As we all know, it’s great to have the right word at the right time. It’s fundamental to communicating well, and communicating well is essential to connecting with others and being understood.
And, after a certain age, having the right word, at the right time, can be a huge relief, when, for example, you say to someone, “I was just going to the library to pick up a book” and the word “library” is right there for you to say instead of, “oh, um, you know, that, the—what’s it called?” Everything is smooth and in its groove, and you are feeling reassured that synapses are firing as they should instead of fritzing as they could.
Having the right word at the right time can also bring variety to conversation and writing and help avoid running certain words right into the ground, as has happened with the words “icon” and “iconic.” I discussed this in Taking a Look at an Icon—the Word Itself.
I have also been concerned about the word “boast,” which means
to talk with excessive pride and self-satisfaction about one’s achievements, abilities, or possessions
Or, when referring to a person, place, or thing, “possessing a feature or aspect that is a source of pride.”
I have noticed “boast” appearing frequently in the newspaper where I live. For example, in just one day, I ran across the word in an interview with a restauranteur, a story on an athlete, and another about a redecorated home—
The one room with a major pop of color is the study-turned-office, which boasts a bold, bluish-green built-in.
The room sounds very tasteful but I think “boasts” sounds a little off in this context—the “bold, bluish-green built-in” is a source of pride? Well, I guess it could be. But I also think a less aggressive or resonant word might have made for less discordant reading—“features,” or “has,” maybe? “Boasts” tries too hard.
Another word recurring ominously in my newspaper is “exclaim.” In just one article about a new eatery published the other day, the word appeared six times. Discussing her enterprise, the owner “exclaimed” half a dozen times about items on her menu, her co-workers, and future opportunities.
“Exclaim” means to “cry out suddenly, in surprise, anger, or pain.” In the context of the owner’s remarks, it was a stretch for me to imagine her “crying out in surprise, anger, or pain” about her business—and if that is what she really did, I am not sure I would like to go there, even if it has the best chocolate croissants in the city.
The frequency and off-keyness of “boast” and “exclaim” has made me wonder whether AI was involved in the process of writing or editing the stories. I think, in general, that a person writes and edits with more nuance and less affectation than a fake person. AI tries mighty hard to be human. But it is not, and it shows.
In any case, just to be sure that we are not on the cusp of another “icon” and “iconic” tsunami, I looked into the prevalence of “boast” and “exclaim.” As you can see from the graphs below, both words are far less current than they once were. Although it looks as if their usage began to inch up about five years ago, I am not concerned. I think that what I see in my newspaper must be just a local phenomenon.
How about having words that you never knew you needed? That occurred to me the other morning when I read an article in The New York Times about words that the Oxford English Dictionary has added to English from other languages.
One of the words that’s migrated to English is “gigil,” pronounced ghee-gill, a Tagalog word used to
emphasize that intense feeling that comes from bearing witness to a beautiful, doll-like baby [or] to refer to the overwhelming urge to pinch or squeeze a golden retriever puppy.
I can see where the word could come in handy. Beautiful babies and puppies abound. But I am not sure the word would readily come to mind for me. I am more likely just to say something like, “Aww!” Plus, it’s unlikely that anyone would understand it. When I checked its usage, “gigil” did not even register, despite what the folks at Oxford say.
An Irish phrase that’s been added also caught my eye—“to act the maggot” describes someone who’s behaving foolishly and at risk of feeling embarrassed. Immediately I thought of many of our political leaders—but then I cancelled that thought, realizing that the second half of the definition would be unlikely to apply. They seem incapable of embarrassment.
For this sort of individual, I can think of many words that would apply, and none of which I would need to import, either. I am also certain, maybe I can even boast or exclaim, that none of the words would be “icon” or “iconic.”
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Having an affinity for words and their meanings has proven to be one of the most fun things about writing for me. I like to peruse my notebook for words I have saved that resonate. I hate to think we would give in to AI for our word choice decisions, but that seems to be the way. Nice piece; I enjoyed it!
You have company! Except I have to say that I would not mind if I were to forgot "icon" and "iconic."