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While many of us in the northern hemisphere may have been away somewhere nice recently, not many of us would say that we’ve ‘summered’. That’s because most of us ‘summer’ where we ‘winter’. Which is to say, we don’t have a lot of money. If you’ve ever been in a conversation with someone who makes liberal use of the verb form of summer – which is, coincidentally, also its nominal form – you’ve probably rolled your eyes at such egregious snobbery. Unless, of course, you were simply waiting your turn to share about your own summering, in which case it is probably correct to assume you also enjoy yachting, golfing, and cardiganing. To summer is such a hoity-toity verb that we less wealthy holiday-makers can’t but snicker at its use. Indeed, in 2007, when Mike Huckabee was a candidate for the Republican nomination for US president, he used it on the campaign trail to differentiate himself from his Ivy League rivals: “For my family, summer was never a verb. We never summered anywhere.”
Well, plenty of other people have summered – for more than 500 years. According to Trish Steward, assistant editor at the Oxford English Dictionary, the verbal use of summer “goes back quite a long way,” its first recorded use being 1440. At that time, says Steward, people were summering their cattle and livestock, which meant they were pasturing them in a specific area. The verb winter was used in the same way. In fact, both are used in the King James Version of the Bible in the Book of Isaiah, in a verse announcing judgment upon Ethiopians: “the fowls shall summer upon them, and all the beasts of the earth shall winter upon them.” In the 18th Century, said Stewart, “once you get people with money or leisure time,” the verb summer started being applied to people. Doing words Though summering smacks of money or yesteryear, there’s another reason it might raise a few eyebrows: it’s clearly a noun. More precisely, it’s a verbed noun. Way back in our childhoods, we all learned the difference between a noun (person, place, or thing) and a verb (action word). With such a tidy definition, it was easy to spot the difference. Not so in adulthood, where we are expected to foot bills, and chair committees, and dialogue with political opponents.
Chances are you didn’t cringe at the sight of those verbed nouns – because you’re used to them. You use them every single day. We all do. “The verbing of nouns is as old as the English language,” says Patricia O’Conner, author of Woe Is I: The Grammarphobe’s Guide to Better English in Plain English. In fact, she says, experts estimate (not to be confused with the noun form ‘estimate’, which is pronounced differently) that 20% of all English verbs were originally nouns. And the phenomenon seems to be snowballing (there’s another one). Since 1900, says O’Conner, about 40% of all of our new verbs have come from nouns. This is called denominalisation, which is the technical term for converting a noun to a verb. There are two ways to accomplish this conversion. You can either affix the noun with a suffix, like -ify, as in purify or clarify. Or you can do what we’ve been doing, and just steal a thing and do it. The name for the second option is zero derivation – because nothing is changed when the verb is derived from a noun in this way. Too confusing? Let me Calvin and Hobbes it for you. “I like to verb words,” Calvin tells Hobbes in a famous 1993 comic strip. “I take nouns and adjectives and use them as verbs,” he explains to his bemused tiger, citing the word “access.” “Remember when access was a thing? Now it’s something you do.” His conclusion? “Verbing weirds language.” Verbal blend Fowler’s Modern English Usage notes that even though conversion is quite ubiquitous, plenty of grammarians object to the practice. Strunk and White, for example, in Elements of Style – the Bible for the use of American English – have this to say: “Many nouns lately have been pressed into service as verbs. Not all are bad, but all are suspect.” At which we all giggle because we suspect our favourite verbal curmudgeons are making a joke. The Chicago Manual of Style takes a similarly reluctant stance, advising writers to use verbs in this way “cautiously, if at all.” Benjamin Dreyer, copy chief at Random House, says the when verbing happens, “we notice or we don’t. We either like the sound or we don’t.” That is, someone verbs a noun, and we let them continue their sentence, or we interrupt them with screams or threats of physical assault.
“Sometimes a new verb comes along and it takes people by surprise,” says O’Conner. “They object to it because people resist what is unfamiliar to them.” That’s why even though we’re comfortable hosting a party, we might take umbrage at the thought of ‘medalling’ in sport, which is not to be confused with meddling in sport. Speaking of sport: fewer of us are comfortable with the thought of podiuming, even though it seems to be a favourite of anyone covering the summer Olympics. I’m sure, however, that will soon be replaced with a new Rio 2016 verb: “If you don’t have any plans later, what do you say we drive to the next town and Ryan Lochte a petrol station?” For the record, verbing proper nouns isn’t new either. Ever sneakily vanish from a situation? Then you’ve Houdinied. Same thing with the verb to boycott, for which we can thank Captain Charles Boycott of Irish Land War fame. We do this with places, too, though hopefully you’ve never been Shanghaied. For these verbs to work, which is to say, for these verbs to be understood as the speaker intends, the hearer needs to know a little background. For example, if all you know about Ryan Lochte is that he’s a fast swimmer, you might conclude I’m inviting you on a fast swim rather than on a night of mayhem in Brazil.
Most verbed nouns, though, don’t require all involved parties to be up on their pop culture references. That’s one of the reasons why verbed nouns are so popular: they are so easily understood. “I’m sure the first person who asked, ‘Does this cloth yellow?’ was instantly understood,” says O’Conner. Same thing for the first person who was asked to hand something over. If I invite you to Facebook me, you’ll know exactly what I mean. I suppose I could ask you to contact me on Facebook or to connect with me on Facebook or to annoy me with a few thousand invitations to play Candy Crush on Facebook. But why bother? Facebook me is easy to say. And English-speakers like easy. Thankfully, English encourages our ease. The reason English has the largest lexicon of any language, says Steward, is because parts of speech very readily change functions. Rain is spelled and pronounced the same whether it’s a noun or a verb. That’s not the case with all verb/noun word pairs. Have you ever housed someone in your house? Then you know the verb form, it sounds like there’s a ‘z’ in it. Maybe you would like to present me a present? Whether you’re the giver or receiver depends on which syllable you stress. Future tense So are there any rules for verbing? Dreyer, the editor, doesn’t offer a rule, but suggests that people who verbify (his preferred word) think twice about verbing a noun if it is easily replaced by an already existing popular verb. Make sure it’s descriptive but not silly-sounding, he says. But in the end, style is subjective. “Everything is in the ear of the beholder. Or hearer.” Of course, sometimes we want our verbs to sound silly, which is especially the case on social media. Think of phrases like “Do you even science, bro?” or “Let me librarian that for you!” The verbing is being done ironically. The speakers aren’t intending to introduce a new conversion into the English language. Intended or not, if a word becomes popular enough, it just might make its way into a dictionary. “For the OED, it’s definitely a question of usage, and to what extent that usage penetrates language itself. If in 10 years, people are using science as a verb non-ironically – then I don’t know, it might potentially be added to the dictionary.” Think of all the sciencing our grandchildren might do one day! But who knows what the future holds? For now, back to summering. 尽管不久以前，许多北半球的居民可能都选了个好地方外出度夏，但没有多少人会承认自己是“去夏天”（summered）了。其原因莫过于，大多数人的“夏天”和“冬天”去的是同一个地方。也就是说，大家都只是普通人，“壕不起来”。 如果你什么时候遇到一个张口闭口都是“去夏天了”（summering）的家伙，那么，这般令人发指的言语或许会引得你大翻白眼。当然，情况也不尽然如此——要是能用“去夏天”一词，那么也可以使用“去游艇”（yachting）、“去高尔夫”（golfing）。 “去夏天”就是这么一个装腔作势的动词，以至于我们这些经济实力不那么雄厚的度假者消受不起如此的款待，只在有人显摆时，不由得窃窃发笑。实际上，早在2007年的美国总统大选中，角逐共和党候选人提名的麦克·哈克比（Mike Huckabee）就巧借这一点，与常青藤出身的竞争对手们划清界线，他在自己的竞选巡游演讲中称：“我们这家人永远不会把‘summer’当成一个动词使用，所以我们从来没有‘去夏天’。”
好吧，其实在过去的500多年里，其他曾经“去夏天”的人可不在少数。《牛津英语大词典》（Oxford English Dictionary）的助理编辑翠西·史都华（Trish Steward）指出，夏（summer）的动词化用法“由来已久，”其最早的记载见于1440年。史都华说，那会儿，民众纷纷赶着自家的牛群和其它牲畜去避暑，也就是说他们到一个特定的区域进行夏季放牧。同理，冬（winter）也可以这样用。确切地说，这两个词的动词化用法均出现于《英王钦定版圣经》（King James Version of the Bible）的《以赛亚书》（Book of Isaiah）中。在其中一节里，耶和华宣告了对埃塞俄比亚人的判决：“夏天鸷鸟要宿在其上，冬天野兽都卧在其中。”史都华曾表示，在18世纪，“一旦民众或拥有金钱，或得着空闲，”避暑活动飞入寻常百姓家，“summer”就渐渐被用在人上面。 动作性的词语虽然“去夏天”这一说本身就有点铜臭味重、有点老旧过时，但还有另一个为它招来些许不满的由头：想都不用想，“summer”是一个名词；更准确地说，它是一个被动词化的名词。早在孩童时代，名词（人物、地点或事物）和动词（动作性的词）之间的区别就无人不知、无人不晓。凭借如此严谨的定义，想要找出其中差别，轻而易举。而等我们成年以后，又是另一番光景：说付账单，动词却用“foot”；说主持委员会工作，动词却用“chair”；与政敌你来我往、唇枪舌剑，动词却用“dialogue”。 可能在看到那些动词化了的名词时，你依然云淡风轻——因为你对这种用法习以为常：你每天都在这么用，而大家也和你一样。《惨哉我也？英语语法轻松学》（Woe Is I: The Grammarphobe’s Guide to Better English in Plain English）的作者帕特里夏·奥康纳（Patricia O’Conner）指出：“名词的动词化用法和英语这门语言一样古老。”她表示，实际上，专家估算（“estimate”做动词和作名词的读音可不同，这里是动词用法，不要搞混了哦）在全部英语动词中，有20%原是名词身。并且，这种现象似乎正在滚雪球（snowball）般地疯狂增长；而自1990年以来，40%左右的动词新词都源于名词。
这便是所谓的“动词化”（denominalisation）——一个专业术语，表示将名词转化成动词。在此，有两种实现转化的方式：其一，在名词后面加后缀，比如“purify”或“ clarify”中的“-ify”；其二，照葫芦画瓢，干脆“剽窃”一个事物性的名词，然后朝上施以动作，直接就当动词用起来。后者又名“零位派生”，因为这种名词到动词的派生方法不对原词做任何改变。 是不是太玄乎了？没事，看我为你呈上卡尔文（Calvin）及其布老虎霍布斯（Hobbes）的故事，让他们讲给你听。 1993年，曾有一部大火的连环漫画。其中，加尔文对霍布斯说：“我喜欢把名词和形容词当成动词使用，”他的布老虎对此倍感困惑，于是加尔文以“access”这个单词为例进行解释：“还记得这个本意为‘入口’的名词吗？现在，它可是个你会做的动作：进入。” 那他到底想表达什么呢？“动词化把语言变怪。”（Verbing weirds language.） 语言大杂烩福勒（Fowler）《现代英语用法词典》（Modern English Usage）指出，尽管随处可见词性转换，但是多数语法学家对这种做法均嗤之以鼻。举例来说，美式英语宝典《风格的要素》（Elements of Style）的作者斯特伦克（Strunk）和怀特（White）便在其书中阐发到：“近来，许多名词被强行地临时用作动词。在这里，并不是说它们无一可取，而只是说它们有待推敲。”对此，我们都吃吃傻笑，因为我们以为这两位最受爱戴的语言学老顽固在说笑。《芝加哥格式手册》（Chicago Manual of Style）采取一种与此类似的委婉拒绝的态度，建议作者们在使用这种方式派生出的动词时，“如果非用不可，也请慎之又慎。” 《兰登书屋》（Random House）的总编辑本杰明·德雷尔（Benjamin Dreyer）表示，遇到动词化的情况时，“我们要么特别在意，要么毫不留心；要么对由此而生的发音心生好感，要么反响平平。”换言之，如果有人将一个名词动词化，我们或让他继续说开去，或伴着几声尖叫或者威胁恐吓性的手舞足蹈，将其强行打断。 奥康纳表示：“有时候，一个新生动词会让人们大吃一惊。人们对自己不熟悉的事物心怀抗拒，因而会对新生动词嗤之以鼻。”这便解释了为什么即便我们对举办宴会（hosting a party，在这里，原为名词的host被动词化了）的说法并无不适，但却一想到在运动项目中“夺牌”（medalling，原为名词的medal被当成动词来用）就耿耿于怀，在此不要将其与染指（meddling）体育项目搞混。说到运动方面：不反感“登台领奖”（podiuming，podium的动词化用法）这一提法的人更是少之又少，尽管在夏季奥运会的报道中，这个词好像是记者们的心头大爱。然而，我确信不出多久，一个2016年里约奥运会的用词便会以新代旧，独领风骚：“如果你对稍后的行程并无安排，那你觉得我们驱车前往下一个镇子，火速找个加油站‘洛赫特’一下怎么样？”（美国选手洛赫特在里约奥运谎报在加油站被抢劫）
必须指出的是，对名词进行恰到好处的动词化运用同样不是新兴做法。你是否曾有过神不知鬼不觉地从某个情境中猛地消失不见的经历？那么，你算玩过胡迪尼戏法（Houdinied）。它和“抵制”（boycott）这个动词是同一个衍生方式，后者源于在爱尔兰土地战争中名声大噪的查尔斯·杯葛（Captain Charles Boycott）。我们也将其他地名转换成动词，不过我希望你从未被胁迫诱拐过（Shanghai本意上海，动词化后的含义是拐骗）。 想要让这些动词达到传情表意的效果，亦即听话方能够通过这次动词来理解发言方所要表达的意思，那么听话方必须多少知道一点背景知识。例如，如果你们所有人都对瑞安·洛赫特（Ryan Lochte）有所了解，知道他是一名快如闪电的游泳运动员，那么你或许会以为我在邀你一起游泳，而不是共度一个巴西骚乱之夜。 将来时那么，动词化有没有什么规则可循？身为编辑的德雷尔（Dreyer）认为并没有这样的规则，相反，他建议，倘若你是那位进行动词化（他的首选词）的人，而你想动词化的那个名词可以轻而易举地在已有的大众化词库中找到意思相仿的词，那么请你要三思而后行。他强调，务必确保转换后的词在传情表意上惟妙惟肖，而又不听起来像个愣头青。 但是，说来说去，对风格的感受因人而异。“仁者见仁，智者见智，一切尽在旁观者或听话者的耳朵里。” 当然，有时候，我们想要自己的动词听起来傻傻的，在社交媒体上尤其如此。想象诸如“哥们儿，你到底科不科学？”动词化的用法令人啼笑皆非。说话者并不打算往英语语言中引入一种新的转化。 不管有意无意，一旦一个单词足够普及。“对于《牛津英语大词典》（OED）来说，收录与否百分百取决于使用程度以及这种使用在多大程度上渗透到了对语言本身中。如果在未来十年内，人们纷纷将‘科学’当成一个正正经经的动词来用——那么我就说不清了，它有可能会被加进词典中。” 想象一下，我们的孙子孙女有朝一日说不定会与各种科学探索为伍呢！然而，谁又说得清未来会怎么样呢？就眼下来说，快去夏天吧。 |
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