2026 m. gegužės 6 d., trečiadienis
2026 m. gegužės 5 d., antradienis
The Twisted Mother Tongue
“Why We Talk Funny
By Valerie Fridland
Viking, 320 pages, $32
I was 11 years old when I learned that I talk funny. A new teacher who didn't share my Boston accent was surprised by the way I said "kindergarten." She mockingly repeated my pronunciation back to me: "kenndagaaten." It was the first of many verbal brushbacks I would receive well into adulthood -- the most public of which came from "Jeopardy!" host Alex Trebek when, as a contestant on the show, I buzzed in to answer a clue about the film "Cars."
"Caaahhhs," Trebek echoed back, eliciting laughter from the audience.
Like the biblical Ephraimites, who suffered at the hands of their enemies for their distinctive pronunciation of the word "shibboleth," I have often been marked out by my accent and occasionally made painfully aware that the way we speak has, in the words of Valerie Fridland, the power to "make us feel connected to those sounding like we do and isolated from those who don't."
In "Why We Talk Funny: The Real Story Behind Our Accents," Ms. Fridland, a professor of linguistics at the University of Nevada, Reno, explores both the physiological and social origins of human speech in an effort to understand why accents develop, how they change over time, and how they influence our perception of a person's origins, intelligence and social class. It's an entertaining, well-researched survey.
According to Ms. Fridland, human speech is largely shaped by two principles: ease of perception, which compels us to speak intelligibly for the benefit of others, and ease of articulation, which drives us to find the least effortful way of pronouncing a word. Our accents emerge from the tension between these two forces -- though how those accents are perceived depends on who is doing the hearing. In a formal context, economical speech may come off as crude and sloppy; among friends, it might seem authentic and endearing. Greater clarity can help a speaker seem more refined but can also strike the ear as cold or pretentious. "Accents," Ms. Fridland suggests "lead people to form opinions about you, mostly without you having much say in the matter."
The author notes that regional accents were largely absent from the U.S. until the late 18th century. Because the American colonies drew together speakers of so many different English dialects and European languages, the colonists found themselves drawn to an amalgamated tongue, one which would make collaboration in their new environment possible. "The increased contact among those from all walks of life dampened any strong regional accents that created barriers to communication while increasing the use of shared features -- something linguists refer to as linguistic leveling," Ms. Fridland writes.
Not long after the Revolutionary War, however, distinctions emerged that magnified the differences between coastal city folk and their inland countrymen, beginning with the deletion of "r" sounds that is still so prevalent among natives in Boston and New York -- a habit known to linguists as nonrhoticity. "Non-rhotic speakers essentially say the 'r' sound only when it occurs before a vowel sound, but not when it occurs after a vowel," Ms. Fridland says. In such accents, words like "father" and "farther" sound identical.
Nonrhoticity in the northeastern U.S. seems to have its roots in southern England. "The extreme amongst the vulgar in London doubtlessly is, to omit the r altogether -- to convert far into fah, hard into hahd, cord into cawd," wrote Benjamin Smart, an articulation expert, in 1836. But soon, nonrhoticity's prevalence in London made it fashionable. From there, it traveled by ship to ports such as Boston, where local grandees adopted it as a marker of cosmopolitanism. This new style, however, didn't penetrate far beyond the ports of the East Coast. As Ms. Fridland explains, "most other settlers, whose 'r' arrived with them, kept their 'r's and passed them down to their descendants."
A century on, people's perception of nonrhoticity changed again, as Irish and Italian immigrants in the American Northeast began to adopt local speech patterns, giving it a less genteel association. Ms. Fridland calls out Matt Damon's portrayal of the title character in the 1997 film "Good Will Hunting" as an example of how the nonrhotic accent can be seen as signal of a working-class identity.
Southerners are believed to have developed their nonrhotic accent separately. Ms. Fridland cites scholars who suggest its origins can be found in the nonrhotic West African dialects brought to the U.S. by enslaved people. Ms. Fridland's most surprising revelation may be that the hallmarks of Southern speech, such as the merging and shortening of vowels that make "pen" and "pin" sound identical, are relatively recent phenomena, emerging only in the decades following the Civil War. Evidence shows that the Southern drawl and "the laid-back y'all" didn't take hold until at least 1875. "Postwar animosity toward the North fostered greater Southern social and cultural unity," says Ms. Fridland, while the rapid urbanization of the South during Reconstruction brought more of its rural communities together in small towns, where local speech norms were strengthened.
Increased mobility after World War II, along with the rise of television and the advent of the suburbs, pushed Americans toward a more homogenous way of speaking. Ms. Fridland points to recent research showing that nonrhoticity, pin-pen merging and the Chicagoan tendency to substitute "th" with "d" (as in "da Bears") all became less prevalent over the past half-century. They are increasingly uncommon among younger American speakers. My 10-year-old daughter now regularly scolds me for my nonrhotic habits.
But Ms. Fridland cautions against assuming that we are destined to coalesce around a common manner of speech. "Geographic boundary-bending" media such as TikTok and Twitch have introduced a potent new dynamic, exposing young people to diverse linguistic influences faster than ever. Will the results be appealing? That, she writes, will be decided "in the ear and mind" of those who hear them.
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Mr. Brady's book reviews appear in the Journal and various other publications.” [1]
1. The Twisted Mother Tongue. Brady, Michael Patrick. Wall Street Journal, Eastern edition; New York, N.Y.. 27 Apr 2026: A15.
Pamokos iš laukinio, sunkiai suvokiamo gamtosaugos milžino gyvenimo: negrožinė literatūra
„Savo įtraukiančioje, lyriškoje knygoje „Ilgestis nežinomo pasaulio“ Miriam Horn pasakoja garsaus gamtininko George'o Schallerio istoriją.
Ilgestis nežinomo pasaulio: George'o B. Schallerio gyvenimas, autorė Miriam Horn
1959 m., kai 26 metų George'as Schalleris atvyko į Belgijos Kongą kaip zoologijos magistrantūros studentas, mažai kas, kas buvo žinoma apie kalnų gorilas, kilo beveik vien tik iš negyvų gyvūnų tyrimų. Pati idėja stebėti – o ne gaudyti ar šaudyti – didžiulius, krūtinę daužančius primatus buvo laikoma neapgalvota. Kai kurie ekspertai patarė Schalleriui dėvėti šarvus; visi manė, kad jis turėtų nešiotis ginklą.
Vietoj to jis paklausė vietinio pėdsekio patarimo: jei kas nors puola, „nebėk“.
Schalleris ne tik laikėsi savo pozicijos; jis apsigyveno tankiuose Virungos kalnų džiunglėse ir daugiau nei 400 valandų tapo pažįstama, nesaugoma būtybe, fiksuodamas gorilų pasaulį taip, kaip niekas anksčiau. Jis rinko įvairiausius duomenis apie jų įpročius – nuo to, ką jie valgė ir išmatas, iki to, kaip jie klajojo, žaidė ir poravosi – ir stebėjo juos romanisto akimis. „Gyvūnai nustojo būti anoniminiais rūšies nariais“, – vėliau rašė Schalleris, – „ir tapo individais, kurių kiekvienas turėjo silpnybių, jautrumo, problemų, šeimos ryšių, tradicijų ir praeities patirties.“
Schalleris, kuriam dabar 92-eji, negali būti laikomas šiuolaikinės lauko biologijos išradėju, tačiau jis neabejotinai yra ambicingiausias ir legendinis šios srities praktikas. 32 šalyse ir maždaug septynis dešimtmečius jis tyrinėjo ne tik primatus, bet ir tigrus, liūtus, laukinius šunis, gepardus, snieginius leopardus, jaguarus ir didžiąsias pandas – jau nekalbant apie laukines avis, antilopes ir gazeles. Jo darbai jį nuvedė į, regis, visus ekstremaliausius kraštus – nuo karštų Brazilijos pelkių iki Tibeto plynaukštės aukštumų.
Kaip Miriam Horn rašo savo įtraukiančioje, dažnai lyriškoje jo gyvenimo istorijoje „Ilgesiuosi nežinomo pasaulio“, Schalleris „transformavo mokslinę praktiką“, pasiekdamas nepaprastą artumą su savo gyvūnais, „prisitaikydamas prie jų ritmų ir taisyklių, stengdamasis pamatyti visatą jų akimis“. Jis taip pat tapo atkakliu gamtosaugos šalininku, kovodamas už nykstančių laukinių erdvių, būtinų jo charizmatiškos faunos išlikimui, apsaugą. Schalleris aprašė šiuos susitikimus daugiau nei 20 mokslinių ir populiarių knygų, įskaitant tokias klasikines knygas kaip „Gorilos metai“ ir „Serengečio liūtas“, kuri 1973 m. laimėjo Nacionalinę knygų premiją.
Hornas, aplinkosaugos temomis rašantis rašytojas, anksčiau dirbęs gamtosaugos grupėse, akivaizdžiai prisirišo ir žavėjosi savo tiriamąja tema ir savo velione žmona Kay, kuri dažnai dalijosi jo ilgos karjeros pavojais ir sunkumais. Abu bendradarbiavo su projektu, suteikdami autoriui prieigą prie intymaus šeimos susirašinėjimo. Tačiau, kaip aiškiai pabrėžia Hornas, nepaisant gausios tiriamosios temos bibliografijos ir daugiau nei 20 000 puslapių sukauptų lauko užrašų, nerangus, tylus Schalleris jai išlieka savotišku „neskaidriu padaru“, panašiu į tuos, kurių gyvenimus jis skyrė supratimui.
Hornas teigia, kad jo radikali empatija gyvūnams ir legendinis tvirtumas lauke iš dalies kilo iš jo paties vaikystės iškrypimų. Gimęs Berlyne 1933 m. amerikietės šeimoje Schaller, moteries, ištekėjusios už vokiečių diplomato Hitlerio tarnyboje, anksti išmoko pats savimi pasirūpinti bombardavimo, evakuacijos, maisto trūkumo ir šeimos išskyrimo akivaizdoje. Būdamas 14 metų, perduotas giminaičiams Misūryje, jaunasis „priešo ateivis“ netrukus rado prieglobstį kolekcionuodamas, medžiodamas ir stebėdamas gamtos pasaulį. Kaip pastebėjo vienas pusbrolis: „Manau, kad jis susitaikė su vienatve“, sutelkdamas dėmesį į išorinį pasaulį, o ne į skausmo valdymą.
Hornas mato terapinį, netgi dvasinį elementą Schallerio ryšyje su gamta, tačiau ji neromantizuoja jo darbo. Jo garsusis empirinis griežtumas susidėjo iš dalies išmatų sijojimo, vidaus organų turinio analizės ir žandikaulių matavimo. Tyrinėjamos vietovės buvo pilnos dėlių, erkių, lervų, skruzdėlių ir visokių kenkėjų, taip pat tokių botaninių malonumų kaip dilgėlės ir dygliuotasis gervuogės. Kad priviliotų dideles kates, kurias jis tyrinėjo, jis pririšdavo gyvas ožkas ir avis kaip grobį, nekantraudamas išgirsti kaulų traškėjimą. O jo stebėjimams reikėjo beveik vienuoliškos kantrybės, atkaklumo ir savęs atsižadėjimo laipsnio. Jis laukdavo dienas, savaites ar kartais mėnesius, kad pamatytų tuos gyvūnus, kurie buvo per drovūs pasirodyti – arba, metams bėgant, jų vis mažiau, kad būtų lengva rasti.
Horno biografija yra didžiosios gamtininkės pasiekimų šlovinimas, tačiau jos istorijoje yra melancholiškas lankas. George'as ir Kay Schaller buvo gyvenimo partneriai, o žaviausios knygos ištraukos apibūdina jų pirmuosius metus kartu Konge, Indijoje ir Serengeti, drąsiai įveikiant šį regioną ir auginant du sūnus. Kay ir toliau leisdavo laiką su juo laukuose ir, kaip jis dažnai pastebėdavo, buvo būtina jo tyrimams ir rašymui. Tačiau bėgant dešimtmečiams, kai George'o darbas ištisus mėnesius priversdavo jį praleisti užsienyje, jos susirašinėjimas įgavo liūdną toną, deklaruojant jos vienišumą ir izoliacijos jausmą. Kaip Kay (mirusi 2023 m.) rašė nepublikuotame Horno atrastame rašinyje, buvo „ironiška tekėti už žmogaus, kurio svajonės, regis, taip gerai atitinka jūsų pačių svajones, o paskui matyti, kaip jos jį nuneša“.
Didesnė tragedija, kaip pripažino pats Schalleris, yra gyvūnų, kuriuos jis taip artimai pažinojo, likimas. Jo sumani diplomatija jų labui suteikė jiems galimybę kovoti, nes Kinijoje, Afganistane ir pusšimtyje kitų šalių yra saugomi parkai, kurių plotas viršija 200 000 kvadratinių mylių. Dar svarbesnės yra vietos gamtosaugininkų ir laukinės gamtos mokslininkų kartos, kurias Schalleris skatino ir padėjo apmokyti, ir vyriausybės, kurios dabar laukinės gamtos parkus laiko ir pajamų, ir nacionalinio pasididžiavimo šaltiniu.
Tačiau, kaip daro išvadą Hornas, „Schalleris dešimtmečius matė katastrofą, kuri darosi vis baisesnė“, kai milijonas rūšių visame pasaulyje yra „nykimo spiralėje“ dėl pernelyg didelio medžioklės masto, buveinių naikinimo ir klimato kaitos. Schalleris rado didžiausią pasitenkinimą dingdamas paskutinėse dykvietėse plačiai atmerktomis akimis. Mes visi galėtume pasimokyti iš jo nuolankumo.
Ilgesys nežinomo pasaulio: George'o B. Schallerio gyvenimas | Miriam Horn | „Penguin Press“ | 630 psl. | 40 USD“ [1]
1. Lessons From the Wild, Elusive Life of a Conservation Giant: nonfiction. Rosen, Gary. New York Times (Online) New York Times Company. Apr 25, 2026.
Lessons From the Wild, Elusive Life of a Conservation Giant: nonfiction
“In her engaging, lyrical “Homesick for a World Unknown,” Miriam Horn tells the story of the famed naturalist George Schaller.
HOMESICK FOR A WORLD UNKNOWN: The Life of George B. Schaller, by Miriam Horn
In 1959, when the 26-year-old George Schaller arrived in the Belgian Congo as a graduate student in zoology, the little that was known about mountain gorillas came almost exclusively from the study of dead ones. The very idea of observing — rather than trapping or shooting — the massive, chest-beating primates was considered foolhardy. Some experts advised Schaller to wear armor; everyone thought he should carry a weapon.
Instead, he took a local tracker’s advice: If one charges, “don’t run.”
Schaller didn’t just hold his ground; he settled into the dense jungle of the Virunga Mountains and became a familiar, unguarded presence for over 400 hours, recording the gorilla world as no one ever had. He collected every sort of data about their habits — from what they ate and excreted to how they roamed, played and mated — and he observed them with a novelist’s eye. “The animals ceased to be anonymous members of a species,” Schaller later wrote, “and became individuals, each with foibles, sensitivities, problems, family ties, traditions and past experiences.”
Schaller, now 92, can’t be credited with inventing modern field biology, but he is certainly its most ambitious and fabled practitioner. Across 32 countries and some seven decades, he has studied not just primates but tigers, lions, wild dogs, cheetahs, snow leopards, jaguars and giant pandas — to say nothing of wild sheep, antelopes and gazelles. His work has taken him to seemingly every extreme clime, from the steamy wetlands of Brazil to the heights of the Tibetan plateau.
As Miriam Horn writes in her engaging, often lyrical account of his life, “Homesick for a World Unknown,” Schaller “transformed scientific practice,” achieving an extraordinary intimacy with his animal subjects by “assimilating to their rhythms and rules, endeavoring to see the universe through their eyes.” He also became a relentless advocate for conservation, fighting to protect the vanishing wild spaces necessary for the survival of his charismatic fauna. Schaller chronicled these encounters in more than 20 books, both scientific and popular, including classics like “The Year of the Gorilla” and “The Serengeti Lion,” which won the 1973 National Book Award.
Horn, a writer on environmental themes who previously worked for conservation groups, has obvious affection and admiration for her subject and his late wife, Kay, who often shared the dangers and deprivations of his long career. Both cooperated with the project, giving the author access to intimate family correspondence. But as Horn makes clear, despite her subject’s voluminous bibliography and more than 20,000 pages of accumulated field notes, the awkward, taciturn Schaller remains for her something of an “opaque creature,” not unlike those whose lives he devoted himself to understanding.
Horn suggests that his radical empathy for animals and legendary toughness in the field sprang in part from the dislocations of his own childhood. Born in Berlin in 1933 to an American woman who had married a minor German diplomat in Hitler’s service, Schaller learned early to fend for himself in the face of bombings, evacuations, food shortages and family separation. Deposited with relatives in Missouri at the age of 14, the young “enemy alien” soon found refuge in a life of collecting, hunting and observing the natural world. As one cousin remarked, “I think he became resigned to loneliness,” focusing on the outside world rather than dealing with pain.
Horn sees a therapeutic, even spiritual element in Schaller’s connection to nature, but she doesn’t romanticize his work. His famed empirical rigor consisted in no small part of sifting through scat, analyzing the contents of viscera and measuring jawbones. The terrains he explored were alive with leeches, ticks, maggots, ants and every kind of vermin, along with such botanical delights as stinging nettles and thorny bramble. To bait the big cats he studied, he would tie up live goats and sheep as prey, eager to hear the crunch of bone. And his observations required an almost monastic degree of patience, persistence and self-denial. He would wait for days, weeks or sometimes months in order to glimpse those animals too shy to appear — or, increasingly, as the years went by, too few to easily find.
Horn’s biography is a celebration of the great naturalist’s achievements, but there is a melancholy arc to her tale. George and Kay Schaller were lifelong partners, and the book’s most charming passages describe their early years together in Congo, India and the Serengeti, gamely roughing it while raising two sons. Kay continued to spend time with him in the field and, as he often noted, was essential to his research and writing. But with the passing decades, as George’s work kept him abroad for months at a time, her correspondence took on a plaintive tone, declaring her loneliness and sense of isolation. As Kay (who died in 2023) wrote in an unpublished essay discovered by Horn, it was “ironic to marry someone whose dreams seem to match so well with your own and then see them carry him away.”
The greater tragedy, as Schaller himself recognized, is the fate of the animals he came to know so intimately. His deft diplomacy on their behalf has given them a fighting chance, with protected parks in China, Afghanistan and a half-dozen other countries — amounting to over 200,000 square miles. More important still are the generations of local conservationists and wildlife scientists that Schaller encouraged and helped to train — and the governments that now see wildlife parks as a source of both revenue and national pride.
But as Horn concludes, “the disaster that Schaller witnessed across decades grows ever more dire,” with a million species worldwide on a “spiral to extinction” in the face of overhunting, habitat destruction and climate change. Schaller found his deepest satisfactions by disappearing into the last wildernesses, his eyes wide open. We could all stand to learn from his humility.
HOMESICK FOR A WORLD UNKNOWN: The Life of George B. Schaller | By Miriam Horn | Penguin Press | 630 pp. | $40” [1]
1. Lessons From the Wild, Elusive Life of a Conservation Giant: nonfiction. Rosen, Gary. New York Times (Online) New York Times Company. Apr 25, 2026.