I’ve just run across perhaps the worst result of fear-of-ending-a-sentence-with-a-preposition (Präpositionbeendigungangst?) that I have ever seen. In a FB post about the movie Cleopatra, we find the following sentence:
When Twentieth Century Fox decided to salvage the production of this movie following the resignation of original director Rouben Mamoulian, the studio gave Elizabeth Taylor another demand in her contract which no other actor or actress had up until that time: director approval, of which it was unheard.
The normal phrasing would be something like “a demand unheard-of until then,” but whoever wrote that got into a syntactical tangle and found themself staring at the prospect of ending the sentence with “unheard of.” The result is what you see before you. Please, English teachers, think before you subject your helpless students to zombie rules!
Braaaaains!
http://www.quora.com/Who-said-That-is-someting-up-with-which-I-will-not-put
Wow. As a structural malapropism, the only thing I could compare it to is this (0:30-0:35):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ejfYttZCnps
Incidentally, some Hatters may assume the above link to derive from a comedy, but in fact, as an introduction to the mental abilities, modesty and ethics of certain professors I once had the misfortune of knowing, it is a documentary as mercifully brief as it is marvelously accurate.
Of prepositions, maybe recall a sentence with extra, such as:
It’s located over along down on in there–you can’t miss it.
Präpositionsbeendigungsangst, please, with Fugen-s. Unless you want to sound like the military or the revenue service.
Really? Who doesn’t want to sound like the revenue service!
Magnificent.
Presumably the writer started with the natural “which was unheard of”, got nervous about the final preposition so shunted it to the front, but then got (rightly) even more nervous about the flatly ungrammatical “of which was unheard” so threw it in a dummy it, wiped their brow and moved on.
It could just about be made to parse by adding the infinitival phrase implied by the expletive, “of which it was unheard to demand” (though still of course without resembling any kind of English actually spoken on this planet).
Präpositionsbeendigungsangst, please, with Fugen-s.
I worried about that, of course, but I didn’t know whether the -s- should go after the first element, the second, or both, so I just let it go and figured someone would correct me.
A valiant try, Hat ! A small quibble: Präpositionsbeendigung is a slightly infelicitous compound, since it seems to mean “[ending / getting rid of] prepositions”. Example use of Beendigung: Beendigung des Streiks.
The intended meaning is “placing prepositions at the end”. So maybe Präpositionspostfixangst. Added benefit: no more worries about Fugen-s.
Vielen Dank!
Prothesitelophobia.
GesatzGesetzSatzendungspräpositionsangst.Prothesitelophobia
While trying to make sense of that, I found that “atelophobia is a fear of imperfection or making mistakes”. So your word means “fear of injudiciously proponing* a wooden leg” ?
*verb. Scottish. to propose or put forward, esp before a court.
No, “fear of inappropiately proponing a wooden leg” is prosthesitelophobia. (It’s a common confusion. I blame cultural Marxism in our schools.)
There’s no rule, not even a zombie one, against ending a sentence with an adjective. “Unheard-of” is an adjective, and nothing but an adjective. That it’s transparently a compound and one of its component morphemes is sometimes* a preposition when appearing in isolation is neither here nor there.
*I don’t think “of” is really a preposition when it appears as part of the phrasal verb** “to hear of,” but I’m not sure if there’s a completely standard alternative label for it. One wikipedia thing suggests “adverbial particle,” which sounds a little hand-wavy.
**OTOH, maybe it’s debatable whether “hear of” is really unequivocally a phrasal verb?
You seem to be assuming that the people who try to follow zombie rules are intimately acquainted with all the ins and outs of assigning words to classes, and that what is transparent to you is transparent to them. I put it to you that this is a dubious assumption.
Dictionaries, at least, list unheard-of as an adjective, and likewise uncalled-for. Your hyphenation may vary.
I think perhaps the point is that ‘preposition’ isn’t really a useful word wordclass for English. They are something like positional particles that sometimes can be used prepositionally (or prenominally), other times adverbially (or postverbally). This has very little bearing on people who follow the zombie rule, but much more on those who propagate them from imagined grammatical authority.
CGEL calls words like “before” etc “prepositions”, whether they are followed by a noun phrase, a clause, or nothing at all, though they do make a distinction between such words and “genuine adverbs” (which, as they point out, can also sometimes take complements, however.)
Actually, I found their discussion quite helpful in analysing Kusaal, in which there is only one inherited preposition (nɛ “with”) but several quite widespread regional words (like hali “up to, even”, asɛɛ “unless, except”) have been adopted into a new niche of their own, where (unlike nɛ) they can function as introducers of noun phrases or clauses or even occur with neither.
It’s actually odd that Kusaal even has an inherited preposition at all, given that it generally favours postpositions, including a general locative ni which seems to go all the way back to proto-Volta-Congo. There are cognates of nɛ all over Oti-Volta though, and perhaps farther afield (even in Bantu.) We don’t need no stinking typology! Wadja mean, “basic word order”?
Yeah, what ktschwarz said. You can just proclaim that “of” by itself is a preposition, but “unheard-of” is an adjective! Those are the Official Rules! Don’t take my word for it; you can look it up in the dictionary! You respect the authority of the dictionary, don’t you? This seems like the sort of messaging that people in thrall to zombie rules would be able to comprehend.
I also think (without bothering to try to research it) that when the zombie rule first arose, this syntactic leap by former prepositions was new, and what the rule really proscribed was the not-yet-standard reanalysis of (verb (preposition noun)) as ((verb “preposition”) noun), i.e. the phrasal verb. What Latin grammar supposedly had to do with it is not clear to me.
Of course, folk prescriptivism caught onto its only overt manifestation, the sentence-final phrasal verb, and held on to it long after the phrasal verb was accepted. I suppose that’s what makes it a zombie, the soulless walking shape of a once living rule.
The no-final-preposition thing seems to have been invented out of his own head by John Dryden specifically, though it was a while before it made the characteristic prescriptivist leap from “I don’t like it” to “it’s ungrammatical.”
English phrasal verbs go back way before Dryden. His personal hangup has nothing to do with the actual English grammar of any period.
Yes, I was going to say that after thinking a few seconds about my own native language, I don’t even believe that story myself — except that it might possibly be about the invention of a new set of phrasal verbs, or complement-less phrasal verbs.
I’m quite sure, though, that not understanding the various roles of the preposition has a lot to do with it.
Your hyphenation may vary.
So do dictionaries’ — undream*of; un*for; unheard*of
I would have thought hyphen if attributive, space if predicative. Is this hyphen only for un+participle+particle? Cf. done*for
In Welsh, in which you really can’t end a sentence with a preposition*, prepositions, which are conjugated, like verbs, as in all normal languages, may (like verbs) have an “impersonal” form, which is used as an adverb: so you get e.g. drosta i “over me”, drosti hi “over her” but drosodd “over.”
* I suppose that you could declare that a conjugated preposition form like e.g. trosof “over me”, which could end a sentence in Literary Welsh, just was “a preposition.” There is no limit to human perversity.
Phrasal verbs following the pattern of heard of go back to proto-Germanic at least.
It is, of course, grammatical to end a sentence with a preposition in Latin (Pax vobiscum!) The later would-be justifiers of the pseudorule by supposed analogy with Latin display their poor Latinity as well as ignorance of English.
(Dryden himself seems to have been innocent of this. He was just being Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells avant la lettre.)
Maybe the appeal was to French, though that seems unpatriotic. You can end a sentence with a preposition in Modern French as She is Actually Spoke (Tu viens avec?), but I can’t think of any way of doing it in Posh French. Etienne will know.
@LH, not just classification.
There is no “Mary unhears of X”, only “X is unheard of”.
Phrasal verbs look like German verbs with separable prefixes stuck in the separated position. Historically, these prefixes are not prepositions, but the corresponding fake-allative adverbs.
While in Old English the preposition in and the fake-allative *inn had already merged, pre-OHG introduced a total ban on word-final long consonants shortly before the HG Consonant Shift; monosyllabic words or destressed-and-restressed words or something underwent compensatory lengthening at that point, turning *inn into în, so that modern German distinguishes the preposition in from the separable verb prefix ein. Similarly *upp > *ûp > ûf > auf, though there the preposition is actually identical…
I knew the Bundeswehr somehow insists on Dreiecktuch, but what’s up with the revenue service?
Better examples.
I wouldn’t say that “corresponding fake-allative adverbs” is a very clear explanation of semantics🙁
@DE: “You can end a sentence with a preposition in Modern French as She is Actually Spoke (Tu viens avec?).”
Avec appears to be the only French preposition that appears finally. The usage has been attributed to Dutch and German influence:
“Conjointement à ; en compagnie de. Note d’usage : La préposition est généralement suivie d’un pronom, à l’exception notable des régions linguistiques sous l’influence des langues germaniques comme l’Alsace, la Belgique et la Suisse, où la préposition est placée parfois en position finale sans être suivie d’un pronom. Ainsi, alors que le reste de la France dit « tu viens avec moi/nous ? », on entend parfois le long de la frontière germanophone « tu viens avec ? », comme traduction mot à mot de l’allemand « Du kommst mit? » (« tu m’accompagnes » ) et du néerlandais « kom jij mee? »”
(https://fr.wiktionary.org/wiki/avec).
Le Trésor de la langue française informatisé , however, descriptively notes a restriction on that usage:
. Emploi adv., fam. (corresp. aux emplois prép. cités sous I et II) :
28. Enfin, un matin, le colonel cherchait sa monture, son ordonnance était partie avec, on ne savait où, dans un petit endroit sans doute où les balles passaient moins facilement qu’au milieu de la route.
CÉLINE, Voyage au bout de la nuit, 1932, p. 16.
29. … et tous les quatre pas [il] s’arrêtait, soulevait son tuyau de poêle, et s’éventait avec, bien qu’il fît froid, puis sortait un sordide foulard de sa poche et s’épongeait le front avec, puis le rentrait; …
GIDE, Les Nouvelles Nourritures, 1935, p. 262.
30. … vivre dans une époque, dans un milieu, où le mensonge décent est de règle, où le conformisme social et moral s’entoure d’un appareil de puissance impressionnant, et qui, n’ayant pas l’héroïsme (…) de faire sauter toute la boutique et lui avec, (…), se réfugie dans un discours secret, …
ROMAINS, Les Hommes de bonne volonté, La Douceur de la vie, 1939, p. 8.
Rem. Cette constr. est correcte, si le compl. sous-entendu (nom de pers. ou de chose) a été empl. précédemment (parfois sous forme de prop.). ,,On ne dira pas directement : [Venez-vous avec?] pour : Venez-vous avec nous? Nous accompagnez-vous?“ (HANSE 1949).[tilf.atilf.fr/dendien/scripts/tlfiv5/advanced.exe?8;s=2055577695;]
In Swedish ending sentences with prepositions seems to be completely acceptable- “ Hon är kvinnan du drömmer om” – “she is the woman you dream about”. If it’s good enough for Scandinavians should be good enough for English speakers.
Not just avec, in French. This article gives examples of others. Like sans:
Le Monde subscribers can see more of that article. Anyway, following its lead we can Google on “prépositions sans régime”, for more more grist.
I remembered what “of which it was unheard” reminds me of!
In Held ‘Twas In I!
(though the site where I’m reading the lyrics offers one more alternative spelling of the band’s name: Procyl Harem. Me, I’m unheard of this.)
@DE, distinguishing prothesis and prosthesis may be another zombie bugbear. It comes down to Danish as protese, in any case. Even øjenprotese, though I would say glasøje.
Actually, “of which it was unheard” was insearted in the origianal text for no apparent reason.
Another difference: “…the studio gave Dame Elizabeth Taylor…”
Dame was excised.
Parashurama school (gurukul). Hate kshatriyas.
distinguishing prothesis and prosthesis may be another zombie bugbear.
May be, as you say. In this case it was merely a Laurel and Hardy routine. I fed David the line of having mistaken prothetic for prosthetic, just so’s he could cutely finesse it.
That’s another fine mess you’ve gotten us into!
The whole thing is a bit incoherent, really – you can give in to a demand, or you can give someone another concession or right or whatever, but can you give them a demand?
Le Monde subscribers can see more of that article.
I managed to get the first third or so from the Internet Archive:
“You can come with if you want” is something I hear young Americans say on TV. Presumably picked up from French exchange students.
No, definitely not from French. The Yale Grammatical Diversity Project says:
You have turned my throwaway quip into a teachable moment! The knowledge, it burns!
LH: Burning brains since 2002.
A Slavic example:
https://www.vostlit.info/Texts/Dokumenty/China/XVIII/1720-1740/Russ_kit_otn_18_v_II/81-100/88.htm
Search for переехали чрез, also которую переехали чрез. The author is a FYLOSC speaker writing in Russian (I don’t know if it is common in FYLOSC).
To Jen in Edinburgh’s question, google books turns up a book (a memoir, it looks like) published within the last ten years or so containing the sentence “We gave them our demands and [then] the police escorted us off the premises.” Which sounds in context totally idiomatic and non-jarring to my ear. It may have some implicature that the “demands” were embodied in some sort of written document which could be and was physically handed to the addressee(s)?
You hear “are you coming with?” etc. not only in the Scandinavian-heavy Midwest but in the greater NYC area, where it’s a Yiddishism. Although like many Yiddishisms it has found its way via local osmosis into the idiolects of some speakers who personally lack Ashkenazic ancestry or cultural ties.
@JWB: In your case, “giving our demands” seems to mean “submitting our demands”, which looks normal to me as well. In the article LH quoted, it seems to mean “giving in to / accepting her demands”, which looks unusual.
@Hans: It’s a train wreck of a sentence that hat block-quoted but if you recast that part as “give [Taylor] another one of her demands” it doesn’t sound too odd. Consider (from the google books corpus): “And if they do not give us our demands, then they will not be able to solve the problem. And we will not settle until we achieve our demands.” That’s from a modestly ESL-ish writer, to be fair. Or consider (from reminiscences of labor-union organizing in Hawaii in the 1930’s): “Give us our demands. That’s all I’m asking for.” It’s admittedly a more informal register than “Give us what we have demanded.”
@DM
>I knew the Bundeswehr somehow insists on Dreiecktuch, but what’s up with the revenue service?
The German (of Germany) one doesn’t use -s- in naming taxes. It’s Einkommensteuer etc, although normal people say Einkommenssteuer etc.
but if you recast that part as “give [Taylor] another one of her demands”
If they had written it that way, I (and I guess Jen) wouldn’t have batted an eyelid. So it looks like the issue is not the transitivity, but the missing of a possessive pronoun.
“You can come with if you want” is something I hear young Americans say on TV. Presumably picked up from French exchange students.
I first heard this in the early 1950s in a NY City suburb. The speaker was my five year old playmate from the next street, born in the U.S. Both his parents were from London.
It struck me as strange then. The next encounter with come with was in 1963 in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, where it was common. That area has more than its fair share of people with Germanic and Scandinavian roots.
Classic children’s Christmas musical: Vil du være med så heng på!
Lit. “Will-you be (come) with so hang on!”
Note how the phrasal verbs være med and heng på are stressed on the verb*, as is normal in Eastern-Central Norwegian. One quirk in my own idiolect is that I often stress the preposition. I’m not sure if I got this from having a Northern Norwegian father, or spending my teenage years in Bergen, or both.
*Bli med “come along, join” is a perfect rhyme with verbs like lime “glue”, so children will misanalyze it and produce blimte “came along, joined”. Next level (jocular but perfectly understandable) misanalysis is as a strong verb blime – bleim – har blimi.
to me, as in JWB’s example, “give… demands” can only be about presenting demands, and needs specification of whose demands are being presented to who[m]. by contrast, to me the simplest verb construction that goes with the other side of the scenario uses “meet”, as in “we met their unheardof demands”, “meet our demands and we’ll desist”, or “the demands were met”.
Cross-linguistically, “give” is very prone to getting bleached of any particular lexical meaning. In languages that do serial verbs, it often ends up as a sort of surrogate dative. Kusaal doesn’t have serial verbs exactly, but does something very similar:
M kuos lɔr la tis du’ata.
I sell car the give doctor
“I’ve sold the car to Doctor.”
(There is, sadly, no implication that this was a free gift.)
English is presumably in the process of getting with the program.
English is presumably in the process of getting with the program.
Except ‘give’ is so phonetically close to ‘gift’, I don’t think it could acquire the sense of transferred-for-cash. There is ‘give in’, ‘give up’, ‘give out’ (expire).
It doesn’t mean “transferred for cash” in my Kusaal example: it really means just “to.” I only picked that particular main verb to make it clear that tis doesn’t mean “give” in such constructions.
Just picking an example at random from the Bible translation:
Mid ka fʋ di ziri kasɛti tisi ya tiraan.
beware and you eat lie witness.LINKER give you.pl neighbour
“Do not bear false testimony against your neighbour.”
This kind of use of “give” verbs is pretty standard in languages that do serial-verb constructions. Cameroon Pidgin English has e.g.
Dem don kam lait lam gif wi.
“They came and lit lamps for us.”
[Kusaal actually does have indirect objects, but constructions with tis allow for more flexibility of word order, and are the only option if the direct and indirect object are both non-contrastive personal pronouns, because you’re only allowed one enclitic object pronoun per verb.]
Incidentally, it has been seriously contended by respectable linguists that “to” is an (auxiliary) verb in English, though AFAIK only in its use before “infinitives.”
CGEL actually takes the trouble to argue against this analysis at some length (pp 1183ff), which they would hardly do if it were self-evidently stupid.
Plenty of languages have developed prepositions out of verbs, though (Chinese, for example.) And Kusaal (inevitably) is doing this now, in front of our very eyes, with the verb wɛn “resemble”, which is already often treated syntactically as if it were a preposition meaning “like.”
Insular Celtic, of course, has decided to restore the cosmic balance by conjugating prepositions like verbs, thus completing the Circle of Life.
Insular Celtic, … conjugating prepositions like verbs, …
My mind is boggling how that works … Are they like Latin in the Prep determining the case of the NP? And the NP determines the number of the Prep? Don’t speakers get tongue-tied trying to solve simultaneous equations? Ah, wikip has it covered. (Probably wrong in detail, but enough to unboggle me.)
Being VSO probably helps, in some inscrutable way.
No, the prepositions have just fused with the following personal pronouns. In Welsh, particularly, the resulting chimaeras have been extensively remodelled by analogy with verb flexion (which in Welsh itself shows a lot of analogical leveling and historical fusion with following subject pronouns.) Welsh doesn’t have cases even in pronouns, so the similarities are even more striking, and the VSO constituent order certainly helps it along.
This was one of the similarities with parts of Afroasiatic which spawned fanciful theories about AA pre-Celtic substrates in Britain, before the penny dropped that many typological features tend to correlate with one another anyway, and are not good evidence either of genetic relatedness or of substrates.
many typological features tend to correlate with one another anyway, and are not good evidence either of genetic relatedness or of substrates.
Thank you. So that correlation also undermines the Siberian -> North American typology argument on the parallel thread?
Can you be sure (pre-)Kusaal (or Celtic) is not in fact pre-proto-Siberian?
Yes, it does, though such arguments can be made with varying degrees of sophistication and awareness of such problems, and Nichols is definitely at the sophisticated end FWIW.
As Kusaal is the most conservative living member of KONGO, although it is not technically pre-proto-Siberian, it is a very close approximation.
For Danish, I’ve never met a “phrasal verb” that got the sort of metanalysis that Trond talks about. All the common ones have a strong verb as the core so a new weak preterite would have so many counterexamples.
(I assume bli [is that the finite present form, or the infinitive?] is strong in the relevant dialects too, preterite ble? But if you hear present ‘blime, preterite ‘bleme, new weak ‘blimte doesn’t stick out that much).
Also Danish stresses the particle*, not the verb, and puts it one step down from any small pronouns, including the subject in inverted clauses. Ska du 'med?. This is a salient difference from Swedish, or rather, the exact pragmatics of what goes where are different, with Swedish putting the verb particle first more often. plocka upp 'klärna = samle tøjet 'op.
___________
(*) I’m not sure “preposition” is the right word here. Preverb. except many of these lexical items can’t take the preverb-finite verb form?
@Lars Mathiesen. “I’m not sure “preposition” is the right word here. Preverb. except many of these lexical items can’t take the preverb-finite verb form?”
Possibly the best term is adverbial complement.
@M, thanks.
@DE, I’ve never inquired as to where Danish ranks within Scandi-Kongo, much less KONGO itself. But I assume that all the other branches, Oti-Volta in particular, are derived from Danish by illicit surfacement (surfactation?) of underlying consonants (and vowels)?
The Surfacted Vowels played at CBGB back in the day but were never able to land a record contract. Probably a good thing.
@Lars:
Essentially, yes: though the accepted term in the literature is “reincarnated segments.”
Popular presentations aimed at a lay readership sometimes use the term “zombie vowels.”
CBGB’s is long gone so I can’t give hat a recent anecdote about that venue. But in NYC news he might (or might not) be tickled to hear that earlier this evening I for the first time in my life attended a religious service conducted primarily in the Georgian language – a small Georgian Orthodox mission congregation having in recent years constructed their own worship space in the basement of a somewhat down-at-the-heels Lutheran (hattic ancestral connection, I believe?) church in Flatbush. This was supposed to be part of a diocese-promoted Lenten outreach series, where different Orthodox parishes would take turns hosting Sunday evening vespers with an eye toward having folks from other parishes join them (since it’s not a service most parishes typically celebrate on their own). In practice, this meant that the collection of visiting clergy from other parishes did all of the priest/deacon parts of the service in English while the chanter functioning as the home team’s one-man choir did 100% of the choral responses (and all the other “choir” and “reader in minor orders at best” parts) in Georgian, either because he lacked the skill set to do those parts in English or because he wasn’t willing to switch out of God’s Own Language just because there were visitors expected who didn’t know a word of Georgian. It was rather lovely.
The equivalent special service next Sunday evening is scheduled for an Albanian parish in Queens. I don’t know how to wager re the likely linguistic mix.
he might (or might not) be tickled to hear that earlier this evening I for the first time in my life attended a religious service conducted primarily in the Georgian language
I’m not only tickled but jealous!
Lutheran (hattic ancestral connection, I believe?)
Quite so (on my mother’s side; my dad’s people are Baptist).
It was rather lovely.
+1 to the jealous. I might be utterly godless, but I go weak at the knees with religious choral music: Gregorian Plainchant, Poulenc’s Gloria, Elgar’s Gerontius, Bach, Bach, Bach.
And don’t forget Monteverdi!
Very bad example because of the cluster [sʃ] that is much more generally avoided; people might write Einkommenssteuer and feel weird about it, but they’ll hardly ever say it.
I’ve since been reminded of something else: .de Gesetzentwurf, .at Gesetzesentwurf “bill in parliament”.
people might write Einkommenssteuer and feel weird about it, but they’ll hardly ever say it
Huh? Lots of people say it that way, me among them, and I actually had to double-check that the Fugen-s is indeed not used in the official designation. The same is true for Vermögenssteuer.
Oh, interesting.
It wasn’t quite Monteverdi-analogous since there was only one guy doing the chanting in Georgian and mostly sticking to quite simple melodies. But here’s some more polyphonic Georgian chant I just dug up on the internet, with harmonies that probably don’t match the Western music-theory-textbook rules but which are easy on the ear and not “exotic” in a Bollywood-soundtrack sort of way either. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJ2zj1-tMzY
which are easy on the ear
Thank you @JWB, and I listened to a few other numbers from GeorgianChoir.
TBH, too easy on the ear: over-produced, are they using autotune? are they even computer-generated voices? I like my Gregorian Chant to have a sort of edginess/gravelliness/slightly ragged onsets.
with harmonies that probably don’t match the Western music-theory-textbook rules
Yeah. Funny thing is those rules were written down early C19th/so-called Classical era. So then when composers started breaking them (Mahler, Shostakovich, Debussy with non-diatonic scales, Schoenberg of course), audiences thought that was edgy.
But pre-Baroque tonality could get very ‘crunchy’; Monteverdi was no slouch in that regard; it was post-Bach that it all got neutered. And theory-textbook rule-writers claiming to codify Bach are a bunch of wankers. (Treat then with about as much contempt as Strunk & White.) Bach could pile dissonance upon dissonance, then repeat the passage with more dissonance, then release at just the point your head is exploding. He knew exactly what he was doing with no textbook.
Very bad example because of the cluster [sʃ] that is much more generally avoided; people might write Einkommenssteuer and feel weird about it, but they’ll hardly ever say it.
I’ve since been reminded of something else: .de Gesetzentwurf, .at Gesetzesentwurf “bill in parliament”.
I’d be up for a challenge to come up with better examples, but as ‘Steuer’ begins with /ʃt/ I’ll pass.^^
I do pronounce the Fugen-s in ‘Einkommenssteuer’, ‘Körperschaftssteuer’, etc, by the way. ‘Gesetzesentwurf’ is common in Germany (don’t know about Austria). I just checked Bundestag.de: The Bundestag administration seems to prefer ‘Gesetzentwurf’ (I didn’t know that), but you’ll find both variants in proposals, minutes and third-party opinions.
Ah, that’s much less surprising than the clean separation I had thought I’d found.