A Handbook of Varieties of English: A Multimedia Reference Tool. Volume 1: Phonology. Volume 2: Morphology and Syntax 9783110197181

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A Handbook of Varieties of English 1: Phonology

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A Handbook of Varieties of English A Multimedia Reference Tool Two volumes plus CD-ROM

Edited by

Bernd Kortmann and Edgar W. Schneider together with

Kate Burridge, Rajend Mesthrie, and Clive Upton

Mouton de Gruyter Berlin · New York

A Handbook of Varieties of English Volume 1: Phonology

Edited by

Edgar W. Schneider Kate Burridge Bernd Kortmann Rajend Mesthrie Clive Upton

Mouton de Gruyter Berlin · New York

Mouton de Gruyter (formerly Mouton, The Hague) is a Division of Walter de Gruyter GmbH & Co. KG, Berlin.

앝 Printed on acid-free paper which falls within the guidelines 앪 of the ANSI to ensure permanence and durability.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A handbook of varieties of English : a multimedia reference tool. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 3-11-017532-0 (set of two hardcovers plus CD-ROM : alk. paper) 1. English language ⫺ Variation ⫺ Handbooks, manuals, etc. 2. English language ⫺ Dialects ⫺ Handbooks, manuals, etc. I. Kortmann, Bernd, 1960⫺ II. Schneider, Edgar W. (Edgar Werner), 1954⫺ PE1711.H36 2004 427⫺dc22 2004025131

Bibliographic information published by Die Deutsche Bibliothek Die Deutsche Bibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data is available in the Internet at ⬍http://dnb.ddb.de⬎.

ISBN 3-11-017532-0 ” Copyright 2004 by Walter de Gruyter GmbH & Co. KG, 10785 Berlin All rights reserved, including those of translation into foreign languages. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Cover design: raumfisch.de/sign, Berlin. Typesetting: medionet AG, Berlin. Printing and binding: Kösel GmbH & Co. KG, Altusried. Printed in Germany.

Contents of volume 1 Contents of volume 2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

x

Abbreviations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

xv

General introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bernd Kortmann and Edgar W. Schneider

1

General references . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

10

The British Isles Bernd Kortmann and Clive Upton (eds.) Introduction: varieties of English in the British Isles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bernd Kortmann and Clive Upton

25

English spoken in Orkney and Shetland: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Gunnel Melchers

35

Scottish English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jane Stuart-Smith

47

Irish English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Raymond Hickey

68

Welsh English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Robert Penhallurick

98

English dialects in the North of England: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Joan Beal

113

The English West Midlands: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Urszula Clark

134

The dialect of East Anglia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Trudgill

163

The dialects in the South of England: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ulrike Altendorf and Dominic Watt

178

Channel Island English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Heinrich Ramisch

204

Received Pronunciation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Clive Upton

217

British Creole: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter L. Patrick

231

vi

Contents of volume 1

The Americas and the Caribbean Edgar W. Schneider (ed.) Introduction: varieties of English in the Americas and the Caribbean . . . . . Edgar W. Schneider

247

Standard American English pronunciation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . William A. Kretzschmar, Jr.

257

New England: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Naomi Nagy and Julie Roberts

270

New York, Philadelphia, and other northern cities: phonology . . . . . . . . . . Matthew J. Gordon

282

Rural Southern white accents . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Erik R. Thomas

300

The urban South: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jan Tillery and Guy Bailey

325

The West and Midwest: phonology. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Matthew J. Gordon

338

English in Canada: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Charles Boberg

351

Newfoundland English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sandra Clarke

366

African American Vernacular English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Walter F. Edwards

383

Gullah: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Tracey L. Weldon

393

Cajun Vernacular English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sylvie Dubois and Barbara M. Horvath

407

Chicano English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Otto Santa Ana and Robert Bayley

417

Bahamian English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Becky Childs and Walt Wolfram

435

Jamaican Creole and Jamaican English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Hubert Devonish and Otelemate G. Harry

450

Eastern Caribbean English-derived language varieties: phonology . . . . . . Michael Aceto

481

Contents of volume 1

vii

Bajan: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Renée Blake

501

The creoles of Trinidad and Tobago: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Valerie Youssef and Winford James

508

Suriname creoles: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Norval Smith and Vinije Haabo

525

The Pacific and Australasia Kate Burridge and Bernd Kortmann (eds.) Introduction: varieties of English in the Pacific and Australasia . . . . . . . . . Kate Burridge and Bernd Kortmann

567

New Zealand English: phonology. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Laurie Bauer and Paul Warren

580

Regional and social differences in New Zealand: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . Elizabeth Gordon and Margaret Maclagan

603

Maori English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Paul Warren and Laurie Bauer

614

Australian English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Barbara M. Horvath

625

Regional characteristics of Australian English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . David Bradley

645

Australian creoles and Aboriginal English: phonetics and phonology . . . . . Ian G. Malcolm

656

Bislama: phonetics and phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Terry Crowley

671

Solomon Islands Pijin: phonetics and phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Christine Jourdan and Rachel Selbach

690

Tok Pisin in Papua New Guinea: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Geoff P. Smith

710

Hawai‘i Creole: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Kent Sakoda and Jeff Siegel

729

Fiji English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jan Tent and France Mugler

750

Norfolk Island-Pitcairn English: phonetics and phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . John Ingram and Peter Mühlhäusler

780

viii

Contents of volume 1

Africa, South and Southeast Asia Rajend Mesthrie (ed.) Introduction: varieties of English in Africa and South and Southeast Asia Rajend Mesthrie

805

Nigerian English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ulrike B. Gut

813

Nigerian Pidgin English: phonology. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ben Elugbe

831

Ghanaian English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Magnus Huber

842

Ghanaian Pidgin English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Magnus Huber

866

Liberian Settler English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . John Victor Singler

874

Cameroon English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Augustin Simo Bobda

885

Cameroon Pidgin English (Kamtok): phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Thaddeus Menang

902

East African English (Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania): phonology . . . . . . . . . . . Josef Schmied

918

White South African English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sean Bowerman

931

Black South African English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bertus van Rooy

943

Indian South African English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rajend Mesthrie

953

Cape Flats English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Finn

964

St. Helena English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sheila Wilson

985

Indian English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ravinder Gargesh

992

Pakistani English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1003 Ahmar Mahboob and Nadra Huma Ahmar

Contents of volume 1

ix

Singapore English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1017 Lionel Wee Malaysian English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1034 Loga Baskaran Philippine English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1047 Ma. Lourdes G. Tayao

Synopses The editors Synopsis: phonological variation in the British Isles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1063 Clive Upton Synopsis: phonological variation in the Americas and the Caribbean . . . . . 1075 Edgar W. Schneider Synopsis: phonetics and phonology of English spoken in the Pacific and Australasian region. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1089 Kate Burridge Synopsis: the phonology of English in Africa and South and Southeast Asia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1099 Rajend Mesthrie Global synopsis: phonetic and phonological variation in English world-wide. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1111 Edgar W. Schneider

Index of subjects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1139 Index of varieties and languages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1161

Contents of volume 2 Contents of volume 1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

x

Abbreviations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

xv

General introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bernd Kortmann and Edgar W. Schneider

1

General references . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

10

The British Isles Bernd Kortmann and Clive Upton (eds.) Introduction: varieties of English in the British Isles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bernd Kortmann and Clive Upton

25

English spoken in Orkney and Shetland: morphology, syntax and lexicon . Gunnel Melchers

34

Scottish English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jim Miller

47

Irish English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Markku Filppula

73

Welsh English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Robert Penhallurick

102

English dialects in the North of England: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . Joan Beal

114

The dialect of East Anglia: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Trudgill

142

English dialects in the Southwest: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . Susanne Wagner

154

The varieties of English spoken in the Southeast of England: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Lieselotte Anderwald British Creole: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mark Sebba

175 196

Contents of volume 2

xi

The Americas and the Caribbean Edgar W. Schneider (ed.) Introduction: varieties of English in the Americas and the Caribbean . . . . Edgar W. Schneider

211

Colloquial American English: grammatical features . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Thomas E. Murray and Beth Lee Simon

221

Appalachian English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Michael B. Montgomery

245

Rural and ethnic varieties in the Southeast: morphology and syntax . . . . . Walt Wolfram

281

Newfoundland English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sandra Clarke

303

Urban African American Vernacular English: morphology and syntax . . . . Walt Wolfram

319

Earlier African American English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . Alexander Kautzsch

341

Gullah: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Salikoko S. Mufwene

356

Chicano English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Robert Bayley and Otto Santa Ana

374

Bahamian English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jeffrey Reaser and Benjamin Torbert

391

Jamaican Creole: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter L. Patrick

407

Eastern Caribbean English-derived language varieties: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Michael Aceto

439

The creoles of Trinidad and Tobago: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . Winford James and Valerie Youssef

454

Surinamese creoles: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Donald Winford and Bettina Migge

482

Belize and other central American varieties: morphology and syntax . . . . Geneviève Escure

517

xii

Contents of volume 2

The Pacific and Australasia Kate Burridge and Bernd Kortmann (eds.) Introduction: varieties of English in the Pacific and Australasia . . . . . . . . . Kate Burridge and Bernd Kortmann

547

New Zealand English: morphosyntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Marianne Hundt, Jennifer Hay and Elizabeth Gordon

560

Australian English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Collins and Pam Peters

593

Australian Vernacular English: some grammatical characteristics . . . . . . . . Andrew Pawley

611

Hypocoristics in Australian English . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jane Simpson

643

Australian creoles and Aboriginal English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . Ian G. Malcolm

657

Bislama: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Terry Crowley

682

Solomon Islands English: morphology and syntax. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Christine Jourdan

702

Tok Pisin: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Geoff Smith

720

Hawai’i Creole: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Kent Sakoda and Jeff Siegel

742

Fiji English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . France Mugler and Jan Tent

770

Norfolk Island-Pitcairn English (Pitkern Norfolk): morphology and syntax Peter Mühlhäusler

789

Africa, South and Southeast Asia Rajend Mesthrie (ed.) Introduction: varieties of English in Africa and South and Southeast Asia Rajend Mesthrie

805

Nigerian English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . M.A. Alo and Rajend Mesthrie

813

Nigerian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Nicholas Faraclas

828

Contents of volume 2

xiii

Ghanaian English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Magnus Huber and Kari Dako

854

Ghanaian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Magnus Huber

866

Liberian Settler English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . John Victor Singler

879

Cameroon English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Paul Mbangwana

898

Cameroon Pidgin English (Kamtok): morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . Miriam Ayafor

909

East African English (Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania): morphology and syntax. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Josef Schmied

929

White South African English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sean Bowerman

948

Black South African English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rajend Mesthrie

962

Indian South African English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rajend Mesthrie

974

Cape Flats English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Kay McCormick

993

St. Helena English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1006 Sheila Wilson and Rajend Mesthrie Indian English: syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1016 Rakesh M. Bhatt Butler English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1031 Priya Hosali Pakistani English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1045 Ahmar Mahboob Singapore English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1058 Lionel Wee Malaysian English: morphology and syntax. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1073 Loga Baskaran

xiv

Contents of volume 2

Synopses The editors Synopsis: morphological and syntactic variation in the British Isles . . . . . . 1089 Bernd Kortmann Synopsis: morphological and syntactic variation in the Americas and the Caribbean . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1104 Edgar W. Schneider Synopsis: morphological and syntactic variation in the Pacific and Australasia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1116 Kate Burridge Synopsis: morphological and syntactic variation in Africa and South and Southeast Asia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1132 Rajend Mesthrie Global synopsis: morphological and syntactic variation in English . . . . . . 1142 Bernd Kortmann and Benedikt Szmrecsanyi

Index of subjects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1203 Index of varieties and languages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1220

Abbreviations AAVE AbE/C/P AfBahE AfkE AmE AnBahE AppE AusE/VE/C BahE Baj BelC BIE BrC BrE ButlE CajE CAmC CamP/E CanE CarE Car(E)C CFE ChcE ChnP CollAmE CollSgE EAfE EMarC EngE EModE ME OE ESM FijE GhE/P GuyC HawC HKE IndE

African American Vernacular English (Australian) Aboriginal English / Creole / Pidgin Afro-Bahamian English Afrikaans English American English Anglo-Bahamian English Appalachian English Australian English/Vernacular English/Creoles Bahamian English Bajan (Barbadian Creole) Belizean Creole Bay Islands English (Honduras) British Creole British English (= EngE + ScE + WelE) Butler English (India) Cajun English Central American Creoles (Belize, Miskito, Limón, etc.) Cameroon Pidgin/English Canadian English Caribbean English Carribean (English-lexicon) Creoles Cape Flats English Chicano English Chinese Pidgin English Colloquial American English Colloquial Singapore English East African English Eastern Maroon Creole English English Early Modern English Middle English Old English English in Singapore and Malaysia Fiji English Ghanaian English/Pidgin Guyanese Creole Hawaii Creole Hong Kong English Indian English, Anglo-Indian

xvi

Abbreviations

InlNE IrE JamC/E KenE KPE LibC/E LibSE LibVE LimC LonVE LnkE MalE NEngE NfldE NigP/E NZE NYCE OzE PakE PanC PhilE PhlE RP SAfE BlSAfE CoSAfE InSAfE WhSAfE SAmE SAsE SEAmE ScE ScStE SgE SLVE SolP StAmE StAusCE StAusFE StBrE StE StGhE

Inland Northern (American) English Irish English Jamaican Creole / English Kenyan English Kru Pidgin English Liberian Creole/English Liberian Settler English Liberian Vernacular English Limonese Creole (Costa Rica) London Vernacular English Lankan English Malaysian English New England English Newfoundland English Nigerian Pidgin / English New Zealand English New York City English Ozarks English Pakistani English Panamanian Creole Philadelphia English Philippines English Received Pronunciation South African English Black South African English Coloured South African English Indian South African English White South African English Southern American English South Asian English South Eastern American English enclave dialects Scottish English, Scots Scottish Standard English Singapore English St. Lucian Vernacular English Solomon Islands Pidgin Standard American English Standard Australian Colloquial English Standard Australian Formal English Standard British English Standard English Standard Ghanaian English

Abbreviations

StHE StIndE StJamE SurC TanE TobC Trad-RP TrnC T & TC TP WAfE/P WelE WMwE ZamE

St. Helena English Standard Indian English Standard Jamaican English Suriname Creoles Tanzanian English Tobagonian Creole Traditional Received Pronunciation Trinidadian Creole Trinidadian & mesolectal Tobagonian Creoles Tok Pisin, New Guinea Pidgin, Neomelanesian West African English/Pidgin Welsh English Western and Midwestern American English Zambian English

More abbreviations ESL EFL EIL ENL L1 L2 P/C

English as Second Language English as Foreign Language English as International Language English as Native Language First Language Second Language Pidgins and Creoles

xvii

General introduction Bernd Kortmann and Edgar W. Schneider

The all-important design feature of this Handbook is its focus on structure and on the solid description and documentation of data. The two volumes, accompanied by the CD-ROM, provide comprehensive up-to-date accounts of the salient phonological and grammatical properties of the varieties of English around the world. Reliable structural information in a somewhat standardized format and presented in an accessible way is a necessary prerequisite for any kind of study of language varieties, independent of the theoretical framework used for analysis. It is especially important for comparative studies of the phonological and morphosyntactic patterns across varieties of English, and the inclusion of this kind of data in typological studies (e.g. in the spirit of Kortmann 2004). Of course, all of this structural information can be and has to be put in perspective by the conditions of uses of these varieties, i.e. their sociohistorical backgrounds, their current sociolinguistic settings (not infrequently in multilingual societies), and their associated political dimensions (like issues of norm-setting, language policies and pedagogical applications). Ultimately, all of the varieties under discussion in these Handbooks, certainly so the ones spoken outside of England, but in a sense, looking way back in time, even the English dialects themselves, are products of colonization processes, predominantly the European colonial expansion in the modern age. A number of highly interesting questions, linguistically and culturally, might be asked in this context, including the central issue of why all of this has happened and whether there is an underlying scheme that has continued to drive and motivate the evolution of new varieties of English (Schneider 2003). These linguistic and sociohistorical background issues will be briefly addressed in the introductions of the four regional parts and in some of the individual chapters, but it should be made clear that it is the issue of structural description and comparison which is at the heart of this project. Accordingly, in this General Introduction we focus upon the organization of the Handbook and the information to be culled from it. This Handbook is geared towards documenting and mapping the structural variation among (spontaneously spoken) non-standard varieties of English. Standard English is of course that variety, or set of closely related varieties, which enjoys the highest social prestige. It serves as a reference system and target norm in formal situations, in the language used by people taking on a public persona (including, for example, anchorpersons in the news media), and as a model in the teaching of English worldwide. Here, however, it is treated as is commonplace in modern

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descriptive linguistics, i.e. as a variety on a par with all other (regional, social, ethnic, or contact) varieties of English. Clearly, in terms of its structural properties it is not inherently superior to any of the non-standard varieties. Besides, the very notion of “Standard English” itself obviously refers to an abstraction. On the written level, it is under discussion to what extent a “common core” or a putatively homogeneous variety called “International English” actually exists: there is some degree of uniformity across the major national varieties, but once one looks into details of expression and preferences, there are also considerable differences. On the spoken level, there are reference accents like, for example, Received Pronunciation for British English, but their definition also builds upon abstractions from real individuals’ performance. Thus, in this Handbook especially the grammar of (written) Standard English figures as no more than an implicit standard of comparison, in the sense that all chapters focus upon those phenomena in a given variety which are (more or less strikingly) different from this standard (these being perceived as not, note again, in any sense deficient or inferior to it). In light of the wealth of publications and comprehensive grammars on Standard English, there are no survey chapters on, for example, Standard British or American English in this Handbook. For the reference accents of British and American English chapters have been included.

1.

Coverage

The Handbook covers some 60 (sets of) varieties, including main national standard varieties, distinctive regional, ethnic, and social varieties, major contact varieties (pidgins and creoles), as well as major English as a Second Language varieties in the British Isles (edited by Bernd Kortmann and Clive Upton), the Americas and the Caribbean (edited by Edgar W. Schneider), the Pacific and Australasia (edited by Kate Burridge and Bernd Kortmann), and Africa, South and Southeast Asia (edited by Raj Mesthrie). The inclusion of second-language varieties (e.g. English in India, Singapore, Ghana, Nigeria) and, especially, English-based pidgins and creoles, which add up to more than half of all varieties covered in this Handbook, may come as a surprise to some readers. Normally these varieties are addressed from different perspectives (such as, for example, language policy, language pedagogy, linguistic attitudes, language and identity (construction), substrate vs. superstrate influence), each standing in its own research tradition. Here they are primarily discussed from the point of view of their structural properties. This will make possible comparisons with structural properties of, for example, other varieties of English spoken in the same region, or second-language or contact varieties in other parts of the English-speaking world. At the same time the availability of solid structural descriptions may open new perspectives for a fruitful interaction

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between the different research traditions within which second-language and contact varieties are studied. The boundaries of what is considered and accepted as “varieties of English” and thus included in the Handbooks has been drawn fairly widely, to include English-based pidgins and creoles which at first sight look quite different from what many English-speaking people may have been exposed to. Pidgins are makeshift contact varieties used in communication between people who share no other tongue. Creoles, according to the classic definition, emerge when pidgins become a new generation’s native language. Pidgins are usually described as structurally reduced, while creoles are structurally complex and fulfill all communicative requirements by human speakers, but in practice the distinction between both language types is anything but clearcut, as some of the contributions in the Handbook illustrate. Traditionally, creoles have been regarded as distinct languages of their own, but linguists agree that the line between what constitutes a separate language as against a dialect of a language is usually drawn on political and social grounds rather than because of structural properties. In accepting English-oriented pidgins and creoles in the present context, we adopt a trend of recent research to consider them as contact varieties closely related to, possibly to be categorized as varieties of, their respective superstrate languages (e.g. Mufwene 2001). Creoles, and also some pidgins, in many regions vary along a continuum from acrolectal forms, relatively close to English and used by the higher sociolinguistic strata in formal contexts, to basilects, “deep” varieties maximally different from English. Most of our contributions focus upon the mesolects, the middle ranges which in most creole-speaking societies are used most widely. For other varieties, too, it may be asked why or why not they have been selected for inclusion in this Handbook. Among the considerations that led to the present selection, the following figured most prominently: amount and quality of existing data and research documentation for the individual varieties, intensity of ongoing research activities, availability of authors, and space constraints (leading, for example, to the exclusion of strictly local accents and dialects). More information on the selection of varieties will be given in the regional introductions by the editors.

2.

Organization of the Handbook

The overall organization of the Handbook is very simple: one volume each for phonology and grammar (i.e. morphology and syntax), with each of the volumes falling into four parts according to region or rather continent(s). The major world regions relevant for the discussion of varieties of English are the following: the British Isles, the Americas, the Caribbean, Africa, (South and Southeast) Asia, Australasia and the Pacific (or Oceania). These world regions have been lumped together into the four parts spelt out in section 1, according to criteria such as

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number of relevant varieties, their (present and/or past) relatedness, availability of documentation and of researchers into the specific issues under discussion, and the expertise of the individual volume editors. Following the general introduction, each volume opens with a list of general reference works, all of them exclusively book publications, relevant across the world regions covered in the Handbook and for individual world regions. Within the two volumes, each of the four regional parts opens with an introduction by the responsible editor(s) which puts in perspective the varieties spoken in the relevant world region(s) and provides a brief guide to the chapters written on them. These regional introductions include accounts of the histories, the cultural and sociolinguistic situations, and the most important data sources for the relevant locations, ethnic groups and varieties. Further issues addressed may include a survey of current research, but also the discussion of such notoriously problematic notions as dialect boundaries, dialect areas, or traditional as opposed to modern dialects, and the problem of treating pidgins and creoles as varieties of English. Following the regional parts, each of the volumes concludes with a fifth part in which the reader will find two types of synopses: four regional synopses and a general synopsis. In the former, the editors will summarize the most striking properties of the sets of varieties of English spoken in the individual world regions and, within them, of selected cross-sections of varieties (e.g. contact varieties). Each volume will close with a general synopsis (authored by Edgar W. Schneider for the phonology volume, and Bernd Kortmann and Benedikt Szmrecsanyi for the morphology and syntax volume) on the most noteworthy findings and tendencies on phonological and morphosyntactic variation in English from a global perspective. What will emerge from the synopses is that many of the features described for individual varieties or sets of varieties in this Handbook are not unique to these (sets of) varieties. This is true both for morphology and syntax and for phonology. As a matter of fact, quite a number of morphosyntactic features described as salient properties of individual varieties may strike the reader as typical of other varieties, too, possibly even of the grammar of spoken English in general. In a similar vein, it turns out that certain phonological processes (like the monophthongization of certain diphthongs, the fronting, backing or merging of some vowels, and some consonantal substitutions or suprasegmental processes) can be documented in quite a number of fairly disparate language varieties – not surprisingly, perhaps, given shared underlying principles like constraints of articulatory space or tendencies towards simplification and the reduction of contrasts. It seems possible to distinguish three broad groups of non-standard features according to their distribution across varieties of English: Group I: by far widest distribution on a global scale Group II: foundrelativelyfrequentlyinoneormorepartsoftheEnglish speakingworld

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Group III: restricted to relatively few non-standard varieties of English (possibly only one variety) As it turns out, only very few of the formal variants belong to Group III. The distributions of selected individual features, both morphosyntactic and phonological, across varieties world-wide will be visualized by the interactive world maps on the accompanying CD-ROM (see also section 4 below). On these maps, each of the selected features, for almost all of the varieties under discussion, is categorized as occurring regularly (marked as “A” and colour-coded in red), occasionally or only in certain specified environments (marked as “B” and represented by a pink circle) or practically not at all (“C”, grey). These innovative maps, which are accompanied by statistical distribution data on the spread of selected variants, will provide the reader with an immediate visual representation of regional distribution and diffusion patterns. It should be noted that, not surprisingly, it has turned out to be impossible to obtain accurate documentation on the presence or absence of each and every feature in each one of the varieties, so category “C” also includes those cases, for example, where no positive evidence as to the presence of a given feature has been provided, though the positive non-existence of anything seems impossible to prove. Also, any such categorization by necessity enforces problematic distinctions at times, so that finely-graded distinctions and conditions cannot be represented appropriately. For a summary presentation and discussion of the major results of these comparisons the reader is referred to the regional and the global synopses.

3.

Nature and structure of the contributions

The chapters are descriptive survey articles providing state-of-the-art reports on major issues in current research, with a common core in order to make the Handbook an interesting and useful tool especially from a comparative, i.e. cross-dialectal and cross-linguistic, point of view. All chapters aim primarily at a qualitative rather than quantitative perspective, i.e. whether or not a given feature occurs is more important than its frequency. Of course, for varieties where research has focused upon documenting frequency relationships between variants of variables, some information on relevant quantitative tendencies has been provided. Depending upon the research coverage in a given world region (which varies widely from one continent to another), some contributions build upon existing sociolinguistic, dialectological, or structural research, and a small number of other chapters makes systematic use of available computerized corpora. In some cases and for some regions the chapters in this Handbook provide the first-ever systematic qualitative survey of the phonological and grammatical properties of English as spoken there.

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For almost all varieties of English covered there are companion chapters in the phonology and morphosyntax volumes. In these cases it is in the phonology chapter that the reader will find a concise introductory section on the historical and cultural background as well as the current sociolinguistic situation of the relevant variety or set of varieties spoken at this location. In order to ensure a certain degree of comparability, the authors were given a set of core issues that they were asked to address (provided something interesting can be said about them in the respective variety). For the phonology chapters, this set included the following items: – phonological systems – phonetic realization(s) and (phonotactic) distributions of a selection of phonemes (to be selected according to salience in the variety in question) – specific phonological processes at work in the relevant variety – lexical distribution – prosodic features (stress, rhythm) – intonation patterns – observations/generalizations on the basis of lexical sets à la Wells (1982) and Foulkes/Docherty (1999), a standard reading passage and/or samples of free conversation (cf. also section 5 on the content of the CD-ROM below). It is worth noting that for some of the contributions, notably the chapters on pidgins and creoles, the lexical sets were not sufficient or suitable to describe the variability found. In such cases authors were encouraged to expand the set of target words, or replace one of the items. The reading passage was also adjusted or substituted by some authors, for instance because it was felt to be culturally inappropriate. This is the corresponding set for the morphology and syntax chapters: – – – – – – – – – –

tense – aspect – modality systems auxiliaries negation relativization complementation other subordination phenomena (notably adverbial subordination) agreement noun phrase structure pronominal systems word order (and information structure: especially focus/topicalizing constructions) – selected salient features of the morphological paradigms of, for example, auxiliaries and pronouns. Lexical variation was not our primary concern, given that it fails to lend itself to the systematic generalization and comparability we are aiming for in this Hand-

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book. However, authors were offered the opportunity to comment on highly salient features of the vocabulary of any given variety (briefly and within the overall space constraints) if this was considered rewarding. The reader may find such information on distinctive properties of the respective vocabularies in the morphology and syntax chapters. In the interest of combining guidance for readers, efficiency, space constraints, but also the goal of comprehensiveness, bibliographic references are systematically divided between three different types of reference lists. As was stated above, this introduction is accompanied by a list of “General References” which compiles a relatively large number of books which, taken together, are central to the field of world-wide varieties of English – “classic” publications, collective volumes, particularly important publications, and so on. It is understood that in the individual contributions all authors may refer to titles from this list without these being repeated in their respective source lists. Each of the individual chapters ends with a list of “Selected References” comprising, on average, only 15–20 references – including the most pertinent ones on the respective variety (or closely related varieties) beyond any others possibly included in the General References list, and possibly others cited in the respective article. In other words, the Selected References do not repeat any of the General References given at the very beginning of both Handbook volumes. Thirdly, a “Comprehensive Bibliography”, with further publications specifically on the phonology and morphosyntax of each of the varieties covered in the Handbook, for which no space limitations were imposed, is available on the CD-ROM. The idea behind this limitation of the number of references allowed to go with each article was to free the texts of too much technical apparatus and thus to increase their reader-friendliness for a target audience of non-specialists while at the same time combining basic guidance to the most important literature (in the General References list) with the possibility of providing comprehensive coverage of the writings available on any given region (in the Bibliographies on the CD-ROM). It must be noted, however, that at times this rule imposed limitations upon possible source credits allowed in the discussions, because to make the books self-contained authors were allowed to refer to titles from the General and the Select References lists only. In other words, it is possible that articles touch upon material drawn from publications listed in the CD-ROM bibliographies without explicit credit, although every effort has been made to avoid this.

4.

The CD-ROM

The two volumes of the Handbook are accompanied by a CD-ROM providing illustrative, additional and incidental material. Most importantly, given that in their natural setting language varieties are spoken and heard rather than described in

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writing but that such oral material is hardly ever available, the CD contains audio samples, new sound material for each variety that, depending upon availability, may comprise (partly) phonemically transcribed samples of free conversation, a standard reading passage, and recordings of the spoken “lexical sets” which define and illustrate vocalic variation (Wells 1982). Another highly innovative feature of the CD is the vivid and in parts interactive graphic illustration of the variability discussed in the books. The user is provided with representations of regional vowel charts and with interactive maps showing the geographical distribution of individual phonological and grammatical features and, on a global scale, their degree of pervasiveness across the varieties of English. The CD-ROM also includes the “Comprehensive Bibliographies” for the individual chapters mentioned above. For individual varieties, users will find phonetic analyses of sounds and intonation patterns as well as further incidental material considered relevant by the author.

5.

Acknowledgements

A publication project as huge as this one would have been impossible, indeed impossible even to think of, without the support of a great number of people devoted to their profession and to the subject of this Handbook. First among these, the editors would like thank the members of their editorial teams: in Freiburg, these are Melitta Cocan, Cosima Diehl, Cara Heinzmann, Isabella Risorgi, Anna Rosen, Susanne Wagner, Veronika Westhoff and, above all, Monika Schulz; in Regensburg, Regina Trüb and Petra Orendi; in Cape Town, Sarah Johnson and Rowan Mentis. The editors are also much indebted to Elizabeth Traugott, for all the thought she gave to this project right from the very beginning of the planning stage and her extremely helpful feedback on draft versions of chapters, introductions and synopses. Without Jürgen Handke, the rich audio-visual multimedia support of the chapters in the Handbook would have been impossible to conceive of. Furthermore, we have always benefitted from the support and interest invested into this project by Anke Beck and the people at Mouton de Gruyter. Finally, and most importantly, of course, the editors would like to thank the contributors and informants for having conformed to the rigid guidelines, deadlines and time frames that we set them for the various stages of (re)writing their chapters and providing the input material for the CD-ROM and, in the final stages of the editing process, for not having tired of answering last-minute questions. This Handbook truly represents an impressive product of scholarly collaboration of people from all around the globe. Right until the end it has been an exciting and wonderful experience for the editors (as well as, we would like to think, for the authors) to bring all these scholars and their work together, and we believe that this shows in the quality of the chapters and the material presented on the CD-ROM. May this Handbook be enjoyed, appreciated and esteemed by its read-

General introduction

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ers, and treasured as the reference work and research tool it was designed as for anyone interested in and concerned with variation in English!

References Kortmann, Bernd (ed.) 2004 Dialectology meets Typology: Dialect Grammar from a Cross-Linguistic Perspective. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Mufwene, Salikoko S. 2001 The Ecology of Language Evolution. (Cambridge Approaches to Language Contact.) Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Schneider, Edgar W. 2003 The dynamics of New Englishes: From identity construction to dialect birth. Language 79: 233–281.

General references The following is a list of general reference works relevant across the world regions covered in the Handbook and for individual of these world regions. The list consists exclusively of book publications. Those monographs, dictionaries and collective volumes in the list which are referred to in the chapters of the Handbook will not be separately listed in the selected references at the end of the individual chapters. Aceto, Michael and Jeffrey Williams (eds.) 2003 Contact Englishes of the Eastern Caribbean. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 30.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Aitken, Jack and Tom McArthur (eds.) 1979 The Languages of Scotland. Edinburgh: Chambers. Algeo, John (ed.) 2001 The Cambridge History of the English Language, Volume VI: English in North America. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Allen, Harold B. 1973 –1976 Linguistic Atlas of the Upper Midwest. 3 Volumes. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Allen, Harold B. and Gary Underwood (eds.) 1971 Readings in American Dialectology. New York: Appleton-Century Crofts. Allen, Harold B. and Michael D. Linn (eds.) 1997 Dialects and Language Variation. New York: Academic Press. Alleyne, Mervyn C. 1980 Comparative Afro-American: An Historical-Comparative Study of EnglishBased Afro-American Dialects of the New World. (Linguistica Extranea 11.) Ann Arbor: Karoma. Allsopp, Richard (ed.) 1996 Dictionary of Caribbean English Usage. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Anderson, Peter M. 1987 A Structural Atlas of the English Dialects. London: Croom Helm. Anderwald, Lieselotte 2002 Negation in Non-standard British English: Gaps, Regularizations, Asymmetries. (Routledge Studies in Germanic Linguistics 8.) London/New York: Routledge. Atwood, E. Bagby 1953 A Survey of Verb Forms in the Eastern United States. (Studies in American English 2.) Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Avis, Walter S., Charles Crate, Patrick Drysdale, Douglas Leechman and Matthew H. Scargill 1967 A Dictionary of Canadianisms on Historical Principles. Toronto: Gage. Bailey, Beryl Loftman 1966 Jamaican Creole Syntax. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bailey, Richard W. and Jay L. Robinson 1973 Varieties of Present-Day English. New York: Macmillan.

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Bailey, Richard W. and Manfred Görlach (eds.) 1982 English as a World Language. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Bailey, Guy, Natalie Maynor and Patricia Cukor-Avila (eds.) 1991 The Emergence of Black English: Text and Commentary. (Creole Language Library 8.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Baker, Philip and Adrienne Bruyn (eds.) 1998 St. Kitts and the Atlantic Creoles: The Texts of Samuel Augustus Mathews in Perspective. (Westminster Creolistics Series 4). London: University of Westminster Press. Bamgbose, Ayo, Ayo Banjo and Andrew Thomas (eds.) 1997 New Englishes – A West African Perspective. Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press. Baugh, John 1983 Black Street Speech: Its History, Structure, and Survival. Austin: University of Texas Press. Baumgardner, Robert J. 1996 South Asian English: Structure, Use, and Users. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press. Bell, Allan and Koenrad Kuiper (eds.) 2000 New Zealand English. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 25.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins and Wellington: Victoria University Press. Bernstein, Cynthia, Thomas Nunnally and Robin Sabino (eds.) 1997 Language Variety in the South Revisited. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. Bickerton, Derek 1975 Dynamics of a Creole System. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1981 Roots of Language. Ann Arbor: Karoma. Blair, David and Peter Collins (eds.) 2001 English in Australia. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 26.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Bliss, Alan J. 1979 Spoken English in Ireland 1600–1740. Dublin: Dolmen Press. Bolton, Kingsley (ed.) 2002 Hong Kong English: Autonomy and Creativity. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press. Britain, David (ed.) forthcoming Language in the British Isles. (Fully updated and revised second edition). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Burchfield, Robert (ed.) 1994 The Cambridge History of the English Language, Volume V: English in Britain and Overseas: Origins and Development. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Carrington, Lawrence D., Dennis Craig and Ramon Todd Dandare (eds.) 1983 Studies in Caribbean Language. Papers Presented at the 3rd Biennial Conference of the Society for Caribbean Linguistics Held in Aruba, Netherlands Antilles from 16–20 Sept 1980 . St. Augustine, Trinidad: Society for Caribbean Linguistics.

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Carver, Craig M. 1987 American Regional Dialects: A Word Geography. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Cassidy, Frederic G. 1961 Jamaica Talk: 300 Years of the English Language in Jamaica. London: Macmillan. Cassidy, Frederic G. (ed.) 1985 –2002 Dictionary of American Regional English. 4 Volumes to date. Cambridge, MA/London: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Cassidy, Frederic G. and Robert B. LePage (eds.) 1967 Dictionary of Jamaican English. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Chambers, J.K. 2003 Sociolinguistic Theory: Linguistic Variation and its Social Significance. 2nd edition. (Language in Society 22.) Oxford: Blackwell. Chambers, J.K. and Peter Trudgill 1998 Dialectology. 2nd edition. (Cambridge Textbooks in Linguistics.) Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Chambers, J.K. (ed.) 1975 Canadian English: Origins and Structures. Toronto: Methuen. Chambers, J.K., Peter Trudgill and Natalie Schilling-Estes (eds.) 2002 The Handbook of Language Variation and Change. (Blackwell Handbooks in Linguistics.) Malden, MA: Blackwell. Cheshire, Jenny L. (ed.) 1991 English Around the World: Sociolinguistic Perspectives. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Cheshire, Jenny L. and Dieter Stein (eds.) 1997 Taming the Vernacular: From Dialect to Written Standard Language. Harlow: Longman. Christian, Donna, Nanjo Dube and Walt Wolfram 1988 Variation and Change in Geographically Isolated Communities: Appalachian English and Ozark English. (American Dialect Society 74.) Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. Christie, Pauline, Lawrence Carrington, Barbara Lalla and Velma Pollard (eds.) 1998 Studies in Caribbean Language II. Papers from the Ninth Biennial Conference of the SCL, 1992. St. Augustine, Trinidad: Society for Caribbean Linguistics. Clarke, Sandra (ed.) 1993 Focus on Canada. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 11.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Collins, Peter and David Blair (eds.) 1989 Australian English: the Language of a New Society. St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press. Corbett, John, J. Derrick McClure and Jane Stuart-Smith (eds.) 2003 The Edinburgh Companion to Scots. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Crystal, David 2003 The Cambridge Encyclopedia of the English Language. 2nd edition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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D’Costa, Jean and Barbara Lalla 1989 Voices in Exile: Jamaican Texts of the 18th and 19th Centuries. Tuscaloosa/ London: University of Alabama Press. Davis, Lawrence M. 1983 English Dialectology: An Introduction. University, Alabama: University of Alabama Press. Day, Richard R. (ed.) 1980 Issues in English Creoles: Papers from the 1975 Hawaii Conference. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 2.) Heidelberg: Groos. De Klerk, Vivian (ed.) 1996 Focus on South Africa. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 15.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. De Wolf, Gaelan Dodds 1992 Social and Regional Factors in Canadian English. Study of Phonological Variables and Grammatical Items in Ottawa and Vancouver. Toronto: Canadian Scholar’s Press. DeCamp, David and Ian F. Hancock (eds.) 1974 Pidgins and Creoles: Current Trends and Prospects. Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press. Devonish, Hubert 1989 Talking in Tones: A Study of Tone in Afro-European Creole Languages. London/Barbados: Karia Press and Caribbean Academic Publications. Eckert, Penelope (ed.) 1991 New Ways of Analyzing Sound Change. (Qualitative Analyses of Linguistic Structure 5.) New York/San Diego: Academic Press. Edwards, Viv 1986 Language in a Black Community. (Multilingual Matters 24.) Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Edwards, Walter F. and Donald Winford (ed.) 1991 Verb Phrase Patterns in Black English and Creole. Detroit: Wayne State University. Ellis, Alexander J. 1869 –1889 On Early English Pronunciation. 5 Volumes. London: Trübner. Fasold, Ralph W. 1972 Tense Marking in Black English: A Linguistic and Social Analysis. (Urban Language Series 8.) Arlington, VA: Center for Applied Linguistics. Fasold, Ralph W. and Roger W. Shuy (eds.) 1970 Teaching Standard English in the Inner City. (Urban Language Series 6.) Washington, D.C.: Center for Applied Linguistics. 1975 Analyzing Variation in Language. Papers from the Second Colloquium on New Ways of Analyzing Variation. Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press. Ferguson, Charles and Shirley Brice Heat (eds.) 1981 Language in the USA. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Filppula, Markku 1999 The Grammar of Irish English: Language in Hibernian Style. (Routledge Studies in Germanic Linguistics 5.) London/New York: Routledge.

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Foley, Joseph A. (ed.) 1988 New Englishes – The Case of Singapore. Singapore: Singapore University Press. Foley, Joseph A., Thiru Kandiah, Bao Zhiming, Anthea F. Gupta, Lubna Alasgoff, Ho Chee Lick, Lionel Wee, Ismail S. Talib and Wendy Bokhurst-Heng 1998 English in New Cultural Contexts: Reflections from Singapore. Singapore: Oxford University Press. Foulkes, Paul and Gerard Docherty (eds.) 1999 Urban Voices: Accent Studies in the British Isles. London: Arnold. Francis, W. Nelson 1958 The Structure of American English. New York: Ronald Press. Frazer, Timothy C. (ed.) 1993 ‘Heartland’ English: Variation and Transition in the American Midwest. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. García, Ofelia and Ricardo Otheguy (eds.) 1989 English across Cultures, Cultures across English: A Reader in Cross-Cultural Communication. (Contributions to the Sociology of Language 53.) Berlin/ New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Gilbert, Glenn (ed.) 1987 Pidgin and Creole Languages: Essays in Memory of John E. Reinecke. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Gordon, Elizabeth and Tony Deverson 1998 New Zealand English and English in New Zealand. Auckland: New House Publishers. Gordon, Matthew J. 2001 Small-Town Values and Big-City Vowels: A Study of the Northern Cities Shift in Michigan. (Publication of the American Dialect Society 84.) Durham: Duke University Press. Görlach, Manfred (ed.) 1985 Focus on Scotland. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 5.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Görlach, Manfred and John A. Holm (eds.) 1986 Focus on the Caribbean. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 8.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Green, Lisa 2002 African American English: A Linguistic Introduction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Guy, Gregory, John Baugh, Crawford Feagin and Deborah Schiffrin (eds.) 1996 Towards a Social Science of Language, Volume 1: Variation and Change in Language and Society. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. 1997 Towards a Social Science of Language, Volume 2: Social Interaction and Discourse Structures. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Hackert, Stephanie 2004 Urban Bahamian Creole. System and Variation. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Hancock, Ian F., Morris Goodman, Bernd Heine and Edgar Polomé (eds.) 1979 Readings in Creole Studies. Ghent: Story-Scientia.

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Hewitt, Roger 1986 White Talk, Black Talk: Inter-Racial Friendship and Communication amongst Adolescents. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hickey, Raymond 2005 The Sound Atlas of Irish English. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. forthcoming The Legacy of Colonial English: Transported Dialects. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Holm, John A. 1988 –1989 Pidgins and Creoles. 2 Volumes. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2000 An Introduction to Pidgins and Creoles. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Holm, John A. and Peter Patrick forthcoming Comparative Creole Syntax: Parallel Outlines of 18 Creole Grammars. London: Battlebridge. Holm, John A. (ed.) 1983 Central American English. (Varieties of English around the World, Text Series 2.) Heidelberg: Groos. Huber, Magnus and Mikael Parkvall (eds.) 1999 Spreading the Word: The Issue of Diffusion among the Atlantic Creoles. London: University of Westminster Press. Hughes, Arthur and Peter Trudgill 1996 English Accents and Dialects: An Introduction to Social and Regional Varieties of English in the British Isles. 3rd edition. London: Arnold. Hymes, Dell H. (ed.) 1971 Pidginization and Creolization of Languages: Proceedings of a Conference, Held at the University of the West Indies Mona, Jamaica, April 1968. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. James, Winford and Valerie Youssef 2002 The Languages of Tobago. Genesis, Structure and Perspectives. St. Augustine, Trinidad: University of the West Indies. Jones, Charles (ed.) 1997 The Edinburgh History of the Scots Language. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Kachru, Braj B. 1983 The Indianization of English: The English Language in India. Delhi: Oxford University Press. Kachru, Braj B. (ed.) 1982 The Other Tongue: English Across Cultures. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Kautzsch, Alexander 2002 The Historical Evolution of Earlier African American English. An Empirical Comparison of Early Sources. (Topics in English Linguistics 38.) Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Keesing, Roger M. 1988 Melanesian Pidgin and the Oceanic Substrate. Stanford: Stanford University Press.

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Kirk, John M. and Dónall P. Ó Baoill 2001 Language Links: The Languages of Scotland and Ireland. Belfast: Cló Olscoill na Banríona [Queen’s University Press]. Kirk, John M., Stewart Sanderson and John D.A. Widdowson (eds.) 1985 Studies in Linguistic Geography: The Dialects of English in Britain and Ireland. London et al.: Croom Helm. Kortmann, Bernd, Tanja Herrmann, Lukas Pietsch and Susanne Wagner 2005 A Comparative Grammar of British English Dialects: Agreement, Gender, Relative Clauses. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Kortmann, Bernd (ed.) 2004 Dialectology Meets Typology: Dialect Grammar from a Cross-Linguistic Perspective. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Krapp, George P. 1925 The English Language in America. 2 Volumes. New York: Century. Kretzschmar, William A. and Edgar W. Schneider 1996 Introduction to Quantitative Analysis of Linguistic Survey Data: An Atlas by the Numbers. (Empirical Linguistics Series.) Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Kretzschmar, William A., Virginia G. McDavid, Theodore K. Lerud and Ellen Johnson (eds.) 1993 Handbook of the Linguistic Atlas of the Middle and South Atlantic States. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Kurath, Hans 1949 A Word Geography of the Eastern United States. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Kurath, Hans and Raven I. McDavid, Jr. 1961 The Pronunciation of English in the Atlantic States. Based upon the Collections of the Linguistic Atlas. (Studies in American English 3.) Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Kurath, Hans (ed.) 1939 –1943 Linguistic Atlas of New England. Providence: Brown University Press. Labov, William 1966 The Social Stratification of English in New York City. (Urban Language Series 1.) Washington, D.C.: Center for Applied Linguistics. 1972a Language in the Inner City: Studies in the Black English Vernacular. (Conduct and Communication 3.) Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. 1972b Sociolinguistic Patterns. (Conduct and Communication 4.) Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. 1980 Locating Language in Time and Space. (Quantitative Analyses of Linguistic Structure.) New York: Academic Press. 1994 Principles of Linguistic Change, Volume 1: Internal Factors. (Language in Society 20.) Oxford/Malden, MA: Blackwell. 2001 Principles of Linguistic Change, Volume 2: Social Factors. (Language in Society 29.) Oxford/Malden, MA: Blackwell. Labov, William, Richard Steiner and Malcah Yaeger 1972 A Quantitative Study of Sound Change in Progress: Report on National Science Foundation Contract NSF-GS-3278 University of Pennsylvania. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Regional Survey.

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Labov, William, Sharon Ash and Charles Boberg forthcoming Atlas of North American English: Phonetics, Phonology and Sound Change. (Topics in English Linguistics 41.) Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Lalla, Barbara and Jean D’Costa 1990 Language in Exile: Three Hundred Years of Jamaican Creole. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. Lanehart, Sonja L. (ed.) 2001 Sociocultural and Historical Contexts of African American English. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 27.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. LePage, Robert B. and Andrée Tabouret-Keller 1985 Acts of Identity: Creole-based Approaches to Language and Ethnicity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lindquist, Hans, Maria Estling, Staffan Klintborg and Magnus Levin (eds.) 1998 The Major Varieties of English: Papers from MAVEN 97, Växjö 20–22 November 1997. (Acta Wexionensia: Humaniora; 1.) Växjö: Växjo University. Matthews, William 1938 Cockney Past and Present: A Short History of the Dialect of London. London: Routledge. McArthur, Tom 1992 The Oxford Companion to the English Language. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 2002 Oxford Guide to World English. Oxford: Oxford University Press. McMillan, James B. and Michel B. Montgomery 1989 Annotated Bibliography of Southern American English. Tuscaloosa/London: University of Alabama Press. McWhorter, John H. (ed.) 2000 Language Change and Language Contact in Pidgins and Creoles. (Creole Language Library 21.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Mehrotra, Raja Ram 1998 Indian English – Text and Interpretation. (Varieties of English around the World, Text Series 7.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Mencken, Henry 1963 The American Language: An Inquiry into the Development of English in the United States. With the Assistance of David W. Maurer. New York: Knopf. Mesthrie, Rajend (ed.) 1995 Language and Social History: Studies in South African Sociolinguistics. Cape Town: David Philip. 2002 Language in South Africa. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Milroy, James 1981 Regional Accents of English: Belfast. Belfast: Blackstaff. Milroy, James and Lesley Milroy (eds.) 1993 Real English: The Grammar of English Dialects in the British Isles. (Real Language Series.) London: Longman.

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Montgomery, Michael B. and Guy Bailey (eds.) 1986 Language Variety in the South: Perspectives in Black and White. University, AL: University of Alabama Press. Montgomery, Michael B. and Thomas Nunnally (eds.) 1998 From the Gulf States and Beyond. The Legacy of Lee Pederson and LAGS. Tuscaloosa, AL/London: University of Alabama Press. Mufwene, Salikoko S. 2001 The Ecology of Language Evolution. (Cambridge Approaches to Language Contact.) Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mufwene, Salikoko S., Guy Bailey, John Baugh and John R. Rickford (eds.) 1998 African-American English. Structure, History and Use. London: Routledge. Mufwene, Salikoko S. (ed.) 1993 Africanisms in Afro-American Language Varieties. Athens: University of Georgia Press. Mühleisen, Susanne 2002 Creole Discourse: Exploring Prestige Formation and Change across Caribbean English-Lexicon Creoles. (Creole Language Library 24.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Mühlhäusler, Peter 1997 Pidgin and Creole Linguistics. (Westminster Creolistic Series 3.) London: University of Westminster Press. Muysken, Pieter and Norval Smith (eds.) 1986 Substrata versus Universals in Creole Genesis. Papers from the Amsterdam Creole Workshop, April 1985. (Creole Language Library 1.) Amsterdam/ Philadelphia: Benjamins. Myers-Scotton, Carol 2002 Contact Linguistics: Bilingual Encounters and Grammatical Outcomes. (Oxford Linguistics.) Oxford: Oxford University Press. Nagle, Stephen J. and Sara L. Sanders (eds.) 2003 English in the Southern United States. (Studies in English Language.) Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Neumann-Holzschuh, Ingrid and Edgar W. Schneider (eds.) 2000 Degrees of Restructuring in Creole Languages. (Creole Language Library 22.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Nihalani, Paroo, Priya Hosali and Ray K. Tongue 1989 Indian and British English: A Handbook of Usage and Pronunciation. (Oxford India Paperbacks.) Delhi: Oxford University Press. Noss, Richard B. (ed.) 1984 An Overview of Language Issues in South-East Asia: 1950–1980. Singapore: Oxford University Press. Orton, Harold (ed.) 1962 –1971 Survey of English Dialects: The Basic Material. 4 Volumes. Leeds: Arnold. Orton, Harold, Stewart Sanderson and John Widdowson (eds.) 1978 The Linguistic Atlas of England. London: Croom Helm. Parasher, S.V. 1991 Indian English: Functions and Form. (Sell-series in English Language and Literature 19.) New Delhi: Bahri.

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Parkvall, Mikael 2000 Out of Africa: African Influences in Atlantic Creoles. London: Battlebridge. Patrick, Peter L. 1999 Urban Jamaican Creole: Variation in the Mesolect. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 17.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Pederson, Lee (ed.) 1986 –1992 The Linguistic Atlas of the Gulf States. 7 Volumes. Athens, GA: University of Georgia Press. Plag, Ingo (ed.) 2003 Phonology and Morphology of Creole Languages. (Linguistische Arbeiten 478.) Tübingen: Niemeyer. Platt, John, Mian Lian Ho and Heidi Weber 1983 Singapore and Malaysia. (Varieties of English around the World, Text Series 4.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. 1984 The New Englishes. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Poplack, Shana and Sali Tagliamonte 2001 African American English in the Diaspora. (Language in Society 30.) Oxford/ Malden, MA: Blackwell. Poplack, Shana (ed.) 2000 The English History of African American English. (Language in Society 28.) Oxford/Malden, MA: Blackwell. Preston, Dennis R. (ed.) 1993 American Dialect Research: An Anthology Celebrating the 100th Anniversary of the American Dialect Society. (Centennial Series of the American Dialect Society.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Rampton, Ben 1995 Crossing: Language and Ethnicity among Adolescents. (Real Language Series.) London: Longman. Rickford, John R. 1987 Dimensions of a Creole Continuum: History, Texts, and Linguistics Analysis of Guyanese Creole. Stanford: Stanford University Press. 1999 African American Vernacular English: Features, Evolution, Educational Implications. (Language in Society 26.) Oxford/Malden, MA: Blackwell. Rickford, John R. and Suzanne Romaine (eds.) 1999 Creole Genesis, Attitudes and Discourse: Studies Celebrating Charlene J. Sato. (Creole Language Library 20.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Roberts, Peter A. 1988 West Indians and their Language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Romaine, Suzanne 1988 Pidgin and Creole Languages. (Longman Linguistics Library.) London/New York: Longman. Schmied, Josef J. 1991 English in Africa: An Introduction. (Longman Linguistics Library.) London: Longman. Schneider, Edgar W. 1989 American Earlier Black English. Morphological and Syntactical Variables. Tuscaloosa, AL/London: University of Alabama Press.

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Schneider, Edgar W. (ed.) 1996 Focus on the USA. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 16.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. 1997a Englishes Around the World, Volume 1: General Studies, British Isles, North America: Studies in Honour of Manfred Görlach. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 18.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. 1997b Englishes Around the World, Volume 2: Caribbean, Africa, Asia, Australasia. Studies in Honour of Manfred Görlach. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 19.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Sebba, Mark 1993 London Jamaican: Language Systems in Interaction. (Real Language Series.) London: Longman. 1997 Contact Languages – Pidgins and Creoles. (Modern Linguistics Series.) London: Macmillan. Singh, Ishtla 2000 Pidgins and Creoles – An Introduction. London: Arnold. Singler, John V. (ed.) 1990 Pidgin and Creole Tense-Mood-Aspect Systems. (Creole Language Library 6.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Spears, Arthur K. and Donald Winford (eds.) 1997 The Structure and Status of Pidgins and Creoles. Including Selected Papers from the Meetings of the Society for Pidgin and Creole Linguistics. (Creole Language Library 19.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Spencer, John (ed.) 1971 The English Language in West Africa. (English Language Series.) London: Longman. Thomas, Erik R. 2001 An Acoustic Analysis of Vowel Variation in New World English. (Publication of the American Dialect Society 85.) Durham: Duke University Press. Thomason, Sarah G. 2001 Contact Languages. Edinburgh: University of Edinburgh Press. Thomason, Sarah G. and Terrence Kaufman 1988 Language Contact, Creolization and Genetic Linguistics. Berkeley: University of California Press. Tristram, Hildegard, L.C. (ed.) 1998 The Celtic Englishes. (Anglistische Forschungen 247.) Heidelberg: Winter. 2000 The Celtic Englishes II. (Anglistische Forschungen 286.) Heidelberg: Winter. 2003 The Celtic Englishes III. (Anglistische Forschungen 324.) Heidelberg: Winter. Trudgill, Peter 1974 The Social Differentiation of English in Norwich. (Cambridge Studies in Linguistics 13.) Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1986 Dialects in Contact. (Language in Society 10.) Oxford: Blackwell. 1999 The Dialects of England. 2nd edition. Oxford: Blackwell. also: The Dialects of England. 2nd edition. Oxford: Blackwell. Trudgill, Peter and Jean Hannah 2002 International English: A Guide to Varieties of Standard English. 4th edition. London: Arnold.

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International English: A Guide to Varieties of Standard English. 3rd edition. London: Arnold. 1985 International English: A Guide to Varieties of Standard English. 2nd edition. London: Arnold. 1982 International English: A Guide to Varieties of Standard English. London: Arnold. Trudgill, Peter (ed.) 1978 Sociolinguistic Patterns in British English. London: Arnold. 1984 Language in the British Isles. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Trudgill, Peter and J.K. Chambers (eds.) 1991 Dialects of English: Studies in Grammatical Variation. (Longman Linguistics Library.) London/New York: Longman. Upton, Clive, David Parry and John D.A. Widdowson 1994 Survey of English Dialects: The Dictionary and Grammar. London: Routledge. Viereck, Wolfgang (ed.) 1985 Focus on England and Wales. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 4.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Wakelin, Martyn 1981 English Dialects: An Introduction. London: Athlone Press. Wakelin, Martyn F. (ed.) 1972 Patterns in the Folk Speech of the British Isles. With a Foreword by Harold Orton. London: Athlone Press. Watts, Richard and Peter Trudgill (eds.) 2002 Alternative Histories of English. London: Routledge. Wells, John C. 1982 Accents of English. 3 Volumes. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Williamson, Juanita and Virginia M. Burke (eds.) 1971 A Various Language. Perspectives on American Dialects. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. Winer, Lise 1993 Trinidad and Tobago. (Varieties of English around the World, Text Series 6.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Winford, Donald 1993 Predication in Carribean English Creoles. (Creole Language Library 10.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. 2003 An Introduction to Contact Linguistics. (Language in Society 33.) Malden/ Oxford/Melbourne: Blackwell. Wolfram, Walt 1969 A Sociolinguistic Description of Detroit Negro Speech. (Urban Language Series 5.) Washington, D.C.: Center for Applied Linguistics. Wolfram, Walt and Ralph W. Fasold 1974 The Study of Social Dialects in American English. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall. Wolfram, Walt and Donna Christian 1976 Appalachian Speech. Arlington, VA: Center for Applied Linguistics.

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Wolfram, Walt and Natalie Schilling-Estes 1998 American English: Dialects and Variation. (Language in Society 25.) Malden, MA/Oxford: Blackwell. Wolfram, Walt, Kirk Hazen and Natalie Schilling-Estes 1999 Dialect Change and Maintenance on the Outer Banks. (Publication of the American Dialect Society 81.) Tuscaloosa, AL/London: University of Alabama Press. Wolfram, Walt and Erik R. Thomas 2002 The Development of African American English. (Language in Society 31.) Oxford/Malden, MA: Blackwell. Wright, Joseph 1898 –1905 The English Dialect Dictionary. Oxford: Clarendon Press. 1905 The English Dialect Grammar. Oxford: Frowde.

Introduction: varieties of English in the British Isles Bernd Kortmann and Clive Upton

1.

A note on geopolitical terminology

‘The British Isles’ is a geographical term which refers to the two large islands that contain the mainlands of Scotland, Northern Ireland, the Irish Republic, Wales, and England, together with a large number of other, smaller islands that are part of the territories of these countries: one island (the Isle of Man) and one archipelago (the Channel Islands) have a significant degree of autonomy within the state which encompasses the bulk of the British Isles, the United Kingdom. ‘The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland’ (the UK) is a state that encompasses Scotland, Wales, England, Man, and the Channel Islands, together with the northernmost part of the island of Ireland. If Northern Ireland is omitted entirely from a description, the designation of the area described is properly ‘Great Britain’. ‘Ireland’ properly designates the whole of the island of Ireland (though popularly it is used to refer to the state of Ireland, that is the Republic of Ireland, which occupies the central, southern, and north-western parts).

2.

The coverage of British Isles accents and dialects

Major accent and dialect distinctions in the British Isles section of this Handbook are represented in chapters covering Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Northern England, and Southern England. Other chapters cover the distinctive accents and dialects of somewhat less extensive areas: Orkney and Shetland, the Channel Islands, the eastern England region of East Anglia, and the very major conurbation and administrative area of the English West Midlands. Variation within each of these areas is, of course, discussed in the relevant chapters: in particular, Northern and Southern Irish are distinguished, as is the speech of southwest and southeast England, where major differences apply. It is expected that the reader might concentrate on particular chapters or smaller sections to gain in-depth knowledge of a particular variety or group of closely-related varieties or, especially by referring to the sound charts, to obtain an overview of wider overall variation or of variation relating to specific linguistic variables. Whilst Received Pronunciation (RP) is specifically presented as a supra-regional accent model frequently used in the teaching of English worldwide and for purposes of wide communication, its description plays only a very minor part

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in the analysis of the regional varieties, each of which is described in its own terms rather than in any sense as divergent from an externally-imposed norm. For reasons spelt out in the General Introduction to this Handbook, Standard English grammar is not explicitly discussed as a separate entity.

3.

The concept of the ‘dialect area’

The linguistic varieties of the UK and Ireland presented in this Handbook are discussed along geographical lines. This arrangement by region is convenient in terms of structure, and is helpful to the user who wishes to understand regional differences, or who needs to concentrate on the variety or group of varieties found in one particular region. But it is also potentially misleading, since the impression might be gained that UK and Irish varieties are tidily to be separated from each other, with one being spoken by a fixed, geographically identifiable group of people quite distinct from another group using another quite different set of speech-forms. Nothing could be further from the truth. Far from there being regional cutoff points for ways of speaking, i.e. boundaries where, for example, one accent ceases to be heard and another takes its place, accents and dialects blend subtly and imperceptibly into one another. Rather than the hearer detecting the presence or absence of features as they move about a country or region, particularly at a local level it is a matter of ‘more or less’, of features being heard with greater or lesser frequency as features most characteristic of one region are left behind, to be replaced with greater intensity by others associated with a region being approached. Nor should we think that all speakers in one place use the same set of features with the same level of intensity, if they use them at all. It is to be expected that some speakers, those who sound most local to a particular place, will fairly consistently exhibit a set of features which most closely conform to a characteristic local way of speaking, and it is these which form a central part of the local accent and dialect descriptions given in the chapters that follow. However, very many speakers will not be consistent in their use of these features, being variably more or less regional in different situations or under different social promptings (e.g. the social status of addresser and addressee, and the degree of familiarity between them), even within the same discourse (e.g. depending on the topic). It is important to note immediately that such variation is not random: speakers do not drift between, towards, or away from markedly regional pronunciations on a whim. Rather, it has been shown in numerous studies that such movement patterns correlate with such social phenomena as age, gender, socio-economic status, ethnicity and local affiliations of both speaker and hearer, and can result in short-term, but also longterm, language change.

Introduction: varieties of English in the British Isles

27

The acceptance of the absence of tight boundaries for phonological and grammatical features, and the acknowledgement of speakers in any one place being socially heterogeneous and, moreover, inconsistent in their speech lead to the inevitable conclusion that the concept of the ‘dialect area’ as a fixed, tidy entity is ultimately a myth. In terms of pronunciation, what we are faced with, in place of a certain number of accents, is in reality a continuum: accents shade one into another as individual speakers espouse features drawn from a range of accents to which they have access and that are indicative not just of their regional connections but also of their social needs and aspirations. The same is true for grammatical usage, and for lexical choice.

4.

The distinction between ‘traditional’ and ‘modern’ dialects

Another often-used notion in dialectology we would like to question is the separation of dialects into two distinct categories, the ‘Traditional’ and the ‘Modern’. This artificially tidy categorisation is not only questionable given the fact of constant language change. It is even more debatable in the light of the fact that, as will be explained below, much of our knowledge of recent distributions of dialect features over wide sweeps of territory in the British Isles continues to be based on surveys now considered to have focused on the ‘traditional’, in the sense that their target was the essentially rural speech of comparatively static communities. (No community is ever wholly static or isolated, of course: there will always be incomers and external contacts, however few these might be in particular communities at certain times.) Nevertheless, the bipartite distinction does have some undoubted merit as an idealisation: it reminds us that urbanisation and geographical and social mobility have resulted in some accelerated and often quite dramatic changes in speech in recent years, as is made clear in the following chapters. Perhaps it reminds us, too, that language should be seen in its continuous historical (diachronic) as well as its ‘snapshot-in-time’ (synchronic) dimension, that there was a ‘then’ to contrast with the ‘now’. However, we would be wrong to suppose that there is a straightforward, clear-cut distinction between the way English was spoken in the rural communities of half a century ago and as it is in the towns and cities of today, or that change is happening to language now as it has not happened before. Across time there are periods of comparatively rapid and of slower alteration in speech, but language is constantly changing. (And, indeed, the mechanisms of language change occupy the research attention of very many dialectologists today, just as ascertaining the facts of its progress absorbed the efforts of dialect researchers of previous generations.) Furthermore, since human society is in essence the same as it was in the past, a greater understanding of the facts of and reasons for that change today informs our understanding of developments both in the past and into the future.

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Historical and cultural elements in the formation of British accents

Varieties of English around the world are all derived from one ancestral root-stock (variously called Anglo-Saxon or Old English). In part at least, the distinctive sounds and grammatical properties of each are tied to developments in the history of the language, these sometimes dating back many centuries. It is in the UK and Ireland, and in England in particular, however, that this matter of pedigree is most significant. This fact is unsurprising. English is, after all, at bottom the product of England and southern Scotland, born of a fusion of West Germanic dialects brought from mainland Europe to the islands of Britain in the fifth and sixth centuries AD, and perhaps even earlier. Fusing over the centuries with elements of Celtic, Norse, and French, and subject to sundry other influences as a result of the islands’ complex history of trade and conquest, the language in its homeland has had time and motive both to preserve ancient forms and to fragment to a degree unknown elsewhere in the English-speaking world. Thus, constant echoes of earlier phonology and grammar are to be heard in the British regional varieties discussed in this Handbook. They are very clearly evident where contrasts appear between regional accents and the convenient touchstone accent of RP, which is itself an evolving accent but one which, as a model for pronunciation of British English, does not go back before the nineteenth century. The STRUT/PUT merger of the English North and North Midlands, i.e. the vowel in words like strut and hut being the same as in put, is Anglo-Saxon, for example. So are long monophthongs where RP and some other accents have diphthongs. So too, among many other features, are the ‘Velar Nasal Plus’ feature (as in the pronunciation /sINg/ of sing or /
sINg´/ of singer [Wells 1982: 365]) of the English north-west Midlands, and the rhoticity (i.e. the pronunciation of /r/ following a vowel, as in star or start) characteristic of Scotland, Ireland, south-west England, parts of Lancashire and the Northeast, as too of North America of course. Corresponding grammatical features from earlier periods of English include multiple negation (or negative concord), as in She couldn’t say nothing about them, and personal pronoun forms like thou and thee. The length of time over which English has been evolving in the small area that is the British Isles accounts in large part for the complex variation in its presentday dialects. To this must be added the region’s ethnic and political mix, both now and in the past. There are, of course, two sovereign states represented, the United Kingdom and the Republic of Ireland. The United Kingdom in turn comprises the nations of England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland, and matters of national as well as of narrower regional identity come into play when espousal of features of language are concerned. In the present, Wales especially, and Scotland and Ireland to lesser extents, see the interaction of English with Celtic languages. In the past, this interaction with Celtic has been most influential in the north and west of the region, as has that with Norse in Ireland, in northern Scotland and the Orkney

Introduction: varieties of English in the British Isles

29

and Shetland Isles, and in northwest and eastern England. The economic and political dominance exerted on Britain by London and the southeast of England has also inevitably shaped accents: not itself a regional accent, RP nevertheless has an essentially southeastern phonemic structure and phonetic bias; such processes as the Great Vowel Shift have acted to shape modern phonology more consistently and more completely in the south of England than elsewhere. All of this cultural and historical complexity, as it affects language, is rehearsed in the various chapters that follow, and each in consequence has its own unique perspective.

6.

Dialect surveys

Although they are neither very recent nor focused upon the accents of major centres of population, a small group of major regional dialect surveys are heavily drawn upon in the writing of the following chapters, as they must inevitably be by anyone commenting on variation in the speech of the British Isles. Foremost among these, for England, is the Survey of English Dialects (SED). This essentially rural survey from the mid-twentieth century continues to be drawn upon for information because of its detailed coverage, its reliability (given the constraints under which it operated) and the accessibility of its information: it is fair to say that no reliable statements can be made about the widespread distribution of linguistic features within England without reference to its findings, since there exists no more recent country-wide comprehensive evidence. The SED is paralleled by its contemporary in Scotland, the Linguistic Survey of Scotland, in Wales by the Survey of Anglo-Welsh Dialects, and in Ireland by the Tape-recorded Survey of Hiberno-English Speech. The last two surveys were in some large measure directly inspired by the SED, under whose founder, Harold Orton, some of their founderworkers had trained. Recently, however, whilst there have been some comparatively large-scale efforts at data-gathering (see especially the Survey of British Dialect Grammar [Cheshire/ Edwards/Whittle 1993], the Freiburg English Dialect Corpus [Kortmann 2003, Kortmann and Wagner 2005], and the Sound Atlas of Irish English [Hickey 2005 and this volume]), the reader will notice that, with the notable exception of the latter, even these have not been on the scale of earlier surveys. This has not, however, been accidental or the result of academic indolence on the part of the linguistic community. Rather, recent concentration on social variation in speech, in order to better understand the mechanisms of language change, has resulted in focus being on small(er) areas and fewer locations in which diverse populations can be studied in close detail: the wide sweeps of variation that were the object of earlier research do not speak to the considerations of motivation for language use, and for language variation, which are a preoccupation of today’s dialectologists. (In this regard, there have been a number of recent seminal works which have been drawn upon in the

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present volume, such as Foulkes and Docherty’s Urban Voices [1999] and Milroy and Milroy’s Real English [1993].) Beyond the larger survey materials, therefore, the authors have drawn upon a wide range of materials which result from their own and others’ intensive study of the localised speech of their respective areas.

7.

The chapters on phonology

Melchers’ focus is on distinctions between the phonology of Orkney (“Orcadian”) and Shetland, and also between their divergence from and correspondence to the accents of mainland Scotland. Amongst those accents, Stuart-Smith identifies a continuum corresponding to a phonological range available to very many in Scotland, whose speech ranges seamlessly between Scottish Standard English and Scots: as regards the latter, on grounds of population density and the existence of detailed research data, she concentrates on the Urban Scots of the ‘Central Belt’ around Edinburgh and (especially) Glasgow. In a chapter which, concerning its northern data, relates very closely to that of Scotland, Hickey describes a complex of accents in which a north-south split provides a basic structure. He identifies a supraregional Southern accent and three regional southern varieties, distinguishing these from Northern varieties. He includes discussion of the complex terminology associated with northern variation, and three urban accents, those of Dublin, Belfast, and Derry. As Hickey’s chapter treats the admixture of English, Irish and Scots influences on the Irish English accents, so Penhallurick’s is concerned with the interface of English and Welsh in the phonology of Wales. Welsh sounds in English, the effects of long-established cultural links with the English Midlands and Southwest, and the existence of English as a Foreign Language for Welsh speakers are shown to be factors in the creation of the Principality’s distinctive English accents. Directly across the border from Wales, Clark’s West Midlands is the second largest conurbation of England and the UK, home to the two distinct if closely-related accents of Birmingham and the Black Country. Concentration in this chapter is on the Black Country on the one hand and on the wider West Midland conurbation on the other, with the various accents discussed as both distinctive and as collectively a Northern English variety. In a discussion of the Northern accents of England proper, Beal identifies pan-northern accent features, whilst pointing also to more locally distinctive characteristics, most especially though not exclusively those of the Northeast (‘Geordie’) and Liverpool (‘Scouse’). Altendorf and Watt, in their chapter on the phonology of southern England, divide their area firmly into east and west (the non-rhotic and rhotic areas respectively), and describe the distinctive characteristics of the accents of these areas quite separately. Whilst they regard East Anglia as part of the South they do not venture specifically into this region: features of the East Anglian accents, and their relation to those of surrounding areas to the south, west, and north, are the subject of Trudgill’s chapter.

Introduction: varieties of English in the British Isles

31

Concluding the chapters which deal with the accents associated with specific geographical regions, Ramisch concentrates on the Channel Islands, where interaction with Channel Island (Norman) French and mainland immigrant English have both had an impact on distinctively local English pronunciation. Descriptions of two non-regional accents round off the discussion of accents of the British Isles. The first is that of British Creole, an ethnic variety which, in Patrick’s words, ‘is the product of dialect contact between West Indian migrants … and vernacular varieties of urban English’. The second is Received Pronunciation (authored by Upton), an accent that is in essence unmarked for place and so attracts none of the (sometimes adverse) social judgements which regional accents attract, and that is, in consequence, frequently used in broadcasting and as a language-teaching model.

8.

The chapters on morphology and syntax

With the exception of the West Midlands and the Channel Islands, all regional and ethnic (British Creole) varieties in the British Isles discussed in the phonology volume of this Handbook have a companion chapter in the morphosyntax volume. In all morphosyntax chapters the features described are distinctive of the relevant varieties, but in the vast majority of cases not to be understood as unique to these varieties (cf. also the General Introduction to this Handbook). Another property the majority of these chapters share is that they provide qualitative, only exceptionally quantitative, accounts based on large digitized and/or computerized corpora of spontaneous non-standard present-day speech. The first two chapters complement each other. The one by Melchers on Orkney and Shetland is geared towards highlighting morphosyntactic features which are distinctive of the Northern Isles especially due to their Scandinavian substratum. The Scandinavian features are particularly pronounced at the Broad Scots end of the dialect continuum. Especially for the Central Lowlands (Edinburgh and East Lothian), this is also the focus of Miller’s chapter on Scottish English. Southern Irish English, but also varieties of Ulster and Ulster Scots stand at the centre of Filppula’s chapter on Irish English. Especially the morphosyntax of Irish English varieties shows an interesting mix of features which, due to one or a combination of the following four factors, have affected the development of Irish English: retention of features from earlier periods of English, dialect contact with other varieties spoken in the British Isles, substratal influence from the indigenous Celtic language (Irish), and universal features we associate with varieties resulting from rapid, large-scale second-language acquisition. The second and third of these features also figure prominently in Penhallurick’s account of the morphosyntax of Welsh English: the influences of Welsh, and of the regional dialects spoken in the neighbouring counties of England.

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Bernd Kortmann and Clive Upton

Beal provides a survey of features found in the grammars of varieties spoken in the North of England, the vast majority of which are restricted to particular regions or cities. This variation in the morphology and syntax reflects the diverse histories of the different parts and urban centres of the North: in the far north, the shared history with Scotland and the continuing migration from central Scotland to Tyneside; the large-scale medieval Scandinavian settlements in an area stretching from the Northwest (Cumbria) south-east down to East Anglia, the so-called “Scandinavian belt” (including, for example, all of Yorkshire); in the large cities like Liverpool, Newcastle, and Manchester, high Irish immigration since the 19th century. Three chapters are concerned with the morphology and syntax of non-standard varieties spoken in the southern parts of England. Trudgill deals with East Anglia, Wagner with the Southwest (traditionally known as the West Country), and Anderwald with the Southeast (London and the neighbouring counties, the so-called Home Counties). East Anglia and the Southwest have been well-established dialect areas since medieval times, especially the Southwest still boasting not only a unique mix of morphosyntactic features but also individual morphosyntactic properties which are truly unique to this area. The Southeast, by contrast, is a relatively young and, at least with regard to grammar, surprisingly underresearched area in modern dialect research. Here most morphosyntactic features seem to be representative of non-standard speech in present-day England in general. Anderwald’s survey is based, among other things, on quantitative analyses of the British National Corpus (BNC), the Bergen Corpus of London Teenage Language (COLT) and the Freiburg English Dialect Corpus (FRED), and provides a solid basis for studies wanting to explore the extent to which the Southeast may be responsible for the (partly ongoing) spread of the relevant morphosyntactic features in the British Isles. The chapter on the Southeast is also useful background reading against which to judge Sebba’s observations on British Creole, since the conversational data Sebba has analyzed are all taken from British-born Caribbean adolescents living in London. This contact variety displays a fascinating degree of syntactic variability which cannot be explained by a continuum model, as known from pidgin and creole studies, alone. What additionally needs to be factored in is, for example, the existence of (especially Jamaican) creole- and standard-like variants for many linguistic forms, and the fact that (for a variety of reasons) speakers often mix Creole and English English forms. References Cheshire, Jenny, Viv Edwards and Pamela Whittle 1993 Non-standard English and dialect levelling. In: Milroy and Milroy (eds.), 53–96. Foulkes, Paul and Gerard Docherty (eds.) 1999 Urban Voices: Accent Studies in the British Isles. London: Arnold.

Introduction: varieties of English in the British Isles

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Hickey, Raymond 2005 A Sound Atlas of Irish English. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Kortmann, Bernd 2003 Comparative English dialect grammar: A typological approach. In: Ignacio M. Palacios, María José López Couso, Patricia Fra and Elena Seoane (eds.), Fifty Years of English Studies in Spain (1952:2002). A Commemorative Volume, 65–83. Santiago de Compostela: University of Santiago. Kortmann, Bernd and Susanne Wagner 2005 The Freiburg English Dialect Project and Corpus. In: Bernd Kortmann, Tanja Herrmann, Lukas Pietsch and Susanne Wagner, A Comparative Grammar of British English Dialects: Agreement, Gender, Relative Clauses. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Milroy, John and Lesley Milroy (eds.) 1993 Real English. The Grammar of English Dialects in the British Isles. London/ New York: Longman. Orton, Harold (ed.) 1962–1971 Survey of English Dialects: The Basic Material. 4 vols. Leeds: E.J. Arnold.

English spoken in Orkney and Shetland: phonology Gunnel Melchers

1.

General background

Orkney and Shetland, known as “the Northern Isles”, are indeed the most northerly units of land in the British Isles. The lighthouse of Muckle Flugga, at a latitude of 61º, is the northernmost point of Shetland as well as of the whole of Britain, and Orkney is as far north as Bristol Bay in Alaska. Lerwick, the capital of Shetland, is equidistant from Aberdeen in Scotland, Bergen in Norway, and Tórshavn in the Faroe Islands. The Shetland archipelago has a total area of 1,468 sq. km (to be compared with Orkney’s 976 sq. km) and consists of well over 100 islands, 15 of which are inhabited. In Shetland as well as Orkney the largest island is simply known as Mainland. Otherwise the names of the islands in both archipelagos can all be traced back to Norn, the Scandinavian variety once spoken in the area, e.g. Whalsay and Foula in Shetland, Westray and Egilsay in Orkney. There are many similarities between Orkney and Shetland with regard to topography, history, population structure, culture and language but also some characteristic differences. Arable land, for example, amounts to a mere 3% of the total area in Shetland, whereas it is almost 40% in Orkney. It used to be said that the typical Shetlander is a fisherman who occasionally does a bit of farming, while the Orkneyman is a farmer who occasionally devotes himself to fishing. Other differences have to do with the fact that Orkney is much closer to the Scottish mainland (the southernmost point of South Ronaldsay is only about a mile north of Caithness). This is, among other things, reflected in language in that the Orkney dialect is less distinct from mainland Scots/Scottish English. In spite of their peripheral location, Orkney and Shetland should not be seen as isolated communities, neither in the past nor today. The islands have always been at the crossroads of shipping and trade, and have been subjected to different kinds of immigration and impulses from various peoples: the Norse settlers first arriving in the 9th century, the Scots gradually taking over from the early Middle Ages onwards, and the Dutch and German tradesmen in the Hansa period. The Northern Isles today are modern British societies, with excellent educational establishments and a highly developed infrastructure. While traditional local industries live on, such as the production of cheese and whisky in Orkney, yarn and knitwear in Shetland, the last few decades have seen major changes in population growth, oc-

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cupation and life styles as a result of the activities related to North Sea oil. The real boom took place in the 1970s in connection with the construction work, but the population level is fairly stable and there is less unemployment than in Scotland as a whole. Shetland now has a population of about 23,000 (to be compared with 17,000 in the mid-sixties) and Orkney about 20,000. Considering social stratification, Shetland and Orkney make the impression of being more egalitarian than most other regions in Britain. Erving Goffman, the renowned American social anthropologist, who did fieldwork for his Ph.D. thesis as a “participant observer” on Unst, Shetland’s northernmost island, was impressed by the general classlessness of the society. More than half of the working population work in services; the second largest category is self-employed, which could stand for running a spinning mill as well as home-based knitting. It is not uncommon for an individual to be employed in widely different spheres, as in the case of a Fair Islander who until recently (1) ran the local post office, (2) was a member of the crew of “The Good Shepherd” connecting Fair Isle with Shetland Mainland, (3) was the local butcher, (4) taught traditional fiddle music at the school, and (5) looked after hundreds of sheep. With regard to gender as a sociolinguistic factor, results from recent linguistic work suggest that it is not significant either. Orten (1991: 65) reports similar observations from Orkney. In the 10th century Orkney and Shetland were invaded and settled by Vikings, probably coming from South West Norway, as described in the Orkneyinga Saga, Landnámabok and Historia Norvegiae. It is claimed that they defeated the Picts, who are believed to have been the indigenous inhabitants of the area but have left few traces. It is no coincidence that the name of the Icelandic saga documenting the early history of the Northern Isles is derived from Orkney – that is where the heart of the Viking earldom lay and other Scandinavian settlements such as Shetland and Caithness were seen from an Orkney perspective. Orkney and Shetland remained all-Scandinavian, with a native language variety known as Norn, the first Germanic language to be spoken on the islands, until well into the 14th century, when the Scots began to come in, making the Scottish element in the joint earldom the dominant cultural influence extending northwards into the islands. In 1379 a Scotsman was appointed Earl of Orkney, which included the sovereignty of Shetland, and about a century later the islands became part of Scotland. A serious plea for reunion with Norway was put forward as late as 1905, in connection with the Sweden-Norway separation, but the islands have remained under Scottish and British rule. It should be pointed out, however, that the links with Scandinavia, especially Norway, were never broken, as so remarkably demonstrated through the support given to the Norwegian resistance movement during World War II (“the Shetland Bus”). The Scandinavian heritage is an integral part of Orkney and Shetland identity.

English spoken in Orkney and Shetland: phonology

2.

37

The linguistic background

Norn was the dominant language in Orkney and Shetland for at least 500 years, but a natural consequence of the political changes beginning in the late Middle Ages was a gradual shift from Norn to Scots. Owing to the scarcity of written sources we have neither a complete documentation of the structure of the Norn language nor of the rate and character of the process of change. There is an ongoing, heated debate considering the actual demise of Norn (Barnes vs. Rendboe), where a group of “Nornomaniacs” (cf. Waugh 1996) argue that it lived on at least until the end of the 19th century in Shetland. What real evidence there is, however, suggests that in both Orkney and Shetland it died out no later than the second half of the 18th century. Today, the traditional dialects as spoken in the Northern Isles must be described as varieties of Scots, yet with a substantial component of Scandinavian, manifested above all in the lexicon but also in phonology and, to a lesser extent, in grammar. These varieties are often referred to as “Insular Scots”, recognized as one of the four main dialect divisions of Lowland Scots (cf. Grant and Murison 1931–1976; Johnston 1997). Orkney and Shetland can be characterized as bidialectal speech communities with access to a choice of two discrete, definable forms of speech: one a form of standard, basically Standard Scottish English, and the other what Wells (1982) calls traditional-dialect. Orcadians and Shetlanders are generally aware of commanding two distinct varieties and they have names for these, e.g. “English” vs. “Shetland” or “Orcadian”. Admittedly, age-related differences have been observed: on the one hand young people are losing some of the traditional-dialect indexicals, on the other they often state explicitly that they do not wish to adapt to outsiders and tend to be scathing about islanders who do. It would, however, be difficult to find truly monolingual speakers of the traditional dialect today. As some of the recordings will reveal, the “either-or” scenario is probably not quite categorical, especially not with regard to phonology. In fact, there may well be something of a continuum, where certain traditional-dialect features are stable, such as the palatalization of dental plosives, whereas others vary with the speaker, the situation, and the topic, such as th-stopping. The following account of Orkney and Shetland phonology is not restricted to one end of the continuum and includes some observations on the considerable regional variation found in the Northern Isles. The presentation should be viewed as a complement to the full-length description of Scots/Scottish English in this volume (cf. the contributions by Stuart-Smith, this volume, and Miller, other volume); in other words, it focuses on features where Orkney and Shetland accents differ from other accents in Scotland.

38 3.

Gunnel Melchers

Research and data

There exists as yet no definitive description of the present-day phonology of the Northern Isles. A number of young scholars, however, are currently researching topics such as the Shetland vowel system, aspects of quantity in Orkney and Shetland speech, and dialect levelling in young speakers. The final results from this research, which tends to focus on realizations of Standard (Scottish) English rather than traditional dialect, are unfortunately not yet available at the time of writing this text. The only existing full-length work on Orkney dialect as spoken in the 20th century is Marwick’s The Orkney Norn (1929). Confusingly, Marwick uses the term Norn both for the all-Scandinavian language once spoken on the islands and for contemporary Orkney dialect. His work is mainly a dictionary of the dialect but with a brief introduction to grammar and phonology and with phonetic transcriptions of all headwords. As the title suggests, it has a marked Scandinavian and historical bias, particularly apparent in the phonology, which takes the Old Norse sound system as its starting-point, simply listing its modern reflections in Orkney. Although contemporary evidence suggests that Marwick’s data are characterized by a touch of “Nornomania” and that he had preconceived notions of “correct” answers from his informants, his work is clearly of great importance for the present study. As a phonetician he seems very competent, and fairly narrow distinctions, such as [o] vs. [ç] have been noted in individual entries. Shetland dialect as spoken at the end of the 19th century was carefully documented in the Faroese scholar Jakob Jakobsen’s monumental An Etymological Dictionary of the Norn Language in Shetland (1928–1932). As the title suggests, it, too, has a clear Scandinavian bias but provides information about the language variety as a whole, including phonology (pre-structural, naturally). Jakobsen, who was a trained philologist in the German school, notes very fine distinctions indeed, to the degree that he has been accused of practising “phonetics run riot” (cf. Waugh 1996: 6). Some of his headwords have up to twenty-five different realizations, but there is no indication of a systematic account of vowels and consonants. This does not mean that he should be ignored in a study of Shetland phonology. The phonological section of The Linguistic Survey of Scotland (LSS) (cf. Mather and Speitel 1986), which above all was designed to elicit vowel systems, included a number of localities in the Northern Isles (thirteen in Orkney, ten in Shetland). John C. Catford, who was instrumental in setting up the survey, took the view that Shetland phonology was unique among Scottish accents in its rich vowel system, palatalization of final /d/, /n/, and /l/, certain consonant mergers and characteristic syllable structure. Before the actual launching of the LSS, Catford found it necessary to do some pilot fieldwork in Shetland, “a phonological reconnaissance”, which resulted in a special Shetland section in the questionnaire, e.g. eliciting Scandinavian-based words expected to be realized with [ø], such as brööl ‘moo’. There was no similar highlighting of Orkney. Catford (1957: 75) assesses Shetland

English spoken in Orkney and Shetland: phonology

39

dialect in general as having a “somewhat archaic character”, suggesting that its vowel system may be similar to Scots as spoken in the metropolitan area of Scotland in the 16th–17th centuries. Interestingly, aspects of Shetland verbal usage can also be characterized as archaic (cf. Melchers, other volume). A recent excellent study of Insular Scots, i.e. Orcadian and ‘Shetlandic’, based on data from LSS and considering Catford’s preliminary analyses of vowel systems, can be extracted from Paul Johnston’s chapter on regional variation for the Edinburgh History of the Scots Language (Johnston 1997). The only existing account of a particular Insular Scots accent is Elise Orten’s The Kirkwall Accent (Orten 1991), an M.A. thesis submitted at the University of Bergen, claiming to be “based on the London School of phonology”, but not making use of the Wells lexical sets. An interesting source of information is John Tait’s article on Shetland vowels (Tait 2000). Tait, a native Shetlander, first began taking an interest in Shetland phonology for the purpose of creating a workable writing system. He takes a critical view of the LSS material and introduces the concept of “soft mutation”, i.e. the raising of certain vowels before certain consonants, which “provides, along with vowel length, a framework for looking at Shetlandic vowel phonology as a whole” (Tait 2000: 88; cf. section 4.1. below). With the help of instrumental analysis, van Leyden (2002) has investigated vowel and consonant duration in Orkney and Shetland dialects, taking Catford’s impressionistic observations as her starting-point. Whereas her Shetland data suggested a Scandinavian-like pattern, Orkney showed more affinity with Standard Scottish English. In addition to the research described above, this presentation draws on material collected for a project entitled The Scandinavian Element in Shetland Dialect, directed by the present writer. The material consists of tape-recordings eliciting phonological as well as lexical and attitudinal aspects. In addition, a great deal of material recorded for the purpose of oral history has been placed at my disposal by the Orkney and Shetland Archives. This is particularly useful since the interviewers are mostly dialect speakers themselves, which means that the informants do not tend to adapt their language. For the purpose of this publication, recordings were made in Shetland and Orkney during the summer of 2002. Regrettably, however, the presentation will still have a marked “Shetland bias”, since considerably more data and information is available on the most northerly part of the Insular Scots region.

4.

Orkney and Shetland phonology

With the exception of the table showing the realizations of lexical sets, this presentation is not explicitly organized according to region; in other words, there are

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no specific Orkney and Shetland sections but the two speech communities are discussed jointly in connections with the various phonetic and phonological issues. Any known differences are of course indicated. Orkney and Shetland may be small speech communities, but they are both characterized by considerable regional variation, not least evident from the LSS data. In his introduction, Jakobsen (1928–1932) claims that there are nine main dialect areas in Shetland, which, in turn, consist of several sub-areas; Fetlar, for example, which has an area of 39 sq. kilometres, is said to have several dialects, without further specification. In my opinion, such claims must be taken with a pinch of salt and may simply reflect idiosyncrasies. The local accents mostly singled out as “deviant” by Shetlanders today are spoken in Whalsay and Out Skerries, two close-knit fishing communities east of Shetland Mainland. This view is corroborated by linguistic research, including my own fieldwork. Surprisingly, these particular localities were not investigated by LSS although they are mentioned in Catford’s pilot study (Catford 1957). In Orkney, the northernmost islands (Westray and North Ronaldsay) are held to be different, showing for example traces of palatalized consonants as regularly found in Shetland. Some established regional variation is accounted for here, e.g. the front-back variation of PALM and START and the realization of initial as [] or [kw], but the bulk of the data refers to Orkney and Shetland accents in general, as commonly heard in the “capitals”, Kirkwall and Lerwick. 4.1.

Phonological systems

A traditional phonological inventory of Shetland and Orkney vowels will, naturally, categorize them as Scots/Scottish English (cf. Stuart-Smith, this volume). In his pilot study for the LSS, Catford (1957) argues that most accents in Shetland (along with Angus and parts of Perthshire and Kincardineshire, which is plausible from a demographic point of view) display the maximal Scots vowel system of twelve monophthongs and at least two diphthongs. The twelve-vowel system typically makes a distinction between e.g. bread and bred, sale and sell, where the latter in the pair is considerably more open. Johnston, who is alone in having made a phonemic inventory of the LSS data, does not dispute Catford’s claims, but draws attention to a series of changes in Shetland and Orkney accents that he calls “the Insular Clockwise Vowel Shift, from the direction in which the nuclei move from the point of view of a conventional vowel chart” (Johnston 1997: 449). This shift implies that Older Scots /a/ is reflected as [æ], // as [e] or [ei], // as [a ~ æ], /ç/ and /ç˘/ to [] or []. Further information from Johnston’s detailed inventory is included in the presentation of lexical sets below. Tait (2000), also a discussion of LSS data and to some extent a critique of Johnston’s analysis, emphasizes the importance of “soft mutation” (his own term),

English spoken in Orkney and Shetland: phonology

41

by which he means qualitative changes in a number of Shetland vowels before certain consonants, predictable according to phonetic environment. He refers to allophones occurring typically before voiceless consonants as “hard” and those which occur typically before voiced consonants as “soft”. The BATH vowel, for example, is raised from /a/ to /æ/ before /d/. Tait views these systematic changes, in part, as an alternative and an addition to the concept of a clockwise vowel shift. He summarizes his analysis in a vowel table, which lists as many as fifteen contrastive vowel phonemes, six of which have length as “potentially contrastive”. Tait’s interesting vowel analysis is further considered in the presentation of lexical sets. In her traditional study of Orkney phonology, Orten (1991) identifies twelve vowel phonemes in the accent of her main informant: nine monophthongs and three diphthongs, viz. /i/, //, /e/, //, /a/, /ç/, /o/, /u/, /√/, /a/, /au/, /ç/. A general finding by Orten is that the Kirkwall accent is heavily influenced by Standard Scottish English (StScE). No attempt is made here to identify the number of contrastive vowel phonemes in Shetland or Orkney, however. As should be apparent from the above, such an inventory is very problematic, among other things for the following reasons: – the wide span of the available speech continuum, from StScE to broad, traditional dialect on a Norse substratum; – the considerable regional variation within the island communities; – the striking effect of the phonetic environment as demonstrated by Tait In connection with the last-mentioned point, a further complication is of course the effects of the Scottish Vowel Length Rule (SVLR). This rule is described in the main chapter on Scottish English (see Stuart-Smith, this volume). As shown by van Leyden (2002), the SVLR is fairly strictly applied in Shetland dialect today, but less so in Orkney, which she ascribes to the influence of “Standard English”. The main research question for van Leyden, however, was to test the claim first made by Catford (cf. section 3) that Shetland dialect retains a Scandinavian-like syllable structure, in that stressed monosyllables, when closed by a consonant, contain either a short vowel followed by a long consonant (VC:), as in back [bak], or a long vowel followed by a short consonant (V:C), as in baulk [bak]. The results of the study, relying on instrumental analysis, basically confirmed this claim, also showing that it was particularly valid for traditional-dialect lexical items. The Orkney data, however, show that there “this particular relic of Norn has apparently been lost because of the strong influence of mainland Scots dialects” (van Leyden 2002: 15). Catford (1957: 73) points out that most of the Scandinavian-based features in Shetland phonology have to do with consonants. He ascribes it to the fact that the Norn speakers “had a smaller ‘repertoire’ of consonants than the incomers, and failed to acquire some of the essential consonantal distinctions of Scots”. In addition to the existence of long consonants (geminates), there are, indeed, other interesting systematic characteristics. In Shetland as well as Orkney (though not mentioned in

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Orten 1991), there is a categorical palato-alveolar affricate merger to the effect that a word pair such as gin and chin is homophonous, realized as /tn/. Another feature affecting the phonemic inventory is th-stopping, occasionally found in Orkney dialect, but categorical in Shetland accents, unless adapted to outsiders, i.e. towards the StScE end of the continuum. The familiar form of address, for example, is represented as thu or thoo in Orkney dialect writing, but as du in Shetland. Th-stopping has also taken place in mainland Scandinavia, but after the end of Viking rule in the Northern Isles. Hence it might be due to an independent innovation and/or to the never-ceasing close contact with Norway. The realization of initial as in wheel and as in knee also deserves mention in this context. In Shetland, initial is usually [], but in some regions, notably the west side of Shetland mainland, the outlying islands of Foula and Papa Stour and some pockets on the east side, it is realized as [kw], even in lexical items such as whisky and whole. Hypercorrections are common in these accents, e.g. [hwin] for queen. Similar realizations are believed to have existed in Orkney, but there is no evidence in present-day speech (Marwick 1929). Initial /kn/ clusters are recessive in Shetland, but can still be heard in the speech of some older speakers realized as a voiceless velar nasal followed by [n]. A better-known variant, very lexically restricted, is characterized by enforced articulation of [k], sometimes followed by an epenthetic vowel. In dialect writing, this variant is often represented as k-n as in k-nee. This pronunciation is something of a stereotype and is particularly well known from an old phrase, denoting the simple Shetland fare in the old days, kale and knockit corn, where the force of alliteration obviously plays a part as well. In Orkney, retroflex, “Scandinavian-like” realizations of /r/ + /s/ as [ ] in final position are the rule rather than the exception, i.e. in words such as force, nurse, incomers, tours. 4.2.

Vowels

4.2.1. Lexical sets Variation in quantity is not indicated in the following table.

KIT DRESS TRAP LOT STRUT FOOT BATH

Orkney

Shetland

 ~ ï ~ ë ~ 

 a ç  ~ ç ~u a

ï ~ ë ~  ~ F  a ç~

ç ~ ~  u a~

English spoken in Orkney and Shetland: phonology

CLOTH NURSE FLEECE FACE PALM THOUGHT GOAT GOAL GOOSE PRICE CHOICE MOUTH NEAR SQUARE START NORTH FORCE CURE HAPPY LETTER HORSES COMMA

Orkney

Shetland

ç ç

i e  ç ~  ç o~ç u~u a ~  ç  ~ u i e~ ~a ~ç ç u i   ~a

ç~ ç ~ ç

i e ~ e a ~ ç o o u~ø a ~  ç  ~ u i e~ a~ ~ç ç~o u i e  å

43

4.2.2. Further comments relating to the lexical sets KIT

This vowel is always short, but displays considerable qualitative variation, most of which is not exclusive to Insular Scots. The last allophone in the Shetland column is, however. It is found before labials and velars. A piece of evidence of its use before the velar nasal is the following cross-dialectal miscomprehension as experienced in a Shetland knitting course by the present writer: The local teacher asked one of the participants, a lady from Lancashire working on a pair of gloves, whether she had trouble with her fingers, which was perceived as fungus. DRESS

is usually half-long and often fully-long. Before /d/ and /n/ which are dental in Shetland, it is commonly realized as an upgliding vowel []. This is probably

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what some lay observers have in mind when they talk about “palatalized” consonants. TRAP

There are raised variants in Fair Isle and some Orcadian accents. Before certain consonants, on the other hand, notably the cluster /nd/, the realization is generally [], so-called HAND darkening (Johnston 1997: 485). STRUT

tends to be rounded, especially in Shetland. NURSE

As in Scots generally, there is no NURSE merger. PALM AND START

vary regionally. The use of a back vowel may signal locality as well as influence from Standard varieties. GOOSE

In traditional Shetland dialect, a great number of words in this set have an [ø] vowel. It is popularly believed to be a preserved Norn feature, and is indeed typically found in Scandinavian-based vocabulary, such as tröni ‘pig’s snout’, and löf ‘palm of the hand’, but also in more modern words, such as curious, poor (with a lowered variant [œ] before the /r/). The use of these vowels is recessive. PRICE

varies according to phonetic environment in quality (cf. the table) as well as quantity. MOUTH

varies along the dialect continuum, i.e. the monophthong is a regular feature of the traditional dialects. SQUARE

is very distinctive in Fair Isle and Whalsay, realized as [ç]. NORTH AND FORCE

are clearly distinctive in the speech of many Shetlanders and Orcadians.

English spoken in Orkney and Shetland: phonology

4.3.

45

Consonants – some additional remarks

Consonants that are alveolar in English English, e.g. /d/, /t/, /n/, are generally dental in Shetland accents and //, too, is fronted. /l/ is clear. In fact, the articulatory setting in Shetland speech is generally fronted, as shown by some palatograms made for the project investigating the Scandinavian element in Shetland dialect (cf. section 3 above). In restricted areas (Whalsay and Out Skerries in Shetland, North Ronaldsay in Orkney), /k/ and /g/ before front vowels are palatalized/affricated: cake [tek], skerries [
strs]. During my fieldwork in Whalsay in the early 1980s, a lady told me that unless her grandchildren pronounced cake in the proper “Whalsa” way, they would not get a piece! Some recent data collections suggest that this feature is now recessive. 4.4.

A note on prosody

Neither Shetland nor Orkney intonation has been researched. It is popularly believed that the accents have a Scandinavian ring about them. Yet, impressionistically, there seems to be nothing remarkable about the Shetland tone of voice. A difference between Shetland and Orkney, however, is the unmistakable intonation of the latter. It is often held to be Scandinavian in character, but seems, in fact, to be more similar to Welsh English. Orcadians themselves confirm that they are often taken for Welshmen. Yet the romantic (“Nornomaniac”?) view lives on, as the following quote by the Orcadian poet Edwin Muir nicely illustrates: The men spoke for the most part in a slow deliberate voice, but some of the women could rattle on at a great rate in the soft sing-song lilt of the islands, which has remained unchanged for a thousand years.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Catford, John C. 1957 Shetland Dialect. Shetland Folk Book 3: 71–76. Grant, William and David Murison (eds.) 1931–1976 The Scottish National Dictionary, 10 Volumes. Edinburgh: Scottish National Dictionary Association. Jakobsen, Jakob

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1928–32 An Etymological Dictionary of the Norn Language in Shetland, 2 Volumes. Copenhagen: Vilhelm Prior. Johnston, Paul 1997 Regional Variation. In: Jones (ed.), 433–513. Marwick, Hugh 1929 The Orkney Norn. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Mather, James Y. and Hans H. Speitel (eds.) 1986 The Linguistic Atlas of Scotland. Scots Section, Volume III: Phonology. London: Croom Helm. Orten, Elise 1991 The Kirkwall accent. M.A. thesis, Department of English, University of Bergen. Tait, John M. 2000 Some characteristics of the Shetlandic vowel system. Scottish Language 19: 83–99. van Leyden, Klaske 2002 The relationship between vowel and consonant duration in Orkney and Shetland dialects. Phonetica 59: 1–19. Waugh, Doreen J. (ed.) 1996 Shetland’s Northern Links. Language and History. Edinburgh: Scottish Society for Northern Studies.

Scottish English: phonology* Jane Stuart-Smith

1.

Introduction

Defining the term ‘Scottish English’ is difficult. There is considerable debate about the position and appropriate terminology for the varieties which are spoken in Scotland and which ultimately share a common historical derivation from Old English. Here I follow Aitken (e.g. 1979, 1984) and describe Scottish English as a bipolar linguistic continuum, with broad Scots at one end and Scottish Standard English at the other. Scots is generally, but not always, spoken by the working classes, while Scottish Standard English is typical of educated middle class speakers. Following Aitken’s model, speakers of Scottish English either switch discretely between points on the continuum (style/dialect-switching), which is more common in rural varieties, or drift up and down the continuum (style/dialect-drifting), which is more characteristic of the urban dialects of cities such as Edinburgh and Glasgow. Throughout Scotland, Scots is increasingly becoming limited to certain domains, for example, amongst family and friends, while more formal occasions tend to invoke Scottish Standard English. Of course the boundaries between Scots and Scottish Standard English, and English English, spoken by a small percentage of the population, are not discrete, but fuzzy and overlapping. Scottish Standard English, taken here as Standard English spoken with a Scottish accent, is a possible variety for many speakers across Scotland, depending on social context. There are only slight regional differences in Scottish Standard English across the country. Scots is also widely available to speakers in the appropriate context. The Scottish National Dictionary recognizes four main dialect divisions of Scots whose names reflect their geographical distribution across Scotland: Mid or Central Scots, Southern or Border Scots, Northern Scots, and Insular Scots. Alongside spoken Scots, there also exists a literary variety, Lallans (literally ‘Lowlands’), but this is rarely spoken and thus not discussed here. Northern Scots, particularly the variety spoken in the North East, is often called the Doric. Urban Scots spoken in the cities of Glasgow and Edinburgh and across the Central Belt, is historically derived from forms of Central Scots. The Scottish English continuum is the result of dialect contact and language change over many centuries. A brief account follows (for more details, see for example Jones 1997; Corbett, McClure, and Stuart-Smith 2003). Before the Anglian invasions during the seventh century AD, Scotland was predominately

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Celtic-speaking. The invaders introduced a northern variety of Anglo-Saxon (‘Anglian’) into south-east Scotland. A century and a half later, the southern borders of Scotland were invaded again by the Vikings, who also separately reached the far north of the country. At the time of the Norman Conquest, most people in Scotland spoke a form of Celtic. Anglian was spoken in the south-east, and Norse was used in the far north and possibly in the western borders. Political developments in England and Scotland during the twelfth century led to an influx of northern English speakers into Scotland. The twelfth to the fourteenth centuries saw the gradual development of a particular variety of English in Lowland Scotland which we recognize as Scots, but which was known as ‘Inglis’ (Gaelic was called ‘Erse’ or ‘Irish’). By the fifteenth century Scots was noted as distinct from contemporary forms of southern English English. Despite the early Anglian settlement, the main historical basis of Scots was probably the language of northern English settlers from 1100 onwards, which was considerably influenced by Norse after the long period of Scandinavian occupation of the north of England. Prolonged contact with Norman French also contributed to its distinct character. Before the first large-scale literary work in Scots, Barbour’s Brus (1375), preliterary Scots is only scantily attested, e.g. in place names and glosses. In 1398 the Scottish Parliament moved from Latin to Scots as the language of record, and until the Union of the Crowns (1603), Scots flourished as a literary and spoken language. Thereafter, with increasing English influence, particularly after the Act of Union of the English and Scottish parliaments in 1707, the use of literary Scots declined beyond specific literary genres (e.g. comedy, satire) and gave way to Standard Southern English, which is today the written standard. The eighteenth century also saw the development of Scottish Standard English in the emergence of a variety of Standard English spoken with a refined Scottish accent, typically by the middle classes whose reference for prestige were Southern English accents of England. While literary Scots declined, spoken Scots remained vigorous, at least in rural areas and among the burgeoning working classes. Despite ongoing dialect change and levelling of Scots towards Scottish Standard English, this linguistic situation still persists, although with the additional qualification of Scots as either ‘good’, i.e. traditional and rural, or ‘bad’, i.e. degenerate and urban (cf. Aitken 1984: 529). It is probably fair to say that a good proportion of the population of Scotland, now estimated at 5,062,011 according to the 2001 census (GROS 2003), are potential speakers of Scottish Standard English. There are no official estimates or census statistics for the number of Scots speakers in Scotland, although Scots is now counted as a ‘language’ by the European Bureau for Lesser-Used Languages. Defining the number of speakers of Scots in Scotland is extremely difficult, and cannot be easily resolved by asking speakers (Murdoch 1995; Maté 1996; for discussion, see Macafee 1997: 515–518). The problem is created and exacerbated by a number of interrelated factors:

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1. the difficulty of recognizing Scots as a variety which is linguistically distinct from Scottish Standard English (for both linguists and native speakers); 2. the broad range of communicative competence in Scots found in speakers across Scotland; 3. the unresolved difficulty of determining whether Scots is an autonomous language; 4. the negative attitudes held towards Urban Scots, which is often regarded as a degenerate form of speech synonymous with slang (e.g. Macafee 1994); 5. the ongoing process of dialect levelling towards English throughout Scotland Two recent studies (Murdoch 1995; Maté 1996) have attempted to survey the number of Scots speakers, and at the same time (Maté 1996) to evaluate the feasibility of assessing Scots-speaking population through a survey tool such as a Census question. The number of self-professed Scots speakers was relatively low in both sample surveys (57% in Murdoch, 30% in Maté). In both cases, older working-class speakers were more likely to classify themselves as speaking Scots. The conclusions of Maté’s research, sponsored by the General Register Office For Scotland, state that the “inclusion of such a Census question would undoubtedly raise the profile of Scots” (1996: 2), but at the same time do not argue strongly for the Census as the optimal tool for estimating Scots speakers: Adequate estimates of the numbers of people who assess themselves as Scots speakers can be obtained from sample surveys much more cheaply than from a Census [...] A more precise assessment of genuine Scots language ability would require a more indepth interview survey and may involve asking various questions about the language used in different situations. Such an approach would be inappropriate for a Census. (Maté 1996: 2)

The 2001 Census did not include a Scots language question. It is possible to provide a very gross estimate of Urban Scots speakers by using Census data which refer to the population of the Central Belt. Of the total population of the Central Belt, 3,088,938, 66% are assigned to classes 3–8 of the socio-economic classification index used to compile the Census. If we guess that people assigned to these classes may in some domains and to differing degrees be more likely to use Scots than those in classes 1–2, on the grounds that Scots is likely to be continued in the lower middle and working classes (including those who have never worked or who are long-term unemployed), we could suggest that potentially this proportion has access to Urban Scots in some form. The population of the Central Belt makes up approximately two-thirds of the population of Scotland, and hence those classified as class 3–8 in that area make up 40% of the total population. People assigned to classes 3–8 in Scotland as a whole gives 67%, which might be very roughly indicative of a potential for Scots across the country, though this is much less certain.

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Beside the varieties of English origin which make up the Scottish English continuum, there are also other languages spoken in Scotland whose influence on Scottish English is known to a greater or lesser extent. Scottish Gaelic was once widespread across Scotland, particularly in the Western Isles and Highlands of Scotland. The proportion of speakers bilingual in Gaelic and English living in Scotland is now estimated at 58,652 (1.2% of the population; a slightly higher figure reported comprehension of Gaelic: 93,282, 1.84%). These figures are a slight reduction from those registered in 1991 (65,978, 1.3%). The English spoken in these areas, and also in small Gaelic/English bilingual enclaves in the cities, such as in Partick in Glasgow, has particular phonetic and phonological characteristics, for example the realization of /l/ as clear in all environments (e.g. Johnston 1997: 510), or the use of voiceless /s, S, tS/ where voiced /z, Z, dZ/ are expected, or the retroflex fricative [ß] as the outcome of /rs/ in words like force, some of which are due to Gaelic influence (see for example Wells 1982: 412–414). Another small subset of the population of Scotland are recorded in the Census as belonging to an ethnic minority. The number of people defined as ‘Pakistani/ Indian/Bangladeshi/Chinese/other Asian/Black-African/Black-Caribbean/BlackOther/Mixed/Other’ make up 2% of the total population of the country, and 5.45% of the population of Glasgow (GROS 2003). As Verma (1995: 120) has pointed out, this substantial ethnic minority population also has linguistic implications, leading to “the recent emergence of a bilingual, and culturally and linguistically diverse, population in schools, where for historical reasons monolingualism was the norm”. His analysis of data for ESL provision for the Lothian region reveal 54 languages other than English in primary schools, and 37 in secondary schools, with overall Punjabi and Chinese (Hakka/Cantonese and Mandarin) as most common. The extent of influence of South Asian languages such as Punjabi, on Scottish English and particularly Urban Scots, has not yet been investigated, but my own informal observations suggest that younger members of these communities do show distinctive features, particularly in the realization of FACE and GOAT as closer monophthongs (even with expected breaking), some retraction in the articulation of /t, d/ which are often fronter in Scottish English, and characteristic patterns of intonation (higher nuclear tones) and voice quality (more nasalization and tenser phonation). Reviews of Scottish English phonology, such as that of Wells (1982: 393), typically concentrate on Scottish Standard English (ScStE), and for good reasons. After all, one could assume that Scots is a language distinct from English and hence not within the scope of any discussion of ‘English’ in Scotland. Certainly, Scots phonology is largely defined through a rather different lexical distribution resulting from differing historical developments in Scots (Wells 1982: 396). However, at the same time, excluding Scots means effectively excluding description of the possible phonological range of a very large number of speakers for whom Scots is a seamless part of their linguistic repertoire (see, e.g. Wells 1982: 395). Certainly any sociolinguistic analysis of urban Scottish English which includes phonetic or

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phonological variables and which includes working-class or lower middle class (or even middle-middle class) speakers is going to encounter Scots in some form. This will be most overt in lexical alternations such as hame /e/ for home, usually ScStE /o/. It will be less clear for those vowels whose lexical incidence is largely the same, such as Glaswegian KIT/BIT, and where socially-stratified variation occurs along a continuum correlating with social class (e.g. Macaulay 1977). However, close analysis of such data often reveals particular patterns of variants which may occur in working-class speakers that make more sense if we can acknowledge them as ongoing developments within and from Scots. Vowels and consonants may appear to be ‘the same’ in Scottish Standard English and Scots, but the patterns of variation may be rather different, and these differences may correlate with linguistic heritage (Stuart-Smith 2003). Of course this explanation makes it sound as if ScStE and Scots are distinct linguistic entities and the difficulty is that of course they are not. Nevertheless the blurred observable socio-phonetic continua do seem to show focussing about two poles, or at least about one which is ‘ScStElike’ and another which owes much, but certainly not everything, to what I call Scots here (see Stuart-Smith 2003: 117). Another motivation for including some discussion of Scots is provided by recent results of variation and change in Scottish English. For it is the speech of working-class youngsters which is showing the most vigorous innovation and change, and hence it seems that Urban Scots is undergoing the most far-reaching changes. Thus I take the view here that Scottish English must refer to the entire continuum, not simply to Scottish Standard English, and Scots is therefore included in my discussion. However, I too must choose an uneasy compromise in what material may or may not be included, since there is not space here to outline the phonology of Scottish Standard English and Scots in their entirety. Given that around two-thirds of Scottish English speakers inhabit the ‘Central Belt’, which loosely refers to the cities of Glasgow and Edinburgh and the relatively small strip of land which lies between and about them, and because much recent phonetic and phonological research has been carried out on these accents, the material in this chapter is biased towards these accents and especially Glaswegian. ‘Scots’ here generally refers to continuations of Central Scots found in contemporary Urban Scots. For an outline of historical developments in Scots see Macafee (2003), for the most comprehensive discussion of regional differences in Scots phonology, see Johnston (1997). Macafee (1997) provides a full review of sociolinguistic results, many of which are phonological.

2.

Phonological system

I have already argued that Scottish English is a bipolar continuum, and thus to describe the phonology of this continuum we need, at least descriptively, to refer to the phonologies of the two ends, Scottish Standard English and Scots. Both systems

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share inventories of vowels and consonants, but differ in lexical incidence, that is in the way that they are distributed across the lexicon. This results from the different historical developments of the two varieties. In fact, for the majority of the lexicon, lexical incidence largely overlaps, so we can recognise common or shared vowels, e.g. KIT/BIT, or consonants, e.g. /l/, which differ only in having distinctive (and sometimes overlapping) realizations in Scottish Standard English and Scots. Those speakers who have access to the Scots end of the continuum may also use particular Scots realizations for certain words, e.g. /u/ for /√u/ in house, and so have a distinct system of Scots lexical incidence. Recent research based on recorded interviews and conversations reveals that the actual number of words involved in Scots incidence is small, and their overall frequency is low (Stuart-Smith 2003), though the actual frequency may be higher in unobserved vernacular speech. Using the Scots variant is strongly marked both for speaker and hearer in the Scottish context. This division into Scottish Standard English and Scots systems inevitably presents an over-simplistic picture when we look at Scottish English speech. There are certainly speakers who use Scottish Standard English more or less exclusively. But there are far more who have access to Scottish Standard English, but who also have access to Scots, and who drift between the two, and this is especially common of those living in the Central Belt. What this means in practice is that there is a large number of Scottish English speakers, of working-class background, either still working class or recently moved into the middle classes, who may use distinctive Scots variants for most words, but who may alternate to a Scots variant for a smaller set of Scots words. Describing the phonological behaviour of these speakers, who seem to use systematically an alternating system of vowels and some consonants, presents quite a challenge to phoneticians, phonologists and sociolinguists (StuartSmith 2003). The phonetic and phonological description that follows owes much to previous work which is difficult to supersede and where many more details and extensive further bibliography may be found. Relevant works include Abercrombie (1979), Aitken (1979, 1984), Johnston (1997) and Macafee (1997). Particularly useful studies for Edinburgh, and for Glasgow, which is the accent used as the example for the tables and generally for comments unless noted, include Chirrey (1999), Johnston (1985), Macafee (1983, 1994), Macaulay (1977), Johnston and Speitel (1983), Romaine (1978) and Stuart-Smith (1999, 2003). The source of my comments on Glaswegian largely derive from analysis of a recent corpus of Glaswegian collected in 1997 by me with the help of Claire Timmins, a Scottish fieldworker and researcher.

3.

Vowels

The vowels of Scottish English are: /i, I, e, E, a, o, ç, u, √, ´i, ae, oe, √u/. Describing these vowels is complicated by the fact that they show two distinct but

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intersecting systems of lexical incidence typical of Scottish Standard English and Scots, which cannot be captured by using Wells’ (1982) lexical sets alone (e.g. Macafee 2003: 139). The picture is further complicated by Scots showing some regional differences for certain vowels. I therefore use three tables to illustrate the vowels of Scottish English. Table 1 shows the phonetic realizations of the vowels of Scottish Standard English together with variants typical of Urban Scots found in Glasgow, which is similar in many, but not all respects, to that of Edinburgh and across the Central Belt (e.g. Macafee 1994: 23–24). Table 2 gives the view from Scots, by showing Scots lexical incidence (after Johnston 1997). The column in the middle reflects the ‘system’ that is found in most Urban Scots speakers in Glasgow, that is certain vowels whose categories, if not realizations, are largely ‘shared’ across Scots and Scottish Standard English, and others which may alternate. Table 3 gives a very broad overview of regional variation in Scots across Central, Southern and Northern dialects according to Scots lexical incidence, which may be translated by detailed reference to Johnston (1997: 453–499); further details cannot be given here. All the tables emphasize phonetic realization, although inevitably the symbols are also used to represent phonemic categories, as in Table 2. After some deliberation I have chosen in general to use narrower transcriptions on the grounds that broader (and more abstract) symbols provoke impressions which may be potentially misleading phonetically and phonologically (see Foulkes and Docherty 1999: 12–13). This leads to the less usual representation of Scots BIT with /E_/ as opposed to /I/, and following from this BET with /E3/.

Table 1.

The vowels of Scottish English (example from Glasgow) – the view from Scottish Standard English (ScStE); after Stuart-Smith (1999: 206). ScStE

Urban Scots

ScStE

Urban Scots

KIT

I ~ e_

E_ ~ e_ ~ √ ~ I

CHOICE

çe

çe

DRESS

E

E3

MOUTH

√u=

u ~ √u

TRAP

a

a=

NEAR

i

i

LOT

ç4

o~ç

SQUARE

e

e ~ E3

STRUT

√

√_

START

a

E3 ~ a=

FOOT

u=

E_ ~ u ~ Y

NORTH

ç4

o~ç

BATH

a

a=

FORCE

o

o

CLOTH

ç4

o~ç

CURE

ju=

ju

FLEECE

i

i

HEAD

E

i ~ E3

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Table 1. (continued)

The vowels of Scottish English (example from Glasgow) – the view from Scottish Standard English (ScStE); after Stuart-Smith (1999: 206).

ScStE

Urban Scots

ScStE

Urban Scots

FACE

e

e

AFTER

a

E3 ~ a=

PALM

a

a=

NEVER

E ~ E_

E_ ~ e_ ~ I

THOUGHT

ç4

ç

STAY

e

´i ~ e

GOAT

o

o

STONE

o

e~o

GOOSE

u=

u~Y

STAND

a

ç4 ~ a=

BIRTH

I

E__ ~ √_

OFF

ç44

a= ~ ç

BERTH

E

E3 ~ E_

DO

u

e~u

NURSE

√

√_ ~ E_

happY

e

e ~ E_

PRICE

√i

´i

lettER

I~√

√_

PRIZE

ae

ae

commA

√

√_

Table 2.

The vowels of Scottish English (example from Glasgow) – the view from Scots; after Stuart-Smith (2003: 116). ↔ indicates alternation. Urban Scots

Urban Scots (in practice)

ScStE

MEET

i

i

i

BEAT

i

i

i

(DEAD)

i

i ↔ E3

E

MATE

e

e

e

(BOTH)

e

e↔o

o

BAIT

e

e

e

PAY

´i

´i ↔ e

e

BOOT

E__

E__ ↔ u

u=

DO

e

e↔u

u=

BIT

E__

BET

E3

E__

I

E3

E

OUT

u

u ↔ √u

√u=

COAT

o

o

o

COT

o

o↔ç

ç4

Scottish English: phonology Table 2. (continued)

The vowels of Scottish English (example from Glasgow) – the view from Scots; after Stuart-Smith (2003: 116). ↔ indicates alternation. Urban Scots

Urban Scots (in practice)

ScStE

OFF

a=

a= ↔ ç

ç4

CAT

a=

a=

a

(LONG)

a=

a= ↔ ç

ç4

(WASH)

a=

a= ↔ ç

ç4

HAND

ç

ç ↔ a=

a

START

E3

E3 ↔ a=

a

CAUGHT

ç

ç

ç4

(SNOW)

ç

ç↔o

o

CUT

√_

√_

√

(PULL)

√_

√_ ↔ u

u=

NEW/DEW

ju

ju

ju=

BITE

´i

´i

´i

TRY

ae

ae

ae

EYE

i

i ↔ ae

ae

LOIN

´i

´i ↔ oe

oe

VOICE

oe

oe

oe

LOUP ‘jump’

u

√u

(√u)

Table 3. Outline of main regional variants for Scots vowels. For locations of variants, see Johnston (1997), whose descriptions are the source of this table. Central Scots

Southern Scots

Northern Scots

TREE

i i

i Ei

i, Ii i, Ii

BEAT

i

i

e, Ei, i

MATE

e

e

e, i

BAIT

e

e

e

MEET

55

BOOT

E_

E_

i, e

DO

e

e

i:, Ii, e:

BIT

E_

E_

E_, I, Œ

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Table 3. (continued)

Outline of main regional variants for Scots vowels. For locations of variants, see Johnston (1997), whose descriptions are the source of this table. Central Scots

Southern Scots

Northern Scots

BET

E3

Q, a

e~E

OUT COW

u u, u

u u

u, u_, u Uu, u

COAT

o

o

o, ou

COT

o

o

ç, Å

CAT

a, A, Å

Å, A, a

A, Å, ç, a

CAUGHT

ç

A, Å, ç

A, Å, ç, a

CUT





, å, Œ, ç

NEW

ju

ju, iu, iu

ju, ju

DEW

ju

ju

ju

BITE

´i, E_i

´i, E_i

i, Ei, ´i

TRY

ae

ae, åe

Ae, ae ~ åe

LOIN

´i, E_i

oe

i, Ei, ´i

VOICE

oe

oe

i, Ei, ´i, oe, Åi

LOUP ‘jump’

´u, u, u

´u

EY, ´u, ´u

Rhoticity The retention of underlying post-vocalic /r/ means that in comparison to many other English accents, Scottish English in general does not show phonemic centring diphthongs in words such as near, hair. However, the selection and realization of vowels before /r/ varies considerably. In Scottish Standard English, in words such as fir, fern and fur, some speakers will show one vowel /I/ or /√/, others two /E, √/, and still others all three /I, E, √/. It is also possible to hear the realization [´] in some types of ScStE (Johnston 1997: 470). There are also differences in the back vowel used before /r/ in NORTH and FORCE (for more discussion, see Wells 1982: 407–408; Macafee forthcoming). In Scots it is common to find vowel breaking in the form of epenthetic schwa emerging before /r/ (and /n, l/) after most high vowels (e.g. MEET, MATE, COAT); see Johnston (1997: 455). Vowel length An important aspect of Scottish vowels is vowel length. The Scottish Vowel Length Rule (SVLR, also called ‘Aitken’s Law’) refers to the phenomenon whereby vow-

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els are phonetically long in certain environments: before voiced fricatives, before /r/, and before a boundary, including a morpheme boundary. Thus the vowels in breathe, beer, bee, and agreed are longer than in brief, bead, and greed. In diphthongs, e.g. PRICE/PRIZE (BITE/TRY), the SVLR manifests itself in quantity and quality differences which may be phonemic in Scots, e.g. aye [ae], ay [´i]. In the refined accents of ScStE, such as ‘Kelvinside’ (Glasgow) and ‘Morningside’ (Edinburgh), these diphthongs can be merged stereotypically as [ae] and show a raised first vowel followed by a reduced second vowel (Johnston 1985: 39, 1997: 493). The SVLR still operates in most varieties of Scots and in Scottish English in general, though it appears to be receding in some middle-class speakers in Edinburgh and in children of English-born parents (Jones 2002: 78). Recent accounts of the SVLR based on durational data conclude that the monophthongs /i, u/ and the diphthong /ai/ alone are subject to the SVLR. KIT

The usual realization of this vowel in ScStE is [I], though it is often more open [e_]. Corresponding to KIT is Scots BIT which is generally in the region of [E_] but in certain contexts, e.g. after labials, as in milk, fill, may be substantially lowered and retracted and even merged with CUT (Johnston 1997: 468). A socio-phonetic continuum stretches between KIT/BIT, such that the realization shows clear differences according to class. This has been investigated in Edinburgh (Johnston and Speitel 1983) and Glasgow in the 1970s (Macaulay 1977) and again in the 1990s (Stuart-Smith 1999: 207). In all cases lower-class speakers used lower and more retracted variants than those of higher-class speakers. In a recent study by Viktoria Eremeeva and myself, acoustic data from male Glaswegian speakers show middle-class men using the highest vowels, but middle-class boys using the frontest variants, but lower, at the same height as working-class speakers. Interestingly, in spontaneous speech working-class boys are not as retracted as working-class men, suggesting a move away from stereotypically retracted localized variants for this vowel. Though not part of our analysis, we also noticed that [E_] was usual even in contexts where CUT would be expected in these speakers. DRESS

The ScStE vowel is closer than that of RP, and in Scots corresponding BET is closer still, represented here as [E]; see Johnston (1997: 472). NEVER

Abercrombie (1979: 74) discusses the possibility of a ‘third’ phoneme between // and /E/ for Scottish Standard English, occurring in a few words such as never, seven, heaven, devil, which he transcribes with /E_/, and which may be restricted to certain regions such as the West of Scotland, the Borders, and Edinburgh. My own experience from teaching Scottish students confirms /E_/ for some speakers

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but with no obvious areal distribution and a good deal of individual variation (cf. Wells 1982: 404). In Scots the equivalent vowel is BIT or BET (Johnston 1997: 471). TRAP/PALM/BATH

Scottish Standard English usually shows a single vowel for TRAP and PALM, and the same for BATH, represented here as /a/, though Abercrombie (1979: 75–76) observes that “quite a lot of people, particularly in Edinburgh” do have two vowels but with slightly different lexical incidence, giving rise to /A/ in e.g. value, salmon. The corresponding Scots vowel is CAT, whose realization tends to be more retracted in Glasgow (Macaulay 1977; Stuart-Smith 1999: 208) and even more so in Edinburgh (Johnston and Speitel 1983). Macaulay (1997) again found social stratification in the realization of /a/, with fronter variants in higher class speakers and backer ones in lower class speakers. Some of Macaulay’s Class I speakers showed the very front [Q] which is stereotypical of the speech of the middle-class ‘Kelvinside’/‘Morningside’ areas (Wells 1982: 403), where it is said that “‘sex is what the coal comes in’ and ‘rates are large rodents akin to mice’” (Johnston 1985: 37). As in Macaulay’s data, the working-class pronunciation in the 1997 Glasgow data was more retracted than that of middle-class informants, though with some unexpected alignment of allophonic variation with English English lexical incidence such that fronter allophones were found in e.g. cap [kap] and backer ones in e.g. car [ka=R8] (Stuart-Smith 1999: 209). LOT/CLOTH/THOUGHT

Again, Scottish Standard English usually shows one vowel here, transcribed /ç4/, but some speakers may have a distinction between LOT and THOUGHT, with again a slightly different lexical incidence such that e.g. lorry would select /ç4/ rather than expected English English /Å/ (Abercrombie 1979: 76). Abercrombie observes that an /Å ~ ç/ contrast assumes an /a ~ A/ contrast. In Urban Scots COT and CAUGHT are distinct but with different realizations, [o] and [ç] respectively (Johnston 1997: 490). GOOSE/FOOT

According to Wells (1982: 401), “from a diagnostic point of view, the most important characteristic of the Scottish vowel system is its lack [...] of a phoneme /U/”. The vowels of these two sets are together realized as a high, usually rounded, vowel which is central or even front, transcribed here as [u]. As for LOT/THOUGHT and TRAP/PALM, ScStE speakers may show two vowels here, but this is less usual and presumes the other contrasts (Abercrombie 1979: 76–77). The corresponding Scots vowel is OUT, whose realization tends to be fronter (on Scots OUT-fronting, see Johnston 1997: 475), and can even be unrounded to [I]. (GOOSE and FOOT correspond to the Scots set BOOT and so select the vowel of BIT, though lexical

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‘bleeding’ leading to replacement with ScStE /u/ is gradually progressing: Johnston 1997: 466). As with KIT/BIT and TRAP,BATH,PALM/CAT, there is sociolinguistic variation in the realization of GOOSE,FOOT/OUT. Macaulay (1977) reported backer variants in higher class speakers and fronter variants in lower class informants. FACE/GOAT

The vowels of these sets tend to be monophthongs, though some Scottish Standard English speakers, such as the rather unusual-sounding Scottish-English-speaking BBC Scotland newscasters, will sometimes use diphthongs similar to Southern English English (Macafee 1983: 35). The Scots monophthongs in MATE/BAIT and COAT/ COT can be realized as closer vowels. Apart from phonetic breaking before /r/ (and sometimes /n, l/) in working-class speakers in the 1997 Glasgow corpus, there was very little evidence for a diphthongal realization of these vowels in any speakers. SQUARE

In the Urban Scots of Glasgow, /er/ from all sources, including MORE/MATE and POOR/BOOT, may be lowered to BET, perhaps as a result of Irish/Ulster influence. Macafee’s (1994: 225) analysis of her Glaswegian sample showed weak support for this as a particularly Catholic feature. Scots OUT The selection of the Scots vowel /u/ in a word like house (OUT) tends to correlate with social stratification, such that middle-class speakers will avoid Scots variants and working-class speakers will use them to differing degrees depending on the alternating vowel and even the word involved. Though Macafee (1994) has analysed the results for 11 alternating vowels in her sample of Glaswegian, the Scots alternation which has received the most attention is that of OUT (see e.g. Macaulay 1977; Johnston and Speitel 1983; Stuart-Smith 2003). The results of these studies confirm that: (i) the Scots form is characteristic of working-class speech; (ii) few lexical items occur in these data (only 12 in the 1997 Glasgow corpus); (iii) speakers always show some alternation (sole use of Scots /u/ is not attested); and (iv) that the alternation appears to be stable over the past 30 years (in Glaswegian at least). This last finding is interesting as it demonstrates that some features of Scots phonology are vigorous.

4.

Consonants

The consonants of Scottish English are: /p, b, t, d, k, g, f, T, v, D, s, z, S, Z, x, „, h, tS, dZ, r, l, m, n, N, w/. As for the vowels, alternations arise from Scots lexical incidence, but fewer consonants are

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involved: /v ~ ∅/, e.g. give/gie; /T ~ ∅/, e.g. with/wi’; /nd ~ n/, e.g. stand/staun; /t ~ d/, e.g. bastard/bastart; /l ~ V/, e.g. football/fitbaw. We now have a substantial body of information about the realisation of consonants in Urban Scots, largely as a result of recent work on Glaswegian (e.g. Stuart-Smith 2003), but also arising from other studies (see e.g. the summaries in Johnston 1997 and Macafee 1997). To date 11 consonant variables have been considered in detail from the 1997 Glasgow corpus: t, th, dh, s, x, hw, l, r-realisation, postvocalic r, k, w. In what follows, I restrict my discussion mainly to Scottish English of the Central Belt; for details for regional variation, particularly in Scots, see Johnston (1997). Stops Stops are generally reported to be less aspirated in Scottish Standard English (e.g. Wells 1982: 409) and the same is said for Scots, though Johnston (1997: 505) notes that aspiration is creeping into the dialects of the Central Belt. My auditory impressions from the Glasgow data are also that all speakers are less aspirated than typical Southern English English, but this has yet to be investigated acoustically (a recent student project with two informants showed consistently shorter duration of aspiration for a working-class speaker as opposed to a middle-class speaker for /t, p, k/). The place of articulation for /t, d/ can be alveolar or dental, with dental articulations reported for Scots (Wells 1982: 409; Johnston 1997: 505). In Glasgow all speakers showed degrees of advanced tongue tip/blade, indicating a fronted or dental articulation for /t, d/ (and /l, n/); see Stuart-Smith (1999: 216). I deal with /t/-glottalling in the next section, but note here that glottalling of /p/ and /k/ is also reported for Glaswegian, as are ejective realizations of emphatic utterance final stops. See Johnston 1997: 501 for regional variation in glottalling and preglottalization in Scots. /t/ /t/-glottalling, the realisation of non-initial /t/ with a glottal stop in words such as butter and bottle, is a stereotype of Glasgow speech and Urban Scots more generally (cf. e.g. Johnston and Speitel 1983; Macafee 1994: 27, 1997; Johnston 1997: 500). It is even spreading into Scots as a general Scottish feature (Johnston 1997: 501). In Glasgow, /t/-glottalling is clearly evidenced in Macaulay’s data with the lower classes using glottals extensively (90% for Class III). An analysis of the 1997 Glasgow data revealed similar patterns, and a cautious real-time comparison across the two suggested some increase among working-class speakers, especially girls (though with the already high numbers in 1973 there was little room for manoeuvre). Perhaps more interesting were the qualitative patterns of /t/-glottalling which were found from a close analysis of my 1997 corpus. In other accents of English /t/glottalling is a feature which seems to correlate with social class on a continuum,

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with higher class speakers using few glottals and lower classes using more. On the face of it a similar impression can be gained from looking at Scottish English, and certainly this is how it looks for the 1973 and 1997 results. However, when I analysed the patterning of glottals in working-class speakers and middle-class speakers according to phonetic environment, comparing the usage in prepausal position (e.g. but) compared with word-final prevocalic (e.g. a lot of) and intervocalic position (e.g. water), a striking difference in patterning emerged. When all instances where [t] was used (exceptions to /t/-glottalling) were considered, it became clear that /t/-glottalling is the norm for working-class speakers, and we could even say obligatory for working-class adolescents. All exceptions are clearly motivated. Middle-class speakers however show a different pattern. For them [t] is the norm, and /t/-glottalling optional. That these distributions amounted to systematic patterning was shown when speakers tried to shift socially through /t/-glottalling. Movement sociolinguistically seems to require a systematic shift which neither middle- nor working-class speakers achieved successfully. Middle-class children moving ‘down’ approximated the working-class pattern but were not entirely successful, retaining traces of typical middle-class patterning. Working-class adults trying to move ‘up’ approximated their middle-class peers intervocalically, but again retained working-class patterns in the categorical use of glottals before a pause. Thus successful style-shifting along the Scottish English continuum requires more than simply increasing or reducing the number of glottals used, and demonstrates the continuation of different constraints inherited from Scots and Scottish Standard English respectively. Variants other than released [t] or glottals were less usual. /x, „/ /x, „/ are not generally found in southern accents of English English and RP (Wells 1982: 408). However, the extent to which these categories are intact for some speakers of Urban Scots is doubtful. Macafee’s (1983: 32) observation of [k] and [w] as possible realisations in localized Glasgow speech was confirmed for the speech of the working class speakers in 1997, especially the adolescents, for whom [k] and [w] are the majority forms. Johnston (1997: 507) reports [w] for [„] in Edinburgh, and a recent study of the speech of the new town Livingston, which lies between Edinburgh and Glasgow, found [k] but not [w] (Jones 2002: 57). [x] and [„], which we might expect to be characteristic of Urban Scots, are generally maintained in Scottish Standard English. (In Northern Scots [„] has been replaced by [f], see Wells 1982: 397–398; Johnston 1997: 507). /T, D/ In Scottish Standard English /T, D/ are realized as voiceless dental fricatives. In Urban Scots /T/ has the traditional variant [h], in e.g. think, something, which

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may also be completely deleted in e.g. think, both, and a possible retroflex or alveolo-palatal fricative or [®8] in the initial cluster /Tr/, in e.g. three (Wells 1982: 410; Macafee 1983: 33). Macafee (1983: 34) noted sporadic instances of /f/ for /T/ in Glasgow. By the time of the collection of the 1997 Glasgow corpus [f] had emerged as a variable but frequent variant in the speech of working-class adolescents (Stuart-Smith 1999: 209). Interestingly [f] is added to the existing Scots variants to form a constellation of ‘non-standard’ variants for // such that in spontaneous speech [] accounts for less than a third of the overall variation in these speakers. The traditional Urban Scots variant for //, particularly in intervocalic position, is the tap [R], in e.g. brother, though complete elision is also common, in e.g. the tag, an(d th)at (Wells 1982: 410; Johnston 1997: 508). Again the working-class adolescents in the 1997 Glasgow sample showed [v] for /D/ in words such as smooth; [v] joins the traditional Scots variants to extend the array of possible ‘nonstandard’ variation, though unlike // this makes up a much smaller proportion of the variation (under 20%). Stopping of /T, D/ occurs occasionally in Scots in Glasgow (Johnston 1997: 506) where it may be due to Irish/Ulster influence. /s, z/ Urban Scots is commonly noted as having a distinctive articulation of /s, z/, which has been described as apico-alveolar (e.g. Johnston 1997: 509). Auditory and acoustic analyses of the 1997 Glasgow corpus suggest that the traditional Scots articulation is also governed by gender. /h/ and /j/ /h/-dropping is not generally reported for Scottish English (Wells 1982: 412). It is only rarely apparent in e.g. enclitic him, her. Similarly, yod-dropping appears to function much as Wells states, i.e. after [l] and commonly after [s], with only sporadic instances elsewhere. Clusters with yod, such as [tj] in nature, which have undergone coalescence to [tS] in Standard English are still retained by some speakers (Wells 1982: 412; Macafee 1983: 32–33). In Urban Scots /hj/ in e.g. Hugh, human can be realized as [C] or [S]; see Johnston (1997: 509). /r/ Scottish Standard English is generally rhotic (Wells 1982: 10–11); in the 1997 Glasgow data articulated /r/ made up around 90% of all variants for postvocalic /r/ in middle-class speakers (Stuart-Smith 2003: 128–129.). In Urban Scots /r/vocalization is becoming increasingly common (Johnston 1997: 511). Romaine (1978) reported loss of postvocalic /r/ in the speech of working-class children in Edinburgh, where she also noted gendered distribution of variants, with girls showing more approximants and boys showing more r-lessness. The analysis of

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postvocalic /r/ in the Glasgow data confirmed Macafee’s (1983: 32) comments in the discovery of extensive /r/-vocalization in working-class adolescents (StuartSmith 2003). Two ‘vowel’ variant categories were set up: vowels with audible secondary velarization/pharyngealization (cf. Johnston 1997: 511), and ‘plain’ vowels with no audible secondary articulation. Interestingly, there appears to be subtle conditioning according to gender in the use of these variants: girls overall tended to vocalize more, and to favour plain vowels, especially in contexts such as before a consonant, e.g. card or unstressed prepausal, e.g. better; boys used both plain and velarized variants before a consonant, but preferred velarized vowels in words like better (Stuart-Smith 2003: 126–135). The phonetic realization of /r/ is variable. Wells states that trills are unusual, and certainly I have rarely heard them amongst Scottish English students. More usual are approximants, post-alveolar [®] and retroflex [”], and alveolar taps [R], which vary according to position in the word, phonetic environment, and sociolinguistic factors. Scots is usually said to favour taps, though Johnston (1997: 510) notes that [®], more typical of Scottish Standard English, is encroaching. My analysis of the realization of /r/ in the Glasgow data showed that all variants were present in all speakers, with differences in distributional patterns and tendencies. Taps emerged as more common in working-class speakers (especially men) but only in read speech; retroflex approximants were more common in middle-class speakers. There was a slight tendency for the working-class adolescents, who produced a high proportion of vocalized variants, to use taps for articulated /r/. /l/ Across the Scottish English continuum, the secondary articulation of /l/ tends to be dark in all positions in the word (Wells 1982: 11; Johnston 1997: 510). Exceptional use of clear /l/ is sometimes found in Highland English and occasionally in Scottish Standard English with a distribution similar to that of English English (Macafee 1983: 33). In the 1997 Glasgow data velarized, and velarized and pharyngealized secondary articulations were heard. /l/-vocalization was a historical process in Scots, yielding common forms such as a’ ‘all’ (Macafee 1983: 38). More recently, /l/-vocalization of the kind usually found in southern English, to a high back vowel [F] or [o] (Wells 1982: 258) was reported in Glaswegian (Macafee 1983: 34), and confirmed by subsequent analysis, especially for working class adolescents.

5.

Suprasegmentals

In describing vowels and consonants, the preceding description has emphasized segments, perhaps at the expense of obscuring recurring traits which may occur in

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groups of speakers and which may arise from shared features of the longer domain phenomenon of voice quality. However, there are certainly links between a number of features noted above for Glaswegian and features of voice quality in the same data. For example, /r/-vocalization to a vowel with secondary velarization with some pharyngealization in working-class speakers fits well with my earlier observation of raised and backed tongue body with possible retracted tongue root for the same speakers (Stuart-Smith 1999: 215). Apart from the work of Brown and colleagues on Edinburgh intonation (e.g. Brown, Currie, and Kenworthy 1980), there has been surprisingly little research on intonation in Scottish English. Cruttenden (1997: 136) notes that for accents of Scotland other than those found in Glasgow, statements and questions will invariably show “a sequence of falling tones”. The main difference between the speech of Edinburgh and Glasgow is in terminating mid-to-low-falls in Edinburgh (e.g. Brown, Currie, and Kenworthy 1980) but a tendency towards high rising patterns in Glasgow (e.g. Macafee 1983: 36; Stuart-Smith 1999: 211). The extent to which these continue patterns from earlier forms of Scots is not known, though Northern Irish influence may be invoked to some extent to explain distinctive Glaswegian patterns (Macafee 1983: 37; on Irish English influence more generally, see Cruttenden 1997: 133). It seems unlikely that Glasgow’s ‘high rise’ is linked to the apparently rapid spread of high-rising terminal intonation patterns in southern accents of English English (see Cruttenden 1997: 129). Even less has been said about rhythm in Scottish English, bar Abercrombie’s (1979: 67) comments that disyllabic words such as table are often pronounced with a short first syllable and long second syllable. This is also my impression when teaching rhythm to Scottish English students. Abercrombie also makes the observation that syllabification in Scottish Standard English tends to favour open syllables, so that a phrase like St Andrews will be syllabified into [sn` tandruz].

6.

Major issues in current research

Good summaries of previous phonetic, phonological and sociolinguistic research on Scottish English may be found in Aitken (1984) and Macafee (1997). The most recent fundamental research into the phonetics and phonology of Scottish English has been carried out by James Scobbie (Queen Margaret University College, Edinburgh), who is concentrating on empirical investigation of the Scottish Vowel Length Rule using articulatory and acoustic phonetic analysis (e.g. Scobbie, Hewlett and Turk 1999), but who is also working on other aspects of Scottish English, such as the voicing contrast as reflected in Voice Onset Time (VOT) systems in Shetlandic. Closely related to Scobbie’s work is that of Ben Matthews who looked at the acquisition of the Scottish Vowel Length Rule in Edinburgh children.

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The reader is referred to the full bibliography on the CD-ROM for the relevant studies mentioned in this section. Much other current research on the phonology of Scottish English is concerned with the interrelation of accent and user. Dominic Watt (Aberdeen) is developing research on accent and identity, looking specifically at phonetic and phonological features of Scottish English on the Scottish/English Border, as illustrated by the inhabitants of Berwick upon Tweed. Attitudes and accent change have been investigated recently by Karen Torrance (2002). She tracked the relationship between incoming diffusing features such as /th/-fronting in Glaswegian and attitudes of speakers using such features towards different regional accents of English. Her complex results show that attitudes seem to relate to language use for certain speakers only, thus highlighting the role of the individual in this process. Call centres, outlets of companies which conduct their business with customers using the telephone, have flourished in the Central Belt of Scotland. Features of Scottish English in call centre interaction is thus an obvious but neglected area of research which formed the focus of Suzy Orr’s (2003) study. She found some evidence of accommodation in Glaswegian agents to their callers. Phonological variation and change in the Scottish English of Glasgow is the subject of my own research with colleagues Claire Timmins, Eleanor Lawson and Viktoria Eremeeva (e.g. Stuart-Smith 2003), which tackles some of the issues raised above and others including sound change in Glaswegian, real time change in Glaswegian, social factors and sound change, mobility and dialect contact in Glaswegian, and acoustic analysis in sociolinguistic investigation. Most of my work has concentrated on consonant change, but Eremeeva (2002) started the work of analysing vowels in the 1997 corpus. The first phase of the work, which took 11 consonants and considered them both singly and together, has identified innovation and change led by working-class adolescents, with few indications of gendered distribution. What emerges from these results is the extent to which Urban Scots is developing as a dynamic mixture of vigorous local and non-local features. Exactly how and why the dialect is changing in these ways remains the subject of further research. *

I am very grateful to the Leverhulme Trust for supporting the data analysis with a research grant (F/179/AX) and the AHRB for supporting its writing up with a research leave grant. Thanks are due to Claire Timmins who acted as researcher on the Leverhulme project, and to Wolf-Gerrit Fruh who compiled the Census statistics. I am grateful to Clive Upton for his editing, and to Caroline Macafee, Claire Timmins, Suzy Orr, and Dom Watt who commented on an earlier draft. All errors and opinions remain my own.

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Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Abercrombie, David 1979 The accents of standard English in Scotland. In: Aitken and McArthur (eds.), 68–84. Aitken, Jack 1979 Scottish speech: a historical view with special reference to the Standard English of Scotland. In: Aitken and McArthur (eds.), 85–118. Aitken, Jack 1984 Scots and English in Scotland. In: Trudgill (ed.), 517–532. Brown, Gillian, Karen Currie and Joanne Kenworthy 1980 Questions of Intonation. London: Croom Helm. Chirrey, Deborah 1999 Edinburgh: descriptive material. In: Foulkes and Docherty (eds.), 223–229. Cruttenden, Alan 1997 Intonation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. GROS 2003 Census 2001 Scotland. General Register Office for Scotland. Johnston, Paul 1985 The rise and fall of the Morningside/Kelvinside accent. In: Görlach (ed.), 37– 56. Johnston, Paul 1997 Regional variation. In: Jones (ed.), 433–513. Johnston, Paul and Hans Speitel 1983 A sociolinguistic investigation of Edinburgh speech. Final Report to the ESRC. Jones, Charles 2002 The English Language in Scotland: An Introduction to Scots. East Linton: Tuckwell. Macafee, Caroline 1983 Glasgow. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. 1994 Traditional Dialect in the Modern World: A Glasgow Case Study. Frankfurt am Main: Lang. 1997 Ongoing change in modern Scots: the social dimension. In: Jones (ed.), 514– 548. 2003 The phonology of older Scots. In: Corbett, McClure and Stuart-Smith (eds.), 138–169. forthcoming Scots and Scottish English. In: Hickey (ed.). Macaulay, Ronald 1977 Language, Social Class and Education: A Glasgow Study. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.

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Scots Language: A Report on the Scots Language Research Carried out by the General Register Office for Scotland in 1996. Edinburgh: General Register Office. Murdoch, Steve 1995 Language Politics in Scotland. Aberdeen: Aiberdeen Univairsitie Scots Leid Quorum.

Irish English: phonology Raymond Hickey

1.

Introduction

The English language was introduced to Ireland with the coming of the AngloNormans from West Wales in the late 12th century. Among the settlers were English speakers who coexisted with the Norman French in Ireland, settling down in the towns of the east coast of Ireland and providing the cells out of which the English-speaking population of Ireland was later to emerge. Since the late 12th century, the fate of English has been closely linked with that of the Irish language which it came largely to replace in the late modern period. In addition, the interaction of existing forms of English with the Scots imported in the early 17th century in the north of the country led to the linguistic separation of Ulster, the most northerly province, from the rest of the country. This state of affairs provides the rationale for the division of English in Ireland into two broad groups as reflected by divisions in the current chapter. For the many varieties of English on the island of Ireland there are different designations. Anglo-Irish is an established term in the literature to refer to works written in English by authors born in Ireland and is also used in politics. The difficulty with the term is its occurrence in these other spheres. Within the context of other varieties, Canadian English, for instance, the term is still used to refer to English in Ireland. Hiberno-English is a learned term which is derived from the Latin term Hibernia ‘Ireland’. The term enjoyed a certain currency in the 1970s and 1980s but in the 1990s many authors ceased to employ it, as it often needs explanation to a non-Irish audience or readership. However, not all authors share this opinion, see for example Dolan (1998) who uses the term Hiberno-English. Irish English is the simplest and most convenient term. It has the advantage that it is parallel to the designations for other varieties, e.g. American, Australian, Welsh English and can be further differentiated where necessary. Throughout the present chapter this term will be used. In the north of the country terms are used which reflect historical origins, e.g. Ulster Scots for the English stemming from the initial Lowland Scots settlers, MidUlster English for geographically central varieties which are largely of northern English provenance. There is much discussion of the status of Ulster Scots as a possible separate language and similarly the status of Scots is debated. A discussion of this issue is, however, well beyond the brief of the current chapter.

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Contact English is found occasionally to refer globally to varieties spoken in areas where Irish is also spoken (in Donegal, Connemara and Kerry, see maps at end of chapter). 1.1.

Historical background

The most cursory glance at the history of Irish English reveals that it is divided into two periods. The first period starts in the late 12th century with the arrival of the first English-speaking settlers and finishes around 1600 when the second period opens. The main event which justifies this periodisation is the renewed and vigorous planting of English in Ireland at the beginning of the 17th century. One must first understand that during the first period the Old English, as this group is called in the Irish context, came increasingly under the influence of the Irish. The Anglo-Normans who were the military leaders during the initial settlement had been completely absorbed by the Irish by the end of the 15th century. The progressive Gaelicisation led the English to attempt planting the Irish countryside in order to reinforce the English presence there. This was by and large a failure and it was only with James I that successful planting of (Lowland Scottish and English) settlers in the north of the country tipped the linguistic balance in favour of English in the north. During the seventeenth century (after the Cromwellian campaigns at the middle of the century) new forms of English were brought to Ireland: Scots in the north and West/North Midland varieties in the south (where there had been a predominantly West Midland and south-west input in the first period). Although there was renewed Anglicisation, on the east coast, in Dublin and other locations down to Waterford in the south-east, there is a definite continuation of south-west English features which stem from the imported varieties of the first period. This fact underlies a distinctive east coast dialect area. 1.1.1. The medieval period The documentary record of medieval Irish English is confined for all intents and purposes to the collection of 16 poems of Irish provenance in BM Harley 913 which are known collectively as the Kildare Poems (Heuser 1904; Lucas 1995) after one of the poems in which the author identifies himself as from the county of Kildare to the south-west of Dublin. The collection probably dates from the early 14th century. The language of these poems is of a general west Midland to southern English character. Many of the idiosyncratic features can be traced to Irish influence (see discussion in Hickey 1993). It is a moot point whether the Kildare Poems were written by native speakers of Irish using English as a H-language in a diglossic situation or whether indeed the set was written by one or more individuals. Apart from the Kildare Poems, medieval Irish English is attested in a number of verse fragments and in city records from Dublin and Waterford, comments on which can be found in Henry (1958).

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1.1.2. The early and late modern period At the end of the 16th century attestations of Irish English begin to appear which are deliberate representations of the variety of the time. These are frequently in the guise of literary parody of the Irish by English authors (Bliss 1979). The value of these written representations of Irish English for reconstructing the language of the time has been much questioned and it is true that little if any detail can be extracted from these sources. In addition most of the satirical pieces were written by Englishmen so that one is dealing with an external perception of Irish English at the time. Satirical writings are not the only source of Irish English, however. There are some writers, especially in the 19th century, who seriously attempt to indicate vernacular speech of their time, such as Maria Edgeworth in her novel Castle Rackrent (1801). 1.2.

Language shift in early modern Ireland

Literary parodies do not reveal anything about the then relationship of Irish to English, the spread of English and the regional input from England. There were no censuses before 1851 which gave data on speakers of Irish and English. Adams (1965) is a useful attempt to nonetheless produce a linguistic cartography of Ireland at the beginning of the early modern period. The upshot of this situation is that there is no reliable data on the language shift which began in earnest in the early 17th century and which had been all but completed by the late 19th century. It is clear that the Irish learned English from other Irish who already knew some, perhaps through contact with those urban Irish who were English speakers, especially on the east coast and through contact with the English planters and their employees. This fact had consequences for the nature of Irish English. Bliss (1977) pointed out that this fact is responsible for both the common malapropisms and the unconventional word stress found in Irish English. However, the stress pattern in verbs with final long vowels, e.g. distribute [dIstrI»bju˘t], educate [edju»ke˘t], can also be due to English input, particularly as late stress is a feature of southern Irish, not of the west and north, and so influence due to contact with Irish could only be posited for the south of Ireland. Another point concerning the language shift in Ireland is that it was relatively long, spanning at least three centuries from 1600 to 1900 for most of the country. The scenario for language shift is one where lexical transfer into English is unlikely, or at least unlikely to become established in any nascent supraregional variety of English in Ireland. Such dictionaries as Ó Muirithe (1996) and to a lesser extent Dolan (1998) seem to reveal a large number of Irish loans in present-day Irish English. But the question of currency is the key issue here: there is a great difference between the vocabulary of an older agricultural generation (which is frequently reflected in the entries in these dictionaries) and a younger urban one.

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In phonology and syntax the matter is quite different. Speakers who learn a language as adults retain the pronunciation of their native language and have difficulty with segments which are unknown to them. A simple case of this would be the substitution of English dental fricatives by stops (dental or sometimes alveolar, depending on region) in Irish English. A more subtle case would be the lenition of stops in Irish English, e.g. cat [kæt], which, while systemically completely different from lenition in Irish, could be the result of a phonological directive applied by the Irish learning English to lenite elements in positions of maximal sonority. 1.2.1. Contact Irish English In present-day Ireland there are only a few small remaining enclaves scattered along the western seaboard where Irish is still spoken as a native language in a situation of unbroken historical continuity. Apart from this there is an increasing number of language enthusiasts who speak Irish as a second language and attempt to keep the language alive by using it as much as they can, frequently in an urban environment which is completely English-speaking. In principle, the rural setting just mentioned should be the one in which the language shift scenario of previous centuries (Hickey 1995) is replicated, thus enabling linguists to view the process of language contact and transfer in vivo. Despite this fact there are few studies of contact Irish English today although the Irish language in contact areas has repeatedly been the subject of investigation, e.g. Stenson (1991). This study was carried out on seven informants from the north west of Ireland (Co. Donegal) to see what kinds of /l/ sounds they showed in English. To this end their Irish was investigated. This variety of Irish shows three types of /l/-sounds: a velarised [l], a palatalised [¥] and a (lenited) neutral [l]. It turned out that the speakers used the last sound as the realisation of English /l/ in all positions (bar before /j/ as in million /mIlj´n/ = [mI¥´n]) which tallies with the realisation of /l/ in the rest of the country where this was decided a century or two ago. 1.3.

Supraregionalisation

It is obvious from English loanwords in Irish that early Irish English had not progressed through the major long vowel shift in England, e.g. Irish bacús ‘bakehouse’ shows unshifted /a˘/ and /u˘/. The play Captain Thomas Stukeley (1596/1605), the first widespread representation of Irish English in literary parody, consistently uses for words with /au/ from Middle English /u˘/, e.g. toon for town. Furthermore, comments from Thomas Sheridan in the late 18th century (Sheridan 1781) show that Middle English /a˘/, as in patron, still had not shifted, nor had Middle English /E˘/ as in meat. But present-day Irish English shows little or no trace of these unshifted vowels. The reason is not that the shift took place in Irish English

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some time in the 19th century but that the unshifted forms were replaced by mainstream English pronunciations due to a process which I have labelled supraregionalisation. The essence of this process is the replacement of salient features of a variety by more standard ones, frequently from an extranational norm, as with southern British English vis à vis Irish English. The motivation for this move is to render a variety less locally bound, more acceptable to a wider community, hence the term supraregionalisation. 1.4.

Vernacularisation

The story of supraregionalisation does not end with the disappearance of strongly local features. There is another pathway which such features can take. This is the relegation to vernacular varieties. Take the instance of Middle English /E˘/ as in beat /bE˘t/. This pronunciation is now confined to strongly local varieties where supraregionalisation has not taken place. Furthermore, non-local speakers can style-shift downwards to achieve a vernacular effect. Another example of this would be the use of youse or yez for the second person plural (also found in other Anglophone areas such as Tyneside). This is shunned by non-local speakers but can be employed when deliberately switching to a vernacular mode. The process of vernacularisation has in some instances led to a lexical split. Consider the reflex of velarised [l] before [d] in Irish English: this led to the diphthong [au] as in the words old [aul] and bold [baul] with the common postsonorant stop deletion. These forms are available alongside /o˘ld/ and /bo˘ld/ to non-local speakers but the meanings are somewhat different as the original forms with [au] have gained additional meaning components: [aul] ‘old + affectionate attachment’, e.g. His [aul] car has finally given up the ghost, [baul] ‘daring + sneaking admiration’, e.g. The [baul] Charlie is back on top again.

2.

Varieties of Southern Irish English

It is obvious that linguistically, as well as politically, Ireland is divided into two broad sections, the north and the south. The former consists of the six counties presently within the state of Northern Ireland and of the large county of Donegal which is part of the Republic of Ireland. The north has a complex linguistic landscape of its own with at least two major historical varieties: Ulster Scots, the speech of those directly derived from the original Lowland Scots settlers, and Mid-Ulster English, the speech of those descendants of English settlers to central parts of Ulster. In addition there is the sociolinguistically complex capital, Belfast. Co. Donegal by and large goes with the rest of Ulster in sharing key features of English in the province and also of the varieties of Irish used there.

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The north of the country is quite distinct from the south, accents of northerners being immediately recognisable to southerners. A dividing line can be drawn roughly between Sligo, just south of Co. Donegal, and Dundalk on the east coast immediately below the border with Northern Ireland (Ó Baoill 1991). North of this line the accents are distinctly Ulster-like. South of this line the northern features rapidly give way to southern values. The term line here might imply a clearly delimited boundary, perhaps zone might be more accurate, as border counties such as Monaghan, Cavan or Louth show mixed accents which have adopted features from both northern and southern types. The transition can be clearly seen moving down the east coast: Dundalk has a northern flavour to its speech but this is more or less lost by the time one reaches Drogheda travelling southwards. However, the recordings of A Sound Atlas of Irish English show that key features of northern Irish English, such as mid front vowel breaking, as in save [se˘´v], and /u/-fronting, as in boot [but], extend quite far down the east coast, indeed in the case of the latter almost to the border of Co. Dublin. Table 1. Northern features which occur in the transition zone from south to north Use of interdental fricatives for dental stops in the south Use of a fronted allophone of /u˘/ and /u/, i.e. [u(˘)] A reduction in the vowel length distinctions Use of a retroflex [”] in syllable-final position Greater pitch range between stressed and unstressed syllables Greater allophony of /Q/, e.g. raised variants in a velar environment bag [bEg] and a retracted realisation in a nasal environment family [»fAmli] Recessive occurrence of glides after velars and before front vowels as in Cavan [»kjQv´n] (a border county)

2.1.

The East Coast

The east of the country stretches from the town of Drogheda somewhat north of Dublin down to Waterford in the south-east and includes such towns as Carlow, Kilkenny, New Ross, Wexford. This is the area which was first settled by the English from the late 12th century onwards and it is roughly coterminous with that which was encompassed by the Pale, the region of English influence in the late medieval ages, at its greatest extension. The original input from south-west England did in fact survive in altered form until the beginning of the 19th century in the archaic dialect of Forth and Bargy which was recorded by a few glossary compilers before it finally ceased to exist.

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Table 2.

East band features from Dundalk down to Waterford (including Dublin)

Fortition of dental fricatives to alveolar stops (also south), e.g. think [tINk] Lack of low vowel lengthening before voiceless fricatives (not Dublin), e.g. path [pat] Front onset of /au/, e.g. town [tæUn], [tEUn] Centralised onset of /ai/ (also south), e.g. quite [kw´It] Breaking of long high vowels (especially Dublin), e.g. clean [klij´n] Fortition of alveolar sibilants in pre-nasal position, e.g. isnt [Idn`t] No lowering of early modern /u/ (only Dublin), e.g. done [dUn] Glottalisation of lenited /t/, e.g. foot [fUt] → [fUt ] → [fU/] → [fUh] ˆ

2.2.

The South and West

This is a large region, from Co. Cork up to Co. Mayo, and was that in which Irish survived longest. As rule of thumb one can say that Irish receded from east to west. Furthermore, in this western and southern half of the country there is no survival of English from the first period with the possible exception of very small pockets in the major cities Cork, Limerick and Galway. Hence the English which developed here was that of the early modern period which arose through uncontrolled adult second language acquisition on the part of the rural inhabitants who represented the vast majority of speakers. Furthermore, the regional English input of the early modern period was of a largely West Midlands character. The south and the west can also be distinguished from each other, at least on phonological grounds. The major segmental feature is the raising of // to // before nasals in the south and southwest. This phenomenon is not spectacular in itself and is found in many varieties of English, most notably in the Lower South of the United States. But a consideration of the history of Irish English shows that this raising was of a more general type previously. If one looks at the many literary satires which contain Irish English, for instance in the collection by Alan Bliss (1979) or in A Corpus of Irish English (Hickey 2003), then one sees that formerly the raising occurred in non-nasal environments as well, e.g. divil, togithir, (from Dion Boucicault’s play Arragh na Pogue, 1864). What would appear to have happened in late 19th-century and/or early 20th-century Irish English is that the raising came to be restricted to environments in which it was phonetically natural, i.e. before nasals as these often trigger vowel raising due to their formant structure. This would mean that the situation in the south and south-west of Ireland (roughly the counties of Cork and Kerry) is a remnant of a much wider occurrence of // to // raising. A suprasegmental feature of the south, especially of the city of Cork, is the large intonational range characterised by a noticeable drop in pitch on stressed syllables.

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This intonational pattern is shared by Cork Irish, in the remnants which are still extant, so that this prosodic feature can be viewed as an areal feature of the south/ south-west. The city of Cork also has a very open realisation of the vowels in the LOT and THOUGHT lexical sets which is seen in (often stereotypical) pronunciations of the city’s name, [ka®k]. A distinctive feature of the west is the use of dental stops in the THINK-THIS lexical sets. In vernacular varieties in the east and south, alveolar stops are employed here. In the history of Irish English one can assume that Irish speakers switching to English would have used the nearest equivalent to English /T, D/, i.e. the coronal stops of Irish. These stops were alveolar in the east and south, but dental in the west so that speakers used /t5, d5/ as equivalents to the English dental fricatives in their second language English. This dental pronunciation of the west has become that of the supraregional variety of Irish English, itself deriving from usage in Dublin and spreading then throughout the country. But in vernacular Dublin English the realisation of dental fricatives has been as alveolar stops so it is not clear how vernacular speakers in Dublin came to use dental stops. One view is that they picked this articulation up from the many immigrants into Dublin in the latter half of the 19th century, because it (i) allowed them to dissociate themselves phonetically from vernacular speakers in the city and (ii) permitted a reversal of homophony in the words thinker and tinker. 2.3.

The Midlands

The centre of Ireland is a flat expanse bordered by the hills and mountains which occupy the coastal regions of the country. In general the term Midlands is used in Ireland to describe an area west of Co. Dublin as far as the Shannon and including its western shore linking up with east Clare, Galway and Mayo and on a north-south axis delimited by the border with Northern Ireland in the north and to the south by a line running roughly from Limerick across to Dublin. In this sense, Midlands actually refers to the north-central part of Ireland. Its extension to the south is limited and does not stretch far down into Co. Tipperary. The counties which are regarded as typically part of the Midlands are Westmeath, Longford, Offaly, Laois along with west Kildare and Meath, south Roscommon and north Tipperary. The main town in the Midlands is Athlone, situated on the Shannon about half way on its north-south course. To the north, the Midlands show the transitional features of the north-south divide (Ó Baoill 1991) such as /u/-fronting, the use of dental fricatives for stops in the THINK-THIS lexical set or a retroflex [”] for the more general, traditional velarised [®] of the south. The single most obvious feature of the Midlands is the shift of /tj/ to /k/ in intervocalic position as in fortune ['fçrku˘n], already mentioned in the 19th century. Other features are shared by adjoining varieties.

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Table 3.

Phonological features of the South, West and Midlands of Ireland

South and west from Cork through Limerick up to Galway and Sligo /E/ to /I/ before nasals Tense, raised articulation of /æ/ (also east) Considerable intonational range (only south, south-west) West Dental stop realisation in THINK-THIS lexical sets Low central onset for /ai/ and /au/, e.g. quite [kwaIt], town [taUn] Midlands Shift of /tj/ to /k/ in word-internal position, e.g. fortune ['fçrku˘n]

3.

Varieties of Northern Irish English

Any treatment of English in Ireland must take special account of the situation in Ulster. The reason for this lies in the settlement history of this province which led to the introduction of Scots and forms of northern English which were, and still definitely are, distinctive from all varieties of English in the south of the country. There has also been, as in the south, interaction between forms of English and Irish which has added a further dimension to the linguistic complexity in the north. A common means of alluding to the northern part of the island of Ireland is by the historical name Ulster which covers the entire north of Ireland. 3.1.

Terminology

Similarly to the south, any discussion of English in the north must begin with a consideration of terminology as there are many and frequently contradictory usages found in treatments of language in Ulster. Ulster English: 1) A cover term for various forms of English used in Northern Ireland. 2) A specific reference to English brought to Ulster from the north-west Midlands of England (Adams 1958: 61) and separate from the Scots element in the province. Because Ulster Scots (see section 3.2) is found in the peripheral counties of Ulster (Donegal, Derry, Antrim and Down), the label Mid-Ulster English (Harris 1984) is sometimes used to refer to general forms of English in Northern Ireland which are not derived from Scots. Ulster Scots: This refers to a continuation of the Scots language brought to Ireland chiefly in the 17th century onwards. Some tens of thousands of Scots arrived in the first half of this century and were mainly from the West-Mid and South-West

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Lowlands. Ulster Scots today still shows many features typical of the most characteristic form of English in Scotland, Scots. Northern Irish English: This subsumes all kinds of English in the north of the country, i.e. in all the nine countries of the province of Ulster, and is used in the present chapter. 3.2.

Ulster Scots

Of all the varieties of English taken to Ireland since the 17th century, Ulster Scots is the only one which has retained a distinct profile and which can be unambiguously linked to the present-day varieties to which it is immediately related: Scots in western Scotland. Undoubtedly, Ulster Scots, especially in its rural forms, is quite separate from other varieties of English in the north of Ireland, let alone the south. Its highly divergent nature has meant that much debate has taken place concerning its status as a language or a dialect. The regions where Ulster Scots is spoken are nowadays no longer contiguous. This would seem to imply a reduction of the previous geographical distribution. The areas where it is still found do, however, represent historical regions of settlement. There are three of these located on the northern periphery from north-west to north-east, hence the term Coastal Crescent or Northern Crescent (see maps at end of article). 3.2.1. Delimiting Ulster Scots A treatment of Ulster Scots must start with differentiating between conservative Ulster Scots (braid, i.e. broad, Ulster Scots, which has its base in rural areas of Ulster) and more standard forms which are spoken chiefly in urban centres, parallel to the established distinction in Scotland between Lowland Scots and Scottish Standard English (Harris 1984: 119). An essential feature of standard Ulster Scots is that most words with non-standard Scots vowel values have re-allocated values which are nearer to those in general Ulster English. The following list illustrates vowel values and some consonantal features which are indicative of conservative Ulster Scots; the yardstick of reference is Older Scots (Older Scots), up to 1700, i.e. before the emigration to Ulster began. Table 4.

Features of conservative Ulster Scots

Retention of Older Scots u# (not shifted to /au/) cow /ku˘/, hoos /hus/ A low, unrounded back vowel for Older Scots o, soft /sa˘ft/, top /tA˘p/ Older Scots ei merges with /i/ and not /ai/ [´I, Ae], die /di˘/ Older Scots o# has a fronted, unrounded reflex, blood /blId/

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Table 4.

(continued) Features of conservative Ulster Scots

Fronting and raising of Old English a#, home /he˘m/ Little raising of above vowel after labio-velars, two /twç˘/ Lowering of /I/ to /E/, thick /TEk/ No raising of Middle English /E˘/ to /i˘/, beat /bet/, meat /met/ Raising of Older Scots /a/ especially before /r/, farm /fE˘rm/ Distinct open and close mid back vowels, horse /hç˘rs/, hoarse /ho˘rs/ Distinction between short vowels before /r/, term /tErm/, burn /b√rn/ No rounding of /a/ after /w/, swan /swan/ Retention of distinction between /w/ and /„/, whale /„e˘l/, wale /we˘l/ Retention of syllable-final /x/, bought /bç˘xt/ Vocalisation of word-final /l/ [¬], full /fu˘/, wall /wç˘/

The shifts of vowel values in Ulster Scots when compared to southern British English have led to a re-alignment of vowel space. This can best be indicated diagrammatically as follows. The first shift one should note is that of Middle English /o˘/ to a front vowel, with or without rounding, i.e. Older Scots /I, O/. In Ulster Scots this vowel appears as /I/. Table 5. Ulster Scots vowel shifts /I/

←

/o˘/

loom /lIm/

/æ/

←

/I/

limb /læm/

/A˘/

←

/æ/

lamb /lA˘m/

3.3.

Contrasting northern and southern Irish English

In the following sections those features in which varieties in Ulster (both Ulster Scots and general Ulster English) differ from those south of the province will be discussed. In a number of instances it is necessary to distinguish the two main groups within Ulster. The yardstick for the south is the supraregional standard which ultimately is derived from middle-class Dublin English of the early and mid 20th century. Equivalents of dental fricatives In the entire area of Ulster the THIN and THIS lexical sets show fricatives. The only exception to this are areas of contact with Irish (in County Donegal) where

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one finds [t5] and [d5] because of the transfer from Irish of the realisations of /t/ and /d/ in the latter language. Table 6. The THIN and THIS lexical sets Ulster

Supraregional Southern

thick

[TEk]

[t5Ik]

that

[Dat]

[d5æt]

lather

[lA˘(D)´®]

[la˘d5´®]

brother

[brër]

[br√d5´®]



Dentalisation of alveolar stops before /r/ This is a phonetic process whereby an alveolar stop, typically /t/, is shifted forward to a dental point of articulation when it is followed by an unstressed rhotic schwa. The /r/ is realised as a tap or slight trill due to the position of the tongue parallel to the escaping airstream (Bernoulli effect) and is frequently voiceless. Table 7.

Dentalisation of alveolar stops before /r/ Ulster and Conservative Vernacular Southern

water

[wA˘t5´r]

better

[bEt5´r]

Allophones of alveolar plosives The fricativisation of /t/ and often /d/ intervocalically and word-finally before a pause is not generally to be found in the north – nor in other varieties of English, bar the Irish section of Newfoundland – and thus gains the status of a defining feature of southern Irish English. Table 8. Allophones of alveolar plosives Ulster

Supraregional Southern

bat

[bat]

[bæt]

bead

[bid]

[bid]





The palatalisation of velar plosives A conspicuous feature of generalised Ulster English is the palatalisation of /g/ and /k/ to /kj/ and /gj/ respectively. This palatalisation is only to be found before low

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vowels. It would appear to be an English and not a Scots feature and is attested in 18th-century mainland English although it was later lost. Table 9. The palatalisation of velar plosives

cat gap

Ulster

Supraregional Southern

[kjat] [gjap]

[kæt]  [gæp]

Off-glides When mid front vowels occur in stressed position, they tend to develop off-glides. This is particularly clear before a following consonant. Table 10. Off-glides Ulster

Supraregional Southern

save

[se˘´v]

[se˘v]

bait

[be˘´t]

[be˘t]



Unstressed vowels In unstressed positions southern Irish English frequently has the high vowel [i], i.e. without any centralisation to [I], so-called happY-tensing. Ulster English tends to lower an unstressed /i/ to a value approaching /e/. Table 11.

tricky happy

Unstressed vowels Ulster

Supraregional Southern

[trëke] [hApe]

[trIki] [hæpi]

Vowel quantity In Ulster, in strong contradistinction to the South, vowel quantity is often non-distinctive. High and mid vowels, which are elsewhere either long or short, appear phonetically half-long. Table 12. Vowel quantity Ulster

Supraregional Southern

full

[f¨l]

[fUl]

fool

[f¨l]

[fu˘l]

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Interpreting features of Irish English

In the history of Irish English studies, the pendulum of opinion concerning the role of contact in the genesis of these forms of English has swung back and forth. Initially writers like Joyce, P. L. Henry and, to a lesser extent, Hogan assumed that every feature which had a parallel in Irish was of Irish origin. This stance has been labelled the substratist position and came under heavy fire in the mid 1980’s most noticeably in John Harris’ (1984) influential article. The retentionist standpoint, which saw the input varieties of English in early modern Ireland as the source of features hitherto accounted for by contact, came into vogue and was represented by various scholars. But in the 1990’s the pendulum moved more to the centre with the gradual acceptance of contact as a source of specific features in Irish English (Hickey 1995), not for ideological reasons, as often previously, but due to a better understanding of the mechanisms of language transfer and language shift, not least due to authors on Irish English, such as Markku Filppula, taking on board the ideas of other linguists examining contact in general, expressed most clearly in the seminal monograph, Thomason and Kaufman (1988). Convergence became the new standard wisdom with contact and retention occupying places of equal standing in the history of Irish English. The following table offers suggestions for sources of key phonological features of Irish English. Table 13.

Phonological features and their possible sources

Phonological feature

Possible source

Dental/alveolar stops for fricatives

Transfer of nearest Irish equivalent, coronal stops Lenition as a phonological directive from Irish

Intervocalic and pre-pausal lenition of /t/ Alveolar /l/ in all positions

Use of non-velar, non-palatal [l] from Irish

Retention of [„] for

Convergence of input with Irish /f/ [∏]

Retention of syllable-final /r/

Convergence of English input and Irish

Distinction of short vowels before /r/, e.g. term [tE®m] and turn [t√®n]

Convergence of English input and Irish

Epenthesis in heavy clusters in syllable codas, film [fIl´m]

Areal feature of both Irish and English in Ireland

/u/-fronting in the north, e.g. boot [b¨t]

Areal feature of both Irish and English in Ulster

Lowering of short front vowels, e.g. bit [bet] Input to Ulster from Scotland Use of retroflex /r/ in Ulster

Input to Ulster from Scotland

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Ireland as a linguistic area

Table 13 contains features which are traits of vernacular varieties throughout the entire island. When treating features of Irish English, a holistic view can be useful, that is, rather than stress differences, one could examine the features common to most or all varieties and indeed go a step further and compare these to parallel structures in Irish. This approach is largely typological and sees Ireland (north and south) as a linguistic area. Not all of these are strongly diagnostic of Ireland as a linguistic area; they are also found in forms of English in England, quite apart from Anglophone varieties overseas. One should also mention that the non-existence of features across the entire country has led to negative definers for Irish English arising. For instance /r/-lessness and/or /h/-dropping are definite signs that a speaker is not Irish.

5.

Urban English in Ireland

5.1.

English in Dublin

The English language has been spoken in Dublin since the late 12th century. English never died out in the capital and there are some features of vernacular Dublin English which can be traced to the first period. The records of Dublin English are slight and consist before 1600 mainly of municipal records which here and there betray the kind of English which must have been spoken in the city (Henry 1958). For a historical background to present-day speech one must look to the elocutionist Thomas Sheridan (the father of the playwright Richard Brinsley Sheridan) who in 1781 published A Rhetorical Grammar of the English Language with an appendix in which he commented on the English used by middle class Dubliners, the “gentlemen of Ireland” in his words, which he regarded as worthy of censure on his part. When discussing consonants, Sheridan remarks on “the thickening (of) the sounds of d and t in certain situations”. Here he is probably referring to the realisation of dental fricatives as alveolar plosives as found in vernacular forms of Dublin English today. There is no hint in Sheridan of anything like a distinction between dental and alveolar plosive realisations, which is an essential marker of local versus non-local speech today. Table 14.

Dental versus alveolar stops in Dublin English

Local Dublin thank, tank [tæNk]

Non-local Dublin thank [t5æNk], tank [tæNk]

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5.1.2. Varieties of Dublin English Any discussion of English in Dublin necessitates a few basic divisions into types. For the present contribution a twofold division, with a further subdivision, is employed. The first group of speakers consists of those who use the inherited popular form of English in the capital. The term local is intended to capture this and to emphasise that these speakers are those who show strongest identification with traditional conservative Dublin life of which the popular accent is very much a part. The reverse of this is non-local which refers to sections of the metropolitan population who do not wish a narrow, restrictive identification with popular Dublin culture. This group then subdivides into a larger, more general section, mainstream, and a currently smaller group which vigorously rejects a confining association with low-prestige Dublin. For want of a better term, this group is labelled fashionable. Table 15. Varieties of Dublin English Forms of English in present-day Dublin 1)

local Dublin English

2)

non-local Dublin English

a) mainstream Dublin English b) fashionable Dublin English

A central issue in contemporary Dublin English is the set of vowel shifts which represent the most recent phonological innovation in Irish English (see section 5.1.4 for details). This is not surprising as Dublin is a typical location for language change given the following features: Firstly, the city has expanded greatly in population in the last three or four decades. The increase in population has been due both to internal growth and migration into the city from the rest of the country. Secondly, it has undergone an economic boom in the last 15 years or so, reflected in its position as an important financial centre and a location for many computer firms which run their European operations from Dublin. The increase in wealth and international position has meant that many young people aspire to an urban sophistication which is divorced from strongly local Dublin life. For this reason the developments in fashionable Dublin English diverge from those in local Dublin English, indeed can be interpreted as a reaction to it. This type of linguistic behaviour can be termed local dissociation as it is motivated by the desire of speakers to hive themselves off from vernacular forms of a variety spoken in their immediate surroundings. 5.1.3. Features of local Dublin English Vowel breaking Long high vowels are realised as two syllables with a hiatus between the two when they occur in closed syllables. The hiatus element is [j] with front vowels

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and [w] with back vowels, clean [klij´n], fool [fuw´l]. The disyllabification of long high vowels extends to diphthongs which have a high ending point as can be seen in the following realisations: time [t´j´m], pound [pEw´n]. Among the further prominent vocalic characteristics of Dublin English are the following: (a) Fronting of /au/, e.g. down [dEUn] - [deUn], (b) Lengthening of historically short vowels before /r/, e.g. circle [sE˘kl`], first [fU˘s(t)], (c) Retention of early modern English short /U/, e.g. Dublin [dUbl´n]. Cluster simplification Stops after fricatives or sonorants are liable to deletion. Intermediate registers may have a glottal stop as a trace of the stop in question: pound [peUn(/)], last [lQ˘s(/)]. Fortition of dental fricatives: It is safe to assume that the realisation of the first sound in the THOUGHT lexical set in popular Dublin English as an alveolar plosive [t] is not a recent phenomenon. Hogan (1927: 71–72) notes that it is found in the seventeenth century plays (assuming that t, d represent [t, d]) and furthermore in the Dublin City Records (from the first period, i.e. before the 17th century, see above) where the third person singular ending -th appears as -t. T-lenition The clearest phonetic feature of southern Irish English is the realisation of /t/ as a fricative with identical characteristics of the stop, i.e. an apico-alveolar fricative in weak positions. Extensions include the lenition of /t/ in a weak position beyond the initial stage of apico-alveolar fricative to /r/ then to /h/ with final deletion as in the following instance. Table 16. T-lenition Cline of t-lenition in Dublin English →

/t/

[t]

water

[wA˘t‘]





[®] →

[h]

[wA˘®‘]

[wA˘h‘]

→

ø [wA˘‘]

As mentioned above, the THIN and THIS lexical sets show alveolar stops rather than the dental stops of supraregional Irish English. 5.1.4. Recent developments As mentioned in section 5.1.2., the major instance of language change in presentday Ireland is undoubtedly the shift in pronunciation of Dublin English. To un-

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derstand the workings of this shift one must realise that in the course of the 1980s and 1990s the city of Dublin, as the capital of the Republic of Ireland, underwent an unprecedented expansion in population size and in relative prosperity with a great increase in international connections to and from the metropolis. The immigrants to the city, who arrived there chiefly to avail of the job opportunities resulting from the economic boom, formed a group of socially mobile, weak-tie speakers and their section of the city’s population has been a key locus for language change. The change which arose in the last two decades of the 20th century was reactive in nature: fashionable speakers began to move away in their speech from their perception of popular Dublin English, a classic case of dissociation in an urban setting. The variable /ai/ in Irish English A conservative pronunciation of /ai/ in Dublin is maintained in lower-class speech as [´I] whereas the supraregional variety of the south has for /ai/ a diphthong which has a low mid or low front starting point, i.e., either [aI] or [æi]. For fashionable Dubliners the [aI, æI] pronunciations sufficiently delimit them from local Dublin English. But increasingly a back starting point came to be used with this diphthong. This retracted starting point is particularly noticeable before /r/ so that the name of the country is realised as [AI®l´nd] rather than [aI®l´nd]. General shift of low vowels The vowel shift in Dublin English is not just confined to the realisation of /ai/. Other vowels in the area of this diphthong are affected, particularly the diphthong in the CHOICE lexical set and the low and mid vowels in the LOT and THOUGHT sets which usually have a lower realisation than in Britain (or unrounded in the case of the LOT vowel): boy /çI/ → [bÅI], pot /Å/ → [pÅt] - [pAt], law /ç˘/ → [lÅ˘].  These realisations show that the change has the characteristics of a chain shift, that is, it affects several segments by a process of retraction and raising in phonological vowel space. This can be seen from the following tables which summarise the various vowel developments. Table 17.

Summary of the present-day Dublin Vowel Shift

Retraction of diphthongs with a low or back starting point time [taIm] → [tAIm] toy [tÅI] → [tçI], [toI] Raising of low back vowels cot

[kÅt ]

→

[kçt]

caught

[kÅ˘t ]

→

[kç˘t ], [ko˘t ]









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Table 17.

(continued) Summary of the present-day Dublin Vowel Shift

Raising

Retraction

aI

→

oI ↑ çI ↑ ÅI AI

ç ↑ Å

o˘ ↑ ç˘ ↑ Å˘

5.1.5. The spread of fashionable Dublin speech Because of the status of Dublin, non-vernacular speech of the capital acts as a de facto standard for the rest of the south when speakers, outside of Dublin, are seeking a non-local, generally acceptable form of Irish English. This has also meant, for instance, that the retroflex [”] used by fashionable speakers in Dublin is spreading out of the capital, especially with younger urbanites from different parts of the country. Various features of fashionable Dublin English, both vocalic and consonantal, are spreading rapidly, especially among the younger female population. For the following discussion, this speech is labelled the New Pronunciation, the capital letters deliberately suggesting a bundle of features which are adopted as a group by innovative speakers. Apart from vowels, the New Pronunciation of southern Irish English involves above all the realisation of liquids /l/ and /r/. Other segments do not seem to be affected by the shift in pronunciation. Specifically, the complex area of coronal segments has not been altered to any significant extent. In addition to /ai/-retraction and back vowel raising, discussed above, one can note the following features: /au/-fronting In Dublin English, and indeed in traditional east-coast varieties of Irish English in general, the vowel in the MOUTH lexical set has a front starting point, either [æ] or [E]. A realisation as [au] is more conservative in Dublin, and in rural areas it is traditionally typical of the south-west and west of Ireland, but is being replaced by the fronted realisation in the speech of the younger generation. SOFT-lengthening Here one is again dealing with a traditional feature of Dublin English. The vowel of the LOT lexical set, when it occurs before a voiceless fricative, is lengthened. This in its turn is in keeping with the general Early Modern English lengthening of /a˘/ before such fricatives and is seen in words like staff, pass, path in southern British English (Wells 1982: 203–206). In conservative mainstream Irish English SOFT-lengthening (to use a cover term with a typical word involving this length-

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ening) is not found, but again because it is present in fashionable Dublin English, it is spreading to the rest of the country. /r/-retroflexion Traditionally, the realisation of /r/ in southern Irish English is as a velarised alveolar continuant, a pronunciation found in western and south-western varieties of Irish to this day. Thus, it can be assumed that this type of /r/ resulted in Irish English from transfer of the Irish realisation of the same phoneme. In Northern Ireland, a retroflex /r/ is to be found, a parallel with Scotland, which may well have been the source for this realisation. In current fashionable Dublin English a retroflex /r/ is also to be found, though definitely independently of the occurrence in Northern Ireland, as varieties of English there have played no role in the shaping of the speech of fashionable urbanites in Dublin. Dissociation from the traditional velarised realisation is most likely the reason for the retroflex [”] which has become so widespread throughout Ireland among younger female speakers. A slightly raised /a˘/ ([Q˘], [E˘] co-occurs with the retroflexion of the /r/ so that one has pronunciations like [kæ˘”d] for card. /l/-velarisation Traditionally, Irish English has an alveolar [l] in all syllable positions. However, the recordings for young female speakers in A Sound Atlas of Irish English (see below) overwhelmingly show a definite velarisation of /l/ in this position, e.g. field [fi˘´lÚd]. The development of [lÚ], or its adoption from other accents of English, could be seen as a reaction to the traditional alveolar [l] so long a prominent feature of Irish accents. Apart from the features described above there are others which play a minor role in the sound profile of the New Pronunciation. One obvious feature of local Dublin English which has avoided stigma and hence is found in fashionable speech in the city is the loss of /hw/ [„] in words like whale and while and which leads to mergers of pairs like which and witch. Traditionally, the occurrence of [„] in all words beginning with wh is a prominent feature of Irish English, but if the New Pronunciation establishes itself as the new supraregional form of English in the next generation then this will no longer be the case. 5.2.

English in Belfast

The area of contemporary Belfast is characterised by a conurbation which stretches along the north shore of Belfast Lough at least to Newtownabbey in County Antrim and on the south shore at least to Holywood in County Down. Along the Lagan Valley the city stretches to the south-west at least to Lisburn with a motorway to the triad of towns Lurgan, Craigavon, Portadown to the south of Lough Neagh. The Lagan Valley is the hinterland of Belfast and there is a similarity be-

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tween accents in the city and those in its hinterland to the south-west. In general, one can say that Lagan Valley speech is similar to the accents in West Belfast. The east of the city shows greater similarity with accents from rural North Down, an originally Scots area of settlement, as opposed to Lagan Valley which was settled largely by people from England. 5.2.1. Sources of Belfast English The English spoken in Belfast is an amalgam of features which come from the two main English communities in Ulster with independent traits only found in the capital city. The following is a list of features which can be clearly attributed to one of the two main English-language sources in Ulster (Milroy 1981: 25–26). Table 18.

Ulster Anglo-Irish features in Belfast English (after Milroy 1981)

Palatalisation of /k, g/ before /a/, /kjat/ for cat Dentalisation of /t, d/ before /r/, /bEt5´ / for better Lowering and unrounding of /Å/, /pAt/ for pot ME /E˘/ realised as a mid-vowel, /bE˘t/ for beat /U/ for /√/ in but, luck, etc. Lowering of /E/ to /æ/, set /sæt/ The use of /au/ before /l/ in monosyllables, /aul/ for old, also a feature of Lowland Scots. Raising of /æ/ to /E/ before velars, /bEk, bEg/ for back, bag Raising of /æ/ to /E/ after /k/ and (residually) /g/ /kEp, kEsl `/ for cap, castle Short realisations of high vowels, /bit, b¨t/ for beet, boot Lowering and sometimes centralisation of /I/, /bEt, sEns/ or /b√t, s√ns/ for bit, sense

The sociolinguistic developments in Belfast English, which were described in ground-breaking studies by James and Lesley Milroy in terms of social networks in the 1970s and early 1980s, are outside the scope of the present study, for appropriate references, consult the relevant section of Hickey (2002). Mention should also be made of the distinct intonational patterns in northern Irish English. In her study, Rahilly (1997) notes a general predominance of rises in intonation in Belfast which contrast explicitly with falls in the south of Britain. Indeed the high numbers of rising nuclei and level tails in tone sequences are regarded as typical of the Anglo-Irish group of dialects rather than the British group. Rahilly concludes that the primary cue to prominence in Belfast is a high pitch, but with much less movement than with nuclei in Received Pronunciation.

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5.3.

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English in Derry

The city of Derry has a population of over 95,000 (1991 census) and is ethnically over 70% Catholic as opposed to Belfast which has a majority Protestant population. The designation Londonderry is a variant preferred by both Ulster Protestants and British commentators and goes back to a renaming of the city when London companies were commissioned with the task of transporting English settlers there at the beginning of the 17th century. The city’s name is an Anglicisation of Irish doire ‘oakgrove’, a common name, or element of name, in the north and south of the country. There is a large degree of segregation in terms of residence for the two communities: east of the River Foyle, which divides the city, are found Protestants and west of the river is almost exclusively Catholic. The segregation increased greatly in the last 30 years because of the sectarian violence. The only research on the English of Derry city is that of McCafferty (see McCafferty 2001 as a representative example of his work), apart from one study of intonation in Derry. The city has a special status within Northern Ireland as it is on the one hand the second largest and on the other the only major city with a Catholic majority. It is understandable that it would receive innovations which arise in Belfast but also that the Catholic majority in the city might well show an inherent resistance to these. A number of changes are recorded for Derry which are listed in the following. Table 19.

Four major linguistic changes in Derry English

(1) A gradual replacement of [√] with [¨] (standard Northern Irish English [NIE]) which has been on-going in Ulster and Scotland for some time. (2) A widespread vernacular innovation originating in the east of Northern Ireland which sees older [I] replaced by [i´] in the FACE class and both of these alternating with standard [e]. (3) A vernacular innovation that appears to have originated in the east in the last hundred years by which intervocalic [D] is dropped giving a null variant. (4) A localised Derry English vernacular innovation which realises the same intervocalic [D] as a lateral [l]. Variable (√) (e) (D)

Standard NIE [¨] [e] [D]

Older General DE [√] [I] 0

Recent Local DE [¨] [i´] [l]

Lexical set PULL FACE MOTHER

McCafferty (2001) maintains that there is a tendency for the SQUARE and NURSE lexical sets to merge, a feature spreading from the east of Northern Ireland and

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typical of the Protestant middle class. For this group a lack of quantity distinction with the NORTH and FORCE lexical set is also found. The shift of older [I] to [I´] in the FACE class is taken to be characteristic of younger Protestants. Protestant changes are in general incoming innovations which are spreading from eastern Northern Ireland, i.e. from the Belfast conurbation. In this case the changes for the Protestants in Derry have arisen through a process of supraregionalisation of Belfast innovations. The only leading change among the Catholics in Derry is the shift of intervocalic [D] to a lateral [l]. The Protestants in Derry have no vernacular innovations of their own. Table 20.

Changes in Derry English according to ethnicity

Ethnic group

Source

Protestants

[o˘r] [Er] [e, I]

→ → →

[ç˘r] [´˘r] [i´]

Eastern Northern Ireland -----

Catholics

[- D -]

→

[- l -]

Local to Derry city

6.

Lexical sets for the phonological description of Irish English

Tables 21 and 22 use the lexical sets as originally introduced by John Wells in the early 1980s. Certain adaptions and extensions of Wells’ original set are necessary for the correct description of Irish English, for instance the PRICE vowel can have a different realisation before voiceless and voiced consonants. In addition the NORTH and FORCE sets must be kept separate, though increasingly with supraregional speakers in the south, a distinction is not made between the vowels in each of these words. The five columns in each table correspond to the five sound samples which accompany this chapter. 6.1.

Vocalic sets

Table 21.

Lexical sets and representative values in Irish English (vowels) Rural Northern

Popular Dublin

Fashionable Dublin

Rural South- Supraregional West/West Southern

I

I

I

I

DRESS

e  E

E

E

E

E

TRAP

a

Q

Q

Q

Q

Lexical set KIT

Irish English: phonology Table 21. (continued)

91

Lexical sets and representative values in Irish English (vowels)

Lexical set

Rural Northern

Popular Dublin

Fashionable Dublin

Rural South- Supraregional West/West Southern

LOT

Å

a

ç

a

A

STRUT

√

U

√

√_

√_

FOOT

¨

U

U

U

FLEECE

i˘

U ij´

i˘

i˘

i˘

FACE

e˘´

e˘

e˘

e˘

e˘

BATH

A(˘)

Q˘

a˘

a˘

a˘

THOUGHT

ç(˘)

a˘

ç˘, o˘

A˘

Å˘

SOFT

ç(˘)

ç˘

A

Å

GOOSE

¨(˘)

a˘ uj´

u˘

u˘

u˘

PRICE

EI

´I

AI

QI

aI

PRIDE

EI, aI

´I

AI

QI

AI

MOUTH

E¨

EU

EU

aU

aU

CHOICE

çI

aI

çI, oI

AI

ÅI

GOAT

çU, o˘

Í

´U

o˘

´U, oU

NEAR

i(˘)”

i˘()

i˘”

i˘®

i˘®

SQUARE

´(˘)”

E˘()

e˘”, O˘”

e˘

e˘

START

A(˘)”

Q˘()

A˘”

a˘

A˘

NORTH

ç(˘)”

a˘()

Å˘”, 碔

A˘

Å˘

FORCE

o(˘)”

碔, o˘”

ç˘

o˘

CURE

u(˘)”

Å˘() uj´()

u˘”,

u˘

u˘

NURSE

´(˘)”

U˘()

‘˘”, O˘”

‘˘

‘˘

COMMA

´

´, å

´

´

´

LETTER

´”

´()

´”

´

´

HAPPY

I, e

i

i

i

i

DANCE

Q, A

Q˘

a˘, (A˘)

Q˘, a˘

a˘

PATH

A

Q˘

a˘, (A˘)

Q˘, a˘

a˘

Remarks 1) The vowel values which are associated with the now unfashionable Dublin 4 accent are not shared entirely by younger fashionable Dublin English speakers.

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In particular the retraction of /a˘/, and raising of the rhotacised version /Å˘”/, is avoided so that the earlier pronunciation of Dart as [d碔t / do˘”t] is regarded as “uncool”. 2) The vowel transcribed as [√_] is a variant which is somewhat more centralised than the corresponding [√] vowel found in supraregional varieties. 3) The realisation [O˘”] in the SQUARE lexical set can be interpreted as a deliberate reaction to the very open, unrounded realisation of population Dublin English, [e:()]. 4) Popular Dublin English is weakly rhotic and early conservative forms of this variety are often entirely non-rhotic. 5) There is a complex distribution of low vowels in northern Irish English. Basically one can say that a front and raised vowel is found before velars and a  retracted variant before labials and nasals, giving pronunciations like bag [b g] and family [
fAmlI]. 6.2.

Consonantal sets

Wells’ lexical sets were designed to deal with the vowel distinctions found in Received Pronunciation. They do not handle consonants. For that reason new sets are necessary for the current discussion. A number of key words have been chosen and the consonant which is at issue in each case is underlined as can be seen from Table 22. Table 22.

Lexical sets and representative values in Irish English (consonants)

Lexical set

Rural Northern

Popular Dublin

Fashionable Rural South- Supraregional Dublin West/West Southern

THIN

T

t

t5

t

t5

BREATHE TWO

D t

d t

d6 t, ts

d t

d5 t

WATER

R, /, Ø

/h

Rt

t

R, t

GET

t|, /

h, Ø

t

Ø

l, lÚ

lÚ



t

FEEL



t

l

l, lÚ

SORE WET

” w

®, Ø w

” w

® w

®, ” w

WHICH

w

„

w

„

„, w









Remarks 1) The distinction between dental and alveolar stops is sociolinguistically significant in Ireland. All speakers can hear this difference clearly and the use of alveolar for dental stops in the THIN and THIS lexical sets is highly stigmatised.

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2) Fashionable Dublin English speakers may have a slight afflication of syllableinitial /t-/, as in two [tsu˘]. 3) The allophony of syllable-coda and intersyllabic /t/ is quite complicated. With conservative supraregional speakers the apico-alveolar fricative [t] is found.  English With younger supraregional speakers a flap occurs. In popular Dublin the lenition of /t/ continues through a glottal stop to /h/ and frequently to zero, especially in word-final position. In many forms of northern Irish English, final alveolar stops may be unreleased. 4) The merger of [w] and [„] is increasingly frequent with supraregional speakers so that word pairs like which and witch now consist of homophones. 5) It is merely a coincidence that fashionable Dublin English shares a flap and a retroflex /r/ with northern Irish English.

7.

Data sources for Irish English phonology

In the recent history of Irish English studies there have been two incomplete surveys of English in Ireland. The first was initiated by P. L. Henry and preliminary findings were published in 1958 (see Henry 1958). Nothing more was heard of the project, but the material presented is of value for the study of Irish English up to that date. The second survey is called The Tape-Recorded Survey of Hiberno-English Speech and was supervised by Michael Barry, then of the English Department at Queen’s University, Belfast. A large amount of material was collected, particularly for the north and approximately 50% of this material, which by a fortunate circumstance was given to the present author in the mid 1980s, has been digitised and is available as two CDs from the present author. The material comes with a software interface to examine the data of the survey which in this form consists of some 80 files (approximately 22 hours of recording). The survey includes both wordlists and free speech. The Irish English Resource Centre is a website dedicated to all matters pertaining to academic research into Irish English. It is maintained by the present author at the following address: http://www.uni-essen.de/IERC. The resource centre as it stands contains much information on past and current research on Irish English, an online history and overview of Irish English, summaries of issues in the field, biosketches of scholars, details of various corpora and data collections, links to related sites, etc. Importantly, it contains much bibliographical information of use to interested scholars and students. The website is updated regularly with new information as this becomes available. It is intended as a primary source for upto-date data on topical research into Irish English which can be used liberally by scholars and students alike.

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A Sound Atlas of Irish English (Hickey 2005) is a set of over 1,500 recordings of Irish English from the entire country covering urban and rural informants with an age spread from under 10 to over 80 (both genders). A supplied software interface allows end-users to view the recordings in a tree divided by province and county and then listen to individual recordings. The recordings can also be sorted by county, age, gender and rural versus urban speakers. Five of these recordings are available on the accompanying CD-ROM.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Adams, George Brendan 1958 The emergence of Ulster as a distinct dialect area. Ulster Folklife 4: 61–73. 1965 Materials for a language map of 17th century Ireland. Ulster Dialect Archive Bulletin 4: 15–30. Bliss, Alan J. 1976 The English language in early modern Ireland. In: Terry W. Moody, Francis X. Martin and Francis J. Byrne (eds.), Early Modern Ireland, 1534-1691, 546– 560. Oxford: Clarendon. 1977 The emergence of modern English dialects in Ireland. In: Diarmaid Ó Muirithe (ed.), The English Language in Ireland, 7–19. Dublin/Cork: Mercier Press. Dolan, Terence P. 1998 A Dictionary of Hiberno-English. The Irish Use of English. Dublin: Gill and Macmillan. Harris, John 1984 Syntactic variation and dialect divergence. Journal of Linguistics 20: 303– 327. Henry, Patrick Leo 1958 A linguistic survey of Ireland. Preliminary report. Norsk Tidsskrift for Sprogvidenskap [Lochlann, A Review of Celtic Studies] Supplement 5: 49– 208. Heuser, Wilhelm Die Kildare-Gedichte. Die ältesten mittelenglischen Denkmäler in anglo1904 irischer Überlieferung. Bonn: Hanstein. Hickey, Raymond The beginnings of Irish English. Folia Linguistica Historica 14: 213–238. 1993 1995 An assessment of language contact in the development of Irish English. In: Jacek Fisiak (ed.), Linguistic Change under Contact Conditions, 109–130. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. 1999 Dublin English: Current changes and their motivation. In: Foulkes and Docherty (eds.), 265–281.

Irish English: phonology 2002 2003

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A Source Book for Irish English. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Corpus Presenter. Processing Software for Language Analysis. Including A Corpus of Irish English. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Hogan, James Jeremiah 1927 The English Language in Ireland. Dublin: Educational Company of Ireland. Lucas, Angela (ed.) 1995 Anglo-Irish Poems of the Middle Ages. Dublin: Columba Press. McCafferty, Kevin Ethnicity and Language Change. English in (London)Derry, Northern Ireland. 2001 Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Moody, Theodore W., Francis X. Martin and Francis J. Byrne (eds) 1976 A New History of Ireland, Volume III: Early Modern Ireland (1534–1691). Oxford: Clarendon Press. Ní Chasaide, Ailbhe 1979 Laterals in Gaoth-Dobhair Irish and Hiberno-English. In: Donall Ó Baoill (ed.), Papers in Celtic Phonology, 54–78. Coleraine: New University of Ulster. Ó Baoill, Dónall 1991 Contact phenomena in the phonology of Irish and English in Ireland. In: P. Sture Ureland and George Broderick (eds.), Language Contact in the British Isles. Proceedings of the Eighth International Symposium on Language Contact in Europe, 581–595. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Ó Muirithe, Diarmuid Dictionary of Anglo-Irish. Words and Phrases from Irish. Dublin: Four Courts 1996 Press. Rahilly, Joan 1997 Aspects of prosody in Hiberno-English: the case of Belfast. In: Jeffrey L. Kallen (ed.), Focus on Ireland, 109–132. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Sheridan, Thomas 1781 A Rhetorical Grammar of the English Language Calculated Solely for the Purpose of Teaching Propriety of Pronunciation and Justness of Delivery, in that Tongue. Dublin: Price. Stenson, Nancy 1991 Code-switching vs. borrowing in modern Irish. In: P. Sture Ureland and George Broderick (eds.), Language Contact in the British Isles. Proceedings of the Eighth International Symposium on Language Contact in Europe, 559– 579. Tübingen: Niemeyer.

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Map of chief dialectal divisions in Ireland Comments The south of Ireland can be divided into two broad dialect regions. The first and oldest is the east coast dialect area which stretches from Waterford up to beyond Dublin, probably as far as Dundalk in its original extension before 1600. The second area is that of the south-west and west and is the part of the country which was latest to engage in the language shift from Irish to English. Indeed for a few small pockets on the western seaboard, in Kerry, Connemara and Donegal, the Irish language has not died out yet. In the centre and north-central part of the country there is a diffuse and dialectally indeterminate Midlands region which extends from southern Offaly and Laois up to Cavan and south Leitrim. Between Sligo in the west and Dundalk in the east there is a broad transitional band which shows a mixture of southern and northern features (see discussions above). The north of Ireland consists of the counties of Ulster and can be divided into a large central region, that of Mid-Ulster English, and a ‘Coastal Crescent’ run-

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ning from Co. Down, south-east of Belfast, up to Antrim in the extreme north-east, through Co. Derry and across to the north-east of Donegal (but excluding the city of Derry). This area is that of strongest Scottish settlement and hence it represents Ulster Scots in its most original form (there are also some other smaller areas, such as north Co. Armagh). In the west of Donegal, contact forms of Ulster English are spoken.

Map of provinces and counties in Ireland There are thirty two counties in present-day Ireland distributed in somewhat uneven fashion across four provinces. The counties vary in size, Cork and Galway being the largest, Louth and Carlow the smallest. The population of counties depends on whether they contain large towns or cities. Some counties, like Leitrim and Clare do not, while other have an associated town or city, e.g. Limerick, Cork, Wexford, etc. The province of Ulster contains nine counties, six of which are within the borders of Northern Ireland, formed on the partition of Ireland in 1921. There is a limited presence of Ulster Scots speech outside of Northern Ireland, in the Lagan district of north-west Donegal. Features of northern speech spread much further southwards than previously thought as attested by A Sound Atlas of Irish English (see remarks above).

Welsh English: phonology Robert Penhallurick

1.

Cultural and socio-historical background

The longer-standing language of Wales is Welsh, belonging to the Celtic branch of the Indo-European family. In pre-Roman times, Celtic speakers were dispersed over most of western Europe, but during the age of the Roman Empire Celtic appears to have been pushed to the peripheries, with two branches developing: Goidelic or Q Celtic, and Brittonic or P Celtic, to which Welsh belongs. The arrival of Angles, Saxons and other Germanic-speaking tribes in Britain from the fifth century onwards exerted a pressure on Welsh which continues to the present day. Celtic speakers were driven into the area now known as Wales, thereafter to be subject to a long process of anglicization. At the end of the eighth century AD, a physical boundary was constructed to mark the political separation of the nascent England and Wales, in the shape of Offa’s Dyke, a linear earthwork running north/south for some 130 kilometres from the River Dee to the Severn Estuary. It was constructed by Offa, king of Mercia, to indicate the western boundary of his territory. Aitchison and Carter (2000: 24) point out that whilst the construction of Offa’s Dyke should not be understood as marking a firm divide between Welsh and English speakers, it does serve “as a base line from which to chart the slow and complex westward retreat of the Welsh language”, or to put it another way, the inexorable advance of English to all parts of Wales. The first major incursions of English came in the wake of the Norman invasion of Wales, which began towards the end of the eleventh century AD. The Normans established strongholds through the north and south, and English speakers arrived in numbers. The areas most affected were the lower-lying borders with England, and substantial parts of south Wales, with perhaps the most interesting developments occurring in the Gower Peninsula and south Pembrokeshire. Here, dialects of Welsh English influenced by the south-west of England existed from the twelfth century onwards, brought about it seems by population movement across the Bristol Channel from Somerset and Devon. Anglicization down the centuries was aided by events which boosted the status of English and lowered that of Welsh. Under the Acts of Union of 1536–1543, English was made the sole language of government and law in Wales. Aitchison and Carter (2000: 27) state that although this “formally abstracted a domain of use from Welsh which had effectively been lost long before”, it also meant that “[i]f

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Welsh were not to be used in a significant formal context then it meant, too, that its use in informal contexts would diminish”. They add: Inevitably, if the Welsh gentry wished to participate in public life then that participation would be in English and the language of polite society, if such it can be called, would also be English. There followed the conviction that Welsh was the language of the barbarous past, English the language of the civilized future. (Aitchison and Carter 2000: 27)

Aitchison and Carter here probably borrow from the (at least in Wales) well-known editorial of The Times of 8 September 1866 which argued that the “antiquated and semi-barbarous” Welsh language, together with ignorance of the English language, was responsible for the exclusion of the Welsh people “from the civilization, the improvement and the material prosperity of their English neighbours”. Certainly, higher prestige (further enhanced by the education system during the second half of the nineteenth century and first half of the twentieth especially) and increasing incoming speaker numbers (from the Industrial Revolution onwards) helped establish English as a language of the whole of Wales by the second half of the twentieth century. Census statistics show large increases in the numbers of monolingual and bilingual English speakers in Wales during the twentieth century, and the extinction of monolingual Welsh speakers. However, none of this has led to the demise of the Welsh language. Even in the areas subject to the earliest anglicization, Welsh-speaking persisted for centuries, and although its traditional geographical heartlands continue to shrink, up until the end of the twentieth century Welsh remained the first language in much of rural Wales (in the north-west, west midlands and south-west). The concerted attempt in recent decades to promote the use of Welsh, in particular through expanding the availability of Welsh-medium education, has apparently led to positive news for the language’s supporters in the most recent statistics, but arguably what lies ahead for Welsh is a process of ‘Latinization’, in which its use becomes restricted to a decreasing number of social domains as its traditional regional dialects decline. These regional dialects in particular have had the greatest influence overall on the special character of English in Wales. As noted in Penhallurick (1993: 33), there are notable differences between the traditional Welsh dialects of north and south Wales, in phonology, lexis and grammar. These differences are mirrored to a degree, more so in pronunciation, in spoken English. Thus it is possible to talk of two main types of Welsh English, one centred in the north-west, the other in the mid-south. In these main northern and southern sub-varieties, non-standard features tend to be derived from Welsh-language influence. But there are other determining factors, such as influence from the neighbouring non-standard dialects (rural and urban) of England, particularly but not exclusively in the border areas, south Pembrokeshire and Gower. As for the term Welsh English, it has not been the universal label of choice. At the outset of the only national survey of spoken English in Wales, David Parry

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chose the term Anglo-Welsh for the varieties used by elderly English-speaking Welsh people. In addition, Welsh English has the potential to arouse nationalist sensibilities. As Coupland and Thomas (1989: 2) noted: the language question in Wales is sufficiently highly charged that some might infer that even to pay analytic attention to English in Wales, or ‘Welsh English’ [...] represents an ideological position, perhaps even a form of capitulation, or collusion with the forces threatening the Welsh language.

My view, briefly, is that English is a thoroughly established language of Wales, a language used by and belonging to the Welsh people – not that they have sole ownership of it, of course. My only anxiety over using the umbrella Welsh English could apply equally to other similar labels: that it masks diversity (that is, of English in Wales) and connections (between English inside and English outside Wales).

2.

The phonological system

The most comprehensive collection of Welsh English data is in the archives of the Survey of Anglo-Welsh Dialects (henceforth SAWD) at the Department of English, University of Wales Swansea. Under the directorship of David Parry, material was collected in rural areas of Wales between 1968 and 1982 (cf. Parry 1977–1979, 1999), and in urban areas between 1985 and 1987. SAWD is the chief source of the present chapter, which aims to provide an overview of Welsh English phonology, focussing on traditional, rural Welsh English. Use will be made, in particular, of the analysis and description attempted in David Parry’s A Grammar and Glossary of the Conservative Anglo-Welsh Dialects of Rural Wales (1999). Parry (1999) attempts a general phonemicization for Welsh English based on the rural data, drawn from the 60-plus age-group, which can be presented as follows: Short vowels: /I E a √ ç U/ Long vowels: /i: e: E: œ: a: ç: o: u:/ Diphthongs: /Iu ai au çi o´ i´/ Unstressed vowels: /i ´ I/ Consonants: /p b t d k g f v T D ¬ s z S Z x h tS dZ m n N l w j r/ Table 1 maps this broad phonemicization against the lexical set. STAY and SNOW are included for comparison with FACE and GOAT respectively, and highlight a tricky area in the phonemicization. In Table 1, the vowels for STAY and SNOW are not given phonemic status, in order to remain consistent with the system above. However, discussion of alternative analyses and the status of the vowels in FACE/ STAY and GOAT/SNOW can be found in section 2.1. below.

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The remainder of the chapter discusses the phonological system in detail, including realizations of the vowel phonemes and significant regional variations (under headings from the lexical set), followed by a description of noteworthy consonantal and prosodic features. Table 1. Traditional rural Welsh English vowels KIT

I

DRESS

E

TRAP

a

LOT

ç

STRUT

√

ONE

√~ç

FOOT

U

BATH

a ~ a˘

CLOTH

ç

NURSE

œ˘

FLEECE

i˘

FACE

e˘

STAY

[ei]

GOAT

o:

SNOW

[ou]

PALM

a˘

THOUGHT

ç˘

GOOSE

u˘

PRICE

ai

CHOICE

ç

MOUTH

au

SQUARE

E˘

START

a˘

NORTH

ç˘

FORCE

ç˘

BOAR

o´

CURE

(I)uw´

POWER

auw´

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Table 1. (continued) Traditional rural Welsh English vowels FIRE

aij´

NEAR

i´

EARS

œ˘ ~ i´

TUESDAY

Iu

happY

i˘

lettER

´~√

horsES

I

commA

´~√

2.1.

Stressed vowels

KIT

The realization of KIT words throughout Wales is [I]. DRESS

Similarly, the realization of DRESS is [E]. TRAP

Through most of Wales the realization of TRAP is [a], but in mid Wales, where the county of Powys borders with the English counties of Shropshire and Hereford, a raised [Q] or even [E] is recorded. A long [a˘] is also recorded very sporadically. LOT

The chief realization in LOT words is [ç], though [Å] is also recorded frequently, more so in the north than in the south. Some words which have the LOT vowel in RP but an in their spelling, such as quarry, wash, and wasps, may have [a ~ Q] in Welsh English. Such forms are recorded in all regions. In Welsh-speaking areas they might be spelling pronunciations influenced by Welsh-language conventions (orthographic is pronounced [wa] in Welsh), but such [a ~ Q] vowels were also recorded widely by the Survey of English Dialects. STRUT

In STRUT there is a marked tendency to a vowel raised and centralized compared with RP /√/, even to the extent that [´] is a common variant. There is also variation in unstressed syllables between [√] and [´]. Wells (1982: 380) speaks of the “STRUTSchwa Merger” in Welsh English, that is to say, the lack of phonemic distinction between /√/ and /´/. Parry (1999: 15) opts for /√/ as the phonemic designation for

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STRUT vowels (rather than /´/), which can be justified on grounds of frequency of occurrence, but he adds the rider that [√] in his STRUT group is “most commonly a raised and centralized Cardinal Vowel 14”. The Welsh language has no /√/ phoneme, but it does have /´/, and this may be behind both the centralizing tendency in STRUT and the blurring or even erasing of distinction between /√/ and /´/ (cf. also section 2.2. below on unstressed vowels). In addition, it should be noted that occasionally the realization of the STRUT vowel strays into [a] territory, as recorded in Parry (1999: 15) in butter, furrow, uncle. These instances are few and are mainly restricted to the north and mid Wales border with England. Also, [U] can occur in STRUT words, and is recorded, interestingly, in the northeast corner and the south-west corner. The north-east occurrences can be readily explained by the presence of the well-known northern English [U] in STRUT in neighbouring Cheshire. The south-west occurrences, mainly in south Pembrokeshire, an area subject to anglicizing influences since the twelfth century, are more mysterious. One could presume that they result from historical connections with south-west England, but as Parry (1999: 18) points out, there is only a small amount of evidence of [U] in STRUT words in the traditional accents of Cornwall, Devon and Somerset.

ONE

Wells (1982: 362) notes that one and other words (for example, none, nothing), which have /√/ in RP and an in their spelling, have /Å/ as their stressed vowel across a wide band of the mid-north of England. Similarly, in Wales ONE words sometimes fall in with the LOT group, though more frequently they belong with STRUT. ONE with [ç ~ Å] is associated with the traditional Welsh-speaking areas of north and west Wales, where it may result from Welsh-influenced spelling pronunciation, and also with the north and mid border with England and the long-anglicized areas of south Pembrokeshire and the Gower Peninsula, to where it may have travelled from the accents of the north-west, west and south-west of England. As with STRUT, [U] can occur in ONE words. The details in Parry (1999: 18) indicate that [U] occurs less frequently in ONE than in STRUT, but as with STRUT there is an association with the north-east and south-west corners of Wales. FOOT

By far the most widespread realization of FOOT words is [U]. Very rarely, in the north, unrounded [F] is recorded. There are also instances of ‘hypercorrect’ [√] in FOOT words, recorded in Parry (1999: 16) in the north-west, eastern mid Wales, and the south-west. The instances that occur in Welsh-speaking areas, in the northwest and south-west, are all of FOOT words with orthographic (bull, butcher, put), and these might conceivably be spelling pronunciations. The instances elsewhere (eastern mid Wales, the south-west corner) might in most cases be linked with traditional [√]-forms in west and south-west of England accents.

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BATH

In BATH words there is competition between the short forms [a ~ Q] and long forms [a˘ ~ Q˘ ~ A˘], with [a] the most common realization, occurring in all regions. Of the long realizations, [a˘] is also fairly common, whilst [A˘] is less so, though it too is not regionally restricted. Wells states that “[t]he situation in the BATH words is not altogether clear” (1982: 387), and the same could be said now that SAWD material for the whole of rural Wales has been made available. Nevertheless, Parry’s (1999: 214) phonemic map for chaff shows /a/ dominating, with a few instances of /a˘/ in the mid- and south-eastern border areas. His phonetic map for draught (Parry 1999: 217) shows a similar distribution of [a] and [a˘], with one significant difference: an area dominated by [a˘] in the north-west corner of Wales. The general picture (as Wells concluded) seems to be of confrontation between a non-standard short /a/ and a standard-influenced long /a˘/, with the short vowel more than holding its own. However, whilst it is clearly sensible to differentiate between two phonemes here (a short and a long), this is one of those areas in Welsh English phonology where there is fluidity, as indicated also by the sporadic occurrence of the long vowel in TRAP words. On the other hand, it is likely that variation between the short and long forms can be correlated to some extent with register and social class. CLOTH

Parry (1999: 24–25) shows a scattering of long [ç˘] realizations in CLOTH words, the majority in mid-Wales, but overall the pattern is similar to LOT, with [ç] the main realization, and [Å] common also. NURSE

A realization of NURSE identified with the southern region of Welsh English is the long, rounded, centralized-front, half-open [ø˘]. There is no ready explanation for this realization, although it may mark an intermediate stage between Welsh English stressed /´/ + /r/ and RP (the NURSE group is one of several subject to rhoticity in Welsh English – see /r/ in section 3 below). Parry (1999: 21) shows that this realization is not exclusive to the south, but occurs throughout Wales. However, its main competitor, /´˘/, which is also widespread, is notably absent from the mid-south-east (that is, the Rhondda Valleys), the area associated in the public mind with [ø˘]. FLEECE

The dominant realization is [i˘], though [i´], that is, realizations with a glide to the centre, are recorded (Parry 1999: 32), mainly in more strongly Welsh-speaking regions in mid-Wales. FACE/STAY and GOAT/SNOW The regional patterning of two characteristic sounds of Welsh English, the long monophthongs [e˘] and [o˘], is complex. They occur in both the main northern

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and southern areas in words such as bacon, break, great, make (FACE) and coal, road, spoke, toe (GOAT) respectively. In these cases, the monophthongs can be regarded as phonemic, but overall their distribution is complicated by their occurrence also in words such as clay, drain, weigh, whey (STAY) and cold, shoulder, snow (SNOW). In STAY and SNOW, it is difficult to argue that the monophthongs are phonemic, for in these groups diphthongs, [ei] and [ou], are more likely. In addition, diphthongal forms can occur in FACE and GOAT. Table 2 summarizes the situation for the whole of Wales, outlining the competition between monophthongs and diphthongs in FACE, STAY, GOAT, and SNOW. [e˘] occurs most commonly in FACE, being dominant (in these words) in the north and south, and in the northern peripheries. [ei] in FACE is dominant only in the southern peripheries. In STAY, however, the diphthong is prevalent throughout the south, whilst the monophthong is dominant in the north. The sequence is the same for the [o˘] – [ou] pair: the monophthong is dominant in GOAT everywhere but the southern peripheries, and in SNOW the diphthong dominates in the south, the monophthong in the north. Table 2.

Regional distribution of FACE/STAY and GOAT/SNOW vowels (table lists only regions where one variant dominates) [e˘]

[ei]

GOAT

southern north, peripheries south, northern peripheries north south, southern peripheries -------

SNOW

----

FACE

STAY

----

[o˘]

[ou]

----

----

----

----

north, south, northern peripheries north

southern peripheries

south, southern peripheries

A number of processes have produced this pattern. Firstly, the Welsh language has no diphthongs of the /ei/ and /ou/ types, and the Welsh monophthongs /e˘/ and /o˘/ have exerted an influence in Welsh English over words which have /eI/ and /oU/ in RP. Running counter to this are spelling pronunciations affecting STAY and SNOW, leading to the diphthongal forms, the general rules being: spellings with , , , encourage [ei], and spellings with , encourage [ou], with spellings falling in with SNOW rather than GOAT. Furthermore, there has been

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influence from neighbouring accents of English English: [e˘] and [o˘] have been reinforced in the north of Wales by the influence of monophthongs occurring in the north-west of England; [ei] and [ou] have been supported by the diphthongs of the west and south-west of England, as well as those of RP, of course. It is worth emphasizing that Table 2 simplifies a fluid situation. For example, the accents of particular localities or even individuals exhibit register-sensitive movement between monophthongal and diphthongal types, especially in the FACE and GOAT groups. Table 2 also simplifies the overall regional pattern: we can note here, for example, that neither monophthong nor diphthong dominates in STAY and SNOW in the northern peripheries. PALM

There is some evidence from SAWD that PALM words are subject to the same competition between short [a] and long [a˘] that occurs in BATH and, to a lesser extent, in TRAP. Parry’s phonetic map for calf (1999: 216), for example, shows a sizeable area in Carmarthenshire and north Pembrokeshire dominated by the short realization. However, through the rest of Wales a long vowel dominates and, furthermore, across mid Wales and in the area surrounding Swansea this long vowel is a back [A˘]. The short forms recorded for calf are probably not typical of PALM words, in which the main contest is between non-standard front [a˘] and RP-style back [A˘]. THOUGHT

The dominant realization in THOUGHT words is [ç˘], with, however, a significant sprinkling of r-coloured versions recorded (Parry 1999: 25) along the south-eastern border and in south Pembrokeshire, perhaps under the influence of west of England accents. For example, the Survey of English Dialects records r-colouring in saw-dust, slaughter, straw in Shropshire and Warwickshire. GOOSE

The dominant realization in GOOSE is [u˘], although short [U] is also recorded in certain words, especially tooth. Parry’s map of tooth (1999: 229) shows the short form covering the majority of Wales, with the exception of most of the north and a pocket in the south-west corner. In other GOOSE words used by Parry (goose, hoof, root, stool), the short form is more sporadic. PRICE, CHOICE, MOUSE

Common to these three groups is a very close final element in the diphthong: [i] in PRICE and CHOICE, [u] in MOUSE. The first element in PRICE and MOUSE tends also to be very open: [a]. There is, however, a major counter-tendency in PRICE and MOUSE, that is, for a central [´] to be used as the first element. Indeed, Wells (1982: 385) talks tentatively of the possibility of a phonemic distinction between [ai] and [´i], and between [au] and [´u], although this does seem unlikely. SAWD

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data shows a pretty clear regional distribution, with [´I] and [´u] restricted to the main southern, especially south-eastern, areas. Tench’s (1989: 141) view is that this variation in PRICE and MOUTH diphthongs tells us something about the chronology of English spoken in Wales: diphthongs with central first elements indicate areas where English was spoken relatively early, while diphthongs with open first elements indicate the more recent arrival of English. SQUARE, START, NORTH, FORCE, BOAR

The main point of interest in each of these groups is rhoticity, to which all are subject. An outline of types of rhoticity and their regional distribution is given in section 3 below. However, whilst the situation varies from word to word, it is nonrhotic forms that have the upper hand in terms of frequency of occurrence. Also worth noting in START is competition between front [a˘] forms and back [A˘] forms, with front realizations dominating in SAWD data. Parry’s (1999: 215) phonetic map for arm shows only pockets of back realizations in the south-west and mid borders (cf. BATH in section 2.1. above). There is a notable tendency also for a raised [o˘] realization to occur in BOAR words. CURE, POWER, FIRE

Of interest in these groups is their tendency to be firmly disyllabic, with /w/ separating the syllables in CURE and POWER, and /j/ separating them in FIRE. The first syllable in CURE tends towards the /Iu/ found in TUESDAY; the first syllable in POWER exhibits the variation between [au] and [´u] found in MOUTH; and the first syllable in FIRE falls in with the division between [ai] and [´i] found in PRICE. In their final syllable, all three tend towards an [√] realization (cf. section 2.2. below). NEAR, EARS

Two points to note here: a sporadic rhoticity (r-colouring) in both groups in south Pembrokeshire, Gower, and the borders; and a strong tendency for EARS to have an initial /j/ followed either by [ø˘] (as in NURSE, above) or [´˘]. This latter feature, especially as [jø˘], is prevalent throughout south Wales except for pockets in the west. TUESDAY In TUESDAY words we find a Welsh English phoneme, /Iu/. This phoneme is re-

corded in the overwhelming majority of SAWD localities. It is found also in the CURE group. As both Parry (1999: 28) and Walters (2003: 76) note, it is likely that

there are two separate sources for this /Iu/: one is influence from Welsh-language /Iu/ (represented in ordinary orthography by ), which probably lies behind /Iu/ in Welsh English in most regions; the other is influence from similar diph-

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thongs occurring in west of England accents, which probably lies behind the forms recorded in the south-east border regions. 2.2.

Unstressed vowels

Walters (2003: 74), referring to Rhondda Valleys English (south Wales), reports that “the vowel in the final unstressed syllables of butter, sofa etc. is characteristically lengthened and with a fuller quality than normally ascribed to schwa”, which he attributes to Welsh-language influence, “which has a single central vowel and in which final unstressed syllables are said never to be reduced to schwa”. The data in Parry (1999: 34–35) corroborates this to some extent: [√] is shown as a widespread realization in the lettER group, but occurring in most other parts of Wales as well as in the south-east. Its chief competitors are [‘] and [E ~ Er], which occur chiefly in the long-anglicized areas of south Pembrokeshire, Gower, and the borders. However, we should remember that the “single central vowel” of Welsh is actually schwa, and in the STRUT group above (section 2.1.) there is a considerable trend towards a central vowel. Thus whilst both STRUT and lettER exhibit variation between [√] and [´] types, in STRUT the movement is towards schwa, in lettER the movement is away from schwa. Also worth noting is the widespread tendency in happY for the final unstressed vowel to be very close and, according to Parry (1999: 36), long. 2.3.

Pharyngalization

Just as, for example, [œ˘] in NURSE is particularly associated with southern Welsh English in popular opinion, so too is a certain ‘throatiness’ associated with northern Welsh English. This ‘throatiness’ is actually pharyngalization, that is, contraction of the pharyngeal arches. Jones (1984: 57) has noted that pharyngalization affects the articulation of the two high central vowels of northern Welsh, but Penhallurick (1991) records it with many Welsh English vowels in the traditional Welshspeaking areas of west and central north Wales (Anglesey, Gwynedd, Conwy and Denbighshire). In Penhallurick (1991: 34–95), the only unaffected Welsh English vowels are the most open ones. […] tends also to be pharyngalized in northern Welsh English, as mentioned in section 3 below.

3.

Consonants

Strong aspiration of /p, t, k/ In north Wales, strong aspiration (which sometimes approaches affrication) affects the voiceless plosives /p, t, k/, particularly in word-initial and word-final positions. This strong aspiration is exceptionally prominent in the north, but Parry (1999:

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37–38) notes that throughout Wales each voiceless plosive “normally has strong aspiration in initial stressed position, and often finally before a pause”. Dental /t, d, n/ In mid Wales and especially in the north (where they are the norm), dental realizations of /t, d, n/ occur. In the Welsh language, /t, d, n/ tend to have dental realizations in northern accents, and presumably Welsh-derived sound-substitution lies behind dental /t, d, n/ in northern Welsh English. Such dental realizations are infrequent elsewhere in Welsh English. Unvoicing of /d/ and /z/ Parry (1999: 37) records the very occasional use of [t] finally in cold, second, which he links to certain English loanwords in Welsh in which final /ld/ becomes /lt/, and final /nd/ becomes /nt/ (for example, golt “gold”, diamwnt “diamond”). Also, in traditional Welsh-speaking regions in the north-west and west-to-southwest, there is a considerable tendency to use [s] for RP /z/ in word-medial and word-final positions, for example, in thousand, and cheese. This again can be explained by influence from the Welsh language, which has no /z/, although the phoneme can occur in loanwords from English. Should these cases of ‘unvoicing’ in Welsh English, when compared with RP phonology, be treated as phonemic substitution (/t/ for /d/, and /s/ for /z/), or as variant realizations (of /d/, and /z/)? The decision is not altogether straightforward. Given the evident phonotactic constraints, the latter analysis is perhaps tidier. However, the apparent underlying cause (originating in the Welsh language) is phonemic. Initial fricative voicing Parry (1999: 39) records the use of initial /v/ where RP has initial /f/ in first, four, furrow in south-eastern Powys, Monmouthshire, south Pembrokeshire and in south Gower. He also records one instance of /D/ for /T/ in third in west Powys (Parry 1999: 40). Such Initial Fricative Voicing, as Wells (1982: 343) calls it, is associated with west-country accents of England, where traditionally it can affect /f, T, s, S/. Penhallurick (1994: 145–148) provides evidence of voicing of initial /f, s/ in the southern half of the Gower Peninsula from the seventeenth century to the late twentieth century, though by the 1980s it was very much a relic feature in Gower English. Where it occurs, or has occurred, in Welsh English, Initial Fricative Voicing is no doubt due to longstanding influence from west English English. /¬, x/ These two fricatives belong to the sound system of the Welsh language, in which they are represented orthographically by and respectively. Excepting place-names, they each have a very limited occurrence in traditional Welsh Eng-

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lish, in loanwords from Welsh, such as cawellt ‘wicker basket’ and crochon ‘breadbasket’. /l/ The detail of the distribution of clear [l] and dark […] in Welsh English is rather intricate, but the data from SAWD permits the following summary. In the south and midlands of Wales, [l] dominates in all phonetic environments. In the north, particularly in Gwynedd, […] dominates in all positions. The peripheral, historically anglicized regions follow RP, with [l] before a vowel, and […] before a consonant or pause. This Welsh English pattern is influenced by the Welsh language, in which /l/ is clear in southern Welsh and noticeably dark in northern Welsh, where it is accompanied by strong pharyngalization. Thus /l/ provides two of the popular diagnostics of Welsh English: dark, pharyngalized […] in all positions for the main northern variety, and clear [l] in all positions for the main southern variety. Dropping of initial /w/ Initial /w/ is foreign to Welsh as an unmutated form (several consonants in Welsh are subject to mutation rules in word-initial position), and influence from this may lie behind the occasional dropping of initial /w/ in traditional Welsh English, particularly in words with a following back, close, rounded stressed vowel, such as woman, wool. Parry (1999: 40–41) records zero-/w/ initially in these words scattered through north, mid and south Wales, though forms with initial /w/ are dominant overall. /r/ The Welsh language has two r phonemes: a voiced alveolar rolled /r/, which is sometimes realized as a flap [R] and sometimes, particularly in the Bala area, north Wales, as a uvular rolled [{] or uvular fricative [“]; and a voiceless alveolar rolled /r8/ ( in ordinary orthography). Welsh /r8/ impacts little on Welsh English, but rolled [r] realizations occur often in the spoken English of north and south Wales, excepting the border areas, and the Gower Peninsula and south Pembrokeshire, where an approximant [®] dominates. There is also a high frequency of flapped [R] in Welsh English, particularly in traditional Welsh-speaking areas, and this can be interpreted as further evidence of Welsh influence on Welsh English /r/. Uvular realizations of Welsh English /r/ are confined to the north, where they are rare and possibly usually idiolectal. Orthographic r is always articulated in the Welsh language, in all word-positions, and this practice is carried over at times into Welsh English, resulting in post-vocalic /r/ word-medially and word-finally in the north and the south, this rhoticity being centred in the traditional Welsh-speaking areas in the west half of Wales. This Welsh-influenced rhoticity in NURSE, SQUARE, START, NORTH, FORCE, BOAR sometimes leads to a short vowel followed by /r/ (Parry 1999: 14–17), such

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as: /√r/ in first, third, work in western mid Wales; /Er/ in heard (a spelling pronunciation) and in chair, mare, pears in pockets in the west; /ar ~ Ar/ in arm, farmer, farthing in the west; /çr/ in forks, morning and in boar, four a few times in north, mid and west Wales. Occasionally the short vowel minus following /r/ is recorded. Rhotic forms with long vowels are common in NURSE, SQUARE, START, NORTH, FORCE, BOAR, with the general pattern as follows: long vowel followed by /r/ (that is, forms influenced by the Welsh pronunciation convention of always articulating orthographic r), widespread in the western half of Wales; long r-coloured vowel without a following /r/ (that is, forms influenced by west of England accents), occurring in the mid- and south-eastern border areas, and in south Pembrokeshire and the Gower Peninsula. Lengthened consonants The consonants /p, b, t, d, k, g, v, T, s, S, tS, m, n, N, l/ are all recorded by Parry (1999: 37–40) as being subject to lengthened duration of pronunciation in Welsh English, when located in word-medial position. Parry records these lengthened forms in most parts of Wales. In the Welsh language, medial consonants tend to be long, especially between vowels when the preceding vowel is stressed. The most likely cause for these lengthened consonants in Welsh English is therefore once again influence from Welsh. However, it should be noted that SAWD data shows lengthening affecting medial consonants when followed by a consonant as well as when followed by a vowel (for example, [m˘] in thimble). Furthermore, many instances occur in the more anglicized regions of Wales.

4.

Prosody

Wells (1982: 392) notes: “Popular English views about Welsh accents include the claim that they have a ‘sing-song’ or lilting intonation”, a characteristic associated particularly with the industrial valleys of south Wales. Comparatively little has been published on Welsh English intonation, but studies have been carried out since Wells’s Accents of English. Tench (1989: 140), on the English of Abercrave in the Swansea Valley, notes “the high degree of pitch movement on an unaccented post-tonic syllable” and “the high degree of pitch independence of unaccented syllables in pre-tonic position”, features which, says Tench, lie behind the singsong claim. The detailed analysis in Walters (2003: 81–84), which draws on his substantial 1999 study, describes striking pitch movement in the pronunciation of Rhondda Valleys English (for example, the tendency for pitch to rise from the stressed syllable), which Walters connects with influence from Welsh-language intonation patterns.

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Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Aitchison, John and Harold Carter 2000 Language, Economy and Society: The Changing Fortunes of the Welsh Language in the Twentieth Century. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Coupland, Nikolas and Alan R. Thomas 1989 Introduction: social and linguistic perspectives on English in Wales. In: Nikolas Coupland and Alan R. Thomas (eds.), English in Wales: Diversity, Conflict and Change, 1–16. Clevedon/Philadelphia: Multilingual Matters. Jones, Glyn E. 1984 The distinctive vowels and consonants of Welsh. In: Martin J. Ball and Glyn E. Jones (eds.), Welsh Phonology: Selected Readings, 40–64. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Parry, David (ed.) 1977–1979 The Survey of Anglo-Welsh Dialects, 2 Volumes. Swansea: privately published. 1999 A Grammar and Glossary of the Conservative Anglo-Welsh Dialects of Rural Wales. Sheffield: National Centre for English Cultural Tradition. Penhallurick, Robert J. 1991 The Anglo-Welsh Dialects of North Wales: A Survey of Conservative Rural Spoken English in the Counties of Gwynedd and Clwyd. Frankfurt am Main: Lang. 1993 Welsh English: a national language? Dialectologia et Geolinguistica 1: 28– 46. 1994 Gowerland and its Language: A History of the English Speech of the Gower Peninsula, South Wales. Frankfurt am Main: Lang. Tench, Paul 1989 The pronunciation of English in Abercrave. In: Nikolas Coupland and Alan R. Thomas (eds.), English in Wales: Diversity, Conflict and Change, 130–141. Clevedon /Philadelphia: Multilingual Matters. Walters, J. Roderick 2003 “Celtic English”: influences on a South Wales valleys accent. English WorldWide 24: 63–87.

English dialects in the North of England: phonology Joan Beal

1. 1.1.

Introduction Defining “the North of England”

The North of England is a region whose boundaries have been defined in a number of different ways by laypersons, members of the tourist industry and linguists. Wales (2002), using the methodology of perceptual dialectology, demonstrates that undergraduate students in a British university vary widely in their perceptions of the geographical boundaries of the North. Typically, when asked to draw a line on a map of Britain, students resident in the South of England would place this line much further South than those resident in the North or Midlands. Expressions such as “North of Watford Gap” testify to the perceptions of southerners in this “austrocentric” nation (Wales 2002: 46). Historically, we might think of the North as the area covered by the Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Northumbria, stretching from the Humber to the Firth, with Sheffield marking its southernmost point on the border with Mercia. This area would include the modern counties of Northumberland, Cumbria, Tyne and Wear, Teesside, Humberside, Yorkshire, Merseyside, Greater Manchester and Lancashire, but exclude Cheshire, Derbyshire, Nottinghamshire and Lincolnshire. Tourist maps tend to agree with this definition: the National Trust handbook has Merseyside and Lancashire in the North-west, but Cheshire in the central area; the route maps in Country Walking magazine place Cheshire in the “Heart of England”, Lincolnshire in the “East of England” and Derbyshire alongside Nottinghamshire in the East Midlands. Confirming this last location, a film released in the cinema in summer, 2002, is set in Nottingham and entitled Once upon a time in the Midlands. Dialectologists have attempted to define the North in purely linguistic terms. Whilst these more objective judgements do not show the same range of divergence as the students in Wales’s (2000) study, there are differences, particularly apparent when we contrast accounts of “traditional” dialects with those of “modern” ones. Ellis (1869–1889) divided England into six major dialect areas, on the basis of ten isoglosses. His area V, the northern division, covers “the entire North and East Ridings with some of the West Riding of Yorkshire, northern Lancashire, most of Cumberland and Northumberland, all Westmorland and Durham” (Ihalainen 1994: 245). Ellis’s divisions are based on four phonological criteria: the pronunciation of words like some, the pronunciation of r, the pronunciation of the definite article and the pronunciation of words like house. His northern division excludes the southern

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parts of Lancashire and Yorkshire, and the far North of Northumberland and Cumbria (these latter belonging to area VI, “the lowland division”). Wakelin (1983) divides the traditional dialects of England into four regions, roughly corresponding to the dialect areas of Middle English: North, West Midlands, East Midlands and South-west. Wakelin’s northern region reaches slightly further South than Ellis’s, with its southern boundary stretching from the Humber to the Ribble. The SED likewise follows the divisions of Middle English dialects. The Basic Materials are divided into four volumes: the northern counties and Man; the West Midlands; the East Midlands and the South. The northern Counties covered in volume I are Cumberland, Westmorland, Northumberland, Durham, Lancashire and Yorkshire. By using county boundaries to delimit the regions covered by their volumes, Orton (1962–1971) thus brings the territory covered by “the North” further south than either Ellis or Wakelin to coincide with Anglo-Saxon Northumbria. Although Orton and his fellow SED researchers seem to have organised their volumes in this way for administrative convenience rather than as a theoretical statement, as Wales (2002: 48) points out, their “northern Counties” division does accord with popular perceptions, especially those of northerners. Wales herself follows the SED’s example in her cultural history of northern English (Wales 2002: 48). Most recently, Trudgill (1999) divides the traditional dialect areas of England into three regions: North, central and South. Trudgill’s criteria are the pronunciation of long as /la/ vs. /l/, ni
ht as /nit/ vs. /nait/, blind as /blnd/ vs. /blaind/, land as /land/ vs. /lnd/, arm as /arm/ vs. m/, hill as /hl/ vs. /l/, seven as /svn/ vs. /z vn/, and bat as /bat/ vs. /bæt/. Trudgill’s northern region is subdivided into the Lower North and Northumbria, with Lancashire in the western central and South Yorkshire in the eastern central regions. Trudgill’s definition of the North is thus closer to Ellis’s, with Northumberland separated from the rest of the North, and Lancashire and South Yorkshire outside the North altogether. Trudgill uses a different set of criteria to classify modern dialects, of which he writes: In Britain, they are particularly associated with those areas of the country from which Standard English originally came – the southeast of England; with most urban areas; with places which have become English-speaking only relatively recently, such as the Scottish Highlands, much of Wales, and western Cornwall; with the speech of younger people; and with middle- and upper-class speakers everywhere. (Trudgill 1999: 6).

These criteria are: the vowel in but /b t/ vs. /b√t/, the pronunciation of arm as /arm/ vs. /m/, the pronunciation of singer as /si/ vs. /si/, the pronunciation of few as /fju/ vs. /fu/, the pronunciation of ee in coffee as // vs. /i/, the pronunciation of gate as /et/ vs. /eit/ and the pronunciation of l in milk [mlk] vs. [mk]. On the basis of these criteria, Trudgill divides the modern dialects into two major areas, North and South, with the North subdivided into northern and central. Merseyside is here classified along with the West Midlands

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and Northwest Midlands as part of the West central group, on the basis of having /si/ for singer. The northern division is then further subdivided into the Northeast (from the Tees to the Tweed) and the Lower North (Humberside, central Lancashire and the central North). The single criterion for the major division between North and South here is the vowel in but, pronounced /b t/ to the North of a line running from the Wash just south of Birmingham to the Welsh border and /b√t/ South of this line. Wells likewise uses this feature as one of the main criteria for dividing English accents into northern and southern types: We cross from the south to the linguistic north at the point where we pass the northern limits (in broad local accents) of the FOOT-STRUT split and of BATH broadening. In a northern accent, then, put and putt are typically homophones, [p t], while gas and glass rhyme perfectly, [as, las]. (Wells 1982: 349)

Like Trudgill, Wells (1982) notes that the North, so defined, also includes “most of the midlands. It includes, for example, the Birmingham-Wolverhampton conurbation, Leicester and Peterborough” Wells (1982: 349). He then goes on to subdivide the North into the Midlands, the middle North and the far North. The geographical areas covered by these subdivisions are similar to those in Trudgill (1999), except that, for Wells, Liverpool is in the middle North rather than the Midlands. The accounts of linguists thus differ according to the type of dialect classified (traditional vs. modern) and the range of linguistic criteria used in classification. They do, however, all agree on a core area which is indisputably northern, an area roughly corresponding to the territory of the Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Northumbria, south of the present-day border with Scotland. It is acknowledged that the far North, or the North-east from Tees to Tweed, has dialects which are markedly different from those of the lower or middle North. Whilst acknowledging that, according to the criteria selected by Wells, the Midlands share certain highly salient characteristics with the North, in this chapter I shall define “the North of England” as coterminous with that of Anglo-Saxon Northumbria, i.e. stretching from Berwick-upon-Tweed and Carlisle in the North, to Sheffield in the South, and including Merseyside and all of pre-1972 Lancashire (thus Warrington and Widnes, which are now in Cheshire), and all of Yorkshire and Humberside. This area is coterminous with the six northern counties of the SED, and is also the area covered in Wales’s (2002) cultural history of northern English. 1.2.

A brief history of northern English

The origins of northern English can be traced to the language of the first settlements of northern Germanic tribes in what was to become the Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Northumbria. However, as Wales (2002: 47) points out, the Romans had already divided Britain into Britannia superior (south of the Mersey-Wash line);

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Britannia Inferior, north of this line; and Britannia Barbara, north of Hadrian’s Wall. Thus, even before English was spoken in this country, the threefold cultural division of South, North and far North was recognised. What can further be established is that Britain had been invaded by Germanic tribes before the end of the 5th century, and that by the 9th century, written records show clear dialectal differences between texts written in the North and South of what is now England. Versions of Caedmon’s hymn, which is found in Bede’s History of the English Church and People, exist in both West Saxon and Northumbrian dialects. Both these versions were written in the 9th century, when Bede’s Ecclesiastical History was translated from Latin. Differences between the two texts include West Saxon for Northumbrian , and West Saxon for Northumbrian suggesting that the West Saxon had diphthongs where Northumbrian had monophthongs in words such as bearn/barn (‘child’, cf. present-day northern bairn) and heofon/ hef n (‘heaven’) (see Freeborn 1998: 32–33 for a full transcription of these two versions). Opinion is divided as to whether these dialectal differences in Old English have their origins in the different tribal dialects of the Angles in the North and the Saxons in the South, or whether they evolved in the 200 years between the first settlements and the first written records. Certainly, by the 8th century, the geographical distribution of the dialects of Old English coincided with some of the political boundaries of the Heptarchy, but even at this early stage, the differences between northern and southern dialects were the most distinctive, with Northumbrian and Mercian more similar to each other than to the dialects of East Anglia, Wessex or Kent. Texts from the Middle English period provide evidence both of a number of differences between northern, midland and southern dialects of English, and of a growing awareness of these distinctions on the part of writers. By the 14th century, there is clear evidence that northern dialects were becoming stigmatised, at least in the eyes (or ears) of southerners. Perhaps the most frequently-quoted example of this is John of Trevisa’s (1380) translation of Higden’s Polychronicon, in which Trevisa inserts the following comment: Al the longage of the Northumbres, and speciallich at York, is so scharp, slitting and frotyng and unshape, that we southerne men may that longage unnethe understonde. I trowe that that is bycause that they beeth nigh to straunge men and aliens that speketh strongeliche (cited in Freeborn 1998: 259).

Notable here is the characterisation of northern English as both harsh and unintelligible to “we southerne men”, an in-group whose superiority is assumed. However, the superiority of the South did not go unchallenged: in the Second Shepherd’s Play of the Townley Cycle (Wakefield), the sheep-stealer Mak disguises himself as a court official in order to trick the locals. His attempt is received with ridicule, as he is told ‘let be thy southern tooth and set in it a turd’. Thus the stereotypes of

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the condescending southerner and the proudly defiant Yorkshireman are already established by the end of the 14th century. Some of the dialectal differences between northern and southern dialects of Middle English are apparent in versions of the Cursor Mundi, originally written in the North towards the end of the 13th century, but copied by a southern scribe in the 14th century. The southern scribe makes several changes which provide evidence of dialectal differences. One clear North-South distinction is that between spellings in the North and spellings in the South for words like know, none and hold. As the modern spellings show, the spelling has prevailed in Standard English, but survival of pronunciations with /e/ in Scots provide evidence for an earlier /a/ or /a/ which is retained in the North, but rounded to /o/ in southern dialects. This change seems to have happened at least by the 12th century, for texts from this period show the same pattern of spellings in the North (and Midlands) but in the South (Examples can be found in Freeborn 1998: 116). Many of the differences between northern and southern dialects of Middle English can be attributed to the greater influence of Scandinavian languages in the North. The first recorded landing of Viking invaders was the raid on Lindisfarne in 793, but sustained contact between English- and Scandinavian-speaking people did not occur until the second half of the 9th century, when the great armies of the Vikings settled in East Anglia, the eastern part of Mercia, and southern Northumbria. Along with those of the Norwegians who sailed from Ireland to the Northwest of England, these settlements make up the ‘Scandinavian Belt’ crossing England diagonally from Cumbria to Lincolnshire, in which the greatest concentration of Scandinavian features in English dialects is still found. In the Middle English period, northern dialects of English were characterised by Scandinavian features such as the pronouns they, their, them, as well as the levelling of inflections which has been attributed to language contact. These morphological features were to be adopted into the Standard English which developed in 15th century London, and so are no longer recognised as northern. As Wales (2002: 45) points out, no comprehensive history of northern English has ever been written: typically, histories of English confine their accounts of northern dialects to an enumeration of the characteristics of Middle English dialects and the contributions of northern dialects to the 15th century standard. References to northern English after 1500 tend to consist largely of quoting the derogatory remarks of southerners as proof that only Standard English mattered in the modern period. Perhaps the most frequently-quoted extract is the following, from Puttenham’s Art of English Poesie, where the author says of the would-be poet: …neither shall he take the termes of Northern-men, such as they use in dayly talke, whether they be noblemen or gentlemen, or of their best clarkes all is a matter: nor in effect any speach used beyond the river of Trent, though no man can deny but that theirs is the purer English Saxon at this day, yet it is not so Courtly nor so currant as our Southerne English is, no more is the far Westerne mans speach: ye shall therefore take

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the vsuall speach of the Court, and that of London and the shires lying about London within lx myles, and not much aboue. (1589, cited in Freeborn 1998: 307).

Representations of northern English in 16th-century literature emphasise the outlandishness of these dialects to Londoners’ ears. In William Bullein’s Dialogue both Pleasant and Pitifull (1578), the character Mendicus is quite literally the beggar at the gates of London. His Northumbrian dialect is noticed at once by the lady of the house, who remarks: “What doest thou here in this Countrie? me thinke thou art a Scot by thy tongue.” Mendicu’s speech is one of the few 16th-century representations of Northumbrian dialect, characterised by the use of for in words such as mare for more and sarie for sorry, as well as a number of words which would have been familiar to Londoners from the Border Ballads sung in the streets: limmer ‘scoundrel’, fellon ‘brave’, deadlie feede (the blood feud of the North Marches). Other words, such as barnes ‘children’ and ne ‘no’, are still used in Northumberland today. Bullein had spent several years in Tynemouth, and so had had the opportunity to observe the Northumbrian dialect first-hand. His representation of the dialect seems accurate, but the effect in the play is to reinforce the stereotype of the uncivilised northerner. The quote from Puttenham suggests that the acceptable model for literary English was that of an area within a 60-mile radius of London, and that the English spoken north of the Trent was singled out, along with that of the South-west, as particularly outlandish, albeit northern English is acknowledged to be ‘purer’. This double-edged attitude towards northern English was to persist throughout the modern period. John Ray’s Collection of English Words not generally used (1674) shows an antiquarian interest in northern dialect, and even Dr Johnson acknowledged that, having “many words…commonly of the genuine Teutonic race…the northern speech is…not barbarous but obsolete” (1755). On the other hand, 18th century grammarians and elocutionists catered for readers who were anxious to rid themselves of the stigma of provincialism in an increasingly London-centric society. John Walker’s Critical Pronouncing Dictionary (1791), after outlining his “Rules for the Natives of Scotland, Ireland and London for avoiding their respective peculiarities”, makes the following remark about “those at a considerable distance from the capital”: If the short sound of the letter u in trunk, sunk, &c. differ from the sound of that letter in the northern parts of England, where thay sound it like the u in bull, and nearly as if the words were written troonk, soonk, &c. it necessarily follows that every word where the second sound of that letter occurs must by these provincials be mispronounced. (Walker 1791: xii, my emphasis)

Walker’s remarks here show a clear judgement that any dialect diverging from the polite usage of London (not that of the Cockneys, who are the “inhabitants of London” intended to benefit from Walker’s rules) is simply wrong, and must be corrected with the help of the Critical Pronouncing Dictionary. A by-product of

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this is that Walker, along with other 18th-century authors such as Thomas Sheridan, William Kenrick and the northerner John Kirkby, give us detailed information about northern pronunciation in the 18th century, if only in order to proscribe it. The feature described by Walker in the quote above is of course one of the most salient markers of northern English pronunciation to this day: the lack of what Wells (1982: 196) terms the “FOOT-STRUT split” (see 2.1.1. below for a further discussion of this feature). Other features of northern pronunciation particularly singled out for censure in the 18th century include the Northumbrian burr, first noticed by Defoe, who wrote: I must not quit Northumberland without taking notice, that the Natives of this Country, of the ancient original Race or Families, are distinguished by a Shibboleth upon their Tongues in pronouncing the Letter R, which they cannot utter without a hollow Jarring in the Throat, by which they are as plainly known, as a foreigner is in pronouncing the Th: this they call the Northumberland R, or Wharle; and the Natives value themselves upon that Imperfection, because, forsooth, it shews the Antiquity of their Blood. (Defoe, Daniel. 1724–1727. A Tour Thro’ the Whole Island of Great Britain. Volume 3. London, 232–233)

Although Defoe calls this an “imperfection”, he acknowledges that the Northumbrians themselves take pride in this feature, possibly alluding to the folk-belief that it arose from copying a speech impediment of local hero Harry ‘Hotspur’ Percy, heir to the Duke of Northumberland. 18th-century authors, in condemning northern dialects, provide us with a good deal of information about the characteristic features of these dialects at the time (see 3.4.2. below for further discussion of the Northumbrian burr). The 19th century saw the rise of the large industrial towns and cities of the North, and a corresponding awakening of working-class consciousness and regional pride. This found its expression in various forms of dialect writing: almanacs, poetry, dialogues and music-hall songs and recitations. At the same time, the new discipline of philology gives rise to scholarly accounts of northern dialects such as Joseph Wright’s (1892) Grammar of the Dialect of Windhill and numerous dialect glossaries such as Richard Heslop’s Northumberland Words (1892). By the end of the 19th century, universal primary education was perceived as a threat to the survival of traditional dialects: Heslop expresses his concern that “the tendency to assimilate the form of the dialect with the current English of the schools is increasing”, but the construction which he uses to illustrate this point, Me and my marrow was ganning to work, is still in use today. Similar concerns about the viability of English dialects have been expressed throughout the 20th century, and continue into the 21st. The SED, which began in the 1950’s, set out with the intention of recording “traditional vernacular, genuine and old”, before such dialects were irretrievably lost due to the effects of urbanisation, mobility and the BBC. Echoes of these concerns can be found in accounts of dialect levelling at the turn of the millennium, both in scholarly texts such as the

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papers in Foulkes and Docherty (1999) and in popular accounts of the spread of Estuary English (see also Altendorf and Watt, this volume). It is certainly the case that traditional dialects are being replaced by more modern, urban vernaculars, and that, within certain regions, the dialect of influential towns and cities is spreading (see Newbrook [1986, 1999] and Llamas [2000] for accounts of the influence of Liverpool and Newcastle on their respective hinterlands). But even where there is clear evidence of levelling in the North, this seems to be in the direction of a regional, or pan-northern, rather than a national model, so that we can confidently expect northern dialects to remain distinctive for some time yet. 1.3.

Differences between dialects in the North of England

According to Wells (1982), “local differences in dialect and accent as one moves from valley to valley or from village to village are sharper in the north than in any other part of England, and become sharper the further north one goes” (Wells 1982: 351). In the light of recent studies which provide evidence of levelling in the North of England (discussed in 1.2 above), this may seem too bold a statement. Nevertheless, it is certainly the case that, even with regard to modern dialects, more features differentiate northern dialects from each other than are common to all of them. Even in areas where levelling occurs, new shibboleths are emerging to represent perceived differences between speakers living as little as 10 miles apart (cf. Beal [2000a] for an account of differences between ‘Geordie’ [Newcastle] and ‘Mackem’ [Sunderland]). Whilst all northern dialects share certain phonological features, notably the short /a/ in BATH and ‘unsplit’ /u/ in FOOT/ STRUT, others differentiate dialects within the North. Some of these distinctions are not strictly geographical, except insofar as they distinguish the more traditional speakers in rural areas from their urban neighbours. Even in the most remote corners of England today, young people attend high school and carry out leisure pursuits in larger towns and cities, so speakers of traditional dialects are likely to be older as well as rural. An example of a distinctive feature of traditional dialect can be found in the North-east, where increasingly only traditional dialect speakers have the Northumbrian burr /“/. However, other North-eastern features, such as /h/- retention, would be common to all speakers in this area, at least north of the Wear. Other features distinguish dialect areas within the North from each other. In Trudgill’s account (1999: 65–75), the area which I have defined as the North in 1.1. above includes six dialect areas: Northeast, lower North, central Lancashire, Merseyside, Humberside and Northwest Midlands (the last of these includes Manchester). These divisions are arrived at on the basis of five phonological criteria: /h/-dropping/retention, monophthong versus diphthong in FACE, velar nasal plus in SING, rhoticity versus non-rhoticity, and the final vowel of happY. As we shall see in the next section, whilst these features do serve to distinguish the major

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dialect divisions in the North of England, they are not the only features which are salient.

2.

Vowels and diphthongs

KIT DRESS TRAP LOT STRUT FOOT BATH CLOTH NURSE

2.1.

  a  ~ ~ a  Œ~~ø~ç

FLEECE FACE PALM THOUGHT GOAT GOOSE PRICE CHOICE MOUTH

i ~ i ~ ei e ~ ei ~ i a ~  ~  ç ~  ~ a o ~ o ~  ~  u ~ u ai ~  ~ i ~i ç ~  a ~ a ~ u ~ u

NEAR SQUARE START NORTH FORCE CURE happY lettER horsES CommA

i ~i  ~  ~Œ a ~  ~  ç ~ ~   ç ~  ~  jç ~ j  ~ j  ~~i ~~ ~ ~~

FOOT and STRUT

One of the most salient markers of northern English pronunciation, and the only one which involves a difference between dialects of the North (and Midlands) and those of the South as far as their phonemic inventories are concerned, is the lack of what Wells (1982: 132) terms the “FOOT–STRUT split” everywhere in England north of Birmingham. This split is of relatively recent origin, and is the result of unrounding of the Middle English short / / in certain environments. By the middle of the eighteenth century the ‘unsplit’ / / was already recognised as a northern characteristic. The Cumbrian John Kirkby remarked in 1746 that his “seventh vowel”, found in skull, gun, supper, figure, nature, “is scarce known to the Inhabitants of the North, who always use the short sound of the eighth vowel instead of it.” (quoted in Bergström 1955: 71) (Kirkby’s “eighth vowel” is long in too, woo, Food, etc., short in good, stood, Foot, etc. and so most likely to be / / ~ /u/) This suggests that 18th century northerners pronounced / / where southerners had /√/, but William Kenrick (1773: 36) indicates otherwise in his New Dictionary of the English Language. It is further observable of this sound, that the people of Ireland, Yorkshire, and many other provincials mistake its use; applying it to words which in London are pronounced with the u full… as bull, wool, put, push, all of which they pronounce as the inhabitants of the Metropolis do trull, blood, rut, rush. Thus the ingenious Mr. Ward of Beverley, has given us in his grammar the words put, thus and rub as having one quality of sound.

Thus both Kirkby and Kenrick (as well as Walker, see 1.2. above) attest to the lack of any FOOT–STRUT split as a salient feature of northern speech in the 18th century,

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but whilst Kirkby suggests that the unsplit northern phoneme is / /, Kenrick’s account indicates that it is more like /√/. In fact, both types of pronunciation exist in the North of England today. Wells (1982: 132) writes that “relatively open, STRUT– like qualities may be encountered as hypercorrections in FOOT words, as [√]” whilst Watt and Milroy (1999: 28) note that in Newcastle “STRUT/FOOT may be heard as [], among middle-class speakers, particularly females.” Kenrick’s “Mr Ward of Beverly” could well have been describing a similarly hypercorrect or middle class pronunciation in his grammar. Quite apart from these hypercorrect pronunciations, realisations of the FOOT–STRUT vowel vary from [ ] in the lower North and central Lancashire to something more like [ ] in Tyneside and Northumberland. Distribution of /u/ and / / across the FOOT and GOOSE sets also varies within and between northern dialects. Except in Tyneside and Northumberland, older speakers throughout the North have /u/ in some FOOT words, notably cook, brook, hook. These words, along with such as stood, good, foot etc. would have had a long vowel until the 17th century. 17th century evidence shows that pronunciation of these words was very variable, with /√/, / / and /u/ all attested for the same words. In the case of words in which the vowel is followed by /k/, this shortening has simply taken much longer to affect certain northern dialects, but the short vowel is now spreading. There are also some words in which pronunciation varies idiosyncratically: in Tyneside, both /f d/ and /fud/ can be heard, but the distribution seems to be idiolectal rather than regional, and soot is likewise highly variable. 2.2.

BATH

Although // exists as a contrastive phoneme in northern English dialects, its distribution is more restricted than in the South. In the North, this vowel is notably absent from the BATH set. This feature and the unsplit FOOT–STRUT vowel are the two most salient markers of northern English, but the vowel in BATH words is the more stable and salient of the two. Wells (1982: 354) puts this point elegantly: “there are many educated northerners who would not be caught dead doing something so vulgar as to pronounce STRUT words with [ ], but who would feel it to be a denial of their identity as northerners to say BATH words with anything other than short [a]”. Like the FOOT–STRUT split, lengthening of an earlier short vowel /a/ in BATH words dates from the 17th century. The history of these words is very complex, but the lengthening certainly seems to have been a southern innovation, which was, in fact, stigmatised as a Cockneyism until well into the 19th century. Today, it is the northern short /a/ which is stigmatised, popularly described as a flat vowel, but as Wells’s quote suggests, it is a stigma which is worn with pride by the vast majority of northerners. Indeed, in northern universities, students from

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the South are observed to shorten their pronunciation of the vowel in BATH words, assimilating to the pronunciation of their peers. In some northern varieties, there are lexical exceptions to the rule that BATH words have a short vowel: in Tyneside and Northumberland, master, plaster and less frequently disaster are pronounced with // (phonetically more like []), but faster with /a/, whilst master alone is pronounced with // in other varieties (Lancashire, Sheffield). As with unsplit FOOT–STRUT, the short vowel in BATH words is a feature of all northern English dialects, but is also found throughout the Midlands, at least as far south as Birmingham. Nevertheless, these are the features most often referred to in stereotypes of northern speech, and most often mentioned when subjects are asked to name features of northern dialect. All the features discussed below differentiate dialects in the North of England from each other. 2.3.

GOAT and FACE

These lexical sets have monophthongal pronunciations/o/ and /e/ respectively in traditional dialects in the lower North, central Lancashire and Humberside, but diphthongal pronunciations in the far North and Merseyside. In Tyneside and Northumberland, traditional dialect speakers have centring diphthongs /u/ and /i/ in these words, whilst in Merseyside the corresponding diphthongs are more like RP. In the North-east, there is evidence of levelling in younger and/ or middle-class speakers, not towards the closing diphthongs of RP, but to the monophthongal pronunciations found throughout most of the North. Watt and Milroy (1999) report that, in a study of speech recorded in 1994, only the older, working-class males used // in the majority of tokens of FACE vowels. Amongst all other groups, the most frequent variant was /e/, with /e/ emerging as a minority variant in the speech of young, middle-class males and females. Watt and Milroy suggest that the younger Tynesiders are signalling that they do not wish to identify with the old-fashioned cloth-cap-and-whippet image of their fathers, but still wish to be identified as northerners, so they are assimilating their speech to a pan-northern norm. At the opposite end of the northern dialect region, pronunciations of FACE words vary between older monophthongal /e/ and the diphthongal /e/ found in Merseyside and the Midlands as well as in RP. In these areas, the monophthongal pronunciations would be the old-fashioned variants, and the diphthongal variants are spreading from urban centres such as Liverpool. Some northern dialects retain traces of an earlier distinction between // in e.g. eight, weight and /e/ in e.g. ate, wait. Both Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 89) and Petyt (1985: 119–124) note this distinction in speakers from West Yorkshire. However, the maintenance of a phonemic distinction appears to be recessive in these dialects. Petyt concludes that the influence of RP has led to confusion as to the incidence of these two phonemes, though some speakers retain a distinction between [e] in wait and [EI] in weight.

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To a certain extent, the variants of GOAT words are parallel to those of FACE: traditional North-eastern dialects have a centring diphthong /u/, most of the North has a monophthong /o/, whilst Merseyside has /ou/. Some West Yorkshire speakers maintain a distinction between /o/ in e.g. nose and /çu/ in e.g. knows, but, as with the parallel distribution of variants in the FACE set, this is recessive (Petyt 1985: 124–132). Whilst Watt and Milroy found an overall preference for the pannorthern monophthongal variant /o/ in every group of their Tyneside informants except the older working-class males, another conservative variant [] was used more by young, middle-class males than any other group. Watt and Milroy suggest that, for this group, the adoption of this variant is a “symbolic affirmation of local identity” (Watt and Milroy 1999: 37). A similar fronted variant is found in Humberside and South and West Yorkshire, and has become a stereotypical marker of the dialect of Hull, where humorous texts use semi-phonetic spellings such as fern curls for phone calls. 2.4.

MOUTH

In traditional dialects, especially in the far North (and Scotland), words of this class are pronounced with [u]. This monophthongal pronunciation is the same as that of Middle English: in the far North, the Great Vowel Shift did not affect the back vowels, so that /u/ remains unshifted. In traditional dialects, this pronunciation could be found north of the Humber, but this receded in the later 20th century. In Tyneside and Northumberland, it is now used mostly by speakers who are older and/or working-class and/or male, and most speakers would use a diphthongal pronunciation [u] for the majority of words in this set. However, in certain words which are strongly associated with local identity this pronunciation has been lexicalised and reflected in the spelling (Beal 2000a). For example, the spelling Toon (pronounced /tun/) has traditionally been used by Northumbrians to refer to the City of Newcastle, where they would go for shopping and leisure. The Toon is also the local name for Newcastle United Football Club, but more recently this spelling has also been adopted by the national press (“Toon must hit back” Daily Mirror April 14th 2003). This semi-phonetic spelling and monophthongal pronunciation can also be found in the words brown (when referring to Newcastle Brown Ale), down and out, all of which either refer to local items, or are used in collocation with town in phrases such as down the Town, a night out in the Town. In some parts of the middle North, especially South Yorkshire, this set is pronounced /a/. According to Petyt (1985: 82–91), accounts of the traditional dialects of Bradford, Halifax and Huddersfield suggest that words such as down, ground, town had /a/ in Bradford, /e´/ in Halifax, and that there was variation between /a/ and /´/ in Huddersfield. Petyt’s own investigation (conducted from 1970 to 1971) revealed that the monophthongal pronunciation was recessive, but that a compromise between “traditional” /a/ and “RP” /au/, in which the diphthong has a

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lengthened first element “may be among the regional features that persist”. (Petyt 1985: 165) 2.5.

PRICE

Most words in this set have the diphthong /a/ in the majority of northern English dialects. In Tyneside and Northumberland, the diphthong is a narrower [], whilst in parts of the ‘middle North’, including West and South Yorkshire, a monophthongal [], distinct from the monophthongal [a] variant in down, etc., is found in more traditional dialects. In such dialects, ground and grind would be pronounced [rand], [rnd] respectively. As with MOUTH words, Petyt found that a compromise variant comprising a diphthong with a lengthened first element was more common in the speech of his 1970–1971 informants. In words such as night or right, northern dialects retained the consonant /X/ when this was vocalised in southern dialects in the 16th century. In dialects which retained this northern pronunciation, the vowel before /X/ remained short, and so was not shifted to /a/ in the Great Vowel Shift. When northern English dialects later lost this consonant, the preceding vowel was lengthened to /i/ giving pronunciations such as /nit, rit/ for night, right etc. This is now retained mainly in frequently-used words and phrases. Thus [arit] alright is a common greeting between working-class males on Tyneside and [nit] is similarly used for night especially in the expression the night (‘tonight’), but [lit] would be the more usual pronunciation of light. Petyt (1985: 164) notes that /i/ was used in words of this subset by his West Yorkshire informants, but that the compromise diphthong described above was also used in these words. 2.6.

SQUARE and NURSE

Whilst in RP SQUARE is pronounced with /E/ and NURSE with the central vowel /´/, the two sets are merged in certain dialects within the North. In Liverpool, words from either of these sets can be pronounced either as [] or [Œ], thus fur and fair can both be heard as [f] or [Œ]. The [Œ] pronunciation in SQUARE words is typical of traditional Lancashire dialects, and so can be heard in e.g. Wigan and Bolton, but is less common in the city of Manchester. Since Liverpool was in the old county of Lancashire, the [Œ] pronunciation is perhaps a more traditional variant, and is heard in smaller Merseyside towns such as St Helens. However, [] in NURSE is also found in Hull and Middlesbrough on the East coast, but not north of the Teesside conurbation. More research needs to be carried out on the history of northern dialects of English before we can know whether this distribution is significant. In each locality, the [] in NURSE acts as a local shibboleth, distinguishing Liverpool from Lancashire, Hull from the rest of Yorkshire, and Teesside from the rest of the North-east.

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2.7.

NURSE and NORTH

These are merged for older/working-class speakers in Tyneside and Northumberland, where, in traditional dialects the vowel in NURSE words has been retracted to [ç]. Påhlsson (1972) explains this retraction as having been caused by “burr-modification”, the effect of the following uvular [“], or Northumbrian burr, prior to loss of rhoticity in this dialect (see section 3.4. below for a discussion of rhoticity on northern dialects). This merger is a stereotypical feature of Tyneside and Northumbrian dialects, often referred to in humorous dialect literature (see Beal [2000a]). However, recent research shows that the retracted pronunciation of NURSE is found mostly in the speech of older, male speakers, whilst a front, rounded variant [O] is found in the speech of younger women in particular (Watt and Milroy 1999). 2.8.

happY

The unstressed vowel at the end of words in this set varies between tense and lax realisations in northern dialects. Dialects with what Wells (1982: 255–256) terms “happY-tensing” include those of the North-east, Liverpool and Hull. Elsewhere in the North, lax realisations of this vowel as [] or [] are heard. In the happYtensing areas, the realisation may be [i] or even long [i]. Perhaps because the tense vowel is found throughout the South and Midlands and in RP, both Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 57) and Wells (1982: 258) describe this as a southern feature, which has spread to certain urban areas in the North. However, a closer examination of 18th century sources reveals that the tense vowel was found both in the North-east and in London, suggesting that this is not such a recent innovation in these dialects (Beal 2000b). In all the northern happY-tensing areas, the lax vowel is a shibboleth of the neighbouring dialects: it marks the difference between Teesside and Yorkshire, Humberside and West Yorkshire, and Liverpool and Lancashire. In every case, it is the lax variant which is stigmatised. For example, young, middle-class women in Sheffield, which is on the border of the North and the Midlands, are increasingly using either a more tense variant or a compromise diphthong [e], perhaps in order to avoid the stigmatised Yorkshire []. 2.9.

lettER

This unstressed vowel has a range of realisations in different northern dialects. Whilst the majority of northern speakers have [´] in this context, speakers in Manchester and Sheffield have [], whilst Tynesiders have []. In the case of Tyneside, the [] is also heard as the second element of centering diphthongs in e.g. here, and poor [hi, pu].

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3.

Consonants

3.1.

// in SING

127

This phoneme is not part of the inventory of dialects in the south-western corner of the North as here defined, i.e. from Liverpool and South Lancashire as far across as Sheffield. Here, [] is only ever pronounced before a velar consonant, e.g. in singing [s]. Thus [] in these varieties is an allophonic variant of /n/. Speakers in other parts of the North would often have [n] for the bound morpheme -ing, but would have [] elsewhere, thus singing would be [sn]. In the areas which retain the velar nasal plus pronunciation, [n] occurs as a less careful, stigmatised variant, whilst [] is perceived as correct, almost certainly because of the spelling. The [n] pronunciation was not perceived as incorrect until the later 18th century, when it began to be proscribed in pronouncing dictionaries. John Rice in his Introduction to the Art of Reading with Energy and Propriety (1765) writes that whilst /in/ is “taught in many of Our Grammars” it is “a viscious and indistinct Method of Pronunciation, and ought to be avoided”. However, well into the 20th century, this pronunciation was also perceived to be stereotypical of the English aristocracy, whose favourite pastimes were huntin’, shootin’ and fishin’. In the words something and anything, a variant pronunciation [k] is heard throughout the North, though in the North-east, the nasal may be dropped altogether to give [s mk]. These words are not used in traditional northern dialects, where the equivalents would be summat and nowt, so the [k] pronunciation here is perhaps hypercorrect. 3.2.

/h/

Pronunciation of initial is socially stratified in most areas of the North, as in most of England. Petyt’s study of West Yorkshire (1985: 106) shows that h-dropping is near-categorical for working-class males in casual speech style (93% in class V), but that class I males in the same speech style only have 12% h-dropping. The one area of the North in which initial is retained, at least in stressed syllables, is the North-East. Trudgill (1999: 29) shows the isogloss for [hl], [l] (hill) just north of the Tees, but Beal (2000a) demonstrates that h-dropping is perceived as a salient feature of Sunderland speech within Tyne and Wear. In fact, close examination of the SED material shows a set of very loosely bundled isoglosses for individual words, with that for home as far north as mid-Northumberland, and those for house, hear and hair following the Tees. Recent studies indicate that the h-dropping isogloss is moving further north, with even younger speakers as far north as Newcastle providing some evidence of this. Given that h-dropping is the most stigmatised feature of non-standard speech in England, this is a surprising development, but in the context of the spread of other pan-northern features such as the monophthongal pronunciation of GOAT and FACE, it is perhaps more

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understandable. Young north-easterners are converging with their northern peers rather than with RP speakers. 3.3.

/t/, /p/, /k/

The voiceless stops are subject to both regional and social variation within the North. Of this set, /t/ is the most variable. It can be realised as /r/, as an affricate [ts], as a glottal [/] or glottalised [/t]. Throughout the North, the pronunciation of /t/ as /r/ is found in certain phonological and morphological environments. Usually, this occurs intervocalically before a morpheme boundary, as in get off [rf] or put it [p rt], or an environment perceived as a morpheme boundary, e.g. matter [mar]. According to Watt and Milroy (1999: 29–30), in Newcastle this realisation of /t/ is heard “most often in the speech of older females”. In many urban areas of Britain, and in the North-east of England generally, /t/ can be glottalised. Glottalisation of /p/, /t/ and /k/ is a sociolinguistic variable correlating with age and gender in the North-east. According to Foulkes and Docherty (1999: 54), there are two distinct patterns of what may be loosely termed glottalisation in the speech of Newcastle: First, what sounds on auditory analysis to be a plain glottal stop occurs categorically before syllabic /l/ (e.g. in battle). The second type of variant presents the auditory impression of a glottal stop reinforcing any of the three voiceless stops /p, t, k/ when they occur between sonorants (e.g. in happy, set off, bacon). These variants are usually labelled ‘glottalised’. (Foulkes and Docherty 1999: 54)

The glottal stop pronunciation, especially of /t/, has been observed to be spreading to almost all urban centres in Britain, and is often cited as evidence of the influence of Estuary English (see also Altendorf and Watt, this volume). However, it was first noticed at the turn of the 20th century as occurring in the North of England and in Scotland. In the second half of the 20th century, use of the glottal stop for /t/ has spread to most urban areas of Britain. Indeed, Trudgill describes this as “one of the most dramatic, widespread and rapid changes to have occurred in British English in recent times” (Trudgill 1999: 136). In the North of England, it is found in every urban centre except Liverpool, and even here, Newbrook (1999: 97) notes glottal pronunciation of pre-consonantal and final /t/ in West Wirral. In the North-east, the glottalised [/t] pronunciation is more characteristic of traditional Tyneside speech. However, research carried out at the University of Newcastle shows that younger speakers, and especially middle-class females, use [/] in the non-initial prevocalic context (as in set off), whilst the glottalised forms tend to be used mainly by older, working-class males. There is thus a pattern of variation correlating with age, gender and social class, suggesting that young, middle-class females are in the vanguard of a change towards a non-localised pronunciation.

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(See Watt and Milroy [1999]; Docherty and Foulkes [1999] for further discussion of this.) Although this pattern might suggest that the glottalised forms are recessive in Tyneside, Llamas (2000) demonstrates that these variants are being adopted by younger speakers on Teesside, which “suggests that Middlesbrough English is converging with the varieties found further north in Tyneside, Wearside and Durham”. (Llamas 2000: 11) Whilst the glottal stop pronunciation of /t/ is, as reported above, spreading to all urban areas of Britain, glottal and glottalised forms of /p/ and /k/ are confined to the North-east. In Tyneside, glottalised forms of these consonants, as of /t/, are found, though less frequently in the speech of females than males. In Middlesbrough, these glottalised forms are increasingly used by younger speakers, but there is also a trend towards a full glottal stop for /p/ in younger speakers (Llamas 2000: 10). In Liverpool, /t/, /p/ and /k/ can be affricated in all positions, thus right, time [rats, tsam], hope, pay [hupf, pfa], work, cry [wk, kra]. In final position, they may be realised as full fricatives [∏, s, ]. Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 93) suggest that this phenomenon may account for the relative lack of glottal forms in this conurbation. 3.4.

/r/

The phonetic realisations and distributions of /r/ vary considerably between different northern dialects. In two areas of the North, /r/ was attested in preconsonantal environments in the SED. These rhotic areas were found in Lancashire and in Northumberland. In the latter case, there was more r-colouring (in which the articulation of the vowel anticipates the position of the /r/, but the consonant is not fully realized) than full articulation of /r/. In modern dialects, rhoticity is more likely to be found in north Northumberland, which borders (rhotic) Scotland, than further south, and it would certainly not be found in Newcastle. In Lancashire, rhoticity is still found in central Lancashire, including some of the towns within Greater Manchester, but not in the City of Manchester itself, except perhaps in the speech of older people. The dialect of Liverpool was not rhotic even at the time when the SED data was collected: this lack of rhoticity has been one of the features distinguishing Liverpool from its Lancashire hinterland, but, increasingly, rhoticity is being lost even in Lancashire. Where speakers in Lancashire and Northumberland are rhotic, the quality of the /r/ or /r/-colouring is distinct in each area. In Northumberland, the traditional dialect has a uvular /“/, known as the Northumbrian burr. As the quote from Defoe in 1.2. above indicates, this pronunciation has been a source of pride to Northumbrians, many of whom today will perform the burr as a party-trick even though they would not use it in everyday speech. In the 18th century, the burr was heard in Durham and Newcastle as well as Northumberland; however, Påhlsson’s (1972)

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study shows that, even in north Northumberland, the burr is now recessive, confined as it is mainly to the speech of older, working-class males in rural or fishing communities. The influence of the burr remains in the burr-modified vowel of NURSE, as discussed in 2.7. above. In Lancashire, the /r/ is a retroflex [], especially in rhotic accents, but in Liverpool and the surrounding areas of Lancashire and Cheshire, the /r/ is a flap [R]. 3.5.

Clear vs. dark /l/

In RP /l/ has clear [l] and dark [¬] allophones, the former occurring intervocalically as in silly, the latter pre- and postvocalically, as in lip, film. In Tyneside and Northumberland, the dark allophone is not used, so that, e.g. lip, film are pronounced with clear [l]. Where the /l/ occurs before a nasal, an epenthetic vowel is inserted between the /l/ and the nasal, so that film, elm and the river Aln are pronounced [fl´m, lm, al´n]. Conversely, in Lancashire, the dark [¬] is used in clear contexts, as in Lancashire, really [¬ak´, i´¬].

4.

Prosodic and intonational features

Although popular discussions of dialect often refer to the speech of a certain area as sing-song, lilting or monotonous, until very recently there has been relatively little research on the prosodic and intonational features of northern English dialects, except for the discussion of the sociolinguistic patterning of intonational variation in Tyneside English in Pellowe and Jones (1978). However, preliminary results from the Intonational Variation in English (IviE) project indicate that “dialect variation is a significant variable in prosodic typology” (Grabe and Post 2002: 346). An intonational pattern known as the Urban Northern British Rise occurs in Newcastle (as well as in Belfast and Dublin). In this pattern, there is a rise-plateau intonation in declarative sentences, distinct from the high rising tone heard in Australian and New Zealand English. This intonation is highly salient for Tyneside English, but can also be found in other northern British varieties. Grabe and Post (2002) also found differences between dialects of English with regard to the truncation or compression of falling accents on “very short IP-final words” (Grabe and Post 2002: 345). Whereas speakers in Leeds and Liverpool tended to truncate these patterns, those in Newcastle compressed them. Clearly, there is much work to be done on the study of intonational variation in English dialects, but these findings support the division of northern dialects into middle North and far North discussed in 1.1. Even less research has been carried out on prosodic variation in English dialects. Here, again, the North-East is distinct from the rest of the North, with a tendency for level stress, or with the main stress on the second element, in compounds. The place name Stakeford (in Northumberland) is pronounced with equal stress

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on each element, whereas a speaker from outside the region would pronounce it /»stekf´d/. Likewise, pitheap, the Northumbrian word for a colliery spoil heap, is pronounced /«p/»hip/. 5.

Articulatory setting

We have seen in the sections above that northern English dialects can be differentiated from each other with regard to segmental phonology and intonation. In some cases, though, the distinctive voice of a region, is produced by the articulatory setting. The only full and accessible study of articulatory setting in a northern English dialect is Knowles’, description of what he calls the “‘Scouse voice’, the total undifferentiated characteristic sound of a Liverpudlian” (Knowles 1978: 88). This voice quality is described here and elsewhere (Hughes and Trudgill 1996: 94) as velarization. Knowles describes this in detail as follows: In Scouse, the centre of gravity of the tongue is brought backwards and upwards, the pillars of the fauces are narrowed, the pharynx is tightened, and the larynx is displaced upwards. The lower jaw is typically held close to the upper jaw, and this position is maintained even for ‘open’ vowels. The main auditory effect of this setting is the ‘adenoidal’ quality of Scouse, which is produced even if the speaker’s nasal passages are unobstructed. (Knowles 1978: 89)

Hughes and Trudgill describe this more succinctly as “the accompaniment of other articulations by the raising of the back of the tongue towards the soft palate (as in the production of dark /l/)”. (Hughes and Trudgill 1996: 94) Although the articulatory setting of Liverpool English is very distinctive, it would be interesting to see whether the study of articulatory setting in other northern dialects might indicate typological distinctions parallel to those found for segmental and non-segmental phonology.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Beal, Joan 2000a 2000b

From Geordie Ridley to Viz: popular literature in Tyneside English. Language and Literature 9: 343–359. HappY-tensing: a recent innovation? In: Ricardo Bermudez-Ortero, David Denison, Richard M. Hogg and Christopher B. McCully (eds.), Generative Theory and Corpus Studies: A Dialogue from 10 ICEHL, 483–497. Berlin/ New York: Mouton de Gruyter.

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Bergström, F. 1955 John Kirkby (1746) on English pronunciation. Studia Neophilologica 27: 65– 104. Docherty, Gerard and Paul Foulkes 1999 Derby and Newcastle: instrumental phonetics and variationist studies. In: Foulkes and Docherty (eds.), 47–71. Freeborn, Dennis From Old English to Standard English. Houndmills: Macmillan. 19982 Grabe, Esther and Brechtje Post 2002 Intonational Variation in English. In: Bernard Bel and Isabelle Marlin (eds.), Proceedings of the Speech Prosody 2002 Conference, 343–346. Aix-enProvence: Laboratoire Parole et Langage. Heslop, Richard O. 1892 Northumberland Words. London: English Dialect Society. Ihalainen, Ossi 1994 The dialects of England since 1776. In: Burchfield (ed.), 197–274. Johnson, Samuel 1755 A Dictionary of the English Language. London: Strahan for Knapton. Kenrick, William 1773 A New Dictionary of the English Language. London: John and Francis Rivington. Knowles, Gerald 1978 The nature of phonological variables in Scouse. In: Trudgill (ed.), 80–90. Llamas, Carmen 2000 Middlesbrough English: convergent and divergent trends in a ‘part of Britain with no identity’. Leeds Working Papers in Phonetics and Linguistics 8: 1–26. Newbrook, Mark 1986 Sociolinguistic Reflexes of Dialect Interference in West Wirral. Bern/Frankfurt am Main: Lang. 1999 West Wirral: norms, self-reports and usage. In: Foulkes and Docherty (eds.), 90–106. Påhlsson, Christer 1972 The Northumbrian Burr. Lund: Gleerup. Pellowe, John and Val Jones 1978 On intonational variability in Tyneside speech. In: Trudgill (ed.), 101–121. Petyt, Malcolm K. 1985 Dialect and Accent in Industrial West Yorkshire. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Rice, John 1765 An Introduction to the Art of Reading with Energy and Propriety. London: Tonson. Wakelin, Martyn 1983 The stability of English dialect boundaries. English World-Wide 4: 1–15. Wales, Katie 2000 North and South: An English linguistic divide? English Today: The International Review of the English Language. 16: 4–15. 2002 ‘North of Watford’. A cultural history of northern English (from 1700). In: Watts and Trudgill (eds.), 45–66.

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Walker, John 1791 A Critical Pronouncing Dictionary. London: Robinson. Watt, Dominic and Lesley Milroy 1999 Patterns of variation in Newcastle vowels. In: Foulkes and Docherty (eds.), 25–46. Wright, Joseph 1892 A Grammar of the Dialect of Windhill in the West Riding of Yorkshire. London: English Dialect Society.

The English West Midlands: phonology* Urszula Clark

1.

Introduction

Today, the term West Midlands (WM) is generally used to refer to the conurbation that includes Wolverhampton, Birmingham, Walsall, West Bromwich and Coventry, and can also be used to refer to speech associated with the modern urban area, although the historical Middle English WM dialect covered a much wider area (see Hughes and Trudgill 1996: 85; Wells 1982: 364). Within the modern urban area at least two main dialect types can be identified: those of Birmingham, and those of the Black Country to the west. The Black Country dialect – currently the focus of a research project, the Black Country Dialect Project (BCDP) at the University of Wolverhampton – is often considered to be particularly distinctive. Wells (1982: 364) explains that the variety is linguistically notable for its retention of traditional dialect forms such as have disappeared from the rest of the Midlands. Chinn and Thorne (2001: 25) define the Black Country dialect as “a working class dialect spoken in the South Staffordshire area of the English Midlands”, and similarly note that it has “retained many of its distinctive lexico-grammatical features” (Chinn and Thorne 2001: 30). At the present state of BCDP research, it is as yet unclear how many of these forms may survive in widespread use, in the Black Country at least. It is also unclear whether and if so to what degree the dialect of the large but geographically distinct city of Coventry may differ from other West Midlands varieties. Therefore, while some data are also available from Cannock (Heath 1980), which is technically just outside the West Midlands administrative area, the term West Midlands will be taken to refer to Birmingham and the wider Black Country, unless explicitly stated otherwise. The wider Black Country here is taken to include Walsall, West Bromwich and Wolverhampton. According to Todd and Ellis (1992b), the Midland group of Middle English (ME) dialects can be considered to have had clearly defined boundaries: north of the Thames, south of a line from the rivers Humber to Lune, and with the Pennines subdividing the area into East and West Midlands sub-areas. Brook (1972: 68) maintains that the WM dialect of ME was intermediate between the East Midlands and South-Western dialects, with its southern part most resembling the latter. During the Old English period the region had been part of the Mercian dialect area,

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but following the Danish wars it came under the West-Saxon-speaking kingdom of Wessex, and it retained a closer connection with Wessex than the South-west, even after the unification of England. The result is that the ME dialect resembles the East Midlands in terms of early dialect characteristics, and the South-west in terms of later ones. Todd and Ellis (1992b) say some dialectologists consider the ME dialect boundaries as still significant in contemporary dialect research, but others maintain that the post-industrial urban dialects of cities like Birmingham and Wolverhampton now exert greater influence than those of rural areas. Chinn and Thorne (2001) suggest that Birmingham was clearly within the ME West Midlands dialect area: “Beginning as a place of some importance in 1166 when it first had a market, it was a town that was clearly embedded within its rural hinterland. For centuries it drew most of its people from the surrounding villages” (Chinn and Thorne 2001: 14–19). They cite evidence regarding the origins of 700 people who came to live in Birmingham between 1686 and 1726, to the effect that more than 90% came from within 20 miles of Birmingham; of these, more than 200 had migrated from within Warwickshire and a similar number from Staffordshire; almost 100 came from Worcestershire and some 40 from Shropshire. Of the remainder, about 60 came cumulatively from Leicester, Cheshire, Derbyshire, Lancashire and Middlesex, and another 50 from other parts of Britain. For Chinn and Thorne, it is not surprising that Birmingham speech should have evolved from the dialect of north Warwickshire, south Staffordshire and north-eastern Worcestershire – essentially encompassing the ME West Mercian dialect area. In the 19th century Birmingham attracted people from further afield (including Cornwall, Wales, Scotland, Ireland, Italy and the Jewish pale of settlement in Tsarist Russia), but Chinn and Thorne (2001: 19) maintain that “local migrants continued to form the great majority of newcomers, and as late as 1951, 71% of Birmingham’s citizens had been born in Warwickshire”. Biddulph (1986: 1) similarly suggests that the conurbation of the Black Country was populated largely from the surrounding farming counties of Worcestershire, Staffordshire, Warwickshire and Shropshire. The Black Country is a relatively small area, centring on the major towns of Dudley and Walsall, and probably including Wolverhampton, plus surrounding areas. One reason given for the distinctiveness of the Black Country dialect is its relative geographical isolation. The local area is essentially an 800ft plateau without a major river or Roman road passing through it, so it was only when the Industrial Revolution got into full swing in the 19th century that the area ceased to be relatively isolated from other developments in the country. During the Industrial Revolution, Birmingham, Wolverhampton and Walsall grew into large manufacturing towns, separated from the centre of the plateau by belts of open land which provided raw materials – iron and coal – for the heavy industries of the towns. Today’s urban areas were originally small villages which developed with the grow-

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ing industries, and with the exception of Birmingham these still have relatively small populations. Again with the exception of Birmingham, development in the region was relatively slow and the population remained relatively stable. Until the 1960s, there was no sudden influx of workers, immigrant or otherwise, who might have significantly altered the character of the area. Similarly, there was little out-migration, as the Black Country generally remained prosperous. As a result, there was little alteration in the population, and communities remained close-knit and generally introspective. Consequently, although the dialect is usually classed synchronically as an urban dialect, it has strong links with a recent, rural past and with traditional dialects. Indeed, the Survey of English Dialects (SED, Orton 1962-1971), a project which concentrates on the traditional dialect typical of rural areas, nevertheless includes the Black Country village of Himley among the Staffordshire localities covered. Data sources comprise: (1)

For the WM dialect generally: a. Ongoing work for the BCDP. The corpus used here comprises mainly younger and young middle-class speakers, especially from the Black Country; b. Wells (1982); c. Lass (1987); d. Hughes and Trudgill (1996); e. Todd and Ellis (1992a, 1992b); f. Material in Chinn and Thorne (2001).

(2)

For Black Country specifically: a. Mathisen (1999): the most extensive study accessed to date. Based on 30 hours of data from 57 informants, collected in Sandwell (Wednesbury, Tipton and Rowley Regis), 1984; b. Painter (1963): Data from three speakers in Rowley Regis, analysed in detail.. Note that Painter analyses Black Country in terms of a dialectspecific phonemic system; hence, his citations include both phonemic and phonetic forms; c. SED traditional dialect data for Himley (south Staffordshire), from non-mobile older rural males, collected in the 1960s; d. Biddulph (1986): a semi-professional analysis of the Black Country dialect writing material in Fletcher (1975). This includes an attempt at phonological analysis based on an interpretation of Fletcher’s respelling rules, combined with Birmingham-born Biddulph’s own claimed insights into WM accents. The particular variety represented by Fletcher is intended to be that of Bilston; e. Dialect writing material from the Black Country Bugle, the Walsall Observe, Chitham (1972), Parsons (1977), Solomon (2000), and

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various websites on the internet (see full bibliography on the CDROM). (3)

For Cannock (south Staffordshire): Heath (1980). Cannock is some nine miles north-east of Wolverhampton, eight miles north-west of Walsall, and according to Heath (1980: 1) “just outside the Black Country”.

(4)

For Middle English dialects of the West Midlands, Kristensson (1987; analysis based on place-name data).

(5)

For etymological analyses: Oxford English Dictionarly (OED).

Caution has to be exercised with the dialect writing material, since it may contain inaccuracies, sometimes due to archaising; that is, such forms often reflect canonical forms for dialect writers, which may in turn reflect traditional dialect forms that are now highly recessive or obsolete in terms of contemporary usage. Some distinctive forms, which may indeed be obsolete or recessive, act fairly clearly as identity markers within the Black Country at least: e.g. [dZEd] dead, [lÅf] laugh, [saft] soft ‘stupid’, [I´z] years.

2.

Vowels

Table 1.

Summary of “typical” West Midlands vowels BC (Himley) (O/B)

BC (R. Regis) (CP)

BC (S’well) (AM)

Bm WM (RL) (JW)

WM (BCDP)

KIT

I

I>i

I

I

I

I > I¢

DRESS

E

e>E

E

E

E

E

TRAP

a>Q

a

Q > Q˘

a

a

a > a≠ > Q

LOT

Å>U

ç

Å>ç

Å

Å

Š> ţ

STRUT

U>Å

Å>U

Å>U>´

U>ÅU>√

U>F Å

ONE FOOT

U

U

U

U

U

U>F

BATH

a

a > A˘

Q>a

a

a

a > a˘ > Å˘

CLOTH

Å

ç(˘)

Å>ç

–

Å

Å

NURSE

´˘ > ´˘®

e´

´ > ´˘

Œ˘

Œ˘

Œ˘ ~ ø˘

FLEECE

i˘ > I > EI

´I

i˘ > Ii > ´i

Ii

i˘

Ii > ´i > i˘

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Table 1. (continued)

Summary of “typical” West Midlands vowels

BC (Himley) (O/B)

BC (R. Regis) (CP)

BC (S’well) (AM)

Bm WM (RL) (JW)

WM (BCDP)

FACE

EI > QI

QI ~ e

QI > EI

√I

√I

EI ~ QI > √I ~ eI

PALM

A˘

A˘

A˘

–

A˘

A˘ > Å˘

ç˘

o˘

ç˘

ç˘

ç˘

THOUGHT GOAT

oU > U

oU ~ ´u

aU ~ çU

√U

√U

√U > EU > QU

GOOSE

u˘ > U

u˘ ~ çU ~ ´u

u˘

u˘

u˘

¨˘ > ´¨ I´¨ > Iu

NEW PRICE

aI ~ ÅI

AI

aI ~ AI > çI ÅI

ÅI

ÅI > aI

CHOICE

çI > ÅI

oI

çI

ÅI

ÅI

ç£I

MOUTH

aU > QU

EU

QU ~ EU

QU

QU

QU > EU ~ aU

NEAR

I´ > e´

i´

i˘´ > I´

–

–

i´ > I´ > E´ > e´

SQUARE

E(®)

I´ > E´

E˘

E˘

E˘

E´ > E˘ ~ ´˘

START NORTH

A˘ > a˘

–

A˘

A˘

A˘ > Å˘

ç˘ > ç˘(®)

o´

ç˘

A˘ –

ç˘

ç£˘

FORCE

ç˘ > 碴

o´

√U´ > ç˘

–

√U´ > ç˘

ç£˘

CURE

u˘´

u´

u˘´ > ç˘

–

u˘´ > U´ U´

happY

I

Ii

Ii > i˘

i˘

i˘

Ii > i˘

lettER

´

´

´

´>Œ

I

´ –

´

horsES

I

I

I

I~i>´

commA

´

´

´

´

´

´>å

Key: Bm BC R. Regis S’well WM

= = = = =

Birmingham Black Country Rowley Regis Sandwell West Midlands

AM BCDP CP JW O/B RL

= = = = = =

Mathisen (1999) Black Country Dialect Project Painter (1963) Wells (1982) Orton and Barry (1998 [1969]) Lass (1987)

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139

The WM dialect as a Northern variety

It is widely recognised that the broader WM dialect, located as it is just on the Northern side of the main North-South dialect isoglosses, has features typical of both Northern and Southern British English accents (see Todd and Ellis 1992b). As Wells (1982: 349, 353) explains, the main isoglosses dividing North from South are the FOOT-STRUT split and BATH-broadening. Under such a criterion, the linguistic North includes the Midlands, incorporating the Birmingham-Wolverhampton conurbation, i.e., the West Midlands. Wells notes that the local accent of the WM dialect is markedly different from that of the East Midlands, although there is a transitional area including Stoke and Derby. Trudgill (1999; see also Hughes and Trudgill 1996: 85) provides a fuller list involving nine diagnostic features for British English dialects. In terms of this analysis, the West Midlands: (1)

lacks a FOOT-STRUT distinction (shared with Northern Anglo-English varieties; note “fudged” realisations [Hughes and Trudgill 1996: 55]);

(2)

lacks a TRAP-BATH distinction (shared with Northern Anglo-English varieties);

(3)

has happY-tensing (shared with Southern Irish, many Northern, and with Anglo-Welsh and Southern accents);

(4)

is non-rhotic (like most varieties of British English except those of the South-West, parts of Wales and the North of England, and those of Scotland and Ireland);

(5)

distinguishes FOOT from GOOSE and LOT from THOUGHT (like most varieties of British English except Scots);

(6)

has /h/-dropping as a normal feature (like most varieties of British English except those of the South-West, Wales, parts of the North of England, Scotland and Ireland);

(7)

has velar nasal plus – i.e. the possibility of [Ng] in cases where other varieties have [N] or [n] (occurring in a band stretching from the West Midlands as far as Lancashire, and including the urban vernaculars of the WM dialect, Stoke, Manchester, Liverpool and Sheffield);

(8)

retains yod in the NEW subset of GOOSE (like most varieties of British English except those of the East Midlands, South Midlands and East Anglia);

(9)

has broad diphthongs for FACE and GOAT (shared with other Midlands varieties, the South-East and East Anglia). As Hughes and Trudgill (1996:

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66) note, Southern and Midlands dialects have undergone long mid diphthonging (Wells 1982: 210–211), such that the more southerly an accent is, the wider are its FACE and GOAT diphthongs. Such an analysis supports the contention that the WM accent evidences features typical of both the Northern and Southern dialect types. Typical Northern features include (1) and (2), whereas more typically Southern features include (3) and (9) (as well as partial PRICE-CHOICE merger, shared with some London accents). Of the two main North-South isoglosses (for FOOT-STRUT and TRAP-BATH), the former clearly runs to the South of the West Midlands, while the situation for the latter is much less clear. However, it is perhaps significant that the WM dialect also shares features particularly with North-Western varieties, including (7), as well as [u˘] in the BOOK subset of GOOSE, and [Å] in the ONE subset of STRUT. Trudgill’s (1999: 68) diagnostic test sentence, “Very few cars made it up the long hill”, would therefore yield, for the West Midlands generally, something close to the following: very fyoow cahs meid it oop the longg ill [»vE®i˘ »fju˘ »kha˘z »mEId It Up D´ »lÅNg »Il] For Birmingham (Bm) and the Black Country (BC) specifically (and more precisely), the following broad-accent realisations would probably be typical: Birmingham: [»vE®Ii »fj¨˘ »kha˘z »m√Id ith Uph D´ »lÅNg »Il] Black Country: [»vE®Ii »fIu˘ »kha˘z »mQId ith Uph D´ »lUNg »Fl] Wells (1982: 363) claims the shifted diphthongs in parts of the WM dialect system resemble London diphthongs, while other parts of the system resemble more typically Northern accents. Wells (1982: 351–353) notes that in the area that has not undergone the FOOTSTRUT split there is sociolinguistic variation with the prestige norm. In the WM conurbation probably all speakers distinguish STRUT from FOOT, although the distinction is variably realised and sometimes of uncertain incidence. For instance, he notes that Heath’s (1980) study of Cannock found that all except the lowest of five socio-economic classes had some kind of opposition. Wells notes that intermediate accents or speech styles may have either a fudge between STRUT and FOOT, such as [U£ ~ F ~ √_ ~ ´£ ~ ´], or hypercorrect avoidance of [U] in FOOT, for example as [´]. However, Wells notes that short-vowel BATH is retained higher up the social scale than unsplit FOOT-STRUT. Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 55) also comment on the fudging issue, maintaining that it is especially younger middle-class speakers in the south Midlands who tend to fudge the vowel. The phenomenon is also dealt with in some detail in Upton (1995).

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141

The WM dialect as a distinctive variety

Gugerell-Scharsach (1992) is an attempt to discover whether the Middle English WM dialect as defined by Moore, Meech and Whitehall (1935) can be traced in the SED material. Glauser (1997: 93) notes that Moore, Meech and Whitehall defined their WM dialect with the help of a single phonological feature, ME /o/ before nasals, locating it in a semicircular territory with the Welsh border as its diameter and reaching as far east as Derbyshire and Warwickshire. Glauser further notes that 19th-century evidence in favour of a single WM dialect is scanty, with Wright (1905) showing no east-west divide at all, Bonaparte (1875–1876) setting up an area similar to the ME one, and Ellis (1889) delimiting the WM with the aid of the criterion used by Moore Meech and Whitehall. Glauser says the SED still documents TRAP/BATH rounding before nasals in much the same area Moore, Meech and Whitehall did, but notes (1997: 95) that Gugerell-Scharsach finds herself able to identify (partially using phonological data) three main WM dialect areas from the SED data, namely a Staffordshire, a Shropshire and a Southern WM dialect. Of these, the dialects of the WM urban conurbation are likely to constitute the latter grouping. Brook (1972: 68–69) claims that certain phonological features can indeed be taken to be characteristic of a WM (traditional) dialect area, the most important being: (1)

Retention of late ME /Ng/ as WM [Ng], where other dialects have [N] (e.g. in among, hang, sing, tongue);

(2)

Rounding of ME /a/ and /o/ to WM [Å] before nasal consonants, where other dialects have [a ~ Q] (the correlation highlighted by Moore, Meech and Whitehall 1935). However, Wakelin notes (1981: 164) that in parts of the WM, with great variation from word to word, [Å] occurs in other positions also (e.g. rat, apples, latch); also Brook (1972: 68) points out that OE /a/ before nasals remained /a/ under non-heavy stress);

(3)

OE /o/ tended to become ME /u/ before /Ng/; see LOT below.

Chinn and Thorne (2001: 22) propose that the WM accent once had much more in common with general Northern speech, but has been gradually pulled in the direction of prestige Southern variants (see his data on LOT below). 2.3.

Birmingham versus Black Country

According to Gibson (1955, cited in Heath 1980: 87), it is apparent “even to the casual visitor” that the phonetic system of the Black Country differs fundamentally from that of other localities in the neighbourhood of the Black Country – or at least, it was so in the 1950s. However, Heath (1980: 87) considers this an exaggerated claim.

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Biddulph (1986: 17) claims (anecdotally) to have noted significant differences between the Black Country (Bilston) dialect as represented by Fletcher (1975), and his own native dialect, that of the Nechells area of Birmingham. Specific differences he proposes would seem to include (at least): (1)

MOUTH: Bilston [a˘] versus Nechells [EU];

(2)

TRAP/BATH: Bilston [Å] versus Nechells [Q] before nasal consonants;

(3)

D: Bilston [dZ] versus Nechells [d] in dead, death;

(4)

H: Bilston [j] versus Nechells ∅ in head;

(5)

H: Bilston ∅ versus Nechells [j] in year.

2.4.

Prosodic features

Wells (1982) points out that many Northern dialects, the WM dialect included, tend not to reduce vowels in unstressed Latinate prefixes (e.g. con-, ex-) as much as do RP and Southern-based varieties. Such a tendency was indeed noted in the BCDP audio data. Although relatively little work has so far been done on dialect intonation, Wells (1982: 91) points out that certain British accents (including Birmingham, Liverpool, Newcastle and Glasgow) appear to have some tendency to use rising tones where most other accents have falling tones. Such tendencies are also noted by Biddulph (1986: 3), who suggests that WM speech characteristically has a “peculiar” intonation involving terminal raising in statements, as well as negative verbs (such as wasn’t/weren’t) taking a markedly high tone. Wells (1982: 93) also points out that the working-class accents of the WM dialect (as well as Liverpool and some New York) characteristically have a velarised voice quality (with the centre of gravity of the tongue backer and higher than for other accents). 2.5.

Vowels

KIT

All data sources indicate a characteristic strong tendency towards high realisations for the WM dialect – BCDP [i£] or even [i]; Wells (1982: 28, 363) and Mathisen (1999: 108) close to [i]; Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 85–86) [IÀ]. Chinn and Thorne (2001: 20) note /i/-like realisations as typical of Birmingham in both stressed and unstressed position, e.g. in stressed lip, symbol, women; also unstressed women, ladies, lettuce, private, bracelet, chocolate, necklace, harness. Painter (1963: 30– 31) has Black Country /I/, realised as stressed [i≠] and unstressed [I£], with sporadic stressed [E_I] and unstressed [e_]. Heath (1980: 87) has [I£] for Cannock.

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Audio and written data also suggest that in the WM dialect generally there is a tendency to lower KIT to [F] or [´] before /l/ (which typically appears to be dark), e.g. in will (as dialect spellings such as Bm , BC suggest). That there has been a historical tendency towards backing before /l/ is suggested by Kristensson’s (1987: 209) claim that /y/ in forms derived from OE hyll ‘hill’ was retained at least until the ME period in place names in much of the WM area, including Staffordshire, Warwickshire and Shropshire. DRESS

Most data sources suggest [E], including BCDP and Mathisen (1999: 108). However, Painter (1963: 30–31) records BC /e/, realised as [e_], with sporadic [E] > [e ~ E£]. Heath (1980: 87) has [E] for Cannock. Furthermore, the BCDP data indicate that before /l/ (which is typically dark) there is a strong tendency towards lowering and/or breaking (e.g. [we´…], [wF…], well). There is some written evidence for BC lowering to [a], especially before /l/ in belly, bellows, belluck ‘to bellow’, but also in other environments, e.g. zed, frenzy ‘fretful’. Similar realisations occur in the SED data for localities close to Black Country. Written data also suggest possible [I]-type realisations in some words, e.g. Bm ‘get’, Bm/BC ‘pebble’. TRAP

As noted, the WM dialect, being a Northern accent, generally lacks a TRAP/BATH distinction. Most data sources suggest a typical realisation [a] (BCDP; Painter 1963: 30), with a tendency in more formal styles to approximate to [Q] (BCDP). Chinn and Thorne (2001: 20) note [a]-like realisations as typical of Bm in e.g. cat, plait, and Heath (1980: 87) also has [a] for Cannock. For Sandwell (Black Country), Mathisen (1999: 107) found the TRAP vowel to be fronter than most Northern varieties, closer to [Q] and very short. The older, overlong [Q˘˘] occurred occasionally, even among teenagers. There is also evidence, although so far mainly only from written, SED or informants’ anecdotal material, for rounding of TRAP (to [Å]) especially before nasals. This may in fact be the only phonological characteristic of the historical WM dialect area (see section 2.2. above), although its relative absence from the interview material may indicate it is now recessive. Pre-nasal examples include: Bm/ BC hammer; BC clamber; Bm/BC man, danny ‘hand’; BC can (v.), pan, hand, sand, stand, circumstances; Bm/BC bank ‘hillock’; Bm Banksmen ‘Black-Countrymen’; Bm danky ‘damp, dank’; BC rank.

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As also noted in section 2.2. above, Wakelin (1977: 96) points out that rounding of ME [a] to WM [Å] can occur other than prenasally. Written examples in other environments include: BC scrabble/scramble ‘tangle’, apple, that, gabble; Bm/BC baffle ‘hinder; thwart’; BC matches, shall, galloping, valve. There is written evidence for TRAP-raising in some words, e.g. Bm ass-hole, BC catch, Bm catch-pit, raddle, slack ‘small coal’. Many of these forms are evidenced in the SED material. LOT

The BCDP data indicate that the WM dialect typically has [Å], with some raising. However, for Sandwell, Mathisen (1999: 108) characterises the LOT vowel as [Å > ç], and Painter (1963: 30–31) has BC /ç/, realised as [ç], with sporadic (rare) [U_]. Heath (1980: 87) has [Å] for Cannock. The [U]-type realisations are particularly interesting. Chinn and Thorne (2001: 21–22, 30) suggest that for Bm speakers, LOT is typically [Å ~ U], with [Å] especially for younger speakers and [U] especially for WC and/or older speakers. He claims that the latter pronunciation is still largely retained in the Black Country and the more westerly parts of Birmingham; as noted above, he suggests the historically Northern-type WM accent has been influenced by Southern variants. There is indeed evidence (especially written, but some audio) for [U] realisations (especially before nasals, and especially /N/), e.g. Bm long; BC song, wrong, from, bonfire, Enoch, was. This alternation would seem to go back to ME times: as noted above, Brook (1972: 69) claims as a defining characteristic of the Middle English WM dialect the tendency for OE /o/_ to become ME /u/ before /Ng/. There is written evidence for unrounded realisations in words such as BC drop, shops; similar failure to round also occurs in some cases of CLOTH (e.g. soft, wasp) and THOUGHT (e. g. water); see below. STRUT

As noted above, the WM dialect maintains the typically Northern lack of distinction between STRUT and FOOT, with STRUT typically realised as [U]. However, the BCDP data revealed a tendency in more formal styles to produce a more RP-like fudge vowel with [F]. Wells (1982: 363) claims that the Bm FOOT-STRUT opposition is apparently variably neutralised (e.g. as [F]), while Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 55) have WM [U > ´]. Broad WM accents typically have [U], less broad accents [´].Chinn and Thorne (2001: 21) indicate that in Bm, STRUT is typically [U], e.g. in tuck, putt, cud, stud, while Heath (1980: 87) also has [U] for Cannock. In the subset ONE, the WM dialect is typical in having [Å] (see Hughes and Trudgill 1996: 55; Chinn and Thorne 2001: 21). Wells notes (1982: 362) that there

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is a difference in lexical incidence from RP and many other accents as regards this subset, in that parts of the North (including Birmingham, Stoke, Liverpool, Manchester and Sheffield) have [Å] in one; accents in a more restricted area also have this vowel in once, among, none, nothing. However, Mathisen (1999: 108) claims that Sandwell actually has [Å] as the most common variant, for all generations, and especially in words where most Northern varieties have [U]. It occurs frequently with the elderly, in all phonetic contexts, and especially before /l/ and /N/_ for younger speakers (as the BCDP data also suggest). Mathisen also notes the appearance of fudge-type, closer variants (occasionally even [´]), especially in disyllables and quite frequently among teenagers in monitored speech. Painter (1963: 30), too, notes a lower rounded vowel: BC /o/, realised as [o+]. One salient feature (attested in speech as well as writing) is [Å]-type realisations (especially before nasals) in Bm mum; Bm/BC lummox, aqueduct, bust(ing), Bm chuck (v.) (note chuck may derive from French chuquer, choquer ‘to knock’). FOOT

Chinn and Thorne’s (2001: 21) analysis suggests Bm speakers typically have [U], e.g. took, put, could, stood. BCDP data show that FOOT is typically [U]. However, there is some tendency towards (probably hypercorrect) unrounding to [F], particularly for younger speakers. Painter (1963: 30) has BC /U/, realised as [U£]. Wells (1982: 362) and Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 55) point out that there is a difference of lexical incidence in much of the North in that several words spelt (the subset BOOK) have kept their historically long vowel, [u˘]. This is evidenced in the BCDP data, although it is recessive, and Wells notes that Birmingham conversely has some shortened vowels in [tUT] tooth, which is echoed in some of the SED data. Heath (1980: 87) has Cannock [U]. BATH

As an essentially Northern accent, the WM dialect generally lacks a TRAP/BATH distinction. According to the BCDP data (and see Hughes and Trudgill 1996: 55), BATH is typically [a]. Some speakers (in more formal registers) may have long realisations. According to Painter (1963: 30) BC has /a/, realised as [a]. Heath (1980: 87) has Cannock [a], while Chinn and Thorne’s (2001: 20) analysis similarly suggests that for Bm speakers, BATH is typically [a], e.g. in fast, mask, grass, bath, daft, after, chance, command. However, he suggests that this is a relatively recent development, since older speakers often produce a long sound similar to Cockney [A˘]. Mathisen (1999: 108) notes [Q] predominantly for Sandwell, with typically Northern [a] occurring less commonly, perhaps associated especially with older males. Middle-class users (especially females in monitored speech) sometimes use [A˘].

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There is evidence that some speakers (particularly in Birmingham rather than in the Black Country) may have a TRAP-BATH contrast. Chinn and Thorne (2001: 20) provide written evidence for long vowels in Bm last ([a˘]? [A˘]), can’t ([ç˘]); also after (although compensation for /f/loss could also be implicated here; see F below). They claim that many working-class Bm speakers vary between a “short and long vowel sound” for after ([A˘ft´]) and ([aft´]), also vs . Such a distinction may be what is intended in the spelling BC asked. However, there is also written evidence for a short, rounded realisation ([Å]) in laugh(ing). CLOTH

According to the BCDP data, this vowel is typically [Å]; Wells (1982: 357) notes that CLOTH is short throughout the North. Although there is written evidence for long vowels ([ç˘]) in Bm hospital, off, there is also written and audio evidence for a more widespread process: unrounding. A salient example involves the locally distinctive pronunciations of soft ‘stupid’. Mathisen (1999: 108) notes that many adults in Sandwell have [saft], while older speakers may have [sQft ~ sEft]. Such pronunciations, indicated by the typical Bm/BC dialect spelling , are claimed by Chinn and Thorne (2001: 141) to be especially typical of Black Country; these forms may perhaps be compared to Early OE se#fte. For failure to round following /w/ (as in wasp), see W below. Unrounding may also affect some LOT words; see LOT above. NURSE

The BCDP data indicate that NURSE is somewhat variable, between [ø˘ ~ Œ˘]. Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 55) have WM [ø˘]. According to Wells (1982: 360–361, 363), Northern accents often have [Œ˘], but some western Midland accents (such as Birmingham and Stoke) typically have [´¢˘ ~ ˆ£˘]. He suggests that merger with SQUARE may variably occur in the WM dialect (probably as [Œ˘]). For Sandwell, Mathisen (1999: 108–109) notes that while teenagers and elderly both typically have [´£˘], teenage women and middle-class speakers prefer the RP-type [´˘]. Some speakers, especially the elderly and working class, have [´±]. Heath (1980: 87) has Cannock [´£˘]. Painter (1963: 30) has BC /e_´/, realised as [´£´4]. He notes that speakers using [e_´] for NEAR do not also use the “common free variant” [e_´] for NURSE. Written evidence (note conventions) suggests a typically non-RP-like pronunciation in various cases. Given that typically the same conventional spellings are used as for (some) FACE, START and THOUGHT words, the intended pronunciation may be in the region of [e´ ~ e˘], which may in turn represent a merger or nearmerger for dialect writers. Examples include:

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(1)

Bm Birmingham, turned; Bm/BC turnip(s); Bm Gertie; BC shirty; Bm thirteen; BC burke; Bm works; BC circumstances; Bm Herbert, disturbed; BC heard, Bm bird, BC word, occurred; Bertha, birthday, nurse, purse, curse, first; Bm thirst, nerves, service, Worthington’s; BC purchase, church; Bm early; BC world.

(2)

Bm/BC work; Bm shirt; BC words, turn(ed).

(3)

Bm Pershore.

(4)

BC working.

There is written evidence for shortened realisations ([U]) before historical /rs/ in BC first (though compare ), purse, curse (but compare ; see also Wells [1982: 356]), worse, worst (but compare ). Written evidence also suggests shortened realisations in Bm/BC guernsey ‘long johns’ ([a]) and BC girl ([E]). FLEECE

The BCDP data confirm that, as in South-East England, there is a definite tendency towards diphthongisation, typically [Ii]; compare GOOSE. Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 55) have WM [Œi], while Mathisen (1999: 109) maintains that in Sandwell, diphthongal variants often occur, especially with working-class and elderly speakers. Painter (1963: 30) has BC /´I/, realised as [´£I], with sporadic unstressed [I ~ e_I]. Wells (1982: 357) notes that FLEECE merger has not fully carried through everywhere in the North, so that one can find the historical opposition preserved, especially in traditional dialect, but also in some less broad dialects. For example, a distinction is found in Staffordshire between MEET [EI] and MEAT [i˘]. Wells (1982: 363) notes, for Birmingham, [Ii ~ ´i]. It is possible that some speakers (particularly in Black Country) may retain a distinction between MEET and MEAT. Chinn and Thorne (2001: 21) maintain that Bm speakers’ realisation of FLEECE is typically “closer to an ‘ay’ sound” ([´i ~ Ii]), e.g. need, these, disease, piece, receive, key, quay, people, machine. Indeed, there is considerable written evidence for Bm/BC diphthongisation (to [Ii ~ ´i]), possibly representing (partial?) lack of operation of the FLEECE merger (or MEET-MEAT merger). Various spellings are employed, especially representing StE spellings (i.e. representing Middle English /E˘/):

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e.g. Bm peas; Bm speak; BC Enoch, key; Bm/BC tea; Bm neither

e.g. Bm/BC heave, neither, either

e.g. BC flea, tea e.g. Bm tedious; BC speak, clean, cheat, steal

= StE , , = StE , = StE

= StE

Chinn and Thorne (2001: 138–139) note that many local Birmingham placenames with spellings in have a FACE-type pronunciation, e.g. (River) , (Street). There appears to be a potential shortening (to []) before obstruent in BC cheap. Chinn and Thorne also note that short [I] is usual in week, seen, been, a claim supported for Black Country also by written, SED and audio evidence (apparently for shortening before an obstruent), but especially involving words with spellings (i.e. usually derived from ME /e˘/).Examples include BC be; Bm/BC been; BC (thou) art; Bm/ BC seen; BC seed ‘seen’; BC keeping; Bm/ BC week (from OE wice); BC weak, Hayseech Brook. Heath (1980: 87) has [ïi] for Cannock. FACE

This is one of the few variables for which there appears to be a consistent difference between the Black Country and Birmingham conurbations. As Wells (1982: 210–211) explains, the West Midlands variety has undergone long mid diphthonging, producing diphthongs rather than pure vowels in FACE. It appears from the BCDP data that Birmingham typically has [√I], much as in South-East England, while the Black Country typically has [QI]. In more formal styles, [EI] occurs in both areas. According to Wells (1982: 357), the long mid mergers (see also GOAT) were generally carried through in the Midlands, so that distinctions are no longer made between pairs like mane and main. Mathisen (1999: 109) maintains that Sandwell speakers typically have [Qi], compared to Bm [√i]; elderly speakers also have [Ei], or [E] as in TAKE. Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 55) have WM [QI]. Painter (1963: 30) similarly has BC /QI/, realised as [a_I], alternating with /e/, realised as [e_], the latter presumably in the TAKE subset. Chinn and Thorne (2001: 22) maintain that Bm speakers’ realisation here is typically “very open, similar to (…) Cockney speakers” ([√I]), e.g. in break, way, waist, weight. However, he notes [E] in various verb forms of the TAKE subset, e.g. make, made, take.

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There is evidence for various non-short realisations (quality unclear – possibly [QI]). See also NURSE, START, THOUGHT, PALM, where the same written convention may be used:





e.g. Bm potato; BC apron, baked, basin, cake, case, ale, pasting, papers, thrape “a hiding”, waste e.g. BC name e.g. BC face, mate, potato e.g. Bm bacon, cake e.g. BC rain, pain, taste, Eli (possibly ‘eye-dialect’?) e.g. BC weight, neighbours, waiting

= StE = StE = StE = StE = StE ; , = StE ,

There is evidence (written, also audio) for various short-vowel realisations, apparently: (1)

[E] in verb forms in Bm ain’t; Bm/ BC take/taking; Bm/ BC make/making/made (the TAKE subset).

(2)

[I] in Bm ain’t/ain’t half (isn’t/isn’t half), again(st), (also Bm/ BC ) always. Note especially [I] or [i˘] in Bm causeway (as in other dialects, e.g. North-eastern place-name Causey Arch).

(3)

[a] in Bm/ BC baby.

Heath (1980: 87) has [EI] for Cannock. PALM

Data from the BCDP, Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 55) and Mathisen (1999: 109) suggest that the WM dialect typically has [A˘]; Wells (1982: 360) claims this is typical of the Midland cities. Chinn and Thorne (2001: 23) similarly maintain that Bm speakers’ realisation here is typically long ([A˘]), e.g. half, aunt, laugh, laughter. Painter (1963: 30) has BC /a/, realised as [a], apparently alternating with /A˘/, realised as [A±˘]. There is written evidence for a BC pronunciation of (grand)father possibly in the region of [e´ ~ eI], with spellings , and (as for NURSE and FACE).

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THOUGHT

BCDP found that THOUGHT was typically higher than RP, i.e. [ç£˘]. Mathisen (1999: 109) maintains that Sandwell speakers typically have [ç˘], while Painter (1963: 30) has BC /o˘/, realised as [o4˘]. There is written evidence for BC shortening (to [Å]) before stops in broad, awkward and for BC failure to undergo rounding, along with other processes: (1)

apparently to [a˘] in daub, haunchbone;

(2)

in always;

(3)

after /w/ in , ; see section 3 below.

GOAT

According to the BCDP data, typically [√U]. Before /l/, there is a tendency for onset lowering (e.g. GOAL [gQU…]). It is possible that some speakers, particularly in the Black Country, may retain a lack of distinction between NOSE and KNOWS, although according to Wells (1982: 357), the long mid mergers (see also FACE) were generally carried through in the Midlands (typical realisations being [çU ~ √U]). Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 55) have WM [√U], while Mathisen (1999: 109) has [aU > çU] for Sandwell. Painter (1963: 30) has BC /çU/, realised as [ç4U], with sporadic [åU ~ åU_], as well as sporadic [u_ ~ ç4w´] or (rare) [e_U_], while Chinn and Thorne (2001: 22) maintain that Bm speakers’ realisation here is typically “something similar to ‘ow’” ([´¨]), e.g. in do, mood, rude, group, flew, shoe, juice, blue. There is some evidence (mostly written, some audio) for lack of a NOSE/KNOWS merger, in the form of /U/-type vowels at least in forms of the verb go (e.g. Bm ), as well as home, won’t half, don’t. Chinn and Thorne (2001: 160) claim that the feature also occurs in home in Worcestershire and Black Country, although in the latter case is said to be more frequent. In fact, the written material may provide evidence for lack of NOSE/KNOWS merger: words especially with StE may be respelt as follows (suggesting something like [U ~ uU ~ u˘]):



e.g. Bm/ BC go; BC bone, whole, Jones = StE e.g. BC coat = StE e.g. Bm home, go, don’ t; Bm/ BC home; BC so = StE

There is also some written evidence for variable [ç˘]-type realisations in Bm/ BC / groat(s) (cf. , but also ). Heath (1980: 87) has [ç4U > çU] for Cannock.

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GOOSE

The BCDP data indicate that as in South-East England, there is a definite tendency towards diphthongisation, typically [´¨]; compare FLEECE. Also as in the SouthEast, there is some tendency towards fronting, particularly among younger people. In the subset NEW, it appears that Black Country speakers (at least) typically have older [IU] rather than [ju˘]. Wells (1982: 359, 363) notes that Northern accents usually have [u˘ ~ Uu], but [u˘ ~ ´u] is characteristic of Bm and some other urban dialects. Some speakers retain contrastive [u] in words of the NEW subset, like blue, suit, although this appears to be quite sharply recessive against the RP-type [u˘ ~ ju˘], so that there is a tendency to lose the historical distinction between threw and through. Traditional-dialect possibilities include [EU] in parts of Staffordshire and Derbyshire, although Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 55) have WM [Eu]. Mathisen (1999: 109) notes [u˘] generally, but diphthongised variants for older Sandwell speakers, while Painter (1963: 30) has BC /u_/, realised as [u+˘], alternating with /çU/, realised as [ç4U], with sporadic [u_ ~ ç£w´] or (rare) [e_U_]. There is written evidence for an [ç˘]-type realisation in Bm ‘chew’ (compare, for example, US dialects; OE ce#owan), for an [a˘]-type realisation in WM (if this = moody; compare other dialects, e.g. Yorkshire ), and for early shortening to [Å] in Bm (OE go#s). A typical feature of the WM dialect is that of markedly diphthongal realisations in (stressed) you-forms. Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 85) characterise a Walsall speaker as having [jau], while Chinn and Thorne (2001: 168) claim that, typically, Bm has ([j√U]) and BC has ([jaU]). For BC, you-forms – including e.g. you’d, you’ve, you’m (the latter being the contracted form of dialectal you am) – are often conventionally represented as , , . Analysis of usage in Bm/BC dialect writing suggests that represent stressed forms like [jaU], [j√U], while / represents unstressed forms like [j´]. Biddulph (1986: 12) suggests that written forms such as should be taken to represent [jQw] or [jQww]. Heath (1980: 87) has [´£u_] for Cannock. PRICE

The BCDP evidence suggests that WM PRICE is typically [ÅI] but approaches [aI] in more formal registers. Wells (1982: 358, 363) notes that the Midlands rang from most typical [AI] to [ÅI ~ çI]. PRICE-CHOICE merger may be possible because the [ÅI ~ oI] opposition is apparently variably neutralisable, often as [çI] (see CHOICE). Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 55) have WM [çi], while Chinn and Thorne (2001: 22) maintain that speakers with broad Bm accents barely differentiate the vowel sounds in five and noise. Mathisen (1999: 109) claims [çi] occurs “occasional[ly]”

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in Sandwell, allowing potential merger with CHOICE, while Painter (1963: 30–31) has BC /AI/, realised as [A+I], with sporadic unstressed [A+˘]. Heath (1980: 87) has Cannock [A_I]. CHOICE

As noted above, PRICE-CHOICE confusion may occur in the WM dialect due to merger under [çI]. However, there is also written evidence for PRICE-CHOICE confusion as [aI], in Bm choice, ‘mischievous or disobedient boy’ (according to Chinn and Thorne [2001: 126] apparently from anointer, cf. anointed (by the devil?); also BC boiled, spoil(t). Heath (1980: 87) has Cannock [ç£I]. MOUTH

The BCDP data suggest that as in South-East England, MOUTH is typically [QU] > [EU], approaching [aU] in more formal styles. Wells (1982: 359) notes that MOUTH is generally of the [aU]-type in the Midlands, although there is quite a lot of phonetic variation. Bm typically has [QU > Q´], although realisations like [EU] are not as common as in the South. Mathisen (1999: 109–110) notes that Sandwell speakers usually have [Qu ~ Eu], with an occasional [eu] among working-class males. She adds that MOUTHGOOSE merger may be possible. Painter (1963: 30) has BC /E_U/, realised as [E_U], with sporadic [E_U_ ~ E_˘ ~ E_´ ~ å˘]. There is written evidence for: (1)

monophthongal realisations in Bm/BC / down; Bm round, about, thou; BC our;

(2)

raised onsets (of [QU ~ EU]-type) in Bm down, gown; BC our;

(3)

reduction to schwa when unstressed, in BC brew-house, glass-house.

Heath (1980: 87) has [a_U] for Cannock. NEAR

The BCDP data indicate typical [I´ ~ i´]. Wells (1982: 361) notes that the more conservative Northern accents have disyllabic (but recessive) [i˘´]. Mathisen (1999: 110) notes [i´] for all Sandwell speakers, also /i˘/ with linking /r/, while Painter (1963: 30–31) has BC /I´/, realised as [I´], evidencing a (potential) NEAR-SQUARE merger. There is written evidence for an /e´/-type realisation in near. Heath (1980: 87) has [ïi´] for Cannock.

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SQUARE

The BCDP data indicate that SQUARE typically has [E´ > E˘ ~ ´˘]. According to Wells (1982: 361), merger with NURSE may variably occur in the WM dialect (probably as [Œ˘]). Where there is no merger, Northern speakers often have monophthongal [E˘]. Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 55) have WM [ø˘], evidencing NEAR-SQUARE merger. Mathisen (1999: 110) holds that most speakers have a monophthong, although some older speakers may have [E´], while Painter (1963: 30) has BC /I´/, realised as [I´], but alternating with /E_´/, realised as [E4´ ~ E´]. Again, these can be interpreted as instances of NEAR-SQUARE merger. A similar phenomenon can be observed for onset raising (apparently yielding [I´]) in Bm/BC / there, where, for which there is written evidence. Heath (1980: 87) has [E˘] for Cannock. START

The BCDP data indicate typical [A˘]. Wells (1982: 360) notes that this is typical of the Midland cities. Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 55) also have WM [A˘], but Painter (1963: 30) has BC /a/, realised as [a], apparently alternating with /A˘/, realised as [A+˘]. Heath (1980: 87) has [A_˘] for Cannock. NORTH

The BCDP data indicate typical [ç£˘], although some speakers may retain a NORTHFORCE distinction (see FORCE). However, Wells (1982: 360) notes that Northern speakers typically have [ç˘], which is being extended to the FORCE set. Painter (1963: 30) has BC /o˘/, realised as [o4˘], alternating with /o´/, realised as [o+´], while Heath (1980: 87) has Cannock [ç+˘]. FORCE

The BCDP data indicate typical [ç£˘]. As noted, some speakers may retain a NORTHFORCE distinction, with FORCE having [√U´] instead. Older speakers of the WM dialect may retain [U´ ~ o´]. Mathisen (1999: 108) has Sandwell [jaU] your (see -forms under GOOSE above) while Painter (1963: 30) has BC /o˘/, realised as [o4˘]. There is written evidence for: (1)

an [√u´]-type realisation in Bm four (OE fe#ower), BC your (versus unstressed );

(2)

raising (to [u˘]) in BC courting.

Heath (1980: 87) has Cannock [ç´˘]. CURE

The BCDP data indicate that [ç£˘] is typical (especially for younger speakers); [u´] is common for older speakers. Indeed, Wells (1982: 361) notes that the more con-

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servative Northern accents have [u˘´] or even [Iu´], although these are receding in the face of the RP-type [ç˘]. Chinn and Thorne (2001: 22) maintain that Bm speakers’ realisation here is typically “similar to ‘ooa’” ([u˘å]), e.g. in cure, endure, lure, mature, poor, pure, sure, tour. For Mathisen (1999: 110), potential Black Country variants include [ju˘´ ~ jç˘ ~ ´u˘´ ~ U´ ~ ç˘], although Painter (1963: 30–31) has BC /u_´/, realised as [u+´], with sporadic [´£w´]. happY The BCDP data suggest that this is typically tense and with diphthongisation, i.e. [Ii > i˘]. Wells (1982: 362) notes [i˘] in the peripheral North (including Birmingham), and Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 55) also note WM [i˘]. However, Painter (1963: 30–31) has BC /´I/, realised as [´£I], with sporadic unstressed [I ~ e_I]; similarly, Chinn and Thorne (2001: 21) maintain that Bm speakers’ realisation here is typically “close to ‘ay’” ([´i ~ Ii]), e.g. in pretty, family, money, gulley. lettER The BCDP data suggest that this is typically [´], with a marked tendency towards lowering to [å]; /r/ usually reappears in linking positions. Chinn and Thorne (2001: 20–21) maintain that Bm speakers’ realisation here is typically “a”-like ([å]), e.g. in mother, computer, water, Christopher, mitre, doctor, razor, sugar, pillar, picture, mixture, sulphur, colour, amateur. Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 55) have WM [´], but for Mathisen (1999: 110) this vowel is often /E/. Painter (1963: 30–31) has BC /´/, realised as [´4 ~ ´£] (following close/halfclose vowel versus open/half-open vowel respectively). horsES Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 55) have WM [´z]. commA The BCDP data indicate that this is typically [´], with a marked tendency towards lowering to [å]. Painter (1963: 30–31) has BC /´/, realised as [´4 ~ ´£] (following close/half-close vowel versus open/half-open vowel respectively), while Chinn and Thorne (2001: 20–24) maintain that Bm speakers’ realisation here is typically “a”-like ([å]), e.g. in China, dogma.

3.

Consonants

Regarding the Black Country, Painter (1963: 31–2) maintains that: (1)

consonants are slightly labialised before stressed THOUGHT, NORTH, FORCE, LOT and GOAT;

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(2)

consonants are slightly palatalised before stressed FLEECE or GOOSE;

(3)

voiced initial and final consonants are usually fully voiced;

(4)

final voiceless stops are ejective;

(5)

final voiced stops are fully exploded and fully voiced;

(6)

in the case of the -ing suffix, BC phrase-final [-In] contrasts with Bm [-INg];

(7)

intervocalic /r/ = [R];

(8)

“linking” /r/ is common;

(9)

[®] is rare;

(10)

BC often evidences the “T-to-R” rule (with /t/ realised as [R] especially in intervocalic environments).

Biddulph (1986: 2, 17–18) claims WM accents have so-called doubled or emphatic consonants (apparently geminate obstruents in medial position) – although so far no instances of such a phenomenon have been noted in the research literature or fieldwork data – as well as some aspiration on final plosives for Bm speakers (see D below). He claims the emphatic consonants are more prevalent in Birmingham than in the Black Country. N There is written evidence for the potential realisation of /n/ as [d] in chimney. NG As noted above, the NG variable provides one major distinguishing factor as regards the WM dialect. As Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 63) explain, most varieties do not, in informal speech, have [N] in , but rather [n]. However, in a West-Central area of England (including Birmingham, Coventry, Stoke, Manchester, Liverpool and Sheffield, as well as rural counties including Staffordshire and parts of Warwickshire) there is a form [Ng] for cases showing in the spelling. Thus, as Wells (1982: 365–366) notes, while most accents of English have a threeterm system of nasals, the West Midlands and parts of the (southern) North-West have a two-term system whereby [N] is merely an allophone of /n/. Wells calls this phenomenon velar nasal plus. Most accents (including RP) have [N] in words like song, hang, wrong; but some Northern accents are non-NG-coalescing and so disallow final [N] (at least after stressed vowels). Chinn and Thorne (2001: 22) go so far as to suggest that while [Ng] frequently occurs in the speech of younger Birmingham speakers, this pattern may actually be

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a recent development, as it is “not altogether true” of older speakers. Wells notes that [Ng] occurs well up the social scale; Heath (1980) found it in all social classes in Cannock, while in the BC [N] has been reported as occurring in unstressed wordfinal syllables (thus [»mo˘niN] vs. [sINg]). Indeed, although NG is stereotypically realised as [Ng] in the WM dialect, analysis of the BCDP data makes it clear that there is variation (particularly among younger speakers) between [Ng] and [n] and [N]. Similarly, for Sandwell, Mathisen (1999: 111) notes word-final [Ng ~ N] and [Ng] before a word-initial suffix, but comments that it is subject to considerable stylistic variation, with [Ng] favoured by teenage women and for monitored speech. The potential alternation between [n] and [Ng] in BC is noted also by Biddulph (1986: 12). PLOSIVES BCDP data reveal that there may be marked aspiration in syllable-final position for all the plosives. B, D, G There is (particularly) written evidence for fortition (following /h/ loss) of the onset of OE e#a to [j], [dj] and especially [dZ] in BC head, dead; Bm/BC dead; BC death. Chinn and Thorne (2001: 106) claim that such forms are today found mainly in BC, but were formerly also widely found in Bm. There is written evidence for excrescent [d] following /n/ in Bm apron (from ME naperon), gown (from ME goune), saucepan (from ME sauce + OE panne), drowned (from (Northern)ME drun(e), droun(e)). But note the legitimate presence of [d] in lawn (from ME laund(e) ‘glade’, ultimately from Celtic), ribbon (ribbon = variant of riband from ME riband). There is written evidence for [D] rather than /d/ in Bm/BC bladder (compare OE blæ#dre but Old Norse bláðra) and BC ladder. A change of /d/ to /D/ before /r/ is attested for local ME dialects by Kristensson (1987: 213). There is written evidence for affrication before a high front segment in Bm tedious (probably [»t√IdZIs]). There is some written evidence for final devoicing in Bm found, hold. According to Brook (1972: 69), one of the defining characteristics of the Middle English WM dialect was word-final devoicing of /b d g/ following liquids or nasals, as well as of /d/ in final position in unstressed syllables (e.g. hadet ‘beheaded’). P Mathisen (1999: 110) notes that glottalling for P is quite frequent, but less so than for T. There is apparent /p/-voicing in Bm/BC pebble.

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T Mathisen (1999: 110) identifies [t] as the standard realisation, with T-glottalling frequent for younger speakers but infrequent for the elderly. Tap [R] is considered mainly a male variant. The BCDP data do indicate that many speakers have such a T-to-R rule (tapping of /t/ in intervocalic position), while T-glottalling occurs especially among younger speakers. As Wells (1982: 261) notes, T-glottalling is widespread in most of the British Isles. Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 62) certify that this is indeed prevalent among younger urban working-class speakers in the UK. It is therefore not surprising to find this feature in the West Midlands. There is written evidence for word-final Tglottalling (or deletion) in Bm what, don’t, , isn’ t half, aqueduct. However, Chinn and Thorne (2001: 23) maintain that there are “relatively few glottal stops [replacing /t/] in Birmingham speech”, whether occurring medially (e.g. daughter, cutlery, butter) or finally (e.g. feet, that). There is considerable written evidence for the T-to-R rule (noted also by Biddulph 1986: 12), e.g. in Bm get a/get on/getting/get out/get away, got a/in/all, it in/up, matter, bit of, put on; BC get off, but he, but at, get hundred. There is also written evidence for anticipatory realisation of /t/ as [k] between /I/ and syllabic /l/, as in Bm/BC little or Bm hospital. Note apparent hypercorrection in BC pickle, tickle. Furthermore, there is audio and written evidence for yod-coalescence to /tS/ before high front segments, e.g. in Bm actually. K Mathisen (1999: 110) notes that glottalling of K is quite frequent, but less so than for T. There is written evidence for [tS] rather than /k/ in Bm reeky ‘smoky’ (from OE reìc,*riec). F There is written evidence for medial and final deletion of /f/ (paralleled for V, see below) in Bm ; BC after. There is written evidence for [g] rather than /f/ in ‘dwarf; small, diminutive’ (note also variation in OE dweorg vs dweorh ‘dwarf’). H As Wells points out (1982: 371; see also Hughes and Trudgill 1996: 85; Chinn and Thorne 2001: 22), /h/-dropping is prevalent in the vernacular accents of the Midlands and Middle North in initial or medial position. /h/ is especially likely to

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be canonically deleted in word-initial position (as shown by numerous audio and written examples, and noted also by Biddulph 1986: 3). The BCDP data suggest that /h/-dropping is near-canonical in the WM dialect, although Mathisen (1999: 110) in Sandwell found it to be typical of teenage and working-class speech. There is also written evidence for epenthetic (hypercorrect) /h/ in Bm apron, and for realisation as [w] initially in BC home (also , ). GH There is SED and written evidence for cases of ME /x/→ WM [f] in contexts where RP might have different realisations, e.g. Bm dough (from OE da#g), slough ‘midden pool’ (from OE slo⎯h, slo#g), WM sough ‘drain’ (compare other dialects; RP rough, tough, enough, slough (v.) etc). V There is written evidence for deletion of /v/ in medial and final position, possibly in low-stressed or unstressed syllables. This is paralleled for F, see above. Examples include Bm/BC give; Bm given; WM never, never a one (compare other dialect or archaic forms like nary (a one), ne’er), BC of, give me, have to. TH For Sandwell, Mathisen (1999: 111) notes [T ~ D] for adult speakers, but [f ~ v] for a growing number of teenagers, especially males. There is written evidence for /T/-deletion in BC with, with her, without; for /D/-stopping in BC further (an archaism, cf. burthen ~ burden; see D), and for rhoticisation of /D/ (to a tap, [R]) in Bm/BC Smethwick. A sporadic local change of OE /rD/ to ME /rd/ is noted by Kristensson (1987: 213). Z There is written evidence for /z/-deletion (as well as possibly /t/-deletion) in isn’t in Bm isn’t half. W There is written evidence for /w/-deletion in unstressed initial and medial position in Bm will, would, (big) ones, backwards, forwards (compare data from the OED: colloquial can’t get any forrader; maritime usage forr’ard), arse-upwards ‘topsy-turvy’, causeway (as in other dialects, e.g. North-Eastern place-name Causey Arch); also BC would, wouldn’t, wouldst (thou).

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There is also written and anecdotal evidence of cases of failure to round historical /a/ following /w/ (relating to instances of CLOTH and THOUGHT; see above); sometimes this appears to be accompanied by fronting. Thus, Chitham (1972: 171–172) claims that in BC wasp rhymes with clasp (presumably as [wasp]); for wash, Mathisen (1999: 108) has Sandwell [wQS], for which note also BC ([wES]). There is also Bm/BC / water, where presumably raising of historical /a˘/ to something like [e´ ~ e˘] occurred (see also FACE, NURSE, START, PALM, where the same convention may be used). In the cases of fronting, OE (Mercian) second fronting may have been involved (note the derivations of wash and water in OE wæscan and wæter respectively). WH Wells (1982: 371) notes that historical /hw/ has become /w/ in all English urban accents; certainly the BCDP data reveal no /w/ ~ /hw/ distinction. However, there is written evidence for /hw/-simplification to [w] rather than [h] in BC whole (possibly represents [wU…]). R WM accents, like those of the South-East, are non-rhotic (Wells 1982: 360), but have both linking and intrusive /r/. While the SED material does show that locations near and within the Black Country (Himley and other areas nearby) were at least partially rhotic until comparatively recently, the current isogloss separating the rhotic South-West from the non-rhotic Midlands (and indeed most of the country) runs some way to the South of the West Midlands conurbation. Chinn and Thorne (2001: 23) maintain that tapped realisations of /r/ are frequent in Birmingham speech, occurring especially in disyllabic words such as marry, very, sorry, perhaps, all right, but also in monosyllables such as bright, great, cream. They note that tap production varies considerably between speakers and sociolinguistic contexts. Mathisen (1999: 110) explains that Sandwell usually has [®], but there are some instances of prevocalic [R]. Linking-R is categorical and intrusive R very frequent. Y The West Midlands has some degree of yod-dropping, as the BCDP data reveal (e.g. new [nUu]). Mathisen (1999: 111) also found some instances of yod-dropping in Sandwell, especially with teenagers and especially with new. Yod-dropping is also evidenced in Bm duke, dukes ‘fists’, BC new, possibly tunes; also in BC years. Note also written evidence for (hypercorrect?) yod-insertion in BC uncouth.

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L According to BCDP, L typically appears to be dark. Mathisen (1999: 111) notes that L is frequently dark in all positions for males, but usually clear for females, with some L-vocalisation among younger speakers. Note Mathisen’s (1999: 108) datum for Sandwell: [fAUd] fold. There is written evidence for medial preconsonantal L-vocalisation or loss in Bm malkin ‘scarecrow’ (from pet-name for Matilda); Bm/BC fold ‘backyard’, old; BC told, cold, sold, any, ba(u)lk.

4.

Morphophonological processes

The Black Country is noted for its highly contracted negative modal forms, evidenced where possible using Painter’s (1963: 32–33) transcriptions, as well as respelling conventions, as follows: [QI] [bQI]

[de_´sn`t] [wçU] [So˘] [ko˘] [mo˘]



?



ain’t ‘am not/isn’t/aren’t, hasn’t/haven’t’ bain’t ‘am not/isn’t/aren’t’ isn’t wasn’t/weren’t doesn’t/don’t don’t didn’t won’t shan’t can’t mustn’t

Note also Mathisen (1999: 108) [kç˘] can’t, [k碮 Qvit] can’t have it. Written evidence from Chinn and Thorne (2001: 74, 121) suggests that similar phonological processes may operate in Birmingham (at least in traditional working-class dialect), e.g. / didn’t. Chinn and Thorne (2001: 121) cite a form mustn’t. This could perhaps be a contraction of mustn’t, or derived from earlier (ME) maun ‘must’ + -n’t (Bm ). There is evidence for the retention of the reflex of the OE form axian ‘to ask’ (rather than OE ascian) in ask.

5.

Current issues

The English West Midlands dialect is an under-researched area in all its linguistic aspects, which is surprising given its continued widespread use in both speech

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and writing. Mathisen (1999) found that in Sandwell the exogenous factor T-glottalling was spreading, but the local identity marker [Ng] was robust and not significantly eroded. Changes seem to be largely brought about by females within the speech community. Research in progress includes work on language change in the Black Country, attitudes to the Black Country and Birmimgham accents, and the relationship between language and identity. * Project leader, Black Country Dialect Project, University of Wolverhampton. Phonological analysis undertaken with the assistance of Peter Finn, research assistant, BCDP.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Biddulph, Joseph 1986 A Short Grammar of Black Country. Pontypridd: Languages Information Centre. Bonaparte, Prince Louis Lucien 1875–1876 On the dialects of Monmouthshire, Herefordshire, Worcestershire, Gloucestershire, Berkshire, Oxfordshire, South Warwickshire, South Northamptonshire, Buckinghamshire, Hertfordshire, Middlesex and Surrey, with a new classification of the English dialects. Transactions of the Philological Society: 570–581. Brook, George L. 1972 English Dialects. London: Deutsch. Chinn, Carl and Steve Thorne (eds.) 2001 Proper Brummie: A Dictionary of Birmingham Words and Phrases. Studley, Warks.: Brewin Books. Chitham, Edward 1972 The Black Country. London: Longman. Fletcher, Kate 1975 The Old Testament in the Dialect of the Black Country, Part I: Genesis to Deuteronomy. Tipton: Black Country Society. Gibson, P. H. 1955 Studies in the linguistic geography of Staffordshire. M.A. thesis, Department of Linguistics, University of Leeds. Glauser, Beat 1997 Review of Heide Gugerell-Scharsach. The West Midlands as a dialect area: A phonological, lexical and morphological investigation based on the Survey of English Dialects. Anglia 115: 92–97.

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Gugerell-Scharsach, Heide 1992 The West Midlands as a Dialect Area: A Phonological, Lexical and Morphological Investigation Based on the Survey of English Dialects. München: Awi. Heath, Christopher D. 1980 Pronunciation of English in Cannock, Staffordshire: A Socio-Linguistic Survey of an Urban Speech-Community. Oxford: Blackwell. Kristensson, Gillis 1987 A Survey of Middle English Dialects 1290–1350: The West Midlands Counties. Lund: Lund University Press. Lass, Roger 1987 The Shape of English: Structure and History. London: Dent. Mathisen, Anne Grethe 1999 Sandwell, West Midlands: Ambiguous perspectives on gender patterns and models of change. In: Foulkes and Docherty (eds.), 107–123. Moore, Samuel, Sanford B. Meech and Harold Whitehall 1935 Middle English Dialect Characteristics and Boundaries. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Orton, Harold and Michael Barry 1998 Survey of English Dialects (B) Basic Material, Volume 2: The West Midlands Counties, Parts 1–2. 2nd edition. Leeds: Arnold. Painter, Collin 1963 Black Country speech. Maître Phonétique 120: 30–33. Parsons, Harold (ed.) 1977 Black Country Stories. Dudley: Black Country Society. Solomon, Philip 2000 Philip Solomon’s On-line Dictionary of Black Country Words. http://www. philipsolomon.co.uk/page20.html. Thorne, Steve 1999 Accent and prejudice: a sociolinguistic survey of evaluative reactions to the Birmingham accent. M.A. thesis, Department of English, University of Birmingham. Todd, Loreto and Stanley Ellis 1992a The Midlands. In: McArthur (ed.), 660. 1992b Birmingham. In: McArthur (ed.), 130–131. Upton, Clive 1995 Mixing and fudging in Midland and Southern dialects of England: The cup and foot vowels. In: Jack Windsor Lewis (ed.), Studies in General and English Phonetics, 385–394. London: Routledge.

The dialect of East Anglia: phonology Peter Trudgill

1.

Introduction

1.1.

East Anglia

As a modern topographical and cultural term, East Anglia refers to an area with no official status. Like similar terms such as “The Midlands” or “The Midwest”, the term is widely understood but stands for an area which has no clear boundaries. Most people would agree that the English counties of Norfolk and Suffolk are prototypically East Anglian, although even here the status of the Fenland areas of western Norfolk and northwestern Suffolk is ambiguous: the Fens were for the most part uninhabited until the 17th century, and the cultural orientations of this area are therefore less clear. The main issue, however, has to do with the extent to which the neighbouring counties, notably Cambridgeshire and Essex, are East Anglian or not. Historically, the Anglo-Saxon kingdom of East Anglia was bordered in the south by the river Stour, and in the west by the Ouse, the Lark and the Kennett, thus leaving the Newmarket and Haverhill areas of Suffolk, from a modern perspective, on the ‘wrong’ side of the border. The Kingdom later expanded further west, however, up to the River Cam; Anglo-Saxon East Anglia at its greatest extent therefore consisted of the habitable parts of Norfolk and Suffolk plus eastern Cambridgeshire. East Anglian English has probably always been a distinctive area. Fisiak (2001) discusses its distinctive character in Old English and Middle English times. It has also played an important role in the history of the language. If it is accepted that the English language came into being when West Germanic groups first started to settle in Britain, then East Anglia – just across the North Sea from the coastline of the original West Germanic-speaking area – has a serious claim to be the first place in the world where English was ever spoken. Subsequently, East Anglian English played an important role in the formation of Standard English. East Anglia was one of the most densely populated areas of England for many centuries, and until the Industrial Revolution Norwich was one of the three largest provincial cities in the country. Together with the proximity of East Anglia to London and large-scale migration from the area to London, this meant that a number of features that came to be part of Standard English had their origins in East Anglia. East Anglia also played an important role in the development of colonial Englishes, notably the American English of New Eng-

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land. The New England short o clearly has its origins in East Anglian pronunciations such as home /hUm/; and yod-dropping (see below) and ‘conjunction do’ (see Trudgill, other volume) were also transmitted to the USA from this area. East Anglian English also formed part of the input for the formation of the Englishes of Australia and New Zealand (see Trudgill 1986; Trudgill et al. 2000). More recently, however, East Anglia, particularly the northern area, has become much more isolated, and its English has retained a number of conservative features. As a distinctive linguistic area, East Anglia is clearly smaller today than it was two hundred years ago: it has shrunk over the past many decades under the influence of English from the London area. In the 19th century, it would probably have been reasonable to consider parts of Bedfordshire and Hertfordshire as linguistically East Anglian; now it would no longer be so (see Trudgill 1999a). On the other hand, there are still parts of Essex which are linguistically very similar to Norfolk and Suffolk. Modern linguistic East Anglia consists of a core area together with surrounding transition zones. The core area, as defined by Trudgill (2001), consists of the counties of Norfolk and Suffolk, except for the Fenland areas of western Norfolk and northwestern Suffolk, plus northeastern Essex. The transition zones consist of the Norfolk and Suffolk Fens, together with eastern Cambridgeshire, central Essex, and a small area of northeastern Hertfordshire (see Map 1). This definition of linguistic East Anglia is based on traditional dialect features (see Wells 1982) as presented in the Survey of English Dialects (SED). As far as Modern Dialects are concerned (see Trudgill 1999b), the transition zones of northeastern Hertfordshire, central Essex and southern Cambridgeshire can no longer be considered East Anglian. Within the core region, urban areas such as Norwich, the largest urban centre in the region, and Ipswich are still solidly East Anglian. Colchester, however, shows much southeastern influence; and the East Anglian character of King’s Lynn and Thetford has been somewhat weakened by considerable in-migration from London and elsewhere. 1.2.

Phonology

Within the core area of East Anglia, the biggest regional differentiation phonologically is between the north and the south. As indicated in Map 1, the northern area includes Norfolk, with the exception of some of the Fens, as well as the northeastern part of Suffolk as far south, approximately, as Southwold. The southern area includes the rest of Suffolk, and those areas of northeastern Essex which are still East Anglian-speaking. King’s Lynn, Norwich, Yarmouth and Lowestoft are thus in the northern area, Ipswich and Colchester in the southern.

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Map 1. East Anglia

2. 2.1.

Vowels Short vowels

The system of short, checked vowels in modern East Anglia is the normal south-ofEngland six vowel system involving the lexical sets of: KIT, DRESS, TRAP, FOOT, STRUT, LOT. KIT

The phonetic realisation of this vowel in the modern dialect is the same as in RP. Older speakers, however, have a closer realisation nearer to, but not as close as [i]. One of the most interesting features of the older East Anglian dialect short vowel system was that, unlike most other varieties, /I/ did not occur at all in unstressed syllables. Unstressed /´/ continues to be the norm to this day in words such as wanted, horses, David, naked, hundred. More striking, however, is the fact that

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/´/ was the only vowel which could occur in any unstressed syllable. This was true not only in the case of word-final syllables in words such as water, butter, which of course also have /´/ in RP, and in words such as window, barrow, which are pronounced /wInd´, bær´/ in very many other forms of English, but also in items such as very, money, city which were /vEr´, m√n´, sIt´/. In the modern dialect, dedialectalisation has taken place in that words from the very set are now pronounced with final /I/ by older speakers and /i/ by younger speakers, as is now usual throughout southern England. The KIT vowel occurred not only in items such as pit, bid in the older dialect but also in a number of other words, such as get, yet, head, again. There is little predictability as to which items have or had the raised vowel, but in all the words concerned the vowel was followed by /n/, /t/ or /d/. DRESS

The vowel /E/ in the older dialect was a rather close vowel approaching [e]. During the course of this century, it has gradually opened until it is now much closer to [E]. In Norwich, it is now also very retracted before /l/ and in the most modern accents has merged with /√/ in this context, i.e. hell and hull are identical (Trudgill 1988). In older forms of the dialect, /E/ occurred not only in the expected bet, help, bed, etc., but also in a number of items which elsewhere have /æ/, such as catch, have/has/had. In the traditional dialect of northern Norfolk, /E/ has become /æ/ before /v/ and /D/: never /næv´/, together /t´gæD´/. In the older dialect, shed is /S√d/. TRAP

The vowel /æ/ appears to have undergone a certain amount of phonetic change. For older speakers for whom /E/ was [e], /æ/ was closer to [E], while in the modern dialect it is a good deal more open. In the urban dialect of Norwich it has now also undergone a further change involving diphthongisation in some phonological environments: back [bæEk] (see further Trudgill 1974). FOOT

The FOOT vowel /U/ was rather more frequent in the older East Anglian dialect than in General English (Wells 1982). Middle English /ç˘/ and /ou/ remain distinct in the northern dialects e.g. road /ru:d/, rowed /r√ud/ (see further below). However, there has been a strong tendency in East Anglia for the /u˘/ descended from Middle English /ç˘/ to be shortened to /U/ in closed syllables. Thus road can rhyme with good, and we find pronunciations such as in toad, home, stone, coat /tUd, hUm, stUn, kUt/. This shortening does not normally occur before /l/, so coal is /ku˘l/. The shortening process has clearly been a productive one. Norwich, for example, until the 1960s had a theatre known as The Hippodrome /hIp´drUm/, and trade names

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such as Kodachrome can be heard with pronunciations such as /kUd´krUm/. The feature thus survives quite well in modern speech, but a number of words appear to have been changed permanently to the /u:/ set as a result of lexical transfer (see below). Trudgill (1974) showed that 29 different lexemes from this set occurred with /U/. The vowel /U/ also occurs in roof, proof, hoof and their plurals, e.g. /rUfs/. It also occurs in middle-class sociolects in room, broom; working-class sociolects tend to have the GOOSE vowel in these items. In the older dialect, a number of FOOT words derived from Middle English /o˘/ plus shortening followed the same route as blood and flood and had /√/: soot, roof /s√t, r√f/. STRUT

There have been clear phonetic developments over the past century in the phonetic realisation of this vowel. It has moved forward from an earlier fully back [√] to a more recent low-central [å], as in much of the south of England. The movement has not been nearly so extensive, however, as the actual fronting which has taken place in London (see Wells 1982: 305). This movement (see Trudgill 1986) started in the south of East Anglia and has gradually spread north, so that the vowel is backer in Norwich than in Ipswich, and backer in Ipswich than in Colchester. The Kings Lynn area has a distinctive closer quality to this vowel around [´]. LOT

In the southern area, rounded [] is usual. In the older accents of the northern area unrounded [A] is the norm, but this is gradually being replaced by the rounded vowel in the speech of younger people. The lexical set associated with this vowel was formerly rather smaller in that, as in most of southern England, the lengthened vowel /ç˘/ was found before the front voiceless fricatives, as in off, cloth, lost. This feature survives to a certain extent, but mostly in working-class speech, and particularly in the word off. The word dog is also typically /dç˘g/. On the other hand, traditional dialect speakers also have LOT in un- and under rather than STRUT. Nothing also has LOT: /nATn/. NURSE

Older forms of the dialect have an additional vowel in this sub-system. If we examine representations of words from the NURSE set in twentieth-century dialect literature, we find the following (for details of the dialect literature involved, see Trudgill 1996):

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Item

Dialect Spelling

her heard nerves herself service earn early concern sir fur daren’t first worse church purpose turnip further hurl turkey turn hurting nightshirt shirts girl

har hard narves harself sarvice arn arly consarn sar far dussent fust, fasst wuss chuch, chatch pappus tannip futher hull takkey tann hatten niteshat shats gal

On the subject of words such as these in East Anglian dialects, Forby (1830: 92) wrote: To the syllable ur (and consequently to ir and or, which have often the same sound) we give a pronunciation certainly our own. Ex. Third word burn curse Bird curd dirt worse It is one which can be neither intelligibly described, nor represented by other letters. It must be heard. Of all legitimate English sounds, it seems to come nearest to open a [the vowel of balm], or rather to the rapid utterance of the a in the word arrow, supposing it to be caught before it light on the r... Bahd has been used to convey our sound of bird. Certainly this gets rid of the danger of r; but the h must as certainly be understood to lengthen the sound of a; which is quite inconsistent with our snap-short utterance of the syllable. In short it must be heard.

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My own observations of speakers this century suggest that earlier forms of East Anglian English had a checked vowel system consisting of seven vowels. The additional vocalic item, which I represent as /å/, was a vowel somewhat more open than half-open, and slightly front of central, which occurred in the lexical set of church, first. Dialect literature, as we have seen, generally spells words from the lexical set of first, church as either as or . The reason for this vacillation between and was that the vowel was in fact phonetically intermediate between /√/ and /æ/. This additional vowel occurred in items descended from Middle English ur, or and ir in closed syllables. Words ending in open syllables, such as sir and fur, had /a˘/, as did items descended from ME er, such as earth and her (as well as items descended from ar such as part, cart, of course). The vowel /Œ˘/ did not exist in the dialect until relatively recently. During the last fifty years, the /å/ vowel has more or less disappeared. In my 1968 study of Norwich (Trudgill 1974), /å/ was recorded a number of times, but the overwhelming majority of words from the relevant lexical set had the originally alien vowel /Œ˘/. Only in lower working class speech was /å/ at all common in 1968, and then only 25 percent of potential occurrences had the short vowel even in informal speech. The vowel did not occur at all in my 1983 corpus (Trudgill 1988). The older checked stressed vowel system of East Anglian English was thus: /I/ kit, get /e/ dress, catch /E/ trap

/U/ foot, home, roof /√/ strut /A ~ / top, under /å/ church

The newer short vowel system looks as follows: /I/ kit /E/ dress, get /æ/ trap, catch 2.2.

/U/ foot, home, roof /å/ strut, under /a ~ / top, off

Upgliding diphthongs

Characteristic of all of the upgliding diphthongs, of which there is one more than in most accents of English (see below), is the phonetic characteristic that, unlike in other south-of-England varieties, the second element is most usually a fully close vowel, e.g. the FACE vowel is typically [æi] rather than [æI]. FLEECE

The /i:/ vowel is an upgliding diphthong of the type [Ii], noticeably different from London [´I]. The modern accent demonstrates happy-tensing, and this vowel therefore also occurs in the modern dialects in the lexical set of money, city, etc.

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Unstressed they has /i˘/ Are they coming? /a˘Di:k√m´n/ (see also Trudgill, other volume). In the traditional dialect, mice was /mi˘s/, and deaf could be /di˘f/. FACE

In the traditional dialects of East Anglia, the Long Mid Mergers have not taken place (Wells 1982: 192–194). The vowel /æi/ in these lects occurs only in items descended from ME /ai/, while items descended from ME /a˘/ have /e˘/ = [e˘ ~ E˘]. Thus pairs such as days-daze, maid-made are not homophonous. (The /e˘/ vowel also occurred in the older dialect in a number of words descended from ME /E˘/ such as beans, creature [k®E˘/´].) This distinction, which now survives only in the northern area, is currently being lost through a process of transfer of lexical items from /e˘/ to /æi/ (Trudgill and Foxcroft 1978). The most local modern pronunciation of /æi/ is [æi], but qualities intermediate between this and RP [eI] occur in middle-class speech (see Trudgill 1974). PRICE

There is considerable variation in the articulation of the /ai/ vowel, as described in detail for Norwich in Trudgill (1974, 1988). The most typical realisation is [åi], but younger speakers are increasingly favouring a variant approaching [Ai] (see further below). CHOICE

It is still possible to hear from older speakers certain words from this set, notably boil, with the PRICE vowel, although this is now very recessive. The vowel /oi/ itself ranges from the most local variant [Ui] to a less local variant [çi], with a whole range of phonetically intermediate variants. GOOSE

The vowel /¨˘/ is a central diphthong [¨4¨] with more lip-rounding on the second element than on the first. Since northern East Anglia demonstrates total yod-dropping (see below), there is in this part of the area complete homophony between pairs of words which have this vowel, such as dew = do, Hugh = who, cute = coot. In northern East Anglia, many words in this set may also occur with the vowel /u˘/ (see below). GOAT

As we saw above, the Long Mid Mergers have not taken place in East Anglia. There are therefore two vowels at this point in the East Anglian vowel system. Paralleling the vestigial distinction in the front vowel system between the sets of made and maid, corresponding to the distinction between the ME monophthong and diphthong, there is a similar distinction in the back vowel system which, however, is by no means vestigial in the northern part of the area. The distinction is between /u˘/ = [Uu], de-

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scended from ME /ç˘/, and /√u/ = [åu], descended from ME /ou/. Thus pairs such as moan ≠ mown, road ≠ rowed, nose ≠ knows, sole ≠ soul are not homophonous. ME /ç˘/ plus /l/ also gives /√u/, as in hold. Words such as bowl and shoulder have /au/ in the older dialect, however. One further complication is that, in modern speech, adverbial no has /u˘/ while the negative particle no has /√u/: No, that’s no good /n√u, Dæs nu˘ gUd/. There are two additional complications. One is that, as we have already seen, words descended from the ME monophthong may also have /U/, i.e. road can be either/rUd/ or /ru˘d/. Secondly, as was mentioned briefly above, many words from the set of GOOSE which are descended from ME /o˘/ may have /u˘/ rather than /¨˘/. That is, words such as boot may be pronounced either /b¨˘t/ or /bu˘t/. In the latter case, they are of course then homophonous with words such as boat. Therefore rood may be homophonous either with rude or with road which, however, will not be homophonous with rowed. It is probable that this alternation in the GOOSE set is the result of lexical transfer, perhaps under the influence of earlier forms of RP, from /¨˘/ to /u˘/. Forms in /u˘/ are more typical of middle-class than of working-class speech; and phonological environment can also have some effect: /¨˘/ before /l/ as in school has much lower social status than it does before other consonants. Words which in my own lower-middle class Norwich speech have /¨˘/ rather than /u˘/ include: who, whose, do, soon, to, too, two, hoot, loot, root, toot, soup, chose, lose, loose, through, shoe. I have no explanation at all for why, for example, soon and moon do not rhyme in my speech. There is also considerable individual variation: my mother has /u˘/ in chose and root, for instance, and my late father had /u˘/ in who. Note that this alternation never occurs in the case of those items such as rule, tune, new etc. which have historical sources other than ME/o˘/; these words always have /¨˘/. For very many speakers, then, rule and school do not rhyme. In summary: rowed road rude rood

/√u/ /u˘/ ~ /U/ /¨˘/ /¨˘/ ~ /u˘/

Two modern developments should also be noted. First, the phonetic realisation of /u˘/ in the northern area is currently undergoing a rather noticeable change (see below), with younger speakers favouring a fronter first element [Pu] (see Trudgill 1988; Labov 1994). This is more advanced in Lowestoft, Gorleston and Yarmouth than in Norwich. Secondly, in the southern zone, the moan: mown distinction is now very recessive, so that for most speakers /√u/ is used in both lexical sets and

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/u˘/ has disappeared. As a consequence, GOOSE words can no longer alternate in their pronunciation. MOUTH

The most typical realisation of the /æu/ vowel in the northern area is [æ¨], although there is some variation in the quality of the first element, e.g. qualities such as [´¨] can also be heard. In the south a more typical realisation is [E¨]. 2.3.

Long monophthongs

NEAR/SQUARE

These two lexical sets are not distinct in northern East Anglian English. The most usual realisation of this single vowel, which I symbolise as /E˘/, is [e4 ~ E3˘]. It is possible that some speakers thus pronounce items such as fierce and face identically. In the southern area, NEAR is [I´], SQUARE is [E˘]. THOUGHT/NORTH/FORCE

The /ç˘/ vowel has a realisation which is approximately [ç˘] without, however, very much lip-rounding. It occurs in items such as poor, pore, paw. As is typical of more conservative south-of-England varieties, it also occurs frequently in the lexical set of CLOTH. START/BATH/PALM

In its most local realisation the vowel /a˘/ is a very front vowel approaching [a˘], but in more middle-class speech more central variants occur. Typical London and RP back variants around [A˘] are not found. As we saw above, in the older dialect this vowel also occurs in sir, fur, earth, her. NURSE/CURE

It was pointed out before that the vowel / ˘/ is a relative newcomer into East Anglian English. Its phonetic realisation is perhaps a little closer than in RP [Œ˘]. It occurs in all items from the set of NURSE, but it also occurs in words from the CURE set that are descended from ME /iu/ or /eu/ before r, so that sure rhymes with her (see also below on ‘smoothing’). Note also that, because of yod-dropping (see section 3), the following are homophones in northern East Anglia: pure = purr, cure = cur, fury = furry. 2.4.

Smoothing

We have already noted that earlier ingliding diphthongs have become monophthongs: /I´/ > /E˘/ in near, /E´/ > /E˘/ in square. This is also true of /U´/ > /ç˘/ in

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poor, /ç´/ > /ç˘/ in pore, and (presumably) /¨´/ > /Œ˘/ in pure. This development has also occurred in original triphthongs, giving tower /tA˘/ and fire /fA˘/ in working-class speech – the vowel /A˘/ occurs only as a result of smoothing. In middle class speech, however, in which /a˘/ is more central, /A˘/ does not occur, and tar and tower are homophonous. This historical process involving lowering before /´/ and then loss of /´/ is paralleled by a synchronic phonological process which carries across morpheme and word boundaries, and extends to additional vowels. (In examining the following examples, recall that East Anglia has /´/ in most unstressed syllables where many other accents have /I/.) The full facts can be summarised as follows: Vowel + /
/

Example

Output

/i˘/ /æi/ /ai/ /oi/ /¨˘/ /u˘/ /ou/ /æu/

seeing playing trying annoying do it going know it allow it

/sE˘n/ /plæ˘n/ /tra˘n ~ trA˘n/ /´nç˘n/ /dŒ˘t/ /gç˘n/ /nÅ˘t/ /´la˘t/

Thus, do it is homophonous with dirt and going rhymes with lawn. The vowels /æ˘/, /A˘/, /Å˘/ occur only as a result of smoothing. Interestingly, some speakers in Norwich pronounce towel as /tŒ˘l/. Smoothing is most typical of the northern zone of East Anglia, but is currently spreading southwards (Trudgill 1986).

3.

Consonants

/p, t, k/ Intervocalic and word-final /p, k/ are most usually glottalised. This is most noticeable in intervocalic position where there is simultaneous oral and glottal closure, with the oral closure then being released inaudibly prior to the audible release of the glottal closure, thus paper [pæip/´], baker [bæik/´]. This also occurs in the case of /t/, as in later [læit/´], but more frequently, especially in the speech of younger people, glottaling occurs: [læi/´]. East Anglia (see Trudgill 1974) appears to have been one of the centres from which glottaling has diffused geographically in modern English English. Trudgill (1988) showed for Norwich that [/] is the usual realisation of intervocalic and word-final /t/ in casual speech, and that it is now also increasingly diffusing into more formal styles. There is an interesting constraint on the use of [/] and [t/] in East Anglian English

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in that these allophones cannot occur before [´] if another instance follows. Thus lit it has to be [lIt´/] rather than *[lI/´/]. In /nt/ clusters, the /n/ is frequently deleted if (and only if) the /t/ is realised as glottal stop: twenty [twE/Ii], plenty [plE/Ii], going to [gç:/´]. /d/ Northeastern Norfolk Traditional Dialects had word-final /d/ merged with /t/ in unstressed syllables, e.g. hundred /h√ndr´t/, David /de:v´t/. /kl, gl/ In the older dialect, these clusters could be pronounced /tl, dl/: clock [tlAk/], glove [dl√v]. /Tr, Sr/ The older East Anglian dialect had /tr/ from original /Tr/ and /sr/ from original /Sr/. Thus thread was pronounced /trId/, threshold /trASl/; and shriek /sri˘k/. My own surname appears to be an East Anglian form of Threadgold. /tw/ could also occur for original /Tw/, as in the placename Thwaite /twæit/. /h/ Traditional Dialects in East Anglia did not have h-dropping. Norwich and Ipswich, however, have had h-dropping for many generations. Trudgill (1974) showed that in Norwich in 1968 levels of h-dropping correlated with social class and style, ranging from 0 percent for the Middle Middle Class (the highest social class group) in formal speech to 61 percent for Lower Working Class informants in casual speech. It is interesting that these levels are much lower than in other parts of the country, and that hypercorrect forms do not occur. /v/ The present-tense verb-form have is normally pronounced /hæ ~ hE ~ h´ ~ ´/, i.e. without a final /v/, unless the next word begins with a vowel: Have you done it? /hE j´ d√n ´t/. This has the consequence that, because of smoothing (see above), some forms involving to have and to be are homophonous: we’re coming /wE˘ k√m´n/, we’ve done it /wE˘ d√n ´t/. In many of the local varieties spoken in the southeast of England in the 18th and th 19 centuries, prevocalic /v/ in items like village was replaced by /w/. Most reports focus on word-initial /w/ in items such as village, victuals, vegetables, vermin. It would seem than that [v] occurred only in non-prevocalic position, i.e. in items such as love, with the consequence that [w] and [v] were in complementary distribution and /w/ and /v/ were no longer distinct. Ellis (1889) describes the southeast of 19th century England as the “land of wee” and Wright (1905: 227) says that “initial and medial v has become w in mid-Buckinghamshire, Norfolk, Suffolk,

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Essex, Kent, east Sussex”. Wakelin (1981: 95–96) writes that the SED materials show that: “In parts of southern England, notably East Anglia and the south-east, initial and medial [v] may appear as [w], cf. V.7.19 vinegar, IV.9.4 viper (under adder), V.8.2 victuals (under food). […] The use of [w] for [v] was a well-known Cockney feature up to the last century.” Wakelin (1984: 79) also says that “Old East Anglian and south-eastern dialect is noted for its pronunciation of initial /v/ as /w/ in, e.g., vinegar, viper; a very old feature, which was preserved in Cockney up to the last century”. The SED materials show spontaneous responses to VIII.3.2 with very with initial /w/ in Grimston, North Elmham, Ludham, Reedham, and Pulham St Mary, Norfolk. Norfolk is one of the areas in which this merger lasted longest. The merger is ‘remembered’ by the local community decades after its actual disappearance: most local people in the area over a certain age ‘know’ that village used to be pronounced willage and that very used to be pronounced werra, but discussions with older Norfolk people suggest that it was in widespread normal unselfconscious use only until the 1920s. We can assume that it died out in the southern part of the East Anglian area even earlier. The fact that modern dialect writers still use the feature is therefore highly noteworthy. For example, Michael Brindred in his local dialect column in the Norwich-based Eastern Daily Press of August 26th, 1998 writes anniversary . /l/ /l/ was traditionally clear in all positions in northern rural East Anglian dialects, and this can still be heard from speakers born before 1920, but modern speech now has the same distribution of clear and dark allophones as RP. Vocalisation of /l/ does not occur in the north but is increasingly common in the south of the region. /r/ East Anglian English is non-rhotic, although the SED did record a few rhotic tokens on the Essex peninsulas. Intrusive /r/ is the norm in East Anglia. It occurs invariably where the vowels /E˘, a˘, ç˘, ´/ occur before another vowel both across word and morpheme boundaries: drawing /drç˘r´n/, draw it /drç˘r´t/. Because of the high level of reduction of unstressed vowels to /´/ (see above), intrusive /r/ occurs in positions where it would be unusual in other accents: e.g. Give it to Anne /gIv ´t t´r æn/. Linking /r/ is essentially the same phenomenon and occurs additionally after /Œ˘/. /j/ The northern zone (as well as adjacent areas of Cambridgeshire, Lincolnshire and even parts of Leicestershire and Bedfordshire, see Trudgill 1999a) demonstrates total yod-dropping (Wells 1982). That is, earlier /j/ has gone missing before /¨˘/ not only after /r/, as in rule, as in all accents of English; and not only after /l, s, n,

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t, d, T/, as in lute, sue, news, tune, duke, enthuse, as in many accents of English; but after all consonants. Pronunciations without /j/ are usual in items such as music, pew, beauty, few, view, cue, hew. The word ewe now begins with /j/, although this was formerly not the case, and education is now /EdZ´kæiSn/ although it was formerly /Ed´ke˘Sn/. The southern part of East Anglia does not have yod-dropping but typically has /I¨˘/ rather than /j¨˘/ in such words.

4.

Rhythm and intonation

East Anglian English has a distinctive rhythm. This is due to the fact that stressed syllables tend to be longer than in RP, and unstressed syllables correspondingly shorter. The reduction of unstressed vowels to schwa appears to be part of this same pattern. Indeed, unstressed syllables consisting of schwa may disappear altogether in non-utterance final position, e.g. forty two [fç˘/t¨˘]; what are you on holiday? [wA/ jA˘n hA˘ld´]; half past eight [ha˘˘p´s æI/]; have you got any coats? [hæj´ gA/n´ kU/s]; shall I? [Sæl´]. Intonation in yes-no questions is also distinctive. Such questions begin on a low level tone followed by high-level tone on the stressed syllable and subsequent syllables: [wA/ jA˘n hA˘ld´] __ __ __ __ What are you on holiday? Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Fisiak, Jacek 2001 Old East Anglian: a problem in Old English dialectology. In: Fisiak and Trudgill (eds.), 18–38. Fisiak, Jacek and Peter Trudgill (eds.) 2001 East Anglian English. Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer. Forby, Robert 1830 The Vocabulary of East Anglia. London: J.B. Nichols and Son. Trudgill, Peter 1988 Norwich revisited: recent changes in an English urban dialect. English WorldWide 9: 33–49.

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Trudgill, Peter 1996 Two hundred years of dedialectalisation: the East Anglian short vowel system. In: Mats Thelander (ed.), Samspel och variation, 469–478. Uppsala: Uppsala Universitet. 1999a Norwich: endogenous and exogenous linguistic change. In: Foulkes and Docherty (eds.), 124–140. 1999b The Dialects of England. Second edition. Oxford: Blackwell. 2001 Modern East Anglia as a dialect area. In: Fisiak and Trudgill (eds.), 1–12. Trudgill, Peter and Tina Foxcroft 1978 On the sociolinguistics of vocalic mergers: Transfer and approximation in East Anglia. In: Trudgill (ed.), 69–79. Trudgill, Peter, Elizabeth Gordon, Gillian Lewis and Margaret MacLagan 2000 The role of drift in the formation of native-speaker southern hemisphere Englishes: Some New Zealand evidence. Diachronica: International Journal for Historical Linguistics 17: 111–138. Wakelin, Martyn F. 1984 Rural dialects in England. In: Trudgill (ed.), 70–93.

The dialects in the South of England: phonology Ulrike Altendorf and Dominic Watt

1.

Introduction

From a dialectological point of view, the South of England falls into three main dialect areas: the Southeast, centred on the Home Counties area; the Southwest of England, which covers the area known as the “West Country”; and East Anglia, which comprises Norfolk and Suffolk, together with adjacent parts of Essex and Cambridgeshire. This article will focus on two of these three areas: the Southeast and the Southwest.

2.

North and South

According to Trudgill in his The Dialects of England (1999), the major dialect boundary in England today is the line separating the North from the South. This line also has an acknowledged folk-linguistic status since it is used “informally to divide ‘southerners’ from ‘northerners’” (Trudgill 1999: 80; see also Wales 2002). In linguistic terms, it consists of two major isoglosses marking the northern limit of two historical developments which are referred to by Wells (1982) as the FOOTSTRUT split and as BATH broadening. The FOOT-STRUT split is a sound change by which the Middle English short vowel u underwent a split resulting in phonemic contrast between [U] and [√] in words such as put and putt. The term BATH broadening refers to a historical process by which /a/ preceding a voiceless fricative, a nasal + /s, t/, or syllable-final /r/, was lengthened (e.g. from [baT] to [ba˘T]) in the late 17th century, and then later retracted to [A˘] (giving [bA˘T]) sometime in the 19th century. These changes mark the vowel systems of the South but are absent from the North. Local accents in the South therefore tend to have separate phonemes for the vowels in FOOT and STRUT and a long (in popular terminology “broad”) vowel /A˘/ in BATH (although the situation is more complicated in the Southwest; see section 5.5.). Their northern counterparts have the same vowel – /U/ – in both FOOT and STRUT, and a short front (“flat”) /a/ vowel in BATH. According to the Survey of English Dialects (SED) (see e.g. Chambers and Trudgill 1998, Fig. 8-I; here: Map 1), the FOOT-STRUT isogloss runs from the Severn estuary in the West to the Wash in the East. The BATH isogloss follows a similar path, but at its western

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end starts somewhat further south, crossing the FOOT-STRUT line in Herefordshire, then

continuing to run north of it up to the Wash.

Map 1:

3.

England, showing the southern limit of [U] in some (solid line) and the short vowel [a] in chaff (broken line)

Southeast and Southwest

The major subdivision of southern accents into Southeastern and Southwestern accents is based on the pronunciation of post-vocalic /r/ in syllable-final pre-pausal and pre-consonantal position, as in far or farmer. In these positions /r/ is preserved in local accents of the Southwest, whereas it is absent or rapidly disappearing from

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accents in the Southeast. In the Southeast, rhoticity used to be a characteristic of rural accents in Kent, Sussex and Surrey where it has been recessive for quite a while (see Trudgill 1999: 27, Map 5 and 1999: 55, Map 12; here: Map 2 and Map 3). According to Wells (1982: 341), “traces of variable rhoticity may be found” in Reading, formerly in Berkshire. As Trudgill (1999: 54) puts it, “[e]very year the r-pronouncing area gets smaller”.

Map 2. Arm; r = [r] pronounced in arm etc.; (r) = some [rs] pronounced

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Map 3. Areas where [r] is pronounced in arm

4.

The Southeast

4.1.

The Home Counties Modern Dialect area

The Southeast of England is here loosely equated with the Home Counties, these being the counties adjacent to London: Kent, Surrey, East and West Sussex, Essex, Hertfordshire, Hampshire, Buckinghamshire, Berkshire, and Bedfordshire. In the past, however, the accents of the Home Counties used to belong to very differ-

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ent dialect areas. Trudgill (1999: 44–47) labels these traditional dialect areas the Southeast (Berkshire, north-eastern Hampshire, Sussex, Kent, Surrey), the Central East (parts of Northamptonshire, Cambridgeshire, non-metropolitan Hertfordshire and Essex) and the Eastern Counties (Norfolk, Suffolk, north-eastern Essex) plus London, which was considered a “separate branch of the Eastern dialects” (Trudgill 1999: 46). Note that the Eastern Counties are also referred to as East Anglia (see Wells 1982: 335), an area treated separately in this handbook. The accents of these areas have been undergoing extensive dialect levelling in recent decades (see e.g. Kerswill 2002). As a result, a considerable part of these different dialect areas are now joined together to form one large modern dialect area, called by Trudgill the “Home Counties Modern Dialect area” (see Trudgill 1999: 65, Map 18; here: Map 4). [...] the non-traditional dialect area of London has now expanded enormously to swallow up the old Southeast area, part of East Anglia, most of the eastern Southwest, and most of the Central East, of which now only the South Midlands remain. The new London-based area we call the Home Counties Modern Dialect area. (Trudgill 1999: 80)

The exact degree of linguistic uniformity within this area is still unclear. Research on urban accents in the Southeast (see e.g. Williams and Kerswill 1999; Altendorf 2003) indeed points to an increase in homogeneity, in particular with regard to middle-class accents. However, local and regional accent differences also persist (see also section 4.2.). 4.2.

Dialect levelling in the Southeast

The restructuring of the Southeastern dialect area is in large part due to processes of linguistic convergence (e.g. Williams and Kerswill 1999; Kerswill 2002). These processes have, it is argued, been promoted by an increase in geographical mobility in the second half of the 20th century. Mobility and migration have taken place in three different directions: (1) Trend I: Centrifugal migration: Londoners have been moving out of the capital since the Second World War, during which time London was the most heavily bombed city in Britain. The Blitz forced millions of families out of their London homes into the country. After the war, and for less dramatic reasons, around one million overspill Londoners were re-housed in municipal re-housing schemes designed to decentralize the metropolitan population. For this purpose, a number of new towns, among them Milton Keynes, Stevenage, Hemel Hempstead, Bracknell and Basildon, were founded within an eighty-kilometre radius of London. In more recent years, young families and old-age pensioners have also often moved out of the city. Young families have been moving into the London

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suburbs or the neighbouring Home Counties to bring up their children in a safer and more pleasant environment. Old-age pensioners have been moving away to realize, where feasible, the English dream of buying a house by the seaside or a cottage in the country, or for less idealistic motives such as unaffordable London rents and living costs, spiralling crime and alienation. Lately, the increased necessity and willingness to commute has further enhanced the interchange between London and elsewhere.

Map 4. Modern Dialect areas

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(2) Trend II: Centripetal migration (Moving to the Southeast and the “NorthSouth divide”): Since the economic revival of the Thatcher era, employment growth in Southeastern England has outstripped that in the rest of the United Kingdom. The media regularly report on the “North-South divide”, a term used to imply stronger economic growth and higher living standards in the South of England than in the North. This economic prosperity has attracted many (work) migrants, mostly to Southeastern areas outside London. The population in these areas has therefore grown at a faster rate than in the rest of the country. Today, about one third of the population of the United Kingdom lives in Southeast England. (3) Trend III: Internal migration within the Southeast: As people resident in the Southeast now tend to change their place of work more often than they used to, there has been a resultant increase in the levels of admixture of the population within the region. These processes of mobility have increased face-to-face interaction among speakers of different accents. This kind of communicative situation tends to bring about short-term accommodation among the interlocutors, which in turn can then lead to long-term accommodation, accent convergence and change, providing that attitudinal factors are favourable. In addition, mobility has been shown to weaken network ties and to promote the diffusion of “new” variants. In the Southeast, these processes have been dominated by the “London element”. Faced with a choice between a London variant and one associated with a rural or provincial accent, most young speakers have tended to opt for the former. This is likely to be particularly true for those young professionals who have been moving to the Southeast from other parts of Britain. To employ a term coined in the 1980s, a metropolitan accent is higher on “street cred” than a provincial one. This does not mean, however, that local accent features have been completely lost. The dialect survey by Williams and Kerswill (1999), for instance, has shown that there are still qualitative and quantitative differences between the accents of adolescents in the two Southeastern towns of Milton Keynes and Reading. 4.3.

London as “innovator”

An important aspect in the linguistic development and folk-linguistic perception of the Southeast is the presence of the capital London within this area. London has a long tradition as a source of linguistic innovation for accents of the surrounding area as well as for RP itself. In recent years, a number of London working-class variants have not only been spreading to areas outside London but also to higher social classes, including the RP-speaking upper and upper middle classes. Wells

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describes this trend in a series of articles, in one of which he states that “some of the changes … can reasonably be attributed to influence from Cockney – often overtly despised, but covertly imitated” (Wells 1994: 205). This development is currently exciting a high degree of public attention. Another phenomenon connected with the Southeast of England which is attracting much public attention is the occurrence of variants associated with London English in urban accents as distant from Southeast England as Hull (in east Yorkshire) and Glasgow (in central Scotland). These variants are, in particular, T-glottalling, TH-fronting and labio-dental [V] (for a more detailed discussion of these variants, see section 4.6.). The British media have had a tendency to attribute, in a very simplistic way, the presence of these features in the speech of younger speakers of these accents to the direct influence of metropolitan London English. This, some media observers believe, is linked closely to the popularity throughout the United Kingdom of the London-based television soap opera EastEnders, which has for nearly two decades been one of Britain’s most popular television programmes. A product of this alleged connection is the label Jockney – a blend of Jock (a nickname for a Scotsman) and Cockney – which has been used by some journalists to describe a new form of Glaswegian dialect borrowing from the television series EastEnders. However, in view of (a) the substantial body of evidence which points to the crucial role of face-to-face interaction in the transmission of changes in pronunciation, and (b) the continuing absence of any compelling evidence of the adoption of innovative forms as a direct consequence of television viewing, it is problematic to attribute the occurrence of these variants in accents outside Southeast England to the dissemination of London English in public broadcasting. Furthermore, it does not seem very likely that attitudes toward London English among speakers in cities like Hull and Glasgow are generally favourable (for more detailed discussion, see Foulkes and Docherty 1999: 11; Williams and Kerswill 1999: 161–162). In any case, many of the so-called London variants have long existed in the accents of areas surrounding cities such as Glasgow and Norwich, and appear more likely to have originated from accents of the immediate vicinity than to have spread from London (see e.g. Trudgill [1999]) on the antiquity of Tglottalling in geographically dispersed regions of the British Isles). 4.4.

“Estuary English”

The changes described above are often referred to as being characteristic of Estuary English, a term coined by David Rosewarne in 1984. He defines it as follows: ‘Estuary English’ is a variety of modified regional speech. It is a mixture of non-regional and local Southeastern English pronunciation and intonation. If one imagines a continuum with RP and London speech at either end, ‘Estuary English’ speakers are to be found grouped in the middle ground (Rosewarne 1984: 29).

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Since the appearance of Rosewarne’s article, Estuary English has been discussed among laypeople and linguists with increasing frequency and unreduced controversy, although linguists have tended to adopt the term as shorthand rather more sceptically than have the general public (see e.g. Przedlacka 2002; Altendorf 2003). Journalists and literary authors make frequent use of the term to label a number of different and divergent trends. For example: (1) socio-phonetic changes within the accents of Southeastern England in the direction of a supra-local regional accent (see also section 4.1.). (2) the social spread of London working-class variants into higher social classes, including the advanced version of RP (see also section 4.3.). (3) the situation-related use of London working-class variants by speakers who are otherwise speakers of RP. (4) the retention of Southeastern regional accent features by speakers who would otherwise have been expected to become speakers of adoptive RP. (5) the occurrence of variants which are (rightly or wrongly) associated with the Southeastern England in accents in which they were not used before (see also section 4.3.). The existence of these developments, with the exception of (5), is not disputed by linguists; what they dispute is the practice (a) of subsuming all these developments under the same name, (b) of choosing a new name to describe them, and (c) of choosing the particular name ‘Estuary English’. With regard to the choice of name, Trudgill (1999) remarks: This [Estuary English] is an inappropriate term which [...] has become widely accepted. It is inappropriate because it suggests that we are talking about a new variety, which we are not; and because it suggests that this is a variety of English confined to the banks of the Thames Estuary, which it is not. (Trudgill (1999: 80)

With regard to choosing a new name, Wells (1997) remarks: Estuary English is a new name. But it is not a new phenomenon. It is the continuation of a trend that has been going on for five hundred years or more – the tendency for features of popular London speech to spread out geographically (to other parts of the country) and socially (to higher social classes). (Wells 1997: 47)

Here, Wells touches on one of the central aspects of the Estuary English controversy. To the layperson, the situation has changed in such a way (and/or is brought to his/her attention in such a way) that it is perceived as a new phenomenon requiring a new name. For the linguist, on the other hand, the current linguistic situation is just another phase within a longer historical process which does not merit a distinct designation, at least no more so than any other phase in the development of any particular accent.

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4.5.

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Southeastern phonology: vowels and diphthongs

Table 1 shows the inventory of London vowels and diphthongs on the basis of Wells (1982: 304). For the purposes of comparison, Table 2 gives an overview of the variants used by adolescent speakers from the Southeast of England, including London, in the late 1990s. The forms for Milton Keynes and Reading are taken from Williams and Kerswill (1999: 143), those for London from Tollfree (1999: 165) and, in individual cases, from Altendorf (2003). Altendorf’s study covers fewer variables and will only be cited when results do not tally with those reported by Tollfree.

Table 1.

London vowels – summary

KIT

I

FLEECE

Ii

NEAR

i´

DRESS

e

FACE

√I

SQUARE

e´

TRAP

Q

PALM

A˘

START

A˘

LOT

Å

THOUGHT

o˘, ç´

NORTH

o˘, ç´

STRUT

√

GOAT

√U

FORCE

o˘, ç´

FOOT

U

GOAL

ÅU

CURE

u´

BATH

A˘

GOOSE

¨˘

happY

Ii

CLOTH

Å

PRICE

AI

lettER

´

NURSE

Œ˘

CHOICE

çI

commA

´

MOUTH

QU

happY Accents in the South of England have undergone happY tensing, a term coined by Wells (1982: 257–258) to describe a historical process by which the short final [I] in happY has been replaced by a closer vowel of the [i(˘)] type. There is still uncertainty about the exact phonetic quality of [i(˘)] but the general consensus is that it patterns with FLEECE rather than KIT. In addition, London and Southeastern accents have diphthongal happY variants. With regard to these variants, the general socio-phonetic principle is: the more central the starting-point, the more basilectal the variant. The most basilectal variant is [´i] with a fully central starting-point. Suburban working-class speakers and middle-class speakers use a variant with a less central starting point, which we have chosen to transcribe as [´i].

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Table 2. The vowels of London, Milton Keynes and Reading – summary STANDARD LEXICAL SET

London (middle class)

Milton Keynes (middle class and working class)

Reading (middle class and working class)

KIT

I ~ I_

I > I¢ ~ i¢

I > I¢ ~ e¢

DRESS

E ~ E4

E3 > e4

E3 > e4

TRAP

Q

a ~ a3

a ~ a=

LOT

Å ~ Å_

Å3

Å3 ~ A

STRUT

å ~ √À

√ > √À ~ å

√ > √À ~ å ~ ´˘4

FOOT

U ~ U7_ (Tollfree) P (Altendorf)

P > UÀ ~ O= ~ Y

P > UÀ ~ O= ~ Y

BATH

A˘ ~ AÀ˘ ~ A¶˘

A˘ > AÀ˘ ~ a=˘

AÀ˘ > a=˘

CLOTH

Å ~ Å_

Å3

Å3 ~ A

NURSE

Œ˘ ~ ´˘

´4˘

´4˘

FLEECE

i˘~ I_(˘) (Tollfree) i˘ ~ Ii > ´i > ´i (Altendorf)

I

i > ´i

i˘ ~ Ii > ´i

FACE

eI ~ e4I ~ e4_I

Ei > QI ~ åI ~ e4I

Ei > Qi ~ e4I

PALM

A˘ ~ AÀ ~ A¶

A˘ > AÀ˘ ~ a=˘

AÀ˘ > a=˘

THOUGHT

ç˘ ~ oÀ˘

o4˘ > oU=

o4˘ > oU=

´Y ~ åY ~ ´I ~ åI

´Y ~ ´I ~ ´ÀY ~ ´UÀ

GOAT

w

√U( ) ~ FU ~ F´ ~ ´£U (Tollfree) ´U ~ å¨ > åU (Altendorf) w

GOAL

ÅU( ) ~ ÅF ~ a=U

√U > ç£U

√U > ç£U

GOOSE

uÀ(w) ˘ ~ ¨˘ ~ ¨4˘ (Tollfree) ¨˘ ~ Y˘ > ˆ˘ ~ I˘ (Altendorf)

¨˘ ~ ¨À˘ ~ Y˘ ~ y˘ > ´¨À˘

¨˘ ~ ¨À˘ ~ Y˘ ~ y˘ > ´¨À˘

PRICE

aI ~ a=I ~ a_I

AI > AÀI ~ A˘ ~ çI ~ √ÀI

AI ~ çI ~ √ÀI > A˘

CHOICE

çI ~ oI

ç£I ~ çI

ç£I ~ çI

MOUTH

aU ~ aF (Tollfree) aU ~ QU (Altendorf)

aU > a˘ ~ E˘ ~ QU

aU > a˘ ~ EI ~ EUÀ

NEAR

´

I˘ ~ I

e4˘ ~ e´

e4˘ ~ e´

SQUARE

E£˘(´) ~ e¢˘(´)

E˘ ~ E££´

E˘ ~ E££´

START

A˘ > AÀ˘ ~ A¶

A˘ > AÀ˘ ~ a≠˘

AÀ˘ > a≠˘

NORTH

ç˘ ~ oÀ˘

o4˘ > oU=

o4˘ > oU=

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The dialects in the South of England: phonology Table 2. (continued) The vowels of London, Milton Keynes and Reading – summary STANDARD LEXICAL SET

London (middle class)

Milton Keynes (middle class and working class)

Reading (middle class and working class)

FORCE

ç˘ ~ oÀ˘

o4˘ > oU=

o4 > oU=

CURE

j¨7´ ~ jU7´ ~ jç£˘

jo4˘

jo4˘

happY

i(˘) (Tollfree) i(˘) > ´i (Altendorf)

i¢

i¢

lettER

´ ~ ´£

Å˘ ~ ´4

å ~ ´4

horsES

I ~ I_

I

I

commA

´ ~ ´£

ÅÀ˘ ~ ´4

å ~ ´4

FLEECE, FACE, PRICE, CHOICE, GOOSE, GOAT, MOUTH

If described with reference to traditional RP, London and Southeastern long vowels and diphthongs are involved in a diphthong shift which Labov (1994: 170) describes as “the closest replication of the Great Vowel Shift that can take place under the present conditions”. In addition, there is social variation within the Southeastern system with working-class variants being even more advanced than their middle-class counterparts (see Table 3). Note that Wells (1982: 302–303) defines Popular London (PL) as the accent of suburban working-class speakers and Cockney as the accent of the inner-London working class. Table 3. RP: PL:

London Diphthong Shift (adapted from Wells 1982: 308, 310) i˘

eI

aI

çI

Ê

Ê

Ê

Ê

I77i

√I

Ê Cockney:

AI

Ê ´i

QU

Ê ÅI

´U

Â

ç8I

Ê aI

AU

oI

u˘

 √U

Â

Â

Q˘

a-U

 U¨

 ´¨ ∼ ¨˘

FLEECE

The London and Southeastern FLEECE variant is a diphthong. The general sociophonetic principle is again: the more central the starting-point, the more basilectal the variant. The most basilectal variant is [´i] with a full central starting-point. Suburban working-class speakers and middle-class speakers use a variant with a less central starting-point, which we transcribe as [´i].

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GOOSE

London and Southeastern English have monophthongal and diphthongal GOOSE variants. The occurrence of the monophthongal variants is favoured by preceding /j/ and disfavoured by following dark […]. In the 1980s, the most common Mainstream RP variant was reported to be a “slight glide” (Gimson 1984: 192) of the [Uu] type or a more central monophthong of the [y] kind. If the first element of the diphthong was further centralized or the monophthong further fronted, Gimson did not regard the resulting variants as representative of RP but as characteristic of Southeastern English. This principle still applies in the case of the diphthongal GOOSE variants. The general socio-phonetic principle is the same as for happY and FLEECE: the more centralized the first element of the diphthong, the more basilectal the variant. The most basilectal variant is [´u] with a full central starting-point. Suburban working-class and middle-class speakers tend to use a diphthong with a less central starting-point, which we transcribe as [´u]. In the case of the monophthongal GOOSE variants, a new set of variants has emerged. These variants represent the continuation of an already existing trend. The process of fronting has been taken a step further, producing variants ranging between the central variant [¨˘] described above, and a mid-front variant [Y˘], which is, incidentally, also a characteristic of rural Southwestern accents (see section 5.5.). Variation between these two variants is continuous rather than discrete. The same development can be noted in the case of the central unrounded variant [ˆ˘]. Here fronting can also be more advanced, leading to alternation between [ˆ˘] and [I˘]. These variants were found by Altendorf (2003) in London, Colchester and Canterbury and by Williams and Kerswill (1999) in Milton Keynes and Reading. Williams and Kerswill (1999: 144–145) can trace a change in apparent time. For both towns, they report that elderly speakers still have [¨˘], whereas younger speakers have [Y˘], or even more front [y˘] in palatal environments. GOAT-GOAL split and GOAT

London English and other Southeastern accents are subject to a phoneme split whereby oppositions such as goal [gÅU…] and goat [g√Ut] have developed (see Wells 1982: 312–313). Interaction of this alternation with L vocalization has led to the emergence of further contrasts between pairs like sole-soul [sÅU] and so-sew [s√U] (see section 4.6.). In London and Southeastern varieties the GOAT vowel is diphthongal. The basic socio-phonetic principle is: the more front and open the starting-point, the more basilectal the variant. The most basilectal form is a variant approaching [aU] with a full front and open starting-point. Suburban working-class and middle-class speakers use a variant with a less open starting-point in the area of [Q_ ~ å]. Recently, an additional new set of variants has emerged. The first element is similar to the old mesolectal London GOAT variant [åU], but the endpoint is different. This

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element has been considerably advanced and has variable lip rounding resulting in alternation between [å¨] and [åÆ]. These new variants were found by Altendorf (2003) in London, Colchester and Canterbury and by Williams and Kerswill (1999) in Milton Keynes and Reading. Williams and Kerswill (1999: 143) report even further fronting of the second element resulting in variants of the [åY ~ åI] type. In addition, they have found an extra set of variants in Reading. The Reading adolescents have variants with a more central onset of the [´Y ~ ´I] type which they use alongside with the Milton Keynes set. MOUTH

In London English, MOUTH has diphthongal and monophthongal variants. For the social stratification of London English the general principle is: the weaker the endpoint, the more basilectal the variant. According to Wells (1982: 309), the MOUTH vowel monophthong is a “touchstone for distinguishing between ‘true Cockney’ and popular London”. Only “true Cockney” working-class speakers have a long monophthong of the [Q˘ ~ a˘] kind or alternatively a diphthong with a weak second element of the [Q´ ~ Q´] type. Suburban working-class speakers and middle-class speakers have a closing diphthong of the [QU] type. According to the Survey of English Dialects (SED), the prevalent variant in most Southeastern accents used to be a variant of the [EU] type. In the speech of younger speakers, this “provincial” variant was neither found by Altendorf (2003) in Colchester and Canterbury nor by Williams and Kerswill (1999) in Milton Keynes. Adolescent speakers in these towns use “metropolitan” [QU] rather than the older “provincial” form [EU]. In Milton Keynes and Reading, they even prefer [aU]. Williams and Kerswill (1999: 152) comment that this is a case in which levelling in the Southeast has led to a compromise on the RP form rather than the intermediate London variant. FOOT

Another recent trend in London and Southeastern accents is FOOT fronting. In the 1980s, Gimson (1984: 119) and Wells (1982: 133) agreed that the FOOT vowel showed little variability. The only variability they conceded consisted in the occasional occurrence of “more centralized and/or unrounded” variants (Wells 1982: 133). Wells (1982: 133) described them as characteristic of “innovative or urban speech” in England, Wales and Ireland. In the meantime, this innovative tendency has led to further fronting of the FOOT vowel resulting in variants of the [ü ~ P] type. Tollfree (1999) has found such variants in London and Altendorf (2003) in London, Colchester and Canterbury. Williams and Kerswill (1999) have found even more front variants of the [O ~ Y] type in Milton Keynes and Reading, these variants being particularly favoured by middle-class speakers. Torgersen (2002) reports on patterns of FOOT fronting in Southeastern English, which reveal effects

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for speaker age and speaking style, as well as effects for phonological context and lexical item. 4.6.

Southeastern phonology: consonants

H London and Southeastern accents have sociolinguistically variable H dropping (see Tollfree 1999: 172–174). The zero form tends to be avoided by middle-class speakers, except in contexts in which H dropping is “licensed” in virtually all British accents (in unstressed pronouns and verbs such as his, her, him, have, had, etc.). TH London and Southeastern accents have sociolinguistically variable TH fronting (i.e. the use of [f] and [v] for /T/ and /D/, respectively). In these accents, TH fronting can apply to /T/ in all positions (e.g. think, something, mouth) and to /D/ in non-initial position (e.g. brother, with). In the case of /D/ in initial position, /d/ (or O, as in [´nQ/] for and that) are more likely alternatives (see e.g. Wells 1982: 328; Hughes and Trudgill 1996: 71). The labio-dental variants have traditionally been socially stigmatized, and therefore tend to be avoided by middle-class speakers. Neither Altendorf (2003) nor Tollfree (1999) found them in the speech of their middle-class informants. However, there are reports that TH fronting is now on the verge of spreading into Southeastern middle-class accents (see e.g. Williams and Kerswill 1999; Kerswill 2002). Williams and Kerswill (1999: 160, Table 8.8) have found instances of TH fronting in male and female middle-class speech in Milton Keynes and male middle-class speech in Reading. In both towns, TH fronting affects sexes and classes in the following order: working-class boys > working-class girls > middle-class boys > middle-class girls. In terms of change in apparent time, this pattern is indicative of a “change from below” in the social sense of the term (see e.g. Trudgill 1974: 95). It has started in male working-class speech and is now working its way “upwards” to female middle-class speakers. At the moment, this development is still at an early stage. Accordingly, labio-dental fricatives in the speech of female middle-class speakers in Milton Keynes (14.3%) and Reading (0%) are infrequent or altogether absent. This could also explain why they do not occur in the London surveys by Altendorf (2003) and Tollfree (1999). P, T, K Pre-glottalization and glottal replacement of syllable-final /t/ and (to a lesser extent) /p/ and /k/ are very common in London and the Southeast. Despite its wide geographical dissemination, T glottalling has a tradition of being regarded as a

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stereotype of London English. Its current spread (at least in the Southeast) is equally ascribed to the “influence of London English, where it is indeed very common” (Wells 1982: 323). In recent years, glottalling – and in particular T glottalling – has increased dramatically in all social classes, styles and phonetic contexts. Social differentiation is, however, retained by differences in frequency and distribution of the glottal variant in different phonetic contexts. The result of this interplay can be seen in Figures 1 and 2, taken from Altendorf (2003). These data show the frequency of T glottaling in two styles of speech produced by schoolchildren drawn from three school types (comprehensive, grammar, and public) and demonstrate marked contextual effects for some speaker groups. Phonetic constraints affect the occurrence and frequency of the glottal variant in the following order: pre-consonantal position (Scotland, quite nice) > pre-vocalic across word boundaries (quite easy) and pre-pausal position (Quite!) > word-internal pre-lateral position (bottle) > word-internal intervocalic position (butter). Their effect is further enhanced by social and stylistic factors: (1) Middle-class speakers differ from working-class speakers by avoiding the glottal variant in socially sensitive positions when speaking in more formal styles. They reduce the frequency of the glottal variant in pre-pausal and prevocalic positions (as in Quite! and quite easy), and avoid it completely in the most stigmatized word-internal intervocalic position (as in butter). (2) Upper-middle-class speakers differ from all other social classes in that they avoid the glottal variant in these socially sensitive positions in both styles. They have a markedly lower frequency of pre-pausal and pre-vocalic T glottaling in the most informal style and avoid it almost completely in the more formal reading style. T glottaling in the most stigmatized positions, in pre-lateral and intervocalic position (as in bottle and butter), does not occur at all for these speakers. The results for the London upper middle class reported by Altendorf (2003) confirm those of Fabricius (2000). In the results for her young RP speakers, there is no intervocalic T glottaling in any style, and no pre-pausal or pre-vocalic T glottaling in the more formal style. Fabricius also shows that the effect of phonetic context and style is highly significant. Examination of the result for environment using the Newman Keuls test for pairwise comparison showed that the consonantal environment was significantly different from the pre-vocalic and the pre-pausal environments (pp], did [dI>d], top [tA>p] (see Hughes and Trudgill 1996: 78). STRUT

There is some uncertainty about the phonetic quality of the STRUT vowel in Southwestern accents (see Wells 1982: 48). Wakelin (1986: 23) cites [´] and [å] for Bristol, [I] in words such as dozen and brother in some accents of Devon and Cornwall, a range of rounded variants including [U] and [Y˘] in certain areas, and even some diphthongal pronunciations such as [aU] and [øY] in dust and sludge. TRAP

In many Southwestern accents the TRAP vowel is realized as [a]. This realization is typical of rural accents in the region, but it also occurs in urban accents. Bristol and Southampton, however, are reported to have [Q] rather than [a] (Wells 1982: 345; Hughes and Trudgill 1996: 57, 77), as are Somerset and West Cornwall. (Wakelin 1986: 21) BATH, PALM

The phonetic qualities of the BATH and PALM vowels depend on their phonetic environments, and vary in different areas and localities. The exact phonetic quality and distribution of the Southwestern variants is not fully understood. Wells (1982: 345–346) and Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 57) suggest the following description: (1) In the standard lexical set of BATH, two vowels are possible: (a) [a>] and (b) [Q˘]. In those accents which have BATH [a>] and (lengthened) TRAP [a>], phonemic contrast is absent or variable. However, neither TRAP [a>] nor the TRAP-BATH merger are categorical. According to Wells (1982: 346), Bristol and Southampton, for instance, retain an opposition between TRAP and BATH as in “gas [gQs] vs. grass [grQ˘s ~ gra˘s]”. (2) The situation becomes yet more complex when we consider the vowel of the lexical set PALM. Wells (1982: 346) suggests the following rule of thumb: If historical /l/ in words such as palm and calm is retained, which is the case in some parts of the Southwest, the vowel is probably a back unrounded [A], such that palm is pronounced as [pA…m]. PALM words without historical /l/, such as father, bra, spa, tomato, banana, etc., have the same vowel as that found in BATH items. FACE and GOAT Traditional rural accents in Devon and Cornwall have the monophthongal FACE and GOAT variants [e˘] and [o˘] (see e.g. Wakelin 1986: 27). Wakelin also reports some instances of centring and opening diphthongs (e.g. [e´], [I´], [j´]) which appear to be rather like those used in north-eastern England. These pronunciations

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and the close-mid monophthongs [e˘] and [o˘] are, however, recessive and appear to be giving way to (closing) diphthongal variants resembling those used in Southeastern England. Such diphthongal variants have fairly open starting points in the vicinity of [E] and [ç]. (see Hughes and Trudgill 1996: 64, 109) PRICE

The quality of the vowel in words of this set is often quite close to that of CHOICE in accents such as RP, although Wells (1982: 347) contends that a PRICE-CHOICE opposition is usually (but not always) maintained by Southwestern speakers. This feature is nonetheless stereotyped to the extent that pseudo-phonetic spellings like roit (right) and Vroiday (Friday) are commonly found in attempts to render West Country accents orthographically (see e.g. McArthur 1992: 674). Wakelin describes the first element of the diphthong as being heavily centralized in the eastern part of the region, but as one proceeds westward [Q_] becomes increasingly common. He also cites monophthongal pronunciations as [Q˘ ~ a˘] for Devon (Wakelin 1986: 27–28). MOUTH

According to Wells (1982: 347–348), typical Southwestern qualities of MOUTH are “perhaps [QU] and [åU]” and [EI ~ eI] in Southwestern areas nearer to London. This vowel and PRICE exhibit what Wells terms “crossover” (1982: 310, 347), whereby the first elements of the diphthongs are the opposite in front-back terms from those found in RP. GOOSE and FOOT Rural accents in Devon and parts of Somerset and Cornwall have GOOSE and FOOT fronting (see section 4.5.). Wells (1982: 347) quotes the Linguistic Atlas of England (LAE) variants [Y˘] for GOOSE and [Y] or [OY] for FOOT. LOT

The LOT vowel is frequently [Å], but also [A], as in varieties of US English. Conservative pronunciations featuring [ç˘] in items like off, cross and broth are cited by Wakelin (1986: 23) on the basis of SED responses. Gradation In some words, vowels in unstressed syllables retain full vowel quality. Goodness, for instance, can be pronounced as ['gUdnEs]. (Hughes and Trudgill 1996: 79) 5.6.

Southwestern phonology: consonants

Rhoticity: Most Southwestern accents preserve post-vocalic /r/, which is frequently retroflex in quality (i.e. [”]). Wells (1982: 342), quoting LAE results, reports that the iso-

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gloss separating retroflex from post-alveolar /r/ runs from Bristol to Portsmouth. The retroflex areas are thus Hampshire, Wiltshire, Dorset, Somerset, Devon and Cornwall. Full rhoticity occurs in a wide range of social and local accents ranging from the working to the middle class and from rural to urban accents. According to Wells (1982: 341), rhoticity can be found in Bristol, Exeter and (to a lesser extent) in Southampton, but not in Plymouth and Bournemouth. The exact workings of rhoticity in the Southwest of England are complex and not yet fully understood. According to Wells (1982: 342), rhoticity in the Southwest means R colouring of the preceding vowel. In words of the lexical sets NURSE and lettER, the entire vowel receives R colouring, but for words of the START, NORTH, FORCE, NEAR, SQUARE and CURE sets, it is either the whole vowel or just the endpoint of the diphthong/triphthong which receives R colouring. As with L vocalization, R colouring affects the phonetic quality of the preceding vowel and has led to the rise of new monophthongs and diphthongs. These processes and the theoretical problems that they pose are discussed in Wells (1982: 342–343). Southwestern middle-class speakers sometimes have a pronunciation where post-vocalic /r/ is not phonetically realized but the effects of rhoticity are still preserved. These speakers have, for instance, a centring diphthong in START words, [stA´t], but not in words such as spa, [spA˘ ~ spa˘] (Wells 1982: 343). Hyper-rhoticity can also occur, especially in commA words, which then end in /r/. It can also be sporadically heard in items such as khaki ['ka˘”ki] for which, presumably, Southwestern speakers have mistakenly reconstructed a post-vocalic /r/ on the basis of productions they have heard produced by speakers of non-rhotic accents such as RP (see Wells 1982: 343). Wakelin (1986: 31) lists path, nought, idea, yellow and window as items recorded with hyper-rhotic pronunciations, and also cites post-vocalic /r/ in words in which metathesis may take place (e.g. ‘purty’ for pretty, ‘gurt’ for great, etc.). H As with the Southeastern accents discussed above, Southwestern accents have sociolinguistically variable H dropping. According to Upton, Sanderson, and Widdowson (1987: 104), H dropping occurs in house in Cornwall, Devon, western Somerset, northern Wiltshire, and southern Dorset, but does not occur in other areas of the Southwest. According to Wakelin (1986: 31), aspiration may occur before /r/ in word-initial clusters (i.e. /hrV/) in southern Somerset, while in West Somerset and North Devon the aforementioned metathesis of a syllable onset /r/ and its following vowel may result in the pronunciation /h´rd/ red. F, TH, S, SH Southwestern accents traditionally featured initial fricative voicing, a process by which the otherwise voiceless fricatives /f, T, s, S/ are voiced to [v, D, z, Z] respectively. This feature, which Wakelin (1986: 29) dubs “the [Southwestern] feature

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par excellence”, has long been a stereotype of rural West Country accents (see section 5.3.); yet it is highly recessive today. TH Southwestern accents, like those of Southeastern England, have sociolinguistically variable TH fronting (for Bristol, see Hughes and Trudgill 1996: 78). Wakelin (1986: 29) reports [f] for /T/ in think, through and mouth for Bristol, as well as stopped pronunciations of /T/ and /D/ as [d] in e.g. three, thistle, the, and then (see also Wells 1982: 343). There is, however, something of a lack of recent published research on this variable in accents of the Southwest. T Southwestern accents have variable T glottaling in syllable-final pre-pausal and intervocalic position (for Bristol, see Hughes and Trudgill 1996: 78). Wells (1982: 344) gives ['dŒ’˘/i 'wç˘/´’] dirty water as an example of the sort of glottalled pronunciation frequently found in Bristol, and cites a study in which it is stated that glottalling of /k/ renders lot and lock homophonous at [lÅ/]. In intervocalic position, a widespread alternative to T glottaling is T voicing (see [d]in butter in section 5.1.). Wells (1982: 344) reports tapping of /r/ to be “certainly very common” in butter, beautiful, hospital in urban areas of the Southwest. voicing of intervocalic /p/ and /k/ is also said to occur. (see Wells 1982: 344) Syllabic consonants Word-final vowel + nasal sequences (as in button) are often pronounced as such, rather than as syllabic consonants. In these circumstances, happen would be ['hap´n] rather than ['hapn1]. (Hughes and Trudgill 1996: 790)

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Altendorf, Ulrike 2003 ‘Estuary English’:Levelling at the interface of RP and Southeastern British English. Tübingen: Narr. Fabricius, Anne 2000 T-glottalling between stigma and prestige. Ph.D. dissertation, Copenhagen Business School.

Gimson, Alfred C. 1984 An Introduction to the Pronunciation of English. London: Arnold.

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Kerswill, Paul 1996 Phonological convergence in dialect contact: evidence from citation forms. Language Variation and Change 7: 195–207. 2002 Models of linguistic change and diffusion: new evidence from dialect levelling in British English. Reading Working Papers in Linguistics 6: 187–216. Klemola, Juhani 1994 Dialect areas in the Southwest of England: an exercise in cluster analysis. In: Wolfgang Viereck (ed.), Verhandlungen des internationalen Dialektologenkongresses, Volume 3: Regional Variation, Colloquial and Standard Languages, 368–384. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag. Przedlacka, Joanna 2002 Estuary English? A Sociophonetic Study of Teenage Speech in the Home Counties. Frankfurt am Main: Lang. Rosewarne, David 1984 Estuary English. Times Educational Supplement, 19th October 1984. Tollfree, Laura 1999 South East London English: discrete versus continuous modelling of consonantal reduction. In: Foulkes and Docherty (eds.), 163–184. Torgersen, Eivind Nessa 2002 Phonological distribution of the FOOT vowel, /U/, in young people’s speech in Southeastern British English. Reading Working Papers in Linguistics 6: 25–38. Wakelin, Martyn F. 1986 The Southwest of England. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Wales, Katie 2002 ‘North of Watford Gap’: a cultural history of northern English (from 1700). In: Watts and Trudgill (eds.), 45–66. Wells, John 1994 The cockneyfication of R.P.? In: Gunnel Melchers and Nils-Lennart Johannesson (eds.), Nonstandard Varieties of Language, 189–205. Stockholm: Almqvist and Wiksell. 1995 Transcribing Estuary English: a discussion document. Speech, Hearing and Language 8: 261–267. 1997 ´What is Estuary English? English Teaching Professional 3: 46–47. . Williams, Ann and Paul Kerswill 1999 Dialect levelling: change and continuity in Milton Keynes, Reading and Hull. In: Foulkes and Docherty (eds.), 141–162.

Channel Island English: phonology* Heinrich Ramisch

1.

Introduction

The Channel Islands (Jersey, Guernsey, Alderney and Sark) are regarded as a French-speaking area in traditional dialectology, as can be seen in J. Gilliéron and E. Edmont’s Atlas Linguistique de la France (1902–1920), and also in the regional dialect atlas for Normandy, Atlas Linguistique et Ethnographique Normand (Brasseur 1980–1997). This is certainly justified, because the original language in the islands is a form of Norman French that has been spoken there for centuries. But there can be no doubt that English is the dominant language in the islands today. The number of speakers of Norman French is relatively small and constantly decreasing. Over the last 200 years, English has gained more and more influence and has gradually replaced the local Norman French dialects. Indeed, there are clear indications that they will become extinct within the foreseeable future. A detailed account of the past and present sociolinguistic situation in the Channel Islands can be found in Ramisch (1989: 5–62) and Jones (2001); for the general history of the Channel Islands see in particular Lemprière (1974), Guillot (1975: 24–55) and Syvret and Stevens (1998). A brief look at Map 1 shows that the Channel Islands are much closer to France than to England. Alderney is just 9 miles away from Cap de la Hague in France, while Jersey is only about 15 miles from the French coast but 90 miles south of England. Therefore, it comes as no real surprise that the native language in the Channel Islands is Norman French rather than English. From a political point of view, however, the islands have been connected with England for a long time. Originally, the islands were part of the Duchy of Normandy, but after the Battle of Hastings in 1066 Duke William II of Normandy (William the Conqueror) became King of England, and the Duchy of Normandy was united with England under one ruler. Thus, 1066 is the date that first associates the Channel Islands with England and the English Crown, and this association has existed ever since. 1066 also provides the background for a longstanding joke. When asking local people whether they think that the Channel Islands belong to England they will tell you that just the opposite is true. They will point out that after all they were on the winning side in the Battle of Hastings and it was they who conquered England. The exceptional political situation of the Channel Islands really arose after the year 1204, when

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King John (Lackland) lost all his territories on the Continent to King Philippe Auguste of France, but the Channel Islands were not conquered by the French. As a result, they became the only part of the former Duchy of Normandy to remain in the possession of the English king, who continued to reign in the islands in his function as Duke of Normandy. Because of their strategic importance the French repeatedly tried to capture the Channel Islands during the following centuries, but never succeeded. The islands stayed loyal to the English Crown which in turn granted them special privileges and a high degree of autonomy; to this day the islands do not belong to the United Kingdom and are not directly subject to the British Government. They have their own legislative assemblies (called States), and their own legal and tax systems, which is in fact the reason why they have become a tax haven and international centres of banking and finance. After the separation of the Channel Islands from the Norman mainland in 1204, their political links with England at first had no far-reaching consequences (see Guillot 1975: 31–32 and Le Patourel 1937: 35). The native inhabitants, their culture and their language were Norman, keeping them in close contact with their neighbours on the Norman mainland. At a time when distances played a far greater role than today, trade with the outside world mainly took place with Normandy. On the whole, it seems that English influence in the Channel Islands during the Middle Ages was rather limited. However, the situation began to change in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, when larger military units from England were brought to the islands to defend them against the French. It was above all the tradespeople and the inhabitants of the capital towns St. Helier (in Jersey) and St. Peter Port (in Guernsey) who first came into contact with English through the soldiers stationed in the area. Furthermore, English merchants had also settled in these towns, which had developed into international trade centres. But during the first half of the 19th century the islands were still largely Frenchspeaking. There is an interesting comment from the 1830s by the English travel writer Henry Inglis. He writes in a guidebook: [...] there are certain points of interest attached to the Channel Islands, peculiarly their own [...] their native civilized inhabitants, their vicinity to the coast of France, and the general use of the French language. (Inglis 1844: 2)

Talking about Jersey, he makes clear what he means by “French language”: “The universal language is still a barbarous dialect.” (Inglis 1844: 72) But Inglis also reports on the beginnings of a process of anglicization: Children are now universally taught English; and amongst the young, there is an evident preference of English. The constant intercourse of the tradespeople with the English residents; and the considerable sprinkling of English residents in Jersey society, have also their effect. (Inglis 1844: 73)

206

Map 1.

Heinrich Ramisch

The Channel Islands

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207

English influence really started to grow after the Napoleonic wars (1815), when a larger number of English immigrants came to live in the Channel Islands. Immigration from Britain continued throughout the 19th century. The census figures of 1891 (Census of the Channel Islands 1891: 4) reveal, for instance, that 5,844 people (or 15.5%) of the inhabitants of Guernsey and 8,626 people (or 15.8%) of the inhabitants of Jersey were immigrants from England, Wales, Scotland or Ireland. At the same time, immigration from France was much lower, namely only 2.92% in Guernsey and 10.22% in Jersey. Other factors that contributed to an increased influence of English are to be seen in the growing trade relations with England, the emergence of tourism, and improvements in communication and traffic links. For example, the introduction of steamboats played an important role. From 1824 onwards a regular service between England and the islands was established, which offered new opportunities for commerce and made it much more convenient for British tourists to visit the islands (cf. Tupper 1876: 403). Towards the end of the 19th century a historian comments: During the present century the English language has made vast strides both in Guernsey and Jersey, so that it is difficult now to find a native even in the country parishes who cannot converse fairly well in that tongue. (Nicolle 1893: 387)

The influence of English continued to rise during the 20th century. The mass media, such as radio and television, brought English into practically every home. Tourism greatly increased and became a major industry. Moreover, immigration from Britain has been very strong. A high proportion of the present population of the Channel Islands are non-natives. The 2001 census figures show that 33.5% of the resident population of Jersey (total: 87,186) were born in the UK and 2.3% in the Republic of Ireland. In Guernsey 27.4% of the population (total: 59,807) originally came from the UK and 0.7% from Ireland. The decline of the Norman French dialects has rapidly progressed over the last 100 years, and it seems certain that they will not survive as a living language. In Alderney, Norman French has already disappeared. The number of dialect speakers on the other islands has constantly decreased. The results of the 2001 census show that only 3.3% (2,874 people) of the population in Jersey still claim to be active speakers of Jersey French (see Table 1). About two-thirds of these speakers are in fact aged 60 and above. In Guernsey 1,327 people (2.2% of the total population) stated that they “speak Guernsey French fluently”. But most of them (934 or 70.4%) are 65 or older. A further 3,438 people (5.7% of the total population) reported that they “speak Guernsey French a little” (Census of Guernsey 2001: 109). As for Sark (total population: 550) local estimates assume that 50 people still speak Sark French. All present speakers of Norman French are bilingual, i.e. they are also speakers of English. They are local people who live mainly in the rural areas, where they typically work as farmers, growers, fishermen or craftsmen. Moreover, the use of

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Table 1.

Languages spoken in Jersey (Census of Jersey 2001: 23)

English Jersey French Portuguese French Other languages

Main language

Secondary language

Total number of speakers

Percentage of population

82,349 113 4,002 338 384

3,443 2,761 3,303 14,776 4,496

85,792 2,874 7,305 15,114 4,880

98.4% 3.3% 8.4% 17.3% 5.6%

the Norman French dialect is limited to family members, friends and neighbours of whom the speaker knows that they are able to understand the language. It is particularly in the case of older couples where both husband and wife are dialect speakers that Norman French is still the daily language at home. Probably the most important reason for the decline of the dialects has been their low social prestige. They have generally been regarded as an uneducated, inferior tongue spoken by ordinary people in the country and, what is more, as a corrupt form of Standard French, which is commonly called “good French” in the Channel Islands. It is revealing that before the arrival of English it was not Norman French but Standard French which was preferred in public and official domains such as in the debates of the local parliaments (States), in the courts, in newspapers or in church. 2.

Phonological features

As far as the phonological variation of English in the Channel Islands is concerned, the following three major aspects should be taken into account. (For a detailed description of phonological features to be found in Channel Island English, see Ramisch 1989: 164–178.) First of all, due to the language contact between English and the local Norman French dialects, one may expect to find features in English which can be attributed to an influence from Norman French. In this context it is of particular interest to verify whether such features only occur with speakers of Norman French or whether they are also used by monolingual speakers of English. Secondly, Channel Island English is likely to include non-standard features that equally occur in other varieties of British English. These features may easily have arrived in the Channel Islands with the large number of immigrants from Britain. Thirdly, Channel Island English may be characterised, at least theoretically, by independent phonological developments with no influence from either Norman French or other varieties of English.

Channel Island English: phonology

2.1.

209

Vowels

Table 2. Vowel realisations in Channel Island English – summary KIT

I~ï

FLEECE

i ~ i

NEAR

 ~ i

DRESS

 ~ 

FACE

e ~ e

SQUARE

 ~ 

TRAP

æ

PALM

 ~  

START

 ~ 

LOT

 ~ _

THOUGHT

ç ~ o

NORTH

ç ~ o

STRUT

ç~

GOAT

ç ~ 

FORCE

ç ~ o

FOOT



GOAL

ç ~ 

CURE

j 

BATH

 ~ !

GOOSE

u ~ "

happY

i ~ i

CLOTH

 ~ _

PRICE

   ~ 

lettER

~œ

NURSE

 ~ 

CHOICE

ç  o

horsES

~ï

MOUTH

a

commA



Table 2 lists the typical vowel realisations in Channel Island English. Two prominent features will be discussed here in more detail, namely the realisations of the PRICE diphthong and the STRUT vowel. PRICE

The starting point of the PRICE diphthong tends to be further back than in RP. Words such as fight or buy are pronounced [ft] and [b]. Additionally, the first element of the glide may be rounded, resulting in [ft] and [b]. The realisation of the PRICE diphthong as [] or [] is certainly not restricted to the Channel Islands, but commonly found in many other accents of English. It is particularly typical of the Cockney accent (London) and of urban areas in the south of England in general (cf. Wells 1982: 149, 308). Certain varieties of Irish English equally have [] or [] for the PRICE glide, which has led to the stereotype view in the United States that speakers of Irish English pronounce nice time as ‘noice toime’ (cf. Wells 1982: 425–426). The question of whether the variable pronunciation of the PRICE diphthong in the Channel Islands may also be due to a influence from Norman French cannot be resolved conclusively. It cannot be a case of phone substitution, since the diphthong [a] does exist in Channel Island French. But it is noteworthy that the diphthong [] is a typical and frequently occurring sound in the local French dialects. Verbs which end in -er in Standard French have the diphthong [] in the same position in Guernsey French, for example: [dun] (Standard French donner ‘give’). Similarly, the ending [] is used in the second person plural of the present

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tense [vu dun] (Standard French vous donnez), in the imperative plural [dun] (Standard French donnez!) and in the past participle forms of verbs [dun] (Standard French donné). Table 3.

Realisation of the PRICE diphthong as [] or [] in Guernsey

informant group

percentages

MO

35.8 21.0 27.1 12.2

FO MY FY

Table 3 presents the results for the PRICE diphthong among 40 informants in Guernsey, divided into 4 different groups: MO = older (60+) male informants and speakers of Guernsey French; FO = older (60+) female informants and speakers of Guernsey French; MY = younger (19–32) male informants and monolingual speakers of English; FY = younger (19–32) female informants and monolingual speakers of English. The feature occurred most frequently with group MO. In slightly more than a third of all cases the glide was realized as [] or []. The feature was quite common with the younger men (group MY) as well. Their percentage value is still above that of group FO. The younger women (group FY) clearly came closest to RP in their pronunciation of the PRICE glide. STRUT

The STRUT vowel may be pronounced as [ç] in Channel Island English. Words such as sun or duck are locally realised as [sçn] and [dçk]. In comparison to the RP vowel [ç] is further back and above all, the vowel is rounded. Parallels to this feature in other varieties are rather difficult to find. In the data of the Survey of English Dialects (SED; Orton 1962–1971), [] is very occasionally used for the STRUT vowel. In the responses to question IV.6.14 (‘ducks’), [] occurs three times in Kent, once in Essex and once in Hampshire. In question IX.2.3 (‘sun’), [] was recorded twice in Kent, once in Wiltshire and once in the Isle of Man. An influence from Norman French seems more likely in this case. Channel Island French does not have a vowel sound comparable to English //. One can therefore assume that a phone substitution takes place in English, replacing // by [ç]. This hypothesis is confirmed by the fact that the same phone substitution occurs in English loanwords in Channel Island French. Thus, the word bus is pronounced [la bçs] in the local French dialects.

Channel Island English: phonology Table 4.

211

Realisation of the STRUT vowel as [ç] in Guernsey

informant group

percentages

MO

19.6 18.0 8.7 10.3

FO MY FY

The results for the STRUT vowel among the same 40 informants in Guernsey equally lend support to the hypothesis. The quantitative analysis of the variable shows a generational difference. The older informants (and speakers of Guernsey French) scored about 10% higher than the younger informants (monolingual speakers of English). 2.2.

Consonants

R (non-prevocalic /r/) Channel Island English is variably rhotic, but only to a lesser degree. Thus, nonprevocalic /r/ may be pronounced in preconsonantal (e.g. farm) or in absolute final positions (e.g. far). The typical local realisation is a retroflex approximant, e.g. [f#m], [f#]. The pronunciation of non-prevocalic /r/ in accents of British English is of a complex nature, involving both regional and social factors. In the traditional rural accents of England, three areas can generally be described as still preserving non-prevocalic /r/: Northumberland, Lancashire and a larger area in the south-west, ranging from Kent to Cornwall in the west and to Shropshire in the West Midlands (see Upton and Widdowson 1996: 30–31). In recent times, the rhotic areas have definitely become smaller. The realization of non-prevocalic /r/ in the Channel Islands can certainly be attributed to an influence from other varieties of English. But on the other hand, an influence from Channel Island French seems equally possible. Speakers of the Norman French dialects are accustomed to pronouncing [r] (normally an apical type of r, pronounced with different degrees of vibration) both in preconsonantal (e.g. [parti], Standard French parti ‘gone’) and in absolute-final position (e.g. [vr] Standard French vert ‘green’). Moreover, it is reasonable to assume that Norman French speakers of earlier periods who learnt English only at school tended to realize non-prevocalic /r/ under the influence of English orthography; in other words, their pronunciation of non-prevocalic /r/ would be based on a spelling pronunciation. A clear indication that the realization of non-prevocalic /r/ is indeed influenced by Norman French becomes apparent in the ending -er in Guernsey English,

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which can be pronounced as [œr] (recall Table 2 above). Thus, the pronunciation of words such as better or youngster is ['betœr] and ['jstœr]. There is evidently an influence from Norman French here, the same ending [œr] also being used in Guernsey French as in [l pçrtœr] (Standard French le porteur ‘carrier’). Another argument for the English ending -er being identified with the ending [œr] of Guernsey French is the fact that the latter is also found in English loanwords used in Guernsey French. In this way, the English words shutter and mourner have become [l çtœr] and [l mçrnœr] in Guernsey French (Tomlinson 1981: 265, 325). The realisation of non-prevocalic /r/ was not very widespread among the 40 informants in Guernsey. The feature was mostly found in group MO at a rate of 9.2%. With the younger informants, it occurred only very occasionally, and solely in group MY. One can conclude, therefore, that the pronunciation of non-prevocalic /r/ is becoming increasingly rare in the Channel Islands as well. H H-dropping or the non-realisation of /h/ in initial position in stressed syllables before vowels (e.g. in happy ['æpi] or hedge [d$]) is one of the best-known non-standard features of British English. It has achieved a high level of public awareness, is clearly stigmatized and commonly regarded as uneducated. For Wells (1982: 254) H-dropping is even “the single most powerful pronunciation shibboleth in England”. Its presence in Channel Island English is hardly surprising. Moreover, there are individual items in which the initial position of /h/ is filled by a semivowel [j], as for example in hear [j(#) or head [jd], parallels of which can be found in English dialects, too (see SED questions VI.4.2 ‘hear’, VI.1.1 ‘head’). It is an intriguing question to ask whether there possibly is an influence from Channel Island French on H-dropping. Nearly all varieties of French, including Standard French, do not realise initial /h/. But the Norman French dialects of the Channel Islands belong to the few varieties of French that have indeed preserved initial Germanic /h/, as e.g. in [ha] (Standard French hache ‘axe’) or [humar] (Standard French homard ‘lobster’). Consequently, initial /h/ is a familiar sound for speakers of Norman French and should not lead to H-dropping in English. However, it has to be pointed out that the realisation of initial /h/ in Channel Island French is by no means categorical. Individual speakers may vary considerably in their use of initial /h/ and it appears likely that this variability has some effect on H-dropping in English. NG As in many other varieties of English, the pronunciation of the ending -ing in words such as working or fishing varies between velar [] and alveolar [n], the latter form being more informal and possessing less social prestige than the former. There are

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no indications that an influence from Channel Island French has ever played a role in the realisation of -ing. The variable is well established and can be regarded as a general non-standard feature that has also found its way into Channel Island English. 2.3.

Suprasegmentals

Channel Island English is characterised by features on the suprasegmental level (stress, intonation) which sound ‘foreign’ and which are either caused by an influence from Norman French or can at least be explained originally in terms of non-natives using English. Such features are most common with older people who are still regular speakers of Norman French. One may come across unusual stress patterns as for example in Guernseyman ['g nzi'mæn], educated [edju'ketd] or grandfather [%rænd'f]. Alternatively, the difference between stressed and unstressed syllables may be less marked, with the use of secondary stresses on normally unstressed syllables as in potatoes ['pç%te%t z], tomatoes ['tç%ma%t z], English ['%gl].

3.

The particle eh

This feature is strictly speaking a syntactic one, but it amply illustrates the interrelationship of different influences on Channel Island English also becoming apparent on the phonological level. Eh is a high-frequency particle in the Channel Islands (cf. Ramisch 1989: 103–113). Its normal phonological realisation is a diphthong [eI], but it can also be pronounced as a short [e(]. Three different modes of usage can be distinguished. (1) eh is used as a request to repeat an utterance that the listener has not heard properly (rising tone on eh): Interviewer: What sort of trouble did you have there? Informant: Eh? (2) eh is employed as a tag that is added to a statement to induce the listener to express his/her opinion on what is said by the speaker (rising tone on eh): You grow your own stuff, eh - eh? (3) eh is used as a phatic element which serves to establish or to maintain the contact between speaker and listener. It can occur repeatedly at relatively short intervals within one speech cycle, without giving the listener a real opportunity to voice his/her opinion. The aim of the speaker is merely to secure the listener’s attention. The length of articulation of eh is often reduced, and the rising intonation which is typical of (1) and (2) is frequently omitted:

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In the old days, you see, when we were children, there was no television eh, we had no electric [sic] anyway eh – yes a gramophone eh, that’s all what we had you see, music eh, there was no wireless eh. Eh has indeed the status of a stereotype in the Channel Islands. People refer to it when they are asked about typical features of their local variety of English. It is certainly true that eh generally occurs in present-day English as an invariant tag question that invites the listener’s response to a preceding statement (see e.g. Quirk et al. 1985: 814). But the question remains why eh occurs with such a high frequency in the Channel Islands. An influence from Norman French immediately suggests itself, because eh is equally common in the local French dialects and is employed in the same way as in English. Moreover, there is a tendency among older speakers to use a short [e(] for eh both in Norman French and in English.

4.

Conclusion

Channel Island English is a variety that is characterised by a unique blend of features originating from different sources. On the one hand, one encounters nonstandard features of British English that have arrived in the Channel Islands as a result of the close connections with Britain and because of the many British immigrants. This influence has existed for a long time and continues to be effective today. One can observe, for example, features such as T-glottalisation (the glottaling of intervocalic and word-final [t]) or TH-fronting (the use of [f] and [v] instead of [] and []), especially in the speech of younger people in St. Helier (Jersey) and St. Peter Port (Guernsey). These features clearly are recent takeovers from British English. Yet on the other hand, Channel Island English comprises features that have their origin in Channel Island French. It is of particular relevance that they occur not only with speakers of Norman French but also with (younger) people who are monolingual speakers of English. Consequently, features of this type are not just transitional phenomena in the process of acquiring English. Some of the features have become an integral part of the local language variety and continue to exist even if the speakers themselves are no longer bilingual. Our discussion of various phonological features has shown that in quite a number of cases the analysis is rather complex because both a Norman French influence and an influence from other varieties of English seem plausible. It can be confirmed that the same holds true for morphological and syntactic features (cf. Ramisch 1989: 91–163). If there is more than one explanation for a particular feature, these explanations should not necessarily be regarded as mutually exclusive; rather, it is reasonable to assume that there is a convergence of different sources of influence, reinforcing and complementing each other.

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* I would like to thank my informants in the Channel Islands for their helpfulness and hospitality. The fieldwork in Guernsey and Jersey has always been a unique personal experience to me. I am particularly grateful to Michèle, Neil and Ross Tucker for their constant support and friendship over the years.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Brasseur, Patrice 1980–1997 Atlas Linguistique et Ethnographique Normand. Paris: Editions du CNRS. Census of the Channel Islands 1891 Census 1891. Islands in the British Seas. Isle of Man, Jersey, Guernsey and Adjacent Islands. London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office. Census of Guernsey 2001 2001 Guernsey Census. Report on the Census of Population and Households. Guernsey: States of Guernsey. Census of Jersey 2001 Report on the 2001 Census. Jersey: States of Jersey. Gilliéron, Jules and Edmond Edmont 1902–1920 Atlas Linguistique de la France. Paris: Honoré Champion. Guillot, Claude 1975 Les Iles Anglo-Normandes. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. Inglis, Henry The Channel Islands. London: Whittaker. 18444 Jones, Mari C. 2001 Jersey Norman French: Study of an Obsolescent Dialect. Oxford: Blackwell. Lemprière, Raoul 1974 History of the Channel Islands. London: Robert Hale. Le Patourel, John 1937 The Medieval Administration of the Channel Islands 1199–1399. London: Oxford University Press. Nicolle, E. Toulmin (ed.) The Channel Islands. London: Allen. 18933 Quirk, Randolph, Sidney Greenbaum, Geoffrey Leech and Jan Svartvik 1985 A Comprehensive Grammar of the English Language. London: Longman. Ramisch, Heinrich 1989 The Variation of English in Guernsey/Channel Islands. Frankfurt am Main: Lang. Syvret, Marguerite and Joan Stevens 1998 Balleine’s History of Jersey. West Sussex: Phillimore.

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Tomlinson, Harry 1981 Le Guernesiais – Etude grammaticale et lexicale du parler Normand de l’Ile de Guernesey. Ph.D. dissertation, Edinburgh. Tupper, Ferdinand B. The History of Guernsey and its Bailiwick. London: Simpkin and Marshall. 18762 Upton, Clive and John D.A. Widdowson 1996 An Atlas of English Dialects. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Received Pronunciation* Clive Upton

1.

Finding a model

Early in the twentieth century Daniel Jones described the model accent presented in An English Pronouncing Dictionary as that most usually heard in everyday speech in the families of Southern English persons whose men-folk have been educated at the great public [in the English sense of the word, i.e. private fee-paying] boarding-schools. This pronunciation is also used by a considerable proportion of those who do not come from the South of England, but who have been educated at these schools. The pronunciation may also be heard, to an extent which is considerable though difficult to specify, from persons of education in the South of England who have not been educated at these schools. It is probably accurate to say that a majority of those members of London society who have had a university education, use either this pronunciation or a pronunciation not differing very greatly from it. (Jones 1917: viii)

Jones’s location of his model accent reflects social considerations of his time, with its reference to “men-folk” (then overwhelmingly the products of the public-school system) and the socially and economically dominant “London society”, and emphasis on the normalizing force of public school education: indeed, so crucial is this element to his divination of his model that Jones initially calls it Public School Pronunciation, or PSP. Although non-Southerners might acquire the accent through privileged schooling, its possession is much more likely amongst educated Southerners. Living in a hierarchical, south-east-focused and male-dominated world, Jones’s stance on a model accent was understandable, and might be expected to have passed unquestioned in his day. Early twentieth-century assumptions are not necessarily ours, however: education is now more democratic in respect of both gender and class, and Southern England no longer holds a grip on linguistic prestige which it had on Britain a century ago. And to be fair to Jones, he himself was not completely locked into a narrow description of the accent. Despite the time-bound socio-cultural assumptions apparent in his description of his model, as the century progressed, although the essential prescription remained “public school” turned to “boarding school”, “London society” became “Londoners”, and by 1926 his label had become “Received Pronunciation” or RP (a term first used, though not as a specific label, by A.J. Ellis [1869: 23]). Further, he shows himself to be prepared to keep the boundaries of the accent and its speaker-base fuzzy, from the first not-

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ing “the delusion under which many lexicographers appear to have laboured, viz. that all educated speakers pronounce alike” (Jones 1917: viii). If Jones could be open-minded about his model and its speakers, it is now time for us to be still more relaxed about the RP we acknowledge. The accent that has for a long time been regarded as a model in dictionaries and language-teaching texts is becoming much more widely based than it once was. There will always be a rearguard that deplores changes in the accent, as it will language change of any kind, and even some linguists out of touch with developments in England might misunderstand, but we should not on their behalf make the model too precious or confine its speaker-base to an elite. Gimson makes the case for the acknowledgement of ongoing developments in the accent when, having outlined tendencies being shown by the accent in 1984, he writes: [I]f a different set of criteria for defining RP […] is adopted, together with a range of acceptable tolerances within the model, which will result in a somewhat diluted form of the traditional standard, the re-defined RP may be expected to fulfil a new and more extensive role in present-day British society. (Gimson 1984: 53)

That new role can most prominently be observed in the use of RP as the scarcely remarked-upon ‘background’ accent of the media newsreader. But despite Gimson’s counsel, a commonly-held view persists that RP is a very narrow class-based and region-based variety of English pronunciation. This is in part the result of a peculiarly British attitude towards accent variety: The British are today particularly sensitive to variations in the pronunciation of their language. […] Such extreme sensitivity is apparently not paralleled in any other country or even in other parts of the English-speaking world. (Cruttenden 1994: 76)

Britons are indeed remarkably judgemental about all accents. That RP, when judged in the abstract, tends to be considered remote from the speech of most Britons suggests that a rarified version of the accent remains the target of people’s perceptions, unsurprising if one considers the transcriptions which are frequently offered up, where the model lags behind Gimson’s expectations. The RP model with which native speakers and learners alike continue to be confronted is ultimately, of course, a matter of sounds: that is, phonetic realization of the phonemes of Received Pronunciation dictates the variety. But creating no little problem for the model is the choice of symbols by which those phonemes are described. The phonemic inventory of RP is often represented by a symbol set that was entirely appropriate when Jones began its description. Such have been the developments in the accent, however, that another transcription might now be thought more appropriate for some phonemes. Yet still the old description persists, a tradition of transcription being retained that fully supports Wells’s description of the accent as “characteristic of the upper class and (to an extent) the upper-middle

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class” (Wells 1982: 10). The result is a situation in which traditionalists feel justified in insisting on the sounds transcribed, as if the symbols were phonetic rather than phonemic representations (while pragmatic users reproduce whatever sounds seem appropriate to them when they see the symbols). Important to this chapter are transcription conventions first deployed in The New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary (1993) and subsequently in all the larger native-speaker dictionaries of Oxford University Press, and, alongside North American transcriptions, in The Oxford Dictionary of Pronunciation for Current English (Upton, Kretzschmar and Konopka 2001). These transcriptions are different in some small but significant particulars from those that might be encountered elsewhere in descriptions of Received Pronunciation, most notably as regards the TRAP, PRICE, and SQUARE vowels. They are descriptive of the reality of the kind of modern, “diluted” Received Pronunciation called for by Gimson twenty years ago.

2.

RP and its lesser forms

There are, of course, various kinds of Received Pronunciation. A well-known classification aimed at making sense of this range is that devised by Wells (1982). There we find an upper-class accent labelled “U-RP”, and a less marked form, taken in 1982 to be the most usual and unexceptionable variety, designated “mainstream RP”. To these are added in close company “adoptive RP”, “Near-RP”, and “quasi-RP”. Simplification is sought in this chapter, with concentration on an accent that will not be the object of comment as regards elevated upbringing or social pretension. Furthermore, it is not to be associated with any one geographical region in England. This accent is simply labelled ‘RP’. One stage removed from this is a variety that Ramsaran (1990: 179) calls “traditional” (here trad-RP). In most respects RP and trad-RP are identical. But they are different in important particulars that, since they are apparent to native British English speakers, should generally be made known to the speaker-learner who wishes to avoid being judged old-fashioned or affected. To trad-RP are consigned a range of sounds that many Britons are still wont to consider what is meant by “RP”, leading them to think of it as “posh” (its almost universal pejorative label). Even further back in time and still more restricted socially than trad-RP is a version that does nevertheless continue to be heard as the accent of a few older speakers and as the affectation of some others. It also exists as a folk-memory in British society generally. Outmoded and, when heard (typically in old movies and newsreel commentaries), attracting amused comment, this is Cruttenden’s “Refined RP” (1994: 80). The literature also abounds with speculation on possible innovations manifesting themselves in the speech of the young. Neither Refined RP nor speculative RP are treated spe-

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cifically here, not because they are not interesting to debate, but because they do not belong in a purely descriptive setting, and for reasons of space.

3.

The vowels of RP

There is an extensive literature in which a good deal of agreement, if not absolute unanimity, can be seen in the discussion of changes in RP. There is also, however, some disagreement about precisely how the accent is to be represented, because some commentators are more inclined to hold the line on the older transcriptional and realizational forms than others. (See for example Ramsaran’s [1990: 180] critique of Bauer.) Given the fact of language change, there comes a time when certain sounds, conventionally labelled in a previous time, alter to such an extent that different symbols represent them more accurately: the phonetic symbols being absolutes, their interpretation cannot be altered to suit the new development, so that if anything is to change in the interests of accuracy and clarity it must be the label that is applied to the sound. This is especially important since transcriptions in dictionaries and English language teaching texts are invariably broadly phonemic, and if their users are to be properly served they need to be provided with transcriptions that correspond as honestly as possible to the sounds of the modern accent. The RP vowel inventory incorporates some judicious relabelling from that which is often to be seen. It contains nineteen stressed vowels, /I, E, a, A, √, U, E˘, i˘, A˘, ç˘, u˘, ´˘, eI, çI, √I, aU, ´U, I´, U´/ and two unstressed vowels, /i/ and /´/. RP and trad-RP share the same phonemic structure but differ in realizational (and hence labelling) particulars, and differ also occasionally in the lexical distribution of phonemes. Table 1 combines the accents in most of the lexical sets. Where there are differences, these are shown in separate columns. It will be evident from Table 1 that RP and trad-RP coincide on KIT, LOT, STRUT, FOOT, FLEECE, FACE, PALM, THOUGHT, GOOSE, CHOICE, MOUTH, NEAR, START, NORTH, FORCE, happY, lettER, and commA. NURSE shows only a slight

difference, in which the RP transcription is indicative of a less restrictive rendering of the typical sound than is the trad-RP transcription. The BATH vowel coincides on [A˘] in both varieties, with the addition of a further [a] variant in RP. CLOTH similarly coincides, though with a short vowel, in both varieties, with a long-vowel alternative in trad-RP. Both accents share [´U] in GOAT, with trad-RP having alternative [oU], and both share [U´] in CURE, with RP having alternative [ç˘]. Most significant developments have taken place, and so distinguish RP from trad-RP, in DRESS, TRAP, PRICE, and SQUARE.

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Table 1. The vowels of RP and trad-RP Vowel

RP

shared RP/trad-RP

trad-RP

I

KIT DRESS

E

e

TRAP

a

Q

LOT

Å

STRUT

√

FOOT

U

BATH

A˘ ~ a

A˘

CLOTH

Å

Å ~ ç˘

NURSE

´˘

Œ˘

FLEECE

I˘

FACE

eI

PALM

A˘

THOUGHT

ç˘

GOAT

´U u˘

GOOSE PRICE

´U ~ oU

√I

aI

CHOICE

çI

MOUTH

aU

NEAR

I´

SQUARE

E˘

E´

START

A˘

NORTH

ç˘ ç˘

FORCE CURE

U´ ~ ç˘

U´

happY lettER

i ´

commA

´

KIT

This is generally realized as half-close and retracted; one might expect a somewhat closer variant in some older speakers, although this is not a particular feature of trad-RP. The vowel is the norm in unstressed position in the morphemes -ed, -es,

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as in hunted, faces, and in such words as minutes, David. Elsewhere in unstressed syllables, reduction to [´] is variably to be expected: vowel reduction is less likely in words where stressed [I] is in the preceding syllable, as in significant, than when it is not, as in horrible, happily. Gimson (1984: 50–53) closely examines many of the details of this phenomenon. DRESS

The RP vowel is half open front spread. Trad-RP has a raised variety that is best represented as /e/, although it does not typically reach the height of a half-closed vowel. Recent change in this vowel is apparently part of a general lowering of the short front vowels, involving KIT and, most markedly, TRAP. TRAP

Associated with the general tendency of the modern RP front vowels to lower articulation (see also KIT and DRESS), the movement by younger speakers from tradRP [Q] to RP [a] is arguably one of the most striking changes that has taken place in the accent group in recent years. (This “classical” chain shift, it should be noted, is being recognized in the accents of some non-standard dialects too, as in Ashford, Kent, by Kerswill [2002: 201].) It is also undoubtedly a most controversial matter. This is seemingly at least in part because the newer form corresponds with what is perceived by many to be a ‘Northern’ sound (sometimes described rather curiously as “flat a”), on which see the discussion of the BATH vowel below. Beyond this simple issue of regional prejudice, [a] is also a problematic sound for some Southern speakers, since, as Wells (1982: 291–292) explains, it is little different from a fronted version of their /√/ (‘their’ since Northern accents do not possess this phoneme): with [a] and [√] falling (close) together (see STRUT), distinctions between fan and fun blur or disappear in the perception of those used to the more obvious distinction between [Q] and [√]. Although an issue for some, this trad-RP to RP change is a matter of which British English native-speakers are aware (mimicking trad-RP bet for bat and so on). It is also coming to be remarked upon in the usually conservative English Language Teaching field (Weiner and Upton 2000). LOT

This is realized as a fully open to slightly raised rounded back vowel, whatever the variety of RP. STRUT

The vowel is pronounced by many RP and by trad-RP speakers as a centralized and slightly lowered [√]. For many speakers /√/ is raised centralized [a]: the more

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central and lowered the vowel is, the more likelihood there is for confusion over RP [a] (see TRAP). There is an increasing appearance, however, of an innovation in which [√] is raised and retracted from the centralized, towards (though not to) a half-close advanced position. Variation in the STRUT vowel is a most prominent feature of north-south distinction in British English accents, and the recent RP raising development might be seen as a ‘fudge’ (Chambers and Trudgill 1998: 110–113) between the Northern [U] and Southern [√]. Interestingly, this feature was noted as the most usual form in the speech of mid-twentieth century traditional dialect speakers in the South and south Midlands (Orton 1962–1971; Upton 1995). FOOT

Quite uncontroversially, this is realized as a half-close and advanced rounded vowel in all types of RP. The set gives rise to some of the most obvious and frequently-remarked hypercorrections amongst Northern STRUT [U]-speakers striving to acquire RP when, aware that RP STRUT is invariably [√], not [U], they consciously change their FOOT vowel to [√], producing [p√t] put, [b√tS´] butcher. BATH

The Received Pronunciation vowel is characteristically described as exclusively a long back spread vowel, its position being advanced from full retracted. This is undoubtedly a correct description for the vowel of very many speakers. Two matters must be taken into account for a proper description of RP, however. Firstly, the long vowel is becoming both increasingly centralized and more shortened, while the more retracted sound is perceived by most native speakers now to be worthy of Refined RP caricature as being unacceptably ‘plummy’. It would seem that the forward movement is being led by those words in the set where the vowel has a following nasal, as chance, sample. This development might be connected with a second, the inclusion in the model adopted here of ‘Northern short a’ in the RP inventory. Many RP speakers, whose accent corresponds with that of other speakers on all other features, diverge particularly on this one variable, and might themselves use both [A˘] and [a] variants interchangeably. (The other widespread Northern feature characterizing difference from the South, [U] in the STRUT vowel, is, unlike this BATH-vowel feature, usually attended by other markers of northernness, such as long monophthongal FACE or GOAT vowels.) The use of BATH-[a] will essentially be because the RP speaker has Northern or north Midland origins, in the regional accents of which areas there is no TRAP/BATH distinction; the use of [A˘] will either be because the speaker has Southern or south Midland origins, and so comes from an area with vernacular TRAP/BATH distinction, or because their speech is conditioned by trad-RP.

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Wells’s classification (1982: 297) of features as “Near-RP” on grounds of their not conforming to “phonemic oppositions found in RP” (of which [his] /Q ~ A˘/ here is one) makes an assumption about RP structure supportable if one remains wedded to a south-centric view of the accent. Inclusion of BATH-vowel [a] in RP is on grounds already claimed: the accent is not to be thought of as an exclusively southern-British phenomenon (Upton, Kretzschmar and Konopka 2001: xii), and the inclusion of “a different set of criteria” resulting in “a somewhat diluted form of the traditional standard” (Gimson 1984: 53) is a description which well suits this move. CLOTH

This vowel is in RP short, fully open, fully retracted and rounded. Trad-RP [ç˘] (a feature now more associated with Refined RP) is invariably judged risible by native British English speakers, RP and non-RP alike. NURSE

There is some considerable variation in the realization of this central vowel, from half open to half close or slightly higher for some RP speakers. [´˘] is chosen as the transcription here, reflecting the considerable variation apparent amongst speakers: it subsumes the more restrictive [Œ˘] used by many transcribers of RP (also reducing by one the number of symbols in the transcription set). FLEECE

In both varieties this is a long high front vowel, articulated with lips spread. The tongue is typically slightly lowered from the fully close position. Some slight gliding from the KIT-vowel position is usual, with [Ii] being more usual than [i˘]. FACE

This short upgliding diphthong shows little if any variability. Its startpoint is at or slightly below half-close front, from where movement is to the KIT vowel. TradRP speakers are likely to begin the diphthong high, at rather than below the half open position. PALM

For both RP and trad-RP speakers, realization is as a fully open, advanced or centralized long spread vowel. The more retracted the form, the nearer it approaches that of Refined RP. THOUGHT

This is [ç˘]. Compare this in all words in the set with the sounds applying at NORTH/FORCE below.

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GOAT

Starting at a central position, this glide moves to or in the direction of RP /U/, giving [´U]. Trad-RP has variant [oU], with a somewhat centralized startpoint, though by no means all speakers of that accent are characterized by its use. GOOSE

In all forms this is a long high back vowel with lip rounding. The characteristic point of RP articulation is slightly relaxed from fully raised, and also somewhat advanced, with fronting becoming evident among many speakers, especially the young. A fully retracted form might be heard before [l], as in pool, rule, in all varieties (and in all positions in Refined RP). A short diphthong, [Uu], is often to be heard word-finally, in such words as sue, who. PRICE

RP starts this diphthong at a low central point, and moves in the direction of the KIT vowel /I/. The startpoint is conventionally set at [a]. However, as the RP startvowel can in fact be at any point from centralized front to centralized back, and is raised from the fully open position, [√] is most usefully to be identified for its description (see STRUT above). The RP transcription /√I/ was first used for the PRICE-vowel by MacCarthy (1978), and the [√] startpoint is acknowledged as likely by Cruttenden (1994: 122). [aI], with just a slightly retracted startpoint, can be heard from some trad-RP speakers. CHOICE

RP and trad-RP have a startpoint at a fully back half open position, the tongue moving in the direction of KIT. MOUTH

The RP diphthong begins near the front open position, lips spread: some retraction is to be expected, although this is not considerable. The glide then proceeds towards, though not completely to, FOOT. Trad-RP sees a startpoint that is centralized rather than only retracted, and may encompass [AU] as well as [aU]. (The most retracted forms, accompanied by lengthening of the first element of the diphthong, are typical of Refined RP.) NEAR

Beginning at KIT, the RP and trad-RP diphthong glides to a mid- to low-central position. (Refined RP characteristically places prominence on the second element, which might typically be rendered as [´˘] or [A˘]: these, and especially the latter, are, like [EU] for GOAT, likely to be singled out as features worthy of caricature.)

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SQUARE

In RP this is a long monophthong at a front half-open position, articulated with lips spread: there might or might not be some slight off-gliding present, giving [E˘´ ~ E˘], but the dominant effect is of a single sound here. Trad-RP SQUARE is characterized by a centring diphthong [E´]. The monophthong-diphthong distinction between RP and trad-RP is, with TRAP-variation, one of the clearest that can be identified between the most modern and more dated varieties of the accent. START

This vowel is essentially the same as that for BATH for those speakers who have a long vowel there. RP speakers with the short-vowel BATH variant have a long START vowel, but are likely to be among the speakers who have the most fronted versions. NORTH/FORCE

RP and trad-RP vowels here are identical to that for THOUGHT, namely the halfopen lip-rounded back vowel [ç˘]. CURE

A frequent realization of this phoneme is [U´], the centring diphthong starting at FOOT and gliding to a mid to open central position. This sound is to be heard from trad-RP speakers, and from many speakers of RP of the middle and older generations especially. Increasingly occurring as a feature of RP, however, is long monophthongal [ç˘], explained by Cruttenden (1994: 134) as a stage further than the [ç´] made possible for CURE by the loss of that sound as a feature of FORCE, where it was formerly heard: hence Shaw, sure, shore, formerly likely to be rendered in RP as /Sç˘, SU´, Sç´/ fall together for many present-day RP speakers as /Sç˘/. FIRE, POWER

These are most usually realized as triphthongs in RP, [√I´] and [aU´] respectively. “Smoothing” (Wells 1982: 286, 288, 292–293) of these to diphthongs [√´], [a´ ~ A´] or to monophthongs [√˘], [a˘ ~ A˘] can readily be heard from all speakers in rapid speech (and especially from speakers of Refined RP in words in isolation). happY RP has a tense [i] for this unstressed vowel, where trad-RP has [I]. RP [i] is sometimes attended by some, though not by full, length. lettER The mid-vowel [´] is the realization for this in all RP varieties. Rhoticity is never a feature of RP, so that in final position no [r] is pronounced. However, [r] is used

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as a linking feature, when in speech a word ending in is followed by another starting with a vowel. Thus better or worse is in RP [«bEt´r ç˘ »w´˘s]. commA [´] is the sound in all RP varieties, as with lettER. In the case of RP, [r] is used to create a link to a following word beginning with a vowel although, unlike with lettER, this is not supported by the orthography. This so-called intrusive , although now “used freely in mainstream (native) RP” (Wells 1982: 284), is abhorred by many advocates of more restrictive varieties of the accent, and rarely features in its description in teaching texts or dictionary transcriptions.

4.

The consonants of RP

RP and trad-RP correspond as regards their consonant phoneme inventory, and essentially in realization. Cruttenden (1994: 196) provides statistics for consonant frequencies in Received Pronunciation, based on the work of Fry (on “Southern English”) and Perren, and these data introduce the twenty-four phonemes. Table 2. Text frequencies of consonants in Received Pronunciation (Cruttenden 1994: 196) % n t d s l

7.58 6.42 5.14 4.81 3.66

D r

3.56

m k

3.22 3.09

w

3.51

% b f p h N g S j

1.97 1.79 1.78 1.46 1.15 1.05 0.96

dZ

0.88 0.60

2.81

tS

0.41

z

2.46

T

0.37

v

2.00

Z

0.10

Total all consonants: 60.78%

Some of these frequencies are, of course, structurally conditioned. Frequent occurrence of determiner the and pronouns in will account for comparatively high scores for [D] and [w]. This aside, it is noteworthy that, as Cruttenden

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(1994: 196) observes, “the alveolar phonemes emerge as those which occur most frequently in English, this being a generalization which appears to be applicable to many languages”. There is also some dominance of the voiceless over the voiced in sounds thus paired. The phonology of the RP/trad-RP consonantal system is widely known and has been extensively discussed (see especially the seminal work begun by Gimson, manifested in Cruttenden 1994). The account below concentrates on particular issues in this area rather than on an account of each phoneme in turn. Glottalisation Existence of a glottal plosive in non-RP accents of English is well-known and much researched. It is often fondly supposed that this does not occur in RP. However, whilst it is true that, at least at present, [?] does not occur in RP intervocalically within a word (Ramsaran 1990: 181), it is to be encountered elsewhere. RP glottaling is most associated with /t/. Whilst it might be avoided in careful speech and is less likely to be heard in citation forms than in conversation, it is quite regularly to be expected in RP in syllable-final position preceding a non-syllabic consonant, as rat trap, postbox, tentpeg, catflap, Rottweiler. Like Gatwick, which regularly exhibits the glottal, another of London’s airports, Luton, is also increasingly to be heard pronounced with [?] preceding a syllabic /n/. [?] is frequently to be heard intervocalically at a syllable boundary, where the second syllable is stressed, giving [rI»?Entr´nt] re-entrant, [dI»?aktIveIt] de-activate. Trad-RP makes use of this device too in the break or hiatus created by the avoidance of intrusive /r/ (see below), as in drawing, law and order. Linking and intrusive /r/ Linking /r/, retained historical post-vocalic word-final /r/ occurring before a vowel in the following word, is, as stated above at lettER, a normal feature of Received Pronunciation. In the most careful, mannered forms this might be avoided, rendering far away [fA˘ ?´»weI] rather than [fA˘r ?´»weI]: it is unlikely that many speakers feel under special pressure to avoid such an hiatus now. The insertion of a non-historical intrusive /r/, referred to in commA above, when following word-final /´/, /A˘/, or /ç˘/ before a word beginning with a vowel, has typically been proscribed for users of Received Pronunciation. This creates an hiatus between the adjacent vowel sounds or, alternatively, a glottal plosive might be interposed between them, giving [lç˘ ´nd »ç˘d´] or [lç˘ ?´nd »ç˘d´] law and order. RP shows no such inhibitions, with intrusive /r/ being the norm: [lç˘r ´nd »ç˘d´], [DI √I»dI´r ´v It] the idea of it. Similarly, intrusive /r/ occurs as the RP norm word-internally where the need is to avoid the hiatus, thus [»drç˘rIn] drawing.

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Yod coalescence and yod deletion Coalescence of /tj/, /dj/, /sj/, and /zj/ to /dS/, /dZ/, /S/, /Z/ is a general feature of Received Pronunciation (Ramsaran 1990: 187–188; Cruttenden 1994: 192), heard regularly for example in attitude, residue, tissue, usual. Coalesced forms are becoming increasingly apparent in all positions in RP, where they provide a less formal alternative to the more “careful” forms. The resistance to coalescence wordinitially and before stressed vowels (dune, reduce) to which Ramsaran refers is more a feature of trad-RP speakers than of those of RP, although non-coalesced forms might be expected to be more regularly heard in their pronunciation of higher-level lexical items: for example pendulate is likely to be [»pEndjUleIt] as well as [»pEndZUleIt]. It is usual in RP for the combination /lu˘/ to occur word-initially and following unaccented vowels in those words where historically /lju˘/ occurred and where it is in consequence found in Refined RP and some trad-RP. Thus RP lute and loot are homophonous. Yod deletion is similarly characteristic word-initially in RP in such words as super and suit, where [sju˘] is found variably with [su˘] in trad-RP.

RP /w/ represented by the spelling in such words as when, while, whistle is invariably [w]. In trad-RP [w] is variable with [hw] (the regular form in Refined RP). In recent years “the use of /hw/ as a phoneme has declined rapidly (even though it is often taught as the correct form in verse-speaking)” (Cruttenden 1994: 195): the last part of this observation points to the somewhat rarified and self-conscious status now attaching to the feature. Syllabic consonants “The syllabic sound of a syllable is generally a vowel, but consonants may also be syllabic. The more sonorous consonants such as n, l often are so, as in the English words people »pi˘pl, little »litl, button »btn” (Jones 1969: paragraph 213). The morpheme -ment is typically [mn2t]. It is normal for the syllabic consonant to be retained when a morpheme spelt with an initial vowel follows it, giving littler [»lItl™], buttoning [»b√tn2IN]. (Jones uses the distinctive pair lightening [»l√Itn2IN] and lightning [»l√ItnIN] to illustrate this point.) It is frequently the case, however, that syllabicization does not occur before an unstressed vowel, especially in rapid connected speech, so that both RP lightening and lightning might be rendered as [»l√ItnIN]. * I am most grateful to Dr Richard Matthews of the University of Freiburg for invaluable comments made on a draft of this paper. Any flaws remaining in its final form are to be laid entirely at my door, not his.

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Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Cruttenden, Alan 1994 Gimson’s Pronunciation of English. 5th edition. London: Arnold. Gimson, Alfred C. 1984 The RP accent. In: Trudgill (ed.), 32–44. Jones, Daniel 1917 An English Pronouncing Dictionary. London: Dent. 1969 An Outline of English Phonetics. Cambridge: Heffer. Kerswill, Paul 2002 Models of linguistic change and diffusion: new evidence from dialect leveling in British English. Reading Working Papers in Linguistics 6: 187–216. MacCarthy, Peter 1978 The Teaching of Pronunciation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ramsaran, Susan 1990 RP: fact and fiction. In: Susan Ramsaran (ed.), Studies in the Pronunciation of English: A Commemorative Volume in Honour of A.C. Gimson, 178–190. London: Routledge. Upton, Clive 1995 Mixing and fudging in Midland and Southern dialects of England: the cup and foot vowels. In: Jack Windsor Lewis (ed.), Studies in General and English Phonetics: Essays in Honour of Professor J.D. O’Connor, 385–394. London: Routledge. Upton, Clive, William A. Kretzschmar Jr. and Rafal Konopka 2001 The Oxford Dictionary of Pronunciation for Current English. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Weiner, Edmund and Clive Upton 2000 [hat], [hæt], and all that. English Today 61: 44–46.

British Creole: phonology Peter L. Patrick

1.

Introduction

British Creole (BrC) is spoken by British-born people of Caribbean background whose parents, grandparents or great-grandparents migrated to Britain since 1948. It is an ethnic variety, rather than a regional or local one. BrC is the product of dialect contact between West Indian migrants, the largest group of whom during the period of critical formation (1950–1970) were Jamaican, and vernacular varieties of urban English English (EngE). I use dialect contact advisedly in view of the relative structural similarity between Caribbean English-lexicon Creoles (CarECs) and EngE, especially at the phonological level; the alternative, language contact, suggests the non-genetic relation between these varieties that most creolists assert, primarily on the basis of contrasts in morphology and syntax. Because of the Jamaican input, most apparent at the lexical and grammatical level, BrC has been described as “a collection of local British varieties of J[amaican] C[reole]” (Sebba 1993: 139). This verdict derives from grammar-focused descriptions, however, which privilege the range of varieties most divergent from British English (BrE), and may not reflect the complexities of phonological variation and assimilation to British models, especially for UK-born speakers. Grammar-focused investigations of BrC (as most of them are) insist that “intermediate forms [...] [a]re sufficiently few in number to be excluded” from analysis (Edwards 1986: 50). This is not true of phonology. Moreover, as phonological markers of BrC are often the easiest to acquire, and present the weakest claim to British Black identity, as the range of speech including them is much wider than the range including only core grammatical features. Accordingly this chapter casts a wide net. Languages brought by immigrant minorities to a new urban environment typically suffer one of two fates. They may die out as and when the immigrants or their descendants assimilate fully into the target society, and become native speakers of one of its existing varieties (often contributing a few loanwords, a grammatical construction or phonological pattern or two). They may be maintained as minority languages, serving the needs of an in-group which remains culturally distinct. This is the stance from which existing treatments of BrC are written: they emphasize its retention of Jamaican features, its systematic nature and distinctive properties. There are good social and pragmatic reasons for doing so in the case of discriminated languages and groups, quite apart from linguistictheoretical imperatives.

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Much more rarely, a deeper fusion of incoming and target languages occurs, wherein significant elements of language structure are retained, serving the social purposes of a group which becomes established on the local scene but never fully assimilates, often for reasons of oppression and discrimination. African American Vernacular English (AAVE), assuming its input languages included a (Caribbean or American) plantation Creole as well as African ancestral varieties, is a very relevant example. In such cases, analysis that focuses purely on retention of conservative features and systemic distinctness would miss much of what is most important. The description below presumes that a similar outcome (partial retention and incomplete assimilation) is possible for BrC, and deserves attention. 1.1.

Input and diffusion

Linguistic variation among receiving communities in Britain, especially on the phonological level, is responsible for considerable diffuseness, so much so that it is incorrect to describe BrC as comprising a single accent. Indeed, BrC is found both north and south of England’s principal dialect boundaries, and in all major dialect areas of the South of England. BrC speakers in Ipswich or Reading, with strong Barbadian input, or Dominican-ancestry speakers in Bradford, may differ systematically from London Jamaicans, whose speech contrasts with Dudley’s Jamaican-derived population due to the West Midlands input in Dudley. Since Afro-Caribbeans, over time, moved beyond the initial entry points of migration to a range of urban areas (including Birmingham, Leicester, Manchester, Nottingham, Sheffield), and their children and descendants have become well-integrated into these speech communities (whose English dialect is their primary vernacular), such diffuseness in phonology may have increased rather than abated. Some authors (e.g. Sutcliffe and Figueroa 1992) describe BrC as a stable variety, meaning that it shows considerable continuity with Jamaican Creole (JamC). Indeed it does, but it is not known how far into the future this can be projected. Linguists can hardly focus only on how thoroughly Caribbean characteristics are retained, given the primacy of BrE for most UK-born speakers; investigation of a possibly-emerging, ethnically-distinctive dialect is an important research target. With respect to ancestral Island Creoles (IslCs), i.e., source varieties of Englishlexicon Creole spoken natively in the West Indies, and by Caribbean-born migrants overseas, BrC may be called a post-native variety. For its canonical speakers today it is a second or later variety, and their (other) first variety is not an Island Creole. It may occasionally be spoken indistinguishably from an Island Creole: Sutcliffe (1982: 132) notes that some British-born speakers in Bedford had essentially full native command of Jamaican Creole (JamC), while Tate (1984) describes Rastafarians of Dominican descent in Bradford whose accent passed for Jamaican among Jamaicans. BrC may also be acquired in childhood within the critical pe-

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riod: Sebba (1993: 37–40) reports that the age of acquisition varies (though studies of Afro-Caribbean child language socialisation into BrC are needed). Yet it seems clear that most speakers of BrC do not acquire it as a primary vernacular, and do not use it in preference to EngE, in a sustained fashion, across a wide range of domains. It is thus characteristic of BrC that, in any given community of speakers, a range of competence exists from token to full. However, IslC input persists, via both earlier and current immigrants and family visits, as well as mass media (again largely Jamaica-focused). The presence of IslC speakers in British Afro-Caribbean communities ensures that adaptation, accommodation and acquisition remain a two-way street, with IslC speakers targeting EngE (and perhaps BrC) norms while BrC speakers are influenced by IslC norms. Although local British icons and exemplars have also arisen, BrC thus cannot be called normatively autonomous. As BrC serves different social purposes, Island JamC (Patrick, other volume) cannot reasonably be the touchstone for full competence. Given this, and the present focus on phonology (which shows perhaps greater assimilation to BrE norms than grammar), the description below attempts to avoid idealising BrC at its Creole extremity: not to police the distance between it and EngE, but to explore the linguistic space between that Creole pole and the possibly-now-emerging new dialect of BrE spoken by Caribbean-origin Britons. BrC arose via the development of a generalised ‘Black British’ identity, partly externally imposed, as Caribbean people of many colours, ethnicities and class backgrounds found themselves viewed in Britain as black, West Indian and working-class (Gilroy 1987). Caribbean English (Island) Creoles are uniformly languages of ethnic and/or national identification; not so, BrC. Elements of BrC are used both between whites and blacks, as well as among white working-class (Rosen and Burgess 1980; Hewitt 1986) and Asian youth (Rampton 1995). Such ‘crossing’ indexes complex social meanings (like outgroup use of AAVE in the US), but appears both socially limited and grammatically restricted by comparison to British Afro-Caribbean community speech. Little research exists on BrC; no sociolinguistic speech community survey has been performed in twenty years. The summary below, which follows earlier work by Sutcliffe (1982 in Bedford, 1992 in Dudley), Edwards (1986 in Dudley), and Sebba (1993 in London), must be considered tentative pending further investigation. However, it is not only lack of research that makes the picture more complex than most immigrant varieties. The principal causes can be identified, if their workings are not fully understood: (1) the structural relation between input varieties (CarECs and vernacular EngE), which is closer than for most genetically unrelated languages, yet further apart than that of many dialects; (2) the tangled history of language subordination, ideology and attitudes held by Caribbean peoples towards British English, and all it represents, as well as vice versa (Mühleisen 2002); and (3) the social and demographic factors relating to acquisition.

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1.2.

Forms of speech and social demographic factors

The forms of speech created by this contact situation are multiple, as are their labels, including Black London English, British Black English, London Jamaican, London/Jamaican, British/Jamaican Creole, and such less-discriminating terms as Patwa (~ Patois), Creole, ‘dialect’, West Indian English, Afro-Lingua, and Nation Language (which specify no particular source or British community). Such names for language varieties and people, though worthy of sociolinguistic study, cannot be explored here. An important research problem, only partially attempted to date (Sebba 1993: 10), is to identify, constrain and describe the major modes of BrC. One might not wish to call all the forms of speech described below by the label BrC, but they exemplify the variety of language within the community: (1)

a. Use of partly-assimilated vernacular elements of British English into Island Creole (e.g. accent, lexicon); b. IslC that has undergone long-term accommodation to BrE, in face-toface interactions by adult Caribbean immigrants (Wells 1973); c. use of IslC in code-switching with BrE by people who natively speak both; d. Creole-like speech learned young from native IslC-speaking family, by Afro-Caribbean native speakers of BrE; e. Creole-like speech learned later from IslC-speaking peers, by AfroCaribbean native speakers of BrE; f. Creole-like speech learned late from non-native-IslC-speaking sources, and incorporated into BrE; g. token elements of Creole speech, not sustained or sustainable, acquired unsystematically by Afro-Caribbean native speakers of BrE, or h. …by non-Afro-Caribbean native speakers of BrE, and i. emerging ethnically-distinctive varieties of BrE spoken primarily by Caribbean-origin Britons, incorporating various elements from Creolelike speech.

A range of factors combine in three major dimensions to shape these speechforms: Caribbean family input (i.e. Jamaican/other English Creole/other Caribbean/none); community-type in Britain (i.e. urban South East England/other urban/rural, varying in degree of contact with London); and nativeness/degree of acquisition (i.e., acquisition from birth/before circa twelve years/afterwards; plus, generational status relative to immigration). While distinguishable in the abstract, these necessarily overlap in practice to produce the major modes of BrC, and are not exhaustive.

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Little is known of linguistic variation according to classic sociolinguistic factors such as age, sex, and class, though it is clear that the great majority of BrC speakers are working-class, and that age has no simple relationship to generation of immigration. The complex role of ethnicity in acquisition has been explored mainly in terms of individual agency via “acts of identity” (LePage and Tabouret-Keller 1985), especially regarding assimilation into British nationhood and preservation of distinctive minority status. People of Caribbean heritage are of mixed background by definition, and mixing continues to occur in England across regional, social and racial lines. To the extent that “mixed-race” children represent linguistically heterogeneous family backgrounds, they will influence the development of BrC. 1.3.

Linguistic convergence

Insofar as BrC possesses a stable phonological structure, it is the result of linguistic convergence between (i) JamC, as speakers perceive it; (ii) local vernacular BrE; and possibly (iii) another Caribbean English variety (though few traces of this type surface). The best-known variety, treated below, takes London Vernacular English (LonVE) as input (ii); other varieties are subject to some London influence as well. At the level of the phonological inventory, BrC as expected has the more numerous phonemic contrasts of LonVE, plus some phonetic realizations typical of JamC. Social pressures may also influence speakers to converge with “proper English” (as likely to be vernacular BrE as Received Pronunciation [RP]) in formal settings, producing a more British-sounding result than conversational speech, as in the word-lists recorded.

2.

Vowels and diphthongs

Nearly a dozen analyses of JamC vowel and diphthong systems exist, positing inventories from 8–17, and variously motivated by historical transparency (Cassidy 1961), symmetry (Devonish and Harry, this volume) or phonetic accuracy (Beckford Wassink 1999). This last, the most detailed empirical analysis, describes JamC as a V-shaped, peripheral, symmetrical system with five front and five back vowels and two at the low apex, and demonstrates that contrasts often attributed to length alone, an important distinctive feature of JamC, are supported by systematic quality distinctions as well. BrC however relies primarily on vowel quality, and vowel length generally patterns with LonVE. Variants which might be contrastively associated with Standard Jamaican English (StJamE) are rare in BrC, where vernacular structures (both British and Jamaican) predominate, and are more often encountered in the speech of Caribbean-born migrants than later generations.

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(2)

Jamaican Creole vowel inventory (based on Beckford Wassink 1999) i˘

u˘ I

U e˘

o˘ E

√ aI

ç a A˘

The inventory in (2) is fairly typical, except that it explicitly recognises quality distinctions as well as length in every sub-system. Analyses with fewer members inevitably dephonemicise some regular and salient distinctions; those with more typically admit debatable separate subclasses, such as rhotic vowels (Veatch 1991). Beckford Wassink concludes that /ç/ is not phonetically distinguishable for most speakers from /a/, as suggested in Patrick (1995), thus giving only five short vowels and six long ones or diphthongs.

Table 1. Variants in British Creole (South East England variety). FLEECE

i ~ Ii

NEAR

DRESS e_ ~ E

FACE

ie ~ iE ~ e˘ ~ EI

SQUARE ier ~ iEr ~ e˘ ~ E˘

TRAP

a~Q

PALM

a˘ ~ A˘

START

a˘ ~ a=˘ > A˘(r)

LOT

a~Å~ç

THOUGHT a˘ ~ ç˘ ~ o˘

NORTH

a˘ ~ A˘(r) ~ ç˘ ~ o˘

KIT

i~I

STRUT ç ~ ç_ ~ å ~ √ GOAT

uo ~ Uo ~ U´ ~ o˘ ~ ´o_ FORCE

ier ~ iEr > I´ ~ i˘

uo ~ Uo ~ o_˘(r) ~ ç £˘

FOOT

u~U

GOOSE

u˘ ~ u_˘ ~ ¨˘

CURE

jç˘ ~ jo˘(r)

BATH

a˘ ~ a_˘ ~ A˘

PRICE

ai ~ aI ~ AE, Ae

happY

I~i

CHOICE

ai ~ çI ~ çE

lettER

a~å

horsES

I

commA

a~å

CLOTH a˘ ~ A ~ Å

NURSE ç_r ~ Pr ~ ¨´ ~ MOUTH

Œ˘ ~ Œr˘

çU ~ aU ~ Q´

Table 1 summarises the principal vowel variants; the general effect is a Londonlike system with a variably Jamaican-like sound. It is difficult, in the present state of knowledge, to make quantitative statements about preference, and it cannot be asserted (without premature idealisation) that all variants even belong to the same system, given such factors as variable rhoticity, vowel quality dispersion and overlap, alternation of centring glides with monophthongs with upglides in the same word-class, etc. Nevertheless, all variants may be encoun-

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tered in the speech of Caribbean-origin Britons who claim to be using ‘Patwa’ or ‘Creole’. There are often differences, however, between speakers who were born and spent at least early childhood years in the Caribbean, and those born in Britain like Sally, the twenty-something speaker of the word-list sample on the accompanying CD-ROM. Though both Sally’s parents are from Kingston, she identifies herself during the recording saying, “Yeah but I’m Cockney!” Her mother and Paulette, a British-born but Jamaica-raised woman a generation older, tease her saying “You fly the flag”, and “You Londoner... Cockney”. Sally’s assimilated speech may represent the future of London Jamaican pronunciation, though the chart captures a range of variants (hers are generally rightmost, Paulette’s to the left). KIT, DRESS, FOOT, STRUT

For short non-low vowels, BrC realisations are often more peripheral and tenser than the London norm, accurately reflecting JamC. Most authors typically phonemicise the STRUT items as /o/ although they never reach [o]; however, they are relatively back and often rounded to [ç]. TRAP, LOT, BATH, PALM

Southern BrC is a “broad-BATH” dialect like its input varieties. Short-O (ME o) and short-A (ME ) merged in the formation of JamC, as the latter never raised from [a] to [Q] according to Cassidy and LePage (1980: xlix), so pronunciations with [Q] represent StJamE or, more probably, BrE influence. Again targeting basilectal JamC as reference variety, BrC may dramatically reduce vowel-quality contrasts among low vowels (Patrick 1999). Though their ranges do not entirely overlap, all four word-classes share front, open variants, sometimes centralised (e.g. Sally); for some speakers TRAP and LOT may be merged, though others retain rounding on the latter. However, length distinctions are robust and may even be exaggerated relative to London English (Beckford Wassink [1999: 186] finds a 1.6:1 ratio for longto-short in JamC, typical of languages where quantity is the primary distinction). Some Jamaican-born speakers alternate [a˘] and [A˘] in succession, both long. The possibly greater salience of quantity contrasts may account for the lengthening tendency observed in CLOTH words (normally short in South East England, Wells 1982) pronounced with front vowels; UK-born assimilated speakers tend to have short, backer vowels. FLEECE, GOOSE

BrC long vowels appear to be only sporadically and lightly affected by the London Diphthong Shift, for UK-born speakers only (e.g. Sally has slightly centralised monophthongs such as [u_˘] for GOOSE); Jamaican-born ones generally follow both JamC and StJamE in having tense monophthongs. The fully centralised variants of /i˘/ [´i] and /u˘/ [´¨] do not seem to co-occur with BrC grammar and lexis, even

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in code-switching. One wonders whether BrC, like AAVE (Labov 2001), might provide a locus for non-participation in predominant vowel-shifts. PRICE, CHOICE, MOUTH

The PRICE/CHOICE merger, general in JamC (Thomas 2001: 163) but carefully distinguished by StJamE speakers, does not hold for BrC, where some back round diphthongs occur in CHOICE words. Use of /w/ to distinguish these (/bwai/ ‘boy’, as in JamC) from PRICE words is a salient marker of BrC, and may occur even where vowel quality makes it redundant. Both diphthongs contain strong glides; they may be more peripheral before unvoiced consonants. For UK-born speakers, both onset and target may be slightly retracted or lowered. However, Sutcliffe and Figueroa (1992: 98) observe a fronting and raising of the onset in Rastafarianidentified speakers in Dudley. MOUTH generally does not show the [o] or [U] starting point common in JamC but is lowered and/or fronted, converging with London realizations; the glide may be abbreviated to a centring one, targeting [´]. Exceptions to this are lexicalized pronunciations of common words ending in a velar nasal, realised /√N/ in BrC, where LonVE has the MOUTH diphthong followed by /n/ or /nd/, as in down [d√N ~ dç_N] town, round. FACE, GOAT

These word-classes, among the most various and stigmatized in JamC, lend themselves to a host of realisations in BrC. They occur as down-gliding or, more commonly, in-gliding diphthongs, e.g. [gu´t], mid monophthongs, e.g. [go˘t], or even London-like up-gliding diphthongs, e.g. [g´o_t] (rarely as the high monophthongs occasionally found in Jamaica). They do not seem to participate in the London Diphthong Shift, which lowers the starting point for both right down to [a], since they rarely dip below [E]. While Sally’s FACE is London-like, her GOAT [g´o_t] is a classic BrC hybrid: it has a central starting-point like many London speakers, but the [o] target is typical of JamC, with none of the fronting to [I], [Y] found in recent years (Altendorf and Watt, this volume). Despite some l-vocalization, the vowel quality in GOAT ~ GOAL is similar. Beckford Wassink (1999: 161) notes that [ie] is more prevalent and less stigmatised for FACE in urban Jamaican than [uo] is for GOAT; it is expected that frequency would be reversed in BrC, since what is not prestigious in Kingston may be a source of covert prestige or basilectal focussing in Britain. Lexical exceptions mek [mEk] ‘make, let’ and tek [tEk] ‘take’ are common markers of BrC, but do not vary as often with [miek] and [tiek] as in JamC. happY, lettER, COMMA The reduction vowel for weak syllables in JamC is generally closer to [å] or even [a] in JamC than to schwa; /a/ is a plausible phoneme assignment. This has led

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some analysts to mistakenly posit /a/ as the target of all in-gliding and down-gliding diphthongs, as well, though there is no evidence that such glides ever terminate in [a]. It is common for native speakers of both JamC and StJamE to produce full, unreduced vowels in non-final environments where BrE varieties reduce them, but this is less true of BrC. HappY is occasionally lax for Jamaican-born speakers, whose open syllables regularly end in short lax vowels. NEAR, SQUARE

JamC is variably (semi-)rhotic but BrC is less so. This may be due to the sociolinguistic confusion of values attached to rhoticity, which is more often present in StJamE than basilectal JamC, but less often present in both standard and vernacular varieties of South East England. Rhotic pronunciations may be interpreted as either basilectal or acrolectal in Jamaican contexts, depending on linguistic environment, but are non-local in London and thus not especially likely to surface in BrC, on either count. These two word-classes are salient environments for post-vocalic /r/ appearance in BrC, as it may coincide with basilectal in-glides [ier, iEr], which are less stigmatised in this environment. However, both in BrC and basilectal JamC, non-pre-vocalic /r/ is generally limited to morpheme-final position. Wells (1973: 95–101), describing JamC adults undergoing long-term accommodation to BrE, gives frequencies of appearance before a variety of final consonants. In BrC focused on basilectal JamC, the two word-classes may merge in NEAR with an in-glide, thus contrasting strongly with LonVE. For British-born speakers, the occasional acrolectal StJamE merging in SQUARE (in which cheers may be pronounced with a mid monophthong, as though it were chairs ) is not typical of BrC, since the two word-classes may be distinguished on height, as [I˘] and [E˘], with or without a centring glide. NURSE

This vowel is not normally a distinct one in JamC, being simply the STRUT vowel plus /r/. In BrC a range of somewhat higher, mid-central pronunciations also occur. In both varieties, rounding is common. R-coloration is most frequent morphemefinally, but may occur before /rC/ combinations, especially /rt, rd/. With mid-central pronunciations it is less common, unlike the StJamE long monophthong, but does occur in BrC. Sutcliffe and Figueroa (1992: 103) record for Dudley a close central onset /¨´/, “a new sound... not noted for JC formerly” in wok ‘work’, tod ‘third’, church ‘church’, etc. START, NORTH, FORCE

As with TRAP etc., the START and NORTH vowels in BrC often merge in a front open vowel for JamC-focussed speakers, typically long and with no r-coloration [a˘], though much backer and rounded pronunciations of NORTH words commonly

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occur for UK-born speakers (Sally has [o_˘]). FORCE is merged with NORTH in many dialects, including South Eeast English, but not in JamC or the Caribbean generally, which Thomas (2001: 47) calls “[p]erhaps the last stronghold of the /çr/ - /or/ distinction”. Sutcliffe and Figueroa (1992: 102) hypothesise that this merger is underway in BrC, but in the London area they may still be distinguished, even in the most British-assimilated pronunciations, despite being frequently merged in RP and South East England: for Sally, FORCE remains /ç˘/ but NORTH is /o˘/.

3.

Consonants

t, k, g In many BrE dialects including LonVE, syllable-final and word-medial /t/ are often subject to glottal substitution, glottal reinforcement, and other forms of glottalisation. This highly salient and stigmatised vernacular feature is not noticeable in JamC, but occurs regularly in BrC and is assimilated even by Caribbean-born adult migrants. Straw (2001) examines glottal features in the Suffolk town of Ipswich, in the English of Caribbean-born speakers from Jamaica, Nevis and Barbados (it occurs natively in the last, uniquely in the West Indies [Roberts 1988], but in a pattern different from EngE). She finds different frequencies and environmental constraints among them, and between the accents of Caribbean and white Ipswich residents. Analysing spectrograms, Straw and Patrick (forthcoming) observe that the Barbadians partly exhibit general configurations allegedly diffusing across England, partly resemble white Ipswich speakers (in a departure from known patterns of glottalisation elsewhere), and partly show distinctive features which may reflect IslC usage. Only the youngest Barbadian immigrants may have acquired local Ipswich patterns. T-glottalling is thus a candidate not only for incorporation into BrC, but also for phonological diversity within its varieties, and possibly for helping to distinguish a new ethnic dialect of BrE. Palatalization of JamC /k, g/ and insertion of /j/ glides is studied in Patrick (1995) and Beckford Wassink (1999); nothing different has emerged in BrC. Initial consonant clusters, especially /sCC/, e.g. spring, strong, are more likely in BrC than JamC. th-stopping The most salient contrast with prestigious English accents is th-stopping, which uses alveolar stops [t, d] to correspond to dental fricatives [P, D]. This describes JamC and BrC; the stops themselves are sometimes fronted. This contrasts straightforwardly with LonVE, which instead substitutes [f, v], though only noninitially, for the voiced case. (Word-initial [D]-stopping also occurs sometimes in LonVE; this environment is discounted below.) The [f] variant is more common; it is regularly assimilated by older Caribbean-born speakers, and surfaces unadapted,

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or misadapted (Sebba 1993: 53–56), in the BrC of the UK-born younger generation, in words such as both, mouth, north and Samantha. In a study of two London-born brothers whose parents were Jamaican-born, Knight (2001) found that David and Gary both avoided standard variants [P, D] entirely over several hours of speech (700 tokens). However, compared across three situations, David’s use of the JamC/BrC variants ranged from 18% to 55%, while Gary’s never surpassed 6%. Other variants were all LonVE forms, so both were highly vernacular speakers, but David was much more Creole-focussed, although even he used fewer such forms than the Dudley study found (Edwards [1986: 110] reports 41% to 100%). The pattern, confirmed with morphological data (plural-marking), suits their cultural styles: though close and involved in overlapping networks, the two contrast in their musical preferences, racial integration of football teams and school-friend networks, hair and clothing style, etc. In each case David’s associations are more overtly Caribbean or Black British than Gary’s. The family maintain strong contact with Jamaican culture, and neither boy is a ‘lame’ (Labov 1972): the language difference is down to individual agency, given joint exposure to varied resources. As the likelihood of /v/ appearing intervocalically is bolstered by the [D]-to-[v] rule, the old-fashioned occurrence of /b/-for-/v/ in JamC is not salient in BrC, though it happens for frequent forms such as neba ‘never, not’ or beks ‘vexed’. h-dropping Except as a recessive feature in western dialects of the island, [h] is not contrastive in JamC but rather variably appears in syllable onsets, independent of historical or spelling patterns, to mark emphasis. It also signals social maneuvering in the style known as ‘speaky-spoky’ (Patrick 1997). In LonVE [h] also occurs noncontrastively to mark emphasis, a function it shares with glottal stops (Sivertsen 1960). Sebba (1993: 158) suggests that glottal stopping may be replacing h-dropping in this function for Creole-influenced LonVE. A possible motivation for this is that indiscriminate emphatic h-dropping invokes a “stereotype of rural, parental speech” for Britishborn black speakers (Sutcliffe and Figueroa 1992: 97), while glottal stopping retains local, covert prestige and is compatible with BrC norms. Regardless, Sutcliffe observes that younger British-born speakers seldom use emphatic h-dropping. r, l Rhoticity is slightly more frequent in JamC than in LonVE, where it only occurs post-vocalically in linking or intrusive mode. Wells (1982: 577) describes the variable occurrence of /r/ in historically r-ful words as semi-rhotic, noting that /r/ is lost more often before consonants in JamC than syllable-finally. It undergoes further attrition in BrC. While /r/ is retained most often in JamC for NURSE, NORTH and START words, no pattern has emerged in BrC. In both JamC and StJamE, all laterals are clear including syllabics. Consequently there is no l-vocalization. This feature was notoriously not assimilated to EngE

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by the adult immigrant generation of Jamaicans (Wells 1973). They did alter the JamC rule for velarizing alveolar stops before syllabic /l/, adapting /bakl/ ‘bottle’, /niigl/ ‘needle’ to /batl/, /niidl/. Both pronunciations are found in the BrC of younger generations, who are not prestige-driven in the same way, and so produce basilect-focused tokens like Ku kekl a kos pot ‘Look at the kettle cursing the pot’ (Sutcliffe and Figueroa 1992: 83). There is some evidence for dark […] creeping into the speech of Jamaicans who came as children to London, where L-vocalization continues apace in LonVE: such speakers retain clear [l] in chil(d) but may have […] in goal, ghoul, and even vocalization in old and syllabic fatal, beetle (with /t/).

4.

Prosody and intonation

The BrC prosodic system’s interactive functions for turn-taking are studied by Local, Wells and Sebba (1985), who show that pitch characteristics of the final syllable of a syntactic unit help delimit turns in a way that contrasts with BrE. Prosody and intonation are treated in depth for JamC and BrC by Sutcliffe and Figueroa (1992: 107–124), who regard them as syllable-timed tone languages with two contrastive tones, downstep and upstep. English word stress is most often associated with low tone, rather than high, resulting in English monolinguals’ perception that stress is often oddly misplaced in BrC (they mistakenly interpret high pitch as stress). Sutcliffe records several cases where British-born speakers pointed explicitly to grammatical patterns differentiated by tone for his benefit. He outlines a number of patterns contrasting question types, consecutive verb constructions, relative clauses, conditionals and indicatives by consistent devices such as marked tones on subject pronoun and main verb. There is little doubt that such elements have carried over from JamC productively, and yet it is difficult to reconcile them with more assimilated aspects of BrC phonology, suggesting that not only is further research required, but fundamental alterations in the sound system of BrC may take place in rising generations. *

I thank David Sutcliffe for introducing me to the study of British Jamaican speech, and for discussion during the writing of this article; thanks also go to Michelle Straw and Pamela Knight, for allowing me to draw on their unpublished data and research, and contributing crucially to the fieldwork.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM.

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Beckford Wassink, Alicia 1999 A sociophonetic analysis of Jamaican vowels. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. Gilroy, Paul 1987 There Ain’t no Black in the Union Jack. London: Hutchinson. Knight, Pamela 2001 London/Jamaican in the speech of two subjects. B.A. thesis, Department of Language and Linguistics, University of Essex, Colchester. Labov, William 1972 The linguistic consequences of being a lame. Language in Society 2: 81–115. Local, John K., William H.G. Wells and Mark Sebba 1985 Phonology for conversation: phonetic aspects of turn delimitation in London Jamaican. Journal of Pragmatics 9: 309–330. Patrick, Peter L. 1995 The urbanization of Creole phonology: variation and change in Jamaican (KYA). In: Guy, Baugh, Feagin and Schiffrin (eds.), 329–355. 1997 Style and register in Jamaican Patwa. In: Schneider (ed.) 1997b, 41–56. Rosen, Harold and Tony Burgess 1980 Languages and Dialects of London School Children. London: Ward Lock Educational. Sivertsen, Eva 1960 Cockney Phonology. Oslo: Oslo University Press. Straw, Michelle 2001 Caribbeans in Ipswich – dialect contact and variation: a study of t-glottalisation. M.A. thesis, Department of Language and Linguistics, University of Essex, Colchester. Straw, Michelle and Peter L. Patrick forthcoming Dialect acquisition of glottal variation in /t/: Barbadians in Ipswich. In: Patrick Honeybone and Philip Carr (eds.), special issue of Language Sciences. Sutcliffe, David 1982 British Black English. Oxford: Blackwell. Sutcliffe, David and John Figueroa 1992 System in Black Language. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Tate, Shirley 1984 Jamaican Creole approximation by second generation Dominicans? The use of agreement tokens. M.A. thesis, Department of Language and Linguistics, University of York. Thomas, Erik R. 2001 An Acoustic Analysis of Vowel Variation in New World English. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Veatch, Thomas C. 1991 English vowels: their surface phonology and phonetic implementation in vernacular dialects. Ph.D. dissertation, Department of Linguistics, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia. Wells, John C. 1973 Jamaican Pronunciation in London. Oxford: Blackwell.

Introduction: varieties of English in the Americas and the Caribbean Edgar W. Schneider

1.

Introduction: One region?

Dealing with the Americas and the Caribbean jointly, in a single volume and chapter, is a decision that requires some discussion, perhaps justification. Of course, in a global geographical perspective it comes natural, focusing upon a continent that is separated from other world regions by the globe’s largest oceans on both sides. History also justifies such a perspective, with roughly similar population movements having occurred at similar times. All parts of the American continent were originally populated by Native Americans. After the “discovery” of the continent by Columbus and during the period of colonial expansion the indigenous tribes were subdued and cruelly decimated by European settlers, who, in turn, forced millions of Africans to be transported to the region, with the descendants of these, plus some smaller groups of later arrivals, making up for the major population segments. Close economic connections have prevailed to the present day, and substantial migration in both directions has occurred (and provided for mutual linguistic influences). On closer examination, however, there are of course also fundamental differences to be discerned in their economic, social, demographic and cultural make-up. North American settlers were attracted by the prospect of religious freedom and economic prosperity, while for a long time the Caribbean was not deliberately settled but rather exploited mainly as the site of the mass production of cash crops, most notably sugar cane, resulting in plantation societies which rested upon the infamous institution of slavery. Hence, while the descendants of Europeans predominate in North America, those of Africans constitute the majority throughout the Caribbean. Politically and socially, the Caribbean was much more fragmented and disputed by several European colonial powers, while on the North American continent the British secured their predominance (with the exception of remaining French enclaves and, around the Gulf of Mexico, Spanish traces and neighbors). Most importantly in the present, linguistic perspective, different settlement patterns have resulted in North American varieties of English being characterized by dialect transmission (with some degree of koinéization but also innovation) as against Caribbean forms of English being shaped by processes of creolization.

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2.

Historical background

Disregarding Sir Walter Raleigh’s late-fifteenth century “Lost Colony” of Roanoke, permanent English settlement in North America started early in the seventeenth century, and the fact that the earliest settler groups tended to be religious dissenters predominantly from southern parts of England has resulted in the fact that the dialects of the regions where they established their bridgeheads (1607: Jamestown, Virginia; 1620: the Pilgrim Fathers landing on Plymouth Rock in Massachusetts) have retained higher degrees of similarity to southern forms of British English. Later streams of settlers, migrating from landing sites in or near Pennsylvania into the interior North, the Midlands and the Upper South in search of new lands, brought their northern English or Scottish-derived forms of English and caused these to diffuse, thus giving them a particularly strong role in the evolution of distinctly American ways of speaking. The first two centuries of British settlement (and the French and Indian War of 1756–1763) secured English as the language of the Atlantic seaboard and beyond, the area occupied by the thirteen original colonies that declared their independence in 1776. As a consequence of relatively homogeneous settler groups and long-standing stability in this eastern region along the Atlantic coast, regional dialect differences have been found to be stronger there than further to the West. The Louisiana Purchase of 1803 opened up the continent for further exploration and settlement expansion throughout the nineteenth century, invigorated by the California Gold Rush after 1848 and the construction and completion (in 1869) of the transcontinental railway. Linguistically speaking, these processes resulted in even more dialect mixing and relatively higher degrees of linguistic homogeneity. At the same time, for centuries Africans had been brought to the South forcedly as slaves. Emancipation after the Civil War, in 1865, gave them freedom but did not prevent social segregation, which to some degree has persisted to the present day – developments which have resulted in and are reflected by the emergence and evolution of African American Vernacular English and Gullah and which in some respects may be taken to have resulted in a linguistic bridge between inland varieties and the Caribbean. In Canada, the British possession of Newfoundland dates back to the 16th century, caused it to be settled by people from Ireland and southwestern England, and has left a distinctive dialect there. On the other hand, Canadian English in general is said to have been characterized by a tension between its British roots (reinforced by loyalists who opted for living in Canada after America’s independence) and the continuous linguistic and cultural pressure (or attractiveness, for that matter) exerted by its big southern neighbor. Furthermore, varieties of American English comprise accents forged by immigrant groups from a host of countries of origin, including southern and eastern Europeans, Asians, and South and Central Americans: Today, the most important of these are certainly the forms of English created by contact with Mexican Spanish.

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In the Caribbean, the British entered the stage more than a century after the Spanish had established themselves; and the struggle for superiority and influence between these two and a few more European powers (most importantly, the French and the Dutch) shaped the ragged history of the region for centuries. The agents of these struggles were not primarily settlers but buccaneers, planters, and slaves, and many islands changed hands repeatedly (31 times, it is reported, in the case of Tobago). Such political turnovers and other activities resulted in high rates of cross-migration and mutual influences, also linguistically (Holm 1983). The earliest British possessions in the region were St. Kitts (1624; said to have been highly influential in the shaping and dispersal of Caribbean language forms: Baker and Bruyn 1998) and Barbados (1627). Jamaica, the largest and most important stronghold of Caribbean English (and Creole), became British in 1655. Suriname, located on the South American continent but culturally a part of the Caribbean in many ways, presents an exceptional and also linguistically extraordinary case: An English colony for only 16 years (from 1651 to 1657, when it was exchanged for New Amsterdam, which thus became New York), it has retained the Englishrelated creole of its founder years, now called Sranan, and its maroon descendant forms of the interior to the present day, thus being the site of the most conservative and radical creoles in the region. In Trinidad, English and English-based creole replaced French creole only in the course of the nineteenth century. Finally, various historical incidents (minor settlement migrations, like from the Caymans to the Bay Islands of Honduras; logwood cutting, buccaneering and even shipwrecks in Belize and Nicaragua; economic activities, like railroad construction in Costa Rica and the building of the canal in Panama) established pockets of English creoles throughout central America.

3.

Research coverage and main topics of investigations

All of these processes have resulted in a diverse range of varieties of English, which have attracted the attention of observers and scholars for centuries. Early accounts tended to be anecdotal records or short literary representations by native users or outside observers (except for sketchy dictionaries and grammars produced by missionaries, notably for Sranan, which is therefore historically uniquely well researched). Serious and systematic scholarly investigation of these varieties began with the launching of dialect geography in North America in the late 1920s. As a consequence, regional varieties of American English (as well as some degree of social variation), based upon data from the 1930s to the 1970s, are thoroughly documented by a series of regional atlas projects, most importantly the Linguistic Atlas of New England (Kurath 1939–43), the Linguistic Atlas of the Middle and South Atlantic States, directed first by Kurath, then by Raven McDavid, and now by William Kretzschmar (Kretzschmar 1994; see the web site with data for download-

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ing at ) and the Linguistic Atlas of the Gulf States (Pederson et al. 1986-92), along with several others (see Davis 1983 for a survey). These projects were analyzed in several studies, three of which, covering the levels of vocabulary, morphology and pronunciation, respectively, count as classics, having established the conventional division of American English into three main regions – North, Midland, and South (Kurath 1949; Atwood 1953; Kurath and McDavid 1961). Carver (1987) later challenged this division and proposed to consider the northern Midlands and southern Midlands as divisions of extended North and South regions, respectively – a recategorization which is less dramatic than it might look at first sight. Since the 1990s the second major project of investigating the regional dialects of all of the US, Labov’s Telsur survey, has been under way; it looks into phonological differences and analyses ongoing sound changes (Labov, Ash and Boberg fc.). This project has grown out of the second major discipline that has investigated variation within and varieties of American English, sociolinguistics, founded by Labov in the 1960s (Labov 1966, 1972). Employing conversational interviews and quantitative techniques of analysis, sociolinguists have investigated patterns of variation and change in many different cities and communities (Chambers 2003), including, most importantly, African American Vernacular English (AAVE) and, in recent years, dialect enclaves. The 1960s also saw the growth of creole studies as a distinct paradigm of linguistic investigation, with many of its early classics being concerned with the English-based creoles of Jamaica (Bailey 1966) and Guyana (Bickerton 1975; Rickford 1987). In addition to many important book-length studies of individual varieties (listed in the general bibliography and referred to in the individual articles of this book), many collective volumes, reflecting a variety of research activities, have been published, including Williamson and Burke (1971), Allen and Underwood (1971), Allen and Linn (1997), Preston (1993) and Schneider (1996) on North American varieties in general, Montgomery and Bailey (1986), Bernstein, Nunnally and Sabino (1997), Montgomery and Nunnally (1998) and Nagle and Sanders (2003) on Southern English, Frazer (1993) on the Midwest, as well as Carrington, Craig and Dandare (1983), Christie (1998), several volumes of the “Creole Language Library” series published by Benjamins, and, most recently, Aceto and Williams (2003) on Caribbean creoles and dialects. Schneider (1996a), in a volume that uniquely unites dialectologists, sociolinguists and creolists, surveys ongoing research activities on North American Englishes, both quantitatively and qualitatively. Updating and supplementing these observations a little, we can observe the following major trends of ongoing research: – computational and statistical procedures applied to dialect atlas data (Kretzschmar and Schneider 1996 and other work by Kretzschmar and, more recently, John Nerbonne); – the study of variation and change of specific variables in select communities (for broad surveys, see Chambers 2003; Chambers, Trudgill and Schilling-Estes 2002), in particular

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– investigations of enclave communities and their trajectories of change (Wolfram, Hazen and Schilling-Estes 1999 and other work by Wolfram and associates in North Carolina, and work by Cukor-Avila in Texas); – investigations of ongoing sound changes in AmE (work by Labov and associates, most notably Labov 1994; Labov, Ash and Boberg fc.; Gordon 2001; Thomas 2001); – investigations of ethnolinguistic differences, in particular cultural and pedagogical implications of the uses of AAVE (Mufwene et al. 1998; Rickford 1999; Lanehart 2001); – historical investigations of regional varieties (in particular, Southern English: Nagle and Sanders 2003); – improved diachronic documentation and interpretation of pertinent sources on the history of AAVE (Schneider 1989; Bailey, Maynor and Cukor-Avila 1991; Poplack 2000; Poplack and Tagliamonte 2001; Kautzsch 2002; Wolfram and Thomas 2002). In a similar vein, it is also possible to survey the major research fashions, recurrent themes and basic concerns, in the investigation of the Caribbean English creoles. These include the following: – the genesis of creoles (the perennial issue of universalism vs. substratism; cf. Alleyne 1980; Bickerton 1981; Muysken and Smith 1986) and the diffusion of creole forms (Huber and Parkvall 1999; Baker and Huber 2001) – a search for historical documentation of earlier stages of Caribbean creoles (to provide improved empirical evidence for the aforementioned discussion; cf. for Jamaica D’Costa and Lalla 1989; for Guyana Rickford 1987; for Barbados Rickford and Handler 1994) – acceptance of the fact that creoles come in different “degrees of creoleness”, i.e. that differences between “deep / radical” creoles on the one hand and “lighter” creoles with few basilectal features, sometimes called “semi-creoles” or “creoloids”, exist and blur the very category of “creole languages” (Schneider 1990; Neumann-Holzschuh and Schneider 2000; Holm 2004), and increased emphasis on the importance of mesolects (Patrick 1999); – consequently, the questioning of the distinctness of creoles as a language type altogether, thus regarding them as varieties of their lexifiers rather than distinct languages (Mufwene 2001; but cf. McWhorter 1998, 2000) and ultimately the recognition of language contact as the appropriate overarching topic and field of study (Thomason and Kaufman 1988; Thomason 2001; Myers-Scotton 2002; Winford 2003) – increased emphasis on empirical documentations, primarily with respect to relatively “minor”, hitherto underinvestigated varieties (Aceto and Williams 2003; James and Youssef 2002) but also in association with typological and sociolinguistic thinking (e.g. Winford 1993; Hackert 2004).

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– the emergence of an increasingly positive attitude toward creoles in public discourse, recognized as carriers of regional identities and gradually encroaching into the public domain (Shields-Brodber 1997; Mühleisen 2002).

4.

Parameters of variation by language levels

The varieties of English in the Americas, like everywhere else, correlate with the parameters of region, social class, and style, and in most cases it is impossible to draw clear-cut, qualitative distinctions. Typically, select features tend to occur more frequently in certain varieties than in others; hardly ever are there any uncontroversial shibboleths to be observed (for instance, even the prototypically Southern pronoun y’all has been shown to be spreading outside of the South; Tillery, Wikle and Bailey 2000). Nevertheless, it is possible to state some broad tendencies which as such are of interest. Broadly speaking, phonology tends to vary regionally while grammar varies socially in the first place. Pronunciation differences delimitate dialect regions of North American English most clearly and consistently, and the contributors to the pronunciation papers point out local, regional and supraregional phonological or phonetic features. Of course, accents go by social class as well, but the standard assumption for American English is that even educated speakers, from certain regions at least (most notably New England and the South), at times use regional pronunciation characteristics and thus speak “with an accent”; hence, despite the persistent belief in a homogeneous “General American” accent or notions like “network English” there is in fact no single American norm of pronunciation that corresponds to RP in England, being a non-regional class dialect. (Kretzschmar, in this volume, defines a “Standard American English” as an accent deliberately held free of features associated with particular regions.) In contrast, the phonologies of Caribbean varieties of English are underresearched – the strong focus of the discipline upon creole genesis, reflected in the grammar of creoles, has made this a Cinderella of creole studies (Plag 2003 deliberately sets out to remedy this situation). Clearly there are both supra-regional features and tendencies and regional or local forms of pronunciation, but no systematic survey of such similarities or differences is available to date. Unlike phonology, in North American English grammatical variation is primarily socially determined. This is perhaps less true for nonstandard morphology (like irregular nonstandard verb forms or noun plurals), where dialectological research has identified some regional correlations (Atwood 1953), and a small number of minor syntactic patterns may be pinned down to specific regions; but basically using nonstandard grammar betrays a speaker’s social class background, not his or her regional whereabouts. Many of these patterns (like multiple negation, left dislocation, or intonation-marked but uninverted questions) are not even distinctly

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American but constitute elements of informal English, presumably British-derived, in many countries around the globe. Quantitative distinctions from one dialect to another exist in America (i.e. some features occur more frequently in certain regions or contexts than others), but basically it is the particular configuration, the specific sub-set of such forms and patterns available in a given region or community, that identifies and distinguishes individual varieties of North American English. This particular aspect, the uniqueness of the mixture of forms at a given location rather than a diagnostic role of any individual variant, can be stated for the Caribbean situation as well, although the creole continua found there provide for quite different, and certainly no less complex, linguistic ecologies. As is well known, creole grammars are characterized first and foremost by the use of preverbal markers for categories of tense, mood and aspect, in addition to several other “characteristically creole” features (e.g. specific copula uses, the functional conflation of pronoun forms, or serial verb constructions), while, conversely, they display very little inflectional morphology on verbs, nouns, or other word classes. Some of these forms characterize certain sub-regions (most importantly, a few forms appear to mark off the eastern as against the western Caribbean), but the most important parameter of variation here is the class and style stratification that is captured by the notion of a creole (or “post-creole”) continuum, the systematic variation between acrolectal (or near-standard), mesolectal and basilectal (“deep creole”) choices. Bickerton (1975), following deCamp (1971), described this variation as “implicational scales”, with both lects (distinct “grammars”) and their features arranged in such a tabular format that the presence of certain forms in certain lects predicts the presence of all other “more basilectal” forms in all other “more basilectal” lects. On the other hand, several aspects of this model have been challenged in recent years, including its monodimensionality and its diachronic implications (the assumption that creoles started out as basilects and have “decreolized”, i.e. exchanged basilectal creole forms by corresponding acrolectal English forms, in the course of time). In fact, the scholarly concentration upon the putatively pure, basilectal creole has led to the paradoxical situation that basilects are at the center of creole studies even if no one has ever documented a pure basilectal creole, while mesolects, the forms that are really in use, have only recently begun to be the objects of scrupulous investigation (Patrick 1999). Words, finally, vary readily and mostly by region, with the range of their spread extending from the strictly local through the regional to the quasi-national domain. Variation in the lexicon is considerably more resistent to systematic investigation – which is why the contributions to this handbook project cover regional vocabulary only incidentally or not at all. Regional lexicography identifies the ranges and conditions of the uses of individual words (Kurath 1949; Carver 1987), and in the present context the main dictionaries to be consulted are the Dictionary of American Regional English for North America (Cassidy et al. 1985-) and the Dictionary of Caribbean Usage (Allsopp 1996) for the Caribbean.

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5.

Chapters selected for this handbook

The general considerations outlined above, in particular with respect to the existence of distinct dialectal forms, have guided the selection of individual varieties for coverage in this handbook. Their arrangement roughly follows geographical and historical patterns, with the US and Canada followed by the Caribbean and varieties being strung together according to their geographical proximity (moving from north to south and east to west in most instances) and their historical patterns of diffusion. The first part covers phonological variation. For American English, Kretzschmar’s paper describes a baseline “Standard” variety, devoid of distinctly regional traces; this is followed by papers which focus upon the most distinctive regional varieties: New England (Nagy and Roberts), the staging cities of the East Coast and the urban dialects of the interior North, including the ongoing change known as the “Northern Cities Shift” (Gordon), the South (with Thomas documenting the richness of rural Southern pronunciations and Tillery and Bailey discussing ongoing changes in the wake of urbanization), and the West and Midwest (Gordon, again). Boberg covers Canadian English, and Clarke describes the Newfoundland dialects. Ethnic varieties of AmE include AAVE (Edwards), Gullah (Weldon), Cajun Vernacular English (Dubois and Horvath), and Chicano English (Santa Ana and Bailey). In the Caribbean, the varieties represented are the Bahamas (Childs and Wolfram), Jamaica (with Devonish and Harry describing both English and Creole), smaller islands of the Eastern Caribbean (Aceto), Barbados (Blake), Trinidad and Tobago (Youssef and James), and Suriname (Smith and Haabo). The morphosyntax part also starts with a baseline paper, covering structural phenomena which occur widely in colloquial AmE (Murray and Simon). Regionally distinctive grammatical variation in North America has been investigated in a small number of salient locations, including the Appalachians (presented in the chapter by Montgomery), enclave communities in the Southeast (discussed by Wolfram), and Newfoundland (documented by Clarke). The primary topics of grammatical research have been ethnic varieties, most notably AAVE (its urban form, discussed by Wolfram; its historical evolution, described by Kautzsch; and the extant creole form of Gullah, studied by Mufwene), but also Chicano English (see the chapter by Bayley and Santa Ana). For the Caribbean, on the other hand, regional differences from one island or region to another are obvious enough to justify such an arrangement, so there are papers on the Bahamas (Reaser and Torbert), Jamaica (Patrick), eastern islands (Aceto), Trinidad and Tobago (James and Youssef), Suriname (Winford and Migge), as well as Central America with special emphasis on Belize (Escure). Coverage of Barbadian Creole (Bajan) and Guyanese Creole would have been desirable, but, regrettably, papers commissioned on these topics failed to materialize. Every selection of this kind requires decisions and categorizations, of course; I trust that the decisions made reflect the directions and intensity of ongoing re-

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search activities. This applies in the few cases where the commissioned papers for phonology and grammar do not match, for instance: Investigations of Cajun English have taught us much about the dialect’s phonology but little about its grammar; conversely, an extensive debate on the emergence of AAVE has been concerned with grammar almost exclusively; and many writings on Caribbean creoles have discussed grammatical but not primarily phonological features (hence the coverage of Belize plus Central America, focussing on grammar only). Of course, other considerations also applied, including space restrictions and the amount of existing research documentation: a handbook survey like the present one requires a certain degree of comprehensiveness and systematicity of earlier investigations of specific varieties, which is not available in many cases. It would have been very interesting to include papers on native American or Asian forms of English, for instance, but publications and research on these dialects have been eclectic so far; a great many facts are either unknown or assumed to be largely similar to “mainstream” forms of AmE. Space constraints and the fact that our project set out to describe “major” varieties exclude strictly local dialects, like, for example, those spoken by the Texas Seminoles in Bracketville (Hancock 1980), on small islands like the Caymans (Washabaugh 1983), or in the city of Americana, Brazil (Montgomery and Melo 1990). The same applies to Falkland Islands English (Sudbury 2001) and, of geographically uncertain association with any continent, the dialect of Tristan da Cunha – well documented and interesting in the light of dialect contact (Schreier 2002, 2003) but spoken by less than three hundred people. Finally Hawai’i, even if politically a part of the US, is discussed in the Pacific (and Australian) part of this handbook, in line with its geographical location.

Selected references Baker, Philip, and Magnus Huber 2001 Atlantic, Pacific, and world-wide features in English-lexicon contact languages. English World-Wide 22: 157–208. deCamp, David 1971 Toward a generative analysis of a post-creole speech continuum. In: Hymes (ed.), 349–370. Hancock, Ian 1980 The Texas Seminoles and Their Language. Austin: University of Texas. Holm, John 1983 The spread of English in the Caribbean area. In: Görlach and Holm (eds.), 1–22. 2004 Languages in Contact. The Partial Restructuring of Vernaculars. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. McWhorter, John 1998 Identifying the Creole prototype: vindicating a typological class. Language 74: 788–818.

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2000a Defining ‘creole’ as a synchronic term. In: Neumann-Holzschuh and Schneider (eds.), 85–123 Montgomery, Michael, and Cecil Ataide Melo 1990 The phonology of the lost cause: The English of the Confederados in Brazil. English World-Wide 11:195–216. Rickford, John, and Jerome Handler 1994 Textual evidence on the nature of early Barbadian speech, 1676–1835. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 9: 221–255. Schneider, Edgar W. 1990 The cline of creoleness in English-oriented creoles and semi-creoles of the Caribbean. English World-Wide 11: 79–113. 1996a Introduction: Research trends in the study of American English. In: Schneider (ed.), 1–12. Schreier, Daniel 2002 Terra incognita in the anglophone world: Tristan da Cunha, South Atlantic Ocean. English World-Wide 23: 1–29. 2003 Isolation and Language Change: Contemporary and Sociohistorical Evidence from Tristan da Cunha English. Houndsmills, New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Shields-Brodber, Kathryn 1997 Requiem for English in an “English-speaking” community: The case of Jamaica. In: Schneider (ed.), 57–67. Sudbury, Andrea 2001 Falkland Islands English: a southern hemisphere variety? English World-Wide 22: 55–80. Tillery, Jan, TomWikle, and Guy Bailey 2000 The nationalization of a Southernism. Journal of English Linguistics 28: 280– 294. Washabaugh, William 1983 Creoles of the off-shore islands: Providencia, San Andrés and the Caymans. In: Holm (ed.), 157–179.

Standard American English pronunciation William A. Kretzschmar, Jr.

1.

Introduction

The idea that there should be a “standard” form of a language is a relatively recent development in western culture, at least in the way that “standard” is usually understood in this usage today. People seem always to have noticed language variation, for instance the shibboleth story in the Bible about recognition of spies, and the uses of language variation for more comic effect by Greek and Roman dramatists. However, our modern sense of a “standard language” emerged only during the Neo-Classical period, during the seventeenth century in parts of Europe (as for the Encyclopedists in France) and during the eighteenth century in England. The first citation for the collocation standard English in the Oxford English Dictionary comes even later, from the nineteenth century. The word standard possesses a set of meanings related to criteria for measurement. The original fifteenth-century literal sense of objects, such as standard weights used to compare to working scale weights to enable fair commercial transactions, still survives, but today more emphasis falls on attributive or metaphoric senses in which there is comparative measurement of qualities. In actual use in American English as demonstrated in corpus evidence, standard(s) most frequently refers to a general level of quality, not to a particular authoritative statement of criteria for evaluation. The attributive use of the word in the collocation Standard English may therefore raise the expectation for some people that there must be a perfect and exemplary state of the language, just as there are perfect exemplars for a one-ounce weight or for a measure of length such as a yardstick. The way that most people interpret the collocation, however, will be as a general level of quality. Thus Standard English may be taken to reflect conformance to a set of rules, but its meaning commonly gets bound up with social ideas about how one’s character and education are displayed in one’s speech. The term “General American” is sometimes used by those who expect for there to be a perfect and exemplary state of American English (see below). However, in this essay the term “Standard American English” (StAmE) is preferred; it designates the level of quality (here of pronunciation) that is employed by educated speakers in formal settings. StAmE pronunciation differs from region to region, even from person to person, because speakers from different circumstances in and different parts of the United States commonly employ regional and social features to some extent even in formal situations.

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2.

Demographics and education in the development of a standard

The American attitude towards StAmE developed from two different forces, demographics and public education. 2.1.

Colonial settlement

The first settlement of America occurred in the seventeenth century within the different original colonial hearth areas (see Kretzschmar 2002 for a more detailed treatment of what follows). Travel was difficult enough so that the separate colonies developed cultural differences early on, including linguistic differences. No colony was settled exclusively from any single region of England; early settlers in every colony came from a variety of areas in England, and thus brought with them various regional English speech characteristics. Kretzschmar (1996) suggests on the basis of dialect evidence that the word stock of the different colonies was largely shared, but preserved differently in each place; in similar fashion, pronunciations characteristic of different parts of England were available in every colony. Out of the pool of language characteristics available in each colony there emerged, within a few generations, the particular set of features that would form the characteristic speech of the colony. No colony sounded too much like any particular area of England because of the mixture of settlers, and for the same reason the different American colonies sounded more similar to each other than to the speech of the old country. At the end of the seventeenth century settlers began to arrive in larger numbers from non-English-speaking places in Europe and Africa, but by then English was well established in most areas of the colonies by the English founder population (for this term see Mufwene 2001), and the later arrivals needed to fit themselves into English-speaking communities. The new settlers brought their own language characteristics, and some of these later became established in the speech of the communities that they entered. Of course there were also Native Americans in the colonies before the English founders and features from their languages did and do survive, particularly place names and the names for the flora and fauna of the New World (see Marckwardt 1960 for contributions from various languages to American English, particularly the lexicon). The first standardizing effect to be seen in the colonies, then, was the establishment of English as a common community language, out of the welter of languages spoken by the Native Americans and the different settlers. The appearance of a new American English, relatively shared between the colonies when viewed in comparison with the different British regional varieties of the time, does not come from the imposition of a standard, or from the recovery of some basic, essential variety of English from which the British dialects had diverged, but instead from the demographic conditions – mixed settlement – of the founding population that formed communities in each colony. The new American English was also not the

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same as the emerging standard for English in Britain (see Upton, this volume), and was criticized on those grounds at the time, as for example by John Witherspoon, the first president of Princeton University (Mathews 1931). At the same time, American English and the need of new settlers to learn it became a hallmark of the American experience, part of the voluntary social movement that Crevecoeur (1782) described in “What is an American.” Along with the formation of new political and social practices in the new American communities came a new commitment to public education. So-called “common schools” were created throughout the states, more quickly and completely in the North but also in the agrarian South. The one-room schoolhouse became an icon of American community action, and whenever the population and resources became dense enough, more elaborate “graded” schools and academies sprang up as well. Basic education in reading and writing began to have an effect on American English from the beginning. 2.2.

Westward expansion and urbanization

As the United States expanded, the speech habits of the hearth colonies were carried along with the settlers. Settlement generally proceeded from east to west, and so the influence of colonial speech was carried from east to west. Kretzschmar (1996) shows that the linguistic characteristics of several eastern inland towns are most similar to the characteristics of the coastal cities directly to their east. This fact is not a result of influence of an emerging standard language, but instead a consequence of the economic dominance of the coastal cities over the hinterlands (see McDavid 1948), again a matter of demographics. The younger sons and daughters of the population that occupied the coast moved west in search of more land and opportunity, and they carried their speech with them. New immigrants also often spent time in coastal embarkation areas before they moved west to the frontier (see, e.g., the story of Andrew the Hebridean in Crevecoeur 1782), and so began to acquire American English from established colonial models on the coast. Inland speech, however, was never exactly the same as the speech of coastal cities, because the effects of population mixture, and thus the creation of and selection from a pool of linguistic features, operated inland as it had on the coast. Coastal cities did become wealthy, and so did develop a social hierarchy which allowed for the emergence of sociolinguistic differences. McDavid (1948) carefully separates the loss of postvocalic r in Charleston (which is associated with demographic factors) from nonstandard verb forms and other features that mark socially dispreferred speech. In America just as in England, increasingly during the eighteenth century the notion of a standard began to be associated with social status, so that Swift, Johnson, and other highly cultivated authors came to prefer the usage of the “best” authors over the common parlance. Such preferences became entrenched in the first prominent English grammars, like those by Lowth

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and Murray. The same attitude is expressed by Anne Royall, a social columnist who often wrote about—pilloried—varieties of American pronunciation that she did not find to be socially acceptable (Mathews 1931). The continuing prevalence of public education extended the influence of such grammars, including Webster’s in America, and thus social preferences in speech became teaching standards. A prime example is the influence of Webster’s “blue-backed speller”, which became one of the most successful textbooks of all time through wide use in American public schools. It thereby succeeded in the creation of particular American habits of spelling (e.g. –er instead of –re, -or instead of –our, and so forth), and a particular American habit of spelling pronunciation, i.e. of attempting to pronounce a sound for every letter in the spelling of a word. The American educational system abetted the social hierarchy in the maintenance of qualitative linguistic preferences by the creation and promulgation of rules of grammar, spelling, and other matters of linguistic propriety. The prevalence of common schools ensured that the emerging idea of a linguistic standard was widely accepted, but it is also the case that citizens with the means to obtain better educational opportunities for their children, or to allow their children to spend more time in the educational system rather than going to work at an early age, were better able to enact the standards in their own speech. Thus was created a cycle that still operates today for the establishment and maintenance of language standards in linkage to the social hierarchy. Continuing westward settlement in the nineteenth century followed essentially the same patterns, but the connection with eastern colonial speech ways became more diffuse the further west the frontier. West of the Mississippi River, settlement is still not dense enough and is still too recent to have allowed for very extensive development of the local speech patterns characteristic of eastern areas. Continuing urbanization added more ethnic neighborhoods, but again the essential pattern remained the same. Each of the main regional variants of American English – Northern, Midland, and Southern, as described by Kurath (1949) and Kurath and McDavid (1961) – had its own linguistic characteristics, and each region had its own socially preferred models of pronunciation prevalent among the socially prominent and more educated population. 2.3.

Twentieth-century changes

The twentieth century brought different demographic movements and associated linguistic change. Initial settlement of the western part of the country by homesteading was essentially complete, and demographic change then occurred by internal migration. In the first half of the century Southerners both black and white left the untenable agricultural conditions of their region and looked for new opportunities in the North and West. In the second half of the century Northerners sometimes moved away from the Rust Belt in search of opportunities in emerging industries in the South. These population movements often created speech islands

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in the regions to which the migrants traveled, such as African American or Southern White neighborhoods in Northern cities. The greater change, however, stemmed from an essential change in the urban demographic pattern from residential neighborhoods within cities to the model of an urban core surrounded by suburbs. Suburban housing changed the essential interactions of the community, because people no longer lived with the people they worked with: in sociolinguistic terms, suburban social networks often became characterized by weak ties (i.e., the density and multiplexity of linguistic interactions decreased; see, e.g., J. Milroy (1992) for discussion of social network issues). In addition, because American suburban housing has most often been economically stratified, the social networks that did develop were more likely to be class-bound, unlike the situation in older cities where there was more mingling on a daily basis between people of different economic registers. At the same time that suburban residential patterns were developing, improvements in transportation (highways, airlines) created a super-regional marketplace for the highly educated. While the American population has always been mobile, the most highly educated segment of the population has become nationally mobile to a much greater extent than the working and lower-middle class population, which tends to move around locally, often within the same metropolitan area or the same state. This change has led to the growth of the notion that highly educated speech should not show evidence of regional affiliation. Highly educated speakers in formal settings tend to suppress their regional features (to the extent that they have them in the first place, owing to suburban housing patterns; see Milroy and Milroy (1999) for the idea of suppression of variation). The typical speech of national news broadcasters is symptomatic – not a cause of the change, as many suppose. The contemporary situation for StAmE pronunciation, then, is that the most highly educated speakers in formal settings tend to suppress any linguistic features that they recognize as marked, i.e., regionally or socially identifiable. Many educated speakers therefore think that language variation in America is decreasing. On the other hand, the economically-stratified suburban residential pattern promotes the continued existence, even expansion of local varieties (cf. Labov and Ash 1997: 508), though perhaps varieties with fewer strongly marked characteristics than were maintained before in the previous era of stronger, denser ties in social networks. American English, paradoxically, in some ways has more local variation than ever before, at the same time that in other ways it has less variation than before. The linkage between demographic trends and education remains the central fact for any discussion of standards in American English: those with the resources to proceed the furthest in the educational system have the greatest commitment to and investment in the idea of linguistic standards, now expressed particularly through their suppression of marked regional and social characteristics, while those with fewer resources and less investment in the educational sys-

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tem generally accept the idea of formal educational standards but do not routinely enact them in their own linguistic behavior. That said, it is of course true that many educated speakers value their regional affiliations and refuse to suppress, or even take pride in the display of, their regional speech characteristics, while some speakers without a high level of educational achievement may choose to suppress their regional features. 2.4.

“General American”

The term “General American” arose as a name for a presumed most common or “default” form of American English, especially to be distinguished from marked regional speech of New England or the South. “General American” has often been considered to be the relatively unmarked speech of “the Midwest”, a vague designation for anywhere in the vast midsection of the country from Ohio west to Nebraska, and from the Canadian border as far south as Missouri or Kansas. No historical justification for this term exists, and neither do present circumstances support its use. While population mixture did make the different colonial varieties of American English more similar to each other than to any form of old-world British English, and there remain some relatively common pronunciation (and other) features that continue to justify use of the term “American English” in opposition to other national terms for English varieties, there has never been any single best or default form of American English that might form the basis for “General American”. Take for example the state of Ohio, often seen as a model for “General American”: the state is divided by Kurath’s major Northern/Midland dialect boundary, and Labov’s more recent Telsur field work yields a map in which no fewer than five boundaries crisscross the state (Labov, Ash and Boberg fc.). Even Ohio’s educated speakers, speaking in formal settings, tend to make different pronunciation choices. For example, Cleveland speakers might routinely pronounce a common word like on as [An], while the speakers from Columbus might routinely pronounce the word as [çn]. No particular notice of the difference would be taken, because these pronunciations are not marked regional or social variants; neither pronunciation needs to be suppressed in order to achieve a StAmE level of quality. Thus a term like “General American” does not represent the condition of American English with respect either to StAmE or to regional and social varieties, because it implies that there is some exemplary state of American English from which other varieties deviate. On the contrary, StAmE can best be characterized as what is left over after speakers suppress the regional and social features that have risen to salience and become noticeable. Decisions about which features are perceived to be salient will be different in every region, even different for every speaker, depending on local speech habits and the capacity of speakers to recognize particular features out of their varied linguistic experience. Some speakers are better than others at

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suppression of regional features, and some listeners are more subtle than others at detection of non-local features. The result of such decisions and perceptions is a linguistic continuum for American English in which no region or social group has pride of place (except for Southern American English, which is commonly singled out as a dispreferred variety by speakers from other regions), and a relative level of quality for StAmE that varies from place to place and person to person. When speakers travel outside of their native region, aspects of their pronunciation that are perfectly standard at home can be recognized by local speakers as being out of conformance with local StAmE preferences. This is just as true when Northerners travel South as when Southerners travel North, and people recognized as outsiders because of their speech must face the social consequences. 3.

StAmE pronunciation

The model for StAmE pronunciation presented here is composed of features that most highly educated speakers would not recognize as regionally or socially identifiable. For application of the model to particular words, the Oxford Dictionary of Pronunciation for Current English (ODP; Upton, Kretzschmar and Konopka 2001) will be a useful reference. ODP features both British and American English transcriptions for comparison by readers, and offers many phonotactic (but not recognizably regional or social) variants. To these features may be added those characteristics that commonly occur in educated speech in different regions of the country, generally unnoticed and preferred by educated speakers within the region but often noticed and sometimes stigmatized by educated speakers from other regions. Table 1 lists general features first (“unmarked”), and some regional standard features in a second group (“marked”). Table 1.

Unmarked and marked vowel pronunciation (lexical sets)

word

unmarked pronunciation

KIT

marked pronunciation

word

unmarked pronunciation

I

CHOICE

çI

DRESS

E

MOUTH

aU

TRAP

Q

NEAR

i‘, I‘

LOT

A

SQUARE

E‘

STRUT

√

MARRY

E

FOOT

U

MERRY

E

BATH

Q

MARY

E

ç

a

marked pronunciation

QU

Q

e

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Table 1. (continued)

Unmarked and marked vowel pronunciation (lexical sets)

word

unmarked pronunciation

CLOTH

ç, A

NURSE

‘

FLEECE

marked pronunciation

word

unmarked pronunciation

START

A‘

NORTH

ç‘

i

FORCE

ç‘

o‘

FACE

eI

ORANGE

ç

A, o

PALM

A

CURE

jU‘

happY

i

Œ

ç

THOUGHT ç, A GOAT

oU

lettER

‘

GOAL

oU

horsES

´, i

GOOSE

u

commA

´

PRICE

AI

3.1.

marked pronunciation

I

StAmE phonological patterns

Kurath and McDavid (1961) distinguished four different phonological patterns for cultivated speakers of American English in the Atlantic States: I: Upstate New York, Eastern Pennsylvania, and the South Midland; II: Metropolitan New York, the Upper South, and the Lower South; III: Eastern New England; and IV: Western Pennsylvania. All of these sets held the high and central front vowels and the high back vowels in common /i, I; eI, E; Q; u, U/, with some variation in the low vowels. The same patterns exist today, with the American West generally following the pattern Kurath and McDavid described for Western Pennsylvania. Discussion of three ongoing sound changes by Labov (1981, 1991, 1994), called the Northern Cities Shift, the Southern Shift, and Western Merger (for details see the sections elsewhere in this volume that report on these regions), has focused on working and lower-middle class speakers, and so it is difficult to estimate the extent to which these changes have penetrated StAmE. KIT, DRESS, TRAP

These so-called “checked” vowels are not invariant in StAmE, although they are usually represented as such. They may be realized with glides or extra length by different speakers. More prominent use of glides, sometimes with changes in vowel height as well, may be recognized as part of Labov’s Southern Shift.

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LOT, CLOTH, PALM, THOUGHT

The low-back vowels are historically unstable in StAmE. The /A~ç/ merger is said by Labov to be characteristic of the speech of the West, but instability in these vowels also characterizes Eastern New England (in which one also hears fronted pronunciations, as [a]) and Western Pennsylvania. “Merger” may be too strong a term here; there is some evidence that words historically with /A/ retain it in some areas (so that a pronunciation with [ç] might be recognized as “different”), while words historically with /ç/ more freely show alternation within the /A~ç/ range. The [ç] pronunciation in palm may be related to the American spelling pronunciation that inserts unhistorical [l], to yield [pAm, pçlm]. ODP represents words of the historical /A/ class with [A], and words of the historical /ç/ class with both sounds [A, ç]. STRUT, FOOT

StAmE does not share the British tendency to raise the vowel of strut towards [U] (this vowel is represented with [´] in ODP). However, StAmE has a long history of alternation of the vowel in roof, root (but not foot) as [u, U], with the short vowel more common in the North. The same is true, through with [u] in the North and [U] in the South, for coop. Route is another word with alternation, this time commonly between [u] and [aU]. These alternations do not apply across the entire word class of [U] words, although there is some evidence that there used to be more words that showed the alternation (e.g. gums). BATH

New England preserves the [a] pronunciation in words of the half, glass class, and has [A] in aunt. These pronunciations are sometimes heard from educated speakers in other regions of the country, possibly as a consequence of the historical importance of New England in American education. NURSE

Loss of postvocalic r is receding in StAmE, even in its historical urban strongholds in Boston, New York, and the plantation South. One is most likely to hear r-less pronunciations from older educated speakers from these regions, while younger speakers commonly employ pronunciations with r. That said, it has always been true that a wide range of realizations of r after vowels has been and still is employed, even in StAmE, ranging from fully constricted [r] to different levels of constriction (so-called “r-coloring”) to compensatory lengthening of the vowel to vocalization of the r to create a diphthong. Pronunciations similar to [nçIs], which used to qualify as StAmE in New York, Charleston, and New Orleans, are now stigmatized, as in the pronunciation of the cartoon character Bugs Bunny.

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FLEECE, FACE, GOAT, GOAL

These long vowels differ characteristically by environment in StAmE: they are longest and most likely to be diphthongal before juncture, next most likely to be long and/or diphthongal before voiced consonants, and most likely to be realized without added length and without glides before unvoiced consonants. Thus in word sets like the following there may be graded variation in the vowel: flee, feed, I I U fleece [flIi, f id, flis]; fay, fade, face [feI, fe d, fes]; go, goad, goat [goU, go d, got]. Monophthongized variants in all environments are characteristic of educated speakers from the Upper Midwest. GOOSE

This high back vowel has a relatively wide range of realizations in StAmE, from somewhat lowered pronunciations more likely in the North, such as [gUs], to fully raised and fronted realizations in the South, such as [gYs]. Still, words of the goose class are not recognized as having regular alternants like root, roof, route (for which see above, under strut, foot). PRICE, CHOICE

Educated speakers in the South commonly pronounce these vowels with weakened glides. The pronunciations are affected by environment: /aI/ is more likely to show glide reduction before voiced consonants, as in possible graded variation I in the series rye, rice, ride [raI, ra s, rad]. /çI/ is more likely to show reduction before [l], as in boil, oil. MOUTH

This diphthong has a long history of pronunciation as [QU] by some educated speakers, especially those from the Midland region, and this pronunciation seems to be on the increase. NEAR, SQUARE, START, NORTH

The loss of postvocalic r is recessive, as indicated for nurse. With these vowels, before juncture, it is common for educated speakers to insert a schwa glide before the r-coloring, such as square [skwE‘]. However, when the r is intervocalic, for example when a participial ending is added, then the schwa glide typically does not appear, yielding pronunciation pairs like near, nearing [nI‘, nIrIN]. MARRY, MERRY, MARY

While these words have become homophones for a great many StAmE speakers, some or all of them are still distinguished in some regions by educated speakers. The pronunciation with [E] for the set of words has spread from the North and North Midland regions. In the South, educated speakers still pronounce Mary with [e], and in the mid-Atlantic region educated speakers commonly pronounce words

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267

like marry, carry with [Q]. In the New York metropolitan area, educated speakers still commonly distinguish all three words. FORCE, ORANGE

Historically the horse/hoarse pair was distinguished by pronunciations with [ç] and [o], respectively. Now most educated speakers no longer make the distinction, but the [o] pronunciation is still sometimes heard, primarily from older speakers. This vowel is particularly unstable before intervocalic r, so that words like orange, forest may still be heard not only with [ç] and [o] but also with [A]. CURE

Words like cure not only show the effects of varying realizations of postvocalic r, but the palatal onset for the vowel also seems to create instability and a wide range of realizations [u~U~´]. A somewhat narrower range of realizations occurs in educated speech in similar words without the palatal, as poor [u~U]. happY

The word-final sound is now commonly pronounced with [i], but older [I] may still be heard, especially from educated Southern speakers. lettER, horsES, commA

Vowels in unstressed final syllables vary between [I~´], often in harmony with the preceding vowel in suffixes like –ness, -ity, -es. This yields pairs of possible pronunciations like [-n´s, -nIs; -´Ri, -IRi; -´z, -Iz], where the [´]-form occurs after most vowels and the [I]-form occurs after high-front vowels. That said, vowel harmony is only suggestive, not controlling, in such situations. Unstressed final –er and –a are of course distinguished by r-coloring in StAmE. 3.2.

StAmE consonants

There are only a few notable StAmE consonantal practices aside from the issue of postvocalic r already covered with the vowels in the previous section. The most prominent concern /t/. Intervocalic t is most often realized as a tap or flap, frequently with voicing, so that latter/ladder are homonyms for educated Americans, as [lQR‘]; this pronunciation is transcribed as [lQd´r] in ODP, because the dictionary uses a restricted symbol set that does not include the R or ‘. /t/ is also frequently voiced prevocalically in consonant clusters such as –kt–, –pt–, –ft–, and –rt–. /t/ is typically deleted from –nt– clusters between vowels (unless separated by stress), for example making homonyms of the words winter/winner. The palatal glide /j/ remains firmly in place in words like cure, music, but in other words like Tuesday, coupon, neurotic it is frequently lost. Postvocalic /l/ is vocalized more and more

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often by educated speakers, except before juncture, to yield pronunciations like U alcohol, milk [QUk´hçl, mI k]. Educated speakers sometimes voice other consonants as well, such as [Eks-, Egz-] as variant pronunciations of the ex- prefix. 3.3.

StAmE stress patterns

As clearly exemplified in the transcriptions in ODP, StAmE pronunciation shows a different pattern of stress from British English. StAmE pronunciation tends more to preserve secondary stress, and thus more fully-realized vowels, than British English, as in StAmE [»sEkr´«tEri] versus British English [»sEkrItri]. This results in a characteristically different rhythm for StAmE pronunciation as compared to British and other world English varieties. Educated Southern speakers tend to prefer strong initial stress (and are recognized for it) in words like insurance, police, Thanksgiving, umbrella, while other Americans place strong stress on the second syllable of these words. It is possible that a general American tendency towards strong initial stress is responsible for vowel alternations between the use of stressed and unstressed vowel forms in the weakly-stressed initial syllables of many words, such as electric [´»lEktrIk, i»lEktrIk] or retain [r´»teIn, ri»teIn].

4.

Conclusion

Because StAmE pronunciation is characterized negatively, by the suppression of identifiable regional and social variants, instead of positively by a collection of its own features, there is less to say about StAmE than about positively-defined varieties from different regions. It is clearly the case, however, that StAmE pronunciation is not somehow a perfect or correct exemplar of American English pronunciation, from which American regional and social varieties are deviant offshoots. StAmE pronunciation is the product of demographic factors, just as American regional and social varieties are. In common usage StAmE refers not to any set of “correct” pronunciations, but to a level of quality in pronunciation that corresponds to the degree of suppression of marked regional and social features.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Bronstein, Arthur J. 1960 The Pronunciation of American English. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall.

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Crevecoeur, J. Hector St. John 1782 (1981) Letters from an American Farmer. Ed. by A. Stone. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Kretzschmar, William A., Jr. 1996 Foundations of American English. In: Schneider (ed.), 25–50. 2002 American English: Melting Pot or mixing bowl? In: Katja Lenz and Ruth Möhlig (eds), Of Dyuersitie & Chaunge of Langage: Essays presented to Manfred Görlach, 224–239. Heidelberg: C. Winter. Labov, William 1981 Resolving the Neogrammarian controversy. Language 57: 267–309. 1991 The three dialects of English. In: Eckert (ed.), 1–44. Labov, William, and Sharon Ash. 1997 Understanding Birmingham. In: Bernstein, Nunnally and Sabino (eds), 508–573. Mathews, Mitford 1931 The Beginnings of American English. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. McDavid, Raven I., Jr. 1948 Postvocalic /-r/ in South Carolina: A social analysis. American Speech 23: 194–203. Marckwardt, Albert 1960 American English. New York: Oxford University Press. Milroy, James 1992 Linguistic Variation and Change. Oxford: Blackwell. Milroy, James, and Lesley Milroy 1999 Authority in Language. 3rd ed. London: Routledge. Upton, Clive, William A. Kretzschmar, Jr, and Rafal Konopka 2001 Oxford Dictionary of Pronunciation for Current English. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

New England: phonology* Naomi Nagy and Julie Roberts

1.

Introduction

The six states that make up New England (NE) are Vermont (VT), New Hampshire (NH), Maine (ME), Massachusetts (MA), Connecticut (CT), and Rhode Island (RI). Cases where speakers in these states exhibit differences from other American speakers and from each other will be discussed in this chapter. The major sources of phonological information regarding NE dialects are the Linguistic Atlas of New England (LANE) (Kurath 1939-43), and Kurath (1961), representing speech patterns from the first half of the 20th century; and Labov, Ash and Boberg, (fc); Boberg (2001); Nagy, Roberts and Boberg (2000); Cassidy (1985) and Thomas (2001) describing more recent stages of the dialects. There is a split between eastern and western NE, and a north-south split within eastern NE. Eastern New England (ENE) comprises Maine (ME), New Hampshire (NH), eastern Massachusetts (MA), eastern Connecticut (CT) and Rhode Island (RI). Western New England (WNE) is made up of Vermont, and western MA and CT. The lines of division are illustrated in figure 1. Two major New England shibboleths are the “dropping” of post-vocalic r (as in [ka:] car and [ba:n] barn) and the low central vowel [a] in the BATH class, words like aunt and glass (Carver 1987: 21). It is not surprising that these two features are among the most famous dialect phenomena in the region, as both are characteristic of the “Boston accent,” and Boston, as we discuss below, is the major urban center of the area. However, neither pattern is found across all of New England, nor are they all there is to the well-known dialect group. We present a brief description of the settlement of the region as a whole and give examples of past and current pronunciation patterns to illustrate both how New England differs from the rest of the country and what region-internal differences exist. The material is rather thin in some areas, due to a dearth of recent research on New England English. Nevertheless, the resulting pattern is one that reflects the richness and diversity of the region itself.

2.

European settlement of New England

Our story begins with the European settlement of a region that was previously populated by a variety of indigenous peoples. There has been no systematic study of the possible influences of the indigenous languages on English, but we can see

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Figure 1. Eastern and Western New England according to Carver (1987: 31). Reprinted with permission from the University of Michigan Press.

their influence in local toponyms, for example the Piscataqua River in NH, the Kennebec River in ME, Lake Memphremagog in VT, and Contacook, a town in Rhode Island, as well as the word Massachusetts. European settlers in Eastern New England came primarily from Boston, on the Massachusetts Bay, and were of English stock. This coastal area, originally home to indigenous groups, was settled by English immigrants in the early 1600’s and became one of the country’s cultural hearths. In search of better farm land, some of these original European settlers moved west from the coast and settled the Lower Connecticut River Valley in central CT. They were joined soon after by new immigrants from eastern and southern England, and later from Italy, Scotland and Ireland, among other places. Settlement spread, generally along river valleys, into NH, VT, ME, and RI (Carver 1987: 7).

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WNE was settled by migration from central MA and central and western CT, including Hartford, Springfield, and New Haven, towns originally settled in the 1630s (Boberg 2001: 4). Following this movement, Eastern and Western NE remained isolated from each other until the early 18th century (Rosenberry 1962: facing 70; Kurath 1972: 42, cited in Boberg 2001: 4). Western VT was settled in the late 18th century by English-speaking migrants from western CT and MA (Kurath 1939-43: 104, cited in Boberg 2001: 5) and from NY (Rosenberry 1962: 136, cited in Boberg 2001: 5), as well as some settlers from east of the Green Mountains (NH, ME, and RI) (Kurath 1939-43: 103-4, cited in Boberg 2001: 5). WNE, in turn, was “the staging ground for the initial English-speaking settlement of the Inland North” (Boberg 2001: 9). WNE also “received a considerable admixture of Scotch-Irish in the half century preceding the Revolution [early 18th century]” (Kurath 1928: 391, cited in Boberg 2001: 9), though they did not form a sizeable percentage of the population at any time. Also present in NE are Franco-Americans who moved south from French-speaking parts of Canada, and large Irish and Italian groups. Upper ME (north of Penobscot Bay) is quite distinct from the rest of the region, due to ties with New Brunswick, Canada (Carver 1987: 31). Boston, the largest New England city, is still known as the hub, hearkening back to its position as the center from which settlements radiated in New England. Much of the rest of NE, however, is more rural, with many farms, forests, and undeveloped areas surrounding small towns and cities. Like many rural communities, NE is undergoing changes including increased highways, in-migration from other dialect areas, and change from small family farms to agribusiness (Frazer 1983; Labov 1994). The rural, regional dialects appear threatened with obsolescence due to the decrease in agriculture and increase in in-migration by speakers from other states. This loss evokes mixed reactions within the communities, where it may be seen as a sign of progress and increasing sophistication as well as a loss of cultural identity (Ring 1997).

3.

New England dialect regions

The Linguistic Atlas of New England (Kurath 1939-43) divides the area into Eastern (ENE) and Western (WNE) (divided by the Green Mountains of VT in the north, the Berkshires in the middle, and the Connecticut River in the south), with seven subregions dictated by settlement patterns (Carver 1987). However, today there is little in the way of linguistic markers of these sub-regions, aside from some distinctive characteristics of ENE. A Word Geography of the Eastern United States (Kurath 1949) divides New England into only three regions (Northeastern, Southeastern, and Southwestern), better representing current linguistic differences.

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As table 1 demonstrates, the English of NE is in many ways similar to that heard in many other regions of the United States. In the following section, we will discuss the ways in which NE English may be different from other regions.

4.

Vowels

Table 1.

New England vowels — summary

KIT




FACE

e


START

a() ~ ()

DRESS



PALM

a ~ 

NORTH

ç() > 

TRAP

æ > E´

THOUGHT

~ç

FORCE

ç()

LOT

~

GOAT

´o > ç

CURE

jU´()

STRUT

´

GOOSE

u ~ Uu˘

happY

i

FOOT

U

PRICE

AI > ´I

lettER

´(®)

BATH

Q > E´ > a

CHOICE

çI

horsES

´>I

CLOTH

A

MOUTH

aU>´U

commA

(®)

NURSE

(®)

NEAR

i(®)

kittEN

n ~ n

FLEECE

i

SQUARE

(®)

aunt

nt

In discussing the vowel patterns, we begin with the elements considered essential as points of departure for the phonological analysis of North American English dialects, according to Labov (1991: 21). The lack of a merger between low, back, unrounded /A/ (LOT) and mid, back, rounded, lengthened /ç/ (THOUGHT) and the behavior of low front /Q/ (TRAP/BATH) as a unified phoneme (rather than split into tense and lax classes) is seen as essential conditions for the Northern Cities Chain Shift (NCCS), a major ongoing change in American phonology. The presence of these two phonemic patterns is necessary for the onset of the NCCS: TRAP/BATH raises, leaving a space for LOT to move forward and maintain its distinction from THOUGHT (Boberg 2001: 11; Labov 1994: 184; Gordon, this volume), thus initiating a chain shift. 4.1.

TRAP, BATH, HAPPY AND DANCE

At the time of the Linguistic Atlas of New England (LANE) fieldwork, both BATH and TRAP comprised a unified low front vowel across New England (Kurath 1939– 43: Maps 150 sack, 344 pantry, and 371 dad, cited in Boberg 2001: 13). Laferriere’s (1977: 102–3) findings from urban Boston show a less uniform picture. She

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reported for BATH a non-productive backing: lexicalized and categorical before many /f/ and / / words and in some /n/ words (e.g., half, rather, aunt) and lexicalized but variable before /s/ and in other /n/ words (e.g., last, dance). Supporting evidence comes from Calais, ME, where a majority of speakers report saying [ant] for aunt. Some speakers report [Ant], but none report [Qnt]. This differs from much of the US, where [Qnt] is used (Miller 1989: 124). Our NH speakers use [æ] for all of these word classes except aunt, which is [A]. Laferriere (1977) also reports a productive, phonological process raising TRAP and BATH to [´], demonstrated by her younger speakers. As this process was found to affect both TRAP and BATH vowels, it thus encroaches on the lexical BATH class that had been subjected to backing. A more recent study of WNE found raising of the nucleus in TRAP and BATH in all environments and tensing (as well as raising) before nasals (DANCE) (Boberg 2001: 17–19). A small sample of telephone survey data (Labov, Ash and Boberg fc.) showed this to be the case across WNE with exception of the very northern city of Burlington, Vermont. Words like bad and stack are pronounced with [e], and words like stand and can are pronounced []. Labov (1991: 12) suggests that unified raising of TRAP/BATH/DANCE is a pivot condition for the NCCS (Northern Cities Chain Shift). Boberg (2001: 11) further argues that the NCCS may thus have had its beginnings in northwestern NE. The existence of this raising pattern is surprising if one accepts the reported lack of BATH-raising in the LANE data (Kurath 1939-43), especially given that Labov, Ash and Boberg (fc.) does not show this to be an incipient vigorous change: older speakers show more raising than younger speakers in Hartford, CT, Springfield, MA, and Rutland, VT (Boberg 2001: 19). 4.2.

LOT, CLOTH AND THOUGHT

There was a major split within New England as early as the 1930s at which point ENE did not have a distinction between LOT and THOUGHT, while WNE had two distinct phonemes, (Kurath 1939-43, discussed in Boberg (2001: 13). ENE pronounced both LOT- and THOUGHT-type words with [Å], while virtually all of WNE used [A] and [ç:] respectively, resembling NYC. One modern exception to this pattern is Providence, RI, where the two vowels are distinct (Labov 2000: Map 1). Another may be Calais, ME, where no speakers reported a merger in Miller (1989: 101). More recent data (Labov, Ash and Boberg fc.) presents a strikingly different picture for the LOT/THOUGHT merger. While all western CT speakers keep the two values clearly distinct, resembling the Inland North pattern, seven of eight VT speakers have completely merged the two vowels. One older northern VT woman did not merge these vowels, suggesting that the merger is more recent in VT than CT (Boberg 2001: 20). This trend is supported by unpublished data from the McGill-Vermont-New Hampshire Survey (Nagy,

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Roberts and Boberg 2002) which shows most New England speakers report merging these two vowels. Our two recorded NH speakers produced LOT, CLOTH and THOUGHT with []. One of them also produced PALM with this vowel. Boberg (2001: 22) attributes the presence of the merger in VT to lack of contact with the Inland North (due to the barrier of Lake Champlain) combined with contact over the Green Mountains with the merged speakers of NH. In contrast, CT speakers have more contact with NY and thus retain the distinction. Geographically located between CT and VT, western MA speakers exhibit an intermediary variable pattern. In our data, however, MA has the highest rate of merger. Interestingly, Burlington, VT speakers show a tendency to merge LOT and THOUGHT in low back position, similar to the ENE merger (and to the Canadian merger just north of them), whereas the two Rutland speakers, 67 miles south, show a merger in low-central position (like that of southwestern NE) (Boberg 2001: 24), providing a gradual transition between the northern and southern WNE patterns. To summarize, with respect to the LOT/THOUGHT merger and BATH/TRAP/ DANCE raising, ENE has full merger of LOT/THOUGHT (except RI) and no BATH/ TRAP/DANCE raising, except for that reported in Boston by Laferriere (1977). WNE is more complex: The CT portion of the lower Connecticut Valley (the Hartford area) is a pure Northern [NCCS] system, with raised [bath/trap] and centralized [lot], distinct from mid-back [thought]. Northwestern VT (Burlington) is a pure “third dialect” system, not unlike the Canadian systems to the north of it [with no bath raising and a lot/thought merger]. Between Burlington and the lower Connecticut Valley are two transitional types. Springfield, and perhaps western MA in general, is basically Northern [NCSS] but shows a reduction of contrast between the low-back vowels, which may be tending toward merger among the youngest speakers in that area. Southwestern VT (Rutland) shows a solid merger of the low-back vowels but in the phonetic position characteristic of [lot] in western MA and CT (Boberg 2001:25-6).

4.3.

FACE AND FLEECE

In general, there is nothing remarkable about these tense front vowels. However, Duckert (1986: 141) reports diphthongs in words like [maSi'jan] machine and [dreijan] drain as a feature of rural New England dialects. Laferriere (1979: 431) lists the variable pronunciation of FACE as [i] or [e] as a marker of Boston speech. 4.4.

GOAT

Avis (1961) described a complex pattern involving GOAT in ENE. Reporting on the data from LANE, Avis argues that there are, in fact, two phonemes: an upgliding phoneme that appears word-finally, and another phoneme in which alternation can

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be found between monophthongal [o] and one with a fronted inglide [o]. Avis (1961: 552) also notes that the monophthongal vowel is more likely to be found in “dialectal” speech than in words “learned in school”. Avis does not report on this vowel in WNE. Roberts (1997) indicates that GOAT is produced as a lowered, lax vowel with either no glide or a shortened upglide in VT. All older and younger adult speakers produce low, lax GOAT, overlapping with their productions of FORCE. Laferriere (1977: 431) reports GOAT as [] as a feature of Boston English. 4.5.

GOOSE

Kurath (1939-43) found that both a tense ([u]) (as in too) and a lax ([ ]) (as in took) production of GOOSE occurred in NE, but we hear only [u] or [ u] today. 4.6.

PRICE AND MOUTH

Miller (1989: 110) reports Canadian raising (the production of PRICE and MOUTH before voiceless vowels as [´ ]and [´
] respectively) in Calais, ME –not surprising as this town is on the border of Canada. Raising was reported in Calais in LANE (Map 354, vol. II, Part 1; Map 481, vol. II, Part 2; Map 53, vol. I, Part 1, cited in Miller 1989: 110), but not in neighboring towns. Kurath and McDavid (1961: 10910, cited in Miller1989: 112) cited patterns similar to Canadian raising for coastal ME and southern NH. However, Canadian raising has not been reported elsewhere in NE. Our NH speakers do not produce raised nuclei in these diphthongs. A pattern that may be seen as similar to Canadian raising, however, has been reported in Vermont for some time. Kurath (1939–43) reported a fronted, raised nucleus of MOUTH was being overtaken by a fronted, but low production in VT. He also found that change in progress was occurring with PRICE, in that the raised nucleus was receding in favor of a lowered, more “standard” pronunciation. Work by Amblo and Roberts (1997) notes the continuation of this trend in VT in that women and younger speakers are pronouncing these vowels in a more standardsounding way than older rural men. 4.7.

START

Some variation between the central and back variants is seen for this vowel in NH. Our older male western NH speaker produced START with the central [a], while the younger female eastern NH speaker produced it with []. The vowel /A/ before /®/ appears as [A] even along the ME/New Brunswick border, in spite of the contact with Canadian [çr] pronunciations (Miller 1989: 88). Examples include tomorrow, sorry and borrow. This pattern was also reported in LANE (Kurath 1939–43: Map 72, vol. I, Part 1 and Map 564–5, vol. III, Part 1). However, all of Miller’s sixteen

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speakers report [ç®IndZ] for orange (Miller 1989: 89), while LANE (Map 273, vol. II, Part 1) reported [®IndZ] for this area. 4.8.

NORTH/FORCE

ENEers traditionally made a distinction between pairs like for and four, or horse and hoarse, which is not heard in most of the rest of the U.S. As a result of this distinction, combined with r-dropping, a Boston pronunciation of short rhymes with shot; north rhymes with moth. This distinction may be disappearing among young people (Labov, Ash and Boberg fc.). Our NH speakers have merged these two vowels. Laferriere (1979: 428) defines the vowel in short and forty (NORTH) as [Å´], in contrast to the standard [o´()]. The words that have this vowel in standard American English are divided (apparently arbitrarily, cf. McCarthy 1999) into two classes in the Boston dialect, some of which allow this alternation and some of which use only [o´] (Laferriere 1979: 429). 4.9.

BOTHER AND FATHER

Bostonians and Northern New Hampshirites generally maintain a distinction between the vowels in the first syllables of bother [A] and father [a], while many residents of VT and southern NH, especially younger people, have merged those vowels (Nagy 2001). Miller’s respondents (Miller 1989: 124) report that father and bother do not rhyme in Calais, ME. 4.10. mary, merry and marry Many speakers in eastern MA and northern NH have three distinct pre-rhotic front vowels, differentiated in the triplet Mary [e:] ~ merry [E] ~ marry [Q], while those in VT and southern NH pronounce the three words alike (Nagy 2001; Nagy and Roberts 1998). Miller (1989: 99) reports that most speakers in Calais, ME, have a two-way merger: for 80% of the speakers, Mary and marry are [meri] and merry is [mEri]. 13% of the speakers surveyed have merged all three. (7% have slightly different two-way mergers.) This indicates a marked change from LANE, where a three-way distinction was maintained across NE (Miller 1989: 100). 4.11.

Mergers before L

Pre-lateral mergers that occur in other parts of the U.S. are documented as not occurring in NE in Labov, Ash and Boberg (fc). These include the following tense and lax vowel pairs before /l/: /i/ and /i
/ (pill and peel), /u/ and /u / (pull and pool), and /e/ and /e
/ (well and wail).

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5. 5.1.

Consonants T, D

Several types of substitutions involving the alveolar stops /t/ and /d/ appear in the New England area. These include both substitutions of spirantized variants for alveolar stops as well as alveolar stops substituting for interdental fricatives. Glottal stop replacement of /t/ (e.g., [m
n] mitten, [vm ] Vermont, [r
 n] Right on!) in VT appears to be a robust dialect phenomenon. Although considered to be a traditional rural phenomenon most common to older male speakers, these glottal forms are found in speakers of all ages in VT. Children produced at least as many glottal stop forms as their parents, with girls producing more // than boys (Roberts 2001). These findings demonstrate that dialect obsolescence, common in rural areas, does not necessarily mean a change toward “Standard English.” In this case, girls appear to be leading a change toward a resurgence of glottal stop replacement. Similar findings have been reported in the United Kingdom where research on the glottal stop has been going on for years (cf. Milroy et al. 1994; Foulkes, Docherty and Watt 1999). Nagy and Ryback-Soucy (2000) indicates the frequent use of alveolar stops /t/ and /d/ in place of interdental fricatives /T/ and /D/ among speakers who self-identify as members of the Franco-American community of Manchester, NH. Finally, Miller (1989: 104) reports categorical flapping in butter for the speakers he surveyed in ME. LANE also reports flapping for most of NE (Map 496, vol. III, Part 1, cited in Miller 1989: 105). This is in keeping with the general pattern of northern AmE: categorical post-tonic flapping for all speakers (Strassell 1997). 5.2.

Word-initial H

The Franco-American speakers studied in Manchester, NH, who substitute [t,d] for / , /, also variably omit word-initial H and insert an initial 10 H in underlyingly vowel-initial words (e.g., [oli hnd´l a
] Holy Angel High). Interestingly, several of these speakers are monolingual Anglophones, so this is not a case of mother tongue interference in a second language, but rather a marking of cultural identity. 5.3.

W/HW distinction

The distinction between word initial and words, as in which and witch, is retained to some extent in parts of NH, VT, and MA (Labov 2000). This pattern was reported in LANE (Map 163, vol. I, Part 2, and Map 179, vol. I, Part 2, cited in Miller 1989: 108). However, the distinction was not maintained by Miller’s ME speakers. Kurath and McDavid (1961: 178) mention this merger as occurring “in a narrow coastal strip of NE extending from Boston to the Kennebec in Maine.”

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5.4.

279

JU (JOD-DROPPING)

Our survey data (Nagy and Roberts 1998) show the continuing presence, mostly among older speakers, of a palatal glide or jod between alveolar consonants and [u] in words such as new [n(j)u] and Tuesday [t(j)uzde
]. This was also noted by Duckert (1986: 141) as a feature of rural NE speakers. Interestingly, LANE shows a preference for the jod-less pronunciation even among the oldest speakers (Kurath 1939-43: Map 4, vol. I, Part 1). Sixteen speakers from Calais, ME, surveyed in the late 1980’s showed no use of the jod in either relevant survey question (the pronunciation of during and reduce) (Miller 1989:86). 5.5.

R vocalization and intrusive R

Finally, a frequently noted feature of ENE, also exhibited by speakers in the Virginia and North Carolina hearth areas, is the vocalization (popularly referred to as “dropping”) of // in post-vocalic position. People talk about “New Hampsha” and “Woosta” for New Hampshire and Worcester. Similarly, Laferriere (1979: 431) indicates that the R-less production of START with [a:] is a marker of Boston speech. Linking R is produced: if the following word begins with a vowel, the R is rhotic (hear it). A related NE pattern is the appearance of inter-vocalic // where the standard spelling does not indicate it, referred to as intrusive R, as in [sa:
t] saw it. According to Labov (1966), “the vocalization of // is eroding under the influence of the post World War II convention that constricted // is the appropriate standard for careful speech.” However, all three Boston speakers included in Labov (2000) show some vocalization of //, and one Bostonian shows 50%. In contrast, most of WNE shows consistent []. Our recorded NH speakers vocalize // in reading the word list, in words such as CURE, LETTER, FORCE, NORTH, START, SQUARE, and NEAR. Variable vocalization is also evident in the recorded and transcribed narratives.

6.

Compound word stress

Duckert (1986: 141) reports a tendency for stress to appear on the second element of compound words such as maple TREE, band CONCERT, polar BEAR, and battle FIELD in rural NE speech. We are not sure if this pattern is constrained to NE.

7.

Summary

As we have shown, NE presents a complex linguistic profile. There are a number of both consonantal and vowel patterns that preserve the distinction between NE

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English and other varieties present in the U.S. Some of these features are uniformly distributed across NE, while others illustrate the maintenance of distinct dialect subregions. It appears that, as people more frequently move into the area from all over the country, New Englanders increasingly sound like other AmE speakers. However, some local features remain. Many New Englanders still “drop their r’s,” though no longer as consistently or in as many words as they used to. Others substitute glottal stop for T, and many retain a variety of fairly subtle vowel differences. Thus, much as found by the scholars who documented the linguistic patterns of this region in the early 20th century, both the NE dialect and its regional subdialects operate as relevant markers of NE identity today. *

This chapter is an extended version of a paper written by Nagy, Roberts and Boberg for American Language Review (2000). We are very grateful to Charles Boberg for sharing his large bank of knowledge about American dialects with us. We are also grateful for the assistance of Joleen Hansen and Denis Jobin who recorded and transcribed the two New Hampshire speakers.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Amblo, Rebecca and Julie Roberts 1997 Change and obsolescence in rural Vermont: /aw/, /ay/, and /uw/ in younger and older speakers. Paper presented at NWAV (New Ways of Analyzing Variation) Conference. Laval, Université Laval. Avis, Walter 1961 The New England short o: A recessive phoneme. Language 37: 544–558. Boberg, Charles 2001 The phonological status of Western New England. American Speech 76: 1– 29. Duckert, Audrey A. 1986 The speech of rural New England. In: Allen and Linn (eds.), 136–141. Foulkes, Paul, Gerry Docherty, and Dominic Watt 1999 Tracking the emergence of structured variation. Leeds Working Papers in Linguistics and Phonetics. Leeds, University of Leeds: 1–25. Frazer, Timothy C. 1983 Sound change and social structure in a rural community. Language in Society 12: 313–328. Kurath, Hans 1928 The origin of the dialectal differences in spoken American English. Modern Philology 25: 385–95.

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Labov, William 1991 The three dialects of English. In: Eckert (ed.), 1–44. Laferriere, Martha 1977 Boston short a: Social variation as historical residue. In: Fasold and Shuy (eds.), 100–107. 1979 Ethnicity in phonological variation in change. Language 55: 603–617. McCarthy, John 1999 The dialects of Eastern New England. Linguistics 402 course handout. http:// www-unix.oit.umass.edu/~jjmccart/ling402f01/11-Boston%20Vowels.pdf Miller, Corey 1989 The United States-Canadian border as a linguistic boundary: The English language in Calais, Maine and St. Stephen, New Brunswick. Undergraduate thesis, Linguistics Department. Cambridge, MA, Harvard University. Milroy, Lesley, James Milroy, Sue Hartley, and David Walshaw 1994 Glottal stops and Tyneside variation: Competing patterns of variation and change in British English. Language Variation and Change 6: 327–357. Nagy, Naomi 2001 ‘Live free or die’ as a linguistic principle. American Speech 76: 30–41. Nagy, Naomi and Julie Roberts 1998 Yankee doodles in dialectography: Updating New England. Paper presented at NWAV (New Ways of Analyzing Variation) Conference University of Georgia. Nagy, Naomi, Julie Roberts and Charles Boberg 2000 Yakking with the Yankees. American Language Review 5: 40–43. 2002 McGill-VT-NH Dialect Survey. Unpublished research instrument. Nagy, Naomi and Wendy Ryback-Soucy 2000 Exploring the dialect of the Franco-Americans of Manchester, New Hampshire. Journal of English Linguistics 28: 249–264. Ring, Wilson 1997 Time erodes all including traditional Vermont accent. The Caledonian Record: 2/15/1997: 1A, 12A. Roberts, Julie 1997 /ow/ movement and chain shift: An example from rural Vermont speech. Paper presented at NWAV (New Ways of Analyzing Variation) Conference, Laval, Canada. 2001 An American variable? A continuing study of glottal stop in Vermont. Paper presented at NWAV (New Ways of Analyzing Variation) Conference, North Carolina State University, Durham, NC. Rosenberry, Lois Kimball Mathews 1962 The Expansion of New England. New York: Russell and Russell. Strassell, S. 1997 Variation in American English flapping. In Claude Paradis, Diane Vincent, Denis Deshaies and Marty Laforest (eds.), Papers in Sociolinguistics NWAVE-26 à l’Université Laval, 125–35. Quebec: Nota bene.

New York, Philadelphia, and other northern cities: phonology Matthew J. Gordon

1.

Introduction

This chapter describes characteristic features of accents heard in some of the largest cities in the United States. The discussion considers two eastern cities, New York and Philadelphia, as well as the area around the Great Lakes which includes Chicago, Detroit, Cleveland, and Buffalo. In terms of the traditional dialectological classification, these locations represent a mixture of dialects (Kurath 1949). Philadelphia is squarely within the Midland region, while New York City is grouped as part of the North but is seen as constituting its own subregion. The Great Lakes area represents the core of the Inland North, a subregion of Northern speech that stretches from western New England to roughly the Mississippi River. Compared to other varieties in the U.S. and elsewhere, the dialects discussed here have been studied quite extensively by linguists. This is particularly true in the case of New York which has attracted regular dialectological interest since Babbitt’s 1896 report (e.g., Hubbell 1950; Thomas 1942). Much of the research on New York speech, as well as on that of Philadelphia and the Inland North, has focussed on the kinds of traditional features studied by dialect geographers. This information is valuable, but a description of contemporary speech patterns will also benefit from a more dynamic perspective, one that considers changing usage of older features as well as adoption of recent innovations. For this reason, much of the description here relies on sociolinguistic research, especially the work of William Labov who has written on New York City (1966), Philadelphia (2001), and the changes operating in the Inland North (Labov, Ash and Boberg fc.). Sociolinguistic research of this type is particularly well suited to the investigation of the speech of large urban areas because it examines a broad spectrum of the community of speakers rather than concentrating on any one segment of society. Still, even the best sociolinguistic studies cannot fully consider the rich social diversity of the populations of major cities like those discussed here. As a general caveat, therefore, it should be noted that the features described below characterize the speech of some, but certainly not all, people of these areas.

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283

Historical overview

Current dialect patterns often reflect historical trends. Among the forces shaping the American dialect landscape, particular attention is often paid to early settlement history. In the present case, settlement history can shine some light on the current dialect situation, at least on the general patterns if not on the occurrence of particular linguistic features. Some of the broad outlines of that history are sketched here. During the colonial period, New York and Philadelphia came to represent economic hubs in the “Middle Colonies”. They got their start as English colonies somewhat later than Massachusetts and Virginia. New York was a Dutch possession until 1664, and Pennsylvania was founded in 1680. From the earliest days, emigration to the Middle Colonies attracted a diverse population. This was especially true in Pennsylvania where the Quaker ideals of founder William Penn promoted religious and ethnic tolerance. In the colonial period and into the nineteenth century the most significant immigration, in addition to the British, was from Ireland and Germany. Toward the end of the nineteenth century, New York and Philadelphia (like other American cities) saw increasing immigration from southern and eastern Europe. Immigrants often settled in ethnically segregated neighborhoods such as the Irish neighborhood of Kensington in Philadelphia or New York’s Little Italy. The ethnic character of many of these areas remains evident today, and studies have demonstrated that the sociolinguistic effect of ethnic identity endures as well (see Labov 1966, 2001). Even more sociolinguistically salient is the ethnic diversity contributed by the influx of African Americans from the South and, especially in New York, of Puerto Ricans and other Caribbeans in the twentieth century, though a description of the unique features of the accents of these groups is not attempted in this chapter. With the exception of Upstate New York, the area of the Inland North was not heavily settled by Americans until after the establishment of the United States. Federal ordinances in 1785 and 1787 set into motion a process which eventually carved the “Northwest Territory” into the states of Ohio, Indiana, Michigan, Illinois, and Wisconsin. Many of the immigrants to the northern half of this region came from New England. Settlement of the area received a great boost from the opening of the Erie Canal in 1825 which connected the Hudson River with Lake Erie. The canal served not only to bring settlers from the East to the Inland North, but also to bring grain and other agricultural goods from the Inland North to markets in the East and abroad. In fact, the canal contributed greatly to New York City’s rise to prominence as the business capital of America. Along the Great Lakes, cities like Milwaukee, Chicago, Detroit, and Cleveland grew rapidly in the nineteenth century, helped in part by foreign immigration as was the case in Philadelphia and New York. Curiously, the urban centers of the Inland North display little regional linguistic variation; the same basic accent features are heard from Buffalo to Milwaukee. By contrast, distinctive dialect features are found in

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New York and Philadelphia as well as in many of the cities of the Midland region including Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, and St. Louis. It is possible that the relative uniformity of speech in the Inland North stems from the original settlement, consisting mainly of New Englanders, but it may also be related to the rapid growth of the cities and their economic interdependence which could have promoted a leveling of dialect differences through the spread of a regional standard. From these brief historical notes, we turn to a description of the accents. We consider first New York City before moving on to Philadelphia, then the Inland North.

3.

New York City

The speech of New York City holds a special place in American public consciousness. New York together with the South top most Americans’ lists of places with the most recognizable accents. Unfortunately for speakers of these accents, this salience comes from stigmatization. For outsiders, New York speech is often associated with toughness, lack of education, and “street smarts”. This is the stereotype conveyed by the popular label “Brooklynese”, which, in keeping with other cultural stereotypes, situates “true” New York speech outside Manhattan. The label raises the issue of potential differences across the five boroughs of the city. Some locals claim to be able to distinguish a Bronx speaker from a Brooklynite or a Staten Islander. The linguistics literature on New York speech does not recognize any consistent interborough differences though, in truth, the question has not been studied thoroughly. Of course, New York City does not lack for linguistic variation of other types. Indeed, with a socially diverse population of over eight million people, it is clearly a fiction to talk of a New York accent. The discussion of accent features below includes some comments about sociolinguistic variation, but readers are reminded of the earlier caveat about the diversity of accents in a city of this size. 3.1.

Lexical incidence

With many of the traditional regional markers of pronunciation, New York City shows a mix of influences – not a particularly surprising finding given its location on the border between the Northern and Midland dialect regions. For example, using data from the Linguistic Atlas projects and therefore representing speakers born in the late 19th century, Kurath and McDavid (1961) report a roughly even mixture of /i/ and /
/ in creek for New Yorkers. For root, the Midland (and Southern) /u/ was more common than the Northern / /. On the other hand, on normally shows // for New Yorkers as it does generally in the North. For the highly variable class of “short o” words with //, New Yorkers tend to have // in hog, frog, fog, and log, but /ç/ in dog. Among the more geographically restricted items, Kurath and McDavid (1961) note the pronunciation of won’t with /u/ as a feature of

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New York City (as well as the Eastern Shore of Maryland and the Carolina coast). They note a tendency for “cultured” speakers to avoid the /u/ variant, and the form is apparently less common today. Another lexical peculiarity, the use of /√/ in donkey, continues to be heard from New Yorkers. 3.2.

Vowels

New York speech was historically non-rhotic but has become increasingly r-pronouncing over the last half century (see below). The presence or absence of postvocalic /r/ typically has profound effects on vowel quality in dialects of English. In New York City, however, these effects seem to be less significant. For example, the inglides that are typical of non-rhotic speech (e.g., [nI] near; [skw] square) may remain in New York speech even among rhotic speakers (e.g., [n
] near; [skw] square) (Wells 1982: 506). In this overview whatever differences of vowel quality exist between rhotic and non-rhotic speakers are ignored and interested readers may refer to the specialist literature for further details. KIT DRESS TRAP LOT STRUT FOOT BATH CLOTH NURSE DANCE FLEECE FACE


PALM  THOUGHT æ ~ æ ~  ~
 GOAT  ~  GOAL √ GOOSE

PRICE æ ~  ~
 CHOICE ç ~ ç´ ~  MOUTH  NEAR æ ~  ~
 SQUARE i
~ i˘ START e
~ 
NORTH

 ~  ç ~ ç´ ~  o

o

u ~ u˘~
u 
~ 
ç
a ~ æ


  A ~ Å´ o ~ ç´

FORCE CURE happY lettER horsES commA TOMORROW ORANGE MARRY MERRY MARY

o ~ ç´

 i 
~ˆ~    æ  e ~  ~

TRAP, BATH, DANCE

In New York City, and elsewhere in the Mid-Atlantic region, the historical “short a” vowel class is split into two phonemes. The complicated distribution of these phonemes, labeled here lax /æ/ and tense /æ/, is defined by phonological, morphological, and lexical patterns. The lax /æ/ occurs consistently before voiceless stops, /t/, and /l/ (e.g., cat, lap, back, match, pal). The tense /æ´/ generally occurs before voiced stops, /d/, voiceless fricatives, and front nasals (e.g., bad, badge, bath, ham, dance). If, however, the vowel is followed by an unstressed syllable, the choice of phoneme depends on the morphological status of that syllable. The tense vowel appears when the syllable is a separate morpheme as in the case of an inflectional suffix (e.g., badges, dragging). The lax vowel appears when the

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unstressed syllable is part of the root morpheme (e.g., clamor, dragon). Function words such as an, am, can and had are exceptions to the phonological rule as they occur with lax phoneme. Thus, the auxiliary can and the noun can (as in the metal container) form a minimal pair for the lax/tense contrast. In the environments of a following voiced fricative or // (e.g., jazz, bang) the occurrence of /æ/ and /æ/ is variable. Before /v/, for example, the lax phoneme predominates, but avenue, in which /æ/ is usual, stands as a lexical exception. More details about the patterning of these phonemes can be found in Labov (1994: 335) and Labov, Yaeger, and Steiner (1972: 48–52). Phonetically the tense phoneme is distinguished from the lax by lengthening and raising. The vowel often appears as an ingliding diphthong with the nucleus varying in height from [æ] to [
]. Labov (1966) found the height of this vowel to vary sociolinguistically. The higher variants (i.e., [
] ~ []) occur more commonly among speakers from the lower end of the socioeconomic hierarchy and in less formal speaking styles. LOT

As in other American dialects, the vowel in these items is most often []. However, a subset of LOT items features a lengthened and diphthongized variant, []. This variant may appear before a word final voiced stop, /d/, or /m/ (e.g., cob, cod, cog, lodge, bomb). It also occurs variably before voiced fricatives (e.g., bother), // (e.g., wash), and in the words on, John, and doll (Wells 1982: 514). CLOTH, THOUGHT

One of the more distinctive features of New York speech involves the raising of the vowel in the THOUGHT and CLOTH classes. Labov (1966) describes this pattern as varying on a scale from [ç] to [ ]. An inglide typically accompanies higher variants, giving [o] or [ ]. Labov (1994) has suggested that this raising may form part of a chain shift with the backing and raising of the PALM vowel. The sociolinguistic patterning seen with /ç/ is less consistent than in the case of /æ/ tensing. Labov’s (1966) data on casual speech style show raising of /ç/ to be more prevalent among middle and working class New Yorkers than among the lower class, but the pattern is reversed in more formal contexts. Still, there are similarities between the sociolinguistic distribution of the THOUGHT/CLOTH variation and that of TRAP/DANCE. These similarities combined with the fact that phonetically the changes present a mirror image suggest that they may arise out of a kind of parallelism. NURSE

One of the stereotypes of New York speech is the use of a front-rising diphthong in NURSE words. This stereotype is popularly represented in stock phrases like ‘toity toid’ for thirty third. The phonetic reality of this variant is near [
]. The variant may also appear in the CHOICE class, resulting in verse and voice as homophones.

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The diphthongal variant in NURSE is highly stigmatized. Labov’s data from the mid-1960s indicated the form was recessive then. Only 2 of his 51 speakers under age 20 used the form as compared with those over age 50 of whom 23 out of 30 used the form. CHOICE items may occur with [] (e.g., [tlt] toilet), apparently as a result of hypercorrection. FACE

The usual realization of this vowel is [e
] though a lax variant, [
], has been reported in words with a following /l/ (e.g., sailor). GOOSE

The usual vowel in this class is either the monophthong [u] or the diphthong [ u]. Some speakers appear to have a separate phoneme, /
u/, in words such as tune, news, duke (historically a separate class). The phonemic status of this vowel is marginal. For example, Labov (1966) reports that New Yorkers may contrast [du] do with [d
u] dew though they may also have [d
u] do. Still, dew is always [d
u] and never [du]. PRICE, MOUTH

The diphthongs in these items exhibit the tendency toward nucleus-glide differentiation, a pattern common in many varieties of English. The nucleus of the backgliding vowel in MOUTH is fronted while that of the front-gliding PRICE is backed. The sociolinguistic evidence (Labov 1966) suggests that both of these developments are active changes. The fronted nucleus in MOUTH and the backed nucleus in PRICE are more common among younger speakers, women, and the working and lower middle classes. NORTH, FORCE

The historical distinction between these vowels has been lost in New York speech as is increasingly the case in other American dialects. Indeed, the Mid-Atlantic region was one of the areas in which the Linguistic Atlas researchers recorded this merger, a fact that suggests the merger has characterized New York speech since at least the late 19th century. The merged vowel is often recorded as [ç´] but recent acoustic evidence suggests it may be closer to [o] or even higher. Labov (1994) suggests it forms the second stage in a chain shift spurred by the backing and raising of START. START, PALM

The vowel of these items is variously transcribed as [], [:], [], or []. It is generally treated as phonemically distinct from the LOT class. Thus, even among non-rhotic speakers cart and cot remain distinct. The START/PALM vowel is often

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backed and may be raised as well. Labov (1994) suggests it operates as part of a chain shift with the raising of CLOTH/THOUGHT and NORTH/FORCE. TOMORROW, ORANGE

In both of these sets, the usual vowel is the unrounded []. In the case of ORANGE, this pronunciation distinguishes New York speech from that of other American dialects in which the NORTH/FORCE vowel is heard. MARRY, MERRY, MARY

New York speech shows either a two- or three-way contrast among /æ/, //, and /e/ before intervocalic /r/. MARRY is generally distinct with a low [æ]. MERRY and MARY may be merged at [] or the latter may remain distinct either as [e] or something like []. 3.3.

Consonants

R

One of the most salient stereotypes of New York City speech is r-lessness. The pattern resembles that heard in eastern New England as well as in southern England. Non-prevocalic /r/ is vocalized, yielding pronunciations such as [h
] here and [kt] cart. Word final /r/ is pronounced when the following word begins with a vowel (e.g., [h

n] here in). Also, non-etymological, “intrusive” /r/ may appear and is especially common in idea and law. The non-rhotic status of the New York accent was noted by the Linguistic Atlas researchers and other early observers. R-lessness was characteristic of New Yorkers of all social levels through roughly the first half of the twentieth century. At some point, however, non-rhotic speech became stigmatized, and r-fulness appeared in the speech of many New Yorkers. By the time of Labov’s study in the mid-1960s, /r/ had become a strong class marker with r-lessness being more common among the lower and working classes. Today, /r/ continues to divide New Yorkers along class lines though the trend toward rhoticity appears to be progressing. TH

As in many other dialects, the interdental fricatives / / and / / are often realized as stops, [t] and [d] or affricates [t ] and [d ]. Labov (1966) found this alternation to vary by class with the non-fricative forms appearing more regularly in lower and working class speech. Unlike the reported changes with /r/, the variation with / / and / / appears to be stable. Alveolars The alveolar consonants /t/, /d/, /n/, and /l/ may be articulated with the tongue blade rather than the tip. Wells (1982) indicates that this articulation may, in some

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cases, also involve affrication, producing [ts] and [dz]. With /t/, glottalization is reported to be more common in New York speech than in other American dialects, appearing, for example, before syllabic /l/ (e.g., bottle [bl]). NG In addition to the ubiquitous alternation of [] and [n] in –ing endings, the speech of some New Yorkers shows [] as a variant of //. This variant is another salient stereotype of the New York accent and is commonly mocked in the pronunciation [lçNgAIlnd] Long Island. WH The historical distinction between /hw/ and /w/ (e.g., which vs. witch) has been lost in New York as throughout much of the US. The merger seems to have taken hold in the Mid-Atlantic region relatively early as this area was reported as merged by the Linguistic Atlas researchers. HJU In words like human and huge, which begin with an /hj/ cluster, the /h/ is commonly deleted giving [jumn] and [jud]. L Vocalization of /l/ is common in New York though it is perhaps not as pervasive as in other dialects. Like its fellow liquid /r/, it may be vocalized when appearing in non-prevocalic contexts (e.g., [so] sell, [m
ok] milk).

4.

Philadelphia

The speech of Philadelphia has not attracted the kind of public awareness (outside the local area) that New York City has. Among linguists, however, Philadelphia is known for a number of intriguing speech features. Much of the city’s linguistic notoriety is due to the work of William Labov, who, with the help of his students at the University of Pennsylvania, has been studying the great diversity of Philadelphia speech over the last three decades. Indeed, it is fair to say that Philadelphia is the most richly documented and thoroughly studied speech community certainly in the U.S. and probably in the world. The discussion here presents an overview of several important aspects of the Philadelphia accent; interested readers can find much more complete accounts in the specialist literature (Labov 2001; Tucker 1944).

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4.1.

Lexical incidence

According to the traditional dialect geography of Kurath (1949), Philadelphia is located squarely in the Midland area, and in many ways it fits well into this neighborhood. For example, /u/ is commonly the vowel of root. It does, however, show exceptions to the usual Midland forms in a number of cases. For example, the Linguistic Atlas records suggest // is the usual vowel in frog, hog, and fog with /ç/ in dog – a pattern resembling that of the North. Also, Philadelphia has been noted as exceptional in featuring, at least among some speakers, the Northern // in on as opposed to the /ç/ that is heard in the Midland and the South (Kurath and McDavid 1961). The use of // as the stressed vowel in donkey, a pronunciation noted for New Yorkers, is also found in Philadelphia. Finally, regarding the well known pattern of consonant variation between /s/ and /z/ in grease and greasy, Philadelphia was identified as a transitional area between the generally Southern /z/ and the generally Northern /s/. 4.2.

Vowels

The vowels in Philadelphia speech show a remarkable degree of volatility. Labov’s extensive research has identified changes affecting over half of the vowel phonemes. In regional terms, Philadelphia shows an interesting mixture of Southern and Northern patterns. KIT DRESS TRAP LOT

STRUT FOOT BATH CLOTH NURSE DANCE FLEECE FACE


~
 PALM  ~  THOUGHT æ ~ æ ~ ~
 GOAT  GOAL √ ~ √3 GOOSE

~  PRICE æ ~  ~
 CHOICE ç ~ç3´ ~ o MOUTH  NEAR æ ~ e ~
 SQUARE i START e ~ e
 ~ i
 NORTH

 ç ~ ç3 ~ o o ~ 

o

u ~ u a
~ √e o
~
a ~ æç ~ ç i  ~~ç o~

FORCE CURE

happY lettER horsES commA TOMORROW ORANGE MARRY MERRY MARY

o~

i 
~i~    æ  ~√ e~

KIT, DRESS

Labov’s research has indicated a tendency toward lowering of the lax vowels in KIT and DRESS. This pattern is not yet well established and is labeled by Labov as an “incipient” change. TRAP, BATH, DANCE

Philadelphia shows the same split of the historical “short a” class described above for New York City, though the conditioning of the tense phoneme differs somewhat,

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appearing in a more limited set of phonological contexts. In Philadelphia the tense /æ/ occurs regularly only before /m/, /n/, /f/, / /, and /s/. Thus, one of the ways of distinguishing the New York pattern from the Philadelphia one is in the context of a following voiced stop. Items such as cab, sad, bag, and badge have the tense phoneme in New York but the lax phoneme in Philadelphia. There are, however, three lexical exceptions: mad, bad, and glad appear with the tense vowel in Philadelphia. As in New York, tensing is sensitive to morphology. The tense vowel normally appears only in closed syllables but does occur in open syllables resulting from inflectional suffixes. For example, manner has the lax vowel but manning (e.g., Who is manning the store?) has the tense phoneme as does man. Also, the tense vowel does not appear in function words (e.g., an, auxiliary can). Phonetically the tense class shows the same realizations here as in New York, varying in height to the high front position and typically diphthongized with an inglide. STRUT

The STRUT vowel may show raised and backed variants. In some cases the vowel is in the high, back corner of vowel space near /u/. This is reportedly a recent development and is one more common among male speakers. FOOT

The vowel of FOOT is sometimes fronted though not to the degree seen with the GOAT and GOOSE classes. CLOTH, THOUGHT

Another speech feature shared by Philadelphians and New Yorkers is the raising of /ç/ to [o] or even higher. The raised variants often appear as diphthongs with a centering glide. Labov’s research suggest that this pattern of raising is essentially complete in Philadelphia and seems no longer to be an active change. FLEECE

Early descriptions of Philadelphia speech indicate lowered and/or laxed variants of FLEECE were common. The recent sociolinguistic evidence indicates a reversal of this trend such that the vowel is now commonly raised and fronted. This raising is heard primarily in “checked” contexts; i.e., when the vowel is followed by a consonant (e.g., eat). FACE

The Linguistic Atlas researchers recorded lax variants of the FACE vowel near [
]. As with FLEECE, recent research suggest this trend is being reversed by raising and fronting of the vowel often to a position well beyond [e]. This raising occurs primarily in “checked” contexts (e.g., ate).

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GOAT, GOOSE

One of the features that Philadelphia shares with Southern dialects (and one absent from New York speech) is the fronting of the GOAT and GOOSE vowels. Generally greater degrees of fronting are heard when the vowels appear in “free” positions (i.e., without a following consonant) than in “checked” positions (i.e., with a following consonant). Fronting does not occur in the context of following liquids leading to significant separation of, e.g., the GOAT and GOAL classes. The fronting of GOAT and GOOSE is well established in Philadelphia, though cross-generational data show that it remains an active change. PRICE

The diphthong of PRICE may begin with a nucleus of mid or even higher position. The raising appears only before voiceless obstruents, and thus resembles the process known as “Canadian Raising” (see Boberg, this volume). The sociolinguistic evidence suggests this raising is a fairly recent addition to Philadelphia speech. MOUTH

Fronted nuclei in the diphthong of MOUTH are well established in Philadelphia speech as in New York. More recent research has noted a tendency among Philadelphians to raise the vowel, resulting in [ç]. START, NORTH, FORCE

Many Philadelphians use a rather high and back vowel in START, something near [ç]. The NORTH and FORCE classes are merged and typically appear with a mid to high back vowel. As noted in the discussion of New York, these tendencies toward backing and raising of START and NORTH/FORCE may constitute a chain shift. The evidence suggests the movement of START began this shift, and this vowel is relatively stable today, while generational differences are heard in the shifting of NORTH/FORCE. TOMORROW, ORANGE

For Philadelphians, as for New Yorkers, the usual vowel in both these sets is the unrounded []. MARRY, MERRY, MARY

The Linguistic Atlas records reported a two-way contrast for these vowels with /æ/ in MARRY and // in MERRY and MARY. More recent evidence indicates that MERRY and MARY remain separate in Philadelphia. Further supporting these reports of a contrast is the observation that MERRY items often appear with something like [√], which results in a merger (or close approximation) of merry ~ Murray, ferry ~ furry, etc.

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4.3.

293

Consonants

R Philadelphia is situated in the middle of the only traditionally rhotic area of the Atlantic states. This area runs from Pennsylvania and New Jersey down to Delaware and Northern Maryland, and remains r-pronouncing today. STRIn word-initial clusters involving /str/ (e.g., street), the /s/ may be realized as a hushing sibilant, approaching [] in some cases. TH As in other areas, the interdental fricatives / / and / / are often realized as stops, [t] and [d] or affricates [t ] and [d ] in Philadelphia speech. This variation appears to be a stable class-stratified feature with the non-fricative forms appearing more commonly in working class speech. NG Philadelphians display the usual variation between [] and [n] in –ing forms. As elsewhere, [n] appears more frequently in casual speech and does not appear to be undergoing change. L Vocalization of /l/ is quite pervasive in Philadelphia speech. Phonetically it may be realized as something like [o] or a velar or labio-velar glide, [] or [w], or the consonant may be deleted altogether. Among Philadelphians, as in other dialects, vocalization occurs quite frequently in word-final and pre-consonantal contexts (e.g., mill, milk). In a more unusual development, vocalization also may occur intervocalically in Philadelphia. This tendency is more common when /l/ appears following low vowels bearing primary word stress (e.g., hollow). This variable also shows some lexical conditioning, appearing, for example, with exceptionally high frequency in the pronunciation of the name of the city (Ash 1997). WH As in New York and elsewhere, the historical distinction between /hw/ and /w/ (e.g., which vs. witch) has been lost in Philadelphia.

5.

The Inland North

Many Americans might assume a description of Inland Northern speech to be unnecessary since in popular consciousness this region is known for its supposed

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lack of distinctive accent features. Together with the rest of the Midwest and West it represents the home of the “General American” accent. This label originally served to mark an accent lacking the features of the South and the Northeast. Dialectologists today have largely rejected the grouping of the area from Pennsylvania across the Great Lakes and the Midwest and westward to the Pacific as a single dialect, noting rightly the great diversity in speech habits within the region. Still, the notion of a General American dialect remains active in folk perceptions of American speech and represents a norm, a way of speaking that is unmarked regionally and socially. In fact, Inland Northern speech was actively promoted as a national standard. It is the variety described by John Kenyon in his popular textbook American Pronunciation, first published in 1924 (with multiple editions following). The dialect also became a model for the broadcast media, serving as the basis for the NBC Handbook of Pronunciation which first appeared in 1943. This sense that their speech represents a national standard remains strong today among Northerners despite the introduction there of a number of pronunciation features that distinguish Inland Northern voices from those heard in the national media. 5.1.

Lexical incidence

The Linguistic Atlas researchers identified a number of pronunciations as characteristic of the Northern dialect region. Many of these retain some currency in the Inland North today. One of the best known of these is the use of // in on as opposed to the Midland and Southern /ç/. The unrounded // also appears in hog, fog, and frog, while dog and log generally have /ç/. In root and roof, many Northerners use / / though /u/ is also heard. The use of /
/ in creek, traditionally very common in the North, has largely given way to /i/, and the lax vowel usage is often stigmatized. 5.2.

Vowels

The most significant vocalic features of the Inland North are those patterns of variation associated with the Northern Cities Shift. This phenomenon affects the KIT, DRESS, TRAP/BATH/DANCE, LOT/PALM, STRUT, and CLOTH/THOUGHT classes. The Shift is discussed in a separate section below. Considered here are other characteristics of the Northern vowels. KIT DRESS TRAP LOT


~
 ~
  ~  ~  ~  æ ~ æ ~  ~
  ~  ~ a

PALM THOUGHT GOAT GOAL

 ~  ~ a FORCE ç~Å~ CURE o ~ ö ~ o happY o ~ o lettER

o

i 

New York, Philadelphia, and other northern cities: phonology

STRUT FOOT BATH CLOTH NURSE DANCE FLEECE FACE

~√~ç

~  æ ~ æ ~  ~
 ç~~  æ ~ æ ~  ~
 i e
~ e

GOOSE PRICE CHOICE MOUTH NEAR SQUARE START NORTH

295

u ~ 

horsES


~i~

a
~ 
o
~ ç
aç ~ 

i   ~  ~ a o~ç

commA

  o~ç   

TOMORROW ORANGE MARRY MERRY MARY

FOOT, GOAT, GOAL, GOOSE

As elsewhere in American English, these back vowels may undergo fronting. However, in the Inland North this fronting is generally less extreme than in other varieties. Acoustic data suggest GOOSE is more advanced than either GOAT or FOOT. Fronting is not usual in the context of following liquids, e.g., GOAL. In some areas, GOAT and GOAL appear with long monophthongs as they do in the Upper Midwest (see Gordon, this volume) and Canada (see Boberg, this volume). FACE

Parallel with GOAT/GOAL, the mid front vowel of FACE may be produced as a long monophthong [e]. PRICE, MOUTH

The pattern known as “Canadian Raising” is often heard in the Inland North. This results in mid nuclei of the diphthongs, near [
] and [u], in the context of following voiceless obstruents. Raised forms appear to be more geographically widespread in PRICE than in MOUTH. NORTH, FORCE

The Linguistic Atlas researchers (Kurath and McDavid 1961) identified the North as an area that maintained the contrast between /çr/ NORTH and /or/ FORCE. This historical distinction is now largely gone with a vowel near [o] appearing in both classes. MARRY, MERRY, MARY

As in most varieties of American English outside the Atlantic coast, the MARRY, MERRY, and MARY classes are pronounced with the same vowel, something near []. The Northern Cities Shift The most significant characteristic of Inland North speech today is the set of pronunciations associated with the Northern Cities Shift (NCS). The NCS describes a series of sound changes affecting six vowel phonemes. These changes are:

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Matthew J. Gordon

KIT: /
/ is backed and/or lowered to approach [] in extreme cases. DRESS: // is backed and/or lowered resulting in forms such as [], [], or []. STRUT: // ~ /√/ is backed and may also be rounded resulting in [ç]. TRAP/BATH/DANCE: /æ/ is fronted and raised to a mid or high position and is

often produced with an inglide; i.e., [] or [
]. Phonetically these variants resemble those described above for tense /æ/ in New York and Philadelphia. – LOT/PALM: // is fronted to near /a/. – CLOTH/THOUGHT: /ç/ is lowered and/or fronted, often with unrounding, to something near []. The changes in the NCS are often represented as in figure 1 where the arrows indicate the main trajectories of the shifting vowels.




√ æ

Figure 1.

ç 

The Northern Cities Shift

The NCS appears to be a fairly recent addition to the speech of the Inland North. Linguists first noticed the pattern in the late 1960s though the dialect literature provides evidence that some of the individual changes had been active for at least several decades earlier. For example, the Linguistic Atlas researchers noted the fronting of // as a feature of the Inland North, and studies of college students in the 1930s reported /æ/ raising and // centralization as characteristics of Upstate New York (Thomas 1935–37). Regardless of when the NCS began, it seems clear that it underwent a great expansion, geographically and phonologically, in the second half of the twentieth century. The order in which the individual pieces of the NCS appeared is a matter of some debate, but it seems clear that the changes to /æ/, //, and /ç/ are older than the others. One scenario holds that the shift started with the fronting and raising of /æ/, which drew // forward, which in turn drew /ç/ down and forward. The shifting of // and /
/ began later and their centralizing movement may have sparked the final piece, the backing of // ~/√/. The chronology of these changes is of great theoretical interest because they appear to form a chain shift. Chain shifting describes a series of related changes in which movement of one vowel causes movement in another. Representations like figure 1 make clear the apparent interactions among the shifting vowels. The scenario sketched here for the low vowels describes a “drag chain” where a vowel moves into an empty space vacated by a neighboring

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vowel. The alternative is a “push chain” where a vowel shifts into another’s space causing the latter to shift to avoid crowding. The interaction between DRESS and STRUT appears to illustrate a push chain. The changes associated with the NCS operate unconditionally in the sense that the vowels may be shifted in any phonological context. By way of comparison, we might recall that in New York and Philadelphia, for example, the TRAP/BATH/DANCE vowel undergoes raising only in particular environments. In the NCS, by contrast, all instances of this phoneme are potentially subject to raising. Nevertheless, phonological context does play a role in shaping the NCS variation. For each of the shifting vowels, there are some phonological environments that favor the change and others that disfavor the change. Raising of /æ/, for example, is generally favored by following nasals or palatals (e.g., man, cash) and disfavored by following /l/ (Labov, Ash, and Boberg fc.). This does not mean that raised forms do not appear before /l/, only that raising is less common or less advanced (i.e., [æ] vs. [
]) in these items. The details of the phonetic conditioning of the NCS can be found in the specialist literature (e.g., Labov, Ash and Boberg fc; Eckert 2000; Gordon 2001). Interestingly, studies of the NCS have not always found consistent patterns of conditioning across various communities. For example, Labov, Yaeger and Steiner (1972) found a following velar stop to be a disfavoring context for /æ/ raising in Detroit and Buffalo whereas it seemed to have the opposite effect in Chicago. More recently, in a study of rural Michiganders Gordon (2001) identified following /l/ as a leading promoter of /æ/ raising, a finding that runs counter to the effects reported by studies of urban speakers. As the name implies, the NCS is associated with urban speakers from the traditional Northern dialect region. The most advanced forms of the shift are heard in the cities on and near the Great Lakes including Rochester, Buffalo, Cleveland, Detroit, Chicago, and Milwaukee. The national survey conducted by Labov and his colleagues (see Labov, Ash and Boberg fc.) finds evidence of the NCS (or at least some pieces of the Shift) in a vast stretch of the northern U.S. from Vermont, western Massachusetts, and Connecticut, across upstate New York and the Great Lakes region, and westward into Minnesota, northern Iowa and the Dakotas. In Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois the NCS is generally heard only in the northern counties; that is, in those areas included in the traditional Northern dialect region. This pattern is intriguing given that this dialect boundary, which divides the North from the Midlands, was established on the basis of older dialect forms collected over half a century ago. One major exception to the usual geographic restriction is seen in the appearance of NCS pronunciations in the Chicago-to-St. Louis corridor which takes the changes into the traditional Midland region. The origins of the NCS may lie in the cities, but the changes are certainly no longer limited to urban speech. In Michigan, for example, quite advanced forms of the shift are heard even in small towns and rural areas (see Gordon 2001; Ito 1999). The changes appear to follow a pattern of hierarchical diffusion, spreading across large cities, then to smaller cities, and eventually to small towns (Callary 1975).

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A number of studies have examined the sociolinguistic distribution of the NCS. This research has often found significant differences across gender lines with women’s speech displaying more advanced forms of the shift. Such a finding is consistent with the common sociolinguistic tendency of women to be in the vanguard of language change. Sociolinguistic studies have also found that the NCS is generally characteristic of white speech; for the most part African Americans and Latinos do not participate in these changes. Among other sociolinguistic effects, we might also expect to find class-based differences. The results on this score have been variable. Early research along these lines from a survey of Detroit suggested the changes are especially prevalent among the working and lower middle classes, or at least among women of these classes. Men showed very little class differentiation. A similar interaction of class and gender was also found in a later study by Eckert (2000) who conducted ethnographic research in a suburban Detroit high school. Eckert found that some of the changes in the NCS functioned primarily as markers of gender difference while others appeared to have associations with the class-based distinction of the Jocks and the Burnouts, the two main rival groups of students. Today the NCS can be heard in the speech of all social classes and even in the local broadcast media. As a final sociolinguistic observation, it should be noted that the NCS has acquired very little social awareness in the areas where it has become established. For the most part, speakers with the NCS do not recognize it as a distinctive feature of their region, though the NCS pronunciations are readily noticed by listeners from other areas. The lack of salience of these very distinctive vowel shifts among the native speakers of the Inland North may be related to the traditional position of the dialect as a kind of national norm in the form of “General American” (see above). The belief that their speech is “accentless” remains very common among Northerners (especially Michiganders) today. 5.3.

Consonants

Few distinctive consonantal features have been reported for the Inland North. The speech of the region has been and remains rhotic. The distinction between /hw/ and /w/ may be heard from some speakers but is clearly recessive. Alternations between the interdental fricatives, / / and / /, and stops, /t/ and /d/, characterize the speech of some urban speakers, and the choice of /
/ and /
n/ in –ing forms operates as a stylistic variable throughout the area. In addition to these features, which are common to many dialects, we note a pattern with a more restricted distribution: the devoicing of final obstruents in Chicago. This feature is a stereotype of working-class Chicago speech and is commonly illustrated by referring to the local football team as [d brs] “the Bears”, a stock pronunciation popularized by a television skit. The extent to which this devoicing occurs in less self-conscious usage has not been thoroughly studied.

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Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Ash, Sharon 1997 The vocalization of intervocalic /l/ in Philadelphia. In: Allen and Linn (eds), 330–43. Babbitt, E.H. 1896 The English of the lower classes in New York City and vicinity. Dialect Notes 1: 457–64. Callary, R.E. 1975 Phonological change and the development of an urban dialect in Illinois. Language in Society 4: 155–70. Eckert, Penelope 2000 Linguistic Variation and Social Practice. Oxford: Blackwell. Gordon, Matthew J. 2001 Small-Town Values and Big-City Vowels: A Study of the Northern Cities Shift in Michigan. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Hubbell, Allan F. 1950 The Pronunciation of English in New York City: Consonants and Vowels. New York: King’s Crown Press, Columbia University. Ito, Rika 1999 Diffusion of urban sound change in rural Michigan: A case of the Northern Cities Shift. Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Michigan State University. Thomas, C.K. 1935–7 Pronunciation in Upstate New York. American Speech 10: 107–12, 208–12, 292–97; 11: 68–77, 142–44, 307–13; 12: 122–27. 1942 Pronunciation in Downstate New York. American Speech 17: 30–41, 149-57. Tucker, R. Whitney 1944 Notes on the Philadelphia dialect. American Speech 19: 37–42.

Rural Southern white accents Erik R. Thomas*

1.

Introduction

If the “South” and “South Midland” dialect areas, as defined by Kurath (1949) and Kurath and McDavid (1961), are lumped as “Southern”, rural white Southern accents can be said to occur over a broad expanse of the United States. They occur throughout the southeastern part of the United States, excepting southern Florida, at least as far north as southern Maryland, central West Virginia, Kentucky, southern Missouri, and eastern and southern Oklahoma and perhaps as far west as western Texas and parts of eastern New Mexico. The exact limits are subject to disagreement; some researchers include northern West Virginia and the southern sections of Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, while others exclude western Texas. Southern English has received extensive attention from dialectologists, and a large number of sources, many of them gleaned from McMillan and Montgomery (1989), were consulted for this overview. Because of space limitations, few in-text citations are included and those that are included emphasize sources listed in the selected references. The full list of sources is given in the comprehensive bibliography, available on the CD accompanying this volume.

2.

Sociohistorical background

Within the vast territory in which Southern English is found, there is a considerable amount of dialectal diversity, especially in the South Atlantic states. The origins of this diversity are closely connected with the sociohistorical background of the region. Most of the Atlantic coastal sections were initially settled in the 17th and early 18th centuries by English colonists. Two areas, the Delmarva Peninsula and the Pamlico Sound area of North Carolina, remained relatively isolated from inland areas until the 20th century and show several dialectal features in common: rhoticity, failure of BATH and THOUGHT to diphthongize, backing of the nucleus of PRICE/PRIZE, and fronting of the glide of MOUTH/LOUD, among others. Two other coastal regions, one comprising the Tidewater and Piedmont sections of Virginia and adjacent counties in Maryland and North Carolina and the other consisting of the “Low Country” of the South Carolina and Georgia coastal plain, were settled mainly by the English and by African slaves and also show dialectal similarities to each other. These similarities include non-rhoticity and production of higher

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301

nuclei in MOUTH and PRICE than in LOUD and PRIZE. Each has (or had) its own features, though: for example, Virginia showed mutation of FACE to [E] in some words (e.g., make and afraid) and home pronounced with the FOOT vowel, while the Low Country showed ingliding forms of FACE and GOAT. During the 18th century, various non-English European groups began to settle the South. Numerous groups, including French Huguenots, Welsh, Highland Scots, Germans, Swiss, and Jews, clustered in limited areas. The major influx, however, was of Ulster Scots (Scotch-Irish). Large numbers of Ulster Scots migrated from Pennsylvania through the Great Valley of the Shenandoah River in Virginia or sailed to Charleston, South Carolina, mixing and, by the mid-19th century, intermarrying with English settlers who were moving inland and fanning out throughout the Piedmont and Appalachian regions. This mixture was aided by changes in religious affiliation because the organizational constraints of the older Presbyterian (Scottish) and Anglican/Episcopalian (English) denominations were too rigid to function well on the frontier and new denominations, mainly the Baptists and Methodists, attracted adherents from both backgrounds. In Piedmont sections, the Ulster Scots eventually adopted features such as non-rhoticity from their neighbors, and some adopted the plantation culture. In the southern Appalachians, though, the mixed Ulster Scot and English populations, who tended to live as hardscrabble farmers, maintained rhoticity. Much later, other features, such as glide weakening of PRICE (not just of PRIZE) developed in the Appalachians. During most of the 18th century, plantations concentrated on growing tobacco in Virginia and North Carolina and rice and indigo in the Low Country. Tobacco growing spread to Kentucky and Tennessee as those states were settled in the late 18th century, but in other areas, such as the Delmarva Peninsula, it was replaced by wheat culture, which was less reliant on slaves. Although tobacco plantations depended on slaves, slave holdings tended to be largest in the Low Country. In parts of the Low Country, whites made up less than 20% of the population. The invention of the cotton gin in 1793 brought drastic changes, creating a new plantation culture centered on cotton and allowing plantation agriculture (and slavery) to expand westward through the Gulf States during the early 19th century. The westward spread was aided by the forced removal of Native Americans to Oklahoma on the infamous “Trail of Tears” in 1838. Plantation areas typically showed certain dialectal features, particularly intrusive [j] in car [chjA˘], garden, etc. and non-rhoticity. Plantations occupied the better farmland, such as the Mississippi valley and the “Black Belt” of central Alabama, while poor white farmers predominated in less arable regions, such as the rugged terrain of northern Alabama and the sandy “Piney Woods” region that stretched from southern Georgia and northern Florida to southern Mississippi, with a disjunct area in western Louisiana and eastern Texas. One distinctive area was southern Louisiana, with its French influence and its sugar cane- and rice-based agriculture, but it is covered in a separate paper in this volume by Dubois and Horvath.

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Erik R. Thomas

West of the Mississippi, the plantation culture was largely restricted to the Mississippi valley and delta and the more fertile portions of eastern and southeastern Texas. Appalachian farmers, largely from Tennessee, settled the Ozarks. Germans settled parts of the Missouri and Mississippi valleys near St. Louis, and Kentuckyans and Virginians settled the “Little Dixie” region of Missouri north of the Missouri River. Various settlers, mostly from Tennessee and Arkansas, settled northern and central Texas, with a subsequent influx of Germans in central Texas. In southern Texas, these settlers encountered the already established Spanish-speaking Tejanos, though Anglo settlement of southern Texas was sparse until an agricultural boom occurred in the 1920s (Jordan 1984). Much of Oklahoma remained the “Indian Territory” until it was opened to white settlement in 1889, after which time settlers from Texas and Arkansas dominated its southern and eastern sections. The Civil War (1861-65) put an end to slave-based plantation agriculture in the South, leading to the tenant and sharecropper systems on farms (in which owners divided profits from crops with tenants or sharecroppers) and ultimately to the establishment of mills for processing cotton and tobacco (see, e.g., Woodward 1951; Cobb 1984). Textile mills appeared in numerous towns, especially in Piedmont areas from Virginia to Alabama, and many of these towns grew into cities. Cotton growing declined in that same region, shifting in large part to the Mississippi valley and Texas. The invention of cigarette machines and the introduction of fluecured tobacco led to large tobacco mills, primarily in North Carolina and Virginia, and a southward expansion of tobacco farming. Northern entrepreneurs also made timber a major industry throughout the South. Coal mining became a major industry in the Appalachians and mining towns sprang up there. Other industries, such as steel in Alabama, appeared locally. Expansion of railroads facilitated the growth. A demographic effect of these new industries was that it helped to inspire considerable migration of white workers toward mill towns. In addition, Texas received large numbers of migrants from other Southern states seeking new farmland after the Civil War, and not only did cotton expand there but extensive cattle ranches also covered much of western and southern Texas. It is possible that these movements played a role in the spread of several sound changes that previously occurred only locally, including the PIN/PEN merger, glide weakening of PRIZE, fronting of GOOSE, rounding of the nucleus of START, and, after 1900, lowering of the nuclei of FACE and GOAT. Until World War II, the South generally showed net out-migration. This trend was spurred by persistent, widespread poverty and also by specific events, such as boll weevil infestation and the Great Depression. Migration from some regions, especially Appalachia, continued after World War II, but a counter-trend began. The oil industry in Texas, Louisiana, and Oklahoma; the establishment of numerous military bases; the growth of businesses attracted by cheap labor; and the appearance of resort and retirement communities all attracted migrants from other parts of the United States (see, e.g., Cobb 1984). This contact with non-South-

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erners may have influenced some sound changes, such as the decline of [j] in words such as tune and news, the FORCE/NORTH merger, the spread of [o‘] in the ORANGE class, and the decline of triphthongization (a correlate of the “Southern drawl”) in MOUTH/LOUD, DRESS, and other classes. However, the growth and inmigration has been concentrated in urban centers, and rural areas have continued to struggle economically. In fact, the economic gap between urban and rural areas is still widening today. Rural areas now show traditionally Southern dialectal features to a greater degree than urban areas. Another event that may have influenced Southern dialectal patterns was the civil rights movement, particularly desegregation, which was accompanied by turmoil in the South from the 1950s through the 1970s. The civil rights struggle seems to have caused both African Americans and Southern whites to stigmatize linguistic variables associated with the other group. It coincides with the sudden spread among whites of GOAT fronting, which African Americans avoid, as well as with the reversal in which non-rhoticity changed from a prestigious to an unprestigious feature among whites. The latter change was probably also promoted by the influx of non-Southerners.

3.

Phonological systems

The phonological inventory is essentially the same as in other forms of North American English. Many Southerners distinguish the TRAP and BATH classes, though this distinction is disappearing. A number of distinctions, most notably those between NORTH and FORCE, between MARY and MERRY, and between W and HW (as in witch and which), persisted longer in the South than in most other parts of North America. The prosody of white Southern English follows patterns similar to that of white English in other parts of North America, albeit with a few special, interrelated features collectively called the “Southern drawl.” Table 1.

“Typical” rural white Southern vowels–summary

Older

Younger

KIT

I~i´>ï

I~i´

DRESS

E~e´~ e=i´

E~e´

TRAP

æ~æ=Eæ=

æ

LOT

A

A

STRUT

Œ>√

Œ

FOOT

U_~Y

U_~Y

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Erik R. Thomas

Table 1. (continued)

“Typical” rural white Southern vowels–summary

Older

Younger

BATH

æ=E

æ

DANCE

æ=E

e´

CLOTH

ço~AÅ

AÅ

NURSE

‘>å‘>ŒI

‘>å‘

FLEECE

i4i~Ii

i4i~Ii

FACE

Ei~æ=i

Ei~æ=i

PALM

A>æ

A~Åo

THOUGHT

ço~AÅ

AÅ

GOAT

ç±u~űu

Œy~Œu>æ=u

GOOSE

u4u±~y4u±

u4u±~y±u±~u4y±~y±y

PRICE

ai~a˘æ~a˘~A˘e

ai~a˘æ~a˘

PRIZE

a˘E~a˘æ~a˘

a˘E~a˘æ~a˘

CHOICE

oi~çoi>o˘E~o˘´

oi

MOUTH, LOUD

æç~æÅ~æ=EÅ>aÅ>æA

æç~æÅ>aÅ

NEAR

i=‘~i´

i=‘

SQUARE

æ‘~æ´~Ei‘~Ei´~ e4‘

e4‘

START

Å‘~Å˘

Å‘>A‘

NORTH

ç‘~ç´~ço‘~ço´~ço

o‘

FORCE

o‘~o´~ou‘~ou´~ou

o‘

CURE

u‘~u´~U‘~U´>o‘

u‘>‘

FIRE

aæ‘~aæ´~a˘‘~a˘å>Å‘

aæ‘~a˘‘

POWER

æç‘~æç´>Å‘

aç‘

happY

I~i

i

lettER

‘~´

‘

horsES

I~ï

I~I_

commA

´

´

HAND

æ~æ=Eæ=

e´

PIN/PEN

I~i´

I~i´

THINK, LENGTH

I>Ei~æ=i

I~Ii

Rural Southern white accents

Table 1. (continued)

“Typical” rural white Southern vowels–summary

Older

Younger

GOING

ç±u~űu

ç±u~űu

GOAL

ç±u~űu

ç±u~űu

POOL

u~u

U=~u

PULL

U

U=~u

FEEL

i4i

I~i´~i4i

FILL

I~i´

I~i´~I_

FAIL

Ei~æ=i~ei

ei~E

FELL

E~ei

E

MARRY

æ

e4

MERRY

E

e4

MARY

ei~E

e4

MIRROR/NEARER

I~ i=

i=

TOMORROW

A~Å

A~Å

ORANGE

A~Å

A~Å~o

3.1.

305

Prosodic features

Two prosodic features of rural Southern English are commonly remarked upon: the “Southern drawl” and the tendency to place stress to the initial syllable of particular words. The Southern drawl is defined variously, and it has even been dismissed by some as nothing more than a stereotype. It is probably best described as prolongation of certain stressed vowels and diphthongs, often accompanied by breaking of and exaggerated pitch rises in those vocoids. Although the phenomenon has not been studied as extensively as it could have been, there seems to be adequate evidence that it exists. It is widespread in Southern white English. Nevertheless, it seems to be more observable in the speech of Southerners born before 1960 than in the speech of those born afterward, though published evidence for such a trend is lacking. The exaggerated pitch peaks that have been noted as a correlate of the Southern drawl are the main intonational feature noted for white Southern English. These peaks occur in heavily stressed syllables. In other respects, Southern intonation patterns seem to be similar to those in other forms of American English, though little research on them has been carried out.

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The other oft-noted aspect of Southern prosody, placement of primary stress on initial syllables, occurs for some speakers in words such as cement, police, hotel, pecan, July, December, Detroit, and Monroe for which other varieties of English do not show primary stress on the initial syllable. This feature has become a stereotype of Southern English, both white and African American. As a result, it is recessive for most words, but for at least one, insurance, it has become a marker of Southern identity and is still common. In a number of additional words, such as theater and peanut, many Southerners show a secondary stress that is absent in other varieties of English. This tendency is also stereotyped and recessive. Other features of stress and rhythm, such as the relative degree of stress timing and syllable timing, have not been investigated in Southern English. Dialect-specific voice quality features also deserve some attention. 3.2.

Lexical distribution

A large number of words show a phonemic incidence that is associated with Southern English. Many such words are discussed in Kurath and McDavid (1961) and the Linguistic Atlas of the Gulf States (Pederson et al. 1986-92, henceforth LAGS). For some of these words, the pronunciation is widespread but is stereotypically associated with the South; examples are get pronounced [gIt] and just pronounced [dZIst]. Other cases are pronunciations that were once widespread but have receded and are now–in North America at least–largely restricted to the South. Examples are rather as [®√ð‘], further as [f√ð‘], radish as [®ERIS], kettle as [khIt…], drain as [d®in], sumac as [Sumæk], and haunt as [hænt]. This group, as a rule, occurs mostly among older, less-educated speakers. There are also variants whose primary distribution has long been the South, though many of them once had some currency elsewhere. The viability of these items varies. Some are highly recessive, e.g., put as [ph√t], coop and Cooper as [khUp] and [khUp‘/´] respectively, shut as [SEt], and pasture pronounced to rhyme with master. Others are still used by many younger speakers, such as grease (verb) and greasy as [g®iz(i)], naked as [nEkId], can’t rhyming with faint, on pronounced as own, and perhaps Mrs. as [mIz(Iz)], though these usages are probably receding slowly. Lexical incidence in certain groups of words has attracted particular attention from dialectologists. One is a group of words that vary between the LOT and THOUGHT classes. Southerners who distinguish LOT and THOUGHT consistently produce on with the THOUGHT or GOAT vowels, not with the LOT vowel. Long and words rhyming with it formerly grouped with LOT in parts of Virginia and North Carolina but with THOUGHT elsewhere, though the THOUGHT variant has probably encroached on the LOT island. For words spelled –og, dog consistently groups with THOUGHT but other words (fog, hog, log, etc.) vary, generally grouping with LOT in coastal plain areas and with THOUGHT in inland areas. Among words spelled wawant with the THOUGHT vowel is particularly associated with the South. Swamp,

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307

wasp, and, in coastal plain areas, water also typically show THOUGHT (Kurath and McDavid 1961) but are less stereotyped than want with THOUGHT. Some younger speakers may be substituting the LOT vowel in these words. In addition, there are a few function words (was, what, of, anybody, nobody, somebody, and everybody) that have been shifting in North American English from LOT to STRUT. In was, what, and of and possibly in -body words, the LOT pronunciation has survived longer in the South than elsewhere, though it is giving way now. Similarly, because is shifting from THOUGHT to STRUT, though the THOUGHT form is still common in the South. 3.3.

Vowels

Virtually every vowel class shows distinctive variants in rural white Southern English. A number of processes, such as triphthongization, glide weakening of PRIZE and PRICE, upgliding forms of THOUGHT and BATH, and the PIN/PEN merger, have become more or less stereotypical of Southern speech. One assemblage of vowel shifts, dubbed the Southern Shift, has attracted prominent attention recently; see especially Labov (1991, 1994) and Labov, Ash and Boberg (fc.). It consists of several different shifts that are associated with each other. PRIZE, and often PRICE as well, undergo glide weakening to [a˘E~a˘] or, as in the Pamlico Sound region, become backed to [A˘e~Å˘e]. The tense/lax front vowel pairs switch places: the nuclei of FACE and FLEECE become non-peripheral and fall, while KIT and DRESS become peripheral and rise toward [i] and [e], respectively. The nucleus of GOAT may fall, and GOAT and GOOSE become fronted. Finally, THOUGHT is either diphthongized to something like [ço] or raised toward [o]. It should be noted that the different components of the Southern Shift have not spread through the South at the same time. Shifting of THOUGHT may date from the late 18th or early 19th centuries and glide weakening of PRIZE apparently dates from the late 19th century, while fronting of GOAT spread mostly after World War II. The following descriptions discuss the different variants that occur in various parts of the South, giving their general distributions across time, space, and social groups. Social distribution is poorly known for many of these forms, though some information is available in LAGS and various smaller-scale studies. Traditionally, the glides of upgliding diphthongs have been transcribed with lax vowel symbols, e.g., [I] and [U]. Acoustic measurements, however, show that upgliding diphthongs normally glide toward the periphery of the vowel envelope; see Thomas (2001). Hence these glides are usually transcribed here with tense vowel symbols. Similarly, acoustic measurements indicate that what have traditionally been called “ingliding” diphthongs actually glide both inward and downward, so that a form denoted as [e´] is probably better described as [eE=] or [eæ=]. Much of the information discussed below is taken from Thomas (2001) or from sources referenced therein.

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KIT

Realizations of KIT vary. In the Southern shift, KIT may be tensed and raised to [i], usually with an inglide, i.e., [i´]. This process is most common in heavily stressed syllables. Under weak stress, a value of [I] is usual. The tensing/raising is uncommon in some regions, such as Texas. In older Southern speech, centralized forms, i.e., [

], were common in certain words, such as sister, thistle, and ribbon, in which a schwa was present in the following syllable. See below under PIN/PEN and THINK for developments before nasals. DRESS

This vowel shows some variation related to the Southern Shift. Considerable variation between the widespread form [ε] and the Southern Shift form [e] occurs, the latter often with an inglide. Under heavy stress, particularly before /d/, as in dead, middle-aged and older speakers often show a triphthongal form, [e=i´]. For the development of this vowel before nasals, see below under PIN/PEN and LENGTH. TRAP

An unshifted form, [æ], is common, but the Southern drawl results in triphthongal forms such as [æ=εæ=], especially before /d/ and /n/. Speakers born between the World Wars may also show some raising of TRAP to [ε]. For other raising, see below under DANCE/HAND. Both the triphthongization and the raising are subsiding among young Southern whites. A few younger speakers from, e.g., Texas, who show the LOT/THOUGHT merger have TRAP shifted toward [a], but this retraction is not yet as common as in some non-Southern regions (e.g., California and Canada), though it is increasing in parts of the Midwest on the margins of the South (e.g., central Ohio). LOT

This vowel is among the most stable in rural Southern white English, being realized as low back unrounded [A]. Rounded [Å] variants were reported for old-fashioned South Carolina Low Country speech. In some areas, THOUGHT is being merged into LOT (see below under THOUGHT). STRUT

The most common realization is the [Œ] that predominates in most North American English. In former plantation areas, a more backed form, [√], is common among middle-aged and older speakers, but it appears to be recessive. Fronting to [ε=] is sometimes reported. Raising to [´] occurs for occasional speakers. FOOT

This vowel varies on a gradient from central [U_] to fronted [Y]. The full range of variants occurs within most age groups and social levels. The degree of fronting of FOOT is usually correlated with the degree of fronting of GOOSE and GOAT.

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BATH, DANCE

Most younger Southerners make no distinction between BATH and TRAP. White Southerners born before World War II, however, often do distinguish the two classes, though in a way unique to the American South. For such speakers, BATH shows an upglide. The most common realization is [æ=ε], but variations such as [æ=e] and [aæ] occur. Some speakers who show these forms also show lowering of the FACE vowel; they distinguish pairs such as pass and pace by the height of the glide, which is mid for BATH words and high for FACE words. Many Southerners produce the same [æ=E] diphthong in the DANCE class (i.e., words in which RP shows [A˘] before a nasal/obstruent cluster). Upgliding BATH and DANCE forms are widespread in the South Atlantic states, but are absent in three areas: around the Chesapeake Bay, around the Pamlico Sound, and in the Low Country of South Carolina. In the Gulf states, they occur everywhere–except perhaps southern Louisiana–but are most common in the Appalachian and Ozark Mountains and in the Piney Woods belt. In a number of BATH and DANCE words – today usually only aunt or rather but in former times many others, such as pasture – some speakers show the vowel of START (in non-rhotic varieties) or LOT. This tendency most likely originated as an imitation of fashionable British usage rather than as a trait inherited from the earliest settlers. It is most prevalent in eastern Virginia. CLOTH

This class is always merged with THOUGHT (see below). NURSE

White Southern speech is increasingly rhotic, and stressed syllabic /r – i.e., NURSE – is the most likely context for rhoticity in syllable rhymes. The details of /r/ articulation are discussed below under R in the section on consonants. In older white Southern speech, though, non-rhotic forms of NURSE occurred. From South Carolina to Texas and north to eastern Arkansas and the southern edge of Kentucky, an upgliding form, [ŒI], once predominated, but very few speakers born after 1930 show it and it is thus nearly obsolete. A few Southerners from the same region, usually from high social strata, showed a monophthongal [Œ]. The monophthongal form also occurred in eastern Virginia and adjacent parts of Maryland and North Carolina, but a weakly rhotic variant was more common there. For rhotic speakers, a different diphthongization of NURSE can appear in which the variants [Œ‘~å‘] occur. This widening tends to co-occur with widening of the FACE and GOAT diphthongs. FLEECE

Unless it is truncated–as would happen with weak stress or rapid speech–the FLEECE vowel is slightly diphthongal. In white Southern speech, diphthongal forms vary from the [ i+i] form that predominates in other parts of North America to

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wider [Ii] forms. The latter are most common in areas in which the FACE nucleus is strongly lowered, especially eastern Tennessee and much of Alabama (Labov, Ash and Boberg fc.). Variants that are even wider, such as [´i], are rare. FACE

This vowel shows more variation in the South than in any other part of North America. In the past, a monophthongal form, [e3˘], occurred inconsistently in plantation areas. In the Low Country of South Carolina/Georgia, the monophthong occurred in pre-pausal position and ingliding [e3´] occurred in other contexts. These forms are now nearly obsolete, though the nucleus of FACE has remained higher in the Low Country than in other parts of the South. Today, lowering and/or retraction of the nucleus are widespread in rural white Southern speech. The shift may be moderate–i.e., [εi – or more extreme – i.e., [æ=i~Œi]. The more extreme forms are found largely in areas in which PRICE is monophthongal in all contexts, which include the southern Appalachians, the Ozarks, Texas, the Piney Woods belt, and parts of the North Carolina coastal plain. The more moderately shifted forms tend to occur where PRICE remains diphthongal before voiceless consonants. PALM

In contemporary Southern English, these words are nearly always merged with LOT or, with the l pronounced (as a spelling pronunciation), with THOUGHT–e.g., [phÅç…m]~[phÅom] (the latter with vocalized l). In the past, PALM was commonly merged with the TRAP or BATH classes, and occasional survivals of this usage, such as the term slick ca’m ‘unrippled water,’ persist locally. In the South Carolina Low Country, even pa and ma were once produced with [æ]. Merger of PALM with START in non-rhotic areas, especially eastern Virginia, also occurred sporadically. THOUGHT

Upgliding forms of THOUGHT/CLOTH, [ço~Åo~AÅ], are stereotypically associated with Southern speech in general. The actual picture, of course, is more complicated. There are a few Atlantic coastal areas – the eastern shore of the Chesapeake Bay, the Pamlico Sound area, and the South Carolina/Georgia Low Country–in which upgliding forms did not traditionally occur; instead, raised, monophthongal [ç3] occurred. In the rest of the South, upgliding forms predominate, but there have always been many speakers who used monophthongal forms exclusively, and raised monophthongs are common after [w], as in want and water. In older speech, raised, upgliding forms, [ço], were common, though some speakers showed wider diphthongization, such as [Åo] or even [Ao]. During the 20th century there was apparently a trend toward lower variants, and today the most common form is [AÅ]. Merger of THOUGHT/CLOTH with LOT has been spreading recently in the South, especially in two areas: an Appalachian area including West Virginia, western Virginia, and eastern Kentucky and a western area extending from Texas and Okla-

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homa east through Arkansas, middle and western Missouri, and the vicinity of Memphis, Tennessee. Occasional speakers elsewhere show it as well. The result is a realization as [A]. A possible stigma against upgliding variants may promote the merger. GOAT GOAT shows several different developments. Analogously with FACE, monoph-

thongal [o3˘] once occurred inconsistently in plantation areas, and the monophthong alternated with ingliding [o3´] in the South Carolina/Georgia Low Country. As with the corresponding variants of FACE, these forms have nearly disappeared. Lowering of the nucleus and fronting of both the nucleus and glide of GOAT have become widespread over the past century. Lowered but unfronted forms, [ç±u~űu], became common in the early 20th century and are still found among many older speakers. Fronted forms apparently originated in northeastern North Carolina during the 19th century and spread slowly at first. This fronting affected both the nucleus and the glide, yielding [Œy]. Fronting only of the nucleus also spread slowly from Pennsylvania into Maryland, West Virginia, and southern Ohio. Since World War II, fronting has spread rapidly. Fronting of the nucleus is now found throughout the South among young whites. In combination with lowering, it yields forms as extreme as [æ=u], though [Œu] is more common. Fronting of the glide is common as far west as Tennessee and Alabama but is less frequent west of the Mississippi River and quite rare in Texas; its northern limits are uncertain. It is possible that both fronting processes, at least in certain areas, are more prevalent among females than among males. In certain contexts the GOAT vowel is not usually fronted; see below under GOAL and GOING. GOOSE

When fully stressed, the GOOSE vowel is slightly diphthongal in Southern English. Some degree of fronting is associated with the nucleus of GOOSE in virtually all forms of white Southern English. The nucleus may vary from a central to a front position. Fronting of the glide also occurs and is more common in the eastern half of the South. Variants include [u4u±~y±u±] (without fronting of the glide) and [u4y±~y4y] (with fronting of the glide). PRICE, PRIZE

Monophthongization of PRICE (i.e., /ai/ before voiceless consonants) and, especially, PRIZE (i.e., other phonetic contexts of /ai/) is stereotypically associated with the American South. However, glide weakening is a more accurate term because it encompasses both monophthongal forms and variants with a glide that is only partly truncated, both of which are perceived as “flattened” by outsiders. Both forms are common and widespread.

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Glide weakening has, since the late 19th century, occurred throughout the South except for a few Atlantic coastal areas, and even there it has shown signs of encroaching recently. Where weakening occurs, it consistently affects contexts before liquids most strongly and those before voiceless consonants least strongly, but the relative strength of the effects of following pauses, nasals, and voiced obstruents is a matter of dispute. Weakening produces forms such as [a˘ε~a˘æ], leading ultimately to monophthongal [a˘]. Some speakers show forms such as [æ˘] and [A±˘], but [a˘] is more usual. Weakening before voiceless consonants (PRICE) is geographically and socially restricted. It is found mainly in Appalachia (south to northern Alabama), Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas, the Piney Woods Belt, and parts of the North Carolina coastal plain, but some working class speakers elsewhere show it. It has long been associated with working-class speech, and hence many upper-middle class speakers avoid it. Weakening in any context (PRICE or PRIZE) is apparently declining around the margins of the South, such as in Maryland and Oklahoma. Speakers with aspirations of upward white-collar mobility often avoid it, though such avoidance is not as prevalent in rural areas as in urban areas. Glide weakening was traditionally absent on the eastern shore of the Chesapeake Bay, around the Pamlico Sound, and in the Low Country of South Carolina and Georgia. In the former two areas, backing of the nucleus occurred instead in all contexts. Forms such as [A˘e] were usual, with [Å˘e] and [åAe] occurring sporadically. Backing occurred for PRIZE in the Low Country. Such backing also occurs widely in the South before voiceless consonants (PRICE) where that context remains diphthongal. Another variation reported from older speech in Tidewater and Piedmont Virginia and the South Carolina/Georgia Low Country for contexts before voiceless consonants is [åi], with a higher nucleus. Acoustic analyses indicate that only some speakers from those areas showed [åi]. CHOICE

Although the widespread [oi~çi] forms are common in the South, two mutations occur in the South but not elsewhere in North America (except in varieties with Southern roots, such as African American English). The first is breaking, which results in triphthongs such as [çoi] and [Åoi]. The second is lowering and/or weakening of the glide, resulting in forms such as [o˘ε] and [o˘´]. The latter process is found most often in former plantation areas. Both processes occur mainly for speakers born before 1960. However, before /l/, as in boil, glide weakening is widespread among all age groups and monophthongization to [o] is common. The alternation in which certain CHOICE words derived from Middle English /ui/, e.g., join and poison, show the PRIZE vowel is highly recessive except in hoist/heist.

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MOUTH, LOUD

Fronting of the nucleus and lowering of the glide, resulting in [æç~æÅ] and, in some areas, [æA], are widespread in white Southern English. Not all speakers show the fronting, and most speakers show [aÅ] under weak stress. In two areas – the South Carolina/Georgia Low Country and southern Louisiana – fronting was traditionally absent. Many speakers born before 1960 show breaking, resulting in triphthongal [æ=εÅ]. Two local variations occurred in traditional dialects, though both are recessive today. In the Tidewater and Piedmont sections of Virginia and adjacent parts of Maryland and North Carolina, as well as in the South Carolina/Georgia Low Country, positional variation developed. Before voiced consonants and word-finally (LOUD), the variants described above occurred. Before voiceless consonants (MOUTH), both the nucleus and the glide were higher. The glide also tended to be fronted, with the result of [Œu~Œy]. On the Delmarva Peninsula and around the Pamlico Sound, fronting of the glide occurred with low nuclei in most contexts. The nuclei tended not to be much fronted. Common variants there were [aP~aø~aε]. NEAR

The common variants are [i=‘] and [i´]. In some areas, [j‘] was once a common alternant in certain words, e.g., beard. In old-fashioned South Carolina/Georgia Low Country speech, NEAR and SQUARE were merged to [e´], but contact with other Southern dialects has reversed this merger. SQUARE

A wide variety of variants occur in older Southern speech. Lowering of the nucleus, resulting in [æ‘] for rhotic speakers and [æ´] for non-rhotic speakers, was once widespread, though today it is mainly heard among middle-aged and older speakers in regions far from urban centers, such as the Pamlico Sound area and the southern Appalachians. It never occurred in the South Carolina/Georgia Low Country, however, where [e´] was usual. Breaking was common as well, especially in non-rhotic areas, where forms such as [εi´] and even [æiæ=] could be heard. Young white Southerners have abandoned this diversity and uniformly show a quality of approximately [e4‘]. START

Southern English, both rhotic and non-rhotic, shows a marked tendency toward rounding of the nucleus of START, resulting in values of [Å‘] or [Å˘]. This process is probably a 19th century development. There may be some stigma against the rounding today, as some young whites seem to be moving toward unrounded nuclei.

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NORTH NORTH remained distinct from FORCE in most parts of the South until recently.

Usual pronunciations were [ç‘~ço‘] in rhotic speech and [ç´~ço´~ço] in nonrhotic speech. In certain areas–the Delmarva Peninsula, parts of the Mississippi and Ohio valleys, and Texas–many speakers merged NORTH with START as [Å‘]. On the Delmarva Peninsula, this merger dates from the 19th century and may have been a majority variant, but in Texas, it mainly comprises speakers born between the World Wars and was never a majority variant. Its demographics in the Mississippi and Ohio valleys are unclear. Over the course of the 20th century, the NORTH/ FORCE merger gradually spread throughout the South. Very few Southerners born after World War II distinguish NORTH and FORCE. The result of this merger is a value of approximately [o‘]. FORCE

In older Southern speech, FORCE could show variable diphthongization, i.e., [o‘~ou‘] in rhotic varieties and [o´~ou´~ou] in non-rhotic ones. Younger white rural Southerners seldom show upgliding in FORCE, the usual variant being [o‘]. See above on the merger of FORCE and NORTH. CURE

Merger of the vowels of CURE and FORCE became a stereotype for some older rural Southern speech, especially in Appalachia. As a result, most Southerners came to avoid it except for words spelled –oor (e.g., poor, boor, Moore), for which usage varies. Thus [u‘~U‘] predominates, especially in words such as tour. After palatals, as in cure and sure, and in non-final syllables, as in tournament and Missouri, merger with the NURSE class is common among young speakers in some areas, such as Texas and Missouri. Such speakers follow a pattern increasingly common in other parts of North America. This CURE/NURSE merger tends to show considerable style shifting; many speakers who show the merger in casual speech pronounce CURE words with [u‘~U‘] when their attention is drawn to it. FIRE

For a large number of speakers, FIRE follows the pattern of PRICE/PRIZE, with glide weakening resulting in [aæ‘~a˘‘] in rhotic varieties and [aæå~a˘å] in nonrhotic ones. Many speakers, however, show merger of FIRE with START, resulting in [Å‘~A‘~Å˘~A˘]. This merger is highly stereotyped and, consequently, is most typical of older, working-class, and less educated speakers. Some speakers show hypercorrection of glide weakening for FIRE, resulting in [aj‘]. POWER

For most speakers, power follows the same pattern as MOUTH/LOUD. Some speakers show loss of the glide before /r/, resulting in [æ‘], especially in the

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word our. Our is more commonly merged into the START class – in fact, this variant of our is quite general in North America – but for other words merger of POWER with START occurs infrequently, mostly among the same groups who merge FIRE with START. happY Although [I] in happY persisted longer in the South than in other parts of North America, the shift to [i] is now essentially complete and only speakers in a few isolated communities (such as islands in the Chesapeake Bay) and some older speakers elsewhere still show [I]. The final vowels of many other words, such as borrow, soda, okra, and Sarah, were once commonly pronounced with [I~i] in the rural South, especially among speakers with less education, but this process is now highly recessive. lettER The general distribution of rhotic and non-rhotic varieties and the wholesale shift to rhoticity in white Southern speech are discussed below under R. Unstressed syllables are the most likely contexts for non-rhoticity, and some varieties that show consistent rhoticity in other contexts show variable non-rhoticity in unstressed syllables. In older speech, the commA vowel, both historical, as in idea, and derived from GOAT, as in hollow, is commonly produced as [‘].

horsES A value of [I], perhaps better described as central [
], is usual. However, the exact quality is highly affected by coarticulation with neighboring segments.

commA This vowel tends to be lower than the horsES vowel, closer to [´], but, like horsES, it is strongly affected by context. On the production of some commA words with [I~i], see above under happY; on production as [‘], see above under lettER. HAND

Younger white Southerners follow the widespread North American trend of raising /æ/ before nasals to something like [e´]. This process includes words of the DANCE class, whose earlier development is discussed above. Older Southerners often showed triphthongal [æEæ] forms. PIN/PEN

The merger of the KIT and DRESS vowels before nasals, as in pin and pen, is strongly associated with Southern speech, though it also occurs among some whites in the southern Midwest and California and among African Americans everywhere.

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The resulting merged vowel is usually closer to [I] in quality, though a few speakers have it closer to [ε]. The merger apparently grew from a sporadic feature of a few speakers to a majority feature during the late 19th century and continued to spread during the 20th century. Today, however, some Southerners, largely under the influence of schools, have begun to distinguish PIN and PEN. THINK, LENGTH

Before [N], as in think and thing, some Southerners diphthongize the KIT vowel and lower the nucleus to yield [Ei~æ=i]. The same process may apply to LENGTH, which otherwise is usually pronounced with [I]. GOING

In hiatus positions, as in going, go out, so is…, etc., fronting of the GOAT vowel does not occur for many speakers who otherwise front. The same may be true for GOOSE, as in do it. Fronting may also be blocked before nasals, as in grown and don’t. GOAL

The back vowels are seldom fronted before /l/, especially by younger speakers. Thus, GOAL is rarely if ever fronted. Common realizations are [çu~Åu]. POOL, PULL

Although many older white Southerners show fronting of POOL, younger Southerners almost never do. PULL consistently remains backed. POOL and PULL are commonly merged by younger speakers throughout the South; the resulting vowel is [U=~u4]. FEEL, FILL

These two classes are also merged by many younger Southerners, ordinarily to [I] or to a quality intermediate between [i] and [I]. FAIL, FELL

Merger of these two classes also occurs, though less often than that of the other two pre-/l/ pairs. The resulting vowel is usually [E]. MARRY, MERRY, MARY

These classes were once kept distinct by most Southerners, with qualities of [æ], [E], and [ei~e], respectively. Younger Southerners have shown a wholesale trend toward merging all three into the SQUARE class. Merger of MARY with MERRY has proceeded faster than merger of MARRY with the other two classes.

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MIRROR/NEARER

Published evidence on this opposition is scarce for Southern English. Young white Southerners, in general, appear to merge them. TOMORROW, ORANGE

The stressed vowel in these classes was formerly produced with [A~Å], the LOT or START vowel, throughout the South. It still is for words in which the /r/ is followed by a vowel in an open syllable, such as tomorrow and sorry. However, for words in which the /r/ is followed by a vowel in a closed syllable, such as orange, foreign, and horrible, there is a trend toward [o], the FORCE/NORTH vowel. This trend appears stronger in some areas (e.g., Texas and Virginia) than in others (e.g., the Carolinas). 3.4.

Consonants

R

/r/, when it is articulated in the South, is articulated much as in other North American Englishes. The ordinary form is the “bunched-tongue r,” produced with constrictions by the tongue root (in the pharynx), the tongue dorsum (to the velum or palate), and – in syllable onsets – the lips as well. The currency of the competing variant, the “retroflex r” (produced with the pharyngeal constriction and with retroflection of the tongue tip) is difficult to assess but seems far less common. Production of the bunched-tongue r often results in latent retroflection. One other variant, the tap [R], may have occurred in some older Southern speech after [θ], as in three, but the evidence is unclear. Postvocalic /r/ is the most heavily studied consonantal variable in Southern English, and it shows rich contextual, geographical, socioeconomic, diachronic, ethnic, and stylistic conditioning. It also shows continuous gradation from fully rhotic to fully non-rhotic variants. In terms of phonetic context, non-rhoticity is most frequent in unstressed syllables; see above on the lettER class. Non-rhoticity may occur variably in this context in areas such as the Pamlico Sound region and Appalachia that are otherwise rhotic, and, as rhoticity has increased recently, unstressed syllables are often the last context to become rhotic. The next most frequent environment for non-rhoticity is in syllable codas, whether word-finally (four, here) or pre-consonantally (hard, fourth). Linking r, as in here is [hi‘ Iz], has historically been absent for a large number of Southerners, though some speakers showed it, often variably. Intrusive linking r in other hiatus positions, as in saw-r it, is virtually unknown in the South, in part because intrusive l may occur in such contexts. Rhoticity tends to be more frequent after front vowels (e.g., here, there) than after back vowels (four, hard). Stressed, syllabic r, the NURSE class, is more likely to be rhotic than r in syllable codas; see above under NURSE. Some older Southerners are also variably non-rhotic in intra-word intervocalic contexts,

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as in carry [khæi]. Deletion of r occurs as well for some speakers between [θ] and a rounded vowel in throw and through and after a consonant in some unstressed syllables, e.g., the initial syllable of professor. Deletion of r in certain words before coronal consonants, as in the widespread forms bust, cuss, and gal for burst, curse, and girl, respectively, and ass and bass (fish) for earlier arse and barse, as well as dialectal forms such as futher, catridge, and passel for further, cartridge, and parcel, is not properly considered to be non-rhoticity, since it arose earlier from assimilation. Nor is the dissimilation that results in deletion of the first r in words such as surprise, governor, temperature, veterinarian, and caterpillar properly considered non-rhoticity. Both processes are common in the South, though forms such as passel are recessive. Geographically, non-rhoticity is strongly correlated with former plantation areas. Non-rhoticity formerly predominated in Tidewater and Piedmont Virginia and adjacent parts of southwestern Maryland and northern North Carolina; in a band stretching from South Carolina across the Georgia Piedmont through central Alabama and central Mississippi; throughout the Mississippi River lowlands as far north as Kentucky, extending to include the western two thirds of Kentucky and western and north-central Tennessee, and thence west to include Gulf coastal plain sections of Texas; and in some coastal communities in Georgia and the Gulf states. Much of North Carolina and parts of central and even western Texas showed mixed patterns. The principal rhotic sections were the Delmarva Peninsula; the Pamlico Sound region of North Carolina; the southern Appalachians, extending to northern Alabama; the Ozarks, Oklahoma, and northern Texas; and the Piney Woods region of the southern parts of Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi, northern Florida, western Louisiana, and eastern Texas. None of these areas was monolithic, however, and the Piney Woods region, especially, showed mixture. The socioeconomic and diachronic aspects of rhoticity in the South are intertwined. Various studies, notably McDavid (1948), Levine and Crockett (1966), Harris (1969), and Feagin (1990), have suggested that rhoticity has undergone a shift in prestige. Before World War II, non-rhoticity was prestigious, appearing most frequently among higher social levels and spreading (except, perhaps, in NURSE words). Afterward, rhoticity became prestigious and non-rhoticity became most common among lower social levels. Females have forged ahead of males in this change. Today, even in areas that were once strongholds of non-rhoticity, young white Southerners are rhotic, especially females. Predictably, rhoticity increases with stylistic formality. It should be noted that the dramatic increase in rhoticity applies only to white Southerners; African Americans remain largely non-rhotic except in the NURSE class, and, as discussed previously, social polarization of the two ethnicities magnified during the civil rights movement may be related to the divergence in rhoticity.

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L

Although American English is often reported to show a “clear” [l] in syllable onsets and a “dark,” or velar, […] in syllable codas, articulatory evidence suggests that American English shows a velar form in syllable onsets, and Southern English follows this pattern. In syllable codas, vocalization occurs. The term vocalization has been used loosely. It has been applied to what would be better referred to as deletion, as in [wUf] for wolf. This deletion may occur before labials (except [b]), and the forms [hEp] for help, [sEf] in -self compounds, [thwev] for twelve, and [houp] for holp (old preterit of help) are stereotypically Southern. True vocalization of syllable-coda l is widespread in North American English and seems to be particularly common in the South. The result is a phone with the value of [o] or [w], as in fill [fIo]. This phone is sometimes described as [µ] but is normally rounded. The acoustic similarity between […] and [w] has made vocalization of l difficult to study, and hence details of its distribution are unavailable. Linking […] is apparently common in hiatus positions, as in sell it [sEo…I/t]. Intrusive […], as in saw it [sAÅ…I/t], is known to occur irregularly. However, vocalization can also occur in hiatus. Older Southern speech did show a truly “clear” [l] in one context: between front vowels, as in silly, Billy, and Nelly. Some elderly Southerners still show this variant. KJAR, GJAR

During the 19th century, insertion of [j] in such words as car [chjA˘~ chjA‘], garden, and Carter was widespread in coastal plain and Piedmont sections of the South, though perhaps less so in the Appalachians. This variation probably began to decline in the late 19th century and has now entirely disappeared. JU

In words with historical [iu~ju] after coronal stops, as in tune, duke, and news, [j] has persisted in the South longer than in any other part of the United States (though it still appears elsewhere as an affectation). Kurath and McDavid (1961), whose sample consisted almost entirely of speakers born in the 19th century, showed [ju] and its variants ([iu], [dZu], [tSu]) as nearly universal in the Southern states. Since World War II, however, a steady movement toward loss of [j] in the South has occurred. The loss has been slower in common words than in infrequent words. Findings differ on whether males or females lead in this change. TH

Rural white southern English shows all of the mutations of /θ/ and /ð/ that African American speech is better known for, but they generally do not occur as often. Thus /θ/ may be realized as [t~tθ], usually by lower-status speakers, or, in syllable codas (e.g., both, birthday), occasionally as [f]. The [f] variant is much rarer in

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white speech than in African American speech. Mutations of /ð/ are more common. Realizations of /ð/ as [d~dð] may be increasing among young white males, though more study is needed. Assimilation of /ð/ to a preceding consonant, as in in nere for in there or up pat hill for up that hill, is fairly common. None of these variants can be described as a strictly Southern phenomenon. SHR

In words such as shrimp, shrink, and shrub, many white Southerners produce [s®] instead of [S®]. Early reports of this feature were from the South Atlantic states, especially Virginia. In the Gulf States, LAGS found it to be widespread but most heavily concentrated in the Piedmont and Piney Woods regions. Surprisingly, LAGS found little correlation of [s®] with sex, age, education, or social status. ZN, VN

Before n, voiced fricatives often undergo assimilation and become voiced stops. The result is forms such as idn’t, wadn’t, and bidness for isn’t, wasn’t, and business, respectively, and sebem and elebem for seven and eleven (with assimilation of /n/ to the labial place of articulation as well). Theoretically, this process might also affect /ðn/, as in heathen. The assimilation is most frequent in common words. It is sometimes reported as being specifically Southern, but in fact is far more widespread. TAPS and FLAPS

Like other North Americans, Southerners produce intervocalic coronal stops as a tap or flap [R]. This process normally occurs when the stop falls after any vowel or [‘] and before a heterosyllabic vowel or [‘], as in batty [bæR.i], sit out [sIR.æç/t], Ida [a˘R.´], hardy [hÅ‘R.i], and inner [I)R).‘]. It does not occur before a tautosyllabic vocoid, e.g., attain [´.thEin], go tell [gŒu.thEo], and a tamale [´.th´mA…i], except for unstressed to and don’t, e.g., go to [gŒu.R´] and I don’t [a˘.Ro)n/t]. It also affects nt clusters, as in Santa [se)´)R).´] and enter [I)R).‘]. Technically speaking, a tap occurs after a vowel and a flap after [‘] or a tap + vowel (e.g., in additives, in which the is tapped and the flapped). Some Southerners extend tapping/flapping to one additional context: before unstressed /n/. They produce important as [Im. pho‘R.In/t] and get in a as [gIR.IR).´] instead of as the more widespread pronunciations [Im.pho‘/t.n`/t] and [gI/t.n`.´], respectively. This process does not affect all pre-nasal examples, e.g., button [b√/t.n`]. Outright deletion of the tap/flap is common in casual speech, e.g. pretty [ph®wI.i], little […I.o]. W

Deletion of w often occurs, mainly for one and was, as in younguns ‘children,’ little’un, and he ‘uz ‘he was.’ At one time, it apparently occurred in other words, e.g., Edward.

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HW, HJ

The sequence wh, as in which, was formerly widely pronounced as [hw] (or [„]) in the South; Kurath and McDavid (1961) found it in all parts of the South except the Low Country and part of Maryland. Nearly all young Southerners today produce it as [w], however. LAGS found that better-educated speakers were more likely to distinguish wh. Pronunciation of the /hj/ sequence, as in huge and Houston, as /j/ occurs sporadically; most published reports of it are from Texas. Intrusive T A few words, notably once, twice, across, and cliff, may show an intrusive [t] after the final fricative, e.g., [w√nst]. This process is not limited to the South but is especially common in older rural Southern white speech. Intrusive [t] is also reported in other words, e.g., sermont for sermon. Other consonantal variables Three other consonantal variables that have attracted extensive sociolinguistic attention are simplification of final consonant clusters (as in last and raised), unstressed final -ing (as in looking and something), and realization of nasal consonants in syllables codas only as vowel nasalization (as in [do)u)] for don’t). As with other varieties of English, simplification of final consonant clusters is infrequent before vowels, common before consonants, and intermediate before pauses, as well as being more frequent in monomorphemic words (last) than in bimorphemic words (raised). Forms such as [phousIz], [wçsIz], and [dEsIz] as the plurals of post, wasp, and desk, respectively, which were common in older African American speech, occurred only rarely in older Southern white speech. Forms such as [phoustIz], [wçspIz], and [dEskIz] were more common in white speech but are now quite recessive and are currently most prevalent in Appalachia. Unmarked plurals or plurals such as [phous˘] are still fairly common in white Southern speech, but they are widespread elsewhere, too. Unstressed final -ing may occur as [In] at higher rates in white Southern speech than in other white North American English, but otherwise it shows the same social and stylistic conditioning (i.e., [In] is more frequent among lower socioeconomic groups, among males, and in less formal styles). Hypercorrection, e.g., mounting and chicking for mountain and chicken, was once common in the South, especially in writing. Realization of nasals in codas as vowel nasality is widespread as a sandhi-form. Yet another consonantal variation, merger of /w/ and /v/ to [V], once occurred around the Pamlico Sound and perhaps elsewhere but has now disappeared (Wolfram and Thomas 2002).

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Current issues

The most pervasive issue in studies of rural Southern white accents has been their relationship to African American vernaculars. This issue includes several more specific questions. Did African American vernacular speech arise from an earlier rural Southern white vernacular, or have they always differed? Did African American speech influence Southern white speech, and if so, how? Has rural Southern white speech been moving away from or toward African American norms in recent decades? What sorts of features have spread across ethnic lines, and which ones have not? At present, there is no consensus on any of these controversies. For example, it has been suggested that non-rhoticity spread from slave speech to white speech in the South, a contention supported by early accounts of white children adopting accents from slave children, by the concentration of non-rhoticity in former plantation areas, and by the consistently higher incidence of non-rhoticity in African American speech (Feagin 1997). However, others have argued that nonrhoticity emerged as an imitation of British usage, largely because Southerners of means often sent their children to England to be educated (e.g., Johnson 1928). The fact that Southerners with sufficient wealth to send their children to school tended to be slaveholders might explain why non-rhoticity was concentrated in plantation areas. A third explanation for non-rhoticity is that the original English settlers brought it, but rhotic regions in English-settled areas, such as the Pamlico Sound region, would seem to militate against that possibility (though settlers could have brought non-rhoticity in unstressed syllables). At any rate, while it appears clear that whites borrowed some morphological processes from African Americans, it is nearly impossible to prove or disprove that phonological borrowing occurred. Similarly, the contemporary relationship between African American and Southern white vernaculars is open to dispute. There is ample evidence that African Americans in the South are not participating or barely participating in several aspects of the “Southern Shift” that typify the speech of Southern whites, such as GOOSE and GOAT fronting and FACE lowering. Whether this division reflects African American reaction against white norms, white reaction against African American norms, or a combination is not entirely clear. Even though the two ethnic groups have been diverging for those vowel quality features, the possibility that they may borrow other features from each other, such as pre-/l/ mergers, deserves some scrutiny. Other issues have received less attention. The origins of white Southern English have sparked some inquiry, and some evidence suggests that many defining features of Southern speech, such as glide weakening of PRIZE, may not have spread widely until the late 19th or early 20th centuries (Bailey 1997). Another issue is what effects the recent population movements of the South, especially the heavy in-migration of Northerners, are having on Southern speech. It appears that these

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movements have made more of an impact on urban centers than on rural areas. However, it is difficult to say how impervious rural areas are to such changes. Rural areas may be intensifying Southern dialectal features in reaction to the cities, or they may eventually succumb to urban influences. The status of individual features has garnered considerable attention. Two of the most intensively studied changes are the spread of rhoticity and the disappearance of [j] in words such as tune. The speed of these changes and the reasons for them have been debated. Among other issues, the Southern drawl is still poorly defined and it has not been determined whether the vowel quality changes associated with the Southern Shift are still spreading or have begun to retreat. The disappearance of certain local features, such as the ingliding forms of FACE and GOAT in the Low Country, has attracted some research. Clearly, the extensive research conducted on rural white Southern speech in the past has not exhausted the potential research topics on this group of dialects. Future work can be expected to address the issues noted above and open new questions. The intricacies of ethnic relations, population movements, shifts in prestige, and linguistic structure, as well as the historical differences that set the South off from the rest of the United States, combine to make the South a fertile ground for linguistic inquiry. *

I wish to thank Walt Wolfram and Kirk Hazen for their comments on earlier drafts of this paper. I also wish to thank Guy Bailey, who introduced me to a number of the ideas articulated here, such as the importance of the growth of mill towns, some years ago. Finally, I would like to thank the speakers who contributed their voices to the speech samples on the CD.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Bailey, Guy 1997 When did Southern English begin? In: Schneider (ed.), 255–75. Cobb, James C. 1984 Industrialization and Southern Society, 1877–1984. Lexington: University of Kentucky Press. Dorrill, George T. 1986 White and Black Speech in the South: Evidence from the Linguistic Atlas of the Middle and South Atlantic States. New York: Peter Lang. Feagin, Crawford 1997 The African contribution to Southern States English. In: Bernstein, Nunnally and Sabino (eds.), 123–39.

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Harris, Maverick Marvin 1969 The retroflexion of postvocalic /r/ in Austin. American Speech 44: 263–71. Johnson, H. P. 1928 Who lost the Southern “r?” American Speech 3: 377–83. Klipple, Florence Carmelita 1945 The speech of Spicewood, Texas. American Speech 20: 187–91. Labov, William 1991 The three dialects of English. In: Eckert (ed.), 1–44. Levine, Lewis, and Harry J. Crockett, Jr. 1966 Speech variations in a Piedmont community. Sociological Inquiry 36: 204–26. McDavid, Raven I., Jr. 1948 Postvocalic /-r/ in South Carolina: A social analysis. American Speech 23: 194– 203. 1958 The dialects of American English. In: Francis, 480–543. Woodward, C. Vann 1951 Origins of the New South, 1877–1913. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press.

The urban South: phonology Jan Tillery and Guy Bailey*

1.

Introduction

The single most important social fact about the American South since 1880 has been the urbanization of its population. Much of the current social fabric of the region, including increased educational levels, the existence of a substantial middle class, and both the Jim Crow laws that formalized racial segregation after 1890 and the Civil Rights movement that eliminated those laws after 1964, developed in part because of the emergence of Southern towns and cities. Urbanization has had profound linguistic consequences as well, initially forging a number of local vernaculars into the regional dialect we know of as Southern American English (SAmE) and later reshaping and transforming that dialect. A brief overview of urbanization in the South will illustrate how this process could factor in both the formation and the transformation of a dialect. A review of some phonological features of the urban South (and a comparison with the features of rural Southern phonology outlined in Thomas [this volume]) will illustrate the extent of the transformation.

2.

Urbanization in the South

The urbanization of the South has taken place in two phases. Lasting from about 1880 to the beginning of World War II, the first phase saw the emergence of towns and small cities, with most of the new urban population coming from the surrounding countryside. The second phase, which began during World War II and continues today, has seen the development of large metropolitan areas, with the population coming not only from the surrounding countryside, but also from other areas of the United States. Both phases were rooted in larger economic forces, but their demographic and linguistic consequences were different. 2.1.

Late 19th century urbanization

The immediate impetus for the first phase of urbanization was the rapid and widespread expansion of general stores after the Civil War. While some general stores had grown up at junctions on Southern railroads in the 1850s, the clientele and impact of those stores remained small. Slaves could buy nothing, and small farmers, who spent most of their energy for their household or local market, had

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little currency and little need for credit … The situation changed rapidly after emancipation with the rapid emergence of country stores in the late 1860s and 1870s. National laws written during the Civil War put most banks in the North and left stores to dispense the vast majority of credit [something which Southern farmers desperately needed because of the devastation of the war], with unplanted crops [serving] as collateral (Ayers 1992: 13).

The general store, then, served as the link between Northern bankers and Southern farmers and over the course of the last quarter of the 19th and early part of the 20th centuries “increasingly stood at the center of the rural economy” (Ayers 1992: 86). As a result of their importance to the rural economy, the growth in the number of stores during the last quarter of the 19th century was stunning: “by the turn of the century, the South contained 150,653 stores” (Ayers 1992: 81). General stores not only played an essential role in the post-bellum Southern economy, but they also formed the nucleus of an emerging urban system in the South. Because stores also supplied furnishings for an increasingly less self-sufficient farm population, loose clusterings of houses frequently grew up near them. With the construction of cotton gins, churches, schools, and railroads, these loose clusters often grew into the villages (settled places with populations under 2,500) that began to dot the Southern countryside after 1880. Some of these further evolved into towns (settled places with populations greater than 2,500 – the U. S. Census Bureau’s definition of an urban area) and thus formed the first phase of urbanization in the South. The growth in the number of villages and towns was as stunning as the growth in the number of stores was: “the number of villages doubled between 1870 and 1880 and then doubled again by 1900 (Ayers 1992: 20). Literally “thousands of villages came into existence during the last quarter of the 19th century, and (as figure 1 shows), hundreds more passed over the line into official ‘urban’ status …” (Ayers 1992:55). 250

Number of Villages Becoming Towns

217 200

150

105

100

55

50

11 0 1880-

1890-

1900-

1910-

Decade

Figure 1.

Number of villages crossing the crban threshold (reaching populations of 2,500) between 1880 and 1910 (Source: Ayers 1992)

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The end result of the rapid growth of villages and towns was a widespread redistribution of the Southern population. At the beginning of the Civil War only 10% of the Southern population lived in urban areas, and most of them were concentrated in only 22 cities and towns (four with populations greater than 25,000 and 18 with populations between 5,000 and 25,000). As late as 1880 urban residents represented only 12% of the Southern population, but after 1880 the urban and village population of the South expanded rapidly. The village and town population of the South grew by more than five million people between 1880 and 1910. The growth came fastest in the 1880s, slowed in the 1890s, and then accelerated again in the first decade of the new century. Villages … accounted for about a quarter of that increase. In 1900, about one of every six Southerners – in some regions, one of every four – nlived in a village or town (Ayers 1992: 55).

Drawn largely from the surrounding countryside, the urban population of the South (the population living in communities of at least 2,500) reached 18% in 1900 and stood at 37% in 1940. Two other factors were important in the first phase of urbanization in the South. First, even as the number of villages and towns grew as a consequence of the development of general stores, the emergence of the textile, lumber, tobacco, and mining industries provided the South with an incipient industrial base and an impetus for further urban growth. The incipient industrial base was especially important in the development of larger towns and cities. As a result, by 1910 the South included 33 cities with populations greater than 25,000 and 140 towns with populations greater than 5,000. Second, the rapid expansion of the rail system paralleled the growth in the number of villages and towns and provided a mechanism that linked the entire urban network in the South. The parallel growth of the rail system meant that “from their very beginning, the villages, towns, and cities of the New South worked as parts of complicated and interdependent networks” (Ayers 1992: 20). This interconnected grid of population clusters stood in stark contrast to the self-sufficient, isolated farms and plantations of the antebellum South. 2.2.

Post-1940 urbanization (metropolitanization)

The first phase of urbanization proceeded steadily from 1880 until the advent of World War II. Mobilization for the war, however, led to a rapid acceleration of urban growth, to significant changes in the paths of urbanization, and ultimately to another substantial redistribution of the Southern population. Urbanization occurred at an astonishing pace during this second phase, and because it was focused primarily on the larger cities of the South, is probably better termed “metropolitanization”. In 1940 just over a third of all Southerners lived in urban areas; 30 years later more than two thirds lived in towns and cities. However, whereas

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urbanization during the late 19th century involved the creation of villages and towns and migration to towns and small cities from the surrounding countryside, post-1940 urbanization involved migration to large cities and metropolitan areas and involved inter-regional migration as well as migration from the immediate area. Urbanization during this second phase was initially triggered by the expansion of military installations in the South and the gearing up of industry to meet war needs. After the war, both the rapid mechanization of Southern agriculture, along with the consequent reduction in the number of family farms, and also Southern industrial development led to continued growth of the urban population, again primarily in large cities. Further, for the first time in the history of the South, the number of rural residents (as opposed to just the proportion) began to decline. During the 1970s these trends received new impetus from the “Sunbelt Phenomenon”, which was spurred by rapidly expanding economic development in the South and the decay of industry in the North. After 1970, however, urban growth occurred almost exclusively in metropolitan areas. Rural areas, towns, and even small cities began to stagnate and lose population as Southerners increasingly moved to the largest cities in the region. Again, the rate of the migration to metropolitan areas is stunning. By 2000, some 78% of the Southern population lived in 119 metropolitan areas, all but four of which had more than 100,000 residents, while 43% of the population was concentrated in 19 metropolitan areas with populations greater than 1,000,000. These figures include Virginia residents, but not Maryland residents or residents of other states in the Washington, D. C. metropolitan area. Even if this area and other fringe areas of the South (e.g. Miami) were eliminated, the conclusions outlined above would still hold. The growth of Southern metropolises after 1970 was fueled not only by migration from the surrounding countryside, but also by migration from the North. The latter reversed a long-standing pattern, begun with the advent of World War I, that saw massive numbers of Southerners moving to Northern cities for work. Although the reversal of the South-to-North migration pattern was initially a white phenomenon, by the 1990s African Americans had begun to return to the South as well. The largescale migration of African Americans out of the South continued through the mid1970s, but during the 1990s African Americans began to move southward at a rate that closely paralleled their earlier exodus. In the space of 120 years, then, what was once an agrarian society comprised primarily of isolated, self-sufficient farms, with almost nine of ten people living in rural areas, became a commercial-industrial society organized around large, interconnected metropolises, with almost eight of 10 people residing in just 119 metropolitan areas. The transformation of the demographic landscape has had an enormous impact on Southern culture and language. Like the process of urbanization, however, the linguistic transformation of the South has been complex and has taken place in two distinct stages.

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Phonology of the urban South

The half-century following 1880 was a period of extraordinary activity for SAmE phonology. During that time, many of the most distinctive features of the SAmE vowel system either first appeared or became widespread (e.g., monophthongization of the vowel in the PRIZE and PRICE classes, the merger of the vowels in the PEN and PIN classes, the vowel rotations known as the Southern Shift, and probably the Southern Drawl [see Bailey 1997; Feagin 1996; and Thomas 2001]). These are illustrated below. At the same time, some older hallmarks of rural SAmE began gradually to disappear (e.g., the long offglide in words like DANCE [dQInts]) and the “loss” of stressed syllabic and, to a lesser extent, postvocalic r in words like third [TŒd] and NORTH [nç´T ~ nçT]). In fact, Bailey (1997) argues that what we now think of as SAmE is largely a product of developments of this half-century. The kind of data that would indicate decisively whether or not these linguistic developments emerged first in urban areas and then spread elsewhere does not exist. The correlation of their spread with the initial period of urbanization, however, suggests that both the dialect contact that was a consequence of town and city building and also the expanded communication networks among villages, towns, and cities provided the impetus for the formation of a regional dialect from what was earlier a number of local vernaculars. The regional dialect that was formed during the first phase of urbanization has been substantially transformed during the second phase. As non-Southerners have moved into the Southern cities in large numbers, many stereotypical features of SAmE, including some of those that emerged during the first period of urbanization, have begun to disappear in Southern metropolitan areas, especially during the last 30 years. As a consequence, the current metropolitan-rural distinction that has developed since the 1970s forms a major axis of variation in SAmE (see Thomas 1997), rivaling ethnicity as a correlate of language differences. 3.1.

Merger and the evolution of the SAmE phonological system

The last 30 years have seen significant shifts in the phonological inventory and in the sets of phonological contrasts in urban SAmE, especially in the largest cities and in the southwest. Historically, SAmE was one of the U.S. varieties that distinguished the vowels in words like LOT (pronounced with a low back unrounded vowel [A]) from those in words like THOUGHT (pronounced with a low back rounded, often upgliding vowel [ç ~ ço]). Since World War II, and especially since the 1970s, however, the vowels in these two classes have increasingly become merged in Southern metropolises, with both realized as [A]. The precise reason for the development of the merger after World War II is not clear, but three factors have likely played a role:

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(1) extensive in-migration from the Midwest, where the THOUGHT/LOT distinction was often not maintained, (2) the rapid growth of the Hispanic population, a group that does have the contrast, in the Southwest and in Florida, and (3) the mild stigma that has begun to be attached to upgliding allophones of /ç/ (and more generally to anything resembling the Southern Drawl). Once the upglide is eliminated, the vowels of the THOUGHT and LOT classes are so close in phonological space that the difference is difficult to maintain. The merger of the THOUGHT and LOT classes, of course, eliminates one of the most distinctive features of traditional SAmE—upgliding [ço] in the THOUGHT class—and aligns the vowel system of urban SAmE more closely with that of the American West in some respects. The inventory of vowels before r and l is also changing rapidly in urban SAmE. Older rural Southern varieties often had a three-way distinction among the vowels in words like MARY, MERRY, and MARRY and typically maintained the distinction between vowels in the NORTH and FORCE classes (as [ç] and [o] respectively). Beginning after 1880 and accelerating rapidly after World War II, however, the distinction between the MARY and MERRY class began to disappear; currently both are typically pronounced with [] as the stressed vowel. Over the last quarter century, this merged MARY/MERRY class has begun to merge with the MARRY class as well. When all three are merged, either [] or [æ] can be the stressed vowel. The time frame for the merger of the FORCE and NORTH classes parallels that of the MARY/MERRY merger; in the urban South, both FORCE and NORTH are now typically pronounced with close [o], though [ç] can also appear in both classes. The ultimate consequence of these mergers, of course, is a reduction in the set of vowel contrasts in SAmE. In stressed syllables, the most advanced varieties of urban SAmE include only two front vowels before tautosyllabic r ([i ~
] and [ ~ æ]), two back vowels ([o] and [u ~ ]), and one low central/back vowel [], along with a rhotic central vowel of course. Traditional Southern dialects also maintained distinctions between tense and lax vowels before tautosyllabic l, but these distinctions have increasingly been lost over the last half-century too. As a result, vowels in the FEEL and FILL classes are often merged (usually as [I]), as are vowels in the FAIL and FELL classes (usually as []). Even more frequent is the merger of vowels in the POOL and PULL classes (usually as [U]). This merger, like the THOUGHT/LOT merger, eliminates one of the hallmarks of earlier SAmE—upgliding or monophthongal [Uu ~ u] in the POOL class. Finally, among some younger Southerners in urban areas, the stressed vowels in words like hull and Tulsa ([√] in traditional SAmE) are merged with the vowel that results from the POOL/PULL merger, again usually as [U]. As a result, in stressed syllables the most advanced urban varieties of SAmE include

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three front vowels before l ([I],[], and [æ]), two back vowels ([U] and [o]), and a low central/back vowel [ ~ ç]. Finally, even as both the merger of the vowels in the THOUGHT and LOT classes and also the pre-r and pre-l mergers have rapidly expanded in Southern cities, one of the hallmarks of SAmE that developed during the period between 1880 and 1940, the merger of vowels before nasals in words like PEN and PIN (almost always as [I]), has begun to recede. Although the PEN/PIN merger became one of the most distinctive features of SAmE after 1880, is still thriving throughout the rural South, and is even expanding in some areas contiguous to the South, in the largest Southern metropolises (areas such as Dallas and Atlanta) it is disappearing. The end result of all of these developments is widespread change in the set of vowel contrasts that affect urban SAmE and a substantial realignment of its phonological system. Table 1 summarizes the vowel mergers that currently affect urban SAmE. Table 1. Vowel mergers and their status in urban SAmE Merged classes

Phonetic realization Type of merger Environment

Time frame Status

PEN/PIN MARY/MERRY MERRY/MARRY NORTH/FORCE FEEL/FILL FAIL/FELL POOL/PULL Tulsa/PULL THOUGHT/LOT

[p
n] [mi] [m
~ mæ
] [no ] [f
l] [fl] [p l] [t ls] [ t]

Post 1880 Post 1880 Post WWII Post 1880 Post WWII Post WWII Post WWII Post 1970 Post WWII

3.2.

Conditioned Conditioned Conditioned Conditioned Conditioned Conditioned Conditioned Conditioned Unconditioned

Pre-nasal Pre-r Front vowel Pre-r Front vowel Pre-r Back vowel Pre-l Front vowel Pre-l Front vowel Pre-l Back vowel Pre-l Back vowel ———

Contracting Expanding Expanding Expanding Expanding Expanding Expanding Expanding Expanding

Prosodic features

The gradual disappearance of the two most prominent features of traditional SAmE prosody, the Southern Drawl and the shift of primary stress to front syllables, parallels the changes in the set of vowel contrasts. The Southern Drawl typically involves two phonological processes: the extreme lengthening of stressed vowels and the development of ingliding diphthongs with lax vowels that are lengthened. Thus in Drawled speech, MOUTH might be pronounced [mæo ], bid might be pronounced [b
d], and bad might be pronounced as [bæd]. The Drawl is quite recessive in the urban South, confined largely to people born before World War II. Likewise, the shift of primary stress in words like police, Detroit, and pecan to the first syllable is quite rare among younger Southerners in urban areas, although initial syllable stress in insurance, defense, and in some cases umbrella still persists. Little research exists on other features of SAmE prosody, but one feature of juncture deserves further comment – the syllabification of medial r and l. In earlier SAmE, medial r in words such as MARY and MERRY was grouped with the second

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syllable. Some time after 1880, the syllabification of medial r began to change so that r was grouped with the first syllable. This development, which entailed a change in the phonetic realization of r from [] to [], seems to have been the triggering event in the merger of the vowels in the MARY and MERRY classes (and latter the MARRY class) discussed above. The situation with medial and post-vocalic l presents some interesting similarities and some striking contrasts to r. As indicated above, the set of contrasts before tautosyllabic l has been reduced in urban SAmE, just as it had earlier before tautosyllabic r. The syllabification of medial l, however, has not changed. In sets such as mealy/Millie and Bailey/belly, l usually remains grouped with the second syllable and the tense/lax contrast remains intact. 3.3.

Other vowel features

3.3.1. Glide shortening in diphthongs (monophthongization) The shortening of the offglides of diphthongs in words of the OIL class and of the PRIZE and PRICE classes (especially in the former) is one of the most noticeable features of SAmE. Words like oil are pronounced [ç´lÚ] in older and rural varieties of SAmE, while words in the PRIZE class typically have [a ~ a´ ~ a] as stressed vowels. Although the history of glide shortening in the oil class is unclear, the shortening of offglides in PRIZE/PRICE classes (and in many cases the loss of the glide altogether) began during the last quarter of the 19th century and expanded rapidly thereafter. By the middle of the 20th century, glide-shortened and monophthongal variants of the PRIZE/PRICE classes were prevalent throughout most of the South, especially in voiced environments. Glide shortening (or monophthongization) has always been constrained both phonologically and socially, however. A following r or l has always been the phonological environment that favors monophthongs the most, with following nasals and other voiced obstruents also quite favorable. Before voiceless obstruents, monophthongs have always been less common and more restricted both regionally and socially. Although in voiceless environments [a~ a´~a] occurs throughout the South to some extent and even among African Americans sometimes, these realizations are most common in the Southern Appalachians and contiguous areas and in a broad area of Texas running west of Fort Worth through Lubbock (see Labov, Ash and Boberg fc.). Likewise, monophthongs in the PRICE class are also far more common among whites than blacks. In spite of its widespread geographic and social provenance, however, glide shortening in both the PRIZE and PRICE classes, like the PEN/PIN merger, is receding in the largest cities of the urban South. Increasingly, young Southerners in metropolises like Dallas, Houston, and Atlanta have full diphthongs in all environments, although monophthongs still frequently

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appear before l and r. In these same areas, full offglides are becoming the norm in pre-l environments for vowels in the oil class as well. 3.3.2. Vowel shifts Like glide shortening, the vowel changes collectively known as the “Southern Shift” all either emerged during the last quarter of the 19th century or began to expand rapidly during that time. Although there is some debate about what exactly comprises the Southern Shift, the following processes have been included as part of it at one time or another: (1) the fronting of the vowels in the GOOSE class to [ ~ y] and in the FOOT class to [P ~ Y], (2) the fronting of the nucleus in the MOUTH class to [æo ~ o], (3) the fronting or fronting and lowering of the vowels in the GOAT class to [y ~  ~ æ], (4) the lowering and retraction of vowels in the FACE class to [
~ æ
], and (5) in parts of the South, the lowering and retraction of the vowels in the FLEECE class to [
> i]. By the middle of the 20th century these developments had become defining characteristics of the SAmE vowel system in most areas of the South. Since World War II, the fronting of back vowels and of the nucleus of the diphthong in the MOUTH class has continued in urban SAmE, even surpassing the fronting in non-urban varieties, and has expanded to include the vowels in the STRUT class sometimes, which can be realized as []. The lowering and retraction of the front vowels, however, is receding in the largest metropolitan areas. For many urban Southerners born after 1970, the vowels in the FACE and FLEECE classes are as high as or higher than the vowels in the DRESS and KIT classes, and the tense member of the pair is often further to the front as well. 3.3.3. Consonants Although it is clearly most different from other American dialects in its vowel system, SAmE also includes some distinctive consonant features. Unlike many other varieties of American English, traditional SAmE preserved h before w in words like which and white, maintained j after alveolar stops and nasals in words like Tuesday, due, and news, and had unconstricted r in postvocalic position. However, over the last 120 years, and particularly since World War II, all of these have begun to disappear in the urban South. In initial clusters, h is now usually lost before w and sometimes before j, so that which is typically [w
t] and Houston sometimes [jstn]. Likewise, among younger Southern urbanites, j is generally lost after alveolars so that do and due are homophones (both are usually realized as [du]).

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The situation with r is somewhat more complicated. Although the Southern mountains and piney woods have always been rhotic, in the plantation areas of the South, earlier varieties of SAmE had unconstricted r in four environments: (1) when r followed a vowel (as in fire, four, ford, and far), (2) when it functioned as a stressed syllabic (as in first and fur), (3) when it functioned as an unstressed syllabic (as in father), and (4) occasionally when it occurred in intersyllabic position (as in MARY and MERRY). Present-day urban SAmE, however, generally has constricted r in all of these environments. The expansion of constricted r began first in intersyllabic and stressed syllabic environments before World War II. Since that time constricted variants have become the norm in Southern metropolises not only in intersyllabic and stressed syllabic environments, but increasingly in postvocalic environments (after front vowels initially and then after back vowels) and in unstressed syllabic contexts as well. In fact, over the last quarter century, the expansion of rhotic variants has been so extensive among white Southerners that non-rhotic forms are now associated primarily with African Americans. Three other features of traditional SAmE, however, have been preserved in urban SAmE to a greater extent. First, as in rural varieties, post-vocalic l is frequently vocalized; the vocalized l is often transcribed as [F] in linguistic atlas records, but there is usually some lip rounding with vocalized l. Second, again as in rural varieties, medial z often undergoes assibilation before n so that isn’t is pronounced [
dn] and wasn’t pronounced [w√dn]. (Note, however, that urban SAmE differs from rural varieties in that v is rarely assibilated in words like seven.) Finally, especially in rapid speech, final nasals are still sometimes realized only as vowel nasality; this accounts for the fact that don’t can be pronounced as [do ]. Other consonant features of traditional SAmE phonology, such as intrusive t in words like once and the unusually high rate of consonant cluster simplification, have largely disappeared from urban SAmE.

4.

Some issues for further research

Although recent research sheds considerable light on the urbanization of SAmE, a number of issues remain unresolved. For instance, the correlation between urbanization and widespread phonological change is clear, but the motivations for innovations and their paths of diffusion are not clear. Bailey, Wikle, Tillery and Sand (1993) show that innovations may have traveled along a variety of paths of diffusion (i.e., either up or down the urban hierarchy or “contagiously”). However, whether different types of innovation correlate with different types of diffusion remains unclear and is an important topic for future research.

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The triggers for linguistic innovation in urban SAmE are less clear than the paths of diffusion. Recent work on vowel–consonant transitions is promising, though. For example, Tillery, Bailey, Andres, Miller and Palow (2003) suggest that vowel-consonant transitions between diphthongs and a following r or l may have triggered glide shortening in words of the PRIZE/PRICE classes. They marshal linguistic atlas evidence to show that glide shortening probably occurred first in words like file and fire, then spread to other voiced environments, and finally diffused to voiceless environments in some areas. The development of monophthongs in the PRIZE/PRICE classes, in turn, created the phonetic context that allowed for the lowering and retraction of vowels in the FACE class, one of the major features of the Southern Shift (Labov, Ash, and Boberg fc.). The emergence of several of the most distinctive characteristics of SAmE, then, may have been triggered simply by the transition from vowels to a following r or l. While these are hypotheses that still must be confirmed, they do point to phonetic contexts as an important locus for studying the motivation for phonological change in SAmE. Fortunately, both the formation and the transformation of urban SAmE has occurred recently enough (within the last 125 years) that its history is well documented. The existence of such documentation (much of it on tape recordings) provides an unusual opportunity for studying the diffusion of linguistic innovations and the motivations for language change. The transformation of urban SAmE is still a work in progress. Both in-migration and metropolitanization continue to be major forces in the South. In the United States, net gains in domestic migration between 1995 and 2000 were limited almost exclusively to the South and the Intermountain West. Domestic migration in some areas, though, now pales in comparison to migration from other countries. In Texas, for instance, net domestic migration between 1995 and 2000 was 148,000. Foreign migration during just the two-year span between 2000 and 2002, however, was more than 360,000. While most other Southern states have not yet experienced migration from abroad to this extent, the foreign population in states such as North Carolina and Georgia is growing at a rapid pace and is creating an ethnic complexity heretofore unknown. How the continuing transformation of the Southern population and its increasing ethnic complexity will affect SAmE is an important question for future research. The concentration of the new Southerners in the largest cities of the region also creates new opportunities for social fissures in SAmE. The Sunbelt migration after 1970 and the rapid growth of the population in the largest metropolitan areas have already created significant new sociolinguistic dimensions. In the American Southwest, rurality and nativity now have more important consequences for linguistic variation than such factors as social class and gender do, and the emerging rural/urban split seems to be producing a dichotomy much like the earlier Southern/South Midland distinction. This emerging dichotomy provides an important venue for studying mechanisms of dialect creation.

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Although African Americans returning to the South are now a significant part of the migration to the region, precisely how they will either impact or be impacted by the SAmE of whites is an open question. The relationship between African American Vernacular English (AAVE) and various white vernaculars, of course, has been an on-going controversy for more than 30 years. It is increasingly clear, however, that both a significant part of the distinctiveness of AAVE and also its relative uniformity across the United States is a consequence of the African American population’s movement to and concentration in the inner-city areas of large metropolises. Future research on urban SAmE should examine whether African Americans maintain these national AAVE norms or whether they adopt local norms as they return to the South. The impact of African Americans on white speech also deserves consideration. Before they began leaving the South during World War I, African Americans had a significant influence on rural SAmE. Whether or not they influence urban SAmE as they return to the South is an important question for future research. Because of its distinctiveness, SAmE has long been the most widely studied regional variety of American English. While the metropolitanization of SAmE is eroding some of that distinctiveness, it certainly has not eliminated it. Perhaps more important, metropolitanization has created new dimensions of language variation that should make SAmE fertile ground for research for years to come. *

We wish to thank Erik Thomas for his insights into the development of the urban/ruraldichotomy in the South.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Ayers, Edward L. 1992 The Promise of the New South: Life After Reconstruction. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Bailey, Guy 1997 When did Southern English begin? In: Schneider (ed.), Vol. 1, 255–275. Bailey, Guy, Tom Wikle, Jan Tillery and Lori Sand 1991 The apparent time construct. Language Variation and Change 3: 241–264. 1993 Some patterns of linguistic diffusion. Language Variation and Change 5: 359– 390. 1996 The linguistic consequences of catastrophic events: An example from the Southwest. In: Jennifer Arnold, Renée Blake, Brad Davidson, Scott Schwenter and Julie Solomon (eds.), Sociolinguistic Variation: Data, Theory,

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and Analysis, 435–451. Stanford: Center for the Study of Language and Information. Feagin, Crawford 1996 Peaks and glides in Southern short -a. In: Guy, Baugh, Feagin and Schiffrin (eds.), 135–160. Fridland, Valerie 2000 The Southern Shift in Memphis, Tennessee. Language Variation and Change 11: 267–285. Labov, William 1991 The three dialects of English. In: Eckert (ed.), 1–44. Thomas, Erik R. 1997 A rural/metropolitan split in the speech of Texas Anglos. Language Variation and Change 9: 309–332. Tillery, Jan 1997 The role of social processes in language variation and change. In: Bernstein, Nunnally and Sabino (eds.), 434–446. Tillery, Jan, Guy Bailey, Claire Andres, Jeff Miller and Naomi Palow 2003 Monophthongal /ai/ in the American South: Evidence from three linguistic surveys. Southeastern Conference on Linguistics, Washington DC, 13 April.

The West and Midwest: phonology Matthew J. Gordon

1.

Introduction

This chapter offers a phonological sketch of the varieties of English spoken across the midwestern and western United States. The area covered can be visualized as a fairly narrow band that stretches from western Pennsylvania across central sections of Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois and widens at the Mississippi River to include Missouri, Iowa, and Minnesota and eventually the Great Plains and the western states as it continues to the Pacific coast. To be sure, this vast territory is by no means linguistically homogenous; indeed almost all of the speech characteristics described here occur variably across the regions considered and across speakers within any given region. Nevertheless, there are traits that can be heard throughout this broad territory and that serve to distinguish it from neighboring areas. The region seems also to have some coherence in popular perceptions of American dialects. The speech of this region generally lacks features that are salient markers of place to the ears of most Americans, a tendency that contributes to the perception that the region is “accentless”. This sense of the region is encoded in the notion of a “General American” dialect, a term that was used by observers of American English such as H.L. Mencken before Kurath’s tripartite division (North, Midlands, South) became received wisdom among dialectologists. General American was typically distinguished from Southern and Eastern speech and was defined negatively as a dialect that lacked the regionally distinctive features of the other two. Some linguists still employ the General American label though they are quick to add that it does not designate a monolithic accent.

2.

Sociohistorical background

The territory under consideration here includes lands that came into the possession of the United States over a period of roughly 70 years. The eastern edge of this region (western Pennsylvania) stood as the western frontier during the colonial period. This frontier was expanded in the 1780s with the opening of the Northwest territories which included Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois. The Louisiana Purchase in 1803 extended the U.S. holdings across the plains and into the Rocky Mountains. An 1846 settlement with Great Britain brought the Oregon Country under sole control of the U.S., thereby stretching the border to the Pacific. The final stages

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in this American expansion came after war with Mexico, which led to the cession of California and the rest of the Southwest to the U.S. in 1848, an acquisition that was extended southward in 1853 by the Gadsden Purchase of land that became part of Arizona and New Mexico. This review of territorial expansion paints the broad strokes of the picture of American settlement of the region. The sections of the Old Northwest that are of concern here were settled mainly by two streams of emigrants from the Atlantic states: one coming west across Pennsylvania and the other coming north from the Mountain South. These settlers generally established themselves south of the Great Lakes which contributed to a cultural and linguistic divide with the northern lands which were settled primarily by New Englanders. West of the Mississippi River the same general pattern held: northern states like Minnesota and the Dakotas tended to attract emigrants from western New York and New England while states like Iowa and Missouri were settled primarily by Midlanders with many of the new Iowans coming from Pennsylvania and Ohio and many of the Missourians coming from Kentucky and Tennessee (Hudson 1988). As American settlement moved west, the population became much more mixed in origin. For example the gold rush that began in 1848 drew people from across the US to California and helped to establish San Francisco as a cosmopolitan urban center. Further north in Oregon, migration in the mid-nineteenth century “drew about equally from the Free States and from the Slave States of the Border South” (Meinig 1972: 165). An exception to the usual diversity found in western settlement is seen in the relative homogeneity of the Mormon population that settled in Utah beginning in 1847. The preceding account has focussed on settlement by English-speaking emigrants from the eastern US. These emigrants were, of course, moving into lands populated by speakers of other languages. It is probably fair to say that the hundreds of American Indian languages spoken across the West have had little if any impact on the phonology of the dialects of English spoken by Anglos. On the other hand, the legacy of Spanish in the Southwest has had a much greater impact on the English spoken in this area (see Santa Ana and Bayley, this volume). Also significant has been the linguistic influence of numerous European immigrants. Many of these immigrants settled in urban areas such as Pittsburgh and St. Louis, establishing ethnic neighborhoods. There was also a tremendous push to attract immigrants to farming areas in order to build the agricultural economy. Many Germans responded to this call and settled throughout the Midwest. Scandinavians also contributed to the westward flow. In the last quarter of the nineteenth century an estimated one-fifth of the population of Norway and Sweden emigrated to the States, many of them settling in Minnesota and other areas of the Upper Midwest. The central lesson to be taken from this sociohistorical overview is that the story of English in the American Midwest and West, while fairly short, nevertheless involves a diverse cast of characters. Given the mix of people from varied origins

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that settled the region, we might consider the relative uniformity of speech heard here – speech represented in the popular notion of the General American dialect – to be the result of dialect leveling. The process of dialect leveling can be useful in understanding the phonological characteristics discussed below because it accounts for not only the elimination of highly localized features but also the diffusion of innovations across a large region (e.g., Watt and Milroy 1999).

3.

Phonetic realizations

3.1.

Vowels

Table 1.

Common vowel realizations in the American West and Midwest

KIT




FLEECE

i
~ i˘

NEAR

i

DRESS



FACE

e
> e˘

SQUARE



TRAP

æ

PALM

 ~  > Å

START



LOT

 ~  > Å

THOUGHT

 ~  ~ Å > ç

NORTH

o>ç>Å

STRUT

Œ

GOAT

o ~ ! > o˘

FORCE

o>ç

FOOT

~ 

GOAL

o > o˘

CURE

ju > j´

BATH

æ

GOOSE

u ~ u˘ ~ ¨

happY

i

CLOTH

 ~  ~ Å > ç

PRICE

a
> ´


lettER

Œ

NURSE

´

CHOICE

ç
> o


horsES


~i>´

DANCE

æ

MOUTH

a > æ > ´

commA

´

Comments on vowels: LOT, CLOTH, PALM, THOUGHT: For many of the speakers in this region, the phone-

mic distinction between // and /ç/ has been lost. The geographic distribution and status of this merger is discussed in more detail below. The phonetic realization of the merged vowel varies regionally as well as according to phonological context. Most commonly the result is an unrounded back vowel near [] or slightly backer []. The rounded [Å] appears to be more geographically restricted and is heard among some speakers in western Pennsylvania and neighboring West Virginia. The Northern Cities Shift (see Gordon, this volume) occurs to a limited extent in central Illinois and St. Louis. As a result, THOUGHT and CLOTH items may appear with a low and often unrounded back vowel, and LOT items may appear with a fronted vowel near [a]. In some parts of the Upper Midwest (e.g., Minnesota), the Northern Cities Shift appears to be moving into areas where the merger of //

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and /ç/ has already taken hold with the result that both LOT and THOUGHT/CLOTH items can appear with fronted vowels. PALM items generally pattern with LOT, and the [l] is frequently realized as an apparent example of spelling pronunciation. DANCE: Raised allophones, [Q3] or higher, are common for /æ/ before nasal con-

sonants across much of the western US. The phonemic split of tense and lax /æ/ found in Middle Atlantic dialects such as Philadelphia and New York (see Gordon, this volume and Labov 1994) does not occur in the regions described here, though a similar phenomenon is heard in Cincinnati as discussed below. FLEECE, GOOSE: As elsewhere in the US, variation between diphthongal and

monophthongal forms appears to be dependant on phonetic length with the diphthongs more common in longer realizations (Thomas 2001). Fronted variants of GOOSE are discussed below. FACE, GOAT, GOAL: Monophthongal variants of the mid vowels are common in the Upper Midwest. Fronted variants of GOAT are quite widespread throughout the

entire region. Both of these features are discussed below. PRICE, MOUTH: Centralized variants of these diphthongs before voiceless obstru-

ents are heard especially in the northern areas of this region and are apparently an extension of the pattern known as “Canadian Raising” (see Boberg, this volume). Fronting in MOUTH is discussed below. NORTH, FORCE: The historical distinction between /o®/ (e.g., hoarse) and /ç®/ (e.g., horse) has been lost throughout most of the region. The resulting vowel is most commonly [o]. The low back [Å] is restricted to varieties affected by a different merger of /®/ and /ç®/ (see below).

3.2.

Consonants

As is true of other areas in North America, there is relatively little salient variation in the realization of consonants, or at least very little consonantal variation has attracted the attention of linguists. Features worth noting include: – NG: The variation between [
] and [
n] that is heard throughout the Englishspeaking world in verbal endings is also common here with the alveolar form associated with relatively informal styles. – R: Postvocalic /®/ is practically universal across the region though its actual realization may vary. For example, Hartman (1985) characterizes /®/ as involving less retroflexion across a wide area of the West. The words wash and Wash-

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ington are often produced with an “intrusive” /®/, thus [w®] or [wç®]. This pronunciation is more common in the traditional Midland dialect areas from western Pennsylvania across the central sections of Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois and into Iowa, Missouri, and Nebraska. It appears to be more common among rural speakers and is often socially stigmatized – a trend that may contribute to its declining use among younger speakers. – L: As in other parts of the U.S., /l/ may be vocalized or deleted altogether in a number of phonological contexts. Realizations such as [hp] ~ [hwp] ~ [hop] for help or [p
w] ~ [p
o] for pill are more common in the traditional Midland areas. For example, the Linguistic Atlas of the Upper Midwest records them in the speech of several Iowans but only a single Minnesotan. They are also reported to be characteristic of Pittsburgh speech. – WH: The distinction between /w/ and /„/ as in witch ~ which may still be heard among some speakers though it is clearly under threat as younger speakers tend to merge these in favor of the voiced form, /w/. 3.3.

Suprasegmental features

No suprasegmental features serve as distinctive markers of this region.

4.

Discussion of features showing broad regional currency

This section offers further descriptions of some features that are widespread across the region under discussion. While none of these features is unique to this region, their co-occurrence here does serve to distinguish the region from others. 4.1.

The low back merger

The phonemic contrast between //, LOT, and /ç/, THOUGHT, has been lost for many speakers in the area described here. This development is the result of an unconditional merger (i.e., one that applies across the board to every phonological context) and creates homophones of pairs such as cot and caught, Don and dawn, and Polly and Paulie. As noted above, the phonetic value of the merged vowel varies between the poles of the historical sources, // and /ç/, but is commonly unrounded, low and quite back. Some sources have treated the merger as a simple shifting of /ç/ into [], but evidence of misunderstandings between merged and unmerged speakers suggests that the phonetic result is more intermediate between [ç] and []. Hearers who maintain the contrast may perceive a merged speaker’s THOUGHT words as members of the LOT class (e.g., Dawn heard as Don), but the reverse also happens (e.g., copy heard as coffee).

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The low back merger has been well known to dialectologists as a feature of eastern New England, where it tends to show a rounded vowel (Kurath and McDavid 1961). It is also well established across Canada (see Boberg, this volume). For the region covered in this chapter, the early linguistic atlas records show the merger in western Pennsylvania and extending westward on either side of the Ohio river. More recent research has shown the merger to be characteristic of the western states (see, e.g., Metcalf 1972; Hartman 1985; Labov, Ash, and Boberg fc.). In an early statement about the merger, Labov (1991: 31) suggested it was a “nonurban” feature, and he noted its absence in Los Angeles and San Francisco. His more recent Telsur project shows the merger to be common in Los Angeles though many San Franciscans still maintain a contrast (see Labov, Ash, and Boberg fc.). In fact, the low back merger appears to be a relatively new development in the West. Johnson (1975) compares Los Angeles natives who were interviewed in 1953 for the Linguistic Atlas of the Pacific Coast with speakers from his own study twenty years later. He found minimal evidence of the merger among the linguistic atlas speakers while in his sample he observed a steady increase in the adoption of the merger across the generations. Labov’s Telsur findings generally confirm this trend and furthermore suggest the merger is spreading geographically into the Upper Midwest as far as Minnesota and into central states such as Kansas and Nebraska. In Missouri, the merger is relatively more common in the western part of the state (e.g., Kansas City) than in the eastern part, though it can be heard in the speech of some younger speakers in St. Louis. The evidence suggests, therefore, that the low back merger is a change in progress and one that is expanding its geographical range. 4.2.

Fronting of /u/, / /, and /o/

The back vowels /u/, / /, and /o/ are commonly fronted to a central or nearly front position in vowel space resulting in variants whose nuclei might be transcribed as [¨] ~ [y], [ ] ~ ["] and [!] ~ [ø]. Like the low back merger, this is a feature that was identified by earlier dialectological research. The linguistic atlas records show fronted variants of /u/ and / / to be fairly common in the South and South Midland while fronting of /o/ appeared to be more geographically restricted and was common in northeastern North Carolina and the Delaware River valley including Philadelphia. Fronting of both /u/ and /o/ was also shown as characteristic on western Pennsylvania (Kurath and McDavid 1961). More recent evidence suggests that fronting of these back vowels has become very widespread geographically (see Thomas, this volume for a description of the situation in the South). For example, Lusk (1976) found fronting of all three of the vowels among her Kansas City speakers, and Luthin (1987) reports on similar developments in the speech of Californians. Thomas (2001) provides acoustic evidence of fronting of the vowels in several speakers from central and southern

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Ohio. The Telsur project has examined the position of /u/ and /o/ on a national level and uses acoustic measurements to distinguish various degrees of fronting (Labov 2001: 479; Labov, Ash, and Boberg fc.). For /u/, the most extreme fronting outside of the South is recorded in St. Louis though the rest of the Midland and West also show significant fronting. For /o/, Labov and his colleagues found extreme fronting in Pittsburgh and across central sections of Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois as well as in various locations in Missouri and Kansas. Less extreme fronting was recorded across most of the West including in Denver, Portland, Fresno, and Tucson. The backest (least fronted) variants of both /u/ and /o/ were generally dominant only in extreme northern areas including Montana, the Dakotas, and Minnesota (as well as in the Inland North and New England). Fronting of these vowels is not normally found in the context of following liquids (i.e., /l/ and /®/). Thomas (2001) plotted separate means for pre-/l/ tokens such as pool, pull, and pole, and his acoustic portraits show that these means generally remain along the back wall of vowel space even in the case of speakers with extreme fronting of the vowels in other contexts. In terms of their relative progression, /u/ fronting seems generally to lead fronting of / / and /o/ (Labov 1994: 208; Thomas 2001: 33). 4.3.

Mergers and near mergers before liquids

The liquid consonants /®/ and /l/ are well known for their tendency to influence the quality of adjacent vowels. A number of phonemic contrasts are neutralized in this environment. An example of this is the well established pattern in the West and Midwest whereby the distinctions among /æ/, //, and /e/ are lost before /®/. The resulting vowel is typically closest to [] so that marry, merry, and Mary are all pronounced as [m®i]. The phoneme /l/ is also contributing to the reduction or loss of several phonemic contrasts across much of the US. Among the most important patterns for the region discussed here are conditioned mergers of /i/ and /
/, /u/ and / /, and /e/ and // in the context of a following /l/. These mergers result in homophones for pairs such as feel and fill, fool and full, and fail and fell. The phonetic quality of the merged vowel approximates to the lax member of each pair; i.e., [
], [ ], [] (Thomas 2001: 50). Compared to the features described above, awareness of these mergers among dialectologists has come relatively recently. Labov, Yaeger, and Steiner (1972) identified mergers of /ul/ ~ / l/, /il/ ~ /
l/ and /el/ ~ /l/ among speakers from Albuquerque and Salt Lake City. Labov’s more recent investigations through the Telsur project show these mergers to be widespread across almost all of the US though they are distributed quite sparsely in many regions. Their geographical patterning among the Telsur respondents bears some resemblance to that seen with the fronting of /o/: they are relatively more common across the Midland and in southern

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regions of the West than in the Northwest and Upper Midwest. This similarity in regional distribution is not surprising given that the pre-L mergers, like the fronting of back vowels, are also common in the South (see Thomas, this volume). The pre-L mergers appear to be a fairly recent development and moreover active changes in progress, at least in some areas. Thomas’ (2001) acoustic data suggest, for example, that /ul/ and / l/ are merged for most younger Ohioans, those born after 1963, while older speakers maintain a clear separation in vowel space. Similar generational differences were found among Utahns by Di Paolo and Faber (1990). This latter study also established that these developments do not necessarily result in a complete merger of the vowels. Di Paolo and Faber found that even when the vowels overlap in phonetic space (as shown by acoustic measurements), speakers may preserve a distinction through phonation differences (e.g., creaky voice). One of the most intriguing aspects of these types of changes, which Labov (1994) labels ‘near mergers,’ is the finding that speakers may perceive no contrast between the sounds even when they consistently produce a distinction phonetically. 4.4.

“Southern” features

Many features that are characteristic of southern accents are heard throughout the Midwest and West as well though their occurrence is more scattered than the items discussed above. In terms of the traditional dialectological divisions, many of these pronunciations are associated with the South Midlands (or Upper South) rather than with the South proper. More background and information about the distribution of these features in the South can be found in Thomas (this volume). One of the most common of these southern features is the fronting of the nucleus of /a / to something like [æ ] often with a lowering of the glide to [æç]. Despite its Southern associations, this feature is heard well north of the Ohio river across roughly the lower halves of Ohio, Indiana and Illinois. It can also be heard across most of Missouri and Kansas and into Iowa and Nebraska. Linguistic atlas records (Allen 1973-76) document this pronunciation as far north as Minnesota, and the Telsur project shows that it is also heard throughout the West. Also widespread in the Midwest and West is the merger of the vowels of KIT and DRESS before nasal consonants, a feature known as the pin/pen merger. The geographical distribution of this merger resembles that of /a /-fronting though the merger’s occurrence seems to be more spotty. The Telsur data suggest the merger is scattered across Ohio and Illinois and is more common in Indiana. Telsur also recorded several speakers in Missouri, Kansas and Nebraska with the merger. In the West, the pin/pen merger appears less common among Telsur informants, but it is documented throughout the region including the Pacific Northwest and California. The fact that the Telsur project concentrated on urban speech may have resulted in its underrepresenting the appearance of this merger. For example, studies of rural speech in Ohio indicate the merger is much more common than the Telsur

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sample suggests. Similarly, none of the Los Angeles informants for Telsur gave clear evidence of the merger, but Metcalf (1972) reports the merger to be quite common further inland in Riverside, CA. The distributions of other southern features in the West and Midwest are less well documented. These include variants of /ç/ as upgliding diphthongs, that is [çu] or [ço]. These variants are particularly common in the context of a following // as in dog or log. They have been recorded in Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Missouri and can certainly be heard elsewhere in the Midwest as well. The same can be said for monophthongal variants of /a
/. In the South monophthongized /a
/ appears before obstruents (e.g., side, prize), but here such variants are generally heard only before resonants (e.g., time, tire). The appearance of “Southern” features in Midwest and West is clearly a result of the settlement patterns discussed above. Many of the early American settlers to this region came from states like Tennessee, Kentucky, and North Carolina. In central states such as Missouri and Illinois, these Southerners, being the first Americans to homestead there, came to occupy the prime farming lands, while Northerners, who arrived later, often settled in towns. Thus, the fact that many of the features discussed in this section are more common among rural speakers is no doubt a reflection of such early settlement tendencies.

5.

Discussion of features with localized distributions

It comes as no surprise that within an area so vast as the one treated in this chapter there are a number of pronunciation features that distinguish one region or city from others. The features described in this section illustrate some of the local phonological flavor to be heard in the West and Midwest. This list is not intended to be exhaustive, and interested readers can learn more about particular locations by consulting the specialist literature including the linguistic atlas projects. 5.1.

Monophthongal mid vowels in the Upper Midwest

For most speakers in the West and Midwest (as in other areas), the vowels of GOAT and FACE involve an upgliding diphthong; i.e., [o ] and [e
]. In the Upper

Midwest, however, these vowels are often produced as monophthongs, sometimes with lengthening: [o] ~ [o˘] and [e] ~ [e˘]. Data from the Linguistic Atlas of the Upper Midwest (Allen 1973-76) suggest that monophthongal variants are more common in GOAT items than in FACE items, and also that they are more common in coat than in ago or road, which may indicate phonological conditioning. Regionally, monophthongal mid vowels are more common in the northern tier of states. Linguistic Atlas records show them to be frequent in Minnesota and the Dakotas but much rarer in Iowa and Nebraska. The appearance of monophthongs in

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this region is sometimes explained as a consequence of the high degree of Scandinavian and German immigration to these northern states in the late nineteenth century. Thomas (2001) argues that these monophthongs are the product of language contact and notes that other areas where they occur are places where speakers of other languages have had an influence such as the Pennsylvania “Dutch” region. An alternative account posits that these monophthongal variants represent historical retentions. Diphthongization of the mid vowels seems to have been a relatively recent phenomenon, appearing within the last few centuries, and did not affect all dialects in the U.K. The monophthongs heard in the Upper Midwest may stem from the influence of Scots-Irish or other British dialects that maintain such forms. The fact that the monophthongs also appear in Canadian English may lend support to this account since Scots-Irish speech is known as an important influence in Canada. 5.2.

Lowering of lax front vowels in California

In California, the vowels of KIT and DRESS may undergo lowering, and the vowel of TRAP may undergo both lowering and backing which results in realizations near [], [æ], and [a] respectively. Impressionistic descriptions of this trend suggest six sounds like sex, sex like sax, and sax like socks. This lowering appears to be a recent development and may be a change in progress. It was not noted in earlier studies of California English and seems to have come to the attention of linguists only in the mid-1980s. It is reported to be especially characteristic of the speech of young urban women—a pattern that is consistent with its interpretation as an active change. The geographical extent of this lowering is not known, but it has been documented in both Southern California and the San Francisco Bay area (see Hagiwara 1997; Luthin 1987). The behavior of the lax front vowels in California bears a striking resemblance to a pattern heard north of the border and known as the Canadian shift (see Boberg, this volume). Dialect contact is unlikely to be responsible for this similarity. Rather, the lowering in both varieties seems to stem from a common structural motivation. Both in California and across Canada, the LOT and THOUGHT vowels are merged, and, as described above, the resulting vowel is typically low and quite back. This merger thus provides /æ/ with greater freedom to shift since it can be lowered and retracted into the low central area of vowel space without encroaching on the territory of the LOT/THOUGHT vowel. When /æ/ shifts, this creates an opening into which // may be lowered, which in turns creates an opening into which /
/ may lower. In this sense, the development of the lax vowels appears to be a chain shift, specifically a drag chain (see Labov 1994). 5.3.

/a / monophthongization in Pittsburgh

One of the more unusual characteristics of Pittsburgh speech is the monophthongization of /a / to [a˘]. Unlike the case of /a
/, monophthongization of /a / is rare

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in American English and has not been reported outside of Western Pennsylvania. Locally, social awareness of this feature is high, and it is commonly exemplified by spelling downtown as “dahntahn”. Monophthongization occurs in a variety of phonological contexts including following nasals (e.g., downtown), liquids (e.g., fowl, hour), and obstruents (e.g., house, out, cloudy). It is not found, however, word finally (e.g., how, now). Monophthongization appears to be especially characteristic of white working class speakers. Its origins are not well documented, but it seems to have arisen in the late nineteenth or early twentieth centuries during a period of rapid industrial growth for the city. At that time Pittsburgh saw a great influx of immigrants speaking other dialects as well as other languages, and monophthongal /a / is likely a product of that dialect contact. 5.4.

Tensing of /æ/ in Cincinnati

The vowel of TRAP, BATH, and DANCE, known as “short-a”, serves as a distinguishing feature of several American dialects. As noted above, the pattern found throughout most of the West and Midwest involves moderate raising of the vowel in the context of a following nasal. In Cincinnati, /æ/ is raised in this environment as well as before fricatives (e.g., have, path) and /d/ (e.g., bad). Phonetically, the raised variants are described as “tensed” because they typically involve a peripheral nucleus with an inglide; i.e., [e´]. Similar forms are heard in the Great Lakes region as part of the Northern Cities Shift and along the Atlantic Coast including the cities of Philadelphia and New York (see Gordon, this volume). However, the Cincinnati pattern is distinct from the others in terms of its conditioning. The tense forms appear in a wider range of contexts in Cincinnati speech than in the MidAtlantic dialects. Raising before voiced fricatives, for example, is very restricted in the East. On the other hand, tensing does not occur in all contexts, a fact that distinguishes Cincinnati speech from that affected by the Northern Cities Shift. Speakers in the Inland North, for example, will typically have raised forms before voiceless stops (e.g., cat) and /l/ (e.g., pal) while such items appear with a lax [æ] in Cincinnati. Actually, the Cincinnati pattern described here is today largely restricted to older speakers and appears to be undergoing change. Younger Cincinnatians seem to be moving toward the general Western pattern in which raising of /æ/ occurs only before nasals. 5.5.

Merger of /®/ and /ç®/ in St. Louis

As noted above, across most of the region discussed here the vowel of NORTH (historically /ç®/) merges with that of FORCE (historically /o®/). In the St. Louis area and perhaps elsewhere, however, an alternative merger occurs in which NORTH merges with START and so pairs such as for ~ far, lord ~ lard, and born ~ barn become homophones. The usual phonetic outcome of this merger is a back vowel near [Å] or

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[ç]. This feature carries a high degree of social awareness and is stereotypically represented in the pronunciation of the local highway forty-four as [f®#ifo®]. Research on this merger is limited, but it is reported to be most common among working class St. Louisans and is heard with decreasing frequency as one moves up the socioeconomic ladder. The merger appears to be recessive as younger St. Louisans tend to exhibit the more widespread pattern that merges NORTH with FORCE.

6.

Concluding remarks

In popular perception, the speech of the American Midwest and West is largely uniform and unremarkable. When asked to imitate the speech of a Southerner or a New Yorker, most Americans can comply even if they manage to offer only a stock phrase such as “Yall come back now, y’hear?” Asked to imitate the speech of someone from Kansas City or Denver or Portland, however, they are likely to reply with blank stares. The speech of these places does not draw comment, in part, because it is accepted as a kind of national norm. The accents of the West and Midwest tend to lack features that Americans perceive as regionally distinctive such as r-lessness. The fact that such regionally marked features are also very often avoided in the broadcast media contributes to this sense that “normal” speech is found in the West and Midwest. The label “General American” has been used to capture this notion of an unmarked accent that is heard across the nation outside of the South and the Atlantic Coast. Thus, the area originally associated with General American included not only those parts of the Midwest and West that are considered here but also the Great Lakes region. Nevertheless, with recent sound changes such as the Northern Cities Shift (see Gordon, this volume), the latter area, known to dialectologists as the Inland North, has grown more regionally distinctive and therefore has more difficulty passing for General American. The description provided in this chapter serves to counter the popular sense of a monolithic General American accent. The speech of the West and Midwest is richly variable. We have discussed features that vary from one region to another as well as features that vary from one group of speakers to another within a given region. Many of these features involve active sound changes. Changes such as the low back merger or the fronting of back vowels, which already have a widespread distribution, appear to still be spreading. At the same time many localized features such as /æ/ tensing in Cincinnati or the merger of /ç®/ and /®/ in St. Louis are on the decline. These trends are characteristic of dialect leveling, a process that leads to the reduction of regional variation. It might appear, then, that the monolithic General American accent of popular perception will eventually become reality. However, the wheels of language change will keep turning, and new trends will emerge that will continue to contribute to the variable linguistic landscape.

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Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Di Paolo, Marianna and Alice Faber 1990 Phonation differences and the phonetic content of the tense-lax contrast in Utah English. Language Variation and Change 2: 155–204. Hagiwara, Robert 1997 Dialect variation and formant frequency: The American English vowels revisited. Journal of the Acoustical Society of America 102: 655–658. Hartman, James W. 1985 Guide to pronunciation. In: Cassidy (ed.), xli-lxi. Hudson, John C. 1988 North American origins of middlewestern frontier populations. Annals of the Association of American Geographers 78: 395–413. Johnson, Lawrence 1975 Sound change and mobility in Los Angeles. Linguistics 143: 33–48. Labov, William 1991 The three dialects of English. In: Eckert (ed.), 1–44. Lusk, Melanie M. 1976 Phonological variation in Kansas City: A sociolinguistic analysis of threegeneration families. Ph.D. dissertation, Department of English, University of Kansas. Luthin, Herbert 1987 The story of California (ow): The coming-of-age of English in California. In: Keith Denning, Sharon Inkelas, Faye McNair-Knox, and John Rickford (eds.), Variation in Language: NWAV-XV at Stanford, 312–324. Stanford, CA: Department of Linguistics, Stanford University. Meinig, D.W. 1972 American Wests: Preface to a geographical interpretation. Annals of the Association of American Geographers 62: 159–184. Metcalf, Allan A. 1972 Directions of change in Southern California English. Journal of English Linguistics 6: 28–34. Watt, Dominic, and Lesley Milroy 1999 Patterns of variation and change in three Newcastle vowels: Is this dialect levelling? In: Foulkes and Docherty (eds), 25–46.

English in Canada: phonology Charles Boberg

1.

Introduction

As recently as 1948, Morton Bloomfield (1948: 59) was justified in remarking that very little research had been devoted to Canadian English, especially in comparison to American or British English. The projected Linguistic Atlas of the United States and Canada, which produced groundbreaking studies of dialect variation along the Atlantic seaboard of the United States, was never extended to Canada, beyond a few scattered informants in New Brunswick, Ontario, and Manitoba, interviewed in connection with studies of American English across the border. Since the 1950s, however, research on Canadian English has proliferated. It now comprises a substantial body of material focused on four major themes: 1) the historical origins of Canadian English; 2) alternation among American and British words, pronunciations, and usage in Canada; 3) the documentation of relic areas and traditional regional enclaves; and 4) Canadian Raising, the articulation of the diphthongs /aU/ and /aI/ with non-low nuclei when they occur before voiceless consonants, which became a standard example of the need for ordered rules in generative phonology. Overviews of the research in these areas can be found in Avis (1973), Bailey (1982) and Chambers (1979, 1991). The present chapter will focus on the sound of Canadian English, and in particular on those phonological and phonetic variables that are most useful for distinguishing Canadian English from other varieties, and for identifying regional varieties within Canada. The origins of Canadian English have been studied in light of the history of the settlement of Canada and will be briefly addressed in 2.1, below. The contributions of traditional dialectological research to determining the status of Canadian English in relation to American and British English will be the subject of 2.2. Section 3 will discuss three phonological features of Canadian English, while Section 4 will identify some phonetic patterns found in Canada. These sections will deal exclusively with vowels, as the author is not aware of any consonantal variables that show unique patterns in Canada. Finally, Section 5 will summarize the role of the U.S.-Canada border as a linguistic isogloss, and offer some comments on what the future may hold for Canadian English.

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2.

History and status of Canadian English

2.1.

Origins: Settlement and influences

Apart from Newfoundland, which is the oldest English-speaking colony in North America (founded 1583), the earliest substantial European settlement of what is today Canada was dominated by French rather than English colonists. French colonies were well established in eastern Canada by the mid-17th century, a period when the region was practically empty of English speakers. In the mid-18th century, however, the outcome of the struggle between France and England for control of North America was decided in favor of England, and the former French territories became British possessions by the Treaty of Paris (1763). English-speaking settlement followed, leading to the bilingual status of modern Canada, with two official languages. By the 19th century, English-speakers outnumbered French, and the dominance of English in Canada has continued to increase ever since. Today, of the Canadian population of 30 million people, French speakers account for less than a quarter, and these are mostly found in the province of Quebec, which is 81% French-speaking. Outside Quebec – and neighboring parts of New Brunswick and eastern Ontario, which are bilingual – Canada is generally English-speaking. The important exception to this is the large cities, where, as in the United States, the English-speaking population has been augmented by immigrants whose mother tongues come from every corner of the world. The four and a half million people of Toronto, for example, are about 59 per cent English-speaking, one per cent French-speaking, and 40 per cent native speakers of other languages, like Chinese (8%), Italian (4%), and Portuguese (2%). Vancouver, with close to two million people, is 61 per cent English-speaking, one per cent French-speaking, and 38 per cent ‘other’, with Chinese (15%) and Punjabi (5%) accounting for the biggest nonEnglish groups. Montreal’s 400,000 English-speakers (12% of the population) are outnumbered not only by speakers of French, the majority language (69%), but also by speakers of non-official languages, who now account for 19 per cent of the population. In total, only 59 per cent of Canadians – some 17 million people –are native speakers of English (Statistics Canada 2001). On the other hand, Canadian English is generally not divided like American English along racial lines; with a few local exceptions, all native speakers of English in Canada share a common variety. Two inescapable facts have dominated previous discussions of Canadian English. The first is that, in spite of Canada’s being a British colony until 1867 and enjoying close cultural ties with Britain for many decades thereafter, Canadian English is fundamentally a North American variety. The second is that, with the obvious exception of Newfoundland, which was a separate British colony until 1949 and remains to this day linguistically distinct from the rest of Canada, Canadian English is remarkably homogeneous from one end of the country to the

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other. This is particularly true in the broad stretch of territory extending almost 3,000 miles (4,500 km) from Ottawa and Kingston, Ontario, in the east, to Vancouver and Victoria, British Columbia, in the west, including all the major cities of central and western Canada. While traditional enclaves remain in a few places, modern, urban Canada does not exhibit anything approaching the dialect diversity of the United States, let alone that of Britain. Instead, one type of English, with minor regional variations, is spoken across most of the country, and central and western Canadians are generally incapable of guessing each other’s regional origins on the basis of accent or dialect. These two facts have been explained in terms of Canada’s settlement history, which comprises three distinct stages. The first major English-speaking settlement of Canada came not directly from Britain but from the British colonies in what are today the United States (Avis 1973: 44–47). First to arrive were thousands of migrants from Eastern New England in the early 1760s, who took up land in Nova Scotia that had been abandoned by French-speaking Acadians expelled by the British government. Next came thousands of “United Empire Loyalists”, known as “Tories” in the United States: American colonists loyal to the British crown in the American Revolution. The Loyalists joined the New Englanders in Nova Scotia and became the first large and permanent group of English-speaking settlers in three other regions: New Brunswick (especially the city of Saint John); the “Eastern Townships” of Quebec (south of the St. Lawrence River); and Ontario (the Kingston and Niagara regions on either end of Lake Ontario). “Late Loyalist” migration from the U.S. to Canada continued for several decades after the Revolution, so that by 1812, when Britain and the U.S. fought their last territorial conflict, Ontario (then called Upper Canada) had a population of around 100,000 that was predominantly American; people who had immigrated directly from Britain constituted a small minority of about 5,000 (Avis 1973: 46). In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Americans also played a major role in settling Western Canada, along with other groups (Avis 1973: 48–49). The result was that, in almost every region of Canada except Newfoundland, Americans predominated or were an important element among the earliest settlers and must have had a significant influence on what later emerged as local speech. Avis (1954: 14) and Bloomfield (1948: 62) argue that these facts explain the overwhelmingly North American sound of Canadian English, despite large-scale subsequent immigration from Britain and elsewhere: American speech patterns were already in place when the British settlers arrived. The recent arrivals, like immigrants elsewhere and in other times, found themselves adapting to these patterns rather than imposing new ones from abroad. The exceptions to this development are the areas where new settlements were made by relatively homogeneous groups of immigrants arriving directly from Britain in large numbers and in specific locations in the 19th century. These survive today as the traditional enclaves of regional speech referred to above: Newfoundland; Cape Breton (northern Nova Scotia); and the Ottawa Valley of eastern Ontario.

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A different view of the origins of Canadian English is advanced by Scargill (1957), who chooses to emphasize the importance of the second major stage in the settlement of Canada: direct immigration from Britain, which reached a peak in the mid-19th century. Scargill points out that Bloomfield’s “Loyalist theory” of the origins of Canadian English is flawed in two crucial respects (1957: 611–612). First, it ignores the numerical superiority of British over American settlement. British immigration is measured not in the tens but in the hundreds of thousands. Scargill finds it improbable that these much greater numbers could all have adapted their speech perfectly to a rigid model laid down by a comparatively small number of original American settlers. Second, Scargill warns against using comparisons between Canadian English and modern standard Southern British English (Received Pronunciation) as evidence of the American character of Canadian English, since this was not the variety spoken by the majority of British immigrants to Canada. He points out that many of the features of Canadian English that the incautious observer might automatically attribute to American influence could just as well have their origins in the regional speech of Northern or Western Britain, which predominated among 19th century British immigrants. If we grant that Loyalist speech had at least some influence on the future development of English in Canada, this settlement history lends to the study of Canadian English an additional interest to scholars of American English, since Canadian speech may preserve features of colonial American English that have since been erased by subsequent linguistic change in the U.S. (Bloomfield 1948: 65–66). In Nova Scotia, American settlement came mostly from Eastern New England. In New Brunswick and Ontario, by contrast, it came mostly from Vermont, New York State, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania (Avis 1973: 46). American settlement in western Canada came from a much wider range of places, including the American Midwest; moreover, some of these settlers were recent European immigrants to the U.S., so that the extent to which they carried identifiable regional American dialects into Canada is questionable. The third stage in the settlement of Canada came largely from non-Englishspeaking countries, producing the linguistic diversity in major cities referred to above. This wave of immigration began in the late 19th century and peaked in the decades after the Second World War, drawing mostly on southern, central, and eastern Europe. It continues today, though in recent decades its sources have shifted increasingly away from Europe to Asia and Latin America. Apart from the contribution of loan words, this last stage of immigration has had little effect on Canadian English, except where large, linguistically homogeneous concentrations of immigrants live in relatively segregated communities where they predominate numerically. Examples of the latter would be religiously-based communities of German-speakers in the rural West, like Mennonites in southern Manitoba, and certain ethnic enclaves in large cities, like Italians and Jews in Montreal and Toronto; in these cases, immigrant language substrates may be heard to varying degrees in the local varieties of Canadian English.

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355

Status: British vs. American identity; place in a taxonomy of North American dialects

The status of Canadian English with respect to American and British English has been a primary concern of many linguists studying Canadian English, and of commentators and critics outside academic circles. As Scargill asserted, the large number of British immigrants in the 19th century, together with the use of British English for official purposes during the colonial period and to some extent beyond, had a significant impact on Canadian English, which today shows the effect of a standard Southern British superstratum having been imposed on a North American variety. As a result, modern Canadian usage varies between standard British and American forms on a long list of variables concerning phonemic incidence, morphosyntax, lexicon, and general usage. Spelling has traditionally followed British practice in many respects (e.g., colour and centre rather than color and center), though spelling too shows American influence, which has recently increased. Very few if any Canadians would write tyre, gaol, or kerb for tire, jail, or curb, and many now write color and center as well. Studying the alternation among British and American words, pronunciations, and usage in Canada has been the main preoccupation of the largest body of research on Canadian English. Beginning in the 1950s (Avis 1954–56), this tradition employed written surveys to investigate variables such as whether missile sounds like mile or thistle; whether progress (the noun) has /oU/ or /Å/ in the first syllable; whether dived or dove is the past tense of dive; and whether people say tap or faucet, trousers or pants, and in hospital or in the hospital. It culminated in a nationwide postal survey representing 14,000 participants (secondary school students and their parents) from every province of Canada, divided by age and sex, and covering a wide range of variables at every level of grammar, except of course phonetics (Scargill and Warkentyne 1972). The tradition has recently been renewed, with a sociolinguistic perspective and some methodological innovations, under the name of Dialect Topography (Chambers 1994). The general finding of these surveys has been to confirm what might be predicted from settlement and cultural history and from the present cultural dominance of the United States: that Canadian English exhibits a mix of American and British forms, varying slightly from one region to another, which is gradually shifting towards increasing use of American forms among younger Canadians. The Americanization of Canadian English at these levels has been a popular topic in both academic and popular circles. While many early students of English in Canada sought to promote its affinities with either British or American English, a growing sense of Canadian identity in the decades after the Second World War produced a third view of the status of Canadian English, which preferred to emphasize a small but significant set of features that are uniquely Canadian. This position was espoused by Scargill (1957: 612), and was the motivation behind the compilation of the Dictionary of Canadianisms

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on Historical Principles (Avis et al. 1967). However, apart from a few items like the well-worn example of chesterfield for couch (which is strongly recessive and practically extinct among younger Canadians), these unique Canadianisms draw too heavily on the obvious categories of words connected with traditional, obsolescent occupations and with local flora, fauna, and topographic features, to make a very convincing case for a unique Canadian lexicon. In the more important domain of general vocabulary, Canadian usage inclines overwhelmingly toward the American variants of pairs like chemist/drugstore, chips/fries, lift/elevator, lorry/ truck, petrol/gas, spanner/wrench, and torch/flashlight. The questionnaire tradition has tended to overstate the British element in Canadian English, insofar as it concentrates by necessity on phonemic incidence and the lexicon, where British superstratal influence was strongest, exercised through schools, dictionaries, the media, and other institutions. The smaller amount of work done in descriptive phonetics and phonology, together with the component of the usage surveys that deals with phonological inventory, shows a clear preponderance of non-Southern British variants. The vocalization of /r/ and the split of Middle English /a/ (TRAP vs. BATH) have never had any currency in vernacular Canadian speech, and younger Canadians now flap intervocalic /t/ and delete the glide in words like news and student pretty much to the same extent and in the same environments as most Americans do (De Wolf 1992; Gregg 1957: 25–26). Combined with the merger of /Å/ and /ç˘ – the vowels of LOT and THOUGHT, or cot and caught – which is nearly universal in Canada, and of a maximal number of vowels before /r/ (both discussed in Section 3, below), these phonological features cause Canadian English to sound very similar to the North Midland and Western varieties of American English that underlie the popular conception of “General American” speech. One exception to this assessment is Canadian Raising, which will be discussed below in Section 4.1. Another, much less well-known and studied but equally pervasive and distinctive, is the Canadian Shift, involving most notably a backing of /Q/ to [a], which will be the concern of Section 4.4. Phonetic variables of this type are of course beyond a written survey’s powers of observation, but are the principal focus of the present chapter. It is therefore to the phonology and phonetics of Canadian English that we now turn.

3.

Phonological features of Canadian English

3.1.

The low-back merger (the LOT and THOUGHT sets)

The most significant defining feature of Canadian English at the phonological level is the general consistency across the country of the merger between /Å/ and /ç˘/, the vowels of cot and caught (or LOT and THOUGHT), in the low-back corner of the vowel space. While this merger is by no means unique to Canada, being shared

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with neighboring areas of Eastern New England, Western Pennsylvania, and the Western United States and thereby causing Labov (1991) to include Canada with these regions in his “Third Dialect”, it is nevertheless a unifying feature of English across Canada with important phonetic ramifications, to be discusssed below in relation to the Canadian Shift. For virtually all native speakers of Canadian English today, the pairs cot and caught, sod and sawed, stock and stalk, Don and dawn, and collar and caller are homophones. The dialectological literature on this merger suggests that it is well entrenched in Canadian English and is at least several generations old. For example, Scargill and Warkentyne (1972: 64) record an average of 85% of Canadians responding ‘yes’ to a survey question that asked whether cot and caught rhyme. Since this was a written survey in which spelling may have influenced responses, it seems safe to speculate that the real rate of merger was very close to 100%. Indeed, a generation earlier, Gregg (1957: 22) reported an exceptionless merger among Vancouver university students. Avis (1973: 64) and the limited data on Canada in Labov (1991: 32) also suggest a consistent merger across Canada, as do more recent data from Labov, Ash, and Boberg (fc.). In Newfoundland, the same merger can be observed, but the merged vowel is produced further forward in the mouth, in low-central position. At a phonetic level, this means that a Newfoundlander’s production of a word like cod will be very close to that heard in the “Northern Cities” of the Inland Northern or Great Lakes region of the United States: something like [kAd]. At the phonological level, of course, the two dialects differ. In Newfoundland, caught would have the same low-central vowel as cod, whereas in the American Inland North, caught represents a distinct phonemic category, with a higher, backer vowel. This is one of many distinctive features of Newfoundland English that reflect its origins in southwestern England and southeastern Ireland. Others include a centralized pronunciation of /Ar/ (see below), a back pronunciation of /√/, and a spirantized articulation of post-vocalic /t/. 3.2.

Mergers before /r/

A conditioned merger of several vowels before intervocalic /r/ also characterizes Canadian English from coast to coast (with one important exception beyond the usual case of Newfoundland) and unites it with other North American varieties, in this case all of those dialects that were not affected by the vocalization of /r/. In Canada, /eI/, /E/ and /Q/ are all merged before intervocalic /r/ at approximately [E], a lower-mid to upper-mid front quality, so that Mary, merry and marry all sound like a slightly lengthened version of merry. This was first noted by Gregg (1957: 82) in Vancouver, though he suggests it was a change in progress when he collected his data. Apart from some variability in Newfoundland, the important exception to this pattern is Montreal, where /Q/ remains distinct from the other two vowels before /r/: carry does not rhyme with berry, but berry rhymes with dairy.

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In addition to this merger of front vowels, most Canadians have lost the distinction between several pairs of mid and back vowels before /r/. Like most standard varieties of English, Canadian English does not distinguish /ç˘/ and /oU/ in this environment (for and four, horse and hoarse), and as in the Midwestern and Western U.S., /√/ and /´/ (hurry and her) are also not distinct, both having the sound of [´], or simply of a syllabic [®]. A noteworthy feature of Canadian English, which might be expected from the general merger of /Å/ and /ç˘/, is that the merger of these vowels before /r/ is virtually complete, and does not exclude the residue of unmerged forms that is found in phonologically similar American dialects. In Canada, even the common words borrow, sorry, and tomorrow usually have the vowels of bore, sore, and more, whereas in most American speech they retain a low, unrounded articulation similar to that of the /Ar/ class, even where less common words like forest, historical, and orange have merged with four, store, and oar. The Canadian pronunciation of sorry with a lower-mid-back vowel is particularly striking to many American ears. 3.3.

The Canadian pattern for foreign (a) words

The phonological adaptation or nativization of loan words can be a source of variation in any language. In English, one of the most remarkable examples of this variation concerns the nativization of foreign words containing the letter , usually representing a low-central vowel quality in the source language, e.g. falafel, karate, llama, macho, nirvana, pasta, plaza, souvlaki, taco, etc. Such words are usually nativized with either /Q/ (TRAP) or /A˘/ (PALM) as their stressed vowel, but each major national variety of English has developed its own pattern of assignment. British English tends to use /Q/, except where spelling and other factors conspire to suggest that the syllable should be treated as open, in which case /A˘/ must occur, given the restriction on /Q/ in stressed open syllables. Thus pasta has /Q/, while llama has /A˘/. American English, by contrast, prefers to use /A˘/: both pasta and llama have /A˘/ (which is not distinct from /Å/ [LOT] in most American dialects). The traditional Canadian pattern, however, is to use /Q/ in almost all foreign (a) words, even when both British and American English agree on /A˘/. The only regular exception to this is in final stressed open syllables (bra, eclat, faux pas, foie gras, spa, etc.), where /Q/ cannot appear. While many younger Canadians are beginning to follow the American pattern in some instances (relatively few young people still use /Q/ in macho or taco), most Canadians retain /Q/ in both pasta and llama, and even in older loan words like drama, garage, and Slavic, where it may sound odd to speakers of other varieties (Boberg 2000).

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359

Phonetic features of Canadian English

A general view of the phonetic quality of Canadian English vowels can be obtained from Table 1, which gives an approximate phonetic transcription of each of the keywords used to represent Wells’ lexical sets. These transcriptions are necessarily approximate, because small degrees of regional, social, and inter-speaker variation do of course exist, even in the largely homogeneous context described above. With this limitation, they can be taken to represent the general character of the vowels of Standard Canadian English. A more detailed view of the most distinctive aspects of Canadian pronunciation is given below. Table 1. Phonetic transcription of typical Canadian pronunciations of the keywords in Wells’ lexical sets. KIT DRESS TRAP LOT STRUT FOOT BATH CLOTH NURSE FLEECE FACE

4.1.

I E Q~a Å √ U Q~a Å ´® Ii eI

PALM THOUGHT GOAT GOOSE PRIZE PRICE CHOICE COW MOUTH NEAR SQUARE

Å˘ Å PU ¨u AI √I ~ ŒI ~ åI çI aU ~ AU √U ~ ŒU I® E®

STAR START NORTH FORCE CURE happY lettER horsES commA

A® > å® √® > å® ç® ç® j´® > jU® > jP® i ´® ´ å

Canadian Raising (the PRICE and MOUTH sets)

Canadian Raising, the pronunciation of the diphthongs /aI/ (PRICE) and /aU/ (MOUTH) with non-low nuclei when they occur before voiceless consonants, was first systematically analyzed by Joos (1942), who noticed that raising interacts with flapping to produce apparently phonemic oppositions between raised and unraised vowels in pairs like writer vs. rider, at least in some varieties of Canadian English. Chambers (1973) showed how these patterns could be accounted for in a generative framework by means of variable rule ordering. Canadian Raising is by no means unique to Canada, even within North America. Raised nuclei in one or both diphthongs have been documented in eastern Virginia (Kurath and McDavid 1961), Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts (Labov 1972a), Philadelphia (Labov 1994), and the Inland North. Moreover, not all Canadians exhibit Canadian Raising: urban varieties in particular display considerable social variation in this regard, with some speakers raising less than others, or not at all. However, if it does not uniquely or consistently characterize all speakers of Canadian English, Canadian Raising nevertheless continues to be a reliable

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and distinctive identifier of Canadian speech in most of the country and is the basis of the most popular American stereotype of Canadian speech, if only as it applies to /aU/. Even among those Canadians who show consistent Canadian Raising, its phonetic implementation is not uniform across Canada. Most Canadians have two principal allophones of /aI/ (raised to lower-mid position before voiceless consonants and low-central or low-back elsewhere) and three of /aU/ (raised before voiceless consonants, fronted to [aU] or [QU] before nasals, and low-central elsewhere). One of the few phonetic variables that divides Canadians regionally is the articulation of the raised allophone of /aU/. In Ontario, it tends to have a midcentral or even mid-front articulation, sometimes approaching [EU], while in the West and Maritimes a more retracted sound is heard, closer to [√U]. Among some speakers on the Prairies and in Nova Scotia, the retraction is strong enough to cause some tokens of raised /aU/ to merge with /oU/, so that couch and coach sound the same, and about sounds like a boat (though never like a boot, as in the American stereotype of Canadian Raising). 4.2.

Raising of /r/ (the START set)

Canadian pronunciation of words in the START set commonly involves a non-low nucleus, especially as a result of nuclear shortening before voiceless consonants. As with Canadian Raising, the relative advancement of the raised nucleus is a regional indicator. A striking feature of Atlantic Canadian speech (the Maritimes and Newfoundland) is a nucleus that approaches the front region of the vowel space, accompanied by strong rhoticity, ranging from [Œ®] to [å®]. Western Canadian speech has a much more retracted articulation with a longer non-rhotic portion, approaching a mid-back quality, [P®] (though there is no tendency toward a merger with NORTH/FORCE). Articulation of START in Ontario is in a position midway between the Atlantic and Western values. 4.3.

Raising of /æ/ before nasals and //

Unlike in many American English dialects, /Q/ remains a low-front vowel in most environments in Canadian English. Raising along the front periphery of the vowel space is restricted to two environments – before nasal and voiced velar consonants – and varies regionally even in these. Ontario and Maritime Canadian English commonly show some raising before nasals, though not as extreme as in many American varieties. Much less raising is heard on the Prairies, and some ethnic groups in Montreal show no pre-nasal raising at all. On the other hand, some Prairie speech exhibits raising of /Q/ before voiced velars (/g/ and /N/), with an up-glide rather than an in-glide, so that bag sounds close to vague.

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361

The Canadian shift (the KIT, DRESS, and TRAP sets)

Labov (1991) proposed a three-dialect model of North American English based on two key phonological variables and their consequent phonetic developments. In this model, Canadian English was classified with several other dialects that appeared to show relative phonetic stability, compared to the complex patterns of chain-shifting that characterized the Northern and Southern dialects. A few years later, Clarke, Elms, and Youssef (1995) published a report on what they called the Canadian Shift, asserting that, far from being phonetically stable, Canadian English was involved in its own set of phonetic shifts, primarily affecting /I/, /E/, and /Q/, the KIT, DRESS, and TRAP sets. The young Ontario speakers they studied showed a retraction of /Q/ to [a] (filling the low-central space made available by the low-back, LOT-THOUGHT merger), a lowering of /E/ toward /Q/, and a lowering of /I/ toward /E/. The most salient aspect of this chain shift, especially in the larger North American context, is the retraction of /Q/. The resulting quality is similar to that heard in the TRAP and BATH sets in Northern British English, in contrast with the fully fronted and often raised quality of /Q/ in much of the United States, and in particular in the American varieties spoken in the Inland Northern region along the border with central Canada. In fact, the Canadian Shift and the Northern Cities Shift (Labov 1991, 1994) involve directly opposite developments of the low vowels, so that the TRAP class in much Canadian speech has virtually the same vowel quality as the LOT class in the Great Lakes region of the U.S. The productions [hat] and [kap] would designate items of headwear in Ontario, but would be the opposite of cold and an informal term for a police officer across the border in southeastern Michigan or Western New York. 4.5.

The fronting of /u/ (the GOOSE set)

Another change in progress in Canadian English, part of a continental trend affecting many North American varieties, is the fronting of /u˘/, whereby the nucleus of /u˘/ moves forward to high-central or even high-front position, directly behind /i˘/. There is a wide allophonic dispersion in the GOOSE set, extending over most of the high region of the vowel space. Most advanced are tokens of /u˘/ in free position after coronals (do, too); behind these are tokens in syllables closed with coronals (boots, food, soon), then tokens before non-coronals (goof, soup); remaining in back position are tokens of /u˘/ before /l/ (cool, pool, tool). Unlike in some British speech, Canadian English does not show any fronting or unrounding of the glide of /u˘/, and most Canadians show no parallel centralization of /oU/, which generally remains in back position, except in Cape Breton and Newfoundland.

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5.

Summary and conclusions

5.1.

The phonetic and phonological status of the U.S.-Canada border

Avis (1954–56) and Chambers (1994), among others, have shown how the international boundary between Ontario and the U.S. is a sharp linguistic isogloss for a wide range of variables at different levels of grammar, even though Avis (1954: 13) suggests that, from a broader perspective, the differences between Ontario speech and adjacent parts of the United States are minimal. However, these studies have generally dealt with non-phonetic data. The question of the linguistic significance of the U.S.-Canada border at the level of phonetics and phonology – and especially at the level of the vowel sounds that make up our primary impression of the regional character of someone’s speech – has only now begun to be systematically investigated (Labov, Ash, and Boberg, fc.; Boberg 2000). In general, phonological and phonetic data indicate a border effect that diminishes in importance from east to west. In the east, the completely different phonological systems of Eastern New England and Maritime Canada are directly opposed across the international border. Though both regions share a low-back merger and a conservative treatment of /u˘/ and /oU/, eastern Canada was not affected by the Southern British innovations – vocalization of /r/ and the split of Middle English /a – that shaped modern Eastern New England speech. This fact helps in the dating of these changes in New England, since Nova Scotia was settled by New Englanders: it seems likely that the changes became general after the emigration of New Englanders to Canada in the mid-18th century. In the middle of the continent, the border between Canadian speech in Ontario and Inland Northern speech on the other side of the Great Lakes is remarkably sharp. It separates two different phonological systems, along with the phonetic developments that follow from them. On the Canadian side, a low-back merger has produced a backing of /Q/ in the Canadian Shift; on the American side, a low-back distinction has been preserved by a raising of /Q/ and a centralization of /Å/ in the Northern Cities Shift. Boberg (2000) showed that there was no sign of phonetic or phonological interference across the Detroit River between Detroit, Michigan, and Windsor, Ontario, despite the prediction of current models of geolinguistic diffusion that Windsor would be linguistically assimilated to its much larger American neighbor, not to speak of the importance of American settlement in the origins of Ontario English. In western North America, however, the international boundary no longer represents a coherent bundle of isoglosses, with the exception that it marks the southern extent of Canadian raising (especially of /aU/) and of more extreme versions of the Canadian shift. Western North America, to a large extent, shares a common phonological system and very similar phonetics. The blurring of linguistic boundaries in the West, a well-established fact in American dialectology, is not merely a feature

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of American English, but of the continent as a whole, reflecting relatively sparse and recent settlement from a mixture of sources. People living in Saskatchewan and North Dakota, Alberta and Montana, or British Columbia and Washington can certainly hear a difference between their own speech and that of their neighbors across the border, but this difference would seem very small indeed to someone from outside the region. Notwithstanding the varying border effects discussed above, it must be admitted that certain changes in North American English seem to be diffusing rapidly over most of the continent, including Canada. One of these, discussed above, is the fronting of /u˘/. Others include the loss of /j/ in /ju˘/ after coronals (news, student, tube, etc.), the merger of /hw/ and /w/ (whether vs. weather, etc.), and the spread of be like as a verb of quotation (I was like, what’s up with that?). Moreover, the mass media, which are essentially common to all of North America, spread lexical innovations rapidly across the border, thereby further leveling the differences between Canadian and American English. It remains to be seen which differences will ultimately survive this erosion, and which new differences will arise to take the place of obsolete ones as people on each side of the border strive to sustain linguistic symbols of their sense of community. 5.2.

Canada within the dialect taxonomy of North American English

Some dialectologists, on the basis of lexical evidence, or selected phonological evidence, have classified Canada as an extension of the Inland North region of the United States, which is intuitively satisfying in a geographic sense. However, at a deeper, structural level, Canada differs from the Inland North in a crucial respect – the low-back merger – and this difference has produced an enormous phonetic divergence between Inland Northern and Canadian speech. Phonologically, Canada has more in common with the North Midland and Western regions of the United States than with the Inland North, probably because the genesis of Canadian English involved the same dialect-leveling among heterogeneous migrants and pioneers that made the low-back merger a general feature of the Western United States. This particularly applies to Ontario and western Canada, which together represent by far the largest portion of the Canadian English-speaking population. The speech of these regions can certainly be included with that of the American North Midland and West under one general type of English, at least at a broad level of analysis. As for eastern Canada, while the Ottawa Valley, Montreal, the Eastern Townships, the Maritimes, and Cape Breton may all once have exhibited rich linguistic diversity, all of these regions (and even, to an extent, Newfoundland, especially since its confederation with Canada in 1949) now exhibit a rapidly advancing convergence with Standard Canadian English, at least among younger, middle-class speakers. They, too, can probably now be included under the same category as Ontario and the West.

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It may be foolish to speculate on the future of Canadian English, given the uncertain outcome of the interplay of forces of global and local prestige that is always present in the evolution of languages, but the obvious importance of the increasing integration of the two English-speaking nations of North America cannot be overlooked. In an age of instant transmission of language across political borders, of frequent international travel and migration, and of ever-closer economic and cultural integration, Canadian English cannot help but come under greater assimilatory pressure than it has ever experienced in its history. Whether this pressure will overcome the obstacles to assimilation in the more resistant levels of grammar, particularly phonetics and phonology, remains to be seen. At present, there is no indication that Canadian English is about to disappear at these levels; on the contrary, it seems likely that, at a time when so many other differences have fallen prey to continental cultural convergence, the sound of Canadian English will be closely bound up with Canadians’ sense of their national identity for many generations to come.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Avis, Walter S. 1954–56 Speech differences along the Ontario-United States border. Journal of the Canadian Linguistic Association 1: 13–18, 1: 14–19 and 2: 41–59. 1973 The English language in Canada. In: Thomas A. Sebeok (ed.), Current Trends in Linguistics 10: Linguistics in North America, 40–74. The Hague: Mouton. Bailey, Richard W. 1982 The English language in Canada. In: Bailey and Görlach (eds.), 137–176. Bloomfield, Morton 1948 Canadian English and its relation to eighteenth century American speech. Journal of English and Germanic Philology 47: 59–67. Boberg, Charles 2000 Geolinguistic diffusion and the U.S.-Canada border. Language Variation and Change 12: 1–24. Chambers, J.K. 1973 Canadian raising. Canadian Journal of Linguistics 18: 113–135. 1979 Canadian English. In: J.K. Chambers (ed.), The Languages of Canada, 168– 204. Montreal: Didier. 1991 Canada. In: Cheshire (ed.), 89–107. 1994 An introduction to dialect topography. English World-Wide 15: 35–53. Clarke, Sandra, Ford Elms and Amani Youssef 1995 The third dialect of English: Some Canadian evidence. Language Variation and Change 7: 209–228.

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Gregg, Robert J. 1957 Notes on the pronunciation of Canadian English as spoken in Vancouver, B.C. Journal of the Canadian Linguistic Association 3: 20–26. Joos, Martin 1942 A phonological dilemma in Canadian English. Language 18: 141–144. Labov, William 1991 The three dialects of English. In: Eckert (ed.), 1–44. Scargill, Matthew H. 1957 Sources of Canadian English. Journal of English and Germanic Philology 56: 610–614. Scargill, Matthew H. and Henry J. Warkentyne 1972 The Survey of Canadian English: A report. English Quarterly 5: 47–104. Statistics Canada [Statistical Agency of the Government of Canada]. 2001 www.statcan.ca.

Newfoundland English: phonology Sandra Clarke*

1.

Introduction

The vernacular speech of the North Atlantic island of Newfoundland has always been highly distinct from that of most of mainland North America. It does however share a number of structural characteristics with varieties spoken in the neighbouring Canadian Maritime provinces, as well as in other early-settled areas of the New World, including the Caribbean. The reasons for this distinctiveness can be traced to several sources – notably, the settlement history of the area, coupled with its relative geographical isolation at the eastern periphery of North America. Along with its continental portion, Labrador, Newfoundland did not become a province of Canada until 1949; prior to that, as “Britain’s oldest colony”, the island constituted an independent British dominion. Newfoundland’s association with Britain dates back to the 16th century. The island was officially claimed by the British crown in 1583, to ensure that British interests dominated in the European exploitation of the region’s rich fisheries resources. Though it did not see its major influx of immigrants until the first decades of the 19th century, Newfoundland was one of the earliest British-settled areas of the New World, with continuous settlement from the beginning of the 17th century. The European founder population of Newfoundland and coastal Labrador – henceforth referred to simply as Newfoundland – was quite distinct from that of much of mainland English-speaking Canada, the early population base of which consisted largely of British loyalists who migrated northward after the American War of Independence. Until the 20th century, settlers to Newfoundland were drawn almost exclusively from two principal, and highly circumscribed, geographical sources. These were the southwest (SW) counties of England, where the Dorset city of Poole served as the chief port of embarkation; and the southeast (SE) counties of Ireland, where the port of Waterford played a similar role. The extremely localized nature of its immigrant population sets Newfoundland apart from much of mainland North America. The peripheral geographical location of the area has also proven a defining factor in the history and development of Newfoundland English (NfldE). Hand in hand with this go socioeconomic factors: the vagaries of the region’s resourcebased economy, in which the fishery has played a central role, resulted in lack of substantial in-migration after the mid-19th century. Throughout Newfoundland’s history, many of the island’s residents have been scattered in small rural coastal

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“outport” fishing communities, most of which were highly endocentric in that they displayed dense local networks, yet loose connections outside the local area. The overall population of the region has remained small: the province currently has a total of just over half a million residents, almost a third of whom reside in or near the capital city, St. John’s. The population also remains remarkably homogeneous: over 90% of present-day residents were born within Newfoundland. From a linguistic perspective, these geographical, socioeconomic and demographic factors have had a conservative effect. Until fairly recently, NfldE was little influenced by the varieties spoken in mainland North America; rather, its dominant characteristic was retention of features which characterized its source varieties in SW England and SE Ireland (see Clarke fc.). Though many of these features are recessive today, they are still sufficiently strong to maintain the general distinctiveness of the Newfoundland accent. Since World War II and union with Canada, Newfoundland’s links with North America have expanded in all spheres: economic, social and cultural. NfldE has increasingly come under the influence of mainland North American models. While many present-day Newfoundlanders profess pride in their distinct ethnic and cultural identity, others – particularly younger and more educated residents of the province – view this heritage in anything but a positive light. Their negative feelings towards NfldE are compounded by the attitudes of mainland Canadians, who on the whole tend to disparage the province’s distinctive dialects as symbolic of Newfoundland’s “backwardness” and lack of economic prosperity. In spite of the economic opportunities offered by recent discoveries of offshore oil and gas, the almost total collapse of the cod fishery has resulted in increasing outmigration to the Canadian mainland, and the Newfoundland population is currently on the decline. At present, there is a considerable range of dialect diversity within Newfoundland, which correlates with both social and regional factors, as well as speech register. At one extremity are upwardly mobile younger urban speakers, whose increasingly exocentric orientation is reflected in the fact that their accent is coming more and more to approximate standard mainland Canadian English (CanE). At the other are older, working-class and primarily rural speakers, whose more conservative phonological systems continue to display many traces of the regional British and Irish varieties brought to the province several centuries ago. Because of settlement patterns within Newfoundland, linguistic distinctions between the two principal founder groups – the SW English and the SE Irish – continue to be much in evidence. The Irish population is concentrated in the southeast corner of the island, in the southern part of the Avalon peninsula; the city of St. John’s, situated towards the northern extremity of the Irish-settled Avalon, displays a number of characteristic southern Irish features, even in its more standard subvarieties. Outside the Avalon, settlement was overwhelmingly from SW England, with two notable exceptions – the southwest corner of the island, a mixed area of French, Scottish and Irish settlement; and the mainland portion of the province, Labra-

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dor, with its aboriginal substratum. Though both traditional “English” and “Irish” dialects of the province share certain conservative features (e.g. monophthongal pronunciations of the vowels of FACE and GOAT), they also maintain a number of inherited distinctions, including the articulation of /h/ and postvocalic /l/. Among younger rural speakers throughout the province, however, competition from more standard supralocal varieties is resulting in increasing loss of local variants, particularly in formal speech styles. A number of features that were the norm in rural fishing communities two or three generations ago are now highly recessive. Though space does not permit full referencing for individual features, the following descriptions of the phonology of NfldE draw on a wide range of sources, among them Seary, Story and Kirwin (1968); Noseworthy (1971); Paddock (1981); Colbourne (1982); Story, Kirwin and Widdowson ([1982] 1990); Clarke (1991, fc.); Lanari (1994); and Halpert and Widdowson (1996). A number of observations also derive from transcriptions of recordings of conservative speakers held by the Memorial University Folklore and Language Archive (MUNFLA).

2.

Vowels

While the phonological inventory of standard NfldE displays the same number of phonemes as do standard North American varieties, their phonetic realization is by no means identical, particularly with respect to vowels. The NfldE low vowel associated with the LOT/CLOTH/THOUGHT classes is typically articulated in the low central area of vowel space, that is, as considerably more fronted than the usual mainland Canadian realizations of [] or []. The low-mid /æ/ vowel, as in TRAP, is also usually more fronted in NfldE than in the Canadian norm; the same fronted /æ/ may occur in the START set. The phenomenon of “Canadian Raising - that is, the use of a mid rather than low vowel onset in the diphthongs /a
/ and /a
/ before a tautosyllabic voiceless obstruent – is often not in evidence among speakers of NfldE; this is particularly true for the MOUTH set. Rather, many Newfoundlanders use a somewhat raised mid-open vowel, in the range of [//√], in all items of the PRICE/PRIZE and MOUTH/LOUD classes - that is, irrespective of following linguistic environment. Many speakers, as well, display a reduced system of vowel contrasts before /r/ in their casual styles, the result of a tendency towards merger of the NEAR/SQUARE sets, as well as of the NORTH/FORCE/CURE sets. Table 1 provides a summary of principal variants. 2.1.

Lax vowels

KIT

This vowel is typically realized in all varieties of NfldE as standard lax [
]. More traditional or conservative vernacular speakers from all areas of the province dis-

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Table 1.

369

Principal vowel variants in NfldE

KIT

I>i~E

DRESS

E > I > E4 ~ Q3

TRAP

Q1 > Q

LOT

a2 ~ a > A1

STRUT

√ ~ ç_

FOOT

U > U1

BATH

Q1(˘) > Q > e4I

CLOTH

a2(˘) ~ a > A1 > Å

NURSE

´’ ~ Œ’ ~ ç_® ~ √®

FLEECE

i > e˘/ei > ´I

FACE

ei > e˘/E˘ > e(j)´/E(j)´

PALM

Q(˘) ~ A1

THOUGHT

a2(˘) ~ a > A1 > Å

GOAT

oU > o(˘) > o(w)´ > PU

GOOSE

u > u_ > Pw´

PRICE

√I ~ ´I ~ åI ~ ç_I

CHOICE

çI > √I ~ åI ~ aI

MOUTH

a2U ~ åU ~ √U ~ EU ~ Eu_

NEAR

i® ~ i´® ~ I® > e®/E®

SQUARE

e® ~ E® > I®

START

Q2® > å1®

NORTH

ç® ~ o® > å® ~ a®

FORCE

o® ~ ç®

CURE

u® ~ o® ~ ç®

happY

i

lettER

´’ ~ Œ’ > ç_® ~ √®

horsES

I~ˆ~´

commA

´

play a variable tendency towards tensing of the KIT vowel, though this is most noticeable on the Irish-settled Avalon peninsula. In areas of the province settled by the SW English, [
] tensing appears to be phonologically conditioned among conservative ru-

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ral speakers, occurring particularly before an alveopalatal fricative (e.g. fish) and, less frequently, an alveolar nasal, e.g. in, wind. Even among younger urban speakers, [
] tensing frequently occurs in two morphemes: the -ing of words like walking or going, often pronounced [in]; and the possessive his, which often sounds identical to he’s, and which may represent a reanalysis by analogy with the possessive marker ‘s. In SW English-settled areas of the province, a more prevalent tendency among conservative speakers is the variable lowering of the KIT vowel to the range of []. This tendency is phonologically conditioned, occurring in other than a following oral stop environment (most frequently before /l/, as in children, as well as anterior fricatives, e.g. different, with, and occasionally before /n/, as in since). Because for such speakers the DRESS vowel is variably raised to the [
] range (see below), phonetic realizations of the KIT and DRESS sets may overlap to a considerable degree – though such tendencies as [
] tensing do not generally affect items of the standard English DRESS set. DRESS

For most speakers, the DRESS vowel is realized as standard lax low-mid []. On the Irish Avalon, conservative rural speakers display variable and conditioned raising of this vowel to [
] in the environment of a following stop or affricate, e.g. pension, get, connected. As noted above, the same phenomenon may be observed among conservative speakers in rural English-settled areas of the province, where raising to [
] occurs before a following non-velar stop or affricate, as in head, hedge, engine, bench. Before /l/ or a voiceless velar, however (e.g. yellow, wreck, breakfast), lowering to an [æ]-like articulation may occur in English-settled areas. In addition, [] before a voiced velar may be tensed and diphthongized in a stressed syllable, as in keg pronounced [khei] (e.g. Noseworthy 1971). A similar lowered and somewhat retracted pronunciation of [] for words in the DRESS set is beginning to make inroads, in a broad set of phonetic environments, in the speech of upwardly mobile younger urban Newfoundlanders. This reflects the influence of the innovative CanE tendency described as the “Canadian Shift” by Clarke, Elms and Youssef (1995), in which lax front vowels are lowered and retracted. TRAP/BATH

The TRAP/BATH sets are pronounced identically in NfldE, though their /æ/ vowel may be lengthened before a voiceless fricative, as in BATH. For most residents of Newfoundland and Labrador, /æ/ is more raised and fronted than in StCanE. In certain lexical items (e.g. catch) the vowel may be raised to []. In some English-settled areas of the province, /æ/ tends to be raised and tensed to an [e
]-like realization before velars, as in bag, and more frequently, before alveolars and alveopalatals, particularly /n/, as in DANCE. This latter trend appears on the increase among younger residents of these areas, among them the young female speaker on the audio sample. At the same time, a recent innovation - apparent among upwardly mobile younger

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urban females, particularly in St. John’s – is a lowering and retraction of the /æ/ vowel in the direction of [a], reflecting the influence of the Canadian Shift. LOT/CLOTH/THOUGHT

For most Newfoundlanders, the vowels of the LOT/CLOTH/THOUGHT sets have fully merged, and are realized as unrounded [a], [a$], or occasionally [a%], well forward of the cardinal 5 position which characterizes StCanE. For some (particularly older) speakers, the vowel of CLOTH/THOUGHT is distinguished from the LOT vowel via length; a very small minority retain a qualitative contrast, with a retracted unrounded [] or rounded [] for the CLOTH/THOUGHT sets. While some younger upwardly mobile speakers are tending to adopt more retracted CanE-like variants, the majority of the province’s residents maintain a more traditional central to front low unrounded vowel for all three subsets. STRUT

This vowel is typically realized as unrounded [√], as in most North American varieties. However, its point of articulation is often more back than central. For many residents of the Irish Avalon, the vowel is usually accompanied by lip-rounding, and is best represented as [ç_]. FOOT

The FOOT vowel is generally articulated as high back rounded lax [ ]. Occasionally, among conservative speakers on the Irish Avalon, the vowel is somewhat raised and tensed (cf. the similar tendency for the KIT vowel). As elsewhere in North America, more centralized variants also occur; but these are particularly evident among younger urban speakers, and in certain lexical items, e.g. good. 2.2.

Tense vowels

FLEECE

This vowel is typically realized in standard North American fashion, as tense and, when long, as slightly upglided. The conservative nature of traditional NfldE – whether of SW English or of Irish ancestry – is in evidence, however, in the form of a highly recessive FACE-like pronunciation in such -ea- words as sea, heave and beat. In standard varieties, such words (which in Middle English contained //) underwent merger with the FLEECE set several centuries ago; in conservative NfldE, however, they maintained their historical mid vowel. Likewise, in highly conservative speech of the Irish Avalon, the FACE vowel has occasionally been noted in at least some FLEECE words deriving from Middle English /e/, e.g. seeing, sleepy.

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In a handful of English-settled rural areas of the province, both -ee- and -eawords display variable centralization in conservative speech, so that tea may be articulated as [th
]. FACE

In StNfldE, the usual realization is standard North American upglided [ei] or [e
]. Vernacular NfldE varieties, however, display a range of variants, including a lowered onset ([
], [$
]). Older speakers – particularly on the Irish Avalon, but by no means only in this area – often exhibit the historically earlier non-upglided pronunciations, whether monophthongal [e, ] or, in closed syllables, inglided [e(j), (j)]. Such realizations occur both for words which in Middle and Early Modern English contained a long monophthong (e.g. made) as well as those that contained an upglided diphthong (e.g. maid); however, these two subsets continued to be distinguished by some conservative speakers in rural English-settled Newfoundland until fairly recently. PALM

In vernacular NfldE varieties, most native lexical items incorporating the PALM vowel belong to the TRAP/BATH set; that is, they are articulated with [æ()]. More educated speakers, however, tend to use the lower more retracted vowel of LOT/ CLOTH/THOUGHT. They may even – as in the case of the speakers on the audio samples – utilize a more retracted [%]-like sound in PALM words than they do in LOT etc. GOAT

The usual realization in StNfldE is the standard North American upglided [o ] variant. As in the case of the FACE set, conservative older (and primarily rural) speakers throughout Newfoundland and Labrador often use non-upglided pronunciations. These may be monophthongal [o(), o()], or inglided [o(w)] in checked syllables such as boat. For such speakers, non-upglided articulations appear to occur in the full range of GOAT words, that is, irrespective of whether their historical source was monophthongal (e.g. no) or upglided, e.g. know. A recent, though still minor, innovation is the adoption of “mainland-like” centralized [ ] or [! ] variants. This trend is being led by younger upwardly mobile urban speakers, particularly women. GOOSE

In St NfldE this vowel is typically realized as high back rounded. Three different types of speakers, however, tend to use centralized variants; in two of these cases, centralization is an inherited or at least long-standing feature. The first involves certain English-settled areas of the province, which have preserved the tendency towards centralization of /u/ that characterized parts of West Country England. In some of these areas, centralized rounded [u] appears to be on the increase (at least,

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apart from a pre-/l/ context), and is the usual variant today among younger females, including those on the audio samples. The second case is found on the Irish Avalon; here, though /u/ centralization occasionally occurs among older traditional speakers, it is by far most apparent before /l/. In Irish-settled communities, words like school may be pronounced with an ingliding diphthong the first element of which is centralized and lowered to the area of [!], so that school may sound like [sk!wl]. Finally, as for /o/, a minor tendency towards centralization of /u/ is evident in the speech of the chief urban centre of the province, St. John’s. That this represents a recent innovation in the direction of perceived North American trends is suggested by its almost exclusive association with upwardly mobile younger females. 2.3.

Diphthongs

PRICE, PRIZE

The diphthongs associated with these two lexical sets display a range of possible realizations in NfldE. Some speakers – among them urban residents of the Irish Avalon – tend to distinguish PRICE and PRIZE words via a non-low [] or [√] onset in PRICE, but a low [] or [a] onset in PRIZE. That is, such speakers display the pattern commonly referred to as Canadian Raising. More typical among traditional speakers from all areas of the province, however, is the use of a low-mid to mid onset ([, , √) in all environments, not simply before voiceless obstruents as in PRICE. This pattern is in all likelihood inherited from both SW English and SE Irish source dialects. For conservative speakers, particularly but by no means only on the Irish Avalon, the raised onset may also be retracted and rounded to an [ç_]-like sound. Though this is most evident in post-labial position (e.g. might, twice), it is by no means restricted to this environment. Before sonorants (e.g. time, fire, child), glide-weakened pronunciations are not uncommon (as also for the MOUTH/LOUD sets). CHOICE

Speakers of St NfldE distinguish the CHOICE set from the PRICE/PRIZE sets as do standard speakers elsewhere in North America, via the use of a rounded mid back [ç] or [o] onset in CHOICE words. More conservative (i.e. older, rural, workingclass) NfldE speakers, however, exhibit a marked tendency to unround the nucleus of CHOICE, and to pronounce it as [√, , ], and even fully lowered [] or [a]. This leads to considerable overlapping of variants which characterize both the PRICE and CHOICE sets. In at least the casual style of some conservative speakers, total merger may occur; others appear to keep the two sets distinct via a greater degree of retraction and rounding for the PRICE set. MOUTH, LOUD

Contrary to usage in the PRICE/PRIZE sets, the English of the capital, St. John’s, does not traditionally display Canadian Raising in words containing /a /. Rather,

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both the MOUTH and LOUD sets are usually articulated with similar low vowel nuclei, in the range of [a$] or [a]. Conservative and rural speakers throughout the province, however, often exhibit (inherited) low-mid to mid onsets ([, , , √]) in all positions. Such speakers also variably front the nucleus of /a / to a vowel approaching [] or, less frequently, [æ]. This fronting tendency – along with variable centralization of the glide, to an [u]-like articulation – appears to be on the increase off the Irish Avalon; for example, it is a salient feature of the speech of younger middle-class women from English-settled areas, among them those on the audio samples. This inherited tendency may be enhanced by the /a / fronting tendency that is today obvious in innovative mainland Canadian speech, and that is also making inroads into the speech of some younger St. John’s residents. 2.4. Vowels before /r/ NEAR, SQUARE

For many NfldE speakers, the vowels of these two sets are merged, with the merged vowel ranging from high or semi-high [i]/[
] on the Irish Avalon, to a high-mid to mid vowel approximating cardinal vowels 2 or 3 elsewhere in the province. More educated speakers, however (including those on the audio samples), distinguish the two sets in the standard manner, though often the distinction appears more learned than inherited. START

The low vowel in words like START – like the low vowels in non-pre-/r/ position (e.g. TRAP, LOT) – typically displays a considerably more fronted articulation in NfldE than that found in mainland Canadian varieties. For many speakers, representing the full social spectrum, the realization is [æ$]. Some urban, younger and more educated Newfoundland residents, however, utilize a lower or more retracted vowel, in the region of [a], [a$] or [%]. NORTH, FORCE

These two sets are merged for most speakers of NfldE, with usual pronunciations of [o] or [ç®]. Older working-class (especially rural) speakers, however, display a variable tendency towards lowering, fronting and unrounding of the pre-/r/ vowel in words such as morning, corner, and cork, resulting in such highly stigmatized pronunciations as [] or [a]. For such speakers, then, the range of articulation of the NORTH set may overlap with that of the START set in casual speech; the FORCE set, however, may remain distinct, in that it does not exhibit full lowering and unrounding (see, e.g., Colbourne 1982). CURE

Many speakers of NfldE display, in casual styles at least, a merger of CURE items with those belonging to the NORTH/FORCE set: all (e.g. tour, tore) are articulated

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with [o] or [ç®]. More educated speakers may make the distinction in the standard manner, but – as in the case of /ir/ and /er – the /ur/-/or/ opposition tends to be a learned rather than a naturally acquired phenomenon in NfldE. NURSE

Most speakers of NfldE realize stressed syllablic /r/ as in nurse or fur in the standard North American fashion, as [] or []. Among more traditional speakers in Irish-settled areas, this vowel has a distinct quality which may derive from a greater degree of retroflexion than the norm, along with variable rounding and retraction, resulting in [ç_®] or [√®]. MARRY, MERRY, MARY

While the MERRY/MARY sets are merged for virtually all Newfoundlanders, many preserve the MARRY ([æ]) vs. MERRY/MARY ([e] or []) distinction. Younger, particularly urban, Newfoundlanders, however, are losing this contrast, since many are innovating in the general North American direction of raising of [æ] in MARRY words, e.g. guarantee. Some conservative and older speakers display a retracted [] or [√®]-like realization in the MERRY set (e.g. berry, very, bury); retraction to a [/√]-like vowel may occur in the MARRY set, though much more rarely. However, centralization and retraction are increasingly recessive in NfldE. 2.5. Unstressed vowels happY

As elsewhere in Canada, speakers of NfldE use a tense high [i] rather than lax [
] in words containing a final unstressed high front vowel. Among conservative rural speakers in English-settled areas of the province, tense [i] was also a possible articulation of the word-final unstressed vowel in such lexical items as follow and potato. Today, however, this feature is highly recessive. Tense [i] is also found in traditional vernacular speech as an unstressed variant of the lexical items my and by, which in stressed position are realized in the standard fashion, as the diphthong [a
]. lettER

The unstressed syllabic /r/ of the lettER set has the same set of phonetic realizations as the stressed syllabic /r/ of the NURSE set. These include extra retroflexion, retraction and variable rounding in Irish-settled areas. horsES/commA

In NfldE, the unstressed vowel of horsES is generally higher and more fronted than the unstressed syllable-final vowel of commA: as elsewhere in North America, the former is articulated in the range of [
] or [&], while realizations of the latter are more []-like. As in many other varieties, this opposition distinguishes ‘im (= him)

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and ‘em (= them) in sequences like Give ‘im a book and Give ‘em a book. However, in many phonetic environments the two vowels may be pronounced identically, as in the unstressed syllables of pig it and bigot. 2.6.

Vowels: Lexical distribution

Several patterns of lexical distribution affecting the FOOT, STRUT and GOOSE sets differentiate NfldE, particularly its conservative and rural varieties, from StCanE, though these patterns are not unknown on the Canadian mainland. Firstly, the lexical incidence of the FOOT and STRUT classes in NfldE does not coincide with their lexical distribution in contemporary StE. A number of words nowadays articulated with [ ] belong in the STRUT set for conservative speakers of NfldE; these include put, took and look. Likewise, many speakers, primarily in English-settled areas of the province, display the use of the LOT rather than the STRUT vowel in un- sequences, e.g. understand, undo, untie. Finally, a small number of lexical items which are generally articulated with the high back tense vowel of GOOSE in contemporary standard varieties are often found with the high back lax vowel of FOOT in NfldE, particularly among older speakers. These tend to be restricted to environments involving a following nasal or a labiodental fricative, notably room, broom, groom, spoon, roof, hoof (yet not moon or proof). Laxing also occurs sporadically in other environments, e.g. before /l/ in foolish.

3.

Consonants

TH

Throughout Newfoundland and Labrador, both / / and / / regularly occur in casual speech as the alveolar stops [t] and [d], or the affricates [t ] and [d ]; in unstressed function words such as the, a stop realization for / / is not uncommon even among middle-class urban speakers. In rural communities of the Irish-settled Avalon, dental and postdental variants, both stop and fricative, occur variably among traditional speakers, who may thereby maintain the phonemic contrast with alveolar /t/ and /d/. In rural areas of the province settled by the SW English, / / and / / in non-word-initial position are occasionally articulated as [f] and [v] e.g. in bath, Matthew, breathe, father. A highly stigmatized [s] articulation for non-initial / / has also been noted in one such area; its voiced counterpart [z] does not occur, however. In two lexical items – a’r (= either, meaning any), na’r (= neither, meaning none) – medial / / is deleted by traditional speakers (as occasionally in other such items, e.g. whether). H

Vernacular varieties of NfldE of SW English origin are characterized by an /h/ patterning very different from the lexically-inherited pattern of standard English. In these varieties, /h/ is not a segmental phoneme but rather, displays a conditioned

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phonotactic distribution: [h] may be inserted before any syllable-initial vowel, the likelihood of insertion increasing when this vowel occurs in a stressed syllable, and when it is preceded by another vocalic segment. Thus each of the phonetic sequences [dæt'h] and [dæ#'] may represent either that hair or that air. H-insertion in the latter type of sequence is highly stigmatized, however; possibly as a consequence, some speakers in English-settled areas exhibit a simple tendency towards syllable-onset h-deletion in all environments. On the Irish Avalon, and in all standard varieties of NfldE, /h/ patterning is lexically determined, just as in standard English. The sole exception, in Irish-settled areas, is the pronunciation of the name of the letter h as haitch. R

Rhoticity is the norm in NfldE. That said, a largely English-settled area in Conception Bay – located on the Avalon peninsula west of the capital, St. Johns – displays variable postvocalic /r/ deletion in syllable codas, e.g. there, far, four. This feature is locally stigmatized, yet continues to characterize the speech of some younger residents of the area, notably working-class males. It also occurs, though much less frequently, in rural communities within the greater St. John’s metropolitan area. South of the capital, on the exclusively Irish-settled Avalon, traditional speakers in several rural communities likewise display a tendency towards r-deletion in syllable coda position. These are communities that in earlier times may have been characterized by a (highly marked) uvular pronunciation of r (cf. Hickey 2002: 296–297). Elsewhere on the island and in Labrador, a number of traditional speakers from a range of communities display a variable tendency to postvocalic r-deletion in unstressed syllables (not only in lettER-words, but also in such cases as unstressed there’s). For a small set of lexical items, an r-less pronunciation is common, as in the first syllable of partridgeberry (reanalysed by some as patchyberry). Conversely, some English-settled areas of the province display the now recessive feature of hyperrhoticity in the form of r-insertion in unstressed syllables following [] (as in tuna, fellow, tomorrow); r-insertion remains fairly common, however, in the stressed syllable of Chicago (and less so in wash). L

In most urban NfldE, as well as in areas of the province settled by the southwest English, postvocalic /l/ is articulated as a “dark” or velar contoid, as is the norm elsewhere in North America. In some areas of English-settled Newfoundland, this dark /l/ is variably vocalized, or deleted. Deletion seems most frequent after low vowels (e.g. fall) and in consonant clusters (e.g. myself); occasionally, in clusters, /l/ is deleted outside of syllable-coda position, e.g. in the word only. In other environments (e.g. coal, fell), vocalization to a mid to high back rounded [o], [ ], or unrounded [(] occurs variably. While deletion and vocalization appear primarily a rural phenomenon in Newfoundland, they are also observable among young-

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er residents of the capital, St. John’s. The traditional speech of St. John’s and the Irish Avalon, however, is characterized by a “clear” or palatal articulation of postvocalic /l/, as are conservative varieties spoken on the southwest coast of the island, an area characterized by French, Scots and Irish settlement. Today, in all these areas, palatal variants are most associated with older speakers. T

Posttonic intervocalic or pre-sonorant /t/ (as in Betty and water) is typically realized in NfldE as a flap, as in other North American varieties. In more careful styles, and particularly among older middle class speakers, it may be realized as a voiceless aspirated stop. On the Irish Avalon, the traditional variant (now associated more with older speakers, as well as female speech) is the alveolar slit fricative [t)]; occasionally the realization is [h], as in Saturday. The slit fricative occurs most frequently, however, in word-final pre-pausal position, e.g. hit, bet. As elsewhere in Canada, a glottal stop variant occurs before syllabic /n/ (e.g. cotton); in NfldE, however, a glottal realization is found variably before syllabic /l/, as in bottle (and much more rarely, syllabic /r/, as in gutter). Glottalization of /t/ may also occur in syllable onset position between sonorants (e.g. partridge, mortal, country), and in coda position in other than a pre-vocoid environment, e.g. bootless, football. WH

In NfldE, there is an absence of contrast in pairs such as which and witch, both being pronounced with [w]. Voiceless [*] is extremely rare; its occasional use appears to be in imitation of mainland North American models. JU, HU

After coronal stops (e.g. tune, new), the usual variant is glideless [u], though glided [ju] also occurs, particularly in formal styles. In NfldE, /t/ and /d/ before historical /ju/ are often affricated in vernacular speech: thus Tuesday is often heard as [tuzdi], due as [du] and stupid as [stup&d]. In hu- sequences (e.g. human), most Newfoundlanders likewise display glide reduction, i.e. absence of voiceless aspirated [hj]; even well-educated speakers may exhibit no contrast in such pairs as Hugh and you. S, SH, CH

In some parts of Newfoundland other than the Irish Avalon (especially the southwestern and western areas of the island), the alveolar fricative [s] is occasionally pronounced as alveopalatal [] in word-initial consonant clusters (as in stutter and slap). An unusual, and recessive, feature on parts of the southwest coast is the (variable) pronunciation of the voiceless alveopalatal fricative /t/ as the corresponding alveopalatal fricative [], in word-initial position only; this results in such realizations as shicken for chicken.

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Consonant sequences: Deletion and insertion

Vernacular NfldE exhibits extensive consonant cluster reduction. As in many other varieties, /t/ and /d/ deletion is frequent in syllable-coda position following a homorganic obstruent, nasal or liquid, e.g. just, breakfast, went, ground, wild. For some oldfashioned or “deep” vernacular speakers, this reduction applies not only in pre-consonant or pre-pause position, but also before vowels, suggesting absence of final stops in such clusters in underlying lexical entries, particularly when these are not subject to the effects of a following morpheme boundary. Single consonants in syllable-coda position are also subject to deletion in a number of (unstressed) words, notably with, of, give. (In a handful, however, /t/ may be added, as in cliff pronounced [kl
ft] and skiff, [sk
ft].) In syllable onsets following an obstruent, liquids may undergo deletion, particularly when the syllable is unstressed: thus from may be pronounced [fm], and /l/ may be absent in the first syllable of the place-name Placentia. Certain consonant sequences, on the contrary, tend to promote vowel epenthesis in conservative NfldE. These include non-homorganic syllable-coda clusters consisting of /l/ + non-coronal, as in elm pronounced ellum and kelk (a regional English word meaning ‘stone’) pronounced [khlk] (‘a stone anchor’). The syllable-final clusters -sp, -st, -sk may display epenthetic [] insertion before the noun plural marker in the speech of conservative rural Newfoundlanders, so that desk may be pronounced [dEsk´z] (with alternative realizations, through deletion/assimilation, of [dEs(˘)´z] and even unmarked [dEs˘]). More rarely, epenthesis is found after /r/, as in the conservative Irish Avalon disyllabic pronunciation of barm (‘yeast’). Consonant devoicing

In Irish-settled areas of Newfoundland, non-word-initial fricatives may be devoiced, as in live, choose, and pleasure. While the same tendency occurs in conservative speech throughout the province in some plural lexical items, including reflexives (e.g. ourselfs, theirselfs, wifes, lifes), these cases probably result from analogy with the singular rather than from an inherited phonological tendency, at least elsewhere than the Irish Avalon. Recessive devoicing is also found occasionally in fricative + oral stop sequences, as in roused pronounced with syllable-coda [st] and shoved with [ft]. Throughout the province, likewise, conservative speakers may exhibit variable post-sonorant /d/ devoicing (cf. Hickey 2002: 301) after /n/ and /l/, as in hold [(h)o˘lt] (got holt to ‘em) and killed [khIlt]. Sibilant assimilation

Traditional speakers in English-settled areas of the province display assimilation of /z/ to /d/ before syllabic /n/. Just as in the southwest of England, however, this assimilation is restricted to contracted negatives of the verb be, i.e. (it) isn’t > [(t)Idn`], (it) wasn’t >[(t)w√dn`]. A similar phenomenon occurs for the lexical items seven and eleven, which are variably pronounced with the sequence [bm].

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Recessive consonant features

Varieties of NfldE with ancestry in southwest England display several consonant features which are today highly recessive. These include syllable-initial fricative voicing (e.g. fan pronounced van, said pronounced zaid); syllable initial glide insertion, e.g. (h)ear pronounced like year, other pronounced yuther; and variable deletion of syllable-initial /w/ (e.g. wood pronounced [Ud]), yet its insertion before certain back vowels, e.g. coil pronounced [kwçIl]. Somewhat more frequent in such varieties is (inherited) metathesis in s+stop as well as CrV sequences, e.g. wasp pronounced waps, children pronounced chil(d)ern. In a few southern Labrador communities, syllable-initial /v/ (e.g. vegetable) is pronounced by older speakers as a bilabial [w].

4.

Prosodic features

Little research has been conducted into the prosodic aspects of NfldE. A popular observation, however, is that Newfoundlanders “talk fast”, and many traditional and vernacular speakers exhibit a tendency towards allegro speech. This results in a high rate of application of such phonological processes as segment deletion and assimilation. For example, there is considerable elision of unstressed vowels: items like electric, expect, according, away are regularly articulated without initial vowel. Likewise, the (unstressed) vowel of it is often deleted before auxiliary and copula verbs, resulting in such old-fashioned realizations as ‘twill for it will, ‘twas for it was, and ‘tis rather than it’s. Apheresis is also common in initial unstressed syllables; thus before is often pronounced as ‘fore, and instead, as ‘stead. In conservative NfldE, particularly in generations past, the vowel of the definite article the (in which th- was typically pronounced as a stop) was often elided before a vowel, resulting in such sequences as d’en’ for the end. In addition, there is a rhythmic tendency towards open syllables, as in the pronunciation of at all as a # tall, with aspirated [t]. Intonation patterns associated with conservative and vernacular NfldE have yet to be described in any detail (yet see Paddock 1981). Distinctive “Irish” vs. “English” patterns appear to exist, both of which differ from those encountered in much of mainland Canada. As to stress, traditional speakers in Irish-settled areas of the province display a now recessive tendency towards Irish-like non-initial syllable stress in words like inteRESTed, separATE, and appreciATE. One distinctive feature of NfldE – a feature shared with varieties spoken in Canada’s Maritime provinces, and to a much smaller degree parts of New England – is the use of the ingressively articulated discourse particles yeah, mm and no. Ingressives are more typical of women’s than men’s speech, and appear to be somewhat less frequent among younger generations. In contemporary NfldE, they are found among speakers of all social levels.

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Current issues

Though NfldE is relatively well described by comparison to CanE, much linguistic work remains to be done. Among the research needed is the investigation of vowel changes in contemporary varieties, and the degree to which these are influenced by ongoing change on the Canadian mainland. Further, the remarkably conservative nature of certain varieties of NfldE has much to offer from a sociohistorical perspective, in terms of insights into the structure of earlier vernacular regional varieties spoken in southwest Britain and southeastern Ireland – varieties that also played a major role in the early British colonization of America and the Caribbean. *

I would very much like to thank my colleagues Robert Hollett and Philip Hiscock for the invaluable assistance that our joint work on the transcription of vernacular Newfoundland English has provided me, along with the Memorial University Folklore and Language Archive for allowing us access to its tape collection. I also extend sincere thanks to Harold Paddock for his many insights into Newfoundland English over the years. Both this chapter and the chapter on Newfoundland morphology and syntax would not have been possible without the data collected by a number of graduate and advanced undergraduate students in Linguistics at Memorial University. While I am enormously grateful to them all, I would like to thank in particular Catherine Lanari for allowing me access to her taped corpus of spoken Burin-area English.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Clarke, Sandra 1991 Phonological variation and recent language change in St. John’s English. In: Cheshire (ed.), 108–122. fc. The legacy of British and Irish English in Newfoundland. In: Hickey (ed.). Clarke, Sandra, Ford Elms and Amani Youssef 1995 The third dialect of English: Some Canadian evidence. Language Variation and Change 7: 209–228. Colbourne, B. Wade 1982 A sociolinguistic study of Long Island, Notre Dame Bay, Newfoundland. M.A. thesis, Department of Linguistics, Memorial University of Newfoundland. Halpert, Herbert and J.D.A. Widdowson 1996 Folktales of Newfoundland, Volumes I and II. (Publications of the American Folklore Society.) St. John’s, Newfoundland: Breakwater. Hickey, Raymond 2002 The Atlantic edge: The relationship between Irish English and Newfoundland English. English World-Wide 23: 283–316.

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Lanari, Catherine E. Penney 1994 A sociolinguistic study of the Burin region of Newfoundland. M.A. thesis, Department of Linguistics, Memorial University of Newfoundland. Noseworthy, Ronald G. 1971 A dialect survey of Grand Bank, Newfoundland. M.A. thesis, Department of Linguistics, Memorial University of Newfoundland. Paddock, Harold 1981 A Dialect Survey of Carbonear, Newfoundland. (Publication of the American Dialect Society 68.) University, AL: University of Alabama Press. Seary, E.R., G.M. Story and W.J. Kirwin 1968 The Avalon Peninsula of Newfoundland: An Ethnolinguistic Study. (Bulletin No. 219.) Ottawa: National Museum. Story, G.M., W.J. Kirwin and J.D.A. Widdowson [1982] Dictionary of Newfoundland English. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. 1990 (Online version at www.heritage.nf.ca/dictionary)

African American Vernacular English: phonology Walter F. Edwards

1.

Introduction

The variety of English known as AAVE (African-American Vernacular English) is spoken throughout the United States and in some parts of Canada (including Nova Scotia) primarily by African Americans. The variety is spoken most consistently by working-class African Americans, particularly in urban areas. The vast majority of middle class African Americans are bi-dialectal in AAVE and Standard American English (StAmE) and use AAVE in appropriate social contexts through a mechanism scholars have characterized as style-shifting (see Baugh 1983: 58). AAVE co-exists with the colloquial StAmE typically spoken by middle class African Americans and middle class whites; and with white vernacular American English typically spoken by working class whites, with both StAmE and white vernacular American English enjoying significantly more social prestige than AAVE. For this reason AAVE exhibits linguistic influences from both StAmE and white vernacular American English. Thus, in addition to the broad AAVE vernacular, the so-called basilect, we find StAmE and white vernacular American English-influenced varieties called the mesolect and the acrolect with the latter construct being very close to StAmE (Stewart 1968) and the former an intermediate variety. This chapter will describe the phonological characteristics of the broad AAVE vernacular in the United States, excluding the varieties of the Caribbean and the Gullah variety spoken in the coastal Carolina area (both of which, some argue, should also be included under the umbrella of AAVE). Historically, AAVE has been thought to have derived from some combination of native African languages and historic dialects of English. Two competing theoretical positions on the provenance of AAVE currently hold sway in the literature. The African substratum position, sometimes called the creolist position (Rickford and Rickford 2000; Rickford 1999), proposes that AAVE is the descendant of the creole language synthesis smelted on southern plantations in ante-bellum America. From this perspective, when African slaves were brought to early America, directly or via the Caribbean, they arrived speaking a variety of African languages, probably including an English-based pidgin that was current on coastal West Africa during the slave-trading era. Slaves, it is assumed, had little or no exposure to the English of their owners; thus, they fashioned the original creole by combining the grammatical and phonological resources of their African languages with the English pidgin structures, which themselves were strongly influenced under-

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lyingly by African linguistic habits. It is this early AAVE that has evolved to the present AAVE. A second view, the English-origins position, held by Poplack (2000) and others, argues that when these languages came into contact, the slaves learned more or less the English varieties spoken by their white owners. Under this theory, the differences we now see between mainstream white AmE and AAVE are due to preserved features of preexisting nonstandard English variants. These theories have stimulated vigorous debate in recent years, regarding both the origins and the current structure of AAVE. However, the details of these arguments will not be discussed in depth here. What is generally agreed upon is that AAVE in the United States originated in the slave plantations of the antebellum South and shares a number of phonological and grammatical features with Southern dialects of American English. Whether the southern English absorbed these features from Early AAVE or vice versa is the subject of continuing research and debate. One notes, however, that southern vernacular English is most authentically spoken in areas where large plantations once flourished and which, subsequently, experienced some racial integration soon after the Civil War, when poor whites and ex-slaves became neighboring sharecroppers (Bailey 2001). In the early parts of the 20th century, a “Great Migration” of African Americans and whites toward northern cities created new African American communities in many urban centers and brought AAVE to these cities. The isolation of AAVE on the basis of racial segregation, which continues up to today in many urban environments, divided working class inner-city African Americans from StAmE and white vernacular American English speaking whites in the big northern cities. It is this isolation that led to the preservation of AAVE and partially explains its apparent homogeneity, which would not otherwise be expected given the geographic distances between AAVE enclaves in northern cities such as Chicago, Cleveland and Philadelphia. Scholars such as Huang (2000) have suggested that the post1960s desegregation is leading AAVE to become more similar to StAmE, while others (e.g., Labov 1994) see the two varieties becoming more distinct.

2.

Phonemic systems of AAVE

African-American Vernacular English differs from other English dialects in grammar and morphology (see Wolfram, other volume) as well as in phonology. To some extent, phonological characteristics are intertwined with morphological ones, so we shall characterize AAVE through a “bottom-up” description, beginning with a phonemic inventory and individual phonotactic features and ending with a brief discussion of how these phonological characteristics influence the surface morphology of AAVE. We will refer to phonological characteristics in terms of a typological comparison with StAmE. This in no way implies that AAVE is a less legitimate, logical, or systematic language variety. Therefore, terms such as “consonant cluster

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simplification” or “deletion” of certain phonemes should be thought of as relative to the American idealized language type, rather than the simplification or deletion of sounds that should exist. The sound system of AAVE in many cases does not require the same sounds in the same contexts that StAmE does. The basic phonemic span of AAVE is much the same as in other varieties in English. Table 1 charts the vowels of AAVE according to their place of articulation. Table 2 shows the consonants of AAVE listed according to their articulatory features. (Voiced consonants are in italic type.) Table 1. Vowels of AAVE

front i

close

central &


back u

o
close mid

e

a



open mid



o ç 

a
æ open Table 2.

a Consonants of AAVE

stops fricatives affricates nasals liquids semivowels 3.



labial/labiodental

dental/alveolar

pb fv

td sz t d n l

m w

palatal

velar/glottal k h 

r j

Phonetic realizations

Many of the vowel and consonant phonemes in tables 1 and 2 have AAVE allophones that are different from StAmE and are either unique to AAVE or are shared by other non-standard American dialects. The Northern Cities Chain Shift is a phenomenon affecting the speech of white speakers in the northern United States. Its essential features are the tensing and raising of [æ] to [], the backing of [] to [], the lowering of [ç] to [a], and the fronting of [a] to [æ]. According to Labov (1994), AAVE speakers are not participating in this shift. The vowel system of AAVE differs from other American English varieties in several ways, although it does share some of its features with Southern white va-

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rieties. In table 3 we display and comment on some of the more frequently noted AAVE variations from StAmE. Table 3.

Phonetic realization of selected AAVE vowels

AAVE vowel AAVE pattern /
/, //

Merged before nasals

AAVE example

Comment

[p
n] ‘pen’, ‘pin’

Widespread in the South.

[ki
dz], [si
ns], [di
d]

The tensing and raising of this lower high, lax vowel is consistent with the Southern Shift (Labov 1994). Interestingly, however, [
] is lowered to [æ], contra the Southern Shift, in specific words including thing [ æ].

[wi
n], [hi
d]

The tensing and raising of this lower high, lax vowel is consistent with the Southern Shift (Labov 1994).

/
/

Raised and diphthongized to [i
] in some words, including kids, since, did

//

Raised and diphthongized to [i
] in some words including when, head

/æ/

Raising and fronting of this sound towards [], especially before words [En], [b] with following nasals such as Ann and bang

According to Labov (1994), this is not associated with the Northern Cities Chain Shift. Edwards and Diergard (2001) measured F1 and F2 acoustic values for the vowel in Ann as high and front as 458.5 and 2991.5 respectively for some AAVE speakers.

[e]

Laxing and lowering of this vowel to [] when it is followed by a [sm],[s
n] nasal consonant or a heterosyllabic vowel, as in same or saying

This habit does not seem general enough to be an expression of the Southern Shift.

[a
]

The glide reduction and monophthongization of this diphthong occurs especially before nasals, pauses and voiced obstruents. Words affected include mine, hi, slide.

This habit is extending to words in which [a
] is followed a voiceless obstruent. Thus [wa:t] white.

[ma:n], [ha], [sla:d]

Table 4 summarizes the realization of the AAVE vowels, based on Wells’ system of lexical sets.

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Table 4. Vowel pronunciations in AAVE based on Well’s lexical set StAmE equivalents taken from www.ic.arizona.edu/~anth383.lexicalsets.html

AAVE

AAVE

StAmE

PALM

/pæm/

/æ/

//

TRAP

/tæp/+/tæ/

/æ/

/æ/

BATH

/bæ /+/bæt/

/æ/

/æ/

MOUTH

/mæ /+/mæt/

/æ/

/a /

SQUARE

/skwæ/+/skæ/

/æ/

/r/, /ær/

LOT

/lt/, /l/

//

//

CLOTH

/kl /+,/klt/

//

/ç/

START

/stt/

//

/ar/

PRICE

/prs/

//

/a
/

NEAR

/ni-/, /n
r/

/-/, /r/

/
r/

NURSE

/n-s/, /nrs/

/-/, /r/

/0/

KIT

/kit/ , /ki
t/

/i/,+/i
/

/
/

DRESS

/dr
s/

/
/

//

FLEECE

/fl

s/

/

/

/i/

FACE

/fe
s/, /feis/

/e
/

/e
/

STRUT

/stt/, /st/

//

//

FOOT

/f t/, /f /

/ /

/ /

CURE

/k /

/ /

/ r/

NORTH

/nç´T/, /nç´f/

/ç´/

/ç˘/

FORCE

/fç´s/

/ç´/

/or/

THOUGHT

/ çUt/, / çU//

/çU/

/ç/

GOAT

/ot/, /o/

/o/

/o/

GOOSE

/us/

/u/

/u/

CHOICE

/to
s/

/o
/

/çI/

The entries on Table 5 give examples of some distinctive AAVE consonantal allophones.

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Table 5.

Phonetic realization of consonants of AAVE

AAVE consonants Example and clusters

/t/,/d/in syllable codas

not, bad

/z/, /v/

isn’t, business, seven, eleven

/ /,/ /

thing, those

/r/

floor, bird

/l/

help

Do AAVE and Southern Variant pronunciation white vernacular dialect share feature? Sounds sometimes realized as glottal stops; /d/ is frequently deNo voiced to /t/ or deleted in this environment Sounds are fronted and Yes stopped before nasals Word initially and word finally, these fricatives are frequently realized as stops, i.e. [t] and [d] respectively. Word-internally and word finally, the voiceless interdental fricative is sometimes realized as [f] and the voiced segment realized as [v] Frequently vocalized or deleted in post-vocalic, pre-consonantal and word final environments. The deletion or vocalization most often takes place after non-central vowels in unstressed positions; and least often after central vowels in stressed positions. The sound is often deleted between vowels also. Frequently vocalized or deleted in post-vocalic, pre-consonantal and word final positions. When the sound is not realized as [l] it is more frequently vocalized than deleted. The sound is most frequently deleted before the mid front vowels [e] and [e].Vocalization of [l] as [w] most frequently occurs after back vowels. Deletion seldom occurs before high front vowels.

AAVE realizations not [nç/] bad [bæt] [bæ] bid [b
t], [b
] good [ t], [ ] isn’t [
dnt] business [b
dn
s] seven [sebn]

Yes. Most frequent in AAVE

thing [t
] those [doz] with [w
t] tenth [tnt] bath [bæf] faith [fe1f] mother [mv], [mvr]

Yes. Most frequent in AAVE

floor [flo], [flo] bird [b-d], [brd] record [rekd], [rk-d], [rkrd] Carol [kl]

Yes. Most frequent in AAVE

help [hp] bell [bw] roll [ro] school [skuw] feel [fil], [fiw] football [f bçw]

African American Vernacular English: phonology

Table 5. (continued)

Phonetic realization of consonants of AAVE

AAVE consonants Example and clusters /j/

yet

/n/

man

/t/, /d/ and other cold, left consonants in word final clusters

Do AAVE and Southern Variant pronunciation white vernacular dialect share feature? Following [u] this sound is sometimes deleted This sound and other nasals may be deleted when syllable final, with the nasality transferred to the preceding vowel. This process of deleting single consonants in syllable coda positions also affects other sounds in specific lexical items. The second consonant in a cluster is frequently deleted when the two consonants share the same voicing feature. The deletion most frequently takes place when the cluster ends a monomorphemic word. The deletion occurs most frequently when the monomorphemic word is followed by a word that begins with an obstruent consonant, and occurs least often when a cluster ends a bimorphemic word and is followed by a word that begins with a vowel.

AAVE realizations

No

computer [kmput
] beautiful [but
fl]

No

man [mæ2n] bang [bæ2]

Yes. Most frequent in AAVE

and [æn] left [lf] desk [ds]

/s/+ stop

ask, grasp

In specific words the cluster metathesizes.

Yes

ask [æks] grasp [ræps]

/k/, /t/ in str clusters

street

In some words the [t] is backed to [k].

No

street [skrit]

4.

389

Stress, pitch, intonation and phonotactic patterns

In informal speech, AAVE speakers often move the stress to the first syllable of a word which in StAmE carries stress on some other syllable. This usually occurs in, but is not restricted to, bisyllabic words, the first syllable of which is open, as in police ['po3lis], Detroit ['di3tro
t], and Tennessee ['t 3n 3si]. In very informal speech, AAVE speakers use fore- stressing frequently. Thus, words like define,

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produce, revise and detain are often fore- stressed in the vernacular (Baugh 1983: 63). Intonational stress in sentences often carries meaning. For example, if [b
n] is not stressed, it does not signify remote past as it does in sentences where it is stressed. Studies to determine if the unique intonation contours occurring in AAVE are associated with specific sentence types have found that yes-no questions sometimes omit the final rise, often using a level or falling contour at the end of the question (Green 2002; Tarone 1972, 1973). According to Tarone (1972, 1973), AAVE speakers frequently employ a wide pitch range, often using the falsetto register to signal various modalities, including anger, humor, or skepticism. However, this area is poorly studied, and has not been formally linked to pitch and tone patterns of West African languages (Green 2002). Word-final clusters such as sk and nd are frequently produced as s and n. Thus, mask may be pronounced [mæs] and land may be pronounced [læn]. Two competing theories for the origin of this phenomenon exist. The first approach claims this occurs because of a robust deletion rule of consonant clusters. The Africanist approach claims the “missing” consonant to be nonexistent because West African languages do not have word-final clusters, and in certain environments (such as before a word-initial vowel) the final consonant is added to the following lexical item. Again, the details of these theories will not be debated here. It should be noted that this phenomenon occurs for many different clusters, including ld, sp, kd, ft, and so on (Green 2002).

5.

Phonology and grammar

Some of the phonological processes described above have consequences for the grammar of AAVE. The tendency of AAVE speakers to drop the final [t] or [d] in tautosyllabic two-member clusters with the same voicing specification leads to the loss on the surface of grammatical information. Thus the surface realization of [wk] “walk” for underlying [wkt] leaves the past morpheme unexpressed segmentally. However, that information is retrieved from the context by any addressee familiar with the AAVE dialect. Similarly, the word tries might be uttered as [tra
] or [tra:] for [tra
z] by an AAVE speaker who naturally drops the final [z], even though that [z] carries the grammatical information that the subject of the sentence is singular. This grammatical fact is signaled elsewhere in the sentence or discourse and is automatically retrieved by an interlocutor who is familiar with AAVE. Thus, sentences such as “I see how he try to get a job” or “He try to get a trade” (third person), “Plus these kids, these orphanage kid ...” (plural), and “Every day ... I see my cousin, or go to my uncle or somebody house” (possessive), would be considered anomalous to a non-AAVE speaking listener although they are perfectly grammatical within AAVE.

African American Vernacular English: phonology

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391

Discussion

As we see in tables 1-5, AAVE shares a basic sound system with most varieties of English. However, the rules for the combining of these sounds differ in notable ways. In fact, phonological markers of AAVE are noticeable features to the ears of those who speak other English varieties. Historically, vowel systems of English have been known to systematically shift, with a whole chain of vowels moving uniformly in one direction or other in vowel space. Recent research by William Labov and his associates has shown that there are two major ongoing chain shifts affecting the vowels in American speech: the Southern Shift and the Northern Cities Chain Shift (Labov 1994). However this same research has proposed that African Americans are not participating in these chain shifts. This proposal is supported by several studies. For example, recent research conducted in Detroit by the author of this entry revealed that most AAVE speakers in the sample had vowel pronunciations quite different from what would be expected if they were participating in the Northern Cities Chain Shift. For instance, he observed [di
d] for [d
d], [
t] for [t], [ki
dz] for [k
ds], [wi
n] for [w
n] and [n
ks] for [nks]. These patterns indicate that the lax front vowels of the AAVE speakers in the sample were raised and tense, contrary to NCCS patterns that involve the lowering of [
] and []. Another interesting characteristic of the AAVE phonology is the nasalization of vowels in words such as [ma n] (for man). Nasal vowels in these environments are reminiscent of the fact that vowel nasality is phonemic in a number of African languages.

7.

Conclusion

The sound system of AAVE is similar to other English varieties in the United States. However, many of the phonemes of AAVE obey different phonetic rules than other American English systems. These differences are systematic and are part of the linguistic continuum that exists for each individual AAVE speaker, making many of these rules “optional” depending on sociolinguistic context. This entry summarized the basic phonological system of the variety and some of the better known phonetic principles that distinguish the AAVE variety from other dialects. Much work remains to be done on AAVE phonology, including work on prosody and intonation.

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Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Bailey, Guy 2001 The relationship between African American and white vernaculars in the American South: A sociocultural history and some phonological evidence. In: Lanehart (ed.), 53–92. Edwards, Walter and Nicola Diergardt 2001 Detroit AAVE and the Northern Cities Chain Shift. Paper delivered at NWAVE conference at Michigan State University, 2001. Green, Lisa 2002 African American English: A Linguistic Introduction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Huang, Xiaozhao 2000 A Study of African-American Vernacular English in America’s “Middletown”: Evidence of linguistic convergence. Lewiston, New York: Edwin Mellen Press. Rickford, John and Russell Rickford 2000 Spoken Soul: The Story of Black English. New York: Wiley. Stewart, William 1968 Continuity and change in American negro dialects. The Florida FL Reporter 6; reprinted in: Walt Wolfram and N. Clarke (eds.), Black-White Speech Relationships, 51–73. Washington: Center for Applied Linguistics. Tarone, Elaine 1972 Aspects of intonation in vernacular white and black English speech. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Washington. 1973 Aspects of intonation in Black English. American Speech 48: 29–36.

Gullah: phonology* Tracey L. Weldon

1.

Introduction

Also known as Geechee or Sea Island Creole, Gullah is spoken primarily along the coasts of South Carolina and Georgia. Early descriptions of Gullah were linguistically unfounded accounts that attributed the distinctive features of the variety to laziness or physical limitations on the part of its speakers. However, dialectologists later debunked these myths by showing the systematic nature of the variety and arguing that Gullah was an English dialect whose distinctive features were retentions from earlier varieties of British English. Johnson (1930: 17), for example, noted that “[a]s the analysis proceeds it will become more and more apparent that practically every detail of the Gullah grammar and phonology is directly descended from the midland and southern English dialects”. This theory was later challenged by Lorenzo Dow Turner’s (1949) description of Africanisms in Gullah, which inspired some scholars to argue that the Gullah system, rather than descending from English dialects, was primarily an African variety (see, e.g., Van Sertima 1976). A more widely accepted view, however, is that Gullah emerged through a process of language contact between African and English varieties spoken during the Atlantic slave-trading era. During this time, African slaves, speaking a variety of mutually non-intelligible languages, would have found an urgent need to communicate with one another and those that enslaved them. In response to this need, they are believed to have formed contact varieties which drew upon the English vocabulary of the British slave traders and plantation owners, while retaining phonological and grammatical features from their own West African languages. There has been some debate over whether the process of creolization that eventually led to Gullah took place on the American plantations themselves, or whether the slaves arrived on these plantations already speaking a creole. Some have argued that Gullah, like other Atlantic creoles, may be traced back to a West African Pidgin English (WAfPE), which was transported by slaves to the North American plantations, where it was passed on to succeeding generations of slaves, eventually creolizing into Gullah (see, e.g., Stewart 1968). Another theory is that a putative Barbadian Creole spoken during the 17th century was the source of Gullah as well as Jamaican Creole and Sranan (e.g., Cassidy 1980). This theory was based on the observation that South Carolina, like Jamaica and Surinam, was initially colonized by Barbadian settlers. Yet another theory traces the period of creoliza-

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tion back to 16th-century Africa, where a Guinea Coast Creole English (GCCE), presumed to have been spoken along the Upper Guinea Coast of West Africa, is believed to have been the source of Gullah, as well as all of the Caribbean English Creoles (see, e.g., Hancock 1980). An examination of the sociodemographic information available led Mufwene (1993) to argue that Gullah emerged in the Carolina colony between 1720 and 1750, i.e. 50 to 80 years after its initial settlement in 1670. This period in the Carolina region was marked by the growth of the rice plantation industry, institutionalized segregation, and an African majority – conditions that would have been conducive to the formation of a creole. Given this time frame, it is believed that three linguistic components – creole, English, and African – would have been most prominent in Gullah’s development (see Hancock 1980). The extent to which already existing creoles influenced Gullah’s development remains controversial. However, it may be assumed that some creole influence was present in its formation, introduced either by slaves brought over from the Caribbean or directly from Africa. The English that influenced Gullah’s development was most likely spoken by Europeans as well as Africans who were present in the Charles Town colony during the early years of settlement (i.e., between 1670 and 1720) (see Mufwene 1993). And given the fact that the Charles Town colony was settled by Barbadian planters, who came primarily from the southwestern region of England, the most influential English dialects appear to have been those deriving from Southwest England (see, e.g., Niles 1980). Theories regarding the African element in Gullah are somewhat more controversial. Several theories have derived from analyses of the data presented in Turner (1949). Some scholars have pointed to a significant amount of influence from the Kwa language family, spoken along parts of Southern Nigeria and the African Gold Coast (e.g., Cassidy 1980; Alleyne 1980). Others have pointed to the linguistic prominence of Kru and Mande languages, spoken along the coast of Senegambia, Sierra Leone, and Liberia (e.g., Hair 1965; Hancock 1980). According to Creel (1988: 29-30), most of the Africans brought into the South Carolina region came from trading stations in four areas of the Guinea Coast – CongoAngola, Gambia, the Windward Coast (Sierra Leone and Liberia), and the Gold Coast (Republic of Ghana). It is likely, therefore, that at least four primary African language families contributed to Gullah’s development, namely Bantu from the Congo-Angola region, Kru and Mande from Gambia and the Windward Coast, and Kwa from the Gold Coast. Perhaps the most extensive research done to date on the phonology of Gullah is that presented in Turner ([1945] 1971), ([1949] 2002). The discussion below will, therefore, depend heavily on Turner’s analyses, supplemented by the data that were elicited for the current project.

Gullah: phonology

2.

Sound system

2.1.

Vowels

395

Table 1 summarizes some of the phonetic realizations of Gullah vowels. In each case, the first symbol or set of symbols represents the pronunciations provided by the speaker recorded for this project—an elderly African-American female basket maker from Mount Pleasant, South Carolina (see accompanying CD). Additional symbols summarize observations made by Turner (1971, 2002) with regard to these sounds. Since some changes are likely to have taken place in the Gullah sound system since Turner’s fieldwork was conducted, any apparent differences in Turner’s observations and those made with regard to the current data set are noted in the text. It should also be noted that none of these sounds have been acoustically measured. Table 1.

Gullah vowels

KIT

I¢ ~ I

GOOSE

u

DRESS

E4 ~ E

PRICE

åI ~ åI

TRAP

Q44 ~ a

CHOICE

çI ~ åI ~ åI

LOT

A~Å

MOUTH

çU ~ åU

STRUT

√

NEAR

I ~ I´

FOOT

U

SQUARE

E´

BATH

Q44 ~ a

START

a

CLOTH

o

NORTH

ç4

NURSE

FORCE

FLEECE

A~√ i

CURE

o jo

FACE

e

happY

i~Æ

PALM

Q44 ~ a

lettER

Œ ~ ´#

THOUGHT

ç~Å

horsES

I

GOAT

o

commA

´ ~ ´#

GOAL

o ~ oE

KIT

The speaker recorded for this project produces a fairly lowered variety of [I] which approaches the positioning of [E]. According to Turner, a more retracted, central

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vowel, which he describes by the symbol [I], is also occasionally heard when there is an adjacent k, g, l, or r (1971: 125). DRESS

As with [I], the current speaker’s [E] is also quite lowered, approaching the positioning of [Q]. Turner (1971) describes a more cardinal pronunciation, but observes that a more open variety occasionally occurs before nasals (especially in Charleston, SC) and in all positions for one speaker from Harris Neck, Georgia (125). TRAP

For the current speaker, [Q] is lowered to a position approaching [a]. According to Turner, [a] is practically cardinal in Gullah and is used instead of [Q] or [A], which Turner describes as the General American (GA) pronunciation, henceforth referred to by the label Standard American English (StAmE). Given the current speaker’s pronunciation, however, it appears that [Q] has since been added to the Gullah phonology, but in a more lowered position than that typically found in StAmE phonologies. LOT

While the current speaker’s vowel appears to be a low, back, unrounded [A], Turner reports a more rounded [Å] for words such as pot, body, dog, and wash. He does, however, observe that there are varying degrees of lip-rounding for this sound (1971: 125–126; 2002: 18). STRUT

Consistent with Turner’s observations, the vowel in STRUT for the current speaker appears to be [√]. Turner describes the tongue position for this vowel in Gullah as being “slightly lower than for Cardinal [ç] and somewhat more advanced” (1971: 126). FOOT

Also consistent with Turner’s observations, the current speaker’s vowel in FOOT is [U]. Turner describes the tongue position for this vowel in Gullah as “slightly higher than half-closed and … considerably advanced from the position required for [u]” (1971: 126). BATH

As noted above for TRAP, the vowel in BATH for the current speaker appears to be a lowered [Q]. The vowel [a] is included in the table as well, however, in recognition of Turner’s observations (see TRAP discussion above).

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397

CLOTH

The speaker recorded for this project produces a very rounded [o] for this word. It is not entirely clear whether this represents a common pronunciation of this word in Gullah, or whether the speaker is mistaking this word for clothe or even clothes. As will be discussed in the section on consonants, the final fricative in this word is produced as [s] rather than [T]. This might be an indication that this word was mistaken for clothes or it might represent a phonological process in Gullah by which voiceless interdental fricatives are replaced by voiceless alveolar fricatives. The latter theory is supported by the fact that the same replacements are made in BATH and, variably, in NORTH. Turner describes [o] in Gullah as “slightly above cardinal” and “never diphthongized”. He also observes fully rounded lips for this sound in Gullah (1971: 126). NURSE

The vowel produced by the current speaker for NURSE is the low back unrounded vowel [A]. Turner reports use of [√] in similar words such as bird and earth (2002: 20). Therefore, [√] might represent an alternative pronunciation here. FLEECE

As in StAmE, the vowel produced by the current speaker for this sound is [i]. Turner describes this sound in Gullah as “practically cardinal” (2002: 15). FACE

The vowel in this word appears to be the pure vowel [e]. Turner describes this sound in Gullah as “slightly above cardinal” and “never diphthongized” (2002: 16; 1971: 125). PALM

The speaker produces a lowered [Q] for this word. Turner, however, reports use of [a], noting that several of his speakers used a variety of [a] that was slightly above cardinal before and after plosives (1971: 125). THOUGHT

For this word, the speaker produced the [ç] vowel. Turner describes words such as brought and daughter as having the lower vowel [Å], noting that “[ç] is seldom heard in Gullah” (2002: 18). However, the sound produced by the current speaker seems higher than [Å], suggesting that [ç] has perhaps since been added to the Gullah phonology.

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GOAT

For this word, the vowel produced by the current speaker is the pure vowel [o]. See the discussion under CLOTH for Turner’s observations regarding this sound in Gullah. GOAL

Here the speaker appears to vary between the monophthong [o] and the diphthong [oE]. Turner observed very few diphthongs in Gullah at the time that he conducted his research. However, modern-day Gullah appears to exhibit quite a few diphthongs, as some of the examples to follow will show. GOOSE

Consistent with Turner’s observations, the vowel produced by the current speaker for this word is [u]. Turner describes this vowel as “practically cardinal”, but notes that “an advanced variety occurs after alveolar consonants” (1971: 125–126). PRICE

Another diphthong observed in Gullah is [åI], which is produced by the current speaker in the word PRICE. According to Turner, the nucleus of this diphthong is normally [Å]. However, he observes that it is advanced and raised to [å] when it is followed by a voiceless consonant (as in PRICE) and often when it is preceded by what Turner calls a “fricative r” (2002: 21). Turner uses the term “fricative r” to refer to a “voiced post-alveolar fricative consonant” (2002: 28). It is not clear, however, that this is the sound preceding the diphthong in PRICE. With regard to the second member of this diphthong, Turner alternates between the symbols [I] and the more retracted, central vowel [Æ] (1971: 125–126; 2002: 21). CHOICE For CHOICE, the current speaker uses the diphthong [çI]. However, Turner ob-

serves use of the diphthongs [åI] and [åÆ] as options for similar words (1971: 125–126; 2002: 21). Turner cites words such as boil, join, and boy, which he describes as having the surface diphthong [aI], with the nucleus advancing from an underlying [Å]. It appears, however, that this group of words undergoes a nucleus shift to [å] in pre-voiceless environments, comparable to that observed in words such as die, mine, and side. MOUTH

For the current speaker, the diphthong in MOUTH appears to be [çU]. Turner, however, cites the diphthong as [ÅU], again with the nucleus advanced and raised to [å] in pre-voiceless environments (1971: 125–126; 2002: 21). One might also note in the reading passage on the accompanying CD, that the speaker monophthongizes

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the vowel in around, transcribed as [´®çn]. So it appears that the production of this diphthong is variable. NEAR

The speaker produces both the monophthong [I] and the diphthong [I´] for NEAR. SQUARE

The diphthong [E´] is used by the current speaker for SQUARE. START

The speaker produces the low, front vowel [a] (with no apparent r-coloring) for START. NORTH

For NORTH, the vowel [ç] is used by the current speaker, with r-coloring. FORCE For FORCE, the vowel [o] is used by the current speaker with no apparent r-color-

ing. CURE For CURE, the speaker produces [jo].

happY

The word happY ends in [i] for the current speaker. However, Turner observes “a shorter variety of the central vowel [Æ]” occurring in the final open syllable of certain words in Gullah (1971: 125). lettER

For the current speaker, the word lettER appears to end in the vowel [Œ], with no r-coloring. Turner claims, however, that [Œ] never occurs in his data. Instead, he observes two varieties of [´] – “a short one with a tongue position somewhat higher than half-open” and “a fairly long one with a more retracted tongue position and approximately half-open but more advanced and higher than that required for [√]” (1971: 126). According to Turner, the latter variety, [´#], occurs in final syllables, in words such as daughter and Martha. Turner’s analysis is somewhat confusing here, however, since he claims that the longer variety [´#] is “used in the newer type of speech to replace [√] by persons who try to distinguish stress” while the shorter variety [´(] “is always used in unstressed positions” (1971: 126). Presumably, the second syllable in words such as Martha and daughter is unstressed, but gets transcribed by Turner as [´#] rather than [´(] because of the word-final positioning of the vowel.

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horsES

For the current speaker, the second vowel in horsES appears to be [I]. commA

The second vowel in commA appears to be somewhat less open than that produced in lettER for the current speaker. It is, therefore, transcribed here as [´]. See the discussion for lettER above, however, for Turner’s observations regarding [´] in Gullah. In addition to the observations made above, one might note a few additional distinctive vowel patterns observed by Turner (1971: 124–125). Keep in mind, however, that these observations may not apply to all, or even any, current Gullah pronunciations, since several decades have passed since Turner conducted his fieldwork. According to Turner, the vowel [i] is found in words such as hair, James, raisin (first syllable), give, and itch. The vowel [I] is found in weave, deaf, and such. The vowel [e] is found in words such as air, clear, and egg. The vowel [o] is reported for the word oven (first syllable) and [U] for the words coop, hoop, and room. Turner also observes the vowel [E] in words such as make and shut. Finally, there is a process of pre-stress syllable deletion that affects words such as about, which might be pronounced as ‘bout, and away, which might be pronounced as ‘way (see Klein and Harris 2000). 2.2.

Consonants

A number of phonological processes affecting consonants may also be noted for Gullah. STOPS

In contrast to StAmE pronunciations, it has been observed that the voiceless stops [p], [t], and [k] in Gullah are generally unaspirated at the beginning of stressed syllables (Turner 1971, 2002; Mack 1984). According to Turner, these sounds are also occasionally produced as ejectives in this position. Turner notes that [p] is sometimes followed by slight aspiration “[b]efore long vowels in very emphatic speech” (1971: 127). He emphasizes, however, that variation among the aspirated, nonaspirated, and ejective variants of these three sounds is not phonemically distinctive in Gullah. According to Turner (1971, 2002) the palatal stop [c] is used in Gullah where StAmE has [tS] in words such as chew and March. He notes that this stop is occasionally aspirated in emphatic speech. He also observes use of the palatal stop [Ô] in words such as Jack and pleasure, where StAmE has [dZ] and [Z], respectively. And he notes that [Ô] is occasionally found where the sounds [z] or [S] would be heard in StAmE.

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Similar to speakers of many other varieties of English, Gullah speakers exhibit use of consonant cluster reduction, by which the word-final stop in a consonant cluster gets deleted. As an alternative strategy, consonant clusters are also occasionally separated by vowels in Gullah (Turner 1971: 130). Finally, there are some additional alternations made by the current speaker for the stops [p] and [k] (see accompanying CD). In the reading list, the speaker pronounces the word palm as [sQ4m] and only after being questioned provides the alternative pronunciation of [pQ4m]. And in the reading passage, the speaker produces the word cloak variably as [klot] and [klok]. These pronunciations may represent some idiosyncratic tendencies on the part of this particular speaker or more productive processes in Gullah. Nasals Based on the narratives in the final chapter of Turner (1949), Klein and Harris (2000) discuss a process of nasal velarization in Gullah by which alveolar nasals [n] become velar [N] following the diphthong [ÅU]. When this process occurs word-finally, as in down or around, Klein and Harris (2000: 4) call it assimilation “in the sense that the etymological alveolar nasal assimilates in velarity to the adjacent labio-velar off-glide of the diphthong”. They observe, however, that a process of “dissimilatory blocking” of the velarization process takes place when another velar is found in the word. Thus, words such as gown or ground do not undergo the nasal velarization process. According to Klein and Harris, both processes are categorical in Turner’s narrative data, although some variation is found elsewhere in Turner’s text. Klein and Harris also note variable nasal velarization word-medially in words such as pounding. This process, however, appears to vary regionally. Klein and Harris give no indication of whether this process occurs in modern-day Gullah. One other process involving nasals appears in the reading passage on the accompanying CD. Here one finds the absence of the nasal in the second syllable of the word attempt, which is pronounced [tEp] by the current speaker. Again, given the limited data, it is not clear, at this stage, whether or not this represents a productive process in Gullah or something unique to the given speaker or given word. Fricatives Several processes have been noted with regard to fricatives in Gullah. According to Turner, the voiceless bilabial fricative [∏] is found in words such as fall and staff, where StAmE has [f]. And the voiced bilabial fricative appears in words such as river, very, we, and while where StAmE has either [v] or [w] (1971: 129; 2002: 241). Turner observes a process by which the alveolar fricative [s] is used instead of StAmE [S] in words such as shrimp and shrink (1971: 129; 2002: 245– 246). And he also observes word-initial intrusive [h] in words such as umbrella, artichoke, and empty (1971: 129).

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Based on the current speaker’s pronunciations, it appears that there is also a process by which word-initial [h] is deleted. Note in the reading list that the speaker pronounces happy as [api]. This speaker also variably pronounces he as [hi] and [i] in the reading passage. This latter pronunciation may be phonetically motivated (either by the same process affecting happy or by some more general fast-speech phenomenon) or morphologically motivated, given the fact that Gullah speakers often employ a gender-neutral pronoun [i] in place of he, she, or it (see, e.g., Nichols 1976). Finally, it is observed by Turner that the interdental fricatives [D] and [T] are replaced by [d] and [t], respectively, in Gullah, in words such as this, brother, month, and think (1971: 128; 2002: 245). This process of fricative stopping is clearly still in effect in modern-day Gullah, as exhibited by the current speaker’s pronunciations of words like mouth, north, thought, the, than, then, etc. For this speaker, however, an alternative substitution for [T] appears to be the alveolar fricative [s]. This substitution is found in the speaker’s pronunciations of the words bath, cloth, and, variably, north. Approximants With regard to approximants, it appears that the [j] sound was produced in words such as duty and Tuesday in Gullah at the time that Turner conducted his research, although Turner transcribes such words with the symbols [Iu] (1971: 125). Thomas (this volume) reports that this pronunciation has been declining in the South since World War II, perhaps due in part to increased contact between Southerners and non-Southerners. It is possible, therefore, that this change has also affected Gullah pronunciations. According to Turner, [l] is generally clear before vowels and consonants, as well as word-finally in Gullah. He also reports that [l] is used either instead of or interchangeably with [r] in words such as Brewer, proud, fritter, Mary, bureau, and war, especially in intervocalic positions. And he reports occasional use of [n] instead of [l] on Edisto Island, in words such as lull (1971: 126–129). According to Turner, [r] never occurs finally or before consonants in his data, only before vowels. While modern-day Gullah appears to show some [r]-fullness, there is clearly still a preference for post-vocalic [r]-lessness in contemporary varieties. The speaker recorded for this project, in fact, provides numerous examples of [r]-lessness in words like near, square, start, north, letter, etc. 2.3.

Intonation

While not much has been done on intonation patterns in Gullah, some observations have been made. Turner (2002) offers several observations, many of which have been explored more recently in Bryan (2001). According to Turner, declarative sentences in Gullah often end in either a high, mid, or rising tone, as opposed

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to the falling tone typically found in StAmE varieties (2002: 249–250). According to Bryan, all three patterns appear to persist in modern-day Gullah. However, she observes that the rising tone pattern “seems to be the least affected by language contact” (2001: 3). Turner also observes many alternating tones throughout the course of a statement. For example, he notes use of level tones—mid, high, or low, use of low and mid or low and high tones, use of tones that fall from high to mid, and use of tones that rise from low or mid to high or from low to mid (2002: 250–252). Similarly Bryan observes that Gullah has many phrases that alternate high and low tones throughout the statement. She says this is particularly true of imperatives and pleas of desperation (2001: 4). Finally, Turner observes that Gullah speakers tend to use a level tone “at the end of a question, whether or not yes or no is required for an answer” (2002: 253). This pattern, of course, contrasts with that found in StAmE, where a rising tone is used for yes/no questions and a falling tone is used otherwise. Bryan finds that, among the intonational patterns observed by Turner, this particular pattern has undergone the most change. She observes, Younger speakers of Gullah (roughly from age 2–50) seem to almost always use a rising intonation for yes/no questions. When older Gullah speakers use the level tone for interrogatives, they sometimes preface the question with yes or no. For example, an elder would ask ... ‘Yes, are you going to the farm tomorrow?’ (2001: 5–6).

Bryan hypothesizes that this type of construction, by which yes or no prefaces the interrogative, was introduced by speakers who did not assimilate to the StAmE pattern, in order to clarify the intended yes/no interpretation (2001: 6).

3.

Conclusion

To the extent that the Gullah sound system has changed over the years, one factor that is likely to have contributed to these changes is the growth of the tourism industry. Following the end of the plantation era, the distinctiveness of Gullah was preserved for many years by the isolation of the Sea Islands. However, since the early 1900s, the building of bridges and subsequent growth of the tourism industry has resulted in a significant increase in mobility to and from the islands. In addition, negative stereotypes and misconceptions about the variety have discouraged some locals from speaking the variety in public for fear that they will be ridiculed by outsiders. Some believe that such factors have contributed to the merging of Gullah with mainland dialects. And many fear that this merging will eventually result in Gullah becoming extinct. However, Gullah still serves an important function among its speakers as a marker of culture, history, and identity. And even younger speakers,

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who are encouraged to speak dialects other than Gullah, seem to maintain some level of fluency in Gullah for purposes of in-group communication. This function alone may be enough to preserve the dialect for many years to come. Speaker information (for lexical set and reading passage): Name: Dorothy B. Age: 60s (?) Community: Mount Pleasant, South Carolina National Ancestry: American Year Interviewed: 2003 Gullah lexical set KIT DRESS TRAP LOT STRUT FOOT BATH CLOTH NURSE FLEECE FACE PALM THOUGHT GOAT GOAL

I¢ E4 Q4 A √ U Q4 o A i e Q4 ç o o ~ oE

GOOSE PRICE CHOICE MOUTH NEAR SQUARE START NORTH FORCE CURE HAPPY LETTER HORSES COMMA

Gullah reading passage THE NORTH WIND AND THE SUN WERE DISPUTING d´ nç´t wn` an d´ s√n w´® dIspjuRIN STRONGER, WHEN A TRAVELER CAME wI4tS w√z d´ st®çNgŒ wE4n ´ t®Qv´l‘ kem ALONG WRAPPED IN A WARM CLOAK. THEY AGREED ´lçN ®Qpt In ´ wçm klot de ´g®id WHICH WAS THE

u åI çI çU I ~ I´ E´ a ç’ o jo i Œ I ´

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THAT THE ONE WHO FIRST SUCCEEDED IN MAKING THE

dQt d´ w√n hu fŒs s´ksiR´d In me4kiN d´ TRAVELER TAKE HIS CLOAK OFF SHOULD BE

t®Qv´l‘ te4k Iz klok çf SUd bi CONSIDERED STRONGER THAN THE OTHER. THEN THE k´nsIR‘d st®çNgŒ dan d´ √D´ dE4n d´

NORTH WIND BLEW AS HARD AS HE COULD, BUT THE nç´t wn` blu az hQ4d Qz hi kUd b´t d´ MORE HE BLEW THE MORE CLOSELY DID THE

mo i blu d´ mo´ klosli dId d´ TRAVELER FOLD HIS CLOAK AROUND HIM; AND AT

t®Qv´lŒ foldId hIz klok ´®çn hIm Qn Qt LAST THE NORTH WIND GAVE UP THE ATTEMPT. THEN lQs d´ nç´t wn` gev √p d´ tEp dEn

SUN SHINED OUT WARMLY, AND IMMEDIATELY d´ s√n SåIn çUt wçmli an miRiItli

THE

THE TRAVELER TOOK OFF HIS CLOAK. AND SO THE

d´ t®Q4v´l´ tUk çf h√z klok an so d´ NORTH WIND WAS OBLIGED TO CONFESS THAT THE nç´t wn` (w√z) (´)blåIdZ tu k´nfEs Dat D´ SUN WAS THE STRONGER OF THE TWO. s√n w√z d´ st®çNgŒ ´v D´ tu *

I would like to acknowledge Dorothy Brown and Margaret Bryant for their assistance in collecting the audio samples for this project, Eric Holt and Cherlon Ussery for their assistance with the transcriptions, and Michael Montgomery for his assistance in locating relevant written sources. I accept full responsibility for any errors.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM.

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Bryan, Kisha C. 2001 An intonational analysis of the Gullah dialect. Unpublished manuscript. Cassidy, Frederick 1980 The place of Gullah. American Speech 55: 3–16. Creel, Margaret M. 1988 A Peculiar People: Slave Religion and Community-Culture Among the Gullahs. New York: New York University Press. Hair, Paul E. H. 1965 Sierra Leone items in the Gullah dialect of American English. Sierra Leone Language Review 4: 79–84. Hancock, Ian 1980 Gullah and Barbadian: Origins and relationships. American Speech 55: 17– 35. Johnson, Guy 1930 Folk Culture on St. Helena Island, South Carolina. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. Klein, Thomas B. and Meta Y. Harris 2000 Sound structure in Gullah: Evidence from the narratives in Turner’s Africanisms. Unpublished manuscript. Mack, Linda 1984 A comparative analysis of linguistic stress patterns in Gullah (Sea Island Creole) and English speakers. M.A. thesis, University of Florida. Mufwene, Salikoko 1993 Gullah’s development: Myths and sociohistorical facts. Revised version of a paper presented at the Language in Society II Conference. Auburn University. April, 1993. Nichols, Patricia 1976 Linguistic change in Gullah: Sex, age, and mobility. Ph.D. dissertation, Stanford University. Niles, Norma 1980 Provincial English dialects and Barbadian English. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Michigan. Stewart, William 1968 Continuity and change in American Negro dialects. The Florida FL Reporter 6, 1: 3–4, 14–16, 18. Turner, Lorenzo D. 1949 Africanisms in the Gullah Dialect. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Republished in 2002 by University of South Carolina Press. 1971 Notes on the sounds and vocabulary of Gullah. In: Williamson and Burke (eds.), 121–135. Van Sertima, Ivan 1976 My Gullah brother and I: Exploration into a community’s language and myth through its oral tradition. In: Deborah S. Harrison and Tom Trabasso (eds.), Black English: A Seminar, 123–146. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.

Cajun Vernacular English: phonology∗ Sylvie Dubois and Barbara M. Horvath

1.

The Cajun speech community: an overview

Cajuns live all along the Gulf Coast from Texas to Mississippi but are primarily concentrated in the small rural towns of southern Louisiana. Lafayette is the metropolitan center of Cajun country. Cajuns are the descendants of Acadians from Nova Scotia, Canada, who fled to French Louisiana around 1765 when the British took control of their lands. In Louisiana they joined many other French dialect-speaking populations as well as other people who had a language other than French as their first language (Dubois 2003). Even after the Louisiana Purchase, when English became the de facto official language, the Cajuns living in rural communities continued to speak only French. The majority of the Cajuns were poor and had little education. They lived – as many continue to live today – in small towns in close-knit extended families. Whereas some of the people of French ancestry were held in high esteem in Louisiana, the same cannot be said for the Cajuns. They were often ridiculed and made the butt of jokes. Although the state government mandated English as the sole language of education in 1929, English was not extensively used within the Cajun communities and in the family setting. Moreover, English was not well learned because many attended school irregularly or left school early. For quite a while English may have been the language of the classroom, but Cajun French was the language of the playground. It is this generation, people who are 60 years or older today, who are the original speakers of the dialect we have labelled Cajun Vernacular English (CajVE). Although language contact and language interference are clearly implicated in the origins of CajVE, we want to argue against the idea that CajVE is a variant of migrant English or foreigner English. We believe that the variable structure of CajVE is not Southern English and that these CajVE features are part of the vernacular of Cajuns. As Rubretch (1971) has mentioned for the nasalization process in CajVE, the phonological principles as well as the set of linguistic features we describe in CajVE represent a native development of English speech rather than a borrowing. CajVE is spoken fluently by Cajuns in their everyday lives within the community and often as the primary intergenerational language (Dubois and Horvath 2001). World War II marks an important juncture for Cajuns; the military service introduced many of the men to American ways, particularly to American ways of speaking. Some of the men who were old enough to join the army were already

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bilingual or semi-bilingual because of a concerted effort on the part of the Louisiana state government to enforce the speaking of English. After WWII, the social changes that swept across the landscape came to have a profound effect on the Cajun way of life. The children of the original CajVE speakers, who had grown up speaking French within their families, began to learn English better than their parents, attended school more regularly and for longer, and became financially more secure because of the discovery of oil in the region and the introduction of large-scale agriculture, which brought economic opportunities not previously available. Many of this generation of speakers stopped using French with their own children, hoping to avoid the negative stereotypes associated with being Cajun in Louisiana. Cajuns increasingly adopted American cultural ways; even Cajun music, an important part of Cajun life, was rejected in favor of country and western music. What stopped this cultural change from completely taking over is popularly called the Cajun Renaissance. Like many other ethnic groups, it is often the third generation in the language change/replacement process who feels the loss of culture the most. The old have not lost it, the middle-aged have consciously rejected it, and it is the young who suffer a sense of loss. Today, things Cajun have risen to an unprecedented status among Cajuns as well as outsiders. Cajun music, Cajun food, children’s books about Cajun life, serious Cajun literature – all backed up by state government support for its formerly French-speaking citizens - are to be found everywhere. Tourists come from near and far to participate in Cajun festivities. Bilingualism, however, has suffered such a loss that it is only the ideologues who would suggest the possible survival of French as the primary language of everyday communication by Cajuns. The dilemma for Cajuns is that they no longer have the linguistic distinctiveness they once had; those who want to mark their Cajun identity linguistically have only English as a vehicle. The young, especially young men, have begun to use some aspects of the CajVE of their grandfathers, the variety of English that had been widely rejected by the middle-aged at the same time that they were rejecting French. Not all people who identify as Cajuns speak CajVE and using the term “Cajun English” risks that interpretation. The term “ethnolect” is useful to identify a subtype of a vernacular such as CajVE, particularly because that term seems to describe a large number of locally based community dialects of English, widespread in the United States and elsewhere, which develop when a speech community collectively changes its language of everyday communication from French, Spanish, a Native American language, etc. to the politically dominant language, English in the case of the United States. Perhaps the key characteristic of an ethnolect is that “ethnicity” and the ethnic language are not given up concurrently so if ethnicity is to be marked linguistically, it can only be marked in the dominant language; this marking of ethnicity can become a source of language change in that language.

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Linguistic description of Cajun Vernacular English

CajVE has changed dramatically over three generations against a complex and changing social and linguistic background. Although some of the sociolinguistic variables that are characteristic of CajVE are also well-known variables in Southern American English (Rubrecht 1971; Scott 1992; Cox 1992; Eble 1993; Walton 1994; Cheramie 1999), we have argued that the origins of these sociolinguistic variables lie within the Cajun community and cannot be attributed solely to interference from French or to the spread of these features from the surrounding English dialects. CajVE represents an innovation from within the Cajun community so that some of the Cajun variants which began in the accented speech of the oldest of the speakers in our sample have either been passed on to the next generation of speakers or have been recycled as markers of social identity by the youngest speakers. Further background information on the Cajun community is available in Dubois (1997b) and Dubois and Melancon (1997). Sociolinguistic descriptions of a number of phonological and morphological variables can be found in Dubois and Horvath (1998a, 1998b, 1999, 2001, 2002 and 2003). A description of the entire sample and data collection procedures are given in Dubois, Gautreaux, Melançon and Veler (1995) and Dubois (1997a). 2.1.

Core features of CajVE pronunciation

Two fundamental phonological principles are at the heart of CajVE. The first one is the deletion of final consonants. CajVE speakers do not pronounce final consonants and they also drop final consonant clusters [nd, st, lm]. Not only does this occur in bimorphemic words but there appears to be a very high rate of deletion in monomorphemes, in VC contexts as well as CC contexts. We have noted the deletion of final [t] late, rent, [d] hand, food, wide, [ ] both, [r] together, [l] school, and both final [r] and [k] in New York (the absence of the whole cluster). We also notice the variable absence of the final consonant [z] in Larose (town), final [5] twelve, [s] house, fence, [n] nine, [m] mom, [f] life and even the absence of [] in fish. This phonological rule has an important morphosyntactical consequence: final consonants which happen to be morphological markers, e.g., final consonants representing -ed or -s (as reduced copula, possessive, plural or third sing person), will be deleted at the ends of words. The second phonological principle is the reduction or absence of glides in the four long stressed vowels [i], [e], [o] and [u] in CajVE. The high front vowel [i] in such words as me, street, and read, the mid front vowel [e], as in way, make and take, the mid back vowel [o], in words such as know, both, and over, and the high back vowel [u], as in food, school, and two, are realized as monophthongs [i:, e:, o:, u:] respectively. Mid vowels [o, e] are monophthongized more frequently

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than high vowels [i, u]. The diphthongs [ai], [a ] and [çi] in words such as fire, now, and oil also loose their glide and become monophthongs [a:], [] and [ç:]. This vocalic feature is very striking because Southerners produce considerable lengthening and gliding. 2.2.

CajVE vowels

Table 1 below summarizes the CajVE vocalic system. The phonetic inventory of CajVE is similar to Southern English (see Thomas, this volume). However, CajVE speakers do not prolong stressed vowels and diphthongs. Table 1.

Representative vocalic forms of CajVE

KIT DRESS TRAP LOT STRUT FOOT BATH DANCE CLOTH NURSE FLEECE FACE PALM THOUGHT GOAT GOOSE PRICE PRIZE CHOICE MOUTH, LOUD NEAR SQUARE START NORTH FORCE

I, i E, Q Q A, a 

Q Q, æ a ,  i e A a o u ai, A ai, A çi, ç˘ au, a i E, Q A, a ç®, ç´ ç®, ç´

CURE FIRE POWER happY lettER horsES commA HAND PIN/PEN THINK, LENGTH GOING GOAL POOL PULL FEEL FILL FAIL FELL MARRY MERRY MARY MIRROR/NEARER TOMORROW ORANGE

, u ai, A au, A I, i ,  I,
 Q, Q) I,
i,
çi, ç o u

i I ei, e E E, Q E E i, I a, A ç®, 

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Glide absence in FLEECE, FACE, GOAT, GOOSE is typical of CajVE. Their nuclei do not fall or become fronted as in Southern English. The nuclei of KIT may rise but CajVE speakers lower the DRESS vowel in words such as Texas, bed, red, better, well and egg to [æ]. Consequently the words bed and bad sound the same, although the word bed, pronounced [bQ] has a shorter length than the word bad pronounced [bæ]. Although CajVE shows the PIN/PEN and THOUGHT/LOT mergers, upgliding forms of THOUGHT, BATH and DANCE occur irregularly. By contrast, monophthongization of PRICE, PRIZE, CHOICE, FIRE, MOUTH, and POWER is prevalent. The nonrhotic aspect of CajVE can also be observed in NURSE, SQUARE, NORTH, FORCE (the last two are merged), CURE, and lettER. Like Southern English, the happY and horsES vowels are pronounced [
], and commA as []. Like the old white Southerners, CajVE speakers do not merge POOL/PULL, FEEL/FILL, FAIL/FELL. However, the vowels in MARRY/MERRY/MARY are usually identical, but those in TOMORROW/ORANGE may be distinct. CajVE provides an interesting case of shared phonetics with the dialects in its geographical region while maintaining a distinctive coherence as a separate dialect. The distinctiveness of CajVE is initially revealed quantitatively. Where comparisons can be made, the patterns of variability are not the same in terms of linguistic conditioning in each generation of speakers. Moreover, the actual rate of use of the features often far exceeds the results reported for Southern English varieties. When the scope of the variability is widened to include more data, i.e., the widespread deletion of all final consonants and the glide absence, it becomes clear that CajVE is qualitatively distinctive as well from Southern English, and especially American English. 2.3.

The non-aspiration of [p’, t’, k] and [h’] dropping

CajVE speakers do not aspirate [p, t, k] in word-initial position preceding a stressed vowel or [r, l, w, j] ( plant, table, and car). By not aspirating [p] in the word pat, it has the effect of sounding bat for American English speakers. The word hair pronounced without [h] is mistaken for air. 2.4.

The replacement of interdental fricatives [ , ] by stops [t, d]

Interdental fricatives are highly marked sounds: they are rare in the languages of the world and learned late by children. The substitutions for interdental fricatives most frequently reported in the literature are the dental stops [t, d]. They are well known as variables throughout most of the United States, and maybe wherever English is spoken. As Rubrecht (1971:152) mentions, the paradigm “dis, dat, dese, dose” is well-known in Louisiana to describe how Cajuns talk. There is no lack of speculation about the sources of the substitutions but one fact is fairly clear, all of them are stigmatized.

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Heavy nasalization

Despite its variable occurrence in English in general, vowel nasalization is also strongly associated with the Southern American English dialect. What seems to elicit negative comment from speakers of Southern English about CajVE is not so much the nasalization of the vowel but when the nasalization process spreads to adjacent sounds. “Heavy nasalization” in CajVE is likely to appear in monosyllabic words and can be characterized by a heavier than normal degree of nasalization, that is the nasalization spreads to the consonant before the vowel (e.g. where the [b] in a word like Alabama is nasalized). More front closed vowels are nasalized than back vowels. 2.6.

The trilled -r and deletion of -l

CajVE is a non-rhotic variety. The sound /r/ is absent in stressed syllables (letter) and in syllable coda in word-final (four) and pre-consonantal (hard) positions. CajVE speakers use flap [62] in word-initial consonant clusters [tr, dr, fr], as in three and tree. They also delete [l] in intervocalic and preconsonantal positions in words such as celery, jewelry and help.

3.

What is the social meaning of sounding Cajun?

The view from inside the Cajun community changes from one generation to the next. In order to explain why Cajun men and women have changed their ways of speaking over the three generations, we have to understand what kind of speech community we are dealing with: it is a subordinated cultural enclave which for several generations has been forced to change in the direction of the dominant culture. Massive language changes have taken place alongside massive social changes and the language change is an almost direct reflection of the sociohistory of this community. Language has played a central role in the relations between the Cajun enclave and the numerically and politically dominant English-speaking population in southwest Louisiana. 3.1.

The older generation

For hundreds of years, Cajuns were monolingual French speakers who lived in rural settlements where they were either the dominant group or the only group. It was some of our oldest speakers (the majority born before 1930) who first experienced the pressure to change their language at least to the extent of learning English. These first users of English were judged most harshly on their French and their English abilities. Men and women alike learned English as a second language

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but most would have had little use for it. All of them use a high rate of all of the CajVE features and there is no gender differentiation. The way they spoke English was unremarkable until the outside world began to impinge on the consciousness of the close-knit communities of southern Louisiana. Their variety of CajVE has little directly to do with the usual understanding of language change in progress except for two crucial facts: they, along with the generation earlier than theirs, begin the process of the creation of CajVE, and their ways of speaking provide the source for future change. The actual linguistic forms they use are relevant to what happens in the succeeding generations. 3.2.

The middle-aged generation

The industrialization process and the consequent process of language shift was in full swing with the middle-aged speakers in our sample (aged 40-59, the majority were born just before or during WWII). They were educated in English and reacted most vigorously to the denigration of both Cajun French and the Cajun way of speaking English. It is this generation that begins to use English extensively in the home in raising their children. When they were young, even the speakers who were raised bilingually started to speak English at home with their siblings. They were aware quite early of the stigma attached to both French and CajVE. Not only did they begin to sound like any other English speaker from south Louisiana, they also abandoned French. The dropping of many of the CajVE features is the attempt to attenuate the stigma of being Cajun for themselves and especially for their children. There are many pressures on this group of men and women to change in the direction of the dominant group. We find no gender distinction between middle-aged men and women but a rather uniform pattern of the adoption of an external norm for speaking English. 3.3.

The younger generation

The late 1960s mark the beginning of the so-called Cajun Renaissance; in 1968 a series of laws were passed which were meant to encourage the use of French. The state was declared officially bilingual, French instruction in high schools was mandatory, there was to be television in French, and the state was to foster international relations with other francophone nations. By the 1990s Cajun culture had acquired a definite cachet. However, French was no longer considered necessary either for economic reasons or for symbolizing Cajunness (Dubois and Melançon 1997: 86). Our youngest generation (born at the beginning of the 1970s) are most influenced by the Cajun Renaissance, are proud to be Cajuns and are able to profit most from the increasing status accorded to Cajun ancestry as well as the important economic benefits from the rapidly expanding tourist industry. However, if identity

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is to be signaled by language, then it is left to English to accomplish that because the majority of the young generation interact most of the time with outsiders as well as with their friends and immediate family members only in English. They use French only with some of their older extended family members. The public display of Cajun culture to outsiders – part of the tourist industry - reinforces the use of English as a carrier of Cajun identity. The Cajun Renaissance changed the meaning of sounding Cajun. In a rather sharp turnaround, things Cajun became interesting to insiders and outsiders alike, especially the food and music, and tourists wanted to visit, participate in Cajun life, and bring home souvenirs. Now it is good to sound Cajun. There is an important gender differentiation in the usage of several CajVE features in the younger generation. Young men return to the CajVE forms used by their grandparents’ generation, while young women generally use the standard variants introduced by the middle-aged speakers. We have called this change led by young men in the direction of the former stigmatized and stereotyped CajVE variants “recycling”. The gendered pattern can be attributed to the fact that the Cajun Renaissance largely affects the sphere of traditional male activities such as boating, fishing and hunting, and the display of Cajun culture associated with tourism (e.g. few women participate in the traditional “courir du Mardi Gras” or take tourists on trips up the bayou). Music is traditionally an essential part of the Cajun male culture, although it is now in the hands of only the young men. Traditional Cajun music is coming back in favor, replacing the country-western style that the middle-aged generation preferred. Even Cajun cuisine is publicly displayed as part of the male domain. A higher percentage of Cajun men than women are involved in Cajun advocacy organizations or report listening to Cajun radio programs. The symbols of traditional Cajun identity that are left to women are those associated with the family domain, including the raising of children and the pursuit of homecrafts. The shift from French to English which largely took place within the middle-aged generation means that young women no longer have any responsibility for passing on French to the children; their roles as Cajun torchbearers have been taken over by young men. Young women have not moved to recycle the CajVE features because they have fewer reasons than young men to associate themselves linguistically to the current understanding of a Cajun identity which is largely masculine.

4.

Conclusion

The birth of CajVE occurred less than a hundred years ago; in that time it developed into a quite distinctive vernacular, came very close to dying and was reborn. In fact, without its rebirth in recent times, we may well have failed to notice the

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birth at all. We would have said it was just the way people who learn English as a second language speak. Like so many varieties of accented English, it is not expected to be passed on to subsequent generations. The story of the fate of the languages of the Cajun people mirrors their history and the comings and goings of both Cajun French and Cajun English are intimately connected to the social and economic buffeting of the Cajun community since the 1920s. Capturing CajVE in speech and writing is part of the rebirth process. ∗

This research project is supported by NSF (BCS-0091823).

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Cheramie, Deany 1999 Cajun Vernacular English and the influence of vernacular on student writing in South Louisiana. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Southwestern Louisiana. Cox, Juanita 1992 A Study of the Linguistic Features of Cajun English. ED 352 840, ERIC (Educational Resources Information Center. Microfiche collection. Clement C. Maxwell Library, Bridgewater State College, Bridgewater, Massachusetts. Dubois, Sylvie Field method in Cajun communities in Louisiana. In: Albert Valdman (ed.), 1997a French et Creole in Louisiana, 47-70. New York/London: Plenum. 1997b Attitudes envers l’enseignement et l’apprentissage du français cadien en Louisiane. Revue des sciences de l’éducation 23, 3: 699–715. 2003 Letter-writing in French Louisiana: Interpreting variable spelling conventions, 1685-1840. Journal of Written Language and Literacy 6, 1: 31–70. Dubois, Sylvie, William Gautreaux, Megan Melançon and Tracy Veler 1995 The quality of French spoken in Louisiana. SECOL Review 19: 16–39. Dubois, Sylvie and Barbara Horvath 1998a From accent to marker in Cajun English: A study of dialect formation in progress. English World-Wide 19: 161-188. 1998b Let’s tink about dat: Interdental fricatives in Cajun English. Language Variation and Change 10: 245–261. 1999 When the music changes, you change too: Gender and language change in Cajun English. Language Variation and Change 11: 287–313. 2001 Do Cajuns speak Southern English? Morphosyntactic evidence. Working Papers in Linguistics (Dept. of Linguistics, University of Pennsylvania) 7: 27–41. 2002 Sounding Cajun: The rhetorical use of dialect in speech and in writing. American Speech 77: 264–287.

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Verbal morphology in Cajun Vernacular English: A comparison with other varieties of Southern English. Journal of English Linguistics 31: 1–26. Dubois, Sylvie and Megan Melancon 1997 Cajun is dead—long live Cajun: Shifting from a linguistic to a cultural community. Journal of Sociolinguistics 1: 63–93. Eble, Connie 1993 Prolegomenon to the study of Cajun English. SECOL Review 17: 165–77. Rubrecht, August 1971 Regional phonological variants in Louisiana speech. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Florida. Scott, Ann Marie (ed) 1992 Cajun Vernacular English: Informal English in French Louisiana. Lafayette: University of Southwestern Louisiana Press. Walton, Shana 1994 Flat Speech and Cajun ethnic identity in Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana. Ph.D. Dissertation, Tulane University.

Chicano English: phonology Otto Santa Ana and Robert Bayley

1.

Introduction

Chicano English displays a remarkable range of language contact phenomena. Speakers of this ethnic dialect enact their social practices with Chicano English, in conjunction with Chicano Spanish and in some cases other varieties of Spanish and English as well. In dynamic urban multicultural and binational settings, these social practices include surprisingly complex identities and roles (Mendoza-Denton 1997; Fought 2003). Sadly, the general public’s awareness of Chicano English (ChcE) commonly involves stigma, a situation that has not changed in the last forty years. Many U.S. public school educators, in particular, falsely attribute to ChcE a general inadequacy for educational and wider social purposes (Valdés 1998; Valencia 2002). The hostility that ChcE arouses is consistent with the general public’s disapproval of other U.S. ethnic dialects, such as African American Vernacular English (AAVE), whose communities seem to resist the national hegemony of English monolingualism and Standard English. A commonplace often bandied about is that ChcE is merely “Spanish-accented English”. Both lay people and linguists have this reaction, and the statement expresses some truth, as we will illustrate. However, in the context of some institutional settings, an insidious misunderstanding follows. The misconception is that ChcE is not a dialect, but simply the mispronounced English of Spanish speakers who are learning English as a second language. From this mistaken point of view it follows that if adults speak so-called Spanish-accented English, they are fossilized second language learners, while children demonstrate incomplete learning of English. This misconception has serious social consequences in U.S. schools, where an inordinate number of Chicano students do not advance scholastically. Since these schools are charged with teaching children standard English, educators often falsely conclude that Chicano student failure is a result of their inability to master the standard language. Many teachers witness evidence each day in the classroom that sustains this falsehood. English-monolingual public school teachers come into contact with Mexican immigrant students, including new immigrant students who are learning English. Several articulatory mismatches strike native English-speaking teachers as discordant. But these classrooms are not linguistically homogeneous. At least three dimensions mark this diversity. Newly arrived immigrants and those who have been in public schools for several years mingle with U.S.-born Chicano stu-

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dents. Second, some of the U.S.-born students are monolingual while others are bilingual. Third, some Chicano students speak the English dialects of their EuroAmerican teachers, while others speak a native English dialect that both Chicano and Spanish-speaking immigrant children acquire in their home communities. This final variety is ChcE, which appears to maintain certain phonological features that are characteristic of Spanish native-speaker, English-as-a-second-language learner interlanguage, or in the current terminology of U.S. public schools, English language learner (ELL) speech. Speakers of ChcE express social solidarity in their native community dialect by way of these features. Teachers and other observers, however, tend to conflate the heterogeneity. Upon hearing ChcE, some teachers presume it is learner speech. Accordingly, they are likely to believe that U.S.-born Chicanos also speak an incompletely-native, Spanish-accented English. These children’s educational plight, they believe, can only be alleviated when they stop speaking Spanish, which is thought to interfere with their English, and learn English “well”. This notion expands to the absurd to include children who speak no Spanish. How a language that children cannot speak can interfere with a language that they do speak is left unexplained. In this chapter, we attempt to dispel some of the common misconceptions surrounding ChcE by providing a description of ChcE phonology and its relationship to Spanish on the one hand and Euro-American varieties on the other.

2.

Vowels

When compared to English phonology, the Spanish vowel system does not distinguish between tense and lax peripheral vowels, nor does it employ distinctive sets of so-called long and short vowels, or a set of r-colored allophones of the long vowels. Finally, it does not have a set of diphthongs, in addition to a set of off-gliding vowels. Consequently, when an ELL initially reworks the five-monophthong Spanish vowel system, certain phonemic approximations and mergers tend to occur. For example, Santa Ana (1991: 154–160) spectrographically measured the naturally occurring speech of a seventeen-year old ELL male. His still developing English (his preferred language) was impressionistically marked with phonemic mergers, and the absence of off-glides, particularly in the high vowels, /i/ and /u/. The instrumental study provided evidence of two mergers, /i/ ~ /
/ and // ~ /æ/. The spectrographic analysis further indicated that he did not employ the English stressed vowel reduction system. In striking contrast to this ELL, native speakers of ChcE share the catalog of vowel phonemes, as well as most of the associated surface phonological features, of their local U.S. English dialect (García 1984; Penfield and Ornstein-Galicia 1985; Galindo 1987; Santa Ana 1991; Veatch 1991; Mendoza-Denton 1997; Fought 1997, 2003; Thomas 2001). For example, Los Angeles ChcE shares with most other Euro-American dialects four historical or on-going vowel mergers, including the

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so-called ‘short o’ merger, which may be stated in terms of J.C. Wells (1982) lexeme sets (Veatch 1991: 184). In other AmE dialects, as in ChcE, the LOT class of lexemes merges with the THOUGHT, CLOTH and PALM lexeme sets. While the PALM or ‘broad a’ merged some time ago, Labov (1991) and others see the LOT or ‘short o’ and THOUGHT or ‘long open o’ to be a merger that is currently advancing. Second, ChcE also does not distinguish the BATH and TRAP lexeme sets. Third, Chicanos pronounce the familiar merry, Mary, and marry identically, that is, they share the merger of intervocalic non-high front vowels. Lastly, unlike some Southern U.S. English dialects, ChcE seems to have merged the NORTH and FORCE lexeme sets. The similarity of the ChcE inventory of vowel phonemes led Veatch to suggest that the ChcE system of stressed vowels may be the local Euro-American English system (1991: 188). Nevertheless, ChcE elicits a quick and often negative judgment from local matrix dialect speakers. So the question remains what linguistic norms are flouted when Chicanos speak their home dialects. In an attempt to synthesize the work of our (above mentioned) colleagues, we suggest four characteristic differences: I.

ChcE is more monophthongal, especially in monosyllabic words, than other AmE dialects. II. ChcE is articulated with greater vowel space overlap of front vowels than other AmE dialects. III. ChcE may have a different system of vowel reduction than other AmE dialects. IV. ChcE has several linguistic variables (that is to say, variably-occurring ethnic dialect features, discourse markers and prosody contours) that signal Chicano community identities. ChcE speakers use (IV), the ChcE-specific linguistic variables, in conjunction with other more widely-shared variables, such as (u-fronting) and negative concord, in complex ways to express their multifaceted identities, as shown by Fought (2003, chapters 5 and 6), who begins to tease out the simultaneous use of numbers of variables to express complex identities. The ChcE-specific variables are local community variables, including Greater Los Angeles (E), (/t merger), and Texas (-ing), California (
) and the Th-Pro discourse marker (Galindo 1987; García 1984; Mendoza-Denton 1997; Penfield and Ornstein 1985, chapter 3). We have yet to definitively locate a pan-ChcE linguistic variable, which in part is a consequence of the relative lack of sociolinguistic research on this dialect. Alternatively, it might be due to the separate beginnings of ChcE in different regions of the Midwest and Southwest (but cf. Bayley 1994 and Santa Ana 1996). However, the four characteristic phonological differences mentioned above characterize both bi- and monolingual ChcE speakers (Santa Ana 1991; Fought 2003).

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Regarding (IV), we think that these ChcE identity markers are reflexes of Spanish-speaking ELL transfer features that were refashioned when local Chicano communities in distinct locales established themselves. For now, this hypothesis remains untested because no study has addressed the 20th century formation of ChcE dialects. Nor has anyone documented the creation of a new ChcE dialect. The new immigrant Mexican communities throughout the U.S. South and in northeastern cities, however, offer key sites to investigate on-going social processes that are possibly creating linguistic variables in new ChcE speech. For example, Spanish-speaking immigrants have only recently begun to work in agribusiness in large numbers in the U.S. South. At times they do not come from traditional sites of Mexican migration, bringing new Spanish dialects to the U.S. In addition to the interesting English that will develop, since their U.S. settings are new, Mexican Spanish may not hold sway over other Spanish dialects, as is the case in the Chicano urban centers established in the 20th century. These significant demographic changes portend significant sociolinguistic changes. Furthermore, the politics of immigration have changed (Finks 2003). All of these factors offer opportunities for innovative explorations of language contact. 2.1.

Monophthongs and diphthongs

ChcE tends to be monophthongal, particularly its high vowels, /i, u/ (Santa Ana 1991: 155). This contrasts with the typically diphthongal other AmE dialects. Santa Ana, whose work involved impressionistic transcription as well as spectrographic measurements of naturally occurring speech gathered in sociolinguistic interviews, noted more off-glides in ChcE mid vowel pronunciation. He sampled the speech of four U.S.-born Los Angeles residents who represented different generations of speakers, as well as a narrative of the previously-mentioned young male immigrant ELL. Later studies have corroborated many of Santa Ana’s findings. Fought (1997, 2003), for example, found that high vowels, /e, /, were articulated with fewer and shorter off-glides. According to Fought, Chicanos articulated /a
/ with no loss of glide, but seemed to employ a higher tongue-height (lower F1) nucleus. Fought also found that /a / is most often pronounced with the Euro-American off-glide, but older speakers articulated a glide-less [a], as in counselor. The monophthongal quality of ChcE vowels is most distinguished in exclamations, such as Ah!, Oh!, or in emphasized final syllables of vowel-final words, such as the underscored syllables in “I do, too, live in East L.A.!” ChcE speakers often pronounce sustained duration syllables with minimal off-gliding, no matter how long the segment is prolonged. 2.2.

Vowel distribution

The typical native Spanish-speaking ELL has difficulty distinguishing the socalled tense and lax vowel subsystems. In contrast, ChcE speakers resolve all such

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interlanguage mergers. They sustain the /i/ and /
/ distinction. Still, some ChcE speakers pronounce the high vowel variably as from [
] to [i], especially in the suffix, -ing (Fought 2003: 65). Santa Ana’s (1991) spectrographic study found the typical tense/lax front vowel distribution, in terms of F1/F2 parameters, among four native English-speaking Chicanos. Their front tense vowels had a dense narrow distribution in vowel space, while the corresponding distribution of their front lax /
, / vowels created a more diffuse, less peripheral cloud in vowel space. The ChcE /æ/ patterns with low vowels, rather than front vowels, as is the case for other U.S. English dialects. Thus, /æ/ has greater F1 range than F2 (front/back). The distribution of this vowel creates a narrow cloud that is elongated along the height parameter. For this reason, ChcE appears to be participating in the General California English æ-raising process (Fought 2003, but cf. Veatch 1991). In addition, the ChcE articulation of the AmE low back vowel, /7/, as in mom or caught, is often a Spanish [a], as in talk, daughter and law (Fought 2003). A spectrographic study of four native speakers indicates that the nucleus of the high back vowel, /u/, is either fronted or fronting (Santa Ana 1991). The distribution cloud of /u/ extends across the upper top of the vowel space, from the back to an intermediate front of the /i/ cloud. There is little overlap with the front vowel distribution clouds; the /u/ distribution is higher than the mid-front vowel cloud. While Santa Ana (1991) finds much less / / fronting than u-fronting in the speech of the Los Angeles Chicano men he instrumentally plotted, Fought (2003) states that ChcE / / is realized at times as a high rounded [], while at other times it is an unrounded fronted [i], as in look or looking. 2.3.

Vowel centralization

Whereas unstressed vowels in most dialects of American English typically centralize to a schwa-mean, as in White Chicago English (Veatch 1991, chapter 7), only some of ChcE unstressed vowels centralize (Santa Ana 1991). Their high vowels, /i/ and /u/, do not reduce, while mid vowels reduce less frequently than AmE mid vowels. As well, ChcE low vowels centralize (Santa Ana 1991). On the basis of five speakers, Santa Ana found no language-internal or social category explanation for their different centralization targets, and consequently sought a dialect contact explanation. He hypothesized that the extent to which ChcE-speakers accommodated to the general U.S. schwa-mean centralization pattern corresponded to the amount of social contact and personal identification that an individual had with Euro-American dialect speakers (177). In contrast, Veatch (1991: 200) instrumentally measured the ChcE vowel centralization of a single individual. His measurements indicated that non-stress articulation lowers ChcE /e, , æ/ and /7/, that it backs /o, /, and finally, that it has no effect on /i/. Veatch characterized ChcE vowel centralization as a single pro-

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cess, namely all centralizing vowels shift to an [&] vowel quality. In this process, ChcE is similar to Alabama English in having an [1] centralization target (Veatch 1991, chapter 8). From the current authors’ present perspective, the issue of vowel centralization in ChcE has not been resolved. 2.4.

Linguistic variables

Mendoza-Denton (1997), building on the (-ing) studies of Galindo (1987), divided -ing into two variables: (
) and Th-Pro. She conducted an ethnography in a northern California high school, focusing on Chicana social groups. Among other young women’s groups, Mendoza-Denton worked closely with two rival gangs. To become a gang member in this school, a girl must either identify as a sureña or a norteña. These oppositional identities were expressed across the full range of social symbols, from clothing and makeup to facial expression and posture. One key feature of sureña identity is linguistic distancing from English, which sureñas accomplish by eschewing English in favor of Spanish. Norteñas, on the other hand, mark their identity via Spanish/English codeswitching and use of English. While these groups of young women pull away from each other via overt linguistic choices, at a more fundamental level they share identity features that express antagonism toward Euro-American society. Variable raising and lowering of (
) is present of the speech of both norteñas and sureñas (Mendoza-Denton 1999). Chances are greatest that the vowel will be lower before a nasal. An engma (which here corresponds to the U.S. standard nasal in -ing) is less ethnically marked than an alveolar nasal (which corresponds to the substrate nasal consonant). The raising process occurs most prominently among gang members and gang-affiliated groups, and these young women raised (
) most frequently with -thing words. Sureñas and norteñas both used increased frequencies of raised [i] and especially [in] forms of (
), to signal greater social distance from both Chicanas who identify with Euro-Americans, and from Euro-Americans. Chicana gang members also employ a meaningful lowering of /
/. Hence they exploit iota, (
), a front lax vowel with no Spanish correspondence, to express identity and ideology. Among Chicanos and Chicanas, in contrast, the closely-related tense vowel /i/ never lowers to [i] (Fought 2003: 65). In northern California, -thing words such as something, nothing, and phrases such as and everything, may be characterized as Th-Pro, a gang discourse marker (Mendoza-Denton 1999). This is not thing, the pronoun, which is used to refer to noun antecedents. Rather Th-Pro serves to construct mutual understanding and reinforce solidarity between gang interlocutors. Consider the underscored discourse marker in: “I was walking around the other day and José stopped to talk to me and everything.” Mendoza-Denton gives three reasons (1997: 139–141) why “and everything” is well suited to signal in-group referencing: 1) as an example of a

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clause-terminal discourse marker, it is stigmatized by middle-class speakers; 2) the underspecified semantics of thing allows it to be used widely across any number of inferences associated with in-group understandings; 3) the three phonemes in (-ing) are each subject to ELL transfer stigma, /θ/, /
/, and //, hence providing a full range of expression of in-group/out-group social positioning. Mendoza-Denton has brought us full circle. We can imagine how an ELL rendering something as [sant
n] would trigger a White chauvinist’s derisive remark, to the speaker’s embarrassment. She has shown us that a mark of embarrassment has been subverted to become a marker of ethnic identification. Although (-ing) is currently an indicator (since it is not consciously recognized by these in-group speakers), it is associated with the stereotypical speech of ELLs. This overlap suggests that the classic empirical linguistic trinity of variables (indicator, marker, and stigmatized form) should be reconsidered. Mendoza-Denton has documented the rich heterogeneity of Chicanos, focusing on women’s lives and language, and the tensions and conflicts within these communities. To further illustrate the complexity of identity matters in dialect contact settings, Fought (2003: 66) observed in West Los Angeles that Euro-Americans who live among Chicanos also use the raised [i] and [in] forms of (-ing). A major sound change in progress in California, /u/-fronting, has also been investigated in ChcE (Fought 1997, 2003). Fought also initiated studies of less well-known processes, (æ-backing) and (æ-raising). Not only did she account for system-internal factors, with sensitive ethnographic work across social classes, gender, age and employment groups of Chicanos in West Los Angeles, but she was able to characterize the social value articulated by (u-fronting) among these Chicanos and their Euro-American neighbors. At the risk of oversimplification, Fought ascertained that Chicanos associate this linguistic variable with Euro-American identity and hegemony. Accordingly, middle-class female ChcE speakers without gang affiliation fronted their /u/ to the greatest extent. Conversely, working-class or low-income earning Chicanos who are affiliates or members of gangs articulated /u/ in the most backed, least fronted vowel space. Other ChcE speakers having other mixes of these social factors have intermediate patterns of /u/-fronting. No single social category could account for indexical coding for assimilationist identity among the speakers who participated in Fought’s study. Furthermore, Fought demonstrated that Chicanos, as a linguistic minority community, do not necessarily have the same relationship that speakers of AAVE have with the matrix Euro-American local dialect. In 2001 William Labov stated, “no matter how frequently they are exposed to the local [Euro-American] vernacular, the new patterns of regional sound change do not surface in … Black, Hispanic, or Native American … speech” (cited in Fought 2003: 112). His statement was overly general, since Los Angeles Chicanos participated in u-fronting, as Veatch (1991) and Santa Ana (1991) noted in their separate instrumental studies. Moreover, Fought provided both a detailed description of the participation of the Chica-

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no community in, and social meanings associated with, this Californian change in progress. Second, Fought made a crucial observation concerning language internal matters of sound change. Fronting of /u/ is not advancing in the expected “curvilinear pattern”, namely where the most innovative, “most advanced vowel systems are found among younger speakers: young adults and youth in late adolescence”, and that occupational groups with highest and lowest social status disfavor the changes in progress (Fought 2003: 125). Indeed, ChcE participation in (u-fronting) cuts across socioeconomic groups: “the group with the highest /u/-fronting includes women from both middle-class backgrounds, and very low socioeconomic backgrounds” (Fought 2003: 125).

3.

Consonants

ChcE has the same consonant phoneme inventory, and all the allophonic variants, of General Californian English (GCE). ChcE allo-consonantal variants occur in addition to GCE consonantal allophones, and these ChcE variants occur with greater or lesser frequency among different ChcE speakers (Fought 2003, section 3.3). The ChcE alveolar stops often have an apico-dental point of articulation (which is the corresponding place of articulation in Spanish). Additionally, like some other English vernaculars, but not GCE, ChcE variably articulates its interdental fricatives as apico-dental stops. In her study of Los Angeles ChcE, Fought indicates that Euro-American participants did not use apico-dental stops, while even “very ‘standard’ sounding ChcE speakers who used few or none of the ChcE syntactic features” were heard to use apico-dental stops (2003: 68). Still, regarding the use and frequency of this substrate-based feature, Santa Ana’s impressions corroborate Fought’s claim that some Los Angeles ChcE speakers used the apicodental stops “almost categorically” (2003: 68). It is often impossible to predict which ChcE speaker is bilingual and which is an English-speaking monolingual. This phonetic patterning again belies the commonplace view that ChcE pronunciation is merely a matter of Spanish-language transfer of ELLs. Fought noted that for both GCE and ChcE, one variant of syllable-final voiceless stops is a glottalized form, which she describes as a tensing and closing of the vocal cords as the stop is closed orally. This is often called an unreleased stop. Fought remarks that the consonant pronunciation is often associated in ChcE with a preceding creaky voice vowel. A more pronounced version of this process that Fought observes is the complete substitution of the voiceless stop with a glottal stop. Finally, there is a rare ejective version in which the glottalized stop is pronounced with a sharp burst of aspiration. The most studied consonantal process in ChcE is (-t, d), or final alveolar stop deletion (Santa Ana 1991, 1992, 1996; Bayley 1994, 1997; Fought 1997). By /-t, d/ deletion we mean the loss of final alveolar stops in the process of consonant clus-

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ter simplification, e.g. last week [læs wik]. There are other related simplification processes. One is assimilation of a consonant of the cluster, as in l-vocalization, e.g. old [od]. Another is the deletion of one of the consonants. There is also nasalization in English, in -nC clusters, e.g. want, [wa t], or in the context of a following unstressed vowel, a nasal flap. Then there is vowel epenthesis to create a syllable boundary between adjacent consonants to preserve the segments and eliminate the cluster. Finally, a process that is related to epenthesis is reassignment of the final consonant to a following vowel-initial syllable. Santa Ana (1991) stated that these ChcE forms also occur in other English dialects. However, Chicanos may reduce clusters to a greater extent than many other dialects. A related process that calls for study is the deletion of single consonants in final or syllable-final position. We concur with Fought’s impression that it occurs “more frequently than in any other English dialect”, particularly among older speakers (Fought 2003: 69). Santa Ana (1991, 1996) reviewed multivariate analyses of the patterns of the workhorse linguistic variable (-t, d) for several U.S. dialects (Standard American, several African American English studies, a vernacular Euro-American dialect, and Puerto Rican English) to determine the similarity of ChcE to other U.S. English dialects. He found the basic structure is shared across these dialects, but ChcE reanalysis has created a distinctive variable that reveals its Mexican Spanish substrate influence. As a process operating in real time on the speech stream, many phonologists consider (-t, d) to be strictly a surface process, not a more foundational process (such as a Level-1 Process in models of Lexical Phonology). Santa Ana (1996) claimed otherwise, stating that the full range of conditioning effects on ChcE (-t, d) can be ordered in terms of the basic level concept of syllabification. He offered four generalizations. First, in ChcE, syllable stress is not a factor in deletion, which is a feature expected in stress-timed languages like English. Second, for both preceding environment and following environment, there is a correlation of the conditioning segment sonority to the frequency of deletion of the alveolar stop. An increase of the sonority of the preceding segment is correlated with increasing deletion. Conversely, a decrease of the sonority level of the following segment is correlated with an increase in deletion. Third, ChcE (-t, d) is correlated to [± coronal] place of articulation of the adjacent segment. Finally, regarding morphological categories, ChcE speakers attend to the regular past tense and past participle morphology of English, and tend to simplify alveolar stop clusters that carry this inflectional morphology at a very low rate. Santa Ana (1996) schematized ChcE (-t, d) as follows: /-t, d/ → < ∅ > / < [sonorityα coronalγ] > morph β

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The alveolar stop variably deletes as conditioned by three rank-ordered constraints: the major constraint, or α, the sonority of the environment; β, the grammatical category of the word containing the /-t, d/ segment; and γ, the coronal value of the environment. The conditioning constraints are placed in angle brackets to indicate their variable values. A feature of the analysis not displayed in this schema is the contrary directions of the effect that sonority has on the /-t, d/, namely that increasing sonority of the preceding coda increases deletion while decreasing sonority of the following onset increases deletion. Fought (2003: 72) suggests the surprising absence of the syllable-stress factor in ChcE (-t, d) may be due to the syllable timed quality of the dialect, to which we turn.

4.

Prosody

For some ChcE researchers and many lay people, prosody is the most salient feature of ChcE. For empirical linguists, it remains the most elusive. Some ChcE speakers readily employ strongly Spanish-like patterns at one moment, and utterly Germanic patterns at other times, while others exhibit a far more limited range at either end of the continuum. This aspect of phonology continues to bother ChcE researchers, and may need to wait for even greater ease-of-use advances in acoustic research technology. We want to reiterate that prosody is as mercurial in everyday speech, as it is prone to reification by the public. Fought (2003) observes that the ChcE prosody system remains poorly understood. All we have are a few accumulated observations about word-stress patterns, intonation and syllabification. She centers her own review (2003: 70–80) on Santa Ana’s comment that ChcE “has a syllable timed quality to it” (1991: 139). Both Fought and Santa Ana are quick to note that ChcE exhibits the features of English stress timing (namely, lengthening and peripheralization of stressed vowels), but a syllable-timed quality remains at the root of the ChcE dialect. Fought concludes that ChcE is “intermediate in some ways” to other strongly stress-timed English dialects and the syllable-timed Spanish language. We turn to our list of selected ChcE prosodic features. 4.1.

Word stress

Word stress differences in ChcE are idiosyncratic to the individual. These most often appear in compound words, such as Thanksgíving Day (unstressed day), mòrning síckness, typewríter, shów up, but also in polysyllabic words, as in réalized, ássociate, téchnique. Some time ago, Penfield (1984) suggested that ChcE compounds are stressed on the second word, rather than the first as they would be in most other English dialects. Of course, this does not capture the facts of the vast majority of ChcE word compounds that exhibit typical English stress patterns.

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In phrasal stresses (across a breath group or some other set of words), Fought notes that main stress may occur at unexpected places. She offers (2003: 71) two sentences (main stress boldfaced) from a U.S.-born 16-year-old Chicano: Some girls don’t think what they’re gonna go through. It’s all right for her to talk to her homeboys, but it ain’t all right for me to talk to my homegirls? Fought states that this pattern would be only “marginally acceptable” to many speakers of other English dialects. She goes on to say it has many parallels to ELL stress patterning – again a substrate-influenced pattern. Fought points to potentially useful directions in ChcE prosody research, namely testing system-level hypotheses, and moving away from lists of word-stress anomalies, to characterizations of larger units of prosody. 4.2.

Intonation

Five major patterns occur variably in ChcE (Penfield 1984). First, there is the ChcE rising glide, which “can occur at almost any point in a contour” (Penfield and Ornstein 1985: 48), as in rules and choking in the following sentences:

(1)

(2)

The glide is accompanied by a lengthening of the affected syllables. Penfield and Ornstein indicate the distinctiveness of ChcE is that unstressed portions of multisyllabic words, e.g. -ing, are maintained at the higher pitch level (1985: 49). The equivalent pattern in AmE would be:

(3)

Penfield (1984) states that the rising glide is associated with emphasis on the specific word, and not the contrastive stress that would be the case in AmE. Penfield

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and Ornstein (1985) offer (4) as an example of the same word appearing twice in a sentence, once with the rising glide (marking emphasis), and the more general step-down pitch contour, which does not have this added meaning:

(4)

A second aspect of this ChcE pattern is that, if the glide occurs on the last stressed syllable of the utterance, the pitch of glide can be maintained, whether or not the intent is emphatic or not. Neutral declarative utterances do not necessarily end with a falling step contour, as is the typical AmE pattern:

(5) Example (5) is a contrastive use of the glide, spoken by a Chicana who narrated her conversation with her physician where she makes a “countercomment” (1984) stating that she did not want to be sedated when she delivered the baby. Penfield indicates that a syllable-final rising glide in AmE dialects tends to express doubt, surprise or questions. In ChcE, it does not necessarily convey such notions. In a related final contour distinction, ChcE non-emphatic declarative utterances can end on middle pitch, rather than falling to low pitch in a step. This is the pattern that might briefly confuse speakers of other English dialects, who expect a more pronounced falling contour to signal the end of an utterance: (6)

(7)

The third ChcE pattern concerns initial pitch position. A ChcE utterance can begin on a high pitch, which is mistakenly interpreted by speakers of other dialects as focus. This high pitch does not necessarily mark focus. In some cases, it apparently marks solidarity. At other times, its meaning is harder to pin down:

Chicano English: phonology

(8)

Other dialects:

(9)

ChcE:

(10)

ChcE:

Query: Response:

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Did they buy the house? # Yes. # They bought the house. #

This ChcE initial high pitch does not function to signal emphasis. Penfield and Ornstein suggest that it is this prosodic contour that gives AmE speakers the “folk conception that Chicanos are highly emotional or excited, since the use of a high pitch at pre-contour level—especially if it spanned over more than a word—would certainly convey such a meaning in Standard English” (1985: 50). Four, ChcE has a distinctive gliding-final contour, that is, at the end of utterances/sentences. Compare the USEng step-like fall that marks its sentence-final contour. This ChcE terminal contour most often signals emphasis or affect. In contrast to the ChcE gliding contour, the Euro-American tune typically expresses emphasis with abrupt block-like steps of pitch: (11)

ChcE

(12)

Other dialects:

This is the stereotypic pattern that Euro-American actors use when playing Mexican bandits or peasants in Hollywood Westerns. It is also the intonation of the Warner Bros. cartoon character, Speedy Gonzales. This is not a subtle caricature of a Mexican, no matter what its original intent. The mouse is outfitted with Mexican sombrero, and Mexican peasant clothing dating from no later than the 1920s, in contrast to the cartoon’s origin in the 1950s. It offers a White American’s derisive depiction of Spanish-accented English. It should be noted that ChcE speakers who use the rise/fall gliding final contour will also use the local matrix Euro-American English step-like final contour.

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Five, rather than using the AmE yes/no question contour, which again is a blocklike step that ends on a low pitch, ChcE speakers variably employ another gliding contour that does not end in a final low pitch: (13)

Other dialects:

(14)

ChcE

Fought (2003: 75–76) continues that these terminal contours are distinct from the so-called U.S. American cross-dialect “uptalk” contour that is used in non-emphatic declaratives, in spite of the fact that both the ChcE contour and the uptalk contour do not end in a falling pitch. Santa Ana can confirm that in his current contact with Los Angeles ChcE speakers he can distinguish both declarative contours. Intonational contours, arguably the most changeable and ephemeral elements of speech, are very readily reified. At this point it is useful to recall that these speech utterance patterns are rendered vexingly complex by individual language histories, speech event features such as topic, setting, and, among many other social factors, interlocutor. Add to this the complexity inherent in cultural features such as habituated verbal practice and, in contrast, mapping patterns of responses to novel interactional situations. Moreover, it is important to consider the open flexibility that individuals have in the moment of their speaking turn. In studies of naturally occurring prosody, we must add the issue of the observer’s paradox, and the impossibility to replicate speech events—however closely one reproduces the setting. The traditional scientific response to such research circumstances, namely large-scale projects designed to wash out variation, are entirely inappropriate in these circumstances. This makes the goal of characterizing ChcE intonation in its dynamic contact setting a first-order methodological challenge. Fought (2002: 72–76) provides a fascinating angle on some ChcE intonation patterns, drawing on Joseph Matluck’s (1952) description of the Spanish language circumflex pattern of the Mexican altiplano (the high plateau formed between the eastern and western Sierra Madre mountain chains). To find the origin of the circumflex pattern, Matluck points to another substrate language: “The distinctive musical line in the unfolding of the phonetic group is probably the most striking trace that the Nahuatl language has left in the Spanish of the Valley [of Mexico City] and the plateau: a kind of song with its curious final cadence, very similar to the melodic movement of Nahuatl itself”. Fought continues to translate Matluck: “From the antepenultimate syllable to the penult there is a rise of about three semitones, and from there to the final a fall of six semitones more or less. Both the penult and the final syllables are lengthened” (Fought

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2002: 74). Matluck also describes a working-class feature that can be found in ChcE, namely lengthening of stressed vowels at the start and the end of a phrase: Accented syllables in vernacular speech in the Valley tend to be much longer than those of the educated class and in Castilian generally; on the other hand, unaccented syllables are shortened. The overall impression is of syllabic lengthening at the beginning and especially at the end of the sentence, and of shortening in the middle. For example: Don’t be bad > Doont be baaad; I have to do it soon > III have to do it sooon (quoted in Fought 2002: 75).

Fought states that not only is this pattern readily observed in the English ELLs, it is also heard in the speech of ChcE native speakers. Once again, the substrate Mexican Spanish influence has not disappeared in ChcE, it has been transformed into another feature of in-group solidarity. 4.3.

Syllabification

Two processes, both in need of more clarifying research, further contribute to the Spanish accent of ChcE, namely syllabic differences that involve changes of conversational tempo (Fought 2003). English has ambisyllabic consonants, namely an intervocalic consonant in which a syllable boundary can be placed. Spanish does not have ambisyllables. The result of ambisyllabification is that English sounds as if it has more closed syllables than a comparable stretch of Spanish speech does. Now for all languages, most of the dictionary entry consonants are pronounced in slow, enunciated speech. At more rapid tempos, consonant clusters are reduced, thus creating more open syllables. However, in English, more ambisyllables, such as flaps, are created as well. In ChcE, as the tempo increases, fewer ambisyllables are created because more single consonants, and even whole word-internal syllables are lost (Fought 2003). This follows the syllabification patterns of the ChcE substrate, altiplano Mexican Spanish. Mexican Spanish tends toward greater synocope (preserving final syllables while losing medials), in contrast to Caribbean Spanish dialects which tend toward greater apocope (loss of final syllables). Additionally, more ChcE syllable onsets are placed before intervocalic consonants rather than within them (Fought 2003). These processes contribute to the relatively larger open syllable count in ChcE. More empirical research will have to be undertaken to describe these processes with greater precision. 4.4.

Suprasegmentals

While most of the features that we have presented in this chapter can be associated with the Mexican Spanish substrate, one feature of ChcE has its origins among Euro-American California English speakers. This is creaky voice, or laryngealization, a common phonation effect. In other dialects creaky voice is a paralinguistic

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marker that signals bored resignation. However, in her recent study, Fought offers tantalizing evidence that ChcE creaky voice, particular among Chicanas, must have other meanings as well (2003: 78). Finally, Fought mentions the use of palato-alveolar or alveolar clicks in ChcE. Clicks in AmE are egressive airstream stops used as suprasegmentals to signal scolding, disapproval, and other kinds of censure. Fought provides provocative evidence that this paralinguistic marker is far more frequent and signals a wider variety of meanings in ChcE than it does in most other AmE dialects (2003: 79–80).

5.

Conclusion

ChcE is a native variety of English that has been influenced by the Mexican Spanish substrate. Throughout this chapter we have indicated that the distinguishing features of ChcE are associated with the substrate, or the ELL interlanguage of Mexican Spanish-speaking immigrants. We believe its features originated as second language learning features that Euro-Americans made salient in the English/Spanish contact setting. The Chicano community somehow reworked some of these markers of stigma into the most distinctive elements of ChcE phonology, creating a set of linguistic variables and discourse markers (most of which still have yet to be documented) that affirm ethnic solidarity. Further empirical dialect contact research in these communities can develop both linguistic and sociolinguistic understandings of dynamic language and dialect contact settings. Well-crafted research has the potential to develop a richer understanding of the complex interaction of the full complement of prosodic, syntactic, and phonological variables that express nuanced Chicana and Chicano identities. In the sociological sphere, it can render precise the human processes by which ethnic communities reformulate linguistic features of out-group markers of stigma into in-group solidarity features. Chicano communities show no sign of giving up these largely unconscious markers of identity, family, and neighborhood — even when Chicano youth shift from Spanish to English. This reveals a lasting sense of belonging to their community and culture, and a keen awareness of their circumstances in U.S. society. As Fought and Mendoza-Denton bring to light, Chicanos and Chicanas use the ChcE linguistic variables in their daily life to express a counterhegemonic stance toward a nation that still does not fully embrace all of its citizens.

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Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Bayley, Robert 1994 Consonant cluster reduction in Tejano English. Language Variation and Change 6: 303–326. 1997 Variation in Tejano English: Evidence for variable lexical phonology. In: Bernstein, Nunnally and Sabino (eds.), 197–209. Finks, Leon 2003 Work and Community in the Nuevo New South: The Maya of Morganton. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. Fought, Carmen 1997 The English and Spanish of young adult Chicanos. Ph.D. dissertation, Department of Linguistics, University of Pennsylvania. 2002 Ethnicity. In: Chambers, Trudgill, and Schilling-Estes (eds.), 444–472. 2003 Chicano English in Context. Houndmills/New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Galindo, D. Leticia 1987 Linguistic influence and variation on the English of Chicano adolescents in Austin, Texas. Ph.D. dissertation, Department of Linguistics, University of Texas, Austin. García, Maryellen 1984 Parameters of the East Los Angeles speech community. In: Jacob OrnsteinGalicia (ed.), Form and Function in Chicano English, 85–98. Rowley, MA: Newbury House. Labov, William 1991 The three dialects of English. In: Eckert (ed.), 1-44. Matluck, Joseph 1952 La pronunciación del español en el valle de México. Nueva Revista de Filología Hispánica 6, 2: 109-120. Mendoza-Denton, Norma 1997 Chicana/Mexicana identity of linguistic variation: An ethnographic and sociolinguistic study of gang affiliation in an urban high school. Ph.D. dissertation, Department of Linguistics, Stanford University. 1999 Sociolinguistics and linguistic anthropology of U.S. Latinos. Annual Review of Anthropology 28: 375–395. 2002 Language and identity. In: Chambers, Trudgill, and Schilling-Estes (eds.), 475–499. Penfield, Joyce 1984 Prosodic patterns: Some hypotheses and findings from fieldwork. In: Jacob Ornstein-Galicia (ed.), Form and Function in Chicano English, 71–82. Rowley, MA: Newbury House. Penfield, Joyce and Jacob L. Ornstein-Galicia 1985 Chicano English: An Ethnic Contact Dialect. Amsterdam: John Benjamins.

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Santa Ana, Otto 1991 Phonetic simplification processes in the English of the barrio: A cross-generational sociolinguistic study of the Chicanos of Los Angeles. Ph.D. dissertation, Department of Linguistics, University of Pennsylvania. 1992 Chicano English evidence for the exponential hypothesis: A variable rule pervades lexical phonology. Language Variation and Change 4: 275–288. 1996 Sonority and syllable structure in Chicano English. Language Variation and Change 8: 63–90. Valdés, Guadalupe 1998 The world outside and inside schools: Language and immigrant children. Educational Researcher 27: 4–18. Valencia, Richard R. (ed.) 2002 Chicano School Failure and Success: Past, Present, and Future. 2nd edition. London and New York: Routledge Falmer. Veatch, Thomas 1991 English vowels: Their surface phonology and phonetic implementation in Vernacular Dialects. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Pennsylvania.

Bahamian English: phonology Becky Childs and Walt Wolfram

1.

Introduction

The Commonwealth of The Bahamas (henceforth The Bahamas) represents a unique geographic, demographic, and linguistic situation among the islands of the Caribbean and North Atlantic. The Bahamas consist of more than 700 islands and over 5,000 square miles of land mass, ranging from Grand Bahama to the north, located 60 miles off of the Florida coast, to Inagua to the south, located approximately 50 miles from Cuba and Haiti. The 30 inhabited islands contain almost 300,000 permanent residents, two-thirds of whom now live in the urban area of Nassau. The map in Figure 1 outlines The Bahamas in relation to the United States, Cuba, and Haiti.

Figure 1.

Map of the islands of the Bahamas

Although The Bahamas are often associated with the Caribbean Islands, in many respects they are more closely linked to North America than to the islands bounded by

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the Greater and Lesser Antilles. Furthermore, they have an important sociohistorical and sociolinguistic affinity with the US. Many of the Afro-Bahamians, who comprise 85 percent of the population, came from the Gullah-speaking areas of South Carolina and Georgia and many of the original Anglo-Bahamian settlers were British loyalists from North America who came to The Bahamas from the US after the Revolutionary War. Furthermore, there is regular off-island travel to the US by many Bahamians. There are a number of linguistic and sociolinguistic issues relating to this archipelago. One question concerns the significance of different founder English varieties that range from British and American English dialects to Gullah and other creoles in the African diaspora. Few Caribbean varieties have such a full range of potential English input dialects. Another matter is the past and present relationship between Afro-Bahamian and Anglo-Bahamian varieties. Although the black population has outnumbered the white population for several centuries, they have been socially and politically subordinate for the vast majority of that time. At the same time, there are a number of long-term mono-ethnic enclaves of Anglo-Bahamians in some of the outlying cays (pronounced as “keys”), raising issues about ethnolinguistic boundaries and accommodation. The demographic, sociohistorical, and sociolinguistic circumstances of the islands thus raise important questions about language norms and language ideology along with matters of linguistic description. In this account, we describe the phonological traits of Bahamian English, including the relationship between enclave Anglo-Bahamian speech communities in outlying regions and the dominant population of Afro-Bahamians. Although some of these issues are just beginning to be addressed, current research suggests that bilateral ethnolinguistic convergence and divergence are exhibited in both salient and subtle ways. To situate the linguistic description of some of the diagnostic features of Bahamian phonology, we first offer a brief historical overview of The Bahamas, followed by a description of some of the major vocalic, consonantal, and prosodic traits typical of black and white Bahamian speech. 2.

Sociohistorical background

The Bahamas have experienced several different waves of migration that affected their demographic and social ecology. The first known inhabitants of The Bahamas were the Lucayan Indians who migrated to The Bahamas from South America as early as 600 CE and inhabited the islands until the Spanish invasion at the end of the fifteenth century. The Spanish conquest brought about the destruction of the indigenous population through disease and enslavement, although the Spaniards left after a brief occupation. Their lasting imprint was the name Bahamas, derived from the Spanish words baja and mar, meaning ‘shallow sea’. In 1648 the first English settlers to The Bahamas came from Bermuda and established a colony on the island of Eleuthera. The so-called Eleutheran Adventurers were looking for religious freedom and hoping to establish a republican

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government in The Bahamas. However, the settlers realized that limited natural resources of the island placed them in danger of starvation. Many of the settlers left the island and returned to Bermuda though the settlement remained intact. During this time, the first colony, New Providence Island, was established on the site that is now the home of the Bahamian capital city of Nassau. This settlement, established also by Bermudians, grew much more quickly than the earlier settlement of Eleuthera and by 1671 boasted a population of 913 people (Dodge 1995). Though a proprietary government was adopted in 1670, it was unsuccessful and The Bahamas became a haven for pirates in the early 1700s. The geography of the islands was well situated for pirating hapless ships navigating the treacherous waters surrounding the islands. In 1718, the British sent Captain Woods Rogers to The Bahamas to drive the pirates from the islands and regain control for the British, and it was then turned into an official colony. After the American Revolutionary War in the 1780s, many British loyalists fled the newly formed United States for both the major islands and the out islands of The Bahamas. Two-thirds of the loyalists came to The Bahamas via boats leaving from New York, the other third from boats leaving from St. Augustine, Florida, although they represented loyalists from throughout the US. One contingent, for example, came from the Carolinas, moving first to Florida and then departing after a brief stay there (Wolfram and Sellers 1998). Most wealthy loyalists returned to England within ten years, but those too poor to return stayed and relied on the resources of the land and the sea to maintain a subsistence living. Many loyalists also brought slaves with them from the US in hopes of setting up a plantation colony similar to that found in the American South, but the hope for cotton plantations died quickly as settlers realized that the thin Bahamian soil would not support the crop. Approximately 5,000 to 8,000 loyalists in all came to The Bahamas in the years following the American Revolutionary War, making them a significant early group in the establishment of The Bahamas (Dodge 1995). With the passing of the Abolition of Slavery Act in Great Britain in 1833, the composition of the islands changed quickly. The population was growing rapidly and many Bahamians were again turning to the resources of the land and sea for their living. Various industries, for example, shipbuilding, sponging, fruit orchards, and sisal, have risen but none endured. Notwithstanding short-term economic surges, it was not until the 1950s that The Bahamas established long-term economic stability through the tourist industry. At the same time, politics was becoming an important part of Bahamian life, and by 1973 the Commonwealth of the Bahamas became independent and joined the Commonwealth of Nations even though it still retained Queen Elizabeth II as the head of state. Over the last three decades, Afro-Bahamians have gained control of civic life throughout the islands while Anglo-Bahamians have functioned on the periphery of mainstream modern Bahamian culture, living mostly on the outlying cays. Today The Bahamas are one of the world’s most popular tourist destinations. Residents of the major islands

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now earn a living performing more contemporary jobs common to most large cities along with the service industry related to tourism, while residents of the outislands have maintained more traditional jobs like fishing and boat building. The unique history, the demographics, and the past and present social dynamics of the islands have helped create and maintain distinct varieties of English.

3.

The phonology of Bahamian English

In this section, we describe some of the phonological features of Bahamian English. Although most Bahamians share some characteristic features, a number of structures are sensitive to ethnic, socioeconomic, and geographic factors. In addition, there is a basilectal-acrolectal continuum with respect to creole features that applies primarily to the Afro-Bahamian population; however, this dimension tends to be more relevant to the grammatical description of Bahamian English than to phonology. Our description is presented in terms of the major categories of vowels, consonants, and prosodic elements. 3.1.

Vowels

Many of the distinctive characteristics of the Caribbean Islands relate to the vowel system. In this respect, The Bahamas are no different. The constellation of vowel features unifies The Bahamas with Caribbean varieties of English but it also sets these islands apart in some significant respects, particularly in their affinity with some traits of Southern US English. In the following sections we consider some of these vowel characteristics, including the primary vowel system and diphthongs. In table 1 we provide a summary of the vowels of Bahamian English in terms of the key words set forth in Wells (1982). Separate profiles are provided for AfroBahamian and Anglo-Bahamian speakers given the ethnolinguistic distinctions described in the preceding description. Table 1. Vowel sounds in Bahamian English Key word

AngloBahamian

AfroBahamian

Key word

AngloBahamian

AfroBahamian

Key word

AngloBahamian

AfroBahamian

KIT







FLEECE

i8 ~ I8i

i

NEAR

e ~ i

e ~ i

DRESS





FACE

ei

i

SQUARE

e

e

TRAP

a~Q

a~Q

PALM





START





LOT

A

A

THOUGHT

ç

ç

NORTH

ç´

ç´

STRUT





GOAT

!u

!u

FORCE

o

o

FOOT





GOAL

!u

ou

CURE

u

u

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Table 1. (continued) Vowel sounds in Bahamian English Key word

AngloBahamian

AfroBahamian

Key word

AngloBahamian

AfroBahamian

Key word

AngloBahamian

AfroBahamian

BATH

a~æ

a~æ

GOOSE





happY







CLOTH

ç

ç

PRICE

i

ai~i

lettER





NURSE

~

~i

PRIZE

1 ~ ai

a˘

horsES





CHOICE

oi

çi

commA





MOUTH

aO~a

aç~ç

3.1.1. Front vowels Wells (1982) notes that the Bahamian /æ/ of TRAP occupies a more central position of [a] rather than a front position, but his description needs to be qualified in order to take into account generational and ethnic differences. In acoustic measurements of Bahamian vowels by Thomas (2001) and Childs, Reaser and Wolfram (2003), the production of the vowel in TRAP by both black and white speakers is shown to remain low and somewhat retracted. However, among older Anglo-Bahamian speakers, the vowel is raised before d in words like sad or plaid, occupying a position closer to [
]; this production is different from Afro-Bahamian speakers. The production of the vowel of TRAP by younger speakers in the white communities shows the vowel realized as [a] in all other environments. The lowered and backed trap production by the Afro-Bahamian speakers and the younger generation of Anglo-Bahamian residents is typical of many Caribbean varieties of English. The cross-generational analysis of different groups of Bahamians by Childs, Reaser and Wolfram (2003) indicates that Anglo-Bahamians are moving somewhat toward Afro-Bahamian norms. Both Afro-Bahamians and Anglo-Bahamians produce the vowel of FACE as [ei] (Wells 1982; Childs, Reaser and Wolfram 2003). This phonetic production is typical of varieties of North American English in general and AAVE (Thomas 2001) but different from white Southern speech in the US and most Southern British English varieties, which have a lowered and centralized nucleus for /e/. Thomas (2001: 106) reports that there is a merger of the vowels of NEAR and SQUARE in Bahamian English, making items like fear and fair or ear and air homophonous. In this respect, Bahamian English resembles the low country dialect of South Carolina, although a number of English dialects exist that exhibit this merger.

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3.1.2. Central vowels One of the diagnostic variants in The Bahamas is the mid-central vowel //. Both Afro-Bahamians and Anglo-Bahamians have a backed variant for the vowel of strut that is somewhat rounded and produced close to the cardinal position of [ç] (Wells 1982; Childs, Reaser and Wolfram 2003). This variant has been well documented in Caribbean creole varieties such as Jamaican English (Wells 1982), but it is quite scattered in the United States, though it is found in the Low Country of South Carolina and Georgia (Thomas 2001). This production is, however, not found at all in British Cockney, the British dialect most often compared to AngloBahamian English. The origin of this variant is difficult to determine given its rarity in some of the more obvious founder dialects of English in The Bahamas. 3.1.3. Back vowels The back vowels of GOOSE and COAT indicate a distinct ethnic difference in their phonetic production. Anglo-Bahamians have fronted productions of GOOSE and COAT while they remain backed for Afro-Bahamians. The fronting of back vowels is a widespread feature of white Southern American English varieties, although it is an expanding trait of other North American varieties as well (Thomas 2001). Even though /u/ in Anglo-Bahamian speech is not as fronted as the variant in Southern American English [y], it may front to [ø]. The source of back vowel fronting in Bahamian white speech may be the result of contact with earlier or present-day Southern American English, but it may also be the result of an independent phonetic development, following the principles of vowel shifting set forth in Labov (1994). The lack of fronting for back vowels in Afro-Bahamian speech replicates the ethnic distribution found in Southern speech in the US. For example, Gullah and general Southern AAVE do not exhibit back-vowel fronting (Thomas 2001), but white Southern speech does; this parallels the ethnolinguistic dichotomy in The Bahamas. The fronted /o/ of GOAT found among Anglo-Bahamians does not have a lowered nucleus like that typically found in Southern American varieties. The /o/ is, instead, realized as [!u]. For Afro-Bahamian speech /o/ remains back and upgliding, similar to African American English [ou]. This production is more like American English and less like varieties of Caribbean English, which are known for producing /o/ as a monophthong (Wells 1982). This ethnic differentiation no doubt reflects the differing founder effects, the sociohistorical development of The Bahamas, and the persistent maintenance of ethnolinguistic boundaries. Wells (1982) and Childs, Reaser and Wolfram (2003) report that the vowel of LOT is backed in both Anglo-Bahamian and Afro-Bahamian English; furthermore, the vowels of LOT and THOUGHT are not merged as is found in some varieties that have backed vowel in LOT (Thomas 2001). This pattern is quite different from the

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pattern throughout the rest of the Caribbean, which may exhibit a merger of LOT and TRAP. The pattern found in The Bahamas is much more similar to the pattern found in Southern white US speech, AAVE, and the Pamlico Sound area. Again, the presence of this variant in both black and white Bahamian speech provides important information about dialect accommodation in The Bahamas. 3.1.4. Diphthongs The diphthong of words like PRICE and PRIZE shows quite a bit of variability ethnically and generationally in the Bahamas. Older Anglo-Bahamian speakers show a backed nucleus much like that of the Pamlico Sound area of coastal North Carolina, as well as a number of dialect areas in Southern England and in the Southern Hemisphere; they also have a fairly strong offglide. Younger speakers tend to show a less backed nucleus and a weakened glide preceding voiced consonants, not unlike that found in Southern American English varieties. Childs, Reaser and Wolfram (2003) show that Afro-Bahamians exhibit a pattern comparable to that found in African American English in the US, with a fully glided offglide for price (preceding voiceless consonants) and a drastically reduced glide for prize (preceding voiced consonants). There is also less of a tendency to back the nucleus of /ai/ among Afro-Bahamian speakers. Some observers have mistakenly associated the diphthong of MOUTH in The Bahamas with Canadian raising. In Canadian raising the nucleus of the /au/ diphthong of MOUTH is raised before voiceless consonants so that out is realized as [t]; however, this type of raising is not found in Anglo-Bahamian or Afro-Bahamian speech. Instead, in Anglo-Bahamian speech /au/ is front-glided and produced as [a], while in Afro-Bahamian speech the diphthong is produced with a backing glide. Although the production of /au/ by the Afro-Bahamian population is fairly standard, the production of /au/ with a front glide by the Anglo-Bahamian population is a noteworthy departure from standard productions in The Bahamas and the US, though it is fairly typical of some coastal varieties on the Pamlico Sound area of North Carolina and the Chesapeake (Thomas 2001). 3.2.

Consonants

In this section, we consider some of the diagnostic characteristics of consonants; traits are discussed in terms of different processes affecting natural classes of sounds and phonotactics. 3.2.1. Interdental fricatives The stopping of voiced and voiceless interdental fricatives is one of the most stereotypical variables in English phonology, characterized by well-known icons

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such as dis, dat, and dem for this, that, and them. Studies of interdental fricatives in Bahamian varieties (Shilling 1978, 1980; Holm 1980; Wells 1982) show both similarities and differences with respect to the realization of the phonemes / / and / /. Afro-Bahamians show a clear preference for stopping for both voiced and voiceless interdentals in all positions, as in tank for thank, toot for tooth, dat for that, and smood for smooth. Stopping of interdentals is, of course, the Caribbean creole model and the norm for the US creole Gullah. In syllable-coda position, there is little labialization of / / as [f] and / / as [v], respectively, (e.g. [tuf] for ‘tooth’ or [briv] for ‘breathe’) as found in African American Vernacular English (AAVE). In most respects, then, Afro-Bahamians are more likely to follow the creole norm of stopping than the North American AAVE model, in which stopping is favored in syllable-onset position and mostly restricted to [d] for / /. However, the levels of stopping in Afro-Bahamian speech do not appear to be as high as they are in other Afro-Caribbean varieties. Anglo-Bahamian speech is much more inclined to follow the widespread English norm, with some stopping for the voiced interdental / / and infrequent stopping of the voiceless phoneme / /. The stopping of voiceless interdentals serves as an important ethnolinguistic divide between Afro-Bahamian and Anglo-Bahamian speech, and quantitative studies of interdental fricatives in The Bahamas have revealed the significance of this disparity. At the same time, these studies have indicated some unpredictable results. Although it is not surprising to see a preference for the stopped variants among Afro-Bahamians, studies of outlying black and white speech communities in Abaco show that Anglo-Bahamians are more likely than their black cohorts to delete or assimilate initial stops. That is, white speakers are more likely to produce ‘at’s all for that’s all or an’nen for and then, although it is not a particularly frequent phonetic production for either group. 3.2.2. w/v alternation The alternation of /w/ and /v/ is a highly marked feature of Bahamian speech. While this feature is found in both black and white speech, it is especially prominent among Anglo-Bahamians. The historical background for this type of alternation, which can be found in scattered varieties of English throughout the world, suggests that v, or more phonetically specific, a labiodental approximant [5], may replace [w], creating items such as vatch for watch or vaste for waste. A w or labial approximant may also replace v, yielding wiolence for violence or wase for vase. Childs, Reaser and Wolfram (2003) find that w→v tends to be much more frequent than the converse, and that Anglo-Bahamian communities tend to have more alternation in both directions than Afro-Bahamians. Wells (1982: 58) suggests that the pattern for this alternation among the white Bahamians is “the phonemic merger of standard /v/ and /w/ into a single phoneme with the allophones [w] and [v] in complementary distribution. The [w] allophone occurs in initial position … but

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the [v] allophone elsewhere.” Although this pattern may be found in some white Bahamian communities, it does not appear to be representative of the majority of communities. Research on Abaco Island (Childs, Reaser and Wolfram 2003) in The Bahamas and with Bahamian transplants (the so-called Conchs) in the Florida Keys of the US (Huss and Werner 1940) indicates that the [v] allophone can and does occur more frequently in initial position, though it also occurs elsewhere. Most descriptions of Bahamian English (Shilling 1978, 1980; Holm 1980; Childs, Reaser and Wolfram 2003) agree that it is a relatively salient trait associated with Bahamian speech vis-à-vis English-based Caribbean creoles and North American and British English varieties of English. There is some dispute as to the origin of this feature in Bahamian English. Holm (1980) suggests that the founder source for this phonological process appears to be African language contact, noting that Gullah and West African languages do not maintain a /w/-/v/ phonological contrast. For example, Gullah speakers use the approximant for both v and w. If this were the source of the alternation in Bahamian English, the use of this feature by the white population would have been the result of accommodation to the broader black Bahamian majority. An alternative explanation for this feature is the founder dialects of Anglo-Bahamians. Although w/v alternation is not a widespread feature of most contemporary British and American English varieties, it was fairly common in some earlier varieties of British English, including Cockney (Trudgill et al. 2003). Wolfram and Thomas (2002: 127) note that w/v alternation was also a characteristic of earlier Mid-Atlantic coastal speech in the US, so that it is possible that some loyalists from the Carolinas may have exhibited this trait. One of the strongest arguments for a primary Anglo source for w/v alternation comes from the fact that this trait is more prominent in Anglo-Bahamian communities than in cohort Afro-Bahamian communities. Both earlier (Huss and Werner 1940) and more recent (Childs, Reaser and Wolfram 2003) studies of Bahamian speech observe that w/v alternation is more widespread in Anglo-Bahamian than in Afro-Bahamian English. The African- and British-based explanations are not, however, mutually exclusive and it is quite possible that Gullah influence, transfer effects from West African languages, and English founder dialects converged in the development and maintenance of this trait as a distinctive feature of Bahamian English. 3.2.3. Syllable-onset h deletion The deletion of syllable-initial h in harm as ‘arm or hope as ‘ope is also a prominent feature of Bahamian speech showing regional, social, and ethnic variation in Bahamian English. Most studies (Wells 1982; Holm 1980; Childs, Reaser and Wolfram 2003) agree that it tends to be more prominent in the speech of AngloBahamians than it is in Afro-Bahamian speech, and that it correlates with social

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status differences and regional location as well. However, the social and ethnic differences tend to be a matter of relative frequency rather than the categorical presence or absence of so-called h-dropping. Childs, Reaser and Wolfram’s (2003) study of syllable onset h deletion on Abaco Island indicates that although both black and white Bahamian communities exhibit h deletion, members of the enclave Anglo-Bahamian communities drop h more frequently than their Afro-Bahamian cohorts, regardless of age. There are also linguistically based effects on the relative frequency of h deletion based on phonetic context: h deletion is most favored at the beginning of an utterance. It is also more favored when it follows a consonant rather than a vowel; that is, speakers are more likely to say bees’ ‘ive for bees’ hive than bee ‘ive for bee hive. The favoring effect in terms of the canonical shape of sequences is natural in terms of a universal preference for the preservation of CV sequences as opposed to VV sequences. As with w/v alternation, British Cockney has sometimes been cited as a source of h deletion in Anglo-Bahamian English, although it is a relatively widespread and phonetically natural process that is found in many varieties of English (Trudgill 1999). The initial impetus for h dropping may have come from a British English founder effect but its maintenance certainly is reinforced by its apparent naturalness as a phonetic process. 3.2.4. h insertion The insertion of syllable-onset h in items such as heggs for eggs or hitch for itch is also found in Bahamian English. As with the loss of syllable-initial h, it is more characteristic of Anglo-Bahamian than Afro-Bahamian speech (Shilling 1980; Childs, Reaser and Wolfram 2003). In fact, an empirically based comparison of isolated Afro-Bahamian and Anglo-Bahamian communities in Abaco (Childs, Reaser and Wolfram 2003) indicates that h insertion is rarely found among speakers in the black community though it is relatively common in the cohort white community. The insertion of h is sensitive to ethnic and status distinctions, but it is fairly widely distributed among white Bahamians in different locales, including a transplant community that settled in Florida Keys (Huss and Werner 1940). It is also sensitive to phonetic environment so that it is more likely to occur in intervocalic sequences such my heldest ‘my eldest’ than when it follows a consonant as duck hegg’ ‘duck egg’, thus facilitating the retention of a natural CVC canonical sequence. It can be quite salient socially in some phonetic environments, such as utterance-initial position in a sentence like Heggs are good for ‘Eggs are good’. The phonological status of h insertion is elusive. At first glance, the occurrence of h insertion may seem like a type of hypercorrection related to the fact that variable h dropping as discussed above is a fairly prominent trait of Bahamian English. A number of cases of h insertion occur on items that have no historic h in English, for example, hitch for itch or even hup for up. This suggests that it may

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have arisen as a compensatory production by speakers unsure of the phonological status of initial h in words. However, it should be noted that hypercorrection tends to be related to social situations where speakers feel obliged to use more acrolectal forms, or situations calling for more “careful” speech (Labov 1966). Bahamians who insert h appear to do so in relatively casual conversations where there is no apparent obligation to speak “properly”. Although some lexical items may be more prone to h insertion than others (e.g. hage for age, honion for onion), we have found no consistent pattern defined strictly on a lexical basis. Instead, h insertion simply seems to be a phonetic option for word-initial vowels that co-exists with syllable-onset h dropping. In most cases, h dropping is much more frequent than h insertion but they clearly co-exist as traits of Bahamian English, showing both socially constrained and individually based variation. The existence of both h dropping and h insertion can result in some potential confusion of lexical items such as hear and ear or heel and eel, but in most cases there is little perceptual misinterpretation in actual conversation. 3.2.5. Consonant cluster reduction The reduction of stop-final syllable-coda consonant clusters such as west to wes’, find to fin’, and act to ac’ is a well-known process affecting a wide variety of English dialects. Whereas all dialects of English reduce clusters preconsonantly, as in west side to wes’ side or cold cuts to col’ cuts, in prevocalic position consonant cluster reduction (CCR) is quite sensitive to ethnic and language background. Wolfram, Childs and Torbert (2000) maintain, for example, that extensive prevocalic reduction can usually be traced to language contact situations involving transfer from a source language not having syllable-coda clusters. It is also a wellknown feature of creolized varieties of English, including creole languages of the Caribbean (Holm 1988/89; Patrick 1996) and North America (e.g. Gullah), as well as ethnic varieties exhibiting such substrate influence. Both Holm (1980) and Schilling (1978, 1980) note extensive consonant cluster reduction as a characteristic of both black and white Bahamian English varieties. The quantitative analysis of two outlying Bahamian communities in the Abaco region of The Bahamas, one exclusively Afro-Bahamian and one exclusively Anglo-Bahamian, suggests that there is an ethnolinguistic divide in the relative incidence of consonant cluster reduction. Afro-Bahamian communities tend to apply cluster reduction at much higher frequency levels than their Anglo-Bahamian cohorts. At the same time, Anglo residents in The Bahamas have higher levels of CCR than Anglo speakers in the US or in England. For example, Anglo-Bahamian speakers tend to reduce clusters more than vernacular-speaking white speakers in the Northern or Southern US, although their levels of reduction are not equal to those of their Afro-Bahamian cohorts (Wolfram and Schilling-Estes 1998). This pattern suggests that there has been some quantitatively based accommodation to

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the vernacular phonological norms of Black Bahamian speech by Anglo residents of The Bahamas. As with other dialects of English where consonant cluster reduction applies, it can affect both monomorphemic (e.g. guest to gues’; mist to mis’) and bimorphemic clusters (guessed to gues’ and missed to mis’), with CCR favored in monomorphemic clusters. For basilectal Afro-Bahamian speech, however, this pattern is confounded by the incidence of grammatically based unmarked tense (see Reaser and Torbert in this volume; Hackert 2004). That is, the lack of inflectional -ed suffixation may result from a grammatical difference in verb morphology as well as the phonological process of cluster reduction. The confluence of the grammatical process and the phonological process may thus have the effect of raising the overall incidence of past tense unmarking. It also makes it impossible to determine if a particular case of a past tense verb form (e.g. missed as miss’; guessed as guess’) results from the phonological or the grammatical process. This type of additive effect does not apply to Anglo-Bahamian speakers, who do not have grammatically based past tense unmarking and tend to have quite low levels of prevocalic CCR for bimorphemic clusters. 3.2.6. Postvocalic r The pronunciation of postvocalic /r/ in door, mother, and bird is quite variable, although most speakers exhibit r-lessness to some degree (Wells 1982). The speech of both black and white speakers tends to be non-rhotic, aligning with many dialects of England and with American English in the earlier Plantation South. The use of postvocalic /r/ in The Bahamas shows a pattern similar to that found for African American Vernacular English (Fasold and Wolfram 1970). Vocalization occurs in a word-final position when followed by a consonant (e.g. four cats) or vowel (e.g. four apples), with a following consonant favoring postvocalic r loss over a following vowel. Stressed nuclear r in bird or sir is more likely to be rhotic, with some ethnic division; black Bahamians are more likely to vocalize stressed nuclear r than their white counterparts. Finally, there is some intra-word intervocalic r loss as in ma’y for marry or Ca’ol for Carol. These cases of intervocalic, intra-word absence are not consistent and appear to be lexically based. Hackert (2004) notes that even though most Bahamian varieties are non-rhotic, some speakers now perceive r-full pronunciations as standard because of the influence of the American media. It may well be that this influence will eventually lead to a more rhotic variety, if this trend has not started already among some younger speakers. Afro-Bahamians also vocalize postvocalic l in items such as steal and well, as do AAVE speakers, but Anglo-Bahamians tend to use an alveolar or “light” l regardless of phonetic environment, setting them apart from varieties such as American English.

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3.2.7. Sibilants In syllable-coda and intervocalic position, voiced sibilants may be devoiced in Anglo-Bahamian English. Thus, items like buzz and booze may be produced with a final [s] and easy and lazy may be produced with a voiceless sibilants, as ea[s]y la[s]y, respectively, and measure and treasure may be produced as mea[]ure and tread[]ure, respectively. Although many varieties of English have partial devoicing of obstruents in syllable-coda position, the final sibilant in Bahamian English may be fully voiceless. Furthermore, this devoicing even may apply to segments that are followed by a voiced segment, as in hu[s]band for husband and bu[s]iness for business. Although this pattern is quite prominent for Anglo speakers, it is not as extensive among Afro-Bahamians. Older speakers in more remote areas of the islands may sometimes use [sr] for [ r] clusters, so that three and through may be pronounced as [sri] and [sru], respectively. However, this production is somewhat idiosyncratic; some speakers use it predominantly while others do not use it at all. 3.3.

Prosodic features

There have been few comprehensive studies of prosody in the Caribbean and North American islands and no detailed research on these features in Bahamian English. Wells (1982) describes the general prosodic characteristics of speech as sounding more syllable-timed than stress-timed. This applies to both Afro-Bahamian and Anglo-Bahamian speech, but it is also important to qualify this observation. Wells notes that the syllable–timing characteristics of Caribbean varieties, and more particularly, Bahamian English, are not like those of African second language learners and that syllable timing is not an absolute phenomenon. Bahamian English falls within a continuum of syllable timing in that it is more syllable-timed than British or American English varieties but not as consistent as varieties of English directly transferring syllable timing from a language with strict syllable timing, such as a native speaker of Spanish speaking heavily accented English. One of the most recognizable features of Bahamian English is the relative lack of reduction of vowels in unstressed syllables as in most varieties of American English. This trait contributes to the perception of Bahamian English as being stress-timed rather than syllable- timed. Afro-Bahamian speech appears to be somewhat more syllable-timed than Anglo-Bahamian speech, though they share this trait to some extent. There are also a couple of noteworthy characteristics of Bahamian English relating to sentence intonation. High rising terminal contours characterize Bahamian English affirmative sentences. In this regard, they appear to align with varieties as disparate as Australian and New Zealand English, as well as younger speakers in some areas of the US, but this intonation pattern seems to be a longstanding char-

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acteristic of Bahamian English, as it is with Caribbean English elsewhere (Wells 1982: 580). The intonational contours of Bahamian English tend to show a wider pitch range than varieties such as American English and British English, although it is difficult to measure these differences precisely. In addition, there also are some stress differences in the assignment of primary stress. For example, in some cases primary stress may occur on non-initial syllables rather than the first syllable, as in Cherokée for Cherokee or moráy for moray. Bahamian English still awaits extensive, detailed study of prosodic features, though it is clearly an essential part of the phonetic configuration of white and black Bahamian varieties. 3.4.

Conclusion

This description of Bahamian English illustrates the multi-faceted explanations necessary to understand the phonological structure of English in the Caribbean diaspora. Founder influences, language contact, ethnolinguistic accommodation, and independent innovation all seem to have played a role in the construction of Bahamian English. For example, we have seen that both British and American English varieties had some part in its formative development; furthermore, a consideration of both white and black founder effects must be considered in attributing sources of influence. In addition, we have seen that there is selective alignment with other varieties of English in the Caribbean diaspora. In understanding the development of Bahamian English, we need to consider both internal and external language contact situations, as we see manifestations of bilateral accommodation in the speech of Afro-Bahamians and Anglo-Bahamians along with influences from language varieties beyond The Bahamas. Some of this accommodation is salient but other types of accommodation can be quite subtle and must be ferreted out by examining quantitative details. The end product of differential influences and development in The Bahamas has resulted in the configuration of a unique constellation of structures that both unites and separates Bahamian English varieties from other varieties of English in the region and beyond. Finally, we must recognize the significance of language variation under the rubric of “Bahamian English”. Expanding research in different regions of The Bahamas that extend from the urban area of Nassau (Shilling 1978, 1980; Holm 1983; Hackert 2004) to the out islands of Abaco (Holm 1980; Childs, Reaser and Wolfram 2003; Reaser 2002) suggests that there is a range of variation based on ethnicity, status, geography, and language contact. All of these parameters must be factored into an authentic description of Bahamian English that is consistent with the past and present sociohistorical development of this sprawling archipelago.

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Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Childs, Becky, Jeffrey Reaser, and Walt Wolfram 2003 Defining ethnic varieties in The Bahamas: Phonological accommodation in black and white enclave communities. In: Aceto and Williams (eds.), 19-59. Dodge, Steve 1995 Abaco: A History of an Out Island and its Cays. Decatur, IL: White Sound Press. Fasold, Ralph W. and Walt Wolfram 1970 Some linguistic features of Negro Dialect. In: Fasold and Shuy (eds.), 41-86. Holm, John 1980 African features in white Bahamian speech. English World-Wide 1: 45-65. 1983 On the relationship of Gullah and Bahamian. American Speech 59: 303-318. Huss, Veronica and Evelyn Werner 1940 The Conchs of Riviera, Florida. Southern Folklore Quarterly 4: 141-51. Patrick, Peter L. 1996 The urbanization of Creole phonology: Variation and change in Jamaican. In: Guy, Rickford, Feagin and Schiffrin (eds.), 329-355. Reaser, Jeffrey 2002 Copula absence in Bahamian English: Evidence from ethnically contrastive enclaves in The Bahamas. In: Proceedings of the 14th Biennial Conference of the Society for Caribbean Linguistics. Shilling, Alison 1978 Some non-standard features of Bahamian dialect syntax. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Hawaii. 1980 Bahamian English: A non-continuum? In: Day (ed.), 133-146. Trudgill, Peter, Daniel Schreier, Daniel Long, and Jeff Williams 2003 On the reversibility of mergers: /w/, /v/ and evidence from lesser-known Englishes. Folia Linguistica Historica 24: 23-45. Wolfram, Walt, and Jason Sellers 1998 The North Carolina connection in Cherokee Sound. North Carolina Literary Review 7: 86-87. Wolfram, Walt, Becky Childs, and Benjamin Torbert 2000 Tracing English dialect history through consonant cluster reduction: Comparative evidence from isolated dialects. Southern Journal of Linguistics 24: 17-40.

Jamaican Creole and Jamaican English: phonology Hubert Devonish and Otelemate G. Harry

1.

Introduction

1.1.

The language situation

The popular perception within Jamaica of the Jamaican language situation is that it consists of two varieties. One is Jamaican Creole (JamC) popularly labelled ‘Patwa’ and the other Jamaican English (JamE). According to this view, the educated minority able to function in both varieties use the former in private, informal and predominantly oral interaction and the latter mainly in public, formal and written discourse. Viewed as a language situation with two varieties used in the complementary manner described, the Jamaican speech community is diglossic (Ferguson 1959), with JamC being the L variety and JamE the H. For most speakers in Jamaica, formal education and writing are the main sources of knowledge of the idealised JamE variety labelled ‘English’. On one hand, speakers, in their attempts to approximate the idealised norm of English, will, to varying degrees dependent in part on the extent of their formal education, fall short of their intended goal. On the other, speakers, in their approximations of JamC or Patwa, however, often fall short to varying degrees, mainly as a result of the intrusion of features which are associated with English. These linguistic features serve to distinguish between the Creole of educated bilinguals, on one hand, and uneducated near monolinguals on the other. As might be expected, the JamC speech of the former group tends to involve a greater degree of English interference than does the JamC of the latter. 1.2.

History of the language varieties

Historically, JamC phonology represents the output of speakers of West African languages modifying the phonological shape of words coming into their speech from varieties of 17th century British English (Cassidy and Le Page [1967] 1980: xxxvii–lxiv). Items of English origin make up the vast majority of the lexicon of JamC. Whatever the historical origins of JamC, however, its phonological system is now the native phonological system of the vast majority of language users in Jamaica. Shared lexical cognates, coupled with the historical dominance of English, produces a linguistic ideology which considers JamC to be a form, albeit deviant, of English. JamE in contemporary Jamaica bears the main characteristics of standard varieties of English such as Standard British English, standard varieties used

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in the USA, Canada, etc. It, however, has features, particularly in its phonology, which mark it as peculiarly Jamaican. For us, JamE is the idealised form of English usage targeted by the educated population of Jamaica. We propose that nearly all speakers of JamE, as the H language in the Jamaican diglossic situation, are native speakers of the L language, JamC. For them, JamE is a second language acquired mainly through formal education and writing, and is used for purposes of public and formal communication. JamC and JamE are, however, idealised forms of speech. Most actually occurring speech shows varying levels of interaction between each of these idealised systems. This interaction is systematic and rule governed. Against this background, speakers consider that the phonological relationship between the two varieties consists of correction rules applied to the phonological forms of JamC lexical items to produce their JamE equivalents. Against this background, what we shall attempt here is to describe the phonology of the linguistic abstraction that is JamC and of the other that is JamE. We shall, in addition, attempt to provide evidence for the existence of JamC to JamE conversion rules and identify and describe how these operate. By way of evidence from the intermediate varieties, we shall seek to prove that JamC to JamE conversion rules lie at the core of the relationship between the phonologies of the two idealised language varieties. These rules operate, we shall demonstrate, within a context of the need to achieve a balance. This involves on one side the drive for the systematic convergence between the varieties to facilitate speakers shifting between them. On the other side is the need to maintain the separation between the two language varieties since, by remaining distinct, the varieties could carry out complementary social functions. We shall refer to this process as differential convergence. 1.3.

Theoretical framework

One of the characteristics of diglossia is the existence of linguistic convergence. In situations involving the functional separation of language varieties, speakers tend to modify their linguistic systems such that there is a level of one-to-one correspondence between elements of the coexisting systems (Gumperz and Wilson 1971: 154–166). Where some aspect of the linguistic system of one language variety is more complex than the other, there are consequences for trying to achieve this one-to-one correspondence. Complexity may be defined in two ways. One system may make a greater number of distinctions than does another. Here, one consequence of convergence is that often the equivalent of a single form in a simple system may be two or more forms in a more complex system, one such form being common to both systems. Thus, in comparing the phonology of cognate lexical items of two language varieties, a form in the less complex system may be equivalent either to two or more cognate forms in a more complex one. The form in the more complex system will invariably predict its cognate in the less complex one, but not vice versa.

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We make the following prediction about the relationship between phonological systems in the conditions of linguistic convergence which exist between JamC and JamE. If the simpler system, Variety A, has feature X and the more complex one, Variety B, has both the features X and Y, the initial hypothesis for speakers familiar with Variety A is that X in Variety A is equivalent to Y in Variety B. They thus convert all Xs to Ys in their effort to use Variety B. Later, with more exposure to B, speakers of A will learn that sometimes X in their native variety is equivalent to X in the target variety and only sometimes to Y. For speakers to know the difference requires lexical specification of individual items. We make a second prediction about the relationship between the varieties in such conditions. Linguistic categories or variables often exist in pairs, e.g. the realisation of segments equivalent to JamE / / versus the realisation of segments equivalent to JamE / /, or the realisation of segments equivalent to JamC /ia/ versus those equivalent to JamC /ua/. Let us take the case of pairs of related linguistic variables, Variables 1 and 2, which, in Variety A have reflexes T and X respectively, and in Variety B, U and Y. We predict that in actual everyday usage of Variety A, only one of the two Variety A reflexes, e.g. T, will be consistently used. The other, X, will be used varying with Y, the variant associated with Variety B. Along similar lines, in the case of Variety B, only one of the two Variety B reflexes, this time Y, will be used consistently. The other, U, will vary with T, the form associated with Variety A. This is demonstrated in the table below. (1)

Idealised usage Variable 1

Actual speech

Variable 2

Variable 1

Variable 2

Variety A

T

X

T

X~Y

Variety B

U

Y

T~U

Y

The relationship between JamC and JamE presented in (1) represents a classic example of differential convergence.

2.

The vowel system

2.1.

Jamaican Creole

2.1.1. The main vowels JamC has twelve phonemic oral vowels. These are divided into five simple and seven complex vowels, as in (2) below:

Jamaican Creole and Jamaican English: phonology

(2)

Simple i e

Complex u o

a

453

ii ia, ai

uu aa

ua, au

The relationship between the simple vowels and their longer equivalents is primarily one of length rather than that of height or tenseness (Cassidy and Le Page 1980: xlv). Following Cassidy and Le Page, we represent phonetically long vowels by a double vowel, e.g. /ii/, /aa/ and /uu/ rather than the // symbol. The aim here is to avoid obscuring the connection between these double-vowel nuclei and the other complex syllabic nuclei consisting of sequences of non-identical vowels. Only two features, [back] and [high], are necessary to describe the vowel set. An analysis of the complex vowel set presented above shows that only the extreme vowels in the simple set, the high and the low, i.e. /i/, /a/ and /u/, combine to produce complex vowel phonemes. The combinations, as can be seen, are quite limited. The low vowel phoneme, /a/, neutral for the feature [back], combines either with itself in second position, or with a high counterpart, either the front vowel, /i/ or the back one, /u/. The high vowels either combine with themselves to produce long vowels, /ii/ and /uu/ respectively, or with the low vowel to produce the diphthongs /ia/ and /ua/. The system does not allow, within the same syllable nucleus, for the combination of vowels with different values for the feature, back, i.e. */ui/ or */iu/. Such sequences get realised by the first vowel functioning as a consonant, i.e. a semi-vowel. The complex vowels, /ia/, /ua/ and /au/, are represented by Cassidy and Le Page (1980: xxxix) as /ie/, /uo/ and /ou/ respectively. However, they describe /ie/ as a diphthong covering the range between [i] and [i], /uo/, the range between [uo] and [ua], /ou/, the range between [!u] and [u], and /ai/ the range between [i] and []. They also report that the simple vowel, /a/, covers the range between [a], [] and []. We agree with their phonetic observations, but use these observations to arrive at quite different conclusions about the underlying phonemic representation of JamC diphthongs. Given that [a] and/or [] are the common denominators in all of the four diphthongs and that both of these are allophones of the simple vowel, /a/, we conclude that it is this same /a/ which appears underlyingly as the low vowel in all diphthongs. (3) Phonetic realisations of JamC vowel phonemes

/i/

[
] ~ [i]

/e/ /a/

[ ] [a] ~ []

Test words

Gloss/Lexical sets

[f
t] ~ [fit] [api] [ds] ~ [ds] [tap] ~ [tp]

FIT happY DRESS TRAP

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/o/

[!] ~ [o]

/u/ /ii/ /aa/

[ ] ~ [u] [i] [a]

[lat] [kh!p] ~ [khop] [lta] [kama] [nors] [f t] ~ [fut] [phis] [bat] [khlat] [pham] [brad]

/uu/ /ia/

[u] [i] ~ [ie] ~ [ia]

/ua/

[uo] ~ [ua]

/ai/

[ai]

/au/

[a ] ~ [! ]

[nat] [that] ~ [stat] [lus] [fis] etc. [nir] etc. [kwir] ~ [skwir] etc. [uot] [fuos] [phrais] [tais] [ma t] etc.

LOT CUP lettER commA NURSE FOOT PIECE BATH CLOTH PALM BROAD (THOUGHT) NORTH START LOOSE FACE NEAR SQUARE GOAT FORCE PRICE CHOICE MOUTH

In our analysis, the phoneme /a/, when it shares a syllable nucleus with the high front vowel phoneme, /i/, is realised phonetically as the mid-front vowel, []. This gives rise to the phonetic realisation, [i], for the diphthong which we represent as /ia/. Along similar lines, /a/, when it shares a syllabic nucleus with the high back vowel /u/ is phonetically realised as the back vowel [o] in diphthongs /ua/ and /au/ producing the phonetic realisations [uo] and [ou]. 2.1.2. Nasal vowels As is normal in many language varieties, vowels in JamC are nasalized in the environment of nasal consonants. The examples below demonstrate this. (4) a. b. c. d. e. f.

/faam/ /muun/ /wan/ /som/ /im/ /dem/

[fa m] [mu n] [wa n] [so m] [
m] [d m]

‘farm’ ‘moon’ ‘one, the indefinite article’ ‘some’ ‘he, she, him, her’ ‘they, them, their’

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There is a phonological rule which applies to monosyllabic grammatical morphemes ending in a nasal consonant. This vowel may be deleted leaving only the nasalisation on the vowel to signal its underlying presence. Note that, in the case of /wan/, which has both a lexical meaning ‘one’, and that of the indefinite article, it is only the latter, as shown in (5) a. below, which allows for the optional deletion of the final nasal. (5) a. b. c. d.

[wa ] [so ] [
] [d ]

/wan/ /som/ /im/ /dem/

~ ~ ~ ~

[wa n] [so m] [1 m] [d m]

‘the indefinite article’ ‘some’ ‘he, she, him, her’ ‘they, them, their’

Distinct from nasal allophones of the vowel phonemes, there is a nasal vowel phoneme. This vowel is /a a / with the phonetic realisation of [a ]. It appears in a small number of quite regularly used words. In the examples below, we see a case of a contrast in identical environments, involving the first pair, and, in the second pair, a contrast in analogous environments. These contrasts establish the phonemic status of /a a / in relation the phonetically closest vowel phoneme, /aa/, independent of suprasegmental features, which remain constant in each member of the pairs below. (6) a.

/waan/ /wa a /

[wa n] [wa ]

‘warn’ ‘want’

b. /kaan/ /kja a /

[ka n] [kja ]

‘corn’ ‘can’t’

JamC syllables with /a a / as their nucleus tend to have an equivalent syllable in JamE cognates consisting of the vowel /aa/ or /çç/ and a post-vocalic /nt/ cluster. Even though /nt/ exists in the vast majority of JamC items with English /nt/ cognates, e.g. /plaant/ ‘plant’, /aant/ ‘haunt’, etc., a small group of items such as /wa a / ‘want’ and /kja a / ‘can’t’ appear in JamC minus the word final /nt/ cluster of the English cognate. It is this fact which creates the lexical contrast. 2.1.3. Underspecified vowels In words with an initial non-prominent syllable possessing a vowel in the environment /s/ _ Nasal Consonant, the vowel may predictably be either /i/ or /u/ depending on the phonological effects of the environment. In these words, the vowel is specified for the feature [high]. It is not, however, specified for the feature [back]. The reason is that the [back] feature, giving rise to /u/, in contrast to /i/, is predictable from the phonological environment. The [back] feature assigned to the vowel comes from the immediate environment. It may be assigned from the immediately following nasal when this is bilabial, i.e. /m/. The underspecified vowel derives its [back] feature here through the transfer of labiality, since back vowels in JamC are labial, i.e. produced with lip rounding. Otherwise, the back feature may be derived from the vowel of the immediately following syllable when such a vowel itself has

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the feature [back]. These items are all lexically specified as having an initial /sV/ sequence where V stands for the underspecified vowel, i.e. specified for [high] but not for [back] as demonstrated by the examples in the first two columns below. (7) Underlying rep. /sV»maal/ /sV»mel/ /sV»mit/ /sV»niak/ /sV»nuar/

With back feature [su»mal] [su»ml] ~ [si»ml] [si»mit] [si»nik] [su»nuor]

Vowel devoicing (optional) [su9»mal] ‘small’ [su9»ml] ~ [si»ml] ‘smell’ [si9»mit] ‘Smith’ [si9»nik] ‘snake’ [su9»nuor] ‘snore’

Cassidy and Le Page (1980: lxii) note that the initial syllables in examples such as those above may be produced as a syllabic [s`]. Meade (1995: 33) refers to Akers (1981) as making a similar observation. We would argue that this is a case of the underspecified vowel in the /sV/ sequence becoming optionally devoiced under the influence of the preceding voiceless fricative, producing phonetically [s] and a voiceless vowel, i.e. [si:] or [su9]. These forms are phonetically indistinguishable from the syllabic form, [s`] proposed by Cassidy and Le Page. [si:] and [su9] are merely optional forms of [s`] when the following consonant is a sonorant, as represented in the third column of the table. Where the following consonant is a voiceless stop, as in /sVp/, /sVt/ and /sVk/, [si:] and [su9] are the only possible manifestations of the underspecified vowel in an entirely voiceless environment. In such sequences, the underspecified vowel is obligatorily devoiced. 2.1.4. Vowel variation There is variation between /au/ and /ua/ in the following items in JamC. (8) a. /bual/ ~ /baul/ b. /ual/ ~ /aul/ c. /kual/ ~ /kaul/

‘bowl (noun)’ ‘old’ ‘cold’

This variation, however, seems restricted to these and perhaps one or two other lexical items. For some speakers, in particular educated bilinguals, the choice of the variant employing /au/ in these items is intended to signal an extreme or intensive meaning, i.e. /aul/ ‘extremely old’, /kaul/ ‘extremely cold’. This may be a result of the fact that the /au/ version is an unusual reflex for JamE /oo/. This deviation from the expected is interpreted to signal, at least for the bilinguals, a deeper and more extreme meaning than the regular JamC /ua/ reflex would signal. In the case of the attributives meaning ‘old’ and ‘cold’, the /au/ alternant is only possible when the item is used as a predicator. When performing an adjective type function within a noun phrase, the /au/ alternant is not possible in JamC. This is demonstrated in the following examples.

Jamaican Creole and Jamaican English: phonology

(9) a. b. c. d.

/di man ual ~ aul/ /di plias kual ~ kaul/ /dis ual ~ *aul man a kil mi/ /dis kual ~ *kaul plies a kil mi/

457

‘the man is old’ ‘the place is cold’ ‘this old man is killing me’ ‘this cold place is killing me’

The awareness of the possibilities of alternation between /ua/ ~ /au/ is high within the speech community, perhaps because of its lexical role. This is exploited for poetic effect by Bennett (1966: 126), in which she writes the JamC item for ‘roll’, which is normally /rual/, as ‘rowl’, intending a pronunciation /raul/, since it is used to rhyme in the poem with /faul/ ‘fowl’. In addition, there was the Dance Hall piece by Mr Vegas, ‘Heads High’, in which all the entire rhyme scheme was based on the conversion of /ua/ into /au/, e.g. /nua/ ‘no’ to /nau/, /shua/ ‘show’ to /shau/, etc. In JamC speech, the form /oo/ very often varies with /ua/. The former is the equivalent vowel in JamE. The equivalent JamE front vowel, /ee/, however, is not frequent as an intrusion into speech which, otherwise, is consistently JamC in its features. 2.1.5. Vowel assimilation across syllable boundary Sequences of /i/ across morpheme boundary produced in rapid speech usually participate in syllable amalgamation. When the two /i/ phonemes, as a result of syllable amalgamation across word boundary, appear in the same syllable, a long vowel, [i] is produced, phonetically identical to the [i] realisation of the vowel phoneme, /ii/. This supports our proposal to treat long vowels as being phonologically a sequence of two identical vowels. Examples are presented in (10) below. (10) a. /si + it/ → [sit] see it ‘See it’ b. /im + a + luk + fi + it/ → [i m a luk fit] he/she is look for it ‘He/She is looking for it’ We have posited that the most complex syllable nucleus involves a VV sequence, i.e. either a long vowel or a diphthong. This is demonstrated by syllable amalgamation across morpheme boundaries involving V and VV sequences as in the example below. There, we see an underlying sequence of V+VV, i.e. /u + aa/, becoming C+VV, /w + aa/, with the C being the semi-vowel, /w/, carrying the feature [back] previously associated with the underlying /u/ vowel. A VVV syllable is avoided by the device or converting the vowel /u/ to the corresponding semi-vowel, /w/, i.e. making it function as a feature superimposed on a preceding consonant rather than a vowel. (11)

/u + aan/ go on

→

[wan] ‘Go on’

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The rule which triggers syllable amalgamation across a amorpheme boundary also applies to sequences of /u + i/. This demonstrates another aspect of our basic vowel analysis. We already noted that the sequence */ui/ is not possible within the same syllable nucleus. In the example below, when /u + i/ merge to produce a single syllable, adjustments there need to be made. In order to eliminate the tautosyllabic */ui/ sequence, the [back] feature borne by /u/ is shifted into a consonantal position in the onset, producing the semi-vowel /w/. This shift of the [back] feature to a consonant slot leaves the complex syllable nucleus with an unfilled vowel slot. This is filled by a spread of the values of the [back] and [high] features from the remaining vowel in the nucleus, producing a tautosyllabic [w + i] sequence as in the examples below. (12) a. b.

/ju + neva + du + it/ → you not do it /a + wa + du + im/ → is what do him

[ju neva dWi˘t] ‘You had not done it’ [a wa dWi˘m] ‘What is the matter with him?’

This establishes what we have already proposed, that vowels with the features [high] and [back] cannot co-occur in the same syllable nucleus. Thus, the amalgamated syllable has been modified to accommodate the principle that high vowels occurring in the same syllable have to agree for the feature [back]. In our discussion of JamC syllable structure, we shall see that vocalic sequences [ui] and [iu] only occur provided the initial vowel in the sequence occupies a C-slot, i.e. functions as a semi-vowel. Some syllables with the double vowel, /ii/, are the product of lexical specification with the vowel /ii/, e.g. an item like /tiit/ ‘teeth’, while others are derived from syllable amalgamation across word boundary, e.g. /siit/ < /si it/ ‘see it’ and /dwiit/ from /du it/ ‘do’. Irrespective of their derivation, however, these double vowel sequences are treated within the phonological system of JamC as identical. This is demonstrated by the rhyme below. The nucleus /ii/ produced by lexical specification in /tiit/ participates in a rhyme with two syllables, /siit/ and /dwiit/, whose vowel /ii/ is the product of syllable amalgamation. (13)

Skin ju tiit An mek mi siit Mek mi nuo fram ju baan se ju neva dwiit

‘Show your teeth [smile]’ ‘And make me see it’ ‘Let me know from the time you were born you have never done it.’ (Mr Vegas, ‘Heads High’)

2.1.6. Distribution of vowels There is a difference in the distribution of vowels across prominent as opposed to non-prominent syllables. In prominent syllables, any vowel can appear in word-

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final position. By contrast, in non-prominent open syllables, /ii/, /ia/, /uu/, /ua/ and /aa/ are blocked from occurring word finally. This reduces the range of vowel contrasts in such syllables to the three simple vowels, /i/, /a/ and /u/, and to the diphthongs /ai/ and /au/. This distribution is well illustrated by the reduplicated items shown below. When the vowel in the non-final syllable is made up of complex nuclei, /ii/ or /uu/, the one in the final syllable will take the form of /i/ and /u/. Where the non-final syllable has either /ai/ or /au/ as its nucleus, these are maintained in the final syllable. (14) a. b. c. d.

/fii-fi/ /duu-du/ /pai-pai/ /pau-pau/

‘toy whistle’ ‘faeces’ ‘pistol’ ‘nickname derived from the first syllable of “Powell”’

Where the complex vowel is /ia/ or /ua/, the reduced version is /e/ and /o/. With the simple version of the syllable appearing in second position in these reduplicated items, there is need to express on a single vowel segment both the feature High and the absence of High. This is done by way of the phonetically mid-vowels, /e/ and /o/, respectively. These are results which would be predicted from the analysis of the JamC phonological system, as seen in the examples below. (15) a. b. c. 2.2.

/sua-so/ /tua-to/ /dua-do/

‘alone, by itself’ ‘a kind of small cake’ ‘dough, bread, dumpling’

Jamaican English

2.2.1. The main vowels Below, we present our proposals for the vowel system of JamE. (16)

Simple i e a

Complex u o ç

ii ee

uu oo çç

aa çi ai

au

We propose here that JamE has 15 vowels. These are made up of six simple vowels. The three features necessary to describe these involve (i) high, covering /i/ and /u/, (ii) back, covering /u/, /o/ and /ç/, and (iii) low, covering /a/ and /ç/.

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Redundantly, every vowel with the feature [back] also has the feature [labial]. There are nine complex vowels in JamE, six of these being double vowels. Each simple vowel has a complex counterpart in the form of a long or double version of itself, i.e. /ii/, /ee/, /aa/, /çç/, /oo/ and /uu/. This introduces length or doubling as a feature which is characteristic of JamE complex nuclei. The remaining three complex vowels are diphthongs, rising from a low or lower-mid vowel to a high vowel. The first vowel element is always one of the two Low vowels, either /a/ or /ç/. Wells (1973: 25) proposes that JamE has 16 vowels. His sixteenth vowel, /çç/, is treated by us as an allophone of /o/ when this vowel occurs before a tautosyllabic /r/. (17) Phonetic realisations of JamE vowel phonemes Test words /i/

[
]

/e/ /a/ /ç/ /o/

[] [a] ~ [å] [ç] [P] ~ [o] ~ [´˘]

/u/ /ii/ /aa/

[U] ~ [u] [i˘] [a˘]

/çç/

[ç˘]

/oo/

[o˘]

/uu/ /ee/

[u˘] [e˘]

/ai/ /çi/ /au/

[ai] [çi] [aU] ~ [PU]

[f
t] [hapi] [dZ®Es] [tS®ap] [lçt] [kHPp] ~ [kHop] [lEto] ~ [lEt´˘®] [kHçmo] [n´˘rs] [fUt] ~ [fut] [pHi˘s] [ba˘T] [pHa˘m] [sta˘®t] [b®ç˘d], [klç˘T] [n碮T] [brç˘d] [Tç˘t] [o˘t] [fo˘®s] [lu˘s] [fe˘s] etc. [ne˘®] etc. [skwe˘®] etc. [pH®ais] [tSçis] [maUt] ~ [mPUT]

FIT happY DRESS TRAP LOT CUP lettER commA NURSE FOOT PIECE BATH PALM START BROAD, CLOTH NORTH BROAD THOUGHT GOAT FORCE LOOSE FACE NEAR SQUARE PRICE CHOICE MOUTH

The length feature implicit in our vowel inventory does not match the approach of Meade (2001: 42) to JamE vowels. He suggests that the main phonetic fea-

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ture distinguishing between short vowels and long monophthongs was tenseness, with the short ones being lax and the long ones tense. This position, on the face of it, seems justified by the fact that, in JamE, much more so than in JamC, the non-low long vowels differ from their short equivalents not just in length but in height and tenseness. The long non-low vowels are always higher and tenser than their short equivalents. Whatever the merits of Meade’s approach for JamE, there is contradicting evidence. This involves the relationship between the third pair of vowels, /a/ and /aa/, in which no height or tense differences are involved. Length is the sole distinguishing feature here. Thus, if one is seeking to find a feature which distinguishes all short vowels in JamE from all long monophthongs, then tenseness versus laxness would not do the job but length would. It is on these grounds that we single out length as the primary distinction between these pairs, with relative height and tenseness being secondary, predictable features of the distinction in the case of the non-low vowels. This approach is much more economical than that of Meade (2001: 42) which proposes that tenseness is the primary feature for the non-low pairs of vowels, and length the primary one for the low pair. 2.2.2. Nasal vowels Vowels are phonetically nasalized in the environment of nasal consonants, for example, (18) a. b. c.

/fan/ /ne˘m/ /kçin/

[fa‚n] [ne‚˘] [kç‚In]

‘fan’ ‘name’ ‘coin’.

JamE does not allow the variable deletion of a nasal consonant, leaving nasalisation of the preceding vowel as the only evidence of its presence underlyingly. Thus, JamE [so‚m] ‘some’, unlike its JamC cognate, can never be realised as *[so‚] ‘some’. In addition, the attested role of phonemic vowel nasalization JamC is absent in JamE. In JamC, there are items lexically specified to have a nasalized vowel with no following nasal consonant. In JamE, no such items exist. Below are the JamE cognates of the JamC items with lexically specified nasalized vowels. As can be seen, they both occur in JamE with an /nt/ sequence in the coda. (19) a. b.

/wççnt/ [w炢nt] /kja‚ant/ ~ /ka‚ant/ [kja‚˘nt] ~ [ka‚˘nt]

‘want’ ‘can’t’

2.2.3. Underspecified vowels There are no underspecified vowels in the JamE of the type already noted for JamC. The result is that JamC words with such vowels have JamE cognates in which they are absent. This is demonstrated by the following examples.

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(20) Jamaican Creole /sV»maal/ [su maal] ~ [sumaal] /sV»mel/ [su»mEl] ~ /si»mEl/ /sV»mit/ [si»mit] /sV»niak/ [si»niek] /sV»nuar/ [si»nuor] /sV»kuul/ [su»ku˘l]

Jamaican English /smççl/ [smç˘l] /smel/ [smEl] /smiP/ [smIT] /sneek/ [sne˘k] /snoor/ [sno˘r] /skuul/ [sku˘l]

‘small’ ‘smell’ ‘Smith’ ‘snake’ ‘snore’ ‘school’

Assuming as we do a derivation based on the JamC lexical form, there would also be the cases like JamC /tap/ ‘stop’, /tik/ ‘stick’, which would first have an initial /sV/ syllable produced as part of the process of conversion to English. Only then could the deletion of the underspecified V take place. Our suggestion that at least some speakers do function from a JamC lexical input, applying conversion rules to these inputs, is supported by the example below involving two phonologically variant JamE forms for the word ‘cement’ and ‘suppose’. The vowels /i/ and /u/ in the JamC items /siment/ and /supuoz/ have a distribution which is typical of the JamC underspecified V. There is evidence that at least some speakers apply, in the case of these items, the regular deletion of underspecified Vs to the first vowel in the JamC item. This can be seen in the second variant of each of these words presented below. (21) Jamaican Creole /sVment/ ~ {/siment/?} /sVpuaz/ ~ {/supuaz/?}

Jamaican English /sment/ ~ /siment/ /spooz/ ~ /supooz/

‘cement’ ‘suppose’

Some speakers are aware of English norms in relation to the words ‘cement’ and ‘suppose’, in particular how the words are spelt in that language. This awareness is likely to cause them to treat the vowel of the first syllable in the presumed JamC inputs, /sVment/ and /sVpuaz/, as lexical exceptions. The JamC underspecified vowel, phonetically [i] or [u], should not be deleted to produce /sC/ consonant clusters in JamE. For speakers who do not have this as a lexically marked exception to their JamC to JamE conversion rule, the less socially acceptable JamE options, /sment/ and /spooz/, are produced. Speakers who do not apply the underspecified V deletion rule in these cases are likely in their JamC lexicon to have fully specified vowels for these items. This possibility is suggested by the questionmarked JamC representations in the examples above. 2.2.4. Vowel variation In JamE, the item /bool/ ‘bowl’, but not /oold/ ‘old’ and /koold/ ‘cold’ have the variant /au/ pronunciation we have already seen for the cognates in JamC. The JamE variant form is /baul/. Irvine (2004) refers to a much revised school text in which ‘bowl’ is listed as having the same vowel as ‘cow’, ‘towel’, ‘out’, ‘couch’

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and ‘round’. She suggests that this pronunciation has been or is in the process of being normalized by this particular text. As Irvine notes, speakers who pronounced the noun ‘bowl’ as /baul/ distinguish it from the verb ‘bowl’ by pronouncing the latter /bool/. The forms [uo] and [iE] are not part of the idealised phonological system of JamE. They nevertheless occur as variants respectively of the /oo/ and /ee/ variables. The idealised JamE variants are [o˘] and [e˘] respectively. The diphthongal variants are clearly the result of diachronic and/or synchronic convergence with JamC. In this matching pair of back and front long vowel variables, the convergence with JamC is not exercised evenly. Irvine (2004) examines the formal JamE speech of a group of persons who, as a result of deliberate selection based on their speech to represent Jamaica in a promotional role, can be considered to represent models of idealised JamE speech. She finds that, for the back variable, there is 11% use of the [uo] variant, by comparison to 89% [o˘]. However, the [i] variant for the front variable appears 24% of the time as compared with 76% for [e]. The JamC associated phone, [uo], is much less used and arguably a much more stigmatised JamC interference feature than is [iE]. By contrast, the frequency of the latter suggests that it is fairly well entrenched as a variant JamE vowel form. Significantly, the acceptability of the phone [iE] in JamE is concentrated in the environment before /r/, e.g. /beer/ > [biE®] ~ [be˘®] ‘beer, bear’, rather than elsewhere, e.g. /plee/ which would tend to have only [ple˘] as its phonetic realisation (A. Irvine, p.c.). The differential convergence at work here may be focussed in and confined to a specific phonological environment. 2.2.5. Vowel assimilation across syllables This feature, as described for JamC, is absent from JamE. Sequences such as /duu it/ ‘Do it’, /sii it/ ‘See it’, /oo ç˘n/, ‘Go on’, etc. tend not to become monosyllabic in JamE. They retain their bisyllabic identity. 2.3.

From Jamaican Creole to Jamaican English: The vowel system

The only difference between the vowel inventories of the two language varieties involves the vowel /ç/ which exists in JamE but not in JamC. There is, therefore, for most vowels, a one-to-one relationship between JamC and JamE variants in cognate lexical items. However, there are three JamC vowels for which there are two possible JamE reflexes. These all involve the JamE vowel /ç/, once as a simple vowel and twice as part of the complex vowels, /çç/ and /çi/. Below are presented the vowel variants or reflexes across the two language varieties.

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(22) Jamaican Creole /i/ /e/ /a/ /o/ /u/ /ii/ /ia/ /aa/ /ua/ /uu/ /ai/ /au/

= = = = = = = = = = = =

Jamaican English /i/ /e/ /a/, /ç/ /o/ /u/ /ii/ /ee/ /aa/, /çç/ /oo/ /uu/ /ai/, /çi/ /au/

We argue that JamE phonological outputs are based on JamC lexical specifications modified by established conversion rules. These rules, we propose, are based on stereotypical notions of the difference between the phonetic outputs of lexical entries in JamC versus the phonetic outputs of their cognates in JamE. The level of success achieved by speakers operating these rules firstly depends on whether the correspondences between JamC and JamE are one-to-one or one-to-many. In the cases of JamC /ia/ > JamE /ee/ and JamC /ua/ > /oo/, we are dealing with one-to-one correspondences. The application of the conversion rule is, therefore, straightforward. The problem is less a linguistic one than a psychological one. With what consistency are speakers actually able to apply these conversion rules? Bilingual speakers will look for ways to keep the language varieties apart while minimising the effort they put into doing so, giving rise to what we have called differential convergence between the varieties. We have already seen the evidence which suggests that speakers, in their use of JamE, employ more consistently the JamE variant, [oo], in the /ua/ ~ /oo/ variable than they do the JamE variant, [iE] in the /ia/ > /ee/ one. Here, speakers economise on their efforts to keep JamC and JamE apart, by avoiding JamC features more consistently in the former variable than in the latter. As we have already seen, also, this economy of effort may be most active in the environment immediately preceding /r/. Where two possible JamE reflexes exist for one JamC vowel, matters are more complex. Usually, one JamE reflex is identical phonetically to that in JamC. The other one, however, represents a phonetic form which does not exist in JamC. For any item, the JamE cognate might have a phonetic output identical to its JamC equivalent. On the other hand, the JamE cognate may take the phonetic form that does not exist in JamC. It is the second possibility which is most likely to attract the attention of a speaker relatively unfamiliar with JamE. This produces naïve conversions. Thus, in the variables involving JamE /a/ and /ç/ respectively, a naïve conversion would change all the JamC occurrences of /a/, /aa/ and /ai/ to JamE /ç/,

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/çç/ and /çi/. This approach presumes a one-to-one correspondence with JamC /a/ > JamE /ç/ and retains a feature characteristic of JamC: (i) the vowels of ‘tap’ and ‘top’ not distinguished, here realised as /tçp/, (ii) the vowels of ‘mass’ and ‘moss’ not distinguished, both realised as /mççs/, and (iii) the vowels of ‘tile’ and ‘toil’ not distinguished, both realised as /tçil/. This is typically discussed in the literature as hypercorrection and is one of the shibboleths of the speech community. It marks the speaker off as uneducated and unaware that the JamC > JamE conversion involves, based on lexical specification, either the form /a/, approximating phonetically to its JamC equivalent, or the form /ç/. For many speakers, the lexical marking is done using as a reference the way the words are spelt in English orthography.

3.

The consonant system

3.1.

Jamaican Creole

3.1.1. The consonants There are 21 phonemic consonants in JamC. These include the semi-vowels, /w/ [w] and /j/ [j], which are the phonetic vowels [i] and [u] functioning as consonants due to distributional constraints. The palatal stops /kj/ [c], /j/ [Ô] and /ny/ [¯] proposed by Cassidy and Le Page (1980) are not included in our inventory because we consider these phonetic palatals to be sequences of stops and the semi-vowels (cf. Devonish and Seiler 1991). (23)

m p b f v r w

n t d s z l j

˜ k  S

tS dZ

(h)

One feature little remarked on in the discussion of JamC consonant phonology over the years is the phonetics of the stop phonemes, /b/, /d/ and //. When these occur in the onset of a prominent syllable, they are phonetically realised as ingressive stops, [∫], [Î] and [µ]. In other environments, notably in the coda or in the onset of a non-prominent syllable, the egressive [b], [d] and [] allophones are employed. The distribution of these stops parallels that of the aspirated and

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unaspirated allophones of the voiceless stops, /p/, /t/ and /k/, with the aspirated allophones, [pH], [tH] and [kH] occurring in the onset of prominent syllables, and the unaspirated ones, [p], [t] and [k], elsewhere. Wells (1973: 12) suggests that /h/ occurs contrastively in the Western varieties of JamC, notably those of Manchester, St. Elizabeth and Westmoreland. This is supported by the intuitions of JamC speakers from the entire range of western parishes. For such speakers, /h/ would serve to distinguish between the following pairs. (24) a. b.

/an/ ‘and’ /iar/ ‘air’

/han/ ‘hand’ /hiar/ ‘hair’

Such contrasts do not exist in the Eastern varieties of JamC, inclusive of that of Kingston. It is not, however, that the phone [h] does not exist in these varieties. Rather, it is employed for a different phonological function. Thus, the items above would, in the eastern varieties, be realised variably as [an] ~ [han] ‘and, hand’ and [iE®] ~ [hiE®] ‘air, hair’. In items without a lexically specified onset consonant, [h] may variably appear as a marker of emphasis, as an ‘[h]emphatic’ /h/. The phone [h], in the eastern varieties is simply marks off emphatic onsetless word initial syllables from their non-emphatic counterparts. The consonant phoneme /N/ has an unusual distribution in being the only one which is restricted to occurring in the coda. 3.1.2. Palatal and labial-velar consonants The vowels /i/ and /u/ become the corresponding semi-vowels, /j/ and /w/, when they occupy a consonant position in the syllabic structure of lexical items. They occupy a position immediately preceding the vowel. Their presence in the onset, when preceded by velar and labial stops respectively, can produce phonetically palatal and labial-velar consonants whose role in the phonology of JamC has been the subject of some disagreement. Cassidy and Le Page (1980: xxxix) treat [c] and [Ô] as palatal consonant phonemes. By contrast, Devonish and Seiler (1991) treat them as consonant plus semivowel sequences, i.e. as combinations of /k/ or // and /j/. We opt for the latter analysis. Were they underlyingly palatal stops, one would expect that they would also occur in the coda, as do all the other oral stop consonants. The consonant and semi-vowel is consistent with what we have noted about the structure of the onset, i.e. that the semi-vowel must immediately precede the vowel. Below are minimal pairs or near minimal pairs demonstrating the contrast between /kj/ and /j/ on one hand, and /k/ and // on the other. (25)

/kjuu/ /kjap/

‘a quarter quart (of rum)’ ‘cap’

/kuul/ /kap/

‘cool’ ‘cop’

Jamaican Creole and Jamaican English: phonology

/kjaaf/ /jan / /jaad/

‘calf’ ‘gang’ ‘guard’

/kaaf/ /an/ /aad/

467

‘cough’ ‘gong’ ‘God’

Like the phonetic palatals, the labialized velars, [pW] and [bW], do not occur in syllable-final position and seem best dealt with as onset clusters consisting of stop consonant, /p/ or /b/, followed by the semi-vowel, /w/. The distribution is more restricted than the phonetic palatal stops, with [pW] and [bW] only normally occurring before the diphthong /ai/. Below are some minimal pairs illustrating the contrast between /pw/ and /bw/ on one hand, and /p/ and /b/ on the other. (26)

/bwai/ ‘boy’ /pwail/ ‘spoil’ /pwaint/ ‘point’

/bai/ /pail/ /paint/

‘buy’ ‘pile’ ‘pint’

3.1.3. Variation Wells (1973: 11) does point to the historical basis for the variation between /b/ and /v/. It does seem that /v/ is a relatively recent entrant into the phoneme inventory of JamC, imported with modern loan words from JamE. The result is that some older JamC forms with /b/ have a reflex in JamE with /v/. These forms allow for /v/ ~ /b/ variation in modern JamC. However, more recent loans with a JamE /v/ reflex only allow for /v/ in JamC. Forms with /b/ in JamE do not vary in JamC, always retaining /b/. (27)

/beks/ ~ /veks/ /neba/ ~ /neva/ /vuot/ /van/ /buat/

‘vexed’ ‘never’ ‘vote’ ‘van’ ‘boat’

3.1.4. Syllabic consonants In JamC, consonants normally occur only at the margins of the syllable, i.e. in the onset or in the coda. However, there are two consonants which appear as syllabic nuclei. They are both required to be preceded by an oral consonant. Syllabic consonants produce an alternative syllable structure as presented below. (28)

(C) C [Syllabic Nasal/Lateral] (C)

In relation to the syllabic nasals, the phonemic distinction between the nasal stops /m/, /n/ and /N/ in the onset and the coda is not maintained when nasals occur in the nucleus. There is simply a single syllabic nasal, /N`/. This appears as the bilabial or the alveolar, depending on the place of articulation of the immediately preceding

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consonant. There seems to be a rule blocking the occurrence of a velar consonant before a syllabic nasal as can be seen by example c. below. (29) Syllabic nasals a. /sompm`/ b. /miitn`/ c. */tuokn/ BUT /tuoken/

‘something’ ‘meeting’ ‘token’

There seems to be an element of complementarity with the syllabic consonants. The other syllabic consonant, /l/, is restricted to occurring preceded by a velar consonant. Syllabic /l/ appears phonetically as a velarised or dark phone, [¬`]. This has an impact on the selection of oral stops which may precede it. Oral alveolar and velar stops in syllable-initial position are normally contrastive. However, before a syllabic lateral, only velar consonants are allowed as in the examples below. (30) a. /niil/ b. /bakl/ c. /boNl/

[ni‚˘l] [bokl] [bo‚Nl]

‘needle’ ‘bottle’ ‘bundle’

3.1.5. Constraints on the onset: /j/ and /w/ The composition of the onset may be constrained by the nature of the vowel(s) occupying the nucleus. We saw previously in the section on JamC vowels that vocalic sequences /ui/ and /iu/ do not occur. Put another way, however, phonetic [iu] and [ui] sequences are only possible provided the initial vowel in the sequence occupies a C-slot, i.e. functions as the semi-vowels /w/ and /j/ respectively. These produce the phoneme sequences /wi/ and /ju/. This is demonstrated in the following examples. (31) a. b. c. d. e.

/kjuu/ /mjuuzik/ /pjaa-pjaa/ /kwiel/ /swimz/

[kju˘] [mju˘zik] [pja˘pja˘] [kwiEl] [swimz]

‘a quarter quart (of rum)’ ‘music’ ‘weak’ ‘to cause to wilt’ ‘shrimp’

There is an uneasy relationship between /j/ and /w/ on one hand and their vocalic equivalents, /i/ and /u/, on the other. The occurrence of semi-vowels in the onset is subject to a constraint which follows from their relationship with vocalic segments. Underlyingly, syllable onsets tend not to consist of a semi-vowel as the sole consonant, followed immediately by the vowel which is its vocalic equivalent. This blocks underlying sequences such as */ji/ and */wu/. Where [ji] and [wu] sequences do occur phonetically, it is in variation with a form without the initial semi-vowel, e.g. [unu] ~ [wunu] ‘you (plural)’, [jimba] ~ [imba] ‘a yam variety’ (Cassidy and Le Page 1980: 225, 457).

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In JamC, the onset may have a maximum of two consonants. In such combinations, the first item is always an obstruent and the second an approximant. Combinations with /w/ as the second consonant are /pw, bw, tw, dw, kw, w, sw/. Those involving /j/ include /pj, bj, tj, dj, kj, j, fj, vj, sj, mj, nj/. Of these, /tj/, /dj/ and /sj/ do not have transparent realisations at the surface level. The matching phonetic forms, *[tj], *[dj] and *[sj] are blocked, in spite of a contrary suggestion by Wells (1973: 21). They may be blocked because the underlying phoneme sequences /tj/ /dj/ and /sj/ have their surface phonetic manifestations merged by speakers with those of the affricate and fricative consonant phonemes, /tS/, /dZ/ and /S/. Both sets of sequences become realised phonetically as [tS], [dZ] and [S] respectively. The fact is, however, that the consonants /tS/, /dZ/ and /S/ also occur in the coda, e.g. /matS/ ‘match’, /dZodZ/ ‘judge’, /kjaS/ ‘cash’. This establishes that [tS], [dZ] and [S] can and do represent the consonant phonemes /tS/, /dZ/ and /S/ rather than just underlying /tj/, /dj/ and /sj/. We suggest nevertheless that in the onset, speakers do treat [tS], [dZ] and [S] as representing a merger at the phonetic level between [tS], [dZ] and [S], on one hand, and /tj/, /dj/ and /sj/ on the other. The only consonants occurring in the JamC onset which are blocked from occurring before /j/ are /l/, /r/, /z/, /S/, /tS/ and /dZ/. Given the position of /l/ and /r/ in the sonority hierarchy, we may regard them as sonorant consonants which, like /j/ and /w/, only occur in second position in the onset. An onset */zj/ cluster fails to occur because it cannot be phonetically reinterpreted. The expected form, */Z/, does not exist as a phoneme in JamC. The blocking of */Sj/, */tSj/ and */dZj/ are, we would suggest, the result of the unacceptability of the alternative /sjj/, /tjj/ and /djj/ underlying representation. These would require a */jj/ sequence. The analysis is presented below. (32)

/sj/ */zj/ */Sj/ = */sjj/ */tS/ = */tjj/ */dZ/ = */djj/ /tj/ /dj/

→ [S] ← → *[Z]

/S/

→ [tS] ← → [dZ] ←

/tS/ /dZ/

The apparent occurrence of /dj/ on the surface as in /djam/ ‘damn’ really involves a disyllabic sequence /dijam/, with prominence on the second syllable. 3.1.6. Constraints on the onset: /r/ and /l/ The other approximants possible in second position in the onset are /r/ and /l/. When the obstruent consonant occupying initial position in such combinations is a stop, it may be either a voiced or a voiceless consonant. However, when it is a

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fricative, it must be [-voice] and [+anterior], i.e. it must be either /f/ or /s/. The allowed onset clusters involving initial stops are /pr/, /br/, /pl/, /bl/, /tSr/, /dZr/, /kr/, /r/, /kl/, /l/. Those involving initial fricative consonants are /fr/, /fl/ and /sl/. (33) a. b. c. d.

/pria/ /briak/ /plia/ /klaat/

[prie] [briek] [plie] [klaat]

‘pray’ ‘brake’ ‘play’ ‘cloth’

Absent from the combinations listed above, though theoretically possible based on the cluster formation constraints mentioned, are /tr/, /dr/, /tl/, /dl/ and /sr/. This absence can be explained by a constraint which blocks onset clusters of consonants specified underlyingly for the features [anterior] and [coronal]. If, however, this constraint is interpreted to apply at the phonetic level instead, the way is open for the clusters involving initial phonetically alveopalatal affricates followed by [®], i.e. [tS®] and [dZ®], to be regarded by speakers as the surface output of underlying /tr/ and /dr/ clusters. This would produce a merger between the phonetic outputs of underlying /tr/ and /tSr/, and /dr/ and /dZr/. Members of each pair would be realised phonetically as [tS®] and [dZ®] respectively. We have already seen a fusing of /tj/ and /tS/ realised as [tS], and of /dj/ and /dZ/, realised as [dZ]. Where the phonetic realisations [tS®] and [dZ®] are interpreted as involving the phonetic realisation of an underlyingly /tjr/ and /djr/, this would violate the constraint on there being no more than two consonants in the onset. This explains the fact, observed by Wells (1973: 10) that “/tr, dr/ are not altogether consistently contrastive with /tS/ and /dZ/”. This he illustrates with some examples, e.g. the variation between [truu] ~ [tuu] ‘true’, the latter homophonous with [tuu] ‘chew’, and /draa/ ~ /daa/ ‘draw’, the latter homophonous with [daa] ‘jaw’. In each of the preceding pairs, the first form is based on an underlying /tr/ and /dr/ whereas the second is based on an adaptation of unacceptable underlying /tjr/ and /djr/ clusters. 3.1.7. Constraints on the coda: The distribution of /r/ In discussing the phonology of English-related language varieties, the issue of rhoticity is inevitably discussed. Post-vocalic syllable final /r/ occurs in items lexically specified to bear it. There is a constraint operating here, however. The immediately preceding segment in the nucleus in such cases has to be either /ia/, /ua/, /aa/ or /o/. (This distribution indicates that the preceding vowel segment must be /a/, whether this is linked to a V-slot as in the first three examples or to /o/, a vowel which we analyse elsewhere as consisting of a combination of the features associated with an /ia/ sequence, occupying, however, a single V slot.)

Jamaican Creole and Jamaican English: phonology

(34) a. b. c. d.

/faar/ /piar/ /fuar/ /bor-bor/

[fa] [pi] [fuo] [bobo]

471

‘far’ ‘pear’ ‘four’ ‘bur’

The phoneme /r/ is blocked from occurring after nuclei consisting of /a/, /ii/, /uu/, /ai/ and /au/. What these all lack, as opposed to /ia/, /ua/ and /o/ is the presence of an immediately preceding /a/, whether realised on the surface, as in the first three cases above, or underlyingly as in the last. JamC does not allow post-vocalic /r/ in the environment of a succeeding tautosyllabic consonant. 3.1.8. Constraints on the coda: The distribution of nasals Nasal consonants may not appear in the coda when the nucleus consists of the diphthong /au/. The sequences so blocked are presented below. (35) */aum/ */aun/ */au/ It should be noted that this constraint is restricted to /au/ and does not apply to nuclei consisting of any of the other diphthongs, long vowels or short vowels in the language. The constraining effect which /au/ has on nasals in the coda has as its closest approximation the constraint already discussed involving /r/ in the coda. In the latter, however, the constraint operates with any vowel which does not have /a/ as the second element in the nucleus, either at the surface level or underlyingly. In the former case, by contrast, the constraint is restricted to a single diphthong, /au/. Of the three blocked combinations, it is /aun/ which assumes great sociolinguistic significance in the Jamaica language situation. This is because it is the one combination amongst those blocked by this constraint which occurs in JamE. All cognates which in JamE may appear with an /aun/ sequence are realised in JamC with /o/. Given the consistent pattern by which the more conservative varieties adapt JamE /aun/ patterns to /o/ patterns, we may hypothesise that // is a velarised /n/, i.e. an /n/ with the velar feature of the vowel /u/ added to it. The source of the constraint on /aun/ in tautosyllabic sequences is, however, in a wider constraint which blocks /au/ from preceding any nasal, i.e. /m/, /n/ or //. 3.1.9. Constraints on the coda: Consonant clusters Like in onset clusters, a maximum of two consonants is allowed to occur in the coda. The coda clusters are much more robust than the onset clusters. Four types of bi-consonantal clusters are allowed in the coda.

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Type 1: Nasal + voiceless stop cluster Voiceless stops are allowed to precede nasals. Contrast between nasals is neutralized in this position. Only nasals having the same general place of articulation as the following stops are allowed to occur in this environment. Examples of Nasal + Stop clusters are given below. (36) a. b. c. d.

/tamp/ /sent/ /tik/ /pint/

‘stamp’ ‘cent’ ‘bedbug’ ‘pinch’

Type 2: Nasal + alveolar fricative In this type, the alveolar fricatives follow the nasals. Unlike in type 1, in type 2, contrast between nasals is maintained in pre-alveolar fricative position. Examples are presented below. (37) a. b. c. d.

/lims/ /mins/ /spaanz/ /aamz/

‘glimpse’ ‘mince’ ‘to span’ ‘alms-house’

Type 3: Voiceless stop + voiceless alveolar fricative In type 3, where voiceless stops occur as the first consonant in the cluster, the following alveolar fricative must be voiceless. This is a case of voicing harmony, as the data illustrates. (38) a. b. c.

/mats/ /saps/ /aaks/

‘maths’ ‘nerd’ ‘ask’

Type 4: Alveolar lateral + obstruents The fourth type of coda cluster involves a lateral preceding obstruents, as shown below. (39) a. b. c.

/elp/ /saalt/ /twelv/

‘help’ ‘salt’ ‘twelve’

3.1.10. The syllable structure: The vowel in the nucleus It is against the phonotactic constraints already discussed that we are able to summarise the range of possible syllable structures in JamC. This may be summarised as follows:

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(40) (C)(C) V (V)(C)(C) Some of the syllable types that can be derived from the structure above are exemplified in (41) below. (41) a. b. c. d. e. f. 3.2.

/a/ /iat/ /ruas/ /pat/ /blua/ /plaant/

[a] [iet] [ruos] [pat] [bluo] [plant]

V VVC CVVC CVC CCVV CCVVCC

‘locational preposition’ ‘eight’ ‘roast’ ‘pot’ ‘blow’ ‘plant’

Jamaican English

3.2.1. The consonants There are 24 consonants in the phonemic inventory of JamE, inclusive of the semivowels /w/ and /j/. The inventory below, adopted from Wells (1973: 26), shows the consonant phonemes of JamE. (42) Consonant phonemes of JamE p t k t b d  d m n  f v



r

l

w

j

s z

 

h

There are three consonant phonemes which exist in JamE but not in JamC. These are / /, / / and //. In JamE, by contrast with many varieties of JamC, /h/ is phonemic, appearing in this role in the same lexical items as it would in Standard British English. 3.2.2. Palatals and labial velars The distribution of palatals and labial velars in JamE is clearly influenced by the JamC-to-JamE conversion processes which many speakers carry out. One problem converting JamC lexical inputs into an acceptable JamE realisation is the fact that JamC /a/ may be realised as JamE /a/ or /ç/, depending on the lexical item. There is no way, taking the JamC phonological form, /pat/, of knowing whether the JamE form should be /pat/ ‘pat’ or /pçt/ ‘pot’. However, when JamC /a/ is part

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of a syllable with a palatal or labial velar stop onset, these invariably predict the correct JamE output. Let us first take the palatals. In JamE, /kj/ and /j/, phonetically palatal stops, [c] and [;], have a distribution in which they vary with each other before /a/ and /aa/ but not in other environments. Thus, the item ‘cap’ has two realisations in JamE, /kap/ and /kjap/, whereas the items ‘coo’ /kuu/ and ‘queue’, /kjuu/ show a /k/ versus /kj/ phonemic contrast. The JamE /kap/ ~ /kjap/ ‘cap’ variation reflects the fact that /kj/ is part of the lexical specification of cognate items in JamC, serving to distinguish it from /kap/ ‘cop’. With the JamE pronunciation of ‘cop’ being /kçp/, the use of /kj/ in /kjap/ has no distinctive functional value. It, however, represents a carry-over from JamC which, we argue, provides the lexical input that lies at the base of JamE phonetic output. In the examples below, the item with /kj/ or /j/ in the JamC item has /kj/ or /j/ as variant forms in JamE, followed by /a/. The items which have /k/ or // in the JamC item, require an invariant /k/ or // in the JamE cognate and /ç/ as the following vowel. The weight of the phonemic distinction, transferred from the consonant in JamC to the vowel in JamE, is still expressed redundantly in the form of a residual /kj/ variant in JamE. (43) Jamaican Creole /kjap/ /kap/ /kjaaf/ /kaaf/ /ja/ /a/ /jaad/ /aad/

Jamaican English /kap/ ~ /kjap/ /kçp/ /kaaf/ ~ /kjaaf/ /kççf/ /a/ ~ /ja/ /ç/ /aard/ ~ /jaard/ /ççd/

‘cap’ ‘cop’ ‘calf’ ‘cough’ ‘gang’ ‘gong’ ‘guard’ ‘God’

A very similar kind of situation applies with the labial velars, where again the presence of a semi-vowel linked feature predicts whether JamC /a/ is realised as JamE /a/ or /ç/. The difference is that there are environments in which palatals occur categorically, i.e. before vowels other than /a/ and /aa/. By contrast, labial velars only occur variably in JamE, before the diphthong /çi/. Its JamC reflex, /ai/, is the only environment in which they may occur in JamC. In JamE, it represents a redundant feature, the labialisation of /b/ in the environment of an /ai/ which has /çi/ as its JamE reflex. This represents independent support for the notion that the conversion process is from a JamC underlying input to JamE and not the other way around. Otherwise, we would have no way of understanding how a variable occurrence of /w/ in JamE can be converted into a categorical appearance of this form in the JamC cognates.

Jamaican Creole and Jamaican English: phonology

(44) Jamaican Creole /bwai/ /bai/ /pwail/ /pail/

Jamaican English /bçi/ ~ /bwçi/ /bai/ /spçil/ ~ /spwçil/ /pail/

475

‘boy’ ‘buy’ ‘spoil’ ‘pile’

3.2.3. Variation The pattern of differential use of variants across pairs of linguistically related variables exists in the area of consonants also. The voiceless dental fricative variant of the variable / / ~ /d/, and the voiced dental fricative variant of the variable / / ~ /d/, each idealised JamE fricative variant does not occur in JamE with the same frequency. As Irvine’s (2004) table 2 intimates, model speakers of JamE produce a mere 48% of the JamE fricative variant, / /, and 52% of the JamC linked stop variant, /d/. The JamC linked variant is therefore very present in JamE and in fact occurs more frequently than the English variant. This is quite different with the parallel variable, / / ~ /t/. Here, it is the JamE linked variant, [ ], which is in the ascendant, occurring in 88% of the occurrences of this variable. 3.2.4. Constraints on the onset: /j/ and /w/ The ambiguity in JamC in assigning [t] and [d] to either /tj/ and /dj/ or /t/ and /d/ manifests itself in the process of conversion into JamE. For some JamE speakers but not others, phonetic [tj] and [dj] clusters occur. For some of these speakers, these phonetic forms are the only ones allowed in certain environments. They also occur for such speakers in [tjuu] ‘chew’ and [djunjo] ‘junior’. Such speakers, in these environments, have [tj] and [dj] allophones for the phonemes, /t/ and /d/. A second group would employ [tj] and [dj] respectively in items such as [tjuuzde] ‘Tuesday’ and [djuu] ‘dew’ whilst using the phones [t] and [d] for [tuu] ‘chew’ and [dunjo] ‘junior’. Here, the [tj] and [dj] represent syllable initial phoneme sequences, /tj/ and /dj/ which contrast with [t] and [d] as phonetic manifestations of /tj/ and /dj/. Finally, there are speakers for whom [tj] and [dj] are not employed and for whom, in both sets of items, the only forms possible are [t] and [d]. The JamE system of such speakers is like that of JamC. In the case of /w/ in the onset, /pw/ and /bw/ vary with /p/ and /b/ in ‘oi’ and ‘oy’ words, e.g. /spwçil/ ~ /spçil/ ‘spoil’, /bwçi/ ~ /bçi/ ‘boy’. Even though the /pw/ and /bw/ clusters represent a carry-over from a JamC representation, the feature which is taken to diagnose use of JamE rather than JamC is /çi/. In this context, the JamC type /w/ occurs as a relatively unnoticed and redundant variant feature.

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3.2.5. Constraints on the coda: The distribution of /r/ JamE is generally rhotic. This can be seen in the examples below. (45) a. b. c.

/heer/ /boord/ /sçrt/

[he] ~ [h] [bod] ~ [bod] [sçt] ~ [sçt]

‘hair’ ‘board/bored’ ‘sort’

There is a degree of variability in the realisation of postvocalic /r/, usually in the environment of a following tautosyllabic consonant. As has been pointed out by Alison Irvine (p. c.), however, this inconsistency only occurs in relation to /r/ preceding another consonant in the coda, i.e. in relation to items b. and c. above but not a. 3.2.6. Constraints on the coda: The distribution of nasals Idealised JamE has /aun/ [aun] as the phoneme sequence in the pronunciation of words such as ‘brown’, ‘down’ and ‘town’. The JamC variant, [onN], is a highly stigmatised but frequently occurring variant in JamE. The stigma associated with [onN] is determined by the lexical item within which it appears. Thus, idealised JamE /dauntaun/ [dountoun] ‘downtown’ is very frequently produced as [doada= “priest”; bru=hda “male sibling”, bru?hda= “male member of a religious order”; fa=rma “one who farms”, fa?rma= (Fa?rme=r) surname; béeka “one who bakes”, be?eka= (Bàkér) surname. Sutcliffe (2003) also presents Guyanese data derived from Devonish (1989): práblem “problem”, pràblém “a mathematics problem”; sìngín “singing practice”, síngin “singing” (verb); wa?sha= “washing machine”, wa=sha? “one who washes”; rìidá “reader (text book)”, ríida “someone who reads.” Sutcliffe (2003) also discusses such suprasegmental features as lexical tone, downstepping, final cadence, final rise, high rise intonation, emphasis, and focus marking.

3.

Features of specific Eastern Caribbean Islands

3.1.

Turks and Caicos Islands

The following information is from Cutler (2003). The Turks and Caicos Islands (TCI) are a British dependency comprised of eight major islands and more than forty islets and cays forming the southeastern end of the Bahamas archipelago. The Turks Islands are Grand Turk (the capital) and Salt Cay. The Caicos Islands are West Caicos, Providenciales, North Caicos, Middle Caicos, East Caicos, and South Caicos. The population of the TCI in 2000 was 17,502 (U.S. Census Bureau). The official language of the TCI is English. Most of the population is concentrated on Providenciales (Provo) and Grand Turk. Approximately 90% of the population throughout the islands is black. The TCI have been under political and cultural influence from the United States during the 20th century (e.g. Grand Turk was home to two U.S. military bases from World War II until 1983). In the mid 1960s, when the salt industry closed, many Turks and Caicos Islanders sought employment in the Bahamas and the United States.

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The islands of the Bahamas and the Turks and Caicos were originally inhabited by Lucayan Indians. The Spanish deported the Lucayans to work in silver mines on Hispaniola in the early 16th century. The islands remained uninhabited until the late 1600s when Bermudian traders began sailing there to gather salt, which was exported to British colonies in North America. In 1676, Bermudians established the first settlement on Grand Turk. In 1799 the islands were placed under the jurisdiction of the Bahamas. Subsequently, the islands were annexed to Jamaica as one of its dependencies in 1873. When Jamaica gained its independence in 1962, people in the TCI voted to remain a colony and were placed once again under the governance of the Bahamas. When the Bahamas gained its independence in 1972, the TCI received its own governor. Today, the TCI is one of twelve so-called “Dependent Territories” with British colonial status. The Caicos Islands remained uninhabited from the 16th century until the arrival of the Loyalist refugees, mainly from the southern American colonies, in the 1780s following the American Revolutionary War. Many of the slaves brought to the Caicos Islands from Georgia and South Carolina may have spoken a creole language, either a Caribbean Creole or an early form of Gullah, an English Creole that had been established in coastal areas of South Carolina and Georgia between 1720 and 1750, or had some familiarity with the variety of English emerging in that region. Most of the Loyalists who had previously arrived in the Caicos Islands abandoned their plantations and departed for other destinations in the British West Indies by 1820 after cotton crops began to fail. In many cases, they left their slaves behind. Over the course of the 19th century and well into the 20th century, the remaining inhabitants in the Caicos Islands (virtually all descendants of American-born slaves) lived in relative isolation. The Caicos Islanders represent one of the few remaining unstudied “enclave” speech communities of persons descended from American-born slaves living outside the USA. The population of the Caicos Islands dropped to a low of 2,995 in 1970; it began increasing slowly over the next two decades to its present level of about 11,000 people. Cutler (2003) presents an overview of the variety of English spoken on Grand Turk, which is part of the Turks and Caicos Islands in the British West Indies. No prior linguistic research has been carried out in the Turks and Caicos Islands (see Aceto 2002a). Sometimes the Turks and Caicos islands are seen as part of the chain of islands associated with the Bahamas and thus considered part of the category designated as North American varieties of (restructured) English. Again, Aceto and Williams (2003) have included these islands in their presentation of Eastern Caribbean varieties because of their general proximity. Cutler concludes that Turks Island English is an intermediate variety that may have more in common with African American Vernacular English, Gullah, and Bermudan English than other West Indian varieties of English to the south. Regarding the phonology of Grand Turk, Cutler (2003) sees parallels between its system and that also heard in Bermudan English: the alternation of /Q/ and /E/, e.g.

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hat [hεt], ten [tQn], and the interchange of /w/ and /v/, as discussed above. Whites in Bermuda pronounce grass [grQs], but blacks favor the vowel [a]. Cutler states that Turks Islanders were similar in this regard in that they did use /Q/ in words where many other West Indians would use /a/. Perhaps this feature is due to influence from North American varieties of English. Further features of the English spoken on Grand Turk as listed by Cutler are: speakers have little or no monophthongization of diphthongs such as [aI]; they do not centralize the diphthong in words like oil to [aI] as is common in other parts of the West Indies like Jamaica; unlike other Caribbean varieties of English, speakers do not palatalize velar stops; and speakers do not have “h”-dropping or insertion as is common in varieties of Jamaican and Bahamian Cutler lists the following features of the vowel system of Grand Turk English. Words like if often sound like [f]. The mid front vowel /E/ in words like rest and Betty is lowered to [Q] i.e., [rQst] and [bQRI]. The second vowel in again is closer to [e] than [E], i.e., [´»gen]. The vowel in company and nothing is closest to the low front vowel [a], i.e., ['kampni] and ['natn]. The vowel in up is close to [ç]. Low mid back rounded vowels are slightly diphthongized before nasals as in gone [gçan] and haunted ['hçand]. The vowel in could is closer to a rounded one like [u]. Speakers in Grand Turk reveal the widespread use of [Q] in back and man where many other Caribbean varieties use [a] or [a˘]. However, there is considerable variation among speakers: Some use [Q] in master but [a] in after and can’t. The diphthong in words like go and boat is fronted, sounding closer to [öu]. The diphthong in about is closer to [ou]. English on Turks Island has no rhotic vowels. Words like birth are pronounced [baf] or [bf]. This feature contrasts with Bahamian English and Gullah, both of which have the diphthong [I] in words like first and skirt. In fact, Turks Islanders identified the [I] diphthong as a feature of Bahamian English. Cutler also describes the consonants of Grand Turk English. The definite article the is categorically pronounced [di], but some speakers vary between stops and interdental fricatives for other words. The same description applies to St. Eustatius Creole English as well (Aceto fc.). Voiceless initial dental fricatives are variably realized as affricates. The Turks Island pronunciation of thief does not involve a full stop as it does in Jamaica and other parts of the Caribbean (i.e. ([tif]). Instead Turks Islanders say [t if]. Medial dental fricatives are realized as labiodental fricatives, i.e., birthday [bfdeI], as they often are in African American Vernacular English. The so-called –ing suffix is most commonly realized as [In], e.g. [sINIn] as is common in many English vernaculars in the Caribbean as well as in North America and Great Britain. In some words, the nasal is syllabified, e.g. meeting [mitn@]. Initial /v/ and /w/ merge into a voiced bilabial approximant, e.g. well [Al], vex [Aks] (see discussion above). Syllable final /t/ and /k/ are preceded by or replaced by glottal stops, e.g. that [dæt]. Other speakers do not have complete closure on final stops. Turks Islanders variably apply flapping to medial alveolar stops, e.g. Betty [bQRI].

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Cutler presents some discussion of syllable structure in Turks Island English as well. Consonant clusters are reduced in morpheme final consonant clusters of the same voicing, e.g. last [las], stricter [strIk]. Medial consonants are elided in specific words, e.g. little [lIl]. Turks Island English is non-rhotic (see discussion above), e.g. Turks Island [taksailn]. In some cases, vowels that may have been combined with [r] historically are slightly diphthongized, e.g. Lord’s [lçadz]. 3.2.

Virgin Islands

The US Virgin Islands are comprised of St. Thomas, St. Croix, and St. John; The British Virgin Islands are Tortola, Virgin Gorda, Anegada, and Jost Van Dyke. The following sociohistorical information is from Holm (1989: 455). The Dutch occupied Tortola in 1648; the British claimed it in 1672. English varieties have been spoken on the British Vrigin Islands beginning with this contact. In 1672, the Danes occupied St. Thomas but allowed Dutch and British colonists to settle there as well. The Dutch comprised nearly half of the European-derived population of St. Thomas, and among the majority African and African-descended population, a Dutch-derived creole began to emerge as did an English-derived creole as well. St. John was settled from St. Thomas; St. Croix was purchased by the Danes from the French in 1733. Danish seems to have been reserved for administration and within Danish social groups; English varieties, both creolized and otherwise, began displacing the Dutch-derived creole as more English-speaking settlers arrived. After abolition in 1848, as ex-slaves moved from plantations (which were centers for Dutch Creole speakers) to the towns, the influence of English language varities became even stronger on these islands. Danish schools adopted English as the language of instruction in the 19th century. In 1917, the USA purchased St. Croix from Denmark. Dutch Creole is believed to be extinct on these islands. St. Thomas and St. John lack the off-glide found in tense vowels of metropolitan varieties, e.g. /e˘/ and /o˘/ as in /fe˘s/ face and /bo˘t / boat respectively (Holm 1989: 456). These two islands of the American Virgin Islands chain also display the alternation and merger of /w/ and /v/. St. Croix (the remaining island of the American Virgin Islands) and the chain in the British Virgin Islands (i.e. Tortola, Virgin Gorda, Anegada) may also contain this feature, but there has been little linguistic research in general on these islands (see Aceto 2002a; see Sabino, Diamond and Cockcroft 2003 for a treatment of plural marking in some of these same neglected locations). St. Thomas and St. John also reveal the use of /:/ in words like fierce and bare. Holm (1989: 456) believes this last feature may represent a local innovation. 3.3.

St. Eustatius

St. Eustatius is part of the Dutch Windward Islands, which also comprise Saba and St. Martin. English-derived vernaculars are spoken on all three islands (except

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for the French side of St. Martin). St. Eustatius has played a central though often unrecognized role in the European colonization and settlement of the West Indies. Le Page (1960: 30) states that “the Dutch islands of Curaçao and St. Eustatius became great slave depots for the Caribbean in the seventeenth century, supplying all other colonies there, including Jamaica, either legally or illegally.” In the 17th century, St. Eustatius was sought after by various European colonial interests due to its central location and proximity to other islands in the Eastern Caribbean. Williams (1983: 97) writes, “St. Eustatius was highly prized by the Dutch due to its proximity to St. Kitts and other British possessions.” Both French and English settlers began to arrive in 1625, and again in 1629, but soon left in both instances due to the lack of fresh water. In 1636, the Dutch established themselves on Statia. At first tobacco, coffee, and cotton were the dominant crops (with some salt gathering). These activities were later replaced, albeit limitedly, by sugar production. Amerindian slaves mostly from Guiana were shipped to work on the island, but they were soon replaced with African slaves by the middle of the 17th century. The island is relatively small and its drought-ridden climate eventually made it largely unsuitable for use as a significant plantation colony. French, Spanish and English colonists were already buying slaves at Statia by 1675 (Hartog 1976: 49). Keur and Keur (1960: 39) state, “[t]he main traffic was with St. Kitts, Barbados and St. Thomas.” In 1679, one transport of African 200250 slaves went directly to St. Eustatius. Until this event, slaves were generally supplied from Curaçao, the center of the Dutch West India Company slave trade during this period. In 1665, Statia contained 330 Europeans, including children, and somewhere between 800-1000 slaves. By 1689, Attema (1976: 16) states, “besides Dutch, there were also English, French, Germans, Scots, Irish and Koerlanders” living on the island. Hartog (1976: 29) suggests that Statia was always multilingual from it earliest colonialization, and that, because it was situated among other islands in the Caribbean being colonized by the British, “English soon became the common language of trade”. He explicitly states that “the Dutch customarily adopted the language of the colonized people, whereby Dutch remained as a sort of ruling language for the upper-ten. So the settlers on Curaçao began to speak Papiamento and those on St. Eustatius, Saba and St. Maarten spoke English.” Keur and Keur (1960: 43) report that “the Dutch language was gradually replaced by English, and by 1780 St. Eustatius had adopted and [sic] English pattern of life. The churches asked for bilingual preachers from the homeland. Continued relations with the USA after 1780 kept the English language alive on the islands [i.e. both St. Maarten and St. Eustatius] to the present day”. In the 18th century, Statia briefly found its niche in the West Indian economy as first a central slave trading depot in the 1720s, and later in the 1770s, when it became known as the shopping center of the West Indies where all manner of material goods (as well as slaves) could be purchased and exported. Statia emerged as

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a local slave-trading center by about 1721, just as Curaçao was losing this distinction. The St. Eustatius slave trade reached its peak in 1726 and then seemed to end abruptly by 1729. From this brief peak in Statian slave-trading, the island fell into a lull in general trade until the 1750s-1770s when it earned the names associated with great commerce listed below (e.g. Golden Rock, etc.), without ever reasserting its dominance in the slave trade again. In 1757, the slave markets in Suriname and Curaçao had reassumed their prominent roles in the distribution of slaves for the Dutch West Indies, while the free trading policy caused St. Eustatius (also known during this period as Money Mountain, Golden Rock, Diamond Rock, Emporium of the Caribbean) to become the commercial center of the Caribbean (Keur and Keur 1960: 40), especially regarding the sale and movement of sugar. Colonists, settlers, and ships of many origins navigating the Americas docked at St. Eustatius to purchase goods and still, to a limited extent, slaves. Ships originating from the so-called 13 colonies in what would eventually become the USA used the facilities on Statia in order to purchase goods and arms in fighting the subsequent American War of Independence. In 1774, as many as 20 American ships at a time could be found in Statia’s harbor. Thus, contact with varieties of English was intense on St. Eustatius during the latter half of the 18th century. Regarding the island’s role as a meeting place of goods and people during this era, Hartog (1976: 40) states, the number of ships annually anchored at Statia were between 1,800 and 2,700, with its peak reached in 1779 with 3,551 ships. In 1781 the British Navy, under the command of Admiral George Rodney, attacked the island, looted its warehouses, confiscated millions of dollars in goods, and expelled many of its merchants (especially Jews). In the years following the attack on Statia by Rodney and the British Navy, the free trade in slaves was forbidden in 1784. The Netherlands abolished the slave trade in 1814 and the importation of slaves from Africa to its islands in the Caribbean in 1821 (Attema 1976: 30). The French controlled the island again from 1795 to 1801. The English took over again for one year in 1801. The territory did not return to Dutch control until 1816. From the population peak of 8,124 persons in 1790, the number of Statia’s residents began to dwindle. The population of Statia has stabilized at approximately 2,000 persons today. Preliminary data from St. Eustatius (Aceto fc.) reveals a high incidence of interdental fricatives. Th-stopping is the general norm in the Caribbean, including in Statia, but the fricatives [T] and [D] are also heard to a significant degree in naturally occurring speech in informal contexts (i.e. playing poker or dominos, drinking in a bar). The social correlates for the distribution of interdental fricatives versus alveolar stops in this location have yet to be determined. Furthermore, Statian Creole English is primarily non-rhotic, though [r] is variably pronounced by speakers in some contexts.

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Anguilla

The following information is from Williams (2003). The English undertook the first permanent European settlement on the island in 1650. The sugar industry on Anguilla suffered throughout the 17th and 18th centuries due to drought and a lack of investment capital by local planters. Anguillian settlers owned small plots of land, and typically only a few slaves worked with them and their family members in the fields. Slavery did not become fully established on Anguilla until late in the 18th century, and even then, the ratio of slaves to whites and free coloreds never matched the proportions found in other Caribbean plantation economies. The 1750 population information for Anguilla shows 350 whites, 38 free coloreds, and 1,962 blacks. The census of 1830 reveals the following demographics: 200 whites, 399 free coloreds, and 2,600 blacks. The 1830s on Anguilla saw a period of prolonged droughts that destroyed food crops, animals, and caused human famine. After emancipation in 1838, a number of white colonists left the island to settle in North America and other parts of the Caribbean. The general distressed conditions of Anguillian life prompted some Anguillians to work as indentured laborers on the sugar plantations in St. Croix during the 1870s. The 1880 census of the island shows 202 whites and 3,017 free coloreds and blacks. The end of the 19th century brought Anguilla a devastating drought and corresponding famine. Until recently Anguilla was relatively isolated from other islands of the area. Phone service was not available on the island until the 1960s. Electricity was not brought to the far eastern end of the island, to the villages of Island Harbour, East End, and Mount Fortune until the 1980s. The most recent census of May 2001 reveals a population of 11,300 for Anguilla. Williams (2003) is the only source for linguistic features in Anguilla. His research focuses on the Webster dialect of Island Harbour, a white enclave dialect of English in the Eastern Caribbean. Non-Afro-American Anglo-Caribbean varieties, i.e. those English varieties spoken among the descendants of Irish, Scots, and English settlers, have largely been ignored within research paradigms except for the work of Williams (1985, 1987). These English-derived language varieties spoken largely by Euro-Caribbeans on the Bahamas, Saba, St. Barts, Bequia, the Cayman Islands, Barbados, and Anguilla may shed light on the Anglophone component heard by Africans and Afro-Caribbeans working alongside many of these European immigrants. Historically, these white indentured servants were often treated socially no differently than African slaves; some of them even joined African-derived Maroon communities. Williams (1987, 1988) uses the term Anglo-Caribbean English to designate the variety spoken by these speech communities. Williams’ research reveals some phonological features that are clearly derived from Scots or Scottish English sources. Unlike other dialects of English spoken in West Indian white enclave communities such as Cherokee Sound in the Bahamas, the Webster variety does not exhibit a significant degree of h- dropping. Williams

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correlates this pattern with the fact that there is no h-dropping in Scotland (Volume 1 of Wells 1982: 412). (However, the absence of h-dropping is a regional feature of the Eastern Caribbean in general.) Another feature associated with the Scottish component of this variety is that lexical items with vowels similar to mouth in metropolitan varieties are typically realized with the Scots pronunciation /u/. The Webster dialect is primarily non-rhotic, although [r] is variably pronounced in some contexts by some speakers, e.g. [gyanfa r] grandfather, [wamz] worms. The Webster dialect exhibits the /w/ and /v/ alternation (typically with the intermediate value of [A]) that is found in many of the English-derived languages of the Eastern Caribbean and beyond (see discussion above). The Webster dialect differs in this regard from the Bahamian white dialect of Cherokee Sound where only the use of v in place of w was recorded by Childs, Reaser, and Wolfram (2003). Th-stopping is a feature of the Webster dialect and other dialects of Anguilla, e.g. [diz] these, [doz] those, yet there are instances of interdental fricatives, e.g. [gyanfa r] grandfather. There is a degree of variation in the replacement of the fricatives with the corresponding stops, especially in careful speech. Williams (2003) states, “[c]ontext and the effect of vernacular language loyalty are the factors that affect whether pronunciation / / and / / will occur”. Similar factors are discussed in Aceto (fc.) for the St. Eustatius speech community and in Cutler (2003) for Turks Island English. The Webster dialect also exhibits a slight degree of palatalization of velar stops before non-back vowels, e.g. [gyIlz] girls, [kyarId] carriage but [gol] gold, [kolor] color. Other features include the intervocalic voicing of /f/, e.g. [nevuz] nephews, and the lenition of word-final /t/ and /d/ when preceded by another consonant, e.g. [gol] gold, [ain] ain’t. 3.5.

Montserrat

Part of the local folk history in Montserrat is that Irish or Irish English has influenced the variety of English that emerged there. However, in Volume 3 Wells (1982: 586, 1983) reports there is no linguistic justification for this claim, even though Irish Catholics from nearby St. Kitts did settle the island in the early 17th century and several place names and surnames reflect Irish influence. Montserrat English reveals short vowels in open syllables in segments that were long historically, e.g. tea [ti], play [ple], straw [stra]. However, in closed syllables there appears to be a contrast between long and short vowels, e.g. beat [bi˘t] vs. bit [bit], pool [pu˘l] vs. pull [pul]. In Volume 3, Wells (1982: 586) insists that this is not a difference in vowel quality but in length as presented above (however, two allophones of /o/ do reveal differences in quality, e.g. show [So] and cut [kç_t]). This issue of short vowels in open syllables in Montserrat English means that the short vowels of words like tea are linked phonemically with the /i/ of bit rather than the [i˘] of beat. Likewise, the [u] of two is linked with /u/ of put rather than

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the /u˘/ of boot. Furthermore, in closed syllables, Montserratians often reveal diphthongs for mid vowels reminiscent of those heard in Western Caribbean varieties like Jamaican, e.g. boat [buot] and bait [biet], but these diphthongs are not found in open syllables, e.g. bay [be], show [So]. Montserrat English is non-rhotic. Consequently, long vowels are found in open syllables (as well as closed ones) where historical /r/ was once present, e.g. star [sta˘], war [wa˘], start [sta˘t], farm [fa˘m]. Other words with long vowels that revealed /r/ historically resulted in the emergence of new diphthongs, e.g. near [nia] and four [fuo]. 3.6.

Barbuda

The following information is from Aceto (2002b). Barbuda lies 28 miles north of Antigua. As is common in the Leeward Islands, droughts are often prolonged. Amerindian sites on the island indicate that Arawaks lived on Barbuda until the 13th century. Carib Amerindians visited the island occasionally from (what would eventually be called) Dominica from the 13th century to the early European period. The first group of European colonists arrived from nearby St. Kitts in 1628; due to Carib attacks and poor soil, this first effort was soon abandoned. In 1632, colonists, again from St. Kitts, made another attempt to settle Barbuda; however, they were driven away again by Caribs. In 1681, Caribs from St. Vincent and Dominica raided a settlement of 20 Europeans on Barbuda in several hundred canoes, killing eight of the settlers. In 1668, James Winthorpe leased Barbuda and began the first period of private “ownership” of Barbuda by English speakers from Europe. Winthorpe eventually relinquished his lease, and in 1685 Christopher and John Codrington leased the island for the next 200 years. Thus, Barbuda became the private property of the Codrington family, who first settled in Barbados but were often absentee owners living in Somerset, England. The Codringtons’ goal was to use Barbuda as a means to create supplies for their plantations on nearby Antigua. Barbuda was not a “true colony” since it was the private property of the Codringtons. The presence of Europeans on the island during the colonial period varied from a single Anglophone to perhaps as high as three or four. Slaves lived virtually on their own except for a solitary (and often absent) Codrington manager and one or two overseers. The population of Barbuda has never been large. Even today it is only about 1,500 persons. In 1715, there were 118 persons on the island; in 1804, 314; and in 1832, 492. Barbudan Creole English (BCE) exhibits many of the same sound segments typical in the Anglophone Eastern Caribbean. However, there are contraction processes and reciprocal phonetic effects similar to vowel harmony rules that, to my knowledge, have not been described in the creolistics literature. That is, discrete

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grammatical markers may appear to be reduced or even disappear on the surface of some utterances. Some examples of the vowel harmony-like effects (in bold) are: [ya
a du dat tumaro] “Are you going to do that tomorrow?” and [mo
o du dat tumaro] “I’m going to do that tomorrow.” In isolation, the future marker is [go] and the first person singular pronoun is [mi]. Examples of contraction processes at play are (note that the forms within parentheses are a transitional stage assumed by this researcher; contracted forms are in bold): [Si a go siN (Si a ga siN ) ~ Si
aa siN] ”She is going to sing” (the [a] of the future tense marker a go influences the quality of the vowel in go) and [(mi go biit yu) ~ mo go biit yu ~ moo biit yu] “I’m going to hit you” (the [o] in go influences the quality of the earlier vowel in the pronoun mi). Some of the more robust contraction processes involve the co-occurrence of bilabial nasals when past tense utterances are spoken in the first person singular. That is, when the first person pronoun mi is immediately followed by [mIn], the past tense marker, the pronoun mi is often submerged or contracted within the past tense form: [mn de krai haad ~ mi mIn de krai haad] “I cried hard” and [mn da taak ~ mi mIn da (~ de + a) taak] “I was talking.” 3.7.

Windward Islands (Dominica, St. Lucia, St. Vincent and the Grenadines, Carriacou, and Grenada)

Though English restructured varieties are common on these islands today, they all share a joint Francophone/Anglophone history. That is, before the 19th century these islands were all once controlled by the French, and consequently, in most locations, there are speakers of earlier French-derived creoles that predate the emergence of later English-derived restructured varieties. Dominica has two Englishderived creoles that emerged in the 19th and 20th centuries: one is an intermediate variety that emerged locally and the other is a deep creole called Kokoy that is related to immigrants from Antigua and Montserrat who arrived to work on fruit plantations in the post-emancipation setting. Carriacou Creole English emerged largely in the late 18th and 19th centuries, according to Kephart (2003). St. Lucian Vernacular English, which Garrett (2003) insists is not a creole, emerged in the late 19th and 20th centuries in largely educational institutional contexts. There is not much linguistic information on English-derived varieties spoken on St. Vincent and the Grenadines as well as on Grenada, but these areas seem to be largely Anglophone today. Francophone varieties that were once spoken widely on these islands appear to be disappearing. In regards to phonology, none of the Anglophone Windward islands have been linguistically documented to any significant degree. In Dominica, Kokoy speakers exhibit voiceless labio-dental fricatives, i.e. [f], in onsets that correspond to voiceless interdental fricatives in metropolitan varieties, i.e. /T/ and /t/ in other Caribbean Englishes. For example, the words three and thing are often realized

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as /fri˘/ and /fIN/ respectively in this Creole language variety. St. Vincent and Grenada lack a contrast between by and boy. Both locations lack /´/, /√/, and the post-vocalic /r/ found in Bajan. Kephart (2003) offers a brief presentation of Carriacou phonology. Carriacou Creole English has a basic seven-vowel system, which marks it as quite different from other creoles, especially Jamaican. To find a similar system in the Caribbean we have to go to Dominica, which also contains an earlier variety of Creole French similar to that found in Carriacou. Kephart believes that, among the Atlantic English-derived Creoles, the Suriname creoles probably come closest to the Carriacou Creole English system. In both systems, the only tense/lax contrast is in the mid vowels. Another phonological feature that distinguishes this variety of Creole English is the presence of nasal vowels. These vowels occur in words that Carriacou Creole English shares with Carriacou Creole French, e.g. [sukuya‚] vampire, [tetshe‚] boa constrictor, [kç‚koSa‚] biased, [gwa‚gozhei] brown pelican. Kephart insists that speakers pronounce these words with the nasalization intact; that is, these nasalized vowels do not correspond to a vowel plus nasal consonant, even in word-final position.

4.

Conclusion

There are many polemical topics of great interest to creole studies (e.g. the nature of the creole continuum, the possible effects of decreolization, possible loci of creole genesis and language diffusion, the structural features and historical processes shared by the group of languages called creoles by linguists, et al.) and most conclusions based upon English-derived data are largely drawn from Jamaican, Guyanese, and, most often, one of the several English-derived creoles of Suriname. This reductionist attitude is insufficient since the sociolinguistic profiles of many of the locations in the Anglophone Eastern Caribbean have never even been documented. Once we have documented the languages spoken in these neglected locales, only then, will researchers be able to accurately and precisely discuss – with an extensive set of attested data in hand – how these varieties fit into a larger linguistic and sociohistorical view of English-derived language genesis in the Caribbean and the Atlantic region in general.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM.

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Aceto, Michael 2002a Going back to the beginning: Describing the (nearly) undocumented Anglophone creoles of the Caribbean. In: Glenn G. Gilbert (ed.), Pidgin and Creole Linguistics in the 21st Century, 93–118. New York: Peter Lang. 2002b Barbudan Creole English: Its history and some grammatical features. English World-Wide 23: 223–250. fc. St. Eustatius Creole English: Why did an English-derived creole emerge in a Dutch colony? Attema, Y. 1976 St. Eustatius: A Short History of the Island and Its Monuments. De Walburg Pers Zutphen Holland. Baker Philip and Adrienne Bruyn (eds), 1998 St. Kitts and the Atlantic Creoles: The Texts of Samual Augustus Mathews in Perspective. (Westminster Creolistics Series 4). London: University of Westminster Press. Carter, Hazel 1987 Suprasegmentals in Guyanese: Some African comparisons. In: Gilbert (ed.), 213–263. Cassidy, Frederic G. 1980 The place of Gullah. American Speech 55: 3–15. Childs, Becky, Jeffrey Reaser and Walt Wolfram 2003 Defining ethnic varieties in the Bahamas: Phonological accommodation in black and white enclave communities. In: Aceto and Williams (eds.), 1–28. Cutler, Cecilia 2003 English in the Turks and Caicos Islands: A look at Grand Turk. In: Aceto and Williams (eds.), 51–80. Garrett, Paul B. 2003 An “English Creole” that isn’t: on the sociohistorical origins and linguistic classification of the vernacular English in St. Lucia. In: Aceto and Wiliams (eds.), 155–210. Hancock, Ian 1980 Gullah and Barbadian: Origins and relationships. American Speech 55: 17–35. Hartog, J. 1976 History of St. Eustatius. Aruba: De Wit. Kephart, Ronald 2003 Creole English on Carriacou: A sketch and some implications. In: Aceto and Williams (eds.), 227–240. Keur, John Y and Dorothy L. Keur 1960 Windward Children: A Study in the Human Ecology of the Three Dutch Windward Islands in the Caribbean. Assen: Royal Vangorcum. Le Page, Robert B 1960 An historical introduction to Jamaican Creole. In: Robert B. Le Page and David DeCamp (eds.), Jamaican Creole, 3–124. New York: Macmillan. Rickford, John R. 1992 The creole residue in Barbados. In: Joan H. Hall, Nick Doane and Dick Ringler (eds), Old English and New: Studies in Language and Linguistics in Honor of Frederic G. Cassidy, 183-201 New York: Garland Publishing.

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Sabino, Diamond and Cockcroft 2003 Language variety in the Virgin Islands: Plural markings. In: Aceto and Williams (eds.), 81–94. Sutcliffe, David 1982 British Black English. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. 1987 Phonological relationships in Caribbean and West African English. English World-Wide 8: 61–68. 2003 Eastern Caribbean suprasegmental systems: A comparative view, with particular reference to Barbadian, Trinidadian, and Guyanese. In: Aceto and Williams (eds.), 265–296. Van Herk, Gerard 2003 Barbadian lects: Beyond meso. In: Aceto and Williams (eds.), 241–264. Williams, Jeffrey P. 1983 Dutch and English creole on the windward Netherlands Antilles: An historical perspective. Amsterdam Creole Studies 5: 93–111. 1985 Preliminaries to the study of the dialects of white West Indian English. Nieuwe West-Indische Gids 59: 27–44. 1987 Anglo-Caribbean English: A study of its sociolinguistic history and the development of its aspectual markers. Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, The University of Texas at Austin. 1988 The development of aspectual markers in Anglo-Caribbean English. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 3: 245–263. 2003 The establishment and perpetuation of anglophone white enclave communities in the Eastern Caribbean: The case of Island Harbor, Anguilla. In: Aceto and Williams (eds.), 95–119.

Bajan: phonology Renée Blake

1.

Introduction

Barbados is a contemporary nation-state that won its independence from Britain in 1966. This island, the most easterly of the Caribbean countries, is 21 miles long by 14 miles wide and has an approximate population of a quarter million people. It is a densely populated country, with more than 1 500 persons per square mile in urban areas; and much less in the rural areas where the land is appropriated for tillage. Geopolitically, the island is divided into eleven parishes, with the capital, Bridgetown, located in the southwest parish of St. Michael. The remaining parishes are divided into subsidiary centers in terms of region (e.g., southern, etc.). The eastern side of the island has been relegated to national historical landmark status, thereby prohibiting industrial development and limiting tourism. While the official language of this country is English, the population also speaks an English-related Creole, Bajan, arising out of a particular language contact situation, slavery and bond servitude, under British colonization. As opposed to “Barbadian English” or “Barbadian Creole (English)”, the name Bajan (also Barbadian or Badian) for the vernacular language of Barbados is derived from the island name and does not carry the potential charge that suggests a position on the origins of the language, as discussed below. Although Barbados was an entrepôt for slaves (serving as the springboard for settlements elsewhere in the Caribbean), Bajan is unique amongst languages in the Anglophone Caribbean territories, i.e., from Jamaica to Guyana, because its creole affiliations have been questioned (as is the case for African American English). This is largely due to the nature of the island’s historical links to Britain and its demographics during the early colonial period. Almost twice as long a term as its sister territories in the Atlantic, Barbados experienced an uninterrupted colonization period of more than three hundred years by English-speaking rulers, lending to the cognomen “Little England”. Moreover, in the first quarter century of colonization, whites outnumbered blacks, further lending to its image.

2.

Historical background

Archeological records indicate that prior to the appearance of the English in Barbados, the island had been inhabited by Arawak or Taino Indians, since sometime

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between 200 and 400 BC, sailing from what is now known as Venezuela. However, it is believed that these tribes no longer inhabited the island by the time of the first British arrival in 1625 under the authority of King James I. Under British rule, two racial groups, whites and blacks, populated the island, with their proportion changing over time according to the needs of the plantation system. For instance, during the early colonial period (1627–1660), the island consisted of small farms on which tobacco, cotton, ginger and indigo were cultivated, necessitating servants but few slaves. As a result, African slaves were outnumbered by whites, comprised of planters and a large prisoner of war and bondservant population from Ireland and later Scotland who performed servile and agricultural work under several years of indentureship. Within a quarter of a century of colonization, planters found it more lucrative to cultivate sugar, which required large amounts of manpower. Thus, accompanying the “sugar revolution” was a dramatic increase in the importation of African slaves originating from present-day Ghana, Togo, Dahomey, and western Nigeria. This increase of Africans in Barbados resulted in a reverse shift in the population, such that between 1667 and 1670 blacks outnumbered whites two to one. This process continued until the 1800s at which point blacks would henceforth represent the overwhelming majority of the island’s population. Emancipation of slaves was finalized in 1838. Due to a large African slave population, Barbados, unlike many of the other Caribbean islands, did not lack manpower, hence the low percentage of other ethnic minorities (e.g., East Indians, Chinese) comprising the island’s population. In terms of the nation’s economy, since the mid-17th century the vast majority of Barbados’ landmass has been under sugar cane. However, in recent times, the massive growth in tourism as its major income-generating activity has caused a shift in the country’s economy. As a result, recently, there has been a shortage of agricultural manpower leading to recruitment of temporary labor from neighboring islands.

3.

Research background

Researchers have almost exclusively examined the morphosyntactic structure of Bajan in their quest to discover the linguistic origins of the language. Since the 1980s, linguistic research on the Bajan language has focused on the extent to which the language was influenced by the provincial dialects of England and the West African languages spoken by the slave populations. Debates ensued regarding the genesis of Bajan in terms of whether it should be considered a dialect of English or a Creole (similar to other Caribbean Creoles) with linguistic links to West Africa (cf. Hancock 1980; Cassidy 1986; Fields 1995; Rickford and Handler 1994). In the end, historical and synchronic studies of its grammatical structure suggest that Bajan has shown a wide range of linguistic variation throughout its

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history, with great co-occurrence of features attributable to superstrate (British dialects spoken in Ireland and southwest England), as well as substrate (African) influences (cf. Winford 2000). The work of Fields (1995) reveals linguistic residues (e.g., invariant word order for questions, absence of number distinction in nouns, invariant pronoun usage) of a pidgin stage for Bajan that appears at least since the 18th century. Fields argues that the social history and demographics of Barbados in the 18th century provided an environment conducive to the formation of a creole from an earlier formed pidgin. Firstly, there was a dominant white planter group and a subordinate slave group with little social interaction between the two. Secondly, there was a period in which blacks vastly outnumbered whites. And thirdly, there was at some point a steady influx of new African slaves onto the island. Due to its extensive contact with English, Bajan has decreolized. One may argue that the language has decreolized to the extent that the range between its most creolized forms and Standard English is the smallest for the Anglophone Creoles spoken in the Caribbean.

4.

Bajan

4.1.

Survey

Bajan, then, a member of the Caribbean English Creole (CEC) family, shares a number of distinctive linguistic features at the level of phonology, grammar and lexicon with its sister territories. Nonetheless, it has several marked phonological features that lend to the distinctive Bajan ‘accent’. Very often speakers of other CECs stereotype Bajan speakers by their r-fullness, their seemingly ubiquitous use of glottal stops and the quality of the first vowel of PRICE/PRIZE. Unlike the other CECs, Bajan is fully rhotic, with [r] rarely deleted among all levels of society. Moreover, within the Caribbean, glottalizing of the voiceless obstruents [p, t, k] in syllable-final position is specific to Bajan; an example is departments pronounced [d
Bpamns]. Also distinctive to Bajan is the phonetic quality of the first element of the diphthong that is pronounced as [ai] in the other CECs. Typically, the nucleus of PRICE/PRIZE backs and heightens to [
]. The last two features, specifically, often cause non-native Bajan speakers to conjecture that Barbadians are speaking some form of dialect reminiscent of the west of England, or an Irish English brogue. 4.2.

Phonological system

Although Bajan is most distinguished by its phonology, there has been little research on its phonological system, most likely due to the nature of the inquiries surrounding the linguistic origins of the language. Most notably, Wells (1982) provides an

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essential phonological inventory of Bajan, and Haynes (1973) correlates the degree of use of several stigmatized phonological features with individuals’ ethnic identity, education and geographical location on the island. Researchers and locals note that language varies by parish, but this is largely impressionistic. Generally, there is agreement that the speech of the most northern parish, St. Lucy, and most eastern parish, St. Philip, (both of which may also be considered rural) are most distinct from the rest of the island. In her research, Haynes’ found a distinct intonation in the northeastern parish of St. Andrew, also referred to as the Scotland District, physically demarcated from the rest of the flat island by its “hilly” character. That dialect differences exist can be attributed to degree of proximity to urban centers, and the ramifications stemming from this (e.g., education, industry). The phonological inventory of Bajan has much in common with the other CECs. Together it stands in contrast to other varieties of English, particularly in terms of vowel quality (primarily with respect to its diphthongs) and prosody. Unlike RP and General American, the mid [e] and low [o] vowels in FACE and GOAT generally have not undergone Long Mid Diphthonging in the Caribbean English Creoles. Whereas in RP and General American, the long vowels have diphthongal allophones, in the CECs, the long vowels tend to remain pure. The CECs also tend to have unreduced vowels in unstressed syllables instead of the reduced [] typifying other varieties of English. This contributes to the perception of these creoles as syllable-timed, as opposed to stress-timed languages, and conveys a rhythmic quality. Finally, the intonation of the CECs tends to utilize a broad pitch range. For example, more than other varieties of English, these languages employ rising intonation at the end of clauses to indicate a question. Table 1 summarizes the distinctive vowel realization of Bajan. Table 1.

Bajan vowel realizations

KIT




FLEECE

i

DRESS



FACE

e ~ ei /  ~ i

TRAP

a

PALM

a

LOT

 ~

THOUGHT

 ~ 

STRUT



GOAT

o > o

FOOT



GOOSE

u

BATH

a

PRICE




CLOTH



CHOICE


/ o


NURSE

(

MOUTH

u ~ 

Bajan: phonology

Table 1. (continued)

Bajan vowel realizations

NEAR

er

CURE

or

SQUARE

er

happY

i

START

ar

lettER

(

NORTH

r / r

horsES




FORCE

or

commA



4.3.

505

Vowels

Unlike what is found for some popular CEC speech, TRAP and LOT are not merged in Bajan. However, the vowels of LOT, CLOTH and THOUGHT are generally merged like in many rhotic accents. While CLOTH always appears to be rounded, this feature is variably manifested as unrounded for LOT and THOUGHT. Realization of FACE may vary by region and education/class. In the speech of urban and more educated speakers of Bajan, FACE is generally realized as monophthongal [e], although it appears that, more recently, Long Mid Diphthonging has become productive in the language, adding a closing offglide to the long mid vowel [ei]. FACE is manifested in rural and uneducated speech with the more open and lower monophthongal variant []. While Wells (1982: 584) notes that the alternating variant may be the centering diphthong [e], I suggest that it is rather the opening diphthong [
], common in popular CEC speech. GOAT, on the other hand, while traditionally monophthongal in Bajan, appears to be moving towards the centring diphthong [o]. Like STRUT, the first element of the PRICE diphthong is generally half-open and unrounded [] (although Wells provides a broader range between [] and []). Highly educated speakers may have the more fronted open [a] as the first element of this diphthong. CHOICE is variably manifested as [
] and [oi], the latter viewed as markedly Bajan for this lexical class by neighboring CEC speakers. The first element of the MOUTH diphthong appears to be slightly more rounded than [], although not to the extent of [ç]. START, BATH and PALM are in the same phonetic class, realized as the relatively front unrounded [a]. In other rhotic environments, NEAR and SQUARE are merged, and NORTH and FORCE are phonemically distinct, although FORCE and CURE are manifested as the pure variant of GOAT.

5.

Current issues

Today in Barbados, one still finds remnants of class and race stratification delineating the vestigial struggles of the colonial era. While black Barbadians have

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made social and economic strides, largely controlling the local political sector in the upper and middle classes, whites have near monopoly in the larger commercial sectors. Along these lines, class differences within the racial strata of the island are also evident. Within the scholarly literature on Barbados and other Anglophone islands, poor whites, although relatively small in number, are historically and socially placed in the national sphere, albeit as a mythical or oftentimes autonomous entity. Despite the social existing partitions, researchers note that Barbadian identity is tied to a strong sense of and commitment to a national identity and shared culture. Such portrayals are evident in the unofficial national slogan, “All O’ We Is One” [All of us are one]. However, the Bajan language, despite being viewed as the local national language, has been ideologically linked to the island’s black population. Blake’s (1997) research on a racially-mixed poor community in Barbados shows its black and white populations to speak the local vernacular in a typically creole manner, particularly regarding morphosyntactic features, with whites at times displaying even more creole-like behavior. The linguistic similarities of these two groups may be crucially linked to their socioeconomic status on the island, which can be located in the political economy. Clearly, diachronic and synchronic studies of all aspects of the Bajan language are wanting. Rich areas for linguistic inquiry include internal and regional variation, contact-induced change, race relations, as well as changes due to the current social and political economy of the island. While the Bajan language has been adequately examined in terms of genesis arguments, it remains an area for research in terms of broader issues arising in creole studies and sociolinguistics.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Blake, Renée 1997 All O’ We Is One?: Race, class and language in a Barbados community. Ph.D. dissertation, Stanford University. Cassidy, Frederic G. 1986 Barbadian Creole — possibility and probability. American Speech 61: 195– 205. Fields, Linda 1995 Early Bajan: Creole or non-creole? In: Jacques Arends (ed.), The Early Stages of Creolization, 89–112. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Hancock, Ian 1980 Gullah and Barbadian — origins and relationships. American Speech 55: 17– 35.

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Haynes, Lilith 1973 Language in Barbados and Guyana: attitudes, behaviors and comparisons. Ph.D. dissertation, Stanford University. Rickford, John and Jerome Handler 1994 Textual evidence on the nature of early Barbadian speech, 1676–1835. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 9: 221–255. Roberts, Peter 1988 West Indians and Their Language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wells, John C. 1982 Accents of English. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Winford, Donald 2000 ‘Intermediate’ creoles and degrees of change in creole formation: The case of Bajan. In: Neumann-Holzschuh and Schneider (eds.), 215–246.

The creoles of Trinidad and Tobago: phonology Valerie Youssef and Winford James

1.

Sociohistorical background

1.1.

Introduction

The histories of the islands of Trinidad and Tobago (see Map 1) are divergent, and although the two have comprised a single political entity since 1889, they must be considered as separate entities for the purposes of describing both their histories and the distinct linguistic elements in their language varieties. This need has been under-stated in the literature on Trinidad and Tobago, since the two islands have hardly been treated differentially in any detail in survey texts (e.g., Holm 1989/90; Winford 1993). Solomon (1993: 2) mentions a paucity of information available on Tobago, but there has been work (e.g. James 1974; Minderhout 1979; Southers 1977) which has simply drawn less attention to itself because of the political ascendancy of the larger island. It is hoped that a new publication on Tobagonian will redress the balance (James and Youssef 2002), since the basilectal variety peculiar to Tobago alone merits attention in its own right, and the interplay among varieties in the island is also unique. For phonology, this is undisputably the most comprehensive source. The best sources on the phonology of Trinidad are Winford (1972, 1978), Winer (1993) and Solomon (1993). Broadly it can be said that the history of conquest, exploitation and migration was different for Trinidad and Tobago, notwithstanding their common Amerindian indigenous base and initial Spanish incursions. Both were claimed by Columbus in 1498, but Tobago was sighted and not invaded at this time. However, Trinidad remained officially Spanish until 1797, with a strong French presence up to the late-eighteenth century, while Tobago was continuously squabbled over until 1763, but with no lasting linguistic impact either from Spanish or French. The difference was one of skirmishes in Tobago versus long-lasting settlement in Trinidad, with the latter having more far-reaching linguistic results on the lexicon. With regard to the history and development of Caribbean creole languages generally, there is likely to have been a spectrum of language varieties from the outset. A full language continuum ranging from the basilectal creole to the standard is likely to have developed in early slave societies according to the extent of exposure of different sub-groups in the society to the Standard. House slaves are likely to have de-

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Map 1. Trinidad and Tobago

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veloped near-acrolectal varieties, whereas the field slaves would have developed and continued to use the basilect. Field slaves were cut off from real social contact with the ruling class or from any motivation to move towards its language. Children born into the society would have heard their parents’ native African languages as well as interlanguage varieties adopted by the adults as they made more or less accommodation to the superstrate languages. In some measure, it would have been these children who would have augmented their parents’ language creation, becoming the ultimate architects of the new creole language. 1.2.

Trinidad

If we examine Trinidad first, as the larger territory in size and population, we find that the Spanish had little sustained interest in it since it did not yield precious metals. As a result, the Spanish residents of the island never numbered more than a few hundred, though these did succeed in severely decimating the native Amerindian population in the course of time. By 1765, the Amerindians numbered only 2503 of an original 30-40000 (Brereton 1981). It is notable, however, that a great many towns in Trinidad have retained Amerindian names down to the present e.g. Arima, Tunapuna, Arouca, Tacarigua. This is unlike Tobago, whose main retention is the name of the island itself, originally Tavaco (for full coverage of the ranges of lexical items in Trinidad see Baksh-Soodeen 1995). In the late eighteenth century, the Spanish encouraged French migration to Trinidad. This allowed those fleeing the political upheaval which climaxed in the French Revolution to set up sugar plantations, using slaves brought either directly from West Africa or from French Caribbean territories such as Martinique, Guadeloupe, Haiti, Grenada, St. Lucia and Cayenne (now French Guyana). Chacon, the then governor, granted a second Cedula giving free land to settlers bringing slaves with the result that Trinidad’s population was transformed between 1783 and 1803. At that time there were reported to be 20,464 ‘French’-speaking slaves, 5275 free coloureds of whom the majority spoke French, and 2261 whites of whom the majority again were French speaking (Wood 1968: 33). As a direct result of these incursions the first Creole language spoken in Trinidad was a French-lexicon creole (Thomas 1869). That language, which we see recorded by Wood as French, was undoubtedly a French-lexicon creole, for the slaves at least, and most probably for the plantation owners at that time. This language survived intact throughout the nineteenth century, notwithstanding the establishment of a strong British rule during that period. The first attestations of an English creole are found recorded for 1838 in the diaries of a Mrs. Carmichael (quoted in Winer 1984) and by others. They reported on some of the slaves knowing two creole varieties, French- and English-lexicon, and feigning ignorance of the latter for reasons of excluding the British master class from their conversation.

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Trinidad is sometimes held not to have had a basilectal English-Creole variety, but the Spectator texts found by Winer and Gilbert (1987) show that she did have a basilect in the 1860’s. It appears that the island experienced a gradual shift in language use from a French-lexicon basilect to an English-lexicon mesolect under the steadily encroaching influence of English varieties. Villages such as Paramin, Blanchisseuse and La Fillette on the north coast, and Carenage in the west, retain elderly native French Creole speakers down to the present time. Solomon (1993) makes a strong case for a language crossover element in the evolution of the creole languages, noting the lack of syllable final -r in words such as car and cart as being a direct effect of this. He argues that this feature distinguishes Caribbean islands with a French background e.g. Grenada, St. Lucia, Dominica, from those with an English background like Barbados, Guyana and Jamaica with a history of colonization by r-pronouncing British varieties including the south-west of England and Ireland. However, basilectal Tobagonian exhibits lack of syllable-final -r also as well as some Jamaican varieties with no French influence. Trinidad had to look outside for the support of its agrarian economy. From 1845 until 1917 there was continuous Indian migration to Trinidad as the British government encouraged labourers to come mainly from Uttar Pradesh in Northern India to populate the plantations that the African population had abandoned following emancipation. They brought a number of languages including Bhojpuri and Tamil, but the one which won out and became a lingua franca was Bhojpuri, a language related to, but not a dialect of, Hindi. Moving to the rural areas of central Trinidad, the Indian population retained Bhojpuri for some time with French Creole as their first Trinidadian language. Historically it has been difficult to disambiguate some of the lexicon between these two languages. Winford (1972; 1978) found the speech of rural Trinidadians to be the most conservative phonologically, and this is discussed further in Section 2.2. below. Solomon (1993: 166) has also noted the fact that syllable-final [-r] is pronounced in words and names of Indic and Arabic origin as distinct from those of European origin. There was a Spanish presence in the nineteenth century through a group of 4000 Spanish-Amerindian persons who came mainly from Venezuela and settled in the foothills of the Northern Range to cultivate cocoa. These were the ancestors of the few remaining Spanish speakers in Trinidad today. Also contributing to the multiracial and cultural environment of the time were 1298 Madeirans who arrived in 1846 and approximately 2400 Chinese who arrived between 1853 and 1886. Between 1841 and 1861 a large number of African ex-slaves, including 6500 from St Helena and Sierra Leone, came into Trinidad; these Alleyne (1980: 211) considers to have had a direct influence on the emerging English-lexicon creole of Trinidad. There were others who spoke Yoruba, Ibo, Congo and Manding. In addition, there were many who migrated from other parts of the Caribbean, including 14,000 Barbadians. These migrant Caribbean people

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introduced a number of creole varieties to Trinidad and were particularly important in the transition of Trinidad from French-lexicon to English-lexicon Creole earlier alluded to. 1.3.

Tobago

Tobago was nominally Spanish from 1498 until the first British settlers arrived in 1625 but, as with Trinidad, the Spanish had little real interest in the territory. The Dutch landed settlers in 1628, but a Spanish and Amerindian force from Trinidad invaded and retook Tobago. The British landed again in 1639 and again the Amerindians fought them off. By 1674, when Tobago was ceded to the Dutch, the island had changed hands more than a dozen times. European policy at that time was that the island should be sufficiently desecrated as to hinder all development, so intense was the competition over it. The island was granted a neutral status from 1684-1763, which was virtually ignored. None of the European forces, save the British, stayed sufficiently long to impact the language situation. With regard to the ethnic origins of the Africans of Tobago and their languages, the records are few. Elder (1988:16, 19) states that Congoes lived in the Tobagonian villages of Culloden Moor, Belle Garden, Pembroke and Charlotteville, as reported in ‘oral accounts of living informants’. Ibos are also mentioned in government records, and a Moravian minister apparently reported to the pioneering creolist Hugo Schuchardt in the 1880s that most Negroes at that time were Cramanti, with a few Ibos (Winer and Gilbert 1987). Tobago was ceded to the British by the French in 1763, and from that year, the British proceeded to purposefully build a colony. Planters, mostly of Scottish origin, sailed from Barbados, Grenada, and other already colonised islands, as well as from Britain itself, with their slaves, to carve up the island into parishes and plantations as part of Britain’s great sugar enterprise. The colony started out as part of the Grenada government. Except for a very brief 12-year discontinuous French interregnum (1781-1793; 1802-3), the British formally governed Tobago until 1962, when the country of Trinidad and Tobago became independent. Tobago became a formal part of Trinidad and Tobago, as a ward of the colony, from 1899. Although slavery was abolished in 1838, the plantation continued to be the focal point of Tobagonian life to a much greater extent than in neighbouring Trinidad. The Tobagonian planters passed a number of laws after Emancipation in 1838 to keep the ex-slaves tied to the land by a metayage (share-cropping) system; this served to preserve the sugar estates initially but brought competition between the sugar work of the estates and the metayers’ trend towards developing other crops for internal trade. Sugar and cotton production gradually gave way to the production of cocoa, coconuts, hides, animals, vegetables and fruits. Skilled tradespeople, artisans, shopkeepers and seamstresses came to proliferate, and moved away from plantation work, with the result that the sugar economy collapsed in the 1880’s

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despite the planters importing labour from other islands for their estates. Nonetheless, the island of Tobago remained village-based in a way that Trinidad did not. The continuation of such a social and economic state meant that the English lexicon Creole, which had undergone no noticeable effect from the brief French incursions to the island, remained intact. 1.4.

Twentieth century developments

One further fact that distinguished Trinidad from Tobago linguistically, apart from ethno-historical difference, was the faster spread of education through urbanization in the former. Both islands witnessed the spread of primary education through Canadian missionaries from 1868 since they focussed on rural areas in both territories initially. In the long term, rural areas in Tobago remained more resistant to education because of the need for children to be employed in estate work, such that there was an earlier trend towards Standard English in the urban rather than rural environments. More schools were built in Trinidad than in Tobago as part of a government policy which underdeveloped the smaller island in relation to the larger. It is true, however, that, from the 1960s, parents in Tobago insisted that their children go to school at all cost. Prime Minister Eric Williams, who came to power in 1956, decreed that “the future of the children” lay “in their schoolbags” and this focus determined a shift from the land by the new generation. Unfortunately there was not the level of infrastructural and economic development to provide employment for these newly educated youngsters in Tobago, however. Today the two islands share a mesolectal English-lexicon creole, which is alike in most particulars. Since the Creole was officially recognized as a language variety in its own right from 1975, it has been more used by teachers in schools, and contexts for monolingual Standard production are declining. The mesolect has become increasingly shared because of continuous movement between Tobago and Trinidad, the upsurge in education across the board, and especially because of Tobagonian migration to Trinidad as the territory offering greater opportunities for training, employment and other benefits. A common factor in both territories are both North American and Jamaican influences, which manifest particularly among radio announcers and teenagers. Solomon (1993: 167-8) comments that, like most imitations, the changes towards American English in phonology are not consistently maintained, and this is also true for Jamaican. Increased status for the creole and an identification with it as the language of the territory have made for greater use of it in public contexts, such as parliament; motivation towards a pure Standard is disappearing since most people balance out their use of standard and creole in relation to the demands of each situation. If StE is the language of power, TrnC is the language of solidarity, and appropriate language use necessarily entails balancing the two varieties.

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In a study focussed on the village of Bethel in Tobago, Youssef (2001) found that the oldest and least educated informants still spoke largely the basilect, with shifts to the lower mesolect in public contexts. Retired professionals spoke both the acrolect and the basilect and had negative views of the mesolect as a mixed unstable variety. Young people, in contrast, spoke more mesolect, although they commanded the basilect; some disdained the acrolect, and all showed a measure of identification with the mesolect and specific features within it particularly characterized that group. These kinds of complex interaction demand further investigation.

2.

Phonological description

2.1.

Introduction

Firstly, we must acknowledge considerable phonological variability in both islands and a situation of ongoing flux in the language varieties caused by internal and external influences upon them alluded to in the previous section. It is unclear whether the language varieties are achieving a measure of overall stability in relation to one another or whether there is a steady process of decreolization brought about by the overarching effect of English in education. In public contexts too, the upper mesolect is merging to some extent with the Standard in general usage with the result that many educators are not entirely clear on their separate and distinct features. So where we might still expect to hear Standard English, as for example in church or school, a pseudo-acrolect is emerging within which both grammatical and phonological features often show variability (cf. Youssef, James and Ferreira 2001). Some speakers, constrained towards Standard, but limited in its grammar, imitate a pseudo Standard ‘accent’ with which they are not very familiar, and a great deal of variation results. It is worth noting again that we may link Trinidad and Tobago more readily at the acrolectal and mesolectal levels but, beyond this, need to consider the Tobagonian basilect separately. 2.2. Trinidad and Tobago: Acrolect and mesolect 2.2.1. Vowels There has been little careful sociolinguistic study of the distribution of vowel sounds according to features such as age, class, ethnicity and geography, but a notable exception is Winford (1972, 1978). He was able to posit a system of vowel change in progress in Trinidad, with the number of vowels in the system very reduced for older rural Indians and their descendants but gradually

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broadening towards the norms at the acrolectal end of the scale. He studied the variables (Œ˘) as in work (√) as in hut, (ç) as in hot and (´) as in the unstressed syllable in father and found considerably more variation among the rural community than the urban. Urban informants used the prestige variants, corresponding with those documented in table 1 below, more than any other, but the rural informants showed more variability with ‘significant patterns of age and ethnic differentiation’ (1978: 285). Younger rural speakers evidenced more use of the urban patterns than did older, while the older rural speakers used the more stigmatized variants. The oldest rural Indians of the lowest status group, whose first language was Bhojpuri, used highly stigmatized variants absent from the urban varieties. Most evidenced was a generalized [a] for the variables above, and here we notice an interesting correlation with the Tobagonian basilect. Winford hypothesized that they had reduced the range of vowels available in the StE system considerably at the time of first contact and that these were now in process of re-establishment. As the reader will observe in the discussion below, however, a considerable measure of vowel mergence does exist and persist across the more normative variety. With such a measure of variation in mind we can proceed to table 1 below, which sets out Wells’ list of 28 items with most typical norms represented. Where there are significant differences from other national varieties these are bolded, and where there is a range of variation about the norm this too is specified. Overall it will be noted that there is a tendency to produce as monophthongs what in other national varieties are diphthongs. Four items are added finally from the extended Foulkes/Docherty listing and one other, BARE: Table 1. Vowels of decreolized varieties KIT DRESS TRAP LOT STRUT FOOT BATH NORTH HAPPY COMMA EIGHT

[I] > [i] [E] [a> æ] [ç>√>Å] [√>ç˘>Å] [U] [a:] [ç˘] [> i] [a>´>√] [e:]

CLOTH NURSE FLEECE FACE PALM THOUGHT GOAT FORCE LETTER FIRE METER

[ç>ç˘] [:>ç] [i:] [e:] [a:] [ç˘>Å] [o:] [ç˘] [´>√] [ai´] [´>√]

GOOSE PRICE CHOICE MOUTH NEAR SQUARE START CURE HORSES BEER BARE

[u:] [aI] [çI] [çU] [»˘] [˘>»˘] [a:] [juŒ] [I] [»˘>i] [»˘>i]

Most of these features of the vowel system of the normative national Trinidadian and Tobagonian variety are adapted from a chart compiled by Ferreira for Youssef, James and Ferreira (2001) which was verified and extended for this paper. In put-

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ting it together she drew upon her own native speaker competence as well as on that of Solomon (1993) and on the work of Allsopp (1996). Ferreira isolated 22 phonemes in comparison to 17 isolated by Winford (1978). Vowel length is one of the most variant features in Trinidadian and Tobagonian speech. The most striking difference with other StE varieties is the low incidence of [Q]. Often it is lost in one place so that, for example, [a] and [Q] may merge rendering heart and hat the same, and then length may be reintroduced elsewhere, e.g in a word like salad, pronounced /sQ»la˘d/ with stress on the final syllable. (In the Tobagonian basilect, however, heart and hat are distinguished by vowel length and salad has two short vowels.) There is a tendency towards neutralization of complex vowel sounds particularly in combination with [´] and occurring word finally. These produce homophones that are distinguishable by context and include beer and bear, peer and pear and similar combinations. Solomon (1993: 15-16) has observed that acrolectal speakers may have either [i] or [E] before [´] but not both and suggests that education may be a critical factor with women outstripping men in production of [E´] particularly on the Trinidad radio. He believes that this variant correlates with a higher level of education and is more prestigious, but admits to a general increase in the use of [i´] in the media for both sexes. In the mesolect and increasingly in the acrolect [e:] is produced. In the Trinidadian mesolect it is generally recognized that the vowel sounds in cut, cot, caught and curt may not be distinguished with the sounds /√/, /Å/, /ç/, and /Œ/ rendered as the single back open rounded vowel /Å/. Other neutralizations in the same vowel group produce the following: – [Å] and [√] in StE as in body and buddy merge in [√], rendering these items as well as others like golf and gulf homophonous. Sometimes, however, there may be a lengthening resulting in the following merger of [Å] and [ç]; body and bawdy become neutralized, long becomes “lorng”. – [з ] and [√] merge so that bird and bud are homophonous. The major other neutralizations, which do not hold for all speakers, are as follows: – [A] and [a] in SE as in ask and axe (where metathesis can also occur) merge in [a]; – the vowels in harm and ham, become homophonous with the use of [a]. – the vowels in bit and beat become homophonous with the use of [i˘]. Warner (1967) associated these last two mergers with French Creole, Spanish or Bhojpuri influence, but today they are more generalized allophonic variants, as real contact with these disappearing languages rapidly diminishes.

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Other characteristic vowel sounds occur in words like down and sound which are rendered [dÅN] and [sÅN] respectively. Most usually the vowel is nasalized. 2.1.3. The consonants The consonants show much less variation than the vowels, being mostly shared between Creole and English. As with other Caribbean Creoles, in both Trinidad and Tobago there is the shift to representation of [T] as [t] and [D] as [d] across the board, and these features are ceasing to be stigmatized even in pseudo-acrolectal speech. In Winford’s study in the 1970’s he found variation in the alternation among these variables in predictable patterns according to class and style, but in 2002 [t] and [d] as norms are a recognized and accepted part of pseudo-acrolectal speech with these variants having become markers with no censure attached to their use. Final consonant clusters which exhibit the same voicing quality are reduced in all Caribbean creole varieties and Trinidad and Tobago are no exception. This is particularly the case with final /-t/ or /-d/ (although not [-nt]), and unusual with /-s/ or /-z/. As Labov (1972a) has pointed out for African American and Winford (1972) for Trinidadian, items that omit these behave differently according to their grammatical status, however, and are more likely to be retained when they represent a grammatical meaning, e.g. passed as opposed to past. From Winford’s (1972) data he was able to order such clusters according to frequency, showing some phonological constraint, but also, for speakers in the middle class, grammatical constraint. A variable which shows little social or stylistic stability is final -ng, which is realized word-finally as either [n] or [N]. The consonantal features outlined thus far are becoming increasingly consistent in usage across the social and stylistic board. Less frequent are the variation between [v] and [b] as in [bEri] for very, and the palatalization involved in the production of [tS] for [tr] as in [tSri] for tree. Metathesis commonly occurs in voiceless clusters like ask which is rendered [aks], and crisp realized as [kips]. For older Indian speakers there is aspiration on voiced stops, as in [bhAji], bhaji, a leafy spinach, cited by Winer (1993: 17) from Mohan and Zador (1986). These sound types have all become stereotypes associated with rural and Indian speech. The variation on /r/, as for example when it is rendered [w], is derived from French Creole and the retroflex flap [”] from Bhojpuri. Trinidad is distinguished for its non-rhoticity, in this contrasting with neighbouring Barbados and Guyana, as well as Jamaica. Wells (1982: 578) has noted that metropolitan English had become non-rhotic at the time when English was established in Trinidad but this connection remains speculative. It is also distinguished by the palatalization of velar consonants /k/ and /g/ so that [kja‚] represents can’t and [gjA˘dEn] represents garden. In this feature there is no clear style or social differentiation (Solomon 1993: 181). But it is found more in rural Indian-

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rather than rural African speakers, with less clear-cut distinctions in urban areas (Winford 1972; Solomon 1993). Solomon suggests that it is word particular, being obligatory in can’t, and rare in words like calypso and ganja. 2.3.

Tobagonian basilect

2.3.1. Vowels A number of vowel sounds are particular to Tobagonian and occur mostly in the basilect in the shortest words and in function words. Where the basilect and the mesolect share a pronunciation it is usually on distinctive content words. The table of words equivalent to table 1, which displays acrolectal and mesolectal vowels, is presented below in table 2 but it should be noted that the basilect variants are not consistently produced in the reading of a Standard English text or word list. The variety in question is not used for reading purposes and informants necessarily shift varieties in reading. Table 2. Vowels of the basilect KIT DRESS TRAP LOT STRUT FOOT BATH NORTH HAPPY COMMA EIGHT

[I] [E] [a] [A] [ç] [U] [A:] [A˘] [] [a] [e]

CLOTH NURSE FLEECE FACE PALM THOUGHT GOAT FORCE LETTER FIRE METER

[A˘] [ç] [i:] [e] [A:] NA [o] [o] [a] [ai´] [A]

GOOSE PRICE CHOICE MOUTH NEAR SQUARE START CURE HORSES BEER BARE

[u:] [aI] [ai] [çU] [er] [er] [a:] [jç˘] [I] [er] [er]

Major vowel oppositions according to variety and territory include the following: Tobago’s basilect retains [a˘] for Trinidad’s [ç>ç˘] cloth, lot, north. Also characteristic are [o], e.g. force, for Trinidad’s [ç˘] and [ai] e.g choice for Trinidad’s [çI]. Among consonants the occurrence of [/] word-initially for general English [h] is prevalent. [a] is the most frequently occurring Tobagonian vowel. It is used in a vast number of words where the vowel sounds [Q], [´], and [Å] would be used in British English. Table 3 below, adapted from Youssef and James 2002, gives examples of words it is used in as compared to corresponding words in Standard English.

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Table 3. Tobagonian [a] on English words Monosyllabic æ words

Stressed syllable æ of non-monosyllabic words

Monosyllabic ç- words


in non-monosyllabic Stressed syllable ç- in words non-monosyllabic words

hat, cat, back

DA.ddy, HA.ppy, PAM.per

flop, long, knock (> flap, lang, knack)

BO.dy, FO.llow, CON. CO.llapse, wa.TER, fi.dent (> BA.dy, FA.llow, to.LE.rant (> CA.llapse, war.TA,) KAN.fident).

(Relevant syllables in non-monosyllabic words capitalised)

In the first two categories of words, [a] is general Tobagonian but for the third it is purely basilectal; [a] gives way to [å] in both mesolectal and acrolectal usage (though, for [´] words, it may be retained). [a] is an unrounded sound while its mesolectal counterpart is rounded [å]. Apparently because of this varietal distinction, [a] is, to an extent, socially stigmatised. There are two diphthongs that occur particularly in certain word types in basilectal speech; these are [ai] (e.g. bwai> ‘boy’, spwail> ‘spoil’), and their counterparts in mesolectal speech are respectively [oi] and [ai]. [ei] is associated particularly with the towns of Charlotteville and Speyside in the eastern part of Tobago and with Bethel and Plymouth in the west. There are two single vowels in all varieties that seem to be reduced monophthongal versions of English diphthongs: [e˘]/[e] ( o); and /i/ is the remote past marker that has lost both its onset /b-/ and its coda /-n/ (bin > i). 2.3.4. Consonants The most distinctive Tobagonian consonant sound is ///. It may be heard in the pronunciation of words like [/ows] ‘house’, [/ow] ‘how’, and [soo/m] ‘something’. In addition, the word-initial consonants [h], [b], [d], [g] and [y] are most usually dropped in basilectal Tobagonian speech. In the speech of some speakers, the h- is absent from all English words containing it—a phenomenon that is not unusual in speakers of a range of non-standard English dialects across the world. Examples of content words with this form are: home > ome, house > ouse, hot > at, hat > at, hit > it, hoe > oe, hand > an(d). The h- is absent from monosyllabic words, and the stressed syllable of non-monosyllabic words such as appy. For function words we find the unstressed-stressed pronoun pair hi-hii > i ‘he/his’ and ii ‘he/him/his’, and huu > uu ‘who’, which may occur as an interrogative pronoun, relative pronoun, or clause intensifier. Syllable structure differs in Tobagonian from both Trinidadian and StE in that, word initially, there is only a single sound produced rather than a cluster; hence we find: [fr-]> [f-]. In adult speech, this feature is limited to from > fom/fam, which is the only function word in English that starts with the cluster [fr-]. Whereas /s/ can be the first of up to three consonants at the onset of a word in English, in basilectal Tobagonian speech it may be dropped, for example, from words like skin, squeeze, smell, spit, and start (> kin, kweeze, mell, pit, and tart). [s-] is not dropped when it combines with the liquids and semi-vowels [r], [l], [w], and [y]. In even the most acrolectal speech in Tobagonian (but not in Trinidadian), the single-initial consonants b and p are lengthened by the addition of bilabial [w] to become [bw-] and [pw-] before the diphthong [oi] in a small group of words that include boy > bwoi, boil > bwoil, boycott > bwoicott, spoil > spwoil, and poison > pwoison. The shift from [v] to [b] recorded variably for Trinidadian also occurs in basilectal Tobagonian. It is found in words like the following: crave > crabe, love > lob, governor > gobna, and heavy > (h)eaby. As the list suggests, it occurs wherever the [v] may occur in a word. The shift does not seem to be motivated by any special phonological conditioning. When a fricative gives way to a plosive there is a change in lip movement which historically was important for registering negative emotions visibly. The cluster [-lf] is reduced to [-f] in the grammatical word self as the latter compounds with pronouns, even, and adverbs of place and time.

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Basilectal Tobagonian speech also evidences the dropping of final single-consonants especially the nasal ones, from grammatical words. In the second syllable of words, and intervocalically, [t] is replaced by [k] and [d] by [g]. The effects are seen in the following words: little > likku, bottle > bokku, riddle > riggu, middle > miggu, handle > ha[]gu, gentlemen > jenkumen. Voiceless [t] becomes voiceless [k], and voiced [d] becomes voiced [g]. The movement from front to back consonants seems motivated by the back vowel [-u], with which syllabic [l] is produced. This change may also be heard in some mesolectal Trinidadian speech. 2.4.

Suprasegmental features

The most common lay reaction to Trinidadian speech world-wide is that it is ‘singsong’. Associations have been made very broadly to Welsh as well as to African tone languages (e.g. Carter 1979) and, for Trinidad specifically, some speakers’ intonation patterns have also been linked with Spanish, French creole, and Bhojpuri. The current and overall reality is a prosody which has been adapted through all these influences, and which is, at this point in time, peculiarly ‘Creole’. Trinidadian and Tobagonian also exhibits a peculiar intonational characteristic in mesolectal speech of a rising intonation at the end of an utterance as if the speaker is in doubt or questioning (cf. Allsopp 1972). It may be that the speaker is seeking a responsiveness in the hearer as he/she does when using the very popular local tag Right? Solomon (1993: 34) identifies pitch as the critical prosodic feature rather than stress although he admits it is difficult to abstract pitch from tone. Winer (1993: 19-20) also notes ‘a higher and wider’ pitch range than in StE and ‘less degree of fall at sentence end’. The features of pitch and stress are confounded between English and Trinidadian speakers, the former hearing Trinidad pitch as stress. Solomon (1993: 34) equates the system with the Guyanese one as described by Allsopp (1972). The result is that disyllable words are most often either high-low or low-high, the latter being the more common and older pattern; in trisyllable words it is common to find a low-low-high or high-high-low pattern. Solomon has described longer items, as characteristically either low-low-high-high or, when they break into two, as low-high-high, low-high. All this can often result in a change of the characteristic English pattern such that unstressed syllables in that variety often come to carry high pitch in Trinidadian. The most common patterns in Trinidadian overall are low-high, low-low high and low-high high, and this creates some contrasting patterns with many varieties of Standard English, e.g (Capitals indicate stress, apostrophes denote pitch) COCKroa’ch, MAChine; TRInida’d; CARpe’nte’r. Interesting contrasts may be observed between ’opponent and cha’racter, ’component and com’merce. These features of the language

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can cause difficulty in comprehension for speakers of other varieties and the inconsistencies are very challenging for learners of the Trinidadian variety. James (2003) analyses the role of tone in the organisation of grammatical morphemes in a number of the subsystems of TobC. Among his findings about tone are that: a)

In TobC tone is morphemic in the case of the homophones kyã ‘can’ vs. kyã ‘can’t’);

b)

In TobC tone distinguishes emphatic from non-emphatic meanings in the homophones dèm vs. dém;

c)

In TobC tone typically combines with rhyme length to distinguish the members of emphatic-nonemphatic pairs—high tone with long-vowel and vowel-consonant sequences, and low tone with single vowels (e.g., shíí vs. shì and dém vs dè);

d)

In TobC tone is differentially associated with certain grammatical (sub)categories, with low tone associating with the definite article dì, the singularising article wàà, certain preverbal articles (e.g., imperfective à and future gò), the third person singular general object pronouns àm / òm, certain prepositions (e.g., à and pàn), and infinitival/possessive fù; and high tone associating with negators (e.g., nó and ẽ), emphasiser dúú, interrogative / relative wé, demonstrative dà(t), certain prepositions (e.g., tón ‘according to’, gí ‘to/for’), intensifier húú, reportive sé, and certain preverbal particles (e.g., completive dón and passive gé); and

e)

In TobC tone is variable on suffixes (e.g., sèf, séf) and the morpheme wan, among other morphemes, depending on where they occur in the syntax.

All in all, prosody contrasts markedly with other English varieties; the tendency to shared tonal and intonation patterns across Caribbean Creoles undoubtedly links back to the sharing of a common African tonal base despite the fact that no direct and precise links now survive.

3.

Conclusions

Separate recordings are included with this chapter for both Trinidadian and Tobagonian to highlight their most characteristic similarities and differences, which, as illustrated throughout the chapter, appear mainly in basilectal features which distinguish Tobagonian from Trinidadian speech overall. As travel between the two islands becomes increasingly frequent, and as young people in particular look to Trinidad for employment and advancement, the differences may slowly break

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down at every level. The mesolect is becoming increasingly widespread in usage right across the twin-island territory. Thus far language change is indicated. But there remains a distinct nationalism rooted in Tobago, as well as an essentially rural lifestyle, which ensures the continued vitality of the basilectal variety. As noted earlier, Youssef (2001), in a small-scale study in the village of Bethel, indicates that there remains a common level of basilectal usage for both old and young at home, but that the young favour the mesolect over the acrolect as a badge of modern identity in the wider world. The continuing use of the basilect as a home variety, and the relative weight of the mesolect in wider contexts, suggests that the continuous change from basilect to acrolect, considered to characterize a continuum situation, is not going through and that the situation may become relatively stable, with each variety having its own contexts for usage in the society at large.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Allsopp, Richard 1972 Some suprasegmental features of Caribbean English. Paper presented at the conference on creole languages and educational development, UWI, St. Augustine, 1972. Baksh-Soodeen, Rawwida 1995 A historical perspective on the lexicon of Trinidadian English. Ph.D. dissertation, The University of the West Indies, St. Augustine. Brereton, Bridget 1981 A History of Modern Trinidad. London: Heinemann Carter, Hazel 1979 Evidence for the survival of African prosodies in West African Creoles. Society for Caribbean Linguistics Occasional Paper 13. Elder, John D. 1988 African Survivals in Trinidad and Tobago. London: Paria Press. James, Winford 1974 Some similarities between Jamaican Creole and the dialect of Tobago. Caribbean Studies thesis, University of the West Indies, St. Augustine. 2003 The role of tone and rhyme structure in the organisation of grammatical morphemes in Tobagonian. In: Plag (ed.), 165-192. James, Winford and Valerie Youssef 2002 The Languages of Tobago. Trinidad and Tobago: School of Continuing Studies, University of the West Indies, St. Augustine.

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Minderhout, David 1973 A sociolinguistic description of Tobagonian English. Ph.D. dissertation, Georgetown University, USA. Mohan, Peggy and Paul Zador 1986 Discontinuity in a life cycle: The death of Trinidad Bhojpuri. Language 62: 291–320. Solomon, Denis 1993 The Speech of Trinidad - A Reference Grammar. Trinidad: School of Continuing Studies, The University of the West Indies. Southers, Donna 1977 A transformational analysis of Tobagonina English Creole. Ph.D. dissertation, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, USA. Thomas, J. J. 1869 The Theory and Practice of Creole Grammar. (1964 reprint London: New Beacon Books). Warner, Maureen 1967 Language in Trinidad with special reference to English. Ph.D. dissertation, University of York, UK. Winer, Lise 1984 Early Trinidadian Creole: The Spectator texts. English World-Wide 5: 181– 210. Winer, Lise and Glen Gilbert 1987 A 19th century report on the Creole English of Tobago: The Uh-Schuchardt correspondence. English World-Wide 8: 235–262. Winford, Donald 1972 A sociolinguistic description of two communities in Trinidad. Ph.D. dissertation, University of York: UK. 1978 Phonological hypercorrection in the process of decreolization – the case of Trinidadian English. Journal of Linguistics 14: 129–375. Wood, Donald 1968 Trinidad in Transition. London: Oxford University Press. Youssef, Valerie 1996 The competence underlying code-mixing in Trinidad and Tobago. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 11: 1–22. 2001 Age-grading in the anglophone creole of Tobago. World Englishes 20: 29–46. Youssef, Valerie, Winford James and Jo-Anne S. Ferreira 2001 Is there a Trinidad and Tobago Standard English? Paper presented at a Workshop on English Language Teaching, UWI, St. Augustine, Trinidad and Tobago, April 2001.

Suriname creoles: phonology Norval Smith and Vinije Haabo

1.

Introduction

The question of the origins of the English-lexifier creole languages spoken in Suriname, and also French Guyana, by several hundred thousand people is a controversial one. By origins we mean linguistic origins rather than population origins, although we have of course to take into account the influences of the languages spoken by the earliest African populations. In the case of creole languages it is also controversial whether one can speak of a break in continuity or not. Did creole languages develop in a special fashion, or were normal processes of language change involved? With the Surinamese creole languages in mind, it appears patently ridiculous to envisage any direct continuity in the sense of normal complete language transmission between the kinds of (sub)standard English reflected in the segmental phonologies of Surinamese creole words and the Surinamese creoles themselves. Smith (1987) claims that there is a regular relationship between the forms of lexical items in the Surinamese creoles and the incidence of phonemes in the various forms of English – standard and substandard – spoken in mid-17th century London. However, this is not the same as claiming that normal intergenerational language transfer took place. No kind of popular or colonial English is known which could fulfill the role of overall direct precursor to these languages. In regard to syntax, morphology, lexical semantics and even phonotactics all known varieties of popular/colonial English are far removed from the Surinamese creoles. The records of Sranan now go back to 1707 (Van den Berg 2000), a mere two generations after the settlement of Suriname by the English in 1651, and only three generations after the founding of the first Caribbean English colonies of St. Kitts and Barbados. The Sranan of the early 18th century is not however radically different from present-day Sranan in respect of its distance from the standard Englishes of England and the United States. Smith (2001) assumes the creation of a Proto-Caribbean Plantation Pidgin in the English colonies in the Caribbean in the first generation of slavery – roughly between 1625 and 1650. One reason for this is the existence of a common core of loans from a disparate selection of African languages, referred to by Smith (1987) as Ingredient X. Together with English vocabulary displaying common deviations from the regular Standard English developments in semantics and phonology, reconstituted function-words, and innovative syntactic constructions,

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these are shared by a considerable number of circum-Caribbean creole languages, such as St Kitts Creole, Jamaican Creole, Guyanese, Krio, Providencia Creole, Miskito Coast Creole, the Surinamese creoles and others. The conclusion seems to be warranted that there was some common linguistic stage showing a degree of stability underlying these creoles. The fact that some function-words and syntactic constructions are shared would also seem to rule out a pidgin of the most primitive type, a jargon pidgin. This stable pidgin must have come into existence during this first generation of English plantation-holding in the Caribbean. This is guaranteed by the fact that Suriname was settled in 1651, and that the English colonial presence lasted only until 1667. The vast majority of the English population had left by 1675, so that all the ingredients of Sranan must have been in place before then. This is not to deny that there are clear differences in type between the various English-lexifier creoles spoken in the Caribbean area. These are particularly observable in the typology of the vowel systems. 1.1.

The Suriname creole languages

Let us now turn to a consideration of the phonologies of the three Surinamese creole languages we will deal with here. The first is Sranan, the former language of the coastal plantations, and of the capital, Paramaribo. The second is Ndyuka, which we may take to be descended from an 18th century plantation variety of Sranan. The speakers of Ndyuka descend from maroons (escapees) from the coastal plantations. The third language is Saramaccan, which has a more complex history. This is also a maroon language, but one spoken largely by the descendants of slaves who escaped from the Jewish-owned plantations on the middle Suriname River. In the late 17th and early 18th century there was a concentration of Jewishowned plantations in this area, with as its mini-capital the settlement of Joden-Savannah (‘Jews’ Savanna’). The origin of this Jewish population is the subject of controversy (cf. Arends 1999; Smith 1999a), but we will adhere here to the scenario sketched by Smith that the Jews hailed indirectly from Brazil, and that they brought Portuguese-speaking slaves with them, who influenced the local Sranan to the extent that some 300 English-derived forms were replaced by Portuguese Creole forms, giving rise to a new creole language that was to some extent mixed in vocabulary. This was the precursor of Saramaccan. There are other creole languages/dialects spoken in Suriname, but these do not differ to any large degree from the three we will be dealing with. Closely related to Ndyuka are Aluku, Paramaccan and Kwinti, while Matawai resembles Saramaccan. For more on these see Smith (2002) and other articles in Carlin and Arends (2002).

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1.2.

527

Methodological preliminaries

We exclude from consideration here any word whose source is not clearly English. As the Netherlands was the colonial power for over 300 years there are a number of forms whose origin could be either Dutch or English. We will not go into any detail on why we consider a particular form to be of English origin. Some aspects of this methodological problem are discussed in Smith (1987).

2.

Phonological systems of the Suriname creoles

We will deal with the vowel systems, consonant systems and tone systems in that order. Two of the three languages are lexical tone languages and we will give a very brief characterization of this aspect here. All three languages are in a sense unusual—for varieties of English—in that they have official or semi-official writing-systems, which are very close to being phonemic. As these are already very familiar to linguists who work on these languages, we will make use of them here, with slight modifications where they deviate significantly from the IPA, such as in the use of y for /j/, or where they fall short. This we will take account of. We provide a description of the IPA values of the principal allophones. One major difference from most other varieties of “English” is the large-scale occurrence of anaptyctic (epithetic) vowels. For instance foot appears as /fu=tu/ in all three languages. The first /u/ here we will refer to as the organic vowel, and the second as anaptyctic. 2.1.

Vowel systems

Sranan and Ndyuka have a five-vowel system: /i, e, a, o, u/, and Saramaccan has a seven-vowel system: /i, e, E, a, ç, o, u/. In Saramaccan there is an additional vowel harmony restriction forbidding contiguous sequences of low-mid and highmid vowels. A further restriction affects the incidence of vowels in Saramaccan insofar as /..e=.e#, ..o=.e#/ sequences seem only to occur in more recent forms. Older English-derived forms seem to have /..=.E#, ..ç¤.E#/ instead. The approximate phonetic qualities of the vowels are as follows: (1) a.

Sranan:

/i/ /e/ /a/ /o/ /u/

[i] [E3 ~ I4] [a2 ~ A1] [ç3 ~ U4] [u]

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Norval Smith and Vinije Haabo

b.

Ndyuka:

/i/ /e/ /a/ /o/ /u/

[i] [E ~ e] [a] [o] [u]

c.

Saramaccan:

/i/ /e/ /E/ /a/ /ç/ /o/ /u/

[i] [e] [E] [a] [ç] [o] [u]

Note that tenseness and laxness play no role in these vowel systems. /e/ and /o/ in Sranan, and /E/ and /ç/ in Saramaccan would appear to be [–ATR], the other vowels being [+ATR]. Long vowels occur in all systems, although only marginally in Sranan. In Sranan stressed vowels preceding /r/ are lengthened considerably, and those following consonant-/r/ clusters are lengthened to a lesser degree. 2.2. (2) a.

Consonant systems Sranan: p

t b f m

tj d s n l~r

w b.

Ndyuka:

p b f v m

Saramaccan:

p b f v mb

g h N

j t d s z n l

w c.

k dj sj nj

tj dj

k g h

kp~kw gb~gw

tj dj

k g h

kp gb

ndj

Ng

nj j

t d s z nd

(kw) (gw)

Suriname creoles: phonology

m ∫

n Î l

w

529

nj

j

The phonetic values of /tj, dj, sj, nj/ are [tS, dZ, S, ¯]. The distinction between /kp/ and /kw/ is only made in some forms of Saramaccan. Other forms have /kp ~ kw/, and the concomitant /gb ~ gw/ indifferently. 2.3.

Tone systems

The two tone languages, Ndyuka and Saramaccan, have high tones H (marked by acute accents) opposed to low tones L (unmarked). Saramaccan also has changeable tones, which must be regarded as underlyingly unspecified ∅. These occur in words of European origin, and represent generally the old unaccented vowels in those words, as well as some epenthetic and all anaptyctic vowels. These are subject to raising under a combination of phonological and syntactic conditions. Unmarked vowels in words of African origin are lexically low. Examples of tone contrasts would be the following: (3) ∫E ∫=E ∫EE ∫E=E Î= Î==

L H∅ LL ∅H∅ H HH

‘red’ ‘belly’ ‘fiery red’ ‘bread’ ‘they’ ‘the’ (plural)

3.

Detailed phonological descriptions

3.1.

Vowel systems

Each vowel described will be introduced in terms of Wells sets, with the addition of only a few supplementary keywords. The total list of keywords used to define vowel-sets is as follows: (4) KIT BATH THOUGHT NEAR FIRE rottEN

DRESS CLOTH GOAT SQUARE POWER

TRAP NURSE GOOSE START happY

LOT FLEECE PRICE FORCE horsES

STRUT ACE CHOICE NORTH lettER

FOOT PALM MOUTH CURE commA

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Norval Smith and Vinije Haabo

3.1.1. KIT The KIT set of words with Middle English (henceforth ME) /
C/ are represented in Suriname creoles by words derived from Early Modern English ship, bit, dig, skin, drink, dinner, sieve, busy, and so on. In the rest of this article we will simply describe these for convenience as English words, whether the meaning has undergone a change or not. The normal realization of these words in the Suriname creoles is [i], a short high front vowel. Table 1. The KIT set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

fit

f
=ti

f
=ti

f
=ti

bitter

b
=ta

b
=ta

∫
=ta

skin

skin

sik
=n

siNk
=i

drink

dr
=Ni

di
=Ngi

di
=Ngi

finger

f
=Na

f
=Nga

f
=Nga

bit

-

-

a∫
=ti

live

l
=bi

l
=bi

l
=∫
=

A number of words that belong to this incidence set in RP and AmE have different realizations in the Suriname creoles. Table 2.

KIT words with deviant vowels

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

whip

(w
=pi)

(w
=pi)

hu=pi, u=pi

if

e=fu,e=fi

e=fu

e=e

him

en

e=n

(h)=n

mix

mo=ksi

mo=kisi

mç¤k
=si

Whip has a form in Sranan and Ndyuka concomitant with a derivation from a form [wIp]. Saramaccan, however, might be based on a form [hwIp], to judge by the optional /h/. The /u/ vowel appears in a number of other forms where it must also stand for earlier /wi/. If has a lower vowel in other Caribbean creoles as well. Compare Krio /Ef/, Jamaican /ef, efn/, Miskito Coast Creole /ef/ etc.

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531

Mix must derive from an unrecorded EModE form /*m√ks/. In ME we do have a rounding of /
C/ to /uC/ after /w/, and in isolated words after /b/ as well as before /m/ (Dobson 1957). A possible parallel for this form is found in Cameroonian Pidgin /bç¤ks/. 3.1.2. DRESS DRESS words with ME /eD/, and to some extent /E˘/, are represented in Suriname cre-

oles by English words like neck, bed, egg, bread, dead, head, any, bury, ready, etc. The /E˘/ words are generally spelt ea. The normal representation of these differs in the various languages, although the phonemic symbol /e/ is traditionally used in all of them. In Sranan /e/ is usually [E3 ~ I4] for instance. In Ndyuka /e/ is normally [e ~ E], and in Saramaccan /e, E/ are usually [e, E] respectively. /E/ is employed largely in Saramaccan in these words in combination with an anaptyctic vowel /-E/. Table 3. The DRESS set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

bed

be=di

be=di

∫e=Îi

bread

bre=de

bee=le

∫E=E

dead

de=de

de=de

Î=ÎE

yesterday

e=srede, e=sde

e=s
=de

e=siÎe

gentle

ge=ndri, dje=ndri

dje=nde=e

dj=ndE

beg

be=gi

be=gi

be=gi

remember

me=mre

me=mbe=e

m=mbE

wench

we=Nke, we=ntje

-

w=ndjE

A number of words that belong to this incidence set in RP and AmE have different realizations in the Suriname creoles. Table 4.

DRESS words with deviant realizations

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

heavy

(e=bi)

(e=bi),
=bi

(he=Ei)

every


=bri


=b
=i

(h)
=bi

any-


=niwan


=ni

(h)
=niwa=n

egg(s)

(e=ksi)


=gi

-

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Norval Smith and Vinije Haabo

Smith (1987) states: “According to Dobson (1957) raising of /e/ to /i/ is a fairly common process in the fifteenth or sixteenth century in the South-east. In the seventeenth century ships’ logs we find frequent examples of this raising, e.g. chists ‘chests’. Matthews (1938) provides many examples from Cockney including chistes (1553).” 3.1.3. TRAP TRAP words with ME /aC/ are represented in Suriname creoles by English words

like cat, back, have, ants, thank, arrow, etc. The normal realization of these words in the Suriname creoles is as a short low centralized vowel. The anaptyctic vowel here seems to be normally sensitive to the nature of the final consonant: (5)

Organic aP aT aK

Anaptyctic u i a

Table 5. The TRAP set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

fat

fa=tu

fa=tu

fa=tu

back

ba=ka

ba=ka

∫a=ka

ask

a=ksi

a=k
=si

(h)a=k
=si

cabbage

ka=bisi

tja=b
=si

tja=b
=si

carry

tja=(ri)

tja=i

tja=

garden

dja=ri

dja=li

dja=i

candle

ka=ndra

ka=nda=a

ka=nda

ashes

as
=si

as
=si

-

The metathesis of /sk/ removes ask from the ambit of the BATH words. Cabbage was also earlier /tja=bisi/ in Sranan. A number of words that belong to this incidence set in RP and AmE have different realizations in the Suriname creoles.

Suriname creoles: phonology

Table 6.

533

TRAP words with deviant realizations

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

catch

k
=si

k
=si

k
=si

hang

(a=Na), hengi (1783) e=Nge

h=Ngi

Catch is widely realized with a mid vowel in other creoles, as well as in many English and American dialects: Jamaican /k(j)et/, Guyanese /ket/, etc. Further, a form [kIt] is found in a number of places in S. and E. England. The raising of the vowel of hang is present in the modern dialects around London, and had taken place by the seventeenth century in Cockney (Matthews 1938). 3.1.4. LOT LOT words with ME /oC/ are represented in Suriname creoles by English words like

stop, pot, box, wasp, watch, dog, etc. The normal realization of these words in the Suriname Creoles is [a], a short low retracted front vowel. Table 7. The LOT set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

dog

da=gu

da=gu

da=gu

hog

a=gu

a=gu

ha=gu

god

ga=do

ga=du

ga=Îu

wasp

waswa=si

wasiwa=si

wasiwa=si

yonder

ja=na

a=nda

strong

tra=Na

taa=Nga

stop

ta=pu

ta=pu

bottle

ba=tra

ba=ta=a

taa=Nga ∫a=ta

3.1.5. STRUT STRUT words with ME /uC/ which developed to EModE /√/ are represented in Suri-

name creoles by English words like cut, jug, run, love, rub, money, enough, country, etc. The main realization of this set of words is with /o, ç/. It is fairly clear that there must have been a Proto-Suriname-Creole vowel phoneme /*√/ which could be responsible for these /o, ç/-reflexes. We claim this be-

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Norval Smith and Vinije Haabo

cause of the usual distribution of the anaptyctic vowels, which is different from other items with mid rounded organic vowels: (6) Organic oP oT oK

Anaptyctic u i o

Table 8. The STRUT set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

cut

ko=ti

ko=ti

ko=ti

gutter

go=tro

go=to=o

(N)gç¤tç

jug

djo=go

djo=go

djo=gu

ugly

o=gri

o=g
=i

(w/h)o=gi

rub

lo=bi

lo=bi

loEi

bubby

bo=bi

bo=bi

Eo=Ei

enough

no=fo

no=fo

-

gun

gon

go=ni

go=ni

A minority of words that belong to this incidence set in RP and AmE have the phoneme /a/ in the Suriname creoles.

Table 9.

STRUT words with /a/

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

suppertime

sapate=n

sapaten

sa=pate(n)

brother

bra=da, bra=ra

baa=la

∫aa=a

tother

tra

taa=

one

wan

wa=n

wa=n

sun

(son)

sa=n

(so=nu)

hungry

a=Nri

aNg
=i

ha=Ngi

someone

(s(u=)ma)

sama=

-

something

san(
=)

sa=n(i)

(son(d)
=)

-

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535

The causation of this /a/-variant is not obvious. Possibly this is supportive of the hypothetical Proto-Suriname-Creole vowel phoneme /*√/ referred to above. Another group of deviant items in the Suriname creoles go together with the FOOT set of words and will be dealt with there. 3.1.6. FOOT FOOT words with ME /uC/ preserved in EModE are represented in Suriname cre-

oles by English words like bush, full, cushion, look, cook, wood, woman, etc. The normal realization of these u- words in the Suriname creoles is [u], a short high back rounded vowel. The split between the STRUT set and the FOOT set is at least partially phonologically conditioned in EModE, the latter class having a concentration of items with initial labials and, to a lesser extent, with postvocalic /k/. Table 10. The FOOT set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

foot

fu=tu

fu=tu

fu=tu

book

bu=ku

bu=ku

∫u=ku

hook

u=ku

(h)u=ku

hu=ku

look

lu=ku

lu=ku

lu=ku

crooked

kru=ktu

ku=ku=tu

kuuku=tu, ku=ku=tu

wood

u=du

u=du

(h)u=Îu

full

fu=ru

fu=u

fu=u

pull

pu=ru

pu=u

pu=u

cushion

ku=nsu

ku=nsu

ku=nsu

The odd word that belongs to this incidence set in RP and AmE has the phoneme /o/ in the Suriname creoles. However, as we will shortly see, the exceptions in the other direction are more numerous. Table 11. FOOT words with /o/

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

put

po=ti

po=ti

Saramaccan -

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Norval Smith and Vinije Haabo

The fact that a number of words where Standard English has /√/ have /u/ in the Suriname creoles has to be seen in connection with the fact that the change in Standard English (of London) is first evidenced around 1640 (Dobson 1957). It was just after this that Suriname was colonized. The following words have unexpected /u/. Table 12. Words with unexpected /u/

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

must

mu=su

mu=su

mu=su

too much

(tu=msi)

(tu=m
=si)

tu=mu=si

thrust

tru=su

(too=si)

tuu=si

drunk

dru=Nu

duu=Ngu

(dçç¤Ngç)

sunk

su=Nu

su=Ngu

blood

bru=du

buu=lu

∫uu=u

flood

fru=du

fuu=lu

(foo=o, foo=u)

just now

(djo=nsro)

(djo=nso)

dju=nsu

-

Note that four of the words exhibit variation between /u/ and /o, ç/ among the languages, suggesting the presence of variable pronunciations in the seventeenth century. 3.1.7. BATH There is no sign of a separate BATH set as distinct from the TRAP set. This is not unexpected given that the TRAP-BATH split only occurred in the eighteenth century (Wells 1982: 134). Examples of BATH words in the Suriname creoles are: Table 13. The BATH set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

paths

pa=si

pa=si

pa=si

fasten

fa=si

fa=si

-

master

ma=sra

ma=sa=a

nasty

na=si

-

na=si

half

a=fu

a=fu

ha=fu

laugh

la=fu

la=fu

la=fu

ma=sa

Suriname creoles: phonology

537

3.1.8. CLOTH There is no sign of a separate CLOTH set as distinct from the LOT set. Once again this is not so surprising given that the LOT-CLOTH split occurred in the seventeenth century. Examples of CLOTH words in the Suriname creoles are: Table 14. The CLOTH set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

cross (v.)

kra=si

kaa=si

lost

la=si

la=si

la=si

softly

sa=afri

sa=fili, saa=fi

sa=a=pi

soft

sa=fu

sa=fu

-

-

3.1.9. NURSE With NURSE words, as with the other /r/-sets, we have clearly to take account of /r/-less as well as /r/-ful dialects. Where /r/ is preconsonantal, we cannot distinguish with complete confidence between an early /r/-deletion, mainly affecting sibilants but also to a lesser extent other coronals, which had taken place before the sixteenth century (Wells 1982: 222), and the later general 18th century loss of /r/ in word-final and preconsonantal environments. The fact remains that pre-consonantal loss is only evidenced before coronal sounds. Firstly, /r/-less forms: Table 15. /r/-less NURSE words

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

hurt

a=ti

a=ti

(h)a=ti

curse

ko=si

ko=si

ko=si

first

fo=si

fo=si

fo=su

dirt

do=ti

do=ti

do=ti

curtsey

ko=si

-

-

The same vaccilation between /o/ and /a/ as in the STRUT set appears here. And secondly, /r/-full forms:

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Norval Smith and Vinije Haabo

Table 16. /r/-full NURSE words

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

burn

bron

boo=n

boo=nu

turn

tron

too=n

too=n

work

wro=ko

woo=ko

woo=ko

3.1.10. FLEECE The FLEECE set of words, corresponding to ME /e˘/ and /E˘/, is represented in Suriname creoles by the English words meet, teeth, speak, leave, sweet, feel, believe, field, and so on. The normal realization of these words in the Suriname creoles is [i], a short high front vowel. In other words this set has fallen together with the KIT set. Table 17. The FLEECE set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

meet

m
=ti

m
=ti

m
=ti

speak

p
=ki

p
=ki

p
=ki

creek

kr
=ki

ki
=ki

ki
=ki

week

w
=ki

w
=ki

w
=ki

sleep

sr
=bi

si
=bi

-

heap


=pi

(h)
=pi

(h)
=pi

seed

s
=ri

s
=i

s
=i

greedy

gr
=di

gi
=li

gi
=i

A feature of the Suriname creoles is the membership of an unexpectedly large number of ME /E˘/ words in the FACE set. We will give these in the next section. 3.1.11. FACE The FACE set words, corresponding to ME /ai/, /a˘/, and to a certain extent /E˘/, is represented in Suriname creoles by words derived from Early Modern English. When followed by a consonant this set is indistinguishable from the DRESS set.

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539

Table 18. The FACE set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

make

me=ki

me=ke

mbe=i

take

te=ki

te=ke

te=i

shake

se=ki

se=ke

se=ki

snake

sne=ki

sine=ki

sinde=ki

afraid

fre=de

fee=le

fE=E

eight

a=jti

a=iti(n)

a=iti

payment

pa=jman

-

paima=

When this vowel occurs word-finally it is often diphthongized. The occurrence of a semi-vowel in Sranan or a diphthongal element in Ndyuka is unforecastable. Very exceptionally, we also see two words in the above table whose forms seem to preserve diphthongs word-internally. Table 19. The FACE set in word-final position

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

day

dej

de=i

-

today

tide=

tide=

tiÎe=

play

prej

pee=

pay

paj

pa=i

pE= -

clay

klej (obs.)

kele=i (< Sranan)

-

Words that normally belong to the FLEECE set include: Table 20.

FLEECE at FACE value

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

meat

me=ti

me=ti

mbe=ti

peas(e)

pe=si

pe=si

pe=si

beam

-

-

∫e=n

dream

dren

dee=n

-

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Norval Smith and Vinije Haabo

Some words that should normally belong to the FACE set in fact belong to the FLEECE set.

Table 21.

FACE at FLEECE value

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

grate

gr
=ti

gi
=ti

wake

w
=ki

(we=ki)

Saramaccan (we=ki)

3.1.12. PALM There are no items belonging to the PALM set in the Suriname creoles. 3.1.13. THOUGHT In EModE /au/ gave [Å˘] by the mid-seventeenth century, by which time the LOTwords had [Å]. The neutralization of length in Suriname would nullify this distinction. So this set falls together with the LOT set as /a/ in Suriname. Examples of THOUGHT words in the Suriname creoles are the following; Table 22. The THOUGHT set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

saw

sa

sa=

sa=n

talk

ta=ki

ta=ki

ta=ki

walk

wa=ka

wa=ka

wa=ka

bawl

ba=ri

ba=li

∫a=i

call

ka=ri

ka=i

ka=i

haul

a=ri

(h)a=li

ha=i

The nasal vowel in /sa=n/ probably reflects the influence of Gun /sa=n/ ‘to cut’. 3.1.14. GOAT The GOAT set of words, corresponding to ME /ç˘/ and /ou/, is represented in Suriname creoles by the English words grow, blow, bow, hold, broke, smoke, soap, clothes, and so on. The normal realization of these words in the Suriname creoles is [o/ç], a short round mid back vowel. When word-final, a diphthongal realization /ow/ is also possible.

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541

Table 23. The GOAT set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

bow

bo

bo=

∫ç¤

blow

bro

boo=

∫çç¤

go

go

go=

go=

grow

gro

goo=

gçç¤

tow

tow

to=u

-

broke

bro=ko

boo=ko

∫oo=ko

locust tree

lo=ksi

lo=k
=si

lo=k
=si

soap

so=po

so=pu

so=pu

toad

to=do

to=do

tç¤Îç

clothes

kro=si

koo=si

koo=su

Occasionally a vowel /u/ appears in Saramaccan. Table 24.

GOAT words with exceptional realizations

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

nose

(no=so)

(no=su)

nu=su

smoke

(smo=ko)

(somo=ko)

sumu=ku

Dobson (1957: 674) does mention an occasional raising in ME of /ç˘/ to /o˘/ which would give /u/ in EModE: “The raising is not characteristic of Standard English but seems to have been common in Northern and Eastern dialects; but it made its way early into London English, in which it was found chiefly in vulgar but occasionally in educated speech.” Confusingly, in eighteenth century Saramaccan (Schumann 1778) we find smoko but nusso. Unusually, for over we have a reflex of the stressed vowel in /a/. Table 25.

Over

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

over

a=bra

a=ba=a

a=∫a

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Norval Smith and Vinije Haabo

This presumably goes back to the form /çv´r/ recorded by orthoepists (Dobson 1957: 482) in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. This would naturally give /a/. The words old and cold display deviant reflexes in the Suriname creoles, even when compared with words like hold. The reflex is the same as in fowl. Table 26.

GOAT words with deviant reflexes before liquids

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

old

owru

o=lo, ha=u (< Dutch?)

awoo

cold

kowru

ko=o

-

hold

o=ri

(h)o=li

ho=i

fowl

fowru

fo=o

fou, fo=o

Older recordings such as Van Dyk (ca. 1765) reveal that words like old were originally trisyllabic – ouwere for [o=wuru]. Dobson (1957: 691) infers from the EModE evidence that /ç˘/ sometimes became /u˘/ before /l/, with a subsequent diphthongization to /√u/ (> /au/), i.e. it joined the MOUTH set. Wells (1982: 312) sees rather an allophonic development before /l/ of London /√u/ (=EModE /o˘/, the GOAT set), to [ÅU ~ çU ~ aF], etc. This has subsequently been involved in a phonemic split. We will not dwell further on this. 3.1.15. GOOSE The GOOSE set of words, corresponding to ME /o˘/, is represented in Suriname creoles by the English words shoot, spook, loose, spoon, fool, too, lose, do, two, and so on. The normal realization of these words in the Suriname creoles is [u], a short high back round vowel. Because of the lack of a length distinction this means that there is no contrast with the FOOT set. Table 27. The GOOSE set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

do

du

du=

Îu=

too

tu

tu=

tu

two

tu

tu=

tu=

true

tru

tuu=

tuu=

shoot

su=tu

su=tu

su=ti

Suriname creoles: phonology

543

Table 27. (continued) The GOOSE set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

play fool

prejfu=ru

-

peevu=

loose

lu=su

-

lu=su

spoon

spun

supu=n

-

root

lu=tu

lu=tu

lu=tu

The following derive from original /eu, iu/. Table 28.

GOOSE words with original /eu, iu/

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

Jew

dju

dju=

dju=

new

njun

nju=n

nju=n

usen (=used) to

nju=su

-

(n)ju=(n)su

3.1.16. PRICE The PRICE set of words, corresponding to ME /i˘/, is represented in Suriname creoles by the English words eye, cry, fly, tie, fight, night, white, ripe, wife, knife, time, find, and so on. The normal realization of these words in the Suriname creoles is [e], a short mid front vowel. This set falls together with the FACE and DRESS sets. Table 29. The PRICE set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

fight

fe=ti

fe=ti

fe=ti

night

ne=ti

ne=ti

nde=ti

right

le=ti

le=ti

le=ti

white

we=ti

we=ti

we=ti

ripe

le=pi

le=pi

le=pi

knife

ne=fi

ne=fi

-nde=fi

time

ten

te=n

te=(n)

find

fe=ni

fe=nde

fe=n(d)i

When the vowel is word-final we find variation between /e, ej, aj/ as in the FACE set.

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Norval Smith and Vinije Haabo

Table 30. The PRICE set word-finally

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

buy

baj

ba=i

∫a=i

cry

krej

kee=

kE=

dry

drej

dee=

dE=

high

ej

e=i

he=i

tie

taj

te=i

ta=i

3.1.17. CHOICE The CHOICE set of words, corresponding to ME /çi, i /, is represented in Suriname creoles by words derived from Early Modern English boy, boil (n.), boil (v.), and spoil. According to Dobson (1957) the /çi/ found in modern Standard English is derived from one ME variant, alternating in many words with /Ui/ which later became /ai/ (< /´i/) in advanced pronunciation in EModE. Table 31. The CHOICE set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

boy

boj

bo=i

-

boil (v.)

bo=ri

bo=li

∫o=i

boil (n.)

-

-

∫o=i

po=ri

po=li

po=i

spoil

Saramaccan

The forms for boy are not (necessarily) problematic, but those for the other three words are. The reason is the unusual combination of organic and anaptyctic vowels here. Usually, features of the organic vowel are repeated in the anaptyctic vowel: (7)

Organic i e E ç o u

Anaptyctic i e, i  ç o, u u

or, as in the case of low vowels, the final consonant plays a role:

Suriname creoles: phonology

(8)

Organic aP (a > >

u o o

Further, in these cases the comparison drawn with Krio and Jamaican by Smith (1987) is illuminating: Table 32.

CHOICE words in Jamaican, Krio, and Suriname

English

Jamaican

Krio

Suriname creoles

boy

bwaj

boj

boj

boil (v.)

bwajl

bwEl

*bo=li

spoil

pwajl

pwEl

*po=li

546

Norval Smith and Vinije Haabo

If the diphthongs in the cases with codas were preceded historically by a situation like that in Krio, then the anaptyctic front vowels can be explained. This is then due to the organic front vowel present. Note that Krio, like the Suriname creoles, systematically compresses pre-coda diphthongs /ai, au/ into single vowels. We could then imagine a derivational path as follows: (10)

boy boil spoil

(bwai) bwail pwail

> >

*bwel *pwel

> >

*bwe=li *pwe=li

> > >

boi bo=li po=li

Where does this vocalic structure /wai/ come from? Presumably from EME /Ui/. On the evidence of Wright (1905) [wai] and [w´i] only occur after labials. Dobson (1957: 825) compares the retention of /Ui/ here to the parallel tendency to retain /U/ after labials. The intermediate stages he posits are of lesser interest so we will ignore Dobson’s further discussion here. 3.1.18. MOUTH The MOUTH set of words, corresponding to ME /u˘/, is represented in Suriname creoles by the English words proud, house, louse, mouth, cow and so on. The normal realization of these words in the Suriname creoles is [o], a short high back round vowel. This set falls together with the GOAT set. There is only one vowelfinal case, varying between /ow/ in Sranan and /au/ in Ndyuka. Table 33. The MOUTH set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

proud

pro=do

poo=lo

poo=lo

louse

lo=so

lo=su

lo=su

house

o=so

o=su

(w)o=su

cow

kow

ka=u

ka=u

ground

gron

goo=n

goo=n, gou=n

3.1.19. NEAR The NEAR set of words, corresponding to ME /e˘/ and /˘/ before /r/, is represented in the Suriname creoles by words like deer, here, overseer, beard.

Suriname creoles: phonology

547

Table 34. The NEAR set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

deer

d
=a

d
=(j)a

-

here

dja ( older d
=a, h
=a)

ja=

-

overseer

basja=

bas
=a

-

-

beard

Saramaccan

∫asi(j)a= ∫
=(j)a

3.1.20. SQUARE The SQUARE set of words, corresponding to ME /˘/ and /a˘/ before /r/, is represented in the Suriname creoles by such words as square, care, wear, swear, there. Unlike in the case of the front high vowel we clearly have two different developments with regard to /r/. In some cases it is retained, and in others it is not. Hare shows a peculiar vowel development, which we will discuss together with shear immediately below. Table 35. /r/-less SQUARE words

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

there

de

de=

Î=@

care

ke

-

-

hare

ej

he=

-

Table 36. /r/-full SQUARE words

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

square

kwe=ri

kwe=li

kwe=i

wear

we=ri

we=i

-

Just as with the FLEECE set of words, there are also words with ME /˘/ that in standard English are in the NEAR class but show a different development in the Suriname creoles. Table 37. /r/-less SQUARE words with NEAR set vowels

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

ears

je=si

je=si

je=si

shear (share)

sise=j, sese=j

sese=i

sese=i

548

Norval Smith and Vinije Haabo

Table 38. /r/-full SQUARE words with NEAR set vowels

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

hear

je=re

je=e

je=i

weary

we=ri

we=li

we=i

Shear and hare show the same development in the vowel, neither a lowering diphthong nor a monophthong as might be expected, but a raising diphthong. What is the source of this? Smith (1987: 335–336) provides a long technical discussion, the conclusion of which is that we may be able to see a distinction between disyllabic and monosyllabic /r/-less vowel reflexes here. (11) disyllabic

monosyllabic

Model ai´ au´/ u´ i˘´ u˘´ ´ ç´ I´

Suriname a=ja o=wa
=(j)a u=wa e/ o/ç ej

Similar reflexes such as [I´] are actually encountered in words like hair in Southern England, and something similar is recorded for Cockney. 3.1.21. START The START set of words, corresponding mostly to ME /a/ before /r/, is represented in the Suriname creoles by such words as arse, garden, far, tar, yard, sharp, and shark. Here /r/ is mostly retained. We have one case of early loss (heart) and one case (arse) where metathesis uniquely occurs in a vowel-initial word. Note however that this is parallelled by Jamaican /raas/ and similar forms in other Caribbean creoles. Table 39. /r/-less START words

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

heart

a=ti

a=ti

(h)a=ti

arse

la=si

la=si

-

Suriname creoles: phonology

549

Table 40. /r/-full START words

English

Sranan

bargain

ba=rki

garden

dja=ri

“parmacety” (spermacety)

Ndyuka

Saramaccan -

dja=li

dja=i

pramase=ti

-

-

crowbar

kruba=ri

-

far

fa=ra

fa=a

-

star

sta=ri

sita=li

-

tar

ta=ra

ta=a

yard

ja=ri

sharp

sra=pu

saa=pu

saa=pu

hark

a=rki

a=l
=ki

(h)a
=ka

shark

sa=rki

sa=liki

ku(lu)ba=li (< Sranan)

ta=a, ta=la -

-

3.1.22. FORCE In FORCE words we see three developments: the reflex of possible early pre-consonantal loss in fort, final loss in four and before, and preservation in more, sore, door etc. Table 41. /r/-less FORCE words

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

before

bifo=(si)

bifo=

∫ifç¤

four

fo

fo=

fç¤

poor thing

po=oti

poo=ti

poot
=ma

gourd

go=do

go=o, go=du

go=lu

fort

fo=to

fo=to

fo=to

550

Norval Smith and Vinije Haabo

Table 42. /r/-full FORCE words

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

more

mo=ro

mo=o

mç¤ç

sore

so=ro

so=o

-

door

do=ro

fo=o

dç¤ç

shore

So=ro

so=o

-

story

to=ri

to=li

-

3.1.23. NORTH As we can see the contrast between FORCE words and NORTH words – derived from ME /oC/ before /r – is maintained. Once again we have the two options with ME short vowels preceding /r/ of possible early pre-consonantal loss and maintenance of /r/. Table 43. /r/-less NORTH words

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

short

Sa=tu

sa=tu

sa=ti

mortar

ma=ta

ma=ta

ma=ta

horse

a=si

a=si

ha=si

Table 44. /r/-full NORTH words

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

corn

ka=ru

ka=lu

ka=lu

man o’war

manwa=ri

-

-

3.1.24. CURE There is only one clear case of /u˘/ preceding /r/. And this is a non-standard case of a word which would more normally belong to the FORCE set. There are also two possible cases of retention of ME /u˘/, i.e. non-shifting of this to a diphthongal reflex. However, as the developments are not clear, and also involve forms which do show a development to a diphthong, we will deal with these cases when we discuss the POWER set.

Suriname creoles: phonology

551

Table 45. The CURE set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

court

kru=tu

kuu=tu

kuu=tu

For an opposite case compare Table 11 above. 3.1.25. FIRE The FIRE set of words is very small, but does show two interesting forms (deriving from ME /i/ before /r/). The one is an example of /r/-loss finally, while the other must derive, because of the double vowel in Ndyuka, from an intermediate structure like /*a=jeren/. Something resembling the r-full standard pronunciation variant /ai´rn/ must lie behind this form. As far as the /e/-colour of the vowels is concerned, we may see a parallel in the non-rhotic Krio /ajEn/. Table 46. /r/-full FIRE words

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

fire

fa=ja

fa=ja

fa=ja

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

Table 47. /r/-less FIRE words

English iron

Sranan -

a=jee

-

3.1.26. POWER We have few examples of the POWER set. We assume the /ow/ alternants represent the shifted reflex of ME /u˘/. The /u(w)/ variants are either non-shifted high vowel reflexes, or later assimilations of /ow/ to /uw/. Table 48. The POWER set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

flour

frowa, fru=wa

foo=wa

-

sour

s(u)wa

su=(w)a

so=wa

552

Norval Smith and Vinije Haabo

3.1.27. happY The happY set has two main reflexes. After mid vowels we get frequent assimilation to /e, E/, and in other cases we get /i/. Words illustrating this set include ready, heavy, busy, bury, sorry, money, curtsey. Table 49. The happY set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

greedy

gr
=di

gi
=li

gi
=i

already

are=de

-

-

hungry

a=Nri

a=Ng
=i

ha=Ngi

every


=bri


=b
=i

(h)
=bi

country

ko=ndre

ko=nde=e

kç¤ndE

ugly

o=gri

o=g
=i

(w/h)o=gi

belly

be=re

be=e

∫=E

3.1.28. horsES This set was added to cover the vowel used in the plural forms of nouns, etc. However, as plurals, etc. are not formed in this way in the Suriname creoles the only cases of such a vowel found are two cases of obsolete lexicalized plurals of nouns ending in sibilants: ashes, peases. This second form is a plural of pease. The form peas(e) ‘pea’ also exists in the modern languages, but with a different development of the vowel: /pe=si/. Table 50. The horsES set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

peases (sic)

pisis (?) (1783)

-

pisis (1778)

ashes

a=sisi

a=s
=si

-

3.1.29. lettER This set also involves an /r/-final variant and an /r/-less one in Sranan. There does not seem to be any conditioning involved. The /r/-less variant replaces /-´r/ with /-a/. The /r/-full variant has a final vowel that echoes the previous vowel. Words illustrating this set include: river, bitter and gutter.

Suriname creoles: phonology

553

It is clear from older forms that the original starting-point for a word like /ma=sra/ was a form like /*ma=sara/. To reach the modern forms we had syncope in Sranan, /r/ > /l/, followed by liquid-loss in Ndyuka, and probably a further reduction of final /v@v/ to /v/ in Saramaccan, which maintains the distinction between the two sets. Table 51. /r/-less lettER words

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

river

l
=ba

l
=ba

-

bitter

b
=ta

b
=ta

∫
=ta

finger

f
=Na

f
=Nga

f
=Nga

sister

s
=sa

s
=sa

s
=sa

brother

bra=da, bra=ra

baa=la

∫aa=a

Table 52. /r/-full lettER words

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

remember

me=mre

me=mbe=e

m=mbE

master

ma=sra

ma=sa=a

ma=sa

gutter

go=tro

go=to=o

Ngç¤tç

cover

k
=bri

k
=b
=i

-

over

a=bra

aba=a

a=∫a

3.1.30. commA The commA set in the Suriname creoles largely comprises words ending in -o(w) in Standard English. In substandard accents this frequently becomes /-´/. Table 53. The commA set

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

narrow

na=ra

-

-

yellow-

jara-

jaa-

-

tomorrow

tama=ra

tama=a

-

mosquito

mask
=ta

makis
=ta

-

554

Norval Smith and Vinije Haabo

3.1.31. rottEN The rottEN set has two types of reflex in the Suriname creoles. One set has the reflex /-i(n)/. This is shared by other creoles in the Atlantic area like Krio, which is fairly similar to the Suriname creoles in various respects. Table 54. rottEN words in /-in/

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

bargain

ba=rki

-

-

rotten

rat
=n

-

-

fashion

fa=si

fa=si

fa=si

fasten

fa=si

fa=si

-

garden

dja=ri

dja=li

dja=i

The other involves a repetition of the main vowel of the preceding syllable. Table 55. rottEN words with echo vowels

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

open

o=po

o=bo

cotton-

ka=nkan- (kattan- 1783)

-

kankan- (kattan- 1783)

ju=nsu

-

ju=nsu

“usen” (used) cushion

ku=nsu

payment

pajma=n

ku=nsu

Saramaccan -

ku=nsu paima=

The two above reflexes also occur with -ing items. Table 56.

-ing words

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

pudding

pudun (1856)

-

-

herring

ele=n

-

-

cunning

ko=ni

ko=ni

kç¤ni

dumpling

ado=mpri

do=m
=i

-

Suriname creoles: phonology

555

3.1.32. Neutralizations of the Wells sets The following are the neutralizations of the Wells stressed vowel sets observed in the Suriname creoles: (12) KIT = FLEECE DRESS = FACE = SQUARE = PRICE TRAP = LOT = BATH = CLOTH = THOUGHT = START = NORTH STRUT = NURSE = CHOICE GOAT = FORCE = MOUTH FOOT = GOOSE = CURE

3.2.

Consonantal specifics

We will restrict ourselves to mentioning the most significant deviations from Standard English consonantal values. 3.2.1. Reflections of non-standard consonantism 3.2.1.1. Palatalization of velars before /a/ The pronunciation of /#k, #g/ as [kj, gj] before /a/ had a brief vogue in standard forms of English in the seventeenth century. It still occurs in a recessive form in scattered dialects in England, and is also frequent in English-lexifier creoles in the Caribbean. As far as London English is concerned, the Survey of English Dialects recorded it for Cockney in Hackney, E. London in the word cabbage: [kjæbIdZ]. Table 57.

English cat

Palatalization of velars before /a/

Sranan -

Ndyuka ka=ti

Saramaccan -tja=ti

cabbage

ka=bisi (earlier kja=bbisi, tjabbisi)

tja=b=si

tja=bsi

carry

tja=(ri)

tja=i

tja=

cast-net

tjasne=ti

-

-

candle

ka=ndra

ka=nda=a

ka=nda

garden

dja=ri

dja=li

dja=i

braggard

bradja=ri

-

-

556

Norval Smith and Vinije Haabo

The further change of /kja, gja/ to /tSa, dZa/ can be associated with a change in the substrate. See section 3.2.2.6. below. 3.2.1.2. Preservation, loss, and insertion of /h/ In modern Sranan [h] at the beginning of words is a mark of emphasis. However up till the 19th century /h/ was a phoneme of Sranan. It also occurs optionally in Ndyuka and Saramaccan at the present. There is a set of words in the Suriname creoles that may begin (or in the case of Sranan, began) with /h/, and another set that always begins with a vowel. These do not however agree with the corresponding sets in English. Table 58.

Preservation, loss, and insertion of /h/

English

Sranan

Sranan 1855

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

hunt

o=nti

ho=nti

(h)o=nti

(h)ç¤ndi

heap


=pi

h
=pi

(h)
=pi

(h)
=pi

eight

a=jti

a
=ti

a
=ti(n)

a=
=ti

axe

a=ksi

a=ksi

ak
=si

-

Indian


=Ni

ie=ngi


=Ng
=i


=Ngi

ask

a=ksi

(h)a=ksi

a=k
=si

(h)a=k
=si

ugly

o=gri

(h)o=gri

o=g
=i

(h)o=gi

The answer to the question how this state of affairs could come about must lie in the presence of a mixture of /h/-less and /h/-full dialects. Cockney, for example, is like most Southern and Midland dialects in not having initial /h/. However, Cockney is famous for optionally inserting an [h] before vowel-initial words. The statistical connection between /h/-initial words in Standard English and those in the Suriname creoles must be explained by a basic Standard English heritage. On the other hand, the occurrence of /h/ in non-/h/-inital words must reflect the influence of a Cockney-like dialect. There are no /h/-words in Standard English that lack an /h/ completely in all Suriname creoles, a fact which argues for a greater degree of standard than sub-standard influence.

Suriname creoles: phonology

557

3.2.2. Substrate features of African origin 3.2.2.1. Implosives A feature of Saramaccan that escaped notice until quite recently was the fact that it distinguished plain voiced /b, d/ phonemes from implosive voiced /∫, Î/. This was first described in Haabo (2000), and is clearly an African feature. The distribution of plain and implosive stops over the sets of words of different origins is interesting, but has yet to be fully explained. Some examples follow: Table 59.

Examples of implosive voiced stops

English

Saramaccan

bottle

∫a=ta

heavy

he=∫i

dead

Î=ÎE

toad

tç¤Îç

Table 60.

Examples of plain voiced stops

English

Saramaccan

cabbage

tja=b
=si

every

(h)
=bi

burn

boo=nu

paddle

pa=da

drum

do=un

doctor

da=ta

devil

did
=∫i

English-derived items with plain /b/ are very rare. Voiced stops in nasal clusters are however always plain. This also applies in Ndyuka where voiced stops /b, d/ are otherwise normally pronounced as implosives [∫, Î]. There is no phonemic contrast in Ndyuka, however. 3.2.2.2. Tones Ndyuka and Saramaccan (but not present-day Sranan) are clear tone languages. In words of English origin the English stress accent virtually always corresponds

558

Norval Smith and Vinije Haabo

to a high tone. Many examples have already been given in the text so we will not give any more here. 3.2.2.3. Final nasals The subject of the developments undergone by the word-final nasals in the Suriname creoles is a complex one. We will merely mention here that all three languages allow for a final /VN/ combination to be pronounced as a nasalized vowel, as in one of the substrate groups – the Gbe languages. However, from a phonological point of view there is a lot to be said for analysing these as underlying sequences in all three languages. In Sranan in particular the more normal pronunciation is with a vowel (nasalized or not) followed by a velar nasal [N]. 3.2.2.4. Initial sibilant clusters The treatment of initial sibilant clusters by which the sibilant is lost is another probable substrate effect, and one that appears in other creoles too. It is also one that does not operate in new or nineteenth-century loans. As such it may provide clues as to the relative age of an element. In general, nearly all English words of this kind appearing in the Suriname creoles lose the initial sibilant. Saramaccan has very few such sibilants preserved, while Ndyuka has more, and Sranan has most of all. Words only occurring in Sranan are under suspicion of being late loans. Table 61.

Initial loss of sibilant from cluster

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

square

kwe=ri

kwe=li

kwe=i

squeeze

kw
=nsi

kw
=nsi

kw
=nji

scrape

kre=bi

kee=bi

-

skin

skin

sik
=n

sink
=i

squall

skwa=la

-

-

speak

p
=ki

p
=ki

p
=ki

spoil

po=ri

po=li

po=i

spit

sp
=ti

-

-

spoon

spun

supu=n

-

Suriname creoles: phonology

Table 61. (continued)

559

Initial loss of sibilant from cluster

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

stop

ta=pu

ta=pu

-

stand

tan

ta=n

ta=n

stink

t
=Ni

t
=Ngi

t
=Ngi

star

sta=ri

sita=li

-

stewpan

stjupan

-

-

3.2.2.5. Final consonants—vowel anaptyxis We have discussed this undoubted substrate feature—in neither the Gbe languages nor in Kikoongo are final consonants permitted—in the course of our treatment of the various vowel sets. 3.2.2.6. Palatalization of velars The velar phonemes have optional palatal/palato-alveolar realizations /tj, dj, nj/ in the Suriname creoles before front vowels. We associate this with a change of /*ki, kj/ to /tSi, tS/ in Gbe languages, Table 62.

Palatalizaton of velars

English

Sranan

skin

[skiN ~ stSiN]

catch

[k
=si ~ tS
=si]

give

[gi ~ dZi]

shark

[sA@>rki ~ sA>@rtSi]

beg

[bI@gi ~ bI@dZi]

drink

[dr
=Ni ~ dr
=¯i]

It is not strictly possible to refer to these as allophones, because of the existence of phonemic contrasts with non-front vowels.

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3.2.2.7. Palatalization of /s/ before /i/ and /w, j/ Sranan and Ndyuka exhibit another optional palatalization, this time of /s/ to /S/ before /i/ or /w/. Also /s/ and /j/ combine in onset to give /S/ in Ndyuka. This also appears to operate in Sranan across word boundaries: fos(i) júru > [fçSju=ru] ‘first hour’. We interpret the alternate forms provided by Focke (1855) as indicating the options /sj/ (si) and /S/ (sj) for the onset position as well in 19th century Sranan. Although /s/ is palatalized preceding /i, j/ in some Gbe lects, we are less certain that this change is due to substrate effects. Table 63. /S/ in Sranan and Ndyuka

English

Sranan

Sranan 1855

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

swim

swen, Swen

-

suwe=n

(su=n)

sweet

sw
=ti, Sw
=t
=

-

sw
=ti, Sw
=ti

(su=ti)

see

si, Si

-

s
=, S
=

(s
=)

sleep

sr
=bi

-

si
=bi, Si
=bi

short

Sa=tu

siättoe, sja=toe

sa=tu

(sa=ti)

shore

So=ro

sjo=ro

so=o

-

shame

Sen

siem^, sjem^

sjen, Sen

-

(se=n)

3.2.3. Innovations 3.2.3.1. /v/ > /b/ Most words of English origin in the Suriname creoles which had a /v/-sound replace this with a stop. This change is probably rather an innovation of the pidgin precursor of the Suriname creoles, since items from Gbe languages and Kikoongo which contained a /v/-sound retain this in Ndyuka and Saramaccan, and have altered this to /f/ in modern Sranan. This last appears to be a nineteenth century change, however. The same change is recessive in other English-lexifier creoles of the Atlantic region. Table 64. /v/ > /b/

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

heavy

(e=bi)

(e=bi),
=bi

(he=∫i)

every


=bri


=b
=i

(h)
=bi

Suriname creoles: phonology

Table 64. (continued)

561

/v/ > /b/

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

over

a=bra

a=ba=a

a=∫a

river

l
=ba

l
=ba

-

love

lo=bi

lo=bi

lo=∫i

3.2.3.2. // > /t, f/ The Suriname creoles display both of the most frequent replacement sounds for /T/ in English. However, the distribution is unusual. English syllable-initial /T/ goes to /t/, and English syllable-final /T/ to /f/. Note that due to anaptyxis all the realizations are syllabe-initial in the Suriname creoles. Table 65. /T/ > /t, f/

English think

Sranan -

Ndyuka -

Saramaccan ta (1778) > n
=Nga

throw away

trowe=

towe=

tu=E

thrust

tru=su

too=si

tuu=si

nothing

no=ti

poor thing

po=oti

poo=ti

teeth

t
=fi

t
=fi

-

mouth

mo=fo

mo=fu

-

broth

brafu=

baafu=

baafu

-no=ti poot
=-

3.2.3.3. // > /d, r/ There are not very many examples of items with English /D/. In a number of them a development to /d/ is observable. The item t’ other shows a development /D/ to /r/. However this is parallelled in this word by forms in other creoles such as Jamaican /ta=ra/ and Gullah /t√@R´/. Finally, the developments in Nduka (and Saramaccan) in brother are a purely internal affair of the Suriname creoles, which we will briefly discuss below.

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Table 66. /D/ > /d, r/

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

this

d
=si

d
=si

Î
=s
=

there

de

de

Î=

them

den

den

Îe=

feather

fe=da

-

-

together

tige=dre

-

-

t’other

tra (older ta=ra)

taa=

-

brother

bra=da

baa=la

∫aa=a

3.2.3.4. Liquids In general there are three Suriname-internal developments concerning liquids. Firstly, a tendency to neutralize the distinction between /l/ and /r/. In Ndyuka and Saramaccan the result is always /l/. In Sranan we see a more complex nearneutralization. “Near-neutralization”, because the process is not totally complete. Word-internally liquids go to [r], and initially to [l]. The first liquid also goes to /l/ if pre-stress, even if a vowel precedes. Secondly, a tendency to lose word-internal liquids altogether in Ndyuka and Saramaccan. In Ndyuka intervocalic liquids tend to be preserved only if the surrounding vowels are different; they are lost if the vowels are identical. Word-internal liquids are virtually always lost in Saramaccan, except in recent loanwords. Clusters were epenthesized away, followed by loss of the liquid in Ndyuka and Saramaccan. Table 67. The treatment of liquids

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

love

lo=bi

lo=bi

lo=∫i

rub

lo=bi

lo=bi

lo=∫i

rain

ale=n

ale=n

-

cully

ko=ri

ko=li

kç¤i

bury

be=ri

be=li

∫e=i

belly

be=re

be=e

∫=E

tomorrow

tama=ra

tama=a

clothes

kro=si

koo=si

koo=su

Suriname creoles: phonology

563

Table 67. (continued) The treatment of liquids

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

scratch

kra=si

kaa=si

kaa=si

middle

m
=ndri

m
=nd
=i

m
=ndi

remember

me=mre

me=mbe=e

m=mbE

The third tendency is one of liquefaction of word-internal /d/’s following earlier liquids. This is nowadays restricted to Ndyuka and Saramaccan, although in older Sranan recordings it makes a sporadic appearance. As we can see, subsequent /l/loss has virtually removed the resultant liquid in Saramaccan. Table 68. The liquefaction of /d/

English

Sranan

Ndyuka

Saramaccan

greedy

gr
=di

gi
=li

gi
=i

afraid

fre=de

fee=le

fE=E

proud

pro=do

poo=lo

(poo=lo)

brother

bra=da

baa=la

∫aa=a

broad

bra=di

baa=la

∫aa=i

blood

bru=du

buu=lu

∫uu=u

flood

fru=du

(fuu=du)

foo=o, foo=u

4.

Conclusion

The Saramaccan form /∫aa=i/ ‘broad’ just quoted illustrates by itself how far removed phonologically the Suriname creoles are from the – standard and substandard – London English on which they are ultimately based. This form begins with an African substrate-derived implosive stop. Then we have a vowel that is in origin an epenthetic vowel whose function was to break up the original liquid cluster. The liquid itself has been lost although it was still present in the 18th century. Then we have a vowel from the LOT set, but bearing a high tone. The original final /d/ was first subject to liquefaction, and then lost. Finally we have an anaptyctic vowel /-i/, whose original function was to prevent the occurrence of final consonants. The only segments corresponding directly to the original structure are the /∫/ and the /a=/, and even they are very un-English!

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Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CD-ROM. Arends, Jacques 1999 The origin of the Portuguese element in the Surinam creoles. In: Huber and Parkvall (eds.), 195–208. Carlin, Eithne and Jacques Arends (eds.) 2002 Atlas of the Languages of Suriname. Leiden: KITLV Press. Dobson, Eric J. 1957 English Pronunciation, 1500–1700. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Focke, H.C 1855 Neger-Engelsch Woordenboek. Leiden: P.H. van den Heuvell. Haabo, Vinije 2000 Fonologie van het Saramaccaans. Unpublished manuscript, University of Leiden. Matthews, W. 1935 Sailors’ pronunciation in the second half of the seventeenth century. Anglia 59: 192–251. Schumann, C.L. 1778 Saramaccan Deutsches Wörter-Buch. [MS., Moravian Brethren, Bambey, Surinam. Republished in Hugo Schuchardt, Die Sprache der Saramakkaneger in Surinam (= Verhandelingen der Koninklijke Akademie van Wetenschappen te Amsterdam, Afdeling Letterkunde Nieuwe Reeks XIV, 6). Amsterdam: Johannes Müller.] Smith, Norval S.H. 1987 The genesis of the creole languages of Surinam. D.Litt. thesis, University of Amsterdam. 1999a Pernambuco to Surinam 1654–1665. The Jewish slave controversy. In: Huber and Parkvall (eds.), 251–298. 1999b The vowel system of 18th-century St Kitts Creole: Evidence for the history of the English creoles? In: Baker and Bruyn (eds.), 145–172. 2001 Reconstructing Proto-Caribbean Pidgin English. Paper given at the Pidginfest, University of Westminster, April 2001. 2002 The history of the Surinamese creoles II: Origin and differentiation. In: Carlin and Arends (eds.), 131–151. Van den Berg, Margot 2000 “Mi no sal tron tongo”. Early Sranan in court records 1667–1767. MA thesis, University of Nijmegen. Van Dyk, P. ca. 1765 Nieuwe en nooit bevoorens geziene Onderwyzinge in het Bastert Engels, of Neeger Engels, zoo als het zelve in de Hollandsze Colonien gebruikt word (...). Amsterdam: Jacobus van Egmont. [Republished with an English translation in Jacques Arends and Matthias Perl (eds.), 1995. Early Suriname Creole Texts: A Collection of 18th-century Sranan and Saramaccan Documents (= Bibliotheca Ibero-Americana 49). Frankfurt am Main/Madrid: Vervuert Verlag/Iberoamericana, 93–242.]

Introduction: varieties of English in the Pacific and Australasia* Kate Burridge and Bernd Kortmann

1.

A note on geographical coverage

This part of the Handbook provides linguistic sketches of the most significant Englishes currently spoken in the Pacific (on islands between the American continents, Asia and Australia) and Australasia (in Australia and New Zealand and on neighbouring islands of the South Pacific Ocean). These sketches cover a range of the different variety types (including both native and contact varieties) that have evolved as a consequence of the spread of English into these regions. Even though the Hawaiian Islands are politically part of the United States, and have been since 1958, they are included in this volume on account of their geographical location in the northern Pacific, and the special linguistic relationship with other Pacific rather than North American varieties.

2.

Australian and New Zealand English

Both Australia and New Zealand have in common a relatively recent history of European settlement and both share transplanted Englishes. Towards the end of the 18th century, the population of the British Isles was only about 15 million. A considerable number of these people spoke their own Celtic languages and little or no English. Moreover, a good many of the English speakers spoke only their regional dialects and dialect differences could be striking – we are after all talking of a time when horses and sailing vessels were the most efficient means of travel and communication. This then was roughly the state of the language when exploration southwards established the first English-speaking settlements in the Antipodes. For Australia, the first appearance of English coincides with the arrival of Captain Cook in 1770. However, it wasn’t until later in 1788 that we can really talk about a European settlement there. Over the course of the next 20 years or so Britain established its first penal colony in Sydney in order to alleviate the problem of its overcrowded prisons. The early arrivals were therefore largely prisoners, prison officers and their families. Non-convicts, or free settlers as they were known, did not really reach significant numbers until the middle of the 19th century. On the other side of the Tasman, English got off to a later and somewhat slower start. Cook had charted the islands around the same time he visited Australia, and

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although there was unofficial settlement in New Zealand as early as the late 1700s (involving small numbers of people often from Australia), the official colony was not established until 1840. After this time immigration from both Australia and Britain increased dramatically. The different mixes of original dialects, the different dates of settlement, the different settlement patterns and the contact with the different indigenous languages have meant that varieties growing up in Australia and New Zealand are already quite distinct. The physical separation from other English-speaking regions has allowed this distinctiveness to flourish. Regional variation within Australian and New Zealand English, however, is minor compared to other varieties. The blending of the original British dialects (the so-called “melting pot” effect) has left behind remarkable regional homogeneity – even within Australia, a continent some thirty times the size of Britain. Notwithstanding stylistically and socially marked variation, there is very little in the way of clearly identifiable regional variation. There is one notable exception; namely, those speakers from the Southern part of the South Island of New Zealand. This group have a striking semi-rhotic variety of English; in other words, /r/ is (variably) pronounced in postvocalic positions, especially after the NURSE vowel (cf. chapters by Gordon and Maclagan and also Bauer and Warren, this Handbook). However, lay perceptions are quite different. Speakers are often puzzled by linguists’ claims of regional homogeneity, pointing to obvious vocabulary differences they have encountered in their travels. A type of large, smooth sausage in Auckland is polony, in Christchurch saveloy and in Southland Belgium or Belgium roll/sausage. Both polony and saveloy are familiar terms for some Australians, although people in Adelaide (South Australia) are more comfortable with fritz, Brisbanites (Queensland) and Sydney-siders (New South Wales) with devon. Lexical variation of this kind will always exist of course and is certainly fascinating to speakers, but it does not make for distinct dialects. Moreover, popular claims that people can identify someone’s place of origin purely on the basis of how s/he speaks are exaggerated. With the exception of the so-called Southland “burr” just mentioned, accent and dialect differences are more likely to be a matter of statistical tendency, with certain differences occurring more or less frequently in one place than another. Some of these differences have existed from the beginning of settlement. They evolved because of the different dialect mixes in each region. The Southland “burr”, for example, can be explained by the significant number of Scots who settled in these southern regions. Although there is limited regional diversity now, we might expect that over time both physical and social distance will have the effect of increasing regional differences in Australia and New Zealand. Also the fact that there is no single prestige regional variety of the language in either country means that varieties will be freer to go their separate ways. In other words, speakers will not want to shift towards a distinctively Canberra or Wellington usage because it has more status. Certainly

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the separation of urban and rural communities looks currently to be inspiring the richest regional diversity in these places. In Australia, for example, we already find significant differences, particularly with respect to speed and also broadness of accent. For example, people in the city of Melbourne (Victoria) tend to speak faster than those in rural Victoria of the same socio-economic background. There is also a greater proportion of broad speakers in the rural regions. This is one popular stereotype that does appear to have some basis in reality (although cf. Bradley, this Handbook). Rural speakers of vernacular varieties are not only showing distinctness of accent and vocabulary, there are also signs of significant grammatical differences emerging (cf. Pawley’s contribution in this Handbook). But social factors are crucial here as well. It is difficult to talk about regionally defined variation without appealing to social aspects of the area. Non-standard vernacular varieties are also typical of the lower socio-economic classes in a speech community – basically, the higher up the social scale you go, the closer the speakers tend to be to the standard language and therefore the less remarkable the regional differences are. Moreover these grammatical features are by no means confined to the vernacular Englishes of Australia and New Zealand. Features such as irregular verb forms, special pronouns for plural “you”, and never as a general negator crop up in nonstandard varieties all over the English-speaking world. Effects of globalization are also contributing to this increasing diversity by fostering new socially-defined ethnic variation in these countries. Massive flows of people, including tourists, refugees and migrants, have produced an intermixing of people and cultures which is unprecedented. Clearly culture and language at the local level have been changed irrevocably by this “inter-national” movement of people. And as each individual group seeks to assert its own identity, different ethnic varieties of English can become an important means of signalling the group boundaries. Italian or Greek features in a group’s English, for example, can be potent markers of that group’s ethnicity. To give some idea of the potential for diversity here, consider that over the last 30 years or so, speakers from well over 40 different ethnic groups have migrated to Australia. These different ethnic mixes are now adding a vibrant new socially relevant aspect to Australian English. In cities such as Melbourne and Sydney, for example, the Italian and Greek communities are of particular interest because of their size and also because they have been in these places long enough now to have teenagers who were born in the country. Ethnicity is clearly a crucial part of social identity and is something that people want to demonstrate through their use of language. Even though New Zealand English and Australian English have incorporated very little from Maori or Aboriginal languages respectively, varieties of Maori English and Aboriginal English are providing an interesting new dimension to the “Extraterritorial Englishes” in the Antipodes (cf. section 3 below on contact varieties). In the face of the disappearance of local indigenous languages in these two countries, such distinct Englishes have become an important means of signalling these speakers’ cultural and

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social identity. Of the 200–250 Aboriginal languages that existed in Australia at the time of earliest European contact, only around 90 have survived and of these as few as 20 can be described as robust; e.g. Warlpiri, Arrente and Western Desert, each with about 3,000 speakers (see Schmidt 1990). In New Zealand, by the 1980s the number of Maori speakers was already as low as 12% of the total Maori population. Few contexts remain where Maori is the natural means of communication (cf. Benton 1991). In both Australia and New Zealand vigorous efforts are now being made to maintain, even revive, these languages, and time will tell how successful they are in reversing the overall trend toward language death. Another consequence of the rise of the global village is that native Englishes such as New Zealand English and Australian English are now much more open than ever before to global influence. There is of course a pervasive American dimension to much of what is global – a clear distinction between globalization and American cultural imperialism is at times difficult to maintain. It would be surprising therefore, given the global presence of the United States and the inevitable loosening of ties between Britain and its former Antipodean colonies, if there were not some sort of linguistic steamrolling going on. Certainly, the “Americanization” of Australian and New Zealand English is currently a hot topic within these speech communities – and reactions are generally hostile. Newspaper headlines like “Facing an American Invasion” go on to “condemn this insidious, but apparently virile, infection from the USA”. In letters to the editor and talkback calls on the radio, speakers rail against “ugly Americanisms” (many of which, it turns out, are not Americanisms at all; cf. the discussion in Burridge and Mulder 1998: ch. 12). Lay concerns about language usage are not based on genuine linguistic matters, but reflect deeper and more general social judgements. In this case, the current hostility towards American usage is undoubtedly born of the linguistic insecurity that comes from the dominance of America as a cultural, political, military and economic superpower. In fact, the actual impact of American English on Antipodean Englishes is difficult to determine. Most of the complaints centre around vocabulary. Lexical influences are the most obvious to speakers and intensify the wide-spread perception of American influence. This is undoubtedly fuelled by the high visibility of spelling – although Australian and New Zealand spelling conventions derive traditionally from the British, the technological presence of America means this is an area of rapidly growing American influence. Certainly there are areas, such as fast food industry and technology, where American influence on the lexicon is evident. There is also a strong American aspect to teenage slang. Elsewhere, however, influence remains slight. Phonological and grammatical transfers are also not much in evidence. Apparent American imports in the area of phonology include features of stress (such as primarily in place of primarily), affrication of /tr/ and /str/ (where tree sounds much like “chree”) and flapping or tapping of inter-vocalic /t/ (where latter and ladder become similar in pronunciation). Since examples like these il-

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lustrate natural phonological changes, however, it is difficult to establish the exact role of American influence here. Contact with American English could simply be accelerating trends already underway. Apparent grammatical imports such as an increase in the use of the subjunctive could also represent independently motivated change rather than direct borrowing. And while the resurgence of conservative features like gotten may well be due to American English influence too, it is also possible that these come from the vestiges of dialectal users downunder (cf. further discussion in Hundt et al., this Handbook). As a final note, we use linguistic labels such as Australian English or New Zealand English, as if each were a single immutable language variety. Clearly, this is not the reality. The reality is that speakers from different regions, from different social classes, of different ages, of different occupations, of different gender identification, of different sexual orientation will all talk differently. People talk differently in different contexts too – an informal chat, an interview, a lecture and so on. It must always be remembered that labels like Australian English or New Zealand English are convenient cover terms for what are really clumps or clusters of mutually intelligible speech varieties. 2.1.

A note on source material

For both New Zealand and Australian English there are several notable corpora that the authors here have drawn from: the Canterbury Corpus (containing recordings over the last 10 years made by students enrolled in the New Zealand English Course at the University of Canterbury), the Wellington Corpus of Written New Zealand English (comprising texts from 1986), the Australian Corpus of English held at Macquarie University (one million words of published material from 1986). Descriptions in the morphosyntax chapters also derive from elicitation tests and popular surveys (local or national-wide), as well as secondary references (such as usage guides and grammatical handbooks).

3.

Contact varieties

A number of the contributions in this Handbook focus on the English-based pidgin and creole languages in the Pacific and Australasia. Generally speaking, pidgins are a type of makeshift language that springs up when speakers of different linguistic backgrounds come into contact and need to talk. In the formation of a pidgin, there are always two (or more) languages that are involved, although the pidgin takes one language, usually the socially dominant one, as its point of origin for the lexicon. It is this language that contributes most of the vocabulary, though significant features of the grammar are likely to derive from other sources. At one time there were many more pidgin varieties in these regions. In the pearling fisher-

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ies around Broome in Western Australia, for example, pidginized forms of Malay were used during the early part of the last century. But pidgins such as this one are typically as short-lived as the social circumstances that spawned them and Broom Pearling Pidgin is now extinct. If the contact ceases or the different groups end up learning each other’s language, the pidgin will then drop by the wayside. If the situation stabilizes, however, and the contact continues, there can be a very different outcome as the language expands beyond its original very limited context of use. Change is then typically rapid, especially in vocabulary and grammar, as the makeshift pidgin metamorphoses into a fully-fledged and dynamic language, able to serve its speakers in all kinds of settings and circumstances. In theory it is straight-forward to say when a pidgin ends and a creole begins, at least according to those definitions that see pidgins and creoles as separate stages in a single process of development – as soon as children in a community are brought up speaking the pidgin as their first language, it becomes a creole. Accordingly, a creole is simply a nativized pidgin. The linguistic reality, however, is another matter – linguistically it is impossible to say where the boundary lies. Even before a pidgin becomes somebody’s first language, it can develop a highly elaborated structure (close to that of a so-called creole), if it is used for a number of different purposes. For this reason some linguists avoid the labels “pidgin” and “creole” and refer to these varieties straightforwardly as “contact languages” (cf. Crowley, this Handbook). Clearly, both Australia and New Zealand offer situations where English comes into close contact with other languages. Since European contact, Aboriginal Australia and Maori New Zealand have seen members of several language groups living in the same community and engaging in daily interaction. In Australia, pidgins based on English appeared not long after the arrival of the Europeans. The pidgin varieties became increasingly important for contact, not only between Aboriginal speakers and English speakers, but also as a lingua franca between speakers of different Aboriginal languages. It has long been observed that linguistic change follows closely on the heels of drastic social upheaval. We see striking illustration of this in the evolution of the creoles in these regions. After the arrival of Europeans in Australia, for example, there came extreme social disruption with the movement of Aboriginal people to mission stations, pastoral properties and towns. More than ever before Aboriginal people from different linguistic groups found themselves together and needing to communicate. Although there had always been widespread bilingualism among adults, this was not adequate to cover communicative needs in these new settlements, where children of different linguistic backgrounds were thrown together and where there was continued uneven interaction between Aboriginal and English speakers. Pidgins therefore fulfilled the communicative needs of these speakers. Out of these, creoles evolved in the Kimberley Region, the Roper River area and parts of North Queensland. These various English-based creoles have much in common, but they also show some regional differences too. These depend on the

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Aboriginal languages represented in the community where the pidgin originated and also influences from other pidgins and creoles brought into Australia from the outside (cf. Malcolm, this Handbook). In New Zealand the situation was somewhat different. As Ross Clark (1979) documents, in the early 1880s a “foreigner-talk” system known as South Seas Jargon was used in various parts of the Pacific primarily between European whalers and indigenous crew members, some of whom were Maori. In New Zealand this jargon developed into Maori Pidgin English which was used for early contact between Maori and Pakeha (or European New Zealanders). However, this pidgin never stabilized enough to evolve further. For one, in New Zealand there was only ever a single indigenous language, so there was never a need for a lingua franca between indigenous groups as there was in Australia. The historical records also suggest that the most common pattern was for English speakers to learn enough Maori to communicate. As a result the New Zealand pidgin was short-lived. However, Maori continue to be recognizable linguistically when speaking English through their preferential use of a wide range of linguistic forms, especially with respect to pronunciation (cf. Warren and Bauer, this Handbook). The Pacific/Australasia part of this Handbook contains descriptions of six other contact languages: Bislama (as spoken in Vanuatu), Solomon Islands Pijin, Tok Pisin (as spoken in Papua New Guinea), Hawai‘i Creole, Fiji English and Norfolk Island-Pitcairn English. The first three creoles all have their roots in earlier Melanesian Pidgin and share lexical patterning and a number of structural characteristics. However, different external influences (for example, contact with French for Bislama and with German for Tok Pisin) and interaction with different local languages have given rise to distinct developments within these varieties. Hawai‘i Creole is another English-lexifier contact language, but also draws vocabulary from Hawaiian and Japanese. Although its story is very different, it does have episodes in common with the creoles from the southwestern Pacific: (1) early links with South Seas Jargon (as mentioned above, a jargon variety used for short-term communication by crews on ships and by individuals on shore in various locations around the Pacific Islands) and (2) input from Melanesian Pidgin spoken by labourers recruited for the sugarcane plantations in the early 1800s. These four Pacific contact varieties have, since the beginning of the 20th century, undergone substantial functional and structural expansion. Fiji English shows many characteristically creole features although it is technically not a creole. For one, there is the absence of a stable pidgin at an earlier stage. Descriptions such as “creoloid” and “semi-creole” for this variety attest to the blurred nature of the category creole (cf. discussion earlier). Fiji English also has historical links with the previous creoles and these links are still evident in lexical and grammatical relics of Melanesian Pidgin (originally introduced by plantation labourers during the 19th century).

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Norfolk Island-Pitcairn English represents the linguistic outcome of contact between the British English of the Bounty mutineers and Tahitian. It is a remarkable example of a contact language since we know precisely the number of speakers who originally settled on Pitcairn in 1790, the places of origin of these speakers and even their names. However, its subsequent development has not yet been fully established and although there are clear early influences from the Pacific Pidgin English of the Melanesian islanders on Norfolk, the exact relationship of Norfolk Island-Pitcairn English to the contact varieties just described is problematic. Variation within these speech communities is considerable. Speakers of Melanesian Pidgin, for example, frequently switch between, say, Bislama or Tok Pisin and their local variety of Standard English. The situation can become even more complicated because of the so-called “creole continuum”. Take the example of the interaction of Kriol with Aboriginal English and Australian English. As previously discussed, linguistic labels such as these give the impression of easily identifiable and neatly compartmentalized entities, but such tidy classifications are not reality. The many different varieties of English and creole that Aboriginal people speak range from something which is virtually identical to Standard Australian English in everything but accent (dubbed the “acrolect”) through to pure creole which is so remote from Standard Australian English as to be mutually unintelligible (dubbed the “basilect”). In between these two polar extremes you find a whole range of varieties (or “mesolects”). Generally, speakers have command of a number of these varieties and they move along the continuum according to the situation and the audience. The label “variety of English” might at first seem problematic when dealing with these creole varieties, especially at the basilectal end of the continuum. These are very different Englishes in all respects – vocabulary, grammar and phonology. The very “unEnglish-looking” structures that characterize creoles, as well as their unique development (as contact languages resulting from pidgins), set them apart. There is also the question of the lack of mutual comprehension. Moreover, these languages have distinct names of course – Bislama, Tok Pisin, Kriol. The speakers themselves would never call their language a kind of English. Nonetheless, these contact languages share vocabulary and grammatical features that align them with the English of the international community. All have links of some sort with the group of continental Germanic dialects that ended up in the British Isles sometime in the 5th century AD. These off-springs of English are clearly an important dimension to the diversification of English world-wide (cf. also discussion in the General Introduction to this Handbook).

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575

A note on the order of chapters

The chapters are arranged (partly on linguistic and partly on geographical grounds) in the following order: New Zealand English, Maori English, Australian English, Aboriginal English together with Kriol and Torres Strait Creole (Australia), Bislama (Vanuatu), Solomon Islands Pijin, Tok Pisin (Papua New Guinea), Hawai‘i Creole, Fiji English and Norfolk Island-Pitcairn English. Clearly, all the chapters are self-contained entities and are not intended to be read left to right, chapter by chapter – although of course readers can do that if they wish. Nonetheless, the reader’s attention is drawn to certain contributions in the Handbook that complement each other and are best read as companion chapters. The shared linguistic features and trends between Australia and New Zealand and the question of an Antipodean standard (as distinct from the supervarieties of the northern hemisphere) make these chapters obvious ones for comparison. Similarly, since Maori English and Australian Aboriginal English show some of the same characteristics as their respective standard languages, the readers should also think of these chapters collectively. A tangled linguistic history unites the various contact varieties that follow. The Australian creoles that feature earlier also share in this tangled history. The similar socio-historical conditions that gave rise to these off-springs of English, coupled with common input early on from nautical jargon, have given rise to obvious similarities between these varieties (similarities also due in part to linguistic universals). Particularly striking are the linguistic resemblances between the contact varieties of Vanuatu, Solomon Islands and Papua New Guinea. Their common origin in earlier Melanesian Pidgin naturally unites the three relevant chapters here, and readers will find Crowley’s sociohistorical backdrop for Bislama a useful backdrop also for Solomon Islands Pijin and Tok Pisin. The account of Norfolk Island-Pitcairn English is placed last in this group of Pacific contact varieties on account of the fact that the diffusion of creole features from St Kitts now places this variety linguistically closer to Atlantic creoles. All varieties have counterpart chapters in both the phonology and morphosyntax volumes. There is not complete parallelism, however. Variation in New Zealand English phonology has two special chapters devoted to it – one on general social and regional differences, especially those that relate to on-going changes, and another that looks specifically at Maori English. Morphosyntactic variation in New Zealand English, on the other hand, is included within only the one general chapter. The reader’s attention is also drawn to an additional contribution in the morphosyntax volume. This is a chapter that deals specifically with features of lexical morphology in Australian English.

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4.1.

The chapters on phonology

In the opening chapter, Bauer and Warren provide an account of the consonant and vowel systems, as well as the prosodic features, of New Zealand English. Attention is also paid to contact with Maori, in particular the pronunciation of words of Maori origin. The next two chapters are natural companion chapters. Gordon and Maclagan focus on the social and regional variation in New Zealand English phonology. Although, as they point out, regional variation is slight compared to other varieties, there are notable differences to be heard in the Southern part of the South Island (the variable rhoticity of Southland-Otago is something Bauer and Warren also take up in their chapter). These two authors highlight in particular those aspects of variation that are indicative of vowel and consonant changes in progress (e.g. NEAR-SQUARE merger, vocalization of /l/ and affrication of /tr/ and /str/). In a separate chapter, Warren and Bauer go on to focus on the characteristics of Maori English phonology. They emphasize that although many of these consonant and vowel features appear in Pakeha English (spoken by European New Zealanders), they are nonetheless more prevalent and more consistently maintained in Maori English and therefore go to make this a distinct variety. Strikingly different features also obtain within Maori English prosody, most notably with respect to voice quality and rhythm. The next three chapters move to Australia. Horvath examines the features of Australian English phonology, the most significant being the vowels. She also picks up on social dimensions, focusing on those sounds that are indicative of change in progress. Bradley takes up the issue of change but looks at regional characteristics. As alluded to earlier in this Introduction, these regional differences are not striking but they do exist and they are on the increase, especially within the system of vowels. Of particular interest with respect to variation elsewhere in the English-speaking world are the regional differences in the BATH vowel class. In the next chapter, Malcolm examines the complex variation that exists within the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander speech communities. This includes the phonological systems of two creole varieties, Kriol and Cape York Creole (with focus on the basilectal varieties), and also Aboriginal English. Malcolm concludes by examining some of the serious educational implications, especially the question of better integration of these Englishes into the school system. The next chapters present sketches of the other contact varieties. Crowley begins with a description of the phonological features of Bislama. This is followed by Jourdan and Selbach on Solomon Islands Pijin and Smith on Tok Pisin. Sakoda and Siegel’s account focuses on the variety of Hawai‘i English that differs most strikingly from mainstream varieties of English (namely, the basilectal or “heavy” varieties) and compares these to the mesolectal varieties placed closer to English. The descriptions in all four chapters attest to the rich diversity that exists in the

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Englishes of these regions. This is diversity involving an array of different factors such as education, bilingualism and location (in particular, urban versus rural). Tent and Mugler go on to examine the extraordinary variation that exists within the phonological systems of the different varieties that are included under the broad umbrella of Fiji English. The authors point out that variation here depends largely on two factors: (1) education of the speaker and (2) first language of the speaker (principally Fijian and Fiji Hindi). Accordingly, these authors divide their discussion into “Pure Fiji English” (spoken by indigenous Fijians and part-Europeans) and “Indo-Fijian Fiji English” (spoken by Indo-Fijians or “Fiji Indians”) – readers are also provided with a brief phonological sketch of Fiji Hindi for comparison. Mühlhäusler and Ingram conclude this part of the Handbook with a description of the most salient aspects of the phonological system of Norfolk Island-Pitcairn English, specifically that variety spoken on Norfolk Island (Norfuk). They base their analysis initially on recordings made in 1957 (the Flint dialogues), which they then compare with recordings made in 2002 of seven Norfuk speakers. 4.2.

The chapters on morphosyntax

The first two papers in this part of the Handbook are heavily corpus-based. Hundt, Gordon and Hay present their analysis of the standard and non-standard features of New Zealand English morphosyntax as they stand in relation to British English, American English and also Australian English. The authors identify those features that are genuinely New Zealand English and those that are used either more or less frequently in New Zealand English as against other varieties. Their chapter highlights the problem of identifying the shared morphosyntactic features that are the result of external influences (principally in this case American English influence) and those that represent parallel but independent developments. Collins and Peters’ analysis of Australian English is a useful companion chapter. In particular, these authors examine the case for endonormativity; in other words, the extent to which Australian English is “consolidating its own norms as an independent national standard”. Comparisons are made with New Zealand English and the two northern hemisphere standards. Pawley’s contribution looks at regional variation within Australia, with a focus on Tasmania. In particular, he examines the “Australianness” of what he calls Australian Vernacular English, an informal spoken English, largely working class, male and rural. This variety has a number of non-standard grammatical features that can be found in many places where English is spoken, including other parts of Australia. However, Pawley also identifies some distinctive features, most notably the system of gender assignment (where animate pronouns he/she are used in reference to inanimate objects). The next paper by Simpson shows the interface between lexicon and grammar. One earmark of Australian English has become the

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rich system of nominal derivation that produces forms like Chrissie (< Christmas) and rellie or rello (< relative), journo (< journalist) and arvo (< afternoon), or what Simpson calls “hypocoristics”. Here she examines the meanings and uses of these forms and also the linguistic processes that produce them. In the next chapter, Malcolm compares the morphology and syntax of Aboriginal English and Kriol and Torres Strait Creole (in particular how these last two differ from Atlantic creoles). The following four chapters are also concerned with contact varieties and complement each other and Malcolm’s contribution nicely. Crowley presents the morphosyntactic features of Bislama, Jourdan the features of Solomon Islands Pijin, Smith those of Tok Pisin and Sakoda and Siegel those of Hawai‘i Creole (with focus on the basilectal varieties). The grammatical structures examined in these four chapters are strikingly different from mainstream Englishes. They include, for example, extensive patterns of verb serialization, lack of inflectional morphology, elaborate pronoun systems, distinguishing, for example, dual, sometimes even trial, and plural as well as inclusive and exclusive first person. In the chapter that follows, Mugler and Tent focus on those features that are distinctively Fijian English and those shared by other varieties of English. Many of these features are creole-like. The descriptions here are based on 80 hours of recordings, television news and advertisements and also written sources (principally newspapers). Once again, variation is rife within this speech community (again depending largely on education and different first languages). Finally, Mühlhäusler’s contribution highlights the creole features of Norfuk that are shared with other Pacific contact varieties, and also those features that place this variety typologically closer to the creoles of the Atlantic. The reader’s attention is also drawn here (as it is in many of the previous chapters) to the increasing influence of English on the morphosyntax of this variety. Readers of this part of the Handbook will be struck by the grammatical similarities that obtain not only between the contact varieties in Vanuatu, Solomon Islands and Papua New Guinea (i.e. derived from earlier Melanesian Pidgin), but also between the English-based contact languages in the Pacific and Australasian regions generally. Indeed contact varieties globally share striking resemblances, and most dramatically in their grammars (cf. the creoles described in the Americas and Caribbean section of this Handbook). Moreover, many of the features are also prevalent in colloquial non-standard varieties of English spoken in places where English is the first language of the majority; cf. for instance Pawley’s chapter on Australian Vernacular English in this volume. Discussion of these shared features can be found in the synopses. * We are very grateful to Terry Crowley for his comments on an early version of this introduction

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References Benton, Richard A. 1991 Maori English: A New Zealand Myth? In: Jenny Cheshire (ed.), English Around the World: Sociolinguistic Perspectives, 187–199. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Burridge, Kate and Jean Mulder 1998 English in Australia and New Zealand: An Introduction to its Structure, History and Use. Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Clark, Ross 1979 In Search of Beach-La-Mar: Towards a History of Pacific Pidgin English. Te Reo 22: 3–64. 1991 Pidgin English and Pidgin Maori in New Zealand. In: Jenny Cheshire (ed.), English Around the World: Sociolinguistic Perspectives, 187–113. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Schmidt, Annette 1990 The Loss of Australia’s Aboriginal Heritage. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press.

New Zealand English: phonology Laurie Bauer and Paul Warren

1.

Introduction

1.1.

The historical background

The first discoverers of New Zealand were Polynesian explorers around AD 925, and settlement by Polynesians was well established by 1150. Europeans arrived in the form of the Dutchman Abel Tasman in 1642. A result of Tasman’s visit is the name New Zealand, given to the islands by Dutch cartographers later in the seventeenth century. The first contact of New Zealand with the English language can be dated to Captain Cook’s arrival on the Endeavour in 1769. It was Cook who claimed New Zealand for the British Crown. Until the arrival of Europeans, the only language spoken in New Zealand had been Maori, the language of the Polynesian settlers. English-speakers were not the only European settlers, but clearly made up a large proportion of the early missionaries and traders to come to New Zealand. Many of these early English-speaking settlers came not from Britain, but from Australia, where there were strong trading links. Indeed, until 1841 New Zealand was officially a dependency of New South Wales. Although it had been established as the language of the colonial administration by the early nineteenth century, English was still not widespread amongst the Maori population. The Treaty of Waitangi, signed in 1840 by Maori chiefs and representatives of the British Government, established British colonial rule in New Zealand, and opened the way for more systematic migration from Britain and Australia. Large-scale organized settlement now began in earnest, for instance, the Europeans in New Zealand numbered some 2,000 in 1838 but nearer 10,000 by 1842. This increase in settlement meant that by the middle of the nineteenth century the English-speaking population outnumbered Maori-speakers. We can distinguish different waves of settlement which may have had influence on the development of New Zealand English. The first covers the period 1840– 1860, and involved planned settlement by a number of organizations. The New Zealand Company established settlements in Wellington and Nelson, with populations originating from London and the south-east of England. The Plymouth Company placed settlers from Devon and Cornwall in the Taranaki region, founding the city of New Plymouth. In the South Island, Otago in the deep south was settled by the Scottish free-church, while Canterbury’s early settlers were Anglo-Catholic. Other historically interesting pockets of settlement include Waipu in Northland,

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which was settled by Scottish highlanders who had become dissatisfied with their earlier attempts to establish a community in Nova Scotia. The second wave of settlement followed the discovery of gold, and resulted in a dramatic increase in the population of gold-field areas in the period 1860–1870. The areas most affected were Otago and the West Coast of the South Island, which gained a large number of settlers from Australia. Planned immigration from the 1870s onwards forms the third wave of settlement. The majority of the early settlers in this period originated from southern England, and as many as 10 per cent from Cornwall alone. By 1890 the population growth from New Zealand-born Europeans exceeded that from new settlement and it is probably from this point that the influence on New Zealand English from native New Zealanders begins to outweigh that of British or Australian varieties. It is interesting to note that despite the pattern of rather focused early settlement from certain areas of Britain into certain areas of New Zealand, the forms of English that have evolved in New Zealand are remarkably homogeneous, with very little dialectal variation throughout New Zealand (cf. the chapter by Gordon and Maclagan, this volume). It is also noteworthy that the early influence of Australia was strong. Not only was Australia an early trading partner and provider of continuing settlement, but also many of the trading and communication links between parts of New Zealand occurred via Australia. For instance, the sea-link from Auckland across the Tasman and back to Wellington was for a long time easier than the land route through the New Zealand bush. 1.2.

Contact with Maori

The major contact language which might be expected to have had some influence on New Zealand English is of course Maori. The phonology of Maori (cf. the chapter by Warren and Bauer, this volume) is considerably simpler than that of English, with five vowels /i,
, a, ç, u/ and ten consonants /p, t, k, m, n, , f, h, r, w/ in a (C)V(V) syllable structure. The vowels in a VV sequence can be identical (i.e. a long vowel) or different (when the result may be either a sequence of vowels or a diphthong depending on the vowels concerned). Voiceless stops were originally unaspirated, but have increasingly become aspirated under the influence of English. /t, n/ can be alveolar or dental, /r/ is a voiced alveolar tap. The nature of /f/ varies between dialects of Maori – it was written wh by the early missionaries suggesting that it was heard as [„], though [∏] is also heard. A further significant feature of Maori concerns its rhythm, which is mora-timed. Where Maori is concerned, a mora is a unit of length such that a short vowel constitutes a single mora and a long vowel or diphthong constitutes two. In mora-timing, a sequence of two syllables each containing one short vowel is rhythmically equivalent to a single syllable containing a long vowel.

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2.

Phonological systems

2.1.

Stressed vowel system

New Zealand English has, with very minor exceptions, a standard non-rhotic stressed vowel system. The lexical sets are assigned to phonemes as below, with the first symbol in the set of illustrative qualities being the one we select for a phonemic transcription. FLEECE

i˘, Iˆ

BATH, START, PALM

å˘

NURSE

P˘, ø˘, O˘

THOUGHT, NORTH, FORCE

o˘, o´, o.å

GOOSE

¨˘, Y˘, I¨, å¨

KIT

, ´, ´4, I

DRESS

e, e , e

TRAP




STRUT

å , å+

LOT

 , 

FOOT

 , ˆ¢

FACE

æe, åe, åi

PRICE

e, e, i

CHOICE

oe, oi

GOAT

å¨ , åˆ

MOUTH

æ¨,
¨

NEAR

i , i.å, e.å, e

SQUARE

e , i.å, e.å, i

CURE

¨ , ¨.å

Some of these will be discussed in more detail below, in particular the NEAR – SQUARE merger is a process of great interest in the phonology of current New Zealand English. Lip-rounding and spreading is never strong in New Zealand English. There is some as-yet unexplained articulatory compensation for lip-rounding which can give the auditory impression of lip-rounding without any difference in the actual lip-position. Talk of lip-rounding in the descriptions below must be understood

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in terms of this mechanism rather than in terms of the expected pouting gesture. A video of one female speaker pronouncing a number of New Zealand English vowels is provided on the accompanying CD-ROM and in the online version. Her lip movement seems to us to be greater than is found with many speakers – perhaps because of the formal environment of the recording and the fact that she was reading isolated words. An interesting comparison can be made to illustrate this, using the recordings for herd and word. The former is taken from the word-list and the latter from an impromptu remark by the speaker, albeit produced with accompanying laughter, which contributed to the different lip shape. The comparison is interesting not just as an illustration of the different lip shape in formal and informal contexts, but also because auditory and acoustic comparison of the two / / vowels shows that they are remarkably similar, despite the different lip configuration. As observed above, there would appear to be some other compensatory articulatory configuration that results in the rounded quality in the absence of rounded lip shape. The fundamental system given above is subject to considerable neutralization before /r/ and /l/. Much of the neutralization is variable, particularly that before /l/, so that no simple statement of the system in neutralized positions can be given. Furthermore, the context of neutralization does not seem to be consistent for all vowels. In some cases there is neutralization before any /l/, in others the position of neutralization appears to be restricted to where /l/ is in a syllable coda (i.e. after the vowel but in the same syllable), in others to environments where the /l/ is not only in a coda but followed by an obstruent (perhaps particularly voiceless obstruents). The phonemes instantiated in the following lexical sets are generally neutralized before /r/: FLEECE, NEAR

i

DRESS, SQUARE

e

GOOSE, CURE



Note that this pattern is complicated by the NEAR-SQUARE merger where that occurs. The phonemes instantiated in the following lexical sets are frequently neutralized before /l/: FLEECE, NEAR

There is only one potential minimal pair here, reel vs. real, and these are homophones for all New Zealand English speakers.

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DRESS, TRAP

This neutralization is a sociolinguistic variable, but the neutralization is heard from the majority of younger speakers before any /l/. Such speakers may therefore not distinguish Alan and Ellen, or salary and celery. In Wellington data we have analyzed, the neutralized vowel is realized as a vowel which is opener and more retracted than either of DRESS or TRAP, although it appears that values intermediate between DRESS and TRAP are also found. FOOT, GOOSE

These are commonly neutralized before coda-/l/, making pull and pool homophonous. KIT, FOOT

These are often neutralized before a coda-/l/, e.g. in pill and pull. KIT, GOOSE

This follows from the last two examples: pill and pool, or skills and schools may be indistinguishable. KIT, STRUT

These may be neutralized, but are most usually kept distinct before /l/, even in a pair like cult and kilt. LOT, GOAT

These are regularly neutralized before coda-/l/. The vowel in troll may not clearly belong to either phoneme, and is perhaps an instance of a new GOLD vowel (see further below). THOUGHT, GOAT

These may be neutralized before coda-/l/. FOOT, THOUGHT

These may be neutralized before coda-/l/. These last three can lead to homophony among poll, pole, pull, Paul. This leads to a minimum of a six-vowel monophthongal system before /l/: three long and three short vowels (ignoring the diphthongs). Individual speakers may, of course, have more contrasts than this, depending on their age, gender, ethnicity and so on, but none will have the full set of contrasts found in Received Pronunciation (RP). 2.2.

Unstressed vowel system

The unstressed vowel system is made up of three contrasting units, one of which has two major allophones. The first of the units is the happY vowel, which na-

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ïve speakers relate to the FLEECE vowel rather than to the KIT vowel in phonemic terms. The patterns of diphthongization for FLEECE and happY are probably not identical, although both can be diphthongized. The second unit is made up of vocalized realizations of /l/. The phonetics of this vowel vary in ways which have not been fully described. The actual vowel may be more or less rounded and more or less back or open, rarely more open than cardinal [o] and generally more back than central. Phonemically, it may be transcribed as //, but this is no more than a viable symbol. The third member of the system is rather more problematic. Introductory students identify it as the STRUT vowel when it is in final position (and especially when it is in utterance-final position), and occasionally also in word-initial position, and with the KIT vowel when it is in other positions. This corresponds to the commA vowel in RP, but also to the horsES vowel, since chatted and chattered, villages and villagers are homophones for nearly all New Zealand English speakers. commA, horsES

, , , 

happY

i, i, i

treacLE

, ç3, o, , u, 

In phonemic transcriptions we use the first symbols in all of these sets. 2.3.

The consonant system

The consonant system of New Zealand English is set out in the table. There is nothing unexpected in this system except possibly the lack of //, which is discussed below. LabioPostBilabial dental Dental Alveolar alveolar Palatal Velar Glottal Plosive

p b

t d

k  t d

Affricate f v

Fricative Nasal Lateral approximant

m

Approximant

w

 

s z





h

n



l r

j

Some conservative speakers still maintain a voiceless labial-velar fricative [] in words like when and whimper, but this may be represented as /hw/ when it occurs.

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It seems likely that where this feature is retained it now serves to mark regionalism or social status. The glottal plosive [] may be argued to be gaining phonemic status in wordfinal position in utterances such as [ ] shut up, though for many speakers it occurs only as an allophone of /t/ except where it is reinforcing one of [p, t, k, t].

3.

The vowels

3.1.

The acoustic structure of the vowels

Published values for formants 1 and 2 in the more monophthongal of New Zealand English vowels are presented in the table below. In the table headings, M means ‘male’ and F means ‘female’. A represents speakers from Auckland, analyzed by Hall (1976), C represents speakers from Christchurch analyzed by Maclagan (1982), and G represents speakers recorded in Dunedin but coming from throughout New Zealand and analyzed by Watson, Harrington, and Evans (1998). It is thus possible that there are diachronic and regional differences between the speakers sampled. See also Easton and Bauer (2000). Table 1.

Published values for New Zealand English vowel formants

Vowel

Formant

AM

CF

CM

GF

GM

FLEECE

F1

378

370

350

349

273

KIT

F2 F1

2300 489

2750 500

2400 460

2022 598

2325 487

DRESS

F2 F1

1922 467

2200 420

1800 410

2022 455

1710 365

TRAP

F2 F1

2144 631

2600 680

2200 580

2662 701

2248 579

STRUT

F2 F1

1939 747

2460 920

2000 800

2278 952

1951 759

START

F2 F1

1525 783

1600 920

1500 800

1577 985

1303 789

LOT

F2 F1

1478 677

1520 780

1480 620

1583 739

1315 615

FORCE

F2 F1

1119 444

1200 430

1080 410

1132 438

964 384

FOOT

F2 F1

800 431

900 550

700 490

769 562

713 472

F2

1111

1140

1100

1223

1044

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Table 1 (continued) Published values for New Zealand English vowel formants Vowel

Formant

AM

CF

CM

GF

GM

GOOSE

F1 F2 F1 F2

339 1778 450 1721

420 1600 430 1900

410 1600 440 1750

365 1926 492 1954

287 1605 430 1630

NURSE

3.2.

The short vowels

The short front vowels are the site of the vowel shift which is so characteristic of New Zealand English (as of other varieties, especially southern-hemisphere varieties). Fundamentally, this means that KIT, DRESS and TRAP are phonetically displaced one slot clockwise from their equivalent vowels in conservative RP. This will be seen in the descriptions of the individual vowels below. KIT

The KIT vowel in New Zealand English is notoriously centralized, to such an extent that it is parodied by Australians using their STRUT vowel. While KIT is rarely as open as this suggests in New Zealand English, it is very centralized, probably varying between [] and [ ] or [ ]. The KIT vowel provides one of the shibboleths for distinguishing between Australian and New Zealand speakers, the phrase fish and chips being one which causes hilarity on both sides of the Tasman when spoken by people from the other side of the sea. Because of the very central quality of this vowel, there is no phonetic distinction between the KIT vowel and the commA vowel where that occurs in non-final position. In other words, commA and horsES do not contrast phonemically, leading to homophony between boarded and bordered, and also between effect and affect. The first type of homophony is occasionally overcome by the use of the NURSE vowel in bordered, especially in slow speech or if a distinction is to be drawn. The second type may be overcome by the use of full vowels [i] and [æ] respectively, even in less careful speech. The vowel before [] in words like sing and coming requires some comment. It is much closer than other variants of the KIT vowel, and is regularly associated with the FLEECE vowel by students. Theoretically, there are at least three possibilities here: (i) it is a close allophone of the same vowel as in KIT; (ii) it is an allophone of the vowel in FLEECE, and the only tense vowel permitted before [N]; (iii) it is a stressed variant of the happY vowel. It is not clear how these possibilities are to be distinguished from each other. For some speakers, but not all,

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the same variant is found before [g] in words like big, wriggle (the latter forming a minimal pair with regal). Close variants before other consonants are sporadic. If vowels are to be paired in terms of length/tension, then in New Zealand English the KIT vowel should be paired with the NURSE vowel, as being the closest long vowel in terms of quality. Thus, bid and bird may for some speakers be distinguished primarily by vowel length. DRESS

The DRESS vowel is close in New Zealand, even by Australian standards, and may overlap with the FLEECE vowel in terms of its formant structure, although more central variants are also common. There is neutralization with SQUARE before /r/ (making ferry and fairy homophonous) and neutralization with TRAP before /l/ (as in Ellen and Alan). If vowels are to be paired in terms of length/tension, then in New Zealand English the DRESS vowel should be paired with the FLEECE vowel, as being the closest long vowel in terms of quality. TRAP

The New Zealand English TRAP vowel is close even by Australian standards, and unlike the corresponding vowel in RP and some varieties of Australian English, shows no signs of becoming opener as yet. As in many other varieties of English, there is some evidence of a TRAP-split, with longer and shorter versions potentially contrasting in pairs such as banned and band. There is neutralization with DRESS before /l/, whether or not the /l/ is in a coda. TRAP cannot be easily paired with any long vowel in New Zealand English. STRUT STRUT is a near-open central-to-front vowel [] or []. The STRUT vowel may oc-

cur syllable-finally in expressions like See ya!, or the word the used as a citation form, though even here it may be followed by []. Word or phrase-final vowels in words like colour, data, koala, structure, tuatara may be open enough to fall into the same area of the vowel chart as the STRUT vowel. If vowels are to be paired in terms of length/tension, then in New Zealand English the STRUT vowel should be paired with the START vowel, with which it is virtually identical in terms of formant structure, resulting in a distinction primarily of length between cut and cart.

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LOT

The LOT vowel is slightly more centralized than its RP congener, and could be transcribed as []. There is neutralization with GOAT before coda-/l/, whether or not the /l/ is vocalized. Thus doll and dole are not distinguishable as they are in RP. For some speakers, the vowel here may be phonemically distinct from both LOT and GOAT. We refer to this above as the GOLD vowel. Note though that none of the speakers in our sample data appear to have this as a distinct vowel. LOT cannot be easily paired with any long vowel in New Zealand English. FOOT

The FOOT vowel appears to be undergoing a dramatic diachronic change which leaves it with two very different variants, distinguished at the moment in terms of their lexical occurrence. The conservative value is a centralized back slightly rounded vowel, [], while the innovative value is much more a central vowel and unrounded. The innovative value is particularly common in the word good. It is long established in the greeting good day (frequently written as ), but has spread into other uses of the word good. Although there is danger of overlap with the KIT vowel, this does not appear to be happening, and accordingly we choose to transcribe this variant as [ˆ]. The FOOT vowel is neutralized with several other vowels before /l/. FOOT and GOOSE are neutralized before /l/ in words like full and fool. Here the vocalization of the /l/ makes it disappear entirely, and we are left with a long back rounded vowel, [u]. There is also neutralization with KIT before /l/ in pairs like fill and full. If all three are not neutralized together, the outcome here may be a back rounded vowel, not as long as that for fool. This neutralization does not occur before onset/l/. If vowels are to be paired in terms of length/tension, then in New Zealand English the FOOT vowel should be paired with the THOUGHT vowel, with which it is sometimes virtually identical in terms of formant structure, so that put and port may differ only in vowel length. 3.3.

The long vowels

FLEECE

The FLEECE vowel is usually slightly diphthongized. It is a rising diphthong (Catford 1977: 216) with a very brief first element, which may nevertheless be quite open. FLEECE and NEAR are neutralized before an /l/, so that reel and real are never distinct. They are also neutralized before an /r/, so that searing rhymes with key-ring

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(and caring and key-ring may be homophonous where the NEAR-SQUARE merger applies). In both these cases the vowel heard is monophthongal rather than diphthongal. BATH, PALM, START

The phonetic quality of this vowel overlaps with the quality for STRUT. The difference between the two is purely length for many speakers, as in the cut, cart example cited earlier. Modern New Zealanders use this same vowel in words like dance and example. Although there are New Zealanders (particularly conservative South Island speakers) who use the TRAP vowel in this environment, and although there are Australian speakers who use the same vowel in dance and palm, this is perceived as a shibboleth distinguishing Australian and New Zealand varieties of English. THOUGHT, NORTH, FORCE

This vowel is pronounced very close, near to Cardinal 7 position. This also makes it the backest vowel in New Zealand English. For some speakers, there is overlap in quality between FOOT and THOUGHT, the two being distinguished by length. This vowel is frequently diphthongized in long positions, and may become disyllabic in free position, especially when utterance-final, e.g. [fo.] four. GOOSE

The GOOSE vowel is very front, and should probably be considered a front rather than a central vowel. It is, for example, much fronter than the RP GOOSE vowel, and comparable to the Australian and South African qualities. When it is followed by /l/ as in school, the /l/ vanishes and the quality of the vowel becomes genuinely back. Consequently, spoon and spool sound extremely different. This contrasts with the situation in, say, New South Wales or Victoria, and acts as a shibboleth in distinguishing Australian and New Zealand varieties of English. The GOOSE vowel may be diphthongized. When it is, it is a rising diphthong, with a very short first element, which may nevertheless be quite open, starting from near [ ]. However, this is changing. In the phrase thank you, shop assistants regularly use an extremely wide diphthong, which almost sounds like the GOAT vowel. This may be a sign of an impending change in New Zealand English: not long ago it was a pronunciation heard only in the speech of children.

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NURSE

Acoustic studies of the NURSE vowel show it overlapping with the GOOSE vowel. This implies a very close pronunciation of NURSE, perhaps [O=]. Impressionistically, this seems like quite a broad pronunciation, with more open variants being more prestigious. Given this overlap, it becomes an open question as to how GOOSE and NURSE are distinguished; there does not appear to be any merger, and yet the difference in diphthongization is not necessarily present. There may be a potential or incipient merger here: personalized car number plates show re-spellings such as 2MIN8OR for ‘terminator’ suggesting that a NURSE-GOOSE merger is on the cards. Particularly in formal or slow speech, NURSE is used in many positions where RP would have / /, notably where it corresponds to an orthography. 3.4.

The diphthongs

Diphthong shift applies to FACE, PRICE and CHOICE in New Zealand English, moving them one slot anti-clockwise from their position in RP. NEAR and SQUARE are variably merged, with many young speakers unable to distinguish them now. FACE

The starting point for the FACE diphthong is considerably opener in New Zealand English than for its RP equivalent, to the extent that it may be perceived as PRICE by British speakers. PRICE

The starting point for the PRICE diphthong is considerably further back in New Zealand English than in RP, to the extent that it may be perceived as CHOICE by British speakers. This confusion is understandable when speakers of a broad variety are heard, since they may also round the first element of the diphthong, giving something like [e]. Many speakers retain an unrounded first element, [ e]. PRICE + // in words like fire either results in a disyllabic sequence or may result in a monophthong, probably the same phoneme as in BATH/PALM/ START. CHOICE

The first element of the CHOICE diphthong is raised, approximately to the position of the THOUGHT vowel.

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GOAT

The GOAT diphthong has a very open and central starting position. The second element usually corresponds to a pronunciation of the GOOSE vowel. However, for some speakers, especially in the word no or where the vowel falls under the tonic syllable, the final element is becoming unrounded, giving a pronunciation like [] or [ˆ]. MOUTH MOUTH has a relatively close starting position, with closer variants belonging to

broader variants of the New Zealand accent. New tokens of MOUTH are arising from DRESS or TRAP plus vocalized /l/, so that words like twelve, self and health often contain a vowel which, if it is not identical with MOUTH, is extremely close phonetically. Not only is this creating new tokens of MOUTH, it is widening the distribution of MOUTH, which can occur before labials (help) and velars (talc). MOUTH + unstressed // in words like tower either results in a disyllabic sequence or results in a monophthong, probably to be associated with the BATH/ PALM/START phoneme, although closer values than for BATH/PALM/START can be heard. NEAR, SQUARE

The NEAR and SQUARE diphthongs are undergoing merger in New Zealand English, and many young speakers not only fail to distinguish the two in production but also have difficulty perceiving the distinction. There is some debate as to the direction of the merger (see Gordon and Maclagan, this volume), but the consensus appears to be that it is towards a close variant, [i ]. Monophthongal vowels are produced by some speakers, especially before /l/ and /r/, resulting in the neutralization of FLEECE and NEAR in this position, and also therefore of FLEECE and SQUARE for speakers who merge NEAR and SQUARE. Word pairs like merry and Mary are as a result distinguished largely by vowel length. CURE

The CURE diphthong has a starting point comparable to that of GOOSE, and an open central end-point. When the vowel occurs in open position, it may become disyllabic. GOOSE and CURE are neutralized before /r/, where the vowel heard is monophthongal rather than diphthongal. There is no contrast before /l/ either.

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The CURE vowel is heard in New Zealand English only following /j/. In words like poor, moor, tour it has been largely replaced by FORCE. The overall result is that the CURE vowel has very little functional load in New Zealand English.

4.

The consonants

4.1.

The plosives

The voiceless velar plosive is usually affricated (released with audible friction at the point of articulation) in all positions. Alveolar [t] is affricated initially in stressed syllables, but usually voiced and tapped between sonorants in words such as getting, butter, bottle. The tapping may occur over word-boundaries as well as within words, both within a foot and over foot-boundaries. (A foot here is a sequence of a stressed syllable and any following unstressed syllables up to but not including the next stressed syllable.) It occurs over word-boundaries only where the /t/ is word-final, e.g. in get eggs. In a tall person, aspiration/affrication of /t/ blocks the tapping. There are some slight indications that a glottal plosive may be starting to replace this tap, but it is too soon to say whether this feature will spread. A glottal plosive [] is in free variation with an affricated plosive in final position. The bilabial [p] can be heard aspirated in all positions. Both [p] and [k] and also [t] may get glottal reinforcement in word-final position, and this variant seems to be gaining ground rapidly, having been virtually unknown in the 1970s. After syllable-initial [s], [p, t, k] are unaspirated. The so-called voiced plosives have very little voicing, and are distinguished from their voiceless counterparts mainly by their lack of aspiration/affrication. There may be no phonetic difference between an intervocalic /t/ and an intervocalic /d/, but this has not been carefully analyzed. 4.2.

The fricatives

The most important feature of the fricatives is the devoicing of the so-called voiced fricatives. It is not always clear whether the devoicing is phonemic or just phonetic, nor whether the same cause underlies all instances of fricative-devoicing. For example the pronunciation of thither with an initial [] is probably a lexical difference, parallel with the pronunciation found in Scottish English and some American varieties. The pronunciation of president as though homophonous with precedent seems more like a process of devoicing, which is currently variable in New Zealand English. There may nevertheless be a lexical dimension to this devoicing: president, positive seem particularly susceptible to it. So far, studies of the phenomenon have not distinguished between phonetic devoicing and vowelshortening, so that it is not always clear whether a phonemic distinction is being

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lost or not. Certainly, it seems to be true that there is more sibilant-devoicing than there is corresponding vowel-shortening. In /stj/ and /str/ clusters we find complex assimilation taking place. In /stj/ clusters there is coalescent assimilation of the /tj/ to [t], and the post-alveolar quality is then passed on to the /s/ to give [t], frequently heard in words like student. In /str/ clusters, the very slight retroflection of the /r/ was originally passed to the whole of the cluster, giving something that we might transcribe as [!"#] (although this seems to imply greater retroflexion than is actually found), but this has been reinterpreted by younger speakers as [t$], as in words like strange. // and // in New Zealand are usually interdental fricatives rather than postdental fricatives. An apparently innovative dental variant of /s/ has been described in studies carried out in Auckland, but it is not yet clear whether this is a regionalism or how widespread it is. There is some loss of // in favour of /f/, but this is not yet a major tendency. 4.3.

/r/ and /l/

4.3.1. Variable rhoticity New Zealand English is usually described as being non-rhotic except for the Southland-Otago area where non-pre-vocalic /r/ is pronounced. Both characterizations leave something to be desired. First, although it is true that standard New Zealand English is generally nonrhotic, there are two words which are frequently heard with a non-prevocalic /r/. The first of these is the name of the consonant ‘R’, and the second is the name of the country Ireland. These are both heard with [$] across social classes and across regions. Other words or phrases are heard with sporadic non-prevocalic /r/. Expressions and catchwords borrowed from American TV programmes or movies are frequently pronounced with a pseudo-American /r/. Such expressions include whatever, wiener (as a term of abuse among children). This type of /r/-usage is clearly lexically driven. Some types of popular music appear to use non-prevocalic /r/ more systematically. A recent study of New Zealand hip-hop music by one of our students found that non-prevocalic /r/ was used systematically after the NURSE vowel (bird, heard), but nowhere else. This is despite the fact that this type of music is usually produced by people of Maori or Pacific Island ethnicities, who have no obvious reason to be more rhotic than anyone else. Finally, although it is true that the Southland-Otago region is more rhotic than other parts of New Zealand, the rhoticity is variable. It is particularly prevalent following the NURSE vowel, much rarer elsewhere (despite the fact that one of the words in which this type of pronunciation is most aped by the general populace

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is the word Gore, the name of the town perceived as being central to the area of rhoticity). 4.3.2. Consonant quality and vocalization Both /r/ and /l/ are devoiced in stressed onset position when preceded by a voiceless plosive. In this position, /l/ is usually pronounced [%], though /r/ is not consistently fricated. Devoicing following voiceless fricatives (in words like free, flea, slide, shrimp) is much less marked, and may be absent. We find fricative /r/ after both /t/ and /d/, voiceless in the first case, voiced in the second, e.g. in train and drain. Like RP, New Zealand English has clearly different allophones of /l/ in onset and in coda position. In onset position we usually find a slightly velarized lateral, [l&]. In coda position there is variation between a ‘darker’ lateral, perhaps [l], and a vowel of variable quality. This vocalized /l/ may merge with the preceding vowel (and recall that the number of contrasts before /l/ is diminished) to form a diphthong, or it may form a disyllabic sequence. Some typical outcomes are transcribed below. milk

mk, mk, hypercorrect mljk

smile bottle

sm o, sm e. , sme. ∞ bt, bt , bto, bt´l'

help

hæ p, h p (NB: there is potential clash with MOUTH here)

feels

fi. z, fi.z, fi.oz

One of the results of this is that most New Zealand speakers do not have a dental allophone of /l/, since the places where dental allophones arise in other varieties are precisely those where there is a vowel in New Zealand English. Following //, /r/ is variably realized as [(] in words like through, three. 4.3.3. Linking /r/ and linking /l/ (or [w]) in New Zealand Like other non-rhotic varieties of English, New Zealand English has both linking and intrusive /r/, and in precisely the same environments for which these are described in RP, for example. The interesting thing is that both appear to be variable, although really thorough studies of these phenomena are just beginning. A phrase such as far off may be pronounced as any of [f$f], [ff], [f f], [ff]. Self-conscious speech appears to prefer the version with []. At the same time, however, the use of intrusive /r/ is being extended to an environment following MOUTH. A common word in which this is heard is how[$]ever. It is not entirely clear

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why only MOUTH is affected. It might be assumed that such intrusion would take place only when MOUTH was monophthongized (and thus phonetically similar to START), but that does not seem to hold true. Just as linking /r/ developed with the vocalization of /r/, so a linking /l/ is developing with the vocalization of /l/. A word-final /l/ followed by a word-initial vowel in the same breath-group is resyllabified, and the onset-allophone is realized. This (along with speaker intuition – probably strongly influenced by orthography) is the strongest argument for seeing the vocalized version as still being an allophone of /l/. However, there is an alternative to a linking /l/, though it is not as common: it is linking /w/. Occasional pronunciations such as [fiwt] for feel it are heard alongside the expected [fil&t]. Such pronunciations suggest that the vocalization is starting to be reinterpreted as a new series of vowels. So far, linking [w] does not appear to be found word-internally. 4.4.

Glides

A distinction between /w/ and /hw/ was robust in New Zealand into the 1960s, distinguishing Wales from whales and witch from which, but now seems to be receding quickly. It has gone from the North Island except in a few conservative individuals and is in retreat in the South Island. It may end up being retained as a regional marker, though this currently seems unlikely. /w/ and /j/ are strongly devoiced following stressed-syllable-initial [p, t, k], and we could transcribe [tik], [c) ], [p) t] for tweak, queue, pewter. Similar devoicing of /j/ is found in words like huge, hue [) d, ) ]. There is often a rather strong palatal or labial-velar glide following respectively a front or back vowel in hiatus with another vowel. So in examples such as see it, allowing, doing, happiest there may be a stronger glide element than would be expected in RP, although there is still a distinction to be drawn between the glides in, for example, do one and do unlikely things. Yod-dropping is variable in New Zealand English. After /r/ in words like rule, /j/ has vanished, as elsewhere in English. After /l/, in words like lewd, illuminate, it is extremely rare, though it is retained where the relevant syllable does not carry primary stress in words like prelude. After // in words like enthuse, yod is very rare. After /s, z/ the presence or absence of yod is to some extent determined by the environment. In Zurich, which provides the only potential case of /zj / the /j/ is variable (possibly reflecting the German [y] pronunciation of the vowel, see below). After most /s/ types it has virtually vanished: for example Susan would never have a /j/ and super(intendent), superstitious etc. have /j/ only extremely rarely from very conservative speakers (these were still occasionally heard fifteen years ago, but have become much rarer). In the set of words including assume, consume, presume, resume there are many competing pronunciations. If we take assume as a model, we can find any of /sj m/, / m/, /s m/, /j m/, and the

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same variants arise for the other words in this set. The first of these is perceived as being the most standard, but the others are common. These words are the only place where /j/ clusters can arise. The clusters /tj/ and /dj/ usually coalesce to affricates, but there are a few exceptional words: tuna is usually /t n/ whether the large salt-water fish or the eel (from Maori tuna) is intended. The orthography never gives rise to /tj / pronunciations in Maori words. Yod-dropping is variable after /n/, especially in a few lexemes including new (particularly in New Zealand, Air New Zealand and similar high frequency collocations), nude and nuisance. The orthography in Maori words is nevertheless sometimes pronounced as /nj /. The glide /w/ is also regularly dropped in the words quart and quarter, with the result that quart and court/caught become homophonous. It is not clear whether this is lexical or due to the phonological environment, since there are so few words which fit this pattern.

5.

The pronunciation of Maori words in New Zealand English

A political language issue in New Zealand is the pronunciation of Maori words when they are used in English. Broadly, we can sketch two extreme positions: (i) an assimilationist position, according to which all Maori words are pronounced as English, and (ii) a nativist position, according to which all Maori words are pronounced as near to the original Maori pronunciation as possible. There are, of course, intermediate positions in actual usage. Some of the variation is caused by the fact that the original Maori pronunciation may not be easily determinable. Not only is vowel length sometimes variable even in traditional Maori, in some cases the etymology of place names may be in dispute within the Maori community (Paraparaumu provides an instance of this, where it is not clear whether the final umu is to be interpreted as ‘earth oven’ or not). Where vowels are concerned, the major difficulty in pronouncing Maori words with their original values is that vowel length (usually marked by macrons in Maori orthography, as in Māori) is rarely marked on public notices. Not only can this affect the way in which the particular vowel is pronounced, it can affect stress placement as well, since stress in Maori words is derivable from moraic structure. The reluctance to use macrons in public documents may simply be a typographical problem (even today with computer fonts easily available, very few newspapers or journals appear to have fonts with macrons available to them), but in the past has also been supported by the sentiments of Maori speakers who have found the macron unaesthetic. There may be good linguistic reasons for this, though they remain largely unexplored. The point is that although all vowels show contrastive length in Maori, long may be pronounced as short and short may be pronounced as long in English. Since Maori has no reduced vowels while English tends to

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reduce vowels in unstressed syllables (though this is less true of New Zealand English than it is of RP), almost any Maori vowel may be reduced under appropriate prosodic conditions. Where toponyms are concerned, there has also been a very strong Pakeha tradition towards abbreviating the longer names (a tradition which does not appear to spread to English names). For example, Paraparaumu is frequently called Paraparam, the Waimakariri river is called the Waimak, Wainuiomata is frequently called Wainui. While there is also a tradition for the abbreviation of names within Maori itself, and the two traditions may support each other to some extent, they appear to be largely distinct traditions with different outcomes. Pakeha abbreviations of toponyms are frowned upon within the nativist position on the pronunciation of Maori. Table 2 shows a range of possible pronunciations of the individual vowels of Maori, assuming that length has been correctly transferred to English. Table 3 provides some typical examples with a range of possible pronunciations, going from most nativist to most assimilationist. Maori pronunciations are also heard, and these may be considered to provide instances of code-shifting. Table 2. Typical values for vowels in Maori loan words used in English Maori vowel Short

Long

Nativist

Assimilationist

Nativist

Assimilationist

i E





i

i

e, æe / __ #

e, i / __ #

æe

æe

a ç














o



u



, 



 , j 

Table 3.

Some examples of Maori loan words in New Zealand English

Word

Maori value

English values

Aotearoa ‘New Zealand’

aç»t
a(ça

«tæe*®o˘, +æeti*®å¨

katipo ‘poisonous spider’

kati»pç˘

»ktp¨, »k
tip¨

manuka ‘tree species’

»ma˘n ka

»mnk, m»n¨k

pohutukawa ‘tree species’

p碻h t kawa

p+h¨t*kw

taonga ‘property, treasure’ »taça Wanganui toponym

waa»n i

»tæ¨N, tæe»ÅNg wÅN»n¨i, wÅN»nj¨I, wÅN»nj¨i

The assimilation of /a/ to /ç/ after /w/ appears also to be a feature of Maori, at last in some varieties.

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Maori diphthongs and vowel sequences do not transfer well to English. Maori /a
/ and /ç
/ are merged with Maori /ai/ and /çi/ respectively as English / e/ and /oe/. Similarly Maori /aç/ and /au/ may not be distinguished in English. Maori /au/, which in modern Maori is pronounced with a very central and raised allophone of /a/, is replaced by / / in nativist pronunciations (where it may merge with Maori /çu/), but by /æ / in assimilationist pronunciations. Because of the NEAR-SQUARE merger in New Zealand English, Maori /ia/ and /
a/ are not distinguished in English. Maori /
u/ is often transferred into English as /j¨/ (presumably on the basis of the orthography). Vowel sequences are transferred to English as sequences of the nearest appropriate vowel, but often involve vowel reduction in English which would not be used in Maori. Most Maori consonants have obvious and fixed correspondents in English, although this has not always been so. Some early borrowings show English /b, d, / for Maori (unaspirated) /p, t, k/ and occasionally English /d/ for Maori tapped /r/: for example English biddybid is from Maori piripiri. The phonetic qualities of the voiceless plosives and /r/ are now modified to fit with English habits. However, Maori // is variably reproduced in English as // or as //, especially when morpheme internal. (See the pronunciations of Wanganui given in Table 3.) Wordinitial // is always replaced in English by /n/. The Maori /f/, written as , has variable realizations in English. This is partly due to the orthography, partly due to variation in the relevant sounds in both English and Maori: [] is now rare as a rendering of graphic in English, and the /f/ pronunciation is an attempt at standardising variants as disparate as [f], [], [-], [w]. The toponym Whangarei may be pronounced /færæe, fræe, wræe, wræe/.

6.

Lexical distribution

There are not many differences in lexical distribution of vowels between New Zealand English and RP. The most obvious differences are listed below. basic because geyser gross

maroon off project

in old-fashioned pronunciation had TRAP in the first syllable, particularly in the combination basic slag; now FACE is usual variation between LOT, THOUGHT and STRUT always has stressed PRICE in the first syllable pronounced with GOAT when a children’s term meaning ‘disgusting’, often pronounced with LOT by adults in other meanings sometimes heard with GOAT in the second syllable a rare THOUGHT is still heard alongside the usual LOT variably pronounced with LOT or GOAT in the first syllable

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pronunciation proven tuna vitamin women worry yoghurt

non-standardly but frequently pronounced with MOUTH in the second syllable often pronounced with GOAT in the stressed syllable as an alternative to GOOSE frequently has no yod always has stressed PRICE in the first syllable pronounced as homophonous with woman, with FOOT in the first syllable increasingly with LOT has GOAT in the first syllable

When French loan-words which have /y/ in French are pronounced in New Zealand English, the /y/ is replaced with GOOSE rather than with a /j/ and then GOOSE. So we find things like debut /dæeb /. There is a marked tendency to spelling-pronunciation in New Zealand English. Trentham is pronounced with // (although Thames, Thomas and Thompson are not); Davis will be pronounced differently from Davies; Catriona is frequently pronounced /kætri* n/; occurrence, deterrent with NURSE as the stressed vowel are not infrequent; Wednesday may still be heard pronounced with two /d/s. Many other examples are heard sporadically.

7.

Prosodic features

7.1.

Lexical stress placement

Lexical stress in New Zealand English largely conforms to the pattern of RP. A few differences have been noted, such as spectator, dictator and frustrate stressed on the first syllable, and agriculture variably on first or third, as well as a tendency towards strong secondary stress in words ending in -ary/-ory. Some of these patterns may be attributable to the influence of other Englishes on New Zealand English such as Scottish English, or possibly American English in the case of spectator, dictator and frustrate. Unpublished studies of bisyllabic verb/noun pairs such as import and survey show that these also largely conform to the pattern of second syllable stress for verbs and first syllable stress for the noun, with the qualification that stress placement for the verb forms appears to be more variable. 7.2.

Rhythm

The use of full vowels in unstressed syllables in New Zealand English has been noted for some time. It affects both weak monosyllabic words – mainly function words – and weak syllables in polysyllabic words. A number of reasons can be

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conjectured for some of these full vowel forms. One is the unclear distinction between commA and horsES, meaning that contrasts which in other varieties may be dependent on this (e.g. affect vs. effect) are realized differently – if at all – in New Zealand English. Another is spelling pronunciation, possibly accounting for a full vowel in the first syllable of botanical and placate, for instance. A third factor involves the rhythm of New Zealand English, which has been claimed to be more syllable-timed than in other varieties. This tendency towards syllable-timing (which is not nearly as marked as for some varieties such as Singapore English) is reflected in the equalization of stressed and unstressed syllables (full vowels for reduced, long vowels for short), as well as in overall timing structures. Contact with the Maori language, with its mora-based timing, could have contributed to the rhythmic pattern of New Zealand English (see the chapter on Maori English). 7.3.

Intonation

The most widely noted intonational feature of New Zealand English is the High Rising Terminal, a rising nucleus high in the speaker’s pitch range that is found on declaratives. This feature is not unique to New Zealand English. Sociolinguistic studies have shown that this feature is a positive politeness marker, and functions to include the hearer in the discourse. Other aspects of New Zealand English intonation that have been commented on include a relatively ‘flat’ but high intonation pattern through most of the tone unit, with extreme and quite sudden nuclear pitch movements.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Catford, John C. 1977 Fundamental Problems in Phonetics. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Easton, Anita and Laurie Bauer 2000 An acoustic study of the vowels of New Zealand English. Australian Journal of Linguistics 20: 93−117. Hall, Moira 1976 An acoustic analysis of New Zealand vowels. M.A. thesis, University of Auckland. Maclagan, Margaret A. 1982 An acoustic study of New Zealand vowels. The New Zealand Speech Therapists’ Journal 37: 20–26.

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Watson, Catherine I., Jonathan Harrington and Zoe Evans 1998 An acoustic comparison between New Zealand and Australian English vowels. Australian Journal of Linguistics 18: 185–207.

Regional and social differences in New Zealand: phonology Elizabeth Gordon and Margaret Maclagan

1.

Historical background

The beginning of the main European settlement of New Zealand is usually dated from 1840, when representatives of the British government signed the Treaty of Waitangi with about 430 Maori chiefs. From 1840 to 1880 the European population of New Zealand grew from about 2,000 people to half a million and by the 1880s the number of New-Zealand-born in the non-Maori population had exceeded the number of immigrants. In this period between 1840 and 1880 the immigrants came mainly from the British Isles; 49% came from England, 22% from Scotland, 20% from Ireland and 7% from Australia (McKinnon 1997). The first immigrants came to planned settlements, established by the New Zealand Company, where there was some attempt to control the mix and the nature of the colonists. This soon proved to be ineffectual, and in 1861 with the discovery of gold thousands of immigrants arrived in an unplanned way, including considerable numbers of Irish Catholics, a group the original planners had tried to exclude. In the 1860s, there was a period of conflict, now known as the New Zealand Wars, between Europeans and certain North Island Maori tribes, which saw large numbers of soldiers brought into New Zealand. They were given land when they were eventually discharged and they also became settlers. In the 1870s, large numbers of immigrants arrived, recruited and paid for by the New Zealand government. In 1874 alone, 32,000 assisted immigrants arrived in New Zealand. The early settlers were a diverse collection of people who had come to New Zealand for a better life. We know that in spite of different circumstances, historical events and social situations, in a relatively short period of time very different individuals in all parts of the country were beginning to develop a common language, so that by the end of the 19th century complaints were being heard all over New Zealand of a “colonial twang”, something akin to “Austral English” (though not quite so bad) the product of “the home and the street”. Throughout the early part of the 20th century the complaints grew in number and ferocity. The new New Zealand accent was said to be an abomination, so bad that it could even cause “minor throat and chest disorders” (quoted in Gordon and Deverson 1998: 162). At the same time there were consistent complaints about New Zealanders who tried to emulate Received Pronunciation (RP). A member of a Commission on Education in 1912 complained: “What hope is there for change when we find two of the

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Principals of the largest secondary schools in New Zealand in giving evidence, using these expressions: ‘taim-table’ for ‘time-table’; ‘Ai’ for ‘I’; ‘may own’ for ‘my own’; ‘faive’ for ‘five’; ‘gairls’ for ‘girls’.” (Appendices to the Journal of the House of Representatives, E-12: 624) Recent research at the University of Canterbury has shown that the earliest manifestations of the New Zealand accent probably occurred much earlier than the appearance of written complaints. The analysis of a 1940s archive of recordings of old New Zealanders, some born as early as the 1850s (the Mobile Unit archive), shows that the rate of development of the NZ accent depended very much on social factors. Speakers from homogeneous towns, like Milton or Kaitangata in Otago for example, where the majority of the settlers came from Scotland, were more likely to retain features of Scottish pronunciation and syntax. Speakers from towns with a very mixed population, like the Otago gold-mining town of Arrowtown, for example, were more likely to develop early manifestations of New Zealand English.

2.

Regional variation in New Zealand English

The early immigrants to New Zealand came from all parts of the British Isles and Australia. Of those who came from England (who made up 49% of the total – see above), by far the largest number of immigrants came from the South of England, and this was the trend at every stage of New Zealand’s development. People from the south, and in particular the southeast, made up a majority of the earliest settlers in the planned settlements (1840–1852); they made up the majority in later government-assisted immigration schemes (1871–1880). The Southern English influence could also have been reinforced by any Australian influence (seen especially at the time of the gold rush and the New Zealand Wars), as Australia was also settled predominantly from the South of England. So although over 20% of the early immigrants to New Zealand were Scottish and a similar percentage were Irish, in the end their phonological influence was overwhelmed by Southern English; the influence of other areas of the British Isles can be seen only in a few lexical and morphological examples. Table 1.

New Zealand locations of UK immigrants (1871) (taken from http://www.nzhis tory.net.nz/gallery/brit-nz/)

Auckland Taranaki Hawke’s Bay Wellington

English

Scottish

Irish

54.9 69.6 55.2 63.5

17.0 9.5 20.9 20.0

27.2 20.5 23.2 15.4

Regional and social differences in New Zealand: phonology Table 1.

605

(cont.) New Zealand locations of UK immigrants (1871) (taken from http://www. nzhistory.net.nz/gallery/brit-nz/)

Nelson Marlborough Canterbury Westland Otago Southland New Zealand

English

Scottish

Irish

56.4 62.1 62.7 40.1 31.0 24.4 49.7

15.9 20.4 16.9 19.9 51.5 61.4 27.3

25.9 16.4 19.4 37.9 16.9 13.9 22.0

There is one exception to this general rule, and that is in the Southern part of the South Island of New Zealand – Southland and parts of Otago – where many of the early settlements were predominantly Scottish as shown in Table 1. This influence can still be heard in what is known locally as “the Southland burr”, a semi-rhotic variant of New Zealand English (NZE). Although the Southland variety of NZE is the only regional variety attested by linguists, there are strongly held lay views that there are other dialects of NZE. A recent broadcast series on “Coastal Dialects of NZE”, for example, claimed that there were strong regional differences in New Zealand. These programmes based this assertion on recordings of single speakers from different parts of New Zealand, without any linguistic comment or discussion. Work by Pamela Gordon (1997) on attitudes towards varieties of NZE demonstrated strongly held local beliefs about the “pseudo-English” of Christchurch and Canterbury, the slowness of West Coast speech, and so on. The view of linguists is that regional phonological variation in New Zealand (apart from Southland) has so far not been demonstrated. However, new evidence is currently emerging that there are intonational differences in Taranaki in the North Island. Folk linguistic knowledge has described Taranaki intonation as “sing song”, and analysis is demonstrating that there are, indeed, more pitch shifts per intonation unit than in other areas of New Zealand. Results like this indicate that detailed analysis may reveal some differences in other regions around the country. Nevertheless such regional differences are minor when compared with those that characterise dialects in other varieties of English, or the Southland variety of NZE to which we now turn.

2.1.

The Southland variety of NZE

The Southland variety of NZE has been commented on for many years but has only recently been the subject of systematic research. In the 1990s Chris Bartlett carried

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out interviews in Invercargill and rural districts of eastern and central Southland with speakers from three age groups: 15–19 years, 40–49 years and 65 years and over (see Bartlett 1992). He found that while the majority of the phonological features of Southland English (SldE) appear to fall within the normal range of variation for NZE there were also some distinctive features. The primary consonantal feature of SldE is the presence of rhotic forms, which has always been the salient diagnostic feature of the variety. Bartlett indicates that the realisation of postvocalic /r/ in SldE is approximal rather than rolled or flapped. He found considerable variation in the degrees of rhoticity ranging from nearly fully-rhotic speakers (especially older males from rural areas) to non-rhotic speakers. However, partially rhotic speakers were in the majority with extremes being rare. Bartlett’s research has shown that phonological context is highly significant in the mechanism of /r/ maintenance (or loss). In words like first term (the standard lexical set NURSE) the /r/ is more consistently maintained than in any other context, though in this context it is realised as an r-coloured vowel. Younger speakers produce more tokens of /r/ in this context than do older speakers. The /r/ in word final position (e.g. in car) or a syllabic /r/ (e.g. in letter) is maintained to widely varying degrees. Preconsonantal /r/ (e.g. card, fort) is less likely to be maintained by a partially rhotic speaker. Bartlett’s research found that rural speakers over the age of 65 were more likely to be rhotic; those aged 40–49 were variably rhotic and those 20–29 were likely to maintain the /r/ only on the NURSE vowel. Examples of speakers from these three age groups are given on the accompanying audio clip. Bartlett found two other less marked phonological characteristics in his study of Southland. It is often noted that Southland speakers use the TRAP vowel in the BATH lexical set. This usage is declining rapidly, though older Southland speakers still use TRAP in the word castle and also in dance and chance. In younger speakers, TRAP is being replaced by the standard NZE BATH. He also found that older speakers retained a contrast between /„/and /w/ as in which and witch. There was a correlation between the age of the speaker and the extent of /„/ retention, with older speakers retaining /„/ in a greater variety of words. All speakers were more likely to retain it in lexical words than in grammatical words. Bauer and Warren (this volume) note that the /„/ ~ /w/ distinction is disappearing in NZE. It appears to be being retained for a slightly longer time in Southland. The three Southland speakers in the attached audio clip illustrate the gradual loss of rhoticity in Southland speakers over time. Arthur, aged 77 (the oldest speaker), is rhotic on almost every opportunity. He is rhotic on THOUGHT, START, MOUTH and NEAR as well as NURSE and lettER. The only potential site for rhoticity that is not realised is in board. Paul, aged 44 (the middle aged speaker), is considerably more variable. Never and farm are sometimes pronounced with rhotic vowels and sometimes without. He has two examples of rhotic START (farm and car), but most of the rhotic vowels are NURSE and lettER. Jim, aged 16 (the youngest speaker),

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uses a rhotic vowel for all the tokens of NURSE, but not for lettER or for any other vowels. There are no examples of possible voiceless /„/ in content words for any of the speakers. Arthur, however, uses a voiceless /„/ for whether, but not on any other function word. Neither Paul nor Jim use /„/ on function words. There are no examples of chance words in these recordings.

3.

Social class variation in New Zealand

The earliest settlements in New Zealand planned by the New Zealand Company aimed to replicate a vertical slice of British society with the top and the bottom levels removed so that there were not large numbers of people from the highest class in Britain or the very lowest class: The pioneers of New Zealand were not from the highest, nor were they usually from the most down-trodden sections of British society. They were people who while poor, while usually from the upper working class or lower middle class – ‘the anxious classes’ Wakefield called them – had lost neither enterprise nor ambition. (Sinclair 1991: 101)

Social class stratification in early New Zealand settlements differed from Britain. The historian James Belich (1996: 321) remarks: “Colonial life blurred class boundaries and mixed together all elements of society. Jack considered himself in many respects as good as his master. But there were still boundaries to blur and elements to mix. Master was still master, and Jack was still Jack”. Evidence from the Mobile Unit archive shows that some of those who would have been considered upper class in New Zealand maintained strong ties with Britain and their speech shows little or no evidence of a New Zealand accent. Miss Brenda Bell, for example, a third generation New Zealander born in 1880 in Otago who talks at length about her titled ancestors, and who was educated by an imported English governess, speaks old-fashioned RP. Mrs Catherine Dudley, born six years later also in Otago, who was married to a road mender, is always identified by New Zealand university students as “sounding like a New Zealander”. Although New Zealanders like to portray themselves as a “classless society” it is widely recognised that social class differences exist in present-day New Zealand. Social scientists, however, are very wary of using imported standards of classification. The standard New Zealand index used by social scientists to assign social class (Elley and Irving 1985) is based on occupation, and needs to be used with some caution. The Elley-Irving scale gives a numerical category of 6 to those in the lowest social class (e.g. unskilled labourers and supermarket checkout assistants) and 1 to professional workers (e.g. lawyers, doctors and university lecturers). For recordings in the Canterbury Corpus archive at the University of Canterbury (see Maclagan, Gordon and Lewis 1999), a revised version of the Elley-Irving scale prepared by the New Zealand Ministry of Education (1990) is

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used for occupations. A 6-point education scale is also used where a rating of 6 is given to those who have no secondary school education and 1 to those with a Ph.D. or higher tertiary degree. The two ratings are combined so that the final social class categorisation is based on both occupation and education. However, the conventional method of classification used to define social class variation within NZE is the system devised for Australian English by Mitchell and Delbridge (1965) of Cultivated NZE, General NZE and Broad NZE. On a continuum, Cultivated NZE is nearer to RP, and Broad NZE is farthest from RP. These are not discrete categories but rather points on a continuum. 3.1.

Cultivated, General and Broad NZE

Differences because of social class are clearly identifiable in present-day NZE. The three young women in the accompanying audio clip were selected in terms of social class. Karen is from a middle social class, Christine from a lower social class and Wendy from a higher social class. However, the recordings can be clearly differentiated linguistically as can be heard in the accompanying audio clip. Wendy speaks Cultivated NZE, Karen General NZE and Christine Broad NZE. The letter they are reading is widely used in investigations of NZE. It contains most of the key vowels in stressed position. The text is given in Table 2. Table 2. Text of letter containing features characteristic of NZE Dear Mum and Dad, Hi, How are you? Well here I am in the big city. Although the weather is nice at the moment the forecast is for hail, but that should soon clear. I bought a new coat because they say it gets really cold. I have to stay at Auntie Deb’s house for now but I’m hoping to get a flat soon. The trip up was great even though it took about ten hours. Well I must go. You know how rarely I write, but I’ll try to do better this year. Love, Claire.

Social class is marked most clearly by the pronunciation of the closing diphthongs, FACE, PRICE, GOAT and MOUTH, with women from higher social classes in particular avoiding pronunciations associated with lower social classes. The front vowels, KIT, DRESS and TRAP and the centring diphthongs NEAR and SQUARE also receive different pronunciations from different social groups. The consonant that shows social class differentiation most clearly is //, which is fronted, so that think is pronounced /fk/ by many speakers from lower social classes. TH-fronting is overtly stigmatised by those who speak Cultivated NZE, and speakers from the higher social classes avoid it. Another consonant which shows social class differ-

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entiation is /l/, which is vocalised less by speakers of Cultivated NZE. Cultivated NZE speakers are also less likely to use flaps in words like city or to affricate /tr/ and /str/ so that they sound like [t$/] and [t$/]. In the previous section, we noted that the /„/ ~ /w/ contrast is still maintained by some speakers in Southland. Some older women from the higher social classes from other parts of the country also maintain this distinction, but more often in reading than in speech. Table 3 compares the pronunciation of Cultivated and Broad speakers of NZE. Most of these features are illustrated in the recordings. Table 3. The main differences between Cultivated and Broad NZE Variable

Cultivated NZE speaker

Broad NZE speaker

kit

0



DRESS

e

e

TRAP







FACE

æe1

e

PRICE

A1e

Å3>e or çe

MOUTH

a

e

GOAT





NEAR/SQUARE

i (e ) / e

i FOR BOTH

Dark /l/

often […]

usually []

Intervocalic /t/

usually [tH]

usually [(]

/tr/ and /str/

usually [t$/] and [st$/]

usually [t$/] and [t$/] or [t$/]

//



f, especially in with

/„/

[w] or [„]

[w]

The consequences of using a Broad NZE accent can be particularly marked for women. In 1993 Elizabeth Gordon carried out a study (Gordon 1997) where subjects listened to recordings of the three young women chosen to represent Cultivated, General and Broad NZE in the audio clip described above. They were then asked to match the individual recordings to three different photos of the same model wearing clothes chosen to represent three social classes − higher to lower. Subjects were then given subjective tests in which they answered questions about each person represented by the voice/photo pairings. The results showed very clearly that the clothes and speech variety associated with a young lower class New Zealand woman produced a depressing stereotype, in which she was said to

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have the lowest intelligence, lowest family income, and be most likely to smoke and to be promiscuous. When asked for a possible occupation, the most frequent responses given by the subjects were “unemployed,” “single parent” or “prostitute”.

4.

Sound change in progress

Many of the phonemes mentioned in the previous sections are currently undergoing change in NZE. The post-vocalic /r/ that is still heard in Southland, for example, is decreasing markedly in frequency. Some older rural males, for example, still use it over 80% of the time, but most younger urban speakers use it only after the NURSE vowel and no more than 20% of the time. As post-vocalic /r/ has decreased in most contexts in Southland, urban speakers have increased their use of a rhotic NURSE vowel, so that it may be becoming a mark of Southland identity. These patterns are demonstrated in the audio clips from the three Southland speakers, described above. The /„/ ~ /w/ distinction that is still maintained by some speakers in Southland has almost disappeared elsewhere. Older women from higher social classes now use it less than 50% of the time in reading tasks and less still in conversation. The most salient class markers, the closing diphthongs FACE, PRICE, MOUTH and GOAT, have changed slightly over time, but the relative differences between Cultivated and Broad pronunciations have been maintained. Younger speakers, however, both male and female, are leading in the move to pronounce the second element of MOUTH as [ ] rather than a [] or [ ]. We will consider the vowel changes that are currently taking place in NZE followed by the consonantal changes. Most of the information in this section comes from analyses of the Canterbury Corpus, an archive held at the University of Canterbury which consists of over 350 recordings of speakers chosen so that there are approximately equal numbers of younger (20–30 years) and older (45–60 years) speakers, of upper and lower social class speakers and of men and women (see Maclagan and Gordon 1999). Each speaker reads a word list designed to emphasise features of NZE and engages in 30 minutes of casual conversation with a student interviewer. 4.1.

Vowel changes

The most obvious vowel change taking place in NZE is the merger between the vowels of NEAR and SQUARE, so that ear and air or cheer and chair can no longer be distinguished. Because these two vowels are relatively rare, it is usually only the word pair really and rarely that causes comprehension problems − did they really do something, or was it only rarely? Gordon and Maclagan have followed the progress of this merger for twenty years, and it has now worked its way through

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most of the social and age groups studied. Most New Zealand speakers pronounce all NEAR and SQUARE words with a close onset [i ], but some older women of the higher social classes use a more open onset for some NEAR words, as Wendy did for really on the audio clip. Over the twentieth century the front vowels DRESS and TRAP raised (to [e] and [
] for the most advanced speakers), and KIT centralised and lowered so that the most advanced NZE speakers now use a vowel more open than schwa []. Australian English KIT raised over the same period so that the pronunciation of KIT is one of the most striking differences between the two varieties of English, and one that is commented on by speakers in both countries. New Zealanders accuse Australians of saying feesh and cheeps and Australians accuse New Zealanders of saying fush and chups. Very few New Zealand speakers now use a vowel that is as front as [] for KIT, though some older Maori or higher social class Pakeha women, i.e. women of European descent, still may. Within New Zealand the changes to the front vowels are not stigmatised, and young women who would not dream of using Broad NZE variants of the closing diphthongs use the most advanced variants of KIT, DRESS and TRAP, leading to what we have called “the white rabbit [„aet $
bt] phenomenon”, where the stigmatised PRICE diphthong in white receives a conservative pronunciation but the non-stigmatised TRAP vowel in rabbit receives an advanced pronunciation. A different sort of change that is increasingly common in NZE is the pronunciation of -own past participles like grown, known and thrown as disyllables /ro n/, /no n/ and /ro n/, presumably on the model of words like take, taken. There are very few such participles, but the disyllabic pronunciation produces the new minimal pairs of grown, groan, mown, moan and thrown, throne. The disyllabic pronunciation is now used by approximately 50% of all speakers middle-aged and younger, regardless of social class, so that it seems that both the monosyllable grown pronunciations and the disyllable growen pronunciations are now regarded as equally correct within New Zealand. 4.2.

Consonantal changes

The vocalisation of /l/ mentioned under social class is a consonantal change that is very advanced in New Zealand. In this change, post-vocalic /l/ (also called ‘dark’ /l/) which is articulated with the back of the tongue raised, loses its tongue tip contact so that it is articulated as the vowel [] or [3]. Women from the higher social class in the Canterbury Corpus still use an alveolar lateral when this sound occurs in a word list just over 60% of the time, but the younger, lower social class speakers, both male and female, now vocalise /l/ almost 70% of the time even in this most formal of contexts. The rate of /l/-vocalisation is higher still in casual speech. /l/-vocalisation has reached the level of consciousness within New Zealand, and people write letters of complaint to the paper about it (one writer

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complained about seeing a sign advertising warnuts for sale). /l/ has not yet been lost in most words, so that child and chide are still distinct. Vocalisation of postvocalic /l/ is parallel to the loss of post-vocalic /r/, and eventually the /l/ in child may be completely lost so that child and chide become homophonous as father and farther are in NZE. Another consonantal change that is moving quickly in NZE is the affrication of / tr/ and /str/. The /t/ in /tr/ has always partially devoiced the following /r/ so that the cluster has been pronounced with friction in NZE. Now, however, the lips are being rounded, and the cluster is pronounced as though it were spelt chr, so that tree is now pronounced [t$/i]. /str/ is also affected so that street may be pronounced [t$/it] or even [t$/it]. People are not yet aware of this sound change, so we have not yet found letters complaining about it. The younger lower class males are in the lead with affrication for more than 60% of word list tokens. The other younger speakers and the older lower class males affricate approximately 40% of tokens, while the older female professional speakers affricate less than 20%. TH-fronting, where mother is pronounced as /m√v /, is still avoided in formal contexts by people from the higher social classes. Its use is spreading rapidly among younger speakers from the lower social classes, women as well as men. It now reaches just over the 5% level for young, lower class males in the Canterbury Corpus reading tasks, but is considerably more common in the casual conversation. The first word to be pronounced with /f/ for most speakers is with. If a speaker does not say /wf/, they will probably not use /f/ for // in other words either. There are already two possible pronunciations for with in NZE, /w/ and /w/. It has been suggested that the variability in the pronunciation of this word created the conditions for the development of the new pronunciation, /wf/ or /wv/. Informal observation indicates that words like the and them are often spelt ve and vem by young children who are just learning to read and spell. Another consonantal change that is also still not common in formal speech is flapping or tapping of /t/ in intervocalic position in words like city or letter. Although it is very common in the conversations, only 11% of the Canterbury Corpus speakers use flaps in the word lists. However, each set of words in these word lists is preceded by a number which the speakers read out. Although only 11% of speakers use flaps on the words in the list, 55% use flaps in some of the numbers, especially thirteen, fourteen and thirty. Speakers do not consider that the numbers are part of the word list, and use a more casual style in reading them thus demonstrating that /t/ flaps are used much more often in more casual speech. As expected, older, higher social class women seldom use them. In the Canterbury Corpus, the lower social class men, older as well as younger, are leading this change, though the younger, lower class women are close behind them. There is little indication yet that the younger higher class women are involved, though other research has shown them using a high percentage of /t/ flaps in casual speech.

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Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Bartlett, Christopher 1992 Regional variation in New Zealand English: the case of Southland. New Zealand English Newsletter 6: 5–15. Belich, James 1996 Making Peoples. Harmondsworth: Allen Lane. Elley, Warwick B. and James C. Irving 1985 The Elley-Irving socio-economic index: 1981 census revision. New Zealand Journal of Educational Studies 20: 115–128. Gordon, Elizabeth M. 1997 Sex, speech and stereotypes: why women use prestige forms more than men. Language in Society 26: 47–63. Gordon, Pamela 1997 What New Zealanders believe about regional variation in New Zealand English: a folklinguistic investigation. New Zealand English Journal 11: 14– 25. Gordon, Elizabeth and Tony Deverson 1998 New Zealand English and English in New Zealand. Auckland: New House Publishers. Maclagan, Margaret A. and Elizabeth Gordon 1999 Data for New Zealand social dialectology: the Canterbury Corpus. New Zealand English Journal 13: 50–58. Maclagan, Margaret A., Elizabeth Gordon and Gillian Lewis 1999 Women and sound change: conservative and innovative behaviour by the same speakers. Language Variation and Change 11: 19–41. McKinnon, Malcolm (ed.) 1997 New Zealand Historical Atlas. Auckland: Bateman. Mitchell, Alex G. and Arthur Delbridge 1965 The Speech of Australian Adolescents. Sydney: Angus and Robertson. Sinclair, Keith 1991 A History of New Zealand. Auckland: Penguin.

Maori English: phonology Paul Warren and Laurie Bauer

1.

Introduction

1.1.

Background

The existence of a particular variety of New Zealand English referred to as ‘Maori English’ has been indicated for some time, yet many commentators have noted that the variety continues to be rather elusive. Nevertheless, there are several distinguishing features that are generally agreed on, and these will be outlined later in this chapter. An important fact to note at the outset is that these features are largely also features that can characterize ‘Pakeha’ New Zealand English (‘Pakeha’ is a term widespread amongst both Maori and European New Zealanders that is used to refer to the latter). The difference is that these features are more clearly evident (in terms of degree, consistency and their co-occurrence) in Maori English than in Pakeha English, and it is this that makes it a distinct variety. It is a variety that is used by its speakers as an expression of ethnic and cultural identity, regrettably replacing the Maori language in that function for many speakers. It has also been suggested (e.g. Richards 1970) that there are two types of Maori English, one possibly ‘broader’ than the other. The existence and use of a Maori English variety has not always been welcomed, notably in official education documentation in the 1970s. The ancestors of the present Maori people were Polynesian explorers who first arrived in New Zealand around AD 925. They came into increasing contact with English from the time of early European settlement, and were quick to adopt English as a language of trade and negotiation. From the middle of the nineteenth century, scarcely more than a century after European settlement began in earnest, English speakers outnumbered Maori speakers. Unsurprisingly English had a marked impact on the Maori language, not only in terms of the ensuing threat to its very existence, but also on aspects of its pronunciation (such as the aspiration of previously largely unaspirated voiceless plosives). Maori, as a contact language, has in turn had an influence on the English of New Zealanders and can be implicated in a number of features identified in the chapter on New Zealand English phonology, as well as on the lexis of New Zealand English. It is in this last characteristic that Maori English is possibly also most distinguishable from Pakeha New Zealand English, i.e. in the level of incidence of terms (largely but not exclusively relating to features of Maori culture) from the Maori language.

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The phonology of Maori is considerably simpler than that of English, with five vowels /i,
, a, ç, u/ and ten consonants /p, t, k, m, n, , f, h, r, w/ in a (C)V(V) syllable structure. The vowels in a VV sequence can be identical (i.e. a long vowel) or different. If different, they may yield a diphthong or a disyllabic sequence, depending on the vowels concerned, but also on the context: in situations requiring greater clarity disyllabic sequences become more common. Voiceless stops were originally unaspirated, but have increasingly become aspirated under the influence of English. /t, n/ can be alveolar or dental, /r/ is a voiced alveolar tap. The nature of /f/ varies between dialects of Maori: it was written wh by the early missionaries, suggesting that it was heard as [„], though [∏] is also heard. A further significant feature of Maori concerns its rhythm, which is mora-timed. Where Maori is concerned, a mora is a unit of length such that a short vowel constitutes a single mora and a long vowel or diphthong constitutes two. In mora-timing, a sequence of two syllables each containing one short vowel is rhythmically equivalent to a single syllable containing a long vowel. The following sections highlight some of the distinctive features observed for Maori English. In other respects, Maori English shows the same characteristics as New Zealand English, and so the reader is referred also to the chapter on New Zealand English phonology (Bauer and Warren, this volume). 1.2.

‘Maori English’

It should be noted at the outset that Maori English is not a homogeneous variety, and that there may be several distinguishable Maori Englishes. It should also be noted that there is a great deal of research which indicates clearly that Maori English cannot simply be equated with ‘the English spoken by people of Maori ethnicity’. There are Pakehas who speak Maori English, and Maori people who speak Pakeha English. Experiments in which New Zealanders are asked to judge the ethnicity of other New Zealanders on the basis of their accent typically find low rates of accuracy. What we are dealing with is, thus, to some extent a stereotype of a variety, a stereotype which is nevertheless well recognized in New Zealand. Bell (2000) terms it ‘Maori Vernacular English’ or ‘MVE’. Because this stereotype is most often met among young men of relatively low socio-economic status, the variety has low overt prestige in New Zealand. Speakers of high socioeconomic status or speakers who aspire to high socio-economic status may use a very modified version of Maori English, although they may also be bi-dialectal. Most of the speakers in the sound recordings deviate from the most stereotypical forms of Maori English in this way, although they do have audible ‘Maori’ features in their speech. As noted above, for many Maori people, Maori English appears to provide an expression of identity, and as such has its own set of values attached to it, separate from the low overt prestige it bears within the Pakeha community.

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2.

Phonological systems

The systems of Maori English are fundamentally those of New Zealand English, and usually relatable to the variants that are found in the broader realizations of that variety. We continue to use the same notation as is used in the chapter on the phonology of New Zealand English (Bauer and Warren, this volume). Alongside the English system, speakers of Maori English frequently have a Maori system which they use when code-switching into Maori (or, an alternative interpretation, when using Maori loan words in their English). This is a marked contrast to the way in which most Pakeha speakers of English in New Zealand operate, where Maori loan words are assimilated to the English sound system to a much greater extent. This shift to a Maori system can be heard on personal names and toponyms as well as on Maori terms used in the middle of English sentences. This relatively dense use of Maori vocabulary is a marker of one particular type of Maori English, and the Maori terms which will be used are not (from a Pakeha point of view) entirely predictable – although words for Maori cultural institutions are clearly among them.

3.

The vowels

3.1.

The acoustic structure of the vowels

The values for formants 1 and 2 of the more monophthongal of the Maori English vowels are presented in the table below. These figures are for male Maori speakers from Kaikohe, analysed by Hall (1976). They may represent old fashioned values, and they may also represent regionally specific values, but we have no other comparable figures. Table 1. Vowel formant figures for Maori male speakers (Hall 1976) Vowel

F1

F2

FLEECE

383 447 461 593 773 830 687 479 457

2387 2277 2236 2010 1480 1443 1057 807 1285

KIT DRESS TRAP STRUT START LOT FORCE FOOT

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Table 1. (continued) Vowel formant figures for Maori male speakers (Hall 1976) Vowel

F1

F2

GOOSE

417 480

1389 1767

NURSE

Patterns of neutralization appear to be similar to those for general New Zealand English, with a similar range of variation. There is in Maori a general rule of phrase-final vowel devoicing, especially for close vowels. Although there are some reports of this phenomenon being transferred to Maori English, we have not heard it. 3.2.

The short vowels

The KIT vowel is considerably less centralized in Maori English than in Pakeha English, possibly as a result of the Maori substrate short /i/, which has the same quality as Maori long /i/. The LOT vowel is rather more peripheral than in Pakeha English, with a quality like [ç4]. 3.3.

The long vowels

The FLEECE vowel is probably rather less diphthongized than in Pakeha English, and possibly a little closer, reflecting the quality of Maori /i/. The BATH/START vowel is backer than in Pakeha English, while still not clearly a back vowel. The THOUGHT/FORCE vowel is slightly less close than the corresponding vowel in Pakeha English, perhaps [o]. The GOOSE vowel is even more fronted in Maori English than in Pakeha English: Bell (2000) suggests a quality such as [y] in many cases. The fronting of Maori /u/ is usually attributed to the influence of English. Perhaps the perception of English GOOSE as fronter than Maori /u/ has led to the very front GOOSE vowel in Maori English. 3.4.

The diphthongs

The diphthongs do not differ in terms of variants heard from those which occur in other varieties of New Zealand English, although claims have been made that the NEAR-SQUARE merger is on a more open variant in Maori English than in Pakeha English.

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4.

The consonants

4.1.

The plosives

Despite the fact that Maori plosives have generally become aspirated (presumably, though not necessarily, because of contact with English), there is variable loss of aspiration on voiceless plosives in Maori English. Figures of around 20% deaspiration are frequently cited, although this may include instances where the stop is aspirated, but not as strongly as would be the norm in other varieties of English. The discussion is sometimes focussed on /t/, where the frequent affrication in general New Zealand English may provide a confusing factor. Intervocalic /t/ is tapped as in other varieties of New Zealand English. 4.2.

The fricatives

Devoicing of voiced fricatives was commented on as being a feature of general New Zealand English, but it is an even stronger feature of Maori English. Again figures of around 20% total devoicing are cited. The discussion in the literature centers on /z/ devoicing, but the other voiced fricatives are also devoiced, though we have no quantitative studies of the extent of such devoicing. The dental fricatives are sometimes replaced, not by labio-dentals (as might be expected given both English variation and the structure of Maori) but by affricates, [t] and [d]. 4.3.

/r/ and /l/

The fact that Maori has only one liquid, usually pronounced as an alveolar tap [(], but occasionally heard as a lateral, might lead to the expectation that /r/ and /l/ would be confused in Maori English or that /r/ would be tapped. There is no such evidence, except for the usual possible tapping after // in words like thread. The lack of tapped /(/ may be the result of the fact that intervocalic /t/ is tapped.

5.

Lexical distribution

There is little difference between the lexical distribution of sounds in New Zealand English and in Maori English. The use of the LOT vowel in the first syllable of worry is perhaps more frequent in Maori English, and some spelling pronunciations may also be more frequent in Maori English.

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Prosodic features

Studies of the rhythm of New Zealand English have observed that Maori English in particular strongly reflects a tendency towards syllable-based timing found more generally in New Zealand varieties. Syllable-based timing is where there is a near-equal interval between the beginnings of adjacent syllables, regardless of the type of syllable. This contrasts with stress-based timing, typically attested for most main varieties of English, where the unit of rhythm is the stress foot. In stress-based timing the intervals between the beginnings of stressed syllables are near-equal, regardless of the number of unstressed syllables between the stressed syllables. The tendency towards syllable-based timing has been demonstrated both in acoustic comparison of the timing patterns with those of Received Pronunciation, and in the greater incidence of full vowels for weak vowels in unstressed syllables (Warren 1999). As with other varieties, such as Singapore English, differences in timing patterns may be the influence of contact, in this case with Maori. Maori itself is mora-timed, as mentioned above, but it has been observed that the influence of mora-based timing on a stress-timed language such as English is comparable to that of syllable-based timing (Grabe and Low 2002). It seems likely that the most distinctive feature of stereotypical Maori English is the voice quality, with, however, men’s and women’s voice qualities being different. For male speech some of the following features seem to characterize Maori English: lowered larynx, greater lingual tension, a degree of pharyngealization (constriction of the pharynx during speaking, resulting in a “dark” voice quality), possibly greater nasalization than is used in Pakeha English (for further descriptions of voice qualities, see Laver 1994, chapter 13). According to Robertson (1994) speech rate may correlate with Maori English, speakers who are identified as Maori speaking rather more slowly in reading and rather faster in conversation than speakers who are identified as Pakeha. This has not been confirmed on a wider sample of speakers.

7.

Intonation patterns

The high rate of use of High Rising Terminals (HRTs) was noted in the chapter on New Zealand English. This intonation pattern is prevalent also in Maori English, and may indeed be in more general use than in Pakeha English, where HRT use is more typical of female speakers than male speakers (Bell and Johnson 1997). It has also been commented that Maori speakers maintain a relatively high level of pitch overall, which may also be an influence from Maori.

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8.

The sound recordings

Because of the very nature of Maori English, getting good recordings of this variety in formal settings, in a Pakeha institution (a university) and with Pakeha researchers is difficult. None of the recordings provided here is completely prototypical, even when we have Maori people speaking to each other without Pakeha people present. Nevertheless, some of the typical features of Maori English can be heard in these recordings. The sound files provided include a short conversation about a recent graphic series of drink-driving ads on New Zealand television, the ‘South Wind’ passage, and the extended word list. The passage and word list are read by one of the two speakers in the conversation (speaker C, who is on the left channel of the stereo file). The speaker is a young female from the Wellington region, and who identifies as Maori. In addition, the words from the word list have also been made available in separate speech files, in which each word is paired with the version produced by speaker F, the young female speaker of Pakeha New Zealand English (see the chapter on New Zealand English phonology by Bauer and Warren, this volume). Many of the features that might be commented on in the Maori English samples can be characterized as features of a broad New Zealand English pronunciation. As noted above, it is a high level of co-occurrence of such features that may contribute to the character of Maori English. Nevertheless, some of the characteristics of the read speech in these Maori English samples are ambiguous in their interpretation, since they could reflect a careful speech style rather than being features of Maori English. For instance, the more peripheral vowels found in weak syllables might reflect the tendency in Maori English towards syllable-based rhythm (and a consequential lessening of the contrast between full and reduced vowels), but they might also be a result of a more deliberate reading style. Similarly, the two-vowel like nature of some of the diphthongs might result from careful reading. However, some of these features can also be identified in the conversation recording, and so may be more broadly characteristic of this Maori English speaker. The second conversation is an interview between a male Maori interviewer and a female Maori interviewee, originally broadcast by Radio New Zealand. The male interviewer sounds rather more obviously Maori than the female speakers in the first conversation. For the interviewee, code-switching on Maori words is very obvious, although the Maori words do not always get the value that they would have in monolingual Maori. Finally, there is a comment by a mature, male Maori speaker. This is a read passage, written by the speaker, The Right Reverend Muru Walters, MA, Dip Ed, LTh (Aot), Adv Dip Tchg, PGD (Arts) who is the Maori Anglican Bishop of Aotearoa (New Zealand) for the district ki te Upoko o te Ika (the Wellington region). The passage was first broadcast on Radio New Zealand. This speaker illustrates the use of English by someone who is a fluent Maori speaker, older than the other speak-

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ers illustrated here, and also highly educated. The voice quality is typical of a speaker of his generation, and the code-switching into Maori is obvious. Because the passage is read for broadcast, it is very clearly enunciated, and in that respect is not typical of conversational Maori English.

8.1.

Conversation sample 1

8.1.1. The short vowels The KIT vowel is less centralized than in Pakeha New Zealand English, in both kit and sing from the word list. The TRAP and DRESS vowels are very similar to those of the Pakeha New Zealand English speaker, but the merger before /l/, exemplified in malady and melody, appears to be towards a more open variant (see also belt in the conversation at around 75 seconds). The short vowels in the read material appear somewhat longer than in the Pakeha New Zealand English sample, but this may be due to the more deliberate reading style. A consequence of this additional length is that the // vowel in us is almost //-like. 8.1.2. The long vowels The FLEECE vowel is somewhat closer than that of the Pakeha New Zealand English speaker. BATH/START – The words bath and palm have very similar vowels for the two speakers. In the word start, the Maori English vowel is somewhat fronter, despite our general observation that BATH/START is backer than in Pakeha New Zealand English. The GOOSE vowel is clearly fronter than Pakeha New Zealand English. The NURSE vowel seems much more rounded and fronter than Pakeha New Zealand English, both in nurse and in girl, which has a very broad pronunciation in this set. This quality for NURSE is also noticeable in the conversation, in the words work (around 23 seconds) and first (around 161 seconds). 8.1.3. The diphthongs The merger of NEAR and SQUARE is more noticeable for this Maori English speaker than for the Pakeha English speaker. Contrary to Bell and Johnson’s (1997) observations, the merger is to a closer onset. A close onset to the diphthong is also found in occurrences of the word where in the conversation (57 and 72 seconds).

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The FACE vowel in the word list has a more distinctly two-part diphthong, but it is not clear if this is a result of a deliberate reading style. The second part of the GOAT vowel is quite front (matching the GOOSE vowel), especially noticeable in a number of words in the conversation (e.g. home at 54 seconds, road at 62 and 96 seconds). It is not clear that these realizations of diphthongs are characteristically Maori English, or just more generally broad New Zealand English. 8.1.4. The reduced vowels In each of the words comma, horses, nothing, happy and letter, the reduced vowel is more peripheral than in the Pakeha New Zealand English recordings. The second syllable of letter may be the result of spelling pronunciation. A peripheral pronunciation is also found in the conversation, in words such as lady (a clear FLEECE vowel at 58 and 72 seconds) and pushing (60 seconds). In disgusting (110 seconds) and driving (123 seconds) the final vowel is FLEECE-like in its quality and also has a brief / / onglide. In all of these cases, the vowel is a more extreme version of the Pakeha New Zealand English one, and may well result from the lessening of the distinction between full and reduced vowels that arises as a consequence of syllable-based timing. 8.1.5. Vowels before /l/ The forms pool and pull overlap in the Maori English word list, but were distinct in the Pakeha New Zealand English. 8.1.6. /l/-vocalization Vocalization of /l/ is more widespread than in the Pakeha New Zealand English word list, again probably reflecting a generally more broad pronunciation. Where there is no vocalization, there is a tendency towards a clear /l/ postvocalically. 8.1.7. The plosives The conversation contains many examples of the tapping of /t/ and /d/ as in other varieties of New Zealand English. This speaker also frequently replaces final /k/ with a glottal stop or glottalization. 8.1.8. Prosodic features Although there is little clear evidence of consistent syllable-based timing, the more peripheral realizations of many of the weak vowels supports the tendency towards

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this type of rhythm, and there are some short stretches of the conversation that appear more syllable timed (notable around 114−117 seconds and 125−129 seconds). 8.2.

Conversation sample 2

Although we have marked instances which appear to show code-switching to Maori (indicated by, for example the use of a tap [(]), vowel qualities are variable across these, and while they sometimes show pronunciations modified in the direction of Maori, they do not do so consistently or in the same way. Some of the Maori phrases used are translated below: kapa haka kete korero mana wahine Ngati Palangi

pakeha te ara reo te reo Maori tikanga Maori waiata whare wananga

Maori cultural performance basket of woven flax speak, talk woman power, feminism Ngati means ‘people’ or ‘tribe’ and is the usual word for one of the Maori tribes; palangi is a Pacific word for Maori pakeha ‘person of European descent’; the entire phrase means ‘white people’. person of European descent, white the language path the Maori language Maori custom song house of instruction, university

Note the unexpectedly back vowel in the second syllable of demand, the variable pronunciation of coda-/l/ (especially after back vowels), the use of full vowels in a number of unstressed or unaccented words, variable NEAR-SQUARE merger, the quality of the vowel in what might be thought of as GOAT + /l/ contexts (but which should probably be reanalyzed as GOLD contexts), the pronunciation of pronunciation showing its derivation from pronounce (though the two nuclei are far from identical phonetically), the quality of STRUT when followed by coda-/l/, tapped /n/ in ninety. Plosives appear to have standard English values throughout, even in Maori words, and devoicing, while marked on occasions, is not pervasive. High Rising Terminals are found, but are not as common as one might expect from a young female relating a narrative.

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Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Bell, Allan 2000 Maori and Pakeha English: a case study. In: Bell and Kuiper (eds.), 221–248. Bell, Allan and Gary Johnson 1997 Towards a sociolinguistics of style. University of Pennsylvania Working Papers in Linguistics 4: 1–21. Grabe, Esther and Low, Ee Ling 2002 Durational variability in speech and the rhythm class hypothesis. In: Carlos Gussenhoven and Natasha Warner (eds.), Papers in Laboratory Phonology 7, 515–546. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Hall, Moira 1976 An acoustic analysis of New Zealand vowels. M.A. thesis, University of Auckland. Laver, John 1994 Principles of Phonetics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Richards, Jack 1970 The language factor in Maori schooling. In: John L. Ewing and Jack Shallcrass (eds.), Introduction to Maori Education, 122–132. Wellington: New Zealand Universities Press. Robertson, Shelley A. 1994 Identifying Maori English: a study of ethnic identification, attitudes and phonetic features. M.A. thesis, Victoria University, Wellington. Warren, Paul 1999 Timing properties of New Zealand English rhythm. Proceedings of the 14th International Congress of Phonetic Sciences, 1843–1848. San Francisco.

Australian English: phonology Barbara M. Horvath

1.

Introduction

English was brought to Australia in 1788 and the people who provided the original linguistic input to what was to become a distinctive national variety of English came from all over England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland. People from the whole social spectrum were represented but the colony began with its own built-in social division based on whether a person was a freeman or a convict, and this social division was passed on to the children of these original settlers as well. In the early days, men far outnumbered women. We know very little about how this diversity of input dialects was distributed across that social spectrum nor how that social spectrum helped to structure the ways of speaking of the first generations of native born speakers of Australian English (AusE). We do know that migration from England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland has continued from the earliest days and that these migrants have been joined by others, initially from northern Europe, and since the 1950s from southern Europe and the Middle East and in more recent times from Asia. Although the varieties of AusE are many, only some have been described in any detail. The English spoken by some Aborigines, for instance, is only just being examined as are the ethnolects, the particular contributions to AusE by the many migrants who learned English as a second language. There is only the beginning of a discussion about how all of these diverse dialects of English came together to form AusE, but in the earliest descriptions of the phonology of AusE in the 1940s, Alexander G. Mitchell recognized a spectrum of pronunciations which were spread over the whole of the Australian continent. He believed, as did many others following his lead, that there were no social dialects (i.e. dialects associated with social class) nor any regional dialects. He later recognized three points on the pronunciation spectrum which he labelled Broad, General and Cultivated Australian English and these three have remained to this day as descriptors of the range of variation in pronunciation. On the prestige scale, Cultivated is the highest and is estimated to be spoken by only about 10% of Australians. Broad, spoken by about a third of the people, has the most marked AusE characteristics and has the least prestige. General falls in between these two varieties, is spoken by a majority of the people, and may well be increasing in strength as speakers move away from the more stigmatized Broad variety. In the early 1960s Mitchell and Delbridge (1965) surveyed a large sample of high school students from across Australia and provided a detailed account of the phonological system of AusE. Later acoustic analysis by Bernard (1970) provided

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the basis for the pronunciations given in the Macquarie Dictionary published in 1981, the first dictionary of AusE. Mitchell and Delbridge found little to differentiate Australians either among themselves or other English speakers in the pronunciation of the consonants, but found the greatest source of variety in the FLEECE, GOAT, GOOSE, FACE, PRICE and MOUTH vowels. They took the position that Australian English was a single dialect with three varieties because they found no firm regional or cultural boundaries (Mitchell and Delbridge 1965: 87). More recent studies have shown that, although it is certainly the case that regional and social variation exists, the differences in pronunciation are often quantitative rather than qualitative. The consonants, too, have now been more widely studied and have also been found to represent sociolinguistic and/or geolinguistic variables. The vocalization of /l/, for instance, is widespread in Adelaide, not so prevalent in Sydney, and hardly ever heard in Brisbane. We will begin with a description of the vowel system for AusE and then proceed to discuss just those consonants which either have some particular significance or which have been the topic of research.

2.

The vowel system of AusE

As in most varieties of English, the most distinctive characteristic of the phonological system of AusE are the vowels. In this section we will approach the description of the AusE vowels from three perspectives. First of all, an auditory description of the phonetic variants following Clark (1989: 209–212) will be presented. An acoustic description taken from the work of Harrington, Cox and Evans (1997) will demonstrate how the variants are distributed across the three major varieties of AusE, Broad, General and Cultivated. Finally, the sociolinguistic description of a selection of vowels will show how the Broad, General and Cultivated vowels are distributed across social dialects. 2.1.

An auditory description of AusE vowels

Clark (1989) divides the vowels into four groups: simple target long vowels, simple target short vowels, complex target long vowels and complex target short vowels. Table 1. An auditory description of AusE vowels (Clark 1989: 209–211) Vowel Type

Keyword

Phonetic Symbol

Phonetic Description

Simple target long vowels

START

[6]

A long low central vowel; very stable; may be marked retraction in extreme cases of speakers aspiring towards an RP model. Some instances of a central offglide may occur.

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Table 1. (continued) An auditory description of AusE vowels (Clark 1989: 209–211) Vowel Type

Simple target short vowels

Keyword

Phonetic Symbol

Phonetic Description

NURSE

[]

A long mid-high central vowel; some variability but central form is most common.

KIT

[I], [ ]

A short high front vowel; first variant may be more fronted than its RP counterpart. The second variant is commonly heard as a reduced form in AusE.

DRESS

[e], [
]

A short mid-high front vowel; second variant may occur with very open front vowels but not common.

STRUT

[]

A long low central vowel; very stable and has a true length contrast with the START vowel.

FOOT

[]

A short mid-high back vowel.

[i], [ i], [ i]

A long high front vowel with an onglide. The latter two are very commonly heard in AusE with a continuum of realisations varying from slight onglide to full diphthongization.

CLOTH

[o], [o ], [o ]

A long mid-high back vowel with an offglide. All are common and in some cases the degree of inglide may warrant treating this sound as a true diphthong.

GOOSE

[ ], [

], [ ]

A long high central vowel with an onglide; an unstable target as evidenced by onglide or offglide due to its unpressured position in the phonological vowel space. In some extreme cases the target realization may approach [y]. The phonetic properties of this sound in AusE are problematic.

FACE

[
e], [æe]

A mid-low front vowel with a closing glide.

PRICE

[ e], [çe]

A low central vowel with a closing glide.

GOAT

[

]

A mid-low central vowel with a closing glide.

Complex target FLEECE long vowels

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Table 1. (continued) An auditory description of AusE vowels (Clark 1989: 209–211) Vowel Type

Keyword

Phonetic Symbol

Phonetic Description

MOUTH

[æç], [ç]

A mid-low front vowel with a retracting glide.

CHOICE

[o]

A mid-high back vowel with a fronting glide.

NEAR

[ ], [ ], []

A high front vowel with an offglide; a dominant first target, and marginal diphthongal status with a weak centralised second target. In some speakers this becomes either a weak central offglide gesture or a simple target long vowel. The general tendency seems to be to trade the second target for length.

SQUARE

[e ],[e ], [e]

A mid-high front vowel with an offglide. The variant forms parallel those found in the NEAR vowel. The tendency to replace the central second target or offglide with length is probably even more common.

CURE

[ ], [ ], [o]

A mid-high back vowel with an offglide; may have diphthongal status or may be a two vowel sequence; auditorily very difficult to distinguish from [ ] in some instances. The third and commonly heard variant parallels the sound change occurring in the two preceding vowels in which the central second target is replaced by length, with the additional consequence of losing contrast with the CLOTH vowel.

Complex target TRAP short vowels

[æ], [æ ], [æ]

Varying degrees of offglide occur and some instances of lengthening.

LOT

[ç], [ç ], [ç´]

The first and second forms are most common but the diphthongal form is possible in extreme cases of central offglide.

commA lettER horsES

[ ]

Realised in a wide range of auditory qualities around the vowel space; strongly influenced by phonetic context.

The indeterminate vowel

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Although Clark does not include it in his description, the happY vowel is realized as [i]. 2.2.

An acoustic description of AusE vowels

The acoustic description of AusE vowels by Harrington, Cox and Evans (1997) involved a sample of 119 men and women who had been identified as speakers of Broad, General and Cultivated AusE; the goal was to describe the characteristics of the vowels that differentiate the three varieties. Table 2 shows the phonetic symbol or symbols that, according to Harrington, Cox and Evans (1997) best describe the vowel in AusE; however, much of the variability associated with one or the other of the varieties is lost in the choice of a single symbol. The comments on the table indicate the variability associated with each vowel. Harrington, Cox and Evans (1997) divide the vowels into four types: tense and lax monophthongs and rising and falling diphthongs. Table 2. A comparison of Broad, General and Cultivated vowels in AusE (Harrington, Cox and Evans 1997) KEY WORDS

Proposed Transcription

COMMENTS (B - Broad; G - General; C- Cultivated)

TENSE MONOPHTHONGS FLEECE

i

Long onglide from a central vowel at onset; B considerably longer onglide than either G or C; clear B/G/C differentiation for males for onglide.

GOOSE



Fronted for B; shorter onglide than FLEECE; not clear that onglide starts at a central vowel.

CLOTH

o

BATH NURSE

 or æ 

lexical/social/regional variation Fronted for B.

LAX MONOPHTHONGS KIT



FOOT



Fronted for B.

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Table 2. (continued) A comparison of Broad, General and Cultivated vowels in AusE (Harrington, Cox and Evans 1997) KEY WORDS

Proposed Transcription

LOT

ç

STRUT



DRESS

e

TRAP

æ

COMMENTS (B - Broad; G - General; C- Cultivated)

Fronted for B.

RISING DIPHTHONGS FACE

æe

GOAT

or 

CHOICE

o

PRICE

e

MOUTH

æç

Low first target; more fronted for C than G or B. Ends between /U/ and /u/; more fronted for B; more raised in G than C.

Raised and backed first target for B (extends into boundary between /a/ and // vowel space. First target fronted; raised for B; ends at // more than /ç/ or /u/.

FALLING DIPHTHONGS NEAR

 ; 

SQUARE

e ; e

CURE

 and ç

Long monophthong and bisyllabic variants; second target ends in /æ/ or /a/ vowel space. Long monophthong and bisyllabic variant; second target ends in /æ/ or /a/ vowel space. Long monophthong and bisyllabic variant; first target more open and fronted than //; second target ends in /æ/ or /a/ vowel space.

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2.2.1. Monophthongs The ellipse plots of the vowel targets for male and female tense and lax monophthongs are given in Figure 1. Each ellipse includes at least 95% of the tokens. The labels b, g, and c represent the mean F1 and F2 values for Broad, General and Cultivated speakers (Harrington, Cox and Evans 1997: 164).

Figure 1.

Ellipse plots of vowel targets in the formant plane for male and female monophthongs (Harrington, Cox and Evans 1997: 164)

There is not much variation across the three varieties in the targets for the monophthongs. No significant differences were found between General and Cultivated, but there were some for Broad, particularly for the GOOSE vowel for both men and women and the NURSE vowel for women. The GOOSE vowel was fronted for men and women and the NURSE, KIT and DRESS vowels were fronted for Broad

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speaking women. Ongliding for both FLEECE and GOOSE have often been noted as characteristic of AusE. In this study FLEECE was found to have an onglide from a more central vowel but there was much less evidence for ongliding of the GOOSE vowel. The longest onglide was found for Broad speakers for the FLEECE vowel; the oldest Broad speakers exhibited the most extensive onglides and young Cultivated speakers the least marked onglide. 2.2.2. Rising diphthongs The rising diphthongs are often cited as a feature of AusE that distinguishes it from many other dialects of English. FACE has a low first target; MOUTH has a fronted first target which is also raised for Broad speakers; and the first target of the PRICE vowel for Broad speakers is raised and backed, extending into the boundary between the /a/ and /Q/ vowel spaces. The second target for the frontrising diphthongs FACE and CHOICE point toward the // vowel space but is much lower for PRICE. The two back-rising diphthongs, GOAT and MOUTH, point toward the // space but fall well short of it. When Harrington, Cox and Evans (1997) compared the rising diphthongs across the three varieties of AusE, they found that the first targets of these vowels, unlike the monophthongs, were important differentiators within AusE, particularly so for the PRICE and MOUTH vowels. The first target for PRICE is higher and more retracted for Broad speakers than for either General or Cultivated speakers and for MOUTH, the Broad speakers’ first target is considerably fronted and raised compared to the others. For both PRICE and MOUTH, the Cultivated speakers have the lowest first target and General falls between the two. The GOAT vowel indicates that women classified as Broad speakers have a more fronted first target. The CHOICE vowel shows the least amount of differentiation. 2.2.3. Falling diphthongs What is most characteristic of AusE with respect to the falling diphthongs is the [ç] pronunciation of the CURE vowel. This is especially so for the lexical item sure but is frequent for all words containing the CURE vowel. There is very little differentiation in the articulation of the falling diphthongs among the three varieties. The first target is close to the corresponding lax monophthongs /
/ and the offset ends near the /æ a/ vowel space. The pronunciation actually varies from a fully two-targeted variant, to a diphthongal variant (having an offglide), to a long monophthongal variant. Although Harrington, Cox and Evans (1997) found only a small number of monophthongal variants in their study, they suggest that this may be an artefact of the corpus.

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The social distribution of Broad, General and Cultivated varieties of AusE

The earliest work on AusE by Mitchell and Delbridge and the acoustic studies of Bernard presented the phonological continuum as one with little association with social or geographical boundaries. Much work since the 1960s has been done to investigate whether such is the case (Horvath 1985; Bradley 1989; Cox and Palethorpe 2001). Certainly regional variation is being found for a number of phonological features (see the chapter on regional variation in AusE by Bradley in this volume) and Horvath’s study of Sydney English drew attention to the social class, gender and ethnic correlates of the Broad, General and Cultivated continuum. 3.1.

The social dimensions of the phonological continuum – vowels

Whereas most other researchers have classified speakers as belonging to one of the three varieties, Horvath approached the description of the vowel system from a different perspective. Using a statistical procedure called principal components analysis, she was able to group the speakers from her sociolinguistic study who were similar in their overall linguistic behavior on five vowels (FLEECE, FACE, GOAT, PRICE and MOUTH). In place of a three-way division of the AusE spectrum, she argued for a four way division and simply named them Sociolects 1–4, with Broad corresponding most closely to Sociolect 1, Cultivated to Sociolect 4 and General to Sociolects 2 and 3. As Figure 2 shows, no speaker used only Broad, General or Cultivated vowels but each variety consisted of a mix of all of the vowel pronunciations; the Broad variety used more ‘broad’ vowels and the Cultivated used more ‘cultivated’ vowels, but all speakers often used ‘general’ vowels. No variety existed in a ‘pure’ form. Furthermore, the varieties correlated with social class and gender. At the Broad end of the continuum men and the working class predominated while women and the middle class were associated with the Cultivated end. In fact, at the most Cultivated end of the continuum, there were only women. The falling diphthongs also show an interesting social and linguistic distribution. Horvath (1985) found that the NEAR vowel was more than twice as often pronounced with the two targeted variant [i ] than it was for the SQUARE vowel. The reverse was true for the monophthongal variant: speakers are more than twice as often heard pronouncing hair as [he:] than they are heard saying [bi˘] for beer. The social distribution indicates that the middle class favours some kind of diphthongal realization, either an offglide or a two-targeted variant. The monophthongal variant was associated with working class speakers, older speakers, and men.

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Figure 2. The social distribution of Broad, General and Cultivated vowels (Horvath 1985: 77)

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635

The social dimensions of the phonological continuum – consonants

Little attention until recently has been paid to the consonants in AusE since it is the vowels that most dramatically differentiate the speakers of AusE and it is the vowels that have been the focus of attention. Although the consonant system of AusE does not differ to any great extent from other dialects of English, there are a number of consonants that vary among its speakers, but even these are also characteristic of various other dialects of English. The consonants that have been studied are the plosive, flapping, frication, and glottalization of /t/; the palatalization of /t, d, s, z/; h-deletion; [n] substituted for [] for the -ing morpheme; ‘thing’ words such as nothing and anything pronounced with [k] substituted for []; and the substitution of [f] and [v] for // and //, respectively. The vocalization of /l/ is one of the sounds of AusE that is currently a change in progress and it will be discussed at some length because of its interest both historically and phonologically. 3.2.1. Flapping, frication and glottalization of /t/ There are two pronunciations of /t/ that are particularly associated with AusE. One is strongly fricated [ts] and most noticed in prepausal position, for instance in an expression such as ‘And that’s as far as it went.’ [w
nts]. The other is a flap or tap [(] and is heard widely in the pronunciation of the numbers thirteen [*Rin] or eighteen [ei*Rin]. It is interesting to note that the first, [ts], is not widely distributed over the speech community and is more likely to be heard by speakers of Cultivated AusE. Although the [R] is often thought to be a feature of Broad AusE, it is actually widely used by Australians. A recent study of AusE (Tollfree 2001) gives a detailed account of the four variants of /t/. The first of these, plosive [t], has the usual English allophonic distribution for the aspirated and unaspirated variants but in addition it also has a voiced tap [(], a glottalized variant [/], and a fricated variant [ts]. The voiced tap [(] occurs in intervocalic final contexts, e.g. lot of, get up, and in medial contexts, e.g. bitter, mutter. For some words, such as attitude, beauty, data or city, Tollfree found that [(] was almost categorical while in words followed by a syllabic /l/ like bottle or subtle or by a syllabic /n/ like mutton or baton both plosive [t] and [(] were found. The glottalized variant was also found in medial positions such as cutlass or hitman, occasionally in intervocalic medial contexts like lot of or get out, but they were not found in intervocalic medial contexts like bitter. The fricated [ts] was found in intervocalic and prepausal contexts. As mentioned earlier, the [ts] variant was associated with women and the middle class, along with Cultivated vowel usage, in Horvath (1985). Tollfree (2001) also notes its occurrence in prepausal position in the formal style of young lower socioeconomic speakers but it occurred more often in both the prepausal and intervocalic medial contexts in both formal and informal styles in the speech of middle socioeconomic speak-

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ers. In comparing the three variants quantitatively, Tollfree found a small number of the fricated variant [ts] and she believes that it is receding in AusE; tapping and glottalized /t/ were more prolific but in those contexts where both could be used, tapping was strongly favored over glottalization. 3.2.2. Palatalization of /t, d, s, z/ AusE shares with a number of other English dialects a possible realization of /t, d, s, z/ preceding the GOOSE vowel [u] either as the as [tj, dj, sj, zj] or the corresponding palatals /t, d, , /. Thus the following variants regularly occur: tune due assume presume

[*tjun] [*tun] [*dju] [*du] [ *sjum] [ *um] [pr *zjum] [pr *um]

Horvath (1985) found that the palatalized consonants occurred more frequently when the following [u] was in an unstressed syllable (attitude, fortune, educate, insulate) than when it was stressed, as in the preceding list of words. In examining the lexicon, a great deal of variability is found: in some cases, e.g., fortune and educate, the Macquarie Dictionary lists only the [t] and [d], respectively, and these are certainly not only the standard AusE pronunciations but also the most usual. However, for attitude the dictionary shows only [tj] and for insulate only the palatal [] and these do tend to vary across the speech community, although [*æt tud] may well be heard more often than [*nsjlet]. The makers of the Macquarie Dictionary recognized the high degree of variability in the pronunciations of /tj/ and /dj/ and chose to record the way the words would most likely be pronounced by speakers of Cultivated Australian. The results of Horvath’s study suggested that men, young people, and the speakers from the working class were most likely to use the palatals. 3.2.3. /h/ deletion The deletion of /h/ in initial position is frequent in all English dialects, especially in normal conversational speech in words that receive little or no stress. For the pronouns his, her, him, or hers, for instance, the deletion of /h/ is commonplace. However, when /h/ is deleted in initial position in stressed words, it is frequently remarked upon. There are two indications that the widespread deletion of /h/ is probably linked to a former period in AusE. The first is an indication that /h/ deletion and /h/ insertion at one time worked hand-in-hand; a number of people remember that it used to be true that someone riding on a train might “drop their aitch in ’aberfield and pick it up again in Hashfield”. The saying is no longer so

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well known nor is the linguistic practice. The other bit of nostalgia is an advertisement that was popular on television until the company disappeared; a variety of scenarios were shown, all of which concluded with an old man, obviously working class, recommending that the listeners go for their building requirements to “’udson’s, ’udson’s with a haitch”. Horvath’s study of /h/ found no /h/ insertion and the rate of /h/ deletion was low. However, the distribution of /h/ deletion was clearly at the Broad AusE end of the dialect continuum and occurred infrequently in Cultivated AusE. It was also more likely to be heard by men than women. 3.2.4. [f, v] substitution for /
, / The substitution of [f] for // and [v] for // are rarely recognized variants in AusE but they are nonetheless widespread. Horvath’s study of [f] for // found a very low frequency (less than 5%) but the social distribution was unusual in that it was one of the consonant variables that never occurred in Cultivated AusE. It is, in fact, a pronunciation that many speakers are certainly aware of and which is generally avoided by many and in times past has been cause for referral to the speech therapist by teachers. 3.2.5. The -ing variable Shnukal’s (1988) study of the -ing variable has shown that the common substitution of [n] for [] is also prevalent in AusE but not with the high frequencies that have been found for British and American varieties of English. In general most studies of AusE have found that [n] is substituted in only about a quarter of the potential occurrences. It will not be surprising either to learn that men use the [n] substitution more often than women or that speakers at the Broad AusE end of the spectrum are more likely to use the variant and Cultivated AusE speakers almost never use it. 3.2.6. The -thing words Words such as nothing, something, anything, everything share with a number of British English dialects the substitution of [k] for []. This substitution is more clearly associated with the Broad end of the spectrum and is never found in the Cultivated variety. 3.2.7. The social distribution of the consonantal variants It is beneficial to look at these four consonantal variants in terms of their spread across the AusE spectrum as shown in Figure 3 because it gives a clearer picture of the clusters of phonological variables that go together to make up the social dialects of AusE.

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Figure 3. The social distribution of some consonant variants in AusE (Horvath 1985: 99)

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Intonation: High Rising Tone

AusE has a distinctive intonation pattern which has been the subject of a number of studies (Guy and Vonwiller 1984; Horvath 1985 and Guy et al. 1986). The pattern is variously referred to as High Rising Tone (HRT) or Australian Questioning Intonation and is defined as a rising contour on a declarative clause. This intonation pattern receives a good deal of media attention and is widely believed to be used excessively by teenage girls and to be a sign of insecurity. Below is an example of a description of a primary school by an AusE speaker. The arrow indicates where the rising tone occurred. All right, um, there were two sections really. Uh, there was the juniors and the seniors. The juniors was composed of the old Marrickville High building4, and a few portables4, old fashioned portables, not the modern ones, the, you know, not the uh, aluminium ones, just the wooden ones4, and it had a big, big area for playground, it’s all green grass4, two areas really, big. Uh, um, had an asphalt centre4.

In order to study the distribution of this intonation pattern, a large number of interviews with AusE speakers was subdivided into the following text types: descriptions, opinions, explanations, factual texts, and narratives. Statistical analysis showed that HRTs were most likely to be found in descriptions and narratives and least likely in opinions and factual texts. Explanations neither favour nor disfavour the use of HRTs. The length of the turn at talk was also investigated and it was found that multiclause turns were most likely to include an HRT. The social distribution matches somewhat the public perception: it is indeed teenage working class girls who are most likely to use HRTs but it certainly is the case that HRTs are used by speakers of all ages and from both working and middle class backgrounds. In fact, the case has been made that the HRT is a language change that is currently going on in AusE and is one that is being led by women. A number of potential interpretations of the function of HRTs has been offered including seeking verification of the listener’s comprehension or as requesting the heightened participation of the listener – both of which are plausible when extended turns at talk are taken, e.g. in narratives. It certainly does not seem to be an indicator of insecurity since it is not found as often in factual texts or opinions, texts in which the speaker might have some concern about the correctness of their facts or the acceptability of their opinions to the listener.

5.

Phonological change in AusE

5.1.

Changes in vowels

A number of phonological changes have been studied since the descriptions of AusE by Mitchell and Delbridge and Bernard first appeared. Cox and Palethorpe (2001: 25–29) compared their acoustic study of vowels collected from a group of

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men during the 1990s with a similar acoustic study reported by Bernard (1970) who collected his data in the 1960s, also from males. The summary of the changes are shown in Table 3. They note that these changes follow patterned relationships. The raised second target of the MOUTH vowel follows the raised LOT vowel and the fronted second target of the GOAT vowel follows the fronted GOOSE vowel. The fronted GOOSE and NURSE vowels represent a parallel shift and raised LOT and FOOT provide an example of a change shift. Table 3.

Changes in AusE vowels between 1960s and 1990s

KEYWORD

TRANSCRIPTION

CHANGE

KIT

//

Raised

TRAP

/æ/

Lowered and Retracted

LOT

//

Raised

FOOT

//

Raised

GOOSE

/u/

Raised and Fronted

NURSE

//

Fronted

FACE

/e/

Fronted Target 1

PRICE

/a/

Retracted Target 1 and Lowered Target 2

MOUTH

/a/

Lowered Target 1 and Raised Target 2

GOAT

/o/

Fronted Target 2

The variation in the pronunciation of the GOAT vowel is of particular interest. Mitchell and Delbridge were the first to comment on the unusual behaviour of this vowel in their survey of adolescents in the 1960s. “A curiously variable glide is heard in the South Australian recordings. It ranges from [
2] to [
2y]2 and from [ç] to [y]. This group of sounds is the only one that emerged from our survey which seemed to be regionally distinctive” (Mitchell and Delbridge 1965: 84). Cox and Palethorpe (2001: 40) indicate that for their Sydney speakers, the first target has shifted toward [ç] and the upward glide is quite fronted, approaching [y] before /d/. 5.2.

The vocalization of /l/

Among consonant changes perhaps one of the most interesting is the vocalization of /l/ (e.g. Borowsky 2001; Horvath and Horvath 2001, 2002). The vocalized variant of /l/ has the sound of a back vowel [u] and may or may not be rounded or labialized. Although /l/ vocalization occurs in many dialects of English, the re-

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ported occurrence of a vocalized /l/ in intervocalic position found in some American dialects is not found in AusE; however, /l/ vocalization in London English does appear to be comparable to AusE. Borowsky (2001) gives an account of the phonological processes involved in vocalization. She begins with an articulatory description of English /l/ as given by Sproat and Fujimura (1993). According to their account, /l/ is bigestural since it has both a tongue tip (coronal) gesture and a tongue body gesture (dorsal). It is the timing of the dorsal gesture in relation to the apical gesture that accounts for the allophonic distribution of dark l and light l in English and that timing depends on where in the syllable the /l/ occurs. Each gesture has a strong affinity for different parts of the syllable (Sproat and Fujimura 1993: 291). The tongue body gesture is inherently vocalic and has an affinity for the syllable nucleus and the tongue tip gesture is inherently consonantal and has an affinity for the syllable onset. Dark l is produced when the /l/ is in the nucleus or near the nucleus because the tongue body gesture precedes the tongue tip gesture; light l is produced when /l/ is the onset of a syllable since the tongue tip gesture precedes. A quantitative study of AusE speakers indicated that syllable type was indeed important to the understanding of the vocalization of /l/. An important finding was that vocalized /l/ never occurred in onset position, whether initially in a word, intervocalically or pre-vocalically. Three syllable types were found to promote vocalization of /l/: coda cluster (milk), syllabic (pickle) and coda (fool/fill). Coda /l/ was further analysed into those syllables containing a long vowel (fool), in which the /l/ tends to be syllabic, and those containing a short vowel, where the /l/ is just a coda consonant and does not get the extra promotion effect of being in a nuclear position. The comparison of the occurrence of a vocalized /l/ in the four environments is given in Table 4. Table 4. The comparison of vocalized /l/ for syllable type (Borowsky 2001: 74) Syllable Type

KEYWORD

Vocalized /l/ (Percentage)

Coda Cluster

MILK

28

Coda (Long Vowel)

FOOL

19

Syllabic

PICKLE

15

Coda (Short Vowel)

FULL

11

Three other conditioning factors have an effect on the occurrence of a vocalized /l/: (i) the place of articulation of a preceding or following consonant, (ii) whether the following environment is a consonant, a vowel or a pause, and (iii) the backness of the preceding vowel. For both coda clusters and syllabic /l/, the preceding or following segment is a primary factor in vocalization. The vocalization of /l/ is most likely when a dorsal consonant follows, next most likely when a labial consonant follows and least likely when a coronal consonant follows the /l/. It is interesting

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to note that this process is paralleled in the history of English. In the early Modern English period [l] was lost between some vowels and a following labial or dorsal: talk, half, balm, and folk, and [lt] and [ld] are the only clusters that still occur after these vowels: halt, bolt, fold (Borowsky 2001: 75). When the effect of the place of articulation of a preceding consonant is considered, dorsals clearly enhance the likelihood of vocalization. A following word beginning with a consonant has the strongest effect in promoting vocalization for all coda /l/ syllables, and a following pause weakly promotes vocalization. A following vowel, however, strongly inhibits vocalization because the /l/ becomes a syllable onset, where, as we have seen, the consonantal gesture is most likely. The effect of a following vowel for syllabic /l/ on the vocalization process is interesting because it does not have the strong effect that a following vowel has for coda /l/. Borowsky (2001: 82–83) explains that the differences occur because when an /l/ is followed by a vowel-initial word, a final /l/ becomes ambisyllabic and provides an onset for the following vowel. A syllabic /l/, however, functions as the nucleus of its own syllable as well as as the onset of the following one. Thus a conflict arises for syllabic /l/ in prevocalic environments that does not occur for coda /l/. The place of the preceding vowel for clustered /l/ and coda /l/ also affects the occurrence of vocalization. In both syllable types, vocalization is more likely following a central or back vowel and is inhibited following a front vowel. Vowel height also plays an important role in the vocalization of /l/. A preceding high vowel promotes vocalization for both syllable types and while mid vowels disfavour vocalization, low vowels strongly inhibit the process. In fact for clustered /l/, as noted above, the process of /l/ vocalization which began in Early Modern English after low back vowels in such words as palm and calm has resulted in the loss of /l/ in those contexts. The study of AusE vocalization of /l/ has shown that the process is promoted by backness – adjacent backness of both consonants and vowels in combination with syllable position.

6.

Outstanding issues

The study of AusE has a firm foundation in the numerous studies that have been done since the 1940s. The research questions that are currently being addressed have to do with regional descriptions of AusE, as well as the description of ethnolects. The contributions that migrants from non-English speaking backgrounds have made to AusE are only beginning to be understood, not only in adding to the lexicon or the pronunciation of AusE but also to the process of language change. The origins of AusE and the relationship of AusE to New Zealand English, and for that matter other Southern Hemisphere Englishes, can now be addressed because

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of the advances made so far in dialect description. The further study of Aboriginal and Torres Straits Island English is a neglected area that is also beginning to attract the attention of linguists (see Malcolm, this and other volume).

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Bernard, John 1970 Towards the acoustic specification of Australian English. Zeitschrift für Phonetik 2/3: 113–128. Borowsky, Toni 2001 The vocalization of dark /l/ in Australian English. In: Blair and Collins (eds.), 69–87. Bradley, David 1989 Regional dialects in Australian English phonology. In: Collins and Blair (eds.), 260–270. Clark, John 1989 Some proposals for a revised phonetic transcription of Australian English. In: Collins and Blair (eds.), 205–213. Cox, Felicity and Sallyanne Palethorpe 2001 The changing face of Australian English vowels. In: Blair and Collins (eds.), 17–44. Delbridge, Arthur John R.L. Bernard, David Blair, Pam Peters and Sue Butler (eds.) 1981 The Macquarie Dictionary. North Ryde: Macquarie Library. Guy, Gregory, Barbara Horvath, Julia Vonwiller, Elaine Daisley and Inge Rogers 1986 An intonational change in progress in Australian English. Language in Society 15: 23–51. Guy, Gregory and Julia Vonwiller 1989 The high rising tone in Australian English. In: Collins and Blair (eds.), 21– 34. Harrington, Jonathan, Felicity Cox and Zoe Evans 1997 An acoustic phonetic study of broad, general, and cultivated Australian English vowels. Australian Journal of Linguistics 17: 155–184. Horvath, Barbara M. 1985 Variation in Australian English: The Sociolects of Sydney. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Horvath, Barbara M. and Ronald J. Horvath 2001 A multilocality study of a sound change in progress: the case of /l/ vocalization in New Zealand and Australian English. Language Variation and Change 13: 37–57. 2002 The geolinguistics of /l/ vocalization in Australia and New Zealand. Journal of Sociolinguistics 6: 319–346.

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Mitchell, Alexander G. and Arthur Delbridge 1965 The Speech of Australian Adolescents. Sydney: Angus and Robertson. Shnukal, Anna 1988 You’re gettin’ somethink for nothing: two phonological variables of Australian English. Australian Journal of Linguistics 2: 197–212. Sproat, Richard and Osamu Fujimura 1993 Allophonic variation in English /l/ and its implications for phonetic implementation. Journal of Phonetics 21: 291–311. Tollfree, Laura 2001 Variation and change in Australian consonants: reduction of /t/. In: Blair and Collins (eds.), 45–67.

Regional characteristics of Australian English: phonology David Bradley

1.

Introduction

The regional phonological characteristics of Australian English are much more subtle than those in the British Isles or North America, but they exist and are continuing to develop. As the contribution to this volume by Horvath indicates, these regional differences are much less substantial than the pervasive sociolectal differences. The regional differences are especially in vowel realisations, as is usual throughout English, but also in a few areas of consonant realisations. Australian speakers are much less aware of most of them than they are of the substantial sociolectal differences, though some speakers are aware of some of the most salient regional differences. Most older scholarly sources, following Mitchell and Delbridge (1965), state that there are no such differences. This is increasingly the subject of derisive comment by popular commentators on language, for example Buzo (2002).

2.

Vowel characteristics

2.1.

Variation between [æ] and [a˘]

The clearest example of a regional difference which is stereotyped (known to many non-linguists) is in the BATH vowel class. For most lexical items in Australian English of all regional and social varieties, the distribution of the earlier TRAP vowel between the modern PALM and TRAP vowels generally follows the southeastern British pattern: mainly PALM before /f, s, T/, variable before nasal plus obstruent – more so in Australia than in England – and mainly TRAP elsewhere. As is well-known, there are exceptions both ways in southeastern British English and in Australian English, such as gas with TRAP and the second syllable of banana with PALM, and some forms such as plastic and the prefix trans- still vary in Britain. However, for about sixty morphemes which are now mainly invariant PALM in southeastern British English, especially preceding a nasal + obstruent, but also a smaller number of prefricative words such as castle, graph, and so on, there is regional and social variation in Australia between TRAP and PALM vowels. This clearly distinguishes Australian English from New Zealand English, which has a

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much stronger tendency to follow the more recent British distribution maximising the number of former TRAP words now pronounced with PALM. The current Australian regional distribution appears to reflect the historical and social characteristics of settlement, and allows the chronology of this change within southeastern British English to be traced indirectly, as suggested in Bradley (1991): places settled by the early nineteenth century, and primarily by people of lower socio-economic status, use more PALM as in Sydney, Hobart and Brisbane. Melbourne, settled in the mid-nineteenth century, with a more mixed population, shows a higher proportion of TRAP. Adelaide, settled later in the nineteenth century primarily by people of middle or higher socio-economic status, uses the highest proportion of PALM, and shows a more advanced stage of the shift before nasal + obstruent than elsewhere in Australia, though not quite as far advanced as New Zealand or modern southeastern British English. This implies that the change in southeastern England was underway during the settlement of Australia, and that PALM was a lower-status form in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century, but had reversed its social value and become a high status form by the late nineteenth century. Furthermore, the change in the nasal + obstruent environment must have followed the prefricative environment by quite some time. Tables 1 and 2 (from Bradley 1991: 229–230) show the overall regional distribution of words which vary across four major cities, and the difference between the two phonological environments: the earlier environment, before anterior fricatives, and the later environment, before nasal + obstruent. Table 1.

Per cent [æ] by socioeconomic status: middle class (MC) versus working class (WC)

MC WC

Table 2.

Adelaide

Melbourne

Brisbane

Hobart

6 29

27 60

45 48

54 65

Per cent [æ] by phonological environment

Adelaide Melbourne Brisbane Hobart

Before Nasal + Obstruent

Before Fricative

9 42 42 93

30 11 31 38

Table 1 shows a status difference which is substantial everywhere except Brisbane: the PALM form is used more by those of higher status. There is also a parallel

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stylistic difference, not shown in the tables: the proportion of PALM increases as style becomes more formal. Table 2 shows how the more recent environment is less likely to have the PALM form, except in Adelaide where the pattern shows an interesting reversal. Table 3 (from Bradley 1991: 230, with supplementary information on Sydney from Horvath and Horvath 2001a: 350) shows the distribution of the alternatives in seven frequent words. The striking differences show that the lexical diffusion of PALM in this word class is proceeding differently in each part of Australia. Table 3. Per cent [æ] by lexical item Hobart

Melbourne

Brisbane

Sydney

Adelaide

graph (100) chance (100) demand (90) dance (90) castle (40) grasp (10) contrast (0)

graph (70) castle (70) dance (65) chance (40) demand (22) grasp (11) contrast (0)

dance (89) castle (67) graph (44) demand (22) chance (15) grasp (11) contrast (0)

chance (100) dance (93) demand (50) grasp (30) graph (30) contrast (9) castle (0)

contrast (29) castle (14) dance(14) chance (14) graph (14) demand (0) grasp (0)

Many Australian non-linguists can cite regional differences in place names containing castle, such as Newcastle or Castlereagh Street in New South Wales (with the PALM vowel) and Castlemaine in Victoria (with the TRAP vowel), or other words which vary, such as dance. Apart from the regional pattern, there is an overlying social pattern in which the PALM vowel is the more formal or high sociolect form, especially for words with nasal + obstruent. So, for example, the first word in the title and last line of the chorus of the national anthem, Advance Australia Fair, is variable but much more likely to have the PALM vowel than the word advance in other contexts, and may do so even in places or sociolects which do not normally have PALM in this or similar words. In areas where the TRAP vowel is usual for a word, its pronunciation with the PALM vowel is regarded as an affectation; so in Sydney dance is usually as in TRAP, and with the PALM vowel it is regarded there as a British form, or an affected pronunciation. Sometimes this is attributed, inaccurately, to the “other” – by Sydney speakers, who actually use the TRAP vowel more frequently in most words, to “posh” Melburnians, who actually use less PALM than Sydney speakers, and so on. Of the people interviewed in our regional sociolinguistic survey, some in every state and nine per cent overall were aware of this variation, and in all cases they attributed the PALM form to somewhere else. Many Australians have quite strong negative feelings about PALM in these words, which also reflects an increasing departure from the former RP-as-superposed-prestige-norm situation. Conversely,

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there is also some style shift towards PALM: when something happens in Castlemaine in central Victoria, locally always TRAP, and is mentioned by a Melbourne newsreader of the Australian Broadcasting Corporation, the mainly high-sociolect national government network, it can then have the PALM vowel. Also involved in the action here is the FACE vowel, a third alternative for many variable words as in other varieties of English as well. While tomato has the PALM and not the FACE vowel and potato is always FACE and never PALM in Australian English, there are many words such as basic which vary between FACE (in most places) and TRAP (mainly in Queensland). Others vary between FACE and PALM, and there are even a few words such as data and lambaste which can have FACE, TRAP or PALM. Again, quite a few of these are regionally distributed, like cicada which has PALM in Sydney and FACE in Melbourne. 2.2.

Varieties of /u/ and /oU/

Another particularly obvious and consistent regional difference, this one even noted by Mitchell and Delbridge (1965: 84), is the front-of-central rounded onset of the GOAT vowel, with a parallel in the GOOSE vowel, in Adelaide and elsewhere in South Australia. As they say, this is especially noticeable in the speech of higher socioeconomic status females, but is also used by males and lower-status females there. Again, some nonlinguists are aware of this feature. These realisations contrast greatly with the “cultivated” high sociolectal forms elsewhere which are much further back, though still not as far back as in many other varieties of English, and also with the “broad” forms elsewhere, which show some centralisation and more diphthongisation but much less rounding and fronting. There is a particularly stark contrast in Adelaide between the realisations of GOOSE and GOAT words before a lateral as opposed to elsewhere. In most regional varieties, similar vowel qualities occur for these vowels with or without a following lateral: vowels between back and central, with more or less rounding and diphthongisation according to sociolectal form and region. But in South Australia the vowels of words such as school and goal are fully back, and so differ very markedly from the central-to-front vowels of Adelaide words such as coo or go, and from the more or less central vowels heard elsewhere in Australia. A difference first noted in Oasa (1979, cited in Bradley 1980) is that the trajectory offglide in the GOOSE vowel differs somewhat between regions of Australia. It starts well front of central and remains there in South Australia (other than before a lateral), starts slightly back of central and moves slightly further back in Victoria, and starts further back from central and moves slightly further front in Sydney and much further front in Brisbane. There is also a tendency to palatalise the consonant preceding GOOSE + lateral, as in cool, school or pool; this is both youthspeak for cool, and a Queensland tendency. This is also the secondmost-frequently cited regional stereotype: nearly eight per cent of our regional

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sample cited differences in school or pool, correctly attributing a palatalised form to Queensland. Surprisingly, this is more salient than the more extreme differences involving a postvocalic lateral. 2.3.

Vowels before postvocalic /l/

In many varieties of English, there are interesting vowel changes in progress in prelateral environment; see Ash (1982) for the case of Philadelphia, with some remarks on other related phenomena in North America. In addition, the /l/ itself is often vocalised. Both are also happening in Australian English. In Australian English, there are various regionally-differentiated vowel mergers underway before postvocalic /l/. These include a nearly-completed merger of DRESS into TRAP in Melbourne, which is shared with New Zealand (Buchanan 2001) and Brisbane, but not with Sydney, Hobart, Adelaide or Perth. Thus Ellen and Allen, pellet and pallet, telly and tally and so on become homophonous. Melbourne speakers learning phonetics have no hesitation in transcribing words which are unambiguously DRESS + lateral elsewhere, such as Melbourne, with [æ]; but there is also limited variation and hypercorrection in the other direction, with prelateral DRESS and even some TRAP words occasionally pronounced with the DRESS vowel. There is also regionally and socially distributed variation between [æ] ~ [ç] before a lateral in mall, Albany, Malvern etc. In Melbourne there is variation in Bourke Street Mall, which is usually [æ] but occasionally [ç]; in Perth there is Hay Street Mall, which is usually [ç] but sometimes [æ]. All other cities in Australia have [ç] in their pedestrian malls: Adelaide’s Rundle Mall, Sydney’s Pitt Street Mall, Brisbane’s Queen Street Mall, Hobart’s Elizabeth Street Mall and Launceston’s Brisbane Street Mall. The [æ] pronunciation in Melbourne and Perth is perhaps influenced by spelling, or may reflect a more archaic form; the brand name of the former Malvern Star bicycle was usually pronounced with [æ], but the suburb of Melbourne where its factory was located is now mainly pronounced with [ç], which is also the more prestige form, and more like modern RP. In another small word class there is variation between [ç] ~ [Å] as in off or Launceston, but this reflects mainly age and social differences rather than region. There are two mergers in progress which tend to collapse prelateral high tense vowels into the corresponding high lax vowel: FLEECE becomes KIT, and GOOSE and CURE become FOOT; for example, deal merges on dill, fool merges on full, and fuel also merges on the FOOT vowel, but keeps its medial [j] glide. This merger is furthest advanced in Adelaide and Hobart, somewhat less so in Sydney and Brisbane, and least so in Melbourne; note also the differences between front and back vowel patterns. Table 4 shows the regional distribution for four cities; comparable Sydney data is not available. Table 5 shows the social and stylistic stratification of these variables in Melbourne.

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Table 4.

Shortened prelateral high vowels (interview style, per cent) Melbourne

Brisbane

Adelaide

Hobart

/il/ to /Il/

8

10

34

37

/ul/ to /Ul/

25

20

41

40

Table 5.

Social and gender differences in Melbourne shortened prelateral high vowels (interview style, per cent) MC female

MC Male

WC female

WC male

/il/ to /Il/

0

5

12

16

/ul to /Ul/

3

10

50

35

A parallel phenomenon also variably merges GOAT into GOT before /l/, especially in words of more than one syllable, so that poll usually has the GOAT vowel, but polling very often has the GOT vowel. 2.4.

Offglides

There is considerable variation in the presence and prominence of offglides in the formerly mainly rhotic word classes NEAR, CURE, SQUARE, CLOTH. The main regional characteristic here is the very frequent presence of long monophthongal forms for NEAR and CURE vowels in Sydney. Monophthongs are very much less frequent elsewhere other than preconsonantally within a word as in years or toured. In addition, they are prevalent when prelateral in certain frequently-occurring polysyllabic words such as really. Monophthongs for NEAR in Melbourne range from three to 18 per cent of tokens overall, showing strong social and smaller gender and stylistic differences: working class speakers, males and casual style use more monophthongisation. Monophthongs represent 0 to 17 per cent of final and 10 to 35 per cent of preconsonantal NEAR tokens, again with a strong social difference, but also a substantial gender and style difference. Monophthongal forms of SQUARE and CLOTH words are by contrast extremely frequent throughout Australia, with environmental constraints; a following consonant within the word favours a monophthong, parallel to NEAR and CURE. Conversely, strong stress and final position permit a virtually disyllabic realisation, [IjŒ] for NEAR, [(j)UwŒ] for CURE, [EjŒ] for SQUARE, and [çwŒ] for CLOTH words without final consonant such as paw or pore (or for that matter poor; in Australian English many CURE words without a preceding /j/ glide have merged into the CLOTH class, and even those with the glide also vary between [jUwŒ]

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and [jç] realisations). Table 6 (Bradley and Bradley 1979: 78) shows the pattern of monophthongisation for the NEAR vowel in Melbourne among tertiary-age students, favouring the offglide in isolation and also showing differences between speakers based on the type of secondary school attended, reflecting social differences. In the sample, there were no female students who had attended technical secondary schools. Table 6.

Monophthong pronunciation of /E´/ by Melbourne tertiary students (gender, style, type of secondary school, per cent) Male

Technical Catholic Private Prestige Private

2.5.

Female

interview

wordlist

interview

wordlist

92 37 57 75

62 23 27 13

86 59 81

48 14 19

Lax vowels

The regional differences in front lax vowels are clear: Sydney and Newcastle, just to its north in New South Wales, have substantial centralisation of the KIT vowel, though less extreme than in most sociolects of New Zealand English. Melbourne has this vowel raised nearly to cardinal [i], and also has raised both DRESS and TRAP vowels consistently more than other areas of Australia, as first noted in Bradley and Bradley (1979). This occasionally leads to misunderstanding between Melbournians and other Australians. The New Zealand centralisation or KIT and raising of DRESS and TRAP are carried much further, but represent a continuation of this unusual pattern of raising of lax vowels (Labov 1994: 138) already incipient in Australian English before its transfer to New Zealand, and extended further in Melbourne.

3.

Regional consonant characteristics

In Australia there is a clear regional difference in postvocalic /l/ vocalisation to [F], which is quite frequent in South Australia and considerably less frequent elsewhere in Australia, as in words such as fill, fell, feel, fail, fool, full, fuel and so on. The result is a half-open nearly-back unrounded offglide following the vowel. D’Onghia (1995) found an overall frequency of 40.8 per cent vocalization, both in the capital, Adelaide, and in Millicent, a rural town. It is slightly more frequent in

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more casual speech and in the speech of those who are younger, higher-status, and male. For full quantified details see D’Onghia (1995). Horvath and Horvath (2001b) give further details on the regional pattern: New Zealand has much more vocalisation, nearly half overall; in Australia, vocalization is least frequent in Brisbane and Melbourne, intermediate in Hobart and Sydney, and greatest in South Australia (both Adelaide and Mount Gambier, a large town in the southeast of the state). Vocalisation is increasing; it is more frequent among younger speakers. The preconsonantal environment shows under ten per cent vocalisation in Brisbane and Melbourne and roughly similar proportions of around 20 per cent elsewhere, but the major regional difference resides in vocalisation of final /l/ which ranges from under ten per cent in Brisbane to over 40 per cent in South Australia (Horvath and Horvath 2001b: 40–42). Vocalisation of syllabic /l/ as in pickle again differs within Australia; least (three per cent) in Brisbane, nine to 15 per cent in Melbourne, Hobart and Sydney, and 26 and 28 per cent in Adelaide and Mount Gambier in South Australia. In New Zealand, syllabic /l/ vocalizes much more frequently (about 60 per cent); furthermore, the conditioning environment also differs: a preceding velar consonant favours vocalisation most in Australia, but a preceding labial favours it most in New Zealand (Horvath and Horvath 2001b: 42–45). The pronunciation of -thing in something/nothing/everything/anything with [INk] is socially and regionally variable in Australia, as in southeastern England. The London-like [INk] is more frequent in informal speech and the speech of those of lower social status across Australia, but is particularly frequent in some mining towns in the Hunter Valley north of Sydney in New South Wales, as documented by Shnukal (1982: 204) for Cessnock, where the overall frequency of [INk] is nearly 60 per cent, and much lower elsewhere, as for example in Melbourne where we found 33 per cent for males and 15 per cent for females (Bradley and Bradley 1979: 81). There are various forms, such as the [f] and [v] realisations of /T/ and /D/, which are found throughout Australia but are somewhat more often used in Sydney (overall frequency of 4.4 per cent) than in Melbourne and elsewhere. Horvath shows that this is more frequent among those of Italian background, males and those of lower socioeconomic status; but it is by no means restricted to these groups (Horvath 1985: 98–102). In addition to the usual pattern of sociostylistic variation in which the [f] and [v] are the informal and low-status forms, there are numerous individuals in all parts of Australia, not all male or of low status, who use a very high proportion of [f] and [v]. Certain very frequent words such as with also favour the [f] or [v] alternative.

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Regional lexicon

The examples of regional differences in Australian English most often given by non-linguists are lexical. One well-known instance is a kind of processed cooked meat in a tube, called German sausage up to 1914. With anti-German feeling due to World War I, all manufacturers around Australia changed the name: in Melbourne, to Stras(s)burg (usually shortened to Stras(s)), in Adelaide to Fritz, in Sydney to Devon, in Brisbane to Windsor, in Tasmania to Belgium and in Perth to Polony. Other examples abound, in names of plants and animals, childhood and school activities, household items, and so on. Some are more subtle: the Tasmanian predilection to specify types of potatoes (pinkeye, sebago and so on) while most other regions do so much less. For a very large number of further examples, see Bryant (1985, 1989). Indeed, one of the popular criticisms of the first edition of the otherwise excellent Macquarie Dictionary (Delbridge et al. 1981) is that it gives mainly or only the Sydney or New South Wales forms. Most of these gaps are lexical, but some, including words showing TRAP/PALM/FACE differences, are in regional pronunciation; note, for example, cicada – the first edition gives only the Sydney PALM alternative (1981: 346). Later editions have attempted to correct this bias; see (Delbridge et al. 1987: 326) and the Federation edition (Delbridge et al. 2001: 353), which give both PALM and FACE for this word, but with the Sydney form first and without attempting to localise the alternatives. Other minor errors in this area include basic with TRAP cited as American; this is actually an older, especially Queensland alternative to the more usual FACE pronunciation, and is not American. Here we have another example of stereotyping: attributing sociolectally low-status things to American influence, a long-standing Australian tendency.

5.

Rural versus urban

One popular stereotype about regional differences is that rural speech is more broad (see the chapter by Horvath, this volume; briefly, the low-status sociolect) and urban speech is more cultivated; or that the entire rural hinterland speaks much the same – more slowly, more nasally, and more broadly. This is a part of the national reverence for the bush (rural Australia) and the idea that it is more typically Australian. It is clear that a higher proportion of rural Australians use a greater frequency of broad vowels than urban Australians. The first to quantify this were Mitchell and Delbridge (1965: 39), who found that 43 per cent of adolescents outside capital cities used broad vowels, while only 23 per cent of urban youth did so; and conversely, 19 per cent of urban adolescents but only four per cent of others used cultivated (high-status sociolect) vowels.

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However, the rural hinterland of each capital city shows much the same regional (as opposed to social) characteristics as that city. Examples include the treatment of postvocalic laterals in Millicent and Mount Gambier in South Australia, the distribution of TRAP and PALM, and so on. The regional phonological boundaries do not correspond exactly to state boundaries; from a linguistic point of view, part of northern New South Wales is a part of Queensland, part of southwestern New South Wales around Broken Hill is similar in some ways to South Australia, and the Riverina region of southern New South Wales forms part of Victoria.

6.

Conclusion

On the whole, the regional differences in Australian English phonology are small, but growing. Some have started to come to the notice of more language-aware members of the speech community, but curiously continue to be denied by most Australian linguists. As is usual in many varieties of English, these differences reside mainly in the vowel system. Like many other non-rhotic varieties of English, some changes involve the vowels affected by that deconstriction and the rearrangements of the system which result, as in the case of TRAP/PALM and so on. Some current changes in progress revolve around the next wave of vowel shifts found in many varieties of English, those associated with postvocalic laterals: vocalisation and/or changes in preceding vowels.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Ash, Sharon 1982 The vocalization of /l/ in Philadelphia. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia. Bradley, David 1980 Regional differences in Australian English. University of Melbourne Working Papers in Linguistics 6: 73−93. 1991 /æ/ and /a˘/ in Australian English. In: Cheshire (ed.), 227–234. Bradley, David and Maya Bradley 1979 Melbourne vowels. University of Melbourne Working Papers in Linguistics 5: 64−84. Bryant, Pauline 1985 Regional variation in the Australian English lexicon. Australian Journal of Linguistics 4: 55−66.

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Bryant, Pauline 1989 The South-East lexical usage region of Australian English. Australian Journal of Linguistics 9: 85−134. Buchanan, Hannah 2001 Neutralisation of DRESS and TRAP before /l/ in New Zealand English. Wellington Working Papers in Linguistics 13: 15−29. Buzo, Alec 2002 Reggie Vee is alive: regional variation in Australasian English. Quadrant 35: 68−71. Delbridge, Arthur, John R.L. Bernard, David Blair, Pam Peters and Sue Butler (eds.) 1981 The Macquarie Dictionary. North Ryde: Macquarie Library. 1987 The Macquarie Dictionary. 2nd edition. North Ryde: Macquarie Library. 2001 The Macquarie Dictionary. Federation edition (2 Volumes). North Ryde: Macquarie Library. D’Onghia, Peter 1995 Adelaide English: the right way to order a Cooper’s peIl eIF. B.A. Honours thesis, La Trobe University, Melbourne. Horvath, Barbara 1985 Variation in Australian English: The Sociolects of Sydney. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Horvath, Barbara and Ronald J. Horvath 2001a Short A in Australian English: a geolinguistic study. In: Blair and Collins (eds.), 341−355. 2001b A multilocality study of a sound change in progress: the case of /l/ vocalization in New Zealand and Australian English. Language Variation and Change 13: 37−56. Mitchell, Alexander G. and Arthur Delbridge 1965 The English of Australian Adolescents. Sydney: Angus and Robertson. Oasa, Hiroaki 1979 Is regional dialectology possible in Australia? A quantitative study of systematic regional variations in the pronunciation of Australian university students. Unpublished manuscript, Australian National University, Canberra. Shnukal, Anna 1982 You’re getting somethink for nothing: two phonological variables in Australian English. Australian Journal of Linguistics 2: 197−212.

Australian creoles and Aboriginal English: phonetics and phonology Ian G. Malcolm

1.

Introduction

English speakers began to occupy Australia on a permanent basis in 1788. The Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander encounter with English led to the development of “restructured English” varieties which Holm (1988−1989: 538) sums up as “ranging from contact jargon, pidgin, and creole to post-creole Aboriginal English.” Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander influence has not been the only factor leading to the development of contact varieties in Australia. As Mühlhäusler (1991: 160) has pointed out, there have been three major pidgin traditions in Australia: Aboriginal, Chinese and Melanesian. However, the most widespread and enduring contact varieties have been those associated with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander speakers and it is with these that this chapter will be concerned. There are two major creole varieties currently spoken in Australia: Kriol, spoken mainly in the Northern Territory and extending into North West Queensland and the Kimberley region of Western Australia, and Cape York Creole, or Broken, spoken in the Torres Strait Islands and neighbouring parts of the Cape York Peninsula. There is one major variety of Aboriginal English, which embraces a number of regional varieties. It is spoken within the context of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities in all parts of Australia. It is arguable that the creole varieties, although English-derived, are not, like Aboriginal English, varieties of English. The treatment of the creoles and Aboriginal English here will therefore be separate, with the creoles being discussed first.

2.

Historical and cultural background

Prior to 1788, an Indigenous population of some 300,000 people distributed across what is now Australia spoke an estimated 250 languages and perhaps again as many distinctive dialects. The speech communities were relatively self-contained (though not necessarily monolingual), typically comprising 500 to 600 people united with a common inheritance of language, land and world-view. There had, indeed, been some foreign contact prior to the coming of Captain Cook in 1770, including visits in the early 17th century from Spanish and Dutch navigators (see Dutton 1970: 140−142) and contacts in northern regions with Portuguese and

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Malay traders (Harris 1991: 196). There is, however, little or no linguistic legacy from these contacts. The British occupation of the area around Port Jackson in New South Wales (NSW) from 1788 brought Aboriginal people for the first time into more or less intensive contact with English speakers. From the first, the local people preferred to keep with their own kind and entered into communication with the English speakers only on an intermittent basis. However, as the number of colonists increased and Indigenous society became increasingly devastated and depleted through the effects of the colonial experience, cross-cultural communication increased, drawing on the resources of both the local Indigenous varieties and the various dialectal and sociolectal varieties of English brought by the newcomers. It has been demonstrated by Troy (1990) that between 1788 and 1845 the interaction between the Aboriginal people and the English-speaking colonists led to the development of a jargon, incorporating elements of the Sydney language and of English, which progressively stabilized into a variety, or varieties, of pidgin, referred to as NSW Pidgin. Although the jargon served the purposes of communication between Aboriginal people and colonists, its use soon extended beyond this. The process by which it expanded in structure and function to become NSW Pidgin was favoured by a number of factors. These included the contribution of existing contact varieties developing in the Pacific (Mühlhäusler 1991: 169), the disruption of pre-contact social and territorial patterns, the bringing-together of Indigenous people requiring a lingua franca, and the Indigenous people’s need for a linguistic variety in which they “could rationalise the radical social changes they experienced as a result of contact with the colonists” (Troy 1990: 7). NSW Pidgin, then, became a highly significant medium of communication in colonial Australia, and it developed two major varieties, one, more influenced by the English superstrate, serving the needs of cross-cultural communication and the other, more influenced by the Aboriginal substrate languages, serving the needs of communication among Aboriginal people (Troy 1990). As it was used for Indigenous-based communication along traditional trade routes (Troy 1990: 2; Harris 1991: 199) and in the colonial explorations and expansion of pastoral properties (Harris 1991: 198; Sandefur 1979: 12) taking place to the north, west and south of the original settlement, as well as on ocean navigation routes (Malcolm 2001: 213), it provided the framework for the development of associated pidgins, creoles and non-StE varieties in many parts of Australia. It is likely that the circumstances of contact in New South Wales (and in the other southern states) did not lead towards the development of creole varieties. The Pidgin performed the useful function of a lingua franca among Aboriginal people and, where it was supplanted under the ongoing and growing influence of English, it gave way to a non-StE ethnolect (Aboriginal English) rather than developing into an independent language. The creoles which developed in the Northern Terri-

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tory and the Torres Strait Islands came about relatively more recently, favoured by significantly different sociolinguistic circumstances. By the late 19th century, the pastoral industry, which had expanded progressively from its origins in New South Wales, had enabled the influence of NSW Pidgin to extend through Queensland into the Northern Territory. It seems likely, according to Harris (1991), that other pidgins developed in various locations where Aboriginal people settled down on stations or settlements, but that, under the influence of the Pidgin which had come from New South Wales, these had, by the beginning of the 20th century, converged towards one widely-understood standard, which he calls Northern Territory Pidgin English. The creolization of this Pidgin began to occur in the context of an Anglican Church mission at Roper River which had been established in 1908. This mission, according to Harris (1991: 201), provided a refuge for Aboriginal people from eight different groups who had been facing “near annihilation” from hunting gangs. The creole began to form when the Pidgin was adopted by a generation of children at the mission as their language. The Roper River Creole (incorporating at least one other variety which developed later elsewhere) came to be spoken widely across the north of the continent, and by the mid-20th century had come to displace an increasing number of Indigenous languages (Hudson 1981: 1). In 1976 this creole came to be referred to by the name Kriol, following the orthography which had been developed for the language (Hudson 1981: 169). It has at least 20,000 speakers. The second major creole variety in Australia arose in the Torres Strait Islands where, according to Shnukal (1988: 5), following the discovery of commercial quantities of various products of the sea, large numbers of Europeans, South Sea Islanders, Papua New Guineans and others came to exploit these resources. A common language was required and an existing variety, Pacific Pidgin English, came to be used. Torres Strait Islanders who worked in the marine industries came to use this Pidgin, and by the 1890s it was being used by children of Torres Strait Islander and immigrant origin on one of the islands. Some years later the Pidgin creolized independently on another island. The use of the creoles spread throughout the islands, because they were not only found to be useful but also assumed by many to be English (Shnukal 1991: 183). Torres Strait Creole (or “Broken”, as it is called locally) has around 3,000 native speakers and up to 12,000 second language speakers (Shnukal 1991: 180). The origins of Aboriginal English varieties are diverse. Mühlhäusler (1991: 170) has pointed out that there is evidence for the independent development of pidgins in a number of parts of Australia, and there is thus the possibility that independent Aboriginal English varieties arose in association with these. However, there is also significant evidence of the widespread influence on Aboriginal English in many parts of the country of NSW Pidgin (Malcolm 2001: 212−213). In places where creoles developed, the Aboriginal English varieties show some evidence of having undergone processes of decreolization. They have also been shown to bear

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clear resemblances to local Aboriginal languages and to non-standard Australian English (Eagleson, Kaldor and Malcolm 1982: 134). Evidence from cognitive linguistic research (Sharifian 2002) supports the view that even varieties which are formally close to Australian English maintain a significantly different conceptual basis. The strong resemblances between Aboriginal English varieties Australiawide, and their maintenance as distinct from Australian English, suggest that to a large extent convergence has taken place upon an agreed ethnolect.

3.

The phonology of Australian creoles

As Mühlhäusler (1991: 165) has indicated, the scholarly study of Australian pidgins and creoles is both scarce and recent in origin. There has been no extended study of the phonology of an Australian creole, although phonological features have been included in a number of descriptions, and what follows here will be drawn from these, with the focus being particularly on Kriol (as spoken in Bamyili [Barunga], Roper River and Fitzroy Valley) and Torres Strait Creole (Broken) and will focus particularly on their more basilectal or “heavy” varieties. The voices in the accompanying audio-material are those of Kriol speakers from the Kimberley Region of Western Australia. 3.1.

Vowels

Both Kriol and Cape York Creole, have reduced the number of vowel phonemes of English to five: /i/, /e/, /a/, /o/ and /u/, allowing for some further differentiation on the basis of lengthening. Table 1 (below) shows the effects of this on the pronunciation of the 28 words in Wells’ (1982) list. Table 1. Vowels in Australian creoles KIT

i>

FLEECE



*NEAR

ija

DRESS

e~a

FACE

e ~ eI

SQUARE

eja

TRAP

e~a

PALM

a

START

a

LOT

a

*THOUGHT

o

NORTH

o

STRUT

a

*GOAT

o ~ oU

FORCE

o

FOOT

u

GOAL

o

*CURE

*BATH

a

GOOSE

u

HappY

i

CLOTH

a

PRICE

a ~ aj ~ aI

lettER

a

NURSE

o˘ ~ a˘ ~ e˘

CHOICE

oj ~ aj ~ oI

horsES

idj

MOUTH

a ~ aU

commA

a

jUa

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Ian G. Malcolm

This table needs to be read with caution, since some of the words on it (those indicated with an asterisk) were identified by Kriol informants as not occurring in their language. Generally, the same trends are apparent in Kriol and Torres Strait Creole, though the monophthongization of diphthongs and the phonemically distinctive use of vowel length have been reported only with respect to the former. The open-close contrast among vowels is less significant than in StE. It has been suggested with respect to Fitzroy Valley Kriol (Fraser 1977) that – under the influence of the local language Walmajarri – the open-close contrast is less salient than the short-long contrast. This may well apply more widely. It is noteworthy that most Aboriginal languages have only three vowels, /i/, /a/ and /u/, though sometimes distinguishing long and short forms of these (Eagleson, Kaldor and Malcolm 1982: 41). The creole systems are closer to such a pattern than to the pattern of StE with the 28 discriminations represented in Wells’ (1982) table. 3.2.

Consonants

Australian creoles do not always recognize the voiced-voiceless consonant distinction, nor do they reliably discriminate most fricatives. Kriol varieties may incorporate a number of retroflexed and lamino-palatal consonants not found in StE. The consonants of basilectal Fitzroy Valley Kriol have been represented (using Kriol orthography) by Hudson (1981: 28) in the following table: Table 2.

Stop Nasal

Consonants of basilectal Kriol (Hudson 1981) Bilabial

Interdental

Alveolar

Retro-flexed

Laminopalatal

Velar

p m

th

t n

rt rn

tj ny

k ng

Fricative

s

Lateral

l

Rhotic

rr

Semiconsonant

w

rl r

y

Torres Strait Creole (Broken) has 15 consonant phonemes, represented in Broken orthography by Shnukal as follows:

Australian creoles and Aboriginal English: phonetics and phonology Table 3.

661

Consonants of Torres Strait Creole (Broken) (Shnukal 1991: 186)

Stops Nasals Fricatives Liquids Semi-consonants

Bilabial

Dental

p, b m

t, d n s, z l, r

w

Palatal

Velar k, g ng

y

It is common for stops to substitute for fricatives and affricates. Fraser (1977) reports that in Fitzroy Crossing Children’s Pidgin the bilabial stop /p/ substitutes for /b/, /v/ and /f/ and that a dental /t/ substitutes for /t/, /d/ and non-final /s/, /z/ and //. Similar substitutions occur in Ngukurr-Bamyili Kriol (Sandefur 1979: 37). Although voiced and unvoiced stops both occur in Torres Strait Creole, their distribution may not be the same as in StE. Crowley and Rigsby (1979) note the replacement of a voiceless stop with a voiced one when it occurs between two vowels, as in /peba/ for ‘paper’. There is no phonemic opposition in Torres Strait Creole between [p] and [f], between [t] and [], between [d] and [] or between [b] and [v]. In Fitzroy Crossing Kriol, /d/ may alternate with /t/. Also, Sandefur (1979: 37) observes that in Kriol, /d/ may be replaced by a flapped rhotic [ř] when it occurs in a word between two vowels. It will be observed from Table 2 that the sound represented in Kriol orthography as is not the interdental fricative of StE but an interdental stop. Similarly, the retroflexed and the lamino-palatal function as stops (Hudson 1981: 28). All the nasal consonants of StE, /m/, /n/ and // also occur in Australian creoles. There are, however, in basilectal Kriol additional retroflexed and palatalized nasals. Fricatives are generally absent from basilectal Kriol though in basilectal Fitzroy valley Kriol, there is one fricative, /s/. Fricatives are reduced in occurrence in Torres Strait Creole. There is no phonemic opposition in Torres Strait Creole between [s] and [] (Crowley and Rigsby 1979; Dutton 1970). In Kriol, sibilants tend to be deleted to avoid consonant clusters (Sharpe and Sandefur 1976); in Bamyili (Barunga) the affricates /t/ and /d/ are replaced by a lamino-palatal stop /dj/ (Sandefur 1979: 37). The glottal fricative /h/ is generally absent from the creoles. The lateral /l/ is common to English and most Aboriginal languages and is retained in the creoles. Basilectal Kriol also has retroflexed and palatalized laterals. The rhotic /r/ is trilled in basilectal Kriol and Torres Strait Creole. It may also be flapped when it occurs between two vowels (Sandefur 1979: 37).

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3.3.

Supra-segmental features

In Kriol, the primary stress is usually on the first syllable. Hence /*dilib/ ‘tea’, /*ginu/ ‘canoe’. In Torres Strait Creole words derived from English normally retain their original stress (Shnukal 1991: 185). The intonation patterns of Kriol and Torres Strait Creole are comparable to those of English except for a distinctive pattern associated with ongoing action, in which the pitch of the verb rises and is maintained over the verb’s successive repetitions, accompanied by vowel lengthening before a final fall or rise. Such a pattern would accompany a sentence such as: “ay bin wed wed wed wed wed wed najing, ‘I waited for ages but nothing (came)’” (Sharpe and Sandefur 1977: 53). Fraser (1977) observes that in Fitzroy Crossing Children’s Pidgin there are three contours: a “sequence contour” in which the primary stress is on the first syllable and the secondary stress on the final, with higher pitch; an “emphatic contour” in which the final syllable receives primary stress, length and higher pitch; and a “question contour” where the primary stress and pitch rise are on the final syllable. Sharpe and Sandefur (1977) and Fraser (1977) have observed among Kriol speakers a characteristic laryngealisation accompanying high-pitched segments. This may be especially in evidence in certain speech acts with a scolding or correcting function. 3.4.

Phonotactic rules

In Kriol, and to a lesser extent in Torres Strait Creole, there is a resistance to consonant clusters in initial or final position. Many of the phonotactic processes observed by Holm (1988−1989) in Atlantic creoles are also in evidence in Australian creoles. For example the omission of one or more sounds at the beginning of a word (“aphesis”), as in /ton/ ‘stone’, /piya/ ‘spear’ (Sandefur 1979: 39); the omission of one or more sounds from the middle of a word (“syncope”), as in Torres Strait Creole, where the middle consonant of three is often dropped word-medially (Crowley and Rigsby 1979); the omission of one or more sounds from the end of a word (“apocope”), as in /ek/ ‘axe’, /fren/ ‘friend’ (Sandefur 1979: 40); the addition of a sound at the beginning of a word (“prothesis”), as in njusimpat ‘to use’ (Fraser 1977: 152) and nother ‘other’ (Dutton 1970: 151); the insertion of a sound in the middle of a word (“epenthesis”), as in jineg ‘snake’, jilib ‘sleep’ (Sharpe and Sandefur 1977: 52), burrum ‘from’ (Sharpe and Sandefur 1977: 58) and anis ‘ants’ (Shnukal 1991); the addition of a sound to the end of a word (“paragogue”), as in wandi ‘want’ (Sharpe and Sandefur 1977: 56) and aksi ‘ask’ (Dutton 1970); and the changing of the order in which two sounds occur in a word (“metathesis”), as in aksi ‘ask’ (Dutton 1970: 144).

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Vowel harmony may be observed between affix and stem, as in the case of the transitive verb suffix allomorphs, e.g. tjak-am ‘throw’, kuk-um ‘cook’ (Hudson 1981: 37).

4.

The phonology of Aboriginal English

Like Australian English, Aboriginal English is characterised by a recognizably similar pronunciation across the continent. Unlike Australian English, it may bear interlanguage features in some areas associated with Indigenous languages or creoles. The treatment here will be inclusive, providing information on the main areas where, at least in some places, Aboriginal English shows most contrast with StE. There has been no focused study on the phonology of Aboriginal English, but descriptions have been provided (often for the assistance of school teachers) in the context of descriptions of the dialect as a whole. The description here will draw principally on work carried out in Queensland (e.g. Readdy 1961; Alexander 1968; Flint 1968), the Northern Territory (e.g. Sharpe 1976) and Western Australia (Eagleson, Kaldor and Malcolm 1982; Malcolm 2001). 4.1.

Vowels

Speakers in many areas distinguish fewer vowels and diphthongs than in StE. At the more extreme end of the continuum of varieties, Aboriginal English would show little difference from Australian creoles with respect to its repertoire of vowels. Thus, for example, in a description of Aboriginal English as spoken in Queensland, Flint (1968: 12) identifies the dialect as having five vowels, /i/, /e/, /a/, /o/ and /u/, with phonemic length on /i/, /a/, /o/ and /u/. The dialect is, however, much more inherently variable than this would suggest, and some of the variability is suggested in the following table based on Wells’ (1982) word list: Table 4. Vowels in Aboriginal English KIT

I~i>E

FLEECE

I~i

NEAR

i

DRESS

E>Q

FACE

eI ~ e > √I

SQUARE

E

TRAP

Q>E

PALM

a

START

a

LOT

Å~ç

THOUGHT

ç>Å

NORTH

ç

STRUT

√~Q~Å~I

GOAT

oU 5 o(U) 5 ç 5 √U

FORCE

ç

FOOT

U

GOAL

Å

CURE

jU´

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Table 4 (continued). Vowels in Aboriginal English BATH

a

GOOSE

u

happY

i

CLOTH

Å

PRICE

aI ~ a > ÅI

lettER

a~√>´

NURSE

Π~ e > Ϋ

CHOICE

çI aU ~ Q > a(U)

horsES

´z

commA

a

MOUTH

It will be observed with respect to high front vowels that (as in the case of the varieties reported on by Holm 1988−1989), Aboriginal English may sometimes not observe the opposition between /i/ and // or may simply observe long and short forms of /i/. In addition, there may be no discrimination between the mid front vowels /E/ and /Q/, or between these and the high front vowels. The mid central vowel /Œ/ is not consistently present. It may alternate with, or be supplanted by, the mid front vowels /E/ or /e/, or by the diphthong /E´/ (Alexander 1965: 57). The neutral short vowel /´/ tends to be replaced by the mid central vowel /√/, as in /j√sElf/ ‘yourself’ or by the low central vowel /a/. The StE vowel /√/, for its part, may not always occur in contexts where it would be expected, but may alternate with either front or back vowel alternatives. In Woorabinda, Queensland, the following alternations have been noted: [√ ~ I ~ Q ~ Å] (Alexander 1968). The low central vowel /a/, which is the most commonly-occurring in Aboriginal languages Readdy (1961: 60), is widely distributed in Aboriginal English and often occurs in contexts where StE would use /´/. The mid back vowels /Å/ and /ç/ are often used interchangeably, thus /dçg/ ‘dog’, and, under influence from creole, they may also alternate with /o/ (Alexander 1968). The high back vowel /u/, which is widespread in Aboriginal languages and creoles, is also widespread in Aboriginal English. There is a strong tendency in Aboriginal English (shared to some extent by Australian English, as well as by creoles) for diphthongs to be monophthongized (Readdy 1961: 64; Alexander 1968; Eagleson, Kaldor and Malcolm 1982). Only /çI/ and /U´/ seem unaffected by this. With respect to the other diphthongs, /eI/ may become /e/ or /E˘/, /oU/ may become /o/, /aI/ may become /a˘/; /aU/ may become /a(U)/ or, under the influence of Australian English, /Q/, /I´/ may become /i/ and /E´/, /E˘/. Although Australian English is well known for its diaphonic variation which distinguishes cultivated from broad and general speech, the influence on Aboriginal English of the broad variants is not as pervasive as might be expected, and some of the Aboriginal English vowels have been compared to American rather than broad Australian variants (Sharpe 1976: 15−16). Broad Australian variants are, however, not entirely absent from Aboriginal English.

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665

Consonants

The inventory of consonants in Aboriginal English, and their distribution, show the influence of the pidgin/creole history of the dialect, although historic records show that many of the phonetic modifications which took place in the early stages of pidginization are no longer operating (Malcolm and Koscielecki 1997: 59). Table 5 represents the consonants of Aboriginal English, showing some of the common substitutions which take place: Table 5.

Consonants of Aboriginal English BiInter- Labio- Alveolar Retro- Lamino- Velar Glottal labial dental dental flexed palatal

Stop vl

p

t

k

v

b

g

Nasal

m

d n

N

Fricative vl

T

f

s

S

v

D

v

z

Z

Affricate vl

tS

v

dZ l rr

Lateral Rhotic Semi-consonant

w

(h)

r y

Most of the consonants of Australian English, with the exception of /h/ in some cases, may be heard in Aboriginal English, but the phonemic boundaries of the latter are much more porous, with respect to voicing versus non-voicing, stop versus fricative articulation and alveolar versus lamino-palatal place of articulation. There is clearly a preference for stop over fricative articulations. Bilabial, alveolar and velar stops are strongly in evidence, and often substitute for other sounds. The distinction between voiced and voiceless stops is not strongly maintained, with the general exception of when they are in the initial position (Flint 1968: 12; Alexander 1968; Sharpe 1976). There is a preference for voiceless stops except before nasals (Sharpe 1976: 13). Although the /t/ is represented on the chart as alveolar, in some communities it is dental (Flint 1968). The labio-dental fricatives /f/ and /v/ are often replaced by stops, as in /pçl/ ‘fall’ and /hQp/ ‘have’, though the substitution of the fricatives may be selective, as in /faIp/ ‘five’ (Eagleson, Kaldor and Malcolm 1982: 82). The interdental fricatives /T/ and /D/ are highly vulnerable to substitution by alveolar plosives /t/ and /d/, as

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in most contact and non-standard forms of English. /T/ may also become /s/, as in /nasIN/ ‘nothing’. Sibilants are not always clearly distinguished and may be substituted for one another. This also affects the affricates /tS/ and /dZ/ which may become /S/. The status of the glottal fricative /h/ is unresolved in Aboriginal English. The tendency to remove it initially and medially is balanced by an equally strong tendency, at least in some areas, to add it initially where it does not occur in StE (see 4.4. below). The nasals, which have counterparts in Aboriginal languages and creoles, generally occur as in StE, except for the common substitution of the allomorph /-an/ for /-IN/, as in /sINan/ ‘singing’. The Aboriginal English consonant inventory, in places where there is influence from Aboriginal languages and creole, includes a trilled variant of /r/, which may occur where /t/ comes between vowels, as in gorrit ‘got it’ and purrit ‘put it’ (Sharpe 1976: 15). In some places the variant is flapped rather than trilled, as in /hIRIm/ ‘hit him’ or /S√R√p/ ‘shut up’ (Eagleson, Kaldor and Malcolm 1982: 81). 4.3.

Suprasegmentals

Generally, the stress patterns of Aboriginal English are comparable to those of Australian English, except for the tendency (observed also in Kriol) to stress initial syllables, resulting in pronunciations like /*kægru/ ‘kangaroo’ and /*tibi/ ‘TV’. Some Western Desert languages tend towards syllable timing, which reflects on the stress patterns of Aboriginal English speakers in these areas. As in Australian creoles, the intonation patterns are generally compatible with those of Australian English, but the expression of prolonged or repeated action (as in Kriol) is accompanied by a rise in pitch and the repetition or lengthening of the vowel in the relevant word, as in go go go We bin

g-o-o-o-o-o or

We bin

(Sharpe 1976: 6).

A rise of pitch and a slowing down of pace may occur wherever emphasis is being sought, as in, as in bi-i-iggest shark ‘very big shark’ (Eagleson, Kaldor and Malcolm 1982: 88) or We bin go wi-i-i-ight aroun ebrywhere ‘We went all around’. The high final level intonation of Aboriginal English, as in long way Me and Patrick wen

(Eagleson, Kaldor and Malcolm 1982: 84)

enhances narrative effect. Unlike the high rise terminal of Australian English, it is level, not rising, and does not function as an attention holding device.

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A number of scholars (Sharpe 1976: 5; Alexander 1968) have commented on the relatively high speed of Queensland Aboriginal English, particularly among children. Sharpe (1976: 5) suggests that, in this regard, Queensland Aboriginal children’s speech may contrast with that of their Alice Springs counterparts. Aboriginal English vocal quality can vary distinctly from that of Australian English. Sharpe (1976: 4) has observed the huskiness of the pronunciation of Aboriginal children in Alice Springs at low volume, which contrasts with its penetrating quality at high volume and has attributed this to “faucalisation, or tightening of the faucal pillars at the back of the mouth.” 4.4.

Phonotactic rules

Like Australian creoles, Aboriginal English tends to reduce consonant clusters in ways common to Atlantic creoles, as described by Holm (1988−1989). Aphesis is common, as in bout ‘about’, roun ‘around’, cos ‘because’ (Sharpe 1976), leven ‘eleven’, long ‘along’, way ‘away’, I’z ‘I was’, we’z walking ‘we was walking’, onna table ‘on the table’, alla people ‘all the people’ (Sharpe 1977), we’ent ‘we went’. There are also frequent cases of the omission of initial /h/. Syncope occurs occasionally, as in akn ‘acting’. Apocope often occurs, especially involving the loss of final stops after nasals, as in /hEn/ ‘hand’, /hQvn/ ‘haven’t’ and /wEn/ ‘went’. The cases of prothesis noted in Kriol are carried over into Aboriginal English, with nused to ‘used to’ and nother ‘other’. In addition, /h/ is frequently added to words where it does not occur in StE, as in hant ‘aunt’, happle ‘apple’ (Alexander 1968), hoval ‘oval’ and huncle ‘uncle’. Epenthesis occurs in /imiju/ ‘emu’ (Sharpe 1976). The common case of paragogue from non-standard Australian English, anythingk ‘nothing’, occurs at least in Sydney Aboriginal English (Eagleson, Kaldor and Malcolm 1982: 135). 4.5.

Morphophonemics

The forms of liaison which apply in StE are not always carried over into Aboriginal English. Thus /D´/ ‘the’ does not become /Di/ before a vowel. Nor does /´/ ‘a’ become /Qn/ ‘an’. The contractions which are common in StE, such as I’ll, we’re, are not as common in Aboriginal English, partly because of the less frequent use of auxiliaries. However, the /D/ of the may be assimilated to the preceding consonant (Sharpe 1977) and the preverbal tense marker bin may be contracted to ‘n, as in They’n see it (Dwyer 1974: 19). Initial /w/ may be lost in words in both stressed and unstressed positions, as in /aI√s/ ‘I was’ (Readdy 1961: 94) and I na wear it on ‘I want to wear it’ (Dwyer 1974: 19). Aboriginal English speakers, unlike Australian English speakers, do not always neutralize the vowels in function words such as at, from and to when they are unstressed.

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5.

Practical and research issues

The existence and the importance of Australian creoles and Aboriginal English have long been disputed in public discourse in Australia. Although school systems are beginning to recognize the fact that creoles and Aboriginal English may be coherent linguistic systems, there is still a reluctance to allow them any significant place in the development of school literacy. It is assumed that literacy skills in StE will be best acquired by concentrating only on that variety, despite research evidence of the relevance of home language to effective learning of standard varieties. The better integration of creoles and Aboriginal English into school learning depends on continued research to produce fuller descriptions of these varieties and the development of a greater range of quality learning resources in them. In parts of Australia where creoles are spoken one practical problem is the differentiation between creole and Aboriginal English. In some cases, the creole speakers have long believed that in speaking creole they have been speaking English. As Aboriginal English in such areas may be (at least in part) describable as a post-creole continuum, there are practical problems in deciding, for educational purposes, where to draw the line between the creole and the English, although the line has been drawn in written language with the development of an alternative orthography for Kriol. The problem of differentiating Kriol from Aboriginal English has implications for the development of learning materials and for pedagogical approaches. There have been some attempts to describe the patterning of variation between Aboriginal English and creole by employing the concept of the implicational scale. An implicational scale is a continuum of features which form a hierarchy, where each feature can be assumed to apply the existence of features above it. As Blumer (1987: 1) who has been working on such a project puts it, “[o]ne example of implication is the observation that if an Aboriginal creole speaker can pronounce the fricative [th], he/she can and will also pronounce [t]. That is, the presence of the phonetic feature [th] implies the presence of the phonetic feature [t], but not vice versa.” On the basis of implicational analysis of data from over 900 children living in regions close to where Kriol was spoken, Blumer (1987: 14) found that the data fitted “a model implicational scale extremely well”, suggesting that a geographical continuum existed in the area studied. It remains to be seen from further research whether other continua (e.g. socio-economic) can also be traced.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM.

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Alexander, Diane H. 1965 Yarrabah Aboriginal English. B.A. Honours thesis, Department of English, University of Queensland, Brisbane. Alexander, Diane H. 1968 Woorabinda Australian Aboriginal English. M.A. thesis, Department of English, University of Queensland, Brisbane. Blumer, Caroline 1987 Linguistic variation in the Kimberley region. Unpublished paper. Crowley, Terry and Bruce Rigsby 1979 Cape York Creole. In: Timothy Shopen (ed.), Languages and Their Status, 153−207. Cambridge, MA: Winthrop. Dutton, Thomas E. 1970 Informal English in the Torres Straits. In: William S. Ramson (ed.), English Transported: Essays on Australasian English, 137−160. Canberra: Australian National University Press. Dwyer, John 1974 The school and the Aboriginal child. The Aboriginal Child at School 2: 3−19. Eagleson, Robert D., Susan Kaldor and Ian G. Malcolm 1982 English and the Aboriginal Child. Canberra: Curriculum Development Centre. Flint, Elwyn 1968 Aboriginal English: linguistic description as an aid to teaching. English in Australia 6: 3−22. Fraser, Jill 1977 A phonological analysis of Fitzroy Crossing Children’s Pidgin. Work Papers of SIL-AAB A 1: 145−204. Harris, John W. 1991 Kriol − the creation of a new language. In: Suzanne Romaine (ed.), Language in Australia, 195–203. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hudson, Joyce 1981 Grammatical and semantic aspects of Fitzroy Valley Kriol. M.A. thesis, Australian National University, Canberra. Malcolm, Ian G. 2001 Aboriginal English: adopted code of a surviving culture. In: Blair and Collins (eds.), 201−222. Malcolm, Ian G. and Marek M. Koscielecki 1997 Aboriginality and English. Mount Lawley, Western Australia: Centre for Applied Language and Literacy Research, Edith Cowan University. Mühlhäusler, Peter 1991 Overview of pidgins and creole languages of Australia. In: Suzanne Romaine (ed.), Language in Australia, 159−173. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Readdy, Coral 1961 South Queensland Aboriginal English. B.A. Honours thesis, Department of English, University of Queensland, Brisbane. Sandefur, John R. 1979 An Australian Creole in the Northern Territory: A Description of NgukurrBamyili Dialects (Part 1). Work Papers of SIL-AAB, Series B, Volume 3. Darwin: Summer Institute of Linguistics.

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Sharifian, Farzad 2002 Conceptual-Associative System in Aboriginal English: Evidence from Western Australian Urban Aboriginal Primary-School Children. Ph.D. dissertation, School of International, Cultural and Community Studies, Edith Cowan University, Mount Lawley. Sharpe, Margaret C. 1976 The English of Alice Springs Aboriginal Children: Report to Teachers, Part 1. Alice Springs: Traeger Park Primary School. 1977 Alice Springs Aboriginal English. In: Ed Brumby and Eric Vaszolyi (eds.), Language Problems and Aboriginal Education, 45–50. Mount Lawley, Western Australia: Aboriginal Teacher Education Program, Mount Lawley College of Advanced Education. Sharpe, Margaret C. and John Sandefur 1976 The creole language of the Katherine and Roper River areas, Northern Territory. In: Michael Clyne (ed.), Australia Talks: Essays on the Sociology of Australian Immigrant and Aboriginal Languages, 63–77. Canberra: Research School of Pacific Studies, Australian National University. 1977 A brief description of Roper Creole. In: Ed Brumby and Eric Vaszolyi (eds.), Language Problems and Aboriginal Education, 51−60. Mount Lawley, Western Australia: Aboriginal Teacher Education Program, Mount Lawley College of Advanced Education. Shnukal, Anna 1988 Broken: An Introduction to the Creole Language of Torres Strait. (Pacific Linguistics Series C 107.) Canberra: Australian National University. 1991 Torres Strait Creole. In: Suzanne Romaine (ed.), Language in Australia, 180−194. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Troy, Jakelin 1990 Australian Aboriginal Contact with the English Language in New South Wales: 1788 to 1845. Canberra: Department of Linguistics, Research School of Pacific Studies, Australian National University.

Bislama: phonetics and phonology* Terry Crowley

1.

Historical and cultural background

Bislama is an English-lexifier contact language spoken in Vanuatu in the southwest Pacific which initially developed as a distinct variety over about half a century between the mid-1800s and the end of the nineteenth century. The earliest developments in the history of Bislama took place outside of Vanuatu, which was then known as the New Hebrides. Soon after the establishment of the British colony of New South Wales in 1788, a pidgin developed which was used between settlers and Aboriginal peoples along the ever-expanding frontier (Baker 1993). Features of this pidgin made their way into what has often been referred to as South Seas Jargon, which was spoken by ships’ crews and individuals on shore in a wide variety of locations around the Pacific islands in the early 1800s (Clark 1979–1980; Keesing 1988). Bislama first became established in southern Melanesia on trading stations established by Europeans in the southern islands of Vanuatu and the Loyalty Islands of New Caledonia from around the mid-1800s (Crowley 1990: 60–65). Europeans were engaged in a three-way trade which involved sandalwood and sea slugs (or beche de mer) that were sold in China, tea from China that was sold in the Australian colonies, and iron, cloth and other trade goods from the colonies of eastern Australia that were traded for sandalwood and sea slugs in southern Melanesia. The European traders employed substantial numbers of people from a variety of different islands on their shore stations with the result that these stations were linguistically very mixed. The fairly unstable pre-existing South Seas Jargon, based largely on an English lexicon, quickly became the basis for a new variety of contact language used in association with these stations. This variety began to stabilize during the 1850s–1860s and acquired a number of local characteristics. Given its association with the sandalwood and beche de mer trades, it came to be known alternatively as Sandalwood English or Beche de Mer English. The name Sandalwood English was soon replaced completely by Beche de Mer English, which eventually became Bislama, the name by which the language is generally known in Vanuatu today. These developments were further promoted by the widespread use of the contact language throughout the 1870s–1890s by Melanesian labourers on the sugar plantations of Queensland. The subsequent repatriation of most Vanuatu labourers after Queensland entered the new Commonwealth of Australia in 1901 ensured that knowledge of Bislama had become fairly widespread not only in the south

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but also in the central and northern islands of Vanuatu. However, while Bislama spread throughout Vanuatu during this era, it underwent contraction in the Loyalty Islands of New Caledonia, and it was gradually replaced there as the lingua franca by French in the decades after France established itself as the colonial power in 1853 (Crowley 1990: 65–70). It was not until 1906 that colonial government was established in Vanuatu, making the islands probably the last part of the world to be placed under colonial control. The system of government that was established was also unique in that the New Hebrides were jointly administered by Britain and France as a “condominium”. A local plantation economy was established during this period which further encouraged the spread of Bislama throughout the entire archipelago, as this promoted internal population movement. The language underwent a variety of lexical and structural developments, to the point where it had come to acquire the basic features that we find in Bislama today by the second quarter of the twentieth century. Contact with both English and French on these plantations – as many of the plantations were in fact French-owned – provided a point of contrast in the development of Bislama with the mutually intelligible varieties of Melanesian Pidgin spoken in Solomon Islands (where it is known as Pijin) and Papua New Guinea (where it is known as Tok Pisin). The traditional animist religions of Vanuatu have for the most part been replaced by, or perhaps merged with, introduced Christianity. However, people continue to live for the most part in small rural villages and are dependent on subsistence agriculture for their livelihoods. The Melanesian speakers of Bislama are culturally and physically quite different from the indigenous people of Australia to the west, as well as being quite different from their Polynesian neighbours to the east. However, the Melanesian people of Vanuatu exhibit many cultural and physical similarities with their Melanesian neighbours in Solomon Islands and Papua New Guinea to the north and northwest, as well as with the indigenous people of New Caledonia to the south. One major point of linguistic similarity between Vanuatu, the Solomon Islands and Papua New Guinea relates to the continued use of different varieties of Melanesian Pidgin in the three countries. Intensive contact between people from the three countries ceased with the end of recruiting to the sugar plantations of Queensland after the federation of the Australian colonies in 1901. With more than a century of independent development since then each variety has acquired a number of distinctive features. For part of this period, speakers of Tok Pisin in German New Guinea were exposed to German and there has been some lexical influence from this language which is absent in both Bislama and Solomons Pijin. Mention has already been made of contact with French in Vanuatu which has resulted in a significant input of French vocabulary that we do not find in the other two national varieties. Finally, of course, the different vernaculars in the three countries have each contributed a certain amount of vocabulary from local sources.

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Sociolinguistic situation

The New Hebrides became politically independent from Britain and France in 1980. The nation renamed itself at that time as Vanuatu, a word which derives from widely distributed indigenous words of the shape vanua ‘land’ and tu ‘stand’, which was intended to symbolize the independent status of the new republic. Vanuatu is a highly multilingual nation boasting at least 80 actively spoken languages (and up to a couple of dozen other languages that have either become extinct or which have become moribund since initial contact with Europeans) distributed across a population of about 200,000 (Crowley 2000). It has the most complex linguistic demography of any country in the world in terms of the number of languages per head of population. At independence, Bislama was declared by the constitution to be the national language, largely in order to avoid the need to make what would have been a politically divisive choice between English and French. This declaration makes Vanuatu unique among the countries of the world in that it has a former pidgin language that has higher constitutional status than a former colonial language. English and French are recognized alongside Bislama as co-equal “official languages”, and they (but not Bislama) are also declared to be “languages of education”. However, Bislama is effectively the default language throughout the country when people with different vernacular backgrounds come together, with English and French seldom being used informally or conversationally. Bislama began its life as a plantation pidgin performing a fairly restricted range of functions and having, therefore, a relatively restricted vocabulary. However, over the last few decades it has dramatically expanded in the range of contexts in which it is used. It is now widely used as a language, particularly in urban areas, of religious worship, national and local politics (including parliamentary debate), the bureaucracy, the legal system, shopping, work, sport, the radio, friendship and romance, and even family life. As a result, the lexicon of Bislama has expanded dramatically to allow its speakers to meet a wide variety of new needs. Much of this expansion has been met by borrowing from English (e.g. palemen ‘parliament’) or, to a lesser extent, French (e.g. lepap ‘pope’ < le pape), though a fair amount of new vocabulary has also developed spontaneously on the basis of original Bislama roots (e.g. mama loa ‘constitution’ < mama ‘mother’ + loa ‘law’). A national identity for the new Republic of Vanuatu is currently being forged, but this identity is largely expressed through the medium of Bislama rather than any of the local vernaculars, or through English or French. Accompanying this sense of national identity expressed through Bislama, associated to a significant extent with the relatively young urban population in the main centres of Port Vila and Luganville, is a very rapid stylistic expansion of the language into areas of youthful enthusiasm and adventure. Since independence, there has been a dramatic resurgence of traditional kava drinking, which is largely carried out through

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the medium of Bislama. Patterns of youthful indulgence in alcohol, partying and dancing, along with urban issues such as unemployment and inter-communal disputes have also brought Bislama into new social domains for which its speakers have needed to acquire new vocabulary and stylistic variation (Crowley 1989). Although nearly all children these days attend English- or French-medium primary schools for six years where metropolitan languages represent the dominant (or only) medium of instruction – and smaller numbers proceed to secondary and even tertiary education –, neither English nor French has any significant use informally among Ni-Vanuatu (as citizens of Vanuatu are called). These formerly colonial languages function as “high” languages in a kind of diglossic relationship with Bislama at the national level, being reserved largely for written or official purposes, with Bislama being the language of choice even for most tertiary-educated Ni-Vanuatu in informal and spoken contexts. Despite the fact that Bislama began its history as nobody’s first language, thereby qualifying unambiguously as a pidgin language, it has gradually been acquiring small numbers of first-language speakers. Possibly as much as ten percent of the population today grows up speaking Bislama and no local vernacular, largely as a result of marriages between people from different language groups living in urban centres or on plantations. Because of this, some writers insist on referring to Bislama as a “creole” rather than as a “pidgin”, though in reality there are no clearly recognizable features by which Bislama acquired as a second language and Bislama acquired as a first language can be differentiated, with the distinction therefore being essentially meaningless in the local context. My own preference is to avoid such a pointless distinction by referring to Bislama generically as a “contact language”.

3.

Lexicon

Although the lexicon of Bislama is predominantly English in origin, there is nevertheless a substantial minority of words which derive from other sources (compare Crowley 1995 for a fairly comprehensive and up-to-date dictionary of Bislama). About 3.75% of the total number of entries in the Bislama lexicon derive from local vernacular sources (e.g. /nakamal/ ‘meeting house’, /nawita/ ‘octopus’, /nawimba/ ‘Pacific pigeon’), while between 6% and 12% derive from French (e.g. /masut/ ‘diesel’ < mazout, /pamplimus/ ‘grapefruit’ < pamplemousse), and about 0.25% of the lexicon derives from a variety of other sources (e.g. /pikinini/ ‘child’ < Portuguese pequenho ‘small’ via South Seas Jargon, /burau/ ‘Hibiscus tiliaceus’ < Tahitian purau, /nalnal/ ‘club’ < Early Australian Aboriginal Pidgin nalanala). The range 6–12% for words of French origin rather than a fixed figure is because the forms of a substantial number of words are ambiguous betweeen an English

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and a French origin, e.g. /sigaret/ < cigarette, /plastik/ < English plastic or French plastique, /letrik/ < English electric or French électrique. Melanesian etyma are most widely encountered in semantic fields for which neither English nor French provided terms which were readily accessible to Europeans in the early contact situation (or since). We therefore find a substantial number of names for local flora and fauna being expressed by means of words of local origin, e.g. /nakavika/ ‘Malay apple’, /nakatambol/ ‘dragon plum’, /naNai/ ‘native almond’, /natora/ ‘island teak’, /nasiviru/ ‘coconut lory’, /natamap/ ‘castrated boar’. Terminology relating to Melanesian cultural practices and artefacts is also often expressed by words of local origin, e.g. /nakaimas/ ‘sorcerer’, /nakamal/ ‘meeting house’, /nimaNgi/ ‘grade-taking ceremony’, /nasama/ ‘outrigger (of canoe)’, /laplap/ ‘type of food’. It should be noted that nouns of Melanesian origin are often, though by no means always, incorporated into Bislama with the widely distributed noun phrase marker proclitic (or prefix) /na-/ reanalyzed as an invariant part of the noun. French etyma are distributed across a wider range of semantic fields, making it more difficult to predict what meanings are likely to be expressed by means of words of English origin and which will be expressed by words of French origin. Some words of French origin clearly relate in a variety of ways to the French colonial presence, either through administrative terminology such as /delege/ ‘French district agent’ < délégué, /lameri/ ‘town hall’ < la mairie, terminology associated with catholicism such as /lames/ ‘mass’ < la messe, /per/ ‘priest’ < père, or terminology associated with fine cuisine and restaurant dining such as /lai/ ‘garlic’ < l’ail, /pima/ ‘chilli’ < piment, /susut/ ‘choko’ < chouchoutte, /gato/ ‘cake’ < gateau. It will be noted once again that nouns from French are often incorporated into Bislama with the preposed definite article le or la attached as an inseparable part of the noun itself as /le-/ or /la-/. However, other meanings seem to be fairly unpredictably expressed by means of words of French or English origin. It is difficult, for example, to see why the children’s game of tag should be referred to in Bislama as /lelu/ (< French le loup) rather than by a word of English origin, or why some playing cards are referred to by words of French origin (e.g. /las/ ‘ace’ < l’ace, /pik/ ‘spades’ < pique) while others are referred to by means of English etyma (e.g. /daiman/ ‘diamonds’, /hat/ ‘hearts’). It should also be noted that there is a substantial number of synonymous pairs involving words of both English and French origin, e.g. /ariko/ (< French haricot) and /bin/ ‘bean’, /pistas/ (< French pistache) and /pinat/ ‘peanut’, /lapul/ (< French l’ampoule) and /glop/ ‘light globe’. The bulk of the Bislama lexicon, however, is clearly of English origin. In some cases, either the form or the meaning of an English word, or both, has been substantially changed in Bislama (or the English form from which a Bislama word has been derived is now seldom used in modern English). We therefore find examples such as /purumbut/ ‘step on’ (< put ‘im foot), /kolta/ ‘bitumen’ (< coal tar), /gia-

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man/ ‘tell lies’ (< nineteenth-century Australian English gammon), /solmit/ ‘promiscuous’ (< salt-meat). In yet other cases, the English source of a Bislama form is immediately obvious, though the meaning may have been substantially modified, often under the direct influence of vernacular semantic patterns. Thus, Bislama /han/ comes from English hand, but it translates as both ‘arm’ and ‘hand’, following the widespread lack of separate terms for these meanings in vernaculars. In the same way, Bislama /lek/ (from English leg) covers the meaning of both ‘leg’ and ‘foot’ in English. There is a substantial component of the lexicon involving words that are ultimately based on English lexical sources yet which have been compounded creatively by speakers of Bislama to express meanings without having to resort to direct lexical copying from English. During the Second World War, for example, when Ni-Vanuatu were first exposed to grenades through their association with American troups, they coined their own term for this, i.e. /hanbom/ < /han/ ‘hand/ arm’ + /bom/ ‘bomb’. The same pattern has been used for the more recent coinage /roketbom/ ‘missile’ < /roket/ ‘rocket’ + /bom/ ‘bomb’. Local flora and fauna also often came to be referred to by means of such compound terms, e.g. /blufis/ ‘parrotfish’ < /blu/ ‘blue’ + /fis/ ‘fish’, /retwut/ ‘Java cedar’ < /ret/ ‘red’ + /wut/ ‘wood’.

4.

Phonemic contrasts and phonetic realizations

4.1.

Vowels

Table 1.

Bislama vowels – summary

Orthographic form

Phonetic form

English source

FIT

[fit]

fit

DRES

[dres]

dress

TRAK

[trak]

truck

HOT

[hot]

hot

GAT

[gat]

gut

PUTUM

[putum]

put him

PAS

[pas]

pass

KOF

[kof]

cough nurse

NES

[nes]

PIS

[pis]

piece

FES

[fes]

face

PAMA

[pama]

Paama (island)

Bislama: phonetics and phonology Table 1. (continued)

Bislama vowels – summary

Orthographic form

Phonetic form

English source

DOTA KOT

[dota] [kot]

daughter coat

JUS PRAES

[tSus] [prais]

juice price

JOES MAOT

[tSois] [maut] [bia] [skwea] [stat] [not] [fos] [sua] [hapi] [leta] [masis] [barakuta]

choice mouth beer square start north force sure happy letter matches barracouda

BIA SKWEA STAT NOT FOS SUA HAPI LETA MASIS BARAKUTA

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Bislama is usually described as having the following five-way vowel contrast (with no phonemically contrastive length): i e

u o a

These segments have phonetic values that correspond closely to the cardinal IPA values, with little observable allophonic variation. There is a tendency for rural or lesser educated speakers from the island of Tanna to phonetically lengthen a stressed vowel in a disyllabic word, and to reduce an unstressed vowel in a closed final syllable to a high central vowel, resulting in alternations for a form such as /apol/ ‘apple’ as [ápol] and [á˘p6l]. Such pronunciations, however, are strongly stigmatized, and their appearance seems to be exaggerated as a result of stereotyping. As with the consonants, there are some fairly regular correspondences between the shapes of Bislama words and their corresponding English or French etyma, with substantial reduction in the number of contrasts between English and Bislama. English /a˘/, /Q/ and /√/, for example, regularly correspond to Bislama /a/, e.g. /mak/ ‘mark’, /man/ ‘man’, /taN/ ‘tongue’. New words are constantly being

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incorporated into the language from English and French by generalizing on these correspondences. This is not to say, however, that the forms of Bislama words can be unfailingly predicted from the shape of an English word. There are substantial numbers of unpredictable shifts such as /talem/ ‘tell’ (rather than /telem/), /rusum/ ‘roast’ (rather than /rosem/) and /flaik/ ‘flag’ (rather than /flak/). The most regular patterns of correspondence between English and French vowels on the one hand and Bislama vowels on the other are set out in Table 2. Table 2.

Bislama vowels from English and French sources

Eng.

Fr.

Bis.

Source word

Bislama word

i

i

i

leak

lik

‘leak’

pique

pik

‘spades (in cards)’

I

I

i

lick + him quitte-à-quitte

likim kitkit

‘lick’ ‘draw (in sport)’

– E

e E

e

pétanque

petoN

‘French bowls’

e

leg arrière

lek arier

‘foot, leg’ ‘reverse’

Q a

– a

a a

man mark mazout

‘man’ ‘mark’ ‘diesel’

√

–

a

tongue

man mak masut taN

-´ o

— o

-a o

together sauce gateau

tugeta sos gato

‘together’ ‘sauce’ ‘cake’

ç

ç

o

u

u

u

salt pilote boot

sol pilot but

‘salt’ ‘tug boat’ ‘boot’

bouton

butoN

‘button’

U

U

cook

‘cook’

gourmand

kuk gurmoN

putain butteur monsieur butteur

piteN biter misie biter

‘whore’ ‘shooting marble’ ‘sir’ ‘shooting marble’

– – – –

y Y

ø ø

u i i e e

‘tongue’

‘sucker (of plant)’

Bislama: phonetics and phonology Table 2. (continued)

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Bislama vowels from English and French sources

Eng.

Fr.

Bis.

Source word

Bislama word

–

E‚

eN

putain

piteN

‘whore’

–

ç‚

oN

bouchon

busoN

‘cork, stopper’

—

a‚

oN

croissant

kwasoN

‘croissant’

It should be noted that non-final central vowels tend to be fairly unpredictably reflected in Bislama as /o/, /e/, /i/ or /a/. We therefore find English etyma such as the following where /Œ˘/ is reflected invariably as /o/: /bon/ ‘burnt’, /wok/ ‘work’. In /tanem/ ‘turn’ it is reflected invariably as /a/, in /gel/ ‘girl’ it is reflected as /e/, while in the word for ‘shirt’ it is reflected variably as /set ~ sot/. Non-final schwa also often varies between /o/, /e/ or /a/, as in /ofisol ~ ofisel ~ ofisal/ ‘official’. Words in English containing diphthongs beginning with mid vowels and ending in a high vowel of the same value for frontness and roundedness tend to be somewhat variable in their Bislama reflexes. Word-medially, such diphthongs are generally reflected simply as mid vowels with no off-glide, e.g. Eng. oU

Bis. o

Source word post

Bislama word pos

‘post’

eI

e

cake

kek

‘cake’

Word-finally, there is rather more variation between monophthongal and diphthongal reflexes in Bislama, e.g. Eng. -oU

Bis. -o(u)

Source word blow

Bislama word blo ~ blou

‘blow’

-eI

-e(i)

day

de ~ dei

‘day’

Word-final diphthongs beginning with a mid vowel and having a schwa offglide – corresponding to post-vocalic /r/ in rhotic dialects of English – also vary in their Bislama reflexes between a simply mid vowel and sequences of /ea/ and /oa/, e.g. Eng. -o´

Bis. -o(a)

Source word more

Bislama word mo ~ moa

‘more’

-e´

-e(a)

where

we ~ wea

‘where’

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4.2.

Consonants

Table 3 sets out the consonants which can be shown to contrast in Bislama. Table 3.

Bislama consonants

p

t

c

k

b

d

g

m

n

N

v f

s

h

r l w

j

This inventory represents something of a mesolectal variety which is quite widely distributed among speakers of Bislama throughout Vanuatu. As will be demonstrated in section 4.3., there are some variations to this phoneme inventory. These segments once again have phonetic realizations by and large that are suggested by the IPA values. The liquid represented as /r/ is phonetically normally an alveolar flap, though an occasional trilled articulation can be heard as a free variant. Some speakers produce instead a retroflex flap for this sound, though this is a strongly stigmatized pronunciation associated with speakers of particular local languages. The symbol /j/ represents a palatal semi-vowel. Particular note should be made of the fact that /c/ is generally realized as a voiceless post-alveolar grooved affricate, i.e. [tS], though there is often a slightly fronted realization, i.e. [ts]. Words of vernacular origin tend to be adopted into Bislama with minimal change in shape, as the Bislama consonant inventory very closely resembles that of widely distributed vernacular patterns. With a consonant inventory that is substantially reduced vis-à-vis those of English and French, however, we find that a number of contrasts are systematically merged in Bislama. In particular, the English contrasts between /s/, /z/, /S/ and /Z/ are merged as /s/, e.g. /sain/ ‘sign’, ‘shine’, /resa/ ‘razor’. The contrasts between /t/ and /T/ on the one hand and /d/ and /D/ on the other are merged as /t/ and /d/ respectively, e.g. /tin/ ‘tin’ and /tiNtiN/ ‘think’, /dis/ ‘dish’ and /disfala/ ‘this (< this + fellow)’. The contrast between voiced and voiceless segments is lost word-finally in Bislama, with only voiceless segments being found. Thus, the contrast between English dog and dock results in the homophonous form /dok/ meaning ‘dog’ and ‘warehouse (< dock)’ in Bislama. The main patterns of correspondence between consonantal contrasts in standard English and French on the one hand and Bislama on the other are set in Table 4, along with illustrations of each pattern (with an English etymon presented first and a French etymon presented second).

Bislama: phonetics and phonology Table 4.

Bislama consonants from English and French sources

Eng.

Fr.

Bis.

Source word

Bislama word

p

p

p

place pistolet

t

t

t

tongue tricot kitchen claquettes book barre à mine dog dame-jeanne girl délégué man manivelle knife cochonet

ples pistole taN

k

k

k

b

b

b

d

d

d

g

g

g

m

m

m

n

n

n

– N

-¯

-in N

l rV

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– l

l

champagne

triko kicin klaket buk baramin dok damsen gel delege man manivel naif kosone sompain taN

‘place’ ‘pistol’ ‘tongue’ ‘sweater’ ‘cook-house’ ‘flip-flops’ ‘book’ ‘crowbar’ ‘dog’ ‘flagon (of wine)’ ‘girl’ ‘district agent’ ‘man’ ‘starting handle’ ‘knife’ ‘jack (in bowls)’ ‘champagne’

tongue light le loup right robinet arrière house friend profiter vinegar avocat

lait lelu rait robine arier haus fren profite viniga avoka

‘tongue’ ‘light’ ‘tag (game)’ ‘right’ ‘tap’ ‘reverse’ ‘house’ ‘friend’ ‘take advantage’ ‘vinegar’ ‘lawyer’

rV

rV

– h f

Vr – f

Vr h f

v

v

v

T D-

–

t

think + think

tiNtiN

‘think’

–

d-

this + fellow

disfala

‘this’

-Ds

– s

-rs

z

z

s

an + other + fellow saucepan lycée razor mazout

narafala sospen lise resa masut

‘other’ ‘saucepan’ ‘secondary school’ ‘razor’ ‘diesel’

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Table 4. (continued) Eng.

Fr.

Bis.

S

S

s

Bislama consonants from English and French sources Source word

Bislama word

ship

sip

‘ship

bouchon

busoN

‘cork, stopper’

Z

Z

s

decision gendarme

disisen sondam

‘decision’ ‘French police’

tS

tS

c

church caoutchouc

cec kaucuk

‘church’ ‘rubber’

dZ

– w

c w

judge west oui + oui you

cac wes wiwi ju

‘judge’ ‘west’ ‘French (arch.)’ ‘you (sg.)’

l’ail

lai

‘garlic’

w j-

–

–

-j

j-i

Note that with respect to French words containing /¯/, forms have only been attested as being incorporated into Bislama in which this segment appears word-finally, e.g. champagne. Note also that the correspondences presented above for /r/ hold up despite the substantial phonetic difference between this liquid in the three languages. Finally, words beginning with /j-/ are extremely rare in French and none of these have been incorporated into Bislama, hence the lack of examples above. While it is often possible to predict by these fairly regular correspondence statements what form a word of English origin will take in Bislama, there is by no means a completely regular set of correspondences. Thus, while English /tS/ generally corresponds to Bislama /c/ as in /cec/ ‘church’, the form /sakem/ ‘throw (< chuck)’ is idiosyncratically reflected as /s/. Also, while English /r/ is the primary source of /r/ in Bislama, there are some forms in which Bislama intervocalic /r/ unexpectedly derives from a number of other sounds, as in /griri/ ‘greedy’ (where /-d-/ is reflected as /-r-/ rather than /-d-/) and /wora/ ‘water’ (where /-t-/ is reflected as /-r-/ rather than /-t-/). However, it is certainly not the case that all instances of intervocalic /-d-/ and /-t-/ in English can be reflected with /-r-/ in Bislama, as evidenced by invariant forms such as /hotel/ ‘hotel’ and /lada/ ‘ladder’. 4.3.

Phonemic variation

Although many speakers operate with the consonant inventory just presented, there is considerable individual (and regional) variation in the maintenance of this set of contrasts with particular words. No comprehensive regional study of phonological diversity has ever been carried out on Bislama, nor has there been

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any empirically-based quantitative study of phonological variation. Phonological variation is also often related in informal comment locally to an individual’s language of education – whether one is considered to be ‘anglophone’ or ‘francophone’ – though such comments have once again not been subjected to detailed empirical scrutiny. It is difficult to present statements which cover all possibilities regarding variation from this basic pattern of consonantal contrasts given that there is a fairly extensive range of possibilities. The following general observations can be made about the loss of phonemic contrasts vis-à-vis the basic consonant inventory, though it should be recognized that some additional phonemic mergers may be encountered among small groups of speakers, or in particular lexical sets with some speakers: (i)

The contrast between voiced and voiceless stops is not consistently made. For some speakers, there appears to be little contrast at all, with only voiceless unaspirated stops found in all environments. It is far more common, however, for a contrast to be made, but for the contrast to be lost with some words. That is, while some speakers may contrast /dok/ ‘dog’ and /tok/ ‘talk’ on the one hand and /draim/ ‘dry (something)’ and /traim/ ‘try’ on the other, other speakers may merge /dok/ and /tok/ as /tok/ while maintaining a contrast between /draim/ and /traim/, and yet other speakers may merge /draim/ and /traim/ as /traim/ while maintaining a contrast between /dok/ and /tok/. If any merger takes place, it is most likely to be in the direction of the voiceless stops rather than the voiced stops.

(ii)

The contrast between /v/ and /f/ is also not very stable. The /v/ segment is not nearly as widely distributed as /f/ in any case, and some speakers lose the contrast entirely, having only /f/. This results in alternations such as /vanuatu/ and /fanuatu/ ‘Vanuatu’ within the speech community.

(iii)

For many, perhaps even most, speakers, the contrast between voiced and voiceless stops is lost in homorganic nasal-stop clusters, this time in the direction of phonetically voiced segments. Thus, while for some speakers there may be a voicing difference in pairs such as /stampa/ ‘base (< from English stump)’ and /namba/ ‘number’, most people pronounce /stamba/ and /namba/ respectively.

(iv)

A small minority of speakers may go further than this in tending to lose the contrast between voiced and voiceless stops and homorganic nasal-stop clusters, pronouncing all as voiced prenasalized stops, particularly in wordinitial position. Thus, a word that will be pronounced by many as /pik/ ‘pig’ may occasionally be encountered as /mbik/.

(v)

There also is a substantial amount of unpredictable alternation between voiceless stops and the corresponding voiceless fricatives, with /pik/ ‘pig’

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and /faia/ ‘fire’ occasionally being heard as /fik/ and /paia/ respectively. This kind of alternation is strongly stigmatized with some words, but quite widespread with others. (vi)

There is a tendency for the distinction between /c/ and /s/ to be lost among some speakers, or with some words, resulting in alternations such as /calus ~ salus/ ‘jealous’ and /cenis ~ senis/ ‘change’.

(vii)

The glottal fricative /h/ is often lost. This is especially frequent intervocalically with pronunciations such as /biain/ ‘behind’ being far more common than /bihain/, though it can also be lost word-initially, resulting in not-infrequent alternations such as /harem ~ arem/ ‘hear’. (Note that /h/ is never found word-finally in Bislama.)

Given that for the vast majority of speakers, Bislama is acquired after the acquisition of one of 80 or so local vernaculars in childhood, these kinds of phonological mergers, as might be expected, correspond to some extent to the distribution of particular features in the substrate languages. It has been noted, for example, that in a number of languages from the island of Malakula, while there is a prenasalized /mb/ phoneme, there is no correponding plain voiceless /p/, and it is precisely with speakers of such languages that more widely distributed pronunciations such as /pik/ ‘pig’ are encountered as /mbik/. The stigmatized retroflex flap articulation of /r/ that was mentioned earlier also appears to correspond closely to the distribution of retroflex rather than alveolar flap realizations of /r/ in local vernaculars, particularly those of northern Efate and parts of Pentecost island. However, having pointed to a correlation between such variations from the basic phonological pattern described above and differences between local vernacular phonologies, we should exercise some caution in assuming that all regional phonological variation shares the same explanation. Not only do we have an inadequate knowledge of the distribution of variants to this basic phonological system of Bislama, but we have a detailed knowledge of the phonologies of only a small number of vernaculars (Lynch and Crowley 2001: 14–19). Even with the limited knowledge that we do have, it is not difficult to point to features of vernacular phonologies which are not carried over into Bislama. In the Paamese language, for instance, there is word-final neutralization of the contrast between /p/ and /v/ with phonetic free variation between stop and fricative realizations, though this does not seem to correspond to any tendency among speakers of Paamese to loose their contrast between the stop and fricative word-finally when they are speaking Bislama. In addition to the kinds of phonological mergers just described, there are speakers who operate with somewhat expanded consonant and vowel inventories, at least for some words. This seems to correspond to a considerable extent to a higher command of English or French. With such speakers, we tend to find that not only is the contrast between /s/ and /c/ maintained, but there is also a tendency to dis-

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tinguish between /s/ and /S/ in words of English or French origin. Thus, in contrast to the majority pronunciations of /sup/ ‘soup’ and /sus/ ‘shoe’ we may encounter /sup/ and /Sus/ respectively. There also appears to be a tendency among better-educated speakers for the contrast between long (or diphthongized) and short (monophthongal) vowels in English – which is ordinarily completely lost in Bislama – to be maintained in the form of a tense-lax distinction. Thus, while /set/ for many speakers is the pronunciation for ‘shirt’ and ‘agreed’ (< set), some speakers may make a contrast between /sEt/ ‘agreed’ and /set/ ‘shirt’. It should be pointed out, however, that as far as I am aware, such an observation has not been offered in any previously published account of the language and study needs to be carried out by a well-trained phonetician to verify (or disconfirm) this. Another area of phonemic uncertainty involves the relationship between vowel quality and phonemically contrastive voicing with stops in word-final position in words of English origin. It was indicated above that there is no contrast in Bislama word-finally between /p, t, k/ on the one hand and /b, d, g/ on the other, with minimally contrasting pairs in English ending up as homophones in Bislama. Although I am fairly confident that there is indeed no final voicing contrast in Bislama, it may be worth investigating the possibility that there may be some kind of surviving contrast in nature of the preceding vowel. My suspicion is that there may be some kind of acoustically detectable laxness in the vowel of forms such as /pik/ ‘pig’ in contrast to a more tense vowel in /pik/ ‘plectrum (< pick)’. Such a test would need to be carefully constructed so that it is based on natural pronunciations without any possibility of contamination from spelling pronunciations. 4.4.

Orthography

Bislama is a written language with a spelling system that has been developing for several decades. The development of the written form of the language coincided initially with the greater use of the language for religious purposes with the first translations of the gospels being produced in the 1970s, leading up to a translation of the entire Old and New Testaments by 1997. The 1970s also saw a rise of political consciousness associated with a sense of nationalism. The struggle for independence, along with political debates and campaigns since then, have largely been conducted through the medium of both spoken and written Bislama. The spelling system largely reflects the set of phonemic contrasts presented at the beginning of this chapter, with orthographic ng representing /N/, j representing /c/, y representing the glide /j/, and ae and ao representing the diphthongs /ai/ and /au/ respectively. Some etymologically – rather than phonemically – based spellings have become more or less universally accepted. In particular, the wordfinal voicing contrast in English is typically maintained in the Bislama spelling system for words of English origin, even though the voicing contrast is not made

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by most speakers. We therefore find an orthographic contrast in Bislama between dok ‘warehouse (< dock)’ and dog ‘dog’, even though phonemically both can be represented as /dok/.

5.

Phonotactics

Bislama phonotactics can be described in general as being somewhat simplified with respect to the consonant-cluster possibilities that we find in English. Word-final clusters which undergo sporadic reduction word-finally in English are systematically simplified in Bislama, e.g. /distrik/ ‘district’, /han/ ‘hand, arm’. Other final clusters which do not undergo simplification in English are also regularly reduced in Bislama, e.g. /stam/ ‘stamp’, /stiN/ ‘stink’. Some word-final clusters involving a consonant followed by a sibilant are optionally separated by an epenthetic front vowel, e.g. /bokis ~ boks/ ‘box’, /sikis ~ siks/ ‘six’, /canis ~ cans/ ‘chance’. Other consonant sequences are also sporadically affected by vowel epenthesis, e.g. /melek/ ‘milk’, /lasitern ~ lasiterin/ ‘in-ground water reservoir (< French la citerne)’, /film ~ filem/ ‘film’. Initial and medial consonant clusters are much less likely to undergo reduction, though changes are nonetheless encountered. Three-member intervocalic clusters may be simplified by deleting one of the consonants, e.g. /letrik/ ‘electricity (< electric)’, while initial two-member clusters may be simplified by the optional insertion of an epenthetic vowel, e.g. /bulu ~ blu/ ‘blue’. Sometimes, consonant cluster simplification may not involve a reduction in the number of consonants involved but involve instead assimilation of one consonant to another, e.g. /fraimpan/ ‘frying pan’. Despite the general tendency for the simplification of consonant clusters in Bislama, a substantial number of relatively complex consonant sequences are retained, e.g. /faktri/ ‘factory’, /distrik/ ‘district’. Many of the kinds of consonant clusters that are retained directly reflect permissible sequences in English. Thus, just as we encounter three-member word-initial sequences of /str-/ in English but no instances of /stl-/, so too do we find words in Bislama such as /strap/ ‘belt (< strap)’ but no instances of Bislama words beginning with /stl-/. It should be pointed out that statements about phonotactic changes between English and Bislama do not invariably involve either retention of original clusters or the simplification of original clusters. There is plentiful evidence also for the development of new clusters in Bislama from English-derived forms where there were no clusters to begin with. We therefore find instances of vowel loss between English and Bislama which result in consonant clusters such as /wokbaut/ ‘walk (about)’. In some cases, we find competing forms involving the presence or absence of a vowel between consonants, e.g. /sidaun ~ staun/ ‘sit (down)’, /sigaret ~ skaret/ ‘cigarette’, /basikel ~ baskel/ ‘bike (< bicycle)’, /finisim ~ finsim/ ‘finish’.

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Apart from these observations about consonant clusters, Bislama phonotactics is for the most part covered by the same kinds of observations that hold for English. There are, of course, subcomponents of the lexicon which do not derive from English for which other kinds of phonotactic statements can be made. In particular, those words which have local vernacular sources are based by and large on syllable structures of the type CV(C), which allows for word-initial single consonants, word-final single consonants or vowels, and two-member medial clusters, in words such as /nakatambol/ ‘dragon plum’.

6.

Phonological processes

There are very few general morphophonemic processes in Bislama. One of the characteristic features of pidgin and creole languages is the tendency to avoid derivational complexity in phonology and morphology. However, attention is drawn to variation in the form of the transitive suffix canonically represented as /-Vm/. The functions of this suffix will be dealt with in the chapter on Bislama morphosyntax (see Crowley, other volume), and I will concentrate here only on the forms of the suffix. With verbs ending in consonants preceded by either a diphthong or by a nonhigh single vowel, the transitive suffix appears as /-em/, e.g. /tan-em/ ‘turn’, /bonem/ ‘burn’, /let-em/ ‘permit, let’, /boil-em/ ‘boil’, /fain-em/ ‘find’. Following a consonant-final root preceded by a high vowel, the vowel of the suffix harmonizes with the final vowel of the root, e.g. /kil-im/ ‘kill’, /pul-um/ ‘pull’. With vowel-final roots, the transitive suffix appears as /-m/ after front vowels, e.g. /ciki-m/ ‘be cheeky to’, /pe-m/ ‘pay’, as /-em/ after /o/, e.g. /boro-em/ ‘borrow’, as /-im/ after /u/, e.g. /blu-im/ ‘blow’ and as /-rem/ after /a/, e.g. /hama-rem/ ‘hammer’.

7.

Prosodic features and intonation patterns

Stress in Bislama is not predictable. Although this means that stress is phonemically contrastive, I am not aware of any pair of lexical items which differ in meaning solely by the position of stress. However, there are words in Bislama in which stress appears on the initial syllable in words of very similar phonotactic shape, e.g. /nákamal/ ‘meeting house’, /kálabus/ ‘prison’, /píkinini/ ‘child’, the second syllable, e.g. /novémba/ ‘November’, /nabáNga/ ‘banyan’, the third syllable, e.g. /demonstrésen/ ‘demonstration’, /nakatámbol/ ‘dragon plum’, and even words in which stress appears on the final syllable, e.g. /lakaskát/ ‘waterfall’. It probably makes more sense to subdivide the vocabulary of Bislama into its etymological source languages, treating English, French and Melanesian etyma separately. Words originating from local vernaculars behave overwhelmingly ac-

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cording to the pattern that we find in Oceanic languages whereby stress is systematically applied to the penultimate syllable. This would therefore account for the position of stress in words such as /nabáNga/ ‘banyan’ and /nakatámbol/ ‘dragon plum’ presented above. Following widespread vernacular patterns, a diphthong in a final closed syllable is also stressed in Bislama, e.g. /namaláus/ ‘Garuga floribunda’. Where two syllables have been historically reduplicated, the second element does not count for syllable-counting purposes, meaning that stress is found on the penultimate syllable of the unreduplicated root, e.g. /napíripiri/ ‘sea hearse tree’, /nadúledule/ ‘red silkwood’. However, the generalizations just presented represent strong tendencies in Bislama rather than exceptionless rules, and some forms of vernacular origin exhibit stress patterns which vary from these. In some cases, we find that the initial syllable is stressed, e.g. /námarai/ ‘eel’, /nákamal/ ‘meeting house’, while in other cases the second syllable is stressed, e.g. /namáriu/ ‘acacia tree’. These irregularities are unlikely to derive from divergent patterns in the substrate language, so there seems to have been a genuine unpredictable shift of stress in these cases. Forms of French origin are often found with stress on the final syllable, which is what we would expect given the ultimate-syllable stress pattern of the source language. Thus: /glasóN/ ‘ice block’, /restoróN/ ‘restaurant’, /limonát/ ‘soft drink (< limonade)’, /maratóN/ ‘running shoes (< marathon)’. However, final stress in words of French origin is again not universal, and we do find forms in which stress has shifted, e.g. /kálsoN/ ‘(men’s) underpants’, /pétoN/ ‘French bowls (< pétanque)’, /bóndi/ ‘criminal (< bandit)’. Finally, we have the English-derived bulk of the lexicon. Unlike French and the Melanesian languages, stress is not predictable in English, and this unpredictability is mirrored in words of English origin in Bislama. For the most part, the position of stress in Bislama can be deduced from the position of stress in English, e.g. /pálamen/ ‘parliament’, /haibískis/ ‘hibiscus’, /demonstrésen/ ‘demonstration’. One feature of Bislama that is immediately obvious to even a new learner of the language is its intonation pattern. Not only is the primary intonation pattern of Bislama clearly different from that of English and the various vernacular languages, but it is also quite distinct from what we find in mutually intelligible Solomons Pijin and Papua New Guinea Tok Pisin. In talking about Bislama intonation, it is difficult (for the present writer at least) to go beyond vague impressions, but there does seem to be a substantially greater rise towards the end of a statement, followed by a much more noticeable drop immediately afterwards at the end of the statement than we find in any of the other languages (or varieties of Melanesian Pidgin) to which I have just referred. This gives the impression that Bislama has something of a “sing-song” intonation. My only suggestion for a possible source for this intonation is that it may reflect a French source, though this is little more than an impression which would need to be verified by checking against a detailed empirical comparison of the intonation patterns of both languages.

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The amount of descriptive material relating to Bislama has increased substantially since the 1970s, and we now have a fairly comprehensive published dictionary (Crowley 1995), as well as quite detailed discussions of particular aspects of the grammar, but there is still no publicly available grammar of the language. Matters of phonology have typically also been covered briefly (or not at all) in published material relating to Bislama. As far as I know, this chapter contains the only published statement of any kind relating to stress in Bislama, brief as this may be. There has also been no acoustic verification of the set of phonemic contrasts postulated for Bislama, and this chapter has – albeit somewhat tentatively – presented a number of specific suggestions regarding areas that might be worthy of investigation. Finally, of course, there is a real need to follow up the suggestion in the preceding paragraph regarding the need for a comparative study of Bislama intonation patterns. *

Many thanks to John Lynch for comments to an earlier version of this paper. Final responsibility for all claims, however, remains with the author.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Baker, Philip 1993 Australian influence on Melanesian Pidgin English. Te Reo 36: 3–67. Clark, Ross 1979–1980 In search of Beach-la-mar: towards a history of Pacific pidgin English. Te Reo 22/23: 3–63. Crowley, Terry 1989 Referential and expressive expansion in Bislama. English World-Wide 16: 85–118. 1990 Beach-la-mar to Bislama: The Emergence of a National Language in Vanuatu. (Oxford Studies in Language Contact.) Oxford: Clarendon. 1995 A New Bislama Dictionary. Suva: Institute of Pacific Studies and Pacific Languages Unit, University of the South Pacific. 2000 The language situation in Vanuatu. Current Issues in Language Planning 1: 47–132. Lynch, John and Terry Crowley 2001 Languages of Vanuatu: A New Survey and Bibliography. Canberra: Pacific Linguistics.

Solomon Islands Pijin: phonetics and phonology* Christine Jourdan and Rachel Selbach

1.

Sociohistorical background

1.1.

A brief history of Solomon Islands Pijin

Solomon Islands Pijin is one of the three Melanesian pidgins (along with Tok Pisin spoken in Papua New Guinea, and Bislama spoken in Vanuatu) that are, more or less directly, the offshoots of the Pacific trade jargon of the early 19th century, known as Beach-la-Mar (Clark 1979; Keesing 1988). This early jargon is probably based on a pidgin that developed in Australia between the British settlers in New South Wales and the aboriginal population at the end of the 18th century (Troy 1985; Baker 1993). It further expanded and stabilized during the plantation period of the second part of the 19th century that linked the Melanesian archipelagos of Vanuatu and the Solomons to Australia. The labour trade to Queensland lasted for roughly 40 years, from 1863 to 1906. At the beginning of the trade period, the Australian planters started to recruit in New Caledonia, the New Hebrides, the Melanesian archipelago closest to Australia; when recruiting in the southern islands became difficult, they moved north towards the Banks Islands, the Santa Cruz archipelago and later, around 1874, toward the Solomon Islands. Around 13,000 Solomon Islanders were taken to Queensland during the forty-year period. The pidgin language (called Kanaka Pidgin English) that was used on the plantations became the lingua franca spoken among Melanesian workers (the Kanakas, as they were called) who did not share the same language, and between Melanesians and European overseers. When Solomon Islanders went back to the Solomons at the end of their contract, or when they were forcefully repatriated at the end of the labour trade period (1904), they brought Melanesian pidgin to the Solomon Islands. The result was that the pidgin became quite spread-out throughout the eastern part of the archipelago, but, not having a social raison d’être, it remained largely unused, except for affect. Back in the 1980s, old people could still remember the stories that were told by the old former Queensland hands many years after their return. Following the annexation of the Solomon Islands by the British (1893), the pidgin became the medium by which Solomon Islanders interacted with British colonial officers and with other Solomon Islanders from different ethnic groups. Some employees of the early colonial administration, such as the constabulary, were recruited among pidgin speakers because their knowledge of the language meant that they had had previous contact with Europeans.

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One of the first outcomes of the Pax Britannica in the Solomon Islands (1920) had been the expansion of a small local plantation economy that had appeared as early as 1910. The plantations required many labourers, and they were recruited from different islands. Solomon Islanders began to migrate within the archipelago, between the areas supplying the labour force (typically Malaita island) and the plantation areas (Guadalcanal and Russell islands). Not surprisingly, the first labourers to be recruited to work on the Solomon Islands plantations were men who had been to Queensland before and who knew pidgin. Thus, the Kanaka Pidgin English of Queensland was reactivated on a larger scale by people building on their previous knowledge of it. In those days, young men did not learn to speak that language until they went to work on the plantations. Over the years, circular migration allowed one or two generations of young men to be in contact with the pidgin, particularly in work-related activities. As a result, the pool of pidgin speakers progressively enlarged, and the language proved so successful as a lingua franca that it expanded very quickly within the population. On plantations, workers and overseers alike learnt the pidgin by listening to other people talk; workers learnt it from their fellow workers. The unspoken sociolinguistic rule was that people spoke their vernacular language with people belonging to their language group and used the pidgin with everybody else, the overseers included. Some oldtimers acted as interpreters for the newcomers (niusam). Progressively the pidgin acquired local characteristics (phonetic and lexical particularly) and speakers came to refer to it as Pisin. It is now called Pijin and referred to as such hereafter. Another important event in the history of Pijin is World War II and the presence of the American army in the archipelago in 1942. Even though most plantation labourers were repatriated during that time, many Solomon Islands men (around 2,000) were enrolled in the Solomon Islands Labour Corps and in the British Solomon Islands Protectorate Defence Force, in which 680 Islanders enlisted (Laracy 1983). Solomon Islanders who witnessed that period say that they spoke to the American soldiers in pidgin and sometimes in English when it was known to them. Many of the American soldiers had some very rudimentary knowledge of the Pidgin English spoken then in New Guinea. This pidgin, now called Tok Pisin, then called Melanesian pidgin, was one of the forty Pacific languages that the American army deemed potentially useful to their soldiers fighting in the Pacific. They taught it to the troops through the medium of a small handbook that had some phrases in Tok Pisin. Even though it is difficult to assess the degree of the transformation that Pijin underwent during that period, it is obvious that the more intensive the contact with English, the more the presence of English was going to be felt in Solomons Pijin. It is during the time of Maasina Rulu ‘the rule of brotherhood’ (maasina ‘brotherhood’ *Are*Are, a language spoken in Papua New Guinea, and rulu ‘rule’ English), the politico-religious movement that swept the island of Malaita after World War II (1944−1952) that Pijin became a political tool. The lingua franca became

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crucial to the movement very early on, as it was the only language that could be understood by all ethnic groups alike. It is through Pijin that the political ideology of the movement was disseminated in the Protectorate. Pijin assisted in the communication of the ideas of Maasina Rule (Bennett 1979), but also in forging the unity of the movement: linguistic barriers were broken down, and the notion of group identity gradually incorporated the wider notion of brotherhood. Through Pijin, the movement mobilized the Malaitan population and spread through traditional exchange networks, through mission links and through very large political meetings where people from different language groups came together. 1.2.

Contemporary Pijin

Solomon Islands Pijin is now spoken throughout the Solomons archipelago. It is, by far, the primary lingua franca of the island group, superseding missionary lingua francas. In view of its social history, Pijin from the start was used predominantly by adult males, most women and children simply having no access to it. It is still quite common nowadays to come across mature women in remote areas of the Solomon Islands who do not know Pijin at all. People, and women in particular, who were not incorporated into the traditional settings or contexts of Pijin usage and transmission (plantations, mission stations or schooling) had never had any need for Pijin, and/or any opportunities or incentive to learn it. The situation is being modified nowadays with increasing urbanization, widespread primary schooling, encroachment of a cash economy everywhere in the country, and growing transport links that make it possible for people to move back and forth between the villages and Honiara, the main Pijin-speaking area of the country. All these activities provide all members of the society, and not only men as had been the case before, with opportunities (and sometimes money) for travel within the island group. With increasing mobility, people of different linguistic traditions come in contact in a way and on a scale that differs drastically from traditional inter-group and/or inter-islands contacts. This has opened the way for Pijin to establish itself as the main language of the country. 1.3.

Sociolinguistic situation of contemporary Pijin

Since the 1960s, Pijin has become the main language of the capital city of Honiara and the mother tongue of many young urban adults and of a new generation of young urban children who know no other language but Pijin. Pijin is not only the medium of communication of urban life, it is the medium of a type of culture that is different in many respects from the cultural world of the plantations and villages. In Honiara, the strong position of Pijin is reinforced by the very high degree of language diversity we find in town (most of the 64 vernaculars of the country are represented in Honiara). People migrating to town had to learn Pijin quickly if

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they wanted to create a social life for themselves outside of the limits of the wantok system (wantok ‘friend’). Due to the high number of inter-ethnic marriages in town, Pijin progressively found its way within the family circle, whereas it used to be used almost exclusively with non-family members, and particularly, with non-wantok people. The contexts of Pijin usage in town are far more diverse than they were when the language served as a plantation pidgin: Pijin is used for church services and church-related activities, in the public service, on the radio, in political circles and in parliament, in family life and other domains of urban social life. Over the years, Pijin has acquired some cultural depth that is expressed lexically through the borrowing of new words from English (e.g. kompiuta ‘computer’) or through expansion of the lexicon from Pijin roots (e.g. masta liu ‘unemployed’ masta ‘master’ + liu ‘hang around’). The opposite result is that the lexicon, and the phonology, are changing quickly. A sociolinguistic norm essentially based on urban Pijin is appearing and is becoming the measure by which young urban people evaluate Pijin competence in others: they are quick to denigrate and make fun of non-urban ways of speaking the language, and to associate ‘old’ words with provincial ways of speaking and with lack of social sophistication. In the process, old words such as panikini ‘cup’, furumbutu ‘step on’, gras ‘hair’ are progressively being lost from the vocabulary of young urban people and are replaced by kap ‘cup’, stepem ‘step on’ and hea ‘hair’. This meets with much resistance from provincial and older speakers, who are quick to qualify urban Pijin as rabis (‘bad’) and overly anglicized. In the provincial areas of the country, people tend to have access to Pijin at a much earlier age and in wider contexts of communication than before. Despite not having the official status of a national language, Pijin has become the true national language of the Solomon Islands, the only linguistic mortar that has the potential of binding this new country together. Papua New Guinea and Vanuatu have recognized the major roles played by Tok Pisin and Bislama respectively in these countries by giving them national language status. One hopes that the Solomon Islands will soon do the same for Pijin. But although Pijin is widely spoken, it is not widely written. Despite the efforts made by the Literacy Association of the Solomon Islands (LASI) and the Solomon Islands Christian Association (SICA) through the works of Solomon Islands Translation Advisory Group (SITAG), the language is not a popular medium of written communication. There are many reasons for this situation: Pijin lacks institutional support from government agencies, and it lacks cultural legitimacy. In addition, schooling at advanced levels is done in English, the official language of the country, and this puts pressure on the children to learn English at an early age. Over the years, new tools such as word lists (Beimer 1995) and dictionaries (Simons and Young 1978; Jourdan 2002) have been produced. No comprehensive grammar is publicly available yet. Along with the lack of official legitimacy of the language comes a lack of a bona fide standard variety of Pijin. Variation therefore can and does flourish, both

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within and across sociolinguistic boundaries. This poses some difficulties for the unitary description of Pijin, including the level of phonology and phonetics. We have attempted to provide a conservative description of the phoneme inventory of Pijin below, followed by an introduction to the range and types of variation that may be displayed by different speakers. It should be kept in mind that even such basic description will be unavoidably tinged by analysis, and that what we provide here is a preliminary sketch of a complex situation.

2.

Phoneme inventory

Solomon Islands Pijin has a basic phoneme inventory that accommodates the sounds of the lexifier language English, but is simpler than that of English in having fewer phonemes. This also makes the phonology of Solomon Islands Pijin more like that of the substrate languages (all except for eight of the languages spoken on the Solomon Islands are Austronesian languages) whose presence in the archipelago antedates that of English and of Pijin, and on which the sound system can be said to be mapped. Very clear influence from the various Austronesian vernaculars is found in the phonetics of Pijin, where there is a great deal of both regional and idiolectal variation that can often be linked to the speakers’ prior or other linguistic knowledge. There is also phonetic influence from English that is becoming apparent in some speakers of Taon Pijin (Pijin spoken in Honiara). We first describe the basic phoneme inventory, noting that it eschews uniform, unambiguous description. We then discuss further the range and type of variation that is actually found in the pronunciation of Pijin. Orthographic form

Phonological form

English source

FIT

/fit/ /dres/ /map/ /hot/ /nat/ /put/ /pas/ /kof/ /nes/ /pis/ /fes/ /pam/ /dota/

fit dress map hot nut put pass cough nurse piece face palm (tree) daughter

DRES MAP HOT NAT PUT PAS KOF NES PIS FES PAM DOTA

Solomon Islands Pijin: phonetics and phonology

/nanigot/ /lus/ /prais/ /soisol/ /maut/ /bia/ /skwea/ /stat/ /not/ /fos/ /kyurem/ /hapi/ /leta/ /masis/ /koma/

NANIGOT LUS PRAES CHOISEUL MAOT BIA SKWEA STAT NOT FOS KIUREM HAPI LETA MASIS KOMMA

2.1. High Mid Low

695

goat loose price Choiseul (Island) mouth beer square start north force cure happy letter matches comma

Vowels Front i e

Central

Back u o

a

The phonetic realizations of the vowels depend on whether they occur in open or closed syllables. Vowels may be laxed and slightly lowered in closed syllables, such that /e/ will be realized as [] and /o/ as [ç] in such environments; cf. [dr
s] ‘dress’ and [hçt] ‘hot’. Many speakers also make a phonetic distinction between long and short vowels, such as between the short [a] of puskat ‘cat’ and the long [a˘] of baa ‘bar’, and between the [u] of tufala ‘two’ and the [u˘] of tuu ‘also’. Vowel length and syllable structure will be discussed in section 4 below. Finally, there are speakers who use more than the three main diphthongs [ae], [ao] and [oe]. In these more anglicized varieties, they will thus also make a distinction between [ao] and [au], in such pairs as haos [haos] ‘house’ and maut [maut] ‘mouth’. Other speakers use tense [ai] rather than [ae], distinguishing between the diphthongs in baitim [baitim] ‘bite’, and bae [bae] (future/Tense-Mood-Aspect [TMA] marker). Some examples of the vowels are given in the following set of Pijin words: /a/ /e/

mama save

‘mother’ ‘know’

/ae/ /ao/

faet taon

‘fight’ ‘town’

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/i/ /o/ /u/ 2.1.

pikinini orens sukul

‘child’ ‘orange’ ‘school’

/oe/ /au/ /ai/

boe maut baitim

‘boy’ ‘mouth’ ‘bite’

Consonants

Stops Fricatives Affricate Nasals

Labial p b f v

Alveolar t d s

Palatal

Velar k g h

č m

Approximants Lateral Central Tap



n

l y

w

(

In general, Pijin consonants are rather similar to the corresponding consonants of English, except that English /r/ is typically replaced by an alveolar flap /(/. A more thorough comparison of Pijin words and their English cognates follows in section 5 below. There is a good deal of variation across individual speakers’ phoneme inventories, and as a result the decisions on inclusion and exclusion of phonemes in the above inventory are to some degree arbitrary. Not all speakers make use of the same set of distinctive features in their phoneme inventories, so that certain consonants will be conflated along different lines for different speakers. The voicing distinction is not always clear-cut, but both voiced and voiceless stops are included in the inventory as proposed above. For the alveolar fricative and the palatal affricate, however, we do not consider this distinction to be a phonemic one for most speakers. In reality, [č] alternates with [j7], which in turn alternate with [dy] and [d] in speakers who do not have palatal affricates. The palatal affricate may also be replaced with a fricative. The place of articulation of the fricative varies between alveolar [s] and palatal []. č ~ j7 ~ dy ~ d č ~ j7 ~ s ~  [ j7] and [ ] are not included in the inventory above, but are here considered phonetic variants of /č/ and /s/ respectively. Similarly, we will subsume [z] and [] under the voiceless /s/ as free variants, though clearly, some speakers apply a voicing distinction here. Slight feature differences in voicing, manner and place of

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articulation may therefore alter the individual speakers’ distribution of sounds in their phonemic and phonetic systems. Other salient variants in the system proposed here resulting from such minimal differences occur with speakers who replace [p] with [f], or others who replace [f] with [p]. Also, voiced stops are often prenasalized, a feature that is also present in the vernaculars. Consonants /b/, /d/, /g/ are then realized as [mb], [nd], and []. In some cases, written forms include the homorganic nasal, but in others, they do not, the spellings selectively reflecting the variation, e.g. sindaon or sidaon ‘sit down’ and babu or bambu ‘bamboo’. The influence of the vernaculars on these variants will be sketched below; see also Table 1 for examples of frequently heard alternate pronunciations.

3.

Analysis of variation

Pijin phonetics and phonology are highly variable and change from region to region. Three predominant factors create this variability: 1. the presence of vernaculars; 2. the presence of English; and 3. urbanization. 3.1.

The vernaculars

Vernacular refers to the languages that were present in the Solomon Islands before the arrival of the Europeans. Vernacular languages continue to be spoken in rural areas as well as in the capital Honiara, there often as a first but not as a main language. They were thus present before, during and after the formation of Pijin, and their influence on the new language continues to be felt. The pronunciation of Pijin is remarkable in that it resembles very much the pronunciation of these vernacular languages. This indicates that speakers tend to apply to Pijin the phonological rules that govern their own vernaculars. While keeping to vernacular sound patterns, lexemes derived from English must be reshaped in order to be accommodated, often in different ways by speakers of different vernaculars. This pattern explains in part the differences that exist between speakers, according to their islands of origin, or according to the vernacular they speak. The variable influence of the vernaculars takes at least three different forms: a. phonological substitution; b. insertion of epenthetic vowels; c. addition of final vowels

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3.1.1. Phonological substitutions As not all the languages of the Solomon Islands have all the consonantal phonemes of ‘standard’ Pijin as it is coming to be codified, they will characteristically replace some Pijin consonants with the closest equivalents available in their vernaculars. They contrast, where possible, with the more canonical ones in no more than a single distinctive feature. Below are some examples of frequent substitutions. (1)

voiced consonants > devoiced consonants /b/ > /g/ > e.g. big

(2)

(4)

[pik]

‘big’

fricatives > stops; stops > fricatives /f/ > [p] (e.g. speakers of Tolo) e.g. finis > [pinis] ‘finish’; TMA marker sif > [sip] ‘chief’ tufala > [tupala] ‘two’ /p/ > e.g. Pijin

(3)

[p] [k] >

[f] >

(e.g. speakers of Kwaio) [fisin] ‘Pijin’

(palatal) affricate > a. alveolar fricative /č/ > [s] e.g. jej > jifkuk >

[ses] [sifkuk]

‘church’ ‘chef’

b. alveolar stop /č/ > [d] e.g. Japan > jes >

[dyapan] [des]

‘Japan’ ‘just’

voiced stops > nasalized voiced stops /b/ > [mb] /g/ > [] e.g. tabu > [tambu] sigaret > [siaret]

‘taboo’ ‘cigarette’

For example, if one’s mother tongue includes /p/ and not /f/, as in Tolo (an Austronesian language spoken on the island of Guadalcanal), the Pijin spoken by Tolo speakers will likely use [p] whenever [f] is standard. Children growing up in town and using Pijin as their main language, and sometimes as their mother tongue, will tend not to make this substitution, as their phoneme inventory will be likely to include both sounds.

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Table 1 provides more examples of the possible substitutions most likely to take place motivated by the phonological system of the speaker’s vernacular. Table 1.

Sound variations due to the vernaculars

Substitution

Pijin

English gloss

/b/ /b/ /b/ /d/ /d/ /f/ /f/ /g/

[p] [v] [mb] [t] [nd] [b] [p] [k]

blong kabis baebae nogud oda fis wanfala pig

[plong] [kavis] [baembae] [nogut] [onda] [bis] [wanpala] [pik]

belong edible greens shall, will bad order fish one, a, an pig

/g/ /j/ /j/ /l/ /p/ /p/ /r/ /r/ /v/ /v/ /v/

[] [s] [di] [r] [b] [f] [l] [d] [f] [b] [w]

sigaret jamp jamp liu pensol pijin riva rabis riva muv hevinat

[sia(et] [samp] [diamp] [riu] [bensol] [fisin] [liva] [dabis] [rifa] [mub] [hewinat]

cigarette jump jump to wander aimlessly pencil pidgin river rubbish river move sago palm and nut

/w/

[w]

wesis

[wesis]

wages

3.1.2. Epenthesis In addition, as consonant clusters do not occur in most of the languages of the Solomon Islands, speakers will tend to insert epenthetic vowels in Pijin words in order to avoid such clusters. The choice of the vowel is directed by rules of vowel harmony. skul olketa spun trae bisnis klaem

> > > > > >

[sukul] [oloketa] [supun] [tarae] [bisinis] [kalaem]

‘school’ ‘they’; plural marker ‘spoon’ ‘try’ ‘business’ ‘climb’

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In town, and under the influence of English, this epenthetic vowel, more typical of rural Pijin, tends to disappear from the speech of many speakers, young ones especially. 3.1.3. Paragogue Just as vernaculars permit fewer consonant clusters, very seldom do they have words ending with consonants. And just as epenthesis can break up unwanted consonant clusters, paragogue is used in avoidance of word-final consonants. Most rural speakers, and older speakers for whom vernaculars are the overwhelming medium of communication will tend to add a final vowel to Pijin words derived from English words ending in a consonant, again according to the same principle of vowel harmony. Hence, several of the words listed above may be further expanded as follows, in order to arrive at preferred CV(CV) syllable structures: sukul supun bisinis kabis

> > > >

[sukulu] [supuni] [bisinisi] [kabisi]

‘leafy greens’

In sum, it should be stressed that (a) there are regional differences in the phonology of Pijin and that (b) even in the capital city Honiara, there is no uniform, homogenized variety. However, as explained in the introduction, sociolinguistic norms are developing. People can often tell where someone comes from by their accent; age, education and other sociolinguistic variables play an important role in determining how people will speak. 3.2.

English

Another cause of variation in Pijin is the speakers’ contact with English, made particularly important through schooling carried out in that language. Since the majority of the Pijin lexicon is essentially derived from English, one’s knowledge of English can more easily influence one’s Pijin. Pijin /t/ or /d/ will then become []; /s/ will become [č]. This pattern is more predominant in town than in the villages, according to the different roles that English plays in these two areas. Under the guise of hypercorrection, Anglicization as a social marker is also present in the speech of some speakers, exemplified by an overuse of [č], [] etc. Below are examples of the adoption of non-Pijin phonemes (into long-established core Pijin lexemes): brata diswan vilis

> > >

[braa] [iswan] [vilič]

‘brother’ ‘this’ ‘village’

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> >

[čoč] [čusim]

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‘church’ ‘choose’

Similarly to the continued effects of the local vernaculars on Pijin, the creole is therefore in a special situation regarding Anglicization. The recent phonological effects of English are superimposed on the Pijin system, which, while accommodating English-derived lexemes, is strongly influenced by Austronesian phonemic systems. 3.3.

Urbanization

Among most rural speakers and many older urban speakers, the phonetic interferences from the vernaculars are obvious. In the urban Pijin of the younger generation, particularly of the children, these variations tend to be neutralized. This phenomenon is associated with the children’s loss of contact with vernaculars. It seems obvious from research that the less the children are exposed to vernaculars and their phonology, the less their Pijin retains the phonological features of these languages. The phonetic system is regularized, often moving it away from that of the vernacular, and for some speakers, clearly in the direction of English. The epenthetic vowels are disappearing, along with some etymological ones; the result is that consonant clusters are more common in urban Pijin than they are in rural Pijin (although here, too, many ensuing clusters are rapidly eliminated by further reduction). Paragogic and other final vowels are also disappearing. This leads to the overall effects of regularization and, inevitably, shortening. For example: [*olketa] [*mifala] [sa*pos]

> > > > [bi*kos] > [*wanfala] > [bi*long] > [baem*bae] >

[*oketa] [*mifaa] [*spos] [sa*os] [bi*os] [*wanfaa] [*blong] [ba*bae]

> > > > > > > >

[*okta] > [*ota] > [*ot] ‘they’; plural marker [*mifa] > [*mia] ‘we’ [*pos] ‘if’ [*sos] [*bis] ‘because’ [*wafa] ‘one’ [*blo] ‘of’ [*bae] TMA marker

Notice that the words most prone to such reduction are pronouns, conjunctions, prepositions and other grammatical markers. Function words are, perhaps in part due to their high frequency and their unstressed position in the sentence, most prone to be affected by the tendency to shorten and reduce phonological material.

4.

Phonotactics

As described in section 3.1., Solomons Pijin, like other Austronesian languages, generally disfavors most consonant clusters. When English cognate forms from

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which the Pijin word is derived have such unwanted clusters, Pijin can resolve the conflict in one of three ways: by epenthesis, paragogue, or elision. Epenthesis and paragogue have been discussed in 3.1.2. and 3.1.3. A final strategy open for dissolution of clusters is elision, specifically apocope. Pijin has used this strategy as well in order to derive canonical Pijin words from English source lexemes, as in suam ‘swamp’, kol ‘cold’, and klos ‘closed’. Presumably, all these strategies are guided by the aim to achieve a more optimal syllable structure. The constraints imposed by various vernacular languages certainly play a role in determining the shape of the Pijin form, as do for example principles of sonority hierarchies. Systematic study is needed in order to pinpoint more precisely what rules which speakers use. In general, it can be said that the preferred syllable structure for Pijin lexical words is CV(CV). In monosyllabic words, there is a requirement for the syllable to be heavy, which means that the syllable must either be closed (CVC, e.g. kam) or that the vowel is a long one (CVV, e.g. baa, kaa, saa, tuu). In the first cases, the vowel could alternatively be described as being the result of compensatory lengthening for an etymological final-r deletion; however, this is not true for words like tuu. Minimal word weight requirements therefore account for why long vowels are found primarily in monosyllabic words. The trochee is the preferred foot structure, but again, as seen in several of the examples of reduction above, successive stages of reduction produce new sequences that may not conform to this pattern. Such forms may be more or less stable, but are all present in the speech of urbanites. Hence, changes in phonotactics through reduction and Anglicization are also occurring. In the urban center, the effects of the loss of vernaculars and the influence of English are compounded. Further, as it is a locus for new settings of standards, speakers are learning and creating new systems of consensus. Very few rules in Pijin are not open to negotiation, and most are tendencies rather than absolutes. The most general rule is that in the process of reduction, the stressed parts of the source word are retained longest. Phonological reduction can also have consequences for other parts of the grammar, and an interplay between phonology and syntax and semantics can then be observed. For instance, heavy reduction may allow different forms of the word to precipitate, which in turn are available to take on new meanings. Functions that were formerly taken on by the same word can now be distributed across separate words. For instance, the gradual reduction of olketa (the third person plural pronoun ‘they’, and also the nominal plural marker) has produced a range of phonological forms, from oloketa to ot. The short form ota now is used mostly as a plural marker, while the longest forms such as olketa are reserved for expressing third person plural pronoun in object position (cf. Selbach 2000). The range of phonological variation permissible and usual in Pijin thus appears to make generous room for grammaticalization to occur.

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Historical derivation from English: comparison to source language

In the preceding section, we showed how final consonant deletion and vowel lengthening are processes employed for attaining more optimal Pijin syllable structure. The examples of suam and baa so derived by constraints on Pijin syllable structure are standard Pijin forms and do not illustrate synchronic dialectal or idiolectal variation, such as that exemplified in Table 1. Given the amount of variation so characteristic of Solomons Pijin, it is nevertheless often quite difficult or impossible to assess which rules are active phonological processes and which ones represent historical change, which are due to Anglicization or the ongoing influence of the vernaculars. In section 5.1., we focus on the historical relationship of Pijin and English. We provide a comparison of the creole and its lexifier and sketch the rules historically deriving Pijin lexemes from English lexemes. The following sections 5.1 and 5.2 owe a great deal to a 1998 manuscript by Marc Picard, The Naturalization of English loandwords in Pijin. We are extremely grateful for his generosity in liberally sharing it with us. 5.1.

Vowels

The vowels of the various English dialects which supplied the lexical material to Pijin were reduced to a basic 5-cardinal-vowel system. Without study of the precise dialects of English that played a decisive role in the formation of Pijin, it is not possible to provide more than a few of the basic brushstrokes that determined adaptations to Solomon Islands Pijin phonology. The table of vowels below (Table 2) is meant as such a broad indication of some of the mergers and correspondences. Bold face vowels are those of both Pijin and English; this means that the normal font vowels had to merge with the bold face ones. These correspondences are set out below. Table 2. Vowels of English and Pijin Front High

i

Semi-high



Mid

e

Central

u

o ç

Mid-low Low

Back

æ

a

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5.1.1. Raising of front and back vowels For front and back vowels, the problem was solved by raising: Front and back semi-high vowels merged with their mid-high counterparts: English  >  >

u i

Pijin

[kk] [kuki] ‘cook’ [aksdent] [aksiden] ‘accident’

Mid-low vowels merged with their mid-high counterparts: ç


> >

o e

[pç] [´gEn]

[popo] [agen]

‘paw’ ‘again’

5.1.2. Fronting, backing, lowering of central vowels The central vowels [ ] and [√] merge with [e], [o] or [a] by fronting, backing or lowering. This is partly determined by context: Fronting to [e] (a context-free change, but applies especially to long and syllablefinal central vowels): [profet] [meResin] [deleet]

‘prophet’ ‘medicine’ ‘delegate’

Backing to [o] before [l] (a context-sensitive change: [ l] > [ol]): [pensol] [handol] [pipol]

‘pencil’ ‘handle’ ‘people’

Lowering to [a] before etymological [r] (often context-sensitive: [er] > [a]): [aftanun] [namba] [taepraeta]

‘afternoon’ ‘number’ ‘typewriter’

While backing before [l] and lowering before [r] is largely predictable, some contexts are not. For instance, there are several changes possible before [n]: [neson] [leman] [poesen], [poisin]

‘nation’ ‘lemon’ ‘poison’

The remaining short vowels become low central.

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5.1.3. Processes affecting long mid vowels and diphthongs Long mid vowels and diphthongs ([ey], [e˘], [ou], [o˘]) of English were reduced to [e], [o], while other diphthongs are retained [e˘], [ey] [pe] [ples] [fevarit] [seksek]

‘pay’ ‘place’ ‘favourite’ ‘shiver’, ‘shake’

[o˘], [ou] [kol] [holem]

‘cold’ ‘hold’

[ao], [oe], [ae] remain unchanged: [kaontem] [boe] [karae] 5.2.

‘count’ ‘boy’ ‘cry’

Consonants

Pijin mostly retains the consonants of the English source, but again, those consonants not found in Pijin merged with similar ones. As described in section 2.2., there is much variation in how the sounds of English were reanalyzed as phonemes of Pijin, and there is much variation across individual speaker’s consonantal inventories. Generally, the choices made for distributing the consonants missing from the Pijin inventory across the new system were the following: 5.2.1. Dental fricatives became stops a) Voiceless dental fricative becomes voiceless apical stop ([] > [t]): [tanda] [tosde] [trifala] [tintin]

‘thunder’ ‘Thursday’ ‘three’ ‘think’

b) Voiced dental fricative becomes voiced apical stop ([] > [d]) [disfala] [wedekos]

‘this’ ‘Weather Coast’

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5.2.2. Changes affecting affricates and palatals: Voiceless affricates (often) became fricatives: [sest] ‘chest’ Voiced affricates (often) became stops: [des] ‘just’ Palatals became alveolars ( > s): [susut] ‘shoot’ 5.2.3. Stop deletion As described in section 4, final stops of English were deleted following sonorant consonants (e.g. suam ‘swamp’, govamen ‘government’), and as indicated in 5.1.2. above, English syllable-final -er was generally replaced by Pijin /a/ (e.g. pepa ‘pepper’, snapa ‘snapper’).

6.

Productive morphophonological processes

Certain aspects of Pijin phonology are clearly productive, and thus not easily traced to the direct influence of the substrate or the superstrate. There are several actively productive morphophonological processes specific to Pijin, such as the vowel harmony displayed by the transitivizing suffix, and the morphophonetic rules of reduplication. 6.1.

Transitive suffix -Vm: vowel harmony

As described in the chapter on the morphology and syntax of Solomon Islands Pijin (see Jourdan, other volume), Pijin transitive verbs are marked with a suffix -Vm, variously -em, -im or -um. As with insertion of paragogic vowels, the vowel in -Vm is selected with respect to rules of vowel harmony. The specific rules of harmony can again vary from one speaker to the next. One possible system is the one illustrated below, where roots containing mid and low vowels take -em as a suffix, but roots with high vowels will take the identical high vowel in the suffix,im or -um. Verb stem vowel /a/ /e/ /o/ /i/ /u/

Suffix -em -em -em -im -um

Example katem tekem kolem hitim hukum

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Thus, while kat-, tek- and kol- become katem, tekem and kolem, /huk/ ‘to hook’ becomes /hukum/ ‘to hook something’ and /hit/ ‘to hit’ becomes /hitim/ ‘to hit someone’. However, /baet/ ‘to bite’ becomes /baetim/ for some speakers and /baetem/ for others. Further, some streamlining common in the speech of young urban Pijin speakers may shorten the -Vm to /m/. Thus ansam ‘to give an answer’ instead of ansar-em, kalam ‘to colour something’ instead of kalar-em, etc. There are more exceptions. While -em seems to function as the default suffix, im appears more likely in neologisms such as fotokopim ‘to photocopy something’ and faksim ‘to fax something’. Nevertheless, it appears that -em is always a possible realization of the transitive suffix. In this respect again, /e/ is the underspecified vowel (cf. 5.1.2.a.). While the variation in the realization of the vowel in the transitivizing suffix is quite large, vowel harmony nevertheless determines the insertion of the vowel into the suffix whose vowel is underspecified for height or frontness. The quality of the vowels added to the stem is determined by the stem. This applies for epenthesis, paragogue and suffixation of the transitive marker. 6.2.

Reduplication: morphophonemics

Pijin makes room for reduplication as a productive pattern in the morphology of (primarily) verbs, where it can function to modify meaning or mood. It is also present in the substrate languages of the Solomon Islands, such that it remains to be seen whether the morphophonemic rules also correspond to those of the vernaculars. Reduplication may involve either full or partial reduplication of the first syllable. go suim save dae faet fraet krae/karae stap ple siki bisi silip kis presim wan

‘to go’ ‘to swim’ ‘to know’ ‘to die’ ‘to fight’ ‘to be afraid’ ‘to cry’ ‘to stay’ ‘to play’ ‘to be sick’ ‘to be busy’ ‘to sleep’ ‘to kiss’ ‘to praise’ ‘one’

gogoo susuim sasave dadae fafaet fafraet kakarae sastap peple sisiki bibisi sisilip kiskis pepresim wanwan

‘after sometime’ ‘swimming’ ‘to be very knowledgeable’ ‘to pine away’ ‘to be very afraid’ ‘to cry continuously’

‘keep being sick’ ‘to be very busy’ ‘to sleep a long time’

‘one at the time’

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The basic rule for verbal reduplication is to copy the first syllable of the verb and to prefix it to the root (e.g. sasave, sisiki, kiskis). However, contrary to what is happening in Bislama (Crowley, this volume), very rarely will speakers choose to duplicate a consonant cluster if it is in initial position. Instead, when the root starts with a cluster (a pattern predominantly found in the speech of young urbanites), speakers will copy the root’s first consonant and the first vowel only (e.g. fafraet, kakarae, sastap). It appears that in Pijin the more optimal reduplicant is maximally of the pattern CV. The same pattern holds for one-syllable verb roots containing a diphthong, where only the first vowel of the diphthong is reduplicated (e.g. dadae, fafaet). Interestingly, the coda is, however, retained in some other words whose roots-initial syllable is of the CVC pattern, such as in wanwan and kiskis.

7.

Stress and intonation

In Solomons Pijin, stress follows two essential models: that of the Oceanic languages and that of English. Words derived from vernacular etyma follow the predictable stress pattern found in the Oceanic vernaculars, i.e. stress falls predominantly on the penultimate syllable as in kokósu ‘hermit crab’, múmu ‘stone oven’, kakáme ‘swamp taro’. Pijin words derived from English etyma (the bulk of Pijin vocabulary) will have the stress fall on the first syllable as in hóspitol ‘hospital’ and kámpani ‘company’, or on the penultimate syllable as in panikíni ‘cup’, elékson ‘election’, tráke ‘truck’. Three Pijin words are of Portuguese origin and entered Melanesian pidgins via the maritime jargon: sáve ‘to know’ and pikiníni ‘child’ follow the stress rule of Portuguese and are accentuated on the penultimate syllable, while kalabús ‘prison’ is stressed on the last syllable. These data indicate that word stress is lexically determined, and is retained on the original syllable of the etymon, regardless of what language the word is derived from, and regardless of where on the word the stress appears. (Note that section 3.3. also bears witness to the robustness of stress retention, in that case within Pijin itself.) Intonation and sentence stress in Pijin give important cues for interpreting meaning. Intonation plays a vital role to mark sentence structure and is very distinctive. Subtle changes in intonation can dramatically change meaning and can transform an affirmative sentence into an interrogative sentence, or a sequence of clauses into relative clauses. Except for the short analysis that Jourdan (1985) provides of the importance of intonation for sentence meaning, intonation patterns in Solomons Pijin have not been described. Perhaps increasing grammaticalization will reduce the need for intonation in conveying information and, as the language gets older and more standardized, perhaps the use of intonation will give way to grammatical markers, and the phonology will become more regular. Perhaps they will not, and individuals will continue to apply their own sets of rules to a language full of variation and possibility.

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* We wish to thank Marc Picard for the phonetic transcription that accompanies the reading passage and Kevin Tuite and Diana Apoussidou for their generous comments on earlier drafts of this article.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Baker, Philip 1993 Australian influence on Melanesian Pidgin English. Te Reo 36: 3−67. Beimer, Gerry 1995 We fo Raetem Olketa Wod Long Pijin. Honiara: Solomon Islands Christian Association. Bennett, Judith 1979 Wealth of the Solomons. Ph.D. dissertation, Australian National University, Canberra. Clark, Ross 1979 In search of Beach-La-Mar. Towards a history of Pacific Pidgin English. Te Reo 22/23: 3−66. Jourdan, Christine 1985 Sapos iumi mitim iumi: urbanization and creolization of Solomon Islands Pijin. Ph.D. dissertation, Australian National University, Canberra. 2002 Pijin Dictionary. Canberra: Pacific Linguistics. Laracy, Hugh (ed.) 1983 Pacific Protest: The Maasina Rule Movement, Solomon Islands, 1944–1952. Suva: Institute of Pacific Studies, University of the South Pacific. Selbach, Rachel 2000 Oketa in Solomon Islands Pijin: homophony or conceptual link between the third person plural and nominal plurality? Conference presentation at the Society of Pidgin and Creole Linguistics held under auspices of the Linguistic Society of America, Chicago, January 7, 2000. Simons, Linda and Hugh Young 1978 Pijin Blong Iumi: A Guide to Solomon Islands Pijin. Honiara: Solomon Islands Christian Association. Troy, Jakelin 1985 Australian Aboriginal contact with the English language in New South Wales: 1788 to 1845. B.A. Honours thesis, University of Sydney.

Tok Pisin in Papua New Guinea: phonology Geoff P. Smith

1.

Introduction

Like various types of pidginised English around the world, the variety spoken in the New Guinea area has been the object of interest for many years, usually for the wrong reasons. It has in turn evinced hostility, ridicule, amusement and more recently, serious study. Early administrators and other expatriate observers were often scathing in their contempt for what was seen merely as an improperly acquired and mangled form of English. It was much later that Prince Philip characterised it as a “splendid language” but even then he failed to conceal a somewhat patronising tone. It was not until the last few decades that the language has been taken seriously on its own terms, and although even today many negative attitudes persist, it is at last receiving some of the respect it deserves. This variety, now so widely spoken in Papua New Guinea, is “based on” English in the sense that most lexical items are ultimately derived from it, but observers will soon discover that the language is not comprehensible to English speakers without considerable instruction. It has sometimes been referred to as “Melanesian Pidgin English”, although this more accurately includes sister dialects Bislama in Vanuatu and Pijin in Solomon Islands. The name “Neo-Melanesian” enjoyed brief currency among some academics, but was never widely used. Most speakers refer to it simply as Tok Pisin (“talk pidgin”) or simply Pidgin. It is today Papua New Guinea’s largest and fastest-growing language and the de facto national language. 1.1.

The origins of Tok Pisin

As Crowley (this volume) points out, the early history of an English-based contact language in the Pacific goes back to the time of early trading activities in the newly opened-up European colonies in Australia. A New South Wales pidgin English had already come into existence as a means of communication between settlers and Aboriginal people, and some features of this were to appear in the early Pacific pidgin. Indeed, some elements, such as pikinini ‘child’ and save ‘know’ based on the Portuguese pequeño and sabir respectively, may have had a considerably longer history in maritime contact. Whaling expeditions out of Sydney probably proceeded from the late 18th century, but successive interest in sandalwood and trepang (sea slug or bêche de mer) in the mid-19th century in the south-west and central Pacific saw a great increase in commerce and communication that favoured

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the formation of a stable Pacific Pidgin English. At first, ships’ crews of mixed origin and shore-bound trading posts provided areas of contact, but later, large-scale population movements took place as Melanesian labourers were recruited to work on plantations in Queensland and the Pacific. While the origins of Tok Pisin are firmly rooted in this Pacific Pidgin English, its development is somewhat different from its sister dialects. Melanesian labourers from New Britain and mainland New Guinea entered the labour trade somewhat later than those from the New Hebrides and Solomon Islands and were not involved in the Queensland plantations to the same extent, so the development of Tok Pisin proceeded along its own path. Critical in this development was the role of Germany in colonising the area. German New Guinea, or what is now the northern half of the Papua New Guinea mainland and the islands of the Bismarck Archipelago, became effectively cut off from neighbouring regions. Labourers from this area did enter the plantation economy, thus promoting conditions conducive to the stabilisation of the pidgin, but this took place mainly in Samoa in the Central Pacific. Labourers were drawn mainly from the New Guinea Islands region, although some may have been drawn from the north coast regions of the mainland as well. Since the area typically has large numbers of languages spoken by small populations, the need for a lingua franca on the plantations favoured the development of the already existing pidgin language. There may well have been some mutual influence between this variety and the Queensland “Canefield English” used by other Melanesians, but the extent of this is difficult to determine. 1.2.

Early development in the New Guinea Area

At the end of the indentured labour schemes in the early years of the 20th century, labourers on the Samoan plantations were returned home. Most were initially repatriated to centres in Rabaul in East New Britain, or the Duke of York Islands, lying between New Britain and New Ireland in the Bismarck Archipelago (Mühlhäusler 1978). From there they were taken back to their home areas unless involved in local labour schemes. Further isolation from other south-west Pacific varieties led to considerable influence from the Austronesian languages of New Britain and New Ireland, especially in the lexicon, but also in grammatical structures. Features of the grammar of the early pidgin are also likely to have been reinforced if similar to structures widely present in local languages. As noted, Papua New Guinea is an area of great linguistic diversity. A survey by the Summer Institute of Linguistics (Grimes 1992) lists over 860 languages currently spoken in a population of 4–5 million. At the beginning of the 20th century, poor communication and contact were the rule, with traditional trading activities operating along a complex though limited network of contacts. The upsurge in activities from overseas missions, traders and administrators led to an acute need for

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a language of wider communication, and the newly formed pidgin of the Samoan plantations, now fairly widely known, fitted ideally. In the monolingual Samoan society, however, it was no longer of any use, and soon died out there. The development of New Guinea Pidgin English thus proceeded in German-occupied New Guinea, and as it stabilised and expanded, it came under two influences not present in other varieties in Solomon Islands and New Hebrides. The first of these was the language of the colonial power, German. A number of lexical items of German origin were adopted, especially in certain lexical fields, such as those related to education, woodworking, agriculture and so on, where German missionaries were intimately involved with the local population. Perhaps of equal significance was the fact that the English-lexicon pidgin was now effectively removed from further contact with its lexifier language. The second influence on the stabilising pidgin on the north coast of Mainland New Guinea was a substratum of non-Austronesian or Papuan languages. The languages of the Central Pacific as well as New Hebrides and Solomon Islands are almost uniformly Austronesian, and Austronesian languages are also dominant in the islands to the north and east of mainland New Guinea (Manus, New Britain, New Ireland and Bougainville). However, in parts of these areas, and most of the New Guinea mainland, the typologically different Papuan languages are spoken beyond a number of coastal enclaves of Austronesian speakers. The early pidgins exhibited a number of features typical of Austronesian languages, which tend to be reinforced by Austronesian-speaking populations, but there was little pressure to maintain exotic syntactic distinctions in non-Austronesian speaking areas. A good example of this is the so-called predicate marker i, which accords with the grammars of many Austronesian languages, and is thus retained in the Tok Pisin in these areas, but is routinely ignored in many non-Austronesian-speaking areas. Reesink (1990) has shown that some substrate syntactic features such as switch reference patterns and subordination are reflected in parallel differences in the Tok Pisin spoken in the area. 1.3.

Stabilisation and expansion

After the First World War, Germany ceased to be the colonial power, and a complex arrangement was put in place, whereby the former German territory came under a UN mandate, while the southern part of the mainland, formerly British New Guinea, became the Australian external territory of Papua. In practice, the two were administered as a single entity by the Australian administration. In the territory of New Guinea, Tok Pisin continued to spread and expand, while in Papua, another lingua franca based on a local Austronesian language developed into the most widely used medium of communication. This was known as Police Motu, due to its use by the police in administration, and is today known by the name of Hiri Motu. The hiri was a seasonal trading expedition in the Gulf of Papua, and

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while a simplified trade language may have been used for this, it is likely that the pidginised Motu used today is a separate development. At independence in 1975, the language issue was tackled by giving three languages, English, Tok Pisin and Hiri Motu, the status of “national languages”, a rather vague concept which fell short of conferring on any the status of an official language. Prince Charles’ speech in Tok Pisin to the newly independent parliament was a notable milestone, and although his intonation and stress patterns made it clear that he was not a speaker, and even suggested that he did not really understand everything he was reading, the gesture was widely appreciated. The designation of Hiri Motu as a national language was more controversial, and the decision was undoubtedly influenced by widespread secessionist sentiment in the Papuan provinces in the time leading up to independence. Few people see Hiri Motu as a truly national language, and its role has decreased as Tok Pisin gains more currency in what was formerly Papua, now known as the Southern Region of the country. English is the language of education and much written communication in government and administration, but it is Tok Pisin which is the de facto national language, being used in an increasing number of domains and expanding its range. 1.4.

The lexicon of Tok Pisin

The great majority of lexical items derives from English. However, whether this justifies the description of Tok Pisin as a “variety of English” is open to question, especially if the grammar as well as the derivation of the lexicon is taken into account. Some of the English words in use at the time they entered the emerging pidgin in the 19th century are now obsolete although they may survive in Tok Pisin. An example is giaman ‘lie, deceit’, from the informal English “gammon” in common use at that time. Other words of English origin may be similarly difficult to recognise as they have been reinterpreted in a grammatical role. Examples include the reinterpretation of the English pronoun he and him as the predicate marker i and transitive suffix -im respectively. Most words adopted from German now appear to be obsolescent, although a few, such as beten ‘pray’ and rausim ‘take off, expel’ (from German heraus ‘get out’) are still in common use. Words have also entered Tok Pisin from a number of other languages, and internal word-formation processes of the expanding pidgin have provided additional lexical resources. There appear to be one or two survivals from languages of the Pacific such as lotu ‘church service’ from Samoan and kanaka ‘bush person, hillbilly’ from the Hawaiian word for ‘person’, but by far the greatest source of nonEnglish vocabulary are the languages of the New Britain and New Ireland area to the north-east of the New Guinea mainland. As noted above, the early pidgin spoken in Samoa took root in this area, and words needed for flora and fauna or cultural items tended to be taken from languages of this area. Tracing an exact source is not always easy, as a word may have a similar form in several related

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languages. Much of the confusion about specific vernacular sources for Tok Pisin etyma was cleared up by Ross (1992). Typical items from languages of this area include kurita ‘octopus’, muruk ‘cassowary’, karuka ‘pandanus’, kunai ‘sword grass’, pukpuk ‘crocodile’, umben ‘fishing net’ and many locally occurring fishes and trees. Few items from the non-Austronesian languages of the New Guinea mainland have been adopted, but borrowing is continuing. More recently, speakers of Tok Pisin who also have a reasonable command of English are borrowing a large number of items from English. 1.5.

Current status

Although the name “Pidgin” is frequently used to refer to the language, Tok Pisin is spoken by an increasing number of children as a first language, i.e. as a creole. The use of a pidgin as a first language used to be considered a critical factor in the rate of change and development of a creole as it expanded to meet a full repertoire of communicative needs. However, studies on Tok Pisin such as Sankoff and Laberge (1973) have shown that creolisation has not had the dramatic effect which might have been expected, and that children merely accelerate tendencies which had already been developing in the expanded pidgin through second language use in an increasing number of situations. As with Bislama, then, the distinction between the use of Tok Pisin as a pidgin or as a creole is somewhat fuzzy and does not seem to be as critical as was once thought. In addition, Tok Pisin is continually expanding its geographical range into more and more remote locations, and to some extent the synchronic acquisition of the language in these situations is recapitulating its historical development. The possibility of re-pidginisation also exists in this situation, although an investigation by Holm and Kepiou in the Southern Highlands (1993) found no evidence of this. The question of standardisation of the language has arisen frequently, but there has been little inclination for government intervention, and successive administrations have been happy to adopt a laissez faire approach, and government-sponsored written communications in Tok Pisin are notorious for their variable and at times ambiguous style (Franklin 1990). A number of initiatives have been made to regularise or standardise vocabulary and syntax, even if some such as Bálint (1969) have been more an exercise in individual creativity than a reflection of the realities of a speech community. A number of academics have made some useful comments on the issue of standardisation, but the most influential practical standards have been mission-initiated. Firstly, the Bible Society’s translation of the Old and New Testament has provide a lasting standard formal register, and considerable effort has gone into dealing with the linguistic complexities involved (Mundhenk 1990). Then there is the enormous contribution of the late Father Frank Mihalic of the SVD (Society of the Divine Word). His Jacaranda Dictionary of Melanesian Pidgin, first published in 1957 and revised in 1971, was a huge boost to the accep-

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tance of the language. Although, as Mihalic (1990) himself realised, much in the dictionary is now looking distinctly dated, the absence of more up-to-date competitors has ensured that it remains the most widely used dictionary of Tok Pisin and the closest to a standard that exists. In addition to this, Mihalic translated the constitution of Papua New Guinea and his work also led to the standardised style sheet of the influential Wantok Niuspepa, a weekly publication begun in 1969. This reports overseas and local news in a formal style, as well as more creative sports reports (Romaine 1994) and items written in a more vernacular style such as letters to the editor and traditional stories (see Lomax 1983 for an analysis). In the absence of formal investigations, it is difficult to know what effects these standards have on the language of today’s speakers. The term Tok Pisin, then, refers to a complex of first and second language varieties. These are spoken with varying degree of fluency, and influenced to varying degrees by other languages used. Much remains to be known about Tok Pisin, especially with regard to regional variation in lexico-semantics and morphosyntax. One or two small-scale corpora have appeared recently (Smith 2002; Romaine 1992), to supplement earlier studies, but some large-scale research on the language in use would be desirable before major policy initiatives.

2.

Phonology of Tok Pisin

As we have seen, the term Tok Pisin covers rather a wide range of varieties, with variation along a number of dimensions, such as the speaker’s first or second language status, area of residence, degree of formality and familiarity with the lexifier, English. Different speakers vary considerably not only in core phonology, but lexis and morphosyntax as well. Indeed there is so much variation that, unlike the case with non-standard regional dialects of English, it is very difficult to identify a variety which can be considered typical or standard. However, an attempt will be made to do just this so that a yardstick can be established for comparison with other varieties of Melanesian Pidgin described in the volume. Mühlhäusler (1975) identifies four sociolects of Tok Pisin: Bush Pidgin, Rural Pidgin, Urban Pidgin and Tok Masta, and this is a useful point of departure. Bush Pidgin is described as the somewhat unstable second language variety heavily influenced by the phonology and syntax of the mother tongue. Rural Pidgin may also be influenced to varying degrees by the first language, but is the stable variety generally used for inter-ethnic communication throughout the rural areas where Tok Pisin is spoken. There may also be a gradation between Bush Pidgin and Rural Pidgin as speakers acquire greater competence in the language. Urban Pidgin is characterised as a variety heavily influenced by English and spoken mainly in urban areas. Finally, Tok Masta, which has little relevance here, refers to the unsystematic attempts by English-speaking expatriates to incorporate Tok Pisin

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features into their speech, possibly in the belief that Tok Pisin is little more than a garbled form of English. In the light of today’s knowledge it is not really a “variety” of Tok Pisin at all. While this classification provided a valuable insight into variation in Tok Pisin, my impression is that the rural-urban distinction is somewhat problematic. It is possible that a more valid criterion would be emerging bilingualism in Tok Pisin and English, which is not necessarily determined by urban or rural status. Many young people in the Manus and New Ireland Provinces, for example, appear to be becoming bilingual in these languages whether resident in rural or urban areas, and there is increasing influence from English phonology in their speech. The closest to a standard among the four lects above would be rural pidgin, and it is this which most closely approximates the ideal core phonology attempted here. 2.1.

Phonemic contrasts in “Standard Rural Tok Pisin”

The phoneme inventory of Tok Pisin is somewhat reduced compared with its principal lexifier, English. There are some 24 phonemes in the core phonology, with no evidence of lexical tone. The following account is based on two standard accounts of Tok Pisin phonology, Mihalic (1971) and Laycock (1985), the latter also drawing on Laycock (1970). Mihalic based his phonology and grammar on the Tok Pisin spoken around Madang in north-east New Guinea, while Laycock’s Tok Pisin materials are more wide-ranging, but mainly draw on data from the Sepik and Bougainville areas. Laycock also refers to a paper by Litteral (1970) as the most comprehensive account yet of the Tok Pisin phonological system, but unfortunately this has not been published. Comments about variation as noted by these writers, and also based on some regional data from Smith (2002), will be made as appropriate. A fuller discussion of the relationship between Tok Pisin and English will follow. 2.1.1. Consonants The following are the basic contrasting consonantal phonemes described in Mihalic (1971): p b m v f

t d n

k g N s

r l dZ w

j

h

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Note that this is identical to the inventory provided by Crowley for Bislama (this volume) apart from the inclusion of the affricate /dZ/. The consonants are generally close to their IPA values. Laycock’s (1985) core inventory also identifies the above phonemes, but in addition lists six pre-nasalised stop clusters: /mp, nt, Nk, mb, nd/ and /Nk/. Their inclusion is justified on the basis that they do not permit epenthetic vowels. However, four fricatives /f, v, S, Z/ are included only parenthetically as of marginal use. He observes that these fricatives may be used contrastively only in heavily Anglicised speech. The great majority of Tok Pisin lexical items are ultimately derived from English, and a number of correspondences between English sources and Tok Pisin words can be demonstrated. A number of these correspondences are listed in Laycock (1985: 296). The phonemes /p, t, k, s, m, n, N, r/ and /y/ are generally unchanged, as in the following, all shown in initial position:

/p/ /t/ /k/ /s/ /m/ /n/ /t/ /r/ /y/

English pig time kill sun man name tongue rope you

Tok Pisin pik taim kilim san man nem tan rop yu

Other phonemes in the core Tok Pisin inventory also present in English may be variably represented. Voiced stops, for example, may appear as either voiced or unvoiced in Tok Pisin in initial and medial position, but always devoiced in final position:

/b/-/b/ /d/-/d/ /d/-/t/ /g/-/g/ /g/-/k/

English bag die done gun bugger big

Tok Pisin bek (in)dai tan gan baga bikpela

Laycock does not produce any examples for English /b/ equivalent to Tok Pisin /p/, and there are only one or two very low frequency variants in my corpus (Smith 2002) such as panara for banara ‘bow’.

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Although the phoneme /v/ is widely used in words such as vilis ‘village’, it may variably be replaced by /f/ in words such as faif/faiv ‘five’. Similarly, /dZ/, which appears in initial place in words such as joinin ‘join’ and Jun ‘June’, often becomes /s/ in medial and final position, for example jasim ‘to judge’ and bris ‘bridge’. Other English consonants not normally found in Tok Pisin may correspond as follows: /T/ > /t/

but: /T/ > /s/ /D/ > /d/ but: /D/ > /t/ /S/ > /s/

/Z/ > /s/ /tS/ > /s/ /z/ > /s/

English think something thousand teeth

Tok Pisin ting samting tausen tit

mouth this

maus dispela

brother shine shoot fish engine change church change cheese razor cousin

brata sain sut(im) pis ensin senis sios senis sis resa kasin

The glottal fricative /h/ is variably present on words where /h/ is present in the English etymon. In what appears to be a case of hypercorrection, /h/ may also be added where none is present (O) in English: /h/-/h/ /h/-O O-O O-/h/

English house afternoon

Tok Pisin haus aus apinun hapinun

Of the six pre-nasalised stop clusters described by Laycock, all are equivalent to their English counterparts, except for the English /nS/ and /nZ/, which are rendered in Tok Pisin as -is in final position in winis ‘winch’ and senis ‘change’. However, the cluster is retained with the substitution of /s/ in medial position in ensin ‘engine’.

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2.1.2. Vowels Both Mihalic and Laycock identify a five basic vowel system: /a, e, i, o, u/. As with Bislama, these appear to be fairly close to cardinal IPA values, although little research on variation has been carried out. These are treated in turn below, showing some of the English source vowels for each. English

Tok Pisin

man start hot lucky turn

man statim hatpela laki tanim

head fat Mary plate

het fetpela meri plet

give steal

givim stilim

hold call belong dirty

holim kolim bilong doti

put shoot

putim sutim

TP /a/ /Q/ /A:/ /Å/ /√/ /Œ:/ TP /e/ /e/ /Q/ /e´/ /eI/ TP /i/ /I/ /i:/ TP /o/ /´U/ /ç:/ /Å/ /Œ:/ TP /u/ /U/ /u:/

It should be noted that although doti ‘dirty’ is the commonly cited form, I found that most speakers surveyed used deti, more similar to the English pronunciation. In addition, a number of diphthongs may be heard in Tok Pisin. While a greater range may be heard in varieties strongly influenced by bilingualism in English, the following are generally in common use in typical rural Tok Pisin: /aI/ /I´/ /aU/ /çI/

sign beer outside boy

sain bia autsait boi

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The English /aI´/ is also represented (paia ‘fire’), while /au´/ is generally heard with a semivowel: /au´/ pawa ‘power’. There is no evidence of contrastive use of vowel length. Standard written Tok Pisin tends to approximate the phonemic values in most cases, except that covers both /N/ and /Ng/, and geminate vowels such as in baim ‘to buy’ are not indicated (Pawley 1975). 2.2.

Variations in the core phoneme inventory

Superimposed on this idealised paradigm is considerable variation. Firstly, since the majority of the lexicon is derived from English, and Tok Pisin speakers come into increasing contact with Standard English, the likelihood of influence from English phonology is great. As Laycock has pointed out (1985: 25), Tok Pisin speakers familiar with English have potentially the whole of the English phoneme inventory at their disposal. More will be said about the relationship between the two languages below. Another source of variability among speakers of Tok Pisin as a second language is the influence of the phonologies of other languages spoken. A pioneering study by Bee (1971) showed that this influence can be considerable. She, however, was describing a situation where Tok Pisin had been fairly recently introduced and its use marginal. Influence from substrate phonology is likely to decrease as speakers become more familiar with mainstream patterns of use. Nevertheless, Laycock (1985) has shown that there is considerable influence from phonological patterns of other Papua New Guinea languages. The picture is undoubtedly very complex, as the 800−900 languages spoken within the country vary enormously in their phonology, so a consistent pattern of influence is only likely to be felt where there are widespread regional patterns. For example, intervocalic pre-nasalisation of voiced stops is widespread in many of the languages of the Sepik and Madang areas so far described, and this feature may appear in the Tok Pisin spoken of this region. Similarly, unvoiced stops may be realised medially as fricatives in many Highlands languages, and this feature may be preserved in the Tok Pisin of some speakers in the Highlands region. While these variations can be observed among second language speakers, the situation among first language speakers has received less attention. Romaine (1990) looks at the variation between /p/ and /f/ in initial position by young people in Morobe and Madang provinces, including first language speakers. Greater consistency in the correspondence between initial /f/ in Tok Pisin and their English equivalents is shown to be related to such factors as urban or rural status. In rural areas, such as Indagen, there was greater variation, and some interesting observations are made, including instances of hypercorrection where initial /f/ was used on words derived from English words beginning with /p/. Smith (2002) also ob-

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serves that the distinction between /p/ and /f/ is often inconsistently applied, especially in Highlands speech samples, but also in other areas such as Sepik and North Solomons, with such items as pik ‘pig’ rendered as fik. In another study on a single phoneme pair, Romaine (1995) discusses discrimination of the phonemes /r/ and /l/ in the same corpus of speech from Morobe and Madang Provinces used for the study of /p/ and /f/. She again relates the use of this distinction to urban and rural status, but does report that first language urban speakers are more consistent in distinguishing /r/ from /l/, even though there is considerable variation. Among the rural speakers, those in Waritsian village were most likely to confuse the phonemes, which could be due to substrate influence, as the Adzera language does not distinguish these two sounds. Smith (2002) also found some first language speakers showing quite marked variability with regard to this contrast. In the following extract from Eastern Highlands, for example, the expected forms lized ‘lizard’, long ‘to’, stilim ‘steal’ and lapun ‘old woman’ all appear with /r/ substituted for /l/, while /l/ replaces /r/ in rere ‘ready’: (1)

em i kam araun ro disa, a kam araun ro disa haus na stirim disa kiau blo rized na ranawe pinis. Em kukim i stap na leli lo(n)gen. Em stirim na go pinis na disa rapun meri i kam bek. ‘he came around to this house and stole the lizard’s eggs and ran away. He cooked them and got them ready. He had stolen them and taken them away when this old woman came back.’

Smith (2002) also found that the contrast between voiced and unvoiced stops was often inconsistently made by first language speakers, especially from the Highlands region, but also in other areas, particularly Manus and West Sepik. This leads to words such as pik ‘pig’ being heard as fik, antap ‘on top’ and paitim ‘hit’ as andap and paidim and liklik ‘small’ as liglig. In the case of velar stops, such words as pik ‘pig’ and dok ‘dog’ may thus have a pronunciation closer to the English source as pig or dog. There is also occasionally a tendency to pre-nasalise medial voiced stops, giving forms such as gondaun in place of godaun ‘go down’. Also typical of some Highlands speakers is the tendency to voice /s/ to give forms such as dizla for disla ‘this’. In some areas, the voiceless alveolar stop /t/ and spirant /s/ may alternate, especially in certain words such as sapos/tapos ‘if’. While these features serve to give particular accents to speakers of various first languages, Laycock (1985: 304) notes that there is such internal diversity in all provinces that distinct regional accents are not likely to emerge. Although such variation generally is not so marked as to make comprehensibility a problem, he notes that the lack of a distinction between /t/ and /s/, carried over into Tok Pisin from many languages in New Ireland, New Britain, the Highlands and South Bougainville is actually “disturbing to communication” Laycock (1985: 302). More generally, peculiarities of pronunciation provide the basis for many jokes at the

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expense of less fluent Tok Pisin speakers, for example the humorous stories featured in the “Kanage” column of Wantok Niuspepa. This ridiculing of strongly nonstandard features is cited by Laycock (1985: 304) as another reason why distinct regional accents are unlikely to emerge. 2.3.

Prosodic features

There is little information available on prosodic features in Tok Pisin. Those studies that have been made point to variability and the need for more detailed study. Wurm (1985) is the only detailed account of Tok Pisin intonation, and here he also discusses stress as one determinant of intonation patterns. Faraclas (1989) also looks at some of the intonation patterns among first language speakers. 2.3.1. Stress Wurm (1985) gives an account of stress patterns based on his experience of the rural pidgin spoken in the Eastern Highlands in the late 1950s and 1960s. He notes that there is considerable variability, with stress patterns more closely resembling those of English among speakers more familiar with English. In general, he notes that stress is normally on the first syllable. In some cases, there may be a nonstressed epenthetic vowel, and occasionally this may be re-interpreted by some speakers as a phonemic vowel and given stress. Some words do have stress on other than initial syllables, for example, the following stressed on the second syllable: orait ‘all right, then’, singaut ‘shout, call out’, sekan ‘shake hands’, sanap ‘stand up’ etc. Wurm notes that stress patterns are the basis for the patterns of intonation, which is discussed in the next section. There is the possibility that different stress may disambiguate certain word pairs, although little work seems to have been done on this. Possible candidates would be the pairs 'nating ‘nothing’ and na'ting ‘I think, probably’, and 'palai ‘lizard’ and pa'lai ‘fly’, although I do not have definite evidence to show that this distinction is consistently made. In the Tok Pisin of first language speakers and fluent second language speakers who use the language as a primary vehicle of communication, considerable reduction of stressed syllables can be observed (Smith 2002). Extreme samples of speech such as the following were encountered among young people: (2)

mi kam na was ken l’sla diwai = mi kam na was ken long dispela diwai ‘I came and watched again at this tree’

One effect is the cliticisation of certain words such as long ‘in; on; at’ and bilong (possessive), especially when preceding vowels:

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(3)

ol meikim kastam bl’ ol (bilong ol) they make custom-POSS them ‘they were doing their traditional things’

(4)

ol salim em go they send him go ‘they sent him home’

723

l’aus (long haus) to house

Cliticisation of aspect particles save (sa) ‘habitual’ and laik (la) ‘about to’ also appears to be in progress. Reduction can often be quite drastic, for example, the three-syllable utterance tso l’ sla taim recorded in the Highlands represents tasol long dispela taim ‘but at this time’ (maximally of seven syllables). 2.3.2. Intonation Wurm’s (1985) account is again based on Eastern Highlands rural pidgin from 40 to 50 years ago and, as he concedes, may not be applicable to other varieties. He describes variability mainly in terms of the rural-urban dimension, with urban implying greater familiarity with English. Wurm gives no fewer than 20 distinct intonation patterns as a result of his familiarity with this variety. These include ordinary declarative statements, and extra dimensions indicating emphasis or emotion, questions, answers and commands. There are also some special cases involving words like orait ‘all right’, tru ‘true’ and formulae such as em tasol ‘that’s all’. He notes that high pitch is the major determinant of stress, and that word stress is generally retained in declarative utterances. One interesting observation arising from Wurm’s study is that first language speakers tend to use intonation patterns acquired from interaction with second language speakers. Wurm’s data are valuable as very little else is available on intonation in Tok Pisin. However, although the patterns are quite definitely identified, there is no quantitative treatment, or indication of how they were recorded. It is not clear, for example, whether the copious example sentences were contrived to illustrate these patterns, or were actual examples recorded in use. Thus their applicability to other varieties is problematic. Faraclas (1989) looks at stress patterns among Tok Pisin speakers in East Sepik, mainly concentrating on stress reduction. He takes account of variables such as sex, first language and degree of education in English, and demonstrates that females show consistently less stress reduction than males, and that the amount of English schooling has a significant influence. He supports Wurm’s observations about the importance of substrate languages and shows, rather surprisingly, that substrate interference does not appear to be significantly less among first language speakers than second language speakers. Sex differences also appear to play a significant role in creolised varieties, with females tending towards English stress patterns more than males.

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Smith (2002) did not look at stress or intonation in detail, but the role of intonation in discourse was commented on. For example, the use of nau to signal stages in a sequence was a common feature of narratives in the New Guinea Islands provinces: (5)

Em nau, tupla sutim nau, tupla pasim wanpla diwai nau, na tupla pasim rop wantaim leg blong em nau na tupla taitim nau na tupla wokabaut i kam daun. ‘now the two shot it, they fastened a branch, they fastened a rope to its leg, the two tied it now, the two walked down’

In each case, the word nau is accompanied by a distinctive rising intonation showing that one stage in the sequence is finished and another is about to begin, while the final kam daun is accompanied by a falling intonation to indicate completion. Wurm, too, noted the role of intonation in discourse, describing the flat intonation of orait in similar discourse sequences. Intonation could possibly also have a role in disambiguating certain syntactic patterns, for example, the expression yu no laik paitim em would generally mean ‘you do not want to hit him’ or ‘you are not about to hit him’ when spoken with a falling intonation, but a rising intonation could indicate a meaning ‘you ought to have hit him’ (Smith 2002: 129). Relative clauses unmarked by relative pronouns may also depend on intonation for comprehension (Wurm 1971). 2.3.3. Phonotactics As in English, word final /h/ and word initial /N/ are not permitted. There is some variation with regard to syllable structure, especially with respect to consonant clusters. In many Austronesian languages, consonant clusters are not permitted, and this general pattern may have influenced Tok Pisin in its formative period, and still affects that used by speakers of Austronesian languages today. Generally, too, it can be assumed that the more Anglicised the variety, the greater the tendency to allow clusters of two or three consonants according to English patterns. However, little research has been done on this. The best source of information is still Pawley (1975) who looked in detail at the question of epenthetic vowels in the Tok Pisin of an informant from Rabaul. His analysis is limited to this single informant, but highlights some of the problems of deciding on whether the underlying representation is phonemic or not. A number of possibilities are presented by Pawley’s (1975) data. It may be that the underlying representation is a consonant cluster, with epenthetic vowels variably inserted in certain environments. An alternative interpretation would treat the vowels as phonemic, but elided in certain circumstances. His informant, for example, inserted considerably fewer epenthetic vowels in rapid speech, so one factor is simply speed of delivery. Some of the apparent constraints governing

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selection of epenthetic vowels are discussed below. Pawley tends towards treating the vowels as transitional features in consonant clusters, especially as some Papua New Guinean languages show such features in “loose” consonant cluster systems. Nevertheless, it appears that some elements which are phonemic vowels in the English source lexis have been reanalysed as epenthetic in Tok Pisin. A good example is the possessive bilong from the English belong which is normally reduced in speech to blong, blo or even cliticised as bl’ to following words as in bl’em (= bilong em) ‘his, her’.

3.

Morphological processes

There is little evidence of morphophonemic processes in Tok Pisin. Unlike Bislama, the -im suffix appears to be unchanged with differing root vowels. However, the case of epenthetic vowels separating consonant clusters described above may be worth investigating further. Pawley (1975) noted that a number of processes could be considered as possibilities for determining the nature of epenthetic vowels. The first is simply echoing an identical form of the stressed vowel, thus producing alternations such as the following: English

Tok Pisin

brother clean skin twist

brata klin skin krukutim

barata kilin sikin kurukutim, etc.

However, in other cases, this could not explain the choice of vowel, as in stone spoon ground

ston spun graun

siton sipun giraun

Similarly, clusters in final position may insert epenthetic vowels which differ from than the stressed vowel: tax six dance

taks siks dans

takis sikis danis

In cases such as these it appears that /i/ is inserted in certain specifically defined phonetic environments, for example, in final clusters where /s/ is one element, or vowels other than /a/, unless immediately followed by /i/ or /u/ (Pawley 1975: 224).

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4.

Tok Pisin and English in contact

Tok Pisin and English are now in fairly intensive contact for many Papua New Guineans, especially those who are growing up speaking Tok Pisin as a first or primary language and are receiving education through the medium of English. In principal, the education system is English-medium in most government educational institutions from grade one to the end of tertiary, but in practice, a fair amount of Tok Pisin may be used. Nevertheless, many young people grow up familiar with both languages. In a situation such as this, the question is whether a post-creole continuum is likely to develop, as has happened in other societies such as Guyana and Jamaica. A number of researchers have given indications that a post-creole continuum may be developing or may already be in place, but Siegel (1997), reviewing the available evidence, shows that the current situation falls far short of an established continuum. Smith (2002) also reviews the evidence and comes to broadly the same conclusion. Nevertheless, there is a good deal of mutual influence between the two languages in Papua New Guinea today. Many young people familiar with English engage in code-switching, where discrete chunks of English are used in discourse, and code-mixing, where elements from English are mixed in. Many English verbs, for example, are incorporated into Tok Pisin and integrated by adding the transitivising marker -im. In some cases the phonology of the English word is retained intact, while in other cases, there is adaptation to the phonology of Tok Pisin. The future extent and direction of this contact is not known at present. Much will depend on language and education policy decisions, but there is the distinct possibility that the two phonological systems may come to have an increasingly intimate relationship.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Bálint, András 1969 English-Pidgin-French Phrase Book and Sports Dictionary. Port Moresby: Author. Bee, Darlene 1971 Phonological interference between Usarufa and Pidgin English. Kivung 5: 69−95. Faraclas, Nicholas 1989 Prosody and creolization in Tok Pisin. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 4: 132−139.

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Franklin, Karl J. 1990 On the translation of official notices into Tok Pisin. In: Verhaar (ed.), 323−344. Grimes, Barbara (ed.) 1992 Ethnologue: Languages of the World. 12th edition Dallas, TX: Summer Institute of Linguistics. Holm, John A. and Christopher Kepiou 1993 Tok Pisin i kamap pisin gen? Is Tok Pisin repidginizing? In: Francis Byrne and John Holm (eds.), Atlantic Meets Pacific: A Global View of Pidginization and Creolization, 341–353. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Laycock, Donald C. 1970 Materials in New Guinea Pidgin (Coastal and Lowlands). (Pacific Linguistics D5.) Canberra: Australian National University. 1985 Phonology: substratum elements in Tok Pisin phonology. In: Stephen A. Wurm and Peter Mühlhäusler (eds.), Handbook of Tok Pisin (New Guinea Pidgin), 295−307. (Pacific Linguistics C70.) Canberra: Australian National University. Litteral, Robert 1970 The phonemes of New Guinea Pidgin. Ukarumpa: Summer Institute of Linguistics. Unpublished manuscript. Lomax, R. W. 1983 Aspects of cohesion and discourse structure in Tok Pisin (Melanesian Pidgin). M.A. thesis, University of Leeds. Mihalic, Frank 1971 The Jacaranda Dictionary and Grammar of Melanesian Pidgin. Milton, QLD: Jacaranda. 1990 Obsolescence in the Tok Pisin vocabulary. In: Verhaar (ed.), 263−273. Mühlhäusler, Peter 1975 Sociolects in New Guinea Pidgin. In: Kenneth A. McElhanon (ed.), Tok Pisini go we? Kivung special publication, number 1, 59–75. Port Moresby: Linguistic Society of Papua New Guinea. 1978 Samoan Plantation Pidgin and the origin of New Guinea Pidgin. Papers in Pidgin and Creole Linguistics 1: 7−119. 1975 Sociolects in New Guinea Pidgin. In: kenneth A. McElhanon (ed.), Tok Pisin i go we? Kivung special publication, number 1, 59–75. Port Moresby: Linguistic Society of Papia new Guinea. Mundhenk, Norman 1990 Linguistic decisions in the 1987 Tok Pisin bible. In: Verhaar (ed.), 345−373. Pawley, Andrew K. 1975 On epenthetic vowels in New Guinea Pidgin. In: Kenneth A. McElhanon (ed.), Tok Pisin i go we? Kivung special publication, number 1, 215–228. Port Moresby: Linguistic Society of Papua New Guinea. Reesink, Ger P. 1990 Mother Tongue and Tok Pisin. In: Verhaar (ed.), 289−306. Romaine, Suzanne 1990 Variability and Anglicization in the distinction between p/f in young children’s Tok Pisin. In: Jerold A. Edmondson, Crawford Feagin and Peter Mühlhäusler (eds.), Development and Diversity: Language Variation across Time and

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Space. A Festschrift for Charles-James N. Bailey, 173−185. Arlington, TX: Summer Institute of Linguistics. 1992 Language, Education and Development: Urban and Rural Tok Pisin in Papua New Guinea. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 1994 On the creation and expansion of registers: sports reporting in Tok Pisin. In: Douglas Biber, and Edward Finegan (eds.), Sociolinguistic Perspectives on Register, 59−81. Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press. 1995 “Lice he no good”: On [r] and [l] in Tok Pisin. In: Werner Abraham, Talmy Givón and Sandra A. Thompson (eds.), Discourse Grammar and Typology: Papers in Honor of John W.M. Verhaar, 309−318. Amsterdam/Phildelphia: Benjamins. Ross, Malcolm 1992 Sources of Austronesian lexical items in Tok Pisin. In: Tom E. Dutton, Malcolm Ross and Darrel T. Tryon (eds.), The Language Game: Papers in Memory of Donald Laycock, 361−384. (Pacific linguistics C110.) Canberra: Australian National University. Sankoff, Gillian and Suzanne Laberge 1973 On the acquisition of native speakers by a language. Kivung 6: 32−47. Siegel, Jeff 1997 Pidgin and English in Melanesia: is there a continuum? World Englishes 16: 185−204. Smith, Geoff P. 2002 Growing up with Tok Pisin: Contact, Creolization and Change in Papua New Guinea’s National Language. London: Battlebridge. Verhaar, John W.M. (ed.) 1990 Melanesian Pidgin and Tok Pisin. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Wurm, Stephen A. 1971 New Guinea Highlands Pidgin: Course materials. (Pacific Linguistics D3.) Canberra: Australian National University. 1985 Phonology: intonation in Tok Pisin. In: Stephen A. Wurm and Peter Mühlhäusler (eds.), Handbook of Tok Pisin (New Guinea Pidgin), 309−334. (Pacific Linguistics C70.) Canberra: Australian National University.

Hawai‘i Creole: phonology Kent Sakoda and Jeff Siegel

1.

Introduction

Hawai‘i Creole is spoken by an estimated 600,000 people in the US state of Hawai‘i. In the linguistics literature, it is usually called Hawai‘i (or Hawaiian) Creole English, but its speakers call it “Pidgin”. While Hawai‘i Creole uses many words from Hawaiian and other languages, the majority of its vocabulary comes from English; however, the phonology and semantics are quite different from English. Before describing the phonology of Hawai‘i Creole, this chapter presents some background information on its historical development, current use, and vocabulary. 1.1.

Historical and sociolinguistic background

1.1.1. Contact and immigration The Hawaiian Islands were populated by Polynesians some time between 200 and 400 AD. The first Europeans to visit the islands were Captain Cook and his crew in 1778. At that time the native Hawaiian population numbered somewhere between 200,000 and a million. Contact with outsiders increased when Hawai‘i became a stopover in the fur trade between China and the west coast of North America, and then a centre for the sandalwood trade and the whaling industry. During this time the foreign population in Hawai‘i increased while the indigenous population decreased drastically because of introduced disease. In 1848 there were only approximately 88,000 Hawaiians left. In 1835, the first sugarcane plantation was established, and the expanding sugar industry led to the importation of labourers from many countries. About 2,000 Chinese plantation labourers arrived from 1852 to 1876, and more than 37,000 from 1877 to 1897. The majority were speakers of dialects of Cantonese Yue and Hakka, spoken in southern China. Approximately 2,450 labourers from other Pacific islands were imported from 1877 to 1887 – most from Kiribati (then the Gilbert Islands) but at least 550 from Vanuatu (then the New Hebrides), and some from Rotuma (currently part of Fiji), New Ireland and Bougainville (parts of Papua New Guinea) and Santa Cruz (Solomon Islands).

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More than 10,000 Portuguese workers were brought in from 1878 to 1887 and another 13,000 from 1906 to 1913. Nearly all of these were from the Madeira and Azores islands. Indentured labourers also came from continental Europe: 615 Scandinavians (mostly from Norway) in 1881 and 1,052 Germans between 1882 and 1885. Steady Japanese indentured migration began in 1884, and by 1924 over 200,000 Japanese had arrived in Hawai‘i. Migration from the Philippines began in 1907, and by 1930 over 100,000 Filipinos had come to Hawai‘i. Other significant numbers of immigrants included 5,203 from Puerto Rico (1900−1901), 7,843 from Korea (1903−1905), approximately 3,000 from Russia (1906−1912) and about 2,000 from Spain (1907−1913). 1.1.2. The development of Hawai‘i Pidgin English Texts from the early 1800s provide evidence that a pidginized variety of English was used to some extent in Hawai‘i ports, most probably brought by sailors. It was clearly not a stable pidgin, but contained some of the features found in Chinese Pidgin English and the South Seas Jargon of the time which influenced the development of Pacific Pidgin English. Some of these include the use of by and by meaning ‘later’, no as a preverbal negator, plenty used to mean ‘a lot of’, one used as an indefinite article, and been as a past tense marker. Other features of existing stable pidgins were later brought to Hawai‘i by the early plantation labourers: Chinese Pidgin English by the Chinese, and Pacific Pidgin English (including early forms of Melanesian Pidgin) by the Gilbertese and Melanesian labourers. Texts from this time show a still unstable pidginized form of English with some of the features of these varieties but few of the features found in later Hawai‘i Creole. The more widespread pidgin that developed on the plantations of Hawai‘i was Pidgin Hawaiian. When the plantation era began, the Hawaiians were still in control of their islands, and their language was dominant. It was the language of government and of education for all non-Euroamerican children, and it naturally became the language used to run the plantations. However, it was a pidginized form of Hawaiian that was used for communication between whites, Chinese and Hawaiians on the plantations. When labourers started coming from Portugal and other countries in the 1870s, Pidgin Hawaiian stabilized and remained as the main plantation language until the 1890s. There is evidence that some Pidgin Hawaiian was still being used early in the 20th century, especially in rural areas. The shift in dominance from Hawaiian to English began in 1875 when the Reciprocity Treaty with the United States was signed. This allowed free trade and a greater influx of Americans. Also the number of Hawaiians continued to decline and by 1878, the number had decreased to less than 50,000. In the decade from 1878 to 1888, there was a dramatic increase in the number of English-medium schools

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and a decrease in the number of Hawaiian schools. At the same time, Chinese and Portuguese families began to arrive, whereas previously most of the labourers had been single men. This meant that there was an increased number of children being exposed to English in the now English-medium public schools, including substantial numbers from the first generation of locally born children of immigrants. During this period, English also began to gradually replace Hawaiian as the language of the plantations, and an English-lexified pidgin began to develop. At this stage, Pidgin Hawaiian was still widely used as well, and this led to many Hawaiian words coming into the English pidgin. By the end of the 19th century, Hawai‘i Pidgin English (HawPE) had stabilized and had become established as a new auxiliary language. At the beginning of the 20th century, HawPE began to be used more widely for interethnic communication outside the plantations, especially in the mixed urban areas. An important factor was the emergence of large numbers of the first generation of locally born Japanese who came into the public schools and learned HawPE from their classmates. (Another important factor was that most English speaking Euroamerican children continued to go to private schools.) Children also began to acquire HawPE from their school age siblings and use it as a second language in the home. As children grew older, many of them used HawPE more than their mother tongue. 1.1.3. The emergence of Hawai‘i Creole At the turn of the century, the second generation of locally born Chinese and Portuguese began to appear on the scene. By this time, most parents were bilingual in their traditional language and HawPE, and many used this pidgin as their primary language. So in many cases, parents spoke to their new-born children in the pidgin, rather than in Cantonese or Portuguese, for example. The result was that many of this second generation of immigrants acquired HawPE as their first language. At the same time, many Hawaiians had intermarried with Chinese and other immigrants and had children. The census of 1910 gave the figures of 26,041 Hawaiians and 12,506 Part-Hawaiians. It is likely that for many of these interethnic marriages, the language of the home was HawPE, so that many of the Part-Hawaiian children also learned the pidgin as their first language. Since HawPE was now spoken as a first language, it was technically no longer a pidgin language, but rather a creole. So it was at this time that we can say that Hawai‘i Creole began to emerge. Most linguists agree that Hawai‘i Creole was established as a distinct language some time between 1905 and 1920, as more and more second generation locally born Chinese and Portuguese – later joined by larger numbers of second generation locally born Japanese – acquired it as their first language. Some time between 1920 and 1930, the number of locally born children of immigrants grew to equal the number of foreign born, and it can

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be said that this was the time that Hawai‘i Creole became fully established as the language of the majority of the population of Hawai‘i (see Roberts 2000). 1.1.4. Influence of other languages We have already mentioned that many words from Hawaiian came into Hawai‘i Creole through Pidgin Hawaiian and Pidgin English. But the structure of Hawaiian has also affected the structure of Hawai‘i Creole, making it different from that of English. One example is word order. In Hawaiian, there are sentences such as Nui ka hale. Literally this is ‘Big the house’, which in English would be ‘The house is big’. Similarly, in Hawai‘i Creole we find sentences such as Big, da house and Cute, da baby. Another example is the type of expression from Hawaiian such as Auwe#, ka nani! which is literally ‘Oh the pretty!’ meaning ‘Oh, how pretty!’. Similarly, in Hawai‘i Creole we find the same kind of expression – for example, Oh, da pretty! and Oh, da cute! Other languages also appear to have influenced the structure of Hawai‘i Creole more than the vocabulary. One such language is Cantonese. For example, in Cantonese one word yáuh is used for both possessive and existential sentences, i.e. meaning both ‘have/has’ and ‘there is/are’, as in these examples below (from Matthews and Yip 1994): (1)

a. Kéuihdeih yáuh sa#am-go jái. (they yáuh three sons) ‘They have three sons.’ b. Yáuh go hahksa#ang hóu síng. (yáuh a student very bright) ‘There’s a student who’s very bright.’

Similarly, in Hawai‘i Creole one word get is used for both possessive and existential, as in (2): (2)

a. They get three sons. ‘They have three sons.’ b. Get one student he very bright. ‘There’s a student who’s very bright.’

Portuguese appears to have affected the structure of Hawai‘i Creole even more. For instance, Portuguese uses the word para meaning ‘for’ to introduce infinitival clauses, where Standard English uses to, as in (3): (3)

Carlos é homem para fazer isso. (Charles is man for do that.) ‘Charles is the man to do that.’

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Similarly, for (or fo) is used in Hawai‘i Creole: (4)

Charles is da man fo do ’um. ‘Charles is the man to do it.’

The Portuguese copula/auxiliary estar (with various conjugations such as está) has several different functions, including copula with locations and adjectives, auxiliary for present progressive, and marker for perfective, as in the examples in (5): (5)

a. O livro está sobre a mesa. (the book está on the table) ‘The book is on the table.’ b. A água está fria. (the water está cold) ‘The water is cold.’ c. João está escrevendo uma carta. (John está writing one letter) ‘John is writing a letter.’ d. A casa está construida. (the house está constructed) ‘The house is finished.’

In Hawai‘i Creole, the word stay has the same functions: (6)

a. Da book stay on top da table. ‘The book is on the table.’ b. Da water stay cold. ‘The water is cold.’ c. John stay writing one letter. ‘John is writing a letter.’ d. Da house stay pau already. ‘The house is finished.’

The phonology of Hawai‘i Creole also has some similarities to that of Hawaiian, Cantonese and Portuguese, especially in the vowel system and intonation in questions, but these connections have not been studied in any detail. Thus, the ethnic groups whose languages most influenced the structure of Hawai‘i Creole seem to have been the Hawaiians, Chinese and Portuguese. But the influence of the Hawaiians declined steadily as their numbers declined and the numbers of other ethnic groups increased. By 1900, there were more Portuguese and Chinese than Hawaiians and Part-Hawaiians. Even though the Japanese were by far the largest immigrant group, their language seems to have had little effect

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on the structure of Hawai‘i Creole. One reason for this was first pointed out by the famous Hawai‘i Creole scholar, John Reinecke, who wrote (1969: 93): “The first large immigration of Japanese did not occur until 1888 when the Hawaiian, Chinese and Portuguese between them had pretty well fixed the form of the ‘pidgin’ [English] spoken on the plantations.” Another reason is that, as we have seen, it was the locally born members of immigrant groups who first used Pidgin English as their primary language and whose mother tongues influenced the structure of the language. This structure was then passed on to their children in the development of Hawai‘i Creole. When the creole first began to emerge, the locally born population was dominated by the Chinese and Portuguese. Of these two groups, the Portuguese were the more important. In 1896, they made up over half of the locally born immigrant population. For the Portuguese, the number of locally born came to equal the number of foreign born in 1900, whereas this did not happen for the Chinese until just before 1920 and for the Japanese not until later in the 1920s (see Roberts 2000). The Portuguese were also the most significant immigrant group in the schools. They were the first group to bring their families, and their demands for education for their children in English rather than Hawaiian were partially responsible for the increase in English-medium public schools. From the critical years of 1881 until 1905, Portuguese children were the largest immigrant group in the schools, with over 20 percent from 1890 to 1905. Another factor was that the Portuguese, being white, were given a disproportionate number of influential positions on the plantations as skilled labourers, clerks and lunas ‘foremen’ who gave orders to other labourers. In fact, the number of Portuguese lunas was three times larger than that of any other group. The Portuguese community was also the first to shift from their traditional language to Hawai‘i Creole. By the late 1920s, the Portuguese had the lowest level of traditional language maintenance, and the greatest dominance of English or Hawai‘i Creole in the homes, followed by the Hawaiians and then the Chinese (see Siegel 2000). But that is not to say that Japanese has had no influence on Hawai‘i Creole. Many Japanese words have come into the language, and several Hawai‘i Creole expressions, such as chicken skin ‘goose bumps’, are direct translations of Japanese. Also, the way many discourse particles are used, such as yeah and no at the end of a sentence, seems to be due to Japanese influence. Furthermore, the structure of narratives in Hawai‘i Creole is very similar to that of Japanese (see Masuda 2000). 1.2.

Sociolinguistic situation

Since its development, Hawai‘i Creole has been used mostly as the informal language of families and friends, and has been considered an important badge of local

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identity, i.e. the language of people born and bred in Hawai‘i, especially ethnic Hawaiians and descendants of plantation labourers. Attitudes towards the language have always been ambivalent. While recognized as being important to local culture, it has at the same time been denigrated as corrupted or “broken” English, and seen as an obstacle to learning Standard English, the official language of the schools, government and big business. In recent years, however, there has been a great deal of advocacy for Hawai‘i Creole which has resulted in changing attitudes and use in wider contexts. The turning point may have been in 1987 when the state Board of Education attempted to implement a policy which allowed only Standard English in the schools. Instead of being well-received by the community, there was a strong negative reaction from parents, teachers, university faculty and other community groups. The policy was seen as discriminatory and as an unfair attack on Hawai‘i Creole and on local culture in general (Sato 1989, 1991). The debate generated many letters to local newspapers and much discussion on radio and television, the majority strongly supporting Hawai‘i Creole. Similar debates have erupted since then (the most recent in 1999 and 2002), as educational administrators and some members of the public seek to blame Hawai‘i Creole for poor state results in national standardized tests in reading and writing. Since 1998, a group of people, mainly from the University of Hawai‘i at Ma#noa, have been meeting regularly to discuss linguistic, sociolinguistic and educational issues concerning Hawai‘i Creole. This group is called “Da Pidgin Coup” (all puns intended). Following the public debate in 1999, the group wrote a position paper, “Pidgin and Education”, as a basis for discussions with education officials and teachers, and for public education efforts as well. The aim was to provide information, backed up by research, about the complex relationship between Hawai‘i Creole and English, and about the equally complex issues surrounding the use of Hawai‘i Creole in education. (The position paper can be accessed at .) The expanding domains of Hawai‘i Creole have mainly been in the area of literature. Over the past decades, the use of the language in short stories, plays and poetry has increased dramatically. Most notable are the works of Milton Murayama, Darrell Lum, Ed Sakamoto, Eric Chock, Gary Pak, and Lee Tonouchi (e.g. 2001). The novels of Lois-Ann Yamanaka, with their use of Hawai‘i Creole in both narration and dialogue, have been successful outside of Hawai‘i as well. The most remarkable extension of use of the language has been in the translation of the New Testament (Da Jesus Book), published in 2000. Over 11,000 copies were sold in the first year it appeared. Nevertheless, Hawai‘i Creole remains primarily a spoken language. Speakers range on a continuum from what is called the “heavy Pidgin” or “full-on Pidgin” (the basilect, or variety furthest from Standard English) to a lighter form of the creole (the acrolect, closest to Standard English). The majority of speakers speak

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varieties in between (the mesolects) and can switch back and forth between lighter or heavier forms of the creole as required by contextual factors such as interlocutor, topic, setting and formality. A large proportion of speakers are also completely bilingual and can switch between the creole and a form of Standard English. There is a widespread belief that this continuum is a result of “decreolization”, or a gradual change taking place in Hawai‘i Creole which is resulting in it becoming more and more like English. However, evidence exists that such a continuum of variation existed from the earliest days of the language. Furthermore, the desire to project a separate local identity will most likely ensure that the language remains distinct from English. Nevertheless, there is no general agreement about what really constitutes “Pidgin” in Hawai‘i. For some people, it means the basilectal variety, with its grammatical rules that are very different from those of English. For others, it means using only the local accent and some local vocabulary items. For the purpose of this chapter, we will focus on the variety that differs most from Standard English, i.e. the basilect, but we will mention significant variants in the mesolectal varieties that are closer to English. It must be kept in mind, however, that with the nature of the creole continuum, there is a great deal of intra- and inter-speaker variation. Furthermore, with the high degree of bilingualism, the Hawai‘i Creole of some speakers is affected by English.

2.

Vocabulary

The vast majority of words in Hawai‘i Creole are derived from English and have the same meanings as their English etyma. However, many Hawai‘i Creole words have changed in meaning or have additional meanings, including the following: alphabet lawn mower package pear off broke shame

‘alphabet, letter of the alphabet’ ‘lawn mower, to mow’ (e.g. lawnmower the grass) ‘package, sack, paper bag’ ‘pear, avocado’ ‘off, turn off’ (e.g. off the light) ‘broke, broken, break, torn, tear, tore’ (e.g. He broke my shirt.) ‘shame, shy, bashful, embarrassed’

Other words and expressions are derived from English but have changed in form and in some cases in meaning as well: cockaroach beif brah (bla, blala) boddah

‘cockroach, to steal or sneak away with’ ‘bathe’ ‘brother’ ‘bother’

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fut mento nuff hybolic garans laters whatevahs

737

‘fart’ ‘mental, insane’ ‘enough’ ‘using fancy (or standard-sounding) language’ ‘guaranteed’ ‘see you later’ ‘whatever, it doesn’t matter’

There are also many compounds and expressions made up of English-derived words that are not found in English (or at least not with the same meaning): buckaloose bulai bolohead buddha-head howzit cat tongue catch air chicken skin stink eye talk stink talk story broke da mouth

‘go out of control’ ‘to tell lies’ (bull + lie) ‘bald’ (bald + head) ‘local person of Japanese ancestry’ ‘greeting, how are you?’ ‘unable to drink or eat hot things’ ‘breathe’ ‘goose bumps’ ‘dirty look’ ‘talk badly about someone’ ‘have informal conversation, tell stories’ ‘very delicious!’

In addition, Hawai‘i Creole has many words derived from other languages. The largest number of such words (over 100) come from the Hawaiian language. Many of these have come into the English spoken in Hawai‘i as well. Some examples are: akamai haole hapai huhu imu kapakahi keiki koa kokua lanai lei lilikoi

‘smart’ ‘white person (Euroamerican)’ (Hawaiian haole ‘foreigner’) ‘carry, pregnant’ (Hawaiian ha#pai) ‘angry, offended’ (Hawaiian huhu#) ‘earth oven’ ‘crooked, inside-out’ ‘child, children’ ‘kind of native forest tree’ ‘help’ (Hawaiian ko#kua) ‘verandah’ (Hawaiian la#nai) ‘flower garland’ ‘passionfruit’

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lolo mahimahi manini ohana okole ono opala pau pilau pilikia puka pupu(s) wahine

‘stupid, crazy’ (Hawaiian lo#lo#) ‘dolphin fish’ ‘stingy, undersized’ ‘extended family’ ‘anus, buttocks’ (Hawaiian ‘o#kole) ‘delicious’ (Hawaiian ‘ono) ‘trash, rubbish’ (Hawaiian ‘o#pala) ‘finish, finished’ ‘rotten’ ‘trouble, bother’ ‘hole’ ‘party snacks, finger food’ (Hawaiian pu#pu#) ‘woman’

Japanese has also provided many words to Hawai‘i Creole (approximately 40, but some of these are used primarily by people of Japanese ancestry). Some examples are: bachi bento bocha chichi(s) daikon janken po mochi musubi nori obake shishi shoyu tako ume zori(s)

‘punishment, retribution’ ‘Japanese style box lunch’ ‘bath, bathe’ ‘breast(s)’ (Japanese chichi ‘milk’) ‘kind of turnip’ ‘paper, scissors and stone game’ ‘rice patty’ ‘rice ball’ (western Japanese) ‘dried seaweed’ ‘ghost’ ‘urine, urinate’ ‘soy sauce’ ‘octopus’ ‘partially dried salted sour plum pickle’ ‘rubber thong(s), flip-flops’

In addition, Hawai‘i Creole has words from Portuguese and other languages: malasada babooz lihing mui char siu adobo

‘kind of doughnut’ (Portuguese) ‘idiot’ (Portuguese babosa ‘stupid, simpleton’) ‘dried sour plum’ (Chinese languages) ‘barbequed pork’ (Chinese languages) ‘Filipino way of cooking’ (Filipino languages)

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bago-ong kimchee lavalava kaukau

739

‘Filipino fermented fish sauce’ (Tagalog) ‘Korean spicy pickled cabbage’ (Korean) ‘sarong’ (Samoan) ‘food’ (from Chinese Pidgin English chowchow)

Finally, there are some compounds, blends, and expressions made up of words from English and other languages. Example include: haolefied onolicious hanabata hele on hulihuli chicken kalua pig kukui nuts poi dog chawan cut daikon legs buta kaukau

3.

‘become like a white person’ (Hawaiian haole ‘foreigner’) ‘delicious’ (Hawaiian ‘ono ‘delicious’) ‘snot’ (Japanese hana ‘nose’, bata from English butter) ‘move on’ (Hawaiian hele ‘go, come, move’) ‘chicken barbecued on a spit’ (Hawaiian huli ‘to turn’) ‘pig baked in an underground oven’ (Hawaiian kalua ‘bake in ground oven’) ‘candlenuts’ (Hawaiian kukui ‘candlenut tree’) ‘mixed breed dog’ (Hawaiian poi ‘pounded taro’) ‘haircut shaped like an inverted rice bowl’ (Japanese chawan ‘rice bowl’) ‘white, short and fat legs’ (Japanese daikon ‘a kind of turnip’) ‘pig slop’ (Japanese buta ‘pig’, Hawai‘i Creole kaukau ‘food’)

Phonemic contrasts and phonetic realizations

Hawai‘i Creole phonology has been studied in greatest detail by Carol Odo (1975, 1977; Bickerton and Odo 1976), and some of the analyses below are based on her work. 3.1.

Vowels

3.1.1. Basilectal Hawai‘i Creole The typical vowels of basilectal Hawai‘i Creole are given in Table 1, and those that differ from General American English are described below. The keywords used by Wells (1982) are employed here, except when a particular word is not found in basilectal Hawai‘i Creole. In such cases, an alternative with the same vowel quality that is found in the language is given (with Wells’ word following in brackets).

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Table 1.

Typical vowels of basilectal Hawai‘i Creole

FIT [KIT]

i

FACE

eI ~ e

SQUARE

eA

DRESS

Q3 ~ E

PALM

A

START

A

TRAP

Q3

THOUGHT

ç

NORTH

ç

LOT

ç

GOAT

oU ~ o

FORCE

ç

STUFF [STRUT]

A~√

GOOSE

u

CURE

uA

FOOT

u

PRICE

AI

happY

i

ASK [BATH]

Q3

CHOICE

oI ~ çI

lettER

A

COUGH [CLOTH] ç

MOUTH

AU

horsES

e

NEAR

iA

commA

A

NURSE

Œr

LEAVE [FLEECE] i > ij FIT [KIT] What is [I] in English is usually raised and slightly tensed in basilectal Hawai‘i Creole, especially in monosyllabic words and stressed syllables, so that for basilectal speakers fit and feet have the same pronunciation. DRESS

[Q3] may be raised to [E] in all environments. STUFF [STRUT]

Variation between [A] and [√] is context-free and unconditioned. For most basilectal speakers, but and baht (the unit of Thai currency) would be pronounced the same. FOOT

What is [U] in English is usually raised and slightly tensed, especially in monosyllabic words and stressed syllables, so that for most basilectal speakers look and Luke have the same pronunciation. NURSE

The R-coloured vowel [Œr] is found only in monosyllabic words or stressed syllables (see section 3.2.3. below). LEAVE [FLEECE]

[i] is laxer than in English. Some speakers, especially those affected by English, may lengthen or diphthongize [i]. FACE

[eI] is usually realized as [e] word internally before a voiceless consonant, as in [mek] ‘make’, and word-finally, such as [de] ‘day’.

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GOAT

[oU] may be realized as [o] especially at the end of a word, such as know [no], or preceding [m], as in [kHom] ‘comb’ and [homwŒ®k] ‘homework’. NEAR, SQUARE

What is post-vocalic R in word-final position in varieties of American English is syllabified as [A] after /i/ and /e/. START

Basilectal Hawai‘i Creole does not have R-coloured vowels, except for [Œ®] (see section 3.2.3. below). NORTH, FORCE

The difference between the vowel in these two items found in General American English is neutralized in Hawai‘i Creole as [ç] (without the post-vocalic R) in monosyllabic words and stressed syllables and as [o] in unstressed syllables (see section 3.2.3.). CURE

Post-vocalic R is syllabified as [A] after [U] in word-final position. lettER

What is [´r] (= [‘]) in General American English is [A] in basilectal Hawai‘i Creole in open unstressed syllables. horsES

What is schwa [´] in closed syllables in most varieties of English is [e] in basilectal Hawai‘i Creole. commA

English schwa [´] in open syllables is [A] in basilectal Hawai‘i Creole. In summary, basilectal Hawai‘i Creole speakers normally have a seven-vowel system: /i/

/u/ /e/

/o/ /Q/

/A/

/ç/

/i/ ranges from a raised relatively tense [I] to a slightly lax [i] and /u/ from a relatively raised and tense [U] to a slightly lax [u]; /A/ ranges from [A] to [√]. The following diphthongs are also present: /eI/, /AU/, /AI/, /oI/ and /oU/. Basilectal Hawai‘i Creole has only one R-coloured vowel: /Œr/, occurring only in stressed syllables.

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3.1.2. Mesolectal Hawai‘i Creole In mesolectal varieties, the distinctive basilectal vowels vary with the corresponding vowels in General American English. The exceptions are that the raising and tensing of [I] and [U] is generally avoided (since it is a salient marker of basilectal speech). Thus, for speakers of mesolectal and acrolectal varieties, /i/, /I/, /u/ and /U/ are separate phonemes. The typical mesolectal vowels are shown in Table 2, with further discussion below. Table 2. Typical vowels of mesolectal Hawai‘i Creole FIT [KIT]

I

FACE

eI ~ e

SQUARE eA ~ er

DRESS

E ~ Q3

PALM

A

START

A ~ Ar

TRAP

Q3 ~ Q

THOUGHT

ç>Å

NORTH

ç ~ or

LOT

ç ~ A > Å≈ GOAT

oU ~ o

FORCE

ç ~ or

GOOSE

u

CURE

uA ~ ur

STUFF [STRUT] A ~ √ FOOT

U

PRICE

AI

happY

i

ASK [BATH]

Q3 ~ Q

CHOICE

oI ~ çI

lettER

A ~ ´r = [‘]

MOUTH

AU

horsES

e~´ ~I

NEAR

iA ~ ir

commA

A~´

COUGH [CLOTH] ç > Å≈ NURSE

Œr

LEAVE [FLEECE] i > ij

Many varieties of American English are spoken in Hawai‘i. For Hawai‘i Creole speakers who speak varieties with the THOUGHT-LOT merger, the distinctions in the vowels in LOT, COUGH [CLOTH] and [THOUGHT] are neutralized, and the vowel is pronounced as [Å] which may vary with [ç]. Because of this factor, there is some intra- and inter-speaker variation in the pronunciation of certain lexical items ([A] vs. [Å] or [ç]): for example, in job, stop, dock, problem and model (Odo 1977). Because of the fact that [√] in STUFF [STRUT] is still pronounced as [A] by some mesolectal speakers, there are some speakers who pronounce cot and caught the same [kHçt] or [kHÅt] in contrast with cut [kHAt], and others who pronounce cot and cut the same [kHAt] in contrast with caught [kHçt]. 3.2.

Consonants

The consonants of both basilectal and mesolectal Hawai‘i Creole are basically the same as those of General American English. However, there are a few differences, and these are discussed below.

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3.2.1. Stops The Hawai‘i Creole voiceless stops differ from those of General American English in some phonetic realizations. First, like English, voiceless stops are aspirated when they occur at the beginning of a syllable with primary stress, but unlike English they may be aspirated in other syllables as well, for example [*mAkHet] ‘market’ and [»kHAtHen] ‘carton’ (see section 6.1.). Second, voiceless stops that occur at the end of a word or at the end of a syllable followed by a consonant may be unreleased or glottalized, that is, pronounced with both oral articulation and glottal closure. In rapid speech [t] in this position may become a glottal stop, e.g. [nA/] ‘not’. Third, /t/ and /d/ are palatalized before /r/: [tSri] ‘tree’, [dZrAI] ‘dry’. Finally, /t/ and /d/ are often used in place of what are /T/ and /D/ respectively in General American English (see below). Like General American English, /t/ and /d/ are flapped intervocalically in an unstressed syllable in normal speech, as in [miRiN] ‘meeting’ and [bARi] ‘body’. However, some flaps occur in Hawai‘i Creole where they are not found in General American English because of some of the differences in realizations described above, for example [wIRAUt] ‘without’ (because of /T/ in place of /t/) and [poRogi] ‘Portuguese’ because of /ç/ in place of /çr/. 3.2.2. Fricatives With regard to TH, General American English /T/ occurs as [T] and [t] or [tH] in free variation in basilectal Hawai‘i Creole, and /D/ as [D] and [d], for example: [tHçt] ‘thought’, [wit] ‘with’ and [dQt] ‘that’, [AdA] ‘other’. For two items, [f] has replaced [D]: [bŒrfde] ‘birthday’ and [beIf] ‘bathe’. In mesolectal varieties, [T] and [D] are more frequent. Some speakers lack [Z] in their phonemic inventory and substitute /dZ/ as in [medZA] ‘measure’. /s/ is often palatalized before both /tS/ and /r/: [StSrit] ‘street’, [groSri] ‘grocery’. /v/ may be deleted between voiced sounds: [eritiN] ‘everything’, [neA] ‘never’, [oA] ‘over’. 3.2.3. Liquids Post-vocalic R /r/ as the coda of a syllable is generally not found in basilectal Hawai‘i Creole. What is /Ar/ in General American English is realized as [A], for example in [hAd] ‘hard’, [pAkiN] ‘parking’; /Er/ is realized as [e] when followed by another sound: [sked] ‘scared’; /çr/ and /or/ are realized as [ç] in stressed syllables and [o] in unstressed syllables, e.g. [»fçtSen] ‘fortune’ vs. [pHo»tSreI] ‘portray’. (The

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exceptions are the grammatical morphemes [fo] and [mo] derived from for and more.) In word-final position, what is post-vocalic R in other varieties is syllabified as [A] in basilectal Hawai‘i Creole after /i/, /u/, /o/, /AI/ and /e/. Consider the examples [diA] ‘deer’, [puA] ‘poor’, [stoA] ‘store’, [fAIA] ‘fire’, [wQlfeA] ‘welfare’. As mentioned above, the only post-vocalic R or R-coloured vowel in Hawai‘i Creole is [Œr], and it is found only in stressed syllables: [bŒrd] ‘bird’, [ri»tŒrn] ‘return’. In unstressed syllables, what is [Œr] or [´r] in other varieties is realized as [e] when followed by another sound and as [A] at the end of a word: [»rAbet] ‘Robert’, [»reked] ‘record (noun)’, [»pHepA] ‘paper’, [»fiNgA] ‘finger’. L vocalization /l/ is generally “dark” or velar […], especially in syllable codas. Syllabic /l/ in English is often replaced by [o] in the basilect, for instance in [tS®Abo] ‘trouble’, [Qpo] ‘apple’, [pHipo] ‘people’. Preconsonantal /l/ may become [o], [U] or [u] – for example: [meok] ‘milk’, [hQup] ’help’. In some words, there is variation, such as [rio] ~ [riu] ~ [ril] ‘real’.

3.2.4. Other consonants Hawai‘i Creole also has the flap [R] as a separate phoneme, found in Japanese borrowings, such as [kARAte] ‘karate’ and [kARAoke] ‘karaoke’. The /R/ phoneme can be shown to contrast with /l/ in two Hawai‘i Creole loanwords: [kARAI] ‘spicy hot’ (from Japanese) and [kAlAI] ‘hoeing’ (from Hawaiian). Hawai‘i Creole has the additional affricate /ts/ as well, occurring in word-initial position, as in [tsunAmi] ‘tidal wave’ and [tsuRu] ‘crane made from folded paper’. Many speakers of Hawai‘i Creole also use the glottal stop [/] in words derived from Hawaiian, for example in [kAmA/AInA] ‘person born in Hawai‘i or long term resident’ and [ni/ihAU] ‘Ni‘ihau’ (an island in the Hawaiian group).

4.

Orthography

There is no standard orthography for Hawai‘i Creole. In both popular literature and the New Testament translation, various etymological orthographies are used, based on the conventional spelling of English. An autonomous phonemic orthography, designed by Carol Odo (Bickerton and Odo 1976), is normally used by linguists, and on rare occasions in other contexts, such as in the printed program of the “Wat, Bada yu?” conference held in 1999 on “Hawai‘i Creole, local identities and strategies for multicultural learning”. (Also, Lee Tonouchi uses the Odo

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orthography in one short story in his book Da Word). The Odo orthography will also be used for the remainder of this chapter. In the Odo orthography, the consonants are represented by their IPA equivalents except for the following: /N/ /S/ /Z/ /tS/ /dZ/ /j/ /R/ ///

ng sh zh ch j y D ‘

The simple vowels, diphthongs and the R-coloured vowel are represented by the following orthographic symbols: /i/ /e/ /Q/ /A/ /u/ /o/ /ç/ /eI/ /AU/ /AI/ /oI/ /oU/ /Œr/

5.

i e æ (or ae or Ae) a or A u o aw ei au or Au ai or Ai oi ou r

Phonotactics

Hawai‘i Creole has phonotactics similar to those of English, with the exception of final consonant clusters. a) Where the final consonant clusters /pt/, /kt/, /ft/, /st/, /ld/ and /nd/ are found in English, the final stop (/t/ or /d/) is absent in basilectal Hawai‘i Creole, for example: raep /rQp/ ‘wrapped’, aek /Qk/ ‘act’, sawf /sçf/ ‘soft’, laes /lQs/ ‘last’, kol /kol/ ‘cold’, spen /spen/ ‘spend’. b) In the final consonant clusters /ts/, /ks/ and /dz/, the stop may be absent: wats /wAts/ ~ /wAs/ ‘what’s’, foks /foks/ ~ /fos/ ‘folks’, kidz /kidz/ ~ /kiz/ ‘kids’.

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c) In the clusters /fr/ and /pr/, the /r/ is deleted if there is an /r/ in the onset of the next syllable: pograem /pogrQm/ ‘program’, fashchreited /fASchreIted/ ‘frustrated’, laibaeri /lAIbQri/ ‘library’.

6.

Prosodic features

6.1.

Stress

In Hawai‘i Creole, morphologically simple words of two syllables derived from English usually have primary stress on the same syllable as in English. However, there are some exceptions, as illustrated by the following examples (with the stressed syllable in Hawai‘i Creole and in the English equivalent both shown in bold): beisbawl /beIs»bçl/ ‘baseball’, chapstik /tSAp»stik/ ‘chopstick’, hedeik / hed»eIk/ ‘headache’, dedlain /dQd»lAIn/ ‘deadline’ (Odo 1975: 16). Of words that have more than two syllables, there are many words in Hawai‘i Creole which have primary stress on a different syllable from that in English. This is especially true of English words in which the first syllable is stressed, such as words ending in -ary, -ony or -ory (Bickerton and Odo 1976: 50). Take, for example, dikshanaeri /dikSA»nQri/ ‘dictionary’, inventawri /invQn»tçri/ ‘inventory’, saeramoni /sQrA»moni/ ‘ceremony’. Other examples are: harakein /hArA»keIn/ ‘hurricane’, aelkahawl /QlkA»hçl/ ‘alcohol’, shchrawbæri /StSrç»bQri/ ‘strawberry’, haspitol /hAs»pitol/ ‘hospital’, and kaetalawg /kQta»lçg/ ‘catalogue’. Another way in which Hawai‘i Creole differs from English, at least in the basilectal and mesolectal varieties, is that syllables that do not have primary stress receive slightly more stress than in English. A syllable that has tertiary stress in English may have secondary stress in Hawai‘i Creole. So for example, one may hear the following pronunciations: /»beI«bi/ ‘baby’, /»bil«diN/ ‘building’ (Odo 1975: 15). Also, as mentioned above, vowels in syllables without primary or secondary stress are not necessarily reduced to schwa, but rather the full vowel is used. This also leads to syllables being given secondary stress in Hawai‘i Creole when they are unstressed or given tertiary stress in English. This secondary stress may also result in voiceless stops being aspirated where there is no aspiration in English, e.g. Jæpæniz [«dZQ«pHQ»niz] ‘Japanese’, kiten [»kHi«tHen] ‘kitten’, chikin [»tSHi«kHin] ‘chicken’. 6.2.

Speech rhythm

The combination of full vowels rather than schwa and secondary stress in nonprimary-stressed syllables means that syllables in Hawai‘i Creole tend to have more equal prominence in terms of loudness and duration than syllables in English. There is also greater stress than in English on function words, such as articles,

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747

prepositions, modals, and preverbal tense and aspect markers. Therefore, Hawai‘i Creole is usually classified as a syllable-timed language, rather than a stress-timed language such as English (Vanderslice and Pierson 1967). At the same time, syllables or words may be extended or drawled for emphasis, as in (7): (7)

a. E, yu wen go si da gem yestade? Waz ri::l gu:::d, bra. (Eh, you wen go see da game yesterday? Was re::al goo:::d, brah!) ‘Hey, did you go see the game yesterday? It was really good.’

6.3.

Pitch and register

The characteristic range of pitch in Hawai‘i Creole is wider than in English, especially with regard to higher pitch. With regard to voice quality, there are two different registers that are common features of the language. Firstly, the use of raspy voice in drawled syllables or words (mentioned above) or in short periods of extended speech functions as a kind of intensifier or as a marker of “heavy” Hawai‘i Creole and is used more commonly by men than women. Secondly, the use of the upper levels of the range of Hawai‘i Creole pitch that some researchers have said is a marker of female speech. 6.4.

Intonation

One of the most striking differences between Hawai‘i Creole and varieties of English is in the intonation of yes-no questions. In most varieties of American English, for example, the pattern is rising, starting with mid pitch and finishing with high pitch. But in Hawai‘i Creole, the pattern is falling, starting with high pitch and dropping to low pitch in the last syllable and then a terminal steadying or slight rise: (8)

3

E, yu wan laif 1gad?1 ‘Are you a life guard?’

Tag questions with ye [jQ], e [/E], ha [hA] and no are very common in Hawai‘i Creole. At the end of a sentence, they usually have high pitch with terminal rise. Another tag is also used: o wat (‘or what’). This is added to the end of a statement without pausing, and given low pitch and stress: (9)

2

Yu laik go 3Maui 1o wat?1 ‘Do you want to go to Maui or what?’

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7.

Current issues

The last detailed research into Hawai‘i Creole phonology was carried out in the 1970s (Odo 1975; Bickerton and Odo 1976). While the findings still appear to apply to modern basilectal speakers, it is obvious that more up-to-date data collection and phonological analysis are a top priority. Such research will also throw light on some important questions concerning decreolization in the language. It is generally believed that with more widespread education and bilingualism in English, Hawai‘i Creole has been changing to become more like English. This is certainly true in some grammatical constructions – for example, in the more widespread use of is and was as copulas (rather than zero copula). However, little is known about the extent to which various aspects of basilectal phonology have been changing in the direction of English. Another area for further research is the extent of the influence of other languages on the phonology of Hawai‘i Creole. Suggestions have been made that the unreleased final consonants are a result of the influence of Chinese languages, and that the vowel system of basilectal Hawai‘i Creole and the sentence level intonation in questions are a result of the influence of Hawaiian or Portuguese. But the validity of these suggestions has yet to be examined.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Bickerton, Derek and Carol Odo 1976 Change and Variation in Hawaiian English. Volume 1: General Phonology and Pidgin Syntax. Honolulu: Social Sciences and Linguistics Institute, University of Hawaii. Masuda, Hirokuni 2000 The Genesis of Discourse Grammar: Universals and Substrata in Guyanese, Hawaii Creole, and Japanese. Frankfurt/New York: Lang. Matthews, Stephen and Virginia Yip 1994 Cantonese: A Comprehensive Grammar. London/New York: Routledge. Odo, Carol 1975 Phonological processes in the English dialect of Hawaii. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Hawaii, Honolulu. 1977 Phonological representations in Hawaiian English. University of Hawaii Working Papers in Linguistics 9: 77−85. Reinecke, John 1969 Language and Dialect in Hawaii: A Sociolinguistic History to 1935. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press.

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Roberts, Sarah J. 2000 Nativization and genesis of Hawaiian creole. In: John H. McWhorter (ed.), Language Change and Language Contact in Pidgins and Creoles, 257−300. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Sato, Charlene J. 1989 A nonstandard approach to standard English. TESOL Quarterly 23: 259−282. 1991 Sociolinguistic variation and attitudes in Hawaii. In: Cheshire (ed.), 647−663. Siegel, Jeff 2000 Substrate influence in Hawai‘i Creole English. Language in Society 29: 197−236. Tonouchi, Lee 2001 Da Word. Honolulu: Bamboo Ridge Press. Vanderslice, Ralph and Laura Shun Pierson 1967 Prosodic features of Hawaiian English. Quarterly Journal of Speech 53: 156−166.

Fiji English: phonology* Jan Tent and France Mugler

1.

Introduction

Fiji is a group of over 300 islands in the southern Pacific Ocean, straddling the International Date Line. The islands were first settled about 3,000 years ago by speakers of Austronesian languages whose ancestors had come from South-East Asia, sweeping through Melanesia to the eastern islands of Polynesia. Sporadic contact with Europeans initiated through exploration was followed by the arrival of marooned sailors and deserters. Towards the beginning of the nineteenth century came sundry beachcombers, traders in sandalwood and bêche-de-mer (seacucumber). They were followed in the 1830s by missionaries, and in the next three decades by land-hungry settlers from nearby Australia and New Zealand on whose plantations worked Pacific island labourers recruited through blackbirding (kidnapping). In 1874 a group of Fijian chiefs, through a Deed of Cession, signed over the Fiji islands to the British. The colony had to pay for itself and about 60,000 indentured labourers were brought from India between 1879 and 1916 to work on plantations, mostly of sugarcane. In 1920 all indenture contracts expired and most Indians stayed on to farm small land parcels leased from Fijian landowners, or ventured into trades or small businesses. Fiji became independent in 1970 and has since suffered two major coups d’état, in 1987 and again in 2000. Fiji has a population of nearly 800,000, about 51% of whom are indigenous Fijians and 44% Indo-Fijians (or ‘Fiji Indians’). The remainder comprise small groups of other Pacific islanders, Chinese, ‘Europeans’ (i.e. Caucasians or ‘Whites’) and ‘part-Europeans’ (i.e. people of mixed Fijian and European descent). In spite of its small population, Fiji has a rich mix of languages and cultures. Fijian is spoken not only by indigenous Fijians but also by many partEuropeans, Chinese, Rotumans and other Pacific islanders. The major language among Indo-Fijians is Fiji Hindi (or Fiji Baat), a koiné (an admixture of related dialects) which developed during the indenture period from the contact between the various dialects of Hindi spoken by most of the labourers from North India. Dravidian languages such as Tamil, Telugu and Malayalam are spoken by small and ever dwindling numbers of descendants of labourers from South India, while Gujarati and Punjabi were introduced after indenture by free migrants. There are also small groups of speakers of Rotuman, Kiribati, Tuvaluan and other Pacific languages, as well as several Chinese languages and dialects.

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The first tokens of presence of English in Fiji were probably borrowings introduced into Fijian by Tongans, who had a long history of trade with Fiji and had contact with English speakers earlier. Beachcombers and traders, who often became fluent in Fijian, were another vector for borrowings, while Methodist missionaries introduced religious terms, although they evangelised in Fijian. After Cession, English became the working language of the colonial administration. Catholic schools spearheaded the use of English in education and by the 1890s it had spread to all schools, including those that Indians had to establish themselves for their children. In the 1930s the promotion of English was spurred by the colonial authorities’ belief that a “neutral” lingua franca or a “link/bridging” language was needed to allow Fijians and Indo-Fijians to live together in harmony. English was seen as the appropriate, if not the only, language to fulfil that role. The local languages were considered linguistically deficient and unable to fill this need, as shown by this pronouncement about Fijian by Cyril Cato, a prominent educator at the time: In a country where many races and languages mingle as they do in Fiji, a common language is essential. Fijian can never become this, for its poverty of ideas and expressions is such that it cannot meet the modern demands upon such a language (cited in Geraghty 1984: 41).

During this time, Fiji’s education system came under the control of the New Zealand education authorities. The influx of New Zealand teachers meant that English had to be the sole medium of instruction, as few were prepared to learn Fijian or Hindi. English is now the sole official medium of instruction after the first three years of primary school, although code switching is frequent both in the classroom and on the playground. English is a second language for nearly all Fiji Islanders, with speakers’ proficiency ranging from rudimentary to very high. Only 1% to 3% of the population speak English as their first language. Nevertheless, English has a high profile and fairly widespread use, especially in urban areas. Thanks to its colonial past, English remains an official language, along with Fijian and Hindi. While the 1997 Constitution states that the three languages “have equal status”, English prevails in most official spheres. In Parliament, for instance, it is the language of debate and record, although members of both Houses occasionally speak in Fijian or Hindi. English also predominates in the media, particularly on television and now online, in print, and to a lesser extent, on the radio. English has also been the major medium of expression in literature so far. Another major role of English in Fiji is as a lingua franca, particularly between native speakers of Fijian and of Fiji Hindi, although significant numbers of both groups know each other’s language or a pidginised variety thereof. The variety of English that operates as the official reference point in Fiji is an external standard. Traditionally it was British English, which continues to be seen by many speakers as the model to aspire to, although the local varieties which ap-

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proximate to standard metropolitan varieties of English have incorporated features from Australian, New Zealand and, increasingly, American English. English in Fiji is characterised by a great deal of variation, which can be ascribed to two major factors: differences in exposure through education and the media, and the speaker’s first language. Someone from a low socio-economic group or living in a rural area or an outer island will typically hear and read far less English – and have far less need to use it – than a middle-class urban professional. As for the first language of English users, the two major groups, native speakers of Fijian and of Fiji Hindi, are of nearly equal size. The influence of the first language is most noticeable in the phonology of Fiji English, particularly in what is sometimes called the “basilect” (the variety most removed from the norm), where one can arguably distinguish between “Fijian English” and “Indo-Fijian English”. Differences in grammar and vocabulary are not nearly as great, and most borrowings from Fijian and Fiji Hindi are common to Fijian and Indo-Fijian speakers of English. Differences between the two groups shade off at the “acrolectal” (prestige) end of the continuum, but while the speech of many “educated”’ people tends to approximate a metropolitan standard, the influence of the first language is to some extent independent of education and exposure. Siegel (1989, 1991) recognises that ‘Fiji English’ constitutes a continuum, and notes that it is in the basilect that most of the distinctive features are found. Lynch and Mugler (1999) observe that within Fiji, the term tends to refer only to the basilectal end of the spectrum, perhaps because only that lect is recognised as distinctive. The following citation confirms this: “Their English [that of pupils at a local primary school] is perfect too. They don’t speak that Fijian English urban students use: ‘us gang, me ga, trues up.’ I’m very proud of that,” Mr X [head teacher] said. (Fiji Times, 9/7/1997)

Kelly (1975), who pioneered the study of Fiji English with recordings of schoolgirls, refers to this lect as “the dialect”, Moag and Moag (1977) as “Colloquial Fiji English”, Geraghty (1975, 1977, 1984, 1997) as “Fiji Pidgin English”, and Siegel (1986, 1987, 1989, 1991) as “Basilectal Fiji English”. Kelly’s “dialect” is too vague, while Geraghty’s “Fiji Pidgin English” is inaccurate, since the lect exhibits only a few of the lexical and grammatical features of pidgins in general or of Melanesian Pidgin English in particular. Moreover, there is no historical evidence that the lect was ever a stable pidgin (Siegel 1987: 237–238). Moag and Moag’s “Colloquial Fiji English” is too general, as it could be applied to a wide range of lects within the Fiji English spectrum. Siegel’s “Basilectal Fiji English” is probably the most accurate but its negative connotation is unfortunate. Siegel (1987: 238) suggests that the lect can be classified as a “creoloid” (i.e. a language which exhibits creole-like features although it did not develop from a pidgin) akin to Colloquial or Basilectal Singapore English, since: – it displays some creole-like grammatical features;

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– it shows “substratum” influences, mostly from Fijian and Fiji Hindi; – English (which functions as the standard, superordinate language) is one of the official languages of Fiji; and – it is used for most (but certainly not all) communication between speakers of different native languages Perhaps the most accurate descriptive label for the English of Fiji would be “Fiji Varieties/Variants of English”. However, for the sake of simplicity, we shall continue to use the expression “Fiji English” as a cover term, in line with Siegel (1989). However, instead of his “Basilectal Fiji English”, we have adopted the term “Pure Fiji English” (after Fox 2003) to refer to the variety most heavily influenced by the substratum languages, and “Modified Fiji English” for the lects which most approximate standard metropolitan English (both at the phonological and morpho-syntactic levels), while still retaining some distinctive local features. As for variation across speakers of different first languages, the most readily identifiable and widespread varieties are “Fijian Fiji English” and “Indo-Fijian Fiji English”. The Pure Fiji English spoken by part-Europeans and Fijians is essentially a single variety. This is not surprising, since part-Europeans usually identify socially, culturally and ethnically with the Fijian community. Since Independence, part-Europeans have shifted away from their historical identification with colonial European heritage and have moved towards reclaiming their Fijian roots. Part-European speakers of Modified Fiji English, however, still tend to align themselves with the European community, and linguistic features of their English reflect this social association, although many are bi-dialectal in the Pure and Modified varieties. Fiji English is also spoken by Chinese and part-Chinese, Rotumans and other small Pacific islander groups, with each variety having its distinctive features, although their Fiji English tends to be closer to the Fijian than the Indo-Fijian variety. Certain features of Fiji English are heard in the speech of most Fiji Islanders, regardless of their first language, while others are more specifically characteristic of Fijian and Indo-Fijian Fiji English. Numerous features are also found in the colloquial varieties of English spoken in countries where it is the first language of the majority, while others also exist in other parts of the world where English is a second language, and still others are characteristic of pidgins or creoles. This last group may have developed independently, perhaps as a result of universal tendencies in a restricted language environment. They could be remnants of Melanesian Pidgin English introduced to Fiji by labourers on plantations in the nineteenth century (see Siegel 1987), or both. Since English is a second (sometimes a third) language for nearly all Fiji Islanders, there is considerable phonological transfer from L1, at both the segmental and suprasegmental levels. The degree of transfer varies substantially, with speakers of Pure Fiji English usually exhibiting the highest degree of transfer. Detailed phonological descriptions of all varieties of Fiji English are beyond our scope,

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and we shall concentrate on the key characteristics of Pure Fiji English as spoken by Fijians and Indo-Fijians. Even though they share a number of phonological features, these lects are nevertheless still phonologically quite distinct at the Pure Fiji English end of the spectrum. At the Modified end, however, these differences are much less pronounced and the two varieties may at times be almost indistinguishable. Our descriptions are based on personal observation, over 80 hours of recorded interviews, written and printed pronunciation spellings (see Tent 2000), previously published analyses of Fiji English (particularly Kelly 1975), and the recordings made for this volume. Before each description, brief outlines of the phonologies of Fijian and Fiji Hindi are provided.

2.

Pure Fiji English (Fijian and part-European speakers)

In order to understand the phonology of the Fijian and part-European variety of Pure Fiji English phonology a brief overview of the phonology of Fijian needs to be considered. The phonology of Fijian has been described in detail by Geraghty (1983) and Schütz (1985). The consonant and vowel phonemes of Fijian are presented in Figures 1 and 2 respectively. Note that: – Symbols in parentheses are found in English loanwords. – Vowel length is phonemic. – The diphthongs are /ai/, /ei/, /oi/, /ao/, /iu/, /eu/, /au/ and /ou/.

9

Figure 1.

The consonant phonemes of Fijian

Fiji English: phonology

Figure 2.

755

The vowel phonemes of Fijian

The following are the most common phonological features of the Pure Fiji English spoken by Fijians and part-Europeans. Many of these may be heard in the accompanying recordings on the CD-ROM. 2.1.

Consonants

Stops

1. Voiceless stops are unaspirated, e.g. pan > [p=
n], talk [t=çk], corner [k=na]. 2. Stops in word final position, especially voiceless stops, are often unreleased, e.g. like that > [laik8 d
t8]. 3. In word final position, voiced stops often are voiceless, e.g. scared > [sket], rob > [rÅp], leg > [lek]. 4. Most speakers have /t/ in think > [tik], three > [tri], through > [tru], bath > [bat], etc. and [d] in this > [dis], brother > [brad], breathe > [brid], etc., despite Fijian having //. 5. Sometimes, /d/ is palatalised before [ju], e.g. during > [d9uri]. 6. Only in the Purest of Fiji English is /b/ is prenasalised, e.g. bye > [mbai]. Fricatives 1. Some speakers have only one apico-dental fricative, the voiced //, e.g. this > [is], thanks > [
ks]. 2. Similarly, while some speakers have /:/ in initial and medial position for very > [:eri], never > [ne:a], most have /f/ in final position for five > [faif], and cave > [kef]. 3. Fijian has only one sibilant, the voiceless post-alveolar /s/, a sound intermediate between the /s/ and // of Standard English. Most commonly, the // of Standard English is realised as /s/ as in: sure > [su] and insure > [insu], pollution > [pÅlusen], English > [ilis], British > [britis], shock > [sÅk], parachute > [parsut]. On the other hand, the grooved palato-alveolar fricative [] also often occurs, particularly in words that contain two or more voiceless sibilants, e.g. socialising > [olaisin], associate [
oi
t]. 4. Standard English words containing the voiced post-alveolar fricative //, such as measure, confusion and usual, are often realised as [me ~ mez], [kÅnfjuen ~ kÅnfjuzen], [juul ~ juzul] respectively.

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5. Syllable final /z/ is nearly always [s], e.g. cruise > [krus], noise > [noes], including the plural and third person singular morphemes, e.g. years > [jis], boys > [boes], cleans > [klins]. This feature, along with the devoicing of voiced stops described above (3.), suggests that Pure Fiji English may have a general devoicing rule for these consonants in final position. Affricates We only find [ts] in Pure Fiji English, e.g. touch > [tats], much [mats], each > [its], change > [tsents], beach > [bits], lunch > [lants], future > [fjuts], teacher [tits], etc., and occasionally [t] or [dz], e.g. large > [lat], ginger > [dzindz]. Approximants 1. Post-vocalic /l/ is always ‘clear’ (i.e. non-velarised), e.g. sell > [sel]. 2. /r/ is trilled or flapped. 3. /j/ and /w/ are weakly articulated. Consonant clusters 1. For many speakers, words which include consonant clusters in Standard English are often articulated in Pure Fiji English with epenthetic vowels, after the Fijian pattern of nativising English loanwords, e.g. sitoa < ‘store’, kirimu < ‘cream’ (both of which have become fully nativised into Fijian, but also occur in Pure Fiji English), as well as Burns Philp > [filp], film > [film]. 2. On the other hand, many words may end with a single consonant, e.g. toast > [tos], around > [ran], friend > [fren], don’t > [don], Marist High > [maris hai], district > [distrik]. However, as in other varieties of English, final /-ks/ does occur, particularly in the metathesis of the consonant cluster /-sk-/ as in ask > [aks]. Figure 3 shows the consonant phonemes of Pure Fijian Fiji English with their most common phonetic realisations. 2.2.

Monophthongs and diphthongs

At the phonemic level, Pure Fijian English has a five vowel system, based on Fijian. In addition, the length and quality distinctions of standard varieties of English are neutralised. Most of the monophthongs of Pure Fiji English are tense but short, as opposed to Standard English tense/long versus lax/short. Examples include such items as: reach and rich > [rits]; beach and bitch > [bits]; march and much > [mats]; port and pot > [pÅt], sport and spot > [spÅt], caught/court and cot > [kÅt] (e.g. basketball court > [bask
tbÅl kÅt]); fool and full > [ful]; and cloak and clock > [klÅk].

Fiji English: phonology

Figure 3.

757

The consonant phonemes of Pure Fijian Fiji English and their common phonetic realisations

Evidence for this neutralisation of length and quality is reflected in frequent pronunciation spellings in the local tabloids: (1)

a. Situations wanted: Baby seater available [...]. (Fiji Times, 23/2/1995) b. A wife driving from a back-sit is comparable to a husband cooking from the dining room table. (Daily Post, 1/6/1999) c. Naitasiri North’s sensational victory over giant Nadi upset the applecut. (Daily Post, 4/9/1995) d. His face was a bit swollen and he also spotted a black eye. (Daily Post, 8/5/1995) e. The roads of Labasa ... portholes are everywhere. (Fiji Times, 19/5/1999) f. She [a sex worker] told the Sun that most of her clients were top-class businessmen and police officers. “It is surprising that most of my customers are big shorts of our country.” (Fiji Sun, 4/12/1999) g. Mr T. told prison offices to provide V. with 10 fullscap pages and a pen [...] (Fiji Times, 9/6/1999)

Fijian has eight diphthongs (/ai/, /ei/, /oi/, /ao/, /iu/, /eu/, /au/, /ou/), five of which (/ai/, /ei/, /oi/, /au/ and /ou/) are similar to the diphthongs of standard metropolitan English, and are often realised in Pure Fiji English as such. Nevertheless, they are sometimes instead realised as monophthongs by many speakers, especially the FACE, CHOICE and GOAT vowels (see below). Fijian does not have any centring

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diphthongs like those in Standard English NEAR, SQUARE and CURE. These are realised in Pure Fiji English as monophthongs or falling diphthongs (see below). The following are descriptions of the most common variants of the Pure Fiji English vowels as articulated by Fijians. As stated above, there is considerable variation within this lect due to the speaker’s place of residence (largely rural vs. urban), competence as a speaker of Standard English, educational background and general exposure to standard metropolitan English. (Note that the lexical items in parentheses indicate those used in the accompanying recording of the lexical set. It was found that these words were more appropriate for the Fiji context.) KIT (FIT) and FLEECE (REEF) Phonemically the KIT and FLEECE vowels are not distinguished, however, pho-

netically, they are slightly different. The KIT vowel is short, retracted and lowered [i], approximating the position of [], but retaining an [i]-like quality. The FLEECE vowel tends to be a short or for some speakers a half-long [i]. Examples showing the lack of phonemic distinction between these vowels are often found in Fiji’s tabloids: (2)

a. [...]the roof and the air-condition [sic] were leaking, water sipped intothe rooms [...]. (Fiji Times, 25/4/2003) b. Her family was rudely awaken [sic] from its midday slumber as floodwaters sipped into the living room and rose to about 1.5 metres. (Fiji Times, 17/3/2003) c. One year ago since you took your leave To our arms of our God your life to give. The tears we cried, we cried with bliss, For Jehovah God has called His servant in peace. (Fiji Times, 3/3/2003)

DRESS and TRAP (BACK) Similarly, there is no phonemic distinction between the DRESS and TRAP vowels. However, the DRESS vowel is a slightly lowered and short [e], whilst the TRAP vowel tends to be a slightly raised and short [
], e.g. that > [
t], Lami > [l
mi], Nadi > [n
ndi], land > [l
n]. Nevertheless, it is difficult to phonetically distinguish between the DRESS and TRAP vowels in many speakers. The realisation of TRAP as [
] gives rise to the following common spelling pronunciations:

(3)

a. Eight people [...] peddled to safety when a boat they were in ran aground [...] (Fiji Times, 26/2/1987) b. We have no injury worries and the players have slowly recovered from jet-leg. (Daily Post, 29/3/1996)

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c. Residents affected by water cuts in a densely-populated area tempered with water mains. (Fiji Times, 20/1/2003) d. Top scorer for the Veimataqali Imperial was Elex Konrote. (Fiji Times, 20/1/2003) The lack of phonemic distinction between these two vowels is further highlighted by the following example: (4)

Vidiri steps on the paddle and just keeps going, no slowing down. (Daily Post, 10/6/1998)

LOT (POT), CLOTH (OFF), THOUGHT, NORTH and FORCE There is no phonemic distinction between the vowels of LOT and CLOTH. Phonetically, they are nearly identical, i.e. a raised [Å], although LOT is usually extra short. For some speakers, LOT is realised as an extra short and lowered [ç]. As noted above, for many speakers of Pure Fiji English, the LOT vowel is also not phonemically distinct from NORTH and FORCE, thus giving rise to examples such as (1d), (1e), and (1f) above. Although there is some slight phonetic variation between these three vowels, they are virtually identical, and are generally realised as a raised [Å] or a lowered [ç]. In the case of THOUGHT, the vowel also tends to be extra short and may be lengthened somewhat in FORCE [Å]. STRUT (CUT), BATH (GRASS), PALM and START Phonemically these four vowels are the same and are realised as [a]. Phonetically there is some variation: both STRUT and BATH have retracted [a], with BATH tending to be extra short, and PALM and START are both realised simply as [a] or an extra short [a] (especially the PALM vowel). FOOT and GOOSE (LOOSE)

These two vowels tend not to be phonemically distinguished, hence, full and fool are not a minimal pair (see example [1g] above). They are phonetically very similar: the FOOT vowel may be articulated with a raised [o] or lowered [u], whereas GOOSE varies between a lowered and advanced [u] and at times a slightly lengthened [u] (see also 4.3. below). NURSE

This vowel is usually realised as [
] or a retracted [
], e.g. church > [ts
ts], girls > [
ls], turn > [t
n]. Under certain conditions NURSE may also be realised as [Å]. This seems to occur after /w/ as in work > [wÅk]; however, this could be a spelling pronunciation.

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FACE

Although Fijian has the diphthong /ei/, it is not uncommon to find speakers of Pure Fiji English using [e], [e] or [ei] (with a weak and short second target) in FACE, e.g. make > [mek], day > [de], okay > [okei]. The lengthened and diphthongised targets tend to occur in syllable final position. GOAT

Similarly, although Fijian has /ou/, the GOAT vowel tends to be realised with a monophthong – a lowered [o], a lowered and lengthened [o], or [ou] (with a weak and short second target), e.g. don’t > [don], post > [pos]. PRICE

Speakers of Pure Fiji English usually realise the PRICE vowel as the diphthong [ai], though the second target tends to be very short. CHOICE

As with the FACE and GOAT vowels, CHOICE is also generally realised as a monophthong or a diphthong with a weak and short second target: [o], [o] or [oe] where [o] is lowered and the second target of the diphthong does not go as far as [i]. MOUTH MOUTH is articulated with a diphthong, resembling the Fijian /au/. The first target,

[a], is always retracted and quite short, whilst the second target varies between a weakly articulated [o], or a relatively strongly articulated and raised []. NEAR, SQUARE and CURE The centring diphthongs found in Standard English NEAR, SQUARE and CURE all tend to be realised as monophthongs in closed syllables, but falling diphthongs in open syllables. Thus, years > [jis], tears > [tis], scared > [sket], Mary > [meri], insurance > [insurns], during > [d9uri]; beer > [bi], swear > [swe], insure > [insu]. Each diphthong’s second target tends to be an extra short []. There is a lot of variation in the articulation of the CURE vowel, especially in words like tour. This is seen in all other varieties of English as well. In many varieties the diphthong has coalesced into [ç], or is articulated as an [ç ] glide. This extreme variation, or instability, is perhaps because the vowel of CURE is the least frequent of vocalic sounds.

happY

The final vowel of happY is an extra short, retracted and lowered [i]. The vowel still tends to carry a considerably greater degree of stress than in Standard English.

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761

lettER

The final syllable of lettER also receives a considerably greater degree of stress than in Standard English, and is generally realised as []. horsES

This vowel, too, receives a considerable amount of stress, more so than in Standard English, though perhaps not as much as in the lettER and commA vowels. The final element of horsES is commonly realised with an extra short []. commA (VISA)

The most usual articulation of the commA vowel is a lowered and advanced []. Table 1 summarises the most common phonetic realisations of the vowels of Pure Fiji English as articulated by Fijians. Table 1. Phonetic realisations of Pure Fiji English vowels (Fijian speakers) – summary Lexical set

Pure Fiji English (Fijian speakers)

KIT (FIT)

i 

DRESS

e

TRAP (BACK)




LOT (POT)

Å; ~ ç;

STRUT (CUT)

a

FOOT

o ~ u

BATH (GRASS)

a; 

CLOTH (OFF)

Å

NURSE


~


FLEECE (REEF)

i ~ i

FACE

e ~ e ~ ei

PALM

a; ~ a

THOUGHT

Å; ~ ç;

GOAT

o ~ o ~ ou

GOOSE (LOOSE)

u ~ u

PRICE

ai7

CHOICE

o ~ o ~ oe

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Table 1. (continued)

Phonetic realisations of Pure Fiji English vowels (Fijian speakers) – summary

Lexical set

Pure Fiji English (Fijian speakers)

MOUTH

a; o ~ a; 

NEAR

i ~ i7

SQUARE

e ~ e7

START

a7 ~ a

NORTH

Å ~ ç

FORCE

Å ~ Å ~ ç

CURE

u ~  ~ u

happY

i7 

lettER

 ~ a ~ a7

horsES

7

commA (VISA)

 ~ a ~ a7

Figure 4 shows the vowel phonemes of Pure Fijian Fiji English with their most common phonetic realisations.

Figure 4.

2.3.

The vowel phonemes of Pure Fijian Fiji English and their common phonetic realisations

Lexical stress

The rules for stress assignment in Fijian are not entirely agreed upon (see Schütz 1999 for a summary). In many cases lexical stress is predictable in that it always falls on the penultimate mora, i.e. the penultimate syllable, if the vowel in the last syllable is short, and on the first part of the long vowel in the last syllable if the vowel is long. However, this appears to be true only for the last stress in the word, any preceding stress is unpredictable. In words with more than one stress, it is not always clear which is primary and which secondary.

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763

Since in Standard English lexical stress is unpredictable, lexical stress patterns do not coincide with those in either Pure, or sometimes even Modified, Fiji English. Syllables which are unstressed in Standard English are often stressed in Fijian English, while Standard English stressed syllables are often realised in Fijian English with less stress or none. Examples from our data include: cholesterol > [*kÅle+strÅl], amicable > [+
*mikabl]. We found this to be especially the case with words beginning with unstressed con- in Standard English. This element very often receives a primary stress in Fijian English, e.g. considerate > [*kÅn+sidret], continue > [*kÅn+tinu], convinced [*kÅn+vinst]. 2.4.

Syntactic stress

The most conspicuous characteristic of Fijian Fiji English sentence rhythm is that each syllable tends to receive an equal amount of stress (i.e. syllable-timed), with the last syllable (or stress group) being indicated by a fall in pitch. Without having conducted empirical research on Fijian English or Fijian syntactic stress patterns, our observations seem to indicate that sentence rhythm in both languages is very similar if not the same, that is, there tends to be equal stress on each stress group, with just a fall of pitch at the end of the sentence. In addition to this, it is our impression that the main verb in unmarked sentences is often given more stress than any of the other sentence elements. Some examples from Tent’s recordings include: (5)

a. I háve one brother in Canada. b. The next door neighbour all the time básh his wife when he cut [drunk]. c. I am stáying in Samabula. d. Are you cóming to the meke tonight? e. Where ís the class?

This seems to be characteristic of not only Pure Fiji English but often also Modified Fiji English. It is not uncommon to hear newsreaders on Fiji television or radio news use this syntactic stress pattern. 2.5.

Intonation

The most prominent suprasegmental property of Fijian Fiji English is the overall higher pitch patterns than in Standard English. This is especially marked in yes/no-questions, which start at a high pitch and typically end with a very rapid rise and sudden drop in pitch (which follows the intonation contour of Fijian), e.g.

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3.

Pure Fiji English (Indo-Fijian speakers)

In order to understand the phonology of Pure Fiji English as spoken by Fiji’s IndoFijians, a brief overview of the phonology of Fiji Hindi is required. While it does not vary significantly from that of Standard Hindi (Siegel 1975; Moag 1977, 1979; Arms 1998), there are a few notable differences. Siegel (1975, 1987: 8) notes that for many Fiji Hindi speakers [], [?] and [] are allophones of /n/ when preceding a consonant, and [l] is often replaced by [r] (Moag 1979), e.g. Fiji Hindi baar for Standard Hindi baal ‘hair’. On the other hand, Arms (1998: 2) claims that “[f] has completely replaced the primary [consonant] [p=]” (see also Hobbs 1985). For example, we have [ful] for ‘flower’, rather than [p=ul]. Arms points out that this is also the case in some dialects of Hindi in India, while in others, the two sounds are in free variation. He adds that they are “certainly not in free variation in Fiji, but [f] has in some cases given way to unaspirated [p]”. He cites as examples [hapta] ‘week’ (rather than [hafta]) and [fuppa] ‘father’s sister’s husband’ (rather than [fuffa]) and notes that in the latter the initial [f] is retained while medially it has changed to [p]. He adds that “for some speakers the change of [f] to [p] takes place optionally in many vocabulary items.” Thus /f/ has become part of the phonemic inventory of Hindi – including Fiji Hindi – via three sources: Perso-Arabic loanwords, borrowings from English, and etymological /p=/. Arms also claims that [] has merged with [s] for many speakers, especially in rural areas. The sounds which are used in Standard Hindi for the pronunciation of words of Perso-Arabic origin are not normally found in Fiji Hindi; neither are they in most colloquial varieties of Indian Hindi. For example, [z] is realised as [] in Fiji Hindi,

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765

as in Colloquial Hindi (Bhatia 1995: 16), except in some proper nouns. This is true even among Indo-Fijian Muslims, whose lexicon includes more such words and who would use such words more often. Other examples include [x], which is realised as [k=], as in the name Khan, for instance. The same is true of the voiced counterpart, which is simply pronounced as a velar, rather than uvular, []. As for vowels, Hindi has a set of five pairs of vowels whose phonetic relationship is reflected in the Devanagari orthography. Three are pairs of short versus long vowels: /a/ and /a/, /i/ and /i/, and /u/ and /u/. The mid vowels /e/ and /o/ are long and have not short vowels, but the diphthongs /ai/ and /au/ as their counterpart. In Fiji Hindi long and short vowels do not always contrast. Siegel (1975: 130) claims that vowel length is not differentiated (especially [i] vs. [i] and [u] vs. [u]), and this seems particularly true in final position. Similarly, with the exception of a few monosyllabic words, the two diphthongs do not occur in word final position. In any case, they constitute only about 1% of all vocalic occurrences (Arms 1998: 3). It is unclear whether vowel nasalisation, which occurs phonetically, is ever phonemic. The consonant and vowel phonemes of Fiji Hindi are presented in Figures 5 and 6 respectively.

Figure 5.

The consonant phonemes of Fiji-Hindi (based on Arms 1998)

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Figure 6.

The vowel phonemes of Fiji Hindi

Although Standard and Fiji Hindi are phonologically similar, Pure Fiji English as spoken by Indo-Fijians differs from the “typical” Indian English of the sub-continent in a number of ways. For instance: – Indo-Fijian English is, as a general rule, non-rhotic. – Pure Indo-Fijian English has monophthongised diphthongs. – The realisation of alveolars as retroflexes is much less common in Indo-Fijian English, though some speakers of Pure Fiji English do exhibit this characteristic. It is clear that much further empirical study needs to be carried both on the phonology of Fiji Hindi, and on the English spoken by Indo-Fijians. The following are the most common phonological features of Pure Fiji English as spoken by Indo-Fijians. 3.1.

Consonants

Stops 1. Even though aspiration is present in Fiji Hindi, voiceless stops are unaspirated. Indeed, in Fiji Hindi, as in varieties of Hindi in general, aspiration is phonemic. Phonetically, aspiration in Hindi seems to be more strongly articulated than in English (Bhatia 1995: 14). Perhaps the stops of English are perceived as being unaspirated rather than merely more weakly aspirated than those of Hindi. 2. In word final position, voiceless stops are normally unreleased. These two features, then, are identical in the Pure Fiji English of Fijians and of Indo-Fijians. Fricatives 1. The dental fricatives // and // are generally realised as dental stops, with the first being aspirated [t
=]. 2. Fiji Hindi does not contrast between // and /s/, which have merged as /s/, and many English words with // have been nativised into Fiji Hindi with /s/, e.g.

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767

masīn < ‘machine’, sabal < ‘shovel’, burūs < ‘brush’ (see Siegel 1991). Pure Indo-Fijian English does not contrast between // and /s/ either, resulting in homophonous pairs such as self and shelf. A nice example of this in print is: (6)

Wanted to buy: Old chicken mess wire. (Advertisement from an IndoFijian in Daily Post, 5/9/1998)

3. Final /z/ is often realised as [s] or devoiced [z], e.g. dolls > [dols], shoes > [sus], please > [plis]. 4. The voiced palato-alveolar fricative // is realised as [z], [s] or []: measure > [mez ] ~ [mes ], confusion > [konfju n]. These last two features are the same as in Fijian Fiji English. Approximants 1. Post-vocalic /l/ is “clear”, as in Fijian Fiji English. 2. The approximant /r/ generally only occurs in initial and medial positions and is normally flapped or trilled, as it is in Fijian Fiji English. 3. Initial /j/ is sometimes realised with an [i] onglide, e.g. year > [ijia ], you > [iju]. Consonant clusters 1. The Pure Fiji English of Indo-Fijian speakers, like that of Fijians, allows few consonant clusters, especially in final position e.g. last > [las], although /ks/ does frequently occur, especially in [aks] for ask, also as in Fijian English. 2. Consonant clusters, both initial and final, quite commonly receive an epenthetic vowel in Pure Indo-Fijian English, e.g. free > [fari], plate > [pilet], film > [filam], blouse > [bilaus], pliers > [pilaias], etc. Epenthetic vowels are particularly common in older English loans that have been fully nativised in Fiji Hindi, e.g. farāk < ‘frock’, gilās < ‘glass’, kulubāl < ‘crowbar’ (Siegel 1991); however, this tendency is not as strong nowadays. The regular past tense morpheme {-ed} sometimes receives an [
d] pronunciation when in Standard English it is rendered as [d] or [t], e.g. robbed > [rçb
d], asked [ask
d], learned (verb) > [l
n
d]. However, this is probably due to a spelling pronunciation. 3. Word initial /s+C/ clusters typically have a syllable initial prothetic /i/, e.g. school > [iskul], foolscaps > [fuliskeps], student > [istudent], sport > [ispot], etc. This is clearly an influence of the first language since Hindi (both standard and Fiji varieties) does not allow such initial consonant clusters. Fiji Hindi has also nativised English loans with a prothetic vowel, e.g. astabal < ‘stable’, isTimā < ‘steamer’ (Siegel 1991). The consonant phonemes of Pure Indo-Fijian Fiji English and their most common phonetic realisations are shown in Figure 7.

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Figure 7.

3.2.

The consonant phonemes of Pure Indo-Fijian Fiji English and their common phonetic realisations

Monophthongs and diphthongs

The Pure Fiji English of Indo-Fijians is characterised by lack of distinction in vowel quality, and, for some, vowel quantity. This neutralisation is responsible for many pronunciation spellings (see below). Phonemically, Pure Fiji English as spoken by Indo-Fijians is a five vowel system, although phonetically, like Fiji Hindi, it also has a schwa. Even though Fiji Hindi has only two diphthongs, / i/ and / u/, most diphthongs of English are realised as diaphones by Indo-Fijian speakers, albeit they are phonetically somewhat different from those in Standard English. Some diphthongs, however, can be realised as monophthongs by speakers of Pure Fiji English (see below). KIT (FIT) and FLEECE (REEF) The KIT and FLEECE vowels are not phonemically distinguished. This neutralisation often leads to misspellings such as those illustrated in (3a), (3b) and (3c) in section 2.2. above. Phonetically, the KIT vowel is retracted and slightly lowered [i], whilst FLEECE varies between a short and half-long [i]. DRESS and TRAP (BACK)

The TRAP and DRESS vowels are not phonemically distinct and tend also to be phonetically identical, i.e. a slightly raised [
], leading to examples such as those

Fiji English: phonology

769

in (4) above and: than and then > [d=
n], sand and send > [s
nd], gas and guess > [g
s]. Siegel (1991) has also noted that Fiji Hindi also regularly substitutes [
] for [æ] in English loanwords. LOT (POT), CLOTH (OFF), THOUGHT, NORTH and FORCE The LOT and CLOTH vowels are commonly realised as a lowered [ç], and in the case of LOT, some speakers articulate it as an extra short vowel. As with Fijian speakers of Pure Fiji English, many Indo-Fijian speakers do not make a phonemic distinction between the LOT/CLOTH vowels and THOUGHT/NORTH/FORCE vowels, giving rise to caught and cot > [kçt], and examples such as those in (1e), (1f) and (1g) above. THOUGHT, NORTH and FORCE are phonetically very similar; they are all slight variants of [ç]. THOUGHT is articulated as a lowered and at times extra short [ç], whilst NORTH and FORCE both vary between simply a raised [ç] and a half-long raised [ç]. Note also Fiji Hindi’s nativisation of the English loans force > fos [fçs], sauce > sos [sçs] and torch > Toc ["çt] (Siegel 1991). STRUT (CUT), BATH (GRASS), PALM and START

There is no phonemic distinction in this set, and the vowels are realised as variations of [a]: STRUT as a retracted [a], often extra short; BATH as retracted [a], and sometimes half-long; PALM simply as [a] or half-long [a]; START as retracted [a], and sometimes extra short. In polysyllabic words containing the STRUT vowel, this vowel is often realised as schwa (see 3.4. below). FOOT and GOOSE (LOOSE) There is no phonemic distinction between these two vowels. They are articulated as advanced forms of [u], though the FOOT vowel tends to be somewhat lower than that of GOOSE, which can also have a lengthened form. The lack of phonemic distinction between these vowels often leads to neutralisations like full and fool > [ful], pull and pool > [pul], or look and Luke > [luk] for most Indo-Fijian speakers of Pure Fiji Hindi (see also 4.3. below). NURSE

This vowel has quite a wide range of realisations. It ranges from [
], [
], [], [], [ ] to [a], however, [
] or [
] are the most common realisations. The latter can be seen by the way English loans containing the NURSE vowel have been nativised into Fiji Hindi, e.g. keTin [k
"in] < ‘curtain’, šet [
t] < ‘shirt’ (from Siegel 1991). FACE The FACE diphthong is most often realised by Indo-Fijian speakers as a monoph-

thong – a lengthened [e], e.g. day > [de], occupation > [çkupe n]. Note also

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Fiji Hindi’s esTet [ s"et] < estate, kek [kek] < cake, pleT [ple"] < plate (Siegel 1991). For those speakers who articulate FACE as a diphthong, the second target [i] is generally only weakly articulated. GOAT

This diphthong is also most generally realised as a monophthong, namely a half long [o], and when it does have a second target, [u], this is also weakly articulated. PRICE

Unlike the previous two items, the vocalic target of PRICE is realised by most Indo-Fijian speakers of Pure Fiji English almost like a diphthong. However, the lingual glide from its first to second target tends to be more restricted (i.e. shorter) than what is generally heard in standard metropolitan Englishes. The first target is largely realised as a retracted and lowered [] which is followed by a lingual glide which tends not to go much further than a slightly raised [e]. CHOICE

The vowel in this word is also articulated as a diphthong by most speakers; however, the glide between the two targets tends to be less constrained than for PRICE, and is strongly articulated. The starting point for CHOICE is a rather advanced [ç], followed by a glide all the way up to a quite forcefully articulated [i]. MOUTH

As with the PRICE diphthong, MOUTH also has quite a restricted glide to the second target. The starting point is usually an extra short and considerably retracted [a]. The glide up to the second target remains relatively flat, moving towards quite a strongly articulated [ç]. NEAR, SQUARE and CURE The centring diphthongs found in standard metropolitan English NEAR, SQUARE and CURE are all realised as strongly articulated falling diphthongs. The second target is generally always an extra short but prominent []. The first target of NEAR is [], that of SQUARE a retracted [
], and that of CURE tends to be a [ ].

happY Like for Fijian speakers of Pure Fiji English, the final vowel of happY is an extra short, retracted and lowered [i]. It also receives more stress than in Standard English. lettER The final syllable of lettER also receives more stress than in Standard English, and is most usually realised as an advanced and extra short [].

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horsES For most speakers this vowel tends to be unstressed and is realised as a schwa. commA (VISA) The most usual articulation of the commA vowel is a retracted and extra short [a]. Once again, the vowel is given more stress than in Standard English. Table 2 provides a summary of the most common phonetic realisations of the vowels of Pure Fiji English as articulated by Indo-Fijians.

Table 2. Phonetic realisations of Pure Fiji English vowels (Indo-Fijian speakers) – summary Lexical set

Pure Fiji English (Indo-Fijian speakers)

KIT (FIT)

i 

DRESS




TRAP (BACK)




LOT (POT)

ç( ~ ç

STRUT (CUT)

a( ~ a ~

FOOT

u 

BATH (GRASS)

a( ~ a

CLOTH (OFF)

ç

NURSE


~
 ~  ~  ~ ~ a

FLEECE (REEF)

i ~ i

FACE

e ~ ei

PALM

a ~ a

THOUGHT

ç( ~ ç

GOAT

o ~ ou

GOOSE (LOOSE)

u ~ u

PRICE

 e

CHOICE

çI

MOUTH

a(ç

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Table 2.

(continued) Phonetic realisations of Pure Fiji English vowels (Indo-Fijian speakers) – summary

Lexical set

Pure Fiji English (Indo-Fijian speakers)

NEAR

7

SQUARE


7

START

a( ~ a

NORTH

ç ~ ç

FORCE

ç ~ ç

CURE

7

happY

i7

lettER

7

horsES



commA (VISA)

a

The vowel phonemes of Pure Indo-Fijian Fiji English and their most common phonetic realisations are shown in Figure 8.

Figure 8.

3.3.

The vowel phonemes of Pure Indo-Fijian Fiji English and their common phonetic realisations

Lexical stress

The status and even the existence of stress in Hindi are controversial. Many authors claim that Hindi does not have stress, while most of those who argue that it does agree that stress is not phonemic and that it is phonetically weaker than in English. Most of these claims are based on impressions rather than empirical data, but Ohala’s acoustic study (1986) shows that stress, though not phonemic, does have phonetic correlates (essentially pitch). Since lexical stress in Hindi normally seems to fall on the penultimate syllable, placement of lexical stress in English

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polysyllabic words is one of the most conspicuous characteristics of Indo-Fijian English (and also Indian English). Lexical stress patterns include: 1. The assignment of primary stress to the initial syllable of words such as develop > [*d
v l p], constrict > [*kçn+strik], event > [*i+v
nt], etc., is extremely common. 2. Other polysyllabic words that receive irregular stress assignment may in some cases be due to a failure to realise the variation in stress of related words, e.g. necessary > [n *s
s( )ri], perhaps following the stress pattern of the noun necéssity. 3. As seen above, the unstressed vowels of Standard English happY, lettER and commA are usually given more stress than in Standard English, but still less stress than the first syllable. 3.4.

Syntactic stress

Hindi is a so-called syllable-timed language unlike Standard English which is stress-timed. Hindi (including Fiji Hindi) does not have a strong syntactic stress pattern, at least not to the extent that unstressed syllables are markedly reduced or hurried as they are in English. The total duration of the utterance in Hindi is dependent more on the number of syllables it contains than on the number and position of stressed syllables, as it is in English. In Hindi, the tendency to raise pitch rather than increase loudness to indicate emphasis also contributes to this quality. Words that are normally accented in unmarked Standard English sentences are often left unaccented in the English of Indo-Fijians and vice versa. 3.5.

Intonation

The intonation contours of the Pure Fiji English of Indo-Fijians are very different from those of Indian English. However, the rising terminal intonation of English ‘yes/no’ questions which is reserved for expressions of surprise in Hindi are carried over into Indo-Fijian English. The characteristic Indo-Fijian interrogative pattern, in which the end of a ‘yes/no’ question is marked by a rise followed by a fall in pitch (like that of Pure Fiji English of Fijian speakers), is quite unlike the Standard English norm. This sometimes leads to misunderstanding between speakers of Standard English and Pure Fiji English, particularly in polite requests, when the requestor gives the impression that a positive reply is expected.

4.

Some shared phonological features

Apart from the phonological similarities between the Fijian and Indo-Fijian varieties of Pure Fiji English as outlined above, there are a number of other

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shared phonological features. We describe the three most distinct ones here, all of which are characteristic of L2 English. Although the first two characteristics are grammatical features (see also Mugler and Tent, other volume) they seem to have phonological causes. Both involve the absence of inflectional suffixes, which appears to be the result of consonant cluster reduction, also noted above. 4.1.

Absence of {-ed}

The absence of the written and spoken {-ed} suffix, whether articulated as [t], [d] or [ d], in past tense forms and participial adjectives is very common in all varieties of Pure Fiji English. Some examples from Tent’s (2000) corpus of spoken Fiji English include: (7)

a. b. c. d. e.

Would you like some ice water? You can buy dry fish at the market. Many people in the Pacific eat tin fish. This hotel doesn’t have aircondition rooms. This office is close for the day.

Some examples of pronunciation spellings are given in (8). Interestingly, many involve the {-ed} suffix following a voiceless consonant which normally results in assimilation, with a realisation as [t]. The adjoining of two voiceless consonants may further make the perception of the suffix more difficult. (8)

a. “He is bleeding internally. Its [sic] most probably a case of an aggravated ulcer in its advance stage,” he [a doctor] said. (The Daily Post, 10/4/1996) b. A few clap down [i.e. ‘clapped out’] diggers barely able to move have been hired and can be seen digging away at penal rate [sic] working full swing during the weekends. (Sunday Post, 30/11/1997) c. Experience Signwriters to start immediately at Vanua Signs Limited. Phone 381553 for interview. (Positions Vacant column, The Fiji Times, 19/7/1994) d. River sand, crush metal and garden soil we deliver Phone 362663 Jalil (For Sale column, The Fiji Times, 19/5/1994, 1/6/1994, 6/7/1994, 7/7/1994, 10/9/1994) e. The case was heard behind close doors (Daily Post, 15/10/1999)

It is worth mentioning that the addition of the {-ed} suffix to adjectives is also quite common, e.g. I am the mother of three teenaged daughters. It seems only to be a feature of written English, frequently seen with the adjective mature, often seen in positions vacant advertisements in the local tabloids:

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a. Housegirl required urgently, be matured, to baby sit and do housework. Have to be good with children. Phone Ferin 386348. (Positions Vacant column, Fiji Times, 10/9/1994) b. The police are matured people and we do not expect such an order against them. (From a Fijian university student’s written answer in a test, 9/8/1994)

The following example shows both the absence and addition of the {-ed} suffix in adjoining words: (10)

An Experience matured live in housegirl required. [...] (Positions Vacant column, The Fiji Times, 2/12/1994).

Cases of {-ed} addition are either malapropisms or instances of hypercorrection (especially since this addition seems to manifest itself predominantly in writing or print), a common phenomenon in L2 English. Once again, more research needs to be conducted to unravel exactly what is going on here. 4.2.

Absence of {-s}

The absence of the third person singular present tense verb suffix and the {-s} plural morpheme (both in writing and speech) are as ubiquitous in Fiji English as in most other L2 varieties of English. It could be argued that printed examples are merely misprints, were it not for the fact that the feature is so common in speech and so regularly seen in writing and print. Some examples include: (11)

a. Price of Used Equipment depend mainly on size, age, hours Used [sic] and actual condition of the units. (The Daily Post, 10/5/1994) b. The money in grog keep the wheels of economy [sic] rolling. (Letters to the Editor, The Daily Post, 8/8/1994)

4.3.

Absence of yod in non-primary stressed /Cju/ syllables

The deletion of the palatal glide or approximant [j] (commonly referred to as “yod”) in primary stressed /Cju/ syllables is found in varying degrees in the “inner circle” Englishes (Kachru 1985: 12) and is generally the result of various historical processes. Most of these varieties (e.g. Cockney, Estuary, General American, Australian, New Zealand, South African English etc.) occupy positions between that of conservative Received Pronunciation, which has the least amount of yoddeletion, and East Anglian English, which deletes yod in all phonological environments (Wells 1982). The most common type of yod-deletion is found after alveolars and dentals, e.g. in General American English (Wells 1982) and in Cockney (Wells 1982). In these two varieties, the deletion only occurs after alveolars and

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dentals – not after labials or velars. Therefore, items such as music and cute are never realised as *[muzik] or *[kut]. With the exception of East Anglian English, yod-deletion in non-primary stressed syllables (no matter what the preceding consonant) is not usually found in any “inner circle” variety. With the exception of those lexical items in which yod has been historically deleted in most varieties of English (e.g. rude, blue), another type of yod-deletion occurs in Fiji English and is probably the most prominent phonological feature across the whole spectrum of its speakers. It involves the absence of yod in nonprimary stressed syllables, not only after alveolars and dentals (with no evidence of [tj] > [t] or [dj] > [d] coalescence), but also after labials and velars, e.g. regular > [*r
gula], stimulate > [*stimulet], annual > [*
nul], situation > [situ*en], popular > [*pçpula], educate > [*
duket], fabulous > [*f
bul s], occupation > [çku*pen]. Tent (2001) conducted a detailed quantitative analysis of this phenomenon and found that although it is dynamic and complex, the absence of yod in non-primary stressed /Cju/ syllables was primarily a characteristic of L2 Fiji English. However, it had gradually evolved into a phonological shibboleth of many, if not most, L1 Fiji English speakers. The distinct clines in yodless pronunciation in terms of age, gender and level of education indicate that a change is in progress. The younger the speaker is, the more yodless is the pronunciation, while the more educated the speaker is, the more yod is used (or retained) in this particular phonological environment. There is also a tendency for females to favour a yod pronunciation, which concurs with the findings of most other social dialect studies which report that women tend to use a more standard or prestige pronunciation. The tendency for males to favour yodless pronunciations, especially the younger ones, suggests that the phenomenon is a marker of covert prestige, maleness, and group identity (i.e. being speakers of Fiji English). The desire to identify with the local community is strong and is manifested linguistically. The reasons for the retention of yodless /Cju/ syllables, and indeed its increase among young Fiji English speakers, may well be because its speakers do not wish to alienate themselves from those within their own speech community. Educated speakers in Tent’s study also have yodless /Cju/ syllables, but to a lesser extent. This suggests that these speakers may be more linguistically sensitive and aspire to speak Modified Fiji English. More empirically based sociolinguistic research in this area is required to determine how strongly pressure to conform to the local norm is felt by the various sub-groups of Fiji English speakers, and to what degree this depends on how closely enmeshed the speaker is in the community. On the other hand, some speakers realise blew as [bliu] and flew as [fliu]. For those speakers, blue and blew, and flu and flew are homophonous. This yod insertion may be more common among Indo-Fijians, but it is also present in the pronunciation of some Fijians. It may be an over-generalisation of the pronunciation of orthographic in general (e.g. few [fju], new [nju]), or more specifically

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in the past tense of strong verbs (e.g. knew [nju]). Some informants seem to think that this is a teacher-induced error. These observations are, however, based on data from only about thirty informants, and confirmation would require more systematic empirical study.

5.

Conclusion

The descriptions we have given of Fijian and Indo-Fijian Fiji English, including the pervasive absence of yod, illustrate the complexity and multifariousness of Fiji English phonology. Since the variety is overwhelmingly an L2 English, many of its phonological features are the result of phonological transfer from the first languages involved. Although this makes it no less interesting than any L1 variety of English, it does make it rather more difficult to analyse and characterise (at least from a phonological perspective). Unlike L1 varieties of English, L2 varieties, such as Fiji English, have the added variable of degree of competence: wide variation in competence in the language results in great differences in pronunciation. A description and analysis of the phonology of Fiji English should not merely focus on the phonology of its L1 speakers, even though this would certainly be much more straightforward. To do so would present only a very small aspect of the complete phonological picture. What is needed are careful and detailed descriptions of each speech community’s variety of Fiji English. This has been achieved by Tent (2001) for a single variable, absence of yod, but the overall task is far more complex, and the pronunciation of more phonological variables needs to be empirically investigated. Apart from the L2 phonological features outlined above, Fiji English has several features that are also attested in English-based pidgins/creoles and basilectal/casual register native Englishes, some of which include: – the common reduction of the {-ing} morpheme to [n], – the reduction of final consonant clusters, especially with /-Ct/ and /-Cd/ clusters, – the metathesis of clusters such as [-sk-] as in ask, and – the insertion of epenthetic vowel in final /-lC/ clusters, e.g. Burns Philp > [filp], film > [filam], milk > [milik] We have argued that Fiji English is not a homogeneous variety but a group of co-existent systems or a series of continua. The phonological sketches we have presented above bear this out, but also show the need for a greater amount of detailed research and analysis for each system. What we have attempted to do here is lay the foundation for such studies by presenting an overview of Fiji English

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phonology. Future sociolinguistic studies concerning other linguistic features will also show to what extent our interpretations are well-founded. *

We are much indebted to all our informants, in particular those who kindly agreed to be recorded, and many of the students enrolled in LL311 (Varieties of English) at the University of the South Pacific in Semester 1, 2003. We are also grateful to Maraia Lesuma and Ravi Nair for helping with the recordings, David Blair for helping with the phonetic transcriptions, and to Paul Geraghty for his valuable comments. Finally, we would like to thank Kate Burridge and Bernd Kortmann for their suggestions to improve our two papers. Errors and shortcomings are, of course, our own.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Arms, Fr. David G. 1998 Tendencies in Fiji Hindi. In: Jan Tent and France Mugler (eds), SICOL: Proceedings of the Second International Conference on Oceanic Linguistics, Volume I: Language Contact, 1–10. (Pacific Linguistics C 141.) Canberra: Pacific Linguistics. Bhatia, Tej 1995 Colloquial Hindi. London/New York: Motilal Banarsidass. Fox, Julian 2003 English in Fiji: defining the lect: a sketch grammar of Pure Fiji English. M.A. thesis, Department of Literature and Language, University of the South Pacific, Suva. Geraghty, Paul 1975 Fijian and English in schools. Outpost 3: 20−23. 1977 Fiji pidgin and bilingual education. Fiji English Teachers Journal 12: 2−8. 1983 The History of the Fijian Languages. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. 1984 Language policy in Fiji and Rotuma. In: George B. Milner, David G. Arms and Paul Geraghty (eds.), Duivosavosa: Fiji’s Languages: Their Use and Their Future, 32–84. (Fiji Museum Bulletin No. 8.) Suva: Fiji Museum. 1997 The ethnic basis of society in Fiji. In: Brij V. Lal and Tomasi R. Vakatora (eds.), Fiji Constitution Review Commission Research Papers, Volume 1: Fiji in Transition, 1–23. Suva: University of the South Pacific. Hobbs, Susan 1985 Fiji Hindi – English, English – Fiji Hindi Dictionary. Fiji: Ministry of Education. Kachru, Braj B. 1985 Standards, codification and sociolinguistic realism in the English language in the outer circle. In: Randolf Quirk and Henry G. Widdowson (eds.), English in the World, 11–30. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Kelly, Sr. Francis 1975 The English spoken colloquially by a group of adolescents in Suva. Fiji English Teachers Journal 11: 19−43. Moag, Rodney F. 1977 Fiji Hindi: A Basic Course and Reference Grammar. Canberra: Australian National University Press. 1979 Linguistic adaptations of the Fiji Indians. In: Vijay Mishra (ed.), Rama’s Banishment, 112–138. Auckland: Heinemann Educational Books. Moag, Rodney F. and Louisa B. Moag 1977 English in Fiji, some perspectives and the need for language planning. Fiji English Teachers Journal 13: 2−26. Ohala, Manjari 1986 A search for the phonetic correlates of Hindi stress. In: Bhadriraju Krishnamurti (ed.), South Asian Languages: Structure, Convergence and Diglossia, 81–92. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass. Schütz, Albert 1985 The Fijian Language. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. 1999 Fijian accent. Oceanic Linguistics 38: 139–151. Siegel, Jeff 1975 Fiji Hindustani. University of Hawaii Working Papers in Linguistics 7: 127– 144. 1986 Pidgin English in Fiji: a sociolinguistic history. Pacific Studies 9: 53−106. 1987 Language Contact in a Plantation Environment: A Sociolinguistic History of Fiji. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1989 English in Fiji. World Englishes 8: 47−58. 1991 Variation in Fiji English. In: Cheshire (ed.), 664−674. Tent, Jan 2000 The dynamics of Fiji English: a study of its use, users and features. Ph.D. dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University of Otago, Dunedin. 2001 Yod deletion in Fiji English: phonological shibboleth or L2 English? Language Variation and Change 13: 161−191.

Norfolk Island-Pitcairn English: phonetics and phonology John Ingram and Peter Mühlhäusler

1.

Introduction

1.1.

What is Norfuk?

The label ‘Variety of English’, when applied to the ways of speaking of the descendants of the Bounty mutineers and their Tahitian spouses, is somewhat problematic, and the relationship of these to other varieties featuring in this volume is complex. Earlier judgments on the linguistic nature of the language (surveyed by Mühlhäusler 1998) vary considerably and include characterisations such as dialect of English, dialect of Beach-la-Mar, mixed language, patois, cant, pidgin and creole. A similar range of labels is encountered among present-day speakers, and there is no agreement among them whether the variety spoken on Pitcairn Island and Norfolk Island are varieties of English, one separate language, or two separate languages. It appears that the wish to distinguish Pitkern from Norfuk as two separate named languages is growing and we have conformed to this wish. We have also opted to concentrate on the varieties spoken on Norfolk Island, as this is where the vast majority of present-day speakers reside (about 900 as against 50 on Pitcairn) and Norfolk is where Mühlhäusler has conducted fieldwork over several years. Sociopolitical problems make fieldwork on Pitcairn impractical at the moment. The difficulties experienced in obtaining an adequate characterisation of Norfuk result from a number of factors. (a) very patchy documentation (b) Norfuk is not a focused language (see LePage and Tabouret-Keller 1985), where all community members agree on norms and standards, and what is called Norfuk ranges from forms that are mutually unintelligible with English, to others that differ only by a few stereotypical expressions. (c) Both Pitkern and Norfuk have always been spoken side by side acrolectal varieties of English (British and Australian on Norfolk, British and American on Pitcairn). On Norfolk, standard British English until recently served as the role-model for educated islanders, and “murdering the King” was the local expression for speaking Norfuk. It is noted that some families spoke English only, whereas in other families, Norfuk was the preferred language.

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(d) Code mixing is pervasive; there are virtually no examples, even from older conservative speakers, which do not involve code-switching. (e) Norfuk has been an esoteric language, not readily accessible to outsiders. It has also been a stigmatised language with a long history of persecution by the education system. At present, the Norfolk Islanders are in the process of deciding on questions such as language name, lexical and grammatical norms, writing system and social role. To turn a large number of individual ways of speaking into a language in the sense of a modern standard language is a difficult technical and political process which leaves much room for conflict. It would seem very unwise for an outsider to tell people what their language is, or what it should be. We have refrained from privileging any of the suggested orthographies, word-choices, word-meanings or grammatical structures. Normalising the data at this point in the history of the language could do a great deal of damage and the reader is asked to forgive instances of inconsistency and vagueness on certain points. 1.2.

Geographical information

Pitcairn Island is situated in an isolated part of the Central South Pacific Ocean (24° 01’S x 130° 06’W), the distance from New Zealand from where it is administered being greater than that between Sweden and India. Its landmass is less than five square kilometres and its present population around 50, with a possibility that it will be abandoned. Norfolk Island is located 1,575 kilometres east of Australia in the South Pacific Ocean (24° 05’S x 167° 59E). It occupies an area of 34.6 square kilometres and has a permanent population of about 2,600. It is visited by about 30,000 tourists per annum, with projected numbers exceeding 50,000 in the near future. 1.3.

Sociohistorical background

What has been written about the social history of the language again comprises quite a few varying accounts, with certain key factors such as the early presence of a West-Indian English speaker or the impact of the Melanesian Mission generally not being discussed (Mühlhäusler 2002). The story of the mutiny on the Bounty has been popularised by numerous novels, plays and films, and Pitcairn Island, where the Bounty mutineers settled in 1792, has come to stand as a metaphor for a South Sea Utopia. When nine British sailors, twelve Tahitian and Tubudian women and six Tahitian men arrived on Pitcairn, the island was uninhabited. By 1800, following a period of violence, John Adams was the sole survivor with 10 women and 23 children. When he died in 1829 the island had become a model Christian community of about 80. Because of food and water shortages,

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Pitcairn Islanders were removed to Tahiti in 1821, but returned to the island in the same year. In 1839 the population had grown to 100, by 1850 it had reached 156. As fishstocks became scarce and the island degraded, in 1853 the inhabitants solicited the aid of the British Government to transfer them to another island which had become uninhabited, Norfolk. In 1856 all 194 Pitcairn Islanders settled on Norfolk, but a number of families returned to Pitcairn shortly afterwards. Norfolk Island was discovered by Captain Cook in 1779 and because of its ample natural resources and isolated position was made a British Penal Colony in 1877. The first penal settlement was abandoned in 1814, but a second penal settlement was built in 1825 at a location for the “extremist punishment short of death” (Hoare 1982: 35) and “a cesspool of sodomy, massacre and exploitation” (Christian 1982: 12). Following much criticism, the settlement was closed down in 1854. The third settlement is that by the Pitcairners who arrived in 1856 and were given title to about 1/4 of the total land area rather than the entire island as they had been led to believe. One reason for this is that the Melanesian mission, operating from Auckland, also had designs on Norfolk, and they were granted about 400 hectares of land in 1867. A boarding school catering for about two hundred students from different parts of Melanesia was set up and remained in operation until 1920. Both islands thus provide laboratory conditions to study linguistic processes such as language contact, dialect mixing, and languages in competition. Different linguists have tended to concentrate on only one of these, as key factor, ignoring that all of them were important at some point in the history of Pitkern and Norfuk, plus other factors such as deliberate creation of language. Ross and Moverley (1964) characterise what they called Pitcairnese as the outcome of language mixing, and provide numerous details about Tahitian lexicon and grammar, as well as details on dialect features. They provide details on the provenance and likely dialect affiliation of the mutineers (1964: 49, 137). As most men were killed in the first years of settlement, only the following are likely to have influenced the emerging language: Matthew Quintal (Cornishman), William McKoy (Scotsman), Edward Young (St. Kitts, West Indies), and John Adams (Cockney). The two principal linguistic socialisers for the first generation of children born on Pitcairn were Young and Adams. Young contributed a number of St. Kitts pronunciations and lexemes, [l] for [r] in words such as stole ‘story’, klai ‘cry’, and morga ‘thin’. John Adams created the social conditions in which standard acrolectal English against all demographic odds could prevail as the dominant language of the community. There is ample evidence that the Tahitians were not regarded as full human beings by the white members of the community and that racism was strong. This is reflected, for instance, in the absence of place-names remembering the non-European settlers. To date, no Tahitian woman is thus remembered by a place-name on either Pitcairn or Norfolk Island, though there now is a revaluation and appre-

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ciation of the Tahitian contribution and the word formaadha ‘foremother’ is being used in modern Norfuk. Tahitian dress, language and eventually diet were gradually suppressed and given up, and policies put in place that were based on British and American models. Of particular importance has been the education system, which has tended to be in the hands of outsiders (Englishmen, American Seventh Day Adventist missionaries, and finally New Zealanders on Pitcairn Island; first British and then Australian teachers on Norfolk). Evidence from language use and attitudes in the Norfolk Education System suggests that from about 1900, language became a major issue and generations of teachers were actively involved in marginalising, suppressing and ridiculing the Norfuk Language. Children who spoke it were punished, and a sense of shame remains when older islanders speak the language in front of outsiders. More positive attitudes towards Norfuk date from the late 1980s, and in the late 1990s Norfuk language was formally introduced into the school as part of Norfolk Studies. There are now plans to teach Norfuk Language from Preschool to Year 10. The ambivalent attitudes towards Norfuk are reflected in two areas of language mixing. First, it is remarkable that words of Tahitian origin tend to be predominant in marked domains of language: taboo words, negative characterisations, undesirable and unnatural phenomena and properties. Examples include: eeyulla ‘adolescent, immature, or not dry behind the ears’; gari ‘accumulation of dirt, dust, grime, grease, etc.’; hoopaye ‘mucous secreted in the nose’; howa-howa ‘to soil one’s pants from a bowel movement, have diarrhoea’; hullo (1) ‘a person of no consequence’, (2) ‘having nothing of any value; dirt poor’; iti ‘any of the wasting diseases but mainly referring to tuberculosis’; iwi ‘stunted, undersized’; laha (also lu-hu) ‘dandruff’; loosah ‘menses, menstruation’; maioe ‘given to whimpering or crying a lot, like a child, but not necessarily a child’; nanu ‘jealous’; pontoo ‘unkempt, scruffy’; po-o ‘barren or unfertile soil’; tarpou ‘stains on the hands caused from peeling some fruits and vegetables’; tinai (1) ‘to gaze at with envy’, (2) ‘an avaricious person’; toohi ‘to curse, blaspheme, or swear’; uuaa ‘sitting ungraciously’; uma-oola ‘awkward, ungainly, clumsy’. Some of these words may have originated in the nursery context rather than being indices of negative racial attitudes, but the overwhelming impression is that Tahitian words are the semantically marked forms: 98% of the forms in the 100word standard Swadesh list are of English origin (the exception being aklan ‘we’ and the form lieg which stands for ‘foot’ and ‘leg’) and only about 5% of all words come from sources other than English (Tahitian, St. Kitts, Melanesian Pidgin English). A second remarkable property is that words of English, Tahitian and other languages do not differ, as they do in most contact languages, in their susceptibility to morphosyntactic rules, suggesting a full integration of the two languages.

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(1)

progressive marker -en a. Yu tuhien. ‘You are swearing’. b.. Mais aanti kuken f kresmes. ‘My aunt is cooking for Christmas’.

(2)

stages of comparison a. agli – aglia – aglies ‘ugly – uglier – ugliest’ b. pili – pilia – pilies ‘sticky – stickier – stickiest’ c. meyameya – mayameyara – meyameyares ‘withered – more withered – most withered’ d. morga – morgara – morgares ‘thin – thinner – thinnest’

The single most important question regarding Pitkern/Norfuk remains its linguistic nature. In spite of considerable interest from dialectologists, creolists and researchers into language contact phenomena, most conclusions have been presented on the basis of very sketchy evidence and second-hand information, and the task to provide an observationally adequate account of the development and presentday use of Pitkern/Norfuk is far from completed. A particular obstacle has been the assumption that one is dealing with a single monolithic phenomenon, whereas in fact there is strong evidence for historical discontinuities, extensive idiolectal variation and a wide range of proficiencies. For instance, the very few samples of Pitkern from the 1820s bear relatively little similarity to present-day varieties. Captain Raine (1824: 37) recorded the following observations about the low level of literacy and simplicity of lifestyle: In their conversation they were always anxious for information on the Scriptures, and expressed their sorrow that they did not understand all they read. One of them in talking with the Doctor showed such a knowledge of the Scriptures as is worthy of remark, particularly as it evinced their simplicity and harmlessness; the subject was a quarrelling, on which he said, ‘Suppose one man strike me, I no strike again, for the Book says, suppose one strike you on one side, turn the other to him; suppose he bad man strike me I no strike him, because no good that; suppose he kill me, he can’t kill the soul – he no can grasp that, that go to God, much better place than here.’ At another time, pointing to all the scene around him, and to the Heavens, he said, ‘God make all these, sun, moon, and stars and’ he added, with surprise, ‘the book say some people live who not know who made these!’ This appeared to him a great sin. They all of them frequently said, ‘if they no pray to God they grow wicked, and then God have nothing to do with the wicked, you know’.

Differences with present-day varieties in the areas of word order, use of relativisers and tags are evident. In common with present-day Norfuk are negation, conditional clauses and code mixing.

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There probably never was a totally homogeneous speech community in the sense that every member believed they were speaking a language other than English, or in the sense of sharing the same linguistic role models, and there are still differences in lexical choice and pronunciation among different families. The language emerged in the tension between Tahitians and British, Islanders and Outsiders, Royalists and Independence Supporters. Some of the unique factors in the history of the language include: (a) Pitcairn Island was the first English-speaking territory with compulsory literacy (from the 1820s). John Adams, towards the end of his life, invited English teachers to the island who not only ran the education system, but played a full part in many aspects of community life and were role models for community members. Proficiency in British Standard English has been held in high regard since their arrival. For speakers under the age of 30, Australian English has become the most widely accepted model. (b) Literacy, for a significant part of its history, was strongly associated with religion, the Bible and religious texts being the predominant reading materials, and Biblical language an important model. Children were exposed to Biblical English from early childhood and it seems unlikely that any child was allowed to grow up without a thorough knowledge of this variety. Literate forms of Tahitian were not employed by the Pitcairners, and Pitkern/Norfuk was never used for religious writings or discourses. (c) Pitkern/Norfuk is not a language in which all its speakers’ needs can be expressed. It has a very limited vocabulary, about 1500 words (Eira, Magdalena and Mühlhäusler 2002), and it has not been used for public and high functions until very recently. However, since about 1990 the visibility of Norfuk has increased significantly. It features on the signage of the National Parks, the airport and departure forms, the names of businesses e.g. Nuffka Apartments ‘Kingfisher or Norfolker’, Wetls Daun A’Taun ‘victuals down in Kingston Town’ and house names Dii el duu ‘able to do, make do’, Mais hoem and in local songs. (d) The extent to which Pitkern/Norfuk was socially institutionalised appears to vary with political circumstances and the desire of the population to express a separate identity. Greater use of Pitkern/Norfuk and concomitant loss of proficiency in English appear to coincide with the wish to distinguish oneself from outsiders. Laycock (1989) suggested that Pitkern/Norfuk came into being as a cant, in 1836, when the entire Pitcairn community was briefly resettled in Tahiti and found themselves at odds with the moral laxness which prevailed there at the time. However, the deliberate distancing from acrolectal English is documented even before the mutiny, when sailors mixed Tahitian expressions with English in order to taunt their unpopular captain.

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The wish not to be Australian has been a strong motif in maintaining a separate form of speech on Norfolk Island, and the current conflict between Pitcairn Islanders and Britain (over a matter of police investigation) may trigger off a revival of the Pitcairn variety. Pitkern/Norfuk thus can be studied as an indicator of changing perceptions of identity. The situation on Norfolk Island today is reminiscent of Labov’s observations on Martha’s Vineyard (1972b), where non-standard forms have become reactivated by members of the younger generation opposed to mass tourism from the mainland. The tendency of past researchers to regard the Norfolk Island language from a purely structural perspective must be regarded as problematic, as structural properties cannot easily be separated from sociohistorical forces. If anything, it is the indexical rather than the structural and referential properties of Pitkern/Norfuk that lend this language its special character. As regards deviations from standard English, no single cause or explanation seems sufficient. Unsurprisingly, a number of features from older, eighteenth-century English are retained, though contemporary varieties of British, New Zealand, Australian and American English are influencing the language today. The fact that the language developed on a remote island has led observers to believe that it developed in isolation. The exact opposite appears to be the case, however. Apart from a brief period before 1810, outside visitors were a very common phenomenon on Pitcairn (Pitcairn Island was one of the main ports of call in the Pacific until the arrival of modern intercontinental air traffic). Outsiders (not descended from the mutineers) form a significant part of both communities. Intermarriage is common, and both communities were actively involved in whaling, mission work and travelled for education and health purposes. Some of the generalisations about Island Creoles (Chaudenson 1998) apply to Pitkern and Norfuk as well. The presence of a number of creole features (Harrison 1972: 223; Romaine 1988: 65) in Pitkern/Norfuk has been a source of confusion as researchers have failed to distinguish between creolisation in situ and the diffusion of creole features from St. Kitts (typologically Pitkern/Norfuk is much closer to the Atlantic Creoles than the Pacific ones, as demonstrated by Baker 1999: 315–364). Little work has been done on the influence of Pidgin English, which was widely used in the whaling industry and also by the Melanesian islanders on Norfolk. There were two possible time frames which favoured creolisation. One between about 1795 and 1815, on Pitcairn Island, and two in some of the more remote parts of Norfolk Island where a few families appear to have used predominantly Pitkern/Norfuk. One of the crucial bits of evidence, informal speech of young children at these dates, is missing. The children that we have observed on Norfolk Island in recent years are dominant speakers of English. Flint and Harrison’s data suggest that there was a change from Norfuk to English being the dominant language of the young generation in the 1950s.

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Norfuk speech

Reliable observational evidence on Norfuk speech and its changing characteristics are scarce. By far and away the best source of evidence – a window on Norfuk vernacular – at a time when the language was more actively used in the community, is provided by a set of 17 tape-recorded dialogues obtained by Elwyn Flint on a field trip to Norfolk Island in 1957. Elwyn Flint was a linguist at the University of Queensland from the 1950s up to the early 1970s. Flint had an abiding interest in peripheral varieties of English and language contact situations. He was a diligent collector of speech recordings from diverse communities throughout rural Queensland. Around the time when Flint was conducting his field work, Norfolk Island was coming under the influence of a second wave of massive external influence, primarily from Australian and New Zealand English. Subsequent work by Harrison and Laycock in the 1970s indicates that the stable diglossia that pertained up until Flint’s investigations no longer exists. Flint himself noted its loss, which is apparent from even cursory examination of the 17 recorded dialogues. The following sketch represents an attempt to isolate some salient phonetic and phonological characteristics of Norfuk vernacular as it was in 1957, and to document some of the changes which have taken place up to the present day. The analysis is based on a finite corpus of data (the 17 dialogues: approximately 40 minutes of continuous recorded speech), supplemented by keyword lists of seven presentday speakers of Norfuk vernacular. From this data base, it is possible to: a) convey in some detail the flavour of Norfuk phonetics, b) to lay a basis for further investigation into the evolution of Pitcairn-Norfuk Creole(s), c) to provide something of a yardstick for evaluating the current state of sociolinguistic variation on Norfolk Island today and d) to provide guidelines for those concerned with language revival as to the properties of ‘authentic’ Norfuk vernacular as it was spoken some two generations previous to the present time. Clearly, it is not possible on this data base to reconstruct a comprehensive picture of the phonology of Norfuk. An attempt to do so for present-day Norfuk would probably be misconceived. Norfuk today may constitute a collection of individual speech registers that are parasitic upon the variety of standard Norfolk English which is habitually used in the daily discourse of Norfolk Islanders, outside of the circumscribed contexts in which they use the Norfuk register. Norfuk, as described here, represents a prominent feature in the topography of spoken language variation in Norfolk Island, but its linguistic significance needs to be assessed within a broader sociolinguistic context, the outlines of which are described elsewhere and are the subject of on-going research. Two sets of speech recordings form the basis of the present analysis: (i) a selection from the Flint dialogues recorded in 1957 and (ii) an elicitation of a set of citation forms based on a key word list for comparison of English dialects (Wells 1982; Foulkes and Dougherty 1999) provided by seven regular speakers of Norfuk recorded in November 2002.

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2.1.

The Flint recordings

The 17 tape recorded dialogues were obtained under conditions stimulating customary Norfuk usage, i.e. two or sometimes more informants, with no interviewer present, engaged in a semi-spontaneous conversation on topics that would be expected to elicit Norfuk vernacular usage. The dialogues were partly scripted, but largely spontaneous. The conversations obtained were, for the most part, naturalsounding, expressive, and seemingly unselfconscious. Flint produced two transcriptions of each dialogue with the assistance of the informants, directly following the recording session: an H(igh register) form, English translation, and a broad phonetic transcription of the actual speech in the Norfuk L(ow register) form. The phonetic transcription was obviously allophonic, rather than phonemic, but it was informed by Flint’s extensive knowledge of Norfolk Island and Pitcairn vernaculars. Some analysis of the material had been undertaken and reported previously (Flint 1961), and we made use of this in selecting the materials on which the present paper is based. Flint was interested in the relative impact upon intelligibility, of phonological, lexical and syntactic features of the Norfuk Vernacular for English listeners. He employed a linguist, with considerable experience transcribing English contact vernaculars, but not specifically with Pitcairn or Norfuk, to attempt an utterance-by-utterance English translation, under controlled listening conditions. In this way an intelligibility score for each of the 17 dialogues was obtained. There was considerable variation in the intelligibility scores, reflecting a complex of factors, one of which was the ‘depth’ of Norfuk usage sustained by the participants in a given dialogue. For the present analysis, we selected the dialogue with the lowest intelligibility rating for detailed phonetic analysis, in order to obtain the ‘broadest’ or most authentic samples of Norfuk vernacular, with least contamination by code-switching or interference from the standard English or H variety. The two speakers were a 60+-year-old male and a 60+ female. The dialogue provided approximately 500 words for each speaker. The dialogue was originally recorded on a reel-to-reel tape recorder and subsequently dubbed onto a gramophone recording (LP 33rpm) by Flint. The gramophone recording was digitised for the present analysis (.wav files, 16 bit quantisation, 11.2 KHz sampling rate). The dialogue may be accessed on the accompanying CD-ROM. 2.2.

The keyword recordings

The Keyword list used for eliciting contemporary pronunciation contains a proportion of words that are attested Norfuk forms (indicated in bold on the word list). Speakers were invited to pronounce those items on the list that they recognised as words in Norfuk. This resulted in various selections by different speakers.

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Methodology

A combination of auditory and acoustic analysis was used to describe the phonetic characteristics of spoken Norfuk and to draw some inferences about Norfuk phonology. Some preliminary comment on the method of analysis is required. 3.1.

Phonetic transcription

Phonetic transcriptions were made generally in accordance with the conventions of the IPA, with some slight modifications to the set of vowel symbols used, as noted below. Phonetic transcriptions were guided primarily by auditory impression and secondarily by acoustic (spectrographic) observation. Present day Norfolk Island English falls within the ‘cultivated’−‘broad’ accent continuum of Australian English (Bernard 1989). The speech of many Norfolk Islanders when they are not using Norfuk may be indistinguishable from Australian English to most ears. Contemporary Norfolk English has probably also come under some influence from New Zealand English. These influences of contemporary regional Englishes are relevant for the ecology of language use on Norfolk Island today. However, the predominant formative influence of English on Norfuk, the traditional vernacular, would have been from the variety of 18th-century English spoken by the sailor Adams and the other Bounty mutineers, from the original generation of settlement on Pitcairn Island. Norfuk has its own highly distinctive accent and prosody, but it is frequently code-mixed with Norfolk English. Consequently, Australian English provides an appropriate phonetic frame of reference for evaluating Norfuk speech. In deference to traditions of Australian English phonetics and to the habits of the transcriber, certain liberties have been taken with the IPA symbols for vowel quality transcription. (a) The symbol [a] denotes a low (open) central vowel that is distinctively long [a˘] or short [a] in Australian English (card - cud) with no significant difference in vowel quality. (The symbol [√] is traditionally employed, inappropriately for the lax vowel in AusE cud. A case may be made for adopting the symbol [å] for the lax low central vowel of Australian English.) Norfuk [a˘] sounds identical to the long open [a˘] of AusE (hard) in some speakers and closer to the more retracted [A˘] of RP in others. (b) The symbol [ç˘] represents a long rounded back mid-high vowel in AusE (bought, caught). It is actually closer to cardinal [o] and to the vowel quality of Australian English [U] (put, could) than it is to the mid-low back and rounded cardinal [ç]. Habit is my poor excuse for preserving this transcription practice. There is a small quality difference between these two vowels in Australian

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English (aside from their obvious difference in length). The lips are slightly more protruded for [U] than [ç]. 3.2.

Context, coarticulation effects and undershoot in vowel transcription

Consistent with the view that vowel sounds are interpreted by the ear as contextually coherent linguistic targets, the decision was taken to represent familiar-sounding vowels and diphthongs as they were perceived/heard in whole-word citation forms. The ear always evaluates speech sounds in context and automatically compensates for coarticulation effects and articulatory undershoot, hearing the intended target, rather than the ‘underachieved’ peak in the attained formant trajectory. For example, in the Norfuk vowel cluster (describable as a diphthong followed by a short vowel or as a triphthong) of the word fire, the second element is perceived as a high front vowel [i] or [I]: [faIa]. But if one attends only to the central region of the vowel cluster, isolated from context, this segment has the auditory quality of a low or mid-low front or central vowel [æ] - [´]. Clearly, this is a case of articulatory undershoot of the off-glide target of the diphthong. Our speech perception mechanism automatically compensates for articulatory undershoot when listening to the vowel in whole-word context. In so doing, tacit phonetic and phonological knowledge of the listener is applied to the perception of the auditory stimulus. A more stable percept is achieved by judging vowel quality in whole word contexts, but at the possible cost of undue contamination of phonetic judgements by phonological expectations from the listener’s native language.

4.

Vowels

For characterising Norfuk vernacular, the vowel sounds are far more important than the consonants, which differ minimally from those of Australian or New Zealand English. A preliminary analysis of two of the broadest Norfuk speakers from the Flint dialogues is presented (sections 4.1.−4.3.), followed by an analysis of the keyword citation forms from seven contemporary Norfuk speakers. 4.1.

Single target vowels

To provide an initial characterisation of the Norfolk vowel space, and in order to reference points for inter-dialect comparisons, the single target, lax (short) vowels, ([I], [a], [E], [U]) and long [a˘], were plotted for each speaker, within the vowel space of Australian English (see Figure 1). The formant values for the Norfuk vowels represent average measurements (centroids) obtained from 5−10 tokens per speaker. The formant values were statistically normalised to take account of differences in speakers’ vocal tract size and were plotted using the Bark scale

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frequency transformation. The Australian English reference vowels represent centroid values of the cultivated, general, and broad varieties reported by Bernard (1989). The Norfuk formant measurements were made from stressed lexical items, that occurred in discourse where no vowel reduction was evident. Nevertheless, some shrinkage of the vowel space in relation to Bernard’s measurements is to be expected, because his data were obtained from citation forms spoken in isolation and not culled from connected speech. The somewhat lower and centralised target positions for Norfuk high vowels [I] and [U] are likely due to articulatory undershoot in connected speech compared with the Australian English citation forms. However, the lower target position of Norfuk [E] compared with its Australian English counterpart is significant. One notable instance of allophonic variation was found among these lax vowels. The short front vowel [E] lowers to [æ] before /l/. Although sometimes found as a phonetic tendency among speakers of Australian English, it seems to be more strongly marked in Norfolk vernacular, falling clearly within the vowel quality domain of [æ] (see Figure 1). Flint suggests that there is no native contrast between [æ] and [a] in the Norfuk and that [æ] forms derive from the influence of Australian English through standard Norfolk English (the H variety). However, the data from our two speakers appear to suggest otherwise. Both [a] and [æ] forms are found in lexical items of English origin, but their lexical distribution is different from that of Australian English. In Table 1, bold print indicates [Q] pronunciation in Australian English. Table 1.

Distribution of [æ] ~ [a] in Norfuk (Flint dialogues)

[a]

[æ]

[æ
]

[]

stand that yam than dance laugh hard start partner darling ma can’t

matter and hat am saddle catfish chapel saddle thank fashioned anthem anniversary have granny

as

catch glad bank glad that saddle thank

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Figure 1.

Some Norfuk monophthongs relative to Australian vowels (source: Bernard 1989). Mid vowel formant frequencies, F1 and F2, bark scaled.

If the standard account of the historical split of Middle English short /a/ is correct, these forms may provide a clue to the regional English dialect which had a dominant influence in the formation of the original Norfolk Island contact creole. The original split took place when ME /a/ lengthened (and in some dialects retracted) before voiceless anterior fricatives (laugh, path, grass). Subsequently, and incompletely, the change spread to nasal obstruent clusters (dance, grant, demand), resulting in the well-known regional and lexical variability found in these forms today. Although the data here is limited, it suggests a southern English dialect influence in the formation of Norfuk vernacular. 4.2.

Back vowels

Norfuk may not possess as many phonemic contrasts as Australian English among its back vowels. Further analysis is needed. However, it is clear that, even if the number of contrasts is comparable, their distribution among cognate lexical forms is different, and there are also clear differences in phonetic implementation of the contrasts. Table 2 shows the phonetic correspondences that were found among cognate forms for the distinction between [Å] and [ç˘] which is found in Australian English and other non-rhotic varieties.

Norfolk Island-Pitcairn English: phonetics and phonology Table 2.

793

Correspondences between Norfuk and Australian English [Å] and [ç˘]

Norfuk [] Australian Eng. []

Norfuk [ç˘] Australian Eng. []

Norfuk [ç˘] Australian Eng. [ç˘]

(be)cause what(s) got

off long along on strong sorry

form ‘person, guy’ horse thought all Norfolk morn(ing) more

It is notable that the short counterpart of [ç˘] is much more restricted in its distribution in Norfuk than in Australian English. The Norfuk short [Å] was limited to a few closed-class items, leading one to suspect that at least in earlier varieties of Norfuk there was no productive phonological contrast between long and short (or tense and lax) non-high back vowels. The short vowel forms may simply represent phonetically reduced function words. This is supported by acoustic analysis of vowel quality differences between Norfuk [Å] and [ç], shown in Figure 2.

Figure 2.

Formant plots for Norfuk back vowels: long [ç] and short [Å] (plotted as [å]) shown relative to Australian English monophthongs.

Norfuk [ç˘] occupied a similar position in vowel space to its Australian English counterpart. The short vowel was quite centralised and more broadly scattered

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over vowel space than is indicated by the centroid plots for the multiple tokens of what and got. Phonetically this short vowel is more appropriately labelled [å]. 4.3.

Diphthongs

Norfuk /oU/ (home) has its vowel nucleus close to [ç], somewhat fronted, and usually with a perceptible schwa off-glide (see Table 3). The obvious outlier in this series (all from our male speaker) is the form y’know, which seems to be a borrowing from Australian or standard Norfolk English. Table 3.

Instances of Norfuk /oU/

know y’know

[nç ei

NEAR

i > ia

 ~ i > i

SQUARE

 > a

PALM

a()

START

a

THOUGHT

ç > ç˘

NORTH

ç

FORCE

ç

ç ~ ç > çu

CURE

u ~ uç ~ ç

FACE

GOAT, GOAL

u

o ~ o > ou u

FOOT

u>

BATH

a()

GOOSE

u > u

happY

i~

CLOTH

ç

PRICE

ai > ai > a

lettER

a

NURSE

()

CHOICE

çI

horsES

i>~

FLEECE

i > i

MOUTH

au > au ~ a

commA

a

2.1.1. Monophthongs The 12 RP monophthongal vowels are reduced to 5 in the system of the most “Ghanaian” speakers, i.e. those whose English shows all possible mergers or substitutions of the BrE monophthong system. These vowels are /i, , a, ç, u/. To these are added the half-close /e/ and /o/, which result from the monophthongization of the BrE diphthongs /eI/ and /ou/, so that in total there are 7 GhE monophthongs, a system shared with the other West African Englishes: i

u

e

o



ç a

Some of the simplifications of the monophthong system result from the tendency in GhE to neutralize length distinctions present in RP, resulting in homophony of RP minimal pairs. There are three such mergers of RP vowel oppositions:

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Table 3.

FLEECE-KIT, GOOSE-FOOT and THOUGHT-CLOTH mergers

RP

Example

GhE

i


ip

sit

sheep

seat




p

st

ship

sit

u

ful

pul

fool

pool



fl

pl

full

pull

ç˘

nç˘ti

kç˘k

naughty

cork

n ti

k k

knotty

cock

i


ip

sit

u

ful

pul

ç

nçti

kçk

This process, a pan-African feature of English (Simo Bobda 2000a: 254), tends to occur in the GhE renderings of the RP pairs /i-/, /u-/, and /ç˘- /, i.e. pairs whose second members show a more open (and laxer) realization than the first. That vowel length tends not to be distinctive in such GhE pairs is interesting, since length is a phonological feature in some indigenous languages like the large Akan group or Hausa, which has some currency in the country. There are two other vowel mergers that often result in GhE homophony. These result from a fusion of RP //-// and / /-/æ/-//, vowels not primarily distinguished by degree of openness (laxness). However, RP length differences are more regularly – though not categorically – maintained here: Table 4.

NURSE-DRESS and BATH-TRAP-STRUT mergers

RP

Example

GhE



tn

bnt

turn

burnt

()

t()n

b()nt



tn

bnt

ten

bent



tn

bnt



k t

h t

cart

heart

a()

ka()t

ha()t

æ

kæt

hæt

cat

hat

a

kat

hat



kt

ht

cut

hut

a

kat

hat

Most West African languages do not have central vowel phonemes. Speakers of West African English accordingly replace RP / , , / by front or back vowels. On the other hand, / / – very close to the English low back vowel – is found in many languages and heard in the names Ga, Akan, Dagaari, Dagbani, but does not surface in GhE.

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The almost categorical substitution of the front vowel // for RP // in all contexts is one of the main characteristics that sets GhE apart from other West African Englishes. The latter mainly replace the central vowel by /a/ and /ç/ and only in a limited and predictable number of cases by // (Simo Bobda 2000b: 190). The cause of the substitution of RP // by GhE // is often attributed to L1 influence. Like the other West African languages, the majority of Ghanaian languages lack the central vowel //: in my estimate, based on an examination of the vowel systems of 29 indigenous Ghanaian languages, representing about 87% of Ghana's population, some 14% of Ghanaians are familiar with central vowels. This includes speakers of Ewe, spoken by about 10% of the population – by far the largest Ghanaian language with a central vowel (i.e. [ ]). Note, however, that in all except a couple of very small languages (spoken by a total of about 1% of the population), central vowels are either allophonic variants of front or back vowels, or are heavily restricted in their occurrence. The largest Ghanaian languages, Akan and the Ga-Dangme cluster (the mother tongues of 50% of Ghanaians), do not have central vowels, which may be the reason why RP / , , / are largely avoided in GhE. While central vowels are absent from the majority of indigenous languages, most have //. Sey (1973: 147) maintains that for the Ghanaian speaker of English "the two vowels [ and ] are sufficiently alike to be confused with each other". Although I cannot at present offer a better explanation for the phenomenon, Sey's scenario does not account for the whole story, since it leaves unanswered the question why in the English of countries like Nigeria, whose indigenous languages similarly lack central vowels but have // (observation based on an analysis of 28 Nigerian languages), // is mostly replaced by /a/ and /ç/ – not by //. Colonial input varieties of English may have played a role in the establishment of different correspondences of RP // in the various West African Englishes. The / -æ-/ merger seems to be due to L1 transfer, since none of the main Ghanaian languages has all three vowels. Ghana shares the lowering of the TRAP vowel with most other West African Englishes except Liberian English (Simo Bobda 2003: 21). In fact, the replacement of /æ/ by /a/ is a feature found in all African Englishes, east, west, and south (Simo Bobda 2000a: 254). However, it is in the substitution of RP // that contemporary GhE clearly distinguishes itself from other West African Englishes. While the latter render RP // as /ç/, today's GhE varies between /ç/ and (perhaps more often) /a/. In some cases, // is replaced by //. To start with //, Sey (1973: 147) notes that "the // > /()/ pronunciation is common in the Cape Coast area". This is the region of Ghana that first saw British territorial colonization (territorial expansion going back to the early 19th century), that has had the longest tradition of English-medium schools, and that was the capital until 1877. The indigenous language in and around Cape Coast is Fante (an Akan dialect), and Gyasi (1991: 27) accordingly associates the // pronunciation with Fantes. That RP // > GhE // has long been firmly established in the Cape

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Coast area is illustrated by a remark by the missionary Dennis Kemp, who worked in Cape Coast from 1887 to 1896: A somewhat amusing little accident occurred at the annual school examination. Our scholars, for some inexplicable reason, invariably pronounce the letter “u” as “e,” and will insist, for example, in calling “butter” “better.” The senior scholars were asked to name the principal seaports of England. One little lad thought of “Hull.” But in consequence of the difficulty just mentioned the examiner did not recognise the name, and somewhat absent-mindedly asked in which part of England “Hell” was. (Kemp 1898: 179)

Simo Bobda (2000b: 189) says that today // > // cuts "across all ethnic groups in Ghana" and that its occurrence is lexically or idiolectally conditioned. My own recordings of GhE corroborate this: there is a lot of variation, but // seems indeed to be lexically conditioned. It occurs most regularly in function words like but, us, just, such, and much, but also in a small number of high-frequency lexical items such as month. However, it seems that even in the speech of non-Fantes, // > // replacement is not a particularly new phenomenon: even the oldest speakers, born in the early 1900s and from different ethnic backgrounds, show this characteristic. It must already have been established and widespread in pre-WW I GhE. This does not mean that // > // replacement did not originate with the Fantes: from the earliest colonial days, Cape Coast was the educational centre of the Gold Coast and continues to be an important school and university city today. It was an important teacher training centre and Fante teachers may well have carried the // pronunciation to other parts of the colony in the late 1800s. As mentioned above, the much more frequent substitution of RP // today is /ç/ or /a/, the latter distinguishing GhE from most of the other WafEs. GhE shares // > /a/ with the Hausa English of Northern Nigeria, but the latter appears to be changing towards the dominant Yoruba pronunciation /ç/ (Simo Bobda 2000b: 188). Today, /ç/ and /a/ are in free variation in GhE. One and the same individual may pronounce the tonic vowels in e.g. country, culture, or much as [ç] or [a]. Personal observation suggests that with some speakers, this variability is simply due to linguistic insecurity since both forms are current in GhE today. Simo Bobda (2000b: 187–188) proposes that /ç/ may occur only if certain conditions concerning spelling, assimilation, ethnicity of the speaker, and age are met. However, my data suggests that these factors only partially account for the occurrence of /ç/ or /a/. I will illustrate this by speakers A and B in the conversation accompanying this article: (a) Spelling Simo Bobda (2000b: 188) observes that an spelling may trigger /ç/ in words like love, cover, ton, or honey. This is also illustrated by Speakers A and B’s /ç/ pronunciation of some and its compounds – the GhE convention. But at the same time there are also instances where the pronunciation does clearly not follow the spelling, such as done, nothing, or other, all /a/ in the recording. As such, these

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do not invalidate Simo Bobda’s theory since it allows for /a ~ ç/ variability when there is an spelling. Note however, that a number of words, such as come, are never pronounced with an /a/ in GhE but always with an /a/ even though they are spelt . A psychological factor may explain the /a/ in cases of these high frequency words: it has repeatedly been observed that Ghanaians believe their English to be nearer to the British standard and thus “better” than other West African varieties. In Ghana, /kçm/ is stereotypically associated with Nigeria and is frequently pointed out as one of the differences between Ghanaian and Nigerian English. The categorical /a/ in words of the come type may thus be an attempt by Ghanaian speakers to dissociate themselves from the “bad” Nigerian accent. In addition, Speakers A and B’s /ç/ in drug, understand, results cannot be explained by spelling pronunciation. These observations certainly weaken the usefulness of the factor orthography. (b) Assimilation According to Simo Bobda (2000b: 188), a following rounded vowel and possibly also a rounded consonant favour /ç/ rather than /a/. However, this is dubious for two reasons: first, Simo Bobda's examples of assimilation to a following rounded vowel, suppose and conduct, do not really illustrate the phenomenon since in RP the nucleus of the initial syllables of these words is / /, not //. These words do not therefore meet the input requirements for the / > ç/ substitution process. Second, Simo Bobda's argument that following “rounded consonants” (/b/ is described as +ROUNDED) tend to trigger /ç/ is doubtful, since roundedness is not an intrinsic, distinctive feature of English consonants but is determined by the phonetic context. Possibly, roundedness is confused with labial place of articulation, but even in that case the proposed assimilation rule does not work: cf. drug (Speaker B) and result (A), which both have /ç/ without the following consonant being labial or intrinsically rounded. But note the different vowels in the otherwise phonologically quite similar drug /ç/ and blood /a/ (Speaker B; both voiced throughout, both plosive+liquid+vowel+plosive), which demonstrates that /a/ and /ç/ are used in very similar contexts, in this case before // and /d/, whose roundedness is subphonemic and depends on the preceding vowel and not vice versa. (c) Ga ethnicity Simo Bobda (2000b: 188) maintains that while a generation ago /ç/ was still associated with the Gas, today “the prevalence of /a/ approximates 100% across all ethnic groups”. Judging from my data, this somewhat overstates the case. First, even my oldest non-Ga speakers, born in the early years of the 20th century, show a high rate of /ç/ for RP // (cf. also Schachter's 1962: 18 observation on Twi-speakers around 1960 to the same effect). It is doubtful, therefore, whether /ç/ had ever been an exclusively Ga characteristic. As to the rate of /ç/ in today's GhE, I concur that /a/ has been gaining ground, but it is still far from categorical. This is also exemplified by the recording. Both speakers use 12 tokens each of the STRUT set.

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Speaker A, whose L1 is Hausa, realizes 10 of these with an /a/ (83%), and Speaker B, whose L1 is Twi, 8 (67%). (d) Older age This is the crucial factor accounting for the distribution of /a/ and /ç/. Simo Bobda (2000b: 188) observes that /a/ must have started to replace /ç/ during the last 40 years or so and is today associated mostly with the older generation. I agree that /a/ is the more modern GhE realization, but apparent time evidence in my recordings suggests that it must have started to replace /ç/ earlier than the 1960s. Apart from the few instances of RP // > GhE // mentioned before, speakers born in the first decades of the 20th century almost exclusively replace RP // by /ç/, regardless of their linguistic background and educational attainment. Up to about 1930, this appears to have been the norm, but then /a/ began to replace earlier /ç/. Exactly why and how this /ç > a/ replacement has been taking place is unclear, but there are indications that we are dealing with lexical diffusion here: although there is general /a ~ ç/ variation today, the occurrence of these phonemes is already strictly lexicalized in some words. The GhE pronunciation of e.g. some is always /sçm/, while come is /kam/, across the board and regardless of the sociolinguistic parameters of the speaker. Note that it is not the phonetic/phonological context that determines the occurrence of /ç/ in some and /a/ in come, since both end in a bilabial nasal and assimilation to the place of articulation of the preceding consonant would yield /a/ in some (alveolar /s/ imaginably favouring a front vowel) and /ç/ in come (velar /k/ triggering a back vowel). In fact, the pronunciation /kçm/ come is frequently pointed out by Ghanaians as one of the characteristics of Nigerian English and one of the most salient differences between GhE and NigE. It therefore seems that, at least with some high-frequency words, the replacement of RP // appears to be primarily lexically conditioned. RP / / in unstressed syllables is generally substituted by front and back vowels, depending mainly on orthography and the phonological context: (a) in post-tonic syllables involving spellings, RP / / is rendered as /a/ in open syllables and as // in closed syllables. Compare paper /pepa/ but papers /peps/, and in the accompanying conversation torture /tçt
a/ but tortured /tçt
d/, doctor /dokta/ (both in speakers A and B) but investigators /‚ nvstiets/ (speaker B). Post-tonic syllables of the type favour /ç/, as in honour, dangerous, column, or focus (contra Simo Bobda 2000b: 191–192, who predicts /a/ for , and // for ), though sometimes /a/ can also be heard. /ç/ in open post-tonic syllables, e.g. rumour /rumç/ (speaker A), has been associated with the older generation (Simo Bobda 2000b: 191), but my recordings show that younger speakers use it just as often.

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(b) RP /- n/, tends to be realized as /-in/ rather than /- n/. This affects -ed and -en participle forms, for example taken /tekin/ or spoken /spokin/, but also other words, like e.g. even /ivin/ (speaker B). (c) in other non-tonic syllables, RP / / usually triggers spelling pronunciation. This is illustrated by speakers A and B's about /abaut/, official /ofiia/ and speaker C's submit /sabmit/. There are a few exceptions to this, though, such as alone /lon/. (d) weak forms: Simo Bobda (2000b: 193) reports GhE /a/ for the indefinite article a, but this is decidedly a minority form in my recordings, // being by far the more common realization. The prevocalic form an is pronounced /an/. The distribution of the variants of the definite article the, / ~ d ~ d/ and /i ~ di ~ di/, usually follows that in BrE: /d/ is preconsonantal and /di/ precedes a vowel. There is some degree of variation, though, with the occasional preconsonantal /di/ (the forty women /di fçti wumn/) and /d/ before vowels (the eight women /d eit wumn/) – both speaker A. Vowels in other function words are generally modelled on the RP citation form, that is the RP schwa is replaced by spelling pronunciations, except in and, which is usually /n(d)/ and only sometimes /an(d)/. 2.1.2. Diphthongs (a) RP closing diphthongs GhE tends to monophthongize most of the RP closing diphthongs. This is not categorical, however: one and the same speaker may vary between a monophthong, slight diphthongization (marked by a superscript i or u in the table below), or may retain the RP diphthong. In the case of diphthongization, the RP offglides /-/ and /-/ are usually replaced by /-i/ and /-u/. Table 5. RP closing diphthongs and their GhE equivalents RP

GhE

e

e ~ ei > ei

a

ai > ai > a

çI

çi

a

au > au ~ a



o ~ ou > ou or

or

 ~ i > i

ç ~ çu > çu

As the table shows, all RP closing diphthongs except /çI/ can be monophthongized in GhE, /e/ and /a/ more frequently than /a/ and /a/. The realization of the first segment of RP /e/ and / / varies between /e ~ / and /o ~ ç/, respectively. The

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RP diphthong+monophthong /a / (e.g. desire) and /a / (our) are often smoothed to [a] in acrolectal GhE, often with a falling tone, [a]. Smoothing can often be observed in Ghanaian news speakers (the news on the hour [d nius çn di a]) but is not restricted to this group. Since this phenomenon is also observable in advanced RP, including the spoken media, it is not unlikely that British news language serves as a model here. (b) RP centring diphthongs Like RP, GhE pronunciation is non-rhotic (see below, consonants). In words containing a final orthographic r GhE retains the diphthongization of RP word-final / / and / /, while /e / is mostly monophthongized to []. The latter is often realized with a falling tone [], which to ears not accustomed to tone languages makes it sound like a diphthong. Table 6.

RP centring diphthongs and their GhE equivalents

RP

GhE



i > ia

e

 > a



u ~ uç ~ ç

One particularity of GhE is that RP /u/ is rendered as [iu] rather than [u] in words with orthographic u, ue, eu, or ew, e.g. blew [bliu] (hypercorrect forms such as two /tiu/ and do /diu/ are also heard). This cuts across all age groups and ethnicities, but there is also intra-speaker variability. Roughly, /iu/ occurs about twice as often as /u/. There are a number of possible sources of GhE [iu]: it may result from an analogy to other ew spellings such as in new, or sewage, whose RP /ju/ is rendered as /iu/ in GhE and/or an attempt to approximate the slightly centralized and diphthongized realization of /u/ in advanced RP, in the region of [¨]. Another not unlikely source of GhE /iu/ is the historical Scottish influence through missionaries or the good number of Scotsmen in the Colonial Service. 2.1.3. Factors contributing to variation As mentioned above, the GhE vowel system is characterized by a lot of inter- and intra-individual variation. One source of the latter may be advanced tongue root (ATR) vowel harmony, which is found in a number of Ghanaian languages including Ahanta and the Akan group in the south, and Dagaare and Kasem in the north. The vowels of these languages can be grouped in two sets, advanced and unadvanced, as illustrated here for Akan:

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– advanced vowels – unadvanced vowels

i e

e 

a a

o ç

857

u o

As a general rule, only vowels of one set occur in polysyllabic words. Some speakers carry ATR vowel harmony over to English, so that the advanced and unadvanced members of the two sets become free variants in GhE: [i-e], [e-], [a -a], etc. This accounts for a lot of the vowel height variation observable in GhE and explains pronunciations like agencies [dnses] instead of the expected [ednsis]. It may also account for some unexpected vowels: it was said above that RP /i/ and // merge to /i/ in GhE, so that we would expect three [tri] and six [siks]. Instead, many Ghanaians realize these words as [tre] and [sks], respectively, thereby maintaining the /i – / opposition in RP by replacing the tense-lax opposition by an advanced-unadvanced vowel pair. RP // > GhE // is the more frequent substitution, found in the pronunciation of e.g. it, killed, people, or things. Another area of variability is vowel nasalization. Nasalization is distinctive in many Ghanaian languages and there is a strong tendency for GhE speakers to nasalize vowels before /n/ (much less so before the other nasals). In many cases this is accompanied by the reduction (indicated by a superscript n) or complete loss of /n/, so that we find the following pronunciations of twenty and nine: twenty [twnti ~ twnti ~ twti] nine [nain ~ nan ~ na] In some cases, the loss of final /-n/ leads to near-homophony of pairs like can – car, been – bee, coffin – coffee, etc. These words are then only distinguished by the presence or absence of nasalization in the final vowel: [ka - ka], [b - bi], [kçf - kçfi]. As far as such pairs are concerned, nasalization could be said to be distinctive in GhE. However, since individual speakers use full, reduced, and elided forms side by side (e.g. kçfin - kçf n - kçf), it appears that the nasal is part of the underlying phonological representation of such words and that its reduction or loss are surface co-articulation effects. Vowel ellipsis in polysyllabic words is rather common in Ghanaian Radio and TV English, even more so than in BrE: forms like police [plis], necessary [nssri], operational [çprei
nal], etc. have some currency in the spoken media but also among very acrolectal or language-aware speakers. On the phonetic level, GhE syllable-initial vowels, especially those at the beginning of words, are characterized by glottal reinforcement [V], e.g. hour [aua], all [çl], auditorium [çditçriçm], office [çfis], east [ist]. Other than in BrE, glottal reinforcement does not signal special emphasis but is an intrinsic, sub-phonemic property of vowels in initial positions.

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2.2.

Consonants

As with vowels, there is a lot of variation in the realization of consonants in GhE. In the following, I will discuss GhE consonants grouped according to their manner of articulation in RP under the headings of plosives, nasals, fricatives, affricates, and approximants. (a) Plosives Like in colloquial BrE, T-glottalization and T-deletion have some currency in GhE. Syllable-final /t/ can be replaced by a fully or only weakly realized glottal stop ( or ) or it may be dropped altogether in word-final position. The following examples illustrate instances of T-glottalization and T-deletion: – got – whatever

[çt ~ ç/ ~ ç/ ~ ç] [watva ~ wava ~ wava]

Glottalization and deletion sometimes also affect /d/, as in should [
u/], but this is possibly due to the fact that word-final obstruents are frequently devoiced in GhE, so that /-d/ becomes [-t] and is then glottalized (see also below, fricatives). In the Fante dialect of Akan, /t/ has two allophones: [t] before back vowels and affricated [ts] before front vowels. Speakers of the dialect sometimes transfer this allophony to English and, for example, pronounce the name Martin [matsin]. RP word-initial /kw-/ is reduced to [k] in a number of words, like quota, quote, quarter. However, other words, like quality, remain largely unaffected by this, so it seems that we are dealing with a lexicalized rather than productive phenomenon here. (b) Nasals The loss of syllable-final /n/ and compensatory nasalization of the preceding vowel has been discussed in the section on vowels, above. RP /-/ in progressives or deverbal nouns is more often than not replaced by [-n], cf. morning [mçnin], leading [lidin], the meeting [d mitin]. However, since [-] forms are current too, the GhE underlying representations seem to be /-/. RP does not allow [mb] or [] sequences in the coda, but GhE has almost regular spelling pronunciations like bomb [bçmb], thumb [tamb], climb [klaimb] or sing a song [si  sç], among [amç], and bring [bri]. Spelling pronunciations are not restricted to the colloquial level but are common even in very formal and conservative GhE. Concerning []-sequences: even if certain speakers tend to pronounce specific words without the final [-], they may insert a kind of linking g before a vowel, e.g. do I have to hang it? [du ai haf tu ha it]. (c) Fricatives As in many other varieties of English, RP /, / are often replaced by the dental or alveolar plosives [t
, t, d, d] or they are dropped altogether in word-final position.

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Some speakers also produce affricated versions, [t, d] as in nothing [nati] or they [dei]. Replacement or deletion of the dental fricatives are especially frequent in more informal and mesolectal/basilectal varieties, but they are not altogether unknown even in very formal GhE, particularly the affricated variants. Again, one and the same speaker may vary between [, ] and the corresponding GhE plosives or affricates, so that at least for acrolectal speakers an underlying /, / can be assumed in words like thousand [ausn ~ tausn ~ tausn] or gathering [arin ~ adrin ~ adrin]. In her study of the use of dental fricatives among students at the University of Ghana, Dako (forthcoming) found that women are more likely than men to retain RP dental fricatives (87% of the women were classed as //-retainers and 65% as retainers of //, as opposed to 53% and 37%, respectively, of the men). Word-final /-/ is sometimes replaced by [-f] in words like bath, cloth, mouth, with, eighth. Again, Dako (forthcoming) showed that women prefer the standard form: only 16% of the female informants used word-final [-f], in contrast to 54% of the males. Akan does not have the postalveolar fricatives /
/ and //, but the rather similar voiceless palato-alveolar fricative [] occurs as an allophone of /h/ before front vowels. Furthermore, speakers of Akan are familiar with its voiced counterpart [!] from its occurrence in an allophone of // (see below, affricates). Ghanaians regularly use [, !] as substitutes for BrE /
, /, e.g. in official [çfiia], issue [iiu], sure [iu]. Note that in contrast to the RP version of these words – / f
l, 
ju,
 / – GhE inserts an epenthetic [i] between [] and a following back vowel, in keeping with the allophonic distribution of this fricative in Akan (which occurs only before front vowels). Interestingly, the substitution of [, !] for /
, / is not only restricted to speakers whose L1 is Akan but can also be observed in the English of speakers of other Ghanaian languages, the majority of which does not have /
, / or phonetically near-identical substitutes (although in some languages these sounds have allophonic status). Therefore, a good number of non-Akans have adopted [, !] as substitutes for RP [
, ]. It seems that this phonetic detail has become a truly national, if subconscious, feature of GhE, transcending mother tongue boundaries. However, it has to be pointed out that educated speakers vary between [, !] and [
, ], depending on their level of education and phonetic competence. Still others replace RP /
/ by [s], for example in machine [masin]. These are predominantly speakers whose L1 does not have /
/ (like Frafra) and who have had little schooling and/or little exposure to educated GhE. Probably as a reaction to this stigmatized /
/ > [s] variant, hypercorrect forms like nursery [nri] or bursary [b
ri] are not uncommon, even among educated Ghanaians. As indicated in the section on plosives, there is a tendency in GhE to devoice final obstruents: end [nt], Lord [lçt], news [nius], world [wlt], etc. On the other

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hand, obstruents often get voiced in voiced environments – in intervocalic position (pieces [piziz], taxable [tazabu]), but also if voiced consonants are involved (bursary [bzri], pencils [pnzils]). Such voicing can also be observed across word boundaries, cf. what about [hwad abaut] or first degree [fz diri] or if Ghanaians [iv anens]. As these examples show, it seems that the sibilants /s/ and /
/ are particularly, though not exclusively, affected by this process. At the same time, hypercorrection with regard to final devoicing can lead to pronunciations like dance [daz] or process [prosz]. Such voicing is possibly supported by the fact that final obstruents may become voiced when the following word starts with a voiced sound. Similarly, overgeneralized reversal of voicing leads to hypercorrect vision [vi
in] etc. (d) Affricates Of the major Ghanaian Kwa languages Akan, Ga-Dangme, and Ewe (all located in the southern half of Ghana) only Dangme (spoken by ca. 4.5% of Ghana’s population) has the affricates /t
, d/. These sounds have greater currency in the Gur and Mande languages of Ghana's north, but population density is much lower there. Thus, at least half of Ghana's population is not familiar with /t
, d/ from their mother tongues, but since English is much more widespread in the urbanized south, the proportion of GhE speakers whose L1 lacks these phonemes is probably in the region of three quarters. Before high front vowels, Akan /k/ and // are realized by the allophones [t] and [d!] (orthographically ky and gy), as in kyi ‘dislike’, kye ‘catch’, ky 'share out'. These are sufficiently similar to RP's more fronted /t
, d/ to be employed by GhE speakers as substitutes for these phonemes. Examples are church [tt] or larger [lad!a]. The plosives in these affricates are often reduced, so that forms like major [med!a] are widely used. Similarly to what has been said with regard to the fricatives /
, / above, Akan [t] and [d!] have been adopted by other Ghanaians, so that they are used widely among speakers with a Kwa language background, but also by others. Again, there is [t
~ t, d ~ d!] variability. (e) Approximants GhE is non-rhotic (i.e. non-prevocalic R is usually not pronounced) since its historical model is the British standard. However, in contrast to RP, GhE does not have linking or intrusive R’s. The phonetic quality of GhE /r/ is usually ["] (retroflex approximant as in RP), with which Ghanaians are familiar from some dialects of Akan. A large number of Ghanaians lives and works abroad, in Europe but especially in the United States and Canada. During their absence from Africa, a good number acquires some measure of an American accent and such a pronunciation is regarded by many Ghanaians as a sign of material success, characterizing someone who has made a small fortune abroad. Thus, some features of American English, like rhoticity or

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intervocalic flapping of /t/, are present in the speech of some been-tos ‘returnees from overseas’. Americanisms in pronunciation are also strongly present in radio and TV advertizing and in the speech of radio moderators hosting music programs or other informal broadcasts. It seems, however, that Americanisms are largely restricted to the informal sector in the media; the news, for example, is always read by speakers with a non-rhotic accent. L-reduction and/or vocalization can be observed especially where RP has a syllabic L: available [avelabul], circle [skçl], apple [apç], example [zampu]. In these reduction processes, the vowel preceding L is velarized to [ç ~ u]. These processes also occur in environments where colloquial BrE does not show L-vocalization: will [wçl ~ wul], fiscal [fiska], shall [
a]. Ghanaian languages differ as to the phonological status of /l, r/: in the majority of the Kwa languages, including most of the Akan dialects, Ewe, and Ga-Dangme, [l, r] are in allophonic distribution. Some northern languages like Dagaare, Dagbani, and Kasem have /l/, but [r] occurs only as an allophone of /d/. Other Gur languages, including Frafra and Kusal, have two separate phonemes /l/ and /r/, as does the Kwa language Gonja. Because of this [l ~ r] alternation, especially in the south of Ghana but to some extent also in the north, pronunciations like bless [brs], block [brçk], play [pre], or properly [prçpr] can be heard particularly among less educated, older speakers. The reverse, i.e. [l] for /r/, appears to be less frequent, but one example is problem [plçblm]. GhE pronunciation differs from RP in that orthographic wh- is often rendered as [hw], so that the question words what, where, which, or why are pronounced [hwçt], [hw], [hwit], and [hwai], respectively. This is another feature that could have its historical origin in Scottish influence in the Gold Coast, reinforced by spelling pronunciation. As with many other features, there is again variability, with speakers alternating between [hw-] and [w-]. Another difference from RP is that in GhE we find variable yod-dropping (RP /ju/ > GhE /u/), e.g. in annual [anual], continuing [kçntinuiN], duress [durs] or during [durin]. 2.2.1. Consonant cluster reduction Cluster reduction is a phenomenon that GhE shares with other West African Englishes. It will therefore only be mentioned briefly here. There are two basic strategies to reduce consonant clusters. The first, elision of one or more consonants, is the most common strategy in acrolectal speech. It is illustrated in words like hundreds [handrs] (/dz/ > [z] + final devoicing), artists [atis] (/sts/ > [s]), or texts [tks] (/ksts/ > [ks]). It also operates across syllable boundaries, e.g. in elec.tricity [eltrisiti]. It frequently happens that consonants are not elided but only weakened in their realization, cf. access [akss] or sleeps [slips]. The second strategy is the

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insertion of epenthetic vowels in the consonant cluster. This is more common with less educated speakers. The principle here is that the tone-bearing vowel of the syllable containing the cluster is copied and inserted between the consonants, resulting in forms like strange [seterend!] and skin [sikin]. 2.2.2. Spelling pronunciations Spelling pronunciations of the NASAL + HOMORGANIC PLOSIVE (lamb, tong) and the wh- type (where, which) have already been mentioned in the sections on nasals and approximants, above. Consider also Wednesday /wdnsd/, with a PLOSIVE + HOMORGANIC NASAL sequence. Other near-regular spelling pronunciations are based on st letter sequences, as in castle /kastl/. In the area of vowels, we find ia pronounced in e.g. Parliament [paliamnt] or official [çfiia](but see also 2.2.[c]), and the unsystematic occasional women [wumn]. Another example is country /kauntri/, which can be traced to ex-president Rawlings – he speaks LAFA (see above, 1.1) and established this pronunciation of the word, which is only used by younger speakers. 2.3.

Suprasegmentals

Like other West African Englishes, GhE is syllable-timed, resulting in the characteristic up and down of sentence intonation. A corollary of syllable-timing is that, unlike BrE, GhE does not show vowel reduction in unaccented syllables. Thus, unaccented vowels generally retain their full quality and schwa is hardly ever heard (see also the section on monophthongs in the phonology chapter). The majority of Ghanaians speak a tone language as their L1. In contrast to accent languages like English, these languages show prominence of an individual syllable by realizing it at a higher pitch than neighbouring, non-prominent, syllables. They are also characterized by downdrift, a general lowering of absolute pitch as the utterance proceeds. At the end of a sentence, the tonal register is usually reset (upstepped) and the downdrift starts again. There is a tendency, especially with less educated speakers, to carry these features over to GhE. Accent (or tone) shift can be observed in a number of polysyllabic words. Many Ghanaians move the main word stress forward in words like facilitate, investigate, category, or telecommunication. Backward shift can also be observed, as in Europeans, association, and exchange. Vowel lengthening for emphasis is much more common than in BrE and seems to mirror usage in Ghanaian languages, as in the ubiquitous at aaaaall ‘not at all’. Another common paralinguistic expression of emphasis is the use of creaky voice, often accompanied by voicing of voiceless consonants, cf. speaker B’s did hi se h#wat hi did?

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In that-subordination, informal GhE often places a noticeable pause after, not before, the conjunction: I saw that || they had stolen it. This is possibly a carry-over from Akan, whose complementizer s derives from the verb se ‘say’ and has retained some of the verb’s quotative characteristics (cf. I said || “They had stolen it”).

3.

Conclusion: Major issues in current GhE research

Descriptive accounts of GhE are comparatively few and not always easily available outside Ghana. Since the first studies from around 1950, Ghanaian scholarship has often taken a more practical, pedagogical approach to GhE, discussing its quality and intelligibility to Ghanaians and non-Ghanaians alike and proposing ways in which language teaching can be improved. A good number of these studies show a decidedly prescriptive attitude and deplore deteriorating standards of English in Ghana, echoing public opinion that things “used to be much better” a couple of decades ago. However, to put such claims into perspective it should be noted that concerns about falling standards are not a recent phenomenon – they go way back to the colonial period, as the title of Brown and Scragg’s 1948 Common Errors in Gold Coast English shows, and probably have always been around. Adherents of this prescriptive-pedagogical camp feel that Ghana as a developing country has more immediate needs than identifying (or conjuring up, as they see it) and promoting a local standard of English, as is made poignantly clear by Gyasi (1990: 26): What we need in Ghana to rescue English from atrophy and death is not algebra masquerading as grammar, or the linguistic anarchism preaching the ‘nasty little orthodoxy’ (…) that any variety of English is as good as the other. We need the scholarly but humane and relevant approaches of those distinguished standard-bearers of Standard English, Professor Sir Randolph Quirk and his colleagues, Professors Sidney Greenbaum, Geoffrey Leech and Jan Svartvik.

Whether or not the existence of a distinct GhE is acknowledged very much depends on one’s theoretical standpoint in this debate. The prescriptivists deny the reality of GhE as an autonomous variety and maintain that it essentially is (or ought to be) BrE. Anything else is simply labelled wrong English. In his seminal Ghanaian English Sey lists phonological, grammatical, and lexical “deviances” of GhE but says that “the educated Ghanaian would not ‘accept’ anything other than educated British Standard English” (1973: 7). This is also confirmed by the results of a language-attitude study of 30 educated Ghanaians (Dako 1991), which shows that to this group (a) GhE is an accent but has also some distinct lexical features; (b) British Standard English is considered the target language and therefore the norm in Ghana; (c) anything short of this target is felt to be substandard; but crucially also (d) that RP or any other native accent is not the target in spoken English. That is, it is in pronunciation more than any other area that speakers express their Ghanaianness, and an accent that sounds too British is usually frowned upon or

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even ridiculed. There is thus a double target of GhE: except maybe for the use of some lexical Ghanaianisms, standard written GhE in newspapers, magazines, etc. approximates to an exocentric norm, standard British written English. This is the professed (though not always attained) target in the educational sector and the variety modelled on it is spoken in formal settings by a small number of highly educated Ghanaians and is here tentatively called Cultivated GhE. The target of pronunciation, by contrast, is certainly endocentric, even for most speakers of Cultivated GhE. Many anglophone Ghanaians, however, speak a variety that is further removed from British standard grammar than Cultivated GhE and which could be called Conversational GhE, to emphasize its more informal character. What is urgently needed are (preferably corpus-based, quantitative) descriptive studies of Conversational GhE and of informal and formal writing. These should be complemented by a study of the cline between broken and native-like varieties of GhE, as well as the various and complex interfaces between indigenous languages, Ghanaian Pidgin English and GhE. Though a number of investigations have been based on privately compiled corpora, no text collections documenting GhE are currently publicly available. Ghana is listed as one of the West Africa components of the International Corpus of English, but compilation and computerization of the texts has not neared completion at the time of writing. Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Brown, P. P. and J. Scragg 1948 Common Errors in Gold Coast English. 3rd edition. London: Macmillan. Dako, Kari 1991 Some reflections on English in Ghana. Terminology and Classification. In: Emmanuel Quarcoo (ed.), Proceedings of the Ghana English Studies Association. September 1991, 42-56. Legon: (no publisher). forthcoming Some thoughts about the use of dental fricatives by students at the University of Ghana. Exploration: Journal of the University of Ghana 1(2). Gyasi, Ibrahim K. 1990 The state of English in Ghana. English Today 23: 24–26. 1991 Aspects of English in Ghana. English Today 26: 26–31. Kemp, Dennis 1898 Nine years at the Gold Coast. London: Macmillan and Co. Schachter, Paul 1962 Teaching English pronunciation to the Twi-speaking student. Legon: Ghana University Press.

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Sey, Kofi A. 1973 Ghanaian English. An Exploratory Survey. London: Macmillan. Simo Bobda, Augustin 2000a Comparing some phonological features across African accents of English. English Studies 81: 249–266. 2000b The uniqueness of Ghanaian English pronunciation in West Africa. Studies in the Linguistic Sciences 30: 185–198. 2003 The formation of regional and national features in African English pronunciation. An exploration of some non-interference factors. English World-Wide 24: 17–42.

Ghanaian Pidgin English: phonology Magnus Huber

1.

Introduction

Ghanaian Pidgin English (henceforth GhP) is part of a wider West African Pidgin English (WAP), and accordingly needs to be studied in close comparison with similar varieties in Nigeria and Cameroon. As shown in the history section of the article on Ghanaian English, Afro-European contacts on the Gold Coast evolved in three stages: early trading contacts (1471–1844), colonization (1844–1957), and independence and after (1957–). During the phase of early trading contacts, several Pidgins lexified by the languages of the European merchants developed. Pidginized Portuguese was the earliest, falling out of use only in the second half of the 18th century, some 150 years after the Portuguese lost their supremacy on the Gold Coast. A Pidgin English came into being with the establishment of English traders on the coast from the middle of the 17th century onwards. Structurally, this was considerably simpler and more variable than today’s GhP. The origin of GhP as current today took place in the colonization period. From the 1840s onwards, Africans liberated from slave ships and freed on the Sierra Leone peninsula went back to their respective places of origin, thus spreading an early form of Krio along the West African coast, Nigeria in particular. Historical and linguistic evidence indicates that in the 1920s the Nigerian variety of Krio was introduced to Ghana by migrant workers. This decade can therefore be seen as the birthdate of GhP. For more detailed information on the history of GhP see Huber (1999a, 1999b). 1.1.

Current sociolinguistic situation and varieties of GhP

The multilingual setting in Ghana is outlined in the article on English in Ghana. Huber (1995, 1999a) describes in detail the current sociolinguistic situation with special emphasis on GhP. The following is a summary of the most important facts. GhP, locally known as ‘Pidgin (English)’, ‘Broken (English)’, and formerly as ‘Kru English’, or ‘kroo brofo’ (the Akan term), is a predominantly urban phenomenon. It is spoken in the southern towns, especially in the capital Accra. As will become apparent in the following sections, GhP is confined to a smaller (though growing) section of society than Pidgin in other anglophone West African coun-

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tries. Also, its functional domain is more restricted and the language is more stigmatized. There are two varieties of GhP that form a continuum. Basilectal varieties are associated with the less educated sections of society and more mesolectal/acrolectal forms are usually spoken by speakers who have at least progressed to the upper forms of secondary school. I call these the ‘uneducated’ and the ‘educated/student’ varieties of GhP. The difference between the two GhP varieties lies not so much in their linguistic structure (there are some differences but the two are mutually intelligible) as in the functions they serve: uneducated GhP is used as a lingua franca in highly multilingual contexts, whereas the more educated, or acrolectal, varieties are better characterized as in-group languages whose main function is to express group solidarity. There is a high rate of illiteracy in the linguistically heterogeneous immigrant quarters in southern Ghanaian cities where the uneducated variety has some currency. It is for this reason that Ghanaians usually equate Pidgin with a low level of education. On the other hand, GhP is also used by speakers with a high educational attainment, as among students at the Ghanaian universities. In these contexts, GhP does not fulfil basic communication needs – English is available to all parties in these settings and could be resorted to if no common indigenous language were at hand. Rather, Pidgin is used as a group-binder, to signal group identity and solidarity. Of course, interference from StGhE is much stronger with this last group than it is with uneducated speakers. However, the main differences between the two GhP varieties are lexical, not structural: by its very nature the variety used by the students is characterized by a high number of short-lived slang words, which may only be current on one campus or among one sub-group of students. 1.2.

Uneducated Pidgin

The traditional indigenous language in the capital Accra area is Ga, but there is a high number of immigrants from both inside and outside Ghana. In 1970, over 50% of the population in the Greater Accra Region were immigrants, and the percentage in immigrant quarters (called zongos, from Hausa zango ‘camp, caravanserai’) of Accra, like Nima, Kanda, or Mamobi, was and is much higher. These quarters are characterized by linguistic heterogeneity, overpopulation, slum conditions, and a high level of unemployment. Personal observation suggests that the rate of illiteracy is far higher than the Ghanaian average. There are no reliable data on the ethnic composition of the zongos but one inhabitant enumerated no less than 15 tribes that form distinct communities in Nima, many of them immigrants from northern Ghana, Togo, Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger, besides speakers of Akan, Ewe, and Ga-Dangme. While Hausa, spoken in various forms from pidginized to Standard Nigerian Hausa, is the dominant lingua franca in Accra’s multilingual immigrant quarters, Pidgin English also fulfils this function. Hausa

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seems to derive its ethnic neutrality from the fact that many do not consider it a genuinely Ghanaian language. It also carries some prestige through its association with Islam, the dominant religion in the zongos. Pidgin English draws its neutrality from the fact that it has no native speakers. The label ‘uneducated Pidgin’ does not imply that its speakers necessarily had no or little formal education, but rather that this variety is transmitted and used in non-educational contexts. This is why Ghanaians most readily associate it with unskilled labourers, lorry and taxi drivers, watchmen, household servants, and the like. This type of Pidgin is typically used in multilingual settings characterized by low educational attainment of the speakers – in other words, settings which diminish (but do not necessarily exclude) the usefulness of an areal Ghanaian lingua franca such as Twi (or Hausa) and at the same time preclude StGhE as a language of interethnic communication. Places where this uneducated Pidgin can be heard are lorry stations (taxi or bus ranks), places of trans-shipment where the so-called truck boys load or unload lorries, or workers’ bars. 1.3.

Educated Pidgin: secondary schools and universities

Speakers of the educated variety of GhP had at least some years of secondary education. One variety of educated GhP is spoken in secondary schools, especially by boys in the upper three forms (Senior Secondary School). Schools strongly discourage the use of Pidgin, but boys freely resort to it when unobserved by teachers. This variety of GhP serves as a social register, as an in-group language, being used not so much out of communicative necessity but as a means of expressing solidarity and intimacy with peers. Girls use Pidgin English more seldom than boys, possibly because they are much more susceptible to social norms. Education is an highly esteemed asset and Pidgin is still very much associated with the uneducated section of society. In this context it is understandable that girls should choose to speak StGhE rather than a non-standard variety that bears the stigma of illiteracy. Many of the female pupils do, however, have a passive command of Pidgin. From the schools, Pidgin has been carried into the homes, where it is now used among brothers with secondary education, often to the exclusion of the vernacular. Although it used to be considered offensive to speak Pidgin to girls, I happened to observe a schoolboy courting a girl in Pidgin, which indicates that its function to signal intimacy is apparently being extended to inter-gender relationships. The rise and spread of Pidgin in Ghanaian secondary schools started in the mid-1960s. From the secondary schools Pidgin was soon carried into the universities, where it established itself as the main informal code of male students. It is today heard on campus, in students’ bars, and in the halls of residence. As in the schools, female students rarely speak Pidgin, although independent women may be observed to use it.

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From the schools and universities Pidgin has also been carried into non-educational domains and is frequently heard among male peers in informal situations. Today, educated urban males under 45 years of age can be expected to switch to Pidgin in informal settings. The educated variety is currently spreading fast and is being used in more and more contexts. For one thing, secondary schoolboys or male students increasingly resort to Pidgin rather than StGhE or another Ghanaian language when female peers are present. Moreover, schoolgirls and female students are starting to use Pidgin actively more frequently than just a couple of years ago. In addition, pre-school children of middle class families appear to pick up GhP from their fathers. 1.4.

Pidgin in the police and army

Today, Pidgin has wide currency in the armed forces. Amoako (1992: 44) was informed by a police officer at a training depot that police recruits are taught Pidgin. Ghanaians readily associate Pidgin English with the police and army. 1.5.

Uses, function, and stigmatization of Pidgin in Ghana

The function of GhP is rather restricted in comparison with other WAPs. For example, in contrast to e.g. Nigeria and Cameroon, Pidgin is rarely used in the media. Ghanaian newspapers are almost exclusively in StGhE or Ghanaian languages and even their cartoons, where (quasi-)Pidgin often features in other West African newspapers, are surprisingly standard-like. A kind of mock pidgin is used in satire in some of the political magazines. In these publications Pidgin is attributed to uneducated speakers, policemen, or soldiers. Films are usually in StGhE. There are a few productions in which uneducated characters use Pidgin, but its use on screen is the exception rather than the rule. Pidgin used to be rarely heard on the radio, although Pidgin commercials seem to have come into fashion in recent times. Again it is uneducated characters who speak GhP. The function of Pidgin here is more to amuse and to create an authentic atmosphere than to reach a wider public. Pidgin in Ghana is more stigmatized and less widespread in terms of area and number of speakers than it is in other anglophone West African countries. Especially among the educated section of Ghanaian society (but this is also true for less educated Ghanaians) Pidgin is still frowned upon as a mark of illiteracy and unpolished manners. GhP does, however, enjoy covert prestige: it is one of the preferred codes that a growing number of educated adult males use in an urban, informal, and unmonitored setting: in ‘drinking spots’, discos, among friends, etc. But in formal and traditional situations Pidgin is felt to be inadequate, rude, or disrespectful and a Ghanaian language or Standard English is preferred. As new generations of scholars enter teaching positions at the universities, it is only a matter of time before Pidgin English will be heard in informal conversa-

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tions between university lecturers. This is because unlike their senior and linguistically more conservative colleagues, young male Ghanaian lecturers did speak Pidgin at the time they were students. The considerable stigmatization of GhP in some sections of Ghanaian society contributes to the widespread conviction that there is no true Ghanaian Pidgin and the belief that Pidgin is not a home-grown phenomenon but was introduced from other West African countries, especially Liberia and Nigeria. 2.

Phonology

The sound system of GhP is similar to that of GhE, with a tendency of GhP speakers to use the more basilectal variants. For an overview of GhP phonetics and phonology, the reader is therefore referred to the respective section in the article on GhE. In the following, I will mainly point out those features where GhP differs from GhE. 2.1.

Vowels

As an overview of the GhP vowels, table 1 reproduces the summary table from the article on GhE, which should be consulted for further comments. Table 1.

GhP vowels – summary i>

KIT

FACE

e ~ ei > ei

NEAR

i > ia

 ~  > i

SQUARE

 > a

i

DRESS



TRAP

a

PALM

a()

START

a

LOT

ç

THOUGHT

ç > ç

NORTH

ç

STRUT

a~ç>

GOAT, GOAL

FORCE

ç

FOOT

u>

o ~ ou > ou ç ~ çu > çu

CURE

u ~ uç ~ ç

BATH

a()

u > u

happY

i~

i

GOOSE

CLOTH

ç

PRICE

ai > a > a

lettER

a

NURSE

()

CHOICE

çi

horsES

i>~

commA

a

FLEECE

2.2.

i > i

MOUTH

u

au > a ~ a

Consonants

Plosives (e.g. got [ç]) is less frequent in GhP than in GhE. The reason for this may be that even in its colloquial registers GhE is still very much oriented to-

T-glottalization

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wards the exocentric norm of BrE (whose informal varieties show glottalization). By contrast, in terms of its target GhP is a truly endocentric phenomenon and is therefore less likely to adopt such mechanisms from outside. The notion of degree of endocentricity also explains why T-glottalization is more common in educated than in uneducated GhP. The good command of StGhE of educated GhP speakers frequently results in the carry-over into their GhP of characteristics of the standard variety. Fricatives // and // are virtually absent from uneducated GhP, where they are replaced by /t/ and /d/. As with T-glottalization, educated GhP shows a higher rate of /, /, caused by StGhE interference. GhP, especially in its more basilectal, uneducated variety, shows some measure of replacement of /v/ by /b/ or /f/: seven /sbn/ and shovel /sçful/. This is most frequent with speakers whose L1 is Akan or Hausa, since the phoneme inventories of these languages do not include /v/. Approximants Whether or not the lexifier [] is realized as an approximant or a trill depends on the quality of the r-sound in the speaker’s first language and his phonetic competence. Most of the Akan dialects have an r-sound similar to English [], while other languages spoken in Ghana, e.g. Hausa, have trills or fricatives instead. The trills and the approximant may be used interchangeably or in stylistically different registers (e.g. [r] = basilectal and [] = more mesolectal/acrolectal), but they are not phonologically distinctive. Uneducated GhP, especially the variety spoken by northern immigrants in the zongos, prefers the trill, while the educated variety prefers the more BrE realization. Intervocalic flapping of /t/, acquired by some GhE speakers in the US and Canada, is uncommon in GhP. There is allophonic distribution or free variation of [l] and [r] in the major Ghanaian substrate languages, e.g. in Akan, Dangme, Ewe, Ga, but also in Gur languages like Dagbani and Dagarti. As a consequence, the two sounds may be used interchangeably on the lower end of the GhP continuum. This phenomenon is most common with older speakers who had little formal education, but it is at times also found in other speakers. Examples of /l ~ r/ alternation are broke /blok/ and bottle /bçtru/. 2.3.

Syllable complexity

Consonant cluster reduction, as described in the contribution on GhE, also operates in GhP. However, it has to be pointed out here that GhP – contrary to what is often said about other WAPs – allows complex onsets and codas, mirroring the phonological structure of the words in BrE. Examples of such clusters can be found in

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plant /plant/ (CCVCC), struggle /strç.çl/ (CCCV), street /strit/ (CCCVC), and strange /stend/ (CCCVCC). Again, complex clusters are less frequent in the uneducated variety. 2.4.

Major issues in current research on GhP

So far, little has been published on GhP. Up until very recently, studies on Ghanaian English only mentioned the existence of Pidgin in passing. In his investigation of “Education and the role of English in Ghana” Boadi (1971: 51-2) says that Pidgin is widely used in the larger towns, but is not current among educated Ghanaians. Sey (1973: 3) states that apart from a continuum of more or less educated English there is Broken English and Pidgin, the latter usually associated with uneducated labourers from Northern Ghana or other West African countries. Criper’s (1971: 13-4) “Classification of types of English in Ghana” similarly acknowledges the existence of Pidgin. Since at least the 1980s, there has been an ongoing debate in Ghanaian universities about the supposedly harmful effects that the students’ use of Pidgin has on their academic performance, but most of the articles relating to this question have remained unpublished. The two positions in this controversy are (a) that Pidgin presents a serious threat to literacy and the standard of education in a country that has traditionally prided itself on the high quality of its educational system; and (b) that Pidgin is just one code in the linguistic repertoire of young educated Ghanaians and that it is a useful means of horizontal communication with other anglophone West African countries and of vertical communication (literates-illiterates) in Ghana. The debate about the spread of Pidgin in secondary schools and universities has mainly centred on the measures to be taken to prevent its supposedly harmful effects on the standard of education. The only studies known to me that also seriously investigate the structure of the student variety are Hyde (1995), who describes some lexical aspects and word-formation processes, whereas Ahulu (1995) provides a short sketch of the lexicon and grammar of what he calls “hybridized English”. Kari Dako of the Department of English at the University of Ghana has been researching the variety used on Ghanaian campuses. The stigma Pidgin carries in educated circles may also explain why so few structural or sociolinguistic descriptions of the variety have been published. For some linguists, describing GhE would declare it an object worth serious study and would be tantamount to giving official sanction. Only in recent years has Pidgin started to attract the interest of Ghanaian scholars, who now begin to study the variety spoken on campus. Descriptions of the off-campus (‘uneducated’) variety of GhP are even fewer and again mostly unpublished – see the longer reference list on the CD-ROM accompanying this text.

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Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Ahulu, Samuel 1995 Hybridized English in Ghana. English Today 11: 31–36. Amoako, Joe K. Y. B. 1992 Ghanaian Pidgin English: in search of synchronic, diachronic, and sociolinguistic evidence. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Florida at Gainsville. Boadi, Lorence A. 1971 Education and the role of English in Ghana. In: Spencer (ed.), 49–65. Criper, Lindsay 1971 A classification of types of English in Ghana. Journal of West African Languages 10: 6–17. Huber, Magnus 1995 Ghanaian Pidgin English: An overview. English World-Wide 16: 215–249. 1999a Ghanaian Pidgin English in its West African Context. A Sociohistorical and Structural Analysis. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. 1999b Atlantic English Creoles and the Lower Guinea Coast: a case against Afrogenesis. In: Huber and Parkvall (eds.), 81–110. Hyde, Faustina 1995 On pidginization of English in Ghana. Unpublished typescript. Sey, Kofi A. 1973 Ghanaian English. An Exploratory Survey. London: Macmillan.

Liberian Settler English: phonology John Victor Singler*

1.

Introduction

English is Liberia’s official language. There is a Liberian variety of International English; it is the language of Liberia’s media and institutions of higher learning, and it is the target of language instruction in Liberian schools. The focus of the present article is Liberian Settler English (LibSE), the language of the Settler ethnic group. The Settlers are the descendants of the 16,000 African Americans who immigrated to Liberia in the nineteenth century. The modern Liberian state began with their arrival. In Liberia, formal education has performed an integrative function. The more education a Liberian has had, the more her/his English will correspond to the English of other Liberians of comparable educational achievement, regardless of one’s ancestry and upbringing. Conversely, within the Settler group, those with the least extensive formal education are the ones who speak in the most distinctly Settler way. Even as the Settlers have reclaimed their African heritage, it can be argued that their language – at least the language of the Settlers who have lived in the greatest isolation and who have had the least amount of formal education – has remained North American. Accordingly, the article that follows, while it acknowledges local influence on Settler speech, will be North American in orientation. 1.1.

Other varieties of English in Liberia: Pidgins

The earliest references to “English” along the coast of what is now Liberia date from the very beginning of the eighteenth century. Over the next century the use of “English” grew so much that, in the 1820’s when the Settlers landed and founded their city of Monrovia, the missionary Jehudi Ashmun reported that “very many in all the maritime tribes, speak a corruption of the English language” (African Repository, Nov. 1827: 263). The “corruption” was undoubtedly pidgin English, the ancestor of today’s Vernacular Liberian English (VLibE). (This term, with a slightly different reference, comes from Hancock 1971.) The following quotation illustrates this early pidgin. Attributed to King Jo Harris, a Bassa chief, it appeared in an 1834 article in the Monrovia newspaper, the Liberia Herald: I savey: you man for governor, tell governor, him send one punch rum for dash we (meaning kings)[;] top, tell him send two punch, one for me King Jo Harris, me one, and tother for dash all country gentleman. (Liberia Herald, quoted in the African Repository 1834, 10:123–124; parenthetical assistance in the original)

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The Settlers quickly came to dominate the region and established the independent nation of Liberia in 1847. While the new Liberian government claimed large areas of the interior, it initially took no steps to enforce the claim, and the Settlers themselves remained near the coast. Only at the beginning of the twentieth century did the government send its troops – the Liberian Frontier Force – into the interior to establish control. VLE was the language of the Frontier Force and of the labourers at the Firestone rubber plantation (begun in 1926); the alternative terms ‘Soldier English’ and ‘Firestone English’ for the VLE of the interior reflect the role that these two groups of men played in the pidgin’s dissemination. As noted, the Settlers themselves remained on the coast. The linguistic consequences of the interaction that took place between them and the indigenous people on the coast were overwhelmingly unidirectional, with the language of the powerful – LibSE – influencing the language of the dominated – VLE – but not itself being profoundly influenced in turn. Thus, while the pidgin had at first been a local variety of the pidginized English that developed along the West African coast more generally, the influence of LibSE upon it caused it to diverge sharply from pidgin English in the rest of West Africa. Today VLE is the language of most English-speaking Liberians. It is unique among West African Englishes in that it fits the creole continuum model (DeCamp 1971; Singler 1984, 1997). The massive displacement of Liberians from 1989 onward as a consequence of civil war has thrown together people with no NigerCongo language in common; the circumstances have promoted the use of VLE not only inside Liberia but also outside it, in refugee camps and communities. In addition to VLE, there is or, more accurately, was a second pidgin English. Kru Pidgin English (KPE) was the language of “Kru sailors,” the Klao and Grebo men who worked on board European vessels along the African coast from at least the beginning of the nineteenth century onward. By the latter part of the nineteenth century, “Krumen” also held low-status jobs in British colonies, most numerously on the Gold Coast (modern Ghana) but also Nigeria and Sierra Leone. The pattern quickly emerged whereby males who had grown up in monolingual villages would, at the age of fifteen or so, join a work group headed by an older individual from the village. The group would then travel to its working place and remain for a growing season (in the case of cocoa plantations in the Gold Coast), a year, or a few years before returning home, where they would remain for a comparable period of time. An individual would repeat this pattern on a regular basis until he was 45 or so, at which time he would cease making such trips. Research carried out in a Klao village shows that, for the most part, the Krumen had had little contact with Settlers, and there is little evidence of Settler influence upon KPE, or vice versa (cf. Singler 1990). Changes in maritime practice and, especially, the removal of the British colonial presence have eliminated a role for Krumen in Ghana and elsewhere. As a result, as old Krumen die, their pidgin is dying out. VLE has made inroads into the Klao and Grebo villages that had provided the British with

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Krumen; thus, if the children and grandchildren of the old Krumen are acquiring a pidgin, it is VLE, not KPE. 1.2.

The history of LibSE

LibSE is a direct descendant of the nineteenth-century African American English (AAE) that the immigrants brought with them. While the existence of features in LibSE has been used to show that putative innovations in modern African American Vernacular English (AAVE) have in fact been around for a long time (cf. the chapter on LibSE syntax and Singler 1998), LibSE is not itself nineteenth-century AAE; it has had 175 years in which to undergo change from that “starting point.” The political state of Liberia represents the legacy of an early nineteenth-century American attempt to solve an American problem by, quite literally, getting the problem to go away. The “problem” involved the status of free African Americans. They were American citizens, yet the discrimination against them everywhere in the US was so pervasive that many people held that they would always be subject to an inferior status. In 1816 white clergymen founded the American Colonization Society (ACS) in Washington, DC, and in 1822 the Society placed its first group of African American colonists in what was to become Liberia. The ACS had as its goal the founding of a colony in Africa where free people of color could enjoy the full privileges of freedom. Setting up such a colony – Liberia – proved extremely costly, and most of the funding actually came from Southern slaveholders who saw the presence in the US of free African Americans as a threat to the status quo. The connection between slaveholders and the ACS served to discredit the ACS among the free African Americans whom it most sought to recruit. The mortality rate among colonists during the Liberian scheme’s first two decades was “shockingly high” (Shick 1980: 27); news of this further dissuaded those with a choice from immigrating there. In the decades prior to the American Civil war, a majority of those who immigrated to Liberia had been slaves emancipated on condition that they immigrate. Over the first 25 years of immigration to Liberia, the largest number of African Americans came from Virginia followed by Maryland and North Carolina. Subsequently, Georgia sent large numbers of immigrants and South Carolina as well (cf. Singler 1989). While the Settlers established communities along a 250-mile stretch of the Atlantic Ocean, from Robertsport in the northwest to Harper in the southeast, most of the colonists settled in Monrovia or in nearby communities along the banks of the St. Paul River. From the outset Settler politics and society were dominated by those who had emigrated from Virginia and states north of it. A second population also arrived in Liberia in the nineteenth century, Recaptured Africans. They were individuals who had been on slave ships headed to the Western Hemisphere when these ships were intercepted by the US Navy. Almost all of them came from the Congo River; the Liberian term for Recaptured Africans

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is “Congo.” (This is the Liberian spelling, as illustrated by the name of a Monrovia neighborhood, “Oldest Congotown,” but the pronunciation is [kçgç].) In all, more than 5700 Recaptured Africans were delivered to Monrovia, 4700 of them in or around 1860. The one numerically significant group of Recaptured Africans not from the Congo River region was a boatload of Yorùbá people from the Nigerian coast; upon arrival in Liberia, they were placed in Sinoe County. Like the Settlers, the Recaptured Africans had no pre-existing ties to the indigenous population. They entered into the lower echelons of Settler society and became part of that group. Ultimately the term “Congo” came to be used to refer to the Settlers as a whole. While it carries a somewhat pejorative connotation, it is also by far the most common term used today to refer to the Settlers. In the same way, “Congo English” is the most common designation for what I term “Liberian Settler English.” As for specific Bantu elements or, representing a smaller presence, Yorùbá elements, I have never been able to identify any in Settler speech. That is not to say they don’t exist, only that my search has not uncovered them. In the discussion that follows of Settlers today and their language, the term “Settler” is meant to encompass Recaptured Africans as well. The fundamental demographic divide in Liberia from 1822 onward has been that between Settlers and indigenous people. The Settlers perceived themselves as superior. They held that their westernness, with its Christianity and English literacy, endowed them with the right to rule. In an 1860 Liberian Independence Day oration, the Cambridge-educated Episcopal priest the Rev. Alexander Crummell proclaimed: Here, on this coast ... is an organized community, republican in form and name; a people possessed of Christian institutions and civilized habits, with this one marked peculiarity, that is, that in color, race, and origin, they are identical with the masses around them; and yet speak the refined and cultivated English language (1862: 9).

In his speech Crummell recalled that in an oration two years earlier he had … pointed out among other providential events the fact, that the exile of our fathers from their African homes to America, had given us, their children, at least one item of compensation, namely, the possession of the Anglo-Saxon tongue; that this language put us in a position which none other on the globe could give us; and that it was impossible to estimate too highly, the prerogatives and the elevation the Almighty has bestowed upon us, in our having as our own, the speech of Chaucer and Shakespeare, of Milton and Wordsworth, or [sic] Bacon and Burke, of Franklin and Webster ... (1862: 9)

Crummell’s rhetoric embodies the Settlers’ assertion that their literacy in English endowed them with the right to dominate the non-English-speaking population. In modern times members of indigenous ethnic groups have asserted their right to participate in Liberian government, but they have never challenged the primacy of English.

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From the arrival of the earlier Settlers to the present day, a discrepancy has endured between the Settlers’ language about language, specifically about written standard English, and their own command of English literacy and standard English. For, even by the most rudimentary criteria, only a minority of the early Settlers were actually literate. Not one of the colonists who arrived in the first few years of settlement had had even a “plain English education” (Family Visitory, quoted in the African Repository 1825: 236). A remark a generation later showed that there had been little change over the years: a Settler complained that among those who were newly arrived “[m]en of means … [are] exceptions … to the common rule, that is the no money, no A.B.C. men, that come directly from the plantation &c.&c.” (Liberia Herald August 2, 1854). Certainly Liberia in its early days featured a Settler intelligentsia, a handful of highly educated immigrants (cf. Singler 1976–1977). They were, however, so few in number that from the outset the Settlers found it difficult to establish and maintain schools for their children. Because their own children were not being well-educated, Settler leaders objected to missionary efforts to educate indigenous children. Nonetheless, the Settlers’ limited literacy and their difficulties in maintaining schools do not gainsay the central role of the book in such key Settler institutions as government, religion, formal schooling, and the Masonic lodge. The Settlers, occasionally with the timely support of a US gunboat, established their hegemony along the coast. As noted, they extended their control into the interior early in the twentieth century. Never more than 3% of Liberia’s population, the Settlers ruled Liberia until a military coup in 1980 placed Samuel Kanyon Doe, an indigenous Liberian, in power. Even though the 1989–1997 civil war and subsequent rebellions have not been simply or even primarily about the Settlerindigenous divide, that division remains a defining feature of Liberian politics and society. The discussion of LibSE phonetics and phonology below, like most of my research on LibSE, focuses on the LibSE of Sinoe County, 150 miles down the coast from Monrovia. Founded by the Mississippi Colonization Society to be Mississippi in Africa, the Sinoe Settlers differed from other Settlers both in their provenance and in their post-immigration history. Far more than was true of other Settler communities, a significant number of people who immigrated to Sinoe came from large plantations (rather than small agricultural holdings or cities), and a far greater proportion came from the Deep South, particularly Mississippi and Georgia. Abandoned by the Mississippi Colonization Society almost immediately, the Sinoe settlements received far less support from the central government in Monrovia than did the other Settler communities. Moreover, Sinoe was the one cluster of Settler communities without a significant missionary presence in the nineteenth century. Taken together, the lack of government resources and the absence of missionaries mean that standardizing forces would have been weaker in Sinoe than elsewhere. Finally, except possibly for Maryland-in-Africa, nowhere else was Set-

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tler-indigene hostility so intense and so protracted. All of these factors appear to make Sinoe the likeliest stronghold in Liberia and possibly in the entire African American diaspora for the ongoing retention and transmission of the vernacular features that African American émigres had brought with them from the US. In evaluating the speech of Sinoe Settlers, the impact of formal education upon an individual’s speech must be considered. In Sinoe as elsewhere in Liberia, the more schooling someone has, the less distinctively Settler the person’s speech will be, particularly in a formal setting such as a recorded interview. (Among the elders whose interviews form the Sinoe Settler corpus, five had at least begun secondary school, six had completed fourth, fifth, or sixth grade, and three had had no formal education to speak of.) Strictly speaking, within the Sinoe corpus, a speaker’s occupation was a more consistent indicator of a speaker’s style in an interview, with teachers least likely to use distinctively vernacular Settler features, that is, even less likely than non-teachers who had had more extensive formal education. For all speakers, but for teachers most of all, the question arises as to the extent to which they controlled and used two varieties, one the in-group Settler English, the other a variety that was less distinctively Settler. Within Sinoe, there is a political – and linguistic – distinction between the county seat, Greenville, and settlements up the Sinoe River. In modern times Greenville is perceived as everyone’s county capital, but upriver settlements like Lexington, Louisiana, and Bluntsville are recognized as “belonging” to the Settlers. Thus, the speech of the upriver Settlers shows much less accommodation to the speech of non-Settler Liberians. A further point in considering the LibSE of Sinoe County is its relationship to the LibSE of the rest of the coast. The rest of Liberia’s Settler English has been studied very little; however, what seems to show up is that the difference between Sinoenians and non-Sinoenians is more quantitative than qualitative. On limited evidence, then, it is usually the case not that Sinoe Settlers use a greater number of distinctive features (here, distinctively American, and, usually, distinctively African American) than other Settlers, but rather that they use them more often. At the same time, there may be some instances in which non-Sinoe Settlers use standard-like features that Sinoe Settlers do not. For example, because Sinoe Settler speech shows a strong preference for CV syllables, the grammar blocks contracted forms of will, e.g. I’ll; non-Sinoe Settlers, on the other hand, do use I’ll and the other ’ll contractions.

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2.

Phonetics and phonology

2.1.

Phonemic inventory

2.1.1. Vowels Table 1. KIT DRESS TRAP LOT STRUT FOOT BATH CLOTH NURSE DANCE BED

The vowels of LibSE according to Wells’s lexical set >e  æ  u> æ  > $ æ e

FLEECE FACE PALM THOUGHT GOAT GOOSE PRICE CHOICE MOUTH

i e >æ ç o u a > a$, ai $, i >  u, au

NEAR SQUARE START NORTH FORCE CURE happY lettER horSES commA

i ,  > e i, > e  > e, æ o, ç3 o, ç3 o i > >

(DANCE and BED are not part of the lexical set, but they have been included here to distinguish their vowels from those in TRAP and DRESS, respectively.) LibSE can be said to have ten or eleven monophthongs, depending on whether // and / / are considered to be distinct. While there is a contrast between high front vowels between /i/ and //, there is no consistent corresponding contrast in the back. Instead, a word like foot is ordinarily realized as [fu] or [fut]. LibSE has five front vowels, illustrated by the minimal quintuple beat, bit, bait, bet, and bat. When occurring before a nasal consonant, the /æ/ and // are raised, but the contrast with other vowels is preserved. Before voiced stops, what was historically // has undergone raising to [e]. Thus, head is pronounced [he] or [hed]. The infrequency with which the following voiced stop is realized on the surface in such words has led to the re-analysis of American English bed when it has the meaning ‘an area of ground where flowers or plants are grown’ as LibSE bay. Further acoustic work is needed to determine the basis of the following contrasts: /i/ vs. //, /e/ vs. //, and /o/ vs. /ç/. The question is the extent to which the contrasts are based on differences in length, height, and/or peripherality. It is also possible that a tense/lax distinction forms the basis for the contrasts; if that is so, it would be necessary to address the relationship of the tense/lax distinction to the other distinctions, an ongoing issue in the study of English vowels. The American English generalization that lax vowels other than / / can only occur in closed syllables does not hold on the surface in LibSE: [t] is a common pronunciation of tell, and [s] of sit. In the case of /e/ vs. // and /o/ vs. /ç/, there seems to be a clear height difference, with the first of the two vowels the higher of the two.

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Diphthongs are frequently monophthongized, particularly the diphthong in PRICE. The diphthongs in PRICE and CHOICE are nearly homophonous, with the nucleus of the vowel in PRICE slightly lower than the nucleus of the vowel in CHOICE. The greatest range of variation among speakers involves the vowels in NURSE, NEAR and SQUARE. In the case of NURSE, the nucleus tends to be mid and central, but there is variation both in height (from mid-low to mid-high) and backness (from central to somewhat front). For some speakers at least, the vowel sometimes ends with a high, central upglide. The vowel in NEAR is always front, but speakers vary not only in their realization of the vowel (i, , or e) but also as to whether it is followed by / /. Thus, /i/, /i /, //, / /, /e/, and /e / are all possible realizations. The range and number of vowels in LibSE place it in contrast with VLE and with other Liberian languages. For most speakers of VLE, there is an eight-vowel system, a basic seven-vowel system plus / /. Most of Liberia’s Niger-Congo languages have the basic seven-vowel system, though Klao and Grebo have nine owing to an ATR contrast. 2.1.2. Consonants (a) Obstruents The consonant inventory in LibSE is the same as that for American dialects of English except that LibSE does not have the voiced interdental fricative //; /d/ shows up instead, as in they [de]. Its voiceless counterpart, //, does occur, but only in syllable-initial position and only variably. Thus, thatch is pronounced both [æ
] and [tæ
]. In syllable-final position, /t/ or /f/ is used, e.g. both [bof], teeth [tit]. Loanwords from Niger-Congo languages and VLE with labiovelar consonants are extremely rare in LibSE, and many speakers convert the labiovelar to a bilabial, so that Kpanyan, a district in Sinoe County, is realized as [paya] rather than [kpaya]. The affricates /t
/ and /d/ occur in syllable-initial position, as in child and jail. In other environments, the corresponding fricative occurs, e.g. teach [ti
], age [e]. Obstruents in LibSE are sometimes subject to syllable-final devoicing . (b) Sonorants In LibSE, the sequence VN syllable-internally is frequently realized as V) i.e. with the nasality transferred to the preceding vowel and the nasal consonant not realized, e.g. /time/ [ta]; however, when the sequence is VNV, the consonant is resyllabified rather than deleted, e.g. timer, [ta.m ]. Also, /l/ is often not present in coda position. Thus, small is realized as [sm ], tell as [t]. That /l/ is present underlyingly is readily demonstrated by the addition of a vowel-initial suffix, which triggers resyllabification of the lateral, i.e. telling [t.le]. The other liquid, /r/, has

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disappeared entirely from final and preconsonantal environments. In a few cases where /r/ occurs after a stressed vowel, /r/ and the unstressed vowel that follows it have dropped out. Accordingly, carry is realized as [k], Merican ‘Settler’ as [mk]. Despite its absence in these environments, /r/ usually does show up in onset clusters, e.g. tree [tri], priest [pris]. However, in words where the syllable preceding the onset cluster is stressed, then the /r/ often goes unrealized on the surface, e.g. secretary [sk tri], cartridge [k t]. One of the speakers whose interview forms part of the Sinoe corpus had a distinctive velar /r/ like that found in Sierra Leonean Krio. It is not clear whether the speaker’s velar /r/ was idiosyncratic or was instead a relic of a pattern that was more common in the past. In the Sinoe Settler speech community as a whole, the word shrimp has changed to swimp [swm], a sound change consistent with a velar /r/. An elderly Settler teacher in an upriver settlement in Sinoe, asked if there was any other name for "crawfish," answered, "Yes, swimp [swm], s-w-i-m-p.” 2.2.

Suprasegmentals

2.2.1. Syllable structure: the status of the coda LibSE’s treatment of coda consonants distinguishes it from North American varieties of English. Specifically, it is the frequency with which coda consonants are absent on the surface that sets LibSE apart from its North American cohort. The difference is not absolute: all dialects of English are given to dropping the /d/ and /t/ in phrases like sand castle and fast car. However, the surface absence of coda consonants is far more frequent in LibSE than in North American dialects. Moreover, this statement applies not only to the simplification of coda clusters as in sand castle and fast car (simplification by the omission of one of the consonants in the cluster) but also to the absence of single coda consonants, e.g. what [w ], place [ple]. There are no morphemes in LibSE that contain coda clusters. When the first element of a cluster is a nasal consonant, the nasalization shifts to the preceding vowel, and the nasal consonant drops out, e.g. think [tek], camp [kæp]. In all other cases, i.e. in all the instances where the consonants in the coda cluster are both oral, a segment simply drops out. Thus, lC clusters have lost the l, e.g. false [f s]. When a cluster consists of a fricative plus a stop, the stop has dropped out, e.g. desk [ds] and raft [ræf]. When the cluster consists of two stops, the second one (which is always alveolar) drops out, e.g. act [æk], except [sp]. The only time when a word (as opposed to a morpheme) displays a coda cluster on the surface is when the plural is added, e.g. jobs [d bz], face caps [feskæps] ‘baseball caps’. Surface clusters like this are relatively rare; usually, when a plural marker is added, the preceding consonant drops out, e.g. jobs [d z], face caps [feskæs].

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As indicated, individual coda consonants are variably absent on the surface, e.g. God bless [g bl]. Stops are more likely to be absent on the surface than fricatives (and /l/ more likely than stops). A third alternative, arguably intermediate between presence and absence of a coda consonant, is the consonant’s replacement by a glottal stop, e.g. all right [çra]. While a glottal stop is most likely to stand in for a voiceless stop, it can take the place of any obstruent. At the same time that LibSE speakers show far fewer individual coda consonants than do speakers of AAVE or other dialects in North America, they show vastly more individual coda consonants than do speakers of VLE, the latter having transferred to VLE the prohibition in Liberia’s Niger-Congo languages against coda consonants (categorical in Kru and Mande languages, widespread but not categorical in the Atlantic languages Gola and Kisi). 2.2.2. Prosody (a) Stress-timing The prosody of LibSE sets it apart from all other Liberian varieties of English and, indeed, all other Liberian languages. All of the languages other than LibSE - including VLE at its most acrolectal – are strict syllable-timed languages. Essentially, every syllable gets equal weight and, consequently, vowel reduction rarely occurs. In contrast, LibSE is far less syllable-timed, hence more stress-timed. It seems appropriate to position the syllable-timed languages of Liberia at one pole, white northern American dialects of English at the opposite pole, and LibSE somewhere in between (cf. Thomas and Carter 2003). Certainly, there is far less vowel reduction in LibSE than in the white dialects of American English. (b) Rate of speech A characteristic of some Settler men is an extremely rapid rate of speech. In the Sinoe corpus, some men speak very, very fast; no women do. My awareness of a sex difference in this regard was brought to my attention in a Settler community in Grand Bassa County. I commented to a Settler friend that I had sometimes been unable to understand his uncle because of the uncle’s rapidity of speech. My friend’s answer was that this was how some men talked. My friend’s uncle and also the fastest talker among the Sinoe Settlers were both members of the clergy. It is possible that fast speech is intended to signal erudition and formal education, but only among men.

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3.

Conclusion

The phonology of LibSE is an understudied topic. I have tried to show that it is, nevertheless, an important one in its own right and in the comparative study of AAE in the diaspora. * A National Science Foundation grant and a National Endowment for the Humanities summer stipend made possible my research on the Liberian Settler English of Sinoe. I am grateful to the Rev. D. Hosea Ellis for his assistance throughout. I wish to thank the older heads of the Settler community in Sinoe County for allowing Hosea and me to carry out sociolinguistic interviews with them. Peter Roberts Toe and Comfort Swen Toe facilitated my research in Sinoe. I thank Paul DeDecker for his assistance in mapping Settler vowels.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Ashmun, Jehudi 1827 in: African Repository 1: 261. Crummell, Alexander 1862 The Future of Africa, Being Addresses, Sermons, etc., Delivered in Liberia. New York: Scribner. DeCamp, David 1971 Toward a generative analysis of a post-creole speech community. In: Hymes (ed.), 349–370. Hancock, Ian F. 1971 Some aspects of English in Liberia. Liberian Studies Journal 3: 207–213. Shick, Tom W. 1980 Behold the Promised Land: A History of Afro-American Settler Society in Nineteenth-century Liberia. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Singler, John Victor 1976–77 Language in Liberia in the nineteenth century: The Settlers’ perspective. Liberian Studies Journal 7: 73–85. 1984 Variation in tense-aspect-modality in Liberian English. Ph.D. dissertation, UCLA. 1989 Plural marking in Liberian Settler English, 1820–1980. American Speech 64: 40–64. 1990 The impact of decreolization upon TMA: Tenselessness, mood, and aspect in Kru Pidgin English. In: Singler (ed.), 203–230. 1997 The configuration of Liberia’s Englishes. World Englishes 16: 205–231. 1998 What’s not new in AAVE. American Speech 73: 227–256. Thomas, Erik R., and Philip M. Carter 2003 A first look at rhythm in Southern African American and European American English. Paper presented at NWAVE 33, University of Pennsylvania.

Cameroon English: phonology Augustin Simo Bobda

1.

Introduction

Cameroon English (CamE) will be understood in the present study as the English of the educated Anglophone Cameroonian. Although the notion of education is vague and elusive, the data for the analyses are generally taken from the speech production of university graduates and professionals of all walks of life. CamE is meant to be clearly distinct from Cameroon Pidgin English, and from the speech of the typical Francophone which can be considered a performance variety, even though it is largely influenced by the English of the Anglophone compatriots. By the turn of the century, CamE has been shown by various authors, starting with Todd (1982), to have a high degree of stability (see also Simo Bobda 1994). Despite some predictable ethnic and educational variations, CamE is fairly homogeneous, due partly to the relatively small size of the Anglophone population on which it is basically modelled; the two Anglophone provinces cover 9% of the national territory with 42,210 square km, and have about three million inhabitants, which represents about 20% of the country’s population.

2.

The sounds of CamE

2.1.

The vowels

Seen through the realisation of the standard lexical sets (Wells 1982), the vowels of CamE appear as follows: KIT

The most common realisation of the KIT vowel in CamE is a tense and relatively short /i/ as in sit, bit, pity, myth, English [sit, bit, piti, mit, ili
]. The KIT vowel thus clearly merges with the FLEECE vowel. When the KIT vowel in Wells’ paradigm results from vowel reduction, its realisation in CamE is generally suggested by the underlying strong vowel, usually reflecting the spelling. Thus, words with post-tonic have /e/ (the restructured form of the FACE vowel), as in popul[e]ce, vill[e]ge, mount[e]n, liter[e]te; women and words in have //: wom[]n, paint[]d, usel[]ss, happin[]s. Note the particular behaviour of the vowels of horsES words and words with past tense -ed. There is no special provision for them in Wells’ (1982: 128) list. But Foulkes and Docherty (1999) set them apart as showing variations in the Sheffield accent

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different from the other KIT vowels. CamE also presents a different picture: while horsES words have /i/ (hors[i]s, clash[i]s, judg[i]s, -ed words have //, as shown above. The other realisations are suggested by the spelling (e.g. [skuit, sekuit] circuit, [bjuzi] busy), or analogy with some existing pattern. Thus coward[ai]ce and jaund[ai]ce are induced by the analogy with dice, d[ai]vorce, and b[ai]gamy by the analogy with the pronunciation of the prefixes di-, and bi-, respectively, in many words; imp[ai]ous by the analogy with pious; [ai]diosyncracy, -atic by the analogy with idea and its derivatives; h[ai]deous by the analogy with hide; h[ai]biscus, h[ai]pocritical by the analogy with other words with [hai-] (hibernate, hypertension, hypercritical); v[ai]neyard by the analogy with vine; Cather[ai]ne, femin[ai]ne, mascul[ai]ne, favour[ai]te, gran[ai]te, infin[ai]te, later[ai]te, (less commonly fam[ai]ne, genu[ai]ne, defin[ai]te) by the analogy with the many English words in –ine and –ite which have /ai/. Note finally the dropping of the KIT vowel represented by final e in some words of foreign origin, like [apçkçp, fçt, haipbçl, sikçp] i.e. apocope, forte, hyperbole, syncope. DRESS

The main splits in the KIT set, as seen above, warrant the establishment of at least two other sets which I will call the paintEd and villAge sets. The paintEd set would comprise words in -ess (actress, princess), -less, -ness, -men. The villAge set would comprise words in –ace, -ain, -ate, -ein. RP has only one mid-front vowel, which many authors situate slightly above cardinal vowel No 3. It is represented in many systems of transcription, including the one used by Wells’ UCL Department of Phonetics, with the symbol /e/ which, in strict phonetic terms, is the symbol for cardinal vowel No 2 which does not represent the exact quality of the DRESS vowel. Since RP has only one mid-front vowel, the use of /e/ poses no major problem. But the situation is different in CamE, which offers an interesting split of the DRESS vowel. The regular realisations of the DRESS vowel are // and /e/, which are in complementary distribution in some cases: // occurs in final syllables as in pen, rest, breast, while /e/ occurs before one and only one medial consonant, and before Cj, Cw and Cr sequences as in element, medical, special, educate, equity, equalize, metric, retrograde. The tensing of // to /e/ in this context is known in the literature (Simo Bobda 1994: 181f) as the E-Tensing Rule. /e/ further occurs frequently before the sequences mC and nC as in embassy, emperor, member, centre, mention. /e/ finally occurs with the common word says, as a result of the local restructuring of the FACE vowel induced by the analogy with say and other words in orthographic ay. Other realisations of the DRESS vowel are induced by some analogy with an existing pattern. S[i]nate is thus due presumably to the influence of seen, scene; Gr[i]nwich is induced by the pronunciation of green; m[i]dow, p[i]sant, z[i]lous,

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cleanly (adjective) are induced by the majority of the words in ea pronounced with /i/; and /i/ in de-, pre-, and re- words like d[i]claration, pr[i]paration, r[i]servation is induced by the pronunciation of declare, prepare, reserve, etc. Loose resemblance with words beginning with –in, -inter, etc. can be held responsible for [i]nter, [i]ntrance, while English, England can be seen as the source of confusion for CamE [i]ngine, [i]ngineer. Finally, the non-application of the RP rule of Trisyllabic Tensing is responsible for /i/ in ser[i]nity, supr[i]macy, obsc[i]nity, and /i, i /, the CamE version of the NEAR vowel as shown below, in aust[i, i]rity, sinc[i, i]rity, sever[i, i]rity, which correspond to the pronunciation of the bases austere, sincere, severe, respectively. TRAP

The TRAP vowel is generally realised as /a/, the primary cardinal vowel No 4 (e.g. in man, tap, hand, thank, arrow, saddle). The other realisations are due to the analogy with some existing pattern. For example, [plet] plait is due to the analogy with other words with ai (maid, plain, trail) where the FACE vowel is locally restructured to /e/. /e/ further occurs in a sizable number of words where the RP Trisyllabic Laxing rule does not apply, and the vowel of the base is maintained; e.g. s[e]nity, prof[e]nity, (quite often) n[e]tional and decl[e]rative. The occurrence of /e/ in [rieliti] reality is difficult to account for. Finally, the /ç/ of [ç]lgiers,[ç]lgeria is presumably due to the analogy with other words with al like chalk, salt, talk. LOT

The LOT vowel is generally realised as /ç/, roughly in the position for cardinal vowel No 6, and merges with the THOUGHT and FORCE vowels. A spelling-derived /a/ occurs in a number of words, after w(h) and qu as in wander [wanda], want, warrant, watch, swallow, swamp, swan, what, squad, squalid, squash, swallow. STRUT

The STRUT vowel is characteristically rendered as /ç/ (e.g. in number, son, tough, blood, does), and thus merges with the LOT, THOUGHT and FORCE vowels. One often hears [wan, kam] one, come which can historically be ascribed to the influence of the pronunciation of the Cameroon Pidgin English of these words, which indeed have /a/. // is further heard for but and, by some speech-conscious speakers, in words like cut and discuss. The influence of spelling yields /u/ in words like Brussels, buffalo, buttock, buttress, lumbago, culprit, and occasionally supplement and its derivatives. Finally, many Cameroonians have /au/ in southern (under the influence of south) and in country under the influence of other words with like count, county, round, sound, and for pronunciation whose spelling is often changed to *pronounciation.

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FOOT The FOOT vowel is almost systematically realised as a tense and relatively short

/u/ (e.g. in good, cook, put, full, pudding). Miscellaneous realisations include // in acrolectal speech in the unique word pus, and the spelling-derived /ç/ in bosom. BATH

The BATH vowel is systematically realised as /a/, like the TRAP vowel. CLOTH

The CLOTH vowel is almost systematically rendered as /ç/. A spelling-derived /a/ occurs after w and qu in words like warrant, warren, quarry. NURSE

In CamE, there is a radical split of the NURSE lexical set, a split mostly conditioned by the spelling. /ç/ occurs for orthographic or, our, ur as in work, journey, purpose; in acrolectal speech, /ç/ alternates with // in words like work, burn, turn, church; interestingly, the word nurse itself seems to be realised more often as // than as /ç/; it is therefore not a good representative of the set, in terms of CamE. The second syllable of incur rhymes with cure and is pronounced like CURE vowel ([inkjç]), a pronunciation that changes the spelling of the word to *incure. // is the common realisation of the NURSE vowel for words with orthographic er, ear, ir, yr like term, learn, thirty, myrrh. /a/ occurs in mesolectal and basilectal speech in Sir. /a/ is even more common in her. Finally, the occurrence of /a/ in maternity, (verb) transfer, and often in servant [mataniti, transfa, savant] is presumably due to the influence of /a/ in the neighbouring syllable, and can be considered as a case of vowel assimilation or harmony. Given the major splits observed above with clear orthographic conditioning, it seems more convenient in CamE to establish another set, which I will call the TERM set. Leaving the NURSE set for words with , the TERM set will comprise words with as in were, and words with . FLEECE

The FLEECE vowel is realised as /i/, tense like Wells’ FLEECE, but definitely much shorter. A spelling-derived //, which may be converted by the E-Tensing rule to [e] (see the discussion under the DRESS vowel), occurs in a large number of words including cohesion, comedian, Egypt, intervene, legal, mete (mete out a sanction), amnesia, Armenia, encyclopaedia, collegial, Cornelius, media, Nicodemus, penal, recent, Slovenia, species, strategic, trapezium, vehicle. Note that the occurrence of /e/ in words like cohesion, comedian, Slovenia, trapezium and many others is due to the non-application of the rule of CiV Tensing (see Simo Bobda 1994: 179-182) which applies in many mother-tongue accents, including RP. Analogical realisations include the pronunciation of quay as [kwe] where /e/

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is due to the analogy with other words in ay, and the pronunciations of elite and trio as el[ai]te and tr[ai]o where /ai/ is due to the analogy with other words in iCe, and tri-, respectively. FACE

The FACE vowel is generally monophthongised to /e/, and is occasionally rendered as a more open // in words like labour, later on. The spelling-derived /a/ occurs in a large number of cases, including adjacent, Barbados, blatant, Donatus, fatal, Graham, nasal, naval, papal, radar, Romanus, sadism and its derivatives, Satan, savour. The non-application of the RP CiV Tensing rule in some words further yields /a/ in words like Arabian, Athanasius, aviation, gymnasium, Ignatius, inter alia, radiation, spatial, salient. /ai/ occurs as a spelling pronunciation in Haiti and Jamaica. When the FACE vowel is followed by a vocalic segment, the underlying /i/ is converted to [j], in keeping with a Gliding Rule which, in CamE, changes the intervocalic high vowels /i, u/ into the corresponding glides [j, w] (Simo Bobda 1994: 201-206). The phenomenon produces data like [leja, pleja, pçtreja] layer, player, portrayer. PALM

The PALM vowel is systematically realised as /a/, merging with TRAP and START. THOUGHT

The THOUGHT vowel is rendered as /ç/, merging with LOT, CLOTH and FORCE. A spelling-derived /a/ occurs in bald, Balkan, malt, Malta and /au/, another spelling pronunciation, is very common in some words with orthographic au like laud and its derivatives, gaunt and haunt. GOAT

The GOAT vowel is rendered as /o/ (primary cardinal vowel No 7) typically in word-final position (e.g. go, no, so, know), before final consonants (e.g. coat, comb, don’t, mould, control, joke, note). It generally becomes a more open /ç/ in the environment ____CV, as in f[ç]cus, m[ç]ment, n[ç]tice. A notable dialectal variation, /u/, for both of the above environments, is worth noting here: it is characteristic of Banso speakers in the North West Province; it is very well known and much talked about. When the GOAT vowel is followed by a vowel, the underlying /u/ may be converted to the corresponding glide [w] by the Glide Formation rule (see under FACE), yielding pronunciations like [lowa, mowa, towa] lower, mower, tower (from the verb tow), which alternate with [loa, moa, toa]. Foulkes and Docherty’s (1999) GOAL set behaves like the GOAT vowel discussed here.

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GOOSE The GOOSE vowel is generally rendered as /u/, like FOOT. Spelling-derived realiza-

tions include the /ç/ of tomb and less often movement and manoeuvre, and the /ui/ of juice, juicy, nuisance. Note the unique occurrence of /ç/ in pseudo-: [sçdç-]. PRICE

The common realisation of the PRICE vowel is /ai/. A spelling-induced /i/ occurs in a number of words including Elias [eli»as], indict [indikt], hybrid, Mathias [ma»tias], primordial, siren, (less often) prior. When the PRICE vowel is followed by a vowel, /i/ is converted to /j/ by the Glide Formation rule, which yields [trajal] trial, [baja] buyer, [admaja] admire, [pajçs] Pius, [lajçn] lion, [ba»jas] biased. CHOICE

The CHOICE vowel is generally rendered as /çi/. When it is followed by another vowel, the Glide Formation rule converts /i/ to /j/, yielding pronunciations like [lçjal] loyal, [ançjans] annoyance, [dZçjçs] joyous. MOUTH The MOUTH vowel is generally rendered as /au/, and less often /aç/. /o/ occurs in some MOUTH words like shower, towel, vowel [
oa, tol, vol], having merged with the GOAT set. Devour merges with the FORCE set and is pronounced [di'vç] by a large number of educated speakers. When the MOUTH vowel is followed by

another vowel, /u/ is converted to [w] by the Glide Formation rule, yielding pronunciations like [alawans] allowance, [kawat] coward, [pawa] power. NEAR

The realisation of the NEAR vowel alternates between /i/ and /i /; [fi, fi ] fear, [i, i ] gear, [spi, spi ] spear; /i / seems to be more characteristic of acrolectal speakers. A spelling-derived // is common in interfere, atmosphere, sphere, mere which thus merge with the SQUARE set. Clear [kli] also merges with SQUARE. /i/ is very common in the sequence erV as in Algeria, hero, Liberia, Nigeria, period, series, serious, serum, zero. A spelling-derived /e/, which may be seen as the tensing of an underlying // through the E-Tensing rule, occurs in other erV words like cafet[e]ria, crit[e]ria, [e]ra, imp[e]rial, minist[e]rial, Presbyt[e]rian. Another spelling-derived realization, /ea/, occurs in words like [erea] area, [kçrea] Korea. When the second member of the NEAR diphthong is the agentive or comparative -er, the diphthong is rendered in CamE as /ia/. We thus have [ka
ia, karia] cashier, carrier, and [elia, pritia, silia] earlier, prettier, sillier. And when the second member in Wells’ set results from Vowel Reduction, it is restructured in CamE to a vowel suggested by the strong form or the spelling; e.g. gymnas[iu]m, nutr[i]nt, per[iO]d, illustr[iO]s, mater[ia]l.

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The above realizations of the NEAR vowel in CamE warrant the re-arrangement of Wells’ set into several sets. The label NEAR will be maintained for words in orthographic ear and eer, pronounced /i, i / in CamE. The label SPHERE will be used for words with orthographic ere, pronounced /, i, i /. zEro will be adopted for words in erV, pronounced /i, e/. carrIER will be chosen for agentives and comparatives in ier, pronounced /ia/. And cordIAl will be chosen for words where the second member of Wells’ NEAR diphthong results from vowel reduction, and the sequence may be pronounced /ia, i, iç, iu/ depending on the spelling. SQUARE

The most common realisation of the SQUARE vowel is //; [d, f, k] dare/there, fair/fare, care. // often tenses to [e] by the E-Tensing rule, yielding pronunciations like [e]ria, mal[e]ria, p[e]rent, parliament[e]rian, S[e]rah, secret[e]riat; interestingly, this pattern of restructuring has caused in CamE some fossilized spellings like *maleria (malaria) and, more systematically, *Serah (Sarah). A spellingderived /a/ occurs in words like Aaron, fanfare, Hilarious, Hungarian, nefarious, precarious, vary and its derivatives. The following words of Wells’ SQUARE set merge with NEAR to be pronounced with /i, i /: chair, share and borrowings in -aire like millionaire, questionnaire. Their (but not there which maintains the regular pronunciation) has as many as four diphthongal realizations: [i, ia, e, ea]. Finally, note the pronunciation of mayor and prayer (request made to God) as [mejç] and [preja], respectively, which results from the merging of these words with FACE, and the gliding of the underlying /i/ to [j]. START

The START vowel is almost systematically realised as /a/, thus merging with the TRAP vowel. The few words in er where RP has the START vowel merge with the NURSE vowel: we thus have D[]rby / d[]rby, H[]rtford, s[]rgeant. NORTH

The common realisation of the NORTH vowel is /ç/, like LOT and THOUGHT. A spelling-derived /a/ occurs after w and qu, as in swarm, warp, quarter, quartz. FORCE The FORCE vowel is almost systematically rendered as /ç/, like LOT, THOUGHT and NORTH. A spelling-derived /ça/ occurs in the unique word roar, pronounced [rça]. Finally, note that pour merges with CURE and becomes homophonous with

poor. CURE

When orthographically represented by ure and our, the CURE vowel is realised as /(j)ç/, as in [kjç, pjç, lç,
ç, ma»t
ç, tç, çd/çt] cure, pure, lure, sure, mature, tour, gourd. There is an interesting split with words having the orthographic se-

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quence urV: /ç/ occurs when V is preceded by a free base as in [a
çrans] assurance (assure + ance), surety, security, maturity; and a spelling-derived /u/ occurs when V is followed by a bound base, as in curious [kjuriçs], jury [duri], mural, plural, rural. When the second member of the CURE diphthong is the agentive or comparative er, the diphthong is rendered in CamE as /ua/; e.g. [njua, trua, skrua, sua] newer, truer, screwer, suer. Finally, when the second member results from Vowel Reduction, the pronunciation of this second member in CamE corresponds to the underlying strong form, or to the vowel suggested by the spelling; e.g. [anual, flunt, kçntinuçs] annual, fluent, continuous. Note the following miscellaneous realisations: your [jua, ja]; yours [juçs], poor [puç], Europe [%&uçrçp]. As with NEAR above, the splits observed above warrant the re-arrangement of the CURE set altogether into several sets. CURE will be maintained for words in ure, our, and urV when V is preceded by a free base, pronounced /ç/. cUrious will be the convention for words in urV where V is preceded by a bound base, pronounced /u/. TRUER will be the label for agentives and comparatives in uer, pronounced /ua/. And TRUANT will be adopted for cases where the second member of RP / / results from vowel reduction; TRUANT words in CamE are pronounced /ua, u, uç/ depending on the spelling. HappY The happY vowel is rendered as /i/. Note that words in -day (holiday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday), which fluctuate between /e/ and // in British English, systematically have /e/ in CamE, merging with FACE. LettER The lettER vowel is very often conditioned orthographically in CamE. When it is represented by er/re, it is systematically represented by /a/; e.g. memb[a], teach[a], cent[a]. When it is represented by ure and o(u)r, it is rendered as /ç/; e.g. [fiç, meç, tkst
ç, stupç, kandç, lebç] figure, measure, texture, stupor, candour, labour. Miscellaneous pronunciations include martyr and satyr which, under the influence of tire (CamE [taja], are pronounced [mataja] and [sataja]). CommA The spelling-induced /a/ is the most common realisation of the commA vowel in CamE. When the vowel is represented by o, it is realised as /ç/; e.g. abb[ç]t, big[ç]t, Lenn[ç]n. CamE has a predilection for /i/ before final /n/ irrespective of the grapheme, as in Samps[i]n, Wils[i]n. /i/ is even more systematic in words which have an /i/ in the preceding syllable, as in hidd[i]n, Hilt[i]n, kitch[i]n, pris[i]n. This can be considered as a case of vowel assimilation or harmony. This phenomenon yields other vowels in other contexts, like [ç] in Rob[ç]rt and Thom[ç]s. Seen through Wells’ lexical sets, and accommodating both Foulkes and Docherty’s (1999) addition as well as the modifications suggested by the split

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observed in CamE phonology, the vowels of CamE can be summarized as in Table 1. Table 1.

The vowels of CamE, seen through the standard lexical sets

Key word

Pronunciation

Key word

Pronunciation

CHOICE

çi > çj

KIT

i > ai

MOUTH

au > aw > aç

paintEd



NEAR

i ~ i

villAge

e

SPHERE

 > i ~ i

DRESS

 > e > i > i ~ i

Zero

e>i>

TRAP

a>e

CarrIER

ia

LOT

ç>a

CordIAL

ia ~ i ~ iç ~ iu

STRUT

ç>u~a

SQUARE

 > e > i ~ i

FOOT

u

START

a>

BATH

a

NORTH

ç>a

CLOTH

ç

FORCE

ç

NURSE

ç>>e

CURE

ç > ua

TERM

>e>a

cUrious

u

FLEECE

i>>e

TruER

ua

FACE

e > a > ej

TRUANT

ua ~ u ~ uç

PALM

a

officEs

i

THOUGHT

ç > au

happY

i>e

GOAT

o>ç>u

LettER

a~~ç

GOAL

o>ç>u

CommA

a~~ç>u

GOOSE

u

PRICE

a > i > aj

From the above picture, a seven-vowel system ([i, e, , a, ç, o, u]), plus a marginal schwa, appears. The marginal nature of the schwa is due to its extremely low frequency. It normally occurs only as the second member of the NEAR diphthong in acrolectal speech, and in epenthetic environments like [eb l, ri m, kapitaliz m] able, rhythm, capitalism. The low frequency of the schwa is mostly due to the fact that CamE generally does not apply the Vowel Reduction rule. Of particular interest in the discussion of the patterns of realisation of the standard lexical sets has been the phenomenon of splits (e.g. of the NURSE and CURE vowels) and mergers (e.g. of the LOT, THOUGHT, NORTH, FORCE and STRUT vowels). The splits are responsible for the splitting of some pairs which are homophonous in RP, like dollar/dolour [dçla, dçlç], fisher/fissure [fi
a, fi
ç], word/

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whirred [wçd/wçt, wd/wt], swab/swob [swab/swap, swçb/swçp], kernel/colonel [knl, kçlçnl]. The mergers create new homophones in CamE, like match, march [mat
], talk, thug [tçk], circular/secular [sekula], fodder, further [fçda], hod, hud, hoard [hçd/hçt]. A more comprehensive list of such splits and mergers can be found in Simo Bobda (1994: 157–161). The discussion has also highlighted, beyond mere cases of segment restructuring, some vocalic processes like E-Tensing, Glide Formation, i-Assimilation, as well as the behaviour of CamE with regard to some RP rules like Vowel Reduction, CiV Tensing and Trisyllabic Laxing. 2.2.

The consonants

In terms of the mere inventory of the consonant system, CamE exhibits very few differences from RP, for example. The marked peculiarity resides in the TH sounds, which are generally pronounced /t/ and /d/, // and // in fact not being uncommon in educated speech. But consonant substitution is only the tip of the iceberg. Although RP and CamE have basically the same consonant system, there are tremendous differences in the environments in which these consonants occur in the two accents. The consonantal peculiarities of CamE are best examined in terms of phonological processes. Using RP as a point of reference, the analysis below will highlight some rules which do not apply in CamE, those which apply differently or partially, and those which can be considered specific, that is, do not apply in RP. There is a large common core of features which CamE shares with RP and other accents, and that is what ensures and guarantees resemblance and intelligibility, to a large extent. But some RP rules do not apply in CamE. These rules include several linking processes. CamE keeps orthographic words separate in connected speech, leaving clear junctures between them. This picture radically contrasts with what obtains in all native accents of English, where speech appears in chunks of units linked with each other. The radical separation of words, predictably, does not create a propitious environment for assimilation and other linking processes to apply. Examples of features illustrating the non-application of assimilation can be found in Simo Bobda (1994: 254–255). But the conspicuous absence of linking /r/ can be considered more important, as seen in the following data from Simo Bobda (1994: 255): [di »çpçnnts] their opponents, [awa an»sstçs] our ancestors, [fçda amaunt] further amount, [jua »advais] your advice, [fç e piriçt] for a period. The absence of linking /r/ in these data leaves two adjacent vowels across the word boundary, which breaks the requirement of euphony in RP. The RP rules which apply differently or partially include the voicing or devoicing of the alveolar fricative in word-medial position, Ks-Voicing, Yod Deletion, Non-coronal Deletion, and Spirantisation in -stion words. Concerning the voicing and devoicing of the alveolar fricative the first peculiarity of CamE is found in

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intervocalic position, where CamE has /s/ for RP /z/ as in words like acqui[s]ition, compo[s]ition, phy[s]ical, po[s]ition, vi[s]ible and /z/ for RP /s/ in words like di[z]agree, di[z]appear, ba[z]ic, ba[z]in, compari[z]on, garri[z]on, pro[z]ody, uni[z]on. There is even the interesting case of De[z]ember and de[z]eased where CamE has /z/ for orthographic c, an unknown phenomenon in RP; CamE equally has /z/ in the environment /r/______V as in nur[z]ery and /l/_____V as in compul[z]ory, another oddity in terms of RP. Even more frequently, /z/ occurs in the environment con#____V, as in con[z]ume, and con[z]erve and its derivatives. In RP, Ks-voicing applies mostly before stressed vowels, as in exam, executive, exhaust, exonerate. But in CamE it tends to apply before all vowels, as in e[gz]ecute, fle[gz]ible, ma[gz]imum, e[gz]odus. In RP yod is absent mostly after palatals (e.g. sugar, chew, jew), /r/ (e.g. rumour, rural, drew) and /Cl/ (e.g. clue, flu, glue); but CamE speakers also delete it in many other words (e.g. dubious, duplicate, education, numerous, Portugal, situation, student) and more systematically before /ul/ (e.g. ambulance, modulate, population), and before /uV/ (e.g. annual, conspicuous, genuine). The two non-coronals involved in Non-coronal Deletion are /b/ and /g/. RP speakers delete /b/ after nasals as in bomb, comb, lamb, hand and between /m/ and a following neutral suffix as in bombing, singer, hanger, but CamE does not apply this rule, since it has bom[b]ing, sin[g]er, han[g]er. The occurrence of [t
] (rather than [
] as for other words in -ion) is due to the non-application of spirantisation blocked before /s/ (which converts the underlying /t/ to [s] which in turn interacts with gliding and palatalisation (Rubach 1984) in -tion words. But in CamE, spirantisation applies also after /s/, yielding combus[]ion, ques[]ion, exhaus[]ion, sugges[]ion (instead of RP [t
].) Phonological processes specific to CamE include several cases of consonant cluster simplification, Pre-ion Devoicing, Final Devoicing and Pre-Yod Deletion. Although cluster simplification occurs in onset position, the most frequent cases of simplification are found in coda position. Cluster simplification in coda position, according to Simo Bobda (1994: 249–253), is subject to a number of variables including the following: (i) with the exception of data like [fit] fifth, [hp] help, [fim] film, it is generally the final member of the cluster that is deleted and not an earlier segment; (ii) plosives, like /t, d, p, k/, are particularly prone to deletion, as in past, missed, cold, end, grasp, jump, task, dust; (iii) deletion is more prevalent in the environment of a following consonant than in that of a following vowel, as in past#C vs past#V, and passed#C vs passed#V; (iv) a final stop which agrees in voicing with the preceding segment is more prone to deletion than one which does not; e.g. cold vs colt, hand vs grant, send vs sent, veld vs belt;

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(v) a final stop which agrees in place of articulation with the preceding segment lends itself to deletion more readily than one which does not; e.g. planned vs programmed, stump vs grasp, sunk vs sulk; (vi) a final stop not preceded by a morpheme boundary is more resistant to deletion than one which is; e.g. find vs fined, mind vs mined, left vs laughed, lost vs tossed, act vs cracked. Pre-ion Devoicing devoices the underlying /d/ and /z/, respectively, in words like conclude+ion and revise+ion to /t/ and /s/; /t/ and /s/ then interact with the other rules (spirantisation for /t/, which yields /s/ and palatalisation for both cases) to yield [
] instead of RP [] (see Simo Bobda 1994: 226–228, and Simo Bobda and Chumbow 1999 for details). Final Devoicing devoices final obstruents and obstruents before consonantal inflectional suffixes, as in [lap, bat, dçt
, stif] lab, bad, George, Steve; [staps, lifs, rçpt, lçft] stabs, leaves, robbed, loved. Pre-yod Deletion deleted /h/ before /j/ as in [juman, jumit, jut
] human, humid, huge. 2.3.

Word stress

Word stress is clearly the aspect of suprasegmental phonology of CamE which has received the greatest scholarly attention, and about which we know most. Research shows that CamE has truly revolutionised the stress pattern of English. Indeed, thousands of words are stressed differently from the patterns in native Englishes, and the frequency of occurrence of new (local) forms very often reach 100% (see, for example Simo Bobda 1994). In fact, studies have shown that even teachers and university professors of English, in the most careful speaking style, find it almost impossible to change to im »possible, pro »fessor, a »cute, suc »cess, dis »tribute, lieu »tenant, pre »paratory, se »mester (from their usual »impossible, »professor, »acute, »success, distri »bute, »lieutenant, prepa »ratory, »semester). Taking the RP pattern as the point of reference, the following data show some stress peculiarities in CamE, illustrating the movement of stress to a later syllable, and to an earlier syllable. (a)

Movement of stress to a later syllable: From the first to the second syllable in dissyllabic words: chal »lenge, col »league, hi »jack, mat »tress, pe »trol, spe »cies, ty »pist. From the penultimate syllable to the ultimate syllable in trisyllabic words: attri »bute, contri »bute, embar »rass, inter »pret, prohi »bit, tar »paulin. From the initial syllable to the penultimate syllable in trisyllabic words:

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A »gatha, a »morous, A »rabic, ca »lendar, co »vetous, Do »rothy, Jo »nathan, main »tenance, ma »rital, moun »tainous, pas »toral, spi »ritual, ten »tative. From the antepenult to the penultimate syllable in words of four syllables: infor »mative, mono »gamous, peri »pheral, pheno »menal, poly »gamist, steno »grapher. From the antepenult to the penultimate syllable in words of five syllables: argumen »tative, represen »tative. From the first to the ultimate syllable in words of three syllables: Cathe »rine, cele »brate, classi »fy, Emi »ly, gentle »man, mara »thon, recog »nise. From the antepenult to the ultimate syllable in words of four syllables: articu »late, compute »rise, diversi »fy, insinu »ate, negoti »ate. From the initial syllable to the antepenult in words of four syllables: a »limony, jour »nalism, ma »gistracy, ne »gligible, pe »dagogy, sta »tutory, tri »balism. From the pre-antepenultimate syllable to the antepenultimate syllable in words of five syllables: admo »nitory, empi »ricism, expla »natory, fana »ticism, prepa »ratory. From the first to the penultimate syllable in words of four syllables: cumu »lative, gene »rative, quanti »tative, specu »lative. From the pre-antepenultimate to the penultimate syllable in words of five syllables: adminis »trative, authori »tative, coope »rative. From the initial to the antepenultimate syllable in words of five syllables: capi »talism, natio »nalism, regio »nalism. Other patterns can be found in Simo Bobda (1994: 266–269). (b)

Movement of stress to an earlier syllable: From the ultimate syllable to the initial syllable in words of two syllables: »acute, »despite, »extent, »July, »record (verb), »success, »suspense, »towards, »unlike. From the ultimate syllable to the penultimate syllable in words of three syllables: Ca »ribbean, Eu »ropean, Tan »zania.

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From the penultimate syllable to the initial syllable in words of three syllables: »agenda, »agreement, »associate (adj/noun), »attorney, »deposit (noun), »diploma, »insurance, »opponent, »phonetics, »umbrella. From the penultimate syllable to the antepenultimate syllable in words of four syllables: a »dolesence, a »postolic, con »valescence, con »valescent, scientific [sa »jantifik]. From the last syllable to the initial syllable in words of three syllables: »expertise, »cigarette, »referee. From the antepenultimate syllable to the pre-antepenultimate (initial) syllable in words of four syllables: »appropriate (adj), »impossible, »incredible, »irrelevant, »irregular. For more patterns, see Simo Bobda (1994: 269ff). Stress placement in CamE is not random: it is predictable from a number of parameters which include the phonetic factor, the morphological factor, the word class, whether a noun is a common noun or a forename; several factors can also combine to generate a stress pattern. One illustration of the phonetic factor is that words ending with rhyme /i (C)/ tend to be stressed on the final syllable as in aun »tie, cur »ry, Ira »qui, Israe »li, Pakista »ni, pet »ty, se »mi - (semi-final), Soma »li, sure »ty; Bap »tist, bis »cuit, spe »cies, ten »nis, ty »pist. Words ending with a final /n/ also tend to be stressed finally, as in cara »van, harmat »tan, plan »tain, cello »phane, hurri »cane, Ama »zon, car »ton, cou »pon, mara »thon, mo »ron, cy »clone, hor »mone, o »zone, bari »tone; and there is an even greater predilection for final stress in words ending in /in/, e.g. aspi »rin, bulle »tin, gan »grene, hy »giene, jave »lin, para »fin, penicil »lin, tarpau »lin. A further illustration of the phonetic factor in stress placement is that consonant clusters tend to attract stress to a later syllable, as in ancestor, calendar, comment (verb), cy »linder, or »chestra, Pro »testant. The morphological factor refers to the fact that a large number of affixes have predictable and stable stress patterns. For example, the negative prefix is almost systematically self-stressed; e.g. »illegal, »impossible, »immature, »irrelevant. The following suffixes are self-stressed -ative, (e.g. cumu »lative, ten »tative), atory (expla »natory, prepa »ratory), -ature (candi »dature, legis »lature), -cide (homi »cide, pesti »cide), -itive (compe »titive, repe »titive), -land (Nether »lands, New-Zea »land, Switzer »land), -man (fire »man, gentle »man), -oir(e) (me »moire, reser »voir), -phone (Anglo »phone, tele »phone). The following suffixes attract stress to the preceding syllable (they are referred to in Simo Bobda (1994, 1997) as pre-stressed One (PS1) suffixes): -age (pa »rentage, vaga »bondage), -

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an (cosmopo »litan, dio »cesan), -ary (le »gendary, pla »netary), -al (elec »trical, pas »toral), -ism (bilingu »alism, tri »balism), -ist (dra »matist, poly »gamist), -ous (moun »tainous, volu »minous). A more comprehensive analysis of the stress property of affixes can be found in Simo Bobda (1994). The word class factor can be illustrated by the fact that in nouns, rather than in verbs for example, stress tends to be established earlier in the word, as in »advice (contrast ad »vise), »applause (contrast ap »plaud), »exchange (n) (contrast ex »change (verb)), »constraint (noun) (contrast cons »traint (verb)); further examples of backward nominal stress are »abyss, »canoe ([»kenu]), »acumen, »arena, » assassin, »diploma »lumbago, »umbrella. English forenames have a greater predilection for forward stress than common nouns. The multitude of forenames with forward stress in CamE include A »gatha, Chris »topher, Jes »sica, Jo »nathan, Pa »mela, Fer »dinand. Further evidence for the predilection of forenames to have forward stress is provided by the fact that words like comfort and prudence which can be both a common noun and a forename have backward stress (as in RP) in their common noun form ( »comfort, »prudence) and forward stress in their forename form (Com »fort, Pru »dence). Illustrations of the combination of factors for stress placement include the fact that verbs ending in obstruents are almost systematically stressed on the final syllable, as in chal »lenge, eli »cit, embar »rass, exhi »bit, hi »jack, inter »pret, kid »nap, ran »sack (combination of the phonetic and word class factors). Another illustration is the fact that the final rhyme /i (C)/ and the fact that the following items are forenames both combine to yield final stress: Be »cky, Jes »sie, Lu »cy, Nel »ly, Sam »my; A »lice, Do »ris, Sal »ly. Final stress is even more systematic when /C/ is a nasal, as in Cathe »rine, Jacque »line, Jose »phine. 2.4.

The autonomy of CamE phonology and the concept of Trilateral Process

The CamE accent, though still intelligible to mother tongue accents to a large extent, is markedly different from several points of views. In fact it has reached a very high degree of autonomy. This autonomy, as amply demonstrated and exemplified notably in Simo Bobda (1994), is seen in the restructuring of the sound system of mother tongue English. This restructuring results in the numerous and major splits and mergers of Wells’ (1982) lexical sets. Autonomy is also seen in the way CamE applies existing phonological rules and, above all, in the application of its own sui generis rules. The concept of “Trilateral Process”, proposed by Simo Bobda (1994) and discussed further by Simo Bobda and Chumbow (1999), best illustrates the autonomy of Cameroon English. According to this concept, the underlying representations of mother tongue segments A are restructured to new CamE underlying representations B; while the underlying representations A undergo mother tongue English

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phonological rules to yield the surface representation A», the CamE underlying representations B may undergo their own independent phonological rules or surface unchanged as B». For example, RP s[]cceed is restructured to CamE underlying representation s[O]cceed. While RP s[]cceed undergoes Vowel Reduction to become s[]cceed, the CamE underlying representation surfaces unchanged as s[O]cceed. A second example is RP underlying representation veg[]tate, restructured to CamE underlying representation veg[]tate; while RP veg[]tate undergoes Vowel Reduction to surface as veg[]tate, the CamE underlying representation veg[]tate does not undergo Vowel Reduction; in contrast, it undergoes E-Tensing and surfaces as veg[e]tate. One example with consonants is the occurrence of [
] (for RP []) in words like conclu[
]ion, divi[
]ion, inva[
]ion, revi[
]ion, as seen above. Seen through the Trilateral Process, [
] can be traced from an underlying /d/ or /z/ changing to /s/ through autonomous CamE rules, before becoming [
] through the application of existing rules of English phonology. Tracing thus the peculiarities of CamE phonology to their underlying representations seems more rewarding than previous analyses based solely on surface forms; indeed, in the above examples, surface analysis would have limited itself to showing that RP / /, // and // are replaced in s[ ]cceed, veg[]tate and conclu[]ion by [ç], [e] and [
], respectively.

3. Conclusion The particular phonology of CamE is an exciting topic. At the same time I have tried to give an overview of the constructs (like trilateral process) which I believe are useful for the comparative phonologies of sub-Saharan varieties of English. I have undertaken some comparisons in my own research, but there is ample scope for further work in the area.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Rubach, J. 1984 Segmental rules of English and Cyclic phonology. Language 60: 21–54. Simo Bobda, Augustin 1994 Aspects of Cameroon English Phonology. Bern: Peter Lang. 1997 Further demystifying word stress. English Today 52: October 1997: 48–55.

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Explicating the features of African English Pronunciation: Some steps further. Zeitschrift für Anglistik und Afrikanistik (ZAA) 2: 123–136. Simo Bobda, A. and B. S. Chumbow 1999 The trilateral process in Cameroon English phonology: underlying representations and phonological processes in non-native English. English World-Wide 20: 35–65. Todd, Loreto 1982 The English language in West Africa. In: Bailey and Görlach (eds.), 281–305.

Cameroon Pidgin English (Kamtok): phonology Thaddeus Menang

1.

Introduction

“Kamtok” is one of the labels used to refer to a pidginized variety of English used in parts of Cameroon. It is also referred to as “Cameroon Pidgin English” or simply as “Pidgin English”. Earlier studies (Dwyer, 1966; Schneider, 1966) have used the label “West African Pidgin English” to include other pidginized varieties of English spoken along the west coast of Africa, particularly in Nigeria, Sierra Leone and Liberia. “Kamtok” is mutually intelligible with these other varieties to a large extent but has developed its own characteristic features over the years. The history of Kamtok is closely linked to that of contacts between Europe and the coasts of West and Central Africa. Contact between Europe and West and Central Africa was first made in the fifteenth century when the Portuguese, under Henry the Navigator, decided to explore this part of the African continent. Contact with the coast of Cameroon was made shortly after 1472 when a Portuguese expedition, led by a certain Fernando Gomes, reached Fernando Pô, an island off the coast of Cameroon which is part of Equatorial Guinea today. It is reported (Schneider 1966) that this contact with the coastal regions of West and Central Africa first gave rise to various Portuguese-based pidgins and creoles that spread from Sâo Tomê, off the coast of Central Africa, to the Cape Verde islands in the west. Bouchaud (1952) confirms the use, along the coast of Cameroon in the sixteenth century, of a Portuguese-based language for commercial transactions between Portuguese traders and natives of the area. The exact manner in which an English-based Pidgin first came about in this region remains uncertain. What is known is that Portuguese influence in the region started dwindling by the end of the sixteenth century. The Dutch began to replace the Portuguese at the beginning of the seventeenth century. Dutch influence was relatively short-lived, however, and made no real impact on the linguistic situation left behind by the Portuguese. The Dutch were soon replaced by the British, whose influence in the region began to be felt as early as 1618 when a trade monopoly was granted to a British firm ‘the Governor and Company of Adventures of London Trading to Gynney and Binney’. Later, in 1672, the Royal African Company succeeded to the monopoly and traded till 1712 (Mbassi-Manga 1973). British influence is thus seen to have spread to many locations along the coast of West and Central Africa in the eighteenth century. Closer contact between the British and inhabitants of the area was enhanced by the introduction of the “factory” and

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“trust” systems of trade and by the active part taken by the British in the slave trade (Dike 1956). The spread of British influence and the establishment of closer contact between the British and the inhabitants of these coastal regions led to the formation of an English-based pidgin, which eventually replaced the Pidgin Portuguese that had been used in the area for over two centuries. The exact manner in which the shift from Pidgin Portuguese to Pidgin English took place is a matter of debate. Relexification has been suggested, but it is more likely that Pidgin Portuguese existed side by side with a more recently formed Pidgin English until the latter gradually replaced the former. In support of the second hypothesis, Schneider (1966), citing early Dutch accounts and other scattered pieces of historical information, places the beginning of the development of an English–based pidgin in the seventeenth century. One thing seems fairly certain: by the end of the eighteenth century, Pidgin English was firmly established throughout the West African coast. Schneider (1966) cites sources which confirm that an Efik slave-trading chief of the coastal region of what is today Nigeria kept a diary in Pidgin English which was described as “a jargon which was mainly English in vocabulary although the constructions were often modelled on those of Ibibio” (a local language). A series of historical events led to the further development of what has come to be known today in Cameroon as Pidgin English or Kamtok. First, the abolition of the slave trade led to the resettlement, early in the nineteenth century, of freed slaves in three communities along the coast of West Africa: in Liberia, Sierra Leone and Fernando Pô. Within each of these communities, Pidgin English was the principal medium of communication, as this was the only language the slaves had in common. Meanwhile, contacts between British explorers and merchants and inhabitants of the coastal region of Cameroon continued to intensify. Bouchaud (1952) mentions regular visits to the area in 1800 by vessels of the Congo District Association, a British explorers’ association. He also mentions an earlier individual initiative by a British merchant, Henry King, whose boats also visited Cameroon regularly. His sons, Richard and William King, were later to found a firm that continues to prosper today and bears the name R. and W. King. Missionaries soon followed the explorers and merchants and helped to spread the new language further. Missionaries from the Baptist Missionary Society of London and the Jericho Baptist Mission in Jamaica arrived and settled in Clarence, Fernando Pô in 1841 (Keller, Schnellback and Brütsch 1961). After making contacts with the Cameroon mainland, they succeeded in founding Christian communities at Bimbia in 1844 and Douala in 1854. In 1845, meanwhile, Alfred Saker arrived in Fernando Pô and when, in 1858, the Spanish authorities there declared the Protestant religion illegal on the island, Saker and his group moved to the Cameroon mainland and founded a mission station in Victoria. Freed slaves were among the first lay members of these early Christian communities. They spoke Pidgin English. From Victoria, to-

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day renamed “Limbe”, and Douala, the new language was going to spread gradually to parts of the Cameroon hinterland, aided by commerce, missionary activity and colonial rule. Taking advantage of British procrastination, the Germans annexed Cameroon in 1884. But German rule over Cameroon was quite short-lived. It ended by the end of World War I when under the terms of the Treaty of Versailles signed in 1919, Cameroon was placed by the League of Nations under the trusteeship of France and Britain. Under German rule, Pidgin English continued to thrive in spite of German hostility. The creation of plantations along the coastal area by the Germans drew workers from various parts of the territory where different languages were spoken. Brought together in these plantations, the workers who did not share an indigenous language quickly learned Pidgin English, which they used while on the plantations and eventually took back to their areas of origin in the hinterland. Thus the language continued to develop and spread. After World War II, Cameroon was maintained as a trust territory under the French and the British. Each colonial power set up a system of administration and opened schools in which the colonial language was the medium of communication and instruction. But Pidgin English was already so firmly implanted that it continued to be used even in parts of the territory that had come under French colonial rule. In the part of the country under British trusteeship, Pidgin English developed rapidly alongside English with which it shared close ties which, over the years, have come to influence its phonology and vocabulary. Where French was the colonial language, Pidgin English spread was slowed down, but the language largely survived, borrowing occasionally from French to complement its vocabulary and cope with new situations. This historical and linguistic divide at the level of the colonial language has today given rise to two broad varieties of Kamtok: one that clearly leans towards English and borrows freely from it and one that is more conservative and borrows rather cautiously from French. These two broad varieties have been otherwise referred to as “Anglophone Pidgin English” and “Francophone Pidgin English” (Mbassi-Manga 1973). Since the two territories re-unified in 1961 to form the Federal Republic of Cameroon, the situation of Kamtok has not changed very much as far as the influence of English or French is concerned. But there are clear indications that the language continues to spread in spite of occasional hostility from people who think that it stands in the way of a rapid mastery of ‘standard’ English by school pupils and other learners. As one of Cameroon’s languages of wider communication, Kamtok today bridges the linguistic gap among an estimated one quarter to one third of the country’s rural and particularly urban populations. The language is used intensively among the inhabitants of the so-called English-speaking provinces of the North West and South West which account for at least one fifth of Cameroon’s total population of about 15 million inhabitants. It is also fairly frequently used in most parts of the French-speaking Littoral and the West Provinces which are

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adjacent to the two English-speaking provinces. Outside these four (out of ten) provinces, Kamtok is found in varying extents in urban centres. A survey conducted in the early 1980s by the Department of English at the University of Yaounde sought to describe the linguistic profile of Cameroon’s urban centres. The survey revealed the spread of Kamtok in the country. According to its findings (published in Koenig, Chia and Povey [1983]), Kamtok has spread throughout the southern half of the country. In the urban centres surveyed in the southern half of Francophone Cameroon, 30% to 60% of the people consulted claimed they knew and used the language. The number of people who claimed to know and use Kamtok in the six urban areas studied in the English-speaking provinces of the country hardly dropped below 80%. From a fairly marginal language that grew out of contacts between European explorers, merchants and missionaries and the coastal inhabitants of Cameroon some three hundred years ago or so, Kamtok has grown to become a fully-fledged language that is put to a wide range of uses. It remains the language of buying and selling in most local markets of the regions where it is used. The sociolinguistic survey of Cameroon’s urban centres revealed for example that in Douala, Cameroon’s economic capital that is located in the French-speaking part of the country, 83% of the people interviewed used Kamtok in buying or selling in the local markets. Kamtok also continues to be used by Christian missionaries in evangelisation and liturgical services. It occurs in numerous translations of biblical texts, catechisms and Christian liturgies which constitute most of the written texts available in the language so far. These texts come in varying orthographies but each one clearly serves the purpose of its author. Kamtok occupies a prominent place in many homes in Cameroon where it shares functions with the mother tongue. The survey of urban centres revealed that in the English-speaking part of the country, up to 97% of school-age children already use Kamtok at the time they enter school. It is also the preferred language among these children when they communicate among themselves. Because it happens to be the shared language that is best mastered by school-age children, nursery school teachers tend to use it as a medium of communication and instruction until such a time that the children have acquired some mastery of English. Kamtok’s role as a medium of interethnic communication has already been emphasized. On the basis of the linguistic survey data, it was found that Cameroon could be divided into four lingua franca zones: a Kamtok zone, a French zone, a Fulfude zone and possibly a Fang-Beti zone. The Kamtok zone was found to be matched only by the French zone in the size of its population. Kamtok is also a language of science and technology. It is widely used by local craftsmen and technicians such as mechanics, masons, carpenters, hairdressers, seamstresses and tailors, all of whom acquire their skills thanks to the language. It is widely used for technology transfer in domains such as health, agriculture,

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animal husbandry and conservation. This explains why many Western volunteers who offer to serve in Cameroon have to spend time learning some rudiments of Kamtok before proceeding to meet the people among whom they intend to work. Further, Kamtok is the language of an urban mass or popular culture in Cameroon. It is widely used in popular music, theatre shows, special radio broadcasts and newspaper columns, for socialisation in general and for in-group identification and differentiation in particular. The latter function is giving rise to interesting varieties of the language which remain largely unexplored. Apart from French and English which are Cameroon’s official languages, Kamtok enters into frequent contact with several of Cameroon’s more than two hundred indigenous languages. Users bring into their Kamtok idiolects various features that derive from both the official and indigenous languages that they use in different circumstances. This has given rise to an impressive number of Kamtok accents that challenge the researcher. These horizontal forms of variation have resulted in slightly differing varieties of Kamtok that are being described after analyses conducted mostly at the phonological and lexical levels. The distinction between “Anglophone” and “ Francophone” Kamtok has been established on this basis. Other regionally more restricted varieties have been identified within these two broad varieties. The nature and extent of variation in Kamtok is also determined by the extent of the speakers’ formal education in English and exposure to situations in which English is used. Such considerations have led to the identification of so-called “educated” and “uneducated” varieties of Kamtok. The “educated” variety is said to be more elaborate in its form and richer in its choice of words many of which are borrowed directly from English in both their form, meaning and pronunciation. The “uneducated” variety is less elaborate in form and contains fewer occasional borrowings from English. Contextual variation arises mostly from the uses to which Kamtok is put. Various uses of Kamtok have been discussed earlier but the nature and frequency of forms of variation arising from function still have to be thoroughly investigated. Some functional varieties of Kamtok have however been suggested: ecclesiastical, commercial, technical, and in-group. One such variety with an in-group function that has caught recent scholarly attention is “Camfranglais”. It is popular among school-age youth and school leavers, and, as the name suggests, comprises an intricately woven combination of expressions from indigenous languages, from French and from English. It is an evolving linguistic phenomenon that deserves to be carefully studied. What makes variation in Kamtok so difficult to track is the fact that it remains largely unstandardized. There have been attempts to describe it by various researchers, who have focused on its grammatical and lexical features. No formal grammar or dictionary has yet come to be accepted by users as a guide that lays out norms that are worth respecting. Kamtok thus remains everybody’s language and

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each person uses it to the best of his/her ability and almost at leisure. This makes the task of description quite onerous. The present descriptive survey focuses on those features that are found in the speech of a cross-section of Kamtok users. As most of these users are found within or near the English-speaking provinces of Cameroon, examples will be drawn from the broad variety that tilts towards what has been termed “Anglophone” Kamtok. Care has been taken however to rid the description of features that are considered random borrowings from English, particularly those that may pose problems of intelligibility to less ‘educated’ users. Nevertheless the survey points to features that augur new trends in the development of the language.

2.

Phonology

The present survey of Kamtok phonological features is far from exhaustive. It focuses particularly on Kamtok sounds, the distribution of these sounds in speech and on certain prosodic features such as stress and tone. Although the language is treated here as an autonomous system, the description nevertheless relates its distinctive sound features to those of English and its other source languages, whenever possible, in an effort to show how Kamtok has come to achieve its autonomy. 2.1.

Kamtok sounds

Initial studies of Kamtok phonology reveal that the language has 6 vowel sounds and 21 consonant phonemes. Kamtok thus makes use of almost as many consonants as English, although Kamtok and English consonants are quite not the same. As for vowels sounds, Kamtok has barely half the number used in English. This apparent economy of vowel sounds at the phonemic level hides a certain complexity that becomes visible when one examines their concrete realizations. Cases of sounds in complementary distribution will require more careful study. Kamtok’s phonemes are presented in tables 1 and 2 and figures 1 and 2. The first column contains the symbol used to represent the sound. The second contains a brief description of the sound, while the third provides an example of a Kamtok word or form in which the sound is found. This word is also presented in contrast with another word with which it constitutes a minimal pair.

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2.1.1. Kamtok vowels Table 1.

Description of the vowel phonemes of Kamtok

Sound symbol

Description

Examples



High unrounded front vowel

Compare /si/ ‘see’ and /so/ ‘so’

e

Mid unrounded front vowel

Compare /tek/ ‘take’ and /tçk/ ‘talk’

a

Central low unrounded vowel

Compare /man/ ‘man’ and /mun/ ‘moon’

u

High rounded back vowel

Compare /put/ ‘put’ and /pçt/ ‘pot’

o

Mid-high rounded back vowel

Compare /lo/ ‘low’ and /lç/ ‘law’

ç

Mid-low rounded back vowel

Compare /lçk/ ‘lock’ and /luk/ ‘look’

Although the vowels presented in the preceding section are generally said to be the only clearly distinctive ones in Kamtok, recent usage includes certain vowel combinations that resemble some English diphthongs in a manner that suggests that they may have a phonemic status. Four such vowel combinations have been identified: /ai/ as in /bai/ ‘buy’, as opposed to /ba/ ‘bar’; /au/ as in /kau/ ‘cow’, as opposed to /ka/ ‘car’; /çi/ as in /nçis/ ‘noise’, as opposed to /nçs/ ‘nurse’; /ia/ as in /bia/ ‘beer’, as opposed to /bi/ ‘bee’. Further research is needed on such vowel combinations. 2.1.2. Kamtok consonants Table 2. Description of the consonant phonemes of Kamtok Sound symbol

Description

Examples

p

Voiceless bilabial stop

Compare /put/ ‘put’ and /fut/ ‘foot’

b

Voiced bilabial stop

Compare /big/ ‘big’ and /dig/ ‘dig’

t

Voiceless alveolar stop

Compare /ti/ ‘tea’ and /bi/ ‘bee’

Cameroon Pidgin English (Kamtok): phonology Table 2. (continued)

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Description of the consonant phonemes of Kamtok

Sound symbol

Description

Examples

d

Voiced alveolar stop

k

Voiceless velar stop

Compare /dig/ ‘dig’ and /big/ ‘big’ Compare /kuk/ ‘cook’ and /buk/ ‘book’

g

Voiced velar stop

m

Bilabial nasal

n

Alveolar nasal



Velar nasal

Compare /ti/ ‘thing’ and /tin/ ‘tin’

n

Palatal nasal

f

Voiceless labiodental fricative

v

Voiced labiodental fricative

s

Voiceless alveolar fricative

z

Voiced alveolar fricative

Compare /nus/ ‘news’ and /t
us/ ‘choose’ Compare /fam/ ‘farm’ and /lam/ ‘lamp’ Compare /vot/ ‘vote’ and /got/ ‘goat’ Compare /si/ ‘see’ and /ti/ ‘tea’ Compare /zip/ ‘zip’ and /kip/ ‘keep’




Voiceless pre-palatal affricate

h

Voiceless glottal fricative

t


Voiceless pre-palatal affricate

Compare /t
uk/ ‘pierce’ and /buk/ ‘book’

d

Voiced pre-palatal affricate

r

Alveolar trill

Compare /dam/ ‘scarcity’ and /fam/ ‘farm’ Compare /riva/ ‘river’ and /liva/ ‘liver’

l

Dental alveolar liquid

j

Palatal glide

w

Bilabial glide

Compare /gçn/ ‘gun’ and /sçn/ ‘sun’ Compare /man/ ‘man’ and /pan/ ‘pan’ Compare /nek/ ‘neck’ and /tek/ ‘take ‘

Compare /
em/ ‘shame’ and /sem/ ‘same’ Compare /hama/ ‘hammer’ and /fama/ ‘farmer’

Compare /lç/ ‘long’ and /rç/ ‘wrong’ Compare /jam/ ‘yam’ and /lam/ ‘lamp’ Compare /wan/ ‘one’ and /man/ ‘man’

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Table 3 provides a classification of these consonants. Table 3.

Classification of Kamtok consonants Bilabial

PLOSIVE

Labio- Alveolar dental

p b

t d

AFFRICATE f v m

LATERAL GLIDE/ w APPROXIMANT

2.2.

k g t
d

FRICATIVE NASAL

Palato- Palatal Velar Glottal alveolar

s z




n

h n



l r

j

Consonant clusters

Consonant clusters do exist in Kamtok. Dwyer and Smith (1966) report that in some forms of Kamtok speech, /s/ can precede /p, k, t, m, n, l/ in words such as: /spun/ ‘spoon’, /skul/ ‘school’, /stik/ ‘stick’, /smçl/ ‘small’, /snek/ ‘snake’ and /slak/ ‘weak’. Consonant clusters are also formed by /p, b, f, k, g, d, s/ preceding /l/ and /r/. Here are some examples: /pleja/ ‘player’ /bred/ ‘bread’ /flai/ ‘fly’ /klin/ ‘clean’ /glad/ ‘glad’ /draiva/ ‘driver’

/preja/ ‘prayer’ /blak/ ‘black’ /frai/ ‘fry’ /krai/ ‘cry’ /gras/ ‘grass’ /slip/ ‘sleep’

Dwyer and Smith (1966) note that, in addition to occurring by themselves in Kamtok, nasals are often homorganic with other consonants. But they do not seem to consider such nasal + consonant combinations as forming clusters because the preceding vowels are nasalised. Some examples, however, appear to involve genuine clusters: /mb/, /g/ in /mbaga/ ‘palm-kernel’ /g/, /nd/ in /gçndere/ ‘young woman’ /nj/, /mb/ in /njumba/ ‘girl or boy friend’ /ns/ in /nsç/ ‘Nso’ (place name) /nc/, /nd/ in /ncinda/ ‘attendant’ /k/, /nd/ in /kanda/ ‘skin’

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Such nasal + consonant combinations are not limited to words taken from Cameroonian languages, as the /nj/ in /jinja/ ‘ginger’ shows. 2.3.

Realization and distribution of some Kamtok vowels.

A number of processes have contributed to the building of an autonomous sound system in Kamtok. Similar processes have been discussed by Simo Bobda in his study of aspects of Cameroon English phonology (see his article in this volume). As far as Kamtok vowel sounds are concerned, these processes entail the following: (a) the restructuring of the vowel system; (b) the non-reduction of vowels in unstressed position; (c) restrictions in the distribution of certain vowel sounds. 2.3.1. Restructuring of the vowel system. In the process of building a new system, Kamtok has drastically reduced the number of vowels it uses. Whereas English makes use of a dozen vowels, Kamtok vowels stand at six. This reduction in the number of vowels has been achieved partly through “mergers”. A merger can occur within a language when, over the years, several sounds gradually become one. A number of similar or closely related English sounds are merged in Kamtok as one sound with which users are more familiar. Such a sound is usually one that is found in both English and most Cameroonian languages or only in the local languages. Some mergers are listed below: English /æ,
, / merge to form Kamtok /a/: English /mæn/ > Kamtok /man/ ‘man’ English /f  / > Kamtok /fada/ ‘priest’ English / ri:/ > Kamtok /agri/ ‘agree’ English /, / merge to form Kamtok /e/: English /hd/ > Kamtok /het/ ‘head’ English /bd/ > Kamtok /bet/ ‘bird’ English /i, / merge to form Kamtok /i/: English /f
/ > Kamtok /fi
/ ‘fish’ English /O, / merge to form Kamtok /O/: English /gçd/ > Kamtok /gçd/ ‘god’ English /kt/ > Kamtok /kçt/ ‘cut’ English /u, / merge to form Kamtok /u/: English /pt/ > Kamtok /put/ ‘put’ English /mun/ > Kamtok /mun/ ‘moon’

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A second aspect of vowel restructuring is a strong tendency to produce simple vowels in the place of certain English diphthongs, with the second element of the diphthong usually being dropped: English /e/ becomes Kamtok /e/: English /mek/ > Kamtok /mek/ ‘make’ English // becomes Kamtok /o/: English /g / > Kamtok /go/ ‘go’ English /s / > Kamtok /so/ ‘so’ English // becomes Kamtok /e/ or //: English / / > Kamtok /de/ ‘there’ English / / > Kamtok /ke/ or / k/ ‘care’ The pronoun ‘I’ /a/ is usually produced in Kamtok as /a/. Other centring diphthongs of English are restructured to produce new sound combinations, which accord with Kamtok phonology: English // becomes Kamtok /ia/, /iO/ or /i/: English /f / > Kamtok /fia/ ‘fear’ English /s r s/ > Kamtok /siriçs/ ‘serious’ English // becomes Kamtok /ua/, /uO/ or /O/: English /j / > Kamtok /jua/ ‘your’ English /p / > Kamtok /puç/ ‘poor’ English /
 / > Kamtok /
ç/ ‘sure’ English triphthongs are restructured through glide formation. This process involves the transformation of the central element of the triphthong: // becomes /j/ and // becomes /w/. This splits the vowel sequence into two syllables as in the following examples: English /a/ becomes Kamtok /aja/: English /fa / > Kamtok /faja/ ‘fire’ English /a/ becomes Kamtok /awa/: English /pa / > Kamtok /pawa/ ‘power’ 2.3.2. Non-reduction of Kamtok vowels Although Kamtok makes use of many words of English origin and continues to borrow heavily from that source, it hardly makes use of stress such as is found in English. All the syllables in Kamtok words tend to be stressed to some degree. This feature has considerably affected the manner in which words of English origin are produced in Kamtok. Thus the vowel sounds which would normally be reduced

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in English whenever they occur in unstressed position do not undergo reduction. The presence of unreduced vowels in every syllable often completely modifies the pronunciation of English words when these are used in Kamtok. Some examples follow: English /aft / > Kamtok /afta/ ‘after’ English /k mplen/ > Kamtok /kçmplen/ ‘complain’ English /fiv / > Kamtok /fiva/ ‘fever’ English /ns/ >Kamtok /inis/ ‘Guinness’ English /çd / > Kamtok /çda/ ‘order’ English /tebl'/ > Kamtok /tebul/ ‘table’ 2.3.3. Vowel sounds with restricted distribution. Some of the mergers and restructuring of vowels and diphthongs reported above are not generally found in the Kamtok of English-Kamtok bilinguals. The resurfacing of these sounds in regular Kamtok speech arises from the very close contact that exists between the two languages in the English-speaking provinces of Cameroon which are home to mainstream Kamtok. The presence of such sounds in Kamtok speech constitute a kind of linguistic interference, though some of the sounds have also been found in the Kamtok of those whose knowledge and use of English are not confirmed. Thus, the close contact that exists between English and Kamtok may be leaving more permanent marks on the latter. On the one hand, diphthong-like combinations of vowels such as /ai/, /çi/, /au/ and /ia/ are seen to occur in the same word positions as the English diphthongs /a/, /ç/, /a/ and /i / respectively: English /bç/ > Kamtok /bçi/ ‘boy’ English /kra/ > Kamtok /krai/ ‘cry’ English /has/ > Kamtok /haus/ ‘house’ English /fi / > Kamtok /fia/ ‘fear’ On the other hand, the Kamtok vowel /e/ is being “split” to produce // and / / which had earlier been merged to produce it. Hence, instead of having a word like /bet/ stand for both English bed and bird, some Kamtok users regularly distinguish between /bd/ and /b d/, leaving the vowel /e/ to occur mostly in place of English /e/. These trends certainly deserve more attention from future researchers. 2.4.

Some phonological processes

2.4.1. Consonant devoicing Words of English origin undergo certain changes when they are adopted into Kamtok. One of these changes is the devoicing of final consonants such as /d, g, v, z/

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to produce [t, k, f, s]. When pronounced in isolation, words like /gud/ ‘good’, /big/ ‘big’, /bad/ ‘bad’ and /bed/ ‘bed’ sometimes retain voice on the final consonant, but when they are followed by a word with a voiceless consonant at initial position, the devoicing is obligatory. Consider these examples: /het pan/ /gut tçk/ /bik cçp/ /bat ti/ /bet pan/

‘headpan’ ‘good talk’ ‘big chop’ ‘bad thing’ ‘bed pan’

Final consonant devoicing has also been observed to occur systematically in words such as: /muf/ from English /muv/ ‘move’ /t
us/ from English /kskjuz/ ‘excuse’ /twef/ from English /twlv/ ‘twelve’ 2.4.2. Cluster simplification Consonant clusters in English can occur at the initial position, in the middle or at the end of the word. Kamtok words hardly have consonant clusters at final position. As a result, when Kamtok adopts English words, their final consonant clusters are usually simplified through the deletion of one or more consonants. The following examples illustrate final consonant deletion: English /grand/ > Kamtok /graun/ ‘ground’ English /hænd/ > Kamtok /han/ ‘hand’ English /læmp/ > Kamtok /lam/ ‘lamp’ English /snd/ > Kamtok /sen/ ‘send’ English /fst/ > Kamtok /fes/ ‘first’ English /mst/ > Kamtok /mçs/ ‘must’ English /ænd/ > Kamtok /an/ ‘and’ English /k r kt/ > Kamtok /kçrek/ ‘correct’ One rare example of consonant deletion at initial position is seen in the Kamtok word /trç/ from English /strç/ ‘strong’. A more common process in Kamtok is to reduce clusters at initial, and sometimes at final, position through vowel epenthesis, i.e. the insertion of a vowel between the two consonants forming the cluster as shown in the following examples: English /slip/ > Kamtok /silip/ ‘sleep’ English /spi / > Kamtok /sipia/ ‘spear’ English /tebl'/ > Kamtok /tebul/ ‘table’ English /snek/ > Kamtok /sinek/ ‘snake’

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2.4.3. Resurfacing of // and // These are two English consonants which are usually replaced in Kamtok by /d/ and /t/ respectively. Like some diphthong-like sounds discussed above, these sounds are increasingly resurfacing in the speech of English-Kamtok bilinguals, particularly in recent loans from English. If the trend persists, // and /d/ and // and /t/ will come to be considered as being in free variation in words such as /is/ and /dis/ “this” and /b/ and /bt/ “birth”. 2.5.

Prosodic features in Kamtok

Most discussions of prosodic features in Kamtok tend to focus on whether Kamtok is a tone language or not. There is indeed an on-going debate on this issue, one that has been going on for decades. Research findings at this stage unfortunately do not permit one to provide a conclusive answer to the question. The aim of this section is thus to simply provide a summary of the characteristic prosodic features that existing studies have identified. 2.5.1. Tone as a significant feature in Kamtok Most studies – e.g. Dwyer and Smith (1966), Mbassi-Manga (1976), Bellama, Nkwelle and Yudom (1983) – agree that tone is a feature of Kamtok speech, in that it distinguishes differences in meaning between words and utterances. Hence tone is used in Kamtok to bring out differences in meaning between the following: /bábà/ ‘barber’ and /bàbá/ ‘father’ /pç(pç)/ ‘proper’ or ‘real’ and /pç)pç(/ ‘pawpaw’ /gó/ ‘go’ and /gò/ future tense marker /na)so)/ ‘It is so’ and /na)so(/ ‘Is it so?’ Most studies acknowledge at least two tones: a rising or high (´) and a falling or low (`) tone. Dwyer and Smith (1966) talk of three tones: a strong high tone (´), a weak high tone (unmarked) and a low tone (`). Because the weak high tone is generally unmarked some researchers tend to ignore it. Dwyer and Smith (1966) also suggest that the high and low pitches of tone in Kamtok operate in registers. Within the register, all high pitches are at the same level just as are all low pitches. The strong high pitch usually terminates the register of which it is a member, as in /dát nà búk/ ‘that is a book’. Mbassi-Manga (1976) considers the minimal tone unit in Kamtok to correspond to a syllable or word, the maximal unit being the polysyllabic sense group.

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2.5.2. The link between pitch and stress. Most discussions of tone in Kamtok suggest an obvious link between pitch and stress. Dwyer (1966) state that Kamtok tone involves two separate but related features that are pitch and stress. The high pitch is usually accompanied by stress while the low pitch is usually unstressed. Mbassi-Manga (1976) goes further to point out that Kamtok does not have unstressed syllables as one finds in English. Except for emphatic stress, each syllable is uttered with the same amount of strength, except the last syllable which receives slightly more energy. Thus instead of talking about stressed and unstressed syllables, he suggests the notions of primary and secondary stress. Consider the following examples: / 'kç) *mç(t/ (secondary + primary stress) / 'a) sa) *lu(t/ (secondary + secondary + primary) Mbassi-Manga (1976) argues that in casual speech stress occurs on the final syllable of each word taken in isolation and of the sense group in connected speech. Thus pitch and stress combine in Kamtok to give its speech a characteristic melody that distinguishes it very clearly from English. Most researchers agree on the significance of tone in Kamtok and on the fact that although it exhibits stress, the language is syllable-timed. Those who accept the significance of tone in Kamtok but hesitate to conclude that it is a tone language argue that similar tone differentiations exist in the local variety of (standard) English, without leading to the conclusion that English is a tone language. Clearly developments in the area of tone are worthy of longitudinal studies.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM Bellama, David, Solomon Nkwelle and Joseph Yudom 1983 An Introduction to Cameroonian Pidgin. Revised Edition, Peace Corps. Cameroon. Bouchaud, Joseph 1952 La côte du Cameroun dans l’histoire et la cartographie: des origins à l’annexion allemande. Dike, K. Onwuka 1956 Trade and Politics in the Niger Delta, 1830–1885. Oxford: Clarendon. Dwyer, David 1966 An Introduction to West African Pidgin English, African Studies Center, Michigan State University.

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Keller, Werner, J. Schnellback and J.R. Brütsch 1969 The History of the Presbyterian Church in West Cameroon. Victoria: Press Books. Koenig, Edna, Emmanuel Chia and John Povey (eds.) 1983 A Sociolinguistic Profile of Urban Centers in Cameroon. Los Angeles: Crossroads Press. Mbassi-Manga, Francis 1973 English in Cameroon: a study of historical contacts, patterns of usage and common trends. Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Leeds. 1976 Pidgin English is not a Tone Language. Annals of the Faculty of Arts and Social Science (Yaounde), 6: 5–16. Schneider, Gilbert 1974 Masa Troki Tok Sey: A Compilation of Pidgin English Materials, Ohio University 1966 West African Pidgin English: A Descriptive Linguistic Analysis with Texts and Glossary form the Cameroon Area. Ohio University Center for International Studies, Ohio. Simo Bobda, Augustin 1992 Aspects of Cameroon English Phonology. Ph.D. disseration, University of Yaounde.

East African English (Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania): phonology Josef Schmied

1.

Introduction

The geographical limits of East Africa are not always clearly defined. Sometimes it ranges from the Red Sea down to the end of the Rift Valley somewhere in Mozambique. More usually the northern part (Ethiopia, Eritrea, Somalia, Djibuti and occasionally Sudan) is treated separately as North East Africa and the southern part with Zambia, Malawi and Zimbabwe is referred to as Central Africa, or with Mozambique, Namibia, Swaziland, Lesotho and the Republic of South Africa as Southern Africa (cf. also Schmied 1991). This contribution will concentrate on the “heartland” of Kenya, Uganda and Tanzania since they share a common “anglophone” background, despite some interesting differences in colonial heritage. These three countries are also characterised by a complex pattern of African first languages (mainly from the Bantu and Nilosaharan language families), a common lingua franca (Kiswahili) and an equally complex mixture of Christian, Islamic and native African religious and cultural beliefs. The revived East African Community (1967–1976 and from 1997) is a sociopolitical expression of this common heritage. Although many sociolinguistic (like code-switching and borrowing) and linguistic features (like vowel mergers and syllable-timed rhythm in pronunciation or overgeneralization in grammar and a formal tendency in style) can also be found in other parts of Africa, East African English (EAfE) can be distinguished clearly enough from other varieties to justify a coherent descriptive entity. Today such a description can only be based on authentic data from three types of empirical sources: exemplary quotations from individual recorded utterances, a quantified and stratified pattern retrieved from a corpus of EAfE, like ICE-East Africa (described in the volume on morphology and syntax), or quantitative results from internet search engines or tools using the www as a corpus. The following description tries to give a coherent picture by emphasising reasons and patterns, rules or rather tendencies, since no reason is unique and no rule applies to 100%. These patterns are illustrated by short examples and finally set into a larger co- and context by examples from real English. As in most dialectal and sociolinguistic research one isolated marker may indicate a characteristic usage clearly, but usually only a cluster of features gives us the authentic flavour of

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EAfE. In this sense it is a descriptive abstraction, not necessarily an established, recognised norm, which should become clear from the following survey. 1.1.

Historical background

English came late to East Africa, since for a long time the colonialists were not really interested in Africa. Instead the Swahili towns on the coast (Kilwa, Zanzibar, Mombasa, Malindi, etc.) were used as stepping stones to the jewel of the imperial crown, India. The last decades of the 19th century saw the establishment of British and German colonial power, mainly through Zanzibar. The most famous East African explorers Livingstone and Stanley (who met at Ujiji in 1871) were accompanied by other explorers and missionaries. The German missionaries Krapf, who founded Rabai near Mombasa in 1846, and Rebmann were the first Europeans to see the snows of Mount Kilimanjaro and Mount Kenya – but were not believed in Europe. Methodists opened a mission near Mombasa in 1862, Anglicans in Zanzibar in 1863 and Catholics in Bagamoyo in 1868. Ten years later they moved along the traditional trading route inland through Morogoro and Tabora to Ujiji on Lake Tanganyika. This shows that European intrusion followed the established Swahili trade routes – and used their language, Kiswahili, as a lingua franca. The brief German interlude (from Carl Peter’s first “treaties” in 1884 to World War I) established not German but Kiswahili in the colony, and laid the foundation for its success as a truly national language in Tanzania later. After the war some differences in colonial administration between Kenya, Uganda and Tanganyika/Zanzibar can be attributed to the role of the white settlers in Kenya, but a lot of similarities remain, although Tanganyika was only held by the British as a Mandate from the League of Nations. The system of “indirect rule” through African leaders (developed by Lord Luggard in Nigeria) was introduced everywhere. In contrast to Rhodesia (esp. present-day Zimbabwe), where the settlers were given self-governance, the primacy of “African interests” was decided in 1923. This is documented in the Land Ordinance Act, which secured land rights for Africans and not only Europeans, over 2000 of whom had spread particularly in the “White Highlands” north of Mount Kenya and east of Mount Elgon. In reality, British rule established a three-class system with the white colonial officers and settlers at the top, the Indian in the middle and the Black Africans at the bottom. The system of communication developed along the railway and highway lines with a few ethnic nuclei in fertile areas like Buganda, Kikuyuland/Mount Kenya or Chaggaland/Mount Kilimanjaro. The Indians had come to East Africa partly via the Swahili trade in Zanzibar, but mainly for the construction of the railways. They stayed not only in the (railway) administration but also as traders with their small dukas in the centres, often as “middleman”, who could be accused of exploitation by the European settlers and even more by the Africans. This made them easy

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targets for dictator Idi Amin, who caused their exodus from Uganda in 1972, and also for Africanisation policies in the other new nations. 1.2.

Colonial language policies

Despite British colonial rule, colonial language policy was not simply pro-English and more complex than is often assumed (cf. Spencer 1971). Of course, the various colonial administrations tried to regulate official language use in their territories. But this involved usually three types of language, the local “tribal” mother tongues and the African lingua franca (usually Kiswahili, only occasionally Luganda) besides English, for local, “intraterritorial” and international communication respectively. Other agents played a role as well, like the churches, who had enormous influence not only on church language but also on school language. Even the three British mission societies (the Universities Mission to Central African, the Church Mission Society and the London Mission Society) did not use English for evangelisation. The German missionary Krapf (in the services of the Church Mission Society) propagated a Latin spelling system for Kiswahili, which had been written in Arabic traditionally and maintained many Islamic connections, since he saw Kiswahili as “the most cultivated of dialects” and as a key to the inland languages. Protestant missions in general favoured (in Martin Luther’s tradition) “the language of the people”, i.e. the ethnic languages, but also the African lingua franca, Kiswahili. The Catholic church was usually more orthodox, supporting not only Latin in its services but also Kiswahili in their preaching. Even the British administration in Tanzania did not introduce English wholesale after taking over the former German colony. Rather, they admired the efficient German system, which according to a report from 1921 “made it possible to communicate in writing with every akida and village headman, and in turn to receive from him reports written in Kiswahili”. Thus English was established only in élitist circles when the colonial powers tried to regulate communication within the administrative, legal and education system. The considerations summarised in a report by the Phelps-Stokes Fund (cf. Schmied 1991: 15) led to a basically trilingual language policy with the ethnic “vernacular” for local communication and basic education, Kiswahili in ethnically mixed centres and English for the highest functions in administration, law and education. This led to the foundation of the Interterritorial Language Committee in 1929, which developed into the East African Swahili Committee later, responsible for standardisation, orthography reform and expansion on the basis of the Zanzibar variety KiUnguja (and not the KiMvita of Mombasa). English was the language of instruction mainly in the few prestigious secondary schools, e.g. in King’s College, Budo, Uganda, the school for chiefs’ sons in Tabora or Alliance High in Nairobi, and of course in the first East African university, Makerere (founded as a Technical School in 1922 and as a University College in 1949).

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It is important to remember that colonial language policies did not favour English, or other European languages, wholesale, but established a “trifocal” or trilingual system with (a) English as the elite and international language, (b) the regional lingua franca and (c) the “tribal” languages or “vernaculars” for local communication. The expansion of English down the social hierarchy began mainly at the end of colonial rule with the democratisation and expansion of education that was to prepare Africans for independence (cf. Schmied 1991: 18). After independence, surprisingly few changes occurred; although lip-service was usually paid to African languages. Only Tanzania made great progress towards expanding the functions of Kiswahili at the expense of English and local African languages. 1.3.

Sociolinguistic background

1.3.1. The range of variation in English in Africa One of the broadest categorisations of the English used in Africa is suggested by Angogo and Hancock (1980: 71), who distinguish the following types according to speakers: (a) (b) (c) (d)

native English of African-born whites and expatriates; native English of locally-born Africans; non-native English spoken fluently as a second language (…); non-native English spoken imperfectly as a foreign language (…).

The first category, White African English, is relatively insignificant in East Africa today, although the influence of the early British and South African settlers may have been considerable. The other three categories of (Black) African English constitute a continuum of English forms, which ranges from ‘native’ to ‘secondlanguage’ to ‘international’ varieties. It is worth noting, however, that these categories were used to illustrate differences between entire nations, especially in the process of developing (hypothetical) national varieties of English. When it comes to analysing language forms which are actually used in Africa, intranational and intrapersonal variation, the individual speaker’s sociolinguistic background and the actual speech-act situation must be taken into consideration. At the individual level, the type of English spoken by Africans depends largely (i.e. if we ignore special exposure to English either through personal acquaintances or the modern mass media) on two factors: (a) their education, i.e. the length and degree of formal education in English, and (b) their occupation, i.e. the necessity for and amount of English used in everyday life. The second category is also less important than in Southern or West Africa, although English may be used as the primary language even in the home in mixed marriages of highly educated partners. The last category reflects, of course, less the colonial heritage than the role of English as the international language of science and technology, international development and communication today. But “broken” English, “school” English

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or “bad” English is usually looked down upon as a sign of little education and ridiculed, especially in Kenya, in literature or political campaigns (e.g. in cartoons in the daily newspapers). Thus the varieties of EAfE show the characteristic features of New Englishes (cf. Platt, Weber and Ho 1984 or Hickey 2004), background, genesis and function. In particular they are not transmitted directly through native-speaker settlers; usage is formed mainly through its use as media of instruction in school and reinforced outside school; and they are used in public functions in the national educational, legal and administration system. Interestingly enough, the term New English is rarely used in East Africa, probably because Standard English even with EAfE pronunciation or as an (hypothetical) independent East African Standard is considered more appropriate. 1.3.2. The sociolinguistic situation today The common cultural background of the three countries makes the sociolinguistic situation rather similar. The major difference is the status of Kiswahili: in Tanzania, it is the true national language, since it is spoken nation-wide as a lingua franca, learnt in a relatively homogeneous form (sometimes called “Government Swahili”) in all primary schools and used in most national functions including education in most secondary schools; in Kenya it is just losing its associations with the coast or with lower social positions; in Uganda it is unfortunately still associated with the military and the “troubled” times in the 1970s and 1980s. This leaves more room for English and the other East African languages in Uganda and Kenya. The official status of English in government, parliament or jurisdiction is not always easy to establish, as conflicting laws, regulations and proclamations since independence 40 years ago may contradict each other. Whereas it is clearly the language of nation-wide politics in Uganda, it is rarely used in those functions in Tanzania. Kenya occupies a middle position in this regard. English is not really associated with white settlers any more. Although distinct accents can still be heard in this group, they range outside the general national norm. The multilingual educated African elite invests large sums of money in “good education”, which is usually based on “good English”. The Asians in East Africa are usually equally multilingual, speaking not only their native languages, mainly Gujarati or Panjabi, but also their own versions of Kiswahili and English. Knowledge and actual use of English are based on very rough estimates, since no nation-wide census data are available and the last language survey was sponsored by the Ford Foundation more than 30 years ago. Thus to say, for instance, that English is “spoken” by 30% in Uganda, 20% in Kenya and only 5% in Tanzania may give an indication of the (historical) differences in education, urbanisation, modernisation or internationalisation. However, this must be taken with great

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caution. Since English gives prestige, informants’ self-evaluations are unreliable, and nation-wide proficiency tests for national certificates of education often disappointing. The fact that even universities have started extensive course programmes in “Communication Skills” or even explicitly “Remedial English” reveals some of the problems at the highest level. The discussions can be followed even on the internet today in various contributions including numerous letters-to-the-editor to major national newspapers (e.g. “MUK enforces English for all” in The New Vision, Uganda’s leading daily 13/01/02). The key problem is that English is used as the language of instruction from upper primary school onward (in Uganda) and is thus the basis for all further education. The discussion is less about teaching English properly than teaching (other subjects) in English properly. In all countries English is still (in Tanzania again?) a result and a symbol of good education and, directly or indirectly, a prerequisite for well-paid jobs with international links in trade and tourism. This is often reflected in popular debates on language attitudes in East Africa. 1.3.3. Language attitudes today Attitudes towards languages in Africa can be heard in many debates, but systematic studies are rare and difficult. At least three types of attitudes have to be distinguished as far as English in East Africa are concerned. The stereotyped notions on English are usually extremely positive. It is seen as “sophisticated” and “superior” (but also as “difficult” and “formal”). Such notions may however have little effect on attitudes towards practical language use and usage in East Africa. Usually East Africans do not really subscribe to languageinherent properties (like English is “cool and impersonal”, “colonial” or “European”), although it may be considered more appropriate for formal and official use than other African languages. Language is mainly viewed in extremely practical terms, since it is too obvious that English is the international language of science and technology and world-wide communication. Thus international arguments in favour of English are also uncontroversial. Even the great supporter and translator of Kiswahili, President Nyerere of Tanzania, emphasised the importance of English calling it “the Kiswahili of the world”. The real issue is the use (and usage) of English in intranational communication, especially in African schools. Although the first-language principle (based on UNESCO recommendations since the 1950s) is normally accepted by African educationalists, nationally minded Tanzanians support the use of Kiswahili from the first day at school, whereas internationally minded parents in Uganda advocate a “fast track” to English, which had been common at independence. The stage of switching to English is usually after lower primary (four school years) in Uganda and after secondary school in Tanzania, whereas in Kenya it is at the beginning of the four years of secondary school at the latest. The debate is most heated in Tan-

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zania, where on the one hand in recent years many new private secondary schools have advertised English as a medium of instruction, while on the other hand even some universities have proposed teaching in Kiswahili. The same arguments pro and con have been used for decades (cf. Schmied 1991: chap. 7) and they can be detected again in most recent newspaper debates (e.g. in www.ippmedia.com). In contrast to these debates on practical language issues, attitudes towards African varieties of English are rarely discussed outside scholarly circles. Accepting African forms is hardly openly admitted except in pronunciation, where “aping the British” is seen as highly unnatural. Grammar and syntax in particular are considered the glue that holds the diverging varieties of English together; and international intelligibility is deemed absolutely essential as the major asset of the international language cannot be jeopardised. Thus Standard English with African pronunciation may be accepted as an intranational norm, but Ugandan, Kenyan or Tanzanian English will not be tolerated at least in the near future. On the other hand the theoretical British norm is only upheld in books and rarely experienced in use in present-day Africa. 1.4.

Reasons for East African forms of English

The reasons for the occurrence of African forms different from Standard English are manifold and can basically be attributed to at least four factors as far as their origin is concerned. For EAfE today the role of distinctly different native speaker English (e.g. Scottish English or even Scots) may be neglected, hence the importance of three major factor groups or reasons. (a) Influence of the learners’ mother tongue and other African languages Since English is learnt as a second language in East Africa, it is likely that features and strategies from first language acquisition are transferred; negative transfer is usually called interference. This has long been seen as the basic cause for African variation in English, because it obviously influences the pronunciation, often distinctly. Since non-African mother-tongue speakers as role-models are rare nowadays, common deviations become institutionalised and give a specific stamp to African English in its various forms. The great fear in Africa is that when one generation of poorly-trained African teachers passes on their English to the next generation, mother-tongue interference could be cumulative so that, with time, English could deviate more and more from accepted norms (like the minimal fivevowel system in EAfE below). From today’s perspective, mother-tongue influence on African English seems to have been overestimated. Because English is for many Africans only one possible choice in their verbal repertoire, which will include more than one African language, it may be safer to assume the influence of a common substratum of the African languages known by the English user. Interestingly enough, some speak-

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ers of African English exhibit “interference features” although they do not derive from their mother tongues but from other languages used in the area. Furthermore, often several factors may converge (b) General language learning strategies The influence of general psycholinguistic processes on a second language is very difficult to assess; it is only possible to compare input and output of the human brain and draw conclusions on cognitive processing. There is some evidence that language learners in general use simplification strategies at an early stage (it seem_ that …, where morphological simplification may be supported by pronunciation simplification of an alveolar in front of a dental fricative). Later they try to reproduce memorised phrases from the target language, irrespective of the linguistic and pragmatic context (his/her level best seems to occur more often in African than in European English). From a certain stage onwards learners enjoy complicating their language and even tend to exaggerate typically English features (he is living in Eldoret is an overgeneralization when temporary meaning is not implied; she ran fastly is a hypercorrect form, as unmarked adverbs are associated with broken English). When the learning process does not progress normally, certain developmental errors, which occur regularly in first and second language acquisition, become fossilised, i.e. they become permanent features (like the plural of non-count nouns like informations or discontents). This includes overgeneralisations like neglecting restrictions or differences between gerunds and infinitives in complementation (such as I wouldn’t mind to give instead of giving). All these creative strategies of language learners must have played a certain role in the development of African varieties of English. (c) Exposure to the written language The fact that in many societies, including African ones, the written word has an authority exceeding that of the spoken form has far-reaching consequences for English language learners, particularly in a situation where languages other than English dominate in oral communication. Thus African speakers of English tend to reproduce characteristics of written English even in the spoken form. Grammatical constructions and lexical items from relatively formal registers or spelling pronunciations, like [saId] or [dZuIs] for said and juice, will often be used. This explains the articulations of /h/ in heir or of /b/ in debt and generally the tendency of the central NURSE vowel to assume the sound value “suggested” by the orthographic symbol that represents it (e.g. [adZ] for urge vs. [he:d] for heard). As Shakespeare and the Bible have until recently – when they were replaced by modern African classics like Achebe and Meja Mwangi – been most commonly used for teaching the target language, African varieties have tended to have an archaic flavour.

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2.

Phonology

The phonology of EAfE is of particular importance because (non-standard) pronunciation features seem to be the most persistent in African varieties, i.e. they are retained even in the speech of the most educated speakers. This may be because in many languages pronunciation seems to be the most flexible element, which can be used (subconsciously) to express subtle sociolinguistic messages of speaker identity and of distance from or solidarity with the listener. English appears to be particularly fluid at this level. Even the supposed norms in Britain have moved so far away from the institutionalised written form that the graphemic system cannot symbolise the diverging phonemic systems any more. Mistakes in the form of phonetic spellings do, however, allow conclusions on the pronunciation even from written texts. The features characterising African pronunciations of English can be found at subphonemic, phonemic and supraphonemic levels. Differences at the phonemic level are important because here differences of lexical meaning are maintained. This can be illustrated (and elicited) in minimal pairs like ram and lamb; beat and bit; or show and so. Many Africans would not distinguish clearly in pronunciation between the elements of such pairs tending towards the same pronunciation (homophony). 2.1.

Consonants

Among the consonants, /r/ and /l/ are a particularly infamous pair for many Bantu speakers, both rendered as one and the same, often intermediate sound between /loli/ and /rori/ instead of /lori/, for instance. In Kenya, the pair is a clear subnational identifier, since even educated Gikuyu clearly tend towards /r/ and the neighbouring Embu towards /l/. Occasionally the sets /tS/, /S/ and /s/, and /dZ/, /Z/ and /z/ are not distinguished clearly either. Other problematic consonants are /T/ and /D/, which often deviate in the direction of /d/ and /t/ or, sometimes, /z/ and /s/, rarely /v/ and /f/. Most of these deviations are registered by East Africans as subnational peculiarities. However, even though phoneme mergers are clearly noticeable, they do not endanger the consonant system as a whole. These examples show three general tendencies for consonants: (a) The merger of /r/ and /l/ is wide-spread, but still stigmatized. (b) Intrusive or deleted (as a hypercorrect tendency) nasals, especially /n/ in front of plosives, are common, since some languages like Gikuyu have homorganic nasal consonants. (c) English fricatives are generally difficult but particular deviations are often restricted to certain ethnic groups At the subphonemic level, which is not important for differences in meaning but gives the English spoken a particular colouring, an interesting consonant is /r/. As

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in most English varieties, /r/ is usually only articulated in pre-vocalic positions (i.e. EAfE is non-rhotic) and its pronunciation varies considerably (whether it is rolled or flapped). 2.2.

Vowels

A comparison of the English phoneme system with that of most African languages shows that the major difference are not the consonants but the few vowel contrasts compared to the extensive English vowel system. Thus the vowel system of EAfE deviates systematically, vowels tend to merge, because the extreme range of the English vowel continuum is not covered by the underlying African systems of, for instance, the Bantu languages. On the whole three basic generalisations may be made for English vowels: (a) Length differences in vowels are levelled and not used phonemically; thus FLEECE and KIT, GOOSE and FOOT, THOUGHT and NORTH, and BATH, STRUT and TRAP tend to merge. This is not only a quantitative, but also a qualitative shift, as usually short vowels in EAfE are longer and more peripheral than in RP, especially /I/ tends towards /i>/, /U/ towards /u>/, /ç/ towards /o>/ and /√/ and /Q/ towards /a>/. (b) The central vowels of STRUT, NURSE and lettER, are avoided and tend towards half-open or open positions of BATH and, less often, DRESS. This conforms to the tendency towards more extreme articulatory positions of the tongue in general. It leads (together with the syllable-timing, cf. 2.2.3. below) to the phenomenon that, whereas vowels in full syllables tend to be underdifferentiated, those in unstressed ones may be overdifferentiated. Hence the difference between policeman and policemen or between the suffixes -ance and -ence may be clearer than in Standard English. (c) Diphthongs tend to have only marginal status and to be monophthongized. In the short closing diphthongs MOUTH and particularly FACE the second element is hardly heard in many African varieties (as in Scotland; thus coinciding almost with the DRESS vowel). Diphthongs with a longer glide are preserved, but they are not really pronounced as falling diphthongs, i.e. with less emphasis on the second element than on the first, but rather as double monophthongs (e.g. [oI], [aU]). All the centring diphthongs (NEAR, SQUARE, CURE) tend to be pronounced as opening diphthongs or double monophthongs ([Ia, ea, ua]; cf. tendency (b) above). These general observations on vowel pronunciation seem to hold for so many African varieties that this cannot be interpreted merely as a product of mother-tongue interference. In fact, some of these features of “Africanization” have already been predicted by Gimson (1980: 306) in very general terms, i.e. without any refer-

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ence to Africa, because of the particularly complex structure of the English vowel system: … the full systems [20 vowels and 24 consonants] must be regarded as complex compared with the systems of many other languages. In particular, the opposition of the close vowels /i:/-/i/, /u:/-/u/, the existence of a central long vowel /Œ:/ and the delicately differentiated front vowel set of /i:/-/i/-/e/-/Q/ + /√/, together with the significant or conditioned variations of vowel length, will pose problems to many foreign learners.

Finally, it is worth considering the vowel system as a whole (in terms of Wells 1982). In contrast to West African varieties, which tend towards a basic sevenvowel system, East African varieties tend towards a basic five-vowel system (Table 1). Table 1. The vowels of East African English (mesolectal tendencies) KIT

i

FLEECE

i

PRICE

aI

FOOT TRAP

u a

GOOSE DRESS

u e

CHOICE SQUARE

oI ea

NURSE LOT

a o

THOUGHT o FORCE o

NEAR GOAT

Ia o

CLOTH STRUT

o a

NORTH START

o a

CURE FACE

Ua e

COMMA lettER

a a

BATH PALM

a a

MOUTH ABOUT

aU a

happY

I

horsES

I

An interesting single parameter in this respect is the deviation of the RP long central NURSE vowel: it tends toward a back vowel /ç/ in West African varieties, towards a front vowel /a/ in Eastern and towards /e/ Southern African varieties, but these tendencies are not uniform in a region, neither across all ethnic groups, nor across the lexicon, as in Tanzania girl tends towards front (DRESS) and turn towards back pronunciation (START) because of spelling pronunciation – cf. 1.4 (c) above. 2.3.

Suprasegmental patterns

Other important features of African English are supraphonemic, i.e. related to phoneme sequences, word stress, intonation and general rhythmic patterns. Many of these phenomena are difficult to describe, so that some examples from three particularly striking aspects may suffice: the avoidance of consonant clusters, the more regular word stress and the special rhythm.

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2.3.1. Phonotactic patterns Consonant clusters are a major phonotactic problem in EAfE, as many African languages have a relatively strict consonant-vowel syllable structure (often CV-CVCV). This explains African English tendencies with regard to consonant clusters and final consonants. Consonant clusters tend to be dissolved, either by dropping one/some of the consonants involved or by splitting them through the insertion of vowels. Final consonants are dropped when there are two or more in a sequence, e.g. in [neks] for next and [hen] or [han] for hand. But this tendency also occurs in nativespeaker English and its frequency seems to vary a lot. The general rule appears to be that if plosives are preceded by fricatives, they are dropped in word-final position; if they are preceded by other plosives or occur in non-final position they are split by vowels inserted between the consonants. A similar phenomenon occurs when final vowels are added to closed syllables, i.e. syllables ending in consonants. The vowels inserted or added are normally [I] or [U], depending on the occurrence of palatal or velar consonants in the environment ( e.g. [hosIpItalI] for hospital or [spIrInI] for spring) or on vowel harmony (e.g. in [bUkU] for book). 2.3.2. Word stress A particularly striking feature is the African tendency towards more regular stress rhythms. Again, the problem lies often within the English tendencies to maintain partly the Romance principle of word stress on the penultimate syllable in contrast to the general Germanic principle of stressing the stem. This leads to differences in word stress between etymologically obviously related words when prefixes and suffixes are added, thus ad»mire is not stressed on the same syllable as admiration and »admirable; here East Africans are tempted to stress [ad»maIrabl] and sometimes even [ad»maIre»Sen] just like [ad»maIa]. Of course, the problem of a whole series of unstressed syllables is intrinsic to British Standard English; even American English has secondary stress regularly in words like secretary. Thus the final word stress on suffixes like -»ize and particularly -»ate may not be that surprising in theory, but it may be in practice. The tendency is not systematic, since in most cases the frequency and familiarity of words supports the “correct” British English pronunciation. In other cases better known, etymologically related or similar words may serve as models. This tendency faces the problem that Standard English uses stress to indicate word class. In EAfE the distinction between the verbs pro»test, alter»nate, at»tribute and the nouns »protest, »alternate, »attribute through stress is not always maintained.

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2.3.3. Syllable-timed rhythm The most striking feature of African Englishes is the tendency towards a syllabletimed rather than a stress-timed rhythm. Thus an EAfE speaker tends to give all syllables more or less equal stress and does not “cram” up to three unstressed syllables together into one stress unit to form so-called “weak” forms as speakers of British English do. This underlying pattern accounts for most suprasegmental patterns in EAfE mentioned above (e.g. to give too much weight to unstressed syllables), and its sometimes unfamiliar rhythm. It may also cause misunderstandings in intercultural communication, when EAfE may be misjudged as “unfriendly machine-gun fire” or “childish song-song”. The interesting question is whether this helps communication with francophone Africans, whose speech is also syllable-timed.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Angogo, Rachel and Hancock, Ian 1980 English in Africa: emerging standards or diverging regionalisms? English World-Wide 1: 67–96. Gimson, Alfred Charles 1980 An Introduction to the Pronunciation of English. London: Arnold. (3rd ed.)

White South African English: phonology Sean Bowerman

1.

Introduction

The term ‘White South African English’ is applied to the first language varieties of English spoken by White South Africans, with the L1 English variety spoken by Zimbabweans and Namibians, mainly of British descent, being recognised as offshoots. There is some social and regional variation within the variety. Social variation within White South African English (henceforth WSAfE) has been classified into three groupings (termed ‘The Great Trichotomy’ by Lass (2002: 109ff)): Cultivated, closely approximating RP and associated with upper class; General, a social indicator of the middle class, and Broad, associated with the working class and/or Afrikaans descent, and closely approximating the second-language Afrikaans English variety. An historical overview of the origins of English in South Africa will place these variations into perspective. 1.1.

The origins and propagation of English in South Africa

1.1.1. The Cape Colony British ships en route to the East in the 18th century were frequent visitors to the Cape, which was then an invaluable trading and refreshment station under Dutch control. After the French Revolution of 1789–1791, republican France overran the territories of the royalist Netherlands and laid claim to all its colonies and territories, including the strategically positioned Cape colony. Britain perceived this as a threat to (their interests at) the Cape, and in 1795 a British fleet landed at the Cape, having driven back the Dutch defenders, and laid claim to the territory. The Netherlands briefly re-established sovereignty as the Batavian Republic, upon which the Cape was returned; but in 1806 the Napoleonic Wars again saw the Netherlands subjugated to France, and Britain once more launched a successful assault on the Cape, this time proclaiming a colony and installing a governor. The Cape was formally surrendered to Britain in 1814. Seeking to establish the Cape as a viable colony, Britain launched a settlement programme in which approximately 4500 Britons were landed at Algoa Bay in the eastern Cape in 1820 and 1821. The 1820 Settlers, as they came to be known, were mainly working class people drawn from all over Britain. While their speech was homogenously L1 English, they spoke a large variety of regional dialects, rather than RP. The Settlers were given land for farming, and came to live in close

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contact with their Dutch neighbours. Within two generations, the regional dialect distinctions had been levelled (Lanham 1982: 325). In 1822, English was proclaimed as the sole official language of the Cape Colony, supplanting Dutch in almost all public spheres. The British colony expanded rapidly, and Settlers were dogged by conflict with indigenous peoples, into whose territory the colony was now intruding. Moreover, political tensions between Dutch and English settlers continued to mount, leading to the Great Trek of 1834–1836, in which Dutch settlers left the Cape Colony in large numbers to escape British rule and seek autonomy elsewhere. The ‘Trekkers’ pushed northwards and eastwards, establishing three territories: the ‘South African Republic’, which later became known as Transvaal; the Orange River Sovereignty, later Orange Free State, and Natalia. While Dutch became the official language of these territories, a competency in English remained a hallmark of good education (Lanham 1982: 325). 1.1.2. Natal The autonomy of Natalia (which occupies most of present-day KwaZulu-Natal) was short-lived. After a brief period of war, Britain annexed Natalia to the Cape Colony, and shortly thereafter proclaimed it a crown colony (Natal) in its own right. This led to an influx of English speaking settlers, and large numbers of English settlers arrived in Natal under an organised British settlement programme between 1848 and 1862. Lanham (1982: 325) reports that a higher proportion of settlers to Natal were middle or higher class, and that there was very little contact with Dutch settlers, and no conflicts with indigenous peoples in which civilian colonists were involved. While social distinctions based on position and rank were levelled in the Cape Colony, they tended to be maintained in Natal. Moreover, the origins of the settlers to Natal were less diverse than those to the Cape, and the population more urbanised. Thus, the English of the first generation settlers in Natal differed from that of the Cape settlers in that there was much less social and regional differentiation, but also much less social levelling (Lanham 1982 : 325f). 1.1.3. South African Republic (Transvaal) and Orange Free State Until the 1870s, South Africa (as it is currently known) comprised four major territories: the British-administered and English speaking Cape and Natal colonies, and the independent, Dutch-speaking Voortrekker (or ‘Boer’) republics: the South African Republic/Transvaal and the Orange Free State. The discovery of gold and diamonds in the Voortrekker republics in the 1870s brought a rush of fortune seekers from all over the world, as well as from the British colonies. This significantly swelled the English-speaking population of the Voortrekker republics, and led to increased contact between the two groups. The ‘mineral revolution’ (Lanham 1982: 327) in southern Africa coincided with the

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Industrial Revolution in Europe and the United States, and industrialisation began in South Africa. Meanwhile, all four of the (main) settler territories battled continuously with the indigenous peoples for land, and the indigenous peoples were finding themselves overrun as settler populations expanded. The pursuit of fortune in the mining centres led to social stratification (Lanham 1982: 327), as some were successful and others weren’t. The relatively sophisticated, urbanite Natalians were better-placed, being used to this lifestyle; but the more rural frontiersmen, both English and Dutch-speaking, from the Cape, and the Dutch settlers of the Voortrekker republics found themselves at the lower end of the social strata. Lanham (1982: 328) reports on the fortunate position of the Natalian, whose better education, slightly dubious higher-class status and speech in the colonies could not be faulted by the lower-placed colonials from the Cape (‘whose sensitivities to the fine detail of British behaviour had faded’) and others, who had had no contact with Britain and things British. 1.1.4. English in ‘unitary’ South Africa: 1870s to 1994 By the late 1800s, social stratification in the White communities could be categorised as follows: British (immigrant), colonial, Dutch and European Jew (Lanham 1982: 327). British immigrants and Natal colonials occupied the upper ends of the hierarchy, with British and Natal accents being perceived as having the highest status. Cape colonial English and second language varieties had much lower status; indeed, the first language Cape colonial variety and the Afrikaans English variety were ‘not differentiated … in the ears of the majority in the mining city’ (Lanham 1982: 327). British interests in the mineral and other industries in Southern Africa, and the desire to expand the British empire, saw the occupation of the Boer republics from the late 1870s. This culminated in the South African War of 1899–1902, in which the British prevailed. The Boer republics were annexed to the British crown, and given the status of Crown Colonies. This led to a further influx of English first language speakers to the former Boer republics, and increased status for English. The four crown colonies—the Cape, Natal, Orange Free State and Transvaal—formed the Union of South Africa, under British rule, in 1910. British colonials, and English, dominated the political scene until after World War II. Mining, a chiefly British interest, was the dominant industry, with the home-born, successful, upper-class Englishman setting the standard to aspire to (Lanham 1982: 329). Locally, the prestigious Natal variety of English set the standard for South African English, while Cape colonial English and the second language Afrikaans-English variety remained stigmatised, relatively low status varieties. South African Dutch, which became known as Afrikaans in 1924, retained official language status and remained a significant home language, but was dominated in the cities and in all public spheres by English (Watermeyer 1996: 103). Resis-

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tance to British rule and English increased, giving rise to Afrikaner nationalism, which openly promoted loyalty to Afrikaans and hostility to English. In White society, English and Afrikaans speakers became more and more divided, and during World War II the Afrikaner Nationalist Party aligned itself with Nazi Germany, making the rift even deeper (Lanham 1996: 25). In 1948, the Afrikaner Nationalist Party triumphed over the English United Party in national (‘Whites only’) elections, and set about increasing the status of Afrikaans in public spheres. The Nationalist Party dominated South African politics until 1994, imposing Afrikaans as the de facto first official language of the country, and limiting the influence of English, particularly in African education (Lanham 1996: 26). However, the English first language community remained significant, English remained legally equal to Afrikaans, and continued to dominate in commerce, higher education and industry (Mesthrie 2002: 22). All White pupils had to learn both official languages as school subjects: the usual pattern was for the home language to be learnt as ‘first language’, and the ‘other official language’ was to be learnt as second language. This meant that most Afrikaans L1 speakers gained some competency in English. The apartheid policies of the National Party government had disastrous consequences in all areas of life. It was the attempted imposition of Afrikaans as a joint medium of instruction with English in Black secondary schools that led to the tragic Soweto riots of 1976, and resistance to Afrikaans was greatly increased. In terms of language status, English benefited from this. English was the lingua franca of the struggle (strengthening its position for the role it was later to play in the country), and became the sole medium of instruction in nearly all Black secondary schools. Thus, English played a dominant role in the education sector, with each province setting its own standards for the teaching of English – the variety associated with middle to upper class in each region was accepted as the provincial standard. 1.1.5. English in post-apartheid South Africa In 1994, the National Party was ousted by the African National Congress in the country’s first democratic elections, and Afrikaans was deposed from its role as first official language. Along with English, Afrikaans was given legal status as one of eleven official languages. In reality, the decline of Afrikaans in public roles has been drastic, while the dominance of English is almost total, particularly in education, where it is by far the dominant medium of instruction of secondary and higher education. English is the language to aspire to in the New South Africa, even though it is the L1 of only 8.2% of the population (Census 2001 results). It is likely to retain this role for the foreseeable future. Since 1994, English has only marginally increased as a home language among Black people, though an increase in this statistic among middle-class Black people residing in formerly ‘whites only’ suburbs is likely in the near future.

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It is important to note that labels such as ‘White South African English’, ‘Black South African English’, etc. are not intended to reflect the apartheid classifications; however, owing to South Africa’s legacy, the correlations between ethnic affiliation and dialect of English remains significant. The old label, ‘South African English’, used to refer only to WSAfE as the source variety, and L2 varieties were given an additional descriptor: Black SAfE, Indian SAfE, etc. As these varieties become or show the potential of becoming first language varieties, SAfE is held over as a cover term (following de Klerk 1996), and all varieties of South African English are given a descriptor. WSAfE continues to be the standard, and, following the collapse of apartheid, children from ‘non-white’ communities who attend (prestigious) schools which uphold WSAfE norms are increasingly adopting these norms into their own speech. At the less prestigious end of the spectrum, WSAfE varieties tend to merge with the second language Afrikaans English (generally the norm of White Afrikaans – English bilinguals, or, in the Cape, so-called Cape Flats English, mainly associated with ‘Coloured’ people. These labels reflect generalities, though, and are not in fact confined to apartheid-style ethnic groupings. Regional variation in WSAfE is naturally associated with the strongest concentrations of White English speaking communities. These can broadly be divided into (Western) Cape, Natal and Transvaal (Gauteng) English, and recognisable Namibian and Zimbabwean varieties.

2.

Phonology

2.1.

Overview

The two main phonological indicators of White South African English are the behaviour of the vowels in KIT and BATH. The KIT vowel tends to ‘split’, so that there is a clear allophonic variation between the close, front [I] and a somewhat more central [ї]. The BATH vowel is characteristically open and back in the General and Broad varieties of WSAfE. The tendency to monophthongise both MOUTH and PRICE to [a˘] are also typical features of General and Broad WSAfE. Consonantal indicators include the tendency for voiceless plosives to be unaspirated in stressed word-initial environments; [tj] tune and [dj] dune tend to be realised as [tS] and [dZ] respectively; and I have noticed a strong tendency for /h/ to be voiced initially.

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2.2.

The vowel system

Table 1. The Wells’ lexical sets for WSAfE KIT TRAP

[I] ~ [I_], [´]; [i] [Q] > [E]

DRESS

[e]

LOT

[Å_] > [ç], [√]

STRUT

[a_] > [å]

FOOT

[U] > [¨]

FLEECE

[i˘]

NURSE

[Œ˘], [ø˘]

GOOSE

[u˘], [¨˘] > [y˘]

THOUGHT

[ç˘], [ø˘]

BATH

[A_˘], [A˘]

FACE

[eI] > [QI], [√I]

PRICE

[aI], [a˘]

MOUTH

[aU], [a˘]

CHOICE

[çi]

GOAT

[EU] > [«U] , [ø¨] > [øF_]

SQUARE NEAR

[E˘], [e˘] [I´]

CURE

[u´]

HAPPY

[I], [i]

LETTER

[´]

COMMA

[å], [´]

2.2.1. The short monophthongs KIT KIT is ‘split’ (see Lass 2002: 113f) between the realisations [I] and [I_] in General,

and [i] and [I_] to [´] in Broad. The split is an allophonic variation, with the fronter realisation occurring in velar and palatal environments, and the more central one occurring elsewhere. Cultivated WSAfE lacks this split, but KIT is a reliable sociolinguistic marker for White South African English in general. Before […], the vowel may be as far back as [µ_]. DRESS

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This vowel is usually realised as [e], though it is lowered to [E] in Broad, sometimes approaching [Q], especially before […]. Some varieties of Broad and General WSAfE place this vowel higher, around raised [e] or lowered [I]. TRAP

A slightly raised [Q] is the usual realisation for this vowel in Cultivated and General. In Broad varieties, it is often raised to [E], so that TRAP encroaches on DRESS for some speakers. (Lanham 1967: 9) LOT

The range of this vowel is between [Å_] and [ç]. Lass (2002: 115) noted a tendency towards [√_] in younger Cape Town and Natal speakers of General WSAfE. STRUT

This is typically a low to mid, centralised vowel ([a_] to [å]) in WSAfE. FOOT

Generally realised as high, back centralised [U]. There is little variation, except that there is very little lip rounding relative to other L1 varieties of English worldwide. The pronunciation [U7] (with added lip-rounding) is associated with Broad, but is more a feature of Afrikaans English. 2.2.2. The long monophthongs FLEECE

In all varieties, a long close front unround vowel, [i˘]. NURSE

In Cultivated varieties, a somewhat central vowel approximating the RP [Œ˘]. In General and Broad, it is more rounded, and fronter: [O˘] – [O˘_], as in French peu. GOOSE

This vowel is usually high central [¨˘] or fronter, significantly more forward than its RP equivalent [u˘]. Cultivated speakers, however, produce a vowel closer to [u˘]. Lass (2002: 116) notes a tendency towards [y˘] in younger, and especially female, General speakers. BATH

Except in the Cultivated variety, this vowel is low and fully back, [A˘]. In Broad varieties, there is a tendency to shorten, round and raise the vowel, so that it becomes [Å] – [ç] (Lass 2002: 117; Lanham 1967: 14). Cultivated speakers realise a more central version, [A˘]. THOUGHT

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In Cultivated speech, the vowel is quite open, like RP [ç˘]. In General and Broad, it is higher, [o˘]. Broad varieties also have THOUGHT in words like cloth and loss, where LOT is more typical (Lass 2002: 116). 2.2.3. The diphthongs FACE

The norm for Cultivated and General WSAfE varieties is [eI]. Lass notes a tendency for the onset to be opener the further one deviates from the standard (2002: 117), even to [QI]. Broad White South African English is characterised by the onset being both open and back, [√I]. PRICE

The Cultivated WSAfE realisation is close to RP [aI]. In General and Broad, the articulation of the first element is often monophthongised to [a˘]. In Broad, the first element is somewhat back, but more forward and higher than in BATH, and the offglide is often retained: [A_I]. See also MOUTH, below. MOUTH

Cultivated usually has [A_U], while General again follows the tendency to monophthongise diphthongs, and often has [A˘]. Broad has a much fronter onset, and retains the offglide: [QU]. CHOICE

In all varieties, the realisation is usually [çI]; the onset can be as low as LOT in older Cultivated WSAfE speakers (Lass 2002: 118). GOAT

There is a tendency among some Cultivated speakers not to round the onset of this diphthong, so that a Cultivated realisation ranges around [EU] or [øU]. The onset is always rounded in General varieties, usually mid-low; but the offglide is more central, sometimes unrounded, and there is once again a tendency to monophthongise. Thus, ‘normal’ General pronunciations of GOAT would be [ø¨], [øF_] or [ø˘]. In Broad, the onset is much further back, and unrounded: [√U]. SQUARE

In Cultivated, square is pronounced [E´], as it is in RP. General speakers follow the tendency to monophthongise, and usually realise the long vowel [E˘]. Broad speakers monophthongise and raise, to [e˘]. NEAR

This is usually [I´] in all varieties, with a tendency to monophthongisation in Broad, particularly after [j]. E.g. [njI˘] ‘near’. CURE

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This is usually realised as diphthongal [U´] in Cultivated and General; but there is a growing trend, especially when the vowel does not occur after /j/ (sure), in General toward Broad’s monophthongal [o˘], perhaps slightly lower than THOUGHT. This probably accounts for the spelling of you’re as your in everything from student essays to newspaper advertisements. HAPPY

The unstressed (or secondarily stressed – see Lass 2002: 119) vowel is usually /i˘/, but half-long [i>]. Lanham marks this as an indicator of White South African English (1968: 8). LETTER

[´] in all varieties; very often omitted before another consonant: [kItn2] kitten. COMMA

Usually [´], but may be as open as [å] in Cultivated WSAfE; and also in Broad varieties close to Afrikaans English. 2.3.

The Consonant System

2.3.1. Plosives /p, b, t, d, k, g/ The ‘voiced’ and ‘voiceless’ plosives are distinctive in White South African English, and voiceless plosives are generally unaspirated in all positions in Broad White South African English, serving as a marker for this subvariety (Lass 2002: 120). Other varieties aspirate a voiceless plosive before a stressed syllable. The contrast is neutralised in Broad. Broad speakers tend to pronounce /t, d/ with some dentition. 2.3.2. Fricatives and affricates /f, v, T, D, s, z, S, Z, x, h/ White South African English is one of very few varieties to have a velar fricative phoneme /x/, (see Lass 2002: 120) but this is only in words borrowed from Afrikaans (e.g. gogga [xox´] = bug, insect) and Khoisan [x]amtoos (the name of a river). Many speakers use the Afrikaans uvular fricative [X] rather than the velar. The tendency for [T] to be realised as [f] is a stereotypical Broad feature, but is more accurately associated with Afrikaans English (AfkE). As in many varieties of English, word-final /v, D, z, Z/ are usually voiceless, and are distinguished only by the length of the preceding vowel. In Broad varieties close to AfkE, /h/ is realised as voiced [˙] before a stressed vowel.

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2.3.3. Nasals /m, n, N/ The nasals are not distinctive markers for any variety of White South African English; though /n/ may be dental [n5] before dental consonants. 2.3.4. Liquids /j, w, r, l/ In Broad and some General WSAfE varieties, /j/ strengthens to /ƒ/ before a high front vowel: yield [ƒI˘…d]. /r/ is usually postalveolar or retroflex [®] in Cultivated and General WSAfE, while Broad varieties have [R] or sometimes even trilled [r]. The latter is more associated with the L2 Afrikaans English variety, though it is sometimes stigmatised as a marker of Broad (Lass 2002: 121). WSAfE is non-rhotic, losing postvocalic /r/, except (in some speakers) as a liaison between two words, when the /r/ is underlying in the first (for a while, here and there etc.) However, intrusive /r/ is not represented in other contexts: (law and order) [lo˘no˘d´]. The intervocalic hiatus that is created by the absence of linking /r/ can be broken by vowel deletion, as in the example just given; by a corresponding glide [lo˘W´no˘d´], or by the insertion of a glottal stop: [lo˘/´no˘d´]. The latter is typical of Broad WSAfE. There is some evidence of postvocalic /r/ in some Broad Cape varieties, typically in –er suffixes (e.g. writer). This could be under the influence of Afrikaans (and it is a feature of Afrikaans English); or perhaps a remnant of (non-RP) British English from the Settlers. Postvocalic /r/ appears to be entering younger people’s speech under the influence of American dialects. This is a development to be monitored; as yet it is not vernacular. /l/ is clear [l] syllable initially, and dark (velarised) […] syllable finally. When /l/ occurs at the end of a word, but before another word beginning with a vowel, it tends to be realised as clear in Cultivated WSAfE (Lass 2002: 121). Some (particularly older) Cultivated speakers retain the [w] ~ [w6] distinction (as in witch ~ which, but this distinction is absent from General and Broad, which have only [w].

3.

Conclusion

The most salient feature of WSAfE is perhaps the behaviour of KIT, DRESS, TRAP: TRAP and DRESS are raised (relative to RP and most other L1 varieties of English), and KIT is centralised. This has often been attributed to the influence of the Afrikaans vowel system (see e.g. Lanham 1968: 7ff). Lass and Wright proposed an alternative and more feasible alternative: that these three vowels are in fact in-

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volved in a chain shift. Raising of British/RP TRAP in (early) WSAfE encroached on DRESS, which itself raised (to keep the distinction), encroaching on KIT, which was pushed across towards [I]. This can be illustrated as follows: the RP or input vowel is shown in miniscules, and the WSAfE innovation in capitals: kit ↑

→

KIT

DRESS

↑ dress ↑ BAT

↑ bat Figure 1.

The short front vowel chain shift in WSAfE

The diagram is taken from Lass (2002: 113); for a full elucidation of the chain shift, see Lass and Wright (1986: 207ff). This identifies WSAfE as a Southern Hemisphere English, as Australian English and New Zealand English also show raising in the high front vowels; though neither have yet achieved the push from [I] to more centralised [I_], realising lowered [i] instead. AusE and NZE also share /i/ in happy with WSAfE. WSAfE and NZE share /A˘/ in dance, glass, etc. (Trudgill and Hannah 1994:30). Some marked distinctions between WSAfE and AusE and NZE are: – the behaviour of FLEECE, which is diphthongal [Ii] ~ [Ii] in the latter varieties (Lass 2002: 116) – the backness of BATH: fully back [A˘] in WSAfE, contrasting with the fully frontal [a] in AusE and NZE (Trudgill and Hannah 1994: 30). The expansion of WSAfE to younger middle class members of other ethnic groups who have been exposed to different varieties of SAfE is a recent development, which is bound to have an impact on the variety in the future. The changes and conservations evoked by this development will be monitored with keen interest.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM.

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Lanham, Leonard W. 1967 The Way We Speak. Pretoria, Van Schaik. 1982 English in South Africa. In: Bailey and Görlach (eds.), 324–352. 1996 A history of English in South Africa. In: de Klerk (ed.), 19–34. Lass, Roger 2002 South African English. In: Mesthrie (ed.), 104–126. Lass, Roger and Susan Wright 1986 Endogeny vs contact: “Afrikaans influence” on South African English. English World-Wide 7: 201–223. Trudgill, Peter and Jean Hannah 1994 International English: A Guide to the Varieties of Standard English. London: Edward Arnold. (3rd ed.) Watermeyer, Susan 1996 Afrikaans English. In: de Klerk (ed.), 99–124.

Black South African English: phonology* Bertus van Rooy

1.

Introduction

There is little doubt that an African variety of English is very much part of the communicative economy of the new South Africa (for which I shall use the label Black South African English, in short BlSAfE). Since 1994, the year that ushered in a new democratic order, this variety has become prominent in parliament, administration, the media and so forth. Whereas the segregative and oppressive practices of apartheid had led to the development of a relatively homogenous second language variety, BlSAfE is today becoming slightly more diffuse. This reflects a new diversity of lifestyles, educational and cultural mixing, which sees English not only as the main language of a multilingual Black elite, but even making inroads into some homes. For some children English has become the first language. The hope persists in some quarters of South Africa that Black students should ideally have command over their first language and a variety of English that was more-or-less standard in grammar and not too deviant in accent/intonation from the southern British norms that have hitherto prevailed in broadcasting. Where the ideal fails (and it does for almost all but those educated in latter-day multi-racial or private schools in which Black pupils are in a minority), the educational system is held to blame (rightly in some instances). From studies of English elsewhere, however, we are also aware that even where the educational system is reasonably sound and on the side of the pupil (which was seldom the case in the Bantu education system of apartheid South Africa) an indigenised (or nativised) form of English is likely to develop. Whilst such a variety may not have a fully acknowledged status in its country of origin, it is more or less acceptable even in informal educational contexts. Research on BlSAfE has understandably had a predominantly pedagogical bias. One approach involves an older prescriptivism which sought to pinpoint the distortions that English teachers ‘suffered’ in their L2 pupils, often attributing it to ‘interference’ from the mother tongues. Another trend which was motivated by developmental perspectives aimed at producing educational materials for different levels of schooling, focused more on written discourse than an already existing grammar of Black English. A third trend that has become prominent is one that aims at describing the grammar of Black English, partly by presenting its departures from standard English and by exploring the historical and cultural influences on the development of this new variety.

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With the exception of work by Hundleby (1963) in the Eastern Cape, the phonology of BlSAfE has not been studied in any depth until recently. There have been a few publications examining aspects of BlSAfE pronunciation in the 1980s and 1990s (see bibliography on CD). A systematic attempt to study this variety has been initiated by Daan Wissing with a workshop on BlSAfE in January 2000 (proceedings circulated among the about 70 participants at the workshop), and subsequent publication of a volume of articles in Supplement 38 of the South African Journal of Linguistics, with five papers examining aspects of the pronunciation of BlSAfE (including Van Rooy 2000; Van Rooy and Van Huyssteen 2000; Van der Pas, Wissing and Zonneveld 2000). Subsequent work includes Van Rooy (2002) on stress placement, and Wissing (2002) who examined vowel perception and evaluated claims about differences in the pronunciation of speakers with different native languages. The research on BlSAfE offers a picture that is very similar to work done on varieties of African English elsewhere on the continent. Vowel contrasts characteristic of the native varieties of English are reduced by neutralisation of the tense/lax contrast and the avoidance of central vowels, particularly schwa. Consonants are realised largely similar to native varieties, although consonant cluster simplification is observed in some cases. Stress placement is different from native varieties, the speech is syllable-timed rather than stress-timed and other prosodic aspects are also different, particularly in the more frequent occurrence of pragmatic emphasis, leading to a different intonation structure of spoken BlSAfE. One important caveat must be stated before examining the phonology of BlSAfE. In work within the World/New Englishes paradigm, it is customary to distinguish different varieties of outer circle Englishes. These different varieties are often labelled as basilect, mesolect and acrolect, although these constitute a continuum. In previous work, I have already adopted this classification system and will continue to use it here, focussing on the mesolectal form of BlSAfE, but contrasting it where possible with the acrolectal variety. The basilectal variety has not been researched sufficiently to allow any claims made about it. The mesolectal variety described in this article is spoken fluently by educated speakers, but because of salient features of pronunciation (like vowel mergers) and certain features of grammar it would not be judged as overtly prestigious by speakers of the variety or other South Africans. This chapter offers a survey of the phonological features of BlSAfE that have been established with some degree of certainty. In addition, to the extent that it is possible to distinguish between a mesolectal and acrolectal variety of BlSAfE, the different features of these two lects are outlined. Vowels are considered first, followed by consonants and selected suprasegmental features. I draw largely on my own previous research and that of my colleague Daan Wissing. In addition, I rely in a few cases on on-going, as yet unpublished data analyses of the speech of about forty speakers from the African Speech Technology database (www.ast.sun.

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ac.za) and detailed phonetic transcriptions, based on acoustic criteria, of informal spoken conversation of seven speakers from diverse mother tongue backgrounds, age groups and on different positions on the lectal continuum. The contribution of other researchers is reflected in the extended bibliography on the CD.

2.

Vowels

Like most other African varieties of English, BlSAfE is characterised by the absence of the tense/lax contrast and central vowels in the mesolectal variety. The typical realisations of vowels are represented in Table 1 below. The basis for the presentation in this table is the work of Van Rooy and Van Huyssteen (2000), but subsequent analyses were undertaken of data within the African Speech Technology project, particularly to refine the transcriptions of diphthongs. Table 1. The vowels of Black South African English (mesolect) – summary KIT

i

FLEECE

i

PRICE

√I

FOOT

u

GOOSE

u

CHOICE

çI

TRAP

E

DRESS

E

SQUARE

E

NURSE

E

THOUGHT

ç

NEAR

e

LOT

ç

FORCE

ç

GOAT

ç > çU

CLOTH

ç

NORTH

ç

CURE

o

STRUT

A_

START

A_

FACE

EI ~ eI > E

MOUTH

çU > o

About

E~´

commA

A_

BATH

A_

lettER

A_

PALM

A_

happY

I

horsES

i

The phonetic quality of the monophthongs, transcribed as tense vowels throughout, is in actual fact somewhat variable, and often a realisation that is intermediate between a tense and lax vowel is found. For instance, it is not uncommon to find that the vowel in both FLEECE and KIT are realised with a first formant value of 350Hz and second formant of just below 2000Hz by male speakers. Vowel length is variable. In terms of our current understanding, there is no systematic use of vowel length to distinguish between pairs like FLEECE and KIT, but lengthening may take place as cue for stress placement. Thus, length may perform a suprasegmental function, but it is not distinctive at phonemic level. Central vowels are realised as mid front vowels or as central low vowels. Typically, the tense vowel in NURSE is realised as [E]. A schwa in the final syllable of native varieties of SAfE, particularly if the syllable is open, is usually realised as a

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low vowel in BlSAfE, transcribed as [A_] in Table 1 above, but its phonetic quality ranges from slightly backed to slightly fronted. In the majority of all cases, the second formant value of this vowel is below 1500Hz for male voices, but seldom below 1300Hz. More variability is observed with the realisation of the vowel in the first syllable of About, and other unstressed vowels that do not occur in final syllables. Previous research (particularly Van Rooy and Van Huyssteen 2000, also see references there) suggests that in syllables other than open final syllables, the dominant allophone for native varieties’ schwa is [E], while the allophone [´] is also observed but with less frequency. An analysis of further data from the African Speech Technology databases suggests that the frequency of schwa might actually be higher, although distributed slightly differently than in native varieties of English, because of differences in stress placement between mesolect BlSAfE and other varieties, but the main finding remains that the forms [E] and [´] are the two variants in perhaps roughly equal distribution and by far the two most frequent forms in unstressed syllables. There also appears to be a preference for letter pronunciation, selecting the allophone [ç], in the case of items spelled with the letter ‘o’ in unstressed syllables, such as the second syllable of the word ‘opportunity’. Finally, while the examples analysed are not sufficient to allow a definite statement, there appears to be a tendency (80% or more of the analysed cases, but type frequency low in the corpus) to pronounce a lax [U] in final closed syllables between a labial obstruent in onset position and a final lateral [l], for example in the words ‘double’ or ‘careful’. In summary, there are essentially five contrastive vowel phonemes in mesolectal BlSAfE: /i/, /E/, /a/, /ç/ and /u/. Perception studies by Wissing (2002) confirm this phonemic structure of mesolect BlSAfE, and also indicate that there is very little difference between BlSAfE speakers with different native languages. The diphthongs are very often realised as monophthongs. Van Rooy and Van Huyssteen (2000) claim that more centralised acoustic values are used, but maintain that too little tongue movement (as judged by an analysis of movement in the first and second formant values) takes place to warrant transcription of these phones as diphthongs. Subsequent analysis of diphthongs in the African Speech Technology speech corpus reveals that a number of diphthongs are found, particularly in PRICE, CHOICE, FACE and MOUTH, and sometimes also in GOAT. These diphthongs are all rising diphthongs, and are realised as diphthongs in most varieties of English. The remainder of the diphthongs of SAfE, the centring diphthongs that occur in the words SQUARE, NEAR and CURE, are almost always realised as monophthongs in BlSAfE, but this happens in other varieties of English as well, notably many American English varieties. Since mesolectal forms of BlSAfE avoid central vowels otherwise, it is not surprising that these diphthong phonemes that have a central vowel as their offset target are realised by monophthong phones. One can conclude that there are six contrastive phonemes, additional to the five

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used for monophthongs, which are mainly used for the diphthongs of native varieties of SAfE: /√I/, /çI/, /aU/, /eI/, /e/ and /o/. Hundleby (1963) and others after him have claimed to observe the occurrence of vowel-glide-vowel sequences as realisations of the diphthongs in the speech of BlSAfE. While a small number of such cases were observed in the data, they account for less than 1% of the realisations of all the vowel types represented by diphthongs in SAfE, and less than 10% for any one of the separate vowel types. Also, there is no indication of a systematic use of vowel length to realise the diphthong phonemes, with no single diphthong having a long vowel allophone in more than 20% of all observed cases. As pointed out earlier, it is important to consider differences between the pronunciation of the acrolect and mesolect varieties of BlSAfE. Apart from Hundleby (1963), such differences have not received serious consideration. In the discussion to follow, I rely on results of my own on-going research into this variety. Table 2. The vowels of Black South African English (acrolect) – summary KIT

I>i

FLEECE

i>I

PRICE

√I > √

FOOT

U>u

GOOSE

U>u

CHOICE

çI

TRAP

E~Q

DRESS

E

SQUARE

E~e

NURSE

Œ~´>E

THOUGHT

ç

NEAR

e

LOT

ç~Å

FORCE

ç

GOAT

o ~ ç > ´U

CLOTH

ç~Å

NORTH

ç

CURE

/

STRUT

√ > A_

START

A_ ~ √

FACE

e ~ EI

commA

´

BATH

A_ ~ √

MOUTH

aU > ç

lettER

´

PALM

A_ ~ √

happY

I>i

horsES

I~´

About

´

A comparison between the mesolect and acrolect data suggests that the acrolect is closer to native varieties of SAfE in many respects, but at the same time, it is characterised by more variability rather than less. A particularly noteworthy property of the acrolect is the use of both tense and lax monophthong phonemes. In some cases, there is a degree of contrast between pairs such as KIT x FLEECE, LOT x NORTH and STRUT x START, but many exceptions are also observed. In the case of the pair FOOT x GOOSE, the lax allophone occurs far more frequently than the tense allophone, but no consistent contrast/opposition is maintained. Related to the use of lax vowels in the acrolect form is the use of central vowels, and most significantly, the schwa. Reduced vowels occur in the acrolect form of BlSAfE in ways very similar to native varieties of SAfE, and the low vowel phone as realisation of a native schwa has disappeared almost completely.

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In comparison to the five phonemes of the mesolect, /i/, /E/, /a/, /ç/ and /u/, the acrolect also uses /I/, /Œ/ and /√/ as phonemes, with /Q/ and /Å/ emerging as phonemes, although not with enough consistency to regard them as established phonemes yet. The diphthongs are perhaps the area where the acrolect and mesolect are more similar than other aspects of the vowel system. Lots of variation is observed in the speakers’ rendition of the phonemes represented by the words in Table 2. In general, variants of the same five diphthongs, the rising diphthongs, occur that also occur in the mesolect, while the centring diphthongs are realised as monophthongs in the acrolect as well. At the time of writing, I have insufficient evidence about the realisation of the vowel in cure to make any strong claims, but suspect that it will be realised as monophthong [o], similar to the mesolect. There are no further diphthong phonemes in the speech of the acrolect speakers, as compared to the mesolect speakers. One last comment must be made about the vowel pronunciation of BlSAfE. In white native varieties of SAfE, there is a unique vowel contrast, usually represented by the pair KIT vs. SIT. KIT is pronounced similar to major British varieties, but SIT is realised with a vowel quality closer to schwa, or at least a much more centralised variant of [I]. In the mesolectal variety of BlSAfE, both these words are realised by a high front vowel, but in the acrolect form, the contrast is sometimes maintained, with the allophones [I] and [´] both observed with roughly equal frequency. Thus, while not with the same consistency of native varieties of SAfE, acrolect BlSAfE has an emerging contrast between KIT and SIT too.

3.

Consonants

Hundleby (1963: 101) already claimed that the consonants of BlSAfE are more similar to native varieties of SAfE than the vowels, a claimed confirmed by most subsequent publications. The most important phonemes and allophones of mesolect and acrolect BlSAfE are presented in Table 3. Table 3. The consonants of Black South African English Phoneme

Mesolect allophones

Acrolect allophones

/p/

[p, ph]

[p, ph]

/t/

[t, th]

[t, th]

/k/

[k, kh]

[k, kh]

/b/

[b, b8]

[b, b8]

/d/

[d, d8]

[d, d8]

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Table 3. (continued) The consonants of Black South African English Phoneme

Mesolect allophones

Acrolect allophones

/g/

[g,]

[, ]

/f/

[f]

[f]

/T/

[t] > [T]

[T]

/s/

[s]

[s]

/S/

[S] ~ [s]

[S]

/v/

[v]

[v]

/D/

[d]

[D] > [d]

/z/

[z]

[z]

//

[s] > [z]

[]

/tS/

[S]

[S] ~ [tS]

/d/

[d] ~ []

[d] > [S] ~ []

/m/

[m]

[m]

/n/

[n]

[n]

//

[]

[]

/l/

[l]

[l]

/r/

[r]

[r] ~ [®]

/h/

[˙]

[h] > [˙]

/w/

[w]

[w]

/j/

[j]

[j]

Plosives in BlSAfE are similar to native varieties of SAfE in respect of manner and place of articulation. Final devoicing takes place very consistently, while regressive voicing assimilation is observed in the speech of Tswana speakers, but it is not certain if this is true for all BlSAfE speakers and has not been researched yet. A slightly more widespread distribution of word initial devoicing of [] has been reported and observed in some of my data, but it is not a consistent phenomenon, and there is no suggestion of the neutralisation of the voicing contrast between the phonemes /k/ and /g/. In the acrolect form, most of these features are maintained, so there is little difference between the two varieties of BlSAfE in this respect. Aspiration occurs regularly, and is phonemic in all the Southern Bantu languages. In the mesolect, aspiration is present in slightly more than half of the syllable-initial plosive onsets (excluding those followed by sonorants before the nucleus vowel), while this increases to about three quarters in the acrolect. Some

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aspiration is also observed in other positions, but usually in less than a quarter of all cases (see Van Rooy 2000 on the mesolect). The dental fricatives /T, D/ in mesolectal BlSAfE are usually realised as plosives, with both dental and alveolar articulations observed, but nothing further back towards the post-alveolar place of articulation, whereas in the acrolect two thirds or more of these phonemes are realised as fricatives, with some inter-speaker variation. The palatal fricatives /S, / tend to become alveolar [s, z], particularly in the case of the voiced //, while the acrolectal speakers again approximate the phonetic quality of the native varieties of SAfE more closely. In the case of all these fricatives, the voiceless /T/ and /S/ are more likely to be realised as fricatives, while the voiced /D/ and // are more likely realised as plosives. Final devoicing also affects fricatives consistently in the acrolect and mesolect. The affricates /tS, d/ show lots of variation in the mesolect and the acrolect. In the mesolect, the voiceless /tS/ is realised as fricative [S] in most cases, while /d/ is realised by at least five different allophones, including [d] and [S] each occurring in about one third of the observed cases. In the acrolect, the allophones [tS] and [d] occur in about half of all cases, with the fricative variants [S] and [] being observed in most other cases. The sonorants are generally very similar to native varieties of SAfE. The nasals show little if any difference, while the liquid /l/ has some co-articulatory velarisation in the environment of back vowels, but perhaps less so than in native varieties of SAfE. The rhotic /r/ is generally realised by a trilled [r] in the mesolect, and this remains the case in just more than half of all observed cases in the acrolect, although the approximant [®] is observed in the remainder of the cases. The glottal sound /h/ is usually realised as a voiced [˙] in the mesolect, but the acrolect is characterised by a voiceless [h] in the majority of cases. The other two glides, /j/ and /w/ are very similar in BlSAfE and native varieties of SAfE (cf. Van Rooy 2000).

4.

Suprasegmental structure

Two aspects of suprasegmental structure have been examined in some detail. Van Rooy (2000) presents an analysis of syllable structure restrictions in the mesolect, and Van der Pas, Wissing and Zonneveld (2000), and Van Rooy (2002) analyse stress placement in the mesolect. Very little is known about the acrolect, and it will therefore not be discussed here. The Bantu languages generally do not allow consonant clusters in the onsets of syllables, and do not allow syllable codas. BlSAfE is clearly not bound by the syllable structure constraints of the Bantu languages. Van Rooy (2000) indicates that onset clusters in BlSAfE are generally no different from other varieties of SAfE. More recent data analysis suggests that the rhotic phoneme /r/ is under

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pressure to delete in onset clusters, particularly in spontaneous speech as opposed to read speech. Some simplification occurs in the codas, particularly where more than one obstruent is present in the same coda. In cases such as perfect or eats, a plosive is likely to be deleted. Faithful realisation of two underlying obstruents in syllable codas occurs in less than a third of all observed cases, but it is uncertain if other varieties of English in South Africa are not perhaps subject to similar simplification – the relevant comparative data have not been examined to the best of my knowledge. Previous work on stress in BlSAfE offers very little conclusive analysis or interpretation. Generally, researchers claim that stress in BlSAfE is different from native varieties of SAfE and present examples of such differences. Interpretation is often restricted to the claim that the penultimate lengthening phenomenon of the Bantu languages is transferred to BlSAfE. Van Rooy (2002) examines a small corpus of data from mesolect speakers and concludes that there is indeed a highly systematic system for stress placement in the mesolect BlSAfE. A very salient property is the syllable-timed rhythm of BlSAfE, as opposed to the stress-timed rhythm of most native varieties (Wissing, Gustafson and Coetzee 2000). Consequently, Van Rooy (2002) argues that there is no organisation of syllables into metrical feet in BlSAfE. Stress assignment is on the second last syllable, e.g. sevénty, except when the final syllable is superheavy, i.e. it has a tensed vowel (usually a diphthong) and coda consonant, e.g. campáígn or any vowel and a consonant cluster in the coda, e.g. contrást. In such cases, stress is assigned to the final syllable. In older research, a few relevant observations are made about other aspects of prosodic structure in BlSAfE. Gennrich-de Lisle (1985) claims that tone/information units in BlSAfE are shorter than in native varieties of SAfE; there are consequently more syllables and words that receive semantic stress than in native varieties of SAfE. Furthermore, they identify a general lowering of pitch through the course of a sentence, combined with a weakening of the intensity. No recent work has been done on these properties, and too little is known about the acrolect to judge whether this is also true for the acrolect. *

Part of the introduction was originally prepared by R. Mesthrie in connection with the companion piece on BlSAfE syntax. I wish to acknowledge my colleague Daan Wissing for his contribution to my research and this article.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM

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Gennrich-de Lisle, Daniela 1985 Theme in conversational discourse: Problems experienced by speakers of Black South African English, with particular reference to the role of prosody in conversational synchrony. M.A. thesis, Department of Linguistics, Rhodes University. Hundleby, C. E. 1963 Xhosa-English pronunciation in the south-east Cape. Ph.D. thesis, Rhodes University. Van der Pas, Brigit, Daan Wissing and Wim Zonneveld 2000 Parameter resetting in metrical phonology: the case of Setswana and English. South African Journal of Linguistics Supplement 38: 55–87. Van Rooy, Bertus 2000 The consonants of BSAE: current knowledge and future prospects. South African Journal of Linguistics Supplement 38: 35–54. 2002 Stress placement in Tswana English: the makings of a coherent system. World Englishes 21: 145–160. Van Rooy, Bertus and Gerhard B. van Huyssteen 2000 The vowels of BSAE: current knowledge and future prospects. South African Journal of Linguistics Supplement 38: 15–33. Wissing, Daan 2002 Black South African English: a new English? Observations from a phonetic viewpoint. World Englishes 21: 129–144. Wissing, Daan, Kjell Gustafson and Andries Coetzee 2000 Temporal organisation in some varieties of South African English: Syllable compression effects in different types of foot structures. In: Daan Wissing (ed.), Proceedings of the Workshop on Black South African English, 59–68. Linguistics Society of Southern Africa Conference, Cape Town, 12–14 January 2000.

Indian South African English: phonology Rajend Mesthrie

1.

Introduction

South African Indian English (henceforth InSAfE) is worthy of the attention of sociolinguists for a variety of reasons. It offers the opportunity of examining in a relatively fossilised form (on account of former rigid segregative tendencies in South Africa) the evolution of a dialect of English under less than perfect conditions concerning educational and social contact with target-language speakers. It provides, again in a relatively fossilised form, the opportunity of studying the changes a language undergoes as it shifts from L2 to L1. Indian languages have existed in large numbers in South Africa, chiefly in the province of Natal (now KwaZulu-Natal), since 1860. Their existence in this country is ultimately a consequence of the abolition of slavery in the European colonies. Colonial planters in many parts of the world looked to migrant labour from Asian countries to fill the gap caused by the understandable reluctance of slaves to remain on the plantations once they were legally free. The British-administered Indian government permitted the recruiting of labourers to a variety of colonial territories. This resulted in a great movement of hundreds of thousands of Indian labourers first to Mauritius (1834), then British Guyana (1838), Jamaica and Trinidad (1844), and subsequently to various other West Indian islands, Natal, Suriname and Fiji. Although Natal was a new colony that had not employed slave labour, the policy of consigning the indigenous, mainly Zulu-speaking population into `reserves’ created a demand for Indian labour on the sugar, tea and coffee plantations. Just over 150 000 workers came to Natal on indentured contracts between 1860 and 1911. A large majority chose to stay on in South Africa on expiry of their five or ten year contracts. The languages spoken by the indentured workers were as follows: (a) From the South of India chiefly Tamil and Telugu, and in small numbers – Malayalam and Kannada. The latter two languages did not have sufficiently large numbers of speakers to survive beyond a generation in South Africa. (b) From the north of India a variety of Indo-European languages including Bhojpuri, Awadhi, Magahi, Kanauji, Bengali, Rajasthani, Braj, etc. These dialects coalesced to form one South African vernacular, usually termed ‘Hindi’. (c) A small number of Muslims amongst the indentured labourers (about 10% among North Indians and slightly fewer amongst South Indians) would have spoken the village language of their area as well as varieties of Urdu.

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From 1875 onwards smaller numbers of Indians of trading background arrived in Natal, establishing languages like Gujarati, Konkani and Meman which are still spoken today in South Africa. In addition to these spoken languages people of Hindu background used Sanskrit as their prestige religious language, while Muslims looked to Arabic for this purpose. The sociolinguistic milieu in which Indians found themselves was a particularly complex one. Not only did they lack a knowledge of English and Zulu, but they would not always have been able to converse amongst themselves. In particular people from the north, speaking Indo-European languages, would not have been able to understand people from the south who spoke Dravidian languages. Furthermore only about 2% of incoming Indians had a knowledge of English (these would have been Christian Indians, some of whom had been recruited as teachers or a small proportion of the trading-class Indians). Under these circumstances a pidgin English might have arisen, but for the prior existence of a Zulu-based pidgin, Fanakalo. The learning of English was a relatively gradual process (see Mesthrie 1992: 11-33), though Gandhi mentions the use of English by some urban youths amongst themselves, in a newspaper article of 1909 – i.e. before the end of the period of indenture. Multilingualism and the lack of a lingua franca of Indian origin resulted in a shift to English (not without regrets and resistance) by the 1960s, when English started to be introduced as a language of the home. The period of language shift can be thought of as gradual or rapid, depending on one’s defining criteria. As 1960 was exactly one hundred years since the first immigrations, the period of shift might seem a gradual one; but as 1960 was also less than fifty years since the last shipload, the period is perhaps not all that gradual. The kind of English that stabilised was, as I have already indicated, a very special one, given that the policy of apartheid (1948-1991) kept Indian children away from first-language speakers of English descent, in hospitals, homes, neighbourhoods, public facilities, schools, and even universities. The result is that whilst being quite South African in some respects (aspects of lexis and phonology), it is a recognisably different variety of South African English. The peculiarities of apartheid society have ensured that there is continuity between IndE and InSAfE (in aspects of pronunciation, lexis and syntax). The relationship between the two varieties is not straightforward, however. Some of the early input into InSAfE was indeed directly from India, but of a diverse nature. This included: (a) the first generation of clerks, interpreters and teachers brought over in small numbers, (b) indentured workers of Christian background, mainly from South India, (c) some traders from India with a previous knowledge of English and (d) political leaders from India (e.g. Gandhi, Sastri, Gokhale). But given the fact that most first generation immigrants did not learn English we should be careful not to overestimate the links between IndE and InSAfE. Although the second and third generations learnt English without direct contact with India, conditions of acquisition and teaching were such that there was considerable transfer from the Indian languages. This

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was a factor that ensured further continuity between InSAfE and IndE. However, in South Africa the substrate comprised of both Indic and Dravidian languages, causing a blend of Indic and Dravidian influence in InSAfE that I suspect is not found in India. And, of course, the features of L1 English of Natal as well as contact with Zulu and (to a small extent) Afrikaans made InSAfE further diverge from IndE. InSAfE uses a great many words of Indian origin and a great many neologisms from other sources (see Mesthrie 1992b, a lexicon comprising about 1400 of such items). Only a few of these have passed into the wider society. These tend to be terms pertaining to vegetables (e.g. dhania ‘coriander’) and culinary terms (e.g. masala ‘ground spices’, roti ‘flat, round unleavened bread’, bunny chow ‘half a loaf of bread stuffed with curry’).

2.

Segmental phonology

InSAfE has been studied mostly as a contact variety that involves a great deal of syntactic variation. If less attention has been paid to its phonetics, it has to do with the paucity of researchers working on the accents of varieties of South African English (SAfE) rather than any intrinsic qualities of InSAfE phonetics. On the contrary, InSAfE holds the promise of subtle variations along the following dimensions: (a) Five substrate languages belonging to two distinct language families: Dravidian (Tamil, Telugu) and Indo-European (Bhojpuri-Hindi, Gujarati, Urdu, Konkani and Sindhi/Meman dialect); (b) Links with IndE (the English of India); (c) Links with South African varieties of English, especially varieties spoken in KwaZulu-Natal; (d) Emergence of a core InSAfE phonology as younger speakers lose contact with the languages of their grandparents’ generation; (e) Ongoing acculturation amongst middle-class speakers to “General” and “Cultivated” varieties of SAfE as the rigid barriers between young people of different backgrounds weaken, especially in the post-apartheid schoolgrounds; (f) Regional variation within InSAfE, involving the main dialect in KwaZulu-Natal and smaller pockets in other provinces – Gauteng, Eastern Cape and Western Cape. The description below is based on my analysis of a cross section of tape recordings carried out in the mid-1980s, reported in Mesthrie (1992: 34-43) for fieldwork, (1992:136-141) for phonetics. These have been supplemented by more recent recordings in the late 1990s and early 2000s. In addition I rely on earlier discussions by Bailey (c 1985, unpublished notes), Naidoo (1971) and Bughwan (1970).

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Table 1. The vowels of Indian South African English (mesolect) – summary KIT FOOT TRAP NURSE LOT CLOTH STRUT commA lettER happY

2.1.

ї>I>F_ U>F E>Q Œ˘>e˘ Å>ç˘ Å √ A˘ E i˘

FLEECE GOOSE DRESS THOUGHT FORCE NORTH START BATH PALM horsES

i˘ u˘>u˘ e>e_ >E_ ç˘>Å ç˘>Å ç˘>Å A˘ A˘ A˘ ´

PRICE CHOICE SQUARE NEAR GOAT CURE FACE MOUTH

aI çI e˘ ijE>I´ oU jç˘ eI aU

About

E>a

The short monophthongs

1. KIT: As with general SAfE, InSAfE shows a ‘KIT-split’. That is, the value before or after velar and glottal consonants is [] (as in kit, big, sing, hit, sick, give). The most common realisation in other contexts is a centralised vowel [] (as in bit, fit, sit, bin, etc.). Further retraction before /l/ as in bill, kill, will to [] or [] is possible. 2. DRESS: The usual realisation of this vowel is [e] or a slightly centralised [ё], which differs from raised equivalents in general SAfE and [] in varieties of British and American English. Before /l/ the latter ([]) does occur with some centralising, as in bell, sell, etc. 3. TRAP: The usual realisation of this vowel is a lowered [] or raised [æ]. In this regard it differs from raised equivalents like [e] in broad SAfE or fully lowered equivalents like [æ] in RP and general American English. 4. FOOT: The usual realisation in InSAfE is a weakly-rounded back [
]. An unrounded, lowered variant [] may also occur. Centralising of the vowel, which is an increasing feature of varieties of L1 English world-wide, is not associated with core InSAfE. However, younger speakers in contact with general SAfE may show this feature in certain non-vernacular styles. 5. STRUT: The usual realisation is [], which is a low back vowel. Although some centralisation is possible within the InSAfE spectrum it is never as fronted as younger, general SAfE centralised [+]. Allophones are more retracted before velars, as in duck and rug, which have []. 6. LOT: The usual realisation is [ ], a weakly-rounded back vowel. The unrounding and centralising that one finds among younger, general SAfE speakers, is

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not an option in InSAfE. There is some sharing between elements of the LOT and CAUGHT sets among older InSAfE speakers. In vernacular styles the following may be lengthened to [ç]: lot, coffee, pond, pod, boss, salt. Before nasals there is an age-graded difference in the treatment of the LOT vowel. Some older speakers have [] in words like comment, condemn, nonwhites. This is probably an inheritance from IndE, as speakers attempted an approximation of schwa. Younger InSAfE speakers generally produce [ ] here, though non- allows [ ] or [ç]. Related words like tomato and connect are discussed under schwa (section 2.4). 2.2.

The long monophthongs

7. NURSE: The most usual variant is [ ], a mid-central, unrounded vowel, slightly closer than RP [ ]. A variant amongst middle-class, and mostly female speakers, is similar to RP [ ], but possibly overshooting this target to a slightly fronted and lowered equivalent. Older speakers of an Indo-European background (chiefly Bhojpuri-Hindi and Urdu) use [] or [e] here. The rounding of the NURSE vowel that one finds in some varieties of SAfE does not occur in InSAfE. 8. FLEECE: The FLEECE vowel is uniformly [i] as in all L1 varieties of SAfE. 9. GOOSE: This vowel tends to retain a back, rounded quality [u]; the centralised and weakly-rounded quality [u] spreading in young peoples' L1 English worldwide is not generally part of InSAfE. Younger InSAfE speakers may well have the latter [u] as a stylistic option. After palatalised consonants as in few, news the centralised [u] is the norm. 10. PALM: [] is a low back, unrounded vowel. It is neither as back as its equivalent in broad SAfE nor subject to raising or rounding. 11. THOUGHT: The usual vowel in InSAfE is [ç], a half-open, weakly-rounded, back vowel. For some speakers raising to [o] occurs in formal styles, under influence of general SAfE. A less prestigious variant involves shortening to [ ] in words like taught (vernacular form [t t], shorts [ ts], caught [k t], north [n t ]). There is thus a fair amount of overlap in the membership of the sets LOT and THOUGHT (see 6 above in section 2.1). After /w/ in words like war, warm, water the usual vowel is [], not the raised and rounded [ç] of general SAfE, RP, and other varieties. 12. START: Postvocalic /r/ is not pronounced in InSAfE, the only exception being the letter r itself, which is pronounced [r] with a weak trill. The usual vowel here is [].

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13. NORTH: The usual vowel here is [ç], which is a half-open, weakly-rounded, back vowel. Raising to [o] does not occur, except as a prestige variant for some speakers in formal styles. A less prestigious variant involves shortening to [ ] in words like taught, shorts, caught, north (see 11 above). 14. FORCE: FORCE behaves the same as NORTH. That is the usual vowel is [ç], with [o] a prestige variant in formal styles. A less prestigious variant involves shortening to [ ] in words like sports, horse, orphan. 2.3.

The diphthongs

15. FACE: The only realisation is [e]. The first element tends to be short, as is the [] glide. In this regard InSAfE differs from varieties of SAfE which involve varying degrees of lowering, with centralising of the [e]. 16. GOAT: The usual diphthong here is [o
] with a weakly-rounded first element. For some speakers the glide [
] is short, resulting in [o
] as a variant. However, monophthongal [o], as in varieties of northern British English, is rare. The range of the initial element /o/ ranges from back to central-back, but does not approach fully-central or fronted or lowered variants found in other varieties of SAfE. 17. PRICE: The usual variant here is [a], with degrees of centralising of the [a]. The glide element [] is not weakened in contrast to other varieties of SAfE, including local prestige 'white' varieties in KwaZulu-Natal, in which a tendency towards monophthongisation exists. 18. CHOICE: The usual variant here is [ç], with half-open [ç]. Closer variants involving [o] may be used by some speakers in formal public styles, in response to the greater prestige of this variant within general SAfE. 19. MOUTH: The usual variant is [
], with fronter pronunciations of the first element in the direction of [a] also possible. The gliding element [
] is not weakened, unlike general SAfE, where a tendency towards monophthongisation is present. 20. NEAR: The usual pronunciation of this diphthong is [ij], that is a long [i] and a fairly open [] are spread over two syllables with an intervening glide [j]; thus [fij] 'fear', [t ij] 'cheer', etc. However, [] surfaces in polysyllabic words like fearsome [fsm], and cheerful [t fl']. 21. SQUARE: This diphthong is usually reduced to the long monophthong [e] as in general SAfE. The [e] is slightly retracted in InSAfE. The RP equivalent [ ] is associated with 'Speech and Drama' accents, and is not aimed at by InSAfE speakers outside the acting world.

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Some speakers exhibit considerable overlap between the NURSE and SQUARE vowels, i.e. between [ ] and [e]. A cross-over is sometimes heard between pairs like fur-fair, with [e] – [ ] respectively, rather than the expected reverse pattern of other varieties. Likewise hair and parents may each waver between centralised [e] and [ ]. 2.4.

Other vowels

22. CURE: This is a mixed bag in InSAfE, as in SAfE generally. Cure and pure have [jç]; sure has [ç]; poor and tour have [
]; while plural and jury have [u]. 23. happY: This class takes a half-lengthened /i/ i.e. [i0] 24. lettER: The norm for final schwa in InSAfE is //, a half-open to open vowel. It is subject to style-shifting, with middle-class speakers producing [] in formal styles. 25. horsES: The usual vowel here is []. 26. commA: Words spelt with final a - sofa, zebra, comma – typically take a halflengthened //, i.e. []. Bailey notes a minimal pair mynah–miner having [:] and [] respectively in InSAfE. 28. About: The usual vowel here is /æ/ ranging from [] to [a]. Schwa occurs in non-vernacular contexts. Schwa is absent in some words like tomato and connect. The first vowel in tomato is [] for older speakers. ([t*matou]); and [] or [ ] for younger speakers. For connect the first vowel is generally unreduced [k *nekt]. 2.5.

Stops

P, T, K have aspiration patterns that differ from the prototypical English patterns of aspiration. As this is a complex issue, it is discussed under ‘current research’ below. There is not much to be said about B, D, G as a set. T, D however, are subject to variation. The usual variants are alveolar [t] and [d]. However, retroflex variants are still heard, though this feature is recessive in InSAfE, and not the prominent characteristic it is in IndE. Furthermore, the degree of retroflexion (curling of the tongue tip to strike the palate) is not as strong in InSAfE. Retroflex // and // are far outnumbered by their alveolar equivalents and there are no contrasts made between [t] and [] or between [d] and []. They are stylistic variants: the more 'public' or 'formal' the speech, the less retroflexion; the more vernacular the context and emphatic the utterance, the greater the likelihood of some retroflexion. Thus

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die might ordinarily have alveolar [d] but in emphatic (vernacular) utterance, Go and die!, the chances of a retroflex [] increase. 2.6.

Nasals

M, N, and // are unremarkable, except for the occasional retroflexion of N, under the same conditions as for T and D. It is more likely to be retroflexed homorganically with // and //, rather than on its own. Thus send may appear as [se] and aunty as [i] in certain styles, but sin and sun do not have retroflex []. 2.7.

Fricatives

F and V are realised more as approximants [
] and [
], rather than as fricatives; i.e. contact between the lower lip and upper teeth is made without the audible friction that one finds in RP or SAfE. The v/w overlap that one finds in IndE is rare and recessive in InSAfE; only some older speakers say things like wamit [*wm*t] for vomit. // and // are regularly realised as dental stops /t / and /d /, thus theme = [tim], weather = [wed ] and then = [d en]. An interesting set of substitution of dental [t] for the alveolar stop [t] concerns words dealing with the mouth cavity: tooth, teeth, tongue, tonsil all have an initial dental stop, making a set with throat. Likewise, though teach has initial [t], taught has initial dental [t], possibly a dissimilation from the final [t] or based on an analogy with thought. /s/ and /z/ are regular alveolar fricatives. Likewise there is little significant difference between / /, //, /t / and /d/ in InSAfE and general SAfE. Combinations of /t/ or /d/ with /j/ may be realised as [t ] and [d], thus tune = [t un] and deuce = [dus] for some speakers. /h/ has several realisations, depending on speakers' language and social class backgrounds. People of North Indian origin usually produce a voiced fricative [] or a murmured (breathy-voiced) fricative []. People of South Indian background, especially Tamil, tend to produce what is popularly seen as H-dropping. That is H is realised as either a glottal construction (with discernible rise in pitch of a following vowel), or as a weak murmur on a following vowel. Within the InSAfE community H-dropping is a stereotype associated mainly with Tamil speakers. Some speakers of this group may even produce hypercorrections like hant for ‘ant’ and hout-’ouse for ‘out-house’. Occasionally speakers substitute a ‘euphonic’ [j] and [w] in place of h (yill, yad, liveliwood, for ‘hill’, ‘had’, ‘livelihood’). More generally some ‘euphonic’ [j] and [w] occurs amongst older speakers of Dravidian background as in yevery for ‘every’, but this is recessive in InSAfE. /l/ is reported to have 'light' (= non-velarised) allophones in place of dark (velarised) ones in words like ball. (Bughwan 1970). This feature has not been studied to ascertain if there have been more recent changes. As far as /r/ is concerned,

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InSAfE is non-rhotic (in strong contrast to IndE); the only exception being the pronunciation of the letter r itself as [r], as in all SAfE varieties. /r/ varies between an approximant or obstruent [r], depending on linguistic context and speaker variables. In clusters it is usually a rolled r as in trap, drake, break. In initial position it is either an approximant or a roll. Linking and intrusive /r/ are uncommon, since [] is used instead. Thus far out is likely to be pronounced as [f a
t] rather than [fr a
t]. This is generally true of SAfE.

3.

Suprasegmentals

It is still easy to deduce the linguistic background of older InSAfE speakers on the basis of an ‘articulatory setting’ that involves murmur or ‘breathy voice’ for people of North Indian descent and its absence amongst people of South Indian descent (especially Tamil speakers). This difference is slowly being levelled out amongst younger speakers. It is claimed that InSAfE is syllable- rather stresstimed, though this has yet to be researched objectively. Subjectively, the speech rate is deemed fast and the stress patterns fairly different from those of general SAfE. Furthermore sentence rhythm results in shortening of long vowels and even of short vowels. Although word stress approximates to that of SAfE there are instances of stress being postponed to a medial or final syllable, where SAfE (like RP) has word-initial stress. The InSAfE pattern is, accordingly, closer to that of Hiberno-English (Ó Sé 1986). Furthermore, it is a feature of all informal InSAfE speech. The following representative list of InSAfE words follows the IPA convention that the stress mark precedes the main-stressed syllable: accommo*date corp(o)*ration criti*cise exagge*rate re*gister

immi*grate immi*grating imi*tate in*dustry or*chestra

For further examples see Bughwan (1970: 256).

4.

Current research issues

The phonology of InSAfE is still open research territory. I shall concentrate on the possibilities offered by the study of aspiration. P, T, K have aspiration patterns that are different from the prototypical English patterns of aspiration in all initial positions. Detailed research has still to be undertaken, and a preliminary analysis suggests the following in vernacular mesolectal speech:

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P is always unaspirated before //, /ç/, /
/, / /, /e/, /o
/ and //. Thus park, pork, put, pot, pay, poke, pair all have unaspirated initial P. Likewise P is always unaspirated before /r/ and /l/, e.g. in pray and play. This means that /r/ and /l/ are voiced in InSAfE in contrast to many varieties of English in which the aspiration on initial consonants causes /r/ and /l/ to become voiceless. In all other contexts whether P is aspirated or not, depends on the particular word. Taking P before /e/ as an example, the following words always have aspiration – pen, pebble, pet; whereas penny, pepper, petal, peck are always unaspirated. It has still to be researched whether there is intra-speaker variability (i.e. pronouncing the same word differently) or variation across speakers. Speakers who produce aspiration invariantly with initial P, T, K would be judged as putting on a ‘Speech and Drama’ accent. The dialect has minimal pairs like pea and pee; piece and piss (pronounced [pis]). It also has near-minimal pairs like pet and petal, pen and pencil. Similar principles apply to T and K. The reason for this unusual system is twofold. Firstly it represents a shift from languages with differential patterns of aspiration towards the general English norm. The Indic languages have phonemic distinction between aspirated and unaspirated P, T, K. Speakers appear to be comfortable with the categorical absence of aspiration in some words and its categorical presence in others. On the other hand, as the Dravidian language, Tamil, does not have aspiration, its speakers have to adopt this feature afresh in their English. The InSAfE mesolect seems a happy compromise between the two systems: no aspiration before certain back vowels, certain diphthongs and both liquids; and in all other contexts aspiration is word-dependent. The actual minimal pairs are marginal: both pee and piss cited above are, in fact, taboo words, and therefore do not occur in the same register as pea and piece. The second reason for this unusual system is that it is probably a stage in the language acquisition-cum-lexical diffusion process. It is not hard to envisage a gradual shift to a system with aspiration for all initial P, T, K.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Bailey, R. c1985

South African Indian English Phonology. Unpublished notes. Department of Speech and Hearing Therapy, University of Durban-Westville.

Bughwan, D. 1970 An investigation into the use of English by the Indians in South Africa, with special reference to Natal. PhD thesis, University of South Africa.

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Mesthrie, R. 1992 English in Language Shift. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Naidoo, K. 1971 Some aspects of the phonetic deviations in the speech of Tamilians in Durban. Unpublished MA thesis, University of Natal. Ó Sé, D. 1986 Word-stress in Hiberno-English. In: J. Harris, D. Little and D. Singleton (eds.) Perspectives on the English Language in Iceland: Proceedings of the First Symposium on Hiberno-English. Dublin: Centre for Language and Communication Studies, Trinity College, pp. 97-107.

Cape Flats English: phonology* Peter Finn

1.

Introduction

Cape Flats English (CFE) originated in working class neighbourhoods in innercity Cape Town. However, as a result of Apartheid social engineering, most of its speakers now live far from the city centre in a number of adjoining areas collectively known as ‘The Cape Flats’. (The name refers to a large, flat, sandy expanse bordered by mountain ranges and the sea.) This variety of English is also sometimes called ‘Coloured English’ but that term is problematic for two reasons. Firstly, it is an over-generalisation: not all people who were classified as ‘Coloured’ during the Apartheid era speak this dialect since they are not homogenous with regard to region and social class. Secondly, the term ‘Coloured’ as a descriptor is not universally accepted by those to whom it has been applied. From the mid 19th century, it was used to refer to people of mixed Asian, African, and European ancestry. A hundred years later, it was assigned by the Apartheid government to people who did not fit its two major population categories: ‘European’ or ‘white’, and ‘Bantu’ or ’black’. It was thus a catch-all category for people who did not constitute a group on any intrinsic grounds of shared ethnicity, culture or region. For this reason ‘coloured identity’ is still a hotly debated concept. However, segregation did create some common ground which is of sociolinguistic significance because it minimised the possibility of intensive contact with speakers of other varieties of English. Members of each official population group were forced to spend most of their lives together in segregated residential areas, educational, leisure and other institutions. 1.1.

Historical and cultural background

Settlement in South Africa by English-speaking people started in the closing decade of the 18th century, when British forces occupied the Cape. In 1815, at the end of the Napoleonic Wars, the Cape was allocated to Britain by the Congress of Vienna. This put an end to one and a half centuries of control by the Dutch East India Company. By this time Cape Town was very cosmopolitan. Indigenous people did not constitute a large proportion of its inhabitants, having been decimated by smallpox or driven out of the area, or – as was the case for many hunter-gatherers – killed by settlers. Prior to the arrival of the British, the settlers were mainly of Dutch origin, but included people from other European countries. The large slave

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population was the most heterogeneous in the world, having been brought from Dahomey, Angola, Madagascar, Mozambique, Zanzibar, Oibo, various parts of India, Ceylon, the Malayan Peninusula and the Indonesian Archipelago (particularly Java, Sumatra, the Celebes, Macassar, Ternate and Timor). Most of the slaves’ languages did not survive beyond the first generation, Malay being a notable exception. Portuguese Creole and a Cape Dutch pidgin acted as lingua francas for slaves, but they all had to learn Dutch. In doing so, they contributed to the development of what is now known as Afrikaans, a language that has significant structural differences from Dutch. Slavery was abolished in 1834, almost two decades after the establishment of British colonial rule. In 1822 a policy of anglicization was instituted by Governor Charles Somerset. It was aimed at weakening the independence of those who had previously been dominant, namely the Dutch/Afrikaans-speaking slave-owning group, but obviously the policy also affected the rest of the people in the colony. Of the three domains subjected to anglicization – law, religion and education – it was in education that the policy had the greatest success. English was entrenched as a medium of instruction by the simple expedient of refusing state funding to schools that taught through the medium of any other language. A few private schools were established to provide education in Dutch, but they were unable to survive financially for more than two decades. Aided by grants from the state, Christian religious institutions took a major share of responsibility for primary and secondary education in the Cape Colony during the nineteenth century. In Cape Town most of the church schools and all the state schools taught through the medium of English, regardless of the fact that the home language of many learners was Afrikaans. The phasing out of socio-economic structures based on slavery did not result in an egalitarian society. There was stratification based on class and, increasingly, on colour though legally entrenched segregation started only in the 20th century. As is common, working-class areas were more multicultural and multilingual than middle-class areas. They were home to freed slaves and their descendants, to indigenous people (both local and from territories further north), and also to immigrants. In the early years of the colony, the majority of the immigrants were Englishspeaking. Later in the century, economic opportunities in South Africa created by the discovery of mineral wealth, coupled with events in Europe prompted the immigration of thousands of people from Eastern and Western Europe. Many of them started their South African life in the boarding houses and rented accommodation of inner-city neighbourhoods. One of these, District Six, included among its residents East European Jewish immigrants who spoke Yiddish, Russian and Polish, and read Hebrew; Muslim descendants of slaves and political exiles who understood Malay, read Arabic, but spoke Afrikaans as their home language; Christians – descendants of settlers and of slaves, and newer immigrants, whose languages included Afrikaans, English, Zulu, Xhosa, Sotho. Cape Flats English has its roots in these old, mixed residential areas where language contact was the order of the

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day, and where everyone needed to acquire some command of English if they had any dealings in the adjacent city centre or the middle-class suburbs to the south. The dialect spread to the Cape Flats as residents of the older suburbs moved to that area voluntarily or through the massive forced removals of the 1960s and 70s. Information on the areas of origin of 19th century English-speaking immigrants to Cape Town is sparse. Most of them did not come in the kind of organised immigration schemes used by settlers in the Eastern Cape or Natal, which provided documentation about background. Because British subjects could travel relatively freely in the Empire, if they came as individuals or in small privately organised groups, they did not have to fill in their particulars on immigration forms when they arrived in Cape Town. Thus there are no consolidated documentation bases to draw on in working out which dialects of English these immigrants would have spoken. Church and secular registers of marriages and births provide some clues, as do ships’ passenger lists, but as yet these have not been systematically followed up. Studies of the English of nineteenth century immigrants who settled in other parts of South Africa show non-standard British English dialect features which are also found in Cape Flats English (see Mesthrie and West 1995). Whatever their provenance, non-standard dialects of English spoken in Cape Town would have had an important role shaping the early form of what is now known as ‘Cape Flats English.’ Since the dominant language of the central business district was English, residents of the adjacent working-class neighbourhoods who wanted to engage with its resources had to learn some English, if it was not their home language. Adults mostly did this informally, picking it up from their neighbours who, if they were not also speakers of an L2 English, were more likely to speak a regional dialect of British or Irish English, than standard English. Children had more exposure to standard English from their teachers and text books. However, in the playgrounds they would have been more likely to have heard L2 English or regional dialects than standard English. This is because working-class children tended to go to what were called ‘mission schools’, which offered a practical curriculum and were for poorer children, while middle-class children attended ‘church schools’, which had an academic curriculum. Christian schools offered both secular and religious education. Madressahs and cheders offered only religious and related cultural Islamic and Jewish education, respectively. The former had taught through the medium of Malay until about the 1830s, when they started to use Afrikaans. They taught pupils to read Arabic. The latter used Yiddish and, later, English, and taught the reading of classical Hebrew. In 1905 racially-based segregation was introduced in Cape schools. This obviously affected the range of English varieties to which children were exposed in the classroom and the playground. In 1915 Afrikaans was recognised nationally as a viable medium of instruction, and a ‘mother-tongue’ policy was put on the statute books shortly thereafter. However, it was not strictly enforced, and in Cape Town

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most schools for coloured children continued to teach through the medium of English, regardless of the children’s home language. In the 1950s, when apartheid education policies forced the implementation of mother-tongue education, many of these schools had to change to Afrikaans as medium of instruction or at least add an Afrikaans stream. Being forced to use Afrikaans in this way was bitterly resented by coloured parents and teachers, some of whom circumvented the law by placing Afrikaansspeaking children into the English stream or into English schools. A very widespread belief developed among parents and children that children got a better education in English schools and classes than in the Afrikaans counterparts, and therefore would have better opportunities for further study and for employment. Separation by language was seen as contributing to the construction of social class division. (In neighbourhoods which wished to counter such division, one of the markers of solidarity was the used of a bilingual vernacular – see McCormick 2002.) A common thread in oral history interviews is the memory of playground division, with children from the Afrikaans and English classes not mixing with one another at all while at school because ‘the English children are snobbish’ or ‘the Afrikaans children are rough and wild’. Thus, the combination of government policy and social divisions meant that the generation who had their education through the medium of Afrikaans after 1950 had far less exposure to English than previous generations had had. As a result, by the nineteen seventies there were clear intergenerational differences with regard to proficiency in English in those working-class coloured families who spoke mainly a local dialect of Afrikaans at home and in the neighbourhood. The grandparents and great-grandparents had had all their schooling in English and were comfortable speaking it. Some had L1 proficiency. The parent generation had had little opportunity to use English outside the classroom and were less confident in the use of their L2 variety. As they did not want their children to have the same experience of what they saw as second-rate education, they raised their children in English so that they could go into English classes. Thus it was common that the input for the children’s L1 was an L2 variety of English. 1.2.

Previous research on CFE phonology

CFE is an under-researched variety overall, but especially in terms of phonology. The main earlier studies are referenced in the CD Rom accompanying this text. In terms of the phonological system as a whole, CFE (like SAfE) differs little from the reference variety, RP. As with mainstream South African English (SAfE, more specifically WSAfE), probably the only case where a difference in the overall system can be argued for is in the ‘KIT-Split’ (see below). As a type of South African English, CFE most closely resembles the lect of (typically) white SAfE most closely associated with the lowest socio-economic

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class (that is, the English of white working-class native speakers). This is the lect termed ‘Extreme SAfE’ by Lanham (1982), which in turn closely resembles the L2 English accent of white native speakers of Afrikaans (Afrikaans English, or AfkE). Wood (1987) argues that a similar dichotomy of lects can be set up for CFE itself, with ‘Extreme’ and ‘Respectable’ sub-lects characteristic of working-class and middle-class speakers respectively. I would argue (Finn [forthcoming]) that this dichotomy tends to correlate with whether or not speakers could be said to have CFE or CVA (Cape Vernacular Afrikaans) as L1, since L2 CFE speakers tend to be working-class and L1 speakers middle-class.

2.

Phonetic description – segmental features

2.1.

Vowels

Table 1.

The vowels of CFE according to Wells’ Lexical Sets

KIT

IT SIT

I1i ï

DRESS

e>E1Q

TRAP

E > Q > Qe

LOT

ç 1 Å > Å(˘)e

STRUT

a1å>√>Å ONE

a1å>Å

FOOT

u>¨>F

BATH

a 1 A > a˘(´) A˘(´) > Å˘(˘)´ DANCE

Q˘(´) > a˘(´) 1 A˘(´)

CLOTH

ç1Å

NURSE

Œ˘ > O (´) > å 1 Å˘´ 1 ´ > o˘

FLEECE

i˘1 i > i (˘) ´ 1 iU

FACE

Ei 1 e > ´i 1 åi 1 √i > E LAYER

eij

PALM

a 1 A > a˘(´) 1 A(´) > Å(˘)´

THOUGHT

ç 1 o˘ > o˘´

GOAT

åu 1 √u > [´u] > [çu] 1 [Åu] > [ou] 1 [au] GOAL

çU 1 oU > Å>

GOING

åuw

Cape Flats English: phonology Table 1. (continued)

The vowels of CFE according to Wells’ Lexical Sets u˘ > 2 > u > 2

GOOSE PRICE

BITE

3i > i 1 i > i 1 æi 1 i

BIDE

ai > i 1 i > a>´ >a˘

BYRE

aij

BILE

a>´ >a˘ çi 1 oi

CHOICE MOUTH

969

BOUT

3u > æu > u 1 u

BOWED

au > u u

BOWER

auw

BOWEL

a˘´

NEAR

i˘ 1 ˘ 1 ˘ e˘ 1 ˘> i3 > i 1 i

SQUARE

e˘ > e˘´ > E˘

START

a˘´ > ˘ 1 a˘Œ

NORTH/FORCE

o˘ 1 ç˘ > o˘(´) >

CURE

u 1 o˘ 1 ç˘

happY

i> 1 i˘ > i

lettER

1  1 3 > R

horsES



commA

3>

uncLE

41ç1o

Vowel retraction before /l/ This process is noted here in advance because it is a general, pervasive feature. Wood (1987: 127–128) maintains that such retraction occurs across the social scale, as in WSAfE, so it probably also has prestige value. However, an ‘iotacised’ subvariant (e.g. self [sjælf]), occurring in Wood’s and my own data, is stigmatised. KIT

CFE, like SAfE, evidences the (ongoing) ‘KIT-split’ (Lass 1995: 97; Wood 1987: 122–123), whereby KIT is realised as (a) [] ~ [i] initially, after /h/, in velar environments, and often before /
/ (the IT subset), while (b) and as centralised [+] elsewhere (the SIT subset). Lass notes that while ‘Respectable’ (= Educated) SAfE usually has IT = [] vs. SIT = [+]; Extreme SAfE (and AfkE) usually has IT = [ ] vs SIT = [+]. My data indicate that this general pattern is also true of CFE, except that the patterning IT = [i], SIT = [+] extends higher up the social scale than it does for SAfE – as confirmed by Wood (1987: 122), who notes that the ‘low schwa’ reali-

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sation of KIT occurs in the speech of both Extreme and Respectable CFE speakers (see also Hastings 1979, quoted in Wood 1987: 111). Also as with SAfE, before /l/ (= [l5]) KIT is typically realised as [6] (also [6( )], [ç]). DRESS

Predominantly ‘raised’ to [e] (as also Wood 1987: 122; Hastings 1979, quoted in Wood 1987: 111), but with some tendency for lowering towards []. Wood (1987: 123) also notes a tendency for [ ()] in certain contexts, e.g. yes. As with SAfE, realisations are affected by following /l/ (= [l5]), typically towards [æ ~ ] (e.g. self [sælf], often also with iotacisation). TRAP

As in Extreme SAfE and AfrikaansE (the English of White Afrikaans speakers), there is a marked tendency towards [] (as Wood 1987: 122, Hastings 1979, quoted in Wood 1987: 111), though [æ] and [æ ] do also occur. TRAP retains this value before /l/ in CFE and SAfE generally, this time in contrast to RP, where [ç˘] is usual. LOT

For L2 (and Extreme CFE) speakers typically [ç] ~ [ ], for L1 speakers more consistently [ ] (as Wood 1987: 122, Hastings 1979, quoted in Wood 1987: 111), although [ () ] also occurs. Wood (1987: 133) also notes the apparently consistent pronunciations want [wnt] and non- [nn]. LOT is not apparently affected by following /l/. STRUT

According to my own and Wood’s data (1987: 122), for L2 speakers typically [a] ~ [3], for L1 speakers more consistently [3] (sporadically also []). According to Wood, STRUT-lowering is not obviously stigmatised. STRUT is typically realised as [ ] before /l/ (as also Wood 1987: 128). In the subset ONE (comprising (-)one, once), realisations vary between L2 [a] and L1 [3, ]. FOOT

Very typically in the region of [u], i.e. with a marked degree of backing and rounding (though perhaps somewhat less so for L1 than L2 speakers). Also [2], [6]. Not apparently affected by following /l/. BATH/PALM

Typically [a] ~ [ ] (often [a( ) ~ ( )]), with some instances of [ () ]-type realisations. However, in the subset DANCE realisations are typically in the region of [æ( )] (as Wood 1987: 123); also [ ( )] ~ [ ( )]. Wood (1987: 137) claims DANCE Raising is typical of Extreme CFE speakers. CLOTH

See LOT. For L2 (and Extreme CFE) speakers typically [ç], for L1 speakers more consistently [ ].

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NURSE

There is a high degree of variability. Wood (1987) records mainly [], with some instances of [ ()]. My data (especially from L1 speakers) showed especially [ø( )], with some instances of [3], [  ] and [ ]. Before /l/, NURSE seems to be realised especially as [o]. FLEECE

Typically [i] in stressed position, [i] in unstressed position, for all speakers. Before /l/, FLEECE generally remains as [i] , but there is some tendency to ‘breaking’ (e.g. [i() ], [i()], as also Wood 1987: 128). FACE

According to my own and Wood’s (1987: 123) data, typically [i] for L2 speakers, [ei] for L1 speakers, though for all speakers there is also some tendency towards centralisation of the onset (nucleus), e.g. [ i], [3i], [i]. There is also some evidence for a Canadian Raising-type distribution, with front onsets tending to occur in pre-fortis environments and non-front onsets elsewhere (see GOAT). Wood (1987: 123) and Hastings (1979, quoted in Wood 1987: 111) also note (sporadic?) instances of glide weakening, e.g. take [tk]; Hastings claims diphthong offset weakening is typical of CFE. However, note also the typically markedly peripheral (i.e. strongly high front) offset; this is particularly noticeable in word-final position. According to Lanham (1982: 343), this ‘high diphthongal glide’ is characteristic of Afrikaans-influenced English generally, and used even by well-educated speakers – as confirmed in Wood’s (1987: 137–138) and my own data. In hiatus (as in the subset LAYER), this offset is typically realised as [j], e.g. [*l5eij30]. Realisations are not apparently affected by following /l/. THOUGHT

According to Wood (1987: 122), Extreme CFE speakers typically have [ç]. My data indicates realisations typically in the region of [o] for all speakers; [o ] is also frequent. Not apparently affected by following /l/. GOAT

Although there is a high degree of variability here, analysis of Wood’s (1987: 125ff) and my own data reveals that realisations are typically in the region of [3u] and [u], for all speakers; other realisations observed include [ u], [7u], [ u] fairly frequently, and less often [ou], [au]. There is also some evidence for a Canadian Raising-type distribution, with back onsets tending to occur in pre-fortis environments and non-back onsets elsewhere (see FACE). Despite the fact that Wood records some cases of offset weakening, e.g. [ç
], [o
], and Hastings (1979, quoted in Wood 1987: 111) maintains that diphthong weakening is typical of CFE, the available data would suggest that in fact such weakening occurs especially (a) before /l/ – where, in common with SAfE, onset quality is also affected, typically yielding [ >] (e.g. [*k 0l5d3>]) – and (b) in unstressed position (though see

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Non-Reduction, below). In fact, as with MOUTH, offsets of GOAT are typically markedly peripheral (i.e. strongly backed and rounded) rather than weakened (see also Wood 1987: 128). Yet again, Lanham (1982: 343) maintains that this ‘high diphthongal glide’ is characteristic of Afrikaans-influenced English generally, and used even by well-educated speakers – as confirmed in Wood’s (1987: 137–138) and my own data. It is particularly noticeable in word-final position. In hiatus (as in the subset GOING), the offset is typically realised as [w] (e.g. [*3uwi]). Wood (1987: 137–138) observes that both onset lowering and markedly backed and rounded offsets, are typical across the social scale. GOOSE

Several commentators (Hastings 1979, quoted in Wood 1987: 111; Wood 1987: 128; Lass 1995: 98–99) note that CFE (as well as South African Indian English; see Mesthrie 1995: 253) is to be distinguished from SAfE by typically having ‘oldfashioned’ (in SAfE terms) realisations for GOOSE, in the area of [u] – that is, with a marked degree of backing and rounding (as also for FOOT). This is especially noticeable in word-final position. Wood maintains that marked rounding (but not backing) is typical across the social scale, and Lass similarly claims that there is a strong tendency to avoid fronter values even in very standard registers. However, my data revealed that some (mainly L1) speakers do approximate to the more centralised SAfE norm, with [2]. Both types of realisation are typically shortened when unstressed, sometimes making them indistinguishable from FOOT. Realisations are not apparently affected by following /l/. PRICE

Wood (1987: 123–125, 135) notes two typical realisations of PRICE: (a) with raised onsets (e.g. [], [æ], [ ), and with low onsets and offset weakening (e.g. [a], [a]). He maintains that raised-onset variants are associated with Extreme CFE speakers, although also occurring further up the social scale, and are only found in CFE (since Extreme SAfE typically has low back onsets), while the low, glide-weakened variants are a defining variable of Respectable SAfE, and are associated with Respectable CFE also. Detailed research by Finn (in progress) has revealed that in fact, PRICE (along with MOUTH) is subject to a sub-phonemic Canadian Raising rule, whereby non-low onsets occur in pre-fortis environments and low ones elsewhere. Thus, typical realisations are BITE as [b3it] compared to BIDE and BUY as [baid8] and [bai] respectively (see full discussion below). Other pre-fortis realisations include [i] and [ i], while non-pre-fortis realisations include [ i] and [ i]. Note also that in fact, PRICE offsets are typically markedly peripheral rather than weakened (i.e. strongly fronted and raised); when reduction does occur it is typically in unstressed position, and especially for the high-frequency pronoun I. As in the case of FACE above, Lanham (1982: 343) maintains that ‘high diphthongal glides’ are characteristic of Afrikaans-influenced English generally, and used even by well-educated speakers – as confirmed in Wood’s (1987: 137–138) and my own data. It is particu-

Cape Flats English: phonology

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larly noticeable in word-final position. In hiatus (as in the subset FIRE), this offset is typically realised as [j], e.g. [ faij30]. Realisations are affected by a following /l/, with the offset being reduced (e.g. [a0 ], as in [t
a0 l1d8] child) or – less commonly – backed (e.g. [a], as in [t
a0l1d8] child; see Wood 1987: 128). CHOICE

Realisations are typically in the region of [çi], [oi]. The observations made above regarding markedly peripheral offsets as in PRICE and FACE generally apply to CHOICE also, although it is not apparently affected by following /l/. MOUTH

Wood (1987: 124–125) maintains that ‘raised’ (and often glide-weakened) onsets in MOUTH are typical of Extreme CFE speakers and are very common among L1 speakers, but would be avoided by those higher up the social scale, who usually use [a]. Hastings (1979, quoted in Wood 1987: 111) maintains that diphthong weakening is typical of CFE. However, detailed research by Finn (forthcoming) has revealed that in fact, MOUTH (like PRICE) is subject to a sub-phonemic Canadian Raising rule, whereby onsets are non-low in pre-fortis environments but low elsewhere. Thus, typical realisations are BOUT as [b3ut], [bæut] compared to BOWED and BOUGH as [baud8] and [bau] respectively (see full discussion below). Other non-low pre-fortis realisations include [u] and [ u], while other non-prefortis realisations include [ u] and [ u]. Also similarly to PRICE, offsets of MOUTH are in fact typically markedly peripheral (i.e. strongly backed and rounded) rather than weakened. Once again, Lanham (1982: 343) maintains that ‘high diphthongal glides’ are characteristic of Afrikaans-influenced English generally, and used even by well-educated speakers – as confirmed in Wood’s (1987: 137–138) and my own data. It is particularly noticeable in word-final position. When reduction does occur it is typically in unstressed position or before /l/ (e.g. [a0l5] owl). In hiatus (as in the subset POWER), the offset is typically realised as [w] (e.g. [*pauw30]). NEAR

My data reveals a usual realisation in the region of [i3], with [i] and [i ] also occurring. Wood (1987: 126), whose data reveals monophthongised variants, [i], [], [ ], [e] and [], maintains that such monophthongal realisations occur across the social scale. SQUARE

My data revealed a usual realisation of [e], with some cases of [e]. Wood (1987: 126) also notes [] and again maintains that such monophthongal realisations occur across the social scale. START

In my data START was typically realised as [a: ], with [ ] and [a ] also occurring. Wood (1987) notes only [ ].

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NORTH/FORCE

According to Wood (1987: 122), Extreme CFE speakers typically have [ç]. My data indicated realisations typically in the region of [o] ~ [ç], with some instances of [o( )], as well as [ ]. Shortening typically occurs when unstressed. CURE

Realisations typically vary between [ u] and [o] ~ [ç˘]. Wood (1987: 126) maintains that monophthongal realisations (especially in word-final position, e.g. in poor [pç˘]) occur across the social scale. happY Although Wood (1987) records only [i], my data revealed a tendency toward happY-lengthening, with [i>] or [i]. lettER Typical realisations in my data were [ ], [] (also in Wood 1987: 127), [3]. Wood also notes rhotic realisations for some L2 speakers, e.g. [ R]. horsES Typically [ ]. commA Typically [3], [ ]; however, realisations may be affected by following /l/, yielding [4], [ç], [o] (as also Wood 1987: 128). 2.2.

Consonants

Saffery (1986, apparently following Hastings 1979) notes the occurrence of ‘unreleased consonants’. However, Wood (1987: 112) notes that frequencies for these would appear to be low. 2.2.1. Obstruents (a) Variability According to Hastings (1979, quoted in Wood 1987: 111), in CFE there is typically sporadic “confusion” between /d/ ~ //, /s/ ~ /z/, /n/ ~ //, /9/ ~ /h/ and / /B~ /b/ (some of the latter occurred intervocalically in my own data, e.g. about [3*:t], available [3*:eil b6l5]). (b) Final devoicing Wood (1987: 132) maintains that a typical feature of Extreme CFE is devoicing of final /d/ and /z/ (e.g. eight hundred [itnd; d8], seconds [sek ndz8]). I would claim, on the basis of my own data, that CFE generally has a (variable) rule of final-obstruent devoicing (terminal devoicing), whereby all obstruents will tend to be voiceless

Cape Flats English: phonology

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(lenis) in syllable-final position (that is, final /b d  v  z / will typically be realised as [b d8 8 v8 8 z8 8]); see the discussion on Canadian Raising below. Additionally, in my data // and /d/ – phonemes not occurring in CVA – were often devoiced also in initial position. On devoicing in CFE see also Lanham (1982: 343). 2.2.2. Plosives According to Hastings (1979, quoted in Wood 1987: 111), in CFE there is ‘typically some extra pressure on plosive release’; there is also ‘slow release’ on some plosives. P, T, K According to Hastings (1979, quoted in Wood 1987: 111) de-aspiration of voiceless initial stops is typical of CFE; according to Saffery (1986, cited in Wood 1987: 112) there is variation between aspirated and de-aspirated initial stops. Deaspiration is also noted separately by Lanham (1982), and Wood (1987: 129, 137–138), who claims its use is more typical of Extreme CFE than Respectable CFE speakers. My own data evidenced both aspiration and de-aspiration, although L1 (= primarily more middle-class speakers) tended to aspirate in line with RP norms. T, D My own data indicate that /t/, /d/ are very typically realised as dental, i.e. [t], [d]. Consonant lengthening Wood (1987: 133) observes that continuants occurring before word-final voiced alveolar consonants may be lengthened, e.g. things [iz]. 2.2.3. Nasals According to Wood (1987: 131), final nasals may be elided in CFE; see discussion of elision, below. 2.2.4. Fricatives and affricates F Wood (1987: 123) notes the occurrence, especially among Extreme CFE speakers, of antedental /f/, (that is, with the lower lip in front of rather than below the top teeth). TH Wood (1987: 130–131) notes the presence of TH-Stopping, with // and // variably realised as (dental) [t] and [d]. He maintains that this is typical of Extreme CFE speakers.

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SH, ZH, CH, J Wood (1987: 129–130) notes that the hushing fricatives and affricates have, as well as /
 t
d/, two major distinctive realisations, involving hushing segments realised as (a) hissing fricatives (thus, /
 t
d/ realised as [s z ts dz]), or as (b) backed hushing fricatives (thus, /
 t
d/ realised as [
 t
d]). The former set of realisations is typical of L2 (= mainly working-class, Extreme CFE) speakers, the latter of L1 (= mainly middle-class speakers); in my data (mainly from middleclass, L1 speakers), there was considerable use of backed variants. Wood suggests these are hypercorrect forms. Lanham (1982: 343) also notes the tendency (probably among L2 speakers) for /d/ to be realised as [j] (e.g. judge [j3t
]), as may occur also in White Afrikaans English. Wood also notes an L2-speaker tendency to substitute /s/ for /
/ and vice-versa when in close proximity to following /
/ or // , e.g. social [*
us l]. 2.2.5. Approximants R Wood points out that although CFE has a characteristically ‘obstruent’ /r/, as a variety of English CFE is generally non-rhotic; that is, unlike Afrikaans English (AfkE), /r/ is not pronounced in pre-consonantal or word-final contexts, probably because CVA itself generally has no pronounced /r/ in similar contexts, such as kerk ‘church’, ver ‘far’ (see Wood 1987: 114, 129). Steenkamp’s study (1980, cited in Wood 1987: 112–114; see also Hastings 1979, cited in Wood 1987: 111), which focussed on /r/, found at least four types in use – resonant [], fricative [r i > i.

FLEECE

i:

FOOT

U

GOOSE

u: > ü:

TRAP

Q > E

DRESS

e>E

NURSE

a:

THOUGHT

ç:

LOT

a>

DOOR

¨ > ç

CLOTH

Å>a

START

A:

STRUT



BATH

A:

COMMA



PALM

A:

LETTER

>

HAPPY

i

PRICE

AI > aI > çI >I

HORSES



CHOICE

oI > çI

SQUARE

e

NEAR

i > I > ijE

GOAT

oU > U

CURE

ju

FACE

eI

MOUTH

AU > aU > a

The short monophthongs KIT

StHE does exhibit a ‘KIT-split’, [I] being the common realisation in velar and glottal contexts, as in kit, big, sing, hit and give; and a more centralised vowel [I] elsewhere, as in bit, fit, sin, bin etc. Particularly in older speakers the split is not as widespread, with the vowel in tin, mill, spin etc. often realised as high front [i]. There is some variation even in individual speakers, who might, for example, pronounce a high front [i] in tin and a rather central to back [I] in mill. There is another notable anomaly to the split, in the realisation of segments that are preceded by [s] and end in [k], such as sick and sixty where the /i/ vowel is articulated much further back and laxer, approximating [ƒ_]. To a lesser extent,

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Sheila Wilson

before /k/ the vowel is realised as central or even slightly back of central as in cricket and pick []. DRESS

The usual realisation of this vowel is mid-front [e], approximating to slightly lowered [E] in many environments e.g. before the nasal /n/ in second for some speakers. For some words ending in [g], such as leg, there are occasional realisations of the vowel as a diphthong – [leIg] (see discussion below under LOT). TRAP

The vowel here is generally equivalent to RP [Q]. However some speakers have [ ] in bed, that, etc. FOOT

Generally a weakly-rounded back [U]. In some speakers this vowel is slightly centralised and unrounded. STRUT

This is generally articulated as a low back vowel [], with occcasional tendency towards centring. LOT

There is some variation, with RP standard [Å] used by some speakers on occasion, but the general tendency is towards unrounding to [a]. In monosyllabic words ending in [g], such as fog and dog, a certain number of speakers articulate a lengthened diphthong [oU], analagous to the pronunciation of vogue. This doesn’t appear widespread, and is generally considered by the speakers themselves as amusingly parochial, and is probably an archaism that was much more prominent in the past. A diphthong quality also appears with [e] before /g/. Evidence that this is a related archaism could be taken from the fact that one of the common, and therefore historical, family names on St Helena is Legg, pronounced by the local radio station interviewer as [leIg], whereas in his everyday speech he would not use such a realisation. The long monophthongs NURSE

Although some older speakers use the vowel similar to RP [:], there is a prominent ‘island variant’ here, which is unrounded, lax and more open than RP [:]. It is difficult to transcribe and I tentatively use [a:] for it. It has a fronter value approximating [Q:] in church and a backer value approximating [˘] in work. FLEECE

This vowel is uniformly [i:]. GOOSE

Generally a back rounded vowel, approximating [u:].

St. Helena English: phonology

989

PALM

The usual vowel here is [A˘]. THOUGHT

Generally [ç:], but tendency in some speakers to articulate vowel as diphthong [ç ]. NORTH

StHE is a non-rhotic variety. Hence this vowel is often realised as a diphthong [ç ] or less commonly [ ] in words like before and door. START

The vowel quality here is normally [A:], sometimes raised and/or rounded. The diphthongs FACE

This diphthong is generally realised as [eI]. GOAT

Realised as [oU] with first element weakly rounded; in some speakers, the onset is more centralised with even less rounding – [ U] or even [aU] occasionally. PRICE

Although there are some realisations of this diphthong that approach an equivalent of RP [aI], there is a certain amount of variation. There is evidence (from occasional visitors’ parodies) that at least in the 19th and early 20th century a broad tendency to approximate [çI] was usual for this diphthong. An interesting split is evident, taking the much-used word island. In some speakers the vowel element has become monophthong [a:], while others retain a diphthong with rounding in the first element. Why is enunciated with rounding, as is size and kind. Time, has a rounded diphthong but also is enunciated as a monophthong [A:], varying even in the same speaker. There is also a tendency among younger speakers towards ‘Canadian’ raising in words such as like and right – where the vowel quality is [ I]. This is also apparent in the speech of some elderly speakers. CHOICE

This diphthong is generally [çI] ~ [oI]. MOUTH

Generally [aU], but some realisations of [oU], in about etc. In this class town is exceptional since for many certain StHE speakers the diphthong in town has the realisation [a ]. NEAR

Usually [i ] or [I ]; occasionally the second element glide is not enunciated, resulting in a monothong [i:].

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SQUARE

For the most part, this diphthong is realised as [i ], thus pairs like hear/hair, steers/ stairs are homophones. The vowels in here, there and bread are noticeably [i ]. Schwa In some multisyllabic words, such as expensive, the unstressed vowel in the first segment results in a weak initial [ ]. This would also be influenced by the glottal consonant following the initial vowel. With certain other words such as animal and hospital, where the second vowel would be schwa in most dialects of English, StHE speakers use a high front vowel [i]. Consonants and processes affecting consonants V and W In most speakers, /w/ is variable occurring as [w] or more commonly, especially word-initially as a labiodental approximant [V] - e.g. ven the vether is vet (‘when the weather is wet’); tin vistles (‘…whistles’), the Prince of Vales (‘…Wales’), and veel (wheel). The opposite change – [w] for /v/ also occurs, but this is rare – e.g. ower for ‘over’. Hancock (1991:20) comments as follows: The most evident feature is the transposition of [v] and [w], which is widespread in the island and coastal dialects (e.g in Pitcairn, Norfolk, Gullah, some varieties of Nova Scotian, & c.), and which have sometimes fallen together as [v] or [B]. This feature was common in some 19th Century British dialects, but has largely disappeared in Britain.

D and T In most cases, especially word initially, the interdental fricatives are replaced by other sounds, most commonly [D] > [d] and [T] > [t]; e.g. dat (that); tings (things). Sometimes there are dental stop realisations rather than alveolar stops; and less commonly an aspirated alveolar [tH], thus some speakers produced [tHQnks] for thanks. Consonant cluster simplification Consonant clusters are often simplified, especially at word endings; e.g. [fa:s] for ‘fast’, [p n] for ‘pound’, and [k lk] for ‘collect’. Consonant cluster simplification, although not as common, has also been noted e.g. [t
Irn'] for ‘children’, [t
ad] for ‘child’ and [spIdl] for ‘spindle’. –ING This suffix is almost unexceptionally reduced to [ n], with the vowel occasionally dropped in fast, connected speech to produce a syllabic /n/. Devoicing Final devoicing occurs in StHE. It is particularly common in the plural morpheme /s/ e.g. in beans, peas, days, houses, stairs and things.

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Glottalisation and flaps In casual StHE speech, secondary or unstressed segments, particularly word endings, are accorded even less stress than in standard varieties like RP. This affects the pronunication of intervocalic [t] in words like ‘sitting’, which is realised as a glottal stop with the last syllable reduced, approximating [sI/n]. In words like ‘letter’, [t] is flapped, resulting in [lER ]. /v/ > [b] and /b/ > [] In intervocalic position [b] occasionally turns up as a realisation of /v/ and [B] for /b/. Slight evidence that this may have been more common historical process is suggested by two examples. One informant identified a breed of duck as a scoby (from Muscovy). Conversely, two other elderly informants, talking of their work in the now defunct flax mills, enunciated the /b/ in ‘fibre’ as a bilabial fricative [B]. It appears that this articulation of /b/ is not productive, and is limited to particular words.

3.

Conclusion

It is evident that that StHE is a fascinating variety in terms of its historical retentions of certain sounds and processes common to the input British dialects. It also shows common processes like final devoicing that might be motivated by language and dialect contact on the island. As a variety whose history involves BrE dialects, languages of slaves from West Africa (and other parts) and their versions of English, StHE invites comparisons with African American English, Caribbean Englishes and so forth. At the same time in some features, like rounded realisations of the PRICE vowel and the KIT split, it invites comparisons with other Southern Hemisphere Englishes. There is clearly much work to be done.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Hancock, Ian 1991 St. Helena English. In: Francis Byrne and Thom Huebner (eds.), Development and Structures of Creole Languages. Essays in Honor of Derek Bickerton, 1628.Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Barnes, John 1817 A Tour through the Island of St Helena. London: JM Richardson. Mellis, John Charles 1875 St Helena. A Physical, Historical and Topographical Description of the Island: Its Geology, Fauna, Flora, and Meteorology. London: L Reeve

Indian English: phonology Ravinder Gargesh

1.

Introduction

Indian English (IndE) is a cover term for a number of varieties of English used as a second language in India. These varieties exhibit significant phonological variations, stemming from regional linguistic differences. However many of these features converge into what can be considered a ‘general’ phonology of IndE. English is widely used in India - it is the ‘associate official’ language of the country and it also serves as a link language between the educated. It is the most potent medium of higher education, perhaps the sole medium of science and technology. Most books, newspapers, reports, seminars and so forth directed to a nationwide audience are brought out in this language. Work on IndE phonology has so far been largely sketchy or tilted towards the use of English in a particular region. Because of an earlier focus on language teaching, IndE has often been characterized as a ‘deviant’ variety, with researchers focusing on its phonetic differences from RP. It is nonetheless surprising that no full-length description of IndE is available, despite its widespread use. English is spoken in India by a very large section ranging from the semi-literate to the highly educated. For the purposes of this paper a random selection has been made of educated speakers who use English as a second language. An effort has been made to broadly cover all the major areas of the country in order to make phonological generalizations and show the range of variation in IndE.

2.

Phonology of IndE

The present study is based on the phonological description of the variety used by educated speakers in the areas of education, administration, science and business etc. 2.1.

Overview of previous studies

Work on the phonetics and phonology of Indian English can be divided into five broad categories, which are more fully referenced in the CD accompanying this Handbook. The first category consists of works describing the phonetic aspects of IndE (e.g. Bansal 1978). The second category comprises studies that compare the

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sound system of RP with an Indian language and in the process involve a variety of IndE (e.g. with Tamil - Balasubramanian 1972). In the third category occur works which contrast RP with a regional variety of IndE (Marathi English – Kelkar 1957). The fourth category consists of works that study the perception and intelligibility of IndE (e.g. Bansal 1978). The fifth category consists of scholars who focus on the study of IndE in sociolinguistic contexts (e.g. Agnihotri 1991). In this process significant phonological patterns have been highlighted by Nihalani, Tongue and Hosali (1979), Kachru (1982: 359), Trudgill and Hannah (1982: 105) and others. The view emerging from most of these studies is that IndE is largely shaped by the phonological patterns of the respective mother tongues and that this process needs to be studied in depth. The description of IndE in the present work is based on tape recordings carried out in 2003 and 2004. The elicited data consists of word lists of Wells (1982) and Foulkes and Docherty (1999), a reading passage and a stretch of free conversation by speakers of IndE from various parts of the country. Since there is a large transferring or migrating population in Delhi, the entire recording was done in this capital city. For the analysis this work will first enumerate the distinctive sounds of IndE and then go on to look at the major phonological processes, and the principles of word accentuation and intonation. 2.2.

Distinctive sounds of Indian English

The distinctive sounds of Indian English have been identified by Bansal (1978: 101-111) and Nihalani, Tongue and Hosali (1979: 209-212) by viewing IndE as a uniform variety of an educated group. However, much regional variation is found in the utterance of many vowels and consonants across the length and breadth of the country. The variations are mainly due to the following factors: (i)

The influence of the phonology of Indian languages which consist of over 200 mainstream languages belonging to four distinct language families: IndoAryan, Dravidian, Austro-Asiatic and Tibeto-Burman. (ii) Within the languages of the respective language families there is much regional variation. (iii) Since English is taught to Indians by Indians the local influence of sounds can be easily perceived. (iv) Sociologically, the IndE speech community consists broadly of three kinds of speakers: (a) a small number of people whose command over English is near-native, (b) a significant number of administrators, teachers, scientists, journalists, businessmen etc., at the middle level, whose variety is considered to be the educated variety and a benchmark for English Language teaching (ELT) and (c) at the lower level there are many others whose competence is severely limited and who can use English only in their restricted domains, e.g. shopkeepers, waiters etc.

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2.3

The vowels of IndE

Table 1. The vowels of IndE according to Wells’ lexical sets. KIT

I > i˘

DRESS

e>E>´

TRAP

Q>E

LOT

ç>Å>a

STRUT

√>´>U

FOOT

U > u˘

BATH

˘

CLOTH

ç > o > a˘

NURSE

Œ˘ > √ > ´ > a˘

FLEECE

i˘ > I

FACE

e˘

PALM

˘

THOUGHT

ç˘ > o˘ > a˘

GOAT

o˘ > ç˘

GOOSE

u˘

PRICE

aI

CHOICE

çI > oI > oe

MOUTH

aU

NEAR

I´ > i˘j´ > Ij´˘ > e´

SQUARE

Q > e˘ > e´ > E˘

START

˘

NORTH

ç˘ > a˘ > Å

FORCE

ç˘ > o˘

CURE

Ijo˘ > Ijç˘ > Iju˘ > Iju´

happY

I > i˘

lettER

´

horsES

´>ˆ

commA

a

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The short monophthongs KIT

This short, stressed, high vowel is generally articulated all over India, except for the Bengal-Orissa region in Eastern India where the languages of this region do not have the long-short vowel distinctions. Hence, this vowel freely alternates with the long, stressed, high vowel [i:] in the category of FLEECE. DRESS

The major realizations of this vowel are [e] and []. In regions of Uttar Pradesh, Haryana, Rajasthan, Gujarat, Tamil Nadu and Karnataka, it is realized as [e]. However, in Maharashtra, Kashmir, Punjab, Bihar, and Orissa and in the Northeastern region of India it is realized as []. At times it is also realized as [´]. TRAP

By and large the vowel is realized as [Q], however in Haryana, Rajasthan and Gujarat it is often heard as the lowered []. LOT

The usual vowel realization is [ç]. In some regions like Gujarat, Maharashtra and Kashmir it is realized as [Å]. Its variation [a:] can also be heard in most parts of India. STRUT

While it is usually realised as [√], some informants from Kashmir, Harayana and Uttar Pradesh (UP) articulate it as the non-stressed [´]. Some follow the written convention to realize it as [U]. FOOT

Mostly it is realized as a weakly-rounded [U]. However, there are regions like Bengal, Orissa, and parts of Bihar, UP and Rajasthan where the long back vowel [u:] can often be heard. The long monophthongs BATH

It is realized as long low back vowel [ :]. CLOTH

It is mostly articulated as [ç:] and is also realized as [o:] in Haryana, UP, Rajasthan and Bengal. However, in most parts of the country it is also realized as [a:]. NURSE

It is mostly realized as [E:]. It occurs as [√] in Gujarat, Rajasthan, Haryana, Punjab and in North-East India. In Maharashtra, UP, Tamil Nadu, Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh (AP), and Kerala it realized as [´]. In areas of Orissa and Bengal it is also articulated as [a:].

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FLEECE

It is by and large articulated as [i:] with [I] being in variation amongst speakers of Orissa and Bengal. PALM

It is realized as the low-back, long, unrounded vowel [ :] as in BATH. THOUGHT

The usual realization is [ç], a half-open weakly rounded back vowel. It is also realized by some speakers as [o:] and by still others as [a:]. GOOSE

It is usually realized as the high, back rounded [u:]. START

Mostly realized as [ :], at times with a postvocalic trilled /r/. NORTH

Largely it is realized as [ç]. However, extensive variation exists in the form [a:] and [Å:]. FORCE

Mostly it is realized as [o]. Some variation is available in the form [ç]. The diphthongs FACE

It is invariably realized as the monophthong [e:]. GOAT

It is usually realized as a monophthong [o:]. Some speakers articulate it as [ç:] due to, probably, spelling convention in words like broad. PRICE

It is realized as a diphthong [aI]. The glide element of [I] is quite distinct. CHOICE

This diphthong has three variations: [çI], [oe], and [oI]. MOUTH

It is uniformly realized as the diphthong [aU]. The latter sound of the diphthong is relatively stronger than the one in RP. NEAR

The most widespread realization is the diphthong [I´]. The other significant variations are [i:j´], [Ij´:] and [e´]. SQUARE

Mostly it is realized as [:]. Other variations are [e:], [Q] and [e´].

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CURE

Generally the diphthong is realized as [Ijo:]. But it has variations such as [Ijç:], [Iju:], and [Iju´]. TUEsday

Generally it is realized as [Iju:]. FIRE

The triphthong is realized as [aI´] mainly in South India, Bengal and Orissa. The variant form [ae´] is realized in UP, Haryana, Punjab, and Rajasthan. EITHER

The initial diphthong is realized as [aI] most of the time. Its variant form [eI] is heard more in South India, particularly in Tamil Nadu and Kerala. Some speakers also realize it as [i:], and in the northeast some even as [e:]. Other vowels happY

Generally it is articulated as the short front high vowel [I], but its variant form [i:] can be heard in parts of the country. lettER

This is realized as [´r] although in the highly educated variety it tends to be the non-rhotic [´]. Generally, the trilled /r/ is highly pronounced whenever it occurs in the graphic script in all varieties of IndE as second language. horsES

It is realized as the mid high vowel [ˆ] and at times as the low mid-vowel [´]. commA

It is realized as the half-lengthened [a.]. The opposition between /√/ and /´/, /Å/ and /ç/ and /E/ and /Q/ is not clear-cut in IndE varieties. There is recognizable alternation between /Å/, /ç/ and / :/ (LOT vs THOUGHT vs PALM). 2.4.

The consonants of IndE

Stops Out of the stops P, T, K, B, D, G, it is only the former three that show different realizations. Firstly, the voiceless stops are not aspirated in the syllable-initial position in IndE. This may be because aspirated voiceless stops are phonemic in North Indian languages, and the relatively weakly aspirated allophones of P, T, K in BrE are either not noticed or not associated with the phonemic aspirates of

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North Indian languages. Secondly, T, and D tend to be retroflexed as in the words certificate [s´rˇifike:ˇ] and London [l´n@ n]. Nasals In syllable-initial position only /m/ and /n/ occur; the velar nasal /N/ occurs as a homorganic variant of /n/ before velars. The velar nasal is realized as a combination of the nasal and the voiced velar consonant as in the words sing and rung - [sINg], [r√Ng]. The retroflexed nasal /A/ can also be heard when the alveolar nasal is articulated before a retroflexed stop as in the words aunty and band – [a:ABi:], [bQ˜Í] Affricates The affricates [tS] and [dZ] are distinct as in the words chin and gin and not generally subject to variation. Fricatives F and V are not realized as labiodentals in some varieties of IndE. For most speakers of Oriya and Bangla and those in the Hindi speaking belt, F is realized as [ph] and V often overlaps with W as in the realizations of the word power - [pa:v´r] ~ [pa: w´r]. In Orissa and Bengal the V is also realized as [bh] as in the word never - [nebh ´r]. The dental fricatives /T/ and /D/ are non-existent in IndE. The aspirated voiceless stop [t9H] is realized for /T/; the voiced stop [d] is realized for /D/ - as in thin = [t9hIn] and then = [den]. In South India the alveolar stop /t/ is often used instead of /T/ as in thought - [tçt]. /s/ and /z/ do occur in IndE. However, regional variations are often heard. E.g., in Bengal /s/ is replaced by /S/ as in [Sem] for same. The [z] is also often realized as [dZ] as in [phri:dZ] or [fri:dZ] for freeze and [praIdZ] for prize. The palato-alveolars /S/, /Z/ also have their variant forms. While /S/ is realized in most places as in RP, in Orissa it is often replaced by a /s/ as in [si:] for she, and [si:p] or [sIp] for ship. The /Z/ sound is mostly non-existent in IndE. It is realized as /dZ/, /z/ or /j/ as in [ple:dZ´r], [ple:z´r] or [plaIj´r] for pleasure. The glottal fricative /h/ is generally realized in North India. There is, however, a tendency towards H-dropping, substituted by a low tone amongst some Punjabi speakers; e.g., house is realized as [a$us] and heat as [i$:t]. In South India a ‘euphonic’ /j/ and /w/ are sometimes realized in place of the /h/ as in [jill] for hill, [jQd] for had and [laIvliwud] for livelihood . IndE has two liquids, /l/ and /r/. The /l/ is generally `clear’ (i.e. alveolar), even after contexts that induce a dark /l/ in other dialects of English (e.g. after back vowels). The liquid /r/ is generally trilled; in consonant clusters in words like trap, drain, cry etc it has a trilled rather than approximant realization. This is true of postvocalic /r/ as well: e.g., [ka:r] and [ka:rˇ ] for car and cart respectively. Although postvocalic realizations of /r/ might be an instance of spelling pronuncia-

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tion, it must be conceded that the English brought to India from the earliest times is likely to have its postvocalic r’s intact. Amongst the semivowels /j/ is only realized as [j]; while /w/ has an overlap with the labiodental fricative /v / as in [pa:v´r] or [pa:w´r] for power. It has already been pointed out that the ‘euphonic’ /j/ and /w/ exist in most South Indian speech as can be seen in [jevery] for every and [won] and [wonly] for own and only respectively.

3.

Some specific phonological processes of IndE

As a formally-learnt variety IndE shows greater correlation between writing and speech sounds than one encounters in informally learnt L1 English. In North India vowel-initial consonant clusters of the type #sp- ; #st-, # sk- and #sl- are generally broken up. In eastern Uttar Pradesh and Bihar a short high prothetic vowel /I/ is inserted in the word-initial position: hence [Ispi:tS] for speech and [isku:l] for school. In Punjab and Haryana, on the other hand, the low-back, untensed, svarabhakti (or anaptyctic) vowel /´/ is inserted between the clusters: hence [s´pi:tS] for speech and [s´ku:l] for school. Both these processes convert the initial monosyllable into a disyllable. In the north-east, particularly in Nagaland and Manipur, a word-final consonant cluster is simplified by dropping the last consonant, e.g., act is realized as [Ek] and fruits as [fru:ˇ ]. In South India svarabhakti operates in word final –nst # clusters. Thus, against is realized as [age:n´st]. IndE also reveals at times /´/ deletion in relatively light positions, in keeping with BrE norms: dispensary = /dIs»pEns´ri:/ = [dIs»pEnsri:]; allegory = /´»lEg´ri:/ = [´*lEgri:]; confederation = /k´nfEd´»re:S´n/ = [k´nfEd»re:S´n]. Wh- words are often articulated with the /wh/ sequence, as in [wha:i] and [whey´r] for why and where respectively. That is, /w/ is aspirated, not pre-aspirated as in RP and a few other English dialects. Geminates frequently occur within and across morpheme boundaries in words like the following: innate cannot

[Inneˇ] [kEnnoˇ]

fully oppressive

[fulli:] [oppressiv]

IndE shows greater usage of [d] rather than of [t] for –ed inflections after voiceless consonants. Thus traced = [tre:sd], advanced = [Edva:nsd] and packed = [pQkd]. Words like trust and trussed are homophones in RP but are distinguished in IndE by the realization of [t] and [d] in the respective words. Some speakers omit the semivowels /j/ and /w/ when following a mid or close vowel agreeing in backness. Thus yet is realized as [Eˇ ] and won’t as [o:nˇ ]. Con-

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Ravinder Gargesh

versely, it has already been mentioned that some other speakers add a semivowel before an initial vowel in exactly the same conditions, thus every = [jevri], about = [je*baUˇ] and old = [wo:l@], own = [wo:n] etc. It should also be noted that the rule of syllabic consonant formation (which converts [´] plus a sonorant into a syllabic sonorant) does not apply in IndE. Thus metal = [meˇ´l], button = [b√ˇ´n] etc.

4.

Prosodic features

One of the markers of IndE as a distinct variety is its peculiar word-stress and intonation patterns. These make IndE less comprehensible to speakers from outside South Asia than to its own speakers and those of South Asian English generally. This is because the rules of accentuation of IndE are closer to those of Indian languages than to those of RP. 4.1.

Word stress/accentuation

Word accentuation in IndE shows a heavy influence of the filter language(s). It is observed that in IndE a syllable of a word is more prominent than in RP. A careful examination shows that there is significant correlation between the weight and position of syllables within a word and their prominence. The problem can be explained by accepting the tripartite division of syllable types in terms of their weight: (a) Light = (C)V, (b) Heavy = (C)V: /VC, and (c) Extra–heavy = (C)V: C/(C)VCC (see Singh and Gargesh 1995). The following rules of accentuation broadly appear to apply in IndE: (a) All monosyllabic words are accented irrespective of the quantity of the syllable. (b) In bisyllabic words the primary accent falls on the penultimate syllable if it is not followed by an extra–heavy syllable, otherwise the primary stress would full on the ultimate syllable. (c) In trisyllabic words the primary accent falls on the penultimate syllable if it is heavy by nature or position, otherwise it falls on the antepenultimate syllable. The above rules can account for the placement of primary accent in a word of IndE. The first of these rules leads to the tendency of providing relatively strong stress to weak syllables such as in auxiliary verb forms, articles etc. Rules (b) and (c) go on to provide primary stress to a syllable in a polysyllabic word. Thus, for the application of rules (b) and (c) the following examples can be viewed:

Indian English: phonology

Rule (b): taboo mistake defy record gymnast monsoon abstract

[»ˇQbu:] [»mIsˇek] [dIf CaI] [rI»kA:rÍ] [dZIm'nA:sˇ] ['mç:nsu:n] ['QbsˇrQkˇ]

degree bamboo impact servile cartoon concrete

['ÍIgri:] ['bQmbU] [Im»pQkˇ] [s´r»va:Il] ['kA:rˇu:n] ['kç:nkri:ˇ]

Rule (c): tendency minster curvature necessary diminish attestation

[ˇEn»ÍEnsI] [mI'nIsˇ´r], [k´r've:tS´r] [nE'sEss´rI] ['ÍImInIS] [´»ˇEsˇeS´n].

modesty character literature terrific category

[mo»ÍEsˇI] [kQ»rQkˇ´r] [liˇ»re:tS´r] ['ˇErrIfIk] [k´»ˇQgorI]

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In the case of compounds the leftmost primary stress is generally retained. Thus: animation Chinese meditative photography

['QnImeS´n] ['tSaIjni:z] ['mQÍIˇeˇIv] ['foˇogra:fI].

relaxation Japanese dramatic

[rI'lQkseS´n] [»dZQp´ni:z] ['drQm´ˇIk],

As a result of the rules of accentuation many times the shift of accent due to grammatical factors is not observable. Thus the noun and verb form often remain the same: permit ['p´rmIˇ]; transfer ['ˇra:nsf´r]; impact [Im'pQkˇ]; protest [pro'ˇEsˇ]. 4.2.

Rhythm and intonation

IndE has its own syllable-timed rhythmic patterns. Here syllables are uttered with an almost equal prominence. This also means that often IndE does not use weak forms of vowels in unstressed positions. Thus a sentence like I’m thinking of you can be heard as: [»a:I »Qm »t5HINkiNg »çf »ju:]. Here the first person singular pronoun, the auxiliary and the preposition too have a relative stress and hence they are not realized in their shortened forms like [a:Im] or [´v] etc. Since the syllables are articulated more fully, IndE takes relatively more time in articulating similar stretches of the English language than, say, RP. IndE reveals a falling intonation in statements, such as in: The boy is running on the road = [d´ bçe Iz ûr√nnINg çn Õ d´ ro:Í]. A falling intonation can be perceived in commands and exclamations. Rising intonation is visible in yes-no questions, tag questions, some wh- questions, and in dependent clauses:

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Yes-No question Are you coming? = [a:r ju: à k√mINg?] Tag question He has done the work, hasn’t he? = [hi: hQz d√n d´ v´rk, ÃhQznˇ hi:?]. Wh- question What is the financial benefit? = [w√ˇIz d´ faInQnS´l à bEnEfIt?]. Dependent clause The boy who is walking will come here soon. = [d´ bçe à hu: Iz va:kINg Õ wIl k√m he´r su:n]. 5.

Current research issues

The phonology of IndE requires more work on the sound patterns of the many regional varieties of IndE. Intonation has been a more or less neglected field that offers many challenges to researchers. Given the expanse of the country and its immense linguistic variation there is scope for research in almost every branch of the phonology of IndE. Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Agnihotri, Rama Kant 1991 Sound patterns of Indian English: A sociolinguistic perspective. In: R.S. Gupta and K. Kapoor (eds.) English in India: Issues and problems, 175 – 88. Delhi: Academic Foundation. Balasubramanian, T. 1972 The vowels of Tamil and English. CIEFL Bulletin 9: 27-34. Bansal, R.K. 1978 The phonology of Indian English. In: R. Mohan (ed.), Indian Writings in English. Madras: Orient Longman. Nihalani, Paroo, R.K. Tongue, and Priya Hosali 2004 Indian and British English: A Handbook of Usage and Pronunciation. Delhi: Oxford University Press. 2nd ed. Singh, A. and Ravinder Gargesh 1996 Some aspects of syllable structure and word- accent in Hindi. In: S.K. Verma and A. Singh (eds.), Perspectives on Language and Society. Papers in Memory of Prof. R.N. Srivastava, Volume II. Delhi: Kalinga Publications.

Pakistani English: phonology Ahmar Mahboob and Nadra Huma Ahmar

1.

Introduction

A study of Pakistani English (PakE) must begin with an understanding of its historical and social roots in an undifferentiated, pre-partition ‘British India’. English was first introduced in the Indo-Pak subcontinent by the British in the 16th century. It received official recognition with the passing of Macaulay’s minutes of 1835. Throughout the British era, English kept gaining political and social status. By 1947, when Pakistan and India gained their independence from the British, the English language had become so entrenched in the socio-political fabric of the region that it was retained as an official language in both countries (see Ali 1993). English in British India initially spread because of economic and social mobility associated with the language. People learned English either by contact or through formal schooling. However, since there were not enough native English-speaking teachers to meet the demand, most English teachers were Indians. Thus, the input that English language learners received in South Asia was non-native and local. There was relatively little contact with native varieties of English in India, and after independence, this contact was further reduced. These factors have contributed to the institutionalization and evolution of South Asian English as a distinct variety. During the British era, as various nationalist and ethnic movements in South Asia used language as a symbol of their identity, linguistic issues complexified. An example of such symbolism is the division leading to linguistic changes between Hindi and Urdu which strengthened (and is strengthening) as a result of religious affiliation of these languages with Hinduism and Islam, respectively. In a regional setting, the status of Hindi vs. Dravidian languages of South India in post-colonial India, or the role of Urdu vs. Sindhi in Pakistan, has been a cause of strife within each country. As a result of this politicization of local languages, English, because of its ‘foreignness’, has been preferred as a neutral language and gained political acceptance in the new countries. These local needs and uses of English, and the limited contact with native speakers of English has resulted in what has been called ‘nativization’ of English in the Indian sub-continent. With the political partition of the sub-continent, the fate of English fell into the hands of the respective political leaders in India and Pakistan. In Pakistan, English was to go on a roller-coaster ride. While it was initially maintained by the Pakistani leadership, it soon became a symbol of resentment amongst the religious parties, who felt that maintaining the status of English symbolized a new form of coloniza-

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tion. There was intense opposition to English by these groups. However, there were three reasons why these demands were not taken into consideration by the government: (1) there was insufficient material in local languages to use in education and other domains (lack of corpus planning), (2) there was no other politically neutral language that could replace English, and (3) the religious parties did not have sufficient political power. As a result, English maintained its supremacy in Pakistan and little was done to change this. However, this status quo changed with General Zia-ulHaq’s capture of power through a military coup in 1977. General Haq justified his coup by implementing rapid Islamization and Urduization policies and decentralizing the role of English. His was the first serious effort by a Pakistani government to decrease the role of English. This change in the government’s attitude towards English was manifest in the 1978 language in education policy which advised all English medium schools (schools where all classes were taught in English) to switch to Urdu. However, elite English medium schools, where children of the people in power studied, were waived from the need to make these changes. Although these changes were supported by leaders of certain political parties and religious organizations, they did not find favour among the populace. By 1983, there was recognition within General Haq’s government that the language in education policy had been hurriedly passed without the required planning, and, by 1987, it was retracted. Although the Urdu-only policies have been revised, the impact of non-English education for approximately a decade and its dismissal from official use (especially in government) is still evident. Today, the government realizes the value of English in a global economy and is implementing policies to teach it at primary level in all schools. This change in policy is supported by most of the people who prefer learning English to other languages and see it as a means of economic development 1.1.

Pakistani languages and PakE

While work on South Asian English suggests that there is a need for a description of a pan-South Asian model of English, it also recognizes differences between various sub-varieties of South Asian English (Kachru 1983). These sub-varieties are defined in terms of local languages. Thus, PakE and Indian English have unique features based on the differences in the vernaculars of the population of each country (and on the different political, educational and economic policies of each country). Similarly, PakE itself is heterogeneous not only because of the socio-economic, geographic, and educational background of the people who speak it, but also because of the various first languages of its speakers. An example of this is the difference in the placement and quality of the epenthetic vowel in English spoken by native speakers of Urdu and Panjabi. – Native speakers of Urdu: – Native speakers of Panjabi:

[st rt] ‘start’ [s t rt] ‘start’

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Another example of variable influence of first language on PakE concerns the realization of []: – Native speakers of Urdu: – Native speakers of Panjabi:

[mer] ‘measure’ [mejr] or [medr] ‘measure’

In this example, the [] is either realized as a [j] or a [d] by Panjabi speakers of PakE. The exact distribution of this variation has not been studied. These examples of differences in PakE suggest that there may be considerable variation within PakE based on speakers’ first language. Pakistan is a multilingual country with at least 69 living languages (Ethnologue 2002), and speakers of these different languages may be predicted to speak English differently. Unfortunately, at present, there is no research that explores the extent of influence of various mother tongues on PakE(es). A review of the small number of studies that focus on PakE is presented in the companion paper on PakE in the syntax volume of this handbook.. The dominant (numerically and politically) languages of Pakistan include (in alphabetical order), Balochi, English, Pashtu, Panjabi, Sindhi, Siraiki, and Urdu. The percentage of native speakers of these languages is given in Table 1 below. The numbers (except for English) provided in Table 1 are based on the CIA World Fact Book (2002). The estimated percentage for English is based on the literacy rate of 42.7%, and the ratio of English medium schools. In interpreting the numbers provided in Table 1, the total estimated population of Pakistan, of approximately 150 million, should be kept in mind. Thus a seemingly tiny 3% of Baluchi speakers corresponds to about 4.5 million people. Similarly, if English is spoken with some proficiency by 4% of the Pakistani population, the number represented is approximately 6 million people, more than the total population of New Zealand. Table 1. Major languages of Pakistan Language

Percentage of native speakers (except English)

Panjabi

40%

Sindhi

12%

Siraiki (a variant of Panjabi)

10%

Pashtu

8%

Urdu (official and national language)

8%

Balochi

3%

Other English (official language; used as a second language with a focus on writing rather than oral communication)

19% 4% (not verified)

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Although this information has not been fully utilized in research on PakE at present, it is hoped that future research will explore the relationship between PakE(es) and various indigenous languages. It might be useful to begin a comprehensive study of PakE with a focus on English as used by native speakers of the major languages listed here. The present study focuses on native speakers of Urdu because it is the national language of Pakistan and one of the two official languages of Pakistan (the other official language being English). Reference to speakers of other languages is made where information is available.

2.

Sounds of PakE

At present, there are no detailed studies of the phonology of PakE. This paper therefore attempts to present a preliminary description of PakE phonology based on data collected in Karachi in the summer of 2002. Language samples presented and analyzed in this paper (unless otherwise stated) were collected from six educated Pakistanis between the ages of 22 and 37. Four of these participants were female and two were male. All of the participants were native speakers of Urdu. Language samples were first elicited using the Sheffield word-list (Foulkes and Docherty 1999) and then the ‘North Wind’ reading passage. Table 2. Vowel realization in PakE using Wells’ lexical sets KIT TRAP STRUT BATH NURSE FACE THOUGHT GOAL PRICE MOUTH SQUARE NORTH CURE LETTER COMMA

 æ  æ ~   e ~ e ç  ~ o a a e ~  ~  ç j ~ eç ~ jeç  

DRESS LOT FOOT CLOTH FLEECE PALM GOAT GOOSE CHOICE NEAR START FORCE HAPPY HORSES

e ç  ~ u ç ~ç ~ o i   ~ o ~  u ç  ~ e  ç ~ ç  

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2.1.

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Vowels

Vowels collected using the Sheffield set as listed in Table 2 can be sorted into two main groups. The first group contains vowels which were spoken without variation by the Pakistani speakers. The second group consists of vowels that varied in their realization as spoken by different speakers. 2.1.1. Group 1: invariant vowel realisations Pakistani speakers did not exhibit any variation in their realization of vowels in this group. Vowels within this group can be further categorized into two sub-groups vis-à-vis RP. The first sub-group (Group 1A) contains vowels that are similar to RP and the second sub-group (Group 1B) includes vowels which are different. Group 1A Table 3 provides a list of words that fall in this category. This list itself has two sections. The first section lists monophthongs and the second section lists diphthongs.

Table 3. List of vowels with no variation among Pakistani speakers and similar to RP Lexical item

PakE

RP (based on Oxford Dictionary)

KIT





HAPPY





THOUGHT

ç

ç

NORTH

ç

ç

FORCE

ç

ç

PALM





START





DRESS

e

e

TRAP

æ

æ

STRUT





FLEECE

i

i

GOOSE

u

u

Monophthongs

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Table 3. (continued)

List of vowels with no variation among Pakistani speakers and similar to RP

Lexical item

PakE

RP (based on Oxford Dictionary)

PRICE

a

a

CHOICE

ç

ç

MOUTH

a

a

Diphthongs

This group is the largest containing 15 of the 29 words in the Sheffield set. These vowels did not vary among the six Pakistani speakers studied and were also similar to RP. Group 1B This group consists of vowels which showed no variation within Pakistani speakers, but differed from RP. Table 4 is a list of these vowels. Table 4.

List of vowels with no variation among Pakistani speakers but different from RP

Lexical item

PakE

RP

horsES





lettER





commA





NURSE





LOT

ç

ç

The first three words in this group are bi-syllabic. In RP, the second syllable is unstressed and, as a result of unstressing, the vowel is frequently reduced to [ ]. For example, RP speakers stress the first vowel and reduce the second to a lax midcentral vowel, schwa, in [let ] letter or [kçm ] comma. Pakistani speakers did not reduce the vowel but rather used a full vowel, e.g., [lettr] letter or [kçmm] comma. Thus, there were no observed instances of schwa in the data collected using the Sheffield set (however, instances of / / were observed in connected speech and will be discussed later). The NURSE vowel is [] and the LOT vowel [ç].Their RP equivalents, [] and [ç], are not attested in the samples of PakE collected for this study. The tense midhigh central vowel [] is not attested in Rahman (1990) – see section on rhoticity

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for a discussion of Rahman’s work on PakE. Nihalani, Hosali and Tongue (1989) also do not list this vowel in their table of ‘Educated Indian English’ monophthongs. However, they do list the lax low back vowel [ç] in words such as cot and caught. Pakistani speakers in this study substitute [ç] with either a tense mid back vowel, [ç], as in LOT or a tense mid-high back vowel, [o], as in CLOTH (see group 2 below). It is possible to explain the absence of the vowels [] and [ç] by looking at the Urdu vowel system. Urdu does not use either of these vowels and thus it may be the case that PakE speaker replace these with Urdu vowels. 2.1.2. Group 2: vowels exhibiting variation There was some variation in the vowels in this group as realized by Pakistani speakers. These vowels are again grouped within the chart as monophthongs and diphthongs and are listed in Table 5 below. While this paper documents variation in the realization of these vowels in PakE (of native speakers of Urdu), the range and distribution of these variations within the community has not been examined. Table 5. List of vowels with variation among Pakistani speakers Lexical item

PakE

RP

FOOT

 ~ u



BATH

 ~ æ



CLOTH

ç ~ ç ~ o

ç

FACE

e ~ e

e

GOAT

o ~  ~ 



GOAL

o ~ 



NEAR

 ~ e



SQUARE

e ~  ~ 

e

CURE

j ~ jeç ~ eç

j 

Monophthongs

Diphthongs

The vowel in FOOT varies between a lax mid-high rounded back vowel, [], and a tense high rounded back vowel, [u]. The vowel in BATH varies between a tense low back vowel, [ ], and a lax low front vowel, [æ]. The vowel in CLOTH is realized as a tense mid back vowel, [ç], a tense mid-high back vowel, [o], or a lax mid back vowel [ç]. In all the three cases here, it appears that the vowels vary

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between a tense and a lax form. In addition, another commonality between the pronunciations of these three words is that, while some speakers of PakE use the same vowel as in RP, others have a slightly raised variant. The diphthongs in FACE, GOAT, and GOAL in PakE vary between a diphthong and a monophthong. Whereas Rahman (1990: 25–26 and 90) suggests that monophthongisation is a general characteristic (especially in case of [e] → [e]) of PakE, data here shows that there is variation across speakers. In all three cases, two speakers (the same ones) use a diphthong while the other four use a monophthong. The diphthongs and triphthongs in SQUARE and CURE respectively vary between being centring and closing. The centring diphthong in NEAR varies in its point of origin. One of them starts from a mid-high vowel, [], and the other from a mid-low vowel, [e]. 2.2.

Consonants

2.2.1. Rhoticity PakE, based on the language samples collected, may be labeled a rhotic variety of English. [r] is pronounced in all contexts, including after a vowel, by most speakers. Examples of this were found in both the Sheffield set and in the passage: [fçrs] ‘force’ and [w rm] ‘warm’. Postvocalic [r] is produced variably – individual speakers did not pronounce it all the time. However, the presence or absence of [r] was not categorical for any given speaker. For example, the same speaker was observed to use [r] in start, cure and letter, but to drop it in force. The rules and distribution for such variation need to be explored. Rahman (1990) states that the degree of rhoticity in PakE varies based on sociolinguistic factors. He claims that speakers of an acrolectal variety of PakE may or may not pronounce instances of postvocalic [r]. However, the exact distribution of rhoticity within acrolectal speakers of PakE is not discussed. He further states that mesolectal and basilectal varieties of PakE are rhotic and speakers of these varieties pronounce [r] in all contexts. While it may be possible to identify sub-varieties of PakE using this terminology (as has been done for other varieties of English, e.g. Singaporean), we have avoided doing so. To date, there is very limited documentation of the linguistic features of PakE (in any social context) and therefore we feel that it is too early to sub-categorize PakE and attempt descriptions of possible sub-categories. Rahman’s work is based on only 10 speakers (from various L1 backgrounds), and his data was collected (rather anomalously) from Pakistanis living in the United Kingdom. His study has accordingly been severely criticized for a number of reasons.

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2.2.2. Retroflexion of [t] and [d] PakE uses retroflex stops. The alveolar stops of other English dialects are realized as [B] and [@]. This use of retroflex stops instead of RP alveolar stops is listed as an example of ‘series substitution’ by Kachru (1992: 62) and is a feature of South Asian English. Examples of use of retroflex stops [B] and [@] in PakE are: [sBrB] ‘strut’ and [@res] ‘dress’. 2.2.3. [t ] and [d] (dentalization) Pakistani speakers used dental stops instead of the RP dental fricatives. This change in the manner of articulation is also cited as a feature of South Asian English (Kachru 1992: 62). Examples of [t ] and [d] in PakE are [nçrt ] ‘north’ and [den] ‘then’. 2.2.4. /v/ and /w/ Urdu does not have a phonemic distinction between /v/ and /w/. A phonemic distinction between [v] and [w] was not evident in PakE either. The two sounds were realized as allophones of /w/. An example of variation between these sounds was observed in the pronunciation of the word wind which was either realized as [vn@] or as [wn@]. Examples of the variation in use of [v] and [w] are also found in Rahman (1990). The use of [v] for [w] appears to be a feature of South Asian English and is also discussed by Bhatt (1995) and Sahgal and Agnihotri (1988) among others. Rahman (1990: 33) also discusses this feature in reference to Pushto speakers. He states that Pushto speakers do not articulate [v] in word final positions and gives the example of [luo] ‘love’. Rahman states that this is an influence of Pushto, which also deletes [v] in these contexts. The realization of [v] and [w] in other contexts is not discussed. 2.2.5. Clear [l] All realizations of /l/ were ‘clear’. Kachru (1992: 62) lists this as a feature of South Asian English as well. In RP there is an allophonic distribution between a clear and a dark [l]. /l/ is realized as ‘dark’ or velarised [l5] when it is in a word final position or when it is followed by a consonant. It is realized as [l], a ‘clear’ or alveolar [l], in all other contexts. The following examples show that Pakistani speakers do not exhibit this allophonic variation: [ol] ‘goal’ and [lçB ] ‘lot’. The absence of this allophonic variation in PakE may be explained by looking at Urdu, which does not make a distinction between a dark and clear /l/.

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Phonological features

A number of phonological features were observed in the data collected. While we have described some of the key features below, these should be considered preliminary findings and generalizations should be avoided. The exact distribution of these features in PakE and the contexts in which they operate need to be studied. 3.1.

Spelling pronunciation/gemination

PakE tends to use spelling as a guide to pronunciation. One manifestation of this is in the gemination of consonants based on spelling. For example, all the speakers geminated the [p] and the [t] in [hæpp] happy and [lettr] letter. Gemination was also noticed in connected speech. For example, all speakers geminated the [m] consonant in immediately [mm@jtli]. However, exceptions to gemination were also observed in the language samples. For example, one regular exception was the word wrapped. 3.2.

Vowel reduction

The only instances of / / observed were in connected speech. In our analysis of the passage, as read by the six speakers, there were certain words in which an unstressed vowel was systematically reduced to a schwa. Examples of these words include: (a) the indefinite article a; (b) the definite article the; (c) the past singular BE form was; and (d) words with initial a like attempt. These words were predictably pronounced as [ ], [d ], [w z] and [ ttemp(t)] respectively. Based on the language samples, it appears that vowel reduction in PakE is limited to certain (grammatical) words and environments in fast speech, rather than being a correlate of unstressed syllables. It is possible to explain this non-reduction of unstressed vowels in terms of spelling pronunciation of PakE. A good example of this is the pronunciation of of. RP speakers realize this word as [ v] by reducing the vowel in this word to a schwa and voicing the labiodental fricative. However, in PakE this word is realized as [çf], based on the way it is spelt. 3.3.

Epenthesis

One of the most predictable contexts where epenthesis was observed was in a consonant cluster where the first consonant was a voiceless sibilant and the second consonant was a stop. Thus, stronger was pronounced [strçr] and start was realized as [st rt]. A less predictable context for epenthesis was between a voiced bilabial stop and an alveolar lateral approximant. Thus, blue was pro-

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nounced [blj] by some of the speakers. Both these cases of epenthesis may be explained by looking at Urdu, which does not permit these consonant clusters. Rahman (1990: 31) gives examples from speakers of PakE who speak Panjabi as a first language. Such speakers break the consonant cluster by inserting a short vowel, / /, between the sibilant and the stop. He gives the examples of [s pik] ‘speak’, [s kul] ‘school’, [s t l] ‘stall’. In contrast, Pushto speakers of English do not have any problems with this consonant cluster because Pushto permits these clusters (Rahman 1990: 33). 3.4.

Aspiration

Pakistani speakers do not aspirate stops in word initial position when they occur before a vowel. Thus, the word kit was realized as [kB], without an aspiration on [k] unlike RP [kDt]. This non-realization of an allophonic distribution of voiceless stops in PakE can be explained by looking at Urdu. Urdu, like many other South Asian languages, has a four-way phonemic contrast between voiced and voiceless stops, and aspirated and unaspirated stops. This phonemic contrast is represented in the orthography of the language. There is therefore a good cause for L1 influence in English, with speakers treating stops in all positions as unaspirated. For further discussion see Kachru (1983: 29).

4.

Prosodic features

Kachru (1983) states that it is the non-segmental features of South Asian English (SAsE) such as stress and rhythm, rather than segmental features, that mark its uniqueness. He argues that while the segmental features of SAsE are heavily influenced by mother tongues and may therefore be different between various speakers, non-segmental features are shared. One of the primary examples given by him and other linguists working on SAsE is its stress pattern. Variation in stress between RP and SAsE (and a lack of vowel reduction in SAsE) also causes differences in the rhythm of the two varieties. Research shows that the stress patterns of various sub-varieties of SAsE are comparable and that they do not seem to be influenced by the various first languages of its speakers (Pickering and Wiltshire 2000). In their study, Pickering and Wiltshire looked at SAsE spoken by native speakers of Hindi/Urdu, Bengali, and Tamil and found that there was no significant difference in the lexical stress pattern in the English spoken by speakers of these three languages. This supports Kachru’s claim that SAsE shares non-segmental features. Thus, the following description of stress, based on studies of other South Asian dialects of English, may be used to describe PakE as well, since no independent reliable studies of stress of the latter are currently available.

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Four dimensions of stress in SAsE have been studied: syllable-time, frequency, pitch, and amplitude. 4.1.

Syllable timing vs. stress timing

SAsE, including PakE, is described as a syllable-timed variety (Nelson 1982; Kachru 1983). Syllables in PakE occur at regular intervals. This is different from RP which is stress-timed with variation in the length of syllables. The traditional explanation for this difference between RP and PakE is given in terms of the first language. Most South Asian languages, including Urdu, are syllable-timed and therefore it is concluded that this pattern is adopted by Urdu speakers of English. The syllable-timed rhythm of PakE goes hand-in-hand with a lack of reduction. 4.2.

Frequency, pitch and amplitude

Pickering and Wiltshire (2000) found that accented syllables were marked by a lower frequency as compared to unaccented syllables in speakers of Indian English, including those of Hindi/Urdu. They find this in contrast with American English and state (2000: 177), “compared to A[merican] E[nglish], in which accented syllables have increased frequency in these contexts, I[ndian] E[nglish] shows a distinct use of a decrease in frequency in accented syllables in similar contexts. This use of low frequency on accented syllables can also be found in Indian languages, suggesting a possible source”. Based on the use of frequency to mark stress, Pickering and Wiltshire label South Asian English as a ‘pitch-accent’ language. They use the distinction between a pitch-accent and a stress-accent language and state that the major marker of accent in South Asian English is pitch. Pickering and Wiltshire also find that unlike speakers of American English, South Asian speakers do not use amplitude to mark stress. In conclusion, they state (2000: 181) that “there are two differences between IndE and AmE in the phonetic realization of word accent. First, AmE is a stressaccent language, and uses cues such as amplitude and duration as well as frequency, while IndE uses pitch-accent, and relies primarily on the frequency to indicate an accented syllable. Second, AmE indicates an accented syllable with a high frequency, while IndE marks it with a low”.

5.

Conclusion

In this paper we have attempted to provide a brief overview of the history and phonology of PakE. However, the description of PakE phonology is far from being thorough. This is partly because no detailed studies of PakE phonology are currently available. In order to compensate for this gap, this paper provides a

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phonological analysis based on a small language sample. Research in World Englishes in general and Indian and Singaporean English in particular has shown a richness of sociological markings within varieties of English. PakE, as a living language, displays such variations as well. However, these variations have not yet been investigated. We hope that this paper will motivate linguists to explore these variations and study PakE in more detail.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Ali, Ahmed 1993 English in South Asia: A Historical perspective. In: Robert J. Baumgardner (ed.), The English Language in Pakistan, 3-12. Karachi: Oxford University Press. Baumgardner, Robert J. (ed) 1993 The English Language in Pakistan. Karachi, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Baumgardner, Robert J. 1993a The indigenization of English in Pakistan. In: Robert J. Baumgardner (ed.), The English Language in Pakistan, 41-54. Karachi: Oxford University Press. 1993b Utilizing Pakistani newspaper English to teach grammar. In: Baumgardner (ed.), 255-273. Bhatt, Rakesh 1995 Prescriptivism, Creativity, and World Englishes. World Englishes 14: 247– 259. CIA. 2002 CIA: The world factbook. CIA. Retrieved December 10, 2002, from the World Wide Web: http://www.cia.gov/cia/publications/factbook/ Ethnologue. 2002 Ethnologue: Languages of the world. SIL Bibliography. Retrieved December 15, 2002, from the World Wide Web: http://www.ethnologue.com/web.asp Kachru, Braj B. 1992 The Other Tongue: English Across Cultures. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Nelson, Cecil 1982 Intelligibility and non-native varieties of English. In: Kachru (ed.), 58-73. Pickering, Lucy and Caroline Wiltshire 2000 Pitch accent in Indian-English teaching discourse. World Englishes 19: 173– 183. Rahman, T. 1990 Pakistani English: The Linguistic Description of a Non-native Variety of English. Islamabad: National Institute of Pakistan Studies Quaid-i-Azam University.

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Sahgal, Anju and R.K. Agnihotri 1988 Indian English phonology: A sociolinguistic perspective. English World-Wide 9: 51–64.

Singapore English: phonology Lionel Wee

1.

Introduction

To understand the English language in Singapore, it is useful to make a distinction between two different varieties, Standard Singapore English and Colloquial Singapore English (CollSgE) (popularly known as Singlish). Though it is generally acknowledged that the variation within Singapore English is in actuality a continuum, language policies and attitudes, as well as academic perspectives, are often based on the polarization of this continuum into the two varieties just mentioned. In this overview, I begin first with a brief historical sketch of the ‘arrival’ of English in Singapore under British colonial rule, followed by a discussion of modern Singapore society and its language policy of “English-knowing bilingualism”. I then continue with a description of attitudes towards the colloquial variety, Singlish, before concluding with academic debates on whether Singapore English is better described in terms of a lectal continuum or a framework of diglossia. 1.1.

A brief history of the English language in Singapore

English came to Singapore when in 1819 Sir Stamford Raffles set up the first major British trade settlement there. Prior to that, English speakers had visited the island for purposes of trading and reconnoitering, but it was the arrival of Raffles that “began a formal connection with Britain which was responsible for the prominence that English has in Singapore today” (Gupta 1998: 106). Upon its arrival, the British administration encountered a ‘capitan’ system, which divided the society into three groups: Malays, Chinese, Indians, plus a capitan-less group of ‘others’, and each ethnic community had in effect its own legal system under the jurisdiction of its own ‘capitan’ (Bloom 1986: 352). This ethnically-based division was preserved by the British and till today, can be seen in Singapore’s policy of ‘multiracialism’ that underpins its current language policy (see below). The British were keen to cultivate a group of English-educated elites, and in 1870, produced young men “competent to earn a livelihood in Government and mercantile offices, but the majority of these clerks know only how to read, write and speak English imperfectly” (cited in Bloom 1986: 358). Crucially, however, English had been established as the language by which socio-economic mobility was to be attained, and by 1900, this group of elites had come to enjoy a much

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greater degree of English language proficiency and to also cover a much wider occupational range. Alongside the more standardized variety of English taught in the schools, there also developed a colloquial variety, one which showed a high degree of influence from other local languages such as Hokkien, Cantonese, Malay and Tamil (Platt and Weber 1980: 18). The varieties of Malay most important to the development of the colloquial variety were Bazaar Malay (a simplified form of Malay then used predominantly as an inter-ethnic lingua franca) and Baba Malay, spoken primarily by the Straits Chinese. The Straits Chinese or Peranakans are of mixed (Chinese and Malay) ancestry. While they tend to see themselves as culturally and ethnically Chinese, they often use a variety of Malay as the home language. As Gupta (1998: 109) points out, These two contact varieties of Malay had themselves been influenced by the southern variety of Chinese, Hokkien. The lexical items in CollSgE which are not from English are overwhelmingly from Malay and Hokkien – contributed from these two varieties of Malay.

This colloquial variety also developed in the English-medium schools, though more in the playgrounds than in the classrooms. According to Platt and Weber (1980: 19): The English-medium schools of Malaya and the Straits Settlements used English as the medium of instruction for all lessons and children were expected to speak English in the classroom. It is well known that children at many schools were expected to pay a small fine if caught speaking anything else. Furthermore, English was regarded as a prestige language, the way to better employment, the language which opened up knowledge of the Western way of life. In a situation like this, children often acquired some English from elder siblings even before commencing school, used it with other children at school and later on extensively in the Employment and Friendship domains …

This developing colloquial variety spread from the school playgrounds to the homes where it became a more prestigious variety than the local colloquial ethnic variety spoken by servants, parents (especially mothers) and younger siblings. Younger siblings were impressed by the new language and, as mentioned before, they often picked it up well before entering school in the version transmitted to them by their elder brothers and sisters, and used it together at home and when playing with neighbouring children. (Platt and Weber 1980: 20-21)

A number of things from this brief historical sketch will be relevant in the rest of this overview: the classification of modern Singapore society along ethnic lines, the view of English as a language serving instrumental functions, and the status relation between the standard and colloquial varieties.

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1.2.

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English and the official mother tongues

Singapore’s language policy today treats Malay, Mandarin, Tamil and English as the four official languages. Malay is also the national language, having a primarily ceremonial function: the National Anthem is sung in Malay, and military commands are given in Malay. Malay’s national language status is primarily due to Singapore’s past when it was briefly a member of the Malaysian Federation until it achieved full independence in 1965. A reason for retaining Malay as the national language is essentially diplomatic: Singapore is surrounded by Malay-Muslim countries such as Malaysia, Indonesia and Brunei. Keeping Malay as the national language is intended to reassure these countries that Singapore will not go the way of becoming a Chinese state. The other point to note is that, aside from English, there is a very specific reason why Mandarin, Malay, and Tamil are the three official languages. This is because the Singapore government groups the population into four main categories: Chinese, Malay, Indian, and ‘Others’. Here we see a modern-day version of the ‘capitan’ system, a policy of multiracialism, where equal status is accorded to the cultures and ethnic identities of the various races that comprise the population, and which, crucially, serves to maintain the compartmentalization and distinctiveness amongst the races. Singapore has a population of about 3.2 million, and its racial composition is as follows (2000 Census of Population): Chinese Malays Indians Others

76.8% 13.9% 7.9% 1.4%

‘Others’ is a miscellaneous category comprising mainly Eurasians and Europeans. The first three are specific ethnic communities, and these three official languages are their official mother tongues: Mandarin for the Chinese, Malay for the Malays, and Tamil for the Indians. There is no official mother tongue for ‘Others’ since this does not constitute a specific ethnic community. Thus, English is the only one of the four official languages that does not have a specific ethnic affiliation. This point is important to bear in mind because English is intended by the government to be a ‘neutral’ language, serving as the lingua franca for international and interethnic communication. It allows access to Western science and technology, and is the medium of education so that success in the school system depends to a great extent on proficiency in the language. As Gupta (1998: 120) points out, citing data from the 1990 census, this means that “(w)hatever measure of social class is taken, it is still the case that the higher the social class, the more likely it is that English is an important domestic language.”

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The government clearly acknowledges the gatekeeping role that English plays in Singapore, but is also committed to the view that Singapore society is meritocratic. This notion of meritocracy is intimately tied up with the government’s commitment to multiracialism, which calls for the equal treatment for all ethnic groups. Where English is concerned, this means that the government does not want it to be seen as being tied to any particular ethnic community. That is, the role of English in the unequal allocation of social and economic capital is acceptable precisely because English is officially no one’s mother tongue. Thus, to accept English as a mother tongue for any ethnic community would undermine its officially neutral status. Having encouraged the learning of English as a means of facilitating economic prosperity, the government is also concerned that English could act as the vehicle for unacceptable Western values. Here, the mother tongues are important because they are supposed to act as ‘cultural anchors’ that prevent Singaporeans from losing their Asian identities. This dichotomy between English and the mother tongues was underscored by Lee Kuan Yew (former Prime Minister and currently Senior Minister) in his 1984 Speak Mandarin Campaign speech, when he stressed that English is not “emotionally acceptable” as a mother tongue for the Chinese (the same rationale applies to the other communities): One abiding reason why we have to persist in bilingualism is that English will not be emotionally acceptable as our mother tongue. To have no emotionally acceptable language as our mother tongue is to be emotionally crippled… Mandarin is emotionally acceptable as our mother tongue…It reminds us that we are part of an ancient civilisation with an unbroken history of over 5,000 years. This is a deep and strong psychic force, one that gives confidence to a people to face up to and overcome great changes and challenges.

This bilingual policy of learning English and the mother tongue, known as “English-knowing bilingualism”, is a fundamental aspect of Singapore’s education system. Passage from one level to the next, including entry into the local universities, depends not only on academic excellence, but also on relative proficiency in one’s mother tongue. In 1986, Dr Tony Tan, then Minister for Education, underlined the importance of the bilingual policy: Our policy of bilingualism that each child should learn English and his mother tongue, I regard as a fundamental feature of our education system… Children must learn English so that they will have a window to the knowledge, technology and expertise of the modern world. They must know their mother tongues to enable them to know what makes us what we are.

Together, this statement and the one by Lee Kuan Yew clearly lay out the government’s position on the relationship between English and the mother tongues. There is a division of labor where English functions as the language of modernity allowing access to Western scientific and technological knowledge while the

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mother tongues are cultural anchors that ground individuals to traditional values. By contrasting English with a mother tongue, the policy makes clear that English is not acceptable as a mother tongue. 1.3.

Attitudes towards Colloquial Singapore English/Singlish

The official unacceptability of English as a mother tongue creates an arena of conflict since there is evidence that English is growing rapidly as a home language. The data below, based on the 2000 Census of Population, show that, except for the Malays, the officially assigned mother tongue is often not necessarily the home language. Language most frequently spoken at home (figures in %): Chinese homes: Malay homes: Indian homes: Others (i.e. mainly Eurasians and Europeans):

English (23.9), Mandarin (45.1), Chinese dialects (30.7) English (7.9), Malay (91.6) English (35.6), Tamil (42.9) English (68.5)

This has led to occasional calls for English to be officially recognized as a mother tongue. But it has also created a tension between the standard variety of English and its more colloquial counterpart (better known as Singlish). This is because the government insists that English must continue to serve a purely instrumental role if Singapore is to maintain its economic competitiveness. The existence of the colloquial variety is felt by the state to undermine the development of proficiency in the standard, and hence, to threaten that economic competitiveness. Thus, in his 1999 National Day Rally Speech, Prime Minister Goh Chok Tong stated that: The fact that we use English gives us a big advantage over our competitors. If we carry on using Singlish, the logical final outcome is that we, too, will develop our own type of pidgin English, spoken only by 3m Singaporeans, which the rest of the world will find quaint but incomprehensible. We are already half way there. Do we want to go all the way?

The Prime Minister thus expressed the hope that in time to come, Singaporeans will no longer speak Singlish: Singlish is not English. It is English corrupted by Singaporeans and has become a Singapore dialect… Singlish is broken, ungrammatical English sprinkled with words and phrases from local dialects and Malay which English speakers outside Singapore have difficulties in understanding… Let me emphasise that my message that we must speak Standard English is targeted primarily at the younger generation… we should ensure that the next generation does not speak Singlish. (The Straits Times 29 August 1999)

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This led the government to launch the Speak Good English Movement (SGEM) on 29 April 2000, and according to the chairman of SGEM, Col. David Wong (The Straits Times, 31 March 2000): We are trying to build a sense of pride, that as Singaporeans, we can speak good English as opposed to pride that we can speak Singlish. We are trying to check a trend in which younger Singaporeans are beginning to feel that it is perhaps a way of identifying themselves as Singaporeans if they speak Singlish.

The view that Singlish should be eliminated or at the very least, discouraged, has met with resistance from some Singaporeans who see it as “a key ingredient in the unique melting pot that is Singapore” (Hwee Hwee Tan, Time magazine, 29 July 2002). As Bloom (1986: 402) puts it, We now come to the crux of our problem. We seem at times to be talking about two different languages. On the one hand, English is this marvellous instrument of nationbuilding, the language of the “true” Singaporean; on the other hand it is a language learned strictly for the purpose of getting rich, divorced from the traditional values of Singapore’s component peoples, the language of, in the terms of S. Rajaratnam, the Second Deputy Prime Minister (Foreign Affairs), the religion of “moneytheism”.

This tension between, on the one hand, accepting Singlish as a legitimate part of Singapore’s linguistic ecology, and on the other, rejecting it in favor of a more standard variety is a continuing and important aspect of understanding English in Singapore. A similar preoccupation with the relationship between the colloquial and standard varieties can be seen in more academically-oriented discourses, to which we now turn. 1.4.

Approaches to Singapore English

There have been two main approaches to the study of Singapore English: in terms of a lectal continuum, and in terms of diglossia. The lectal approach is primarily associated with the work of Platt and Weber (1980), and treats Singapore English as a range extending from a basilect (which is supposed to show features associated with creoles) to an acrolect, which approximates a superstrate standard, with the two mediated by a transitional mesolect: Unlike other varieties of English such as British English… and the English spoken in the U.S.A., Canada, Australia and New Zealand, where there are two dimensions, one on a scale of regional variation and one of social variation, the variation in SE can be observed along one axis which is related to the educational level and the socio-economic background of the speaker. There is considerable variation within spoken, and to some extent written, English from the more prestigious variety of SE, the acrolect, through mesolects down to the basilectal sub-variety, and speakers of SE can be placed along a scale according to a range of linguistic features. (Platt and Weber 1980: 46-7)

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This approach has been criticized (e.g. Kandiah 1998: 95) for, one, assuming that concepts developed in the study of pidgins/creoles can be straightforwardly applied to Singapore English; two, for treating the superstrate as the standard that is aspired to by speakers of Singapore English; and three, for assuming that the continuum is mainly a cline of proficiency. The diglossia approach (Gupta 1994), in contrast, treats the continuum in terms of communicative choice rather than proficiency. It also treats Singapore English as a native variety which can and should be described autonomously. Thus, Gupta (1994: 7-9) suggests that the Low differs from the High mainly in syntax and morphology, and that the use of the Low “is not the result of error in using a language which may or may not be native, but a matter of choice based on context and affective messsage.” However, the diglossia approach is not without problems of its own. The fact that the Low and High are not strictly compartmentalized and ‘leak’ into each other suggests that the concept of diglossia is being used here in a nontraditional manner. Either that or we are simply looking at cases of code-switching without any society-wide functional organization of codes. Also, a large number of Singaporeans do share the government’s negative attitude towards the colloquial variety, pointing to a degree of linguistic self-flagellation and suggesting that this continuing anxiety over issues of standards and intelligibility may well encourage an attitude of exonormativity. As such, we need to recognize that while some Singaporeans easily code-switch between the standard and colloquial varieties, the very pervasive negative attitude towards the colloquial variety suggests that rather than simply assuming the correctness of one approach over the other, it may be more pertinent to combine insights from both if we are to achieve a better understanding of the grammatical and sociological issues surrounding English in Singapore. The dichotomy between the lectal and diglossia approaches, at this point, is thus best viewed as an unresolved debate.

2.

Phonology

Because the focus of this volume is on features that are different from the standard varieties, this discussion of the phonology of Singapore English, as well as the later discussion of its morphology/syntax, is restricted mainly to features of CollSgE. Lim (forthcoming) is a major treatment of various aspects of Singapore English and the discussion of reduplication and discourse particles draws on Wee’s contribution to this source. In the case of CollSgE phonology, most of the discussion is based on Bao (1998), which provides a comprehensive survey of the relevant works. In some of these works, the authors refer to the variety they are concerned with as ‘Singapore English’; in others, the reference is to ‘English in Malaysia and Singapore’. In order to better bring out the distinctive properties of CollSgE, these

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authors also often provide descriptive contrasts with RP (Received Pronunciation). This decision, it must be stressed, is purely intended to facilitate the description of CollSgE; it is conceptually a separate issue from the more controversial one of whether CollSgE can in fact be analyzed as an autonomous linguistic system. In what follows, I shall simply use ‘CollSgE’. I also continue the contrast with RP when describing the various properties of CollSgE. 2.1.

Phonemic inventory

The following set of keywords illustrates the lexical incidence of the vowels. Table 1.

The vowels of CollSgE according to Wells’ lexical sets

KIT DRESS TRAP LOT STRUT FOOT BATH CLOTH NURSE horsES

i æ  ç u ç

FLEECE FACE PALM THOUGHT GOAT GOOSE PRICE CHOICE MOUTH POOR

i e ç o u ai çi au u

NEAR SQUARE START NORTH FORCE CURE happY lettER commA

i æ ç ç ç i

(POOR is not part of the standard lexical set, but has been included here because the CollSgE diphthong /u / appears in words such as poor, sure and tour.) Table 2. The vowel chart for CollSgE Front Close Close-mid Open-mid Open

i e  æ

Central

Back



u o ç

The following table provides a summary of the consonant inventory of CollSgE. It has been noted that accents of English do not differ very much in their consonant inventories, and in this respect, the consonant inventory of CollSgE is similar to that of a variety such as RP.

Singapore English: phonology Table 3.

Consonants of CollSgE Labial

Plosive Affricate Fricative Nasal Liquid Glide

1025

Interdental

p b f v m w

Alveolar

Postalveolar

Palatal

t d  

s z n l r

Velar

Glottal

k g t∫ d ∫ 

h  j

Two points are particularly worth noting. One, there is no aspiration of voiceless plosives or affricates in CollSgE. This means that /p/, for example, is realized the same way in words like pin and spin. Two, the interdental fricatives tend to be realized as [t, d] when pre-vocalic and [f] when at the end of a word. For example, thin is realized as [tin] and then as [den], but in word-final position, we get [brf] and [brif] for breath and breathe respectively. This gives an alternation between [f] and [t] in filth [filf] and filthy [filti] since in the second word, the consonant is in pre-vocalic position. Words ending in /t/ do not display this alternation, as seen with a pair such as guilt [gilt] and guilty [gilti]. It is this alternation which leads Hung (1995: 32) to tentatively posit the interdental fricatives as CollSgE phonemes even though they are, in fact, never phonetically realized as such: It is therefore quite possible that there is a separate phoneme in SE (represented in other accents as //) which is distinct from /t/ and /f/, and which is phonetically realised as [t] in the onset and [f] in the coda of a syllable. Obviously, further data and analysis are required before any such conclusion can be drawn.

Hung’s caution is understandable since this, of course, bears on the theoretical question of just how abstract phonological representations ought to be. This is a controversial issue, and perhaps particularly so in the study of new varieties of English since there are often ideological as well as more ‘purely’ linguistic ones for wanting to treat each variety as a self-contained system. Whether this is in fact possible is a matter of some contention. Where the vowels are concerned, CollSgE contains nine monophthongs and five diphthongs. Table 2 provides a list of the monophthongs. The five CollSgE diphthongs are /ai, çi, au, i , u /. Two features of the CollSgE vowels bear mentioning, both relating to the neutralization of vowel distinctions. The first is that there is no length contrast so that any length difference tends to be sporadic. Hung (1995: 29) points out that while Singaporean speakers may be able to detect and even mimic vowel length differences in other varieties of English, "in their own spontaneous, natural speech, no distinction is normally made…". Thus, the distinction found in RP, for example,

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in pairs like pool/pull or beat/bit is absent in CollSgE; the pairs are essentially homophonous instead. The other is that there is also no contrast between tense and lax vowels so that all vowels tend to be ‘equally tense’. However, given that the tense-lax distinction has been criticized for being too vague, and that tense vowels are more likely to be longer, it might be possible to reduce the two features to one, and simply note the absence of contrastive vowel length in CollSgE. 2.2.

Phonotactics

The phonotactic distribution of sound segments in CollSgE is best understood in terms of the syllable structure. In the onset, CollSgE allows a maximum of three consonants, much as in RP. Examples include string and spray. Where the coda is concerned, CollSgE is much more restrictive. Hung (1995: 33) notes that for most speakers the upper limit seems to be either two or three consonants in the coda as shown in words like texts or glimpsed below. texts glimpsed

RP [teksts] [glimpst]

CollSgE [teks] [glims]/[glimst]

Hung (1995: 33) goes on to suggest that “(p)erhaps as a result of these syllablestructure constraints, final consonant clusters are regularly simplified in SE, by the deletion of some of the word-final consonants.” The deletion of final consonants is discussed below. Regarding the nucleus of the syllable, unlike a variety of English such as RP, where the lateral /l/ and the nasals can be syllabic, that is, occupy the nucleus position of a syllable, in CollSgE this is simply not possible. Instead, a process of schwa insertion takes place, leading this vowel to occupy the nucleus position, and thus relegating the lateral or nasal to the coda. The following examples, from RP and from CollSgE, provide the relevant contrasts. button bottle whistle

RP [btn'] [bçtl'] [wIsl']

CollSgE [b t n] [bçt l] [wıs l]

In a word like button, the schwa intervenes between the /t/ and the /n/. In bottle, it is inserted between /t/ and /l/. And, similarly, in whistle, it appears between /s/ and /l/. In all such cases, the effect is that syllabic laterals and nasals are avoided.

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3.

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Phonological processes

There are four phonological processes that should be mentioned in connection with CollSgE: consonant devoicing, consonant deletion, glottalization, and metathesis. These are discussed in turn. 3.1.

Consonant devoicing

In CollSgE, voiced obstruents commonly become devoiced when in word-final position, as the following examples indicate. leg news tab believe judge

RP [lg] [njuz] [tæb] [bıliv] [dd]

CollSgE [lk] [njus] [tp] [bilif] [d t
]

Emphasizing the extent to which devoicing takes place in CollSgE, Hung (1995: 34) points out that [i]n other varieties of English, word-final obstruents are also partially devoiced, but not as completely as in SE. The ‘dg’ in judge is in fact as voiceless as the ‘ch’ in batch.

The contrast between voiced and voiceless obstruents, however, is maintained in non-final position, as can be seen from the pronunciations of to [tu] and do [du]. 3.2.

Consonant deletion

In discussing consonant deletion in CollSgE, it is useful to distinguish two factors which together serve to delimit the conditions under which the process occurs. These are (i) the kinds of consonants that get deleted – only stops get deleted, and (ii) the contexts in which such deletions take place – the stops are deleted only if they are in word-final position, and if they are preceded by a continuant. We first begin with examples indicating that only stops get deleted. As the following examples illustrate, in words like limp or cent where the final stops /p, t/ are preceded by the nasal consonants /m, n/, the stops are deleted. limp cent stink

RP [lımp] [snt] [stık]

CollSgE [lim] [sn] [sti]

This deletion process does not occur with other kinds of consonants such as fricatives or affricates so that in words like nymph or laps, the word-final /f/ and /s/ are retained in the phonetic realization.

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nymph laps lunch

RP [nmf] [læps] [lnt
]

CollSgE [nimf] [lps] [l nt
]

As for the contexts in which the deletion occurs, notice that once these stops are no longer in final position, as when they are suffixed with –ing, there is no deletion. Thus, being in final position is crucial. Examples are given below. limping standing

[limpi] [stndi]

This deletion process also takes place with words derived by the addition of the past tense suffix –ed, so that the final [t] or [d] is not pronounced. helped stabbed backed

RP [hlpt] [stæbd] [bækt]

CollSgE [hlp] [stp] [bk]

Two points are worth noting. One, though the deletion of [t] in helped follows from the fact that the consonant is in final position and preceded by another consonant, the fact that [p] is retained (despite being preceded by [l]) suggests that consonant deletion does not take place if the preceding consonant is a continuant. Thus, in words like milk, silk, and bolt, the final stop is not deleted. Two, the realization of stabbed as [stp] follows if we take into account the process of consonant devoicing (mentioned in the previous section). Thus, the addition of the past tense suffix gives us /stb +d/. Consonant deletion leads to the removal of the final consonant, and devoicing results in [p], giving us [stp] for stabbed. 3.3.

Glottalization

In CollSgE, stops in final position are often unreleased (represented by the E diacritic), causing the vowels that precede them to become glottalized. tap tab leak league

RP [tæp] [tæb] [lik] [li]

CollSgE [tpE] [tpE] [likE] [likE]

Admittedly a variable phenomenon, the stops may on occasion themselves get deleted so that the word then ends in a glottal stop, as in like [lai] and hit [hi]. Bao (1998: 164) suggests that this is an influence from the phonology of the sub-

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strate languages, in particular, Malay and the Chinese dialects. In these languages also, the word-final stops are unreleased, and the vowels that precede them glottalized. Glottalization also takes place in words beginning with vowels, as indicated in words like a [ ], of [çf], eat [it] and apple [p l]. Brown (1988: 119) points out that there is no phenomenon of liaison (the linking of the final sound of one syllable or word directly onto the initial sound of the following) in CollSgE, and suggests a relationship between the absence of liaison and the predominance of glottal stops. He hypothesizes that because CollSgE words tend to be separated by glottal stops, this has prevented features associated with liaison (such as linking and intrusive /r/) from arising. 3.4.

Metathesis

Metathesis in CollSgE seems to be highly specific, being limited to the cluster sp, which is realized as [ps]. Exactly why the sp cluster should be prone to metathesis remains unclear. lisp grasp crisp wasps

RP [lsp] [rasp] [krsp] [wasp]

CollSgE [lips] [graps] [krips] [waps]

Other clusters such as st or sk do not seem to undergo metathesis (examples below); instead, they undergo the process of consonant deletion mentioned earlier. last mask

4.

RP [last] [mask]

CollSgE [las] [mas]

Prosodic features

Three prosodic features of CollSgE are of particular interest. One is its syllabletimed rhythm, which has been claimed to give CollSgE its ‘Singaporean’ characteristic. The other is its pattern of stress assignment, which can be rather complex. The third is its lack of pitch contrasts to express various kinds of speaker meaning.

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Lionel Wee

Syllable-timed rhythm

In a stress-timed variety (such as RP), the stressed syllables occur at regular intervals. For this to happen, the unstressed ones have to be ‘squeezed in between’ the stressed syllables. This can often lead these unstressed syllables to undergo further reduction so that speakers not familiar with the stress-timed variety may often have difficulty hearing the unstressed/reduced syllables. In contrast, the syllable-timed rhythm of CollSgE essentially means that all syllables take up the same amount of time, regardless of whether the syllables are stressed or not. According to Platt and Weber (1980: 57), this gives Singapore English “an even, somewhat staccato rhythm” and Tay (1993: 27) has been quoted as saying that “(t)his ‘machine-gun rhythm’ is one of the most prominent features of Singaporean English.” However, Brown (1988: 116), while agreeing that CollSgE does lack a stresstimed rhythm, disputes the sharp dichotomy being made between stress-timed and syllable-timed rhythms. He suggests (1988: 117) instead that it is premature to treat CollSgE as syllable-timed “merely because it lacks the relatively strong stress-based rhythm of native accents.” Thus, Brown prefers a negative characterization of timing in CollSgE, speaking in terms of the absence of a strongly stress-timed rhythm rather than the presence of an unambiguously syllable-timed rhythm. 4.2.

Stress patterns

Patterns of stress assignment are difficult to detect in CollSgE because of its syllable-timed rhythm. Since all syllables are given equal time, it is not always easy to detect relative differences in prominence among the syllables. This is unlike a stress-timed variety, where stressed syllables are typically realized with higher pitch, loudness and length. Tay (1993: 27-28) suggests a number of ways in which CollSgE stress patterns are distinctive. One is the use of equal stress in words which otherwise receive primary and secondary stress. Thus, in RP, a word like celebration receives primary stress on the syllable bra. In CollSgE, however, all four syllables receive equal stress. RP cele'bration anni'versary

CollSgE 'ce'le'bra'tion 'an'ni'ver'sa'ry

Another source of distinctiveness arises from the absence of differential stress patterns to mark changes in parts of speech. Thus, whether as a verb or a noun, the word increase is stressed in the same way; there is no difference in stress pattern corresponding to the change in grammatical category. This contrasts with RP,

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where in the case of increase, for example, stress is mainly on the second syllable (if meant as a verb) and on the first syllable (if meant as a noun). RP in'crease (verb) 'increase (noun) com'ment (verb) 'comment (noun)

CollSgE 'in'crease (verb and noun)

'com'ment (verb and noun)

Similarly, in RP, stress placement systematically distinguishes compounds from phrases. Thus if white house is a phrase, stress falls on house, while if it is a compound, stress falls on white. In CollSgE, however, regardless of whether it is a phrase or a compound, stress is consistently placed on the second word house. Thus stress in CollSgE does not distinguish nouns from verbs, nor compounds from phrases. And finally, there is also the fact that in a number of words, the placement of stress simply occurs on a different syllable. RP 'faculty 'character eco'nomic

CollSgE fa'culty cha'racter e'conomic

Trying to formulate a set of general rules that would predict how stress assignment works in CollSgE is not easy. However, there is a general opinion that stress in CollSgE tends to be oriented towards the end of a word. More specific attempts to describe the rules of CollSgE stress assignment run into difficulties. For example, Bao (1998: 169) suggests three possible rules: heavy syllables are stressed, stress occurs on alternative syllables, and if a word has more than one stressed syllable, the last stressed syllable carries the main stress. The distinction between heavy and non-heavy (light) syllables is based on the length of the vowel, which is assumed to be phonemically distinctive even though there is no phonetic evidence for this assumption. Bao thus acknowledges that for the rules to work, he has to assume that vowel length is phonemic in CollSgE. But this is a highly controversial assumption since there is no real evidence internal to CollSgE for treating vowel length as phonemic; the only justification is to argue, as Bao himself does, that RP (where vowel length is indeed phonemic) acts as the input to CollSgE. This is a position that other researchers may find untenable since it undermines claims that CollSgE can or should be analyzed as an autonomous variety without reference to more established varieties (e.g. Hung, 1995: 30).

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Lionel Wee

Intonation

A number of authors have observed that CollSgE makes use of a much smaller number of pitch contrasts than a variety such as RP. Thus, Platt and Weber (1980: 58) note that CollSgE speakers “do not use variations in pitch to express certain differences which may be expressed partly by such variations in RP”. For example, in RP, in a sentence like Sam likes coffee, a high falling pitch on Sam could be interpreted as contradicting the assumption that nobody likes coffee. And similarly, a high pitch on the first syllable of coffee could be interpreted as contradicting the assumption that Sam doesn’t like caffeine-based beverages. In CollSgE, speakers do not generally use such forms of pitch variations to express contrastive meaning. However, CollSgE speakers do often lengthen the final syllable as a form of emphasis. For example, when Reading! is uttered in reply to a question such as What are you doing? the final syllable of Reading! can be clearly lengthened as part of the assertion. Thus, coming back to a sentence like Sam likes coffee, a CollSgE speaker might, for emphasis, simply lengthen the final syllable of coffee regardless of whether he/she is challenging the assumption that nobody likes coffee or that Sam doesn’t like caffeine-based beverages. Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Bao, Zhiming 1998 Theories of language genesis. In: Joseph A. Foley, Thiru Kandiah, Bao Zhiming, Anthea F. Gupta, Lubna Alsagoff, Ho Chee Lick, Lionel Wee, Ismail S. Talib, and Wendy Bokhorst-Heng, English in New Cultural Contexts: Reflections from Singapore, 41-72. Singapore: Oxford University Press. 1998 The sounds of Singapore English. In: Joseph A. Foley, Thiru Kandiah, Bao Zhiming, Anthea F. Gupta, Lubna Alsagoff, Ho Chee Lick, Lionel Wee, Ismail S. Talib, and Wendy Bokhorst-Heng, English in New Cultural Contexts: Reflections from Singapore, 152-174. Singapore: Oxford University Press. Bloom, David 1986 The English language and Singapore: A critical survey. In: Basant K. Kapur (ed.), Singapore Studies: Critical Surveys of the Humanities and Social Sciences, 337-458. Singapore: Singapore University Press. Brown, Adam 1988 The staccato effect in the pronunciation of English in Malaysia and Singapore. In: Joseph Foley (ed.), New Englishes: The Case of Singapore. Singapore: Singapore University Press.

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Foley, Joseph A., Thiru Kandiah, Bao Zhiming, Anthea F. Gupta, Lubna Alsagoff, Ho Chee Lick, Lionel Wee, Ismail S. Talib, and Wendy Bokhorst-Heng 1998 English in New Cultural Contexts: Reflections from Singapore. Singapore: Oxford University Press. Gupta, Anthea F. 1992 The pragmatic particles of Singapore Colloquial English. Journal of Pragmatics 18: 31-57. 1994 The Step-Tongue: Children’s English in Singapore. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. 1998 The situation of English in Singapore. In: Joseph A. Foley, Thiru Kandiah, Bao Zhiming, Anthea F. Gupta, Lubna Alsagoff, Ho Chee Lick, Lionel Wee, Ismail S. Talib, and Wendy Bokhorst-Heng, English in New Cultural Contexts: Reflections from Singapore, 106-126. Singapore: Oxford University Press. Hung, Tony 1995 Some aspects of the segmental phonology of Singapore English. In: Teng Su Ching and Ho Mian Lian (eds.), The English Language in Singapore: Implications for Teaching, 29-41. Singapore: Singapore Association for Applied Linguistics. Kandiah, Thiru 1998 The emergence of New Englishes. In: Joseph A. Foley, Thiru Kandiah, Bao Zhiming, Anthea F. Gupta, Lubna Alsagoff, Ho Chee Lick, Lionel Wee, Ismail S. Talib, and Wendy Bokhorst-Heng (eds.), English in New Cultural Contexts: Reflections from Singapore, 73-105. Singapore: Oxford University Press. Lim, Lisa (ed.) forthcoming Singapore English: A Grammatical Description. Amsterdam/ Philadelphia: Benjamins. Platt, John and Heidi Weber 1980 English in Singapore and Malaysia: Status, Features, Functions. Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press. Tay, Mary W. J. 1993 The English Language in Singapore: Issues and Development. Singapore: Unipress.

Malaysian English: phonology Loga Baskaran

1.

Introduction

In considering the sociolinguistic profile of Malaysia it is important to study the ethnic diversity so characteristic of this nation. This diversity is a consequence of several phases and aspects of conquest or colonization and settlement (see Baskaran 1987). Thus we have the indigenous Malay speakers (Austronesian speakers) with their Austroasiatic counterparts (the aboriginal tribes) and the settler populace – by way of the Chinese, Indians, Arabs and Eurasians. The Austronesian speakers are the Malays in West Malaysia (with Bahasa Malaysia as their language) whilst the Kadazans of Sabah and the Dayaks of Sarawak are the major Malay groups in East Malaysia (with Kadazan and Iban as their languages respectively). The Austroasiatic speakers are the Malays in West Malaysia (the majority of whom are Negritos). There are many smaller groups of speakers speaking among themselves a host of languages of the Austroasiatic group. The language most commonly spoken among these groups is Temiar. However, all the languages spoken amongst these people have now been categorically classified as aslian – from the term asli ‘aborigine’ originally assigned to them. For purposes of conciseness, the umbrella term Malays would be used to include both the Austronesian and Austroasiatic speakers who form altogether about 55% of the total population of Malaysia. The settler population of Malaysia is mainly found in the Chinese, Indians, Arabs and Eurasians, with a sprinkling of Thais and Europeans. Of these, the Chinese and the Indians are the majority groups who are represented constitutionally on a pro rata basis. The Chinese form the second biggest portion of the population. They constitute about 30% of the total population of Malaysia. Just as the Malays have a kaleidoscope of minority racial groups with their equally diverse language groups, the Chinese also have a variety of dialectal groups. The main dialectal groups are the Hokkien, Cantonese, Hakka, Teochew and Hainanese peoples. The official Chinese language is Mandarin (also known as Kuo-Yu), which is used for all official purposes and in the media. The third largest group in the composite population of Malaysia is the Indian community. It forms about 10% of the Malaysian population and is just as heterogeneous as its Malay and Chinese counterparts. The majority of the Indians are Tamil-speaking followed by the Malayalis, Telugus, Punjabis, Bengalis, Gujaratis and Singhalese.

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The minority groups like the Thais, Eurasians (a blend of Europeans and Asians) and Arabs are all designated under the term others in the Constitution, their proportion totalling about 5% only. The Thais and Arabs use their own language; whilst the Eurasians and those who inter-marry use mainly English or Malay. Education has been significant in determining the importance of the various languages of the nation. With the National Education Policy as well as the New Economic Policy (of equal rights and opportunities for all the constituent ethnic groups) there has emerged an attempt to unify the various races of the nation by an official and national language. The official national language – that used as the medium of instruction in education at all levels and that used in oral and written communication in the various channels of officialdom – is Bahasa Malaysia. Previous to 1967, both English and Bahasa Malaysia were official languages. But since 1967, English has been accorded the status of a strong second language, whilst Bahasa Malaysia remains the official national language. The languages accorded vernacular status are the Chinese language (Mandarin) and Tamil, with Iban in Sarawak and Kadazan in Sabah. These languages represent the majority languages of the major ethnic groups (Chinese, Indians, Dayaks and Kadazans). Thus Mandarin is used as an overall representative language of the Chinese via the media, for religion and for purposes of vernacular education in national schools where provision is made for pupils to have instruction in their own languages – if there is a substantial enough number of pupils requesting such instruction (these are termed pupils’ own languages – P.O.L.). The situation is similar where the Indians are concerned. The official representative language of this subgroup is Tamil. Thus the media mostly caters for Indians in this language – through films, radio broadcasts via a special network, certain allotted television programmes and the dailies. In matters of religion too, Tamil is the predominant and official language used – both in the temples of the Hindus (where some of the verses are, however, in Sanskrit) and the churches of the Indian Christians. There are, however, small, rather insignificant deviations from this norm in the other Hindu temples (Punjabi or Bengali Hindu temples) using Punjabi/Urdu and Bengali/Gujarati respectively, and Malayali Christian churches (termed Syrian Christian or Orthodox Christian) using Malayalam as their language of worship. There are some Indians who are Muslim by religion and these are almost entirely Malay in their way of life. Thus Malay is their language both in the official and unofficial domains of life. The status of English as a strong second language means that meetings, conferences and any such liaison with an international audience would warrant the use of English as the official language. The Government, therefore, deems it important to use English as a language of international communication whilst maintaining Bahasa Malaysia as the official language within the country. This tolerant and rational policy is further extended to the other major languages as well, in that

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Loga Baskaran

there are provisions in the media for both Bahasa Malaysia and English as well as Chinese and Tamil – on a pro rata basis. In the field of education, as outlined earlier, the official medium of instruction is now Bahasa Malaysia at all levels – primary, secondary and tertiary, whilst English is used as second language in all schools. In the universities, some courses are given in English, with other designated courses being given in their respective languages. With the various official statuses accorded to the four basic languages in the country (Bahasa Malaysia, English, Chinese-Mandarin and Tamil) along with the diverse range of languages in actual currency amongst the people of Malaysia, it is unsurprising then that the average Malaysian is at least bilingual, if not conversant in three or more languages. 1.1.

Malaysian English – a preamble

In Malaysia, the variety known as Malaysian English (MalE) owes much to its coexistence with other local languages. Several indigenised sub-varieties of MalE can be identified at the informal level, depending on the L1. These sub-varieties coexist with a more codified and standardised model variety. In some aspects, however, (on the lexical level particularly) this tendency is slowly being changed, with some of the informal features also appearing in rhetorical and official discourse. Some lexical items occur in the Malaysian print and broadcast media not only in headlinese style but in full reporting style. Some headline examples are Anti-dadah (‘drug’) operations in kampong (‘village’); Ganja (‘marijuana’) victim gets six years and rotan (‘caning’); Sawi (‘spinach’) glut hits farmers; Eight get Datukship (‘lordship’) for Ruler’s Birthday; Toddy (‘fermented coconut water’) to be bottled and canned for export and Penghulus (‘village-chiefs’) get ultimatum. Apart from such influx of lexis into the MalE speaker’s repertoire, the phonological and syntactic features too have elements of nativisation. The extent or degree to which each of these levels have been indigenised varies, however, from one non-native variety to the other. Furthermore, within each of these new Englishes there is also differentiation between the standardised norm (the model acceptable for official purposes like teaching in schools, official functions etc.) and the more communicative style used in the speech of most users. The terms used to distinguish these two levels are the acrolect and the mesolect respectively. In Malaysia, the acrolect tends towards StdBrE although some local influence at the lexical and phonological levels is tolerated. The mesolect is very much the Malaysian variety – the informal style used among Malaysians. Speakers often weave into and out of this mesolect, using an almost International English at one instance (perhaps when speaking to a superior or with a non-Malaysian) and then switching into the mesolectal MalE when speaking to a friend. There is a third lect so to speak – the basilect – which most often signifies the uneducated style of speech communication which can be considered the patois

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form of the new Englishes – be they Malaysian, Indian or African English. In Malaysia, this is often termed broken English or half-past six English (half-past six being a local adjective referring to something below expectation or standard). With almost two centuries of nurturing and over three decades of nursing, English in Malaysia has developed into a typical progeny of the New Englishes. Two centuries indicate the period of English language currency in Malaysia. Three decades represent, firstly, the time span during which English in Malaysia was officially ascribed secondary status (1965 to 2003) and when its official role has changed. Secondly, it represents the approximate period of time during which most recent issues in the identification and recognition of the New Englishes have been vehemently debated. Although its basic features of phonology, syntax and lexis are not totally different from the original British English, MalE shows sufficient influence from local languages as well as modifications by way of over-generalisation, simplification, omission etc. that have become fossilised enough to be recognisably Malaysian. This is attested to by captions like the following which appear frequently in articles and editorials in the local English dailies: ‘Our special way of talking; The Malaysian ‘lah’ is here to stay; We all talk like machine-gun aa?; Our own lingolah and Malaysian English dictionary on the way’. 1.2.

MalE – global change

Although previous studies of MalE closely linked it to Singapore English (SgE), it is now appropriate to divorce them from each other at least on two historical considerations. Firstly, since 1965 Singapore is no longer in any way politically connected to Malaya or Malaysia; the case for sociolinguistic differentiation over 40 years is therefore reasonably strong. Secondly, the language policies in both nations have been different for the past 40 years. This will have varied implications on the role and long-term effects of English on the local populace of each nation. Tongue (1974), who describes the English of Singapore and Malaysia (ESM) in his book, predicted that within a hundred years the idea of one ‘ESM’ would become inapplicable. In linguistic terms, there are significant differences in substrate too. Chinese varieties predominate in Singapore, but are a minority in Malaysia. The implications of this difference have yet to be researched. Many researchers have described ‘ESM’ in terms of a standard and colloquial form with various terms like ‘standard’, ‘informal’, ‘uneducated’, ‘low’ and ‘communicative forms’. Platt and Weber (1980), along with Mary Tay (1993), see a three-tiered lectal continuum. I, too, prefer to take a three-tiered approach to describing MalE although I prefer to use the terms official MalE (standard MalE), Unofficial MalE (dialectal MalE) and Broken MalE (patois MalE). Thus the basic subdivision in my description of MalE would be as tabulated below:

1038 Table 1.

Loga Baskaran Characteristics of the three sub-varieties of MalE Official MalE

General Standard MalE: characteris- Spoken and written; tics Formal use; International intelligibility.

Unofficial MalE

Broken MalE

Dialectal MalE: Spoken and written; Informal use; National intelligibility.

Patois MalE: Spoken only; Colloquial use; Patois intelligibility and currency.

Phonology

Slight variation prevalent More variation is and internationally intel- prevalent – includligible. ing prosodic features, especially stress and intonation.

Syntax

No deviation.

Some deviation pres- Substantial variation/deent. viation – national intelligibility.

Lexis

Variation acceptable especially for words not substitutable in an international context (or to give a more localised context).

Lexicalisations quite Major lexicalisation – prevalent even for heavily infused with words having inlocal language items. ternational English substitutes.

2.

Vowels

2.1.

Phonemic inventory of the vowels

Severe variation – both segmental and prosodic, with intonation so stigmatised – almost unintelligible internationally.

Close phonetic analysis of the vowels of MalE remains a desideratum. The following account is a preliminary one that, it is hoped, will form the basis of future work and of refinements. Table 2. The vowels of MalE according to Well’s lexical sets KIT

i

FLEECE

i > i

NEAR

i > i

DRESS

æ>>e

FACE

e>e

SQUARE

æ>ε

TRAP LOT

æ>ε ç

PALM THOUGHT

> + ç

START NORTH

> + ç

STRUT



GOAT

o > o

FORCE

ç

FOOT

u

GOOSE

u > u

CURE

ç

BATH

> +

PRICE

ai

happY

i

CLOTH

ç

CHOICE

çi

lettER



NURSE



MOUTH

au

commA

>

horSES



POOR

u

Malaysian English: phonology

2.2.

1039

Vowel qualities

There are some differences in vowel quality, especially that of back vowels. The THOUGHT vowel is somewhat raised and centralised. The same applies to the BATH vowel. 2.3.

Vowel length

There is a general tendency to shorten long vowels in MalE – no doubt under the influence of Bahasa Malaysia, which lacks long vowels. This shortening occurs mainly in medial position. Some examples follow: /i/ realised as [i]

e.g. [fild] ‘field’ [pil] ‘peel’

/ / realised as [] e.g. [haf] or [hf] ‘half’ [pak] or [pk] ‘park’ /ç/ realised as [ç] e.g. [wçt ] ‘water’ [bçn] ‘born’ /u/ realised as [u] e.g. [fud] ‘food’ [muv] ‘move’ // realised as [ ]

e.g. [ l] ‘girl’ [w d] ‘word’

Conversely short vowels may be lengthened in MalE, especially before /n, l, r, s,
/, though the example of would shows that this might be lexically governed and not just phonological: /i/ realised as [i]

e.g. [fiFS] ‘fish’ [pin] ‘pin’

// realised as [a] e.g. [ran] ‘run’ [das(t)] ‘dust’ / / realised as [ç] e.g. [sç˘ri] ‘sorry’ [ç˘n] ‘gone’ /u/ realised as [u] e.g. [wud] ‘would’ [ful] ‘full’ / / realised as [ ] e.g. [sæl d] ‘salad’ [brekf s(t)] ‘breakfast’

1040 2.4.

Loga Baskaran

Use of unreduced vowels

As reported for several ‘New Englishes’, vowel reduction is not as common as in RP. In the following MalE words schwa of RP is replaced by a full vowel: [*raUn(d)] [æ*ses] [pçn] [kçnsil]

‘around’ ‘assess’ ‘upon’ ‘conceal’

In the above set the vowel that is reduced to schwa in RP is underlined. 2.5.

Diphthongs

Some diphthongs of RP have a reduced quality in MalE, with glide weakening to the extent that they can be considered as monophthongs: /e/ realised as [e] e.g. [mel] ‘mail’ [relwe] ‘railway’ / u/ realised as [o] e.g. [foto] ‘photo’ [slo] ‘slow’ / / realised as [] e.g. [] ‘there’ [h] ‘hair’ The RP diphthong / / is realised as [ç] in MalE. This represents a different quality to the lexical set CURE, rather than monophthongisation per se. Thus [kjç] ‘cure’, [pjç] ‘pure’ are the usual realisations in MalE. Similarly whereas the sequence in words like ‘material’, ‘serious’ and ‘experience’ is realised as [ie] in RP, the usual rule in MalE is not to diphthongise /i/ before /r/ [siri s] ‘serious’, [matiri l] ‘material’ and [ekspiri ns] ‘experience’.

3.

Consonants

3.1.

Consonant cluster reduction

Although consonant cluster reduction is normal in fast speech in many L1 dialects of English, the process appears to be particularly characteristic of MalE. Clusters of three consonants may be reduced medially to two as in the following examples: [hnsm n] ‘huntsman’ [mrid] ‘umbrage’

(nts > ns) (mbr > mr)

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1041

The reduction of tri-consonantal clusters is even more common in final position: [lims] ‘glimpse’ [mids] ‘midst’

(mps > ms) (dst > ds)

In clusters of two consonants, /l/ is frequently deleted if it is the first consonant: [rizt] or [rizl] ‘result’ [eb ] ‘elbow’ [sef] or [sel] ‘self’ [ç˘s ] ‘also’ Loss of final /t/, /d/ or // in clusters can be seen in the following: [iksep] ‘except’ [dades] ‘digest’ [indek] ‘inject’ 3.2.

[stæn] ‘stand’ [fif] ‘fifth’

Fricatives

(a) Devoicing There is a tendency for the devoicing of /v, z, , d/ in final position. Some examples follow: [if] ‘give’ [muf] ‘move’ [weif] ‘wave’ [wi] ‘with’ [bei] ‘bathe’ [smu] ‘smooth’

[is] ‘is’ [ds] ‘does’ [nçis] ‘noise’ [ru
] ‘rouge’ [bei
] ‘beige’

There is also evidence of occasional devoicing of /z, / in medial position: [isi] ‘easy’ [hsb n] ‘husband’ [asn'd] ‘thousand’

[ju
u l] ‘usual’ [ple
] ‘pleasure’ [rivi
n] ‘revision’

(b) Voicing Contrary to the tendencies in (a) above, there is also a tendency to voicing of /s/ and /
/ in certain lexical items. Once again the phenomenon is restricted to final and medial position. The examples below illustrate final voicing: [naz] ‘nice’ [fi z] ‘fierce’ [inkriz] ‘increase’

[pu] ‘push’ [wç] ‘wash’ [fi] ‘fish’

In medial position voicing is restricted to /
/: [spel'] [pre ] [nein']

‘special’ ‘pressure’ ‘nation’

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Loga Baskaran

(c) Avoidance of dental fricatives: The dental fricatives // and // are often realised as the corresponding alveolar stops [t] and [d] respectively: [tik] ‘thick’ [tri] ‘three’ [ç˘t] ‘thought’ [d ] ‘the’ [dis] ‘this’ [d m] ‘them’

[ænt m] ‘anthem’ [met d] ‘method’ [f d ] ‘father’ [eid ] ‘either’ [r d ] ‘rather’

In final position // is not really substituted by [d], but is devoiced to []. // itself is frequently realised as [t] word-finally: [bret] [w t] [fç˘t] 3.3.

‘breath’ ‘worth’ ‘fourth’

Glottalisation

Final stops are frequently replaced by glottal stops, especially in lower sociolects (sometimes referred to as patois or broken English): [h u] ‘hope’ [r] ‘rub’ [k] ‘cut’ 3.4.

[m] ‘mud’ [ç] ‘shock’ [frç] ‘frog’

Consonant substitution according to substrate

In lower sociolects, characteristic of speakers with low educational levels and social status, the influence of the mother tongue is particularly felt in the differential treatment of consonants. MalE speakers of Malay background frequently produce [p, b, d] for /f, v, z/: [pæn] ‘fan’ [pilm] ‘film’ [beri] ‘very’

[bit min] ‘vitamin’ [dibr] ‘zebra’ [dirç] ‘zero’

Speakers of Chinese background frequently turn /r/ into [l], and /z/ into [d]: [flad] ‘friend’ [læn] ‘ran’

[dirç] or [dilç] ‘zero’ [dibra] or [dibla] ‘zebra’

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1043

Speakers of Tamil background are recognisable by the substitution of [w] for /v/ and the deletion of /h/: [wæn] ‘van’ [new ] ‘never’

[as] ‘house’ [ri] ‘hungry’

4.

Suprasegmental features

4.1.

Stress

Generally speaking, the stress-patterns of educated MalE speakers are similar to those in RP but there is still a certain degree of variation in both word- and sentence-stress patterns. This is true of all informal speech and especially of lower sociolects. (a) Stress-position Where RP has ascribed stress-position in disyllabic and polysyllabic words that have only single stress, MalE differs where such stress-position is concerned: [eks *saiz] [*leften n(t)] [*int lektu l] [*misnd sten(d)]

‘exercise’ ‘lieutenant’ ‘intellectual’ ‘misunderstand’

In the same vein, the MalE speaker often tends not to produce differential stress on pairs of words derived from the same root like RP *import (n) versus im*port (v). Such noun-verb derivatives are homophonous in MalE, as can be seen in an example like Malaysia produces a lot of rubber which is the import of many industrialised countries. In MalE the realisations of produces and import are [*prçdjusiz] and [im*pç˘t] respectively. (b) Stress-quantity MalE does not necessarily have the same number of stresses in polysyllabic words as does RP. MalE may reduce or increase the number of stresses in the word: [*mænju*fækt
] [*denr *l izei
n]

‘manufacture’ ‘generalisation’

In some cases (as in *misunder*stand, *question*naire, *inter*rupt, and *fare*well) secondary stress is given equal prominence as primary stress so that the MalE version has two equal stresses. An extension of this feature of stress-quality would be word- and sentence-stress for emphasis or contrast. MalE speakers may emphasise or contrast a statement by lengthening and stressing particular syllables: Speaker 1: “How many years are you going away for?” Speaker 2: “Three years!” /*ri *ji z/

1044 4.2.

Loga Baskaran

Rhythm

Rhythm in MalE is more often one of a syllable-timed nature – where all syllables (stressed as well as unstressed) recur at equal intervals of time. RP has a stress-timed rhythm instead, which MalE speakers do use, though only in formal declamatory style or reading style. Even educated MalE speakers use a syllabletimed rhythm in casual style. 4.3.

Intonation and pitch

In RP connected speech (as well as within the word), intonation has a range of functions, the main ones being to cue in the primary accented words and to differentiate the various sentence-types along with indicating the various speaker attitudes (and emotions) involved within the context of discourse. The various types of nucleus (falling \, rising /, fall-rise \ /, and rise-fall / \) that are operant in RP are used to signify the differences in a speech situation, depending on the position and type of nucleus involved. In MalE however, there are not so many patterns of intonation and they do not perform so many functions. Thus if any syllable is to be stressed within the word or any word is to be stressed within the sentence, loudness is the differentiating factor (i.e. greater breath effort and muscular energy is effected by the MalE speaker). Change in pitch direction, both within the word as well as within the sentence, is not common in MalE as it is considered affected. In other words pitch direction does not change within the accented (stressed) word (say as a fall \ or a rise / etc.). Intonation within the word is most often level intonation, except in a few particles that are used in informal speech as indicators of intimacy, emotion, acceptance, excitement and the like. For signifying various sentence-types or for showing the speaker’s attitude or emotion, MalE does not have as wide a range of intonation as RP. In MalE, there are such markers of questions and attitudes or emotions as particles – examples of which are the lah, man, and ah(uh) particles. These are substitutes for intonation especially in indicating emotions and attitudes. As for range of pitch in the MalE speakers, it certainly is not as wide as that in the RP speaker (except for extremely excitable situations). 4.4.

Phonotactic features

(a) Gradation In RP unaccented words show reductions of length of sounds and obscurations of vowels – e.g. do has the strong form [du] and the weak equivalent [d ]; but has [bt] and [b t]. In MalE such gradation is not common. The definite and indefinite articles the and a, as well as the preposition of and the conjunction and, are

Malaysian English: phonology

1045

sometimes reduced in connected informal speech, although the frequency of such gradation is considerably low. (b) Liaison While liaison is a prominent feature of RP connected speech, it is seldom observed in MalE – except in the official speech of the educated MalE speaker. ‘Linking r’ is more frequently used than ‘intrusive r’ in MalE. This may be because there is an in the orthography: here and there far and near rare opportunity

/hi r æn(d)  / /far æn(d) ni / /r r çp t
un ti/

(c) Syllabicity The use of syllabic nasals and laterals in MalE is rare: thus we have [bt n] ‘button’, [lit l] ‘little’ and [bot l] ‘bottle’. Here schwa takes prominence in syllable structure, making MalE consistent with the CVC syllable orientation of Bahasa Malaysia. 5.

Conclusion

The degree of phonological variation – be it segmental, suprasegmental or phonotactic – depends on variables like the education and socio-economic background of the MalE speaker – along with register and the style of discourse. Certain features are definite enough to be considered diagnostic of MalE – yet it is difficult to decide to which level of MalE they belong. The MalE speaker, on the whole, has a competence that is near-native, if not, even native. This competence includes an ability to `switch levels’ and perform in a lect well below one’s highest level. For example: the same speaker may use a style which enunciates all three consonants of a consonant cluster in public speaking, but will use a style that reduces the same cluster to just one consonant when speaking to, say, his colleague in the office or a parking attendant at the car park. There are, in addition, the ‘patois’ MalE speakers who can be placed rigidly at a single level, as they are unable to switch lects. However, the actual phonological variations between the educated speaker’s official and unofficial speech have yet to be studied carefully. Patois MalE features, on the other hand, are predictable and identifiable. Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM.

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Baskaran, Loga 1987 Aspects of Malaysian English Syntax. Unpublished Ph.D. thesis, University of London, London. Platt, John and Heidi Weber 1980 English in Singapore and Malaysia: Status, Features, Functions. Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press. Tay, Mary W. J. 1993 The English Language in Singapore: Issues and Development. Singapore: Unipress. Tongue, R. 1974 The English of Singapore and Malaysia. Singapore: Eastern Universities Press.

Philippine English: phonology Ma. Lourdes G. Tayao

1.

Introduction

The Philippines is a multilingual country, with no less than 87 ethnic languages, eight of which are considered major in terms of the number of native speakers. After its annexation from Spain by the United States in the early 1900s, the Philippines made English its official language to be taught and used as medium of instruction in Philippine schools and to serve, together with Spanish for some time, as official medium of communication in other government domains such as the legislature, the courts, etc. It was likewise used in business transactions and in religious services and even gave rise to a body of Philippine literature in English. The language policy then was prompted by a desire to have a common language for negotiation in a multilingual society since at that time there was no single lingua franca for the entire nation. However, with the wave of nationalism that resulted ultimately in the gaining of independence, a clamour arose for a national language based on one of the major Philippine languages, but drawing from the other Philippine languages as well. Named Pilipino (now respelled Filipino) the national language shares with English the status of official languages of the country. Initially, the Philippine Bilingual Education Policy sought to develop bilinguals competent in English and Filipino, the national language, with specific domains allocated to the two languages. Science, mathematics and English were to be taught using English as medium of instruction while the other subjects were to be taught in Filipino. The 1987 Revised Philippine Bilingual Education Policy however saw some modifications made to the policy. It endorsed the use of the regional languages as auxiliary languages of instruction for beginning literacy. In this it was motivated by Cummins’ Interdependence Hypothesis (see Cummins and Swain, 1986) as the rationale for using the child’s native language in teaching cognitively demanding concepts and thus avoiding cognitive deficit and possible semilingualism on the part of the learner. A close examination of the policy reveals its goal to be that of transitional bilingualism with the non-exclusive use of English in the domains that were previously allocated solely to it. Subsequent factors have influenced the language policy of the country. On the one hand, deterioration in English proficiency has been noted even among educated Filipinos. This phenomenon is attributed in part to the reduced time in the use of English in school and to the increased exposure and use of Filipino in the

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Ma. Lourdes G. Tayao

mass media. Other contributing factors cited by Gonzalez, Jambalos and Romero (2003) are “the inadequacy of learning resources, and the absence of good models in English since the teachers are not themselves good models”. On the other hand, globalisation and the widespread use of English in the global village and the growing Filipino workforce seeking employment outside the country necessitate proficiency in English. But with the widening circle of English users and the rise of different varieties of English, an old issue has resurfaced. What variety of English should be taught in schools? Should it be Philippine English (henceforth PhlE) as an evolving local Asian variety, or General American English (henceforth gAmE) as the influential western medium from which it sprung? 1.1.

Philippine English

PhlE is used extensively in different domains by educated Filipinos throughout the Philippines. As early as 1969, studies were conducted describing Philippine English as a variety of General American English and recommending that it be taught instead of gAmE in Philippine schools. T. Llamzon (1997: 43), a pioneer in establishing the existence of Standard Filipino English and describing it, pointed out in one of his more recent studies that Filipinos are willing to copy American English, but only up to a point especially where spoken English is concerned: … an approximation of the English formal style is what they want. They retain something of their identity – in their lack of the nasal twang, in the careful articulation of individual syllables, and in their refusal to use the “reduced signals” of the informal conversational style of American English. … when educated Filipinos speak to their fellow Filipinos, they speak English the Filipino way.

The status of Standard Philippine English was also taken up by McKaughan (1993: 52), who pointed out that “Philippine English has emerged as an autonomous variety of English with its own self-contained system. It has its own distinct accent. The differences in form in Philippine English are not deficiencies but distinct forms belonging to the Philippine English speech fellowship … As to accent, any of the varieties, so long as they are from educated Filipino speakers can model good Philippine English.” Socio-political developments resulting from changes in language attitudes characterised by objections to a monolithic or single standard of language performance in English, along with the current emphasis on varieties of English, have brought to the fore renewed interest in Philippine English which has been evolving through the years. In this chapter I describe the phonological features of Philippine English citing whenever possible, reasons to explain differences between PhlE and its `matrilect’ gAmE.

Philippine English: phonology

1.2.

1049

Previous studies on the phonetics of Philippine English

Among the earliest studies is Llamzon’s (1969) Standard Filipino English, which attempts to establish English spoken in the Philippines as a distinct variety. His term covers the English spoken by educated Filipinos and considered intelligible and acceptable not only in educated Filipino circles, but also among native speakers of Canadian English and American English. Where phonology is concerned, initial objections were raised stipulating that there can be no Standard Philippine English pronunciation because of regionalisms. Bautista (2000), however, points out that the existence of regionalisms need not prevent the development and recognition of a standard variety. Other synchronic studies of PhlE focused on its phonology, lexicon and syntax (Casambre 1986) and its use in the mass media (Gonzalez and Alberca 1978). Llamzon’s (1997) study initiated a shift in focus from research on a single standard used by Filipinos in educated circles to the different varieties of PhlE across the levels identified as acrolect, basilect, and mesolect. Among the diachronic studies were the generational studies of Sta. Ana (1983) which sought to determine the problem sounds and grammatical features of Philippine English spoken across eight generations and that of Gonzalez, Jambalos and Romero (2003) which described Philippine English spoken across generations in line with historical landmarks on developments in English language teaching in the country. The generational studies showed “perduring” features of Philippine English phonology which have remained stable through the years as well as developments that took place in the course of time. 1.3.

A “lectal” description of the phonetic features of Philippine English

Considering that the Philippines is a multilingual country, different regions with different indigenous native languages would necessarily have their own distinct pronunciations of English words resulting from interference from the phonological structure of the native tongue. This is the reason for earlier claims made that there can be no Standard Philippine English pronunciation because of regionalisms. However, the studies on Philippine English phonology have shown sociolectal rather than geographical variables to provide a better account for differences in pronunciation among the different varieties of PhlE. While differences in the phonological structure of one’s native language and the target language usually affect a speaker’s L2 phonology, the three sociolectal varieties of PhlE cut across the different linguistic regions of the country. Thus, the features of each variety would be true to all speakers of that variety irrespective of the region from which they come. Llamzon’s (1997) study of the phonetic features of Philippine English describes three distinct sociolinguistic varieties of PhlE as far as pronunciation is concerned.

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Ma. Lourdes G. Tayao

One is the acrolect, which closely approximates the formal style of gAmE and is acceptable to educated Filipinos. Llamzon refers to this approximation of gAmE formal style as the “Filipino English formal style” and he cites well-known figures in the media and education as speakers of that style. The second is the mesolect, which exhibits more differences from the phonological structure of gAmE but is also used by educated Filipinos – notable personages in government, higher education and in the mass media. The last variety, referred to by Llamzon as the basilect variety, is one where “the speaker’s ethnic tongue forms the substratum,” hence more substitutions are evident in it than in the other two varieties Although the acrolect variety of PhlE closely resembles gAmE, varied studies of the former (Llamzon 1969, 1997; Gonzalez 1985; Casambre 1986) have noted that some of its phonetic features which serve to distinguish it from the latter have remained stable through the years. More differences are notable in the mesolect variety and are even more pronounced in the basilect.

2.

The phonetic features of PhlE

2.1.

Vowels

Table 1 summarises the vowels of PhlE in terms of Wells’ lexical sets. Table 1. The vowels of PhlE in terms of Wells’ lexical sets KIT

i:> i > 

FLEECE

i: > i > 

NEAR

ir

DRESS



FACE

eI

SQUARE

er

TRAP

A

PALM

A

START

Ar

LOT

A

THOUGHT

o

NORTH

or

STRUT

√

GOAT

o

FORCE

or

FOOT

u: > u > 

GOOSE

u: > u > 

CURE

ur

BATH

A

PRICE

AI

happY

I

CLOTH

o

CHOICE

oI

lettER

Er

NURSE

Er

MOUTH

AU

commA

A

horSES

E

POOR

ur

Since there is considerable lectal variation further details are provided in Table 2, of the three PhlE varieties alongside those of gAmE. In table 2 a minus sign (-) represents a set present in gAmE but absent in the PhlE variety. Substitutions made for those absent phonemes are enclosed in parenthesis in the last column of

Philippine English: phonology

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the tables. As the U.S. phonological tradition generally classes /e/ and /o/ with the monophthongs, I have left them in table 2, whilst excluding the other diphthongs. Table 2. Vowel phonemes in the different varieties of PhlE vis-à-vis gAmE gAmE Phonemes

PhlE Acrolect

High Front /i/ ‘fleece, near, feel’ // ‘kit, pin, fill, happY’ Back /u/ ‘foot, cure, goose, pool’ // ‘pull’ Mid Front /e/ ‘face, fail, square’ // ‘dress, fell, pen, merry’ Central / / ‘commA’ // ‘strut’ Back /o/ ‘goat, goal’ /o/‘cloth, thought’ Low Front /æ/ ‘trap, bath, dance, hand, marry’ Central /a/ ‘lot, palm, start, power’

PhlE Mesolect

PhlE Basilect

Substitutions

free variation with [i] –

(i)

free variation with [u] –

(u)

–

(i)

–

(i)

free variation with [ ] – –

( ) ( )

free variation with [o] – –

(u) (u)

–

( )

[ ] in ‘bath’ versus [] in ‘cat’ [ ] is low back

The vowels of the acrolect group resemble those of gAmE except for PALM which is low back in the former but low central in the latter. The de-stressing of vowels rendering them [ ] or [] in rapid speech also occurs in this group. The generation study of Gonzalez, Jambalos and Romero (2003) shows the increased use of schwa in unstressed syllables. The mesolect group has six stressed vowels plus schwa. [i] (or []) is used for both KIT and FLEECE. These short vowels are in free variation with [i:]; no words are distinguished purely by length. Similarly [u] (or []) is used for both FOOT and PULL; with once again some free variation with the long vowel [u:]. [o] is used

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Ma. Lourdes G. Tayao

for both CLOTH and THOUGHT; [ ] for PALM; and schwa in free variation with [ ] for commA. The other vowels in the inventory of the mesolect variety are [E] in DRESS; [e] and ‘stressed schwa’ // in STRUT. Some differences from gAmE pronunciations occur as in [o] in model rather than [ ]; and [ ] in bag instead of [æ]. The vowels of the mesolect group are given full value even in unstressed syllables, in contrast to acrolectal norms. The basilect, on the other hand, has three vowels. [i] is used for KIT and FLEECE as well as DRESS vowels. [ ] is used for TRAP, NURSE and About. [u] is used for FOOT and GOOSE as well as for CLOTH and FORCE. Thus, in this variety, trap is pronounced [t r p], north is rendered [nurt] and nurse, [n rs]. Like those of the mesolect group, vowels in polysyllabic words are not de-stressed in the basilect. In spontaneous speech, vowel length differences between monophthongs and diphthongs are not evident in the mesolect and basilect varieties of PhlE. As far as vowel length in contrastive pairs like feel/fill and pool/pull is concerned, mesolectal speakers do produce them distinctly in focused, deliberate speech. However, in other styles [i] and [i] and [u] and [u] do not contrast; there is a slight tendency for the long vowels to be preferred under the influence of Philippine languages. 2.2.

Diphthongs

The diphthongs /au/ in MOUTH and /a/ in PRICE are present in all three varieties of PhlE. On the other hand, whereas the diphthongs /o/ in CHOICE and /e/ in FACE are present in the phonetic inventory of the acrolect and mesolect groups, the former is rendered /uj/ and /ij/ by the basilect group. Likewise the GOAT vowel occurs as [o] in the acrolect; in free variation with [o] in the mesolect; and as [u] in the basilect. PhlE is rhotic, that is /r/ is preserved after the vowels. Hence, the vowel in NEAR is pronounced [ir]; in SQUARE [er]; in START [ r]; in NORTH and FORCE [or]; in LETTER and NURSE [r] and in CURE and POOR [ur]. 2.3.

Consonants

Given in Table 3 are the consonant phonemes of the three varieties of PhlE presented also alongside those of gAmE. As in the vowel chart, categories present in gAmE, but absent in the PhlE variety, are marked by a minus sign (-) as indicated in the table and substitutions made for those absent phonemes are enclosed in parenthesis in the last column of the table.

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Table 3. Consonant phonemes in the different varieties of PhlE vis-à-vis gAmE gAmE Phonemes

PhlE Acrolect

PhlE Mesolect

PhlE Basilect

Substitutions

Stops [p t k] [b d g] Fricatives [f v]

–

[p b]

–

[t d]

[s z]

–

[s]

[S Z]

–

[sij] in initial, [s] in final position

Affricates [t
]

–

(ts)

[d]

–

(dj) in initial, (ds) in final position

[T D]

[T ~ t; ð ~ d]

[T ~ t; ð ~ d]

[h]

Nasals [m n ] Lateral [l] Retroflex liquid [r]

rolled/one-tap

rolled/one-tap

Glides [w j]

Stops P, T, K and B, D, G resemble gAmE articulation. However, though aspiration of voiceless stops in syllable-initial, stressed position is present, it is rare among the acrolect group and not evident in the mesolect and basilect varieties. Some linguists believe that the Philippine languages’ tendency to avoid syllables having just a vowel is carried over into L2 English. A glottal stop is therefore used to create a CV syllable; hence [ b ut] ‘about’.

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Ma. Lourdes G. Tayao

Fricatives F and V are present in the acrolect and mesolect but absent in the basilect, except among speakers of Philippine languages like Ibanag, which has these two fricatives in its phonetic inventory. Amongst basilectal speakers the voiceless [p] and [b] are substituted for [f] and [v] respectively. In the mesolectal group the substitution of [p] for [f] is not as frequent as of [b] for [v]. Some inconsistencies from the point of view of gAmE occur – for example, there is no distinction in the pronunciation of the prepositions of and off in PhlE, although the former calls for the use of [v] and the latter [f] in many varieties of AmE. The interdental fricatives [] and [] are likewise absent in the basilect (and in most Philippine languages). They are substituted with the alveolar stops [t] for [] and [d] for [] in the basilect; but, as Table 3 indicates, are in free variation in the other two varieties. Acrolect and mesolect speakers produce /T/ and // sounds in focused and deliberate speech. Of the sibilants [z], [
] and [], are absent in the basilect variety (as in most Philippine languages). This is an example of a split category where one phoneme in the native language, /s/, has several different distinct phoneme equivalents in the target language. Hence, among speakers of the basilect, /z/ is rendered [s], /
/ and // are pronounced [sij] in initial position and [ts] and [ds] in final position. Examples of the former are [sijur] for sure, and [sijor] for shore. Examples of the latter are [ r ds] for garage and [bus] for bush. All of the sibilants are present in the acrolect. Among the mesolect group of speakers, [z], [
], or [] are pronounced as in gAmE in word-initial, but not in word-medial or word-final position. Thus, initial /z/ in zoo is pronounced as [z] but is rendered [s] in final position as in buzz. The phoneme /
/ in word-medial and word-final positions occur as [sj] and [s] respectively; thus [lisjur] for leisure and [b s] for bash. There is final devoicing of [] in all three varieties of PhlE. This applies even to the noun plural and 3rd singular verb morphemes. Thus plays, birds and runs all have [s], rather than the voicing assimilation rule of gAmE, which would result in [z]. The same applies to the /z/ allophone of noun plurals, which occurs as [is] or [Es] – thus [b sEs] for buses, rather than [bsz] in the target language. Affricates /t
/ and /d/ are to be found in the mesolect and acrolect, but not in the basilect. Basilectal speakers produce [ts] in initial and final positions for [t
] – for example [tsip] for cheap and [w ts] for watch. /d/ is pronounced [dij] in initial position and [ds] in final position – thus [dij nitor] for janitor and [wEds] for wedge. Other consonants All three varieties of PhlE have the nasals M, N, //, the glides W, /j/ and the lateral L. R is a retroflex liquid in the acrolect, as in gAmE. In the other lects it has a

Philippine English: phonology

1055

different quality. Whereas earlier studies describe it as trilled, it is more accurate to say that it is rolled, or occurs as a single tap.

3.

Syllable structure and stress

3.1.

Syllables

Consonant clusters are rare in PhlE because of the influence of speakers L1s which favour V, CV, VC and CVC syllables. Consonant clusters of the target language are dealt with in various ways. For initial clusters beginning with /s/ the basilect group adds a vowel before /s/: [is-t rt] for start; [is-t -r t] for strut; and [is-kuwir] for square. With final clusters of /s/ + consonant all groups drop the final consonant – thus [l s] for last. An alternate rule of breaking up clusters in the basilect is via vowel epenthesis: [ku-lut] for cloth; [di-ris] for dress and [t -r p] for trap. The vowel harmony evident in the choice of epenthetic vowel follows a rule from Philippine languages. The syllable structure of most Philippine languages also accounts in part for the non-existence of syllabic consonants in the mesolect and basilect varieties of PhlE and for its rare occurrence in the acrolect. Moreover, the absence of the vowel reduction rule in those two varieties likewise precludes the production of syllabic consonants. With the first two groups, vowels are given full value even if they occur in unstressed syllables. This contrasts with the acrolect group, which observes de-stressing of vowels rendering them [] or [ ] in unstressed syllables. The absence of vowel reduction has been a stable feature of PhlE. It may be attributed to the fact that on the whole Philippine languages are syllable-timed and not stress-timed like gAmE. The basilect and mesolect groups do not produce syllabic consonants. Instead, full forms are observed [m unten] for mountain; [ rden] for garden; [litl] for little; and [b ndl] for bundle. Since Philippine languages are syllable-timed, the individual syllables of words are generally pronounced distinctly in PhlE and the de-stressing of function words is usually not observed. This syllable-timed rhythm has in fact been found to be stable in the basilect and mesolect varieties. Moreover, the stress-timed rhythm of gAmE is one reason cited for the difficulty of Filipinos to make out what native speakers of gAmE say. 3.2.

Stress

Word, sentence, and emphatic stress in PhlE were also examined to note deviations from gAmE. The findings of the studies reveal that there are words like baptism, hazardous, pedestal, utensil, dioxide, and percentage, whose word stress in all three varieties of PhlE differs from that of gAmE. Table 4 gives polysyllabic words found to be stressed differently from gAmE by all three groups.

1056 Table 4.

Ma. Lourdes G. Tayao Sample lexical items stressed differently in PhlE compared to gAmE

gAmE stress pattern 1st Syllable: colleague govern menu precinct ancestors baptism hazardous pedestal subsequent formidable

PhlE – Acrolect PhlE – Mesolect PhlE – Basilect 1st 2nd 3rd 4th 1st 2nd 3rd 4th 1st 2nd 3rd 4th * * * *

* * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * *

*

2nd

Syllable: bamboo throughout centennial committee dioxide lieutenant percentage semester utensil

1st and 3rd Syllables: adolescence antecedent rehabilitate commentary complimentary documentary 2nd and 4th Syllables: hereditary interpretative itinerary pronunciation

* * *

* * *

* *

* * *

*

*

* * *

* * * * * * * *

* * *

* * *

*

*

* *

* * * *

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * *

* *

* * * *

* * *

* * * *

* *

The table shows that of the ten words (colleague, govern, menu, precinct, ancestors, baptism, hazardous, pedestal, subsequent, and formidable) stressed on the 1st syllable in gAmE, only ancestors and subsequent were stressed by the acrolect group on the 1st syllable. The others were stressed by all three groups on the second syllable. On the other hand, nine words stressed on the second syllable in gAmE (bamboo, throughout, centennial, committee, dioxide, lieutenant, percentage, semester,

Philippine English: phonology

1057

and utensil) were stressed by the basilect group on the first syllable with the other two groups likewise stressing the last four words on the same syllable. The first five were stressed by the acrolect group on the second syllable while the mesolect group did so only with the words lieutenant and centennial. Regarding the six words stressed on the first and third syllables in gAmE, with main stress on the third, (adolescence, antecedent, rehabilitate, commentary, complimentary, and documentary), the first four were stressed on only one syllable by all three groups in PhlE, the second syllable for the first three words and the first syllable for the fourth. With the acrolect group, the last two words in the set – complimentary and documentary – were stressed on the first and third syllables following gAmE pronunciation but the other two groups stressed them only on the third. Concerning the final set of words, hereditary, interpretative, itinerary and pronunciation, which are stressed on the second and fourth syllables in gAmE, all three groups stressed the first word on the first syllable. The acrolect group stressed the next two words following gAmE pronunciation and so did the mesolect group with the word interpretative, which the basilect group stressed on the first syllable. The word hereditary was also stressed by the mesolect and basilect groups on the first syllable. Whereas the basilect group stressed the last word, pronunciation as per gAmE pronunciation, the other two groups stressed the first and fourth syllables instead. Other gAmE word stress patterns not found in PhlE are contrasts made between number words ending in –teen and those ending in –ty (e.g. *thirty vs. thirteen); between words that may be used as nouns or as verbs (a rebel vs. to re*bel); noun compounds in contrast to phrasal or compound verbs (a *drop-out vs. to drop out) noun compounds as contrasted with adjective + noun combinations (*sewing machine vs. sweet-smelling *flowers). Some trends concerning word stress in PhlE among the mesolect and basilect groups may be pointed out, but these will warrant further investigation and verification. With the addition of affixes to form 4- or 5-syllable words (e.g. commentary and centenary), the mesolect and basilect tend to put the stress on the penultimate syllable. The two varieties tend to favour stressing the 2nd syllable in 4- or 5-syllable words (e.g. formidable and rehabilitate). For some words that have both a primary and secondary stress (e.g. cemetery, commentary), there is a tendency in the two groups to interchange the two, placing the primary stress where the secondary should be and vice versa, an observation also noted in previous studies (e.g. Llamzon 1969). Where sentence stress is concerned, the acrolect and mesolect more often than not stress the last content word in breath groups, but this is not apparent in the basilect group who would stress function words or even two words instead of just one in a breath group. Also absent from the basilect variety, but present in the acrolect and mesolect groups is the use of contrastive and emphatic stress.

1058 4.

Ma. Lourdes G. Tayao

Intonation

The use of three intonation patterns was scrutinised in studies of Philippine phonology. These were the final and non-final 2-3-3 rising intonation, the non-final 2-3-2 rising-falling (back-to-normal) intonation, and the final 2-3-1 rising-falling (down-to-fade out) intonation. In keeping with the final intonation patterns in most Philippine languages, one of the stable features noted in PhlE is the use of the final rising-falling intonation in statements and the final rising intonation in questions. No distinction is made in the final intonation of wh-questions and yes-no questions in PhlE, although Gonzalez and Alberca (1978) noted the use of the rising intonation in the former and the rising-falling in the latter. This stands in direct contrast to the final intonation patterns of gAmE. In the latter final rising intonation is generally used in yes-no questions while final rising-falling intonation is used in wh- questions, in yes-no tag questions seeking confirmation, and in statements. However, it must be conceded that even gAmE norms are in flux here, with the increase of ‘high rise terminals’ in ordinary statements. Concerning non-final intonation, three uses of the non-final 2-3-3 rising intonation were examined. These were the obligatory use of the non-final rising intonation on nominatives of address and on the non-final options in alternatives, and the optional use at the end of subordinate clauses appearing in sentence-initial position. Gonzalez, Jambalos and Romero’s generational study (2003) noted an increase in the use of non-final rising intonation in alternatives and in a series, in line with expectations of Target Language speakers. This, however, has yet to be established as a stable phonetic feature of PhlE. My own data show the use of nonfinal rising intonation in nominatives of address to be non-existent in the basilect variety, rare in the mesolect and occasional in the acrolect.

5.

Conclusion

The study of PhlE phonology is an important one, since its ‘target’ is AmE, rather than BrE, in contrast to most other ‘New English’ varieties in Africa and Asia. Furthermore, the substrate languages form an important counter-influence. The generational studies of Gonzalez, Jambalos and Romero (2003) forms a solid basis for charting out future developments in PhlE.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM.

Philippine English: phonology

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Alberca, Wilfredo L. 1978 The distinctive features of Philippine English in the mass media. Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of Santo Tomas, Manila. Bautista, Ma. Lourdes S. 2000 Studies of Philippine English in the Philippines. Philippine Journal of Linguistics 31: 39–65. Casambre, Nelia G. 1986 What is Filipino English? Philippine Journal for Language Teaching 14: 34– 49. Cummins, Jim and Merril Swain 1986 Bilingualism in Education: Aspects of Theory, Research and Practice. London: Longman Gonzalez, Andrew 1985 Studies on Philippine English. Singapore: SEAMEO Regional Language Centre. 1997 The history of English in the Philippines. In: Ma. Lourdes S. Bautista (ed.) English is an Asian Language: The Philippine Context, 25–40. Sydney: The Macquarie Library. Gonzalez, Andrew and Alberca, Wilfredo L. 1978 Philippine English of the Mass Media (preliminary edition). Manila: De La Salle University Research Council. Gonzalez, Andrew, Thelma V. Jambalos and Ma. Corona S. Romero 2003 Three Studies on Philippine English across Generations: Towards an Integration and Some Implications, Manila: Linguistic Society of the Philippines. Llamzon, Teodoro A. 1969 Standard Filipino English. Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press. 1997 The Phonology of Philippine English. In: Ma. Lourdes S. Bautista (ed.) English is an Asian Language: The Philippine Context, 41–48. Sydney: The Macquarie Library. McKaughan, Howard P. 1993. Towards a Standard Philippine English. Philippine Journal of Linguistics 24: 41–55. Sta. Ana, Alan 1983 English in the Philippines across generations: A pilot study. Unpublished masters’ thesis, Ateneo de Manila University, Quezon City.

Synopsis: phonological variation in the British Isles Clive Upton

1.

Introduction

Drawn together here, in outline, is information central to the phonetic and phonological variation to be found in the varieties of English spoken in the British Isles, as described in detail in the chapters written by the contributors to this work. All varieties are taken to be the same in kind. However, whilst most are regional, two (British Creole and Received Pronunciation) are not in fact to be geographically placed, and some of those that are regional cover much larger territories than others. Treatment is inevitably ‘broad brush’, so that the summary is to be taken more as an introductory index to the descriptions than as a description in its own right. Where, as is for example especially the case for the national varieties of Scotland, Wales, and Ireland, there are marked internal differences to be taken account of, these are necessarily in large measure masked here. Readers should therefore take this summary as a starting point, and must refer to the relevant chapters themselves in order fully to appreciate the richness of present variation throughout the region. Predictably, most phonological differences between varieties concern the vowel systems and realizations. As is quite customary for the British varieties, both qualitative and quantitative vowel distinctions are made, the quantitative ones resulting in the holding of categories of “short” and “long” vowels, along with diphthongs, and unstressed vowels. Each of these categories provides a major section of the summary: the convention of lexical sets, as employed in the chapters themselves to give order to vocalic variation, is maintained in this summary, and the keywords for those sets furnish the headings for the various sub-sections in which the vowels are discussed. Consonants, prosody and intonation will be discussed in the last two sections.

2.

Short vowels

2.1.

KIT

Widely throughout the British Isles, the realisation of this vowel is [I]. This feature occurs in all varieties and is quite usual in all but Orkney and Shetland, where lowering and centralizing, heard variably also in Northern England and the Channel Islands, is to be expected. Lowering of the vowel to [e] is a feature of Urban

1064

Clive Upton

Northern Irish, and this or an even lower and more retracted vowel is a feature of Urban Scots. A tense [i] is characteristic of the West Midlands, and may be heard in East Anglia and British Creole too. 2.2.

DRESS

This vowel is rendered most widely as half open front, [E], the only characteristic exception occurring in South-east England, where [e] is the norm: [e] can also be heard in the West Midlands and, retracted, in British Creole. Raising from [E] is found in the Channel Islands, East Anglia, Urban Scots, and Orkney and Shetland, and lowering occurs in urban Northern Irish. 2.3.

TRAP

Principal variants for TRAP are [a] and [Q], these serving to some extent as markers of north-south variation. [Q] is most characteristic of Ireland, East Anglia and the Channel Islands: it is also characteristic of Southern England, although [a] is becoming widespread in this area also. [a] is usual in Orkney and Shetland, in most of the accents of Scotland (where retraction is usual for Urban Scots), and the North of England, with the English Midlands showing some considerable [a][Q] variability. In the non-regional British Creole and RP accents, both [a] and [Q] occur: in RP, [Q] is traditional, whereas [a] is the usual modern realisation. 2.4.

LOT, CLOTH

Quite considerable variability is to be heard with the LOT vowel, both between and within accent-types. [ç] is widely heard in Orkney, Shetland, Scotland, and Wales, and is a feature of Fashionable Dublin speech in Ireland, contrasting with a Colloquial Dublin (and Irish Rural Western) [a], a feature also of British Creole; [ç] might be found too in Creole, and in the West Midlands. [Å], the sound in RP, is also usual regionally throughout England outside the South-west and East Anglia, where [A] is also reported, as it is across southern Ireland as a ‘supraregional’ form. Besides being found in Ireland, [a] can be heard in Creole too. The same distribution of variants exists essentially for CLOTH as for LOT: [ç˘], formerly widely heard before fricatives in Southern England, is still to be heard in the speech of older working-class East Anglians, and is a feature of the most conservative type of traditional RP. Creole exhibits variability in terms of length of [a], with CLOTH exhibiting length, and [A] also occurs in CLOTH in this accent.

Synopsis: phonological variation in the British Isles

2.5.

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STRUT

This vowel exhibits a celebrated variation which is frequently offered as marking the distinction between the accents of Northern and Southern England: Northern English typically has [U] (the FOOT vowel) here, whilst Southern and East Anglian English has somewhat fronted [√] or the centralised [å], this resulting in the North retaining what is the traditional five-vowel system of short vowels while the South has six. [√] is typical of RP: an innovation here and in the accents of some English regional speakers towards a raised and retracted variant at or approaching [F] may be seen as a move towards a compromise between the two extremes. Illustrative of its border status between North and South, the West Midlands have considerable variation in realisations of this vowel, tending however towards the Northern [U] and ‘compromise’ [F]. Elsewhere in the British Isles [√], centralised in Ireland and Wales, is widespread, with [ç] occurring in Orkney and Shetland, the Channel Islands, and British Creole. 2.6.

FOOT

[U] is the very widespread British Isles realisation here, occurring in the varieties of all regions other than Orkney, Shetland and Scotland, and in Creole and RP. In Orkney, Shetland, and Scotland, a tensed [u] is heard, central or even fronted in Scotland according largely to the social profile of the speaker, with FOOT and GOOSE tending to fall together in these accents. The tensed central [u] is also found in British Creole, and in Northern Ireland, testimony to the close links of that area with Scotland. A fronted [Y] is heard in South-west England. Hypercorrection resulting from unease about the status of the STRUT [U] seems to underlie realizations of FOOT as [F] and [´] in Northern and West Midland England.

3.

Long vowels

3.1.

FLEECE

The underlying quality of the FLEECE vowel is that of [i(˘)] throughout the region. However, this is not always purely monophthongal, a frequent tendency being towards a short upgliding diphthong [Ii]. In the North of England, the West Midlands and South-east England, wider diphthongs [´I] or [eI~EI] are found. 3.2.

BATH

Like TRAP and STRUT, this vowel creates something of a marker of north-south distinction. Unlike the latter, however, there is little tendency for speakers to compromise in an attempt to move towards a perceived prestige. A consequence of this

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is the existence of RP variability which sees Southern speakers using [A˘] while Northern speakers use [a] in an otherwise uniform system. [a] is, in fact, the principal form from Orkney and Shetland, through Scotland and Northern England into the West Midlands where, true to the transitional nature of that region, there is considerable mixing with the longer, backed South-eastern regional norm, [A˘]. In South-west England [a] categorically has partial or full length, as it does characteristically in Southern Ireland and in Wales. In something of an inversion of the situation in England, however, Northern Ireland exhibits [A], with variable length. 3.3.

PALM, START

In South-east England and the Channel Islands, as in RP, the vowel of these sets is [A˘], this being found variably with [a˘] and [Å˘] in the North of England and with [Å˘] in the West Midlands. [a˘] is the usual variant in South-west England and Wales (here with [A˘]), and this or a retracted form is usual in East Anglia. Both [A˘] and [a˘] occur in British Creole and, with variable length, in Irish varieties. Scottish accents exhibit [a], sometimes retracted, in PALM, and [a˘], sometimes retracted, or a close variety of [E˘] in START, lengthening in the rhotic environment according to the ‘Scottish Vowel Length Rule’. 3.4.

GOOSE

The dominant realisation of the GOOSE vowel is essentially [u(˘)] everywhere in the region, with fronting in varying degrees being a very common tendency. [Y] can be found in Urban Scots and [Y˘] in more conservative rural speech in South-west England. A tendency towards short diphthongs exists in Northern England ([Uu]), East Anglia and South-east England ([Uu]), and the West Midlands ([çU~´u]). 3.5.

THOUGHT, NORTH, FORCE

[ç˘] is a widespread realisation for these vowels, with a short vowel in THOUGHT in Scotland. [ç˘] is frequently diphthongised to [ç´] in South-east England, where [o˘] is otherwise usual, as it is in Scotland in FORCE and, variably, in NORTH. [ç˘] and [o˘] co-occur in the Channel Islands and British Creole, and [ç˘] and [Å˘] in Northern England for all three vowels (with [a˘] in THOUGHT and [o˘] in NORTH and FORCE). NORTH and FORCE exhibit the characteristic if recessive feature of [U´] in North-east England. There is marked variation within Irish accents. THOUGHT exhibits a range of rounded and unrounded back vowels and, in popular Dublin speech, [a˘]; NORTH vowels similarly are [ç˘], [A˘], [Å˘] and [a˘]. FORCE exhibits predominantly [o˘] and [ç˘], with [Å˘] in popular Dublin. An off-glide is not uncommon with non-rhotic accents.

Synopsis: phonological variation in the British Isles

3.6.

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NURSE

Considerable variability occurs in this vowel throughout the British Isles, though it may be very broadly summed up as consisting of [‘]in rhotic areas of Ireland and South-west England and [Œ˘/´˘] in the rest of the region, excluding Scotland. Most notable additions to this broad distinction are [ç], found in Orkney and Shetland, and a full NURSE/NORTH merger on this retracted form in the speech of some older speakers in North-east England, where a fronted variant [O] has recently been identified in the speech of younger, mainly female, speakers. [ø˘] occurs in Wales and variably in the West Midlands. Rhotic Scottish accents exhibit [√] (Scottish Standard English) and either [√] or [E] (Urban Scots). NURSE and SQUARE also fall together for many speakers in Liverpool, with words from either set being pronounced with [Œ˘] or [E˘]. [E˘] is also a feature of Hull and Teesside speech in Northern England, although SQUARE does not allow of [Œ˘] in those places.

4.

Diphthongs

4.1.

FACE

The principal distinction here is between monophthongal realisations in the Northern British Isles and Ireland and diphthongal realisations from the Midlands southwards, though there is variability within this scheme. Whilst [e(˘)] is general in Scotland, Ireland, Wales, and the North of England, as well as being found in the speech of some speakers of British Creole, it occurs with [eI] in Shetland and, for some words in the set, in Wales. Diphthongal forms elsewhere range from [eI] in RP and the Channel Islands to [EI] in South-west and [√I] in South-east England, [EI/√I/QI] in the West Midlands, and [eI/Qi] in East Anglia. To be compared with [U´] in GOAT, North-east England has a most distinctive diphthongal FACE vowel, in [I´]. 4.2.

PRICE

A wide range of open onsets can be identified for this diphthong, although, with the exception of British Creole with two diphthongs [AE/Ae], end-points are at the front close position. [aI], typical of traditional RP, is recorded in Orkney and Shetland, Southern Ireland, Wales, Northern and Midland England: a higher onset, at [Q], occurs in the Rural West of Ireland, and yet higher, at [E], in the Rural North of Ireland and for some North of England speakers. In Southern England and the Channel Islands, among younger East Anglian speakers, and in Fashionable Dublin speech, [AI], with a lip-spread back open onset, is heard. A lip-rounded back open position, [Å], is the start for the diphthong for some West Midland ([ÅI/çI]),

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Cockney (London), and Channel Island speakers, and is a stereotyped feature for South-west England. Current RP, along with Standard Scottish English and some Channel Islands speech, has [√I]. The diphthong begins centrally, with [å/Œ/´], for some speakers on Shetland, in Urban Scots, in Popular Dublin speech, and amongst older East Anglians. Monophthongal [a˘] has been reported for Devon in South-west England, and [A˘] is a feature of south and west Yorkshire (as well as the East Midlands immediately to the south of that area), while [i˘] is characteristic of the pronunciation of some words in this set, such as right and night in Yorkshire and North-east England. 4.3.

CHOICE

[çI] is very usual for this diphthong, being found in RP and (sometimes with a more tense high front end-point) in the accents of all areas other than Scotland, where [çe] occurs, and South-west England, which produces [oI]. [oI] can also be heard in Fashionable Dublin speech, in the English West Midlands, and in South-east England. Fully-open back onsets for the diphthongs, giving [ÅI/AI], are characteristic of a range of accents found in Southern and Western Ireland, in Northern and West Midland England, and in the Channel Islands. In East Anglia pronunciations across the range from [çi] to [Ui] can be heard. British Creole, with [çI/ai], also exhibits [çE]. 4.4.

MOUTH

South of Scotland, MOUTH is generally represented by a glide from low front to high back, with an extreme range of [au], taking in onsets from [a] to [E] and endpoints from [U] to [u] and [u]. [aU] is the diphthong in RP, and is found in British Creole with [çU] and [Q´]. Scotland has [√u], Shetland has [√U], and Orkney [´U], while all three share monophthongal [u(˘)] with northernmost Northern England. Also in the North of England, parts of west and south Yorkshire have [a˘], while in the South London Cockney exhibits [Q˘]. 4.5.

GOAT

Somewhat in parallel with the situation in FACE, a basic distinction here is between monophthongal realisations in the North of the region and diphthongal realisations in the South. [o(˘)] occurs in Shetland, Scotland, (rural) Ireland, Wales, and the North of England (where innovative ‘GOAT-fronting’ to [P˘] is occurring), and in British Creole. Orkney has [ç]. Besides monophthongal realisations, Ireland has the RP-like [´U] in Fashionable Dublin and supra-regional Southern accents, [√U] in Popular Dublin speech, and the traditional RP [oU] also across Southern

Synopsis: phonological variation in the British Isles

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accents: this is also a feature shared with many speakers in Northern and West Midland England, and in Wales. In Northern England, the North-east traditionally has [U´], to be compared to [I´] in FACE. Principal vernacular diphthongs in Southern Britain are [√U] in the South-east, [çU] in the South-west and Channel Islands, and [oU/EU/aU/√U] in the West Midlands. East Anglia has [åu/Uu], and British Creole narrow diphthongs in the range [uo/U´/´o]. 4.6.

NEAR

In most rhotic accents of the British Isles, those of Scotland, Ireland, and the Southwest of England, the realisation of NEAR is typically as a high front monophthong, invariably of a tensed variety. Diphthongisation elsewhere is usually to [i´], with varying degrees of tenseness for the onset: a relaxed onset at [I] is found in RP and one of the variants for British Creole (which also has available [ie(r)/iE(r)] in rhotic variants), while [e´/E´] also occur in the West Midlands. East Anglia has [e˘/E˘], creating a NEAR/SQUARE merger. 4.7.

SQUARE

Rhoticity in Scotland and Ireland is typically on a lengthened half-closed monophthong, [e(˘)] SQUARE vowel, this co-existing with half-open [E] in Orkney and Shetland and Urban Scots, and being the norm in Popular Dublin speech. [E(˘)] is also the form in rhotic South-west England. The Irish Rural North differs from the South in having [´(˘)]. Rhoticity in British Creole is attended by diphthongs [ie/iE]. In other, non-rhotic, accents the most usual regional form is a centring diphthong with half-open front onset, or a long half-open monophthong, [E´/E˘]. [E˘] is found also in RP (as distinct from the traditional RP diphthongal [e´]) and, with [e˘], in the absence of rhoticity in British Creole. Characteristic of Liverpool, and found more widely in the Lancashire area, is [Œ˘] (compare NURSE), a similar sound being recorded slightly further south in the west Midlands too. 4.8.

CURE

Rhotic accents of Scotland and Ireland and South-west England typically have [u(˘)], with Orkney and Shetland showing [u´]. [u´/U´] is also usual over much of non-rhotic Britain, with a tendency to a disyllabic [(I)uw´] in Wales. A comparatively recent innovation in RP for the CURE vowel is [ç˘], and this is also found in accents characteristic of Northern and West Midland England and, with [o˘], in British Creole. Unlike other accents of the British Isles, where the phenomenon of ‘yod-deletion’ (see section 7.3. below) has only limited application, the accent of East

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Anglia has no [j] before /u˘/ after any consonant: this, together with a realisation of the CURE vowel as [Œ˘/´˘], results in such homophones as cure/cur.

5.

Weak vowels

5.1.

happY

Tense [i], in some cases with length, is a feature of most British English accents, and, having become the norm in RP (as distinct from traditional RP, where [I] might sometimes be expected), is increasingly found in the North of England, where the slack vowel to and including [E] has been a feature of vernacular speech. [e] is the vowel in Scotland and Rural Northern Ireland (in the latter alongside [I]). Both [I] and [i] are found in British Creole. 5.2.

lettER

A central vowel, predominantly [´], occurs in both non-rhotic and rhotic accents in the British Isles, exceptions being that some speakers of British Creole have [a] alongside [å], and Scotland exhibits [I/√]. Alongside [´], Wales has [√] and the Channel Islands [ø]. 5.3.

horsES

The horsES vowel is mainly [I] in the British Isles, though a central vowel is the norm in Shetland, Ireland and East Anglia, and both [I] and [´] can be expected in Northern England. 5.4.

commA

The central vowel [´] occurs throughout most of the British Isles for commA. An open central vowel [å] is heard in Shetland and Popular Dublin, and sometimes in the North of England, in some cases fronted and lowered to [a] in Orkney and in British Creole. Scotland and Wales have [√].

6.

Vowel distribution

The Scottish Vowel Length Rule, describing lengthening of certain vowels before /r/, a voiced fricative, or a morpheme boundary, is explained in the chapter on Scottish phonology. That vowel length is environmentally determined rather than being intrinsic to the vowel results in the absence from transcriptions of the relevant varieties of that quantitative contrast which is customarily applied in the

Synopsis: phonological variation in the British Isles

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description of British English vowel sets. Although a slightly recessive feature, the Rule operates widely in Scotland itself, in Orkney and Shetland, and in the accents of England bordering Scotland. It is also a factor in some forms of Northern Irish English, but not in the English of the Irish Republic. Undoubtedly the most marked absence of contrast in the British Isles vocalic system is that of TRAP and BATH in Scotland and Northern England, and in some instances of accents in Ireland, Wales, and Orkney and Shetland. Both are typically at the low front position, or slightly retracted from it: so distinct a marker of northernness is this feature that in Northern and northern West Midland England those speakers whose accent converges on RP are nevertheless most unlikely to abandon it, so that it is necessary to include BATH [a] in the RP inventory in order to avoid any judgement of Southern bias in what is in essence a regionless accent. FOOT/GOOSE merger is a feature of Scotland, Orkney and Shetland, and of some Northern Irish accents associated with Scotland through settlement. The merger is also a feature of Northern and West Midland English accents outside the Northeast, for a very limited set of lexical items and essentially amongst older speakers. LOT and THOUGHT also merge in Scotland, Orkney and Shetland, and this phenomenon can be found in some conservative Rural Irish accents too. Some merger of LOT and STRUT on [Å] is encountered in the West Midlands. In Northern England, homophony occurs between NURSE and SQUARE in Liverpool, where both sets can be rendered with [E˘] or [Œ˘], and, to the extent that NURSE is variably rendered [E˘], in the Hull and Middlesbrough areas of the east of the region. Whilst NEAR and SQUARE are distinct sets in the south of the East Anglia area, they merge on [e˘/E˘] in the northern part, and they are at times homophonous in the West Midlands on [I´/E´].

7.

Consonants

7.1.

Stops: /P/T/K/ , /B/D/G

Word-initial voiceless stops are aspirated in the varieties of Ireland and England. There is some evidence that aspiration is weaker in Scotland. Strong aspiration approaching affrication is a feature in the whole of Wales, especially the north. Glottalisation of intervocalic and word-final /t/ occurs everywhere in the British Isles, with considerable frequency: /p/ and /k/ are also glottalised, though not as regularly as is /t/. /t/ and /d/ are generally dental in Shetland, and tend to have fronted or dental articulation in Scotland. This is also a feature of the English accents of mid and northern Wales. Affrication of /t/ is reported as a special feature of Dublin speech in Ireland, and is, with affrication of /p/ and /k/, very prevalent in the Liverpool area of Northern England. Affrication of /k/ and /g/ before front vowels is also characteristic of accents

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of limited areas of Orkney and Shetland. Lenicisation of intervocalic /t/ is strongly evidenced in South-west England and is also found in Ireland and widely in the rest of England, while strong aspiration of /p, t, k/ is noted for the whole of Wales. A flap or tap, [R], is part of a complex of allophones of /t/ in Ireland and Northern and Midland England, and of British Creole, though the sociolinguistics of this feature varies markedly between regions, as do other likely precise realisations. There is a tendency towards unvoicing of word-final /d/ in the English of Wales where Welsh is spoken. 7.2.

Fricatives: TH, F/V, S/Z, SH/ZH, H, CH, etc.

Initial Fricative Voicing, in which /f, T, s, S/ are realised as [v, D, z, Z] word-initially, is a particular feature of South-west England, and is also to be found in southern, and especially south-western, Wales: it is a highly recessive element in the accents of both areas. TH-stopping, both voiced and voiceless, rendering this thing [dIs tIN], occurs in British Creole, and also as a highly stigmatised feature throughout Ireland: its occasionally reported presence in Glasgow might be as a result of influence from Ireland. Fronting of /S/ is found in Shetland and Scotland. Unvoicing of medial and word-final /z/ occurs in the English accents of those regions of Wales where Welsh is widely spoken. Interference from Welsh phonology is the cause. Initial H-deletion is variable throughout Wales and England, generally taken as a feature of working-class speech. It is also found in the Channel Islands, in part perhaps as a result of influence from metropolitan French, and in British Creole, where, as a recessive feature, presence or absence of syllable-initial [h] can mark degrees of emphasis. Characteristically Scottish /x/ in, for example, loch, is increasingly becoming [k] in Urban Scots, although [x] remains the widespread realisation otherwise in Scotland, and is also found in Northern Ireland. Welsh and occur only occasionally in Welsh English outside the pronunciation of placenames, but, when they do, they may be expected to have their Welsh-language values of [¬] and [x] respectively. 7.3.

Semi-vowels: W/WH, J

Word-initial WH realised by the voiceless labial-velar fricative [„] is a recognised feature of Irish and Scottish speech, and of that of the most northerly parts of England. There is evidence that this is a recessive feature in all these accents, however. Its recessive nature in RP is signified by its status as a feature of the Refined and, variably, the traditional varieties of that accent only. Apparently due to the influence of Welsh phonology, initial /w/ is occasionally dropped in Welsh English before close back rounded vowels.

Synopsis: phonological variation in the British Isles

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Yod-dropping is one of the most distinctive characteristics of northern East Anglian speech, where /j/ is absent before /u:/ after all consonants. The feature is reported in more limited measure in Ireland, Wales, the West Midlands and the South of England. 7.4.

Sonorants: N, L, R

In a feature known as ‘velar nasal plus’, velar nasal /N/ is realised as [Ng] in all words with spelling in the English West Midlands, this designation in this case covering an extended area stretching from Birmingham in the south to Liverpool and Sheffield in the north. The feature is by no means categorical, co-existing with both [N] and, in -morpheme representations, [n] realisation: the alveolar nasal [n] for /N/ is widespread in Northern and West Midland English as a stigmatised feature. /n/ is fronted in Shetland, Scotland, and mid and northern Wales. RP has clear [l] before a vowel and dark […] before a consonant or pause. Whilst this essential pattern might also be expected to occur in some regional varieties, considerable complexity does also occur in distributions of clear and dark /l/ regionally, with a general trend being a move from clear to dark as one moves from North to South within England, and post-vocalic /l/ frequently being vocalised in the South-east. The clear-to-dark trend is reversed in Wales, where [l] is more characteristic of the south and […] of the north in all positions. Dark […] is a feature of Scottish English, and vocalisation exists as both historically- and modern sociolinguistically-conditioned features. There is an essential division between the principal rhotic areas of the British Isles, situated in Scotland, Ireland, South-west England and part of Northern England centred on southern Lancashire, and the non-rhotic areas of the majority of England and Wales. However, rhoticity is not categorical in rhotic regions; Northumberland in Northern England, the English of Welsh-speaking areas of Wales, parts of southern Wales with close cultural links with South-west England, and the Channel Islands also display the feature to varying degrees. Phonetic realisations of /r/ vary widely: in Scotland postalveolar [®], retroflex [”] and tap or flap [R] are variably found, their presence determined by phonetic environments and sociolinguistics, and Ireland has [®] and [”]; /r/ in England is generally postalveolar or retroflex, with a characteristic uvular variety surviving in Northumberland; and uvular [“] is also found as a rare form in north Wales. Intrusive /r/ is normal in non-rhotic areas.

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8.

Prosodic and intonational features

Distinctive in the area of East Anglia pronunciation is the tendency for stressed vowels to be lengthened, with any unstressed vowel being correspondingly reduced to [´] or even disappearing. This is in marked contrast to the even syllable stressing which is characteristic of North-east England. Especially amongst older Channel Islands speakers, stressing occurs which presents as being distinctly non-native: this might involve reversal of patterns typical of RP, or heavier syllable stressing than might otherwise be expected. Stress shifts are quite usual in polysyllabic verbs (only) in Irish English. It is frequently remarked that Welsh English has a particularly lilting (or, more pejoratively, a ‘sing-song’) intonation pattern, an observation that is also made concerning Orkney speech. Recent observations on an apparent causal post-tonic rise in pitch in Welsh English ties the feature to a corresponding feature in Welsh. This high terminal intonation might also regularly be encountered in Ireland and in Northern and South-eastern England: the extent to which the high tone is rising or at a plateau is variable across accents, with that of North-eastern England being recorded as the latter and that of Glasgow as the former. In Scotland outside Glasgow, statements in most accents show a falling intonation. The extent to which the feature of terminal intonational raising is related across different regions is currently unclear.

Synopsis: phonological variation in the Americas and the Caribbean Edgar W. Schneider

1.

Introduction

This chapter attempts to survey and systematize the phonetic and phonological variability that can be observed in North America and the Caribbean. No fundamental distinction is drawn between dialectal and creole varieties beforehand – such a division has been questioned in recent research, and it would seem to be even less called for on the level of phonetics and phonology than on the level of morphosyntax, where, based on earlier research, the presupposition of existing differences seems more justified. In categorizing the wide range of possible pronunciation phenomena, I start out from the listing of feature categories as suggested originally to future contributors, and I adopt a categorization scheme based upon traditional articulatory classifications. Basically, I distinguish between vowels, consonants, and prosodic features. Given that most of the variability to be observed concerns vowels, this broad category needs to be further subdivided, although any such categorization on the basis of observed variation turns out to be problematic: Given that processes of diphthongization/monophthongization, lengthening/shortening (or blurring of quantity distinctions), fronting/backing, and raising/lowering are almost ubiquitous, any categorization is bound to leak. Hence, for purely practical reasons, to enable comparisons on a global scale in the present context, I employ an RP-based scheme of vowel types, distinguishing between “short” vowels (which can also be called “checked”, many of which are also “lax”), “long” (or free, frequently described as tense) vowels, diphthongs, and unstressed vowels. As a general reference system in this project context, it was decided (and authors were instructed) to employ Wells’ (1982) system of “lexical sets”, meant to identify vowel types in specific contexts without having to go into the knotty issue of whether or not these are phonemic in any given variety. I am grateful to the contributors to this volume for having accepted this procedure despite the fact that in the American academic context this system is less widely accepted (and perhaps more difficult to accommodate) than in a British-based perspective. It should also be noted that this system was not imposed slavishly. Contributors were advised and authorized to adopt and expand it when this was felt to be necessary for a reliable coverage of their respective variety, i.e. either to use some of the items which Wells suggests in a “reserve list” or to replace target words by others of their own choice. This was felt to be necessary especially in the

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cases of creole varieties, where some of Wells’ key word are not lexicalized (but the respective vowel can be identified using an alternative lexical item) or where the phonological system of sounds, in the perspective of the English superstrate input, has been restructured substantially. The following discussion starts out from authors’ responses to a feature list of possible phonetic processes that I devised and that was provided to the contributors as a stimulus for these categorizations; this feature list underlies the interactive phonological maps on the accompanying CD-ROM. Further details and comparative statements are then based upon the articles in this volume. By necessity, a survey of the present kind needs to ignore many aspects and to abstract from idiosyncracies to reach a more global picture. Readers interested in phonetic details and distributional specifics are warned to be cautious, to take the statements below with a grain of salt, and to check the original sources for more accurate and locally relevant information.

2.

“Short” vowels

2.1.

KIT

Throughout North America and the Caribbean the KIT vowel is a “canonical” high front short [
], with relatively little variability. Most notably, in Southern dialect (and, consequently, to some extent in AAVE) this vowel can be “drawled” by adding a centralizing offglide, but in the new urban South the drawl, also with this vowel, is regarded as recessive. Raising and fronting to [i] occurs in SurCs, JamE and, conditionally, in NfldE and some contact varieties (CajE, ChcE, JamC, and T&TC [henceforth, this abbreviation is taken to refer to the entire continuum of Trinidad, usually including the mesolectal and acrolectal forms of Tobago but set off against basilectal TobC]); this tensing is also a part of the “Southern Shift”. Centralizing to [] is not the norm anywhere but may occur in the dialects of Philadelphia (henceforth abbreviated as PhilE), the inland North (henceforth InlNE), the South (henceforth SAmE), in JamE, and in T&TC and TobC. Centralization of KIT is spreading as an element of the “Northern Cities Shift”. Lowering of this vowel to [] seems to be a recent innovation of California speech and of young Canadians. 2.2.

DRESS

Equally generally, the DRESS vowel is a half-open short []. Again, offgliding is characteristically and exclusively southern, normally centralizing to [] but possibly also raising to [
]. In InlNE, CanE, AAVE and T&TC the vowel may be backed, and in California and among young Canadians the vowel may be lowered to [æ].

Synopsis: phonological variation in the Americas and the Caribbean

2.3.

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TRAP

The TRAP vowel serves to globally distinguish North American dialects, where it is realized as a slightly raised front [æ], from Caribbean varieties, which have a low front [a] (except for the Turks and Caicos Islands, apparently). Further raising to mid-front positions (an element of the “Northern Cities Shift”) may be observed in some dialects of southern and eastern North America (SAmE, PhilE, InlNE, New York City [henceforth NYCE], younger speakers of New England dialect [henceforth NEngE], NfldE, BahE, and ChcE). In contrast, lowering to [a] and also backing appears in California and also, as the most salient element of a chain shift labeled “Canadian Shift”, among young Ontario speakers. This vowel is more prone to diphthongization with a centralizing offglide, normal in SAmE (though, again, recessive in urban environments) and AAVE and possible in a wider range of mostly mainland dialects (PhilE, InlNE, NYCE, NEngE, NfldE, and ChcE, as well as T&TC). 2.4.

STRUT

Realizations of the STRUT vowel are highly variable. In North American dialects (but also Baj), it is typically a relatively back, unrounded and slightly raised [√] (exclusively in NEngE, CanE and CajE) or a more central [å] or [] (predominantly in SAmE). A backed realization of this vowel, roughly as [ç], characterizes the Caribbean (SurC, JamE/C, TobC, BahE, Eastern Caribbean islands, also T&TC) and Gullah and can also be found in NEngE and, as part of the “Northern Cities Shift”, InlNE. Except for traces in ChcE and possibly as a recent innovation in PhilE, raising of this vowel to [] (or [u] in PhilE) is not normally heard in America. A rounded realization, [ç_], is a regional variant within NfldE. 2.5.

LOT, CLOTH

AmE LOT is typically a low back unrounded vowel, [A], though rounded [] may come up in the West and Midwest (henceforth WMwE), in NEngE and CanE, as well as, in the Caribbean, in JamE, Baj and T&TC. On the other hand, Caribbean creoles (e.g. JamC, TobC, SurCs) more typically realize this vowel as a front unrounded [a], a pronunciation which also characterizes AAVE, ChcE and NfldE and which can at times also be observed in InlNE and CajE. Offglides with this vowel are reported as normal in Gullah and possible in NYCE and CanE. The vowel of CLOTH, on the other hand, is more commonly rounded than unrounded (the latter variant characterizes NEngE, AAVE, ChcE, parts of the Midwest and TobC). In this case, [a] is found in CajE and NfldE, with restrictions also in ChcE.

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2.6.

FOOT

The FOOT vowel shows little variation: the canonical realization as a relatively high and back [] predominates everywhere. Possible variants are a tensed [u] in NfldE, ChcE, JamE/C and SurC, or a lowered type, close to [√], in NfldE, ChcE, and T&TC/TobC. In SAmE, mostly in urban contexts, this vowel may be fronted (as part of the “Southern Shift”) to [  ].

3.

“Long” vowels

3.1.

FLEECE

The FLEECE vowel is commonly realized as a relatively high and front, long [i ] everywhere, but in addition to this there are a number of regional alternatives. These include the possibility of shortening it (in NfldE, AAVE, ChcE, BahE, T&TC, TobC and SurC), but more commonly some sort of gliding movement results in diphthongized types. Ingliding, i.e. [i], occurs in WMwE, NYCE, NfldE, AAVE and T&TC. Alternatively, upglides can be observed, either with high onsets and relatively short gliding movements, [
i], in CanE and NfldE, or with longer glides after mid-front or central onsets, i.e. [
/ei], in NfldE or TobC. 3.2.

BATH

In almost all North American dialects the BATH class is realized as a half-open front [æ] sound. A low [a] counts as a Boston accent shibboleth and tends to be associated with NEngE in general, although it is only one of the variants found in the region and felt to be increasingly conservative; it also predominates in T&TC, Baj, TobC (together with other realizations), and SurC. CanE and BahE have both types variably. A low back [A] is possible in T&TC and some regions of New England. Raising of this vowel, together with TRAP, constitutes an element of the Northern Cities Shift, supposedly an early stage of this chain shift which may have spread from northwestern New England to cities of the Inland North. Lengthening of this vowel is generally found in TobC, JamC/E, Baj, and AAVE, and possible in PhilE, NYCE, NfldE, and T&TC. Variants with an offglide, e.g. [Q´/QI/E´], characterize SAmE (less so in younger, urban speech), AAVE, and TobC, and may be observed in InlNE, PhilE, NYCE, and NEngE. 3.3.

PALM, START

The vowel of PALM and START is a low back [A] in practically all North American dialects. A low front [a] in these lexical types is reported as the main vari-

Synopsis: phonological variation in the Americas and the Caribbean

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ant in Jam (C and E), T&T (in all lects), Baj, SurC, ChcE and Gullah (primarily in START), and NEngE in PALM, variably also for NEngE in START, InlNE and NfldE in both types, CanE in PALM, and CajE in START. An offglide in PALM, e.g. [A/], is possible in NYCE, CanE and AAVE; in START, this is common in PhilE and NYCE and possible in the South. Fronting and raising to a realization close to [æ] may occur in NfldE. 3.4.

GOOSE

The main pronunciation of GOOSE, a high, back and long vowel [u ], predominates in the entire Caribbean (with quantity playing no role in SurCs) and in western and northern dialects of AmE (including the urban staging cities of NYC and Philadelphia) but not in Canada, New England and the South. CanE and SAmE have both fronted (e.g. [¨(:)]) and diphthongal (e.g. [Uu/Iu/´(:)¨]) variants; in NEngE the latter predominate. Both types of variants can be found under certain conditions in PhilE, InlNE, WMwE (with fronting being regularly used there), and NYCE. NfldE has all three variants. With limitations, fronting can be observed in BahE, and diphthongization in ChcE. The fronting of this vowel in the South is a crucial element of the so-called “Southern Shift”. 3.5.

THOUGHT, NORTH, FORCE

For THOUGHT, the main variant is a back, half-open and rounded vowel, [ç( )], but there are some varieties in which a low variant [A ] occurs normally (CanE, NfldE, NEngE, JamC, Baj), with the other one being a possible variant in a number of instances; the West and Midwest (and also the inland North, where the higher type is preferred) have both pronunciations. Off-gliding, possibly in combination with raising of the onset, is also an option with this vowel, resulting in variants such as [ç´/U´] – regularly in SAmE, conditionally in PhilE, NYCE (where raised monophthongs may also be heard), and AAVE. In many regions of North America, in particular in the West, this vowel has merged with the LOT class (see below, section 6.). NORTH is typically realized as a half-open monophthong [ç:] in the Caribbean, in SAmE, NEngE, NfldE, Gullah and CajE. The South and CanE have a half-closed [o ] vowel as an equally strong option, a variant which predominates in WMwE, InlNE, PhilE, NYCE, AAVE, and ChcE. Lowering to [] is a conditional option in WMwE, NfldE, and T&T (all lects). A diphthongal pronunciation of this vowel, as [Å´/oa], is characteristic of NYCE and possible in NEngE, SAmE, NfldE, and ChcE. Realizations of FORCE vary between a half closed [o ], used widely in North America and the Caribbean, and a more open [ç ], which is strongest in NEngE, NfldE, CajE, and T&TCs, but also used quite widely. Ingliding diphthongal realizations, e.g. [ç´/o´/ao], are given for NYCE, AAVE and JamC, as well as, vari-

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ably, for SAmE, NEngE, CanE, CajE, and ChcE. An upglide, e.g. [oU], is typical of SAmE and possible in AAVE and NEngE. The SurCs have a low short [a] in these words, homophonous with LOT. 3.6.

NURSE

NURSE is a central vowel, [ :/‘], in all North American dialects; CajE has [√]. The Caribbean displays more variability with this vowel. JamE has mid front [E/e]; JamC, the SurCs (where [a] is also possible) and TobC prefer a backed variant [o/ç], which is also possible in T&TC, BahE, and NfldE. For Baj, a half-closed back unrounded vowel [] is cited. The mid-front variant can also be observed in TobC, BahE, and AAVE, a raised one in InlNE and TobC. Diphthongal realizations such as [
/ç
] occur in NYCE (stereotypically associated with the city dialect but stigmatized nowadays) and SAmE.

4.

Diphthongs

4.1.

FACE

The FACE vowel serves to set North American pronunciation types off from Caribbean ones quite clearly. A canonical variant, an upgliding diphthong with a half-close onset, [e
], is the main form of all North American dialects except for CajE (which has a monophthong) and SAmE, where a diphthong with a front but lower onset, [
/æ
], is cited as even more characteristic, as part of the “Southern Shift” (the low-onset variant may also occur in CanE, AAVE, and ChcE). SAmE may also have variants with a low-back ([a
/√
]) or central ([´
]) onset. The highly conspicuous main Caribbean variant of this vowel type is a long half-close monophthong [e ], the characteristic pronunciation of JamE, Baj, the T&TCs, and also Gullah, found also, as a variant, in AAVE, NfldE, the Upper Midwest, InlNE and ChcE. The prototypical basilectal pronunciation, however, the main variant of JamC (and a possibility in Baj, SAmE and NfldE) is an ingliding diphthong, [
´] or [
]. SurCs have a short vowel, homophonous with DRESS, except in word-final position, where the diphthong can occur. 4.2.

PRICE

For the PRICE vowel, the long upgliding diphthong [a
] associated with StE is found everywhere (with the exception of SurC), and in almost all varieties it is the main variant. The only dialect in which monophthongization, yielding [a ], predominates in all phonetic environments is CajE. Elsewhere this is a phonetically conditioned option: In SAmE, monophthongization is universal before voiced

Synopsis: phonological variation in the Americas and the Caribbean

1081

consonants and possible in other environments; the former, favorable context promotes it also generally in BahE and sometimes in NfldE. Two more variants are restricted options in some regions: a type with a raised or central onset, [´
/
], in WMwE, InlNE, PhilE, SAmE, NEngE, CanE (before voiceless consonants, a pattern known as “Canadian Raising”), NfldE, AAVE, and T&TCs; and the backed [ç
/
] (which work by Wolfram and associates has made widely known as the hoi toiders’ pronunciation of North Carolina), an option of SAmE, NYCE (spreading) and NfldE. Baj has a slightly backed and raised [√I] diphthong in these words, which is distinctive within the Caribbean. SurCs have the short DRESS vowels in these words, and occasionally, word-finally, the [e
] diphthong. 4.3

CHOICE

The pronunciation of the CHOICE vowel is [ç
] almost everywhere. JamC prefers [
] with a low onset, and NfldE, BahE and T&TC allow a central onset, i.e. [´
/´i]. In conservative varieties of SAmE two distinctive variants may occur, namely triphthongization (resulting in, e.g., [ço
]) and glide reduction (to forms like [ç´] or, especially before /l/, [o]). 4.4.

MOUTH

Most North American dialects (though not CanE and AAVE, and not generally SAmE) have a low to high-back glide [aU/AU] in these words. The T&TCs, Baj, Gullah and ChcE have a main variant with a raised and backed onset, e.g. [√u/çU], which is also possible in CanE, NfldE, and JamC/JamE. The process of so-called “Canadian Raising” (also with PRICE, though perceived more stereotypically in MOUTH words) implies that the onset is raised to schwa only before voiceless consonants; in addition to CanE and NfldE, this occurs in InlNE and WMwE, SAmE and BahE dialects. In NEngE, also NfldE, T&TC, and AAVE raising to [´U] can be observed without such phonetic conditioning. A pronunciation with a fronted onset is the main realization of this vowel in rural SAmE (less so, and recessive, in urban SAmE), AAVE, and BahE, and an alternative possibility in WMwE, PhilE, NYCE, and NfldE. Older Southerners may have a “drawled” triphthongal realization, [æEÅ]. Monophthongizations of this vowel are quite rare, but a low monophthong [a ] uniquely characterizes the speech of Pittsburgh and some of western Pennsylvania and can also be found in CajE, and a raised back variant, e.g. [o ], occurs in TobC and, without quantity distinctions, SurC. 4.5.

GOAT

It is interesting to see that the FACE and GOAT vowels are not only phonetically related as something like mirror images of each other in the front and back areas

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of the vocalic space, as glides from a mid onset to a high position, front and back respectively, but they also share a number of regional distribution patterns of their main, mutually corresponding, phonetic variants. In GOAT, again, the main Caribbean realization (of JamE, the T&TCs, SurCs, Baj, and Gullah), shared by CajE and ChcE, is a half-close (this time back) monophthong, [o ], but JamC prefers an ingliding type, e.g. [U´], which is also possible in Baj as [o´]. (With restrictions, the monophthong is also possible in the Upper Midwest, InlNE, NEngE, NfldE and AAVE, the ingliding version in SAmE and NfldE). AmE and most of its dialectal variants (except for NEngE, and not generally SAmE) are characterized by a pronunciation with a back and rounded onset, e.g. [oU/ou] (in SurCs this may occur word-finally only). The pronunciation typically associated with BrE, [´U] with a central onset, predominates in varieties where relatively closer cultural and historical ties with southern British influences are attested, viz. SAmE, NEngE and BahE, and it may also come up in WMwE, PhilE and NfldE. In the “Southern Shift” this vowel may be fronted and also lowered to [ ] or [æ ]. Fronting occurs in PhilE as well. 4.6.

NEAR

In North American dialects of English, the NEAR vowel typically starts at the high front but non-peripheral position of KIT. In some rhotic dialects this [
r] type may be the only realization before /r/ (predominantly in WMwE and InlNE, also JamE); in others a diphthongal realization gliding to schwa, [
´(r)], is common (PhilE, NYCE, NfldE, Gullah, ChcE), or the onset of the diphthong may be tensed to [i] (NEngE, CajE). Some varieties, like SAmE, AAVE, and CanE, have all of these realizations, with internally differentiating factors, and in most of the others the alternative pronunciations are also possible in addition to the main variant. Conservative American dialects, notably SAmE and NfldE, as well as Caribbean creoles, have lowered onsets, i.e. realizations with [e] or even [] (before schwa or /r/ or even as monophthongs), and in “deep” basilects like JamC and the SurCs a long gliding movement from a high front to a low position, [ia], is found. 4.7.

SQUARE

Similarly, the SQUARE vowel is either a half-open, usually lengthened monophthongal [ ] (WMwE, InlNE, SAmE, NEngE, CajE, ChcE, T&TC) or a diphthong with this onset and a schwa (PhilE, NYCE, CanE, Gullah), or any of these or a set of less widely used alternative pronunciations, e.g. raised [e´] (NEngE, SAmE, NfldE) and [
´] (NfldE, T&TCs), lowered [æ´] (SAmE, CajE, BahE), or [
] (JamC). The monophthongal type may also be realized as a half-close vowel [e ], mostly in the Caribbean (T&TCs, JamE, Baj, without lengthening also in SurC) but also in SAmE and, less commonly, NfldE.

Synopsis: phonological variation in the Americas and the Caribbean

4.8.

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CURE

The CURE vowel, before schwa or /r/, typically is [U] or alternatively, predominating in SAmE, T&TCs, BahE and AAVE, a raised and tensed [u]. Lowering to [o/ç] is strong in NfldE, Gullah and Baj and possible in SAmE, TobC, JamE and JamC; other variants, like [oU] in SAmE or NfldE and [ua/oa] in ChcE, are restricted.

5.

Weak vowels

5.1.

happY

Both North American and Caribbean varieties realize this unstressed vowel primarily as a relatively high front [i] type; the more central [
] is a variant in some places (SAmE, BahE) and reported to be the primary type only in the T&TCs and CajE. ChcE may also have a schwa. SurCs have [e] after mid vowels, otherwise [i]. 5.2.

lettER

A relatively open [a] realization of the word-final unstressed vowel marks JamC, SurC and TobC, and Eastern Caribbean island varieties, and is possible in NEngE, NfldE, T&TC, AAVE, and ChcE, but in most cases the expected schwa realization (with constriction in rhotic dialects) is to be found. For Baj a relatively high and back [] is reported. 5.3.

horsES

Both a central [´] and a high front [
] are widely observed as the realizations of the regular plural suffix. The former is reported to be exclusive to CanE and BahE, the latter to TobC, Baj and SurC (to the extent that these creoles have traces of this suffix); SAmE, NEngE and NfldE have both variants quite regularly, and in all other dialects [
] is normal but schwa is also possible under specific circumstances. 5.4.

commA

JamC, SurC and the T&TCs have a full open vowel, [a], in this lexical set, but most dialects have a schwa; some (CanE, also AAVE and ChcE) allow both.

6.

Vowel distribution

Vocalic mergers affect the set of sounds available in any given dialect, but full phonological analyses of dialects are usually missing, perhaps as a result of the vari-

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ability observed and the difficulties involved in any categorization. Thus, pointing out distributional facts, like the homophonies between certain vowels, will bring us closer to a systemic perspective. A number of mergers affect what may be regarded as corresponding pairs of tense and lax vowels. KIT and FLEECE are mostly kept distinct (except in SurC) but may collapse in WMwE, CajE, JamE, and the T&TCs, and before laterals also in innovative urban varieties of SAmE. Similarly, homophony of FOOT and GOOSE is extremely rare, found occasionally in WMwE and TobC and regularly in SurC only; before laterals this merger is spreading in urban SAmE, however. The merger of LOT and THOUGHT, on the other hand, has been widely observed to be spreading in North American English; it is reported for WMwE, CanE, NfldE, CajE and ChcE and occurs conditionally also in NEngE, SAmE, AAVE, and T&TCs. The SurCs also have the merger of these vowels, but their phonetic realization is quite different, a low front [a]. The speech of St. Louis exhibits a characteristically local merger, of the NORTH and START vowels. TRAP and BATH are pronounced identically practically everywhere with the exception of Jamaica and, with restrictions, T&TCs. TRAP and DRESS may merge before a lateral consonant in NfldE, BahE, and CajE. The so-called pin/pen-merger, i.e. homophony of KIT and DRESS before nasals, is a hallmark of SAmE, including CajE, and a conditioned possibility in WMwE, ChcE, InlNE, NfldE, and BahE; however, it is said to be recessive in urban centers of SAmE today. DRESS and FACE are distinct, except possibly for parts of WMwE (and SurC). Mergers of mid-front vowels before /r/ have been widely observed in North American English and frequently discussed in the dialectological literature; to some extent they seem to be lexically conditioned. Mary and merry are homophonous in WMwE, InlNE, CanE, SAmE (where the two words were kept distinct until late into the nineteenth century), NfldE, Gullah, AAVE, CajE, and ChcE, possibly so also in NYCE, NEngE, BahE and the T&TCs. The homophony of these vowels also includes marry in WMwE, InlNE, SAmE (a recent extension of the previous merger, spreading from urban contexts), AAVE, and ChcE, and potentially a few other dialects as well. LOT and STRUT are pronounced identically in JamE and possibly the T&TCs but not elsewhere. NEAR and SQUARE fall together in much of the Caribbean (JamE/C, T&TCs), and, with restrictions, SAmE and NfldE. Vowel nasalization before nasal consonants is the norm almost everywhere. Mutual assimilation phenomena between vowels in the same words occur regularly in Saramaccan, JamC and ChcE, and are possible in SAmE, NfldE and T&TCs. Spelling pronunciation of weak vowels is common in JamC and possible in other Caribbean varieties (T&TCs, BahE) and AAVE.

Synopsis: phonological variation in the Americas and the Caribbean

7.

Consonants

7.1.

Stops: P/T/K, B/D/G

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Word-initial voiceless stops are aspirated in American and Caribbean varieties, with few exceptions: a lack or weakening of this aspiration is the norm in CajE and Gullah, and possible in JamE/C. All North American dialects, including BahE but not the Caribbean varieties, regularly allow the lenisation (flapping, voicing) of intervocalic /t/ (so that writer sounds like rider); CajE is the only dialect in which this is found only under specific circumstances. The realization of /t/ as a glottal stop word-finally or intervocalically is regularly found only in AAVE and, in the Caribbean, in Baj; in SAmE, NEngE, NfldE and BahE this is a possible variant. The palatalization of word-initial velar stops (so that can’t and garden are pronounced with /kj/ and /gj/, respectively) marks Caribbean creoles (JamC, T&TC, TobC, SurC – where [tj/t /dj/d] are also found in such words). The same applies to the pronunciation of words with an initial b- with bw- (e.g. bwoy ‘boy’), documented for the same varieties and, marginally, also for NfldE. Saramaccan is noteworthy for the existence of implosive voiced stops, /∫, Î/. In Saramaccan and Ndyuka word-internal /d/ may be replaced by a lateral /l/. 7.2.

Fricatives: TH, F/V, S/Z, H/CH, etc.

Voicing of word-initial /s/ and /f/, yielding /z-/ and /v-/, respectively, is rare in America; it is reported regularly for BahE only and as a highly recessive feature for NfldE. A stop realization of a word-initial voiced dental fricative, e.g. dis for ‘this’, is normal in Caribbean creoles, BahE, Gullah, AAVE, and CajE, and possible in all North American dialects except for CanE (it occurs in NfldE, however). With voiceless dental fricatives (e.g. ting for ‘thing’), the same process occurs in roughly the same distribution, though not quite as widely: in comparison with the previous feature, it is reported as conditional rather than universal in BahE and AAVE, and as not occurring at all in WMwE, InlNE, and SAmE. Realizations of word-initial dental fricatives as affricates are less common, and also more widely in use with voiced rather than voiceless variants. In the former case, i.e. [d-] for [-], we find the feature reported as in regular use for AAVE only, and as used occasionally in WMwE, InlNE, PhilE, NYCE, SAmE, NfldE, CajE, and T&TCs; in the latter, i.e. [t-] for [-], in comparison with the previous list the feature is not mentioned for WMwE, InlNE, SAmE and AAVE. In intervocalic position, the voiced dental fricative may be labialized (so that, for instance, brother is pronounced with a central [-v-] consonant) in a few dialects, but this is a relatively exceptional process, reported as a possible variant for CajE, NfldE and BahE only. Similarly, an intervocalic labial consonant –v– may be rendered as a voiced bilabial stop –b– (so that river, never become riba, neba); this occurs regularly in

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TobC, SurC and BahE and with restrictions in JamC, T&TC, ChcE, and SAmE. Word-finally, the devoicing of obstruents (e.g. of a plural –s after a voiced sound) is a stereotypical feature of Chicago working-class speech. The only American variety in which a voiceless velar fricative [/x] occurs at least conditionally is ChcE. Word-initial h-deletion, e.g. ‘eart for ‘heart’, is common in much of the Caribbean (JamC, TobC, SurC, BahE; but not in the Leeward Islands) and in CajE, and possible in a few other related dialects (Gullah, AAVE, T&TC), among Franco-Americans in New England, and in NfldE. The distribution of the converse feature, word-initial h-insertion, e.g. haxe for ‘axe’, is similar: regular in JamC, Gullah, and BahE; possible in the T&TCs and NfldE. In wordinitial /hj-/ clusters, i.e. in words like human or huge, the initial h- is omitted regularly in NfldE, among young urban speakers in SAmE, in NYCE, and CajE, and under specific conditions in PhilE, rural SAmE, ChcE, BahE, and JamC. 7.3.

Semi-vowels: W/WH, J

In words beginning with wh-, some American dialects have retained a historically older consonant cluster with an initial velar fricative [x] before the approximant [w], so that, unlike many mainstream varieties of English, which is not homophonous with witch; this occurs in WMwE, InlNE, CanE, conservative NEngE, SAmE (though no longer among young urban speakers), ChcE, and JamC. The approximant [w] itself may be substituted by a labiodental voiced fricative [v] – regularly in TobC, possibly in T&TC, BahE, NfldE and CajE; both sounds are reported to have merged in several Eastern Caribbean islands as well. So-called “jod-dropping”, the omission of /j/ after alveolars and before [u ] in words such as tune or news, is widely considered a characteristic feature of AmE as against BrE/RP, although within North America some dialects have retained the historical pronunciation with /j/. In our data, the feature of “jod-dropping” is reported as occurring normally in WMwE, InlNE, PhilE, NYCE, NEngE, and BahE, and as occurring in certain environments in SAmE (notably in new urban dialects), CanE, NfldE and ChcE. 7.4.

Sonorants: N, L, R

Little variation is found concerning nasals in America. The realization of velar nasals with a velar stop following, i.e. of words spelled with as [], is reported to occur normally in AAVE and ChcE and sometimes in NYCE (stereotypically associated with the city accent) and some Caribbean varieties (T&TCs, JamC/E). The velarization of word-final alveolar nasals, i.e. the pronunciation of words like down with a final [-], is characteristic of Caribbean (and related) creoles , i.e. JamC, T&TC, TobC, Eastern islands, Sranan, Gullah, and possible also in ChcE.

Synopsis: phonological variation in the Americas and the Caribbean

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Post-vocalic /l/ may be vocalized commonly in SAmE (both rural and urban), NEngE, PhilE and JamC and in some contexts in WMwE, InlNE, NYCE, NfldE, AAVE, ChcE, BahE, TobC and JamE. A tendency to confuse or neutralize /l/ and /r/ is documented as occurring regularly in SurC and Gullah and possibly in T&TC and NfldE, but in general this is not common in AmE. On the other hand, rhoticity and possible phonetic realizations of /r/ are an important issue in American and Caribbean types of English. Generally, StAmE is considered to be fully rhotic; more specifically, this applies to WMwE, InlNE, PhilE, CanE, most of NfldE and ChcE, and also, as a consequence of recent changes, urban SAmE, whereas NYCE, rural SAmE, NEngE, a small part of NfldE, AAVE, BahE and JamE/C are variably rhotic. Baj is the only Caribbean variety which is described as consistently rhotic. This leaves Gullah and CajE in North America and the Eastern islands dialects as well as T&TCs in the Caribbean as nonrhotic varieties. Phonetically, postvocalic /r/ tends to be realized as velar retroflex constriction in AmE, less commonly also as an alveolar flap (in CajE, JamE/C, and possibly ChcE), not at all as an apical trill and highly exceptionally (possibly in T&TC) as a uvular sound. An intrusive r, e.g. idea-[r]-is, may be heard in NYCE, NEngE, SAmE, NfldE, JamE/C, and the T&TCs. 7.5.

Consonant deletion

The reduction of word-final consonant clusters occurs very widely: regularly and without functional constraints in Caribbean and creole-related varieties (Eastern islands, T&TC, TobC, JamC, SurC, BahE, Gullah); generally with monomorphemic clusters (e.g. desk > des’) but variably and less frequently with bimorphemic ones (e.g. helped > help’) in NfldE and AAVE, and variably irrespective of the functional load of the final sound in WMwE, InlNE, PhilE, NYCE, NEngE, SAmE, and ChcE. Word-final single consonants (e.g. cut > cu’) are omitted much less widely: generally in CajE only, variably in NfldE and contact dialects, notably AAVE, ChcE, BahE, and the T&TCs. Word-final single nasals may be deleted in JamC, rendering the preceding vowels nasalized. The simplification of word-initial consonant clusters (in words such as splash or square) is not typical of American varieties; it is attested as occurring variably in SAmE, NfldE, T&TCs, SurCs, and JamC.

8.

Prosodic features

Unstressed word-initial syllables may be omitted, so that about and except result in ‘bout and ‘cept, respectively. This is common in the T&TCs, Gullah, AAVE, and NfldE, and occurs variably in JamC, BahE, ChcE, CajE, WMwE, NEngE, SAmE, and CanE. The shifting of stress from the first to a later syllable, as in

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indi»cate or holi»day, is reported as occurring not infrequently in T&TC and TobC and sometimes in JamE/C, CajE, ChcE, NEngE, and NfldE. In general, a tendency toward a relatively syllable-timed rather than a stress-timed rhythm is reported for Caribbean creoles and varieties quite strongly (TobC, T&TC, Baj, JamC, BahE), and also variably for ChcE, but not at all for all other North American dialects. In comparison with British-based varieties, AmE is stated to preserve secondary stress more strongly, a process which tends to result in less vowel reduction and a characteristically different stress pattern. Distinctive, perhaps idiosyncratic intonation contours appear to characterize a number of varieties, although relatively little attention has been paid to such questions in sociolinguistic research. For some pertinent observations, see the papers on NfldE, AAVE, ChcE and T&TCs. High-rising terminal contours, i.e. a rise of intonation at the end of statements, (sometimes called “HRT” or also “American question intonation”) are said to occur variably in all American and Caribbean varieties under consideration, with the sole exceptions of CajE and TobC. Tone distinctions are restricted to creoles; they are reported as characteristic of TobC and T&TC and possible in JamC. Saramaccan and Ndyuka are tone languages.

Synopsis: phonetics and phonology of English spoken in the Pacific and Australasian region Kate Burridge

1.

Introduction

The following discussion describes the most significant phonological features of the varieties of English spoken in the Pacific and Australasian region. To simplify the discussion, we have broadly divided the brief descriptions here into those of native Englishes (Australian and New Zealand English) and of contact Englishes (Kriol, Cape York Creole, Bislama, Tok Pisin, Solomon Islands Pijin, Hawai‘i Creole, Fiji English and Norfuk). The sound system of any language will defy completely uniform and unambiguous description and it is always difficult in a short summary such as this one to do justice to the rich diversity that inevitably exists. This holds particularly for the contact languages represented here. These show enormous regional and idiolectal variation and their phonological inventories differ considerably depending upon two main factors: – the influence of local vernacular languages (which may or may not be the first language of speakers), and – contact with English – for certain (particularly urban) groups a growing force of influence. Typically these languages range from varieties close to standard English in everything but accent (the acrolect) through to so-called heavy creoles that are not mutually intelligible with the standard (the basilect). In between these two extremes there exists a range of varieties (or mesolects). This kind of variation means that some phonological aspects of the more extreme varieties of Aboriginal English will be creole-like. Nonetheless we have decided to consider both Aboriginal English and Maori English under the umbrella of Australian and New Zealand English. For reasons provided in the Introduction, it paints a more accurate picture to separate these two varieties from the creoles and other contact varieties whose phonological repertoires pattern more closely the systems of the relevant substrate languages than that of English.

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2.

Significant features of New Zealand and Australian English – vowels

2.1.

Short vowels

Australian and New Zealand varieties of English show an unusual pattern involving a general raising of short front vowels. Most striking is the raising of the DRESS and TRAP vowels in NZE. This is less evident in AusE, although it does occur. In some parts of Australia, particularly on the east coast (for example in Melbourne) the KIT vowel is also raised. In NZE, however, this vowel is lowered and centralized (although less centralized in Maori English than in Pakeha English). The pronunciation of the KIT vowel is an outstanding feature of this dialect and has become a shibboleth for distinguishing New Zealand and Australian speakers. As noted in the chapters by Bauer and Warren and also Gordon and Maclagan, Australians parody the New Zealand KIT vowel with their STRUT vowel; in fact, the vowel that most NZE speakers use here is a central vowel that is slightly more open than schwa. These two major dialects of Antipodean English have in common a number of vowel mergers currently underway in prelateral environments. For example, in both varieties a sociolinguistic variable is the neutralization of DRESS and TRAP before laterals. For many younger speakers the word shell and shall and Alan and Ellen are no longer distinguishable. In NZE the neutralized vowel is typically more open and more retracted than either DRESS or TRAP, although vowels intermediate between DRESS and TRAP are also heard. AusE speakers usually merge these vowels in favour of [æ]. In Australia this merger is also reported as being regionally differentiated, occurring in both Melbourne and Brisbane, but generally absent from the other major cities. There is a parallel phenomenon occurring with respect to the LOT and GOAT vowels: for many speakers the words doll and dole are not distinguished. The GOOSE and FOOT vowels and the FLEECE and KIT vowels are also in the process of merging in prelateral position, in this case in the direction of the short vowels. For example, fool is merging on full and feel is merging on fill. Moreover, in NZE the distinction between the vowels of KIT and FOOT is also frequently lost in this environment, so that pairs of words like pill and pull become indistinguishable. It therefore follows from the previous mergers that for some speakers of NZE the KIT and GOOSE vowels are also indistinguishable (as in fill and fool and pill and pool). Note that the prelateral lowering of vowels has also been noted as being especially marked in the Norfolk vernacular, in particular for DRESS. In NZE a merger between KIT and STRUT is sometimes heard prelaterally (as in kilt and cult). In both NZE and AusE the FOOT vowel is a typically a mid-high back (slightly rounded) vowel [U]. However, NZE is showing evidence of a change underway towards a vowel that is both centralized and unrounded. The STRUT vowel is a low and central vowel. In both dialects it shares phonetic qualities with the START vowel. Accordingly, the vowels in pairs of words such as cut and cart are distinguished largely by length.

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Speakers of Aboriginal English, especially those falling closer to the creole end of the continuum, may not distinguish between KIT and FLEECE or between DRESS and TRAP. In this variety the STRUT vowel often alternates with various front or back vowels from among the following: /√ ~ I ~ Q ~ Å/. Mid back vowels are often used interchangeably or may, under influence from the creole, alternate with /o/. 2.2.

Long vowels

A striking feature of the FLEECE vowel in both AusE and NZE is the evidence of ongliding; this is most obvious among speakers at the broad end of the spectrum. In AusE the GOOSE vowel is also diphthongized and in both dialects this vowel is considerably fronted (markedly so in Maori English). As mentioned earlier, both the FLEECE and GOOSE vowels are neutralized with other vowels before laterals. Of particular interest with respect to variation elsewhere in the English-speaking world are the regional differences in the BATH vowel class. In Australia there is striking social, stylistic and regional variation between the TRAP and PALM vowels. In NZE the variation is less apparent; most New Zealanders use the PALM vowel in words such as example and dance (the exceptions are those older South Island speakers who use the TRAP vowel in the BATH lexical set). Despite the variation that exists within these two countries, this feature is considered another shibboleth to distinguish Australian and New Zealand varieties of English. In both dialects there are diphthong variants with central offglides of the START and THOUGHT vowels. The NURSE vowel is long mid-high central; it is fairly stable in both varieties, although fronted for some broad speakers. In Aboriginal English it is often replaced by a mid front vowel (either /E/ or /e/). 2.3.

Diphthongs

The rising diphthongs in AusE and NZE are significantly different from other dialects of English. They are also important differentiators for the social variants within these two dialects. This is especially true for the FACE, PRICE and MOUTH vowels. Compared to their RP equivalents, FACE has a more open starting point; PRICE a raised and backed first target, especially for broad speakers; the back-rising diphthong MOUTH has a fronted and first target, again most notably for the broad end of the spectrum. The other back-rising diphthong GOAT has an open and central starting position with a closing glide approximating the GOOSE vowel. CHOICE shows the least variation for these dialects. One of the most characteristic features of falling diphthongs in Australia and New Zealand is the monophthongal [ç] pronunciation for the CURE vowel. This is evident in the pronunciation of lexical items such as poor, moor, sure and tour. If the CURE vowel occurs it is generally following /j/. In parts of Australia the quality of the offglide for the NEAR vowel is weak and is often realized as length; in

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NZE a long monophthongal variant also appears before liquids /l/ and /r/. A more striking feature of New Zealand is the variable merger that is currently taking place between the vowels of NEAR and SQUARE. For most young speakers pairs of words such as rear and rare or cheer and chair are not distinguishable. Although there has been considerable debate over the years concerning the quality of the neutralized vowel, most linguists now agree the merger is in favour of a high variant [i´]. 2.4.

Weak vowels

The unstressed vowels in lettER, horsES and commA are realized with a wide range of different qualities around the vowel space of [´], depending on the context. The unstressed vowel in happY is generally realized as [i], although broad variants can show dipthongization here. In Aboriginal English schwa is typically replaced either by the mid central vowel /√/ or by a low central vowel /a/. Widespread throughout New Zealand and Australia is the pronunciation of the past participles of the nine verbs – grown, flown, blown, known, mown, sewn, shown, sown and thrown – as disyllables (hence, for example, [groU´n] and [floU´n]). In New Zealand both pronunciations are regarded equally correct; in Australia the disyllabic variant still attracts widespread condemnation.

3.

Significant features of New Zealand and Australian English – consonants

3.1.

Stops

Widely used by Australians and New Zealanders is a flap or tap [R] variant of /t/ in intervocalic final positions (as in get it and sort of ) and medial positions (as in better and beauty). This variant also occurs commonly preceding syllabic laterals and nasals (as in bottle and button). There is also a glottalized version of /t/ that can be heard more usually in medial contexts (such as cutlass) and in end positions (such as shut), less so intervocalically (as in get out). These varieties share with many other English dialects the feature of palatalization of /t, d, s, z/ preceding the GOOSE vowel [u]. There is, however, considerable variation between the pronunciations with yod and with palatals, as in tune [tjun] versus [tSun]. The palatalized variants are more likely to occur when the syllable is unstressed (as in fortune and educate). A pronunciation of /t/ that has come to be associated with AusE is affrication. It is most obvious in prepausal positions and has been linked particularly to middle class and female speech. Both AusE and NZE are also showing evidence of a complex assimilation taking place in the consonant clusters /tr/ and /str/ – the affricated realizations [tS®] and [St®] are becoming increasingly frequent in these varieties. The word tree, for example, is pronounced as [tS®i]. In younger speakers

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there are also signs of this affricated pronunciation extending to the /stj/ cluster of words such as student. In Aboriginal English the distinction between voiced and voiceless stops is not strongly maintained. The preference is for voiceless stops, especially in word-final position. The alveolar stop /t/ is often rhotacized between vowels, as in shut up [S√R√p]. Maori English shows evidence of a loss of aspiration on voiceless stops. 3.2.

Fricatives

Devoicing of voiced fricatives is a general feature of NZE, and is particularly evident in Maori English. In Aboriginal English there is a preference for stop over fricative articulation – labio-dental fricatives [f] and [v] are often replaced by stops. One widespread feature that AusE shares with other English dialects is the substitution of /f/ and /v/ for dental fricatives /D/ and /T/. This is particularly evident in frequent words such as with and them. In NZE this is not a major tendency, although /f/ does occasionally substitute for /T/. This feature is more common in casual conversation and is still very stigmatised in both dialects. In Aboriginal English these dental fricatives are often replaced by alveolar stops /t/ and /d/ (occasionally /s/ is substituted for /T/) and in Maori English, surprisingly, by affricates /dD/ and /tT/. All these varieties share with many others the deletion of [h] in initial position, especially in unstressed contexts (as in the case of the pronouns him and her). When deleted in stressed positions it attracts censure. Aboriginal English shows evidence of hypercorrection; [h] often appears initially in words where it does not occur in standard English. In Aboriginal English, sibilants are not always distinguished and affricates are frequently realized as /S/. 3.3.

Glides

As in other parts of the English-speaking world the distinction between /w/ and /hw/ has virtually disappeared, so that for most speakers pairs of words such as witch and which are indistinguishable. The /hw/ cluster is preserved only for the most conservative speakers of these varieties (most notably the older speakers in the Southland in New Zealand). Yod-dropping is variable in both New Zealand and Australia. After clusters (as in blue) and after /r/ (as in rule) /j/ has totally disappeared. It is now also rarely heard after /l/ (as in lewd), although it is preserved in syllables that do not carry the primary stress (as in prelude). Following alveolar consonants there is considerable variation. While yod is usually deleted after [T] in words such as enthusiasm as well as after /s/ and /z/ (as in assume and presume), speakers vary between pronunciations with yod and those where palatalization has occurred. After /t/ and /d/ the

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most usual pronunciation is an affricate (cf. discussion above). Following /n/ there is the sort of lexical variation that is expected of a change in progress; for example, the yod typically disappears in nude but tends to be retained in news. As is the case elsewhere in the English-speaking world, yod is best preserved after labials (as in beauty and fume) and velars (as in cute). 3.4.

Sonorants /r/ and /l/

Australian and New Zealand English show the different allophones of /l/ that occur in RP; namely, a slightly velarized lateral in onset positions and a considerably darker version in coda position. There is also evidence of increasing vocalization of /l/ in both dialects (thought not uniformly throughout) – the variant is a back vowel [u] that may or may not be rounded or labialized. The contexts that promote vocalized /l/ are: final cluster (as in milk), end position (as in pill) and syllabic environments (such as buckle). These varieties are non-rhotic; in other words, /r/ is not pronounced in post-vocalic position. Most striking, therefore, is the variable rhoticity found in the Southern part of the South Island of New Zealand. In this variety the pronunciation of /r/ is most consistently maintained in the NURSE lexical set, and there is considerable variation in other contexts. Australian and New Zealand English have a liaison feature known as linking R, whereby /r/ is pronounced in final position if there is a following vowel, as in phrases such as far off. Both varieties also show the so-called intrusive R whereby /r/ is inserted to link adjacent vowels, as in phrases such as idea(r) of and law(r) and order. There is also evidence of intrusive R in word-internal environments such as drawing and however. This liaison rule has also extended to laterals. In other words, the vocalization of /l/ has triggered a linking L (or, in some cases, a linking W) where a following word begins with a vowel, as in the phrase feel it. Throughout NZ and Australia there is evidence of American English influence, particularly in the realm of vocabulary. Borrowed expressions and catchphrases are often pronounced with a kind of pseudo-American /r/. Many popular singers also adopt an American rhotic pronunciation. The substitution of [n] for [N] in words ending in -ing and [Nk] for final [N] in the group of indefinite pronouns something, anything and nothing are features these Antipodean varieties share with many others, most notably those of South East England. The latter feature, however, is still stigmatized and is typically confined to the broad varieties. It continues to attract fierce criticism.

Synopsis: phonetics and phonology of English in the Pacific and Australasia

4.

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Prosodic features of Australian and New Zealand English

The most striking prosodic feature of these varieties of English is the high rising contour on declarative clauses. It is especially common in narratives. The feature goes by various names, but most usually High Rising Tone/Terminal (HRT) or Australian Questioning Intonation. Maori English shows a strong tendency to syllable-timing, under the influence of the mora-based timing of the Maori language. There are also strikingly different features within both Maori and Aboriginal English prosody, most notably with respect to voice quality and rhythm.

5.

Significant features of contact languages – vowels

As mentioned above, variation within these speech communities is considerable and surveying the phonetic and phonological features of these languages is extremely difficult on account of varying degrees of interference from local vernaculars and from the lexifier language English. These two influences have a significant effect on the extent and the nature of the vowel inventories that we find here. As in the case of pidgins and creoles elsewhere, the contact languages in this region show vowel systems that are considerably reduced. This means that there is substantial vowel neutralization and consequently these languages permit much larger numbers of homophones (words that are pronounced the same) than do other varieties of English. Bislama, Solomon Islands Pijin, Tok Pisin (with roots in earlier Melanesian Pidgin), Fiji English and the Australian creoles, Cape York Creole and Kriol, all share a five vowel contrast: /i/, /u/, /e/, /o/, /a/. The phonetic realization of these segments is generally close to the cardinal IPA values. Hawai‘i Creole has a seven vowel inventory, with additional low vowels in front and back position. With the exception of Kriol, vowel length is not phonemically distinctive. Where vowel neutralization has occurred, these languages can show a fairly regular correspondence between the creole words and their corresponding English etyma. For example, in Bislama the English vowels START, TRAP and STRUT regularly correlate with /a/. However, the correspondences are not always predictable; the NURSE vowel in Bislama, for example, can correspond to /o/, /a/ and /e/. Diphthongs are usually monophthongized (FACE is typically realized as [e]; GOAT as [o]). There is, however, considerable variation, especially word-finally. For example, centering diphthongs with a schwa off-glide (corresponding to postvocalic /r/ in rhotic varieties) in words such as more and where vary between monophthongal variants /o/ and /e/ and vowel sequences of /oa/ and /ea/. Generally speaking, better-educated speakers are more likely to contrast diphthongized and monophthongal vowels and have at their disposal a greater range of diphthongs.

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Some of these varieties have rules of vowel harmony, especially between affixes and stems. For example, the Melanesian Pidgin varieties and the Australian creoles have in common a transitive verb suffix -Vm where the vowel harmonizes with the final vowel of the verb root. In Solomon Islands Pijin, vowels that are inserted within consonant clusters and word finally (see discussion below) also typically harmonize; for example sukulu ‘school’, tarae ‘try’, bisinisi ‘business’.

6.

Significant features of contact languages – consonants

These languages show the basic consonant phonemes of English, but possess a considerably smaller inventory of sounds. There is also substantial variation relating to the substrate languages. Kriol, for example, has additional lamino-palatal and retroflexed consonants that are not found in standard English. Generally, phonetic interference from vernaculars is more obvious in the language of older, especially rural, speakers. The extent of the influence depends on whether or not these vernaculars are the first language of speakers, as well as on education (which will inevitably increase contact with English). As in the case of vowels, speakers with a better command of English usually have expanded consonant inventories. Consequently, the following are very general tendencies and readers are advised to revisit the chapters for specific details of each of these languages. 6.1.

Stops

The most heavy creole varieties typically do not show contrastive voicing for stops. They may appear voiced or unvoiced, although there is a general preference for voiceless (unaspirated) stops in all environments. Where a contrast is made between voiced and voiceless stops, the voicing distinction is typically lost word-finally; hence pairs of words such as dog and dock will be homophonous. Intervocalic flapping (or tapping) is widespread in these varieties. Hawai‘i Creole shows both voiced and voiceless stops and there is aspiration where a force of air follows the release of the voiceless stop. Aspiration is generally more in evidence than in other varieties of English because of the prevalence of syllables with secondary stress (for example, it occurs medially in words such as carton and kitten). Where they occur word-finally, however, voiceless stops are typically unreleased or glottalized. In addition, Hawai‘i Creole shows affricated pronunciations of /t/ and /d/ where they occur before /r/. A particularly striking feature of the varieties of Melanesian Pidgin is the presence of prenasalized voiced stops; in other words, /b, d, g/ are pronounced as /mb, m d and mg/. Fiji English also shows prenasalization, but only of /b/.

Synopsis: phonetics and phonology of English in the Pacific and Australasia

6.2.

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Fricatives

Fricatives are generally absent from the heaviest creole varieties, with the exception of /s/ – it is usual for stops to substitute for both fricatives and affricates. Sibilant contrasts between /s/, /z/, /S/ and /Z/ are generally merged as /s/. Where fricatives occur, the voicing contrast is not consistently maintained; devoicing is especially common word-finally. The contrast between /f/ and /v/ appears to be particularly unstable, with /f/ often substituting for /v/. Dental fricatives are typically substituted with stops. Glottal fricative /h/ is variably maintained in these creoles. Examples of hypercorrection can also be found; for example Tok Pisin hapinum ~ apinum ‘afternoon’. 6.3.

Sonorants

These varieties all show three distinct nasal phonemes. Basilectal Kriol shows an additional retroflexed and palatalized nasal. Note that Bislama has a palatal nasal word-finally for words of French origin such as champagne. The rhotic /r/ is generally realized in these languages as an alveolar flap (or trill). Post-vocalic /r/ does not occur; however, Hawai‘i Creole shows R-colouring of the NURSE vowel in stressed syllables. In Hawai‘i Creole L-vocalization is common in syllable codas and before consonants. In other contact varieties postvocalic /l/ is typically non-velarized. 6.4.

Phonotactics

These languages show distinct preference for an open CVCV structure. Consequently consonants are often dropped from clusters, especially word-finally; e.g. Kriol ek ‘ax’. Speakers will also insert epenthetic vowels to avoid consonant clusters. As described earlier, these epenthetic vowels often conform to the rules of vowel harmony. However, increased contact with English can bring about the loss of these epenthetic vowels – consonant clusters are therefore more evident in speakers of urban varieties where English influence is stronger (through schooling, for example). The open syllable target also means that some speakers will add final vowels. For example, in the Pijin of older, mostly rural speakers sukul becomes sukulu ‘school’ and bisinis becomes bisinisi ‘business’.

7.

Prosodic features of the contact languages

The most distinctive prosodic feature of these languages is their syllabic rhythm; unlike the stress-timed quality of standard English, in these varieties syllables show more or less equal force in terms of loudness and of duration.

Synopsis: the phonology of English in Africa and South and Southeast Asia Rajend Mesthrie

1.

Introduction

This synopsis will provide a very general overview of the phonological characteristics of varieties of English in Africa and south and Southeast Asia (henceforth Africa-Asia). The focus will inevitably fall on those characteristics that differ from varieties that are more or less accepted as a norm in international English: RP and ‘General American’ (however hard the latter may be to define). These two somewhat idealised varieties are chosen as a convenient means of comparison, as well as for the fact that they do have some prestige in the former colonies, especially via the media and in newsreading styles (rather than in colloquial speech). RP is the model promulgated by the British in all territories, but two, covered in this section of the Handbook. The exception is the Philippines, which, after Spanish domination, came under the sway of the U.S. and ergo U.S. English. The second is LibSE, an offshoot of AAVE. As with the synopsis of morphological and syntactic characteristics, the features identified are unlikely to be used by all L2 speakers in a given territory at all times. Rather, the principles of variationist sociolinguistics apply: there is a degree of intra-speaker, inter-speaker and stylistic variation. In addition the features cited are mainly found in mesolectal and basilectal speech; acrolectal speakers usually evince accents that are closer to prestige TL norms.

2.

Vowels

2.1.

The short monophthongs

Varieties in Africa-Asia either retain the 6-vowel system for short monophthongs or transform it into a 5-vowel system. The latter is exemplified by almost all African L2 varieties (except educated varieties of NigE). A 6-vowel system for short vowels is found among all the L1 varieties (WSAfE, StHE, CFE, InSAfE, LibSE), the Asian varieties (IndE, PakE, SgE and MalE; PhlE mesolect) and (with several structural changes) in southern NigE. The 5-vowel short monophthong system is in fact the core vowel system in its entirety for African varieties (except NigE), since (a) schwa is marginal in these varieties and (b) length distinction between vowels is not a general feature. There are two subtypes of the 5-vowel system for short vowels, depending on particular mergers:

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KIT

FOOT

DRESS

LOT TRAP/STRUT

Figure 1.

5-vowel system – Type 1

KIT DRESS

FOOT LOT/STRUT TRAP

Figure 2.

5-vowel system – Type 2

Type 1, with merger of TRAP and STRUT is found in BlSAfE, EAfrE, GhE, GhP. Type 2 with merger of LOT and STRUT is found in CamE, Kamtok and NigP. In WSAfE and CFE though there is a 6-way distinction amongst the short monophthongs, there is a chain shift amongst the front vowels, with each vowel moving one step higher and /
/ becoming centralised (as
]). I now turn to the specific characteristics of each lexical set in Africa-Asia varieties. In SgE the DRESS and TRAP classes appear to have merged (to []) (Brown 1988: 134) or in Wee’s formulation (in this Handbook) there may well be a crossover effect in terms of vowel height, with [] for TRAP and [æ] for DRESS. Further research is needed to confirm this crossover of a whole class rather than of individual and isolated words as sometimes happens in other varieties. KIT

In several varieties (WSAfE, StHE, CFE, InSAfE) KIT is ‘split’ into a subclass with [
] (in velar and glottal contexts) and a subclass with a centralised vowel [
] (in all other contexts). KIT may variably be realised as [i] in StHE, CFE, all L2 African and south-east Asian varieties. In all L2 African and south-east Asian varieties it may also be lengthened in certain contexts (as with all potential long-short pairs, since length is non-contrastive).

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DRESS

[e] is the main variant in WSAfE, StHE, CFE, InSAfE, EAfrE, CamE, Kamtok, IndE and PakE. [ε] is the main variant in BlSAfE, GhE, LibSE, NigP, GhP and PhlE. In southern NigE there is free variation between [e] and [ε]. [æ] occurs in SgE and MalE; [a] is the usual variant in northern NigE. TRAP

A raised variant [] is usual in WSAfE, CFE, BlSAfE, SgE and to some extent InSAfE. The usual variant is [æ] in StHE, LibSE, IndE, PakE and MalE. [a] is the usual realisation in LibSE, NigE, NigP, GhE, GhP, CamE and Kamtok. [] is reported in PhlE. In SgE TRAP and DRESS appear to cross over, as discussed above. LOT

[] is a major variant in WSAfE, StHE, CFE, InSAfE and southern NigE. [ç] is found in WSAfE, BlSAfE, GhE, CamE, Kamtok, GhP, NigP, IndE, SgE and MalE. [ç˘] is reported as a major variant in IndE, PakE and InSAfE. [a] is the usual realisation in northern NigE; [] in LibSE and PhlE. STRUT

[ç] occurs in CamE, NigP, southern NigE and Kamtok. [] occurs in StHE, InSAfE, LibSE, IndE, PakE and PhlE. [a] occurs in CFE, EAfrE, GhE and GhP. [] is the usual variant in northern NigE, SgE and MalE. FOOT

A weakly rounded [] occurs in WSAfE and StHE. A rounded [] occurs in CFE, InSAfE, NigE, IndE, PakE, and as a variant in GhE, LibSE and GhP. A short [u] is the usual realisation in BlSAfE, EAfrE, GhE, CamE, LibSE, Kamtok, GhP, NigP, SgE, MalE, PhlE, and as a variant in PakE. 2.2

The long monophthongs

In most L2s in Africa and south-east Asia vowel length is not distinctive. In the sets KIT – FLEECE; FOOT – GOOSE; LOT – THOUGHT the usual realisations are [i u ç]. There is some variation within these sets (described below), and even more variation in BATH and NURSE. FLEECE

[i ] occurs in WSAfE, StHE, CFE, InSAfE, northern NigE, IndE, PakE and occasionally in GhE, GhP and MalE. [i] is reported in BlSAfE, EAfrE, southern NigE, GhE, CamE, LibSE, NigP, Kamtok, GhP, SgE and MalE. [
] is reported as a lesser variant in IndE. In PhlE there is no distinction between KIT and FLEECE, though under the influence of Philippine languages there appears to be free variation, with a tendency towards [i ] rather than [i] or [
].

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GOOSE

There is symmetry with the FLEECE vowel in all varieties. Thus [u ] occurs in all the varieties that use [i ]; and [u] in all the varieties that use [i]. In WSAfE a noticeably centralised equivalent [u ] occurs. In PhlE there appears to be free variation between [u:] and [u] or [], with a tendency towards [u ]. THOUGHT

[ç ] occurs in WSAfE, InSAfE, PakE and as lesser alternatives in GhE, GhP and IndE. [o ] is used in WSAfE, StHE, CFE and northern NigE. In StHE a diphthongal variant [ç´] also occurs. Unlengthened [ç] or [o] occurs in BlSAfE, EAfrE, southern NigE, GhE, CamE, LibSE, NigP, GhP, Kamtok, IndE, SgE, MalE and PhlE. NURSE

There is immense variation in the realisation of the NURSE vowel: [ ]

in the non-rhotic varieties, WSAfE, StHE (occasionally), CFE, InSAfE and in the rhotic IndE, and as an occasional variant in GhE and GhP; [a ] in northern NigE and StHE and as a lesser alternative in IndE; [ε] in BlSAfE, southern NigE, GhE, GhP, NigP, in the rhotic PhlE;and as a lesser alternative in CamE; [a] in EAfrE and as a lesser alternative in NigE; [] in LibSE, and PakE (rhotic) and as a lesser alternative in IndE; [ç] in CamE; [´] in SgE, MalE and as a lesser alternative in IndE; [e] in Kamtok; [ø ] in WSAfE. BATH

The usual values are as follows: [ ] in WSAfE, StHE, InSAfE, IndE, PakE, and as an alternative in CFE; [a] in CFE, EAfrE, southern NigE, GhE, CamE, NigP, Kamtok and GhP; [] in SgE, MalE, PhlE and as an alternative in CFE; [ ] in BlSAfE; [a ] in northern NigE and as a lesser alternative in GhE and GhP; [æ] in LibSE; [ç ] or [Å ] in WSAfE and [Å ] in CFE. 2.3.

Diphthongs

FACE

[e
] occurs in WSAfE, StHE, InSAfE, PakE, and as a lesser alternative in BlSAfE, GhE, GhP and MalE;

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1103

[
] or slightly lower or backed equivalents of the nucleus occurs in WSAfE, CFE and BlSAfE; [e] occurs in EAfrE, NigE, GhE, CamE, LibSE, NigP, Kamtok, GhP, SgE, MalE and PhlE; [e ] occurs as a lesser alternative in PakE and NigP; [ei] occurs as a lesser variant in GhE and GhP. PRICE

[a
] [
] [
] [
] [ai] [i] [ç
] [a ] [a] [ae] [ ]

occurs in WSAfE, StHE (occasionally), InSAfE, NigE, IndE and PakE; occurs in EAfrE and PhlE; occurs in BlSAfE; occurs as an alternative form in WSAfE; occurs in GhE, CamE, Kamtok, GhP, SgE, MalE and as an alternative form in NigE, LibSE and CFE; occurs in CFE; occurs in StHE; occurs in LibSE; occurs as a lesser alternative in Kamtok, GhE and GhP; a diphthong, occurs in NigP; occurs in WSAfE and StHE.

MOUTH

[a] occurs in CFE (before voiced segments), StHE, EAfrE, NigE, GhE, CamE, GhP, IndE and PakE. Nuclei with [] or [] are reported in WSAfE, InSAfE and PhlE. The glide element [u], rather than [], is reported in LibSE (as a lesser alternative), Kamtok, SgE and MalE. [æ] is reported in WSAfE; [a] in CFE (before voiceless segments); [ç] in BlSAfE; [u] in LibSE; and [ao] in NigP. Monophthongal qualities also occur: [ ] in WSAfE; [o] in BlSAfE; and [a] as a lesser alternative in GhE and GhP. CHOICE

[çI] occurs in WSAfE, StHE, CFE, InSAfE, BlSAfE, IndE and PakE, NigE; [çi] occurs in GhE, CamE, Kamtok, GhP, IndE, SgE and MalE; [o
] occurs in WSAfE, StHE, EAfrE, and PhlE; [çe] occurs in NigP and as a lesser alternative in IndE; [], [
] or [i] occur in LibSE. GOAT

[o]

occurs in EAfrE, southern NigE, GhE, CamE, LibSE, NigP, Kamtok, GhP, SgE, MalE and PhlE; [ç] is reported for BlSAfE; [o ] occurs in northern NigE, IndE, PakE, and as lesser alternatives in NigP and MalE;

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[o] occurs in StHE, InSAfE and as lesser alternatives in GhE and GhP; [ç] occurs in BlSAfE; [] is reported in PakE; Lowered and fronted nuclei also occur: [] or [œ] or [] in WSAfE; [] or [] in CFE. SQUARE

[e ] [ ] []

occurs in WSAfE, CFE, InSAfE and IndE; occurs in WSAfE and IndE; occurs in BlSAfE, GhE, CamE, LibSE, Kamtok, GhP and as a lesser alternative in MalE; [æ] occurs in SgE, MalE and as a lesser alternative in LibSE; [e] occurs in Kamtok, PhlE and as a lesser alternative in LibSE; [ea] or [εa] occur in GhE, NigE, NigP and GhP; [i] occurs in StHE; [ia] in southern NigE and [e] or [
] in PakE. NEAR

The diphthongal realisations are as follows: [
] [i] [iε] [i] [
a] [ia]

in WSAfE, IndE, PakE and (as a lesser alternative) in StHE; in StHE, LibSE, SgE and MalE; in GhE, GhP and CamE, and as [ijε] in InSAfE; in CFE; in EAfrE; in Kamtok and as a lesser alternative in GhE and GhP, and as [ija] in NigP.

Monophthongal [e] is reported in BlSAfE, and as lesser alternatives, [j
] in WSAfE and [i ] in MalE. CURE

There is a great array of variation here. Among the diphthongal realisations are the following: [] in WSAfE and PakE; [] in CFE; [a] in EAfrE; [ua] in NigE and Kamtok; [ua] or [uç] in GhE and GhP; [uwç] in NigP. Monophthongal values are reported in the following: [ç˘] in SAfE; [o] in BlSAfE and LibSE;

Synopsis: the phonology of English in Africa and South and Southeast Asia

[ç] [u] 2.4.

1105

in CamE, SgE, MalE and as lesser alternatives in GhE, Kamtok and GhP; in PhlE (with postvocalic /r/). Other vowels

happY The variants are as follows: [i ] in InSAfE, and as lesser alternatives in CFE and IndE; [i>] in WSAfE and CFE; [i] in GhE, CamE, LibSE, NigP, Kamtok, GhP, SgE and MalE; [
] in BlSAfE, EAfrE, IndE, PakE, PhlE and as lesser alternatives in GhE and GhP; [i
] in NigE. lettER The variants are as follows: [] in WSAfE, CFE, LibSE, IndE (plus postvocalic /r/), SgE and MalE; [ε] in PhlE (plus postvocalic /r/) and in InSAfE; [a] in EAfrE, NigE, GhE, CamE, NigP, Kamtok, GhP; [] in BlSAfE; [] in PakE. commA The variants are as follows: [] in WSAfE, CFE, LibSE, SgE and MalE; [] in WSAfE and CFE; [a] in NigE, GhE, CamE, NigP, Kamtok, GhP and IndE; [] in InSAfE and PhlE; [] in BlSAfE; [] in PakE and as lesser alternatives in LibSE and MalE. horsES The variants are as follows: [] in InSAfE, LibSE, IndE, SgE, MalE and as lesser alternative in CFE; [] in CFE; [i] in BlSAfE; [
] as an alternative in IndE; [
] in PakE; [ε] in PhlE.

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3.

Consonants

3.1.

Stops

P, T, K may be unaspirated in WSAfE (in some subvarieties), CFE and InSAfE (variably) and very commonly in IndE, PakE, SgE and PhlE. No such deaspiration is reported in StHE and the African varieties researched. T, D are retroflexed in IndE and PakE, and occasionally in InSAfE. Glottalising of syllable-final T is reported for GhE and to a lesser extent GhP. Final stops have glottalised variants in MalE. P is realised as [p], [f] or [Φ] and B as [b] or [v] in northern NigE. T is realised as [ts] in some GhE varieties. St Helena B occurs as [ß] occasionally, in intervocalic position. 3.2.

Fricatives

The most striking feature among fricatives is that ALL varieties (except WSAfE) treat /θ/ and /ð/ as something other than an interdental fricative. /θ ð/ are realised similarly as a pair as follows: [t  d] in CFE, InSAfE, IndE, PakE; [t d] in EAfrE, GhE, LibSE (here [t] occurs variably with [θ]), Kamtok, SgE, MalE, PhlE; Variably as [t t] for // and [d d] for /ð/ in StHE, BlSAfE, GhE and GhP; Affricate realisations [t] and [dð] are reported as lesser variants in GhE and GhP. /θ/ is realised as [f] word-finally in some words in EAfrE, GhE, LibSE, GhP and SgE. In EAfrE /θ/ and /ð/ may be realised as [t s f] and [d z v] respectively. Other changes to fricatives are less widespread: Velar fricatives [x] and [] occur in WSAfE and CFE, mainly in borrowings, place names, proper names etc. H may be voiced in WSAfE, CFE, BlSAfE, InSAfE, IndE, PakE; it may also be murmured in the last three varieties. H may also be dropped in InSAfE, IndE and MalE, especially by Tamil speakers. In IndE it may be dropped in initial position with tonal adjustments, amongst Panjabi speakers. H may be substituted by [j] in CFE or by [j] or [w] amongst Tamil speakers of InSAfE, IndE and MalE. It may be dropped before [j] in CamE (e.g. in human). Hypercorrection may also occur in those varieties that drop H. F occurs as an approximant (‘antedental’) in CFE, InSAfE and IndE. In northern NigE F is realised as [f], [p] or [Φ]; for many speakers of IndE as [ph]; and in basilectal PhlE as [p].

Synopsis: the phonology of English in Africa and South and Southeast Asia

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V has the following realisations: an approximant [] in InSAfE and IndE; [v] or [f] in northern NigE; [b] or [f] in GhP, especially intervocalically; [bh] amongst Bengali speakers of IndE; [b] in basilectal PhlE; [v] or [w] in StHE, IndE and amongst Tamil speakers of MalE. / / have the following realisations: [s z] variably in CFE, BlSAfE, EAfrE and IndE; [ ] in GhE. In addition / / may occur as [z] occasionally in CFE, CamE and (in final position) in MalE. It may occur as [s] occasionally in CFE and GhE. Z occurs as [d] occasionally in IndE and amongst Malay and Chinese speakers of MalE. 3.3.

Affricates

/t d/ have the following realisations: [s z] in EAfrE; [t d] in GhE; [ts ds] in PhlE; In addition /t / is realised as [ ] in BlSAfE, EAfrE, occasionally in CamE and word-finally in LibSE. /d/ is realised as [] in CFE, BlSAfE, EAfrE, among Yoruba speakers of NigE and word-finally in LibSE. It is realised as [z] amongst Malay speakers of MalE. 3.4.

Nasals

N is retroflex before [] and [] in InSAfE, IndE and PakE. Epenthetic [n] occurs before consonants in EAfrE. Vowels are nasalised before final nasals, with subsequent loss of the nasal consonant in CFE, GhE and LibSE. The suffix –ING is realised as [n`] in StHE and GhE. 3.5.

Liquids

The rhotic varieties are IndE, PakE and PhlE. There is occasional rhoticity in some varieties of WSAfE, especially with –er suffixes. There is r ~ l alternation in EAfrE, GhE and GhP, depending on speakers’ home languages. R is regularly

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realised as [l] amongst Chinese speakers of MalE. Linking [r] is absent in GhE, CamE and LibSE, and is rare to non-existent in varieties of South African English. L-vocalisation is reported in GhE and LibSE. Dark […] is very common in CFE; whereas light [l] prevails in IndE and amongst older speakers of InSAfE. 3.6.

Glides and approximants

[h] occurs in place of [j] or [w] in CFE (and other varieties of Afrikaans-influenced English in South Africa). W is replaced by [hw] in wh- words in GhE. /j/ occurs occasionally as [] in WSAfE. Clusters of /t/ plus /j/ and /d/ plus /j/ occur as [t d] occasionally in InSAfE and other varieties of South African English. There is dropping of /j/ (yod-dropping) in NigE, GhE and CamE. W and V occur interchangeably in StHE (frequently), occasionally in IndE and rarely in InSAfE.

4.

Common phonological processes

Two processes are very commonly reported. Final devoicing of obstruents occurs in StHE, CFE, BlSAfE, NigE, GhE, CamE, Kamtok, SgE and MalE. Consonantcluster reduction is reported to varying degrees in CFE, BlSAfE, GhE, LibSE, NigP, GhP, IndE, PakE, SgE, MalE and PhlE.

5.

Stress, tone and intonation

Assuming a continuum between syllable timing and stress timing, the number of varieties which exhibit tendencies towards syllable timing is impressive: InSAfE, BlSAfE, EAfrE, NigE, GhE, NigP, GhP, IndE, PakE, SgE, MalE and PhlE. For these varieties vowel reduction is not as common as in RP and in some of them [] is rare, or more a feature of fast and connected speech, rather than of citation forms. On the other hand some of these varieties are reported to avoid syllabic consonants, in favour of schwa plus consonant: IndE, SgE, MalE and PhlE. All varieties that were cited in connection with syllable timing also display stress shifts in individual words or sets of words, in relation to RP norms. These are often shifts to the right (e.g. real
ise rather than RP
realise); though some words in some varieties exhibit shifts to the left (e.g. from penultimate to antepenultimate syllables as in CamE a
dolescence, rather than RP ado
lescence). Most of these varieties do not use stress to differentiate between pairs like
absent (adj.) versus ab
sent (verb). As far as intonation is concerned most varieties report a smaller range of intonational contours compared to RP. Whilst this area is one that needs closer attention, statements like the following will illustrate this general claim:

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1109

CFE: great use of rising intonation in statements; BlSAfE: tone and information units are shorter than in RP; NigE: Sentence stress is rarely used for contrast. Given information is rarely de-accented; MalE: less change of intonation (or pitch direction) occurs in sentences compared to RP. A number of African varieties of English make use of lexical and (sometimes) grammatical tone, and report an interaction between stress and tone: NigE, GhE, NigP and Kamtok.

6.

Conclusion

It is clear from this synopsis that varieties of English in Africa-Asia, especially the L2 varieties, share a great deal of phonological similarities. Particularly striking are the use of a 5-vowel system, plus diphthongs in many varieties; the tendency towards syllable timing; the non-fricative realisation of // and //. In the interests of fidelity to the original transcriptions minute differences between vowels were retained in this summary, rather than attempting to ‘normalise’ some transcriptions (e.g. [a] versus [] versus []), in the hope of uncovering further broad phonological similarities. This synopsis must therefore be taken as a starting rather than end point of the challenging but stimulating study of the systemic phonological similarities, as well as of the phonetic differences within those overall similarities amongst the Englishes of Africa-Asia.

References Brown, Adam 1988 Vowel differences between Received Pronunciation and the English of Malaysia and Singapore: which ones really matter? In Joseph Foley (ed.), New Englishes – the Case of Singapore, 129–147. Singapore: Singapore University Press.

Global synopsis: phonetic and phonological variation in English world-wide Edgar W. Schneider

1.

Introduction

Even on the basis of a documentation as rich and extensive as the one in this Handbook, cataloguing the pronunciations of English in a global perspective seems a herculean task, due to several basic problems and pitfalls involved. For one thing, there is the immense amount of variability that can be observed: While the range of possible pronunciations is naturally constrained by the conditions and limitations imposed by articulatory space and organs, the amount of detail of sound realizations – idiosyncratic, phonologically conditioned or not, socially or regionally motivated – is extremely difficult to grasp and categorize. Essentially, a resultant problem of this is the difference in levels of details of phonetic descriptions from one study or description to another, also in this Handbook: it ranges from minute phonetic analyses with lots of diacritics to essentially broad phonemic categorizations. Secondarily, conventional descriptive models, most notably the structuralist idea of a phoneme system selected by any individual language (or variety?) from an infinite set of articulatory possibilities, fail in the absence of phonological analyses of practically all nonstandard varieties of English (the only attempt at a systematic analysis of the phonological system of a local dialect that I know of is McDavid 1985; Wells 1982 contains a few sections on regionally varying phonemic part-systems and many remarks on facets of the phonologies of many varieties). Essentially, this is the framework in which most descriptions operate; feature-based theories or other advances of phonological theory are therefore largely ignored here. It is clear that the phonemic load of individual phonemes (as determined by their frequency overall, or the number of minimal pairs that they enter) varies greatly, even in “Standard” varieties (for instance, in RP, // is known to be relatively rare), and whether two phonetically observed sounds are to be credited the status of phonemes or not is a matter of more detailed analysis and argumentation in many instances (cf. Gleason 1970): take the fact that argumentation is required to underline the status of affricates as single phonemes in English, or the observation that /h/ and /ŋ/ always occur in complementary distribution. Similarly, certain sounds are assumed to have merged in certain varieties, but then some mergers have turned out to be near-mergers only (a concept which oscillates fuzzily between a phonological and a phonetic perspective). Some sounds are assumed to have “changed” in certain ways in certain varieties – but then some of

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Edgar W. Schneider

these changes have been found to be a matter of lexical incidence, i.e. to affect some words in which the sound (i.e. “phoneme”) occurs but not others; so has the phonetic realization of the phoneme in question been changed, or has a phonemic split occurred? (Essentially, this relates to the fundamental distinction between phonetically gradual “neogrammarian change” and abrupt “lexical diffusion”, as discussed, for instance, by Labov 1981.) Thirdly, it seems equally difficult to tackle the most interesting question involved, that for the motivation behind accent differences. Do natural principles play a role, could it be the case that chain shifts or other phonemic rotations diffuse globally? Possibly so – but then, the distribution of vocalic space in many varieties, including RP, is anything but symmetric (or to be accounted for by a principle of an optimal distribution of the available vocalic space). Are sociopsychological motivations decisive, like a group’s desire to express their identity by some phonetic means loaded with symbolic meaning? Possibly so, but then, which variants are likely to be chosen for such functions, and why – or does such a selection simply occur haphazardly? Is all variability barely local? The set of possibly pertinent parameters seems endless. What the above considerations are meant to imply is that any attempt at a bird’s eye view, as in this paper, unavoidably is bound to leak: Rich as the documentation of the accent variability of English in a global perspective is, it seems impossible to do more than touch upon a few generalizing tendencies and observations. For more details, and generalizations at different levels, the reader is referred back to the individual papers and the regional synopses. By necessity, the coverage of the material in what follows is selective, and abstracting from many other facts and observations which might be equally interesting but cannot be addressed here. What follows is a synopsis – it is neither a thorough documentation nor a systematic analysis.

2.

Methodological background

To provide a uniform basis for the cataloguing of the global pronunciation variability, I devised a checklist of phonetic features that was to be specified for each of the varieties under investigation. Essentially, the checklist was meant to anticipate and provide a categorial framework for the major variants that I expected to come up, based upon my familiarity with the variation of English and a perusal of some pertinent publications. It is divided into four sections. The first one, with 121 items by far the most voluminous one, covers the phonetic realization of vowels, based upon Wells’ (1982) lexical sets. For each of the key words, both one or two “canonical” realizations (as usually found in the major reference accents of BrE and AmE) and a few possible types of articulatory modifications (backing / fronting, raising / lowering, monophthongization / diphthongization with offglides, rounding / unrounding), with sample phonetic symbols, were speci-

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fied. The second section, with items numbered 122 through 136, probed into vocalic distributions, i.e. asked whether specific mergers or similar phenomena occurred in the respective regions. The third section, consisting of items number 137 through 174, checked the phonetic realization and distributional facts concerning consonants, and the fourth section, with five items numbered 175–179, asked for prosodic features and intonation contours. In each case, the informants (i.e. the authors of the respective articles) were asked to indicate whether the respective feature occurs normally and is widespread (to be symbolized by an “A”), occurs with restrictions (“B”), or does not normally occur (“C”). Admittedly, this is a fairly crude categorization. In particular, category “B” covers a variety of fairly distinct constellations, namely, as spelled out in the instructions, that the feature “occurs sometimes / occasionally”, that it is found “with some speakers / groups”, or that it is restricted “to some environments” – in other words, it encompasses restricted frequency but also the cases of external, social and internal, linguistic conditioning. Category C is of course also possibly open to interpretation, given that it is practically not possible to positively document that a certain phenomenon does not occur at all in a given region; but the possibility of idiosyncratic occurrences should be provided for by the description of the category as “not normally” occurring. A number of contributors left many cells blank, indicating that these are cases of non-occurrence, i.e. “C”. Occasionally, some authors felt a need to be more specific, and they suggested or generated intermediate categories like “BC”. In such cases, specific details or added comments (which also were provided in individual cases) were put aside and collected in a separate file; for the table and mapping procedure itself, the articles themselves were checked for more acccurate information (so that a clear categorization could be achieved), but usually “B” tended to be the catch-all category for such intermediate instances. In general, however, the feature listing worked well, and some contributors stated that they found this preconceived categorization an interesting and useful tool for comparative analyses. Very rarely did a variant come up which could not be grasped by the suggested categories. Of course, the variants suggested are not mutually exclusive: several alternative pronunciations of a given key word may co-occur in a given region – typically one as the major one (“A”) and others as group-specific or environment-specific (“B”) variants. In that sense, the various groups of phenomena suggested for the same key word, especially in the first section on vowels, belong together as possible variants of a variable. The list of features itself, which encompasses a total of 179 items and is thus fairly long, is made fully accessible, as distributed to all article authors, in the Appendix to this paper. Regrettably, not all contributors responded, however. I would like to thank those who did, and also Raj Mesthrie and Kate Burridge, who practically produced almost all of the feature lists for Africa and Asia and the Pacific region themselves, based upon the articles. Similarly, a few of the lists for

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Edgar W. Schneider

the Americas and the Caribbean (notably, the ones for the Urban South, Barbados, and Suriname) were compiled by me. In the following discussion, vowels are classified into “short” and “long” ones. The quotation marks are meant to indicate that the labels are conventional categorizing devices rather than phonetically descriptive statements, given that the relationship between the phonological “length” and the physical duration of a sound is a highly complex and problematic one, and that lengthening and shortening processes are common in many varieties. Hence, “short” is meant to imply “classed as short in RP (as a primary reference accent) and short in the majority of (but not necessarily all) accents”, and vice versa for “long”.

3.

Vowels

3.1.

“Short” vowels

3.1.1. KIT Canonical [
] occurs throughout the British Isles, North America and the Caribbean, in Australia and the Pacific varieties, as well as, occasionally, in Africa and Asia (IndE, PakE). Tensed [i] is widespread in sub-Saharan Africa and common in South-East Asia, and a possible variant in some BrE (mostly West Midlands), AmE and (eastern) AusE dialects, in parts of the Caribbean, South Africa, South Asia, and occasionally elsewhere. The so-called KIT-Split, with some words of this class being raised and others centralized, characterizes SAfE but ties in generally with centralization tendencies of this vowel found mostly in southern hemisphere Englishes. Centralization to schwa (or a position close to it) counts as a shibboleth of NZE, and it can also be heard in the very north of the British Isles (e.g. Shetland and Orkney, Scotland), in some forms of SAfE and StHE, and occasionally in BrE, AmE (notably urban, northern types) and CarE varieties, but not normally in WAfE and Asia. Lowering to [e/ε] is found in some urban varieties in Northern Ireland and Scotland, and comes up incipiently in California and Canada. Off-gliding, with this vowel, as a regular characteristic is exclusive to the Southern AmE accent, and a possibility in a few other dialects of AmE but not found elsewhere. 3.1.2. DRESS The main variant of this vowel around the globe is a front half-open [ε], to be heard in the British Isles, America and the Caribbean, most of West Africa, SouthEast Asia, and the Pacific region. Raising to [e] is restricted to a small number of regional dialects in L1 varieties and occurs with some currency in AusE and NZE, and a few African and Asian countries (EAfE, CamP, some SAfE accents, PakE and, less commonly, elsewhere in Asia). Other variants are quite restricted, includ-

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ing lowering (in South-East Asia), backing (e.g. in northern AmE dialects), and offgliding (SAmE, again). 3.1.3. TRAP For the TRAP vowel, two major realizations seem to be competing globally. The half-open front [Q] is the traditional variant of conservative RP and many L1 dialects, predominant throughout North America, in many BrE accents (mostly throughout the South), and in the southern hemisphere (SAfE, AusE). However, even in southern types of BrE and modern RP this seems currently to be giving way to a lowered [a], the type which has traditionally characterized northern as against southern BrE dialects and is characteristic of the Caribbean and L2-varieties in West and East Africa (in Asia it is restricted to PhlE). Other variants are considerably less widespread; they include raising (characteristic of NZE; a possibility in some BrE and AmE dialects, and fairly common in South African and South-East Asian accents, AbE, and on Fiji and Hawai’i) and offgliding (regular in SAmE and AAVE, and possible in some other dialects of AmE as well as BrE). 3.1.4. STRUT Realizations of the STRUT vowel display a wide range of phonetic variability. Interestingly enough, the high back [U] variant which in Britain is perhaps the most salient one, being a shibboleth of northern as against southern English accents, seems effectively restricted to the north of the British Isles and not to have been selected as a major type in any of the colonial varieties. The RP variant [√] is applied widely and all around the globe, but there are a fairly large number of variants, occurring also practically everywhere. These include centralization to [´/å] (especially in NZE and Pacific varieties) or, mostly in BrE, a “compromise” [F] between central and the high-back northern types, backing and lowering, e.g. to [ç], in some northern US, Caribbean, and African accents, and also, though less commonly, fairly front realizations. 3.1.5. LOT, CLOTH Modern dictionaries tend to present the pronunciation of this sound as distinguishing BrE (with a rounded low back [] realization) from AmE (unrounded [A]), but in reality this applies only with severe limitations, with the respective lead variant being broadly predominant but by far not the only one: [A] occurs regionally in Britain (e.g. in the southwest and in East Anglia) just like [] can be heard in parts of North America (in the Midwest and West, New England, and Canada) and of the Caribbean. The “American”, unrounded, variant predominates in varieties that have historically descended from AmE, in Liberia and in the Philippines, the

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“British” one in the antipodean and Pacific region. A back and slightly raised [ç] can be heard in northern British, Welsh, and Irish varieties as well as, quite widely, in Africa (West and South) and Asia. A low front [a] in these words is characteristic of much of the Caribbean and Pacific P&Cs and can also be found in a few dialects of AmE, in southern Ireland, British Creole, and northern NigE. South Asian Englishes, and their descendant InSAfE, are marked by the length of their half-open back vowel realization. 3.1.7. FOOT A high and back (but not fully peripheral) [U] realization of this vowel is the default variant in most varieties all around the globe. The tensed and fully high and back [u] is a regional variant in some dialects of northern Britain, America, the Caribbean, the Pacific contact varieties, and in all parts of Africa and Asia. Some dialects of British, American and Caribbean Englishes may also have more centralized variants. Fronting of the FOOT vowel primarily characterizes southwestern EngE, SAmE, and NZE. 3.2.

“Long” vowels

3.2.1. FLEECE In these words, a long high front [i:] realization is the main variant practically everywhere. Regional L1-dialects, in many parts of Britain, in AusE (most strongly in the socially marked Broad type), and also in Canada, in New Zealand and in TobC, tend to show upgliding, with movements ranging from fairly short [Ii] to (much less commonly) fairly wide [´i/ei] glides. Centralizing offglides ([i´], etc.) are possible but relatively rare, largely restricted to IrE, WelE and SAmE. Shortening of this vowel occurs rarely in L1 contexts (e.g. in Shetland and Orkney, IrE, and a few American and Caribbean accents) but is common in Africa, South-East Asia, and the Pacific. 3.2.2. BATH, PALM, START Simplifying matters a bit, the three main variants of the BATH vowel can be regarded as shibboleths of major L1 accents: a low back and long [A˘] of southern EngE and RP, a low front [a] of northern EngE, and a front and slightly raised [Q] of AmE. In Britain, transition areas and the south-west show mixed types, in particular with respect to length. In America, low variants are associated with Boston and New England, and are common in many parts of the Caribbean; other types found include raised (mainly in the North) and offgliding (mainly in the South) pronunciations, as well as forms with varying length. Australia and New Zealand

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tend to side with southern England here, although lower-class and eastern accents of AusE have a widely-noted [Q] in such words, and NZE has a central and slightly raised [å] variant. Most South African and South Asian accents also prefer the RP variant, as do the South-East Asian varieties with respect to quality but with a shorter realization. On the other hand, most parts of West and East Africa and the Pacific varieties prefer the [a] variant, while LibSE follows AmE. For PALM and START, there is variability between back (predominant in North America, South Africa and Asia) and front (strong in parts of Britain and dominant in West and East Africa) realizations; the Caribbean has both, and in Australia and New Zealand the quality tends to be rather central. The vowels are usually long, though shortening is possible in some dialects; off-gliding occurs relatively rarely (in some dialects of AmE and, socially conditioned, AusE). 3.2.3. GOOSE The main pronunciation of words with the GOOSE vowel is practically the same all around the globe, a high back, rounded [u]. In addition, there are two interesting variants with some currency. It seems that the pronunciation of GOOSE is being fronted, moving to the center of the vocalic space or even beyond, in some socially conditioned varieties in many countries (notably of the southern hemisphere: WhSAfE, AusE and NZE) and regions (notably SAmE), a regional pattern which gives the label “Southern Shift” a truly global outreach (Labov 1994: 202) and establishes interesting sound change parallels between varieties which are geographically fairly widely apart. While the fronting of [u] seems to have received most attention in these broadly “southern” accents, it occurs also in some British (from urban Scots to southwestern English) and American (including CanE, WhMwE, NEngE) dialects. The second major variant is a gliding movement, with the glide being usually a fairly short [Uu] movement but the onset occasionally also varying between [I], [] and even [ç]. This is fairly common in the North of England, in some varieties of AmE, and also in AusE and NZE, though it does not occur at all in the Caribbean and in the African and Asian varieties. 3.2.4. THOUGHT, NORTH, FORCE The most widely audible realization of the vowel in these words world-wide is a low back, rounded [ç˘]. Subject to lexical, regional, social, and stylistic conditioning a more closed [o ] is also widely used in most regions; no overall distributional patterning seems discernible. Other types, including [A˘], [ç˘], [a˘], and various diphthongal, mostly ingliding, realizations occur as well, usually in more tightly circumscribed regions. Short forms of one of the two main qualities characterize African and Asian varieties.

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3.2.5. NURSE In practically all regions the main pronunciation of this vowel is a long and central vowel, [Œ:/‘], yet in addition to this there is a great deal of variability, little of which can be systematized. This includes backing, e.g. to [ç] or [o], e.g. in northern England, Tobago or Cameroon; [√] in Scotland, CajE, LibSE, or PakE; fronting to [E] (widespread in West Africa and the Pacific and common also in the Philippines, in AbE in Australia, in Jamaica and other Caribbean islands, as well as in Scotland and some urban British accents); fronting and rounding to [ø], e.g. in Wales or NZE; lowering to [a:] or a short [a] (e.g. in SurCs, EAfrE, or forms of WAfE); and diphthongization (in some dialects of AmE). 3.3.

Diphthongs

3.3.1. FACE In a global perspective, the pronunciations of FACE words can be categorized into two distinct types, a diphthongal one (which in turn can be sub-divided according to the height of the onset) and a monophthongal one, and these serve as fairly good diagnostics for some main regional accents. The RP variant, [eI], is also the predominant one throughout North America, in WhSAfE, and in South Asia and the Cultivated accent of Australia. Interestingly enough, in England itself it tends to be socially marked, given that practically all regional dialects have alternative or at least additional pronunciations, usually with lower (e.g. [EI] in the South-west or [QI] in the West Midlands or East Anglia) or backer (e.g. [√I] in the South-east or the West Midlands) onsets. Except for Cultivated speakers, a low and usually also back onset of FACE words constitutes a distinguishing feature of AusE, shared to some extent with NZE. In North America, slightly lowered (e.g. [EI/QI]) or also backed ([√I]) onset realizations can also be heard, predominantly in dialects of SAmE. Conversely, the second major type, a half-close monophthongal [e˘], characterizes Scotland, Ireland, Wales, northern England, most of the Caribbean, some North American dialects, and, with a short vowel (which may also come up in the British Isles), the accents of East and West Africa, South-East Asia, and the Pacific. 3.3.2. PRICE The main variant of this vowel, [aI/ai], can be heard almost everywhere in the English-speaking world, though in addition to it there is a very large number of regional and social variants. The onset may be backed and either round or unrounded, yielding [ç], [Å], [A] or [√]; it may be central and raised, to [√], [ ] or [´], or also fronted and raised, i.e. [Q] or even [E]. The offglide may move to [I], [i] or [e]. Conspicuous and widely known forms include pronunciations with fronted and

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raised onsets in Ireland or the “Broad” accent of AusE, those with backed onsets in London (Cockney), south-western England, and the south-eastern United States, and a central schwa onset in some dialects of BrE and, in prevoiceless contexts, in Canada. Monophthongization is also possible, e.g. to [a˘] as a stereotypical feature of SAmE (general in pre-voiced environments), in some English dialects, and, interestingly enough, given the potential American connection, also in LibSE. 3.3.3. CHOICE In contrast, CHOICE shows relatively little variation, being predominantly [çI] almost everywhere. Some regional British dialects in particular (less so American and Caribbean varieties) exhibit variability of the onset element, which may range from fully open back realizations (e.g. in parts of Ireland) to centralized ones, rarely also raised ones. 3.3.4. MOUTH Although the lead variant of MOUTH, [aU], can be found practically all around the globe and predominates in the vast majority of countries and regions, a wide range of alternative realizations are also possible. Raised and back onsets, e.g. [√u/çU], are characteristic of a few varieties in fairly diverse parts of the world (e.g. Scotland, BrC, ChcE, T&TC, Liberia, and BlSAfE) and occur in others as well. Central schwa onsets characterize the North of England, Scotland and Wales, and can be found under specific conditions (e.g. only before voiceless consonants, as in “Canadian Raising”) in some North American varieties as well, but not elsewhere. Fronting is also scattered fairly widely (regular in East Anglia, BrC, AusE and NZE, SAmE, BahE, CamE, and CFE, and possible also in a few more British and American varieties). Monophthongization to [a˘] is a possibility in northern England, a relatively small region in the eastern US, and CajE, as well as some forms of West and East African English and Australian contact varieties. A high back [o˘] monophthong is reported as the main variant of the dialect of the Shetlands and Orkneys and the SurCs, very rarely from elsewhere. 3.3.5. GOAT Interesting parallels can be observed between the phonetic and regional distributions of the main variants of GOAT and FACE: both tend to have conspicuous monophthongal and ingliding pronunciations in roughly the same regions. Among diphthongal realizations, two main types and a few minor ones can be discerned. A pronunciation with a central schwa onset, [´U] or close to it, is characteristic of RP, AusE/NZE, and a few conservative dialects of North America (NEngE, SAmE, BahE) and comes up in a few more types of BrE and AmE, very rarely in Africa

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and Asia (e.g. PakE). In contrast, [oU], with a back onset, counts as typical of “General American” and seems generally more widespread, being documented not only throughout North America but also in Ireland, Wales, Ghana, South Africa, and in all Pacific P/Cs. A variety of dialectal pronunciations with first elements from the low, mid and high-back regions of the vocalic space occur in vernacular English and South African dialects; in America, fronting of the onset as part of the “Southern shift” seems the most noteworthy dialectal realization. In contrast with all these diphthongs, and as in the case of FACE, a mid-high monophthong realization, [o˘], is remarkably widespread: northern England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, most of the Caribbean, ethnic dialects of AmE, South Asia, all of the Pacific contact varieties including AbE, and, in some cases without quantity conditions, West and East Africa and South-East Asia have it. The ingliding variant, [U´], characterizes north-eastern EngE and JamC, as well as its descendant, BrC. 3.3.6. NEAR This vowel varies primarily by two parameters: rhotic dialects typically (though not invariably) have monophthongal realizations (and, conversely, non-rhotic varieties tend to have inglides to schwa), and the position of the vowel (or glide onset) may vary between a tense [i] and a lower and less fronted [I]. The tense monophthong characterizes Scotland, Ireland, south-western England, and NEngE; tense onsets occur in some African and Asian varieties. Lowered onsets in the [e] or, less commonly, even [E] regions come up in some British, American and Caribbean dialects. EAfE, many West and some South African varieties, dialects of northern England and IrE, and relatively “deep” Caribbean creoles (JamC, SurC) as well as most Pacific P&Cs have fairly long gliding movements from high and tense to fully open positions, e.g. [ia]. 3.3.7. SQUARE Monophthongal realizations of SQUARE, predominantly in rhotic dialects, vary between a half open [E˘], relatively widespread in North America, Africa and Asia (in South-East Asia even more open qualities can be heard), and a half close [e˘] type, to be found in some dialects of BrE (notably ScE and IrE), AmE, CarE and also in Africa, Asia, and Fiji. Diphthongal realizations, typically in non-rhotic dialects and gliding to schwa, mostly start from one of these two positions, but one can also hear variants with even higher (e.g. [iE] in JamC and BrC, and also NZE) or lower (e.g. [Q´] in SAmE of BahE) onsets or more central realizations (e.g. [Œ˘] in central-western areas of England). In NZE, the vowels of NEAR and SQUARE are merging among younger speakers, in a position which is essentially intermediate, possibly a little closer to NEAR.

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3.3.8. CURE Words with CURE have either relatively fronted and lower, [U]-like, realizations or onsets (preferably, it seems, in North American dialects and IrE, also in PakE and StHE) or high and back [u] types (strongly in ScE, some American dialects, T&TCs, SurCs, Ghana, and PhlE); in general, however, there is “a great array of variation here”, in particular throughout Africa and Asia, as Mesthrie observes in his regional synopsis in this volume. A low back [ç] is considered a characteristic realization of AusE and NZE, and also, with distinctive length, a recent innovation of RP. Monophthongal mid-back realizations are also quite common in Africa and South-East Asia; on the other hand, some African regions also have long gliding movements, e.g. [ua] in Nigeria. 3.4.

Weak vowels

3.4.1

happY

Throughout the English-speaking world the realization of a word-final high front vowel tends to be the tense, peripheral [i] type. The more centralized [I] realization occurs in some British and, less commonly, American dialects, and rarely in Africa; as the main variant, it is reported only for the T&TCs, IndE, CajE, and BrC. Mid-front realizations, like [e], occur in British dialects only, notably in ScE, also in IrE and northern England. The same applies to a central [´], found in East Anglia. 3.4.2. lettER This vowel is usually a central schwa. Relatively open realizations in the range between [a] and [√] can be found in Scotland (and, less commonly, Wales), in basilectal CarCs (JamC, TobC, SurCs), and, most consistently, in West and East Africa and all Pacific contact varieties. 3.4.3. horsES The vowel of the regular plural suffix is usually a relatively front and raised [I]. A central schwa occurs as a variant in some British (notably IrE and East Anglia), American (e.g. CanE, NfldE, NEngE, SAmE) and South African dialects, as well as in South-East Asia, Australia, New Zealand, Fiji and Hawai’i. 3.4.4. commA In addition to the canonical and most widespread realization of this vowel, a schwa, some dialects have a more open quality. ScE, WelE, and PakE have [√]; a fully

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open [a] (sometimes also a central [å]) predominates in some basilectal Caribbean varieties (JamC, T&TCs, SurCs), in most of West Africa, and in IndE, and occurs as a dialectal variant in some regions of Britain and America. 3.5.

Vowel distribution

Vocalic mergers tend to be regionally restricted. Among a number of ongoing or recent processes, the following seem noteworthy and have been discussed in the literature: – the “Northern Cities Shift”, a chain shift of vowels in urban centers of the northern US (see Gordon, this volume); – the “Southern Shift”, a pattern of interrelated vocalic changes that has been observed in the Southern US and in a few southern hemisphere countries; – the merger of TRAP and BATH, merging to the low vowel in Scotland and northern England, in parts of the Caribbean, in West African, and in the Pacific, and to the raised one throughout North America and in the Philippines; – homophony between FOOT and GOOSE, to be found in Scotland (and, with restrictions, in other British dialects), in West Africa, South-East Asia, and the Pacific region: – the merger of LOT and THOUGHT, spreading in much of inland-northern and western North America, and also occurring in ScE, some British dialects, West and East Africa, Asia, and the Pacific; – STRUT merging with LOT, predominantly in Jamaica, Nigeria, and Cameroon; – mergers between Mary, merry, and marry in specific regions of the US (frequently discussed in traditional American dialect geography) – homophony between KIT and FLEECE, to be found in South-East Asia, in all Pacific contact varieties, and in much of West Africa; – the merger of NEAR and SQUARE (typically exemplified by ear/air) in New Zealand, shared with part of East Anglia and restricted occurrences elsewhere. Pre-nasal and pre-lateral environments tend to strongly promote vocalic mergers (e.g. pin – pen in SAmE and, less regularly, elsewhere; TRAP – DRESS before /l/ in South Africa, Australia and New Zealand). The same applies to positions before /r/, though in this case the issue of rhoticity plays an even more prominent role. Nasalization of vowels before nasals is reported mainly from North America and some countries in West Africa. Vowel harmony phenomena are uncommon but documented for some Caribbean and West African contact varieties, notably in Jamaica and Cameroon. The “Scottish Vowel Length Rule”, specifying the lengthening of certain vowels in some environments, can also be found in Orkney and Shetland as well as in Newfoundland. The effect of spelling pronunciation in the phonetic realization of unstressed vowels shows in some African and Asian, Caribbean, and even British varieties.

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4.

Consonants

4.1.

Stops: P/T/K, B/D/G

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A weakened aspiration in word-initial voiceless stops is most characteristic of the South Asian varieties of English (IndE and PakE; also SgE and PhlE), and also reported for CajE and, in weaker form, some dialects in Britain, America, and South Africa; conversely, aspiration is said to be particularly strong in Wales (but largely missing from Maori English and FijE as well as the Pacific contact varieties except for HawC). The lenisation and voicing of intervocalic /t/ characterizes North America, IrE, south-western English dialects, and antipodean accents, but is rare elsewhere. Replacing a word-final or intervocalic /t/ by a glottal stop is a process which is common throughout the British Isles and in Malaysia and sometimes found in dialects of AmE, AusE and NZE. The palatalization of word-initial velar stops (e.g. kyan’t ‘can’t’, gyarden ‘garden’) as well as the emergence of /w/ after initial /b/, as in bwoy ‘boy’, is distinctive of the Caribbean and only very rarely noted elsewhere. Affricate realizations of /t/ are reported for Dublin, the Liverpool area, and, most characteristically, certain strata of AusE; GhE may have /ts/. South Asian Englishes have retroflexed realizations of /t/ and /d/, and Saramaccan has implosive voiced stops. 4.2.

Fricatives: TH, F/V, S/Z, SH, H/CH, etc.

Word-initial dental fricatives are realized as stops very widely, practically all around the globe. This applies even more strongly to the voiced /D/ than to the voiceless /T/. [d] for /D/, especially in function words, is the rule rather than the exception throughout most of the Caribbean, in the Pacific contact varieties, in Africa and Asia (in South Asia the stop tends to be dental rather than alveolar) as well as in some dialects in America (notably AAVE, NfldE, and CajE) and Britain (IrE, BrC); in other British and American dialects it may also occur (but tends to be stigmatized). The distribution of [t] for /T/ is very similar. Affricate realizations, on the other hand ([tT] for /t/, [dD] for /d/), are fairly restricted, being possible in some American and Caribbean varieties and in Ghana. In word-central position the voiced dental fricative may be labialized, i.e. replaced by [v], although this is relatively rare (reported from a few British, American, and Caribbean varieties and Maori English). Word-final [f] for /T/ may come up in AAVE, BahE, BrC, Ghana, SgE, and a few more British, American, Caribbean and antipodean dialects. The voicing of word-initial fricatives is characteristic of south-western England but exceptional elsewhere (some evidence is provided for southern Wales, Newfoundland, and the Bahamas). The replacement of word-central labial fricatives by stops, e.g. riba ‘river’, is primarily characteristic of the Caribbean and reported as a rare possibility in a few African and Asian Englishes.

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A voiceless velar fricative exists in ScE, WelE, and Northern Ireland, as well as, mostly in borrowings, WhSAfE and CFE. The deletion of word-initial /h/ occurs variably in England, Wales, NfldE, IndE, MalE, AusE, NZE, and some forms of SAfE; typically it is associated with lower sociolinguistic status and informality. This feature occurs most regularly in the Caribbean (JamE/C, TobC, SurC, and elsewhere) and in the Pacific Pidgins, as well as, not surprisingly (given the possibility of transfer from French), CajE. The opposite process, /h/-insertion as in haxe ‘axe’, is even less widespread and also largely restricted to the Caribbean (with very few possible exceptions). In wordinitial /hj/-clusters /h/ may be deleted in a fairly widely scattered array of varieties: This is reported as occurring regularly in East Anglia, New York City, urban SAmE, CajE, and CamE, and as a conditioned possibility in a few more dialects in Britain, America, the Caribbean, and South Africa. In South Africa, India and Pakistan /h/ may be voiced or murmured, according to our correspondents. Further replacement processes have been observed primarily in specific African and Asian varieties, e.g. [s, z] for /S, Z/, or the substitution of palatal fricatives for affricates. These processes seem to be more restricted and results of language contact. 4.3.

Semi-vowels: W/WH, J

In some regions an older pronunciation of words beginning with wh- with a velar fricative onset has been retained, though this seems to be recessive almost everywhere; a lack of homophony between which and witch is still found in Ireland, Scotland, the very north of England, some American dialects, Ghana and Cameroon, and conservative varieties of AusE and NZE. Replacement of the semi-vowel /w/ by a labiodental fricative /v/ seems fairly common in T&TCs and South Asia and a relatively rare possibility in IrE, NfldE, BahE and CajE. So-called jod-dropping, the pronunciation of words like news, tune, with /u:/ after alveolars, without an intervening /j/, is mainly an essential characteristic of AmE, though even within North America the feature is far from general; in Britain, this feature is associated primarily with northern East Anglia speech, but it comes up also in southern and West Midland dialects, in IrE and WelE. In Australia and New Zealand it is highly variable; occasional reports also come from parts of West Africa. 4.4.

Sonorants: M/N/NG, L, R

In words ending in –ing the realization of the final consonant as an alveolar nasal is practically universal. The velarization of alveolar nasals in word-final position and certain words, e.g. /-ŋ/ in down, is practically exclusive to the Caribbean (and BrC, its daughter variety). The pronunciation of words spelled with as [Ng]

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can be heard in the English West Midlands, a small number of American and some Caribbean varieties, in IndE, CamE, and a few more West African varieties. The vocalization of /l/ in postvocalic positions occurs fairly generally in some dialects of AmE (especially in Philadelphia, New England, and the South), and variably in several others, as well as in AusE and NZE. In BrE this is less common, and typically regionally (concentrated in the south-east) and sociolinguistically conditioned. It is also reported for SgE, EAfrE, and a few West African varieties. The distribution of the light and dark allophones of /l/ is highly complex, depending upon regional and positional constraints, and frequently quite different from that of RP. Upton (this volume) observers a trend for dark /l/ variants to increase in frequency further to the south in England, while ScE prefers dark /l/, as does northern Wales. In onset positions, a clear /l/ occurs almost exclusively in Africa and Asia, while America and the Caribbean show a great deal of variability. A light /l/ in coda position characterizes IndE and a few more varieties on all continents. Alternation between /l/ and /r/, which can be heard in a few varieties in America, the Caribbean, Africa and Asia, seems induced by relatively strong contact effects. Rhoticity, i.e. the pronunciation of /r/ in postvocalic and preconsonantal or word-final position, is generally considered one of the major features distinguishing varieties of the English-speaking world, with non-rhotic pronunciations being considered British and rhotic realizations American – but then, distributional patterns turn out not to be that simple. Essentially, it is true that RP and most dialects of southern and eastern England as well as Wales are non-rhotic, and so are varieties derived from British English in fairly recent history, i.e. practically all of Africa and almost all of the Asian and Pacific accents. Conversely, AmE, particularly in the North and West, is rhotic, as is its daughter variety in Asia, PhlE. However, large parts of the British Isles are in fact rhotic (ScE, IrE, southwestern EngE, and much of northern EngE), and some conservative American accents, stemming from longer and more intense cultural ties with southern England, used to be nonrhotic (like New England, New York City, and the South) and are variably rhotic now, with younger speakers adopting newly-prestigious rhotic pronunciations (it is noteworthy, however, that AAVE has largely retained its lack of rhoticity). The Caribbean is strongly mixed, with some island accents (e.g. Bajan) being rhotic, others (e.g. T&T) non-rhotic, and many variably rhotic (e.g. Jamaica). AusE and NZE are essentially also non-rhotic, but the Otago region on the South Island of NZ has traditionally been rhotic (presumably due to strong Scottish settlement in the 19th century), and in Australia prestigious American accents seem to be exerting some influence. The phonetic realizations of /r/ vary widely. The realization of an intrusive /r/ characterizes non-rhotic areas of Britain and the antipodes and, variably, America and the Caribbean, but it occurs hardly at all in Africa and Asia.

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4.5. Consonant deletion English is fairly unique among the world’s major languages in allowing complex consonant clusters, with sequences of up to four consonants in a row, and so the reduction of such clusters conforms to a natural tendency towards simplification and less marked phonotactic patterns. It is therefore not a surprise that such simplification tendencies are fairly widespread. Omitting a non-functional word-final consonant preceded by another one (e.g. wasp > was’) is the norm in the Caribbean, in ethnic dialects and contact forms of AmE, in LSE and Cameroon, and in South-East Asia, and it also occurs variably in all dialects of AmE, all non-white dialects of SAfE, and also in northern England. If the last consonant is the sole realization of an inflectional morpheme (e.g. helped > help’), the ensuing loss of information inhibits the process, which thus occurs less frequently but is nevertheless documented in roughly the same regions. Word-final single consonants (e.g. cut > cu’) are deleted much more reluctantly. In comparison, the simplification of word-initial consonant clusters (e.g. splash > ‘plash) is much more restricted, mostly to contact-induced varieties, including BrC, JamC, T&TC, and a few West African and Asian varieties.

5.

Prosodic features

The deletion of word-initial unstressed syllables (as in ‘bout, ‘cept) is reported as a regular feature of EAfE, AAVE, Gullah, NfldE, and all antipodean varieties and as occurring variably in several British and a few more American dialects as well as StHE and InSAfE. Shifting of word stress to late syllables in a polysyllabic word is reported for IrE, the T&TCs and a few more Caribbean and American contact varieties, and, most generally, several West African, South African, and Asian varieties. While BrE, AmE, AusE and NZE are stress-timed, the Caribbean Creoles, most West African varieties, most dialects of SAfE, StHE, and all Asian Englishes and Pacific contact varieties (including Maori English and AbE) display a strong tendency toward a syllable-timed rhythm. While it seems quite clear that different intonation contours characterize many varieties of English, and possibly play a major role in accent identification, little systematic research has been devoted to this aspect. One such feature that has been frequently observed and addressed in recent years is the use of a high-rising terminal contour (“HRT”) at the end of affirmative statements. This occurs fairly generally in British, American, Caribbean, Australian and New Zealand dialects and occasionally in Africa and Asia; in general, the phenomenon is assumed to be spreading globally among the young. Whether even some varieties of English can count as tone languages is disputed, but it is clear that in Caribbean Creoles and African varieties tonal distinctions

Global synopsis: phonetic and phonological variation in English world-wide

1127

play a major role. Distinctive tone is claimed to occur regularly in the SurCs and T&TCs, in all Nigerian varieties, and in CamPE.

6. Conclusion The variability of the pronunciation(s) of English(es) around the globe tends to be highly complex, multi-faceted and multidimensional, and strongly conditioned by regionality and sociolinguistic factors. Hence, generalizations are problematic, and unavoidably face the difficulty of simplifying an apparently chaotic reality too radically – in this context the emphasis needs to be on details, individual distributions, and local or regional patterns. Nevertheless, I conclude by suggesting a few general patterns and observations that the data summarized above seem to imply and that should deserve more thorough investigation and possibly substantiation. – The amount of variability found in a given area seems to correlate with the “historical depth” of the independent evolution of the respective variety of English. A very large amount of minute detail characterizes the dialectal landscape of England, and the British Isles in general. In North America, there is still a fairly wide range of pronunciation details to be observed. In contrast, the pronunciations of AusE and NZE are relatively homogeneous (though marked by substantial social class distinctions), and differences within SAfE are primarily socially and ethnically conditioned. African and Asian varieties seem to be relatively more homogeneous – although the amount of variability to be found should not be underestimated. – While British English varieties are characterized by an elaborate system of diphthongs, and long vowels have commonly tended to develop glides, this does not hold for many of the "younger" varieties. African and Asian varieties functioning as or derived from L2's tend to be marked by more uses of monophthongs; they have considerably fewer vowels with offglides than, say, British, American, or "Broad" Australian dialects. – Some varieties display a tendency to reduce the fairly rich system of RP lax ("short") vowels. One cause of this may be to avoidance of schwa (possibly due to a tendency toward syllable-timing rather than stress-timing) and hence the replacement of schwa by some other, fully stressed vowel. Another reason may be the fact that the system of short front vowels of RP and StAmE is relatively crowded, with the vocalic space being divided by as many as four vowels ([I, E, Q, a]). In West African varieties, for instance, the tendency is to have a fivevowel system. The exact arrangement patterns are regional: For example, in CamE and NigP STRUT merges with LOT; elsewhere STRUT tends to join the TRAP class.

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Edgar W. Schneider

– The importance of length in distinguishing phonemes is definitely waning. Even in RP corresponding "long" and "short" vowels (like KIT and FLEECE) are actually distinguished not primarily by their respective duration but rather by slight qualitative differences. In American English, and even more so in African and many Asian varieties, the importance of length is considerably reduced; in some varieties it is simply not contrastive at all. KIT and FLEECE, FOOT and GOOSE, LOT and THOUGHT tend to merge in quite a number of varieties – unconditionally in some, in specific environments (e.g. quite commonly before /l/) in others. – A few ongoing sound changes have been described, but there is no globally uniform process to be observed. The closest thing to a supra-regional sound change seems the tendency to front back vowels as part of the so-called "Southern Shift", to be observed both in southern hemisphere countries and in the Southern US. Conversely, however, in the northern US "short" (or "checked") vowels show a tendency toward an up- and backwards rotation. Basically, it should be possible to categorize sound distributions into some with a practically global outreach and others with rather strictly local extensions. A preliminary classification along these lines yields the following listings (by necessity, the listings are tentative and cannot claim to be exhaustive): (1) Globally predominant sound realizations: – – – – – – – – – – –

KIT as [I]; DRESS as [E]; FOOT as [U]; FLEECE as [i:]; GOOSE as [u:]; THOUGHT, NORTH as [ç:]; CHOICE as [çI]; MOUTH as [aU]; happY as [i];

[d] for word-initial /D/; also [t] for initial /T/; alveolar for velar nasals in–ing endings.

(2) Distinctive sound realizations that may serve to characterize specific regions:: – – – – – – –

[U] in STRUT; [a] in LOT, CLOTH; [ç], [ø], [a] or [E] in NURSE; [I, i] in FLEECE; [I´] in FACE and [U´] in GOAT; [¨] or [Uu] in GOOSE; [´I], [çI], [ae] or monophthongal [a:] in PRICE;

Global synopsis: phonetic and phonological variation in English world-wide

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

1129

[´U] or [QU] in MOUTH; [ia] in NEAR; [o:, ç:] in CURE; homophony of KIT and FLEECE; homophony of FOOT and GOOSE; homophony of LOT and THOUGHT; homophony of LOT and STRUT; homophony of NEAR and SQUARE; the "Scottish Vowel Length Rule"; unaspirated word-initial /p/, /t/, /k/; glottal stop for word-final /t/; word-initial [kj-], [gj-], [bw-] for k-, g-, b-; velar fricative onset in wh- words; [v] for /w/; existence of velar fricative; word-initial /h/-deletion and /h/-insertion; /r/ realized as apical or uvular trill; velarization of word-final nasals (e.g. [-ŋ] in down); existence of tonal distinctions.

While global patterns do not serve the purpose of accent discrimination well, local pronunciations are more useful for determining a speaker's place of origin. For such a purpose, the features of the third list seem most recommendable: (3) Features which seem particularly useful for the identification of regional accents in a global perspective: – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

[Q] vs. [a] in TRAP; [Å] vs. [A] in LOT; [A:] vs. [a] vs. [Q] in BATH; [eI] vs. [e:] in FACE, [´U] vs. [oU] vs. [o:] in GOAT; [´] vs. [a, √] in lettER and commA; nasalized vowels before nasals; lenisation / voicing / flapping of intervocalic /t/ (writer = rider); jod-dropping; (frequency and conditions of) word-final consonant cluster deletion; rhoticity; existence of intrusive /r/; stress shift; tendency towards syllable-timing; high-rising terminal contour.

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Edgar W. Schneider

In general, however, no single pronunciation detail will suffice to serve such a purpose. In other words, distinctive accents are never distinctive because of any specific feature found there, but always because of the unique mix of pronunciation choices in a given region.

References Gleason, H.A. Jr. 1970 An Introduction to Descriptive Linguistics. Revised edition. London: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. Labov, William 1991 Resolving the Neogrammarian controversy. Language 57: 267–308. McDavid, Raven I. Jr. 1985 The sound system of a West Midland dialect: Kniveton, Derbyshire. In: Wolfgang Viereck (ed.), Focus on: England and Wales, 45–77. Amsterdam, Philadelphia: Benjamins.

Appendix List of features: Phonology & phonetics Edgar W. Schneider Please indicate whether or to what extent the following features / variants occur in the variety that you have discussed by inserting A, B or C in the leftmost column as follows: A B C

occurs normally / is widespread occurs sometimes / occasionally, with some speakers / groups, in some environments does not normally occur.

If you have covered more than one variety, please give your set of responses for each of them, or give a summary assessment for a group of related varieties as specified. Elements in parentheses (../..) are optional; “>” suggests a direction of movement. Please note that the variants suggested for a single item (e.g. lexical set) are meant to be relatively exhaustive but not necessarily mutually exclusive.

Global synopsis: phonetic and phonological variation in English world-wide

Phonetic realization: vowels (lexical sets) 1.

KIT [I]

2.

KIT raised / fronted, > [i]

3.

KIT centralized, > [´]

4.

KIT with offglide, e.g. [I´/i´]

5.

DRESS half-close [e]

6.

DRESS raised, > [i]

7.

DRESS half-open [E]

8.

DRESS backed, > [√/å]

9.

DRESS with centralizing offglide, e.g. [e´]

10.

DRESS with rising offglide, e.g. [eI]

11.

TRAP [Q]

12.

TRAP raised, > [E/e]

13.

TRAP lowered, > [a]

14.

TRAP with offglide, e.g. [Q´/QE/QI/E´]

15.

LOT rounded, e.g. [Å]

16.

LOT back unrounded, e.g. [A]

17.

LOT front unrounded, e.g. [a]

18.

LOT with offglide, e.g. [Å´]

19.

STRUT [√]

20.

STRUT high back, > [U]

21.

STRUT central [´/å]

22.

STRUT backed, > [ç]

23.

FOOT [U]

24.

FOOT tensed [u]

25.

FOOT back, lower, e.g. [√]

26.

BATH half-open front [Q]

27.

BATH low front [a]

28.

BATH low back [A]

29.

BATH long

30.

BATH with offglide, e.g. [Q´/QI/E´]

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Edgar W. Schneider

31.

CLOTH rounded [ç/Å]

32.

CLOTH back unrounded [A]

33.

CLOTH front unrounded [a]

34.

NURSE central [Œ:/‘]

35.

NURSE raised / fronted / rounded, e.g. [O]

36.

NURSE mid front [E/e(r)]

37.

NURSE [√(r)] (possibly lexically conditioned, e.g. WORD)

38.

NURSE backed, e.g. [o/ç]

39.

NURSE diphthongal, e.g. [´I/çI]

40.

FLEECE [i:]

41.

FLEECE with centralizing offglide, e.g. [i´]

42.

FLEECE with mid/central onset and upglide, e.g. [´I/ei]

43.

FLEECE with high onset and upglide, e.g. [Ii]

44.

FLEECE shortened, e.g. [i/I]

45.

FACE upgliding diphthong with half-close onset, e.g. [eI]

46.

FACE upgliding diphthong with half-open or lower onset, e.g. [EI/QI]

47.

FACE upgliding diphthong with low / backed onset, e.g. [a(:)I/√I]

48.

FACE upgliding diphthong with central onset, e.g. [´I]

49.

FACE monophthong, e.g. [e:]

50.

FACE ingliding diphthong, e.g. [I´/IE]

51.

PALM low back [A(:)]

52.

PALM low front [a(:)]

53.

PALM with offglide, e.g. [A´/Å´]

54.

THOUGHT [ç(:)]

55.

THOUGHT low [a:/A:]

56.

THOUGHT with offglide, e.g. [ç´/U´]

57.

GOAT with central onset, e.g. [´U/´¨]

58.

GOAT with back rounded onset, e.g. [oU/ou]

59.

GOAT with low or back unrounded onset, e.g. [a(:)u/a¨/√U/√¨]

60.

GOAT with relatively high back onset [Uu]

61.

GOAT ingliding, e.g. [U´/uç/ua]

Global synopsis: phonetic and phonological variation in English world-wide 62.

GOAT monophthongal, e.g. [o(:)]

63.

GOOSE [u:]

64.

GOOSE fronted, > [¨(:)]

65.

GOOSE gliding, e.g. [Uu/Iu/´(:)¨]

66.

PRICE upgliding diphthong, e.g. [aI/AI/√I]

67.

PRICE monophthong [a:] before voiced C

68.

PRICE monophthong [a:] in all environments

69.

PRICE with raised / central onset, e.g. [´I/ŒI]

70.

PRICE with backed onset, e.g. [ç(:)I/ÅI]

71.

PRICE with mid-front offglide, e.g. [ae/aE]

72.

CHOICE [çI]

73.

CHOICE with low onset [ÅI]

74.

CHOICE with central onset [´I/´i]

75.

MOUTH [aU/AU]

76.

MOUTH with raised and backed onset, e.g. [√u/çU]

77.

MOUTH with raised onset [´U] only before voiceless C

78.

MOUTH with raised onset [´U] in all environments

79.

MOUTH with fronted onset, e.g. [Q¨/QU/Qo/Eo]

80.

MOUTH low monophthong, e.g. [a:]

81.

MOUTH mid/high back monophthong, e.g. [o:]

82.

NEAR [I´(r)]

83.

NEAR without offglide, e.g. [Ir]

84.

NEAR with tensed / raised onset, e.g. [i(:)´]

85.

NEAR with half-closed onset [e(:/´/r)/ea]

86.

NEAR with half-open onset [E(:/´/r)]

87.

NEAR high-front to low glide, e.g. [ia]

88.

SQUARE with half-open onset [E´]

89.

SQUARE with half-closed onset [e´/ea]

90.

SQUARE with high front onset [I´]

91.

SQUARE with relatively open onset, possibly rising [Q´/QI]

92.

SQUARE half-closed monophthong, [e(:/r)]

1133

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Edgar W. Schneider

93.

SQUARE half-open monophthong, [E(:/r)]

94.

START low back unrounded, e.g. [A(:/r)]

95.

START central, e.g. [å(:/r)]

96.

START low front, e.g. [a(:/r)]

97.

START front, raised, e.g. [Q(:/r)]

98.

START with offglide, e.g. [A´/Å´)]

99.

NORTH half-open monophthong [ç(:/r)]

100.

NORTH half-closed monophthong [o(:/r)]

101.

NORTH [Å]

102.

NORTH with offglide, e.g. [Å´/oa]

103.

FORCE half-open monophthong [ç(:/r)]

104.

FORCE half-closed monophthong [o(:/r)]

105.

FORCE ingliding, e.g. [ç´(r)/o´(r)/oa]

106.

FORCE with upglide, e.g.[oU(r)]

107.

CURE [U´/Ur]

108.

CURE with tensed / raised onset, e.g. [u(:)´/ur]

109.

CURE lowered monophthong, e.g. [o:/ç:]

110.

CURE with upglide, e.g. [oU(r)]

111.

CURE low offglide, e.g. [ua/oa(r)]

112.

happY relatively centralized, e.g. [I]

113.

happY central, e.g. [´]

114.

happY tensed / relatively high front, e.g. [i(:)]

115.

happY mid front, e.g. [e/E]

116.

lettER [´]

117.

lettER (relatively) open, e.g. [a/√]

118.

horsES central [´]

119.

horsES high front [I]

120.

commA [´]

121.

commA (relatively) open, e.g. [a/√]

Global synopsis: phonetic and phonological variation in English world-wide

1135

Distribution: vowels 122.

homophony of KIT and FLEECE

123.

homophony of TRAP and BATH

124.

homophony of Mary and merry

125.

homophony of Mary, merry and marry

126.

homophony of TRAP and DRESS before /l/

127.

merger of KIT and DRESS before nasals (pin = pen)

128.

homophony of DRESS and FACE

129.

homophony of FOOT and GOOSE

130.

homophony of LOT and THOUGHT

131.

homophony of LOT and STRUT

132.

homophony of NEAR and SQUARE

133.

vowels nasalized before nasal consonants

134.

vowel harmony / cross-syllable assimilation phenomena in some words

135.

vowels short unless before /r/, voiced fricative, or in open syllable (SVLR)

136.

commA/lettER (etc.): [//i/ç/u], reflecting spelling

Phonetic realization and distribution: consonants 137.

P/T/K-: weak or no aspiration of word-initial stops

138.

-T-: lenisation / flapping / voicing of intervocalic /t/ (writer = rider)

139.

-T: realization of word-final or intervocalic /t/ as glottal stop

140.

K-: palatalization of velar stop word-initially: e.g. kj-/gj-in can‘t/garden

141.

B-: word-initial bw- for b-: e.g. bw- in boy

142.

S-/F-: voiceless initial fricatives voiced: [z-/v-]

143.

TH-: realization of word-initial voiced TH as stop, e.g. dis‚ ‘this’

144.

TH-: realization of word-initial voiceless TH as stop, e.g. ting‚‘thing’

145.

TH-: realization of word-initial voiced TH as affricate [dD]

146.

TH-: realization of word-initial voiceless TH as affricate [tT]

147.

WH-: velar fricative onset retained, i.e. which is not homophonous with witch

148.

CH: voiceless velar fricative [X/x] exists

149.

h-deletion (word-initial), e.g.‚ ‘eart‘heart’

150.

h-insertion (word-initial), e.g. haxe ‘axe’

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Edgar W. Schneider

151.

L-: palatal (clear) variant in syllable onsets

152.

L-: velar variant in syllable onsets

153.

–L: palatal variant in syllable codas

154.

“jod”-dropping: no /j/ after alveolars before /u:/, e.g. in news, tune

155.

deletion of word-initial /h/ in /hj-/ clusters, e.g. in human, huge

156.

labialization of word-central voiced -TH-, e.g. [-v-] in brother

157.

labialization of word-final / word-central voiceless –TH, e.g. [-f] in mouth, nothing

158.

intervocalic /-v-/ > [b], e.g. in river

159.

W: substitution of labiodental fricative /v/ for semi-vowel /w/

160.

word-final consonant cluster deletion, monomorphemic

161.

word-final consonant cluster deletion, bimorphemic

162.

deletion of word-final single consonants

163.

simplification of word-initial consonant clusters, e.g. in splash, square

164.

non-rhotic (no postvocalic –r)

165.

rhotic (postvocalic –r realized)

166.

phonetic realization of /r/ as velar retroflex constriction

167.

phonetic realization of /r/ as alveolar flap

168.

phonetic realization of /r/ as apical trill

169.

/r/ uvular

170.

intrusive –r–, e.g. idea-r-is

171.

post-vocalic –l vocalized

172.

neutralization / confusion of liquids /l/ and /r/ in some words

173.

realization of velar nasals with stop: -NG > [-Ng]

174.

velarization of some word-final nasals, e.g. /-ŋ/ in down

Prosodic features and intonation 175.

deletion of word-initial unstressed syllables, e.g. 'bout‚ 'cept

176.

stress not infrequently shifted from first to later syllable, e.g. indi!cate, holi!day

177.

(relatively) syllable-timed rather than stress-timed

Global synopsis: phonetic and phonological variation in English world-wide 178.

HRT (High-Rising Terminal) contour: rise at end of statement

179.

tone distinctions exist

1137

Index of subjects A accent 25–31, 65 (for specific accents see also Index of varieties and languages) dynamic 826 tonal 826 acoustic 57, 60, 62, 64–65, 243, 287, 295, 307, 312, 319, 343–345, 350, 386, 395, 426, 439, 583, 586, 591, 601–602, 616, 619, 624–626, 629, 633, 639–640, 643, 685, 689, 772, 789, 793, 827, 880, 945, 946 acquisition 31, 64, 74, 233–235, 243, 339, 479–480, 684, 714, 728, 807–808, 924– 925, 954, 962, 981 acrolect 239, 253, 383, 438, 445, 480, 486, 510, 515–520, 523, 574, 735, 742, 752, 780, 782, 785, 807–808, 856–857, 859, 861, 867, 871, 883, 888–890, 893, 944, 947–951, 987, 1010, 1022, 1036, 1049– 1058, 1076, 1089, 1099 affix 663, 825, 898–899, 1057, 1096 prefix 142, 268, 645, 675, 708, 886, 898, 929 suffix 155–156, 267, 285, 291, 421, 446, 490, 522, 663, 687, 706–707, 713, 725, 774–775, 881, 895–896, 898, 927, 929, 940, 990, 1028, 1083, 1096, 1107, 1121 affricate 42, 45, 128–129, 288, 293, 370, 376, 378, 385, 469–470, 490, 585, 593, 597, 609, 612, 618, 661, 666, 680, 696, 698, 706, 717, 744, 756, 833, 858–860, 881, 909–910, 939, 950, 975–976, 998, 1025, 1027, 1053–1054, 1085, 1092– 1094, 1096–1097, 1106–1107, 1111, 1123–1124, 1135 affrication 108, 156, 289, 570, 576, 593, 612, 618, 1071, 1092 allegro speech 380 allophone 41, 43, 58, 73, 79, 93, 127, 130, 155, 174–175, 195, 330, 341, 360–361, 385, 387, 418, 424, 442–443, 453, 455, 460, 465–466, 475, 486, 495, 504, 516,

527, 542, 559, 584, 586–587, 595–596, 599, 635, 641, 644, 677, 764, 788, 791, 797, 820, 838, 851, 858–861, 871, 935– 936, 946–950, 956, 960, 997, 1011, 1013, 1054, 1072, 1094, 1125 alveolar 45, 60, 63, 71, 74–75, 79, 81–82, 84, 87, 92–93, 110, 195–196, 212, 228, 240, 242, 278–279, 288, 333, 341, 370, 376, 378, 385, 397, 398, 401–402, 422, 424–426, 432, 446, 467–468, 472, 486, 490, 493, 545, 581, 585, 593, 611, 615, 618, 660, 665, 680, 684, 696, 698, 706, 721, 755, 766, 775–776, 833, 854, 858, 882, 894, 908–910, 925, 950, 959–960, 975, 990, 998, 1011–1012, 1025, 1042, 1054, 1073, 1086–1087, 1093, 1097, 1123–1124, 1128, 1136 palato- 42, 432, 559, 755, 767, 859, 910, 998 apico- 62, 84, 93 post- 63, 195, 201, 398, 593, 680, 755, 822, 859, 940, 950, 1025, 1073 amplitude 1014 anaptyxis 527, 529, 531–532, 534, 544– 546, 559, 561, 563, 999 aphesis 662, 667 apical 211, 641, 705, 1087, 1129, 1136 apocope 431, 662, 667, 702, 886 approximant 62–63, 110, 195, 211, 402, 442–443, 469, 485, 490, 585, 696, 756, 767, 775, 833–834, 838, 858, 860, 862, 871, 910, 950, 960–961, 976, 990, 998, 1012, 1086, 1106–1108 aspect 500, 695, 723, 747, 811, 839, 884 aspiration 60, 108, 109, 155, 156, 201, 378, 380, 400, 411, 424, 465–466, 517, 581, 593, 614–615, 618, 635, 743, 746, 766, 939, 949, 950, 959, 961–962, 975, 990, 997–998, 1013, 1025, 1053, 1071– 1072, 1085, 1093, 1096, 1123 non- 400, 411, 466, 581, 593, 599, 614–615, 635, 683, 746, 755, 764, 766,

1140

Index of subjects

935, 939, 962, 1013, 1096, 1106, 1129, 1135 de- 618, 975, 979, 981, 1106 not pre-aspirated 999 assimilation 231–233, 237, 240–242, 235, 318, 320, 362, 364, 379–380, 401, 403, 423, 425, 442, 457, 463, 551–552, 594, 597–599, 616, 667, 686, 774, 852–854, 888, 892, 894, 949, 1054, 1084, 1092, 1135

B back vowel (see vowel) backing 143, 274, 286–287, 292, 296, 300, 312, 347, 356, 362, 385, 423, 441, 704, 970, 972, 979, 981, 1075, 1077, 1112, 1115, 1118 basilect 187, 189, 191, 237–239, 242, 251, 253, 383, 438, 446, 484, 508, 510–511, 514–516, 518–523, 574, 576, 578, 659– 661, 735–736, 739–746, 748, 752–753, 777, 807, 859, 867, 870–871, 888, 944, 986, 1010, 1022, 1036, 1049–1058, 1076, 1080, 1082, 1089, 1097, 1099, 1106, 1107, 1121, 1122 BATH 41–42, 53, 58–59, 91, 101, 104, 106–107, 115, 120–123, 137, 139–143, 145–146, 172, 178, 187–188, 198–199, 209, 220–224, 226, 236–237, 263, 265, 270, 273–275, 285, 290, 294–297, 300, 303, 307, 309–310, 340, 348, 356, 359, 361, 369–370, 372, 387, 395–397, 402, 404, 410–411, 419, 439, 454, 460, 504– 505, 515, 518, 529, 532, 536, 555, 576, 582, 590–592, 606, 617, 621, 629, 645, 659, 664, 740, 742, 759, 761, 769, 771, 819–820, 849–850, 870, 880, 888, 893, 927–928, 935–938, 941, 945, 947, 956, 968, 970, 979–980, 987, 994–996, 1006, 1009, 1024, 1038–1039, 1050, 1065, 1071, 1078, 1084, 1091, 1101–1102, 1116, 1122, 1129, 1131, 1135 Broadening of 115, 139, 178 bidialectal 37, 383, 615, 753 bilabial 380, 401, 455, 467, 485, 490, 497, 520, 585, 593, 660–661, 665, 854,

881, 908–910, 991, 1012, 1085 (see also labial) bilingualism 50, 99, 207, 214, 408, 464, 572, 577, 716, 719, 736, 748, 810, 1017, 1020, 1036, 1047, 1059 blocking 401 breaking 50, 56, 59, 73–74, 83, 88, 143, 305, 312–313, 971 burr 119–120, 126, 129, 130, 132, 197– 198, 568, 605

C Cajun Renaissance 408, 413–414 Canadian Raising (see raising) Canadian Shift 347, 356–357, 361–362, 370–371, 1077 centering (see glide, ingliding) central vowel (see vowel) centralization 102–104, 182, 190–191, 200, 222–225, 275, 296, 308, 341, 357, 361–362, 371–375, 421–422, 439, 490, 532, 561, 587, 589, 617, 621, 816, 819, 821, 856, 1063, 1076–1077, 1090, 1114– 1116, 1119, 1121, 1131, 1134 centering diphthong (see diphthong) chain shift 85, 222, 273–274, 281, 286– 288, 292, 296, 347, 361, 385–386, 391– 392, 941, 1077, 1078, 1100, 1112, 1122 (see also Northern Cities Shift/Northern Cities Chain Shift) CHOICE 43, 53, 85, 91, 101, 106, 121, 138, 140, 151–152, 170, 187–189, 198, 200, 209, 220–221, 225, 236, 238, 263, 266, 273, 285–287, 290, 295, 304, 312, 340, 359, 369, 373, 387, 395, 398, 404, 410–411, 422, 439, 454, 460, 504–505, 515, 518, 529, 544–545, 555, 582, 591, 628, 630, 632, 659, 664, 677, 740, 742, 757, 760–761, 770–771, 819, 821, 849, 870, 880–881, 890, 893, 928, 936, 938, 945–947, 956, 958, 969, 973, 979–981, 987, 989, 994, 996, 1006, 1008, 1024, 1038, 1050, 1052, 1068, 1081, 1091, 1103, 1119, 1128, 1133

Index of subjects clause 33, 242, 423, 504, 520, 639, 708, 724, 732, 784, 811–812, 828, 839, 1001– 1002, 1058, 1095 clear /l/ (see /l/) closing (see diphthong) CLOTH 43, 53, 58, 101, 104, 121, 137, 144, 146, 159, 172, 187, 188, 198, 209, 220–221, 224, 236–237, 264–265, 273– 275, 285–286, 288, 290–291, 294–296, 303, 309–310, 340–341, 359, 368–369, 371–372, 387, 395, 397–398, 404, 410, 419, 439, 454, 460, 504–505, 515, 518, 529, 537, 555, 627–629, 650, 659, 664, 740, 742, 759, 761, 769, 771, 819–820, 849–850, 870, 880, 888–889, 893, 928, 945, 947, 956, 968, 970, 980, 987, 994– 995, 1006, 1009, 1024, 1038, 1050–1052, 1064, 1077, 1115, 1128, 1132 coda 81, 93, 317, 319, 321, 377–379, 389, 412, 426, 442, 447, 461, 465–467, 469–471, 520, 546, 583, 595, 641, 708, 743–744, 824, 858, 871, 881–883, 895, 950–951, 1025–1026, 1094, 1097, 1125, 1136 cluster 379, 445, 471–472, 476, 487, 641, 882 commA 43, 54, 91, 102, 121, 138, 154, 187, 189, 198, 201, 209, 220–221, 227– 228, 236, 238, 264, 267, 273, 285, 290, 295, 304, 315, 340, 359, 369, 375, 395, 400, 404, 410–411, 439, 454, 460, 505, 515, 518, 529, 553, 585, 587, 601, 622, 628, 659, 664, 695, 740–742, 761–762, 771, 773, 819, 821, 849, 870, 880, 892, 893, 928, 936, 939, 945, 947, 956, 959, 969, 974, 987, 994, 997, 1006, 1008, 1024, 1038, 1050–1052, 1070, 1083, 1092, 1105, 1121, 1129, 1134–1135 competition 104–107, 196, 368, 512, 782, 842 complementary distribution (see distribution) conditioning 63, 290, 293, 297, 317, 321, 346, 348, 411, 425–426, 520, 552, 641, 652, 795, 888, 1081, 1113, 1117 conditioned 223, 227, 334, 357, 369– 370, 376, 426, 535, 852, 854, 888, 892,

1141

928, 1073, 1080, 1084, 1111, 1117, 1124–1125, 1127, 1132 unconditioned 331, 740 consonant final 155, 239, 321, 390, 409, 411, 425, 491, 517, 532, 521, 545, 559, 563, 650, 700, 703, 745, 748, 777, 823–824, 889, 913–914, 929, 999, 1026, 1028, 1055, 1087, 1124 cluster 42, 44, 62, 81, 174, 196, 203, 240, 293, 320–321, 378–379, 384, 389, 412, 424, 455, 462, 467, 470–472, 476, 480, 487, 520, 537, 558–559, 563, 571, 594, 612, 637, 642, 661, 683, 686, 687, 699–701, 708, 717–718, 724–725, 756, 767, 777, 792, 834–835, 851, 871–872, 898, 910, 929, 961, 999, 1012–1013, 1029, 1087, 1092–1093 with /j/ 469, 475, 597, 1108 with /h/ 201, 289, 333, 1086, 1093, 1124, 1136 deletion/reduction/simplification/dissolution etc. 84, 174, 267, 321, 334, 377, 379, 389–390, 401, 409, 425, 431, 433, 445–446, 449, 487–488, 491, 517, 520, 667, 686, 699–702, 745–746, 774, 777, 824, 861, 871, 882, 895, 914, 928–929, 944, 950– 951, 977, 979, 981, 990, 999, 1013, 1026, 1040–1041, 1045, 1055, 1087, 1097, 1108, 1126, 1129, 1136 (see also coda cluster) deletion (see deletion) devoicing (see devoicing) substitution 71, 109, 240, 278, 402, 411, 424, 635, 637, 661, 665, 697–699, 718, 859, 894, 960, 1042, 1054, 1093–1094, 1124, 1136 constraints 29, 61, 109, 173, 193, 240, 255, 301, 426, 465, 468, 470–472, 517, 650, 702–703, 724, 829, 899, 950, 1026, 1087, 1125 constriction 265, 279, 317, 334, 619, 1083, 1087, 1136 deconstriction 333–334, 654 contact 27, 31–32, 42, 48, 65, 70–71, 78, 81, 94, 97, 117, 205, 208, 213, 231, 234,

1142

Index of subjects

241, 243, 248, 251, 255, 275–276, 302, 313, 329, 347–348, 384, 393, 402–403, 407, 417, 420–421, 423, 430, 432, 440, 443, 445, 448, 491, 493, 501, 503, 506, 510, 515–516, 567–569, 571–576, 578, 580–581, 611, 614, 618–619, 656–657, 666, 671–675, 690–692, 700–701, 709– 712, 720, 726, 750–751, 782–784, 787– 788, 792, 805–807, 810–812, 814, 831, 842, 866, 875, 902–903, 905–906, 913, 917, 932–933, 942, 953–956, 960, 964– 965, 984, 1003, 1018, 1076, 1087, 1089, 1095–1097, 1116, 1119–1126 continuum 27, 30–32, 37, 41–42, 44, 47, 50–52, 57, 60–61, 63, 185, 253, 255, 263, 391, 426, 438, 447, 449, 479, 498, 508, 523, 574, 608, 627, 633, 635, 637, 663, 668, 726, 728, 735–736, 752, 789, 807, 816, 818, 827, 847, 867, 871–872, 875, 921, 927, 944–945, 986, 1017, 1022– 1023, 1037, 1076, 1091, 1108 lectal 945, 1017, 1022–1023, 1037, 1049 post-creole 253, 255, 668, 726 covert prestige (see prestige) creolization 247, 393–394, 445, 480, 491, 506, 658, 709, 714, 723, 726–728, 786, 831 (see also decreolization) CURE 43, 53, 91, 101, 107, 121, 138, 153, 172, 187, 189, 198, 201, 209, 213, 220–221, 226, 236, 264, 267, 273, 279, 285, 290, 294, 304, 314, 340, 359, 368– 369, 374, 387, 395, 399, 404, 410–411, 438, 505, 515, 518, 529, 550–551, 555, 582–583, 592–593, 628, 630, 632, 649– 650, 659, 663, 740–742, 758, 760, 762, 770, 772, 819, 821, 880, 888, 891–893, 927–928, 936, 938, 945- 948, 956, 959, 969, 974, 979–980, 987, 994, 997, 1006, 1009–1010, 1024, 1038, 1040, 1050, 1052, 1069–1070, 1083, 1091, 1104, 1121, 1129, 1134

D dark /l/ (see /l/) decreolization 253, 481, 498, 503, 514– 515, 524, 658, 736, 748, 884 (see also creolization)

deletion consonant 521, 824, 914, 999, 1027– 1029 /h/ 62, 82, 120, 127, 139, 157–158, 174, 192, 201, 212, 241, 377–378, 441, 444– 445, 486, 490, 494–495, 635, 960, 998, 1086, 1135 jod/yod 62, 72, 84, 157–159, 164, 170, 172, 175–176, 196, 229, 297, 318–320, 377, 379–380, 385, 388, 390, 400, 409, 411–412, 424–426, 443–444, 455, 461– 462, 479, 486, 537, 596–597, 636–637, 702–703, 706, 775–776, 779, 824, 858–859, 861, 895–896, 914, 940, 999, 1026–1028, 1043, 1069, 1072–1073, 1086–1087, 1093, 1108, 1124, 1126, 1129, 1136 dental 37, 43, 45, 60–61, 71–76, 78–82, 84, 92, 109, 185, 192, 240, 376, 385, 411, 424, 475, 490, 497, 581, 585, 594–595, 615, 618, 660–661, 665, 705, 755, 766, 775–776, 858–859, 864, 909–910, 925, 940, 950, 960, 975, 979, 981, 990, 998, 1011, 1025, 1042, 1071, 1085, 1093, 1097, 1123 apico- 424, 755 inter- 73, 278, 288, 293, 298, 388, 397, 402, 411, 415, 424, 441–442, 485, 488, 490, 493, 495, 497, 594, 661, 665, 881, 990, 1025, 1054, 1106 labio- 192, 195, 442, 485, 490, 497, 618, 665, 909, 990, 998–999, 1012, 1025, 1086, 1093, 1124, 1136 post- 376, 594 dentalization 79, 88, 1011 devoicing consonant 156, 298, 379, 388, 447, 593– 594, 596, 618, 623, 756, 823, 860–861, 881, 894, 913–914, 949–950, 974–975, 990–991, 1027–1028, 1041, 1054, 1086, 1097, 1108 vowel 456, 617 diagnostic 58, 82, 139–140, 253, 436, 440–441, 483, 606, 1045, 1118 dialect contact 31, 47, 65, 203, 231, 243, 255, 329, 347–348, 421–423, 432, 991

Index of subjects intensification 323 leveling 230, 284, 340, 349, 363 diffuseness 96, 232, 260, 421, 943 diffusion (geolinguistic) 362, 364, 626, 643, 655 diphthong centering 56–57, 123–124, 199, 201, 226, 236, 238, 505, 608, 757–758, 760, 770, 835, 856, 912, 927, 946, 948, 1010, 1069 closing 123, 191, 200, 505, 608, 610– 611, 628, 855, 927, 981–982, 1010, 1091 shift 189, 237–238, 591 diphthongization 140, 147–148, 151, 154, 166, 286, 291, 300, 307, 309–310, 314, 316, 347, 370, 386, 397, 490–491, 504– 505, 539, 542, 585, 589–591, 617, 627, 648, 685, 740, 760, 855–856, 1040, 1066, 1069, 1075, 1077–1079, 1091, 1095, 1112, 1118 dissimilation 318, 960 distribution 61–63, 65, 77, 92, 104–105, 107, 116, 122, 124–125, 129, 174, 193, 199, 203, 220, 285–286, 298, 306–307, 315, 319, 327, 340, 345–346, 349, 376– 377, 420–421, 440, 458–459, 462, 465– 467, 470–471, 473–474, 476, 493, 514, 534, 557, 561, 592, 599, 618, 633, 635, 637–639, 641, 645–647, 649, 654, 661, 665, 684, 697, 791–793, 797, 819, 845, 854–855, 859, 861, 871, 907, 911, 913, 946, 949, 971, 1005, 1009–1013, 1026, 1064, 1070, 1076, 1082–1086, 1112– 1113, 1117, 1119, 1122–1123, 1125, 1127–1128, 1135 complementary 110, 175, 442, 886, 907, 1073, 1111, 1125 disyllabic 64, 84, 107, 145, 152, 159, 379, 469, 488, 521, 548, 590, 591–592, 595, 611, 615, 650, 677, 999, 1043, 1069, 1092 divergence 30, 94, 113, 318, 363, 436, 818 DRESS 42–43, 53, 57, 90, 101–102, 121, 137, 143, 165–166, 187–188, 198, 209,

1143

220–222, 236–237, 263–264, 273, 285, 290, 294, 296–297, 303, 307–308, 315, 333, 340, 345, 347, 359, 361, 369–370, 387, 395–396, 404, 410–411, 438, 453, 460, 504, 515, 518, 529, 531, 538, 543, 555, 582–584, 586–588, 592, 608–609, 611, 616, 621, 627, 630–631, 649, 651, 655, 659, 663, 676, 740, 742, 758, 761, 768, 771, 819–820, 849, 870, 880, 886, 888, 893, 927–928, 936–937, 940–941, 945, 947, 956, 968, 970, 978, 981, 987– 988, 994–995, 1006–1007, 1024, 1038, 1050, 1052, 1064, 1076, 1080–1081, 1084, 1090–1091, 1100–1101, 1114, 1122, 1128, 1131, 1135 dropping final KIT 886 /h/ (see deletion, /h/) initial /w/ 110 /j/ (see deletion, jod/yod) /r/ (see /r/, postvocalic)

E ecology 253, 436, 499, 789, 808, 1022 elision 62, 380, 491, 702, 724, 861, 857, 975, 977, 979, 981 enclave 50, 71, 247, 250–251, 254, 351, 353–354, 384, 412, 436, 444, 449, 489, 494, 499–500, 712 epenthesis 81, 379, 425, 562, 662, 667, 686, 699–700, 702, 707, 914, 1012–1013, 1055, 1096 ethnicity 26, 28, 31, 50, 67, 89–90, 95, 231–235, 240, 254, 260, 281, 283, 317– 318, 322–323, 329, 335, 339, 354, 360, 367, 408, 416–417, 419, 422–423, 432– 433, 436, 438–441, 444–446, 448–449, 483, 486, 499, 502, 504, 512, 514–515, 569, 584, 594, 614–615, 624, 633, 690, 692–693, 715, 731, 733, 735, 753, 778, 810, 813, 816, 817, 847, 852, 853, 856, 867–868, 874, 877, 885, 905, 919–920, 926, 928, 935, 941, 964, 1003, 1017– 1020, 1034–1035, 1047, 1050, 1127

1144

Index of subjects

ethnolect 408, 625, 642, 657, 659 etymon 675, 677, 679–680, 687, 708, 714, 718, 736, 1095

F FACE 89–91, 138, 148–150, 43, 50, 54, 59, 100–101, 104–106, 120–121, 123–124, 127, 138–140, 146, 159, 169–170, 187– 189, 198–199, 209, 220–221, 223–224, 236, 238, 264, 266, 273, 275, 285, 287, 290–291, 295, 301–302, 304, 307, 309– 311, 322, 333, 335, 340–341, 346, 359, 368–369, 371–372, 387, 395, 397, 404, 410–411, 438–439, 454, 460, 484, 504– 505, 515, 518, 538–540, 543, 555, 582, 591, 599, 608–610, 622, 626–627, 630, 632–633, 640, 648, 653, 659, 663, 676, 694, 740, 742, 757, 760–761, 769–771, 797, 819–820, 849, 870, 880, 885–887, 889, 891–893, 927–928, 936, 938, 945– 947, 956, 958, 968, 971–973, 979–983, 987, 989, 994, 996, 1006, 1009–1010, 1024, 1038, 1050–1052, 1067–1068, 1080–1081, 1084, 1091, 1095, 1102, 1118–1119, 1128–1129, 1132, 1135 fall(ing) (see intonation) fall-rise (see intonation) first language (see L1) flap(ping) 278, 281, 320, 359, 490, 570, 612, 635, 861, 871, 1085, 1096, 1129, 1135 FLEECE 53, 91, 101, 104, 121, 137, 147, 151, 155, 169, 187–189, 198, 209, 220– 221, 224, 236–237, 264, 266, 273, 275, 285, 290–291, 295, 303, 307, 309, 333, 340–341, 359, 369, 371, 387, 395, 397, 404, 410–411, 438, 504, 515, 518, 529, 538–540, 547, 555, 582–583, 585–589, 592, 616–617, 621–622, 626–627, 629, 632–633, 649, 659, 663, 740, 742, 758, 761, 768, 771, 819–820, 849–850, 870, 880, 885, 888, 893, 927–928, 936–937, 941, 945, 947, 956–957, 968, 971, 979– 980, 987–988, 994–996, 1006–1007, 1024, 1038, 1050–1052, 1065, 1078,

1084, 1090–1091, 1101–1102, 1116, 1122, 1128–1129, 1132, 1135 FOOT 42, 53, 58–59, 74, 91, 101, 103, 115, 119–123, 137, 139–40, 144–145, 162, 165–167, 169, 178–179, 187–188, 191, 198, 200, 203, 209, 220–221, 223, 225–226, 230, 236–237, 263, 265–266, 273, 285, 290–291, 295, 298, 301, 303, 308, 333, 340, 359, 369, 371, 376, 387, 396, 404, 410, 438, 454, 460, 504, 515, 518, 527, 529, 535, 542, 555, 582, 584, 586, 589–590, 600, 616, 627, 629, 640, 649, 659, 663, 675, 740, 742, 759, 761, 769, 771, 819–821, 849–850, 870, 880, 888, 890, 893, 908, 927–928, 936–937, 945, 947, 956, 968, 970, 972, 979–980, 987–988, 994–995, 1006, 1009, 1024, 1038, 1050–1052, 1065, 1071, 1078, 1084, 1090, 1101, 1116, 1122, 1128– 1129, 1131, 1135 FORCE 42–44, 50, 53, 56, 90–91, 101, 107, 110–111, 121, 138, 153–154, 172, 187, 189, 198, 201, 209, 220–221, 224, 226, 236, 239–240, 264, 267, 273, 276–277, 279, 285, 287–288, 290, 292, 294–295, 303–304, 314, 317, 330–331, 340–341, 348–349, 359–360, 368–369, 374, 387, 395, 399, 404, 410–411, 419, 438, 454, 460, 505, 515, 518, 529, 549– 550, 555, 582, 586, 590, 593, 616–617, 659, 663, 677, 695, 740–742, 759, 762, 769, 772, 819, 821, 849, 870, 880, 887, 889–891, 893, 928, 945, 947, 956, 958, 969, 974, 979–980, 994, 996, 1006–1007, 1010, 1024, 1038, 1050, 1052, 1066, 1079, 1089, 1117, 1134 frequency 26, 52, 103, 107, 110, 186, 193, 195, 213–214, 238, 293, 349, 350, 424– 425, 444–445, 463, 475, 479, 517, 597, 610, 637, 651–63, 701, 717, 791, 799, 852–854, 880, 882, 893, 896, 906, 929, 946, 948, 972, 1014, 1045, 1071, 1111, 1113, 1125, 1129 fricative 50, 57, 61–62, 71, 73–75, 78, 81–82, 84, 86, 93, 109–110, 129, 167, 178, 192, 197–198, 201, 240, 278, 285–

Index of subjects 286, 288, 293, 298, 320–321, 348, 370, 376, 378–380, 385, 397–398, 401–402, 411, 415, 424, 441–442, 456, 469–470, 472, 475, 477, 485–486, 490, 493, 495, 497, 520, 585, 593–595, 661, 618, 645– 646, 660, 665–666, 668, 683–684, 696, 698, 705–706, 717–718, 720, 743, 755, 766–767, 792, 822, 833, 858–860, 864, 871, 881–883, 894, 909–910, 925–926, 929, 939, 950, 960, 975–976, 979, 981, 990–991, 998–999, 1011–1012, 1025, 1027, 1041–1042, 1053–1054, 1064, 1070, 1072, 1085–1086, 1093, 1097, 1106, 1109, 1123–1124, 1129, 1135–1136 (see also glottal fricative) front vowel raising (see raising) fronted 45, 60, 73, 77, 86, 124, 190, 222, 226, 238, 240, 265–266, 276, 287, 291– 292, 296, 307–308, 311, 313, 316, 340– 341, 343–344, 360–361, 368, 370, 374– 375, 411, 421, 423, 440, 490, 505, 608, 617, 627, 629–632, 640, 680, 794, 860, 946, 956–958, 972, 1065, 1067, 1070– 1071, 1073, 1078–1079, 1081–1082, 1091, 1104, 1117–1118, 1120–1121, 1131–1133 fronting 58, 73, 75, 78, 81, 86, 151, 159, 167, 190–191, 200, 225, 238, 291–292, 295–296, 300, 302–303, 307–308, 311, 313, 316, 322, 333, 343–345, 349, 361, 363, 374, 385–386, 388, 419, 421, 423– 424, 440, 617, 628, 648, 704, 979, 980, 1066, 1068, 1075–1076, 1079, 1112, 1116–1120 (see also /th/-fronting) /S/-fronting 1072 fudge 139, 140, 144–145, 223

G geminates 41, 155, 720, 824, 999, 1012 gender 26, 33, 36, 62–63, 65, 94, 128, 162, 217, 298, 335, 402, 413–415, 423, 571, 577, 584, 633, 650–651, 776, 869 General American 252, 257, 262, 294, 298, 338, 340, 349, 356, 396, 504, 739, 741–743, 775, 956, 1048, 1099, 1120

1145

glide/gliding 73, 104, 190, 196, 209–210, 224–226, 236, 238–240, 264, 266–267, 276, 279, 287, 291, 293, 300–302, 307, 309, 311–314, 322, 332–333, 335, 337, 345, 356, 360–361, 373–374, 378, 380, 386, 401, 410–411, 418, 420, 427–430, 441, 596–597, 628, 640, 650, 685, 760, 770, 775, 822, 889, 891, 895, 909, 912, 927, 940, 947, 950, 958, 971–973, 976, 982, 989, 996, 1025, 1040, 1053–1054, 1068, 1078–1079, 1081–1082, 1091, 1093, 1103, 1108, 1114, 1116–1117, 1120– 1121, 1127, 1133 (see also diphthong) in- 126, 172, 238–239, 276, 285–286, 291, 296, 301, 307–308, 310–311, 323, 331, 348, 360, 372–373, 505, 627, 796, 1078–1080, 1082, 1095, 1117, 1119– 1120, 1132, 1134 off- 80, 226, 329, 332–333, 401, 418, 420, 441, 484, 491, 505, 626–629, 632– 633, 648, 650–651, 679, 790, 794, 796, 855, 938, 979, 981, 1066, 1076–1079, 1091, 1095, 1112, 1114–1118, 1127, 1131–1134, up- 25, 43, 169, 224, 236, 238, 275–276, 307, 309–311, 314, 329–330, 346, 360, 371–372, 411, 440, 881, 1065, 1078, 1080, 1116, 1132–1134 Glide Formation Rule 890, 894 glottal 60–61, 128–129, 173, 228, 240–241, 243, 278, 585, 883, 910, 987, 1025, 1100 fricative 661, 666, 684, 718, 909–910, 950, 960, 998, 1097 onset 977 reinforcement 593, 857 stop 60, 84, 93, 128–129, 157, 174, 228, 278, 280–281, 378, 388, 424, 490, 586, 593, 622, 743–744, 822, 858, 883, 940, 983, 991, 1028–1029, 1042, 1053, 1085, 1123, 1129, 1135 word-initial 278, 466, 520, 767 glottalization 60–61, 74, 128–129, 156– 157, 173, 185, 192–196, 202, 214, 228, 240, 243, 289, 378, 424, 503, 622, 635, 636, 743, 858, 870–871, 960, 991, 1027– 1029, 1042, 1071, 1092, 1096, 1106 pre- 60, 192

1146

Index of subjects

GOAL 43, 150, 187–188, 190, 209, 238, 242, 264, 266, 285, 290, 292, 294– 295, 305, 311, 316, 340–341, 395, 398, 404, 410, 438, 484, 648, 659, 663, 849, 870, 889, 893, 968, 1006, 1009–1011, 1051 GOAT 43, 50, 54, 59, 91, 100–101, 104– 106, 121, 123–124, 127, 139–140, 148, 150, 154, 170, 187–190, 198–199, 209, 220–221, 223, 225, 236, 238, 264, 266, 273, 275–276, 285, 290–292, 294–295, 301–304, 306–309, 311, 315–316, 322– 323, 333, 340–341, 346, 359, 368–369, 372, 387, 395, 398, 404, 410–411, 438, 440, 454, 460, 484, 504–505, 515, 518, 529, 540–542, 546, 555, 582, 584, 589– 590, 592, 599–600, 608–610, 622–623, 626–627, 630, 632–633, 640, 648, 650, 659, 663, 695, 741–742, 757, 760–761, 770–771, 797, 819, 821, 849, 870, 880, 889–890, 893, 909, 928, 936, 938, 945– 947, 956, 958, 968, 971–972, 979–983, 987, 989, 994, 996, 1006, 1009–1010, 1024, 1038, 1050–1052, 1067–1068, 1081, 1090–1091, 1095, 1103, 1119, 1128–1129, 1132–1133 GOOSE 43–44, 54, 58–59, 91, 101, 106, 121–122, 138–140, 147, 151–153, 155, 167, 170–172, 187–190, 197–198, 200, 209, 220–221, 225, 236–237, 264, 266, 273, 276, 285, 287, 290–292, 295, 302, 304, 307–308, 311, 316, 322, 333, 340–341, 359, 361, 369, 372, 376, 387, 395, 398, 404, 410–411, 439–440, 515, 518, 529, 542–543, 555, 582–584, 587, 589–592, 600, 617, 621–622, 626–627, 629, 631, 636, 640, 648–649, 659, 664, 734, 737, 740, 742, 759, 761, 769, 771, 819, 821, 849–850, 870, 880, 890, 893, 927–928, 936–937, 945, 947, 956–957, 969, 972, 979–980, 987–988, 994, 996, 1006–1007, 1024, 1038, 1050–1052, 1065–1066, 1071, 1079, 1084, 1090– 1092, 1101–1102, 1117, 1122, 1128– 1129, 1133, 1135 growen 611

H happY 43, 54, 80, 91, 102, 108, 120–121, 126, 128, 131, 138–139, 154, 169, 187, 189–190, 198, 209, 212, 220–221, 226, 236, 238–239, 264, 267, 273, 285, 290, 294, 315, 340, 359, 369, 375, 395, 399, 402, 404, 410–411, 439, 453, 460, 505, 515, 518, 529, 552, 584–585, 587, 622, 629, 659, 664, 677, 695, 714, 740, 742, 760, 762, 770, 772–773, 797, 819, 821, 849, 870, 880, 892–893, 928, 936, 939, 941, 945, 947, 956, 959, 962, 969, 974, 979, 980, 987, 994, 997, 1006–1007, 1012, 1024, 1038, 1050–1051, 1070, 1083, 1092, 1105, 1121, 1128, 1134 /h/ deletion (see deletion) heterosyllabic 320, 386 hiatus 83, 228, 316–317, 319, 596, 940, 971–973, 976–977, 979, 981 High Rising Terminal (HRT) 619, 639, 1088, 1095, 1126, 1137 homophony 75, 93, 115, 170, 172, 266, 286, 333, 342, 344, 348, 357, 516, 522, 583–585, 587, 685, 709, 820, 849–850, 857, 894, 926, 990, 999, 1070–1071, 1084, 1095, 1122, 1124, 1129, 1135 horsES 43, 102, 121, 142, 154, 165, 189, 209, 236, 264, 267, 273, 285, 290, 295, 304, 315, 340, 359, 369, 375, 395, 400, 404, 410–411, 430, 439, 505, 515, 518, 529, 552, 567, 585, 587, 601, 622, 628, 659, 664, 740–742, 761–762, 771–772, 797, 821, 849, 870, 880, 885–886, 928, 945, 947, 956, 959, 969, 974, 987, 994, 997, 1006, 1008, 1024, 1038, 1050, 1070, 1083, 1092, 1105, 1121, 1134 hybridized English 872–873

I identity 28, 36, 65, 122, 124, 132, 137, 161, 231, 233, 235, 252, 272, 278, 280, 283, 306, 355, 364, 367, 403, 408–409, 413–414, 416–417, 419–420, 422–423, 432–433, 463, 504, 506, 523, 569–570, 610, 614–615, 673, 692, 735–736, 744,

Index of subjects 776, 785–786, 814, 867, 926, 964, 1003, 1019–1020, 1048, 1112 implicational scale 253, 668 implosive 557, 1085 indigenization 818, 943, 1015, 1036 ingliding (see gliding) ingressive 380, 465 innovation 42, 51, 65, 83, 89–90, 122, 126, 131, 184, 219, 223, 247, 282, 334, 335, 340, 355, 362–363, 370, 372–373, 409, 448, 491, 560, 810, 812, 876, 941, 1065, 1069, 1076, 1077, 1121 interdental (see dental) interference 132, 278, 362, 407, 409, 418, 450, 463, 701, 723, 726, 788, 808, 865, 867, 871, 913, 924–925, 927, 943, 1049, 1072, 1095, 1096 intonation 45, 50, 64, 66, 74–76, 88–89, 111, 130–132, 142, 176, 185, 199, 213, 242, 252, 305, 380, 389–392, 402–403, 406, 426–427, 429, 430, 447–448, 487–488, 504, 521–522, 601, 605, 619, 639, 643, 662, 666, 687–689, 708, 713, 722–724, 728, 733, 747–748, 763, 773, 798–799, 801, 816–817, 826, 828, 839– 840, 862, 928, 943, 944, 978, 983, 993, 1000–1002, 1032, 1038, 1044, 1058, 1063, 1074, 1088, 1095, 1108, 1109, 1113, 1126, 1136 falling 64, 142, 390, 403, 724, 747, 828, 839, 856, 915, 1001, 1044, 1074 fall-rise 828, 1044 rise-fall 828, 1044, 1058 rising 142, 402, 403, 504, 521, 666, 724, 747, 773, 828, 839, 915, 978, 1001, 1044, 1058, 1074 IPA 527, 677, 680, 717, 719, 745, 789, 961, 1095 isochrony 827, 840

J jod/yod dropping (see deletion, jod/yod) jod/yod insertion 380

1147

K KIT 42–43, 51–53, 57, 59, 90, 101–102, 121, 137, 142–143, 165–166, 169, 187– 188, 198, 209, 220–222, 224–225, 236– 237, 263–264, 273, 285, 290, 294, 296, 303, 307–308, 315–316, 333, 340, 345, 347, 359, 361, 368–371, 387, 395, 404, 410–411, 438, 504, 515, 518, 529–530, 538, 555, 582, 584–589, 608–609, 611, 616–617, 621, 627, 629, 631, 640, 649, 651, 659, 663, 740, 742, 758, 761, 768, 771, 819–820, 849–850, 870, 880, 885– 886, 893, 927–928, 935–936, 940–941, 945, 947–948, 956, 967–970, 978–979, 981, 987, 991, 994–995, 1006–1007, 1013, 1024, 1038, 1050–1052, 1063, 1076, 1082, 1084, 1090–1091, 1100– 1101, 1114, 1122, 1128–1129, 1131, 1135 (see also dropping, final KIT) split 886, 935–936, 956, 967, 969, 979, 981, 987, 991, 1100, 1114 (see also split)

L /l/ 38, 52, 63, 71, 81, 86, 110, 143, 175, 242, 277, 288, 312, 342, 344, 348, 583, 584, 588–590, 592, 594–596, 612, 618, 621–623, 635, 641–642, 644, 650, 655, 661, 699, 721, 744, 791, 838, 881, 883, 895, 910, 926, 940, 949, 956, 998, 1026, 1128, 1135, 1136 Bristol 198 clear/palatal/light 38, 45, 50, 63, 71, 110, 130, 175, 446, 641, 767, 940, 998, 1073, 1108, 1125, 1136 coda 584, 588–589, 623, 641–642, 1136 dark/velarised 63, 71, 87, 110, 130–131, 143, 160, 175, 319, 377, 468, 595, 609, 611, 619, 641, 643, 744, 940, 960, 976, 998, 1011, 1073, 1073, 1094, 1108, 1125 linking 319, 595–596, 1094 postvocalic 332, 334, 368, 377–378, 388, 446, 622, 649, 651, 767, 1097, 1125

1148

Index of subjects

vocalization 63, 78, 160, 175, 190, 195–196, 201, 238, 241–242, 267, 289, 293, 299, 319, 342, 377, 388, 425, 576, 585, 589, 592, 595–596, 609, 611–612, 622, 626, 635, 640–643, 649, 651–652, 654–655, 861, 1073, 1094, 1097, 1108, 1125 (see also coda /l/) L1 99, 407, 515, 572, 577, 578, 674, 714– 715, 720–723, 731, 751–753, 767, 776– 777, 805–807, 845, 848, 851, 854, 859– 860, 862, 871, 918, 924, 931, 933–935, 937, 940, 943, 953, 955–957, 967–968, 970–973, 975–976, 978–980, 982–984, 999, 1004–1005, 1010, 1013, 1014, 1036, 1040, 1089, 1096, 1099, 1114–1116 L2 71, 74–75, 278, 412, 415, 417, 432, 447, 451, 483, 625, 658, 674, 714–715, 720, 722–723, 731, 751, 753, 774–777, 779, 805–811, 813, 816, 818–819, 845, 848, 921, 924–925, 933–935, 940, 943, 953, 966–968, 970–971, 974, 976, 982, 984, 992, 997, 1005, 1035–1036, 1049, 1053, 1099–1101, 1109, 1115, 1127 labial 43, 57, 92, 319–320, 373, 385, 442, 455, 460, 466, 473–474, 535, 546, 585, 592, 596, 641–642, 652, 660, 696, 776, 833, 840, 853, 946, 1025, 1072, 1085, 1094, 1123 (see also bilabial) -velar/labio-velar 78, 293, 401, 833, 466, 473–474, 585, 596, 840, 881, 1072 post- 373 labialization 154, 442, 467, 640, 1085, 1094, 1123, 1136 labiodental (see dental) language shift 70–71, 81, 96, 413, 806, 812, 954, 962, 981, 983 lateral 89–90, 95, 193, 241, 277, 467–468, 472, 585, 595, 611, 618, 648–649, 654, 660–661, 696, 833, 838, 881, 910, 946, 1012, 1026, 1045, 1053–1054, 1084– 1085, 1090–1092, 1094, 1122 (see also /l/ vocalization) prelateral 277, 649–650, 1090, 1122 lax 126, 239, 273, 276–277, 285–287, 290–291, 294, 307, 330–332, 341, 344, 347–348, 350, 368, 370–371, 375–376,

386, 391, 418, 420–422, 461, 498, 528, 629–632, 649, 651, 685, 695, 740–741, 756, 789–791, 793, 796–797, 823, 850, 857, 880, 887, 894, 944–947, 987–988, 1008–1010, 1026, 1075, 1084, 1127 lengthening 74, 86, 108, 111, 122, 125, 167, 178, 198–199, 225, 237, 265, 273, 286, 331, 346, 357, 370, 410, 426–427, 430– 431, 516, 519–520, 528, 629, 659, 662, 666, 702, 759–760, 769, 792, 800, 862, 945, 951, 957, 959, 974–975, 980, 988, 997, 1032, 1039, 1043, 1066, 1069–1070, 1074–1075, 1082, 1100, 1114, 1122 lenis 975, 983 lenisation 1085, 1123, 1129, 1135 lettER 43, 54, 91, 102, 108, 121, 126, 138, 154, 187, 189, 198, 201, 209, 220–221, 226–228, 236, 238, 264, 267, 273, 279, 285, 290, 294, 304, 315, 317, 340, 359, 369, 375, 377, 395, 399–400, 402, 404, 410–412, 439, 454, 460, 485, 505, 515, 518, 529, 552–553, 606–607, 628, 659, 664, 677, 695, 740–742, 761–762, 770, 772–773, 819, 821, 849, 870, 880, 892– 893, 927–928, 936, 939, 945, 947, 956, 959, 969, 974, 980, 987, 991, 994, 997, 1006, 1008, 1010, 1012, 1024, 1038, 1050, 1052, 1070, 1083, 1092, 1105, 1121, 1129, 1134, 1135 lexical set 39–43, 53, 75–76, 78–79, 84–86, 89–92, 100–101, 123, 165, 167, 169, 171–172, 188–189, 198, 199, 201, 220, 263–264, 359, 373, 387, 404, 453, 582–583, 606, 683, 758, 761–762, 771– 772, 880, 885, 888, 892–893, 899, 936, 968–969, 1006, 1024, 1040, 1050, 1063, 1075, 1083, 1091, 1094, 1100, 1112, 1130, 1131 lexifier 251, 525–526, 555, 560, 573, 671, 694, 703, 712, 715–716, 798, 871, 1095 liaison 667, 940, 1029, 1035, 1045, 1094 light /l/ (see /l/) lingua franca 511, 572–573, 657, 672, 690–692, 711–712, 751, 805–806, 813, 845, 847, 867–868, 905, 918–922, 934, 954, 965, 1018–1019, 1047

Index of subjects Linguistic Atlas of New England (LANE) 249, 270, 272–273 Linguistic Atlas of the Gulf States (LAGS) 250, 306 Linguistic Atlas of the Middle and South Atlantic States (LAMSAS) 249, 323 Linguistic Atlas of the Pacific Coast (LAPC) 343 Linguistic Atlas of the Upper Midwest (LAUM) 342, 346 Linguistic Survey of Scotland (LSS) 25, 38, 39, 40 linking 894 (see also /l/ and /r/) /g/ 858 /h/ 983 /w/ 595–596, 1094 liquid 86, 156, 289, 292, 312, 344, 348, 379, 385, 487, 520, 542, 553, 562–563, 618, 661, 680, 682, 743, 853, 881, 909, 940, 950, 962, 998, 1025, 1053–1054, 1092, 1107, 1136 (see also /l/) loan word 70–71, 109–110, 210, 212, 231, 354, 358, 467, 525, 558, 562, 598, 600, 616, 703, 744, 754, 756, 764, 767, 769, 798, 823, 881, 915 long half- 43, 80, 758, 768–770, 939, 1066 fully- 43, 1066 vowel 28, 41, 57, 70–71, 74, 80, 83–84, 100, 102, 104, 106, 108, 111, 114, 121–122, 126, 140, 144–146, 148–149, 172, 178, 189, 191, 220, 223–226, 236–237, 239, 266, 295, 371–372, 400, 409, 418–419, 453, 457, 460–461, 463, 471, 484–496, 504–505, 519, 522, 528, 581, 584, 588–590, 597–598, 601, 615, 617, 621, 626–628, 631–632, 641, 650, 660, 664, 685, 695, 702, 704–705, 756, 762, 765, 789, 790, 793, 796, 821, 927–928, 937–939, 947, 957–958, 961, 988, 995–996, 1039, 1051–1052, 1063, 1065, 1069, 1075, 1078–1080, 1082, 1091–1092, 1100–1101, 1114, 1116– 1118, 1127–1128, 1131 consonant 41, 104, 111 stressed syllable 176

1149

LOT 42, 53, 58, 75, 85–86, 91, 101–104, 121, 137, 139, 141, 144, 146, 154, 165, 167, 187–188, 198, 200, 209, 220–222, 236–237, 263, 265, 273–275, 285–287, 290, 294, 296, 303, 306–308, 310, 317, 329–331, 340–342, 347, 356, 358–359, 361, 368–369, 371–372, 374, 376, 387, 389, 395–396, 404, 410–411, 419, 438, 440–441, 453, 460, 504–505, 515, 518, 529, 533, 537, 540, 555, 563, 582, 584, 586, 589, 599, 629–630, 640, 659, 663, 740, 742, 759, 761, 769, 771, 819–820, 849, 870, 880, 887, 889, 891, 893, 928, 936–938, 945, 947, 956–957, 968, 970, 979–981, 987–988, 994–995, 997, 1006, 1008–1009, 1024, 1038, 1050, 1064, 1071, 1077, 1079–1080, 1084, 1090, 1100–1101, 1115, 1122, 1127–1129, 1131, 1135 low back merger (see merger, LOT/ CLOTH/THOUGHT) lowering 44, 57, 59, 78, 81, 88, 98, 143, 150, 154, 173, 195, 222–224, 238, 266, 276, 290–291, 296, 302, 309–313, 322, 333, 335, 345, 347, 361, 370–374, 385– 386, 391, 395–397, 422, 439–440, 490, 519, 548, 611, 619, 640, 695, 704, 758– 761, 768–770, 794–795, 799, 851, 862, 937, 941, 951, 956–958, 970, 972, 979– 980, 988, 995, 1063–1064, 1070, 1075– 1079, 1082–1083, 1090, 1104, 1112, 1114–1115, 1118, 1120, 1131, 1134

M merger 28, 38, 42, 44, 77, 87, 89, 93, 102, 125–126, 146–148, 150, 152–153, 166, 170, 174,-175, 196, 199, 237, 240, 264–265, 274–275, 277–278, 287–289, 292, 311, 314–317, 321–322, 329–332, 340–345, 348–349, 356–358, 360, 363, 373–374, 386, 418–419, 421, 442, 449, 458, 469–470, 485, 490–491, 515–516, 591, 599, 621, 649–650, 672, 680, 683, 703–705, 764, 766, 849, 857, 885, 887, 889–894, 911, 913, 918, 926–927, 944,

1150

Index of subjects

982–983, 1067, 1071, 1083–1084, 1086, 1090, 1092, 1100, 1111, 1113, 1122, 1135 LOT/CLOTH/THOUGHT 237, 273–275, 308–310, 330, 340, 342–343, 349, 356– 357, 361–363, 411, 419, 440–441, 650, 742, 850, 887, 889, 893, 927, 1079, 1084, 1100, 1122, 1127–1128 MEET/MEAT 147 NEAR/SQUARE 152–153, 239, 313, 368, 374, 439, 505, 576, 582–583, 590–592, 610, 617, 621, 623, 890–891, 1067, 1071, 1120, 1122 PIN/PEN 302, 307, 329, 331–332, 345, 347, 411, 1084 PRICE/CHOICE 140, 151–152, 238 mesolect 190, 251, 253, 383, 511, 513– 514, 516, 518–519, 521, 523, 574, 576, 680, 736, 742–743, 746, 807, 859, 867, 871, 888, 928, 944–951, 956, 961–962, 1010, 1022, 1036, 1049–1058, 1076, 1089, 1099 metathesis 201, 380, 516–517, 532, 548, 662, 756, 777, 824, 1027, 1029 minimal pair 286, 466–467, 478, 488, 583, 588, 611, 759, 797, 838, 849, 907, 926, 959, 962, 1111 monolingualism 50, 417 monophthongization 266, 311–312, 329, 332, 346–348, 387, 398, 409, 411, 490, 596, 650–651, 660, 664, 766, 849, 855– 856, 881, 889, 927, 935, 938, 958, 973, 979–980, 1010, 1040, 1075, 1080–1081, 1095, 1112, 1119 mora 581, 601, 615, 619, 762, 828, 1095 MOUTH 43–44, 53, 86, 91, 101, 107, 121, 124–125, 138, 142, 152, 172, 187–189, 191–192, 198, 200, 202, 209, 220–221, 225, 236, 238, 241, 263, 266, 273, 276, 285, 287, 290, 292, 295, 301, 303–304, 313–314, 331, 333, 340–341, 359, 368– 369, 373–374, 387, 395, 398, 402, 404, 410–411, 439, 441, 454, 460, 485, 495, 504–505, 515, 518, 529, 542, 545–546, 555, 561, 582, 592, 595–596, 600, 606, 608–610, 626, 628, 630, 632–633, 640,

659, 664, 667, 695–696, 718, 740, 742, 760, 762, 770–771, 794, 797, 819, 821, 849, 859, 870, 880, 890, 893, 927–928, 935–936, 938, 945–947, 956, 958, 960, 969, 972–973, 979, 981–983, 987, 989, 994, 996, 1006, 1008, 1024, 1038, 1050, 1052, 1068, 1081, 1091, 1103, 1119, 1128–1129, 1133, 1136 multilingualism 954

N nasal 28, 42–43, 73–74, 76, 92, 120, 127, 130–131, 139, 141–145, 155–156, 178, 202, 223, 238, 274, 285, 297, 308–309, 312, 315–316, 320–321, 331–334, 341, 345, 348, 360, 370, 376, 379, 385–386, 388–389, 396, 401, 422, 425, 454–455, 461, 467–468, 471–472, 476, 486–487, 490, 497–498, 519, 521, 540, 557–558, 585, 645–647, 660–661, 665–667, 683, 696–697, 792, 822, 833–835, 837–838, 840, 854, 857–858, 862, 880–882, 889, 895, 899, 909–911, 926, 940, 950, 957, 960, 975, 977, 979, 981, 988, 998, 1025– 1027, 1045, 1048, 1053–1054, 1073, 1084, 1086–1087, 1092, 1097, 1107, 1122, 1124, 1128–1129, 1135–1136 nasalization 50, 321, 389, 391, 407, 412, 425, 454–455, 461, 486, 498, 517, 558, 619, 698, 720, 765, 837–838, 857–858, 881–882, 910, 977, 1084, 1087, 1107, 1122, 1135 pre-nasalized 717–718, 837–838, 910, 1107 national language 112, 506, 673, 689, 693, 710, 713, 728, 829, 919, 922, 1005–1006, 1019, 1035, 1047 nativization 358, 572, 597–599, 749, 756, 766–767, 769, 943, 1036 naturalness 444, 571, 1126 NEAR 43, 53, 56, 91, 102, 107, 121, 138, 146, 152–153, 172–173, 186–188, 198, 201, 209, 220–221, 225, 236, 239, 263, 266, 273, 285, 290, 295, 304, 313, 340, 359, 368–369, 374, 387, 395, 399,

Index of subjects 402, 404, 410, 438–439, 454, 460, 485, 496, 505, 515, 518, 529, 546–548, 576, 582–583, 589–592, 599, 606, 608–611, 617, 621, 623, 628, 630, 633, 650–651, 659, 663, 740–742, 758, 760, 762, 770, 772, 819, 821, 849, 870, 880–881, 887, 890–893, 927–928, 936, 938, 945–947, 956, 958, 969, 973, 979–980, 987, 989, 994, 996, 1006, 1009–1010, 1024, 1038, 1045, 1050–1052, 1069, 1071, 1082, 1084, 1091–1092, 1104, 1111, 1120, 1122, 1129, 1133, 1135 neutralization 144, 151, 195, 344, 472, 485–486, 516, 540, 555, 562, 583–584, 588–589, 592, 617, 655, 667, 684, 701, 741–742, 756–757, 768–769, 820, 849, 939, 944, 949, 1025, 1087, 1090–1092, 1095, 1136 non-reduction (see vowels, unreduced/ nonreduced) NORTH 43–44, 53, 56, 90–91, 101, 110– 111, 121, 126, 138, 153–154, 172, 187– 188, 198, 201, 209, 220–221, 224, 226, 236, 239–241, 264, 266, 273, 277, 279, 285, 287–288, 290, 292, 295, 303–304, 314, 317, 329–331, 340–341, 348–349, 359–360, 368–369, 374, 387, 395, 397, 399, 402, 404, 410–411, 419, 433, 438, 454, 460, 505, 515, 518, 529, 550, 555, 582, 590, 659, 663, 677, 695, 740–742, 759, 762, 769, 772, 819, 821, 849, 870, 880, 891, 893, 927–928, 945, 947, 956, 958, 969, 974, 979–980, 989, 994, 996, 1006–1007, 1011, 1024, 1038, 1050, 1052, 1066–1067, 1079, 1084, 1117, 1128, 1134 Northern Cities Shift/Northern Cities Chain Shift 254, 264, 273, 294–296, 299, 340, 348–349, 361–362, 385–386, 391–392, 1076–1078, 1122 nucleus 40, 88, 274, 276, 286–287, 292, 295, 300–302, 307, 310–313, 316, 326, 333, 343, 345, 348, 351, 359–361, 373– 374, 398, 411, 420–421, 439–441, 453– 455, 457–460, 467–468, 470–472, 503, 601, 623, 641–642, 794–795, 799–800,

1151

825–826, 834, 853, 881, 919, 949, 971, 1026, 1044, 1103–1104 NURSE 42–44, 54, 89, 91, 101, 104, 108, 110–111, 121, 125–126, 130, 137, 146– 147, 149, 153, 159, 167, 172, 187–188, 198, 201, 209, 220–221, 224, 236, 239, 241, 264–266, 273, 285–287, 290, 295, 303, 309, 314, 317–318, 340, 359, 369, 375, 387, 395, 397, 404, 410–411, 439, 454, 460, 504, 515, 518, 529, 537–538, 555, 568, 582, 587–588, 591, 594, 600, 606–607, 610, 617, 621, 627, 629, 631, 640, 659, 664, 676, 694, 740, 769, 771, 819–820, 849, 850, 870, 880–881, 888, 891, 893, 908, 925, 927–928, 936–937, 945, 947, 956–957, 959, 968, 971, 979– 980, 981, 987–988, 994–995, 1006, 1008, 1024, 1038, 1050, 1052, 1067, 1069, 1071, 1080, 1091, 1094–1095, 1097, 1101–1102, 1118, 1128, 1132

O obstruent 148, 155, 292, 295, 298, 312, 332, 341, 346, 348, 368, 373, 379, 386, 389, 447, 469, 472, 487, 503, 583, 645– 647, 792, 795, 825, 858–860, 881, 883, 896, 899, 946, 951, 961, 974, 976, 979– 980, 981, 1027, 1086, 1108 offglide (see glide/gliding) onset 64, 74, 76, 150, 152–153, 156, 191, 201, 238–239, 241, 267, 273, 317, 319, 368, 372–374, 377–379, 426, 431, 442– 445, 458, 465–471, 474–475, 486–487, 497, 520, 560, 589, 595, 596, 611, 621, 629, 641–642, 648, 746, 824, 871, 882, 895, 938, 946, 949–950, 971–973, 977, 979–983, 989, 1025–1026, 1067–1069, 1078–1082, 1094, 1117–1121, 1124– 1125, 1129, 1132–1136 (see also glottal onset) cluster 467, 470–471, 486, 882, 950, 951 oral 173, 370, 379, 424, 452, 466–468, 519, 743, 835, 882, 977

1152

Index of subjects

P palatal 190, 196, 267, 279, 314, 378, 385, 400, 465–467, 473–474, 559, 585, 596, 636, 660–661, 680, 696, 698, 706, 775, 883, 895, 909, 929, 936, 950, 1025, 1092, 1097, 1124, 1136 /l/ (see /l/) alveo- 62, 370, 378, 470, 559 lamino- 660–661, 665, 1096 pre- 909 palatalization 37–38, 40, 44–45, 71, 79– 80, 88, 155, 240, 486, 490, 495, 517, 555, 559–560, 635–636, 648–649, 661, 743, 755, 895–896, 957, 1085, 1092–1093, 1097, 1123, 1135 PALM 40, 43–44, 54, 59, 101, 106, 121, 138, 149, 159, 172, 187–188, 198–199, 209, 220–221, 224, 236–237, 264–265, 273, 275, 285–287, 290, 294, 296, 304, 310, 340–341, 358–359, 369, 372, 387, 395, 397, 401, 404, 410, 419, 438, 454, 460, 504–505, 515, 518, 529, 540, 582, 590–591, 621, 642, 645–648, 653–654, 659, 663, 694, 740, 742, 759, 761, 769, 771, 819–820, 849, 870, 880, 889, 893, 928, 945, 947, 956, 957, 968, 970, 979– 980, 987, 989, 994, 996–997, 1006–1007, 1024, 1038, 1050–1052, 1066, 1078– 1079, 1091, 1116–1117, 1132 paragogue 662, 667, 700702, 706–707 pharyngeal(ization) 63–64, 108, 317, 619, 819–821 pharyngealized /l/ 110 phoneme 41, 57–58, 87, 101, 103–104, 107, 109–110, 122–123, 127, 178, 190, 218, 220, 222, 226–229, 238, 273–275, 280, 285–287, 290–291, 295, 297, 306, 340–342, 344, 355–357, 359, 368, 376, 384–385, 391, 400, 418–419, 423–424, 442, 452–455, 457, 460–461, 465–469, 471, 473–476, 485, 487, 495, 505–516, 525, 527, 531, 533–535, 542, 556–557, 559, 582–589, 591–593, 610, 659–661, 663, 665, 667, 676–677, 680–687, 689, 691, 694, 696–698, 700–701, 705, 707, 716–718, 720–722, 724–725, 727, 739,

742–744, 754–759, 762, 764–769, 772, 788, 792, 796–797, 816–817, 819, 822, 832, 838, 850, 853–854, 857, 860–861, 871, 880, 907–909, 926–928, 939, 945– 950, 962, 972–973, 975, 982, 997, 1011, 1013, 1024–1025, 1031, 1038, 1050– 1054, 1075, 1095–1097, 1111–1112, 1128 phonotactic 109, 263, 377, 384, 389, 411, 472, 525, 662, 686–687, 701–702, 724, 745, 929, 977, 982–983, 1026, 1044– 1045, 1097, 1126 pitch 73–74, 88, 111, 242, 305, 389–390, 427–430, 448, 477, 487–488, 504, 521, 601, 605, 619, 662, 666, 723, 747, 763, 772–773, 798–800, 826–828, 838–840, 862, 915–916, 951, 960, 978, 1014–1015, 1029–1030, 1032, 1044, 1074, 1109 plosive 37, 60, 71–76, 79–82, 84, 92–93, 108–109, 128–129, 131, 150, 155–157, 173–174, 192–193, 196, 228, 240–243, 278–281, 285–286, 288, 291, 293, 297– 298, 319–320, 333, 348, 370, 376, 378– 380, 385, 388, 400–401, 408, 411, 418, 424–426, 432, 445, 456, 462, 465–467, 469–470, 472, 474–475, 480, 486–487, 490, 493, 495, 503, 517, 520, 533, 557, 559–560, 563, 581, 585–586, 593, 595, 599, 614–615, 618, 622–623, 635, 660–661, 665, 667, 683–685, 696–698, 705–706, 717–718, 720–721, 742–745, 755–756, 766, 822, 833, 840, 853, 858– 860, 862, 870, 880, 882–883, 895–896, 908–909, 910, 926, 929, 935, 939–940, 949–951, 959–960, 975, 977, 979, 981, 983, 990–991, 997–998, 1011–1013, 1025, 1027–1029, 1042, 1053–1054, 1071–1072, 1085–1086, 1092–1093, 1096–1097, 1106, 1123, 1129, 1135– 1136 polysyllabic 426, 600, 650, 769, 773, 857, 862, 915, 958, 978, 1000, 1043, 1052, 1055, 1074, 1126 post-creole 656, 884 (see continuum) postvocalic 130, 329, 535, 654, 940, 996, 998, 1010, 1087 (see also /l/, /r/)

Index of subjects prefix (see affix) prelateral (see lateral) prestige 48, 83, 99, 140–141, 202, 208, 212, 217, 238, 240–242, 303, 318, 323, 364, 383, 515–516, 568, 591, 613, 615, 625, 649, 752, 776, 815, 817, 868–869, 920, 923, 933, 935, 944, 954, 957–958, 969, 1018, 1022, 1065, 1099, 1125 covert 238, 241, 776, 869 PRICE 43–44, 54, 57, 90–91, 101, 106– 107, 121, 125, 138, 140, 151–152, 170, 187–189, 198, 200, 209–210, 219–221, 225, 236, 238, 264, 266, 273, 276, 285, 287, 290, 292, 295, 300–301, 304, 307, 310–312, 314, 329, 332, 335, 340–341, 359, 368–369, 373, 387, 395, 398, 404, 410–411, 439, 441, 454, 460, 503–505, 515, 518, 529, 543–545, 555, 582, 591, 599–600, 608–611, 626–627, 630, 632– 633, 640, 659, 664, 677, 695, 740, 742, 760–761, 770–771, 819, 821, 849, 870, 880–881, 890, 893, 928, 935–936, 938, 945–947, 956, 958, 969, 972–973, 979, 981–982, 987, 989, 991, 994, 996, 1006, 1008, 1024, 1038, 1050, 1052, 1067, 1080–1081, 1091, 1103, 1118, 1128, 1133 prosody 45, 75, 95, 101, 111, 130, 132, 142, 242, 303, 305–306, 331, 380, 391, 419, 426–427, 429–430, 432–433, 436, 438, 447–448, 477–479, 487, 504, 521– 523, 576, 598, 600, 619, 622, 687, 722, 726, 746, 749, 789, 798–801, 816, 824, 883, 907, 915, 944, 951–952, 1000, 1013, 1029, 1038, 1063, 1074–1075, 1087, 1095, 1097, 1113, 1126, 1136 prothesis 662, 667, 767, 999

R /r/ 28, 62, 64, 78–79, 81–82, 84–86, 88, 93, 175, 178–179, 195, 197, 200–202, 211– 212, 228, 241, 285, 288–289, 309, 314, 317, 324, 476, 484–485, 517, 568, 581, 583, 588–589, 592, 594–596, 599, 606, 610, 612, 615, 618, 660, 666, 679, 680,

1153

682, 684–685, 696, 699, 717, 721, 743, 860, 881–882, 894–895, 910, 926–927, 940, 949–953, 957, 961–964, 996–1000, 1029, 1070, 1073, 1082–1084, 1087, 1092–1097, 1105, 1122, 1125, 1129, 1135–1136 (see also rhoticity) intrusive 159, 175, 195, 227–228, 241, 279, 288, 301, 317, 321, 334, 342, 401, 595, 860, 940, 961, 1029, 1045, 1073, 1087, 1094, 1125, 1129, 1136 linking 75, 152, 154–155, 159, 175, 195, 227–228, 241, 279, 317, 595–596, 858, 860, 894, 940, 961, 976, 983, 1029, 1045, 1094, 1108 postvocalic 60, 62–63, 67, 196, 259, 265–267, 269–270, 277, 279, 285, 317, 324, 329, 333, 341, 377, 446, 476, 568, 606, 940, 957, 996, 998–999, 1010, 1087, 1105, 1125, 1136 vocalization 62–64, 265, 279, 356–357, 362, 446, 596 raising 39, 41, 44, 57, 64–65, 73–74, 76, 78, 85–88, 92, 102, 107, 131, 142, 144, 152–153, 159, 166, 222–223, 225, 237– 238, 266, 274–276, 286–288, 291–292, 295–297, 307–308, 310, 315, 321, 341, 348, 359–362, 364, 368, 370, 371, 373, 375, 385–386, 391, 398, 413–414, 421– 423, 436, 439, 441, 446, 529, 532–533, 541, 548, 591, 599, 611, 630, 632, 640, 651, 704, 740–742, 758–760, 768–770, 796, 828, 840, 880, 937, 940–941, 956– 957, 970, 972–973, 989, 1010, 1039, 1065, 1074–1077, 1079–1083, 1090– 1091, 1101, 1112, 1114–1116, 1118–1119, 1121–1122, 1131–1134, Canadian Raising 276, 292, 295, 341, 351, 356, 359–360, 362, 364, 368, 373, 441, 795, 971–973, 975, 979, 981–982, 1081, 1119 real-time 65, 425 Received Pronunciation [RP] 25, 28, 29, 31, 57, 61, 88, 92, 102–106, 109–110, 123–126, 128, 130, 142, 144–146, 150– 151, 154–155, 158, 165–166, 170–172, 175–176, 184–186, 189–191, 193, 198,

1154

Index of subjects

200–202, 209–210, 217–230, 235, 240, 252, 309, 354, 504, 530–532, 534–535, 584–585, 587–591, 595–596, 598–600, 603, 607–608, 619, 626–627, 647, 649, 775, 789, 808, 815, 817, 849–861, 863, 886–889, 891–896, 899–900, 927–928, 931, 937–938, 940–941, 956–958, 960– 961, 967, 970, 975, 977–978, 988–989, 991–993, 996, 998–1001, 1007–1014, 1024–1032, 1040, 1043–1045, 1063– 1075, 1086, 1091, 1094, 1099, 1108– 1109, 1111–1112, 1114–1119, 1121, 1125, 1127–1128 Mainstream 72, 83, 86, 190, 219, 227, 255, 384, 437, 576, 578, 720, 913, 967, 993, 1086 Traditional 25, 189, 219–229, 1064, 1067–1070 reduplication 459, 688, 706–708, 1023 resonant 346, 976 restructuring 182, 255, 483, 488–489, 497, 656, 885–887, 890–891, 894, 899–900, 911–913, 1076 retraction 50, 85–86, 92, 126, 225, 308, 310, 333, 335, 360–361, 371, 373, 375, 626, 956, 969, 978, 980, 1064 retroflex 42, 50, 62–63, 73, 75, 81, 86–87, 93, 130, 197, 200–201, 211, 317, 324, 341, 375, 517, 594, 660–661, 680, 684, 766, 860, 940, 959–960, 998, 1011, 1053–1054, 1073, 1087, 1096–1097, 1106–1107, 1123, 1136 rhotic(ity) 28, 30, 56, 62, 79, 92, 104, 107, 110–111, 120, 126, 129–130, 139, 159, 175, 180, 195, 197, 200–201, 211, 226, 236, 239, 241, 279, 285, 288, 293, 298, 300–301, 309, 313–315, 317–318, 322, 330, 334, 360, 377, 446, 470, 476, 485, 487, 490, 503, 505, 576, 594–595, 605–607, 610, 650, 660–661, 679, 950, 974, 1008, 1010, 1052, 1066–1067, 1069–1070, 1073, 1082–1083, 1087, 1094–1095, 1097, 1102, 1107, 1120, 1122, 1125, 1129, 1136 (see also /r/) hyper- 201, 377 non- 30, 92, 107, 120, 139, 159, 175, 195, 201, 285, 287–288, 300–301, 303,

309–310, 313–315, 317–318, 322, 334, 360, 411–412, 446, 485, 491, 493, 495– 496, 517, 551, 582, 594–595, 606, 654, 766, 792, 822, 856, 860–861, 927, 940, 961, 976, 989, 997, 1066, 1069–1070, 1073, 1087, 1094, 1102, 1120, 1125, 1136 pre- 277 semi- 239, 241, 568, 605 rhoticization 158 rhythm 64, 176, 268, 306, 380, 504, 576, 581, 600–601, 615, 619–620, 623–624, 746, 763, 816–817, 827–830, 840, 884, 893, 918, 928–930, 951, 961, 1001, 1013–1014, 1029–1030, 1044, 1055, 1088, 1095, 1097, 1126 rise-fall (see intonation) rising (see intonation) rounding 44, 58, 104, 110, 117, 126, 141, 143–146, 150, 167, 170, 172, 191, 199, 209–210, 222–226, 237, 239, 273, 296, 302, 308, 313, 318–319, 329, 334, 340, 343, 371–373, 375, 377, 396–397, 421, 440, 455, 490, 505, 516, 519, 531–535, 545, 582–583, 585, 589, 612, 621, 640, 648, 679, 789, 853, 908, 937–938, 956– 958, 970, 972–973, 979–980, 988–989, 991, 995–996, 1009, 1066–1067, 1072, 1077, 1079, 1082, 1090, 1094, 1101– 1112, 1115, 1117–1118, 1131–1132 rural 27, 29, 47–48, 71, 74, 77, 86, 88, 90–92, 94, 99–101, 104, 112, 120, 130, 134–136, 155, 175, 177, 180, 184, 190, 199–202, 207, 211, 234, 241, 254, 272, 275–276, 278–281, 297, 299–300, 303, 305, 307–308, 310, 312, 314–315, 319, 321–323, 325–326, 328–332, 334–337, 342, 345–346, 354, 366–370, 372–377, 379, 407, 412, 501, 504–505, 511, 513– 515, 517, 523, 569, 577, 606, 610, 651, 653–654, 672, 677, 697, 700–701, 715– 716, 719–723, 728, 730, 752, 758, 764, 787, 813, 844, 845, 847, 892, 895, 904, 933, 1064, 1066–1071, 1081, 1086–1087, 1096–1097 rural pidgin 715–716, 722–723

Index of subjects

S schwa 56, 79, 102, 108, 152, 176, 238, 266, 308, 421, 484, 611, 679, 741, 746, 768–769, 771, 794, 855, 862, 893, 944– 948, 957, 959, 969, 990, 1008, 1012, 1026, 1040, 1045, 1051, 1081–1083, 1090, 1092, 1095, 1099, 1108, 1114, 1119–1121, 1127 Scottish Vowel Length Rule 41, 56, 64, 67, 1066, 1070, 1122, 1129 second language (see L2) segmental features 74, 131, 376, 390, 479, 525, 753, 798, 662, 816, 900, 955, 968, 1013, 1033, 1038, 1045 selection 56, 59, 254, 259, 463, 468, 525, 626, 725, 787-- 788, 806, 992, 1112 semilingualism 1047 shortening 122–123, 145, 147–148, 150– 151, 166–167, 223, 276, 332–333, 335, 360, 431, 484, 519, 593, 650, 653, 701, 937, 957–958, 961, 972, 974, 1001, 1039, 1075, 1078, 1114, 1117, 1132 simplicity 753, 784 simplification 84, 159, 219, 321, 334, 385, 425, 434, 479, 686, 805, 811, 824, 836, 849, 882, 895, 914, 925, 944, 951, 990, 1037, 1087, 1126, 1136 smoothing 172–174, 226, 856 sociolect 167, 633, 647, 645, 648, 651, 653, 655, 657, 715, 727, 1042–1043, 1049 sonorant 72, 84, 128, 373, 378–379, 456, 469, 593, 706, 881, 949–950, 1000, 1073, 1086, 1094, 1097, 1124 sonority 71, 229, 425–426, 434, 469, 702 Southern Drawl 303, 305, 308, 323, 329– 331 Southern Shift 264, 307–308, 322–323, 329, 333, 335, 337, 386, 391, 1076, 1078– 1080, 1082, 1117, 1120, 1122, 1128 spelling pronunciation 102–103, 105, 111, 211, 260, 265, 310, 341, 601, 618, 622, 685, 758–759, 767, 823, 853, 855, 858, 861–862, 889, 925, 928, 998, 1012, 1084, 1122 split 72, 273, 341, 542, 892–893, 899, 929, 1060, 1112

1155

CURE 890, 892–893 DRESS 886 FOOT-STRUT 115, 119–23, 139–140, 178, 535 GOAT-GOAL 190 KIT 886, 935–936, 956, 967, 969, 979, 981, 991, 1100, 1114 LOT-CLOTH 537 NURSE 888, 893 PRICE 989 TRAP 588 TRAP-BATH (‘short a’) 285, 290, 356, 362, 536, 792 SQUARE 43–44, 53, 59, 89, 91–92, 101, 107, 110–111, 121, 125, 138, 146, 152–153, 172–173, 187–188, 198, 201, 209, 219–221, 226, 236, 239, 263, 266, 273, 279, 285, 290, 295, 304, 313, 316, 340, 359, 368–369, 374, 387, 395, 399, 402, 404, 410–411, 435, 438–439, 454, 460, 505, 515, 518, 529, 547–548, 555, 558, 576, 582–583, 588, 590–592, 599, 608–611, 617, 621, 623, 628, 630, 633, 650, 659, 663, 677, 695, 740–742, 758, 760, 762, 770, 772, 819, 821, 849, 870, 880–881, 885, 890–891, 893, 927–928, 936, 938, 945–947, 956, 958–959, 969, 973, 979–980, 987, 990, 994, 996, 1006, 1009–1010, 1024, 1038, 1050–1052, 1055, 1067, 1069, 1071, 1082, 1084, 1087, 1092, 1104, 1120, 1122, 1129, 1133–1135 START 43–44, 53, 55, 91, 101, 107, 110– 111, 121, 138, 146, 149, 153, 159, 172, 187–188, 198, 201, 209, 220–221, 226, 236, 239, 241, 264, 266, 273, 276, 279, 285, 287, 290, 292, 295, 302, 304, 309– 310, 313–315, 340, 348, 359–360, 368– 369, 374, 387, 395, 399, 402, 404, 410, 438, 454, 460, 487, 505, 515, 518, 529, 548–549, 555, 582, 586, 588, 590–592, 596, 606, 616–617, 621, 626–627, 659, 663, 677, 695, 740–742, 759, 762, 769, 772, 791, 819, 821, 849, 870, 880, 889, 891, 893, 928, 945, 947, 956–957, 969, 973, 979–980, 987, 989, 994, 996, 1004,

1156

Index of subjects

1006–1008, 1012, 1024, 1038, 1050– 1052, 1055, 1066, 1078–1079, 1084, 1090–1091, 1095, 1116–1117, 1134 stop (see plosive, glottal stop) stress 41, 63, 70, 73–74, 79–80, 82, 100, 102–104, 108–111, 126–127, 130, 141–142, 151–156, 158, 165–166, 169– 170, 173–176, 192, 196, 200, 212–213, 220–226, 228–229, 242, 267–268, 279, 285–286, 290, 293, 305–306, 308–309, 311, 313, 315, 317–318, 320–322, 329– 332, 334, 358, 370, 375–377, 379–380, 388–390, 399–400, 406, 409, 411–412, 418–419, 421, 425–428, 446–448, 478, 487, 504, 515–516, 519–521, 528, 541, 555, 557, 562, 570, 582, 584, 587, 592– 593, 595–601, 619, 623, 636, 650, 662, 666–667, 687–689, 700–702, 708, 713, 722–725, 740–741, 743–744, 746–747, 760–763, 770–773, 775–776, 779, 791, 795, 809–810, 822, 824–827, 830, 839– 840, 882, 896–900, 907, 911–913, 916, 927–930, 935, 939, 944–946, 950–952, 961, 963, 971–974, 977–980, 990–991, 995, 1000–1001, 1008, 1012–1014, 1020, 1024, 1029–1031, 1038, 1043–1044, 1051–1053, 1055–1057, 1063, 1074– 1075, 1083, 1087–1088, 1092–1093, 1096–1097, 1108–1109, 1122, 1126– 1127, 1129, 1136 -shift 825, 978–980, 1074, 1108, 1129 -timing 306, 425–426, 447, 504, 619, 747, 773, 827, 829, 883, 930, 944, 951, 961, 1014, 1030, 1044, 1055, 1088, 1097, 1108, 1126–1127, 1136 STRUT 28, 42, 44, 53, 91, 101–103, 108, 115, 119–123, 137, 139–140, 144, 165, 167, 169, 178–179, 187–188, 198–199, 209–211, 220–223, 225, 236–237, 239, 263, 265–266, 273, 285, 290–291, 294– 297, 303, 307–308, 333, 340, 359, 369, 371, 376, 387, 395–396, 404, 410, 438, 440, 485, 504–505, 515, 518, 529, 533– 535, 537, 545, 555, 582, 584–588, 590, 599, 616, 623, 627, 630, 659, 663, 740, 742, 759, 761, 769, 771, 819–820, 849–

850, 853, 870, 880, 887, 893, 927–928, 936–937, 945, 947, 956, 968, 970, 979– 980, 987–988, 994–995, 1006–1007, 1011, 1024, 1038, 1050–1052, 1055, 1065, 1071, 1077, 1084, 1090–1091, 1095, 1100–1101, 1115, 1122, 1127– 1129, 1131, 1135 subphonemic level 853, 926 substrate 354, 422, 424–425, 427, 430– 432, 445, 482, 503, 556–560, 563, 617, 657, 684, 688, 694, 706–707, 712, 720– 721, 723, 749, 808, 812, 840, 871, 955, 1028–1029, 1037, 1042, 1058, 1089, 1096 suffix (see affix) superstrate 503, 510, 657, 706, 839, 1022– 1023, 1076 supraphonemic level 926, 928 supraregional(ization) 25, 30, 70–72, 75, 78–80, 84–85, 87, 90–93, 186, 252, 1064, 1068, 1128 suprasegmental 63, 74, 213, 342, 413, 432, 455, 487–488, 499–500, 521, 523, 662, 666, 739, 753, 763, 809, 862, 882, 896, 928, 930, 944–945, 950, 961, 977, 1043, 1045 Survey of English Dialects (SED) 29, 33, 102, 106, 136, 161–162, 164, 178, 191, 210, 216, 555 svarabhakti 999 syllabic consonant 202, 228–229, 241, 467–468, 824, 1000, 1055, 1108 /l/ 128, 157, 242, 289, 378, 468, 521, 635, 641–642, 652, 744, 861, 1026, 1045, 1092 nasal 228–229, 378–379, 467–468, 635, 834, 990, 1026, 1045, 1092 /r/ 309, 317, 358, 375, 378, 606 syllable structure 38, 41, 434, 458, 467, 472, 476, 491, 520, 581, 615, 687, 695, 700, 702–703, 724, 824, 827, 834, 882, 929, 950, 1002, 1026, 1045, 1055 syllable timing 306, 447, 666, 1014, 1108–1109 syncope 553, 662, 667, 886

Index of subjects

T /t/ 60, 61, 74, 79, 81, 84, 93, 109, 166, 173–174, 192, 196–197, 228, 242–243, 278, 288–289, 298, 570, 586, 593, 595, 609, 612, 618, 622, 635–636, 644, 661, 665–666, 680, 700, 717–718, 721, 743, 881–882, 895–896, 915, 926, 948, 998, 1025–1026, 1071–1072, 1085, 1092– 1093, 1096, 1108, 1123, 1129, 1135 (see also glottalization) tap 62, 79, 158–159, 267, 317, 320, 355, 465, 487, 581, 593, 615, 618, 623, 635, 681, 696, 887, 976, 1028, 1053, 1055, 1072–1073, 1092 tautosyllabic 320, 330, 332, 368, 390, 458, 460, 471, 476 tensing 80, 126, 131, 139, 169, 187, 274, 285–286, 291, 307–308, 348–349, 369–371, 376, 385–386, 421–422, 424, 491, 587, 649, 685, 740, 742, 886–891, 945, 951, 1026, 1065, 1069, 1076, 1078, 1082–1083, 1116, 1131, 1133–1134 TH stopping 37, 42, 240, 486–487, 493, 495, 975, 979, 981, 1072, 1135 fronting 65, 185, 192, 202, 214, 608, 612 THOUGHT 43, 54, 58, 75, 84–85, 91, 97, 101, 106, 121, 138–139, 144, 146, 149–150, 154, 159, 172, 187–188, 198, 209, 220–221, 224, 226, 236, 264–265, 273–275, 285–286, 288, 290–291, 294, 296, 300, 304, 306–310, 329–331, 340– 342, 347, 356, 359, 361, 368–369, 371– 372, 387, 395, 397, 404, 410–411, 419, 438, 440, 454, 460, 504–505, 515, 518, 529, 540, 555, 582, 584, 589–591, 599, 606, 617, 628, 659, 663, 740, 742–743, 759, 761, 769, 771, 793, 797, 819–820, 849–850, 870, 880, 887, 889, 891, 893, 927–928, 936–939, 945, 947, 956–957, 960, 968, 971, 979–980, 987, 989, 994, 996–998, 1006–1007, 1024, 1038–1039, 1042, 1050–1052, 1066, 1071, 1079, 1084, 1091, 1101–1102, 1117, 1122, 1128–1129, 1132, 1135

1157

tone 45, 50, 64, 88, 130, 142, 176, 213, 242, 390, 402–403, 487–488, 521–523, 527, 529, 557, 563, 588, 601, 639, 643, 710, 716, 800, 809, 825–828, 838–841, 856, 862, 898, 907, 915–917, 951, 978, 998, 1074, 1088, 1095, 1108–1109, 1126–1127, 1137 lexical 488, 527, 716, 839 TRAP 42, 44, 53, 58–59, 90, 101–102, 104, 106, 121, 137, 139–146, 165–166, 169, 187–188, 198–199, 209, 219–223, 226, 228, 236–237, 239, 263–264, 273– 275, 285–286, 290, 294, 296–297, 303, 308–310, 340, 347–348, 356, 358–359, 361, 368–370, 372, 374, 387, 395–396, 404, 410, 419, 438–439, 441, 453, 460, 485, 504–505, 515, 518, 529, 532–533, 536, 555, 582, 584, 586–588, 590, 592, 599, 606, 608–609, 611, 616, 621, 628, 630, 640, 645–647–649, 651, 653–655, 659, 663, 740, 742, 758, 761, 768, 771, 819–820, 849–851, 870, 880, 887–889, 891, 893, 927–928, 936–937, 940–941, 945, 947, 956, 961, 968, 970, 978, 981, 987–988, 994–995, 998, 1006, 1024, 1038, 1050–1052, 1055, 1064–1065, 1071, 1077–1078, 1084, 1090–1091, 1095, 1100–1101, 1115, 1122, 1127, 1129, 1131, 1135 trill 63, 79, 412, 661, 666, 680, 756, 871, 909, 940, 950, 957, 976, 996–998, 1055, 1087, 1097, 1129, 1136 triphthong 173, 201,303, 308, 313, 315, 790, 822, 912, 997, 1010, 1081

U unaspirated (see aspiration) unreleased 93, 424, 743, 748, 755, 974, 1028–1029, 1096 unrounding 58, 77, 85, 88, 92, 103, 144–146, 167, 190–191, 199, 273, 292, 294, 296, 308, 313, 329, 340, 358, 361, 371, 374, 377, 396–397, 505, 519, 589, 591–592, 651, 908,

766, 121, 288, 342, 421, 938,

1158

Index of subjects

956–957, 988, 996, 1066, 1077, 1080, 1090, 1112, 1115, 1118, 1131–1132, 1134 upgliding (see gliding) uptalk (see High Rising Terminal) urban 30–32, 47, 50, 53–55, 58–62, 65, 67, 70–71, 77, 82–83, 85–87, 94, 99–100, 114, 120, 123, 126, 128–130, 134–136, 139, 141, 151, 157, 159, 162, 164, 166, 176, 182, 185, 187, 191, 198–199, 201– 202, 209, 231–232, 234, 238, 243, 254, 261, 265, 270, 273, 282–283, 297–299, 303, 312–313, 323, 325–336, 339, 345, 347, 353, 359, 367, 370–377, 383–384, 417, 420, 433, 435, 448, 501, 504–505, 513, 515, 518, 569, 577, 610, 653, 670, 673–674, 692–693, 701–702, 707–708, 715–716, 720–721, 723, 728, 731, 751– 752, 758, 815, 844, 847, 866, 869, 904– 906, 917, 954, 1063–1064, 1066–1069, 1072, 1076–1079, 1081, 1084, 1086– 1087, 1089, 1097, 1114, 1117–1118, 1122, 1124 uvular 110, 126, 129, 377, 765, 939, 976, 1073, 1087, 1129, 1136

V variability 32, 132, 191, 212, 224, 357, 411, 441, 476, 514–515, 612, 624, 627, 629, 636, 663, 697, 720–723, 792, 794, 796, 818, 829, 852–853, 856–857, 860–861, 946–947, 962, 971, 974, 1064, 1066–1067, 1075–1076, 1080, 10831084, 1111–1112, 1115, 1117–1119, 1125, 1127 variable 25, 51, 60, 62–63, 85, 89, 122, 128, 130, 132, 146, 148, 150, 155, 180, 187, 191, 195–197, 199, 209, 211, 213, 223, 229, 236, 241, 250, 274–275, 279, 281, 284, 286, 293, 298, 303, 314–315, 317, 321, 349, 351, 355–356, 359–362, 369–370, 372, 374–375, 377–380, 399, 401, 407, 411–412, 415, 419–420, 422– 423, 425–426, 432–434, 444, 446, 452, 461, 463–464, 474–475, 477, 479, 482, 485, 515, 517, 522, 536, 576, 583, 593–

597, 599–600, 606, 609, 618, 623, 626, 637, 640, 644–645, 647–649, 652, 655, 663, 679, 697, 714, 723, 777, 827, 861, 866, 895, 945, 961, 972, 974, 990, 1005, 1028, 1045, 1049, 1066, 1072, 1074, 1077, 1092–1094, 1113, 1124 sociolinguistic 192, 201–202, 409, 584, 700, 1090 variant 32, 42–44, 51–53, 55–59, 61–63, 73, 89, 92, 102, 105, 109, 123–129, 144–146, 151, 154, 156–157, 170, 172, 184–187, 189–193, 196, 199–200, 214, 220–221, 223, 225–226, 235–237, 240– 241, 253, 260, 262–264, 266, 268, 276, 278, 285–287, 289, 291, 296, 306–311, 313–315, 317, 319–320, 332, 334, 341, 344, 346–348, 356, 368–369, 371–373, 375–376, 378, 384, 400, 407, 409, 414, 416, 424, 440–442, 452, 456, 462–464, 474–476, 479, 484, 486, 503, 505, 515– 518, 535, 544, 551–552, 587–589, 591– 594, 597, 599, 605, 611, 616–617, 621, 626–628, 631–633, 635–638, 640, 664, 666, 680, 684, 696–697, 717, 736, 753, 758, 769, 808, 818, 851, 855, 857, 859, 870, 946, 948, 950, 956–959, 962, 969, 972–973, 976, 982, 988, 997–998, 1005, 1010, 1064–1067, 1069, 1077–1083, 1085, 1091–1092, 1094–1095, 1101– 1103, 1105–1106, 1112–1122, 1130, 1136 variation 25–26, 28–30, 32, 37, 39–43, 46, 51, 53, 58–60, 62, 65–66, 94, 101–102, 104, 107–108, 124, 128, 130, 132–133, 140–141, 152, 156–157, 170–172, 177, 189–190, 193, 203, 208, 215, 218, 223– 224, 226, 231–232, 235, 243, 249–250, 252–254, 257, 261, 264, 266, 269, 276, 280–281, 283–284, 286, 288, 290, 293– 294, 297, 299, 308–310, 312–313, 319, 321, 324, 329, 335–337, 341, 349–351, 358–359, 364, 381, 386, 400–401, 415, 430, 433–434, 443, 445, 448–449, 456, 462–468, 470, 474–475, 477, 480, 483, 490, 495, 502, 506, 514–515, 517, 536, 543, 568–569, 574–578, 581, 593, 595,

Index of subjects 597, 599, 604–608, 613, 617–618, 625– 626, 630–631, 633, 640, 643–645, 647, 649–650, 652, 654–655, 664, 668–669, 674, 677, 679–680, 682–684, 687, 693– 694, 696–697, 699–703, 705, 707–708, 715–716, 719–721, 724, 727, 736, 740, 742–744, 748–749, 752–753, 758–760, 764, 769, 773, 777, 779, 784, 787–788, 791, 794–797, 818, 820, 825, 827, 829, 838–839, 848, 852, 854–858, 871, 881, 884–885, 889, 906, 915, 921, 924, 928, 931, 935–937, 948, 950, 955, 959, 962, 975–976, 986–989, 992–993, 995–998, 1002, 1005, 1007–1011, 1013–1015, 1017, 1022, 1032, 1038, 1043, 1045, 1050–1052, 1054, 1063–1066, 1075, 1078, 1086, 1089, 1091–1096, 1099, 1101, 1102, 1104, 1111–1112, 1119, 1121 velar 28, 42–43, 73, 79–81, 88, 92, 120, 127, 139, 155, 212, 238, 297, 317, 319, 360, 370, 377, 385, 466–468, 471, 473– 474, 490, 495, 517, 555, 558–559, 585, 592–593, 596, 652, 660–661, 665, 696, 721, 744, 765, 776, 822, 840, 854, 882, 909–910, 929, 936, 939, 956, 969, 987, 998, 1025, 1072–1073, 1085–1087, 1094, 1100, 1106, 1123–1124, 1128–1129, 1135–1136 (see also labio-velar) velarization 63–64,71–72, 75, 87, 131, 142, 242, 401, 468, 471, 486, 595, 861, 940, 950, 1011, 1129 (see also /l/ velarized) vernacularization 72 vocalization (see /l/, /r/) voicing 64, 109, 156, 197–198, 201–202, 267, 380, 389–390, 472, 491, 495, 517, 593, 665, 683, 685, 696, 860, 862, 894– 895, 949, 1012, 1041, 1054, 1085, 1096– 1097, 1123, 1129, 1135 voiced 41, 50, 57, 90, 110, 155, 198, 201, 228, 240, 266–267, 285–286, 291, 312– 313, 320, 332, 335, 342, 348, 360, 370, 376, 386, 388, 398, 401, 441, 447, 469, 475, 485, 490, 517, 521, 557, 581, 593, 595, 615, 618, 635, 660–661, 665, 680,

1159

683, 696–698, 705, 717, 720–721, 743, 755–756, 765, 767, 853, 859–860, 880– 881, 935, 939, 950, 960, 962, 975, 998, 1012–1013, 1027, 1070, 1072, 1080, 1085, 1086, 1093, 1096, 1103, 1106, 1119, 1123–1124, 1133, 1135–1136 voiceless 41–42, 50, 61, 74, 79, 86, 90, 108, 110, 128, 155, 167, 178, 201, 228, 276, 285, 292, 295, 310–313, 332, 335, 341, 348, 351, 359–360, 368, 370, 373, 378, 387, 397–398, 400–401, 424, 441–442, 447, 456, 466, 469, 472, 475, 487, 497, 503, 517, 521, 583, 585, 593, 595, 599, 607, 614, 618, 660–661, 665, 680, 683–684, 696, 705, 721, 740, 743, 746, 755, 766, 774, 792, 795, 859, 862, 881, 883, 914, 935, 939, 950, 962, 974–975, 997–999, 1012–1013, 1025, 1027, 1053–1054, 1071–1072, 1081, 1085–1086, 1093, 1096, 1103, 1119, 1123–1124, 1133, 1135–1136 vowel back 44, 56, 63, 77–78, 84–86, 124, 170, 222, 225–226, 235, 264–266, 275, 292, 295, 316–317, 330–331, 333–334, 340, 343, 345, 348–349, 358, 380, 409, 412, 421, 440, 454–455, 495, 521, 540, 596, 617, 623, 627–628, 640, 642, 649, 664, 704, 792–793, 796, 850–851, 854, 858–859, 908, 928, 950, 956–958, 962, 995–996, 998, 1009, 1039, 1066, 1091, 1094, 1116, 1128 central 108, 125, 224, 270, 330, 358, 398–399, 440, 484, 589, 590, 626–629, 632, 648, 664, 677, 679, 704, 789–790, 850–851, 927, 937, 944–947, 1008, 1070, 1080, 1090, 1092, 1118 devoiced (see devoicing, vowel) epenthetic 42, 56, 130, 158, 195, 198, 379, 529, 563, 686, 697, 699, 700–701, 717, 722, 724–725, 727, 756, 767, 777, 821, 824, 859, 862, 893, 1004, 1055, 1097, 1107 front 40, 45, 73, 78, 80–81, 83, 170, 172, 222, 224, 237, 264, 267, 273, 275, 277, 295, 307, 317, 319, 330–331,

1160

Index of subjects

333–334, 347, 358, 360, 370, 375, 388, 391, 399, 409, 419, 421, 439, 453–454, 457, 485, 490, 530, 533, 538, 543, 546, 559, 587–588, 608, 611, 627–628, 642, 648, 664, 686–687, 790–791, 851, 854, 858–860, 880, 886, 908, 928, 940–941, 945, 948, 978, 981, 990, 1009, 1071, 1084, 1090–1091, 1100, 1121, 1127 harmony 267, 496–497, 527, 663, 699– 700, 706–707, 751, 816, 856–857, 892, 929, 1055, 1096–1097, 1122, 1135 length 39, 41, 56, 64, 67, 73–74, 198, 235, 516, 588–589, 592, 597, 660, 662, 695, 703, 720, 754, 765, 816, 819, 827, 850, 862, 928, 945, 947, 1025–1026, 1031, 1039, 1052, 1066, 1070, 1095, 1101, 1122, 1129 reduction 222, 418–419, 599, 791, 827–828, 862, 883, 885, 890–894, 900, 1012, 1040, 1055, 1088, 1108, 1126 retraction 85–86, 92, 126, 225, 308, 310, 333, 335, 360–361, 371, 373, 375, 626, 956, 969, 978, 980, 1064 underspecified 455–456, 461–462, 707 unreduced/nonreduced 239, 484, 485, 504, 911–913, 959, 972, 977, 981, 1012, 1040 untensed 999 weak 619, 1070, 1083–1084, 1092, 1121

W w/v alternation 442–444 word-final 61, 78–79, 93, 108–110, 156– 157, 166, 173–174, 198, 202, 214, 225, 228, 267, 275, 286, 288, 293, 313, 317, 348, 375, 378, 389–390, 399, 401–402, 412, 446, 455, 459, 484–487, 495, 498, 517, 537, 539–540, 543, 544, 558, 586, 593, 596, 606, 679, 680, 682, 684–687, 700, 724, 740–741, 744, 755, 765–766, 822, 824, 835, 856, 858–859, 889, 929, 939, 971–976, 982–983, 999, 1011, 1025–1027, 1029, 1042, 1054, 1071– 1072, 1080–1083, 1085–1087, 1093, 1095–1097, 1106–1107, 1121, 1123– 1126, 1129, 1135–1136 word-initial 108, 110, 156, 158, 174, 201, 229, 240, 278, 293, 376, 378–379, 390, 401–402, 411–412, 445, 466, 486–487, 518, 520, 585, 596, 599, 683–684, 686– 687, 724, 744, 767, 858, 935, 949, 961, 977, 990, 999, 1013, 1054, 1071–1072, 1085–1087, 1123–1124, 1126, 1128– 1129, 1135–1136

Y yod (see jod)

Index of varieties and languages

A Aboriginal English [AbE] 569, 574–576, 578, 656–670, 1089, 1091–1093, 1095, 1115, 1118, 1120, 1126 Aboriginal languages 569–570, 572–573, 659–661, 664, 666, 670 Aboriginal Pidgin [AbP] 674 African American Vernacular English [AAVE, African American English, AAE] 232–233, 238, 248, 250–251, 254–255, 312, 322, 336, 383–392, 417, 423, 425, 439–442, 446, 501, 810–811, 876, 883–884, 991, 1076–1088, 1099, 1115, 1123, 1125–1126 African Nova Scotian [Nova Scotian] 990 Afrikaans 810–812, 933–934, 939–940, 942, 955, 965–968, 977, 980–982, 984, 986, 1108 Afrikaans English [AfkE] 811, 931–942, 965, 968–973, 976–977, 979, 982, 1108 Akan (see also Igbo) 845, 847, 850–851, 856, 858–861, 863, 866–867, 871 Aluku 526 American English [AmE] 163, 248–264, 268–269, 273, 277–278, 280–281, 295, 303, 305, 307–308, 312, 317, 319, 321, 324–325, 333, 336, 338, 348, 350–352, 354–356, 358, 360–361, 363, 383–385, 391–392, 396, 406, 409, 411–412, 419– 421, 425, 427–430, 432, 436, 439–440, 443, 446–448, 513, 530–535, 570–571, 577, 600, 741–743, 747, 752, 775, 786, 811, 815, 823–824, 848, 860, 880, 883– 884, 929, 946, 956, 1014, 1048–1049, 1054–1058, 1077, 1079, 1082, 1084, 1086–1088, 1094, 1112–1120, 1123– 1126 Anglo-Indian (see Indian English) Anglo-Saxon 28, 48, 113–115, 163, 877 Anglo-Welsh (see Welsh English)

Arabic 511, 813, 920, 954, 965, 966 Perso-Arabic 764 Atlantic Creole 393, 499, 575, 578, 662, 667, 786 Australian Creoles 575, 656–670, 1095– 1096 Australian English [AusE] 569–571, 574– 577, 588, 602, 608, 611, 625–655, 659, 663–667, 676, 712, 785–786, 789–797, 801, 941, 1090–1093, 1114–1119, 1121, 1123–1125, 1127 Australian Vernacular English [AusVE] 577–578

B Baba Malay 1018 Bahamian English [BahE] 435–449, 490, 1077–1087, 1119–1120, 1123–1124 Bahasa Malaysia 1034–1036, 1039, 1045 Bajan [Barbadian Creole, Baj, BbdC] 254, 256, 393, 406, 484–485, 487–488, 498– 507, 1125 Balochi 1005 Bantu (see also Twi) 394, 877, 918, 926– 927, 943, 949–951, 964 Barbadian Creole (see Bajan) Bay Islands English 986 Bazaar Malay 1018 (see also Malay) Belfast English 30, 72, 87–90, 95, 130 Belizean Creole [BelC] 249, 254–255 Bengali 953, 1013, 1034–1035, 1107 Black Country English [Black Country dialect] 30, 134–138, 140–162 Black South African English [BlSAfE] 810–812, 935, 943–952, 1100–1109, 1119 British Creole [BrC, British Black English] 31–32, 231–243, 1063–1070, 1072, 1116, 1119–1121, 1123–1124, 1126

1162

Index of varieties and languages

British English [BrE] 28, 33, 128, 139, 203, 208, 211–212, 214, 219, 222–224, 230–235, 237, 239–240, 242, 248, 262, 268, 281, 351, 355, 358, 393, 443–444, 448, 450, 473, 479, 483, 518–519, 574, 577, 637, 751, 786, 780, 808, 811–812, 816–818, 824, 826, 828, 848–849, 855, 857–859, 861–863, 871, 892, 929–930, 940, 978, 980–981, 983, 991, 997, 999, 1002, 1022, 1037, 1058, 1070–1071, 1082, 1086, 1112, 1114–1115, 1119– 1120, 1125–1127 Butler English (India) [ButlE] 811–812

C Cajun English [CajE] 255, 407–416, 1076–1077, 1079–1088, 1118–1119, 1121, 1123–1124 California English 315, 347, 350, 431, 424, 1076–1077, 1114 Cameroon English [CamE] 810–811, 829, 885–900, 911, 917, 1100–1108, 1119, 1124–1125, 1127 Cameroon Pidgin [Cameroon Pidgin English, CamP, Kamtok] 810–811, 885, 887, 902–917, 1100–1106, 1108–1109, 1114 Canadian English [CanE] 68, 248, 254, 347, 351–365, 367, 370–371, 381, 794– 795, 1049, 1076–1088, 1117, 1121 Cantonese 50, 729, 731–733, 748, 1018, 1034 Cape Flats English [CFE] 808, 810, 812, 935, 964–984, 1099–1109, 1119, 1124 Caribbean English [CarE] (see also Eastern Caribbean English) 231, 233, 235, 249, 251, 394, 440, 448, 483, 485– 486, 497, 523, 525, 978, 991, 1114, 1116, 1120 Anglo-Caribbean English 494, 500 Caribbean English(-lexicon) Creole(s) [CEC, CarEC] 231–232, 503, 505, 510–513, 712 French-lexicon Creoles: 510–512 Celtic 28, 31, 48, 94–95, 98, 112, 156, 196, 567

Central American Creoles [CAmC] see Belize, Miskito Coast Creole Channel Islands English 204–216, 1067, 1069 Channel Islands French 209–214 Chicago English 298, 377, 421, 1086 Chicano English [ChcE] 254, 417–434, 1076–1084, 1119 Chinese Pidgin English [ChnP] 730, 739 Cincinnati English 341, 348–349 Cockney 122, 145, 148, 175, 185, 189– 191, 203, 209, 243, 440, 443–444, 486, 532–533, 548, 555–556, 775, 1068, 1119 Colloquial Singapore(an) English [CollSgE] 1017–1018, 1021, 1023– 1032 Cultivated Australian English 625, 636, 643

D Derry English 30, 76, 89–90, 95, 97 Detroit English 297–298, 362, 391–392 Dravidian languages 750, 810, 954–955, 960, 962, 993, 1003 Dublin English 75, 78, 82–86, 92–94 Dutch 35, 249, 283, 491–493, 499–500, 512, 527, 542, 580, 656, 817, 842, 844, 902–903, 931–932, 933, 964–965

E Early Modern English [EModE] 84, 86, 372, 530–531, 533, 535, 538, 540–542, 544–545, 642, 806 East African English [EAfE] 811, 918– 930, 1114, 1119–1120, 1126 East Anglia(n) English 25, 30, 32, 116– 117, 139, 163–177, 775–776, 1064–1071, 1073–1074, 1115, 1118–1119, 1121– 1122, 1124 Eastern Caribbean English(es)/Creoles 254, 481–500, 1077, 1083, 1086 Edinburgh English/Scots 47, 51–53, 57– 58, 61–62, 64, 66–67 Edoid 831, 838

Index of varieties and languages Emai 813 English as Foreign Language [EFL] 30, 805–806, 808, 847, 921 English as Native Language [ENL] 805, 810 English as Second Language [ESL] 50, 805–808, 810–811 English English [EngE] (see also East Anglian English, West Midlands English) 32, 45, 47–48, 58–61, 63–64, 106, 109, 173, 231, 233, 240–241, 978, 1049, 1116, 1120, 1125 northern 28–30, 32, 48, 68, 76, 103, 106, 113–133, 139–147, 149, 151–155, 157– 158, 178–179, 184, 195, 199, 222–223, 248, 1064–1065, 1073–1074 southeastern 25, 29, 32, 114, 139, 141, 147–148, 151–152, 159, 174–175, 178– 196, 200, 203, 217, 234, 237, 239–240, 1064–1069, 1073–1074, 1094, 1118 southwestern 25, 28, 30, 32, 69, 73, 98, 103, 106, 114, 118, 134–135, 139, 159, 178–182, 190, 195–202, 211, 248, 357, 366, 372, 377, 379–381, 394, 503, 511, 1064–1069, 1072–1073, 1115–1120, 1123, 1125 southern 25, 29–30, 32, 48, 59–61, 63–64, 69, 72, 78, 86, 88, 113–117, 121–123, 126, 132, 139, 144, 152, 162, 165–167, 169, 172, 175, 178–203, 209, 217, 222–224, 227, 230, 232, 1064– 1069, 1071–1073, 1082, 1115–1117, 1124–1125 English in Singapore and Malaysia [ESM] 806, 1019, 1023, 1032–1037, 1043, 1046, 1109, 1123 Estuary English 120, 128, 185–186, 202– 203, 775 European English 925

F Fante 845, 851–852, 858 Fiji English [FijE] 573, 575, 577, 750– 779, 1089, 1095–1096, 1115, 1120–1121, 1123 Fiji Hindi 511, 577, 750–779, 806, 953, 955, 957, 998, 1002–1003, 1013–1014

1163

Fijian 577–578, 750–759 Filipino [Pilipino] 738, 1047–1050, 1059 Filipino English (see Philippine English) First Language [L1] variety 99, 407, 515, 572, 577–578, 674, 714–715, 720–723, 731, 751–753, 767, 776–777, 805–807, 845, 848, 851, 854, 859–860, 862, 871, 918, 924, 931, 933–935, 937, 940, 943, 953, 955–957, 967, 968, 970–973, 975– 976, 978–980, 982–984, 999, 1004–1005, 1010, 1013–1014, 1036, 1040, 1089, 1096, 1099, 1114–1116 French 31, 48, 68, 145, 204–205, 207–215, 248, 249, 272, 301, 352–353, 367, 378, 407–409, 412–416, 492–493, 497–498, 508, 510–512, 516–517, 521, 525, 573, 600, 672–675, 677–682, 684, 686–688, 726, 813, 815, 828, 904–906, 937, 1072, 1097, 1124 French Creoles (see also Caribbean Frenchlexicon creoles) 249, 511, 516–517, 521

G Ga 845, 847, 850–851, 853, 860–861, 867, 871 Gaelic (see also Scottish Gaelic) 48, 69 German 354, 573, 596, 653, 672, 711–713, 817, 826 Germanic 28, 36, 98, 163, 212, 426, 574, 929 Ghanaian English [GhE] 808–809, 811, 842–866, 870–873, 1100–1109, 1123 Ghanaian Pidgin English [GhPE] 394, 811, 864, 866–873, 875, 883–884 Ghotuo 838 Glasgow English/Scots 30, 47, 50–55, 57–67, 142, 185, 1072, 1074 Gujarati 750, 922, 954–955, 1035 Gullah 248, 254, 383, 393–406, 436, 440, 442–443, 445, 449, 484, 489–490, 499, 506, 561, 990, 1077, 1079–1087, 1126 Gur 845, 860–861, 871 Guyanese Creole [GuyC] 254, 481, 487– 488, 498–500, 521, 526, 533, 748

1164

Index of varieties and languages

H Hausa 809, 813–814, 816, 822, 828, 832, 845, 847, 850, 854, 867–868, 871 Hausa English 816, 818–822, 824, 852 Hawai’i Creole [HawC, Hawai’i Pidgin] 573, 575, 578, 729–749, 1089, 1095– 1097, 1115, 1121 Hebrew 965–966 Hindi 511, 750–751, 764–767, 772–773, 778–779, 806, 953, 955, 957, 998, 1002– 1003, 1013–1014 Hokkien 1018, 1034

I Iban 1034–1035 Igbo (see also Akan) 809, 813, 816, 819– 820, 823, 828, 831–832 Igbo English 816–822 Indian English [IndE, Anglo-Indian] 766, 773, 809–810, 812, 954–955, 957, 959– 961, 992–1004, 1009, 1014, 1016, 1099– 1108, 1114, 1121–1125 Indian South African English [InSAfE] 806, 810, 812, 953–962, 1099–1108, 1116, 1126 Inland Northern American English [InlNE] 293–294, 357, 361–363, 1076–1082, 1084–1087 Insular Scots 37, 39, 43, 47 Irish [Irish Gaelic] 25–26, 30–31, 48, 59, 62, 64, 68–72, 74–76, 78–79, 81–82, 87, 89, 95–96, 139, 272, 367–381, 483, 495, 604–605, 1064, 1066, 1069, 1071–1072, 1116 Irish English [IrE] 29–31, 33, 64, 68–97, 209, 381, 495, 503, 795, 806, 966, 1071, 1074, 1116, 1120–1121, 1123–1126 Island Creole(s) [IslC] 232–234, 240, 786 Italian 352, 569, 652, 828

Jamaican English [JamE] 440, 450–480, 1076–1078, 1080–1085, 1087–1088, 1124 Japanese 573, 730–731, 733–734, 737– 739, 744, 746, 748, 1001

K Kamtok (see Cameroon Pidgin) Kannada 953 Konkani 954–955 Krio [Sierra Lione Krio] 526, 530, 545– 546, 551, 554, 810, 866, 882 Kriol 574–576, 578, 656, 658–662, 666– 669, 1089, 1095–1097 Kru 883 Kru Pidgin English [KPE, Kru English] 866, 875–876, 884 Kwa (see also Kongo, Wolof) 394, 845, 860–861 Kwinti 526

L L1 variety (see First Language variety) Latin 48, 68, 116, 920 Liberian English [LibE] 851, 884 Liberian Settler English [LibSE] 809–811, 851, 874–884, 1099, 1101–1108, 1117– 1119 Liberian Vernacular English [LibVE, Vernacular Liberian English, VLE] 874– 876, 881, 883 London Vernacular English [LonVE] 235, 238–242 Low Country English (US) 300–301, 308–313, 321, 323, 439–440

M J Jamaican Creole [JamC, Patwa] 32, 231– 243, 393, 449–481, 486–487, 490, 496, 498–499, 511, 523, 526, 530, 533, 545, 548, 561, 1076–1088, 1120–1122, 1126

Malay (see also Bahasa Malaysia, Bazaar Malay) 572, 657, 675, 806, 812, 965–966, 1018–1019, 1021, 1029, 1034–1035, 1042, 1107 Malayalam 750, 953, 1035

Index of varieties and languages Malaysian English [MalE] 810, 812, 1034–1046, 1099, 1101–1109, 1124 Mandarin 50, 1019–1021, 1034–1036 Mande 394, 845, 860, 883 Maori 569–570, 572–573, 576, 578, 580–581, 594, 597–599, 601, 603, 611, 614–624, 1095 Maori English [MaoE] 569, 575–576, 579, 601, 614–624, 1089–1091, 1093, 1095, 1123, 1126 Maori Pidgin English 573, 579 Maori Vernacular English [MVE] 615 Marathi English 993 Melanesian Pidgin 573–575, 578, 656, 672, 675, 688–691, 708–710, 714–715, 727–728, 730, 752–753, 783, 1095–1096 Michigan English 297–299, 361–362 Middle English [ME] 71–72, 78, 88, 114, 116–117, 121, 124, 134–135, 137, 141, 143–144, 147–148, 156, 158, 160, 162– 163, 166–167, 169–172, 178, 237, 312, 356, 362, 371, 530–533, 535, 538, 540, 544, 546–547, 548, 550–551, 792 Midwestern American English 250, 254, 262, 266, 283, 294–295, 308, 315, 330, 338–350, 354, 358, 419, 1077–1082, 1084–1087, 1115 Miskito Coast Creole 526, 530

N Ndjuka [Ndyuka] 526–544, 546–563, 1085, 1088 Neo-Melanesian (see Tok Pisin) Nevis English 240, 486 New England English [NEngE] 249, 252, 254, 262, 264–265, 270–284, 339, 343– 344, 353–354, 357, 362, 380, 1077–1088, 1115–1117, 1119–1121, 1125 New Guinea Pidgin (see Tok Pisin) New South Wales English 590, 647, 651– 654 New South Wales Pidgin 568, 657–658, 670–671, 690, 709–710 New York City English [NYCE] 282–290, 299, 1077–1082, 1084–1087, 1124–1125

1165

New Zealand English [NZE] 130, 164, 177, 447, 567–577, 579–622, 624, 642– 643, 645–646, 649, 651–652, 655, 750– 752, 775, 786–787, 789–790, 806, 810, 941, 1022, 1089–1095, 1114–1127 Newfoundland English [NfldE] 254, 352, 357, 360–361, 363, 366–382, 1076–1088, 1121, 1123–1124, 1126 Nigerian English [NigE] 809, 811–830, 835, 853–854, 1099, 1101–1109, 1116 Nigerian languages 813–816, 828, 831, 840, 851 Nigerian Pidgin [NigP] 806, 811, 814, 831–841, 1100–1105, 1108–1109, 1127 Norfolk English (England) 164, 166, 174– 175, 178, 182 Norfolk English (Australia) [Norfuk] 573– 575, 577, 780–801, 990, 1089–1090 Norman French 48, 68, 204, 207–215 Norn 35–38, 41, 44, 46 Northern English dialect (see English English) Nova Scotian (see African Nova Scotian) 990

O Oceanic 688, 708, 778–779 Old English [OE] 28, 47, 69, 78, 116, 132, 134, 141, 143–144, 146, 148, 151, 153, 156–160, 163, 176, 499 Old Norse 38, 156 Orkney English 25, 28, 30–31, 35–46, 1063–1074, 1114, 1116, 1119, 1122

P Pacific Pidgin 574, 579, 658, 689, 709– 711, 730, 1124 Pakistani English [PakE] 810, 812, 1003– 1015, 1099, 1101–1108, 1114, 1118, 1120–1121, 1123 Panjabi 922, 1004–1005, 1013, 1106 Pashtu 1005 Patwa [Patois] (see Jamaican Creole)

1166

Index of varieties and languages

Philadelphia English [PhilE] 282–284, 289–293, 296–297, 299, 341, 343, 348, 359, 649, 654, 1076–1079, 1081–1082, 1085–1087, 1125 Philippine English [PhlE] 1047–1059, 1099, 1101–1108, 1115, 1121, 1123, 1125 Pitcairn English [Pitkern] 573–575, 577, 780–802, 990 Pittsburgh English 284, 339, 342, 344, 347–348, 1081 Portuguese 352, 526, 564, 656, 674, 708, 710, 730–734, 738, 743, 748, 831, 842, 866, 902, 965, 985 Portuguese Pidgin 831, 903 Providencia Creole 256, 526 Pure Fiji English 577, 753–764, 766–774, 778 Pushto 1011, 1013

R Rama Cay Creole 779 Rasta Talk [Rastafari(an)] 232, 238 Received Pronunciation [RP] (see Index of subjects) Romance 929 Russian 965

S San Andrés Creole 256 Sanskrit 954, 1035 Saramaccan [Saramakka, Saamakka] 526– 544, 546–564, 1084–1085, 1088, 1123 Scandinavian 31–32, 35–39, 41–42, 44– 45, 48, 117, 339, 347 Scotch-Irish 272, 301, 347 Scots 30–31, 35–37, 39–41, 44, 46–69, 72, 76–78, 80, 88, 97, 117, 139, 301, 347, 378, 492, 494, 568, 794, 924, 1064, 1066–1069, 1072, 1117 Scottish English [ScE] 30–31, 35–37, 39– 41, 44, 46–69, 72, 76–78, 80, 88, 97, 117, 139, 248, 301, 347, 378, 492, 494, 568,

593, 600, 794, 924, 978, 1064, 1066– 1069, 1072–1073, 1117 Scottish Gaelic 50 Scottish Standard English [ScStE] 30, 47–64, 77, 1067 Sea Island Creole (see Gullah) Shetland English 25, 29–31, 35–46, 64, 1063–1073, 1114, 1116, 1119, 1122 Sindhi 955, 1003, 1005 Singapore English [SgE] 601, 619, 752, 810, 812, 1010, 1015, 1017–1023, 1030, 1032–1033, 1037, 1046, 1099–1106, 1108–1109, 1123, 1125 Siraiki 1005 Solomon Islands Pidgin [SolP, Solomon Islands Pijin, Pijin] 573, 575–576, 578, 672, 688, 690–712, 721, 729, 1089, 1095–1097 Sotho 965 South African English [SAfE] (see also Black / Indian / White South African English) 775, 933, 935, 942, 952, 954– 955, 967, 983–984, 1108 South Asian English [SAsE] 1000, 1003– 1004, 1011, 1013–1014, 1116, 1123 South Seas Jargon 573, 671, 674, 730 Southern American English [SAmE] 74, 263, 300–337, 409, 412, 440–441, 1076– 1088, 1114–1122, 1124–1125, 1128 Southern English dialect (see English English) Southeastern English dialect (see English English) Southwestern English dialect (see English English) Spanish 248, 302, 339, 408, 417–418, 420–422, 424–426, 429–433, 436, 447, 508, 516, 521, 828, 1047 Sranan 249, 393, 525–528, 530–544, 546– 564, 1086 St. Eustatius English 483, 486, 490–493, 495, 499 St. Helena English [StHE] 806, 812, 985–991, 1099–1104, 1106–1108, 1114, 1121, 1126 St. Kitts English/Creole 249, 483, 486, 492, 495–496, 499, 525, 782–783, 786

Index of varieties and languages St. Louis English 284, 297, 302, 339–340, 343–344, 348–349, 1084 Standard British English [StBrE] 450, 473, 479–780, 785, 808, 815–816, 835, 863, 929, 966, 987 Standard English [StE] 26, 30, 41, 47–48, 62, 114, 117, 132, 147–150, 163, 257, 278, 370, 376–377, 417, 429, 485, 503, 513–516, 518, 520–521, 524–525, 536, 541, 544, 547, 553, 555–556, 574, 623, 657, 660–661, 663–664, 666–668, 680, 720, 732, 735–736, 755–756, 758, 760– 761, 763, 767–768, 770–771, 773, 786, 788, 796, 807–808, 811, 863, 869, 878, 922, 924, 927, 929, 942–943, 966, 987, 1021, 1080, 1089, 1093, 1096–1097 non-standard English 32, 384, 520, 818, 657 sub-standard English 525 Standard Ghanaian English [StGhE] 867– 869, 871 Standard Jamaican English [StJamE] 235, 237–239, 241 Standard Philippine English 1048–1049, 1059 Suffolk English 164, 174, 178, 182, 240 Suriname Creole(s) [SurC] 249, 254, 484, 493, 498, 525–564, 953, 1076–1087, 1114, 1119–1122, 1124

T Tahitian 574, 674, 780–783, 785 Tamil 511, 750, 812, 953, 955, 960–962, 993, 995, 997, 1002, 1013, 1018–1019, 1021, 1034–1036, 1043, 1106–1107 Tanzanian English [TanE] 924 Telugu 750, 953, 955 Temiar 1034 Texas English 255, 308–312, 314, 317– 318, 321, 324, 332, 335, 337, 407, 419, 433 Tobagonian Creole [TobC] 508–516, 518–524, 1076–1078, 1080–1081, 1083– 1088, 1116, 1119, 1121–1122, 1124, 1126–1127

1167

Tok Pisin [New Guinea Pidgin, Neomelanesian, TP] 573–578, 672, 688, 690–691, 693, 710–728, 1089, 1095, 1097 Torres Strait Creole 575–576, 578, 643, 656, 658–662, 669–670 Trinidadian Creole [TrnC] 508–524, 1076, 1088, 1119, 1121–1122, 1124, 1126–1127 Turks and Caicos Islands English 484– 485, 488–491, 495, 499, 1077 Twi (see also Bantu) 844–845, 853–854, 864, 868

U Ulster English 59, 62, 68, 72–73, 76–81, 88, 94, 96–97 Ulster Scots 31, 68, 72, 76–78, 97, 301 Urdu 953, 955, 957, 1003–1006, 1009, 1011, 1013–1014, 1035 Utah English 339, 345, 349–350

W Welsh 30–31, 98–112, 521, 1072–1074, 1116 Welsh English [WelE] 29, 45, 68, 98–112, 139, 1072, 1074 West African English [WAfE] 500, 812, 849–851, 853, 861–862, 875, 928, 1118, 1125–1127 West African languages 390, 393, 443, 450, 502, 828–829, 850–851, 873 West African Pidgin (English) [WAfPE, WAP] 393, 805, 809, 811, 866, 902, 916–917, 1122 West Country English [Southwest English] 196–198, 200, 202, 372 West Indian English (see also Caribbean English Creoles) 234, 485, 500, 781 West Midlands English 25, 30–31, 74, 114, 134–162, 211, 232, 1064–1069, 1071, 1073, 1114, 1118, 1124–1125, 1130 Western American English 248, 254, 259–260, 264–265, 294, 297, 301, 310,

1168

Index of varieties and languages

330, 335, 338–350, 356–358, 362–363, 1077–1079, 1081–1082, 1084–1087, 1115, 1122, 1125 Western Caribbean English 253, 483–486, 488, 496 White South African English [WhSAfE] 811, 931–942, 1117–1118, 1124

Y Yiddish 965–966 Yoruba 511, 809, 813–814, 816, 823, 827–828, 838, 852 Yoruba English 816, 818–822, 828, 1107

Z X Xhosa 952, 965

Zulu 932, 953–955, 958, 965 Zulu 959–960, 969

Topics in English Linguistics Edited by Bernd Kortmann and Elizabeth Closs Traugott Mouton de Gruyter · Berlin · New York 1 Niels Davidsen-Nielsen, Tense and Mood in English. A Comparison with Danish. 1990. 2 Historical English Syntax. Edited by Dieter Kastovsky. 1991. 3 English Computer Corpora. Selected Papers and Research Guide. Edited by Stig Johansson and Anna-Brita Stenström. 1991. 4 Donka Minkova, The History of Final Vowels in English. The Sound of Muting. 1991. 5 Lia Korrel, Duration in English. A Basic Choice, Illustrated in Comparison with Dutch. 1991. 6 Andreas H. Jucker, Social Stylistics. Syntactic Variation in British Newspapers. 1992. 7 Ken-ichi Takami, Preposition Stranding. From Syntactic to Functional Analyses. 1992. 8 Bas Aarts, Small Clauses in English. The Nonverbal Types. 1992. 9 New Directions in English Language Corpora. Methodology, Results, Software Developments. Edited by Gerhard Leitner. 1992. 10 History of Englishes. New Methods and Interpretations in Historical Linguistics. Edited by Matti Rissanen, Ossi Ihalainen, Terttu Nevalainen and Irma Taavitsainen. 1992. 11 Early English in the Computer Age. Explorations through the Helsinki Corpus. Edited by Matti Rissanen, Merja Kytö and Minna Palander-Collin. 1993. 12 Towards a Standard English: 1600–1800. Edited by Dieter Stein and Ingrid Tieken-Boon van Ostade. 1993. 13 Studies in Early Modern English. Edited by Dieter Kastovsky. 1994. 14 Ronald Geluykens, The Pragmatics of Discourse Anaphora in English. Evidence from Conversational Repair. 1994. 15 Traute Ewers, The Origin of American Black English. Be-Forms in the HOODOO Texts. 1996. 16 Ilse Depraetere, The Tense System in English Relative Clauses. A CorpusBased Analysis. 1996. 17 Michiko Ogura, Verbs in Medieval English. Differences in Verb Choice in Verse and Prose. 1996. 18 Spanish Loanwords in the English Language. A Tendency towards Hegemony Reversal. Edited by Félix Rodríguez Gonzáles. 1996. 19 Laurel J. Brinton, Pragmatic Markers in English. Grammaticalization and Discourse Functions. 1996.

20 Christiane Dalton-Puffer, The French Influence on Middle English Morphology. A Corpus-Based Study on Derivation. 1996. 21 Johan Elsness, The Perfect and the Preterite in Contemporary and Earlier English. 1997. 22 Carl Bache and Niels Davidsen-Nielsen, Mastering English. An Advanced Grammar for Non-native and Native Speakers. 1997. 23 English in Transition. Corpus-based Studies in Linguistic Variation and Genre Styles. Edited by Matti Rissanen, Merja Kytö and Kirsi Heikkonen. 1997. 24 Grammaticalization at Work. Studies of Long-term Developments in English. Edited by Matti Rissanen, Merja Kytö and Kirsi Heikkonen. 1997. 25 Axel Hübler, The Expressivity of Grammar. Grammatical Devices Expressing Emotion across Time. 1998. 26 Negation in the History of English. Edited by Ingrid Tieken-Boon van Ostade, Gunnel Tottie and Wim van der Wurff. 1998. 27 Martina Häcker, Adverbial Clauses in Scots: A Semantic-Syntactic Study. 1998. 28 Ingo Plag, Morphological Productivity. Structural Constraints in English Derivation. 1999. 29 Gustav Muthmann, Reverse English Dictionary. Based on Phonological and Morphological Principles. 1999. 30 Metaphor and Metonymy at the Crossroads. A Cognitive Perspective. Edited by Antonio Barcelona. 2000. 31 Generative Theory and Corpus Studies. A Dialogue from 10 ICEHL. Edited by Ricardo Bermúdez-Otero, David Denison, Richard M. Hogg and C. B. McCully. 2000. 32 Manfred G. Krug, Emerging English Modals. A Corpus-Based Study of Grammaticalization. 2000. 33 Cause – Condition – Concession – Contrast. Cognitive and Discourse Perspectives. Edited by Elizabeth Couper-Kuhlen and Bernd Kortmann. 2000. 34 Hans-Jörg Schmid, English Abstract Nouns as Conceptual Shells. From Corpus to Cognition. 2000. 35 Placing Middle English in Context. Edited by Irma Taavitsainen, Terttu Nevalainen, Päivi Pahta and Matti Rissanen. 2000. 36 Michael G. Getty, The Metre of Beowulf. A Constraint-based Approach 2002. 37 Renaat Declerck and Susan Reed, Conditionals. A Comprehensive Empirical Analysis. 2001. 38 Alexander Kautzsch, The Historical Evolution of Earlier African American English. An Empirical Comparison of Early Sources. 2002. 39 Studies in the History of the English Language. A Millennial Perspective. Edited by Donka Minkova and Robert Stockwell. 2002. 40 Thomas Herbst, David Heath, Ian Roe and Dieter Götz, A Valency Dictionary of English. 2004.

42 Anette Rosenbach, Genitive Variation in English. Conceptual Factors in Synchronic and Diachronic Studies. 2002. 43 Determinants of Grammatical Variation in English. Edited by Günter Rohdenburg and Britta Mondorf. 2003. 44 Modality in Contemporary English. Edited by Roberta Facchinetti, Manfred Krug and Frank Palmer. 2003. 45 Studies in the History of the English Language II: Unfolding Conversations. Edited by Anne Curzan and Kimberly Emmons. 2004. 47 Ute Dons, Descriptive Adequacy of Early Modern English Grammars. 2004. 48 Raymond Hickey, A Sound Atlas of Irish English. 2004. 49 Verena Haser, Metaphor, Metonymy, and Experientialist Philosophy. Challenging Cognitive Semantics. 2005. 50 Bernd Kortmann, Tanja Hermann, Lukas Pietsch and Susanne Wagner, A Comparative Grammar of English Dialects: Agreement, Gender, Relative Clauses. 2005. 51 Alexander Bergs, Social Networks and Historical Sociolinguistics: Studies in Morphosyntactic Variation in the Paston Letters (1421–1503). 2005.

■ Atlas of North American English Phonetics, Phonology and Sound Change 2005. Combined edition book and CD-ROM. Approx. viii, 400 pages. Cloth. ISBN 3-11-016746-8 The phonological Atlas of North American English provides the first overall view of the pronunciation and vowel systems of the dialects of the U.S. and Canada. The Atlas redefines the regional dialects of American English and draws new boundaries reflecting the speech of the mid 1990s. The findings show a dramatic and increasing divergence of English dialects as vowels in different regions are rotated in opposite directions by the Northern Cities Shift, the Southern Shift, and the Canadian Shift, and other sweeping changes that are affecting the North American continent as a whole. The 26 chapters trace the influence of geographic and social factors by the multivariate analysis of population size, gender, age, occupation, and ethnicity. An accompanying CD-ROM provides the full database with 100,000 measurements, maps of individual vowel systems, and extended sound samples of all dialects.

W W W. M O U TO N - PU B LI S H E R S .CO M

William Labov, Sharon Ash, and Charles Boberg

A Handbook of Varieties of English 2: Morphology and Syntax

≥

A Handbook of Varieties of English A Multimedia Reference Tool Two volumes plus CD-ROM

Edited by

Bernd Kortmann and Edgar W. Schneider together with

Kate Burridge, Rajend Mesthrie, and Clive Upton

Mouton de Gruyter Berlin · New York

A Handbook of Varieties of English Volume 2: Morphology and Syntax

Edited by

Bernd Kortmann Kate Burridge Rajend Mesthrie Edgar W. Schneider Clive Upton

Mouton de Gruyter Berlin · New York

Mouton de Gruyter (formerly Mouton, The Hague) is a Division of Walter de Gruyter GmbH & Co. KG, Berlin.

앝 Printed on acid-free paper which falls within the guidelines 앪 of the ANSI to ensure permanence and durability.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A handbook of varieties of English : a multimedia reference tool. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 3-11-017532-0 (set of two hardcovers plus CD-ROM : alk. paper) 1. English language ⫺ Variation ⫺ Handbooks, manuals, etc. 2. English language ⫺ Dialects ⫺ Handbooks, manuals, etc. I. Kortmann, Bernd, 1960⫺ II. Schneider, Edgar W. (Edgar Werner), 1954⫺ PE1711.H36 2004 427⫺dc22 2004025131

Bibliographic information published by Die Deutsche Bibliothek Die Deutsche Bibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data is available in the Internet at ⬍http://dnb.ddb.de⬎.

ISBN 3-11-017532-0 ” Copyright 2004 by Walter de Gruyter GmbH & Co. KG, 10785 Berlin All rights reserved, including those of translation into foreign languages. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Cover design: raumfisch.de/sign, Berlin. Typesetting: medionet AG, Berlin. Printing and binding: Kösel GmbH & Co. KG, Altusried. Printed in Germany.

Contents of volume 2 Contents of volume 1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

x

Abbreviations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

xv

General introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bernd Kortmann and Edgar W. Schneider

1

General references . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

10

The British Isles Bernd Kortmann and Clive Upton (eds.) Introduction: varieties of English in the British Isles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bernd Kortmann and Clive Upton

25

English spoken in Orkney and Shetland: morphology, syntax and lexicon . Gunnel Melchers

34

Scottish English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jim Miller

47

Irish English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Markku Filppula

73

Welsh English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Robert Penhallurick

102

English dialects in the North of England: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . Joan Beal

114

The dialect of East Anglia: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Trudgill

142

English dialects in the Southwest: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . Susanne Wagner

154

The varieties of English spoken in the Southeast of England: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Lieselotte Anderwald British Creole: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mark Sebba

175 196

vi

Contents of volume 2

The Americas and the Caribbean Edgar W. Schneider (ed.) Introduction: varieties of English in the Americas and the Caribbean . . . . Edgar W. Schneider

211

Colloquial American English: grammatical features . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Thomas E. Murray and Beth Lee Simon

221

Appalachian English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Michael B. Montgomery

245

Rural and ethnic varieties in the Southeast: morphology and syntax . . . . . Walt Wolfram

281

Newfoundland English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sandra Clarke

303

Urban African American Vernacular English: morphology and syntax . . . . Walt Wolfram

319

Earlier African American English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . Alexander Kautzsch

341

Gullah: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Salikoko S. Mufwene

356

Chicano English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Robert Bayley and Otto Santa Ana

374

Bahamian English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jeffrey Reaser and Benjamin Torbert

391

Jamaican Creole: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter L. Patrick

407

Eastern Caribbean English-derived language varieties: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Michael Aceto

439

The creoles of Trinidad and Tobago: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . Winford James and Valerie Youssef

454

Surinamese creoles: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Donald Winford and Bettina Migge

482

Belize and other central American varieties: morphology and syntax . . . . Geneviève Escure

517

Contents of volume 2

vii

The Pacific and Australasia Kate Burridge and Bernd Kortmann (eds.) Introduction: varieties of English in the Pacific and Australasia . . . . . . . . . Kate Burridge and Bernd Kortmann

547

New Zealand English: morphosyntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Marianne Hundt, Jennifer Hay and Elizabeth Gordon

560

Australian English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Collins and Pam Peters

593

Australian Vernacular English: some grammatical characteristics . . . . . . . . Andrew Pawley

611

Hypocoristics in Australian English . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jane Simpson

643

Australian creoles and Aboriginal English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . Ian G. Malcolm

657

Bislama: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Terry Crowley

682

Solomon Islands English: morphology and syntax. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Christine Jourdan

702

Tok Pisin: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Geoff Smith

720

Hawai’i Creole: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Kent Sakoda and Jeff Siegel

742

Fiji English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . France Mugler and Jan Tent

770

Norfolk Island-Pitcairn English (Pitkern Norfolk): morphology and syntax Peter Mühlhäusler

789

Africa, South and Southeast Asia Rajend Mesthrie (ed.) Introduction: varieties of English in Africa and South and Southeast Asia Rajend Mesthrie

805

Nigerian English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . M.A. Alo and Rajend Mesthrie

813

Nigerian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Nicholas Faraclas

828

viii

Contents of volume 2

Ghanaian English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Magnus Huber and Kari Dako

854

Ghanaian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Magnus Huber

866

Liberian Settler English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . John Victor Singler

879

Cameroon English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Paul Mbangwana

898

Cameroon Pidgin English (Kamtok): morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . Miriam Ayafor

909

East African English (Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania): morphology and syntax. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Josef Schmied

929

White South African English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sean Bowerman

948

Black South African English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rajend Mesthrie

962

Indian South African English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rajend Mesthrie

974

Cape Flats English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Kay McCormick

993

St. Helena English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1006 Sheila Wilson and Rajend Mesthrie Indian English: syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1016 Rakesh M. Bhatt Butler English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1031 Priya Hosali Pakistani English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1045 Ahmar Mahboob Singapore English: morphology and syntax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1058 Lionel Wee Malaysian English: morphology and syntax. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1073 Loga Baskaran

Contents of volume 2

ix

Synopses The editors Synopsis: morphological and syntactic variation in the British Isles . . . . . . 1089 Bernd Kortmann Synopsis: morphological and syntactic variation in the Americas and the Caribbean . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1104 Edgar W. Schneider Synopsis: morphological and syntactic variation in the Pacific and Australasia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1116 Kate Burridge Synopsis: morphological and syntactic variation in Africa and South and Southeast Asia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1132 Rajend Mesthrie Global synopsis: morphological and syntactic variation in English . . . . . . 1142 Bernd Kortmann and Benedikt Szmrecsanyi

Index of subjects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1203 Index of varieties and languages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1220

Contents of volume 1 Contents of volume 2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

x

Abbreviations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

xv

General introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bernd Kortmann and Edgar W. Schneider

1

General references . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

10

The British Isles Bernd Kortmann and Clive Upton (eds.) Introduction: varieties of English in the British Isles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bernd Kortmann and Clive Upton

25

English spoken in Orkney and Shetland: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Gunnel Melchers

35

Scottish English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jane Stuart-Smith

47

Irish English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Raymond Hickey

68

Welsh English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Robert Penhallurick

98

English dialects in the North of England: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Joan Beal

113

The English West Midlands: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Urszula Clark

134

The dialect of East Anglia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Trudgill

163

The dialects in the South of England: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ulrike Altendorf and Dominic Watt

178

Channel Island English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Heinrich Ramisch

204

Received Pronunciation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Clive Upton

217

British Creole: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter L. Patrick

231

Contents of volume 1

xi

The Americas and the Caribbean Edgar W. Schneider (ed.) Introduction: varieties of English in the Americas and the Caribbean . . . . . Edgar W. Schneider

247

Standard American English pronunciation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . William A. Kretzschmar, Jr.

257

New England: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Naomi Nagy and Julie Roberts

270

New York, Philadelphia, and other northern cities: phonology . . . . . . . . . . Matthew J. Gordon

282

Rural Southern white accents . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Erik R. Thomas

300

The urban South: phonology. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jan Tillery and Guy Bailey

325

The West and Midwest: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Matthew J. Gordon

338

English in Canada: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Charles Boberg

351

Newfoundland English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sandra Clarke

366

African American Vernacular English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Walter F. Edwards

383

Gullah: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Tracey L. Weldon

393

Cajun Vernacular English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sylvie Dubois and Barbara M. Horvath

407

Chicano English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Otto Santa Ana and Robert Bayley

417

Bahamian English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Becky Childs and Walt Wolfram

435

Jamaican Creole and Jamaican English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Hubert Devonish and Otelemate G. Harry

450

Eastern Caribbean English-derived language varieties: phonology . . . . . . Michael Aceto

481

xii

Contents of volume 1

Bajan: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Renée Blake

501

The creoles of Trinidad and Tobago: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Valerie Youssef and Winford James

508

Suriname creoles: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Norval Smith and Vinije Haabo

525

The Pacific and Australasia Kate Burridge and Bernd Kortmann (eds.) Introduction: varieties of English in the Pacific and Australasia . . . . . . . . . Kate Burridge and Bernd Kortmann

567

New Zealand English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Laurie Bauer and Paul Warren

580

Regional and social differences in New Zealand: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . Elizabeth Gordon and Margaret Maclagan

603

Maori English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Paul Warren and Laurie Bauer

614

Australian English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Barbara M. Horvath

625

Regional characteristics of Australian English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . David Bradley

645

Australian creoles and Aboriginal English: phonetics and phonology . . . . . Ian G. Malcolm

656

Bislama: phonetics and phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Terry Crowley

671

Solomon Islands Pijin: phonetics and phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Christine Jourdan and Rachel Selbach

690

Tok Pisin in Papua New Guinea: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Geoff P. Smith

710

Hawai‘i Creole: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Kent Sakoda and Jeff Siegel

729

Fiji English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jan Tent and France Mugler

750

Norfolk Island-Pitcairn English: phonetics and phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . John Ingram and Peter Mühlhäusler

780

Contents of volume 1

xiii

Africa, South and Southeast Asia Rajend Mesthrie (ed.) Introduction: varieties of English in Africa and South and Southeast Asia Rajend Mesthrie

805

Nigerian English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ulrike B. Gut

813

Nigerian Pidgin English: phonology. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ben Elugbe

831

Ghanaian English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Magnus Huber

842

Ghanaian Pidgin English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Magnus Huber

866

Liberian Settler English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . John Victor Singler

874

Cameroon English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Augustin Simo Bobda

885

Cameroon Pidgin English (Kamtok): phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Thaddeus Menang

902

East African English (Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania): phonology . . . . . . . . . . . Josef Schmied

918

White South African English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sean Bowerman

931

Black South African English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bertus van Rooy

943

Indian South African English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rajend Mesthrie

953

Cape Flats English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Finn

964

St. Helena English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sheila Wilson

985

Indian English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ravinder Gargesh

992

Pakistani English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1003 Ahmar Mahboob and Nadra Huma Ahmar

xiv

Contents of volume 1

Singapore English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1017 Lionel Wee Malaysian English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1034 Loga Baskaran Philippine English: phonology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1047 Ma. Lourdes G. Tayao

Synopses The editors Synopsis: phonological variation in the British Isles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1063 Clive Upton Synopsis: phonological variation in the Americas and the Caribbean . . . . . 1075 Edgar W. Schneider Synopsis: phonetics and phonology of English spoken in the Pacific and Australasian region . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1089 Kate Burridge Synopsis: the phonology of English in Africa and South and Southeast Asia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1099 Rajend Mesthrie Global synopsis: phonetic and phonological variation in English world-wide . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1111 Edgar W. Schneider

Index of subjects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1139 Index of varieties and languages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1161

Abbreviations AAVE AbE/C/P AfBahE AfkE AmE AnBahE AppE AusE/VE/C BahE Baj BelC BIE BrC BrE ButlE CajE CAmC CamP/E CanE CarE Car(E)C CFE ChcE ChnP CollAmE CollSgE EAfE EMarC EngE EModE ME OE ESM FijE GhE/P GuyC HawC HKE IndE

African American Vernacular English (Australian) Aboriginal English / Creole / Pidgin Afro-Bahamian English Afrikaans English American English Anglo-Bahamian English Appalachian English Australian English/Vernacular English/Creoles Bahamian English Bajan (Barbadian Creole) Belizean Creole Bay Islands English (Honduras) British Creole British English (= EngE + ScE + WelE) Butler English (India) Cajun English Central American Creoles (Belize, Miskito, Limón, etc.) Cameroon Pidgin/English Canadian English Caribbean English Carribean (English-lexicon) Creoles Cape Flats English Chicano English Chinese Pidgin English Colloquial American English Colloquial Singapore English East African English Eastern Maroon Creole English English Early Modern English Middle English Old English English in Singapore and Malaysia Fiji English Ghanaian English/Pidgin Guyanese Creole Hawaii Creole Hong Kong English Indian English, Anglo-Indian

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Abbreviations

InlNE IrE JamC/E KenE KPE LibC/E LibSE LibVE LimC LonVE LnkE MalE NEngE NfldE NigP/E NZE NYCE OzE PakE PanC PhilE PhlE RP SAfE BlSAfE CoSAfE InSAfE WhSAfE SAmE SAsE SEAmE ScE ScStE SgE SLVE SolP StAmE StAusCE StAusFE StBrE StE StGhE

Inland Northern (American) English Irish English Jamaican Creole / English Kenyan English Kru Pidgin English Liberian Creole/English Liberian Settler English Liberian Vernacular English Limonese Creole (Costa Rica) London Vernacular English Lankan English Malaysian English New England English Newfoundland English Nigerian Pidgin / English New Zealand English New York City English Ozarks English Pakistani English Panamanian Creole Philadelphia English Philippines English Received Pronunciation South African English Black South African English Coloured South African English Indian South African English White South African English Southern American English South Asian English South Eastern American English enclave dialects Scottish English, Scots Scottish Standard English Singapore English St. Lucian Vernacular English Solomon Islands Pidgin Standard American English Standard Australian Colloquial English Standard Australian Formal English Standard British English Standard English Standard Ghanaian English

Abbreviations

StHE StIndE StJamE SurC TanE TobC Trad-RP TrnC T & TC TP WAfE/P WelE WMwE ZamE

St. Helena English Standard Indian English Standard Jamaican English Suriname Creoles Tanzanian English Tobagonian Creole Traditional Received Pronunciation Trinidadian Creole Trinidadian & mesolectal Tobagonian Creoles Tok Pisin, New Guinea Pidgin, Neomelanesian West African English/Pidgin Welsh English Western and Midwestern American English Zambian English

More abbreviations ESL EFL EIL ENL L1 L2 P/C

English as Second Language English as Foreign Language English as International Language English as Native Language First Language Second Language Pidgins and Creoles

xvii

General introduction Bernd Kortmann and Edgar W. Schneider

The all-important design feature of this Handbook is its focus on structure and on the solid description and documentation of data. The two volumes, accompanied by the CD-ROM, provide comprehensive up-to-date accounts of the salient phonological and grammatical properties of the varieties of English around the world. Reliable structural information in a somewhat standardized format and presented in an accessible way is a necessary prerequisite for any kind of study of language varieties, independent of the theoretical framework used for analysis. It is especially important for comparative studies of the phonological and morphosyntactic patterns across varieties of English, and the inclusion of this kind of data in typological studies (e.g. in the spirit of Kortmann 2004). Of course, all of this structural information can be and has to be put in perspective by the conditions of uses of these varieties, i.e. their sociohistorical backgrounds, their current sociolinguistic settings (not infrequently in multilingual societies), and their associated political dimensions (like issues of norm-setting, language policies and pedagogical applications). Ultimately, all of the varieties under discussion in these Handbooks, certainly so the ones spoken outside of England, but in a sense, looking way back in time, even the English dialects themselves, are products of colonization processes, predominantly the European colonial expansion in the modern age. A number of highly interesting questions, linguistically and culturally, might be asked in this context, including the central issue of why all of this has happened and whether there is an underlying scheme that has continued to drive and motivate the evolution of new varieties of English (Schneider 2003). These linguistic and sociohistorical background issues will be briefly addressed in the introductions of the four regional parts and in some of the individual chapters, but it should be made clear that it is the issue of structural description and comparison which is at the heart of this project. Accordingly, in this General Introduction we focus upon the organization of the Handbook and the information to be culled from it. This Handbook is geared towards documenting and mapping the structural variation among (spontaneously spoken) non-standard varieties of English. Standard English is of course that variety, or set of closely related varieties, which enjoys the highest social prestige. It serves as a reference system and target norm in formal situations, in the language used by people taking on a public persona (including, for example, anchorpersons in the news media), and as a model in the teaching of English worldwide. Here, however, it is treated as is commonplace in modern

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descriptive linguistics, i.e. as a variety on a par with all other (regional, social, ethnic, or contact) varieties of English. Clearly, in terms of its structural properties it is not inherently superior to any of the non-standard varieties. Besides, the very notion of “Standard English” itself obviously refers to an abstraction. On the written level, it is under discussion to what extent a “common core” or a putatively homogeneous variety called “International English” actually exists: there is some degree of uniformity across the major national varieties, but once one looks into details of expression and preferences, there are also considerable differences. On the spoken level, there are reference accents like, for example, Received Pronunciation for British English, but their definition also builds upon abstractions from real individuals’ performance. Thus, in this Handbook especially the grammar of (written) Standard English figures as no more than an implicit standard of comparison, in the sense that all chapters focus upon those phenomena in a given variety which are (more or less strikingly) different from this standard (these being perceived as not, note again, in any sense deficient or inferior to it). In light of the wealth of publications and comprehensive grammars on Standard English, there are no survey chapters on, for example, Standard British or American English in this Handbook. For the reference accents of British and American English chapters have been included.

1.

Coverage

The Handbook covers some 60 (sets of) varieties, including main national standard varieties, distinctive regional, ethnic, and social varieties, major contact varieties (pidgins and creoles), as well as major English as a Second Language varieties in the British Isles (edited by Bernd Kortmann and Clive Upton), the Americas and the Caribbean (edited by Edgar W. Schneider), the Pacific and Australasia (edited by Kate Burridge and Bernd Kortmann), and Africa, South and Southeast Asia (edited by Raj Mesthrie). The inclusion of second-language varieties (e.g. English in India, Singapore, Ghana, Nigeria) and, especially, English-based pidgins and creoles, which add up to more than half of all varieties covered in this Handbook, may come as a surprise to some readers. Normally these varieties are addressed from different perspectives (such as, for example, language policy, language pedagogy, linguistic attitudes, language and identity (construction), substrate vs. superstrate influence), each standing in its own research tradition. Here they are primarily discussed from the point of view of their structural properties. This will make possible comparisons with structural properties of, for example, other varieties of English spoken in the same region, or second-language or contact varieties in other parts of the English-speaking world. At the same time the availability of solid structural descriptions may open new perspectives for a fruitful interaction

General introduction

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between the different research traditions within which second-language and contact varieties are studied. The boundaries of what is considered and accepted as “varieties of English” and thus included in the Handbooks has been drawn fairly widely, to include English-based pidgins and creoles which at first sight look quite different from what many English-speaking people may have been exposed to. Pidgins are makeshift contact varieties used in communication between people who share no other tongue. Creoles, according to the classic definition, emerge when pidgins become a new generation’s native language. Pidgins are usually described as structurally reduced, while creoles are structurally complex and fulfill all communicative requirements by human speakers, but in practice the distinction between both language types is anything but clearcut, as some of the contributions in the Handbook illustrate. Traditionally, creoles have been regarded as distinct languages of their own, but linguists agree that the line between what constitutes a separate language as against a dialect of a language is usually drawn on political and social grounds rather than because of structural properties. In accepting English-oriented pidgins and creoles in the present context, we adopt a trend of recent research to consider them as contact varieties closely related to, possibly to be categorized as varieties of, their respective superstrate languages (e.g. Mufwene 2001). Creoles, and also some pidgins, in many regions vary along a continuum from acrolectal forms, relatively close to English and used by the higher sociolinguistic strata in formal contexts, to basilects, “deep” varieties maximally different from English. Most of our contributions focus upon the mesolects, the middle ranges which in most creole-speaking societies are used most widely. For other varieties, too, it may be asked why or why not they have been selected for inclusion in this Handbook. Among the considerations that led to the present selection, the following figured most prominently: amount and quality of existing data and research documentation for the individual varieties, intensity of ongoing research activities, availability of authors, and space constraints (leading, for example, to the exclusion of strictly local accents and dialects). More information on the selection of varieties will be given in the regional introductions by the editors.

2.

Organization of the Handbook

The overall organization of the Handbook is very simple: one volume each for phonology and grammar (i.e. morphology and syntax), with each of the volumes falling into four parts according to region or rather continent(s). The major world regions relevant for the discussion of varieties of English are the following: the British Isles, the Americas, the Caribbean, Africa, (South and Southeast) Asia, Australasia and the Pacific (or Oceania). These world regions have been lumped together into the four parts spelt out in section 1, according to criteria such as

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number of relevant varieties, their (present and/or past) relatedness, availability of documentation and of researchers into the specific issues under discussion, and the expertise of the individual volume editors. Following the general introduction, each volume opens with a list of general reference works, all of them exclusively book publications, relevant across the world regions covered in the Handbook and for individual world regions. Within the two volumes, each of the four regional parts opens with an introduction by the responsible editor(s) which puts in perspective the varieties spoken in the relevant world region(s) and provides a brief guide to the chapters written on them. These regional introductions include accounts of the histories, the cultural and sociolinguistic situations, and the most important data sources for the relevant locations, ethnic groups and varieties. Further issues addressed may include a survey of current research, but also the discussion of such notoriously problematic notions as dialect boundaries, dialect areas, or traditional as opposed to modern dialects, and the problem of treating pidgins and creoles as varieties of English. Following the regional parts, each of the volumes concludes with a fifth part in which the reader will find two types of synopses: four regional synopses and a general synopsis. In the former, the editors will summarize the most striking properties of the sets of varieties of English spoken in the individual world regions and, within them, of selected cross-sections of varieties (e.g. contact varieties). Each volume will close with a general synopsis (authored by Edgar W. Schneider for the phonology volume, and Bernd Kortmann and Benedikt Szmrecsanyi for the morphology and syntax volume) on the most noteworthy findings and tendencies on phonological and morphosyntactic variation in English from a global perspective. What will emerge from the synopses is that many of the features described for individual varieties or sets of varieties in this Handbook are not unique to these (sets of) varieties. This is true both for morphology and syntax and for phonology. As a matter of fact, quite a number of morphosyntactic features described as salient properties of individual varieties may strike the reader as typical of other varieties, too, possibly even of the grammar of spoken English in general. In a similar vein, it turns out that certain phonological processes (like the monophthongization of certain diphthongs, the fronting, backing or merging of some vowels, and some consonantal substitutions or suprasegmental processes) can be documented in quite a number of fairly disparate language varieties – not surprisingly, perhaps, given shared underlying principles like constraints of articulatory space or tendencies towards simplification and the reduction of contrasts. It seems possible to distinguish three broad groups of non-standard features according to their distribution across varieties of English: Group I: by far widest distribution on a global scale Group II: foundrelativelyfrequentlyinoneormorepartsoftheEnglish speakingworld

General introduction

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Group III: restricted to relatively few non-standard varieties of English (possibly only one variety) As it turns out, only very few of the formal variants belong to Group III. The distributions of selected individual features, both morphosyntactic and phonological, across varieties world-wide will be visualized by the interactive world maps on the accompanying CD-ROM (see also section 4 below). On these maps, each of the selected features, for almost all of the varieties under discussion, is categorized as occurring regularly (marked as “A” and colour-coded in red), occasionally or only in certain specified environments (marked as “B” and represented by a pink circle) or practically not at all (“C”, grey). These innovative maps, which are accompanied by statistical distribution data on the spread of selected variants, will provide the reader with an immediate visual representation of regional distribution and diffusion patterns. It should be noted that, not surprisingly, it has turned out to be impossible to obtain accurate documentation on the presence or absence of each and every feature in each one of the varieties, so category “C” also includes those cases, for example, where no positive evidence as to the presence of a given feature has been provided, though the positive non-existence of anything seems impossible to prove. Also, any such categorization by necessity enforces problematic distinctions at times, so that finely-graded distinctions and conditions cannot be represented appropriately. For a summary presentation and discussion of the major results of these comparisons the reader is referred to the regional and the global synopses.

3.

Nature and structure of the contributions

The chapters are descriptive survey articles providing state-of-the-art reports on major issues in current research, with a common core in order to make the Handbook an interesting and useful tool especially from a comparative, i.e. cross-dialectal and cross-linguistic, point of view. All chapters aim primarily at a qualitative rather than quantitative perspective, i.e. whether or not a given feature occurs is more important than its frequency. Of course, for varieties where research has focused upon documenting frequency relationships between variants of variables, some information on relevant quantitative tendencies has been provided. Depending upon the research coverage in a given world region (which varies widely from one continent to another), some contributions build upon existing sociolinguistic, dialectological, or structural research, and a small number of other chapters makes systematic use of available computerized corpora. In some cases and for some regions the chapters in this Handbook provide the first-ever systematic qualitative survey of the phonological and grammatical properties of English as spoken there.

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For almost all varieties of English covered there are companion chapters in the phonology and morphosyntax volumes. In these cases it is in the phonology chapter that the reader will find a concise introductory section on the historical and cultural background as well as the current sociolinguistic situation of the relevant variety or set of varieties spoken at this location. In order to ensure a certain degree of comparability, the authors were given a set of core issues that they were asked to address (provided something interesting can be said about them in the respective variety). For the phonology chapters, this set included the following items: – phonological systems – phonetic realization(s) and (phonotactic) distributions of a selection of phonemes (to be selected according to salience in the variety in question) – specific phonological processes at work in the relevant variety – lexical distribution – prosodic features (stress, rhythm) – intonation patterns – observations/generalizations on the basis of lexical sets à la Wells (1982) and Foulkes/Docherty (1999), a standard reading passage and/or samples of free conversation (cf. also section 5 on the content of the CD-ROM below). It is worth noting that for some of the contributions, notably the chapters on pidgins and creoles, the lexical sets were not sufficient or suitable to describe the variability found. In such cases authors were encouraged to expand the set of target words, or replace one of the items. The reading passage was also adjusted or substituted by some authors, for instance because it was felt to be culturally inappropriate. This is the corresponding set for the morphology and syntax chapters: – – – – – – – – – –

tense – aspect – modality systems auxiliaries negation relativization complementation other subordination phenomena (notably adverbial subordination) agreement noun phrase structure pronominal systems word order (and information structure: especially focus/topicalizing constructions) – selected salient features of the morphological paradigms of, for example, auxiliaries and pronouns. Lexical variation was not our primary concern, given that it fails to lend itself to the systematic generalization and comparability we are aiming for in this Hand-

General introduction

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book. However, authors were offered the opportunity to comment on highly salient features of the vocabulary of any given variety (briefly and within the overall space constraints) if this was considered rewarding. The reader may find such information on distinctive properties of the respective vocabularies in the morphology and syntax chapters. In the interest of combining guidance for readers, efficiency, space constraints, but also the goal of comprehensiveness, bibliographic references are systematically divided between three different types of reference lists. As was stated above, this introduction is accompanied by a list of “General References” which compiles a relatively large number of books which, taken together, are central to the field of world-wide varieties of English – “classic” publications, collective volumes, particularly important publications, and so on. It is understood that in the individual contributions all authors may refer to titles from this list without these being repeated in their respective source lists. Each of the individual chapters ends with a list of “Selected References” comprising, on average, only 15–20 references – including the most pertinent ones on the respective variety (or closely related varieties) beyond any others possibly included in the General References list, and possibly others cited in the respective article. In other words, the Selected References do not repeat any of the General References given at the very beginning of both Handbook volumes. Thirdly, a “Comprehensive Bibliography”, with further publications specifically on the phonology and morphosyntax of each of the varieties covered in the Handbook, for which no space limitations were imposed, is available on the CD-ROM. The idea behind this limitation of the number of references allowed to go with each article was to free the texts of too much technical apparatus and thus to increase their reader-friendliness for a target audience of non-specialists while at the same time combining basic guidance to the most important literature (in the General References list) with the possibility of providing comprehensive coverage of the writings available on any given region (in the Bibliographies on the CD-ROM). It must be noted, however, that at times this rule imposed limitations upon possible source credits allowed in the discussions, because to make the books self-contained authors were allowed to refer to titles from the General and the Select References lists only. In other words, it is possible that articles touch upon material drawn from publications listed in the CD-ROM bibliographies without explicit credit, although every effort has been made to avoid this.

4.

The CD-ROM

The two volumes of the Handbook are accompanied by a CD-ROM providing illustrative, additional and incidental material. Most importantly, given that in their natural setting language varieties are spoken and heard rather than described in

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writing but that such oral material is hardly ever available, the CD contains audio samples, new sound material for each variety that, depending upon availability, may comprise (partly) phonemically transcribed samples of free conversation, a standard reading passage, and recordings of the spoken “lexical sets” which define and illustrate vocalic variation (Wells 1982). Another highly innovative feature of the CD is the vivid and in parts interactive graphic illustration of the variability discussed in the books. The user is provided with representations of regional vowel charts and with interactive maps showing the geographical distribution of individual phonological and grammatical features and, on a global scale, their degree of pervasiveness across the varieties of English. The CD-ROM also includes the “Comprehensive Bibliographies” for the individual chapters mentioned above. For individual varieties, users will find phonetic analyses of sounds and intonation patterns as well as further incidental material considered relevant by the author.

5.

Acknowledgements

A publication project as huge as this one would have been impossible, indeed impossible even to think of, without the support of a great number of people devoted to their profession and to the subject of this Handbook. First among these, the editors would like thank the members of their editorial teams: in Freiburg, these are Melitta Cocan, Cosima Diehl, Cara Heinzmann, Isabella Risorgi, Anna Rosen, Susanne Wagner, Veronika Westhoff and, above all, Monika Schulz; in Regensburg, Regina Trüb and Petra Orendi; in Cape Town, Sarah Johnson and Rowan Mentis. The editors are also much indebted to Elizabeth Traugott, for all the thought she gave to this project right from the very beginning of the planning stage and her extremely helpful feedback on draft versions of chapters, introductions and synopses. Without Jürgen Handke, the rich audio-visual multimedia support of the chapters in the Handbook would have been impossible to conceive of. Furthermore, we have always benefitted from the support and interest invested into this project by Anke Beck and the people at Mouton de Gruyter. Finally, and most importantly, of course, the editors would like to thank the contributors and informants for having conformed to the rigid guidelines, deadlines and time frames that we set them for the various stages of (re)writing their chapters and providing the input material for the CD-ROM and, in the final stages of the editing process, for not having tired of answering last-minute questions. This Handbook truly represents an impressive product of scholarly collaboration of people from all around the globe. Right until the end it has been an exciting and wonderful experience for the editors (as well as, we would like to think, for the authors) to bring all these scholars and their work together, and we believe that this shows in the quality of the chapters and the material presented on the CD-ROM. May this Handbook be enjoyed, appreciated and esteemed by its read-

General introduction

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ers, and treasured as the reference work and research tool it was designed as for anyone interested in and concerned with variation in English!

References Kortmann, Bernd (ed.) 2004 Dialectology meets Typology: Dialect Grammar from a Cross-Linguistic Perspective. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Mufwene, Salikoko S. 2001 The Ecology of Language Evolution. (Cambridge Approaches to Language Contact.) Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Schneider, Edgar W. 2003 The dynamics of New Englishes: From identity construction to dialect birth. Language 79: 233–281.

General references The following is a list of general reference works relevant across the world regions covered in the Handbook and for individual of these world regions. The list consists exclusively of book publications. Those monographs, dictionaries and collective volumes in the list which are referred to in the chapters of the Handbook will not be separately listed in the selected references at the end of the individual chapters. Aceto, Michael and Jeffrey Williams (eds.) 2003 Contact Englishes of the Eastern Caribbean. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 30.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Aitken, Jack and Tom McArthur (eds.) 1979 The Languages of Scotland. Edinburgh: Chambers. Algeo, John (ed.) 2001 The Cambridge History of the English Language, Volume VI: English in North America. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Allen, Harold B. 1973 –1976 Linguistic Atlas of the Upper Midwest. 3 Volumes. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Allen, Harold B. and Gary Underwood (eds.) 1971 Readings in American Dialectology. New York: Appleton-Century Crofts. Allen, Harold B. and Michael D. Linn (eds.) 1997 Dialects and Language Variation. New York: Academic Press. Alleyne, Mervyn C. 1980 Comparative Afro-American: An Historical-Comparative Study of EnglishBased Afro-American Dialects of the New World. (Linguistica Extranea 11.) Ann Arbor: Karoma. Allsopp, Richard (ed.) 1996 Dictionary of Caribbean English Usage. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Anderson, Peter M. 1987 A Structural Atlas of the English Dialects. London: Croom Helm. Anderwald, Lieselotte 2002 Negation in Non-standard British English: Gaps, Regularizations, Asymmetries. (Routledge Studies in Germanic Linguistics 8.) London/New York: Routledge. Atwood, E. Bagby 1953 A Survey of Verb Forms in the Eastern United States. (Studies in American English 2.) Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Avis, Walter S., Charles Crate, Patrick Drysdale, Douglas Leechman and Matthew H. Scargill 1967 A Dictionary of Canadianisms on Historical Principles. Toronto: Gage. Bailey, Beryl Loftman 1966 Jamaican Creole Syntax. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bailey, Richard W. and Jay L. Robinson 1973 Varieties of Present-Day English. New York: Macmillan.

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Bailey, Richard W. and Manfred Görlach (eds.) 1982 English as a World Language. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Bailey, Guy, Natalie Maynor and Patricia Cukor-Avila (eds.) 1991 The Emergence of Black English: Text and Commentary. (Creole Language Library 8.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Baker, Philip and Adrienne Bruyn (eds.) 1998 St. Kitts and the Atlantic Creoles: The Texts of Samuel Augustus Mathews in Perspective. (Westminster Creolistics Series 4). London: University of Westminster Press. Bamgbose, Ayo, Ayo Banjo and Andrew Thomas (eds.) 1997 New Englishes – A West African Perspective. Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press. Baugh, John 1983 Black Street Speech: Its History, Structure, and Survival. Austin: University of Texas Press. Baumgardner, Robert J. 1996 South Asian English: Structure, Use, and Users. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press. Bell, Allan and Koenrad Kuiper (eds.) 2000 New Zealand English. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 25.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins and Wellington: Victoria University Press. Bernstein, Cynthia, Thomas Nunnally and Robin Sabino (eds.) 1997 Language Variety in the South Revisited. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. Bickerton, Derek 1975 Dynamics of a Creole System. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1981 Roots of Language. Ann Arbor: Karoma. Blair, David and Peter Collins (eds.) 2001 English in Australia. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 26.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Bliss, Alan J. 1979 Spoken English in Ireland 1600–1740. Dublin: Dolmen Press. Bolton, Kingsley (ed.) 2002 Hong Kong English: Autonomy and Creativity. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press. Britain, David (ed.) forthcoming Language in the British Isles. (Fully updated and revised second edition). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Burchfield, Robert (ed.) 1994 The Cambridge History of the English Language, Volume V: English in Britain and Overseas: Origins and Development. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Carrington, Lawrence D., Dennis Craig and Ramon Todd Dandare (eds.) 1983 Studies in Caribbean Language. Papers Presented at the 3rd Biennial Conference of the Society for Caribbean Linguistics Held in Aruba, Netherlands Antilles from 16–20 Sept 1980 . St. Augustine, Trinidad: Society for Caribbean Linguistics.

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General references

Carver, Craig M. 1987 American Regional Dialects: A Word Geography. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Cassidy, Frederic G. 1961 Jamaica Talk: 300 Years of the English Language in Jamaica. London: Macmillan. Cassidy, Frederic G. (ed.) 1985 –2002 Dictionary of American Regional English. 4 Volumes to date. Cambridge, MA/London: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Cassidy, Frederic G. and Robert B. LePage (eds.) 1967 Dictionary of Jamaican English. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Chambers, J.K. 2003 Sociolinguistic Theory: Linguistic Variation and its Social Significance. 2nd edition. (Language in Society 22.) Oxford: Blackwell. Chambers, J.K. and Peter Trudgill 1998 Dialectology. 2nd edition. (Cambridge Textbooks in Linguistics.) Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Chambers, J.K. (ed.) 1975 Canadian English: Origins and Structures. Toronto: Methuen. Chambers, J.K., Peter Trudgill and Natalie Schilling-Estes (eds.) 2002 The Handbook of Language Variation and Change. (Blackwell Handbooks in Linguistics.) Malden, MA: Blackwell. Cheshire, Jenny L. (ed.) 1991 English Around the World: Sociolinguistic Perspectives. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Cheshire, Jenny L. and Dieter Stein (eds.) 1997 Taming the Vernacular: From Dialect to Written Standard Language. Harlow: Longman. Christian, Donna, Nanjo Dube and Walt Wolfram 1988 Variation and Change in Geographically Isolated Communities: Appalachian English and Ozark English. (American Dialect Society 74.) Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. Christie, Pauline, Lawrence Carrington, Barbara Lalla and Velma Pollard (eds.) 1998 Studies in Caribbean Language II. Papers from the Ninth Biennial Conference of the SCL, 1992. St. Augustine, Trinidad: Society for Caribbean Linguistics. Clarke, Sandra (ed.) 1993 Focus on Canada. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 11.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Collins, Peter and David Blair (eds.) 1989 Australian English: the Language of a New Society. St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press. Corbett, John, J. Derrick McClure and Jane Stuart-Smith (eds.) 2003 The Edinburgh Companion to Scots. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Crystal, David 2003 The Cambridge Encyclopedia of the English Language. 2nd edition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

General references

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D’Costa, Jean and Barbara Lalla 1989 Voices in Exile: Jamaican Texts of the 18th and 19th Centuries. Tuscaloosa/ London: University of Alabama Press. Davis, Lawrence M. 1983 English Dialectology: An Introduction. University, Alabama: University of Alabama Press. Day, Richard R. (ed.) 1980 Issues in English Creoles: Papers from the 1975 Hawaii Conference. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 2.) Heidelberg: Groos. De Klerk, Vivian (ed.) 1996 Focus on South Africa. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 15.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. De Wolf, Gaelan Dodds 1992 Social and Regional Factors in Canadian English. Study of Phonological Variables and Grammatical Items in Ottawa and Vancouver. Toronto: Canadian Scholar’s Press. DeCamp, David and Ian F. Hancock (eds.) 1974 Pidgins and Creoles: Current Trends and Prospects. Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press. Devonish, Hubert 1989 Talking in Tones: A Study of Tone in Afro-European Creole Languages. London/Barbados: Karia Press and Caribbean Academic Publications. Eckert, Penelope (ed.) 1991 New Ways of Analyzing Sound Change. (Qualitative Analyses of Linguistic Structure 5.) New York/San Diego: Academic Press. Edwards, Viv 1986 Language in a Black Community. (Multilingual Matters 24.) Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Edwards, Walter F. and Donald Winford (ed.) 1991 Verb Phrase Patterns in Black English and Creole. Detroit: Wayne State University. Ellis, Alexander J. 1869 –1889 On Early English Pronunciation. 5 Volumes. London: Trübner. Fasold, Ralph W. 1972 Tense Marking in Black English: A Linguistic and Social Analysis. (Urban Language Series 8.) Arlington, VA: Center for Applied Linguistics. Fasold, Ralph W. and Roger W. Shuy (eds.) 1970 Teaching Standard English in the Inner City. (Urban Language Series 6.) Washington, D.C.: Center for Applied Linguistics. 1975 Analyzing Variation in Language. Papers from the Second Colloquium on New Ways of Analyzing Variation. Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press. Ferguson, Charles and Shirley Brice Heat (eds.) 1981 Language in the USA. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Filppula, Markku 1999 The Grammar of Irish English: Language in Hibernian Style. (Routledge Studies in Germanic Linguistics 5.) London/New York: Routledge.

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Hewitt, Roger 1986 White Talk, Black Talk: Inter-Racial Friendship and Communication amongst Adolescents. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hickey, Raymond 2005 The Sound Atlas of Irish English. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. forthcoming The Legacy of Colonial English: Transported Dialects. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Holm, John A. 1988 –1989 Pidgins and Creoles. 2 Volumes. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2000 An Introduction to Pidgins and Creoles. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Holm, John A. and Peter Patrick forthcoming Comparative Creole Syntax: Parallel Outlines of 18 Creole Grammars. London: Battlebridge. Holm, John A. (ed.) 1983 Central American English. (Varieties of English around the World, Text Series 2.) Heidelberg: Groos. Huber, Magnus and Mikael Parkvall (eds.) 1999 Spreading the Word: The Issue of Diffusion among the Atlantic Creoles. London: University of Westminster Press. Hughes, Arthur and Peter Trudgill 1996 English Accents and Dialects: An Introduction to Social and Regional Varieties of English in the British Isles. 3rd edition. London: Arnold. Hymes, Dell H. (ed.) 1971 Pidginization and Creolization of Languages: Proceedings of a Conference, Held at the University of the West Indies Mona, Jamaica, April 1968. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. James, Winford and Valerie Youssef 2002 The Languages of Tobago. Genesis, Structure and Perspectives. St. Augustine, Trinidad: University of the West Indies. Jones, Charles (ed.) 1997 The Edinburgh History of the Scots Language. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Kachru, Braj B. 1983 The Indianization of English: The English Language in India. Delhi: Oxford University Press. Kachru, Braj B. (ed.) 1982 The Other Tongue: English Across Cultures. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Kautzsch, Alexander 2002 The Historical Evolution of Earlier African American English. An Empirical Comparison of Early Sources. (Topics in English Linguistics 38.) Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Keesing, Roger M. 1988 Melanesian Pidgin and the Oceanic Substrate. Stanford: Stanford University Press.

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Kirk, John M. and Dónall P. Ó Baoill 2001 Language Links: The Languages of Scotland and Ireland. Belfast: Cló Olscoill na Banríona [Queen’s University Press]. Kirk, John M., Stewart Sanderson and John D.A. Widdowson (eds.) 1985 Studies in Linguistic Geography: The Dialects of English in Britain and Ireland. London et al.: Croom Helm. Kortmann, Bernd, Tanja Herrmann, Lukas Pietsch and Susanne Wagner 2005 A Comparative Grammar of British English Dialects: Agreement, Gender, Relative Clauses. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Kortmann, Bernd (ed.) 2004 Dialectology Meets Typology: Dialect Grammar from a Cross-Linguistic Perspective. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Krapp, George P. 1925 The English Language in America. 2 Volumes. New York: Century. Kretzschmar, William A. and Edgar W. Schneider 1996 Introduction to Quantitative Analysis of Linguistic Survey Data: An Atlas by the Numbers. (Empirical Linguistics Series.) Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Kretzschmar, William A., Virginia G. McDavid, Theodore K. Lerud and Ellen Johnson (eds.) 1993 Handbook of the Linguistic Atlas of the Middle and South Atlantic States. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Kurath, Hans 1949 A Word Geography of the Eastern United States. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Kurath, Hans and Raven I. McDavid, Jr. 1961 The Pronunciation of English in the Atlantic States. Based upon the Collections of the Linguistic Atlas. (Studies in American English 3.) Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Kurath, Hans (ed.) 1939 –1943 Linguistic Atlas of New England. Providence: Brown University Press. Labov, William 1966 The Social Stratification of English in New York City. (Urban Language Series 1.) Washington, D.C.: Center for Applied Linguistics. 1972a Language in the Inner City: Studies in the Black English Vernacular. (Conduct and Communication 3.) Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. 1972b Sociolinguistic Patterns. (Conduct and Communication 4.) Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. 1980 Locating Language in Time and Space. (Quantitative Analyses of Linguistic Structure.) New York: Academic Press. 1994 Principles of Linguistic Change, Volume 1: Internal Factors. (Language in Society 20.) Oxford/Malden, MA: Blackwell. 2001 Principles of Linguistic Change, Volume 2: Social Factors. (Language in Society 29.) Oxford/Malden, MA: Blackwell. Labov, William, Richard Steiner and Malcah Yaeger 1972 A Quantitative Study of Sound Change in Progress: Report on National Science Foundation Contract NSF-GS-3278 University of Pennsylvania. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Regional Survey.

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Labov, William, Sharon Ash and Charles Boberg forthcoming Atlas of North American English: Phonetics, Phonology and Sound Change. (Topics in English Linguistics 41.) Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Lalla, Barbara and Jean D’Costa 1990 Language in Exile: Three Hundred Years of Jamaican Creole. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. Lanehart, Sonja L. (ed.) 2001 Sociocultural and Historical Contexts of African American English. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 27.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. LePage, Robert B. and Andrée Tabouret-Keller 1985 Acts of Identity: Creole-based Approaches to Language and Ethnicity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lindquist, Hans, Maria Estling, Staffan Klintborg and Magnus Levin (eds.) 1998 The Major Varieties of English: Papers from MAVEN 97, Växjö 20–22 November 1997. (Acta Wexionensia: Humaniora; 1.) Växjö: Växjo University. Matthews, William 1938 Cockney Past and Present: A Short History of the Dialect of London. London: Routledge. McArthur, Tom 1992 The Oxford Companion to the English Language. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 2002 Oxford Guide to World English. Oxford: Oxford University Press. McMillan, James B. and Michel B. Montgomery 1989 Annotated Bibliography of Southern American English. Tuscaloosa/London: University of Alabama Press. McWhorter, John H. (ed.) 2000 Language Change and Language Contact in Pidgins and Creoles. (Creole Language Library 21.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Mehrotra, Raja Ram 1998 Indian English – Text and Interpretation. (Varieties of English around the World, Text Series 7.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Mencken, Henry 1963 The American Language: An Inquiry into the Development of English in the United States. With the Assistance of David W. Maurer. New York: Knopf. Mesthrie, Rajend (ed.) 1995 Language and Social History: Studies in South African Sociolinguistics. Cape Town: David Philip. 2002 Language in South Africa. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Milroy, James 1981 Regional Accents of English: Belfast. Belfast: Blackstaff. Milroy, James and Lesley Milroy (eds.) 1993 Real English: The Grammar of English Dialects in the British Isles. (Real Language Series.) London: Longman.

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Montgomery, Michael B. and Guy Bailey (eds.) 1986 Language Variety in the South: Perspectives in Black and White. University, AL: University of Alabama Press. Montgomery, Michael B. and Thomas Nunnally (eds.) 1998 From the Gulf States and Beyond. The Legacy of Lee Pederson and LAGS. Tuscaloosa, AL/London: University of Alabama Press. Mufwene, Salikoko S. 2001 The Ecology of Language Evolution. (Cambridge Approaches to Language Contact.) Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mufwene, Salikoko S., Guy Bailey, John Baugh and John R. Rickford (eds.) 1998 African-American English. Structure, History and Use. London: Routledge. Mufwene, Salikoko S. (ed.) 1993 Africanisms in Afro-American Language Varieties. Athens: University of Georgia Press. Mühleisen, Susanne 2002 Creole Discourse: Exploring Prestige Formation and Change across Caribbean English-Lexicon Creoles. (Creole Language Library 24.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Mühlhäusler, Peter 1997 Pidgin and Creole Linguistics. (Westminster Creolistic Series 3.) London: University of Westminster Press. Muysken, Pieter and Norval Smith (eds.) 1986 Substrata versus Universals in Creole Genesis. Papers from the Amsterdam Creole Workshop, April 1985. (Creole Language Library 1.) Amsterdam/ Philadelphia: Benjamins. Myers-Scotton, Carol 2002 Contact Linguistics: Bilingual Encounters and Grammatical Outcomes. (Oxford Linguistics.) Oxford: Oxford University Press. Nagle, Stephen J. and Sara L. Sanders (eds.) 2003 English in the Southern United States. (Studies in English Language.) Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Neumann-Holzschuh, Ingrid and Edgar W. Schneider (eds.) 2000 Degrees of Restructuring in Creole Languages. (Creole Language Library 22.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Nihalani, Paroo, Priya Hosali and Ray K. Tongue 1989 Indian and British English: A Handbook of Usage and Pronunciation. (Oxford India Paperbacks.) Delhi: Oxford University Press. Noss, Richard B. (ed.) 1984 An Overview of Language Issues in South-East Asia: 1950–1980. Singapore: Oxford University Press. Orton, Harold (ed.) 1962 –1971 Survey of English Dialects: The Basic Material. 4 Volumes. Leeds: Arnold. Orton, Harold, Stewart Sanderson and John Widdowson (eds.) 1978 The Linguistic Atlas of England. London: Croom Helm. Parasher, S.V. 1991 Indian English: Functions and Form. (Sell-series in English Language and Literature 19.) New Delhi: Bahri.

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Parkvall, Mikael 2000 Out of Africa: African Influences in Atlantic Creoles. London: Battlebridge. Patrick, Peter L. 1999 Urban Jamaican Creole: Variation in the Mesolect. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 17.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Pederson, Lee (ed.) 1986 –1992 The Linguistic Atlas of the Gulf States. 7 Volumes. Athens, GA: University of Georgia Press. Plag, Ingo (ed.) 2003 Phonology and Morphology of Creole Languages. (Linguistische Arbeiten 478.) Tübingen: Niemeyer. Platt, John, Mian Lian Ho and Heidi Weber 1983 Singapore and Malaysia. (Varieties of English around the World, Text Series 4.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. 1984 The New Englishes. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Poplack, Shana and Sali Tagliamonte 2001 African American English in the Diaspora. (Language in Society 30.) Oxford/ Malden, MA: Blackwell. Poplack, Shana (ed.) 2000 The English History of African American English. (Language in Society 28.) Oxford/Malden, MA: Blackwell. Preston, Dennis R. (ed.) 1993 American Dialect Research: An Anthology Celebrating the 100th Anniversary of the American Dialect Society. (Centennial Series of the American Dialect Society.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Rampton, Ben 1995 Crossing: Language and Ethnicity among Adolescents. (Real Language Series.) London: Longman. Rickford, John R. 1987 Dimensions of a Creole Continuum: History, Texts, and Linguistics Analysis of Guyanese Creole. Stanford: Stanford University Press. 1999 African American Vernacular English: Features, Evolution, Educational Implications. (Language in Society 26.) Oxford/Malden, MA: Blackwell. Rickford, John R. and Suzanne Romaine (eds.) 1999 Creole Genesis, Attitudes and Discourse: Studies Celebrating Charlene J. Sato. (Creole Language Library 20.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Roberts, Peter A. 1988 West Indians and their Language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Romaine, Suzanne 1988 Pidgin and Creole Languages. (Longman Linguistics Library.) London/New York: Longman. Schmied, Josef J. 1991 English in Africa: An Introduction. (Longman Linguistics Library.) London: Longman. Schneider, Edgar W. 1989 American Earlier Black English. Morphological and Syntactical Variables. Tuscaloosa, AL/London: University of Alabama Press.

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International English: A Guide to Varieties of Standard English. 3rd edition. London: Arnold. 1985 International English: A Guide to Varieties of Standard English. 2nd edition. London: Arnold. 1982 International English: A Guide to Varieties of Standard English. London: Arnold. Trudgill, Peter (ed.) 1978 Sociolinguistic Patterns in British English. London: Arnold. 1984 Language in the British Isles. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Trudgill, Peter and J.K. Chambers (eds.) 1991 Dialects of English: Studies in Grammatical Variation. (Longman Linguistics Library.) London/New York: Longman. Upton, Clive, David Parry and John D.A. Widdowson 1994 Survey of English Dialects: The Dictionary and Grammar. London: Routledge. Viereck, Wolfgang (ed.) 1985 Focus on England and Wales. (Varieties of English around the World, General Series 4.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Wakelin, Martyn 1981 English Dialects: An Introduction. London: Athlone Press. Wakelin, Martyn F. (ed.) 1972 Patterns in the Folk Speech of the British Isles. With a Foreword by Harold Orton. London: Athlone Press. Watts, Richard and Peter Trudgill (eds.) 2002 Alternative Histories of English. London: Routledge. Wells, John C. 1982 Accents of English. 3 Volumes. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Williamson, Juanita and Virginia M. Burke (eds.) 1971 A Various Language. Perspectives on American Dialects. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. Winer, Lise 1993 Trinidad and Tobago. (Varieties of English around the World, Text Series 6.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Winford, Donald 1993 Predication in Carribean English Creoles. (Creole Language Library 10.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. 2003 An Introduction to Contact Linguistics. (Language in Society 33.) Malden/ Oxford/Melbourne: Blackwell. Wolfram, Walt 1969 A Sociolinguistic Description of Detroit Negro Speech. (Urban Language Series 5.) Washington, D.C.: Center for Applied Linguistics. Wolfram, Walt and Ralph W. Fasold 1974 The Study of Social Dialects in American English. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall. Wolfram, Walt and Donna Christian 1976 Appalachian Speech. Arlington, VA: Center for Applied Linguistics.

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Wolfram, Walt and Natalie Schilling-Estes 1998 American English: Dialects and Variation. (Language in Society 25.) Malden, MA/Oxford: Blackwell. Wolfram, Walt, Kirk Hazen and Natalie Schilling-Estes 1999 Dialect Change and Maintenance on the Outer Banks. (Publication of the American Dialect Society 81.) Tuscaloosa, AL/London: University of Alabama Press. Wolfram, Walt and Erik R. Thomas 2002 The Development of African American English. (Language in Society 31.) Oxford/Malden, MA: Blackwell. Wright, Joseph 1898 –1905 The English Dialect Dictionary. Oxford: Clarendon Press. 1905 The English Dialect Grammar. Oxford: Frowde.

Introduction: varieties of English in the British Isles Bernd Kortmann and Clive Upton

1.

A note on geopolitical terminology

‘The British Isles’ is a geographical term which refers to the two large islands that contain the mainlands of Scotland, Northern Ireland, the Irish Republic, Wales, and England, together with a large number of other, smaller islands that are part of the territories of these countries: one island (the Isle of Man) and one archipelago (the Channel Islands) have a significant degree of autonomy within the state which encompasses the bulk of the British Isles, the United Kingdom. ‘The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland’ (the UK) is a state that encompasses Scotland, Wales, England, Man, and the Channel Islands, together with the northernmost part of the island of Ireland. If Northern Ireland is omitted entirely from a description, the designation of the area described is properly ‘Great Britain’. ‘Ireland’ properly designates the whole of the island of Ireland (though popularly it is used to refer to the state of Ireland, that is the Republic of Ireland, which occupies the central, southern, and north-western parts).

2.

The coverage of British Isles accents and dialects

Major accent and dialect distinctions in the British Isles section of this Handbook are represented in chapters covering Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Northern England, and Southern England. Other chapters cover the distinctive accents and dialects of somewhat less extensive areas: Orkney and Shetland, the Channel Islands, the eastern England region of East Anglia, and the very major conurbation and administrative area of the English West Midlands. Variation within each of these areas is, of course, discussed in the relevant chapters: in particular, Northern and Southern Irish are distinguished, as is the speech of southwest and southeast England, where major differences apply. It is expected that the reader might concentrate on particular chapters or smaller sections to gain in-depth knowledge of a particular variety or group of closely-related varieties or, especially by referring to the sound charts, to obtain an overview of wider overall variation or of variation relating to specific linguistic variables. Whilst Received Pronunciation (RP) is specifically presented as a supra-regional accent model frequently used in the teaching of English worldwide and for purposes of wide communication, its description plays only a very minor part

26

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in the analysis of the regional varieties, each of which is described in its own terms rather than in any sense as divergent from an externally-imposed norm. For reasons spelt out in the General Introduction to this Handbook, Standard English grammar is not explicitly discussed as a separate entity.

3.

The concept of the ‘dialect area’

The linguistic varieties of the UK and Ireland presented in this Handbook are discussed along geographical lines. This arrangement by region is convenient in terms of structure, and is helpful to the user who wishes to understand regional differences, or who needs to concentrate on the variety or group of varieties found in one particular region. But it is also potentially misleading, since the impression might be gained that UK and Irish varieties are tidily to be separated from each other, with one being spoken by a fixed, geographically identifiable group of people quite distinct from another group using another quite different set of speech-forms. Nothing could be further from the truth. Far from there being regional cutoff points for ways of speaking, i.e. boundaries where, for example, one accent ceases to be heard and another takes its place, accents and dialects blend subtly and imperceptibly into one another. Rather than the hearer detecting the presence or absence of features as they move about a country or region, particularly at a local level it is a matter of ‘more or less’, of features being heard with greater or lesser frequency as features most characteristic of one region are left behind, to be replaced with greater intensity by others associated with a region being approached. Nor should we think that all speakers in one place use the same set of features with the same level of intensity, if they use them at all. It is to be expected that some speakers, those who sound most local to a particular place, will fairly consistently exhibit a set of features which most closely conform to a characteristic local way of speaking, and it is these which form a central part of the local accent and dialect descriptions given in the chapters that follow. However, very many speakers will not be consistent in their use of these features, being variably more or less regional in different situations or under different social promptings (e.g. the social status of addresser and addressee, and the degree of familiarity between them), even within the same discourse (e.g. depending on the topic). It is important to note immediately that such variation is not random: speakers do not drift between, towards, or away from markedly regional pronunciations on a whim. Rather, it has been shown in numerous studies that such movement patterns correlate with such social phenomena as age, gender, socio-economic status, ethnicity and local affiliations of both speaker and hearer, and can result in short-term, but also longterm, language change.

Introduction: varieties of English in the British Isles

27

The acceptance of the absence of tight boundaries for phonological and grammatical features, and the acknowledgement of speakers in any one place being socially heterogeneous and, moreover, inconsistent in their speech lead to the inevitable conclusion that the concept of the ‘dialect area’ as a fixed, tidy entity is ultimately a myth. In terms of pronunciation, what we are faced with, in place of a certain number of accents, is in reality a continuum: accents shade one into another as individual speakers espouse features drawn from a range of accents to which they have access and that are indicative not just of their regional connections but also of their social needs and aspirations. The same is true for grammatical usage, and for lexical choice.

4.

The distinction between ‘traditional’ and ‘modern’ dialects

Another often-used notion in dialectology we would like to question is the separation of dialects into two distinct categories, the ‘Traditional’ and the ‘Modern’. This artificially tidy categorisation is not only questionable given the fact of constant language change. It is even more debatable in the light of the fact that, as will be explained below, much of our knowledge of recent distributions of dialect features over wide sweeps of territory in the British Isles continues to be based on surveys now considered to have focused on the ‘traditional’, in the sense that their target was the essentially rural speech of comparatively static communities. (No community is ever wholly static or isolated, of course: there will always be incomers and external contacts, however few these might be in particular communities at certain times.) Nevertheless, the bipartite distinction does have some undoubted merit as an idealisation: it reminds us that urbanisation and geographical and social mobility have resulted in some accelerated and often quite dramatic changes in speech in recent years, as is made clear in the following chapters. Perhaps it reminds us, too, that language should be seen in its continuous historical (diachronic) as well as its ‘snapshot-in-time’ (synchronic) dimension, that there was a ‘then’ to contrast with the ‘now’. However, we would be wrong to suppose that there is a straightforward, clear-cut distinction between the way English was spoken in the rural communities of half a century ago and as it is in the towns and cities of today, or that change is happening to language now as it has not happened before. Across time there are periods of comparatively rapid and of slower alteration in speech, but language is constantly changing. (And, indeed, the mechanisms of language change occupy the research attention of very many dialectologists today, just as ascertaining the facts of its progress absorbed the efforts of dialect researchers of previous generations.) Furthermore, since human society is in essence the same as it was in the past, a greater understanding of the facts of and reasons for that change today informs our understanding of developments both in the past and into the future.

28 5.

Bernd Kortmann and Clive Upton

Historical and cultural elements in the formation of British accents

Varieties of English around the world are all derived from one ancestral root-stock (variously called Anglo-Saxon or Old English). In part at least, the distinctive sounds and grammatical properties of each are tied to developments in the history of the language, these sometimes dating back many centuries. It is in the UK and Ireland, and in England in particular, however, that this matter of pedigree is most significant. This fact is unsurprising. English is, after all, at bottom the product of England and southern Scotland, born of a fusion of West Germanic dialects brought from mainland Europe to the islands of Britain in the fifth and sixth centuries AD, and perhaps even earlier. Fusing over the centuries with elements of Celtic, Norse, and French, and subject to sundry other influences as a result of the islands’ complex history of trade and conquest, the language in its homeland has had time and motive both to preserve ancient forms and to fragment to a degree unknown elsewhere in the English-speaking world. Thus, constant echoes of earlier phonology and grammar are to be heard in the British regional varieties discussed in this Handbook. They are very clearly evident where contrasts appear between regional accents and the convenient touchstone accent of RP, which is itself an evolving accent but one which, as a model for pronunciation of British English, does not go back before the nineteenth century. The STRUT/PUT merger of the English North and North Midlands, i.e. the vowel in words like strut and hut being the same as in put, is Anglo-Saxon, for example. So are long monophthongs where RP and some other accents have diphthongs. So too, among many other features, are the ‘Velar Nasal Plus’ feature (as in the pronunciation /sINg/ of sing or /
sINg´/ of singer [Wells 1982: 365]) of the English north-west Midlands, and the rhoticity (i.e. the pronunciation of /r/ following a vowel, as in star or start) characteristic of Scotland, Ireland, south-west England, parts of Lancashire and the Northeast, as too of North America of course. Corresponding grammatical features from earlier periods of English include multiple negation (or negative concord), as in She couldn’t say nothing about them, and personal pronoun forms like thou and thee. The length of time over which English has been evolving in the small area that is the British Isles accounts in large part for the complex variation in its presentday dialects. To this must be added the region’s ethnic and political mix, both now and in the past. There are, of course, two sovereign states represented, the United Kingdom and the Republic of Ireland. The United Kingdom in turn comprises the nations of England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland, and matters of national as well as of narrower regional identity come into play when espousal of features of language are concerned. In the present, Wales especially, and Scotland and Ireland to lesser extents, see the interaction of English with Celtic languages. In the past, this interaction with Celtic has been most influential in the north and west of the region, as has that with Norse in Ireland, in northern Scotland and the Orkney

Introduction: varieties of English in the British Isles

29

and Shetland Isles, and in northwest and eastern England. The economic and political dominance exerted on Britain by London and the southeast of England has also inevitably shaped accents: not itself a regional accent, RP nevertheless has an essentially southeastern phonemic structure and phonetic bias; such processes as the Great Vowel Shift have acted to shape modern phonology more consistently and more completely in the south of England than elsewhere. All of this cultural and historical complexity, as it affects language, is rehearsed in the various chapters that follow, and each in consequence has its own unique perspective.

6.

Dialect surveys

Although they are neither very recent nor focused upon the accents of major centres of population, a small group of major regional dialect surveys are heavily drawn upon in the writing of the following chapters, as they must inevitably be by anyone commenting on variation in the speech of the British Isles. Foremost among these, for England, is the Survey of English Dialects (SED). This essentially rural survey from the mid-twentieth century continues to be drawn upon for information because of its detailed coverage, its reliability (given the constraints under which it operated) and the accessibility of its information: it is fair to say that no reliable statements can be made about the widespread distribution of linguistic features within England without reference to its findings, since there exists no more recent country-wide comprehensive evidence. The SED is paralleled by its contemporary in Scotland, the Linguistic Survey of Scotland, in Wales by the Survey of Anglo-Welsh Dialects, and in Ireland by the Tape-recorded Survey of Hiberno-English Speech. The last two surveys were in some large measure directly inspired by the SED, under whose founder, Harold Orton, some of their founder-workers had trained. Recently, however, whilst there have been some comparatively large-scale efforts at data-gathering (see especially the Survey of British Dialect Grammar [Cheshire/ Edwards/Whittle 1993], the Freiburg English Dialect Corpus [Kortmann 2003, Kortmann and Wagner 2005], and the Sound Atlas of Irish English [Hickey 2005 and this volume]), the reader will notice that, with the notable exception of the latter, even these have not been on the scale of earlier surveys. This has not, however, been accidental or the result of academic indolence on the part of the linguistic community. Rather, recent concentration on social variation in speech, in order to better understand the mechanisms of language change, has resulted in focus being on small(er) areas and fewer locations in which diverse populations can be studied in close detail: the wide sweeps of variation that were the object of earlier research do not speak to the considerations of motivation for language use, and for language variation, which are a preoccupation of today’s dialectologists. (In this regard, there have been a number of recent seminal works which have been drawn upon in the

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Bernd Kortmann and Clive Upton

present volume, such as Foulkes and Docherty’s Urban Voices [1999] and Milroy and Milroy’s Real English [1993].) Beyond the larger survey materials, therefore, the authors have drawn upon a wide range of materials which result from their own and others’ intensive study of the localised speech of their respective areas.

7.

The chapters on phonology

Melchers’ focus is on distinctions between the phonology of Orkney (“Orcadian”) and Shetland, and also between their divergence from and correspondence to the accents of mainland Scotland. Amongst those accents, Stuart-Smith identifies a continuum corresponding to a phonological range available to very many in Scotland, whose speech ranges seamlessly between Scottish Standard English and Scots: as regards the latter, on grounds of population density and the existence of detailed research data, she concentrates on the Urban Scots of the ‘Central Belt’ around Edinburgh and (especially) Glasgow. In a chapter which, concerning its northern data, relates very closely to that of Scotland, Hickey describes a complex of accents in which a north-south split provides a basic structure. He identifies a supraregional Southern accent and three regional southern varieties, distinguishing these from Northern varieties. He includes discussion of the complex terminology associated with northern variation, and three urban accents, those of Dublin, Belfast, and Derry. As Hickey’s chapter treats the admixture of English, Irish and Scots influences on the Irish English accents, so Penhallurick’s is concerned with the interface of English and Welsh in the phonology of Wales. Welsh sounds in English, the effects of long-established cultural links with the English Midlands and Southwest, and the existence of English as a Foreign Language for Welsh speakers are shown to be factors in the creation of the Principality’s distinctive English accents. Directly across the border from Wales, Clark’s West Midlands is the second largest conurbation of England and the UK, home to the two distinct if closely-related accents of Birmingham and the Black Country. Concentration in this chapter is on the Black Country on the one hand and on the wider West Midland conurbation on the other, with the various accents discussed as both distinctive and as collectively a Northern English variety. In a discussion of the Northern accents of England proper, Beal identifies pan-northern accent features, whilst pointing also to more locally distinctive characteristics, most especially though not exclusively those of the Northeast (‘Geordie’) and Liverpool (‘Scouse’). Altendorf and Watt, in their chapter on the phonology of southern England, divide their area firmly into east and west (the non-rhotic and rhotic areas respectively), and describe the distinctive characteristics of the accents of these areas quite separately. Whilst they regard East Anglia as part of the South they do not venture specifically into this region: features of the East Anglian accents, and their relation to those of surrounding areas to the south, west, and north, are the subject of Trudgill’s chapter.

Introduction: varieties of English in the British Isles

31

Concluding the chapters which deal with the accents associated with specific geographical regions, Ramisch concentrates on the Channel Islands, where interaction with Channel Island (Norman) French and mainland immigrant English have both had an impact on distinctively local English pronunciation. Descriptions of two non-regional accents round off the discussion of accents of the British Isles. The first is that of British Creole, an ethnic variety which, in Patrick’s words, ‘is the product of dialect contact between West Indian migrants … and vernacular varieties of urban English’. The second is Received Pronunciation (authored by Upton), an accent that is in essence unmarked for place and so attracts none of the (sometimes adverse) social judgements which regional accents attract, and that is, in consequence, frequently used in broadcasting and as a language-teaching model.

8.

The chapters on morphology and syntax

With the exception of the West Midlands and the Channel Islands, all regional and ethnic (British Creole) varieties in the British Isles discussed in the phonology volume of this Handbook have a companion chapter in the morphosyntax volume. In all morphosyntax chapters the features described are distinctive of the relevant varieties, but in the vast majority of cases not to be understood as unique to these varieties (cf. also the General Introduction to this Handbook). Another property the majority of these chapters share is that they provide qualitative, only exceptionally quantitative, accounts based on large digitized and/or computerized corpora of spontaneous non-standard present-day speech. The first two chapters complement each other. The one by Melchers on Orkney and Shetland is geared towards highlighting morphosyntactic features which are distinctive of the Northern Isles especially due to their Scandinavian substratum. The Scandinavian features are particularly pronounced at the Broad Scots end of the dialect continuum. Especially for the Central Lowlands (Edinburgh and East Lothian), this is also the focus of Miller’s chapter on Scottish English. Southern Irish English, but also varieties of Ulster and Ulster Scots stand at the centre of Filppula’s chapter on Irish English. Especially the morphosyntax of Irish English varieties shows an interesting mix of features which, due to one or a combination of the following four factors, have affected the development of Irish English: retention of features from earlier periods of English, dialect contact with other varieties spoken in the British Isles, substratal influence from the indigenous Celtic language (Irish), and universal features we associate with varieties resulting from rapid, large-scale second-language acquisition. The second and third of these features also figure prominently in Penhallurick’s account of the morphosyntax of Welsh English: the influences of Welsh, and of the regional dialects spoken in the neighbouring counties of England.

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Bernd Kortmann and Clive Upton

Beal provides a survey of features found in the grammars of varieties spoken in the North of England, the vast majority of which are restricted to particular regions or cities. This variation in the morphology and syntax reflects the diverse histories of the different parts and urban centres of the North: in the far north, the shared history with Scotland and the continuing migration from central Scotland to Tyneside; the large-scale medieval Scandinavian settlements in an area stretching from the Northwest (Cumbria) south-east down to East Anglia, the so-called “Scandinavian belt” (including, for example, all of Yorkshire); in the large cities like Liverpool, Newcastle, and Manchester, high Irish immigration since the 19th century. Three chapters are concerned with the morphology and syntax of non-standard varieties spoken in the southern parts of England. Trudgill deals with East Anglia, Wagner with the Southwest (traditionally known as the West Country), and Anderwald with the Southeast (London and the neighbouring counties, the so-called Home Counties). East Anglia and the Southwest have been well-established dialect areas since medieval times, especially the Southwest still boasting not only a unique mix of morphosyntactic features but also individual morphosyntactic properties which are truly unique to this area. The Southeast, by contrast, is a relatively young and, at least with regard to grammar, surprisingly underresearched area in modern dialect research. Here most morphosyntactic features seem to be representative of non-standard speech in present-day England in general. Anderwald’s survey is based, among other things, on quantitative analyses of the British National Corpus (BNC), the Bergen Corpus of London Teenage Language (COLT) and the Freiburg English Dialect Corpus (FRED), and provides a solid basis for studies wanting to explore the extent to which the Southeast may be responsible for the (partly ongoing) spread of the relevant morphosyntactic features in the British Isles. The chapter on the Southeast is also useful background reading against which to judge Sebba’s observations on British Creole, since the conversational data Sebba has analyzed are all taken from British-born Caribbean adolescents living in London. This contact variety displays a fascinating degree of syntactic variability which cannot be explained by a continuum model, as known from pidgin and creole studies, alone. What additionally needs to be factored in is, for example, the existence of (especially Jamaican) creole- and standard-like variants for many linguistic forms, and the fact that (for a variety of reasons) speakers often mix Creole and English English forms. References Cheshire, Jenny, Viv Edwards and Pamela Whittle 1993 Non-standard English and dialect levelling. In: Milroy and Milroy (eds.), 53–96. Foulkes, Paul and Gerard Docherty (eds.) 1999 Urban Voices: Accent Studies in the British Isles. London: Arnold.

Introduction: varieties of English in the British Isles

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Hickey, Raymond 2005 A Sound Atlas of Irish English. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Kortmann, Bernd 2003 Comparative English dialect grammar: A typological approach. In: Ignacio M. Palacios, María José López Couso, Patricia Fra and Elena Seoane (eds.), Fifty Years of English Studies in Spain (1952:2002). A Commemorative Volume, 65–83. Santiago de Compostela: University of Santiago. Kortmann, Bernd and Susanne Wagner 2005 The Freiburg English Dialect Project and Corpus. In: Bernd Kortmann, Tanja Herrmann, Lukas Pietsch and Susanne Wagner, A Comparative Grammar of British English Dialects: Agreement, Gender, Relative Clauses. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Milroy, John and Lesley Milroy (eds.) 1993 Real English. The Grammar of English Dialects in the British Isles. London/ New York: Longman. Orton, Harold (ed.) 1962–1971 Survey of English Dialects: The Basic Material. 4 vols. Leeds: E.J. Arnold.

English spoken in Orkney and Shetland: morphology, syntax, and lexicon Gunnel Melchers

1.

Introduction

An account of the unique historical and linguistic background of the Northern Isles, which were ruled by Scandinavians until the latter half of the 15th century, is given in the phonology section of this handbook (see Melchers, other volume). Today, the traditional dialects as spoken in the Northern Isles must be described as varieties of Scots, yet with a substantial component of Scandinavian features, manifested at all levels of language. This component differs from the Scandinavian linguistic heritage in other parts of Britain (possibly with the exception of Caithness), not only in size but also in structure and history. The Norse invaders of Yorkshire, for example, met a native Anglo-Saxon population with whom they – allegedly – could communicate. They influenced the Anglo-Saxon language and some of this influence has survived, mostly in the form of lexical borrowings. In Orkney and Shetland, on the other hand, we see the still powerful impact of a Scandinavian substratum, supported by positive – to the degree of romantic – feelings of affiliation with Scandinavia. Orkney and Shetland can be characterized as bidialectal speech communities with access to a choice of two discrete, definable forms of speech – one a form of standard, basically Standard Scottish English, and the other what Wells (1982) calls traditional dialect. Orcadians and Shetlanders are generally aware of commanding two distinct varieties and they have names for these, e.g. “English” vs. “Shetland” or “Orcadian”. Admittedly, age-related differences have been observed: on the one hand, young people are losing some of the traditional-dialect indexicals, on the other they often state explicitly that they do not wish to adapt to outsiders and tend to be scathing about islanders who do. It would, however, be difficult to find truly monolingual speakers of the traditional dialect today. As for writing, it goes without saying that Shetlanders and Orcadians are in full command of Standard English, but there is a growing interest in maintaining written forms of the regional dialects as well, encouraged by schoolteachers and manifested in local publications as well as spontaneous notes, letters, scripts etc. The awareness of two varieties of language was demonstrated in the reading of the test passage for this handbook, The North Wind and the Sun, when a Shetland informant first read the text word for word and then spontaneously “translated” some words and phrases into a more Shetland version, e.g. was arguin’ instead of were disputing, what ane was stronger instead of which was the stronger.

English spoken in Orkney and Shetland: morphology, syntax, and lexicon

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As varieties of Scots/Scottish English, Shetland and Orkney dialects naturally share a great many – if not the bulk – of the characteristics described in the chapter on the morphology and syntax of Scottish English (see Miller, this volume). This presentation should be seen as a complement to Miller’s, exclusively drawing on examples from Orkney (O) and Shetland (S) data and highlighting some areas where language in the Northern Isles is particularly distinctive, often due to their Scandinavian substratum. As in the Scottish English chapter, the focus is on structures towards and at the Broad Scots end of the continuum, which in this case entails a sizeable component of Scandinavian features. Unlike the chapter on Scottish English, this presentation does not present morphology and syntax in distinctive sections. The main reason for this is that very little research has been carried out on the syntax of these varieties.

2.

Research and data

Present-day language in the Northern Isles, especially Orkney, is indeed remarkably under-researched. With the exception of two dictionaries written in a popular style, Orkney Wordbook (Lamb 1988) and The Orkney Dictionary (Flaws and Lamb 1997), there has been no general study of Orcadian since Marwick’s The Orkney Norn (1929), mainly a dictionary but with a useful, though extremely brief, general introduction to the language. Shetland dialect as spoken at the end of the 19th century was carefully documented in Jakob Jakobsen’s monumental An Etymological Dictionary of the Norn Language in Shetland (1928−1932); as the title suggests, it obviously has a clear Scandinavian bias but provides some information about the language variety as a whole. As in Marwick’s work, morphological and syntactic structures basically have to be worked out through the study of individual entries, however. John Graham, a native Shetlander, English teacher, fictional writer and linguist, wrote The Shetland Dictionary, whose first edition appeared in the early 1970s. Although a slim contribution compared to Jakobsen’s dictionary, it is very important in providing up-to-date knowledge about current usage as well as a wealth of authentic examples. With T.A. Robertson as co-author, Graham also wrote Grammar and Usage of the Shetland Dialect (1991), which has less than 50 pages but constitutes the only attempt so far at producing a comprehensive grammar of the dialect. For Orkney, we only have just over two pages in Marwick’s introduction to his dictionary and a few comments in the more recent popular works. Aspects of Shetland dialect syntax, with special reference to word order typology, are currently being investigated by Dianne Jonas (cf. e.g. Jonas 2002). Extensive fieldwork on Shetland dialect was carried out in the 1980s by Melchers and Foldvik, described in several publications. A great deal of the data, including recordings featuring on the CD-ROM, derives from this project. The Linguistic

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Gunnel Melchers

Survey of Scotland (LSS) included various localities in Orkney and Shetland and provides useful information about the lexicon, but unlike the Survey of English Dialects (SED), its counterpart in England, unfortunately not on morphology and syntax. However, some unpublished LSS material in the form of slips containing answers to additional sections in the questionnaire eliciting aspects of grammar, e.g. negation, verb forms, and pronominal usage, has been consulted for the purpose of this chapter. In addition to the above-mentioned recordings and material collected for this presentation in Orkney and Shetland during the summer of 2002, a great deal of material recorded for the purpose of oral history has been made available by the Orkney and Shetland Archives. This is particularly useful since the interviewers are mostly dialect speakers themselves, which means that the informants do not tend to adapt their language. Another source of information, reflecting presentday spoken language, is the extensive writing in local dialect, carried out in a variety of genres and encouraged in the schools (cf. Melchers 1999, which also contains some information about dialect writing in Orkney). The spelling used in the examples below is generally taken from local representations in writing, to some extent “standardized” in the widely circulated present-day dictionaries described above. Unless otherwise indicated, the presentation applies to Orkney as well as Shetland, although Shetland tends to dominate the description of characteristic features and hence the number of examples. There are two reasons for this imbalance: – for historical and geographical reasons Shetland dialect has remained more distinct from other varieties of Scots and retained more of the Norse element; – more linguistic research has been devoted to the present-day language situation in Shetland It remains to be pointed out that some differences in Orkney and Shetland forms may be due to differences in the written tradition and that examples marked (O) or (S) do not necessarily signal that they are exclusive to Orkney or Shetland but mostly just state the origin of the data. “Unmarked” examples refer to both varieties.

3.

Verbs

3.1.

Some morphological characteristics

As pointed out by Miller (this volume), a given verb may be strong in Standard English but weak in Scots (cf. [1] below) and vice versa. Regular verbs: Past tense and past participle endings are generally: a) -ed after vowels and voiced consonants other than plosives; b) -it (S)/-id (O) after plosives; c) -t after other voiceless consonants.

English spoken in Orkney and Shetland: morphology, syntax, and lexicon

(1)

Somehoo he’s never been da sam since he selled oot ta yon oil company (S).

(2)

Kale and knockid corn (‘cabbage and crushed barley’) (O).

(3)

He flipit (‘folded’) up his trousers (S).

37

Irregular verbs include: aet ‘eat’ brak ‘break’ cast ‘cast’; ‘dig peats’ (4) (5)

öt brok/bruik cöst/cuist

ötten/aeten brakken/brokken cassen

Her man was cassen awa ‘lost at sea’ (S). geng ‘go’ göd ‘went’ gien ‘gone’

g(y)aan ‘going’

Der’s a feerie (‘epidemic’) gyann aboot (S). gie ‘give’ gied ‘gave’ gien ‘given’ (i.e. a merger with the above)

There is further variation in the forms of the above two verbs in Shetland and Orkney dialects. greet ‘cry’ jump ‘jump’ rive ‘tear’ shaer ‘shear’ white ‘quit’ (6)

gret/grat jamp rave shör whet

grutten/gritten juppm (S) riven shorn (S) whet

Ah’m whet gaan tae the sea now (O). write wret/wrat wret/written

Data from Shetland demonstrate a great deal of regional – and probably idiolectal – variation in irregular verb forms, e.g. jamp (past tense of jump) and skrivan ‘written’ from Fair Isle, and beuk (past tense of bake) from some places as documented by LSS. Not surprisingly, there is also considerable overlap/confusion between past and present participles: skrivan sometimes stands for ‘writing’, gyann for ‘gone’, and pitten could be either equivalent to ‘putting’ or the past participle form ‘put’, which may have played a part in the use of be as a perfective auxiliary (cf. section 3.3.). In contrast with Standard English, a distinction in form is made between verbal adjectives/present participles on the one hand and verbal nouns on the other, as illustrated by the following Orkney examples: (7)

Sheu’s knittan.

(8)

Sheu’s deuan her knitteen.

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Gunnel Melchers

Substantial evidence of this distinction – though not in all localities – is found in the (unpublished) Shetland and Orkney answers to Question 190 in LSS, eliciting local forms of he likes singing and he is aye singing. (9)

He laeks singeen; He’s aye singin (S).

Presumably by analogy, words like lesson, pudding are sometimes pronounced as ‘lesseen’, ‘puddeen’. The present indicative: Not only in the third person singular but also in the second – at least after the informal du (S) and thu/thoo (O) – are -s endings used in Shetland and Orkney: (10)

Thoo kens whit hid’s like wi a hooseful o folk (O).

(11)

Du minds (‘remind’) me aafil o dee grandfaider (S).

In the historic present, -s endings are also used in the first person singular: (12)

“So I grips and kerries her ta da hoose” (Graham 1993: 12).

The present- and past-tense paradigms of the verbs ta be (‘to be’) and ta hae (‘to have’) in Shetland dialect are:

3.2.

I am du is he is

we ir you ir dey ir

I wis du wis he wis

we wir you wir dey wir

I hae/hiv du hes he hes

we hae/hiv you hae dey hae

I hed du hed he hed

we hed you hed dey hed

Agreement

Plural subject nouns combine with verbs ending in -s, not just is and was (cf. section 3.1. in the Scottish English chapter). In the unpublished LSS material, Question 191, investigating dialect constructions corresponding to Standard English these horses pull well and they pull well, is accompanied by the following note: Shetland verbal usage is rather complicated, in some ways resembling Middle Scots. The third person plural present indicative has an -s ending if the subject is a noun or a pronoun separated from the verb: Dem at comes oonbid sits oonsaired (‘Those who come uninvited get nothing’).

Typical responses to the question in Shetland were: (13)

dis (yon) horses pulls (poos) weel; dey pull (poo) weel

English spoken in Orkney and Shetland: morphology, syntax, and lexicon

39

Interestingly, an informant notes: “When we use they, this or these we are using English and would never say these pulls or they pulls”. The following story related in Graham (2002: 6) provides further illustration of the LSS observation on Shetland verbal usage: An owld Waas man commented: “We wir boarn ta help idders.” Anidder character – a realist – said: “I winder what da idders wis boarn for?” (Waas ‘Walls, a place in Shetland’, idders ‘others’)

In Shetland dialect, der corresponds to ‘there is’ as well as ‘there are’ (cf. the use of there in examples [5–7] in the chapter on Scottish English and Orkney thir as exemplified below): (14)

Der a boat hoose yonder.

(15)

Der folk here fae Sweden and Norway.

(16)

Der twa Women’s Guilds been pitten aff da night.

(17)

Thir a lock o fock here.

This could be compared to the increasing use of grammaticalized there is in more standardlike varieties of English, as in There’s sheep and there’s penguins (Falkland English). A “frozen” form is also used for the past tense, i.e. corresponding to ‘there was’, ‘there were’ in Orkney and Shetland dialect, viz. they wir (O), dey wir (S): (18)

They wir a coo lowse in the byre.

(19)

Dey wir no money dan.

3.3.

Tense

A remarkable feature unique to Orkney and Shetland is the use of be rather than have as a perfective auxiliary, not restricted to verbs of motion but categorically, as in: (20)

I war paid him afore that (O).

(21)

Hid’ll lickly be been shoved in a draar someway ‘It will probably have been put in a drawer somewhere’ (O).

(22)

I’m seen (heard) it (S).

(23)

I’m been dere twartree (‘a couple of’) times (S).

Although there is a parallel construction in one local dialect in Norway, this is probably not a Scandinavian feature. Jakobsen (1897: 113) characterizes it as a fea-

40

Gunnel Melchers

ture of “modern Shetlandic”, which is difficult to prove owing to the non-existence of reliable early dialect texts. Recent data from Shetland show that the be construction belongs to the “Shetland code” rather than “Shetland English”. It is possible that the use of be in Orkney and Shetland is due to ambiguity and confusion of expressions referring to transitivity vs. intransitivity and active vs. passive. Another contributory factor might be that, at least in modern Shetland pronunciation, a realization of the participle form may often be identical with the gerund (cf. 3.1. above). In an example such as (24)

Yun onkerry (‘carry on’) was pitten (‘put’) her in a aafil flickament (‘state of excitement’),

the pronunciation of the main verb would be identical with that of the form putting, which would be expected to be preceded by a form of be. It is not unlikely that the general linguistic insecurity which must have resulted from the Norn/Scots contact situation, richly demonstrated in narrowing and extension of meaning in the lexicon and mergers in the phonological system, may have led to the overextended use of be. As Shetlanders were also exposed to Dutch and German influence from the Hanseatic period well into the 19th century, resulting in a number of lexical borrowings, types of constructions such as ich bin gewesen, ik ben geweest cannot be excluded from playing a part in the simplification pattern. 3.4.

Modality

In contrast with other varieties of Scots/Scottish English, there appears to be no evidence of double modals in Shetland and Orkney, with the exception of structures containing can in the sense of ‘be able to’ in Orkney dialect, as in: (25)

He’ll no can deu that.

Robertson and Graham (1991: 9) list the following modal verbs: böst ‘had to, must’ (buist, the corresponding Orkney word, appears to be obsolete); man ‘must’ (also found in Orkney); may; sall (the first person singular form is often contracted to I’s; the past tense form is sood); will. (26)

He böst til a come (‘must have come’) alang da banks.

(27)

What man be man be (‘it is inevitable’).

(28)

Shü (‘she’) sood a hed a lamb.

(26) and (28) exemplify the use of a [æ], a form of hae ‘have’, after certain modal verb forms. It is not clear why the Robertson-Graham handbook excludes can (which is used in much the same way as in Scottish English generally), must, and have to, now commonly used to express conclusions as well as obligation.

English spoken in Orkney and Shetland: morphology, syntax, and lexicon

41

The subjunctive form bees is reported from Orkney: (29)

Thoo’ll git a sweetie if thoo bees good.

(30)

We’ll can stert cuttan the morn if hid bees dry. ‘We’ll be able to start cutting tomorrow if it is dry’.

3.5.

Negation

As in Scots/Scottish English generally, verbs tend to be negated by the independent word no or by the suffix na(e), the latter typically found after modal verbs and do. (31)

“Da fok fae sooth aye mention at dey canna understaand …” (S) ‘People from south (i.e. outsiders) always mention that they can’t understand …’

(32)

Soodna we try dat? (S)

(33)

A’m no ready yet.

The last-mentioned example is taken from the Orkney and Shetland responses to Question 185 in the unpublished LSS material, eliciting ‘I’m not ready yet’ as well as ‘I don’t know’. Interestingly, the latter structure was realized as I kenno/ken no/ kno no/kjinna by a number of Shetland informants. This structure was not elicited for Orkney but is mentioned by Flaws and Lamb (2001: 44) in connection with the intriguing entry tae kenno ‘not to know’.

4.

Nouns

4.1.

Article usage

The indefinite article is always a, i.e. it is used before vowels as well as consonants (cf. also a aafil in [24] above): (34)

a uncan ‘strange’ man (S)

As in Scots generally, the definite article, which is realized as da in Shetland and they in Ronaldsey, Orkney, is used with a number of nouns with which it would not be used in Standard English. Typical categories of such nouns are names of seasons, meals, illnesses and institutions. (35)

gaan tae the kirk/the skuil, makkan the dinner (O)

(36)

da gulsa ‘jaundice’, da brunt-rift ‘heartburn’, da caald, dan cam da hairst ‘autumn’ (S)

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Gunnel Melchers

For ‘today’, ‘tonight’, ‘tomorrow’, ‘tomorrow night’ etc., Orkney and Shetland dialect has the/da day, the/da nicht, the/da mo(a)rn, the/da moarn’s nicht. ‘Yesterday evening’ is the/da streen. (37)

Da moarns night der a beetle drive in da Whiteness an Weisdale Haal (Shetland radio script).

4.2.

Plural forms

Irregular plural forms such as breider ‘brothers’, een ‘eyes’, shön ‘shoes’, kye ‘cows’ are still often heard, at least in Shetland dialect. (38)

We riggat wiz athin wir Sunday suits in polished wir shön. ‘We put on our Sunday clothes and polished our shoes’ (Alec Stout, Fair Isle).

An amusing example of cross-dialectal miscomprehension is reported from an incident during World War I, when the phrase the kye, sir, as said by a Shetlander, was interpreted as the Kaiser by an officer. Horse and beast (S: baess) have unmarked plurality.

5.

Pronouns

The subject, object, and possessive forms of the personal pronouns in Shetland dialect are: I du (you) he shui/shö hit we you dey

me dee (you) him her hit wis you dem

my/mi, mine(s) dy/di, dine(s) (your[s]) his her(s) hits wir(s) your(s) dir(s)

Orkney dialect has a similar system, with certain realizational differences, such as thu/thoo and hid. (39)

Come doon alang some nicht, lass, an tak dy sock. ‘Come along some evening, girl, and bring your knitting.’ (S)

(40)

Whar’s shoes is this? Mine’s. ‘Whose shoes are these? Mine.’ (O)

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43

As shown in the table above, the second person singular can be realized either as du/thu(thoo) or you. The use of these forms is not random, but determined by subtle factors related to age, status, situation, familiarity, attitude etc. (cf. one of the Shetland recordings on the accompanying CD-ROM). This usage is reminiscent of the situation in Sweden and Norway, at least until quite recently. The significance of you as the formal variant is not quite clear, however, since its use may often simply be ascribed to the influence of Standard English. The following results from an investigation of language attitudes carried out in the 1980s among 350 Shetland schoolchildren (cf. Melchers 1985) will illustrate some aspects of the du/you distinction: – 7% of the children used du as the only form of address. This group was further characterized by their answers to other questions in the attitude questionnaire: they did not want to leave Shetland; if they moved to London, they would go on speaking the way they did; their parents spoke dialect; they thought that in some situations it is not proper for a Shetlander to speak Standard English. – Many informants used du to everybody except teachers and certain shopkeepers. – Age is mentioned as the most important factor. Children of Shetland origin will use du to all their friends, including incomers, even if they say you to their parents. A general impression from the survey as well as participant observation is that the du-you variation is very often a conscious code-switching phenomenon, not reflecting equality-inferiority so much as accommodation to speakers of different dialects. Natural gender is very much alive in pronominal reference to certain noun categories: tools, for example, tend to be viewed as masculine, as are some natural phenomena such as the tide, whereas lamp, fish, kirk, world and some time expressions are feminine: (41)

Da tide farder nort, he streams on da west side (S).

(42)

Da millennium is comin, but shö … (S).

Of particular interest is the generic use of he referring to the weather. This may well be a substratum effect; there are similar constructions in some Norwegian dialects. (43)

He’s blowan ap ‘the wind is rising’ (S).

Reflexive pronouns are often identical with the object forms of personal pronouns: (44)

Set dee doon (S).

(45)

He wis restin him (S).

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Gunnel Melchers

Although not exclusively found in Shetland and Orkney, the demonstrative pronoun yon (yun) is widely used and has come to signal foreignness and a special feeling of remoteness, e.g. with reference to the massive influence of the oil companies, a threat to traditional life (cf. Melchers 1997). (44)

Yon oil company; yon muckle Concorde; yon Southfork (Dallas ranch) (S).

(45)

Du’s no telling me at a Shetlander biggit yon, is du?

The demonstrative pronouns this/dis and that/dat are used in the plural as well as the singular: (46)

This eens is better as that eens (O).

The relative pronoun is always at. A frequently used indefinite pronoun is twartree ‘two or three’, ‘several’.

6.

Word order

The pioneering work by Jonas (2002) demonstrates that traces of an old Scandinavian type of word order in the negated verb phrase, still existing in Icelandic and to some extent in Faroese, can be found in traditional Shetland dialect. She draws on literary sources, mostly from the 19th century, but the structure she discusses was also elicited by the LSS (cf. I kenno under 3.5. above). Attention should also be drawn to the fact that Shetland dialect still may display inverted word order and lack of do-support (47) as well as overt-subject imperatives (48): (47)

Sees du yon, boy?

(48)

Geng du my boy!

7.

A note on the lexicon

The best-known dialect word in the Northern Isles, immediately picked up by incomers, is peerie (S)/pidie (O) for ‘small’, derived from French petit. It is not clear why this word rather than wee has come to be used in Orkney and Shetland. Yet the most striking component of traditional Orkney and Shetland vocabulary is clearly the Scandinavian element. As in the case of other levels of language, it is more alive in Shetland. A detailed study of the vocabulary investigated by the Linguistic Survey of Scotland shows that Orkney retains about two thirds of the Scandinavian-based vocabulary elicited for Shetland.

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Words relating to the Scandinavian substratum are generally close to everyday life on the Northern Isles, including semantic fields such as: – flora and fauna: arvi ‘chickweed’; shalder ‘oyster-catcher’, scarf ‘cormorant’ – traditional tools: tushkar ‘spade for cutting peats’, owskeri ‘scoop used for baling water out of a boat’ – weather terminology: bonfrost ‘very severe frost’ – colours and characteristics pertaining to sheep: sholmet ‘wearing a helmet’, moorit ‘light brown’ – emotive, characterizing adjectives: döless ‘indolent’, inbigget ‘stubborn’ A recent investigation of young schoolchildren’s knowledge of a selection of words representing the last category showed a remarkable competence in supplying Standard English synonyms.

8.

Text samples

These texts have been included to add more flavour to the description of the unique traditional dialects in the Northern Isles. Orkney: A’m sheur thoo’re haerd ower an ower again that the Orkney man is a paeceable quiet kind o’ body, an’ hid’s been that aften said that feth the Orkney folk’s beginnan tae believe ’id themsel’s. Right enouf, wir no folk that carries things tae extremes, lik’ sit doon strikes, or gaan merchan here an’ there, gittan in folk’s wey and livan aff o’ the Nation for six or eight weeks. Na, wae cheust geung wir ain gate. (Costie 1976: 51) (feth ‘indeed’, merchan ‘marching’, cheust ‘just’, gate ‘way’) Shetland: Du minds du said at du wid never ken ae yowe fae anidder? Weel, I tocht da sam until I wan among dem, an boy I learned different den. Hit wisna juist da colours ida yowes at dey spak aboot; hit wis der hale laekly, der ancestors an der relations, an aa der past deeds an misanters, an even da wye at dey lookit at dee. Whit wid du tink if some ane axed dee, “Did du see a muckle twa-bletted shaela yowe risin an lyin at da back ida nort crü styaggie?”? (Holbourn 1980: 7) (yowe ‘ewe’, hale ‘whole’, laekly ‘exact resemblance’, misanter ‘mishap’, muckle ‘big’, twa-bletted ‘two separate white patches on nose and forehead of sheep’, shaela ‘dark grey’, risin ‘getting up’, crü ‘sheep-fold’, styaggie ‘part of sheep-pen’)

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM.

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Gunnel Melchers

Costie, C.M. 1976 The Collected Orkney Dialect Tales. Kirkwall: The Kirkwall Press. Flaws, Margaret and Gregor Lamb 1997 The Orkney Dictionary. Kirkwall: The Orcadian Ltd. 2001² The Orkney Dictionary. Kirkwall: The Orkney Language and Culture Group. Graham, John J. 1993 The Shetland Dictionary. (Revised edition.) Lerwick: The Shetland Times Ltd. 2002 Shetland Humour. Lerwick: The Shetland Times Ltd. Holbourn, Isobel 1980 Whit Laek an a Yowe wis Yon?. In: John J. Graham and Jim Tait (eds.), Shetland Folk Book, Volume 7, 7–11. Lerwick: The Shetland Times Ltd. Jakobsen, Jakob 1897 Det Norrøne Sprog På Shetland. Copenhagen: Wilhelm Priors Hofboghandel. 1928 An Etymological Dictionary of the Norn Language in Shetland. Volumes 1–2. Copenhagen: Wilhelm Prior. Jonas, Dianne 2002 Residual V-to-I. In: David Lightfoot (ed.), Syntactic Effects of Morphological Change, 251–270. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Lamb, Gregor 1988 Orkney Wordbook. Birsay: Byrgisey. Marwick, Hugh 1929 The Orkney Norn. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Melchers, Gunnel 1985 ‘Knappin’, ‘Proper English’, ‘Modified Scottish’ – some language attitudes in the Shetland Isles. In: Görlach (ed.), 87–100. 1997 This, that, yon – on ‘three-dimensional’ deictic systems. In: Cheshire and Stein (eds.), 83–92. 1999 Writing in Shetland Dialect. In: Irma Taavitsainen, Gunnel Melchers and Päivi Pahta (eds.), Writing in Nonstandard English, 331–345. Amsterdam/ Philadelphia: Benjamins. Robertson, T.A. and John J. Graham 1991 Grammar and Usage of the Shetland Dialect. Lerwick: The Shetland Times Ltd.

Scottish English: morphology and syntax Jim Miller

1.

Introduction

Speakers in Scotland use a range of syntactic structures varying from Broad Scots at one end of a continuum to Standard English at the other. Different speakers make different choices in different situations. This paper focuses on structures towards and at the Broad Scots end of the range. Broad Scots is essentially a spoken variety, and spontaneous spoken language has its own structures and properties. (See the references to the work of Blanche-Benveniste, Chafe, Crystal, Halliday, Sornicola, Zemskaja and others in Miller and Weinert [1998].) The structures and properties are found in all non-standard varieties of English, but also in spontaneous spoken Standard English (and other languages) and must be included in a compendium of structures used by speakers of Broad Scots. Properties of spontaneous spoken language apart, many (morpho-)syntactic structures used by Scottish speakers occur in other varieties. The structures are described here as Scots, which is not to be read as ‘unique to Scots’. The data is from various sources: a 220,000 word digitised body of conversations collected in Edinburgh and East Lothian (the Edinburgh Corpus of Spoken Scottish English or ECOSSE); a 12,000 word subset of a body of task-related dialogues produced by West of Scotland speakers – the Map Task corpus or MTC; data from Macaulay (1991), which analyses a set of narratives collected in Ayr; excerpts from narratives in Bennett (1992), excluding the narratives from Highland speakers; data in Häcker (1999); and data obtained by elicitation tests. Murray (1873), and Wilson (1915) were consulted for structures used or recognised by the oldest speakers. The audio tapes contain about 90 hours of conversation. The paper steers clear of the question of literary Scots and focuses on current spoken language in the Central Lowlands. (Treating this as Scots is controversial but it is essential to avoid the myths and wishful thinking that vitiate some ‘grammars of Scots’.) Examples from the Buchan area are excluded, as are examples from dialogue in nineteenth and early twentieth century novels set in various areas of Scotland. This approach yields a more coherent set of data than found in, e.g., Häcker (1999). Older constructions are cited from Murray (1873) and Wilson (1915); they might still be used or recognised by the oldest speakers but are otherwise now extinct.

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The structures described here are part of the everyday language of many speakers in Scotland but differ greatly from the structures of standard written English. They form a different system – see Häcker (1999: 11–12, 241) on this matter. Their survival is worth recording, their role in the construction of Scottish identity and the identity of individuals is central even if sadly neglected by researchers, and they bear directly on education, employment and social exclusion. (This point is ignored by politicians and many educators).

2.

Morphology

2.1.

Irregular verbs

A given verb may have different irregular (strong) forms in Scots and Standard English – seen (Scots) vs saw (Standard English). A given verb may be strong in Standard English but weak in Scots – compare sold (Standard English) and sellt (Scots). The following lists of words are illustrative, not exhaustive. 2.1.1. Past tense forms of verbs brung ‘brought’ come ‘came’ done ‘did’

driv ‘drove’ killt ‘killed’ run ‘ran’

seen ‘saw’ sellt ‘sold’ sunk ‘sank’

taen ‘took’ tellt ‘told’ writ ‘wrote’

gave ‘given’ gotten ‘got’ knew ‘known’ rose ‘risen’

saw ‘seen’ stole ‘stolen’ took ‘taken’ went ‘gone’

2.1.2. Past participles beat ‘beaten’ blew ‘blown’ broke ‘broken’ came ‘come’

feart ‘frightened’ fell ‘fallen’ forgot ‘forgotten’ froze ‘frozen’

Sellt and tellt indicate that irregular verbs can be made regular. Sellt is simply sell + ed (ed → t after l and n). Went occurs as a participle in Dunbar’s poem Celebrations (late fifteenth century). Gave and knew are ‘incomers’; the original verbs are gie, with past tense gied and past participle gien, and ken, with kent as past tense and past participle. 2.2.

Plural nouns

Plural forms such as een (‘eyes’) or shin (‘shoes’) are vanishing. The author last heard shin in West Lothian in 1963, een can still be heard, and treen is long gone.

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Note the widely used wifes, knifes, lifes, leafs, thiefs, dwarfs, loafs, wolfs, all in a regular relationship with wife, etc. 2.3.

Pronouns

Scots has a second person plural yous or yous yins, avoided by educated speakers. Us is informal but widespread instead of me, particularly with verbs such as give, show, and lend (e.g. Can you lend us a quid?). The possessive pronoun mines is analogous to yours, his, etc.; and hisself and theirselves are analogous to yourself, etc. In me and Jimmy are on Monday our two selves (‘by ourselves’), two raises the question whether myself, etc. is one word or two. 2.4.

Demonstrative adjectives

Scots has thae (‘those’) as in thae cakes was awfy dear (‘awfully dear’). Thae is still alive but the most frequent form is now them: them cakes was awfy dear. Wilson (1915) gives thir as the plural of this. There is one occurrence in ECOSSE, from a young East Lothian speaker. 2.5.

Adverbs

As in all Germanic languages (except Standard English), a given form can function as adjective and adverb: they got on real good, drive slow (on a sign at roadworks), drive quick. (With some exceptions, such as fast, Standard English adjectives and adverbs differ in form.)

3.

Syntactic linkage

3.1.

Number agreement

Plural subject nouns usually combine with is and was. Wilson (1915) gives Ma glassiz iz broakun (‘My glasses are broken’) and Is they yours? (‘Are these yours?’). (1)

The windies wiz aw broken. ‘The windows were all broken.’

(2)

The lambs is oot the field. ‘The lambs are out of the field.’

We was is frequent. We is does not occur. Educated speakers avoid the structures in (1) and (2) but many use the existential construction in (3) and (4). (3)

There’s no bottles.

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Jim Miller

Is there any biscuits left?

Macafee (1983) cites you was and goes (and other verbs in -s) as a narrative form: ‘Naw’, I goes, near screaming, you know? (Macafee 1983: 49–50). Macaulay (1991) gives examples of there (‘there’s’) and there were (‘there was’). Wilson (1915: 77) cites the example in (7), and the’re (sic) is mentioned in passing in Grant and Main Dixon’s 1921 Manual of Modern Scots. (5)

There naebody going to force them.

(6)

And there a gate just after you go ower the brig takes you intae this field.

(7)

There no sic a thing hereaway.

3.2.

Measure phrases

Numerals from two upwards regularly combine with singular nouns: five mile long, two foot high, weighs eight stone, two year old. In Macaulay’s data (1991: 110) forty-one out of ninety measure nouns are plural. Minute, day, week, shilling, inch and yard are always plural after numerals greater than 1. The percentage of inflected plurals for other nouns is pound – 89%, month – 86%, year – 68%, ton – 50%, mile – 17%. Wilson (1915: 62) cites three gless o’ whiskay, a guid wheen month (wheen = ‘few’) and five acre, not to mention broth, porridge and kail, which were plural. There is regularly no preposition between the measure nouns bit and drop and a following noun: a bit paper, a bit steel, a drop water. These constructions are typical Germanic. Less is normal with plural count nouns, as in less cars. Note too much more cars (‘many more cars’).

4.

Syntax

4.1.

Negation

In Scots verbs are negated by the independent words no and not, as in (8), or by the suffixes -nae and -n’t, as in (9). (8)

a. She’s no leaving. b. She’s not leaving.

(9)

a. She isnae leaving. b. She isn’t leaving.

In ECOSSE no and not are most frequent with BE – She’s no ‘phoned yet, with ’ll (‘will’) – she’ll no be coming to the party, and with ’ve (‘have’) – I’ve no seen him the day. The no/not construction is in fact the norm with BE, WILL and HAVE in Scots and Scottish English among all speakers. Nae is added to all the modal

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verbs and to do – He doesnae help in the house, She cannae knit. Not and no are the norm in negative interrogatives such as (10). (10)

Are you not coming with us?

The typical Scots tag question has not or no, as in (11). Educated speakers occasionally use amn’t, as in (12). (11)

That’s miles away is it no?

(12)

I’m coming with you amn’t I?

Nae is suffixed to modal verbs if -nae applies to the modal verb: He cannae come to the party (‘he is unable…’). No and not do occur with modal verbs, but apply to the phrase following the modal: will you not put too many on there in case they fall in the street please (Macafee 1983: 47). Not applies to put too many on there. Won’t you put too many... asks for too many to be put on. Clauses without an auxiliary verb, as in I got the job, can be made negative with didn’t or didnae but never is frequently used, as in (13). (13)

a. ...I could’ve got the job...but I telt them I couldnae leave till the end of May so I never got it. [ECOSSE] b. I sat down to that tongue slips essay at 7 o’clock I never got it started till nine. [ECOSSE]

Never is not emphatic. Speakers express the meaning ‘at no time in general’ with never ever. Never and so function as pro-verbs: I added water and it fizzed I done it again and it never (‘didn’t’) (pupil to teacher); You’re not offended? – I am so!; you can’t do that! – I can so! (I will so and I do so are also frequent.) There is an emphatic negative construction with nane, (‘none’) as in (14). The interpretation is that Rab is completely useless at singing. (14)

Rab can sing nane.

Finally, we turn to the relationship between not, -n’t, etc. and the quantifiers all, each and every. Consider (15): (15)

a. It is not democratic, because every member is not consulted on the decision. [radio interview] b. We all don’t have to be there. [conversation]

In context, (15a) clearly meant that some members are consulted but not others; the written English version would be Not every member is consulted…. (15b) was used as justification for not attending a meeting – colleagues of the speaker would be there. The corresponding standard constructions are We don’t all have to be there and Not all of us have to be there.

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Modal verbs

The system of modal verbs in Scots is massively different from that of Standard English. (a) ECOSSE has no occurrences of shall, may and ought, though these modal verbs do occur in writing and in formal announcements, as in the notice This shop shall be open on Monday and in announcements such as This train shall stop at Paisley Gilmour Street, Johnstone,… The source of this usage may be legal. In spoken Scots will marks future tense – We will arrive in the morning, promises – You will have the money tomorrow (‘I promise you’), and occurs in interrogatives – Will I open the window? Permission is expressed by can, get to and get + gerund as in (16). (16)

a. You can have this afternoon off. b. The pupils get to come inside in rainy weather. c. They got going to the match.

Should and not ought is used, but want is frequent, as in (17), uttered by a judo instructor: (17)

You want to come out and attack right away.

(b) In Standard English must expresses conclusions, as in (18a), and obligation, as in (18b): (18)

a. You must be exhausted. ‘I conclude from your appearance that…’ b. You must be at the airport by nine or you will lose your seat. ‘It is necessary for you to be at the airport by nine.’

In ECOSSE must expresses only the conclusion meaning; obligation is expressed by have to and need to. Many speakers of Scots (and Scottish English) use have got to for external compulsion and will have to for milder compulsion, which can even be self-compulsion, as in (19). (19)

I’ll have to write to Carol because she wrote to us six months ago.

Have to is less strong than have got to. It also expresses conclusions, as in (20). (20)

That has to be their worst display ever.

(c) Need behaves like a main verb – Do you need to leave immediately and You don’t need to leave immediately, They’re needing to paint the windows. It expresses obligation, and is equivalent to have to. (21a,b) are typical of answers

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produced by university undergraduates who were asked to complete the sentence I must be back at midnight because ____. (21)

a. I must be back by midnight because I need to switch off my electric blanket. b. I have to go to the library because I need to do my French essay today.

Need can express external compulsion as in (22): (22)

You’d need to go down there and collect her and drop her. [ECOSSE]

In Scots mustn’t expresses ‘I conclude that not’, as in (23). Some grammars of Standard English prescribe can’t: (23)

a. This mustn’t be the place. b. I mustn’t have read the question properly. [conversation]

Obligation is also expressed by supposed to or meant to, as in (24): (24)

a. You’re supposed to leave your coat in the cloakroom. b. You’re meant to fill in the form first.

Meant to also occurs with the meaning ‘It is said that’: The new player is meant to be real fast. (d) Can’t, cannot and cannae all express ‘not have permission to’. To express ‘have permission not to’, speakers of Scots use don’t need to, don’t have to and are not allowed to. (e) Scots has double modals, as in (25): (25)

a. b. c. d.

He’ll can help us the morn/tomorrow. They might could be working in the shop. She might can get away early. Wi his sair foot he would never could climb yon stairs. (Purves 1997: 57)

Note the acceptable interrogative Will he can help us the morn/tomorrow? and the unacceptable *Might they could be working in the shop? There are grounds for supposing that might in (25b,c) is developing into an adverb, syntactically equivalent to maybe: note sentences such as They maybe could be working in the shop, with maybe in the same position as might. Might occasionally combines with should and would, as in (26). Here again might is equivalent in meaning and position to maybe. Note too the parallel between (27a) and (27b). (26)

a. You might would like to come with us. b. You might should claim your expenses. [both from informants from Prestonpans]

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a. He might no could do it. b. He maybe no could do it.

The double modal sequence will can is relatively old – Wilson (1915) mentions it – but may be in decline. In her 1997 Edinburgh University Honours dissertation McIver found that in Orkney the over-60s used the construction but the under-25s neither used it nor recognised all the combinations. However, in a television interview (BBC Scotland, 22/01/2002) a woman in her mid-thirties, born and brought up in Fife, declared once I started I wouldnae could stop. (f) Modal verbs occur after the infinitive marker to, as shown in (28): (28)

a. You have to can drive a car to get that job. b. I’d like to could do that.

According to an informant born and brought up in Galloway, examples such as (29) are common: (29)

Ah would uh could uh done it. ‘I would have been able to do it.’

Apart from the two instances of uh – presumably equivalent to ’ve or have, the unusual feature is could preceded by have. 4.3.

Tense and aspect

4.3.1. Progressive Standard English stative verbs such as know, like or want do not occur in the Progressive. (30)

a. *Kirsty is knowing the answer. b. *Archie is liking this book.

Know behaves in the same way in Scots but other stative verbs occur regularly in the Progressive, as in (31): (31)

a. I wasnae liking it and the lassie I was going wi wasnae liking it. [ECOSSE] b. We werenae really wanting to go last year but they sent us a lot of letters to come. [ECOSSE] c. He’s not understanding a single thing you say. [TV programme] d. They’re not intending opening the bottle tonight surely. [informally recorded in conversation]

In Standard English Soapy is washing the dishes presents the action as in progress; Soapy washes the dishes presents the action as habitual or repeated. In Scots,

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younger speakers and writers use the Progressive where older speakers, including the author, use the simple aspect. The examples in (32) are from essays and examination answers by undergraduates at Edinburgh University. The author would have to use learn in (32a), and forget in (32b). We may be seeing the beginning of a process whereby the Progressive changes into an Imperfective (a change that has affected many languages). (32)

a. Today, educational establishments are still trying to teach a standard. Many schoolchildren are not learning the standard outwith school. b. The code is often changed and students are forgetting the new number. [minutes of Liaison Committee, written by a student]

4.3.2. Past and Perfect Combined with the Progressive, the Perfect refers to recent past time. Kirsty has been working with the Royal Bank is appropriate either if Kirsty is still working with the bank or was working with the bank until quite recently. Speakers of Scots can refer to a recent, completed event by the Past Progressive + there, as in (33): (33)

a. I was (just) speaking to John there. b. I was speaking to John on Friday there.

Deictics such as there point to entities or locations visible to speaker and hearer. In (33a) the speaker presents the event of speaking to John as metaphorically visible to the listener and therefore close in time. The Friday referred to in (33b) is the Friday in the past closest to the time of utterance. The Standard English The electrician has just phoned puts an event in the immediate past. In Scots the same effect is conveyed by The electrician just phoned, with the Simple Past and just. (34) exemplifies the same usage. The person addresses Bob immediately after the latter has bought a round of drinks (Macaulay 1991: 197–198). (34)

And one of the men happened to comment he says “Bob” he says “you forgot the boy” “No” he says “I didnae forget the boy”.

In Standard English the Perfect can refer to an event which someone has experienced at some indefinite time in the past, as in I have visited Prague. In Scots the Simple Past with ever also conveys this experiential meaning, as in (35): (35)

You said you enjoyed fishing – were you ever interested in football? [ECOSSE]

The Perfect in Standard English conveys the result of a past action. In Scots, results of past actions are often expressed by constructions other than the Perfect which

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contain a resultative participle. (36) and (37) exemplify the resultative structure from which the Perfect is supposed to have developed. (36)

You have access to a vein gained and a cardiac analysis done within one minute. [radio discussion]

(37)

I was wanting to borrow her hoover but she’ll have it put away. [conversation]

A common structure is there’s plus resultative participle: (38)

There’s something fallen down the sink.

Speakers often report the completion of an action by referring to its result. The reverse cleft in (39), from A.L. Kennedy’s 1994 novel Looking for the Possible Dance, refers to properties assigned to the letters as the result of a writing event and a posting event. (39)

That’s the letters written and posted.

Example (40), from Macaulay (1991), offers reverse clefts in which the noun phrase following is is the ‘subject’ of the action. (40)

a. But that’s me seen it. ‘I’ve seen it now.’ b. And he says “That you left the school noo Andrew?” ‘…Have you left school now…?’

The equivalent of a pluperfect is in (41): (41)

He just lay doon on the settee and turned over and that was him gone. ‘…he had gone.’

Resultative participles also occur in the construction in (42): (42)

a. I need the car repaired by midday. [conversation] b. She needs collected at four o’clock. [conversation]

4.3.3. Pluperfect tense The Pluperfect is rare in main clauses in Scots, and absent from certain subordinate clauses. The examples in (43) were written by secondary school pupils and ‘corrected’ to the Pluperfect by their teacher. (43)

a. He said his mum had brought him the fireworks but she really didn’t. [hadn’t] b. ...he...was angry I didn’t stay in the café. [hadn’t stayed]

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4.3.4. Tense and aspect in conditional clauses (44a,b) are typical of modern Scots: (44)

a. If she would come to see things for herself... b. If she would have come to see things for herself...

Compare If she came to see things for herself she would understand our difficulties and If she had come to see things for herself, she would have understood our difficulties. Interestingly, (44) was a regular construction in Early Modern English and appears to be making a comeback, as in (45), from The Times: (45)

Suppose further that all Conservative and Labour voters in England would have given the Alliance as their second choice…

The Pluperfect is replaced with had + ’ve (‘have’) in conditional clauses and in the complements of verbs such as wish. See (46a) and (46b): (46)

a. I reckon I wouldnae have been able to dae it if I hadnae ’ve been able to read music. ‘…hadn’t been able…’ b. I wish he’d ’ve complimented me, Roger. ‘…had complimented…’

Häcker (1999) discusses how anteriority (one event preceding another) is expressed by means of once + Simple Past, as in once her children left home, she got a job. 4.4.

Interrogatives

(a) Scots regularly uses how where Standard English uses why: (47)

a. A: Susan, how’s your ankle? B: I can walk on it I think how? ‘…why?’ b. How did you not apply? ‘Why did you not apply?’

(b) Whereabout is used instead of where and is regularly split into where and about. How + about relates to quantity. (48)

a. Whereabout did you see him? b. Where does she stay about? c. How old was he about?

(c) What time...at? frequently replaces when?, as in What time does it finish at? (d) In Standard English, which book? asks about one of a set of known books; what book? asks about one out of the set of all books. In Scots what fulfils both functions, as in (49):

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a. What book have you been buying? [addressee is carrying a book] b. What book is being published next year?

(e) In writing, indirect questions have the constituent order of declarative clauses, as in (50): (50)

The teacher asked what book they had read. (cf. What book have you read?)

In Scots, indirect questions have the constituent order of direct questions, as in (51), which involved no hesitations or changes in intonation but were uttered as one chunk: (51)

a. If they got an eight they had to decide where was the best place to put it. [ECOSSE] b. What happens in the last fifteen minutes depends on how keen are Rumania to win. [football commentary]

(f) Scots has various tag-questions. Speakers use the same tags with repeated auxiliary, as in Standard English, as in (52). (52)

a. John has left, has he no? b. John’s no left, has he?

They also use e, added to both positive and negative declarative clauses, as in (53a,b). Occasionally e no is added to positive clauses. (53)

a. ...we know him quite well by now e? ‘… don’t we’ [recorded informally] b. It’s no too dear e? ‘It’s not too dear, is it?’ [recorded informally]

E occurs in imperatives, converting them to requests, even coaxing requests. In questions the tag asks the addressee to agree with the speaker’s statement; in imperatives the tag asks the addressee to agree with (and act upon) the speaker’s request, as in (54): (54)

a. Let me tie my lace e! [conversation] b. Put it down there e! [conversation]

When added to (54a,b) won’t you makes a request sharper – Let me tie my lace won’t you, Put it down there won’t you, but e always makes a request less sharp and more polite. The author observed the following event in February 2002. A customer (male, over 50) came into a fish and chip shop in Leven, in Fife. The assistant asked what he would like; he replied A mini fish supper e? The e carried interrogative intonation and the Standard English equivalent is Could I have a mini fish supper please?, which is also an interrogative.

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In July 2002 the author overheard a conversation in a barber’s. The barber (male, 30ish) told his colleague he had gone to a particular pub at the weekend. He looked in the mirror at the author and said I like Sambuca e? The eh carried interrogative pitch but the barber could hardly have been asking about his own likes and dislikes. The utterance was interpreted by the author as equivalent to I like Sambuca ken (‘you know’, ‘you see’) or to I like Sambuca with the high rising terminal used by many speakers under 35. The author has heard the same usage from a male speaker in his forties and from a male speaker in his twenties. The latter was describing the location of a landfill site, saying that the Auchendinny to Penicuik road turned right at the bottom of a steep slope and that I stay just opposite e? Again the force of the utterance is I stay opposite you know/you see (and that’s how I know all about the landfill site). A positive clause can be followed by a positive tag, as in (55). The force of these tags in context seems to be that speakers expect a positive answer to their question. (55)

A: Aye that’s cos I didnae use to go. B: Did you start skiving did you? [ECOSSE]

Other tags available in Scots are illustrated in (56). (56f) is from Bennett (1992: 115), (56a,b,f) are from ECOSSE, and the others are from conversation: (56)

a. b. c. d. e. f.

You don’t go for that sort, no? You’ve mentioned this to him, yes? Theyʼre not intending opening the bottle tonight surely? Heʼs not trying to make all of it, not really? Heʼs coming on Monday, right? Have you not heard of rubber trees, no?

(56a) expresses the speaker’s strong confidence that the addressee does indeed not favour that sort of man. (56b) expresses the speaker’s strong confidence that the addressee has mentioned ‘it’ to the other person. Particularly strong confidence is displayed by speakers who begin a declarative clause with sure or e, using interrogative intonation. Note that (57a,b) are not equivalent to ‘Are you sure that Harry supports Celtic?’ but ‘I’m certain you can confirm my confident belief that Harry supports Celtic’: (57)

a. Sure Harry supports Celtic? b. E Harry supports Celtic?

4.5.

The definite article and possessive pronouns

A well-known characteristic of Scots is the use of the with nouns denoting institutions, certain illnesses, certain periods of time, quantifiers such as both, all, most

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and one, games, family relatives and modes of travel. The examples in (58) are merely hints. There are many more examples in Miller (1993: 128), Macaulay (1991: 70–71) and Wilson (1915). Examples of possessive pronouns are given in (59): (58)

the day ‘today’; the morn ‘tomorrow’; the now ‘now’; have the flu; be at the school; through the post ‘by post’; when the one supporter ran on the field; the both of them

(59)

a. Look Cathy, I’m off for my dinner. ‘…to have dinner’ b. to get ready to go up to your work ‘…to work’

4.6.

Comparatives

What intervenes between more than and as much as and a following clause, as in (60): (60)

a. more than what you’d think actually [ECOSSE] b. You’ve as much on your coat as what you have in your mouth. [conversation]

Macaulay (1991: 102) cites and of coorse the traffic wasnae as strong as what it is noo and gives two examples (uttered by his oldest speakers) with nor instead of than: well it was better then nor what I think it is noo and you couldnae get any mair nor two pound. Comparative forms are used only before than: Sue is bigger than Jane. Elsewhere the superlative is used, as in Who is biggest, Sue or Jane? 4.7.

Reflexives

The reflexive pronoun myself is frequently used in speech and writing where Standard English requires just me or I. (61)

a. There wasn’t one policeman on duty at the time and if it hadn’t been for myself, no evidence either. [radio discussion] b. Myself and Andy changed and ran onto the pitch. [school essay]

4.8.

Prepositions and adverbs

The prepositional system of Scots has yet to be studied in detail, but the following points can be made. (a) The typical prepositions in passive clauses are from, frae/fae (‘from’), off (‘of’) and with.

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a. Heh, ah’m gonna get killt fae ma maw. ‘…by my Mum’ b. We were all petrified frae him. [ECOSSE] c. Ah’d rather hae no job than bein beat frae pillar tae post aff a that man. ‘…by that man’ [radio interview 1992] d. I got helped with the midwife. [radio interview 2001]

(b) Off, not from, generally expresses the source of something – I got the book off Alec – and occasionally cause, as in I’m crapping myself off you (‘…because of you’), uttered sarcastically. (c) At, beside and next to replace by in its location sense; past replaces by in its directional sense: They drove past the house. Elicitation examples such as We went to Inverness ____ Stirling elicited via. (d) In and out are not followed by to or of after verbs of movement – She ran in the living room, ...because she’s just walked out the shop with it. Macaulay (1991: 111) gives similar examples. (e) Likewise, down and up do not require to – We’re going down the town, go down the shops. After verbs of location they do not require at – One day I was down the beach, They were up the town yesterday. (f) Outside is followed by of – outside of the school. (g) Miscellaneous examples: shout on someone (‘to someone’), over the phone (‘by phone’), through the post (‘by post’), wait on someone (‘for someone’), fair on someone (‘to someone’), married on someone (‘to someone’), think on something (‘think of/about’). Macaulay (1991) gives examples with to – He worked to Wilson of Troon, I’m labouring to a bricklayer.

5.

Clause constructions

5.1.

Clause structure and function

Clause structure poses two major problems. One is that in written language clauses combine into sentences. When Morag arrived at the house, she found it locked and empty is one sentence consisting of two clauses; Morag arrived at the house – She found it locked and empty is clearly two sentences, each consisting of a single clause. The Scots data described in this paper is informal and spoken and the unit of analysis called the sentence has been abandoned by most analysts of spoken language (see the discussion and references in Miller and Weinert [1998], chapter 2). Clause complexes bring us to the second problem. Clauses are organised into clause complexes, which typically lack the tight syntactic links found in written

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text. Their syntax is unintegrated (see discussion and references in Miller and Weinert [1998: 72–132]). This property is exemplified and discussed in relation to (63)–(64). Consider (63): (63)

You have a little keypad down here which you can use your mouse to click on the keys. [presentation at University of Edinburgh]

The clause in bold looks like a relative clause as it apparently modifies keypad and is introduced by which. The clause, however, has no gaps, contains a full set of subject, direct object and oblique object noun phrases. This particular clause is not embedded in a noun phrase although it could be; the central fact is that it contains no gaps or pronouns linking with keypad. (64) exemplifies another construction: (64)

Everyone knows Helen Liddell how hard she works. [radio discussion]

As the direct object of knows, Helen Liddell is central and salient in the clause complex. The clause how hard she works is syntactically optional but linked with Helen Liddell by she. A written text would have Everyone knows how hard Helen Liddell works. Another example is I’ve been meaning to phone and ask about the new baby and Alan how they’re getting on. The range of unintegrated constructions can be extended but the reader is invited to bear in mind Bernd Kortmann’s introduction (see Kortmann, this volume) and to read Miller and Weinert (1998: 105–121) on relative clauses, WH clefts and headless relative clauses in English and other languages. 5.2.

Relative clauses

(a) Restrictive relative clauses are introduced by that, but also by where: just about that other place where I started. Relative clauses modifying time nouns such as day, month, etc. typically lack that, as in the day she arrived (which is the only construction in ECOSSE. Restrictive relative clauses in the Broad Scots of Glasgow are occasionally introduced by what: like the other birds what takes Dexedrine.) (b) Event relative clauses are introduced by which, never by that, as in my Dad came to an Elton John concert with us which at the time we thought was great. What was thought great was the event of the speaker’s father coming to the concert. (c) Instead of whose, that + possessive pronoun is used: the girl that her eighteenth birthday was on that day was stoned, couldnae stand up (as opposed to the girl whose eighteenth birthday was on that day). (d) Shadow pronouns are typical of complex relative clauses such as the spikes that you stick in the ground and throw rings over them [conversation] but also

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of simpler relative clauses such as It’s something that I keep returning to it and they’re the ones that the teacher thinks they’re going to misbehave [both from radio discussions]. The possessive example in (c) is also an example of a shadow pronoun. The shadow pronoun construction is widespread in nonstandard varieties throughout Europe. (e) Prepositions always occur at the end of the relative clause (the shop I bought it in, not the shop in which I bought it) but are frequently omitted: of course there’s a rope that you can pull the seat back up (with omitted) [ECOSSE] and I haven’t been to a party yet that I haven’t got home the same night (from omitted) [radio discussion]. (f) Existential constructions have no relative pronoun or conjunction; in writing, that or who would be in the square brackets in (65): (65)

a. My friend’s got a brother [ ] used to be in the school. b. There’s only one of us [ ] been on a chopper before.

(g) Non-restrictive relative clauses are notably scarce. MTC and ECOSSE have no non-restrictive relative clauses with who. University undergraduates and 17year-olds at an Edinburgh private school produced 19 non-restrictive relatives with which. Adults and 16–17-year-olds at state schools produced 3 such clauses. Macaulay (1991: 64) comments that in his middle-class interviews 20% of the relative clauses are non-restrictive, in the working class interviews 5%. Instead of non-restrictive relative clauses, speakers of Scots use coordinate clauses: the boy I was talking to last night – and he actually works in the yard – was saying it’s going to be closed down (not the boy…, who actually works in the yard,…). The relative complementiser that is a conjunction which developed historically from a pronoun. Which is following the same path. Consider the second which in (66). (66)

You can leave at Christmas if your birthday’s in December to February which I think is wrong like my birthday’s March and I have to stay on to May which when I’m 16 in March I could be looking for a job.

The second which, in bold, does not link a relative clause to a noun but signals that the preceding chunk of text is connected to the following one. (This construction occurs in Dickens and in Punch throughout the nineteenth century.) Finally in this section, we should note that shadow pronouns occur in another construction that can be heard on radio and television. Consider (67): (67)

a. In New York on Manhattan Island there is a theatre there that... [radio report] b. Out of the three questions we got two of them. [conversation]

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Complement clauses

In English generally some verbs take infinitives, as in (68a), while others take gerunds, as in (68b). Other verbs may take either an infinitive or a gerund, as in (69): (68)

a. We hope to leave next week. (not *we hope leaving...) b. Archie resents spending money on books. (not *Archie resents to spend...)

(69)

The children started to quarrel/quarrelling.

Verbs and adjectives that take either infinitives or gerunds in Scots are shown in (70). (70)

a. b. c. d. e.

It’s difficult to know/knowing how to start this letter. They always continue to work/working until the bell goes. He started to talk/talking to his friend. It was daft to leave/leaving the puppy in the house. Try to eat less/eating less if you are putting on weight.

Elicitation tests showed that for (70a–e) Scottish pupils had (statistically) significant numbers of gerunds while the English pupils did not. Some Scottish pupils used only gerunds. Teachers preferred infinitives, with English teachers showing a stronger preference than Scottish teachers. In Scots the infinitive is regularly marked by for to. Macaulay (1991: 106) gives the examples in (71): (71)

a. We had the clear road for to play on. [infinitive relative] b. You donʼt need to faw ten thousand feet for to get killt. [purpose/ result] c. You werenae allowed at this time for to go and take another job on. [verb complement] d. But my own brothers was all too old for to go. [comparison]

His youngest working-class speakers have no for to infinitives, whereas the oldest two use them regularly. The construction may be in decline. Some verbs are followed by and plus a verb phrase, as in (72): (72)

a. Try and do your homework by tomorrow. ‘try to do…’ b. Remember and bring her back by 12 o’clock. c. She tells us to mind and dae what we’re tellt. ‘…to remember…’

The television comedy show Chewing the fat uses the catchphrase gonna no dae that, which is probably a distortion of go and no dae that, the negative of go and

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dae that (right the noo). Infinitives can follow away: I’m away to the shops, I’m away to ask her to dance. 5.4.

Adverbial clauses

Adverbial clauses in general are less frequent (in speech) than relative and complement clauses. The following specific points are important. (a) Because or cause clauses typically follow the main clause – We lent them our car because the garage couldn’t fix theirs right away; in writing they both precede and follow the main clause – Because the garage couldn’t fix theirs right away we lent them our car. Preceding because clauses act as signposts, whereas following the main clause they merely provide a reason (see the reference to Chafe in Miller and Weinert [1998]). (b) Clauses of condition and time also tend to follow the main clause. In ECOSSE and MTC many if clauses are not straightforward adverbial clauses of condition but convey an instruction – if you just draw the line 2 cms below the cave – and constitute a complete discourse. Conversely, imperative clauses can express conditions: tell a lie an they’ll believe you (Häcker 1999: 119). (c) There are no concession clauses introduced by although. Speakers in ECOSSE concede points with but clauses or with clauses containing clause-final though – They’re not going to shut the factory – they’re making a loss though. Another construction for the conceding of points is exemplified in (73). (73)

But eh customs is a’ changed noo. You still see them in Glasgow right enough. (Bennett 1992: 110–111)

(d) Consider If Shona is coming to the party, I’m going to stay at home. The if clause is starting point or theme and therefore prominent. Another common construction is see if Shona is coming to the party – I’m going to stay at home and see when we get into the gardens, can we go up the tower? This construction highlights the time or condition and breaks the integration of subordinate and main clause; the if and when clauses are complements of see. (e) Adverbial clauses of time can be introduced by frae or fae (‘from’) instead of since, as in (74) from Macaulay (1991). The author has heard similar examples in West Lothian. (74)

a. My it’s a while fae I heard that. ‘…since I heard that’ b. The first time I ever was idle fae I left the school. ‘…since I left the school’

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(f) Time clauses can be introduced by tae (‘to’) instead of till, as in (75a), from Macaulay (1991). To or tae can also replace till as a preposition, as in (75b): (75)

a. Wait here tae I come oot. ‘…till I come out’ b. Well you can hear her aw over the shop she just says you’ve nae right cos i cannae come in to this time. [ECOSSE]

Häcker (1999: 172–173) suggests that adverbial time clauses introduced by till have a purposive meaning, as in (76): (76)

a. Turn on the wireless till we hear the news. b. An that wis wait till I think where that [was]. ‘…wait so that I can think where that was.’

Wait in (76b) is an atelic verb and the till clause can be interpreted as a time clause setting a limit to a stretch of time. Turn on in (76a) is telic but has the interpretation ‘turn on and leave turned on for a certain length of time’ – note the (devised) example they turned on the water till everyone got their buckets filled (and then they turned it off again). The purposive component of the interpretation can be seen as coming from a felicity condition on commands: the speaker(s) really want a situation to be brought about. (g) Häcker (1999: 161, 192) comments on the use of gerunds introduced by with to express reason, manner or accompanying circumstances. (77) is from ECOSSE: (77)

But he didnae like to take it [a job] with him being a friend.

5.5.

Non-finite main or adverbial clauses

Surprise, disappointment or a strong emotion can be expressed by non-finite clauses introduced by and: He wouldn’t help and him a minister too!, She’s taking in lodgers and the house not even hers, He’s gone off on holiday and her still in the hospital. It is unclear whether these clauses are main or adverbial.

6.

Organisation of discourse

Scots has a range of devices for highlighting items. The devices belong to speech and many are not unique to Scots. (a) Speakers often announce a new topic, possibly contrasting with another topic, by means of left-dislocation, a noun phrase followed by a complete clause. Left-dislocation is not primarily associated with planning problems; it occurs frequently

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with simple noun phrases with no pause between the noun phrase and the clause. The noun phrase may be introduced in an existential clause, as in (78c): (78)

a. It’s not bad – ma Dad he doesn’t say a lot. [ECOSSE] b. And the minister, ye just gave him five shillings. But on the way out we met a wee girl and we gave her the christening piece. [Bennett 1992: 69–70] c. And there’s one girl she’s a real extrovert. [ECOSSE]

The initial noun phrase can be quite complex – well another maths teacher that I dinnae get he must’ve corrected my papers – or may be separated from the main clause by a subordinate clause, as in (79): (79)

But a lot of people, although they didnae have a gift, it was a coin that they would give them. [Bennett 1992: 48]

(b) English possesses the IT cleft, WH cleft and reverse WH cleft constructions exemplified in (80): (80)

a. b. c. d.

It was Aongais that left. [IT cleft] What I want is a large cup of coffee. [WH cleft] That’s what you should read. [Reverse WH cleft] What he does is interrupt all the time. [WH cleft]

The IT cleft picks out an entity from a set of possible candidates – Aongais as opposed to Ruaridh. The second clause, that left, is a relative clause. There may be no complementiser, as in (81), from Macaulay (1991: 121). (81)

a. It was Jimmy Brown was the fireman. b. And it was my mother was daein it.

77% of Macaulay’s IT clefts are in the working class interviews. IT clefts in general are rare in ECOSSE and MTC but interrogative IT-clefts occur regularly in ECOSSE in WH questions, as in (82): (82)

a. b. c. d.

Where is it he works again? Who is it that’s been murdered? Which part of Leith is it you’re from? What was it he did? Was doing law or something.

The IT clefts both make the question less abrupt and highlight the WH word. (82a– d) are not contrastive, though other examples are, such as Was that Malcolm that did it? [ECOSSE]. One example is a YES-NO question – Is that you skive skipping off this afternoon? The construction awaits detailed investigation. The most common WH cleft in the data has the structure of What we’re doing we’re hanging them up to drouth (= ‘dry’). A headless relative clause – what

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we’re doing is followed by a complete main clause we’re hanging them up to drouth. In MTC WH clefts finish off a section of discussion and point forward. In ECOSSE WH clefts finish off a section of narrative and move it on to the next section. Reverse WH clefts are frequent in MTC and occur in ECOSSE. They highlight some point that has been agreed and draw a line under a section of discussion but do not point forward. (For a detailed discussion of clefts see Weinert and Miller [1996] and Miller and Weinert [1998: 263–306].) Many discussions in MTC close with remarks such as that’s where you should go. In Macaulay (1991: 78–79) sections of narrative are closed by reverse clefts introduced by that or this followed by a pronoun and a modifying phrase, as in (83): (83)

a. So that was me on the rope-splicing. b. That was him idle. ‘laid off work’ c. And this was him landed with a broken leg.

Macaulay (1991: 91) discusses right-dislocation but its discourse function is unclear and there seem to be two constructions. One is exemplified in (84): (84)

a. In fact he offered me a job Mr Cunningham. b. I was asking John if he ever heard of it Cabbies Kirk.

In (84a–b) the right-dislocated noun phrases, Mr Cunningham, and Cabbies Kirk, appear to confirm the referents of pronouns inside the clause rather than highlight them. In the other construction, exemplified in (85), the right-dislocated noun phrase is a pronoun repeating a pronoun inside the clause. The referent is not only confirmed but reinforced and highlighted: (85)

a. He was some man him. b. But she was a harer her. c. Oh it was a loss it.

Right-dislocation is less frequent than left-dislocation and almost absent from Macaulay’s middle-class interviews. Macaulay suggests that middle-class speakers are more likely to use emphatic stress than the repeated pronouns. (c) Various focusing devices highlight items (or propositions) being introduced into the discourse. See in (86a) is close in meaning to the perception verb see, more distant in meaning in (86b): (86)

a. See those old houses...this area was all houses like that right round. [ECOSSE] b. A: There’s a car park. B: Aye – see I hate going in there. [ECOSSE]

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See highlights those old houses in (86a) and I hate going in there in (86b). In the MTC, examples such as see the bridge below the forest are always understood as questions: the reply is uhuh or aye or right. See does not normally occur in the imperative except in special phrases such as see here! I’ve had enough of this nonsense! In the MTC speakers use see when they treat a landmark as given. See always takes a definite noun phrase: see the fast-flowing river but not *see a fast-flowing river. Items treated as new are introduced by a, e.g. Can you see a fast-flowing river? or Do you see a fast-flowing river? See can also highlight entire clauses, as in 5.4.d. Example (87) is from the MTC. (87)

See if you go straight down but not go straight to the aeroplane right see where the see where the pilot would go that wee bit.

In the MTC, given items are introduced by means of interrogative clauses with know: know the bridge across the fast-flowing river. *Know a bridge… is not possible. Know is equivalent to the Scots ken (‘know’); you can ken someone and ken how to do something. Ken can highlight new items, including new topics of conversation: (88)

a. Ken John Ewan – he breeds spaniels. [conversation] b. The estate up at Macmerry – ken there’s a big estate there – it’s got a gamekeeper. [ECOSSE]

Ken in (89) introduces a proposition by way of explanation. (89)

She’s on the machine until they can get another kidney for her – ken to have a transplant. [ECOSSE]

Macaulay (1991: 160) says that ken often accompanies background or orientation clauses (as in 89) and marks interactional solidarity. That is, checking that your partner in conversation knows what you are talking about is a good way of bringing them into the conversation. Macaulay (1991: 145) notes that you know occurs at almost the same rate in the speech of his middle-class and working-class speakers. The thing is and thing is highlight properties and propositions. (90)

a. But the thing is – at our age what is there what sort of facilities can you provide. b. Thing is he’s watching the man he’s not watching the ball. c. The thing about school is that you can get them to relax.

(d) There are two constructions with like, both discussed in detail in Miller and Weinert (1998). The older construction has like in clause-final position and is used by speakers to provide explanations and forestall objections as in (91): (91)

You had a wooden spile – you bored on the top of the barrel...and then you had ready a spile, which was a wooden cone about that length...and

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a soft wood naturally was porous and it would help to get this froth to let it work down – you had to be very careful you didn’t take it right down like/it went flat. [ECOSSE] The inference being countered by the like in (91) is “Surely the beer would go flat if you bored a hole in the top of the barrel?”. The speaker points out that this inference is incorrect, because the operation was carried out very carefully, precisely to prevent the beer going flat. Similar like-final clauses are uttered by characters speaking non-standard English in Trollope’s novels (1860 and 1870s) and in Dorothy Sayer’s novels, set in East Anglia in the thirties. Like occurs in interrogative clauses, as in (92): (92)

A1: B1: A2: B2: A3:

Got a bairn have you? Aye – Nicole’s eh three. Three? Aye – I was married young. Aye – you must have been – how old are you like?

(92) has emphatic stress on are. A receives the surprising information that B’s daughter is three and suddenly suspects that he has wrongly inferred B’s age. Other examples of interrogatives with like can be paraphrased as IT clefts: did you stick it down with Gloy like? (‘was it with Gloy that you stuck it down?’). ECOSSE has one occurrence of likesae, used by the research assistant’s brother. Both were from north Edinburgh (not Leith itself but close to Leith). In his novel Trainspotting Irvine Welsh consistently uses the above construction with likesae instead of like. In the second, more recent construction like occurs in any position except at the end of clauses. (93)

a. I mean and like you’ve not got any obstacles here have you? [MTC] b. To the lefthand side of East Lake? Like the very far end of East Lake?

Like does not occur at pauses or where the speaker has planning problems. It is regularly equivalent to WH or IT clefts – note what I want to ask is – you’ve not got any obstacles here? and is it the very far end of East Lake I go to? Like regularly highlights items constituting an explanation, as in (94): (94)

Like I knew I couldnae apply for Edinburgh because I didnae have an O level language so I just didnae do it.

7.

Conclusion

This paper has set out the major syntactic and discourse structures of modern Scots. Unfortunately there has been little study of Scots grammar since the late seven-

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ties. New bodies of data on computer, such as the SCOTS archive at the University of Glasgow, have to be exploited. The systematic collection of data by cassette recorder and elicitation techniques has yet to be undertaken. Map Task dialogues help to build up our knowledge of structures currently in use but represent a different genre from spontaneous conversation. Some accounts of Scots are based on dialogues in novels; it is essential to determine which structures are peculiar to such dialogues and which are still in active use. But in active use where? There are no detailed accounts of the morphology and syntax of current Buchan Scots nor about the grammatical differences between, say, the Scots spoken in Edinburgh and the Lothians, Glasgow, Ayrshire, the Borders, and Dumfries and Galloway. What is the linguistic situation in cities, towns and villages? How is grammar and discourse organisation affected by variation in setting and in topic and in the socio-economic status, age and gender of speakers? The participants in the ECOSSE conversations and the MTC are now approaching forty and thirty respectively. What is the spoken language of the 15–25 age group? What do people write in diaries, in personal letters, in work reports and so on? There is a small army of questions; where is the small army of researchers?

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Bennett, Margaret 1992 Scottish Customs from the Cradle to the Grave. Edinburgh: Polygon. Grant, William and James M. Dixon 1921 Manual of Modern Scots. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Häcker, Martina 1999 Adverbial Clauses in Scots. A Semantic-Syntactic Study. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Macafee, Caroline 1983 Glasgow. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Macaulay, Ronald K.S. . 1991 Locating Dialect in Discourse. Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press. McIver, Mairi 1997 Modals in Orkney English. Honours thesis. Department of Linguistics. Edinburgh University. Miller, Jim 1993 The grammar of Scottish English. In: Milroy and Milroy (eds.), 99–138. 2003 Syntax and discourse in modern Scots. In: John Corbett, Derrick J. McClure and Jane Stuart-Smith (eds.), The Edinburgh Companion to Scots, 72–109. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.

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Miller, Jim and Regina Weinert 1998 Spontaneous Spoken Language: Syntax and Discourse. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Murray, James A.H. 1873 The Dialect of the Southern Counties of Scotland. London: Philological Society. Purves, David 1997 A Scots Grammar. Scots Grammar and Usage. Edinburgh: The Saltire Society. Weinert, Regina and Jim Miller 1996 Clefts in spoken discourse. Journal of Pragmatics 25: 173–202. Wilson, James 1915 Lowland Scotch, as Spoken in the Lower Strathearn District of Perthshire. London: Oxford University Press.

Irish English: morphology and syntax Markku Filppula

1.

Introduction

The morphology and syntax of Irish English (IrE) follow in the main the patterns found in the other British Isles Englishes. This is particularly true of ‘educated’ IrE, which is not surprising considering that (British) Standard English has traditionally provided the principal norm for the teaching of English in Irish schools. However, the regional dialects and also urban working-class varieties present a very different picture. They contain many features which distinguish these varieties from most other regional or social dialects of British English (BrE). This is due to four main factors which have affected the development of both southern and northern IrE: 1. Conservatism, which means retention of some features of earlier ‘mainstream’ English, now mostly archaic or defunct in BrE; 2. dialect contact with other varieties of English spoken especially in the British Isles; of particular importance here is the diffusion of influences from the Scottish varieties of English to northern IrE (some of these are also found in the southern varieties); 3. contact influences from Irish, the indigenous language of Ireland, which is still spoken in some parts of Ireland and has for centuries exercised a considerable amount of ‘substratal’ influence upon IrE; though gradually fading away, the vestiges of this influence can still be heard even in the urban varieties of IrE but, naturally, they are better preserved in those dialects which are spoken in, or close to, the earlier and present-day Irish-speaking areas; 4. universal features associated with second-language acquisition in the kind of intense language shift conditions which existed in Ireland especially from the early nineteenth century onwards and which were characterised by a fairly rapid shift involving large numbers of speakers and general lack of formal schooling up until the latter part of the nineteenth century. The combined effect of these factors makes IrE an interesting mixture of linguistic features derived from one or the other of the mentioned sources. As will be seen, the distinctive nature of IrE is much more visible in syntax than in morphology (which stands to reason in view of the relative poverty of English morphology). The following discussion of the syntax and morphology of IrE is based on data drawn from a number of sources, all representing authentic speech recorded from

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Irishmen and Irishwomen in various parts of Ireland. The main source for what is here called ‘southern’ IrE consists of recordings made by myself and a number of other people in four different areas: Dublin City, Co. Wicklow, Co. Clare and Co. Kerry (for details of the corpus, see Filppula 1999, chapter 4). For the ‘northern’ IrE varieties, which comprise different varieties of Ulster English and Ulster Scots, I have relied on the so-called Northern Ireland Transcribed Corpus of Speech (henceforth ‘NITCS’ for short; see Kirk 1992 for details). In addition to these, previous studies of IrE, either spoken or written, and my own informal observations on language usage in Ireland over the years have provided useful data for the description undertaken below.

2.

Tense-aspect-modality systems

The tense-aspect-modality (TMA for short) systems form an area which perhaps most clearly distinguishes IrE from the other British Isles Englishes. This is what could be expected, given the general cross-linguistic evidence from other varieties which have emerged in conditions of intense language contact and shift. The following discussion will focus on four TMA subsystems which all involve features deviating from Standard English (StE), and to varying degrees, from other varieties of English: perfective aspect, progressive aspect, habitual aspect, and imperatives. 2.1.

Perfective aspect

The overall coding of tense-aspect distinctions in IrE is more complex than, for example, in StE. On the one hand, IrE makes prominent use of the present and past tenses for perfective aspect meanings which are in other dialects expressed by distinct forms such as the so-called periphrastic have perfect. On the other, IrE has developed, or preserves from earlier English, separate forms for some temporal and aspectual meanings; some of these forms are either not found or no longer used in other varieties. One can distinguish as many as six different categories of IrE perfects, which are described and illustrated below with examples drawn from the above-mentioned databases. The localities and name of the database as well as speaker-initials are given in brackets after each example. Note further that curly brackets are here used to indicate questions or other contributions by the interviewer. (i) the indefinite anterior perfect, which denotes events or states of affairs which take place at an unspecified point in a period leading up to the moment of utterance: (1)

Were you ever in Kenmare? (Kerry: J.F.) ‘Have you ever been...?.’

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{And do you go up to see it [a car race]?} I never went till it yet. (NITCS: CM119)

(ii) the after perfect, which typically refers to events or states in the (more or less) recent past: (3)

You’re after ruinin’ me. (Dublin: M.L.) ‘You have (just) ruined me.’

(4)

And when the bell goes at six you just think you were only after going over, and you get out and up again. (NITCS: OM53)

(iii) the medial-object perfect, which focuses on the result, or resulting state, of an action rather than the action itself; verbs used in this way are typically dynamic and transitive, as in (5) from northern IrE, but occasional instances of other types also occur especially in the conservative rural varieties, such as the verb of ‘inert perception’ or ‘intellectual activity’ in (6): (5)

Take your shoes off then {aye}, and go round the stations on your bare feet. And you... you eat nothing till you’re, have the stations made. (NITCS: OM51)

(6)

I have it forgot. (Wicklow: T.F.) ‘I have forgotten it.’

(iv) the be perfect, which is the intransitive counterpart of the resultative medialobject perfect described above, and is used with verbs of motion or change such as go, change, leave or die: (7)

I think the younger generations are gone idle over it. (Kerry: M.C.)

(8)

...particularly the valley up the, mm, Cranagh road {mm}, is drastically changed, and improved for the better. (NITCS: JM51)

(9)

{How many brothers and sisters you have, and what they’re all doing?} They’re not left school yet. (NITCS: EM20)

(v) the extended-now perfect, which refers to events or states initiated in the past but continuing at the moment of utterance: (10)

I’m not in this [caravan] long... Only have this here a few year. (Wicklow: D.M.) ‘I haven’t been/lived...’

(11)

{Well, how long are you [have you been] in here now?} Oh, I’m in, I’m in here about four months. (NITCS: I PT91)

(vi) the standard have perfect, which can express all of the above meanings and is so used in StE as well as in educated, especially written, IrE:

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And we haven’t seen one for years round here. (Wicklow: J.N.)

Note that perfective aspect has here been understood as being based on both forms and meanings. Thus, although the indefinite anterior perfect, for example, assumes the form of the past tense, the kind of uses illustrated under (i) are here considered to belong to the category of perfects and perfective aspect on the basis of their meanings; there is that link between the present and the past which is normally considered a defining criterion for perfects. Similarly, the IrE extended-now perfect, although it formally coincides with the present tense, which in StE normally refers to present time, differs from the latter in that the extended-now perfect refers to some state of affairs or process which has been initiated in the past but which continues up to the present moment (or moment of utterance). The presence of a durative time adverbial further contributes to the perfective aspect reading. Of the Irish English perfects, the after perfect is clearly the most stereotypical and is avoided by educated speakers at least in formal contexts; on the other hand, it is freely used in informal contexts and by working-class and rural speakers in all parts of the country. As regards its origins, it is more than likely modelled on the corresponding Irish tar éis/tréis construction. By contrast, both the indefinite anterior and the extended-now perfects are quite common even in educated speech, and occasionally occur even in writing, e.g. in newspapers. Both have Irish parallels but can also derive from similar perfects used in earlier English. In the written mode, the standard have perfect is of course the norm and is also used increasingly in present-day spoken ‘common’ or ‘supraregional’ IrE. Finally, the medial-object perfect and especially the be perfect are clearly recessive features; both are paralleled by Irish usages, but again may equally be retentions from early Modern English. (For further discussion, see Harris 1984a, 1993; Kallen 1989, 1994; Filppula 1999.) 2.2.

Progressive aspect

Turning next to progressive aspect and the uses of the so-called progressive or -ing form (PF for short) in IrE, one is struck by the relative freedom with which the PF can be used in IrE dialects, both as a marker of progressivity (as in StE) and in a number of other contexts. Of the latter, the most striking is the use of the PF with stative verbs, such as those denoting ‘intellectual states’ (or ‘cognition’), ‘states of emotion or attitude’, other states of ‘being’ and ‘having’ (so-called relational verbs), and ‘stance’. These are illustrated in the following: (i) intellectual states (or ‘cognition’): (13)

There was a lot about fairies long ago... but I’m thinkin’ that most of ‘em are vanished. (Clare: M.R.) ‘...but I think/believe that...’

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(14)

They’re not believin’ it. (North Roscommon; cited in Henry 1957: 169)

(15)

I was knowing your face. (North Roscommon; cited in Henry 1957: 169)

(ii) states of emotion or attitude: (16)

Well, of course, Semperit is a, an Austrian firm... They are not caring about the Irish people, they are only looking after their own interest, ... (Dublin: M.L.)

(17)

There was a school in Ballynew, and they were wantin’ to build a new school. (Clare: C.O’B.)

(iii) other states of being and having (‘relational verbs’): (18)

I think two of the lads was lost at sea during the War. They were belonging to the, them men here. (Dublin: P.L.)

(19)

The money that they had saved they were actually waiting on it then... They were depending on it. (NITCS: PT14)

(20)

I think they’re more or less to blame themselves, because they’re keeping far too man(y), much stock. (NITCS: BC24)

(iv) stance: (21)

[They] call it the Golf Stream... And that’s flowing into the Atlantic. It is flowing into the Atlantic Ocean. (Kerry: M.C.)

(22)

And it [a road] is going a way up...Up into the mountain. And it is leading up to this...old graveyard. (Kerry: M.McG.)

Besides stative verbs, another important context of use of the PF is with inherently dynamic verbs in contexts where StE would use the simple present- or past-tense form or (in past-time contexts) used to + infinitive. The meaning in these is clearly one of habitual activity, as in (23) below. (v) habitual activity (with dynamic verbs): (23)

...but there, there’s no bogland here now. {Yeah. And do people go up there to cut turf?} They were going there long ago but the roads got the, like everything else, they got a bit too-o rich and... (Kerry: M.C.)

Thirdly, the PF is commonly found after the auxiliaries would/‘d/ used (to) indicating habitual activity. In StE and in other regional varieties of English English (EngE), the simple infinitive is clearly preferred in these contexts. For example: (24)

So, when the young lads’d be going to bathing, like, they’d have to go by his house, and they used to all... (Clare: M.F.)

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But they, I heard my father and uncle saying they used be dancing there long ago, like, you know. (Clare: M.F.)

Fourthly, the PF is frequently used with other auxiliaries, such as do/does and will/ ’ll. The former usage is generally considered unique to IrE and will be discussed in greater detail in the next section. The latter, exemplified in (26), is a general vernacular feature found in other varieties, too. (26)

...this fellow now, Jack Lynch, that’s going to come into power now, that he’ll, he’ll be forgetting the North. (Wicklow: M.K.)

Fifthly, in IrE – like in many other varieties of English today – , the PF is extremely common with verbs of saying and telling, especially in past-time contexts: (27)

Ah, they were great old days. But now, anyhow, things went on, and I got wiser meself, and as I was saying you, I start selling for meself. (Dublin: M.L.)

(28)

And that was his fault, and he went off then, I heard since that, I wasn’t talking to him since. And he has bought two pups. (Wicklow: J.F.)

The free use of the PF in IrE quite plausibly derives from Irish, which relies heavily on the so-called verbal noun construction in similar contexts; another factor promoting its use is the continually increasing use of the PF in English itself . The ‘substratum’ hypothesis gains further support from the fact that some Welsh English (WelE) and Scottish English dialects (ScE; especially those spoken in the Hebrides) display the same tendency, probably triggered by the same kind of substratum influence from Welsh and Scottish Gaelic. 2.3.

Habitual aspect

Habitual aspect is here understood as a general concept, which subsumes under it iterative, frequentative, and generic states or activities. All involve situations which are viewed as being characteristic of an extended period of time rather than incidental properties of any given moment. Some means of expression of habitual aspect have already been touched on in the previous section, namely the use of the progressive form with dynamic verbs, the auxiliaries would/‘d/ used [to] followed by the -ing form, and the auxiliary do/does used with the same form. An example of the last-mentioned is given in (29): (29)

Yeah, that’s, that’s the camp. Military camp they call it... They do be shooting there couple of times a week or so. (Wicklow: D.M.)

As noted above, this construction is one of the hallmarks of vernacular IrE and not found in other varieties spoken in the British Isles (it does occur, though, in some Caribbean varieties). Besides the be + V-ing pattern, as in (29), another common

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pattern consists of do(es) followed by the infinitive form of a lexical verb, as in (30), or by be + an adjective or a noun, as in (31): (30)

Two lorries of them [turf] now in the year we do burn. (Kerry: M.C.)

(31)

They does be lonesome by night, the priest does, surely. (Clare: M.R.)

All of these forms are highly stigmatised and carefully avoided in educated speech. Yet they can be regularly heard in the speech of urban working-class people and in southern rural dialects of IrE. Northern IrE dialects, including Ulster Scots, favour somewhat different constructions: be or be’s (sometimes also spelt bees) followed either by the -ing form or by an adjective or a noun. As with the do (be) constructions, the meaning is habitual or generic (see Harris 1984b; Kallen 1989; Robinson 1997). Examples from the NITCS are: (32)

{Where do they [tourists] stay, and what kind of pastimes do they have?} Well, they stay, some of them, in the forestry caravan sites. They bring caravans. They be shooting, and fishing out at the forestry lakes. (NITCS: MC16)

(33)

{And who brings you in [to Mass]?} We get, Mrs Cullen to leave us in {ahah}. She be’s going, and she leaves us in, too. (NITCS: EM70)

(34)

{And what do you do in your play centre? Do you think it’s a good idea in the holidays?} It’s better, because you be’s bored doing nothing {mm} at home. (NITCS: KO121)

In both southern and northern IrE, the negated forms involve non-standard use of the auxiliary do, as can be seen from the following examples: (35)

Well, it’s [oats] generally cut, but sometimes it gets, it doesn’t be up, to the mark, don’t you know, it’d be bad, like oats, if you met a bad year... (Wicklow: J.F.)

(36)

And they k(eep), they always keep the horse up above. It doesn’t be usually down in the field now. (NITCS: SM109)

While the southern IrE forms have by many scholars been ascribed to the influence of Irish (see especially Henry 1957; Bliss 1972), there is less agreement about the origins of the northern be/bees forms, with dialect diffusion from the Scottish dialects presenting itself as another possible source (for discussion, see e.g. Montgomery and Gregg 1997). Further parallels to the IrE patterns can be found in Welsh English and in some conservative south-western dialects of EngE, but in contrast to IrE, they generally involve the uninflected form of do followed by the infinitive. The possible Celtic influence on all of these varieties has long been a

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subject of debate but has turned out to be hard to substantiate (for discussion, see Filppula 1999, section 6.3.). 2.4.

Imperatives

IrE dialects follow, with some exceptions, the ‘mainstream’ or standard patterns to express the imperative mood. The most salient feature of IrE in this category is the so-called overt subject imperative with inversion. This appears to be a special feature of northern IrE and especially Belfast English, as is shown by Henry (1995). Her examples include the following: (37)

Go you there. (Henry 1995: 52)

(38)

Read you that book. (Henry 1995: 55)

As Henry notes, some northern IrE speakers accept only examples like (37), which involves an intransitive verb of motion, whereas others also find transitive examples such as (38) usable. This she explains by the existence of different ‘grammars’ with slightly different ‘verb-raising’ properties or ‘settings’ even within Belfast English. Another noteworthy feature is the imperative construction with let. However, this is rare in present-day speech and, in fact, did not occur in my databases at all. Bliss (1972) discusses this feature, which he considers to be unique to IrE and most probably modelled on the corresponding Irish imperative paradigm. As an illustration, he provides examples like (39): (39)

Let ye listen to what he said. (Bliss 1972: 72)

Finally, mention should be made of the negative imperative construction involving the use of the auxiliary do, followed by be + V-ing (cf. the discussion on the auxiliary do above). As the following examples show, it occurs in both southern and northern IrE: (40)

Whether it is Lutherarians or Protestant or Catholics, live up to it. Don’t be guessing, or don’t be doubting. (Kerry: M.C.)

(41)

Oh, I enjoyed every minute of it. Lord, we used to have some times. Oh, don’t be talking {LAUGHS}. (NITCS: LD5)

3.

Auxiliaries

The most distinctive feature of both north and south IrE in the modal auxiliary system is the almost complete non-occurrence of shall (and shan’t) in vernacular forms of speech; even in educated speech shall occurs only rarely. Against this

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background, it was not surprising that there were no occurrences of shall in the NITCS and only one in the southern IrE corpus. This was to be expected on the basis of the previous studies of IrE, going back to the famous late nineteenth-century treatise by Dr. Molloy, entitled The Irish Difficulty, Shall and Will (Molloy 1897). The perennial problems faced by the Irish in the ‘correct’ use of these auxiliaries are also treated by P.W. Joyce ([1910] 1988), who mentions the Irish predilection for will even in interrogative phrases like Will I sing you a song? Joyce refers here to the similar American usage, which he considers to derive from the influence of the Irish immigrants to America (Joyce 1988: 77). As a predictable corollary to the avoidance of shall, there is a clear preference for would at the expense of should in any other than the obligation meaning. Thus, instead of phrases like I should think/say most Irish people, north and south, would say I would think/say, as in the following example from the NITCS: (42)

Well, they have table tennis, and they have bowls, and, eh, darts. That’s the three main sports, I would think. (NITCS: BC44)

In some northern IrE dialects the negation forms take the suffix -nae (shouldnae/ wouldnae etc.), which will be discussed below in section 4.3. Ought (to) is another auxiliary which is virtually non-existent in vernacular IrE dialects, including Ulster Scots (see Robinson 1997: 171 on the latter). No instances were found in the NITCS nor in my southern IrE materials, which suggests that ought (to) is confined to the more formal, written styles. The so-called primary verbs be, have, and do also exhibit some features peculiar to the Irish dialects of English. Be and do have already been dealt with in the section on habitual aspect above. Of their other, main-verb uses, suffice it to mention here that IrE allows the interrogative form amn’t (I) in tag questions. Have as a main verb is in conservative IrE often used on its own without got, and in interrogative or negative contexts, without the do-auxiliary, as in the following example from the NITCS where not even the interviewer’s use of do-support prompts the informant to use the same pattern: (43)

{What kind of farms do they have, mostly?} They haven’t all that much. They just have cows, and... (NITCS: SM99)

4.

Negation

Three features can be singled out as ones which lend vernacular forms of IrE some distinctive flavour. The first is, in fact, the least distinctive, as it is shared by most non-standard varieties of English, namely multiple negation or ‘negative concord’, as it will be called here. By contrast, the two others are phenomena which have a much more restricted geographical distribution. One will here be labelled as ‘fail-

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ure of negative attraction’; as will be seen below, it probably has its roots in Irish. The other is something which testifies to the old linguistic connections between Scotland and Ireland and has to do with the northern IrE uses of the negative word or suffix (-)nae. 4.1.

Negative concord

IrE dialects are no different from other non-standard varieties with respect to the use of negative concord. Thus, two or more negative items may occur in the same clause, as in the following examples drawn from the northern and southern dialects: (44)

Och, I don’t know just, they’re just not the same, nor never will be like the old people. (NITCS: LD77)

(45)

You’ve not heard of that nothing? (Kerry: M.C.)

Rather than being a retention from the earlier stages of English, which allowed negative concord, or a result of transfer from Irish, this feature of IrE is best considered a general vernacular feature widespread in other varieties of English, too. 4.2.

Failure of negative attraction

The term ‘negative attraction’ refers to a phenomenon of StE which concerns the behaviour of so-called non-assertive and universal pronouns or determiners such as any(-body/-one/-thing etc.) and every(-body/-one/-thing etc.) under negation: whenever such a pronoun/determiner is (part of) the subject of a clause (or sometimes even the object), the negation element is ‘attracted’ to it, instead of being left in its usual position after the verb. Thus, in StE negating a structure like anyone goes yields no-one goes, and not *anyone doesn’t go. The latter fails to observe the rule of negative attraction, hence the description of this phenomenon as “failure of negative attraction” (Harris 1984a: 305). Note that ‘failure’ is here used in a purely technical sense without any negative social or other implications. Though not a particularly frequent phenomenon, failure of negative attraction occurs in both southern and northern varieties of IrE. Examples of non-assertive pronouns or determiners from the databases include the following: (46)

There is great pity for this, what they call the students now, but I’d have no pity for them, because they’re only howling for a good time, howling... Any country couldn’t stand that. (Kerry: M.C.) ‘No country could stand that.’

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(47)

Now, a, anything is no sin. But I think myself that the day’s coming fast, in every one of us, when we’ll know whether it is a sin or not. (Kerry: M.C.)

(48)

Boxing, or football, something like that. But anything else I wouldn’t lend it eyesight {mm}, you know. I like the boxing. (NITCS: JM90)

Of the universal pronouns, every with its derivative forms seems the most liable to trigger this phenomenon; witness (49) and (50). (49)

There seems, people seem to have a, a fair share of money, and getting on [...] Though, I say, you know, we don’t, hmh, err, err, everybody doesn’t use it to a good advantage, I s’pose. (Wicklow: M.K.) ‘...not everybody uses it...’

(50)

Everybody hadn’t a hayshed, they talked about piking the hay. (NITCS: IP57)

In my southern IrE database, most of the tokens of this feature occurred in the (south-)western dialects, which are generally conservative and retain many Irishisms. Indeed, an obvious explanation for the IrE usage is to be found in the similar behaviour of Irish expressions containing negation either with the indefinite determiner aon ‘any’ or its universal counterpart gach aon ‘every’. The Irish negative particle ní/níor always stays in a position before the verb and is not attracted to an indefinite subject, as in English. Thus, the indefinite subject retains the same form in both affirmative and negative contexts, which is then carried over to conservative IrE (for further discussion, see Harris 1984a: 305). It is interesting to note that failure of negative attraction occurs in some other varieties of the British Isles Englishes, too. It has been recorded, e.g., in Tyneside speech where it is possibly due to IrE influence, transmitted by the large-scale immigration of Irish people to the north-east of England starting in the nineteenth century. The same feature has also been observed for ScE, including the Gaelicinfluenced varieties spoken in the Hebrides (see Filppula 1999, section 7.4., for further discussion and references). 4.3.

Negation with (-)nae

The Scottish heritage in northern IrE manifests itself particularly clearly in the occasional use of negation forms with the originally Scots negation word nae, which can be used on its own as a negative determiner, as in (51), or as a suffix attached to the primary auxiliaries BE, HAVE, and DO, and to the modal auxiliaries SHALL/ SHOULD, WILL/WOULD, CAN/COULD, as in (52)–(57): (51)

Aye, there were nae motors, or... (NITCS: JA4)

(52)

He isnae interested. (NITCS: MC22)

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(53)

No, I havenae got one [a harvester] yet. (NITCS: JM25)

(54)

...but at the same time, at the back of your mind, you think that, maybe they dinnae [do not] want you at all, you know. (NITCS: JM114)

(55)

Och, I wouldnae mind if she was good enough to me [as a wife]. (NITCS: JM194)

(56)

..., and they cannae sell it [an estate] till she dies, know, she has her day o’ it...so they cannae sell it. (NITCS: JM181)

(57)

...my father maybe remembers it done, I couldnae say, he might have. (NITCS: AM53)

The (colloquial) standard forms isn’t/haven’t/doesn’t etc. and shouldn’t/wouldn’t/ couldn’t etc. are by far the most common in northern IrE, too, but the usages illustrated above are preserved especially in areas where Ulster Scots is at its strongest (cf. Robinson 1997: 145).

5.

Relativisation

Like many other non-standard varieties, IrE dialects north (including Ulster Scots) and south are known for their avoidance of the so-called WH-relatives (who, whose, whom, which). Instead, the most commonly used means of relativisation are that, the so-called zero relative construction (also known as the ‘contact-clause’), and the conjunction and. The last-mentioned is particularly common in informal spoken language. It is sometimes labelled as a ‘quasi-relative’ construction, as it does not involve a ‘proper’ relative pronoun (see, e.g. Harris 1993: 149). The following examples illustrate the typical IrE usages: (58)

They don’t take in boys that haven’t got the eleven plus. (NITCS: MK76)

(59)

...there’s older people Ø tell me that they were 13 different families Ø lived in it. (NITCS: AM50)

(60)

There was this man and he lived, himself and his wife, they lived, and they had one only son. (Clare: F.K.)

Of the WH-relatives, especially whose and whom are extremely rare in all dialects, while who and which are slightly more frequent. WH-forms do occur in written IrE, but even in that mode the Irish have a noticeable predilection for that at the expense of the WH-forms. Ulster Scots generally follows the same patterns as the other Irish dialects, with at (a shortened form of that; possessive form ats) or the zero-relative being the most common means of relativisation (Robinson 1997: 77–78).

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Another noteworthy feature of IrE relative structures is the occasional use of so-called resumptive (or ‘shadow’) pronouns. These are ‘additional’ pronominal or other elements usually appearing at the end of the relative clause, especially in those contexts where StE would use a locative or possessive prepositional relative. Their function seems to be one of making sure that the point of reference becomes clear to the hearer. For example: (61)

They jumped banks that time on the race-course that they wouldn’t hunt over them today. (Wicklow: D.M.)

The resumptive element can also be an adverb, as in the following example: (62)

But the course was there in the sandhills of Lahinch, now, across from the golf-course, where the Sluagh hall is there, a grand flat, a grand, grand course. (Clare: F.K.)

These kinds of structures have long been known to be part of IrE vernacular and are discussed, for example, by Joyce (1988: 52–53), Henry (1957: 209–210), Harris (1993: 150–151), and Filppula (1999, section 8.2.). Joyce ascribes them to the parallel structures in Irish, one of his illustrative examples being there’s a man that his wife leaves him whenever she pleases. A similar usage is recorded by Robinson (1997: 78) from conservative Ulster Scots dialects. It is possible, indeed, that resumptive pronouns have been much more common in the past when the influence of Irish on IrE was at its strongest. Be that as it may, it is interesting to note that similar patterns are also found in some Welsh and Scottish English dialects, which gives further support for the Celtic hypothesis.

6.

Complementation

6.1.

For to - infinitives

A common feature shared by most vernacular forms of IrE is the use of for to instead of to or in order to in infinitival clauses expressing purpose. This usage is illustrated by the following examples from northern and southern IrE: (63)

And there was always one man selected for to make the tea. (NITCS: PM11)

(64)

I think it was a penny or halfpenny we used to bring to school for to see the Punch an’ Judy Show. (Dublin: P.L.)

While this construction is by no means unique to IrE because of its general occurrence in earlier forms of English and in other regional dialects, there are other usages especially in northern IrE dialects which appear to be peculiar to them. Such is, for example, the use of for to after an ‘intentional’ verb like try, as in (65):

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And the father, he would try for to tell her, like,... (NITCS: LM7)

Certain kinds of adjectives in predicate position can also lead to for to being used instead of to; witness (66): (66)

It’s very important, you know, for to have such a man {ahah} like him. (NITCS: PL23)

A detailed description of the for to phenomena in northern IrE, and especially Belfast speech, is provided by Henry (1995), who distinguishes between ‘weak’ and ‘strong’ Belfast English varieties in this respect. Speakers representing the former variety restrict the use of for to to purpose clauses, whereas representatives of the latter group use it in a wider variety of contexts, including the usages exemplified in (65) and (66) above. To these, Henry (1995: 83–84) adds exclamations such as For to tell her like that!, infinitives in subject position, as in For to stay here would be just as expensive, and so-called object-control verbs, as in I persuaded John for to go home. 6.2.

‘Narrative’ infinitive with to

Other infinitival structures with to include the so-called narrative infinitive. This term was perhaps first used by Joyce (1988), who describes this construction as an Irishism, which usually occurs in responses to questions. One of Joyce’s examples is as follows: (67)

How did the mare get that hurt? – Oh Tom Cody to leap her over the garden wall yesterday, and she to fall on her knees on the stones. (Joyce 1988: 45–46)

On the basis of the data from present-day IrE varieties, this feature is hardly used at all and can be considered old-fashioned and poetic. Henry (1957: 188–190) and Bliss (1984: 147–148) provide some examples from some conservative IrE dialects. Filppula (1999: 184) cites the following example from a nineteenth-century emigrant’s letter: (68)

I was very sorry to hear of you to let your old chapel to be chifted [shifted] to (Ballydafeen). O poor Derry [the townland of Caheraderry in Co. Clare] is gone and to let them grow over yea. (The Normile Letters, No. 12, 1862; cited in Filppula 1999: 184)

6.3.

Other features of complementation

Further under the heading of complementation, IrE displays some features which are less conspicuous but nevertheless characteristic of especially the present-day

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usage. The first concerns omission of to after certain verbs such as be allowed and help. IrE is not alone in this tendency, which seems to be on the increase in many other varieties of English, too. The same is true of another current trend, namely frequent omission of the preposition with originally prepositional verbs such as agree: one agrees a deal, instead of agrees on a deal, as in StE. Again, this is probably part of a more general process of ‘transitivisation’, which is under way in other varieties as well. Finally, IrE speakers typically omit the reflexive pronoun with certain reflexive verbs. Hence, one avails of something instead of avails oneself of something, as in the following example from the NITCS where, interestingly, both the interviewer and the informant use the same non-standard expression: (69)

{And do you find young people avail of it?} Young people do avail of it, you know, ... (NITCS: PP11)

7.

Subordination

In complex sentences, one of the most distinctive features of conservative IrE is the use of the conjunction and to introduce a subordinate instead of the usual coordinate clause. The subordinate clause most often contains a subject noun or pronoun (either in the objective or nominative form) followed by the -ing form of a verb, as in (70) and (71): (70)

I mind [remember] whenever [when] we were wee, and my mother rearing us, hey, she had to wash all with, just with a, steep them in a tub and... (NITCS: JM201)

(71)

I only thought of him there and I cooking my dinner. (Dublin: P.L.) ‘...while I was cooking...’

A past participle form, an adjective, and even an adverbial phrase are also possible in this position, as is seen from the following examples: (72)

I often got them [pheasants] dead out in the middle of the field and they not torn up or anything. There wasn’ a fox got them. (Wicklow: D.M.)

(73)

‘Twas in harvest time and the weather bad. (Clare: F.K.)

(74)

He said you could hear them [strange noises] yet, inside in his own house and he in bed. (Clare: M.R.)

The same construction type, often termed ‘subordinating and’, is also used in Ulster Scots:

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Hè cum in an me in thà middle o ma dinnèr. ‘He came in as I was eating my dinner.’ (Ulster Scots; cited in Robinson 1997: 111)

Besides IrE, subordinating and is also found in Scottish dialects of English. It is plausible to assume that the origins of this feature are to be found in the parallel constructions in Irish and Scottish Gaelic (see Filppula 1999, section 8.3., for a detailed discussion). A special feature of northern IrE and especially Ulster Scots is the use of whenever to refer to a single event or state in the past, instead of indicating ‘indefinite frequency’ as in StE. Montgomery and Gregg (1997: 610), who label this usage as ‘punctual whenever’, describe it as “something of a shibboleth for Ulster”. According to them, it is of Scottish origin, though this is not generally recognised, as they point out (Montgomery and Gregg 1997: 610). A good example from the NITCS occurs in (70) above (I mind whenever we were wee...).

8.

Subject-verb concord

Subject-verb concord is an area of English grammar which generally distinguishes non-standard varieties from StE, and IrE is no exception to this. A well-known feature of the northern IrE dialects is what Milroy (1981: 12–13) has labelled as the ‘Singular Concord rule’ or the ‘SING-CON rule’. Other terms used in subsequent research on the same phenomenon (including various other English dialects) are ‘Subject-Type Constraint’ and ‘Northern Subject Rule’. Briefly, this rule states that the verbal -s suffix can be used with plural noun subjects as well as with demonstrative pronoun subjects, but not with a plural personal pronoun, unless there are some other sentence elements between the subject and the verb. Thus, Milroy notes that sentences like them eggs is cracked can freely occur in Ulster speech alongside the standard those eggs are cracked. Even them’s cracked is possible, because them is construed as the demonstrative ‘those’ rather than as a personal pronoun. By contrast, they’s cracked is never used, as is predicted by the SINGCON rule. This rule, as Milroy points out, is in no way unique to Ulster speech but can be traced back to Middle Scots and even further back in history (Milroy 1981: 13). The Scottish influence on this feature of northern IrE is also confirmed by Montgomery and Gregg (1997: 610). In other recent research on northern IrE, Henry (1995) has studied subject-verb concord in Belfast English. She points out the optional nature of singular concord in Belfast English; in other words, a plural subject can also take the plural form of the verb. As regards the southern IrE dialects, the picture is not at all so clear. Of the earliest writers on IrE (north and south), Hume (1878) is the only one who discusses SV concord with plural subjects. He puts forward evidence which seems to confirm

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the existence of the Northern Subject Rule in what he subsumes under the general heading of ‘the Irish dialect [of English]’. He states that “[t]he third person singular of verbs is invariably used, unless when immediately preceded by the pronoun they”, adding that “[i]n the uneducated circles, the verb is invariably singular with nouns, whether one plural or several of the same or different numbers form the subject of the verb” (Hume 1878: 25–26). In his Linguistic Survey of Ireland, P.L. Henry briefly discusses the use of verbal -s but does not deal with the question of the historical or other background. His principal observation is that in Anglo-Irish dialects “-s is the common ending of the present pl.” (Henry 1958: 130–131). He then provides examples of verbs taking the -s suffix with different types of subject. These include collective nouns, as in people goes, ‘ordinary’ plural nouns, as in the wee things [children] catches, and – what seems to work against the Northern Subject Rule – personal pronouns, as in they learns it/we bakes it. Existential theresentences with plural NPs, such as there is accidents, form yet another category which exhibits the same feature. My southern IrE data contain plenty of examples illustrating lack of standard concord with different types of plural noun or pronoun subjects. The following are the major categories: Conjoined NP as subject: (76)

Oh, my mother and father was born and reared in Dublin. (Dublin M.L.)

There___NP: (77)

There was four boys of us, and there’s three of them dead. (Wicklow: J.F.)

Collective NP as subject: (78)

...and I think, at the pace the people is going they are not going to stick it. (Wicklow: M.K.)

Other NP: (79)

...but then, sons of theirs comes over here, an odd time has come. (Wicklow: J.F.)

(80)

‘Course he signed the Treaty, and some was for it and some again’ it. (Dublin: W.H.)

They: (81)

Oh well, only, they gets pensions, you know and I get the old-age pension. (Kerry: J.F.)

(82)

...when they was about three months old, or four, like, ... (Clare: F.K.)

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Them: (83)

Them is all reclaimed [land]. (Wicklow: D.M.)

(84)

And you know what wages them was getting that time in thirty-nine? (Wicklow: J.F.)

Other personal pronoun: (85)

We keeps about ten cows that way, you know, and few cattle. (Kerry: J.F.)

(86)

...I happened to be, we was just getting our tea. (Wicklow: J.F.)

However, these are counterbalanced by the even more frequent occurrence of standard S-V concord, which means that, all things considered, plural S-V concord in southern IrE represents a mixture of elements drawn from the ‘northern’, originally northern Middle English and Scots type, which follows the Northern Subject Rule, and from the ‘southern’ British type, which has ‘universal -s’ throughout the plural paradigm regardless of the type of subject. There may have been some influence from the concord system of Irish, which in this case would have promoted lack of concord with plural subjects and thus worked against the pressures from StE. As yet another factor explaining lack of concord, one should bear in mind the general trend in all kinds of Englishes to ignore concord especially in existential there-sentences.

9.

Noun phrase structure

Perhaps the most notable feature of the IrE noun phrase is frequent use of the definite article in contexts where it is not used in StE. In this respect, IrE is very similar to ScE and also WelE. This feature has been known for long and is commented on, for example, in the early work by Joyce (1988: 82–83) and later works, such as Henry (1957: 117), Bliss (1984: 149) and Harris (1993: 144–145). Non-standard uses tend to cluster around certain categories or groups of words and expressions. The major ones, and popularly the most widely known, include the following: (i) names of languages and branches of learning: (87)

And err, when I do be listen’ to the Irish here, I do be sorry now, when you’re in a local having a drink, nobody seems to understand it. Whoever is speaking the Irish, might as well be, as the saying says, speaking Dutch... (Dublin: P.T.)

(88)

Oh, the maths, the maths nowadays seems to be complicated. (NITCS: RF21)

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(ii) (unpleasant) physical sensations or states: (89)

I think Jim Larkin, Big Jim, err, brought it [a ship] here, called The Heir, with food ... for this, this is the poor people were starved with the hunger. (Dublin: W.H.)

(iii) names of diseases and ailments: (90)

And that cured the whooping cough.... Some children does be terrible bad with it, whooping cough. (Wicklow: T.F.)

(91)

But he’s the measles, and he, he’s off school for a while. (NITCS: NK43)

(iv) names of social institutions: (92)

I left the school in early age, nearly fourteen, you know. (Dublin: W.H.)

(93)

...mm, best singer now, he’s away in, in, the present time in the hospital. (NITCS: CM129)

(v) quantifying expressions involving most, both, half followed by a postmodifying of phrase: (94)

Oh, well, down round Arboe the most of them was all small kind of farms,... (NITCS: FC73)

(95)

I had more brothers, two more brothers there with ‘im at the time. And the both of them is dead. (Wicklow: J.F.)

(96)

Now Lough Melvin’s a good salmon place. It’s down here, the half of it’s in, eh, Eire, you know, in the Free State. (NITCS: JH80)

Less noticeable, but also characteristic of the vernacular forms of IrE, are the following categories: (vi) names of festive days or seasons: (97)

Yes. The wren, the wren, the King of all birds, Saint Stephen’s day was caught in the bush. You see, they chased him up here the Saint Stephen’s Day, the chap, boys. (Wicklow: T.F.)

(vii) plural count nouns with generic reference: (98) (viii) (99)

Do they keep the goats? (Kerry: D.B.) non-count abstract nouns and concrete mass nouns: I don’ know when the coffee came. I s’pose it did, came later. The tea, the tea, the tea weren’t there at all. (Kerry: M.C.)

(ix) expressions involving reference to body parts:

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(100) Well, John Doolan cut a branch off it, and a crowd of birds come and they nearly took the head off him. They all collected round his head. (Wicklow: T.F.) (x) names of geographical areas and localities: (101) But I’m sure now, if you went out to Glendalough, you would get people that’d give you a good deal of the lowdown of the County Wicklow. (Wicklow: M.K.) Most of the usages described above have parallels in Irish and may have been transferred from there directly or at least reinforced by the Irish substratum in those cases in which there are similar earlier or dialectal English usages (for a detailed discussion of these, see Filppula 1999, section 5.2.).

10.

Pronominal systems

10.1.

Personal pronouns

Two features of IrE personal pronouns deserve to be mentioned here. The first is the frequent use of them as a determiner or ‘demonstrative adjective’ in colloquial speech, as in (102), or on its own as subject, as in (103) (see Harris 1993: 145). This feature is not, however, unique to IrE. Research on other varieties has shown that them in this function is one of the most commonly occurring features of nonstandard British English dialects, both urban and rural. (102) ...that time the people were rich that used to live in them houses. (Dublin: J.O’B.) (103) {Mm. And those were cornstacks?} Them was cornstacks... (NITCS: WC15) The distinction between singular you and plural yous (sometimes spelt youse or yez/yiz) is another well-known characteristic of IrE vernacular, and was already commented on in the early description by Hayden and Hartog (1909: 781). Interestingly, the same usage is also found in other varieties like Tyneside English, Scots, and Liverpool dialect, all of which have been influenced by the speech of the large numbers of Irish immigrants (see, for example Beal, this volume) 10.2.

‘Absolute’ uses of reflexive pronouns

It is a rule of StE that reflexive pronouns normally require the presence in the same clause or sentence of another nominal element, the so-called antecedent, with which they stand in a coreferential relation. In IrE dialects, however, reflexives can be used on their own, without such an antecedent. They can occur, for

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example, in subject position, in object position, or as prepositional complement in adverbial prepositional phrases. These types are illustrated by the following examples: (104) And by God, he said, ... he’d be the devil, if himself wouldn’ make him laugh. (Kerry: M.C.) (105) And d’you hear me, you didn’t know the minute they’d burn yourself an’ the house. (Clare: J.N.) (106) ... when Cromwell came over here... he was s’posed to say, he’d drive the Irish to hell or Connacht... The Irish used to say... the Irish went to Connacht and left hell for himself. (Dublin: W.H.) This IrE feature has attracted the attention of many scholars in the past. Thus, Hayden and Hartog (1909: 941) speak of the ‘absolute’ use of the reflexive pronouns, a term which they obviously adopt from the Latin grammatical tradition. Other commentators include Henry (1958: 92), who uses the same term, Bliss (1979) and Harris (1993: 147). It is interesting to note that, although this feature is mainly found in vernacular and colloquial styles, occurrences can be spotted even in ‘educated’ varieties, including written language (see Filppula 1999: 81 for examples). While the function of an absolute reflexive like himself is sometimes described as a polite form of reference to the ‘man of the house’, in actual usage there appear to be other functions, too. For instance, an absolute reflexive is often used with reference to that person or those persons who constitute the ‘topic’ of the conversation in some way or another. Of the examples cited above, this interpretation seems to suit the subject and prepositional complement reflexives in (104) and (106), though not so well the object reflexive in (105). As regards the origins of absolute reflexives, it is hard to ascertain the exact source of the IrE usage because of parallels in both Irish and earlier English. Thus, Henry (1957: 120) points out that the Irish system of pronouns allows the same type of usage involving the emphatic pronoun féin. However, he implicitly notes the possibility of superstratal influence from earlier English by citing examples from Shakespeare’s works to show that absolute reflexives occurred in earlier English, too (Henry 1957: 120–121; see also Hayden and Hartog 1909: 941; Harris 1993: 147).

11.

Word order and information structure

11.1.

Inverted word order in indirect questions

Along with Welsh and Scottish varieties of English, IrE dialects are well-known for their tendency to use inverted word order in indirect questions. This feature,

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which is here called ‘embedded inversion’, occurs in both Yes/No and WH- embedded questions in all regional varieties of IrE (see Bliss 1984; Henry 1995). The following examples illustrate the typical main-clause verbs triggering this phenomenon: (107) I don’ know was it a priest or who went in there one time with a horsecollar put over his neck. (Kerry: C.D.) (108) I wonder what is he like at all. The leprechaun. I don’ know what is it at all. (Clare: M.V.) (109) ...oh, how long, wait till I see how long would it be? (Dublin: P.L.) (110) ...and the brogue was put in under somebody’s knees this way, but you didn’t... see where it was, and you could shuffle it on here to somebody else. And you were asked where was the brogue. (NITCS: PH17) (111) {You know they had a roof, and they were square at the bottom, and they had a, they weren’t...} Wonder were those actually hay, or was that corn? (NITCS: PH61) It has long been thought that Irish substratal influence has been at work here. Thus, writing almost a century ago, Hayden and Hartog (1909: 938) note that “[t]he indirect question preceded by ‘whether’ or ‘if’ does not exist in Gaelic; and it is rare in the mouth of an Irishman, who will say ‘I wondered was the horse well bred?’” Indeed, it is true that Irish has no equivalent of the English conjunctions if/ whether but retains the interrogative word order in indirect questions just as IrE does. This also holds for the Irish counterparts of the WH-questions, although the parallelism is less obvious there because of the relative clause structure required by the Irish WH-questions. Though nowadays primarily a feature of informal spoken language, embedded inversion was a frequent phenomenon even in written texts in earlier IrE, as is shown by the following extract from a mid-nineteenthcentury letter written by an Irishman to a Liverpool-based shipping agent: (112) Dear Sir i am writing to you to let you know that i am to embark on the 24th. day of september in which i hope your amiable Honour will be sure to keep room for me in the ship there is a friend of mine to be along with me that day a young Girl and she wants to know how much will you charge her from liverpool to newyork and herself to buy 1/2 provision please to write to me sir will you keep room for her in the ship. i am told that there are very sharp people in liverpool. i want to know how will i know them sir... (Grimshaw Papers, 1865; National Library of Ireland MS 15,784) Besides substratal influence, it is possible that embedded inversion is inherited from earlier English. Visser (1963–1973: 780–781) cites some parallels from

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Early Modern English texts but notes that “instances [of embedded inversion] do not seem to occur with great frequency before the eighteenth century”. Others have suggested that embedded inversion is a phenomenon of ‘learner English’ or of colloquial, simplified fast speech regardless of the variety. Yet another, formalsyntactic and ‘universalist’, approach sees it as a reflex of the more general ‘verbsecond’ (V2) properties of English and other Germanic languages. Despite their merits, these accounts fail to explain the geographical distribution of embedded inversion among the dialects of English spoken in the British Isles, and more specifically, its prominence in the western, north-western and northern varieties such as IrE, ScE, and WelE. Thus, it is hard to escape the conclusion that the Celtic substrate languages have had some role in promoting the use of embedded inversion in the said varieties (for further discussion, see Filppula 1999, section 7.3.). 11.2.

Focusing devices

Focusing devices are so called because they serve to give emphasis or prominence to some element(s) of an utterance or a clause. In other words, some part or parts of an utterance, conceived of as a message purporting to convey the communicative intentions of the speaker, stand out from the rest as being more important than them. Prominence can in English (as in other languages) be achieved by various means, which include, first, prosodic ones: the speaker can highlight some word(s) by assigning it the primary sentence stress and thereby indicating the location of the main ‘information focus’ of his/her utterance. Secondly, various kinds of structural means can be used along with sentence stress to achieve the same effect. Such are, e.g. the so-called cleft construction (or ‘clefting’ for short), ‘pseudoclefting’, and ‘fronting’ (sometimes also termed ‘topicalisation’). These three can be exemplified by sentences such as It was the window John broke (not the door), What John broke was the window (not the door), and The window John broke (not the door), respectively (the information foci are emboldened). Where IrE dialects clearly differ from StE and most other regional varieties is in their tendency to favour clefting and fronting over ‘simple’ sentence stress. This is particularly salient in those dialects which have been in closest contact with Irish as a living community language, and can be explained by the central role that clefting and fronting play in the grammatical system of Irish. Just like the other Celtic languages, Irish uses almost exclusively structural means such as clefting (often called the ‘copula construction’ in the Celtic grammatical tradition) or simple fronting instead of sentence stress for marking prominence, e.g. contrast or emphasis. Their functions are not, however, restricted to these special contexts: they are also used for introducing answers to specific questions, and more generally, for distinguishing between ‘new’ and ‘old’ information. Besides frequencies of use, another factor speaking for Irish influence on IrE dialects is the special syntactic characteristics of clefting and, to some extent, front-

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ing; these are either rare or not attested in other dialects of English. Thus, IrE (like Irish) allows part of a VP in the focus position of clefts (so-called VP-clefting), as in (113) from the southern IrE corpus. Similarly, subject complement adjectives and certain types of adverbial expressions such as those in (114) and (115), and ‘absolute’ reflexive pronouns, as in (116) from the NITCS, can occur in the same position in IrE vernacular. In StE, these would be at least odd, if not unacceptable even. (113) {Have many people left this area at all, or = or given up farming at all or?} Ah, very little’s give up farming round this area. It’s looking for more land a lot of them are. (Wicklow: J.N.) (114) It’s flat it was. (Henry 1957: 193) (115) It’s badly she’d do it, now. (Henry 1957: 193) (116) I don’t know why it was now {I know}. I’ll not say that it was {I know} myself was the cause of that... (NITCS: PT86) Clefting is also a common device in starting responses to questions, which is yet another reflex of the Irish tendency to front new information by means of the copula (cleft) construction. This is illustrated in (117) from the NITCS: (117) {And what kind of work do you do?} It’s mostly missionary work we do in the Mothers’ Union. (NITCS: HN38) Simple fronting is slightly less common in IrE than clefting, but it is noteworthy that it can likewise be used in contexts in which StE would prefer ‘straight’ word order. Thus, in the following examples the primary motivation for the use of fronting seems to be highlighting the new information in the utterance rather than contrast or emphasis: (118) My brother that’s over in England, ...when he was young, a story now he told me, when he was young. (Kerry: M.McG.) (119) Indeed, I walked it myself when I young... all the way from here to Cahirciveen with cattle and with sheep. Oh, about a distance of twenty and three or four miles it were. (Kerry: M.McG.) As said above, both clefting and fronting are part of StE grammar but their syntactic and functional ranges are more limited there than in IrE dialects. It should also be noted that clefting is a relatively recent construction in English and had not fully developed until late in the Early Modern English period. A further factor suggesting Irish substratal influence on IrE dialects is the abundant use of similar focusing devices in the heavily Gaelic-influenced varieties of Hebridean English.

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Welsh English also has a predilection for structural means, but where IrE and Hebridean English use clefting, WelE prefers simple fronting, which can be explained by a parallel feature of Welsh (see Filppula 1999, chapter 10 for further discussion).

12.

Prepositional usage

IrE abounds in turns of expression which involve prepositional usages which are not found in other regional dialects or in StE. Again, many of these can be explained by parallel expressions in Irish and, more generally, by the prominent role that prepositions play in Irish syntax: meanings which in other languages, including StE, are expressed by verbs, adjectives or adverbs, are often rendered by various types of prepositional phrases in Irish (see Henry 1957: 132; Harris 1993: 172). The preposition on has been described as a “preposition-of-all-work” in IrE (Hayden and Hartog 1909: 939). Particularly well-known is its use in contexts which imply a disadvantage of some kind or another from the point of view of the speaker or some other person. This is illustrated in the following conversation where the informant describes how a fox managed to kill half of her flock of hens: (120) One year then he took the half of them on me. (Wicklow: Mrs. F.) The same relation of disadvantage, often termed the ‘dative of disadvantage’, can also be conveyed by a combination of a verb + particle + preposition, as in (121): (121) But eh, there was some island, like, where there was a man living. And he was marooned, like, and there was no one in it but himself, like. And this day the fire went out on him, like. (Clare: F.K.) A second major function of on in IrE is its use to express various physical and mental sensations, states or processes. These are most often negative, as can be seen from (122): (122) ...and Colonel Tottenham had a gamekeeper. Begor, the gamekeeper saw him huntin’ an’ he made after ‘im. And they ran. And this blacksmith was runnin’ too, and begor, the breath was gettin’ short on him. (Clare: C.O’B.) ‘...he was getting short of breath.’ Thirdly, on is used to express possession of an inherent physical or other property of a person or some other referent. It is usually of the ‘inalienable’ type, as in (123) and (124):

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(123) All the cattle had the horns on them that time. (Kerry: C.D.) (124) There was another old lad used to clean windows. But I can’t think the name that was on him. (Dublin: P.L.) The preposition in has also developed several usages which are distinctive of IrE. Most of these involve the prepositional phrase in it, which has generally been considered a calque on the Irish ann (lit.) ‘in it’ or ‘in existence’ (see e.g. Henry 1957: 144–147). In the following example, in it clearly conveys the idea of existence in the general sense: (125) But she learned the deaf and dumb alphabet out of Moore’s Almanac, that there used to be in it at the time, and... (Clare: F.K.) Like on, the preposition in can express some inherent quality or property of something, as in (126): (126) {Do you have to train them [i.e. sheep-dogs] especially for this purpose or?} Well, you do, ah, if it’s in a dog he’ll train himself, if the goodness is in ‘im. (Wicklow: C.C.) The uses of the preposition with have also been moulded by contact effects. Thus, in conservative varieties of IrE, with can be used for the expression of the duration of a state or an activity. For instance, in (127) with has the temporal meaning ‘for’, ‘for the duration of’, or ‘X time ago’: (127) I didn’t hear him playin’ with years an’ years. Maybe he isn’t able to play at all now. (Clare: C.O’B.) ‘I haven’t heard him playing for years and years.’ The origin of the temporal meaning of with, which appears to be unique to the Irish dialects of English, lies in the corresponding Irish expressions involving the preposition le ‘with; for the duration of’ (Joyce 1988: 27). Besides time, with is used to express agency in passive constructions. This usage, which has parallels in both earlier English and Irish, is illustrated in (128): (128) That was his ration, a trout and a half a day. {And the other half?} Yeah, the other half would be, be ate, you see, with the monster or the serpent. (Clare: F.K.) ‘...by the monster or the serpent.’ Like the prepositions discussed so far, IrE of displays some special characteristics. Most of these are common to vernacular forms of speech throughout the British Isles, e.g. the temporal use in such expressions as of a Saturday ‘on Saturday(s)’, which has been recorded in a wide range of localities in Scotland, the north of Eng-

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land, the southwest and the east. Of greater interest in this connection is the intensifying construction known as ‘attributive of’, which is illustrated in (129) and (130): (129) And there was a young fella that, his father an’ mother was buried, he was right orphaned and he was a good hardy step of a boy, and he was hurlin’. (Clare: M.R.) (130) If it’s there, it’s there, and they’ll [sheep-dogs] do the work with very little training. So they will. You get more fools of dogs, they are as useless... put sheep away on you, breaking, going through them, and... (Wicklow: J.N.) As Joyce (1988: 42) points out, idiomatic Irish parallels for these kinds of expressions exist in the form of constructions such as amadán fir ‘a fool of a man’ (where fir is the genitive form of fear ‘man’). At the same time, he notes the existence of attributive of in EngE, which suggests two possible sources for the IrE attributive of. Finally, the originally Scandinavian-derived preposition till in the directional sense ‘to’ can be mentioned as a feature which is still preserved in some northern IrE and especially Ulster Scots dialects, as is shown by (131) and (132) from the NITCS (cf. Joyce 1988: 84; Robinson 1997: 106): (131) I used to go down till the aerodrome, Ballykelly, the time the airport were down there,... (NITCS: TF57) (132) ...when I got up in years then, and went till the dance, I couldn’t dance. (NITCS: WC3)

13.

Conclusion

As the foregoing discussion has shown, vernacular forms of IrE display a wide range of distinctive features in most areas of syntax, though much less in their morphology. Some of these features are shared with other regional or non-standard varieties of English and can thus be considered either retentions from earlier forms of English or ‘general vernacular’ patterns characteristic of most varieties spoken in the British Isles and Ireland. Then there are many others which have their origins in corresponding syntactic structures in Irish, which has over the last few centuries exercised considerable substratal influence on IrE. This influence, though clearly on the wane in the present-day urban varieties, is surprisingly persistent in some domains of syntax, such as the tense and aspect systems of IrE, and is still reflected to some extent even in educated informal speech; written IrE, on the other hand, mostly follows the StE norm. In rural dialects, both northern and southern, the presence of Irish-derived features is

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very noticeable, as can be predicted. Finally, the Scottish input to Ulster Scots and northern IrE in general forms yet another interesting strand in the linguistic make-up of IrE. The writing of this article was supported by the Research Council for Culture and Society, Academy of Finland (Project no. 47424).

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Bliss, Alan Joseph 1972 Languages in contact: some problems of Hiberno-English. Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy 72: 63–82. 1984 English in the South of Ireland. In: Trudgill (ed.), 135−151. Harris, John 1984a Syntactic variation and dialect divergence. Journal of Linguistics 20: 303– 327. 1984b English in the North of Ireland. In: Trudgill (ed.), 115–134. 1993 The grammar of Irish English. In: Milroy and Milroy (eds.), 139–186. Hayden, Mary and Marcus Hartog 1909 The Irish dialect of English: its origins and vocabulary. Fortnightly Review 85: 775–785, 933–947. Henry, Alison 1995 Belfast English and Standard English: Dialect variation and parameter setting. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Henry, Patrick L. 1957 An Anglo-Irish Dialect of North Roscommon. Dublin: University College. 1958 A linguistic survey of Ireland: preliminary report. Lochlann 1: 49–208. Hume, A. 1878 Remarks on the Irish Dialect of the English Language. (From the Transactions of the Historic Society of Lancashire and Cheshire, Vol. XXX), Liverpool. Joyce, Patrick Weston 1910 [1988] English as We Speak It in Ireland. Third edition. Dublin: Wolfhound Press. Kallen, Jeffrey L. 1989 Tense and aspect categories in Irish English. English World-Wide 10: 1−39. 1994 English in Ireland. In: Burchfield (ed.), 148–196. Kirk, John M. 1992 The Northern Ireland Transcribed Corpus of Speech. In: Leitner, Gerhard (ed.), New Directions in Language Corpora, 65–73. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter.

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Molloy, Gerald 1897 The Irish Difficulty, Shall and Will. London: Blackie and Son. Montgomery, Michael and Robert J. Gregg 1997 The Scots language in Ulster. In: Jones (ed.), 569–622. Robinson, Philip 1997 Ulster-Scots: A Grammar of the Traditional Written and Spoken Language. Belfast: The Ullans Press. Visser, Frederikus Th. 1963–1973 A Historical Syntax of the English Language. 4 Volumes. Leiden: E.J. Brill.

Welsh English: morphology and syntax Robert Penhallurick

1.

Introduction

This chapter describes the more notable and significant non-standard features of Welsh English morphology and syntax. It is divided into four sections: section 2 looks at features which seemingly arise as a result of Welsh-language influence; section 3 looks at influence on Welsh English grammar from non-standard English English; sections 4 and 5 consider phenomena worthy of highlighting, that is, predicate fronting, periphrastic verb phrases and periphrastic progressive verb phrases respectively, both already the subject of comparatively lengthy consideration in the scholarly literature on Welsh English. The chief sources for the present chapter are as follows: – Parry (1999), which is the most recent major publication of the Survey of Anglo-Welsh Dialects (SAWD), and which draws together data collected between 1968–1982 for Phase 1 of the Survey, on the English speech of the 60-plus agegroup in rural Wales. Parry (1999) incorporates material from the other main SAWD and SAWD-associated publications, Parry (1977, 1979a) and Penhallurick (1991). – Penhallurick (1994), which includes amongst its numerous historical sources pre- and early-SAWD material collected by David Parry and by Clive Upton in the 1960s. – Penhallurick (1996), which adds to the data and findings published in Penhallurick (1991). – Pitkänen (2003), which draws on her substantial doctoral research (University of Joensuu, in progress) into Welsh English syntax. Pitkänen uses four corpora in her apparent-time study, two of which she collected herself, in south-west Wales and north Wales during 1995–2000, and two from the SAWD archives (housed at the Department of English, University of Wales Swansea). Her SAWD material consists of, firstly, data from a selection of south-western and northern localities in the SAWD Phase 1 rural network, and, secondly, hitherto unpublished and indeed unused data from the intended urban Phase 2 of SAWD, for which fieldwork was carried out in Grangetown (Cardiff), Caernarfon, Wrexham, and Carmarthen during 1985–1987. Unlike the rural informants, Phase 2 informants covered all age-groups, as also did Pitkänen’s own informants. – Williams (2000), which also includes the SAWD archives amongst its sources.

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For an outline of the cultural and sociohistorical background to Welsh English, see the companion chapter on Welsh English phonology (Penhallurick, other volume).

2.

Welsh-language influence in Welsh English grammar

Welsh-language influence, although not as pervasive as in Welsh English phonology, is prominently evident in some areas of Welsh English morphology and syntax. The discussions under 4 and 5 below, on predicate fronting and periphrastic and progressive verb phrases, also refer to Welsh-language influence. 2.1.

Verbs

Generalized isn’t it as a confirmatory interrogative tag, applying to the whole of a preceding statement, irrespective of the main verb, is common in Welsh English. Parry (1999: 115) states that it is “fairly widespread” throughout Wales, except for Monmouthshire. Penhallurick (1991: 204–205) records fourteen examples from the Welsh-speaking heartland of the north-west, including the following: (1)

you have to rig him up in his clothes, isn’t it

(2)

I’ve heard the word, isn’t it

(3)

we say “clean under the grate”, isn’t it

(4)

we saw some the other day, isn’t it

(5)

they had them in their hair, isn’t it

In these examples, pronunciation is frequently truncated to forms of the type [InI] or [nI]. This tag no doubt arises as a result of the transfer of the Welsh generalized confirmatory interrogative ydy fe? ‘isn’t it?’. It should be noted, however, that innit forms are common in English English, including that of the south-west and south-east of England (see, for example, Anderwald, this volume), and it is entirely possible that this more general trend might have a reinforcing effect on Welsh English. 2.2.

Adverbs

As Parry (1999: 120) reports, Standard English how + adjective as an introductory adverbial phrase in exclamations is commonly expressed in Welsh English by there’s + adjective: (6)

there’s funny questions

(7)

there’s twp (‘stupid’) I’ve been

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(8)

there’s nice to see you

Although Parry has one example from north Wales, his others are all from south Wales, and this feature is associated more with southern Welsh English than with northern. It is to be heard frequently in the longer-anglicised regions of the southeast, but can be firmly linked with a corresponding formation in the Welsh language: dyna ‘there is’ + adjective. 2.3.

Prepositions

Penhallurick (1991: 207) records several examples of on in the phrase the name/ term on in north Wales (though not in the anglicised border region), such as: (9)

I don’t know the English term on that

(10)

there’s a special name on that

(11)

there’s a word on that

Parry (1999: 119) records similar expressions mainly in mid-Wales. Like a good proportion of non-standard grammatical material in SAWD sources, these examples occurred in ‘incidental material’, that is, not as direct responses to any question in the SAWD questionnaire, so that any attempt to gauge the regional spread of such forms is, strictly speaking, tentative. However, it is noticeable that almost all of the instances in Parry (1999) and Penhallurick (1991) occur in traditional Welsh-speaking regions, which adds weight to the pretty clear connection with the Welsh syntagm yr enw ar, ‘the name on’. 2.4.

Indirect question word order

There are recorded instances in Parry (1999: 119) and Penhallurick (1991: 209– 210) of indirect questions retaining the inversion of subject and verb characteristic of direct questions, for example: (12)

I don’t know what time is it

(13)

I don’t know what is that

(14)

I’m not sure is it Caerleon or not (Parry 1999: 119)

This appears to be a Welsh-influenced construction. In Welsh we find that the verb + immediately following form is identical in direct questions and their equivalent indirect ones. The SAWD examples come from incidental material and are few in number, but are almost exclusively from south-west Wales. Thomas (1985: 217) says that the elision of the conjunction (such as if or whether) in some examples is assisted by the practice in Welsh “of regularly eliding the corresponding conjunc-

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tion (a/os) in similar environments in the vernacular”. Filppula (1999: 167–172) notes the occurrence of such word orders in Hiberno-English (or Irish English), Scottish English, Hebridean English and Tyneside English, suggesting a general Celtic influence at work.

3.

Non-standard English English influence in Welsh English grammar

In this section, a summary is provided of morphological and syntactic items recorded in Welsh English which seem to have travelled from the neighbouring dialects of English English. The traditional varieties of the borders, south Pembrokeshire, and the Gower Peninsula (i.e. areas subject to anglicization since the twelfth century and the aftermath of the Norman invasion of Wales) have been especially affected by this influence. Non-standard forms which illustrate less specific influence, such as double negation and demonstrative them, are not considered, although they may well indicate a more general ‘vernacularization’ of Welsh English, as Thomas (1985: 219) suggests. Parry (1999: 105–120) has a summary of such forms in SAWD data. 3.1.

Pronouns

(15)

thee – subjective and objective 2nd person singular personal pronoun;

(16)

thou – subjective 2nd person singular personal pronoun;

(17)

a – subjective 3rd person singular masculine personal pronoun, unstressed;

(18)

’en/un/n – objective 3rd person singular masculine and neuter personal pronoun, unstressed;

(19)

thy – 2nd person singular possessive adjective;

(20)

thine – 2nd person singular possessive pronoun;

(21)

yourn – 2nd person singular possessive pronoun;

(22)

ourn – 1st person plural possessive pronoun;

(23)

theirn – 3rd person plural possessive pronoun

These are forms recorded in SAWD and in material collected by David Parry in the early 1960s prior to SAWD (see Parry 1967, 1977, and 1999: 108–110), in the borders, south Pembrokeshire and the Gower Peninsula, and also attested widely in the Survey of English Dialects (SED) in the west and south-west of England. There is no doubt that they illustrate historical English English influence on Welsh

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English. However, in Welsh English most have a sporadic occurrence and the remainder are sporadic, and what is open to considerable doubt is whether they remain in current use. Writing in 1979, Parry commented: Thee is still used among the older generation at Bishopston [Gower Peninsula, investigated by Parry in 1960, and again for SAWD in 1969], Middleton [Gower, investigated by Parry in 1960] and Llantwit [Vale of Glamorgan, investigated for SAWD in 1970]. But it is used only between equals and familiars. The form a (pronounced as in the first syllable of about [] is used for ‘he’ in unemphatic positions in the sentence at Bishopston and Middleton. And at these same localities, un (pronounced as in the first syllable of untidy [n], as in button) may be used for the direct-object pronouns ‘him’ and ‘it’. This is a reduced form of the Old English pronoun hine that meant ‘him’, and that was pronounced something like the word inner with an h added at the beginning. (Parry 1979a: 15)

He goes on to record that, in addition to these personal pronouns, the possessive forms thy and thine “survive amongst older-generation speakers” at Llangennith (Gower, investigated in 1969 for SAWD), Bishopston and Middleton, with their use again confined to equals and familiars. Elsewhere (Parry 1967: 135), he also records the personal pronoun thou as being in use in 1960 in Bishopston and Middleton. My own judgement, at least regarding the English of the Gower Peninsula, is that the late 1970s/early 1980s at best mark the dying moments of these forms. Indeed by that time they were probably little-used relics in the speech of the elderly generation. Gowerland and its Language (Penhallurick 1994) charts, through sources dating from the late seventeenth century to the late twentieth, the history of the traditional English dialect of the Gower Peninsula, a dialect having much in common in grammar, lexis and phonology with the dialects of the southwest of England. The coast of England is visible across the Bristol Channel from Gower and it seems that there was significant settlement of south-west Englanders in Gower from the Norman invasion onwards. Throughout the history of scholarly investigation of this traditional Gower English, writers regularly declared it both an active variety and one on the verge of extinction. My conclusion in 1994 was that most of its historical characteristics had been swept away by the influx of a more general southern Welsh English. Certainly, the pronoun forms above are no longer current in Gower. 3.2.

Verbs

Parry (1999: 112–118), summarizing information gathered by SAWD, records many instances of non-standard forms of be, do and have in Welsh English which can be connected with the traditional dialects of the west and south-west of England. Examples include:

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(24)

I be/you am/thee art/thee bist/she be/we am/we be/they am/they be/them be, all present tense, unstressed;

(25)

he do/he doth, auxiliary, present tense, stressed;

(26)

he have/he hath, auxiliary, present tense, stressed

Parry also records numerous examples of non-standard forms of other verbs, though these tend towards connections with a more general English English. With regard to the more specific west and south-west English English influence, as with 3.2. above it is the border, south Pembrokeshire, and Gower varieties of Welsh English that are affected, and, as above, there is the question of how current these forms are. Again, the example of the Gower Peninsula is arguably a useful indicator. Penhallurick (1994: 165–168) presents a plethora of examples from traditional Gower English, including (27) to (32) from sources published between 1886 and 1957. (27)

I be, art thee, yee binna ‘you be not’;

(28)

thee casn’t ‘you can’t’;

(29)

thee cust ‘you could’;

(30)

it doth;

(31)

I’th ‘I hath’, ye’th ‘you hath’, we hath;

(32)

we makth

In Parry (1977: 161–178, 1979a: 16–17), we find a fuller listing of such verb forms for Gower than in Parry (1999), and some commentary on their currency: In the present tense, forms such as he goeth, he look’th and he cometh were occasionally to be heard from older generation speakers at Middleton in 1960, when investigations were first carried out in that locality. Joseph Wright (English Dialect Grammar, section 435) said in 1905 that such forms were still used by elderly speakers in Somerset. (Parry 1979a: 16)

Research for Gowerland and its Language (Penhallurick 1994) indicated firmly that these south-west-English-English-derived verb forms were obsolescent by the 1960s and a disappearing folk-memory by the 1980s. Ultimately, however, it would be a mistake to generalize too confidently from the Gower example. Gower English was rather isolated for centuries, bounded by a Welsh-speaking community in mainland south Wales. As that community became English-speaking, the grammar of Gower English, particularly during the twentieth century, merged with that of general southern Welsh English. South Pembrokeshire English is still bounded by a Welsh-speaking community, and Welsh English along the border has of course continually been in contact with west English English.

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With the exception of Gower English, the erosion (or not) of dialectal English English influence in varieties of Welsh English is a neglected topic of study. 3.3.

Prepositions

The SAWD questionnaire elicited purposive for to ‘in order to’ as in (33) in south Pembrokeshire, Gower, and a couple of times in border localities. (33)

I went to town for to see the doctor.

SAWD incidental material provides a few more examples (see Parry 1999: 118, and Penhallurick 1991: 208), including, interestingly, one in Welsh-speaking north-west Wales (at Ynys, Gwynedd). Close inspection of the biographical details of the informant who provided this example (Penhallurick 1999: 16) shows that, whilst she was born locally, resident locally for most of her life, and had Welsh as her first language, she had lived in Dorset between the ages of 24–35. Dorset is one of the counties in which the SED records this syntagm. It is recorded widely across England by the SED, though its occurrence in Irish English should also be noted (Filppula 1999: 185).

4.

Predicate fronting

Thomas (1985: 215) notes that “[o]ne of the more familiar distinctive features of sentence structure in Welsh English is the fronting of a constituent, when attention is focussed upon it: the fronted constituent is accompanied by emphatic stress”. Examples of this feature are rare in SAWD data, because they are restricted to incidental material. Parry (1999: 119–120) records eight, under the heading sentence-initial emphasis, including: (34)

A weed it is

(35)

Coal they’re getting out mostly

(36)

A horse, ‘t was

Thomas compares this Welsh English fronting with clefted and pseudo-clefted sentences in other varieties of English (in which clauses are divided into two separate sections), but argues that, in Welsh English, this feature is “best accounted for as an instance of interference from Welsh” (Thomas 1985: 216). In the Welsh language, ‘clefting’ is a simpler, blunter process than in English: any constituent of a sentence can be moved forward in a sentence (fronted) for emphasis. Tristram (2002) takes the case for Welsh influence further, arguing that clefting is one of a number of features exemplifying historical transference from Welsh to varieties of English.

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Williams (2000) provides a detailed analysis of this phenomenon in Welsh English, which he terms predicate fronting. He detects two types of predicate fronting, distinguished according to the amount of new information contained in the fronted constituent. He argues that predicate fronting as it occurs in the now-Englishspeaking valley communities of south-east Wales “appears to be distinguished by a relatively small ‘quantity’ of new information appearing in the fronted constituent and consisting mainly of a reformulation of previous, immediately accessible textual material for modal purposes” (Williams 2000: 226). In his other data, however, collected in bilingual Llandeilo in west Wales, “The ‘fronted’ element is textually and situationally new, and there is no modal component” (Williams 2000: 227). Williams suggests that the first type is the more ‘anglicised’ kind of Welsh English predicate fronting, where a modal component has been added to a structure transferred from the Welsh language in which the “pragmatic function” (Williams 2000: 224) of the fronted constituent is merely to provide new information. It is a subtle but interesting distinction.

5.

Periphrastic verb phrases and periphrastic progressive verb phrases

Here we have a fascinating area of variation in Welsh English syntax, in which there is, to an extent, competition between non-standard constructions caused by Welsh-language influence, non-standard constructions caused by dialectal English English influence, and Standard English constructions. The first type are periphrastic (that is, involving the use of separate words rather than inflections) progressive be verb phrases, and the second are periphrastic do verb phrases. Taking the second type first, a periphrastic do verb phrase in Welsh English consists of unstressed and uninflected auxiliary do and the base form of a main verb. There is also a corresponding past tense structure: unstressed auxiliary did + base form of main verb. Ihalainen (1976) investigated and discussed such phrases in traditional East Somerset English, in which they are used to refer to repeated or habitual activity. The assumption has been that, where they occur in Welsh English, these do phrases are the result of influence from and contact with the dialects of the west and south-west of England. Klemola (2002) updates the discussion of periphrastic do in English English, and adds another perspective to Welsh and English contact in this matter, to which I will return shortly. Unlike these do phrases, periphrastic progressive be verb phrases can be found in present-day British Standard English. Take, for example, the present progressive: unstressed and inflected auxiliary be + -ing form of main verb, which refers to an event or action in progress in present time; or the past progressive: unstressed and inflected past tense auxiliary be + -ing form of main verb, referring to an event or action in progress in past time. The ‘nonstandardness’ of such constructions in Welsh English arises because they can be used to express different (from standard)

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meanings, and it seems clear that the explanation for this lies in Welsh-language influence. This area of Welsh English syntax is discussed in detail in Penhallurick (1996) and in Pitkänen (2003), but it was Thomas (1985) who set the template. Focusing on southern Welsh English, he identified the following “parallel occurrences” (1985: 214) in the present habitual: (37)

He goes to the cinema every week – inflected present (standard);

(38)

He do go to the cinema every week – uninflected do (unstressed) + uninflected main verb;

(39)

He’s going to the cinema every week – inflected be (unstressed) + inflected main verb (-ing form)

Thomas’s view (1985: 215) was that “the do pattern is characteristic of dialects which have a relatively long historical connection with the English dialects of the West Midlands – i.e. they fit into a dialect subcontinuum which reaches out from neighbouring English counties”, whilst “the be pattern is characteristic of the speech of those who have a dominant Welsh-language influence”. Thomas pointed out that there is a direct correlation of be forms with a present habitual construction in the Welsh language, for example in Mae ef yn mynd i’r sinema bob wythnos, which translates literally as ‘He is going to the cinema every week’. The structure is: bod (realized as mae) ‘be’ + subject nominal (ef ‘he’) + linking yn + uninflected main verb (mynd ‘go’), the truly literal translation thus being ‘Is he in go to the cinema every week’. Thomas noted also (1985: 214) that there was a matching set of past habitual contrasts: (40)

He went/used to go to the cinema every week

(41)

He did go to the cinema every week

(42)

He was going to the cinema every week

SAWD data for south Wales, as summarized in Parry (1999: 110–112), shows do forms sporadically across the south: in south Pembrokeshire, the Gower Peninsula, and south-east Wales. The presence of these forms in south Pembrokeshire and Gower, on the face of it, implies that their point of origin should not be restricted to the West Midlands of England, but should encompass south-west England, too (though precisely how and when these forms arrived in these areas is open to debate). Klemola’s maps (reproduced in 2002: 201–202) show that the geographical distribution of “unstressed periphrastic DO in affirmative statements” in traditional dialects, from the mid-nineteenth century to the mid-twentieth, encompasses all of the south-western corner of England, from Herefordshire to Dorset to Cornwall, with the exception of Devonshire. Klemola also makes a case, cautiously, for the idea that periphrastic do arose in English English as a result (or perhaps partly as

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a result) of Celtic influence: “the geographical distribution of periphrastic DO supports the conclusion that Celtic, especially Brythonic, contact influence may be a factor in explaining the origin of periphrastic DO in English” (Klemola 2002: 208). Klemola mentions (2002: 206) a Welsh construction “with a verb corresponding to periphrastic DO” attested before the late thirteenth century, the period when it seems that periphrastic DO appeared in English. This raises the intriguing but no doubt unprovable possibility that the do forms in Welsh English derive ultimately from Welsh influence. Pitkänen (2003) suggests the further possibility that auxiliary gwneud ‘do’ in Welsh might have reinforced (rather than caused) the use of periphrastic do in Welsh English. Returning to SAWD data (Parry 1999: 110–111), and moving north in Wales, we see do forms petering out whilst periphrastic progressive be phrases become more common. The most complete listing of be constructions is in Penhallurick (1996), in which the data from northern Wales confirms the association of be forms with strong Welsh-language influence and reinforces Thomas’s perception of the association of do forms with longerstanding anglicization. Penhallurick (1996) lists 112 examples: 110 instances of non-standard periphrastic progressive be phrases, and two of non-standard periphrastic do phrases. The overwhelming majority of be items were obtained in localities where the first language of the 60plus age-group was Welsh, and indeed all but three of the 110 were obtained from first-language-Welsh informants. The northern Welsh English data exhibits considerable heterogeneity in the be forms, with the progressive tendency spreading beyond the habitual aspects (just as there is a present habitual construction in the Welsh language that can be translated into an English progressive construction, so are there similar types of construction in Welsh representing the past habitual, the present perfective and the future tense). Penhallurick (1996) presents a comprehensive classification of the be items, making use of five main semantic categories in addition to the present habitual and past habitual: (i) -ing form of northern Welsh English verb corresponding to a Standard English base form: you got to put this sharp side ... to cut the mouth ... to make it bleeding (referring to breaking in a horse, using a special bit); (ii) reference to future time: if they don’t receive the first time she’s (h)avin’ another chance (referring to a cow not ‘taking’ to a bull); (iii) state present, for example: those that are keeping wild birds; (iv) present perfective, for example: I have been using it myself; (v) state past, for example: thirty years ago Lord Harlech was rearing them (i.e. pheasants) Pitkänen’s work attempts to update the picture by assessing the frequency of occurrence of non-standard progressive forms in her south-west Wales, north Wales, and SAWD Phase 2 corpora compared with rural SAWD. What she finds overall is that the use of the progressive forms in their ‘basic’ non-standard habitual as-

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pect remains pretty consistent throughout her corpora, but also that standard forms are used more in her newer corpora, apparently at the expense of progressive forms in the other semantic categories.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Ihalainen, Ossi 1976 Periphrastic do in affirmative sentences in the dialect of East Somerset. Neuphilologische Mitteilungen 77: 608–622. Klemola, Juhani 2002 Periphrastic DO: dialectal distribution and origins. In: Markku Filppula, Juhani Klemola and Heli Pitkänen (eds.), The Celtic Roots of English, 199–210. Joensuu: Faculty of Humanities, University of Joensuu. Parry, David 1967 Some features of Gower dialects. The Anglo-Welsh Review 16: 130–135. 1979a Notes on the Glamorgan Dialects. Swansea: privately published. Parry, David (ed.) 1977 The Survey of Anglo-Welsh Dialects, Volume 1: The South-East. Swansea. privately published. 1979b The Survey of Anglo-Welsh Dialects, Volume 2: The South-West. Swansea. privately published. 1999 A Grammar and Glossary of the Conservative Anglo-Welsh Dialects of Rural Wales. Sheffield: National Centre for English Cultural Tradition. Penhallurick, Robert J. 1991 The Anglo-Welsh Dialects of North Wales: A Survey of Conservative Rural Spoken English in the Counties of Gwynedd and Clwyd. Frankfurt am Main: Lang. 1994 Gowerland and its Language: A History of the English Speech of the Gower Peninsula, South Wales. Frankfurt am Main: Lang. 1996 The grammar of Northern Welsh English: progressive verb phrases. In: Juhani Klemola, Merja Kytö and Matti Rissanen (eds.), Speech Past and Present: Studies in English Dialectology in Memory of Ossi Ihalainen, 308–342. Frankfurt am Main: Lang. Pitkänen, Heli 2003 Non-standard uses of the progressive form in Welsh English: an apparent time study. In: Tristram (ed.), 111–128. Thomas, Alan 1985 Welsh English: a grammatical conspectus. In: Viereck (ed.), 213–221. Tristram, Hildegard L.C. 2002 The politics of language: links between Modern Welsh and English. In: Katja Lenz and Ruth Möhlig (eds.), Of Dyuersitie and Change of Langage: Essays

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Presented to Manfred Görlach on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday, 257–275. Heidelberg: Winter. Williams, Malcolm 2000 The pragmatics of predicate fronting in Welsh English. In: Tristram (ed.), 210–230.

English dialects in the North of England: morphology and syntax Joan Beal

1.

Introduction

Typologies of English dialects have tended to be based mainly on phonetic and phonological criteria. Both Wakelin (1983) and Trudgill (1999) classify dialects entirely according to phonological/phonetic criteria, whilst Ellis (1869), includes only one feature which might be considered morphological: the form of the definite article. In our chapter on the phonology of the dialects in the North (see Beal, other volume) we discussed the fact that only two phonological features, // in STRUT/FOOT, and short /a/ in BATH, unite the whole of the North (albeit including much of the Midlands as well). All other features discussed in that chapter differentiate part or parts of the North from others: for instance, /h/ retention is confined to the far Northeast and lack of // as a distinctive phoneme to the far South-west of the region. As far as morphology and syntax are concerned, there are likewise very few features which both distinguish Northern dialects from those of the South and Midlands, and can be found throughout the North. With regard to morphology, syntax and lexis, the differences between Northern dialects are more transparently linked to the external histories of the regions and cities. In the far North, there is a continuum of morphological and syntactic features stretching from Tyneside to beyond the Scottish border, a testimony both to the shared history of these regions, formerly united in Anglo-Saxon Bernicia, and to continuing migration from the Central belt of Scotland to Tyneside (see Beal 1993, 1997). Further South, the “Scandinavian belt”, stretching North-west to South-east from Cumbria to East Anglia, taking in all of Yorkshire and part of Durham, but excluding Northumberland, is evidenced in morphological features such as the at relative (Poussa 2002), and the presence of many lexical items of Scandinavian origin (e.g. beck, contrasting with Anglo-Saxon burn in Northumberland, brook in Lancashire and Cheshire). More recent evidence of contact can be found in the use of second plural yous in areas of high Irish immigration from the 19th century: Liverpool, Newcastle and inner-city Manchester within this area, as well as Glasgow, New York and urban Australia outside England. Wherever possible, illustrative examples used in this chapter are taken from corpora of Northern English dialects, all collected within the second half of the 20th century. Two of these, the Newcastle Electronic Corpus of Tyneside English

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(NECTE) and the Corpus of Sheffield Usage (CSU) are currently being prepared for online access (www.ncl.ac.uk/necte, www.shef.ac.uk/english/natcect). The other corpora used here are those collected by Petyt (1985) in West Yorkshire, Cave (2001) in South Yorkshire and Shorrocks (1999) in Bolton, Greater Manchester. These corpora do not cover the whole of the North of England, but this is inevitable given the patchy nature of dialect studies carried out in this area. Anderwald (2002) acknowledges that the geographical coverage of the British National Corpus is likewise uneven. A more even distribution is provided by the Survey of English Dialects (SED) and by Cheshire, Edwards and Whittle (1993), but in both these cases the information on geographical distribution of non-standard features of syntax and morphology is obtained from questionnaire responses rather than actual utterances, and as such may reflect the speakers’ passive knowledge of those features rather than actual usage. Reference will be made to the SED ‘Basic Material’ volumes (Orton and Halliday 1962), in order to illustrate patterns of usage in more ‘traditional’ and/or rural dialects, since all the corpora referred to above were collected in urban areas.

2.

Morphology

2.1.

Irregular verbs

Several verbs have different past tense and/or past participle forms in Northern dialects. The -en ending for the past participle is more common in Northern dialects than in Standard English. Examples of such forms are getten, putten, and squozen (compared to Standard English got, put, squeezed). Of these, getten and putten are attested in the North-east (McDonald 1981), and putten and squozen in Bolton (Shorrocks 1999: 135–148), but such forms could well be more widespread, given that these two studies are from opposite ends of the North. In a number of cases, the past tense and past participle forms are identical. Examples of this can be found in Table 1 below. Table 1.

Verbs with ‘levelled’ past tense and past participle forms in Northern English dialects

Base

Past Tense

Past Participle

bite break do fall freeze

bit broke done fell froze / froz / hung

bit broke done fell froze / frz / hung

hang (‘to execute’)

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Table 1. (continued) Base

Past Tense

Past Participle

go ring sing speak swim take write

went rang/rung sang/sung spoke swam/swum took wrote

went rang/rung* sang/sung* spoke swam/swum* took wrote

*

In all cases, the a forms are found in the North-east, and the u forms in Bolton. The same patterns would be found with wring.

In some cases, the same form is used for present tense, past tense and past participle: examples of this are come and give. The forms in Table 1 have either the past tense or the past participle form identical with that of Standard English. However, other verbs with ‘levelled’ paradigms have a non-standard form for both past tense and past participle in Northern English dialects. Tret for Standard English treated is found in Tyneside (Beal 1993), and West Yorkshire (Petyt 1985: 232), but not in Bolton (Shorrocks 1999). Others, such as telled, selled (pronounced / tlt, slt / in the North-east, tld, sld / elsewhere), have ‘regular’ forms where the Standard English equivalent is irregular told, sold. 2.2.

Nouns

2.2.1. Plural forms A few instances of non-standard, irregular plural forms are found in Northern English dialects. Childer is found in both Bolton (Shorrocks 1999: 62) and West Yorkshire, but in the latter case, Petyt tells us that this was restricted to “two elderly Huddersfield informants” (1985: 231). In the North-east, the word child is less likely to be used by speakers of traditional dialect, who would use bairn. Shorrocks (1999: 63) also gives een and shoon for Standard English eyes and shoes. A more widespread pattern is the regularisation in Northern English dialects of the paradigm in which Standard English has an alternation between voiceless and voiced fricatives in singular and plural. Thus knifes, roofs, wifes, are found in contrast to Standard English hooves, knives, wives, and wreaths is pronounced /ris/ as opposed to Standard English /ri z/ (Shorrocks 1999: 60). After numerals, nouns of weight, measure and quantity, often lack the plural marker in Northern dialects, as in other non-standard dialects of British English. An example from the NECTE corpus is:

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I lived in with my mother for not quite two year.

2.2.2. Possessive forms Plurals and proper nouns ending in -s take the possessive ending ’s (pronounced / z) in Northern English dialects. Thus the disinfectant is called Jeyes’s Fluid, and Marks and Spencer is popularly referred to as Marks’s in the North. An example of a plural with this form is it’s other folks’s (Shorrocks 1999: 64). 2.3.

Pronouns

Personal pronouns in Northern dialects differ from those in Standard English at several points in the paradigm. 2.3.1. First person pronouns The first person singular object form is often us, rather than me. In the North-east, us is used as both direct and indirect object, thus in the following examples from the NECTE corpus, the context makes it clear that the speaker is referring to herself in (2) and quoting a taxi-driver referring to himself in (3): (2)

He telt us he was having a party, but he didn’t tell us like… when.

(3)

Oh, thanks pal. Thanks, you’re the first person that’s give us a tip.

However, examples from Bolton and West Yorkshire show it only as indirect object: Lend it us (Shorrocks 1999: 76) and give us a sweet (Petyt 1985: 231). Where the pronoun is conjoined with another pronoun or a noun, me is used throughout the North, thus: (4)

So he says to me and our Jack (Shorrocks 1999: 77)

(5)

They used to lock me and my mum in the top bedrooms. (NECTE)

Me is also used throughout the North for the first person subject form when the pronoun is conjoined with another pronoun or a noun, thus: (6)

Me and my mam and dad are going out for a meal. (NECTE)

(7)

Him and me were there (Shorrocks 1999: 78).

As shown in (7), this rule applies to all personal pronouns. In the North-east, ‘pronoun-exchange’ occurs in the first person plural, with we /w/ used for the object form, and, less frequently, us for the subject form. This contradicts the view stated in Ihalainen (1994: 231) that pronoun exchange is confined to western dialects of English. Examples are:

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(8)

You can come with we to that as well. (NECTE)

(9)

Us’ll do it (Macdonald 1980).

The first person plural possessive pronoun takes various forms in different Northern dialects. In the North-east, wor is found, as in: (10)

Wor Thomas’ll be fourteen on Christmas Day, and wor little Steven, that’s the seventh; he’ll be ten. (NECTE)

This was formerly more widespread as Wright (1892) records it in Windhill, West Yorkshire. The most common form in West and South Yorkshire now is us as in: (11)

We all take us cars to work nowadays (Petyt 1985: 190).

2.3.2. Second person pronouns In Northern dialects, two different strategies are used to retain the earlier English distinction between singular and plural in the second person. In most of the North, excluding only Tyneside, Northumberland and Liverpool, singular thou and thee are retained in more traditional dialects. The subject/object distinction is often neutralised in / a/, and use of thou/thee forms often depends on the addressee, as in Early Modern English. In South Yorkshire, the term thee-ing and tha-ing is used (cf. French tutoyer) to describe inappropriate use of the thou form, thus: (12)

Thee thee and tha thyself and see how thou likes it. (CSU)

Cave (2001) conducted an ethnographic study of the language of the former mining community in Barnsley, South Yorkshire. He found that use of thou/thee forms was confined to men in the corpus he collected, but that the wives of the former miners admitted to using these forms to their husbands in their homes. Shorrocks also finds thou/thee forms used for the second person singular in Bolton, and some evidence that you is still used as a polite form in the singular: “there are still sons in the Bolton area who appear to use only the yo form when addressing their fathers” (1999: 74). In the North-east, thou is still used by older speakers as far north as county Durham, but not north of the Tyne. Northumberland lacked thou even in traditional dialects. Here ye was found for second person singular subject in the SED. This usage continues throughout the North-east today, as in: (13)

Well ye haven’t got any. (NECTE)

In the Tyneside conurbation, as in Liverpool and inner-city Manchester, the plural form yous is used. (14)

Yous’ll have Thomas next year. (referring to the whole class) (NECTE)

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Cheshire, Edwards and Whittle (1993) demonstrate that plural yous appears to be diffusing from inner-city areas, but it would appear that the ultimate origin of this form is in Irish English. The English Dialect Dictionary (Wright 1898–1905) cites it as occurring in Ireland, the USA and Australia, but not in England or Scotland. 2.3.3. Third person pronouns There is less variation both between Northern dialects and Standard English, and between dialects in the North, with regard to third person pronouns. The objective form is used for the subject when this is either conjoined (as in [7] above) or when it is separated from the verb or is emphatic, as in (15)

I think she likes getting bathed her. (NECTE)

(16)

Her and her son are still living there. (NECTE)

(17)

You-know, her that’s always late. (NECTE)

In other positions, North-eastern dialects have the subjective form, as in (15), but in Bolton, her is used here as well for the feminine form. The earlier form of this pronoun in Lancashire was hoo, but Shorrocks notes that this is now recessive (1999: 72–73). 2.3.4. Reflexive pronouns Throughout the North, the paradigm of reflexives is regularised, so that all persons consist of the possessive + -self/selves. Thus, as well as myself, yourself, thyself, we have hisself, theirselves. Self/selves are realised as -sel/sels, or (mainly in Yorkshire.) -sen/sens. In Bolton, the objective form of the pronoun may also be used as a reflexive (see Shorrocks 1999: 91–94 for a full explanation of this). Examples from Shorrocks are: (18)

they did it theirsel

(19)

he codded ‘issel (= ‘deceived’)

(20)

he wouldn’t shift ‘im (= ‘move’)

2.4.

Demonstratives

The most common forms of the demonstrative throughout the North are this, these, that and them. Only the latter differs from Standard English. In the North-east, they is used (cf. Scots thae), but even here, them is more common. There are traces of the three-term deictic system in Northern dialects, the third term usually being yon or yonder. This is shown to be quite extensive in the SED, but Shorrocks (1999: 54)

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notes that yon refers, not to something distant, but to a ‘known referent’, so that yon mon may refer to a man not present, but known to all interlocutors, or easily identified from the preceding conversation. In this way, it is similar to Irish English your man. Emphasis can also be added by adding here to this and there to that, and, at least in Lancashire and Yorkshire tother is also used as a third deictic term. 2.5.

Definite and indefinite articles

2.5.1. Reduction of the definite article In the North-east, definite and indefinite articles have the same form as in Standard English. The syntactic constructions in which they are used differ from Standard English, but this will be discussed in 4.4.1. and 4.4.2. below. In the rest of the North, especially in Lancashire and Yorkshire, there is variation between full and reduced or zero forms of the definite and indefinite articles. Jones (2002: 325) notes that reduction of the definite article “is perhaps the most stereotypical feature of northern British English dialects, especially those of Yorkshire and Lancashire”. The reduction may take the form of /t/, //, // a preglottalised plosive, or zero. In the semiphonetic spellings used in dialect literature and popular representations of Northern dialect, these are usually presented as t’ or th’ or the article is simply omitted. The distribution of these variants differs across dialects, age groups and social classes. Petyt (1985: 196–200) notes that the commonest reduced form in his data was the glottal stop, and that fricative forms were rare, confined to Huddersfield and part of Halifax (as opposed to Bradford) and only occurred prevocalically. Shorrocks gives a more detailed phonetic analysis of the variants in his Bolton corpus (1999: 23–31). Before consonants, the definite article is realised as a glottal stop or preglottalised consonant, depending on the phonetic environment, whilst before vowels, the // realisation is much more common than in Petyt’s West Yorkshire data (which was collected at about the same time, in the early 1970s). Whilst this was a minority usage in Petyt’s data, Shorrocks notes “there are no exceptions to the use of // before a vowel/diphthong” (1999: 29). In Bolton, zero forms of the definite article occur in certain phonetic contexts, notably after a fortis fricative, as in across (the) road. Zero forms are, however, more widely distributed in East Yorkshire, and Tagliamonte and Ito (2002: 245–246) report that the “zero definite article” is one of a number of dialect features “widely represented” in Tagliamonte’s corpus of York English. Jones (2002: 342) suggests that this represents the final stage in a historical process of reduction from //→ /t/→//→ zero. 2.5.2. Loss of the indefinite article The indefinite article may be realised as zero in some Northern dialects. I have not found any instances of this in the NECTE corpus, and would suspect that the geo-

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graphical distribution of this is similar to that of reduced forms of the definite article discussed in 2.6.1. above. Shorrocks notes that “in the dialect of the Bolton area, the indefinite article is very often not used at all by comparison with S[tandard].E[nglish]. – or it frequently has a zero realisation. There is no rule to predict any individual case.” (1999: 47). There are also instances of zero realisation in the CSU data, so we can conclude that this is found in Yorkshire as well as Lancashire. Examples are: (21)

It were lovely summer (Shorrocks 1999: 47).

(22)

Aye, but he were ironmonger (Shorrocks 1999: 47).

(23)

I’d buy house there if I’d got t’ money. (CSU)

2.6.

Adjectives

In Northern dialects, as in most non-Standard dialects of British English, comparative and superlative forms of adjectives may be doubly marked. Examples are: (24)

Because you were more fitter (Shorrocks 1999).

(25)

She’s got the most loveliest clothes (Beal 1993: 209).

2.7.

Adverbs

Shorrocks notes that “a great many adverbs in the dialect have the same form as the adjective” (1999: 199). This also applies to adverbials used as degree modifiers. Examples (all from Shorrocks 1999) are: (26)

I told thee confidential.

(27)

Do it good.

(28)

A high technical job.

Tagliamonte and Ito (2002) report that this phenomenon is found in all dialects of British English (as well as many outside Britain), but that the constraints on variation between zero and -ly forms are more conservative in Northern dialects such as that of York. 3.

Syntactic linkage

3.1.

Number agreement

3.1.1. The ‘Northern Subject Rule’ Traditionally, all Northern English dialects observe the ‘Northern Subject Rule’, according to which the verb takes -s in the plural where the subject is a noun or

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noun phrase, but not when it is a pronoun. Beal and Corrigan (2000) found that this rule still operates in Tyneside English with lexical verbs, though not with be. Examples from the NECTE corpus are: (29)

Our young one’s mates talks something like you.

(30)

We visit her mam.

The constraint against using the -s form after pronouns was particularly strong, but the use of -s after plural noun subjects was found to be more common after conjoined nouns, as in: (31)

Aye, and your sister and your mam comes out. (NECTE)

3.1.2. Was/were With regard to the past tense of the verb be, Northern English dialects show a variety of patterns. Accounts of the traditional dialects of Yorkshire and Lancashire (Wright 1892; Ellis 1869–1889) suggest that the typical pattern in these areas was one in which were occurred with all subjects, singular and plural. Shorrocks (1999: 168) states that were is used throughout his Bolton corpus, but Petyt (1985: 196) finds this pattern confined to working-class speech in his corpus of West Yorkshire. Tagliamonte (1998) found that, in York, the tendency was for was to be used in positive clauses, and were in negative clauses, such as: (32)

I was, weren’t I?

(33)

You was, weren’t you?

The more usual pattern in the North-east is for was to be used throughout, even with the pronouns we, you, they where the Northern Subject Rule would normally prohibit use of the -s forms. However, some examples of were with singular subjects have been found in the NECTE corpus. The following two examples are from the same informant: (34)

When I were about fourteen… or fifteen.

(35)

I was dropped in at the deep end.

3.1.3. Existentials Beal and Corrigan (2000) note that the use of the singular verb form after existential there is categorical for working-class males in the NECTE corpus, and becoming near categorical for working-class females. Examples from the corpus are: (36)

There was quite a few mines.

(37)

There is more women coming into bus driving.

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3.1.4. Relic forms Apart from the patterns discussed above, there are a few non-standard patterns of agreement which can still be heard as ‘relic’ forms, mostly from older speakers. These include thou art in dialects which retain second person singular thou (see 2.3.2. above), i.e. South Lancashire and South-west Yorkshire. I’s is found throughout the North in the SED material (Upton, Parry and Widdowson 1994: 494), but does not occur in any of the modern corpora used here. However, Shorrocks (1999: 116) notes the use of -s endings for first person singular “when describing habitual behaviour”. Shorrocks also notes a few instances of plural -en in his Bolton corpus, but points out that “the use of these endings (which go back to Middle English) must now be accounted highly residual” (1999: 114). 4.

Syntax

4.1.

Negation

4.1.1. Auxiliary contraction As in Scots, have, be and will (‘ll) may be negated by uncontracted not in Northern dialects. In the North-east, can is also negated in this way, but the not is unstressed, so that the negated form is pronounced /’kan t/. In more conservative dialects of the North-east, the form /w n t/ or /w nt/ for will + not is also used. Trudgill (1984: 33) suggests that the frequency of this pattern of auxiliary contraction increases “the further north one goes” in Britain. However, Anderwald (2002: 75−78) notes that be favours auxiliary contraction in all dialects of British English. Her study, based on the British National Corpus, shows that auxiliary contraction is neither as common in Northern dialects, nor as restricted to the North, as Trudgill suggested. This may be due to the limitations of the BNC material, though, for, as the following examples from the NECTE corpus demonstrate, auxiliary contraction is found with a range of modal and auxiliary verbs in the North-east. Even here, though, as in (39), negative contraction is more common with have. (38)

Neil’s not letting you go.

(39)

Definitely haven’t got sea-legs like.

Examples of other modal verbs with uncontracted not, all from the NECTE corpus are: (40)

Yous’ll not be in town this Saturday.

(41)

We cannot let like a group of twelve lads in all at once.

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The modals would and could take negative contraction, as in: (42)

Well you said we couldn’t all come in at once.

(43)

You wouldn’t get one in there.

In dialects of the ‘lower north’, notably Lancashire and Yorkshire, there is also a pattern of secondary contraction, where both the auxiliary and the negator are contacted. Here, forms such as isn’t, couldn’t, shouldn’t are contracted to / nt, knt, nt/ etc. and hasn’t/hadn’t become homophonous as /ant/. These forms are attested by both Petyt (1985: 179–189) and Shorrocks (1999: 153, 167, 172, 177). In the North-east, the negative of do can be divvent, or don’t for first and second person singular and all persons in the plural, with doesn’t for third person singular. Examples from the NECTE corpus are: (44)

Divvent get us confused.

(45)

I don’t know who.

These two examples are consecutive utterances from the same speaker. 4.1.2. Negation in interrogatives In some Northern English dialects, negation in interrogatives and tags shows systematic variation between forms with contracted and uncontracted negators. Shorrocks (1999: 180−181) states that, in the Bolton dialect, a negative tag following a positive proposition is contracted, but following a negative proposition is uncontracted, as in: (46)

It rained, didn’t it?

(47)

It didn’t rain, did it not?

In the North-east, an even more complex pattern is found. A negative clause followed by auxiliary + subject + not is used when information is sought, as in: (48)

She can’t come, can she not?

A negative clause followed by auxiliary + n’t + subject + not is used when confirmation of the negative is sought, as in: (49)

She can’t come, can’t she not?

This pattern is also used in negative questions, where the speaker knows very well that the answer is no, but requires confirmation, possibly to settle a dispute with a third party. It is often used by children appealing to adult arbitration. An example would be: (50)

Can’t Jack not swim?

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Here, what is implied is that everybody knows that Jack can’t swim, but Jack is denying this. A similar contrast occurs between two patterns for negative tags following positive clauses, with auxiliary + subject + not used when asking for information, and auxiliary + n’t + subject, when asking for confirmation. Examples of these would be: (51)

She can come, can she not?

(52)

She can come, can’t she?

Examples 49–52 are taken from McDonald and Beal (1987), but examples from the NECTE corpus are: (53)

Had they not?

(54)

Oh, will you not be nice to her for once?

(55)

Did you not see the teeth?

In all of these, there is an element of surprise or exasperation, suggesting that the uncontracted negative in an interrogative or tag has an emphatic force. 4.1.3. Multiple negation Some of the patterns discussed in 4.1.2. involve multiple negation. This is generally assumed to be a feature of non-standard English which is common to all regional dialects. However, Cheshire, Edwards and Whittle (1993) and Anderwald (2002) find that, whilst multiple negation is indeed found in all dialects of British English, it is less frequent in the North. The exception to this pattern in Anderwald’s study is the North-east, where the frequency of multiple negation is similar to that found in the South. Anderwald attributes this to the innovative nature of the dialect of Tyneside, but it is possible that the higher frequency in Tyneside could be in part due to patterns such as those in (49) and (50) above. Multiple negation is found in Bolton, in West Yorkshire, and in the North-east. Examples are: (56)

I’m not never going to do nowt more for thee (Shorrocks 1999: 193–194).

(57)

He couldn’t get a job nowhere (Petyt 1985: 238).

(58)

You’re not getting none off me. (NECTE)

4.1.4. Non-emphatic never Throughout the North, never is used as a general negator, with reference to a single occasion. Examples are:

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(59)

I never eat (ate) no dinner (referring to one specific occasion) (Shorrocks 1999: 193).

(60)

He never dropped like a set… against anybody. (referring to a specific tennis match) (NECTE)

As in Scots, never ever is used to express unambiguously the meaning ‘at no time’ as in: (61)

They never ever talk about stuff like that…never. (NECTE)

4.2.

Modal verbs

The system of modal verbs in the North-east, especially Tyneside and Northumberland, is more like that of Scots than that of Standard English and English dialects in the South and Midlands. Some features of the modal system are shared by all northern dialects, but others are only found in the far North-east. 4.2.1. Shall, may and ought These three modal verbs are hardly used at all in the North-east. May is rare in northern dialects generally (Shorrocks 1999: 154), but, whilst Shorrocks demonstrates (see examples 62 and 63) that both shall and ought are used in Bolton, albeit in dialectal forms, they are very rare in the NECTE corpus. In the North-east, will is used even in the one context in which it is compulsory for speakers of other English dialects, in first person questions, as in (64). Instead of may, can is used in the sense of ‘permission’ (65) and might in the sense of ‘possibility’ (66). (62)

Theawst (= thou shalt) have one if we can manage it.

(63)

He didn’t ought to have done it.

(64)

Will I put the kettle on?

(65)

He’s busy at the moment. Can I get him to call you later?

(66)

Oh, well my spirit might be there but...guarantee I’ll never get back in there

4.2.2. Must, have to and (have) got to In North-eastern dialects of English, must is used to express conclusions, not obligation. This applies to both positive and negative clauses. Examples are: (67)

She was, she … must have been drunk. (NECTE)

(68)

The lift mustn’t be working (McDonald and Beal 1987).

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Shorrocks (1999: 157) notes that mustn’t to express conclusions is also ‘permitted’ in Bolton. There seems to be a North-South gradient here: in Scots and North-eastern English dialects, must is only used with the meaning of conclusion, in the ‘middle North’, both conclusion and obligation meanings are possible, and in the South (and Standard English), the ‘conclusion’ meaning is not permitted in the negative. In North-eastern dialects, obligation is expressed by have to or (have) got to. In the negative, this gives haven’t got to a different meaning from that of Standard English: in the North-east, this means ‘you are obliged not to’, i.e. you mustn’t, whereas further South, it means ‘you are not obliged to’. (69)

They have to keep … extending and-that. They keep building. (NECTE)

(70)

We’ve got to stay awake. (NECTE)

(71)

Well you played the game, you got to pay the consequences. (NECTE)

4.2.3. Double modals There is a ‘rule’ of Standard English that only one modal verb can appear in a single verb phrase. Thus, He must be able to do it is ‘grammatical’ whilst *He must can do it is not. In North-eastern dialects of English, this rule does not apply so long as the second modal is can or could. Thus the asterisked sentence would be grammatical in these dialects. More combinations of modals are allowed in Scots than in Northeastern English dialects, and more are allowed in the dialect of rural Northumberland than in that of urban Tyneside. For instance, the combination of would and could only appears in the urban area if a negative is involved, but also appears in the positive in rural Northumberland. Examples from McDonald (1981: 186–187) are: (72)

I can’t play on a Friday. I work late. I might could get it changed, though.

(73)

The girls usually make me some (toasted sandwiches) but they mustn’t could have made any today.

(74)

He wouldn’t could’ve worked, even if you had asked him. (Tyneside)

(75)

A good machine clipper would could do it in half a day. (Northumberland)

Whilst these double modal constructions are found in Scots and in some dialects of the southern USA, the only area of England in which they occur is Northumberland and Tyneside. Even here, they are rare and probably recessive: the only example found in the NECTE corpus is: (76)

You’ll probably not can remember, but during the war there wasn’t wool.

The rarity of these constructions in corpora may be due to the fact that the need to use them only arises in certain circumstances. I have witnessed first-hand the

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consternation caused when my (Northumbrian) husband announced to a dinnerparty of linguists We might could do with some more potatoes up here. However, elicitation tests do seem to confirm that double modals are recessive in the Northeast of England. McDonald (1981) found that 15.42% of respondents from north of Durham found sentences with double modals were either wholly acceptable and normal or somewhere between. In a later survey, Beal and Corrigan (2000) found that only 9.37% of a sample of 16–17-year-olds from Bedlington, Northumberland, found the same sentences either ‘natural’ or ‘familiar’, whilst 90.63% found them ‘alien’. The acceptability of the constructions was higher amongst workingclass children, who may well still hear them used by their grandparents. 4.2.4. Can and could We saw in 4.2.3. above, that in the ‘double modal’ constructions used in the Northeast of England, the second verb is always can or could. These two verbs behave less like other modal verbs in other ways. In Standard English, certain adverbs are placed before main verbs but after modals, thus I only swam two lengths but I could only swim two lengths. In the North-east, these adverbs are placed before can and could, as in the following examples from McDonald (1981: 214): (77)

That’s what I say to people. If they only could walk a little, they should thank God.

(78)

She just can reach the gate.

These two verbs are also used in perfective constructions, where Standard English would require be able to: (79)

He cannot get a job since he’s left school. (Standard English hasn’t been able to)

(80)

I says it’s a bit of a disappointment, nurse. I thought I could’ve brought it back again. (Standard English ‘would have been able to’; both examples from McDonald 1981: 215–216).

Even in Standard English, can and could are less ‘modal’ than the other modal verbs, since they are the only pair with a genuine present/past tense relationship. In North-eastern dialects, they are even less ‘modal’, which perhaps accounts for the survival of ‘double modal’ constructions only with these verbs in second place. 4.3.

Interrogatives

Dialects of the North-east have certain interrogative constructions in common with Scots. There is no evidence in either Shorrocks (1999) or Petyt (1985) for these constructions occurring further south.

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In both Scotland and the North-east of England how is used for Standard English why, so how’s that? is a request for an explanation of a previous statement. In both these dialects, it is also common for indirect questions to have the same constituent order as direct questions, as in: (81)

I asked him did he want some tea.

In all Northern dialects, what is used more frequently than which in interrogatives, and prepositions are placed at the end of interrogative clauses. An example is: (82)

What pit did t’work at? (Standard English ‘At which pit did you work?) (Shorrocks 1999: 55).

4.4.

Non-standard distribution of articles and possessives

4.4.1. The definite article In dialects of the North-east of England, as in Scots, the definite article is used with a range of nouns which would not take it in Standard English. These are names of institutions, illnesses, periods of time, games, relatives and even numerals. Examples from the NECTE corpus are: (83)

Going over to the girlfriend’s concert first though.

(84)

So what are you doing in college the morrow?

(85)

I think Karen and Kell are going down there the-night.

(86)

So I never really started work ‘til I was about the fifteen.

(87)

Well, I’ve got a little laddie that gans to the Beacon Lough. (‘Beacon Lough’ is the name of a school)

There is no mention of such uses of the definite article in Petyt (1985), but Shorrocks (1999: 31–42) gives examples in all the categories mentioned above. It would appear that such non-standard uses of the definite article are more widespread in the North of England than had been supposed, since they occur in the southern part of this region (Greater Manchester) as well as the far North. 4.4.2. The indefinite article In the North-east, the indefinite article is used with one. In Standard English, this can occur if an adjective is interposed as in: (88)

Would you like a drink? Yes, I’ll have a small one.

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In dialects of the North-east of England, this constraint does not apply, thus: (89)

Would you like a drink? Aye, I’ll have a one.

4.4.3. Possessives It is common throughout the North to use the first person plural possessive pronoun with the names of, or nouns denoting, family members. Examples are: (90)

Like wor lass wears a ring on that finger. (NECTE)

(91)

Wor Thomas’ll be fourteen on Christmas Day, and wor little Steven, that’s the seventh; he’ll be ten. (NECTE)

Here, the Tyneside pronoun wor corresponds to our elsewhere in the North. A (younger) sibling will be referred to as our kid, especially in Liverpool and Lancashire, where this phrase is also used to address a close friend (cf. brother/sister in African American Vernacular English). As in Scots, possessive pronouns are used throughout the North to refer to anything very familiar. Examples from Shorrocks (1999: 49–50) are: (92)

Oh aye, I mun go to my Bingo.

(93)

They came to their tea.

4.5.

Prepositions

As Shorrocks (1999: 211) says, a full account of prepositional usage in Northern dialects would involve a large-scale investigation, such as has not yet been carried out even for individual dialects. Here, I can only point out a number of prepositions which are used differently in Northern English dialects. Where Standard English uses by to express agency, Northern dialects use off or with. (94)

I won’t do nothing unless I get paid for it. Not off my mam and dad anyway. (NECTE)

(95)

Geet (got) taught with the teachers (Shorrocks 1999: 197).

Off is also used where Standard English would use from as in the following examples from NECTE: (96)

I got blood tablets off the doctor.

(97)

Well, my father come off a hawking family.

(98)

Aye, my sister tapes some canny songs off the charts like.

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In Yorkshire, while is used where Standard English and, indeed, other Northern dialects, would use (un)til. If you ask any service worker in Yorkshire about the opening hours of their workplace, the reply will be, e.g. Nine while five. Examples are: (99)

eight in a morning while eight at night (CSU)

(100) I’m stopping while Monday (Petyt 1985: 236). Down is used immediately before place-names, where Standard English would require another preposition, such as in or to. Examples are: (101) I normally just stay down the Bigg Market now or gan (‘go’) down the Quay Side. (NECTE) (102) He works down Manchester (Shorrocks 1999: 218). In the North-east, bit is followed immediately by a noun, without of as in a bit cheese (cf. German Ein bisschen Käse). As example from the NECTE corpus is: (103) I felt awful, because it was a bit lassie ye know; ‘cos she was ower thin.

5.

Clause constructions

5.1.

Relative clauses

Romaine (1982) argues that, in the history of English, the wh-relative markers (who, whom, whose, which) enter the written language from the 15th century onwards. They occur first in more formal (particularly Latinate) styles and the nominative type (who, which) is confined to formal usage for longer than the object or genitive types. Romaine goes on to assert that “infiltration of WH into the relative system [...] has not really affected the spoken language” (1982: 212). We might, therefore, expect to find little use of the wh-relatives in Northern dialects. In the traditional dialects of the North of England, as exemplified in the SED, the ‘wh-relatives’ (who, which) are not used at all where the antecedent is subject. The question designed to elicit subject relative constructions was: The woman next door says: The work in this garden is getting me down. You say: Well, get some help in. I know a man ___ will do it for you. In Northumberland, in five locations, the zero (Ø) strategy was used, i.e. ‘a chap would do it’; in three at was used; and in one location that was used, whilst, elsewhere in the North, zero, as, at and that were all used, with a tendency for at to prevail in Yorkshire and as in Lancashire (Orton and Halliday 1963: 1083–1084). Considering the distribution of responses to this question throughout England, Poussa writes:

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[W]e might argue that the development from the OE se […] the relative to the modern system in the spoken language has generally passed through a ZERO stage, and that these areas [the extreme north and south] are relicts of that development (1986: 101).

On the other hand, the SED responses to the question eliciting the genitive relative show some use of whose, especially in Northumberland and Durham. In response to the question That man’s uncle was drowned last week. In other words, you might say, that’s the chap ____, wh- in the form of /hwe:z/ or /wi:z/ was given in seven locations in Northumberland, at his uncle was … in one location and as his uncle was … in the remaining one location. Elsewhere in the North, informants tend to avoid the relativisation strategy altogether in answering this question. For instance, in the Sheffield area, informant 32 from Ecclesfield, then a village just outside Sheffield, uses the following circumlocution: (104) That’s the chap thou knows, his uncle drowned hissen (Orton and Halliday 1963: 1086). The distribution of relative markers in traditional dialects thus seems to confirm Romaine’s view, since wh-relatives are only used in the genitive. More recent studies of relativisation in Northern English dialects (Beal and Corrigan 2002) indicate that, whilst wh-forms are becoming more common, zero relatives are still used with subject antecedents throughout the North, as the following examples show: (105) There’s about twenty of them are walking along. (NECTE) (106) We have a coach comes down, he’s very good (Petyt 1985: 238). (107) He may know a friend works in a blacksmith’s (Shorrocks 1999: 97). However, who was found in both the NECTE and CSU corpora: (108) There’ll be a canny few six formers there who’ll be starting the year anyway. (NECTE) (109) Everybody who lived there did something towards it. (CSU) In the SED material, instances of what as a relative were confined to Lancashire and Yorkshire as far as the ‘Northern Counties’ are concerned (Upton, Parry and Widdowson 1994: 489). More recently, though, Cheshire, Edwards and Whittle found that, in a survey conducted in schools throughout Britain, what was reported “far more frequently than any of the other non-standard relative pronoun forms” and “was reported just as frequently in the North of England as in the South”. They conclude that “What […] appears to be the preferred relative pronoun in the urban centres of Britain today” (1993: 68). Shorrocks (1999: 101) finds the use of relative what in ‘modified’ (i.e. more standardised) speech, and Petyt (1985: 238) notes that it is used with both human and non-human antecedents in West

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Yorkshire. This suggests that the what relative has indeed become more common in Northern dialects in the second half of the 20th century. However, Beal and Corrigan (2002) demonstrate that, whilst what is, indeed, common in the CSU corpus, it is much rarer in NECTE. Examples from CSU are: (110) You know t’ gully what goes down river what runs down Millinger Street? (111) He was a German what run this shop what I worked for. Throughout North of England, that is used as a relative marker with both human and non-human antecedents. In Yorkshire, that appears to be taking over from traditional at. The only example found in a subsample of the CSU is: (112) Kelvin at my first husband came out of. At looks and sounds like a reduced form of that, but Wright (1892: 91) argues that it is an independent form of Norse origin. Petyt (1985: 201) notes that in his corpus of West Yorkshire speech “[ t] occurred 1250 times altogether in conversational styles, while the non-standard [t] and [z] were heard 234 and 21 times respectively”. In the NECTE corpus, there is a slight (52.1%) preference for wh- with animate antecedents in subject position, but in the CSU corpus, that is preferred even in this context. Examples from CSU are: (113) There were a schoolteacher that lived in here in this house. (114) I’ve got two other sisters that are both working. Rather than at being a reduced form of that, it is more likely that, in the Danelaw, modern dialects have artificially ‘restored’ that in place of the Norse at under the influence of Standard English. In Standard English, only wh-relatives can be used in non-restrictive relative clauses. Whilst the vast majority of non-restrictive relative clauses in both the NECTE and CSU corpora have wh-relatives, there are exceptions, suggesting that this rule is not categorical in Northern dialects. Examples are (115) to (117). The word that was not stressed in any of them. (115) The old grammar school on Durham Road, that was a co-educational school. (NECTE) (116) This is Louise, that was meant to come. (NECTE) (117) You know Mr. Hill, that you got down there. (CSU) Throughout the North, which is used as a sentential relative. In these constructions, a whole clause or sentence constitutes the antecedent of which. Examples are: (118) He said that…er…Anthony Eden was going the wrong way, which to me was ridiculous. (NECTE)

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(119) They’re busy wondering where their next meal’s going to come in and stuff, which I think is really sad. (NECTE) (120) If it’s say like at Doncaster or wherever he goes, which he’s got t’ car so it’s no problem. (CSU) Shorrocks also finds this use of which in his corpus. He writes of “a most remarkable and extensive use of which [...] whereby it may refer to an antecedent, often of clausal proportions [...] or predict a following predicate [...] in some cases, the referent can be so difficult to define, that which often appears simply to link clauses.” (1999: 104) Accounts of Standard English such as Quirk and Greenbaum (1973: 380) suggest that where is only used with antecedents of place. However, in both the CSU and NECTE corpora there are several examples in which where is used with antecedents other than those of place. (121) A mortgage where we’d be paying t’ same for twenty years. (CSU) (122) He’s just going through a phase where his reports are absolutely lousy. (CSU) (123) Perhaps when she reaches an age where she can differentiate and realise that there is a dialect, she can use it if she wants to. (NECTE) (124) Apart from that it’s, you-know, the cases where you’re washing the car, or gardening or something. (NECTE) In all these cases, where fulfills the same function as ‘preposition + which’ in Standard English. 5.2.

Complement clauses

In Northern English dialects, as in Scots, complement clauses can be introduced by for to. This is not reported everywhere in the North: Petyt (1985) does not mention having found this construction in West Yorkshire. It is, however, reported both in the far north of the region (NECTE) and the south (Bolton). Shorrocks (1999: 248) notes that “for to is used extensively in the dialect as an infinitive marker”. He goes on to point out that there were a number of instances of for to in the Northern Region recorded in the Incidental Material of the SED. There are also several examples of for to in the NECTE corpus. (125) He used to say keep that for Bella that was for me for to get bread in for the bairns. (NECTE) (126) When I moved it just didn’t enter me head for to say I wonder what if it’ll be different. (NECTE)

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(127) We were glad for to get out (Shorrocks 1999:248). It is worth noting that, of these examples only in (125) does for to carry the meaning ‘in order to’. In the North-east, need and want take a past participle as complement, rather than a present participle or infinitive, as in my hair needs cut, that referee wants shot (meaning only that the speaker is extremely displeased with the referee!) 5.3.

Order of direct and indirect object

Shorrocks explains the order of direct and indirect objects in Northern English dialects as follows: “With two noun objects, the indirect precedes the direct. When the direct and indirect objects are both pronouns, either one may precede the other” (1999: 80). He gives the examples: (128) He couldn’t give him it. (129) I tan (= ‘took’) it her back. Petyt (1985: 236) found two examples of non-standard ordering in his corpus: (130) I didn’t show it Harry. (131) Open me t’ door. (= Standard English ‘Open the door for me’) This suggests that, where a clause contains a pronoun and a noun, the pronoun comes first. In both sets of examples, the preposition to or for is omitted in the Northern dialect. This would appear to be general throughout the North, as examples were also found in NECTE: (132) So she won’t give us it. (133) Thanks, you’re the first person that’s give us a tip.

6.

Organisation of discourse

6.1.

Right- and left-dislocation

In Northern English dialects, right-dislocation is used mainly in constructions in which the referent is identical to that of a noun phrase or pronoun within the clause. The constructions favoured for right-dislocation vary from one Northern dialect to another. In the North-east, typically only the noun phrase or pronoun is repeated, sometimes reinforced with like as in (134), whilst in Yorkshire, an auxiliary verb precedes it, as in (135). Shorrocks (1999: 85–86) reports both constructions in Bolton, as in (136) and (137). (134) I’m a Geordie, me, like. (NECTE)

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(135) He’s got his head screwed on, has Dave. (136) They were like lightning, as they say,…his legs. (137) Bet he’d done some laughing, had old Parr. Left-dislocation, in Northern dialects as in colloquial English generally, is used for topicalisation. Shorrocks points out that this “forms part of a wider tendency of the dialect speakers to state what is of prime concern initially” (1999: 88). He provides the following examples: (138) Coffee beans, they used to dry them outside. (139) They’d no interest in you, the teachers hadn’t. 6.2.

Focussing devices

In the North-east, as in Scots, like is used as a focussing device, with different discourse functions according to its position in the sentence. The most traditional function is as an emphatic device in clause-final position, as in (134) above. In this position it can also be used in interrogatives, where it often conveys a sense of interest or surprise as in: (140) How’d you get away with that like? (NECTE) In clause-initial position, like focuses on a new topic, as in: (141) Like for one round five quid, that was like three quid, like two-fifty each. (NECTE) As the above example shows, in younger speakers, in the North-east as in many other parts of the English-speaking world, like is also used within clauses, often as an explanatory device. This means that like can occur several times within one sentence in the speech of younger people in the North-east of England, as in (141) above. Another usage which adds to the ubiquity of like in this dialect is the recent (global) introduction of like as a quotative. In the NECTE corpus, the only speakers to use this were those born after 1974. An example of this, from a speaker born in 1977, is: (142) And they were like “Your .. best friend’s going on holiday with your boyfriend?”

7.

Lexis

Dialects of English in the North of England are distinct both from dialects of other regions, and from each other, in terms of their lexicons as well as their phonolo-

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gies and grammars. This is due largely to a number of historical factors. Most of the North (excluding the North-east) lies within the Danelaw, consequently dialects within the ‘Scandinavian belt’ retain a number of words of Norse origin. This is best illustrated in Map 1 below, showing the distribution of SED informants’ responses to the question: What do you call any stretch of running water smaller than a river? In the far North-east, the Anglo-Saxon word burn is used, and in the area bordering on the North-west Midlands, another Anglo-Saxon word brook is found. However, in a ‘belt’ stretching north-west to south-east from Cumbria to Yorkshire, the word used is the Norse beck. These words are retained in placenames: Troutbeck in Cumbria, Otterburn in Northumberland, Preston Brook in Cheshire, and straw polls in class have revealed that they are still used by young speakers from these areas. Some Norse words are found in North-eastern dialects: lop (‘flea’), garth (‘yard’), gate (‘street’), the latter two found in street names such as Garth Heads in Newcastle, Marygate in Sheffield. However, a much greater number of Norse words is to be found in the dialects of Yorkshire, where words such as lake (‘play’), addled (‘earned’) and throng (‘busy’) are found. Some words thought to be of Norse origin are used throughout the North. The most notable, because most frequently used, of these, are the affirmative and negative aye and nay. The NECTE corpus has numerous instances of the interviewer (born in Gateshead) using aye to encourage the informant to keep the floor, as in the interchange below in which I is the interviewer and S the informant: (143) S My father went to work in Clarkies. I Did he? Aye there’s a lot of people working there. There’s a lot of people work in Clarkies. S Aye in Clarkies, went to work in Clarkies… I Aye. In other cases, Northern dialects retain words which have become archaic elsewhere. A good example of this is the retention of lads and lasses as colloquial alternatives for Standard English boys and girls. Examples from the NECTE corpus are: (144) I reckon lasses aren’t as naive as they used to be. (145) I’ve got three lads, no, four lads and three lasses. In (145), the informant is answering a question about how many children she has. When she refers to these children collectively, she uses the equally archaic northern word bairns as in (125) above. Other influences are found in specific areas of the North. A number of Romani words occur in the North-east, many of which are still used, sometimes with developments in meaning, by young people on Tyneside. Examples are cush ‘good’; gadgie ‘old man’ from Romani gadgio ‘a non-Romani’; radge/radgie ‘crazy/crazy

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Map 1.

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Small River (Orton and Wright 1974: 87)

person’; charver ‘a disreputable working-class youth’, from Romani charvo ‘a boy’. The last of these has been adopted by young people on Tyneside to label a particular sub-group, known elsewhere in England as townies. Speakers in the North of England use a range of terms of endearment, some of which are regionally distributed. These are often used in service encounters, and

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can cause misunderstandings when the addressee is a southerner, who believes that s/he is being patronised. The most widespread term is love, which I have observed in Sheffield being used by a male shop assistant and a male bus-driver, each addressing middle-aged male customers. This use of love between male peers has also been observed in Leeds, but elsewhere, even in the North, this would be unusual, as the normal pattern is for the terms to be used by older speakers to younger speakers and in male-female or female-male interactions. In the North-east bonny lad and son are used between males of the same age, and thus are equivalent to mate elsewhere. Regionally distributed terms of endearment are pet (North-east), chuck (Lancashire), cock (Lancashire and parts of Yorkshire), and duck (South Yorkshire). The latter three, like West Midlands chick, all refer to domestic fowl. Son is also used in the North-east as a term of address to dogs, so that a man in this region may address his wife as pet and his dog as son. Man is used in the North-east as a term of address to males or females (cf. US guys), often expressing annoyance or impatience. In the following example the speaker implies that the interviewer has asked her a stupid question, i.e. ‘where do you go for holidays?’: (146) I divn’t gan for holidays man. I wish I could. A student in Newcastle reported to me that he had overheard an exasperated young man say to his partner ‘Howay man, woman, man!’ One area of the lexicon to which little attention has hitherto been paid by dialectologists is the use of discourse markers, such as words and phrases used to gain the attention of an addressee, or to express surprise, annoyance, etc. These are worth noting, as they are often regionally distributed and highly salient. In the North of England, terms used to gain attention range from howay in the North-east, to ey up in Lancashire and Yorkshire and eck eck in Liverpool.

8.

Conclusion

This chapter has set out some of the distinctive morphological, syntactic and lexical features of northern dialects of English. It is apparent that, whilst some features, such as the ‘Northern Subject Rule’ (3.1.1.) and the regularised pattern of reflexives (2.3.4.) are found throughout the North of England, others, such as definite article reduction in Lancashire and Yorkshire (2.5.1.) and double modals in the North-east (4.2.3.) are restricted to particular regional dialects within the North. Examples used in this chapter have mostly been taken from four corpora collected in the second half of the 20th century, from Tyneside, Sheffield, Bolton and West Yorkshire. This leaves huge gaps in the geographical coverage, which need to be filled by the collection of new data from cities such as Carlisle, Lancaster, Liverpool and Manchester, and the processing of data already collected elsewhere. What is clear is that, whilst a sense of ‘northernness’ is felt by citizens

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of all these places, there are distinctive features of dialect which mark them off from each other.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Beal, Joan 1993

The grammar of Tyneside and Northumbrian English. In: Milroy and Milroy (eds.), 187–242. 1997 Syntax and morphology. In: Jones (ed.), 335–377. Beal, Joan and Karen Corrigan 2000 Comparing the present with the past to predict the future for Tyneside English. Newcastle and Durham Working Papers in Linguistics 6: 13–30. 2002 Relativisation in Tyneside and Northumbrian English. In: Patricia Poussa (ed.), Relativisation on the North Sea Littoral, 125–134. Berlin: Lincom Europa. Cave, Andrew 2001 Language variety and communicative style as local and subcultural identity in a South Yorkshire coalmining community. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Sheffield. Cheshire, Jenny, Vivian Edwards and Pam Whittle 1993 Non-standard English and dialect levelling. In: Milroy and Milroy (eds.), 53– 96. Ihalainen, Ossi 1994 The dialects of England since 1776. In: Burchfield (ed.), 197–274. Jones, Mark 2002 The origin of definite article reduction in northern English dialects. English Language and Linguistics 6: 325–346. McDonald, Christine 1981 Variation in the use of modal verbs with special reference to Tyneside English. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Newcastle. McDonald, Christine and Joan Beal 1987 Modal verbs in Tyneside English. Journal of the Atlantic Provinces Linguistic Association 9: 42–55. Orton, Harold and Wilfrid J. Halliday (eds.) 1962 Survey of English Dialects: The Basic Material, Volume 1, Parts 1, 2 and 3. Leeds: Arnold. Orton, Harold and Natalia Wright 1974 A Word Geography of England. London/New York/San Francisco: Seminar Press. Petyt, Malcolm K. 1985 Dialect and Accent in Industrial West Yorkshire. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins.

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Poussa, Patricia 1986 Historical implications of the distribution of the zero pronoun relative in Modern English dialects: looking backwards towards OE from Map S5 of the Linguistic Atlas of England. In: Sven Jacobson (ed.), Papers from the Third Scandinavian Symposium on Syntactic Variation, Stockholm, May 11–12, 1985, 99–117. Stockholm: Almqvist and Wiksell. Poussa, Patricia (ed.) 2002 Relativisation on the North Sea Littoral. Berlin: Lincom Europa. Quirk, Randolph and Sidney Greenbaum 1973 A University Grammar of English. Harlow: Longman. Romaine, Suzanne 1982 Socio-historical Linguistics: Its Status and Methodology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Shorrocks, Graham 1999 A Grammar of the Dialect of the Bolton Area. Frankfurt am Main: Lang. Tagliamonte, Sali 1998 Was/were variation across the generations: view from the city of York. Language Variation and Change 10: 153–191. Tagliamonte, Sali and Rika Ito 2002 Think really different: continuity and specialisation in the English dual form adverbs. Journal of Sociolinguistics 6: 236–266. Trudgill, Peter 1984 Standard English in England. In: Trudgill (ed.), 32–44. Wakelin, Martyn 1983 The stability of English dialect boundaries. English World-Wide 4: 1–15. Wright, Joseph 1892 A Grammar of the Dialect of Windhill, in the West Riding of Yorkshire. London: English Dialect Society.

The dialect of East Anglia: morphology and syntax Peter Trudgill

1.

Morphology

1.1.

Present tense verb forms

1.1.1. Third-person singular zero Probably the best-known morphological East Anglian dialect feature is third-person present-tense singular zero. East Anglian dialects have zero-marking for all persons of the verb in the present tense: he go, she come, that say. Of the localities investigated by the Survey of English Dialects (SED), this feature was found in all the Suffolk localities, in northeastern Essex, and in all of Norfolk except the Fens. Observations suggest that this geographical pattern is also valid for the Modern Dialects of the early twenty-first century. David Britain, an expert on the dialects of the Fens, confirms (personal communication) that the Cambridgeshire town of Wisbech and its Norfolk suburb of Emneth both have -s. Third-person singular zero is a social dialect feature (see Trudgill 1974). This has the consequence that a number of middle-class East Anglians do not use it at all, and that others use it variably. One interesting question is why East Anglia is the only area of Britain to have this system. Other areas either have the Standard English system, or else have -s for all persons: I goes, we likes etc. My theory (see Trudgill 2002) about this is that it has to do with the “invasion” of Norwich in the 16th century by the remarkable group of people we now know as the Strangers. These were Protestants fleeing from religious persecution in the Low Countries – modern Belgium and Holland – at the hands of their Spanish Catholic rulers. They were mostly native speakers of Dutch (Flemish) but there was also a good proportion of speakers of French. People who are learning English as a foreign language often have trouble with the irregular third-person singular -s of Standard English. I hypothesize that the more or less simultaneous arrival into Norwich of the new he likes form from the north of England, and the he like forms from the foreigner English of the Strangers, both in competition with the old he liketh forms, led to a situation where there was competition between these three forms, -th, -s, and -Ø, in which the most regular form was the one which eventually won. It then subsequently spread outwards from Norwich, which was the second largest city in England at the time, to the whole of the area which it dominated culturally and economically, namely East Anglia (see Trudgill 2002).

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1.1.2. To be The present tense of the verb to be in Norfolk is identical with that in Standard English: I am, he/she/it is, we/you/they are. But there is one interesting exception. This concerns the phenomenon of presentative be. Speakers normally say I am but may nevertheless announce themselves, on arriving somewhere, by saying Here I be!. Similarly, if they are looking for someone and find him, they may exclaim There he be!. That is, be is used for all persons when the speaker is presenting themselves or someone or something they have found or come across. These forms probably reflect an earlier stage of the dialect when be was the normal present-tense form in all meanings, as in parts of the West Country where speakers still say I be, you be etc. 1.1.3. Have Unless the next word begins with a vowel, the form have is most often pronounced without the final v: /(h)æ/, /(h)E/ or /(h)´/: Ha’ you got some? 1.2.

Past tense verb forms

1.2.1. Irregular verbs: past tense forms and past participles The East Anglian dialect has a number of differences in verb-formation from Standard English. In some cases like draw, Standard English irregular verbs are regular. In other cases, Standard English regular verbs are irregular: for example, the past tense of snow is snew. In many other cases, partial regularisation has taken place, so that there are two forms instead of three, as with break, or one form instead of two, as with come. Typical East Anglian verb forms include: Present

Past

Past Participle

begin beat become bite blow break bring catch choose come do draw drink drive

begun beat/bet become bit blew broke brung catched chose come done drawed drunk driv

begun beat/bet become bit blew broke brung/brought catched chose come done drawed drunk driven

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(continued) Present

Past

Past Participle

forget give grow know mow owe ride rise ring run see shake show shriek snow speak steal stink swim take thaw/thow teach tear tread wake wear wrap write

forgot give/gon growed knowed mew ewe rid ris rung run see shook shew shruck snew spoke stole stunk swum took thew teached tore trod woke wore wrop writ

forgot give(n) growed knowed mown own rid(den) ris(en) rung run see(n) shook shown shruck snown spoke stole stunk swum took thew teached tore trod woke wore wrop writ

Some of these forms are very archaic, especially gon and wrop. Shew, as the past tense of show, is, on the other hand, very widely used and is still very frequently found in the speech even of people whose English is not very dialectal. Chose and choose can be pronounced identically (see Trudgill, other volume). 1.2.2. Auxiliary and full verb do As in most English dialects, in East Anglia, although the past tense of do is done rather than Standard English did, this is not true of the auxiliary verb do, where the past tense is did : (1)

You done it, did you?

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1.2.3. The past tense of be The past tense of to be is wus /wUz/ for all persons in the positive, but weren’t for all persons in the negative (see Anderwald 2002): (2)

a. Singular I wus you wus he/she/it wus

Plural we wus you wus they wus

b. Singular I weren’t you weren’t he/she/it weren’t

Plural we weren’t you weren’t they weren’t

The word weren’t is pronounced in a number of different ways: /wŒ˘nt/, /wa˘nt/, /wç˘nt/, /wÅnt/. The older dialect, on the other hand, had war /wa˘/ for all persons in the positive. 1.2.4. Dare The archaic English past tense form of the verb to dare was durst. In the East Anglian dialect, this has become the present tense as well: (3)

You dursn’t/dussn’t. ‘You dare not.’

In less dialectal local speech, the Standard English negative present tense form of dare, daren’t, is still distinctive in that it is pronounced as two syllables, rhyming with parent, unlike in the rest of the country where it is normally pronounced as a single syllable. This is true even of the speech of speakers who otherwise have few regional features in their pronunciation. 1.3.

Present tense negative of have and be

Corresponding to the more geographically widespread ain’t, the negative present tense form of be and of have in East Anglia is most often /Ent/ or /Int/ for all persons: (4)

a. I in’t a-comen. ‘I’m not coming.’ b. I in’t done it yet. ‘I havent done it yet.’

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1.4.

Plurals

The older dialect had a number of archaic plurals: (5)

house mouse

housen meece

Forby (1830) also cites cheesen ‘cheeses’, and closen ‘clothes’. As in many other dialects, it is common for measurement nouns not to take a plural -s after numerals: four foot, three mile. In telling the time, 25 is generally five and twenty: (6)

a. That leave at five and twenty to. ‘It leaves at twenty-five to.’ b. Thass five and twenty past four. ‘It’s twenty-five past four.’

1.5.

The definite article

The normally appears in the form th’ if the next word begins with a vowel: th’old house, in th’oven. In the older dialect, the definite article could be omitted after prepositions of motion and before nouns denoting certain familiar domestic objects: (7)

a. he walked into house b. put th’apples into basket c. she come out of barn

1.6.

Pronouns

1.6.1. Personal pronouns Unstressed I is pronounced with the reduced vowel [´], even at the end of a sentence, so that can I? is pronounced can a? rhyming with banner. Unstressed they is pronounced thee: Where are thee? Stressed it in Standard English corresponds to that in East Anglia: (8)

a. Thass rainen. ‘It’s raining.’ b. Ah, that wus me what done it. ‘Yes, it was me that did it.’

In the older dialect, thaself was also found as the reflexive: (9)

The dog hurt thaself.

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But now this has disappeared. In the older dialect, that also appeared as /t´/, often shown in dialect literature as ta or t’: Ta fruz ‘it froze’. This has now also disappeared except in the concessive expression t’is true ‘It’s true’. In unstressed position, however, it occurs: (10)

I don’t like it, thass no good.

It is not clear how we should explain this development of that as the stressed form of the pronoun. Poussa (1997) has argued that it goes back to the Danish of the Viking period: modern Scandinavian languages still have det meaning ‘it’. This seems highly unlikely, however, since no other Danelaw area has it; Danish has not been spoken in East Anglia for a thousand years or so; and we have no record of it for East Anglia before Forby (1830). It seems much more likely to be the result of a perfectly normal grammaticalisation process: Diessel (2000) shows that demonstratives very frequently become third-person pronouns as a result of grammaticalisation. The fact that it is most usually pronounced as a possibly rather indistinct [´/] may have assisted this process. You…together functions as a second person plural pronoun: (11)

a. Where are you together? b. Come you on together!

The possessive pronouns mine, yours, his, hers, ours, theirs are used to refer to a place where somebody lives: (12)

Less go round mine. ‘Let’s go to my place.’

1.6.2. Pronoun substitution In the southwest of England, the pronoun forms he, she, we, they can occur as grammatical objects, and him, her, us can occur as grammatical subjects. This feature, often known as pronoun exchange, has not yet been subjected to any definitive analysis, but it seems possible that what happens is that the Standard English subject pronouns occur as objects when the pronoun is emphasised, and object pronouns as subjects when the pronoun is not emphasised. Something similar occurs or occurred in southern East Anglia, although in this case we see only subject pronouns as objects. Charles Benham’s Essex Ballads, first published in Colchester in the 1890s, contain a number of instances of this feature. Here is one example (italics are mine): Tha’s where they’re gooin’, are they? Pas’ the mill, Along the fiel’ path leadin’ tard the woods; I’ll give he what for some day, that I will,

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For walkin’ out ’ith that ere bit of goods. J’yer hear him call “Good arternune” to me? He think he’s doin’ of it there some tune. Next time I ketch him out along o’ she, Blest if I don’t give he “good arternune”.

The evidence of these ballads and of the SED records suggests that in southern East Anglia the phenomenon was more restricted than in the southwest. The southwestern usage of him, her, us as subjects does not seem to have been a possibility; we witness merely the use of he, she, we, they as objects. 1.6.3. Relative pronouns The relative pronoun is what for both animates and inanimates: (13)

a. He’s the one what done it. b. A book what I read.

1.6.4. Demonstrative pronouns As in many other dialects, the distal plural form is not those but them e.g. Eat you them carrots ‘Eat those carrots’. Here and there are often used as reinforcers: (14)

a. this here book b. them there books

1.7.

Prepositions

As in nonstandard dialects generally, there are many differences of preposition usage between the local dialects and Standard English. Distinctively East Anglian usages include: (15)

a. b. c. d.

Are you comen round John’s? (i.e. to John’s [place]) I was round John’s. (i.e. at John’s [place]) I’m goen down the city. (i.e. to Norwich from the suburbs) I’m goen up the city. (i.e. to Norwich from the country)

Standard English of is usually [´] but is pronounced on when stressed: (16)

a. What do you think on it? b. There was a couple on ’em.

Alonga, derived from along with or, more likely, along of, means ‘together with’: (17)

Come you alonga me!

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Temporal adverbials

The traditional dialects of northern East Anglia not only had forms such as t’night and t’day but also t’year, t’mornen, t’week, meaning ‘this year, this morning, this week’. 1.9.

Now

An East Anglian feature found at most social levels is the use of now rather than just in expressions such as I’m now coming. 1.10.

Wholly

Wholly, normally pronounced /hUli: ~ hUl´/ is widely used as an intensifier, e.g. That wholly poured.

2.

Syntax

2.1.

Conjunctions

2.1.1. Conjunction do In the older dialects of East Anglia, the word do is used as conjunction which means something like ‘otherwise’. The English Dialect Dictionary shows that this usage was once found in the dialects of Norfolk, Suffolk, Cambridgeshire and northern Essex. This seems to be the result of grammaticalisation processes. Consider the following examples from local dialect literature: (18)

a. Don’t you take yours off, do you’ll get rheumatism. b. Don’t you tell your Aunt Agatha about the coupons, do she’ll mob me.

In these examples, the insertion of because if you will provide forms readily comprehensible to speakers of all English dialects: (19)

Don’t take yours off, [because if you] do you’ll get rheumatism.

It seems, then, that the development of the conjunction do began with an initial stage in which speakers simply omitted phrases such as because if you. A second stage in the development of a more abstract meaning can be illustrated by the following: (20)

Have the fox left? No that ain’t, do Bailey would’ve let them went.

Here the link between the two parts of the sentence is more abstract and complicated. The originally present-tense form do is being applied in a past-tense context,

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and do is used in spite of the fact that we would have to insert a form of have, not do, to get a full form of the sentence: (21)

No that ain’t, [because if that had] Bailey would’ve let them went.

The third and final stage in the process is demonstrated in examples like: (22)

a. That’s a good job we come out of that there field, do he’d’ve had us! b. We stabled them elephants right in the middle, do we should’ve capsized.

Here present tense do is once again being used in past tense contexts, but it is also being used, in spite of the fact that it is a positive verb form, in a situation where a full form of the sentence would require a negative verb: (23)

That’s a good job we come out of that there field, [because if we hadn’t] he’d’ve had us!

This feature is also found in parts of the American South: it has been reported for North Carolina and northern Florida (see Trudgill 1997). 2.1.2. Conjunction time The older East Anglian dialect employed time as a conjunction in the sense of Standard English ‘while’: (24)

Go you and have a good wash time I git tea ready.

We can assume that this is the result of grammaticalisation processes involving the deletion of phonological material such as [during the] time. 2.1.3. Conjunction (nor) yet The form yet may function as a conjunction equivalent to nor in constructions such as (25): (25)

a. There weren’t no laburnum, yet no lilac. b. There wouldn’t be nothen nor yet nobody to start things off again.

2.1.4. Conjunction more The form (no) more can function as a conjunction or conjunct equivalent to nor or neither: (26)

The fruit and vegetables weren’t as big as last year, more weren’t the taters and onions.

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151

Multiple negation

As in most nonstandard dialects of English, multiple negation is usual. However, East Anglian English extends this feature to include constructions with hardly: (27)

I couldn’t find hardly none on ’em.

2.3.

Imperatives

The second person pronoun is usually explicit in East Anglian imperatives: (28)

a. Go you on! b. Shut you up!

This is true even when the imperative is strengthened by using the auxiliary verb do: (29)

Do you sit down!

2.4.

Ought

Typical East Anglian forms of this verb, even in the speech of people who otherwise have used few dialect forms, involve negative and interrogative forms with the past tense auxiliary did: (30)

a. You didn’t ought to do that, did you? b. Did you ought to do that?

2.5.

Progressive aspect

Older East Anglian dialect speakers sometimes uses non-progressive verb forms where other dialects would use the progressive forms with -ing: (31)

a. (The) kittle bile! ‘The kettle’s boiling!’ b. I go to Norwich tomorra. ‘I’m going to Norwich tomorrow.’

2.6.

A-verbing

As in many other dialects, it is usual in continuous aspect forms for participles in -ing (which is pronounced ‘-en’ [´n]) to be preceded by a- [´]: (32)

a. I’m a-runnen b. you’re a-runnen c. he’s a-runnen

d. we’re a-runnen e. you’re a-runnen f. they’re a-runnen

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The history of participles as nominal forms can still be seen from the fact that such transitive verb forms are normally followed by on (which corresponds to Standard English of – see above): (33)

a. He wus a-hitten on it. ‘He was hitting it.’ b. I’m a-taken on em. ‘I’m taking them.’ c. What are you a-doen on? ‘What are you doing?’

2.7.

Matter

Standard English It doesn’t matter is most usually That don’t matters. The origin of this form with -s is not known. 2.8.

Street names

Street names involving the names of saints typically omit the word street. Thus, in Norwich, St Augustine’s Street, St Giles’ Street, St Benedict’s Street, St George’s Street, are normally referred to as St Augustine’s, St Giles’, St Benedict’s, St George’s. Note that this is only possible if the official street name actually includes the form Street rather than Avenue, Crescent etc. Thus, in Norwich St Stephen’s Road has to be so called, and St Stephen’s can refer only to St Stephen’s Street.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Diessel, Holger 2000 Demonstratives: Form, Function and Grammaticalisation. Amsterdam/ Philadelphia: Benjamins. Forby, Robert 1830 The Vocabulary of East Anglia. London: Nichols. Poussa, Patricia 1997 Derivation of it from that in eastern dialects of British English. In: Raymond Hickey and Stanislaw Puppel (eds.), Linguistic History and Linguistic Modelling: A Festschrift for Jacek Fisiak on his 60th Birthday, 691–699. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter.

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Trudgill, Peter 1997 British vernacular dialects in the formation of American English: the case of East Anglian do. In: Raymond Hickey and Stanislaw Puppel (eds.), Linguistic History and Linguistic Modelling: A Festschrift for Jacek Fisiak on his 60th Birthday, 749–758. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. 2002 Sociolinguistic Variation and Change. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.

English dialects in the Southwest: morphology and syntax Susanne Wagner

1.

Background

The Southwest or, to use a more traditional label, the West Country, has figured prominently in dialectological investigations for centuries. From a modern viewpoint, one can only guess at the reasons behind the considerable attention that has been attributed to West Country English, particularly in the 19th century. One of the major factors causing interest in the region certainly was its rural character and relative remoteness, which to a certain extent still survives to the present day. Traditionally, attributes such as “rustic” or “primitive” were associated with inhabitants of the West Country and their speech patterns. No matter what reasons may have triggered the interest in West Country dialects, it resulted in an amount of studies, both professional (i.e. linguistic) and nonprofessional, that is almost unique in the field. Writers such as William Barnes or Thomas Hardy use vernacular speech in their poems and novels. Barnes also published a treatise on the grammar of his home country, Dorset, which shows a certain indebtedness to, for example, Frederic Elworthy’s work on Somerset English (cf. Barnes [1844] 1994; Elworthy [1875] 1965a, [1877] 1965b). Experts writing on West Country English list a wide array of peculiarities in the variety. Among those most widely known in pronunciation is the voicing of initial fricatives, which is also extensively used in Barnes’ poetry and Hardy’s novels. But in contrast with most other traditional as well as modern varieties, West Country dialect shows numerous morpho-syntactic idiosyncrasies as well. The sheer number of features and their occurrence in a relatively restricted area help further the claim that the West Country is unique as a dialect region. For the sake of simplicity, “the West Country” or “the Southwest” will be considered as a homogeneous linguistic area here. The core of this area is constituted by the counties of Cornwall, Devon, Dorset, Somerset, and Wiltshire, while its boundaries are formed by parts of the adjoining counties of Gloucestershire, Oxfordshire, Worcestershire, and Herefordshire, which create a transition zone. Hampshire and Berkshire are not included; Berkshire is not often covered in studies of the Southwest, due to its “transitional nature” (Ihalainen 1994: 211), while Hampshire shows a high degree of mixture of features from the Southwest and Southeast, justifying its exclusion (see also Altendorf and Watt, other volume)

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The following sections will mostly follow Rogers (1979), both in outline and content (grammatical features to be considered), whose Wessex Dialect to this day presents one of the most detailed accounts of the variety. Rogers’ study will provide the background against which modern corpus data will be judged. Unless otherwise stated, all examples stem from the Freiburg English Dialect Corpus (FRED) compiled at Freiburg University (DFG research grant KO 1181/1-1–3). Additional material stems from the fieldworker notebooks of the Survey of English Dialects (SED). As with most other regions, the West Country exhibits a mixture of features that can be categorized according to their distribution (see section 9): a) exclusively Southwestern features; b) features also found in other (regional) dialects; and c) general features of spoken non-standard English. Sections 2 to 8 will first treat features irrespective of these categories.

2.

Articles

The observed over-use of the definite article in certain environments in West Country dialects is a possible candidate for substrate influence from Celtic languages. While this feature has been researched in Irish English (see Filppula, this volume), there are to my knowledge no studies that link West Country dialects with other Celtic-influenced Englishes, although the connections are well-known. Non-standard uses occur for example with diseases (the chicken pox, the arthritis), quantifying expressions (e.g. the both, the most), holidays (the Christmas), geographical units and institutions (the church, the county Devon), etc. The indefinite article, on the other hand, often occurs as a also before vowels, and in general in such a reduced form that the non-native might not even hear it at all – “but the intention to say it is there and if the speaker were asked to repeat slowly he would definitely include it” (Rogers 1979: 31). Modern examples from FRED include the ones in (1): (1)

a. [Interviewer: Did you take any exam? For example, did you take a scholarship exam to the County School?] Yes, I took it two years following, and failed the both of them. (FRED Con_007) b. Well father couldn’t drive the both engines … (FRED Som_014) c. Going smashed the gate to pieces, broke the both shafts off old Harry’s milk float. (FRED Wil_003) d. …but I stayed on until the Christmas. (FRED Con_008) e. …we had to walk a mile to the school and back. (FRED Som_012) f. …and naturally her father was a older man when she was a young girl, … (FRED Con_009) g. …about three pound a acre. (FRED Som_031)

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h. A journeyman is a apprentice that has served his apprenticeship … (FRED Dev_002) i. If a end comes off he automatically stops, see. (FRED Wil_001)

3.

Adjectives

Although the ending -en meaning ‘made of’ is also found in Standard English (StE), it is supposedly more productive and thus more frequent in the Southwest, yielding such phrases as bricken bridge, dirten floor, or wheaten straw (cf. Barnes 1994: 130; Rogers 1979: 33). In comparison, the synthetic strategy can be found also with multisyllabic adjectives; double comparison (analytic and synthetic strategy) is also common, a feature that is frequently encountered in other nonstandard varieties as well (cf. Rogers 1979: 34; examples in 2). Note that examples (2a) and (2c) include instances of a dialectal comparison strategy (than what) which is generally not commented on in detail in the literature, but which seems common in a number of dialects (about 130 instances in FRED). No instances of -en adjectives could be found in the modern material. (2) a. b. c.

4.

I’d be more happier out there than what I should be haymaking. (FRED Som_005) Its »fIftI »tçImz w
sr ‘it’s fifty times worse’ (31 So 14, book VI) More happier then than what it is today I think. (FRED Wil_022)

Nouns

In plural formation, West Country dialects at one time preferred the traditional -en ending over the StE -s, but have since adopted the StE strategy (cf. Barnes 1994: 129; Rogers 1979: 33). For some plurals, the distribution of allomorphs differs from that in StE in that dialects used [Iz] as a means of consonant cluster simplification. Thus, one hears plural forms such as ghostes or beastes (cf. Rogers 1979: 33), a feature that settlers took with them to Newfoundland and which has been typical of Newfoundland dialect(s) ever since (see Clarke, this volume). Another phenomenon widespread in most non-standard varieties of English is the absence of an overt plural marker on some measurement nouns and nouns after numerals. While a plural -s after such nouns as pound, mile or year would be the exception rather than the rule, Rogers (1979: 33; cf. also Barnes [18862] 1970: 20) claims that the plural usually is marked on certain nouns belonging to the same respective family (or semantic field), namely acre, ounce, inch, yard, hour, day and

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week, a claim that essentially seems to hold for the modern corpus material as well. Examples of unmarked plurals abound; some typical ones are provided in (3). (3)

a. He used to have four pound of butter a week every week. (FRED Con_005) b. If they had any money they did give you a few pound … (FRED Som_ 031) c. …we were three mile away from Plymouth … (FRED Dev_001) d. …’e was walkin’ six mile a day to work mornin’s an’ six mile ’ome … (FRED Wil_004)

5.

Pronouns

The pronominal system of West Country dialects is generally considered its most distinctive feature, as peculiarities cluster here. For example, Ihalainen (1994: 249–250) lists four features as typical of modern Southwestern dialect (voicing of initial fricatives, bain’t, pronoun exchange, “gendered” pronouns), two of which can be found in the personal pronoun system (pronoun exchange, “gendered” pronouns; cf. also Trudgill and Chambers 1991). Phenomena that are unique to the Southwest can be found in the system of demonstrative and personal pronouns. It does not come as a surprise then that pronouns in general and personal pronouns in particular have drawn considerable attention over time. Nevertheless, two of the most interesting features have not yet been studied in detail: case assignment (“pronoun exchange”; section 5.1.1.) and gender assignment (“gendered pronouns”, “gender diffusion”, “animation”; section 5.1.2.). 5.1.

Personal pronouns

5.1.1. Pronoun exchange The generally agreed-upon label for the phenomenon illustrated in (4) is “pronoun exchange” (probably Ossi Ihalainen’s term; Ihalainen 1991, based on a 1983 talk, but see also Wakelin 1981: 114). Pronoun exchange is defined as the use of a subject personal pronoun in an object position or all other positions that would normally require the use of an oblique (i.e. non-subject) form. (4)

a. …they always called I ‘Willie’, see. (FRED Som_009) b. …Uncle Willy, they used to call him, you remember he? (FRED Con_ 006) c. …you couldn’t put she [= horse] in a putt … (FRED Som_005) d. I did give she a ’and and she did give I a ’and and we did ’elp one another. (FRED Wil_011)

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e. f. g. h.

Well, if I didn’t know they, they knowed I. (FRED Wil_009) …he never interfered with I … (FRED Som_020) Never had no fault at all with she. (FRED Som_005) Yeah, ’twere to they but ’twasn’ to I. (FRED Wil_018)

The most common explanation for this type of use found in the literature is that the subject forms are used when the respective form is emphasized, while the oblique forms are used in all other contexts (Elworthy 1965b: 35–38; Kruisinga 1905: 35–36; Wright 1905: 271). Rogers notes that the pressure of a rigid SVO word order in English might have contributed to “a certain amount of confusion over pronouns which followed verbs” (1979: 35), resulting in subject forms being restricted to pre-verbal contexts. This is reminiscent of the change in StE from it’s I to it’s me, which is presumably based on the same factors. Utterances like the following are also found, although more restrictions apply to this type of use. The examples in (5) illustrate the reverse exchange scenario, namely oblique forms in subject contexts. (5)

a. ’er’s shakin’ up seventy. ‘She is almost seventy.’ (37 D 1, book VII) b. Evercreech, what did ’em call it? (FRED Som_031) c. Us don’ think naught about things like that. (37 D 1, book III) d. We used to stook it off didn’t us? (FRED Som_027)

The extent to which these two patterns are applied differs from region to region. Rogers’ (1979: 35) impression, for instance, is that the use of oblique forms in subject position (primarily us for we and her for she) is more restricted in Somerset, Wiltshire, Berkshire and Dorset than in Cornwall, Devon and Gloucestershire. Overall, the factors that influence pronoun exchange are extremely complex. A detailed investigation of the phenomenon in the SED Basic Material and fieldworker notebooks revealed surprising distributional patterns from an areal point of view (cf. Map 1 and 2): (i) Subject forms are used much more frequently in object slots than object forms in subject slots (55% to 20%). (ii) Locations with a high degree of exchanged subject forms (i.e. subject forms used in oblique contexts) will almost certainly have a (very) low degree of exchanged object forms, and vice versa. (iii) The West Country is split into two parts. Subject-for-object forms are typical of the eastern locations (particularly Wiltshire) rather than the West Country proper, where mainly object-for-subject forms are used. West Cornwall belongs to the East rather than the West. (iv) The comparison of the Basic and incidental SED material suggests that both areas are receding even within their original homelands. Somerset, which has already been split in the 19th century, seems to be on its way to losing pronoun

English dialects in the Southwest: morphology and syntax

Map 1.

159

Pronoun Exchange in the SED Basic Material

exchange altogether, using very low percentages of “exchanged” forms in general. (v) The use of subject-for-object forms seems to be spreading eastwards from West Cornwall. One possible explanation for this is a general tendency in colloquial English to use subject forms in non-subject functions, e.g. after prepositions (between you and I), which may help further such uses. From a modern point of view, it has to be stated that pronoun exchange is rapidly receding. With a frequency of about 1% in the Southwest component of FRED, pronoun exchange seems to be all but dead in its former homelands. 5.1.2. “Gendered” pronouns Like pronoun exchange, “gendered” pronouns are among the most frequently mentioned peculiarities of West Country dialects. “Gendered” pronouns as defined here are instances of personal pronouns which are marked for masculine or feminine gender but which refer to inanimate count nouns. Traditional West Country dialect uses an elaborate system of gender assignment which is rare in

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Map 2. Pronoun Exchange in the SED fieldworker notebooks

the world’s languages and which to date has only been observed for non-standard varieties (see Pawley, this volume; Rohdenburg 2004: 343–348; Siemund 2002): The distinction that is made between different types of nouns is that of mass versus count nouns. Gender distinctions are based on that division, so that only count nouns use the forms we know as masculine and feminine, while mass nouns use neuter it exclusively. In reality, the system is much more complex. The factors influencing gender assignment in a number of varieties of English, including StE, are discussed in detail in Wagner (2004b). Illustrative material is provided in (6). (6)

a. »ÅI d´ »mÅInd »w√n tÅIm wEn De˘ dId »k碬 n »gardn QUs (38 Do 3, book V) ‘I remember one time when we called it garden house.’ b. »SUt DIk »dç´r Di˘s »gÅt n »dZarIn ‘Shut that door, thee hast got it jarring.’ (31 So 14, book IX) c. That ball won’ glance. If ’e’s split ’e won’t. (37 D 10, book VIII) d. I bet thee cansn’ climb he [= tree]. (32 W 9, book VIII) e. He do [d´] go now. He ‘ave been a good watch. (31 So 11, book VII)

This section contains results from a study based on the responses to 10 SED questions possibly containing “gendered” pronouns. The questions and the respective

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referents that were used are: I.7.1 (“thing”), I.11.2 (cart), I.11.6 (cart), VIII.7.6 (bone), IX.2.6 (door), IX.2.8 (door), IX.3.1 (knife), IX.4.4 (spade), IX.8.2 (ball), IX.9.3 (“something”). Two things are noteworthy about the areal distribution of “gendered” pronouns in the Basic Material: First of all, the Southwest – once probably homogeneous regarding its use of “gendered” pronouns – appears to have given way to the system known from StE to different degrees in different regions. While the far West has been rather resistant to change, with percentages of “gendered” pronouns still between 80% and 100%, particularly Somerset shows figures much lower than some more eastern locations. Second, from the impression gained from the areal distribution of pronoun exchange, the figures for “gendered” pronouns, like pronoun exchange a traditional dialect feature, should be much lower in West Cornwall than they actually are. If due to its shorter history English in West Cornwall truly were closer to StE, we would expect “gendered” pronouns to be among the first features that disappear (if they ever existed in the first place). The impression of a surprisingly dialectal West Cornwall based on the Basic Material data is supported by the results from the fieldworker notebooks data. Map 3 shows the percentages of masculine forms used in responses which would trigger a neuter pronoun in StE. Looking at the eastern belt of locations

Map 3.

Distribution of “gendered” pronouns in the SED Basic Material

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where “gendered” pronouns are still frequently used, one is forced to conclude that the “gendered” pronoun territory once covered an even larger area, extending both northwards and eastwards. When comparing Maps 2 and 3, parallels are obvious. The core territory of both pronoun exchange and “gendered” pronouns is Devon and the locations bordering it in the West (Cornwall) and Northeast (Somerset). With the NORM informants of the SED, pronoun exchange seems to have retreated from its original stronghold to a higher degree than “gendered” pronouns, which are still used frequently in a belt which nicely coincides with various proposed borders separating the Southwest from the Southeast. Table 1.

Frequency of “gendered” pronouns per county and location (SED fieldworker notebooks)

county

no. of examples

no. of locations

examples no. per location of speakers

examples per speaker

Cornwall Dorset Devon Wiltshire Somerset Total

163 40 126 70 88 487

7 5 11 9 13+1 46

23.3 8.0 11.5 7.8 6.3 10.6

8.2 5.0 4.8 4.7 3.1 5.0

20 8 26 15 28 97

Columns 4 and 6 in Table 1 are of particular interest. Even on a very superficial level, the picture emerging could not be any clearer: Speakers from Cornwall produce most of the gendered pronouns by far and are responsible for almost exactly a third (163 out of 487; 33.5%) of all examples. Speakers from Dorset, Devon and Wiltshire are close to the average of five forms per speaker, while once again Somerset lags behind. This overall picture does not change when looking at detailed distributions per location and per individual speaker. The order of counties is slightly different for examples per location – Devon and Dorset change places (see column 4). Examples per location range from two to 45. All but one of the Cornish locations are above the average of 10.6 examples per location, as are five out of nine in Wiltshire, six out of 11 in Devon, two out of five locations in Dorset, but only one out of 14 in Somerset (Montacute is not included in the Basic Material). The order of counties stays the same when looking at the actual contributors of masculine forms: In Cornwall and Devon all informants do, while this is not so in the remaining counties. One of the nine Dorset informants (i.e. 11.1%) does not contribute, while this percentage climbs to 25% in Wiltshire (five of 20 speakers) and to 33.3% in Somerset (12 of 36 speakers, excluding Montacute). Although the order of counties in the detailed distribution list changes to a certain extent, we cannot identify individual informants who might distort these fig-

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ures. Contributions range between one and 24 per speaker, with an average of five. 70 speakers are below that average or conform to it, while 27 contribute more than their share. Those 27 (or 27.8% of speakers) contribute 295 forms, i.e. 60.6% of the total of 487. The data presented here once more add to the already familiar impression: (West) Cornwall is much more dialectal than has generally been assumed, at least when it comes to the use of “gendered” pronouns. Somerset in the 1950s, on the other hand, does not seem to have much in common with the Somerset of Elworthy’s times. While the gender system described in his studies can be considered the epitome of West Country dialect, the SED data show a system that is much closer to StE than to the 19th-century West Country one. As with pronoun exchange, the situation of “gendered” pronouns in the modern FRED material is much more difficult to generalize. Although the feature is encountered more frequently than pronoun exchange, “gendered” pronouns are still rare. The only thing that can be safely said judging from the FRED examples is that the traditional system is by no means dead. Although the traditional dialects are influenced by StE and colloquial English, the level of dialect mixture has not (yet) reached a degree where West Country background can no longer be determined: Thus, while most non-standard varieties of English world-wide have extended feminine forms to inanimate (and also generic) referents (see e.g. Pawley, this volume), this task is still fulfilled by masculine forms in West Country speech, making it almost unique among English dialects. 5.2.

Demonstrative pronouns

The system of demonstrative pronouns parallels that of personal pronouns in that they both distinguish count from non-count forms. Based on Rogers’ description it looks as follows (Rogers 1979: 32; cf. also Barnes 1994: 130, 1970: 17–18; Elworthy 1965a: 23, 1965b: 29): West Country

close distant

StE

count

mass

singular

theäse or thick (here)

this (here)

plural

these (here)

singular

thick, thicky (there)

plural

they, them (there)

this these

that (there)

that those

Although a close-distant-remote system has been postulated for Southwestern dialects in some modern studies (e.g. Trudgill 1999: 86; Harris 1991; Trudgill and Chambers 1991: 10), this assumption is supported neither by traditional accounts

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nor by data from the corpora, as examples of a threefold distinction are non-existent or at least difficult to find. Judging from the examples, the traditional system has declined, and the form thick(y) has all but died out, with a total of some 20 forms in FRED, some of which can be found in (7). (7)

a. Well, like thick one what’s in there now, ehr, for killing all they women. (FRED Som_005) b. …they had this here place on the racecourse … (FRED Dev_004) c. …when you come to that there corner, that’s called Tugrushen corner. (FRED Som_014) d. That’s what all them old buildings are. (FRED Con_006)

5.3.

Possessive pronouns

As in other areas of grammar, dialects prefer an analytic strategy in marking possession. Therefore, one would expect to find more examples of the type the father of/on un than his father (cf. Rogers 1979: 32; Barnes 1994: 129–130, 1970: 16; Elworthy 1965b: 13; Hancock 1994: 105; Wakelin 1986: 38; see also section 6 on prepositions for the status of of and on). Although some instances can be found in the modern material (see examples in 8a,b), speakers do not seem to avoid using possessive pronouns consciously. What they clearly do avoid, though, is the neuter possessive pronoun, its, once more preferring the analytic of it (see examples 8c–f), even if this results in two adjoining of-phrases, as in (8c). (8)

a. b. c. d. e. f.

And that was the end of her. (FRED Dev_002) …the owner of her … (FRED Som_028) I had an idea of the price of it. (FRED Con_009) …that car had carrier on the back of it … (FRED Som_029) Sherford was the name of it, that’s right … (FRED Dev_001) …you couldn’ really see the colour of it … (FRED Wil_002)

Rogers’ claim (1979: 32) that its is substituted by the “gendered” alternatives his and her cannot be conclusively drawn from the data. In fact, the occurrence of “gendered” pronouns in the possessive is rather rare. A possible explanation for this could be seen in Ihalainen’s accessibility hypothesis, according to which the standard forms invade the dialect system from the less accessible positions in the Noun Phrase Accessibility Hierarchy. The possessive slot would be one of the first to be taken over by StE forms (for a detailed account of Ihalainen’s hypothesis, see Wagner 2004a). Furthermore, there is no evidence in the corpora that Southwest speakers use independent possessive forms usually associated with the Midlands, namely hisn, hern, ourn, yourn, theirn. It is likely that Rogers, as a native of Wiltshire, where possessives in -n are indeed found, overgeneralized from that observation. The feature is unknown further west, though. For the distribution

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of possessives in -n, see Trudgill (1999: 90 and his Map 20). Traditionally, it is assumed that these are formed in analogy with mine and thine. 5.4.

Reflexive pronouns

Like many other non-standard varieties of English, West Country dialects have regularized the irregular StE system of reflexives by forming hisself and theirselves in analogy with the rest of the paradigm (possessive pronoun + -self/-selves, example 9a; cf. e.g. Barnes 1970: 20). In addition, the plural is not always marked on those reflexive pronouns whose first element clearly indicates plurality (thus: ourself, theirself, but not yourself, which would be singular only) – another common feature of English-based varieties, as illustrated in (9). (9)

a. b. c. d.

…everybody enjoyed theirselves … (FRED Wil_007) Yes, we made that ourself. (FRED Som_004) …they call theirself A-1 Builders … (FRED Dev_001) …the sort of food that we were having ourself … (FRED Con_009)

5.5.

Relative markers

What and to a restricted extent also as do duty as relative particles in West Country speech in addition to the relative pronouns who, which and that (examples 10a–c; see also Rogers 1979: 36; Elworthy 1965b: 41–42). Moreover, the division of tasks between the forms tends to differ from that found in StE. A general observation one can is that dialects usually prefer uninflected and/or neutral forms which are unmarked for case and gender. This generalization holds for several areas of grammar. For relative particles, this means that we have a higher percentage of that with personal antecedents than in StE, as speakers tend to avoid the inflected wh-forms whose and whom. There is in fact not a single example of whom and there are only eight instances of whose in the FRED Southwest texts (ca. 500,000 words). We can also observe a preference for co-ordination rather than subordination – (10d) is a possible candidate for that tendency. The most striking difference from StE, however, is exemplified in (10e) to (10i). StE only allows gapping – a zero relative marker – in non-subject positions. (10)

a. b. c. d.

…we had a big churn what’d hold forty gallons … (FRED Som_011) …(gap ‘name’), you know what was boss … (FRED Som_009) …my dear sister as is dead and gone … (FRED Wil_005) …and there were a man in there and he were a dowser … (FRED Wil_001) e. There’s a pair of blocks down there Ø was made when I was apprentice. (FRED Som_016) f. I know a man Ø’ll do it for ’ee. (36 Co 4, book IX)

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g. … you had a barrow Ø runs from there straight across like that … (FRED Som_001) h. … that’s the last orchard Ø been done around here for years… (FRED Som_002) i. You know anybody Ø wants some, he’ll sell them. (FRED Som_031) When looking at relative clause formation, it becomes clear once more that analytic strategies take precedence over synthetic ones, a pervasive tendency in spontaneous English in general.

6.

Prepositions

(11)

a. A lot of things you see in life if you’d only knowed on it were very interesting. (FRED Wil_011) b. He eat eleven on ’em. (FRED Som_013) c. …give us half on it (FRED Oxf_001)

An interesting feature in the use of prepositions is exemplified in (11). Rogers cites a possible explanation by Kjederqvist, who mentions a possible connection with Middle English where the two items in question were homophonous in certain contexts, but who rejects this idea at the same time. Rogers comments further that “on occurs in places where we might have expected ‘of’, mainly in front of the unstressed pronouns ’en (him), it and ’em (them)” (1979: 41). An extensive treatment of prepositional use can be found in Elworthy (1965b: 87–95). Another interesting phenomenon is what Rogers calls “otiose of” (1979: 41), which is used before direct objects, but only after progressive verb forms. This use seems to have been extended to gerundial forms as well, resulting in utterances like (the) doing of it (‘doing it’). (12a) to (12d) may be taken as illustrations from a total of about 60 instances in the corpora: (12)

a. You couldn’t afford to buy new ones so you had to keep mending of ’em didn’t you? (FRED Wil_009) b. I been driving of her for fifteen, sixteen years. (FRED Som_014) c. I can’t mind the making of them. (FRED Som_021) d. I don’t mind doing of it. (FRED Som_002)

Last but not least, the substitution of certain prepositions with others is distinctive of the area. Rogers notes that up, down and over are used where StE would use to or at, the explanation behind it being a geographical one: over is used “for nearby towns and villages”, while up and down follow the sun’s path – East = up, West = down (cf. Rogers 1979: 41). This is a very frequent phenomenon (13a–c).

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(13)

a. No, that was [name] over Downby, that was another [name] where (gap ‘indistinct’) is. (FRED Som_020) b. Yes, there was one or two down Zennor. I can mind – now hold on a minute. They had one down Zennor, and when [name]’s brother [name] came over Treen to live – that’s below the hotel here … (FRED Con_005) c. …he went up Stroud district … (FRED Wil_001)

7.

Adverbs

167

The absence of the StE ending -ly in adverb marking is another feature that can be considered almost universal in spoken English. It is therefore not surprising that West Country dialects share it. In addition to a number of different intensifiers or boosters (Rogers [1979: 37] lists main “I do feel main bad” [14a] and terriblish), the Southwest probably used real in intensifying function at an earlier point in time than the varieties it is most commonly associated with nowadays (14b). (14)

a. …she were main strict … (FRED Wil_003) b. Oh yeah, they, in the end they was turning out real good furniture. (FRED Dev_010)

Peculiar uses of like are known from a number of dialects, and have probably made their way into casual speech from there. Originally, like was used as a qualifying adjective in West Country speech, meaning rather. Thus, He walks real quiet like would correspond to StE He walks rather quietly (cf. Elworthy 1965a: 33, 1965b: 81–82; Barnes 1970: 34). Examples (15a–c) show this use and some others that are reminiscent of 1990s teenager speech, when like started to creep in as a discourse marker (cf. also Anderwald, this volume on like in Southeastern dialects). (15)

a. ’Course being silly like, I said … (FRED Som_021) b. You had to tie your corn behind the strappers like. (FRED Som_ 006) c. …he used to pick it up like, you know, … (FRED Con_004)

8.

Verbs and the verb phrase

Apart from the pronominal system, the verbal paradigm of West Country English is the sub-system that is the most interesting to investigate. One should distinguish between antiquated traditional features that are no longer or only very rarely found

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today, and those features which may have become less frequent over the past decades, but which are alive and kicking nevertheless. 8.1.

Antiquated traditional features

Rogers (1979: 37; cf. also Barnes 1994: 131; Elworthy 1965a: 21; Wakelin 1984: 82) describes an intricacy of traditional verbal morphology that has since been almost eradicated. Infinitives of transitive verbs that were used intransitively were marked by a -y ending. What we are dealing with here is a rather complex case of functional re-interpretation and extension at the same time: the Middle English infinitive ending was restricted to certain verbs, while it had nothing to do with transitivity. The modern Southwestern -y, on the other hand, can be added to all verbs, functioning as a marker of intransitivity. Thus, examples (16a,b) would constitute a type of minimal pair (from Rogers 1979: 37). While this form can still be found in the SED fieldworker notebooks (cf. 16c,d), it is absent from the comparatively modern corpus material. Note that (16c) supports the claim (cf. Rogers 1979: 37) that the -y is dropped before a vowel. (16)

a. I do dig the garden. b. Every day, I do diggy for three hours. c. aI gÅt »b}e˘v ¬Åt »du˘ j´nç˘ »pIgz te˘met_ ´n »kQUz t´ »mki ‘I’ve got a lot to do today, you know; pigs to mate and cows to milk.’ (36 Co 4, book VIII) d. wi˘ d´ »b}IN QU} »Si˘p In »ami ‘We bring our sheep in (to) lamb.’ (36 Co 6, book I)

A feature that will only briefly be commented on is the use of (unsplit) for to or only for to introduce infinitival purpose clauses (17a–c; see Wakelin 1986: 38; Hancock 1994: 104). While for to is an old StE form and is still found quite frequently in the modern data, simple dialectal for seems to have died out. (17)

a. I’ve got a one, but ’tis a job for keep up wi’ ’em. (36 Co 1, book VII) b. wÅd»Ivr} »EI¬d i˘ vr »dU ´t ‘whatever ailed you to do it’ (36 Co 1, book VIII) c. Always the evenings for to get the men for to do it. (FRED Som_ 025)

Another remnant of an earlier stage of English is the a-prefix found in present and past participles, including some unhistorical uses (cf. Barnes 1994: 132, 1970: 28; Elworthy 1965a: 9; Rogers 1979: 38; Wakelin 1984: 83, 1986: 36). It is ubiquitous in the SED data (18a), while only traces of it can be found in the modern material (18b,c).

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(18)

169

a. ’e’s a-waiting for I (24 Gl 4, book VIII) b. And he were down around Brown’s farm a-haulin’ pigs. (FRED Wil_ 010) c. …if he’d a-been alive. (FRED Som_032)

The forms be and in the plural also am (or ’m) constituted the main part of the historical be-paradigm used in West Country speech. Thus, I, you, he/she/it be, we’m, you’m and they’m were frequently heard in traditional dialect (see Rogers 1979: 38; Wakelin 1986: 36). A study of the modern material indicates that interestingly the paradigm has since shifted towards that of modern West Country dialects, not that of StE. The present tense examples in (19a) and (19b) are therefore traditional, while the simple past forms in (19c) to (19e) can be considered modern. This shift in the be-paradigm is a rare example of a traditional system being substituted by another earlier standard (now non-standard) system. (19)

a. b. c. d. e.

we’m happy … (FRED Som_005) But they’m always giving them a bit of help … (FRED Con_005) I were very happy there. (FRED Wil_008) If you was wrong, you was wrong … (FRED Con_009) …he were in the Navy. (FRED Som_012)

Another agreement feature that to this day is said to be distinctive of Newfoundland English (see Clarke, this volume) is discussed below. True West Country dialect is said to have distinguished the main verb from the auxiliary use of the primary verbs do, have and be. While the forms inflect as main verbs, taking -s in all persons, they do not in their auxiliary function(s), which use the base form. Instances exemplifying this contrast, as in (20), are rare, and it is probably safe to assume it does no longer exist in modern Southwestern dialects: (20)

a. [Interviewer: It makes a messier cheese – was it now –] It do. (FRED Som_025) b. … and in they days the ladies didn’t ride straddle like they do’s today, they used to ride side-saddle. (FRED Wil_001) c. …perhaps it might be a good idea if I has a bit of insight in case mother was taken ill … (FRED Som_011) d. …and they has these long trousers tucked up like this … (FRED Som_ 022)

8.2.

Traditional features still in use

8.2.1. Regularization of irregular verbs Two general tendencies can be observed in the irregular verb paradigms of basically all spoken varieties of English today: partial or complete regularization of the paradigm. For past tense and past participle formation, we are thus facing

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the following possibilities (Rogers 1979: 40–41; cf. also Barnes 1994: 125, 1970: 26–27): (a) maintenance of irregular form(s), but reduction to one instead of two; for that purpose, either the simple past or the past participle form is extended to cover both these uses (e.g. speak-spoke-spoke; break-broke-broke; do-done-done, come-come-come; 21a–c) (b) StE strong verbs receive an extra weak (i.e. regular) ending in addition to vowel gradation (e.g. take-tooked; steal-stoled) (c) StE weak or mixed verbs become irregular (i.e. strong) in dialect (e.g. creepcrope; scrape-scrope) (d) StE strong verbs are regularized (i.e. weakened) in dialect – probably the most frequent scenario (e.g. know-knowed; see-seed; give-gived; blow-blowed; hurt-hurted etc.; see 21d–f) (21)

a. …he done odd jobs for farmers … (FRED Con_009) b. I come here in 1915 … (FRED Som_016) c. …you had to find out which one was broke and thread it through again … (FRED Wil_022) d. So, they went off one night, went up round and catched her ’bout six o’clock … (FRED Som_005) e. …he were gived the push … (FRED Wil_001) f. …you knowed this one … (FRED Con_006)

8.1.2. Double and multiple negation Double (and multiple) negation is among the most wide-spread features of nonstandard varieties and can also be found in the Southwestern dialects. The universal negator ain’t, standing for all negated forms of have and be, is another form that is commonly found in non-standard varieties of English. (22)

a. b. c. d.

…he wasn’t no rogue really. (FRED Con_003) I mean you couldn’t do nothing about it. (FRED Oxf_001) We never went no more, did we? (FRED Wil_017) So anyhow they never had no, never had no glasses nor nothing in them days, you know. (FRED Con_006) e. No that ain’t no use now, … (FRED Dev_002) f. I ain’t doing bad am I? (FRED Wil_005)

8.1.3. Periphrastic do The story of periphrastic do in the history of English is long and well-studied. Nevertheless, its modern unemphatic uses in some dialects and particularly in

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the Southwest continue to intrigue researchers. Klemola (1996) offers the most comprehensive account to date, using both historical and fairly modern traditional data for his investigation. The following account is for the most part based on Klemola’s research and Rogers’ summary of 19th-century analyses, which will be supported with examples from the modern corpora. Scholars generally agree that unemphatic do (do [d´], did) is most often used to express habituality, contrasting with the simple present and past tense forms, and as a tense carrier in affirmative sentences (cf. Klemola 1996: chapter 4; Kortmann 2004: 248–259). Rogers adds another form to the repertoire of what he calls “frequentative” forms, namely the -s ending. The distribution of the two forms is described as follows: “The stronghold of the ‘do’ forms is Dorsetshire but they are also found in Wiltshire (especially the western half), in Somerset and in parts of Gloucestershire. Devon prefers the -s-form with ‘they’ but the other reappears briefly in west Cornwall” (Rogers 1979: 39 and his map). Judging from the modern corpus data (23), periphrastic do is omnipresent with some speakers, while others do not have it in their language system at all. Note that the previously mentioned rule of auxiliaries traditionally not inflecting for person is also valid for periphrastic do, thus generating the forms he/she/it do V. (23)

a. As I do say to my niece, I say, you know, you’re far better off, I said, than what we were, I said. (FRED Wil_012) b. …and then I did cut ’em off as they did grow, … (FRED Som_002) c. But it do get in the barrel and you do hear plop, plop, plop, you want to leave it alone. (FRED Som_013) d. …she did do a lot of needlework, … (FRED Wil_018) e. William, my son, do live down there. (FRED Con_005) f. But they did work ’til quarter to six at night, that was their normal time and as I say, the hooter did blow at the finish and all machines did shut down they were gone within about five minutes. It didn’t take long to do it. They did sweep round the machines before they left, they always do that when the machines are running. (FRED Wil_006)

9.

Summary and outlook

Table 2 summarizes which of the features listed here are found solely in the Southwest, and which ones can also be found in other varieties of English or are even features typical of present-day spoken English, in general. For other features that have not been mentioned explicitly here, see for example Cheshire, Edwards and Whittle (1989: 194–195).

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The picture presented here is essentially that of the late 20th century, the time frame of the corpus material used. However, it should be noted that a comparison of 18th/19th-century features with those found in the modern material reveals surprisingly few changes. Of the features investigated here, Ihalainen (1994: 214) lists periphrastic do, pronoun exchange, “gendered” pronouns, otiose of, and uninflected do/have as morphological Southwestern dialect markers of the late 18th/ early 19th century. With four of five features still alive and kicking, not that much seems to have changed, after all. Table 2. Uniquely Southwest, regional and universal dialect features Southwest

universal

regional (British & overseas)

– pronoun exchange

– no overt plural marking of some measurement nouns (after numerals)

– regularized reflexive pronouns (possessive pronoun + -self/ -selves)

– “gendered” pronouns

– plural demonstrative them (= StE those)

– irregular use (omission or insertion) of articles

– unemphatic periphrastic do as tense carrier

– no overt marking of adverbs derived from adjectives (no -ly)

– regularized be-paradigm (e.g. was vs weren’t etc.)

– mass/count distinction in demonstrative pronouns (?)

– different inventory of relative pronouns (e.g. as, what) – gapping/zero relative also in subject position

– otiose of (?)

– multiple negation – ain’t as invariant negative particle – reduced paradigm for irregular verbs (past tense = past participle form)

The cut-off points between the second and third column, between universal and regional features, are often fuzzy. For the present author, regional features are those which can still be identified with certain regions, although these may be numerous. Universal features, on the other hand, occur in distributions that make it impossible to pinpoint their regional basis. Although the features in the two rightmost columns by far outnumber those unique to the region, the Southwest is one of the most distinctive dialect areas in the British Isles to this day, with a singular combination of traditional features (inherited from earlier stages of both StE and West Country dialect) and those features which even now, after more than a century of investigation, still defy (easy) classification.

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Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Barnes, William 1844 [1994] A dissertation on the Dorset dialect of the English language. In: Andrew Motion (ed.), William Barnes: Selected Poems, 117–138. Hardmondsworth: Penguin [originally published as part of Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect]. 18862 [1970] A Glossary of the Dorset Dialect with a Grammar. Guernsey and St. Peter Port: Toucan Press. Cheshire, Jenny, Viv Edwards and Pamela Whittle 1989 Urban British dialect grammar: The question of dialect levelling. English World-Wide 10: 185–225. Elworthy, Frederic Thomas 1875 [1965a] The Dialect of West Somerset. (Publications of the English Dialect Society 7.) London: Trübner [Vaduz: Kraus Reprint Ltd.]. 1877 [1965b] An Outline of the Grammar of the Dialect of West Somerset. (Publications of the English Dialect Society 19.) London: Trübner [Vaduz: Kraus Reprint Ltd.]. Hancock, Ian F. 1994 Componentiality and the creole matrix: the Southwest English contribution. In: Michael Montgomery (ed.), The Crucible of Carolina. Essays in the Development of Gullah Language and Culture, 95–114. Athens/London: University of Georgia Press. Harris, Martin 1991 Demonstrative adjectives and pronouns in a Devonshire dialect. In: Trudgill and Chambers (eds.), 20–28. Ihalainen, Ossi 1991 On grammatical diffusion in Somerset folk speech. In: Trudgill and Chambers (eds.), 104–119. 1994 The dialects of England since 1776. In: Burchfield (ed.), 197–274. Klemola, K. Juhani 1996 Non-standard periphrastic DO: a study in variation and change. Ph.D. dissertation, Department of Language and Linguistics, University of Essex, Colchester. Kortmann, Bernd 2002 New prospects for the study of dialect syntax: impetus from syntactic theory and language typology. In: Sjef Barbiers, Leonie Cornips and Susanne van der Kleij (eds.), Syntactic Microvariation, 185–213. Amsterdam: Meertens Institute http://www.meertens.nl/books/synmic/.

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Do as a tense and aspect marker in varieties of English. In: Kortmann (ed.), 245–275. Kruisinga, Etsko 1905 A Grammar of the Dialect of West Somersetshire: Descriptive and Historical. Bonner Beiträge zur Anglistik, Heft 18. Bonn. Rohdenburg, Günther 2004 Comparing grammatical variation in non-standard English and Low German dialects from a typological perspective. In: Kortmann (ed.), 335–366. Rogers, Norman 1979 Wessex Dialect. Bradford-on-Avon: Moonraker Press. Siemund, Peter 2002 Animate pronouns for inanimate objects: pronominal gender in English regional varieties. In: Dieter Kastovsky, Gunther Kaltenbröck and Susanne Reichl (eds.), Anglistentag 2001 Wien – Proceedings, 19–34. Trier: Wissenschaftlicher Verlag. Trudgill, Peter and Jack K. Chambers 1991 Pronouns and pronominal systems in English dialects. In: Trudgill and Chambers (eds.), 7–10. Wagner, Susanne 2004a “Gendered” pronouns in English dialects – a typological perspective. In: Kortmann (ed.), 479–496. 2004b Pronominal gender in varieties of English. In: Kortmann, Herrmann, Pietsch and Wagner. Wakelin, Martyn F. 1984 Rural dialects in England. In: Trudgill (ed.), 70–93. 1986 The Southwest of England. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins.

The varieties of English spoken in the Southeast of England: morphology and syntax Lieselotte Anderwald

1.

Introduction

Very little has so far been written about a distinctive dialect grammar of the Southeast of England. Although Standard English (StE) linguistically had its source in the dialect of the East Midlands, London (the seat of the court, of Chancery, of the printing presses) is the place where the standard evolved, and the Southeast of England in general has become inextricably linked with the concept of “Standard English”, so much so that the language of the Southeast is apparently not deemed worthy of dialectological attention. In his historical survey of dialect studies, Ihalainen (1994: 252) expressly stresses that for lexicology, “the Home Counties do not emerge as a clearly focused area on the basis of lexical evidence, which can be accounted for by the close affinity to standard English”. Similarly, Edwards (1993) states that “some observers have doubted whether a distinctively non-standard south-eastern speech actually exists” (Edwards 1993: 235). Indeed, perceived nearness to the standard may be a reason why non-standard speech in the Southeast is not seen as dialect, but simply as “incorrect standard”. Others have cited the fact that London was situated at the intersection of the three Old English kingdoms of Mercia, Wessex and Kent (Edwards 1993: 215); therefore no one distinctive dialect could be expected to continue into modern times and influence present-day dialects. In addition, in Early Modern English times, London was the destination of masses of in-migrants who brought their own dialects. Again, London as the melting pot could perhaps not be expected to evolve its own distinctive non-standard dialect apart from the standard language that arose from this dialect mixture and that was codified around the same time. On the other hand, the fact that we find the Southeast not so very distinctive may be due to the fact that very few studies so far have dealt with the Southeast in any depth. Edwards and Weltens (1985) note in their survey not even a handful of studies concerned with this area, and twenty years later this situation has not changed greatly. The most important monograph to have appeared since then is Cheshire’s study of adolescent non-standard speech in the town of Reading west of London (Cheshire 1982), as well as a handful of articles based on the same material. Although Reading is situated on the border of what is considered here the Southeast and the Southwest, most features in Cheshire’s description are paralleled by other accounts from the Southeast, which justifies its inclusion in this

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article. A little more recent is Viv Edwards’ survey article “The grammar of southern British English” (Edwards 1993); however, this article does not include any original research, and does not systematically distinguish the Southwest and the Southeast. Also of interest is the Britain-wide school survey by Cheshire, Edwards and Whittle (1993) in the same collection, which finds practically all general nonstandard features also for the Southeast, but also some unexpected quantitative differences between, very roughly, the South and the North. Newer material not so far explored for grammatical phenomena in depth is the COLT corpus (Bergen Corpus of London Teenage Language). Andersen (2001) is a first pragmatic analysis of invariant tags and the discourse marker like based on this material. The British National Corpus (Aston and Burnard 1998) also contains a sample of Southeastern speakers which has so far not been much explored (although parts of this material overlap with COLT). Finally, a new corpus at the University of Freiburg of English dialect speakers (FRED, financed by DFG grant no. Ko/1181/1-1 and 1181/1-2) is nearing conclusion so that some comparative work on dialect grammar is now becoming possible (cf. the contributions in Kortmann et al. 2005). FRED also contains material from the Southeast of England (from the counties of Kent, Middlesex and London), which has been exploited for this article and wherever possible, examples from FRED will be provided in the text. Judging from what has been published so far, one could sum up that little has been found that is distinctive for the Southeast; instead we would expect to find many features that today mark non-standard speech in general. An overview of these general non-standard features is provided by Cheshire, Edwards and Whittle in the article mentioned above (Cheshire, Edwards and Whittle 1993). An interesting historical question would be to determine in how far the influential Southeast might have been the source for these developments, in particular as some nonstandard features still seem to be spreading today. 1.1.

Geographical delimitation

The Southeast of England is a relatively young dialect area in classificatory terms. A large area of what is now part of the Southeast – especially the counties directly south of London: Surrey, Sussex but even Kent – used to belong to the Southwest linguistically (cf. the description in Ihalainen 1994). Former general Southern features seem to have receded to the Southwest proper quite rapidly at least since the end of the nineteenth century. Today, the Southeast of England is clearly dominated – and influenced – by the metropolis London (see Altendorf and Watt, other volume, for phonetic and phonological evidence; whether this also holds for grammatical features remains to be seen). Based on Trudgill’s modern dialect areas (Trudgill 1999: 65), the Southeast includes, for the purpose of this chapter, the metropolis itself and the Home Counties, i.e. those counties bordering London: Middlesex, Essex (where it does not belong to East Anglia), Hertfordshire,

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Bedfordshire, Buckinghamshire (where they do not belong to the South Midlands), Berkshire, Hampshire (where they do not belong to the Southwest), Surrey, Sussex and Kent.

2.

Morphology

2.1.

Pronouns

2.1.1. Possessive me The use of me for my, i.e. doing double service both as the object form of the personal pronoun and as a possessive pronoun, is noted by all authors and is well attested in any material from the Southeast. Some examples from FRED are provided in (1a) to (1c). (1)

a. … the fact was that me brother left home, you know. (FRED LND_ 002) b. I sat down to have me tea as usual. (FRED KEN_004) c. I think me memory’s getting bad now, somehow. (FRED MDX_001)

This is indeed a very frequent feature. Although wide-scale studies are not yet available, my pilot study of FRED material from the Southeast indicates that, on average, around thirty percent of possessive pronouns might be me rather than my. The use of possessive me also has repercussions throughout the reflexive pronoun system, as section 2.1.2. shows. Although this phenomenon is generally (synchronically) interpreted as an extension of the object form for the possessive form, it is plausible to regard me as a remnant of Middle English mi/my which, as a very frequent and unstressed form, may not have undergone the Great Vowel Shift. Unstressed mi would thus have fallen together with a weakened form of the object pronoun me /mi/ < ME /me:/, resulting synchronically in this apparently merged form (Krug forthcoming). 2.1.2. Reflexive pronouns Generally, one can say that the paradigm of reflexive pronouns is regularized in the Southeast of England. In StE, the pattern is mixed: myself, yourself, herself, ourselves, and yourselves use the possessive case of the personal pronoun plus a form of self; himself and themselves on the other hand use the object case. Self inflects for number, such that the singular forms take self, the plural forms take selves. In the Southeast, however, we generally find the possessive case used throughout; thus we regularly encounter hisself as in (2a), and, as a consequence of possessive me discussed above, we also find meself used as a reflexive pronoun (see 2b). The plural forms are sometimes formed with self (ourself, themself) rather than selves

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(as in 2c to 2e), which indicates that -self has grammaticalized to a simple reflexive marker and is not perceived as indicating number any more. As a consequence, especially the third person plural shows a great deal of variation: StE them + nonStE self, non-StE their + StE selves, non-StE their + non-StE self as well as StE themselves are all attested, as examples in (2d) to (2g) show: (2)

a. [He] put his hand to steady hisself on top of the winch. (FRED LND_ 007) b. I had ten bob. Two bob for meself and eight bob for the board and lodging. (FRED KEN_001) c. [We] used to have to stand in this copper and bath ourself, wash our hair and all. (FRED LND_005) d. They wouldn’t come round to make theirself a nuisance. (FRED KEN_ 001) e. They would’ve never forgiven themself for allowing me out on the deck. (FRED LND_006) f. They’d do it theirselves. (FRED KEN_004) g. We used to say the fires just eh burnt themselves out. (FRED MDX_ 002)

On the syntax of reflexive pronouns see also section 3.1. below. 2.1.3. Subject us The StE object pronoun us is regularly found in subject position when followed by a noun phrase apposition, as in (3). (3)

a. Us kids used to pinch the sweets like hell. (FRED LND_005) b. Us old boys would be drinking beer, too. (FRED KEN_002)

This feature seems to be restricted to the first person plural for several reasons. The equivalent third person plural form would be indistinguishable from demonstrative them (see section 2.1.5.) and they is not usually found in this construction anyway (cf. Quirk et al. 1985: 352–353). The second person has identical forms for subject and object pronouns (you), so that an exchange cannot be documented. With singular pronouns (except you) a combination with a noun phrase is probably not possible. 2.1.4. Singular us As in most other dialect areas, the plural object form us can be used in place of the singular me. Although this phenomenon can be clearly documented, it is difficult to quantify, as extensive context is necessary to determine the exact reference. Some examples are given in (4).

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a. He says, Give us a fiver for it, Ted, and you can have it. (FRED KEN_ 002) b. Show us them boots! (FRED LND_003)

As Edwards notes, “there are restrictions on the distribution of plural forms for reference to the singular. Thus, while it is possible to use us for me, the corresponding use of we for I does not occur” (Edwards 1993: 231). Even in the same context of requests, it seems unlikely that third person them would substitute him or her. Instead, this phenomenon seems to be specific to the first person, and to imperatives. Whether the use of us for me has its origin in being a mitigating factor in requests has not been investigated yet. 2.1.5. Them as demonstrative pronoun The system of demonstrative pronouns is much the same in the Southeast as in StE: we find a two-way distinction between near and distant objects. However, as in many other dialect areas, for distant plural objects them is used rather than StE those: (5)

a. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen them old drinking horns, have you? (FRED KEN_001) b. That was the way of life in them days. (FRED LND_002) c. That bloke used to cut them willows. (FRED MDX_002)

The use of them rather than those as the distal demonstrative pronoun is a highly frequent phenomenon; for example, FRED data from Kent has them rather than those in over seventy percent of all possible cases. 2.2.

Past tense verb paradigms

As in other dialect areas, many speakers in the Southeast have verb paradigms different from the standard. Authors have tried to systematize the differences in various ways. It is clear that overall, irregular verb paradigms of the standard tend to be simpler than in StE. This concerns in particular StE strong verbs which have three-way paradigms (e.g. know-knew-known; see-saw-seen) and strong verbs with two-way paradigms (e.g. run-ran-run; come-came-come). While each verb undoubtedly has its own history, and many non-standard forms may be carryovers from historical forms that did not make it into the standard, today non-standard grammar is often interpreted as simplifying the StE system. Thus, three-part paradigms are reduced to just two items – although it is not predictable whether the past tense form or the past participle is extended to the other function – and we also often find that two-part paradigms are reduced to just one form, as in the cases of come or run. Particularly frequent in previous accounts as well as my data from

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the Southeast seems to be the simplification of come to the past tense and the use of done for the past tense, as in (6) and (7). (6)

I was standing looking at a chap working, and he come up to me and wanted to know (FRED KEN_005)

(7)

He worked, but what he done for a living, I don’t know. (FRED LND_ 001)

In the case of (6), this results in a paradigm that today looks maximally simplified: it contains only the one form come-come-come, and past tense meaning is only inferable from the context (except in the third person singular, where it is also signalled by the absence of the present tense -s, as example [6] illustrates). Parallel to past tense come we also encounter past tense become. The past tenses of give and run also seem to follow this pattern fairly frequently. In the case of (7), the StE three-part paradigm do-did-done is reduced to the two-part paradigm do-done-done. This is a case of simplification, but not of regularization (do will be discussed in more detail in section 3.3.4.). Cheshire (1982) distinguishes three classes of verbs: (a) verbs that are weak in the non-standard, but still strong in the standard, i.e. that have a non-standard past tense with -ed such as, in her data, gived, holded, drawed, swinged, runned, blowed, fighted and waked. (b) verbs where the StE past tense form is used for both the past tense and the (non-standard) past participle, as in go, take, forget, run, break, throw, beat and see. (c) In a third class, the reverse is the case, and the StE past participle is used for both the non-standard past tense and past participle, as for come, become, run and do. Particularly for the first three of these forms, however, present tense and past participle are identical in form, so that one could equally well speak of a maximally simplified system. For some highly frequent verbs like know, break, see or eat, however, we find a variety of non-standard forms co-existing alongside each other, and indeed alongside the StE forms. (As most other dialect features today, the past tense/past participle forms are variable and co-exist with the corresponding StE forms.) In Cheshire’s system, the same word can belong to several classes. This solution might however obscure the potentially interesting character of these verbs. Edwards for example draws attention to the fact that we find a number of different forms coexisting, which in her opinion “point[s] very clearly to a process of linguistic change which is still in progress” (Edwards 1993: 221). However, detailed studies of this change in progress are still missing, both in comparison with the historical switch of strong verbs to weak verbs, and in comparison with other dialect areas. What is becoming obvious from the published accounts, though, is that those irregular paradigms of the standard which still consist of three different forms (present tense, past tense, past participle, e.g. see-saw-seen or drive-drove-driven) tend towards a paradigm that is differentiated only along two ways (a present

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tense form, and then identical past tense and past participle forms). In this regard, irregular verbs of the non-standard are becoming more similar to the regular verbs in -ed (of standard and non-standard): Even if they do not completely switch verb classes from strong verbs to weak verbs, they do follow the same pattern of not differentiating between past tense and past participle forms (cf. see-seen-seen parallel to start-started-started). 2.3.

New modal verbs

Krug (2000) discusses the emergence of some new modal verbs, his “emerging modals” WANT TO, BE GOING TO, HAVE GOT TO and, more marginally, HAVE TO and NEED TO. Often, these occur as contracted forms, especially wanna, gonna, gotta and hafta. Interestingly, the contracted forms also tend to go together with a shift in meaning. Wanna for example seems to be on the path of becoming a modal, exhibiting the meaning of obligation, if not even a command, as in (8), gonna is becoming a simple future marker, and gotta has developed epistemic readings from the – still more frequent – deontic ones, as in (9). (8)

You’ve got toothache? You wanna see a dentist! (Krug 2000: 147)

(9)

And I think probably it’s got to be her. (Krug 2000: 94)

Although these forms can be found practically all over Great Britain today, quantitative differences based on regional comparisons from the BNC suggest that they may have had their source in the Southeast of England (cf. Krug 2000: 111–114, 185–192).

3.

Syntax

3.1.

Use of untriggered reflexive pronouns

In the Southeast of England, we encounter the use of self-forms that need no antecedent for their interpretation (so-called untriggered self-forms). What looks like a reflexive pronoun thus takes over the function of a simple pronoun. Untriggered self-forms are reported to appear especially in subject position, and especially in co-ordinated noun phrases (cf. Hernández 2002), and data from FRED supports this also for the Southeast of England, as examples (10) and (11) illustrate. (10)

No, my younger brother and myself was his favourites. (FRED LND_ 001)

(11)

Interviewer: How many of you were there? Informant: There was meself, and me sister’s four years younger than me. And then there’s eh a brother of mine. (FRED KEN_005)

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3.2.

Lack of plural -s with measurement nouns

It is widely reported that the Southeast permits the use of singular nouns after numbers or, put differently, generally has nouns of measurement in the singular, again as in many other dialects. Some examples are given in (12). (12)

a. I had it made, cost thirteen pound, in nineteen twenty-six. (FRED KEN_002) b. These people used to move the fence three foot every night. (FRED MDX_002) c. We got five mile to walk. (FRED KEN_006)

A careful analysis of a range of nouns of measurement paints a more differentiated picture, however. Not all nouns of measurement occur in the singular. Ounces and yards for example regularly appear in the plural in FRED with numbers larger than one, as do days, weeks, and inches. Mile, pound and foot, as in the examples in (12), on the other hand, are usually found in the singular. Historically, these units of measurement were regularly used in the singular after numbers, as the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) documents. Plural use of these nouns (as measurement nouns) was introduced into the standard at different times for the individual lexemes, and indeed singular foot is still variably used even today in StE as a noun of measurement, while singular pound is still permitted in combinations (e.g. two pound ten), according to the OED (cf. OED, sub voce foot, pound, mile). 3.3.

Subject-verb concord

3.3.1. BE was/were variation In the Southeast of England, plural pronouns are extremely frequently used with the StE singular form was. Thus the combination of we, you, and they with was is almost categorical (around 80 percent in the data from FRED). Occasionally was is also used with full noun phrases, as examples (13d) and (13e) show (names have been anonymized by the use of the asterisk *; two asterisks represent two syllables). (13)

a. b. c. d.

We was never without food. (FRED KEN_003) So you was a week on labour, a week off. (FRED LND_006) They lost their mother when they was boys. (FRED MDX_001) And that was where the first aeroplanes was built, over at Eastchurch. (FRED KEN_006) e. Never out of work, none of me brothers was ever out of work, never. (FRED LND_001)

(14)

a. Interviewer: Was it easy to get into trouble there? Informant: It were easy. Yeah, very easy. (FRED LND_001)

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b. He also worked for a very long time for Mr G**, that were young Mr F* G**, that had his building-yard up at D*’s Farm (FRED MDX_ 001) The reverse phenomenon, i.e. singular subjects occurring with the StE plural form were, also occurs in FRED, but only exceedingly rarely. In all three counties represented, relative frequencies are under or around the one percent mark for wereregularization. Two of the rare examples are provided in (14). The – far more usual – extension of was to plural subjects also holds for the negated forms, although confirmation is sometimes difficult as negation itself is quite rare (in data from FRED, one negative verb form occurs only per every sixteen positive verb forms). It is generally noted that negation plays an important role for this phenomenon, but for these particular dialect areas in FRED, relative frequencies for was-regularization are more than twice as high than for the negative equivalent, the use of plural pronouns with wasn’t. 3.3.2. There + BE Existential there is frequently used with the singular forms of BE, even if it refers to a plural subject. This is the case both for present and past tense forms of BE. Thus we regularly find there is and there was with reference to a following plural subject, as in (15). (15)

a. There’s no false ceiling, there’s no columns. (FRED LND_007) b. There was some papers wanted urgently. (FRED LND_006)

At first glance, this might simply be another aspect of variation in forms of BE noted above. On the other hand, it might indicate a change in the status of there rather than be a feature of the verb be, as there seems to be treated as a normal singular pronoun. Whereas was with plural personal pronouns is a matter of variation, there was is as good as categorical: we was and we were exist side by side, whereas there was for many speakers is the only form attested. In addition, the singular form is also documented for the present tense with there, as in example (15a), whereas is with the plural personal pronouns, i.e. forms like we is, they is, is not attested at all for the Southeast of England. 3.3.3. HAVE full verb vs. auxiliary Has, restricted in StE to the third person singular (he has, she has, it has), can also occur with other subjects in Reading English, according to Cheshire (1982: 32), as example (16) illustrates. (16)

a. We has a muck around in there. b. You just has to do what these teachers tell you.

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Interestingly, in Cheshire’s Reading material, “the non-standard form never occurs when HAVE is an auxiliary verb” (Cheshire 1982: 32). No non-concord forms of HAVE could be detected in FRED, but this may be due to the overall rarity of has compared to the other primary verbs. (FRED only contains 29 instances of has for the Southeast, all of which are standard, i.e. occur with third person singular subjects.) 3.3.4. DO full verb vs. auxiliary For present tense DO, Cheshire (1982) reports three non-standard forms: (a) Nonconcord does [d z] is used with all persons, i.e. also with non-third-person singular subjects, especially when it is a full verb, as in examples (17a) and (17b). (b) Non-concord do is also used with all persons, especially with third-person singular subjects, when it is used as an auxiliary, as in (17c). (c) The non-standard form dos [duz] is used mainly with third-person subjects, but only in full verb use, as in (17d). All examples in (17) are from Cheshire (1982: 35). (17)

a. b. c. d.

every time we does anything wrong that’s what I does it hurts my dad more than it do her one bloke stays at home and dos the house-cleaning and all that.

(18)

But nowadays it don’t matter does it. (FRED KEN_004)

Cheshire claims that the present distribution represents a change in progress, from the earlier main verb form dos [duz] to the present day form does [d z] to the StE differentiation of does vs. do for third person singular – non-third person singular; on the other hand Cheshire postulates an earlier auxiliary verb form do (for all persons) which fell together with StE does/do. Although data from FRED do not support this distinction for the positive paradigm, in the negative paradigm don’t is almost categorical, i.e. also used in the third person singular, as in (18). And indeed this would be the expected form from a former auxiliary do, as only the auxiliary can be negated by adding the negator n’t (the full verb of course has to take do-support). The phenomenon of third-singular don’t is discussed further in section 3.4.2. In the past tense, full verb and auxiliary uses of DO are also distinguished. Cheshire (1982) claims a strict differentiation in Reading adolescent non-standard speech between DO used as a full verb and DO used as an auxiliary. Only full verb DO has the past tense and past participle form done, as in (19a). Auxiliary DO also has identical past tense and past participle forms, but here the form is did. A nice example that combines both uses of DO is example (19b) (both from Cheshire 1982: 48). (19)

a. I done the most to him. b. She done it, didn’t she?

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c. I don’t know what they done with them. (FRED KEN_002) d. but Mother used to take the bets, so did Dad. (FRED LND_005) As (19c) and (19d) illustrate, this distinction of full verb vs. auxiliary in the past tense of DO can also be observed in data from FRED, and can thus be confirmed as a feature of the wider Southeast. 3.3.5. Non-standard -s with other verbs Many regular verbs sometimes occur with -s with subjects other than the third-person singular. It is not exactly clear what determines the use of this non-standard -s, as it is highly variable. Linguistic constraints (preceding environment, following environment) do not seem to play a decisive role. Style seems to be a more important feature. Cheshire for example finds the use of non-standard -s particularly frequent with “vernacular verbs”, i.e. verbs which do not occur in StE at all, or that are used with a different meaning: “it can be seen that the use of a ‘vernacular’ verb acts as a lexical constraint on the form of the verb, strongly favouring the non-standard form” (Cheshire 1982: 43). Some of her examples are provided in (20). (20)

a. I goes, oh clear off. b. We chins them. c. We bunks it.

Especially in (20a), I goes functions as a – non-standard – quotative marker, i.e. a marker introducing (direct or reported) speech. Here goes rather than go seems obligatory. (On quotative markers see further section 3.9.) A more comprehensive database like FRED, which samples a wider range of texts than the speech of adolescents as in Cheshire’s study, indicates that the historical present is not only used with vernacular verbs but also triggered in passages of increased involvement, and this is often marked by -s, as in (21). (21)

I goes into the shelter. (FRED LON_001)

Again, however, more detailed studies on this kind of non-concord -s are still missing. It is therefore difficult to judge in how far non-concord -s functions as a specific indicator of narratives, or whether it is a dialect feature that simply emerges more frequently when the speaker is emotionally involved. 3.4.

Negation

3.4.1. Ain’t Ain’t is probably the best-known indicator of non-standard grammar in North America and the UK. There are only very few exceptions, most notably Irish and

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Scottish English, where ain’t is reported not to occur in the traditional dialects. It does occur in the Southeast of England, as in examples (22a) to (22c). (22)

a. I asked him, and he said, Well, There ain’t nothing you can do. (FRED KEN_003) b. And he said no, I ain’t going. (FRED KEN_004) c. Him and I ain’t been fishing for these last six weeks. (FRED MDX_ 001)

Ain’t is indeed part of the traditional dialect system of the Southeast (see data from the SED on the individual verb forms which also attest ain’t/en’t/in’t, collected in Anderwald [2002: 122–123]). Although the history of this form still remains to be written, it must have been frequent enough by the early nineteenth century for Charles Dickens to use it as a regional stereotype which characterizes his working class characters from London, and it is still very popular there, as Wright notices: “People grumble about this widespread Cockney liking for ain’t, but the thinking Cockney replies that he has to keep saying it, especially for asking questions, because it is so ‘darned useful’” (Wright 1981: 120). And very useful it is indeed, as the one verb form ain’t does service for all present tense forms of BE (am, are, is) as well as for all present tense forms of HAVE (has, have). While there is no differentiation in the use of ain’t for BE (ain’t can be used both for copula BE and auxiliary BE, as example [22a] and [22b] illustrate), it is generally held that only auxiliary (as opposed to full verb) HAVE can be substituted by ain’t, as in (22c). It is thus not possible to have a form like *I ain’t a clue, e.g. according to Hughes and Trudgill (1996: 23). For her Reading adolescent speakers, Cheshire notes a striking regularity in the use of ain’t for these three verbs (auxiliary HAVE, copula BE, auxiliary BE): “Its occurrence follows a regular pattern, with ain’t occurring most often as auxiliary HAVE, in the speech of all groups, and least often as auxiliary BE” (Cheshire 1982: 51). In my follow-up study based on about ten times as many tokens from the British National Corpus (BNC), I have not been able to substantiate this distribution (Anderwald 2002: 117, 135–139). There are however two robust trends across all regions in Britain: if one compares the two primary verbs, ain’t is used much more frequently – in relative terms – for HAVE than for BE (copula and auxiliary uses taken together). Secondly, if we look inside the BE paradigm, there is an equally robust trend that ain’t is used more frequently for auxiliary BE than for copula BE. An underlying reason for both distributions might be the fact that BE is much more frequent than HAVE (at a ratio of about three to one), and that copular BE is much more frequent than the auxiliary (at a ratio of about five or six to one). In both cases, the less frequent member of the pair in absolute terms (HAVE < BE; aux BE < cop BE) is simplified to ain’t much more often – a typical pattern for simplification strategies, which tend to affect high frequency items last. Another possible generalization is that ain’t is used far

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more frequently for the negation of an auxiliary (HAVE or BE) than for negating a full verb. In his jocular account, Wright already points to the fact that ain’t might be particularly frequent in interrogatives (Wright 1981). The data support this, especially if one takes into account the different phonetic forms that ain’t can take (in particular, /e nt/ / nt/ and /ent/, usually transcribed as ain’t, in’t and en’t). As Cheshire has noted, “tag questions strongly favour the use of a non-standard form” (Cheshire 1982: 55), and in particular in’t occurs almost exclusively in tag questions. From here it is only a short step to the highly contracted tag question innit, which will be dealt with in section 3.7.1. 3.4.2. Third person singular don’t The negative form of present tense DO is don’t across the whole of the Southeast, as in (23). This is possibly an independent development from positive third person singular do mentioned above, but could also be plausibly interpreted as a relic of an earlier, more widespread auxiliary do used for all persons. (23)

a. That’s funny, He don’t live in there. (FRED LND_005) b. They say, What the eye don’t see, the heart don’t grieve. (FRED LND_004)

Although don’t is almost categorical in data from FRED, absolute figures are so low that quantitative analyses do not seem feasible for this phenomenon. Again, this is a feature that is not restricted to the Southeast of England. 3.4.3. Multiple negation/negative concord Cheshire, Edwards and Whittle (1993) have very tentatively suggested that – contrary to every expectation – multiple negation (or negative concord) seems to be more frequent in their data from the South than it is in the Midlands or in the North. Although they do not provide any statistical analyses as to whether these differences are significant, and if so at what level, their figures look interesting enough to merit further examination. In Anderwald (2002: 109–114) I have investigated this possibility in data from the BNC, and significant differences between the South and the North did indeed emerge. More detailed preliminary studies based on FRED corroborate that there is in fact a robust quantitative difference between the North and the South, such that negative concord is far more frequent in the South, and relatively infrequent in the North. Data from FRED suggests a ratio of around 36 percent negative concord for the three Southeastern counties included, as against just over 11 percent for the North, with the Midlands patterning in between. In other words, negative concord in the Southeast is more than three times as likely as in the North – a striking regional distribution that has not been investigated in detail yet.

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Structurally, negative concord usually consists of the sentence negator not as the first element, combined with other negative elements, as in (24). (24)

a. He wouldn’t give me nothing. (FRED LND_001) b. I didn’t know nothing what to say to ‘em. (FRED KEN_004)

Other frequent first elements are never, as in (22), and, more marginally, no-one. (25)

a. He never got no supper. (FRED MDX_002) b. He never done nothing. (FRED LND_001) c. No-one would never take much offence. (FRED KEN_003)

(On the use of never in past tense contexts see section 3.4.4. below.) What Labov (1972) has called NEG concord to pre-verbal position does occur as well, if only marginally so. This feature has sometimes been adduced as distinguishing African American Vernacular English from other dialects of English, but a careful study of dialect data shows that NEG concord to pre-verbal position is also systematically possible in at least some British English dialects as well, as example (26) shows. (26)

Yes, and no people didn’t trouble about gas stoves then. (FRED KEN_ 005)

3.4.4. Never as a past tense negator Cheshire (1982: 67–71) stresses that in Reading, never can act as the sole negator in past tense contexts with the specific meaning ‘not on a specific occasion’. In example (27), never went is thus equivalent to StE didn’t go. (27)

I never went to school today. (Cheshire 1982: 67)

This is relatively difficult to verify quantitatively, as the meaning is extremely context–dependent, and even a large context is not always sufficient to disambiguate between the standard meaning of never (‘not on any occasion’) and the nonstandard meaning (‘not on a specific occasion’). Some clear cases however can be found in the transcribed material from FRED, and one example is (28): (28)

and, uh, he, he never done a lot of schooling. And he come running out of a, his house one day. And a kid swore black and blue he’s nicked a ten bob note off him. He was gonna get some errands. They turned him over, the boy, never found no ten bob note. And then when they f- the school report, that was it. It convicted him. (FRED LND_004)

Again, this is a feature not unique to the Southeast, but one that qualifies as a widespread non-standard feature in Cheshire’s, Edwards’ and Whittle’s list (1993: 64).

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Adverbs = adjectives

In the Southeast of England, as probably in most other dialect areas, adverbs often have the same form as the corresponding adjectives. This holds particularly for the very frequent adverbs. Again this is a feature already included by Cheshire, Edwards and Whittle (1993) in their questionnaire, and especially the form quick as an adverb is common currency across the Southeast, as in example (29). Other adverbs however are also found in this form, as examples (30a) to (30e) show. (29)

I swum me way out of it quick. (FRED LND_006)

(30)

a. b. c. d. e.

They fussed him up terrible. (FRED LND_001) that used to last you a week easy (FRED KEN_005) That is honest true, that is. (FRED LND_004) If you got proper disabled. (FRED KEN_005) And he’ll have his own Sam Browne [belt] off, and he’d give them so many straps, real strap, real hard. (FRED LND_001)

On the other hand, a large number of adverbs never occur without -ly, e.g. actually, generally, particularly, recently, suddenly. The distinction is not quite clear, but it does not so much seem a function of the etymology of the stem (for example, Romance origin vs. Germanic), but of their syntactic function. Only the prototypical adverbials, with the adverb modifying an adjective or the verb phrase, seem to occur without -ly, while adverbials like actually appear in their full form. Again, there are no detailed studies on the constraints of this interesting phenomenon to date. 3.6.

Subordination

3.6.1. Subject zero relatives According to Wright (1981: 117) and Edwards (1993: 229), it is possible to use zero to introduce subject relative clauses in the Southeast of England, whereas the standard only permits this construction for the object (and oblique) position. These subject contact clauses occur quite regularly and seem to be particularly frequent in the existential construction, i.e. after existential there is/there was, as the examples in (31) demonstrate: (31)

a. There was no nurse Ø came. (FRED LND_006) b. There’s one single house Ø stands right against the school gates. (FRED MDX_001)

Indeed, Quirk et al. claim that in this context (existentials, cleft sentences) we are not dealing with a typical adnominal relative clause, because the left hand portion is obligatory (Quirk et al. 1985: 1250). As they do not offer an alternative analysis,

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however, I have retained general dialectological practice and referred to these constructions also as subject zero relatives. This is an extension of a standard strategy to a position where the standard does not permit it, which results in a non-standard construction. Unfortunately, no detailed regional or indeed cross-dialectal studies are available yet for this phenomenon, leaving much scope for further research. 3.6.2. What as a relative pronoun As in many other dialects, what can be used as a relative pronoun; according to Wright (1981: 116) and Edwards (1993: 228), what is doing service for who, whom and which, and data from FRED confirm this, as example (32) illustrates. (32)

a. Anybody what [=StE who] been away from them, there, well, this last twenty years wouldn’t know it. (FRED KEN_006) b. the stuff what [=StE which] came from the gas corroded the cable. (FRED MDX_001)

In contrast to zero as a relative marker in subject position mentioned above, the relative pronoun what is not permitted in the standard in any position. We are thus dealing here with a non-standard feature that has no parallel in the standard. First results from dialect-comparative work indicate that the origin of what as a relative marker may very well lie in the Southeast, from where it seems to be spreading (Herrmann 2003: 88). 3.6.3. Relative as Another non-standard relative marker mentioned for Cockney in Wright (1981) is as. The relative marker as does not seem to be nearly as frequent as what above, and there are some indications that as is an older form that is receding from dialect speech (Herrmann 2003: 88). An example from Wright (1981) – also indicating h-dropping – is given in (33a), perhaps the only equivalent from FRED is given in (33b). (33)

a. That noise as you ‘eard. b. He … was a chap as got a living anyhow. (FRED KEN_002)

Although this is a very infrequent phenomenon, the regional spread of relative as does seem to reach at least beyond London, as the example from FRED (Kent) indicates. Edwards likewise still reports the use of as “in some parts of the region” (Edwards 1993: 228). Again, however, non-standard relative markers (both what and as) have not been examined in detail until very recently (cf. Herrmann 2003, who unfortunately only includes data from East Anglia, not the wider Southeast in her study), so that regional comparisons must still remain tentative.

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Tag questions

3.7.1. Innit A feature typical of adolescent London speech is the invariant tag question innit. This has clearly grammaticalized from isn’t it, although a derivation from ain’t it is also possible (cf. the discussion in Andersen 2001: 168–179). Today, innit is used with all persons and verbs as an non-canonical tag, as Andersen (2001: 97–208) shows on the basis of data from COLT. Some examples are provided in (34). (34)

a. He gets upset quick innit? (for doesn’t he?) (Andersen 2001: 105) b. you can go with your Mum then, innit (for can’t you) (Andersen 2001: 171)

Andersen (2001: 113–114) traces the history of this invariant non-canonical tag to the multilingual community of London, in particular the Jamaican community from which it may have originated. The non-standard tag innit certainly seems to be on the spread; indeed Andersen states that “it is used by both genders and by young and older adults alike, suggesting that innit is fairly well established as a non-standard tag in London English generally” (Andersen 2001: 109), but in the speech of adults today innit always corresponds to isn’t it, i.e. it is not used as an invariant tag, but as a non-standard canonical tag with third-person singular neuter subjects. Whether the use of innit as a non-canonical tag will spread out from the adolescent population, or whether it will remain a feature characteristic of adolescent speech and thus be subject to age-grading, remains to be seen. 3.7.2. Aggressive tags Cheshire already reports the use of what she calls “unconventional tags” (Cheshire 1982: 57–60) in her adolescent material, especially in the context of (verbal or indeed nonverbal) fights, as in (35). (35)

You’re a fucking hard nut, in’t you? (Cheshire 1982: 58)

Although the form of these tag questions is not necessarily non-standard, the function certainly is. They are intended to convey assertion or even aggression, rather than seek confirmation. Similar uses can also be confirmed for the FRED material and are thus not a feature of adolescent language exclusively, as example (36) shows. (36)

a. I was playing up the wall and all of a sudden, something’s hit me in the bleeding head, hasn’t it. (FRED LON_001) b. ‘Course we had a fight there, don’t we. (FRED LON_001)

Wright similarly notices that “the oddest thing about Cockney tag questions is their use to ask a listener things he or she cannot possibly know, especially in recounting incidents” (Wright 1981: 121).

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3.8.

Conjunctions

3.8.1. Without as a conjunction The use of without as a conjunction introducing finite clauses has not been documented before for the Southeast of England, but the examples from FRED in (37) are unambiguous. In StE, an equivalent construction would have to contain a nonfinite clause with -ing (… without having to sit on the floor), as without in StE can only introduce non-finite or verbless clauses (Quirk et al. 1985: 704). Similar to comparative as and than discussed below, without can be strengthened by that, as in (37b), yielding a non-standard complex conjunction. (37)

a. Because my old man couldn’t walk from here to the corner without he had to sit on the floor. (FRED LND_004) b. He was a very nice man. Wouldn’t let you go in his place without that you, you (pause) cleaned your shoes before you come in the door. (FRED LND_004)

Unfortunately, there are no further examples available for the Southeast, so that this interesting phenomenon remains to be investigated in more detail in the future. A cursory look across FRED suggests however that this use of without is not restricted to the Southeast, but occurs in all dialect areas across Great Britain. The OED supplies evidence that without and without that as conjunctions introducing finite clauses were in use in StE until the end of the nineteenth century (OED, sub voce without). (At least some) non-standard varieties of English here seem to have maintained the historical construction. 3.8.2. Comparative as, than In the Southeast of England, what can be added to the comparatives as and than and thus form a complex conjunction, as in (38) and (39). (38)

Well, Mum was as bad as what he was. (FRED LND_002)

(39)

So he’s about eight years younger than what I am. (FRED KEN_005)

Again, this is a frequent strategy that has not been investigated in any depth yet. It does not seem to have historical predecessors in the standard, as the OED only refers to it as “dialectal” (OED, sub voce what), in contradistinction to without (that) above. 3.9.

Pragmatic marker like

While non-canonical innit discussed above seems to have its origin in London (Andersen 2001: 97–208), the discourse marker like seems to be an imported fea-

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ture from the U.S. (Andersen 2001: 216). Like innit, the pragmatic marker like is used almost exclusively by adolescents and young adults – Andersen states that in his material, “83 percent of the tokens of the pragmatic marker like are uttered by speakers aged 41 or lower” (2001: 225). The pragmatic marker like has a wide range of functions: it is used in “ad hoc concept construction”, i.e. for purposes of approximation and exemplification, as in (40a) and (40b); like is used to construct a metalinguistic focus, as in (40c), it is used as a quotative after BE (as in 40d), and, very frequently, it is a hesitational device or a discourse link (Andersen 2001: 209–299). (40)

a. b. c. d. e.

It’s just like all sticking out all over the place. (Andersen 2001: 237) You know what I mean it’s like all plotted. (Andersen 2001: 237) It’s like one day developing, right (Andersen 2001: 242) I was like, he should come and speak to me (Andersen 2001: 250) I know and like … on Friday yeah … (Andersen 2001: 255)

Not surprisingly, given its recency, this pragmatic like is not found in the FRED material, which dates from the 1970s and 1980s and contains the speech of mostly older speakers. What can be corroborated, though, is the use of a distinct, “traditional” dialectal like for the Southeast of England as well, supporting Andersen’s hunch that this dialectal like is not exclusively a northern phenomenon, as examples (41) from FRED show. (41)

a. but they ‘re dead and gone now like. And eh, I went out with eh, … (FRED LND_003) b. Used to come down here like and have the day (FRED KEN_001)

This older like is used “parenthetically to qualify a preceding statement” (Andersen 2001: 206, quoting from the OED), quite distinct from the new uses as recorded in COLT by Andersen. It is not implausible however that London is the source for the outward spread of these new – imported – uses of like, especially – perhaps most notably – of quotative like which is currently being recorded all over Great Britain (cf. Macaulay 2001).

4.

Conclusion

Most of the features presented and discussed here are not used in the Southeast of England exclusively. However, even if features may have a more widespread geographical distribution, quantitative differences may be hiding behind qualitative similarity, opening up interesting research questions that only larger-scale comparative dialect studies will be able to answer. In the absence of more detailed dialect studies of this overlooked area of England, as well as larger comparative studies that include the Southeast, much of the material presented here must

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remain speculative for the moment. Nevertheless, I have attempted to document some aspects of the grammar of the Southeast of England, hoping that this may serve as an impetus for future research on this surprisingly neglected dialect area. Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Andersen, Gisle 2001 Pragmatic Markers and Sociolinguistic Variation. (Pragmatics and Beyond 84.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Aston, Guy and Lou Burnard 1998 The BNC Handbook: Exploring the British National Corpus with SARA. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Cheshire, Jenny 1982 Variation in an English Dialect: A Sociolinguistic Study. (Cambridge Studies in Linguistics 37.) Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Cheshire, Jenny, Viv Edwards and Pamela Whittle 1993 Non-StE and dialect levelling. In: Milroy and Milroy (eds.), 52–96. Edwards, Viv 1993 The grammar of southern British English. In: Milroy and Milroy (eds.), 214– 238. Edwards, Viv and Bert Weltens 1985 Research on non-standard dialects of British English: progress and prospects (1). In: Viereck (ed.), 97–139. Hernández, Nuria 2002 A context hierarchy of untriggered self-forms in English. Zeitschrift für Anglistik und Amerikanistik. Special Issue: Reflexives and Intensifiers: The Use of self-Forms in English: 269–284. Herrmann, Tanja 2003 Relative clauses in dialects of English: a typological approach. Ph.D. dissertation, English Department, Albert-Ludwigs-Universität, Freiburg. http://www. freidok.uni-freiburg.de/volltexte/830. Ihalainen, Ossi 1994 The dialects of England since 1776. In: Burchfield (ed.), 197–274. Krug, Manfred G. 2000 Emerging English Modals: A Corpus-based Study of Grammaticalization. (Topics in English Linguistics 32.) Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. forthcoming Motivating the Great Vowel Shift: new evidence for the drag-chain scenario. Submitted for publication. Labov, William 1972 Negative attraction and negative concord in English grammar. Language 48: 773–818.

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Macaulay, Ronald K.S. 2001 You’re like ‘Why not?’: the quotative expressions of Glasgow adolescents. Journal of Sociolinguistics 5: 3–21. Quirk, Randolph, Sidney Greenbaum, Geoffrey Leech and Jan Svartvik 1985 A Comprehensive Grammar of the English Language. Harlow: Longman. Wright, Peter 1981 Cockney Dialect and Slang. London: Batsford.

British Creole: morphology and syntax Mark Sebba

1.

Introduction

1.1.

General description of British Creole

British Creole, as explained by Peter Patrick in his chapter on its phonology (see Patrick, other volume), is the product of dialect contact between the Creole language varieties of migrants from the Caribbean (the largest group of whom were Jamaican), and vernacular varieties of urban English English (EngE) (Patrick 1999). Speakers of British Creole (who usually call the language Patois or Patwa), from the second generation onwards, are all bilinguals or multilinguals. At a very early age, they acquire a local variety of British English; at school if not earlier, they will be exposed to Standard English as well. In the second and later generations, code-switching in private conversations is common, with local EngE predominating over Creole. Although grammatical, phonological and lexical evidence indicates clearly that British Creole is based on Jamaican Creole (JamC), its speakers are not confined to the descendents of Jamaicans. They include people whose heritage is Caribbean but not Jamaican, and, on a smaller scale, others who have no Caribbean connections at all (Sebba 1993; Hewitt 1986). As mentioned by Patrick in his introduction, there is a range of fluency in British Creole, from passive knowledge (with only token productive capability) to competence comparable with a Caribbean island-born speaker of Creole. In Britain, Caribbeans were immersed in local varieties of British English and in the second and third generations have become dominant in those varieties. Edwards (1986: 100) describes the competence of some second-generation speakers of Creole as “highly reminiscent of that of second language learners.” Sebba (1993: 39) argues that the speakers he studied are more like ‘new dialect learners’ (Trudgill 1986) in that they acquire, sequentially, a new variety (Creole) which is similar in grammar, phonology and lexis to their first (London English). Creoles within the Caribbean have long been a source of interest to linguists because of their high degree of variability, a variability often modelled as a ‘postcreole’ continuum in which two distinct and mutually unintelligible varieties – the basilect or ‘broadest’ Creole and the acrolect or local Standard English – are linked in ‘a continuous spectrum of speech varieties’ (DeCamp 1971: 350). The great syntactic variability of British Creole cannot be explained by a continuum

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model alone, being due on the one hand to the existence of both Creole-like and standard-like variants for many linguistic forms, and on the other to the frequent mixing of distinctively Creole forms with distinctively EngE forms, sometimes as part of a conversational strategy of code-switching and sometimes, apparently, as a result of incomplete fluency in the Creole. There is evidence that less fluent second-variety Creole speakers ‘create’ Creole by adapting British English forms to make them seem Creole-like. From time to time hybrid linguistic forms appear which can only be explained this way. For example: (1)

What time did unu (you-plural) reach home? ‘What time did you get home?’

This utterance, marked as Creole by pronunciation (throughout) and pronoun forms (unu), would not be uttered by a first-language speaker of Creole in Jamaica, because JamC has no subject-auxiliary inversion in questions. The ‘normal’ JamC form for this question would be (1’)

What time unu (you-plural) did (or en, or ∅) reach home?

The existence of forms like this suggests a strategy of ‘dressing up’ a basically London English sentence (e.g. Did he give you what you were looking for?) as Creole by adding Creole phonology, lexis and grammar. The results sound Creole enough to count as Creole for the purposes of the interaction, but would not pass for Creole in Jamaica. For these speakers ‘Patois’ is produced by a strategy of systematically ‘adapting’ their first language variety to produce utterances which conform, at least superficially, to the grammar of Creole. As a result their Creole intermittently shows some or all of the following (Sebba 1993: 52): (a) incomplete adaptation: insufficiently salient features of JamC ‘slip through’ and fail to be adapted; (b) inconsistency: due to possible learning or memory constraints, some adaptations are made sporadically, so that the same item might appear sometimes in its London English variant, sometimes in its JamC form; (c) misadaptation: where the systems differ in such a way that adapting correctly requires recognising a contrast that exists in JamC but not in London English, speakers occasionally create forms which are neither the target (JamC) nor London English For many British-born speakers, the use of Creole in conversation is largely symbolic: purely communicative functions can all be carried out through the medium of English. The symbolism of Creole as a marker of group identity is powerful even for those speakers who have limited fluency in it. A broad range of speech styles or language varieties might count as ‘British Creole’ for different purposes. For the purposes of symbolising group membership, the token use of a few lexical items with a high symbolic load (e.g. forms of address, greetings,

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swear words) might suffice for the speaker to be considered as talking ‘Black’ or ‘chattin’ Patois’. At the other end of the scale, some utterances of some speakers may be identical to basilectal Creole utterances produced by Jamaican speakers. To summarise, British Creole is very poorly served by models of language which emphasise the separateness of different varieties and the regularities of differences between them. Variability in British Creole results from several different processes: variation with its historical origins in the Caribbean, code-switching, and second dialect acquisition strategies. Patrick (1999: 171) points out that for JamC “a priori categorical statements equating form and meaning are misleading”. Creole languages have inspired innovative models of both language variation and language contact, and ‘British Creole’ (even the label begs many questions) exhibits complexities of both types. For the purposes of this chapter, the morphosyntax of Standard English and JamC as described by Beryl Loftman Bailey (1966) and Peter Patrick (this volume) are used as reference varieties. 1.2.

Sources of data on British Creole

The examples contained in this chapter are drawn from the following sources: 1. A corpus of informal conversations among British-born Caribbean adolescents recorded by the author in London in the early 1980s. This data reflects mainly the usage of adolescent second-generation speakers and would not necessarily be typical of the third or subsequent generations who are by now adolescents themselves. 2. The Corpus of Written British Creole (CWBC) (Sebba, Kedge and Dray 1999), which contains texts in a range of genres produced in Britain by writers of Caribbean heritage. Although all the writers of the texts were based in Britain as adults, the language of the texts does not necessarily reflect specifically British, as opposed to Caribbean, usages. Most of the Creole in the corpus is actually a representation of speech (e.g. dialogue). More information is available at http://www.ling.lancs.ac.uk/staff/mark/cwbc/cwbcman. htm. 1.3.

Orthography

Cassidy developed an orthography for JamC which is used in Cassidy and Le Page ([1967] 1980) and is widely used by academic linguists but little used elsewhere (see Sebba 1998 for a discussion of Creole spelling practices). Orthography in this article is that of the original source for most citations, elsewhere it is Cassidy orthography (for grammatical citation forms etc.).

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2.

Verbal syntax and morphology

2.1.

Verbal morphology: invariance of forms

199

Basilectal JamC is characterised, in common with other Creoles, by invariance of forms. There is a general reduction or absence of morphological processes which commonly serve grammatical functions in Standard English, such as affixation, vowel changes, and suppletion. The corollaries of this, detailed further below, include a lack of person/number agreement, invariance of pronoun forms irrespective of grammatical function, absence of morphological plural marking and invariant verb forms. Even where JamC appears to have morphological marking of verbs, the reality is otherwise. For a few common verbs the base form of the JamC verb derives historically from an English past tense. Examples are brok (‘break/broke’), lef (‘leave/left’). These forms are used invariantly in JamC for both present and past. As with other features of basilectal JamC, ‘invariance’ in British Creole is found variably. In other words, we can often find forms which show a lack of morphological marking alongside other forms, even in the same utterance, which display morphological marking in accordance with Standard English norms. Examples can be seen below in sections 2.2. (example 6) and 6.1. (examples 35 and 36). 2.2.

Agreement

Agreement for person and number is absent in basilectal JamC. Generally this is also the case in British Creole, e.g. (2)

She look pretty though, and favour you too. (CWBC, fiction)

However, in British Creole we sometimes find agreement, even in a sentence where there is a lack of agreement elsewhere: (3)

It seems like young Zukie want Paradise fe himself! (CWBC, fiction)

Although the copula appears in different forms, these do not usually reflect person or number agreement: (4)

OK, star, we know say you is a top soldier down ah Yard. ‘OK, star [a friendly term of address], we know that you are a top soldier down at the Yard.’ (CWBC, fiction)

(5)

I is a very expensive man right now. (CWBC, fiction)

(6)

Me and my spars dem was coming from a club in Dalston. (CWBC, school writing)

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2.3.

Tense – aspect – modality systems

Unlike the Standard English system of verbal tense and aspect, which relies on affixation, morphological change, and the auxiliaries be and have, the JamC basilectal tense/aspect system is usually described in terms of a system of invariant preverbal particles, which allow for a set of contrasts different from those available in Standard English. According to Bailey (1966: 45–46), the particle system comprises a ‘tense indicator’ en and an ‘aspect marker’ a. The third member of this system is zero, the absence of a marker. The following examples show how the tense and aspect markers may combine (the Standard English glosses are approximate): Function

Morpheme

Example

Gloss

habitual, anterior progressive anterior anterior progressive

∅ a en ena (en+a)

Mi ron Mi a ron Mi en ron Mi ena ron

‘I run’ (habitually); ‘I ran’ ‘I am running’ ‘I have run’; ‘I had run’ ‘I was running’

The tense marker which Bailey cites as en does not usually appear in that form in British Creole. It occasionally appears as bin, but much more frequently as did. Examples below show unmarked anterior or past tense (7), progressive aspect marking a (8), anterior tense marking with did (only) (9), and combined aspect and tense marking (10). (7)

Is wha appen Sharon, unnu reach already? ‘What happened Sharon, are you there already?’ (CWBC, scripted dialogue)

(8)

Check wah’ de bwoy ah do. ‘Check what the boy is doing.’ (CWBC, fiction)

(9)

Him did sing pure lovers rock tune. ‘He sang only ‘Lover’s Rock’ tunes.’ (CWBC, school writing)

(10)

de sun did a shine same way ‘the sun was shining the same way’ (CWBC, poetry)

Example (11) below shows that the sequence of tenses also differs from that of Standard English: the anterior marker did occurs only once, at the beginning of a sequence where all the verbs are preceded by the aspect marker a. (11)

Mi did a stan up inna di miggle a di road an mi a flag dung di bus fi stop an nun a di bus naah stop a nuh time at all.

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‘I was standing in the middle of the road and I was flagging down the buses to stop and none of the buses ever stopped at all.’ (CWBC, scripted dialogue) In decreolisation, morphemes of non-standard appearance may be replaced by others which resemble morphemes of Standard English, but do not necessarily have the same function. In this context we may note that an important site for this is in the tense/aspect marking system. Thus basilectal ben or en may be replaced by did, while the preverbal ‘aspect marker’ a may be replaced by a suffix /in/ (modelled on the Standard English -ing ending), with or without a preverbal /iz/ modelled on English is. The first of these changes is almost categorical in British Creole, but the second occurs variably, cf. examples (12) and (13). (12)

Mi did really glad fi see them. (CWBC, school writing)

(13)

We movin in a single file. (CWBC, poetry)

2.4.

Auxiliaries, modal verbs and infinitives

2.4.1. Infinitive marking The English infinitive marker to is most often translated by fi in JamC. In the Caribbean fi is considered to be a marker of extremely broad Creole; many otherwise broad Creole speakers will use tu (English to) in preference (see Bailey 1966: 122–124 for a description of the use of fi). (14)

Me want a permanent stamp fe go ah New York City. (CWBC, fiction)

In some cases infinitive marking is optional in Creole where it is obligatory in English (e.g. after want and start): (15)

Mi nose start run wid misery. (CWBC, poetry)

(16)

I waan yuh play a record for me idren. ‘I want you to play a record for my brothers.’ (CWBC, fiction)

2.5.

The copula

In Standard English the verb to be is used in a number of different functions: (a) (b) (c) (d)

As an auxiliary verb to form different verb tenses: I am writing, etc. As an equative verb: I am a teacher etc. As a locative verb: We are in London etc. As a copular verb with a predicate adjective: This book is old etc.

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Basilectal JamC uses a different expression for each of these: (a’) Auxiliary verbs are not used to form tenses or aspects of the verb in JamC (see 2.3. above): this is done by using invariant particles. (b’) The JamC equative verb a “regularly connects two nominals” (Bailey 1966: 32): (17)

Den him know sey dat dem a duppy. ‘Then he knew that they were ghosts.’ (CWBC, school writing)

(c’) JamC has a separate locative verb de: (18)

Him deh ah jail. ‘He is in jail.’ (CWBC, fiction)

(19)

Me deh pon some serious business. ‘I am on some serious business.’ (CWBC, fiction)

Sometimes the copula is omitted altogether in locatives: (20)

“The bathroom upstairs,” Joseph said. (CWBC, fiction)

(d’) With true predicate adjectives in JamC, no copula is required, the predicate adjective functioning like a stative verb: (21)

Di place clean and di food nice. (CWBC, humour)

(22)

De night did cold. (CWBC, school writing)

British Creole speakers may use /iz/ as a substitute for a and/or de, obscuring some of the grammatical differences between JamC and Standard English. 2.6.

Negation

The main negator is preverbal no, as in: (23)

Perhaps she have a secret man and nuh tell we. (CWBC, fiction)

No can also combine with the aspect marker a to produce naa (no+a): (24)

Mi naah bak affa she. ‘I’m not barking at her.’ (CWBC, fiction)

Other possible negators are never and don’t. ‘Double negatives’ are used with quantitatives in basilectal JamC, and are frequently found in British Creole, where their distribution is similar to that in most non-standard British varieties of English: (25)

Nothing don’t seriously wrong wid him. (CWBC, fiction)

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Ain’t is also a common negator (=BE+not) though it may be better to consider it as British English rather than British Creole: (26)

I in’t taking nothing from none of them. (CWBC, fiction)

2.7.

Adjectives and stative verbs

As mentioned in the section on the copula, predicate adjectives in JamC show behaviour similar to stative verbs. A number of words which in Standard English would be classed as adjectives are in fact verbs in JamC (e.g. dead), and vice versa (e.g. [be] born, [be] named). (27)

One man from de Village did dead. (CWBC, school writing)

(28)

That boy born and look exactly like you people. (CWBC, fiction)

(29)

She sey she name Mervalin. (CWBC, school writing)

3.

The pronoun system

The JamC ‘basilectal’ pronominal system has only seven terms, as follows: person

singular

plural

1 2 3

mi yu im (m/f) i (n)

wi unu dem

Mesolectal varieties would differentiate im (masculine) and shi (feminine) in the third person. These forms are used in subject, object and possessive functions. An alternative construction, fi + PRONOUN, e.g. fi-mi, is available for the possessive: (30)

That a fe yuh business. ‘That’s your business.’ (CWBC, fiction)

British Creole speakers variably use pronoun forms modelled on Standard English alongside the Jamaican forms, where these are different. Thus while mi (for first person subject pronoun) is less standard-like and therefore has more symbolic potential as a group marker, we also often find I (and this particular pronoun has special significance for Rastafarians, see section 8 below). In British Creole, the strict distinction between yu (singular) and unu (plural) may have been lost for some speakers who use yu for the plural, in analogy with Standard English.

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4.

Noun syntax and morphology

4.1.

Plural marking

Basilectal JamC does not mark the plural of nouns, except in the case of animate nouns, which may be followed by the suffix -dem. In mesolectal varieties the Standard English suffix -s may co-occur with the JamC suffix dem, and this is also commonly found in British Creole, with animate and sometimes also inanimate nouns: (31)

Look how me make yuh dumplin’s dem fresh and crispy. (CWBC, fiction)

4.2.

Possessives

In basilectal JamC, in keeping with the principle of invariance of form and lack of nominal morphology, possession is expressed simply by juxtaposition, with the possessor preceding the possessed. The effect is that the ordering of nouns is as in Standard English, but there is no possessive marker (’)s: thus di bwai niem ‘the boy’s name’. This structure applies to common nouns but also to pronouns, so we find mi buk ‘my book’, unu kyaa ‘your car’ etc., although alternative forms fi-mi buk, fi-unu kyaa are possible. (32)

Nuh tell me seh, you nuh recognise yuh husband sister! ‘Don’t tell me you don’t recognize your husband’s sister!’ (CWBC, fiction)

In British Creole, the possessive’s of Standard English may appear variably.

5.

Complementation: the complementiser seh

A number of the Atlantic Creoles, including JamC, and many African languages, have a complementiser which in function is similar to that but which in form is similar to a verb meaning to say. According to Cassidy and LePage (1980: 396), in JamC seh [sE] is used, “after verbs such as think, know, believe, suppose, see or others involving communication, as, tell, hear, promise, introducing the object clause: virtually equivalent to that. (Sometimes that is used redundantly after it.)” Although seh is equivalent to Standard English that in some contexts, the rules governing the use of seh are different from those which apply to that: in fact seh occurs as a complementiser in much more restricted contexts than that. In British Creole, seh is common as a complementiser especially after know, think and tell, and can even be found in the English of British-born speakers (see Sebba 1993: 62).

British Creole: morphology and syntax

(33)

You must t’ink seh me turn English girl. ‘You must think I’ve become an English girl.’ (CWBC, fiction)

(34)

Phone Lefty, tell him seh we ready fe him now. ‘… tell him that we’re ready for him now.’ (CWBC, fiction)

6.

Word order and information structure

6.1.

Question structure

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The process of subject/auxiliary inversion which characterises some kinds of question in written and formal Standard English is absent in basilectal JamC, so the word order of a question is the same as the order of the corresponding statement, e.g. (35)

So how Ethel’s been doing? (CWBC, fiction)

(36)

You heard about Fluxy? (CWBC, fiction)

British speakers of Creole sometimes produce hybrid forms which appear to have subject/auxiliary inversion, e.g. (37)

Did him give you what you a look for? ‘Did he give you what you were looking for?’ (Conversational data, London, 1980s)

Here, the corresponding JamC form would have the same word order as the declarative: him did give…? Did him seems to be a case of direct transfer from English, but is strictly speaking neither English (which requires did he) nor JamC. Since Creole did is not an auxiliary, but an invariant particle, and therefore cannot undergo ‘subject/auxiliary inversion’, the best way to analyse this part of the utterance seems to be as an English string which has been adapted by changing the subject pronoun into its Jamaican form (cf. 1.1. above) while leaving the English grammar intact. 6.2.

Topicalizing constructions

6.2.1. Clefts Clefts are constructions which involve fronting a nominal element. Cleft constructions are introduced by a topic marker or ‘highlighter’ which in JamC takes the form of the copula a (alternatively: is) or zero in positive clefts, and copula a+no in negatives. While in Standard English clefts seem to be uncommon and slightly awkward in questions (cf. Who is it that you’re looking for vs. Who are you looking for?), in JamC they commonly occur in wh-questions with what, when, where and who.

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(38)

A who dat? ‘Who’s that?’ (CWBC, fiction)

(39)

“Is what area dis, star?” he asked. (CWBC, fiction)

(40)

So is weh de load deh? ‘So where is the load?’ (CWBC, fiction)

More rarely cleft constructions can be found in non-questions. (41)

Skeets seh is one ki you bring, weh de rest deh? ‘Skeets said you brought one key [kilo of drugs], where’s the rest?’ (CWBC, fiction)

(42)

We see sey a mini cab him inna. ‘We saw it was a minicab he was inside.’ (CWBC, school writing)

6.2.2. Predicate clefts Predicate clefts are constructions which involve fronting and repeating the main verb (or predicate adjective) for emphasis or contrast. They are introduced by a topic marker or ‘highlighter’ similar to the one used in a (nominal) cleft construction. Predicate cleft constructions are characteristic of some Atlantic Creoles, including JamC, and some West African languages (Holm 1988: 179). In JamC the topicaliser takes the form of the copula a (alternatively: is) or zero in positive clefts, and copula a+no in negatives. (43)

Work?! Where? Here? Joke you a joke, man! (CWBC, fiction)

(44)

A no play we a play. ‘We’re not playing!’ (CWBC, poetry)

Predicate clefts are rare in British Creole. 6.3.

Verb chaining

Verbs in JamC may be combined in ways which are not possible in English. One set of possibilities involves the motion verbs go and come immediately followed by another verb, e.g. (45)

Prettyboy, go bring you gran’uncle something to drink. (CWBC, fiction)

A second possibility is where the motion verb follows a main verb with lexical content, e.g. (46)

Weh you ah rush go so? (CWBC, drama)

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Other combinations of verbs in this kind of construction are sometimes found both in JamC and in British Creole. Verbal constructions of this type resemble serial verb constructions which are characteristic of some West African languages and certain Atlantic Creoles (see Sebba 1987).

7.

Prepositions

The preposition a has a wide range of uses corresponding to some uses of Standard English in, at or to. (47)

Me go a de airport. (CWBC, fiction)

(48)

Me lef’ Jamaica an’ come ah England! (CWBC, fiction)

Other common prepositions which differ from Standard English are ina (‘in’) and pan (‘on’). In written form there are numerous variant spellings of these. (49)

Why should I let you inna me house? (CWBC, fiction)

(50)

Him saddle up ‘pon bicycle an’ t’ing. ‘He’s saddled up on a bicycle and stuff.’ (CWBC, fiction)

8.

The lexicon of British Creole

The lexicon of JamC as spoken in the Caribbean is derived from a variety of sources including various languages of West Africa, languages of indigenous Caribbean peoples such as the Arawak, and colonizer groups such as the Spanish and Portuguese. However, the great majority of the vocabulary of JamC is identifiably of English origin and is recognisably similar to Standard English (LePage and DeCamp 1960, Cassidy 1961, Cassidy and LePage 1980). Some of the JamC vocabulary which is not shared with other varieties relates to species of flora and fauna which are not found in Britain; these words are therefore largely redundant in Britain and may well not be known to second and subsequent generations. Some words relating to widespread Jamaican cultural practices and beliefs such as obiah (‘magic’) and duppy (‘ghost’) seem to be well-known to second generation speakers but are probably used mainly with reference to events in the Caribbean. In the British context, as British Creole functions largely as a youth language, there are many new coinages which are short-lived and restricted to users of a particular age group: hence a popular perception that ‘Black English’ is actually a type of slang. Since at least the 1970s there has been a movement of vocabulary from Creole to the ‘local multiracial vernacular’ of adolescents (Hewitt 1986) in cities with large Caribbean minorities like London. Hewitt (1986) mentions find-

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ing at least 30 items of Creole origin in the speech of young whites. The trend may well have accelerated since then. However, it is likely that the movement is not just in one direction, and that Creole as used by young second and third generation Caribbeans contains new words of British (not necessarily English) origin. The degree of cultural and linguistic contact between Creole and other British language varieties makes the origin of new terms difficult to pinpoint. The work of Rampton (1995, 1999) has shown that adolescents from different ethnic backgrounds in London are able to make use of each other’s ‘ethnic’ languages to some extent. One source of lexical innovation for British Creole is the Rastafarian religious movement, which has developed its own vocabulary for Rastafarian cultural practices and beliefs (Pollard 1994). Much of this vocabulary would also be used in the Caribbean. A distinctive Rastafarian linguistic practice which serves to make common lexical items incomprehensible to outsiders is to replace the first syllable of a word with I /ai/, as in Idrin (< bredrin ‘brethren, fellow Rastafarians’), ital ( weak verbs. (31)

a. The boy dove off the platform and into the lake. b. The plane dove and then went into a spiral.

3.1.2. Sick to the stomach Once restricted to just the Inland North, this is now leeching into the Midlands. (32)

a. The little girl felt sick to her stomach. b. Is he sick to his stomach, too?

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3.2.

Midland

The language used in the North Midland and especially the South Midland shares features with that used in the Inland North and South, respectively – so many that some believe the division to be primary rather than secondary (Carver 1987). That debate does not bear on our discussion here; we use Kurath’s terminology only for the sake of historical consistency. 3.2.1. Positive anymore Formerly regarded as having negative/interrogative bias, anymore now occurs with increasing frequency in positive, non-interrogative sentences (Murray 1993), with the approximate meaning of ‘nowadays’. This usage was restricted to western Pennsylvania, Appalachia, and the Ozarks as recently as the early twentieth century, but now occurs extensively throughout the Midlands and is leeching strongly into the Inland North. The anymore can occur before or after the phrase it modifies, and occasionally even stands alone. (33)

a. Sam didn’t useta eat red meat, but he sure does anymore. b. Anymore them crows just come and eat all the corn. c. [Do you use disposable diapers?] Anymore.

3.2.2. [Verb of volition] + V-en Like + V-en occurs largely east of the Mississippi; need/want + V-en are leeching into the Inland North (Murray, Frazer, and Simon 1996; Murray and Simon 1999, 2002). 3.2.2.1. Need + V-en (34)

a. Those shirts still need ironed. b. The car in the driveway needs washed.

3.2.2.2. Want + V-en (35)

a. That cat there sure does look like she wants petted. b. Is the baby crying because she wants picked up?

3.2.2.3. Like + V-en (36)

a. The baby likes cuddled. b. Be sure to let us know if you’d like picked up from the airport.

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3.2.3. Quarter till (the hour) This is also common throughout much of the South. (37)

a. He said he’d meet us there at quarter till five. b. We’ll need to leave at quarter till if we don’t want to be late.

3.2.4. All the + [singular count noun] or one ‘the only’ Both categories are especially common in the South Midlands, and also occur in AppE. (38)

a. That’s all the coat (= the only coat) he has. b. Is this all the one (= the only one) you have?

3.2.5. All the + [adjective/adverb of positive degree] This is especially common in the South Midlands and South (cf. the feature just below). (39)

a. That’s all the fast it can fly. b. That’s all the far she can throw it.

3.2.6. All the + [adjective/adverb of comparative degree] This occurs throughout the North Midlands and Inland North (cf. the feature just above). (40)

a. That’s all the faster he can run. b. Is that all the farther you’re willing to go on that topic?

3.2.7. Want + [preposition] In these elliptical constructions, the missing infinitive is understood. (41)

a. Does the dog want in/out? b. Do you want on/off that list of names? c. The baby wants up/down.

3.2.8. Wait on ‘wait for’ This occurs throughout the Midlands, and is leeching strongly into the Inland North. (42)

a. We’re not going to wait on you all day. b. She’s been waiting on that bus nearly half an hour.

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3.2.9. [Interrogative pronoun] + all Who and what are common. This occurs especially in the South Midlands. (43)

a. Who all did you say was gonna be there? b. What all do you want me to get out for lunch?

3.2.10. Second-person plural personal pronoun you’uns This occurs frequently in western Pennsylvania and the South Midlands. (44)

a. If you’uns’d just apply yourselves a little more, you’d do so much better. b. Do you’uns want to come with us?

3.2.11. One + [noun] The one of this phrase is redundant when the following noun is singular, and does not limit the number of things specified when the noun is plural. (45)

a. I wouldn’t mind having that one dog in the back. b. Remember those one kids we saw last week?

3.2.12. Whenever ‘at the time that’; ‘as soon as’ This occurs in the eastern South Midlands, especially AppE. It may cause misunderstandings, since whenever can also connote indifference (Montgomery and Kirk 2001). (46)

a. Whenever I first heard the news, I about fell over. b. The plumber said he’d be here whenever he got the chance.

3.2.13. Compound modals Common throughout the South and South Midlands, this involves the clustering of modals such as might and could. (Note: we use “compound modals” rather than “double modals” because more than two occasionally occur together.) Semantically, compound modals tend to lessen the force of attitude/obligation expressed by single modals, so might oughta would be understood as less forceful than either might or oughta alone. (47)

a. You might oughta go to that meeting and express your opinion. b. You might could get a second job.

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3.2.14. Come/go with These elliptical constructions, though found throughout the North Midland region, occur especially often in areas with historically dense concentrations of German settlers. They are frequently interchangeable structurally. (48)

a. We’re gonna go to the store now. You wanna come/go with? b. Dustin’s coming over at 4:00 o’clock, and Michaela wants to come with. c. Honey, Johanna has to leave now. Do you want to go with?

3.2.15. Wakened (as the past participle of wake) This is restricted largely to the North Midlands, and may be dwindling in frequency, being supplanted by the more widespread awakened (or, occasionally, woke). (49)

a. Sylvia has awakened late every day this week. b. When Jim awakened, Cathy was already in the kitchen eating breakfast.

3.3.

Ozarkian English

The Ozarks encompass northwestern Arkansas, most of southern Missouri, as well as small pieces of northeastern Oklahoma and southeastern Kansas. As such, they are Midland, with the Missouri Ozarks bisected by the North Midland-South Midland boundary. OzE is South Midland in nature, yet is different enough to justify separate consideration here. Indeed, the rugged hills of the Ozarks, combined with many of the original settlers being transplants from Appalachia, created a dialectal island that tourists and back-to-the-landers began to penetrate in earnest only in the second half of the twentieth century. Predictably, OzE shares much in common with AppE (Christian, Wolfram, and Dube 1988). 3.3.1.

The verb phrase

3.3.1.1. Verb forms Regular and irregular verbs may take on irregular forms in the present, simple past, and participle. Those in the present tense are restricted to forms with -en(ed) and first person wished ‘wish that’.

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3.3.1.1.1. Simple past forms (those with –en[ed] are especially numerous) (50)

a. He div into that pond, went all the way to the bottom. b. That bear riz up on his hind legs, musta stood eight foot tall. c. He said he boughtened himself a new truck.

3.3.1.1.2. Participle forms (those with be- or -en[ed] are especially numerous) (51)

a. She’s het up the coffee; go get you a cup. b. They’ve cried and holden auctions there for years. c. He got all drunk and benastied [= ‘soiled’, as with vomit] hisself.

3.3.1.1.3. Present forms with -en(ed) (52)

a. Just wait’ll things quieten down some. b. Them chickens there belongen to ole Joe across the way.

3.3.1.1.4. Present tense, first person wished ‘wish that’ (53)

a. I don’t like it here. I wished I hadn’t never come. b. I wished you’d just get on with it.

3.3.1.2. A-prefixing An a- may occur on -ing forms that function as verbs or adverbs (but never on forms that function as nouns or adjectives). This a- occurs only on words in which the first syllable is accented, and most typically on words beginning with a consonant sound. Pragmatically, the a- may be used to indicate intensity. The feature is also ubiquitous in AppE and may occur in other (usually rural) Southern/South Midland locations. (54)

a. He come a-runnin’ around that corner, a-hollerin’, makin’ more noise’n a herd o’ turtles. b. They wasn’t a-doin’ nothin’ wrong.

3.3.1.3. Subordinate hope how ‘hope’ The syntax of the clauses containing this seems generally to be [adjective of measurement] + [subject] + [predicate]. (55)

a. I just hope how long the frost holds off. b. I hope how soon you’ll come back and visit some more.

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3.3.1.4. Completive done This auxiliary done in a verb phrase may aspectually mark a completed action or event, and may also designate intensity. It also occurs in AAVE and in southern vernacular dialects. (56)

a. He done asked her to marry him. b. I done told you to take your shoes off before walkin’ on that carpet.

3.3.1.5. Multiple modals with useta This feature, discussed earlier, occurs in OzE with useta as the first element. It also occurs, less frequently, throughout the Inland North and Midlands. (57)

a. You useta couldn’t get by with that in school. b. It useta didn’t matter whether you walked in late or not.

3.3.1.6. Liketa and supposeta These mark speakers’ perceptions of events that were on the verge of happening. Liketa, a “counterfactual”, is used to indicate that an incident almost but did not quite occur, and may suggest that the proposition carries an exaggerated connotation. Supposeta, often substituting for supposed to have, occurs less frequently and conveys weaker pragmatic assumptions about the event on the part of the speaker. Both features also occur in AppE. (58)

a. b. c. d.

The wind blowed so hard it liketa knocked every apple off that tree. That movie liketa scared me half to death. She supposeta wasn’t gonna go to the dance. I heard tell, Billy was supposeta eaten darn near the whole pie.

3.3.1.7. Co-occurrence relationships and functional or semantic shifts All these occur at least sporadically in AppE as well; most can also be heard, if infrequently, throughout the Midlands. 3.3.1.7.1. Shifts in verbal transitivity (59)

a. He complained me off and on for weeks after that happened. b. Go outside and holler him over, will ya?

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3.3.1.7.2. Functional shifts resulting in new verb forms (60)

a. Come fall he plans to veal up that calf in the field. b. The folks on that side of the hill don’t neighbor [= ‘socialize’] with us much.

3.3.1.7.3. Other complement structures co-occurring with particular verbs (61)

a. Now, don’t you start to messing around with that one. b. Once he gets to movin’, the other team’ll never be able to stop him.

3.3.1.7.4. Main clause have + infinite complements (62)

a. I’ll just have her to put dinner on the table early, then. b. He had three of his best fightin’ cocks to die on him last month.

3.3.1.7.5. Initial for to in infinitive complements (63)

a. He come early for to get a hot cuppa coffee. b. Mavis there believes it’s awful for to serve leftovers.

3.3.1.7.6. Verb + particle constructions (after is especially common) (64)

a. Well, get on outa the way then. b. It’ll be good music, easy to dance after.

3.3.1.7.7. Semantic shifts (65)

a. He took sick last Tuesday. b. Are you aimin’ to get that roof finished ‘fore sundown?

3.3.1.8. Verb coinages with -(i)fy The final -y here is diphthongal. (66)

a. Don’t you argufy with me, young man. b. If I’d known he was gonna speechify so, I wouldn’ta asked the question.

3.3.1.9. Multiple negation This occurs throughout most southern vernaculars and AAVE; the first category is especially common. Pragmatically, multiple negation generally signals force or intensity.

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3.3.1.9.1. Inversion of the negative auxiliary verb and the pre-verbal indefinite (67)

a. Ain’t nobody gonna show up dressed as pretty as you. b. Didn’t nothing that boy ever done turn out right.

3.3.1.9.2. Multiple negative marking in different clauses (68)

3.3.2.

a. Well, Bill wasn’t sure if maybe nobody’d come. b. There ain’t much won’t happen here on a Friday night. Adverbs and adjectives

3.3.2.1. Adverb placement Temporal adverbials, especially those related to frequency of occurrence, may be moved into the verb phrase. This also occurs in AppE and other southern rural dialects. (69)

a. Oh, he’s all the time goin’ back up into them woods by hisself. b. So why don’t you once in a while come over and see us at the church?

3.3.2.2. Morphemic inversion in compounds containing ever This also occurs in AppE. (70)

a. You can just put that in there everwhich way it goes. b. He’s been like that since ever he was little.

3.3.2.3. Intensifying adverbs Some adverbs, especially plumb and right, may be used as intensifiers – plumb in terms of totality, right (often with smart) in terms of degree (analogous to completely and very, respectively, in Standard English). This feature is also found in other rural dialects of the South, and is leeching into the Midlands. (71)

a. I looked in the basement, but we’re plumb out of canned tomatoes. b. That’s a right smart lookin’ tie.

3.3.2.4. Adverbial but ‘only; merely’ This has negative bias, and occurs in the restrictive sense of ‘only’ or ‘merely’. (72)

a. Why, he couldn’t eat but one of ‘em. b. She’s not but 14 years old, and you’ve already got her married!

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3.3.2.5. Absence of adverbial -ly Many adverbs with -ly in standard English occur without the suffix in OzE. (73)

a. I believe he’s from Oklahoma original. b. Ole Doc Martin’ll do it painless, don’t you worry.

3.3.2.6. Adjectival coinages The first category involves adding -(e)y to a noun, verb, or adjective, often resulting in a new word. In the second category are adjectives formed by adding -(i)fied to existing adjectives (-[i]fy is the same suffix discussed earlier in the creation of new verbs). The third category consists of compound adjectives that result from combining a nominal and a participle. 3.3.2.6.1. With -(e)y (74)

a. That road there is ledgey [= ‘full of ledges, or uneven spots’], so be careful. b. Oh, she’s a visity [= ‘sociable’; ‘prone to go visiting’] one.

3.3.2.6.2. With -(i)fied (75)

a. That girl there’s all airified [= ‘conceited’; < ‘one who puts on airs’]. b. Why, once she’s prettified up some, all the boys’ll be askin’ her out.

3.3.2.6.3. Compound adjectives (76)

3.3.3.

a. He got hisself polecat-stunk yesterday. b. That girl who was car-hit last week near died. Nominals

3.3.3.1. Plurals Both categories also occur in AppE, and the second, especially, has leeched well into the North Midlands.

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3.3.3.1.1. Absence of plural morpheme when the noun refers to weights/measures (including measurements of time) and is preceded by a quantifier (77)

a. We walk every mornin’, about two mile right down that road and back. b. Millie was born 93 year ago, and she been kickin’ and screamin’ ever since.

3.3.3.1.2. Regularization of irregular plurals, especially those unmarked in Standard English (78)

3.3.3.2.

a. He got seven deers this year, kept us all in meat the whole winter. b. There ain’t no place for sheeps to graze, too many rocks and such. Coinages

3.3.3.2.1. From adjectives (79)

a. The people in that church is all hatefuls, pure and simple. b. If they come over here lookin’ for trouble, they’ll sure get a lavish of it.

3.3.3.2.2. From other nouns, by adding agentive -er (80)

a. The meetin’ers [= ‘churchgoers’] always get out about noontime. b. She’s a good little musicker [= ‘musician’], she is.

3.3.3.2.3. From other nouns, by adding -ment (81)

a. Oh, the baby threw up her nursement [= ‘milk that the baby nursed’]. b. You go put all your playments [= ‘toys’, or things played with] away now.

3.3.3.3. Pronouns The third category is also widespread, especially in southern vernaculars. Personal datives result from the use of two personal pronouns in the same clause, the second being an object pronoun (if it is third person and reflexive, that object pronoun may be regularized). The resultant meaning is benefactive, similar to Standard English for + [reflexive].

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3.3.3.3.1. Compound forms with here or there (82)

a. This here barn is over a hundred years old. b. Then he started storyin’ again, tellin’ about them there flyin’ saucers he seen.

3.3.3.3.2. Absolute possessives with -n (83)

a. That there’s hisn applepicker. b. Why don’t you come over to ourn orchard and take a few bushels?

3.3.3.3.3. Personal datives (84)

a. I got to go get me a new truck. b. Annie sewed herself a new dress, looked right pretty.

3.3.3.3.4. Existential they/it These occur frequently with contracted is. They is also found in other southern vernaculars; it has leeched throughout the Midlands. (85)

a. They’s a den of snakes under that there slab of concrete. b. It ain’t no rhyme or reason, boy, it’s just the way it is.

3.3.4. Prepositions At least the first two categories exist in AppE as well; the first is also leeching northward. 3.3.4.1. Selection of a preposition (usually of) serving as the axis of the phrase (86)

a. We like to set on the porch of an evening and just enjoy the quiet. b. She come over about 8:00 of the mornin’ and give us the news.

3.3.4.2. Absence of a preposition (87)

a. Let’s go over [to] the church a little early. b. He woulda been 76 [on] his next birthday.

3.3.4.3. Substitution of to for at (88)

a. Sorry, there’s no one to [= ‘at’] home. b. They all jumped him to once.

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3.3.5.

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Conjunctions

3.3.5.1. Pleonastic constructions The first also appears in southern vernaculars like AppE. Like as if occurs especially in constructions reflecting great emotion; but though may carry no special pragmatic force. 3.3.5.1.1. Like as if (89)

a. You’re talkin’ at ‘im like as if he’s just a boy when he’s near 19 year old! b. Don’t treat me like as if I’m some damn cripple!

3.3.5.1.2. But though (90)

a. He don’t really want to go, but though he will. b. I can’t hardly ride that horse no more, but though I will.

3.3.6. Miscellaneous This characteristic crosses many categories of traditional grammar. 3.3.6.1. Expansive aSeveral a-usages occur besides the a-prefixing discussed earlier. The second appears to be leeching farther northward into the Midlands; the third may be obsolescing. 3.3.6.1.1. Corresponding to a preposition in Standard English (91)

a. We seen a skunk right there a-back the barn. b. Just keep goin’ right on a-down that road till it forks, and you’ll see it.

3.3.6.1.2. As part of an alternate representation of a lexical item (usually a restricted set of adverbs or nouns) (92)

a. You go a-way back up there, you’ll find some [moonshine] stills, guarantee. b. They talk a good line, but not a-one of ‘em shoots better than Joe here.

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3.3.6.1.3. With forms other than -ing participles (93)

a. He just up and a-quit, no explanation or nothin’. b. He hadn’t a-run that far in years.

4.

Final remarks

The picture we have painted here is a synchronic one, and therefore temporary. For sociocultural, sociohistorical, and linguistic reasons, American English will continue to evolve in ways that reflect the changing needs and priorities of its users. To conclude our essay, we anticipate the future state of the variation we have considered. We can offer only intelligent guesses, but linguistic history suggests that very few surprises are on the horizon. We can be relatively sure, for example, that regardless of what specific changes occur, the dialects discussed here will continue to remain distinct. The common lay assumption is that the increasing social/geographic mobility of the American people, coupled with their great reliance on the media for information and entertainment and their general tendency toward cultural homogenization, will eventually cause the dialects in the United States to level out. But most linguists agree that, however much the varieties of American English change and simplify, the people who use them are too diverse ever to converge their linguistic choices into a single way of speaking. Social class, gender, age, ethnicity, group and personal identity, and other factors are reflected in the language Americans use, and probably always will be. We can also be relatively sure that the dialects of the North, West, and Midwest will retain some of their nonstandard characteristics. For example, analogy and rule extension have regularized some part-of-speech paradigms in the dialects we discussed: the third person, singular, present tense morpheme is often deleted (It don’t matter), and the plural morpheme may not be applied to measurement nouns (We walked two mile down that road). Now, sentences in which the vernacular elements of these regularized paradigms occur have the same meaning as, and are less redundant than, those found in Standard English (the it of It don’t matter signals third person and singular, and the two of We walked two mile down that road indicates plurality), and, given that languages tend to evolve toward structural simplicity, it is unlikely those redundant elements will be reinstated. When simplicity conflicts with the retention of meaning, however, speakers will preserve the meaning – that is, will adhere to the “transparency principle” (Wolfram and Schilling-Estes 1998: 43–44). While the negation in It don’t matter is structurally simpler than that in It don’t matter none, for example, the transparency principle will prevent the loss of none from the second sentence since mul-

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tiple negation signals a pragmatic force or emphasis not present in single negation. In short, It don’t matter and It don’t matter none have slightly different meanings, and the transparency principle will preserve that difference (that is, to the degree to which it is valued by speakers who use multiple negation). We also know that people’s opinions about the standardness of individual features will change. We have already said that many of the forms discussed above are spreading socially and/or geographically; we note here that such spreading often occurs in the face of loud objections by language purists. Eventually these objections will probably cease, some of the forms now objected to will come to be accepted, and new disapproval will rise against a different set of shibboleths. Adverbial sure (as in John sure does like chocolate cake), participial proven (as opposed to proved), conjunctive like (as in He went through that store like he’d won a million dollars) nominative me (as in Danny’s four years older than me), and a host of other constructions were once nonstandard, but are now widely judged respectable if not altogether cultured. Will all the features currently labeled “vernacular” ultimately be accepted and used by speakers of Standard English? Of course not. And herein lies another certainty about the future of the dialects we have examined here – one that may, indeed, determine their development more than any other: people will always judge the quality of those dialects, and of those dialects’ features, by those who use them, and people judged less desirable overall will continue using dialects that mirror that lack of desirability. As we mentioned in our introduction, correctness in language is social, not linguistic.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. McDavid, Raven I. 1958 The dialects of American English. In: W. Nelson Francis (ed.), The Structure of American English, 480–543 (maps 579–585). New York: Ronald. Montgomery, Michael B. and John M. Kirk. 2001 ‘My mother, whenever she passed away, she had pneumonia’: The history and functions of whenever. Journal of English Linguistics 29: 234–249. Murray, Thomas E. 1993 Positive anymore in the Midwest. In: Timothy C. Frazer (ed.), “Heartland” English: Variation and Transition in the American Midwest, 173–186. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. Murray, Thomas E., Timothy C. Frazer and Beth Lee Simon. 1996 Need + past participle in American English. American Speech 71: 255–271.

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Murray, Thomas E. and Beth Lee Simon. 1999 Want + past participle in American English. American Speech 74: 140–164. 2002 At the intersection of regional and social dialects: The case of like + past participle in American English. American Speech 77: 32–69. Randolph, Vance and George P. Wilson. 1953 Down in the Holler: A Gallery of Ozark Folk Speech. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Shapiro, Fred R. 1998 A study in computer-assisted lexicology: Evidence on the emergence of hopefully as a sentence adverb from the JSTOR journal archive and other electronic resources. American Speech 73: 279–296.

Appalachian English: morphology and syntax Michael B. Montgomery

1.

Introduction

Appalachia is a large, mainly mountainous region of the eastern United States that is variously defined. Its core territory encompasses seven states (or parts thereof) from West Virginia and Ohio to Georgia, but the definition formulated by the Appalachian Regional Commission, a federal agency, is the broadest (from central New York southwest to northeastern Mississippi, with a population of 23 million) and is the only one having semi-official status. Settlement of Appalachia by Europeans began in the 1730s, mainly with Scotch-Irish and Germans moving southwestward from Pennsylvania and by English from eastern Virginia and the Carolinas, with smaller numbers of Welsh, French, and other nationalities. With the well-known exception of the Cumberland Gap linking northeastern Tennessee to southeastern Kentucky, the path of settlement usually followed river valleys and led to market towns such as Roanoke, Virginia (1740), and Knoxville, Tennessee (1786). Only later did people begin to move into higher elevations and establish the traditional culture now commonly associated with the region. Today the population of Appalachia is more than twice as rural as the country at large. More has been written about the English spoken in Appalachia than about any other American region, with the possible exception of the Deep South (for a comprehensive listing, see McMillan and Montgomery 1988). Since the 1880s commentators have stressed its conservatism above all other qualities and claimed that it was “Elizabethan” (Mongomery 1998), preserving early stages of development superseded elsewhere (afeard ‘afraid’, holp ‘helped’, etc.); for the development of research paradigms in the field, see Montgomery (2004) and Wolfram (1977). Until recently travel in or across the largely mountainous region has often been difficult (peaks range to more than 6600 feet high), and many smaller communities have been physically remote from centers of population. For these reasons, commentators have characterized the entire region as “isolated”, a quality that is, however, as much socio-psychological (having to do with adherence to a rural folk culture, cultural solidarity, and so on) as geographical, and one that has been greatly overstated (Montgomery 2000). Three historical characteristics of English in Appalachia other than its conservatism are noteworthy. First, its ancestry from the British Isles is quite mixed, and it has few borrowings from other languages. Its distinctive grammar is sometimes traceable to southern England (a- as a prefix on verb present participles, as

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a-goin’; -n on possessive pronouns, as hern, yourn), but is more often ScotchIrish, deriving from Scotland and northern England through the Irish province of Ulster (you’uns ‘you (plural)’, whenever in reference to a single event, as I was just eight whenever she died). In contrast, the phonology of its vowel system and individual words comes, except for a few minor details, from Southern England. Appalachian vocabulary comes predominantly from England in general, to a lesser extent northern England (galluses ‘suspenders’), western England (counterpane ‘bedspread’), Scotland (residenter ‘resident, old-timer’), and Ulster (airish ‘chilly, cool’); see Schneider (1994). Second, Appalachian speech is far more accurately described as “colonial American” than “Elizabethan”, because it shares many more forms with the 18thcentury (obleege ‘oblige’, jine ‘join’) than with Shakespeare’s English. Third, it is as innovative as it is conservative. This is true for grammar (as in the reversal of elements in wh- compounds, producing everwhat ‘whatever,’ everwho ‘whoever,’ etc.), phonology (merger of vowels in pen/pin and so on), and especially vocabulary (hippoes ‘an imaginary or pretended ailment,’ from hypochondria; man-power ‘to move by brute effort’). Of the vocabulary, pronunciations, and grammatical patterns found mainly in Appalachia and not shared by the U.S. in general, only about twenty percent can be traced to the British Isles. Because of its varied history, its large expanse, and its loose borders, Appalachia represents neither a distinct nor a unified speech region. Settlement by different groups or different proportions of groups, along with subsequent innovations, produced several sub-regional varieties, but much less so in grammar than in vocabulary. This chapter surveys the traditional morphology and syntax of only one part of southern Appalachia, the mountains along the Tennessee/North Carolina border. It is based on a longer sketch in Montgomery and Hall (2004), in which each example cited here can be found, with its source identified. Most are authentic utterances from recorded interviews conducted either by Joseph S. Hall in 1939 or by personnel of Great Smoky Mountains National Park in the 1960s/70s. (For an account of selected grammatical patterns in the central Appalachian state of West Virginia, see Wolfram and Christian 1976).

2.

Verbal morphology

In Appalachian English (AppE), inflections to mark agreement and tense are usually the same in form as in general American usage, but are often found in different contexts and follow different rules.

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Concord

Verbs in the third singular conform to general usage in nearly all regards. It seems may appear as seem, with the pronoun omitted (seem like I’ve heard it), and don’t may occur in the third singular (she don’t care). Verbs ending in -st may take a syllabic suffix (parallel to nouns, as in section 9.4.). (1)

a. That water freezes on the bark and bustes [i.e. bursts] it. b. It disgustes me now to drive down through this cove.

The principal difference in subject-verb concord between AppE and general usage lies in third-person plural contexts. In these, -s may occur on verbs having any type of subject other than an adjacent personal pronoun as their subject (as people knows, some goes, etc.). Except when expressing the historical present, -s is extremely rare when the subject is they. This pattern follows a rule that can be traced to fourteenth-century Scotland and operates also for the verbs be and have. (2)

a. This comes from people who teaches biology. b. Some tells you one dog’s best. c. That’s the way cattle feeds. They feed together.

The pattern involving verbs with a non-adjacent personal-pronoun subject is found in old letters from the region, but apparently did not survive the nineteenth century: (3)

a. We have some sickness in camp of mumps and has had some of fever. (1862 letter) b. I am now Volenteard to gow to texcas against the mexicans and Expecks to start the last of September or the first of October. (1836 letter)

For uses of the suffix -s to express habitual aspect and the historical present, see sections 6.4. and 6.5. 2.2.

Principal parts

As with the agreement and plural suffixes (sections 2.1. and 10.4.), a syllabic variant of the tense suffix may be added to verbs ending in -st. (4)

It never costed me one red [cent].

AppE exhibits much variation in the principal parts of verbs. Verbs regular in general usage may be irregular in the mountains, and vice versa. More often verbs are irregular in both varieties but differ in their past-tense or past-participle forms. The list below identifies common verbs whose principal parts vary.

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Verb form(s)

Past-tense form(s)

Past-participle

ask become begin bite blow break bring buy

ask, ast, ax became, become began, begin, begun bit blew, blowed, blown broke brought, brung bought

catch

catched, caught, cotch, cotched

climb come creep dive do drag draw drink drive

clim, climbed, clome, clum came, come crept, crope div, dived, dove did, done dragged, drug drawed, drew drank, drink, drinked, drunk driv, drived, drove, druv

drown eat fall fight forget forgive

drowned, drownded ate, eat fell fit, fought forgot forgave, forgive

freeze get give go grow hear heat help hold kill know

friz, froze got gave, gin, give went grew, growed heard, heared, hearn heated, het helped, hept, holp, holped held, helt killed, kilt knew, knowed

ask, ast, ax become begin, begun bit, bitten blowed, blown broke, broken brought, brung bought, boughten, boughtened caught, catched, cotch, cotched clim, climbed, clum came, come crept, crope div, dived, dove did, done dragged, drug drawed, drawn drank, drunk driv, driven, drove, druv drowned, drownded eat, eaten fallen, fell fit, fought forgot, forgotten forgave, forgive, forgiven friz, froze, frozen got, gotten gave, gin, give, given gone, went grew, growed, grown heard, heared, hearn heated, het helped, holp, holped held, helt killed, kilt knowed, known

Appalachian English: morphology and syntax

lean learn reach ride ring rise run see set shake sing sit skin

leaned, lent learned, learnt reached, retch, retched rid, rode rang, rung riz, rose ran, run saw, see, seed, seen set, sot shook, shuck sang, sung sat, sit, sot skinned, skint, skun, skunt

speak spring strike swear swell take teach tear tell throw wear weave write

spoke sprang, sprung strook, struck swore swelled, swole taked, taken, took, tuck taught, teached tore told threw, throwed wore wove writ, wrote

3.

Be

3.1.

Present tense forms

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leaned, lent learned, learn reached, retch, retched rid, ridden, rode rang, rung risen, riz, rose ran, run saw, see, seed, seen set, sot shaken, shook, shuck sung sat, sit, sot skinned, skint, skun, skunt spoke, spoken sprung strook, struck swore, sworn swelled, swole, swolen taken, took, tuck taught, teached tore, torn tell, told threw, throwed, thrown wore, worn wove, woven writ, written, wrote

In the present tense indicative, are may occur in third-person singular contexts, usually in existential clauses: (5)

a. They are [i.e. There is] another one down the street. b. There are a big waste in it, you know.

In the third-person plural, variation between are and is follows the subject-type rule identified for other verbs (section 2.1.). (6)

a. The rocks is still there yet. b. I know a lot [of people] that has gone on and lots that is a-livin’ yet.

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With the expletive there (commonly pronounced they), is or ‘s generally occurs whether the subject of the clause is singular or plural: (7)

a. There’s lots of mountains. b. They’s about six or seven guitar players here.

3.2.

Finite be

Although frequently employed by writers of fiction set in Appalachia, finite be is obsolescent and extremely rare in the region’s speech. It does not express habitual or repeated actions, as in African-American English, and in main clauses it occurs regardless of the number and person of the subject. (8)

a. I be too old for such tomfoolery. b. Be you one of the Joneses?

More often be is found in subordinate clauses introduced by if, until, or whether, contexts that are historically subjunctive. (9)

a. If it be barn-cured tobacco, you have a different thing. b. He would ... leave [the tobacco] until it be so hard when it would come out it would never get dry and crumley. c. ... whether it be just providing materials so that you wouldn’t have to ship cargo from way off.

3.3.

Past tense forms

In traditional AppE, was and were may be used for both singular and plural, but there is today and apparently has long been in all persons and numbers a strong preference for was, which is far more frequent than were with subjects of all types. (10)

a. I stayed there from the time I were about fifteen years old. b. There weren’t even a sprig of fire in his place! The fire were plumb out. c. They wasn’t doing anything yet. d. Wherever you went, you was welcomed. e. The older people was inclined that way.

Was may be contracted to ‘s (I’s ‘I was’, they’s ‘they was’, etc.) (11)

I knowed I’s a new duck.

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Negative forms

In negative contexts, contracted forms of am, is, and are are the rule, but these vary from general usage in several ways. The verb form may contract with either the subject (he’s not) or with n’t (he isn’t; see section 9.6.). In all persons and numbers ain’t is a common alternative of am, are, or is. Especially in clause-initial position, the variant hain’t occurs. (12)

a. I ain’t gonna let ye go. b. It ain’t half as big as it used to be. c. Hain’t no use to tell you anything about my sickness, Dr. Abels. I ain’t got no money. d. They hain’t a-going to do that.

To negate a verb, don’t is occasionally added to be, especially in an imperative clause with a progressive verb form. (13)

a. Don’t be a-takin’ it down till I tell you a little. b. Don’t be wearing your good clothes out to play in.

4.

Have

4.1.

Present indicative forms

In the present tense inflected forms of have parallel those of be. Have occurs in the third singular, but apparently only in existential clauses. (14)

They’ve been a big change.

In the third-person plural, variation between have and has follows the variable subject-type rule for other verbs (section 2.1.) and for be (section 3.1.). Has is often used with plural nouns, but not with they. (15)

a. The young folks has left that place. b. They have three sisters that is a-living now, them four babies has.

4.2.

Perfective uses

Has been frequently occurs with adverbials that take the simple past-tense in general usage, especially phrases having the form ago. (16)

a. It’s been twenty year ago they offered me a house and land. b. That’s been a way back yonder.

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In AppE have and had may be separated from their past participle by a direct object. (17)

We had all our work done up and eaten a good camp supper.

4.3.

Negative forms

In negative contexts contracted forms of have and has are the rule, but the verb forms may contract with either the subject (she’s not) or -n’t (she hasn’t; see section 9.6.). In all persons and numbers ain’t is a common alternative of have in the present tense and, less often, in the past tense. Especially at the beginning of a clause, the variant hain’t may occur in a stressed position. (18)

a. I ain’t seen nothin’ of him. b. They hain’t found it yet. c. Hain’t nobody never set it for any bears since. That’s been thirty years ago.

4.4.

Deletion and addition of have

Auxiliary have and had may be elided or deleted, especially between a modal verb and a past participle. (19)

a. I guess it ∅ been five or six year ago maybe. b. You ought to ∅ seen us all a-jumping and running. c. Well, they was one on one side of the hill you might ∅ seen the other day.

Have occurs as a superfluous form after had in conditional clauses, probably by analogy with would have. (20)

Had that not have happened, there would have been somebody come in here with a lot of money.

5.

Modal and semi-modal auxiliary verbs

5.1.

Modal verbs

Except for mought, an obsolescent past-tense variant of might (They mought have done it), modal auxiliaries differ from general usage only in usage, not in form. As in other Southern varieties of American English, might and occasionally may combine with other modals to express conditional force and indirectness.

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a. b. c. d.

You might could ask somebody along the road. If you folks don’t have a cow barn, you might ought to build one. I might can go with you tomorrow. If they’d just laid down, the snakebite might wouldn’t have killed a lot of them. e. They say I could might have lived to make it to the hospital. f. I may can get it out tomorrow.

Used to may combine with modals and other auxiliaries. (22)

a. b. c. d.

The drummers would used to come from Morristown. You used to could look from Grandpa’s door to the graveyard. It came out like it used to did. The children used to would kind of stay in the background, you know.

5.2.

Semi-auxiliary verbs

In AppE several phrases occur in a fixed position before a verb and modify the principal action or statement of the verb. Some phrases may be inflected for tense, but others are more adverbial in their properties. (23)

a. belong to ‘to be obligated or accustomed to, deserve’ He belongs to come here today. b. fix to/fixing to ‘to prepare or get ready to, be about to, intend to’ (the base form is the source for the progressive, but has become recessive while the latter has gained wide currency throughout the Southern United States) I fixed to stay a week to bear hunt; I’m fixin’ to leave now; It was afixin’ to come a storm. c. like(d) to ‘almost, nearly’ (originally had liked to, a phrase followed by an infinitive form of the verb, often have). Today there is rarely evidence of a following have and often only the vestige ‘d of preceding had. The final consonant of liked is normally elided with to: I like to never in the world got away; The measles like to killed me. d. need (followed by a past-participle form) If you had a job that needed finished; That thing needs washed. e. used to ‘formerly’ (in combination with could, did, would, didn’t). See §7.1.

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6.

Miscellaneous verbal features

6.1.

Progressive forms of stative verbs of mental activity or sensation

Such forms may be employed to give a dynamic interpretation. (24)

a. Was you wantin’ to go to town? b. We was liking you just fine.

6.2.

Perfective aspect

Auxiliary did and done are often used to express completed or emphatic action in two separate patterns. First, did may occur in negative clauses with an infinitive form and with not (as in general usage), but sometimes with never (thus, I never did see ‘I have never seen, I never saw’). The emphaticness of such constructions is shown in that stress is placed on each of the words never did see (or other verb phrase elements). (25)

a. He never did say no more about it. b. I never did know what caused it. c. I never did live in a place where they was no meetin’s nor singin’s.

Auxiliary done is roughly equivalent to ‘already’, ‘completely’, or both. It most often precedes a past participle and may be accompanied by a form of have or be. Occasionally it is followed by an adjective or and. (26)

a. b. c. d. e. f.

I already done seed three. We thought Pa and Ma had done gone to church. The squirrels was done eat. The older ones was done through school and married. Uncle John Mingus was done dead. She’s done and brought her second calf.

6.3.

Ingressive verbs

In addition to constructions found in general usage, the beginning of an action or an action just begun may be expressed by several means involving verb phrases. While these are generally equivalent to ‘begin’ or ‘start’, they vary somewhat in sense, some indicating one action that is followed immediately by another. (27)

a. begin to + verbal noun: Then next day everybody begin to wondering what caused the blast to go off.

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b. come on to + infinitive: I went in the house when it come on to rain. c. commence + verbal noun: The dogs come in behind him and commenced catching him. d. commence + to + infinitive: I commenced to train a yoke of oxen. e. commence + to + verbal noun: He went back up to the tree and commenced to barking. f. fall in to + verbal noun: Mr. Huff said to me, “Wiley, fall in to eating and eat plenty, for you boys may have to stay out all night.” g. fall to + verbal noun: Everyone fell to eating the corn pone, bacon, and gravy. h. get + verbal noun: He said them men got hollering at him, and he give them a pumpkin. i. get to + verbal noun: A bear got to coming into that cornfield. j. go + verbal noun: He’d just get a little out of his bottle and just go putting that on there. k. go in to + verbal noun: [We] all went in to skinning that bear. l. go to + verbal noun: I went to studying for myself. m. let in to + verbal noun: Then he let in to fussing at me because I let her go over there to spend two weeks with Amy. n. set in to + verbal noun: Hit set in to raining about dark. o. start in + verbal noun: Brother Franklin started in telling stories. p. start in to + infinitive: I got so I started in to read it by heart. q. start in to + verbal noun: So we started in to fishing near the Chimney Tops. r. start off to + verbal noun: They started off to hunting. s. start to + verbal noun: Then we’d all start to shelling [the corn]. t. take + verbal noun: He made a dive at my brother Richard, and he took running off. u. take to + verbal noun: I took to raising hogs.

6.4.

Habitual aspect

Habitual aspect is usually not marked in the present tense. The rare exception is the suffix -s on verbs, a feature, like uninflected be, primarily found in literary dialect. (28)

a. I drinks three and four cups to a meal. b. Even if it rains, I sticks ‘em when the sign’s in the feet.

Habitual aspect is expressed in the past tense with used to or would and also through prepositional phrases (section 14.6.).

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6.5.

Historical present

In the recounting of events, especially in narrative style, verbs (especially say) are made “present” by adding -s to indicate vicarious action in the past. (29)

a. They comes back, and Scott says he was a-coming over to their house when Lester come back. b. I thinks to myself I’ll just slide down there and see if he’d make me holler. c. So she gets up and started to go around the house to look for him to tell him what she thought. d. “Father”, I says, “I’ll have to quit eating this meat”.

7.

A-prefixing

A prominent feature of AppE is the prefixing of a-, especially on present participles of verbs. Historically derived from the Old English preposition an/on, the prefix has little if any semantic content today. It sometimes highlights dramatic action. (30)

a. It just took somebody all the time a-working, a-keeping that, because it was a-boiling. b. I got out there in the creek, and I went to slipping and a-falling and a-pitching.

The prefix occurs on verbs of all semantic and most structural types, as on compound verbs and on verbs in the middle voice (i.e. active verbs whose subjects receive the action). (31)

a. People will up with their guns and go out a-rabbit hunting, a-bird hunting. b. ... while supper was a-fixin’. c. Something happened to the child when he was a-bornin’.

Less often the prefix occurs on past-tense and past-participle forms of verbs. (32)

a. I just a-wondered. b. I would get them a-gentled up, and then I put the yoke on them.

The prefix may also be used on prepositions, on nouns to form adverbs or adverbial phrases of time, place, or manner, on adverbs of position, direction, or manner, or on adjectives. (33)

a. I’ll shoot if he comes a-nigh me. b. The bear, it made a pass a-toward him.

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c. I went back down a-Sunday. d. I didn’t do it a-purpose. e. Many preachers would ride a-horseback as far as Gregory did from Cades Cove. f. He was a-just tearing that window open. g. Most of my people lived to be up in years, but I had some to die off a-young, too.

8.

The infinitive

8.1.

The for to infinitive

Especially in older AppE an infinitive may be introduced by for + to where general usage has only to. In some cases this construction expresses purpose or has an intervening noun functioning as the subject of the infinitive. (34)

a. They’d turn the sap side up, and they’d use that for to spread the fruit on. b. He’s lookin’ for to quit. c. We kept [a spot] fenced for to grow our potatoes. d. I like for people to like me, so I try to get along with everybody. e. I’d like for you to advise me if it’s too much.

8.2.

Adjective + infinitive

An apparently recent development of the infinitive is its use to express the specification or respect in which something is true. When it follows an adjective (e.g. He was bad to drink), the subject of the higher clause serves as the subject of the infinitive. Bad or awful + infinitive usually implies a speaker’s judgment that a person spoken of has an unfortunate, excessive, or unhealthy inclination or tendency. (35)

a. b. c. d. e. f.

He was awful bad to drink. (= He was a heavy drinker.) He was a bad man to drink. (= He was a heavy drinker.) [Bears] were bad to kill sheep, but not so bad to kill the hogs. He’s awful to tell stories. The Queen family was all of them good to sing. She’s an awful hand to fish. (= She loves to fish; she fishes a lot.)

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8.3.

Infinitives after have

An overt infinitive with to may follow have and its direct object, to express either causation or the occurrence or experiencing of a condition. (36)

a. b. c. d.

He had my uncle to make a road. She’d have us to stay together all the time. I had an uncle to witch people. I had a sister to die several years before I was born.

8.4.

Elliptical infinitives

Want is often followed by a preposition and has an elliptical infinitive, as want (to get, go) in, want (to be) out. (37)

a. All I wanted out of it was a little bucket of honey. b. That dog doesn’t know whether he wants in or out.

9.

Negation

9.1.

Multiple negation

The negative markers never, no, and not/n’t are frequently doubled or followed by other words of negative value such as hardly in the same clause. (38)

a. b. c. d. e. f.

They ain’t a-bitin’ to do no good. I’ve not never heared of that. I hain’t seen nothing of him. Did he not get none of it? Hit didn’t scare me nary a speck nor a spark. The snow never hardly got off the ground.

9.2.

Negative concord

AppE generally follows the rule of negative concord, whereby all indefinite elements in a clause conform in being negative. (39)

a. b. c. d. e.

We didn’t have no use for it noways. We ain’t starvin’ none. There’s an old house up here, but don’t nobody live in it, not noway. None of us wasn’t real singers nor nothin’ like that. He wouldn’t never charge nobody a dime for nothing like that.

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But there are occasional exceptions to this pattern: (40)

a. I never did go hardly any. b. I never did see Grandma do any work of any kind.

9.3.

Never

AppE uses never in two patterns differing from general usage. First, the form may negate a past-tense verb referring to a single event. Accordingly, never saw and never seen are both equivalent to ‘didn’t see’, and for single events AppE has an alternative to the general pattern of inserting did to negate a verb in the simple past tense. (41)

a. b. c. d.

We never seen it then. I never saw him while he lived. She never died then. We had a drought in here and never made nothing.

In the second pattern, never is followed by did and the infinitive of a verb. Thus, never did see is equivalent to ‘didn’t ever see’ or ‘have/had never seen’ (see section 6.2.). 9.4.

Nor

As in general usage, nor follows neither in correlative constructions, but it also occurs without neither. In these sentences nor more often than not follows not/n’t and may be seen as the negative form of or adhering to the rule of negative concord. (42)

a. I didn’t take any toll off any orphans nor widows. b. She won’t bother me, nor she won’t bother anybody else. c. Lightning nor thunder nor a good sousing nor anything else didn’t keep him from going.

9.5.

Negative inversion

A negated verb form such as ain’t, didn’t, or can’t may invert with the subject of a clause. (See also section 17.4.). (43)

a. There’s an old house up here, but don’t nobody live in it. b. Didn’t nobody up in there in Greenbrier know nothin’ about it till they run up on it. c. Ain’t nary one of ‘em married. d. Hain’t nobody never set [the trap] for any bears since.

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9.6.

Contraction with not

A modal verb, a form of auxiliary have, and especially auxiliary/copula verb be may contract with its subject (most often with a pronoun), preserving the full form of not. Thus, that’s not varies with that isn’t, etc. (44)

a. b. c. d.

Now my memory’s not as good as it used to be. We’ve not got around to cooking. I’ll not say that I’m going to buck it. I’d not care to drive a car.

10.

Noun plurals

10.1.

Plural nouns of weight and measure

Plural nouns of weight and measure may lack -s when preceded by a numeral or other quantifier. This pattern reflects the partitive genitive from older English. This occurs most often with mile, pound, and year. (45)

a. b. c. d.

There wasn’t a church to go to within twenty mile of where I lived. The bear weighed four hundred and seventy-five pound. [We] took that hide offen it and cut it into four quarter. Just after the war a few year I was married. I was married at the age of twenty-two year.

10.2.

Mass nouns

Nouns construed in general usage as mass nouns may be interpreted as plural or treated as count nouns in AppE. (46)

a. b. c. e.

These gravels are hard on your feet. We used to make molasses and sell ‘em. Have you got any easing powders? We had several rock on that trail and nothing to drill those rock with.

10.3.

Plurals for animals

Plurals for animals are noteworthy in several respects. The lack of -s on deer and other animals of the wild may be extended to other nouns. (47)

a. He hunted coon, deer, [and] bear. b. [There are] lots of wildcat here ...

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Second, -s may be added to nouns that do not take the suffix in general usage: (48)

a. They used to be plenty of deers. b. That big old bear had one of Pap’s little sheeps behind a big log, and it had eaten that little sheep. c. I caught a mess of trouts today.

Third, ox displays several tendencies. Like sheep, its plural may be regularized to form oxes. Oxen may be interpreted as either plural or singular, in the latter case producing the plural oxens. 10.4.

Syllabic plural forms

Nouns ending in -sp, -st, or -sk may preserve the longer syllabic plural form -es inherited from earlier English. (49)

a. b. c. d.

We had deskes, and I remember I’d lay down and go to sleep. The birds have built nestes in the spring house. I wonder what they aims to do with these pine postes. She taken two dostes of medicine. (dose + excrescent t + plural -es)

10.5.

Associative plurals

The phrases and all, and them (often reduced to an’ ‘em), and and those each mean ‘and the rest, and others’ and are used usually after a singular noun to include associated people (especially family members) or things. (50)

a. I carried roasting ears, sweet potatoes, Irish potatoes, tomatoes, cucumbers, cabbage, and all. b. I have a picture of my dad and them working their own road. c. Helen and those were there.

11.

Pronouns

11.1.

Personal pronouns

Personal pronouns in the nominative or objective case are for the most part the same as in general usage. The main exceptions are forms for the second-person plural (most notably you’uns) and hit for the third-person singular. AppE has five plural forms of the second-person pronoun (you, ye, you’uns, you all, and y’all) and two singular forms (you, ye). You’uns (usually pronounced as two syllables) is a contraction of you + ones. You’uns is the traditional periphrastic form that has been losing ground to you all (less often to y’all) for at least three generations.

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a. He knows you’uns and you’uns knows him. b. Well, I’ll see you all later. c. Y’all come back.

Ye (pronounced [ji] or [j
]) is a variant pronunciation of you, not a retention of the Early Modern English plural ye found in the Authorized Version of the Bible and elsewhere. It occurs as either singular or plural, usually in such unstressed contexts as a direct object, object of a preposition, or subject in inverted constructions. (52)

a. [Boneset is] bitterer than quinine, and hit’ll kill ye or cure ye one. b. I tell ye, children, both of ye. They got to quit deviling you. c. You can see the ski lodge yander, can’t ye?

In the third-person singular, hit (the historic form of the pronoun) alternates with it, occurring most often in stressed positions (usually as a subject). (53)

a. Stressed: b. Stressed: c. Unstressed: d. Unstressed:

Hit’s been handed down to him, you see, so he’s the third or fourth generation. I know positive that hit wasn’t all true. They got up with it and they treed hit. They had to raise the young one and take care of hit.

The objective case of singular personal pronouns may be employed in subject position when conjoined with another pronoun or with a noun (in the latter case the pronoun usually comes first). This pattern with plural pronouns is rare, if not non-existent. (54)

a. So me and four cousins began right then and there to lay our plans to go. b. Ever since me and her was engaged, I’ve been true to her. c. Her and Jess and the girl is all buried there on Caldwell Fork. d. Him and them dogs killed that bear. e. That mine you and Tom Graves found, how can you go to it?

11.2.

Possessive pronouns

Possessive pronouns in attributive position usually conform to general usage. However, in absolute or disjunctive position at the end of a phrase or clause, forms with -n may occur instead of forms with -s. These developed historically by analogy with mine and thine. (55)

a. b. c. d.

I thought hern was prettier than mine. My daddy hauled hisn to Asheville. [We] generally sold ourn to a man on Coopers Creek. The colts is theirn.

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e. Work them just like they was yourn. f. What did you’uns do with yournses?

11.3.

Reflexive pronouns

Reflexive pronouns in AppE differ from general usage in four ways. First, in a construction known as the personal dative, personal pronouns may occur where general usage has forms in -self/-selves or no pronoun at all. In many cases the pronouns are optional to one degree or another. (56)

a. b. c. d. e. f. g. h.

I had me some coal. Git ye chairs. (singular or plural) You can catch you a mole. You’uns can build you’uns back one. He swapped that old steer off and got him a jackass. Mary is fixing to make her some cotton dresses. We’d just come down and see if we could find us a little drink. Well, they’d get them a preacher and let him preach a while. Then they’d change and get them another.

Second, following the pattern of myself and yourself, third-person reflexive pronouns may add -self or -selves to a possessive rather than an objective form: (57)

a. He was just up there by hisself. b. They even carded the wool theirselves.

Third, plural reflexive pronouns may be formed with -self or -selfs as well as with -selves. (58)

a. b. c. d. e. f. g.

We kept that all to ourself. We went by ourselfs to the head of Forneys Creek and fished. Dang you ones. If you want them out, get in and get them yourself. Step up here, boys, and he’p you’unsself. They’d all go and enjoy themself. I like to see young people try to make something of themselfs. The county went to furnishing them theirself.

Fourth, own may be added to form an emphatic reflexive, which is always based on the possessive rather than the objective form. (59)

a. b. c. d.

Now that was an experience I experienced my own self. He has a little kit to give his own self a shot. Everybody took care of their own self. People doctored their own selfs.

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11.4.

Demonstrative pronouns and adjectives

As in many other varieties of English, them occurs as a demonstrative pronoun and adjective as well as a personal pronoun. This and that and their plural forms may take here or there to form compounds. (60)

Demonstrative pronouns: a. Them looks a whole lot steeper and taller than they did in my young days. b. This here is George Thomas Baxter. c. These here was on the inside there. d. That there’s Tom’s boy, I guess.

(61)

Demonstrative adjectives: a. I’ve went up over them rocks a many a time. b. All this here poplar went to England across the water. c. He had one of these here hog rifles. d. That there sawmill I worked at was there before I married. e. Them there fellows come through here, stealing horses and things.

Also the distinction between proximate, intermediate, and distant is maintained (this vs. that vs. yon). Yon/yan and yonder/yander most often function as adverbs, but may be demonstrative adjectives as well. (62)

a. Middlesboro is on yan side of Cumberland Gap. b. [Y]ou cross the big bridge goin’ in yander way right there.

11.5.

Indefinite pronouns

Notable usages of indefinite pronouns include ary/ary’un, nary/nary’un (see section 12.4.) and a body ‘one, someone’. (63)

a. Could a body buy that there dog? b. About a bushel [is] maybe what a body could pretty well carry.

11.6.

Interrogative forms

To introduce a direct or indirect question, AppE has a set of interrogative forms that invert ever and the wh- element (see also section 15.1.). (64)

a. You’d aim at everwhat you’re shooting at. b. Everwhich one come nigh always come down to the house and stayed full half the night. c. Everwho’s higher in seniority gets to keep his job.

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Interrogative pronouns may be combined with all to stress the inclusiveness and generality of a statement or question. Thus, who all is equivalent to both ‘all of whom?’ and ‘who in general?’ (65)

a. I don’t know where all he sold it at. b. I don’t know what all we didn’t do. c. Who all was there?

11.7.

Personal pronouns + all

As suggested in section 10.1., all may combine with personal pronouns to emphasize inclusiveness: theirs all, they all, you all, your all, you’un(s) all, etc. In all of these the stress falls on the first element, not the second, making these constructions compounds rather than phrases. You all is the only combination to have acquired substantial properties of a personal pronoun. (66)

a. b. c. d. e.

Cades Cove nearly took theirs all to Gregory Bald. Old man Lon and Will all, they all went with him. You-all may be [needing] it one of these days. Is this table your all’s? You’uns all come to see me.

11.8.

Unstressed ’un

One is frequently contracted and reduced to ‘un (occasionally ‘n) when it is unstressed and follows a pronoun (cf. you’uns, section 10.1.) or an adjective. (67)

a. b. c. d. e. f. g.

We’uns come from educated folkses. You’uns is talking about rough country. We’ll try another’n, being that’un paid off. The gooder’ns’s all gone now! I don’t recollect any of his young’uns. They was all sizes from little’uns to big’uns. If he killed ary’un, it was before my recollection.

(See section 17.2. for one following or in coordinate constructions.) 11.9.

Relative clauses

AppE uses nine forms to introduce restrictive relative clauses: that, who, ∅, ‘at, which, as, what, whose, and thats (of these, that is the most common; what and thats, a possessive, are the least). Four forms introduce non-restrictive clauses: which, who, that and whose (whom is rare, if not non-existent, in colloquial speech).

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(68)

a. b. c. d. e. f. g. h. i.

12.

Articles and adjectives (for demonstrative adjectives, see section 10.4.)

12.1.

The indefinite article

I know the man that was lost. This is Steve Cole, that lives in the Sugarlands near Gatlinburg. And we had some old trained bear hounds ‘at turned off in the roughs. I came on a party ∅ had been fighting a bear. They was two wagon loads ∅ went out from there. Then he handed it down to Caleb, which was Eph’s Pa. Tom Sparks has herded more than any man as I’ve ever heard of. I knowed the White Caps what done the murder. We need to remember a woman thats child has died.

The indefinite article a [] rather than an may occur before words beginning with a vowel sound. (69)

a. I had a uncle and a aunt that moved out there. b. She done our baking in a oven.

12.2.

The definite article

The definite article is employed in place names (the Smoky = the main ridge of the Smoky Mountains), in the phrase in the bed, to indicate possession (the old lady ‘my wife’, the woman ‘my wife’), with an indefinite pronoun (the both of them), and with names of diseases and medical conditions (the fever ‘typhoid’, the sugar ‘diabetes’, etc.) 12.3.

The + other

The definite article is occasionally reduced to t’ before other(s). With the function of t’ as an article having been lost, t’other may be modified by the. (70)

a. One or t’other of them whupped the other one. b. When one’s gone the t’other’s proud of it.

12.4.

Indefinite adjectives

Ary ‘any’ (derived originally from e’er a) and nary ‘not any, none’ (from ne’er a) may occur in negative, interrogative, or conditional clauses. They may take en-clit-

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ic ’un (< one) to form the indefinite pronouns ary’un [ær
n, æ‘n] and nary’un [nær
n, næ‘n]. (See also section 10.5.) (71)

a. b. c. d.

We didn’t kill ary deer then. We never seed nary another wolf. If he killed ary’un, it was before my recollection. I never seed a deer nor saw nary’un’s tracks.

12.5.

Comparative forms

The comparative form of adjectives may differ from general usage. (72)

a. Nothin’ [is] gooder than crumbled cornbread and milk. b. You’re nearder to the door than I am.

Double comparatives are characteristic of AppE: (73)

a. I’d say I was more healthier back then than I am now. b. I was getting closer and more closer with every step I took. c. I think there are worser things than being poor.

12.6.

Double superlative forms

Double superlative forms also occur. (74)

a. Newport, though, is one of the most liveliest towns that I know of. b. Doc was the most wealthiest man [in] this part of the country.

The suffix -est may sometimes be added redundantly, including on adjectives that are historically superlative or absolute. (75)

a. She could make the bestest [sweetbread] in all the country, we thought. b. Who got there firstest? c. Who growed the mostest corn?

12.7.

Present participle + -est

Present participles used as attributive adjectives may take the suffix -est. (76)

a. Daddy said he was the gamest and fightingest little rascal he ever hunted. b. He had told somebody she was the workingest girl in the country. c. She’s the aggravatin’est calf I’ve ever had. d. He was the singingest man this side of Turnpike.

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12.8.

Anomalous comparatives and superlatives

In AppE a form of big together with a noun it modifies is equivalent to most. Big may appear in its positive, comparative, or superlative form and modify any of several nouns, but the meaning of the construction remains ‘the most’. (77)

a. b. c. d. e. f. g. h.

A big majority of the people went to church pretty regular. My father did the big part of the farming. They done the bigger majority of their logging on Laurel Creek. He rode a horse the bigger part of the time. The biggest half of the people does it. The biggest majority down there, they care. The biggest part of them was Democrats. [The] biggest portion of people didn’t have lumber.

Other unusual superlative forms include onliest ‘only’ and upperest ‘situated on the highest ground, farthest up’ (from upper ‘on high ground’). (78)

a. She treated it as if it was the onliest one she had. b. Turkey George Palmer was in the upperest house on Indian Creek.

12.9.

All the + noun phrase

In AppE the adjective phrase all the ‘the only’ may modify singular count nouns or the indefinite pronoun one (i.e. not only mass nouns, as in general usage). (79)

a. I reckon that’s all the name she had. b. That’s all the one they got here.

12.10. All the + adjective All the may also modify the positive, comparative, or superlative form of an adjective to express extent. (80)

a. That’s all the far/farther/farthest I want to go. (= as far as) b. Is that all the best you can do? (= as good as)

13.

Adverbials

13.1.

Adverbials +-s

The suffix -s may be added to some adverbs of place and time. (81)

a. I can rest easier in the woods than anywheres else.

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b. We learned we had to call him a long time beforehands. c. They keep all over that mountain everywheres up there. d. There’s a gold mine in here somewheres.

13.2.

Adverbs without -ly

Adverbs (principally ones of manner) without the suffix -ly are common. (82)

a. b. c. d. e. f. g.

a awful ill teacher (= a very ill-tempered teacher) I think it was a lady, if I’m not bad fooled. There’s not near so many as [there] were at the time we came here. I began stone-cutting at a powerful early age. They don’t like it real genuine. (i.e. very much) Some of that country is terrible rough. My family done tolerable well.

By the same token, good is a variant of well in adverbial contexts: (83)

a. He knows [the song] good. b. She could pull a crosscut [saw] as good as a boy.

13.3.

Intensifying adverbs

AppE has many intensifying adverbs to express ‘very’ or ‘quite’. (84)

a. b. c. d. e. f.

That water isn’t bad cold. Newport’s a mighty fine place for a young man to go. They said he never was much stout after that. I used to trap for ‘em [but] never got so powerful many. He was right young. He was just a boy. It’s a terrible bad place.

It also has many ways to express ‘all the way’ or ‘completely’. (85)

a. b. c. d. e. f. g. h.

The bullet went clean through his leg. My cattle run clear to Silers Bald. Uncle John Mingus was done dead. They was plumb sour, and they would keep plumb on till spring. They owned all this, plumb up to the gap. I’ll be covered slam up. We worked till slap dark. He was smack drunk.

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13.4.

Locative adverbs

AppE has many constructions not found in general usage to indicate position, distance, or direction. These are usually adverbs, but some may function also as adjectives to modify nouns. (86)

a. thataway ‘that way’ When you’re coming down thataway, they ain’t many places to stop. b. thisaway ‘this way’ I’ll go around down thisaway below him, and you go down in on him. c. yon/yan (the second form is more common) ‘over there’ I says, “Yon’s the White Caps now”; She’s in the field, up yan, gittin’ roughness. d. yonder/yander (the second form is more common) ‘over there’ They was some trees that stood all up here and yonder about in the orchard; I sneaked up in here with a horse from down yander where I showed you mine.

13.5.

Other adverbs

Adverbs differing from general usage English include the following: (87)

a. afore ‘before’ I done what you told me afore, and it holp me some. b. along (followed by a preposition) ‘approximately, somewhere, sometime’ Along about Friday we’d have spelling bees. c. along ‘continuously, regularly’ We’d kill game along all the time. d. altogether ‘entirely, exclusively’ They worked chestnut altogether. e. anymore ‘nowadays, at present’ (in positive sentences) Anymore they have a hard time protecting things like that. f. anyways ‘to any degree or extent, at all’ If you was anyways near to a bear, he would charge you.

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g. anyways ‘in any case, at any rate’ Sometimes you would get more and sometimes less, but anyways from ten to fifteen dollars. h. around (followed by a prepositional phrase) ‘approximately, more or less’ The old garden was right around up through there. i. edgeways ‘edgewise’ Let’s leave time for people to get a word in edgeways. (similarly, lengthways ‘lengthwise’) j. everly ‘always’ He was everly going down to the store. k. noways ‘in any way, at all’ We didn’t have no use for it noways. l. right ‘immediately, exactly’ You find that right today. m. sometime ‘sometimes, from time to time’ He’d throw that stick sometime. n. someway ‘somehow, in some manner’ The sled got away from him and hurt him someway. o. used to ‘formerly’ (placed before the subject of a sentence, in clauses having a past-tense verb) Used to, you know, there wasn’t very much working on Sundays.

13.6.

Miscellaneous adverbial features

In Appalachia ago often occurs with a present-perfect verb rather than one in the simple past (see section 3.2.). Yet retains its usage from older English in affirmative clauses (rather than only in negative and interrogative contexts, as in modern English generally). Yet is semantically equivalent to, but may co-occur with, still, in which case still comes first. (88)

a. I believe that old good book will do to live by yet. b. The rocks is still there yet.

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13.7.

Adverb placement

The qualifying adverbs about, much, and nearly may come after the construction they modify. (89)

a. We had all kinds of apples anywhere you went about. (i.e. almost anywhere) b. Well, they were all kinfolks just about, you see. (i.e. nearly all) c. You been sleepin’ all day near about, and you done broke a sweat, and that’s good for you. d. The weather never got any colder up there much than it did here. e. I’m always at home nearly.

14.

Prepositions and particles

The dialectal character of Appalachian English is conspicuously evident in the use of prepositions. 14.1.

Verbs of mental activity/sensation + of

Older AppE uses of after smell, feel, taste, or other verbs of mental activity or sensation, but the preposition has little if any semantic content. (90)

a. b. c. d.

I can recollect of him a-going to school. We didn’t pay much attention to the fourth of July, as I remember of. Smell of it He said he tasted of everything he had ever killed, every varment, even a buzzard. e. Feel of it now.

14.2.

Prepositions differing from general usage

(91)

a. abouten ‘about’ I never knowed a thing abouten it. b. afore ‘before’ I allowed he’d return afore this. c. afteren ‘after’ He never give me his check before, just what was left over after’en he had been out with the boys.

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d. against/again ‘by the time of, before’ He’ll be in town against nine o’clock; He didn’t make it back again the night. e. anent ‘close to, beside’ I fell back into the river and just took up right up in the water and was wet all over and got up anent them. f. being of ‘because of’ Bein’ of that, Mr. Hood, I just can’t take anything from you for the death of Bill. g. beside of ‘beside’ Let me put the bag down beside of you. h. enduring ‘during, through’ Did he stay enduring the night? i. excepting ‘except’ Faultin’ others don’t git you nowhere, exceptin’ in trouble. j. for ‘because of, on account of’ I couldn’t see across that log for the fog. k. fornent ‘opposite, beside’ He lived over fornent the store. l. offen ‘off, off of’ [We] took that hide offen it. m. on (to express an unfortunate or uncontrollable occurrence) My cow up and died on me. n. on ‘of, about’ He was never heard on no more. o. outen ‘out of’ He frailed the hell outen him. p. owing to ‘according to, depending on’ It’s owing to who you’re talking to.

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q. till ‘to’ (in expressions of time) ... quarter till five. r. to ‘at’ I belong to home with your Ma. s. to ‘for’ That bear was small to his age. t. to ‘of’ They were men to the community. u. withouten ‘without’ I seed him throw a steer once and tie him up withouten any help.

14.3.

Particles extending or intensifying verbal action

A verbal particle may serve less as an intrinsic element of a phrasal verb than it does to intensify or give durative value to the basic action of the verb. The forms which appear most frequently in such contexts are up (as in general usage), in, on, out, and down. (92)

a. b. c. d. e.

in: We dressed the bear and carried him in home. on: [The bear] ran on off up the hill. up: The storm scared us up. out: Study it out [i.e. think it over] while you are bringing in the water. down: I shot the bear in the mouth and killed him down.

14.4.

Combination of forms

A remarkable characteristic of AppE is the combination of two or more locative prepositions to modify the action of the verb. (93)

a. I went right down in on him and give him another shot. b. They was several houses on up around up on Mill Creek and up in there and on up next to Fork of the River back up in there. c. The dogs was a-fighting the bear right in under the top of Smoky, pretty close up to the top. d. It was just down where that road comes around, on down in below where that road comes around.

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e. He turned them loose [and] down through the sugar orchard they went out up across over on Enloe, back around to the big branch, out across the head of hit over on Three Fork. f. The old tom cat went up in under the chair.

14.5.

Omission of prepositions

Prepositions are occasionally omitted. (94)

a. Back (in) old times. b. She lives over (at) what they call Corn Pone, Cascades.

14.6.

Prepositional phrases for habitual activity

Temporal prepositional phrases with of (especially with a singular indefinite noun as the object) indicate frequent or habitual activity, in one of three patterns equivalent to ‘every’. (95)

a. of a + singular noun: We would have singing of a night and of a Sunday; We would gather our apples in of a day and peel our apples of a night and put them out on a scaffold. b. of the + singular noun: They don’t have no one to rely on of the night. c. of + plural noun: My grandfather was troubled of nights in his sleep with what was called nightmares.

15.

Conjunctions

15.1.

Subordinating conjunctions

Many subordinating conjunctions either do not occur in general usage or occur with different functions there (see also section 11.6.). (96)

a. afore ‘before’ It rained afore we had a chance to plow. b. again/against ‘by the time that, before’ We’d oughta do plenty of fishin’ against the season closes; I was repairin’ the tire again you came. c. as ‘than’ I’d rather work as go to school.

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d. as ‘that’ I don’t know as I’ve been any benefit to the park service. e. as how ‘that, whether’ I don’t know as how I can finish it today. f. being, being as, being that ‘because, seeing that’ We’ll try another’n, being that’un paid off; Being as you weren’t at the meeting, you don’t get to vote; Being that the president was sick, the vice-president adjourned the meeting. g. evern ‘whenever, if ever’ Evern you do that, you’ll come home and find a cold supper. h. everwhen ‘when’ Everwhen we got there, Jack reached for his gun. i. everwhere ‘wherever’ They just squatted down everwhere they were. j. how come (see section 17.1.) k. how soon ‘that ... soon’ I hope how soon he comes. l. iffen ‘if’ Come into the fire iffen you-ones wants to. m. lessen ‘unless’ I won’t go lessen you go. n. like that ‘like, that’ I felt like that we needed the power. o. nor ‘than’ [It’s] no bigger round nor your arm. p. that (redundant after other forms in because that, how that, etc.; see section 15.4). q. till ‘so that, with the result that, to the point that’ He liked [coffee] so strong till you could slice it; My mama had rheumatiz, and she got till she couldn’t walk.

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r. to where ‘to the extent that, to the point that’ The coons was hung up to where they froze up and was alright; He got to where he was inactive. s. until ‘so that, with the result that’ I’ve done this until they could take and interpret the pictures. t. whenever ‘of a single event: when’ I was just eight whenever she died. u. whenever ‘as soon as, at the earliest point that’ Whenever you get to Caldwell Fork, it’s just across the mountain to Hemphill. v. whenever ‘of a process or extended period: throughout the time that, during the time that’ My mother, whenever she was living, she just told you one time. w. whenevern ‘of a periodic or intermittent event: when’ There were three in the saw crew whenevern you cut trees. x. whenevern ‘of a one-time event: as soon as’ Whenevern I seen what it was, why I went back to the shack. y. without ‘unless’ They didn’t fish without it was just right. z. withouten ‘unless’ I won’t go withouten you do.

15.2.

Verbless absolute clauses

AppE has verbless absolute clauses introduced by and and interpreted as subordinate to the previous clause. The construction functions as though it has an elliptical form of be. (97)

a. They all wore Mother Hubbard dresses, and them loose. b. That woman is doin’ too much work, and her in a family way. c. He would steal the hat off your head and you a-lookin’ at him.

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15.3.

Ellipsis

Ellipsis of the conjunction may occur when introducing the complement of a verb after want. (98)

a. Child, I want ∅ ye should think about it all yer days! b. They want ∅ you should use the hickory on some of them rough boys.

15.4.

Redundant that

A redundant that may be used after where, what, and similar conjunctions: (99)

a. Not just because that I’m born and raised here, but I’m just telling ye what other people tells me. b. Tell us how that you would find and get the sheep in. c. I don’t remember exactly when that they started building in White Pine. d. He brought him out, down to where that they could get him in a car. e. Maybe you can explain then why that it does do that.

16.

Existential clauses

Existential clauses display variation from general usage in three principal respects. First, they are usually introduced by there, its related form they, or more rarely it. (100) a. They is something bad wrong with her. b. I believe they is a cemetery there too, ain’t there? c. If you’d have seen what I made it with, it would be a lot of people would faint. d. There was one bedroom upstairs, wasn’t it? Second, is (usually contracted to ‘s) and was (sometimes contracted to ‘s) are the typical verb forms with both singular and plural subjects. Are appears occasionally with singular subjects. (101) a. They is not so many there now. b. They’s all sizes from little’uns to big’uns. c. They are another one down the street. Third, the relative pronoun following the subject is often omitted, regardless of its function. (102) a. They is six trees ∅ would have made anybody a good dwelling house. b. They is people ∅ gets lost in these Smoky Mountains.

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Miscellaneous patterns

17.1.

Yes/no questions

279

Indirect yes/no questions may take the word order of direct questions, with inversion of the subject and auxiliary verb and with the tense conforming to that of the main clause. Indirect wh-questions usually pattern as in general usage, except when how come introduces a clause and precedes a noun or personal pronoun in the objective case. (103) a. b. c. d. e. f.

17.2.

He asked me did I want to work this morning. Somebody asked me was that Jim Ike’s truck. We finally asked would they help us. I studied what was the matter. That’s how come it to be called the Devil’s Courthouse. That’s how come us to leave there, you know.

One

To specify alternatives, AppE often employs one (probably derived from one or the other) after conjoined forms or types of phrases, most often nouns. (104) a. He was in Tennessee or Kentucky one. b. I’m going home [and] see Emerts Cove or hell one before daylight. c. They had [revival] meeting morning and evening or morning and night one all the time. d. That hearing aid, it’s either too high or too low one. e. The first settlers come in here in the eighteen thirties or the forties one. f. They’d set down and climb a tree or pick a fight one.

17.3.

Left dislocation

Often a noun or noun phrase is moved from its usual position to the beginning (or left-most position) of a clause, to be replaced by a simple personal pronoun in the original context. (105) a. The [hunters] that went the other way into the mountain, they’d killed them turkeys. b. The bear, it made a pass a-toward him.

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17.4.

Interposed pronouns

An indefinite pronoun or pronoun phrase co-referential with the subject of a clause may appear in the verb phrase. (106) a. b. c. d.

The Queen family was all of them good to sing. We don’t any of us need anything. They can every one sing. We don’t nobody know how long we have.

The interposed pronoun phrase may appear in an existential sentence, a pattern that may be the basis of clauses with negative inversion (section 9.5.). (107) a. They didn’t none of us ever get snakebit, but their work animal did. b. There’d somebody come around with a truck once in a while.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. McMillan, James B. and Michael Montgomery (eds.) 1988 Annotated Bibliography of Southern American English. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. Montgomery, Michael 1998 In the Appalachians they speak like Shakespeare. In: Laurie Bauer and Peter Trudgill (eds.), Myths in Linguistics, 66–76. New York: Penguin. 2000 The idea of Appalachian isolation. Appalachian Heritage 28: 20–31. 2004 English in Appalachia. In: Tyler Blethen and Richard Straw (eds.), High Mountains Rising, 147–164. Champaign: University of Illinois Press. Montgomery, Michael and Joseph S. Hall (eds.) 2004 Dictionary of Smoky Mountain English. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press. Schneider, Edgar W. 1994 Appalachian mountain vocabulary: Its character, sources, and distinctiveness. In: Wolfgang Viereck (ed.), Verhandlungen des Internationalen Dialektologenkongresses Bamberg 1990 Volume 3, 498–512. Stuttgart: Steiner. Wolfram, Walt 1977 On the linguistic study of Appalachian speech. Appalachian Journal 5: 92– 102.

Rural and ethnic varieties in the Southeast: morphology and syntax* Walt Wolfram

1.

Introduction

Notwithstanding the popular stereotype of the American South as a uniform region, the Southeastern US represents one of the most diverse dialect areas in the Unites States. It is an area of robust dialect diversity, including a full range of areal, social, and ethnic variation. At least three major dialect boundaries cut across the Southeastern states of Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia, including a seaboard region to the east, a highland region to the west, and an intermediate Coastal Plain and Piedmont region. Within the context of dialect diversity in the South is a set of enclave dialect communities, that is, communities that have been set apart from mainstream populations and, in some cases, from the major dialect boundaries set forth in dialect surveys such as Kurath (1949), Carver (1987), and Labov, Ash, and Boberg (fc.). Admittedly, the notions of “enclave community” and “historical isolation” are difficult to define in a precise, objective manner (Wolfram and Thomas 2002), although these constructs generally involve geographical and/or social remoteness, historical continuity, and communicative disconnection from more widespread populations. Perhaps more important than objectifiable criteria, however, is the fact that these communities usually have a strong sense of local, oppositional identity vis-à-vis other groups. There are several reasons why enclave dialect communities are significant for the description of language variation in the South. Such communities provide a critical basis for reconstructing the history of vernacular dialects in the US, based on the assumption that enclave dialects will be conservative in language change and that they will be relatively immune to some language changes diffusing throughout the wider population. Enclave communities have, in fact, played an important role in reconstructing the earlier status of prominent social and ethnic varieties such as African American English (Poplack 2000, Poplack and Tagliamonte 2001; Wolfram and Thomas 2002; Mallinson and Wolfram 2002) and Appalachian English (Montgomery 1989; Montgomery and Hall 2004). Another reason is the rapid transformation of some historically isolated dialect communities. Abrupt changes in demographic and socioeconomic conditions during the last half of the twentieth century have threatened these once-insular dialect communities, resulting in rapid dialect dissipation and, in a couple of cases, dialect intensification (Schilling-Estes 1997; Wolfram and Schilling-Estes 2003).

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The dynamics of dialect change under these circumstances, including the death of some traditional dialects, is of considerable interest to researchers of language variation and change. Finally, the rapid erosion of some of these remote dialect communities has resulted in a sense of urgency to document them before they are lost or drastically restructured. Given the moribund state of many enclave dialects, it seems incumbent on dialectologists and linguists to document the descriptive status of these varieties.

2.

The construction of enclave dialect communities

Like other varieties, enclave dialects in the Southeastern US are a product of founder dialects (Mufwene 2001), language contact, language diffusion, and independent language development. Accordingly, these varieties reveal similar and dissimilar traits with other enclave communities as well as with many other adjacent and non-adjacent dialects. Enclave dialects are typified by a set of structures that are shared not only with each other but also with a relatively wide range of rural dialects in the US. Given the distribution of forms in diverse, rural areas throughout the US and their attestation in earlier varieties of English brought to colonial America, we assume that these communities simply have been conservative in their language change. For example, the use of a-prefixing, widely distributed in the earlier English of the British Isles and in the US, is amply documented in enclave communities in the Southeastern US and elsewhere in the rural American South (Pederson 1986–1992), but it is also found in rural contexts in New England (Kurath 1939–1943) and in the Midwestern US. (Allen 1973–1977). A second type of distribution pattern can be traced to regional dialects of the British Isles. In earlier American English, these patterns might have shown regional distribution as well, as settlers from particular regions of England tended to cluster in particular geographical regions in America. For example, the concord pattern attaching -s to verbs with plural noun phrase subjects (e.g. The dogs barks) has been attributed to varieties in Northern England and to the dialect of the Ulster Scots immigrants who were a dominant population in the highland areas of Appalachia (Montgomery 1989). In fact, the marking of -s on verbs with 3rd plural subjects has now become known as the “Northern Concord Subject Rule”, in recognition of its historical regionalization in England (see the chapters by Beal and Filppula, this volume). The assumed origin of such features in the regional dialects of the British Isles, however, raises important questions about their occurrence in enclave dialects of the Southeastern US. Ulster Scots immigrants and speakers from Northern England were certainly part of the overall mix of English-speaking settlers in the Southeast, but they were much more concentrated in some areas – in particular, the Appalachian mountain range – than they were in others, such as the Southeastern coastal

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area. Nonetheless, we find traits associated with this assumed regional British dialect founder effect well beyond the original area of settlement. It is possible that the effects of some earlier varieties of English in colonial America diffused to other areas from their original locus, and may even have become part of an earlier American English koiné in the Southeast. If this was the case, then the dialect features might have persisted in enclave varieties that have had no significant contact with each other for a couple of centuries. In the enclave dialects we survey here, we also find a few structures that are not documented in other regional varieties of American English. In most US varieties, past be is usually regularized to was, as in We was home or You wasn’t there (Wolfram and Fasold 1974; Wolfram and Schilling-Estes 1998); however, in some enclave communities, we find a pattern in which past be is leveled to was in positive sentences (e.g. We was there) but to weren’t in negative ones (e.g. I weren’t home). Within our sample, the was/weren’t pattern is robust among groups as geographically and culturally disparate as the European Americans of Smith Island and Tangier Island in the Chesapeake Bay (Schilling-Estes 1997; Shores 2000) and the Lumbee Indians of the Coastal Plain of North Carolina (Wolfram and Sellers 1999). At the same time, there is no documentation of this pattern in other current rural dialects in the Southeast. Although we can only speculate, it does not seem likely that regularization to weren’t is due to a simple, direct founder effect from the British Isles (where it is very much alive, see Anderwald 2002). The feature was present in some of the varieties brought to regions of the Eastern Seaboard of America, including those varieties that originally came from Southwest England (Orton et al. 1962– 1971). From that point, it probably developed into a regional feature of the coastal Delmarva dialect region (Shores 2000; Wolfram and Thomas 2002). As people from the Delmarva region moved to various coastal sites, including islands in the Chesapeake Bay and the Outer Banks, the pattern was apparently diffused along the Mid-Atlantic and Southern coasts. In this case, the earlier development of a regional variety of American English spread to other areas that then became isolated. Like other varieties, the dialects of enclave communities also change from within. While dialectologists and historical linguists certainly acknowledge the potential for internal linguistic change in peripheral dialect areas, the role of innovation tends to be overlooked in most descriptions of enclave dialect communities. Instead, there seems to be an assumption that dialect forms in historically isolated varieties will be quite conservative with respect to innovation and that relic forms will remain relatively intact in their linguistic composition. Andersen (1988), however, argues that what we conveniently refer to here as the relic assumption has led researchers to slight system-internal innovations in favor of hypothetical contact situations that lead to diffusion-based explanations. Andersen (1988: 54) notes: “[…] there are internally motivated innovations which arise independently of any

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external stimulus. These too have an areal dimension and may appear to spread merely because they arise in different places at different times.” This claim certainly counters the relic assumption that remnant dialect communities will necessarily be conservative in their patterns of change and rarely favor innovation. Our investigation of dialect enclave communities in the coastal US supports the contention that language change can indeed take place fairly rapidly in enclave dialect areas and that dialect intensification – that is, the accelerated development of dialect distinctiveness – can take place through internally based language change, even when a variety is in a moribund state (Schilling-Estes and Wolfram 1999). Wolfram and Schilling-Estes (2003), for example, show that the remorphologization of past tense be is an accelerating change taking place currently in at least several unrelated enclave dialects on the mid-Atlantic coast ranging from the islands in the Chesapeake Bay to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. The rapid rate of change within a relatively compressed time period suggests that we cannot simply assume that dialect change is necessarily slow or fast, or that it takes a unilateral path. Rather, there may be periods of rapidity of change as well as conservatism over the course of centuries of isolation. Even when enclave dialects share a common core of structures vis-à-vis dialects of the wider population, particular communities may indicate selectivity in their retention and development of dialect forms. For example, perfective be in sentences such as I’m been there before was once a fairly common dialect trait across a broad range of earlier dialects of English, including most of the communities considered here. We know that perfective have was a later development in the English language, and that there was widespread fluctuation with perfective be well into the seventeenth century. But in one of the enclave communities considered here, we find that the use of perfective be is still a robust, productive form, even among younger speakers (Dannenberg 2003). Furthermore, the structure has undergone some independent structural and semantic development that now distinguishes it from other varieties where it is still productive. Though the perfective use of be might qualify as a “relic” form given the traditional definition of this notion, it must be understood that such items are hardly static structurally or functionally. Indeed, these forms may undergo independent development within a particular community that sets the community dialect apart from other enclave dialects in subtle but important ways. If we assume that the label “relic” refers to earlier forms selectively preserved intact, then there would be very few forms that qualify; if, on the other hand, we admit that these forms are subject to change just like non-relic features, then we are hard put to show how change in relic forms differs from other types of language change, apart from the fact that relic forms involve changes in items that have receded in more widely distributed, socially dominant varieties of the language. Finally, change may also involve parallel independent development, or “drift” among unrelated dialect communities due to the operation of the general processes

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of analogy and universal tendencies to move toward unmarked forms. All of the varieties examined here, for example, show the regularization of irregular plurals (e.g. two sheeps), the regularization of past tense forms (e.g. They growed up), and negative concord (e.g. They didn’t do nothing). These general traits are shared not only by these enclave communities but also by a host of other vernacular communities of English that include but are not restricted to American English. The developments are simply part of the natural processes that guide changes quite independently of diffusion or language contact, or, as Chambers (1995: 242) puts it “primitives of vernacular dialects in that they recur ubiquitously all over the world.” More than anything, analogical pressures to regularize and generalize linguistic rules distinguish socially subordinate enclave communities from the prescribed standard English norm which is, according to Chambers (1995: 246), “more strictly tightly constrained in its grammar and phonology” due to the social pressures to resist some natural changes. These system-internal processes must be factored into the description and explanation of these varieties as they configure and reconfigure themselves over time in ways that are both uniform and diverse. Notwithstanding romantic notions about enclave dialect communities existing in splendid isolation apart from all contact with outside dialect communities, we must also consider the role of language contact in the development and maintenance of enclave dialects. Regardless of the situation, there is some inevitable interaction and communication with other groups. The communities represented here are no different in this regard, and each of them has had contact with other groups in their past, as well as varying types of contact more recently. Thus, structural traits may be transferred from other language varieties. However, linguistic accommodation is not necessarily a matter of categorical structural acceptance or rejection. In fact, it is possible that interdialectal forms may arise – that is, “forms that actually originally occurred in neither dialect” (Trudgill 1986: 62). In our discussion of the grammatical attachment of third person plural -s in one of the communities considered here, Hyde County, we find that the use of -s attachment by African American cohorts reflects but does not precisely replicate its use by European Americans, showing a type of overgeneralization characteristic of language contact situations. Donor dialects thus worked in tandem with language contact strategies in the configuration of the earlier African American speech in this isolated, bi-ethnic context. Both intra-community and inter-community contact must be recognized, not only in the formative stages of such dialects, but also as varieties reconfigure themselves over time and as they emerge from insularity. The contact dynamics of different enclave communities must be taken into account along with founder effects, diffusion, and independent development in understanding the structuring and restructuring of enclave dialect communities.

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3.

The grammar of enclave dialects

In this section I describe some of the morphological and syntactic traits of a representative set of enclave dialect communities. The description is based on several types of communities. First, we include island communities on the Outer Banks of North Carolina (Wolfram and Schilling-Estes 1997; Wolfram, Hazen, and Schilling-Estes 1999) and the Chesapeake Bay area of Maryland and Virginia (SchillingEstes 1997; Schilling-Estes and Wolfram 1999; Shores 2000). These mono-ethnic, European American communities represent one of the paradigm types of the Southeastern enclave community. These are complemented by the examination of a couple of bi-ethnic enclave communities, including a longstanding African American and European American community on the coast of North Carolina (Wolfram and Thomas 2002), Hyde County, and a receding bi-ethnic community in the Appalachian mountains of North Carolina, Beech Bottom (Mallinson and Wolfram 2002). Finally, we include the case of a tri-ethnic situation involving the Lumbee Native American Indians (Wolfram and Dannenberg 1999; Dannenberg 2003). The Lumbee, who lost their ancestral language generations ago, have carved out a unique sociocultural variety that symbolizes their unique status as neither white nor black. The location of these communities is given in the map in figure 1.

Smith Is. Tangier Is.

Ban

ks

Southern Appalachia

Hyde Co.

er

Ocracoke

O

ut

Beech Bottom

y ok Sm ts. M

Figure 1.

Robeson Co.

Rural and ethnic sites of the Southeast United States

In describing the structural characteristics of these enclave situations, I attempt to highlight the ways in which they are similar to and different from each other, as well as from other rural Southern varieties. The description is organized on the basis of major grammatical categories.

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3.1.

287

Verb phrase

Some of the most distinguishing traits of enclave dialect situations involve the verb phrase, including a set of specialized auxiliaries, irregular verbs, and subjectverb agreement patterns. Many of these features unify these varieties with other Southern American vernacular dialects but there are also a couple of cases that seem to be confined to enclave dialect communities. 3.1.1. Finite be The use of be as a finite form in sentences like That’s how it bes has been attested in selected regions of the South, although its productive use among European Americans tends to be quite regionally restricted (Montgomery and Mishoe 1999). It may occur with a habitual meaning (e.g. They usually be there), as it currently does in contemporary African American Vernacular English (AAVE), but it is clearly not restricted to this aspectual reference in enclave dialect communities. It is rare in the enclave communities that we have examined here, excepting Lumbee English in Southeastern North Carolina, where it has become a dialect icon associated with their distinct sociocultural variety. It should be noted, however, that the Lumbee live in a county adjacent to one of the few regions in the United States where finite be(s) characterizes the European-American population, Horry County, South Carolina (Montgomery and Mishoe 1999). Older European American residents in Robeson County where the Lumbee reside also show vestiges of finite be but elderly European Americans and African Americans in other enclave sites rarely use this form. A kind of restructuring of be in Lumbee English is taking place in the current generation of speakers. This development coincides to some extent with the integration of public schools in the early 1970s, an event that brought Lumbees into increasing contact with African Americans. While the use of finite be(s) has come to characterize the Lumbee (Wolfram and Dannenberg 1999), habitual be in constructions such as Sometimes they be acting nice is a well-known feature of twentieth-century AAVE (see Wolfram, this volume). Among older Lumbee speakers, be(s) may be used in habitual contexts, but it is not restricted to this function. Younger Lumbee speakers show the increased use of be in v-ing constructions with a habitual reading, the contemporary grammaticalized function of be in AAVE. At the same time, be may have verbal -s attachment with 3rd sg. subjects (e.g. The train bes coming every day at noon) and, to a lesser extent, 3rd pl. subjects (e.g. The trains bes coming). This pattern is unlike its contemporary AAVE use, which does not typically mark verbal -s. We thus observe that be has partially accommodated the grammaticalization that has taken place in AAVE while retaining distinctive parameters of the concord system of Lumbee Vernacular English.

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3.1.2. Copula/auxiliary absence The absence of copula and auxiliary for contractible forms of is and are (e.g. She nice for ‘She’s nice’ or They acting silly for ‘They’re acting silly’) is strongly associated with AAVE (e.g. Labov 1972a; Wolfram 1969; Fasold 1972; Rickford 1999), but it is also shared to some extent with Southern white rural vernacular varieties of English. In Southern European American English varieties, particularly those within the former large plantation areas of the South, deletion tends to be limited to contractible forms of are; it is also used at reduced frequency levels compared to AAVE. In Southeastern enclave communities, copula absence is associated primarily with African American communities. For example, it is not found in the exclusively white island dialects of the Outer Banks (Wolfram, Hazen and Schilling-Estes 1999) and the Chesapeake Bay (Schilling-Estes 1997) and it is not characteristic of the European American cohort community in Hyde County even though it is found among African Americans there. Deletion is also found among African American speakers in Appalachian enclave communities (Mallinson and Wolfram 2002), where some European American speakers do sporadically exhibit deletion of are (Wolfram and Christian 1976). In Lumbee Vernacular English, it is found to a very limited extent (Dannenberg 2003) and used at frequency levels between those for cohort African American and European American speakers. The occurrence of copula absence in enclave communities seems attributable to contact with AAVE speakers rather than to an independent development. Enclave dialects regularly exhibit the deletion of contracted forms of have as in I been there before or He been there. This is a phonological process involving the deletion of a weak final consonant rather than a morphological process. 3.1.3. Perfective be Many enclave dialects alternate perfective be with the auxiliary have as in I’m been there for I’ve been there or You’re been there for You’ve been there. This is no doubt a perpetuation of an earlier pattern that included widespread fluctuation with perfective be and have well into the seventeenth century. Although perfective be is now relatively infrequent in most enclave dialects in the Southeastern US, it remains a robust, productive form in one variety we examined, Lumbee Vernacular English (Dannenberg 2003). Furthermore, its development in this variety distinguishes it from other varieties where it is still found. Perfective be is structurally restricted to contracted finite forms (e.g. I know I’m been here but not *I know I am been here), and it has expanded semantically to apply to some simple past constructions (e.g. I’m forgot the food yesterday). Though perfective be is indicated in a wide range of enclave dialects, its restructuring in Lumbee English illustrates how a particular dialect community may selectively preserve and expand an item

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to distinguish itself both from other enclave dialect communities and from dialects found in the wider population. 3.1.4. A-prefixing The use of the prefix or proclitic a- with v-ing structures, as in She was a-huntin’ and a-fishin’ or They came a-lookin’ for the possum is a widespread structural trait in enclave dialect communities in the Southeast as well as in other rural vernacular varieties of English. The prefix a- may only attach to verbs and verbal complements as in They went a-walkin’ and We was goin’ up there a-squirrel huntin’; it is also attached occasionally to -ed participles as in It had a white sheet a-wrapped around it or It’s supposed to be a-haunted. It is not generally permissible with prepositions, so that a sentence like They make money a-fishin’ is well formed but a sentence like *They make money by a-fishin’ is ungrammatical. This restriction is no doubt related to the fact that a- prefixing developed historically from a temporal locative as in Rex was at/on fishin’. In fact, in some communities, older speakers still occasionally use sentences like Rex was at fishin’ when we got there. These sentences are remnants from the period when a-prefixing alternated with a temporal locative preposition. There are also phonetic restrictions on the current use of a-prefixing. A-prefixing does not generally occur when the following syllable is unstressed, as in *a-discoverin’ or *a-repeatin’; this prohibition is no doubt a reflection of the prosodic restriction against words beginning with two unstressed syllables. Furthermore, a-prefixing is favored in preconsonantal contexts (e.g. She was a-drinkin’) over prevocalic ones (e.g. She was a-eatin’) though it is permissible in both types of contexts. All of the varieties we have surveyed exhibit a-prefixing to some extent, though they show great variation in their relative levels of usage. Elderly speakers on the Outer Banks use it infrequently and younger speakers rarely use it at all, while some elderly Lumbee speakers use it at high frequency levels and young speakers in more isolated Lumbee communities use it productively as well. 3.1.5. Completive done and slam The use of done with the past tense of the verb, as in They done used all the good ones is a persistent structural trait of enclave dialects that is shared with Southern European American and African American vernacular varieties. On the Outer Banks and among the Lumbee, the variant slam is used in much the same way as done, so that we may get sentences such as They slam used all the good ones. In many respects, completive done and slam function like a perfect, referring to an action completed in the recent past, but they can also be used to highlight a change of state or to intensify an activity, as in a sentence like I done/slam told you not to mess up. It is a stable feature though not used as frequently in enclave communities as it is in some other Southern rural varieties.

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3.1.6. Specialized auxiliaries Enclave dialect communities tend to share a set of specialized auxiliaries with surrounding Southern rural vernacular dialects. We find, for example, the generalized Southern form fixin’ to referring to an immediate future or planned event (e.g. I’m fixin’ to go now) and double modals such as I might could do it in enclave dialect communities. We also find counterfactual liketa in I was so scared I liketa died, although it may differ subtly from how it is used in more widespread Southern rural varieties. In some varieties of Southern English, its use is restricted to contexts of intensified significance, with a metaphorical rather than a literal reference. In these varieties, a sentence like They liketa went through the roof when they saw the mess is well-formed but a sentence with a literal reference of ‘almost’ such as *They liketa went through the roof but the drill they were using wasn’t powerful enough would not be permissible. In other dialects, including the enclave dialects we have examined here, it may also be used with a literal meaning as well as a metaphorical, intensified sense so that the latter sentence would indeed be permissible. Its more expansive use in different enclave communities suggests that its restriction to counterfactual liketa for intensified significance was probably a later development in English. Though liketa is derived historically from the phrase like to have, it is currently interpreted as an unanalyzable lexical item. 3.1.7. Irregular verbs Irregular verbs tend to fall well within the vernacular irregular verb patterns set forth in Wolfram and Schilling-Estes (1998: 331). The types of differences are enumerated as follows: 1. past generalized as participle I had went down there. She may have took the car. 2. participle generalized as past He done the work. She seen something there. 3. bare root as past She run there yesterday. They come to my house. 4. regularization of past tense Everybody knowed him. They drinked the soda. 5. different irregular form I hearn something. It riz up in front of me.

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Enclave dialects are no different from other vernacular varieties of American English in the patterning of irregular verb forms. However, the retention of different irregular forms (Type 5), such as hearn for heard, riz for rose, clumb for climbed, or holp for help is much more characteristic of enclave varieties than most other vernacular varieties of English. Many of these forms are, of course, retentions of an earlier, more expansive set of irregular verb forms in English. 3.1.8. Subject-verb agreement Several aspects of subject-verb agreement are noteworthy. The concord pattern in which -s is marked on a verb with a plural subject, as in The dogs barks or People goes there, is widely documented as a feature of American English varieties that were influenced by the Scotch-Irish, such as Appalachian English (Wolfram and Christian 1976; Christian, Dube and Wolfram 1988; Montgomery 1989), although its colonial distribution apparently was not limited to the Southern Highland region (Wolfram and Thomas 2002). In fact, we find robust patterns of 3rd pl. -s marking in all of the enclave dialect communities we have examined here, extending from European American communities in the Chesapeake Bay and Outer Banks to African Americans in both coastal and mountain locations, as well as in Lumbee Vernacular English in the Coastal Plain. Although it may occur at different levels of usage and is subject to different constraints in its application, it is clearly a widespread feature of enclave dialect communities in the Southeast. There are several constraints on the incidence of plural -s marking, namely, the subject type and the proximity of the subject and the verb. Noun phrase subjects (e.g. The dogs barks) favor the incidence of plural -s marking over pronoun subjects (e.g. They barks), and collective nouns (e.g. People likes the dogs) and coordinate noun phrases (e.g. Me and my dog likes to run) favor -s marking over other types of noun phrases. Some enclave dialects show quite strong subject type constraints whereas others show weaker constraints. For example, the Hyde County European American community shows a categorical prohibition against plural -s marking with pronoun subjects whereas cohort African American Hyde County speakers show a relatively weak variable constraint (Wolfram and Thomas 2002). The second constraint is based on adjacency. Verbs that are not adjacent to the subject because of a heavy NP (e.g. The dogs in the trucks barks) or a clausal complement (e.g. The dogs that barks are hungry) are more likely to attach a plural -s than those that are immediately adjacent to the subject. This appears to be a fairly constant pattern though its application is stronger in some enclave dialect communities than it is in others. Most of the dialects we have examined show occasional -s attachment with subjects other than third person as well, as in I goes down there or You takes you a good wife but this is much more sporadic than 3rd pl. -s attachment. Furthermore, the use of -s with non-third person subjects tends to be idiosyncratic; a few

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speakers use it with some regularity but the majority of speakers rarely use it. The attachment of -s on 1st person as a type of historical present in personal narratives as in I goes down there and sees this ghost… is also found in enclave dialect communities. These communities also use don’t instead of doesn’t as a 3rd sg. form, as in She don’t go there or The dog don’t bark. This is a widespread characteristic of American English vernacular dialects wherever they are found. The pattern of 3rd sg. -s absence in sentences such as The dog bark_ has not been documented to any extent in the European American enclave communities we have examined in this survey. At the same time, 3rd sg. -s absence is a characteristic of several representative African American enclave communities (Wolfram and Thomas 2002; Mallinson and Wolfram 2002) coexisting with a cohort European American community, revealing a consistent ethnolinguistic boundary in bi-ethnic enclave communities. 3.1.9. Past and present tense be agreement Patterns of subject-verb agreement are both similar to and different from those found in other vernacular dialects of English. On the one hand, enclave dialects participate in the widespread vernacular pattern of be regularization for present and past forms of conjugated be; are and am level to is, as in The folks is home or Y’all is here and past tense be levels to was, as in The folks was there or Y’all was here. Regularization is much more common in past than in present tense, as it is in virtually all varieties of vernacular English having be leveling. The comparison of leveling over time and place indicates that it is diminishing somewhat (Wolfram and Thomas 2002), probably due to the effect of prescriptive norms. Nonetheless, it is still quite robust in some enclave communities. In most US varieties, past be is usually regularized to was, as in We was home or You wasn’t there (Wolfram and Schilling-Estes 1998). However, in the Southeastern coastal area extending from Maryland and Virginia to North Carolina, there is an alternate pattern in which past be is leveled to was in positive sentences (e.g. We was there) and to weren’t in negative sentences (e.g. I weren’t home). This pattern represents remorphologization of the two past be stems on the basis of polarity, such that was is now used to mark affirmative rather than singular meaning, and the were-stem is now used to mark negativity rather than plurality. In the Southeast, the was/weren’t pattern is robust among groups as geographically and culturally disparate as the European Americans on the islands in the Chesapeake Bay (Schilling-Estes 1997; Wolfram and Schilling-Estes 2003) and the Lumbee Indians of the Coastal Plain of North Carolina (Wolfram and Sellers 1999). Furthermore, it is found in both coastal African American and European American enclave communities (Wolfram and Thomas 2002). There is little indication that it is found among cohort rural communities in neighboring Coastal Plain regions or in the Highland South. Although leveling to weren’t is well-represented in past

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and present vernacular varieties of English spoken in the British Isles (cf. Anderwald 2002), the coastal Southeastern US is the only region outside of the British Isles where it has been documented. 3.1.10. Other verb phrase structures A number of traits affecting verbs are restricted to particular lexical items and verb plus complement combinations rather than general categories of verbs. A couple of items involve the use of the complement to with the verb. One occurs with v–ing constructions as in He started to running or Dad went to driving real fast. Another involves have to with a causative or resultative meaning as in She’ll have him to bring the paper when he comes home. This trait is shared with most Southern American dialects in general. Enclave dialects are also more prone than other rural varieties to retain for to complement constructions as in I’ll have for him to come home or I want for her to take it with her. Many of these uses involve retentions of older forms that have been lost in other varieties of English and are general features shared with surrounding Southern rural varieties of English. The use of aim for ‘intend’ or ‘plan’ (e.g. I aim to do it later), hear tell for ‘hear’ (e.g. I heard tell you have a new boat), carry for ‘accompany’ (e.g. I’ll carry you to the store), and reckon for ‘suppose’ or ‘surmise’ (e.g. I reckon I should leave now) are widespread features of contemporary or earlier Southern American English that are shared with enclave dialect communities. Particular lexical differences may also characterize specific enclave communities such as the use of mommuck for ‘harass’ on the Outer Banks (e.g. He mommucked his kids all the time) or the use of progging for ‘looking for artifacts’ (particularly arrowheads as in He was proggin’ yesterday) on the islands of the Chesapeake Bay (Shores 2000), but such differences have to be considered on an item-by-item basis for different enclave communities. 3.2.

Adverbs

Several distinctive features of adverbs characterize enclave dialect communities. One is the placement of temporal adverbial phrases. In English, adverbial phrases may occur after the verb phrase as in We have floods once in a while or in pre-sentential position as in Once in a while we have floods, but some dialects, including the enclave dialects in our survey, also permit placement between the subject and the verb phrase, as in We once in a while have floods. We also find the use of anymore in affirmative sentences with a meaning of ‘nowadays’, as in We have a lot of floods anymore. These varieties align themselves with regional Midland dialects of American English rather than surrounding Southern varieties in this regard. Although some positive anymore varieties permit pre-sentential movement of the adverb as in Anymore, we have a lot of floods, it is only found in post-verbal

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position in the enclave dialects we have surveyed. We also find an expanded reference for the adverb whenever in the enclave communities, in which it may be used to refer to a punctual event as in Whenever I lost my mother a few years ago or an extended time event in Whenever she was living she taught me. It is quite evident in the highland areas of Appalachia, but it is also found to some extent in coastal varieties. In most other varieties of American English, its use is restricted to recurring or conditional events as in Whenever she goes to the store, she buys fish. A set of specialized intensifying adverbs characteristic of Southern dialects is also found in enclave varieties of the Southeast. The intensifier right retains its earlier, more unrestricted co-occurrence with general adjectives and adverbs, as in The dog is right big or He hollered right loud. In most varieties of American English, the intensifier right is now limited to location in place or time, as in She’s right around the corner or He’s right on time. The intensifier plumb, which can alternate with slam, refers to a state of completeness, as in She fell plumb asleep or She fell slam asleep. Plumb and slam are also restricted to neutral and negative attributes; accordingly, a sentence like He’s plumb ugly is permissible but as sentence like *He’s plumb handsome is not. In a couple of the coastal dialect communities we have examined, some may be attached to an adjective, as in The meal sure was good-some. However, we have found it used in contrasting ways; on the Outer Banks island of Ocracoke, -some strengthens the degree of the attribute whereas on Smith Island in the Chesapeake Bay it weakens it (Schilling-Estes 1997). Thus, good-some in Ocracoke means that the food was very tasty, but on Smith Island it means that it was not very tasty. The adverbial use of but with a negative in He ain’t but fifteen or There ain’t but so much I can do also is found with a meaning of ‘only’ or ‘no more than’. Enclave dialects are like most other vernacular dialects of English in their regularization of comparatives, so that multisyllabic words like beautifulest or awfulest may attach the comparative suffix rather than the lexical comparative forms more and most that are used in standard varieties. Pleonastic marking in most beautifulest and more older is also found. Fairly extensive absence of adverbial -ly is common in these varieties, so that we find sentences like I was exceptional scared or I’m frightful bad at that. Again, this is a feature shared by many vernacular varieties of English, though it seems to be more expansively applied in the enclave dialect communities than in some other vernacular varieties (Wolfram and Fasold 1974). 3.3.

Negation

Negative patterns in enclave varieties are quite like those in other vernacular varieties of English, including negative concord and the extensive use of the lexical marker ain’t. Negative concord, or multiple negation, may occur with postverbal indefinites, as in It wasn’t nothing, with preverbal indefinites, as in Nobody don’t

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like him ‘Nobody likes him’, and with inversion, as in Don’t nobody like him or Ain’t nobody home. Cross-clausal negative concord also may occur in sentences like There wasn’t much I couldn’t do, meaning that there wasn’t much that the speaker could do. Cross-clausal negative concord, though rare, is shared with other Southern vernaculars (Wolfram and Christian 1976) as well as with AAVE (Labov 1972a). Like other vernacular dialects, ain’t is used as a preverbal negative for present tense forms of be (i.e. am not, isn’t, aren’t in She ain’t here) as well as for the present auxiliary haven’t/hasn’t in She ain’t been there lately. The generalized past tense variant wont for wasn’t and weren’t (e.g. I wont there yesterday), found in some mainland Southern vernacular varieties, is not found to any extent in coastal and highland enclave varieties, though it is found in the Coastal Plain and Piedmont regions. Enclave communities still exhibit vestiges of older negative adverbs such as nary in I didn’t catch nary a fish last night or tain’t in Tain’t a thing that will hurt you. 3.4.

Nominals

Most noun phrase traits found in enclave dialects are shared with a wide range of English vernaculars, although there are also few features that may distinguish these varieties from other dialects. Plural -s absence with quantified measure nouns is quite prominent in most of the enclave dialects we have surveyed, as in I caught 200 pound_ of flounder or It’s four mile_ from here. These varieties also share in the regularization of irregular plurals, including items that shift from irregular to regular suffixation (e.g. oxes, gooses), the attachment of -s to zero marked plural forms (e.g. three sheeps, two corns), and the redundant marking of irregular plurals (e.g. firemens). In this regard, these varieties are no different from other vernacular dialects of American English. Some noun phrase differences involve selection restrictions with articles. Certain types of diseases, for example, may routinely take an article (e.g. the earache, the toothache, the colic); in most mainstream varieties they do not take an article. Enclave dialect communities also tend to have a small set of unique lexical items referring to local geography (e.g. up the beach for ‘off the island’ in Ocracoke, on the swamp for ‘neighborhood’ in the Lumbee community), terms differentiating locals from outsiders (e.g. dingbatters for outsiders versus O’cockers for native islanders on the island of Ocracoke) and terms for community-based social distinctions. For example, swamp Indian and brickhouse Indian are Lumbee designations for high-status and low-status community residents and the term Lum is reserved for a person who has a strong sense of Native American identity. Lexical differences of this type must, of course, be catalogued on a community-by-community basis. Pronominal differences also characterize enclave dialect communities. Most Southeastern US enclave situations participate to some extent in the widespread

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Southern use of second plural y’all. In highland regions of Southern Appalachia, you’uns is an alternate form for second person plurals, including some African Americans who live in this highland region. The retention of the -’n suffix in his’n, her’n in non-attributive position, as in It’s his’n, not her’n is still found in highland enclave communities, but it is receding rapidly. The use of me as a possessive in I lost me cap is also found to a limited degree among some elderly speakers in highland and coastal communities. Enclave varieties share the widespread Southern benefactive dative in sentences like I got me a new car, as well as null subject pronouns in embedded sentences such as It’s a man come over here yesterday. The use of what as a relative pronoun in That’s the man what I was talking about is rarely found, though there are vestiges of it in a few elderly speakers. Elderly speakers may also still show remnants of pronominal attachment in which the wh-form follows rather than precedes ever, as in everwhat, everwho, and everhow (e.g. I do everwhat he says), though these forms are rarely if ever found among middle-aged and younger speakers. Enclave dialects share in the widespread vernacular regularization of reflexives hisself and theirselves as in He washed hisself and They washed theirselves; the use of objective forms as demonstratives in I brought them dogs; and the use of objective forms of the pronoun in coordinates in Me and him got it. Finally, we should note the prominence of existential it in It’s a new person here for There’s a new person here. While a couple of dialects we have examined occasionally use they as an existential in They’s a new person here, existential it is much more pervasive. 3.5.

Prepositions

A number of prepositional differences typify enclave dialect areas, but most are lexically specific and therefore have to be discussed on an item-by-item basis. One of the common traits is the use of genitive phrases rather than temporal locatives for times of the day and the seasons, as in She’ll be there of the morning or You should plant of the fall. Island communities regularly use the preposition to for static locatives in She’s to the dock or She’s to the restaurant where other English dialects use at. There are other differences, but they relate to individual lexical items and phrases rather than general patterns, as in upside the head for ‘on the side of’, agin for ‘against’, across the beach for on the beach, and so forth. Some differences apply to verb + particle combinations rather than prepositions per se, as in bless out for ‘curse’ (e.g. They blessed him out), happen in (e.g. The happened in on us), left out (e.g. They left out the house), and so forth.

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Conclusion

We summarize our conclusions in several comparative charts. Descriptive studies of enclave communities include European American island communities on the Outer Banks (Wolfram and Schilling-Estes 1997; Wolfram, Hazen and SchillingEstes 1999) and in the Chesapeake Bay (Schilling-Estes 1997; Schilling-Estes and Wolfram 1999; Shores 2000); bi-ethnic coastal communities (Wolfram and Thomas 2002) and highland communities (Mallinson and Wolfram 2002); and the tri-ethnic community in which the Lumbee Native Americans reside (Wolfram and Dannenberg 1999; Dannenberg 2003). To situate these varieties in terms of a broader base of vernacular varieties, general Southern rural vernacular English and non-Southern Northern vernacular English are included, based on works such as Wolfram and Fasold (1974), and Wolfram and Schilling-Estes (1998). Separate tables are given for the verb phrase (Table 1), for nominals (Table 2), and for other structures, including negatives, adverbs, and prepositions (Table 3). In the comparison, a check ¸ indicates that the feature is present and parentheses around the check (¸) indicate that the feature is infrequent. The checklist is naturally subject to the usual kinds of limitations associated with qualitative summary inventories of this type.

Table 1.

Comparative dialect profile of the verb phrase

Grammatical Structure

Euro. Am Afr. Am. Coastal Coastal

Euro. Am. Afr. Am. Lumbee Highland Highland English

Rural NonSouthern Southern (Euro. Am.)

a-prefixing e.g. He was a-fishin’

¸

(¸)

¸

(¸)

¸

(¸)

3rd pl. -s marking e.g. The dogs barks

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

3rd sg. -s absence e.g. The dog bark

¸

¸

Finite be e.g. It bes like that

(¸)

(¸)

¸

¸ (¸)

(¸)

Copula absence are; e.g. You ugly is; e.g. He ugly Perfective be e.g. I’m been there I might be done it

¸ ¸

(¸)

(¸)

(¸)

¸ ¸

weren’t regularization e.g. It weren’t me

¸

¸

¸

Completive done e.g. He done fixed it

¸

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

¸

¸

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Table 1. (continued)

Comparative dialect profile of the verb phrase

Grammatical Structure

Euro. Am Afr. Am. Coastal Coastal

Euro. Am. Afr. Am. Lumbee Highland Highland English

Rural NonSouthern Southern (Euro. Am.)

Counterfactual liketa e.g. I liketa died

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

Double modals ¸ e.g. He might could come

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

for to complement e.g. I want for to get it

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

causative have…to e.g. I have him to do it

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

was/were regularization ¸ e.g. We was there

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

irregular verb (1) generalized past/part. ¸ e.g. She had came here ¸

¸ ¸

¸ ¸

¸ ¸

¸ ¸

¸ ¸

¸ ¸

(2) generalized part./past e.g. She done it ¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

(3) bare root as past ¸ e.g. She give him a dog

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

(4) regularization e.g. She knowed him

¸

(5) different (¸) irregular e.g. He retch up the roof

Table 2.

Comparative dialect profile of nominals

Grammatical Structure

Euro. Am Afr. Am. Coastal Coastal

Euro. Am. Afr. Am. Lumbee Highland Highland English

Rural NonSouthern Southern (Euro. Am.)

-s-pl absence, measure nouns e.g. 40 pound_

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

Long plural with -s + stop e.g. postes

¸

(¸)

¸

(¸)

¸

Regularized plurals e.g. oxes, sheeps

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

2nd pl. y’all e.g. Y’all are a crowd

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

2nd pl. you’ns e.g. You’uns are a crowd

¸

Rural and ethnic varieties in the Southeast: morphology and syntax Table 2. (continued) Grammatical Structure

Comparative dialect profile of nominals Euro. Am Afr. Am. Coastal Coastal

Euro. Am. Afr. Am. Lumbee Highland Highland English

Rural NonSouthern Southern (Euro. Am.)

¸

Absolute –‘n e.g. It’s his’n Benefactive dative ¸ e.g. I got me a new bike ever + pronoun e.g. everwhat, everwho

¸

(¸)

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

¸

(¸)

Expletive it ¸ e.g. It’s nothing to do it

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

(¸)

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

Objective demonstratives¸ e.g. them people

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

Embedded null subject pro e.g. It’s a woman come here

Pronominal what (¸) The man what I talked to Regularized reflexives e.g. He washed hisself

Table 3.

299

(¸)

(¸)

Comparative dialect profile: Negation, adverbs, prepositions

Grammatical Structure

NEGATION Postverbal concord e.g. It wasn’t nothing

Euro. Am Afr. Am. Euro. Am. Afr. Am. Lumbee Rural NonCoastal Coastal Highland Highland English Southern Southern (Euro. Am.) (Euro. Am.)

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

preverbal concord ¸ e.g. Nobody don’t like it

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

Affirmative negative (¸) inversion e.g. Didn’t nobody like it

(¸)

¸

¸

(¸)

¸

¸

¸

ain’t for be + not, have + not e.g. She ain’t there

¸

¸

¸

¸

nary e.g. It’s nary a fish

¸

(¸)

¸

(¸)

¸

¸

¸

ADVERBS Verb phrase placement ¸ e.g. We once and a while travel

¸

¸

¸

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Table 3. (continued)

Comparative dialect profile: Negation, adverbs, prepositions

Grammatical Structure

Euro. Am Afr. Am. Euro. Am. Afr. Am. Lumbee Rural NonCoastal Coastal Highland Highland English Southern Southern (Euro. Am.) (Euro. Am.)

Positive anymore e.g. We watch DVDs anymore

¸

(¸)

¸

(¸)

(¸)

¸

(¸)

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

Absolute plumb ¸ e.g. They fell plumb asleep

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

(¸)

Intensifying -some ¸ e.g. The food was goodsome

(¸)

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

¸

(¸)

¸

(¸)

Punctual whenever (¸) e.g. Whenever I lost my mother Intensifying right e.g. He’s right smart

Regularized comparatives e.g. It’s the most beautifulest

¸

PREPOSITIONS Genitive time and season ¸ e.g. She’s there of the morning Static locative to e.g. She’s to the dock

¸

(¸)

(¸)

¸

The comparison reveals that enclave communities in the Southeast share the majority of their dialect structures with other vernaculars of English, particularly Southern rural vernacular varieties. At the same time, there are distinctive traits that set them apart. Some of these traits are shared by all of the enclave varieties we have surveyed but a few structures are unique to a particular enclave dialect community or a subset of communities. Distinctive traits may represent conservative language change and founder effects, but they may also indicate accommodation from language contact and independent language change. The resultant configuration may unite different enclave dialects with each other and with more widespread vernacular dialects, following the principle of vernacular dialect congruity, but the constellation of changes may also set apart these varieties from each other and from other dialects. Although dialect surveys of the South and of American English sometimes overlook the role of longstanding enclave dialects, these varieties are clearly an essential part of the unique dialect landscape of the American South.

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Support for research reported here comes from NSF Grants BCS-0236838 and BCS9910024, SBR-961633, and SBR-9319577; HHS Grant MCJ-370599, MCJ-370649, and the William C. Friday Endowment at North Carolina State University. Thanks to Becky Childs, Clare Dannenberg, Elaine W. Green, Kirk Hazen, Christine Mallinson, Jeffrey Reaser, Natalie Schilling-Estes, Erik R. Thomas, and Benjamin Torbert for research that contributed to this survey.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Andersen, Henning 1988 Center and periphery: Adoption, diffusion, and spread. In: Jacek Fisiak (ed.), Historical Dialectology, 39–83. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Chambers, J.K. 1995 Sociolinguistic Theory. Malden/Oxford: Blackwell. Dannenberg, Clare 2003 Sociolinguistic Constructs of Identity: The Syntactic Delineation of a Native American English Variety. (Publication of the American Dialect Society No. 87.) Durham: Duke University Press. Mallinson, Christine, and Walt Wolfram 2002 Dialect accommodation in a bi-ethnic mountain enclave community: More evidence on the development of African American Vernacular English. Language in Society 31: 743–775. Montgomery, Michael 1989 The roots of Appalachian English. English World-Wide 10: 227–278. Montgomery, Michael and Margaret Mishoe 1999 “He bes took up with a Yankee girl and moved up North”: The verb bes in the Carolinas and its history. American Speech 75: 240–281. Montgomery, Michael B. and Joseph S. Hall 2004 A Dictionary of Smoky Mountain English. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press. Schilling-Estes, Natalie 1997 Accommodation vs. concentration: Dialect death in two post-insular island communities. American Speech 72: 12–32. Schilling-Estes, Natalie, and Walt Wolfram 1999 Alternative models of dialect death: Dissipation vs. concentration. Language 75: 486–521. Shores, David L. 2000 Tangier Island: People, Place, and Talk. Newark: University of Delaware Press. Wolfram, Walt, and Natalie Schilling-Estes 1997 Hoi Toide on the Outer Banks: The Story of the Ocracoke Brogue. Chapel Hill/London: The University of North Carolina Press.

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Wolfram, Walt, and Jason Sellers 1999 Ethnolinguistic marking of past be in Lumbee Vernacular English. Journal of English Linguistics 27: 94–114. Wolfram, Walt, and Clare Dannenberg 1999 Dialect identity in a tri-ethnic context: The case of Lumbee American Indian English. English World-Wide 20: 79–116 Wolfram, Walt, and Natalie Schilling-Estes 2003 Language change in ‘conservative’ dialects: Evidence from Southern American enclave communities. American Speech 78: 208–227.

Newfoundland English: morphology and syntax Sandra Clarke

1.

Introduction

The corresponding chapter on Newfoundland phonology of this handbook (see Clarke, other volume) provides a brief sociohistorical introduction to the English spoken in the easternmost Canadian province of Newfoundland and Labrador (NfldE). As outlined therein, the distinctiveness of NfldE was shaped by a number of factors: fairly homogeneous founder populations that originated almost exclusively in southwest England and southeast Ireland; the region’s peripheral geographic location, which promoted linguistic conservatism; and the general lack of economic incentives for substantial in-migration. Another important factor was the time-depth of British settlement of the area. As Kirwin (2001: 444) points out, “Newfoundland English, especially its common and folk varieties, began its development well before many English speakers had settled in the present area of Canada and at least 200 years before the United Province of Canada was created in 1841 or the Dominion of Canada in 1867”. World War II and union with Canada in 1949 played crucial roles in building and strengthening Newfoundland’s ties with mainland North America. The effects on local speech varieties have been substantial – particularly with respect to the accents of younger urban speakers and younger females in general, who are increasingly adopting supralocal pronunciations, particularly in their more formal interactions. Apart from a few shibboleths of pronunciation, local non-standard grammatical features tend to be more stigmatized than local phonological features, and more subject to overt commentary and correction (as witnessed, for example, by their general absence from the Newfoundland English taped samples which accompany this volume). Yet these features – which typically represent morphosyntactic patterns inherited from source varieties in the West Country and southeast Ireland (cf. the chapters by Wagner and Filppula, this volume), with possible reshaping in the Newfoundland context – have survived remarkably well as markers of local identity, especially in the many tiny fishing communities which dot the coastline. The English and the Irish founder groups for the most part settled different areas of the island, and a number of these features continue to distinguish the speech of descendants of these two groups, though some have diffused across the ethnolinguistic boundary. For the most part, the features documented in this chapter are associated with the vernacular grammars of working-class rural residents of Newfoundland. To-

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day, some are fairly recessive, and would have been much more common a generation or two ago. The grammatical systems of educated and urban middle-class Newfoundlanders closely resemble those of their counterparts elsewhere in Canada, with some small exceptions. Since a number of the features outlined below diverge markedly from features associated with the grammars of most North American native English speakers of European origin, the range of grammatical diversity is considerably greater in Newfoundland than in much of the North American mainland. The parallels between vernacular NfldE and both African American and Caribbean Englishes are, however, at times quite striking – an observation that is less surprising than it might first appear, given the time-depth of settlement in all three cases, as well as similarities in the geographical origins of the European founder populations of Newfoundland, parts of the American South, and the Caribbean. This chapter draws on a number of sources of information on NfldE grammatical features, among them Noseworthy (1971), Paddock (1981), Halpert and Widdowson (1996), Clarke (1997a,b), as well as the vernacular taped corpus collected in the south coast community of Burin by Catherine Lanari, phonological aspects of which are reported on in Lanari (1994). Much valuable information has also been obtained from tape recordings of older, rural and conservative speakers held by the Memorial University Folklore and Language Archive (MUNFLA). The majority of examples presented below were obtained from these recordings, as well as the sources named above, in particular Halpert and Widdowson (1996). Unfortunately, space generally does not permit mention of the precise source of each example cited. In order to convey some flavour of the actual pronunciations used, these examples often include eye-dialect representation, in particular d for th (e.g. dey), and indication of loss of syllable-initial h (e.g. ‘ouse for house). The works cited in both Newfoundland chapters of this volume, as well as in the general bibliography, provide many further details on particular features, as well as illustrations of them. Information on the history and development of NfldE is also to be found in a number of these sources, in particular Kirwin (1993, 2001).

2.

The verb phrase

Like English varieties in general, vernacular NfldE – understood as the conservative casual speech styles associated primarily with older, working-class, rural residents of the province – displays a simple verbal morphology. Temporal representation is based on a bipartite tense system which opposes past and non-past (present), and is encoded for the majority of verbs via a suffixal inflectional morphology. With the exception of several suffixes (notably -ing, representing an event in progress), aspect and modality are encoded via a set of preverbal markers which often surface – as in other spoken varieties – in reduced phonological form, e.g. I’ll

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(< will) do it, I’d (< would) like to, both of which represent irrealis modality. Vernacular NfldE, however, is characterized by its degree of phonological reduction of pre- and post-verbal morphology; as outlined below, a frequent outcome is the apparent absence of overt surface morphological marking. The verbal system of vernacular NfldE differs from that of standard English in several principal areas: its aspectual system, in particular the representation of habitual and perfect aspect; the regularization of irregular past forms; and non-past subject-verb agreement. 2.1.

Habitual aspect

As in Standard English, the simple forms of verbs (e.g. I see/saw her; They run/ ran every day) represent a range of aspectual meanings, notably habitual, durative/continuous and punctual. Like other varieties, NfldE displays the past habitual marker [just] (e.g. We used to go there all the time), with preverbal (woul)d an alternative option (Whenever we saw it we’d shout out). Unlike most varieties, however, vernacular NfldE displays use of the suffix -s throughout the entire nonpast paradigm (e.g. we/they goes). While suffixed verbs carry the same range of aspectual meanings as do non-suffixed forms (we/they go), they are most frequently associated with habitual meaning (see Clarke 1997a) – just as in a number of other dialects in which they have been investigated, among them diaspora African American English varieties, as well as conservative Devon English (Poplack and Tagliamonte 2001). The verb be stands out in terms of aspectual representation. This verb has two sets of non-past stems: a standard set (i.e. am/is/are); and the stem be, which represents habitual, and occasionally durative, aspect. Though it is categorically marked with the suffix -s in NfldE, the latter closely resembles invariant be in conservative African American Vernacular English (AAVE) in terms of semantic function – see for example Wolfram (on AAVE, this volume). This yields oppositions such as They bees sick (all the time, often) vs. They’re sick (right now). Habitual bees – today fairly recessive – is most associated with areas of the province settled by the southwest English. Though this form is also attested on the Irish-settled Avalon peninsula in the southeast corner of the province, Irish-settled areas are characterized by a competing habitual variant, unstressed periphrastic do [d] be, as in He do be sick some lot. Today, however, the do be variant is highly recessive. Since in the negative and interrogative habitual be requires do-support, just as in AAVE, bees and do be are indistinguishable in such contexts, where their frequency is perhaps greater than in affirmative declaratives (e.g. Do he be sick a lot?; They don’t be here that often). The be stem is also fairly frequently encountered in don’t be V-ing constructions, particularly in negative imperatives conveying disapproval (e.g. Don’t be goin’ on like that); apart from the Irish-inherited idiom Don’t be talkin’, these typically permit a habitual reading in addition to that of a single-event-related durative.

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2.2.

The perfect: competing variants

As in standard varieties of English, the NfldE perfect consists of have/had + past participle; an older form of the latter, involving the prefix a-, occurred variably among Newfoundland vernacular speakers born prior to 1900, particularly in areas of the province settled by the southwest English, as in (they’ve) abeen, acome, adrinked, ahung, aput, atried. The have-perfect is however in competition with a number of other variants in NfldE, and is often not the form of choice to represent past events with present relevance, even on the part of educated speakers. As in North American English in general, these variants include the simple past form (e.g. I just saw her). They also include forms constructed with the (non-past) auxiliary be rather than have, an option restricted to verbs which involve a change of state: thus They’re already left; You’re come again; They’re turned in (i.e. gone to bed) now; Are you finished?; Times are changed. Three other perfect forms in NfldE are inherited from source regional varieties in the British Isles and Ireland (for more details on each, see Clarke 1997b). The first, often termed the “resultative” or “accomplishment” perfect, reflects an earlier perfect construction in which the past participle follows rather than precedes the direct object of a transitive verb (as in I got a lot of it forgot, see; After he had the two of ‘em killed; They got money enough sove up, the latter two from Halpert and Widdowson 1996). This construction regularly occurs in NfldE, as in other varieties for which it has been documented, with dynamic rather than stative verbs, e.g. they(‘ve) got it built (already), but not they(’ve) got it loved. The second is the Irish “after perfect” be + after + V-ing, as in I’m (already) after doin’ that, which though most frequent on the southeastern, Irish-settled Avalon peninsula area is by no means limited to this portion of the province. The after-perfect displays the full semantic range associated with the have-perfect, including the representation of a long-standing event with present relevance, e.g. I’m after havin’ eleven rabbits eaten (by dogs) this last three months; I’m after burning now (in the sun) about three times. The NfldE after-form is thus not restricted, as apparently it may be in some varieties of Irish English, to a “hot news” representation of a very recent event. For deep vernacular or basilectal speakers in Irish-settled areas of the province, the after-perfect constitutes the usual variant in affirmative statements, though it is less commonly found in negatives and interrogatives. Even speakers who do not use the form regularly may have recourse to it to emphasize the negative consequences of an event (e.g. She’s after gettin’ some fat; Now you’re really after doin’ it – i.e., ‘You’re in real trouble now’). While both the accomplishment perfect and the after-perfect are frequently encountered in present-day NfldE, this is not the case of the third inherited variant, which likewise occurs in Irish-settled areas of the province. This is the use of a simple non-past form to represent an event that began in the past and continues

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through the moment of speech, as in the example I’m off (‘not employed’) a year now, from Lanari’s Burin corpus. The most striking perfect variant in NfldE is a highly localized one, documented to date only on the south coast Burin peninsula area of the island. This is a form consisting of the auxiliary been (pronounced [bn]) plus past participle, as in the following examples, from Noseworthy (1971: 69): I been heard it (‘I heard it’); Have ‘ee (< dee, i.e. ‘thee’) been eat? (‘Have you eaten?’); been + past participle also appears after ain’t (‘haven’t’), as in I ain’t been done it. According to Noseworthy, these forms appear to represent an event that occurred further in the past than an event represented by the have-perfect. There are obvious parallels here with AAVE – indeed, this NfldE usage may possibly constitute the only documented case of “remote been” outside African American varieties. 2.3.

Irregular verbs: past forms

Like other vernacular varieties of English, vernacular NfldE displays extensive regularization of its irregular (i.e. “strong” or “mixed”) past forms, those in which the past tense and past participle are based primarily on vowel change (e.g. drive, drove, have driven; catch, caught, have caught) rather than the regular pattern of suffix -ed addition (e.g. like, liked, have liked). As outlined below, three basic patterns of regularization are in evidence: the first involves incorporation of irregular verbs into the regular -ed paradigm; the second and third, morphological levelling through generalization of either the past tense or past participle as a single past form. Some verbs display more than one pattern of morphological levelling; regional and social correlates for individual verb usage have yet to be described in any detail. (1) Irregular verbs regularized by addition of the -ed suffix to the non-past stem, resulting in such past tense/participle forms as blowed, comed, dealed, drinked, falled (down), freezed (up), goed, growed, heared, knowed, leaved, lied (down), maked, runned, seed, teached, throwed. (2) Past tense generalized as a single past form, replacing the past participle, as in Have they drove home already?; He haven’t went there yet; Have she tore her jacket?; They’ve took it back; also drank, wore. (3) Past participle with or without the suffix -(e)n generalized as a single past form, as in They done/seen/sung/rung it (already); He swum across the pond; It riz (rather than rose) up good; past tense become, begun. These cases may involve verbs in which the vowel of the past participle coincides with that of the nonpast form, giving the appearance of generalization of the bare root (e.g. She come here last week; He already eat it; They give ‘im a good talking-to). Minor regularization processes also characterize NfldE, among them the double marking of past forms (e.g. drownded, ownded, bursted, beated, as well as frozed). Many past participles in -en lose the participle marker (e.g. I haven’t forgot; Have

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the bread riz yet?). At the same time, new irregular past forms have appeared, including scrope for scraped, and sove and wove rather than saved and waved (cf. general North American dove instead of dived). Some irregular verbs exhibit past forms that differ phonetically from those of standard: these include sot instead of sat as the generalized past of sit (They sot down), bet as the past of beat, and [md] as the past of make. An extremely recessive variant of the regular verb past suffix /d/ contains a tense vowel ([id]), and has been attested in such verbs as fittied, loadied, and wan(t)ied. 2.4.

Subject-verb agreement

As noted earlier, the -s suffix occurs readily throughout the non-past lexical verb paradigm. This is the case no matter what the person and number of the subject (I likes, we eats, they runs, the dogs barks). Suffixation is not constrained in vernacular NfldE, as in a number of varieties, by the nominal vs. pronominal nature of the grammatical subject: -s marking is as common with adjacent personal pronoun subjects as with other subject types (see Clarke 1997a). The -s suffix thus serves as a generalized (though variable) non-past tense marker for lexical verbs. Though it is confined to casual speech styles, it none the less commonly occurs in both rural and urban NfldE. Cross-dialect comparison rates (see Godfrey and Tagliamonte 1999) suggest that verbal -s is more frequent in NfldE than in other vernacular varieties in which it has been documented (e.g. Devon English, diaspora AAVE). Have and do exhibit special status in vernacular NfldE. As in southwest England, there is a morphological distinction between their function as lexical verbs and as auxiliaries: among conservative speakers, the former are marked with -s for all grammatical subjects, while the latter take a zero suffix. In addition, analogical levelling may affect the verb stem, yielding haves and doos [duz] throughout the non-past lexical verb paradigm (see Table 1). Table 1. Have and do in vernacular NfldE Have/do as lexical verb

Have/do as auxiliary

She does/doos lovely drawings.

He don’t want to leave; Do she want to see you?

They does/doos a lot of good work.

Don’t they want to go tomorrow?

He has/haves a new car.

He haven’t got no fire; Have she left already?

They has/haves their dinner early.

They haven’t seen her yet

Though (non-habitual) be does not display a parallel suffixal contrast between auxiliary and non-auxiliary function, its paradigm is characterized by analogical levelling of the verb stem, in both the non-past and past tenses. Thus 1st singular

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am (’m) may generalize to all other persons, i.e. we’m, you’m, they’m, (s)he’m; more rarely, 3rd singular is (’s) is extended to the 1st and 2nd persons, as well as the 3rd plural (I’s, we’s, you’s, they’s). However, these regularized non-past auxiliary and copula forms are now extremely recessive. In the past tense, was-levelling is considerably more common, e.g. We was down there; They was some mad; I knowed you waddn(’t) (‘wasn’t’) happy. Third singular indicative were, e.g. he were(n’t) sick, has also been attested, though very rarely; its occurrence in the subjunctive is more common in NfldE, particularly in standard varieties (e.g. I wish she were here), along with non-past subjunctive be (e.g. They requested that he be there tomorrow). A century ago, highly conservative forms of (indicative) be were in evidence, including the 2nd singular dee (< thee) subject forms dee bis(t) (‘you are’), bain’t (d)ee (‘aren’t you?’). 2.5.

Absence of surface marking

Vernacular NfldE is characterized by a number of phonological processes, notably assimilation and consonant cluster reduction, which may result in loss of overt morphological marking. Most striking here is final /t/ and /d/ deletion, which affects the past tense and participle not only of historically regular verbs that form their pasts through addition of -ed, but also the many irregular verbs which have been absorbed into this class. To the untrained ear in particular, there often appears to be no phonetic difference between bare (non-past) and past forms in such verbs as slip, live, happen, as(k) (e.g. He live there for years), as well as in regularized verbs like begin, drink, fall, run, see, throw, etc. (e.g. She fall down and broke her leg; They begin to eat). While the /t/ or /d/ of the suffix is more likely to be articulated before a vowel, it may be absent even in pre-vocalic environment. The suffix may also be deleted in verbs ending in an alveolar stop (e.g. invite, start, persuade, pound) where standard varieties require the /d/ allomorph, resulting in such past forms as He pound on the door; They start back to the road; De woman want me 10 years longer and I wouldn’ stay . Likewise, preverbal aspect and modality markers, notably ’ll (< will), ’d (< would), ’ve (< have) are subject to deletion, particularly but by no means solely in pre-consonantal position. This gives rise to such apparently unmarked surface strings as the following, all from an older rural female speaker: (Woul)d deletion

(Ha)ve deletion

Father p’raps bring over one in de spring when he go fishin’. The name of it be cobe I believe. (speaking of the bestquality flour) How long de sacks been gone?

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Rapid speech processes may also result in deletion of unstressed auxiliaries and even occasionally copula be, as in ... when dey (were) up dere. Deep vernacular speakers are characterized by a high rate of application of the phonological processes noted above. The overall effect is that of a minimally marked, almost creole-like verbal system containing two principal suffixes, nonpast -s and progressive/continuative -in’ (-ing). Since unmarked surface forms carry a range of verbal functions (past tense, past participle, “future”, past habitual, etc.), disambiguation is often context-dependent. 2.6.

Other verb phrase structures

Vernacular NfldE contains many verb + particle constructions. These may correspond to simple verbs in standard varieties, but may also offer a more succinct representation of an event than the standard provides. They include pass out (‘die’); kill up (e.g. he killed it up wit’ de gun); sing out ‘call [out]’); come in (e.g. when de trawlers come in, i.e. ‘were first introduced’); go out (I ain’t made much in jars since de molasses wen’ out, i.e. ‘since they stopped getting molasses’). At least one of these has undergone nominalization, and occurs in the common phrase (the) last goin’-off, meaning ‘finally, at the end’. A number of verb phrases common in NfldE are not generally found in standard varieties. Among these are counterfactual had liketa (‘had like to’), as in I had liketa lose all my money, as well as hear tell of in the sense of ‘hear of’.

3.

Negation

Negation patterns in vernacular NfldE are similar to those found in other vernacular varieties of English. Negative concord is commonplace, and usually involves double negative marking, as in (He) couldn’t get no further, I don’t want no dinner (Halpert and Widdowson 1996 contains many such examples). A clause-initial negative indefinite may be followed by a negated verb, as in Nobody don’t recognize him (‘Nobody recognizes him’). Never is commonly used as a generalized negator instead of not, whether on its own (That time she never come up so far) or in combination (Nobody never came). As in other varieties, preverbal ain’t is used to negate both non-past be and auxiliary have. The latter is illustrated by the following examples from a traditional rural speaker, the second of which displays multiple negation: You ain’t asked me about makin’ butter yet; I don’t have no breakfast when I ain’t got none (i.e. ‘cereal’). However, the use of ain’t appears to have declined considerably in recent years; an alternative variant of haven’t – (h)an’t – has all but disappeared. Negatives may also occur with only or but, as in We couldn’ have ‘em only once a day, meaning ‘It was only once a day that we could have them’.

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Several fairly common vernacular NfldE negators exhibit a distinctive phonetic form. (T)iddn’ ‘(it) isn’t’ and (t)waddn’ ‘(it) wasn’t’ derive from sibilant assimilation (see Clarke, other volume), yielding examples like Tiddn’ no good if tiddn’ good is it? (‘It isn’t good if it isn’t good is it?’) and I waddn’ (‘I wasn’t’) getting’ enough to eat. Negative weredn’(t), presumably an analogical form, is also attested, though much less frequently. Neither, typically realized as nar or ne’er [n], has the generalized indefinite meaning of ‘no’ or ‘none’, as in ... couldn’ get nar drink; There’s nar one of ‘em livin’ in dat ‘ouse (i.e. ‘None of them is living in that house’). Its affirmative counterpart is ar (< either), meaning ‘any’, as in Ar water in that?.

4.

The noun phrase

While vernacular NfldE exhibits several nominal features that distinguish it from standard varieties, distinctions are particularly marked with respect to pronominals. 4.1.

Noun plurals

In NfldE, nouns follow the regular pattern of -s plural marking, outside of a phenomenon often attested in vernacular varieties: the absence of a plural suffix in phrases involving a numerical quantifier (e.g. three ton of bricks, ten mile). Even when the quantified noun displays plural marking, it may be processed as a notional singular, as indicated by the singular determiner agreement in a phrase like this last three months. NfldE makes frequent use of the associative plural and (th)em, to designate family, friends, or habitual associates. Though this feature has been claimed to be of creole origin, its appearance in a number of vernacular varieties of English suggests a regional British ancestry. In NfldE, and they occurs as a less frequent associative plural variant, along with possessive and their(s): How’s Joan and them makin’ out?; Mr. Edwards and they teached our Pad; He went for Bob’s and their sister (all from Lanari’s 1994 Burin corpus). A corresponding and that form is also found as an inanimate pluralizer. 4.2.

Determiners

In NfldE, the definite article is often used as a proximal demonstrative with measures of time, e.g. the fall, the year, meaning ‘this (past or coming) fall, year’. Them is frequent as a distal demonstrative meaning ‘those’ as in them days ‘times past’, them sheep over there; an alternative variant is they, e.g. for to lanch (‘launch’) one o’ dey schooners. In generic NPs, the may occur in more conservative variet-

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ies of NfldE in instances where present-day standard English would opt either for no article (e.g. in the bed; with the fright; he was fond of the gun) or else for indefinite a(n), e.g. when they’d get the cold; lots o’ times when I had de cow. 4.3.

Noun + prepositional phrase

Vernacular NfldE is characterized by a number of noun + PP constructions in which the prepositional phrase is often redundant, among them the spring/fall of the year, a meal of food, a job of work. Similar to this is the following now recessive construction, from a speaker born before 1900: There was tree (‘three’) brothers of ‘em; There was tree sisters o’ we. 4.4.

Pronominals

The pronominal system of vernacular NfldE exhibits a number of features inherited from southwest England, which have continued for the most part to be restricted to areas of the province that were settled by the English rather than the Irish. Though today these features are stereotypically associated with conservative rural working-class speech, many are in common use among younger residents of rural communities. They include grammatical gender for inanimates; the object pronoun en/ un; and pronoun exchange. In addition, both Irish- and English-settled areas of the province display a number of inherited second person pronouns, while all NfldE vernacular varieties are characterized by several pronominal features that occur in many parts of the English-speaking world. The latter include reflexives based on a possessive stem (e.g. hisself, theirselves); the unstressed possessive determiner me (e.g. me book), which also appears in meself; and the somewhat less common existential it, as in ‘Cause ‘tis a big beach down Little Harbour where de caplin rolls in; Lot o’ guys through here this year, is it?; There should be more people coming though, I thinks, than it do. Finally, Pro-drop, or the deletion of a subject personal pronoun, is extremely common in vernacular NfldE. 4.4.1. Grammatical gender In the conservative NfldE pronominal system found in English-settled areas of the province (see, e.g., Paddock 1981, 1988), the pronoun it refers exclusively to non-count nouns (e.g. rain, frost, truth). Count nouns are classified on the basis of mobility: those with non-mobile referents are represented as masculine (he, his), and with mobile referents, as feminine (she, her). The latter grouping includes ships and vehicles (e.g. boat, sleigh, car), as well as such moving objects as waves or the tide, e.g. In she come again. The former represents the unmarked or default category, ranging from flora to buildings to computers, e.g. (H)e’s bad, said of a cut hand, or (H)e looks good on ya, said of a coat. Occasionally, feminine gender

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is found with a wider semantic range than that of mobile object. Though often difficult to gloss, she/(h)er in many such examples refer to ‘the situation at the time’, as in a reference to the economic depression of the 1930s: Depression, whatever you might call ‘er. Compare the common expression She’s gone, boy, she’s gone (i.e., ‘the economic situation is really bad’) and an example from Lanari’s Burin corpus describing a night out drinking: Every now and then I gets out and lets ‘er go, right, when I get there... Wagner (2003) contains an excellent overview of gender distribution in NfldE, as well as in its source varieties in southwest England. 4.4.2. Third person object forms While standard English uses him as both a direct and indirect object pronoun for masculine animates, an alternative variant is common in English-settled areas of Newfoundland, just as in southwest British English. This is the object pronominal en or un ([n]), which derives from the historical direct object form (cf. Old English hine) rather than the indirect object him. In vernacular NfldE, the en form is used regularly, in both direct and indirect object contexts, for non-mobile count nouns as well as masculine animates: He got a half tub o’ coal for to carry home with en; I fell down and cut en (i.e., ‘hand’); Why don’t ya buy en (‘a coat’)? Rarely, the en form designates a feminine referent. 4.4.3. Pronoun exchange Also inherited from southwest England is the use of subject-like pronouns in stressed object position, as in ... for we fellas; And dere was ‘Melier (‘Amelia’) next to she (i.e., ‘in age’); I had to give dey (i.e., ‘oats’) to de hens, once a day; Dis doctor (who) was to we (i.e., ‘our doctor’). Though this is a highly salient feature that is subject to overt commentary, it is surprisingly frequent in English-settled rural communities today: Newhook (2002) found it used in approximately one quarter of the stressed object contexts she examined in a small southwest-coast fishing community, with significantly greater usage by males than females. Considerably more rare today is the use of an object-like pronoun in unstressed subject position, as in Where’s ’em (‘them’) to? 4.4.4. Second person pronouns The 2nd singular subject pronoun (d)ee, from the historical object form thee (e.g. Did ‘ee see en? ‘Did you see him/it’?) is nowadays highly recessive in those English-settled areas of the province where it was in common use in former centuries. While you (unstressed ya) is the usual form in both singular and plural, yous (unstressed version [jz]) is an alternative plural variant in some areas of the province. Yous is not however typical of the Irish-settled Avalon, where the usual (stressed)

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vernacular plural is ye [ji], with corresponding possessive form yeer(s). Within a single community, there may be a number of competing variants: among the 2nd person plural forms observed by Noseworthy (1971) in the small English-settled south coast community of Grand Bank are yous, ye all, ‘ee all, y’all and all yous. 5.

Other lexical categories

5.1.

Intensifiers

Vernacular NfldE is characterized by a number of adverbial intensifiers that are adjectival in form – that is, intensifiers that have resisted the -ly adverbial marker, as has real in most vernacular varieties, e.g. real good. Among these intensifiers are wonderful, terrible, and ugly (She was a wonderful smart lookin’ girl; Them times was terrible bad). As Paddock (1981) notes, -ly is not a productive derivational suffix in vernacular grammar for adverbs in general; rather, -like fills this role, e.g. Foolishlike, I went and stepped on the gas instead of the brake. Two adjectivals in present-day standard English are commonly used as adverbial intensifiers in Newfoundland: right, and the very frequent some as in He was right strange; It was some nice party. Likewise, forms functioning as adjectives of degree in vernacular NfldE may differ from their standard counterparts, as shown by all and every bit in the following examples, from a conservative rural speaker: When we was growin’ up sir we had to drink all molasses; ‘Twas every bit fresh butter (the sense in both is ‘nothing but’ or ‘completely’). A sequence of two adjectives of similar meaning is occasionally used for intensification, as in (a) little small (book). Finally, as in many vernacular varieties, comparatives and superlatives may be doubly marked, e.g. more handier, or marked in a non-standard fashion, e.g. beautifullest. 5.2.

Prepositions

A common feature among urban and rural Newfoundlanders of all social classes and regions is the use of to as a stative as well as a dynamic preposition. Thus to may correspond to standard English at (e.g. He sat to the table; They knocked to the door; Next thing I was to the rock), or to a zero preposition (Stay where you’re to). Into with a stative meaning (e.g. This bottle has a cork stopper into it) is somewhat more restricted in its social distribution. To and in are frequently absent after directional prepositions like down, up, over, e.g. down Little Harbour. Also noteworthy is the Irish-like use of on to signify negative impact, as in It broke on me; she (‘a boat’) blowed around twice on he.

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6.

Syntactic patterns

6.1.

Relativization

315

Relativization strategies in NfldE are similar to those in standard North American English. Ongoing changes include the increased use of that with animate referents, to the detriment of who (e.g. the people that’s been displaced from their jobs); and the extension of possessive whose to inanimate referents (a book whose pages were stuck together), along with innovative that’s (an item that’s use is declining slightly). In addition, vernacular NfldE exhibits two non-standard relativization strategies which it shares with other vernacular varieties. The first is the use of what as a relative pronoun, as in red one (‘potato’) what you don’t see now very often; They couldn’t put the milk away ... what come out the cows. This usage is highly recessive today. The second is much more common, namely, the tendency to delete subject relative pronouns, as in There’s no one pays any attention to that; Couple o’ fellas got der boats wrecked up in Cow Head is here. 6.2.

Complementation

Among the features NfldE shares with other vernacular varieties is subject-auxiliary inversion in embedded clauses that would otherwise be introduced by if or whether, in particular embedded questions (They asked me did I do that; ... to see would he meet anybody). Infinitival phrases of purpose may retain the for to [fd] complementizer, which lost out in standard English to the competing variant to: Not a bit o’ collection (‘money for the collection plate’) if I want (‘wanted it’) for to carry to church; ... piled in a lump for to drain out de lye. The for to construction is occasionally found in other types of infinitival complement, as in I managed for to do it. 6.3.

Other embedded clauses

Vernacular NfldE makes use of a number of inherited subordinating conjunctions that either belong to a different lexical category in standard English, or else exhibit a somewhat different meaning. These include (ac)cordin’ (as) (‘while’), (a)fraid (‘so that... not, in case’), till and where (both in the sense of ‘so that’) and without (‘unless’): The woman got to watch her steps where she won’t go down between and break her leg (Paddock 1981) Bake me (a) cake mother ... till I goes off to see where Tom is (Halpert and Widdowson 1996)

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And she got to keep her eye on him ‘fraid he’s going to go off ... and fall down... (Paddock 1981) The women isn’t satisfied now without they’m goin’ around stark naked (MUNFLA tape C186) At least one embedded clause type has been inherited from Irish English, and occurs, though infrequently today, in Irish-settled areas of the province. This is the subordinating and construction that represents a concessive clause (e.g. She went out for a walk and it raining). A present participle may also correspond to a temporal clause introduced by when, as in We comin’ along (de) shore, de squalls was dat hard she blowed aroun’ twice on he.

7.

Lexicon

The morphosyntactic structure of vernacular NfldE displays many conservative features inherited from its regional source varieties in southwest England and southeast Ireland. As the Dictionary of Newfoundland English (Story, Kirwin and Widdowson [1982] 1990) attests, the same observation may be made of its word stock, which contains numerous lexical and semantic retentions largely unknown in mainland Canada, though some are shared with the Canadian Maritime provinces and to a lesser degree, New England. The Irish Gaelic substratum has given rise to lexical borrowings some of which are in common use today (e.g. sleveen ‘rascal’, scrob ‘scratch’), and language contact is reflected in a small number of borrowings from French (e.g. caplin ‘a salt-water smelt’) and Inuktitut (e.g. komatik ‘sleigh’; see Kirwin 2001 for an overview). Other common lexical items were originally nautical terms that have undergone semantic generalization: these include clew up in the sense of ‘finish’ (They clewed up their work), fair (meaning ‘straight’ or ‘even’), and rig(-out), in the sense of ‘clothing’. Some lexical items in frequent use in fishery-related contexts have undergone a more subtle broadening of meaning, such as the verbs haul and hoist in the examples haul out a chair or hoist a picture up on the wall. A number of NfldE items represent neologisms, or at least cannot be traced to a precise historical source with any degree of certainty.

8.

Conclusion

This brief survey of the salient grammatical features of vernacular NfldE provides some indication of the degree of divergence of this variety from standard North American English. As noted above, a striking characteristic of the grammatical sys-

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tem of NfldE is its conservatism, in the sense of retention of features transported to Newfoundland by early settlers from the British Isles and Ireland. NfldE displays a number of noticeable parallels with other regional and non-standard varieties that have early roots in the New World, among them African American English (e.g. habitual be, remote been, verbal -s, associative noun plurals). Yet though the features documented in this chapter have survived for several centuries, in the past fifty or so years they have come under the increased threat of encroaching supralocal norms. Extensive out-migration to mainland Canada from rural fishing communities – coupled with generally negative attitudes among many younger Newfoundlanders towards overt linguistic symbols of local identity – suggests that these traditional features may play a diminished role in the grammars of future generations.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Clarke, Sandra 1997a English verbal -s revisited: The evidence from Newfoundland. American Speech 72: 227–259. 1997b The role of Irish English in the formation of New World Englishes: The case from Newfoundland. In: Jeffrey Kallen (ed.), Focus on Ireland, 207– 225. (Varieties of English around the World, 21.) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Godfrey, Elizabeth and Sali Tagliamonte 1999 Another piece for the verbal -s story: Evidence from Devon in southwest England. Language Variation and Change 11: 87–121. Halpert, Herbert and J.D.A. Widdowson 1996 Folktales of Newfoundland, Volumes I and II. (Publications of the American Folklore Society.) St. John’s, Newfoundland: Breakwater. Kirwin, William J. 1993 The planting of Anglo-Irish in Newfoundland. In: Clarke (ed.), 65–84. 2001 Newfoundland English. In: Algeo (ed.), 441–455. Lanari, Catherine E. Penney 1994 A sociolinguistic study of the Burin region of Newfoundland. M.A. thesis, Department of Linguistics, Memorial University of Newfoundland. Newhook, Amanda 2002 A sociolinguistic study of Burnt Islands, Newfoundland. M.A. thesis, Department of Linguistics, Memorial University of Newfoundland. Noseworthy, Ronald G. 1971 A dialect survey of Grand Bank, Newfoundland. M.A. thesis, Department of Linguistics, Memorial University of Newfoundland.

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Paddock, Harold 1981 A Dialect Survey of Carbonear, Newfoundland. (Publications of the American Dialect Society 68.) Alabama University: University of Alabama Press. Paddock, Harold 1988 The actuation problem for gender change in Wessex versus Newfoundland. In: Jacek Fisiak (ed.), Historical Dialectology, 377–385. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. (Revised version in Trudgill and Chambers [eds.], 29– 46.) Story, G.M., W.J. Kirwin and J.D. A. Widdowson [1982] 1990 Dictionary of Newfoundland English. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. (Online version at www.heritage.nf.ca/dictionary) Wagner, Susanne 2003 Gender in English pronouns: Myth and reality. Ph.D. dissertation, AlbertLudwigs-Universität, Freiburg im Breisgau.

Urban African American Vernacular English: morphology and syntax* Walt Wolfram

1.

Introduction

Although the roots of contemporary African American Vernacular English (AAVE) were no doubt established in the rural South, its twentieth century development as a sociocultural variety is strongly associated with its use in non-Southern urban areas. Descriptive studies of AAVE that helped launch the modern era of social dialectology concentrated on Northern metropolitan areas (Labov et al. 1968; Labov 1972; Wolfram 1969; Fasold 1972), and this urban focus has continued up to the present (Spears 1982; Baugh 1983; Rickford 1999; Dayton 1996; Labov 1998). A tradition of descriptive studies of rural Southern AAVE now complements the urban focus (Wolfram 1974; Wolfram and Thomas 2002; Bailey 2001; Bailey and Maynor 1985, 1987, 1989; Cukor-Avila 2001), but large metropolitan areas continue to be at the center of many of the linguistic, social, and educational concerns attendant to AAVE. The emergence of urban AAVE was certainly a by-product of the Great Migration in which African Americans moved from the rural South to large metropolitan areas of the North in the early and mid-twentieth century, though demographic movement per se is not a sufficient explanation for the cultural shift in which urban areas became the contemporary norm for AAVE. In 1910, almost 90 percent of all African Americans in the US lived in the South and 75 percent of that number lived in communities of less than 2,500. According to the Census definition, rural residents generally live in unincorporated places of less than 2,500 and metropolitan areas are counties of 100,000 or more with central cities of more than 50,000 people. Census-based definitions do not, however, consider social and cultural factors that may defy demographic criteria. Starting with World War I and continuing through World War II and beyond, there was a dramatic redistribution of African Americans as they left the rural South for northern cities. By 1970, 47 percent of African Americans lived outside of the South, and 77 percent of those lived in urban areas. More than a third of all African Americans lived in just seven cities – New York, Chicago, Detroit, Philadelphia, Washington, DC, Los Angeles, and Baltimore (Bailey 2001: 66). The large influx of African Americans in these metropolitan areas led to intensified racial isolation and, along with other social and cultural ramifications of such de facto segregation, a social environment conducive to the maintenance of ethnolinguistic differences.

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Population movement among African Americans has shifted somewhat in the last several decades, as the influx of Southern in-migrants slowed and more African Americans move from the inner city to suburban areas, but this has hardly affected inner-city segregation. The 2000 US census indicates that approximately 60 percent of all African Americans now live in the non-South and that approximately 6 million African Americans live in the large metropolitan centers mentioned above. Some of these cities have become even more densely populated by African Americans than they were several decades ago. For example, the city of Detroit is now 83 percent African American (2000 US Census); in the mid-1960s, when the author conducted his fieldwork, it was only 37 percent African American (Wolfram 1969: 21). Furthermore, a half-century ago, the vast majority of middle-aged and elderly African Americans living in Northern urban areas were born in the South. In the 1960s, less than 10 percent of African Americans in Detroit over the age of 40 were born in the North; today the majority of African Americans were born there or in another metropolitan area. At the turn of the twenty-first century, the population demographics of non-Southern urban areas reveal the continued existence of well-established, largely segregated African American populations, especially for those living in poverty. There are several reasons for the earlier and current interest in urban AAVE, ranging from personal and practical reasons to descriptive and theoretical interests. To begin with, most linguists who worked on AAVE in the 1960s lived near Northern metropolitan areas, where the contrast between African American speech and the varieties of the surrounding European Americans was most salient. During the launching period for AAVE studies (Labov et al. 1968; Shuy, Wolfram, and Riley 1967; Wolfram 1969; Fasold 1972), there was also an apparent link between AAVE and significant social and educational problems in American society, including urban poverty and racial disparity in school performance. These problems were acute in metropolitan areas, where they affected large numbers of a rapidly growing African American population. In fact, early studies of AAVE such as Labov’s landmark study of AAVE in Harlem (Labov et al. 1968) and Shuy, Wolfram, and Riley’s study of Detroit speech (1967) were funded by the US Office of Education because of the concern for an apparent correlation between vernacular speech and low educational achievement. Early sociolinguistic studies often addressed prominent educational issues such as literacy and educational achievement in addition to their focus on dialect description (Labov 1972a; Fasold and Shuy 1970). As the study of AAVE progressed and encompassed rural Southern varieties of AAVE (Wolfram 1974; Bailey and Maynor 1985, 1987, 1989; Cukor-Avila 2001; Wolfram and Thomas 2002), questions about language change within African American speech emerged, largely subsumed under the divergence hypothesis (Labov 1987; Bailey and Maynor 1989; Poplack 2000; Poplack and Tagliamonte 2001). This hypothesis maintains that contemporary AAVE is evolving indepen-

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dently in ways that increase the difference between AAVE and other vernacular dialects of English. The debate over the nature and extent of innovation continues, but most researchers (Bailey and Maynor 1987, 1989; Dayton 1996; Poplack 2000; Labov 1998; Poplack and Tagliamonte 2001) agree that the locus of independent innovation within AAVE is largely urban and that change within AAVE is diffusing from urban to rural contexts. The significance of urban versions of AAVE is also connected to the establishment of contemporary language norms related to African American youth culture. Morgan (2001) observes that there is a new urban language ideology that relies, among other behaviors, on the differential use of linguistic features. As Morgan (2001: 205) puts it: “Thus, urban African American life is not simply represented in relation to in-group intersubjectivities, but through cultural symbols and sounds, especially linguistic symbols, which signify membership, role, and status so that (…) words, expressions, messages circulate as commodities”. The center of African American youth culture today is primarily urban, and many norms and models of behavior, including language, seem to radiate outward from these urban cultural hubs as the norms of contemporary, supraregional AAVE follow the lead of speakers in these urban areas.

2.

The construction of urban AAVE

Historically, urban AAVE was established on the basis of transplant dialect communities of Southern rural speakers who moved to non-Southern cities during the early waves of the Great Migration in the first half of the twentieth century. There were patterns of interregional movement in which African American residents from coastal Southern states such as Virginia, the Carolinas, and Georgia tended to move northward to cities such as Washington, DC, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York and residents of Mississippi, Tennessee, Alabama, and Texas tended to move to cities such as St. Louis, Chicago, Cleveland, and Detroit, as well as westward to Los Angeles, but most urban neighborhoods were mixed in terms of their Southern regional roots. The increasing number of African American in-migrants in these urban contexts, the shared Southern rural cultural heritage, the segregated living conditions, and the bi-racial ideology characteristic of most Northern urban cities certainly provided an ideal context for nurturing ethnolinguistic distinction. The contrast between urban AAVE and the speech of the surrounding European American cohort communities is hardly at question; there is ample descriptive and subjective sociolinguistic evidence for this division. The intriguing questions about urban AAVE relate to issues of dialect leveling, accommodation, and innovation. To what extent are these urban varieties similar to and different from the rural AAVE varieties that were brought to the area originally? Which features of their Southern regional founder dialects have been retained and which have been

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lost? How have these varieties accommodated to the regional dialect forms of the benchmark European American regional varieties in these urban contexts? What types of linguistic changes now differentiate urban AAVE from its Southern rural counterparts? And what is the significance of such differentiation? These are questions that must be addressed in a comprehensive examination of AAVE as it has developed during the twentieth century. Although most of the discussion of urban AAVE since the 1980s has centered on the extent to which it shows independent development and divergence from European American vernaculars (e.g. Labov 1987; Bailey and Maynor 1985, 1987, 1989; Dayton 1996), the sociolinguistic construction of urban AAVE is much more complex than the issue of independent innovation within AAVE. There are several different kinds of language change that need to be considered in the comparison of contemporary urban AAVE and the Southern rural roots that provided the founder input (Mufwene 2001). First, there is a kind of dialect leveling in which traditional, localized Southern features may be reduced or lost. For example, in urban Northern AAVE there is no evidence of 3rd plural -s in The dogs barks even though this trait was a characteristic of some earlier regional varieties in the South (Schneider 1989; Montgomery and Fuller 1996; Wolfram and Thomas 2002). Similarly, past tense be leveling to weren’t based on polarity (e.g. I weren’t there), a regional trait of earlier African American varieties spoken in the Mid-Atlantic coastal region (Wolfram and Thomas 2002), is not found in Northern urban AAVE. Earlier, generalized traits of Southern rural AAVE may also be lost, such as a-prefixing in She was a-fishin’ or the use of for to complement as in I want for to go now. Although earlier studies of urban AAVE (Labov et al. 1968) recognized this type of change, it has become more evident with the expansion of studies of AAVE in the South (Cukor-Avila 2001; Bailey and Maynor 1985, 1989; Wolfram and Thomas 2002). As already noted, change in urban AAVE may also derive from independent language innovation. Studies of be + V-ing as a ‘habitual’ marker (Bailey and Maynor 1985, 1987, 1989; Dayton 1996; Rickford 1999; Cukor-Avila 2001) suggest that it is largely an innovation of the post-World War II era and that the change has spread from an urban locus outward. While independent studies (Bailey and Maynor 1987, 1989) confirm this pattern of innovation and diffusion for habitual be, the status of other structures, such as the resultative-conditional be done in a sentence such as If you leave it in the tub the chicken be done jumped out the tub by the time you get back and narrative marking -s attachment in He goes and sit down is more disputable (Rickford 1999). One type of sociolinguistic process associated with urban AAVE is linguistic camouflaging, in which a vernacular form resembles a standard or different vernacular form so closely that it is simply assumed to be identical to its apparent structural counterpart. However, this similarity may disguise the fact that the

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form carries a distinctive semantic-pragmatic meaning or is constructed in a subtly different way. Spears (1982) shows that the use of a semi-auxiliary come in the sentence They come talking that trash about him seems quite similar to the standard English use of come with movement verbs as in They came running when they heard the news. Close examination of the use of come in the former sentence, however, indicates that it fills a unique semantic-pragmatic role indicating speaker indignation. In an analogous way, camouflaging may also involve syntactic expansion based on a shared semantic-pragmatic reading, as in sentences like They call themselves dancing. While counterfactual call oneself is quite common with noun phrases in most English dialects (e.g. They call themselves linguists) or adjective phrases (e.g. They call themselves intelligent), its structural expansion to include V-ing complements sets AAVE apart from most other American English dialects. Some camouflaged structures, especially those involving grammaticalized semantic-pragmatic forms (Spears 1982; Baugh 1984), seem to be characteristic of subtle changes within urban AAVE, though it is of course possible that these structures simply may have been overlooked in rural varieties. Thus far, we have discussed urban AAVE only in relation to its change from Southern founder dialects and its independent development, but part of its uniqueness may be found in its relationship to surrounding European American varieties. One of the distinctive traits of Northern Urban AAVE appears to be its relative immunity to the linguistic changes taking place in cohort white communities. Although this exclusion tends to be more salient in phonology than in morphology and syntax, a similar pattern of resistance may be found for regional grammatical patterns. Many AAVE speakers in Midland dialect regions such as Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, do not adopt regional morphosyntactic traits such as positive anymore (e.g. We watch a lot of DVDs anymore), need + past participle (e.g. The car needs washed), and 2nd plural youns or yous. Part of the construction of AAVE as an ethnic variety in its urban context is certainly related to its apparent lack of regional accommodation. Up to this point, we have treated rural and urban AAVE as if it were an obvious binary distinction, but this does not necessarily match the reality of contemporary African American culture and language. Such a distinction cannot simply be based on demographic statistics such as the size of the metropolitan area or population density, as one might be apt to do if relying solely on census data. Furthermore, the distinction between urban and rural may not be as relevant for contemporary AAVE as it once was. Thus, Cukor-Avila (2001) and Wolfram and Thomas (2002) show that traits formerly associated with urban AAVE are present among younger African American speakers in remote rural areas of the South. At the same time, African Americans in these regions may be abandoning local regional traits, showing a movement away from local dialect traits as they acquire traits associated with urban AAVE. For example, Wolfram and Thomas (2002) show a trajectory of change in which regional dialect features recede and structures associated with

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urban AAVE intensify over four generations of speakers in Hyde County, North Carolina, a sparsely populated, outlying coastal region of North Carolina. Figure 1, an adaptation of the figure given in Wolfram and Thomas (2002: 200), shows an idealized change slope for four generations of speakers divided on the basis of different sociohistorical periods: speakers who were born and raised in the early twentieth century up through World War I; speakers born and raised between World War I and school integration in the late 1960s; speakers who lived through the early period of school integration as adolescents, and those who were born and raised after integration.

Figure 1.

Idealized model of change for African Americans in Hyde County

The trajectory of change shows that African American speech has shifted rather dramatically over time, both in its intensification of features associated with urban AAVE and in its divergence from the local regional dialect norms. Can we truly say that African Americans in this remote region are now urban when they reside in a county inhabited by less than 10 people per square mile and having no public transit system, no shopping centers or malls, and no fast food stores? Wolfram and Thomas (2002) suggest that contemporary AAVE is characterized by a movement towards supraregional AAVE norms and a movement away from, or lack of accommodation to, local regional norms so that the urban-rural distinction is dissipating. At the same time, we recognize that current change is radiating from urban centers outward. Given the current status of AAVE, the use of the urbanrural distinction in this description must be interpreted in terms of its historical

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context and the current pattern of diffusion within AAVE rather than in terms of a strict, demographically based dichotomy between urban and rural African American populations.

3.

The grammar of urban AAVE

In this section, I outline some of the major structures of urban AAVE grammar. Given the historical connection to rural varieties of AAVE, the existence of supraregional norms, and current patterns of diffusion, there are many traits of urban AAVE that are shared with non-urban varieties. In fact, the shared core of AAVE structures is an essential part of the unique linguistic story of AAVE. Nonetheless, there are ways in which Southern-based, rural and non-Southern, urban varieties differ. In describing the characteristics of urban AAVE in the following sections, I attempt to highlight some of the ways in which contemporary urban AAVE is similar to and different from other varieties, including rural Southern African American and European American varieties, non-Southern vernacular European American varieties, and standard English. For convenience, the description is organized on the basis of grammatical category. 3.1.

Verb phrase

The most noteworthy traits of AAVE have typically been associated with the verb phrase, including the use of tense, mood, and aspect. For several decades now, researchers (Fasold 1972; Labov 1972a, 1998; Dayton 1996; Baugh 1983; Rickford 1999) have acknowledged that these dimensions distinguish AAVE from other varieties of English, although there is no consensus on its distinctive aspectual parameters. Although there are a number of distinguishing traits, the most prominent features are a distinct set of preverbal particles or auxiliaries. 3.1.1. Copula/auxiliary absence The absence of copula and auxiliary for contractible forms of is and are (e.g. She nice for ‘She’s nice’ or They acting silly for ‘They’re acting silly’) has been one of the most often described structures of AAVE (e.g. Labov et al. 1968; Wolfram 1969; Fasold 1972; Baugh 1983; Rickford 1999). Although there are a number of descriptive and explanatory dimensions of copula absence that remain in dispute, including whether it is derived through a grammatical or phonological process (Fasold 1976), there is general agreement about its ethnolinguistic status. Wolfram (1974) and Feagin (1979) note that AAVE shares copula absence with some Southern white rural vernacular varieties of English, but that there are some qualitative and quantitative differences in the respective varieties. Copula absence is

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quite pervasive in urban AAVE but is not found at all in Northern urban benchmark European American varieties. In Southern European American English varieties, mostly the former large plantation areas, it tends to be limited to forms of are and used at reduced frequency levels compared to AAVE. Studies of copula absence in apparent time and in different regions (Bailey and Maynor 1985, 1987, 1989; Cukor-Avila 2001; Wolfram and Thomas 2002) show that the process has been quite stable in AAVE for some time now, and that differences in urban and non-urban use are quantitative rather than qualitative. 3.1.2. Invariant be Invariant be in sentences such as Sometimes they be playing games, also referred to as non-finite be, habitual be, and be2, is probably the most salient grammatical trait of AAVE, to the point of becoming a stereotype. Its structural and functional properties have now been studied in a number of different urban (Labov 1972a; Labov et al. 1968; Wolfram 1969) and rural settings (Wolfram 1974; Bailey and Maynor 1985, 1989; Cukor-Avila 2001), as well as its development and diffusion over time and place. Although there is disagreement as to how be2 might be represented in the grammatical system of AAVE (e.g. Fasold 1972), most analyses agree that be2 marks a unique aspect referring to an intermittent activity, hence the reference to ‘habitual be.’ To begin with, the use of ‘habitual’ be or be2 needs to be distinguished from several other uses of be, including those derived through phonological processes that affect contracted forms of will and would. In constructions such as She be there in a minute, the be comes from the loss of /l/ before a labial (she’ll be → she be) (see Edwards, other volume), whereas in a construction like If they get a DVD player they be happy, the form is derived from the loss of /d/ (they’d be → they be), since /d/ before a labial may geminate to the /b/ and then be lost in a general phonological process of degemination (e.g. good bye → goob bye → goo’bye). The difference between the phonologically derived forms, represented in (1) and (2) and the use of be in (3) is readily apparent in tag forms (1a, 2a, 3a) and negatives (2a, 2b, 3b). (1)

She be here in a minute. a. She be here in a minute, won’t she? b. She won’t be here in a minute.

(2)

If they get a DVD player, they be happy. a. If they get a DVD player, they be happy, wouldn’t they? b. If they get a DVD player, they wouldn’t be happy.

(3)

Sometimes they be playing tag. a. Sometimes they be playing tag, don’t they? b. Sometimes they don’t be playing tag.

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Sentence (3) illustrates the fundamental syntactic and morphological properties that distinguish be2 from its counterpart in other varieties of English; it does not alter its form in finite uses and takes do support in a way that is comparable to main verbs. Over the last half century, the habitual reference of be, particularly with V-ing, has grammaticalized in a change that has been spreading from urban centers outward. Practically all studies of AAVE show that younger vernacular speakers use be V-ing more than older speakers (Wolfram 1969; Cukor-Avila 2001; Bailey and Maynor 1987, 1989), and that urban speakers are more likely to use it than non-urban speakers (Cukor-Avila 2001; Wolfram and Thomas 2002). It is also possible that the use of habitual be may be age-graded, and that younger speakers who use it frequently will reduce its use as they get older, since it now has a strong association with black youth culture. A more recent aspectual change is the semantic expansion of invariant be beyond its reference to habituality. Alim (2001), for example, notes that be is commonly used in hip-hop equative sentences such as I be the truth or Dr. Dre be the name in a way that seizes upon its iconic status as a marker of black speech. Under earlier analyses (e.g. Fasold 1972; Wolfram 1969), such stativity would have been considered ungrammatical, since it is incompatible with a habitual reading. Dayton (1996) proposes that highly affective utterances such as these may signify shift towards intensified stativity, or super-real status, rather than habituality. As with the original grammaticalization of be V-ing, this most recent change appears to be taking place in more urban versions of AAVE and spreading outward from that point. 3.1.3. Completive done The use of done with the past tense of the verb, as in They done used all the good ones, is a persistent structural trait of AAVE that is shared with Southern European American vernacular varieties of English. Although the verbal particle done also occurs in Caribbean creoles, its syntactic configuration in AAVE and its semanticpragmatic function differ somewhat from its creole counterparts. In AAVE, done occurs only in preverbal auxiliary position with past tense forms whereas it occurs with a bare verb stem (e.g. They done go) and can occur in clause-final position in some creoles (Holm 1988: 162). In many respects, it functions in AAVE like a perfect, referring to an action completed in the recent past, but it can also be used to highlight the change of state or to intensify an activity, as in a sentence like I done told you not to mess up. It is a stable feature, but it is more frequently used in Southern rural versions of AAVE than in urban AAVE.

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3.1.4. Sequential be done AAVE may also show a combination of be and done together in sentences such as My ice cream be done melted by the time we get there, marking a resultative or a future conditional state. On one level, this construction seems to function like a future perfect similar to standard English will have melted in the example given above. Dayton (1996) suggests that a newer use of this form functions more like a future resultative-conditional, referring to an inevitable consequence of a general condition or a specific activity, as in a sentence like If you love your enemy, they be done eat you alive in this society. According to Dayton (1996) and Labov (1998), the resultative-conditional meaning, which is often associated pragmatically with threats or warnings, is a newer semantic-aspectual development. This meaning, like some of the other nuanced meanings of auxiliaries discussed in the following sections, seems to be characteristic of urban AAVE. Although Dayton (1996) documented numerous examples of this type during her years of participant observation with AAVE speakers in Philadelphia, it still seems to occur rather infrequently in most varieties of AAVE. 3.1.5. Remote béen The stressed use of béen with a past tense form of the verb may denote a special aspectual function that marks an activity that took place in the distant past. In sentences such as I béen had it for about three years or I béen known him, it refers to an event that took place, literally or figuratively, in a distant time frame. In some contexts, the form may be interpreted as the deletion of a contracted form of the perfect (e.g. She’s béen married), thus camouflaging some of its subtle semantic difference from other varieties. For example, Rickford (1975) showed that European Americans and African Americans, when given the stimulus utterance She béen married, had quite different responses to the question Is she still married? European Americans interpreted the stressed béen as a deleted perfect form (e.g., She’s been → She been) and as implying that the referent is no longer married, whereas African Americans interpreted it as a distinctive aspectual marker indicating that the referent had been married a long time. With the exception of the phrase I béen known or I béen knowin’ (phonetically quite similar if not identical to known [noun]) in casual speech, the use of remote been in urban areas appears to be receding. 3.1.6. Simple past had + verb One of the newer features of AAVE is the narrative use of the auxiliary had with a past or perfect form of the verb (see the section on irregular verbs) to indicate a simple past tense action, as in They had went outside and then they had messed up

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the yard… . This use is equivalent to the use of the simple past (e.g. They went outside and then they messed up the yard) in Standard English. Whereas earlier descriptions of AAVE (Labov et al. 1968; Fasold and Wolfram 1970; Fasold 1972) do not mention this feature at all, recent descriptions (Cukor-Avila 2001; Rickford and Théberge-Rafal 1996) observe that this construction may be quite frequent in the narratives of some preadolescents. Descriptions of AAVE document the narrative use of had + verb in both urban (Rickford and Théberge-Rafal 1996) and rural AAVE settings (Cukor-Avila 2001). The fact that this feature is so frequent among preadolescents raises the possibility that it may be age-graded, and that AAVE speakers will diminish its use as they become adults, although this interpretation is discounted in some of the data from Cukor-Avila (2001). Of course, age-grading and language change are not necessarily incompatible notions, and it may be that it is a newer feature that shows some degree of age-grading. 3.1.7. Specialized auxiliaries Several auxiliaries fill specialized semantic-pragmatic roles that subtly set apart AAVE from other vernacular varieties of English. Among these auxiliary-like constructions are the use of come to indicate a state of indignation, the use of steady to mark a continuative intensifying activity, and the use of finna to indicate an immediate future or planned event. The use of come with V-ing in the sentence He come walkin’ in here like he owned the damn place (Spears 1982: 852) indicates a speaker’s annoyance about the action or event. Structurally, this use closely resembles the use of come with movement verbs (e.g. She came running) in other varieties, and is thus a camouflaged form. Another apparent camouflaged form is steady in sentences such as Ricky Bell be steady steppin’ in them number nines (Baugh 1983: 86), where the adverb steady indicates an intensified, persistent activity. The specialized auxiliary finna in I’m finna go, related to the generalized Southern form fixin’ to (also fixta, fitna, and fidda), refers to an immediate future or planned event. Camouflaged forms such as indignant come seem to be more recent developments concentrated in urban varieties, although it may be the case that these forms simply have not been noticed in Southern varieties because of their relative infrequency and structural similarity to related forms in benchmark European American varieties. At the same time, the use of other auxiliaries in urban AAVE seems to be receding when compared with their use in Southern vernacular counterparts. Whereas double modals such as I might could do it, counterfactual liketa in I was so scared I liketa died, and causative have to in I’ll have him to do it can be found in contemporary urban AAVE, they tend to be much more robust in rural Southern versions of this variety.

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3.1.8. Irregular verbs The irregular verbs of urban AAVE follow those found in other vernacular varieties of English, in particular, rural Southern white varieties. These include the extension of past as participle (e.g. I had went down there), the participle as past (e.g. They seen it), the bare root as past (e.g. They run there yesterday), and regularization of past tense (e.g. Everybody knowed him). Unlike rural Southern varieties, it does not tend to retain some of the older different irregular forms (e.g. hearen for heard or clumb for climbed). 3.1.9. Subject-verb agreement Two aspects of subject-verb concord are prominent in urban AAVE, one relating to the attachment of the verbal suffix -s and the other relating to the conjugated forms of past and present be forms. Practically all studies of urban (Labov et al. 1968; Wolfram 1969; Fasold 1972; Rickford 1992) and rural AAVE (Cukor-Avila 2001; Wolfram and Thomas 2002) have documented the current-day pattern of 3rd sg. -s absence in sentences such as She walk for She walks and She have money for She has money. The incidence of 3rd sg. -s absence is so high for younger AAVE speakers in some sociolinguistic studies of core vernacular adolescents – reaching levels of between 75–100 percent for some speakers – that it has prompted several researchers (Labov et al. 1968; Fasold 1972) to speculate that contemporary urban “AAVE has no concord rule for verbal -s” (Fasold 1972: 146). This extensive pattern of absence seems to contrast with earlier Southern rural versions of AAVE, which are more prone to have variable attachment of verbal -s with 3rd sg. subjects. Furthermore, in some cases, Southern rural AAVE had verbal -s attachment with subjects other than 3rd sg., particularly 3rd pl. subjects as in The dogs barks a lot (Cukor-Avila 2001; Wolfram and Thomas 2002) but also with 1st and 2nd subjects (Schneider 1989; Cukor-Avila 1995). Evidence (Cukor-Avila 2001; Wolfram and Thomas 2002) indicates that 3rd sg. -s absence is shared by urban and non-urban verbal AAVE varieties, with some intensification of this pattern in core urban vernaculars taking place over the past half-century. Although it has been suggested that a specialized narrative use of verbal -s occurs in constructions such as She takes your clothes and lend them to people in one urban variety of AAVE (Labov 1987), this pattern has not been confirmed in other studies (Rickford 1999), and has been disputed as an innovation in AAVE (Wolfram and Thomas 2002). The second concord pattern affecting urban AAVE is the regularization of present and past forms of conjugated be. AAVE is much like the vast majority of other vernacular varieties of English in its use of be leveling; in the present tense, are and am level to is, as in The folks is home or Y’all is here, while past tense be levels to was, as in The folks was there or Y’all was here. Past tense be leveling is

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much more common than present tense leveling in AAVE, as it is in virtually all varieties of vernacular English having be regularization. The comparison of leveling over time and place indicates that the incidence of be leveling is diminishing somewhat (Wolfram and Thomas 2002), probably due to the effect of prescriptive norms. Nonetheless, be leveling, particularly with past tense, remains an integral and robust pattern within urban AAVE. 3.1.10. Other verb phrase structures There are other types of verb structures that distinguish AAVE, but these are restricted to particular lexical verbs and their complements. For example, the verb beat in AAVE may function as an intransitive verb, as in We beat for ‘won’, whereas it is required to co-occur with an object in other varieties of English as in We beat the team. This use of intransitive beat is quite common in urban versions of AAVE. Or, a verb plus particle may function together lexically as in blessed out for ‘scold’ or ‘swear at’ in She blessed him out. This use is common in both urban and rural contexts and is shared with Southern European American English. The use of say to introduce a quote, as She told him, say, “Where you been?” is similar to its use in some creoles, prompting speculation that it is a vestige of creole influence (Rickford 1999: 9). Say may also be extended in AAVE to refer to nonhuman and inanimate objects, as in The rock say “boom”, which distinguishes its use in AAVE from other varieties using the general quotative go, as in The rock went “boom”. The verb go in the construction Here go the house functions as a static locative in AAVE, distinguishing it from benchmark European American varieties that use it only as a dynamic locative. There are a number of differences of this type that distinguish AAVE from other varieties but they are related to individual lexical items or phrasal complements and not to the overall grammatical configuration of AAVE. 3.2.

Negation

The formation of negation in AAVE is not particularly distinct from other vernacular varieties of English in the US and beyond. To begin with, it participates in negative concord, or multiple negation, in which a single negative proposition may be marked both within the verb phrase and on postverbal indefinites, as in It wasn’t nothing or They didn’t do nothing about nobody having no money or nothing like that. In this respect, it is no different from the majority of vernacular dialects of English (Wolfram and Schilling-Estes 1998). In urban areas, the incidence of negative concord is sharply stratified; some low-status speakers show the categorical realization of negative concord while middle-class speakers often show very low frequency levels or no negative concord at all in their sociolinguistic interviews (Wolfram 1969: 156).

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AAVE also participates in a type of negative concord that involves a preverbal indefinite and verbal negative as in Nobody don’t like him, which is equivalent to the standard sentence Nobody likes him. In standard varieties of English, it is possible for the two negative propositions to cancel each other, as in the longstanding American TV advertisement phrase, Nobody doesn’t like Sara Lee [pastries], which of course implies that everyone likes the product. Although some isolated sentences of this type might be syntactically ambiguous, the intent of most sentences is readily apparent from the context in which they are uttered. Related to the preverbal negative pattern is a type of inversion of the negative auxiliary and indefinite subject, as in Don’t nobody like him, meaning ‘Nobody likes him’ or Ain’t nobody home for ‘Nobody is home’. Constructions like these are often used for emphasis, especially if the indefinite is stressed, as in Don’t nobody like him. Negative concord can also be transferred across clauses, as in a well-know example cited by Labov (1972: 130), It ain’t no cat can’t get in no coop, referring to the fact that cats are not able to get into the bird coops built on the roofs of apartment buildings. Although it has been speculated that this type of cross-clausal negation might be unique to AAVE, Southern-based European American vernaculars (Wolfram and Christian 1976: 113) also use cross-clausal negative concord. This type of concord is quite infrequent in AAVE, as it is in other varieties where it is found, and there are lingering questions about the default interpretation of cross-clausal negatives. Like other vernacular dialects, AAVE uses ain’t as a general preverbal negative for present tense be (am not, isn’t, aren’t) and for the perfect auxiliary haven’t/ hasn’t as in She ain’t here or She ain’t been there lately. In this respect, AAVE is no different from other vernacular varieties of English. However, AAVE is unlike most European American vernacular varieties in generalizing the use of ain’t for didn’t as well, as in She ain’t do it. This distinctive use is fairly widespread in urban varieties of AAVE, although it is camouflaged by other, shared uses of ain’t. The generalized past tense variant wont for wasn’t and weren’t in I wont there yesterday, found in some Southern vernacular varieties, is not typical of urban AAVE. Finally, ain’t and don’t may be used with but to indicate ‘only’ or ‘no more than’ as in She ain’t but three years old or He didn’t take but three dollars. As with most other aspects of negation in urban AAVE, this is shared with Southern rural African American and European American vernacular varieties. 3.3.

Nominals

Although many of the characteristics of the noun phrase in AAVE are shared with a wide range of English vernacular varieties, there are also a few traits that set it apart from European American vernaculars in the US. Perhaps the most noteworthy of these is the absence of inflectional -s on possessives and plurals.

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The absence of possessive -s in sentences like The dog_ tail was wagging or The man_ hat was old are rare among other American English vernaculars. This is a relatively stable feature in AAVE wherever it is found in the US, though Rickford (1999: 271) suggests that it may be subject to age-grading since it is more frequent among younger speakers. The formation of plurals in AAVE is noteworthy for several reasons. First, there is the pattern of -s absence related to measure nouns with quantifiers, as in I got 50 cent _ and It’s four mile_ from here. The absence of the plural -s with measure nouns is a characteristic of a number of Southern-based varieties of English as well as some Northern rural vernacular varieties (Wolfram and Schilling-Estes 1998; Wolfram and Christian 1976), and is probably more robust in Southernbased, rural varieties than it currently is in urban AAVE. However, AAVE may also have a more generalized absence of -s plural unrestricted by the type of noun, as in some dog or two boy. Although generalized plural -s absence is a trait of urban AAVE, it is relatively infrequent, with typical absence levels less than 10 per cent out of all the cases where it might occur. Older, more rural versions of AAVE show a higher incidence of generalized plural -s absence, with some speakers showing levels up to one-third of all potential cases. Another type of plural marking involves the regularization of irregular plurals, including shifts in word class status from irregular to regular (e.g. oxes, gooses), the attachment of plurals to forms that have zero marking in other varieties (e.g. three sheeps, two corns), and redundant marking of irregular plurals (e.g. two firemens, childrens). In this regard, it is like other vernacular varieties of English, apart from some differences in frequency levels. It has been suggested (Labov et al. 1968) that a type of associative plural an ‘em in AAVE, as in Jerome an ‘em for ‘Jerome and his friends’, is more similar to English creoles than to other varieties of English, but this type of associative plural is not unusual in other varieties of American English, including Southern and Northern European American varieties. The use of the second person plural y’all in Y’all done now or It’s y’all ball is quite common in both Southern and Northern versions of AAVE and therefore contrasts with second person plural formation in regions that are characterized by variants such as youse, you guys, or youns. A couple of distinctive traits of AAVE are found in the possessive pronouns. The use of the possessive pronoun they in It’s they book is quite robust in most urban and rural regions of the US, and it usually distinguishes AAVE from benchmark European American vernaculars. The regularization of mine to mines in The book is mines is quite robust in most varieties of AAVE, though it appears more typical of preadolescent speakers than older speakers. AAVE shares a number of pronominal traits with other vernacular varieties of English, including the regularization of the reflexive hisself as in He washed hisself, the extension of the objective form them for attributive demonstratives such as She likes them apples, and the use of objective forms in coordinate subjects

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as in Me and him got style. It shares benefactive datives as in I got me a new car with Southern dialects. Urban AAVE also shares null subjective relative pronoun in embedded sentences such as It’s a man come over here talking trash. The use of what as a relative as in That’s the man what I was talking about, found in some forms of earlier AAVE, is no longer found to any extent in urban AAVE. 3.4.

Question formation

There are two aspects of question formation that distinguish AAVE syntax, both involving subject auxiliary inversion. First, questions may be formed without subject-auxiliary inversion, as in Where that is? or Why I can’t go?. These non-inverted forms tend to occur with wh- questions and syntactically simple sentences. While the productive use of simple non-inverted question order may be receding, it is still quite common in some fixed phrases such as What it is? or Who that is? At the same time, embedded questions may retain subject-auxiliary inversion, as in I asked her could I go with her, contrasting with the standard pattern in which if or whether is used with non-inverted order, as in I asked him if I could go with him. This is a stable pattern shared with a number of vernacular varieties.

4.

Conclusion

The descriptive profile of urban AAVE grammar given in the above sections indicates a robust, dynamic sociocultural variety that maintains continuity with its historical Southern rural roots while becoming the locus of current innovation within AAVE. At this stage of development, factors of social class, speech community, identity, and language ideology are probably as essential as the rural-urban dichotomy but the historical role of this relationship cannot be disputed. Large metropolitan areas appear to be the current sociocultural centers for innovation and the establishment of supraregional norms in AAVE, with change diffusing from these urban locations into more rural regions (Cukor-Avila 2001; Wolfram and Thomas 2002). In tables 1–3, we summarize the status of the major grammatical structures surveyed in this description: Table 1 summarizes innovative and intensifying features of urban AAVE; table 2 summarizes receding features; and table 3 summarizes stable features. Our primary basis for comparison is rural AAVE during the period of the Great Migration, simply labeled Southern AAVE, but we also compare urban AAVE with earlier AAVE (the nineteenth century), Southern European American vernacular English, and Northern European American vernacular varieties. In the comparison, a check ¸ indicates that the feature is present and parentheses around the check (¸) indicate that the feature is infrequent. The checklist is naturally subject to the usual kinds of limitations associated with qualitative

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summary inventories of this type. In this case, the limitation includes our differing levels of knowledge about the status of some structures in earlier AAVE and benchmark European American varieties.

Table 1.

New and intensifying structures in urban AAVE

Structure

Urban AAVE

Rural AAVE

habitual be + V-ing e.g. I always be playing ball

¸

(¸)

intensified equative be e.g. She be the diva

¸

preterit had + V e.g. Then had tripped

¸

resultative be done e.g. She be done had her baby

¸

Earlier AAVE

Southern Northern EAVE EAVE

¸

indignant come ¸ e.g. They come talkin’ that trash 3rd sg. -s absence e.g. She run everyday

¸

¸

¸

ain’t for didn’t e.g. I ain’t go yesterday

¸

(¸)

¸

counterfactual call oneself e.g. He calls himself dancing’

¸

¸

Table 2.

(¸)

Receding urban AAVE features

Structure

Urban AAVE

Rural AAVE

Earlier AAVE

remote béen e.g. I béen ate it

(¸)

¸

¸

double modals e.g. I might could do it

(¸)

¸

(¸)

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

(¸)

¸

¸

a-prefixing e.g. I was a-huntin’ leveling present be to is e.g. We is here 3rd pl -s e.g. The dogs barks

(¸)

Southern Northern EAVE EAVE

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Table 2. (continued)

Receding urban AAVE features

Structure

Urban AAVE

Rural AAVE

Earlier AAVE

Southern Northern EAVE EAVE

counterfactual liketa e.g. I liketa died

(¸)

¸

(¸)

¸

causative have…to e.g. We’ll have him to do it

(¸)

¸

(¸)

¸ ¸

wont for past be e.g. I wont there yesterday

(¸)

different irregular forms e.g. It riz in front of me

¸

¸

¸

for to complement e.g. I want for to bring it

¸

¸

¸

what as a relative pronoun e.g. The man what took it

(¸)

¸

(¸)

¸

¸

non-inverted simple questions e.g. What that is?

Table 3.

(¸)

Stable urban AAVE features

Structure

Urban AAVE

Rural AAVE

Earlier AAVE

Southern Northern EAVE EAVE

copula absence e.g. She nice

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

completive done e.g. She done did it

¸

¸

¸

¸

negative concord e.g. She didn’t do nothing’

¸

¸

¸

¸

preverbal indefinite e.g. Nobody don’t like it

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

negative inversion e.g. Didn’t nobody like it

¸

¸

(¸)

ain’t for be + not have + no e.g. I ain’t been there

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

regularized was for past be e.g. We was there irregular verbs past for participle e.g. I had went

¸

Urban African American Vernacular English: morphology and syntax Table 3. (continued)

337

Stable urban AAVE features

Structure

Urban AAVE

Rural AAVE

Earlier AAVE

Southern Northern EAVE EAVE

participle for past e.g. I seen it

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

bare root past form e.g. Yesterday I run fast

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

regularized past form e.g. I knowed it

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

¸

quotative say ¸ e.g. He told him say, “Leave”

¸

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

¸

¸

¸

generalized -s abs. e.g. three boy

(¸)

¸

¸

regularized irregulars e.g. oxes

¸

¸

¸

¸

subject relative pro deletion e.g. It’s a man took it

¸

¸

¸

¸

benefactive dative e.g. I got me a new car

¸

¸

(¸)

¸

possessive -s absence e.g. the girl hat

¸

¸

¸

¸

regularized mines e.g. It’s mines

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

regularized hisself e.g. He shaved hisself

¸

¸

¸

¸

possessive they e.g. It’s they book

¸

¸

¸

2nd pl. y’all e.g. Will y’all be there

¸

¸

¸

¸

demonstrative them e.g. I love them shoes

¸

¸

¸

¸

different past e.g. It riz up in front of me finna quasi auxiliary e.g. I finna do it

stative locative here go e.g. Here go the pencil Plural measure noun pl. abs. e.g. three mile

¸

(¸)

¸

¸

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Table 3. (continued)

Stable urban AAVE features

Structure

Urban AAVE

Rural AAVE

Earlier AAVE

Southern Northern EAVE EAVE

associative an ‘em e.g. Derek an’ em will be there

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

existential it e.g. It’s a J Street in DC

¸

¸

¸

¸

existential they e.g. They’s a J Street in DC

¸

¸

(¸)

inverted embedded questions e.g. I asked could I go

¸

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

(¸)

By far, the largest inventory of structures is represented in table 3, which lists the stable structures of AAVE. These traits were present in the Southern rural varieties of AAVE originally transplanted to urban non-Southern areas, thus showing the historical and current continuity of AAVE as it now transcends regional boundaries. There is certainly innovation and intensification as shown in table 1, as well as recession as shown in table 2, but these inventories are not nearly as exhaustive as the stable core of AAVE regardless of region. Notwithstanding some regional variation, there is strong support for a supra-regional core of AAVE, affirming the primary sociocultural and ideological basis for the construction of present-day AAVE. It is also noteworthy that the non-Southern, urban context of AAVE tends to stand in stark opposition to benchmark European American varieties in these metropolitan areas. In an important sense, urban AAVE is more, though not isomorphically, aligned with Southern rural European American vernacular varieties than it is with surrounding European American Northern vernaculars. This dynamic is probably a reflection of the bi-racial ideology that defines most urban areas in the US and the developing oppositional identity that has developed in African American youth culture. As Fordham and Ogbu (1986) observe, young African Americans in urban areas do not want to ‘act white’. In this context, ‘speaking white’ is the most salient indicator of white behavior. Although the notion of ‘talking black’ is constructed in such a way that it cannot be reduced to a simple inventory of structural traits as described here (Morgan 2001), linguistic features are certainly a part of this construction, and provide support for the perpetuation of ethnolinguistic distinctiveness. Urban AAVE may change and redefine itself over time and with changing social conditions, but it seems certain that it will remain the most prominent and significant sociocultural variety of American English for some time to come.

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Support for the research reported here comes from NSF Grand 0236838 and NSF Grant 9910024, HHS Grant MCJ-370599, MCJ-370649, and the William C. Friday Endowment at North Carolina State University. I’m grateful to Erik Thomas, Becky Childs, Christine Mallinson, Jeffrey Reaser, Daniel Schreier, and Benjamin Torbert for comments on an earlier version of this paper.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Alim, H. Sammy 2001 I be the truth: Divergence, recreolization, and the equative copula in Black Nation Language. Paper presented at NWAV 30, Raleigh, NC. October, 2001. Bailey, Guy 2001 The relationship between African American Vernacular English and White Vernaculars in the American South: A sociocultural history and some phonological evidence. In: Lanehart (ed.), 53-92. Bailey, Guy and Natalie Maynor 1985 The present tense of be in Southern Black folk speech. American Speech 60: 195–213. 1987 Decreolization? Language in Society 16: 449–474. 1989 The divergence controversy. American Speech 64: 12–39. Baugh, John 1984 Steady: Progressive aspect in Black Vernacular English. American Speech 59: 3–12. Cukor-Avila, Patricia 1995 The evolution of AAVE in a rural Texas community: An ethnolinguistic study. Ph.D. dissertation, Ann Arbor: University of Michigan. 2001 Co-existing grammars: The relationship between the evolution of African American and Southern White Vernacular in the South. In: Lanehart (ed.), 93128. Dayton, Elizabeth 1996 Grammatical categories of the verb in African American Vernacular English. Ph.D. dissertation, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania. Fasold, Ralph W. 1976 One hundred years from syntax to phonology. In: Sanford Steever, Carle Walker and Salikoko Mufwene (eds.), Papers from the Parasession on Diachronic Syntax, 79–87. Chicago: Chicago Linguistics Society. Fasold, Ralph and Walt Wolfram 1970 Some linguistic features of Negro dialect. In: Fasold and Shuy (eds.), 41-86. Feagin, Crawford 1979 Variation and Change in Alabama English: A Sociolinguistic Study of the White Community. Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press.

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Fordham, Signithia and John Ogbu 1986 Black students’ school success: Coping with the burden of “acting white.” Urban Review 18: 176–206. Labov, William 1987 Are black and white vernaculars diverging? Papers from the NWAVE XIV panel discussion. American Speech 62: 5–12. 1998 Coexistent systems in African-American vernacular English. In: Mufwene, Rickford, Bailey and Baugh (eds.), 110-153. Labov, William, Paul Cohen, Clarence Robins and John Lewis 1968 A Study of the Non-Standard English of Negro and Puerto Rican Speakers in New York City. U.S. Office of Education Final Report, Research Project 3288. Montgomery, Michael M. and Janet Fuller 1996 Verbal –s in 19th century African-American English. In: Schneider (ed.), 211230. Morgan, Marcylienna 2001 “Nuttin but a G thang?” Grammar and language ideology in hip hop identity. In: Lanehart (ed.), 187-209. Rickford, John R. 1975 Carrying the new wave into syntax: The case of Black English bin. In: Fasold and Shuy (eds.), 162–183. 1992 Grammatical variation and divergence. In: Marinel Gerritsen and Dieter Stein (eds.), Internal and External Factors in Linguistic Change, 175–200. The Hague: Mouton. Rickford, John R. and Christine Théberge Rafal. 1996 Preterit had + V-ed in narratives of African-American preadolescents. American Speech: 227-254. Shuy, Roger W., Walt Wolfram and William K. Riley 1967 Linguistic Correlates of Social Stratification in Detroit Speech. USOE Final Report No.6–1347. Spears, Arthur K. 1982 The Black English semi-auxiliary come. Language 58: 850–872. Wolfram, Walt 1974 The relationship of Southern White Speech to Vernacular Black English. Language 50: 498–527.

Earlier African American English: morphology and syntax Alexander Kautzsch

1.

The sociohistorical background for the evolution of AAVE

This section briefly summarizes the socio-historical context under which AAVE might have emerged. What is responsible for the extent to which slaves learned approximations of white dialects or restructured the English they used is likely to depend on the nature of the contact between black and white. Regional differences in and temporal change of settlement patterns, demographics, and economics of the US South suggest varying conditions for the slaves’ language acquisition within the former colonial area of the US South (Rickford 1997; Winford 1997; Mufwene 2000). From a temporal perspective four “phases” need to be considered (Winford 1997: 314): the seventeenth century, the eighteenth century, the nineteenth century until reconstruction, and the post-reconstruction period. At the beginning of colonization in the seventeenth century “Africans were scattered and integrated within a European majority” (Mufwene 2000: 237). This refers both to Virginia (founded in 1607) and South Carolina (founded in 1663). Nothing suggests the development of a pidgin or creole (Mufwene 2000: 237), although Winford (1997: 315) assumes that “creolized forms of English” (from the Caribbean or Africa) “existed side by side with the English dialects in at least some areas”. Caribbean influence at this early stage is disputed (con: Mufwene 2000; pro: Rickford 1997; Winford 1997). In the eighteenth century a regional distinction between the coastal areas of South Carolina and Georgia (founded in 1733) and the remaining area is necessary. In coastal South Carolina and Georgia, slave labor became more and more important because of the growing cultivation of rice and indigo (Winford 1997: 315). As a result a setting emerged that is similar to the one in the Caribbean, and it was likely that this context gave rise to Gullah (Mufwene 2000: 243; Winford 1997: 315). On the other hand, the slaves in the piedmont areas of Virginia, South Carolina and North Carolina may have continued to learn the settlers’ dialects on small farms of Scotch-Irish settlers (Winford 1997: 315), on which the contacts between blacks and whites were probably fairly close. It is likely that “various second-language varieties” existed at this stage, which ultimately provided “the broad base on which AAVE continued to evolve” (Winford 1997: 315–316). Due to increasing demands for cotton for the evolving textile industries (Mufwene 2000: 247), the nineteenth century sees an “expanding settlement of the

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Lower South, particularly the Gulf states” (Winford 1997), i.e. Alabama, Mississippi and Arkansas, in particular. This movement resulted in a relocation of about 250,000 slaves (Winford 1997: 316), which obviously contributed heavily to the spread of the “relatively stable AAVE vernaculars” (Mufwene 2000: 247) that had evolved by that time. The Civil War (1861–1865) and the abolition of slavery brought only little economic improvement for former slaves. Due to the Jim Crow Laws (1877) in the southern states, which “disfavored African-Americans in the competition for jobs and for welfare entitlements” (Mufwene 2000: 248), segregation increased and reduced interaction between African and European Americans. As a consequence, thousands of African Americans started migrating to the North and West in the 1870s. This tendency continued when during the Great Migration (1910–1930) almost one million African Americans left the South. Finally, by the 1970s about 6 million had “outmigrated” (Mufwene 2000: 250). Of those who had left, a large majority had to live in urban ghettoes, socializing among themselves, and interacting “with other populations only at work” (Mufwene 2000: 250). This might indeed be the temporal starting point for the distinction between present-day urban and rural AAVE (cf. Wolfram, this volume), and it is likely that in this context some linguistic patterns, namely those primarily associated with AAVE today, emerged as signs of identity or “ethnic markers” (Mufwene 2000: 251) within the relatively homogeneous urban African American communities all across the US. I am aware of the fact that this is a very sketchy description of the sociohistorical background, but it will meet the present needs. Note, however, that it is important to recall that each colony developed at different times along different lines, with different settlement patterns and demographic ratios between whites and blacks. Moreover, different types of agricultural activity made for different community settings both across colonies and within each colony, resulting in rather different kinds of contact between Africans and Europeans, and hence different linguistic outcomes. (Winford 1997: 319).

2.

Sources for the historical reconstruction of AAVE

The linguistic description of a historical variety is first and foremost dependent on the quality of the sources used in the reconstruction process. Early studies of the history of AAVE have relied upon “literary representations of the dialect in earlier centuries, travelers’ reports, diaries, letters, newspaper announcements, and the like” (Schneider 1989: 2–3); but these types of sources are regarded as problematic today, especially because one of the main concerns in the study of Earlier AAVE is the quantitative description of this highly variable variety. In the last two decades, however, quite a number of sources have been unearthed that provide us with various types of material that have turned out to be

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reliable sources for a valid reconstruction of Earlier AAVE on an empirical basis. Since the evaluation of sources in this field has become a very prominent and important issue, I will discuss the types of evidence that have been used in turn. (Bibliographical details of the source texts appear on the CD-ROM.) 2.1.

Written accounts of Earlier AAVE speech

Apart from those mentioned in the quotation above, the first source used were the WPA ex-slave narratives (ESN; Rawick 1972), on selections of which, e.g., Schneider (1989) is based. The reliability of Rawick (1972) has been disputed because of severe cases of editing, but Rawick’s Supplement (1977/79) – a collection of the earlier unedited narratives – does lend itself to linguistic investigations (Kautzsch 2002: 12–19). An offshoot of ESN, namely the narratives conducted in Virginia and published separately by Perdue, Barden and Phillips (1976), has been shown to be a valuable source due to the proficiency of one interviewer in particular (Kautzsch 2002: 20–22). A further precious source are Harry Middleton Hyatt’s (1970–1978) interviews with hoodoo doctors, which come very close to modern socio-linguistic interviews. (cf. Kautzsch 2002, amongst others). What is necessary when using these kinds of sources as linguistic evidence is a careful selection of samples with special reference to the quality of the fieldwork. 2.2.

The ex-slave recordings (ESR)

The only extant audio-samples of Earlier AAVE have been discovered by Guy Bailey and his associates (Bailey, Maynor and Cukor-Avila 1991) and have been analyzed in a variety of publications (e.g., all articles in Bailey, Maynor, and Cukor-Avila 1991; most articles in Poplack 2000; Schneider 1989; Kautzsch 2002). Although doubts have been raised about the representativeness of this relatively small sample, they remain an invaluable starting point for the evaluation of any new “written” source. 2.3.

Diaspora varieties and insular communities

A research group around David Sankoff and now especially Shana Poplack and Sali Tagliamonte aims at describing the language of the African American Diaspora. They discovered fairly isolated African American communities both in Samaná (in the Dominican Republic; Samaná English, SE) and Nova Scotia (Canada; African Nova Scotia English, ANSE). The assumption that isolated communities are likely to preserve older stages of a variety due to lack of contact to outsiders makes these sources a valuable part of the reconstruction process. Having produced a fairly large body of research (e.g., all articles in Poplack, 2000; Poplack and Tagliamonte 2001), the central aim of this research group is to pin down the English heritage of (Earlier) AAVE.

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Walt Wolfram and associates (e.g. Wolfram, Thomas and Green 2000; Wolfram and Thomas 2002) use data from a “longstanding, relatively isolated, biracial community“ (Wolfram, Thomas and Green 2000: 316) in Hyde County, North Carolina. The English(es) spoken there by different generations of both black and white residents should “provide insight into the extent to which earlier AAVE shared in local dialect patterning” (Thomas and Green 2000: 316). The third group in this category are former slaves who were sent to Liberia in the 19th century. John Singler (e.g. Singler 1989) analyzes their descendants’ speech (Liberian Settler English), assuming that they have preserved some traits of Earlier AAVE up to the present. What is interesting in this context is that this variety of Earlier AAVE has the strongest resemblances to creoles. 2.4.

Private correspondence

The last group of sources are collections of letters written by African Americans in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Although it is likely that there is a multitude of letter collections slumbering in US archives, the linguistic analysis of this type of source has been fairly limited. The sources analyzed so far are samples from the Federal Bureau Letters (FBL) published in Berlin et al. (1982, 1985, 1990, 1993), letters of former slaves who had been freed to Liberia (Wiley 1980) and of a slave family from Alabama, who partly migrated to Liberia (Miller 1978). (Letters from the latter two sources will be referred to as LAL in this article). Finally, there is a collection of letters from freed blacks who settled in Sierra Leone (Fyfe 1991; Sierra Leone Settler English, SLSE). Especially when using letters as linguistic data some caution is necessary because literacy was the exception with African Americans at that time. Montgomery (1999) suggests that only writers who are obviously struggling with the written medium should be used as linguistic informants. Nonetheless, it is likely that certain linguistic features do not occur in written correspondence, either because of the limited size of the respective sources or because of norms that prevent or reduce non-standard forms in writing (cf. Kautzsch 2002: 253).

3.

Core issues in Earlier AAVE morphology and syntax

This section surveys the features of Earlier AAVE studied most intensively, as well as a selection of less prominent realms of the grammar useful for cross-variety comparison. Although this handbook seeks to provide primarily qualitative information on morpho-syntax, it is hardly possible to describe (Earlier) AAVE without mentioning quantitative distributions of linguistic features because it is mainly the proportional occurrence of variants that distinguishes (Earlier) AAVE

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from other varieties of English. From a merely qualitative point of view, Earlier AAVE has to offer only a few unique items, such as zero copula or ain’t for didn’t. The most prominent “distinctive” features of present-day AAVE – such as remote been, habitual be + V-ing, or the camouflaged forms come and steady – seem to be innovations established in the 20th century (cf. 1; Wolfram, this volume). The whole section will show that on the one hand AAVE has come a long way in terms of internal diachronic evolution, on the other it needs to be kept in mind that at every stage there was a considerable amount of synchronic internal variation, implying that Earlier AAVE cannot have been a monolithic whole at any stage, but rather consisted of a bundle of varieties ranging from more or less creolized ones to fairly close approximations to white dialects. (cf. Kautzsch and Schneider 2000 for a detailed account of “differential creolization” in Earlier AAVE exemplified by ESN data from South Carolina). 3.1.

Verb morphology and tense/aspect

At the center of present tense morphology there is the highly variable presence of verbal -s. It occurs in all persons, but is never required. The primary grammatical person for verbal -s is 3rd singular, but it might also occur frequently in 1st and 3rd plural, with hierarchies of the plural contexts changing from source to source. (cf. Poplack and Tagliamonte 2001: 186; Schneider 1989: 69). What is more, even the constraints on or the conditions for its appearance differ widely. As far as phonological conditioning is concerned, some sources (e.g. ESN) revealed that after sibilants verbal -s tends to be omitted (he wish), while vowels and other consonants don’t show a pattern, in others (ANSE, SE) vowels tend to favor verbal -s (he goes) and consonants tend to disfavor it (she run) (Schneider 1989: 70; Poplack and Tagliamonte 2001: 188–190). The type of subject might also have an effect on the occurrence of verbal -s. Noun phrase subjects – as opposed to pronoun subjects – sometimes favor verbal -s (the woman speaks, he speak) (SE, ANSE, FBL; Poplack and Tagliamonte 2001; Montgomery and Fuller 1996, FBL), however, this effect can be irrelevant, too (Hyde County elderly African Americans [Wolfram, Thomas, and Green 2000: 336-337]). In some varieties of earlier AAVE verbal -s is more likely to occur when the respective subject does not immediately precede the verb (i.e. when the two are non-adjacent; the man who is ... speaks). Sometimes this effect can be seen with pronoun subjects only, sometimes also with noun phrases (Montgomery and Fuller 1996; Poplack and Tagliamonte 2001). Finally, in some sources (SE and ANSE; not: FBL) verbal -s is favored in habitual context (she always speaks) (Poplack and Tagliamonte 2001; Montgomery and Fuller 1996). Past-reference verbs in Earlier AAVE can either be morphologically marked for past tense or appear as stem forms. On the whole, scholars agree that the majority is in fact overtly marked, either by the attachment of the past tense suffix -ed

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– sometimes involving nonstandard regularization as in knowed – or by means of irregular past tense forms. (Schneider 1989: 81, ESN; Poplack and Tagliamonte 2001: 118, ANSE; Montgomery 1999: 11, SLSE). Here, the conditions for explicit past marking are again quite variable. SLSE, in the first place, does not display clear conditioning effects at all (Montgomery 1999: 11). In those sources which do, the major constraint seems to be the phonetic context: before and after consonants the unmarked stem is clearly favored (she talk to ... yesterday) (Poplack and Tagliamonte 2001: 125-126; Schneider 1989: 81). In addition, in some varieties (SE and ANSE; not ESR) habitual aspect might have promoted -ed deletion (my dad chop wood every...) (Poplack and Tagliamonte 2001: 124, 127). The second group of past-reference verbs are those which do not (only) form the past tense by means of the suffix -ed. There is a large number of nonstandard forms that involve consonant cluster reduction (kep’, tol’), devoicing of final /d/ (killt, turnt), double marking (stoled), invariable base form (run as past tense), past and participle switch (drunk as past tense), and nonstandard vowel change (brung) (Schneider 1989: 90–91). Again, it seems that the majority of past-reference irregular verbs appear in their marked form. SLSE has only 12% of zero past tense marking (Montgomery 1999: 11). Poplack and Tagliamonte’s (2001: 118) figures for stem forms in past contexts with strong verbs range from 23% (ESR; Samaná; North Preston, Nova Scotia) to 27% (Gaynesborough Enclave, Nova Scotia). When unmarked forms are used with past reference, however, they are likely to appear either with verbs that use their stem forms as participles (come), or in habitual contexts (Poplack and Tagliamonte 2001: 132). The formation of present perfect and past perfect by means of have/had + past participle is basically identical to other varieties (Schneider 1989: 114, 117). Earlier AAVE can also delete have in structures like have been + V-ing/past participle (I been making ... / I been hit by ...). One somewhat striking but rare phenomenon in this section is that been + Vinf (he been stay in de swamp) can be used for past reference – equivalent to Standard English past tense or past perfect. From a structural point of view, this feature is similar to present-day AAVE’s remote stressed been, but in Earlier AAVE the action denoted does not have to be remote (Schneider 1989: 114–120). In addition, perfective aspect can be expressed by done + past participle (or rarely Vinf) as in I done told you, She done write with both present and past as reference points. Done can also be preceded by a form of be or have to mark present or past tense, respectively (He is done gone / I had done quit) (Schneider 1989: 121–124). Progressive aspect in Earlier AAVE has not received wide attention, but seems to be identical to Standard English. In connection to this, prefix a- before V-ing (I’m a-huntin’) is a fairly stable feature, which only occurs on a very limited basis in present-day AAVE (Schneider 1989: 143-148).

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What we know about the expression of future events in Earlier AAVE so far is that both will and going to (gonna) future are the two main variants of about equal frequency, while present simple and progressive have only minority status (Poplack and Tagliamonte 2001: 218–234; SE and ANSE). As far as constraints on the usage of will vs. going to are concerned, it seems that the latter is favored in future-in-the-past and in subordinate clauses, is avoided with verbs of motion, and does not imply proximity of future action, as is the case in other varieties of English (Poplack and Tagliamonte 2001: 227). Finally, it needs to be mentioned that three of the four features that play a central role in the description of present-day AAVE are clearly innovations of the 20th century, namely the high frequency of invariant be before V-ing (he be waking up at nine) and the infamous aspectual markers come (for indignation; they come talking that trash) and steady (continuative; she be steady stepping in there). The existence of the fourth feature, habitual be (We be here every day), in Earlier AAVE is somewhat disputed. Some data, but definitely not all, suggest that habitual uses of be might have developed in or before the 19th century. 3.2.

The copula in Earlier AAVE

This section surveys the most prominent type of auxiliary of Earlier AAVE: the copula be. In principle, this variety of English has the choice between using an overt form of the copula, viz. the full forms am, are, is or the contracted forms ‘m, ‘re, ‘s, or not (zero Ø). Since zero copula is relatively rare (< 15%) with first person singular subjects, copula analyses mostly deal with the forms of are and is. Comparing a variety of sources, zero is seems to be quantitatively stable in spoken Earlier AAVE (13%24%), while zero are has relative wide margins across sources (31%-71%). In letters the copula is rarely absent (< 2%), and in fact occurs near-categorically in its full form (Montgomery 1999: 9; Kautzsch 2002: 238). The varying degree of copula absence is closely connected to the type of subject preceding it and the type of grammatical item following it, but also to the phonetic context. As far as subject type is concerned, personal pronouns favor copula absence over noun phrase subjects, at least in spoken sources (she running; the woman’s/is running). (cf. Kautzsch 2002: 242-243 on letters). The grammatical categories that can follow after the copula are gonna, V-ing, adjectives, locatives and noun phrases. In most sources copula absence is most frequent with the two verbal complements gonna (he gonna go to...) and V-ing (he running) and least likely with noun phrases (he’s/is a man). Adjectives (she’s/is/Ø pretty) and locatives (he’s/is/Ø in the house) are intermediate and their relative impact on copula absence varies greatly across sources. (For details see Rickford 1998; Kautzsch 2002; amongst others). In addition, the phonetic environment has some influence on the form of the copula, too: a preceding consonant favors the full form of is

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(the cat is ...), a preceding vowel promotes contraction (she’s...). A following consonant favors zero is (he Ø bad), while a following vowel equally favors full and contracted is (this man ‘s/is awful) (Kautzsch 2002: 133-134). The copula in past tense environments is overtly realized as was or were in most cases. Past tense copula absence (“... hadn’ bought his check, I’d car’y him free, ‘cause he Ø so sca’ed.’ I like ter vomited.” Simon Hare; Rawick 1977: 921) is the exception (Kautzsch 2002:93). As regards the usage of was and were, some varieties of Earlier AAVE (e.g. ANSE) exhibit was leveling, i.e. was is the predominant form in standard werecontexts. Moreover, elderly African Americans in Horry County, NC, for example, level was (you was ...) in positive constructions and weren’t (he weren’t ...) in negative ones, which is clearly a reflex of the white vernacular in that region (Wolfram, Thomas and Green 2000). 3.3.

Negation

Negation in Earlier AAVE is in principle very similar to other non-standard varieties of English. Full verb negation is mostly achieved by means of don’t/doesn’t/ didn’t. The norm for present tense copula negation is clearly ain’t, although some sources also display some amount of am/are/is + not. The past tense copula forms are mostly wasn’t/weren’t. Present tense perfectives can be negated both by ain’t and to a lesser degree by its standard counterpart haven’t/hasn’t. Notice, however, that differences across sources can be great. With past tense perfectives had’t seems to occur categorically (Kautzsch 2002: 44). What is special about Earlier AAVE is the (rare) usage of ain’t as a full verb negator, i.e. as an alternative for both don’t/doesn’t (“I hop’ ya ain’t wanna kno’ much mo’ ‘cause I ‘bout through.” [Perdue, Barden and Phillips 1976: 210]) and didn’t (“...but ah have went all ovah the house. An’ ah ain’t see nothin’. Like no kinda machine or nothin’.” [Hyatt 1970–1978: 4565]) (cf. Schneider 1989; Kautzsch 2002). Moreover, ain’t + past participle can also occur in non-perfective past tense contexts (“Marse Fleming ain’t cared how much we dance, but ole overseer would raise de debbil.” [Perdue, Barden and Phillips 1976: 224]) (Schneider 1989: 201–202; Kautzsch 2002: 44). Interestingly, in letters (LAL, FBL) ain’t does not occur at all, which might be a reflex of the impact of some amount of literacy on writing (Kautzsch 2002: 226). Of course, in combination with indeterminate items like anything/nothing/never and the like, Earlier AAVE makes use of all kinds of negative transfer (negative concord, negative attraction, negative postposing). Negative concord (or multiple negation), where a negative element is present both in the predicate and in an indeterminate item (I don’t know nothing), is clearly preferred over the standard pattern (I don’t know anything) (Schneider 1989: 192; Kautzsch 2002: 62). In letters, however, the reverse is true (LAL, FBL; Kautzsch 2002: 227).

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In negative attraction the negative is transferred from the predicate to a preverbal indeterminate (Nobody knows it; I never saw...). This pattern is the norm in Earlier AAVE, but its nonstandard counterpart, where the negative indeterminate is followed by a negated predicate (“No white folks didn’t leave me nothing but de wide world.” [Perdue, Barden, and Phillips 1976: 77] “A dirt dauber got a wisdom dat yo’ an’ yore mother nevah ain’t learnt.” [Hyatt 1970–1978: 1329]), also occurs, though only as a minority variant (Kautzsch 2002: 78). Personal letters only contain the standard patterns (LAL, FBL; Kautzsch 2002: 230). A peculiar construction in connection with preverbal never, is the usage of did + Vinf sometimes replacing the past tense form of the predicate (“We never did pay him, ‘cause we ain’t never had nothin’.” [Perdue, Barden, and Phillips 1976: 14; Kautzsch 2002: 81]). Finally, negative postposing is also very frequent, with negation being expressed in a postverbal indeterminate (“In wah times a man wuz no more den a varmint.” [Rawick 1977: 1347]). In instances with preverbal never the negative element tends to be repeated in an indeterminate, resulting in something like a mixture between negative attraction and negative postposing (“He never had no children.” [Hyatt 1970–1978: 912; Kautzsch 2002: 82]). 3.4.

Relativization

Earlier AAVE has basically the same relativizers as Standard English: who, which, whom, whose, that, and zero (i.e. relative marker deletion) when it is not the subject of the relative clause (the man Ø I saw; the man Ø I gave the book to). In spoken sources, however, the wh-relativizers – especially whom and whose – occur only to a very limited extent. In addition, there are two frequent non-standard usages, namely zero in subject position (The man Ø came round the corner was my daddy) and what (The man what came around the corner...). Interestingly, the latter is virtually absent from written correspondence. Finally, some sources contain the (marginal) usage of that which (“But these, these little fellahs that which had stayed befo’ God prayin’, they didn’t go an’ drink the wine ...” [Hyatt 1970–1978: 4718]) and non-spatial where as relative markers (“My father was one o de founders o’ de Underground Railroad where help de slaves to run way to de North ...” [Perdue, Barden, and Phillips 1976: 17; cf. Kautzsch 2002: 172]). As all other kinds of variables, relative marker choice can also be due to a variety of factors. The number one criterion obviously is the syntactic function of the relative marker. It appears that – at least in spoken sources – zero and that tend to be preferred in non-subject (The man Ø I saw) and subject position (The man that came ...), respectively, while what is not favored in either. In written sources of private correspondence that is first choice both as subject and non-subject (Kautzsch 2002: 244). Further constraints are the humanness or non-humanness of the antecedent as well as its grammatical category (such as pronoun, definite or indefinite noun

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phrase), and also the adjacency or non-adjacency of the relative marker to its referent. Table 1 (cf. Kautzsch 2002: 210, 252) surveys these for spoken sources. Items printed in bold type are those on which spoken and written sources agree. Table 1.

Constraints on the choice of that, what and zero

subject that

adjacent, non-human, definite NPs/pronouns

subject what

adjacent, human, definite NPs/pronouns

subject zero

non-adjacent, human, indefinite NPs

non-subject that

adjacent, human

non-subject what

non-adjacent, non-human, (definite/indefinite) NPs

non-subject zero

adjacent pronouns

3.5.

Noun morphology: plurals and possessives

In principle, plural marking is very similar to Standard English. There is regular pluralization by means of the suffix -s and irregular plural marking. What is special here, again, is that the plural suffix -s is variably present in regular nouns. Interestingly, rates for plural marker absence have a fairly wide range from 2% to 40% across sources. And the conditions for unmarked plurals are also highly variable. What seems to be a very important constraint are other indications of plurality in the noun phrase. Numerals and other types of quantifiers, such as plural demonstratives (these) or items like all or many might have a favoring effect on zero plural (ESN, Schneider 1989; SE, ANSE, ESR, Poplack, Tagliamonte and Eze 2000; SLSE, Montgomery 1999). The phonetic context may also play a role, with slight tendencies towards zero plural before and after consonants. But variation is still considerable (SE, ANSE, ESR, Poplack, Tagliamonte and Eze 2000: 83). What is definitely at work in Earlier AAVE is a tendency for particular lexemes to remain unmarked for plural. But again, different sources have different preferences: head, mile, and year are on top of the ESN list for non-marking (Schneider 1989: 153), and so are time and day for ANSE, SE and ESR, where year, on the contrary, favors overt plural marking. As regards plural formation of Standard English irregular nouns, there are three possibilities in Earlier AAVE. The first is to use a regularized form instead of an irregular one (mans), the second to attach plural -s to the irregular form (mens), which is called double marking, or finally to use the unmarked form (man), with the latter possibly being the most popular amongst the non-standard forms. On the whole, there is a high degree of variation once more, ranging from the occurrence of very few isolated standard forms (goose and ox in ESN, Schneider 1989: 159) to a relatively stable standard majority (59% in SLSE, Montgomery 1999: 16).

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The second inflectional suffix on nouns in Earlier AAVE is genitive -s. It has only been studied by Schneider (1989: 162–167), who reports that its absence is rare both in ESN (9,3%) and ESR (10,3%). The only favoring effect for zero genitive seems to be a preceding sibilant. 3.6.

Pronominal system

Personal, possessive and reflexive pronouns are briefly surveyed in Table 2 (ESN, reproduced from Schneider 1989: 170–174).

Table 2. Personal, possessive and reflexive pronouns of Earlier AAVE pronouns

singular

plural

1st person

I, me (rare)

we, us, we‘uns, we-all

2nd person

you, you all (very rare)

you, you all, youse all, you‘uns

masc: he, him, hims (the latter two are rare) fem: she, her (rare) neuter: it, hit

they/dey

my, me

our, us

2 person

your (orth. variation)

your, you (very rare), you’s (very rare)

3rd person

masc: his, he, him, hims fem: her, she (very rare) neuter: its, hits

their, they

mine

our‘n, ours

personal

rd

3 person

possessive 1st person nd

absolute forms 1st person nd

yourn

rd

hisn, his, hern, hers

2 person 3 person reflexive 1st person

myself

ourselfs, ourself, us ownse’fs

nd

yourself

youahseves

rd

himself, hisself, his own self, hese’f, herself, itself

theyselves, dey ownse’fs, theirselves, themselves (very rare)

2 person 3 person

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In some sources it might be likely to encounter isolated cases of creole forms, such as he with female reference, or we both as personal (subject and object) and possessive pronoun (ESR, Schneider 1989: 175; note, however, that the informant is Wallace Quarterman, a native speaker of Gullah.). Demonstrative pronouns are this and these for near reference, sometimes used in combination with here. For distant reference that and them are the norm. Those occurs only rarely (Schneider 1989: 174–175). A very widespread pattern in the realm of pronouns is pronominal apposition, in which a noun phrase is immediately followed by a pronoun (Marse Peter he makes a speech.). This feature seems to be favored by definite human noun phrases in subject position and is almost exclusively restricted to 3rd person contexts (Schneider 1989: 186−191).

4.

Major issues in current research

The three main interests in current research are the discovery and validation of sources that might represent earlier stages of AAVE (see section 2 above), quantitative analyses to prove or disprove creole and/or British dialect connections, and – closely related to this – the investigation of the divergence claim. This section surveys the latter two. The origins of AAVE “loom large in the discussion of the development of African-American Vernacular English” (Rickford 1998: 154). Traditionally, creolists and dialectologists had opposing views. The former held that AAVE started out as a full-fledged creole similar to the ones spoken, for example, in the Caribbean today, while the latter saw AAVE just as a dialect of English which the newly arrived slaves acquired from their masters or the white people they worked with. (References for both views appear on the CD-ROM.) This dichotomy is, however, not a categorical one. The dialectologists have never “excluded the possibility of a previous creole stage of Black English, especially with respect to the initial stages of slavery, nor have they denied the existence of African or creole remnants in the present-day dialect” (Schneider 1989: 25). On the contrary, most creolists admit that some influence of white speech on black “is clearly to be expected, but the degree and importance of this influence is thought to be relatively limited” (Schneider 1989: 25). The topicality of this debate is exemplarily reflected in two recently published volumes: Rickford (1999) represents a moderate version of the creolists’ view, Poplack (2000) and associates aim at documenting the “English History of African-American English”. It seems that varying opinions towards the development of AAVE are strongly a matter of degree and largely depend on the focus of the respective investigation. Rickford (1998: 189) argues “that at least some of the predecessors of modern AAVE arose from a restructuring process similar to that

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which produced the English-based creoles” (my emphasis). Quite differently, the group around Poplack emphasizes that the development of the grammatical core of present-day AAVE is entirely English. To some extent, the two approaches are complementary. Taken together, AAVE developed out of an English grammatical core, but has been steadily reshaped – at least in fringe sections of its grammar – by creole or substrate influences from outside or by creolization or imperfect second language learning from within. What is necessary to put at the center of the discussion, however, is to realize that AAVE used to be much more heterogeneous in its early days than it is today (cf. Mufwene 2000; Kautzsch and Schneider 2000); and an integrative approach that takes into account both sides is most likely to deliver the most accurate assessment of the status and the evolution of AAVE. The second big issue is the claim that present-day AAVE is structurally becoming more and more different from other varieties of English, which is usually referred to as the “divergence hypothesis” (For references see CD-ROM.) From a socio-political point of view, divergence means that, although attempts have been made to integrate black people into mainstream US society, the segregation of the ethnic groups in the US is still great. On the other hand, this tendency can also be seen as “part of a symbolic statement of today’s young people of awareness and pride of their African American identity” (Rickford 1999: Preface xiii). The central linguistic features that are assumed to be divergent – which means that they are proportionally increasing in number – are invariant be, the deletion of third singular and possessive -s and of the copula. On the contrary, some features are also reported to remain stable or in fact converge with the white ones, as for example plural and past marking. (For a tabular survey of stable, converging and diverging features cf. Wolfram’s survey in this volume.) As far as methods are concerned, it is necessary to “go back in time, both to the historical records and as far as possible to all of the other available evidence to see what was going on” (Rickford 1997: 60). This brings us back to one of the central statements of this article: what we can learn about Earlier AAVE is only as good as the sources we use.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Berlin, Ira, Joseph R. Reidy and Leslie S. Rowland 1982 Freedom. A Documentary History of Emancipation, 1861–1867. Series II. The Black Military Experience. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Berlin, Ira, Barbara J. Fields, Thavolia Glymph, Joseph R. Reidy and Leslie S. Rowland 1985 Freedom. A Documentary History of Emancipation, 1861–1867. Series I, Vol. I. The Destruction of Slavery. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Berlin, Ira, Thavolia Glymph, Steven F. Miller, Joseph R. Reidy, Leslie S. Rowland and Julie Saville 1990 Freedom. A Documentary History of Emancipation, 1861–1867. Series I, Vol. III. The Wartime Genesis of Free Labor: The Lower South. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Berlin, Ira, Steven F. Miller, Joseph R. Reidy and Leslie S. Rowland 1993 Freedom. A Documentary History of Emancipation, 1861–1867. Series I, Vol. II. The Wartime Genesis of Free Labor: The Upper South. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Fyfe, Christopher (ed.) 1991 “Our Children Free and Happy”: Letters from Black Settlers in Africa in the 1790s. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Hyatt, Harry Middleton 1970–1978 Hoodoo – Witchcraft – Conjuration – Rootwork. Vol. 1.–5. Washington: The Alma Egan Hyatt Foundation. Kautzsch, Alexander 2002 The Historical Evolution of Earlier African American English. An Empirical Comparison of Early Sources. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Kautzsch, Alexander and Edgar W. Schneider 2000 Differential creolization: Some evidence from Earlier African American Vernacular English in South Carolina. In: Neumann-Holzschuh and Schneider (eds.), 247–274. Miller, Randall M. 1978 “Dear Master.” Letters of a Slave Family. Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press. Montgomery, Michael 1999 Eighteenth-Century Sierra Leone English: Another exported variety of African American English. English World-Wide 20: 1–35. Montgomery, Michael and Janet M. Fuller 1996 What was verbal -s in 19th century African American English? In: Schneider (ed.), 211–230. Mufwene, Salikoko 2000 Some sociohistorical inferences about the development of African American English. In: Poplack (ed.), 233–263. Perdue, Charles L., Thomas E. Barden and Robert K. Phillips 1976 Weevils in the Wheat: Interviews with Virginia Ex-slaves. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia [Reprinted 1992]. Poplack, Shana, Sali Tagliamonte and Ejike Eze 2000 Reconstructing the source of Early African American English plural marking: A comparative study of English and Creole. In: Poplack (ed.), 73–105. Rawick, George P. (ed.) 1972 The American Slave: A Composite Autobiography. 19 vols. Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood.

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Rickford, John R. 1997 Prior creolization of African-American Vernacular English? Sociohistorical and textual evidence from the 17th and 18th centuries. Journal of Sociolinguistics 1: 315–336. [Reprinted in Rickford and Romaine (eds.), 233–251.] 1998 The creole origins of African-American vernacular English: Evidence from copula absence. In: Mufwene, Rickford, Bailey and Baugh (eds.), 154–200. Singler, John V. 1989 Plural marking in Liberian Settler English, 1820–1980. American Speech 64: 40–64. Wiley, Bell I. 1980 Slaves No More. Letters from Liberia 1833–1869. The University Press of Kentucky. Winford, Donald 1997 On the origins of African American Vernacular English – A creolist perspective. Part I: The sociohistorical background. Diachronica 14: 305–344. Wolfram, Walt, Eric R. Thomas and Elaine W. Green 2000 The regional context of earlier African American speech: Evidence for reconstructing the development of AAVE. Language in Society 29: 315–355.

Gullah: morphology and syntax* Salikoko S. Mufwene

1.

Introduction

Gullah is one of the offspring of English spoken primarily among descendants of Africans on the coastal marshlands and islands of South Carolina and Georgia in the United States. Like its speakers, it has also been identified by the derogative name Geechee. Linguists have characterized it as a creole, and even stipulated it to be a separate language, but to its native speakers and this author, it is as much English as other nonstandard dialects that evolved concurrently with it. These include African American vernacular English (AAVE, spoken among African Americans elsewhere), Appalachian English, and Old Amish English, among others which are also socially stigmatized. A reason commonly invoked to set Gullah apart from other North American English varieties is that it is not intelligible to speakers of other English varieties. However, mutual intelligibility is not a reliable criterion for determining whether a particular language variety is a dialect of a language or a separate language. Besides, there are numerous English dialects that are not intelligible to many other speakers, including the classic case of Cockney, which nobody has ever claimed to be a separate language. Another reason is that Gullah is contact-based, as is putatively made evident by the several structural features it shares with Caribbean English creoles, as illustrated in section 2. However, the history of European immigrations to English North America suggests that all English varieties that developed in the relevant colonies are contact-based (Mufwene 2001). It is also highly debatable whether creoles can be characterized as a special type of languages based on their typological features alone and whether, in the first place, the features they share are due primarily to the non-English contributions to their developments. Linguists have generally professed to following the sentiments of native speakers in determining whether a particular variety is a dialect or a separate language. Ironically, the same principle has not been followed in the case of creoles (and pidgins). Linguists have typically disregarded the fact that most of their users say they speak English (albeit a nonstandard and stigmatized variety) or any other relevant European language. Gullah and the like can very well be considered disfranchised varieties of Germanic and other Indo-European languages. Unlike its sister AAVE, whose origins can be associated with the tobacco and cotton plantations of the American southeast, Gullah developed on the large South

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Carolinian and Georgian coastal rice fields of the early 18th century, a few decades after the first British colonists and their African slaves settled in Charleston, from Barbados, in 1670. The earliest written attestations of it date from the early 19th century, in William Gilmore Simms’ The book of my lady (1833), although there are reports in 18th-century colonial newspapers of some runaway slaves speaking “broken” English, especially those who had been on the plantations for a few months only. Given all the negative attitudes toward Africans since the beginnings of the American colonization by the English, the fact that Gullah remained undocumented for so long—although it must have started diverging from other American Southern English varieties in the early 18th century—reflects a number of factors, including the following: (1) American English has always been spoken variably among (descendants of) Africans, as among (those of) Europeans. Interpreted as a continuum of basilectal and lower mesolectal varieties relative to the national or some regional standard variety, Gullah is not spoken by all the native coastal African Americans identified by the same name, not any more than AAVE can be associated with all African Americans in other parts of the USA, or southern English with all White Southerners. (2) During the earlier colonial times, especially during the 17th century, most of the locally-born African Americans must have spoken like the locally-born White Americans with whom they grew up and interacted regularly in the same homestead. Before major plantations had developed, the Africans were generally minorities, the societies were not rigidly segregated, and all adults joined efforts to survive the harsh challenges of life in their new physical ecology. Note that the earliest forms of colonial English must have been as proletarian as most of their European speakers, who were often destitute and from the lowest ranks of the European societies. (3) As observed in Mufwene (2001), Gullah as an ethnolect spoken by a significant proportion of locally born descendants of Africans was probably not identifiable as a distinct variety before the second quarter of the 18th century, after the rice plantations increased in size and number. Then, their slave labor increased more by importation than by birth (Wood 1974; Edgar 1998), the population turnover was rapid, and language was being transmitted to learners more from non-native than from native speakers. This fostered more and more room for substrate elements to influence Gullah’s divergence away from other American southern varieties, although in many, if not most, cases the influence meant favoring particular variants of colonial English that would be disfavored in the other varieties. For instance, this appears to have been the case in the selection of preverbal duhz/does [d´z] as a marker of habitual activities, as in how you duhz cook hog maw?, of preverbal duh [d´] as the

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durative marker, and of the pronunciations of bear and carry as [bIE] and [kya:] respectively. Specifics about how the divergent restructuring proceeded away from other varieties remain as controversial as regarding the development of creoles in general. The traditional explanation in terms of language contact raises more interesting questions than it provides conclusive answers to them. The attribution of its divergence to the particular influence of the Black African languages that had been spoken by the slaves who developed it (Turner 1949) would be less controversial if the African languages were typologically homogeneous and if one did not have to account for the competition and selection mechanisms that favor some particular substrate influences over other competitors. While substrate influence seems obvious, determining how it prevailed, and whether it could have done so if there had not been particular congruent features in colonial English itself remain open questions (Mufwene 2001).

2.

Gullah and Atlantic Creoles

Gullah has been identified as a Creole for a number of reasons, chiefly because it evolved under socio-economic conditions similar to other new nonstandard vernaculars of the Atlantic and Indian Oceans called creoles. As noted above, it also shares several structural features with these vernaculars. Moreover, its primary speakers are of African descent, just like those of the other vernaculars previously identified as creoles. However, the term creole itself is unknown to its speakers and has not been used locally in the histories of South Carolina and of Georgia to designate either the locally born populations of non-indigenous stock or this new language variety. It was assigned to Gullah, as to other such English vernaculars, by linguists, on the mistaken assumption that creoles have evolved by nativization from erstwhile pidgins. This assumption is supported by no shred of evidence from the socio-economic histories of the territories where creoles and pidgins developed, viz., settlement and trade colonies, respectively (Mufwene 2001). Among the features that Gullah shares with other Atlantic English creoles are the following, some of which are discussed more informatively in Part 3: 1) extensive use of preverbal free morphemes, rather than verbal inflections for tense and aspect (e.g. bin for past or past of past, go/ga [g´] for future, duh [d´] for progressive, and done ‘finish’ for perfect); 2) partial gender and case distinctions in the pronominal systems (thus him is used for all three genders and is used both as object and subject); 3) use of say not only as in English but also as a complementizer (e.g. we hear say you gone to da city ‘we heard that you [were] gone to the city’); 4) use of fuh [f´] (from English for) as a non-factive complementizer (as in we tell um fuh come ‘we told him to come’); 5) modal use of fuh (as in Fonzo bin fuh

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come ‘Fonzo had/was expected to come’); 6) extensive use of serial verb/predicate constructions (as in come kyah me to d’hospital ‘come and take me to the hospital’); 7) use of an invariant relativizer weh derived from what (and perhaps also relativizer uses of where) in nonstandard English; 8) nonindividuated nouns for generic or mass reference (as in kyat don eat raw tato ‘a cat does not eat raw potato’ or ‘cats don’t eat raw potato’); 9) common usage of the associative plural (as in Sara dem very nice people ‘Sara and her family/friends/associates are very nice people’); 10) predicate cleft (as duh talk he duh talk! ‘he is really talking!’); and 11) similar pronunciations of words such as oil [ayl], cat [kyat], fair [fyE:], variable stopping of interdental fricatives, and variable [b] or [B] pronunciations of /v/ and /w/ (as in [BErI BEl] ‘very well’). Some of these similarities are only partial and in fact there is no fixed set of features that a vernacular must have of necessity to be identified as a creole. For instance, 1) Gullah has an indefinite article a (pronounced only as [´]) where other English creoles use the singular quantifier one; 2) it actually has a schwa (which is not attested in Caribbean creoles); 3) it uses prenominal dem (as in dem boy) both with the meaning ‘those boys’ and the meaning ‘the boys’, whereas Jamaican Creole uses prenominal dem for the plural demonstrative meaning only and has di + Noun + dem for definite plural; 4) it has a wider set of negators (aint, don, and narrow-scope no within a noun phrase) where Jamaican Creole, for instance, uses only no; 5) it has a special habitual marker duhz, which only Guyanese Creole has been reported to have (in the form of doz, because it has no schwa); and 6) it also has the option of using tuh/to [t´] (often voiced to [d´]) to introduce non-factive verb phrases (e.g., Uh start duh run ‘I started to run’), as well as 7) that of omitting the complementizer fuh or tuh after the verbs want, start, and try (as in Uh try tell um ‘I tried to tell him’). Gullah shares some of these features that distinguish it from other English creoles with AAVE and neighboring White English vernaculars, for instance uses of: 1) prenominal dem for plural demonstratives; 2) aint as a negator in contexts where standard English would use did not or have/has not in full or contracted form; 3) an indefinite article a which need not become an when the noun starts with a vowel; 4) yall as a more common second person plural pronoun (instead of unu/una which is not the dominant variant in other Atlantic creoles either); and 5) invariant be for repeated states of affairs (as he be so sick/ staring at me). One can actually also argue that Gullah is a subvariety of African American English spoken where there used to be rice fields, or that it is a separate ethnolect that is structurally between AAVE and Caribbean English creoles. There is no clear structural boundary between Gullah and AAVE. Mufwene (2001) claims that both can be considered regional varieties of African American English, with the former confined to coastal South Carolina and Georgia. In more or less the same spirit, Kautzsch and Schneider (2000) argue for a geographical continuum in which “creole” features decrease as one proceeds inland. Similarities and dif-

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ferences between AAVE, Gullah, and Caribbean creoles have hotly been debated since the 1960s. Differences between Gullah and other Atlantic/Caribbean English creoles have been used to argue that Gullah has “decreolized,” in the sense of losing some illusory common basilect of all English creoles, in the direction of American middle class English. AAVE would putatively be farther along on this trajectory. However, the evolution of English in North America has not been uniform, largely reflecting variation in the patterns of earliest settlements (Founder Effect) and in later population growth. Further, heeding Labov and Harris (1986), some linguists have concluded that since the early 20th century AAVE has been diverging from White Southern English, with which it shares origins (e.g., Bailey and Cukor-Avila forthcoming). Recent forceful arguments for the English origins of several African American English features can be found in, for instance, Poplack (2000). The ongoing divergence is due to decreasing social contacts between White and African Americans and the fact that language also functions as a marker of identity within both ethnic groups. In other words, Gullah and AAVE seem to have emerged as distinct varieties from other American (nonstandard) English vernaculars in the way hypothesized by Chaudenson (2001) and Mufwene (2001) for creoles in general, viz., basilectalizing away from their colonial kin varieties spoken by (descendants of) Europeans, to which they were structurally closer in the earlier stages. Thus the above similarities and differences, as well as others not discussed here or in the literature, suggest the following conclusions: Gullah developed from English varieties similar to those that evolved into Caribbean English creoles. The family resemblance between them, as among all creoles that developed from the “same” European language, are attributable to ecological differences that favored varying selections into each creole’s system from similar pools of competing variants. The ecologies include, among other factors: the times of settlements, the rates of population growth, the extent of ethnolinguistic diversity and the demographic strengths of particular groups at various colonial stages (especially within the substrate population), inter-group relations, proportions of Europeans and non-Europeans, and time of segregation since the founding of the colony (Mufwene 2001). A number of recurring elements from one setting to another, compounded with convergent shifts to (varieties of) the same language, account for the similarities.

3.

Gullah’s structures

This part focuses on various morphosyntactic features that have been discussed by various scholars, mostly myself, since Turner’s (1949) pioneering and seminal linguistics study. Unfortunately none of them will be cited here. More interested readers can consult dissertations and publications since the 1970s by Irma

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Cunningham, Patricia Jones-Jackson, Patricia Nichols, Katherine Mille, Tometro Hopkins, Tracey Weldon, and myself (listed in the comprehensive bibliography on CD.) Space limitations naturally constrain both the number of grammatical peculiarities discussed below and the depth of the discussions themselves. Examples are from my own fieldwork data, some cited with informant initials and the year of fieldwork. There are many ways in which Gullah has preserved structures that are English, for instance, the basic major constituent order in a sentence is Noun Phrase (NP) + Verb Phrase (VP), although the rule that inverts the order of the subject NP and an auxiliary verb in interrogative main clauses does not apply. Questions are typically marked by intonation, especially those starting with a wh-phrase or aint ([Eyn(t)], [E)], [InI] < aint it), as in Ain/Inni you see Al yes’day? ‘Didn’t you see Al yesterday?’ (literally, ‘Isn’t it true/the case that you saw Al yesterday?’). In such a sentence aint/inni has scope over the whole sentence, in more or less the same way as the French n’est pas que does, as in N’est-ce pas que tu as vu Al hier? The other kind of negative question, which happens to have the same surface structure in non-creole English would be You ain see Al yes’day? The wider scope aint/inni can co-occur with another ain or any other negator inside the sentence, as in Ain you ain see Al yes’day? ‘Isn’t it true/the case that you didn’t see Al yesterday?’ or Aint you don buy grits? ‘Isn’t it the case that you don’t buy grits?’. The object NP still follows the verb, and within the NP, the order is still Det(erminer) + Adj(ective) + N(oun) + Modifying clause. Gullah strands prepositions and does not pied-pipe them, just like nonstandard English dialects, in which constructions such as the boy to whom I spoke are not typical. And indeed it has prepositions and no postpositions. It has also preserved the category Adj, though adjectives are used without a copula in the predicative function, as in Robert very tall or Robert taller ‘n Faye or April more puhty ‘April [is] prettier’. Substrate influence can be identified in some details of the grammar, such as the complete obliteration of Subject + Verb Concord, uses of the same pronominal forms in subject and possessive functions, and uses of done pre- or post-verbally to mark nuances of perfect (see below), although such influence must be more from Kwa-like languages than from Bantu (in which the possessive pronoun is clearly marked as such and follows the head noun). Overall substrate influence in Gullah is the strongest where there was at least partial congruence between the feature of some colonial English dialect and its counterpart in some African languages. There is little in Gullah’s structural system that does not have a (partial) model in some nonstandard English dialect. Though the following discussion will focus on those respects in which Gullah differs from other English dialects, one need not jump to the conclusion that these domains of divergence justify identifying it as a creole. As noted above, creoles differ among themselves in regard to the structural features that make them different from other offspring of the same European languages they have evolved from.

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The identification of some new colonial vernaculars as creoles seems to have had to do more with who their speakers are than with the particular kinds of restructuring that have produced them. 3.1.

The noun phrase

One of the things that first caught my attention about Gullah’s structures is the use of nouns in non-individuated form (i.e., without a determiner and number suffix) not only for mass reference, as in he don eat hog maw ‘he/she does not eat hog maw’, but also for generic or non-specific reference as in the following examples: (1)

a. you gwine cut it with knife? ‘Are you going to cut it with a knife (not assumed known to the addressee)?’ b. all he do is chase ooman ‘all he does is chase women/all he did was chase women’ c. You ever see cat eat raw tato skin? ‘Have you ever seen a cat eat raw potato skin?’

Worth noting in this connection is also the fact that Gullah marks nominal plural sometimes as in other English varieties, by attaching the plural suffix {S} to the noun. This practice, which has nothing to do with decreolization, is common in the mesolect, which is the variety spoken by the vast majority of its speakers, a phenomenon that is true of other creole-speaking territories, as observed by Rickford (1990). However, in the basilect, nominal plural is marked by preposing dem to the noun, as in dem boy, with the ambiguous meaning ‘the boys’ or ‘those boys’. Co-occurrence with the plural suffix {S} is also common, making Gullah similar to other American nonstandard English varieties on the particular parameter of nominal pluralization. The plural marker is typically missing when the noun is modified by a numeral quantifier, as in four boy(s), though constructions such as four chillun ‘four children’ and four people (with suppletive plural forms) are common. Evidence that nominal dem is a portmanteau morpheme for both plural and definite is provided by the ill-formedness of *four dem boy(s), as opposed to dem four boy(s). Gullah is also well known for its associative plural, in which a proper name or a definite NP is followed by (an’) dem or (an’) nem to associate the definite referent with a specific group, such as family, friends, and colleagues. When the head noun is a proper name, an ‘and’ is often omitted, as in Sara (an’) dem/nem. Regarding personal pronouns, Gullah’s basilect diverges from its Jamaican and Guyanese counterparts in particular. For the first person singular, it has the subjective form Uh [√], the objective form me, which also alternates in the possessive function with the more common variant muh [m√] (English my). The second per-

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son pronoun is you, which remains the same in all syntactic functions. It commonly assumes the form ye [yi] in the possessive function, as in ye buba ‘your brother’. The unmarked pronominal form for the third person singular is (h)e, regardless of gender. It becomes (h)im or um [√m] in the objective function but remains he in the possessive. When used as the object of the verb see, um fuses with it in the stereotypical form shum [S√m]. There is, however, also the gender-specific pronoun she, which remains the same in all syntactic functions. In addition, the pronoun it behaves more or less like she, except that it seems to merge with (h)e in the possessive function. It is thus partly inaccurate to claim that Gullah’s pronominal system is gender-less in the third person singular. Only (h)e and (h)im/um are gender-neutral. She and I(t) are gender-specific. In the first person plural, we occurs in the subject function but alternates in the object function with us. In the possessive function the allomorph our, typically pronounced [aw] is used. Although the variant you is also used for second person plural (with the same distribution as the singular), the more common one is yall [yç:l], as in other American South nonstandard English varieties, with yall’s as the possessive. There is also the celebrated variant (h)una [(h)´n´] ~ [un´], which I have encountered only in stereotypical discourse produced in performances. The third person plural pronoun is deh [dE:], attested in the subject and possessive functions, and dem [dEm] which occurs in the subject and object functions. Its weaker variant em [Em] is attested only in the object function. With the exception of yall’s, all the above pronouns combine with own to express possession elliptically, viz., my/muh own ‘mine’, you own ‘yours’, he/she own ‘his/hers/its’, we/ou’ own ‘ours’, and deh own ‘theirs’. To form the reflexive, the morpheme se(l)f is added to whatever form also occurs in the possessive function, except yall’s, viz., meself/muhself, youself/yeself, heself/sheself, weself/ourself, and dehself/demself. 3.2.

Relative clauses

It is useful to distinguish between factive and non-factive/purposive relative clauses. The latter are introduced by the complementizer fuh, as in a book fuh da chillun (fuh/tuh) read ‘a book for the children to read’. Factive relative clauses are introduced by a null complementizer or by weh [wE], from English what, pronounced [wQt] in some dialects and also used as a relativizer in some nonstandard English varieties, as in everything what Alison said ‘everything that Alison said’. This example corresponds to everything (weh) Alison say in Gullah. Moreover, weh also occurs in more or less the same form as an interrogative, as in Weh/Way he tell you? ‘What did he tell you?’. The relativizer weh seems to function as a complementizer. When the relativized noun is the object of a preposition, this must be stranded, never pied-piped, as illustrated below:

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(2)

a. a knife fuh cut da meat wi’ ‘a knife to cut the meet with’ a’. *a knife wi’ weh fuh cut da meat ‘a knife with which to cut the meat’ b. da gyal (weh) Clinton duh look at ‘the girl (that) Clinton is looking at’ b’. *da gyal at weh Clinton duh look ‘the girl at whom Clinton is looking’

When the relativized noun has a possessive function, a resumptive pronoun is needed in the construction: (3)

a. da man (weh) he wife die laas week ‘the man whose wife died last week’ b. da ooman (weh) Uh meet he son ‘the woman whose son I met’

On the other hand, the relativized noun is gapped, along with the preposition than, as in other syntactic contexts, when it is the object of a comparative. The preposition than can be retained only when there is a resumptive pronoun. (4)

a. T’s only ting weh covetin happier ‘It’s [the] only thing that coveting is happier than’ b. Teddy da man (weh) everybody taller than *(him)

(AS, 1986) (AS, 1986)

The relative pronoun can also be omitted when the relativized NP is a subject, thus producing a contact relative clause, as in Dis da young man come ‘eyah las’ week (MI, 1986) ‘This is the young man [who/that] came here last week’. Such facts underscore the fact that Gullah has evolved from nonstandard English, rather than from a standard variety. 3.3.

Tense, mood, and aspect

Like other English varieties, Gullah expresses mood through modal verbs or the absence thereof. The verbs are the same, except that some of them are pronounced differently and have their own morphosyntactic peculiarities. The modal can is often pronounced as [kin] and its negative as [kE):]. In past contexts, it becomes could, couldn’, or coulda (< could’ve < could have). Its syntax is the same as in other English varieties. The modal must works in basically the same way as in other English varieties too (with the negator following it, in a contracted form). When it is used epistemically, it is often followed by be as in (5), where must be either precedes the main verb or occurs sentence-initially:

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a. Deh must be put um deh. ‘They must have put it there.’ b. Must be deh put um deh.

The combination may well be interpreted as an adverb, like maybe, but it has not been subjected to any syntactic tests. There are some cases in which the subject is repeated after must as in the following sentence: (6)

When Uh first start buyin chicken, e mus’ e bin about two cents a pound. ‘When I first stated buying chicken, it must have been about two cents a pound.’ (MI, 1986)

There are also combinations of must be and could(a) in my data, as in: (7)

Dem gata must be coulda go fast. ‘Those alligators must have been able to go/move fast.’

(EL, 1988)

Such a combination suggests that Gullah may not have an infinitive or a clearcut finite/nonfinite distinction. The modal can certainly does not have an infinitival alternative. The negation in the above example would be must be coudn’ go fast ‘must not have been able to go/move fast’. If must be is treated as a phrasal or compound modal, then this example also illustrates a double modal use (so far hardly investigated in Gullah). The modal will is seldom heard, because the future marker is ga [g´] (see below). On the other hand, would and woulda ‘would have’ are used, as in other English dialects. It is also negated as wouldn’, as in Uh wouldn tell a damn lie (JR, 1988). The auxiliaries may and might(a) are also attested in Gullah, with no particular idiosyncrasies to report here. Noteworthy are also attestations of the modal have, often in the form [hQ] ‘have, had’ followed by the complementizer fuh or tuh. Perhaps what distinguishes this vernacular the most from other American English vernaculars is the modal use of fuh as below: (8)

Jean bin fuh come yes’day ‘Jean was to/had to/was expected to come yesterday.’

In this respect it is more akin to Caribbean English creoles, in which a similar construction is attested. Gullah is also closer to Atlantic English creoles in the preverbal morphemes it combines with to mark tense and aspect. When the verb combines with no tense marker, reference is to the past or to a habit if it is non-stative but most likely to the present if it is stative, especially when the contextual domain does not suggest otherwise. The preverbal bin denotes anteriority, either past or past of past, depending on the contextual domain of its use. Bin is seldom used to express past, as the stativity parameter and the contextual domain provided by the ongoing discourse makes this redundant. Only at the beginning of some discourses would

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it be required. Future is expressed with the preverbal marker ga or gwine. This is negated by preposing ain to the verbal construction. It is also a relative tense, because it can be used in some contexts to express future of past, translated by would in English (an option also available in Gullah). Gullah diverges the most from other American (southern) English counterparts by the way it marks aspect. As with tense, the marker is a free preverbal morpheme. The progressive, also known as durative in creolistics, is expressed with duh [d´] followed by a verb stem or by a present participle. The latter can also be used alone for the same purpose. Thus one can ask ‘How are you doing’ in three different ways: How you duh do? How you duh doin? or How you doin? (However, the phrase Uh duh tell you! ‘I am telling you the truth!’/‘I am not lying!’ occurs only in this idiomatic form.) The verb phrase is understood in this case as stative and the tense can be present or past, depending on context. It is negated with ain, as in he ain duh talk at all ‘he is not talking at all’. The origin of the marker seems to lie in Southwestern British English, in which periphrastic do, deeply rooted since Middle English and also pronounced unstressed as [d´], appears to have been used similarly for both progressive and habitual states of affairs (Pargman 2002). But Gullah is unlike most American English varieties and even some Caribbean creoles in having a specific habitual marker duhz [d´z], as in How you duhz cook hog maw (EL, 1988) ‘How do you/did you use to cook hog maw?’ It is also negated with ain, as in You ain duhz make no hog cheese? (EL, 1988) ‘Didn’t you make any hog cheese?’. Its tense may be universal or past, depending on the discourse context of its use. This feature, also attested in Newfoundland English, has the same origins as duh, though its selection may clearly have been influenced by the semantics of many black African languages which delimit verbs with different morphosyntactic devices for habits and non-habits. Like other creoles, Gullah can thus be a useful window into colonial English, from which it developed. This habitual construction should not be confused with the consuetudinal be + V-in’/Adj/ PrepP construction, Faye be eatin’/sick every time I visit, which does not denote repeated activities but repeated states of affairs, which can be states or processes. The consuetudinal is used in the same way as in AAVE. Gullah shares with Atlantic English creoles and some nonstandard American English varieties (such as Appalachian English: Christian, Dube and Wolfram 1988) the use of perfect done [d√n], as in Uh done eat dat one (already) ‘I ate/have eaten that one (already)’. As in other nonstandard English varieties, it conveys some emphasis on the completion of the activity or its relevance to the reference time. Unlike in other nonstandard English dialects, it is not necessarily followed by a verb in the past tense or past participle. It often combines with the verb stem for exactly the same meaning. It also combines with stative verb phrases as in he brother done dead ‘his brother is already dead’ and Uh kin tell you wha I done been tru (JR, 1988) ‘I can tell you what I have been through’. It can also modify a

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verb phrase already delimited with the tense marker bin as in Uh done bin finish ‘I finished a long time ago’. Unlike in white nonstandard English varieties, there is no particular evidence in Gullah that would suggest deletion of an underlying have or be in contexts where done is used. The interpretation of its tense is also relative, depending on the discourse context. Another interesting peculiarity is that done can be used post-verbally, as in Uh eat/talk done ‘I have eaten/spoken [and I don’t intend to do so again]’. It implicates completion with no intention on the part of the subject to re-engage him/herself in the activity. The grammatical behavior of done, which is a cognate of English participial adjective done ‘finished’ (not the auxiliary do), is made possible by the fact that Gullah does not require that all predicate phrases be headed by a verb in the surface structure. It is also in the same way that the purposive preposition for/fuh could develop a modal use, as illustrated above in (8). In overtly anterior contexts, they can also be modified by bin, as in Peter bin done dead when I come back ‘Peter had already died when I came back’. 3.4.

Negation and focus

Another interesting aspect of Gullah’s morphosyntax is its strategies for negation. Not counting the frozen negative forms of modal auxiliaries (discussed above), it differs from Caribbean creoles in having more than one basic negator: ain, don, didn, and no. Unlike in Jamaican and Guyanese Creoles, for instance, no has only two functions: 1) a wide-scope negator in elliptical, or at the beginning of, answers to yes/no questions; and 2) a NP-internal narrow-scope negator, as in no hog cheese. Didn is used in PAST contexts, where Jamaican Creole favors neba with the non-emphatic meaning ‘did not’. Don is used in two contexts: 1) in imperative sentences, as in Don le’ da’ bread get cold on you (ER, 1988) and we tell um fuh don come ‘we told him/her not to come’; 2) in habitual sentences, as in da’ duh som’um Uh don buy (JR, 1988) ‘that’s something I don’t buy’. In all other cases, the sentence, wide-scope negator is ain, as in the following examples: (9)

a. She ain tell um ‘She did not tell him/She has not told him.’ b. Uh ain ga go nowhere ‘I won’t go anywhere.’ (JR, 1988) c. Uh ain bin a take no chance on da’ road ‘I didn’t take any chances on that road.’ (JR, 1988) d. People ain duh plant no tato now ‘People weren’t planting/didn’t plant any potatoes now/then.’ (JR, 1988) e. Yall ain duhz make no hog cheese? ‘Didn’t you make any hog cheese?’ (EL, 1988)

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Like other nonstandard English varieties, it has negative concord, as in Uh ain go nowhere, and nobody ain go nowhere. Aini also functions as an invariant tag question marker, similar to colloquial English right?, London Jamaican init?, French n’est-ce pas?, and German nicht wahr?. Examples include the following: (10)

a. Yall didn buy no clothes from town, inni? ‘You didn’t buy (any) clothes from the city, did you?’ (EL, 1988) b. You ain know Harry, inni? ‘You didn’t/don’t know Harry, did/do you?’ (JR, 1988) c. You be cookin up all kine o’ ting, inni? ‘You would be cooking all kinds of things, wouldn’t you?’ ‘You’ve been cooking all kinds of things, haven’t you?’ (EL, 1988)

Finally, ain also functions as a negative focus marker in the following examples: (11)

a. Ain nobody ga worry wid you ‘There’s nobody/There isn’t anybody that will worry with you.’ (JR, 1988) b. Ain Sara we duh talk ‘bout; duh Faye we duh talk ‘bout. ‘It’s not Sara we are talking about; it’s Faye we are talking about.’

A sentence such as (12) is ambiguous between a negative concord interpretation and double-negation interpretation. Only the discourse context can clarify such ambiguities. (12)

Ain nobody ain go deh a. ‘There isn’t anybody/There’s nobody who went there.’ b. ‘There isn’t anybody/There’s nobody who has not gone there.’

Positive focus constructions are marked with sentence-initial duh, as in duh Sara we duh talk ‘bout ‘it’s Sara we are talking about’. This is similar to its translated English cleft construction. The only difference is that it allows bare verb stems in the cleft-focus position, as in duh talk he (bin) duh talk ‘he/she was really talking (in an unusual kind of way)’. VPs are not acceptable in the cleft-focus position: *duh talk to me he de talk. This constraint is similar to the restriction of preposition phrases from such constructions: *duh ‘bout Sara we duh talk is also ill-formed. The focused verb appears to occur in this position as a NP derived with a zero suffix (by simple category shifting). A similar construction is attested in several substrate languages, both Kwa and Bantu. Moreover, English allows similar verbal clefts, which must be nominalized through the gerund, as in it’s singing he prefers to playing a musical instrument. The name Verb/Predicate Clefting by which the construction is identified in creoles is thus a misnomer which suggests misguided contrasts between English and Gullah in this respect, though there are some having to do, for instance, with how the verb is nominalized.

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Serial verb constructions (SVCs)

Far from being a misnomer is the combination of verbs identified as serial verb/ predicate construction. It consists of verb or predicate phrases concatenated without connectives between them and sharing an argument whose function can be the same (typically subject) or different (typically object of the head verb and subject of the second, serial verb). Examples include: (13)

a. Uh run go home. ‘I ran home.’ b. He up deh duh hammer on da’ leg. ‘He [was] up there, hammering on that leg.’ c. Uh tell um stop. ‘I told him [to] stop.’ d. Uh ga see d’ doctor fix medicine fuh me. ‘I will see the doctor to fix [some] medicine for me.’

(JM, 1987) (PR, 1987) (LW, 1987) (JM, 1987)

In (13a-b), the two predicate phrases share the subject; the only differences are that the head predicate in (13b) is a preposition, which Gullah grammar allows to head a predicate phrase, the second predicate phrase is modified by a progressive marker. There are no participial forms, with uses similar to the English translation, in Gullah’s basilect. In (13c-d) the object of the head verb functions as the subject of the serial verb. This construction also illustrates the fact that tense is indicated only once in a serial predicate construction. It functions as a syntactic unit which can be modified only by one negator, as in Uh ain know fix da bread with water (JM, 1987) ‘I don’t know how to bake bread with water’. This is an aspect of creoles’ grammars where substrate influence has been considered incontrovertible since Turner (1949). However, English also has constructions such as go get the paper and come play with me. The role of partial congruence between, on the one hand, the African SVCs and, on the other, this infinitival construction and the gerundive ones in, for instance, go fishing and start working, should not be discounted a priori in the development of this grammatical characteristic. The fact that most verbal inflections were lost during the development of creoles must have contributed to the wider attestations of SVCs. In any case, English varieties which evolved in settings without a significant presence of African languages do not have the wide range of SVCs attested in Gullah and its creole kin of the Caribbean, including the complementizer use of say, as in she answer say she mama ain come or we hear say Bill ain ga come discussed in Mufwene (1989, 1996).

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4.

Conclusions

The above information in section 3 gives us a glimpse of a subset of Gullah’s structures, highlighting both differences and similarities between it and other nonstandard English varieties in the United States. Most comparisons have been in relation to Standard English and have given the unjustified impression that Gullah has diverged from English almost beyond recognition. Compared to other nonstandard English varieties, it is hard to determine which variety has diverged the most; nor is it certain that one can measure the extent of divergence in ways suggested by the creolistics literature. Colonial English was variable and also contained xenolectal features, even among the European speakers. One must remember that Ireland, which provided a lot of indentured servants, was just beginning to become an Anglophone country in the 17th century, as it was becoming geographically the closest of England’s settlement colonies. Besides, the other colonists came from outside the British Isles and also spoke English as a second language. The Africans who were shifting to English as their vernacular, and those acquiring it natively, were not always able to tell which European linguistic models were native and which ones were not. One can simply imagine a setting, such as in colonial Africa and Asia, in which learners appropriate a language from other non-native speakers and the European speakers are somewhat privileged. Moreover, there were no English language classes and the target language was being “acquired” only naturalistically, by immersion in the society. Even the native models varied among themselves, representing diverse dialects from the British Isles. From a language evolution perspective, some important questions arise: 1) What are the mechanisms that regulated the competition of features between English and the other languages with which it came in contact, within English itself, and among the other languages? 2) Was competition always resolved? 3) Why isn’t Gullah more different from the other American English varieties than it is? This question is significant because race segregation was institutionalized the earliest on the coastal rice plantations, to protect the Europeans from the black majority which obtained already in the first quarter of the 18th century (Wood 1974). 4) What is the actual nature of substrate influence in Gullah and how extensive is it? The answer to the first question cannot be formulated straightforwardly and succinctly in the space available here. Nor can our current understanding of the mechanisms of competition and selection within a language contact feature pool answer it exhaustively. Suffice it to note that ecology-based principles of markedness, population structure, and relative degree of entrenchment of some features (having to do with the founder population) seem to have played important roles during the gradual development of this new vernacular (Mufwene 2001). The answer to the second question is obvious. Current variation in Gullah’s system suggests that the competition was not always resolved.

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As for the third question, the fact that Gullah’s structures have remained so English(-like) despite its divergence can be explained in part by the growth pattern of the African population relative to the European population. The homestead phase produced a critical mass of non-European native speakers who would become the transmitters of the colonial vernacular even after the institutionalization of race segregation. Many of the locally-born slaves had access to varieties diverging the least from those spoken by the Europeans. They continued to offset the extent of non-native influence that the bozal slaves exerted on the local colonial vernacular. One can imagine this by simply comparing Gullah to varieties such as Sarmaccan and Sranan in Surinam, where contact with native speakers of the colonial vernacular was significantly reduced, if not completely severed, quite early in its history. Regarding the fourth question, we should start by noting that substrate influence is made difficult to deny because all over the world any language appropriated by a different ethnolinguistic group has changed under the influence of the language(s) previously spoken by its new users. European-American English varieties are a function of how competition and selection were resolved in the various communities, although, as noted by Kurath (1928), regional differences in waves of settlement had a role to play in the process. Thus varieties that developed among groups of Africans necessarily reflect influence from African languages. The structural data suggest that most of the influence may have consisted more in (dis)favoring particular variants in colonial English than in introducing non-lexical materials in the system. We must bear in mind that favoring some variants also entailed modification of the relevant grammatical principles in ways that made them more similar to those of some substrate languages. Identifying those particular principles and the extent of modification has remained controversial, in part because Gullah’s structures, like those of other creoles, have been compared to Standard English rather than to nonstandard varieties. One must also remember that a global comparison of two or more dialects in all grammatical respects is unwarranted, because knowledge of a language is developed piecemeal and selectively, with materials originating in different sources (be these idiolects or dialects). More work and scholarship is thus needed to answer the third question. While Gullah makes a good case for studying language divergence, the role of race segregation in its development also makes it an informative window into structural features of colonial English. This statement is not intended to support the claim by Krapp (1924) and several other dialectologists of the same period that African Americans have retained the English formerly spoken and now presumably abandoned by the low-class Europeans with whom their ancestors interacted before Emancipation. Gullah is not an archaic conservative variety of colonial English, not any more than any other nonstandard American English dialect is. It only contains features that were current in the varieties spoken during the colonial

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period, some of which can also be identified today in some white nonstandard varieties. Sample Gullah text from Mufwene’s field records (1980s) transcribed in eye dialect: JR You trow way... trow way wha? En one day, Uh gone down deh... en talk bout something bin a bite! Uh bin on dat flat, en Uh had me line, Uh done ketch couple a whitin... Uh say, Uh ga put up da drop net... when Uh look up, duh look from yah to you cah deh, Uh see sompin on da damn side da shoulder comin, like a damn log. Uh watch um, en when Uh see him gone down... ‘You throw away... throw away what? And one day, I went/had gone down there... and talk[ing] about something biting! I was on that flat, and I had my line, I had caught a couple of whiting... I said, “I’ll put up the drop net”... when I looked up, [I] was looking from here to your car there, I saw something on the damned side of the shoulder coming like a damned log. I watched it, and when I saw it gone down...’ EL Hm hm! JR En dat tide bin a comin in... en dat sucker swim close, closer en closer, den Uh look en Uh see dat alligator open e damn mouth! ‘And that tide was coming in... and that sucker swam close, closer and closer, then I looked and saw that alligator open its damned mouth!’ *

Field research on which this chapter is directly or indirectly based was sponsored in the 1980s by the National Endowment for the Humanities (Independent Study and Research Fellowship 1982, and Summer Stipend 1988) and by the National Science Foundation, grant BNS 8519315, for which I am very grateful.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Bailey, Guy and Patricia Cukor-Avila fc. The Development of African American English. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Chaudenson, Robert 2001 Creolization of Language and Culture. London: Routledge. Edgar, Walter 1998 South Carolina: A History. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press. Kautzsch, Alexander and Edgar W. Schneider 2000 Differential creolization: Some evidence from earlier African American vernacular English in South Carolina. In: Neumann-Holzschuh and Schneider (eds.), 247–274.

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Krapp, George Philip 1924 The English of the Negro. The American Mercury 2: 190–5. Kurath, Hans 1928 The origin of dialectal differences in spoken American English. Modern Philology 25: 385–395. Labov, William and Wendell Harris 1986 De facto segregation of black and white vernaculars. In: David Sankoff (ed.), Diversity and Diachrony, 1–24. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Mufwene, Salikoko S. 1989 Equivocal structures in some Gullah complex sentences. American Speech 64: 304–326. 1996 Creolization and grammaticization: What creolistics could contribute to research on grammaticization. In: Philip Baker and Anand Syea (eds.), Changing Meanings, Changing Functions: Papers Relating to Grammaticalization in Contact Languages, 5-28. London: University of Westminster Press. Pargman, Sheri 2002 Internal and external factors in language change. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Chicago. Rickford, John R. 1990 Number delimitation in Gullah: A response to Mufwene. American Speech 65: 148–63. Turner, Lorenzo Dow 1949 Africanisms in the Gullah Dialect. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Wood, Peter 1974 Black Majority: Negroes in Colonial South Carolina from 1670 through the Stono Rebellion. New York: Knopf.

Chicano English: morphology and syntax* Robert Bayley and Otto Santa Ana

1.

Introduction

Latinos are the largest minority group in the United States, numbering 37 million in 2000. They are not evenly distributed across the nation, but concentrated in the urban centers of a few states. For example, Latinos make up 32 percent of the population of Texas, and over 59 percent of San Antonio. In Texas, Latinos are overwhelmingly of Mexican origin. For a second example, Latinos comprise 45 percent of Los Angeles County’s 9.5 million people. The national origins of Los Angeles Latinos are more varied. In Los Angeles County, for example, 76 percent are of Mexican origin, according to the 2000 census. Although many Mexicanorigin Latinos claim English as their sole or dominant language, the varieties of English spoken by Mexican-Americans have received relatively little scholarly attention. More than 20 years ago, Peñalosa observed that “the most obvious discrepancy in the field of Chicano sociolinguistics is that between the extensive use of English in the Chicano community and the paucity of serious studies concerning the varieties of English used by Chicanos” (1980: 115). The situation has improved in recent years with the appearance of a number of dissertations and articles dealing with phonological and grammatical features of Chicano English (see Mendoza-Denton 1999 for a review). Nevertheless, the study of English varieties spoken by Mexican Americans remains a relatively neglected area of sociolinguistic research. The neglect of Chicano English (henceforth ChcE) may be in part a consequence of the difficulty of defining the limits of the dialect, as well as other questions that do not figure in accounts of English varieties spoken in predominantly monolingual communities. Among these questions are the extent and nature of the influence of the Mexican Spanish substrate, the distinctions between the learner varieties spoken by immigrants and the native varieties spoken by U.S.-born Chicanos and by those who immigrated as young children, and the relationships among the varieties of English spoken by Chicanos and other vernacular dialects. In this chapter, we define ChcE as an ethnic variety of English spoken by people who acquired English as their first language, who acquired English and Spanish simultaneously, or who began to acquire English when they enrolled in elementary school, usually around the age of 5, well before the end of the critical period for second language acquisition. Speakers of ChcE are concentrated primarily in the urban barrios of California and the southwestern United States. However, given

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the spread of the U.S. Mexican-origin population in recent years, ChcE speakers may also be found in other urban centers, particularly in cities such as Chicago that have long drawn large numbers of Mexican immigrants. Speakers of ChcE may or may not speak Spanish as well as English. Nearly all ChcE speakers, however, live in communities where Spanish is widely spoken and most have at least some passive knowledge of Spanish. Indeed, many ChcE speakers come from families where Spanish is used to varying degrees in the home. Excluded from the definition are people of Mexican ancestry who have fully assimilated into the dominant culture and who speak varieties of the standard language that are indistinguishable from those of middle and upper-middle class Anglos in the same regions. Our definition of ChcE distinguishes this native-speaker dialect from interlanguages, or the varieties of learner language spoken by native-speakers of Spanish who immigrated to the United States as adolescents or adults. Although we recognize that the widespread use of Spanish in Chicano communities may well influence the English spoken by native English-speaking Chicanos, we reject the notion of interference that has been used to attempt to explain so many of the features of ChcE. In second language acquisition, interference, or transfer, is a psycholinguistic construct that attempts to explain how features of a learner’s first language inhibit the acquisition of features of a second language. Such a construct has no relevance for describing a language variety that is the sole or dominant variety of a group of speakers. Since there are ChcE speakers who do not speak any Spanish, Spanish cannot be the proximate source of their native English dialect. Nevertheless, because ChcE speakers are often in daily contact with fluent speakers of Spanish and because many ChcE speakers live in communities where they have only minimal contact with speakers of Anglo varieties, we acknowledge the possible influence of the Spanish substrate on features of ChcE grammar. In this chapter, we outline the grammatical features of ChcE, many of which are common to other vernacular dialects. Then, because sociolinguistic research has shown that differences or similarities between dialects are determined not so much by the presence of absence of particular forms or grammatical features, but rather by the patterning of constraints on those variants, we discuss two variables, negative concord and relative pronoun choice, that have been systematically investigated using standard sociolinguistic methodology.

2.

Grammatical features common to ChcE and other dialects

The majority of ChcE grammatical and syntactic features that diverge from prescriptive norms are also found in other vernacular dialects, including those spoken in non-contact situations. In this section, we summarize the morphological and syntactic features that diverge from Anglo norms and provide examples of each.

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Wherever possible, we illustrate the different grammatical features discussed with examples from our own data sets. The San Antonio (SA) and northern California (NC) examples were collected by Bayley and colleagues between 1991 and 2001 in three separate projects. Except where indicated, the Los Angeles (LA) examples were collected by Santa Ana between 1987 and 1991 during several fieldwork projects. In addition to providing information about the area where the examples were collected, we also provide information about speaker gender and age after each example. 2.1.

The verb phrase

ChcE shares a number of features of the verb phrase with other vernacular dialects, including African American Vernacular English (AAVE). Among these are regularization of irregular verbs, variable absence of 3rd sg. -s, and variable use of is and was with plural subjects: (1)

Regularization of irregular verbs: When I was little and that teacher hit my hand on my- my upper side of the hand- that when she striked me with that, that just blew my mind ... (SA, f, 30)

(2)

Absence of 3rd sg. -s: If somebody come up and push me then I’ll just probably have to push em back or something. (SA, f, 12)

(3)

is with plural subject: And the people that live here is .... (SA, f, 33)

(4)

was with plural subject: They was like, you know little girls, “what are you doing?” (SA, f, 29)

In addition to the structures illustrated in (1) through (4), ChcE also exhibits variable absence of past-tense marking: (5)

I saw some girl, she, she look pretty. (SA, f, 12)

(6)

By like the first grade I was already, you know, catching on like de volada then after that I talk English. (SA, m, 15)

(7)

This girl you know she hated me and everything and she was in a different gang than I was, and she had, you know, she went up to the principal go- she tell him that I had an illegal weapon. (SA, f, 15)

Note that (5) and (6) contain examples of unmarked regular past-tense verbs. The absence of past-tense marking of look (in 5) and talk (in 6) might well be a result of consonant cluster reduction, a phonological process that we have investigated in

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detail among both California and Texas Chicanos (Bayley 1994; Santa Ana 1996). In fact, Bayley (1994: 310) found that -t/-d was absent from 24 percent of regular past-tense verbs produced by a sample of San Antonio Chicanos. Moreover, unlike many non-contact varieties of English, ChcE does exhibit a fairly high rate of cluster reduction before vowels. In Bayley’s study, prevocalic clusters were reduced at a rate of 21 percent (1994: 310). Thus, it seems reasonable to attribute the absence of past-marking in (5) and (6) to a phonological process that is common to virtually all dialects of English. Unmarked past reference tell in (7), however, indicates that a frequently-studied phonological process is not the only cause of the variable absence of past-tense marking in ChcE. Clearly, the abundance of past tense forms in the examples throughout this chapter provides evidence that the ChcE speakers, in contrast to English language learners, usually mark past reference verbs. However, as with many other ChcE variables, the possible constraints on past marking have yet to be systematically investigated. In addition to the features discussed thus far, ChcE also exhibits occasional use of zero copula: (8)

... they Ø like, “you speak a little bit weird” (SA, f, 12)

(9)

I see so many people dying of diseases and I Ø just like tired of it ... (SA, f, 12)

The two speakers who provided the examples above lived in the overwhelmingly Latino west side of San Antonio and attended a school with a Latino enrollment of 97 percent. Aside from an African American boy with whom they attended school for a year – with whom they did not socialize – neither girl had direct contact with African Americans, who in any case constitute only seven percent of the population of San Antonio. Like AAVE, ChcE, at least as spoken in Los Angeles, exhibits use of habitual be, although at a much lower rate, as in (10): (10)

Her name was Sister Dorothy. I used to hate her because it’s the same reason. You be doing a classwork in class, and she used to tell me: “Do this”. (LA, f, 18)

Also, like many other vernacular dialects, ChcE provides examples of auxiliary deletion: (11)

I Ø been doing dancing for a long time, for eight years already. (SA, f, 12)

In both Los Angeles (Fought 2003: 97–98) and San Antonio, ChcE exhibits variable use of the past perfect where standard English would use a simple past, as well as generalization of past tense irregular verb forms to the past participle: (12)

I don’t know if it was my son or my nephew that had told me. (SA, f, 36)

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(13)

It was in the apple that the witch had gave Snow White that wasn’t poisonous. (SA, f, 11)

2.2.

Negation

Like nearly all vernacular dialects of English, ChcE speakers frequently use negative concord: (14)

You really can’t do nothing about it because you’re on welfare right, and you live here, and you barely make it, right? (SA, f, 30)

(15)

I didn’t see nothing no more. I didn’t have that dream no more. (LA, m, 19)

This feature is one of the few ChcE grammatical structures that has been investigated quantitatively. We describe it in greater detail in section 4 below. Like negative concord, other aspects of ChcE negation are not especially distinct from those found in other vernacular dialects. Thus, don’t is variably used with both singular and plural third person subjects, as in (16): (16)

She don’t like it here in the courts and my dad well I’m not sure ‘cause he don’t live with us. (SA, f, 15)

The acquisition of English negation was one of the earliest topics investigated in modern second language acquisition research (see, e.g., Schumann 1978). To simplify a bit, research has shown that English language acquirers move from NO + V to unanalyzed DONT + V to analyzed DON’T + V. At first glance, then, it might be possible to attribute the type of negation illustrated in (15) to an incomplete acquisition of English negation. However, other data from the same speaker indicate that Spanish interference or incomplete English language acquisition are unlikely explanations for the non-standard use of don’t. In contrast to what we see in transcripts from language learners, the transcript from this speaker contains numerous instances of conjugated DO+N’T, including both present and past tense forms, as in (17): (17)

It doesn’t matter what color you are but in God’s eyes, you know, people should be treated the same. (SA, f, 15)

Finally, as in other vernacular dialects, ChcE speakers use ain’t as a negative with present tense be and have: (18)

You fight back ‘cause you know they touched you and they ain’t supposed to do that. (SA, f, 12)

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Direct object absence

ChcE vernacular exhibits occasional use of zero direct objects: (19) (20)

He took a bath. I gave him Ø to eat. (LA, f, 52) I just told [my three year old daughter who surprised her mother by laughingly hanging out of the tailgate window of a moving car]: “Patricia, get inside the car”. Yea. You know I didn’t wanna scare her. I wanted her to get in the car. Then I told my boyfriend: “Close that back window. If you ever open Ø again I’m gonna kill you!” (LA, f, 40)

Like many of the features exemplified here, this feature has not been studied in detail. 2.4.

Quotative go, be like, be all

Among younger speakers, the innovative quotatives go, be like, and be all are common in informal speech, a development that parallels changes in other vernaculars spoken in the United States and elsewhere (Daily-O’Cain 2000). The following examples, which contain numerous tokens of go, be like, and be all, are from two early adolescents and an adult who live in a San Antonio barrio. The speakers, who are bilingual in Spanish and English, were born in Texas and attended Texas schools beginning at the age of 5. Aside from teachers or supervisors at work, none has had extensive contact with Anglos: (21)

When people wanna fight me I’m like “well okay, well then I’ll fight you.” (SA, f, 12)

(22)

Like at the exact moment that we’re supposed to take off, he’ll [her exhusband] go like, “I’m not taking you nowhere”. (SA, f, 36)

(23)

Then some girl goes “eh they jumped you right?” And I was like, “Oh, my god, you had to say that!” And I was like “No they didn’t” And she [the speaker’s mother] was all “what, what happened? I was like, “uh nothing”. She’s all, “J., you better tell me”. And I had to tell her. And I go “well don’t, don’t go to my school. If I have to fight then I’ll take care of it, I’ll fight them by myself.” And she goes “Well they gave you a ticket J.” And I, she goes, “Does Miss A. [the school principal] know?” So I was like, “Yes”. (SA, f, 12)

Fought (2003) also discusses the prevalence of be all and be like among young Chicanos in Los Angeles and provides a number of examples. Although innovative quotatives have yet to be fully investigated in ChcE, preliminary analysis of our data suggests that quotative go is used frequently by older and younger speakers and be like and be all are common among younger speakers in California and

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Texas. The widespread use of these innovative forms suggests that even speakers whose social networks are restricted to other Latinos may be more open to linguistic influence from Anglo varieties than previously supposed. 2.5.

Focuser like

The quotatives be like and be all are used primarily by younger speakers. Focuser like, however, is common among ChcE speakers of all generations, as illustrated in the following examples taken from sociolinguistic interviews with speakers ranging in age from 18 to 54. (24)

I talk to people a lot and a lot of times they’re like trying to get a word in edgewise. (SA, f, 18)

(25)

She was like a real thin lady. (LA, m, 52)

(26)

So Nora like she was kind of like free, independent. (N CA, m, 54)

As in the case of quotative be like and be all, in the popular mind, focuser like is strongly associated with the speech of young Anglo women in California (DaileyO’Cain 2000). However, examples such as those above indicate that the one-dimensional popular conception fails to capture the reality. 2.6.

Pronouns

In ChcE, it is sometimes used in place of there as an empty subject pronoun: (27)

They were saying that they had a lot of problems at Garner because it was a lot of fights and stuff. (SA, m, 35)

Although we have no examples from Texas, Fought (2003: 95) observed a number of non-standard pronouns in Los Angeles ChcE, including theirselves in place of themselves and hisself in place of himself. Finally, resumptive pronouns can be found occasionally in the speech of Los Angeles and San Antonio Chicanos, as in (28) and (29): (28)

I don’t think I had a teacher that I didn’t really like him. (LA, m, 16)

(29)

I know this lady that she used to live here. (SA, f, 36)

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3.

Features specific to Chicano English

3.1.

Reported speech

381

Wald (1987) investigated reported speech among ChcE speakers in East Los Angeles. He observed three distinctions between ChcE and other vernacular dialects. First, speakers in Wald’s study as well as other studies, used tell to introduce questions: (30)

I told Elinore: “Is that your brother?” She goes: “I don’t think so mom”. (LA, f, 52)

Second, the East Los Angeles speakers, in contrast to speakers of other vernacular dialects, sometimes extended complementizer that to direct speech following tell: (31)

I told him that “I can’t go out with you no more ...”

(Wald 1987: 58)

Third, again in contrast to speakers of other dialects, the East Los Angeles speakers Wald studied used inversion only with wh-questions and never with yes/no questions: (32)

a. He asked me where did I live. b. He asked did I live there. (Wald 1987: 60)

3.2.

Modals

More recently, Wald (1996) studied modals in East Los Angeles ChcE. Among other issues, Wald examined the use of would in if-clauses with both stative and non-stative verbs, as in (33): (33)

If he’d be here right now, he’d make me laugh.

(Wald 1996: 520)

Owing to the relative rarity of the construction in his data, Wald was only able to analyze a small number of tokens. In the 39 tokens that he did examine, he found that would was used much more frequently with non-stative than with stative verbs (Wald 1996: 521–522) and suggested that use of would with hypothetical clauses might be more common in ChcE than in other varieties as a result of substrate influence. Fought (2003) also briefly discusses the use of modals in Los Angeles ChcE. She notes the extension of could rather than can to mean competence: (34)

Nobody believes that you could fix anything.

(Fought 2003: 100)

Fought states that this particular usage was very common in her data. She further notes that it has not been documented for AAVE, does not appear to have any rela-

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tionship to Spanish syntactic patterns, and is not found in the speech of the Anglos she interviewed. Thus, this would seem to be an independent innovation in ChcE. 3.3.

Prepositions

The use of prepositions is one area of ChcE grammar where Spanish influence seems likely: (35)

And we used to go stand in the porch cause they never used to let us in the house. You used to go stand in the porch and look at the t.v. through the window. (LA, f, 52)

(36)

We start on July. (SA, m, 17)

The nonstandard use of in in (35) and on in (36) appears, superficially at least, to originate in the fact that in Spanish both meanings are expressed by en. However, the majority of prepositions in our data are used as they are in standard English, as in (37) and (38): (37)

I have a sister named Rachel that’s in eighth grade. (SA, m, 12)

(38)

I don’t like um, what’s it called, being in clubs and all that. (SA, f, 12)

To fully understand the use of nonstandard prepositions in ChcE, we need more systematic studies to identify which prepositions are involved and whether particular contexts favor the use of forms that diverge from the surrounding dialect. 3.4.

Zero subject pronouns

As is well known, Spanish is a pro-drop language. That is, personal subject pronouns may be expressed overtly, as in Yo quiero... (I want) or they may be omitted, as in Quiero... ([I] want). Zero subject pronouns are also occasionally found in ChcE as well, e.g. (39)

I tried that door. Over and over and over. I moved the lock. Ø locks from the inside. (LA, m, 34)

Compared to the Mexican Spanish substrate, in which most pronominal subjects are realized as null, zero pronoun use in ChcE is very rare. Without further investigation, it is premature to attribute the relatively infrequent absence of subject pronouns in ChcE to Spanish influence.

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4.

383

Quantitative studies of Chicano English

Thus far, we have outlined morphosyntactic features where ChcE differs from prescriptive norms and noted that many of these features are common to a range of English vernacular dialects. In fact, Chambers (2003: 265–266) refers to a number of these features, such as conjugation regularization and negative concord, as “vernacular primitives” because they are pervasive in vernacular dialects and because they result from processes that we may expect to find in nonstandard varieties of other languages as well. However, sociolinguists have long considered as axiomatic the proposition that similarities and differences among language varieties are best investigated not simply by listing features and noting which ones are shared, but by systematically investigating the patterning of constraints on the use of those features. Indeed, in his classic definition of the speech community, Labov gives “the uniformity of abstract patterns of variation which are invariant in respect to particular levels of usage” (1972b: 121) as one of the two main criteria by which membership in a speech community may be judged. Thus, to understand the relationship between ChcE and other English vernaculars with which Chicanos are in contact, we need systematic quantitative studies of ChcE. However, in contrast to many other varieties of English, there have been very few quantitative studies of ChcE morphology and syntax that use standard sociolinguistic methods. In fact, aside from the cases of negative concord (Fought 2003), and relative pronoun choice (Bayley 1999), we do not yet have the quantitative evidence that would allow us to determine whether ChcE patterns are similar to or different from other vernacular dialects. Even in the cases of negative concord and relative pronoun choice, we are limited to a results of two fairly small-scale studies. In this section, then, we will discuss the two variables that have been systematically studied with standard methods of multivariate analysis. 4.1.

Negative concord

Negative concord is one of the most persistent features in vernacular English dialects (Labov 1972a; Wolfram 1969, 1974; Wolfram and Schilling-Estes 1998). As in other vernacular dialects, multiple negation, or negative concord, is common in ChcE, as illustrated by the following examples collected from working class speakers in Los Angeles and San Antonio: (40)

You guys don’t like me no more. You guys don’t come visit me no more. (LA, f, 18)

(41)

I can’t take it no more, you know. (SA, m, 42)

(42)

I wouldn’t go much nowhere. (SA, f, 36)

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Note that all of the speakers who provided examples (40) through (42) are fully proficient in English and began to acquire the language by the age of 5, if not from birth. There is no reason to assume a priori that the type negative concord seen in these and many other examples that we could have provided represent instances of interference from Spanish, although in Spanish, negative concord is obligatory, e.g. (43)

No sabe NEG know-3 sg present ‘He doesn’t know anything.’

nada. nothing

Although most studies of ChcE have commented on the presence of negative concord, only Fought (2003) has investigated the variable in detail, and her study is limited to a relatively small number of tokens from adolescent and young adult speakers in the Los Angeles area. In order to examine the constraints on ChcE negative concord, Fought extracted all of the negative sentences from 28 sociolinguistic interviews, for a total of 323 tokens. She analyzed these tokens to test for the effect of one linguistic and four social factors: syntactic category, social class (middle, working, low income), gang status (gang member, gang affiliated, non-gang member, tagger), bilingualism, and sex. The results of multivariate analysis showed that among the social factors, gang status, social class, and bilingualism all significantly affected speakers’ choices between standard and non-standard negation. Overall, the speakers in Fought’s study used negative concord at a rate of 49 percent. As might be expected, the highest incidence of use was by taggers and gang members and low-income speakers. Bilinguals also favored negative concord. In this respect, the results contrasted with the results for the phonological variables that Fought investigated, where bilingualism had no significant effect. Bilingualism, however, was the least important of the factor groups that achieved statistical significance in the study of negative concord. In contrast to the results of studies of other communities (e.g. Wolfram 1969 on Detroit AAVE), sex was not significant. Women were just as likely to use negative concord as were men. Fought’s (2003) results for syntactic type are shown in Table 1. The table includes the results of statistical analysis after non-significant factor groups had been removed from the model, percentages of occurrence in each environment, and examples of each syntactic type. Fought analyzed the data with VARBRUL, a specialized application of the statistical procedure of logistic regression that has long been used in sociolinguistics. This statistical method allows the researcher to consider simultaneously all of the factors that may potentially influence the use of a specific linguistic form.

Chicano English: morphology and syntax Table 1.

385

Negative concord in Los Angeles Chicano English (source: Fought 2003: 147)

Factor

Example

VARBRUL weight

%

neg aux + adv

I won’t do it no more/any more.

.80

74

neg aux + pronoun

I can’t say nothing/anything.

.65

64

neg in lower clause

I don’t think he did nothing/anything.

.42

25

neg aux + det

They didn’t have a/any/no car.

.35

37

neg adv + other (incl. not)

I never dated nobody/anybody black. ...ticket for not having no/any/Ø/ headlights.

.21

23

neg subj + pro, adv, or det

Nobody said nothing/anything.

.15

22

neg in outside clause

She’s not dead or nothing/anything.

.14

15

Fought’s (2003) results suggest that negative concord in ChcE is subject to systematic linguistic conditioning. As the results in Table 1 show, the syntactic environments considered differ greatly in their effect on speakers’ use of negative concord, ranging from a low of 15 percent for a negative outside the clause to a high of 74 percent for a negative auxiliary plus adverb. In addition to reporting on the results of her study of negative concord in ChcE, Fought also compared the results with AAVE. Although she noted many similarities, including use of negative concord outside the clause, she also found differences. Overall, the incidence of negative concord in Fought’s data was much lower than reported by Labov (1972a) in his study of Harlem in New York City, where some speakers used negative concord almost categorically, or by Wolfram (1974) in his study of Puerto Rican English in East Harlem, where speakers used negative concord at a rate of 87.4 percent. Finally, Fought (2003: 142–143) observed a number of qualitative differences between negative concord in AAVE and in ChcE. In contrast to previous studies of AAVE, she found no instances of negative inversion (e.g. Didn’t nobody play in the sandbox). In addition, negative concord with a negative auxiliary was extremely rare in Fought’s data. She found only one example, produced by a 17-year-old woman: (44)

None of the girls don’t like her.

(Fought 2003: 143)

Fought’s results are clearly valuable, particularly given the rarity of quantitative studies of ChcE syntactic variables. However, more work needs to be done if we want to understand the relationship between negative concord and other ChcE variables on one hand and between the patterning of negative concord in ChcE and other vernacular dialects, particularly AAVE, on the other. Studies of AAVE have

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revealed remarkable similarities in that dialect in cities across the United States. As yet we lack comparable work that would allow us to understand whether the patterns of syntactic variation in ChcE as spoken in cities across the United States are similar to one another or whether they differ from one another as a result of the varieties with which ChcE speakers are in contact. 4.2.

Relative pronoun choice

Relative pronoun choice is the second syntactic variable that has been investigated in ChcE using standard sociolinguistic methodology. In ChcE, as in other varieties of English, a relative pronoun may be realized as a wh-form, that or zero: (45)

This is the house which/that/Ø I told you about.

Although speakers’ choices among the three options shown in example (45) have received less attention in working class and regional American English vernaculars than in standard varieties, a number of scholars have focused on relative pronoun use in vernacular dialects and included working class speakers in their samples (see e.g. Wolfram and Christian 1976 on Appalachian English). Research has documented a number of ways in which vernacular dialects differ from one another with respect to relative pronoun use. However, several general tendencies have emerged that differentiate relative pronoun choice in U.S. vernacular dialects from the more standard varieties. For example, the vernaculars studied to date typically exhibit a high percentage of use of that, particularly with human subject head nouns. In addition, vernacular dialects usually exhibit a higher percentage of zero in all grammatical categories in the embedded clause, including subject position (e.g. I have a friend Ø did that). Bayley (1999) investigated 895 relative clauses, extracted from 37 interviews with children, adolescents, and adults in San Antonio and northern California. The data were coded for a range of linguistic factors that previous studies had indicated might influence speakers’ choices among a wh-form, that, or zero. These included whether the antecedent was human, whether the relative pronoun and the antecedent were adjacent or separated by another relative clause or another element, the syntactic function of the relative pronoun in the relative clause, the grammatical category of the subject of the relative clause (pronoun, noun, or relative pronoun), and a number of other features of the antecedent. In addition, Bayley investigated the effects of age, geographical region, immigrant generation, and social class. Overall results showed a number of differences between ChcE and other dialects. ChcE speakers tended to use that as a relative pronoun at the very high rate of 71 percent, compared to 60 percent reported by Berni (1995) for predominantly Anglo speakers in Oklahoma and 44 percent reported by Guy and Bayley (1995) for upper-class Anglo males. The overall rate of use of wh-forms, at only

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11 percent, was correspondingly low, as was the rate of use of the zero option, 18 percent, compared to the 35 percent reported in Berni’s study of Oklahoma English. Statistical tests with VARBRUL revealed that ChcE relative pronoun choice was constrained by a complex array of linguistic and social factors. Among the social factors, only social class and age reached statistical significance. As might be expected, middle class speakers were more likely to use a wh-form than were working class speakers, particularly with a human antecedent, although both middle and working class speakers used that more frequently than any other option. The results for age present a more complex picture and suggest that younger speakers are converging both with standard and vernacular norms. On the one hand speakers younger than 25 were more likely to use wh-forms. On the other hand, they were also more likely to use zero. These results suggest that the younger speakers have been influenced both by the prescriptive norms taught at school and by features of Anglo or African American vernaculars. Among the linguistic factors, perhaps the most interesting results of Bayley’s (1999) study of relative pronoun choice concern the use of that with human antecedents as in (46): (46)

Some guys I find that I can’t trust them. There’s like one like about one that I find that I could. (SA, f, 15)

These results, shown in Table 2, indicate that like speakers of other English dialects, ChcE speakers favor wh-forms for human antecedents and tend to use that or zero for non-human antecedents. However, even though ChcE speakers favor wh-forms for human antecedents relative to that or zero, the speakers in Bayley’s study still used that for 80 percent of all human antecedents. Table 2. Human and nonhuman antecedents: VARBRUL weights and percentages for that, and wh-, and zero (source: Bayley 1999: 129) that

wh-

zero

VARBRUL weight %

VARBRUL weight %

VARBRUL weight %

+Human

.41

80

.74

12

ns

8

–Human

.58

63

.16

10

ns

28

Input

.75

.11

na

In the cases of both negative concord and relative pronoun choice, research has shown that constraints in ChcE function much as they do among non-Chicano populations. For example, although Fought (2003) found that not all of the types

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of negative concord in AAVE were present in ChcE, examples of negative concord in the environments where it does occur in ChcE may be found in AAVE and other vernacular dialects. Bayley (1999) also found that most of the linguistic constraints on ChcE relative pronoun choice operated in a similar manner for speakers of other vernacular dialects and even for upper-class Anglo speakers, although the actual percentages of use of variants differed substantially. Given these results, the view that ChcE grammatical features are due to simple interference from Spanish is untenable. Interference cannot explain the kind of orderly variation observed in Fought (2003) and Bayley (1999), particularly when we consider the fact that some speakers in those studies were monolingual in English.

5.

Chicano English as an ethnic dialect

The preceding sections of this chapter have shown that most of the features of ChcE morphology and syntax that diverge from prescriptive norms are shared by other vernacular English dialects. However, as we have noted, very few of these features have received the kind of systematic study required to determine if they pattern in the same way as they do in other English dialects. Such studies have the potential to contribute greatly to our understanding of everyday language use in Chicano communities as well as to our understanding of the processes of language maintenance and language shift. Speakers in communities undergoing language shift do not merely shift from one language to another. Rather, they move from one specific variety of a language to a specific variety of another language and, in some cases, create a new variety through which they may express their identity. A recent survey of Latino adults reported that 61 percent of U.S.-born respondents regarded themselves as English-dominant and 35 percent considered themselves bilingual (Brodie et al. 2002: 13). Fully 78 percent of third generation and higher respondents considered themselves English-dominant and only 22 percent considered themselves bilingual (Brodie et al. 2002: 16). While this information is useful in combating the popular misconception that Latinos are unwilling to learn English, broad surveys of self-reported language dominance tell us nothing about the kinds of English that U.S.-born Latinos speak. To answer that question, we need the kind of careful sociolinguistic work that has enriched our understanding of African American speech (see Wolfram, this volume). The issue of possible Spanish influence presents a different but related question. As indicated in the introduction to this chapter, early accounts of ChcE were based on the outdated notion that interference from the first language was the primary cause for divergences between the speech of learners and native-speakers of the target language. Given such an assumption, researchers had no need to do more than compare features of ChcE with features of Spanish. When they found a match, they believed that they also found a cause for the divergence. Clearly

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such a procedure is inadequate. Rather, before we can understand fully the possible influence of Spanish, we need to understand both the linguistic and social constraints on ChcE. Fought’s (2003) finding that bilingual speakers were more likely to use negative concord than were monolingual speakers is intriguing in this regard and suggests that the obligatory nature of negative concord in Spanish may have some effect on ChcE speakers’ choices of a widespread English vernacular pattern. However, we need to know whether bilingualism also influences speakers’ choices of other nonstandard morphosyntactic variants. Only then we will be in a position to evaluate empirically the possible influence of Spanish and to provide a sociolinguistically adequate description of Chicano English. *

Research on this chapter was supported by a University of Texas at San Antonio faculty development leave to Robert Bayley and by a Rockefeller Foundation fellowship at the University of California, Santa Barbara Chicano Studies Center to Otto Santa Ana. We thank Carmen Fought for generously sharing an advance version of her book on Chicano English (Fought 2003).

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Bayley, Robert 1994 Consonant cluster reduction in Tejano English. Language Variation and Change 6: 303–326. 1999 Relativization strategies in Mexican-American English. American Speech 74: 115–139. Berni, Mary 1995 Restrictive relative pronouns in the Survey of Oklahoma Dialects. Paper presented at NWAVE 24, University of Pennsylvania. Brodie, Mallyann, Annie Steffenson, Jaime Valdez, Rebecca Levin and Roberto Suro 2002 2002 National Survey of Latinos. Menlo Park, CA and Washington, DC: Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation and the Pew Hispanic Center. Dailey-O’Cain, Jennifer 2000 The sociolinguistic distribution of and attitudes toward focuser like and quotative like. Journal of Sociolinguistics 4: 60–80. Fought, Carmen 2003 Chicano English in Context. Houndmills/New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Guy, Gregory R. and Robert Bayley 1995 On the choice of relative pronouns in English. American Speech 70: 148– 162. Mendoza-Denton, Norma 1999 Sociolinguistics and linguistic anthropology of U.S. Latinos. Annual Review of Anthropology 28: 375–395.

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Peñalosa, Fernando 1980 Chicano Sociolinguistics: A Brief Introduction. Rowley, MA: Newbury House. Santa Ana, Otto A. 1996 Sonority and syllable structure in Chicano English. Language Variation and Change 8: 63–90. Schumann, John H. 1978 The Pidginization Process: A Model for Second Language Acquisition. Rowley, MA: Newbury House. Wald, Benji 1987 Spanish-English grammatical contact in Los Angeles: The grammar of reported speech in the East Los Angeles contact vernacular. Linguistics 25: 53–80. 1996 Substratal effects on the evolution of modals in East LA English. In: Jennifer Arnold, Renée Blake, Brad Davidson, Scott Schwenter and Julie Solomon (eds.), Sociolinguistic Variation: Data, Theory and Analysis, 515–530. Stanford, CA: Center for the Study of Language and Information. Wolfram, Walt 1974 Sociolinguistic Aspects of Assimilation: Puerto Rican English in New York City. Washington, DC: Center for Applied Linguistics.

Bahamian English: morphology and syntax* Jeffrey Reaser and Benjamin Torbert

1.

Introduction

Given the discontinuous settlement of the Bahamas by various groups, one would expect a great deal of linguistic diversity. The geophysical separation of the islands and imposed racial boundaries have prevented the formation of a homogeneous, pan-Bahamian speech variety. Some research has noted similarities between Afro-Bahamian English (AfBahE) and African American Vernacular English (AAVE) (Holm with Shilling 1982; Shilling 1978), while other research has drawn comparisons between Gullah and AfBahE (Holm 1983). Despite this attention to potential donor sources for the Afro-Bahamian population, little attention has been paid to the linguistic status of the Anglo-Bahamian population, a group that further complicates efforts to describe “Bahamian English”. Hypothesized relatedness of Gullah, AAVE, and AfBahE, especially on southern out islands, is supported by historical settlement records that indicate a number of slaves brought to Exuma, Cat Island, and Crooked Island were likely from Gullah-speaking areas, whereas slaves or freed slaves on other islands may have come from non-Gullah speaking areas of the North American mainland. Given the range of varieties originally brought to the Bahamas during the early settlement, which (potentially) included colonial Bermudian English, British Cockney, RP, Scots English, an earlier African American variety, and Gullah, it should be no surprise that there remains a great deal of grammatical diversity in the Bahamas today. Urban varieties spoken in Nassau and Freeport, as described by Hackert (2004), differ from those spoken in the Southern Bahamas and those on other out islands (cf. Childs, Reaser, and Wolfram 2003). Further, various researchers have noted an ability of Bahamians to style-shift between acrolectal and basilectal varieties, and an ability to imitate, at least to some degree, symbolic Jamaican indicators, depending on the discourse environment. Thus, describing all the grammatical variation in Bahamian English (BahE) would require a much more rigorous survey of islands and communities than has been done and remains outside the scope of this study. The description found here represents the compilation of observations by many researchers, drawing especially on the work of John Holm, Alison Shilling, and Stephanie Hackert, who have contributed greatly to the knowledge of the grammatical system of BahE. This description also draws on more than 80

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interviews conducted by various members of the North Carolina Language and Life Project with the residents of Cherokee Sound and Sandy Point, on Abaco Island. These speakers tend to be more acrolectal than the varieties described in other studies, which may be a reflection of skilled style-shifting on the part of our informants. It is worth noting that Abaco has a much larger percentage of Anglo residents (roughly 50%) than other islands in the Bahamas (roughly 15%) and therefore, Afro-Bahamian residents may not have undergone the same degree of basilectalization as areas with higher concentrations of Afro-Bahamian residents, including Nassau and Freeport. It appears that basilectalization may be a largely urban phenomenon, and not an active process in the formation of out islander speech.

2.

The linguistic status of Bahamian varieties

The linguistic diversity found in the Bahamas makes labeling the variety problematic. In Ian Hancock’s (1971: 509–525) original survey of pidgin and creole languages, BahE is not included as a creole variety, although he later revised this assessment. While it seems that the general consensus, based on the inclusion of Bahamian English in the work of Holm (1988–1989) and Wells (1982) as well as other publications, is that BahE (or at least AfBahE) is a creole variety, existing somewhere between AAVE and more creolized varieties such as Jamaican Creole (JamC). As Holm (1983: 314) concludes, since “such a great variety of overlapping linguistic features is involved that even within a given community one simply cannot say – except with total arbitrariness – where Gullah leaves off and black English begins”. AfBahE exists somewhere in this range, with some speech communities more clearly creolized (or basilectalized) than others. Discerning whether AfBahE is a creole or not, however, is not the goal of this chapter. For this reason, we will refer to varieties spoken in the Bahamas collectively as “Englishes” rather than “Creoles”. Further, while it is established that there is overlap of linguistic features between ethnic varieties (Holm 1980), and that locally, ethnicities and ethnic labeling is far more complex than a binary taxonomy would suggest, for clarity and concision, we will refer to the varieties of English spoken by the white or light-skinned Bahamians as Anglo-Bahamian English (AnBahE) and the varieties spoken by the black or mixed Bahamians as Afro-Bahamian English (AfBahE). Even so, we acknowledge that there are often no clear racial boundaries in the Bahamas, which include British, American, African, American Indian, Haitian, and mixed heritages of all combinations. Given the fairly well documented history of settlement (Albury 1975; Holm 1980, 1983, 1988–1989; Craton and Saunders 1992) and the sociohistorical dynamics that have shaped the communities, linguistic data from the Bahamas may provide substantive insight into social and linguistic processes in terms of lan-

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guage divergence from and convergence to American, British, or Caribbean creole norms, issues of creolization and decreolization, and ethnolinguistic demarcation and accommodation. Skilled register shifting has been noted in other varieties of English including both creole and non-creole varieties. This shifting alone makes discerning the status of AfBahE difficult, and makes the question: “what is true Bahamian English”, a difficult or impossible question to answer. Complicating this question are differences between urban and non-urban varieties; ethnic segregation; different levels of exposure to tourism; and more and more, immigration from non-English speaking areas such as Haiti. However, much can be learned from BahE and its relation to other varieties in the Americas and beyond. What follows is a grammatical profile of prototypical AnBahE, mesolectal AfBahE, and basilectal AfBahE, organized by grammatical category.

3.

The grammar of Bahamian English

3.1.

Verb phrase structures

3.1.1. Copula absence and leveling The copula has been studied extensively in American vernaculars (e.g., Wolfram 1969; Fasold 1972; Labov 1972a; Baugh 1983; Rickford 1999) in varieties spoken in transplant communities (e.g., Walker 2000: 35–72), in creole varieties of English (e.g., Rickford 1999; Patrick 1999) and in BahE (Shilling 1978; Hackert 2004). Generally, Anglo vernaculars tend to align more closely with prescriptive norms than do Afro varieties, both quantitatively and qualitatively. It is more difficult to generalize about Creole varieties, as many creoles have alternate forms such as JamC’s da (Holm 1984, 1988–1989) or a redistribution of standard forms. Shilling (1980: 136) reports that in the AfBahE basilect, “there is only the form is, with am and are very seldom appearing”. In more acrolectal Bahamian varieties, including AnBahE, leveling to is (they’s nice) occurs but at a drastically reduced rate, and present tense copula forms generally coincide with StE full and contracted forms. Both AfBahE and AnBahE varieties conform to AmE patterning, whereby Afro varieties exhibit more extensive absence than Anglo varieties, and are is more prone to absence than is. Despite this similarity, important differences exist between these and other Caribbean and American varieties. Our own observations on mesolectal AfBahE reveal an unusual pattern, whereby am is more prone to absence than is, a pattern not attested elsewhere in the Caribbean. While other creole varieties have demonstrated significant absence of first-person copula forms, these creoles typically do not utilize prescriptive am, is, and are forms, making this attribute somewhat of an anomaly.

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AnBahE is characterized by high rates of copula absence preceding adjectival phrases (She_ nice). Elevated conditioning rates of predicate adjectives are associated with creole varieties including Gullah and JamC (Holm 1984). Shilling (1978: 27) suggests that this pattern persists “because in the basilect these [adjectives] are stative verbs”. However, while this pattern is also attested in basilectal and mesolectal AfBahE, the persistence of this pattern in AnBahE should not be considered evidence that AnBahE is a creole variety. Absence of past tense copula is another feature often associated with creole varieties. Though relatively limited, absence of was (and was and were in the AfBahE mesolect) is a feature of AfBahE. This feature, however, is ethnically distributed in the Bahamas and past tense copula forms are almost categorically present in AnBahE (Shilling 1980). Like present tense leveling to is, leveling of the past tense verb paradigm to the single form was is common in varieties around the world. Wolfram and Schilling-Estes (1998: 336) note that “[v]irtually all vernacular varieties show” this pattern. It is not surprising, therefore, to find leveling to was in both AfBahE and AnBahE. More basilectal varieties exhibit elevated rates of leveled and reduced forms (/()z/) (Shilling 1980). Positive leveling to were is also weakly attested. As with present tense forms of be, more acrolectal varieties, such as those found on Abaco, more closely approximate StE norms for was/were distinctions. 3.1.2. Finite be One of the most salient features of AAVE is the finite use of the verb be as a habitual marker (e.g. Sometimes my ears be itching). Shilling (1980) reports the related form bes for all grammatical subjects to signify habitual or durative status in AnBahE. Interviews with AnBahE speakers in Cherokee Sound included the habitual, She bes home nearly all the time and the durative, He bes out in the yard. Bes in Cherokee Sound is limited to third person subjects, while be occurs with both third person and other grammatical subjects. Shilling (1980) found that finite forms of be are more frequent in AfBahE than AnBahE. AfBahE speakers almost categorically favor be over bes for all grammatical subjects, closely resembling the AAVE usage of this form. She reports that finite forms of be often occur in a does+be+Verb-ing pattern and can reference present We does be reading play every time or past tense, She know two people does be sleeping in this bed (Shilling 1980). In these contexts, the auxiliary sometimes appears in reduced forms realized as /z/ or /z/, resulting in utterances such as They think they’s be actin’ sharp but they’s just be looking tired (Shilling 1980). The commonness of this feature in AfBahE may provide evidence for Rickford’s (1974) hypothesis that habitual be in AAVE is derived from a does+be+Verb-ing pattern found in earlier AAVE. Habituals in other Caribbean creoles such as JamC typically require alternate copula forms such

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as a or de, further distancing BahE from other Creoles (Winford 1993; Patrick 1999). Recent interviews on Abaco Island suggest that be can be used even in nonhabitual or non-durative constructions, such as the perfective be in you must be ate some sometime, produced by elderly AnBahE speaker. The AfBahE speakers from Abaco also exhibit variation with respect to widespread Bahamian patterns including the example where the boats’s be now for ‘where the boats does be now’. The form bes also appears in mesolectal AfBahE, but is not attested in studies of the basilect, suggesting potential accommodation to the Anglo population, which is, demographically, more numerous on Abaco (roughly 50%) than elsewhere in the Bahamas (roughly 15%). 3.1.3. Perfective I’m Widespread during the seventeenth century, the use of inflected forms of perfective be (I’m been there for ‘I’ve been there’) has been relegated to infrequent use in varieties in the American Southeast; most notably as an ethnic marker in Lumbee English in Robeson County, North Carolina (Wolfram and Schilling-Estes 1998). Interviews with AnBahE speakers from Abaco Island reveal alternation between perfective be and standard have constructions, with older residents favoring the former. This form does not appear to be a part of AfBahE. Constructions that typically take “I’m” in AnBahE such as __got or __been are realized occasionally with a full form (have), but more typically with a contracted form (’ve), or most often without an auxiliary as in I __ been to the doctor in Marsh Harbour. Perfective you’re (You’re been there) has been observed in AnBahE, though its use is infrequent and much less salient than perfective I’m. 3.1.4. Auxiliary done Wolfram and Schilling-Estes (1998) note that completive done is found in both AAVE and in Southern American English (SAmE). Many creoles differ from the AmE pattern, lacking tense marking with this form, leading to utterances such as She’s done send the photographs. Hackert (2004) attests extensive use of the creole done+bare root pattern for irregular verbs in urban AfBahE though only sparse use in AnBahE. Shilling (1980) also suggests that non-urban basilectal AfBahE tends to lack past tense marking, though she does not control for consonant cluster reduction, as in the example I done ask forgiveness for that. Our own observations of monoethnic enclaves on Abaco Island reveal that both AfBahE and AnBahE speakers use completive done frequently in interviews though they favor the non-creole form, She done sent the photographs. The fact that in the United States, completive done in Anglo varieties is restricted to the South may help

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establish a historical connection between research communities on Abaco Island and the Southern United States, while the lack of completive done in other white Bahamian enclaves may help establish a historical connection with settlers from the Northern United States, again, calling to mind the sundry groups responsible for shaping the history of the Bahamas. The subtle differences between realizations of this feature again demonstrate the range of linguistic varieties spoken in the Bahamas. 3.1.5. Irregular verbs and past tense The taxonomy of six distinctive alternate forms of irregular past tense, identified by Wolfram and Christian (1976) can be summarized as follows: (1) ambiguous verbs such as come, which may be either a past participle substituted for preterit, a perfect whose auxiliary has been deleted, or a bare root; (2) substitution of the preterit for the past participle; (3) past participle substituted for the preterit; (4) unambiguous bare root forms; (5) regularization; and (6) different strong forms. Not surprisingly, Hackert (2004) reports significant past tense zero in urban areas of the Bahamas. Mesolectal AfBahE from Abaco exhibits lower, but still robust rates of zero inflections; AnBahE informants seldom stray from StE forms of past tense. Have and do, whether main verb or auxiliary, are seldom unmarked. By comparison, rates of past tense unmarking are not as robust in the ex-slave Recordings (Bailey, Maynor, and Cukor-Avila 1991) or in Samaná, Dominica, and North Preston and Guysborough, Nova Scotia (Poplack and Tagliamonte 2001). Additionally, AfBahE features a variety of periphrastic marking with did and used to (Hackert 2004). Other irregular forms of preterit and past participle, widespread in other areas (e.g. Appalachian English [AppE]) are weakly attested in all these studies. Unmarked past tense is one of the clearer indicators of a creole residue in AfBahE. Though standard preterits and past participles are plentiful among many speakers, and past tense variation fluctuates from individual to individual, Bahamian unmarking does not approach speakers of Trinidadian Creole (TrnC) or JamC whose speakers exhibit near-categorical past tense zero (Winford 1993; Patrick 1999). Hackert (2004) discusses the ramifications of AfBahE past tense variation for aspectual systems, but detailed discussion of this topic is beyond the scope of this chapter. The popular conception of BahE past tense marking, according to More Talkin’ Bahamian, is “Very simple! Just get rid of all those superfluous ‘-ed’s’ from your verb endings and use the present tense form” (Glinton-Meicholas 1995: 10). This simplified version, which may be an epiphenomenon of consonant cluster reduction, leading to elevated levels of surface unmarking of weak verbs, seems to be most descriptive of basilectal speakers. Albury (1981: 21) provides a more detailed hierarchy known as the ‘flip-flop rule’:

Bahamian English: morphology and syntax

Basilectal: Mid-mesolectal: Upper-mesolectal: Acrolectal:

397

zero zero with variable overt past marking t/d/
d with variable zero marking t/d/
d

3.1.6. Subject-verb concord Subject-verb concord patterns in StE reflect redundant and non-productive reflexes of the Old English inflectional system such as verbal -s attachment following third singular subjects, as in, the woman walks. Often, Southern AmE, especially AppE, will attach -s to verbs following third person plural noun phrases, as in people walks (Wolfram and Christian 1976). With the exception of finite be, the pattern of attaching -s to verbs following collective nouns is not found in AnBahE, despite the potential for historical ties between Southern AmE and BahE. AnBahE seems to follow prescriptive norms, attaching an -s only when following third singular subjects. This is to be expected, as third singular -s absence is generally not a part of Anglo-American vernaculars in North America (Wolfram and Thomas 2002). Mesolectal AfBahE exhibits more -s variation. The same AfBahE speaker produces an -s with a collective (Some people lays down for nine months), and with a singular pronoun subject, often first person (I buys fireworks from over there or I goes in the water), as well as utterances that follow prescriptive norms (the men work hard). It should be noted that -s attachment following first singular I is not limited to historical present in narratives, but can be found with some regularity in more general conversational styles. Third singular -s absence appears variably, and speakers tend to exhibit both -s absence and -s attachment with third singular subjects (Our daughter live_ in Brunswick, Georgia … she works over there). Whether the subject is a pronoun or a noun phrase seems to matter little, if at all. Instead, it appears as though the attachment or absence of verbal inflectional -s is an optional process in AfBahE. The variable presence of morphological -s in AfBahE distinguishes the variety from JamC and basilectal TrnC (Patrick 1999). 3.1.7. Questions Shilling (1978: 50) notes that basilectal AfBahE speech lacks “inversion for questions” a prototypical creole feature. Holm’s (1980: 62) sole white informant from Inagua Island lacks subject-verb inversion, suggesting possible creole or African influence on AnBahE. Our own observations reveal a good deal of individual variation with respect to question formation. While some speakers categorically invert questions, and others have categorically non-inverted question formation, the vast majority of speakers alternate between constructions. This co-occurs with auxiliary deletion, occasionally making it difficult to determine the position in which the auxiliary would exist (e.g. you going? may be inverted are you going?

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on non-inverted you are going?). Alternation between standard and non-standard constructions can be found in speakers of all ages and in both communities, perhaps suggesting that there is limited accommodation of this feature by AnBahE, while simultaneously reaffirming that AfBahE speakers do have access to StE interrogative formation. Of course, the alternation between inverted and non-inverted forms is not necessarily atypical as, even in StE, a speaker can signal a question through rising intonation, thus, Have you been there? may be just as easily be asked as You’ve been there?, which lacks the subject-verb inversion but productively asks the same question. One notable aspect of question formation in the AnBahE variety of Cherokee Sound is the use of perfective be in questions elicited during conversational speech, as in How long I’m been in Cherokee? 3.1.8. Adverbs AnBahE has preserved some now (in mainstream English) archaic intensifiers. Most common is the use of right as an intensifier in expanded contexts such as that’s right nice of you, a form found as early as Middle English but now restricted to temporal and locative contexts in StE. 3.2.

Noun phrase structures

3.2.1. Plurals Poplack, Tagliamonte and Eze (2000) provide a classification system of noun types and patterns of plurals in English-based creoles and AAVE. Many vernacular varieties do not require an -s following measure nouns premodified by a numeral, as in I walked four mile_ yesterday. Others exhibit regularization of irregular plurals (e.g. two deers, four fishes) and even, occasionally, double-marked plurals where StE vowel alternation is preserved (e.g. three mens). Creole languages, like JamC, often mark plurals by inserting dem either before or after a noun or through extensively leveled patterns of pluralization (Patrick 1999). Although BahE pluralization has not been studied as rigorously as the varieties in Poplack, Tagliamonte and Eze (2000), various publications have commented that BahE plurals are extremely irregular. Glinton-Meicholas (1995: 10) sums up BahE plurals as follows: “You don’t have to add a plural ending at all – ‘I had four husband’. Or you can add the ending ‘-dem’; e.g. ‘De boy-dem playin’ hockey’; Or you can have yourself a ball and add ‘s’ and ‘-dem’; e.g. ‘De boys-dem playin’ ball’.” Glinton-Meicholas’ observation that there are multiple manifestations of plurals in BahE seems consistent with other observations of BahE. Shilling’s (1980) examples seem to suggest an ethnic division whereby AnBahE speakers tend to have standard plural -s attachment while AfBahE speakers tend to have

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variable marking of plurals. However, the basilectal speakers do not have categorical unmarked plurals, but instead alternate between marked and unmarked forms. Even Shilling’s basilectal speakers (1978: 56–57) tend to exhibit at least some standard plural -s attachment, including following count nouns, an environment that often does not take plural as in I think he bout two months now. Traditional creole dem is not attested in her data, and standard realizations of irregular plurals suggest that even basilectal AfBahE may not align closely with creole patterns of pluralization. 3.2.2. Possessives Possessive -s inflection also reveals a strong ethnic division. Generally, in AnBahE, possessive pronouns are most common, favored over constructions that require morphological possessive -s. Me and my seem interchangeable in AnBahE but not in AfBahE, as in me children and grandchildren. That’s my grandson. Cases in which possessive inflection would be required in StE typically have standard -s inflection, as in I used to keep my truck … down at a friend’s [house]. AfBahE speakers occasionally use they or theys in place of their or theirs, as in They bring they own equipment, it’s theys boat, or what’s ours is ours and what theys is theys. The StE possessive -s is almost categorically absent from even mesolectal AfBahE, where possession is marked either by a pronoun or by syntactic proximity, as in My son_ truck. 3.2.3. Pronouns Present-day English lacks a distinction between singular and plural you, while some varieties have innovated forms to distinguish between these subjects, including Southern AmE y’all, AppE you’uns, and Northern AmE youse. Holm (1983: 308), drawing on the work of the folklorist Elsie Clews Parsons, reports that the Gullah second plural pronoun oonah is restricted to the island of San Salvador, but that the related form yonner is found on Andros and that the most frequent form today is yinna. Holm notes that yinnuh and yunnah are both found in Gullah, and uses this as evidence of the relatedness of these varieties. Glinton-Meicholas (1995) reports that both yinna and y’all can be found in the Bahamas for second plural subjects. The data from Abaco fail to strengthen the Gullah connection, however, as standard you occurs in every utterance except one – which features y’all – in AnBahE and every instance in AfBahE. One of the most salient features of AnBahE, and the feature that Shilling (1980: 137) claims offers “the clearest difference between [AnBahE] and [AfBahE]” is the use of existential it in sentences like it’s not many people around here or It was Indians that probably lived here. While AnBahE uses it for existential there far more frequently (categorically for some speakers) than AfBahE, existential it

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does occur in AfBahE. Shilling (1978) claims that this only occurs when an AfroBahamian community is near an all-white settlement, but it is found with some frequency in both the older and younger speakers from Sandy Point, a monoethnic community more than thirty miles from the nearest all-white (or even mixed) settlement. Mesolectal AfBahE speakers alternate between it and there for existential constructions, while Shilling’s (1980: 138) basilectal speakers often lacked existential markers altogether as in wasn’t nothing to do then like today. Other pronouns in AnBahE also exhibit variation. What can be used as a relative pronoun for both human and non-humans, in utterances such as The road what they got there and My auntie what’s dead. This can be found in AfBahE, but less frequently than in AnBahE or in Gullah (Mufwene 1986). 3.2.4. Negation Like many vernacular varieties of English, both AnBahE and AfBahE exhibit negative concord and frequent use of ain’t. Negative concord seems to be the typical negation pattern, although still variable in BahE, as is I didn’t have no parents and he didn’t have any parents, which features both variants in the same utterance. Negative concord occurs most commonly in post-verbal position (I don’t have none here) but occasionally in a preverbal position (nobody don’t have none here), and is often inverted (Didn’t want to stay no longer than I had to). Cross-clausal negative concord differs semantically in Bahamian speech from enclave varieties in the Southeast U.S. and AAVE (cf. Labov 1972a; Wolfram and Christian 1976). Instead, tokens that exhibit this pattern, such as ain’t much Bahamians can’t do would be interpreted not as ‘there isn’t much Bahamians can do’, but rather that ‘Bahamians are capable of doing most things’. In BahE, ain’t functions in much the same way as it does in most vernacular dialects. Ain’t can be used instead of negative forms of be as in ain’t no tennis court around here, as well as in place of negative forms of have/has (i.e., ‘haven’t,’ ‘hasn’t’) as in I ain’t never been there, a domain that in BahE alternates with don’t as in she don’t/ain’t got no husband. Mesolectal BahE does not use ain’t in place of ‘didn’t’ as AAVE does, although it does appear in the basilect. 3.2.5. Prepositions Among the more salient variants in prepositional phrases is static locative to. While AfBahE exhibits variable use of to and standard forms, AnBahE uses to nearly categorically in constructions such as She’s down to the long dock. To can also be found in place of a number of other prepositions in BahE, including on, as in Put them to your feet; in, as in He lives to Marsh Harbour; from, as in they do it to Marsh Harbour more than they do from here (‘they hunt more from Marsh Harbour’); and over/during, as in my granddaughter been here to Christmas. Oc-

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casionally, to, or another preposition, will be absent in AfBahE speakers, such as They go __ Marsh Harbour; this absence, also noted by Glinton-Meicholas (1995: 11), does not seem to be a part of AnBahE. 3.3.

Lexical items

The Bahamian lexicon may be the most documented aspect of BahE. Collections of common Bahamian usages have been compiled in various places such as the Dictionary of Bahamian English (Holm with Shilling 1982) and More Talkin’ Bahamian (Glinton-Meicholas 1995). Lexical evidence has been used to attempt to establish the provenience of Bahamian settlers. Holm (1980: 50) cites a number of lexical items that occur on out islands and in Gullah, but not other creoles such as “hoe-cake ‘cornmeal cake,’ gutlin,’ ‘greedy,’ sperrit, ‘ghost,’ Hoppin’ John ‘beans and rice,’ and ninny ‘breast’”. Holm (1983) cites these and other lexical items shared by BahE and Gullah in an attempt to establish the relatedness of these varieties, though it should be noted that these terms are not known in all areas of the Bahamas. Further, some Bahamian lexical items, such as obeah, ‘witchcraft’, gumbay, ‘social gathering’, and jumbey, ‘spirit’, have African origins. One lexical dimension worth noting is the taxonomy of ethnicity. While individuals from certain communities have specific labels such as Crabs (people from Hope Town) or Cigillians (people from Spanish Wells), more general labels are used to describe broad demographic groups in the Bahamas (Holm 1980). The term white is used to cover a broad spectrum that entails racially mixed locals and even some “light-skinned American blacks” (Holm 1980: 54). Conchy Joe or Conky Joe is the term locally used to describe what Americans would classify as “white”. The term can carry a derogatory connotation in the Bahamas, and locally, this group tends to describe themselves as white and the rest of the Bahamas as black, or Negro. Afro-Bahamians locally refer to themselves as black or simply as Bahamians. Like other marine-based communities, the Bahamas have noteworthy lexical items describing aspects of the ocean and marine life, though few are unique to the islands. One of the principal sources for money in many non-tourist based Bahamian economies is crawfishing for what are more commonly called (Caribbean) spiny lobster or Panulirus argus. Additionally, eels are called morays: a semantic broadening of the term. Bahamians have also adapted topographical terms to describe the subtleties of the islands, including the British definition of creek to mean an inlet or recess of the sea and spit for a point of land extending into the sea. Many more nautical and geotopical terms vary from community to community, and may be referenced in the sources mentioned above. One slightly unusual usage that is not documented in these sources that is found on Abaco is the use of quit in place of leave or left. This form has only surfaced in the speech of elderly AfBahE speakers in examples such as, some of the people quit during hurricanes;

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they asked them to quit. They didn’t quit, I mean the storm come. The storm kill everybody but one man and a dog there; and only was just a few colored people, we quit and come out here.

4.

Conclusions

The various histories of individual islands and groups are reflected in the extensive linguistic variation of features between basilectal speech, acrolectal speech, and ethnically demarcated varieties. The various Englishes of the Bahamas do not align isomorphically with any U.S., British, or Caribbean creole variety. Bi-dialecticism and style-shifting may further complicate potential comparisons. Linguistic processes such as decreolization, accommodation, potential basilectalization, and social factors such as segregation, integration, and more recently, tourism and Haitian immigration further complicate questions regarding linguistic inputs to various islands. Despite the complexities involved in describing a pan-Bahamian variety and the elusiveness of documenting the sociohistorical and linguistic explanations for current of linguistic features, there is a clear indication that there is bilateral accommodation between both AnBahE and AfBahE. Nonetheless, there exists a persistent qualitative and quantitative ethnolinguistic division. Further, the varieties currently spoken at both the basilectal and acrolectal extremes remain uniquely Bahamian with respect to lexical and grammatical features and pseudo-ethnolinguistic marking, as can be seen in the comparative Tables 1 through 3. Linguistic preservation, innovation, decreolization, basilectalization, and accommodation, have created unique patternings of linguistic varieties in the Bahamas. Research on these varieties can help researchers better understand linguistic processes, as well as adding important information with respect to documenting and explaining the forces that have given birth to modern varieties of English in the Caribbean, the U.S., and around the world.

Table 1.

Comparative dialect profile of the verb phrase

Grammatical Structure

AngloBahamian

Mesolectal AfroBahamian

Agreement 3rd pl. -s marking e.g. The dogs barks

¸

(¸)

3rd sg. -s absence e.g. The dog bark

(¸)

Basilectal AfroBahamian

Jamaican Creole

Gullah

AAVE

¸

¸

¸

¸

403

Bahamian English: morphology and syntax Table 1. (continued) Grammatical Structure

Be Finite be e.g. It bes like that Perfective be e.g. I’m been there Is leveling e.g. They’s home was leveling e.g. We was there Copula are absence e.g. You ugly is absence e.g. He ugly am absence e.g. I ugly Past tense copula absence e.g. She [was] here Alternate forms e.g. da Questions Non-inverted questions e.g. They are home?

Comparative dialect profile of the verb phrase AngloBahamian

Mesolectal AfroBahamian

Basilectal AfroBahamian

Jamaican Creole

Gullah

AAVE

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

(¸)

¸

¸*

¸

(¸)

¸

¸

¸

¸*

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸*

¸

¸

(¸)

¸

¸

¸*

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸*

(¸)

(¸)

¸

¸

(¸)

(¸)

¸

(¸)

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

(¸)

Other auxiliaries Double modals e.g. He might could come Completive done e.g. He done fix(ed) it Stressed remote bin e.g. He bin go Irregular past tense (1) ambiguous forms e.g. He come over here (2) pret. for past part. e.g. She had went (3) past part. for pret. e.g. I seen her (4) bare root e.g. He run yesterday (5) Regularization e.g. He growed up tall (6) different strong form e.g. He retch up the roof *

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

(¸)

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

(¸)

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

(¸)

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

JamC uses few standard copula forms in the basilect, and therefore there is not extensive is-leveling or are absence per se, but there is extensive leveling to and absence of other non-standard forms or where Standard English would have these copula forms.

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Table 2.

Comparative dialect profile of nominals

Grammatical structure

-s-pl. absence e.g. 40 pound_

AngloBahamian

Mesolectal AfroBahamian

Basilectal AfroBahamian

Jamaican Creole

Gullah

AAVE

(¸)

(¸)

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

Plural dem e.g. The dem-boy playing Regularized plurals e.g. Oxes, sheeps

(¸)

2nd pl. y’all e.g. Y’all are a crowd

(¸)

¸

¸

2nd pl. Yinnah or related form e.g. Yinna are a crowd Existential it e.g. It’s no place to go

¸

¸

¸

Embedded null subject pro e.g. It’s a woman come here

¸

¸

¸

Pronominal what e.g. The man what I talked to

¸

(¸) (¸)

Possessive ‘s absence e.g. My Son_ truck

Table 3.

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

¸

¸ (¸)

¸

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

(¸)

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

Comparative dialect profile: negation, adverbs, prepositions

Grammatical structure

AngloBahamian

Mesolectal AfroBahamian

Basilectal AfroBahamian

Jamaican Creole

Gullah

AAVE

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

(¸)

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

Negation Postverbal concord e.g. It wasn’t nothing

Preverbal concord (¸) e.g. Nobody don’t like it Inverted concord (¸) e.g. Didn’t want to stay no longer than I had to Affirmative cross-clausal e.g. Ain’t nothing nobody had ain’t for be+not, have+not e.g. She ain’t there ain’t for did+not e.g. I ain’t go

¸

¸

405

Bahamian English: morphology and syntax Table 3. (continued)

Comparative dialect profile: negation, adverbs, prepositions

Grammatical structure

AngloBahamian

Mesolectal AfroBahamian

Basilectal AfroBahamian

(¸)

(¸)

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸

(¸)

¸

Adverbs Intensifying right e.g. He’s right smart Prepositions Static locative to e.g. She’s to the dock to for other prepositions e.g. Put them to your throat Deleted propositions e.g. They go __ Florida

Jamaican Creole

¸

Gullah

AAVE

¸

¸

¸

¸

¸ ¸

¸

* The research in this analysis was supported by NSF Grant No. BCS-9910224 and the William C. Friday Endowment at North Carolina State University. We would like to thank Walt Wolfram, Peter Patrick, and Tracy Weldon for their help with this chapter.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Albury, Anne 1981 The status of the -ed-suffix in Black Bahamian English. M.A. thesis, University College London. Albury, Paul 1975 The Story of the Bahamas. London: Macmillan. Childs, Becky, Jeffrey Reaser, and Walt Wolfram 2003 Defining ethnic varieties in the Bahamas: Phonological accommodation in black and white enclave communities. In: Aceto and Williams (eds.), 1–28. Craton, Michael and Gail Saunders 1992 Islanders in the Stream: A History of the Bahamian People, 2 Volumes. Athens: University of Georgia Press. Glinton-Meicholas, Patricia 1995 More Talkin’ Bahamian. Nassau: Guanima Press. Hancock, Ian 1971 A map and list of pidgin and creole languages. In: Hymes (ed.), 509–525. Holm, John 1980 African features in white Bahamian Speech. English World-Wide 1: 45–65. 1983 On the relationship of Gullah and Bahamian. American Speech 58: 303–318. 1984 Variability of the copula in Black English and its creole kin. American Speech 59: 291–309.

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Holm, John with Alison Shilling 1982 Dictionary of Bahamian English. Cold Spring, NY: Lexik House. Mufwene, Salikoko S. 1986 Restrictive relativization in Gullah. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 1: 1–31. Poplack, Shana, Sali Tagliamonte and Ejike Eze 2000 Reconstructiong the source of Early African American English plural marking: A comparative study of English and Creole. In: Poplack (ed.), 73–105. Shilling, Alison 1978 Some non-standard features on Bahamian Dialect syntax. Ph.D. dissertation, Department of Linguistics, University of Hawaii. 1980 Bahamian English – a non-continuum? In: Day (ed.), 133–145. Walker, James A. 2000 Rephrasing the copula: contraction and zero in Early African American English. In: Poplack (ed.), 35–72.

Jamaican Creole: morphology and syntax Peter L. Patrick

1.

Introduction

Jamaican Creole (JamC, known to its speakers as Patwa) is a language of ethnic identification for roughly two and a half million people in the island of Jamaica, and overseas for many thousands of native speakers (and non-natives, see British Creole (BrC) chapters.) JamC is a canonical example of an Atlantic Creole. One of the first Caribbean English-lexicon Creoles to be described using modern linguistic methods (Loftman 1953; Cassidy 1961), it remains among the best-researched. The first generative grammar of a Creole was Bailey’s Jamaican Creole Syntax (1966). The first comprehensive etymological dictionary of a Creole was Cassidy and Le Page’s Dictionary of Jamaican English (1967, hereafter DJE). 1.1.

History

JamC owes little or nothing to either the indigenous Arawaks or Spanish invaders, starting with Columbus in 1494, who settled the island in 1509, bringing the first African slaves. By 1601 only a handful of Arawaks remained alive alongside 1,000 Africans. When the British arrived in 1655 with 9,000 troops, they met 6,000 inhabitants, 1,500 of African descent and the rest mostly Spanish; after 1660, a few dozen Spanish remained, while 300 Maroons fought from the mountains. The Maroons today, custodians of African culture, still preserve a distinctive speech form, Maroon Spirit Language. Their ranks were supplemented by runaways under slavery, and they maintained their independence by treaty, defeating the British in 1739 and 1795. However, the origins of JamC postdate 1660, in the interaction of British colonists and African slaves. The language did not yet exist in 1658, when the 7,000 settlers and soldiers in the island from Britain, Ireland and the Americas outnumbered Africans 5 to 1; but between 1677, when there were about 9,000 each of whites and blacks, and 1703, when the white population had slightly declined but the numbers of enslaved Africans had risen to 45,000, the roots of JamC were planted. Many key features were in place before 1750, though others can only be documented from the early and mid-19th century (Lalla and D’Costa 1990). Jamaican language and its place in society reflects the brutal history of Jamaica as a British sugar colony until Independence in 1962. Creolization in the broadest sense led to emergence of new cultural and social institutions, including language,

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but the subordination of JamC to English – the native tongue of a tiny minority – has persisted to the present day, with consequences for education, economy, and psychological independence. The collapse of the plantation economy between the two world wars brought on mass urbanization, making Kingston the largest “English-speaking” city in the Americas south of Miami (Patrick 1999). Yet only in the 21st century has the Jamaican government seriously begun to explore language planning and recognition of JamC as a national language. Jamaican Creole’s dramatic genesis in British slavery, imperialism and the African diaspora to the Americas has focused creolist research on language contact, especially the influence of African languages (Akan and Kwa families, along with Bantu), and to a lesser extent British English dialects (West of England, Irish and Scots), as well as universals of language acquisition and creation. Over 90 percent of Jamaica’s population are of African origin. Other groups claim Indian, Chinese, Syrian and European heritage; of these, only Europeans were present before 1845 and contributed to the formation of JamC. For all these Jamaicans, JamC is a shared marker of ethnic and national identity which serves to distinguish them from other peoples, and to unite them in possession of a rich, diverse set of discursive resources. 1.2.

The Creole continuum

Social stratification in Jamaica is crucial to understanding the extreme variability of contemporary Jamaican speech. The complex linguistic situation can be related to an equally intricate web of social relations, using the model of the creole continuum. This is opposed to discrete multi-lingual or multi-dialectal descriptions such as community bilingualism, standard-plus-dialects, and diglossia. The inapplicability of classic diglossia to Jamaica motivated DeCamp to invent the (post-)creole continuum model: “There is no sharp cleavage between Creole and standard (...) [but] a linguistic continuum, a continuous spectrum of speech varieties, ranging from (...) ‘broken language’ (...) to the educated standard” (DeCamp 1971: 350), i.e. from basilect to acrolect. JamC is natively available to nearly all Jamaicans, but Standard Jamaican English (StJamE), the acrolect, is not – it is a home language for a small minority, and learned as a second language of school, literacy, mass media and work by others. This is the direct result of the colonial distribution of power in earlier centuries, which worked to create and maximize the norms that still devalue JamC and elevate StJamE. Many Jamaicans, and even many linguists (Creole-speaking and other), still maintain this contrast in prestige as a base component of their attitudes towards Jamaican language, and it surfaces in many linguistic descriptions. In truth, both poles of the continuum are idealized abstractions, a collection of features most like standard Englishes (the acrolect) or most distant from them (basilect). Yet between these poles lies the continuum of everyday speech: a series

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of minimally differentiated grammars with extensive variation – an apparently seamless web connecting two idealized varieties which arose in the same place and time-frame and share distinctive features, yet cannot be genetically related. The descriptive problem is thus to reconcile genetic descent and non-genetic, contact-induced language change within a finely-graded continuum. While StJamE is recognized as an English dialect, descended by normal transmission from 17th- and 18th-century British input dialects, creolists agree that the grammar of basilectal JamC differs radically from native English dialects, due to extensive language contact resulting in structural mixing. There is less agreement on whether this process took the form of abrupt creolization, whether a pidgin developed in the island first, or whether a prior pidgin existed – e.g. on the African coast – and was relexified (Cassidy 1971; Alleyne 1980; Lalla and D’Costa 1990). The prevailing opinion is that this sharp contrast makes it impossible to relate JamC genetically to English – or indeed to its African input languages, with which there is also a radical structural break (Thomason and Kaufman 1988; Thomason 2001) – though it bears obvious historical links to both. 1.3.

The Jamaican mesolect

As linguists since Bailey have preferred to focus on these extremes, most research concentrated on basilectal JamC, until the recent emergence of studies on StJamE (e.g. Shields 1989). (Patrick 1999 is the only study of the mesolect.) Yet in purely social and demographic terms, the most important variety in Jamaica is the intermediate one known as the mesolect; its broad limits include the speech uttered by most Jamaicans, in most situations. Although empirical data for language description of JamC are nearly always drawn from points within the continuum (i.e. the mesolect), it remains under-theorized and under-described. This may be because most linguistic treatments of JamC adopt a categorical perspective (Chambers 1995), seeking to explain away inherent linguistic variation by attributing it to the random mixing of so-called invariant grammars, viz., the basilect and acrolect. Thus, Bailey (1971: 342) tried to model mesolectal speech as “standard with incursions from the creole, or creole with incursions from the standard” through “borrowing and interference”, while Akers (1981: 4) believed it was due to a failure of acquisition by speakers who “incompletely control their code”. Both views portray Jamaicans as less than competent in their everyday language, and the mesolect as grammar-less. Such an approach fails to reach descriptive adequacy: the mesolect cannot be reduced to interference between two discrete, polar systems, and no such detailed description has ever been attempted. The existence of language ideologies and attitudes (resembling those commonly found in bilingual communities) which do not explicitly grant the mesolect autonomy, should not mislead as to its systematic internal organization. Although highly variable, it comprises a grammar

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describable via both qualitative linguistic generalizations and quantitative constraints, which has evolved over three centuries, arriving at a set of socially-evaluated patterns with their own historical and cultural ecology. Its post-creolization development is broadly similar to that of other, non-creole, speech communities, to which variationist theory and descriptive methods have been profitably applied (Chambers, Trudgill and Schilling-Estes 2002). Earlier speculations that the creole continuum might be so variable as not to constitute a speech community at all proved unfounded. In the most detailed account of the mesolect, Patrick (1999) concludes that it is characterized by the systematic presence and integration of English forms and rules in a partial and variable, but non-random, manner. On this view, mesolectal grammar does not result from improvised mixing or codeswitching between two polar varieties, nor are its speakers fossilized learners. Rather, the mesolect is an organized, distinctive collection of elements with a long history and its own complex norms, structures and social patterning. Many choices and variants are possible within it, but many are not. Ways of speaking are not accidental but conventionalized; borrowing occurs, but is not the sole source of variation; grammatical rules exist and interlock; and it is transmitted through normal language acquisition. Though change occurs, the mesolect contrasts with newer and less stable varieties such as BrC. Despite the defining presence of English elements, which mark it off clearly from the basilect, the mesolect shares with the latter many constraints, structures and organizing principles which are not generally characteristic of native dialects of English. Insofar as creoles are defined through such contrasts (Mühleisen 2002), the mesolect is thus Jamaican Creole, and not Jamaican English (i.e. it cannot be genetically related to English). Indeed, it probably appeared earlier than the basilect (Alleyne 1971). English-like surface forms (some exclusive to the mesolect, e.g. did, others shared with the acrolect, e.g. neva, or even the basilect, e.g. ben – all three tense-markers are discussed below) characteristically alternate with zero, governed by constraints shared with basilectal JamC but not with native Englishes. This pattern is found in both earlier Jamaican texts and contemporary speech. The mesolect is naturally the primary object of description here, with frequent reference also to basilectal structures. Though there is a clear dividing line between these two grammars (Patrick 1999), there is none between mesolect and acrolect, since the partial presence of English forms and constraints merges indistinguishably into the possession of full competence in StJamE. While the many structures shared with the basilect provide a firm linguistic basis for treating the mesolect as JamC, there is no such structural warrant for restricting “English” only to the high acrolect – it is strictly the power of social convention which influences speakers, and therefore linguists, to do so. In practice, this lack of a sharp upper boundary creates difficulties in analysing some speakers or texts. The search for a single point, a linguistic and social division, where StJamE starts and JamC ends, is the misguided product of colonial

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language ideologies. Below, however, illustrative contrasts are drawn. This coincides with the symbolic value speakers attach to fine, or even illusory, distinctions between “proper English” and Patwa (a term broad enough to encompass, at times, everything but the high acrolect). 1.4.

The data and orthography

Much data below is cited from written records. Cassidy’s phonemic orthography (1961) has served as a model for many other Creole writing systems, but is littlefollowed by Jamaican writers. Uncredited data are by the author (as are most translations) or by recorded informants, and generally follow Cassidy. While creolists generally prefer a diachronic perspective, and seek out “pure” basilectal forms as evidence of earlier stages of language development, the description below is synchronic and does not privilege the basilect. This may affect some analyses, e.g. whether to treat se ‘say’ under complementation or verb serialization. 2.

Tense, mood and aspect marking

2.1.

A Creole TMA system?

All descriptions of basilectal JamC agree that it combines invariant pre-verbal particles with unmarked verb stems to express these grammatical categories, where native Englishes typically use verbal auxiliaries, inflectional suffixes and agreement-marking. It is also generally argued that contrasting linguistic categories and semantic values underlie and constrain these formal differences. The most influential account is given by Bickerton (1975, 1981) for creoles in general. Three main categories – anterior tense, irrealis mood, and non-punctual aspect – each have a principal pre-verbal marker, which must combine in the order T-M-A. In creoles, Bickerton argued, states, habitual situations and progressive events can all be described as having non-punctual aspect. Further, verb stativity is said to crucially affect the occurrence and interpretation of markers of past-reference: bare non-stative verbs receive a default past-reference reading, while statives are non-past unless preceded by a tense-marker. These claimed syntactic and semantic properties together describe a grammar that “clearly bears no relation to the system of English” (Bickerton 1975: 47). This gives the following paradigm: Stativity (1) (2) (3) (4)

+stative -stative +stative -stative

Pre-V Marker

Meaning

Examples

none none (b)en/did (b)en/did

present, habitual past past past-before-past

Mi Ø lov im Mi Ø run Mi ben lov im Mi ben ron

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with the translations: (1) ‘I love her’ (now) / ‘I love her’ (habitually) (2) ‘I ran’ (3) ‘I loved her’ (4) ‘I had run’ (before some other past event or action) Bickerton argued that creole basilects, including JamC, do not have an absolute past tense, but rather a relative anterior tense. Instead of taking the moment of speaking as an absolute reference point (with past tense required for events before it, and future for events after), this point is relative. For stative verbs it is the moment of speaking, but for verbs of action it is some relevant earlier moment. Thus when they are preceded by a past marker (ben in 5), they refer to a past-before-past action, sometimes called remote past. (5)

Father Manley fight and mek black pickney go a St Hilda’s school, where no black pickney couldn’t ben go first time. ‘Manley fought so that black children could go to St Hilda’s school, where no black children had been able to go in the old days.’ (Sistren 1987: 105)

While Bickerton’s description often matches JamC utterances at surface level, the analysis is flawed. It is widely conceded that this scheme fails to account for the full range of facts over many Creoles, and articulates poorly with general TMA and typological studies. However, it is rarely noted that, as a categorical analysis assuming private oppositions, it misconceives the nature of creole grammars, including JamC. That is, it predicts a strict form-meaning isomorphism which does not hold: e.g., in order to convey a past-before-past meaning, a nonstative verb must be marked with an anterior marker (basilectal ben and variants wen, en, min; mesolectal did); and when so marked, it must receive such a reading. In reality, exceptions occur in both directions. The prediction is worth refuting because many other linguists give such idealized accounts of Creole grammars. 2.2.

Habitual, progressive and completive aspect

Progressive aspect is uniformly signalled by pre-verbal a (6–7), while habitual aspect is often unmarked (1), though at an earlier stage both were marked alike in a single imperfective category with (d)a (da and de persist in western Jamaica, Bailey 1966: 138). It is still possible to mark habitual with a + Verb, just like the progressive. Aspectual a is tense-neutral in JamC, and may be preceded by tensemarkers (ben + a, did + a, ben + de, was + a etc.). (6) (7)

-stative -stative

a, de ben/did + a/de

progressive past progressive

Mi a ron Mi ben a ron

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‘I’m running’ / ‘I was running’ / ‘I (used to) habitually run’ ‘I was running’ / ‘I used to habitually run’

Completive aspect is signalled by don, which unlike other TMA markers may occur not only pre-verbally but also after the verb phrase (8–9), or even both. (8)

Him lucky we never nyam him too, for we did done cook already. ‘It’s lucky we didn’t eat it too, for we had already cooked.’ [of a chicken] (Sistren 1987: 30)

(9)

Dem deh-deh, till she cook and we nyam done. ‘They stayed there until she had cooked and we had finished eating.’ (Sistren 1987: 82)

2.3.

Anterior tense

In both basilectal and mesolectal JamC, anterior markers occur more rarely than Bickerton’s analysis predicts, and occur in environments where they are not predicted. Bare verb forms are very common, and do not have a single necessary interpretation. Instead of being precisely regulated by syntactic or semantic factors, the occurrence of anterior markers is inherently variable, correlated with such discourse features as provision of background information. JamC is thus governed by a principle of wider application: Mark past-tense more often when temporal organization of the discourse is disrupted, and less often when it is predictable.

This principle also operates in other variable discourse contexts, such as the English historical present. JamC is much less often constrained by concord than English, but where both are variable, similar pragmatic constraints apply. Furthermore, the tense interpretation of bare verbs interacts with the specificity of the nounphrase (section 10.3). In urban mesolectal JamC today ben is infrequent (though recognized, in fact stereotyped as rural, by all). Pre-verbal did occurs instead (10). This did cannot be confused with the English emphatic auxiliary, which does not exist in JamC (past did cannot be stressed). Tense-marking did, popularly identified with urban speech and positively valued, appears most commonly among older speakers, and is receding among the young (Patrick 1999). Infrequently, non-concord was occurs to mark past-reference – typically in progressive was + a + Verb, more rarely with nominal or locative complements, and not at all with perfective meaning (i.e., ...*was du in 10). (10)

If yu luk pan we Itla did du ina Jaamani ‘If you consider what Hitler did in Germany’

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Linguists analyzing creole languages often create grammars for them which are neat, efficient and functional, claiming they do not formally mark information which is recoverable from context – thus contrasting with older natural languages in which redundancy is a design feature. Comrie (1985: 31) argues that JamC “omit[s] tense markers when an overt adverbial of time location is present”. Again, this constraint is not categorical but a tendency, often overruled: not only do unmarked past-reference forms occur in the absence of adverbials, but mutual co-occurrence is also common: (11)

Ten tauzin yiers ago dem did penichriet aal dem ting. ‘Ten thousand years ago they already understood all those things.’

The negative past form is neva. While in the acrolect and upper mesolect it is adverbial, like English, lower on the continuum it is a tense-marker. Thus for acrolectal speakers, presence of neva is not correlated with verb-inflection, timereference is absolute, and neva may be used predictively. For lower mesolectal speakers, inflection is prohibited after neva, as after other pre-verbal particles (12), while time-reference is relative past; perfective meaning is the norm, as for many vernacular English dialects (Cheshire 1982), and predictive use does not occur. (Rarely, it redundantly combines with did in neva did, parallel to basilectal no ben.) Neva co-exists with tense-neutral pre-verbal negator no, which is more common in the basilect (13). Neva, like did, is preferred among older urban speakers. (12)

Dat manggo chrii dier, notn neva du it. ‘Nothing (has ever) happened to that mango tree.’

(13)

Im no biznis huu it kyach. ‘He didn’t care who got shot.’

3.

Verb forms

3.1.

Verb inflection

The common mesolectal occurrence of variable, English-like verb inflection with -ed is a striking contrast with the basilect. Variable inflection appears to be a general feature of Caribbean English Creole grammars, holding true as well in Barbados Creole (BbdC) and Bahamian Creole (BahC). Despite earlier linguists’ belief that it results from error or dialect mixing, regularization and hyper-correct insertion of -ed are extremely rare. Patrick (1999) found that fully one-third of past-reference verbs in urban speech were inflected for tense on the surface, with a wide range of individual variation (though speakers who used did or neva were least likely to inflect verbs). Bare, uninflected verbs occurred well over half of the time, and pre-

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verbal past-markers made up only 10 percent; only a single possibly hyper-correct form was found in 15 hours of speech. Strong verbs are the least-often inflected. In this, JamC resembles the creoles just mentioned, but differs from other varieties of English which variably mark the past, such as AAVE and African American Diaspora varieties in Samaná, Nova Scotia and Liberia (Fasold 1972; Poplack and Tagliamonte 2001): in these varieties, as well as for English second-language learners, irregular verbs are overwhelmingly marked more often than regular verbs. For a number of strong verbs in JamC, the stem corresponds to an English past form: los ‘lose’, marid ‘marry’, gaan ‘go away, leave’, bruk ‘break’, lef ‘leave’ – at least the last two being widely shared with Creoles from West Africa to the Carolinas to Guyana. Upper-mesolectal speakers do inflect irregular verbs, but this marks a very salient distinction between them and other JamC speakers. Just as with did and neva, in the mesolect the variable use of English inflectional -ed is governed not by absolute past tense but by anteriority – understood as a general discourse principle – and/or stativity. However, the tendency for stativity to favor past-marking is not a general syntactic constraint as Bickerton originally proposed, but the effect of a handful of very common stative verbs such as have, combined with the tendency for statives to appear in background clauses, e.g. in narration (Patrick 1999; confirmed for BahC by Hackert 2004). It is not clear how far the basilect can be described as morphologically invariant, but verb inflection in mesolectal JamC is common and significant, despite being discounted in traditional descriptions. Yet while inflection may resemble English, when it occurs it is governed by classic creole constraints. Only at the upper reaches of the continuum do English grammatical principles apply, for speakers who inflect the great majority of their past-reference verbs. 3.2.

Person and number agreement

Person and number are not marked on finite verbs in all forms of JamC. That is, present-tense verbs with third-person singular subjects never show inflection with -s, and the verb paradigm is perfectly regular (14). (14)

Dis wan swiit im. ‘This one pleases her.’

This is linked to two other facts about JamC discussed below: (subject) pronouns are not distinguished for case, and auxiliary inversion does not occur (15). All three properties co-occur in some regional dialects of British English too, either for a subset of agreement-less finite verbs, or more generally. Many Jamaicans are aware of the existence of verbal -s in English, and may use it when “cutting English” or talking “speaky-spoky” (Russell in Lalla and D’Costa 1990: 189; Patrick 1997).

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Radford analyzes this, in the terms of minimalist syntax, as an indication that “only interpretable head-features survive” in JamC (1997: 183), i.e. only elements which contribute to meaning. Following this line, rather than say that there is no verbal agreement in JamC, one might say that there are no uninterpretable agreement features – thus it automatically satisfies the Principle of Full Interpretation in this respect. This focus on the importance of meaning-bearing elements in the grammar might be one respect in which JamC could be characterized as “simpler” than StE, where earlier broad-brush efforts to say that creoles e.g. lack morphology or derivational depth have proven incorrect (though see section 9 below). The venerable project of finding simplicity in creole structures is however a questionable, ideologically-motivated mission. 3.3.

(Modal) auxiliaries and past participles

JamC lacks the primary auxiliary verbs present in most English dialects: forms of be, do, have (though it possesses main-verb counterparts of do and have). The functions they normally perform are either absent (e.g. subject-inversion in questions, 15) or carried out by other elements (e.g. the invariant particles marking TMA). There is no distinction between simple past and present perfect verb forms in JamC (iit ‘eat, eaten’), and neither of them requires an auxiliary or pre-verbal marker; distinct participial forms do not occur, and thus cannot be generalized, nor substituted by preterite (e.g. AAVE had went). Ellipses like English They do, without a main verb, are not possible with JamC modals. (15)

Im no lov dem ting? ‘Doesn’t she like those things?’

However, JamC does have a full complement of modal auxiliaries. Bailey (1966) divides them syntagmatically into two groups: (16)

Mod-1:

mos(-a, -i) kuda wuda shuda mait(-a) wi

‘must’ ‘could’ ‘would’ ‘should’ ‘might, may’ ‘will’

(17)

Mod-2:

kyan fi hafi mos(-a, -i)

‘can’ ‘ought’ ‘must’ ‘must’

As in English, modals show no agreement; as in regional British and American varieties, double modals occur in JamC. In fact, over a dozen combinations are

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possible, and even triple modals may occur. (Mod-1) (Mod-2) are followed by a Tense marker (if any), an Aspect marker (if any), and a main verb. This gives the order M-T-A, as in Im shuda-M en-T a-A ron ‘He should have been running.’ Triple modals involve interpolation of mos between other forms. Thus, simplifying away the T and A components, one finds: (18)

Mod-1 Verb:

Dem mosi nuo. ‘They must (have) know(n)/They certainly knew.’

(19)

Mod-2 Verb:

Mi hafi gaan. ‘I must leave.’

(20)

Mod-1 Mod-2 Verb:

Dem kuda kyan bai a bred. ‘They would be able to buy a loaf of bread.’

(21)

Mod-1 mos Mod-2 Verb:

Wi wuda mos hafi riich soon! ‘We really ought to arrive soon!’

A mesolectal past modal not mentioned by Bailey (1966), had was, occurs only with infinitival to (not the typical JamC fi), with the meaning ‘had to’ (22). This appears to be sometimes extended to purposive clauses with the verb wanted (23). Interestingly, was here is redundant in its tense-marking function. Alongside mainverb sapuoz ‘suppose’, there is also semi-auxiliary sapuosi with epistemic modal force, as in sapuosi kyan kom ‘ought to be able to come’. (22)

My stepfaada had was to tell him not to come back to our yard. ‘My stepfather had to tell him not to come back to where we lived.’ (Sistren 1987: 270)

(23)

Him do it because him wanted was to control di people living in di Underworld. ‘He did it because he wanted to control the people living in the Underworld.’ (Sistren 1987: 263)

4.

Negation

4.1.

Sentential negation

The simplest and most common structure in JamC sees a single, invariant negator no (reducible to /na/) before the verb (13, 15); adverbs may intervene. It combines with the basilectal tense marker as no ben, which is functionally equivalent to neva (see above). Most speakers also have tense-neutral duont. Duont is typically non-past or imperfective (24), but may occur with any time-reference or aspect, including perfect

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(25), and with untensed clauses (26). It is not restricted to psychic state or habitual verbs (25), contra Bailey (1966: 54). (24)

She don’t fight woman; a pure man she fight. ‘She doesn’t (didn’t) fight women; she only fights (fought) men.’ (Sistren 1987: 271)

(25)

Up to now, Spangler don’t come back in di area. ‘Until this day Spangler has not come back into the area.’ (Sistren 1987: 279)

(26)

Him may leave today to go out to all di countryside, far district, and don’t come back tomorrow. ‘He may leave today to go out all over the countryside, and not come back tomorrow.’ (Sistren 1987: 25)

4.2.

Negative tags and negative imperatives

No and duont also occur as interrogative tags on either negative or affirmative declaratives (and no, but not duont, as imperative tag, on affirmative requests only). However, it is not always clear whether tags with na are related to negative no. Duont may also be preposed (28, 29). Negative imperatives may occur with either negator; the typical basilectal form requires an expletive verb bada (< bother, 29) while duont, being verbal, requires none. As a rhetorical question or interjection, no mos indicates that something is expected or obvious (30). (27)

Shut unu ai, na! ‘Shut your (pl.) eyes, won’t you?’

(Roberts 1973: 37)

(28)

A di bridj im a taak, duont? Duont a di bridj im a taak? ‘It’s the bridge he’s talking about, isn’t it? Isn’t it the bridge he’s talking about?’ (Roberts 1973: 20)

(29)

No bada gwaan bad. / Duon gwaan bad, yaa? ‘Do not misbehave (you hear?).’

(30)

‘Den yu a go kom tinait?’ ‘No mos!’ ‘Then you’re going to come tonight?’ ‘Of course!’

4.3.

Negative concord and other negative forms

Negative concord is the norm in JamC: as in many dialects of English, negative adverbials and nominals (e.g. nontaal ‘not (at all)’, nombadi ‘nobody’) may agree with a sentential negator, without contributing additional negative force. In contrast with some analyses of AAVE however, in JamC such sympathetic negation

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need not apply on every possible occasion. Thus (31) might as well have concluded with negative nomo as positive again. Since auxiliary inversion does not occur, there is no negative inversion. The form ain’t does not occur in JamC, nor does negative tag innit (though both do in BrC). There is coalescence of no with progressive particle a, giving pre-verbal naa, which is used both for progressive and for periphrastic future (32). Most modals have negative forms (33), except wi. Negative kyàan is differentiated from positive kyán by the former’s low tone and vowel length, and is much less likely to contain a palatal glide, especially in formal speech (34). (31)

Don’t me done tell yuh seh me na go do nutten again? ‘Haven’t I told you already that I’m not going to do anything further?’ (Sistren 1987: 70)

(32)

Nabadii na a kom ina mai aus. ‘Nobody is going to come into my house.’ kudn wudn shudn maitn

Mod-2:

(Roberts 1973: 36)

(33)

Mod-1:

no fi naafi (< no hafi) mosn

(34)

If I kyán only get word to him ... Mama kyàan catch us because we run. ‘If I could only get word to him ... Mama couldn’t catch us because we ran.’

Finally, copular forms of be from StJamE appear first in the mesolect in negated form, e.g. wasn’t. Another mesolectal form, nat, alternates with no most often in structures corresponding to English be + not + Complement or be + not + Verb-ing, though frequently without an overt be-form.

5.

Word order, focus and copular structures

5.1.

Word order

JamC word order is head-initial: in verb phrases the order is thus [V-NP], while prepositions occur in [P-NP] order, determiners appear as [Det-N], and adjectives as [Adj-N]. It is uniformly Subject-Verb-Object, like most Atlantic English-lexicon Creoles. Lacking auxiliary inversion, as noted, it also lacks negative and question inversion. Yes-no questions differ from declaratives only in having a final-rise intonation contour. The main deviation from surface SVO order occurs in focus structures.

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5.2.

The copula: Functions and significance

JamC has no single copular verb matching English be, but employs a range of forms differentiated by function. These verbs are tense-neutral and uninflected, combining with pre-verbal TMA markers; some alternate with zero-forms, others are necessarily overt. Alternation with non-concord (but tense-specific) forms of be also occurs in the mesolect. However, full forms of be are the norm, while contracted forms are surprisingly uncommon compared to AmE and BrE. There is sharp contrast with native English varieties in the distribution of forms and functions; possibilities of alternation and absence; and relative frequencies of copula presence by syntactic environment. The exceptions are African American Diaspora varieties of English, with which significant resemblances have been observed. The distribution of JamC copular forms has figured importantly in debates concerning historical linkage between AAVE and Caribbean English Creoles. 5.3.

The copula in progressive forms

Progressive a + Verb is discussed above (6, 7); an alternating mesolectal form is Ø + Verb + in. Tense-specific variation of zero with is/was also occurs here, though a itself is incompatible with both be-forms and with the -in suffix. Contrary to notions of neat separation according to forms, the so-called basilectal a + Verb form is used at all levels of the mesolect, while predominantly basilectal speakers are familiar with the supposedly mesolectal Ø + Verb-in form. Several main verbs which are semantically continuative typically take a + Verb complements: kipaan ‘keep on’, gwaan ‘go on’, depan ‘be engaged in an action or activity; in a state of continuing or repeated action’ (lit. locative de + pan ‘upon, on, in, at’). 5.4.

The copula in equative forms

In equative contexts, a subject and a nominal complement are joined by the verb a. In older JamC, the form was da (35). This varies mesolectally with non-concord is/was. Zero copula does occur, but Rickford’s (1996: 225) quantitative data show an overt copula more than 80 percent of the time. (35)

Ebry day da fishing day, but ebry day no fe catch fish. ‘Every day is a day for fishing, but you won’t catch fish every day.’ (DJE: 141, from 1873)

Bailey treats niem ‘name’ as a distinctive verb (1966: 33) in constructions such as Mi niem Piita ‘My name is Peter/I am named Peter’. They do not allow an overt copula in JamC; in her analysis, they are not equative but predicative.

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Focus structures: Predicate clefting

The same form a serves to focus a wide range of fronted or clefted constituents, both predicative and non-predicative. The fronted item receives stress and emphatic or contrastive meaning. Only predicative elements are copied in the original sentence position when clefted; they include verbs (36, 38), adjectives (37) and, uniquely among modals, mos (38). Variation of a with is occurs, giving present or perfect meaning, but no other be-form appears in this structure. (36)

A swel it swel, luk da. A bigfut dem gi mi. ‘It certainly swelled up, look there. Someone gave me the bigfoot.’

(37)

Luk hou a krievm im krievm. ‘See how greedy she is!’

(38)

A mos im mosi gaan aredi. ‘He must have left already.’

5.6.

Focus structures: Other types of clefting

or

A gaan im mosi gaan aredi. ‘He must have left already.’

Non-predicative elements may be clefted similarly but are not copied. These include pronouns and nouns (28, 36, 39), locative phrases (40), temporal phrases (41), manner adverbials, and question-words (42). Wh-questions are normally clefted, and have a falling intonation contour; they may be introduced by a, is, or zero. Even Louise Bennett, the paragon of basilectal folk-poets, shows such variation as A noh sintin ... Is sintin ... ‘It’s not something that... It’s something that...’ (Bennett 1966: 126). (39)

She waan mi fi come back cause a she one deh-deh and she fraid. ‘She wanted me to return for she alone was there and she was afraid.’ (Sistren 1987:77)

(40)

A wisaid unu a go go luk fi im? A wichpaat im de ya? ‘Where are you (pl.) going to look for him? Where is he?’

(41)

Afta it kom oot a di fut, a chrii die schriet hit bon mi. ‘After it came out of my foot, it burned me for three days straight.’

(42)

Lord God! A weh a go tell me madda seh? ‘Lord God! What am I going to tell my mother?’

(43)

(Sistren 1987: 69)

Yes, Brer Puss, all di weddin’ you was a come a yahso, you was a come come eat out di butta! ‘Yes Brother Puss, even the “weddings” you were coming to here, you were only coming to finish eating the butter!’ (Dance 1985: 19)

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Other focus constructions are common in JamC as well. Pseudo-clefts occur with initial aal ‘all’, which may have either quantitative force or intensive, or both (43). Non-restrictive relatives often use an identificational left-dislocation structure (72). 5.7.

The copula with adjectives and locatives

Zero copula is normal before bare predicate adjectives in JamC (Rickford 1996 finds it to be near-categorical). Predicate adjectives in JamC may be negated by no, may follow pre-verbal TMA markers (44), and may be the complement of a modal. Progressive a conveys a processual interpretation (45) with semantically appropriate nonstative verbs (Winford 1996); this also happens with the comparative (deh-deh a colder), or with the simple adjective plus the process verb get (dehdeh a get cold). Bailey notes that the quantitative adjectives likl ‘little’, nof ‘much, many; abundant’ and tumoch ‘too many’ have predicative functions, and thus do not require an overt copula (1966: 43). When adjectives modify a following noun complement (Adj-N is the order of modification in JamC), i.e. when they are attributive, the equative copula is required, as expected. (44)

Mi ongl se im did shaat! ‘I only said he was short!’

(45)

Yuh wife cook yuh dinner and it deh-deh a cold. ‘Your wife cooked your dinner and it sits there getting cold.’ (Sistren 1987: 72)

(46)

Dem musn kom ko nobadii no di de an tiicha no da ya. ‘They mustn’t come because nobody is there and Teacher is not here.’ (Roberts 1973: 37)

(47)

Yu hav wan sinting __ niem Ruolin Kyaaf. ‘There is something __ called Rolling Calf.’

A distinct, tense-neutral verb de ‘be there’ occurs with locatives (45, 46), either taking a prepositional complement or question-finally; it is homophonous with de ‘there’. Studying a text “replete with basilectal or ‘deep creole’ elements”, Rickford finds verbal de “the most persistent of the creole copulas” (1996: 221, 227), occurring in about two-thirds of all locatives. However, even here he finds in nearly 20 percent of cases iz/waz are used; these be-forms occur before locatives throughout the mesolect as well. Returning to the significance of comparisons made between creoles (JamC in particular) and AAVE, Baugh (1980) was the first to look for separate patterning of be-forms before adjectives and locatives in AAVE, theorizing that they might

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confirm its creole ancestry. While the AAVE data on this point remain complex and equivocal (Rickford 1996), there is no doubt of the dramatic contrast between these structures within JamC: overt copula forms of any sort are rare before predicate adjectives, but zero copula is rare before locatives. Existential meaning in JamC is expressed by the verb hav, often with an indefinite pronoun subject yu or dem (47; here and in other examples containing a relative clause the gap site is marked “__”). 6.

Complementation and subordination

JamC clause structure contrasts with English dialects in several ways. Non-finite complements use the verb stem only: there are no gerund forms with -in(g). More radically, JamC like other Atlantic Creoles possesses serial verb constructions (SVCs, below), due to the substrate influence of West African languages. 6.1.

Nonfinite clauses

JamC does not always require a particle (e.g. English to) to precede non-finite clauses (48); as in StE, some verbs optionally select bare infinitive clauses. The default infinitive marker is fi (not to be confused with modal fi), but tu alternates for upper mesolectal speakers. Fi often occurs with purposive clauses (49), and as the complement of the desiderative verb waan ‘want’. Impersonal subjects of adjectives also take fi-complements (50), as do animate subjects (51–52). Structures like Mi glad for see you are attested as early as 1774 (Lalla and D’Costa 1990: 89). Unlike StE, constructions like *John is easy to cry are acceptable (51). Imperatives can be formed with Pliiz tu + Verb (e.g. Pliiz tu kom dis said ‘Come over here’). (48)

Him start tell di cousins all sort a someting. ‘He started to tell the cousins all kinds of things.’

(Sistren 1987: 103)

(49)

She only do half day work fi come fi follow him go a airport. ‘She only worked a half day in order to come here to follow him to the airport.’ (Sistren 1987: 103)

(50)

I hard fi kraas di riba. ‘It’s hard to cross the river.’

(51)

Jan iizi fi krai. ‘John cries easily.’

(52)

Him fraid fi grab it, for him fraid me tear it. ‘He was afraid to grab it, for he was afraid I would tear it.’ (Sistren 1987: 103)

or or

Di riba haad fi kraas. ‘The river is hard to cross.’ I iizi fi Jan fi krai. ‘It is easy for John to cry.’ (Bailey 1966: 125)

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6.2.

Finite clauses

JamC declarative complementizers include se ‘say’ and the all-purpose dat ‘that’; both take finite complements and alternate with zero, so that in general it is possible for no complementizer to appear before a subordinate clause. Se is restricted to following verbs of speech (53), thought (e.g. biliib ‘believe’, nuo ‘know’, fain ‘realize’), perception (sii ‘see’, yier ‘hear’) or emotion (sari ‘sorry’, shiem ‘shame’); it probably derived from a serial construction for speech alone. It may serve as complement to predicate adjectives, and can be stranded by clefting of wh-items (42). Complementizer se cannot follow main-verb se ‘say’, thus testifying to its incomplete grammaticalization. Some psychic-state verbs however typically take zero complementizers, such as biznis ‘care’. In (54), we might equally have found Dat mean dat ... or Dat mean se ... All these forms are very common; examples (48–49, 52–54) occur on a single page of dialogue, randomly chosen. (53)

Him all swear seh him was going to tell me. ‘He even swore that he was going to tell me.’

(Sistren 1987: 103)

(54)

Dat mean him deh go tek set pon me. ‘That means (that) he is going to become malignly fixated upon me.’ (Sistren 1987: 103)

6.3.

Subordinating conjunctions

JamC uses several subordinating conjunctions which are either absent, or now archaic, in StE. (The coordinating conjunctions an, bot, ar, nar function similarly to their StE counterparts and, but, or, nor.) These include conditional forms such as wais ‘whilst, if, provided’ and sieb ‘except, unless’ (55, from save), causal sieka ‘because of’ and tru ‘because’ (from for the sake of and through; 56), temporal wen(eva)taim ‘when(ever)’ (57), concessive no kya ‘no matter’ (58, from no care) and manner laka se ‘as if’ (59, from like say). (55) (56) (57) (58) (59)

Yu kyaan kom iin-ya siev yu pie yu fier. ‘You can’t come in here unless you pay your fare.’

(DJE: 394)

She just tell him dat tru him leggo di secret. ‘She just told him that because he let out her secret.’ (Sistren 1987: 184) Weneva taim dat im kom, im gwain plie a trik. ‘When she comes she is going to play a prank.’ (DJE: 469) No kya we yu go yu naa fain non. ‘No matter where you go, you won’t find any.’ Him ron laka se dem set daag ata im. ‘He ran as if they had set dogs after him.’

(Bailey 1966: 58) (DJE: 270)

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Serial verb constructions

Serial verb constructions have been topics of extensive research by creolists (Alleyne 1980). Though they resemble both coordination and subordination structures, there are strong arguments against both analyses. It has been suggested that they are natural products of first- or second-language acquisition under certain conditions, but this seems unlikely. Not all creoles have SVCs; they appear to be a legacy of substrate languages, especially the Kwa family in the JamC case. Besides, Lalla and D’Costa (1990: 71) note “Serial verbs are not attested in the earliest texts”; appearing only in the later 19th century. SVCs involve two or more verbs brought together without a complementizer, conjunction or infinitive marker, and with no pause. If TMA or negation are marked, the marking on all verbs agrees, and typically only occurs on the first. There is normally a single expressed subject, and one direct object (if any); these are often shared across the verbs, but there is cross-linguistic variation here. SVCs are commonly categorized as directional, instrumental, dative (62), benefactive, comitative, comparative etc. Creoles may be grouped according to how many of these functions occur. Most types occur in JamC, except possibly benefactive. Direction away normally employs go, and towards uses come; (60) recalls the indignant semi-auxiliary come of AAVE. Instrumental with tek ‘take’ (61) is a typologically important function, grouping JamC with deep creoles such as the Surinamese languages, Krio and Haitian. The comparative serial (63) is now infrequent in JamC. When three serial verbs occur together, one is always directional (64); here the third verb has a different subject. (60)

(61)

(62) (63) (64)

Dis naga man come come collar me de same like a say me da him sexis. ‘This black man comes and collars me just as if I were the same sex as he.’ (1877, quoted in DJE: 116) Im tek naif kot mi. ‘He cut me with a knife.’, lit. ‘He took knife cut me.’ (Alleyne 1980: 93) Kya di buk kom gi mi. ‘Bring the book for me.’ Manggo de a yaad paas plenti. ‘A great many mangoes are in the yard.’

(Alleyne 1980: 94) (Cassidy p.c.)

Im waan mi fi go kya im kom. ‘He wants me to bring it’, lit. ‘He wants me to go carry it come.’ (Alleyne 1980: 91)

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8.

Relativization

The general structure of relative clauses in Atlantic Creoles follows their lexifier languages. JamC is no exception. Christie (1996) closely examines JamC relatives which are simultaneously the subject of emphatic focusing strategies (left-dislocation, pseudo-clefting); she finds this co-occurrence very common, and gives a developmental account. JamC relative markers are a, we, wa(t), huufa, dat and huu; in many cases a null relativizer is also possible. The non-pronominal relativizers originated in deictic elements (a, dat < that), while the relative pronouns originated in interrogative pronouns, e.g. wa < what. Christie assumes the most general basilectal pronoun, we, to have derived from where and expanded from an original locative use, but the DJE gives a NW England dialectal etymon wha for both wa and we, which are indistinguishable today except in locative relatives (we only). Huu is the acrolectal and mesolectal form, following English in its restriction to [+human]; so too does huufa (< who + for via possessive pronoun fi-huu), but its use is basilectal; it does not alternate with zero. Three types of relativization can be distinguished, involving overt relativizers, null relativizers, and resumptive pronouns. The one closest to StE involves a relative marker introducing a clause in which there is a corresponding structural gap (65, where the gap is in subject position of the relative clause; 10, 66, in object position with we; 13 with huu; 71 with huufa; and 67, the object of a stranded preposition). The gap results from movement of the wh-item. (65)

Yu miin him a __ wena mek naiz mam? ‘Do you mean the one that __ was making noise, ma’am?’

(66)

We have a place weh we call __ Atom Hole. ‘There is a place that we call __ Atom Hole.’

(67)

(Dance 1985: 94)

Mi rispek ar tu di dort we shi waak pan __, Mada. ‘I respect her to the ground that she walks on __, Mother.’

Pied-piping is not possible in JamC (in 67, * ... pan we shi waak). In general prepositions and other post-verbal particles are tightly bound to the verb. The only apparent exception to this is fi- in the interrogative pronoun fi-huu. Null relativizers are the norm in existential sentences when the relativized nounphrase is indefinite, and the subject of the clause (47 above, but not 66), and also occur in other sentence types (23, 68). Christie argues for “deletion of the coreferential NP within the relative clause” (1996: 54), rather than wh-fronting. She also includes some purposive fi-clauses here (69), though fi does not vary with zero and in other ways is not a typical relativizer.

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427

Him say me one one hog me have __ me fi give you __. ‘He said I should give you (__) the only hog I have __.’ (Dance 1985: 21)

(69)

Mi bring kluoz fi di uman put aan __. ‘I’ve brought clothes for the woman to put on __ .’

(Christie 1996: 55)

In the third type resumptive pronouns occur inside the relative clause. Christie suggests this “more usually occurs ... where the co-referential NP is possessive ... [and] an overt relativizer is necessary” (1996: 58), (70). Resumptive pronouns also occur outside the relative clause, most commonly in non-restrictive relatives (72). Both types occur in non-standard English dialects. Interestingly, resumptive pronouns are also common in acrolectal Jamaican English relatives. (70)

Di uman we dem tiif ar biebi gaan a stieshan. lit. ‘The woman that they stole her baby has gone to the station.’ (Christie 1996: 58)

(71)

Di uman huufa biebi dem tiif __ gaan a stieshan. ‘The woman whose baby they stole __ has gone to the station.’ (Christie 1996: 56)

(72)

Mi yu si ya, mi kyaan bada wid dem. ‘I (whom) you see here, I can’t bother with them.’

9.

(Bailey 1966: 108)

Pronouns

The pronominal system of JamC makes few distinctions of case or gender, and is not characterized by agreement in these dimensions. It does however make systematic distinction of person and number, in fact more so than StE. Even at the most basilectal level JamC distinguishes case in the possessive pronoun huufa if nowhere else, though Christie suggests it is a late 19th-century innovation (1996: 56–57). Mesolectal speakers typically possess some gender- and case-specific forms, but are not consistent in their use. The system is therefore not simpler than StE, either in the sense of possessing fewer dimensions of contrast, or in being grammatically regular as English is (Mühlhäusler 1997: 234–236). Little work has been done to explore conditions for variation. Setting aside huufa, Radford finds a case-less system of pronouns further evidence that JamC lacks “uninterpretable case-features; those which have been retained are interpretable person-, number- and gender-features” (1997: 182–183). Thus JamC would share common ground with native child acquisition of English, in which uninterpretable features are acquired later. Radford argues JamC distinguishes “between overt and covert forms ... the minimal case distinction we should expect to find in any language” (1997: 206–207).

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9.1.

Personal pronouns

The personal pronouns are given in (73). Im ‘he, she, him, her, it’ is the default gender- and case-less form (14), sometimes used for impersonal or non-human referents (8), but i ‘it’ is not used for human ones (50); animacy is a distinction native to JamC. English-like forms enter in 3rd person singular; though common in the mesolect, they are not fully integrated into the grammar of JamC. Shi is the first gender-marked form to appear; ar cannot be focused (*A ar mi lov, ‘It’s her I love’), indicating that it is a marked form. Mesolectal speakers use gender- and case-marked 3sg pronouns (when they do use them) in appropriate ways (24, 67), without hyper-correction. Use of ii ‘he’ and shi ‘she’ for oblique cases does not occur in JamC. (73)

Person 1 2 3

Singular mi, a (ai) yu im, i (ii) (shi) (ar)

Plural wi unu dem

The 2nd pl. form unu (27, 40) is traced to Igbo (DJE; Allsopp 1996; Parkvall 2000), or to convergence among e.g. Wolof yena, Kongo yeno, Kimbundu yenu, and Common Bantu *nu (Holm 2000). Lalla and D’Costa (1990: 78), however, find it “only in the middle and later 19th century”. Unu is also used as an indefinite pronoun, like AmE you or BrE one (74), while yu sometimes has non-singular reference. Ai is a distinctive feature of Rastafarian speech, with productive compounding in I-man, I-an-I, I-dren (Pollard 1994). These metaphorically and ideologically motivated uses cannot be confused with everyday standard usage, where it is strictly acrolectal. As an element of Rasta Talk accessible to a general audience for a variety of discourse purposes, ai is a regular, if specialized, component of the JamC pronominal system. However, as creative use is a hallmark of this register, ai and its compounds cannot be exclusively assigned a single number, case or person (75). (74)

Unu kudn bloodbat gi i man chrii onjrid dala. ‘Nobody could even give the man three hundred damn dollars.’

(75)

Ai an ai taakin tu di ai ier. ‘I have been talking to this man.’

(Pollard)

First- and second-person pronouns (and 3rd sg. i) have final short lax vowels, and even ai may be reduced to /a/ (42). As this is quite common in West African languages and other Atlantic Creoles, but not permitted by the phonotactics of most English varieties, it is clearly African-derived.

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Possessive pronouns

Possessive pronouns are simply derived in JamC by prefixing fi- to the personal pronouns mi, yu, im, ar, wi, unu or dem (76). Fi-huu serves as possessive interrogative, and the probable source of huufa. Though it is not necessarily stressed, the fi- prefix may receive primary stress here (77); this is also true when it operates as a possessive adjective, i.e. modifies rather than replaces a noun (78). Lalla and D’Costa (1990: 75) note “the absence of fe + Noun as a possessive marker in the earliest texts”. (76)

Black bud lef’ fe ‘im ticks fe pick fe go pick cow own. ‘Black bird leaves his own ticks to go and pick Cow’s.’ (Watson 1991: 37)

(77)

Mi nuo di fuor touzin mi mek a fi-mi! ‘I know the four thousand I make is mine!’ [=dollars]

(78)

Den no fi-me work me put yuh inna? ‘Then wasn’t it my job I got for you?’

(Sistren 1987: 126)

The emphatic or contrastive possessive adjective uon(a) ‘own’ usually follows a possessor noun (76), but may appear with just a pronoun (79), or even the combination of fi + proper noun (80). When uon(a) does appear, the possessed noun may be present – e.g. (77) might as well have terminated (...) a fi-mi uona ting!, with stress on uona – but is more often absent, in which case the complex functions as possessive pronoun (i.e. ar uon = ‘hers’, fi-wi uon = ‘ours’). In these constructions stress generally falls on the preceding possessor (pro)noun, unlike English, where stress usually falls on own. It is also possible to have only bare personal pronouns with possessive force (unu in 27, yu in 55, the first me in 68), i.e. possession by juxtaposition (possessor + possessed); this structure is not restricted to pronouns, but occurs also with full nouns, including proper nouns (e.g. di uman biebi ‘the woman’s baby’, Rabat buk ‘Robert’s book’). English-like forms alternate in the mesolect, especially in the first person (mai, owa), as in (81). (79)

Me did a carry a pan a water from di next door yard for dem did lock off fi-we own again. ‘I used to carry a pan of water from the yard next door, for they had shut off ours again.’ [a standpipe] (Sistren 1987: 187)

(80)

Jos bikaaz evribadi wena go luk pan fi-Patsi uon... ‘Just because everybody was looking at Patsy’s ...’ [=frock]

(81)

Mek wi go ina owa pakit an bai di lika oot a wi pakit! ‘Let’s reach in our pockets and buy the liquor out of our own pockets.’

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9.3.

Interrogative pronouns

Interrogative pronouns include the wh-items we, wa, huu and huu-fa (above). These function similarly to adjectives wich ‘which’, adverbs wa mek ‘why’, hou ‘how, why’, wen ‘when’, and homoch ‘how much/many’ in terms of a preference for a-clefting. In the mesolect wai ‘why’ occurs, but it cannot be clefted. Several interrogative pronouns are semantically transparent compounds, e.g. huufa and homoch above, but also wen-taim ‘when’ (57), wich-paat ‘where, wherever’ and wi-said ‘where’ (40), which may be relative pronouns too. This strategy also occurs in prepositions such as batam-said ‘below’ (82). (82)

Mi waak kom dong a dis ais kriim plees, likl bit batamsaid di hoos. ‘I walked down to this ice-cream place, a little below the house.’

(83)

So wen she go long, she see so-so head in de road. ‘As she went along, she saw just a head in the road.’ [without a body] (DJE: 417)

(84)

Dem miit op (dem) wan aneda pan di ruod. ‘They met each other on the road.’

9.4.

Indefinite, reflexive and reciprocal pronouns

Indefinite pronouns are transparently derived from English, but may combine several functions, e.g. somting ‘something; thing’ (usually reduced to [so/m]), smadi ‘somebody; person; human being; one’. They may also take determiners and be quantified or counted, e.g. wan smadi ‘someone, a person’, chrii smadi ‘three people’, evri smadi ‘everyone’. While JamC does follow an English model for reflexive pronouns, suffixing number-neutral -sef ‘self’ to make misef, yusef, imsef, arsef – as well as wisef, unusef and demsef – other forms also serve similar functions, e.g. so-so ‘only, by itself’ (83). Reciprocals in any person may be formed on the model (Pron-pl) wan aneda ‘each other’, with an optional preceding personal pronoun (84). 9.5.

Demonstratives

Demonstratives in Atlantic English Creoles generally derive from superstrate forms and syntax, given the normal word order of modification by demonstrative adjectives: European lexifier (Dem-N), but West African substrate (N-Dem). Indeed, superstrate demonstratives are also generally thought to be the source of the definite articles in many Creoles (below), given the prominence of deictic terms in language contact situations, plus their strong forms and likelihood of bearing stress, compared to articles.

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JamC demonstrative pronouns are singular proximal dis ‘this’, singular distal dat ‘that’, and plural dem ‘these, those’. The demonstrative adjectives are the same, and always appear in pre-N position. They are supplemented by singular da ‘this, that’, which may only occur before nouns suffixed by the locative particles -ya ‘here’ or -de ‘there’. However, the main forms are not only compatible with this structure, but also with direct suffixing of the locatives, giving the paradigm in (85). (85) Singular

Plural

Proximal dis-ya ting dis ting-ya da ting-ya ‘this thing’

Distal dat-de ting dat ting-de da ting-de ‘that thing’

dem-ya ting dem ting-ya ‘these things’

dem-de ting dem ting-de ‘those things’

JamC demonstratives are [+definite] and occupy the same syntactic slot as articles, thus may not co-occur with them. However, they may co-occur with all other available components of the noun-phrase (including plural suffix -z) except, apparently, post-nominal plural-marker -dem. In over 3,600 tokens of semantically plural noun phrases, I found only one case of demonstrative dem with plural -dem, i.e. dem N-dem (86). (86)

So, dem bwai-dem kom an dem fling tuu brik an tuu bakl. ‘So those guys came and threw a few bricks and a few bottles.’

(87)

Hou dem spiik da wie de an wii spiik da wie ya? ‘How come they speak that way, and we (only) speak this way?’

(88)

A dis yah kind a life yuh want? Look pon yuh! ‘Is this the kind of life you want? Look at you!’

(Sistren 1987: 123)

(89)

If we did ever see yuh dat deh night, we wuda mek police beat yuh. ‘If we had seen you that night, we would have let the police beat you.’

10.

Noun phrase structure

10.1.

Possession

Several aspects of noun-phrase structure have been treated above. In particular, possessive structures are generally similar regardless of whether they are headed by a possessor pronoun or noun. In StE there are three types of possessive structures:

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i) [possessor pronoun – possessed noun], e.g. my book ii) [possessed noun + of + possessor noun], e.g. books of Michelle iii) [possessor noun + -s + possessed noun], e.g. Michelle’s books The structures equivalent to (i) were described above; (ii) is rare, and does not differ from StE except in the preposition, a ‘of’ (90). The third type, suffixing possessive -s, does not occur in JamC, and is a salient marker of StJamE. However, JamC has another common structure which does not occur in StE: iv) [possessor noun – possessed noun], e.g. Jien pat ‘Jane’s pot’ Complex possessive phrases also occur mixing patterns: (91) utilizes (i) and (iv). This order also occurs in non-possessive noun-noun compounding, e.g. kin-terms such as biebi-madda (92, 93); the pattern is well-established in StJamE, e.g. (93), which also uses the possessive -s suffix. (90)

Wel natchrali! Mi fiil di anz a dopi, man. ‘Well, naturally! I have felt the hands of ghosts, man.’

(91)

Me aunty never like we to mix wid we faada family. ‘My aunt didn’t like us to mingle with our father’s family.’ (Sistren 1987: 164)

(92)

She never like we fi go down to mi Granny, me faada-madda. ‘She didn’t like us to go visit my Granny, my father’s mother.’ (Sistren 1987: 164)

(93)

Betty’s baby-father came to the dress rehearsal.

10.2.

Noun classification

(Sistren 1987: 292)

Nouns are divided into the same classes traditional in English grammars, namely mass, count and proper nouns. Their properties are largely the same as StE. Mass nouns (e.g. rais ‘rice’), being non-count, cannot take a plural marker or the singular indefinite article wan ‘a, an’, though they may be either semantically definite or indefinite. Proper nouns have similar restrictions, except that when they refer to humans, they may take the associative plural. Count nouns may receive any determiner or plural marker; only count nouns can properly be generic. Bailey (1966: 21–26) further identifies a class of abstract nouns (94), which may take the definite article (di, ‘the’) where StE does not allow it, or an indefinite quantifier (no, aal, tumoch ‘too much’, etc.). However, there are counter-examples to her claim that they may not take the demonstrative (95). Noun class membership is not the same as in StE. In particular, some nouns that are mass in StE are count in JamC (96, 20).

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(94)

Di honggri ena wip me. ‘Hunger was whipping me.’

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(Bailey 1966: 25)

(95)

Dat lov, dat ziyl, wa wi did av fors taim, yu don hav it agen. ‘That love, that zeal, we had in the old days, you don’t find it anymore.’

(96)

If me sista want a money, she would have to go and meet him. ‘If my sister wanted money, she would have to go and meet him.’ (Sistren 1987: 165)

10.3.

Articles

JamC has a singular indefinite article wan ‘a(n)’, and a number-neutral definite article di ‘the’, which appear deceptively similar to StE in function. Wan is transparently derived from the numeral one. In JamC, specificity rather than definiteness directly motivates article use. A striking reflection of this is the influence of nounphrase specificity on the tense interpretation of bare non-stative verbs (section 2.3). (97) a. b. c. d. e.

Di uman sel di manggo. Di uman sel di manggo-dem. Di uman sel manggo. Di uman sel mangoes. Di uman sel wan manggo.

Spec + + – – +

Def + + – – –

Past + +

Non-past

+ + +

The default interpretation for (97) a. and b., with object noun-phrases that are both definite and specific, is past-tense. In contrast, the default interpretation for (97) c. and d., with object noun-phrases that are neither definite nor specific, is non-past. For (97) e., however, the specific but indefinite noun phrase forces a past-tense reading, just like the other [+specific] cases. This interaction has been described for Haitian Creole, and interpreted as evidence that while stativity is useful in accounting for tense interpretation, other aktionsart properties (e.g. telicity) are also important. Bickerton (1981) proposed for creoles in general the following pattern: – The definite article is used for presupposed/specific NPs (98); – the indefinite article is used for asserted/specific NPs (99); and – no (zero) article for non-specific NPs (100). This account describes much JamC data (98–100), though a number of non-Atlantic creoles do allow a definite interpretation of bare nouns (Holm 2000: 214; i.e., cases resembling 97 c. behave like 97 a.). (98)

Lef dem chiljren op a di hoos. ‘[I] left those kids up at the house.’

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(99)

Y’av a glas choch op de. ‘There’s a glass[-fronted] church up there.’

(100) Bad man dem taim-de! ‘[There were] bad guys around in those days.’ Furthermore, generic noun phrases, which are utterly non-transparent in the StE article system, are systematically rendered with no article in JamC. The subjects of the StE sentences in (101–104) are all generic, but each exhibits a different determiner structure. In their JamC equivalents, each subject noun phrase would be rendered simply Man (except 104, Wiel a mamal, with the equative copula a). (101) A man should have a dog. (102) Man is a mammal. (103) Men are mammals. (104) The whale is a mammal. (105) Police shoot Starman inna dance ... Dem rain down gunshot pon him. ‘The police shot Starman at a dance ... They rained down gunshots on him.’ (Sistren 1987: 192) However, in JamC a bare noun may also receive an indefinite, specific reading (gunshot in 105), suggesting that at least some sentences like (97) c. behave like (97) e. Thus bare noun phrases, just like bare verb forms, do not have a single necessary interpretation. This is another piece of evidence that categorical analyses based on privative oppositions misrepresent creole grammars, including JamC: strict form-meaning isomorphy does not hold for bare, unmarked forms. From a historical perspective, this is unsurprising: unstressed, non-transparent elements like the English articles might well have gone missing early in language contact, leaving bare forms subject to a range of interpretations and contextual constraints. Subsequent conventionalization over three centuries has not essentially altered this situation. Though the reconstituted article system of JamC operates along simpler, more regular lines than that of StE, it is not the sort of perfectly neat, idealized system which linguists prefer to construct for creole grammars (but which is alien to other natural languages). 10.4.

Number marking

In contexts where Standard English requires plural number to be categorically marked with allomorphs of {plural -s}, JamC attaches post-nominal affix -dem, historically derived from the third-person plural pronoun dem ‘they’. Plural -dem only occurs on definite nouns, and there is a strong tendency for it to be preceded by di ‘the’, while it is very rarely found in the dem + Noun-dem construction (86

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above). Plural -dem is only available for third-person referents, not first-person or direct address (* Aal yu bwai-dem! ‘All you boys!”) – no doubt owing to its pronominal origin. Yet the mesolect shows frequent use of s-marking, and JamC also allows zeromarking of plural nouns (pieren in 107), which occurred 45 percent of the time in a Kingston study. In fact, both -s and zero-marked forms, and variation between the two, are attested in 17th- and 18th-century JamC – far earlier than -dem, which has only been found from the latter half of the 19th century (Lalla and D’Costa 1990). All are present in basilectal speech as well as mesolectal (106). Though it is relatively rare, it is perfectly acceptable for -dem and -s to co-occur (107–109): -s is always more closely attached to the noun (i.e. Noun-s-dem), while -dem may attach to the right edge of the noun phrase (109). (106) Tings noh bright, bickle noh nuff! ‘Things aren’t easy, there’s not much food!’

(Bennett 1966: 121)

(107) Afta a no iivn rimemba di nuots-dem agen. ‘I don’t even remember the [musical] notes any more.’ (108) Fi-dem pieren mait muor richa dan mai pieren, so dem mait av muor – beta fasilitiz-dem. ‘Their parents might be richer than mine, so they might have more – better facilities.’ (109) Frenz an a uol-dem, neva falo frenz an a uol. ‘Friends in general, never follow friends in general.’ Possessives, demonstratives and definite articles all mark a noun-phrase as definite; -dem cannot easily appear without them. While indefinite quantifiers freely occur with -dem in partitive phrases (110, 111), the very few instances of definite quantifiers (e.g. cardinal numerals) plus Noun-dem are often interpretable as indefinite (note the first use of two in 112). Furthermore, di + Noun-dem phrases are compatible with a definite but non-specific reading (113). (110) Some a di woman dem is single woman. ‘Some of the women are single women.’

(Sistren 1987: 49)

(111) None a di member dem no do notten bout it. ‘None of the members did anything about it.’

(Sistren 1987: 87)

(112) Me pack up me two sinting dem inna two big barrel. ‘I packed up my few possessions into two big barrels.’ (Sistren 1987: 192) (113) Di man dem in my district is not easy. ‘The men of my district can be truculent.’

(Sistren 1987: 89)

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-Dem is only allowed to occur in definite NPs. In StE, of course, this requirement does not apply to -s at all, but in JamC, these environments also favor -s. Determiners that mark number (quantifiers, numerals and demonstratives) disfavor -s, while -dem practically does not occur with them at all. This can be characterized as a functional pattern, where markers tend to appear in cases that would otherwise not bear surface signs of their plural meaning. Both markers are favored by the presence of a [+human] head noun. Similar constraints apply in Liberian and Nigerian English Creole varieties, possibly related to -dem’s history of grammaticalization from a pronoun with primarily human reference. Number marking in JamC grammar is thus characterized by intricate, coexisting constraints on competing forms from English (-s) and Creole (-dem). 10.5.

Associative plurals and other phenomena

In JamC, as in a number of Atlantic Creoles and African substrate languages, an associative plural using -dem may attach to a person’s proper name with the meaning ‘X and her customary associates’ (e.g. friends, family members, co-workers, etc.). While this construction resembles coordinate structures in vernacular Englishes (e.g. John an’ dem in AAVE, see Wolfram, this volume), there is no conjunction in the JamC cases (114). (114) Miss Waaka dem laaf afta im. ‘Miss Walker and the others laughed at him.’

(Roberts 1973: 18)

(115) Mi faati-plenti aredi! ‘I am well over forty already!’ JamC possesses several indefinite quantifiers which contrast with StE, and typically co-occur with -dem, other than those given by Bailey (1966: 30). A near-obsolete one is pempeny ‘plentiful’ (DJE: 345, < Twi mpempem ‘thousands’); common today is uol-iip ‘many, a lot’ (< whole heap). Wan-wan may either mean ‘occasional(ly), sporadic’ or ‘one at a time’. The word -plenti may be suffixed to a numeral (115), but this normally only happens with a bi-syllabic stem. Finally, measure words of weight, distance, currency etc. occur in JamC much as in StE but unlike other many British dialects which have three mile, four pound, they show no tendency to disfavor plural marking with -s – in fact, there is a small tendency to the contrary.

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Conclusion

Compared to many creoles, and indeed many vernacular dialects of English, a great deal is known about JamC morphology and syntax – but this basic description of morphology and syntax suggests further exploration is needed. I have barely mentioned sociolinguistic and applied linguistic research. I conclude by calling for research into poorly-explored areas, encouraging the empirical use of language corpora to shed light on JamC by looking at new and little-studied sources. Linguists often rely too much on their own, or other people’s, intuitions, or on a handful of well-known texts or sources of data (e.g. Emmanuel Rowe’s stories, transcribed by DeCamp in Le Page 1960; Beryl Bailey’s native intuitions in Bailey 1966). JamC is a vital language, continually producing new data, both innovative and traditional, for linguists to attend to. Recent useful examinations include the study of ordinary vernacular writing, mass media, style and register, vernacular orthography, translation to and from JamC, academic writing, and institutionally-defined speech and literacy. There can be little doubt that a great deal more remains to be discovered.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Akers, Glenn 1981 Admissibility conditions on final consonant clusters in the Jamaican continuum. In: Pieter Muysken (ed.), Generative Studies on Creole Languages, 1–24. Dordrecht: Foris. Alleyne, Mervyn C. 1971 Acculturation and the cultural matrix of creolization. In: Hymes (ed.), 169– 186. Bailey, Beryl Loftman 1971 Jamaican Creole: Can dialect boundaries be defined? In: Hymes (ed.), 341– 348. Baugh, John 1980 A re-examination of the Black English copula. In: Labov (ed.), 83–106. Bennett, Louise 1966 Jamaica Labrish. London: Collins. Cassidy, Frederic G. 1971 Tracing the pidgin element in Jamaican Creole. In: Hymes (ed.), 203-221. Cheshire, Jenny 1982 Linguistic variation and social function. In: Suzanne Romaine (ed.), Sociolinguistic Variation in Speech Communities, 153–166. London: Edward Arnold.

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Christie, Pauline 1996 Jamaican relatives in focus. In: Pauline Christie (ed.), Caribbean Language Issues Old and New, 48–60. Mona JA: University of West Indies Press. Comrie, Bernard 1985 Tense. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dance, Daryl C. 1985 Folklore from Contemporary Jamaicans. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press. DeCamp, David 1971 Towards a generative analysis of a post-creole speech continuum. In: Hymes (ed.), 349-370. Loftman, Beryl 1953 Creole languages of the Caribbean area. M.A. thesis, Columbia University. Patrick, Peter L. 1997 Style and register in Jamaican Patwa. In: Schneider (ed.), 41–56. Pollard, Velma 1989 The particle en in Jamaican Creole: A discourse-related account. English World-Wide 10: 55–68. 1994 Dread Talk: The Language of Rastafari. Kingston: Canoe Press. Radford, Andrew 1997 Syntax: A Minimalist Introduction. New York: Cambridge University Press. Rickford, John R. 1996 Copula variability in Jamaican Creole and African American Vernacular English: A reanalysis of DeCamp’s texts. In: Guy, Feagin, Schiffrin and Baugh (eds.), 357–372. Roberts, Peter 1973 Speech of 6-year-old Jamaican children. Society for Caribbean Linguistics Occasional Paper No. 1. Mona, JA: University of the West Indies (Caribbean Language Research Programme). Russell, Thomas 1868 The Etymology of Jamaica Grammar. Kingston: DeCordova, MacDougall. [Reprinted in full in Lalla and D’Costa (eds.), 184–201.] Shields, Kathryn 1989 Standard English in Jamaica: A case of competing models. English WorldWide 10: 41–53. Sistren, with Honor Ford-Smith 1987 Lionheart Gal: Life-stories of Jamaican Women. Toronto: Sister Vision. Watson, G. Llewellyn 1991 Jamaican Sayings: With notes on Folklore, Aesthetics and Social Control. Tallahassee, FL: Florida A&M University Press. Winford, Donald 1996 Verbs, adjectives and categoriality in Caribbean English Creoles. In: Pauline Christie (ed.), Caribbean Language Issues Old and New, 12–26. Mona, JA: University of West Indies Press.

Eastern Caribbean English-derived language varieties: morphology and syntax Michael Aceto

1.

Introduction

The syntax of the Anglophone Eastern Caribbean is only marginally better documented than the phonology of this region. Consult the chapter on the phonology of the Eastern Caribbean by Aceto (other volume) for a discussion of this region’s frequent absence from research programs in creolistics and for a map of the region; see Aceto (2002a) who designates specific islands of the Eastern Caribbean (among other areas of the Americas as well) as neglected sites for future research. Aceto and Williams (2003) fills in some of the research gaps noted in Aceto (2002a). Syntax has often been considered at the heart of Creole studies as it is within the discipline of linguistics in general. Many theoretical issues in creole studies (e.g. the locus of creole emergence, whether creole languages offer unique insights into internal language or cognitive constructs, the nature of variation in creole-speaking communities, etc.) rely largely on syntactic data in order to support their claims. This chapter is largely based on Holm (1988–1989), Winford (1993), Aceto and Williams (2003), various specific articles referenced below, and the author’s own notes from fieldwork whose results have not yet appeared in published articles.

2.

Some general syntactic features of Eastern Caribbean English-derived languages

2.1.

Introduction

In this chapter, I discuss some syntactic features found in the general Eastern Caribbean (while making reference to features believed to be representative of the Western Caribbean as well), and then discuss specific islands and their Englishderived varieties. It should be acknowledged that we do not have much research on many of these varieties, at least when compared to the impressive amount of research carried out on, say, Jamaica and the Surinamese Creole languages (and thus they are largely ignored in this discussion). See the chapter on the phonology of the Eastern Caribbean by Aceto (other volume) for a discussion of English varieties heard by Africans in the Western Hemisphere and for the linguistic motivations for separating Caribbean restructured Englishes into broad Western and Eastern varieties.

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2.2.

Preverbal markers

2.2.1. Past There are several overt preverbal past tense markers in the Caribbean in general, and nearly all of them have been documented in the Eastern Caribbean, though there is a preference for reflexes of mi(n) in many locations (e.g. Antigua, Barbuda, Dominica). It is important to remember that dynamic or [-stative] verbs (and sometimes even [+stative] verbs as well) often have a default “past” interpretation even if there is no overt past tense marker stated. (The terms past and future with regard to tense, instead of anterior and irrealis, are used along the lines suggested in Winford 1993.) (1)

a. [luk mIN go a skul] ‘Luke went/has gone to school.’ (Barbuda; Aceto 2002b) b. [tri a hi frEn w√z de] ‘Three of his friends were there.’ (St. Thomas; Hancock 1987: 283) c. [trii a hi frEn bIn dE dE] ‘Three of his friends were there.’ (St.Vincent; Hancock 1987: 283) d. [mi waak kras de yEside] ‘I walked along there yesterday.’ (St. Kitts/Nevis; Hancock 1987: 292) e. [onli wan boi k√m] ‘Only one boy came.’ (St. Eustatius; Aceto fc. a)

The past tense marker bin is commonly heard in Jamaica and even in the Eastern Caribbean as is the marker di(d), which is often considered an intermediate or so-called mesolectal form and is probably the most widely distributed form throughout the Caribbean. Forms related to mi(n) are found in both Western and Eastern Caribbean Englishes but seem to have emerged more strongly in the Eastern Caribbean. In several fieldwork locations (e.g. Barbuda, Dominica) I have extensively documented mi(n) but not a single instance of bin, though Hancock (1987) reveals several instances of preverbal bin in Eastern Caribbean locations such as St. Vincent and St. Kitts/Nevis. Preverbal woz is heard in the Western Caribbean, specifically within creole-speaking areas of Panama (Aceto 1996), but has not been documented, to my knowledge, for any area of the Eastern Caribbean. The US Virgin Islands reveal preverbal past tense di(d) or had; Whitehead (1932) reveals the use of bin as a past tense marker. No researcher, to my knowledge, has yet explored why [mIn] and its related forms emerged so strongly as past tense markers in the Eastern Caribbean as opposed to some form of [bIn] as is more common in Jamaica and Suriname. Clearly, the word-initial onset [m-] in [mIn] may be transparently viewed as a nasalization of the word-initial [b] in [bIn], or, from a diachronic point of view, as a weakening of the word-initial [b-] segment as it assumes the feature of nasality. Is this feature

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due somehow to the native languages spoken by African slaves? Is it a local innovation? If so, from where did it emerge and spread? Furthermore, the reflexes [mIN] and [mi] have no correspondences (e.g. [bIN] or [bi]) in areas that display high usage of past tense [bIn]. What factors are responsible for the emergence and persistent use of [mIn] and its reflexes in specific areas of the Caribbean? These questions are beyond the scope of the present chapter but I will try to provide answers in the future. Several islands in the Anglophone Eastern Caribbean such as Saba and St. Eustatius have no overt past tense markers. The past is indicated by default, several strong verb forms (e.g. gaan ‘gone/went’), suppletive forms (e.g. woz ‘was’) or by context (e.g. yesterday, last week, etc.). 2.2.2. Future The general future tense marker in the Eastern Caribbean is go and sometimes goin, but these are not exclusive to the region. (2)

a. [mo go du am tumara] ‘I’m going to do it tomorrow.’ b. [Si a go siN] ‘She is going to sing.’ (Barbuda; Aceto 2002b: 234) c. [Siz gooEn tu sEIN] ‘She is going to sing.’ (Saba; Hancock 1987: 301) d. [SI go sIN] ‘She is going to sing.’ (Carriacou; Hancock 1987: 301) e. [a go d√n fIks It pçn dE bai tomaro] ‘I will have fixed it on there before tomorrow.’ (Grenada; Hancock 1987: 304)

The future tense marker gwain, which is so prevalent in the Western Caribbean, seems not to have emerged with anywhere near the same distribution in the Eastern Caribbean. In many fieldwork locations (e.g. Barbuda, St. Eustatius, Dominica among Kokoy speakers) gwain was rejected as a local form, and I did not record it either. The marker a go is also heard in the Eastern Caribbean. Winford (1993: 58–60) states that the semantic difference between go and a go is generally that the former indicates volition and the latter intention. However, I was unable to elicit these purportedly different meanings explicitly through interviews with informants in Barbuda who use both forms, though the meanings Winford ascribes may still be productive in other locations. Guyanese Creole English reveals the form sa as a future tense marker (as well as go). This form is most likely derived from Dutch zal ‘shall, will’. Dutch-derived varieties were spoken in the general area of Guyana and Suriname historically; sa is also documented for Sranan, Saramaccan, Negerhollands, and Berbice and Skepi Dutch.

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2.2.3. Progressive aspect There is a preference for preverbal a or sometimes da in the Eastern Caribbean, though in the same location preverbal de may occur to some degree as does the common verbal suffix -in as well (da is documented in some western varieties such as Jamaican as well), which sometimes can co-occur with preverbal a. (3)

a. [wi a taak] ‘we are talking’ b. [so waa mi a traiIn fu se] ‘So what am I trying to say?’ (Barbuda; Aceto 2002b: 232) c. [nçtn n de apm] ‘Nothing’s happening.’ (Antigua; Hancock 1987: 287) d. [hi mama a kaal çm] ‘His mother is calling him.’ (St. Vincent; Hancock 1987: 290) e. [a traIn tu sii] ‘I’m trying to see.’ (St. Eustatius; Aceto fc. a)

Often a is associated with the Eastern Caribbean and de with the western group of English-derived languages, but de is documented for Barbuda and Antigua as well as among Kokoy speakers in Dominica (more below) who exclusively use e as a progressive marker (e.g. mi e nyam ‘I’m eating’). In the US Virgin Islands, Whitehead (1932) reveals the use of (d)a as progressive markers. 2.2.4. Completive aspect As in many Anglophone Caribbean communities (as well as in North American varieties of English), preverbal done [dn] is the completive marker (e.g. she done eat ‘she’s finished eating/she’s already eaten’). See Hancock (1987: 296–297) for a list of English-derived varieties that exhibit reflexes of this broad pattern. Postverbal or clause-final [dn] is often considered to be the older pattern but nevertheless it appears to be highly restricted (if occurring at all) in the Eastern Caribbean. Completive aspect can be signaled by an adverbial such as [aredi] ‘already’ as well, e.g. she eat already. 2.2.5. Habitual aspect Often preverbal doz is considered a habitual marker that characterizes Eastern Caribbean varieties. However, it is restrictively heard in the Western Caribbean as well, though its occurrence there may be related to intra-Caribbean migration in the last century. Many Eastern Caribbean varieties also use the preverbal progressive aspectual marker a (and sometimes de) as a habitual marker. (4)

a. [wi doz traiIn fi gEt di haus finiS nau] ‘We have been trying to finish the house (for some time).’

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b. [Si du om aal taim ∼ Si doz aalweiz a du om] ‘She does that all the time/she’s always doing that.’ c. [bout a kam In bai nait] ‘Boats arrive by night.’ (Barbuda; Aceto 2002b: 236) d. [i de si i brEda] ‘she sees her brother (on weekends).’ (Antigua; Hancock 1987: 288) e. [Si d√z si Si brEda] ‘she see her brother (on weekends).’ (St. Kitts/Nevis/Carriacou; Hancock 1987: 288) Western Caribbean varieties often leave the verb phrase unmarked (e.g. she go by im haus ‘she stops by his house [regularly]’, which is reminiscent of similar habitual strategies in lexifier dialects. However, some areas of the Anglophone Eastern Caribbean such as Saba and St. Eustatius exhibit the same grammatical pattern. In some areas of the Eastern Caribbean, V(erb)+-in can express either habitual or progressive action, whereas it typically only expresses progressive action in the Western group. However, V+-in as a marker of habituality seems limited to the Windward Islands that reveal a joint Francophone/Anglophone history (e.g. St. Lucia, Dominica, Grenada). (5)

[de gooin in toun evri sonde] ‘They go to town every Sunday.’ (Garrett 2003: 167)

This strategy seems related to the similar grammatical marker ka in the earlier French creole that also has both functions. In the Bahamas (which is often considered part of the North American group of Englishes but geographically proximate to the Eastern Caribbean as well), habitual be is used with verb forms, e.g. they just be playing or they be walk right up, in a manner similar to that found in African American Vernacular English (AAVE). However, doz indicates habitual action in the Bahamas as well, as is noted for much of the Eastern Caribbean in general. For habitual actions exclusively in the past, yustu (< used to) appears in a range of Englishes in the Caribbean and North America, though other markers described above can also be interpreted in past contexts. 2.3.

Copula

Copula forms and their distribution are not usually features that typologically define Eastern English-derived varieties vis-à-vis Western varieties. In general, the nominal or equative copula is often [a] but [Iz] and [bi] are also found in most consultants’ repertoires as well. The attributive form is often [de] or zero, as is also common in general English-derived Atlantic creoles. The locative copula is often [de] or [Iz]. In addition, in Barbuda, tap (historically < stop) functions as a kind of copula (e.g. [wai ya tap so] ‘Why are you like that?’). The form tan

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(historically < stand) as in [dEm no tan so] ‘they’re not like that’ is reported for Antiguan (Hancock 1987: 287). (Bastimentos Creole English in Panama displays the use of [stie] in a manner similar to [tap] and [tan].) (6)

a. [di waadIn a di man dat kontrol di ailan] ‘The warden is the man who controls the island.’ b. [hi a ma paatna/hi a mi b√di] ‘He’s my partner/friend/buddy.’ c. [we i de] ‘Where is he/she?’ d. [Si/i aarait] ‘She’s doing fine.’ e. [natn a hapIn] ‘Nothing’s happening.’ (Barbuda; Aceto 2002b: 239)

According to Hancock (1987: 284), the following islands of the Eastern Caribbean exhibit reflexes of is [Iz] in nominal copula forms: St. Thomas, St. Eustatius (confirmed by Aceto forthcoming a), Saba, Carriacou, and Grenada. St. Kitts/Nevis exhibit a zero form in the nominal construction, e.g. [hi mi paadna] ‘he’s my partner’, which is similar to constructions found in AAVE. 2.4.

Plurality

The post-nominal plural marker [an dEm] is generally diagnostic of the Anglophone Eastern Caribbean, though simple post-nominal [dEm], the form generally associated with Western Caribbean varieties, is heard as well. Hancock (1987: 305) lists pluralizing [an dEm] forms for Antigua, St. Vincent, and Carriacou; and simple post-nominal [dEm] forms for St. Thomas and St. Eustatius (confirmed by Aceto forthcoming a) as well as bound inflectional morphology for Saba and Grenada. The unique post-nominal plural form [an de] is heard in Barbuda as well. There is as yet no research examining why the post-nominal form [an dEm] (or [an de] in Barbuda), as opposed to simple [dEm], emerged so strongly in the Eastern Caribbean. (7)

a. [di Siip an dEm] ‘the sheep’ b. [luk pan maavin an de a troubl dI Siip] ‘Look at Marvin and his friends bothering the sheep.’ c. [di artoritiz an dEm gat rait doN tu di elbo in de] ‘The authorities are up to their elbows in there (the drug trade).’ d. [de hEd fo amerIka bika dEm plEnti gat kruz SIp an de] ‘They head for America because they have a lot of cruise ships.’ e. [stap tSesIn dI Sip dEm] ‘Stop chasing the sheep!’ (Barbuda; Aceto 2002b: 238)

A further plural strategy is also found in many Caribbean varieties, including many English-derived dialects in several locations: prenominal [dEm] (i.e. [dEm

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diplomatIk paasport] ‘their diplomatic passports’) indicates not only possession but plurality as well. Hancock (1987: 305) also records this strategy for St. Kitts/ Nevis. In instances of this nature, a redundant post-nominal plural marker is rarely if ever heard. (8)

[an dEn de kieri in dEm sut bika dEm gat dEm diplomatIk paasport] ‘And then they carry (drugs) in their suits because they have diplomatic passports’ (Barbuda; Aceto 2002b: 238)

The co-occurrence of these forms in the Eastern Caribbean may be due to intra-Caribbean migration in the last 150 years, or they may indicate a long standing point of variation since English-derived restructured varieties began to emerge in the Caribbean during the period of slavery. It is difficult to be certain, even if creolists in general feel more comfortable with the highly questionable assumption that earlier varieties of creole languages were monolithic and contemporary synchronic variation is a more recent (i.e. post-emancipation) phenomenon. 2.5.

Pronouns

It is in the pronominal systems that we can see what may be the most transparent and robust split between Eastern and Western Caribbean English-derived varieties. The following pronominal forms are heard in the Eastern Caribbean. All forms should be considered to have multiple functions as subject, object and possessive pronouns unless otherwise indicated. Table 1.

Pronouns in Anglophone Eastern Caribbean varieties Singular

1st person

a (subject), mi

nd

yu

rd

(h)i ‘he/she/it’ (subject/possessive)

2 person 3 person

Si ‘she’ (subject/possessive) om, am, im ‘he/she/it’ (object) Plural 1st person nd

aawi

2 person

aayu/unu

3rd person

de (subject), dEm

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Many Eastern Caribbean varieties, as reported in Hancock (1987: 298), lack the second person plural form [unu] or any of its reflexes that are so common in Western Caribbean English-derived varieties (however, Barbados reveals [wuna]). Instead, Eastern varieties reveal the common regional form [aayu] or [alyu] or some reflex of those forms. Reisman (1964: 64) states that forms for the second person plural pronoun [hunu ~ unu] are reported by some Antiguans to be more closely associated with Barbuda and largely absent from Antigua. Though the form is occasionally heard in Barbuda (I recorded [unu] specifically), it is far less common than [aayu], etymologically ‘all of you’. The former form is more associated with exasperation or anger with a group of persons, often children who are misbehaving. Diagnostically, unu is often considered more Western Caribbean and a(l)yu, which is rarely heard in western varieties, more Eastern Caribbean. The common English-derived dialect form [y(u)aal] is heard to some degree as well. Other pronouns that seem to be typologically diagnostic of this eastern-western split are (h)im (as both subject and object pronouns) in Western varieties, which are nearly always (h)i (as a subject pronoun) and om (as a third person singular object pronoun ‘he/she/it’) in Eastern Caribbean varieties; see Williams (2001) who argues that the source of this pronoun is restructured varieties of Dutch. Finally, wi is often the first person plural pronoun (as both subject and object pronouns) in Western varieties, and the corresponding form is aawi in the Eastern Caribbean; some of the Leeward Islands (Antigua, St. Kitts, Nevis, Montserrat, Anguilla, Barbuda) reveal [aabi] (Holm 1988-1989: 451).

3.

Some features of specific Eastern Caribbean Islands

3.1.

The Turks and Caicos Islands

The Turks and Caicos Islands are often considered part of North American varieties of English. However, they are included in Aceto and Williams (2003) due to the fact that these islands are geographically proximate as well as under-researched. Cutler (2003) examines the English spoken on Grand Turk Island among the Turks and Caicos chain of islands. She concludes that Turks Island English (TIE) has more in common with AAVE (as well as Gullah and Bermudian) than with other varieties of English spoken in the Caribbean. For example, in TIE plurality is variably marked by the suffix -s, its allomorph -z, or Ø. The post-nominal plural marker [dm], found in many Atlantic Creoles (e.g. [di boi dm] the boys) did not occur in Cutler’s corpus. Also, possession is variably expressed by a suffix -s or Ø. TIE speakers exclusively use the first person singular nominative pronoun I [ai] unlike many English varieties in the West Indies that display [mi] or [a]. Lastly, all the speakers in her corpus used the third person singular verbal suffix -s variably. Future tense is marked by gon [gn] and will [ il] in TIE as are common strategies in AAVE (e.g. he gon build my house ‘he’s going to build my house’ (Cutler

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2003: 68). Furthermore, there is no overt pre-verbal past tense marker; the past is indicated by verbal forms (both regular and irregular) found in lexifier varieties. Lastly, no examples of completive forms such as done appear in her corpus. Cutler believes that studying the language of the Caicos Islanders, most of whom are descended from American-born slaves, may provide some insight into earlier forms of AAVE spoken in the USA. 3.2.

Virgin Islands

Sabino, Diamond and Cockcroft (2003) examine plural marking in several of the Virgin Islands, both American and British. Their consultants reveal intrasystemic variation in that they all display the Standard English strategy of using -s (or one of its variants), the creole strategy of post-nominal dem, and a noun that is unmarked for number. They provide a valuable longitudinal perspective of 51 years from 1933 to 1984 and represent speakers from four of the Virgin Islands: St. Thomas, St. John, Anegada, and Tortola. They conclude that audience is a crucial factor in predicting which forms their consultants select and that “in over four decades there has been no appreciable shift towards Standard English” (Sabino, Diamond and Cockcroft 2003: 92). 3.3.

Anguilla

Williams (2003) examines the Webster dialect of Anguillian English, a variety spoken among the island’s population of European descent in Island Harbour. See the discussion of Anglophone Eastern Caribbean phonology by Aceto (other volume) for a discussion of Williams’ research and the importance of understanding Euro-Caribbean varieties for creole and dialect studies. Many of the features of the Webster dialect are common throughout the Caribbean. For example, all varieties of Anguillian English follow the general Anglophone Caribbean pattern of not inverting subjects and auxiliary verbs in question forms (e.g. you did go?). The determiners are similar to those found in other varieties of English in the Eastern Caribbean. The indefinite article alternates between the more vernacular form one [wan ~ an] and the more formal form a [e ~ ]. Possession is indicated by simple juxtaposition of two nominals in the order possessorpossessed (e.g. my mother father … my daddy father were brothers), as is common in the Caribbean and in AAVE, but suffixation is used as well (e.g. in my father’s time). Negation is often indicated by ain’t/tain’t/tisn’t, and doubly marked forms are typical of the Webster dialect of Island Harbour as they are in many Englishderived varieties in the Americas. Pronouns heard in the Webster dialect are: I [ai ~ ] for first person singular, and he/she [hi]/[ i] for third person singular human males and females respectively. Speakers also use [awi] ‘all we’ as the first person plural pronoun.

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Several features of the Webster dialect are different than common forms heard in the general Anglophone Eastern Caribbean and in other English-derived varieties spoken on Anguilla. For example, the second person plural form [yu] ‘all you’ is not part of the grammar of Island Harbour. Furthermore, the Webster dialect does not reveal any use of the postposed plural marker [dm] that is so common in many Anglophone Caribbean creoles, and this form is not part of the grammar of Anguillian English Creole in other villages on the island as well. Habitual aspect is often indicated by the third person present verbal suffix -s (e.g. I goes there every Sunday). This strategy is often used in the Webster dialect and is heard across the island beyond Island Harbour. This feature is common in many of the English dialects of the British Isles (see, for example, Anderwald, this volume). Preverbal do [d] or the use of the third-person singular present tense form (verbal -s) to indicate habituality are documented as features of the English varieties historically spoken in the southwestern counties of England. Other strategies for marking habituality are: [d] (e.g. Those rooms [d] come hot), [d bi] (e.g. From noon ‘til three o’clock, it [d bi] hot), and [dz] (e.g. I [dz] send it always). Past habitual forms are typically marked with [yuustu] ‘used to’. Some forms in Island Harbor seem similar to AAVE forms, but Williams does not suggest language contact as the explanatory factor. For example, using past perfect forms associated with standard varieties to indicate simple past is a feature that has been widely associated with AAVE and its assumed influence. In Anguillian Englishes, the form is common both in black and white varieties on the island (e.g. my friend, Eddie, he had call). The presence of this strategy in the Webster dialect provides preliminary evidence that the form most likely does not derive from a North American source, and instead, likely has a source, or sources, in English dialects brought to the Caribbean by settlers and colonists. Similarly, the future is marked with the preverbal marker /gçn/ in Webster dialect (e.g. Someday I [gçn] call you too, you know). Similar forms are found in other varieties of Anguillian English throughout the island. Progressive aspect in the Webster dialect is marked via three strategies: 1) a [] + V+-in (e.g. the new ones did now start [-] comin in), 2) V+-in (e.g. she is goin college in Maryland), and 3) do be + V+-in (e.g. February, March corn do be comin). The first and third strategies appear to be archaic in that they are heard among the oldest Websters, and are often considered to be examples of the way that the older Websters spoke, especially in the times when there was no formal education. Completive aspect is indicated by the common preverbal form done, e.g. I done gone, though it is limited in the Webster dialect to older folks who are thought not to have had much education.

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Barbuda

Aceto (2002b) describes some of the general grammatical features associated with Barbudan Creole English (BCE). BCE reveals no fewer than four different present progressive aspectual constructions: a + V (e.g. [wi a taak] ‘we are talking’), de + V (e.g. [yu mada de kaal yu] ‘your mother is calling you’), V-in (e.g. [yu mami kaalin yu] ‘your mother is calling you’), and a + V-in (e.g. [so waa mi a traiin fu se] ‘So what am I trying to say?’). This last strategy is reported for Anguilla (Williams 2003), the Bahamas (McPhee 2003), and the Appalachian area of the USA (Wolfram and Christian 1976). The simple past tense marker [min] (e.g. [de min a inglisSman (a inglisSman dem bi)] ‘they were Englishmen’) is also realized as [mIN] (with a velarized nasal) (e.g. [luk (mIN) go a skul] ‘Luke went/has gone to school’) or as the reduced form [mi] (e.g. [an de mi hab plenti gol] ‘and they had a lot of gold’). The widespread Caribbean form [di(d)] is heard as well (e.g. [a inglisSman di bi tSif a polis] ‘an Englishman was the chief of police’). Habitual aspect is indicated by preverbal doz (e.g. [wi doz traiin fi get di haus finiS nau] ‘We have been trying to finish the house for some time’) and an unmarked verbal form used with an adverbial (e.g. [Si du om aal taim] ‘She does it all the time’). Progressive forms may also be interpreted as habituals as well (e.g. [buot a kam in bai nait] ‘Boats often arrive at night’). In BCE, the future can be marked by either go (e.g. [yu Sut wan dir an de go bri yu in] ‘you shoot a deer and they’re going to bring you in’) or a go (e.g. [ma sisa a go antiga tumara] ‘My sister is going to Antigua tomorrow’). In several instances, gan arose, as did wil, but not gwain. BCE reveals a seemingly unique post-nominal pluralizing marker: [an de] (e.g. [luk pan maavin an de a troubl dI Siip] ‘Look at Marvin and his friends bothering the sheep’). This plural marker is considered more “Barbudan” by many of my consultants than the typical Antiguan or general Eastern Caribbean form [an dEm] or simple post-nominal [dEm], which is occasionally heard. Reisman (1964: 114) reveals [an dEm], [dEm], and [Em] for geographically proximate Antiguan Creole English, which is just two dozen miles to the south of Barbuda; Farquhar (1974: 43) only mentions “-andem” for Antiguan. None of these sources reveals post-nominal [an de] as is heard in Barbudan Creole English. 3.5.

Carriacou

Kephart (2000) sketches many of the basic grammatical features of Carriacou Creole English (CCE). Several CCE features have been rarely documented in the literature. For example, the general grammatical function of an within the verbal complex in both future and past verbal constructions (e.g. [a gouin an pik mango]

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‘I’ll pick mangoes [perhaps tomorrow]’ [2000: 94] and [wi bin an pik mangou] ‘we picked mangoes’ [2000: 93]) has not been explored, to my knowledge, in any research (see Aceto 1998 for a similar occurrence in Panamanian Creole English). The morpheme classes exhibited by CCE and other English-derived varieties in the Caribbean (2000: 64–65) (e.g. [fas(t) + -a] ‘faster’, [wikid + -nis] ‘wickidness’) raise the issue of when diachronically this aspect of morphology emerged in the creole’s grammar. The issue of whether Creoles manifest bound inflectional or derivational morphology is a subject of some current debate in creole studies (see McWhorter 1998; Plag 2001). Also, the preference of CCE in using [finiS] as a completive marker (e.g. [a finiS it] ‘I’m done eating’; [d√n] seems to be rarely heard in this creole) is one of several interesting and/or unique features of this English-derived language (2000: 90–91), and it seems to point towards the hypothesis that CCE may be significantly influenced by the chronologically earlier French Creole. Some other general features found in CCE are as follows. As with several creoles in the Eastern Caribbean (e.g. Barbudan, Antiguan), the post-nominal plural marker is an dem in CCE (e.g. [wi ting an dem] ‘our things’) not simple dem as is common in the Western Caribbean. Progressive aspect is signaled by V+-in (e.g. [rein komin] ‘rain is coming’) or preverbal (d)a (e.g [we yu a go] ‘where are you going?’). The past tense marker is di(d) (e.g. [shi di dei in skul] ‘she was at school’) and the future marker is gou (e.g. [yu gou reivn] ‘you will be greedy’). The stressed form bín only appears as the past of be (e.g. [we yu bín] ‘where have you been/where were you?’) or in limited past tense constructions (e.g. [wi bín gouin houm] ‘we were going home’; [a bín an pik mangou] ‘I was picking mangoes’). Negation is indicated by placing no, dou, or en before the predicate (e.g. [a en go dans wit yu] ‘I won’t dance with you’; [de no spikin patwa gi yu] ‘they won’t speak Patois for you’). 3.6.

St. Lucia

Garrett (2003) is the most comprehensive examination of St. Lucian Vernacular English (SLVE) to date. Garrett argues that SLVE is not a creole but instead a vernacular variety that has emerged relatively recently (in the late 19th and 20th centuries) due to contact in educational institutions between English-speaking teachers and students who were/are native speakers of Kwéyòl, a French-lexified creole that dates back to the island’s French colonial period (1642–1803). Thus, SLVE’s greatest influence (phonologically, semantically, and, above all, syntactically) has not been English-derived creoles spoken in the Caribbean but St. Lucia’s Kwéyòl instead. Some of the features that SLVE does not share with other creoles of the Eastern Caribbean are the following: anterior/past mi(n) (or bin); continuative/ progressive (d)a; habitual (d)a; anterior/past did; completive don; the use of en, na, and no as negative preverbal markers; and pluralizing/deictic dem.

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SLVE has several unique features usually not found in most English-derived language varieties in the Caribbean. For example, past tense is indicated by preverbal had (e.g. [hii had iit do bred biifoh hii goo tuu skuul] ‘he ate the bread before he went to school’), habitual aspect is indicated by V+-in (e.g. [dee gooing in toun evrii sondee] ‘they go to town every Sunday’), and the negative imperative is formed by preposing naat tu preverbally (e.g. [naat tuu toch dat] ‘Do not touch that!’; [naat] and [doo] are the usual negative markers). The adverb again [ogen] has been broadened to include the meanings ‘still’, ‘anymore’, and ‘else’, probably on the model of Kwéyòl ankò (< French encore, e.g. [yuu hav moh klooz tuu waash ogen] ‘[do] you still have more clothes to wash?’). Prepositions have different meanings in this language than in other English-derived varieties (e.g. [muuv in do reen] ‘get out of the rain’; [hii sending stoon biihain piipl] ‘he is throwing stones at/after people’). In other instances, no overt prepositions are used in SLVE where they would typically appear in other English-derived varieties (e.g. [hii lafing mii] ‘he is laughing at me’). The completive marker is already [oredii] and not done in SLVE (e.g. [yoh modo riich oredii] ‘your mother has arrived’).

4.

Conclusion

Aceto (2002a) pointed out that many research locations in the Eastern Caribbean have not yet been the focus of any piece of published research: St. John, St. Thomas, Tortola, Virgin Gorda, Anegada, St. Eustatius, the Grenadine Islands of St. Vincent (Bequia, Mustique, Canouan, Union Island, and Mayreau). Furthermore, the following research locations have been the subject of only a single publication in linguistics or creole studies: Grenada, Montserrat, St. Croix, Nevis, St. Martin, and St. Vincent. More work by more fieldworkers would greatly improve our understanding of specific linguistic and sociohistorical features which one lexically-related Creole or English variety may or may not share with another. See Aceto (other volume) on the phonology of the Anglophone Eastern Caribbean for more concluding remarks.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Aceto, Michael 1996 Syntactic innovation in a Caribbean creole: The Bastimetos variety of Panamanian creole English. English World-Wide 17: 43–61. 1998 A new Creole future tense marker emerges in the Panamanian West Indies. American Speech 73: 29–43.

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2002a

Going back to the beginning: Describing the nearly undocumented Anglophone creoles of the Caribbean. In: Gilbert (ed.), 93–118. 2002b Barbudan Creole English: Its history and some grammatical features. English World-Wide 23: 223–250. forthcoming a St. Eustatius Creole English: Why did an English-derived creole emerge in a Dutch colony? forthcoming b Kokoy: Dominica’s third creole language. Aceto, Michael and Jeffrey P. Williams (eds.) 2003 Contact Englishes of the Eastern Caribbean. (Varieties of English Around the World. G30) Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Cutler, Cecilia 2003 English in the Turks and Caicos Island: A look at Grand Turk. In: Aceto and Williams (eds.), 51–80. Garrett, Paul B. 2003 ‘An English Creole’ that isn’t: On the sociohistorical origins and linguistic classification of the vernacular in St. Lucia. In: Aceto and Williams (eds.), 155–210. Hancock, Ian 1987 A preliminary classification of the Anglophone Creoles, with syntactic data from thirty-three representative dialects. In: Gilbert (ed.), 264–334. Farqhuar, Bernadette 1947 A grammar of Antiguan Creole. Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Cornell University. Kephart, Ronald 2000 Broken English. The Creole Language of Carriacou. New York: Peter Lang. McPhee, Helean 2003 The grammatical features of TMA auxiliaries in Bahamian Creole. In: Aceto and Williams (eds.), 29–49. McWhorter, John 1998 Identifying the creole prototype: Vindicating a typological class. Language 74: 788–818. Plag, Ingo 2001 The nature of derivational morphology in creoles and non-creoles. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Linguistics 16: 153–160. Reismann, Karl 1964 ‘The isle is full of noises’: A study of creole in the speech of patterns of Antigua, West Indies. Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Harvard University. Sabino, Robin, Mary Diamond and Leah Cockcroft 2003 Language variety in the Virgin Islands: Plural markings. In: Aceto and Williams (eds.), 81–94. Whitehead, H.S. 1932 Negro dialect of the Virgin Islands. American Speech 7: 175–179. Williams, Jeffrey P. 1987 Anglo-Caribbean English: a study of its sociolinguistic history and the development of its aspectual markers. Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of Texas, Austin. 1988 The development of aspectual markers in Anglo-Caribbean English. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 3: 245–263.

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Arguments against a British dialect source for UM in Bajan English Creole. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 16: 355–363. The establishment and perpetuation of Anglophone white enclave communities in the Eastern Caribbean: The case of Island Harbor, Anguilla. In: Aceto and Williams (eds.), 95–119.

The creoles of Trinidad and Tobago: morphology and syntax Winford James and Valerie Youssef

1.

Introduction

In the words of Allsopp (1996: l, emphasis original), “[t]he vocabulary of Caribbean English comprises the whole active core vocabulary of World English as may be found in any piece of modern English literature, together with all Caribbean regionalisms produced by the ecology, history and culture of the area”. In keeping with the character of that vocabulary as well as of the vocabulary of Creole languages generally, the vocabulary of the Creoles spoken in Trinidad and Tobago is shaped by a partially autonomous phonology, as described in our companion chapter in this handbook, with considerable differences, particularly in the vowel system, from the phonologies of metropolitan (i.e. non-creole) English varieties. It is supported, in varying degrees, by a variety of morphological and semantic processes as summarily reported on by Ian Hancock (1980) and Richard Allsopp (1980), and is characterised by far more derivational than inflectional morphology. Various aspects of the syntax and morphology have been described earlier. The following works, and others (see the full bibliography on the accompanying CD), describe aspects of Tobagonian morphosyntax, both basilectal and mesolectal: James and Youssef (2002); Winer (1993); Winford (1993). And the following describe aspects of Trinidadian morphosyntax, both basilectal and mesolectal: Solomon (1993); Winford (1993); Winer (fc., 1993); James and Youssef (2002). In presenting the description of Tobagonian and Trinidadian morphosyntax, we draw on insights in (some of) them. Because of their low affixation, the Creole languages rely mainly on syntactic relationships between non-affixal grammatical and lexical morphemes in various subsystems of the grammar. In normal speech in Trinidad and Tobago, the grammars in contact are related to one another in the grammars of individuals which display different levels of varilingual competence (James and Youssef 2002). That is to say, people mix basilectal, mesolectal, and acrolectal grammars in the stream of speech in accordance with their degree of control of the individual grammars, and in accordance with the sociolinguistic demands of each situation in which they find themselves. But, as the varietal labels suggest, the different grammars can be isolated. The syntax of basilectal Tobagonian speech as well as of mesolectal Trinidadian and

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Tobagonian speech can therefore be separated out of the speech to a fair extent, although, as detailed in Youssef (1996), there has been a level of merger through close contact which renders exclusive assignation of certain lexical and grammatical items to particular lects problematic. By and large, the mesolectal varieties are shared. However, the very fact that there are two contact systems in Trinidad (mesolect and a local variety of Standard English) and three in Tobago (basilect, mesolect, and a local Standard English) (cf. James and Youssef 2002) means that the norms for usage of the forms in contact vary from one island to the next, mesolectal features being more prestigious in the Tobagonian speech community, where they represent a mid-level variety as opposed to representing a lower-level variety in the Trinidadian speech community where no English Creole basilect has been described. As discussed elsewhere in relation to pre-verbal don in African-American and in Guyanese (Edwards 1995, 2000), different levels of contact between varieties make for a different range of semantic usage in one variety as distinct from another, and this applies equally to Trinidadian and Tobagonian. In addition, factors such as socio-economic background and level of education will determine the relative usage of semantically related markers, for example, StE Present Perfect have + -en versus Creole Ø and done (cf. Winford 1994). All in all, Tobago and Trinidad are separate speech communities in some senses, while sharing understandings to a large extent; these issues have been discussed further in our companion chapter. In this chapter, we will do the following. First, we will illustrate most of the lexico-morphological processes identified above. Secondly, we will illustrate typical sentence structures. Thirdly, we will describe the most common affixal morphemes as well as a variety of non-affixal grammatical morphemes, and illustrate their use in sentences. Finally, we will describe the major systems in the syntax, i.e., the pronoun, verb (including negation), and noun systems. In the process of making these presentations, we will be distinguishing between those forms and structures that are typically (basilectal) Tobagonian and those that are common to the mesolectal varieties of both Tobagonian and Trinidadian (as a convenient shorthand, we thus speak of mesolectal Trinbagonian in the following sections) In the illustrations, a phonemic spelling system is used in which each letter symbolises a particular sound or phoneme. The system is straightforward except for two letters – e
and o
. The first is meant to represent a tense monophthongal pronunciation of the vowel in words like face, which would be [feis] in RP, but [fes] in our Creoles. The second is meant to represent the tense monophthongal sound in words like no
, which would be [n ] in RP, but [no] in our Creoles.

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2.

Lexical expansion/progression

Hancock (1980) identifies twelve processes of lexical progression, dividing them up equally as morphological and semantic. The six morphological ones are: coining (including onomatopoeia and ideophony), incoining or blending (including portmanteaux words), back-formation (including abbreviation), tautology or redundant extension, reduplication, and calquing; and the six semantic ones are: (eight kinds of) extension, shift, convergence (including folk etymology), divergence, tonalising (including tone and intonation), and adoption. Allsopp (1980) discusses Hancock’s categories and provides clarifications that are more in keeping with the Trinidadian and Tobagonian realities. He also adds the following six processes, separately categorising some that Hancock subsumes in more general categories, and without making Hancock’s morphology-semantics distinction: misascription, functional shift, folk etymology or phonological shift in transmission, code overlap, attraction, and free compounding. Table 1 below displays Trinidadian and Tobagonian examples of the products of some of the processes identified by Hancock and Allsopp. For a fuller listing of examples, see Allsopp (1996) and Winer (fc.).

Table 1.

Illustration of lexical expansion processes

WORDS & GLOSSES

PROCESS

DEFINITION OF PROCESS

Bubulups (n) ‘fat lady’; badam ‘sound of a blow or fall’

Coining

Spontaneous creation in display action

Komesiv (adj.) ‘meddlesome and Incoining/ interfering’; bodare
shon (n) ‘trouble blending or calamity’ ai-woota (n) ‘tears’; o
nwe
(adj.) ‘wayward’; do
-mowt ‘threshold’

Calquing or relexification

Kyã (modal) ‘can’; kyã (neg. modal) Semantic pitch ‘cannot’; TE.la (n) (HL) ‘tailor’ / te
. differentiation LA (surname) (LH) ‘Taylor’

Combination of established lexemes/morphemes to make new words Literal translation of substrate words by English words Use of epimorphic pitch/tone (without necessarily changing the stress) to differentiate the meaning of homophones

Basi-basi (n) ‘confusion’; krai-krai (v) ‘cry constantly’

Reduplication

Repetition of a base word for intensity

Puuja ‘prayer meeting’; seke-seke (adj./adv.) ‘random and arbitrary’ / ‘at random and arbitrarily’

Retention

Survival, more or less intact, of substrate words

Ova (prep. & v) ‘be finished/dismissed’; fiftiin (v) ‘turn fifteen’

Functional shift

Increasing the number of wordclasses of a word

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Illustration of lexical expansion processes

WORDS & GLOSSES

PROCESS

DEFINITION OF PROCESS

Phonological Gloori siida ‘gliricidia’; fo
r-an-ahaaf ‘fore-and-aft’; tek iin ‘take ill, shift in transmission be taken ill’; bati manswell ‘bati mamzel’ (French Creole), ‘dragon fly’ (English)

Pronouncing a word that is not well heard on the pattern of already-known others that are close in sound

Sik-owt (n) ‘sick-out’ (on the pattern Attraction of ‘sit-in’ and ‘lock-out)

Formation of phrases by false analogy with a slot in English phrase

Kyaa-du-dis-kyaa-du-dat (n); neva-si-kom-si (n)

Free-compound- ‘Spontaneous nominalising (also ing adjectivalising) of any short phrasal item that has a strong descriptive or allusive thrust’

Long (L)-ai (H) ‘covetousness’; dog (L)-mowt (H) ‘dog’s mouth’; jroma (LL)-man (H)

Compounding

Formation of compound words out of two words by placing a high tone (H) on the last syllable of the last word, but a low tone (L) on the syllable(s) of the preceding word

Vup, bodo
w, budup, blaw

Ideophony

Creation of words to match sound of event, action, etc.

3.

Typical sentence structure

The typical structure of a declarative Creole sentence is SUBJ + PRED, where: SUBJ PRED DP D

→ → → →

NP → QP → AP → PP → LOCP → VP → V → ADVP → COMP =

{DP, NP, QP, AP, PP, LOCP} {VP, PP, ADVP} D NP {demonstrative specifiers, non-demonstrative specifiers, singulariser} (N) N QN AN P NP (P) LOCADV (locative adverb) {V (SUF/PCL) (COMP), (PCL) V (PCL) (COMP)} {adjectival verb (e.g., sik, gud), main verb, copula (e.g., a, de)} ADV {A, V} SUBJ

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Winford James and Valerie Youssef

In the notations above, SUF, PCL, and COMP are respectively short forms for suffix, particle, and complement. In particular, COMP is used here to include the notions of complement and object. N, V, and A are lexical categories, while D, Q, P, LOCADV, SUF, and PCL are grammatical categories. The following sentences illustrate the most typical arrangements of syntactic categories: (1)

Di man iit (di fuud). D N V (D N) ‘The man ate the food.’

(2)

Lochri tikit koos chrii dolaz. N N V Q N ‘A lottery ticket costs three dollars.’

(3)

Red mango don. A N V ‘The red mangos are finished’ / ‘No more red mangos.’

(4)

Onda da chrii de gud tu she
d. P DN SUF V I V ‘That tree there is good to shade under.’

(5)

Ova-so hav plenty bush. P LOCADV V Q N ‘There’s plenty bush over there.’

(6)

Di be
bi sik. D N V ‘The baby is sick.’

(7)

Hi a dakta. D VN ‘He’s a doctor.’

(8)

Hi a sliip. D PCL V ‘He’s sleeping.’

(9)

Hi sliipin. D V-SUF ‘He’s sleeping.’

(10)

Hi bai lochri tikit. D V N N ‘He has bought {a lottery ticket / lottery tickets}.’

(11)

Shi laik red mango. D V A N ‘She likes red-mango.’

The creoles of Trinidad and Tobago: morphology and syntax

(12)

Shi swiip op onda di te
bu. D V PCL P D N ‘She swept [that part of the floor] under the table.’

(13)

Hi kliin o
va-de. D V P LOCADV ‘He cleaned [that part] over there.’

(14)

Hi o
va faas. D ADV A ‘He is too meddlesome.’

(15)

Hi maasta opare
t di kompyuuta. D ADV V DN ‘He is versed in the operation of the computer.’

459

Apart from the declarative relational structure of SUBJ PRED, there are also the following two structures: a) PRED (only), where there is no subject and the constituents are COP(ula) a (basilectal Tobagonian) and COP iz (mesolectal Trinbagonian) followed by COMP; this PRED can be structurally independent; and b) PRED SUBJ PRED, where the first PRED may also be composed of a/iz and COMP, in which case it is structurally independent, or may be composed of a/iz and unsuffixed V, in which case it cannot stand apart from the typical structure SUBJ PRED; in both cases, however, it highlights particular constituents from SUBJ PRED which have moved into it as full phonetic forms or as copies of (parts of) such forms. The following sentences illustrate: (16)

A/Iz di tiicha. COP D N ‘It’s the teacher.’

(17)

A/Iz o
va-de/dyee. COP P LOCADV ‘It’s [that place] over there.’

(18)

A di tiicha1 hi a taak tu t1. COP D N D PCL V P DP ‘It’s the teacher he’s talking to.’

(19)

Iz di tiicha1 hi took-in tu t1. COP D N D V SUF P DP ‘It’s the teacher he’s talking to.’

(20)

A o
va-de1 hi gaan t1. COP P LOCADV D V LOCP ‘It’s over there he’s gone.’

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Winford James and Valerie Youssef

(21)

Iz o
va-dyee1 hi goon t1. COP P LOCADV D V LOCP ‘It’s over there he’s gone.’

(22)

A kom hi a kom. COP V D PCL V ‘He’s COMING.’

(23)

Iz kom hi kom-in. COP V D V SUF ‘He’s COMING.’

Sentences (16-17) feature independent PRED. In (18-21), the DP and LOCP are analysed as moving in full phonetic form from one COMP position to another, leaving bound traces in the process. In (22), a copy of V, rather than the original form itself, moves from COMP to COMP. And in (23), a copy of V, but not of SUF, moves to pre-subject position. The reason why only a copy of V (and not the whole original constituent itself) moves is that the imperfective PCL a is strictly pre-verbal, that is, it must come before a phoneticised verb. In brief, then, our Creoles are ‘SVO’ (or, more accurately, SVC(OMP)) languages, with special sentences without subjects and with highlighted constituents that have moved in full phonetic form or as copies. In both interrogative and exclamative sentences, the declarative order is maintained, only that the intonation differs. The declarative sentence is produced with a relatively falling or low tone on the final constituent of PRED, the interrogative with a relatively rising or high tone, and the exclamative with a tone just lower than the interrogative tone. The fact that the interrogative order is the same as the declarative means that there is no subject-verb/auxiliary inversion. More specifically, to the extent that AUX is a movable category, there is no AUX in the Creoles, and, consequently, no do-support. What the Creoles have instead are immovable pre-verbal particles: (24)

a. Hi doz tiich yu? b. *Doz hi tiich yu? ‘Does he teach you?’

(25)

a. Hi a kom? b. *A hi kom? ‘Is he coming?’

(26)

a. Yu laik it? b. *Duu yu laik it? ‘Do you like it?’

The creoles of Trinidad and Tobago: morphology and syntax

461

Indeed, by comparison with Standard English, there is little movement of constituents in these languages. The unavailability of inversion is directly responsible for non-inverted acrolectal speech like the following sentences, which users generally do not realise is not Standard English: (27)

Evriwon kud sii? ‘Can everyone see?’

(28)

Yuu-ool hd dhat? ‘Did you all hear that?’

4.

Derivational morphology

Some of the most common derivational affixes on metropolitan English nouns, verbs, and adjectives (but not adverbs) have been retained and are productive. There is no productive adverb affix, not even -li, essentially because no morphological distinction is made between descriptive, gradable words that are used adjectivally and adverbially (e.g., priti, swiit). Tables 2-4 display examples of productive affixes. Table 2. Productive noun affixes Noun Affix

Words

-nis

chupidnis, hongrinis

-sh{o~a}n

salve
shan, badare
shan

-yan

Chrinidaadyan, Tube
go
nyan

-ment

betament, govament,

-{o, a}-(man/wuman)

tiicha(wuman), honta(man)

-iiz

chainiiz, japaniiz

-ful

beliful, spuunful

Table 3.

Productive verb affixes

Verb Affix

Words

ri-

ripe
nt, ribil

ova-

o
vadu, o
vaiit, o
vakuk

dismis-

dislaik, disapoint misondastan, miste
k, misbihe
v

on-

ontai, onrap

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Winford James and Valerie Youssef

Table 4.

Productive adjective affixes

Adjective Affix

Words

-abl

e
jabl, nolijabl, riidabl

-iv

aktiv, comesiv

-ish

redish, likrish, swiitish

5.

Inflectional morphology

The languages have very few inflectional morphemes, which may be divided into two groups: 1) those that are only bound forms, and 2) those that function in both bound and free-standing capacities. The first group comprises the imperfective suffix (IMPERFV SUF) -in (which subcategorises as progressive suffix (PROG SUF) and habitual suffix (HAB SUF)); the attributive suffix (ATTRIB SUF) -i (usually on adjectives or nouns denoting colour, fruit, and size); and the adverbial suffix (ADV SUF) -iin. The second group comprises the morphemes se(l)f, ya/ hyee, de/dyee, so/so
, o
n. Table 5 characterises the inflectional suffixes by syntactic category and phrasal syntax. Table 5.

Inflectional suffixes by syntactic category and phrasal syntax

Inflectional Morpheme BASILECT

Syntactic Category

Phrasal Syntax

MESOLECT IMPERFV SUF (PROG SUF, HAB SUF)

VP

-i

ATTRIB SUF

DP, AP

-iin

ADV SUF

VP

-in

so

so


ASSOC SUF

ADVP, DP

sef

self

RECI(PROCAL) SUF

DP, ADVP

o
n

o
n

POSS SUF

DP

ya, de

hyee, dyee

LOC SUF

DP, PP

The following sentences, phrases, or words illustrate the morphemes. (29)

Shi

tiich V

-in PROG SUF

di klaas now.

(30)

Shi

kool V

-in mi evri nait. HAB SUF

The creoles of Trinidad and Tobago: morphology and syntax

(31)

A

griin A

(32)

Shi luk sik A

-i sik ATTRIB SUF A

(33)

Mami gaan V

-iin ADV SUF

(34)

A

den ADV

-sef mi ge maad. RECI SUF

(35)

Hii DP

-se(l)f tel mi. RECI SUF

(36)

Iz

di dokta DP

(37)

A

Kandia –se(l)f tel mi. DP RECI SUF

(38)

Dis DP

-ya LOC SUF

/Dat /DP

-de LOC SUF

(39)

Dem DP

-ya LOC SUF

/ /

Dem D

(40)

Dem bwai DP

(41)

Ova P

(42)

Ten laik

hii DP

(43)

Iz

-o
n. POSS SUF

6.

Non-affixal grammatical morphemes

6.1.

Preverbal markers

-i SUF

/a /

463

staach -i /a big -i. N ATTRIB SUF/ A ATTRIB SUF

/

-i. ATTRIB SUF Mami gaan *iin di ruum.

-self tel mi. RECI SUF

-ya LOC SUF

-de LOC SUF

/Dem bwai -de /DP LOC SUF

-so ASSOC SUF

mai DP

-so kyãã priich tu mii. ASSOC SUF

Verbs (including adjectival ones such as swiit and sik) are preceded by grammatical markers which variously carry aspect, tense, mood, and emphasis meanings, and which may be stressed (or high-toned) or unstressed (or low-toned). Tables 6 and 7 display these markers and their meanings. (The grave accent represents low stress/tone; the acute accent represents high stress/tone.)

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Winford James and Valerie Youssef

Table 6.

Unstressed or low-tone pre-verbal markers in Tobagonian and Trinidadian

Grammatical Category Basilectal Tobagonian Imperfective (aspect)

a

Future Habitual Modal (tense-aspect-mood)

(g)o, àgò

Present Habitual (tense-aspect)

Mesolectal Trinbagonian

(g)o; go
(Trinidadian only) doz (and variants do, oz, s)

Remote Past (Tense)

bin (and variants in, bi, bı, ı, min) di(d)

Past Imperfective (tense-aspect)

bìnà (and variants ina, mìnà)

woz…in

Contrafactual

bìnà (and variants inà, mìnà), bìn(à)gò (and variants in(à)gò, mìn(à)gò)

di(d)...in, wòzgò, wùdà

Modal of Intention

fu, bìn-/mìnfù

tu, wòzgò, wòztù

Table 7.

Stressed or high-tone pre-verbal markers in Tobagonian and Trinidadian

Grammatical Category

Basilectal Tobagonian

Mesolectal Trinbagonian

Past Completive/Perfect (tense-as- don pect)

don

Emphatic

duu

duu

Past Imperfective (tense-aspect) Modal of obligation

yuuz(z)tu (h)áfù, bóngtù

(h)ávtù, bóngtù

It is worth noting that these tables of pre-verbal markers are not complete overviews of the system because of the major role which the zero marker plays in the mix. The role of zero in Creole verb systems has been much debated and the full oppositional subset is discussed further under the section 7 below. 6.2.

(Pre)nominal markers

Nouns are modified by markers which participate in a semantic opposition of specificity vs. non-specificity. In that opposition, only demonstratives are stressed (with H tone). Tables 8 and 9 display the markers.

The creoles of Trinidad and Tobago: morphology and syntax Table 8.

465

Non-specific pre-nominal markers

Grammatical category

Basilectal Tobagonian

Mesolectal (Trinbagonian))

The unmodified bare (count) noun

kyat (i.e., ø)

Same

Quantifier

Som~faiv kyat

Same

Adjective

Priti kyat

Same

Noun

Pusi kyat

Same

Grammatical category

Basilectal Tobagonian

Mesolectal (Trinbagonian)

Non-demonstrative specifiers

(e.g., di, mi)

Same

Demonstrative specifiers

Da…ya, da…de, dem, dem…ya, dem…de

Dis…hyee, da(t)…dyee, dem, dem…hyee, dem… dyee

Singulariser

wãã

Indefinite a

Name

Anjela

Same

Table 9.

6.3.

Specific prenominal markers

Pronouns

In both varieties, the pronouns generally both are opaque for case and participate in an unstressed-stressed opposition. Tables 10 and 11 categorise and list them. Unstressed pronouns can’t stand alone in discourse, that is, by themselves outside a normal sentence (e.g., *Mi! *Shi! *De!), but their stressed lengthened counterparts (Mii! Shii! Dem!) can. Table 10. The basilectal Tobagonian pronoun paradigm Category

1st per. sg. nd

Unstressed Subject Object

Stressed Subject

Object

Disjunctive

mi

mii(so)

mii(so)

mii(so)

mi

2 per. sg.

yu/o

yu/o

yuu(so)

yuu(so)

yuu(so)

3rd per. m sg.

(h)i

am, om

(h)ii(so)

(h)ii(so)

(h)ii(so)

3rd per. f sg.

shi

am, om

shii(so)

shii(so)

shii(so)

i

om, am

rd

3 per. n sg.

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Winford James and Valerie Youssef

Table 10. (continued) The basilectal Tobagonian pronoun paradigm Category

1st per. pl.

Unstressed Subject Object

Stressed Subject

Object

Disjunctive

wi

wii(so), aawi(so)

wii(so), aawi(so)

wii(so), aawi(so)

aayu(so)

aayu/o(so)

aayu/o(so)

dém(so)

dèm(so) dém(so)

dém(so)

wi

2nd per. pl. rd

3 per. pl.

de, dèm

dèm

per. = person; m = masculine; f = feminine; sg. = singular; n = neuter; pl. = plural; the grave accent = low tone; the acute accent = high tone.

As can be seen in the basilectal paradigm, all the categories except the third person singular ones are opaque for case and participate in an unstressed-unstressed opposition; also the third person singular dèm (but not de) is ambivalent for case. In respect of the third person singular ones, there are the forms am/om which are used only as generalised objects (that is, they refer to masculine, feminine, and neuter referents). In addition, the unstressed neuter pronouns have no stressed counterparts. It is only the stressed pronouns that are used disjunctively. Table 11.

The mesolectal Trinbagonian pronoun paradigm

Category

Unstressed Subject Object

Stressed Subject

1st per. sg.

a

mi

ai

mii(so)

mii(so)

2nd per. sg.

yu/o

yu/o

yuu(so)

yuu(so)

yuu(so)

3rd per. m sg.

hi

im

hii(so)

hii(so)

hii(so)

3 per. f sg.

shi

shi,

shii(so)

shii(so)

shii(so)

3rd per. n sg.

i

it

wi

wi

wii(so)

wii(so)

wii(so)

oolyu/o(so)

oolyu/o(so)

oolyu/o(so)

dém(so)

dèm(so) dém(so)

dém(so)

rd

st

1 per. pl. 2nd per. pl. rd

3 per. pl.

de

dèm

Object

Disjunctive

In the mesolectal system, there are two specifications absent from the basilectal system. First, there is no general third person object; rather, each of the three genders has its own object. But of the three, only the third person feminine is opaque for case since the exponent, shi, also functions as subject. Secondly, in the third person plural category the subject is distinguished from the object in not having

The creoles of Trinidad and Tobago: morphology and syntax

467

the coda m; that is, dèm is not a mesolectal subject. And, again, it is only the stressed pronouns that are used disjunctively. Although we have treated these forms as if they are only pronouns, it must be pointed out that they also function as possessive adjectives. 6.4.

Prepositions

Both varieties make use of the English inventory of prepositions, but there are at least six prepositions – five basilectal and one mesolectal – that deserve to be highlighted as they are strictly Creole in phonology or syntax or semantics. They are given in Table 12. Table 12.

Basilectal and mesolectal prepositions

Basilect

Mesolect

English

in

in, on, at, to, into, from in, inside according to on on (top of) like to

a iina ton (plus DP) pan pantap laka

Basilectal pan, pantap, and laka are used exactly like their English counterparts, but not a, iina, or ton. The (unstressed) preposition a is the most semantically economical of the lot, encompassing the spatial meanings of location, source, and goal of various English prepositions, as in (44) below: (44)

a. Hi kom owt [a Delafo
d] (source). ‘He’s come from Delaford.’ b. Hi hit mi [a mi jabo
n] (location). ‘He hit me on the jaw.’ c. Aa, Kiini bwai, yu kom [a wool] (location). ‘Ah, Kini boy, you’ve come into the world.’ d. Hi de [a Shaalotvil] a mek schraif (location). ‘He is in/at Charlotteville stirring up trouble.’ e. Mi a go [a shap] (goal). ‘I am going to the shop.’

Iina, a combination of iin and a, is a stressable version of a (with H tone on iin) and covers only the spatial notion of location. It appears in sentences such as (45) where it allows the translations ‘in’, ‘into’, and ‘in(side)’:

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Winford James and Valerie Youssef

(45)

a. Mi no hav no pati fu put am iina__i. ‘I don’t have any pot to put it in.’ b. Hi daiv iina di riva. ‘He dove into the river.’ c. I de iina di jakit pakit. ‘It’s in(side) the jacket pocket.’

In (45a) in particular, it licenses gapping, and is able to do so because its iin component is stressed in final position, unlike a which is always unstressed, and which cannot occur sentence-finally as a free-standing morpheme (Mi no hav no pati fu put am *a__i). Ton (< turn) is a perspectival preposition that is followed typically by speechcapable DPs, as in (46): (46)

Ton Aava, dat an God fe
s hi no go si. ‘According to Ava, that and God’s face he will not see.’

Mesolectal in functions as a goal preposition, as in: (47)

a. A go
-in in tong. b. Shi go
-in in big skuul now.

However, to express movement to a goal, it is typical to leave out the prepositions a, in, and tu, as in: (48)

A go
-in {tong, San Fanando
, Amerika}.

6.5.

Interrogative/relative words

There are certain words which deserve comment. Tables 13 and 14 distribute them between basilect and mesolect, with Table 13 displaying the interrogative list and Table 14 the relative list. Table 13.

Selected Trinbagonian interrogative words

Basilect

Mesolect

English

wa

wo

what

huu (-person N) (singular)

huu (-person N) (singular)

who

huu-an-huu (plural)

huu

who

wich-wan (singular)

wich-won (singular)

which

wich-paat

wich-paat, we

where

({wa-, we-})mek)

wo + me
k as V

why

The creoles of Trinidad and Tobago: morphology and syntax Table 14.

469

Selected Trinbagonian relative words

Basilect

Mesolect

English

we

we

that, who, which, where

wich-paat

wich-paat

where

({wa-, we-})mek)

why

why

The tables reveal some interesting facts by comparison with analogous concepts in English. There are more interrogative than relative words. The basilect has a plural form (huu-an-huu) for the person interrogative. Both basilect and mesolect have a bi-morphemic word for the singular non-person interrogative: they combine wich with wan/won. The basilect has a bi-morphemic word for the location and reason notions (wich-paat, wa/we mek), while the mesolect has one only for the location notion (wich-paat) but two separate words for the reason notion (wo plus the verb me
k heading a clause). In both basilect and mesolect, there is only one form (we) for relating to person, non-person, and place subjects. The listed words are illustrated below: (49)

{Wa, Wo} yo woont? ‘What do you want?’

(50)

Huu-man yo tookin bowt? ‘What man are you talking about?’

(51)

Huu-an-huu woz in di kaa? ‘Who are the persons that were in the car?’

(52)

Wich-wan yo want? ‘Which do you want?’

(53)

Wich-paat yu put di buk? ‘Where did/have you put the book?’

(54)

(We-)mek yu tel am dat? ‘Why did you tell him/her that?’

(55)

Wo me
k yo tel im dat? ‘Why did you tell him/her that?’

(56)

Da iz di man we fain mi wolet. ‘That is the man who found my wallet.’

(57)

Shi put shi bag on di ting we doz spin rong. ‘She put her bag on the thing that spins around.’

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Winford James and Valerie Youssef

(58)

Da iz di skuul we mi chail doz go
tu. ‘That is the school that my child goes to.’

(59)

Da iz di ple
s wich-paat de keri shi. ‘That is the place where they took her.’

(60)

Da iz di riizn mek mi tel yu. ‘That is the reason why I told you.’

6.6.

Post-subject adverbs

Both varieties have a number of adverbs that fill a syntactic slot just after the subject of a sentence, or just before the main negators no/e, much like the slot that an IP adverb like certainly fills in a language like English. Because of the inflectional poverty of the varieties, we will use the label post-subject adverbs in preference to IP adverbs. Common examples of these adverbs are bolded in the illustrations below: (61)

A taiyad tel im not tu kiip baad kompani. ‘I am fed up telling him not to keep bad company.’

(62)

Hi mosi no a kom age
n. ‘He probably is no longer coming.’

(63)

Hi maad kom tel mii dat? ‘He isn’t crazy enough to come and tell me that!’

(64)

A don e di laik shi. ‘I already don’t like her.’

(65)

Hi maasta ple
ge
mz on di kompyuuta. ‘He’s fond of playing games on the computer.’

(66)

Shi wel kos op shi hozban. ‘She roundly cursed her husband.’

(67)

Yo gud iit mi fuud laas wiik. ‘You ate a lot of my food last week.’

(68)

Da gyal de huu feel shi nice! ‘That girl thinks she is really beautiful!’

(Incidentally, of the adverbs highlighted huu (68) is the only one peculiar to Tobagonian speech.)

The creoles of Trinidad and Tobago: morphology and syntax

6.7.

471

Reportive particles

By reportive particle, we mean a word that introduces reported information in clauses. There are three such particles – basilectal se and mesolectal dat and dathow. Se is used optionally with a translation like ‘that’ after reporting and beliefexpressing verbs like tel and biliiv, as in (69) and (70): (69)

[Hi tel mi] (se) [hi naa kom age
n]. ‘He told me that he wasn’t coming any longer.’

(70)

[Mii no beliiv] (se) [hi ago marrid shi]. ‘I don’t believe he’s going to marry her.’

In these sentences, it is substitutable by dat and dat-how. After other kinds of verb, however, it is obligatory: (71)

[Hi de a hi ruum] se [hi a stodi]. ‘He is in his room ostensibly studying.’

(72)

[Hi gaan ho
m] se [hi a go du hi ho
mwok]. ‘He’s gone home ostensibly to do his homework.’

6.8.

The particles fu, fo, fa

Fu, fo and fa are grammatical items that divide up infinitive, possessive, and interrogative functions amongst themselves. Fu and fa are basilectal, with fu functioning as an infinitive and possessive marker, and fa only as an interrogative marker. Fo has infinitive and interrogative functions and is mesolectal Tobagonian in respect of both, but mesolectal Trinidadian in respect of the interrogative function only, the Trinidadian infinitive marker typically being tu. As a possessive marker, fu- is an emphatic prefix; as a possessive marker, -fa is a suffix; and as interrogative markers, -fa and -fo are discontinuous suffixes. Table 15 captures these facts. Table 15.

Varietal distribution of the particles fu, fo, and fa

Basilect

Mesolect

Function

fu

fo, tu

infinitive possessive

fu -fa

-fo

interrogative

The following sentences illustrate how the particles are used: (73)

Mi waant {fu, fo, *fa} sliip. ‘I want to sleep.’

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Winford James and Valerie Youssef

(74)

Hi kaal mi {fu, fo, *fa} tel mi no bada]. ‘He called me to tell me not to bother….’

(75)

{Fu-mii, *Fo-mii, *Fa-mii} pe
rans an dem] no bina biit. ‘MY parents did not beat (us).’

(76)

{Fu-huu, *Fo-huu, *Fa-huu} pikni dat? ‘WHOSE child is that?’

(77)

We yu du dat {-fa, -fo, *-fu}? ‘Why did you do that?’

(78)

We yu a bada mi {-fa, fo, *fu}? ‘Why are you bothering me?’

(79)

{Huu-fa, *Huu-fo, *Huu-fu} dat? ‘Whose is that?’

6.9.

Existentials

The existentials in the two varieties are displayed in Table 16. Table 16.

Basilectal and mesolectal existentials

Semantic Category

Basilect

Mesolect

English

Location

it ge(t)

it ha(v)

there is/are (even stress on both kinds of words)

Possession

fu ge(t)

tu hav

to have

Existence

Luk…!

Luk…!

Here is/are…, There is/are…! (stress on ‘there’)

Existence

Luku…!

Luk at…!

Expression introducing abundance

Location

fu de

Absence of copula

to be

The following sentences illustrate their use: (80)

{It ge(t), It hav chrii kow iina di yaad. ‘There are three cows in the yard.’

(81)

Ova hyee {get, hav} tumoch bush. ‘There’s too much bush over here.’

(82)

Ova hyee {get, hav}. ‘There is some over here.’

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(83)

Luk shi kom-in. ‘Look! She’s coming.’

(84)

{Luku, Luk at} piipu! ‘What a large crowd of people!’

(85)

Luku wuman! ‘What a large number of women!’

(86)

Luku flowa! ‘What an abundance of flour!’

473

Location it get/hav and possession fu get/hav may or may not be followed by a DP complement; location fu de must be followed by a locative word or phrase (e.g., *Hi de); and existence luk, luku, and luk at must be followed by a DP (e.g., *Luku!; *Luk at!). Luku and luk at, in particular, must be followed by mass nouns or plural count nouns (e.g., Luku wãã jombi!). Luk is the item that must precede singular count nouns (e.g., Luk a jombi!). Luku therefore seems to have a generic suffix in its final -u. 6.10. Preclausal warning particles In both basilect and mesolect, there are at least two forms, main and tike
, that are used before clauses, which must be positive, to alert the hearer to danger. Obviously phonological restructurings of English mind and take care, they are used as in (87-90),where the clause is bracketed: (87)

Main [yu bre
k di glaas]. ‘Be careful not to break the glass.’

(88)

Main *[yu no/e brek di glaas].

(89)

Tike
[yu bre
k di glaas]. ‘Be careful not to break the glass.’

(90)

Tike
*[yu no/e brek di glaas].

7.

The verb system

In the verb system, there are three main types of structure: main verb structure (e.g., Shi kuk di fuud), copula structure (e.g., Shi de a tong), and copula-less structures (e.g., Shi sik). As suggested in our treatment of sentence structure above, the system is one in which main verbs (e.g., kuk), adjectival verbs (e.g., sik), and copulas (e.g., de) are modified by pre-verbal tense, aspect, and mood (TAM) markers (and, in one case, the aspect suffix -ing), with the aspect ones having the greatest

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frequency of usage. These markers are distributed in discourse in relation to their denotation of background time, focus time, and different kinds of mood. Tables 17 and 18 display the basilectal and mesolectal TAM distribution respectively. Table 17. The basilectal TAM distribution in discourse Background time T T-A

Focus time A

A-T

Mood Confac

T

Rem Past Past Impfv

Past Pfv Compl/ Perf

Impfv

Hab

Impfv Fut Fut

bìn

dón

à

gò

àgò

bìnà

∅ dúú

gò

bìnà bìnàgò bìngò

Past

bìnfù

Focus

(h)áfù, bóngtù gò kyã, kù fù

(Rem = Remote; Impfv = Imperfective; Compl = Completive; Perf = Perfect; Pfv = Perfective; Hab = Habitual; Fut = Future; Confac = Contrafactual)

Table 18. The mesolectal TAM distribution in discourse Background time T T-A Rem Past

Past Impfv

Past Hab

dìd wòz

dìd…ìn yúúztù wòz…ìn

Focus time A Past Compl/ Pfv Perf dón

Impfv

-ìn ∅ dúú

T-A

T

Pres Hab

Fut

dòz gò

gò

Mood Confac Past

Focus

(h)ávtù, bóngtù wòzgò wùdà

wòztù gò k(y)ã, kù tù

The markers occur in different sequences in the different types of verb structure. In main-verb and copula-less structures, typical maximal sequences are bìnàgò, dón bìnà, dón dìd…ìn, dón wòz…ìn, bìn háfù, dìd bóngtù, yúúztù, wòzgò, wòztù, wùdà, bìnfù, dòz k(y)ãã, and gò k(y)ãã. There are markers that do not co-occur with any others; they are perfective emphasiser dúú, habituals dòz and yúúztù, and modals k(y)ã and kù. In copula structures, the copulas select pre-verbal particles depending on their (own) semantics. There are three copulas – equative a, locative de, and naming ne
m. Equative a is basilectal and it maximally selects the sequence dón bìn. Locative dè is also basilectal and it selects dón bìnà, dón bìn, bìn háfù, bìn bóngtù, bìngò, bìnàgò and bìnfù. Ne
m is both basilectal and mesolectal. Basilectally, it

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selects dón bìnà, dón bìn, bìnàgò, bìngò, and bìnfù. Mesolectally, it selects dón dì(d), wòzgò, wòztù, dìd (h)ávtù, dìd bóngtù, and wùdà. In a recent analysis of Caribbean Creole markers as they have been variously ascribed different labels, Youssef (2002) synthezises past analyses (e.g., Solomon 1993; Winford 1993) of the oppositional systems of labelling. The paper ascribes a comprehensive perfective label to the zero marker as a key marker in the perfective-imperfective opposition, which label holds across the board in the tense-aspect system and stands against imperfective marking in bin, bina and a (basilectal) and in did, woz + -in and -in in the mesolect. The following sentences, reproduced from mesolectal Tobagonian data in Youssef and James (1999: 609), support this analysis: (91)

Hi hyee wel kot. It luk gud. ‘His hair is well cut. It looks good.’ (Reference time present; focus immediate; state seen as a whole)

(92)

Hi skoo a go
l. ‘He scored a goal.’ (Reference time past; focus immediate; event seen as a whole)

(93)

Yestade
hi tek a 2-liita batl an hi kari it to skuul. ‘Yesterday he takes a 2-litre bottle and he carries it to school.’ (Reference time past; focus immediate; events seen as wholes)

Whatever the most precise tense-aspect label for events/states, perfective marking links them all and covers their different reference times, in addition to the immediate focus of the speaker – that which, from a discourse perspective, defines the foreground role in narrative. This usage of Ø may be ranged in opposition to that represented by, for example, preverbal bin, a marker which affirms both the anteriority of an event to another reference-time event and the background status of that event, as in: (94)

Ting bin chiip. Di moni bin smaal re
li, bot yu kuda mek am do
. An den mi kom an mi get marid. ‘Things were cheap. The money was small, really, but you could have made it though. And then I got married.’

The example discourse above provides the opportunity to consider an interesting narrative structure – kom an + verb. Kom an seems to have the function of introducing an important event (such as a marriage) in a narrative.

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8.

Negation

Basilectally, there is one negator – free-standing no; mesolectally, there are four – free-standing e, do
, din, and the clitic -n. No occurs before main verbs, the copulas de and ne
m (but not the copula a), and all the basilectal pre-verbal markers except don. E occurs before main verbs, the copula ne
m (but not the copula iz), and only the markers (g)o and tu. Do
 occurs only before main verbs. Din occurs only before yuuztu. And -n attaches only to the mesolectal forms doz, di(d), wu(d), and ku(d). Table 19 displays their association with the relevant markers. Table 19. The association of negators with basilectal and mesolect preverbal markers Grammatical Category Basilect

Imperfective (aspect) Past Completive/ Perfect (tense-aspect)

Mesolect

Marker

Negator

a

no (before) -in

NA

no (after)

don

e, do
, din (after)

no (before)

(g)o

e (before)

don

Future Habitual Modal (g)o, ago (tense-aspect-mood) Present Habitual (tense-aspect)

Marker

Negator

doz (and variants -n do, oz, but not z)

Emphatic

duu

NA

duu

Remote Past (tense)

bin (and variants in, bi, bı, ı, min)

no (before)

di(d), woz

Past Imperfective (tense-aspect)

bina (and variants ina, mina)

no (before)

yuuztu

Contrafactual

bina (and variants ina, mina), bin(a)go (and variants in(a)go, min(a)go)

no (before)

wozgo, wuda

-n (after woz) -n (after wu(d))

Modal of Intention

fu, bin-/minfu

no (before)

tu woztu

e (before) -n (after woz)

Modal of Possibility / Ability

kyã

no (before)

ku(d)

ku(d)-n (past meaning)

NA -n din (before)

In the syntax of negation, the markers don, doz, go and k(y)à/k(y)ãã and the absence of negators before the copulas a and iz require special comment. Don is the only marker that is not preceded by a free-standing negator; indeed, all such negators can occur immediately after it. Doz and go are the only markers that are negated by a modal, namely post-posed k(y)ãã, apart from the clitic -n (in the case of doz) and the pre-occurring negators no and e (in the case of go). So that we have

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doz k(y)ãã (which translates as ‘cannot’ but combines the meanings habituality and negative possibility / ability); and we have go k(y)ãã (which translates as ‘cannot’ but combines the meanings future and negative possibility/ability). The pair kyà/kyãã are differentiated by contrastive vowel tone and vowel length, with low tone and shortness denoting possibility / ability and high tone and length denoting negative possibility / ability. Finally, the absence of negators before the copulas a and iz is more accurately expressed as the phonetic disappearance of the copulas in negative sentences, as in {Hi a dakta; Hi iz dokta} versus {Hi no dakta; Hi e dokta}. The copulas seem to be incorporated in whatever negators apply; intuitively, the latter seem to be no and e. Double negation occurs in both basilect and mesolect (e.g., mi no no
notn; a e no
notn ‘I don’t know anything’), as indeed in many varieties of English. But there is an emphatic type of double negation that has hardly been described in the literature, as is illustrated in mesolectal sentences below: (95)

Shi e no
priti. ‘She is NOT pretty.’

(96)

Shi e no
dokta. ‘She is NOT a doctor.’

(97)

Shi e no
laik im; shi jos doz took tu im, da iz ool. ‘She DOESN’T love him; she only talks to him, that’s all.’

As sentences (95-97) show, the normal mesolectal clause negator e (basilectal no functions in the same way too) comes immediately before another negative word (no
) before an adjective (95), a noun (96), and a verb phrase (97). The critical observation is that no
emphasises the proposition in the normal negative phrase (e.g., not being pretty in shi e priti), and it does so by having the long tense vowel o
and interposing itself between the normal negator and the content part of the phrase.

9.

The noun system

The noun system is one in which the bare (i.e., unanalysed) noun is modified by a number of (mostly) grammatical words. The typical linear surface representation is as follows: [determiners] [numerals] [adjectives, nouns] bare noun [plural suffix] [pluraliser] [phrases] A phrase which illustrates this representation is: (98)

[Di] [faiv] [priti] kyat[s] [(an) dem] [we de iina di kowch]

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Some typical phrases are: (99)

Unmodified bare noun (N) (e.g., kyat)

(100) NP (e.g., moda kyat) (101) AP (e.g., hongri daag) (102) NUM(eral)P (e.g. faiv kyat) (103) DP (e.g., di kyat; wãã kyat, dem kyat) (104) PL(ural)P (e.g., di kyat (an) dem) The grammatical (or non-lexical) categories of modifier are illustrated in Table 20. Table 20.

Basilectal and mesolectal grammatical noun modifiers

Modifier

Basilect

Mesolect

di, mi, shi, aayu som Kandia, Akini wãã da…ya / (de), dem…ya / de, dem

di, mi, shi, ool-yu som Kandia, Akini a dis…(hyee), da…(dyee), dem…hyee / dyee, dem

Numeral

tuu, faiv

tuu, faiv

Pluraliser

-dem, -de

Determiner Specifying articles Non-specifying articles Name Singulariser Demonstratives

-(an) dem, de

A word on the unmodified bare noun, determiner phrase, and plural phrase. Just as the main verb (V) is bare or unanalysed, so is the noun. Unmodified, it allows the inference of non-specific reference where both count and mass nouns are concerned. But the count noun in particular encodes non-individuated non-specific reference; it refers to a class of referents, not to specific members of the class. In the determiner phrase, the singulariser and demonstratives deserve further comment. The singulariser, wãã, lacks the generic value of Standard English a(n); it is wholly specific in its denotation, meaning only ‘one member of the class of referents’. Where the demonstratives are concerned, basilectally, discontinuous da…ya/(de) is singular while discontinuous dem…(de/ya) is plural. The mesolectal counterparts are typically dis…(hyee), da(t) (dyee), and dem…(hyee/dyee). The plural phrase is specially interesting because the pluraliser (an) dem is discontinuously tied to pre-nominal specifying articles; no pluralized noun can stand apart from a specifying article or a (specifying) name (e.g., di kyat (an) dem vs *kyat (an) dem; Kandia (an) dem). The pluraliser comes in an emphatic-non-emphatic

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pair, with (an) dem being the emphatic item and de being the non-emphatic one. The former occurs in both subject and object position while the latter is limited to subject position, as in: (105) a. Kandia dè / (an) dém gaan a maakit. b. M’aa go bai Ava *dè / (an) dém. c. Hi stap taak to Ava *dè / (an) dém. The noun system is underlain by a basic semantic opposition between the features specificity and non-specificity, as illustrated in Table 21 below. In this, it may be distinguished from the opposition of definite versus non-definite established for the Standard. Table 21. The semantics of the Tobagonian noun phrase SPECIFICITY

NON-SPECIFICITY

di (faiv) (priti) kyat(s) an dem (a specific group of cats; an dem pluralises kyat; s confirms that it is referents of the same class)

(priti) kyat (reference unspecified)

dem (priti) kyat(s) (an dem) (plural; a specific group of cats; an dem is a reflex retention and provides emphasis)

faiv (priti) kyat (five unspecified cats, i.e., any five cats) som (priti) kyat (unspecified number of cats) Kandia an dem (a specific Candia with unspecified associates)

shi (priti) kyat (a specific cat) wãã (priti) kyat (a specific cat) da (priti) kyat (ya) (a specific cat) da (priti) kyat (de) (a specific cat) dem (priti) kyat (ya) (specific cats) dem (priti) kyat (de) (specific cats) Kandia (a specific person) di Kandia (a specific person) di Kandia an dem (specific persons each named Candia)

10.

Conclusion

In an overview chapter of this nature, it is impossible to either describe all the lexical and morphosyntactic patterns and processes in the varieties being reported on or show the social patterning of lexical and grammatical items. What we have done is to present the essential parts of the lexical and morphosyntactic system,

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identifying in the process signature forms, uses, and processes. We have presented the basilectal system, which sets the Tobagonian community apart from the Trinidadian community, as well as the mesolectal system, which is substantially shared by both communities. The Trinidadian and Tobagonian speech community has its own Standard variety, but the main burden of everyday public interaction is carried by the mesolect, with private interaction conducted typically also in the mesolect in Trinidad but typically in the basilect in Tobago. It is important to note that particular forms in the mesolect are distributed differently both between Tobago and Trinidad and between particular groups of speakers in both islands, depending on factors such as socio-economic background and level of education. But unfortunately, there is very little sociolinguistic work on Tobago and Trinidad, and such work has focused on distributional differences in respect of the verb system. Youssef (2001) is an example of such work, and it found, for instance, that there was a significantly lower usage of does by older rather than younger speakers and, further, that the form does be + -in, which, like basilectal a, links both habitual and continuous functions, was used specifically by younger people who argued, in interview, for a strong Creole identity. Future research needs to focus on the distributional difference of the full range of morphosyntactic forms between Tobago and Trinidad, as well as between different social groups in both islands as the varieties continue to evolve in time. It would improve our understanding of the social development of the peoples who speak them, in particular, and about language development and change, in general.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Allsopp, Richard 1980 How does the creole lexicon expand? In: Valdman and Highfield (eds.), 89– 107. Edwards, Walter 1995 A sociolinguistic exploration of the usage of the aspectual marker don in AAVE in Detroit. Paper presented at the 24th NWAVE conference, University of Pennsylvania, October 1995. 2000 Aspectal don in AAVE and its relation to Guyanese Creole don + V. Paper presented at the 13th Biennial Conference, Society for Caribbean Linguistics, 16–19 August, UWI, Mona, Jamaica. Hancock, Ian 1980 Lexical expansion in Creole languages. In: Valdman and Highfield (eds.), 63–88.

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James, Winford and Valerie Youssef 2002 The Languages of Tobago: Genesis, Structure, and Perspectives. School of Continuing Studies: University of the West Indies, St. Augustine, Trinidad. Solomon, Denis 1993 The Speech of Trinidad: A Reference Grammar. School of Continuing Studies: University of the West Indies, St. Augustine, Trinidad. Valdman, Albert and Arnold Highfield (eds.) 1980 Theoretical Orientations in Creole Studies. New York: Academic Press. Winer, Lise fc Dictionary of the English/Creole of Trinidad and Tobago. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Winford, Donald 1994 Variability in the use of perfect have in Trinidadian English: A problem of categorical and semantic mismatch. Language Variation and Change 5: 141– 187. Youssef, Valerie 1996 Varilingualism: The competence underlying code-mixing in Trinidad and Tobago. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 11: 1–22. 2001 Age-grading in the Anglophone Creole of Tobago. World Englishes 20: 29– 46. 2002 How perfect is perfective marking? An analysis of some terminological problems in the description of some tense-aspect categories in creoles. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 18: 1–24. Youssef, Valerie and Winford James 1999 Grounding via tense-aspect in Tobagonian Creole: Discourse strategies across a creole continuum. Linguistics 37: 597–624.

Surinamese creoles: morphology and syntax* Donald Winford and Bettina Migge

1.

Introduction

The creoles of Suriname diverge to a considerable extent from English, their primary lexifier language, and are therefore often referred to as “radical” creoles. They include Sranan, Aluku or Boni, Kwinti, Matawai, Ndjuka or Okanisi, Pamaka, and Saamaka. Sociohistorical and linguistic evidence suggest that they all have their origins in the early creole varieties that emerged on the plantations of Suriname in the late 17th to early 18th century. Modern Sranan is a direct continuation of this early contact language while the other creoles, also referred to as maroon creoles, split off from it as a result of their founders’ flight from the Surinamese plantations. Sranan is spoken both as a first language and as a lingua franca for inter-group communication throughout the country and in western French Guiana. The other languages used to be spoken only in the interior of the rain forest in socio-politically semi-autonomous communities founded by escaped slaves in the early to mid 18th century. The Aluku, Ndjuka and Pamaka reside in the eastern part of Suriname and western French Guiana along the Marowijne river (Aluku, Ndjuka, Pamaka) and its tributaries, the Tapanahoni river (Ndjuka) and the Lawa river (Aluku). Their community languages are entirely mutually intelligible but differ somewhat in phonology and lexicon. They are best viewed as dialects of a common language that we refer to as the Eastern Maroon Creole (EMarC). Saamaka and Matawai are also highly mutually intelligible. They are spoken in communities with the same name, which are located in the western part of Suriname along the Suriname river (Saamaka) and the Saramaka river (Matawai). The Kwinti reside on the Coppename river. Their language is linguistically intermediate between the two main clusters. With the increase in migration towards the coast, due to socioeconomic considerations, these varieties are today also well represented in the coastal urban centers of Suriname (Paramaribo, Albina, Mongo) and, with the exception of Matawai and Kwinti, in the urban centers of French Guiana (St. Laurent, Kourou, Cayenne, Mana) (see also Smith, other volume). The Saamaka and Ndjuka each number about 50,000 people while the Aluku, Matawai and Pamaka each number roughly 6,000. The Kwinti are the smallest group, they count roughly 500 members. Unless otherwise indicated, the sample sentences come from recordings of natural conversations and formal elicitations carried out by the authors.

Surinamese creoles: morphology and syntax

2.

483

Tense, mood and aspect

Categories of tense, mood and aspect, as well as negation (see section 3.4.), are expressed by invariant preverbal forms. The Surinamese creoles share a common set of TMA categories, though some of the forms that express them vary across the creoles. 2.1.

Tense

Categories of tense include a (relative) Past, expressed by ben (Sranan), be (EMarC), bi (Saamaka), and a Future, expressed by o (< go) (see also Veenstra 1996: 12–14): (1) EMarC Alen be kai. Rain PAST fall ‘It rained.’ (2)

Saamaka

2.2.

Aspect

Mi o I FUT ‘I’ll write a letter.’

sikiifi write

wan a

biifi. letter

Categories of aspect include Imperfective, expressed by (d)e in Sranan and the EMarC, and by ta (< tan ‘stay’) in Saamaka. They mark situations as habitual, progressive or continuous. Completive (Perfect) aspect is expressed by VP-final kaba (< Port. acabar ‘finish’). It indicates that a situation is completed or it marks the result of a process. The unmarked verb conveys perfective aspect, and can be interpreted in various ways, depending on the context. (3)

Saamaka EmarC

a. b.

Mi tá wáka. Mi e waka. I IMPFV walk ‘I’m walking.’ or ‘I usually walk.’

(4)

EMarC

A nyan kaba. she eat COMPL ‘She’s already eaten.’

(5)

Sranan

A kownu dede. DET (sg) king die ‘The king has died.’

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2.3.

Modality

The Surinamese creoles also have a rich system of modality, covering a range of meanings associated with types of possibility (i.e., the senses of ‘can’) and necessity (i.e., the senses of ‘must’). 2.3.1. Possibility Deontic senses of possibility include learned ability, physical ability, permission and general ability (ability constrained by social or moral law). Learned ability is expressed by the form sabi ‘know’ (< Portuguese sabir ‘know’) in all the creoles. (6)

Sranan

A pikin sabi DET (sg) child know ‘The child can swim well.’

swen swim

bun. good

There are some significant differences among the creoles in the way they express the other types of root possibility. Physical ability, permission and general ability are all expressed by the modal sa (< Dutch zal ‘will’) in the EMarC and Saamaka. (7)

Pamaka

A taanga. A sa opo wan ondo He strong he MOD lift one hundred ‘He’s strong. He can lift a hundred kilos.’

kilo. kilo

(8)

Saamaka

Aaii, di mii sa fika duumi ku mi. Yes DET (sg) child MOD remain sleep with me ‘The boy can stay here tonight.’

By contrast, Sranan uses kan or man for (positive) physical ability, kan or mag (< Dutch) for permission, and kan for general ability. (9)

Sranan

a.

b.

A pikin kan/man opo DET (sg) child can/can lift ‘The child can lift a hundred kilos.’ A boi mag tan dya DET (sg) boy may stay here ‘The boy can stay here tonight.’

ondro kilo. hundred kilo tide neti. today night

Under negation, all types of ability (except learned ability) are expressed by sa in Saamaka, whereas the EMarC uses man or poi (Ndjuka). (10)

Saamaka

Di mujee d woyo booko. Á sa si. DET (sg) woman there eye break NEG can see ‘That woman is blind. She cannot see.’

(11)

Pamaka

A boi á man tan ya tide neti. DET (sg) boy NEG can stay here today night ‘The boy cannot stay here tonight.’

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Sranan never uses sa to express any kind of negative ability, choosing kan or mag for permission, and kan or man for the other types. All of the creoles use sa to express epistemic senses of possibility, that is, the sense of ‘maybe’ or ‘perhaps’ (though sa seems to be more restricted in this function in Sranan). Other strategies include the use of adverbials like kande ‘perhaps’, or expressions such as A kan de (taki) ‘it can be (the case) that’. (12)

Sranan

Jan sa de na oso nownow. John MOD be LOC house now ‘John may be at home now.’

(13)

Pamaka

Kande den pikin e siibi perhaps DET (pl) child IMPFV sleep ‘The children may be asleep now.’

nounou. now

2.3.2. Necessity Meanings associated with necessity are expressed by musu (fu) or by the reduced form mu (< musu), which express weaker or stronger obligation. (14)

Sranan

Wan pikin musu arki en bigi sma alaten. a child must listen its big people always ‘A child must always obey its parents.’

(15)

Pamaka

I mu kiibi a moni fi you must keep DET (sg) money for ‘You should save your money.’

i. you

The same forms are used to express epistemic necessity, that is the sense of ‘It must be the case that’, based on the speaker’s inference. Alternatively, the expression A musu de (taki) ‘It must be the case that’ can be used. 2.3.3. Need and desire Finally, the senses of need and desire are conveyed by the expression (abi) fanoudu (fu) ‘have need of’ and the main verb wani ‘want’ respectively. (16)

Sranan

A pikin abi furu DET (sg) child have full ‘The child needs a lot of love.’

2.4.

Auxiliary ordering

The usual ordering of auxiliaries is as follows: TENSE > MODALITY > ASPECT

lobi love

fanoudu. need

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This is illustrated in the following example from Sranan: (17)

Sranan

Jan ben sa e John PAST MOD IMPFV ‘John would have been sleeping.’

sribi. sleep

However, the canonical ordering shown above is by no means the only one found. In Sranan, for example, the Imperfective marker can precede the modality marker. (18)

Sranan

A

ben

3.

Basic clause structure

e

musu e

taki nanga unu. (elicited) he PAST IMPFV must IMPFV talk with us ‘He usually had to be talking with us.’

Like all languages, the Surinamese creoles have three basic sentence types, declaratives, yes/no interrogatives and imperatives. All of these have SVO ordering, with interrogatives employing rising intonation as distinct from the other two types, which have falling intonation. 3.1.

Declarative sentences

Verbs may be intransitive or transitive, the latter being divided into various subclasses depending on the number of arguments they can take. Intransitive verbs include general movement verbs such as go ‘go’, ko(n) ‘come’, kai ‘fall’, lon ‘run’, waka ‘walk’, etc. The subclasses of transitive verbs include those that take a compulsory object, those whose object is optional, and those that require both a direct and an indirect object. (19)

EMarC

L. puu a L. pull DET (sg) ‘L. removed the fish.’

(20)

EMarC

Mi e wasi. I IMPFV wash ‘I am washing (myself).’

kumalu. type of fish

In sentences with di-transitive verbs the direct object precedes the indirect one. (21)

EMarC

Den mu gi mi wan they MOD give me one ‘They have to give me a piece of land.’

pisi piece

doti. land

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Prepositional phrases and adverbs generally follow the verb or its object. Note that the maroon creoles have a special class of adverbs, so-called ideophones, which specify more closely the meanings of verbs. (22)

EMarC

A go na a he go LOC DET ‘He went to the savannah.’

sabana. savannah

(23)

Saamaka A bi djombo viiin te a wata djuubu. He PAST jump QUICKLY till LOC water SPLASH ‘He jumped quickly, splash! in the water.’ (Bakker, Smith and Veenstra 1995: 174)

Other semantic roles are introduced by so-called serial verbs (see section 6.2.). Many verbs are ambi-transitive, that is, they can be used both transitively and intransitively. (24)

Sranan

a.

A batra broko. DET (sg) bottle break ‘The bottle broke.’

(Winford 1997: 265)

b. A pikin broko a DET (sg) child break DET (sg) ‘The child broke the bottle.’ 3.2.

batra bottle

Yes/no questions

The Surinamese creoles also have certain variations of yes–no questions, such as alternative (either–or) questions, and tag questions. (25)

Sranan

Oh, Oh

you you

e meki bestelling, o yu e IMPFV make orders or you IMPFV

meki gewoon fu yu oso? make only for your house? ‘Oh, do you take orders or do you make [cakes] only for yourself?’ (Winford 2000a: 426) (26)

EMarC

Da a te a bilo u komoto? Then FOC till LOC down-river you (pl) leave ‘So you come (all the way) from the coastal area?’

In tag questions, Sranan and modern varieties of maroon varieties use the Dutch particle tog, while EMarC uses no. (27)

Sranan a. Oh, ma dan a ben kan kon taki now, tog? Oh, but then he PAST can come talk now, right? ‘Oh, but then he can come and chat now, right?’

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EMarC b. Ma a gi i a moni, no? But he give you DET (sg) money right ‘But he gave you the money, right?’ 3.3.

Imperative sentences

Imperatives are the only sentences that do not require an overt singular subject, but when addressed to several people, they require the plural pronoun u or unu. (28)

EMarC a.

b.

Tapu mofu! close mouth ‘Shut up!’ U kon you (pl) come ‘Come eat!’

njan eat

nou! now

Hortatives are introduced by meki ‘make’, or kon ‘come’. (29)

Sranan

Meki/kon unu libi a tori dati yere. make/come we leave DET (sg) story DEM hear ‘Let’s forget that story, okay?’

3.4.

Clause negation

Negative sentences in the creoles are mere variants of the basic sentence types sketched earlier. Each of these may be negated in the same way, by placing the negator, no in Sranan and ná/á(n) (31) in the EMarC/Saamaka, immediately before the first element of the VP, no matter how many TMA particles appear before the verb. (30)

Sranan Yu

no

ben

man

taki leki fa

den yungu sma

now.

You NEG PAST MOD talk like how DET young person now (pl)

‘You couldn’t talk [to an adult] the way young people [do] now.’ The creoles also employ sentence level negators. In the EMarC, these include the items èéé, nono ‘no’, noiti ‘never’ and kwetikweti ‘not at all’. They either precede or follow a sentence or they occur in isolation as responses to contributions of another speaker. (31)

Pamaka

a. T: U ná a wan sani fu We NEG have a thing for ‘We do not have anything to say.’ P: Kwetikweti ‘not at all’

taki. say

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A taki “eée disi án bun gaaman” He say no this NEG good king ‘He said “no king, this isn’t good”.’

Finally, negative structures are characterized by negative concord (multiple negation). (32)

Sranan

Noyti mi no sii en dya Never I NEG see him here ‘I’ve never seen him here at Coronie.’

a Coronie. LOC Coronie

There are various other strategies of negation in these creoles, involving inherently negative quantifiers (ná/no wan sani ‘nothing’, ná/no wan sama/sma ‘nobody’ etc.), adverbs (ná/no wan peesi/presi ‘nowhere’) and other polarity items, which are beyond the scope of this summary. 3.5.

Copular-type sentences

The Surinamese creoles, like other New World Creoles, have a distinctive set of copular–type constructions (so called because they require a copula in the lexifiers). They employ the copula na/da for present time nominal predication, and de for locative/existential constructions, adverbial expressions and for nominal predication under other TMA specifications. They use no copula at all in attributive (adjectival) predicate constructions, in which the predicative property items behave like intransitive verbs, being directly preceded by TMA markers. (33)

Sranan

a. Sranan liba na wan bun bradi liba. Suriname river COP a good broad river ‘The Suriname river is a really broad river.’ b. A watra ben faya. DET (sg) water PAST hot ‘The water was hot.’ c. Den pikin musu de ini a oso. DET (sg) child must COP in the house ‘The children must be in the house’ d. Gado de. ‘God exists.’

3.5.1. Equative copular predication The syntactic behavior of equative copula na suggests that it is not (fully) verbal. Unlike verbs, it precedes the negator and past tense marker. (34)

EMarC

En na be she COP PAST ‘She was the boss.’

basi. boss

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(N)a is replaced by de after any TMA marker and optionally also in constructions with past time reference or negative polarity. (35)

Sranan

Mi I

prakseri think

a boi DET (sg) boy

disi nanga a DEM with DET (sg)

man dati musu de brada. man DEM must COP brother ‘I think this boy and that man must be brothers.’ Saamaka makes a distinction between identificational and attributive (class inclusive) equative structures, employing da and de respectively. (36)

Saamaka a. Me da/*d Gadu. I COP God ‘I am God.’ b. Me d wã kabit I COP DET captain ‘I’m a captain.’

(N)a cannot appear in final position. In cases of movement such as wh-questions and predicate clefting the copula de is used. In sentences with future time reference it may also be replaced by a verb meaning ‘turn’ or ‘(be)come’. (37)

Sranan

Na leriman a FOC teacher DET(sg) ‘A teacher is what the man is.’

man man

de. COP

(38)

EMarC

A sa/o toon fetiman. He MOD/FUT become fighter ‘He may/will become a troublemaker.’

Equative constructions probably arose from topic-comment structures in which da/na functioned as a resumptive pronoun. The latter differ from regular equative constructions in having a pause or comma intonation after the topic NP. (39)

Sranan

Hertoch, na koniman. Hertoch, PRE intelligent-man ‘Hertoch is an intelligent man.’

3.5.2. Locative/existential copular constructions The copula de may be freely preceded by TMA markers and the negator. (40)

Sranan

Den pikin ben/sa/o de na skoro. DET (pl) child PAST/MOD/FUT COP LOC school. ‘The children were/may/will be at school.’

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It is generally agreed that the source of copula de is adverbial de < there, as used in earlier existential and locative constructions. (41)

Sranan

Masra, soopie de. Master, drink there ‘Master, here is your drink.’ (Van Dyk 1765, in Arends and Perl 1995: 170)

3.5.3. Attributive (adjectival-like) predication There has been a great deal of debate as to whether the property items (corresponding to English adjectives) that appear in creole copular-like structures are adjectives. (42)

Sranan

A liba DET (sg) river ‘The river is wide.’

bradi broad

The property items in question also function as modifiers of nouns, and their adjectival status in this function is not under dispute. In their use as predicators, however, there is good evidence that such items are in fact verbal in the Surinamese creoles (Alleyne 1987; Winford 1997; Migge 2000). First, we find the following parallels between the syntactic behavior of such predicates and that of intransitive verbs: – – – –

They are immediately preceded by TMA markers. They undergo predicate cleft, leaving a copy in situ. Adverbial modifiers typically follow them. They appear in comparative serial verb constructions.

The following Sranan examples from Winford (1997: 257-259) illustrate: (43)

Sranan

a. A pikin e bigi. DET (sg) child IMPFV big ‘The child is getting big.’ b. Na langa a pikin langa. FOC long DET(sg) child long ‘The child is really tall.’ c. A watra faya tumsi. DET (sg) water hot too-much ‘The water is too hot.’ d. A pikin bigi pasa yu. DET (sg) child big pass you ‘The child is bigger than you’.

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Most property items also function as transitive verbs in the Surinamese creoles, similarly to ambi-transitive verbs like broko/booko ‘break’ and priti/piiti ‘split’. (44)

Sranan

Sidon tumsi e fatu sit too-much IMPFV fat ‘Sitting too much fattens you.’

4.

Variations on basic clause structure

4.1.

Passive constructions

y. you

Passive constructions do not display characteristics associated with the analytic passives found in English. In particular, they lack a “be” auxiliary, morphological marking on the verb, and an agentive prepositional phrase. (45)

Sranan Kande Perhaps

den

suma

disi

ben

kweki tra

DET (pl)

person

DEM

PAST

raise

fasi

other fashion

‘Perhaps these people were raised differently.’ (Winford 2000b: 95) (46)

EmarC

Sopi ná e diingi a Rum NEG IMPFV drink LOC ‘Rum is not consumed in the boat!’

ini in

boto! boat

There are greater restrictions on the class of verbs that can undergo passivization, by comparison with English. For instance, stative verbs such as love, know, believe etc., and perception verbs like see, hear, etc., generally resist passivization in these creoles, except in certain discourse contexts. In general, activity verbs tend to passivize more readily. Passives involving verbs with animate subjects (e.g. eat) tend to be avoided in favor of impersonal constructions, in order to avoid ambiguity (see Winford 1988 for further discussion). 4.2.

Left-dislocation, topicalization and focus

In addition to passives, there are two other types of construction in which constituents are moved to sentence-initial position. The first type includes cases of left-dislocation and topicalization, both of which involve the fronting of an NP followed by some comment on it. The distinction between the two lies in the fact that a resumptive pronoun (or sometimes a copy of the moved NP) appears in left-dislocations but not in topicalizations. The second type includes cleft constructions.

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4.2.1. Left-dislocation and topicalization The following Sranan example illustrates left-dislocation. (47)

Sranan

Den siki DET (pl) sick

di de now REL COP now

a fosten DET (sg) former-time

den no ben de. they NEG PAST COP ‘The diseases that there are nowadays weren’t around long ago.’ (Winford 2000b: 72, 93) Topicalization is illustrated in the following: (48)

Sranan

Oh, wan kronto srefi oom N. no man kapu. oh, one cocnut self uncle N. NEG can chop ‘Oh, even a coconut Uncle N. can’t cut?’

In the EMarC, topics are frequently introduced/marked by dati. (49)

EmarC

Mi dati án de a I TOP NEG COP LOC ‘As for me, I am not part of it.’

ini. inside

4.2.2. Focus in cleft constructions Cleft constructions are very similar to topicalizations, except that the former introduce the focused element with a focus marker. The latter is identical in shape to the equative copula in all the Surinamese creoles except Samaaka, which employs the postposed focus marker w retained from Fongbe. Two distinct types of focus are involved in these constructions – presentational or information focus and identificational or contrastive focus. Presentational focus constructions usually present some new topic, and usually involve the fronting of an NP. (50)

Sranan

wan

piki

pikin boi e

FOC ART

A

little

little

boy

moksi smenti drape.

IMPFV mix

cement there

‘It’s a little boy that mixes cement there.’ In identificational or information focus, the fronted element may be any major constituent of the sentence, including NPs, PPs, and adverbs. The function of such constructions is to identify some participant, entity, etc. that is presumed to be unknown to the hearer, as the actual one involved in the situation described. (51)

EMarC

Na nounou den e njan fu mamanten FOC now they IMPFV eat for morning ‘It’s NOW that they eat for morning, i.e. breakfast.’

oo. EM

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(52)

Saamaka Di mujee w mi bi bel, naa di womi. DET (sg) woman FOC I PAST phone NEG the man ‘It was the WOMAN I phoned, not the man.’ (Smith 1996: 118)

4.2.3. Predicate clefting Closely related to the contrastive focus constructions is so-called predicate clefting, in which verbs and predicative property items can undergo fronting. In such cases, however, a copy of the fronted element remains in situ. (53)

EMarC

Na booko a booko FOC break he break ‘He BROKE my car.’

a DET (sg)

wagi car

fu for

mi. me

When NP predicates are fronted, a copula appears in the place of the fronted NP. (54)

Sranan

a.

b.

4.3.

Na leriman Jan FOC teacher Jan ‘John’s a TEACHER.’ *Na leriman Jan

de. COP leriman.

Wh-questions

Information (wh-) questions do not allow auxiliary inversion. Moreover, they employ a range of wh-expressions that are quite different from those in English, as shown in Table 1. Table 1. Wh-forms in the Surinamese creoles Gloss

Sranan

EMarC

Saamaka

Early Sranan

‘who’

suma

sama

amb

o suma (< somebody

‘what’

san

san

andi

o sani ( ADJ + N Examples (97) and (98) are from a Tasmanian conversation and a Melbourne auction call, respectively. (97)

Chas: By jeez, [it was a] hell of a bloody performance.

(98)

Auctioneer: ooh [It’s a] not very impressive crowd today Laurie

(99)

a. [He’s the] Best hoop [jockey] in the country, the old Darb. (They’re a Weird Mob, 72) b. [He’s a] Shrewd ‘ead the old Cooky. (They’re a Weird Mob, 72) c. [Is he a] Friend of yours? (They’re a Weird Mob, 56) d. [It’s a] Wonder the stewards didn’t ‘ave ‘im up. (They’re a Weird Mob, 72) d. [You’re a] Funny bugger, aren’t yer? (They’re a Weird Mob, 65)

Australian Vernacular English: some grammatical characteristics

There + be ellipsis before a negative: There + be -TENSE + NEG + N + (LOC)

=>

639

NEG + N + (LOC)

Examples (100−102) are from Tasmania: (100) Chas: I went up to the old road y’ know ‘nd [there was] no bugger home (101) Harv: ‘nd one of them [the police] charged straight through…into the parlour, y’ know and – [there was] no one there. (102) Harv: You left ‘im for FRAzer, wi- with PLEAsure. Chas: Yes. Harv: [There was] Not eNOUGH of ‘im. as…as ellipsis: SUBJ.PRO + be-TENSE + as + ADJ + N + as + S

=>

(as) ADJ + N + as + S

Comparative constructions like X is as quiet as a mouse and X is as straight as you’ll ever get it, can be reduced by (a) omitting the subject (always a definite NP) and the verb, or, (b) by omitting these plus the first as. (103) a. [He’s as] Good as anybody you’d get. (Sydney: They’re a Weird Mob, 50) b. [She was as] Fast as any horse over a mile. (Tasmania: Ken) subject + verb ellipsis before preposition: SUBJ + V + PP => PP A prepositional phrase is sometimes used sentence-initially without a supporting subject or verb. Although most such phrases occur as part of imperative constructions, as in (103), it we also find declaratives of this form, as in (104). (104) Harv: Off with you in the bar, Rev! In the bar. Quick.” I said, “In the bar!” (105) Chas:…and the old horse got a bit sick of it. Backwards and bloody forwards all the time. The varieties and uses of ellipses in conversational and narrative speech have not been extensively studied. Systematic use of clause-initial elisions is a characteristic of certain other spoken genres of English, such as play-by-play sporting commentaries and auction-calling (Kuiper 1996). There such elisions have a dual function, contributing to economy of speech and heightening dramatic effect. 9.

Conclusion

AusVE is arguably an endangered language. It is true that the absolute number of AusVE speakers has risen over the past century as the Australian population

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has increased from about 3.7 million to 20 million. However, AusVE speakers make up a diminishing proportion of the total population, as more people stay at school longer and move into white collar jobs where non-standard speech styles are marginalised. All the indications are that upwardly mobile Australians adopt StAusColE as their public, mainstream style. Will AusVE fade away completely in the next generation or two, or survive only in a few remote corners of the community? AusVE is bound to change, bound to lose a few of its distinctive elements and to add others. But it is likely to remain strong on its home ground. This home ground is in those places where people, especially men, gather to do manual work, to play sports or to socialise with their mates. In these contexts AusVE has much covert prestige, even among men who by occupation and income rank as decidedly middle class. Even its more hackneyed clichés and formulae encompass values that are deep-rooted in Australian society, such as giving everyone ‘a fair go’ (roughly, an equal opportunity) and those that Wierzbicka (1991: 3, 165−182) labels “mateship”, “masculine toughness”, “antiverbosity” and “antisentimentality”, disrespect for authority, a dislike of “whingers” (constant complainers), “bludgers” (those who sponge on mates) and “dobbers” (those who betray a mate by reporting his wrongdoing to authority) and an enjoyment of “chiacking” (rough teasing, giving cheek), “shouting” (buying rounds of drinks for friends and even for the house) and “yarning” (unhurried, relaxed conversation). And the best AusVE speech has a marvellous economy of expression, lively imagery and droll humour and an earthiness that more standard speech seldom matches. Be that as it may, AusVE is a variety of English whose grammar and discourse conventions remain little-studied. There is room for systematic research on many individual variables that have so been only casually investigated, on how variants cluster, and on women’s use of AusVE variants, and on differences between age groups and across regions. *

I am indebted to Kate Burridge for extensive and perceptive comments on a draft, to Bernd Kortmann, Pam Peters and Jane Simpson for valuable suggestions, and to my Tasmanian relatives for providing wonderful conversation on which I have drawn heavily. For preliminary analysis of several variables in this data I am indebted to students in graduate courses I taught at the University Auckland in the late 1980s: Dennis Brown, Mercedes Maroto-Camino, Britta Christiansen, Jonathan Lane and Rosalind West.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM.

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Campion, Sarah 1941 Mo Burdekin. London: Peter Davies. 1942 Bonanza. London: Peter Davies. Collins, Peter 1989 Sociolinguistics in Australia: a survey. In: Collins and Blair (eds.), 3−20. Culotta, Nino [John O’Grady] 1957 They’re a Weird Mob. Birkenhead, Auckland: Reed Books. Republished by Humour Books. Dennis, Clarence James 1950 Selected Poetry of C.J. Dennis. Sydney: Angus and Robertson. Eisikovits, Edina 1981 Inner-Sydney English: an investigation of grammatical variation in adolescent speech. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Sydney. 1987 Variation in the lexical verb in Inner-Sydney English. Australian Journal of Linguistics 7: 1−24. 1989a Variation in the perfective in Inner-Sydney English. Australian Journal of Linguistics 9: 3−20. 1989b Girl-talk/boy-talk: sex differences in adolescent speech. In: Collins and Blair (eds.), 35−64. Engels, Dulcie and Eve Ritz 2000 The use of the present perfect in Australian English. Australian Journal of Linguistics 20: 119−140. Harris, Elisabeth 1992 ‘Auction this day’. Ph.D. dissertation, Department of Linguistics, La Trobe University, Melbourne. Horvath, Barbara 1985 Variation in Australian English. The Sociolects of Sydney. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kuiper, Koenraad 1996 Smooth Talkers. The Linguistic Performance of Auctioneers and Sportscasters. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Mathiot, Madeleine and Marjorie Roberts 1978 Sex roles as revealed through referential gender in American English. In: Madeleine Mathiot (ed.), Ethnolinguistics: Boas, Sapir and Whorf Revisited, 1−47. The Hague: Mouton. Pawley, Andrew 2002 Using he and she for inanimate objects in English: questions of grammar and world view. In: Nick Enfield (ed.), Ethnosyntax: Explorations in Language and Culture, 110−137. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ramson, William S. 1988 Australian National Dictionary. Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Rudd, Steele 1954 On Our Selection and On Our New Selection. Sydney: Angus and Robertson. Siemund, Peter 2002 Animate pronouns for inanimate objects: pronominal gender in English regional varieties. In: Dieter Kastovsky, Gunther Kaltenbröck and Susanne Reichl (eds.), Anglistentag 2001 Wien – Proceedings, 19–34. Trier: Wissenschaftlicher Verlag.

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forthcoming Pronominal Gender in English: A Study of English Varieties from a CrossLinguistic Perspective. London: Routledge. Shnukal, Anna 1978 A sociolinguistic study of Australian English. Phonological and syntactic variation in Cessnock, New South Wales. Ph.D. dissertation, Georgetown University, Washington D.C. 1982 You’re getting’ somethink for nothing: two phonological variables in Australian English. Australian Journal of Linguistics 2: 197−212. 1989 Variable relative pronoun absence in Australian English. In: Collins and Blair (eds.), 70−77. Wagner, Susanne 2005 Pronominal gender in varieties of English. In: Kortmann, Herrmann, Pietsch and Wagner. Ward, Russel 1958 The Australian Legend. Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Wierzbicka, Anna 1991 Cross-Cultural Pragmatics. The Semantics of Human Interaction. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. 2002 Sexism in grammar: the semantics of gender in Australian English. Anthropological Linguistics 44: 143−177. Wyld, Henry C. 1953 A History of Modern Colloquial English. 3rd edition. Oxford: Blackwell.

Hypocoristics in Australian English* Jane Simpson

1.

Introduction

A characteristic of English is the existence of alternative forms of words or names (mozzie, mosquito; Mountie, Mountford [surname]), which share part of the same form, have the same denotation, but have different connotations and different levels of formality. The use of such alternative forms is widespread in Australia: Aren’t we reaching the inane, when we Australians start accepting beddie, cardie (cardigan), Chrissie pressie, ciggie, habbie (haberdashery), leckie (lecture), prossie (prostitute), sandie (sandwich), tabbie (tablet), weepie, and yewie (U-turn)? Of course, these and other habits are not restricted to Australia, but the increase in their popularity here is phenomenal. (Gunn 1972: 60)

While Australian English does employ similar forms in babytalk, these forms are used by adults in everyday speech and writing. They are mentioned in popular works on Australian English (Keesing 1982), and many examples are to be found in word-lists of Australian English. They are also common in New Zealand. Alternative forms of words are often given labels based on meaning such as “hypocoristic” or “diminutive”, or labels according to form, such as “abbreviation”, “clipping”, “shortening”. The latter are inadequate because alternative forms of words with similar connotations may also be created by adding endings to monosyllabic words. Thus connie/conductor (shortening plus suffixation) and blockie ‘person who has a farm/orchard on a block’ (suffixation), and dieso/diesel mechanic (shortening plus suffixation) and birdo/bird-watcher (suffixation) all provide an informal way of talking about a person’s occupation and do not seem to differ in connotation, regardless of whether shortening or suffixation is used. Likewise gifty/gift (suffixation) and prezzie/present (shortening plus suffixation) do not differ in connotation. There also seems no difference in connotation between these methods of forming hypocoristics, and forming hypocoristics by shortening words which naturally end in a sound like one of the suffixes. Dermo/dermatitis (shortening plus suffix), and gastro/gastro-enteritis (shortening) do not differ in connotation. In this paper I propose that shortening, shortening plus suffix, and suffixation can all be seen as deriving words by matching forms to templates. I call words derived in this way hypocoristics for want of a better label. The data derives from 1740 hypocoristics collected by David Nash and me from Australian speakers and

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written sources, other authors’ works (Dabke 1976; Dermody 1980; Wierzbicka 1984; Taylor 1992; McAndrew 1992), talk-back radio, and our observations over the last sixteen years. Most of the collection is incorporated into a dictionary (Sussex forthcoming). Babytalk (Mühlhäusler 1983) and personal names (Poynton 1984; Taylor 1992) will not be discussed. I consider first the phonological and morphological properties of hypocoristic formation, and then comment briefly on the uses and meanings of hypocoristics.

2.

Templates for hypocoristic formation

To capture the similarity in meaning between the three ways of creating alternative names (shortening, shortening plus suffixation, and suffixation), we can adopt the proposal of Weeda (1992), building on work by John McCarthy and Alan Prince, that such relations are best generalised as the aligning of the original form with a “template”. The meaning can then be associated with the template, thus explaining the similarity in meaning of the forms created by shortening and those created by suffixation. Thus connie is formed by aligning the three-syllable form conductor with a two-syllable template, the second syllable of which ends in /i/. Blockie is formed by aligning the one-syllable form block with the same two-syllable template. (a) reduction to the first syllable (or part thereof) and adding an ending: σ Δ con | ductor

σ | i

→ connie

(b) adding one of the endings to a monosyllabic word: σ σ Δ | block | ?farmer? i

→ blockie

If the first two syllables of a word happen to match the template, then there is shortening without suffixation (the final vowel may change form due to being stressed). (c) keeping the first two syllables of a word whose second syllable matches one of the endings: σ σ Δ | card

i gan → [´]

cardie [i:]

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There is also a monosyllabic template for shortening. (d) reduction to the first syllable (or part thereof): σ ∆ ump | ire → ump These templates accommodate more than just alternative forms of words, they also allow derivation of new words which are not alternatives to the base. Australians may refer to an alcoholic as an alko, alkie, wino, plonko, dipso, or a goomie if they drink methylated spirits. Alko/alkie are formed by aligning the four-syllable source alcoholic with a two-syllable template, the second syllable of which ends in /i/ or /o/, and dipso has a similar origin from dipsomaniac. But there is no obvious source meaning ‘alcoholic’ involving the word wine or plonk (alcohol), or goom (methylated spirits). While alcoholic and alko share their denotation, wino, plonko and goomie do not have the same denotation as the words from which they are derived. Thus the main strategies for forming hypocoristic words (proper names or common nouns) in Australian English involve the creation of one or two-syllable words which fit certain templates. These can be categorised into nine classes, which include seven of Taylor’s (1992) eight morpho-phonological classes of alternative names for first names and surnames. (I exclude the extensions used in babytalk and lover’s talk: Suzykins, Mikeypoodles, Brendy Poos [Mühlhäusler 1983; Poynton 1984], as well as the jocular -aroo in the Soccaroos, a soccer team). Seven of the eight classes also apply to alternative words for common nouns. I list these below in order of commonness in our data-set, adding two smaller classes. Taylor’s eighth class consists of renditions of names including foreign name particles, but his examples can all be subsumed under existing templates: Deek/(Robert) Di Castella fits the monosyllabic template; Hacca/(Robert) Holmes à Court, fits the syllable plus /a/ template, via the acronym, and has the added pun; the Von/(Norman) Von Nida fits the “the” pattern. The forms in “the” are restricted to proper names (including place names), and are discussed in Simpson (2001). The forms in /s/ and two syllables are also mostly restricted to proper names. Table 1.

Major templates for forming hypocoristic words in Australian English

Template

Number of Percentage forms in data

Hypocoristic Base form

/i/

syllable plus /i(s)/ (Taylor’s class 2)

824

47%

coldie gladdie

a cold beer gladiolus

/o/

syllable plus /o/ (Taylor’s class 4)

333

19%

prawno journo

prawn seller journalist

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Table 1. (continued)

Major templates for forming hypocoristic words in Australian English

Template 1 syl one syllable (Taylor’s class 1) /a/*

the

syllable plus /(z)a/ ([]) (Taylor’s class 3)

Number of Percentage forms in data

Hypocoristic Base form

200

pav

145

11% 8%

boozer ekka Mazza

“the” followed by one 125 or two syllables (Taylor’s class 6)

7%

The Don The Weal The Brindies

pavlova (meringue pudding) pub (from ‘booze’ alcohol) ecstasy tablet Marian Donald Bradman Camooweal The Brindabella Mountains

/as/

syllable plus /as/ ([z]) (Taylor’s class 5)

48

3%

chocker(s) Tuggers

chock-full Tuggeranong (Canberra suburb)

/s/

syllable plus /s/ (Taylor’s class 5)

34

2%

scrotes Jules

scrotum Julie, Julia

2 syl two syllables

17

1%

Acr

14

1%

chrysanth Mullum E KI

chrysanthemum Mullumbimby ecstasy tablet Kangaroo Island

acronyms (Taylor’s class 7) SUBTOTAL

1740

* I use /a/ to refer to the ending usually spelled , which is pronounced as a mid central vowel in Australian English, or as a syllabic /r/ in Irish or American English.

3.

Phonological and morphological properties

The major phonological problems in forming English hypocoristics are discussed in Weeda (1992), and for Australian English in Simpson (2001). They arise in reanalysis of morpheme boundaries, and in determining the number and size of the syllables to be kept in polysyllabic reductions. Obvious morpheme boundaries are usually respected so that words are broken up at the putative morpheme boundary: towie/towtruck driver, rather than *towtie. Rare exceptions are strawbs/strawberries. Forms like reno/renovation contain old morpheme boundaries (compare innovation) as do composite names: Lapa/La Perouse (place in New South Wales).

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Normally only one syllable of the base word is kept in a hypocoristic, although a few exceptions do exist, mostly words with short initial syllables, anotherie, dilutie (‘worker with diluted skills’, McAndrew 1992), colourie ‘marble’, sophisto/sophisticated, dissolvo/dissolving stitches, or Graeco-Latin prefixes ending in /o/, physio/physiotherapist. Others include enduro/endurance bike track, fantazzo/ fantastic. The first part of the template is usually the maximal initial part of the base word which can be a word-final syllable insto/institutional share-holder, unless the original matches both syllables of the template, anthro/anthropologist. /o/ forms generally take more consonants than /i/ forms: compare aggro/aggressive with aggie/agricultural student (the agri of agribusiness is a different kind of blend). However this is not always so: cappo/capstan cigarette rather than *capsto. The major modifications involve: – The alteration of /fricativeC/ clusters in reductions of polysyllabic forms, either by deleting the /s/: lakky band/elastic band, plakky bag/plastic bag or by deleting the second consonant and voicing the fricative: arvo/afternoon, Aussie (pronounced [z])/Australian, fantazzo/fantastic, mozzie/mosquito, and even Kazi people/Kastelorizo denizens, a Greek island off Turkey; – the substitution of liquids by /z/ on personal names (Shazza/Shaz/Sharon, Ez/ Ellen). This is another solution to the longstanding English problem of how to make pet names of personal names starting (C)(C)V(V)RV (Taylor 1992). However this solution has not yet been applied to common nouns: paro/paralytic (drunk), warry/war story; – the substitution of short vowels for long vowels or diphthongs: Rizza/Ryan, Razza/Rachel, Chaz/Charles; – the occasional insertion of /b/: freebie/free thing, Kimbo/Kim. Hypocoristics created by these templates can undergo further compounding: exbanky/ex-bank-worker, no-schoolie/child that does not go to school, non-rezzie/non-residential student, hot crossie/hot cross bun (Dermody 1980). Another notable feature is the maintenance of plural in plural or pluralia tantum forms: boardies/board-shorts, The Goldies/The Goldfields hotel, and the addition of plural when forms are reanalysed as pluralia tantum forms: cozzies=bathers/bathingcostume. 3.1.

One syllable plus /i/

This is the most common hypocoristic form in our data. In both general and Australian English it is often associated with babytalk and adult play babytalk (doggie ‘dog’, tummy ‘stomach’). In Australian English it has been used for derived words, and in normal adult conversation and writing, since the nineteenth century. Thus

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Morris (1898) has beardie, ‘a kind of codfish’, gummy ‘shark species’, roughy ‘Victorian fish’. The alternative form was used in casual writing by the early twentieth century − a letter written by a South Australian soldier in World War I contains: “There were chrysanthemum curtains to the windows and withal real crysies and marigolds arranged on the tables.” (Jacob 1919: 38). Proper names often have hypocoristics in /i/, whether first names (Mushy/Mushtaq Abdullah, a sportsman [The Australian, 5/8/2002: 29]), or surnames: (Warnie/ Shane Warne [a well-known cricketer]). Taylor (1992) suggests that /i/ is more common as a suffix to monosyllabic surnames than on truncated surnames, but /i/ does occur on truncations: the Woodies (the sportsmen Mark Woodforde and Todd Woodbridge), Mountie (the anthropologist Charles Mountford − form recorded in private letter in 1934). /i/ is also suffixed to brandnames: Lykie (Lycoming aeroplane engine); placenames Palmie/Palm Beach, religions Prezzie/Presbyterian, denizens of a place: Bankie ‘inhabitant of Bankstown, a suburb of Sydney’, and sportsteams, the Swannies/the Sydney Swans. /i/ appears on a wide range of nouns (Dabke 1976; McAndrew 1992), including monosyllabic common nouns forming names of occupations: speechie/speech pathologist, kelpie/kelp-harvester, and reductions of polysyllabic words: pollie/ politician, devvie/developer. /i/ is also found on a range of other alternative words: serries (serepax tranquillisers). While some polysyllabic adjectives have alternative shortened forms using /i/: plakky/plastic, marvey/marvellous, the effect of adding /i/ to a monosyllabic adjective is often to create a noun: an oldie, toughy, quickie, coldie. The denotations of the derived nouns vary widely: a bluey may be a blue swimmer crab, a bedroll, a blue woollen cloth (all from the Macquarie Dictionary), a summons, a bill, the name of several Australian lizards, a policeman, a singlet, or a blue plastic sheet put on bed for incontinence. Some verbs have alternative forms in /i/: spitty/to spit-polish. As with adjectives, /i/ is occasionally added to verbs to create nouns: clippie ‘ticket examiner’, twisty/twist (a brand of savoury snack). But the stressed suffix -ee which forms verbs from nouns is probably a different suffix (escapee, refugee, absentee; Dabke 1976). These forms are not alternative words, and are often more than two syllables long. However, the two syllable forms are only distinguished by stress (grantee), and some forms have two interpretations, thus both blockee and blockie appear for ‘someone farming a block of land’. Some appear with /is/ [iz], where the /s/ may be the possessive found in business names: Pennies (Penfolds a business name), the pluralia tantum of ‘works’: steelies/steelworks, in the brandnames of babies’ nappies Huggies/hug, and in pseudo-babytalk words for food, drink and events involving them, drinkies, nibblies, Weeties (cereal brandname), and in the phrase formation I’ve got the munchies (= ‘I feel hungry’).

Hypocoristics in Australian English

3.2.

649

One syllable plus /o/

In many English varieties forms with /o/ are used for words of three or more syllables whose second syllable is open and spelled with an /o/: limo/limousine, mayo/mayonnaise, porno/pornography. The same is true in Australian English: speedo/speedometer, geo/geologist, including occasionally more than two syllables, medico/medical practitioner (cf. medico-legal work). /o/ is also found on brandnames in many English varieties: creamo (non-dairy creamer) is an American example, and the British cartoonist Giles used /o/ for invented brandnames in his cartoons: Cracko, Brecko, Laxo (all breakfast foods). Australian English has Sealo/seal (brandname of sealed silo), Speedos/speed (brandname of swimming costume). Irish English has /o/ on first names and surnames (e.g. Jayo/ Jason), and this use is quite widespread in Australia, particularly on men’s names (Dabke 1976): first names: Davo/David, and surnames: Demo/Dempster. /o/ on proper names occurs more commonly with shortenings, rather than additions of /o/ to a monosyllabic name (Taylor 1992). /o/ is also used for followers of a religion: the Salvoes/the Salvation Army. It is used on placenames: Rotto/Rottnest Island (Simpson 2001). In Irish English /o/ is also found on some common nouns denoting occupations or types of people: journo/journalist. Australian English has many such forms: misho/missionary, misso/Miscellaneous Workers’ Union member, reffo/refugee. New words for types of people are derived from adding /o/ to one syllable words: pisso/piss ‘sewerage worker’ (Dabke 1976). The punning blends aspro ‘male prostitute’ and ‘associate professor’ also fit this pattern. /o/ appears on a range of other common nouns: greaso/grease, greasy ‘fish shop’, compo/compensation, bizzo/business. /o/ also occurs on adjectives snazzo/ snazzy ‘stylishly attractive’, obno/obnoxious, troppo/tropical = ‘mad’, techo/technical. /o/ also occasionally occurs on participles: recoed [»ri:koUd]/reconditioned (engine). Occasionally a verb can be created: gutto/ < gutless ‘to do something cowardly’, as in: “I’m supposed to have these tests, but I keep guttoing out.” (private e-mail to J. Simpson 1/9/1995). 3.3.

First syllable only

This strategy is common in other English varieties. In Australian English it is found on both proper names and common words. Proper names include first names (Sophe/Sophie), surnames (Newk/John Newcombe), placenames (Oz/Australia), denizens of places (the Vics/denizens of Victoria), business names (Tatts Lotto/ Tattersdalls lottery), or sports teams (the Tiges/the Balmain Tigers Rugby League team). Unusual examples taking the final syllable include several Australian Rules football team names: the Pies/the Magpies (Collingwood team) (compare maggie, the usual hypocoristic for ‘magpie’).

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Common nouns include names for types of person (crim/criminal), names for things (daff/daffodil or daphne), names for attributes (beaut/beauty). This strategy is sometimes used on verbs: to veg out/to vegetate. 3.4.

One syllable plus /a/

The hypocoristic use of /a/ was recorded in England from Oxford students’ slang on placenames: Padder/Paddington Station (Jespersen 1942: 233). In Australian English it often appears on placenames as a result of just taking the first two syllables of the name: Coona/Coonabarabran (NSW). It is found on a few placenames: Macker/Macquarie University, and from an acronym: the Wacka/the Western Australian Cricket Ground. /a/ is also found on proper names, usually with a change of liquid to /z/: Mazza/ Marilyn; Wozza/Wally, Warren, Warwick. This change has been extended to other consonants: Brezza/Brett. It is hard to tease out the hypocoristic use of /a/ from quasi-agentive -er attached to nouns. The /er/ of broomer ‘person who sweeps the shearing floor’ (Dabke 1976) could be the quasi-agentive -er. Reductions of polysyllabic words such as acca/acker ‘academic staff member’ seem to fit the same pattern. It is possible that gutser etc. in come a gutser/cropper/greaser ‘fall off’ could also be quasi-agentive. However, others do not have even quasi-agentive meanings: bummer/bum ‘bad thing’ (cf. what a bummer/whopper), sanger ‘sandwich’, boozer ‘pub’, from booze ‘alcohol’, rubber ‘pub’ from rhyming slang rubberdy-dub. A prearranged parliamentary question is a Dorothy Dix or a Dorothy Dixer, suggesting that the -er does not have much agentive meaning. The well-known cuppa/cup of tea or coffee fits the same form. There are occasional examples of adjectives: imma/immature, para/paralytic ‘drunk’. On verbs the use of /a/ is hard to distinguish from agentive -er. While killer ‘cow to be killed’ and chopper as ‘cow sold for pet food’ are derived from the verbs kill and chop, chopper as ‘helicopter’ has several sources: onomatopoeia (the noise of the helicopter) and evocative of ‘copter’ as well, perhaps of the blades chopping the air. 3.5.

One syllable plus /as/

The ending is pronounced [´z]. It has been common in British English slang also used in Australia (champers/champagne, Honkers/Hong Kong, starkers/stark naked, chockers/chock-full), and Taylor (1992) suggests that they are seen as British English. However in the last twenty-five years the use of /as/ has increased in Australia, e.g. ackers/acne, spackers/spastic ‘drunk’. It is common in Australia on proper names: surnames Knappers/Tim Knapstein, a well-known wine-maker (Sydney Morning Herald Good Weekend, 24/10/1998: 85), first names Anders/An-

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drew, and place names Lajas/Lajamanu. There are some ambiguous forms: Maccas/McDonalds fast food could be /a/+plural/possessive -s, or /as/. 3.6.

The s-ending

This ending /s/ ([s], [z], [´z]) is rarely found on common nouns in normal speech; it is mostly found on proper names, and in babytalk and lovers’ pet names: Hi sweetums/ducks/cuddles/possums. Time for dindins/milkies/beddie-byes now. (Mühlhäusler 1983; Taylor 1992). As such it has fewer constraints on the number of syllables of the stem to which it attaches. On common nouns the same form appears in the ill-health/bad feeling constructions: He’s got/he gives me the shits/ runs/irrits/creeps/heebiejeebies, but the meaning appears to relate to other plural form diseases like measles and mumps. Whether endings such as /as/ or short forms such as Baz (Barry/Bazza) should be analysed as containing the s-ending is a matter for investigation.

4.

History and users of hypocoristics

Most studies of Australian English have been based on written sources and on the researchers’ intuitions about spoken English. The Macquarie Dictionary and the Australian National Dictionary (AND) are the products of lexicographers working in Sydney or Canberra. While the lexicographers have made considerable efforts to overcome their regional bias, existing claims about Australian speech are generally based on information from a limited set of dialects and registers, mostly from New South Wales (e.g. McAndrew 1992; Taylor 1992), and Victoria (e.g. Dabke 1976 and Dermody 1980 rely chiefly on Victorian informants). A bigger collection of diminutives (Sussex forthcoming) is in preparation. So far, no quantitative study has been done of who uses which hypocoristics when, and of the history of hypocoristic use in Australia. The area is wide open for a thorough socio-historical investigation. In what follows, I sketch some starting-points for further work. Morris (1898) is an early collection of new words (including some slang) and new uses of old words found in Australia and New Zealand. He read widely, but notes that his collection is biased toward Victorian forms. There are only a few examples of the strategies discussed here: /i/ and /a/ predominate. Dabke (1976) notes the competition between /i/ and /a/ as ways of deriving words for people or things associated with what the noun base denotes. /i/ is found early: bullocky/ bullock team driver (earliest AND citation 1869). However, Morris has slightly more /a/ words derived from nouns than /i/ words: long-sleever ‘big drink’, piner ‘person cutting huon pine’, sundowner ‘swagman’, Waler ‘New South Wales horse’, scrubber ‘wild horse or bullock’, Derwenter ‘released convict from Ho-

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bart’. He also has a couple of /a~i/ variants: slusher/slushy ‘cook’s assistant at shearing-time’, swaggie as ‘humorous variation on swagman’ comparable with swagger in New Zealand. Dabke adds more variants between /a/ and /i/: surfer/ surfy, bullocky/bullocker, broomey/broomer, and suggests that /i/ has taken over the derivational use from /a/ on nouns. Morris also has one example of an alternative word: Tassy ‘a pet name for Tasmania’ used by Victorian cricketers. Dabke (1976), observing the lack of /o/ final words in Morris, suggests that /o/ was not yet established in the language (although mado ‘shark species’ is a possible example). Taylor (1992) notes that in 1905 /a/ appears on hypocoristics of personal names in a Sydney school: Knocker/ Knox, Jonah/Jones, Modger/Maurice, and suggests that it may have been more common than /o/. This all suggests that in the 1890s, in general Australian writing and in Melbourne speech, /a/ and /i/ were the most common ways of forming new words, that /i/ was in use for hypocoristics and not just in babytalk, that /o/ and /as/ were not yet established in Melbourne speech. The development of /o/ probably resulted from a confluence of sources (McAndrew 1992). One is calls and street cries: smoke oh/smoke ho! ‘workbreak’ (earliest AND citation 1865, from a Melbourne magazine), “Milk oh!” milk-oh ‘milk-seller’ (earliest AND citation 1907) and bottle-oh ‘person who sells bottles’ (earliest AND citation 1898 from a Sydney magazine). McAndrew (1992) observes that the /o/ suffix is strongest in the former penal colonies in New South Wales, Victoria, Tasmania and Queensland, and less strong in South Australia, which was a colony of free settlers. This is in part born out by the distribution of place-names with hypocoristics ending in /o/, which is strongest in New South Wales – I have recorded 27 there compared with three in Queensland and eight in Victoria. Only two forms have been recorded in South Australia, in 2002 from teenagers, Coro/Coromandel Valley and Mazzo/Maslins Beach (more commonly Maslins). Neither form was recognised by older consultants. However the prevalence of “deflationary -o forms” may stem not from the “anti-authoritarian, larrikin societies of former penal settlements” as McAndrew (1992: 180) proposes, but rather from the fact that the penal colonies of New South Wales and Queensland had many people of Irish origin who may have been using the /o/ hypocoristic of Irish English. Since the Irish were, by and large, in the underclasses, their speech would have taken a while to enter into written language and thus into dictionaries. The suggestion that /o/ was used by the underclasses accords with Taylor’s assertion that most of these templates “were originally − indeed still were as recently as my boyhood [in Sydney] in the 1940s − only encountered in the language of working-class Australian men” (Taylor 1992: 520). Like Taylor, other sources also comment on the use of /o/ and /i/ forms by men (Dabke 1976: 36; McAndrew 1992), and to a lesser extent, the use of /i/ forms by women (Gunn 1972: 60). Keesing (1985) notes the comparative absence in earlier

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discussions of alternative forms in /i/ used by women (cardie/cardigan). Some authors express a distaste for these, which may reflect a greater use by women of certain /i/ hypocoristics such as lippie/lipstick that are more readily seen as babytalk than are /i/ hypocoristics used as names of occupations such as shitty/ sanitation cart worker.

5.

Meaning and uses of hypocoristics

One of the difficulties assigning meanings to the templates described here is that there is no hard and fast line between new words and alternative words. At one extreme are forms like blockie which, as Dabke (1976: 41) notes, has no obvious full form, smoko and stackie/stack ‘library officer who takes books to and from the library stacks’. At the other are forms like lippie which, presumably, are always seen as alternative words, and so are likely to contrast in connotation with the full form. In between, there is much speaker variation. Some people might always use the word wharfy for wharfside worker, and so for them the word probably lacks the connotations of lippie. Others might alternate, and so for them wharfy probably has different connotations from wharfside worker. Taylor (1992) argues that for proper names the difference between /i/ and / o/ is mostly morphologically determined, rather than semantically determined. However, both McAndrew (1992) and Wierzbicka (1984) find differences in the meaning and use of the /i/ hypocoristic and /o/ hypocoristic on alternative words. McAndrew (1992: 174) writes: “If the Aussie diminutives seem mostly elegant, affectionate and familiar, the contractions ending in /o/ are more coarse, vigorous, excessive [...] Far from diminutives, they are pejoratives denoting clumsiness, roughness, ugliness, contempt, laziness, carelessness and excess.” Wierzbicka (1984: 128−129) suggests that the /i/ hypocoristic on common nouns is a “depreciative”, which expresses informality and solidarity. She describes its meaning: We sent you a prezzie (we are having a barbie) I don’t think of it as a big thing I assume you think of it in the same way talking about it I am in a good mood (as people are when talking about small things towards which they feel good feelings) While McAndrews’s pejorative /o/ fits with the American use of the ending creepo/creepy person, weirdo/weird person etc., Wierzbicka (1984: 129) describes the use of the /o/ hypocoristic (on examples like journo/journalist, demo/demonstration), as something which conveys “toughness, informality, good humour and antiintellectualism”. She describes its meaning:

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I don’t think of it as anything special I am used to it I assume that you think of it in the same way talking about it I don’t want to use long words (as people who think of it as something special do) If the differences between the endings is purely semantic, then variation in uses of form would be expected, both between base forms and hypocoristics, and between types of hypocoristics. That is, we might expect journalist to appear as both journo and journie with different meanings. But they do not. Journo is the favoured form. Occasionally there are pairs. Sometimes one form, usually an /i/ form, is seen as babytalk: Dabke (1976) notes goody/goodoh, kiddy/kiddo, and compare jarmies~PJs/pyjamas, and kanga (babytalk)~roo/kangaroo. However, sometimes different hypocoristics have different denotations, with the /o/ form more likely to denote a person: herp ‘reptile’, herpo ‘herpetologist’; chockie ‘chocolate’, chocko ‘chocolate soldier’ (Army reserve); sickie ‘sick leave’, sicko ‘psychologically sick person’; plazzo ‘plastic nappy’, plakky ‘plastic’ (adjective). But often there are no clear differences: milky~milko/milkman, commy~commo/communist, weirdy~weirdo/weird person, garbie ~garbo/garbage collector, kindie~kinder/ kindergarten; bottlie~bottlo/bottle merchant, sammie~sandie~sangie~sanger~sa mbo/sandwich, preggie~preggo~preggers/pregnant, Proddo~Proddy/Protestant, pro~prozzo~prostie~prozzie/prostitute. Speakers who use more than one hypocoristic may assign to them the meanings proposed by Wierzbicka. But if a speaker uses only one of the possible hypocoristics, for them the hypocoristic may have a general meaning of informality, and not the proposed fine-grained differences. This remains to be explored. *

This paper is derived from work David Nash and I have been doing on hypocoristics in Australian English, originally inspired by Anna Wierzbicka’s work, and now also in collaboration with Roland Sussex. The data is available at: http://www.arts.usyd.edu.au/departs/linguistics/research/hypocoristic/ We thank the following people for providing Australian English data: our families, Brett Baker, Linda Barwick, Jason Berends, Pauline Bryant (and the listeners to Angela Catterns’ programme on 2BL 20/8/1998), Kate Burridge (and the listeners to Terry Laidler’s programme on 3LO 4/11/1998), David Bradley, Peter Campbell, David Carrick, Miriam Corris, Rachel Dallas, Alan Dench, Mark Donohue, Mark Durie, Ian Green, Arlene Harvey, Andrew Ingram, Jason Johnston, Kevin Keeffe, Mary Laughren, Sarah Lee, Oliver Mayo, John and Sue McEntee, Bill McGregor, Marcia Mediati, Daphne Nash, Bill Palmer, Bruce Rigsby, Lila San Roque, Adam Schembri, Roland Sussex and participants in his online discussion group , Brian Taylor, Michael Walsh, David Wilkins and Monty Wilkinson, and audiences at the Australian Linguistics Society Annual Meeting, 1986 and the Department of Linguistics Seminar, University of Sydney 1998. For Irish English data we are grateful to Maire NíChíosain. None of these people are responsible for our recording of their data or for the use we

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have made of it. For discussion of the theoretical description of hypocoristics over many years we thank Toni Borowsky, John McCarthy, Heather Robinson, Donca Steriade, Anna Wierzbicka. For preparation of the on-line site we thank Sarah Lee and Lila San Roque.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Dabke, Roswitha 1976 Morphology of Australian English. München: Fink. Dermody, Anthony Christopher 1980 Word abbreviation and suffixing in Australian English. B.A. Honours thesis, La Trobe University, Melbourne. Gunn, Jeannie S. 1972 Change in Australian idiom. In: George W. Turner (ed.), Good Australian English and good New Zealand English, 47−63. Sydney: Reed Education. Jacob, John 1919 Home letters of a soldier-student. Adelaide: G Hassall and Son. Jespersen, Otto 1942 A Modern English Grammar on Historical Principles, Part VI: Morphology. Copenhagen: Ejnar Munksgaard. Keesing, Nancy 1982 Lily on the Dustbin: Slang of Australian Women and Families. Ringwood, VIC: Penguin Books Australia Ltd. McAndrew, Alex 1992 Hosties and Garbos: a look behind diminutives and pejoratives in Australian English. In: Claudia Blank (ed.), Language and Civilization: A Concerted Profusion of Essays and Studies in Honour of Otto Hietsch, 166−184. Frankfurt am Main: Lang. Morris, Edward E. 1898 Austral English: A Dictionary of Australasian Words, Phrases and Usages. London: Macmillan. Mühlhäusler, Peter 1983 Stinkiepoos, cuddles and related matters. Australian Journal of Linguistics 3: 75−91. Poynton, Cate 1984 Names as vocatives: forms and functions. Nottingham Linguistic Circular 13: 1−34. Simpson, Jane 2001 Hypocoristics of place-names in Australian English. In: Blair and Collins (eds.), 89–112. Sussex, Roland forthcoming Dictionary of Australian Diminutives.

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Taylor, Brian A. 1992 Otto 988 to Ocker 1988: The morphological treatment of personal names in Old High German and colloquial Australian English. In: Claudia Blank (ed.), Language and Civilization: A Concerted Profusion of Essays and Studies in Honour of Otto Hietsch, 505−536. Frankfurt am Main: Lang. Weeda, Don 1992 Word truncation in prosodic morphology. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Texas, Austin. Wierzbicka, Anna 1984 Diminutives and depreciatives: semantic representation for derivational categories. Quaderni di Semantica 5: 123–130.

Australian creoles and Aboriginal English: morphology and syntax Ian G. Malcolm

1.

Introduction

This chapter is concerned with the three major varieties of “restructured English” (Holm 1988−1989: 538) which are currently spoken by Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians: Kriol, Torres Strait Creole and Aboriginal English. A brief overview of the contact experience leading to the development of these varieties is provided in Malcolm (other volume) and will not be repeated here. These English-derived forms of communication constitute the home languages of the majority of Indigenous Australians, having supplanted more than half of the estimated original 250 Indigenous languages spoken in Australia in 1788 when it was claimed and occupied by the British. Kriol is spoken in an area extending from the far north of Western Australia, across the Northern Territory and into western Queensland. Torres Strait Creole is spoken in the Torres Strait Islands between Cape York and Papua New Guinea, and along the north coast of the Queensland mainland. Aboriginal English, with some regional variation, is spoken in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities throughout Australia. The restructuring of the English superstrate which has led to the development of Australian creoles has involved, initially, the appropriation for cross-cultural communicative purposes of a basically English lexicon, often in association with the relexification of Indigenous conceptualizations, concurrent with the radical simplification of the English morphology and syntax. Under ongoing Indigenous substrate influence, as the simplified code has functioned increasingly for communication among Indigenous speakers, it has gone through a “developmental continuum” (Mühlhäusler 1997) towards a stabilized form as a new contact language. Further stabilization and elaboration, under specific sociolinguistic conditions, led, in the Northern Territory, to the development of Kriol on the basis of one pidgin foundation and, in the Torres Strait Islands, to the development of Torres Strait Creole on the basis of another pidgin foundation. Aboriginal English developed in different parts of the country from pre-existing pidgins of which one, New South Wales Pidgin, was dominant. It also underwent ongoing influence from standard and non-standard varieties of English spoken in Australia and in some places from creoles, whether stable or going through a “restructuring continuum” (Mühlhäusler 1997) back towards the superstrate language. In Kriol and Torres Strait Creole it is possible to observe in the morphology and syntax innovative

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processes which are a part of the developmental continuum away from English. In Aboriginal English there are traces of these processes but also evidences of the restructuring continuum under the influence of Standard English.

2.

Morphology and syntax of Australian creoles

The morphology and syntax of Australian creoles will be traced here using, where possible, the categories developed by Holm (1988−1989) for the description of Atlantic creoles, and will thus facilitate comparison across hemispheres. Features and speech samples cited come from more detailed descriptions. For Kriol there are Hudson (1981), Sandefur (1979, 1991a,b), Sharpe and Sandefur (1976, 1977), Fraser (1977) and Steffensen (1977), and for Torres Strait Creole Crowley and Rigsby (1979), Dutton (1970) and Shnukal (1988, 1991). To avoid interrupting the flow of the text, these sources will not always be individually referenced. 2.1.

Verb phrase

2.1.1. Subject-verb agreement Subject-verb agreement is not normally an issue, since there is little or no inflectional morphology and words tend to be monomorphemic (Shnukal 1991: 187). Where the creole is restructuring towards English, inflected and uninflected forms of the verb may be used interchangeably without regard to subject agreement. Sandefur (1979: 138) has pointed out that, although it does not have concord between the subject and verb in terms of number, Kriol may observe concord between verb and object, in that continuative aspect in the verb co-occurs with a plural, but not a singular, object. 2.1.2. The unmarked verb Holm (1988−1989: 150) observes that in Atlantic creoles the unmarked verb may refer “to whatever time is in focus, which is either clear from the context or specified at the beginning of the discourse.” This may also be the case with Australian creoles. Kriol verbs carry no tense inflection. In Torres Strait Creole, the verb is usually used with the simplest indicative form and the tense needs to be inferred, as in Me go ‘I went’. 2.1.3. Tense Although the unmarked verb may imply tense, there is also an optional pre-verbal past tense marker, bin (or imin), as in dog i bin kambek ‘the dog has returned’ or

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im bin gilim me ‘he hit me’. Bin is derived from been and, under the influence of restructuring towards English, may be replaced by been. In Torres Strait Creole, another form of bin is bi, as in we bi gou ‘we went’. Future tense may be expressed in Kriol with the pre-verbal future tense marker gona (or na), with andi, as in Im andi jilib jaya ‘He will sleep there’, or (at least in child speech) with gotta (garra) (Fraser 1977: 154). Alternatively, the future meaning may be expressed through the adverb tumaro. In Torres Strait Creole, future is optionally signalled by the pre-verbal marker go. 2.1.4. Aspect Perfect aspect, in Kriol, may be expressed with the adverbial na at the end of the clause. Continuous aspect may be expressed with the suffix -bad (or -obad), as in im bin megimbad ginu ‘he was making a canoe’. Alternatively, with intransitive verbs, continuous aspect may be expressed through reduplication, as in im bin gray gray ‘he was crying’. Kriol expresses progressive aspect with the marker -in, as in jing-in-at ‘singing out, calling’. Durative or iterative aspect may be expressed in Kriol with -bat, as in silip-in-bat-silip-in-a-bat ‘sleeping’. Habitual state may be expressed by the reduplication of adjectives (Steffensen 1977). In Torres Strait Creole, Shnukal (1991: 189) identifies six core aspect markers: kip (iterative), nomo (cessative), oltaim (habitual), pinis (completive), stat (inceptive) and stil (continuative). 2.1.5. Negation In Kriol, the verb may be negated by a preposed modal gan ‘cannot’ or nomo, as in Yu nomo bin albim mi ‘You didn’t help me’. No and nomo operate similarly in Torres Strait Creole, except that in this creole nomo may be placed at the end of the sentence. When using past tense, Torres Strait Creole speakers may negate the verb by preceding it with neba. 2.1.6. Forms of be There are few traces of the Standard English verb be in Australian creoles. Equational sentences do not require the copula in the present tense in Kriol, hence Olabat bigbala yem ‘They are big yams’ (Sandefur 1979: 123), or in Torres Strait Creole, hence Mislam i boi blo Kemuel ‘Mislam is Kemuel’s son’ (Shnukal 1991: 189–190). However, a copula is required where the past tense is salient, as in Olabat bin bigbala yem ‘They were big yams’. The same principle applies to descriptive sentences, as in the following examples from Torres Strait Creole: Kaikai i redi nau ‘The meal is ready now’ (Shnukal 1991: 190) and Ai bi fored ‘I was in the bows’ (Dutton 1970: 147). Another variant current in the Kimberley is bin bi,

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as in I bin bi nugudwan ‘He was unwell’. Existential sentences (in Kriol and in Torres Strait Creole) do not use ‘be’ but ‘got’, as in I gad kap ya ‘There is a cup here’ (Shnukal 1991: 190). ‘Be’ does not function as an auxiliary, except in the form of the pre-verbal past tense marker bin, sometimes contracted to imin, as in Imin gaman ‘He came’. 2.1.7. Parataxis In Atlantic creoles Holm (1988−1989: 183) has observed the occurrence of serial verbs, which he describes as follows: “a series of two (or more) verbs; they both have the same subject and are not joined by a conjunction (‘and’) or a complementizer (‘to’) as they would be in European languages.” A similar (though not identical) feature was observed by Dutton (1970: 145) in Torres Strait Creole, where he found a tendency to place a large number of short sentences side by side without conjunctions. His transcription into “informal English” reads “me fellow go down take spear me two go fishing go that way me two go now come front point and looked that all the same thread there...” Shnukal (1988: 81−82) refers to this phenomenon as “verb chaining”, as in Da bot i kam anka ya ‘The boat came and anchored here’ and Em i ledaun de krai ‘He was lying there weeping.’ 2.1.8. Passive The passive, where it occurs (and it has been rarely recorded in the literature) is formed with git, as in Olabat andi (‘will’) git kil ‘They will be/get killed’ (Sandefur 1979: 137). Hudson (1981: 115) identifies git with an inchoative derivational affix (‘become’) found in most traditional Aboriginal languages. 2.1.9. Transitive Verbs used transitively may be marked with a suffix, most commonly -im, as in Im gilim ge
garru ‘He is hitting a kangaroo’ (Sharpe and Sandefur 1976) or Im bin chak-im spia ‘He threw the spear’ (Crowley and Rigsby 1979). There are a number of other variants of the suffix, including -am, -em, -um, -i and -it in Kriol and -em, -e, -i in Torres Strait Creole. In Kriol, there is vowel harmony between the final vowel of the verb stem and the vowel of the suffix, although the unstressed vowel may be neutralized (Hudson 1981: 37). When a transitive suffix is used, it is possible for the object to be deleted (Sandefur 1979: 116). Although it is normal for verbs used transitively to be marked, the suffix may be omitted where there are no other verb suffixes and the object is overtly stated (Hudson 1981: 37).

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2.1.10. The adverb The adverbial element in the verb phrase in Australian creoles is commonly expressed through suffixing. Sandefur (1979: 117−118) has identified nine adverbial suffixes in Kriol: -an ‘on’, -ap ‘up’, -at ‘out’, -bek ‘back’, dan ‘down’, -in ‘in’, op ‘off’, -ran ‘around’ and -wei ‘away’. Shnukal (1991: 187) has referred to “four adjective and adverb suffixes, -kain, -said, -taim and -wei, which express approximation, location, time and manner, respectively.” Fraser (1977) observed in Fitzroy Crossing Children’s Pidgin the common use of the free adverb morphemes epritime ‘always’, longtime ‘a long time ago’ and longway. 2.2.

Noun phrase

In Kriol, the noun phrase consists of a noun, optionally modified by adjectives and pronouns (Sandefur 1979: 77). In Torres Strait Creole, it consists of “an obligatory noun or pronoun and four optional elements. The order of these elements is: determiner, quantifier, adjective, noun/pronoun, preposition phrase” (Shnukal 1991: 188). 2.2.1. Determiners Steffensen (1977) has observed that in Kriol the demonstrative system (jad~dad, dij) takes over part of the function performed by articles in Standard English, and that the determiner is often omitted. This corresponds to the process observed by Holm (1988−1989) with respect to Atlantic creoles. In Fitzroy Crossing Children’s Pidgin /tat/ or /ta/ may occur in the place of a determiner (Fraser 1977: 199). Another variant, /dæd/, has been observed in a post-creole context in Halls Creek. Torres Strait Creole has four articles, all of which are optional: da ‘the’ (singular, definite), dem ‘the’ (plural, definite), wan ‘a, an’ (singular, indefinite) and ol ‘in general’ (plural, generic) (Shnukal 1988: 24). The use of wan, derived from Standard English one, as an indefinite article is not peculiar to Australian creoles. It is attested, for example, in Miskito Coast Creole English by Holm (1988−1989: 192). Dutton (1970: 148) observes that Torres Strait Creole speakers may add the or a where they would not be required in Standard English, as in the las Sunday ‘last Sunday’ and come in a two dinghi ‘came in two dinghies’. This could be seen as evidence of decreolization in process. 2.2.2. Number Australian creoles do not inflect the noun for plural number. The only exception to this is the reduplicated plural used in olmenolmen ‘old men’ and olgolgamen ‘old women’ (Sharpe and Sandefur 1977: 54). Plural may be indicated by a collective

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nominal such as mab or lad, as in dad lad men ‘those men’ or a quantifier such as bigmab, lada ‘much, many’, old‘all the’ or sambala ‘some’. The general plural quantifier alla is used in Fitzroy Crossing (Fraser 1977). Torres Strait Creole employs six general quantifiers: lelbet ‘a few’, olgeda ‘all’, plenti ‘many’, pulap ‘plenty of’ and tumas ‘too many’ (Shnukal 1991: 188). 2.2.3. Gender Australian creole nouns do not inflect for gender. In Torres Strait Creole it is possible (though not obligatory) to mark gender by the use of the adjectives man ‘male’ and oman ‘female’, as in man ata ‘grandfather’ and oman ata ‘grandmother’ (Shnukal 1991: 188). 2.2.4. Possession Possession is not marked on the noun but is expressed by a derivative of Standard English belong, namely bla or blanga in Kriol, as in Dad san bla mai sista im lib la Sydney ‘My sister’s son lives in Sydney’, or /blo/ in Torres Strait Creole, as in /neim blo kenu/ ‘canoe’s name’. Another form, common in the Kimberley, is fo ( < for), as in Tharran bla Trisa fo dedi ‘That is Teresa’s father’s’. 2.2.5. Pronouns The personal pronoun morphology of Australian creoles is distinctive and incorporates a number of discriminations not common to Standard English. In addition to singular and plural, dual number is marked, and first person dual and plural pronouns have alternative forms to make explicit the inclusion or exclusion of the person spoken to. On the other hand, neither the subject/object distinction nor the third person singular gender distinction is strongly maintained (as is the case with many other creoles [Holm 1988−1989]). The recognition of the semantic categories of dual and inclusive is something Kriol and Torres Strait Creole share with many of Australia’s Indigenous languages (Koch 2000: 38). In Kriol, most personal pronouns have several variants. In some cases the variation is on a regional basis (see e.g. Sandefur 1979: 89) and in other cases on a stylistic (i.e. acrolectal vs. basilectal) basis. Table 1 shows the main variant forms which have been reported on the basis of research carried out in the Northern Territory (Steffensen 1977; Sharpe and Sandefur 1976; Sandefur 1979) and Western Australia. Forms reported from Western Australia are shown in bold. In order to standardize the orthography, the conventions of Hudson (1981) are used in all cases. It should be noted that Koch (2000: 38) has provided a description of what he calls Aboriginal Pidgin, spoken in Central Australia. The forms he lists (though not shown here) are among the variants listed for Kriol in Table 1

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and, in particular, those recorded from Western Australia. Koch sees Aboriginal Pidgin, on the basis of its maintenance of dual number and the inclusive/exclusive distinction, as related both to Melanesian Pidgin English and to Australian Indigenous languages. Table 1.

Personal pronouns of Kriol Singular

first person inclusive

exclusive

ai (subj)

mi (subj or obj) ai (subj) a (subj)

mi (obj)

Dual

Plural

yunmi minyu wi (subj) as (obj)

yunmalabat minalabat yunminalabat wi wilat wi as (obj)

mindupla mindapala mindupala wi as (obj)

melabat mipala wi mela mipala wi as (obj)

second person

yu yu

yundapala yundupala yunpala yundupala

yupala yumab yuwalabat yumpala yu yupala

third person

i im i (fem or masc)* im (masc, S or O)* it (fem, S or O)*

dupala imdupala dupala

alabat olabat olobat al

dei (subj) dem (obj) je dei (subj) dem (obj) olabat ol olap tat lat

* These distinctions have been reported for Fitzroy Crossing Children’s Pidgin by Fraser (1977).

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Table 2.

Personal pronouns of Torres Strait Creole (Broken)

first person inclusive exclusive second person third person

Singular

Dual

Plural

ai (subj) mi (obj)

yumi/wi (subj or obj) mitu/wi (subj or obj)

yumi yumpla/wi (subj or obj) mipla/wi (subj or obj)

yu, y
em, i (‘he, she, it’)

yutu (subj or obj) demtu (subj or obj)

yupla (sub, obj) demplaa/ol (subj) dempla/em (obj)

(Data based on Shnukal 1988, supplemented by Dutton 1970. Forms reported only by Dutton are shown in bold.)

The Torres Strait Creole personal pronoun system contrasts with the Standard English system in similar ways to the Kriol system. However, it differs from Kriol in some of its distinctive pronoun forms as well as in exhibiting less variation. As Shnukal (1991: 187) has shown, its morphology is unified by consistent use of bound personal pronoun suffixes, -tu (dual) and -pla (plural). Both Kriol and Torres Strait Creole have distinctive possessive pronouns/determiners. These are shown in Table 3, which reproduces data for Kriol (in bold) from Hudson (1981: 46) and for Torres Strait Creole from Shnukal (1988: 26). The Kriol examples shown here could be added too, in that “basically the personal pronouns are simply placed before a noun to indicate possession” (Sandefur 1979: 89). Table 3.

Possessive pronouns/determiners of Kriol and Torres Strait Creole (Broken) Singular

Dual

Plural

first person inclusive exclusive

mai

yumi

yumpla

main ~ mainwan

mitu

mipla

second person

yu, yuswan

yutu

yupla, yuswan

third person

em, is

demtu

dempla, deya

Kriol has a reflexive pronoun mijαlb, mijelb or, in the Kimberley, jelp which is invariant for all persons. In addition, there are in Kriol reciprocal pronouns mijαmed ‘together’ and gijα ‘each other’. Torres Strait Creole has a set of reflexive pronouns formed by suffixing -selp to the above possessive forms, as shown in Table 4, derived from Shnukal (1988: 33).

Australian creoles and Aboriginal English: morphology and syntax Table 4.

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Reflexive personal pronouns of Torres Strait Creole (Broken) Singular

Dual

Plural

first person inclusive exclusive

maiselp/miselp

yumiselp

yumplaselp

mituselp

miplaselp

second person

yuselp

yutuselp

yuplaselp

third person

emselp

demtuselp

demplaselp

2.2.6. Adjectives As Sandefur (1979: 100) has noted, it is not always easy to distinguish adjectives from nouns in Kriol, as they frequently occur with nominalising suffixes -bala, -wan (as in longpala ‘long one’, kukwan ‘ripe’ and nukutwan ‘bad one’ [Fraser 1977]) and, occasionally, -baga. It is noted by Steffensen (1977) that the suffixes are used with numerals, as in dubala boi ‘two boys’, and are omitted in the prenominal position. The same author also notes that the adjective may be reduplicated to indicate plurality in the noun. Torres Strait Creole has a somewhat different pattern of suffixing and reduplication. Shnukal (1991: 187), as already noted in 2.1.10., lists four suffixes which may be used with adjectives or adverbs: -kain (approximation), -said (location), -taim (time) and -wei (manner). She also notes that reduplication may be used to intensify the meaning of the adjective, as in kalakala ‘multi-coloured’ and spotspot ‘spotted.’ 2.2.7. Prepositions and enclitics With respect to Atlantic creoles, Holm (1988−1989: 207) has noted the tendency to use a generalized locative such as na to embrace ‘in’, ‘at’ and ‘to’, and the close linking of such prepositions to the verbs they accompany. These tendencies are present in Australian creoles. With respect to Kriol, Steffensen (1977) observed four prepositions: la~langa (locative), bla~blanga (possessive), bram (ablative) and garrim (associative). To these, Sharpe and Sandefur (1976, 1977) add fo (purposive). Shnukal (1991: 189) identifies four basic prepositions in Torres Strait Creole which may have been the only prepositions in the pidgin from which it is derived: lo (location, from ‘along’), go (goal, from ‘go’), kam (source, from ‘come’) and blo (possession, from ‘belong’). There are also a number of enclitics or “second order suffixes” (Sandefur 1991a: 207), derived from English prepositions, which modify the meaning of verbs to which they are attached, as in Im bin buldan ‘He fell down’. Other examples include -ap ‘up’, -bek ‘back’, -ad ‘out’, -in ‘in’, -an ‘on’ and -we ‘away’ (Sharpe

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and Sandefur 1976). A partly overlapping set of bound suffixes occurs in Torres Strait Creole, i.e., -ap ‘up’, -aut ‘out’, -baut ‘about’, -daun ‘down’, -op ‘off’, -raun ‘around’ and -wei ‘away’ (Shnukal 1991: 187). 2.3.

Structure of sentences

2.3.1. Statements As is most common in Atlantic creoles (Holm 1988−1989: 211), the basic word order in Australian creoles is SVO. The subject is always the noun phrase coming before the verb, as in Det olgaman silip ‘The woman is asleep’, and the object follows the transitive verb, as in Det olgaman kukumbat daga ‘The woman is cooking food’, although the object can be brought to the beginning for purposes of topicalization, as in Ola daga, deibin binijimap ‘They ate all the food’ (Sandefur 1991a: 208). 2.3.2. Questions Questions may be formed in Kriol by intonation, as in I shut-im up? ‘Will I stop it?’ I can go? ‘Can I go?’, You like-im? ‘Do you like it?’ (Fraser 1977). Alternatively, they can be formed with the interrogative pronouns hu ‘who’, blau/ blanga hu/hu blanga ‘whose’, wanim ‘what’, wijan ‘which’ as in Hu bin dagat? ‘Who has eaten?’, Waijan mikibul bin binij? ‘Which young bull died?’ (Sandefur 1979: 96−98), or weya (or its variant /wdt/), as in weya dijan iya? ‘whereabouts’ (Sharpe and Sandefur 1977: 60). A third option is the use of the tag question markers ngi or intit, accompanied by rising pitch (Sharpe and Sandefur 1977: 57). Torres Strait Creole also forms questions by intonation, or with the use of interrogative pronouns hau ‘how’, haumach ‘how much, how many’, wee ‘where’, wen ‘when’, hu bla ‘whose’ and wanim ‘what’ (Crowley and Rigsby 1979). The question tag eh also occurs regularly in Torres Strait Creole (Dutton 1970). 2.3.3. Conjunctions In Kriol, simple sentences are coordinated with an ‘and’, though, according to Steffensen (1977), this may also express subordination. Sharpe and Sandefur (1977: 57) list seven conjunctions: an ‘and’, bat ‘but’, buji/bunji ‘if’, anles ‘unless’, dumaji ‘because’, wen ‘when’ and weya ‘where’. Torres Strait Creole, as described by Shnukal (1988, 1991), may express coordination with ane or an or ene ‘and’, bat ‘but’, insted or matha ‘instead’, and o ‘or’ and may express subordination with apta ‘after’, bipo ‘before’, sun ‘as soon as’, til ‘until’, wen ‘when,

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after, as’, or with causal complementizers bikos, daswai and prom, conditional complementizers ip and orels and purpose complementizers po and slong. 2.3.4. Embedding There are a number of different ways of marking relative clauses in Kriol. These include the use of prepositional phrases, as in Main andi gadim modiga andi kaman ‘My auntie with a car is coming’ or Wanbala olmen waya imin we:k langa Elsi bin dalim me ‘A certain man who worked at Elsey Station told me’ (Sandefur 1979: 107). Alternatively, it is possible simply to incorporate one clause into another, as in Jadan olmen ai bin luk, im sikbala ‘That man I saw is sick’ (Sandefur 1979: 172). Relative clauses may also be formed with wan, as in Dij buk wan ai bin gibit yu im olwan (Steffensen 1977). In Torres Strait Creole, embedded clauses may be introduced with conjunctions (see 2.3.3.) as in Apta we kam baik prom sos, wi go greibyad ‘After we get back from church, we’ll go to the cemetery’ (Shnukal 1988: 77). Relative clauses may be introduced with we, as in Dat stori we yu bi spik i prapa paniwan ‘That story you told was very funny’, or (as in Kriol) may have no relative pronoun, as in Ai lukraun mai klos ai bin luzim ‘I looked for my dress (that) I had lost’ (Shnukal 1988: 81). 2.3.5. Verb repetition Iterative aspect may be expressed in both Kriol and Torres Strait Creole by repeating the verb, with the number of repetitions reflecting the intended emphasis, as in Yu ran ran go! ‘Keep running!’ Em i go go go ‘He kept on going and going and going…’ (Shnukal 1988: 51); Ay ben wed wed wed wed wed wed najing ‘I waited for ages but nothing (came)’ (Sharpe and Sandefur 1977: 53). 2.3.6. Predicate marking A pronoun, or pronoun-derived form, may be used in both Kriol and Torres Strait Creole to mark the division between the subject and predicate, as in sambala boi de bin go ‘some boys went’, dad gel im getin fat ‘that girl is getting fat’ (Steffensen 1977), and Dog i dig-im graun fa kaikai boun ‘The dog is digging the ground to eat the bone’ (Crowley and Rigsby 1979). 2.3.7. Object deletion In Kriol, the direct object may be deleted if it is recoverable from the context, as in Imbin kukumbat ‘She cooked (the food)’ (Sandefur 1991a: 208). This is associated with the practice of transitive suffixing of the verb (see 2.1.9.).

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2.3.8. Pre-sentence modification Crowley and Rigsby (1979) have reported that a small number of words in Torres Strait Creole may operate as ‘pre-sentence modifiers’, being placed at the beginning of a sentence to provide aspectual and/or tense extension to the meaning of the verb, as in Klosap me go luk yu ‘I’ll see you soon’. The words which operate this way are: klosap (immediate future), baimbai (distant future), stil (continuative), oredi (completive) and mait (dubitive) (see also 2.1.4.). 2.3.9. Post-sentence modification Another set of words have been identified by Crowley and Rigsby (1979) as occurring at the end of a sentence to give aspectual modification to the verb, as in Ol kaikai wanwan ‘They ate one after the other’. These words are: pinis (completive), gen (repetitive), trai (attemptive), nau (inceptive), wanwan (sequentive) and yet (continuative) (see also 2.1.4.).

3.

Morphology and syntax of Aboriginal English

Unlike the creoles, Aboriginal English is distributed across communities in all areas of Australia. In some places there is contemporary influence from creoles which may result in transfer and interlanguage features. In most places the influence from pidgin/creole is less direct. The discussion here will focus on features which would seem to be systematically a part of Aboriginal English, though their occurrence may be variable. 3.1.

Verb phrase

3.1.1. Subject-verb agreement Aboriginal English is much less regular than Standard English in marking agreement of the third person present tense verb with a singular subject. Hence, he get wild ‘he gets/got wild’; this go on top ‘this goes on top’; he don’t ‘he doesn’t’. This is a widespread finding from all States/Territories studied, and from both rural and urban areas (Alexander 1965; Flint 1968; Eagleson 1977; Koch 1991: 98; Harkins 1994: 74; Elwell 1977; Eagleson, Kaldor and Malcolm 1982: 91; Malcolm 1995: 135). The (frequent) non-observance of subject-verb agreement leads to the regularization of the morphology of the verb to be for all persons in the past tense, hence We was awake; me and Tommy was awake; they was comin to Wagin. This, with elision of the initial consonant and vowel of the verb, leads to /aiz/ for ‘I was’ as in I-z goin’ (Sharpe 1977: 47; cf. Readdy 1961: 94).

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3.1.2. The unmarked verb The unmarked verb may often carry past tense meaning, as in He hook him ‘He hooked him’; one time we go there ‘went there once’. The past sense, if relevant, is retrievable from the context or from the co-text, as in Last night me and my big brother fight. The unmarked verb may occasionally function as an auxiliary or copula as in I be cold ‘I am cold’. 3.1.3. Tense Past tense marking is (as noted in 3.1.2.) optional in Aboriginal English although it is not completely absent. Past tense verbs are more frequently marked than unmarked and if past tense meaning is salient, there are cues other than verb inflection by which the listener can infer it. In narrative, the past tense may be marked early in the narrative and assumed thereafter. Where the past tense is marked, there are several common variants apart from that which corresponds to the Standard English form. With certain verbs (such as see, do, come and run) the form which corresponds to the past participle in Standard English (seen, done, come, run) may be used to express simple past tense. Some verbs have past tense forms which do not exist in Standard English, such as brang, brung. Some verbs which require vowel change for past tense in Standard English are liable to be inflected with the regular past tense morpheme, as in shined ‘shone’. In some cases, in both remote and urban areas, the past tense may be doubly marked, as in camed ‘came’ or didn’t stayed. The creole past tense marker bin, sometimes phonetically altered to been in accordance with restructuring towards Standard English (as in We never been la court ‘We did not go to court’ [Eades 1996: 134]), is strongly present in most less urbanized areas, though Harkins (1994: 74) saw it as on decline in Alice Springs. The sense of bin is past, but not necessarily with the non-continuous sense of the simple past in Standard English The perfect tense is rarely expressed in Aboriginal English, and, where it is, the auxiliary is not present (Readdy 1961: 100; Eagleson 1977: 537−538). Future tense is (as in informal Standard English) often unmarked and is not shown in the modal auxiliary nearly as often as in Standard English. It is most commonly expressed with a form, or derivative, of the verb go or (less commonly) get, e.g. going to, gonna, got to, gotta. 3.1.4. Aspect On the basis of data from North-West Queensland, it has been claimed that the bin preverbal past tense marker may signify perfective aspect, as in You bin come from Calvert ‘You come (or, have come) from Calvert’ (Flint 1971: 3). However, bin in other areas may co-occur with the Kriol continuous aspect marker -bat, as

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in M…’e bin tellimbat R to go in that place E bin drown ‘M…kept telling R to go to the place where E went under’ (Eagleson, Kaldor and Malcolm 1982: 91). We have observed that bin does not signify perfective aspect in Kriol. It may, then, be that Flint’s example represents a relexification of the Standard English perfect form ‘you have come’ in a variety where restructuring towards Standard English is taking place. Progressive aspect is marked in Aboriginal English by the use of the present participle, normally without the auxiliary, as in I sitting down, he laughing, I sneakin. The auxiliary may be added where past tense marking is relevant, as in [they] was playin (Readdy 1961: 100). 3.1.5. Negation The auxiliary verb, where there is one, may be negated by not (often reduced to n [Sharpe 1977: 45]), e.g. You caan eatim raw. Otherwise, a negator (not, never and, in Central Australia, nomore [Koch 1991]) may precede the verb, as in Nail not float ‘The nail does not float’ or I ad no shirt on and bees never sting me ‘I had no shirt on and the bees didn’t sting me’. Double negatives are not uncommon, e.g. They didn’t have no shirt. 3.1.6. Forms of be The copula is very often absent in stative clauses, as in That a pretty snake ‘That’s a pretty snake,’ though sometimes bin may be used where the tense is relevant, as in I bin young fella den (Flint 1971: 3). The copula is not required to link a subject with its adjective complement, hence He blind ‘He’s blind’. The preferred way of forming existential clauses is also to avoid be in favour of got, as in E got some sand there ‘There is some sand’. Alternatively, such clauses may be verbless (Some sand there). As has been noted above, Aboriginal English does not characteristically use be to form progressive verb forms except in the past tense (see 3.1.4.) or to form negative statements (see 3.1.5.). The morphology of be is simplified, in that, in the past tense, was serves for all persons (see 3.1.1.; note also 3.1.8. below). 3.1.7. Parataxis The pattern observed in 2.1.7. is reflected to some extent in Aboriginal English, which does not make use of conjunctions as extensively as Standard English to link successive clauses. A Western Australian example is I try to shout for D… the win’ blow me, knock me over, so I fell an’ laid down ‘n I trieda git u’ ‘n win’ know me over again (Kaldor and Malcolm 1979: 414). In Queensland, Readdy (1961: 114) observed that the paratactic structure, with sentences following one

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another with only pauses in between, was the commonest in her data, and Flint (1968, 1971) observed the common occurrence of coordinated clauses linked only with pauses or and. A similar pattern was noted by Elwell (1977) in the Northern Territory: You can get kangaroo, you bring it someone meat, I’ll eat it. 3.1.8. Passive The passive occurs rarely in Aboriginal English. Active voice is used in contexts where Standard English might use the passive (e.g. A bee sting him ‘He was stung by a bee’). Where Aboriginal English speakers use the passive, they form it either without an auxiliary verb, as in Most books made of paper or with a form of the auxiliary verb get, as in Uncle Steve, he got hit. 3.1.9. Transitive Although the transitive verb suffix -im or -em is essentially a feature of creole rather than Aboriginal English, it has been reported as occurring in Aboriginal English among speakers from relatively remote areas of Queensland (Flint 1971), Central Australia (Koch 1991; Sharpe 1977) and Western Australia (Eagleson, Kaldor and Malcolm 1982: 91), as in I bin eatim up goanna ‘I ate up the goanna’ or We seeim buffalo got big horn ‘We saw a buffalo with big horns’ (Eagleson, Kaldor and Malcolm 1982: 91). 3.1.10. The adverb In common with other non-standard varieties of English, Aboriginal English may not use the -ly suffix on adverbs where it is required in Standard English, hence You can easy do it. On the other hand, Aboriginal English, following Australian creoles, may introduce its own suffixes to mark adverbs for manner or time, as in long-way, quick-way, north-way, wobbly-way, dark-time, all-time and late-time. 3.2.

Noun phrase

3.2.1. Determiners It has been observed by Holm (1988−1989: 191) that “[e]xcept for the decreolized varieties (e.g. Jamaican Creole English di ‘the’), the creoles appear not to have borrowed definite articles from the superstrate languages but rather to have created them anew from demonstratives and other particles.” We observed this trend in Australian creoles which commonly use variants of that and one where Standard English would use the definite and indefinite articles, respectively

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(2.2.1.). The tendency to substitute the demonstrative for the definite article is a commonly-reported feature of Aboriginal English (Readdy 1961; Eagleson 1977: 539; Flint 1968, 1971: 2; Alexander 1965: 65, 1968), as in Dat door bin close ‘The door closed’. The tendency to substitute one for the indefinite article is also often reported (Sharpe 1977; Readdy 1961: 100; Flint 1968, 1971: 2; Alexander 1965; Kaldor and Malcolm 1979: 422), as in They seen one green snake tangled round a tree ‘They saw a green snake tangled round a tree’ (Alexander 1965: 66). Articles are frequently omitted in contexts where they are required in Standard English (Flint 1968, 1971: 2), as in We was playing game, though they may also be apparently redundantly inserted, as in Bloke with the long hair (Kaldor and Malcolm 1979: 422). 3.2.2. Number It is a widespread feature of Aboriginal English not to mark the noun consistently for plural. Often, though the plural inflection is missing, the plurality of the noun is evident by other means, as in Some plum over there ‘There are some plums over there’; Two man in a jeep ‘There are two men in a jeep’ or ten dollar ‘ten dollars’. An alternative pluralizer -mob (from Kriol, see section 2.2.2.) may be used occasionally in some areas, as in clean water-mob ‘lots of clean water’ (Sharpe 1977). Some nouns which function as mass nouns in Standard English are count nouns in Aboriginal English and may therefore be pluralized, as with woods ‘bits of wood’, irons ‘pieces of iron’, dusts ‘clouds of dust’ (Sharpe 1977: 48), glasses ‘bits of glass’, or police ‘police officer’. Nouns with irregular plurals may still receive the regular noun plural morpheme, as in two childrens. 3.2.3. Gender The gender distinctions made in Standard English do not always apply in Aboriginal English. The third person singular personal and possessive pronoun forms may be used interchangeably between male and female referents, as in He a big girl ‘She’s a big girl’ and That he dress ‘That’s her dress’. In some areas e functions as a gender-inclusive pronoun form, hence My mother, when e gonna talk language e talk ‘When my mother intends to talk in Aboriginal language she does so’(Kaldor and Malcolm 1979: 422). 3.2.4. Possession Nouns tend not to be marked for possession with the -s suffix, especially in some areas. Hence, juxtaposition alone may enable possessive to be inferred in, for example, That my Daddy car or Look at John boat. In some areas, alternative possessive markers have been retained from creole, as in Gun belong to Hedley (Readdy

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1961: 100; cf. Koch 1991, 2000), Long time he was for my sister husband ‘A long time ago he was my sister’s husband’, or Rachel mob-for dog bin die ‘Rachel’s people’s dog died’ (Kaldor and Malcolm 1979: 422). As in Kriol (2.2.5.), personal pronouns may function as possessive adjectives without having possessive marking, as in im dog ‘his dog’. 3.2.5. Kin relation marking In Central Australian Aboriginal English, Koch (2000: 43−44) has observed the adoption of a new suffix which he calls a ‘kin relation marker’. The suffix is the term -gether (from ‘together’) and it essentially creates a kin dyad with the family member with which it is used. Hence, father-gether means the dyad of father and child, mother-gether, mother and child, brother-gether, elder brother and younger brother or sister, sister-gether, elder sister and younger brother or sister, and cousin-gether, a pair of cross-cousins, one of whom is male. These terms all have corresponding terms in the Kaytetye language. 3.2.6. Pronouns Aboriginal English speakers in some areas may transfer some creole personal pronoun forms into their speech. Aboriginal English as a whole, however, has a different system, as shown in Table 5. The forms shown bring together data from Queensland, the Northern Territory and Western Australia and exclude what seem likely to be unmodified transfers from creole. Certain creole-influenced forms have only been reported from Queensland and are therefore marked as such. This does not imply that the other forms do not occur in Queensland. The variation among forms may be less random than appears on the table, in that, for example, the me form of the subject pronoun is most likely to occur in multiple subjects (e.g. Me and Sharon). Table 5.

Personal pronouns of Aboriginal English Singular

first person

Dual

I ~ me (subj) me (obj)

Plural we ~ us

first person inclusive

we ~ afla (Qld) (S, O)

first person exclusive

mifela (Qld) (subj)

second person

you

you two, you-n-him (SE Qld)

you, youse you mob (SE Qld) youfla (Qld) (S, O)

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Table 5. (continued)

Personal pronouns of Aboriginal English Singular

third person

Dual

Plural

(h)e ~ (h)im (subj, dattufela ~ distufela masc/fem/inan) (NW Qld) (h)im (obj, masc/fem/ (subj, obj) inan) she (subj, fem) it (subj, pred, inan)

they, dey (subj) them, dem (subj, obj)

Personal pronouns, as mentioned above (3.2.4.), may often function as possessive pronouns in Aboriginal English. The possessive pronouns of Aboriginal English, where they differ from the personal pronouns, are shown in Table 6. Table 6.

Possessive pronouns of Aboriginal English

first person second person third person

Singular

Plural

my, moofla (Qld) your (h)is, (h)e’s, (h)er, its

our your their, deir

Aboriginal English reflexive pronouns in the third person tend to incorporate the possessive rather than the personal pronouns before the reflexive suffix, hence hisself ‘himself’; theirself, theirselves ‘themselves’. The pattern of reflexives is thus regularized in keeping with that of the first and second person reflexive pronouns. 3.2.7. Adjectives In Aboriginal English, adjectives may not be inflected for the comparative and superlative, though the superlative suffix -est may be used for emphasis, as in biggest mob o emus ‘a very big flock of emus’. The -est suffix may also be used in a way that would be considered redundant in Standard English, as in most rottenest (Eagleson 1977: 538). Some expressions that would need to be expressed predicatively in Standard English may be expressed attributively in Aboriginal English, as in long way country ‘a country far away’ (Flint 1971: 3). One influence from creole (and also, perhaps, from Indigenous languages) is the frequent use of nominalising suffixes on adjectives, as in black-one, hot-one, sweet-one, slippery-one, shorty-one, good-one, new-one, same-one (Bavin and Shopen 1985: 83).

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3.2.8. Prepositions Prepositions which are required in Standard English are often not required in Aboriginal English, as in We was gonna go Derby ‘We were going to go to Derby’ (Eagleson, Kaldor and Malcolm 1982: 100), or We bin wait loooong time ‘We waited for a very long time’ (Eades 1996: 134). The infinitive marker to may be omitted, as in I bin go dere work. The locative prepositions in, at and on may often be interchanged, omitted or, in some Kriol-influenced areas, replaced with la or longa, as in We always go la ol’ town ‘we always go to the old town’ or young guy longa book ‘the young man in the book’. Where two prepositions are required in Standard English, one may be used, i.e. up for ‘up at’, out for ‘out at’ (Alexander 1965: 66). 3.3.

Structure of sentences

3.3.1. Statements The basic statement form in Aboriginal English is, as in Standard English, following the SVO or S(V)C pattern. Variations from the basic word order are possible to serve the purposes of topicalization of a subject (as in ‘Yungagees’- da’s sort of a real way of sayin goanna [Malcolm 1995: iii]) or the expression of an “afterthought” as in five sheeps fat one ‘five fat sheep’ (Eagleson, Kaldor and Malcolm 1985: 104; cf. Koch 1991: 98; see further 3.3.6.). 3.3.2. Questions The inversion of subject and verb/auxiliary is much less common in Aboriginal English than in Standard English. Rather, questions may be indicated by intonation, as in You like banana? ‘Do you like bananas?’ or by the use of a final question tag. One of the most widespread tags is -eh, as in He can walk, eh? (cf. 2.3.2. above), but this may also be used with a falling intonation, in which case it functions not as a question marker but as a confirmation elicitation, as in We bin give you a lot of shell, eh ‚. Other tags which may be used in different areas to form questions include you know, init, inti, ina, na and ana. Questions may also be formed in Aboriginal English through the use of interrogative pronouns, though their use sometimes differs from Standard English, as in Who your name? ‘What is your name?’. 3.3.3. Embedding As in creole, embedded relative clauses may have no relative pronoun (Sharpe 1977; Readdy 1961: 100; Koch 1991). Where a relative pronoun is used, it may not be the same as in Standard English. In some contexts (e.g. Sydney), what may

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be used in place of the Standard English that, as in I got one mate what goes to a Catholic school. Generally, embedded clauses are not common in Aboriginal English, which (as noted in 3.1.7. above) prefers a paratactic arrangement of clauses. 3.3.4. Phrase and sentence repetition There is some evidence of a greater amount of repetition of phrases and sentences in Aboriginal English than in Standard English. This may be illustrated in the following extract: …when R go into hospital, mela bin get in; mela bin liar-cry. E bin cry for one doctor gonna take my toothache! E bin cry… ‘when R went to hospital we got in; we were pretending to cry. He was crying for a doctor to take away his toothache! He cried…’ (Eagleson, Kaldor and Malcolm 1982: 102). Sharpe (1976: 6) has observed that Queensland Aboriginal English is particularly prone to the repetition of phrases and sentences, and she sees this as a response on the part of its speakers to the unusually high utterance rate in that area, which may adversely affect intelligibility. The tolerance of repetition in Aboriginal English may be better understood as a discourse or pragmatic rather than a grammatical feature. 3.3.5. Predicate marking It was noted (2.3.5.) that in creoles, the predicate phrase may be signalled by a marker (usually derived from he or they). This phenomenon has been identified under many different names, including “nominal appositives” (Steffensen 1977), “concord particles” (Crowley and Rigsby 1979) and “pronominal cross-referencing”. The latter term is used by Elwell (1977) in describing a pattern in Aboriginal English as spoken in the Northern Territory, which she sees as corresponding to a structure within local languages. She exemplifies it as follows: If I find it kangaroo; We, all de kid, we going to somewhere we gonna play. The recovery of the subject in this way is not uncommon in nonstandard Australian English, and is also widespread in Aboriginal English in all areas, e.g. Dese um two boys dey’s teasing this owl ‘Two boys were teasing an owl’ (Kimberley, Western Australia); The policeman he heard this banging (Sydney) (Eagleson, Kaldor and Malcolm 1982: 232). 3.3.6. Post-sentence modification Aboriginal English shares with creoles a tendency towards post-sentence modification. This sometimes occurs with the use of a completion marker, such as finish or das all when a narrative has been concluded. It also is built into the grammar by means of a constraint on the amount of information which can be expressed within one clause. There are many examples of an “afterthought” structure (as referred to in 3.3.1.) being used, where some information is appended to, rather

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than included in, the clause. Some examples from Kaldor and Malcolm (1979: 423) are: This tree here close-up one; man make that fire smoky one; we bin see one bird, flying one. 3.3.7. Successive pronoun subject deletion It has frequently been observed (e.g. Readdy 1961: 114; Flint 1968, 1971) that subjects, once introduced, may not be repeated although there are successive verbs which relate to them. This may be particularly characteristic of narration. This is another aspect of parataxis (3.1.7.). 3.3.8. Associated motion An unusual feature of Aboriginal English has been related by Koch (2000) to the influence of Central Australian languages. This feature involves the use of what appear to be two main verbs in the sentence, as in Twofella bin go ‘n wait for …them bullock; or Nother mob go down long creek and go and drink water. Koch (2000: 49) sees such structures as enabling the expression of associated motion which may be prior to, immediately subsequent to, or concurrent with the main activity. The indigenous language influences leading to this feature may exist, or have existed, in languages beyond Central Australia, in that similar patterns have been recorded in Western Australia, for instance in the following exchange: A: B:

they go there chargin on don’t they yeah yeah go drinkin dere

3.3.9. Embedded observation A similar feature has been observed in both Central and Western Australian contexts, where the verb see is accompanied by another verb, as in I saw him was running behind me. This is not, in my view, embedding but rather fusion of I saw him and He was running behind me, and it relates to what, in my view, is the Indigenous Australian “cultural imperative” of reporting on one’s observations. The matter observed and the act of observation are given equal prominence in the manner of reporting. 4.

Practical and research issues

The use of Holm’s (1988−1989) categories for the account given in this chapter enables some comparisons to be made between Australian creoles and Atlantic creoles. The similarities, which further research could attempt to account for, include the reduced marking (by comparison with Standard English) of inflection

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on nouns and verbs, the use of an anterior tense marker derived from the verb be, the preverbal use of no or neva (but not gan) to mark negation, the reduced use (or non-use) of the copula in equative and adjectival constructions, the serial verb construction, the lack of a passive construction, the replacement of definite articles with demonstratives and indefinite articles with the numeral one, the expression of possession by juxtaposing nouns (though this is not the only way of expressing possession in Australian creoles), the use of a general locative to cover ‘in’, ‘at’ and ‘on’, the maintenance of SVO word order, and the marking of questions by intonation, tags or initial question markers. On the other hand, the morphosyntax of Australian creoles is distinctive in other ways. It does not use a form based on there to express progressive aspect, nor a form based on do to express habitual or completive aspect. It does not use the complementizer for, though it does perform the same function with forms based on personal pronouns. It has its own system of marking transitive verbs and it has a distinctive set of enclitics derived from English prepositions. The personal pronoun systems of Australian creoles seem to be distinctive in the strength of their recognition of the inclusive/exclusive and singular/dual/plural discriminations. As we have considered Australian creoles and Aboriginal English together in this description, it is possible also to make comparisons between the creoles and Aboriginal English. In many ways, as we would expect, the Aboriginal English forms come close to acrolectal forms in the creoles, but the similarities are greatest in areas where there is contemporary influence on Aboriginal English from the creoles. Aboriginal English as a whole does not maintain transitive verb marking, nor does it incorporate inclusive and exclusive forms in its pronoun system, though there is some evidence of a tendency to maintain ways of expressing duality. The tense of the verb, the number of the noun subject, the number and gender of the pronoun are all much less salient in Aboriginal English than in Standard English morphology. The marking of verb tense preverbally is strongly maintained with respect to the future tense and selectively maintained with respect to the past tense. While Aboriginal English does not fully maintain the systems of adjective and adverb marking (-taim, -wei) of the creoles, it does carry these systems over to some extent, as it does the system of enclitics (as seen in expressions like learn up), and it does commonly use that/dat in place of the and one in place of a. There is also a marked reluctance among Aboriginal English speakers to use the verb to be as copula or auxiliary, except to mark the past tense. The question of the indebtedness of Aboriginal English to Indigenous languages, both those still spoken and those which formed the original substrate of the pidgins from which it developed, has been pursued by a number of scholars. Harkins (1994) and Sharpe (1976), among others, have argued that this indebtedness is considerable. It can be demonstrated not only in phonology, morphology and syntax, but, perhaps more strongly, in pragmatics and semantics.

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Much of the research reported on here dates back several decades, indicating that the study of the morphology and syntax of Australian creoles and Aboriginal English have not been the focus of much contemporary attention. The emphasis of research has shifted from grammatical analysis to the analysis of discourse, genre, lexico-semantics and conceptualization, and to the more applied areas of literacy, bilingual and bidialectal education and the use of these varieties in crosscultural communication especially in legal contexts. These areas are important in extending the understanding the dynamics of the restructuring and management of English by Aboriginal speakers, but do not come within the purview of this chapter.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Alexander, Diane H. 1965 Yarrabah Aboriginal English. B.A. Honours thesis, Department of English, University of Queensland. 1968 Woorabinda Australian Aboriginal English. M.A. thesis, Department of English, University of Queensland, St Lucia. Bavin, Edith and Timothy Shopen 1985 Warlpiri and English: languages in contact. In: Michael Clyne (ed.), Australia, Meeting Place of Languages, 81–94. Canberra: Australian National University Press. Crowley, Terry and Bruce Rigsby 1979 Cape York Creole. In: Timothy Shopen (ed.), Languages and Their Status, 153−207. Cambridge, MA: Winthrop. Dutton, Thomas 1970 Informal English in the Torres Straits. In: William S. Ramson (ed.), English Transported: Essays on Australasian English, 137−160. Canberra: Australian National University Press. Eades, Diana 1996 Aboriginal English. In: Stephen A. Wurm, Peter Mühlhäusler and Darrell T. Tryon (eds.), Atlas of Languages of Intercultural Communication in the Pacific, Asia and the Americas, Volume 2.1, 133–141. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Eagleson, Robert 1977 English and the urban Aboriginal. Meanjin 4: 535–544. Eagleson, Robert D., Susan Kaldor and Ian G. Malcolm 1982 English and the Aboriginal Child. Canberra: Curriculum Development Centre.

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Elwell, Vanessa M. R. 1977 Multilingualism and Lingua Francas among Australian Aborigines: a case study of Maningrida. B.A. Honours thesis, Australian National University, Canberra. Flint, Elwyn 1968 Aboriginal English: linguistic description as an aid to teaching. English in Australia 6: 3–22. Flint, Elwyn H. 1971 The Aboriginal English of informants in the 40−60+ age group in a far North-Western Queensland community. Paper presented to the 43rd ANZAAS Congress, Brisbane. Fraser, Jill 1977 A phonological analysis of Fitzroy Crossing Children’s Pidgin. Work Papers of SIL-AAB A 1: 145−204. Harkins, Jean 1994 Bridging Two Worlds: Aboriginal English and Cross-Cultural Understanding. St Lucia: University of Queensland Press. Hudson, Joyce 1981 Grammatical and semantic aspects of Fitzroy Valley Kriol. M.A. thesis, Australian National University, Canberra. Kaldor, Susan and Ian G. Malcolm 1979 The language of the school and the language of the Western Australian Aboriginal schoolchild – implications for education. In: Ronald M. Berndt and Catherine H. Berndt (eds.), Aborigines of the West: Their Past and Their Present, 406–437. Perth: University of Western Australia Press. Koch, Harold 1991 Language and communication in Aboriginal land claim hearings. In: Suzanne Romaine (ed.), Language in Australia, 94–103. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2000 Central Australian Aboriginal English in comparison with the morphosyntactic categories of Kaytetye. Asian Englishes 3: 32−58. Malcolm, Ian G. 1995 Language and Communication Enhancement for Two-Way Education. Mount Lawley, Western Australia: Edith Cowan University, in collaboration with the Education Department of Western Australia. Readdy, Coral 1961 South Queensland Aboriginal English. B.A. Honours thesis, Department of English, University of Queensland, St Lucia. Sandefur, John R. 1979 An Australian Creole in the Northern Territory: A Description of NgukurrBamyili Dialects (Part 1). Work Papers of SIL-AAB, Series B, Volume 3. Darwin: Summer Institute of Linguistics. 1991a A sketch of the structure of Kriol. In: Suzanne Romaine (ed.), Language in Australia, 204−212. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1991b The problem of the transparency of Kriol. In: Ian G. Malcolm (ed.), Linguistics in the Service of Society: Essays to Honour Susan Kaldor, 115−129. Perth: Institute of Applied Language Studies, Edith Cowan University.

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Sharpe, Margaret C. 1976 The English of Alice Springs Aboriginal Children: Report to Teachers, Part 1. Alice Springs: Traeger Park Primary School. 1977 Alice Springs Aboriginal English. In: Ed Brumby and Eric Vaszolyi (eds.), Language Problems and Aboriginal Education, 45–50. Mount Lawley, Western Australia: Aboriginal Teacher Education Program, Mount Lawley College of Advanced Education. Sharpe, Margaret C. and John Sandefur 1976 The creole language of the Katherine and Roper River areas, Northern Territory. In: Michael Clyne (ed.), Australia Talks: Essays on the Sociology of Australian Immigrant and Aboriginal Languages, 63–77. Research School of Pacific Studies, Australian National University. 1977 A brief description of Roper Creole. In: Ed Brumby and Eric Vaszolyi (eds.), Language Problems and Aboriginal Education, 51−60. Mount Lawley, Western Australia: Aboriginal Teacher Education Program, Mount Lawley College of Advanced Education. Shnukal, Anna 1988 Broken: An Introduction to the Creole Language of Torres Strait. Canberra: Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies, Australian National University. 1991 Torres Strait Creole. In: Suzanne Romaine (ed.), Language in Australia, 180– 194. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Steffensen, Margaret 1977 A Description of Bamyili Creole. Darwin: Department of Education.

Bislama: morphology and syntax* Terry Crowley

1.

Introduction

Bislama is a predominantly English-lexifier radically restructured contact language – also described as a pidgin or a creole – that is spoken as the constitutionally declared national language of Vanuatu alongside eighty or so local vernaculars. For more details of the historical and sociolinguistic background of Bislama, see the accompanying chapter on Bislama phonetics and phonology (Crowley, other volume). In keeping with pidgins and creoles in general, Bislama exhibits morphological reduction vis-à-vis English. None of the inflectional morphology of English has survived into Bislama as productive processes. Some inflectional suffixes have survived, though these have been reanalyzed as inseparable parts of noun and verb roots in Bislama, e.g. anis ‘ant’ (< ant-s), prestem ‘press’ (< press-ed ‘em). The inflectional categories of English nouns and verbs are either not marked at all in Bislama, or they are marked syntactically by means of phrase-level modifiers of some kind. The past tense suffix on English verbs is systematically lost, with the distinction between present I float and I floated being expressed by the absence versus presence of a pre-verbal auxiliary bin (< been), i.e. mi flot and mi bin flot. The suffixed plural markers on English nouns are again systematically lost, and plural is distinguished from singular by means of the preposed plural marker ol (< all), e.g. trak ‘car’ and ol trak ‘cars’. The suffixed genitive marker on English nouns is expressed in Bislama by means of a prepositional construction with the possessor noun introduced by blo(ng) (which derives from the English verb belong). Thus, ‘Kali’s car’ is expressed as trak blo(ng) Kali. Further discussion of each of these constructions can be found in the relevant sections below. Productive patterns of derivational morphology in English have also been lost or reduced to largely unproductive status. A nominalized verbal construction such as my swimming saved me, for example, is not expressed in Bislama by means of a gerund. Rather, the only option for encoding such a meaning is to recast this construction in terms of the underlying verb, as in (1): (1)

Mi bin swim mo i mekem mi sef. ‘I swam and it saved me (i.e. made me safe).’

Verb-noun pairs such as demonstret ‘demonstrate’ and demonstresen ‘demonstration’ involve processes that are less than fully predictable in English. With a much

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smaller proportion of the lexicon of Bislama comprizing “learned” vocabulary such as this for most the population, such patterns are arguably even less productive in Bislama. Most of the derivational morphology that we find in Bislama represents new developments out of material that began as lexical forms in English rather than continuations of superstrate morphological patterns. Thus, the third person singular masculine object pronoun him has been reanalyzed in Bislama as a transitive marker on verbs which has come to acquire a causative function. Compare, therefore, the following: (2)

Wota i boel. ‘The water is boiling.’

(3)

Kali i boelem wota. ‘Kali boiled the water.’

Other examples of lexical forms which have been morphologized in Bislama are discussed below. To date, there has been no publicly available comprehensive grammatical account of the language. Tryon (1987) adopts a pedagogical approach and presents some of the main patterns, though many details (and much variation) are ignored. Other substantial sources (e.g. Crowley 1990: 200–351; Meyerhoff 2000) concentrate only on selected aspects of the grammar without aiming to be comprehensive. Given the restriction on length imposed on this chapter, the following discussion, too, cannot be exhaustive, and many interesting (and poorly described) features have necessarily been dealt with extremely briefly. The main features of the morphology and syntax of Bislama are presented in a way that allows for comparison with varieties such as Solomons Pijin and Tok Pisin, as well as other varieties of English covered in this Handbook. There are various structures in Bislama which are markedly different from those of English for which mention is made of significant similarities between Bislama and the Oceanic substrate.

2.

Nominal morphology

Nominal compounds are common in Bislama. A variety of patterns can be found, with one of the commonest being adjective + noun constructions, e.g. smol-traosis ‘underwear’ (< smol ‘little’ + traosis ‘shorts’), swit-blad ‘diabetes’ (< swit ‘sweet’ + blad ‘blood’). The boundary between word-level and phrase-level phenomena plagues any discussion of compounding in Bislama (as it does in many languages), especially when we consider that a single-word form such as long-nek ‘reef heron’ (< long ‘long’ + nek ‘neck’) means exactly the same as the two-word form longfala nek (see section 4.2. for a discussion of the adjectival suffix -fala). There is a

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handful of compound nouns derived instead on the basis of noun + adjective order, e.g. sik-nogud ‘venereal disease’ (< sik ‘disease’ + nogud ‘bad’). An additional small number of compounds is built up of an initial element that is a verb with a following noun, e.g. stil-man ‘thief’ (< stil ‘steal’ + man ‘man, person’). There is a large number of compounds which involve two nouns together. Longer established compounds are typically formed on the basis of HEAD + MODIFIER order, as in sos-pima ‘chilli sauce’ (< sos ‘sauce’ + pima ‘chilli’), lif-kokonas ‘coconut frond’ (< lif ‘leaf’ + kokonas ‘coconut’), following the construction that is typically found in Oceanic languages. However, more recently formed compounds tend to follow the MODIFIER + HEAD order that we find in English, e.g. turis-bot ‘cruise vessel’ (< turis ‘tourist’ + bot ‘boat’), stori-haos ‘multi-storey building’ (< stori ‘storey’ + haos ‘house, building’). Some nouns appear with constituents in either order in free variation, e.g. gras-nil and nil-gras ‘Mimosa pudica’ (< gras ‘grass’ + nil ‘thorn, prickle’).

3.

Pronouns

There is a single set of pronouns in Bislama, in contrast to the separate subject, object and possessive pronouns of English. Subject and object forms are distinguished by position vis-à-vis the verb, while possession is expressed by means of the same pronominal forms appearing after the possessive preposition blo(ng). Thus: (4)

Mi bin salem trak blo(ng) yu. ‘I sold your car.’

The pronoun system of Bislama marks a radically different set of contrasts to those categories that are formally marked in Standard English. The three-way gender distinction in the third person singular is lost with Bislama having the gender-neutral pronoun hem. The two-way number distinction of English has been expanded in Bislama into a four-way distinction between singular, dual, trial and plural. In the first person non-singular forms, there also is a systematic distinction in Bislama between inclusive and exclusive pronouns. We therefore find the paradigm set out in Table 1.1. Table 1.1. Bislama pronouns Singular 1

mi

2 3

yu hem

Inclusive Exclusive

Dual

Trial

Plural

yumitu(fala) mitufala yutufala tufala

yumitrifala mitrifala yutrifala trifala

yumi mifala yufala ol(geta)

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The English origin of the forms of these pronouns should be obvious, i.e. mi < me, hem < him, yumi < you + me, yufala < you + fellows. The source of some of the categories that are marked, however, is clearly not English in origin. The substrate Oceanic languages involved in the initial formation of Bislama typically make exactly the same kinds of categorial distinctions that we find in Bislama, so this aspect of the pronoun paradigm is very likely to be of substrate origin. It will be obvious from this paradigm that there are some recurring formal similarities between different pronouns. Non-singular pronouns often – though by no means always – involve the element -fala, obviously deriving from English fellow(s). The dual and trial forms are all derived with the elements -tu and -tri respectively, which correspond in shape to the numerals tu ‘two’ and tri ‘three’ respectively in Bislama. However, these numerals have clearly been grammaticalized in this paradigm, as other numerals cannot be incorporated into pronouns in the same way. A pronoun referring to six individuals, for instance, must be expressed by means of a numeral postmodifier in conjunction with a plural pronoun, e.g. mifala sikis ‘we (exclusive) six’, and not *misikisfala.

4.

Noun phrases

Noun phrases can consist of a nominal or pronominal head associated with a range of modifiers, as described in turn under the following headings. 4.1.

Quantifiers

Nouns can be preceded by the number marker ol ‘plural’, or any of the following quantifiers: olgeta ‘all’, evri ‘each, every’, fulap, plande, staka ‘many’, eni ‘any’, sam ‘some’, tumas ‘a lot, too much of, too many of’, naf ‘enough’. We therefore find examples such as ol man ‘people, men’, olgeta man ‘all the people/men’, evri man ‘each/every man’, fulap man ‘many people’. We sometimes find the pluralizer ol redundantly appearing in association with some of these other quantifiers, with ol generally appearing closest to the noun, e.g. fulap ol man ‘many people’. Also appearing before nouns are the numerals, e.g. sikis woman ‘six women’, as well as the interrogative hamas ‘how much, how many’, e.g. hamas trak ‘how many cars’. These forms do not co-occur with the plural marker ol, i.e. *sikis ol woman. Numerals differ from the quantifiers described in the preceding paragraph in that they can accept the adjectival suffix -fala (see section 4.2.), e.g. sikis-fala trak ‘the six cars’. Pronouns differ from nouns in that they do not accept noun phrase premodifiers. However, some of the premodifiers presented above can be used as postmodifiers in association with pronouns. This includes any of the numerals, e.g. mifala

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sikis ‘six of us (exclusive)’, olgeta hamas ‘how many of them’. Some of the other nominal premodifiers also appear as pronominal postmodifiers, e.g. yufala plande ‘many of you’. The nominal premodifier evri corresponds to the pronominal postmodifier evriwan, e.g. yumi evriwan ‘each one of us (inclusive)’. 4.2.

Adjectives

Most adjectives precede the noun phrase head in Bislama, e.g. stret ansa ‘correct answer’, rabis tingting ‘terrible idea’, sting mit ‘rotten meat’. There is, however, a small subset of adjectives which follow the head, e.g. man nogud ‘bad person’, haos olbaot ‘ordinary house’. There is a preference for only a single adjective to be associated with a noun in Bislama, so a complex phrase such as big black dog in English is likely to be expressed in Bislama with one attribute expressed by means of an adjective and the other expressed in a relative clause, e.g. big-fala dog we i blak ‘big dog which is black’. There is a subset of premodifying adjectives which can accept the suffix -fala, which represents the morphologization of the noun fellow in English. One of the functions of the suffix -fala is to indicate that the quality expressed by the adjective is especially characteristic of the referent of the noun with which it is associated. Contrast gud wok ‘good job’ and gud-fala wok ‘especially good job’. The same suffix can also be used to mark definiteness of a noun phrase, as in (5): (5)

Mi karem wan waet trak. Waetfala trak ya i stap long garaj. ‘I have a white car. That white car is in the garage.’

Adjectives which accept this suffix are predominantly, though by no means exclusively, monosyllabic. It should be pointed out that there are also monosyllabic adjectives which do not accept this suffix. Thus, while we encounter forms such as sot-fala ‘short’, naes-fala ‘nice’ and swit-fala ‘sweet’, we find only hot ‘hot’, wael ‘wild’ and drae ‘dry’, never *hot-fala, *wael-fala and *drae-fala. Adjectives can also fairly freely accept the derivational suffix -wan which has arisen out of the morphologization of English one. This creates nouns out of adjectives, where the noun usually refers to an entity characterized by the quality expressed in the adjectival root, e.g. smol ‘small’ > smol-wan ‘small one’. For many speakers, -fala and -wan are mutually exclusive, though younger speakers are increasingly able to add the nominalizing suffix -wan to an adjective carrying -fala where that suffix performs the characterizing function referred to above. Contrast, therefore, sot-wan ‘short one’ and sot-fala-wan ‘especially short one’. Adjectives often reduplicate according to the same formal patterns that are described in section 5.1. for verbs. In fact, given the lack of inflectional morphology in Bislama, it is often difficult in any case to draw a rigid distinction between

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adjectives and intransitive verbs. Adjectives are often reduplicated when they are associated with plural rather than singular nouns, e.g. longfala plang ‘long plank’, ol long-longfala plang ‘long planks’. Another function of adjectival reduplication is to express concentration of a quality, e.g. fas ‘stuck’ > fas-fas ‘well and truly stuck’. 4.3.

Demonstrative

Bislama has only a single demonstrative form, and it has additional functions as well. The form ya (< ‘here’) appears after a nominal head. This can simply express definiteness, e.g. man ya ‘the man’, or it can perform a general demonstrative function (making no reference to number), meaning ‘this man/person’ or ‘that man/person’ (or, with the plural phrase ol man ya, ‘these men/people’ or ‘those men/people’). In order to disambiguate the multiple senses of ya, we sometimes find the proximate demonstrative sense being expressed as ya nao ‘this/these’ and the distant demonstrative sense as ya lo(ng)we ‘that/those’, e.g. trak ya nao ‘this car’, ol trak ya lo(ng)we ‘those cars’. 4.4.

Complex noun phrases

Coordinate noun phrases can also be linked in the same way as clausal coordination, using the coordinator mo, e.g. Kali mo Janet ‘Kali and Janet’. There are, however, other options available for the expression of noun phrase coordination. One possibility is to use the accompanitive preposition wetem ‘with’, e.g. Kali wetem Janet. Where a pronoun is coordinated with a noun, a rather different construction can be used in which a non-singular pronoun representing the sum of the coordinated noun phrases is preposed to the noun. Thus, the meaning Janet and I can be expressed in Bislama in one of three ways: mi mo Janet, mi wetem Janet, mitufala Janet. Relative clauses in Bislama are introduced by the relativizer we, e.g. tija we i toktok ‘the teacher who is talking’. Relativized non-subject noun phrases are marked by means of a pronominal copy at the site of the deleted co-referential noun phrase, as in (6): (6)

Mi harem tija we ol studen oli laekem hem. ‘I hear the teacher who the students like.’

Bislama allows noun phrases from a wide range of structural positions to be relativized. The following, for example, illustrates the relativization of a prepositional object: (7)

Mi harem tija we ol studen oli givim buk lo hem. ‘I hear the teacher who the students gave the book to.’

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5.

Verb morphology

As mentioned above, there is no inflectional morphology in Bislama. The productive morphological processes involving Bislama verb morphology are all derivational in nature. 5.1.

Reduplication

Although reduplication is not a productive feature of English morphology, it is quite commonly encountered in Bislama verbal morphology. Although the substrate languages also exhibit fairly productive patterns of verbal reduplication, both the forms and functions of reduplication tend to be somewhat constrained in the world’s languages, so this is perhaps an area of Bislama grammar where a search for a substrate origin is not totally convincing. A variety of different patterns of reduplication are encountered in Bislama, both from the perspective of the forms that it takes and the functions that it expresses. Reduplication is normally partial rather than full, involving the repetition of material from the first syllable or the first two syllables of the verb root. Since there are relatively few verb roots longer than two syllables, many instances of reduplication are actually indeterminate between the two patterns, e.g. ron ‘run’ > ron-ron. Partial reduplication covers a range of possibilities, including repetition of only an initial syllable, e.g. fogivim ‘forgive’ > fo-fogivim, brekem ‘break’ > brebrekem, faetem ‘punch’ > fae-faetem. An additional pattern involves repetition of initial CV(V) along with a following consonant, e.g. kilim ‘kill’ > kil-kilim, jenis ‘change’ > jen-jenis, laekem ‘like’ > laek-laekem, save ‘know’ > sav-save. Reduplication occasionally also involves the repetition of material from the second syllable along with the repetition of the initial syllable, e.g. difren ‘be different’ > difre-difren. A root can reduplicate on more than one of these patterns at the same time. Thus, brok ‘break’ can reduplicate as bro-brok or as brok-brok. Some roots also appear in slightly different shapes involving the optional presence of epenthetic vowels between initial consonant clusters, resulting in competing reduplicated forms such as the following: s(i)mol ‘be small’ > smol-smol, smo-smol, si-simol, sim-simol. Verbal reduplication expresses a range of functions in Bislama, including the following: – random or distributed action, e.g. foldaon ‘fall’ > fol-foldaon ‘fall all over the place’ – habitual action, e.g. giaman ‘tell lie’ > giam-giaman ‘tell lies all the time’ – reciprocal action, e.g. save ‘know’ > sav-save ‘know each other’

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No single pattern of reduplication is associated with any specific function, so if a verb is reduplicated according to more than one pattern (as is frequently the case), these forms may be associated with any of these functions. 5.2.

Suffixation

The frequently encountered verbal suffix /-Vm/ alternates in shape in ways that were described in the chapter on Bislama phonetics and phonology (Crowley, other volume). These morphophonemic alternations represent a significant point of contrast between Bislama on the one hand and Solomons Pijin and Tok Pisin on the other, where such alternations are either less apparent, or simply non-existent. This suffix is regularly attached to transitive verbs in Bislama. We therefore encounter intransitive-transitive pairs such as kuk ‘cook (intr.)’ > kuk-um ‘cook (tr.)’, stil ‘steal (intr.)’ > stil-im ‘steal (tr.)’, smok ‘smoke (intr.)’ > smok-em ‘smoke (tr.), skras ‘itch’ > skras-em ‘scratch, scrape’. Many transitive verbs ending in this suffix do not have corresponding unsuffixed intransitive forms so the verb invariably appears with this suffix, e.g. kar-em ‘carry’, tal-em ‘tell’, sper-em ‘spear’. Sometimes, the root of a verb carrying the transitive suffix is not an intransitive verb but belongs instead to some other word class. Thus, corresponding to melek-em ‘extract cream out of (grated coconut)’ and hama-rem ‘hammer (tr.)’ we find melek ‘coconut cream’ and hama ‘hammer (noun)’ respectively. This transitive suffix is so productive that any newly introduced transitive verb from English will automatically appear with the suffix, e.g. imel-em ‘email (someone)’. However, there is a small subset of transitive verbs which irregularly appear without any transitive suffix, including kakae ‘eat, bite’, dring ‘drink’, luk ‘see’, save ‘know’, tokbaot ‘discuss’, lego ‘leave’, gat ‘have’. Some of these verbs can be used both transitively and intransitively with no change in shape. There is a further subset of transitive verbs which alternate between carrying the suffix /-Vm/ and having no suffix with no change of function or meaning, e.g. singaot(-em) ‘call (tr.)’, seraot(-em) ‘distribute’. Bislama verb morphology also involves an additional order of derivational suffixes of the shapes -ap, -daon and -aot. These derive from the particles up, down and out which are frequently encountered in English phrasal verb constructions, though they have been reanalyzed as suffixes in Bislama. We therefore find examples such as res-em-ap ‘raise up’, kat-em-daon ‘cut down’ and poen-em-aot ‘point out’. While many forms of this type represent straightforward morphologizations of English phrasal verb collocations, some represent genuine new creations in Bislama, e.g. tal-em-aot ‘report on’ (< tal-em ‘tell’ + -aot ‘out’). Note that, in contrast to English, these forms are completely inseparable from the verb with which they are associated, thus only (8a), but not (8b):

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(8)

a. Bae mi left-em-ap yu. b. *Bae mi left-em yu ap. ‘I will lift you up.’

6.

Verb phrases

A verb phrase without any associated pre-verbal markers can be used in the expression of any tense if appropriate contextual clues are available. A form such as mi go, for example, could be used to express present, past or future tense. However, it is much more common for future tense to be overtly marked by bae (see below) rather than being left unmarked. An unmarked verb for which there are no contextual clues providing information about tense will normally be interpreted as being realis (present or past) rather than irrealis. Imperative verbs can also be expressed by means of unmarked verbs. With a singular imperative, the bare verb may be used, although the singular second person pronoun may precede this, e.g. (yu) go ‘go!’. With non-singular referents in the imperative, it is normal to include the relevant non-singular second person pronouns, e.g. yufala go ‘you (all) go!’. Such imperatives are all fairly brusque. Less impolite imperatives can be expressed by using the corresponding future constructions as imperatives, e.g. bae yu go ‘go!’, even more polite imperatives are expressed by using the verb traem ‘try’ before the verb in question, e.g. (yu) traem go ‘please go!’, or by using the adverbial fastaem ‘first’, e.g. kam fastaem ‘please come!’. It is worth noting that this use of traem represents a significant contrast with English for which there are widespread parallels in the substrate languages. Prohibitives are expressed by means of the regular negative forms, i.e. no go ‘don’t go!’, yufala no go ‘don’t you all go!’, bae yu no go ‘don’t go!’, traem no go ‘please don’t go!’. There is a variety of pre- and post-verbal modifiers that go to make up a verb phrase in Bislama. Those forms which appear immediately before a verb include mas ‘must’, bin ‘past (or prior past)’, jas ‘immediate past’, save ‘abilitative, permissive’, stap ‘continuous, habitual’, wandem ‘desiderative, immediate future’, traem ‘try’, finis ‘completive’, stat ‘inceptive’. Immediately before these pre-verbal modifiers we find the negative marker no, which can be combined with the emphatic negative marker nating or wanpis appearing after the verb, e.g. yu no save kam ‘you cannot come’, mi no bin toktok nating ‘I didn’t talk at all’. When the postmodifier form yet ‘still’ appears in conjunction with the pre-verbal negative marker it means ‘not yet’. Compare, therefore: mi go yet ‘I am still going’ and mi no go yet ‘I haven’t gone yet’. There is also a future marker of the shape bae which behaves somewhat differently in that it typically appears immediately before the subject of the verb rather

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than appearing between the subject and the verb. Contrast, therefore, bae mi kam ‘I will come’ with mi mas kam ‘I must come’. The corresponding form in Tok Pisin has grammaticalized beyond its behaviour in Bislama and it now appears also between the subject and the verb. Equivalent sentences such as *mi bae go as an alternative to bae mi go are ungrammatical in Bislama. Some of these pre-verbal modifiers in Bislama tend to undergo phonological erosion. In particular, save is often reduced in shape to sae, stap to sta and wandem to wande. The form bae sometimes also reduces to the proclitic b- when followed by a vowel-initial form. Thus, bae oli kam ‘they will come’ may sometimes be heard as b-oli kam. In addition to the post-verbal modifiers yet, nating and wanpis, we find the perfective marker finis, e.g. mi go finis ‘I have gone’. Also appearing post-verbally, there is a range of modifiers which perform a range of adverbial functions, including forms such as gud ‘properly’, nogud ‘wrongly’, krangki ‘wrongly’, stret ‘correctly’ and strong ‘strongly, hard’. These frequently appear between the verb and a following object: (9)

Bae mi pulum strong rop ya. ‘I will pull the rope hard.’

(10)

Mi mas talemaot gud ansa. ‘I must reveal the answer properly.’

However, adverbial modifiers can also be expressed by means of the core-layer serial verb construction described in section 8.1., as in (11): (11)

Bae mi pulum rop ya i strong.

7.

Simple sentences

7.1.

“Predicate marking”

Before we can discuss sentence structure, there is one aspect of the grammar which needs to be outlined first. There is no general agreement about the most appropriate way of describing “predicate marking” in Bislama. The section heading here is presented in inverted commas to indicate the unsatisfactory nature of some aspects of the analysis, while at the same time using a term that many Melanesian Pidgin specialists will immediately recognize. The treatment in this section will be necessarily sketchy, and readers are referred to the extensive literature on the subject in Melanesian Pidgin for more detailed information (see also Smith, this volume). Between many categories of subject and a following verb in Bislama we find the unstressed particle i, e.g. hem i go ‘(s)he went’, mitufala i go ‘we (exclusive) went’, tufala i go ‘the two of them went’, Janet i go ‘Janet went’. This form is sys-

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tematically excluded after the subject pronouns mi ‘I’ and yu ‘you’, e.g. mi go ‘I went’, yu go ‘you went’. The form i frequently appears as oli after a plural nominal subject, and also after the third person plural pronoun subject olgeta ‘they’, e.g. ol woman oli go ‘the women went’, olgeta oli go ‘they went’. Many descriptions of Melanesian Pidgin have referred to i and oli in examples such as these as “predicate markers”, which implies that these forms appear between a subject and a following predicate. Others have referred to these forms as “subject referencing pronouns”, drawing an analogy between the behaviour of these forms and the inflectional subject cross-reference markers that are widely encountered in Oceanic languages. Such an analysis would be consistent with the fact that in addition to mi go ‘I went’, we also find mi mi go, where the first instance of mi is treated as a subject pronoun, while the second mi represents the subject referencing pronoun. 7.2.

Constituent order

Bislama, like English and the majority of the substrate Oceanic languages, is an SVO language, e.g. mi stap ronron ‘I jog’, mi laekem yu ‘I like you’. Third person singular pronominal objects are often expressed by means of zero rather than the pronoun hem, especially when they have inanimate rather than animate reference, which means that SV transitive constructions such as the following are frequently found: mi laekem ‘I like it’. In the same way, third person singular subjects are often omitted, with the only signal of the subject category being the predicate marker i before the verb. Thus, in alternation with hem i laekem ‘(s)he likes it’ we may find a transitive clause consisting of just a verb phrase, i.e. i laekem ‘(s)he likes it’. Non-subject noun phrases can be fronted to pre-subject position to express contrast. Thus, from mi laekem taro ‘I like taro’ we can derive taro mi laekem ‘I like taro’. Constituents that have been fronted in this way are very often followed by the focus marker nao, e.g. taro nao mi laekem. When a singular inanimate noun such as taro is fronted in this way, there is typically no pronominal trace left behind at the original site of the shifted noun phrase. However, with a plural noun phrase, or with a noun phrase with animate reference, there will normally be a pronominal trace. Thus, from mi laekem ol taro ya ‘I like those taros’ we can derive ol taro ya (nao) mi laekem olgeta, while from mi laekem yu ‘I like you’, we can derive yu (nao) mi laekem yu. Although the examples just presented involve movement from the verbal object position, noun phrases can be moved from any non-subject position of the clause. Prepositional objects can therefore also be readily fronted in the same way. Thus from mi wokbaot wetem stik ya ‘I walked with that stick’ we can derive stik ya (nao) mi wokbaot wetem. The comment just made about zero pronominal copy with inanimate singular nouns does not apply with the prepositions lo(ng) and blo(ng). Fronted noun phrases associated with these two prepositions must always

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be marked by means of a pronominal copy. In contrast to the example just presented, from trak ya lowe blo man ya ‘that car is that man’s’ we can derive man ya (nao) trak ya lowe blo hem, but not *man ya (nao) trak ya lowe blo. Bislama discourse allows other focussed noun phrases to appear before the subject of a clause, again with optional marking by nao. It is not uncommon to find constructions such as the following: (12)

Mifala (nao) ol jif oli toktok tumas.

The subject of this clause is ol jif ‘the chiefs’ and the associated predicate is oli toktok tumas ‘(they) talk too much’. The noun phrase mifala ‘we (exclusive)’ which appears at the beginning of the clause does not represent a fronted constituent. Rather, this form appears here simply to indicate that the following clause is understood with respect to ‘us’. The only possible translation of such a sentence in English would therefore be: (12)′

‘With respect to us, the chiefs talk too much.’

Bislama does not have a copula corresponding to the English verb to be. Equational sentences are therefore expressed as non-verbal constructions with the topic and comment noun phrases juxtaposed with no intervening verb: (13)

Mi tija blo boe blo yu. ‘I am your son’s teacher.’

With a nominal topic, there is likely to be a “predicate marker” appearing between the two constituents: (14)

Tija blo skul i no man blo smok. ‘The teacher of the school is not a smoker.’

However, it is probably more common for an equational sentence to be expressed with a nominal topic to be followed by a pronoun, which is then followed by the predicate introduced by the “predicate marker”, as in (15): (15)

Tija blo skul hem i no man blo smok.

A significant structural difference between Bislama and English is the absence of a passive construction in Bislama. The functional equivalent of the agentless passive in English involves the use of the plural “predicate marker” oli with no overt (or even implied) subject noun phrase. Thus, an English sentence such as ‘My car was stolen’ is expressed in Bislama as: (16)

Oli stil-im trak blo mi.

If such a sentence were to include an overt third person plural subject, as in olgeta oli stili-im trak blo mi, this could only mean ‘they (i.e. some particular individuals) stole my car’.

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The functional equivalent of an English passive construction with an overtly expressed agent, e.g. ‘my car was stolen by the youth’, involves the fronting of the focussed object in an otherwise normal active transitive construction in Bislama. Thus, corresponding to boe ya i stil-im trak blo mi ‘the youth stole my car’ we find the following as the functional equivalent of the passive construction in English: (17)

Trak blo mi (nao), boe ya i stil-im.

7.3.

Prepositional phrases

Bislama has only a fairly small set of prepositions, in common with many of the Oceanic languages which make up its substrate. The prepositions, and the range of functions that they express, are listed below. (i) long: This preposition generally appears in casual speech as lo, which often reduces further to the proclitic l- when the following word begins with a vowel. Thus: lo trak ‘in the car’, l-ofis ‘in the office’. The longer form long is what we generally encounter in written Bislama though it is sometimes also encountered in speech, especially before a word beginning with a vowel. This preposition expresses a wide range of functions including location, e.g. mi wok lo Vila ‘I work in Vila’, goal, e.g. mi go lo taon ‘I am going to town’, source, e.g. mi kambak lo taon ‘I am returning from town’, and instrument, e.g. mi katem bred lo naef ‘I am cutting bread with the knife’. This preposition also precedes a patient noun phrase that follows a formally intransitive verb, allowing it to function as a pseudo-object, e.g. mi rato long ol lif ‘I raked the leaves’. This preposition effectively functions as a default preposition when no other preposition is specifically called for, as in examples such as the following: (18)

Mi fraet lo dok ya. ‘I’m afraid of that dog.’

(19)

Mi les l-ol man blo smok. ‘I’m sick of smokers.’

Although Bislama has only a small set of genuine prepositions, there is a set of locational markers which can be used in conjunction with these prepositions to express a broader range of meanings. Forms such as antap ‘above’, ananit ‘beneath’, ova ‘over’, klosap ‘nearby’, lo(ng)we ‘far off’, insaed ‘inside’, aosaed ‘outside’, afta ‘after’, bifo ‘before’, bihaen ‘behind’ and so on can be used before a prepositional phrase marked by lo(ng). Thus, compare pijin i flae antap ‘the bird flew above’ and pijin i flae antap lo hil ‘the bird flew above the hill’.

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(ii) blong: This preposition alternates in shape between blong, blo- and bl- according to the same conditions just noted for lo(ng). It precedes a possessor noun or pronoun phrase in a possessive construction, e.g. naef blong papa ‘Dad’s knife’, trak blo mi ‘my car’. It also marks a benefactive noun phrase, e.g. bae mi katem bred blo yu ‘I will cut the bread for you’, as well as marking a habitual or characteristic relationship between two noun phrases, e.g. man blo smok ‘smoker’. (iii) from: This expresses a causal function, as in mi stap kof from sigaret ‘I cough because of cigarettes’, as well as expressing a purposive function: (20)

Hem i kam from masket blong sutum man blo smok. ‘(S)he came for a gun to shoot the smoker.’

(iv) wetem: This is an accompanitive preposition, as in (21): (21)

Bae mi toktok wetem yu. ‘I will speak with you.’

The same form can also be used to express the instrumental function, in alternation with lo(ng): (22)

Mi katem bret wetem naef. ‘I am cutting bread with the knife’.

(v) olsem: This expresses the similative function, as in (23): (23)

Mi no olsem yu. ‘I’m not like you.’

In addition, a number of forms that began as transitive verbs are currently acquiring prepositional functions. These newly developed prepositions include the following: (vi) kasem: As a transitive verb, kasem means ‘reach, arrive at’, but this form can also be used as a preposition meaning ‘as far as, until’, as in (24): (24)

Bae mi stap kasem tri klok. ‘I will stay until three o’clock.’

(vii) bitim: The transitive verb bitim means ‘defeat’. As a preposition, this form has come to express the meaning of ‘past’: (25)

Bae mi stap bitim tri klok. ‘I will stay past three o’clock.’

This form is also used in comparative constructions: (26)

Mi longfala bitim yu. ‘I am taller than you.’

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(viii) agensem: The verb agensem means ‘oppose’, but when used as a preposition this form expresses the meaning of ‘against’: (27)

Bae mi toktok agensem yu. ‘I will speak against you.’

(ix) raonem: This form can be used as a verb meaning ‘surround’ or ‘go around’, but as a preposition it means ‘around’: (28)

Mi pulum fanis raonem yad blo buluk. ‘I made a fence around the cattle yard.’

(x) folem: Finally, the form folem as a verb means ‘follow’, but when this is used as a preposition it expresses the idea of ‘according to’: (29)

Mi wokem kek folem buk blo kuk. ‘I made a cake according to the cookbook’.

7.4.

Interrogative constructions

Polar questions are very frequently distinguished from statements by means only of a change in intonation. Alternatively, polar questions can be marked by means of the tag (n)o ‘or’ e.g. bae yu kam ‘you will come’ > bae yu kam no? ‘will you come?’ Such sentences represent abbreviations of longer alternatives such as bae yu kam no bae yu no kam? ‘will you come or will you not come?’. Content questions are expressed by means of the following interrogative forms: wanem ‘what?’, hu(ya) ‘who?’, hamas ‘how much/many?’, we(a) ‘where?’, wataem ‘when?’, wijwan ‘which?’. Some interrogative meanings are expressed by complex interrogatives, e.g. olsem wanem ‘how?’ (< wanem ‘why?’). These forms typically appear in a sentence in the structural position appropriate to a corresponding statement, i.e. as we find in English without automatic movement of the interrogative form to the head of the clause, as in (30): (30)

Yu wokem wanem? ‘What did you do?’

These forms can, however, be fronted in the same way as other fronted constituents: (31)

Wanem (nao) yu wok em?

In contrast to English, where questions with fronted WH-words represent the unmarked pattern, in Bislama fronting of question words represents a much more strongly expressed interrogative.

Bislama: morphology and syntax

8.

Complex predicates and sentences

8.1.

Serial verbs

697

Representing a major typological contrast with English, we find fairly extensive patterns of verb serialization of a variety of kinds in Bislama. While some of these patterns are encountered also in Tok Pisin and Solomons Pijin, other serial verb constructions appear to be restricted to Bislama, or to be more frequently encountered in Bislama than in the other varieties of Melanesian Pidgin. Just as in many of the Oceanic substrate languages, we also find a distinction in Bislama between what we can call nuclear-layer and core-layer serial verb constructions, with the two patterns differing in the degree of structural juncture between the verbs involved. Basically, nuclear-layer serial verb constructions involve a relatively tight and more compound-like juncture between verbs, whereas core-layer serial verbs involve a loose and more subordinate-like juncture. However, clear criteria can be recognized for distinguishing between serial verbs and compounding on the one hand and subordination on the other. With nuclear-layer serial verb constructions, we find two verbs in sequence with no marking of subordination or coordination linking the two. There is just a single “predicate marker” applying across the verb series, and there is just a single subject preceding both verbs and a single object following both verbs. An example of this kind of pattern is: (32)

Kali i katem spletem wud. ‘Kali cut the log in two.’

Here, the transitive verbs katem ‘cut’ and spletem ‘split’ are associated with a single subject and a single object. There is a fairly restricted set of verbs which can appear as the second verb in this kind of serial verb construction in Bislama. This includes transitive verbs such as spletem ‘split’, brekem ‘break’, klinim ‘clean’, flatem ‘completely finish’, blokem ‘block’, spolem ‘damage, ruin’, hipimap ‘pile up’, finisim ‘finish’ and fasem ‘tie’. The resultant combination expresses a resultative meaning as in the following examples: (33)

Sera i terem brekem pepa. ‘Sarah tore the paper in two’

(34)

Manu i kakae flatem raes. ‘Manu ate all of the rice.’

(35)

Roi i sidaon blokem rod. ‘Roy blocked the way by sitting on the road.’

There is also a handful of intransitive verbs which can appear in the second position in the same construction, including haed ‘hide’, raf ‘be dishonest’, raon ‘go

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around’, taet ‘be tight’ and redi ‘prepare’. Although these forms carry no transitive suffix, they can still be followed by an object if the initial verb is transitive. Consider (36): (36)

Mi kukum haed ol yam. ‘I secretly cooked the yams.’

Intransitive verbs in a serial verb construction such as this typically express the manner in which an action is performed. Core-layer serialization differs from nuclear-layer serial verb constructions in that there can be independent object marking associated with the initial verb, and there is also likely to be “predicate marking” between the two verbs (though there is no possibility for the second verb to independently choose its own subject). Contrast the examples just given with the following core-layer serial verb construction: (37)

a. Kali i sendem buk i kam. ‘Kali send the book hither.’

This differs from the nuclear-layer serial verb construction in that the serialized verb sendem ‘send’ is associated with the object buk ‘book’, and kam is then serialized with this whole verb phrase. If this were a nuclear-layer serial verb construction, the pattern would be: (37)

b. *Kali i sendem kam buk.

It is worth commenting, however, that in Solomons Pijin, this pattern is in fact how this particular meaning is typically expressed. While nuclear-layer serial verb constructions are occasionally used for the expression of manner, it is also possible for manner to be expressed by means of core-layer serial verb constructions, as in (38): (38)

Hem i holem rop i taet. ‘(S)he held the rope tightly.’

It is far more common, however, for core-layer serial verb constructions in Bislama to be associated with the expression of the directional orientation of an event, with verbs that are physically directed either to or from the speaker being serialized with the basic motion verbs kam ‘come’ and go ‘go’, as already illustrated. However, other directional (and also posture) verbs can also appear in this kind of construction: (39)

Hem i putum pos i slip lo graon. ‘(S)he lay the post on the ground.’

(40)

Maki i bin wokbaot i stap lo bus. ‘Maki walked in the bush.’

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The multiply ambiguous preposition long can be disambiguated in terms of its location, goal and source senses by being associated with core-layer serial verb constructions expressing direction and position. Consider (41) to (43): (41)

Maki i wokbaot i go lo bus. ‘Maki walked to the bush.’

(42)

Maki i wokbaot i kam lo bus. ‘Maki walked from the bush.’

(43)

Maki i wokbaot i stap lo bus. ‘Maki walked in the bush.’

8.2.

Coordination

The form mo is used to link coordinate clauses: (44)

Bae mi kam lo haos mo bae yu wet lo mi. ‘I will come to the house and you will wait for me.’

The form be is used to express adversative coordinate clauses: (45)

Bae mi kam lo haos be bae yu no wet lo mi. ‘I will come to the house but you will not wait for me.’

A disjunctive relationship is expressed by o, which varies freely with no: (46)

Bae yu kam (n)o bae yu stap lo haos? ‘Will you come or will you stay at home?’

8.3.

Subordinate clauses

There is a range of different kinds of subordinate clause markers in Bislama. The possessive preposition blo(ng) is used to introduced a purpose clause: (47)

Mi kam blo harem nius. ‘I came to hear the news.’

The general oblique preposition lo(ng) is used to introduce a variety of non-purposive complement clauses, as in (48): (48)

Mi intres lo pem trak. ‘I am interested in buying the car.’

The form se is used to introduce a quotative clause in which a clause containing a verb of locution is followed by the content of the utterance:

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(49)

Mi talem lo hem se bae mi kam. ‘I told him/her that I would come.’

(50)

Mi singaotem hem se bae i kam. ‘I shouted to him that he should come.’

(51)

Hem i giaman se bae i kam. ‘He lied that he would come.’

However, this form is also used to introduce a wide variety of complement clauses in which the initial clause expresses not just contents of locutions but also thoughts and feelings in general, as in (52) to (54): (52)

Mi hop se bae yu kam. ‘I hope that you will come.’

(53)

Mi save se yu bin pem trak. ‘I knew that you bought the car.’

(54)

Mi bilif se yu save helpem mi. ‘I believe that you can help me.’

The form we is used to express a location clause: (55)

Hem i putum we mi no save faenem. ‘(S)he put it where I can’t find it.’

Another very frequently encountered construction involving the subordinator we in Bislama is a pattern of emphasis in which a predicate is subordinated to itself by means of we. Thus, contrast graon i strong ‘the ground is hard’ with graon i strong we i strong ‘the ground is really hard’. It is common for the repeated material after the subordinator we to be deleted, giving constructions such as graon i strong we meaning the same thing. The prepositional forms from and olsem are also used to introduce particular kinds of subordinate clauses. The causal preposition from is used to introduce reason clauses, while the similative preposition olsem introduces clauses expressing similarity. Thus: (56)

Mi kam from yu bin singaotem mi. ‘I came because you called me.’

(57)

Mi wokbaot olsem yu bin talem. ‘I walked like you said.’

The noun taem ‘time’ is used to introduce a temporal clause: (58)

Mi stap lo haos taem yu bin kam. ‘I was at home when you came.’

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Other subordinators in Bislama have no independent function. One such form is sapos ‘if’: (59)

Bae mi kam sapos yu talem. ‘I will come if you say.’

Nomata or nevamaen can also be used to mean ‘although, even if’: (60)

Bae mi kam nomata yu no talem. ‘I will come even if you don’t say.’

All of the subordinators mentioned in the preceding paragraph are frequently associated with a following we (which normally expresses either a place clause or it introduces a relative clause within a noun phrase) or se (which normally introduces a quotative clause), with no apparent change of meaning. Thus, reason clauses may be introduced by from, from we or from se in free variation. This tendency to make use of these complex subordinators seems to be an increasing trend particularly among younger speakers. *

John Lynch is acknowledged for helpful comments on an earlier draft of this chapter. Final responsibility for all interpretation rests, of course, with the author.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Crowley, Terry 1990 Beach-la-Mar to Bislama: The Emergence of a National Language in Vanuatu. (Oxford Studies in Language Contact). Oxford: Clarendon Press. Meyerhoff, Miriam 2000 Constraints on Null Subjects in Bislama (Vanuatu). Canberra: Pacific Linguistics. Tryon, Darrell 1987 Bislama: An Introduction to the National Language of Vanuatu. Canberra: Pacific Linguistics.

Solomon Islands Pijin: morphology and syntax* Christine Jourdan

1.

Introduction

Pijin is the local name of the pidgin spoken in the Solomon Islands. Even though it has no official status, Pijin is the de facto national language of the country: it is used as a secondary language in the rural areas where vernacular languages are central to local cultures, and as a main language in the urban centres. An ever growing number of urbanites have Pijin as a mother tongue and have no knowledge of the vernaculars of their parents. For further details on the socio-linguistic situation of Pijin in the Solomon Islands, please refer to the accompanying chapter on phonetics and phonology of Pijin. Pijin is an English lexified language (80 percent of the vocabulary) that has been heavily shaped by local vernaculars (Keesing 1988). Pijin is typical of pidgin and creole languages in that it displays limited morphology and syntax. Whatever resemblances one may see with English is essentially lexical, as morphology and syntax bear no fundamental resemblances with those of English. However, one sees traces of English presence in the morphology, mainly under the form of reanalyzed tokens. For instance, some inflectional suffixes present in English (plural marking, pronouns) have been reanalyzed as parts of nouns and verb roots in Pijin. In general, none of the inflectional systems of English has survived in Pijin. Plural marking of nouns is analytical and not morphological and is marked by the preposition of a plural marker (also the third person pronoun). Verbs are not inflected for tense, which is indicated by the use of aspect markers in initial clause position or in preverbal position. Budding auxiliaries such as bin (been) appear in the preverbal slot (in some dialects of Pijin only). So do duratives such as stap (stay). Genitive marking is realized through the use of the preposition blo blong (derived from English belong) between the possessed and the possessor. As with Bislama (Vanuatu) and Tok Pisin (Papua New Guinea), most of the derivational morphology found in Pijin is a recent development out of lexical items. Reanalysis of English lexical items was one of the most productive derivational systems of early Pijin. It is now progressively replaced by derivation of the Pijin system. Thus whereas the English third person pronoun him was reanalyzed early on as a transitive marker on verbs -em, this derivational

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suffix -em is now also used to transform nouns, adjectives and prepositions into verbal predicates. Please consult the relevant sections below for more details. As for syntax, we find a limited amount of multifunctional words (e.g. pronouns serving also as plural or transitive markers), a limited presence (until recently) of clause marking devices (relatives, causatives, etc.), a developed set of prepositions, a large class of stative verbs and a small class of adjectives, and the preference for aspect marking rather than time marking. In general, one has to keep in mind that many dialects of Pijin coexist in the Solomon Islands: in addition to the more basilectal and acrolectal varieties, there exist also dialects based on differences created by geography, social class, gender and age. One of the most important contrasts is between urban and rural speech. The sketch presented here cannot do justice to the rich diversity exhibited by all these dialects and is, by necessity, incomplete.

2.

Sentences and word order

Unlike English, Pijin does not have a copula, simple equational sentences are thus often non-verbal sentences of the type Mi nao mi sif blong ples ia ‘I am the chief of this place’. In rural areas and in the speech of older people in urban areas, the predicate marker /i/ tends to be inserted in the verb phrase after the nominal or the pronominal subject, as in (1): (1)

Puskat nao hem i dae finis. ‘The cat has died.’

The predicate marker is becoming increasingly optional in urban centres. In the speech of young people, it is almost non-existent. Pijin, like most of the local vernacular languages and English, prefers SVO word order for equational and simple sentences of the type: (2)

Mami blong mi siki. ‘My mother is sick.’

However, in general, topicalization (of the subject or the object) is the preferred form for informative and more complex sentences. When the subject noun phrase is the focus, a subject pronoun is often inserted in the verb phrase: (3)

a. Pikinin blong mi hem siki long hospitol nao. ‘My child is sick at the hospital.’

Topicalization, with or without fronting of the subject or object noun phrase can be reinforced by the optional addition of the focus marker nao:

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(3)

b. Pikinin blong mi nao hem siki long hospitol.

When a pronoun subject is topicalized, it must be followed by the focus marker nao: (4)

Hem nao hem siki. ‘He is sick.’ or ‘It is he who is sick.’

As with Bislama, other focused noun phrases can be located before the subject, with optional marking by nao, as in (5): (5)

a. Olketa pikinin tisa kros long olketa. b. Olketa pikinin nao tisa kros long olketa. ‘The teacher is upset at the children.’

In narratives, the preferred pattern involves the repetition of the last clause or words of the preceding sentence at the beginning of the next sentence, thus giving the story a gentle lull and rhythm as in (6): (6)

Olketa pikinin go wokabaot long bus. Wokabaot long bus, olketa lukim wanfala jaean. Jaean ia aksem samfala selen long olketa. Askem samfala selen long olketa, batawea, olketa no garem nao. ‘The children went for a walk in the forest. As they went for a walk in the bush, they saw a giant. The giant asked them for some money. He asked them for some money, but they did not have any.’

This pattern is also found in local Austronesian vernacular narratives and is rather reminiscent of some structures of ritual language in Indonesia (see Fox 1974), thus indicating that it may be an Austronesian pattern.

3.

Noun phrase constituents

In Pijin, the noun phrase can be composed of determiners, pronouns, nouns, qualifiers and quantifiers. 3.1.

Determiners

Unlike English, Pijin has no definite or indefinite singular article similar to English the or a. Thus singular nouns appear alone as in (7): (7)

Kokorako kolsap bonem eg blong hem. ‘The chicken is ready to lay its egg.’

However, the quantifier wanfala ‘one’ is progressively becoming reanalyzed by some speakers as an indefinite singular article that would be translated in English

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either by ‘a’ or by ‘one’ according to context. Plural of nouns is indicated by the anteposition of the third person pronoun plural olketa which also means ‘all’. Only the context indicates whether a proper translation is with English ‘the’ or with English ‘all’. The demonstrative pronoun ia (from English here) is increasingly being used also as a definite article. Again, the context reveals the meaning of ia. Thus the sentence Man ia mi lukim long sip can be understood as ‘I saw this man in the ship’, or ‘I saw the man in the ship’. 3.2.

Quantifiers

Like English, Pijin has two types of numeral quantifiers: cardinals and ordinals. Cardinals are formed by adding the suffix -fala derived from English fellow but now semantically bleached, to any of the regular numerals (e.g. in wanfala pikinin ‘one child’, fofala dola ‘four dollars’, tuentifala man ‘twenty men’). Under the influence of English, an ever increasing number of urban speakers are dropping the suffix -fala from the cardinals. When emphasis on the number is needed, the suffix -fala is always present. Note that plural is not morphologically marked on the nouns that follow. Ordinals are formed in two ways: first, by adding the prefix mek- (English make) before the numeral, as in mekwan ‘first’, mekfoa ‘fourth’, meksikis ‘sixth’, or: (8)

Mekfoa sista blong mi marit long Malaita. ‘My fourth sister is married to someone from Malaita.’

Second, by prefixing the word namba- ‘number’ to the numeral nambawan, nambatu, nambatri, etc. and placing the ordinal immediately before the word that is qualified, as in (9): (9)

Nambatri pikinin blong mi stap siki. ‘My third child is sick.’

Lexical quantifiers such as olketa ‘plural, all’, samfala ‘some’, plande ‘lots of’, staka ‘many, lots of’, evri ‘each, every’, lelebet ‘a few’, naf ‘enough’, tumas ‘too much, a lot of’ can also be used to modify nouns as in (10): (10)

a. Staka pipol long maket distaem. ‘There is a lot of people at the market today.’ b. Lelebet selen long pasbuk blong mi. ‘There is a bit of money in my account.’

Note that some of these quantifiers can be used as pronouns, without accompanying nouns, according to context as in (11): (11)

Staka long olketa kam long naet. ‘Many of them came at night.’

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3.3.

Qualifiers

Unlike English, Pijin has a small class of true adjectives, compared to the large class of predicate adjectives that function as statives. This is a pattern found in most of the substrate Oceanic languages (Ross 1998). Except for a small group of them, they are pre-modifiers as in bigfala sista ‘elder sister’ or gudfala waka ‘good work’, and characteristically identified by the possible presence of the suffix fala (even though it tends to disappear from the speech of an increasing amount of speakers). For some speakers, the suffix -fala is simply redundant, for others it is a way to add emphasis if the general way of constructing adjectives does not involve a regular use of the suffix. These adjectives typically include colour terms, size, relative age (young or old), and numbers. On the other hand, there exists also a large class of predicative adjectives, but given the absence of copula, these adjectives function fundamentally like verbs as in Pikpik blong mi gris fogud which we can render in English only by ‘My pig is very fat’. For this reason I prefer to analyze them as stative verbs and so does Keesing (1988). Others, however, analyze them as adjectives, like for example Crowley (this volume) for Bislama. 3.4.

Affixes

The main derivational affixes are suffixes: they are fala which signals adjectives, wan which transforms statives or adjectives into nouns (e.g. siki [stative] ‘sick’ vs. sikiwan ‘sick person’), and -em (as well as its variants -im and -um), also commonly referred to as the transitive marker (e.g. kaekae ‘to eat’ vs. kaekaem ‘to eat something’). Beside marking the transitivity of active verbs, the transitive marker can turn nouns, statives and prepositions into transitive verbs. The noun ren ‘rain’ becomes renim ‘rain on’: (12)

Disfala big ren ia renim mi tumas. ‘This big rain storm (rained on me) drenched me.’

The stative tuwet ‘drenched, soaked’ becomes transitive in the following sentence: (13)

Hu nao tuwetim kaleko blong mi? ‘Who has soaked my clothes?’

The preposition of ‘off’ becomes transitive with the adjunction of -um (for more details see section 4.1.): (14)

Ofum laet ia. ‘Switch off the light.’

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Personal pronouns

The paradigm of Pijin personal pronouns is as follows: Singular 1

Inclusive Exclusive

mi

Dual

Trial

Plural

iumitrifala mitrifala iutrifala

iumi mifala iufala

trifala

olketa

2

iu

iumitufala mitufala iutufala

3

hem

tufala

The presence of the suffix -fala derived from English fellow is probably due to a reanalysis of fellow as a plural marker in the early day of the formation of Melanesian Pidgin. This paradigm is both simple and complex. On the one hand, it is simple, because, in contrast with English, Pijin (like Bislama) does not distinguish case or gender. The position of the pronouns in the sentence with regard to the verb allows for the distinction between subject and object. Reflexivity is indicated by the addition of the adjective seleva ‘self’, as in (15)

Mi seleva nao wakem. ‘I did it by myself’ or ‘I did it myself.’

Reciprocity is indicated by the repetition of the same pronoun in subject and object position, as in (16): (16)

Sapos iumi mitim iumi moa, bae iumi stori. ‘If we meet each other again, we will talk.’

Possession is indicated by the expression blong, for example in (17): (17)

Sista blong mi bonem bebi blong hem. ‘My sister gave birth to her child.’

On the other hand, the system is complex because, and also in contrast with English, the pronominal paradigm of Pijin makes a rather elaborate set of distinctions between singular, dual, trial and plural. In addition, pronominal forms indicate a systematic distinction between inclusive and exclusive. These features correspond exactly to the substrate languages and are clearly not of English origin. As with English and the substrate languages, the system makes it possible to incorporate noun subjects along with the pronouns. Thus ‘We young people…’ can be translated by Mifala iangwan. But Pijin and substrate languages make use of these constructions much more frequently than English. Particularly striking, yet pervasive, are constructions of the type illustrated in (18), where the second subject is clearly included in the pronoun, but yet singled out:

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(18)

Mitufala Resina bae go maket. ‘Resina and I will go to the market.’

3.6.

Nouns

Common nouns are of such forms as ston ‘stone’, popo ‘pawpaw’ and brata ‘brother’. The great majority of the words are derived from English etyma, and English is now the main source of neologisms such as kompiuta ‘computer’, vidio ‘video’, etc. A significant number of words are from Melanesian origin, most specifically Eastern Oceanic terms (some of them pan-Solomonic): susu ‘breast’, ‘milk’, nana ‘pus’, maman ‘opening’, kokosu ‘hermit crab’. Nouns enter into three main types of constructions involving either NOUN + NOUN, MODIFIER + NOUN and VERB + NOUN. In constructions of the type NOUN + NOUN, the model, common in the substrate languages, is HEAD + MODIFIER, as in koprahaos ‘copra shed’, lemantri ‘lemon tree’, masolman ‘strong man’, samanfisi ‘tinned fish’. So strong is the substrate model that some well-established English compound words undergo metathesis as sitbed ‘bedsheet’, haostakis ‘tax house’, nelfingga ‘finger nail’, or lifti ‘tea leaf’. More common are the compounds involving MODIFIER + NOUN, as in redsos ‘ketchup’, raonwata ‘lake, puddle’, levolples ‘flat land’, bikmere ‘important woman’ ialotri ‘Indian mulberry’, smolkisin ‘outside kitchen’, or smolmami ‘mother’s younger sister’. A small class of compounds involve VERB + NOUN in either order, contrary to what we see in Bislama where verbs seem to precede nouns exclusively (see Crowley, this volume). A relevant example is Pijin manstil (man ‘man’ + stil ‘steal’) ‘thief’ for Bislama stilman. But we also have the Bislama order as in maritbed ‘conjugal bed, double bed’ or maritkwata ‘housing for married people’. 3.7.

Plural marking

Plural marking is not always necessary provided the context makes it clear that the noun is plural. However, when plural is marked, it is marked analytically by the preposition of the third person plural pronoun olketa ‘they, all’: (19)

Olketa boe bae kam long naet. ‘The boys will come at night.’

Under the pressure of English, the official language of the country and the language of education, an increasing number of common words seem to be marking plural both morphologically and analytically. That is the case for words such as boe ‘boy’ as in olketa boes ‘the boys’ and gel ‘girl’ as in olketa gels. Interestingly, the plural suffix -s is in most cases used in conjunction with the plural marker

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olketa even though I have heard some people use the morphological plural without olketa. Is it a case of code switching or are we talking of the development of variation in Pijin plural marking? It is hard to say at this stage. Plural can also be marked by the preposition of indefinite nominal modifiers such as samfala ‘some’ or plural personal pronouns such as mifala ‘we’ and iufala ‘you’ and their dual, trial, inclusive forms as in (20): (20)

Mifofala boe go wokabaot nao. ‘The four of us boys are going for a walk.’

Note also that some English plural forms were reanalyzed early in Pijin as singular. For instance ants became anis as in blakanis ‘black ant’. Thus ‘one ant’ would be glossed as wanfala anis and ‘the ants’ would most likely be glossed in Pijin by olketa anis.

4.

Verb phrases

4.1.

Verbs and verbal morphology

Pijin verbs can be divided into two main classes: stative and dynamic. Stative verbs have semantic properties that give them the attributive quality usually associated in English with adjectives. But as Pijin lacks copula, these statives are fundamentally verbal, as they are in the substrate languages (Keesing no date). Consider examples like marit ‘be married’, lesi ‘be lazy’, or finis ‘be finished’. Some of these statives can become transitive with the adjunction of the transitive marker -em or one of its variants. The dynamic verbs are divided into intransitive verbs and transitive verbs. The latter are marked by the addition of a transitive marker on the intransitive form. The choice of transitive suffix to be added (-em, -im or -um) varies according to a rule of vocalic harmony between the stem of the verb and the transitive suffix as in the following model: Verb stem vowel -a -e -i -o -u

Suffix -em -em -im -em -um

This “rule” is more or less regular: huk ‘to hook’ becomes hukum ‘to hook something’, hit ‘to hit’ becomes hitim ‘to hit someone’, but baet ‘to bite’ becomes baetim for some speakers and baetem for others. A general trend in the speech of young urban Pijin speakers is the shortening of -em to -m. Thus we get ansam ‘to answer something/someone’ instead of ansarem, or kalam ‘to colour something’ instead of kalarem.

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The transitive suffix is very productive as it can be used with nouns (for example, san ‘sun’ becomes sanim ‘to put in the sun’) and prepositions (ap ‘up’ becomes apum ‘to raise’). So far, it does not seem possible to append the transitive suffix to true adjectives. A good indicator of the productivity of this suffix is that any new verbs directly borrowed from English today will automatically receive the transitive suffix: fotokopim ‘to photocopy’, faksim ‘to fax’, etc. Typically, most intransitive verbs, and a small group of statives such as marit ‘be married’, komplit ‘be finished’, hot ‘be hot’, and fraet ‘be scared’, can become transitive. Thus the stative fraet ‘be scared’ can become fraetem ‘to scare’, as in (21): (21)

Bikfala dogi ia fraetem mi tumas. ‘This big dog scares me a lot.’

But a number of transitive verbs do not have intransitive equivalents, such as duim ‘do (it)’, wakem ‘make (it)’, falom ‘follow (it)’, tekem ‘take (it)’. As with Bislama, a small category of transitive verbs can be marked with the suffix or not and yet not change meaning: drink or drinkim ‘to drink’, kaekae or kaekaem ‘to eat’, etc. A small subset of verbs are exclusively intransitive: save ‘to know, to facilitate, to have the habit of’, go ‘to go’, kam ‘to come’, and stap ‘to stay, to exist’. Interestingly, these verbs also function as auxiliaries and modals, and are used in serial verb constructions. Go and kam function also as directionals: when placed after an action verb, they indicate the direction of the action towards or away from the speaker (e.g. tekem go ‘remove from here, take away’, tekem kam ‘bring’, ring go ‘phone someone’, ring kam ‘receive a phone call’). When used in conjunction with other verbs, the verb stap indicates origin as in (22a), or a durative as in (22b): (22)

a. Iu stap kam long wea? ‘Where are you coming from?’ b. Mam blong mi stap siki. ‘My mother is sick.’

The verb save acts as a modal indicating habituality and ability: (23)

a. Hem save sevis long sande. ‘She (usually) goes to church on Sunday.’ b. Pita no save draeva. ‘Peter cannot drive.’

It can also indicate desirability: (24)

Waswe, mi save kaekae kek tu? ‘Tell me, may I also eat some cake?’

One could claim that the so-called transitive marker is a form of inflection as it marks agreement with the object. However, this is true when the object is a noun

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or a pronoun (even when it is absent, since Pijin is a third person pro-drop language), but not when the object is a verb phrase, as will be shown in the analysis of serial verb constructions in section 4.5. 4.2.

Reduplication

Contrary to English, Pijin makes room for reduplication as a productive pattern in the morphology of verbs. It is an important element of the language that can modify meaning and/or mood. It is also present in the substrate languages of the Solomon Islands. Reduplication is used to indicate intensity, duration, or repetition of an action. Many speakers make use of it liberally throughout their speech, for affect or precision. It is a particularly important tool for story tellers who make use of it to develop the atmosphere and the meaning of their story. go suim fraet krae/karae

‘go’ ‘swim’ ‘afraid’ ‘cry’

gogo susuim fafraet kakarae

‘after sometime’ ‘be swimming’ ‘very afraid’ ‘cry continuously’

In some cases reduplication changes the meaning of the word slightly as with: dae go ting was sing

‘die’ ‘go’ ‘think’ ‘wash’ ‘sing’

dadae gogo tingting waswas singsing

‘pine away’ ‘journey’ ‘thought’ ‘laundry’ ‘song’

The standard patterns seem to involve reduplication of the initial syllable of the verb stem, or reduplication of the whole verb root when the consists of one syllable. In the first case we find save ‘to know’ and sasave ‘to be very knowledgeable’, siki ‘be sick’ and sisiki ‘keep being sick’, bisi ‘be busy’ and bibisi ‘be very busy’, silip ‘to sleep’ and sisilip ‘to sleep a long time’. In the second case we find kis and kiskis. However, other reduplication patterns reveal that the rule is not that simple. Note that one-syllable verb roots containing a diphthong will follow the general pattern above, as in faet ‘to fight’ and fafaet. Note also that when the verb starts with a consonant cluster (a pattern predominantly found in the speech of young urbanites), speakers will copy the first consonant and the first vowel. Thus stap becomes sastap, presim becomes pepresim, ple becomes peple. From this we conclude that the basic rule for verbal reduplication is that speakers will copy the first consonant and the first vowel. Very rarely will speakers choose to reduplicate the

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consonant cluster if it is in initial position, contrary to what is happening in Bislama (see Crowley, this volume). Reduplication is rather specific to verbal morphology and is very rarely found in other parts of speech except in a few limited nouns, with or without a change of meaning in the process: kala ‘colour’ and kalakala ‘multicolour’, wan ‘one’ and wanwan ‘one at a time, individually’, pikpik ‘pig’ and sipsip ‘sheep’, kaekae ‘food’. In these cases the whole root of the noun is reduplicated. Note that the noun kaekae ‘food’, derived from Eastern Oceanic kae, is also the verb kaekae ‘eat’. All these words entered Pijin as lexicalized reduplicated forms. 4.3.

Compound verbs

Pijin has lexicalized a small set of English verb phrases based on verbs such as talk (tok), make (mek), hold (holem), which are usually followed by a preposition, a stative verb, or a noun. When the Pijin compound is built with a preposition, some sets of verbs, such as tok, will have the transitive marker affixed after the preposition, as in tokabaotem ‘talk about’, tokwetem ‘talk with’, tokdaonem (tok ‘talk’ + daonem ‘lower’ = ‘denigrate’). When the compound is built with a stative or a noun, the verb is intransitive, as in mekenoes = mek + optional epenthetic /e/ + noes ‘noise’ = ‘to be noisy’, mekelaen = mek ‘make’+ /e/ + laen ‘line’ = ‘line up’, mekwara = mek + wara ‘water’ = ‘to be sterile’, mektambu = mek + tambu ‘sacred, off-limit’ = ‘consecrate’. A relevant example is: Olketa dadi long laen blong mi kam for mektambu long ples ia ‘The male relatives of my lineage come to consecrate this area’. 4.4.

Prepositional verbs

Like English, Pijin can use prepositions such as of ‘off’, ap ‘up’, daon ‘down’ as the verbal nucleus of transitive verbs. English has up the ante, Pijin has ofum ‘to switch off, to turn off’, apum ‘to raise’, daonem ‘to lower’, antapem ‘to be on top of’, insaetim ‘to bring inside’, atsaetim ‘to bring outside’. These prepositional verbs (as with other verbs derived with the transitive suffix) have become quite prevalent in the speech of younger urbanites. On the other hand, we find in the speech of older speakers, and also of rural speakers, a distinct prevalence of constructions involving the prepositions following dynamic verbs such as tekem ‘take’ and wakem ‘make’. Whereas they would say Iumi mas tekem kaleko insaet from ren ‘We have to bring the clothes inside because of the rain’, a young urbanite would probably say Iumi mas insaetim kaleko from ren. These verbs are a good example of the productivity of the suffix -em. However, these verbs are different from a second type of prepositional verbs that have the morphology of transitive verbs but are used as prepositions with an object. These are typically Melanesian and are found in many substrate languages.

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They include agensem ‘against’, abaotem ‘about’, raonem ‘around’, lusim ‘away from’, and wetem ‘with someone’, as in (25): (25)

Ellen nao bae mi kam wetem. ‘It is with Ellen that I will come.’

4.5.

Serial verb constructions

Verb serializations exist in Pijin only if serial constructions consisting of auxiliary + verb are in included in that category. This construction is also common in English in phrases such as go ask, come see, etc. In Pijin this form is quite common and involves transitive and intransitive verbs and auxiliaries such as go ‘go’, kam ‘come’, and modals such as save ‘know, can’, wande ‘want, wish’, laek ‘want, like’. Thus there are numerous serial constructions like go tekem ‘go and take’, go lukim ‘go and look’, kam tekem ‘come and take’, go silip ‘go and sleep’, go suim ‘go and wash’, wande kaekae ‘want to eat’, or laek stap ‘wish to stay’. It is worth noting that the verb wandem becomes wande as a modal in serial constructions. When verbs are serialized with modals, the second verb loses its transitive marker even though it is functionally transitive. Consider (26): (26)

Dadi wande kaekae fis, ma fis nomoa nao. ‘Daddy wants to eat fish, but there is none left.’

Another type of serial verb constructions involves VERB + VERB, but this is a rather small group limited to resultative verbs, and is certainly not as productive as can be seen in Bislama. They all involve intransitive verbs, and it would probably be just as efficient to analyze the second verb as an adverb, even though functionally these adverbs are also stative verbs: kilim dae = kilim ‘beat up’ + dae ‘die’ = ‘beat to death’, kilim haed = kilim ‘beat up’ + haed ‘hide’ = ‘beat in an ambush’. Contrary to what is happening in Bislama, there is no verb serialization in which the second verb is also transitive. 4.6.

Aspect marking

In contrast to English, Pijin does not have a tense system. It is by the use of adverbs (taem ‘when’, taembifoa ‘in the old days’, fastaem ‘long before’, etc.), prepositions (long naet ‘at night’, long mone ‘in the morning’) and aspect markers (finis ‘finish’ indicates completion, bae indicates that an action may or will happen), and combinations thereof, that speakers indicate the sequence of events. Time adverbs can occupy two slots, the preferred slot is at the very beginning of the sentence, as in (27):

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(27)

a. Taembifoa, mifala no garem trake. ‘In the old days we did not have cars.’ b. Tumoro nomoa iumi go. ‘It is tomorrow that we will go.’

Rarely do we find Iumi go tumoro ‘We shall go tomorrow’, unless the sentence is meant to be interrogative in which case the adverb is stressed with a raising intonation. Aspect marking can occur in three different positions, depending on the respective aspect marker. The only aspect marker that appears in clause-initial position is bae and its variant babae, bambae, thus revealing the adverbial origin of this aspect marker. The presence of bae in the sentence indicates that the action of the verb will take place in the future (Bae mifala go sevis ‘We will go to church’), or may take place in the future, as a possibility, and usually as a direct consequence of another action that might or might not take place. In such cases, bae is an irrealis marker and often appears in association with the irrealis particle sapos, as in (28), or with modals such as maet ‘maybe, perhaps’ and ating ‘maybe, probably’. (28)

Sapos hem hotsan, bae iumi go suim long si. ‘If the weather is good we will go swim in the ocean.’

Beyond indicating the future or the possibility of an action in the future, bae also indicates causality, sequentiality, etc. (Jourdan and Selbach 2001) The second aspect-marking slot follows the subject pronoun, more rarely the subject noun, and can be occupied by only three aspect markers: des, bin and bae. Jes (interspeaker variation [dZes ~ des]) is derived from English ‘just’ and indicates that the action of the verb has just taken place: (29)

Mi des lukim kaen pipol olsem. ‘I have just seen this type of people.’

Keesing (1988: 39) claims that this is the result of the calquing of Pijin on the basis of local vernacular languages. In other words, Pijin speakers use their vernaculars as a template to construct these types of sentences. The point is debatable since a similar structure exists also in English. Bin was attested very early on in the history of Pijin, but had not been used for a long time. It has been reintroduced over the last 20 years through sustained contact with Tok Pisin and Bislama, and is distinctively part of the urban educated dialect. The influence of English in this reintroduction is not negligible either. Thus we have Mi bin go long Ruasuara ‘I went to Ruasuara’. Bae also appears in that slot as a marker of future or in conjunction with irrealis propositions. On the basis of Sankoff and Laberge’s (1973) study of bae in Tok Pisin, theorists have posited that as a result of nativization, bae had moved from sentence-initial position to preverbal position, and was thus being grammaticalized as a future marker. This is not the case in Pijin where all groups

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of speakers overwhelmingly place bae in preverbal position, and most particularly adults of rural areas who use Pijin as a second language (Jourdan 1985). In addition to marking future, bae can also mark sequentiality of action, destination, purpose, and causality. The last aspectual slot is located immediately after the verb, and only a small set of aspect markers can fit in it. Besides iet ‘yet, still’, this set consists of the following three markers: finis indicates that the action is completed, moa indicates the repetition of the action and nao that the action is taking place. I also call nao a statement marker. This is a false friend for speakers of English who have to be alerted to the fact that the Pijin equivalent for English now is distaem and not nao. All these markers are perfective, and indicate whether the action has taken place, whether it is taking place or whether it is completed, as in (30): (30)

Mi wakem gaden blong mifala finis. ‘I have completed my work in our garden.’

Note here the possible ambiguity that is resolved by the context: have I finished my work in our garden? Or have I finished all the possible work in our garden? 4.7.

Adverbs

Adverbs fall into two categories. Some are distinctly stative verbs that are used in serial constructions to modify the head verb as in kilim dae with kilim ‘to beat up’ + dae ‘die’, or kilim strong ‘hit hard’. The second type are adverbs that cannot be used as stative verbs. They appear in postposition and modify the verb that precedes them like tumas ‘very, too much’ in (31): (31)

Hem laekem bia tumas. ‘He likes beer very much.’

Further examples are nating ‘for no reason, only’ (32a), wantaem ‘at the same time, together’ (32b), and olowe ‘until the end, all the way’ (32c): (32)

a. Mi ti nating. ‘I only had tea.’ b. Tufala Diake wetem Muina, tufala kam wantaem. ‘Jack and Muina came together.’ c. Sip ia save go olowe kasem Honiara. ‘The ship goes all the way to Honiara.’

4.8.

Prepositional phrases

Pijin makes use of a small set of prepositions such as blong ‘belong’, long and its variant lo, and fo ‘for’ in order to build prepositional phrases. The possessive blong,

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derived from English belong, and commonly realized in urban centers as blo, is also used to indicate a relation of habituality or natural connection. This latter usage can be analyzed as a form of metaphoric extension of the possessive construction (Keesing no date). In this type of construction, the preposition is located before the verb, as in miusik blong dae ‘funeral music’, man blong stil ‘a habitual thief’, or ples blong silip ‘sleeping quarters’. In the more urban varieties, and increasingly also in other areas, the preposition fo tends to replace blong in these types of constructions, e.g. man fo stil ‘habitual thief’, ples fo silip ‘sleeping quarters’. The preposition long is by far the most versatile and multifunctional preposition. On the one hand, it acts as the instrumental preposition ‘with’ in sentences such as (33): (33)

Pikpik olketa kilim dae long akis. ‘The pig was killed with an axe.’

It is also, and foremost, the locative preposition that can be glossed in English by ‘to’ and ‘at’: (34)

a. Dadi blong mi long hospital distaem. ‘My father is now at the hospital.’ b. Olketa go long Makira fo holide blong olketa. ‘They go to Makira for their vacation.’

Pijin requires directional prepositions obligatorily as in Krismas nao mi go long hom. The preposition from establishes a causal relationship, as in (35): (35)

Pikinin ia siki from malaria. ‘This child is sick because of malaria.’

Another type of prepositional phrase is constructed with prepositional verbs, i.e. prepositional verb forms that have the morphology of a transitive verb (stem + transitive suffix) but which are used as prepositions (see section 4.4. above). 4.9.

Relativization

Like English, Pijin has several ways of marking relative clauses: with the relative markers hu and wea, or without, yielding what I will call here free relatives. In addition one can embed a sentence bracketed by the deictic ia (see Sankoff 1980). Free relatives are the earliest and still the most important way of building relative clauses in Pijin, whether the relative clause is embedded or not, and whether the focus of the relative clause (the head noun) is a subject, a direct object or another syntactic function. In the following examples, the relative clause is given in square brackets:

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a. Olketa pipol [olketa ranawe] olketa go stap long bus. ‘The people who escaped took to the forest.’ b. Olketa go nomoa lukim jaeian [hemi itim man]. ‘They went looking at the giant who eats people.’

These types of sentences have a particular structure: the subject pronoun co-referential with the focused head noun signals the beginning of the relative clause and serves as its subject. This is possible only when the focused head noun is co-referential with the subject of the relative clause. It is impossible, of course, in sentences where there is a switch in reference in which the head noun is the object of the relative clause, as in (37): (37)

Pikpik [olketa kilim finis] hem fat fogud. ‘The pig they have killed is very fat.’

The subject pronoun of an embedded clause always introduces the relative if it is co-referential with the focus head noun. If we were to remove the subject pronoun from the embedded clause, the sentence would be ungrammatical or contextually unclear, or would become a chain-claused sentence. In the latter case, only the intonation pattern and the prosody would establish the difference between a relative sentence and a chain-claused sentence. Intonation is a very important marker of relativization. In a relative sentence the pause and intonational patterns are as follows: Pikpik ia hem kilim, mifala kaekaem. Pig the he killed we ate. ‘We ate the pig that he killed.’

As a chain-claused sentence, the pause and intonational patterns are as follows and the meaning of the sentence is totally different: Pikpik ia, hem kilim, mifala kaekaem. Pig the killed we ate. ‘The pig killed it, we ate it.’

As with Tok Pisin (Sankoff and Brown 1980), the bracketing of the embedded pronominal clause by the deictic ia reinforces embedding and thus relativization. The presence of ia is not necessary, however. Speakers of Pijin can also build relative clauses by using the relative markers hu and wea. Wea can be used with either people or things, whereas hu is used with human nouns. The former is the earliest form, and is currently more widespread.

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It tends to be associated with older age groups and rural populations. Hu is still rather rare overall, but its usage is expanding, particularly in the speech of young urbanites. As is the case in English, both markers are optional in Pijin as can be seen in the following example: (38)

Disfala gele (wea) mi lukim, hemi siki. ‘The girl (whom) I saw is sick.’

4.10. Interrogative constructions Interrogative sentences can be formed with or without interrogative markers. In the latter case, as with relative constructions, intonation contours play an important role in the formation of interrogative sentences: a simple change of intonation (raising at the end of the sentence) changes an affirmative clause into a question: Bae iumi go maket. ‘We will go to market.’

Bae iumi go maket? ‘Are we going to market?’

The following interrogative markers are most commonly used: hu? ‘who?’, hao mas? and more commonly hamas? ‘how much/many?’, wataem? ‘when?’, waswe? ‘how?’/‘what?’, wanem? ‘what?’. All these markers can be fronted, as in (39): (39)

Wataem nao bae iu kam? ‘When will you come?’

More commonly they are placed at the end of the clause or sentence, without any raising of the intonation contour, as in (40): (40)

Bae iu kam wataem? ‘You will come when?’

* This chapter owes much to the example set by Terry Crowley in his own chapter on Bislama morphosyntax, and to enlightening discussions with Kevin Tuite and Rachel Selbach. Shortcomings and infelicities are, of course, my own.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM.

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Fox, James 1974 Our ancestors spoke in pairs: Rotinese views of language, dialect and code. In: Richard Bauman and Joel Sherzer, Explorations in the Ethnography of Speaking, 65−85. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Jourdan, Christine 1985 Sapos iumi mitim iumi: Urbanization and creolization of Solomon Islands Pijin. Ph.D. dissertation, Australian National University, Canberra. Jourdan, Christine and Rachel Selbach 2001 “Bae revisited”: has the future marker made it into the V.P. yet? Paper presented at the meeting of the Society for Pidgin and Creole Languages, Coimbra, June 26. Keesing, Roger no date Solomon Pijin: an introductory grammar. Unpublished manuscript. Ross, Malcolm 1998 Proto-oceanic adjectival categories and their morpho-syntax. Oceanic Linguistics 37: 85−119. Sankoff, Gillian 1980 The Social Life of Language. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Sankoff, Gillian and Suzanne Laberge 1973 On the acquisition of native speakers by a language. Kivung 6: 32–47. Sankoff, Gillian and Penelope Brown 1980 The origins of syntax in discourse: a case study of Tok Pisin relatives. In: Gillian Sankoff (ed.), The Social Life of Language, 211−255. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.

Tok Pisin: morphology and syntax Geoff Smith

1.

Introduction

As noted in the introduction to Tok Pisin in the companion chapter on phonology (see Smith, other volume), there is a great deal of variability in the language, depending on such factors as first or second language use, region, situation, degree of bilingualism with English and so on. As a result, it is sometimes not easy to say what is permissible in the grammar and what is not. The following account of morphology and syntax is, then, again idealised to some extent. Generally accepted patterns of use are described, but where some variants occur, this is also indicated. Examples are generally taken from the corpus of first language speakers in Smith (2002), occasionally simplified for illustrative purposes of the feature under discussion.

2.

Morphology

Although derivational morphology is in evidence in a variety of word-formation processes, Tok Pisin, like many other pidgin and creole languages, has not transferred a productive inflectional morphology from the lexifier. The only affixes normally encountered are the -im suffix, derived from English him and attached to transitive verbs, and two -pela suffixes, derived from English fellow. However, with the increasing influence of English among some first language varieties, some English affixes, such as the -s pluralising suffix, are appearing with increasing frequency. 2.1.

The transitive marker -im

The transitivising marker -im is one of the most characteristic features of Melanesian Pidgin English, and its use has been recorded from the earliest pidgins of the Pacific. It is derived from the English object pronoun him. This form appeared in early pidgins from Australia and may have been reinforced according to Oceanic substrate patterns in the early development of Pacific pidgins (Keesing 1988). Generally, this suffix is obligatory on transitive verbs, although there are a few exceptions. About 90 of the verbs listed in Mihalic (1971) have two forms, one transitive and one intransitive, distinguished according the presence or absence of

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-im. For example, the verb sanap means ‘to be standing up’, while sanapim means ‘to stand something up’. Other examples include the following: (1)

a. dring ‘to be drinking’ b. giaman ‘to be lying’ c. marit ‘be married’

dringim ‘to drink (something)’ giamanim ‘to deceive (someone)’ (from obsolete English gammon ‘to deceive’) maritim ‘to marry (someone)’

Occasionally the intransitive form may be reduplicated: (2)

a. waswas ‘wash oneself, bathe’ b. tok(tok) ‘to talk, converse’

wasim ‘to wash (something)’ tokim ‘to say (something), to tell (someone)’

The suffix may be used in other ways to make semantic distinctions. For example, the transitive verb kaikai ‘to eat’ is unmarked by -im, while kaikaim is glossed as ‘bite’ in most accounts (e.g. Mihalic 1971). More recently, however, the use of the suffix with this particular word has been described as a way of distinguishing human from non-human agents (Smith 2002). The verbs pispis ‘urinate’ and pekpek ‘defecate’ are most often used intransitively, but still do not take the -im suffix when transitive use is called for. The forms pispis blut ‘Blackwater Fever’ (literally ‘urinate blood’) and pekpek wara ‘diarrhoea’ (literally ‘defecate liquid’) are used, although it could be argued that the transitivity is low in these cases. Forms of these verbs with -im were not thought to be permissible (Dutton 1973). However, Smith (2002) has recorded the semantically distinguished forms pekpekim ‘to lay (eggs)’ and pispisim as both ‘piss on’ and ‘sting’. The common verb gat ‘to have’, also used as an existential, normally does not take a transitive suffix, even when it is clearly transitive in nature: em i gat ol naispla nambis ‘it has nice beaches’. However, occasional instances of gatim, considered unacceptable in most areas, have been recorded, mainly from the Eastern Highlands. In modern Tok Pisin, especially as spoken by first language speakers, the final -m of the -im suffix is frequently elided, leaving transitive verbs marked by -i. The following, for example, was recorded from a young first language speaker in the Simbu province: (3)

ol suti sla boi ia, ol puti em lo ‘They shoot this boy ANAPH they put him in

kar car’

When a verb stem ends in -i, for example, redim ‘to prepare’, loss of -m can negate the transitive/intransitive distinction.

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In recent years, many English verbs have been borrowed into Tok Pisin, sometimes because of greater specificity, sometimes for stylistic reasons (Smith 1994): (4)

a. mi bin witnesim long ai bilong mi I PAST witness with eye POSS me ‘I witnessed it with my own eyes’ b. husat i bin othoraisim? who PRED PAST authorise? ‘Who authorised this?’

2.2.

The -pela suffix

The English word fellow appears to have been in frequent use in the early days of contact, and has entered all varieties of Melanesian Pidgin in reinterpreted form. While in some other dialects it appears as -fala, the Tok Pisin version is -pela, now almost universally reduced by fluent speakers to -pla. In Tok Pisin this has taken two distinct forms, one as a marker of monosyllabic adjectives, including numerals, the other as a plural marker on pronouns. 2.2.1. The -pela adjectival suffix The -pela suffix on adjectives and quantifiers is superficially similar in structure to measure words or classifiers in Chinese. Phrases such as the Cantonese yàt go yàhn ‘one person’, for example, look like an exact parallel of the Tok Pisin expression wan-pela man. Indeed, something analogous appeared in Chinese Pidgin English in the 19th century, for example, wan piecee man and some influence from that direction might reasonably be suspected. However, Baker (1987) has made a detailed study of the question and specifically ruled out influence from Chinese on Tok Pisin in this respect. There appears to be no sign that the -pela adjectival suffix is becoming obsolescent, in spite of its apparent redundancy and almost total lack of substrate reinforcement. A number of points, though, are worth noting. Firstly, the category of adjective in Tok Pisin is somewhat problematic, as there is considerable overlap between what can be defined as adjectives and stative verbs. Secondly, there are a number of common monosyllabic adjectives which do not take -pela, and only appear after the noun, e.g. banana mau ‘ripe banana’ and han kais ‘left hand’. Lastly, a recent study of first language speakers (Smith 2002) has shown that while the full -pela form was heard in some slow or deliberately pronounced words, and is retained as an etymological spelling, the reduced form -pla is now the canonical form of this suffix among a considerable number of speakers. There are some examples of adjectives with more than one syllable taking the suffix, particularly numerals and colours (e.g. sevenpela, yelopela). Some quantifiers and demonstra-

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tives ending in -pela appear to follow the same pattern, although it should be noted that some words such as dispela ‘this’ and sampela ‘some’ contain bound morphs, as there are no independently occurring forms *dis and *sam. Indeed the status of -(pe)la as a suffix here is now open to question. Among first language speakers in some areas, the -pela suffix may take on a semantic role, for example, in distinguishing the general form hamas ‘how much/many’ from a more emphatic form hamaspela ‘goodness knows how many’ (Smith 2002: 64). 2.2.2. -pela in the pronoun paradigm At some very early stage in its development, Melanesian Pidgin English speakers apparently re-interpreted the English fellow as a plural marker on pronouns, but this had to compete with other means of signalling plurality, and the resulting system is now somewhat complex. Tok Pisin pronouns differ from the pronouns of the main lexifier language (English) in a number of respects, as seen in a typical paradigm shown in the following table. Person Number

Singular

Dual

Trial

Plural

First

mi

Second Third

yu em

(excl.) mitupela (incl.) yumitupela yutupela (em)tupela

mitripela yumitripela yutripela emtripela

mipela yumi yupela ol

The paradigm is simpler than in English in some respects, for example in that case distinctions between subject and object, or gender distinctions between masculine, feminine and neuter are not normally made. (The variable use of en in place of em after long and bilong is the only exception; en is the usual unstressed form, while em is used for emphasis.) Thus three singular forms mi, yu and em are equivalent to the English forms I, me, you (singular), he, she, it, her and him. However, the system is more complex in other respects. There is a separate plural form of the second person pronoun, and dual and often trial numbers are distinguished in addition to plural. Moreover, first person plural (and sometimes dual and trial) pronouns have distinct inclusive and exclusive forms. It seems that the trial form is becoming less and less common, and that the canonical third person dual form is now tupela, making it homophonous with the numeral two. Some reduced forms are also being used with increasing frequency; in rapid speech mipela, for example, may be reduce to mipla, mila or mla, while mitupela and yutupela are routinely reduced to mitla and yutla. Thus, as with the case of disla described above, -pela here may no longer be best thought of as a suffix at all in a synchronic analysis.

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2.3.

The -s pluralising suffix

Nouns in Tok Pisin are usually pluralised where necessary by the use of the preceding word ol, homophonous with the third person plural pronoun. However, the unsystematic use of the English -s suffix has been in evidence for many years. A few lexical items include the unanalysed plural suffix from either English (anis ‘ant’ from English ‘ants’) or German (binen ‘bee’ from German binen ‘bees’) (Mühlhäusler 1981: 39). However, neither of these suffixes became involved in widely-used productive rules during stabilisation. Mühlhäusler (1985a: 276) notes a highly variable use of the suffix in urban Tok Pisin which he interprets as a reduction of the systematic adequacy of the language as it decreolises, agreeing with Lynch’s (1979: 6) characterisation of the use of -s as an interference phenomenon. Romaine’s (1992) study of children in the Madang and Morobe Provinces gives details of 195 lexical items to which -s is attached and tabulates occurrences in each of the locations investigated. She concludes that animacy does have some influence, with a larger proportion of humans than animates taking the suffix, and that count nouns take -s considerably more often than mass nouns (Romaine 1992: 234–235). Smith’s (2002) study of first language speakers shows increasing use of obligatory marking of plurals with -s among some speakers, often with retention of the redundant ol marker as well. The use of both markers with more recent lexis such as bois ‘boys’ and gels ‘girls’ is particularly evident. A few examples of -s pluralisation on words of non-English origin may be heard, but they are very uncommon. The nouns most commonly taking the -s suffix were, in order, boi ‘boy’, fren ‘friend’, perent ‘parent’, wik ‘week’, gel ‘girl’ stiudent ‘student’ and ticha ‘teacher’ i.e. mostly recent additions to the lexis, and heard frequently in bilingual contexts. For nouns ending in sibilant consonants, the normal form would be -is, for example, klesis ‘classes’ or pisis ‘pieces’, occasionally voiced in anglicised varieties. 2.4.

Other word-formation processes

Although many of the derivational processes of English word formation were routinely ignored in the development of Tok Pisin, Mühlhäusler (1979) showed that the language has an extensive and sophisticated facility for producing new words through internal productive processes. These processes consist of compounding to produce new series of lexemes, multifunctionality, where a new item is derived by zero affixation from a different part of speech, and reduplication. Examples of each of the above processes are illustrated below. 2.4.1. Compounding A wide variety of different patterns for the formation of compound nouns can be described. Mühlhäusler (1979) listed 23 “programmes” or paradigms for produc-

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ing compound expressions. For example, wantok from wan ‘one’ and tok ‘talk’ means ‘person who speaks the same language, friend.’ This provides the model for further examples such as wanwok ‘workmate’ and wanskul ‘person in the same school.’ Following a different pattern, an adjective-noun compound can be used to derive a word meaning someone who has that characteristic, for example, bikbol ‘elephantiasis’ (literally ‘big testicles’). Similarly, a noun-adjective compound may indicate someone or something with certain properties, for example, aipas, ‘blind’ from ai ‘eye’ and pas ‘fast, closed’. 21 paradigms for multifunctionality were also described by Mühlhäusler (1979), whereby new parts of speech are formed from existing lexical items, a highly productive process in the early stages of pidgin development. One example involves a noun becoming an intransitive verb meaning ‘to perform the work of that noun’, for example, jas ‘judge’ > jas ‘to be a judge’. The way is thereby paved for further development of a transitive verb jasim ‘to judge’. 2.4.2. Reduplication Reduplication is productive in 12 patterns identified by Mühlhäusler (1979), although in modern Tok Pisin this does not seem to be as prominent as in earlier stages. An example is the “distributive meaning” expressed by reduplication of numerals in (5): (5)

wanpela wanpela ailan i one one island PRED ‘Each island has its own name’

gat have

nem bilongen yet name POSS it REFLEX

The reduplicated form emphasises that each one has a separate identity (Mühlhäusler 1985d: 439). Occasionally, complete or partial reduplication appears with plural nouns. Two examples from Smith (2002) are: (6)

a. diwai ia i gat ol nil tree FOCUS PRED have PL needle ‘The tree has spines’ b. ol bin taitim ol rorop nabaut they PAST tie PL rope(s) about ‘They tied the ropes and things’

nil needle ia EMPH

Elsewhere, Mühlhäusler (1979) predicted that the grammatical marking of plurality would appear on other parts of the sentence than nouns, and this appeared to be borne out by an incipient system of verb reduplication in apparent agreement with plural subjects in one creolised variety in Manus (Mühlhäusler 1981: 57). However, this does not appear to have been adopted more generally.

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2.4.3. Phrasal elements in verbs Many established Tok Pisin words incorporate an element derived from an English adverb, most notably up, down and out, such as: karamap ‘to cover (up)’, litimap ‘to lift (up)’, painaut ‘to find out’, singaut ‘shout, call (out)’, kamdaun ‘come down’, etc. The extent to which these elements can be regarded as distinct morphemes is debatable, and in most cases it seems that, whatever the ultimate derivation, the item is used as a single unanalysed lexeme, as in: (7)

a. em harim wanpla dok singaut ‘He heard a dog barking’ b. wanpela diwai i pundaun antap ‘A tree fell on top of

lo the

pikinini child’

It can be seen that some of these forms appear to have completely reanalysed such original suffixes as part of the root, as evidenced by the addition of further transitive suffixes, e.g. karamapim ‘to cover (up)’, litimapim ‘to lift (up)’. The words aut ‘out’, daun ‘down’ and ap ‘up’ do exist as independent items, and a good case can be made for a morphemic analysis of words such as kamaut ‘to come out’ into component morphemes kam ‘come’ and aut ‘out’. Indeed, it is not clear whether forms such as this and godaun ‘go down’ should be written as one word or two (Smith 2002). In the last example, there is no separate word *pun, and pundaun could be regarded as a single morpheme or as a bimorphemic construction containing a bound form.

3.

Syntax

The canonical word order is SVO. However, occasionally for the sake of focus or emphasis, elements other than the subject may be moved to initial position. A further discussion of this kind of variation in word order for emphasis appears in section 3.5. on focus and topicalisation. 3.1.

The particle i

A very troublesome particle traditionally referred to as the “predicate marker” is one of the most common lexical items in Tok Pisin. Keesing’s (1988) discussion of its origin also refers to a role as “resumptive pronoun” and “subject referencing pronoun”. The particle does often appear before the predicate but is also frequently used before verbs in other contexts, such as the post-verbal aspect markers stap, kam and go, for example, mi wokobaut i go ‘I walked away’. Traditionally (see

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for example Mihalic 1971), the i has been described as obligatory between third person subjects and predicates, but not used after first and second persons: (8)

a. mi ‘I

kam, yu come, you

kam, come,

em (s)he

i pred

kam comes’

Recent studies, however, have shown that there is a great deal of variability, and suggestions have even been made that the marker may be in the process of dropping out of use altogether (Lynch 1979; Romaine 1993). However, geographical location is an important factor here. Smith (2002) has shown that the i in its traditional predicate marking role is still very common in the New Guinea Islands region, but may be omitted very frequently in the Highlands and North Coast regions of the mainland. Some extreme examples are presented below, the first from New Ireland in the New Guinea Islands region and the second from the Western Highlands. Positions where the marker could but does not occur are marked by [Ø]: (9)

a. Madang i bik, taun i bikpla na planti olsem planti Madang PRED big, town PRED big and many like many man i sae raun long taun na i gat person PRED habit go around in town and PRED have planti ol stua na ol ka i wok long ron long rot. many PL store and PL car PRED CONT in run on road. ‘Madang is big, the town is big and there are lots of people going around in the town and there are lots of stores and cars running on the road.’ b. mipela [Ø] go l’ aus na [Ø] stap nau mipela [Ø] ting osem we go to house and stay now we think that [Ø] nogat wantla problem ba [Ø] kamap osem na mipela not one problem FUT arise so that we femli olgeta mipela [Ø] go family all we go

[Ø] stap lo stay in

aus house

‘We went to the house and stayed there thinking that there were no problems so we stayed in the house.’ It is also evident that collocation is important in determining the retention of i. Most occurrences in areas where the predicate is seldom marked involve the use of i immediately before no, gat, dai or bin, as indicated from the following Highlands samples, where predicate marking is not the rule:

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(10)

a. laki na wanpela kar i no bin kam lucky and one car PRED NEG PAST come ‘Luckily no cars came’ b. sapos wanpela kar i bin kam em [Ø] ken [Ø] krukutim mi if

one

car PRED PAST come it

can

crush

me

‘If a car had come it could have crushed me’ c. disa meri i gat bel ia em [Ø] kam daun this woman PRED have belly FOCUS she come down ‘The woman who was pregnant came down’ d. mipla kukim ol tasol ol i no indai yet. we burn them but they PRED NEG die yet ‘We burned them (the sorcerers) but they hadn’t died yet’ In the last example it is not clear whether the lexeme is dai or i(n)dai, as both forms are commonly encountered. The same is true of the particle inap meaning ‘capable’ and also used as a modal for ability or permission. Although the original form derived from English enough is usually rendered as inap, it appears that it is frequently reinterpreted as i and nap. In Bislama, the plural form of the predicate marker oli is used. This does not generally occur in Tok Pisin, and in most areas of Papua New Guinea no examples are normally encountered. There are, however, some occurrences of ol followed by i in transcripts from the New Guinea Islands region which appear to be a repeated plural pronoun, but also suggest that a reinterpretation as a plural predicate marker could be valid. It is not clear, for example, whether the following extract of speech should be written with oli as a plural marker or a resumptive pronoun ol followed by i: (11)

ol man blong Kevieng ol i/oli gutpla man PL man POSS Kavieng they PRED/PL PRED good man ‘Kavieng people are good people’

3.2.

The verb phrase

3.2.1. Tense, mood and aspect In the absence of inflections to mark tense, mood and aspect (TMA), a number of particles may be placed before or after the verb. Future is marked by the particle bai. This is typically placed before first and second person subjects and after third person singular: mi bai kam ‘I will come’, em bai kam ‘he/she/it will come’; but bai yu go ‘you will go’, etc. Historically, bai is derived from the adverbial by and by placed in clause-initial position, but Sankoff and Laberge (1973) described evidence that grammaticalisation has involved reduction to a single syllable and moving to preverbal posi-

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tion. The reduction of bai may lead to cliticisation, as noted by Lynch (1979) and Sankoff (1986), for example: (12)

ol i bagarap olgeta b’ ol i dai they PRED spoiled all FUT they PRED die ‘(If) They are completely spoiled they will die’ (Smith 2002)

This grammaticalisation path might have been expected to continue to a regular and stable future tense affix, but more recently Sankoff (1991) has re-examined the status of bai and shown that the situation is considerably more complex. Firstly, irrealis or conditional/hypothetical modal uses complicate the picture, and iterativehabitual and punctual aspects may also be involved. More surprisingly, she notes that the particle was sometimes associated not only with future time, but also with present and past time. Romaine (1992) also looked in detail at the role of bai in her examination of the Tok Pisin of young people in Morobe and Madang provinces, showing that the placement of preverbal bai is still very much more frequent after the third person singular pronoun than first or second. She also looks at some early written materials, and questions the sequence of grammaticalisation described by Sankoff and Laberge (1973), and raises the possibility that reduction of baimbai and movement to preverbal position may be independent processes. Also raised is the possibility of the reinterpretation of baimbai as a repeated particle separated by the third person singular pronoun: bai em bai. My own corpus shows that the traditional description of bai’s position relative to pronouns is continuing with first language speakers. It tends to be used in preverbal position much more frequently after third person pronouns, and considerably less after first and second person persons. However, it also reveals that there is considerable variation, with the em bai pattern almost categorical among Highlands speakers, but much more variable in other regions. In the latter case, however, no semantic distinction was identified and it appears to be a case of free variation. In common with other pidgin and creole languages, the unmarked form of the verb is often used to indicate past, especially for non-stative verbs. However, past tense may be unambiguously marked by a preverbal particle, bin, derived from the English ‘been’ as with many other Atlantic and Pacific creoles. Some reports have indicated that the use of bin is declining, but it appears that there is considerable regional variation, with much greater use in the New Guinea Islands region. It also tends to be used with considerable redundancy by many first language speakers. Bin is almost invariably placed immediately before the verb. In addition to past and future time reference, a number of aspectual distinctions are made with other pre-and post-verbal particles. For example, the pre-verbal particle laik, often appearing in the reduced forms lai and la, has a dual role to indicate ‘wanting to do something’ or ‘being about to do something’. In some cases it is difficult to distinguish between the two meanings, and both could equally

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apply. This suggests substrate influence in the re-interpretation of the semantics of the English like, although an internal grammaticalisation path is also quite possible. (13) is an example of an ambiguous interpretation: (13)

em i laik go ‘He/she PRED likes/is about to go

long gaden to the garden’

In other cases, such as em i laik dai ‘he/she is about to die’ the meaning is normally unambiguous. Otherwise the meaning would be disambiguated through context. The ‘about to’ meaning can also be made clear by using adverbials such as klostu or klosap ‘nearly’ in conjunction with la(ik): (14)

biknait nau, klostu laik tulait late night now, nearly ABOUT TO dawn ‘It was late at night, just before dawn’

It appears that the reduced form is more closely associated with the aspectual function than the lexical meaning ‘like’, but analysis is difficult due to the fact that many examples could be interpreted in both senses. It appears that the distinction between laik + verb with the above meanings and laik i + verb as a definite future described in some accounts (e.g. Dutton 1973) is no longer widely used. Completed action is marked post-verbally by the particle pinis derived from the English finish. It appears that in earlier forms of Melanesian Pidgin English, various forms such as bin and pinis competed for past time reference before the stabilisation of bin as a past tense marker and pinis as a completive aspect marker. Mühlhäusler (1985c: 388) notes that bin may still imply some idea of completion. The word pinis occurs as a lexical verb as well as an aspect marker. The intransitive form pinis and transitive pinisim both refer to finishing or terminating something, as in mi pinisim skul ‘I finished school’. As an aspect marker, the postverbal pinis is very commonly used, as in (15): (15)

mi kukim pinis I cook-TRANS COMPLETIVE ‘I have cooked it’

The fact that pinis indicates completion has led to a role for pinis in sequencing discourse, often in conjunction with the word orait (< English all right), as will be described in section 4. Habitual action is marked by the particle save, very often reduced to sa by fluent speakers. The word save, generally accepted to be from the Portuguese sabir ‘to know’ is common in many pidgin and creole languages worldwide, and appears to have entered some of the earliest contact varieties. However, it is generally used as an unsuffixed transitive verb with its lexical meaning ‘to know’, which is also present in Tok Pisin:

Tok Pisin: morphology and syntax

(16)

mi no save long tok ples bilong I NEG know about language POSS ‘I don’t know your language’

731

yu you

Habitual action may be marked with considerable redundancy by fluent speakers, as with this extract from a young man in Bougainville: (17) mipla sa harim ol gan i pairap. Nau ol militens we HABIT hear PL gun PRED fire. Now PL militant sa kam HABIT come

ol sa brukim ol they HABIT break PL

sto nambaut store about

‘We heard the guns firing. The militants came and broke into the stores and things’ Again substrate influence is suspected in the initial reinterpretation of the semantics of save in its current dual role. Ambiguous utterances are still found, where a habitual interpretation or the meaning ‘to know’ would be equally valid: (18)

Mi ‘I

save know

wokim banara how to/habitually make a bow’

The reduction of save to sa as a habitual aspect marker could effectively differentiate it from the save meaning ‘to know’, which is generally not reduced. Lynch’s data showed exactly such a categorical distinction, and he found that both sa and la were reduced only in their aspectual role, and not in their regular verbal use (1979: 8). However, more recently, it appears that fluent first language speakers are also reducing the lexical form, although my corpus shows that the reduced form sa is used with overwhelmingly greater frequency in its aspectual role (Smith 2002: 85). Continuous or durative aspect may be marked pre-verbally by the expression wok long or post-verbally by (i) stap. The latter contrasts with the pre-verbal use of stap in Bislama. The use of wok long may have connotations of being busy or actively engaged in an activity. Examples of use are mi wok long raitim pas ‘I am (busy) writing a letter’ and ol i wokabaut i stap ‘they are walking’. Occasionally, both constructions may be used together, as in ol i wok long stori stap ‘they were telling stories’. Use of i go and i kam after the verb can indicate directionality as in ol i wokabaut i kam ‘they were walking (towards us)’ and ol i wokabaut i go ‘they were walking away’. However, i go may be used after verbs to indicate something continuing for a long time. Extreme lengths of time can be indicated by repeating a number of times: bebi wok long krai i go i go i go ‘the baby kept on crying and crying’. In Tok Pisin, the most common modals are mas, ken and inap, associated with obligation, permission and possibility. The particle mas from English must can imply not only personal obligation to do something, but also an assumption that something must be true, corresponding to a distinction which is sometimes made between deontic and epistemic modality. These are illustrated respectively by mi

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Geoff Smith

mas wokim wanpela samting pastaim ‘I must do something (first)’ and em mas brata bilong mi i kam ‘it must be my brother (coming)’. There is rarely any ambiguity between the two meanings. Both ken from English can and inap from English enough can also have a modal role, implying permission or capability. Generally, ken implies permission (yu no ken kam insait ‘you can’t come inside’) while inap implies capability (mi inap pinisim dispela kaikai ‘I can finish this food’). But occasionally inap is also used in the former role: inap mi tokim yu wanpela samting? ‘can I tell you something?’. One or two other particles, although not traditionally described in this role, appear to be undergoing grammaticalisation as aspect or modal particles. The verb kirap, for example (from English get up), is frequently used in some areas in a discourse regulating role (cf. section 4 below). The particle bek ‘back’ also appears to be undergoing grammaticalisation from an adverb to a post-verbal modal particle, indicating that something is happening again after a break, equivalent to the English re-prefix, for example em i marit bek ‘she re-married’. In addition, some speakers borrow English modals such as shud ‘should’, but this is uncommon, and restricted to heavily anglicised speech. 3.2.2. Verb serialisation There has been considerable interest in serial verb constructions in pidgin and creole languages, mainly focussing on Atlantic Creoles. Tok Pisin, in common with other varieties of Melanesian Pidgin, has a number of such constructions, and whatever the “naturalness” of such forms, there is also substantial substrate motivation in the languages of the area. A number of verbs such as go, kam and stap have already been discussed in relation to their directionality and aspectual role, but other verbs may appear serially to encode more specific meanings, as in: (19)

a. em kam kamap long ples he/she come arrive at village ‘(S)he arrived at the village’ b. em i sindaun smail long (s)he PRED sit down smile at ‘(S)he sat down smiling at him’ c. em i brumim rausim ol (s)he PRED brush discard PL ‘(S)he swept away the rubbish’

em him/her pipia rubbish

However, although in Bislama a number of serial verb constructions involving the verbs agensem, kasem, bitim, raonem and folem have developed into prepositions (Crowley 1990), this does not appear to have occurred to any significant extent in Tok Pisin. Nonetheless, some serial constructions could be involved in ongoing grammaticalisation, as with the use of kam and go described above, and also pos-

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733

sibly with kirap ‘get up, initiate’ and stat ‘to begin’, which appear to approach an aspectual role in the examples below: (20)

a. nau ol stat kuk lo kleipot now they start cook in clay pot ‘They started cooking in the clay pot’ b. ol kirap pait na ol pait. they got up/started fight and they fight ‘A fight started’

In the case of kirap, there is again ambiguity between the meanings ‘get up’ and ‘initiate’ which may have motivated a re-interpretation: (21)

dewel ia kirap holim em na em karim go lo aus spirit ANAPH got up/start hold him and he carry go to house blo em. POSS him ‘The spirit got up and held him/started to hold him, and took him to his house’

3.3.

The noun phrase

The noun phrase in Tok Pisin can consist of a pronoun or a noun, either bare or accompanied by pre- or post-modifiers, such as quantifiers, other pre-nominal modifiers and post-nominal modifiers. Pronouns are generally invariable in form, the only exception being the alternative form -en of the third person singular em. This -en form is only found after long or bilong. It is normally written as an enclitic, although solid evidence that its phonological status is different from that of em is lacking. (22)

a. Em i haus bilong em or Em i haus bilongen ‘It is his/her house’ b. mi givim han long em or mi giving han longen ‘I have him/her a (helping) hand’

The -en form is generally unstressed, whereas em may be used to focus attention on the pronoun. Quantifiers include numerals and the terms olgeta ‘all’, planti ‘many’, sampela ‘some’ and liklik ‘few, small’. Examples of other pre-nominal modifiers are wanpela ‘one’, dispela ‘this’, narapela ‘another’ and ol (plural). The category of post-nominal modifiers includes the demonstrative ia, possessive constructions with bilong, and restrictive relative clauses or adjectives. Sankoff and Mazzie (1991) suggest that wanpela and dispela are prime candidates for grammaticalisation as indefinite and definite articles, but report that

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they were used only sporadically in this role. In my own data (Smith 2002) both wanpela ‘one’ and sampela ‘some’ did continue with a quantifying role as ‘one in number’ and ‘some but not all’ but are also frequently used in a way analogous to articles: (23)

a. mipla wetim man bilong wanpla anti blong mi we wait man POSS one/art aunt POSS me ‘We were waiting for the husband of an auntie of mine’ b. yu lukim sampla abus o nogat? you see some game animal or not? ‘Can you see any animals (to hunt)?’

Dispela ‘this’ appears to be further along the grammaticalisation route, and is undergoing considerable reduction and loss of stressed syllables, indicating possible future status as a definite marker. Typical renderings are displa, disla or sla, as in: (24)

yu kisim sla buk ‘Take this/the book’

Moreover, dispela or its reduced forms are often used in conjunction with ol for plural referents, as in: (25)

ol sla ol man meri i stap lo ples PL DEM PL man woman PRED stay/be at village ‘These people were in the village’

This suggests the possible evolution of sla as a singular and slol as a plural definite article. So far, however, this is mere conjecture extrapolating from some existing tendencies. 3.3.1. Relativisation There are a number of ways of signalling relative clauses in Tok Pisin. These include the absence of overt markers, often accompanied by distinctive intonation (Wurm 1971), pronominalisation with personal pronouns or the relative pronouns wonem, husat and we, and bracketing with ia (ya). In addition, the clause-final use of longen is frequently involved in marking relatives in the Highlands region. Some examples of each are given below. Relatives may lack overt marking if the meaning is clear from the context, for example in (26): (26)

ol i lukim dispela pasin ankol blo em wokim they PRED see this fashion/behaviour uncle POSS he do/make ‘They saw this kind of thing their uncle was doing’

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However, in my corpus, this is most frequently used when the word dai is involved, as in: (27)

tupla brata mama i bin dai stap wantaim papa two brother mother PRED PAST die live with father ‘The two brothers whose mother had died lived with their father’

It appears that in the early days of Tok Pisin this kind of structure was more common. However, with a demand for increasing sophistication of meaning, a number of other mechanisms developed. The use of a personal pronoun to introduce a relative may help to make the meaning more clear. In (28), for example, the relative clause is introduced by the third person singular pronoun: (28)

em i gat wanpla lapun meri em sa stap long hap he PRED have one old woman she HABIT stay/live at place ‘There was an old woman who lived there’

Distinct relative pronouns (h)usat and we may also be used, but these are less typical of spoken styles and are used more in the written register, for example, in Wantok Niuspepa reports, especially those translated from English. However, it appears that the use of husat as a relative may be increasing, especially in varieties in contact with English. (29)

Em i painim ol pikinini usat ol i biket he PRED look for PL child who they PRED disobedient ‘He was looking for the children who were misbehaving’

The use of we is interesting in that it appears to have been generalised from the meaning ‘where’ to a more generic relative to refer first to human, then to non-human animate and then to inamate referents as well. The examples in (30) illustrate this gradation: (30)

a. em wanpla baret we wara sa ron it one drain which water HABIT run ‘It was one drain where water flowed’ b. mi bin lukim wanpla krokodail we em i traim lo I PAST see one crocodile which it PRED try to atekim mipla attack us ‘I saw a crocodile which tried to attack us’ c. em papa bl’ em we helpim em it father POSS him who help him ‘It was his father who helped him’

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Sankoff drew attention to another means of relativisation arising out of discourse, bracketing by the deictic particle ia, derived from English here, which is also very common as a focal or anaphoric marker. In the following example, the relative clause is delimited by ia: (31)

stereo ia mitla putim lo kout ia, em no lukim stereo REL we put in coat REL he not see ‘The stereo which we put in the coat he didn’t see’

One sometimes gains the impression from reading secondary sources that this mechanism is neat, well-defined and regular, but in reality it is much more messy. One or other of the pair is frequently omitted, and it may be difficult to decide in some cases whether an element should be interpreted as a relative clause or whether it is merely a case of anaphoric or focal reference. In parts of the Highlands region, especially the Western Highlands, longen is often involved in relative clause isolation. As noted above, longen is the unstressed form of long em ‘to it’: (32)

Mi lap longen ‘I smiled at him’

Again this structure may have arisen out of reanalysis in discourse. A gradation of examples showing the ambiguity underlying reanalysis is shown in the following. In (33) longen clearly refers to a location, but appears to have a secondary clause delimiting role: (33)

em putim tupla lo wanpla ples we ol sa putim man longen he put two at one place where they HABIT put man in it ‘He put two at one place where they kept people (prisoner)’

In other cases, however, reference to location is not so easy to demonstrate, and the clause delimiting function appears primary: (34)

i man Wabag ia em poisinim em longen ia wokobaut PRED man Wabag REL he poison him at it REL walk kam i come PRED

go go

‘It was the Wabag man who poisoned him approaching’ In (34), ia-bracketing as described above also contributes to the delimitation of the relative clause, although in some other examples, like (35), ia is not present: (35)

em smelim pik tupla bin kilim longen na em kam klostu he smell pig two PAST kill REL and he come close ‘He smelled the pig which the two had killed and he approached’

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3.4.

737

Complementation

A number of words such as long, olsem, na and in some areas se are used to introduce complements in Tok Pisin. Mühlhäusler (1985b) also gives bilong, baimbai, sapos and we in creolised varieties. This list represents a variety of word types: prepositions, adverbs, conjunctions and serial verb constructions, which have presumably developed during syntactic reanalysis in discourse to adopt the role of complementiser. The word olsem¸ frequently reduced to osem and sometimes further to sem or se, is the most common of the above, in particular in conjunction with the verb tok to introduce direct or indirect quotations: (36)

Em bin tok olsem “mi les he PAST say COMPL “I tired ‘He said “I’m tired of you”’

lo of

yu” you”

It may also be used with a variety of other verbs: (37)

Rabaul i luk olsem i gutpla ples Rabaul PRED look COMPL PRED good place ‘Rabaul looked like it was a good place’

As noted above, olsem is occasionally reduced to se, but se itself has for some time been another form which is frequently used in introducing complements, as in Bislama. However, this appears to be confined to parts of the New Guinea Islands, as in this extract recorded in East New Britain: (38)

meri ia i ting se em tewel ia na em woman ANAPH PRED think COMPL it spirit EMPH and she i pret PRED afraid ‘The woman thought that it was a spirit and she was afraid’

The use of we in relativisation has been noted above. Its use as a complementiser appears to be uncommon in my corpus, with only one or two tokens: (39)

em tok we ol no givim em he say COMPL they NEG give him ‘He said that they did not pay enough’

3.5.

Focus and topicalisation

planti man much money

As mentioned previously, the canonical word order is SVO, but occasionally focussed or topicalised elements appear in initial position. Sometimes topicalisation is distinguished from focus in that the topic has a co-indexed pronoun whereas fo-

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cus involves emphasis without this. A number of mechanisms for focus and topicalisation exist in Tok Pisin and were first described in detail by Sankoff (1993). An example of fronting an element for focus is (40): (40)

pipia bilong em yumi rubbish POSS him we ‘His rubbish is what we eat’

save kaikai HABIT eat

Question words such as we ‘where’ and wonem ‘which’ may also be fronted for emphasis: (41)

wonem skul yu givim em? ‘Which schooling did you give him?’ (Sankoff 1993)

In addition, the third person singular pronoun em sometimes precedes noun phrases in constructions which appear to be similar to clefts in English, as in Sankoff’s example in (42): (42)

nogat, em wantok i putim long maunten ia no, it friend PRED put on mountain EMPH ‘No, it was my friend who was wearing it on the mountainside’

In addition, there are a number of distinct focal particles in Tok Pisin. One of these is the word yet, which appears to have been derived from English yet, but has been heavily influenced by the Tolai iat. Iat has a meaning similar to ‘yet’ but also extra meanings, including a focus marking role. In addition to the meaning similar to English ‘yet’ (often in the negative), the Tok Pisin yet can act as a reflexive, usually in conjunction with a pronoun: (43)

a. em bin askim em yet he PAST ask him REFLEX ‘He asked himself’ b. em bin lukautim em olsem pikinini blong em yet she PAST look after him like child POSS her REFLEX ‘She looked after him like her own child’ c. em ples blo mipla yet it village POSS us REFLEX ‘It’s our own village’ d. yu yet yu les lo mi you FOCUS/REFLEX you tired of me ‘It’s you that’s tired of me’

Yet may also be used as an intensifier of adverbs or adjectives, mainly in collocation with the words bipo ‘before’ and mo ‘more’. Typical traditional stories, for example, begin something like:

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long taim bifo yet i gat wanpla yangpla meri at time before EMPH PRED exist one young girl ‘Long, long ago, there was a young girl’

4.

Discourse processes

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Discourse processes appear to have been involved in the grammaticalisation of some items described above. In the present section a brief look will be taken at some discourse features of Tok Pisin. Few detailed accounts of discourse features have appeared, the most detailed apparently being Lomax (1983). Lomax follows Halliday and Hassan’s (1976) model and notes some ways in which cohesion is maintained, besides looking at deixis and lexical cohesion as exemplified by letters to the editor and traditional stories to Wantok Niuspepa. Smith (2002) looks at some of these processes, and notes that conjunctions such as bikos and bat have been borrowed from English to provide alternatives to the more usual long wanem ‘because’ and tasol ‘but’. The particle ia (also sometimes spelled ya and hia) has already been discussed in relation to relative clause delimitation. Its other main use is as an anaphoric marker to signify that something has already been referred to: (45)

em i lukim wanpla lapun man... lapun man ia kirap He PRED see one old man... old man ANAPH get up na tok ... and say ‘he saw an old man... the old man got up and said...’

In (45), the role of kirap ‘get up, initiate’ in discourse is also worth mentioning. The meaning of em i kirap na tok olsem is literally ‘he got up and said’ that which is in fact a form which sometimes appears in Papua New Guinea English, but the effect is to indicate the initiation of a new speaker’s conversational turn. The particle pinis has also been mentioned above (section 3.2.1.) as a completive aspect marker. Another common use is in conjunction with the term orait ‘all right’ to signal a new stage in a narrative: (46)

mi kukim rais. Kukim pinis, orait mi lusim I cook rice. Cook COMPLET, then I leave ‘I cooked the rice. Having cooked it, I left the house.’

haus. house.

Another interesting example of apparent grammaticalisation concerns the case of yes ‘yes’ and nogat ‘no’ which appear to have been reinterpreted in a discourse role. Lomax (1983: 41) notes that yes is a common rhetorical feature of Wantok letters, and appears to be best translated as ‘well then’ or a similar phrase:

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(47)

Mi gat bikpela kros long ol plisman. Yes, ol plisman ... ‘I am very angry with the police. Well then, you policemen...’

In Smith (2002), a number of puzzling cases of nogat ‘no’ were examined, and it appears among some speakers in the North Coastal region of the New Guinea mainland to be best interpreted as a conjunction meaning something like ‘when all of a sudden’, indicating the unexpected onset of an event: (48)

a. mipla plei go ia nogat ol ringim bel we play go EMPH no they ring bell ‘We were playing when all of a sudden the bell rang’ b. Mipla sidaun na stori stap ia nogat diwai kam. we sit down and story CONTIN EMPH no branch come ‘We were sitting telling stories when (without warning) the branch broke off.’

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Baker, Philip 1987 Historical developments in Chinese Pidgin English and the nature of the relationship between various Pidgin Englishes of the Pacific region. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 2: 163−207. Crowley, Terry 1990 From Beach-la-mar to Bislama: The emergence of a national language in Vanuatu. (Oxford Studies in Language Contact.) Oxford: Clarendon Press. Dutton, Thomas Edward 1973 Conversational New Guinea Pidgin. (Pacific Linguistics, D12.) Canberra: Australian National University. Halliday, Michael A.K. and Ruquaiya Hasan 1976 Cohesion in English. London: Longman. Lomax, R. W. 1983 Aspects of cohesion and discourse structure in Tok Pisin (Melanesian Pidgin). M.A. thesis, University of Leeds. Lynch, John 1979 Changes in Tok Pisin morphology. Paper presented at 13th PNG Linguistic Society Congress, Port Moresby. Mihalic, Frank 1971 The Jacaranda Dictionary and Grammar of Melanesian Pidgin. Milton/ Queensland: Jacaranda.

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Mühlhäusler, Peter 1979 Growth and Structure of the Lexicon of New Guinea Pidgin. (Pacific Linguistics, C52.) Canberra: Australian National University. 1981 The development of the category of number in Tok Pisin. In: Pieter Muysken (ed.), Generative Studies on Creole Languages, 35−84. Dordrecht: Foris. 1985a Good and bad pidgin: nogut yu toktok kranki. In: Wurm and Mühlhäusler (eds.), 275−291. 1985b Internal development of Tok Pisin. In: Wurm and Mühlhäusler (eds.), 75−166. 1985c Syntax of Tok Pisin. In: Wurm and Mühlhäusler (eds.), 341−421. 1985d The lexical system of Tok Pisin. Wurm and Mühlhäusler (eds.), 423−440. Romaine, Suzanne 1992 Language, Education and Development: Urban and Rural Tok Pisin in Papua New Guinea. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 1993 The decline of predicate marking in Tok Pisin. In: Francis Byrne and John Holm (eds.), Atlantic meets Pacific: A global view of pidginization and creolization, 251−260. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Sankoff, Gillian 1991 Using the future to explain the past. In: Francis Byrne and Thom Huebner (eds.), Development and Structure of Creole Languages: Essays in Honor of Derek Bickerton, 61−74. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. 1993 Focus in Tok Pisin. In: Francis Byrne and Donald Winford (eds.), Focus and Grammatical Relations in Creole Languages, 117−140. Amsterdam/ Philadelphia: Benjamins. Sankoff, Gillian and Suzanne Laberge 1973 On the acquisition of native speakers by a language. Kivung 6: 32−47. Sankoff, Gillian and Claudia Mazzie 1991 Determining noun phrases in Tok Pisin. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Linguistics 6: 1−24. Sankoff, Gillian (ed.) 1986 The Social Life of Language. Pittsburgh: University of Pennsylvania Press. Smith, Geoff P. 1994 Husat i bin othoraizim? New verbs in Manus Tok Pisin. Paper presented to Seventh International Conference of the Society for Pidgin and Creole Linguistics, Georgetown, Guyana, August 1994. 2002 Growing up with Tok Pisin: Contact, Creolization and Change in Papua New Guinea’s National Language. London: Battlebridge. Wurm, Stephen A. 1971 New Guinea Highlands Pidgin: Course materials. (Pacific Linguistics, D3.) Canberra: Australian National University. Wurm, Stephen A. and Peter Mühlhäusler (eds.) 1985 Handbook of Tok Pisin (New Guinea Pidgin). (Pacific Linguistics, C70.) Canberra: Australian National University.

Hawai‘i Creole: morphology and syntax Kent Sakoda and Jeff Siegel

1.

Overview

Hawai‘i Creole is a creole language lexified predominantly by English but also by other languages such as Hawaiian and Japanese. It is spoken by approximately 600,000 people in the American state of Hawai‘i. For details on its lexicon and origins (including an account of the influence of other languages on its morphosyntax), see section 1 of the chapter on the phonology of Hawai‘i Creole (Sakoda and Siegel, other volume). Although the lexicon of Hawai‘i Creole is closely related to English, its morphology and syntax are quite distinct. In general, like other creole languages, the amount of bound morphology is less than that of the lexifier language and there are quite different morphosyntactic rules for expressing tense, aspect, modality and negation, as well as for relativization, complementation and focusing. The situation is complicated by the fact that the majority of speakers of Hawai‘i Creole also know English, and there is a continuum from “heavy” varieties furthest from Standard English (the basilect) to “light” varieties closest to Standard English (the acrolect), with a great deal of variation in between (the mesolects). The description here is based primarily on the basilect, but some of the mesolectal variants are also indicated. In this description, particular Hawai‘i Creole words and grammatical morphemes are given in the text in the phonemic Odo orthography, followed in parentheses by other, mainly etymological, spellings that may be found more commonly in written versions of the language. Longer examples are also given, from both spoken and written Hawai‘i Creole. The spoken examples come from recordings or from our own experience, and are given in the Odo orthography. The written examples are taken from a few works of published literature and from the Pidgin translation of the Bible (Da Jesus Book). These examples are given in their original orthography (i.e., as they appear in print), followed by the source (author, year and page number for literature, page number and biblical reference for examples from Da Jesus Book). 2.

The verb phrase

Like other creole languages, Hawai‘i Creole has little bound inflectional morphology in the verb phrase. There are no agreement markers to index the number, person or gender of the subject or object. With only one exception (the -ing suffix

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which is used to indicate the progressive), there are no affixes to indicate distinctions in tense, aspect or modality. Rather, again like other creoles, Hawai‘i Creole uses preverbal independent morphemes for this purpose. 2.1.

Tense markers

There are three different tense markers in Hawai‘i Creole: for future, past, and past habitual. Each one occurs at the beginning of the verb phrase. Future tense is usually marked by gon (goin, going): (1)

a. Ai gon bai wan pikap. ‘I’m going to buy a pickup.’ b. She goin miss da prom. ‘She’ll miss the prom.’ (Kearns 2000: 13)

Past tense is most often indicated by wen (wen’, went) before the verb: (2)

a. Ai wen si om. ‘I saw him.’ b. Dey wen cut down da mango tree… ‘They cut down the mango tree…’ (Tonouchi 1998: 245)

The marker wen is sometimes reduced to en or just n as in the following example: (3)

Make me feel like da bugga in da play we’n read lass year. ‘He makes me feel like the guy in the play we read last year.’ (Kearns 2000: 5)

Two other preverbal morphemes are also used by some speakers to mark past tense: bin, especially by speakers of heavy varieties and older speakers, and haed (had), especially by speakers from the island of Kaua‘i: (4)

a. Ai bin klin ap mai pleis fo da halade. ‘I cleaned up my place for the holidays.’ b. De haed ple BYU laes wik. ‘They played BYU last week.’

A few irregular past tense verb forms from English are also frequently used. The most common is sed (said). It is rare to hear wen sei. Others are sin (seen) or saw, keim (came), and tol (told). These occur in variation with wen si, wen kam and wen tel. When these forms are used, they do not normally co-occur with the preverbal tense marker. Some examples are given in (5): (5)

a. Shi sed shi wen smok om. (She said she wen smoke em.) ‘She said she smoked it.’

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b. Shi sin wan sigaret. (She seen one cigarette.) ‘She saw a cigarette.’ c. Hi tol om, No. (He tol em, No.) ‘He told him, No.’ The past habitual is indicated by yustu (used to): (6)

a. Ai yustu ple futbawl. ‘I used to play football.’ b. Your mahda use to tink so. ‘Your mother used to think so.’ (Kearns 2000: 10)

In what follows, an outline will be given of the major differences in tense marking between Hawai‘i Creole and English: in Hawai‘i Creole, the future tense marker gon (goin, going) can be used to mark not only actions and events that have not occurred yet, but also future actions being talked about in the past that may have occurred already, as in (7): (7)

a. When I went Farrington, brah, you no can talk Pidgin, you going run home every day from school. ‘When I went to Farrington [High School], brother, if you couldn’t speak in Pidgin, you would [have to] run home from school everyday.’ (Kearns 2000: 32) b. Da gai sed hi gon fiks mi ap wit wan blain deit. ‘The guy said he’d fix me up with a blind date.’

Some Hawai‘i Creole speakers, however, use waz (was) to mark such past-future constructions: (8)

He said dat she was going help all us guys go heaven. (Lum 1998b: 225)

Hawai‘i Creole also differs from English in the use of past tense marking in that tense neutralization often occurs. Once the past time frame is established with an adverb or a verb marked for past tense, it is not necessary to mark the subsequent verbs: (9)

He went wink at me and tell, “Choo, choo, choo” and laugh backwards, you know like he sucking air in, “Hurh, hurh, hurh”. ‘He winked at me and said, “Choo, choo, choo” and laughed backwards, you know like he was sucking air in, “Hurh, hurh, hurh”.’ (Lum 1999: 26)

Furthermore, wen in Hawai‘i Creole is often used only to indicate relative past, i.e. something that had occurred previously in relation to the actual time being

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discussed. So if an event happened before another event (that is, even further in the past) then the past tense marker is used. The following sentence, for example, comes from a narrative of past events: (10)

Da Man/Lady stay piss off dat I went change da channel. ‘The man/lady was pissed off that I had changed the channel.’ (Lum 1999: 27)

On the other hand, perhaps because of the influence of English, some Hawai‘i Creole speakers, and especially writers, use the past tense marker wen more frequently: (11)

Dat time nobody wen bodda da peopo dat wen come togedda to church all ova Judea, Galilee an Samaria. Dey wen trus God mo an mo, an God’s Spesho Spirit wen kokua dem. ‘At that time nobody bothered the people that came together for church all over Judea, Galilee, and Samaria. They trusted God more and more, and God’s Special Spirit helped them.’ (Da Jesus Book, Jesus Guys 9: 33)

2.2.

Modals

The modals in Hawai‘i Creole are separate words which occur before the verb to indicate ability, permission, possibility, volition or obligation. kaen (can) indicates ability, permission or possibility: (12)

a. Jo kaen ple. ‘Joe can play.’ b. You tink you can lift dis? ‘Do you think you can lift this?’ (Lum 1999: 23)

laik (like) indicates volition: (13)

a. Ai laik go Vegas. ‘I want to go to Las Vegas.’ b. You like come? ‘Do you want to come?’ (Ching 1998: 182)

Note that laik (like) can also act as a verb meaning ‘like’ or ‘want’, especially before a noun phase, as in: Mama rili laik daet wan ‘Mama really likes that one’, or before the -ing form of a verb, as in Ai laik going Las Vegas ‘I like going to Las Vegas’. The other modals indicate various degrees of obligation: gata (gotta) and haeftu (have to) imply some outside pressure to do something now or in the future:

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(14)

a. Ai gata bring om maiself. ‘I’ve got to bring it myself.’ b. Okay, but I gotta eat early. ‘Okay, but I have to eat early.’ (Tonouchi 1998: 245)

(15)

a. Jo haeftu wrk frs bifo hi kaen ple. ‘Joe has to work first before he can play.’ b. All da time you have to try your best. ‘You always have to try your best.’ (Lum 1998b: 227)

beta (bettah, better) indicates that it would be good to do something or else something bad might happen: (16)

a. You bettah quit that, or we going broke yo’ head! ‘You’d better quit that or we’ll break your head!’ (Pak 1998a: 117) b. So, you betta do um! ‘So, you’d better do it!’ (Da Jesus Book, 14 [Matthew 5:33])

sapostu (suppose to) can imply a past obligation as well as a present or future one: (17)

a. Bil sapostu finish hiz homwrk yestade bat hi neva finish. ‘Bill was supposed to finish his homework yesterday, but he didn’t finish it.’ b. You suppose to call da teachas at UH “doctah”… ‘You’re supposed to call the teachers at UH “doctor”…’ (Kearns 2000: 27)

Some tense markers can occur before the modals kaen (can), laik (like), haeftu (have to), and sapostu (suppose to); however, some of these combinations are quite infrequent: (18)

a. Hi bin kaen go? ‘Was it possible for him to go?’ b. Herod wen like kill him. ‘Herod wanted to kill him.’ (Da Jesus Book, 43 [Matthew 14:5]) c. De gon kaen kam o wat? ‘Will they be able to come or what?’ d. Yu gon haeftu pau da wrk. ‘You’re going to have to finish the work.’ e. Shi wen sapostu klin da haus. ‘She was supposed to clean the house.’

In some varieties, waz (was) is used to show past tense before the modal sapostu (suppose to) as well as before the future marker gon (goin, going) as previously mentioned:

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(19)

Last weekend I was suppose to go wit Vernalani folks to da Pure Heart concert. (Kearns 2000: 29)

2.3.

Chrai (try)

The verb chrai (try) ‘try’ can occur after the tense marker and/or modal and before the main verb: (20)

a. I went try draw one horn of plenty. ‘I tried to draw a horn of plenty.’ (Lum 1998a: 71) b. I like try explain someting to you. ‘I want to try and explain something to you.’ (Kearns 2000: 13)

In imperative sentences, chrai (try) functions as a mitigator: (21)

a. Chrai paes da rais. ‘Could you pass the rice.’ b. Faye, try wait! ‘Faye, wait a minute!’ (Kearns 2000: 28) c. Terry, try look what I found! ‘Terry, have a look at what I found!’ (Pak 1998a: 101)

2.4.

Aspect markers

Hawai‘i Creole has three aspect markers which occur before the main verb to mark the following: progressive, perfective, inchoative, and completive. They are ste (stei, stay), stat (start), and pau ‘finish’. Each of these markers can also occur on its own as a main verb. As aspect markers, they occur mainly before verbs which are active in Hawai‘i Creole, but can also occur before some verbs which are stative, such as kam (come) ‘become’ (see section 2.6.). Progressive: The most common aspect marker is ste (stei, stay), which is used to indicate progressive (or continuous) aspect. It can occur before either the plain form of the verb, or more commonly, before the verb with the progressive suffix, -ing: (22)

a. Wi ste meik da plaen. ‘We’re making the plan.’ b. …my grandpa stay listening to his Japanese radio station. ‘…my grandpa is listening to his Japanese radio station.’ (Tonouchi 1998: 245) c. I stay drowning my sorrows in Faye and Shakespeare. ‘I was drowning my sorrows in Faye and Shakespeare.’ (Kearns 2000: 26)

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For some speakers, ste + V-ing implies an action that is in progress just at the moment, while ste + V implies a more durative or habitual action. Nowadays in Hawai‘i Creole, the aspect marker ste is frequently left out, and progressive aspect may be indicated with only the -ing form of the verb: (23)

a. He helping me. ‘He’s helping me.’ (Ching 1998: 187) b. She talking to herself. ‘She’s talking to herself.’ (Lum 1998b: 230) c. I t’ink Chunky playing one big joke on us. ‘I think Chunky is playing a big joke on us.’ (Pak 1998a: 116)

Perfective: The marker ste (stei, stay) can also be used for perfective aspect, indicating that a condition resulting from the action of the verb, or a particular state, has been accomplished. In this case, only the plain form of the verb can be used (i.e. without the -ing suffix): (24)

a. Ai ste kuk da stu awredi. ‘I already cooked the stew.’ b. Evribadi ste finish. ‘Everyone is finished.’ c. When I stay come one old man… ‘When I’ve become an old man…’ (Kearns 2000: 26)

Inchoative: The preverbal marker stat (start) indicates that the action of the main verb is beginning. It normally co-occurs with the -ing suffix on the main verb: (25)

a. Mai sista gon stat pleing saka. ‘My sister is going to start playing soccer.’ b. And I wen’ start eating the Raisinets all one time. ‘And I started eating the Raisinets all at once.’ (Yamanaka 1998a: 153)

Completive: The marker pau is used for completive aspect. It can also be used as a main verb meaning ‘finish’ or an adjective meaning ‘finished’. As an aspect marker, pau occurs before the plain form of the main verb (i.e. without the -ing suffix): (26)

a. You supposed to burn da Daruma dolls aftah you pau get your wish… ‘You’re supposed to burn the Daruma dolls after you’ve got your wish.’ (Lum 1998b: 224) b. Jesus pau use all dis kine story to teach. (Da Jesus Book, 43 [Matthew 13:53]) ‘Jesus finished using this kind of story to teach with.’

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As for the co-occurrence of aspect markers with tense markers and modals: the tense markers can occur with the aspect markers stat (start) (see examples [25a] and [25b] above) and ste (stei, stay): (27)

a. De gon ste ple da geim tumaro. ‘They’ll be playing the game tomorrow.’ b. Hi wen ste it. ‘He was eating.’

As can be seen in (27b), the wen + ste construction is used in basilectal Hawai‘i Creole to indicate past progressive. In this construction, the V-ing form is not permitted. But in mesolectal and acrolectal varieties, the past progressive is marked with waz (was) rather than wen + ste, and this co-occurs only with the -ing form of the verb: (28)

a. De bot waz duing daet. ‘They both were doing that.’ b. What you was tinking? ‘What were you thinking?’ (Kearns 2000: 21)

Some of the modals can also occur before ste (stei, stay), but most often with the perfective meaning: (29)

a. Yu sapostu ste mek da rais awredi. ‘You were supposed to have finished cooking the rice.’ b. Yu kaen ste mek evriting bifo ai kam? ‘Can you finish doing everything before I come?’

2.5.

Serial verbs

Two verbs, go and kam (come), can occur in a serial construction just before the main verb or before the auxiliary or before chrai (try). These serial verbs have several functions. Most often, they indicate movement in space corresponding to the meanings of go and kam (come), as in the examples in (30): (30)

a. We can go find dah treasure and take ’em. ‘We can go find the treasure and take it.’ (Pak 1998a: 103) b. Mo bettah he come play handball wit us. ‘It’d be better if he came to play handball with us.’ (Lum 1999: 19–20) c. So da worka guys wen go check out all da roads. ‘So the workers went to check out all the roads.’ (Da Jesus Book, 66 [Matthew 22: 10]) d. I going come sit on you. ‘I’m gonna come sit on you.’ (Lum 1998b: 229)

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A serial verb can be preceded by a tense marker, such as wen or gon (goin, going), as illustrated in (30c) and (30d) above. It can also be preceded by some modals: (31)

a. I gotta go rake. (Lum 1998b: 71) b. We can go find dah treasure. (Pak 1998a: 103) c. You like go see one movie wit your dad? ‘Do you want to go see a movie with your dad?’ (Kearns 2000: 8)

Another related function of the serial verb go (but not kam) is that it can emphasize the intention involved in the action of the main verb (as with English to go and do something), implying that the person involved goes out of their way to do it: (32)

a. Wai yu go du daet? ‘Why did you go and do that?’ b. Shi go kuk rais evri de. ‘She goes and cooks rice every day.’ c. So she wen go hug him like that. ‘So she went and hugged him like that.’ (Labov 1990: 28)

The verb go before the main verb can also indicate movement in time, more exactly away from the present. So, like the tense marker gon (goin, going), it can mark a future action or event, as in (33): (33)

Ai go kam tumaro. ‘I’ll come tomorrow.’

It is in this sense of movement away, plus intention, that go is used in some commands to indicate an action to be done elsewhere or later: (34)

a. Go color one eye fo me. ‘Color one eye for me.’ (Lum 1998b: 229) b. Try go read da Memoirs of the Hawaiian Revolution. ‘You should read the Memoirs of the Hawaiian Revolution.’ (Kearns 2000: 30)

But with go, as opposed to tense marker gon (goin, going), the action or event is usually one that has not been previously planned, is not immediate, and may be more hypothetical than definite; in fact, the action might be intended but never take place. (35)

a. Mobeta wi go tel hr. ‘It would be better if we tell her.’ b. I wen ask Fahdah Eugene fo go pray fo you every day. ‘I asked Father Eugene to pray for you every day.’ (Kearns 2000: 34) c. Maybe das why he got all salty. Nobody pay attention to him. Nobody talk story with him. Nobody go bother him.

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‘Maybe that’s why he got angry. Nobody paid attention to him. Nobody chatted with him. Nobody would bother him.’ (Pak 1998b: 321) d. How you tink one guy goin go bus inside one big moke house…? ‘How will a guy go and break into a strong man’s house…?’ (Da Jesus Book, 36 [Matthew 12: 29]) When go is used in these ways (except in the imperative), it can be preceded by the tense markers wen, as in example (32c), and gon (goin, going), as in (35d). Serial verbs can occur either before or after aspect markers. In the following examples, go occurs after ste (stei, stay). The sense of movement indicated by go and the meaning of the main verb combine to express the progressive: (36)

a. Shi ste go bai wan baeg rais. ‘She’s going to buy a bag of rice.’ b. Ai ste go si da gai. ‘I keep going to see the guy.’

In imperatives, go may be placed before the auxiliary ste indicating a progressive or continuous action to be carried out elsewhere or later: (37)

a. Go ste mek da pupus. ‘Go be making the snacks.’ b. Go ste du om. ‘Go be doing it.’

Go can also occur before the auxiliary when it has the function of indicating an unplanned future or hypothetical action, as in the second part of this famous example: (38)

Yu go ste go; ai go ste kam. (You go stay go; I go stay come.) ‘You go ahead [i.e. keep going]; I’ll be coming.’

The serial verb go can also be used before or after chrai (try): (39)

a. Ai go chrai du om fo yu. ‘I’ll try to do it for you.’ b. Ai laik chrai go kam mek kukiz wit yu. (I like try go come make cookies with you.) ‘I want to try and come to make cookies with you.’

Note that, as shown in (39b), there may be two serial verbs used in one verb phrase. Here go indicates an unplanned future action, and kam indicates motion toward the listener.

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2.6.

Stative versus active verbs

Hawai‘i Creole grammar distinguishes between stative and active verbs. Stative verbs include kam (come) ‘become’, bi (be), ste (stei, stay) ‘copula’, luk (look), fil (feel), no (know) and haev (have). The serial verbs go or come occur only before active verbs. Predicate adjectives occur only after stative verbs, as in (40): (40)

a. And den everyting come quiet. ‘And then everything became quiet.’ (Lum 1999: 19) b. …I goin be awesome. ‘…I’m going to be awesome.’ (Da Jesus Book, 75 [Matthew 24:30]) c. Make their stomach look mo skinny. ‘They make their stomach look skinnier.’ (Lum 1999: 19) d. Dey wen feel real good inside. ‘They felt really good inside.’ (Da Jesus Book, 3 [Matthew 2:10])

2.7.

Summary

In summary, the VP in sentences with the structure S ‡ NP VP can be of two types, depending on the main verb aktionsart: stative main verb: VP ‡

(tense)

(modal)

(chrai)

(aspect)

V (stative) (AdjP) (NP)

(PP)

active main verb: (sv indicates the possible position for a serial verb): VP ‡

(tense) (modal)

(sv) (chrai) (sv) (aspect) (sv) V (active) (NP)

(PP)

These two types of VP are illustrated in the following diagram. (Note that not all combinations are possible.) (wen) (gon) (yustu)

(kaen) (laik) (haeftu) (sapostu) (gata) (beta)

(AdjP) (chrai) (go) (kam)

(go) (kam)

(ste) (stat) (pau)

stative main verb or (go) active main verb (kam)

(PP) (NP)

The mesolectal past tense marker waz (was) is not shown in this diagram. It can also occur in the following environments: before the tense marker gon, before the

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modal sapostu or before the -ing form of an active main verb (but then without any other tense-mood-aspect markers). 2.8.

The verb phrase in subjectless sentences

Both imperative sentences and existential sentences in Hawai‘i Creole have the surface structure S ‡ VP. In such sentences, tense markers, modals, aspect markers or serial verbs are not normally used before the verb. Non-past existential sentences in Hawai‘i Creole usually begin with the verb get: (41)

a. Get wan nyu bilding ova dea. ‘There’s a new building over there.’ b. Get two problems wit dat translation. ‘There are two problems with that translation.’ (Kearns 2000: 27)

Past existential sentences begin with haed (had): (42)

a. Had dis old green house… ‘There was this old green house…’ (Lum 1990: 60) b. Had some Pharisee guys… ‘There were some Pharisees…’ (Da Jesus Book, 56 [Matthew 19:3])

3.

Verbless sentences

3.1.

Equational sentences

The first type of verbless sentence, equational sentences, are usually formed by joining two noun phrases without a copula: S ‡ NP NP. (43)

a. Mai sista wan bas jraiva. ‘My sister is a bus driver.’ b. Nau yu da baws. ‘Now you’re the boss.’

Some speakers, however, use iz (is) or waz (was) as a copula: (44)

a. Brynie is da Captain. ‘Brynie is the Captain.’ (Lum 1998b: 223) b. He was one old guy. ‘He was an old guy.’ (Lum 1999: 22)

3.2.

Sentences with an adjective phrase (AdjP)

The second type of verbless sentence is made up of an AdjP and an NP. The structures of the NP and AdjP are given in section 9. below. In such sentences

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the AdjP may come after the NP with the structure S ‡ NP AdjP; no copula is required. (45)

a. Mai sista skini. ‘My sister is skinny.’ b. Da buggah brown. ‘The bugger’s brown.’ (Morales 1988: 72) c. Da old wine mo betta. ‘The old wine is better.’ (Matthew 1997: 174)

Furthermore, as mentioned above, the Hawai‘i Creole stative verb ste (stei, stay) may also be used before AdjPs, functioning as a copula. But it can only be used before adjectives or AdjPs that denote a non-permanent or non-intrinsic quality, or a change in conditions: (46)

a. hi stey free eswy. ‘He’s free, that’s why.’ (bradajo 1998a: 19) b. Shi stei sik. ‘She is sick.’

But the following example, is not acceptable because the adjective denotes a permanent quality: (47)

*Da wahine ste shawt. ‘The woman is short.’

Again, speakers of mesolectal varieties of Hawai‘i Creole may use iz (is) or waz (was) as a copula before the AdjP: (48)

a. His one is cool. (Tonouchi 1998: 251) b. Tommy Kono was short. (Lum 1999: 23)

Verbless sentences with an AdjP can also have the AdjP first, followed by the NP with the structure S ‡ AdjP NP. In such sentences a copula is not normally used. (49)

a. Smat da dawg. ‘The dog is smart.’ b. Ono da malasadas. ‘The malasadas [local Portuguese doughnuts] are delicious.’ c. Too long da words. ‘The words are too long.’ (Kearns 2000: 21)

3.3.

Locational sentences

The last type of verbless sentence is the kind that gives a location, with either an adverb or a prepositional phrase: its structure is either S ‡ NP AdvP or S ‡ NP

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PP. In sentences where the location is here or there or where there is a phrase giving the location, a copula is usually not used: (50)

a. Mai sista hia. ‘My sister is here.’ b. Kent dem insaid da haus. ‘Kent and the others are inside the house.’

Similarly, wea (where) questions do not need a copula: (51)

a. Eh, wea dis guy from? ‘Hey, where’s this guy from?’ (Da Jesus Book, 23 [Matthew 8:27]) b. But where dah bridge? ‘But where’s the bridge?’ (Pak 1998a: 113)

But the copula ste (stei, stay) can also be used with locations: (52)

a. He stay inside da coffin. ‘He’s inside the coffin.’ (Lum 1999: 26) b. Where he stay? ‘Where is he?’ (Ching 1998: 183)

4.

Negation

4.1.

Negative markers

Hawai‘i Creole sentences are normally negated by using one of four negative markers: nat, no, neva and nomo. Each one has a particular distribution. Nat (not) is used in four contexts: (i) in verbless sentences, before the predicate NP, AdjP, AdvP, or PP; (ii) in sentences with a VP, before the tense marker gon; (iii) before the -ing form of the verb when it is not preceded by the aspect marker ste, and (iv) before the modal sapostu: (53)

a. Mai sista nat wan bas jraiva. ‘My sister isn’t a bus driver.’ b. Da baga nat braun. ‘The guy isn’t brown.’ c. Hi nat goin brok om. ‘He’s not going to break it.’ d. Da gaiz nat wrking. ‘The guys aren’t working.’ e. Yu nat sapostu du daet. ‘You’re not supposed to do that.’

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Nat (not) also occurs with the modal beta but the order is reversed: (54)

Yu beta nat du daet. ‘You’d better not do that.’

No is used in six contexts, all in sentences with a VP: (a) before the unmarked verb; (b) before the tense marker gon; (c) before the modals kaen, laik, gata and haeftu; (d) before the copula ste; (e) before the aspect markers ste, stat and pau; and (f) before the serial verbs go and kam (come): (55)

a. Da kaet no it fish. ‘The cat doesn’t eat fish.’ b. I no goin tell nobody. ‘I won’t tell anybody.’ (Da Jesus Book, 2 [Matthew 1:19]) c. I no can even do twenty [pushups] in da P.E. test in school. ‘I can’t even do twenty [pushups] in the P.E. test in school.’ (Lum 1999: 22) d. I no like flunk. ‘I don’t want to flunk.’ (Kearns 2000: 11) e. Kaerol no haeftu wrk. ‘Carol doesn’t have to work.’ f. Da kaet no ste in da haus. ‘The cat isn’t in the house.’ g. Hi no ste sik. ‘He isn’t sick.’ h. I like pau by tonight, even if it mean I no go sleep. ‘I want to finish tonight even if it means I don’t sleep.’ (Kearns 2000: 26) i. De no ste lisining. ‘They aren’t listening.’ j. Mai sista no stat pleing saka. ‘My sister hasn’t started playing soccer.’ k. Ai no pau kuk da rais yet. ‘I haven’t finished cooking the rice yet.’

Negative imperatives (prohibitives) are also formed by putting no before the verb: (56)

No mek fan. ‘Don’t make fun.’

Either nat or no can be used before the tense marker gon, but for some speakers there is a slight difference: nat implies a contradiction or change, for example: (57)

a. No gon rein tumaro. ‘It’s not going to rain tomorrow.’

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b. Nat gon rein tumaro. ‘It’s not going to rain tomorrow [even though you think it is].’ (58)

a. Shi no gon ple saka. ‘She’s not going to play soccer.’ b. Shi nat gon ple saka. ‘She’s not going to play soccer [now that she’s changed her mind].’

Also, note that nat is quite often used before pau, but this is when pau is being used as a main verb meaning ‘to finish’ or an adjective meaning ‘finished’, rather than as an aspect marker. (59)

Ai nat pau yet. ‘I’m not finished yet.’

Neva (nevah, never) is used before the verb or aspect marker to indicate negative and past tense simultaneously: (60)

a. Ai neva du om. ‘I didn’t do it.’ b. He nevah say nutting. ‘He didn’t say anything.’ (Lum 1999: 24) c. De neva ste lisen. ‘They weren’t listening.’ d. De neva pau tek da tes. ‘They didn’t finish taking the test.’

Neva is also used before the tense marker yustu (used to): (61)

She nevah used to have one big fat turkey fo Tanksgiving. ‘She didn’t use to have a big fat turkey for Thanksgiving.’ (Lum 1998a: 74)

Note that no wen is not normally used for past tense negation, and that neva does not simply mean ‘not ever’ as it does in English. For example, the meaning of I never eat beans in Hawai‘i Creole is ‘I didn’t eat beans’, not ‘I don’t ever eat beans’. Nomo (no more), the last negative marker, is different from the others in that it is not used before a verb, a modal or an aspect marker. Rather, it occurs before an NP in a subjectless sentence to mark negative non-past existential, meaning ‘there isn’t’ or ‘there aren’t’. (62)

Nomo kaukau in da haus. ‘There isn’t any food in the house.’

It is also used in a negative possessive sentence to mean ‘doesn’t have’ or ‘don’t have’: (63)

a. Nau wi nomo ka. ‘Now we don’t have a car.’

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b. How come I no more one real glove? ‘How come I don’t have a real glove?’ (Chock 1998: 29) Two other expressions are sometimes also used for negative possessive: no haev (no have) and no get. Nomo can be used to talk about things in the past – for example: (64)

We no more their kind money. ‘We didn’t have their kind of money.’ (Kono 1998: 210)

But other expressions can also be used: no haed (no had), neva haed (never had), neva haev (never have), and neva get (never get): (65)

Neva haed TV. ‘There wasn’t any TV.’

4.2.

Other forms of negatives

Other forms of negatives are used by some Hawai‘i Creole speakers. First there is the set expression dono or donno (dunno) which, like its English origin, means ‘don’t know’ or ‘doesn’t know’: (66)

I dunno who wen’ tell my madda. ‘I don’t know who told my mother.’ (Yamanaka 1998b: 156)

When waz (was) is used as a tense/aspect marker or copula, the negative markers no or neva can be used with it: (67)

a. Shi no waz going. ‘She wasn’t going.’ b. Ai wen go fo si om yestade, but hi neva waz hom. ‘I went to see him yesterday, but he wasn’t home.’

Forms of negatives closer to English are used by some speakers of varieties of Hawai‘i Creole more toward the acrolectal end of the continuum. These include: kaenat (cannot), don (don’t), diden (didn’t), izen (isn’t), wazen (wasn’t), and won (won’t). 4.3.

So-called double negatives

Like many other languages, Hawai‘i Creole can use a negative marker on both the verb and the noun or noun phrase, for example: (68)

a. Shi neva bring no kaukau. ‘She didn’t bring any food.’ b. De no du nating. ‘They didn’t do anything.’

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c. Nomo nating insai dea. ‘There isn’t anything in there.’ d Ai no kaen si nobadi. ‘I can’t see anybody.’ e Hi no go nopleis. ‘He doesn’t go anywhere.’

5.

Relativization

Hawai‘i Creole has subject relative clauses similar to those in English. The relative pronouns are hu (who) and daet (dat, that): (69)

a. He coach everybody who come in da weightroom. ‘He coached everybody who came to the weightroom.’ (Lum 1999: 22) b. Get one noddah girl who no can stay still. ‘There’s another girl who can’t stay still.’ (Kanae 1998: 208) c. Dey even had da funny kine gun dat was fat at da end. ‘They even had the strange gun that was fat at the end.’ (Lum 1998a: 71) d. He not jalike da teacha guys dat teach God’s Rules. ‘He’s not like the teachers that teach God’s Rules.’ (Da Jesus Book, 20 [Matthew 7:29])

However, with regard to subject relative clauses, Hawai‘i Creole differs from English in two ways. First, the relative pronoun can be omitted: (70)

a. You dah one wen show us dah map. ‘You’re the one who showed us the map.’ (Pak 1998a: 116) b. I don’t know anybody study as much as you. ‘I don’t know anybody who studies as much as you.’ (Cataluna 2002: 6)

Second, a regular pronoun such as hi (he), shi (she) or de (dey, they) can be used in place of a relative pronoun: (71)

a. Aes da kain gaiz de awl tawk onli. ‘That’s the kind of guys who are all talk, no action.’ b. And get one skinny boy, he just stare at my braddah. ‘And there was a skinny boy who just stared at my brother.’ (Kanae 1998: 208)

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With regard to object relative clauses, Hawai‘i Creole and English are similar in allowing the absence of the relative pronoun. In Hawai‘i Creole, however, the relative pronoun is normally not used in object relative clauses. (72)

a. More betta you study dat SAT prep book Auntie K wen loan you. ‘It’s better if you study that SAT prep book Auntie K loaned you.’ (Kearns 2000: 4) b. Dis is dah bridge we standing on right now. ‘This is the bridge we’re standing on right now.’ (Pak 1998a: 115)

6.

Complementation

6.1.

Nominal clauses

Hawai‘i Creole does not have clausal subjects but it does have clausal objects, similar to those of English. They may be introduced by the complementizer daet (dat, that): (73)

a. All I can rememba is dat Latin no get one word order. ‘All I can remember is that Latin doesn’t have a word order.’ (Kearns 2000: 22) b. She tell me she pray dat Ah Goong stay okay. ‘She told me she prays that Ah Goong is okay.’ (Lum 1998a: 73)

6.2.

Infinitival clauses

Infinitival complements that are introduced by to in English are most often introduced by fo (for) in Hawai‘i Creole: (74)

a. My father said for tell you. ‘My father said to tell you.’ (Ching 1998: 187) b. He ask me fo cheer you up. ‘He asked me to cheer you up.’ (Kearns 2000: 13) c. I neva have money for buy some mo. ‘I didn’t have money to buy more.’ (Yamanaka 1998b: 155) d. He teach me how fo grip da bar. ‘He taught me how to grip the bar.’ (Lum 1999: 22) e. I too chicken fo say anyting. ‘I was too chicken [scared] to say anything.’ (Lum 1998b: 230)

Hawai‘i Creole also has a type of infinitival clause not found in English. Here the clause functions as the second part of an equational sentence, describing the subject by his or her habitual actions:

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a. Hr fo tawk enikain. ‘She’s the kind who’d say anything.’ b. Dem gaiz fo dringk pleni. ‘Those guys are heavy drinkers.’

7.

Adverbial clauses

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Adverbial clauses in Hawai‘i Creole are similar to those of English. Examples are given below in different categories with the relevant subordinating conjunctions. Time: wen (when), wail (while), bifo (befo, before), aefta (after) (76)

a. You neva notice someting funny when she talk? ‘Didn’t you notice something funny when she talked?’ (Kearns 2000: 13) b. And while he wipe his sweat…, da spotters put on two more small weights… ‘And while he wiped his sweat…, the spotter put on two more small weights.’ (Lum 1999: 22) c. I get planny Latin vocabalery fo memorize before I go sleep. ‘I have a lot of Latin vocabulary to memorize before I go to sleep.’ (Kearns 2000: 26) d. I goin come back alive afta I mahke. ‘I’m going to come back alive after I die.’ (Da Jesus Book, 51 [Matthew 17:9])

Location: wea (where) (77)

Dey live ova dea wea da dead peopo stay buried. ‘They live over there where the dead people are buried.’ (Da Jesus Book, 23 [Matthew 8:28])

Purpose: fo (for) (78)

Everybody come fo see dat house. ‘Everybody comes to see that house.’ (Lum 1990: 92)

Reason: kawz (coz, cause, because) (79)

Russo tink he hot stuff cause he stay in high school. ‘Russo thinks he’s hot stuff because he’s in high school.’ (Lum 1999: 20)

Manner: jalaik (j’like, jalike, just like)

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(80)

God wen make um come back alive, jalike Jesus wen say befo time. ‘God made him come back alive, just like Jesus said earlier.’ (Da Jesus Book, 93 [Matthew 28:6])

Contrast: do (though), ivendo (even though) (81)

…he look like one of da Russians even though he was Portogee. ‘…he looked like one of the Russians even though he was Portuguese.’ (Lum 1999: 24)

Conditional: if (82)

But nowadays, if somebody no can read, everybody feega he stupid, too. ‘But nowadays if somebody can’t read, everyone thinks he’s stupid too.’ (Kearns 2000: 21)

Negative conditional: o els (or else) (83)

So you bettah behave or else I going come sit on you. ‘So you’d better behave or else I’m going to come and sit on you.’ (Lum 1998b: 229)

Negative contrast: nomaeta (no matta, no matter) (84)

Mo betta you live foeva, no matta you no mo hand o leg. ‘It’s better to live forever, even if you don’t have hands or legs.’ (Matthew 1997: 52)

8.

Sentences linked by adverbial connectors

In addition to subordination, sentences can be linked by adverbial connectors. Sequence: den (then), aen den (an then, and then) (85)

a. Fo’ long time wuz quiet. Den she wen ax me one weird question. ‘For a long time it was quiet. Then she asked me a weird question.’ (Tonouchi 1998: 249) b. …you gotta stand still fo at least one second before you can let um go. And den, dey jes drop um on da floor… ‘…you’ve got to stand still for at least one second before you can let it go. And then they just drop it on the floor.’ (Lum 1999: 21)

Consequence: so (86)

My little braddah, he not mento. So you bettah stop teasing him. ‘My brother isn’t mental. So you’d better stop teasing him.’ (Kanae 1998: 208)

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Negative conditional: bambai (bumbye, by ’m by); note that bambai (bumbye, by ’m by) also functions as an adverb meaning ‘later’. (87)

a. Yu beta tek yo ambrela. Bambai yu get wet. ‘You’d better take your umbrella. Otherwise you’ll get wet.’ b. No get da tomatoes wet, bumbye going get spots. ‘Don’t get the tomatoes wet; otherwise they’re going to get spots.’ (Lum 1998b: 225)

Cause or result: aeswai (ass why), daeswai (das why, dass why, that’s why) This is one of the most common connectors in Hawai‘i Creole, occurring at either the beginning or the end of a sentence. When it is used in initial position, that sentence is the result and the preceding sentence is the cause: (88)

a. Ai neva stadi. Aeswai ai wen flang. ‘I didn’t study. That’s why I flunked.’ b. Kennet when he fight, he always try his best. Das why he win. ‘When Kennet fights, he always tries his best. That’s why he wins.’ (Lum 1998b: 227)

When it is used in clause-final position, that sentence is the cause and the preceding sentence is the result. (89)

a. she neva lai kaam clos shistey wyle eswy. (Shi neva laik kam klos. Shi ste wail aeswai.) ‘She didn’t like to come close because she was wild.’ (bradajo 1998a: 19) b. Stay ova dea till I tell you fo come back. King Herod, he goin look fo da boy fo kill him, dass why. ‘Stay over there till I tell you to come back because King Herod is going to look for the boy to kill him.’ (Da Jesus Book, 4 [Matthew 2:13])

9.

Noun phrase structure

Plural marking on Hawai‘i Creole nouns is optional, although it is now being used more and more frequently. It is most common when a word ends in a vowel, as in mai toiz (my toys), and least common when a word is preceded by another word which shows quantity, as in tu dala (two dollar). When plural marking is used, it follows the morphophonemic rules of English. However, there are many words in Hawai‘i Creole which have plural marking where it is not found in English, like for example: junks, mails, furnitures, baggages, underwears, slangs, stuffs, peoples, and corns (‘corn on the cob’).

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The basic Hawai‘i Creole noun phrase has the following structure: NP ‡ (DET) (QUANT) (AdjP) N (collectivizer) Determiners include the articles da (the), a, and wan (one), and the demonstratives dis (this, diss), daet (that, dat) and doz (those). Quantifiers include meni (many), sam (some), and pleni (plenny) derived from English plenty of but used to mean ‘many’ or ‘much’, as in pleni pipo (plenny peopo) ‘many people’ and pleni rais ‘much rice’. Another quantifier unique to Hawai‘i Creole is chok (choke) ‘very many’. Cardinal numbers, which are also quantifiers, are basically the same as in English. Ordinal numbers may be formed by putting namba (number) before the cardinal number, as in namba tu boi (number two boy) ‘second son’. An adjective phrase is made up of an adjective which may be preceded by a degree modifier, such as mo (more), tu (too), so, and ril (real) as in mo big ‘bigger’, tu gud (too good), so haepi (so happy) or ril hanggri (real hungry). One difference from English is that sam (some) can also be used as a degree modifier, as in dea haus sam smawl (their house some small) ‘their house is really small’. An adjective phrase can also be made up of a group of words followed by the derivational clitic kain (kine, kind) with the meaning ‘_____ kind of’: (90)

a. De wen bai enikain no nid kain stafs. ‘They bought many kinds of things they don’t need [i.e. unneeded stuff].’ b. She put her hand by her mout and make geisha-kine giggle, so fake. ‘She put her hand by her mouth and made a geisha kind of giggle, so fake.’ (Lum 1998b: 227)

Finally, an NP can have one of several enclitics which act as collectivizers. The first is gaiz (guys). This can function to show plural, as in da einjol gaiz (da angel guys) ‘the angels’ and yo aensesta gaiz (your ancestor guys) ‘your ancestors’, or to mean something like ‘and those associated with the preceding noun and its premodifiers’, for example: (91)

She axed me where my mom guys went. ‘She asked me where my mom and those with her went.’ (Tonouchi 1998: 249)

Sometimes foks (folks) is used in a similar way: (92)

Last weekend I was suppose to go wit Vernalani folks to da Pure Heart concert. (Kearns 2000: 29)

Similarly, dem after a noun means ‘and other associated people’: (93)

a. Kaerol dem wen go shaping yestade. ‘Carol and the others went shopping yesterday.’

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b. Lata, Jesus dem wen go way from Jericho town. ‘Later, Jesus and his disciples went away from Jericho.’ (Da Jesus Book, 61 [Matthew 20:29]) Possessive NPs are similar to those of English, except that the possessive clitic ’s is not always required. So, it is common to hear possessive NPs such as Jo haus (Joe house) ‘Joe’s house’ and da wahine ka (da wahine car) ‘the woman’s car’.

10.

Pronominal system

Like English (and unlike other creole languages), Hawai‘i Creole has several sets of pronouns: subject, object, possessive and reflexive. The subject and object pronouns are given in Table 1 and the possessive pronouns in Table 2: Table 1.

Hawai‘i Creole subject and object pronouns subject

object

Ai (A, I)

mi (me)

Second person singular yu (you)

yu (you)

Third person singular

hi (he), shi (she) [him, hr (her)]

him, hr (her), om (em, um)

First person plural

wi (we), as gaiz (us guys) [as (us)]

as gaiz (us guys)

Second person plural

yu (you), yu gaiz (you guys)

yu (you), yu gaiz (you guys)

Third person plural

de (dey, they), dem gaiz (dem guys)

dem gaiz (dem guys), om (em)

First person singular

Table 2. Hawai‘i Creole possessive pronouns prenominal

independent

First person singular

ma, mai (my)

mainz (mines)

Second person singular

yoa, yo (your)

yawz (yours)

Third person singular

hiz (his), hr (her)

hiz (his), hrz (hers)

First person plural

awa (our)

awaz (ours)

Second person plural

yoa/yo (your), yu gaiz (you guys)

yawz (yourz), yu gaiz (you guys)

Third person plural

dea (their)

deaz (theirs)

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There are also independent possessive pronouns using wan (one): main wan (mine one), mainz wan (mines one), yawz wan (yours one), awaz wan (ours one), yu gaiz wan (you guys one), dem gaiz wan (them guys one). As can be seen, most of the Hawai‘i Creole pronouns are similar to those of English, but there are some important differences. First, Hawai‘i Creole subject and object pronouns most often show plural by adding gaiz (guys). Second, it is rarely used, except in set expressions, like Stop it! Rather, other words, such as da ting (< the thing) or da kain, da kine (< the kind) are used instead. More commonly, the Hawai‘i Creole pronoun om (em, um) is used instead of it as the object pronoun. Third, there is a difference in some of the possessive pronouns, such as yo or yoa for ‘your’ and mainz (mines) for ‘mine’. Fourth, sometimes object pronouns appear in subject position, as in hr sik (her sick) ‘she’s sick’ and as go (us go) ‘we’re going’. Also, object pronouns are consistently used in some places where English uses subject pronouns, for example: hu him? (who him?) ‘who is he?’ and huz san him? (whose son him) ‘whose son is he?’. Finally, unlike English, Hawai‘i Creole sometimes uses the pronouns hi (he) and shi (she) to refer to inanimate referents where it is required in English, especially as a resumptive pronoun: (94)

a. Da stoa hi open nain oklak. ‘The store, it opens at nine o’clock.’ b. Da klaes shi nat daet izi. ‘The class, it isn’t that easy.’ c. awl dess tym da saan he shynin da wayv he braykin… (All this time, the sun, he shining, the wave, he breaking…) ‘All this time, the sun, it’s shining, the wave, it’s breaking.’ (bradajo 1998b: 171)

The Hawai‘i Creole reflexive pronouns are shown in Table 3.

Table 3.

Hawai‘i Creole reflexive pronouns reflexive

First person singular

maiself (myself)

Second person singular

yoself/yuself (yourself)

Third person singular

himself, hrself (herself)

First person plural

awaself (ourself)

Second person plural

yoself/yuself (yourself)

Third person plural

demself (themself)

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Alternative forms are: yuselfs (yourselfs), as gaiz self (us guys self), yu gaiz self (you guys self), dem gaiz self (them guys self). 11.

Focusing

Various types of movement are quite common in Hawai‘i Creole for focusing on particular constituents of a sentence. Topicalization occurs as in English for focusing on the object by moving it to the front of the sentence: (95)

a. Onli da jangk kain, hi let yu tek. ‘Only the junky kinds, he lets you take.’ b. Daet wan, ai si. ‘That one, I see.’

Left-dislocation of the subject also occurs: (96)

a. Mai fada, hi no laik go wrk. ‘My father, he didn’t like to go to work.’ b. …my sista, she the boss of the sunflower seeds. ‘…my sister, she was the boss of the sunflower seeds.’ (Yamanaka 1998a: 153) c. Weightlifters, dey no do too much. ‘Weightlifters, they don’t do too much.’ (Lum 1999: 19)

Topicalization of the object and left-dislocation of the subject can occur simultaneously: (97)

Enikain fud dis gai hi it. ‘All kinds of food, this guy eats.’

Left-dislocation of the object or a locational phrase is common as well: (98)

a. Dis wan ai wen bai om Longs. ‘This one I bought at Longs.’ b. Dis glove, you try bend um, no can. ‘This glove, if you try to bend it, you can’t.’ (Chock 1998: 28) c. At da Y get plenny guys living ovah dere in da upstairs rooms. ‘At the Y, there are lots of guys living there in the upstairs rooms.’ (Lum 1999: 25)

Right-dislocation is found in Hawai‘i Creole, as in English: (99)

a. De get pleni mani, yo faemli. ‘They have a lot of money, your family. b. Hi wan pis awf baga, daet gai. ‘He was a really angry bugger, that guy.’

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A sentence can have both object topicalization and subject right-dislocation: (100) Pleni mani de get, sam gaiz. ‘Some guys have a lot of money.’ Hawai‘i Creole differs from English, however, in that the subject may be moved to the end of the sentence, similar to right-dislocation but without the use of a pronoun in the canonical position of the moved constituent. (101) a. No laik ple futbawl, diz gaiz. ‘These guys don’t like to play football.’ b. Geting ol, as gaiz. ‘We’re getting old.’ c. No laik it nating, dis gai. ‘This guy doesn’t like to eat anything.’ Finally, Hawai‘i Creole has cleft constructions, but unlike English, the anticipatory it is not used: (102) Waz as gaiz hu wen laik go. ‘It was us who wanted to go.’ Hawai‘i Creole also uses cleft constructions involving clausal subjects, but again neither anticipatory it nor a complementizer is used. (103) a. …garans he goin give you guys clotheses. ‘…it’s guaranteed that he’ll give you all clothes.’ (Da Jesus Book, 18 [Matthew 6:30]) b. Mo betta I stop now. ‘It’s better if I stop now.’ (Kearns 2000: 26)

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. bradajo [Joseph Hadley] 1998a Ma[ket]stenlei. In: Chock, Harstad, Lum and Teter (eds.), 19−26. 1998b Feescol ajukeshen. In: Chock, Harstad, Lum and Teter (eds.), 167−172. Cataluna, Lee 2002 Super Secret Squad. Honolulu: Kumu Kahua Theatre. Ching, Stuart 1998 Way back to Palolo. In: Chock, Harstad, Lum and Teter (eds.), 180−190.

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Chock, Eric 1998 Da glove. In: Chock, Harstad, Lum and Teter (eds.), 28−29. Chock, Eric, James R. Harstad, Darrell H.Y. Lum and Bill Teter (eds.) 1998 Growing up Local: An Anthology of Poetry and Prose from Hawai‘i. Honolulu: Bamboo Ridge. Da Jesus Book 2000 Da Jesus Book [Hawai‘i Pidgin New Testament]. Orlando: Wycliffe Bible Translators. Kanae, Lisa Linn 1998 Short tongue. In: Chock, Harstad, Lum and Teter (eds.), 208−209. Kearns, Yokanaan 2000 Pidg Latin and How Kitty Got Her Pidgin Back. Honolulu: Honolulu Theatre for Youth and Kumu Kahua Theatre. Kono, Juliet S. 1998 A scolding from my father. In: Chock, Harstad, Lum and Teter (eds.), 210−211. Labov, William 1990 On the adequacy of natural languages: I. The development of tense. In: Singler (ed.), 1−58. Lum, Darrell H.Y. 1990 Pass On, No Pass Back! Honolulu: Bamboo Ridge Press. 1998a Giving tanks. In: Chock, Harstad, Lum and Teter (eds.), 71−74. 1998b Orphan Annie: Coloring in the eyes. In: Chock, Harstad, Lum and Teter (eds.), 222−231. 1999 YMCA: the weightroom. In: Rickford and Romaine (eds.), 19−27. Morales, Rodney 1988 The Speed of Darkness. Honolulu: Bamboo Ridge Press. Matthew, Kaopio 1997 Hawaiian Family Legends. Honolulu: Mutual Publishing. Pak, Gary 1998a The gift. In: Chock, Harstad, Lum and Teter (eds.), 98−119. 1998b The valley of the dead air. In: Chock, Harstad, Lum and Teter (eds.), 319−327. Tonouchi, Lee A. 1998 Where to put your hands. In: Chock, Harstad, Lum and Teter (eds.), 245−252. Yamanaka, Lois Ann 1998a Boss of the food. In: Chock, Harstad, Lum and Teter (eds.), 153−154. 1998b Lickens. In: Chock, Harstad, Lum and Teter (eds.), 155−156.

Fiji English: morphology and syntax France Mugler and Jan Tent

1.

Introduction

The morpho-syntax of Fiji English, like its lexicon and phonology, is heterogenous, with variations both across speakers with different first languages (primarily Fijian and Fiji Hindi) as well as along a continuum which goes from a heavily substratum-influenced variety – what we have called Pure Fiji English – to one which exhibits maximum pressure from Standard English while still being distinctive – Modified Fiji English (see Tent and Mugler, other volume). We attempt here to describe features typical of Fiji English, many of which are shared by other varieties of English and of English-based pidgins and creoles, while pointing out those which are characteristic of Pure Fiji English and probably most distinctive. The major source of the data cited in this chapter is Jan Tent’s more than 80 hours of recordings of part-European speakers, his observations of spoken Fiji English from Fijian, Indo-Fijian and other speakers, local television news and advertisements, accompanied by quotes from written sources, primarily newspapers, and the plays of Fiji’s Larry Thomas, which often feature a low or middle-income multicultural setting where the characters speak Pure Fiji English (see Tent 2000). A few more recent examples, particularly from newspapers, have been collected by France Mugler. When no source is cited after an example, the reference is to Tent (2000).

2.

The noun phrase

2.1.

Nouns

2.1.1. Count and non-count nouns One of the most striking features of Fiji English nominals is the status of count and non-count nouns (see also 2.3.). There are a number of distinctive count nouns, preceded by an article in the singular and with a suffixed {-s} in the plural, a feature common to many L2 Englishes (Crystal 2003: 362). Two of the most noticeable such nouns are slang ‘a slang expression/word’, and swear ‘a swearword’ (a count noun as well as a verb): (1)

a. He uses a lot of slangs in his writing. b. The slangs they always use and the words, I like it.

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c. Jo: [...] man you should have heard all the swears then she ran up to me and wanted to slap me. [...] (Thomas 1991: 49) d. Fuck is a very bad swear. Plural forms of these two nouns are the most common distinctive count nouns in Tent’s recorded data. Indeed, his recordings contain relatively few such nouns, while Kelly’s spoken data only includes occurrences of slangs (1975: 41). Most examples of distinctive count nouns come from print or writing, where this feature seems more prevalent (Tent 2000: 353–354). Other examples of distinctive count nouns include: (2)

a. Fiji will draft a legislation [...] (Fiji One Television news, 22/7/1993) b. If I don’t give my soli [i.e. a donation], there will be gossips about me and my family which I wouldn’t want to happen. (Fiji Times, 7/12/1994) c. I was cutting firewoods when it happened. (Fiji One Television news, 31/3/1997) d. The manager of our Petrol Service Station is Mr [X] who claims the taxi union staffs are not involved in the dispute with tyre repair boys. (Letters to the Editor, Daily Post, 8/8/1994) e. We don’t really have the resources to accommodate all the necessary training equipments [...] (Fiji Times, 1/2/2003) f. We hope police will be able to arrest the culprits because we have suffered a loss of more than $80,000 from our belongings and furnitures. (Fiji Times, 17/1/2003) g. Ability to work with new softwares required. (Positions Vacant, Fiji Times 3/2/2003) h. Please go ahead and let staff know you are collecting feedbacks. (Email to France Mugler, 4/3/2003)

There is also the occasional distinctive non-count noun: (3)

a. Food included sacks of flour, sugar, tins of biscuit, cartons of tea and drums of kerosene. (Fiji Times, 7/1/1993) b. While we respect other religion, this does not give the right to others of other religion to disturb people of other denominations. (Letters to the Editor, Fiji Times, 16/8/1994)

While the absence of an {-s} plural morpheme can in many cases be explained on phonological grounds, i.e. to fit the syllable structure of Fiji English (Tent and Mugler, other volume), the fact that pluralised distinctive count nouns seem less common in speech than in writing suggests that hyper-correction due to the pressure of Standard English may be involved.

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2.1.2. Pluralisation of borrowings Count nouns borrowed from Fijian and Fiji Hindi can be pluralised in Fiji English in two ways: with an {-s} or a zero suffix. The following citations include examples of both kinds of plurals in Fijian borrowings: (4)

a. The tired tourists arrived at Lautoka at noon wearing blankets and sulu [i.e. a wraparound] provided by Blue Lagoon. (Fiji Times, 26/5/1999) b. Leading the march were elderly men in coats, sulus, and sandals. (Subramani 1988: 36) c. The redevelopment will have four new accommodation buildings with 160 guest rooms and 47 traditional Fijian-style bure [i.e. a house]. (Fiji Times, 27/5/1999) d. Eager to test the elements, they descended upon the resort like plunderers, invading the beach, the swimming pool, and the bures. (Subramani 1988: 23)

Here are a few examples of zero and {-s} plural suffixes with Fiji Hindi borrowings: (5)

a. How many choli [i.e. a short sari blouse] does she have? b. That shop has the nicest and best cholis in Suva. c. The majority of ex-girmitiya [i.e. indentured labourers], however, remained in agriculture. (Lal 1992: 39) d. He reminds us of the Girmit indentured system served by our forefathers. He wants us to learn from the experience of the Girmitiyas. (Letters to the Editor, Daily Post, 10/4/1996) e. Bhimla prepares a parcel containing two or more rotis [i.e. a kind of unleavened bread] with dry curry from the previous evening meal for Hari. (Mamak 1978: 36) f. They want a variety because simple roti with only one curry doesn’t go down with them,” she says as she tosses some dalo leaves into a pot. (Sunday Times, 31/8/1997)

It is worth noting that most count nouns in both Fijian and Fiji Hindi have an invariant form unmarked for number. While one could argue that {-s} plural marking on borrowed count nouns indicates their full nativisation into Fiji English, it does not follow that the same nouns are somehow less nativised when they have zero plural marking instead. In other words, sulu and roti are fully a part of the Fiji English lexicon, whether they appear in the plural as sulu or sulus, roti or rotis, and there are no English-derived alternatives to these borrowings. Rather, the morpho-syntactic variation corresponds to the different lects in the continuum,

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with the zero marking being typical of Pure Fiji English and the {-s} marking of Modified Fiji English. Some Fiji English nouns are derived from English adjectives, such as plastic ‘a plastic supermarket bag’: (6)

“We really need to relook seriously at the use of plastics which makes up a majority of litter,” he [i.e. the Environment Minister] said. (Sunday Times, 21/9/1997)

2.2.

Pronouns

2.2.1. Gender Gender is not normally marked in Pure Fiji English pronouns (or in the two main substratum languages) and he is often used as a generic: (7)

a. My mother, he’s a primary school teacher in Labasa. b. That woman he hit his husband when he cut [i.e. was drunk]. c. Mrs [X] was called to rest [...]. Always remembered by his sons. (Funeral notice, Fiji Times, 15/1/2003)

2.2.2. Person and number The pronoun system of Fijian, like that of many other Oceanic languages, is much more complex than that of English since it distinguishes between singular, dual, paucal, and plural, as well as between inclusive and exclusive for all non-singular pronouns. In Pure Fiji English, pronouns are marked for singular, dual and plural number, and for inclusivity/exclusivity. They are calqued on the model of Fijian, with the use of the suffixes -two, for dual, and -gang, for plural. Thus we have us-two ‘1dual incl.’ and us-gang ‘1pl. (more than two)’, you-gang ‘2pl.’ etc. Although the semantic and morpho-syntactic origin of these pronouns is Fijian, they are widely used not only by native speakers of Fijian but by all speakers of Pure Fiji English. Some examples include: (8)

a. Q: Us-two’s bread? A: No, you people’s bread. b. Hey, how ’bout us-two go watch movie tonight? c. Us-gang own this store. d. C’mon you-gang, pull on this rope! e. So you-gang adopt children out to relatives too. f. I feel sorry for you people because this is one area which is lacking development. (Fiji Times, 26/2/2003)

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The plural suffix -gang may also occur with demonstratives (e.g. those-gang and that-gang ‘they’) and seems synonymous with people as in those people: (9)

Man, I don’t know how those-gang [i.e. pilots] can do it.

Another frequent plural pronominal form in spoken Pure Fiji English is the 2pl. you-people(’s) ‘you/your (more than two)’: (10)

a. Margaret: I just don’t know you people. Look at all of you. Everytime you are always arguing about the same thing. [...]. (Thomas 1989: 31) b. Everytime her friends visit her, they ask her to cook Chicken in Chili and Plum Sauce. She tells them: “Oilei! [i.e. Oh!] You people not sick of this?” (Sunday Times, 1/9/1997) c. He said you people’s house is one nice house-ga.

The structure pronoun + people corresponds to the Fiji Hindi pattern, in which postposed log, literally ‘people’, pluralises the singular pronouns; e.g. ham log 1pl., tum log 2pl., i log/u log 3pl. (see Siegel 1992). However, the people pronoun plural marker is used widely by all speakers of Pure Fiji English, regardless of their first language. 2.2.3. Third person singular pronouns Pure Fiji English has two distinct third person singular pronouns: fella for [+human] referents (male or female) and (the) thing for [-human] referents (i.e. it): (11)

a. Fella was drinking grog [i.e. kava] there, during class. But his teaching is set [i.e. great, good]. But the way fella treat us, no good, èh? b. Fella [i.e. my mother] wake up half-past five in the morning. c. Marika: Oh Mrs Kumar I’m sorry I forgot. When I come back from school I bring it back to you, the thing at home. (Thomas 1991: 37) d. Mrs Kumar: Well the thing take time you know. (Thomas 1991: 46) e. When we have the tournament coming up, thing already finish. The club going on now. f. When you on the alarm system you press this button. When you off the thing you press that one.

On the use of (the) thing, Kelly (1975: 29−31) notes that it appears to be a “stronger pronoun than it” and “is normally used in the subject of a sentence, or where a noun would occur in [Standard English].” Our data and observations confirm this.

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2.2.4. Third person plural The third person plural object pronoun them, preceded by and, is added to a singular proper noun to indicate a group of friends or relatives – a very common feature of Fiji English: (12)

Jone and them coming to the party tonight, èh?

2.2.5. Who In Pure Fiji English, the interrogative/relative pronoun who sometimes is used when referring to the name of someone or something: (13)

a. I can’t remember who his name is. b. Question of the week! Who is the dog’s name in the Jetson cartoon series? (Sunday Post, 1/9/2002)

This is calqued on Fijian usage, where o cei ‘who’ is used in questions such as o cei na yacana? literally ‘who’s his/her name?’ 2.3.

Determiners

2.3.1. One Perhaps the most distinctive characteristic of the Pure Fiji English determiner system is the indefinite article one, a typically creoloid and L2 English feature. Note that neither Fijian nor Fiji Hindi has a separate indefinite article, although each of course has a numeral ‘one’ (dua and ek respectively): (14)

a. Simi: Man you talk like one philosopher! (Thomas 1991: 25) b. They should have one security guard up here at night sitting in one shed. c. One experience cook wanted for Indian Restaurant one kitchen hand also required Phone 479540 (Positions Vacant, Fiji Times, 10/9/1994)

However, as the next two examples show, one is not used consistently; a is also often used within the same utterance or sentence: (15)

a. One Fijian man called me and he told me if I want a chewing gum [...] (Daily Post, 27/9/1997) b. I am informed, the 14-year-old boy was apparently assaulted after a heated argument with one taxi driver. (Letters to the Editor, Daily Post, 8/8/1994)

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Kelly (1975: 27) argues that one seems to be “a more emphatic form” and is generally used in the “[nominal] group forming the subject”. In most cases when a is used “the reference is rather general”, compared to one where “the reference is usually to a specific person or object”. However, not all examples above fit this description and a more thorough analysis based on a larger sample is needed. 2.3.2. Plenty A common quantifier is plenty (+ noun) ‘many, lots (of), much, plenty of’: (16)

a. Josephine: [...] You got plenty money? (Thomas 1991: 21) b. Like plenty people think of Raiwai as a criminal place. c. He remembers someone came to the village and told everyone there was a place where they could make plenty money. (Fiji Times, 2/10/1997)

2.3.3. Zero determiner Zero determiner seems to be more common in written than spoken Fiji English, especially before proper nouns: (17)

a. I met them in Civic Centre one time. b. When clients buy their houses from Housing Authority, they enter into a contract to make regular payments for them. (Letters to the Editor, Daily Post, 13/8/1994) c. “It has now reached unbearable high percentage,” he said. (Fiji Times, 1/8/1994) d. I would like to thank the Public Works Department’s Complaints Section for showing caring attitude when houses along Tamavua Road was out of water. (Letters to the Editor, Fiji Times, 8/9/1994)

The reverse is also quite common, and once again, more so in writing or print than in speech, and again in particular with proper nouns: (18)

a. The Enamanu Road has been neglected for a long time. (Letters to the Editor, Fiji Times, 9/8/1994) b. The methods used in eliciting data is important in any research enterprise and that brings the credibility to the merit of the results. (Letters to the Editor, Fiji Times, 16/8/1994) c. Senator [X] then said that “In the Indian community it is a shameful act if someone’s wife is fondled by another person and it arouses the anger in any man. [...]” (Daily Post, 17/5/1995)

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Adjectives

Adjectives derived from past participles often do not carry the {-ed} morpheme of Standard English, as is true of many other varieties of English. This is probably because of the syllabic structure of Fiji English, in which final consonant clusters are avoided (see Tent and Mugler, other volume). The most common examples in our data are: aircondition room, experience driver, ice water, dry fish, tin fish, and sugar water. (19)

a. Fully air-condition computer lab and lecture room. (Advertisement, Fiji Times, 3/2/2003) b. Urgently wanted experience digger operators [...] (Positions Vacant, Fiji Times, 15/2/2003)

On the other hand, {-ed} occurs sometimes in Fiji English where it does not in Standard English, probably as a hypercorrection, especially since it seems more frequent in writing and print. Perhaps the most common example is matured (especially in the positions vacant columns of newspapers e.g. matured housegirl wanted): (20)

a. These are children who are exposed to this kind of acts for a period of time until the child would come out in the open “TO TELL” especially when they are socially matured and ready to disclose the happenings. (Daily Post, 27/9/1997) b. Two bedrooms furnished flat 2 minutes walk to city/CWM, all amenities, quiet, secured (To Let, Fiji Times, 15/2/2003)

This hypercorrection sometimes extends to nouns, as in: (21)

An experienced of 5 years will be very helpful. (Fiji Times, 14/2/2003)

2.4.1. Comparatives and superlatives In Fiji English more and most are often preposed to the comparative and superlative forms of adjectives respectively – an archaic pleonasm in Standard English: (22)

a. [...] most tastiest, most tastiest [...] (Television advertisement, 1994−1995) b. Then only can we promote more healthier environment to live in and make Fiji more appealing to tourists as well. (Letters to the Editor, Fiji Times, 28/7/1994) c. [...] the Prime Minister believes there’s more better players here [...] (Fiji One Television news, 10/4/1996)

Occasionally, less also occurs with the comparative form of an adjective:

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(23)

I don’t think referees will become less harsher in Wellington [...] (Fiji Times. 5/2/2003)

3.

The verb phrase

3.1.

Verbs derived from nouns and particles

Fiji English has some distinctive verbs derived from English nouns or particles. Examples of verb forms derived from nouns are schooling, broom and the archaic pain: (24)

a. Today, there are 620 girls schooling at Jasper Williams High School. (Fiji Times, 11/7/1994) b. Asha: [...] I wanted to carry on schooling but my father told me that I should stay at home and help my mother in the house. [...] (Thomas 1991: 18) c. I broom your room after lunch, éh? d. I was never at work on Wednesday because my back was paining very much. e. No, my throat doesn’t pain any more.

Other examples include: (25)

a. Please attention it to Bob. b. Sometimes, even your friend, she’ll try to crook [i.e. swindle] you.

Another such verb is slang, which has also undergone a semantic shift, ‘to speak in English with an unnatural, i.e. non-Pure Fiji English, accent (a rebuke)’. (26)

a. We like the way you talk to us, you not slang like other palagis [i.e. Europeans] when they talk to us. b. You sound stubborn [i.e. snobby] when you slang like that; you just wanna be a star [i.e. a show-off].

Fiji English also has some verbs derived from nouns from languages other than English, e.g. choro ‘to steal’, from Fiji Hindi chor ‘a thief’. While the final {-o} is an imperative suffix in Fiji Hindi (as well as standard Hindi), in Pidgin Fiji Hindi and in borrowings into Fijian and Fiji English the form with the {-o} is the verb stem: (27)

You see those shoes? He choro-ed them.

In the next example, Fiji Hindi tilak ‘a mark made on the forehead for ornament, or to indicate sect’ is used as a verb (in its past participial/adjectival form): (28)

Here I am then, garlanded, tilaked, poised like a deity. (Subramani 1988: 131)

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Examples of Fijian borrowings include meke, a verb and a noun both in Fijian and in Fiji English meaning ‘to perform a traditional dance or action song’ or ‘a traditional dance’, and lovo ‘an earth oven’, a noun in Fijian and Fiji English, but also a verb in Fiji English with the meaning ‘to cook in an earth oven’. (29)

a. The little girls came and meked for the European ladies. b. Why don’t we lovo this stuff? c. There’s nothing liked lovo-ed pork, is there?

In Fiji English, on and off are verbs rather than mere post-verbal particles as in Standard English, and mean ‘to switch/turn on/off’: (30)

When you on the alarm system you press this button. When you off the thing you press that one.

Similarly, in can be a verb, meaning ‘to insert something’, as in: (31)

Jan, can you help me in this key?

3.2.

Phrasal and simple verbs

Fiji English has some phrasal verbs which correspond to simple verbs in Standard English. Cope up, discuss about, and request for are the most common ones: (32)

a. “We find it extremely hard to cope up with repairs costs,” Mr [X] said. (Fiji Times, 11/5/1994) b. In this essay, I would like to discuss about [...]. c. The staff who have requested for a gown, kindly collect them from me during the following times [...].

The converse also occurs, as in the frequent pick (Standard English ‘to pick up’): (33)

a. When [X] returned to the embassy to pick the passports he was arrested and charged after being interviewed. (Fiji Times, 28/5/1994) b. Q: What is the role of toastmasters at the Hibiscus Festival? A: They pick the queens to and from home. (Fiji Times, 28/8/1999)

Other examples include lock ‘to lock up’, throw ‘throw out’, and give ‘give up/ over’: (34)

a. I used to lock my three daughters and go to the fields. (Daily Post, 19/2/1994) b. What we should keep and what we should throw? c. The rebels stopped the carrier and ordered the driver to move out, but he refused and told them he was ready to die but would not give his carrier [i.e. truck]. (Daily Post, 10/8/2000)

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Finally, some phrasal verbs have a different particle in Fiji English than in Standard English: (35)

a. Man, he was so gone [i.e. drunk] he keep on throwing out [i.e. throwing up] all the time. b. Villagers from Narai showed their appreciation to the Japanese embassy early this year by putting up a feast. (Fiji Times, 23/6/1999)

3.3.

Deletion of copula and auxiliary be

Equational sentences without a copula and sentences where the auxiliary be does not appear, are extremely common in Pure Fiji English, as indeed in L2, colloquial L1 varieties of English, as well as in pidgins and creoles: (36)

a. Margaret: [...] You worse than a woman. (Thomas 1989: 38) b. We haven’t had water for the past two weeks and this very disgusting because we all need water every time. (Fiji Times, 24/1/2003) c. Tom: Nobody making any noise, just go back and look after your baby. (Thomas 1989: 19) d. Mereoni: Ia, I just don’t know what Margaret gonna say, she will get really wild. (Thomas 1989: 20) e. Because they still far away.

3.4.

Tense and aspect markers

Pure Fiji English has a number of tense and aspect markers, one of which is derived from the English past participle, while others are adverbs or adverbial phrases which have become grammaticalised to various degrees. The pre-verbal marker been indicates past tense: (37)

a. Josephine: Man you can really bluff. You been tell me you gonna stop drinking grog [kava] because your work is going very badly. And just look at you! (Thomas 1991: 16) b. Reserve Bank: You gang been open the safe and leave it like that and everybody take the money or what? How come the money gone? [...] NBF [National Bank of Fiji]: Yeah man. Trues God, malik kasam, bulului, cross my heart and hope to die, we been open it. That’s the open door policy the Government been want. (Fiji Times, 23/3/1996)

The use of been as a past tense marker is a typical creoloid feature, widely attested in many varieties of English and in English-based pidgins and creoles. However, been is far less frequent in Fiji English, where tense tends to be indicated by con-

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text rather than by verb morphology, and it seems to indicate a remote past (as does the Fijian preverbal ā). Among expressions which have their origin in time adverbials, always and all the time present the clearest cases of grammaticalisation, as preverbal present habitual markers (similar to, and probably calqued on, Fijian dau ‘always, habitually, a lot’ – often used to translate the simple present tense). Example (38c) below shows full grammaticalisation of all the time, which follows the subject noun phrase and is preposed to the lexical verb. In (38d) however, although it also follows the subject noun phrase, all the time does not immediately precede the verb but rather a resumptive subject pronoun, so one can argue that it is not inside the verb phrase and is therefore less grammaticalised. The semantically similar every time – sometimes used redundantly with always – is also not fully grammaticalised, as it is preposed to the subject. As for before, in all likelihood calqued on Fijian i liu and indicating a habitual past, it stands well outside the verb phrase and is best considered a sentence adverbial. (38)

a. Like before, a lot of fights and that always happening on the road. b. English here [in Fiji] much more different, ‘cause we always put much more slangs in. c. Stay away from her, she all the time marimari [i.e. cadge] from people. d. The next door neighbour all the time he bash his wife when he cut [i.e. drunk]. e. Margaret: I just don’t know you people. Look at all of you. Everytime you are always arguing about the same thing. [...] (Thomas 1989: 31) f. Mrs Kumar: See that is why I don’t like to give my rake to people. Everytime I have to ask it back. (Thomas 1991: 37) g. He said before, many homes did not have burglar bars. (The Daily Post, 10/4/1996) Two other time adverbials of interest are one time, which indicates a punctual past: (39)

a. I met them in Civic Centre one time. b. Because one time he come there.

and the related sometimes ‘some time’, which can refer to both past and present: (40)

a. SIR – Sometimes back I had written a letter to this column about the deteriorating condition of the Vatuwaqa Cemetery Building and the filthy state of the toilets. (Letters to the Editor, Fiji Times, 20/1/1996) b. For sometimes now I have observed that yaqona [i.e. kava] drinking has been done in some work places on the campus during official work times.

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Note that the use of the pluperfect in (40a) above, where a simple past would be used in Standard English, is particularly common in print. 3.5.

Subject-verb agreement

Subject-verb agreement is variable. In Pure Fiji English, the verb is often singular regardless of the number of the subject. Agreement is also often with the immediately preceding noun phrase rather than with the grammatical subject. (41)

a. Bulk foods is not new in Fiji [...] We have it right here at Tropikana (Advertisement, Daily Post, 3/9/1994) b. Suva rugby and FRL heads for a show-down (Headline, Daily Post, 18/5/1995) c. I would like to thank the Public Works Department’s Complaints Section for showing caring attitude when houses along Tamavua Road was out of water. (Letters to the Editor, Fiji Times, 8/9/1994) d. In the old days, Hindustani programmes over Radio Fiji was educational and entertaining. (Letters to the Editor, Fiji Times, 27/8/1994)

In the structure one of + noun phrase, the noun phrase has a zero plural marker: (42)

a. […] one of the knife wielding man, allegedly grabbed her [...] (Fiji Times, 2/2/2003) b. Yet when one of our most respected and longest serving leader wants a duty free car [...]. (Fiji Times, 2/2/2003)

In Pure Fiji English a pronoun referring to a preceding noun phrase is typically singular, particularly when it is distant from the (plural) noun phrase, in a prepositional phrase or a dependent clause: (43)

a. They [i.e. natural disasters] devastate the entire population in its path. (Fiji Times, 24/1/2003) b. Movement Chairman [X] said members would continue to raise funds through cultural and social programmes and send it to SAHARA for the affected families. (Fiji Times, 29/1/2003)

4.

Discourse particles

4.1.

Intensifying adverbials

4.1.1. Full The archaic intensifier full is common, and is sometimes used adverbially: (44)

a. He can’t hear you. He’s full concentrating on his play.

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b. One top civil servant from Niue who was in Fiji attending a meeting funded by an international organisation was sighted in one of the local hotels early in the morning walking around full cut [i.e. very drunk] with his shirt hanging out. Reports from the hotel said the senior civil servant had been up all night partying. (Islands Business 29, 1/1/2003: 11) c. Oh, I love hockey full speed, man. Full is also used (adjectivally), in the common idiom full speed ‘a lot, wholeheartedly’ seen in the title of Sheree Lipton’s book Fiji, I love you, full speed. 4.1.2. Ga In Pure Fiji English, the Fijian intensifier ga (and its calque just), meaning ‘only, just, nevertheless, all the same, yet, but, however, but only, except’ etc., may also be used adverbially: (45)

a. All you allowed in the exam is one page-ga. b. She don’t want to watch-ga. c. Tom: Ah, we just choke [i.e. cadge] ga. (Thomas 1989: 8)

The ga intensifier is: (46)

a. Hè, you-ga get away from there! b. Fella-ga no good, man. Just one thief. c. She told me and she said that she never want to, but you just force line [i.e. intimidate] her-ga.

In addition, a redundant just often accompanies ga: (47)

a. Q: What do I do with this letter then? A: You just fax-ga. b. Oh, I just stay home-ga, play sports, go play volleyball, like that, no. c. We just hang around-ga.

4.2.

Prepositional collocations

Prepositional usage often differs from that of Standard English, although the pattern of variation is difficult to assess. Here are some examples: (48)

a. The influence of kava in these deliberation and decision is indeed mighty. (Letters to the Editor, Daily Post, 8/8/1994) b. With a multi-religious country such as ours we should be well versed about other religions as well. (Letters to the Editor, Fiji Times, 6/8/1994)

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c. SIR – I wish to express my appreciation about the male staff nurses at the Colonial War Memorial Hospital. (Letters to the Editor, Fiji Times, 20/8/1994) d. Drop completed coupon to box provided in all operations. e. “The vision is that youths [i.e. young people in general] will spend more time to contemplate on their life and also sign on later to be crew members,” he said. (Fiji Times, 13/5/1998)

5.

Syntactic and pragmatic features

5.1.

Pronominal copying

A frequent type of pronominal copying occurs in basic Subject-Verb-Object clauses, where an appositional pronoun functions as a focus marker for the Subject noun phrase. This structure, better known as left-dislocation, occurs of course in a number of other languages (e.g. Chinese, colloquial French), including English. Indeed, the following examples from Fiji English could just as easily have been taken from a number of varieties of colloquial English: (49)

a. My dad he works for FEA [Fiji Electricity Authority]. b. Some [i.e. teachers] they treat us badly. c. FM 96, they play plenty music.

The following examples are more distinctive but this is because of lexical or other grammatical features rather than the pronominal copying per se: (50)

a. The grass-cutter, it making too much noise, sorry for that. b. Sometimes, even your friend, she’ll try to crook you. c. One teacher, Master Timoci, fella punched one boy, whose name Niku, because fella was laughing.

We think that that pronominal copying may occur more frequently in Fiji English than in other colloquial varieties of English. This may be because it is reinforced by a similar structure in Fijian, which has a pronominal subject co-referent with the subject noun phrase, not only when this noun phrase is fronted but also when the sentence follows the more common Verb-Object-Subject order: (51) e musuka na dovu o Tuimasi 3sg subject ‘cut’ + trans. marker {-ka} def. art. ‘sugarcane’ proper art. ‘Tuimasi’ ‘Tuimasi cuts the sugarcane’ Kelly’s data (1975: 29) also includes pronominal copying, but she notes it is “never used before the {-ing} form of the verb, and is rarely used in the present

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tense”, and adds that “[t]he vast majority of instances occur in the narration of past events, and the verb is most often in the preterite form.” However, the selection of examples above shows that this is not the case. Indeed, Tent’s data shows that pronominal copying occurs with most (if not all) tense/aspect combinations. Pronominal copying also occurs in relative clauses which include a resumptive pronoun with the same referent as the relative pronoun (as in Fijian): (53)

a. You know the software that I left it...the box that I left it on your desk b. Jan, vinaka vakalevu [i.e. thank you very much] for the dalo [i.e. taro] which you brought it. c. There is another burst which we are still trying to locate it. (Fiji Times, 7/3/2003)

5.2.

Questions

In Pure Fiji English, all questions have the same word order as declarative sentences. Yes/no questions have a rising intonation contour which, as in many other varieties of colloquial English (as well as in Fijian and Fiji Hindi), indicates the interrogative nature of the sentence. (54)

a. James: The mailman come today? (Thomas 1989: 36) b. You want me give him one empty [i.e. blank] disc?

Here are examples of wh-questions: (55)

a. Mereoni: How I’m going to eat then? (Thomas 1989: 9) b. James: Why not allowed to get a letter? (Thomas 1989: 36) c. I ask her: “Why you not want to stay in Savusavu?”

In Pure Fiji English how come is frequently used for reason questions instead of Standard English why. While this is also found in other colloquial varieties of English (particularly American English), it seems more common in Fiji English. 5.3.

Directives

The structure of 1st and 2nd person directives in Pure Fiji English often includes a subject pronoun. As Kelly (1975: 23) notes, the hortative intention of the 1st person directive is made quite explicit from both the context and its accompanying intonation. (56)

a. Margaret: I haven’t cooked yet, that’s why I want you call Raymond so that he can go to the shop. (Thomas 1989: 40) b. Valerie: [...] Come, come we go and spy. (Thomas 1989: 43)

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c. d.

Us-two go now! Master always say like this: “You not talk in class!”

5.4.

Negation

In Pure Fiji English, never is an emphatic negator, and the phrase not even is often used as a general sentence negator: (57)

a. “Lucky they never hurt anyone else in my family. We fought outside, four against one,” Mr [X] said. (The Daily Post, 23/4/1996) b. Some of us never always speak English very fluently. c. Maika: After his mother died, one day his brain snap. Teresa: Not even. The way you say it, like his brain a string or what? (Thomas 1991: 157)

5.5.

Introducers

Expressions introducing direct quotations include go/went/said like this (Standard English said), as noted by Kelly (1975: 34) and Siegel (1991: 666). Some examples from Tent’s data are: (58)

a. Then I say like this: “Are you okay, or what?” b. The teacher, he go like this: “What you boys doing here?”

As in other colloquial varieties of English, like is also used as a general sentence introducer, as well as an indicator of a topic shift: (59)

a. Like, you a part-European, right? b. Like, I have three sisters and four brothers.

5.6.

Tags and fillers

The most common question tag in Fiji English is èh (calqued on Fijian), and others include na (calqued on Fiji Hindi), invariant isn’t it (particularly among Fiji Hindi speakers), and or what: (60)

a. Fiji Gold, mokusiga [i.e. is wasting time], èh – dead all the time. b. Fella was drinking grog [kava] there, during class. But his teaching is set [great, good]. But the way fella treat us is no good, èh. c. We gave him as much time as the others, na? d. They don’t really have to do it, isn’t it? e. Last week’s winners were the Chand family. They won a free weekend at the Regent Fiji. Is that styling it, or what?

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f. Seini: [...] The way Alipate came in here and gave her a hiding like this was his house or what! (Thomas 1989: 26) g. Sereana: Aisake, you mad or what, people are sleeping. (Thomas 1991: 83) The tag-like like that/this is often used as a filler: (61)

a. Like when you asking how much for that thing, or like that. b. We just stay home-ga and play volleyball, like that, no? c. And the bus services, like in the morning like that, thing will come after the other.

5.7.

Greeting and leave-taking routines

Fiji English has a number of distinctive greeting and leave-taking routines. Among the most common greetings are: how’s it? and how’s the life? The most distinctive is where you going? – often shortened to where to? – and is used as a greeting made in passing. This formula is probably calqued on the Fijian o lai vei?, but it has become common among the general population. The reply is a formulaic this/that way or this/that side, normally accompanied by an indication of direction, often with a head movement, sometimes by pointing. Another greeting used in passing is bye. Although it is used by all Fiji English speakers, it is more commonly heard from Fijian native speakers as it is a calque on the Fijian moce, which means both ‘good-bye’ and a passing ‘hello’. There are two common leave-taking formulae. The first is simply okay, which can both signal the end of a conversation and indicate the intention to leave (‘I’m going now/I have to go now’). The second is to take the lead and is normally used when the speaker is heading for a place where the addressee is also expected to go later. This is also calqued on a Fijian formula with the verb liu ‘to lead; to go on ahead’. The expression (e.g. I’ll take the lead/I’m taking the lead) is used mostly, but not exclusively, by native speakers of Fijian.

6.

Conclusion

The distribution of these and other grammatical features across the Fiji English lects and speech communities has yet to be established. It is often unclear whether a feature is common to all (or even most) speakers of Fiji English. For instance, the verbs to on/off are probably more common than the use of the a plural marker gang, but whether one can say that the latter is Pure Fiji English whilst the former is Modified Fiji English is still uncertain. Similarly, absence of definite articles and the invariant tag isn’t it? seem more prevalent among native speakers of Fiji

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Hindi, while the use of us-two and the èh tag are more common among native speakers of Fijian. Yet some features which can be traced to one of the substratum languages have spread to the general population. A finer analysis would need to be based on a large-scale empirical study embracing the entire continuum. In the meantime, any conclusions would be premature.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Kelly, Sr. Francis 1975 The English spoken colloquially by a group of adolescents in Suva. Fiji English Teachers Journal 11: 19–43. Lal, Brij V. 1992 Broken Waves: A History of the Fiji Islands in the Twentieth Century. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. Lipton, Sheree 1972 Fiji, I love you, full speed. Wellington: Seven Seas. Mamak, Alexander 1978 Colour, Culture and Conflict: A Study of Pluralism in Fiji. Sydney: Pergamon Press. Siegel, Jeff 1991 Variation in Fiji English. In: Cheshire (ed.), 664–674. 1992 Language change and culture change among Fiji Indians. In: Tom Dutton (ed.), Culture Change, Language Change: Case Studies from Melanesia, 91– 113. Canberra: Pacific Linguistics. Subramani 1988 The Fantasy Eaters. Washington, D.C.: Three Continents Press. Tent, Jan 2000 The dynamics of Fiji English: a study of its use, users and features. Ph.D. dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University of Otago, Dunedin. Thomas, Larry 1989 Just Another Day: A Play. Suva: University of the South Pacific. Thomas, Larry 1991 3 Plays: Outcasts; Yours Dearly; Men, Women and Insanity. Suva: University of the South Pacific.

Norfolk Island-Pitcairn English (Pitkern Norfolk): morphology and syntax Peter Mühlhäusler

1.

Introduction

Details on the history and general nature of the languages have already been given in the chapter on phonetics and phonology (Ingram and Mühlhäusler, other volume) and the reader is referred to these. The reader is reminded again that there is considerable disagreement among the Norfolk islanders as to the spelling system of the language. I have not normalized any of the spellings of the written sources used. As a consequence, the spelling in examples may be different from that given in the text. The reader is reminded that Norfolk Island-Pitcairn English is not a wellknown variety and that the range of linguistic data from which we can make judgments has been quite narrow. Formal interviews and recitation of stories by outsiders or non-speakers have been predominant (in the studies of, for example, Flint [1961], Harrison [1972] and Buffett, who is a native speaker, from the 1980s to the present), and most data collections tend to be heavily focused on decontextualized samples and translations from English. I am in the process of obtaining more natural speech samples, but given the esoteric nature of the language and the shame still associated with it, this is not a straightforward matter, apart from the time it takes to compile a representative sample single handedly. As a consequence, representative information about a number of grammatical and discourse features is not available. The reader is also reminded that the data presented have come from the Norfolk Island variety only (known as Norfuk) as ongoing political problems on Pitcairn Island have made fieldwork there impracticable.

2.

Morphology

Norfuk shares the characteristic of many creoles, koinés and mixed languages of not having a great deal of inflectional or derivational morphology: typologically it combines a low level of synthesis with a low level of fusion. Over the years some morphological features have been borrowed from acrolectal (formal or near-Standard) English and analogical extensions of the English model are in evidence.

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2.1.

Inflectional morphology

Nouns are generally not inflected for number, gender or case, as in wan salan ‘one person’, plenti salan ‘many people’. In more acrolectal speech the English possessive ‘s and the plural -s are encountered though: (1)

All Norfolk h’yu dem two, scream a haed orf right up Peter Buffett’s en breech orf a horse. ‘All Norfolk heard those two screaming their heads off all the way up to Peter Buffett’s [where they] leapt off their horses.’

The emergence of plural marking appears to follow an animacy scale. Words referring to humans frequently take the plural -s. I have observed the same phenomenon in Tok Pisin (Mühlhäusler 1981). (2)

a. strienjas ‘strangers’ b. ijalas ‘overbearing youngsters’ c. as eyulla lettle screppers a’wae ‘as the young striplings awakened’ (Christian 1986) d. One a dem pigs bit his ear clearn off. ‘One of the pigs bit his ear right off.’ (Marrington 1981: 3)

A number of Norfuk nouns always appear as English plurals, but are usually neutral with respect to number, including geese ‘goose, geese’, grieps ‘grape, grapes’, biens ‘bean, beans’, and mais ‘mouse, mice’. Possessive -s in Norfuk can be attached to pronouns to create attributive possessive pronouns such as: singular second yus ‘your’; singular third male his; dual 1+2 himiis ‘belonging to you and me’; dual 2+2 yutuus ‘belonging to the two of you’; dual 3+3 demtuus ‘belonging to the two of them’; plural second yorlis ‘belonging to you guys’; and plural third, dems ‘belonging to them’. The -s ending appears to have been formed analogically from nouns with possible reinforcement by English he − his; the pattern is not fully regular but exhibits some suppletion (e.g. her instead of his). With nouns, possession is signaled in two ways; by means of the preposition for (see section 3.7.) and morphologically by adding an -s to the form or noun phrase: (3)

a. Tommy Snar was Snar Buffett’s son. b. Dad’s voice cried out. (Buffett 1999)

A number of suffixes occur with verbs and adjectives including the -en continuous marker (see section 3.1. on aspect), and the affixes signalling stages of comparison:

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agli – aglia – aglies ‘ugly, uglier, ugliest’

These can also be added to polysyllabic adjectives, including reduplicated ones: (5)

meyameya – meyameyara – meyameyares ‘withered, more withered, most withered’

Predicative adjectives are followed by -en or -an, sometimes linked to the base adjectival form by an intrusive segment -w- or -y-. The conditioning factors are not fully understood and there is speaker variation. (6)

a. hi es piyaalian ‘he is tiny’ b. a horse is roughen ‘the horse is rough’ c. shi se sleprewan ‘she is slippery, untrustworthy’

2.2.

Word formation

For new words Norfuk relies heavily on borrowing from English and its derivational (word-formation) morphology appears to be of limited productivity. The various processes employed to form new words overlap, but are not a subset of, those found in English. They include: Derivation by zero (conversion, multifunctionality): The lexical item morga can mean ‘thin person’ (N), ‘thin’ (ADJ), ‘to make thin’ (V) and ‘daintily’ (ADV) (Buffett 1999: 72). The extent of and constraints on zero derivation in Norfuk remains to be explored, but my own observations suggest that this is one way of making a relatively small lexicon go a long way. Compounding: No systematic analysis of Norfuk compounding is available. Earlier suggestions that it was uncommon (e.g. Gleißner 1997: 57) reflect the absence of a comprehensive dictionary. Eira, Magdalena and Mühlhäusler (2002) have listed many compounds that do not appear in earlier work including compounds of the endocentric type, i.e. the grammatical (sub)category of the compound is identical with that of the head word: (7)

N + ADJ baleful ‘having overeaten’

(8)

N+N a. bacca stuff ‘wild tobacco plant’

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b. baket fish ‘type of red cod’ c. goesbad ‘ghostbird, petrel’ (9)

ADJ + N big worta ‘open sea’

Norfuk also has exocentric compounds, where no single part of the compound can be identified as the head word. Examples include: (10)

N+N faentail ‘kind of bird, fantail’

(11)

ADJ + N Big Jack ‘to weep’ (in memory of Jack Evans who tended to be weepy)

Whereas Norfuk has borrowed many compounds from English, when it comes to finding names for endemic life forms, compounding is usually employed (cf. Mühlhäusler 2002b). Two examples are particularly noteworthy; compounds with the lexical base ‘bastard’ in initial position to indicate a less useful or uncultivated variety as in: (12)

a. bastard aienwood ‘sharkwood tree’ b. bastard oek ‘kind of oak tree’ c. bastard taala ‘non edible taro’

The other example worth special mention are compounds beginning with hoem ‘home’ signalling something of Pitcairn origin as in: (13)

a. hoem naenwi ‘dreamfish’ b. hoem oefi ‘Pitcairn variety of the oefi fish’

Reduplication: Mühlhäusler (2003) has provided a detailed analysis of reduplicated forms in Norfuk: most of these are borrowed from Tahitian or are the result of phonological simplification. Productive reduplication is not greatly in evidence, except perhaps in cases such as:

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a. break break ‘broken into many pieces’ b. boney boney ‘full of bones’ c. bitey bitey ‘kind of biting insect’

Acronyms: Being used mainly as a spoken language, Norfuk does not have acronyms other than those borrowed form English, an exception being the word lap for a minimalist from ‘little as possible’.

3.

Syntax of the Norfolk variety of Pitkern/Norfuk

Norfuk does not have agreement between nouns and verbs, or any other morphosyntactic agreement phenomena. The basic word order of Norfolk is SVO, just as in English and most creole languages. There are, however, many subtle differences between Norfuk and English, for instance in the placement of the indirect object. Because Norfuk has tended to be described as a dialect of English these have tended to escape earlier observers. There is a great need for detailed analysis of a greater range of texts. 3.1.

Tense, modality and aspect (TMA)

TMA has been a diagnostic feature of creole languages ever since Bickerton (1981: 58) postulated his hypothesis of a biological blueprint for human language. Formally, prototypical creoles express TMA by preverbal free morphemes. Tense: In creoles tense is usually not developed and instead, a distinction between punctual and non-punctual and anterior and non-anterior is encountered. The conventional grammars of Norfuk postulate a tense system, but on closer inspection, there may be grounds for postulating a creole system instead. Gleißner (1997: 61−62) notes that: Tense in Norfolk is apparently not seen with respect to the moment of utterance, but in relation to the time of the main event that is talked about. In order to express that an event took place prior or later with respect to the time frame – or will take place in the future, if the time frame refers to the moment of speaking, particles are made use of. Like all verbal markers of Norfolk tense markers precede the verb.

In any event, the indication of tense in Norfuk is optional. Past tense is indicated either by a particle se from English has, as in hi se miekaut ‘he has managed’. A second marker of past tense is bin which typically refers to past continuous (nonpunctual) actions, as in hi bin aut iin a boet ‘he has been out in a boat’. With se,

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note that the infinitive verb form, rather than the past participle, is used. There is an urgent need for an in-depth analysis of tense in Norfuk. Aspect: The suffix -en or -in, signalling continuous action, is by far the most common device but el (< able) is also used for this purpose. (15)

all dem Real Estate maeken dem’s pretty penny (Norfolk Islander September 2000)

(16)

yu tuhituhien ‘you are swearing’ (Buffett 1999)

(17)

all ell doo daan goode fe sullan ‘they are continually doing good things for people’

Habitual action is marked by the auxiliary yuus which signals habitual actions in past or present. (18)

ai yuus a’ tek a’ dena d’werk ‘I [usually] take my lunch to work’ (Buffett 1999)

Completed actions are expressed by a preverbal marker dana (< done) with or without preceding /s/. This construction is found in a number of English Creoles (but not St. Kitts) and in Scottish English (cf. also Kortmann 2004: 252–253) and thus would appear to reflect the influence of the mutineer William McCoy. (19)

when I dana werk I hurry hom ‘when I had finished work I hurried home’

Modality: Modality in Norfuk is expressed in various parts of grammar and the choice of the language itself can indicate modality. Traditionally (Buffett 1999: 51), modality is described as being expressed by the preverbal modal auxiliaries mait, orta, mas, or adverbials as baeta, should, suuna, or rather. 3.2.

The copula

The uninflected forms se(r), s’, es and is are all used as equivalents to English forms of be, with se also overlapping with English has. In addition, zero is found frequently where a copula is obligatory in English. As yet no comprehensive account of this aspect of grammar is available. It would require a detailed analysis of the Tahitian substratum, St. Kitts Creole, Melanesian Pidgin English, and English dialectology to provide explanations for the complexities here. The following rough generalization can be made: 1. equative sentences usually require the copula es: (20)

yu es ners ‘you are a nurse’

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2. adjectives frequently are introduced by zero: (21)

letel salan disdietis daa semiswieh ‘children these days are so peculiar’ (Flint data)

3. se(r) introduces something that results from a previous occurrence, it has perfective meaning: (22)

ai se fatu ‘I am exhausted’

(23)

dem plahn is good’un when ser ripe ‘the bananas are delicious when they are ripe’

3.3.

Negation

The main difference between acrolectal English and Norfuk is the absence of dosupport in general negation. Instead the negators noe, nort or naewa (emphatic negator) appear directly before the verb phrase, as in: (24)

If you no pahahait it good, it a can do. ‘If you do not pound it well enough it just won’t do.’

(25)

Bligh en eighteen dem one nawa mutiny. ‘Bligh and eighteen who did definitely not mutiny.’ (Christian 1986)

Negative imperatives are expressed by duu or dan (both probably derived from English don’t). (26)

du miek agli ‘don’t pull a face’ (Buffett 1999)

Then there is a number of special negative words, including ent (‘is/are/am not’) and kaa or kar ‘cannot’ as in (27) and (28). The past tense cried in (27) illustrates code shifting to English. (27)

Ent me, dar youngest boy cried out. ‘It wasn’t me, the youngest boy shouted.’

(28)

He kar dunna laugh. ‘He couldn’t help but laugh.’ (Harrison 1972)

3.4.

Relativization

Norfuk does not employ relative pronouns. Restrictive relative clauses are simply inserted after the noun, as in:

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(29)

De es thing in everebohdi lew iin Australia kam fram Norfolk Island. ‘This is something with everybody from Norfolk who lives in Australia.’ (Norfolk Islander May 2001)

(30)

Tell all ucklun de thing yuu bin think es ‘jes hawen fun. ‘Tell all of us [islanders] what you meant by “just having fun”.’ (Norfolk Islander May 2001)

In acrolectal varieties, English relative pronouns are sometimes used: (31)

to all yorlye who have been so kind ‘To all of you who have been so kind’ (Norfolk Islander June 2001)

Relative clauses dealing with time or location are typically introduced by taim/ when ‘when’, wieh ‘where’ or said/side ‘where’: (32)

dem use a go over Rawson Hall dana side Brooky use a play da piano ‘they are (or were) used to going over to Rawson Hall to there where Brooky [habitually] plays the piano’ (Norfolk Islander January 2001)

(33)

dae es jess something me and Willie like a larn when wi grow up in Cascade ‘that is just something Willie and I liked to learn when we grew up in Cascade’ (Norfolk Islander January 2001)

(34)

ai si said yu kat ‘show me where you cut yourself’ (literally ‘may I see’)

3.5.

Complex sentences

Coordination of sentences differs from English only in the strong tendency to omit the conjunction en ‘and’. The use of the other two conjunctions bat ‘but’ and ala ‘or’ is as in English. A common type of subordination is complementation. The equivalents in Norfuk of the English complementizer that are zero or fe, as in (35) and (36): (35)

Es time Ø we tek notice of dem old sullen. ‘It is time that we take notice of the old people.’ (Norfolk Islander November 2002)

(36)

seed se ready jes fe pick ‘the seeds were ready to be picked’ (Buffett 1999)

There also are a large number of other complementizers to embed clauses. Most of them are used as in acrolectal English, including anless ‘unless’, orlthoe ‘although’, wail ‘while’, bifor ‘before’, kos ‘because’. But a number of different ones are noted: dumain ‘even if’, spoesen, ifen, siemtaim ‘at the time when’, lorng as

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‘as long as’, semeswieh ‘just like’. The noun said ‘place, side’ is often used in the sense of ‘because’, as in (37): (37)

mied hi klaay iise es said dem yuus’ roh’nek ‘the reason he cries easily is because they pamper him too much’ [literally: ‘treat him like a rotten egg’] (Buffett 1999)

Subordination (particularly non-finite) is often not signalled by any overt markers. Consider (38): (38)

Bussen hii f pulloo, one day orf ar Cord, he usen his shet-knife, d pride of his life. ‘(When he was) crushing periwinkles for bait one day off the Cord, he was using his sheath-knife, the pride of his life.’ (Christian 1986)

3.6.

Noun phrase structure

The basic NP is a noun without any modifiers, as in: (39)

surf se nehse ‘the sea is rough’

Prenominal modifiers can be added, usually in the order: Determiner, Possessive Pronoun, Number, Adjective, Noun: (40)

dies tuu oel giel ‘these two old women’

(41)

mais tuu black faul ‘my two black hens’

Norfuk determiners are unstable and highly variable as an older system involving a specific-non specific distinction interacts with the English acrolectal definiteindefinite distinction. No adjectival postmodifiers occur in Norfuk, but nominal possession is signalled by means of the preposition fe, f’ as in: (42)

aa kau fe mais bradhas ‘that cow of my brother’

(43)

ar pine fer Robinsons ‘Robinson’s pine’ [a placename]

Note the use of the definite article ar in (43). 3.7.

Pronominal systems

The pronominal system of Norfuk is more complex than that of English. It has singular, plural and dual, as well as an inclusive/exclusive distinction in the first

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person, and a special pronoun aklan (uklun, ucklan) which expresses belonging to the Pitcairner descendant community. The possessive forms are either expressed by adding -s or by special forms. The basic paradigm looks as follows: Table 1.

Norfuk personal and possessive pronouns

Subject

Object

Possessive

mii yuu hem her et

mais yus his her –

himii miienhem miienher yutuu demtuu

himiis auwas auwas yutuus demtuus

aklan yorlyi dem

aklan yorlyis dems

Singular: Ai Yu hi shi – Dual: himii miienhem miienher yutuu demtuu Plural: wi yorlyi dem

4.

Some research interests

I am currently working on a social history of the languages of Norfolk Island in an attempt to document the interplay between acrolectal varieties of English, contact with dialects of English during the days of the Melanesian Mission (cf. also Mühlhäusler 2002a), the Mota language of the Melanesian Mission which had its headquarters on Norfolk from 1867 to 1920, the Pidgin English spoken by Melanesian students and in the whaling industry, and the role of educational policies in changing the linguistic ecology of Norfolk Island. Both Pitcairn and Norfuk were uninhabited when the Pitcairners arrived and an important question is how the new arrivals named places, flora and fauna. I have just completed a paper on place names, drawing attention to the dual naming system on Norfolk, where a large number of Norfuk names are used side by

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side the official Australian ones. It is remarkable that Pitcairn place names did not travel to Norfolk but that a new system developed there. Further, many place names recall individual islanders or episodes in their lives. For instance Ar side for Beras was named after the famous spot of the local fisherman with the nickname “Bera”, Daarnek refers to a sharp projection rock at a good fishing spot, Ar side for Honey’s remembers the drowning of Honey Quintal, Simon’s Water is a nonpermanent creek on a property owned by Simon. Spatial orientation on Norfolk Island appears to follow a system of absolute reference points with two main axes (a) away from main centre and (b) from coast upwards: Down-A-Town is Kingston and Up-in-a-Stick ‘up in the woods’ is located in Selwyn Pine Road, in the remote forested part of the north coast. Kingston would also seem to be a reference point for other names. Locations far away from Kingston bear names such as Out ar Mission ‘out on the mission’ and Out ar Station ‘the remote parts on the West Coast where the cable station is located’. The location of Out Yenna ‘out yonder’ is located near Duncombe Bay. Outa Moo-o Stone is located in the remote North. The natural kinds that the first settlers encountered on both islands were to a very significant extent unique, endemic species. Information on how they got named provides important evidence for the debate whether names reflect innate cognitive studies or utilitarian factors. The evidence from both islands suggests that the latter is the case, and that many species that have no cultural use remain unnamed, ignored and often mismanaged. An interesting example is the expression rokfish ‘any fish that can be caught when fishing from a coastal rock’. Ecological management on both islands has been little short of disastrous, and the inability of the new arrivals to talk about their environment may have played a role in this environmental decline (Mühlhäusler 1996). I am in the process of collecting more ethnobotanical information. Both Pitkern and Norfuk are endangered languages and their speakers have become concerned about declining competence among the younger generation. On Norfolk Island I have been asked to work on a long-term plan to reverse language shift. A draft proposal currently being discussed has been submitted (Mühlhäusler 2002b). Part of the revival process is a syllabus for Norfuk Language which has been designed by Suzanne Evans during 2002 as part of her graduate studies at the University of Adelaide, and it is hoped that it will be implemented from 2004. Working with small languages of necessity is action research and a considerable part of my fieldwork is given to working on matters of concern to the community. The Pitcairn/Norfuk language has often been labelled a laboratory test case for linguists, but in comparison to its potential very little actual work has been done to date. My own long-term goal is to find an explanation for the still mysterious emergence of the Pitcairn/Norfuk language on Pitcairn Island. In order to do this, it is essential to have a thorough knowledge of the sociohistorical factors that have

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driven this process and to employ up-to-date linguistic methods. Past researchers have concentrated on the question of English dialect influence and on the operations of a biological blueprint of creole features (Bickerton 1981). Neither the Tahitian influence nor borrowing from St. Kitts Creole has been given much attention. A main obstacle is the patchy nature of past records and the continuing variability in the language. Part of the process of making Norfuk a language of education is the provision of teaching materials. An exhaustive dictionary of Norfuk has been prepared at the University of Adelaide (Eira, Magdalena and Mühlhäusler 2002). An outstanding problem is the question of the orthography for the language. The community remains divided as to whether to accept Buffett’s proposal (1995, 1999), Nobbs Palmer’s orthography (1992), or to develop another system. Because of the potential for conflict, I have judged it as opportune not to get involved in the discussions. Orthographic systems are usually determined by a large number of sociopolitical factors rather than linguistic considerations.

5.

Conclusions

Reducing an unfocussed unwritten language such as Norfuk to a linguistic grammar is not an easy task and potentially a very dangerous one for the small community that speaks it. Language written down can exercise normative pressure and restrict the healthy heterogeneity of language and use of language on Norfolk Island. Once standardized the language will be of far less interest to the linguistic profession and to its speakers. As things stand there is still a great deal of work, not just in the description of this language but also in comparing it to other English Polynesian contact varieties such as Palmerston English, Bonin English or Hawaiian Pidgin.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Buffett, Alice I. 1995 The writing of Norfolk. In: Tom Dutton, Malcolm Ross and Darrell Tryon (eds.), The Language Game, 75–80 [Series C–110]. Canberra: Pacific Linguistics, Australian National University. 1999 Speak Norfolk Today. An Encyclopedia of the Norfolk Island Language. Norfolk Island: Himii Publishing Company.

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Christian, Ena Ette 1986 From Myse Randa. Norfolk Island: Photopress International. Eira, Christine, Melina Magdalena and Peter Mühlhäusler 2002 A Draft Dictionary of the Norfolk Language. Adelaide: Discipline of Linguistics. Flint, Elwyn 1961 Bilingual interaction between Norfolk Island Language and English. Paper presented to the first conference of the Linguistic Circle of Canberra. Gleißner, Andrea 1997 The dialect of Norfolk Island. M.A. thesis, Department of English and American Studies, University of Regensburg. Harrison, Shirley 1972 The languages of Norfolk Island. M.A. thesis, Macquarie University, North Ryde. Kortmann, Bernd 2004 Do as a tense and aspect marker in varieties of English. In: Kortmann (ed.), 245–275. Marrington, Pauline 1981 In the Sweet Bye and Bye. Sydney: Reed. Mühlhäusler, Peter 1981 The development of the category of number in Tok Pisin. In: Pieter Muysken (ed.), Generative Studies on Creole Languages, 35–84. Dordrecht: Foris. 1996 Linguistic adaptation to changed environmental conditions: some lessons from the past. In: Alwin Fill (ed.), Sprachökologie und Ökolinguistik, 105– 130. Tübingen: Stauffenburg. 2002a Pidgin English and the Melanesian Mission. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 17: 237–263. 2002b A language plan for Norfolk Island. In: David Bradley and Maya Bradley (eds.), Language Endangerment and Language Maintenance, 167–181. London: RoutledgeCurzon. 2003 A note on reduplication in Pitkern-Norfolk. In: Silvia Kouwenberg (ed.), Twice as Meaningful: Morphological Reduplication in Contact Languages, 239–243. London: Battlebridge. Palmer, Beryl Nobbs A Dictionary of Norfolk Words and Usages. Norfolk Island: Photopress 19922 International.

Introduction: varieties of English in Africa and South and Southeast Asia Rajend Mesthrie

1.

Historical spread and geographical coverage

The presence of English (and other European languages) in Africa and South and Southeast Asia (henceforth Africa-Asia) is due to several historical events: sporadic and subsequently sustained trade, the introduction of Christianity, slavery, formal British colonisation, and influence from the U.S. (in places like Liberia and the Philippines). Furthermore, after colonisation independent “new nations” were faced with few options but to adopt English as a working language of government, administration and higher education. These contacts have seen the development of several types of English: ENL (English as a Native language), spoken by British settlers and/or their descendants, as in Zimbabwe, South Africa, Hong Kong etc. (The variety may be adopted by other groups within a territory as well). ESL (English as a Second Language), spoken in territories like India and Nigeria, where access to English was sufficient to produce a stable second language (L2) used in formal domains like education and government. The ESL is also used for internal communication within the territory, especially as a lingua franca amongst educated speakers who do not share the same mother tongue. Pidgin English, a variety which arises outside of the educational system and is only partly derived from English, especially in its lexicon; though structurally it cannot really be considered an ‘adoption’ of English syntax. An example would be Pidgin English in Cameroon. A pidgin shows equally significant influence from both local languages and common or ‘universal’ processes of simplification and creation of grammatical structure. Some pidgins may turn into a creole (spoken as a first language). In Africa and Asia this is not common, since speakers frequently retain their home and community languages. Some scholars are of the opinion that West African varieties of pidgin have expanded into a creole without necessarily becoming a first language.

These three types are described in the Africa-Asia section of this Handbook. A fourth type EFL (English as a Foreign Language) is not considered, since it arises typically for international communication amongst a few bilingual people competent in English in a territory that had not come under the direct influence of British settlement and colonial administration. In such a situation English is learnt in the education system as a “foreign language”, but is not used as a medium of instruction. This is truer of some territories than others: China is clearly an EFL country;

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Eritrea less so, in terms of the greater use of English by fluent bilinguals in the domain of education. British “Protectorates” like Lesotho and Egypt, which were subject to British influence without being formally colonised, also form an intermediate category somewhere between ESL and EFL. It would not be surprising if the current era of globalisation established English more firmly in EFL territories, producing more focussed varieties which could one day be studied in terms of the concepts and categories emphasised in ESL studies. Finally, there are what I term “language shift Englishes” – varieties which started as ESLs, but which stabilise as an L1. They then develop casual registers often absent from ESLs (since a local language fulfils ‘vernacular’ functions). However, they retain a great many L2 features as well. Amongst the varieties of note here are Indian South African English and, elsewhere, Irish English. Africa-Asia is distinguishable from the remaining regions covered in this Handbook by the preponderance of ESL varieties, rather than the L1 English which dominates in the U.K., the U.S., Canada, Australia and New Zealand. In other words, indigenous African and Asian languages have survived the impact of colonisation better than their counterparts elsewhere. Though English is seen as an important resource for international communication as well as for internal “High” functions (in formal domains like education and government), its hegemony in Africa-Asia is not complete. There are other languages of high status which may function as regional lingua francas, for example Swahili in East Africa, Hindi in North India and Malay in Singapore and Malaysia. At the lower end of the social and educational spectrum it is noteworthy that Pidgin English is spreading rapidly in West Africa. According to Faraclas (this Handbook), Nigerian Pidgin is now the most widely spoken language in Nigeria, with well over half the population being able to converse in it. Africa’s contacts with English pre-date those of the U.S. and the Caribbean. The earliest contacts were in the 1530s (Spencer 1971: 8), making early Modern English, with accents slightly older than Shakespeare’s, the initial (if sporadic) input. In Asia the initial contacts with English go back to 1600 when Queen Elizabeth I granted a charter to the merchants of London who formed the East India Company. The full force of English in Africa-Asia was not felt until formal colonisation in the nineteenth century (for example Singapore in 1819, India in 1858, Nigeria 1884, Kenya 1886). A representative selection of the varieties spoken in these territories is given in this Handbook. The geographical coverage is that of West Africa, East Africa, South Africa, South Asia and Southeast Asia. In addition we have taken on board the South Atlantic island of St. Helena, whose nearest mainland port is Cape Town.

Introduction: varieties of English in Africa and South and Southeast Asia

2.

807

Second language acquisition

Since the focus in the Africa-Asia section is mainly on ESLs, the dialectological approach has to be supplemented by insights from Second Language Acquisition (SLA) theory. No ESL variety is uniform; rather it exists as a continuum of varying features, styles and abilities. The terms basilect, mesolect and acrolect are borrowed from Creole studies, where they denote first language varieties on a continuum. The terms basilang, mesolang and acrolang are sometimes used in connection with interlanguage studies, denoting the individual’s level of competence in the L2, rather than a relatively focussed group norm (a newcomer in the L1 English metropolis might learn English as a L2 without being part of a group of L2 learners). Most writers in New English studies adopt the Creole-based terms, without serious misunderstandings. However, in principle, there is a need to distinguish between basilect and basilang, because there is a difference between the fluent norms of a basilect and the rudimentary knowledge of an L2 in a basilang. Since the ESL varieties described in this Handbook are relatively focused and stable the labels basilect, mesolect, acrolect will continue to be used. At one end of the New English continuum are varieties characteristic of beginning L2 learners or learners who have fossilised at an early stage and evince no need or desire to progress further in their interlanguage variety (basilectal speakers). If they are just beginning an acquaintance with the target language, they are strictly speaking basilang speakers. At the other end are speakers who, by virtue of their education, motivation, life-styles and contacts with L1 and educated L2 speakers of English may well become so fluent as to be near-native (or acrolectal) speakers of English. Situated between these endpoints is the vast majority of ESL users, who speak fluently but whose norms deviate significantly from those of L1 speakers as well as acrolectal ESL speakers. These are the mesolectal speakers, whose norms are the ones most writers in this section have chosen to focus on, since they represent a kind of average value of the ESL. They are not as strongly denigrated as more basilang varieties might be in terms of intelligibility and fluency. They also pose fewer problems about the reliability of data, since a basilang speaker’s command might not be fluent enough to decide what norms underlie his or her speech. Mesolectal ESL varieties display a degree of levelling of the target language (Standard English) in for example tense forms, prepositions, word order and so on. Moreover, many of these features are carried over into the (unedited) written language of individuals. Finally, mesolectal varieties are more representative of the local ethos than acrolectal varieties. The latter are sometimes stigmatised as being affected or representing outside norms. Phrases like “speaking through the nose” in Nigeria and Zimbabwe or been tos (‘people who have been abroad’) in India and Nigeria reflect this disaffection on

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the part of the general populace of the ESL acrolectal elite who might stray too close to the norms of Received Pronunciation (RP). Just as stigmatised is what is described in Ghanaian English terminology as LAFA (‘Locally Acquired Foreign Accent’) – see Huber’s article on Ghanaian English Phonology in this Handbook. The provisos mentioned by other editors in their introductions regarding the nature of dialectal description also hold for the present area. Where an item is described as a feature, it is not claimed to be unique to the variety concerned. Nor is it necessarily the only variant within the ESL being described. The influence of the standard in formal communication makes it likely that the equivalent standard feature is also in use (especially in syntax), and may even be more commonly employed than the item described as a feature. Several concepts from Second Language Acquisition Studies are an essential part of New English studies, especially input, Foreigner Talk and Teacher Talk, overgeneralization, analogy and transfer. The robustness of the substrate languages in Africa and Asia makes the likelihood of their influence on ESL very great. Indeed, many researchers take substrate influence to be axiomatic in phonology and only slightly less so in syntax, pragmatics and lexis. For syntax, however, there is reason to be cautious. In some areas it is possible that what is popularly believed to be interference, might be a survival from a nonstandard dialect of British English or even a survival of a form that was once standard but was later jettisoned in the history of Standard English (see for example McCormick’s account of Cape Flats English in this Handbook). This issue will be discussed in more detail in my synopsis at the end of the Handbook Many contributors use RP and Standard British English as points of comparison. However, it is important to keep in mind that this is rather a matter of convenience and that RP and Standard British English function as a kind of metalanguage in that respect. RP, especially, would have been, and continues to be, rather remote from the experiences of ESL learners. Especially for the earliest periods in which English was introduced to what were to become the colonies, several non-standard varieties were part of the initial input. The earliest teachers and providers of input were missionaries (frequently EFL users themselves), sailors, soldiers, hunters, tradesmen, divers and so forth. Teachers with certificates arrived on the scene later. The notion of a target language then should not be construed too literally: more often it was a varied, vexatious and moving target (see Mesthrie 2003). It is necessary to tackle the prejudice against New Englishes, sometimes evident amongst their own speakers. Although prescriptive-minded critics would prefer to see many of the features identified in this section as errors to be eradicated, their presence must be seen within a broader context. An ESL exists within a local “linguistic ecology”. It must therefore become referentially adequate to describe local topography, fauna, customs and so forth. It also has to blend in with the local linguistic ecology by being receptive to favoured turns of phrase, structural pos-

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sibilities and habits of pronunciation. That is, for English to function “normally” in a country like India, it has to become Indian – a fact that the work of Kachru (e.g. 1983) constantly reminds us of.

3.

Resources

It is only recently that the study of ESLs has come to be seen as a productive sociolinguistic enterprise. Studies of individual varieties have often been based on written sources, both of published writers and of students’ writings at school and university. Convenient though this means of accessing data is, for psycholinguistic veracity it is preferable to focus on the spoken word. Most authors in the AfricaAsia section of this Handbook have based their descriptions on speech samples or a combination of written (especially when summarising previous research) and spoken data. Corpus Linguistics is beginning to make its presence felt in this area. The most influential corpora are the ICE Corpora (International Corpus of English) originating at the University of London. The ICE corpora in East Africa under the directorship of Josef Schmied and in South Africa under Chris Jeffery have yielded significant data and analyses. Schmied (this Handbook) describes the potential of the World Wide Web in gathering informal written data in the East African context. In India, the Kolhapur corpus is based on written Indian English. Other smaller-scale corpora are mentioned by individual authors.

4.

The chapters on phonology

Gut’s chapter deals with the phonological features of L2 English in Nigeria. In such a vast territory with about 500 languages, it is likely that several Englishes coexist: Gut summarizes her own research as well as that of others according to region and the major regional languages – Hausa, Yoruba and Igbo. She also summarizes her important investigations into suprasegmental phonology, with the analysis of tone being a major challenge for any student of English in Africa. Elugbe’s article focuses on Pidgin English in Nigeria, one of the fastest growing languages in West Africa. This study offers the opportunity of examining whether the same features of L2 phonology of Nigerian English co-exist in the pidgin, including features of stress and tone. Huber describes the phonology of Ghanaian English, affording opportunities of comparing features of English in a country which prides itself on its education system and in the teaching of English with that of other West African varieties. Huber contributes a second chapter on Pidgin English in Ghana. This chapter again shows the overlap between pidgin and L2 English phonology in West Africa. Singler’s article on Liberian Settler English phonology introduces

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the sound system of a variety whose origins lie in the speech of slaves who were returned from the American South in the 19th century to found the state of Liberia. Together with Krio, Liberian Settler English is important for its influence on pidgins that developed independently in West Africa. It is also important for historical studies of African American English, since the two varieties are so closely linked. The last two contributions on West Africa are Bobda’s comprehensive examination of Cameroon English phonology and Menang’s account of the phonology of Kamtok, the name he prefers for Cameroon Pidgin English. His focus is on the reductions to the English vowel system evident in the pidgin. East Africa is represented by the article by Schmied, which focuses on the similarities between the English varieties spoken in Kenya, Tanzania and Uganda. South Africa presents special challenges to the descriptive linguist, since several types of English are encountered: ENL, ESL and language-shift varieties. The policy of apartheid created relatively rigid boundaries around people, their languages and dialects. It was accordingly felt that a description of the four major varieties according to ethnicity was preferable to any other forms of segmentation. Bowerman describes White South Africa English, tracing its roots in Southern British dialects and describing subsequent influences arising either spontaneously or out of contact with Afrikaans. He also briefly points to its relation with other Southern Hemisphere Englishes in Australia and New Zealand. Van Rooy outlines the main phonological features of Black South African English, now a major player in post-apartheid broadcasting, business etc. The article affords significant grounds of comparison with other varieties of English in Africa. Mesthrie provides a description of the phonology of Indian South African English, which had previously been studied mainly for its syntax. Finn provides a detailed description of the phonology of Cape Flats English, the variety spoken by people formerly classified “coloured” in Cape Town and its environs. His paper details the balance between (a) (British and South African) English dialect features, (b) second language interlanguage forms adapted, rather than deriving directly, from EnglishAfrikaans bilingualism and (c) some spontaneous innovations in the variety. Wilson provides an overview of the phonology of St Helena English, a variety showing links to British dialects as well as to English-based Creoles. Gargesh provides an overview of the phonology of Indian English, stressing that it has major regional varieties, especially in the North and South, corresponding to the respective Indic and Dravidian phonological systems. Mahboob and Ahmar describe Pakistani English, which shares many features with the northern varieties of Indian English. Ahmar’s contribution is followed by three articles on Southeast Asian varieties. Lionel Wee describes the phonology of Singaporean English, while Baskaran covers Malaysian English, which has previously been linked with Singapore English on the basis of their common socio-political history. Tayo describes the phonology

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of Philippines English, which is targeted towards American rather than British English, the only such L2 (non-creole) variety in Africa-Asia.

5.

The chapters on morphology and syntax

Each article in the Africa-Asia phonology section has a counterpart in the morphology and syntax section, except for the Philippines. In addition there is an article on Butler English morphology and syntax, for which no corresponding account of the phonology exists. It would appear that more research is being done on the morphology and syntax of New Englishes than on the phonology. Alo and Mesthrie summarise the existing research on Nigerian English, showing how it is fairly typical of African English (or more properly, sub-Saharan English). Faraclas offers a detailed overview of Nigerian Pidgin English, focussing to a large extent on its tense-aspect-modality system. Huber and Dako examine educated Ghanaian English, which has much in common with other West African varieties, though there are noteworthy differences in the area of the ordering of subordinate clauses of time and related constructions. In his chapter on Ghanaian Pidgin English morphology and syntax, Huber argues that in some respects this variety appears to be a simplified version of other pidgins in the West African area, for example Nigerian Pidgin. Singler’s chapter on Liberian Settler English describes the way in which this variety has retained older features of African American English, and can therefore be used to contribute significantly to the current debate on the origins of African American English. He also details the subsequent influence of local (non-Creole) varieties of English upon Liberian Settler English. Mbagwana contributes an engaging account of the morphology and syntax of Cameroon English. Whilst a few features (e.g. invariant tags in tag questions) can be considered “garden variety” African English (and New English) structures, a number of the features he describes are not (e.g. an apparent predilection for whwords to be retained in situ in main and subordinate clauses.) The reasons for this innovativeness in the Cameroon have still to be ascertained. Ayafor describes the morphology and syntax of Kamtok, the pidgin English of Cameroon. Unlike its ESL counterpart in Cameroon, as described by Mbagwana, Kamtok does appear to be similar to other varieties of West African Pidgin English. Schmied describes the syntax of East African English (Kenya, Uganda and Tanzania). He outlines several general tendencies towards the modification of the grammar of Standard English, often in the direction of simplification. With respect to the South African varieties, Bowerman outlines the main grammatical features of White South African English, pointing to ongoing debates about the relative significance of retentions from British dialect grammar over language contact with Afrikaans. Mesthrie’s overview of Black South African

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English shows it to be in most respects similar to the “core” grammar of East and West African Englishes. Mesthrie also contributes a chapter on Indian South African English, showing that whilst the variety has much in common with its antecedent in India, it has innovated a great deal in the process of language shift in the South African environment. McCormick describes Cape Flats English, a variety which shows a fair degree of convergence between the grammars of English and Afrikaans. Wilson and Mesthrie contribute an overview of St. Helena English, especially of its verb phrase component, which shows a convergence between a pidgin-like system and a more superstratal British English system. Bhatt provides an overview of the grammar of Indian English, from the viewpoint of modern generative syntax. Hosali gives an overview of Butler English, the minimal pidgin (or fossilised early interlanguage) which originated between domestic servants and their masters in British India. Mahboob covers Pakistani English morphology and syntax, which again has a lot in common with the Northern varieties of Indian English as well as with the New Englishes generally. Lionel Wee describes the morphology and syntax of Singaporean English, detailing some “positive” innovations, including the addition of new forms of the relative clause and passive. Baskaran describes Malaysian English and focuses on the extent to which substrate languages like Malay and Tamil may have played a role in engendering the typical features of Malayasian English morphology and syntax.

References Mesthrie, Rajend 2003 The World Englishes paradigm and contact linguistics – refurbishing the foundations. World Englishes 22: 449-62.

Nigerian English: morphology and syntax* M.A. Alo and Rajend Mesthrie

1.

Introduction

Nigerian English (NigE) is a term used to designate the variety of English spoken (and sometimes written) in Nigeria. NigE is an indigenised variety of English, functioning as a second language within the Nigerian linguistic and socio-cultural setting. It therefore has a distinctive local Nigerian flavour, which can be seen at all levels of linguistic organisation. Among the factors that have contributed to this distinctness are the following: (a) (b) (c) (d) (e)

mode of acquisition primarily via the classroom transfer (“interference”) from many of Nigeria’s indigenous languages culture contact (including bilingualism and biculturalism) sociolinguistic functions (including the high status accorded to English) influence of dialectal features from non-Standard British English (StBrE) sources (e.g. recent influence from AmE)

The details of the initial introduction of English in West Africa and its subsequent growth and stabilisation is given in the chapter on Nigerian English phonology (other volume). Certain aspects of that overview pertaining to the sub-varieties of English in Nigeria are worth reiterating in deciding which sub-variety’s features count as part of a “core” syntax of NigE. Brosnahan (1958) identified four levels of proficiency in the use of English, together with their corresponding levels of education, of typical speakers: Level 1 (pidgin) : Level 2 : Level 3 : Level 4 :

no formal education only primary education completed only secondary education completed university education completed

According to this scheme, the level of proficiency progresses with educational attainments of users. This assumption is, of course, not infallible. Furthermore, the placement of pidgin in this classification is problematic. Nigerian scholars do not recognise pidgin as a variety of English alone, but rather as an independent code. Banjo’s (1971) classification, in contrast, is based on the extent of transfer from speakers’ mother-tongues and of approximation to a standard variety of English. In his scale, Variety 1 (V1) exhibits the greatest density of mother-tongue transfer, whilst Variety 4 (V4) exhibits the least. Varieties 2 (V2) and 3 (V3) are intermedi-

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M. A. Alo and Rajend Mesthrie

ate. See the companion chapter on NigE phonology by Ulrike Gut (other volume) for details. Banjo (1995: 205) remarks that V3 is a home-grown variety and is accordingly more appropriate as an endonormative standard model than V4. The latter is an exonormative variety inculcated by speakers with direct experience of living in Britain. For the purposes of this essay, the features described will be that of V2 and V3 rather than V4. In this we echo Banjo’s (1995) concern for an appropriate model […] based on the twin criteria of social acceptability and international intelligibility, on the assumption that such a model, given the second-language situation, should possess a high prestige at home and reasonably easy intelligibility abroad. (Banjo 1995: 209)

One problem with this typology, as pointed out by Bamgbose (1992: 152), is that not all features of Nigerian lexis, semantics and syntax can be accounted for in terms of substrate interference. Many features result from the normal process of language development, including narrowing or extension of meaning and the creation of new idioms. The last categorisation of relevance is that of Jowitt (1991: vii), who posits two broad poles – Standard English (StE) and popular NigE, and claims that “usage of every Nigerian user is a mixture of standard forms and popular Nigerian English forms, which are in turn composed of errors and variants.” There are critics who deny the existence of Nigerian English, seeing it as a mixed bag of errors, especially in the case of prepositions, articles, concord and the like. As in cases elsewhere, we confine ourselves to identifying recurrent features of syntax in NigE, without prescriptive bias. However, it is necessary to factor out the efforts of “learner language” and focus on the speech characteristics of fluent (and usually educated) speakers, identified by previous researchers – our chief sources being Bamgbose (1992 [1982]), Banjo (1971) and Jowitt (1991). Our examples are also based on data from speech and (where specified) writing drawn from the senior author M.A. Alo. On the whole we concur with Bamgbose’s (1992: 154) insistence that “the natural and spontaneous usage of the locally educated Nigerian user of English is a more reliable guide to the identification of typical Nigerian usage.”

2.

Tense – aspect – modality systems

2.1.

Tense

There is little to be said about tense categories used by educated speakers. Jowitt (1991: 116) notes that errors of inflection are common amongst V1 and V2 speakers but are stigmatised by educated speakers. Such stigmatised forms include the occasional use of unmarked verb forms for both present and simple past as in (1), the occasional double marking of the simple past in negatives and interrogatives as in (2) and (3).

Nigerian English: morphology and syntax

(1)

Yesterday they go to your office. (Jowitt 1991: 117)

(2)

He did not went.

(3)

Did she wanted him? (Jowitt 1991: 117)

815

Other features include the occasional regularisation of past endings like grinded for ground and hitted for hit and the occasional lack of third person sg. present tense -s. Further facets of tense formation are given under section 3. on auxiliaries. 2.2.

Aspect

As in many varieties of English as a Second Language (ESL), the distinction between stative and non-stative verbs is overridden. This applies particularly to verbs of perception like see, hear, smell, taste, feel and recognise: (4)

I am smelling something burning. ‘…smell…’

(5)

I am hearing you. ‘…hear/can hear…’

(6)

It is tasting terrible. ‘…tastes…’

In Nigerian languages, these examples would be unremarkable since verbs of perception freely take the progressive. The use of be + -ing also applies to other stative verbs: (7)

We are having something to do. ‘…have…’

2.3.

Modality

The modal auxiliaries show several differences from StE usage. Jowitt (1991: 122) notes the phrase can be able, which, as in other varieties of English in Africa, is an equivalent of can or am/is/are able. In the expression of politeness the present form of modals is preferred to the standard, (indirect) past forms: thus will for ‘would’, can for ‘could’, shall for ‘should’ and may for ‘might’: (8)

I will be happy, if you can come, please. ‘…would…’

(9)

I will like to see you, sir. ‘…would…’

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M. A. Alo and Rajend Mesthrie

Jowitt (1991: 120) points to the use of might have in a rather complex manner in NigE: (10)

After the referee might have arrived the match will begin.

This use of modal + perfect is not a direct equivalent of BrE ‘After the referee arrives/will arrive the match will begin’. Sentence (10) does not presuppose the arrival of the referee, rather, it expresses some uncertainty about the matter. Sentence (10) thus does not have a direct equivalent in StE, but would have to be unscrambled and rephrased as (11): (11)

It is not certain that the referee will arrive, but if he does the match will begin.

Jowitt (1991: 122) mentions a similar semantics for must have to, which corresponds to StE ‘must’ ‘shall have to’ or ‘will have to’. Jowitt (1991: 124) describes patterns of cliticisation of modals and be with pronouns. Forms like isn’t, I’m and she’s are common. However, forms like I’ve and you’re, involving cliticisation of ’ve and ’re, are rarer. Forms like I’ll and I’d are very rare, even in colloquial speech. 3.

Auxiliaries

Jowitt (1991: 123) notes that complex auxiliary forms with have and be tend to be avoided in popular NigE. Thus forms like the future perfect (will have V), perfect infinitive (to have V+ -en) and the continuous forms of perfect tenses (to have been V+ -ing) are rare in lower sociolects, but make an appearance in V3 speech. Jowitt also notes that the use of present and past continuous tenses for future reference appears to be avoided, as simple future tenses seem to suffice. He links this one-to-one mapping to the needs of learners, who hypothesise that future time always requires a future tense. As far as other auxiliaries are concerned, Jowitt (1991: 123) notes that in popular NigE “might seems to have less currency than must or should, and needn’t, dare and be to in all forms are avoided.” The use of auxiliaries in response to yes/no, tag and echo questions differs from StE. Yes/no questions with auxiliary have frequently meet with a response that uses some form of do: (12)

Q: A:

Have you been to university of Ibadan, today? I didn’t go.

(13)

Q: A:

Have you seen John? No, I didn’t.

In (12) and (13) the expected response in StE would involve either a simple affirmative or negative (yes/no) and/or the repetition of the auxiliary have (I have/I haven’t).

Nigerian English: morphology and syntax

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As in other parts of Africa and Asia, the invariant tag isn’t it is favoured by NigE speakers: (14)

You like that, isn’t it?

The invariant form avoids the complexities of StE tag formation, which requires copying the pronoun form, copying the auxiliary (or adding do if no auxiliary exists in the main clause) and reversing the polarity of the main verb (positive to negative or vice versa). Jowitt (1991: 123) points out that invariant isn’t it occurs with echo questions too: (15)

a. A. B.

He didn’t greet his father. (echo question) Didn’t he? (StE)

b. A. B.

He didn’t greet his father. (echo question) Isn’t it? (NigE)

As invariant all-purpose tags and verification questions occur in Nigerian languages like Hausa and Igbo, it is possible that there is a convergent effect between second-language learning strategies and transfer from the mother-tongue. A related phenomenon – responses to yes/no questions couched in the negative – is discussed in the next section. 4.

Negatives

Jowitt (1991: 124) notes that contracted negatives, as in (16a), are preferred to contracted verb forms (16b), even when the need for emphasis might make the latter preferable in StE: (16)

a. She won’t come. b. She’ll not come.

Jowitt (1991: 121) also notes that double negatives are not found in popular NigE. This generalisation holds for educated NigE as well. NigE shows similarities to other varieties of African English in its response to yes/no questions couched in the negative. A detailed analysis of the dynamics of this construction occurs in Mesthrie’s analysis of Black South African English (this volume). NigE appears to be quite similar. That is, yes/no questions posed positively show no differences between NigE and StE: (17)

Q: A:

Did Ayo receive his award? Yes (he did) or No (he didn’t). (NigE and StE)

On the other hand, the same question posed negatively evokes a different response pattern in NigE:

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M. A. Alo and Rajend Mesthrie

(18)

Q: A:

Didn’t Ayo receive his award? Yes (he didn’t) or No (he did). (NigE)

(19)

Q: A:

You don’t want this, do you? [Yes (I don’t) or No (I do). (NigE)

In (19) NigE speakers appear to respond to the proposition, rather than the operator in the tag. The proposition itself would appear to carry a different presupposition from StE: that is it is biased towards a negative reading (‘Ayo didn’t receive his award/I don’t want this’) which is confirmed by the yes in the response (or contradicted by the no). 5.

Relativisation

NigE allows resumptive pronouns in non-subject relativisation: (20)

The guests whom I invited them have arrived. (Bokamba 1992: 131–132)

(21)

I know the person who his father has died. (Jowitt 1991: 122)

As Bokamba notes, relative clauses with resumptive pronouns are a typological characteristic of many African languages. It is not surprising that this feature should be reported in L2 English of West Africa, East Africa and southern Africa. Jowitt (1991: 120) notes that in popular NigE (V1 and V2) what is used as a relative pronoun after all: (22)

All what he said was false.

In non-restrictive (or appositional) relatives some speakers use of which rather than which (Jowitt 1991: 122): (23)

It was a very horrible experience, of which I hope it will not happen again.

6.

Complementation

6.1.

Infinitive without to

Bamgbose (1992: 155) cites as a feature of NigE the dropping of to from the infinitive after certain verbs: (24)

…enable him ∅ do it. ‘…enable him to do it.’

Jowitt (1991: 115) observes that this phenomenon also applies to allow. Conversely, make, which doesn’t allow to in StE active sentences, often co-occurs with to in NigE: (25)

Make her to do her work.

Nigerian English: morphology and syntax

6.2.

819

To-infinitives in place of -ing

Jowitt (1991: 115) notes that in lower sociolects to + infinitive may replace -ing in constructions starting with instead of + NP: (26)

Instead of him to travel home for the vacation, he was one of those who travelled to Sokoto for the sports competition. ‘Instead of him travelling home…’

Jowitt supplies an example from a written source, which implies that the construction may well be more widespread than he claims: (27)

He asserted that instead of the press to highlight that, it resorted to capitalising on his arrest. (The Triumph, 1/11/1986)

A related usage avoids the gerund form in -ing after to in construction with be used to, look forward to and object to. Forms like is used to go, looks forward to go and object to go are common in NigE. 6.3.

Comparatives

Bokamba (1992: 133–134) analyses sentences involving the comparison of inequality (StE ‘taller than Mary’), in which the comparative form may be marked singly, either by than or (less commonly) by the comparative form of the adjective. Example (28) is from Chinebuah (1976, cited by Bokamba 1992: 134): (28)

It is the youths who are ∅ skilful in performing tasks than the adults. ‘…more skilful…’

(29)

He has ∅ money than his brother. ‘…more money than…’

7.

Other subordination and co-ordination phenomena

7.1.

Double conjunctions

Jowitt (1991: 123) mentions the double use of although or though in a subordinate clause accompanied by but or yet in the main clause. (30)

Although he is rich but he is stingy.

7.2.

Innovations in the form of conjunctions

In addition to double conjunctions, one per clause, NigE occasionally combines two related conjunctions of StE. Thus should in case is sometimes used in place

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M. A. Alo and Rajend Mesthrie

of should + S or in case + S. Likewise on my way going may replace on my way [to NP] or going [to NP]. (31)

He has been in this school for five years, still yet he is not tired. ‘…still/yet…’

8.

Agreement

Jowitt (1991: 116) observes that inflectional suffixes give trouble to learners, often when their mother-tongues lack inflections. Errors of inflection, he notes, are common among V1 speakers, not uncommon among V2 speakers and stigmatised by V3 speakers. This applies especially to verb endings of tense and agreement, with V1 and V2 speakers using the unmarked verb form in place of past -ed and third person singular present -s. Further aspects of agreement are discussed in section 10.

9.

Noun phrase structure

9.1.

Articles

There is a noticeable tendency towards the omission of articles where StE requires them: (32)

∅1 Depreciating value of the naira and ∅2 increase in ∅3 cost of wheat in the international market have been identified.

Variability in article usage shows up well in (32). Although the sentence does contain two standard definite articles and one correct zero form (of wheat), it contains three non-standard zero forms, with ∅1 = ‘the’, ∅2 = ‘an/the’ and ∅3 = ‘the’ in StE. Sentence (33) shows other types of variability in article usage – the occurrence of unstressed one as an equivalent of indefinite a and occasional substitution of the for a: (33)

Gani is one man who does not tell lies, he calls the spade a spade.

Jowitt (1991: 114) notes a tendency, even among educated speakers, to drop the indefinite article before a singular countable noun functioning as the object of certain high-frequency and semantically full verbs. Thus get ∅ contract, give ∅ chance, have ∅ bath, make ∅ effort, make ∅ mistake, take ∅ bribe, take ∅ excuse, tell ∅ lie, tie ∅ wrapper etc. Whether these are due to analogy to StE expressions like give notice, make mischief etc. or whether the nouns concerned are reclassified as uncountable still needs to be researched.

Nigerian English: morphology and syntax

9.2.

821

Adjectives

Jowitt (1991: 111–112) reports on some novel forms of adjectives and some adjectives involved in class (or category) shift. Certain adjectives denoting nationality of a person are made to function as singular nouns. Thus: (34)

He is a British/English/Irish/French/Dutch/Swiss etc.

Certain adjectives which function as generic nouns in StE (e.g. the poor, the blind) take plural forms in NigE (the poors, the blinds). Jowitt (1991: 118) also notes that the StE distinction between comparative and superlative, like worse – worst, is frequently ignored: (35)

His condition is now getting worst.

The innovations discussed in this section are mostly characteristic of lower sociolects, which also contain neologisms like insultive ‘insulting (adj.)’, as well as class shifts from adjective to verb (e.g. nakedv, pregnantv, jealousv): (36)

He naked himself.

(37)

He pregnanted her.

(38)

She jealoused her elder sister.

Ordinal adjectives beyond third are avoided even by educated speakers, notably when they feature dates. Jowitt (1991: 124) provides the example of on the five for ‘on the fifth’. He suggests that the avoidance may be motivated by phonological considerations notably avoidance of consonant + /
/ clusters. 9.3.

Nouns

Bamgbose (1992: 155) considers one of the four main features of educated NigE morphology and syntax to be the fact that “peculiar word formation may occur with plurals”. He supplies the examples equipments, aircrafts and deadwoods. Jowitt (1991: 112–113) adds further examples from popular NigE of pluralisation of what are non-count nouns in StE: accommodation, advice, behaviour, blame, chalk, cutlery, damage, evidence, furniture, gossip, grass, information, jargon, junk, machinery, money, permission, personnel, stationery, underwear and wire. There is thus a general tendency in NigE to treat mass and abstract nouns as count nouns. As Jowitt (1991: 113) notes, the impulse for this regularisation may come from special contexts or usage within StE that allow these nouns to be pluralised (X + -s) if they denote ‘types of X’. Thus, in StE grasses may be used to mean ‘different types of grass’. Idiomatic differences also account for this regularisation in NigE – e.g. the distinction in StE between damagen (mass noun) and damagesn (in its legal/insurance/business context). Jowitt notes a reversal of this tendency

822

M. A. Alo and Rajend Mesthrie

with the noun fund in NigE not generally admitting a plural form, contrary to StE funds.

10.

Pronouns

10.1.

Reflexives

There is a tendency to use plural pronoun + selves, not just as a plural reflexive, but as reciprocal too, in place of StE ‘each other, one another’: (39)

Adebanjo and Suliat love themselves. ‘…each other’

(40)

After greeting ourselves, Tolu and I started work ‘...each other’

(41)

James and Lanre like quarrelling with themselves. ‘...one another’

A sentence like (42) could be ambiguous even in educated NigE: (42)

The couple bought themselves a nice car.

Either interpretation ‘for themselves’ (reflexive) or ‘for each other’ (reciprocal) is permissible here. 10.2.

Indefinite or honorific they

NigE favours the use of third person indefinite they often with a singular referent, meaning ‘he, she, person(s) unknown’: (43)

They gave me some money.

(44)

They are calling you.

They in (43) refers to a singular, definite referent, uttered by a child in response to his mother’s query about the source of his money. Since they refers to an elder family member, it can be construed as a polite use of the plural for the singular. In (44) a similarly respectful use of they occurs to draw the addressee’s attention to a call by an elderly woman in a market. They also functions as an indefinite pronoun used when the referent is unknown, indefinite or generic (i.e. the specific identity of the individual does not matter). Jowitt (1991: 123) links this usage to the rarity of passives in Nigerian languages and popular NigE: “MTs [mother-tongues] lack inflected passive forms but make use of a third person singular indefinite pronoun in combination with the active forms.”, as in (45):

Nigerian English: morphology and syntax

(45)

823

There was a security light outside my house, but they have stolen it. ‘…but it has been stolen.’

However, the passive is used in educated NigE.

11.

Word order

11.1.

Demonstratives with possessive pronouns

Bokamba (1992: 133) follows Kirk-Greene (1971) in drawing attention to the Bantu rule that when a possessive and demonstrative pronoun occur in the same NP, they follow the noun in the order (Demonstrative + N + Possessive). This rule has an indirect influence on NigE and West African English generally: (46)

I met the teacher our new. ‘...our new teacher.’ (Bokamba 1992: 133)

However, it appears to be just as common to have the order Demonstrative + Possessive + N): (47)

That your brother, will he come? ‘Will your brother come?’

(48)

Saying Amen to those his prayers… ‘saying Amen to prayers/those prayers of his…’ (Kirk-Green 1971:136)

This construction is avoided by some educated speakers. 11.2.

Left dislocation

As in colloquial varieties of English world-wide and especially other “new Englishes”, left dislocation is commonly used in NigE. Bamgbose (1992: 155) characterises it as a focus construction, involving the subject of the sentence as focus, with an anaphoric pronoun subject: (49)

The politicians and their supporters, they don’t often listen to advice.

(50)

A person who has no experience, can he be a good leader?

Bamgbose’s examples, reproduced here as (49) and (50), both involve complex NP subjects – a co-ordinated NP in (49) and NP + Rel in (50). In addition, the construction occurs with simple NPs too, as in (51): (51)

The students they are demonstrating again.

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M. A. Alo and Rajend Mesthrie

12.

Selected salient verb forms

12.1.

HAVE

Jowitt (1991: 125) notes the rarity of causative have constructions as in (52): (52)

I want to have my hair cut.

He argues that this is a result of the similarity of such constructions to perfect tenses and the apparent (to second language learners) risk therefore involved in using them. Jowitt notes the neologism haven for having which may even occur in writing: (53)

Haven waged a serious legal battle against Gomwalk … people felt that Mr Aper Aku will be mindful of whatever policy direction his administration was bound to initiate. (The Triumph, 2/4/1986; Jowitt 1991: 117)

The converse process is more common in lower sociolects, with -ing replacing -en in forms like giving and taking for ‘given’ and ‘taken’. 12.2.

Phrasal and prepositional verbs

These admit of considerable variation from the StE idioms. One set involves the addition of a preposition: cope up for ‘cope’, discuss about for ‘discuss’, voice out for ‘voicev’, advocate for for ‘advocate’. Another set, conversely, involves the absence of a preposition where StE requires one: dispose for ‘dispose of’, operate for ‘operate on’, reply for ‘reply to’. A third set uses a different preposition from that of StE, e.g. congratulate for for ‘congratulate on’. Perhaps this can be related to a general fluidity of preposition use in NigE, where a number of non-standard usages prevail – e.g. at for in in expressions like at my old age or at London (see further Jowitt [1991: 119]). 12.3.

Other salient verb forms

Enjoy and disappoint may be used elliptically as intransitive verbs: (54)

She promised to come, but I don’t really expect to see her – she always likes to disappoint ∅. (Jowitt 1991: 115)

A further kind of ellipsis can be observed with certain reciprocals (see borrow/lend [55]), passives (see drop/be dropped/alight [54]) and causatives (see back/carry on one’s back [57]): (55)

Please borrow me your pen.

Nigerian English: morphology and syntax

(56)

Please, I would like to drop at the next bus stop.

(57)

Ronke backs her baby to work.

825

A final class of verb neologism involves derivation from other parts of speech, especially in lower sociolects. Thus horn ‘to hoot’, jealous ‘make jealous’, naked ‘make naked’. Examples (58)–(60) are taken from Jowitt (1991: 112): (58)

Horn before overtaking.

(59)

She jealoused her elder sister.

(60)

He naked himself.

13.

Reduplication

Under the influence of indigenous languages like Yoruba, NigE makes extensive use of reduplication in generating new lexis or creating a particular nuance or emphasis. The main elements reduplicated are adjectives and adverbs: (61)

He likes to talk about small-small things. ‘…insignificant things.’

(62)

My friend before-before... ‘…former friend…’

(63)

Tell Mr Bello to come now-now. ‘…at once.’

(64)

Labake does her work half-half. ‘…in halves/incompletely.’

14.

Lexis

This is an area of considerable richness in NigE, showing a full indigenisation of English to the Nigerian cultural setting. For reasons of space, only the briefest of expositions is given here. 14.1.

Verbs of bribery and corruption

In the context of bribery and corruption (usually involving politicians, civil servants or the police) certain verbs are used circumspectly. (65)

The man ate our money. ‘…embezzled…’

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M. A. Alo and Rajend Mesthrie

(66)

Chief Lagbaje can deliver. ‘…fix/rig an election…’

(67)

He understands. ‘…is ready to offer a bribe…’

Other verbs used euphemistically in this context are co-operate, enter, talk, settle, perform and play. 14.2.

Other lexical innovations

Semantic extension A number of everyday English terms have a widened meaning in Nigeria. These include a range of kinship terms (e.g. father could refer to one’s male parent or any of his brothers) expressions of sympathy or politeness (e.g. sorry denotes sympathy for someone’s misfortune or discomfort without a sense blame on the part of the speaker) and anatomical terms used in association with the human spirit, life and destiny (e.g. head for ‘one’s essence, destiny, luck’). Borrowings Not surprisingly, a number of words from Igbo, Hausa and Yoruba make an appearance in NigE, either in noun switching or as borrowings, for example akara ‘beancake’, akwete ‘type of cloth’ and bolekajia ‘bus with tightly packed seats’. Idioms, neologisms and semantic shifts A small selection of these items which give NigE its lively flavour is given here: been-to cash madam bottom power chase move with to take in not on seat long leg national cake

15.

‘one who has been abroad on an extended stay’ ‘wealthy woman’ ‘undue influence of females using sex’ ‘to woo’ ‘to associate with’ ‘to be pregnant’ ‘not available in one’s office’ ‘use of undue influence to reach a goal’ ‘the common wealth belonging to all Nigerians’

Conclusion

This chapter has attempted to give an overview of the main lexical and (especially) syntactic features of NigE. It is obvious that further work has to be done in terms of relating the different sub-varieties to each other and in comparing NigE to other West African varieties of English. We do not wish to impose a static view of NigE,

Nigerian English: morphology and syntax

827

which like all varieties of English is subject to growth and change. One change that has become prominent over recent years is the influence of American English, due to American broadcasts (CNN and Voice of America), American music, cinema and contact with American-trained professionals. This influence shows up in many ways, for example in the pronunciation of words like schedule (now pronounced with initial /sk/), in idioms like what’s up, in business terms like Monday through Friday (versus Monday to Friday), in lexical choices and doublets (e.g. nursery and day-care, flashlight and torch) and in verb sub-categorisations like to protest + direct object, rather than to protest against. Nevertheless, Jowitt’s (1991: 109) remark about the overall structure of NigE seems appropriate: “it is important to realize that while (popular NigE) syntactic errors are numerous and often glaring, the gap between NigE syntax and BrE syntax, when each is considered in its entirety, is narrow, not wide.” *

Our debt to previous writers on this topic, especially David Jowitt, is immense.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Bamgbose, Ayo 1992 [1982]

Standard Nigerian English: issues of identification. In: Kachru (ed.), 148–161.

Banjo, Ayo 1971 Towards a definition of standard Nigerian English. In: Actes du 8th Congress de la Societé Linguiste de l’Afrique Occidentale, 165–75. Abidjan: University of Abidjan. 1995 On codifying Nigerian English: research so far. In: Ayo Bamgbose, Ayo Banjo and Andrew Thomas (eds.), New Englishes: A West African Perspective, 203– 231. Ibadan, Nigeria: Mosuro. Bokamba, Eyamba 1992 [1982] The Africanization of English. In: Kachru (ed.), 125–147. Brosnahan, Leonard F. 1958 English in southern Nigeria. English Studies 39: 97–110. Jowitt, David 1991 Nigerian Usage – an Introduction. Ikeja, Lagos: Longman Nigeria. Chinebuah, Isaac K. 1976 Grammatical deviance and first language interference. West African Journal of Modern Languages 1: 67–78. Kirk-Greene, Anthony 1971 The influence of West African languages on English. In: Spencer (ed.), 123– 144.

Nigerian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax Nicholas Faraclas

1.

Introduction

Nigerian Pidgin (NigP) is the dialect of Afro-Caribbean English Lexifier Creole which is spoken in Nigeria as well as in parts of Equatorial Guinea, Cameroon and Ghana. The other major dialects of Afro-Caribbean English Lexifier Creole include Cameroonian Pidgin, Sierra Leonian Krio, Jamaican Creole and the English Lexifier Creoles spoken in the Lesser Antilles, and along the coasts of South and Central America. Afro-Caribbean English Lexifier Creole possibly also includes Liberian English, Ghanaian English, Bahamian Creole, Gullah and African-American Vernacular English. Well over half of the 140 million inhabitants of Nigeria are now fluent speakers of the language, making NigP the most widely spoken language in Nigeria, as well as the indigenous African language with the largest number of speakers. Given the rapid spread of NigP among younger Nigerians, this proportion should increase to over seventy or eighty percent by the time the present generation of children reaches adulthood. There is no Creole language worldwide with nearly as many speakers as NigP. In its basilectal varieties, NigP is still undergoing pidginization, with substrate languages continuing to exert an important influence. In its mesolectal varieties, NigP can be considered to be functionally a creole, given the fact that it is used by a great number of people as their principal means of communication in all of their daily activities. In its acrolectal varieties, NigP is decreolizing under the influence of English. There is a substantial and rapidly growing number of people who speak NigP as their first language or as one of their first languages. The NigP substrate languages at present include the 400 languages of Nigeria, a number of which had developed pidginized varieties for interethnic contact and trade before the colonial period. The features and constructions identified in this chapter as typical of NigP are those found in the speech of mesolectal speakers of the language in Port Harcourt, Rivers State. The database used comes from transcripts of tape recordings of at least one hour of spontaneous speech from each member of a sample group of 30 speakers. Sample group members belonged to a network of friends, family members and associates, who were chosen on the basis of ethnolinguistic background, sex, age, amount of formal education, whether NigP was learned as a first or second language, and the extent to which NigP was used by each speaker in day to day interactions, so that the samples would represent a rough cross section of the

Nigerian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax

829

NigP speaking community in Port Harcourt. A systematic comparison of NigP features with those of its substrate languages was also conducted as part of this study, and the results appear in Faraclas (1990) and (1998). Numerous studies of NigP exist as well as a comprehensive grammar (Faraclas 1996). A detailed list is given in the CD-ROM accompanying the text. The following abbreviations are used in the examples in the text: ANT = Anterior Sequence Auxiliary; +C = Completive Aspect Auxiliary; -C = Incompletive Aspect Auxiliary; COMP = Complementizer; COP = Copular Verb; HL = Highlighter; ID = Identity; LOC = Locative; NEG = Negative; PFUT = Proximal Future Auxiliary; +R = Realis Modality Auxiliary; -R = Irrealis Modality Auxiliary; REL = Relative Pronoun; SBJV = Subjunctive Marker; SRPRO = Subject Referencing Pronoun.

2.

Unmarked verbs

2.1.

Stative verbs with non-past reference

(1)

A sabi yu. I know you ‘I know you.’

In NigP, verbs do not take inflectional affixes to show tense, aspect or modality. As in most NigP substrate languages, stative verbs are assumed to be non-past, unless marked otherwise by an auxiliary, an adverbial or by context. 2.2.

Stative verbs with past reference

(2)

A sabi yu bifo yu kOm wOk fOr Pitakwa. I know you before you come work LOC Port Harcourt ‘I knew you before you came to work in Port Harcourt.’

As in most NigP substrate languages, stative verbs can be interpreted as past tense, if accompanied by the appropriate contextual cues. 2.3.

Non-stative verbs with past reference

(3)

A bay egusi fOr makEt. I get pumpkin seed paste LOC market ‘I bought egusi at the market.’

As in most NigP substrate languages, non-stative verbs are assumed to refer to events which occurred in the past, unless marked otherwise by an auxiliary, an adverbial, or by context.

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2.4.

Non-stative verbs with non-past reference

(4)

A: Dis taym yu chOp wEting? this time you eat what? A: What are you eating now?’ B: Dis taym a chOp lOylOy. this time I eat cassava fufu B: ‘I’m eating cassava fufu.’

As in most NigP substrate languages, non-stative verbs can be non-past for tense if accompanied by the appropriate contextual cues.

3.

Anterior tense/sequentiality

3.1.

Stative verbs with past reference

(5)

A bin sabi yu. I ANT know you ‘I knew you.’

While anterior sequence is usually signalled or inferred by contextual cues, adverbials or by the use of unmarked non-stative verbs, the anterior preverbal auxiliary bin may also be used for this purpose. 3.2.

Non-stative verbs with (past-before-) past reference

(6)

Di taim yu (bin) rich ma ples, a (bin) (dOn) go tawn. the time you (ANT) reach my place I (ANT) (+C) go town ‘When you arrived at my village, I had (already) gone to town.’

As in the case of past tense, the pluperfect is usually signalled or inferred by contextual cues, adverbials, or the use of unmarked non-stative verbs. Again, the anterior auxiliary bin with or without the completive aspect markers dOn and/or finish may be used as well. 3.3.

Anterior = counterfactual

(7)

a.

If a go tawn a go bay gari. If I go town I -R buy gari ‘If I go to town, I will buy gari.’

b.

If a bin go tawn a fOr (dOn) bay gari. If I ANT go town I should (+C) buy gari ‘If I had gone to town, I would have bought gari.’

Nigerian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax

831

As shown in (7a) the conditional is usually expressed by the construction: if + rest of protasis + go + rest of apodosis. For past conditional constructions such as (7b), the anterior auxiliary bin is usually inserted into the if-clause. Additionally, the modal auxiliary fOr ‘should’, optionally followed by the completive aspect marker dOn, is used in the matrix clause. 3.4.

Anterior with an adjectival verb

(8)

(Yestade) di sOn (bin) hot wElwEl. (yesterday) the sun (ANT) hot thoroughly ‘The sun was very hot yesterday.’

The category adjective is a weak one in NigP and most of its substrate languages. Most of what are considered to be adjectives in languages like English are expressed by adjectival verbs in NigP. Adjectival verbs can take the full range of auxiliaries that normally occur with other verbs in the language. As noted above, past tense can be marked or inferred in a number of ways, including: (a) by context (in which case all of the optional elements in 8 could be eliminated), (b) by the use of an adverbial such as yestade, or (c) by the use of the anterior auxiliary bin. 3.5.

Anterior with locative

(9)

Im (bin) de (fOr) haws (yestade). s/he (ANT) COP (LOC) house (yesterday) ‘S/he was at the house yesterday.’

The copula de can be used with a locative or an existential meaning. De can be used with any of the tense/aspect/modality markers that normally occur with NigP verbs. As noted above, past tense can be marked or inferred by context, through the use of an adverbial such as yestade or by using the auxiliary bin.

4.

Incompletive aspect

4.1.

Indicating the incompletive aspect

(10)

a.

A sabi se yu (de) waka. I know that you (-C) walk ‘I know that you are walking.’

Incompletive aspect can be signalled or inferred by contextual cues, adverbials, or by the use of unmarked stative verbs. Other ways to mark the incompletive aspect include the incompletive preverbal auxiliary de (as in the NigP substrates, the incompletive marker is related to the locative/existential copula de). In (10a)

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the verb sabi is stative, and therefore has incompletive aspect unless otherwise marked, while the verb waka is non-stative and is therefore more likely to take the incompletive marker de. 4.2.

Incompletive to indicate the future

(10)

b.

A de kOm. I -C come ‘I am coming.’ or ‘I will come.’

In the isolated case in (10), the incompletive can be used to indicate future meaning. 4.3.

Anterior plus incompletive

(11)

Taym a rich, im (bin) (de) ple. time I reach s/he (ANT) (-C) play ‘When I came, s/he was playing.’

In a clause containing the incompletive marker de, anterior sequentiality can be marked or inferred in a number of ways, including (a) by context, (b) through the use of an adverbial and (c) by using the auxiliary bin. 4.4.

Incompletive with adjectival verb = inchoative

(12)

Im de y
lo. it -C be yellow ‘It is getting yellow.’

The incompletive marker de may be used with some adjectival verbs to indicate the inchoative. 5.

Habitual aspect

5.1.

Zero marker for the habitual aspect

Habitual aspect cannot normally be expressed by zero marking in NigP. 5.2.

Incompletive marker for the habitual aspect

(13)

A de chOp fOr makEt. I -C eat LOC market ‘I (habitually) eat in the market.’

Habitual aspect can be expressed by the incompletive marker de in NigP.

Nigerian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax

5.3.

833

Marker for the habitual aspect only

There is no marker in NigP whose sole function is to signal habitual aspect. 5.4.

Anterior plus habitual

(14)

Di pikin dem (bin) de kray evritaym. the child them (ANT) -C cry often ‘The children used to cry all the time.’

In a clause containing the incompletive auxiliary de, anterior sequentiality can be marked or inferred in a number of ways, including (a) by context, (b) through the use of an adverbial or (c) by using the auxiliary bin. When used as a habitual auxiliary, de can also be used in the same clause with the irrealis marker go. Habitual de is not normally found in the same verb phrase with any of the other auxiliaries.

6.

Completive aspect

6.1.

Completive only before verb

(15)

A don sabi finish se yu kOm. I +C know +C say you come ‘I already know/knew that you came.’

Completive aspect can be signalled or inferred by contextual cues, adverbials, or by the use of unmarked non-stative verbs. The completive aspect may also be marked by the auxiliary dOn which precedes the verb and/or by the postverbal auxiliary finish, which is related to the verb finish ‘to finish’ (as in most NigP substrate languages). In (15) the verb kOm is non-stative, and therefore completive unless otherwise marked, while the verb sabi is non-stative and is therefore more likely to take the completive markers dOn and/or finish. 6.2.

Completive with adjectival verb

(16)

a.

Im dOn y
lo finish. it +C be yellow +C ‘It is completely yellow.’

(16)

b.

A dOn taya finish. I +C be tired +C ‘I’m completely exhausted.’

Either one or both of the completive markers dOn and finish may be used with adjectival verbs to indicate achieved as opposed to inceptive states. Finish can also

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be used to emphasise the high degree to which the state of affairs expressed by the verb has been accomplished. 6.3.

Anterior (or other verbal markers) plus completive

(17)

a.

Anterior plus completive (dOn and/or finish possible here) Bifo im kOm rich, a bin dOn chOp finish. Before s/he +R reach I ANT COMP eat +C ‘Before s/he arrived, I had already eaten.’

b.

Irrealis plus completive (dOn and/or finish possible here) Di taym we yu go rich, a go dOn chOp finish. the time that you -R reach I -R +C eat +C ‘When you arrive, I will have already eaten.’

c.

Realis (narrative) plus completive (finish only possible here) Im kOm rich finish. s/he +R arrive +C ‘(It came to pass that) s/he arrived.’

7.

Irrealis mode

7.1.

Future

(18)

a.

A go waka. I -R walk ‘I will walk.’

b.

A wan waka. I PFUT walk ‘I am about to walk.’

Verbs are assumed to be realis, unless otherwise marked. In narratives, the truth value of a statement can be emphasised by using the preverbal realis auxiliary kOm, which is related to the verb kOm ‘to come’ (see [17c] above). Irrealis modality is sometimes signalled or inferred by contextual cues and/or adverbials, but in most cases irrealis is marked by the use of the preverbal irrealis marker go (see [17b] above) or the preverbal proximal future auxiliary wan (which is related to the verb wan ‘to want/desire’, see [18b] above). As in most of the NigP substrate languages, the irrealis marker is normally used to mark the future tense.

Nigerian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax

7.2.

Anterior plus irrealis = conditional

(19)

A (bin) wan rich, bOt di rot dOn spoil. I (ANT) PFUT reach but the road +C be spoiled ‘I would have made it, but the road was no good.’

835

In a clause containing the irrealis marker go or the proximal future auxiliary wan, anterior/past tense can be marked or inferred by context or through the use of an adverbial. The meaning conveyed by such sentences has a conditional flavour, to the extent that it expresses an event that almost occurred. While the anterior/past auxiliary bin may occur in the same clause with the proximal future auxiliary wan, it does not normally occur with the irrealis marker go. 7.3.

Anterior plus irrealis = future in the past

Combinations of bin and wan discussed in section 7.2. above could be considered to convey future in the past meanings as well as conditional meanings. 7.4.

Anterior plus irrealis = past in the future (future perfect)

Constructions containing the irrealis marker go and the completive auxiliary finish are utilised to express the future perfect in NigP (see [17b] above).

8.

Other combinations of verbal markers

8.1.

Irrealis plus incompletive

(20)

A go de wet. I -R -C wait ‘I will be waiting.’

8.2.

Proximal future plus irrealis plus incompletive

(21)

A go de wan wOk, bot a no go fit. I -R -C PFUT work but I NEG -R be fit ‘I will be about to work, but I won’t be able to.’

8.3.

Other auxiliary-like elements

Preverbal modality markers include fit ‘be able, be fit’, wan ‘desire, wish’, mOs ‘must’, fOr ‘should’ and trai ‘try’.

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9.

Complementizers

9.1.

No infinitive marker

(22)

A go (fOr) baf. I go (COMP) bathe ‘I went to bathe.’

In some constructions and with some verbs, complementizers are optional. 9.2.

FOr (general adposition) as infinitive marker

(23)

A de redi fOr go. I -C ready LOC go ‘I am ready to go.’

(24)

a.

Im go (fOr) baf, bOt im no fit. s/he go (LOC) bathe but s/he NEG be able ‘She went to bathe but she wasn’t able to.’

b.

Im go (fOr) baf, and im kOm riton. s/he go (LOC) bathe and s/he +R return ‘He went to bathe and she came back (from washing).’

The general adposition fOr in NigP, which is found in a number of Atlantic and Pacific pidgins and creoles, is commonly used as a complementizer (see 20.1 below). The use of fOr and other complementizers in NigP does not depend on whether the events referred to by the verbs in the clauses that they introduce are actually completed or not. 9.3.

FOr as a quasi-modal

FOr can have a modal or quasi-modal function in NigP (see section 3.3. above): (25) DEm fOr fray di planten. They should fry the plantain ‘They should fry/should have fried the plantain.’ 9.4.

FOr introducing a tensed clause

FOr is not normally used to introduce an overtly tensed clause in NigP. 9.5.

Subordinator from superstrate that

There is no subordinator in NigP that can be readily recognised as being derived from that in its lexifier language English.

Nigerian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax

9.6.

Distinct subordinator after verbs of speaking/thinking

(26)

DEm tel mi (se) dEm no si yu. they tell me COMP they NEG see yu ‘They told me that they didn’t see you.’

837

The complementizer se, which is derived from the verb se ‘to say’ is utilized rather than other subordinators such as wE after verbs of communication and cognition. The use of se is often optional. 9.7.

No subordinator

(27)

A tink (se) im redi fOr I think (COMP) s/he be ready COMP ‘I think that she is ready to come.’

kOm. come

As noted in sections 9.1. and 9.6. above, subordinate constructions with no overtly marked subordinator are very common in NigP.

10.

Dependent clauses

10.1.

Subordinate clauses (non-embedded)

(28)

a.

If yu rich makEt, mek yu bay kokonyam. If you reach market SBJV you buy Singapore taro ‘If you go to the market, buy Singapore taro.’

b.

Mek yu bay kokonyam if yu rich makEt. SBJV you buy Singapore taro if you reach market ‘If you go to the market, buy Singapore taro.’

A non-embedded subordinate clause introduced by an adverbial like (di) taym ‘when’ or if ‘if’ may either precede or follow its main clause. 10.2.

Subordinate clauses (embedded)

(29)

A hapi se yu fit kOm. I be happy COMP you be able come ‘I’m happy that you were able to come.’

Subordinate clauses introduced by se can function as objects of adjectival verbs and as objects of verbs of communication and cognition (see section 9.6. above).

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10.3.

Relative clauses (relative pronoun = subject)

(30)

Di pikin wE (i) sik (im) go haws. woman DEM REL (SRPRO) be ill s/he go house ‘The child who has a cold went home.’

The relative pronoun wE may serve as the subject of a subordinate clause, in which case it may be optionally followed by the subject referencing pronoun that corresponds to the subject of the main clause. If wE is deleted, the subject referencing pronoun must be included. 10.4.

Relative clauses (relative pronoun = direct object)

(31)

Di pikin (wE) yu bin bit(-am) (im) dOn go haws. the child (REL) you ANT beat(-him/her) (s/he) +C go house ‘The child whom you beat went home.’

The relative pronoun wE may refer to the object of a subordinate clause. In such cases, an anaphoric object pronoun optionally follows the verb in the relative clause and the use of wE is optional. 10.5.

Relative clauses (relative pronoun = object of an adposition)

(32)

Di moto (wE) injin no de for-am de for yad. the vehicle (REL) engine NEG LOCCOP LOC-it COP LOC yard ‘The vehicle which has no engine in it is in the yard.’

The relative pronoun wE may refer to the adpositional object of a subordinate clause. In such cases, an anaphoric object pronoun must follow the adposition in the relative clause and the use of wE is optional. 10.6.

Relative clauses (no relative pronoun)

As shown in sections 10.3., 10.4., and 10.5. above, the inclusion of relative markers in relative clauses is optional, except in relative clauses where the relative marker has the subject role and no other subject marker is present. In relative clauses whose adpositional objects are coreferent to main clause nouns, object pronouns obligatorily follow the adposition.

Nigerian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax

11.

Negation

11.1.

Single negation (verbal)

(33)

A: Yu no go maket? you NEG go market? A: ‘Didn’t you go to the market?’

839

B: YEs. A bin wan go, bOt a nEva rich. no I ANT want go but I NEG reach B: ‘No. I wanted to go, but I couldn’t.’ The verbal negative marker no occurs before the verb, following the subject, the subject referencing pronoun and preceding all preverbal tense aspect modality markers, except the completive auxiliary dOn, with which it combines to form the completive negative marker nEva. Other constituents are also negated by the marker no. Responses to negative questions are logical, as in the NigP substrate languages. Note that discontinuous double negation constructions do not exist in NigP. Furthermore, there is no evidence for negative concord in NigP.

12.

Passive

12.1.

Passive construction

There is no passive construction in NigP. There are, however, a few idiomatic constructions using the role reversal verbs kach ‘catch’ and du ‘do’ that convey meanings similar to the passive in English: (34)

HOngri kach mi. or HOngri du mi. hunger catch me hunger do me ‘I’m famished.’

12.2.

Passive equivalents

(35)

ChOp dOn finish. food +C finish ‘The food is finished.’

(36)

D
m kOm kOl yO nem. they +R call your name ‘Your name has been called.’

Constructions that approximate the semantics of agentless passives include the passive use of verbs such as finish ‘finish’ and the generic use of the third person plural pronoun d
m.

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13.

Adjectives = verbs

13.1.

Tense/aspect/modality markers with adjectival verbs

(37)

A go hot di wota sote im go dOn hOt finish. I -R be hot the water until it -R +C hot +C ‘I will heat up the water until it is completely hot.’

As in the NigP substrate languages, adjectival verbs normally occur with any tense/aspect/modality marker. In some cases, adjectival verbs can take objects as well. Adjectival verbs can be used as nouns without any additional marking. See also sections 3.4. (anterior), 4.4. (progressive), 6.3. (completive) and 14.3. 13.2.

Tense/aspect/modality markers with nouns

(38)

A nEva sabi se im dOn kOm ticha finish. I NEG+C know that s/he +C +R teacher +C ‘I never knew that you were already a teacher.’

In some constructions, nouns may occur with a number of tense/aspect/modality markers. See also section 14.1. 13.3.

Tense/aspect/modality markers with locatives

(39)

a.

A go de (fOr) haws. I -R COP (LOC) house ‘I will be at home.’

b.

Moni go de mi fOr hand. money -R COP me LOC house ‘I will have money.’

The locative copula de can occur with most tense/aspect/modality markers. In some cases the locative copula can take objects as well. See also 3.5. 13.4.

Predicate clefting (adjectives or adjectival verbs)

(40)

Na taya (wE) a dOn taya. HL be tired (REL) I +C be tired ‘It’s tiredness that tires me.’

The highlighter na obligatorily precedes a fronted constituent in a cleft construction, while relative markers follow optionally.

Nigerian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax

13.5.

Predicate clefting (other verbs)

(41)

Na chOp (wE) a dOn chOp. HL eat (REL) I +C eat ‘It’s eating that I ate.’

841

The highlighter na obligatorily precedes a fronted constituent in a cleft construction, while relative markers follow optionally. 13.6.

Comparison with ‘pass’

(42)

a.

Ma haws fayn pas. or A waka pas. My house be fine pass I walk pass ‘My house is better/best.’ or ‘I walked more/most.’

b.

Ma haws fayn pas yO on. or A waka pas yu. My house be fine pass your own I walk pass you ‘My house is better than yours.’ or ‘I walked more than you.’

c.

Ma haws fayn pas ol. or A waka pas ol. My house be fine pass all I walk pass all ‘My house is the best.’ or ‘I walked most.’

Comparative and superlative constructions usually include the verb pas ‘surpass’ in a serialized verb construction (see section 15.5.). Without an object, pas conveys either a comparative or superlative meaning. With the object ol ‘all,’ pas expresses the superlative, while it signifies the comparative with any other object. 13.7.

Comparison as in the superstrate

(43)

a.

Na bEta nyam bi dat. HL better yam COP that ‘That’s better (high quality) yam.’

(43)

b.

Im go yElo moa. S/he -R be pale more ‘S/he will get even more pale.’

While no superstrate-like comparative construction exists in NigP, some items from superstrate comparative constructions such as bEta ‘better’ and moa ‘more’ are occasionally used in related constructions.

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14.

Copula

14.1.

Equative copula (before NP)

(44)

Uche bi ticha. or Uche na ticha. Uche COP teacher Uche HL teacher ‘Uche is a teacher.’

Either the identity copula bi or the highlighter na may be used in equative constructions. In a restricted set of equative constructions, tense/aspect/modality markers can be used with nouns without a copular verb (see section 13.2. above). 14.2.

Locative copula (before expressions of place)

(45)

A: Uche de wE? Uche COP where ‘Where is Uche?’ B: Uche de (fOr) haws. Uche COP (LOC) house ‘Uche is at home.’

The locative copula de can be used with a locative or an existential meaning (see section 14.3. below). De can be used with any of the tense/aspect/modality markers that normally occur with NigP verbs (see section 3.5. above). In some cases, de can take an object (see section 13.3. above). 14.3.

Copula before ‘adjectives’ (see section 12.1.)

(46)

a.

A: Haw yu de? how you COP ‘How are you?’

b.

B: A hapi. or I be happy ‘I am happy.’

c.

C: A de layk a no de. I COP like I NEG COP ‘I exist as if I weren’t existing.’ or ‘I am on the edge of existence.’

A de hapi. I COP happiness

As in most NigP substrate languages, adjectives usually function as verbs and therefore are not normally preceded by copulas. Nominalized adjectival verbs may, however, be found in zero equative copular constructions (see example [46b] above).

Nigerian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax

14.4.

Highlighter with question words

(47)

Na hu tek solt kOm spoil di styu? HL who take salt +R spoil the stew ‘Who is it who put too much salt in the stew?’

843

The highlighter na may sometimes be used before question words. See also sections 13.4. and 14.5. 14.5.

Highlighter with other structures

(48)

Na Halima dEm mek-am, no bi mi o. HL Halima they do-it NEG IDCOP me +R ‘It was Halima and her people who did it, it wasn’t me.’

The highlighter na can be used to introduce a wide range of fronted topicalized constituents. See also sections 13.4. and 13.5. 14.6.

Existential (‘have’ = ‘there is’)

(49)

I gEt tu moto fOr rod. SRPRO have two vehicle LOC road ‘There are two vehicles on the road.’

In the affirmative, the verb gEt ‘have’ is normally preceded by a dummy subject to express existential ‘there is.’ In the negative, the use of the dummy subject with gEt is optional.

15.

Serial verbs

15.1.

Directional with ‘go’

(50)

Kari buk go. take book go ‘Take the book away.’

As in most NigP substrate languages, go ‘go’ is commonly used in serialized verb constructions to indicate motion away from the speaker. 15.2.

Directional with ‘come’

(51)

Kari buk kOm. take book come ‘Bring the book.’

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As in most NigP substrate languages, kOm ‘come’ is commonly used in serialized verb constructions to indicate motion toward the speaker. 15.3.

Serial ‘give’ meaning ‘to, for’

(52)

Kari buk giv mi. take book give me ‘Give the book to me.’

As in many NigP substrate languages, giv ‘give’ can be used in serialized verb constructions to introduce indirect objects. 15.4.

Serial ‘say’ meaning ‘that’

As in many NigP substrate languages, se ‘say’ can be used in a serialized verb construction as a complementizer after verbs of communication or cognition (see sections 9.6. and 10.2. above). 15.5.

Serial ‘pass’ meaning ‘more than’

As shown in 13.6 above, the verb pas ‘to surpass’ is used in serialized verb constructions to express the comparative in NigP. 15.6.

Three serial-verb construction

(53)

Kari buk kOm giv mi. take book come give me ‘Bring the book to me.’

As in most NigP substrate languages, serialized verb constructions containing three verbs are not uncommon in NigP. 15.7.

Four or more serial-verb construction

(54)

Im bay nyam kari-am go rich haws kuk-am chOp. s/he buy yam take-it go reach house cook-it eat ‘She bought yams and took them home and cooked and ate them.’

Four or more verbs may occur in the same serial verb construction in NigP.

Nigerian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax

16.

Noun phrases

16.1.

Bare nouns

(55)

Im kari buk kOm. S/he take book come ‘S/he brought a/the book.’

845

Bare nouns are normally interpreted as definite or indefinite by the context, without the use of articles. 16.2.

Indefinite article

(56)

a.

WOn man de slip. one man -C sleep ‘A man is sleeping.’

b.

SOm man de slip. some man -C sleep ‘Some men are sleeping.’

WOn ‘one’ marks indefinite nouns in the singular (as in most NigP substrate languages), while sOm ‘some’ marks indefinite nouns in the plural. 16.3.

Definite article

(57)

Di man de slip. the man -C sleep ‘The man is sleeping.’

The definite article di ‘the’ is used to mark the definiteness of nouns. 16.4.

Plural marker = ‘they’

(58)

Di man dEm de slip. the man they -C sleep ‘The men are sleeping.’

As in most NigP substrate languages, d
m ‘they’ is used both as the third person plural pronoun and as the plural marker for nouns, in which case it follows the noun that it modifies.

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16.5.

Personal noun plus plural marker

(59)

Shehu dEm de slip. Shehu they -C sleep ‘Shehu and his people are sleeping.’

As in most NigP substrate languages, dEm, which is both the third person plural pronoun and the plural marker for nouns, may follow a personal noun to refer to people associated with the person whose name is mentioned. 16.6.

Demonstratives

(60)

a.

Dis man de slip. this man -C sleep ‘This man is sleeping.’

b.

Dat man de slip. that man -C sleep ‘That man is sleeping.’

In NigP, the proximal demonstrative is dis ‘this,’ while the distal demonstrative is dat ‘that.’ 16.7.

Demonstrative plus definite or plural

(61)

a.

Dis man dEm de slip. this man they -C sleep ‘These men are sleeping.’

b.

Dat man dEm de slip. that man they -C sleep ‘Those men are sleeping.’

The plural marker dEm may be used with the demonstratives dis ‘this’ or dat ‘that’ to express the plural ‘these’ and ‘those’ respectively. Demonstratives cannot be used with the definite article di. 16.8.

Relative clauses plus definite or plural marker

(62)

Di man (dEm) (wE) (dEm) de slip (dEm) nEva chOp. the man (they) (REL) (they) -C sleep (they) NEG+C eat ‘The men who are sleeping have not eaten.’

Neither the definite article nor the demonstratives have a relativizing function in NigP. No conclusive arguments have as yet been put forward as to whether dEm

Nigerian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax

847

functions as a plural marker or as a pronoun when it is found at the head of a relative clause. 16.9.

Prenominal adjective

(63)

Di yElo wE di yElo man de yElo go yElo moa. The palor REL the pallid man -C be pale -R be pale more ‘The paleness that the pallid man is pale by will be even more pale.’ or ‘The pallid man will be getting a lot paler.’

As explained in section 13.1. above, adjectival verbs can be used as nouns without any additional marking. Nominalised adjectival verbs are placed before nouns in a possessive construction (see section 17.1. below) when they are used as prenominal ‘adjectives’. 16.10. Postnominal adjective (64)

Adeola sik. s/he be sick ‘Adeola is sick.’

Adjectival verbs normally occur after the subject to which they refer. 16.11. Gender agreement As in most of its substrates and superstrates, there is no gender agreement within noun phrases in NigP.

17.

Possession

17.1.

Unmarked noun plus noun constructions

(65)

di pikin plet the child plate ‘the child’s plate’

When nouns are juxtaposed without any overt markers indicating the relationship between them, the usual order in NigP is modifier noun + head noun: Nayjirya wuman ‘a Nigerian woman.’ The same pattern applies to unmarked possessives in NigP as well, where the noun which refers to the possessor precedes the noun that refers to the possessed entity: possessor + possessed.

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17.2.

Noun plus noun constructions containing adpositions

(66)

nayf fOr Chinyere knife LOC Chinyere ‘Chinyere’s knife’

A marginal noun + noun construction containing the adposition fOr exists in some lects of NigP. In this construction, the usual order is head noun + fOr + modifier noun tebol fOr rayt ‘writing table’ or possessed + fOr + possessor. 17.3.

Noun plus noun constructions containing possessive adjectives

As shown in 17.4. below, possessive adjectives are normally placed between two nouns in NigP possessive constructions, yielding the following structure: possessor + possessive adjective + possessed entity. 17.4.

Possessive adjectives

(67)

a.

Chinyere im nayf Chinyere her knife ‘Chinyere’s knife’

Possessive adjectives precede the nouns that they modify. The possessive adjectives in NigP include the following: b.

ma ‘my’ yO ‘your (singular)’ im ‘his/her/its’ awa ‘our’ una ‘your (plural)’ dEm ‘their’

17.5.

Possessive pronouns

(68)

Ma on fayn pas yO on. My own be fine pass your own ‘Mine is better than yours.’

Possessive pronouns are formed by using the particle on ‘own’ after a possessive adjective (see section 13.6. above).

Nigerian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax

17.6.

Possessive pronouns as emphatic possessive adjectives

(69)

Ma on haws fayn pas yO on. My own house be fine pass your own ‘My (emphasis on my) house is better than yours.’

849

In some lects of NigP possessive pronouns may be used as emphatic possessive adjectives.

18.

Pronouns

18.1.

Personal pronouns: first person singular

(70)

mi (high tone) a (low tone) mi

‘I (emphatic)’ ‘I (SRPRO)’ ‘me’

The emphatic first person singular subject pronoun mi carries a high tone, while the subject referencing first person singular subject pronoun a carries a low tone. The first person singular object pronoun is mi. See also sections 17.4. and 17.5. above. 18.2.

Personal pronouns: second person singular

(71)

yu (high tone) yu (low tone) yu

‘you (singular, subject, emphatic)’ ‘you (singular, subject, SRPRO)’ ‘you (singular, object)’

The emphatic second person singular subject pronoun yu carries a high tone, while the subject referencing second person singular subject pronoun yu carries a low tone. The second person singular object pronoun is yu. 18.3.

Personal pronouns: third person singular

(72)

im (high tone) im~i (low tone) -am

‘he/she/it (emphatic)’ ‘he/she/it (SRPRO)’ ‘him/her/it (object)’

The emphatic third person singular subject pronoun im carries a high tone, while the subject referencing third person singular subject pronoun im (which may be shortened to i) carries a low tone. The third person singular object pronoun is the clitic -am.

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Nicholas Faraclas

18.4.

Personal pronouns: first person nonsingular

(73)

wi (high tone) wi (low tone) Os

‘we (emphatic)’ ‘we (SRPRO)’ ‘us’

The emphatic first person plural subject pronoun wi carries a high tone, while the subject referencing first person plural subject pronoun wi carries a low tone. The first person plural object pronoun is Os. 18.5.

Personal pronouns: second person nonsingular

(74)

una (low-low tone) ‘you (plural, subject, emphatic)’ una (low-low tone) ‘you (plural, subject, SRPRO)’ una ‘you (plural, object)’

Both the emphatic second person plural subject pronoun una and the subject referencing second person plural subject pronoun una carry a low-low tone sequence. The second person plural object pronoun is una as well. 18.6.

Personal pronouns: third person nonsingular

(75)

dEm (high tone) dEm (low tone) dEm

‘they (emphatic)’ ‘they (SRPRO)’ ‘them’

The emphatic third person plural subject pronoun dEm carries a high tone, while the subject referencing third person plural subject pronoun dEm carries a low tone. The third person plural object pronoun is dEm as well. 18.7.

Reflexive pronouns

(76)

a.

A si ma sEf for glas. I see my self LOC glass ‘I saw myself in the mirror.’

b.

A si (ma) bOdi for glas. I see (my) body LOC glass ‘I saw myself in the mirror.’

Reflexive pronouns are formed by using the words sEf ‘self’ or bOdi ‘body’ after a possessive adjective. BOdi may be used as a reflexive pronoun alone without the possessive adjective as well.

Nigerian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax

18.8.

851

Interrogative pronouns and other question words (see also section 14.4. above) wating, wEting hu, huspEsin haw mOch, haw mEni haw, wichwe way, wEting mek wE, wEples wichtaim, hustaim abi, no bi so

‘what, which’ ‘who, whom’ ‘how much, how many’ ‘how’ ‘why’ ‘where’ ‘when’ ‘yes-no question tag’

18.9.

Relative pronouns (see also section 10.3. above)

(77)

wE ‘what, which’

19.

Coordinating conjunctions

19.1.

Clause coordination

(78)

A go go makEt and yu go go haws. I -R go market and you -R go house ‘I’ll go to the market and you’ll go home.’

The conjunctions and ‘and’, O 'or' and bOt ‘but’ are used to join full sentences. 19.2.

Constituent coordination

(79)

Mi and yu go go makEt. me and you -R go market ‘I and you will go to the market.’

And ‘and’ and O 'or' may be used to join a wide variety of constituents.

20.

Adpositions

20.1. General locative preposition (80)

A kOm fOr haws witi yu and Okon. I come LOC house with you and Okon ‘I came home with you and Okon.’

Following a pattern typical of both the NigP substrates and the Atlantic creoles, fOr ‘at, in on, to, etc.’ is the general adposition in NigP. FOr may be followed by loca-

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tional nouns to further specify its function, fOr insayd ‘inside of’, or it may be used as a subordinator or as a modal (see sections 9.2. and 9.3. above). A few other secondary prepositions occur in NigP, including Of ‘of,’ wit(i) ‘with’ and sote ‘until.’ 20.2. Zero preposition between motion verb and destination (81)

A go maket witi yu and Okon. I go market with you and Okon ‘I went to market with you and Okon.’

It is not always necessary to include fOr before the destination of a verb of motion.

21.

Miscellaneous

21.1. Word order: questions (82)

Yu chop wEting? or (Na) wEting yu chop? you eat what? (HL) what? you eat ‘What did you eat?’

In questions, interrogative words (see section 18.8. above) normally occupy the position of the constituent they question. There is no special inversion process or other obligatory word order modification in interrogative constructions. All interrogative words, however, may be fronted, in which case the highlighter na (see section 14.4. above) may be used with all except the yes-no question tags abi and no bi so, which may occur either immediately before or after the constituent or construction that they question. 21.2. Sentence-final o (83)

A nEva ring yu o. Sori o. I NEG+C ring you +R sorry +R ‘I didn’t get a chance to call you. Sorry.’

As in most of its substrate languages, the sentence-final realis modality particle o is used with a range of meanings in NigP, from solidarity and empathy to stressing the realis (truth value) of the entire proposition. 21.3. Ideophones (84)

A go slap yu zaway! I -R slap you ideophone ‘I’m going to slap you so that it really hurts!’

Nigerian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax

853

As in most of its substrate languages, an open and productive class of onomatopoetic words called ideophones may be used at the end of NigP utterances (and sometimes elsewhere in a sentence) to punctuate or dramatize the event expressed by a verb.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Faraclas, Nicholas 1988 Nigerian Pidgin and the languages of southern Nigeria. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 3: 77–97. 1990 From Old Guinea to Papua New Guinea: a comparative study of Nigerian Pidgin and Tok Pisin. In: John Verhaar (ed.), Melanesian Pidgin and Tok Pisin, 91–169. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. 1996 Nigerian Pidgin. London: Routledge.

Ghanaian English: morphology and syntax Magnus Huber and Kari Dako

1.

Introduction

As in the field of phonology, the morphological and syntactical differences between Ghanaian English (GhE) and British English (BrE) are variable rather than categorical. They are more strongly present in spoken varieties than in the written mode and also depend on the degree of formality, with conversational GhE showing more Ghanaianisms than more formal styles. Tingley (1981) investigated the English of Ghanaian newspapers in the period between 1976 and 1977 and found significant deviances (Tingley 1981: 40) in the domain of (a) articles (omission, insertion and diverging use), (b) prepositions (omission, insertion and substitution), (c) phrasal verbs (omission, insertion, substitution), (d) mass nouns (used as count nouns), (e) concord (verbs, nouns, personal pronouns), (f) modal auxiliaries (use of past tense forms where BrE has present tense forms, substitution), (g) infinite verb forms (infinitive for -ing form and vice versa), (h) intransitive uses of transitive verbs, (i) omission of the coordinator and, (j) change in the sequence of premodifiers, and (k) adjective forms used adverbially. In spite of this variety of differences, the overall syntax of GhE is rather close to BrE and intelligibility for the native speaker is generally maintained. Note also that many of these characteristics are not specific to GhE but can be found in many English as a Second Language (L2) varieties of English around the world.

2.

Verb phrase

In the domain of phrasal verbs three basic patterns of substitution, insertion and omission of the particle can be observed. Particle substitution is illustrated in (1)– (3): (1)

Put off the gas before you leave.

(2)

The audience is invited to cheer their favourite team up.

(3)

He was charged for stealing a goat.

A sentence like (3) may even be used by senior judges and professors of law. In some verbs a particle is inserted, as in (4) and (5): (4)

They requested for higher pay.

Ghanaian English: morphology and syntax

(5)

855

We were encouraged to voice out our opinion.

In other cases the particle is omitted, as in (6): (6)

The man they arrested answers ∅ the description of the armed robber.

The intransitive use of some transitive verbs and the transitive use of intransitive verbs is relatively common. The verb reply, for instance, is consistently used in the same structure as answer, that is, as a transitive verb, as in example (7) taken from a newspaper: (7)

The counsel … will today reply an argument … by the Acting AttorneyGeneral.

On the other hand, afford is often used intransitively: (8)

Few people go to hospitals at all. They cannot just afford.

Award is often used for reward or award with/reward for: (9)

So this man was awarded. But nobody in the whole town liked him.

Stative verbs are often used progressively, as in (10)–(12): (10)

She is having a child with a certain man from Ho.

(11)

I am having a book.

(12)

The rural areas are not having access to higher education.

The to-infinitive and the -ing form are often used interchangeably, as in (13) and (14): (13)

He considered to leave before sunrise.

(14)

The government wishes eradicating poverty.

2.1.

Tense-aspect-modality

There is a certain tendency to substitute the past perfect for the present perfect and to use the present perfect with reference to a completed action. Examples are given in (15) and (16): (15)

The Government will have to take sterner measures than it had hitherto done.

(16)

It has been established hundreds of years ago.

Especially in spoken GhE, be coming to and be going to are used interchangeably to encode (proximate) future or ingressiveness:

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(17)

I am coming to cook your meal. ‘I am about to cook your meal’.

This appears to be a calque on the equivalent Akan structure: in the Twi dialect, for example, ingressive constructions are formed with the prefixes be- or ko-, derived from the verbs meaning ‘come’ and ‘go’ as in (18): (18)

o- ko-/befá n’ adé. he- go-/come- take this thing ‘He is about to take his property’.

There is also a proximate ingressive in Twi, where these prefixes combine with the progressive marker re- as in (19): (19)

o-reko-/befá n’ adé. he-PROG- go-/come- take this thing ‘He is (just) about to take his property’.

At times, never expresses negative completive aspect: (20)

I never knew you were in town. ‘I didn’t know you were in town’.

2.2.

Auxiliaries

Would commonly expresses definite future, as in (21). A similar trend, albeit on a lesser scale, can be observed in could for can, as in (22): (21)

We hereby wish to inform you that the meeting would take place on Thursday.

(22)

We are hoping that he could finish it by tomorrow.

A much lower rate of the politer modal forms than in BrE can be observed. Polite requests such as could I/you, might I, would it be possible and others are relatively rare. What is viewed as a polite request in Ghana is often what a native speaker of Standard British English (StBrE) would consider an order with the addition of please. (23), addressed to a lecturer in his office, illustrates this use: (23)

I want to borrow your book, please.

Tagging is relatively rare in GhE. If it is used at all, it tends to be added in the invariant form isn’t it? as in (24) and (25): (24)

He lives in Kumasi, isn’t it?

(25)

Kwadwo left early for work, isn’t it?

Ghanaian English: morphology and syntax

2.3.

857

Negation

A constant source of confusion for the overseas visitor is the fact that Ghanaians (like other West Africans) answer to the form, not the contents of yes-no questions. This can create serious misunderstandings as far as negative questions are concerned: (26)

Q: A:

Isn’t your mother at home? Yes. ‘(What you say is true,) she is not at home’; or She is there. ‘She is at home’

Tagging is hardly used in responses: (27)

Q: A:

You didn’t find the book, did you? Yes. ‘I didn’t’. (Yes, I did is rare); or I found it. ‘I did’

The distribution of the indefinite pronouns some/none/any and their compounds is sometimes different from that in BrE, in that they appear to be in free variation. Compare (28) and (29) taken from the recording accompanying this text: (28)

He is not supposed to mention nobody’s name.

(29)

You are not supposed to mention somebody’s name.

In negative sentences, the indefinite adverb either is at times replaced by too, as in (30): (30)

You didn’t have enough rest too.

Please collocates with no or not to indicate polite negative sentences and denials: (31)

Q: A:

Have you seen my red pen? Please, no.

(32)

Please, I cannot come to class tomorrow.

Please is a general politeness marker, also used in sentences with positive polarity: (33)

Q: A:

Did you drop Seedu in Madina? Yes, please.

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3.

Relativization and complementation

Relative clause formation closely follows StBrE, both in the choice of the relativizer (who, which, that) and the syntax of the subordinated clause (post-nominal, no inversion of word order). However, particularly in conversational varieties of GhE, there is a tendency for the underlying nominal of the relative clause to surface as a resumptive pronoun, especially in non-subject positions, as in (34) and (35): (34)

The book that I read it.

(35)

The old woman who I gave her the money.

For a discussion of the complementizer that see section 2.3. on suprasegmentals in the companion chapter on GhE phonology (other volume).

4.

Adverbial subordination

Especially in the more informal range of conversational GhE, some adverbial subordinators show slight difference in usage. For example, if tends to be replaced by suppose(ing): (36)

Suppose I put the wire this way it won’t be a problem.

There is a preference for relating events in the order that they actually occurred. The resulting iconic syntax requires subordinators that are different from the ones used in StBrE, as illustrated by (37): (37)

The man came there, before one of the Muslims went there.

StBrE would have something like (38): (38)

One of the Muslims went there after the man had come.

The tendency towards syntactic iconicity also results in constructions like the one in (39): (39)

Unless you speak loud before he can understand. ‘He can (only) hear you if you speak loud’.

Probably on the basis of such uses, unless frequently signals a state or an action that is perceived to precede another either temporally or logically, as in (40): (40)

A: I want some tea B: Unless I boil some water first. ‘Let me boil some water for you’.

Ghanaian English: morphology and syntax

5.

859

Agreement

With a few minor exceptions, Ghanaian languages do not morphologically encode gender. Therefore the pronominal distinctions present in BrE sometimes break down in GhE, even among the most highly educated users as in (41) and (42): (41)

He is called Mary.

(42)

When he wanted to marry him she said he would wait till he had finished her education.

However, variation is not completely random, since there appears to be a tendency for the pronominal determiner to select the gender of the noun it modifies: (43)

He was looking for her aunt.

(44)

She thought his husband had travelled.

Such variation can also be observed with biological gender in nominals: Master is often found in free variation with Madam (the deferential address for a female boss), or nephew with niece, regardless of the sex of the referent. Many GhE speakers do not maintain the distinction between this and these, realizing both as [is/dis]. The result is that there seems to be no agreement between the proximate demonstrative and a plural noun. To a native speaker of BrE, GhE [dis bçis] sounds like this boys. Note that this erosion of the number distinction may possibly have its explanation in phonology rather than morphology: GhE neutralizes the length and quality distinctions of BrE [i – ] to [i] and tends to devoice final obstruents, yielding [-s] for BrE [-z], which results in [is/dis] for both demonstratives. Notional subject-verb concord accounts for examples like (45): (45)

The burial of dead bodies are becoming expensive. (Gyasi 1991: 30)

6.

Noun phrase structure

One of the most frequent differences between BrE and GhE concerns the use of definite and indefinite articles. GhE omits articles that are required in BrE, inserts articles where there are none in BrE, and also ignores distinctions of definiteness that are made in BrE. The omission of the definite article in the names of national and international bodies is very common: (46)

She just arrived from ∅ United States of America.

(47)

The representative of ∅ World Health Organisation visited the facility.

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However, if the noun is the name of a commercial establishment or public facility, the article is often inserted: (48)

He was appointed sales representative at the Nestlé, Ghana Ltd.

(49)

They are supposed to arrive at the Kotoka International Airport this evening.

The definite article also tends to be deleted where the head of the NP is post-modified with an of-phrase, as in: (50)

He called for ∅ abolition of the death penalty.

(51)

…when ∅ remuneration of health workers needs to be addressed.

Even the most highly educated speakers of GhE sometimes omit the indefinite article, as in (52): (52)

I want to buy ∅ car.

Often, this happens by analogy with similar collocations, as in (53): (53)

My sister became ∅ teacher in Achimota. (analogous to StBrE My sister became chairperson).

This can also be observed with the definite article: (54)

She was on her way to ∅ bank. (analogous to StBrE She was on her way to church).

(55)

When we talk of the freedom of ∅ press. (analogous to StBrE When we talk of the freedom of speech).

The omission of an article in majority (of)/minority (of) can be described as default usage in Ghana. These forms are used extensively in the printed press, in news broadcasts and in official speeches: (56)

Majority of Ghanaians live in rural areas.

(57)

Minority of those present voted for him.

(58)

The ruling party hoped for majority when the House voted.

Analogy also accounts for the levelling of the definiteness distinctions to be found in BrE. GhE has (59)

He started at an early age of 15. (analogous to StBrE He started work at an early age).

(60)

I had a shock of my life yesterday. (analogous to StBrE I had a shock yesterday).

Ghanaian English: morphology and syntax

861

Few/a few are often used interchangeably, as illustrated by (61), spoken with some variations on the weather forecast every evening: (61)

There will be ∅ few scattered showers over the country.

The use of the prenominal a certain for some or a generally indicates that the modified element is not to be named, as in the following examples from newspaper articles: (62)

A “certain somebody” – as we say in these parts – intimated that it was unnecessary to stage a peaceful demonstration.

(63)

This landfill project serves as ample evidence of the failure of certain people, and institutions.

In addition to article usage, the treatment of non-count nouns as count nouns is another salient feature of GhE (and of other Englishes around the world). A number of non-count nouns are persistently used as count nouns in Ghana. These include accommodation, advice, correspondence, equipment, furniture, luggage and work. (64)

We see the students looking for an accommodation anywhere they can find.

(65)

She gave me many advices before she left.

(66)

I have to do the correspondences before I leave.

(67)

The firm donated equipments worth 5 mill. cedis to the university.

(68)

You should have seen the furnitures!

(69)

Five luggages were left unclaimed at the State Transport.

(70)

Congratulations for a good work done!

Conversely, count nouns are sometimes treated as mass nouns, as in (71): (71)

This spaghetti is thicker small. ‘These spaghetti are a little thicker’.

The use of prepositions constitutes another area of common divergence between BrE and GhE. Written and spoken varieties of GhE are characterized by the replacement, omission and insertion of prepositions vis-à-vis BrE. Apart from the area of phrasal verbs mentioned above, substitution can be observed in combinations of noun + preposition (e.g. insistence at, contender to), of adverb + preposition (e.g. unworthy for, conducive for) and of preposition of place + noun (at the boiler room, on the stadium). In addition, we find of-deletion in partitive constructions (five bags rice, six bottles Schnapps), while of-insertion occurs in

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phrases like many of such cases or one of such organisations. Structures of the form in Ghana here ‘here in Ghana’ appear to be calqued on Akan wo Ghana ho.

7.

Topicalization and focus constructions

Spoken GhE in particular has a strong tendency towards left-dislocation, realized through topicalization and focus constructions as in (72) and (73): (72)

After church I’ll come.

(73)

That teacher in Achimota, is he your uncle?

Left-dislocation is also achieved through pronominal apposition, that is the insertion of a copy pronoun of the noun phrase: (74)

That woman she cheated me.

Constructions like these are very common, but restricted to the first person singular if the copied noun phrase is a pronoun: (75)

Me I cannot come.

The rather frequent topicalizing construction as for…, for example As for me, I won’t like it, can also be interpreted as an instance of left-dislocation and possibly constitutes the source of the pronominal apposition of the Me I… type (through deletion of As for). Cleft and pseudo-cleft constructions are also much more common than in BrE. See (76)–(78): (76)

It is here that I live.

(77)

It was then that she came.

(78)

Is it me you are looking for?

Spoken GhE is also marked by the frequent presence of topicalizers, most of which are borrowed from local Ghanaian languages. The most common are a, di
, kOra, nO, pa, wa and tu (the latter derives from English too). (79)

But the rumour too in town is that...

(80)

So she decided nO to report him.

(81)

As for me di
me I don't understand.

Note the triple topicalization in the last sentence: As for me + di
+ pronominal apposition me I.

Ghanaian English: morphology and syntax

863

Sentence coordination is often achieved by and then in informal spoken GhE, especially where there is a perceived temporal order or causal relationship between the coordinated sentences: (82)

I woke up and then found that the television was still on.

By analogy, the use of and then is sometimes extended to constructions where there is no obvious temporal or causal relationship between the coordinated sentences or constituents, as in (83): (83)

You take beans and then plantains.

Alternatively, NPs can also be conjoined by the coordinator plus: (84)

Rice plus beans.

8.

Lexicon

Dako (2001; 2003) has documented some 3,000 borrowings in constant use in GhE writing. The number is considerably higher in spoken discourse, but includes a less fixed vocabulary. About 60 percent of these Ghanaianisms derive from English and have undergone semantic change. Most conspicuous among these are the items fool(ish), mad, insane, silly, stupid and nonsense, which are considered translations of local taboo words and are highly insulting. The same processes that other varieties of English undergo in their word-formation processes can be discerned in GhE, including semantic extension (for example musical ‘musical interlude on the radio’), restriction (chock ‘heavy wooden wedge used as brake for older lorries’), shift (mineral ‘soft drink’), pejoration (silly ‘[taboo] stupid’), and amelioration (trinkets ‘gold jewellery’). Sorry is an expression of commiseration and thus the response to mishaps, caused by the speaker or not: (85)

I am sorry to tell you that the slaves were kept in these dungeons (a guide on a tour of a trading station).

Some frequent idiomatic expressions are: (86)

I am coming or I am going to come. ‘I will be back.’ (said when leaving)

(87)

I met your absence. ‘You were not there.’

(88)

I am taking the lead. ‘I’ll go ahead (and you will follow later).’

The following word-formation categories can be observed:

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– Functional shift (e.g. to outdoor ‘the bringing out of doors of a new-born after seven days, or of a child after puberty rites’) – Compounding of English items (blowman ‘hero in film, strong man’) – Compounding of English item + local item (jollof rice ‘West African risotto’ < Wolof + English) – Compounding of local item x + local item y (koko sakora ‘porridge without milk’ < Akan + Hausa) – Reduplication (red-red ‘fried plantains and bean-stew’) – Affixation (confusionist ‘someone causing confusion’) – Clipping (colo ‘old, old fashioned, from the colonial period’ < colonial) – Blending (shoogle ‘shake’ < shook + wriggle) – Neologism (akatamansonian ‘supporter of the National Democratic Congress party’ < Akan + English affixation) – Coinage (kalabule ‘black market business/prices’ < ?Hausa kere kabure ‘keep it quiet’) – Idiomatic expressions (item thirteen ‘refreshment’, i.e. item not on the agenda) Borrowings from local languages can be classified semantically according to the following categories – – – – – – – –

abstract concepts (e.g. Kofe Ne/and Amma ‘day-name collection in church’) references/appellations for persons (magajia ‘woman, wife’ < Hausa) food and drink (kokonte/nkonkonte ‘fufu made from cassava flour’ < Akan) interjections/exclamations (tsoo boii/tsooboi/chooboi [battle cry] < Ga) cultural concepts (adowa [Akan dance] < Akan) religion and beliefs (Asaman ‘land of the dead’ < Akan) clothes and ornaments (fugu ‘northern smock’ < Moore) gadgets/tools/implements (g(a)rawa ‘kerosene tin container, capacity measure’ < Hausa)

Culture-specific borrowings in particular retain their original phonological contour. Thus, the tones of nananom ‘chiefs’ are always LLH. A similar tendency can be observed in grammatical adaptations. Borrowed nouns usually maintain their original plural markers, for example singular okyame ‘chief’s spokesman’ (< Akan) – plural akyame and singular togbe ‘grandfather (and appellation for chief in Ewe)’ – plural togbuiwo. While the plural is not encoded by English -s alone (*okyames, *togbes), a combination of the Akan plural marker a- and English -s is possible (akyames). Since at times replaces on + definite time as in (89), at times for as in (90) and at times in as in (91): (89)

It was deposited since February 6, 1989.

(90)

We have been friends since three years.

Ghanaian English: morphology and syntax

(91)

865

The opposition alliance which he started championing since 1989.

Last + time reference is used as time reference + ago as in (92), while next + time reference means in + time reference as in (93): (92)

Last two days I met my sister on campus. ‘Two days ago...’

(93)

I expect him next two weeks. ‘...in two weeks’.

Whiles for while/whilst is very common. Some newspapers use only this form: (94)

A train and a car used by him whiles alive.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Dako, Kari 2001 Ghanaianisms: towards a semantic and formal classification. English WorldWide 22: 23−53. 2003 Ghanaianisms – a Glossary. Accra: Ghana University Press. (forthSome thoughts about the use of dental fricatives by students at the University coming) of Ghana. Exploration: Journal of the Department of English 1. Gyasi, Ibrahim K. 1991 Aspects of English in Ghana. English Today 26: 26–31. Tingley, Christopher 1981 Deviance in the English of Ghanaian newspapers. English World-Wide 2: 39–62.

Ghanaian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax Magnus Huber

1.

Introduction

Ghanaian Pidgin English (GhP) is part of the West African Pidgin (WAP) continuum, which includes the varieties spoken in Sierra Leone (Krio), Ghana, Nigeria, and Cameroon. There are many similarities between the restructured Englishes spoken in these countries, which can to a large part be explained by the fact that the pidgins spoken in Ghana, Nigeria, and Cameroon are offshoots of Krio (see Huber 1999: 75–134 for details). For this reason, the following sections will place special emphasis on those aspects where GhP differs from the other WAPs, in particular Nigerian Pidgin (NigP). Readers are therefore advised to consult the articles by Elugbe and Faraclas (this volume) to get a full contrastive view of NigP and GhP. Abbreviations used in this chapter are as follows: ABIL = ability (mood); CAUS = causative; COMPL = completive aspect; COP = copula; COMP = complementizer; DEF = definite article; DEM = demonstrative; EMPH = emphasizer; FOC = focus marker; INCOMPL = incompletive aspect (progressive, habitual); INDEF = indefinite article; INT = intentionalis; IRR = irrealis mood (future, conditional); NEG = negator; PLF = plural free subject pronoun; PLB = plural bound subject pronoun; PL = nominal plural; PLOB = plural bound object pronoun; SGB = singular free subject pronoun; SB = singular bound pronoun; SEQ = sequential tense; SGOB = singular bound object pronoun; SGPOSS = singular possessive pronoun; SGREFL = singular reflexive pronoun; TOP = topicalizer.

2.

Syntax and morphology

In comparison to other WAPs, GhP is notable for its lack of some of the more central grammatical morphemes and in some areas of grammar it looks like a simplified version of e.g. NigP. Nevertheless, the structure of GhP is still complex enough for it to be called a creole, even though it is not used as a mother tongue. The following will place special emphasis on GhP’s major divergences from NigP.

Ghanaian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax

2.1.

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Verb phrase

GhP, like the rest of the WAPs, is characterized by preverbal markers that express modal and aspectual meanings. Bickerton (1980: 5–6) outlined the following prototypical Creole TMA system, which he claimed to be universal in Creole languages: (a) the zero form marks simple past for action verbs and non-past for state verbs. (b) a marker of anterior aspect [sic] indicates past-before-past for action verbs and simple past for state verbs. (c) a marker of irrealis aspect [sic] indicates ‘unreal time’ (= futures, conditionals, subjunctives, etc.) for all verbs. (d) a marker of non-punctual aspect indicates durative or iterative aspect for action verbs. The following table is a contrastive overview of these Bickertonian tense-moodaspect markers in NigP and GhP (grave accent = low tone): Table 1. The NigP and GhP core TMA systems Tense NigP

GhP

bìn anterior

Ø

Mood NigP

GhP

Aspect NigP

GhP

gò irrealis

gò irrealis

dè incompletive

dè incompletive

2.1.1. Tense GhP lacks the marker for anterior tense (contra Turchetta 1996: 124). Therefore, relative tense (past for stative verbs and past-before-past for action verbs) can only be inferred from the context or from time adverbials. Also, since there is no formal way of marking anteriority, the Bickertonian default tense allocation for active and stative verbs (point [a] above) plays a less prominent role in GhP. In fact, unmarked verbs, stative or active, are equally open to a non-past, past, or pastbefore-past reading in GhP. Although GhP shares the incompletive (= nonpunctual) aspect marker with other WAPs, another central aspectual auxiliary is absent from its TMA inventory: in NigP the completive marker is preverbal dOn, and its negative counterpart is n
va. DOn is unknown in GhP (contra Amoako 1992: 73). However, GhP shares with other WAPs an alternative strategy to encode completion: serialized fini, which follows the verb marked for completiveness: (1)

a baf fini, a de kom ma h
o. 1SGB bathe COMPL 1SGB INCOMP comb 1SGPOSS hair TOP ‘I had finished my bath and was combing my hair’.

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Other TMA markers that are shared by NigP and GhP will only illustrated here by one example each: (2)

afta skul a tek h
as

lfr
n bifO w kam after school 1SGB take 3SGOB as a girlfriend before 1PLB SEQ bOn. (kam – sequential tense) give-birth ‘She became my girlfriend after school and then we got a child’.

2.1.2. Mood (3)

ju no o fit slip. 2SGB NEG IRR ABIL sleep ‘You won’t be able to sleep’.

(o – irrealis, fit – ability)

(4)

w f O iv am tans. 1PLB DEO give 3SGOB chance ‘We should/have to give her/him a chance’.

(5)

d
fait  wan tOp-tOp a frOm dat ples tu aanti DEF fight 3SGB INT eat(x2) TOP from DEM place to Ashanti

(f O – deontic mood)

rid
n o. (wan – proximate future) region TOP ‘The fighting was about to spread from that place to the Ashanti Region’. The NigP infinitive marker fO is not attested in GhP. 2.1.3. Aspect (6)

d
tin  no de o fOwad. (de – incompletive) DEF thing 3SGB NEG INCOMP go forward ‘The thing was not moving forward’.

2.1.4. Copula verbs GhP does not have the positive equative copula/highlighter na, common in other WAPs. Instead, GhP makes use of b (7), which is also used in cleft sentences (8). In both cases, NigP, CamP, and Krio use na. (7)

w tik se  1PLB think COMP 3SGB ‘We thought it was something bad’.

b bad ti. COP bad thing

Ghanaian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax

(8)

869

 b so f
s kruma wan mek am. 3SGB COP so first Nkrumah INT make 3SGOB ‘That’s how Nkrumah wanted to do it first’.

Although existential 
t ‘there is’ is attested in GhP, it is not used in the impersonal i 
t (3sg get) construction as in NigP. Rather, speakers of GhP prefer w 
t: (9)

w 
t sOm lokal 1PLB get INDEF local ‘There are local lamps’.

lamp. lamp

2.1.5. Comparison Comparison is usually achieved by serialized pas. In other WAPs, the omission of the object of comparison in such constructions conveys a comparative or superlative meaning. In GhP, however, deletion of the object (bold in the following example) is not possible. (10)

 luk fain s
f pas dis aua 3SGB look fine FOC pass DEM 1PP ‘It even looks nicer than our area’.

2.2.

Noun Phrase


ria area

s
f. FOC

2.2.1. Articles Non-specific (generic) nouns, both countables and uncountables, are not accompanied by an article: (11)

nOmali w de bai Ø ip normally 1PLB INCOMP buy sheep ‘Normally, we buy a sheep and kill it’.

kil kill

am. 3SGOB

Specific singular and plural nouns can be marked by the invariant definite article d
, corresponding to NigP di: (12)

ju o fit stan
n luk insai d
sin
ma s
f. 2SGB IRR ABIL stand and look inside DEF cinema FOC ‘You would have been able to stand (on a heap) and look into the cinema’.

(13)

d
traib we a kOl fO ju  b d
m. DEF tribe COMP 1SGB call for 2SGOB 3SGB COP 3PLF d
a tifs de 3SGPOSS chiefs COP ‘The chiefs of the tribes that I enumerated are around’.

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The GhP indefinite articles are different from those of NigP. In GhP, sOm is usually used in the singular (PL in NigP): (14)

w 
t sOm
ria de de kOl am kaokodi. 1PLB get INDEF area 3PLB IRR call 3SGOB Kaokodi ‘There is an area that is called Kaokodi’.

Only occasionally does sOm occur in plural contexts, its common environment in NigP: (15)

a si sOm 1SGB see INDEF ‘I saw small children’.

smO-smO small(x2)

pikins. child-PL

Note that in these cases, plurality of the noun is always also indicated by other means such as reduplication of an attributive adjective and/or an -s suffix. In more acrolectal varieties, sOm varies with the StGhE
in the singular: (16)

a de as
bat
la ap 1SGB COP as INDEF bachelor up ‘I have been living as a bachelor until now’.

til till

nau. now

In the singular, sOm is occasionally replaced by wan, the NigP indefinite singular article: (17)

am draivin wan alahadi. I’m driving INDEF Hadji ‘I’m driving a Hadji’.

Article + noun + article structures occur in the student variety (i.e. an informal, spontaneous spoken but nevertheless educated subset of English in Ghana) and are calqued on the respective structure in Akan (i.e. one of the major languages of Ghana). (18) illustrates the postposed Akan specifier bi: (18)

a das de insai sOm smOl Ots bi. 1SGB just COP inside some small shorts [Akan specifier] ‘I was only wearing shorts’.

Note that the use of all overt articles is optional if the context provides sufficient information concerning the definiteness of the noun. Table 2. The GhP article system

Countables Uncountables

Nonspecific

Specific Indefinite

definite

singular

Ø

sOm,
, (wan), Ø

d
, Ø

plural

Ø

(sOm), Ø

d
, Ø

Ø

sOm, Ø

d
, Ø

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2.2.2. Number GhP does not have the postposed plural marker d
m found in Krio, CamP, and NigP. However, there are several ways to indicate nominal plurality. First, plural nouns may remain unmarked, so that number has to be inferred from the context. In the following example, the plurality of wuma can be deduced from the fact that the resumptive pronoun in the relative clause is third person plural: (19)

w 
t sOm wuma we de de kuk. 1PLB get INDEF woman COMP 3PLB INCOMP cook ‘There were women who cooked (for us)’.

By far the most common plural marker in GhP is the -s suffix, as in StGhE. The -s may occur on its own or combine with other pluralization strategies, such as reduplication (21): (20)

dis tifs  b d
m 
t DEM chief-PL 3SGB COP 3PLF get ‘It is these chiefs who rule Nima’.

(21)

uain-uain bOis shoe-shine(x2) boy-PL ‘Shoe-shiner boys’

nima. Nima

For the expression of plurality through reduplication of nouns see 2.4.1. below. 2.2.3. Personal pronouns GhP has two sets of pronouns: free and bound. Free pronouns bear a high tone (marked with an acute accent) and cannot directly precede a verb. They occur in emphatic or contrastive contexts, e.g. in the focussed position of cleft constructions, while the low-toned bound pronouns (glossed B) always precede the verb slot. In (22) the focussed 3SG pronoun occurs in the free form in, whereas the one in the following relative clause is the bound form: (22)

 b in [we  mek Ovanm
nt no put mO 3SGB COP 3SG [COMP 3SGB CAUS government NEG put more pr
a fO wi ]. pressure for 1PLF] ‘That is what prevents the government from using more pressure on us’.

Free subject pronouns cannot directly precede the verb but must be separated from it by an intervening bound pronoun: (23)

mi a no o 1SG 1SGB NEG IRR ‘I won’t be able to buy it’.

fit ABIL

bai buy

am. 3SGOB

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Tables 3 and 4 give an overview of the GhP subject and object pronouns: Table 3.

GhP subject pronouns

Subject pronouns (free) sg pl 1 2 3

mi ju in

Table 4.

wi ju dm

Subject pronouns (bound) sg pl 1 2 3

wì ju de, dm

GhP object pronouns

Object pronouns (free) sg pl 1 2 3

a ju ì

mi ju am

wi, çs, s, as ju dm

Object pronouns (bound) sg pl 1 2 3

mì ju am

wì, ç$s, s, as ju dm

Like in other WAPs, there is variation in the first person plural between basilectal wi and the successively more acrolectal forms Os,
s, as. The major characteristic that distinguishes the GhP pronominal system from that of the other WAP dialects is the absence of the second person plural form una. Instead, GhP has ju, a form identical with the StGhE pronoun. Further, the educated variety of GhP has two possessive pronouns that to my knowledge do not occur anywhere else in West Africa: wana ‘our’ and dema ‘their’. 2.2.4. Noun + bound pronoun constructions A construction that is similar to the free + bound pronoun sequence mentioned in the previous section can be found with nouns in subject position. In principle, all nouns can directly be followed by a verb (24) or may optionally be separated from it by a bound pronoun (25): (24)

wOta kari d
m Ol insai d
water carry 3PLOB all inside DEF ‘The flood washed them all into the drain’.

(25)

ma sOfa  1SGPOSS suffer 3SGB ‘My suffering is a lot here’.

pl
nti hi
. be-plenty here

Ota. gutter

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However, noun + bound pronoun constructions are especially frequent in emphatic environments, e.g. in focus or emphasis through s
f, or topicalization through e.g. di
or nO: (26a) fOr
n
s
f  de wOka
. foreigner FOC 3SGB INCOMP walk ‘Even foreigners walk around’. (26b) smOl bebi di
 pl
nti. small baby TOP 3SGB be-many ‘There are many small babies’. Abstracting from these examples, any separation of the subject noun from the verb through intervening material favours the insertion of a bound pronoun. For example, relative clauses modifying a subject head are in almost all cases followed by a bound pronoun. (27)

d
bOs [we  de d
]  b ma Ok
l. DEF boss [COMP 3SGB COP there] 3SGB COP 1SGPOSS uncle ‘The boss there is my uncle’.

2.2.5. Prepositions FO is the main general locative/directional preposition in GhP. As in NigP, locative fO can be followed by insai or autsai (< inside, outside) to express location in or outside the point of reference. The insai/autsai + noun construction following the preposition resembles a possessive noun phrase – ‘the inside of Accra’ in (28). The uneducated variety prefers constructions where insai and autsai precede the possessed. The preposition may be omitted: (28)

ju de o [fO [insai 2SGB INCOMP go for inside ‘You go to the centre of Accra’.

akra]]. Accra

In student pidgin, an informal variety spoken in a more or less educated context, insai and autsai follow the reference point: (29)

de o tek kOva [fO [bu insai]]. 3PLB go take cover for bush inside ‘They went and took cover in the bush’.

Another characteristic of the student variety is the use of plas ‘with’: (30)

 kam plas sOm bi 3SGB come plus INDEF big ‘He came with a flashy car’.

taim time

raid. ride

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2.3.

Conjunctions

D
n ‘and’ is used in the educated variety to conjoin words and phrases, as in: (31a) mi d
n d
tik o tOk smO nO. 1SG and DEF chick IRR talk small TOP ‘The chick and I will talk a little’. (31b) a fO trai d
n tOk sOm d
man. 1SGB DEO try and talk INDEF German ‘I should try to speak some German’. Very occasionally plas ‘and, with’ is heard in the uneducated variety: (32)

d
mOni we  tek b  o plas d
b
t. DEF money COMP 3SGB take COP 3SGPOSS own and DEF bet ‘The money that he took was his own and the bet’.

2.4.

Reduplication

Reduplication is very frequent in GhP. It affects verbs, nouns, attributive adjectives (predicative forms are verbs in GhP), time and manner adverbials, adverbs, and numerals. The prototypical function of reduplication is the expression of plurality (verbs, nouns, numerals) or intensity (adjectives, adverbials). As to the formal characteristics of the process: GhP reduplicates the whole word stem without changing its phonological or tonemic form. For a more exhaustive treatment of reduplication in GhP, see Huber (2003). 2.4.1. Reduplication of nouns Apart from -s suffixation, reduplication of nouns is another strategy to indicate the plural. Noun reduplications carry with them a dispersive (‘here and there, all over the place’) or sometimes an iterative (‘again and again, i.e. nothing but’) meaning, as exemplified in (33): (33a) w no de si sOm lait-lait-lait-lait-lait-lait (dispersive). 1PLB NEG INCOMP see some light(x6) ‘We did not see any lights (here and there)’. (33b) f
s ju de tOp Oi
l-Oi
l(iterative). first 2SGB INCOMP [eat] oil(x2) ‘First, you eat oil (again and again, i.e. nothing but nice food)’. Plurality of the noun can also be expressed by reduplicating an attributive adjective (34). This is often accompanied by an -s suffix on the noun (35):

Ghanaian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax

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(34)

 kari smOl-smOl bebi. 3SGB carry small(x2) baby ‘It carried small babies away’.

(35)

de de iv Os sOm smO-smO-smO tabl
s. 3PLB INCOMP give 1PLOB INDEF small(x3) tablet-PL ‘They gave us small tablets’.

Since reduplicated adjectives can also signal intensity – see (38)–(39) below – the first example in (34) has two potential meanings: (a) simple plural – ‘small babies’, and (b) intensive – ‘very small babies’. Reduplication as a word-formation strategy appears to be restricted to the derivation of deverbal nouns. As a rule, GhP verbs can be used as nouns without reduplicating them – as in e.g. d
sOfa de (DEF suffer COP) ‘there is suffering around’. What reduplication adds is a dispersive/iterative meaning, e.g. ‘recurring births here and there, in different families’ (36a) or ‘poverty everywhere you look’ in example (36b). (36a) d
bOn-bOn  DEF give-birth(x2) 3SGB ‘The births are many’. (36b)  3SGB

b COP

pl
nti (verb → noun). be-plenty

puO-puO de mek ju de poor(x2) INCOMP CAUS 2SGB INCOMP

o bus (adjective → noun). go booze ‘It is poverty that makes you go and drink’.

2.4.2. Reduplication of adjectives and adverbials Reduplicated time and manner adverbials express precision (37) or intensification (38): (37)

 b nau-nau-nau if ju o 3SGB COP now(x3) if 2SGB go ‘Even at this very moment, if you go there…’

(38)

a tOk tu d
m w
l-w
l. 1SGB talk to 3PLOB well(x2) ‘I talked to them very sensibly’.

rit d
a… reach there…

The function of adjective reduplication is also intensification: (39)

a o tek ju dip-dip-dip-dip-dip-dip 1SGB IRR take 2SGOB deep(x6)

plesis we place-PL COMP

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ju jOs
f o de si. 2SG 2SGREFL IRR INCOMP see ‘I’ll take you to very remote places where you will see with your own eyes’.

2.4.3. Reduplication of verbs Reduplication of verbs expresses plurality of action. This can either be iterative/ habitual (repeated or regularly recurring actions) or dispersive (several actions performed by one or more individuals, affecting several objects or different locations). One of the principal differences between iterative and dispersive aspect is whether or not the actions are performed at recurring intervals or more or less synchronically. (a) Iterative or habitual In GhP, the iterative aspect of the reduplicated verb is often emphasized by the non-punctual (habitual or progressive) marker dè. An example of iteration is given in (40): (40)

 b biko we  de d
we  de 3SGB COP Biko COMP 3SGB COP there COMP 3SGB INCOMP vOmit-vOmit d
n t-t. vomit(x2) and shit(x2) ‘It was Biko who (was there and) kept on vomiting and shitting’.

(b) Dispersive Examples are (41) with a singular subject and (42) with a plural subject: (41)

ma tao  tia-tia. 1SGPOSS towel 3SGB tear(x2) ‘My towel is all torn (i.e. torn here and there)’.

(42)

dos pipu de de insai de haid-haid d
ms
f. DEM people 3PLB COP inside 3PLB hide(x2) 3PR ‘Those people who were inside hid themselves (i.e. individually in different places)’.

2.5.

Focus

Sentence constituents can be focussed through the insertion of emphatic particles after the focussed element. The most common focus particle is s
f ‘even’, which not only focalizes individual nouns, verbs, or adverbs, but also entire noun phrases, verb phrases, or adverbial phrases:

Ghanaian Pidgin English: morphology and syntax

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(43a) nau a fit wOka s
f ka it. now 1SGB ABIL walk FOC come shit ‘Now I am even able to walk (here) to ease myself’. (43b)

NP[d


rum [we mi a de insai]] s
f kOlapst. DEF room COMP 1SG 1SGB COP inside FOC collapsed ‘Even the room in which I lived collapsed’.

2.6.

Topicalization and emphasis

The two major topicalization strategies in GhP are the use of particles after the topicalized element and left-dislocation. The most common topic particles are a, di
, kOra, nO, pa, tu, and nau. Topicalization will be illustrated with sentences containing the two most common particles, nO and di
: (44)

[[dat bi Ota] nO we w 
t am hi
] nO. DEF big gutter TOP COMP 1PLB get 3SGOB here TOP ‘That big drain that we get here’ (topicalization of NP and sentence).

(45)

[d
tin [ we w de tOp nau]] di
,  no DEF thing COMP 1PLB INCOMP [eat] now TOP 3SGB NEG o fit. IRR ABIL ‘She will not be able (to eat) what we eat now’ (complex NP).

The particle o is found in sentence-final position and adds emphasis to the whole sentence. It signals emotional involvement on the part of the speaker or appeals for hearer empathy: (46)

ma fr
n, ju o pe fO dis wan o. 1SGPOSS friend, 2SGB IRR pay for DEM one EMPH ‘My friend, you will (have to) pay for this one!’

The other major topicalization strategy is left-dislocation. This moves the topicalized element to the beginning of the sentence and fills the element’s original position with an anaphoric pronoun. Left-dislocated elements may optionally be introduced by fO ‘as for’: (47)

(fO) kliniks, w 
t am for clinic-PL 1PLB get 3SGB ‘As for clinics, we now have them’.

nau. now

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Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Amoako, Joe K.Y.B. 1992 Ghanaian Pidgin English: in search of synchronic, diachronic, and sociolinguistic evidence. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Florida at Gainsville. Bickerton, Derek (1974) Creolization, linguistic universals, natural semantax and the brain. In: Richard 1980 R. Day (ed.), Issues in English Creoles. Papers from the 1975 Hawaii Conference, 1–18. Heidelberg: Groos. Huber, Magnus 1999 Ghanaian Pidgin English in its West African Context. A Sociohistorical and Structural Analysis. Amsterdam/Philadephia: Benjamins. 2003 Verbal reduplication in Ghanaian Pidgin English. Origins, forms, and functions. In: Silvia Kouwenberg (ed.), Twice as Meaningful. Reduplication in Pidgins, Creoles and Other Contact Languages, 139–154. London: Battlebridge. Turchetta, Barbara 1996 Lingua e Diversità. Multilinguismo e Lingue Veicolari in Africa Occidentale. Milano: FrancoAngeli.

Liberian Settler English: morphology and syntax* John Victor Singler

1.

Introduction

The Liberian Settlers of today are the descendants of the 16,000 African Americans who immigrated to Liberia in the years from 1821 to 1872, with the largest numbers immigrating in the period from 1848 to 1854. The present examination of the syntax of Liberian Settler English (LibSE) focuses on the speech of the Settlers of Sinoe County, specifically on the speech of elders who lived in the upriver settlements above Greenville, the county seat (see chapter on LibSE phonology, other volume). Several factors point to the LibSE of Sinoe as especially likely to provide information about the history of African American Vernacular English (AAVE). To begin with, most of the immigrants to Sinoe came from the Lower South, primarily Georgia and Mississippi, but also South Carolina, Louisiana, and Alabama. Further, factors that might have pushed the Settlers’ language towards standard English, e.g. government support of education or the presence of missionaries, were virtually non-existent in Sinoe before the middle part of the twentieth century. At the same time, chronic hostility between the Sinoe Settlers and the indigenous people of Sinoe likely served to limit local influence upon the Sinoe Settlers’ LibSE. The discussion that follows is divided into seven sections. First, the following aspects of LibSE grammar are addressed in sections 2. – 5.: the verb phrase, adjectives, the noun phrase, and relativization and complementation. Then, the position of LibSE within the African American Diaspora is considered, with reference not only to its status as a modern descendant of the speech of agricultural workers in the lower South of the US around 1850 (section 6.), but also to its status as a Liberian speech variety and the possible influence upon it of contact with other Liberian speech varieties (section 7.). The final section 8. assesses the future of LibSE.

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2.

The verb phrase

2.1.

Tense – aspect

2.1.1. Completive, perfective, and perfect aspect and the past tense There is an extensive overlap in function among verb suffixes and preverbal auxiliaries in LibSE. Accordingly, while one can provide a characterization of a given form, that characterization will not necessarily be discrete and is not necessarily part of a simple opposition to some other form or forms. The treatment of the completive – perfective – perfect range is a case in point. Definitions of the three concepts can make them sound distinct, but the reality is that there is often extensive overlap among them. The distinction between the concepts of completive and perfective with reference to actions illustrates this. Completive focuses on the completion of an action, while perfective presents the action as an unanalyzed whole. Since ordinarily one cannot present an action as an unanalyzed whole until after its completion, completive and perfective are hard to distinguish (cf. Singler 1984). The LibSE auxiliaries feni (< finish) and done would seem, on the surface, to focus on the endpoint of an action or state. Yet they can be used with reference to actions where the endpoint – as opposed to the action as an complete entity – is trivial or irrelevant. This is the case in (1). (1)

Now I got a son, that my first child, a son till he done born child now. Now I have a son–he’s my first child–a son who’s big enough that he has now fathered a child.’

Similarly, there are contexts when an action is of extremely short duration and its internal constituency irrelevant. In such cases, it is the complete action – rather than the act of completing it – that is temporally relevant. In (2), for example, the emphasis is on the act of telling, not on the endpoint of the act of telling. (2)

In that time, the old people, if you go, when you get to they place, time you get there, “What you ma send you for?” You better tell ‘em quick. And when you feni telling them, [they say,] “All right, come on, go home.”

The markers in question can function to signal the perfect aspect as well, as in (3): (3)

I done forget the year I born.

The choices open to speakers include the auxiliaries done, feni, na, and have/had as well as the verb suffix -ed. Done is the single most salient affective marker of Settler identity. Non-Settlers do not use it, and Settlers and non-Settlers alike identify it as signalling Settlerhood. Within the Sinoe Settler corpus, there is a three-way social distinction that consistently signals linguistic difference, namely whether an individual held a government job as a teacher, held some other government job

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(such as a justice of the peace or janitor), or never worked for the government at all. A part of the significance of this division is that those who never held a government job are the ones most likely to display vernacular LibSE features in the course of sociolinguistic interviews, with teachers the least likely to do so. The distribution of the use of done is a case in point. The speakers in the corpus who never held a government job use the auxiliary done quite frequently, while teachers use it rarely if at all. The middle group – those who held government jobs other than teacher – pattern in the middle, using done occasionally but not frequently. In contrast (as discussed in Section 7. below), feni has entered LibSE from Vernacular Liberian English (VLE), the pidginized variety that most non-Settler speakers of English use. Here, too, the distribution is tied to questions of contact: Settlers who lived or worked as adults in Greenville, the more integrated county seat, use feni while other Sinoe Settlers do not. The third option, the auxiliary na, illustrated in (4) and (5), is used less frequently, and its provenance is not so straightforward. (4)

I swear, Sarah, they na stay long o. ‘… they’ve been gone a long time.’

(5)

Like we sitting down here talking, me and my children and my wife, we sitting down talking, the moment we see a friend coming to me and my wife, as that man or that woman reach in the house and speak, “Yall, hello,” before we feni greeting them when, to say, “Take seat,” those children na get up long time and gone. ‘The way we’re sitting down here talking now, if it were me and my children and my wife and we were sitting down talking, the moment we saw a friend coming to me and my wife, when the man or that woman entered inside the house and spoke, “Yall, hello,” by the time we had greeted them and told them to have a seat, those children would have gotten up a long time ago and left the room.’

Na is an auxiliary in VLE as well as in LibSE. Singler (1987) presents various scenarios for its origin, arguing ultimately that it represents a phonological adaptation of done (the Kru languages along the coast not making a distinction between /dV / and /nV/). The Sinoe Settlers do not use na a lot, but they perceive it as theirs rather than as a recent borrowing like feni. (On the basis of homophony, Liberians analyze it as deriving from the temporal adverb now.) The auxiliaries feni and done can co-occur (as in [6]), as can na and feni (as in [7]), and any of the three can co-occur with a form of have. However, na and done cannot co-occur. This would seem to constitute evidence that na does come from done. (6)

We two, we get to sewing them, we feni done sew it, then I join it up. ‘The two of us, we get to sewing quilt pieces, and when we finish, then I join the pieces up.’

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(7)

We na feni do the work. ‘We’ve done the work.’

Forms of have are also used frequently, serving to signal present perfect and past perfect. The form of the auxiliary is very often ha, with the final consonant absent on the surface. In those cases it is not always clear whether the intended form is have, had or has. The addition of the -ed suffix is variable. Its principal semantic function is to signal past tense, with perfective aspect often but not always inferable. Whether or not speakers use the -ed suffix is sensitive to semantic factors and phonological constraints. In the course of sociolinguistic interviews with elders, a lot of questions arise as to how things used to be. When LibSE speakers respond with non-specific examples or how things used to be or describe past procedures that no longer obtain, they do not use the past-tense suffix. (8) illustrates this: (8)

JVS: Ishmael: JVS: Ishmael:

When you were a young boy, did you use to fight with the other boys? Oh, when I wa young boy? Yes. Well, yeah. Because ... sometime we goes to play ... and fuss come there. You pick fuss at me, I pick fuss, we fight. [laughs] That’s all.

On the other hand, a LibSE speaker who is describing an actual event or state is likely to use the past-tense suffix if the verb is perfective, somewhat less likely if it is imperfective. Moreover, speakers are most likely to mark past tense overtly if a strong verb is involved, e.g. took for take, and quite likely to do so if the verb, while weak, takes a syllabic ending, e.g. reported for report. They are far less likely to mark the past tense overtly if the verb takes a non-syllabic weak ending, especially if the stem ends with a consonant. In such a case, the addition of the suffix creates a coda cluster, and these are disfavored in LibSE (see the article on LibSE phonology, other volume). 2.1.2. Imperfective aspect While the past-tense suffix is reasonably robust and will ordinarily be present if the semantic and phonological conditions are right (see 2.1.1. above), the same does not hold for the third person singular -s. A crucial difference between -ed and the third person singular -s is that there are a number of irregular verbs, so that the existence of past tense marking does not depend solely on the saliency of a coda consonant. One might make the same point about plural marking (discussed below in 4.1.). Here, too, there are commonly occurring irregular forms. In contrast, there is nothing like that for the third person singular -s. The copula aside, the only stem change

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that accompanies the addition of third person singular -s is the vowel change that occurs in the shift from do to does, from have to has, and from say to says. Speakers of LibSE rarely use the third person singular -s. When they use it at all, it is likely to be to mark habitual occurrence, to be with the verb go, and/or to be with reference to religion. The example in (9) illustrates all three of these. (9)

Every Sunday we goes to church.

Even when these favouring conditions hold, the use of the third person singular -s is infrequent. Progressive aspect is routinely signalled by the -ing suffix (pronounced [e]). In standard English, the appropriate tensed form of be co-occurs with V-ing, e.g. it’s raining and I was just leaving. In LibSE, on the other hand, it is relatively rare for a tensed form of be to co-occur with V-ing in a non-past environment. A tensed form of be does co-occur with V-ing when the verb has specific reference (as opposed to a hypothetical example or non-specific instantiation, as discussed in 2.1.1.). An exception to this characterization of be involves when clauses; invariant be often co-occurs with V-ing in them, like in (10): (10)

Even much, my little son, I was teaching him how to make quilt but this young generation, they like to laugh at the children when they be turning toward these thing.

Habitual and iterative actions can be marked by zero, by the third person singular -s, by d , by de, or by useta. D , discussed below in Sections 5. and 6., is illustrated in (11), and de in (12). Each of them is tenseless and occurs in non-past and past environments alike. (11)

Every time I see someone from America I d ask them say, “Yall hear talk of any Walkers?”

(12)

Cash bag, I de tote the cash bag on my head, to carry it from the pay ground, to, to the waterside. ‘The bag containing the payroll, I used to carry it on my head from the pay ground to waterside.’

The tenselessness may follow from the strong tendency in LibSE for overt pasttense marking to be largely restricted to specific events rather than the habitual, non-specific ones that d and de characteristically mark. D ordinarily is restricted in distribution to habituals; moreover, it occurs with the bare verb. In contrast, de can occur with states, too (13), and it can occur either with the bare verb or with V-ing (14). (13)

I went and sat for the examination because I de want to be a travelling elder.

(14)

He de try/trying to find a job.

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As noted in Section 6. below, while virtually all LibSE speakers use d , it is used most by the people who live in the upriver settlements, the speakers of what appears to be the most conservative variety of LibSE. In contrast, de is used primarily by speakers with extensive formal education. In the phonology chapter on LibSE (other volume), the point was made that formal education serves an integrative function in Liberia. De is an imperfective auxiliary in VLE (and in the English pidgins of West Africa more generally). Within VLE, de is a basilectal feature, indeed a stigmatized basilectal feature. It is ironic, then, that the Sinoe settlers who use it are the ones with more education, not less. LibSE also makes use of the past habitual AUX useta, which can mark past states as well. It is subject to phonological reduction, occurring as st and even as s . In Standard English (StE), used to alternates with would, with used to marking the first of a series of past habitual events, and would marking the rest of them. While that alternation also occurs in LibSE, it does not happen often. Instead, useta is used repeatedly, as in (15). (15)

We useta go to dances, we useta play music box, and guitar. We useta come, when we come, see us dancing, man. We useta dance. When we finish dancing, then we go home.

2.2.

Mood

The future is expressed both by will ([we]) and gan. (16) illustrates the use of gan. (16)

How he gan come back home today?

Would and a range of English modals do crop up in LibSE, but only can and must occur with any frequency. Must, frequently pronounced [m ], has a wider semantic range in LibSE than it does in American vernaculars. One common use of it is in questions like the one in (17). (17)

Q: A:

And how they can dance that one there? I must dance it? ‘Should I dance it?”

2.3.

The copula

A great deal of attention has been directed toward the copula in AAVE and in diaspora varieties, including LibSE (Singler 1991a). In his classic study of the copula, William Labov (1969) argued that AAVE was like other American vernaculars in having an underlying full copula and an optional rule of contraction that acted upon the copula in non-past contexts. He claimed that AAVE departed from the

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other vernaculars in having an additional rule of deletion that acted upon the output of the contraction rule. Romaine (1982) argued for a different relationship for the three surface variants. Like Labov, Romaine posited an underlying full copula. However, she posited an optional rule of deletion; then, for full forms that had not undergone the deletion rule, she posited an optional rule of contraction. The LibSE of Sinoe is crucially different from the other varieties under consideration and is indeed different from other varieties of LibSE. In the LibSE of Sinoe, the choice is binary, between a zero variant and a surface variant. When one organizes the data by subject type, there is no category for which a three-way division exists. Instead, the surface forms are the following: subject I he, she, it, that, what here, there, where, this Singular full NP these, those, they, we, you, yall Plural full NP

copula ’m ’s is is are are

Singler (1993) proposes to account for the variation with a rule of insertion rather than deletion. There is one exception to the assertion that no three-way division exists. While ordinarily the choice for he/she is either ’s or zero, he (or He) is and she is do occur when the topic is God or religion. Labov (1969) asserts that deletion of the AAVE copula is restricted to non-past copulas (and not even to all of those, in that I’m and it’s/that’s/what’s are categorical in AAVE). However, in LibSE zero copulas sometimes show up in past-tense environments, as in the lower clause of the second sentence in (18). The person being described in (18) is the elderly speaker’s grandfather, dead for more than sixty years at the time of the interview. (18)

So they came out now, and he drew about 61 acres of land in Bluntsville. There where he at. ‘So they came out to Liberia now, and he was given about 61 acres in Bluntsville. That’s where he was.’

Another copula worthy of mention is s , discussed in Section 6. and illustrated in (19) and (20). (19)

But still we s hard up. ‘But still we’re hard up.’

(20)

JVS: And only boys would play [the game]? Or boys and girls? Claudius: S only boy. Only boy play Bantu. The girls got they own play to play.

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2.4.

Negation

As noted in Section 6. below, the use of ain’t in place of didn’t is a common occurrence in LibSE. Ain’t can occur with past preterits (as in [21]), as well as with verbs that are arguably present perfect (as in [22]): (21)

I telling you what the old people told me now. Because that one I ain’t see with my own eye.

(22)

Sister Rose ain’t come yet o.

The negative auxiliary, whether ain’t, didn’t, or don’t, is subject to extreme reduction. In the examples in (21) and (22), taken from sociolinguistic interviews, ain’t is pronounced with a full vowel, i.e. as [e]. At other times, speakers use the full forms didn’t (pronounced [de]) or don’t [do]. However, the usual pronunciation of the negative auxiliary consists simply of a high-toned nasalized copy of the vowel preceding it, like in (23) – (25): (23)

He n’t [hi ] tell me that.

(24)

Slipper self, I n’t [aa ] use to wear. ‘I didn’t even use to wear slippers.’

(25)

It n’t [ee ] been paying me from that time. ‘It hasn’t been paying me since that time.’

Negative concord is a regular feature of LibSE, as illustrated in (26) and (27). (26)

Churchy and myself, I n’t never do nothing to him.

(27)

Q: A:

What happen you be walking and the night catch you, catches you on the road? What yall do? I n’t gan never tamper to go long distance, I know night gan catch me on on the road, I n’t gan get to no house. ‘I would never attempt to go a long distance if I knew darkness was going to catch me on the road and I wouldn’t be able to get to a house.’

In AAVE and other American dialects that have double negation, the usual site for additional markers of negation is an indefinite NP. While LibSE can place no in front of an indefinite noun, it also permits the emphatic use of negation in front of adjectives (28) and definite nouns (29). (28)

When I look at it, they say these is modern day, the thing better, but I n’t see no better, I see worse.

(29)

Oh, and my heart don’t tell me to go to no Monrovia.

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In StE, when the subject phrase of a sentence is negative, the verb is not. LibSE speakers vary as to whether they place negation in the verb phrase in such cases, as illustrated in (30) and (31). (30)

No organization in the church can’t do without me.

(31)

At that time no doctor was here.

In general, LibSE speakers tend to use the pattern in (31), i.e. confining negation to the subject phrase, rather than that in (30). They perceive the sentence in (30) as more formal, hence more appropriate with outsiders than in in-group conversation (The Rev. Hosea Ellis, p.c.).

3.

Adjectives

3.1.

The status of adjectives

While there are Niger-Congo languages for which adjectives are syntactically a type of verb and while there has been an ongoing controversy in creole studies regarding the status of adjectives in particular creoles, there is no doubt that LibSE has true adjectives. At the same time, it is still the case that there are times when LibSE speakers treat adjectives like verbs. Specifically, speakers place preverbal auxiliaries immediately before adjectives, as in (32) – (34). (32)

Next morning, the soap done hard. ‘By the next morning, the soap will have hardened completely.’

(33)

But now, everybody na kwi. ‘But now, everybody has become westernized.’

(34)

So he said this S.A. Ross, he d friendly with the Dutch agent. ‘So he said this S.A. Ross used to be friendly with the Dutch agent.’

3.2.

Comparatives and superlatives

It was noted above that preverbal auxiliary done is the linguistic badge of Settler identity par excellence. A further signal of Settler identity is the use of doubly marked comparatives (and superlatives), as in (35) and (36): (35)

But they are more wiser than what we are.

(36)

I would like it more better if I could see more change.

In the case of double comparatives, the association of the construction with Settlers is reinforced by a fixed phrase used by Liberians generally. In the exchange of greetings, a jocular way of saying that things are going badly is to say:

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(37)

Congo man say “worser.” ‘As Settlers say, “The situation is worser.”’

(The use of Congo to refer to Settlers is discussed in the chapter on LibSE phonology.)

4.

The noun phrase

4.1.

Plural marking

If a noun is semantically plural and morphologically irregular, it will be marked for the plural. In contrast, semantically plural regular nouns are variably marked, with overt marking occurring less than half the time. Whether or not a regular noun will be overtly marked is sensitive to a number of factors, including the final segment of the noun. If it is a sibilant and therefore the plural suffix is syllabic, overt marking is highly likely. In contrast, if the final segment is a non-sibilant consonant and therefore the plural suffix will create a coda cluster, then overt marking is far less likely. Particular semantic categories pattern in surprising ways, with units of time likely to be overtly marked while plants, crops, and units of money are extremely unlikely to take an overt suffix. More general syntactic-semantic categories fall in between. Generic plurals are also unlikely to receive plural marking (since they are not truly plurals). As with many other elements of the grammar, the likelihood that a form will appear is sensitive to a speaker’s background. Thus, among the Sinoe Settlers, there is much less likelihood of overt plural marking if the speaker comes from an upriver settlement and/or has never held a government job. The relevance of a government job is that the speakers who are the most insularly Settler in their language tend to be those who never held government employment; the correlation between job status and frequency of overt plural forms suggests that wide scale marking of the plural is not a traditional feature of vernacular LibSE. In the VLE basilect, as in West African pidgins more generally, the plural can be marked by placing them (pronounced [d]) after the head noun. Settlers don’t use them to mark the simple plural. They do, however, use it to signal the associative plural, as illustrated in (38) and (39). (38)

David Mitchell them use to draw their music box. ‘David Mitchell and his group used to play their concertinas.’

(39)

So with that my old lady them reared plenty boys and girls to learn the Christian way of living. ‘So in that way, my mother and her generation trained many boys and girls in the Christian way of living.’

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Possession: pronoun choice

Possession is ordinarily expressed by word order, with the possessor preceding the possessed, e.g. his aunty husband; the people cows. Among the speakers in the Sinoe Settler corpus, those who are teachers sometimes insert possessive ’s, e.g. my father’s mother, but other speakers do not. The possessive adjectives are the following: my you his, her

our (or, infrequently, we) yall they

As the table suggests, we sometimes appears rather than our, as in (40): (40)

When we done make we farm, we n’t know nothing about sell, we keep it, to have to eat. ‘After we made our farm, we didn’t think at all about selling [the produce]; we kept it so that we would have something to eat.’

The modern distribution of we within the Sinoe community suggests that it is a feature of long standing within LibSE; what is not clear is whether the Sinoe Settlers brought we with them from the US or only adopted it after arriving in Liberia. The same uncertainty regarding provenance within LibSE applies to we as an object pronoun, as in (41): (41)

Our people didn’t learn we how to swim.

4.3.

Prenominal elements: demonstratives

The usual plural demonstratives are these and those (pronounced [di(z)] and [do(z)]). In addition, some upriver speakers use preposed them in place of those, as in (42) and (43): (42)

But all them big meats and thing, they gone.

(43)

Them days we had plenty rice.

At least among younger speakers in Greenville, preposed them marks one as being upriver and, therefore, “country”.

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5.

Relativization and complementation

5.1.

Relativization

LibSE uses the restrictive relative pronouns who, what, and infrequently that. What may be used with either human or non-human nouns. Examples of its use with human nouns are given in (44) and (45). (44)

They were the first immigrant what come out in Liberia.

(45)

Those Morris children what in Monrovia now and myself we grow together.

For nonrestrictive relatives, LibSE uses who, what and infrequently which. While the use of who is confined to human nouns, what and which can be used with either human or non-human nouns. 5.2.

Complementation

The usual complementizer is that: (46)

But our mother told us that he say that he want to come to Liberia to find his people.

With verbs of speaking and communication, say is also used, as in (47) – (50). (47)

a. So I went to the ... hospital and I told the people say, “Well, two months I n’t get my check, and I still working.” b. So I went to the ... hospital and I told the people I say, “Well, two months I n’t get my check, and I still working.”

(48)

He went to Samuel Ross and Samuel Ross promise him say, “O.K, I will take you to the Dutch agent.”

(49)

They went, they d write to the people say, “... “

(50)

If you see the eggplant and pepper in Louisiana, Bluntsville, and Lexington, you will swear say that in the country. ‘... you will swear that you are in the country.’

Arguably swear say has been both lexicalized and frozen. Thus, it seems unlikely that a speaker would use swear without say, e.g. you will swear that in the country, or would inflect swear, e.g. You swore say that you were in the country. Sometimes, speakers insert a subject pronoun before say, as in (47b). The structure of (47b) represents a step towards standard English and may occur more often in formal contexts. Speakers can use say to signal a direct quotation, even when the preceding verb is not a verb of saying and when say does not itself have an overt subject, as in (51) and (52):

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They all got there, and they all sit down now say, “Let’s put idea together now.” If you playing in the road and a older person meet you say, “What you doing down here? You better go to you ma,” we fool to retaliate say, “What you got to do with me”? ‘… would we be foolish enough to retaliate and say, “what do you have to do with me?”’

It is possible to use say to signal a direct quotation even when it is not attached to a higher sentence, as in (53) and (54): (53) (54)

6.

In the process of time they got dissatisfy. Say, “Well, our denomination, we can’t let it down.” They come inside, they beg the people. Beg all the civilize people. Say, “We beg yall, we grant arm.” Liberian Settler English in the African American diaspora

In considering the history of African American English, scholars have turned in recent years to examining the language of communities whose founders were African Americans who left the United States in the period between the American Revolution (1775–1781) and the American Civil War (1861–1865). Such studies attempt to extrapolate an earlier stage of African American English, especially AAVE, from the current grammar of the transplanted community. Thus, Poplack and Tagliamonte’s African American English in the diaspora (2001) represents the culmination of more than a decade’s study of the language of the Samaná community in the Dominican Republic and two Afro-Nova Scotian communities in Canada. Poplack and Tagliamonte (2001) and other authors working with them find the language of these varieties to be more similar to white vernaculars than is modern AAVE, leading them to argue both that core features of African American English come from British regional dialects (theirs is a re-invigoration of the anglicist position advocated by McDavid and McDavid [1951]) and also that modern AAVE features that differ from white vernaculars represent a recent divergence. However, others who have studied Samaná English, notably DeBose (1996) and Hannah (1997), do not reach the same conclusion as Poplack and Tagliamonte. The data from the LibSE of Sinoe also push towards a different conclusion, indicating instead that many of the prominently unique features of AAVE are actually features of long standing. Myhill (1995) presented eight features of modern AAVE as putative post-Civil War, i.e. relatively recent, innovations in AAVE: omission of verbal -s; omission of possessive -s; copula absence, specifically is deletion; the use of ain’t for didn’t; the use of be done; the semi-auxiliary come; the auxiliary steady; and stressed been.

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However, Singler (1998b) was able to draw on evidence from LibSE and elsewhere to show that seven of them are not innovations but are instead features that were part of AAVE well before the American Civil War. The following examples illustrate the non-standard features in the list (as opposed to instances where the innovation was the absence of a standard feature): The use of ain’t for didn’t: (55)

I telling you what the old people told me now. Because that one I ain’t see with my own eye.

The use of be done: (56)

You be done crack you palm nut, palm kernel, everything, then you make you palm butter and set it down. ‘(By that time) you would have cracked all your palm kernels, and then you would make your palm butter [a stew made from palm nut pulp] and set it down.’

The semi-auxiliary come (to signal disapproval): (57)

We talking about ending the war, and you come talking about Sinoe Defense Force. You not serious.

The auxiliary steady: (58)

When I go to school, when the teacher beat me, I run, man, I (be) steady halling all the way home. ‘When I went to school, if the teacher beat me, I would run, man, I would be hollering non-stop all the way home.’

The only one of the features on Myhill’s list that Singler (1998b) was not able to locate in LibSE was stressed been. However, subsequent research has shown that the feature is a part of LibSE grammar. There as in AAVE stressed been is used to express temporal remoteness (and extent of duration) or, less frequently, intensity. The use of BÍN (stressed been in Rickford’s [1975] notation) to focus upon a state’s duration can be illustrated with the following set of sentences involving the adjective greedy. In the unmarked case in LibSE, being greedy refers specifically to food. One who is greedy eats too much and, crucially, does not readily share food with others. The interpretations of the sentence were provided by the Rev. Hosea Ellis. (59)

a. He been greedy. ‘Many people know about his greediness.’ b. He BÍN greedy. ‘He has long been known for greed. It’s not just now he started being greedy. Since people got to know him, he has been like that.’

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c. He been GREEDY. ‘He is excessively greedy.’ While (59b) can also emphasize the extent of the subject’s greediness, an intensive sense is more likely to be expressed by (59c). Thus, all eight of the features on Myhill’s list are features of LibSE. In discussing the eight features on Myhill’s list, it is appropriate to separate the positive features, i.e. those that involve a non-standard form, from the negative features, those that involve the absence of a standard form. With the exception of the highly infrequent use of ain’t in place of didn’t, none of the positive features obtain in modern Samaná English (Shana Poplack, p.c.). Inasmuch as the positive features occur in LibSE and AAVE but do not occur in Samaná English, the more parsimonious account is that they are old and Samaná English has either lost them or never had them. Singler (1998a) proposes that the differences between Samaná English and LibSE in their relationship to modern AAVE are to be accounted for in part by differences in provenance between the original settlers of the respective communities, with those who settled in Samaná coming in large part from in and near Philadelphia at a time when Philadelphia was the most important city in the US for free people of color. As noted, the Sinoe Settlers came overwhelmingly from the Lower South of the US. Poplack (2000: 27n) and Poplack and Tagliamonte (2001) disagree with Singler (1998a), but their accounts of the provenance of the Samaná settlers contradict each other. Poplack and Sankoff (1987) appear to have had it right the first time: as the title of their article asserts, the story of Samaná is The Philadelphia Story in the Spanish Caribbean. Certainly, after 175 years it is not provenance of original inhabitants alone that distinguishes the people of Samaná from those of Sinoe. In the case of Samaná there was a British and Jamaican missionary presence that has no analogue in Sinoe; further, extensive intermarriage between the Samaná folk and Methodists from Turks Island and settlement in the late nineteenth century by people from elsewhere in the anglophone Caribbean have also shaped the current character of the community’s language, as Samaná phonology attests. Post-settlement influence in Sinoe is addressed in Section 7. For each of the negative features on Myhill’s list, there is – in addition to the LibSE evidence – North American historical evidence that establishes it as a longstanding AAVE feature. It is noteworthy that the LibSE frequency of these features is measurably greater than the AAVE frequency. This would seem to reflect the fact that, compared with AAVE, LibSE has had far less contact with white vernaculars and with StE over the past 150 years. For the positive features, in every case except the use of ain’t rather than didn’t, the feature has undergone an expansion – either of semantic range, syntactic domain, or simple frequency – in AAVE that has not occurred in LibSE. In sum, the

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features are quite old, but the extended range of their usage within AAVE reflects their ongoing evolution within that variety. There are grammatical elements that persist in LibSE but no longer obtain in AAVE. The copula s – illustrated in (19) and (20) above – and the habitual auxiliary d are two such features. The creation of s´ appears to be the result of recutting, whereby ’s a in a string like he’s a newcomer gets re-analyzed as he s

newcomer. Comparable strings are to be found in Gullah and in the Ex-Slave Recordings (cf. Singler 1991b). A Gullah example is given in (60): (60)

Your daughter-in-law say say you’s a woman. (Gullah; Cunningham 1970: 167)

As discussed in 2.1.2. above, the auxiliary d marks habitual aspect, as in (61) and (62): (61)

They went, they d write to the people say, ... ‘They used to go and write to people and tell them …’

(62)

Some country people d eat it [snake]. But civilize people don't.

As the example in (62) illustrates, d can only occur in the affirmative.

7.

Local influences on LibSE

The post-settlement forces that have affected the LibSE of Sinoe would all seem to involve English itself. This is obvious in terms of forces that might move LibSE closer to StE, but it is also true with reference to those that might pull it away from the standard. Of the forces that might push the LibSE of Sinoe closer to StE, three stand out: the church, the school, and Liberian Settlers from elsewhere. The absence of missionaries in Sinoe has been noted, but even settler clergy were likely to be a force for StE, if not in the vernacular at least in the language used in formal settings such as church services themselves. The influence of schooling is equally evident. Many of the elderly Sinoe Settlers whose speech provided the corpus on which this article is based had had very little formal schooling, some none at all; nonetheless, the importance of education in the Settler community is clear. Finally, Settlers from elsewhere – especially Monrovia – have traditionally possessed greater standing than Sinoenians. Overall, the difference between the LibSE of Sinoe and the LibSE of other Settler communities appears to be quantitative more than qualitative. That is, with few exceptions, the Sinoenians do not use non-standard features that other Settlers do not also use; rather, they use the same non-standard features as other Settlers but they use them far more often. As for the factors and forces that might have moved LibSE further away not only from StE but also AAVE, the primary influence would have been VLE, with in-

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fluence from Niger-Congo languages much more likely to be transmitted through VLE than to affect LibSE directly. A crucial point about the relationship of VLE to LibSE is that, in cases where the two varieties share a feature, it is rarely difficult to determine where the feature originated. (The use of we as a pronominal adjective and an object pronoun, as discussed in 3.2., is an exception.) Establishing a feature’s provenance can be done on the basis of evidence internal to the VLE and LibSE communities as well as by evidence external to Liberia. The auxiliaries d and feni make the point. Among the settlers in Sinoe, while d is used by virtually all speakers, it is used more by speakers in the upriver settlements, i.e. more by the hard-core settlers. The opposite holds true for feni; its use in Sinoe is virtually confined to settlers who either live or work in Greenville, the county headquarters, i.e. the settlers with the most contact with VLE speakers. In contrast, a study of VLE speakers in Monrovia shows the use of d among older speakers to be confined to individuals whose ethnic group has historically had extensive contact with the settlers. The VLE speakers in Monrovia showed no comparable distributional restrictions in the use of feni. Thus, the evidence inside Liberia points to settler provenance for d and VLE provenance for feni. The external evidence external to Liberia corroborates the evidence internal to it. There are Western Hemisphere varieties which use d (or a form very close to it in shape) to mark imperfective aspect, among them Gullah (Hopkins 1994) and Anguillian English (Williams 2003). However, no Western Hemisphere varieties of which I am aware have a completive auxiliary based on finish. In contrast, there are no West African varieties outside of Liberia that have an auxiliary that is both phonologically and semantically similar to dO, and clause-final finish occurs in both Kru Pidgin English (Singler 1990) and Nigerian Pidgin English (Faraclas, this volume). I have argued that, for the features that LibSE and VLE share, one can determine which of the two varieties had the feature first. At the same time, I acknowledge that my discussion of sources of influence upon LibSE has not taken into account the potential consequences of internal change for the variety.

8.

The future of Liberian Settler English

The civil war that began in Liberia in 1989 has yet to be resolved. Until it is, the future of LibSE remains uncertain. Still, given the central role of ethnicity in defining a Liberian’s identity, the distinctiveness of the Settler ethnic group (relative to Liberia’s indigenous ethnic groups), and the role of language in reinforcing that distinctiveness, there seems little reason to predict that Settler speech will be absorbed into a homogeneous Liberian English. LibSE seems likely to continue to exist for time indefinite.

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Less certain, however, is the fate of LibSE at its most highly distinctive and conservative, e.g. the variety spoken by elderly Settlers in the upriver settlements of Sinoe County. In the late 1980’s it was still the case that Settler children living in an upriver settlement like Louisiana and attending elementary school there were acquiring the conservative dialect. Since then, however, civil war has devastated the region. If isolated Settler enclaves like the upriver settlements of Sinoe County cease to exist, then the survival of unassimilated varieties of LibSE is likely to be threatened. * A National Science Foundation grant and a National Endowment for the Humanities summer stipend made possible my research on the LibSE of Sinoe. I am grateful to the Rev. D. Hosea Ellis for his assistance throughout. I wish to thank the older heads of the Settler community in Sinoe County for allowing Hosea and me to carry out sociolinguistic interviews with them. I am grateful to the late Missouri Montgomery for her friendship, her generosity, and her wisdom. I count myself fortunate to have the ongoing advice of the Rev. Charles Bailey, Nora Jones, and the Rev. Emmanuel Hodges. Peter Roberts Toe and Comfort Swen Toe facilitated my research in Sinoe. Samson Tiklo, John Mason, David Peewee, Dubel Nyankun, Tinisi Saytue, Boakai Zoludua, Tamba Mayson, and many others have assisted me in my work on Liberian English more generally.

Selected references Please consult the General references for titles mentioned in the text but not included in the references below. For a full bibliography see the accompanying CDROM. Cunningham, Irma A. E. 1970 A syntactic analysis of Sea Island Creole (“Gullah”). Ph.D. dissertation, University of Michigan, Dearborn. DeBose, Charles E. 1996 Question formation in Samaná English. Paper presented at NWAVE 25, the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Hannah, Dawn 1997 Copula absence in Samaná English: implications for research on the linguistic history of African-American Vernacular English. American Speech 72: 339– 372. Hopkins, Tometro 1994 Variation in the use of the auxiliary verb da in contemporary Gullah. In: Michael Montgomery (ed.), The crucible of Carolina: Essays in the development of Gullah language and culture, 60–86. Athens: University of Georgia Press Labov, William 1969 Contraction, deletion, and inherent variability of the English copula. Language 45: 714–62.

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McDavid, Raven I. and Virginia G. McDavid 1951 The relationship of the speech of American Negroes to the speech of whites. American Speech 26: 3–17. Myhill, John 1995 The use of features of present-day AAVE in the ex-slave recordings. American Speech 70: 115–147. Poplack, Shana and Sankoff, David 1987 The Philadelphia story in the Spanish Caribbean. American Speech 62: 291– 314. Poplack, Shana and Sali Tagliamonte 2001 African American English in the diaspora. Malden, Massachusetts: Blackwell. Poplack, Shana (ed.) 2000 The English History of African American English. Malden, Massachusetts: Blackwell. Rickford, John R. 1975 Carrying the new wave into syntax: the case of Black English been. In: Ralph W. Fasold and Roger W. Shuy (eds.), Analyzing Variation in the Form and Use of Language, 162–183. Washington: Georgetown University Press. Romaine, Suzanne 1982 Socio-historical Linguistics: Its Status and Methodology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Singler, John Victor 1984 Variation in tense-aspect-modality in Liberian English. Ph.D. dissertation, University of California, Los Angeles. 1987 Where did Liberian English na come from? English World-Wide 8: 69–95. 1990 The impact of decreolization upon TMA: tenselessness, mood, and aspect in Kru Pidgin English. In: John Victor Singler (ed.), Pidgin and creole tensemood-aspect systems, 203–230. (Creole Language Library, 6.) Amsterdam/ Philadelphia: Benjamins. 1991a Copula variation in Liberian Settler English and American Black English. In: Walter F. Edwards and Donald Winford (eds.), 129–164. 1991b Liberian Settler English and the ex-slave recordings. In: Guy Bailey, Natalie Maynor, and Patricia Cukor-Avila (eds.), 249–274. 1993 The Liberian Settler English copula revisited. Paper presented at NWAVE 23, University of Ottawa. 1998a The African-American diaspora: who were the dispersed? Paper presented at the NWAVE 28, University of Georgia 1998b What’s not new in AAVE. American Speech 73: 227–256. Williams, Jeffrey P. 2003 The establishment and perpetuation of anglophone white enclave communities in the Eastern Caribbean: the case of Island Harbour, Anguilla. In: Michael Aceto and Jeffrey P. William (eds.), Anglophone Varieties of the Eastern Caribbean, 95–119. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins.

Cameroon English: morphology and syntax Paul Mbangwana

1.

Introduction

As English changes in time and space among native speakers, it also takes many twists and turns in the countries that have adopted it as a second or foreign language. Sala (2003: 66) describes how fossilized errors are recycled and given a wider spread from generation to generation in Cameroon English (CamE). While purists view this process in terms of falling standards, most linguists regard it as an indigenization process according to which “adopted” English is being “adapted” to suit the expressive needs of its users. All users of English, especially those in the English as a second language (SL) or English as a foreign language (FL) situation, seek to build a convenient medium of communication that is simple and economical. When English is transplanted, it acculturates to the new environment in all aspects (lexis, semantics, syntax, etc). In this process it acquires multicultural identities. This study of CamE will focus on the ways in which English has become indigenised syntactically. The data used in this overview come from previous published research work, literary production, and jottings by myself from a body of live speeches and conversations. Sala (2003: 341) suggests that there are two varieties of CamE: (a) the imposed (exonormative) variety which hardly goes out of the classroom setting that engenders and regulates it, and (b) the innovative (indigenised) variety which is acquired in the greater English-using community showing a great deal of creativity and acculturation to local norms. This innovative variety is the more significant site of research for CamE. Since syntax relates grammar to meaning by its particular arrangement of words, it is of interest to examine how British English (BrE) and CamE contrast. The adaptation of English in SL and FL situations is usually toward simpler forms. This study examines the various processes and strategies which render CamE convenient, simpler and practically economical in terms of structural levelling-out. Though CamE users have learnt how to build sentences using the rule-governed patterns of clause formation in formal situations, they are still observed to be less competent in actual use. However, even their innovative performance can be shown to be relatively systematic and amenable to close syntactic analysis. For example, as I will discuss in section 3.5., CamE shows a predilection for sentences replete with subordinate clause structures that avoid prepositions in post-movement positions. It also fa-

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vours patterns that may be considered redundant in Standard English (StE). Sala (2003) reminds us that speakers of CamE should not be considered to be learners of BrE but speakers of a particular brand of English. They learnt the English language and in the course of doing so, they put their emblem on it, that is, they moulded it to fit their needs and ways. (Sala 2003: 338)

CamE has been studied by Todd (1982), Mbangwana (1992; 2002), Simo Bobda (1994) and Sala (2003), amongst others. These studies have identified how certain structures depart from the BrE prototype. Some of these studies point to the low status of the innovations in CamE. However, Sala (2003: 112) takes a more descriptive approach by examining CamE syntax with the aim of understanding the rules and processes involved in structural simplification. These processes are robust, productive and predictable; hence they give evidence of a certain degree of competence underlying their users’ creativity. 2.

Idioms in CamE creative writing

Sala (2003) identifies many instances of usage which might appear redundant as writers attempt to recreate the idiom of the Cameroonian mother tongues. Examples include cry a loud cry, smile a dry smile, walk on foot, seeing with one’s eyes, eat with ones’s mouth, laugh a terrible laughter, die a good death. Further examples from creative writers include the following: (1)

You (Achiebefuo) have failed me and so I do not have the ears to listen to you at all. ‘Achiebefuo, you have failed me and so I cannot listen to you at all.’ (Asong, The Crown of Thorns [1995: 14])

(2)

Mbamu stopped suddenly where two paths crossed and sniffed the air. ‘Mbamu stopped suddenly where two paths crossed, and sniffed.’ (Eba Nsanda, The Good Foot [1984: 7])

(3)

Women were to supply potatoes and food for the men who carried the luggage of the White Man of God. How can a man lie to the mother of his children, and to his children and himself? ‘Women were to supply food to the carriers of the White Man of God. How can a man lie to his wife, his children and to himself?’ (Jumbam, The W