This post follows up last weekend's non-political piffle about the chronology of slang. As you may recall, I've been bothered by period films which incorporate anachronistic turns of phrase. My specific pet peeve is (or was) the use of "Like, duh" to mean "Isn't it obvious?"
I had been under the impression that this usage began in the late 1970s. However, a reader I trust assures me that he heard "duh" used in this fashion in prep school in the early 1960s.
Is my face red? Duh!
Here are a couple of other potential trouble-terms for aspiring screenwriters:
Groovy. This word is my all-time favorite slang expression. Alas, few young people today know how to use it. Those who wish to learn should consult the film Good Morning Vietnam, in which Robin Williams gives expert instruction in grooviness. Jazz musicians began using "groovy" long before anyone else -- in the late 1940s, I believe. And they have kept the expression alive ever since.
Alas, "groovy" saw widespread usage outside the musical community for only a brief period of time -- 1966-69. By 1970-71, the word had acquired a somewhat antique sound. A pity, that: No other locution ever did quite the same job. We have many ways to say "I feel good," but "I feel groovy" means something more specific. "Groovy" carries overtones of sex (since the sexual act involves the world's grooviest groove) and a pleasant sense of intoxication; the word connotes a subjective feeling of harmony between the individual and his environment.
Although "groovy" is now rarely heard, moderns make the noun "groove" do similar work. An artist getting over a block might say "I got my groove back." However, you still have to be a professional musician to get away with using "groove" as a verb, as in "I groove with Beethoven."
Into. When did people first begin to use "into" as a way of saying "interested in" or "intrigued by"? Example: "I'm into tarot." I have a rather distinct recollection of hearing this phrase for the first time in 1968. I doubt that any reader can offer an earlier citation.
People have been into using "Into" ever since, although nowadays it is most commonly associated with interpersonal relationships: "She's just not that into you."
Totally. This word was not used as a synonym for "definitely" until 1980 or thereabouts. I'm like, totally sure of that.
Cool with. "Cool" has been used as synonym for good, hip, and up-to-date since (at least) the early 1950s. But I never heard the phrase "I'm cool with that" until the 1990s, although a friend swears he heard it in the late 1960s. I'd like to pinpoint the origin year for this expression.
Fun. Believe it or not, "fun" was not used as an adjective until the 1920s. (I know this because a friend and I once entered into a wager on this very point; we eventually consulted a university professor.) Before that decade, an American might say "That was a lot of fun" or "We had fun," but not "That was so fun" or "She's a fun girl."
Nice. Today, the word means "pleasant" and carries connotations of "clean-cut" or "polite" or "generous" or "unthreatening." At one time, however, "nice" meant "discriminating." For example, in The Maltese Falcon, Caspar Gutman refers to Sam Spade as "a man of nice judgment."
Want. When did people stop using "want" to convey the idea of "need" -- as in, "You'll want sleep after being up for three days"? I would suggest that this usage petered out in the 1930s, although English majors occasionally still employ the word in this fashion.
Well, that's enough linguistic piffle for one session. As always, I'll be happy to hear from readers who want to correct my proposed timelines.
4 comments:
ah, my first moment to comment, and it's on my fave subject: language, especially of the english persuasion.
i only have a couple of things to add, tho. one, the notion of 'groovy' emerged with the recording industry, obviously, particularly the early years when all recordings went direct to disc (as in wax; not do-overable), a process that widened its public consumption by WWI (that's WWone!), coincidental with the emergence of ragtime and jazz, or improvisational music. the original risky business! its metaphorical application beyond musical moments of course arose during the early hippy era when the most improvisational jazz saw its first real fusion into general pop consumption. i submit that it fell out of favor quickly after 'groovy kind of love' made a hit by the mindbenders, and then '59th street bridge song (feelin' groovy)' by simon and garfunkel nearly made a mockery of the musical/jazz roots of the concept.
the other comment concerns 'into'. i'd only add that i'm sort of surprised that film buff joe left out perhaps the earliest famous usage of the phrase, and one that had nothing to do with relationships (though the vehicle most certainly did): woody allen's 1977 'annie hall', that flashback sequence to his grade school classroom when everyone was standing up and projecting their future livelihoods, and the one girl in braids - very straight-faced and a bit incongruously (given her shy and goodytwoshoes look and the various implications of her statement) -says:
'i'm into leathuh.'
for some bizarre reason, i crack up whenever i think of that scene.
that's it. for now. working on a piece on the economy and labor and corporate profits and power i'm hoping to post by the new year. my solstice manifesto, if you will. thanks for bearing with me, though joe's work leaves my absence unnoticeable.
good will toward all!
Nice: This triggered a vague recollection that in Jane Austen's Northanger Abby (written in 1798) the heroine was reproved by a companion for praising a book as being "nice."
Thanks to the wonders of the Internet, I was able to find a text version online -- and it turns out that "nice" is used repeatedly as a word of praise. However, the specific interchange that had lodged in my memory for all these years was this one:
But now really, do not you think Udolpho the nicest book in the world?
The nicest--by which I suppose you mean the neatest. That must depend upon the binding.
Henry, said Miss Tilney you are very impertinent. Miss Morland, he is treating you exactly as he does his sister. He is forever finding fault with me, for some incorrectness of language, and now he is taking the same liberty with you. The word 'nicest,' as you used it, did not suit him; and you had better change it as soon as you can, or we shall be overpowered with Johnson and Blair all the rest of the way.
I am sure, cried Catherine I did not mean to say anything wrong; but it is a nice book, and why should not I call it so?
Very true, said Henry and this is a very nice day, and we are taking a very nice walk, and you are two very nice young ladies. Oh! It is a very nice word indeed! It does for everything. Originally perhaps it was applied only to express neatness, propriety, delicacy, or refinement--people were nice in their dress, in their sentiments, or their choice. But now every commendation on every subject is comprised in that one word.
While, in fact, cried his sister it ought only to be applied to you, without any commendation at all. You are more nice than wise. Come, Miss Morland, let us leave him to meditate over our faults in the utmost propriety of diction, while we praise Udolpho in whatever terms we like best.
The impression I get from this passage is that as of 1798, "nice," far from being the wishy-washy expression of approval it is now, meant something a lot closer to "totally awesome" -- and that the two girls were heading off to discuss the total awesomeness of that prototypical Gothic novel, Ann Radcliffe's The Mysteries of Udolpho.
Listening to Madonna's "Into the Groove" (live Detroit Virgin Tour), I can't think of hearing "into" that way before 1968, either. But I think it carried meanings beyond "interested in" or "intrigued by", especially owing to Eastern influences since the 1950s and to modern philosophers like Martin Buber ("I-Thou"), Richard Alpert ("Be Here Now"), Alan Watts, and Timothy Leary. "Into" also seems to correspond to a degree of being turned on or tuned in. When I first heard it and used it myself, it carried the idea of 'becoming' part of something else, especially a work of art. It was part of the act of appreciation or perception more than an attitude or point of view. We said, "I really got into that" or asked "Did you get into that?" I think that's approximately when 'literally' and 'virtually' waved to each other while passing in the night: you felt you were literally into something. Though not a direct ancestor, Herman's Hermits' 1964 "I'm Into Something Good" would sear the locution into the pop consciousness. It wouldn't surprise me to find "into" a few years after stereo sound reached everyone ('stereo' means 'depth', which recorded music acquired with stereo), and when stereo headphones were startling and even re-orienting.
'Into' has psycholinguistic kinship with 'on', as in 'on the phone' and 'on the computer' (or 'on the air' and 'on TV', which are very different from 'in the movies' or 'in the news').
Far from finding it hard to believe that "fun" was not used as an adjective until the 1920s, I find it hard to believe that it WAS used as an adjective before the 1950s.
http://www.kirkmahoney.com/blog/2007/12/which-is-very-fun/
I grew up in NYC. I can't be certain, but I don't remember hearing it until maybe the 1970s, and to this day I don't say it, it sounds flaky to me.
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