Frank Bruni’s addendum to his column, For the Love of Sentences, is worth the price of a subscription to NYT. I can only dream that someday you’ll see one of my sentences here.

Jennifer Lopez in “This Is Me … Now: A Love Story” Prime, via Associated Press

Jennifer Lopez released an ego-smooching tandem of new movie and new music titled “This Is Me … Now,” and Lopezologists were ready.

Wesley Morris in The Times: “When Beyoncé explored love-pain, she called her project ‘Lemonade.’ When Lopez does it, heartache becomes cardio, lots of sweating and suffering and boxing and panting and heaving. You admire the shape of her body as much as you mourn her emotional discontent. It’s ‘Lululemonade.’” (Thanks to Josh Futterman, Manhattan, and Allen Tarlow, West Hollywood, Calif., among others, for nominating this.)

Anne Branigin in The Washington Post: “It will certainly take home the trophy for The Most J-Lo Thing J-Lo Has Ever Done. In it, she’s the magnetic center of the universe: She sings, she dances, she channels all of her rom-com superpowers — she even raps. It is her Magnum Lopez.” (Virginia Matish, Chesapeake, Va.)

Wesley also weighed in recently on a very different kind of performer in a very different kind of movie, appraising Paul Giamatti’s Oscar-nominated performance in “The Holdovers” as a profoundly — but not hopelessly — embittered prep school teacher: “You can measure the emotional magnitude of his righteousness by the creases, lines and squiggles that striate Giamatti’s forehead. What he’s after is richer than plain fury. Yes, he can give you Vesuvius. But here, in the most deeply inhabited, most sharply etched use to which that brow has yet been put, Giamatti has also located Lake Placid and charts a course toward it.” (Bonnie Oberman, Chicago, and Doug Sterner, Fort Lauderdale, Fla., among others)

Sticking with The Times, John McWhorter had some translingual fun with the first person plural: “In the Kwaio language of the Solomon Islands, the word for ‘we’ differs depending on whether you mean yourself and the person you’re talking to or yourself and someone else. There are also different words for ‘we’ if you are talking about yourself and three people including whom you are talking to or three people not including whom you are talking to or more than three people. Kwaio can leave an English speaker with we-ness envy.” (Sheldon Seidenfeld, Teaneck, N.J., and Keith Friedlander, Lloyd Harbor, N.Y., among many others)

Dwight Garner marveled at the writer Carson McCullers’s daily pharmaceutical intake as described in a new biography of her: “The lists of pills fill entire paragraphs. She must have rattled when she walked.” (Sally Hinson, Greer, S.C., and John Jacoby, Cambridge, Mass.)

And in a letter to the editor, Larry Stein of Glendale, Calif., observed: “President Biden would be an awful contestant on ‘Jeopardy!’ Instant recall and exact phrasing are not his strengths. But presidents do not play Foreign Policy for $200. They play it for real.” (Tim McFadden, Encinitas, Calif.)

To return to The Washington Post, Robin Givhan checked in on Senator Tim Scott’s stumping for Trump and saw “someone who has stared directly into the blinding sunlight of ambition and is trying to convince folks that he can still see clearly and accurately.” “Truth,” she continued, “floats around him like afterimages, those dark spots that bob in and out of focus.” (Betsy Snider, Acworth, N.H., and Robert Meadow, Los Angeles, among others)

In USA Today, Rex Huppke reviewed the shimmering gold sneakers that Trump recently branded and brandished: “They’re the go-to athletic shoe for people fleeing responsibility.” (Jon Rasmussen, Honolulu)

In Jacobin, Alissa Quart explored the disappearance or shrinking of many publications: “Pitchfork, long my go-to for tart and encyclopedic endorsements or takedowns of music, has been folded, in a much-reduced form, into GQ — two media entities that, if they were people, would have never spoken to each other in high school.” (Jazmyn Strode, Brooklyn, N.Y.)

In JoeBlogs, Joe Posnanski noted the significance of the baseball coach Don Mattingly’s rearing in the Hoosier State: “Don obviously grew up playing basketball; this being Indiana, after all, where both parents have to make consecutive free throws in order to take their baby home from the hospital.” (Perry Sailor, Longmont, Colo.)

In The Spokesman-Review of Spokane, Wash., Ammi Midstokke reacted to the latest compliment from her husband. “I was struck by a realization: Either I am perfect or my husband enjoys the relative peace that reigns when we both pretend I am,” she wrote. (Blake Albretsen, Spokane Valley, Wash.)

And in Bloomberg, Howard Chua-Eoan mulled the cheapening of “influence” as a concept and word: “The influencer culture has, for all practical purposes, blandly redefined influence as a commercial subset of social media. Its purpose is ever more followers and the monetization of those numbers, a frothy kind of circular prosperity. But real influence is made of sterner stuff — soul and sinew and heat and love. That’s what you see in the legacy of a truly influential American, restaurateur David Bouley, who died this week at the age of 70. Much more than a mountain of likes, he’s legend.” (Michael Costa, Bristol, R.I.)

To nominate favorite bits of recent writing from The Times or other publications to be mentioned in “For the Love of Sentences,” please email me here and include your name and place of residence.

Frank Bruni’s addendum to his column, For the Love of Sentences, is worth the price of a subscription to NYT. I can only dream that someday you’ll see one of my sentences here.

Jennifer Lopez in “This Is Me … Now: A Love Story” Prime, via Associated Press

Jennifer Lopez released an ego-smooching tandem of new movie and new music titled “This Is Me … Now,” and Lopezologists were ready.

Wesley Morris in The Times: “When Beyoncé explored love-pain, she called her project ‘Lemonade.’ When Lopez does it, heartache becomes cardio, lots of sweating and suffering and boxing and panting and heaving. You admire the shape of her body as much as you mourn her emotional discontent. It’s ‘Lululemonade.’” (Thanks to Josh Futterman, Manhattan, and Allen Tarlow, West Hollywood, Calif., among others, for nominating this.)

Anne Branigin in The Washington Post: “It will certainly take home the trophy for The Most J-Lo Thing J-Lo Has Ever Done. In it, she’s the magnetic center of the universe: She sings, she dances, she channels all of her rom-com superpowers — she even raps. It is her Magnum Lopez.” (Virginia Matish, Chesapeake, Va.)

Wesley also weighed in recently on a very different kind of performer in a very different kind of movie, appraising Paul Giamatti’s Oscar-nominated performance in “The Holdovers” as a profoundly — but not hopelessly — embittered prep school teacher: “You can measure the emotional magnitude of his righteousness by the creases, lines and squiggles that striate Giamatti’s forehead. What he’s after is richer than plain fury. Yes, he can give you Vesuvius. But here, in the most deeply inhabited, most sharply etched use to which that brow has yet been put, Giamatti has also located Lake Placid and charts a course toward it.” (Bonnie Oberman, Chicago, and Doug Sterner, Fort Lauderdale, Fla., among others)

Sticking with The Times, John McWhorter had some translingual fun with the first person plural: “In the Kwaio language of the Solomon Islands, the word for ‘we’ differs depending on whether you mean yourself and the person you’re talking to or yourself and someone else. There are also different words for ‘we’ if you are talking about yourself and three people including whom you are talking to or three people not including whom you are talking to or more than three people. Kwaio can leave an English speaker with we-ness envy.” (Sheldon Seidenfeld, Teaneck, N.J., and Keith Friedlander, Lloyd Harbor, N.Y., among many others)

Dwight Garner marveled at the writer Carson McCullers’s daily pharmaceutical intake as described in a new biography of her: “The lists of pills fill entire paragraphs. She must have rattled when she walked.” (Sally Hinson, Greer, S.C., and John Jacoby, Cambridge, Mass.)

And in a letter to the editor, Larry Stein of Glendale, Calif., observed: “President Biden would be an awful contestant on ‘Jeopardy!’ Instant recall and exact phrasing are not his strengths. But presidents do not play Foreign Policy for $200. They play it for real.” (Tim McFadden, Encinitas, Calif.)

To return to The Washington Post, Robin Givhan checked in on Senator Tim Scott’s stumping for Trump and saw “someone who has stared directly into the blinding sunlight of ambition and is trying to convince folks that he can still see clearly and accurately.” “Truth,” she continued, “floats around him like afterimages, those dark spots that bob in and out of focus.” (Betsy Snider, Acworth, N.H., and Robert Meadow, Los Angeles, among others)

In USA Today, Rex Huppke reviewed the shimmering gold sneakers that Trump recently branded and brandished: “They’re the go-to athletic shoe for people fleeing responsibility.” (Jon Rasmussen, Honolulu)

In Jacobin, Alissa Quart explored the disappearance or shrinking of many publications: “Pitchfork, long my go-to for tart and encyclopedic endorsements or takedowns of music, has been folded, in a much-reduced form, into GQ — two media entities that, if they were people, would have never spoken to each other in high school.” (Jazmyn Strode, Brooklyn, N.Y.)

In JoeBlogs, Joe Posnanski noted the significance of the baseball coach Don Mattingly’s rearing in the Hoosier State: “Don obviously grew up playing basketball; this being Indiana, after all, where both parents have to make consecutive free throws in order to take their baby home from the hospital.” (Perry Sailor, Longmont, Colo.)

In The Spokesman-Review of Spokane, Wash., Ammi Midstokke reacted to the latest compliment from her husband. “I was struck by a realization: Either I am perfect or my husband enjoys the relative peace that reigns when we both pretend I am,” she wrote. (Blake Albretsen, Spokane Valley, Wash.)

And in Bloomberg, Howard Chua-Eoan mulled the cheapening of “influence” as a concept and word: “The influencer culture has, for all practical purposes, blandly redefined influence as a commercial subset of social media. Its purpose is ever more followers and the monetization of those numbers, a frothy kind of circular prosperity. But real influence is made of sterner stuff — soul and sinew and heat and love. That’s what you see in the legacy of a truly influential American, restaurateur David Bouley, who died this week at the age of 70. Much more than a mountain of likes, he’s legend.” (Michael Costa, Bristol, R.I.)

To nominate favorite bits of recent writing from The Times or other publications to be mentioned in “For the Love of Sentences,” please email me here and include your name and place of residence.

The Complexity Of African American Vernacular English

February 22, 2024

by Taneesh Khera

Black English has a rich history that touches on everything from linguistics to literature to music—and, of course, the words we speak each and every day. Black English is also known as African American Vernacular English (AAVE), among other names, as discussed in the extensive historical usage note at its entry. This form of English is as complex, of course, as standard American English (SAE) and has many of its own distinct features.

Interestingly, defining AAVE as either a dialect of English, or a separate language altogether, depends on how you believe it began.

What is AAVE?

If you call AAVE a dialect, you many support the Anglicist Hypothesis that enslaved African people on Southern plantations acquired English from their British owners. This hypothesis was the widely held opinion of how AAVE evolved until the 1960s.

If you say it’s a language, though, you likely hold the Creolist Hypothesis view, that AAVE originated from a creole spoken on Southern plantations before the Civil War. A creole is a full language that develops from a pidgin, a super simple language created between two groups who need to communicate but don’t have a language in common. Linguists of this view say AAVE arose from a creole in West Africa that enslaved people already spoke before coming to the US.

Share Capturing Voices

Scholars still argue about what AAVE should be called, leaning one way or another at different times. In fact, in 1996 the school board in Oakland, California proactively, and unanimously, adopted the Creolist view. After three hours of hearing the arguments, the board revised literature to explicitly call AAVE a distinct language from SAE, recognizing it as the native language of around 30,000 African-American students within the school district. Hmm, is it just us, or is that the sweet taste of victory for diversity?

What do studies of AAVE show?

Dr. William Labov, creolist, sociolinguist, and professor at University of Pennsylvania, has spent his career studying linguistic change, starting with AAVE. It began in Manhattan, in a 1962 study that had him lurking through department stores across town, anonymously scribbling salespeople’s answers to his questions once he was out of their view. Oh, the things we do for science.

It was a landmark study, paving the way for further work on AAVE (and other minority language varieties) in the US. The plan: Ask each salesperson the same question and listen for the R in their reply. Then, ask them to repeat the answer to record the same phrase when they say it emphatically. The answer to the question: “fourth floor.”

In that study he found something odd. AAVE is a nonrhotic dialect, meaning the R isn’t pronounced (similar to Southern US dialects or British English). But, in the department store with more AAVE speakers, the number of Rs in emphatic speech rose to 18% (from 5% in casual speech). Labov concluded that at least some AAVE speakers understood emphatic speech to be rhotic (with the R pronounced), even though casual speech was nonrhotic.

What Labov found then, and what linguists see time and time again, is that context and environment affect speech. For AAVE speakers, it could be even more complex, because some also speak SAE and switch (or code-switch) between them, depending on the situation.

Going back to Labov, we could also realistically say the salespeople pronounced the R in emphatic speech when they realized the person asking was white. They could have thought Labov, a white man, didn’t understand the AAVE dialect, and then switched to SAE for emphasis.

How well do you know the language of Black History Month? Learn more about the history and usage of these essential terms.

How AAVE literature provides clues 

It’s hard to separate stress in AAVE from the grammar, the two are so linked. Scholars like Toni Morrison, writer and winner of the Nobel Prize in literature, have spoken of five present tenses in AAVE. In reality it’s probably more than that, if you factor in stress. See our list of the many present-tense variations below (many also feature the mighty-fine be copula or linking verb). All tenses mean something slightly different, and some can’t be translated into SAE so easily.

Final -s deletion: He work-∅. | He works.

Copula deletion: He ∅ workin’. | He is working at this moment.

Habitual “be”: He be workin’. | He is usually working.

“Been” (always unstressed): He been workin’. | He has been working.

BIN (always stressed): He BIN workin’. | He is working and has been for a long time.

Finna: He finna work. | He is about to work.

The use of negatives in AAVE is also highly evolved. In Standard English two negatives equal a positive: I didn’t not see it means “I saw it.”

In AAVE, like in math, two negatives equal a negative. And, sometimes negation can be used for emphasis to mean a bigger, bolder No. It’s also like several other languages in that way, including French, Spanish, Polish, Persian, Middle English … you get the idea. The linguistic term is multiple negation, and languages that allow it are said to have negative concord. See some examples below, taken from Toni Morrison’s beautiful novel Sula. Central to it are themes explored in other novels by and about black people: home and identity, race, class, and self-evolution.

“What you mean you didn’t mean nothing by it?”

“Don’t you say hello to nobody when you ain’t seen them for ten years?”

“Well, don’t let your mouth start nothing that your ass can’t stand.”

“Ain’t no woman got no business floatin’ around without no man.”

AAVE phonology and hip-hop

Stress is part of phonology, which is really rich in AAVE. In listening to music and interviews with some of the most culturally influential artists in music today, artists like Jay-Z, Kanye West, the Wu-Tang Clan, and Nas, there are a few features that stand out:

Consonant clusters simplify: perfek, projek, tes, wes, lef, han, des (instead of “perfect,” “project,” “test,” “west,” “left,” “hand,” and “desk”)

The [ th ] sound changes to [ f ], [ v ], [ t ] or [ d ]: baf, movuh, fink, wit, and dis (for “bath,” “mother,” “think,” “with,” and “this”)

Consonant clusters invert: poest and aks (instead of “poets” and “ask”) (this transposition of sounds is a form of what linguists call metathesis)

Hip-hop has done a lot to move our culture forward. Words and phrases that originate in hip-hop get siphoned into mainstream culture so quickly, speakers are constantly modifying and inventing vocabulary to keep representing Black culture accurately. But, hip-hop has always dealt with themes other genres shy away from, like race and racism, class, hierarchy, economic equality, financial freedom—to name only a few. For that, we all owe it thanks.

Want more?

For more from Taneesh Khera, read these: Louisiana Creole | Northern Cities Vowel Shift | Borders

Taneesh Khera is a poet and writer based in Oakland, CA. She’s also a linguist trained in the US, Mexico, and Chile. Se habla español. See more of her work here: taneeshcantos.com.

The Complexity Of African American Vernacular English

February 22, 2024

by Taneesh Khera

Black English has a rich history that touches on everything from linguistics to literature to music—and, of course, the words we speak each and every day. Black English is also known as African American Vernacular English (AAVE), among other names, as discussed in the extensive historical usage note at its entry. This form of English is as complex, of course, as standard American English (SAE) and has many of its own distinct features.

Interestingly, defining AAVE as either a dialect of English, or a separate language altogether, depends on how you believe it began.

What is AAVE?

If you call AAVE a dialect, you many support the Anglicist Hypothesis that enslaved African people on Southern plantations acquired English from their British owners. This hypothesis was the widely held opinion of how AAVE evolved until the 1960s.

If you say it’s a language, though, you likely hold the Creolist Hypothesis view, that AAVE originated from a creole spoken on Southern plantations before the Civil War. A creole is a full language that develops from a pidgin, a super simple language created between two groups who need to communicate but don’t have a language in common. Linguists of this view say AAVE arose from a creole in West Africa that enslaved people already spoke before coming to the US.

Share Capturing Voices

Scholars still argue about what AAVE should be called, leaning one way or another at different times. In fact, in 1996 the school board in Oakland, California proactively, and unanimously, adopted the Creolist view. After three hours of hearing the arguments, the board revised literature to explicitly call AAVE a distinct language from SAE, recognizing it as the native language of around 30,000 African-American students within the school district. Hmm, is it just us, or is that the sweet taste of victory for diversity?

What do studies of AAVE show?

Dr. William Labov, creolist, sociolinguist, and professor at University of Pennsylvania, has spent his career studying linguistic change, starting with AAVE. It began in Manhattan, in a 1962 study that had him lurking through department stores across town, anonymously scribbling salespeople’s answers to his questions once he was out of their view. Oh, the things we do for science.

It was a landmark study, paving the way for further work on AAVE (and other minority language varieties) in the US. The plan: Ask each salesperson the same question and listen for the R in their reply. Then, ask them to repeat the answer to record the same phrase when they say it emphatically. The answer to the question: “fourth floor.”

In that study he found something odd. AAVE is a nonrhotic dialect, meaning the R isn’t pronounced (similar to Southern US dialects or British English). But, in the department store with more AAVE speakers, the number of Rs in emphatic speech rose to 18% (from 5% in casual speech). Labov concluded that at least some AAVE speakers understood emphatic speech to be rhotic (with the R pronounced), even though casual speech was nonrhotic.

What Labov found then, and what linguists see time and time again, is that context and environment affect speech. For AAVE speakers, it could be even more complex, because some also speak SAE and switch (or code-switch) between them, depending on the situation.

Going back to Labov, we could also realistically say the salespeople pronounced the R in emphatic speech when they realized the person asking was white. They could have thought Labov, a white man, didn’t understand the AAVE dialect, and then switched to SAE for emphasis.

How well do you know the language of Black History Month? Learn more about the history and usage of these essential terms.

How AAVE literature provides clues 

It’s hard to separate stress in AAVE from the grammar, the two are so linked. Scholars like Toni Morrison, writer and winner of the Nobel Prize in literature, have spoken of five present tenses in AAVE. In reality it’s probably more than that, if you factor in stress. See our list of the many present-tense variations below (many also feature the mighty-fine be copula or linking verb). All tenses mean something slightly different, and some can’t be translated into SAE so easily.

Final -s deletion: He work-∅. | He works.

Copula deletion: He ∅ workin’. | He is working at this moment.

Habitual “be”: He be workin’. | He is usually working.

“Been” (always unstressed): He been workin’. | He has been working.

BIN (always stressed): He BIN workin’. | He is working and has been for a long time.

Finna: He finna work. | He is about to work.

The use of negatives in AAVE is also highly evolved. In Standard English two negatives equal a positive: I didn’t not see it means “I saw it.”

In AAVE, like in math, two negatives equal a negative. And, sometimes negation can be used for emphasis to mean a bigger, bolder No. It’s also like several other languages in that way, including French, Spanish, Polish, Persian, Middle English … you get the idea. The linguistic term is multiple negation, and languages that allow it are said to have negative concord. See some examples below, taken from Toni Morrison’s beautiful novel Sula. Central to it are themes explored in other novels by and about black people: home and identity, race, class, and self-evolution.

“What you mean you didn’t mean nothing by it?”

“Don’t you say hello to nobody when you ain’t seen them for ten years?”

“Well, don’t let your mouth start nothing that your ass can’t stand.”

“Ain’t no woman got no business floatin’ around without no man.”

AAVE phonology and hip-hop

Stress is part of phonology, which is really rich in AAVE. In listening to music and interviews with some of the most culturally influential artists in music today, artists like Jay-Z, Kanye West, the Wu-Tang Clan, and Nas, there are a few features that stand out:

Consonant clusters simplify: perfek, projek, tes, wes, lef, han, des (instead of “perfect,” “project,” “test,” “west,” “left,” “hand,” and “desk”)

The [ th ] sound changes to [ f ], [ v ], [ t ] or [ d ]: baf, movuh, fink, wit, and dis (for “bath,” “mother,” “think,” “with,” and “this”)

Consonant clusters invert: poest and aks (instead of “poets” and “ask”) (this transposition of sounds is a form of what linguists call metathesis)

Hip-hop has done a lot to move our culture forward. Words and phrases that originate in hip-hop get siphoned into mainstream culture so quickly, speakers are constantly modifying and inventing vocabulary to keep representing Black culture accurately. But, hip-hop has always dealt with themes other genres shy away from, like race and racism, class, hierarchy, economic equality, financial freedom—to name only a few. For that, we all owe it thanks.

Want more?

For more from Taneesh Khera, read these: Louisiana Creole | Northern Cities Vowel Shift | Borders

Taneesh Khera is a poet and writer based in Oakland, CA. She’s also a linguist trained in the US, Mexico, and Chile. Se habla español. See more of her work here: taneeshcantos.com.