COWBOY.

Still reading American Colonies: The Settling of North America, I just came across a detail that upended everything I thought I knew about the history of the cowboy. The context is the creation of the Carolina colony in the late seventeenth century; it was settled mainly from Barbados, which had too many people crammed into too little space (in 1680 the most populous town in British America was not Boston but Bridgetown), and it had to find a way to support itself—it was too far north to grow sugar, the crop that made the Barbadian landowners rich. The colonists traded with the Indians for deerskin and slaves, but those were “volatile and diminishing commodities”; they harvested pine trees for lumber and tapped their pitch to make tar, vital for shipping.

Carolina also became the preeminent cattle country in the English empire, as the Carolinians pioneered many practices later perfected on a grand scale in the American West, including cattle branding, annual roundups, cow pens, and cattle drives from the interior to the market in Charles Town. Many owners entrusted the roaming cattle to the care of black slaves, who had previous experience as herdsmen in Africa. In Carolina the black herdsmen became known as “cowboys”—apparently the origin of that famous term.

The OED, however, takes cowboy in this sense only back to 1849: “The Mexican rancheros.. ventured across the Rio Grande.. but they were immediately attacked by the Texan ‘cow-boys’.” Does anybody know about this earlier use in the Carolinas?

Update. Ben Zimmer, in a comment, points out that this theory “was first put forward by Peter H. Wood in Black Majority: Negroes in Colonial South Carolina from 1670 Through the Stono Rebellion, first published in 1974 … Woods simply writes, ‘It is even possible that the very word ‘cowboy’ originated through this set of circumstances’ (p. 31). He gives no evidence for this conjecture…” So it is a mere hypothesis, and to my mind not a very plausible one. Nothing to see here!

OGDEN NASH.

Today wood s lot features the inimitable Ogden Nash, whose off-kilter verse delighted several generations of readers. I don’t know if he’s much quoted today aside from the immortal “Reflections On Ice Breaking” (“Candy/ Is dandy/ But liquor/ Is quicker”), which everybody attributes to Dorothy Parker anyway, but anyone with a taste for absurd rhymes, invented words, and a jaundiced viewpoint (all on display in the three-word “Further Reflections on Parsley”: “Parsley/ Is gharsley”) should investigate the trove at PoemHunter.com. I’ll limit myself to reproducing “Peekaboo, I Almost See You,” which shows off the full range of his comic arsenal:

Middle-aged life is merry, and I love to lead it,
But there comes a day when your eyes are all right but your arm isn’t long enough to hold the telephone book where you can read it,
And your friends get jocular, so you go to the oculist,
And of all your friends he is the joculist,
So over his facetiousness let us skim,
Only noting that he has been waiting for you ever since you said Good evening to his grandfather clock under the impression that it was him,
And you look at his chart and it says SHRDLU QWERTYOP, and you say Well, why SHRDNTLU QWERTYOP? and he says one set of glasses won’t do.
You need two.
One for reading Erle Stanley Gardner’s Perry Mason and Keats’s “Endymion” with,
And the other for walking around without saying Hello to strange wymion with.
So you spend your time taking off your seeing glasses to put on your reading glasses, and then remembering that your reading glasses are upstairs or in the car,
And then you can’t find your seeing glasses again because without them on you can’t see where they are.
Enough of such mishaps, they would try the patience of an ox,
I prefer to forget both pairs of glasses and pass my declining years saluting strange women and grandfather clocks.
—Ogden Nash

WAMPANOAG.

My dictionaries of first resort, the OED, Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate, and American Heritage, all give a four-syllable pronunciation for the name of this New England Indian tribe; M-W renders it “wäm-p&-‘nO-(“)ag, AH is the same (rendered in their own system), and the OED differs only in having a schwa in the final syllable. But the original pronunciation was clearly three syllables; the first citation in the OED (Roger Williams, 1676) calls them “Wampanoogs,” and the ending must be the same as in the original Narraganset name for the Pequots, Pequttôog, and the word for Europeans, Wautaconâug ‘coatmen,’ which I presume are two spellings of the same vowel or diphthong. It was still three syllables in the early nineteenth century; John Greenleaf Whittier’s 1830 poem “Metacom” rhymes “Beneath the closing veil of night,/ And leafy bough and curling fog,/ …Rested the fiery Wampanoag” and “The scorched earth—the blackened log—/ …Be the sole relics which remain/ Of the once mighty Wampanoag!” In 1847, John Brougham’s parody of the wildly popular play Metamora: Or, the Last of the Wampanoags was titled “Metamora, or the Last of the Pollywogs,” which strongly implies a pronunciation WAMP-anogs. And I just found a recording (mp3) of Chief Wild Horse, the last speaker of the Wampanoag dialect, reading the Lord’s Prayer (followed by a detailed linguistic explication) in 1961, and both he and the guy who introduces him say WAMP-anog, three syllables. So why do the dictionaries list only the spelling pronunciation wampa-NO-ag?

Addendum. Martin, in the comments, links to some extremely interesting sites: an article about Jessie “Little Doe” Fermino, a Mashpee Indian who last year earned a master’s in linguistics and is trying to revive the Wampanoag language (there’s more about the revival effort here, where the table on the upper right is, oddly, the syllabary for Inuktitut, a language not mentioned in the piece), and the website for the Wôpanâak Language Revitalization Project (and I note that the address line at the bottom refers to the “Wampanog Tribe”).

I should also mention that I got the mp3 recording from this webpage.

SAADAT HASAN MANTO.

A MetaFilter post introduced me to the writer Saadat Hasan Manto, who at the time of Partition left a successful screenwriting career in Bombay for a miserable existence in Lahore, where he wrote brilliant stories and drank himself to death in early 1955. (There’s an affecting account of his life here.) He’s been compared to Lawrence and Gorky for the unblinking honesty of his writing, which frequently got him in trouble with the government; his most famous story is Toba Tek Singh, which is available in both Urdu and English here (there’s even a set of notes on the language [from C. M. Naim, Readings in Urdu Prose and Poetry, no longer available online in 2025]). You won’t soon forget the lunatic’s nonsense mantra (اوپڑ دی گڑ گڑ دی اینکس دی بے دھیانا دی منگ دی دال آف دی لالٹین, uupa;R dii gu;R gu;R dii enaks dii be dhyaanaa dii mu;Ng dii daal aaf dii laal;Ten).

FOREWORD.

If you’re interested in book design and book covers, you’ll probably want to, er, bookmark Foreword, “a community in the service of books and book design, with authors in the US and UK.” Check out the collection of The Bell Jar covers and the book cover waiting to happen.

QUIPU.

I had just started the article “Those Ancient Incan Knots? Tax Accounting, Researchers Suggest” by Nicholas Wade in today’s NY Times when I had occasion to grind my teeth: “They believe they may have decoded the first word – a place name – to be found in a quipu (pronounced KWEE-poo)…” What the hell? Is the Times too proud to actually consult a dictionary? Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate, for instance, which says “Pronunciation: ‘kE-(“)pü.” Or the American Heritage, which says the same thing in its own transcription. You’d think anyone with the slightest acquaintance with Spanish would be able to grasp that qui = /ki/; if you wanted further confirmation, you could look up the etymology—M-W gives the Quechua word as khipu and AHD as kipu, but either way there ain’t no /kw/. But the Times in its corporate wisdom (I’m not going to blame Wade, since it may well have been an idiot editor who added the “information”) says “I ignorantly pronounce it this way, and since I am the Times I am by definition correct in all things, so I will inflict my ignorance upon the public at large.” Well done, O Newspaper of Record!

JOURNAL OF WELSH STUDIES.

The North American Journal of Welsh Studies “is comprised [sic, tsk] of material originally presented at a conference or event sponsored by the North American Association for the Study of Welsh Culture and History.” The web pages for each issue are HTML (the latest is Winter-Summer 2005), but the individual articles are pdf files. There’s some interesting stuff there, like Grahame Davies, “Beginnings: New Media and the Welsh Language” (pdf); if you read Welsh and are interested in new media, of course, you should bookmark morfa. (Via wood s lot.)

Update
(Aug. 2022). The original links have rotted, so I’ve provided archived ones. The situation with the journal is annoying. The North American Journal of Welsh Studies page is here, but the link there to the “North American Journal of Welsh Studies website” is dead and there is no way to access the journal the page is supposedly for. The website The Latest News of NAJWS Now starts with this confusing material:

Hello… Welcome to this website. I’m really sorry if what you are looking for right now is not there. This website does not provide journals like before.

This website has changed ownership into private property.

This is A Brief History of The North American Journal of Welsh Studies.

Later it says:

Some of the old files belonging to the North American Journal of Welsh Studies can be found below.

download this pdf file

download this pdf file

download this pdf file

download this pdf file

Thank you for coming here.

Uh, you’re welcome, I guess. But you’d think somebody could have done better at keeping this material available.

DURATION: TRANSLATION.

The poetry publisher duration press has put online the first of its new critical e-book series, towards a foreign likeness bent: translation (pdf). It contains fifteen essays, from Ammiel Alcalay’s “Politics & Translation” to Chet Wiener’s “The Legacy and Future of ‘Horizontal’ and ‘Vertical’ Translation in Contemporary Poetry,” of which (I regret to say) too many are marred (for me) by an excess of politics, theory, and/or self-indulgence. But at least two are worth downloading the book to read, Jonathan Skinner’s “A Note On Trobar” (followed by a selection of his own translations, “Petit Chansonnier: Provençal Lyrics”) and Rick Snyder’s “The Politics of Time: New American Versions of Paul Celan.” The first begins:

While it is a commonplace that the troubadours “invented” (or found) the art of love (whose key words we all know well—vernal, auzel [bird], dona, pretz [worth], amors, cor, remirar [glance], dezir, joi, sofrirs, mezura, servir, merce, lauzengier [slanderer], senhal [nickname]), the formal, lyric specificity of that invention has been lost to us. What was unique about the troubadour canso was its secular artifice, its engagement with social and linguistic particulars in an ideal vernacular, a koine relatively free of (Latin) ecclesiastical and juridical control while also not particularly tied to local dialects. The troubadours elaborated a frankly sexual (and, I might add, social) sensibility in a “field of rhyme” with little compare in the history of Western literature—in fact, Occitan rhyme’s likely connections with Arabic and Hebrew poetry, in forms including the Mozarabic zagal and muwashshah, remain relatively unexplored to this day. (Indigenous influences such as refrain songs associated with the round dance have been considered more important.)

[Read more…]

POEME EN LANGUE INCONNUE.

Cerdis zerom deronty toulpinye,
Purois harlins linor orifieux,
Tictic falo mien estolieux,
Eulfiditons lafar relonglotye.
Gerefeluz tourdom redassinye;
Ervidion tecar doludrieux,
Gesdoliou nerset bacincieux,
Arlas destol osart lurafirie.
Tast derurly tast qu’ent derontrian,
Tast deportulast fal min adian,
Tast tast causus renula dulpissoitre,
Ladimirail reledra survioux,
C’est mon secret ma Mignonne aux yeux doux,
Qu’autre que toy ne sauroit reconnoistre.
—Marc Papillon, seigneur de Lasphrise (1597)

[Read more…]

JAPANESE GUIDE TO JAPANESE.

Tae Kim‘s A Japanese guide to Japanese grammar “was created as a resource for those who want to learn Japanese grammar in a rational, intuitive way that makes sense in Japanese. The explanations are focused on how to make sense of the grammar not from English but from a Japanese point of view.” The Introduction says:

The problem with conventional textbooks is that they often have the following goals.
1. They want readers to be able to use functional and polite Japanese as quickly as possible.
2. They don’t want to scare readers away with terrifying Japanese script and Chinese characters.
3. They want to teach you how to say English phrases in Japanese…
This guide is an attempt to systematically build up the grammatical structures that make up the Japanese language in a way that makes sense in Japanese. It may not be a practical tool for quickly learning immediately useful Japanese phrases (for example, common phrases for travel). However, it will logically create grammatical building blocks that will result in a solid grammatical foundation. For those of you who have learned Japanese from textbooks, you may see some big differences in how the material is ordered and presented. This is because this guide does not seek to forcibly create artificial ties between English and Japanese by presenting the material in a way that makes sense in English. Instead, examples with translations will show how ideas are expressed in Japanese resulting in simpler explanations that are easier to understand.

That makes a lot of sense to me, and if I ever decide to really learn Japanese, I think I’ll give it a try. (Via Plep.)