Ok, I’ll post some words soon. But indulge me – the last of the summer, from a bike ride from Bristol to Lands End (in the teeth of a hurricane-related gale, I might add).
Reading about the proposed Body Shop takeover, I came across not one but two words with which I am not altogether familiar:
‘Complimentarity’? I mean, you can see what they’re driving at, but is that actually a word? Well yes, apparently. Commonly used in physics: “a theoretical and an experimental result of quantum mechanics, [which] holds that objects have complementary properties which cannot all be observed or measured simultaneously.” Less commonly in everyday life, where it is used to describe “a relationship or situation in which two or more different things improve or emphasize each other’s qualities.”
Ok, now, ‘naturality’? Surely not. Well, again, it’s not as brand spanking new as I’d been thinking. Quite the opposite: generally described as ‘obsolete’ – a shred of late medieval English which failed to survive into the modern era. Until today! Naturality is back!
En passant, does a journey have pillars?
Watching Kenneth Clark’s Civilisation last night, and Shakespeare came up. Anyone who wields words for a living can only look on in awe…
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Three big comms lessons to take away from last Thursday:
- Traditional media seems defunct, over here at least. The big poster campaigns of yesteryear are history. Even party political broadcasts no longer seem to play much of a part. ‘Broadcast’, per se, looks obsolete. Today’s action is online, and tightly-targeted.
- Strong, simple messages can still engage. “That’s what I’ve always said…”
- But beware hostages to fortune. For the many, not the few is immune from ‘news’; Strong but stable may sound potent, but it’s terribly vulnerable to ‘events, dear boy, events’.
A recent article reporting a restaurant’s threat to sue someone for a poor TripAdvisor review set me grumping:
Why would customers who have not been unimpressed – ie, who have been impressed – be threatened by lawyers? A GCSE student would be taken to task for tripping themselves up with their own double negatives. And this is a professional journalist with his own byline on a major national paper.
It did set me thinking though. I remember being taught that a double negative was inherently and invariably an error. The two negatives ‘cancel each other’; they are therefore redundant, and should be removed.
But how about…
The performer has turned up, the crowd are baying for fun, but she doesn’t feel too hot. Shivering sweats, dicky tummy, achy joints: doesn’t really want to go on at all. But these people have come a long way, paid their money: she has responsibilities to her fans. She can’t not go on.
Does this mean the same as ‘She can go on’? Clearly not. The double negative expresses something quite different: something more akin to ‘she must go on.’
I suspect the unyielding prohibition on double negatives shares its roots with the equally wrong-headed insistence on avoiding splitting infinitives: a grounding in Latin, and the attempt to force English into its hard, logical, almost algebraic straitjacket. As misguided as it is snobby. We are not Ancient Romans, and our language doesn’t work quite the same way.
Mind you, doesn’t not mean a Daily Mirror journo shouldn’t not be able to cope with the rules it doesn’t not have though. Do it?