is that back in the Middle Ages, houses were mainly made of wood and straw, and other super-flammable things. And, due to the fact that electricity wouldn’t appear for another few hundred years, obviously everyone had candles for light and fires to keep warm. Which was a bit of a recipe for disaster (see The Great Fire of London*). To make sure that no one fell asleep without putting their fire out, Alfred the Great or William the Conqueror (no one’s quite sure who came up with it) put a law in place which meant someone rang a curfew bell at 8pm to remind everyone to do just that, and also blow out any candles, put out their pipes/ciggies, etc. Willie the Conq also used the curfew bell to make sure that everyone was back in their house by 8, to stamp out any pesky English people getting together after dark to talk rebellion.

The curfew law was rePEALed (bad bell joke, sorry) in 1103 by Henry I. But you can still find a few curfew bells round the UK, like this one in Leadhills, Scotland.

*Interesting fact alert: despite the fact that the GFOL, as no one calls it, destroyed around 70,000 of the 80,000 homes in London at the time, only six people are known to have died.