I’ve been having the same repeating conversation for a while now about how language is constructed and how it should be treated in everyday use. I can be a bit of a grammar Nazi at points (which gets to a true nadir when I try explaining the proper use of the gerund), which I suspect comes from at different points between 11 and 18 taking classes in four different foreign languages (well, three and a half). In particular, in A-Level French I had grammar drilled into me. I’m grateful for it, as it actually made me construct sentences in English far better than I did previously.
On the other hand, when I write (by this I mean creative writing, rather than essays etc), my style is very different, and tends to come in a form that involves many commas and several adjectives (for example, ‘the house was <adjective a>, <adjective b>, <adjective c>’ where a almost equals b and b almost equals c). I’ve been trying to reconcile my grammar fundamentalism with the fact that, when I write, I normally have an image first and use language to describe what I already have planned out. When you have such a distinct image, this is normally the priority, rather than forming perfect sentences with all the prepositions lined up nicely.
This is what I mean by organic language; that language is essentially a tool for communicating pre-existing ideas and images. The communication from person a to person b is the final goal, and grammar should be used as guidelines to make this communication as seamlessly as possible. However, if grammar begins to get in the way of communicating an idea as closely as possible, then hierarchically the rules have just become more important than the goal.
Taking this into account, I’m a firm believer in what I started referring to as the ‘literary Heisenburg’ (excuse the particle physics reference); it’s not possible to recreate an idea entirely through language, any language. The point of language is that it’s a common reference point for multiple subjects; it’s an objective compromise between different people’s way of expressing themselves. Ideas, on the other hand, are purely subjective; it’s one person that comes up with them, and they exist purely in that person until they choose to communicate them to others. Because the idea was created before its creator attempted to describe it (obviously), it’s not going to fit perfectly into pre-existing language and language-structures. Therefore, no verbal/written communication is going to be able to encapsulate that idea entirely. The more you try to explain an idea, the more the person to whom you’re communicating it will form their own conception of what you’re describing, which won’t contain every aspect of your idea, as you’re not able to communicate it entirely. Yes, I know, this isn’t precisely what the Heisenburg principle is, but you can see where I’m coming from (which I suppose is the entire subject of this post).
This idea about language as a means as opposed to an end also fits into how language develops, rather than just about how it’s used. As new ideas are formed (every day, in every second) and begin to be communicated, language needs to learn how to adapt to try and come as close as possible to explaining the original idea (or you end up with language and grammar becoming the goal). This leads to language being used in new and different ways. These new ways are then picked up by others to better express their ideas; this is how language evolves. One example is Derrida coming up with the term ‘deconstruct’ – a mixture of destroying something into its fragments and then recreating those fragments into something else (or at least something that’s better understood and appreciated in a new light). Derrida needed a word to describe his latest concept, mixed two pre-existing words and came up with something that more or less described what he meant. Other people realised this term was useful, and it eventually became part of everyday language.
I’ve kept the term ‘language’ intentionally broad. I’m obviously not claiming to understand how all other languages work, but I’d be surprised if broadly the same principles couldn’t be applied to other languages. So, by ‘language’ I partially mean any other language. In addition, it could be a mix of languages; I’ve noticed people who speak more than one language fluently (or at least confidently) tend to incorporate aspects of both (or all) languages into their everyday speech; sometimes one language will explain an idea better, sometimes another, but rarely one on its own. If you have more than one set of rules you can use, why not? The goal, after all, is to communicate the idea, and to do this best (at least to my mind) you should use all tools possible.
