Idiosophy

A physicist loose among the liberal arts

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Scholarship is hard

The next thing I was going to do, after I finished the alliterative-verse detection program, was to apply it to another work that obviously wasn’t trying to remind the reader of Old English. So — who’s the least-old-english writer I can think of.

The one who came first to mind was James Joyce. He’s writing about the same time as Tolkien, and his affection for myth is just as strong (though directed differently). Best of all, he’s in the public domain, so I can get high-quality plain-text versions of his works from Project Gutenberg. Ulysses might be a perfect comparison.

So I downloaded it and fed it into the maw of the machine. It’s 265,000 words, compared to The Lord of the Rings at 470,000, so it should be manageable, right? Right? Wrong. LotR had just under 2,000 words I needed to encode by hand. Ulysses has almost 10,000. I’ve loved LotR for almost half a century, and I can recite lots of it from memory, so that was a manageable task. It still took me almost a month, though. For Ulysses, I have no such affection. No way am I going to devote a third of a year to converting it to machine pronunciation.

Second option: I asked Sørina whom she could recommend for comparison. (She’s working on her Ph.D. so she knows everything.) She suggested foreign novels in translation. There’s an idea — African literature! African writers have a completely different sense of rhythm and sound than the Norsemen do. And in many countries, they write in English. They’ll be perfect.

Well. If there’s a public-domain novel written by an African, I can’t find it. Nothing before 1930 even seems to exist on line. There are quite a few 20C novels, but they’re all still under copyright. Everything before then has been consigned to the dustiest shelves of university libraries. Bloody colonialists. By what seemed like a fortuitous coincidence, Wendy Belcher fired off a Twitter thread about African literature just as I was giving up. She’s writing an anthology that will give me all kinds of examples. “Will.” Someday, alas. Right now, the chapters I need are just headings with blank spaces underneath.

If anyone has any other ideas, I’d be happy to hear them.

I still have the knack

Saxon weaponry

To date, my proudest scholarly achievement has been killing off an entire sub-field of nuclear physics. But I’m not done yet! Within six months of learning to speak Old English, I’ve somehow caused the International Society of Anglo-Saxonists to collapse.
”Allegations of white supremacy are tearing apart a prestigious medieval studies group” in the Washington Post.

Alliterative-verse density measurement

When I started automating detection of alliterative verse, the original hypothesis was to watch the phrases that look like lines of Old English poetry spike up dramatically when the story got to Rohan. Well, that’s not what happens. J.R.R. Tolkien uses alliteration so much that even when we restrict him to Sievers’s five patterns, there’s a constant stream of alliterative lines.

Here’s the density of alliterative lines in the text, as a function of the number of words since the beginning of the Prologue.  (I used a 100-word bandwidth, for those who care.) You can see a rise in the frequency of alliteration in Book III, where I expected it.  There are also some nice spikes in Book 5, when the Rohirrim make their entrance and when the bard sings a long song in honor of the fallen.The highest density-spike of alliterative lines comes in “The Uruk-Hai” (III,iii, in dark grey) when Pippin is talking to himself.  That was unexpected. In the next chapter, though, Treebeard comes through.  He doesn’t provide any high spikes, but the low troughs disappear. Ents never stop alliterating, murmuring in their slow musical voices. (This sentence shows that I allow quite a few unstressed syllables; Type E can have four in a row.)

Book IV also starts out with a lot of alliteration. Sam is talking to himself, this time. For some reason, writing out Sam’s dialogue with formal line breaks and caesurae is hilarious to me:

Numbskulls! You’re nowt but / a ninnyhammer, Sam
Gamgee; that’s what /  the Gaffer said.

The lowest density of alliteration is in the chapter “Minas Tirith” (V, i). I noticed this the second time I read the book – the tone changes abruptly from the previous volumes. When they encounter a line like, “For the fashion of Minas Tirith was such that it was built on seven levels…” even teenaged Idiosophers are brought up short by the new voice.

Alliteration is not just part of the story, though. The Prologue has a solid population of alliterative lines.  Those bits are Bilbo’s and Merry’s voices, so from this we can derive a consistent theme: The constant background of alliteration is there because the book is narrated by hobbits.  When they’re talking to Ents or Rohirrim the rate ticks up about 5%.  Elves or Gondorians drag the rate down, roughly the same amount. With a larger bandwidth, smoothing over 2000-word intervals, we lose the poem-spikes, but it’s easier to see the overall changes.

Words I learned from Tolkien

Megan Fontenot asks the question over on Twitter: What are some words you learned from reading Tolkien’s works?

That could be a large number. One easy way to find a bunch of them is to look in the list my pronouncing dictionary didn’t know. Throw out the proper names, the invented languages, and (as much as I wanted to leave them in) things like “tinbone” and “thinbone”. That gave me 37 words, which is plenty to start with:

belike
brock
bullroarer
cornel
corslet
deeping
darkling
dishevelled
draught
dwimmer
ent
etten
eyot
eyrie
fen
flet
footpads
habergeon
leechcraft
mark
mathom
surcoat
swart
hyrne
thrawn
trothplighted
garth
unlading
vambrace
weapontake
weregild
weskit
wang
whortle
withy
woses
writhen

Fun fact:  all but two of those words are currently underlined in red by the WordPress spell-checker.

Double-Dactylliteration

While debugging yet another misfeature of my computerized alliteration detection program, I came across a phrase from LotR (II, ix) that was not only a good Anglo-Saxon alliterative line, but was also the last two lines of a stanza of a double dactyl.

Coming from a writer as sensitive to rhythm and sound as J.R.R. Tolkien, that can’t be a coincidence.  Wherefore I plunged into the Archive of Lost Documents and found the laundry receipt on which Tolkien had originally written the complete poem. This particular slip eluded inclusion in the History of Middle Earth because it was used to light a backyard barbecue grill in 1941. Doubtless JRRT was dismissive of the importance of this work because the double-dactyl verse form would not be invented for another decade, and no audience yet existed for it.

Tolkien’s handwriting is notoriously difficult to read even before the incineration of the medium bearing the autograph text, so it was only through strenuous exertion that I am able to restore it here:

Higgledy-piggledy
Gift of Galadriel
Gimli was fingering
Gold in his mind

Wondering if it was
Fit to be worked into
Crystallographically
Perfect design.

This research breaks new ground in mitigating the tension of intentionality. I shall be submitting a paper to the Appropriate Journal.

Gollum and Golem

Simon Cook has been working on teasing out the connections between the Golem of Hebrew mythology and Gollum of Middle-earth. His son has cast the story into video, featuring one of the more convincing Gollums I’ve seen on screen.

I know exactly one thing about semitic philology: the words are based on three-consonant roots; the vowels are malleable. So, let’s see if I can use it for something.  What other words go in the class with Golem and Gollum?  I grepped all the words that have the letters g,l,m (possibly doubled), with vowels in between them from the Linux word-list in /usr/share/dict/words (the one that runs the spell checker). Apart from “golem”, I found three classes of words.

Ten words are unquestionably Gollum-related:
glaum – to snatch at, make threatening movements. I had to go to the OED for this.
glim, glimmer, gleam – giving off light, like Gollum’s eyes.
gloam, gloaming – twilight, dimness
gloom – no question.
glime – to look obliquely at something (“…looking sidelong at the hobbits.” IV,ii)  Hello again, OED.
glom, glam – two related words in Scots dialect, related to clam, clamp. Gollum had strong hands, and JRRT almost used the word (“clammy fingers were feeling for [Sam’s] throat” IV,i) That subscription to the OED is paying off today.

One word doesn’t apply to Gollum any more than to anyone else: glum.

Five words have absolutely nothing to do with Gollum: agalma, a votive offering to a Greek god; glioma, the nerve-cell cancer; galium, the genus of catchweed bedstraw; gallium, which is in the device you’re using to read this; and glume, the hard covering around a grass seed.

Tolkien chose words whose sound matches their meaning. (And the moral of THAT is, “Take care of the sounds, and the sense will take care of themselves”, pace the Duchess.) I conclude that there were plenty of phonetic reasons for him to choose the name “Gollum” apart from the dyspeptic resonances he mentions in the text.

Regardless of how his current project turns out, Simon has already accomplished one thing. From that video, he’s put golem firmly in that first set of words. It now has a two-thirds majority to override any objections.

(edited to add: glume, from /usr/share/dict/words on Free BSD.)

Crossed Alliteration

Surprisingly to me, the field of metrical research in Anglo-Saxon poetry is thriving. It’s not like any new Anglo-Saxon verses have been discovered recently, but we do have some new alliterative poems. I just found a paper by Nelson Goering [1] (one of the lecturers in my Anglo-Saxon class) that applies analytical techniques developed for Old English to J.R.R. Tolkien’s recently published verse.

The thing that jumped out at me was what Goering calls “crossed alliteration”. Where Anglo-Saxon verse alliterates on one sound per line, crossed alliteration takes advantage of the four stresses to alliterate twice: either A-B-A-B or A-B-B-A.  Examples he gives from The Fall of Arthur are “Fiercely heard she / his feet hasten” (II, 111) [2] and “of south Britain / booty seeking” (I, 9). He notes that 7% of the lines of the poem have crossed alliteration, which is “nearly double the rate of a classical Old English poem such as Beowulf.”

spreadsheet snapshot of no real valueThat’s the sort of thing that really gets an Idiosopher (provided that he has spent a year or so on text preparation and code-building) rolling. In this case, rolling right into a brick wall.  To order a computer to look for crossed alliteration, we’d need a regular expression that looks for (string), (any string but that one), (the first string) (the other string).  I’m ashamed to admit that I spent a month trying to turn that into a regular expression.  It just can’t be done in any language I speak. Back-referencing the complement of a single character is possible, but the CMU phoneme set can have two characters, and trying to kluge together a fix got totally out of control.  The reason I’m ashamed is that there’s no reason to use a powerful tool like regular expressions — I don’t need any wild-cards in this simple case so I can just use equals-signs for the test. Most likely you saw it some time ago, and have been laughing at me.

Here are some good ones:

He wandered in loneliness, weeping a little.  
'Spoons? Fiddlesticks!' He snapped his fingers.
Galadriel stood, alone and silent.
The sun was warm and the wind was in the south.
Boromir seemed to be swimming or burrowing...
Then suddenly Frodo fell asleep.

Here’s one that’s bogus: “‘…Black Riders.’ ‘Black Riders!'” JRRT repeats a phrase for emphasis fairly often, and I really think that ought not to count.

Overall, the numbers for LotR are higher than for The Fall of Arthur. A-B-A-B crossed alliteration is 10% as frequent as simple alliterative lines. A-B-B-A crossed alliteration is about the same, 10.5% as common as the simpler case.  Note that the latter was not included in the original computation, but the former was.

To wind up, here’s one that’s intriguing: “Again she fled, but swift he came / Tinuviel! Tinuviel! / He called her by her Elvish name;’   Cross-alliterative enjambment in ann-thennath sounds obscure enough for a whole dissertation.


Notes

[1] Goering, Nelson. “The Fall of Arthur and The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún: A Metrical Review of Three Modern English Alliterative Poems.” Journal of Inklings Studies 5.2 (2015): 3-56. Preprint here.

[2] Goering has the caesura in a different place from the text, which has been corrected here. Fly-specks like this are of no interest to anyone, but they are commonly pointed out in the literature. Were I to forbear to mention it, this blog would never be taken seriously by any community of scholars.

Comments on the Epilogue to LotR

I’d never read the Epilogue to The Lord of the Rings, until the Mythgard Academy class. A few scattered comments:

Elanor

Although I generally agree with the Inklings’ decision to veto the Epilogue from the published text of LotR, I do kind of regret the loss of teen-age Elanor.  She’s smart, quick-witted, and can tie Sam into a knot if he tries to get around her. She would have been a fan favorite. Cutting out the Epilogue reduced by 25% the number of LotR characters who my girlfriends in college wished they could be.

Sunset

Sam, about the end of Faërie after the Elves leave Middle-earth: “things don’t really end sharp like that. It’s more like a winter sunset.”  The class had quite a bit of discussion about this line, which omitted the obvious.  As usual here at Idiosophy, we assume JRRT meant what he wrote literally, and only after that’s squared away can we look for symbolic meanings.  This is a perfect example.  When it’s rising or setting in summer, the sun crosses the horizon close to perpendicularly.  (On Midsummer at the Tropic of Cancer, it’s exactly perpendicular.) Sunset is the time from the time the sun’s disk touches the horizon until it’s entirely below.  Twilight is similarly defined (since we’re talking about elves) by the time it takes the sun to descend a certain number of degrees below the horizon.  Both are shortest in summer.  In winter, the sun crosses the horizon at a shallower angle, so it takes longer for the disk to descend the same number of degrees. (These are easiest to see in the extreme: Above the arctic circle, the horizon-crossing angle is so shallow that the top edge of the sun’s disk doesn’t even rise into view at midday.) For any fixed latitude, the length of time that we call “sunset” is longer in the winter than in the summer.  That’s important to a gardener, because it determines your quitting time for the day.

Perhail, Lanhail, and Panthail

Aragorn’s finesse at translating Sam’s name into Sindarin may have been my favorite part. “Samwise” of course wouldn’t sound like good-natured raillery in Elvish, so Aragorn had to suggest a diplomatic change.  In the first draft, the King changed “halfwise” to “plain-wise”.  In the second, he changed it to “full-wise”. I agree with Prof. Olsen that “plain-wise” would have been better, because the two meanings of “plain” in English make it an excellent double entendre. Which is the problem: “Plein” in French means “full”, so if JRRT had left “plain-wise” in the text he might have left himself open to accusations of a French pun. This was obviously unacceptable, so he changed it to “full” in English and Elvish.  Pure cowardice, if anyone should ever ask me.

Easy. Too easy

My teacher in Anglo-Saxon told us that writing alliterative verse is hard. The computer disagrees.

If we use the simple criteria of meter and alliteration, the text of The Lord of the Rings contains 10,740 alliterative lines.  If we insist that the fourth stress not alliterate with the first and third, that number drops to 9,917.  I’m not sure about vowel-alliteration; if we leave those out the number drops to 6,494.  ‘Way back at the beginning of this project, I was expecting there would be a lot, but “a lot” was hundreds, not thousands.  I’m going to need to tighten things up a lot.

Here are some things the computer says are alliterative lines, and I think humans agree:

  • Bracegirdles, Goodbodies, Brockhouses and Proudfoots
  • Mr. Drogo, he married poor…
  • the Sackville-Bagginses scowled and wondered
  • “I want to see the wild country”
  • a sound like mingled song and laughter

Here are some things the computer says are alliterative lines, and I call foul:

  • ‘…it all, Frodo?’ ‘Cousin Frodo has been very close…’
  • …called to the hobbits, “Come, now is the time…”
  • …close Forest. The hobbits felt encouraged…

Here are a couple that I can’t decide about:

  • He knows that it is not one of… (the computer caught this twice in two sentences)
  • was very rich and very peculiar
  • He hated it and loved it as he hated and loved himself

What do you think? Should a whole-word repetition count as alliteration?

A common feature of the false identifications is that there are ellipses. These lines are the middle of a sentence, or they run past the end of a sentence and onto the beginning of the next.  I didn’t put in a requirement that a line end at a period because it’s fairly common for Anglo-Saxon verse to enjamb the lines and end the sentence at a caesura instead.  It looks like I’m going to have to include the caesura somehow, which I was dreading.  It’s not obvious how to see a caesura in written text.

One good thing about a vibrant field of research like Digital Humanities is that new works are constantly coming out.  Like this one, which not only covers Anglo-Saxon alliteration, but also Slavic verse-forms I’ve never even heard of.  One bad thing is that all those works contain a line like, “The paper does not concern the following matters… Word boundaries, caesuras, etc.” (Chapter 1) So no help from that quarter. But wait — Chapter 9 (Kruglova, Smirnova, & Skulacheva) claims they can, in Russian. If it’s good enough for Pushkin, maybe it’s good enough for JRRT.


Works Cited

Plecháč, Petr, et al. Quantitative Approaches to Versification. Institute of Czech Literature of the Czech Academy of Sciences, 2019

 

Rap Music and the Anti-Tolkien

Corey Olsen descended from the presidential throne to present a paper at Mythmoot VI, entitled “The Song of Words: The Prosody of Eminem”. Everyone was scandalized, mostly because we enjoy being the kind of people who can be scandalized by an academic presentation.

Rap has several similarities to Anglo-Saxon poetics. It was intended to be heard, not read. A line doesn’t have a fixed number of syllables. Instead, it’s built around a fixed number of beats. Where Anglo-Saxons alliterated on the beat, rappers rhyme on the beat. Rap has a lot more complexity, though, because the DJ is laying down a beat that may be quite different from the stressed syllables. The interplay between the two beats is another of the raw materials the poet can use to convey meaning. (I am assuming that Anglo-Saxon bards didn’t have a rhythm track behind their performances, though there is no evidence to support such an idea.)

diagrammatic representation of m&m candies

It takes like 10 seconds to make a picture of M&Ms in MS Office

The concept of “rhyme” experiences a certain amount of strain in the lyrics of Eminem, but it’s clearly audible. Assonance, plus a common stress pattern and one common consonant, build up patterns of 3- or 4-syllable rhymes. A lyric sheet with the various rhymes highlighted showed that Eminem has as many as three interleaved multiple rhymes going in succession. At one point, Prof. Olsen calculated that 89% of the syllables in a verse were participating in one of the rhymes. That’s an amazing figure. Chaucer managed 18 rhymes in succession at one point. George Starbuck wrote a ballad that briefly reached a figure of 100%, but only for the last 15 syllables. This kind of density neither CO nor I have seen before.

The most interesting part of the talk was when Prof. Olsen rearranged the lyrics to “Lose Yourself” to align with the beats of the rhythm track: the song has an internal section where the narrator (otherwise trapped in poverty) envisions himself succeeding on stage. In most of the song, the rhymes wind around the rhythm track in a just-barely oscillatory pattern. But during the dream-section, the principal rhymes line up with the beat. What’s more, it was the third beat in the line — the beat that always alliterates in Anglo-Saxon verse. (“Just sayin'” – CO)

The title of Prof. Olsen’s talk is a quote from the Silmarillion, but I’d like to wrap it around and come back to Tolkien again. It’s common to hear critics describe JRRT as reactionary. (Google Scholar returns over 2,000 hits.) Against what was he reacting? Well, in technology, theology, or prose style, practically everything, but in terms of poetry, I think I’ve found a specific person.

Dame Edith Sitwell published “Façade (An Entertainment)” in 1922. It was performed with music written by Sir William Walton. The poems are completely dedicated to rhythm and “the song of words”, with meaning as a secondary consideration. Eminem too is willing to sacrifice sense in favor of sounds; occupational hazard, I think.

Here’s the opening stanza of “Tarantella“, analyzed similarly to the way Prof. Olsen did it. I’ve numbered the rhymes and called out a slide into alliteration with letters:

Where the satyrs are chattering Nymphs with their flattering
            1          1          2                 1
Glimpse of the forest enhance
   2                    3
All the beauty of marrow and Cucumber narrow
                    4                   4
And Ceres will join in the dance
                             3
Where the satyrs can flatter The flat-leaved fruit
            1          1a          a          a          
And the gherkin green And the marrow
           b      b               4
Said Queen Venus "Silenus, we'll settle between us
             5      5                       5
The gourd and the cucumber narrow!"
      ----8-----            4
See, like palaces hid in the lake They shake -
             7                  6         6
Those greenhouses shot By her arrow narrow!
           7                    4     4
The gardener seizes the pieces, like
       8        6         6
Croesus, for gilding the Potting-shed barrow.
   6                                     4

There’s a kind of a-b-a-b rhyme scheme going, in two chunks, but there are four other rhymes interleaved with the two chunks. The two chunks pivot about the alliterative passage.  (I would never have noticed the slant-rhyme between “gourd and the” and “gardener” before I listened to Prof. Olsen’s talk, incidentally.)

I see a lot of connections between what Dame Edith did with poetry set to Modernist music and what Eminem does with rap.  I used the term “Anti-Tolkien” up above because, while there’s a shared knowledge of mythology and a genuine love for the sound of words here, JRRT was meticulous about keeping his word-play and his classical allusions within meaningful sentences. I suspect Sitwell’s Modernist embrace of Chaos is what JRRT pushed against with his own, superficially more traditional, verse.  I’m going to try to fill in the gaps in this idea for a paper next year — may the scandals continue!

Let me simplify the rhyme just to amplify the noise – “Mosh”

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