âLetâs face it - English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins werenât invented in England or French fries in France. Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which arenât sweet, are meat. We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig. And why is it that writers write but fingers donât fing, grocers donât groce and hammers donât ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isnât the plural of booth beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2 indices? Doesnât it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend? If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it? If teachers taught, why didnât preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell? How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites? You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out and in which an alarm goes off by going on. English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race (which, of course, isnât a race at all). That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible.â
But, no, because there are reasons for all of those seemingly weird English bits.
Like âeggplantâ is called âeggplantâ because the white-skinned variety (to which the name originally applied) looks very egg-like.
The âhamburgerâ is named after the city of Hamburg.
The name âpineappleâ originally (in Middle English) applied to pine cones (ie. the fruit of pines - the word âappleâ at the time often being used more generically than it is now), and because the tropical pineapple bears a strong resemblance to pine cones, the name transferred.
The âEnglishâ muffin was not invented in England, no, but it was invented by an Englishman, Samuel Bath Thomas, in New York in 1894. The name differentiates the âEnglish-styleâ savoury muffin from âAmericanâ muffins which are commonly sweet.
âFrench friesâ are not named for their country of origin (Belgium or Spain, depending who you ask), but for their preparation. They are French-cut fried potatoes - ie. French fries.
âSweetmeatsâ originally referred to candied fruits or nuts, and given that we still use the term ânutmeatâ to describe the edible part of a nut and âfleshâ to describe the edible part of a fruit, that makes sense.
âSweetbreadâ has nothing whatsoever to do with bread, but comes from the Middle English âbredeâ, meaning âroasted meatâ. âSweetâ refers not to being sugary, but to being rich in flavour.
Similarly, âquicksandâ means not âfast sandâ, but âliving sandâ (from the Old English âcwicuâ - âaliveâ).
The term boxing âringâ is a holdover from the time when the âringâ would have been just that - a circle marked on the ground. The first square boxing ring did not appear until 1838. In the rules of the sport itself, there is also a ring - real or imagined - drawn within the now square arena in which the boxers meet at the beginning of each round.
The etymology of âguinea pigâ is disputed, but one suggestion has been that the sounds the animals make are similar to the grunting of a pig. Also, as with the âappleâ that caused confusion in âpineappleâ, âGuineaâ used to be the catch-all name for any unspecified far away place. Another suggestion is that the animal was named after the sailors - the âGuinea-menâ - who first brought it to England from its native South America.
As for the discrepancies between verb and noun forms, between plurals, and conjugations, these are always the result of differing word derivation.
Writers write because the meaning of the word âwriterâ is âone who writesâ, but fingers never fing because âfingerâ is not a noun derived from a verb. Hammers donât ham because the noun âhammerâ, derived from the Old Norse âhamarrâ, meaning âstoneâ and/or âtool with a stone headâ, is how we derive the verb âto hammerâ - ie. to use such a tool. But grocers, in a certain sense, DO âgroceâ, given that the word âgrocerâ means âone who buys and sells in grossâ (from the Latin âgrossariusâ, meaning âwholesalerâ).
âToothâ and âteethâ is the legacy of the Old English âtoĂ°â and âteĂ°â, whereas âboothâ comes from the Old Danish âboĂŸâ. âGooseâ and âgeeseâ, from the Old English âgĆsâ and âgÄsâ, follow the same pattern, but âmooseâ is an Algonquian word (Abenaki: âmozâ, Ojibwe: âmoozâ, Delaware: âmo:sâ). âIndexâ is a Latin loanword, and forms its plural quite predictably by the Latin model (ex: matrix -> matrices, vertex -> vertices, helix -> helices).
One can âmake amendsâ - which is to say, to amend what needs amending - and, case by case, can âamendâ or âmake an amendmentâ. No conflict there.
âOdds and endsâ is not a word, but a phrase. It is, necessarily, by its very meaning, plural, given that it refers to a collection of miscellany. A single object canât be described in the same terms as a group.
âTeachâ and âtaughtâ go back to Old English âtĂŠcanâ and âtĂŠhteâ, but âpreachâ comes from Latin âpredicianâ (âprĂŠâ + âdicareâ - âto proclaimâ).
âVegetarianâ comes of âvegetableâ and âagrarianâ - put into common use in 1847 by the Vegetarian Society in Britain.
âHumanitarianâ, on the other hand, is a portmanteau of âhumanityâ and âUnitarianâ, coined in 1794 to described a Christian philosophical position - âOne who affirms the humanity of Christ but denies his pre-existence and divinityâ. It didnât take on its current meaning of âethical benevolenceâ until 1838. The meaning of âphilanthropistâ or âone who advocates or practices human action to solve social problemsâ didnât come into use until 1842.
We recite a play because the word comes from the Latin ârecitareâ - âto read aloud, to repeat from memoryâ. âRecitalâ is âthe act of recitingâ. Even this usage makes sense if you consider that the Latin âciteâ comes from the Greek âcieoâ - âto move, to stir, to rouse , to excite, to call upon, to summonâ. Music ârousesâ an emotional response. One plays at a recital for an audience one has âcalled uponâ to listen.
The verb âto shipâ is obviously a holdover from when the primary means of moving goods was by ship, but âcargoâ comes from the Spanish âcargarâ, meaning âto load, to burden, to impose taxesâ, via the Latin âcarricareâ - âto load on a cartâ.
âRunâ (moving fast) and ârunâ (flowing) are homonyms with different roots in Old English: âĂŠrnanâ - âto ride, to reach, to run to, to gain by runningâ, and ârinnanâ - âto flow, to run togetherâ. Noses flow in the second sense, while feet run in the first. Simillarly, âto smellâ has both the meaning âto emitâ or âto perceiveâ odor. Feet, naturally, may do the former, but not the latter.
âFat chanceâ is an intentionally sarcastic expression of the sentiment âslim chanceâ in the same way that âYeah, rightâ expresses doubt - by saying the opposite.
âWise guyâ vs. âwise manâ is a result of two different uses of the word âwiseâ. Originally, from Old English âwisâ, it meant âto know, to seeâ. It is closely related to Old English âwitâ - âknowledge, understanding, intelligence, mindâ. From German, we get âWitzâ, meaning âjoke, witticismâ. So, a wise man knows, sees, and understands. A wise guy cracks jokes.
The seemingly contradictory âburn upâ and âburn downâ arenât really contradictory at all, but relative. A thing which burns up is consumed by fire. A house burns down because, as it burns, it collapses.
âFill inâ and âfill outâ are phrasal verbs with a difference of meaning so slight as to be largely interchangeable, but there is a difference of meaning. To use the example in the post, you fill OUT a form by filling it IN, not the other way around. That is because âfill inâ means âto supply what is missingâ - in the example, that would be information, but by the same token, one can âfill inâ an outline to make a solid shape, and one can âfill inâ for a missing person by taking his/her place. âFill outâ, on the other hand, means âto complete by supplying what is missingâ, so that form we mentioned will not be filled OUT into we fill IN all the missing information.
An alarm may âgo offâ and it may be turned on (ie. armed), but it does not âgo onâ. That is because the verb âto go offâ means âto become active suddenly, to triggerâ (which is why bombs and guns also go off, but do not go on).
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