The world of un- is a Mudville, a burg chock-full of the has-been and the never-was. [D.R.H.]
This is a companion discussion topic for the original entry at https://www.etymonline.com/columns/post/the-unwords-of-unworld
The world of un- is a Mudville, a burg chock-full of the has-been and the never-was. [D.R.H.]
Not having access to your revered volume of the OED I am unable(!) to look up the entry for âunionizeâ.
I like to think that if a workforce were to unionize, then disaffiliate, they would ununionize.
ununiversal, etc.; formally fitting but etymologically un- + uni-, which belongs elsewhere.
Sorry but the temptation is too strong to resist: is a ununicorn just a plain horse?
it would be ununique. But an onionicorn would be a horse of another.
somehow, some miserable way, I just knew everyone would fall down the sidetrack rabbit hole under the aside about un-un-.
As an ESL teacher, I find this text fascinating as it explores one of the most challenging aspects of English for language learners: the prefix âun-â and its complex usage patterns. Here are some key teaching observations:
The entire discussion is unconceivable.
The negating sense and etymology is primary, the reversal sense is of a different etymology, which complicates matters; and that primary sense comes, no doubt, from âneâ, as in Russian, where âneâ can attach to everything without any of the aforementioned difficulties: to nouns, verbs, adverbs, even prepositions, as in ne-do.
The second sense, of reversal, adds to the plethora of English homonyms - the very trait that forced me to explore the languageâs etymologies and fall in love with your beautiful dictionary.
unwords always make me think about history boys, when Hector is teaching about the " Drummer Hodge" poem and says:
âUncoffinedâ is a Hardy usage.
Itâs a compound adjective,
formed by putting âunâ in front of the noun.
Or verb, of course.
Unkissed,
unrejoicing,
unconfessed,
unembraced.
Itâs a turn of phrase
that brings with it
a sense of not sharing.
Of being out of it"
that always stuck with me
We use to regard affirmation and negation just as the two sides of the same coin (which is formally correct) but often overlook the fact that the ânoâ side seems to be considerably heavier.
Few languages resist the temptation of doubling the size of their dictionaries by adopting a swarm of negative prefixes (such as de-, dis-, il-, im-, in-, ir-, mis-, non-, un-, and possibly more), whereas as positive prefixes all we have is a measly over- (with its close relatives uber-, hyper-, super- that seldom sound very natural).
I suspect that this oddity is related to something hardwired in our brain, something that we accept unquestioningly as a matter of course.
Toddlers learn ânoâ much earlier then âyesâ: you offer them spinach and get a resolute NO!, you offer them a candy bar and they just grab it. You drag them to the bathroom for a long overdue wash ignoring a flurry of no! no! no!, you drive them to the beach for a splash in the water and all you get is a volley of delighted giggles (I often wondered whether itâs the soap that makes the difference or rather the contrast between duty and freedom ).
Whereas âyesâ comes much later just as a sort of hypocritical concession to diplomacy.
Perhaps we should be thankful to this odd unbalance, else our paper dictionaries would be twice as thick
A bit untoward this topic, I am reminded of my first stumbling over âantidisestablishmentarianismâ in the history of Virginia and Thomas Jeffersonâs role therein as an undoer who sought his work not to be undone.