Morphemes & Context

This week’s readings were predominantly concerned with morphology, world-level variations, and how nearly synonymous words are defined in context of one another. After reading the more foundational Haspel readings and the semantically-focused Atkins/Levins reading, I began to consider how we creative or derive definitions of words in the context of existing language.    

Both Haspel readings, which were more technical than the other two, and focused on breaking down language into definable components, made me think more deeply about the hierarchical structure of language and the way in which we construct meaning. Much of English is a product of combining morphemes — in varying order and number — to create new lexemes. However, the combinatory rules are not universal. For example, though inept is a word — and “in” as a prefix generally means “not” (think: incompetent, inefficient, ineffective), “ept” is not. Furthermore, though “er” at the end of a word is usually understood to mean “more” (think: lighter, happier, lonelier), “exciteder” is not a word, and “funner,” though in some dictionaries, is not smiled upon in a formal context. So where do these rules come from, and how do we determine what can work its way into our shared lexicon? If anyone who knows the meaning of the word “inept” could deduce the meaning of the word “ept” with no effort (at least consciously), where is the boundary between words and non-words? 

I was intrigued by the Atkins/Levins reading, and their contrastive study of the definitions of shake-words. After reviewing three major English translation dictionaries, they concluded that there was “no attempt to define these words as a group constructively; nor to identify one as superordinate of the others” (91). The challenge to define words without their hyponyms builds on our classes earlier conversations about language learning and the extent to which language is inherent versus taught. As an English speaker, I intuitively understand the subtle distinction between “quiver” and “shake” but would struggle to write a concise, universal definition for either without using phrases like “the feeling when” or “in response to x.” This realization made me consider to what degree language learning — and therefore definitions of words — is contextual. It’s quite possible that I conceive of the distinction between near-synonyms in a certain way purely because of my parents’ use of the relevant words or an elementary school teacher. It’s also challenging, perhaps especially in English, which has so many near-synonyms, to separate meaning from context. Perhaps words, as individual units, hold little semantic significance without surrounding words to provide context or relevance.