Sometimes a writer gets caught up searching for the perfect word and they end up saying the same thing twice — like “new innovations” or “revert back.” English is full of these redundant expressions, hiding in plain sight until you learn to spot them.
The evening news is scattered with buzzwords used for dramatic effect, but one phrase recently caught my attention. A news anchor announced a “major breakthrough” in a case, and I wondered: Is there any other type of “breakthrough?” By definition, a breakthrough is “a sudden, dramatic, and important discovery or development.” Calling it “major” repeats what’s already implied. Subtle redundancies like this can trip up even experienced writers.
Once I tuned into this kind of redundancy, I noticed more throughout news broadcasts. A report mentioned a “protest against” a new school board budget — but a protest is, by definition, a demonstration against something. Then came talk of “new innovations” in public transportation, another redundancy because innovations are inherently new.
Redundancies aren’t limited to TV news, of course — they’re everywhere, especially in advertising. Take the classic “free gift with purchase” offer. Gifts are free by definition, so you don’t really need that first word. Other everyday examples include “blend together,” “revert back,” “absolutely certain,” and “new beginning.” Here, the words “together,” “back,” “absolutely,” and “new” serve no real purpose; they’re simply reiterating the definition. Why have these phrases persisted in the English language when the colloquial trend is to abbreviate or turn phrases into acronyms? As it turns out, we all use redundancy for emphasis, whether in national news headlines or texts between friends.
So, is using redundant phrases wrong? Not necessarily, but it depends on the context. In casual, creative, or emotional writing, redundancy can enhance tone, rhythm, or interest. Think of the fairy-tale line “forever and ever.” While redundant, it’s stylistically meaningful. The key is knowing when your audience will appreciate redundancy and when it might be distracting. As for formal and technical writing, follow the style guides and trim excess by avoiding redundancy.
Rachel is a Washington, D.C.-based freelance writer. When she's not writing, you can find her wandering through a museum, exploring a new city, or advocating the importance of the Oxford comma.
American travelers might assume they’ll have no trouble communicating in Australia, but they’re often in for a linguistic surprise. Yes, we technically speak the same language as Aussies, but Down Under, English has evolved into something uniquely and wonderfully Australian. From casual greetings to everyday objects, Australians have developed their own colorful lexicon that can leave visitors both amused and confused. Whether you’re planning a trip to Sydney’s beaches, Melbourne’s coffee shops, or the vast Outback, prepare with this guide to Australian slang.
Arvo
If you’re meeting up for a midday lunch, you’ll probably greet your tablemate with “good arvo” (pronounced “ah-vo”). If you add an “s” to the beginning, as in “s’arvo,” you’ll be saying “this afternoon,” so you might say something like “meet me at the beach s’arvo.”
Ridgy-Didge
Are you lying, or are you telling the ridgy-didge? This funny-sounding word is slang for “truth.”
Doona
When you cuddle up under the covers at night, you’ll be pulling up your doona — or what North Americans know as a duvet or comforter.
Chockers
This word, which rhymes with “shockers,” is used to describe anything that’s jam-packed or full. For example, you might say, “The subway was chockers on the way to work this morning.”
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Galah
It’s pronounced like the word “gala,” but it has a far less elegant definition. Aussies use the term “galah” to refer to a fool or silly person, after a supposedly dim-witted bird of the same name.
Sanger
In North America, a slang term for a sandwich is “sammie,” but Down Under, you might hear it’s “sanger,” “sambo,” or “sambie.”
Bingle
Did you get into a bit of a fender bender with your car on the way to work? You’ve had a bingle, mate.
Esky
When you’re heading to the beach, you need to be equipped with an esky, or what Americans would—we’d call a cooler, ideal for loading up drinks and frosty treats.
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Pash
This one is slang for a deep kiss — it’s a shortened form of “passionate,” so if you have a vacation fling, make sure it lives up to the adjective inspiration.
Fair Dinkum
You could use this strange expression as an interjection, much in the same way you’d have an excited exchange of “‘Really?’ ‘Honestly!’” As in, “‘Fair dinkum?’ ‘Fair dinkum!’” It’s a flexible term — when it’s used as an adjective it’s a synonym to describe something as honest or genuine. When it’s an adverb, it’s used to emphasize sincerity or truth, such as “I’m fair dinkum about our chances to win the match.”
Cossie/Cozzie
Pick either spelling; these two words are pronounced the same and have the same meaning. They’re nicknames for a women’s swimsuit.
Trakky-Daks
A lot of Australian speech has a certain singsong rhythm, and part of it comes from Aussies’ affinity for taking components of words and making them into cute rhymes. “Trakky-daks” stems from “track pants.”
Furphy
If something seems truly unbelievable or absurd, you might proclaim it’s downright furphy.
Australians love shortening words — “Chrissy” is “Christmas,” “prezzies” are “presents” — and that extends to brand names, too. If you’re heading for a bite at the Golden Arches, aka McDonald’s, you might invite someone to join you at Macca’s.
Hooroo
To wrap things up, let’s say goodbye, Aussie-style, with this quirky word.
Jennifer A. Freeman is the Senior Editor of Word Smarts and Word Daily. When she's not searching for a perfect synonym or reaching "Genius" level on Spelling Bee, she's playing with her Welsh Terrier in Greenville, SC.
Who knew one vowel could cause such a fuss? Whether you spell it “gray” or “grey” depends on where you are, what you’re writing, and sometimes, what you’re naming. Let’s break down the spelling exceptions of this colorfully confused word.
There are some English words whose spelling depends on where you are in the world. In the United States, the color that is a mixture of black and white is called “gray,” but across the pond, it’s spelled “grey.” That’s because British English uses the older version of the word, which first appeared in Middle English, descending from the early Old English “greig.”The spelling variant “gray” gained popularity in the United States in the 18th century, perhaps inspired by the Scottish spelling of the word, which underwent several historical variations of its own (gra, grae, graye) before settling on gray.
In most cases, “gray” and “grey” are interchangeable, even in specialized terms and compound words, including “grayscale/greyscale,” “graying/greying,” and “gray/grey whales.” However, there are a few exceptions that always use one spelling. Brand names retain their specific spelling and should not be altered. For example, “Grey Poupon” (a Dijon mustard) and “Grey Goose” (a vodka brand) are both French companies, and as such, they use the British-influenced “grey.”
Beyond brand names, a few well-known terms consistently use one specific spelling. “Earl Grey tea” is a type of black tea named after Charles, the second Earl Grey and British prime minister during the 1830s. The greyhound dog breed similarly retains only one spelling. It originates from the Old Norse word “grey,” meaning “bitch” (“a female dog”) — it was not intended to reference the color of the breed, whose coats come in a range of shades.
In physics, the spelling “gray” is used to refer to a standardized unit of the absorbed dose of ionizing radiation, which corresponds to 1 joule per kilogram. This unit, named in the 1970s after English radiobiologist Louis H. Gray, is a reminder that proper nouns retain their original spelling, regardless of regional preferences. However, keep in mind that, in most instances, whether you use “gray” or “grey” depends on geography and context. When in doubt, choose the version most suitable for your audience’s location.
Featured image credit: Martin of Sweden/ Adobe Stock
Rachel is a Washington, D.C.-based freelance writer. When she's not writing, you can find her wandering through a museum, exploring a new city, or advocating the importance of the Oxford comma.
Every group has its rebel — and in the world of contractions, that rebel is “won’t.” By all logic, it should be “willn’t” if it followed the usual pattern. Here’s the centuries-old story behind English’s most defiant contraction.
“Won’t You Be My Neighbor” was the cheerful theme song of the long-running TV show “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood,” sung by none other than Fred Rogers himself. This friendly tune is easy to sing along with, but imagine how it would sound if the contraction “won’t” were replaced with “willn’t.” If it followed the usual pattern for contractions, “will not” should become “willn’t.” But of course, we use “won’t.” How did that happen? Centuries of language evolution are to thank for this unique contraction.
Most standard English contractions follow one of three patterns: drop the first letter of the second word (“I’m,” “they’re,” “how’s”), drop the second letter of the second word (“shouldn’t,” “don’t,” “isn’t”), or drop the first two letters of the second word (“it’ll,” “he’ll”). “Won’t” appears to follow the second rule by dropping the “o” in “not,” but there’s something unusual about it. Unlike with “don’t” (“do not”) or “isn’t” (“is not”), the first part of “won’t” doesn’t clearly come from the first word (in this case, “will”). So, why not just say “willn’t”?
The answer lies in a rather messy evolution of language that dates back a now-extinct Middle English word, “wynnot.” Back then, “wyn” was a common spelling variant of “will,” so “wynnot” simply meant “will not.” By the 15th century, “wynnot” was replaced with “wonnot,” a blend of “woll” and “not.” The word “woll” itself was another spelling variation of “will” used in late Middle English until the 16th century.
By the 17th century, “wonnot” had been shortened to “wo’not,” and finally, by the 18th century, it settled into the modern form we know today: “won’t.” It remains the only common English contraction to preserve an archaic form. Linguists believe that “won’t” stuck around for a simple reason: It’s easier to pronounce than “willn’t.” After all, “Willn’t you be my neighbor?” just doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.
Featured image credit: H. Mark Weidman Photography/ Alamy Stock Photo
Rachel is a Washington, D.C.-based freelance writer. When she's not writing, you can find her wandering through a museum, exploring a new city, or advocating the importance of the Oxford comma.
Words We Think Should Be Pronounced Differently Based on How They’re Spelled
Have you ever seen a word written down, only to discover that its pronunciation is far different than you first thought? Not everything in the realm of phonetics is as it first appears.
An interesting hallmark of a well-read person is that they may mispronounce certain words. It’s not that they don’t know the meaning of the word — in fact, it’s quite the opposite. There are some words that don’t come up regularly in spoken conversation, but are employed more frequently in books and journalism, and a person of letters will be familiar with this vocabulary. Within this subset of words are those that have a pronunciation that is at odds with the way the word is spelled. Consider the word “receipt” — it’s a common enough word, but it serves as an example for us. How is a reader supposed to know the “p” is silent?
This pronunciation mismatch is rife across the English language because of its widespread etymological history. Sometimes a single word might have undergone an evolution that pulls from both Latin and Germanic influences. When a reader looks at an unfamiliar word, it can be tricky to know where to place the emphasis, which letters to pronounce, and which might be silent.Here are six examples of this phonetic disconnect.
Epitome
Correct Pronunciation: uh-PI-duh-mee
Alternate Pronunciation: EH-pi-tohm
“Epitome” — a word meaning “the perfect example of” — is arguably the epitome of the topic at hand. Part of the confusion stems from the word “tome,” which is pronounced “tohm” and means “a large, scholarly book.” However, that word has nothing to do with the etymological roots of the word “epitome.” Instead, “epitome” comes from the Greek ἐπιτομή, which means “incision” and is pronounced in a similar fashion to the modern English word. However, the similar spelling of “epitome” and “tome” causes an understandable pronunciation mix-up.
Queue
Correct Pronunciation: kyoo
Alternate Pronunciation: KWEH-weh
So many vowels in a row are tricky to parse out, but we think it would make sense for the “que” in “queue” to be pronounced with a “kweh” sound — much like in the word “question.” But in truth, the last four letters of this odd term are essentially silent, as “queue” is pronounced more like the letter “q.” This is because “queue” is likely derived from the Old French cue or coe, meaning “tail.” Today, the word is primarily used among British English speakers as a term for a line of people.
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Colonel
Correct Pronunciation: KER-nul
Alternate Pronunciation: KER-nul (but it should be spelled differently)
The pronunciation of “colonel” comes from French, but the modern spelling comes from Italian, which is where the mismatch comes from. It’s derived from the French coronel, referencing the commander of a regiment, but in the 1580s, the spelling was modified to be more in line with the Italian colonnella, meaning the same. But even though the spelling changed, many English speakers continued to use the earlier version of the pronunciation that included an “r” sound, which persists in many places today. Instead of changing the pronunciation, we vote to switch to an entirely English spelling, as it’s already been through multiple influences. Let’s go phonetic and make it “kernel.”
Viscount
Correct Pronunciation: VYE-kownt
Alternate Pronunciation: VISS-kownt
A viscount is a position in British peerage, ranking above a baron and below an earl. While it’s spelled with an “s,” that letter is silent, and the word is pronounced “VYE-kownt.” This is because it originally meant “vice count,” as in someone who provides assistance to a higher-ranking count. The word “vice” was shortened, thus producing the “vye” sound at the start of “viscount.” This one doesn’t matter too much for American English speakers, but as there are no counts in the British peerage system, we propose to swap this pronunciation.
Coxswain
Correct Pronunciation: KAHK-sun
Alternate Pronunciation: KAHK-sweyn
Coxswain is an important position in the sport of rowing, as it’s their job to help steer the racing boat. The “cox” portion of the word comes from the Middle English cok, meaning “small boat,” while “swain” is an archaic word for “country youth.” Together, they join to form this unusual word, which drops the “way” sound that is expected from phonetics. Instead, that syllable is left unstressed, as “coxswain” is simply pronounced “KAHK-sun.” As with “epitome” and “tome,” the mismatch of spelling and pronunciation between the words causes confusion, and we’d like to bring them in line with a new pronunciation for coxswain.
“Segue” is spelled in the pattern of many other familiar words — “vogue,” “vague,” and “fatigue,” to name a few. But while those end with a guttural “guh” sound, “segue” is different. It’s pronounced “SEG-way,” as the Italian segue is pronounced. The Italian word means “now follows,” and “segue” in English implies a transition from one topic to another. While there is a strong connection to the Italian inspiration, we think it makes sense to keep the pronunciation consistent with other similarly spelled English words, even though they have different etymologies.
Do you agree with our phonetic suggestions? Or have we gone too far in disrupting the language? We’re not changing the dictionary — just offering some opinions on words we stumble over in our regular reading. Are there any words you think should change pronunciation based on their spelling? Let us know!
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Optimism. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
Mastering a new language becomes significantly harder after age 10. There are scientific reasons to back up why kids are so much better at learning languages.
About half of the world’s population speaks at least two languages, but an emphasis on learning multiple languages isn’t as prevalent in the United States. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, only 20% of Americans speak a second language. Differences in education systems likely account for a good bit of the difference in language-learning rates. In European countries, most students begin studying a foreign language in school between the ages of 6 and 9, and a median of 92% of K-12 European students study a foreign language, according to the European Commission. In contrast, only 20% of American grade-school students study a foreign language.
But school requirements aren’t the only thing that impacts language learning. Other factors including the age of the student and the type of the language significantly impact a person’s ability to learn a new language. Why does it seem so much easier for children to learn a new language than it does for an adult?
Age Matters
Research supports the idea that there is a critical age period for maximum proficiency in learning a new language — the younger, the better. According to a study by MIT, that age cutoff is 10. A language student who begins learning before the age of 10 has a good chance of becoming as proficient as a native speaker would be, but after age 10, it is nearly impossible to become that proficient. This language learning could take place through formal classes in school, or it might be through immersion, such as in a bilingual family environment or if a child immigrates to a new country and learns a second language.
The chance of proficiency declines after age 10, but those between the ages of 10 and 18 still have a higher retention rate than older learners, especially when it comes to learning new grammar. Researchers aren’t sure why retention rates drop so dramatically after age 18, but it could be due to cultural and social changes at this age (such as moving out of the family home) or biological reasons (changes in brain plasticity).
It’s still possible to learn a new language at any age, but it seems that children do have an advantage.
Of course, if you didn’t start learning a new language as a young child, that doesn’t mean you’ll never be able to acquire some level of new language proficiency — it just means you’re unlikely to be mistaken as a native speaker. Also, there are advantages to learning as an adult, just as there are benefits to a childlike style of learning. (Fun word fact: “Andragogy” is the method and practice of teaching adult learners.)
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Advantages of Learning as a Child
Brain chemistry: Children are built to absorb new information, even unconsciously.
Learning style: Children are implicit learners and better at listening and imitation. Their brains are designed to do this at that age.
Material and context: Children are used to being taught small bits of simple information, including colors, numbers, songs, and shapes. Adults tend to be taught more complex language concepts.
Confidence: Children aren’t afraid to mess up a word or fumble through a sentence, whereas adult learners are less likely to practice new skills out loud. Practicing out loud is one of the most effective ways to master a new language.
Learning style: Adults are explicit learners who are better at intentionally learning a new language through lessons. They also have longer attention spans and more literacy skills. When tested in formal language labs, adults performed better than children.
Dedication: Children might not have the same motivation or level of commitment as adults do when learning a second language.
Overall, there are advantages for learning a second language at any age. Children might have an easier time becoming proficient, but adults can still have great success in learning a second (or third, or fourth) language.
Jennifer A. Freeman is the Senior Editor of Word Smarts and Word Daily. When she's not searching for a perfect synonym or reaching "Genius" level on Spelling Bee, she's playing with her Welsh Terrier in Greenville, SC.
Crocodiles have a biological process that makes them shed tears. But do they actually cry tears of sadness, or is the phrase “crocodile tears” more figurative in nature?
Why have crocodiles — and specifically their tears — received the reputation of insincerity? With so many animals to pick from, why not dogs, worms, or parrots? Let’s dig into the history of “crocodile tears” and why people chose crocodiles in particular for this idiom about a superficial display of performative emotion.
Crocodiles do indeed have a biological mechanism that lubricates the eyes when they’ve been out of water too long, but that moisture has nothing to do with shedding tears of sadness. Instead, this idiom can be traced back to the ancient notion that crocodiles cry while devouring their prey.
The ancient Greek philosopher Plutarch wrote about crocodiles weeping in the first century CE. This same story was referenced in a 14th-century book titled The Travels of Sir John Mandeville. The blog Phrase Finder loosely translated the Middle English story: “In that country — there are many crocodiles — These serpents slay men, and then, weeping, eat them.” The exact term “crocodile tears” came about in 1563, when it was used by Edmund Grindal, the Archbishop of York and of Canterbury, in a similar context to how we use it today, referring to a “counterfeit humility.”
It’s possible the meaning of insincerity developed from the stories of ancient crocodiles because they continued to enjoy their meal even as they wept. As such, the animals couldn’t have been that sad about their crimes.
The indelible connection between crocodiles and tears was further entrenched by Shakespeare. In Act 4, Scene 1 of Othello, the Bard wrote, “If that the Earth could teem with woman’s tears, Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.” The idea of crocodile tears thus became part of the collective English lexicon.
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Optimism. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
What’s the Difference Between “Pallet,” “Palette,” and “Palate”?
Much like how it’s tough to tell identical twins apart, homophones can be difficult to distinguish. Here’s one etymological situation in particular that may be plaguing you.
Though the words “pallet,” “palette,” and “palate” sound very similar, they couldn’t be more different in their individual meanings. Think of identical twins with vastly different personalities — they may look the same, but while one listens to pop music and eats sushi every night, the other prefers classical music and Italian. But let’s go back to the linguistic topic at hand — while it may be hard to tell these words apart by ear, each has a unique definition, and once you learn the differences between them, you’ll be able to distinguish them with ease the next time you read them.
“Pallet” has a few usages: It originally meant “straw mattress” or “crude makeshift bed.” However, its far more common definition today is “a portable platform on which goods can be moved, stacked, and stored, especially with the aid of a forklift.” You’re likely to see wood pallets littered throughout any warehouse, or lining the shelves of your local Costco.
“Palette” is more common in the artistic world. It describes the thin slab that painters hold to lay and mix their colors. The term was coined in the early 17th century — though to make matters more confusing, it was originally spelled “pallet.” As the term evolved, so did the spelling. Not only does “palette” refer to the physical item that a painter uses, but it also refers to the range of colors contained in a given image.
Finally, there’s “palate,” which you’re most likely to hear in the context of human biology or culinary pleasure. “Palate” refers to the roof of the mouth that separates it from the nasal cavity — we have a hard and a soft palate. But “palate” can also refer to a person’s appreciation for taste and flavor. Someone with a sophisticated palate may enjoy fine-dining restaurants, whereas someone described as having “the palate of a child” may request buttered, unseasoned noodles for dinner.
Given their different meanings, these identical-sounding terms are rarely used in tandem, but keep an eye out for those rare instances where these homophones could trip you up. For example, if you’re telling a story about a painter getting a pallet of palettes delivered while they snack on something that delights their palate — how will your audience tell the homophones apart? As always, context clues help us out.
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Optimism. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
f Italian. The English language is rife with many Italian loanwords, including “macaroni,” “paparazzi,” and the topic of today’s lesson, “ditto.” The Italian ditto is a dialect variant of detto, meaning “said” — as in, “already said.” Its use in English has spanned almost every part of speech, though today, “ditto” is almost exclusively used in its adverbial form as an informal synonym for the word “same.”
According to the Oxford English Dictionary, “ditto” came into English as a noun in the early 17th century, meaning “in or of the month already named.” In other words, if someone wrote “20th of June,” later dates could be written as “25th ditto” and “17th ditto.”By the late 17th century, people began using “ditto” more generally as a way to avoid writing repetitive words in the same text. It was a handy tactic that became popular in speech as well.
Merriam-Webster adds that by the 1710s, “ditto” began to function as both an adverb (meaning “same”) and a verb (e.g., “He dittoed what the other person said”). “Ditto” gained traction thereafter in the context of science and commerce, as people used the term as a way to avoid repeating mundane and complex terminology. In the 19th century, authors including Charles Dickens and Louisa May Alcott began to use “ditto” in a more colloquial context, thus broadening society’s overall familiarity with the term.
However, as the English language modernized, 20th-century speakers began to rely on “ditto” less. It was rarely, if ever, used as a noun as originally intended, and the verb “to ditto” diminished in popularity as well. But the adverbial form — meaning “same as what has been said” — stuck around, primarily as a way to express informal agreement. This form of “ditto” saw a resurgence after the release of the 1990 film Ghost, in which Patrick Swayze’s character Sam uses it as a way to say “I love you too” to Demi Moore’s Molly. Since then, “ditto” has remained a part of our collective lexicon as an alternative for “same” or “agreed.”
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Optimism. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
Why Is “Ye Olde” Pronounced Differently Than It’s Spelled?
Hear ye, hear ye! Old English speakers wouldn’t have pronounced “ye olde” how you might pronounce it with your modern tongue. Let’s sound out this classic expression.
When a business wants to evoke a sense of nostalgia, they might pick the name “Ye Olde Shoppe.” Similarly, a pint in “Ye Olde Tavern” is sure to be accompanied by some old-timey decorations. The use of “ye olde” as an advertising tactic is appropriate because even though it seems like something from the lexicon of Old English speakers, it was actually coined in the 1850s for commercial purposes.
There’s also the issue of pronunciation. To our modern eyes and ears, “ye olde” seems like it would be pronounced “yee old” or even “yee old-ee.” But if we followed Old English rules, from which this expression originated, it would be pronounced with the “y” sounding like “th”: “thee old.” In Old English, the alphabet was different than it is today. Instead of a “Y,” a letter called a thorn (þ) was used in many words, and it was pronounced with a “th” sound. While “ye olde” wasn’t in use until the 1850s, the word þe, pronounced “thee,” was in Old English.
When it comes to “olde,” the “-e” at the end is silent, just as it is in “shoppe,” another word that’s been given the old-fashioned treatment for the sake of advertising.
Featured image credit: Andrew Holt/ The Image Bank via Getty Images
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Optimism. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
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