My question is about poetry's relationship with the languages from which it is constructed. Many words from the vocabularies of natural languages are onomatopoeic (where words sound like sounds they describe: 'bang!'; 'crack'; etc.) and some argue that other words 'sound' like the objects they describe. In one of his novels' insightful footnotes, Terry Pratchett proposed that "There should be a word for words that sound like things would sound like if they made a noise, he thought. The word "glisten" does indeed gleam oilily, and if there ever was a word that sounded exactly the way sparks look as they creep across burned paper, or the way the lights of cities would creep across the world if the whole of human civilization was crammed into one night, then you couldn't do better than "coruscate"." (Equal Rites by Terry Pratchett, pg 207) Whether or not these observations can be considered correct is the first part of my question. Although "a rose by any other name would smell as sweet", it seems possible that some words and names are more like the objects they describe than other, less suitable ones (though it is difficult to think about this from a perspective unbiased by one's own language). If one does come to the conclusion that some words are better suited to the objects they describe than others in the manner implied by the Pratchett quotation, then the following interpretation of the poet's situation becomes viable. Poetry was once described as "the best words in the best order" (Coleridge), but if we accept the fact that some words are better suited than others to the objects they describe, and therefore that some words would be better if replaced, then those "best words" are in fact only the best by virtue of being established. The poet's body of raw material, language, which he or she draws from in the creative process, could be better suited to the task at hand, a statement which begs the question of whether it could and ought to be made better, and in what ways. I find the possibilities implied by this fascinating. Will poets one day write in languages not merely better suited to the task at hand than others (e.g. using 'the language of love', French, when being romantic), but finely crafted and tuned to best express the author's sentiments? I have heard of experimental poetry by Christian Bök written in artificial languages, although he may have had different aims in mind. Should we attempt to be disposed towards the acceptance of new words in an attempt to improve or expand our own languages, and be tolerant of seemingly alien poetry and literature? The issues to do with a restricted languages effects on a culture have been explored in work such as George Orwell's 1984, and in 'A Clockwork Orange' Anthony Burgess used heavy slang to communicate a sense of the culture that gave rise to it, but how much investigation but has there been into the viability of the expansion and improvement of language, in the ways that I think might be possible?

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The project of "improving" "the" language is one that has captured the imaginations of many people over time, but it seems to me to be a foolish one to undertake. Let me explain, by explaining my use of scare quotes.

First: "the" language. There's no such thing. If you look at speakers of so-called "English," you'll find that they will differ in their vocabularies, in their grammars, and above all, in the emotional and aesthetic associations they attach to their words. What binds us together is merely the fact that we can to a significant degree understand each other's verbal behavior. But the engines of linguistic change are perpetual motion machines. Slang, idioms, metaphors, abbreviations, invented words -- they all pop in and out of existence, and they're all good. Amidst all this variety, talk of "the" English language is nothing more than abstract idealization -- useful for some scientific purposes, perhaps, but not to be thought of as literally true of human linguistic activity.

Second: "improve". You can't improve a product until you know what function it's supposed to perform. Your suggestion -- that we invent words whose inherent properties resemble the things they refer to -- is presumably intended to improve language's capacity for expressing thoughts. Well, maybe it would, maybe it wouldn't. There's some reason to think that communication goes most smoothly when the referential properties of the linguistic medium are purely conventional -- when nothing about the word itself causes us to linger in thought about the relation betweent the word and the object. But in any case, it looks like people who find need of more evocative connections simply contrive them. That's how "sunny side up" became standard restaurant talk for "fried egg that has not been turned over in the pan." On the other hand, the number of such originally fresh expressions that have become dead metaphors suggests that the pressure of the communicative function causes the erosion of the meaningful associations. I recently overheard a child asking a grownup what he meant by the expression "broken record." And how many people can explain anymore what it is literally to "upstage" someone?

But in any case, language has myriad functions, and improvement in one area need not bring improvement in some other. Furthermore, human beings appear to be extraordinarily resourceful in adapting language to their particular purposes. One of the things language does, for example, is although us to express our understanding of social nuance. Not only do we observe linguistic conventions that encode social relationships -- consider the use of "titles" like "Mr." "Ms." "Dr." -- but we all recognize different norms of verbal expression appropriate to different social circumstances. We use different language when playing with children than when arguing with our mates than when attending a funeral. Moreover, we all recognize that styles change -- new linguistic forms are always developing, and old ones are decaying. Artists who work with language do what artists always do -- they exploit the inherent properties of their medium to create things with aesthetic interest. People interact with other people who speak differently than they do, and pick up some of their expressions. Scientists discover new things, and have to name them. Teenagers need to speak in a way their parents cannot understand. Politicians must contrive new euphemisms to obscure new crimes. With all these means available to use for adapting language to our news, what requires improvement?

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