TEXT 2 In search of the world’s hardest language Certain genre of books about English extols the language’s supposed difficulty and idiosyncrasy. “Crazy English”, by an American fo

TEXT 2

In search of the world’s hardest language

Certain genre of books about English extols the language’s supposed difficulty and idiosyncrasy. “Crazy English”, by an American folk-linguist, Richard Lederer, asks “how is it that your nose can run and your feet can smell?”. Bill Bryson’s “Mother Tongue: English and How It Got That Way” says that “English is full of booby traps for the unwary foreigner…Imagine being a foreigner and having to learn that in English one tells a lie but the truth.”

Such books are usually harmless, if slightly factchallenged. You tell “a” lie but “the” truth in many languages, partly because many lies exist but truth is rather more definite. It may be natural to think that your own tongue is complex and mysterious. But English is pretty simple: verbs hardly conjugate; nouns pluralise easily (just add “s”, mostly) and there are no genders to remember.

English spelling may be the most idiosyncratic -- “Ghoti,” as wordsmiths have noted, could be pronounced “fish”: gh as in “cough”, o as in “women” and ti as in “motion”. But spelling is ancillary to a language’s real complexity; English is a relatively simple language, absurdly spelled.

Perhaps the “hardest” language studied by many Anglophones is Latin. In it, all nouns are marked for case, an ending that tells what function the word has in a sentence (subject, direct object, possessive and so on). There are six cases, and five different patterns for declining verbs into them. But it also gives Latin a flexibility of word order. If the subject is marked as a subject with an ending, it need not come at the beginning of a sentence. This ability made many scholars of bygone days admire Latin’s majesty—and admire themselves for mastering it. Knowing Latin (and Greek, which presents similar problems) was long the sign of an educated person.

Yet are Latin and Greek truly hard? These two genetic cousins of English, in the Indo-European language family, are child’s play compared with some. Languages tend to get “harder” the farther one moves from English and its relatives.

Even before learning a word, the foreigner is struck by how differently languages can sound. Vowels, for example, go far beyond a, e, i, o and u, and sometimes y. Those represent more than five or six sounds in English (consider the a’s in father, fate and fat.) And vowels of European languages vary more widely; think of the nasal ones of French, Portuguese and Polish. Consonants are more complex, though. Some (p, t, k, m and n) appear in most languages, but consonants can come in a blizzard of varieties And languages with hard-to-pronounce consonants cluster in families.

Beyond sound comes the problem of grammar. On this score, some European languages are far harder than are, say, Latin or Greek. Latin’s six cases cower in comparison with Estonian’s 14[…] and the system is riddled with irregularities and exceptions. Slavic languages force speakers, when talking about the past, to say whether an action was completed or not. Linguists call this “aspect”, and English has it too, for example in the distinction between “I go” and “I am going.” And to say “go” requires different Slavic verbs for going by foot, car, plane, boat or other conveyance.

Dec 17th 2009 | NEW YORK From The Economist print edition (slightly adapted) http://www.economist.com/world/international/displaystory.cfm?story _id=15108609

Veja o comentário de um leitor do Texto 2 sobre a diversidade existente entre as línguas.

Uakari Monkey wrote:

Dec 18th 2009 4:42 GMT

Some Indians here in the Amazon can only count up to two. That's because their language has no words for greater numbers. What they have is a word for "more than two" (like "much" or "a lot"). It is possible to teach them to count, however, especially if they learn Portuguese while still young.

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