Wednesday, June 18, 2014

"Conlang" and the OED

So, conlang got an entry in the OED a few days ago. The word has been in use since the early 1990s, and in the post-Avatar, post-Game-of-Thrones world, it is unlikely to fade out of existence any time soon, so this is an obvious move on the part of the OED editorial team.

Compared to some conlangers' reactions, my own personal reaction to this is fairly muted. I absolutely do not view this OED entry as any sort of vindication of the art. First, if I needed approval from others to pursue my hobbies, I wouldn't play the banjo, much less conlang. I don't usually look to others for approval of my pastimes (except my neighbors, I suppose, if I decide to do something unusually loud). Second, there are all manner of very unpleasant behaviors also defined in the OED, which no one takes as a sign of OED editorial approval. The word's in the OED because it is being used now, has been for a few decades, and is likely to continue to be used for decades to come. The OED entry is a simple recognition of that fact.

I was, however, delighted to notice that one of the four citations was a book by Suzette Haden Elgin, The Language Imperative. Few people are neutral on her major conlang, Láadan. I'm a big fan, while at the same time not believing it capable of accomplishing the goals it was designed to attain. I got a copy of the grammar for the language before I had regular internet access, and so was the first conlang I ever saw that wasn't mostly a euro-clone.1 I learned a lot from Láadan, so I have a warm place in my heart for it. It's a shame Alzheimer's has probably robbed Elgin of the opportunity to know she was cited in the OED.

1 Klingon is not nearly as strange as it looks on the surface. Láadan introduced me to a range of syntactic and semantic possibilities I had not previously encountered: evidentiality, different embedding structures, inalienable possession, simpler tone systems, the possibilities of a smaller phonology.

Monday, June 16, 2014

The Ultimate Dictionary Database System

Is text. End of post.

Ok, it's not quite that simple. You probably want some sort of structured text, semantically marked up if possible. But at the end of the day, all you can really rely on is text.

Why Spreadsheets Suck

First, the format is proprietary and often inconsistent across even minor version changes. You will be in a world of hurt if you want to share your dictionary with anyone else.

Second — and this is the biggest problem by far, assuming you're trying to make a naturalistic conlang — a real dictionary for a real language does not look like this:

  • kətaŋ sleep
  • kətap book
  • kətəs hangnail on the left little finger which interferes with one's needlework
  • kəwa tree
  • kəwah noodle
  • kəwe computer
  • kəweŋ hard

A few words between two languages might have (nearly) perfect overlap, and the early history of word in a conlang might start as a simple gloss, but a simple word-to-word matching is profoundly lying to you for a real language, and in a conlang signals a relex.

A real dictionary entry looks like this: δίδωμι. It has multiple meanings defined, examples of use, collocations, grammar and morphology notes, references, etc., etc.

The spreadsheet format forces you into a very limited structure for each word. That structure can never hope to cope reliably with all the different words of a single language, much less the variety of things conlangers come up with (to say nothing of natlang variety). A spreadsheet is a too rigid format to grow the meaning and uses of a word over the lifetime of your conlang.

Why Databases Suck

First, they share the same problems with spreadsheets with respect to format. Technically, SQL is a standard. In reality, all but the most trivial of databases tend to use non-standard SQL conveniences offered by the database server software the software author decided to use. So, you may get something almost portable, but often not.

Second, and again like the spreadsheet problem, a truly universal dictionary tool, a piece of software that could handle everything from Indonesian to Ancient Greek to Navajo — or Toki Pona to Na'vi to High Valyrian to Ithkuil — is going to require a very complex database structure. The SIL "Toolbox" dictionary tool has more than 100 fields available (Making Dictionaries), and all those possibilities need to be in both the database design and the software that talks to the database.

I have, over the years, spent some time trying to design a database that could really be a good language dictionary. The schema for even a simple design was quite complex, and I would not have wanted to write the software to control it. There's this huge problem in that different languages vary wildly in their definitional needs. For Mandarin, for example, you need to cover all the usual purely semantic matters — polysemy, idiom, collocation, multiple definitions, examples, etc. — but there aren't too many morphological worries. But once you add morphological complexity you've got a whole new layer of issues. The Ancient Greek example I link to above is for a fairly irregular verb, with dialectal worries to boot. And for Navajo and related Athabaskan languages the situation is so dire that people write papers called things like Making Athabaskan Dictionaries Usable and Design Issues in Athabaskan Dictionaries (do look at those to get a feel for the issues).

Any truly general dictionary database, one capable of handling enough sorts of languages to be genuinely useful, would have vast tracts of empty space to accommodate information not needed in many languages, with these fields of whitespace in different places for different languages. Even if you target your database and software design to something like Ancient Greek, there will be lots of fields left blank most of the time. It's not like all the verbs are irregular, though it may sometimes seem that way to beginners.

If you had a very good team of developers, you could probably overcome these problems, assuming the users were willing to configure a complex tool to make it easy to use for only the things your language needed. But it's never going to be a money-making venture. I don't expect to see such a tool in my lifetime.

Enter Stage Right: Text

So, we're back to simple text. The benefits:

  • the file is still readable if Microsoft/Apple/Whoever releases a New and Improved (tm) version of this or that proprietary bit of software; a file you find from 10 years ago will still be readable
  • there are zillions of text editors, usually with built in search functions, which will work on the file
  • if part of the file is destroyed, the rest of the file will generally be recoverable (proprietary formats tend to be brittle when bitrot sets in)

Bare text, of course, is not very attractive. The way around this is to use a text-based markup of some sort. You could use HTML. Or even XML with a little more work. I strongly favor LaTeX, which requires more typing than I might like, but it gives me maximum flexibility to change my mind and spits out very attractive results. The point of this is that even though HTML and LaTeX are presentation formats, the underlying basis is still just plain text. If something goes horribly wrong, you'll have a modestly ugly text file to read, but all your hard work will still be recoverable.

If you are disorganized, a computer will not help you. If you can impose a little order on yourself, though, a computer can make your life a lot easier. And a little thought can make even a plain old .txt file into the best dictionary tool you could ever want.

Sunday, April 6, 2014

Afrihili Days of the Week

In anticipation of last week's release of my Fiat Lingua paper Afrihili: an African Interlanguage, I took to Twitter to do a few Word of the Day posts. Because this is the sort of silliness that amuses me, each Word of the Day was the word for that day. Here they are in a tidy list:

  • Kurialu Sunday
  • Lamisalu Monday
  • Talalu Tuesday
  • Wakashalu Wednesday
  • Yawalu Thursday
  • Sohalu Friday
  • Jumalu Saturday

I wasn't able to find the source languages for these words, each of which ends in alu day.

For good measure, here are the months:

  • Kazi January
  • Rume February
  • Nyawɛ March
  • Forisu April
  • Hanibali May
  • Vealɛ June
  • Yulyo July
  • Shaba August
  • Tolo September
  • Dunasu October
  • Bubuo November
  • Mbanjɛ December

Again, the source languages aren't always clear, though July is coming from some European language. I must admit I didn't devote too much time to tracking these down, though. Some might be immediately obvious to some of my readers.

There aren't enough examples of time phrases to be sure of everything. The notion of "by (a month)" combines two adpositions, ɛn Shaba fo by August.

Friday, February 21, 2014

Níí'aahta Tép Toulta - "Lord Smoke and the Merchant"

I have worked up a full interlinear for one of the shorter stories with Lord Smoke, a sort of trickster figure. I don't go into every subtlety of expression, but most should be clear.

Níí'aahta Tép Toulta (PDF), and a recording (MP3) of me reciting the tale.