Language Blog Roundup: WOTY news, ’tis, shelfies

Welcome to this week’s Language Blog Roundup, in which we bring you the highlights from our favorite language blogs and the latest in word news and culture.

In word of the year news, Dictionary.com’s selection for 2013 is privacy; Geoff Nunberg, like Oxford Dictionaries, is going with selfie; and Collins Dictionary has chosen geek. Curious about the origin of geek, dork, and other nerdy words? Check out this post from io9.

Meanwhile twerk is the word TIME readers most want banished from the English language, and bitcoin is the Australian National Dictionary Centre’s wordy pick of the year. And where there’s bitcoin, there are bitcoinaires, as spotted and explained by Barry Popik.

In other language news, in Norway all library books must be digitized by law; a Jane Austen portrait sold for almost 165,000 pounds; and New York Times book reviewer, Michiko Kakutani offered her 10 favorite books of the year.

This week we learned the origin of the word hipster; how to tell statements from questions in Valley Girl talk; and what the heck “the Desolation of Smaug” means. At The Atlantic Megan Garber wondered if delightful is the new cool, Deborah Fallows taught us the language of the skies, and, as reported by the CBC, we discovered that the L’Académie française decided that sexting in French is not sextos but textopornographie.

Ben Zimmer traced the history of the phrase embrace the suck, recently uttered by Nancy Pelosi. Arika Okrent gave us eight beautiful snow scenes from literature and 11 proclitic words such as ‘tis, ‘twas, and ‘twere. Grammar Girl explained why we call people redheads and not orangeheads.

From the OUP blog  is a post on the different shades of gray and grey, and from OxfordWords Blog, the lasting impression of fictional titles. From Barry Popik we got the story behind the phrase Wolf of Wall Street.

In words of the week, Fritinancy selected scrumpy, “rough cider made from dried or withered apples,” and affluenza, “a painful, contagious, socially transmitted condition of overload, debt, anxiety and waste resulting from the dogged pursuit of more.”

The Word Spy spotted attention theft, “the intrusion on a person’s attention by unwanted and unauthorized text, sounds, or images”; participatory Panopticon, “an all-encompassing system of surveillance created by the people being watched through their use of mobile technologies and trackable transactions”; and gift creep, “a gradual increase in the value or extent of one‘s gift-giving.”

The Dialect Blog looked at the changing meaning of nauseous; the “sickness” accent; and young New Zealand English.

Peter Leonard wrote a tender obituary for his father, Elmore. The New Yorker told us about David Foster Wallace’s favorite grammarian and recapped this year’s literary feuds. Maria Popova told us about authors’ sleeping habits versus their literary productivity.

This week we also learned about the origins of the word sheeple and how to talk like a real-life line cook. We loved this round-up of (some NSFW) band names, these Japanese love hotel names that could be band names, and these 20 famous authors as dolls (Ernest Hemingway action figure? yes please!).

Tired of selfies? You’re in luck: now there’s the shelfie.

Wordnik shelfie

Don’t feel like working? You’re in luck again. Check out this OED birthday word generator and find out which words originated the year of your birth.

That’s it for this week! Until next time, happy holidays!

(Photo: CC BY 2.0 by LuChOeDu]

8 Words from Mark Twain

On this day in 1884, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn was published for the first time. In celebration we’ve rounded up eight words coined or popularized by the novel’s author, a guy you might know as Mark Twain.

bicentennial

“New Orleans intended to fittingly celebrate, this present year, the bicentennial anniversary of this illustrious event; but when the time came, all her energies and surplus money were required in other directions, for the flood was upon the land then, making havoc and devastation everywhere.”

Life on the Mississippi, 1883

Usage of the word bicentennial, meaning occurring every two hundred years, has been steadily increasing since the 1880s. The usage rose sharply in the 1970s, probably due to the United State Bicentennial, and then again in the mid-1980s, perhaps due to the bicentennial of the Statue of Liberty.

blip

“We took him a blip in the back and knocked him off.”

St. Nicholas, 1894

Twain’s usage of blip here means “any sudden brisk blow or twitch; a quick popping sound,” according to the Oxford English Dictionary (OED), and is probably imitative in origin. The word came to refer to “a spot of light on a radar or sonar screen” around 1945, and the figurative meaning of “a temporary or insignificant phenomenon” in the mid-1960s.

A brontosaurus on a 1962 panorama of the Front Range Foothills

brontosaurian

“Two of these cults are known as the Shakespearites and the Baconians, and I am the other one—the Brontosaurian.”

Is Shakespeare Dead? 1909

Brontosaurian here means “of or pertaining to a brontosaurus,” says the OED, and therefore figuratively, “antiquated; clumsy, ineffectual.”

The word gained peak usage in the 1920s, about 10 years after Twain’s, before dropping off and gaining some up-and-down frequency from the 1940s through the 1980s before dropping off again.

bug

“Well, sir, his dead-lights were bugged out like tompions; and his mouth stood that wide open that you could have laid a ham in it without him noticing it.”

Rambling Idle Excursion, 1877

Bug here meaning “to protrude” might be an alteration of bulge, although one could imagine it meaning having eyes resembling that of a bug.

cocoon

“We snatched on a few odds and ends of clothing, cocooned ourselves in the proper red blankets, and plunged along the halls and out into the whistling wind bareheaded.”

A Tramp Abroad, 1880

Twain’s use of cocoon as to mean to wrap in something resembling a cocoon is the earliest recorded. The word cocoon ultimately comes from the Greek kokkos, “seed, berry.” Cocoon also has a newer meaning of “to stay inside and be inactive.”

lunkhead

“So the duke said these Arkansaw lunkheads couldn’t come up to Shakespeare; what they wanted was low comedy—and maybe something ruther worse than low comedy, he reckoned.”

Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, 1884

A lunkhead is slang for a stupid person or blockhead. This word may be an alteration of lumphead. The usage of lunkhead far surpasses that of lumphead.

slim jim

“Got it, slim Jim!”

A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, 1889

A slim Jim here refers to “a very slim or thin person,” and also means anything long, thin, or narrow, such as slim-jim pants or a slim-jim tie. In 1902, says the Online Etymology Dictionary, slim jim referred to a type of “slender cigar,” and in 1975 to the meat snack.

slumgullion

“We could not eat the bread or the meat, nor drink the ‘slumgullion.’”

Roughing It, 1872

The slumgullion Twain is referring to “a cheap drink.” It also means “a watery meat stew” and “offal or refuse of fish of any kind; also, the watery refuse, mixed with blood and oil, which drains from blubber.”

The word may come from slum meaning “in metallurgy, [the] same as slime,” and the dialectal gullion, “mud,” which may come from the Irish Gaelic goilín, “pit.”

[Photo: “Brontosaurus,” CC BY 2.0 by Miranda Celeste Hale]

Language Blog Roundup: Nelson Mandela, all caps, dalek

Welcome to this week’s Language Blog Roundup, in which we bring you the highlights from our favorite language blogs and the latest in word news and culture.

We were saddened by the passing of Nelson Mandela. Mandela was a leader in the anti-apartheid movement and served 27 years in prison for “sabotage and conspiracy to overthrow the government.” Upon his release he sought to abolish apartheid, becoming in 1994 South Africa’s first black president. Mandela was 95.

In language news, we learned about millions of people in China who resist speaking Mandarin, preferring their native dialects. U.S. military slang expanded dramatically during the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, and Code Switch at NPR told us why Chaucer said ax instead of ask, and why some still do.

Teddy Wayne at The New York Times considered the death of the catchphrase. Mark Bowden at The Atlantic praised fancy words and BBC News wants to bring back some fun old words. Meanwhile, Android has a bizarre list of banned words.

In case you didn’t know, it’s almost Christmas, and Arika Okrent rounded up six grammar points to watch out for Christmas songs. Don’t know what to get the bibliophile in your life? Get some ideas from this roundup of Best Books articles from Reverb. Still confused? Try NPR’s Book Concierge, an interactive guide to 2013’s best reads.

Did you know the period is pissed? Yes. It. Is. And using all caps isn’t just about yelling anymore, according to Anne Curzan at Lingua Franca, ALTHOUGH IT SEEMS LIKE IT, DOESN’T IT? At The Week, James Harbeck offered a guide on how to use all caps in a useful and not annoying way.

James also gave us a simple way to remember how to use you and I versus you and me. Constance Hale taught us the difference between careen, career, and carom.

OxfordWords blog listed eight words we need to know for The Hunger Games. Ben Zimmer celebrated the Doctor Who 50th anniversary with the story behind the word dalek.

io9 recounted the experiment that led to the concept of thinking outside of the box. Mental Floss listed 12 words that originated in the funny pages. Barry Popik traced the history of the word gastrocrat, an influential person in the food world, and the chilly phrase colder than a witch’s tit.

Robert Lane Greene discussed the decrease in formality in western languages. Arika Okrent rounded up 15 words etymologically inspired by animals and told us how long crazy German words come to be.

At Lingua Franca, Geoffrey Pullum looked at whether and when, and Anne Curzan considered the freshperson problem. At Macmillan Dictionary blog, Michael Rundell discussed the language of conspiracy and Stan Carey peered into the grumbling heart of the curmudgeon.

On his own blog, Stan examined the colloquial use in Ireland of the word cat to mean “awful, unpleasant, rough, terrible, bad, calamitous, or very disappointing.”

Word Spy spotted street as a verb meaning “to release a dangerous or helpless mentally ill person from a hospital because there are no private or public psychiatric beds available,” and perching, “while in a car in a crowded parking lot, waiting for, and possibly following, a person who is going to exit the lot and thus free up a parking spot.”

Fritinancy’s words of the week included geofencing, “a technology that defines a virtual boundary around a real-world geographical area,” and bitcoin, “a decentralized, open-source, peer-to-peer virtual currency.” Fritinancy also took a look at the annual overuse of ‘tis the season, and a lulu of a naming trend.

In other naming news, the Boston Globe discussed the connection between popular dogs’ names, pop culture, and owners’ tastes. Meanwhile, TV nerds are naming their babies after characters from Breaking Bad and Homeland.

This week we learned about the slang of hobos, English con men, Parisian prostitutes, and German bandits. We loved these beautiful bookshelves of questionable functionality and these posters that turn authors’ words into art. We’ll try to remember these life lessons from Joan Didion, whose birthday it was yesterday.

That’s it for this week!

[Photo via Wikipedia, by Paul Weinberg]

Language Blog Roundup: Doris Lessing, selfie, because

We were saddened by the passing of Doris Lessing. Don’t miss Margaret Atwood’s moving homage to the Nobel prize-winning author.

It’s closing in on the end of the year, which means it’s word of the year time. The Oxford English Dictionary’s selection was selfie. However, Katherine Connor Martin at OUPBlog wasn’t satisfied with just one WOTY and selected 12, one for each month — with graphs!

In other language news, a judge ruled in favor of Google, agreeing “that its scanning of more than 20 million books for an electronic database, and making ‘snippets’ of text available for online searches, constituted fair use.” Publishers Weekly banned a few uniquely compelling and poignant words. The NPR Code Switch blog discussed the origins of the term hoodlum.

Hunger Games fans! Catching Fire is out today, and Slate has a textual analysis and comparison of Hunger Games, Twilight, and the Harry Potter series.

This week we learned how to speak Death Metal English, how we’ll swear in the future, and about 12 mistakes almost everyone makes when writing about grammar mistakes.

We also found out about a universally understood syllable (huh? you heard us). Meanwhile, James Harbeck explained why pain is expressed differently in different languages.

Robert Lane Greene explored the impossibility of being literal and assured us that technology changing language is okay and that “only dead languages never change.”

Ben Zimmer discussed grand bargains, Goldilocks as metaphor, and adjective-ass construction. Arika Okrent told us why defining the is so difficult, and gave us 11 teeny units of measurement, three reasons for syllabically ambiguous words, and 26 of Noah Webster’s spellings that didn’t catch on.

At Language Log, Victor Mair offered some Pekingnese put-downs and Mark Liberman took on Okie uptalk. At Macmillan Dictionary blog, Liz Potter related the story behind the phrase Bob’s your uncle, and Stan Carey wondered if banning slang was counterproductive.

On his own blog, Stan gave us some hair-raising etymology and took a look at because as a preposition (because grammar), which inspired Megan Garber at The Atlantic to take a further look (because awesome).

Fritinancy’s words of the week were petrel, “the English translation of the Chinese word Haiyan, which is the international name of the ‘supertyphoon‘ that has ravaged large areas of the Philippines in recent days,” and Friendsgiving, “a Thanksgiving meal shared with friends rather than family.”

Word Spy spotted pistachio principle, “the tendency to eat less food given certain visual cues, particularly evidence of the amount of food consumed, such as pistachio shells”; vanity height, “unusable space at the top of a tall building created by a spire or similar extension added only to give the building extra height”; and kid credentialing, “having a child participate in activities, programs, and experiences that will look good on the child’s future college application.”

Billy Baker at The Boston Globe compared the accents of Boston mayors, old and new. The Dialect Blog examined Americans imitating Canadians.

Mental Floss gave us haters and lovers, and old-timey sexting acronyms. The Modern Farmer explained why being the black sheep is a bad thing and other ag-idioms. Pacific Standard offered a peek inside the world of competitive laughing, where laughaletes compete in categories such as Diabolical Laugh, the snort laugh, and the Alabama Knee-Slapper.

We agree these 10 terms will help us appreciate fantasy literature, were surprised cheese lexicon could be headache-inducing, and wondered if these new terms for female body parts were necessary.

We love this map showing San Francisco’s literary history and this one that reveals who is saying the F-bomb where. We adore all of these pop culture librarians, but Giles will always be our favorite.

That’s it for this week! Until next time, happy Friendsgiving!

[Photo via NPR]

The Words of George Eliot

Mary Ann Evans, the English novelist who went by the pen name of George Eliot, was born on this day in 1819.

A journalist and translator, Eliot was one of the leading writers of the Victorian Era and “used a male pen name. . .to ensure her works would be taken seriously” and “to escape the stereotype of women only writing lighthearted romances.”

Her 1872 novel, Middlemarch, is considered by some to be “the greatest novel in the English language.”

In celebration of the author’s birthday, here are eight words you might not know she coined or popularized.

chintzy

 “The quality of the spotted one is best, but the effect is chintzy and would be unbecoming.”

Letter, 1851

Chintzy means “decorated with chintz,” but also gaudy, trashy, stingy, or miserly. Eliot’s is the earliest recorded usage of this figurative sense.

Chintz, which is a “cotton cloth printed with flowers or other patterns in different colors,” comes from the Hindi chint, which comes from the Sanskrit chitra-s, “clear, bright.”

More English words that come from Indian languages.

floppy

“The caps she wore would have been pronounced, when off her head, utterly heavy and hideous — for in those days even fashionable caps were large and floppy.”

“Scenes of Clerical Life,” George Eliot’s Works, 1858

As you probably guessed, floppy comes from flop, an old word dating from 1600 as a variant of flap, which is probably imitative. Floppy disk is from about 1974.

horribile dictu

“In some circles the effort is, who shall make the best puns, (horribile dictu!) or the best charades.”

The Writings of George Eliot, 1854

Horrible dictu translates from Latin as “horrible to relate” and is analogous with mirabile dictu, “wonderful to relate.”

light headed

lampshade

“I have bought the Lucifers and done my duty about the Lamp shade, but to get one it will be necessary to send the old one as a pattern.”

Selections from George Eliot’s Letters, 1850

The next time put a lampshade on your head to party, you can thank George Eliot for coining the word, or at least having the earliest recorded usage.

Lampshading or lampshade hanging is dealing with an element of a story that threatens the audience’s suspension of disbelief “by calling attention to it and simply moving on.”

The Lucifers in the quote, by the way, refer to a brand name of matches.

lunch-time

“But after this week I shall be most glad if you and Dr Congreve will come and see us just as and when you would find the least inconvenience in doing so — either at lunch-time (half past one) or at a later hour.”

Life of George Eliot: As Related in Her Letters and Journals, 1859

The word lunch came from the word luncheon in the early 1800s, says the Oxford English Dictionary. Around 1931, lunch began to surpass supper as the word for a noontime meal. Lunchtime, while used by Eliot in the mid-1850s, didn’t really start to gain popularity until after 1960.

pop

“But there is too much ‘Pop.’ for the thorough enjoyment of chamber music they give.”

Life of George Eliot: As Related in Her Letters and Journals, 1862

Michael Jackson would be nothing without George Eliot — or at least he would need a different moniker. Eliot’s usage is the earliest recorded one of pop meaning to popular music. Pop is also a count noun, says the OED, referring to “a popular song or piece of music.”

self-criticism

“The self-criticism which prompted the suppression of the dedication did not, however, lead him to improve either the rhyme or the reason of the unfortunate couplet.”

“Worldliness and Other Worldliness: The Poet Young,” The Essays of George Eliot, 1857

In the early 1930s, self-criticism gained the added meaning of “criticism undertaken publicly by oneself of one’s actions, attitudes, or policies, considered as a duty in order to ensure conformity with communist party doctrine.”

Siberia

Siberia

“Probably this projected transportation may be to a Cape of Good Hope instead of a Siberia.”

Letters, 1841

Eliot’s is the earliest recorded usage of Siberia to mean, figuratively, “a remote undesirable locale.” This area of central and eastern Russia had been “used as a place of exile for political prisoners since the early 17th century.” In the early 1890s, construction of the Trans-Siberian Railroad began, and “from 1801 to 1914, an estimated seven million settlers moved from European Russia to Siberia.”

The population and settlement continued to expand through the twentieth century although “in the early decades of the Soviet Union (especially the 1930s and 1940s), the earlier katorga system of penal labour camps was replaced by a new one that was controlled by the GULAG state agency.” Many of these camps and prisons were in Siberia.

[Photo: “Chintz,” CC BY 2.0 by CycloKitty]
[Photo: “lightheaded,” CC BY 2.0 by Peter Castleton]
[Photo: “Siberia,” CC BY 2.0 by Giuseppe Tescione]

Words of Boardwalk Empire

The season finale of Boardwalk Empire, one of our favorite shows, airs this Sunday, and we thought we’d honor it with, what else, our favorite words from the season.

Taking place in Prohibition Era Atlantic City, the show features 1920s slang, crime speak, and black Southern lingo that has migrated its way north. Have a drink (just make sure it’s not a Mickey Finn), get zozzled, and enjoy.

anarchist

J. Edgar Hoover: “A nationwide network of organized criminals? Cyril Briggs, Marcus Garvey, Emma Goldman. Anarchists. Political agitators. That’s where the Bureau needs to be putting it resources.”

“The North Star,” October 13

The word anarchist originated in the 1670s. It comes from the French anarchiste, which comes from the Greek anarkhia, “without rule.”

During the French Revolution, Robespierre used the term anarchiste to refer disparagingly to “those on the left whom he had used for his own ends during the French Revolution but was determined to get rid of.”

Cyril Briggs was a journalist who established the African Blood Brotherhood, “a radical U.S. black liberation organization,” which was often at odds with Marcus Garvey’s organization, the Universal Negro Improvement Association and African Communities League. Emma Goldman was “was an anarchist known for her political activism, writing, and speeches.”

biggity

Oscar’s nephew [to Chalky]: “So you the biggity man?”

“Havre de Grace,” November 17

Biggity, meaning self-important or conceited, originated as 19th century U.S. Southern slang. The word is a play big and may be influenced by the word uppity.

boola boola

Willie Thompson: “Well, I’m away at college now.”
Mickey Doyle: “Boola boola.”
Clayton: “That’s Yale. We go to Temple.”
Mickey: “Funny, you don’t look Jewish.”

“Acres of Diamonds,” September 22, 2013

Boola boola comes from the fight song of Yale University. The song was composed around 1900 and may come from an earlier song, “La Hoola Boola,” by Robert Allen “Bob” Cole and Billy Johnson, two “extremely popular African American singer-songwriters of the time.”

bunco artist

Nucky: “Meems told me there’s a skunk in my cellar.”
Eli: “The justice guy? He’s a bunco artist, start to finish.”

“Havre de Grace,” November 17

A bunco artist is a con artist. Bunco, a swindle or confidence trick, may be an alteration of the Spanish banca, “card game.”

cabbage

Dean O’Banion: “Some cabbage coming your way. Wops over in Cicero.”

“Resignation,” September 15, 2013

Cabbage is U.S. slang for money, “especially in the form of bills.” This sense originated around 1903, according to the Oxford English Dictionary (OED). Lettuce as slang for money came about around the same time.

chin-wag

Ed: “Having a little chin-wag with William here.”

“The Old Ship of Zion,” October 27, 2013

Chin-wag means “light, informal conversation.” The term originated around 1879, says the OED. To chin also means “to make idle conversation; chatter” while tongue-wagging is another term for gossip.

copacetic

Chalky [to Richard ripping a flag for a sling]: “Are you sure that’s copacetic?”

“White Horse Pike,” November 10

Copacetic means satisfactory or acceptable. The term may have originated in 1919 or possibly earlier in 19th century U.S. Southern black speech.

There are many possibilities for copacetic‘s language of origin, according to the Online Etymology Dictionary, including Latin, Yiddish, Louisiana French (coupe-sétique), and Native American. However, “none is considered convincing by linguists.”

grippe

Dean O’Banion: “I’m selling hydrangeas, George, not the grippe.”

“Resignation,” September 15, 2013

The grippe is influenza or the flu. The word comes from the French gripper, “to seize.” The word influenza (of which flu is a shortening) comes from the Medieval Latin īnfluentia, “influence,” so called “from the belief that epidemics were due to the influence of the stars.”

in Dutch

Goon: “Does it get me out of Dutch?”

“Marriage and Hunting,” November 3, 2013

To be in Dutch means to be “in trouble or disfavor” with. The phrase originated around 1912, according to the OED, and may come from the old stereotype of the Dutch being “stolid, miserly, and bad-tempered,” says World Wide Words.

We first discussed the phrase in Dutch in our post on words from Breaking Bad.

Mickey Finn

Nucky: “Who slipped him the Mickey? . . . .The Mickey Finn, the knockout punch.”

“Erlkönig,” October 6, 2013

A Mickey or Mickey Finn is “an alcoholic beverage that is surreptitiously altered to induce diarrhea or stupefy, render unconscious, or otherwise incapacitate the person who drinks it.”

The term originated around 1915, says the OED, coming from the name ‘Mickey’ Finn, “a Chicago saloon-keeper of the late 19th and early 20th cent. who was alleged to have drugged and robbed his customers.”

From a December 1903 issue of the Chicago Daily News: “The complete defense advanced by ‘Mickey’ Finn, proprietor of the Lone Star saloon..described..as the scene of blood-curdling crimes through the agency of drugged liquor.”

pixilated

Dean O’Banion: “Your boy Al? He’s pixilated or something. He won’t listen to reason.”

“William Wilson,” October 20, 2013

Pixilated (not to be confused with pixelated) means “behaving as if mentally unbalanced; very eccentric.” The word originated around 1848, coming from the word pixie plus the suffix –lated (as in elated).

The origins of the word pixie are more obscure. It may come from the Swedish dialetical pyske, “small fairy,” or its ultimate source may be in Cornwall and “thus something Celtic.”

The word pixelated is, as expected, much newer, coming from pixel, which is perhaps a combination of picture and element. The word pixel originated in the mid-to-late 1960s.

scratch

Chalky: “I signed contract with that man. He connected in New York. And I worked on him so that club can turn some scratch.”

“New York Sour,” September 8, 2013

Scratch is slang for money. The origin for this is unknown: neither the Online Etymology Dictionary nor the OED have any theories. Daily Writing Tips guesses it could be from the idea of “one has to struggle as if scratching the ground to obtain” money.

zozzled

Clayton: “Just so you know, I was zozzled last time or else I’d never have let them do that.”

“All In,” September 29, 2013

‘To be zozzled means to be drunk and is probably an alteration of the older sozzled, which is from about 1886.

Sozzled comes from sozzle, to spill or splash, often in a messy manner. Related may be soss referring to a dirty puddle, falling lazily into a seat, or a lazy person. Soss may be imitative in origin. To sossle means to “go about in an aimless idle manner,” according to the OED.

Zozzled seems to have first appeared in writer Edmund Wilson’s 1927 Lexicon of Prohibition, “a catalogue looking back to [Ben] Franklin’s The Drinker’s Dictionary.” While this episode of Boardwalk Empire takes place in 1924, we’re guessing that the word zozzled was in use for several years before Wilson recorded it.

Language Blog Roundup: dude, Victorian slang, shaming and mansplaining

Welcome to this week’s Language Blog Roundup, in which we bring you the highlights from our favorite language blogs and the latest in word news and culture.

We were saddened by the passings last week of music legend Lou Reed and Marcia Wallace, an actress most known as the voice of The Simpsons’ Mrs. Krabappel.

To Kill a Mockingbird author Harper Lee is suing a local museum in the town that inspired her famous book for “exploiting” her fame “without offering compensation.” In light of plagiarism accusations against junior U.S. Senator Rand Paul, Rick Webb at Medium offered a proposed taxonomy of plagiarism.

To kick off Movember, OxfordWords Blog offered a guide to words for moustaches. Remember remember the fifth of November? Here’s how Guy Fawkes inadvertently created the word guy.

Scientists at Microsoft might have figured out how to “enable the hearing to understand sign language—and vice versa.” The editors of DARE, the Dictionary of American Regional English, are going back into the field to map “tens of thousands of folk terms from sea to shining sea.” Meanwhile, a non-profit group in Washington, D.C. wants to build a science fiction museum.

Michael Rosen at The Guardian told us why H is the most contentious letter of the alphabet. We learned about the strange rise of Denglisch, or English-German hybrid words; the racial history of the “grandfather clause”; what’s so Chinese about a Chinese fire drill; and about the Slants, an Asian-American band that’s trying to trademark its name.

The Atlantic gave us 20 years of dumb new words while The New Statesman traced the 500-year history of trying to make irony more easily understood. In the land of dude, Allan Metcalf examined the origins of the word dude and The Atlantic recounted a brief history of its usage.

Mark Peters did some shaming shaming and mansplained mansplain. Katy Steinmetz dropped hyphens like they were hot.

Arika Okrent rounded up eight things she learned from being corrected by Mental Floss readers; explained why ghost is spelled with an h; and listed 11 suffixes that give us new, often terrible words. James Harbeck gave us a brief history of African click words and told us about the word zarf.

Ben Zimmer explained how sugarcoating moved from the pharmacy to the White House, revealed the hidden history of the word glitch, and told us about Schwa Fire, “a digital publication that will marry language geekery with long-form journalism.”

At Macmillan Dictionary blog, Michael Rundell told us the stories behind the words iconoclast and loophole, while Stan Carey discussed apharesis,“the dropping of an initial sound or sounds of a word.” At Lingua Franca, Anne Curzan related sports in everyday speech and Allan Metcalf considered the rise of hey over hi.

Fritinancy examined the use of urban in brand names and for word of the week selected aril, “a fleshy, usually brightly colored cover of a seed.”

Word Spy spotted Copenhagenization, “the process of making a city safer and more accessible for bicyclists and pedestrians,” presumably like Copenhagen, Denmark; nasty effect, “the polarization of opinions on a particular topic caused by exposure to uncivil commentary about that topic”; and glowing rectangle, “a mocking or satiric reference to a smartphone, tablet, laptop, or computer screen.”

Dialect Blog delved into the Boston pronunciation of the word brother as well as the accents of transplants, in this case that of the Daily Show’s Aasif Mandvi.

From the Poetry Foundation, we learned about the rivalry between literary siblings. Bigstock Blog told us how French toast, Swedish meatballs, and English muffins got their names.

We loved these 19th-century criminal slang terms and these delightful idioms from Victorian times. We drooled over this list of 15 famous authors and their fashion label counterparts (one Edith Wharton please!).

For favorite sites of the week, it’s a 21-way tie between Zombie Ipsum and these 20 literary Tumblrs.

As for this cool bookish place called Bookworm Gardens: we want to go to there.

That’s it for this week!

[Photo: Via WIRED]