Obscure Sorrows and Untranslatable Words
A recent BuzzFeed article tapped into what seems to be a bottomless well of enthusiasm surrounding the connection between language and human experience. While this latest example focuses on fictional entries into the English language, many before it have inspired the same fascination using words from other languages. This particular listicle presents us with items from The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows — a compendium of complex emotions (the newest additions have paragraph-long definitions) neatly packaged into single words, perfect for individual consumption. For instance, nodus tollens — a riff on modus tollens, which refers to a particular kind of argument in logic — referring to “the realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore”.
Interestingly, the foreign language lists rest on the very same foundation: specific emotions, experiences, and interpersonal interactions. Even the more concrete nouns are less about what they refer to, and more about evoking feelings of familiarity and commiseration. Like, the German word Backpfeifengesicht, claimed to refer to a face in need of a fist, is less about the face and more about what’s being done to it (and why).
Maybe part of what makes these articles so popular is that they’re connected to the central idea of the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis: that language shapes thought. This is an attitude we’ve looked at askance in our video about it, and which linguists are generally suspicious of, at least in its strongest incarnation, but it’s an idea that is intuitively appealing. And if you go full Whorf on it, it’s easy to argue that if a language has a specific word for something, it must mean people who speak that language view or feel whatever that word applies to differently than speakers of a language that doesn’t. So there’s something more German about Backpfeifengesicht, or particularly Japanese about the concept of tatemae.
Even if that’s not true, if this thinking gets people more interested in other societies or languages, that’s probably a plus. But! Having said that, it’s worth spending a moment or two to ponder over a bit of irony: though these assorted non-English words are presented as “untranslatable”, each one is unfailingly supplied with a translation. It may not be a single word translation, but it’s not that difficult for us to grasp the concept.
Beyond that, at least a few of these words aren’t foreign at all by now! Quite a lot of English speakers are familiar with the meaning of schadenfreude, which raises the question of when a word can be called “English” (which is definitely a topic for another post). But there’s definitely something to the idea that one-to-one translations are tricky, at least when it comes to having to learn a new language. Like, English uses know for both facts and things, but French divides the work up between savoir and connaître, respectively. So in learning French, an English speaker has to learn how to divide this up. And more than anything else, these invented and foreign words both seem to be more of an excuse to ruminate over the human condition; it isn’t clear how many even really have the connotations we want them to in their native tongues.
Even if you don’t like lists like these and what they might tell people about language, they aren’t going away anytime soon, and there are still some real positives we can find there. They can expose us to the diversity of other languages and cultures that we might otherwise never encounter. And as far as The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows goes, creator John Koenig takes the time to delve into a little etymology, as with the word kairosclerosis, which he explains refers to a kind of conscious transition from happiness to unhappiness and breaks down into the Greek words kairos — roughly meaning moment — and sclerosis — roughly meaning hardening. There’s never any downside to a better understanding of how words are built, and this provides readers with a great opportunity to “peek under the hood”. Super cool!