Word origins and how we know them

Although I am finding some (and perhaps even much) of what Anatoly Liberman proposes and presents in his Word Origins … And How We Know Them: Etymology for Everyone interesting, the majority of his know-how, most of the necessary linguistic examples and much of the featured information on etymology as a discipline are often so massively textually buried under the author’s rambling style of penmanship and arrogant need to constantly be tooting his own horn that I quickly and frustratingly ended up losing much of my interest and reading enthusiasm for Word Origins … And How We Know Them: Etymology for Everyone and indeed started simply and very much only on the surface skimming and certainly no longer perusing carefully and with paper and pencil in hand for specific note-taking (not to mention that I also have found Anatoly Liberman’s entire attitude so full of himself and holier than thou that I personally do have to say that he sure seems to be not only totally in love with himself and his linguistic viewpoints but that obviously, everyone else, from so-called amateur etymologists to those linguists who do not seem to share Anatoly Liberman’s way of proceeding with and approaching language and in particularly etymology are somehow not worth considering and at best to be approached with condescension and laughing ridicule, generally gentle enough ridicule to be sure, but still in my opinion rather hard hitting and pointed personal barbs and an all pervasive feeling of moral authorial superiority).

And frankly (personally), I am also just not at all interested in spending any more of my valuable reading time trying to decipher a writing style that most definitely and in my opinion is not at all «for everyone» as sorry, but

Word Origins … And How We Know Them: Etymology for Everyone feels to and for me as though it is only meant for Anatoly Liberman acolytes and fans or for those readers (whether professional linguists or not) who do have the patience and the concentration requirements to adequately handle and/or to blithely ignore the author’s ramblings (and to look for Liberman’s nuggets of actual etymological knowledge like searching for needles in proverbial haystacks of often off-topic and unrelated themes and distractions, such as for example the author’s rather long-winded rants about entomology not being etymology).

Combined with the fact that Anatoly Liberman obviously also has some real and nasty issues with in particular historical linguistics as a discipline and that indeed, his sense of elitism has permanently removed almost ALL of the potential joy and interest I might have found in and with

Word Origins … And How We Know Them: Etymology for Everyone, I can and will only consider two stars tops for Word Origins … And How We Know Them: Etymology for Everyone (and also, equally state that I for one most definitely do tend to find the fact that far too many so-called academic books on linguistics are often either much too complicated or too arrogantly and with immense academic snobbishness presented or an unfortunate combination of both to be very personally disappointing, uncomfortable and also in my opinion a sadly very good way of making linguistics as a whole and as a discipline into a book with seven proverbial seals and professional linguists themselves to appear as often, as even generally unapproachable and self-aggrandising).

Liberman seeks to communicate there’s more to etymology than amateur etymologists tend to assume, and in trying to demonstrate this fact machine-guns supposed mechanisms of word formations and examples of various etymologies, both good and bad, at the reader, seemingly more to impress than for anyone to follow too closely—because if they did follow closely, they might realise a surprising amount of it is pulled straight out of his ass. A lot of the etymologies Liberman holds up as «good» are clearly spurious or at the very least much more contentious than he pretends they are, and while most of the bad ones are indeed bad, at no point does he actually explain how to distinguish the bad from the good with any degree of rigour. Internal reconstruction is mentioned once in a chapter heading but not in the text, and while the comparative method is the subject of a chapter of its own, it seems to be brought up mainly to harp on its supposed inadequacies (to the point that Liberman never writes the words «sound laws» without scare quotes around the «laws»)—for the most part, Liberman’s method seems to be… finely honed intuition?
Except his intuition isn’t actually great, and much of the reason for that might be that, despite being a professor at a Department of German, Scandinavian[,] and Dutch and having taught classes on the history of the Germanic languages, Liberman doesn’t seem to speak any Germanic language other than English and either has surprising gaps in his knowledge of their relationships or doesn’t mind preserving them in his audience: he consistently refers to Low German as «Northern German» as if it’s just a variety of Standard German that’s spoken in the north of Germany rather than a very distinct separate language (and he does mean Low German; he mentions that it’s called that «in linguistic works»), and the majority of his Dutch examples just… aren’t Dutch. Some of them are Middle Dutch (some of his Middle Dutch examples are Middle Dutch as well), some of them seem to be transcription errors («vlaak», which he puts next to English flat and German flach, seems to be one of these), some of them are just nonsense words. Even when he does hit on a genuine Dutch word, he often gets the meaning wrong (e.g. labelling poep a term of abuse, «approximately “asshole”»; it means poop in Northern Dutch and butt in Belgian Dutch («Flemish», per Liberman, though he’s far from the only person making that mistake), but isn’t used as a term of abuse in either).

It’s hard to see why this book is as bad as it is—Liberman is, by all accounts, a real linguist and etymologist. They let him teach at a university level for years and years, and as far as I can tell he’s generally not regarded as a senile crank by other linguists. A lot of his choices in Word Origins make a lot more sense if you see it as being meant to scare away rather than educate or communicate a joy for etymology—he does whine about amateur etymologists a whole lot, and it’s easier to discourage people than to provide comprehensive instruction. There are so many bogus etymologies in this book I can’t imagine the net effect of it in the long run will be an overall reduction in circulating garbage, though.
It’s a real shame—with just a little bit more effort, he could have written a very interesting book.

(As an aside, if you are going to write a book that includes both Old English and Modern French, please use a font that distinguishes æ from œ in italics. Also, if you’re allergic to IPA and you insist on relating pronunciations to English words, specify which dialect you’re using—Liberman is a Russian living in Minnesota, but appears to be using RP as a reference.)

Because McWhorter says it’s more concise and newer, not to mention more scientific, than so much else that I’ve already wasted my time on read or considered….
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Ok, well, I guess I just got worn out before I got to this. It is exactly what it promises to be, a clear & thorough explanation of the relevant key principles of historical etymology (of English) to help discourage further dissemination of folk etymology.

But dang it’s dry. The author snootily avoids being «funny» and claims that the subject matter itself is engaging enough to be «fun» and in the process becomes so clinical the writing is actually unfriendly. And then at the end he claims that «a book not worth rereading is not worth reading even once» and suggests we reread this. Well, I read a lot of it, but I have no interest whatsoever in studying it.

One thing about it I didn’t like was how often the author admits to controversies and uncertainties. But a few more example of words the origins of which we *do* know would have been more interesting and satisfying, imo.

But even so, I did find a couple of bookdart-able bits:

Island and isle are not related, and neither should actually have the s.

«For Shakespeare ‘metal’ (or ‘mettle’) was a synonym for «any substance» (the metal of my speech; of your metal…; I am made of that self metal as my sister)….»

Recommended for those readers not burnt out on the field but still interested.

I had high hopes for this book. I wanted it to be something I could use as a supplementary book in my etymology course. Alas, no. I feel that the book is uneven in the amount and kind of explanation it provides, and it seems to me to raise more questions than it answers—and not the questions it would profess to want to raise. I also found the progression of the chapters odd; it’s not what would seem to make most sense to/for students (who are included in the author’s imagined audience). Sadly, by the end I felt like I worked through a pile of trivia, which is always the danger with etymology. I was hoping that such an accomplished practicing etymologist would be able to provide students and serious leisure-readers with a better introduction to and overview of the field.

original words but in diff languages:
european words: *nicki voice* ok i get it let me think i guess it’s my turn

Well, not everyone. «Everyone» with a pretty high level of interest in the subject, and above-average intelligence. Liberman is very quick-witted and assumes a basic working knowledge of etymology, which I admit I don’t have. On the other hand, towards the end, he mentions that he hopes that his book might be considered as a basic textbook, and for that it would work VERY well—best textbook I think I’ve ever read start-to-finish. While fairly short, this is a good overview of theory and practice, but if you don’t know anything about the Great Vowel Shift in the English language, I’d steer clear.

Not at all what I was expecting. I kind of wanted examples of some interesting word developments, and how and why they came to be. What I got instead was never ending paragraphs filled with lectures on spellings, pronounciations, language borrowing, phonetics etc, with 6 or 8 or 12 words thrown in all together to illustrate the author’s point. There were a few amusing anicdotes hiding in there, but I couldn’t get very far into it without feeling like I should be taking notes for an exam, so I just flipped after the first few chapters.

When you only start to enjoy a book 220ish pages in, you know you’re in trouble. I found it almost unreadable, which is a great shame as etymology is a subject I revel in.

Also, the arrogance of the last chapter is staggering.

some of the reviewers take issue with the tone in which the book is written but i thought it was fun and the writing is one of the only things that kept me all the way to the finished. as a known Word Nerd yes i did get bored at some points because etymology is an extremely systematical discipline and it’s not just all fun and folklore 100% of the time. i’m not sure if it’s a book that requires some foundational knowledge to really hook a reader but i felt like it served its purposes

this book definitely takes on a categorically negative view when it comes to etymology. now i’m curious how similar books have been done and i will revisit this review and when i make that plunge

It’s clear that Liberman is not a professional writer, nor did he have time or inclination to write out an outline of this «lecture.» I have to admit I’ve learned a great deal, however ranting his style or arbitrary his points. I knew little of etymology or philology, and this immersion of terminology and examples greatly helped, though at times I nearly drowned in overlapping digressions.

I felt the shortcoming was mine, until I read in the chapter «The State of English Etymology» the author’s messianic description of the little-known Skeat, followed by a pages-long defense of his reclusive and elitist behaviour. I took this as a sympathetic/reflexive character, and conclude that the author is, like me, uncouth and possibly incapable of ironing out his arguments in a socially-acceptable form. He knows his stuff so well, his explanations fall short.

Regardless of his style, thanks to the author I now have a basic understanding of the principles and struggles of etymology.

I can tell that I enjoy the author, as a person. Obviously erudite, he seems unaware, and perhaps a bit Pnin-esque. (An assumption derived from my reading.)

The book, let’s see. The book, though short, was tiresome to me. There was simply too much detail. While I took away fun curios, such as the origin of the word ‘daisy,’ it was almost unbearable at times. But, from what I gather, Liberman wishes this book to form the foundation for a class in etymology or English Language Studies. Indeed, in that capacity, it would be much better.

I applaud him for his services to our language, and to our collective pool of knowledge and dialogue, even if his book, at this time in my life, did not sit well with me.

On the last page, though, he does state something rather true: «A book not worth rereading is not worth reading even once.» On that note, I suppose my death bed shall yield those books I found best.

I bought «Word Origins» when Borders was shutting down and I found myself with $100 in stockpiled gift cards. I was 14. This book took me two years of (highly inconsistent) reading to get through. I don’t know how to rate: it was fascinating and informative, and I liked the writing well enough but I didn’t enjoy reading it and I’m happy to be done. I learned a lot, and will definitely enjoy reviewing sections, but the idea if reading it again in full makes my stomach turn. Sometimes it felt like torture, but the idea if permanently abandoning this book did not occur to me because I was fascinated…Liberman is clearly intelligent, and this book was rather dense… Obviously not made for one sitting, but there is nothing wrong with that!

Although this book is amusingly written and full of interesting tidbits, I find that it does not deliver on its promise to explain HOW we KNOW word origins. If I, who majored in linguistics, find his reasoning arbitrary at times, I imagine that others might find his arguments utterly baffling. (Besides, Kipling never claimed that giraffes have humps!)

The author has a great sense of humor and I also felt like I learned a great deal while reading this book. However it seemed like the author’s digressions sometimes took on an asbergers-y aspect when he would get to explaining, then explaining, then explaining some more, but never fully coming to his point. The book could have been more concise, used a stronger outline, etc. Fun read though.

Like listening to a crazy professor for 250 pages. Learned a lot. Interesting subject that I was never into before.

This gives a detailed explanation the various ways that words are created and developed over time, with lots of supporting examples. Reading this reinforced for me what is interesting about learning the history of words: it tells you about the way that the people who first used the word lived and thought, can give you insight into human nature generally, and can help you see a familiar word in a new light (my favorite etymology he shares is that of window, from Scandinavian for “wind’s eye.”) Word creation, Liberman demonstrates, can be very poetic.

The text would have benefitted from streamlining, for as it is it is difficult to follow. The use of text only to discuss the relationship between a certain word and its various forms and words which were related to it led to paragraphs filled similar looking words, making it difficult to distinguish them and understand the relationships among them. All of the asides only add to the confusion. Diagrams, at least for the words whose etymologies are discussed in depth would have been nice. It is also difficult to understand if you do not have some preexisting knowledge of linguistics and etymology, because he sometimes does not explain terms and symbols that he has been using since the beginning until midway through the book, and gives pronunciations erratically. A glossary, explanation of symbols, and pronunciation guide would have been helpful.

A brisk and witty tour of etymological theory of ‘standard’ English (slang, Spanglish, AAVE, etc are not covered). Liberman gives past scholars their due while forging his own path by grouping chapters more along the lines of phonic concepts such as onomatopoeia and vowel shifts than on which linguistic sources contributed which words. Though the reader need not have a background in linguistics to enjoy the book, Liberman does engage in some deep dives into theory that require your close attention if you want to keep up.

Sly, rambling, convoluted and involved, labyrinthine and playful as language itself—both an excellent introduction into modern study of etymology and its travails and a grab-bag of etymological miscellanea, this book should be required reading for anyone even remotely as much in love with words as the author clearly is.

Exactly what a book written by a guy named Anatoly would be like. Informative, but dry.

This was fun to read — not only does Liberman lay out very sound methods for determining the histories of words, with occasional appropriate ridicule of the storytelling that some etymologists have engaged in, but he peppers his prose with wordplay and wit. He introduces some ideas that were a bit unexpected to me. For example, he thinks the role of «sound symbolism» is quite important — that is, people either alter existing words or create ones with an appropriate sound to the subject, like pig, pug, pod, pad, etc. being appropriate to something «swollen». Also, his idea of etymology hopes to get to the origin of the word — either when it was coined or when it split off from related words in a sort of speciation event. I hadn’t considered being that daring. But he’s appropriately cautious about the subject of the origin of language itself, of course.

I enjoyed much of this book. I learned a lot about the science of etymology and had fun learning about various English words and their surprising origins. There were large sections especially near the end where it felt very dry and specific to the etymology crowd- I got a bit lost and bored with the details at times. But overall I enjoyed it!

I imagine it is difficult to write a book about etymology without becoming a dictionary. Liberman also confuses his audience getting too caught up in technicalities, but for a linguist not clarifying his orthography. At times he mentions phonetics and pronunciation, at others, nothing.

Word Origins … and How We Know Them: Etymology for Everyone by Anatoly Liberman (2005)

Very highly recommended; to have such an expert in the field write such readable, witty prose is really exceptional. (In other words, it’s enjoyable, approachable, /and/ accurate.)

Good book, but I’m biased. He was my adviser in graduate school…

One of my sisters gave me this book as a gift. It took me quite a while to read this; I enjoyed it; the author has a quirky sense of humor; it’s a bit too much detail for me in some places