In his snarky and incisive polemic satirizing the American class system, Class, Paul Fussell provides a tour-de-force panorama of what most Americans, especially those marinating in our current postmodern zeitgeist, would never acknowledge in polite company: that although all citizens in this Western democracy are equal under the law, possessing rights to life, liberty, and property, they are nonetheless different and thus unequal, inferior and superior as determined by the myriad attributes that humans can exhibit.
Each of us has attributes constituting our strengths and weaknesses, and we all know this; but the exigencies of postmodernism are such that digressing from a philosophy of egalitarianism containing no nuance is tantamount to oppressive bigotry, tyranny, or the various other insults hurled by unsubtle mudslingers. Eliminating the nuance of an argument in order to reduce the credibility of the arguer is itself a kind of tyranny peculiar to our postmodern era—but that is a matter for another post.
It is in any case undeniable that humans innately recognize difference and inequality, which Paul Fussell affirms in Class, writing that “it’s as if in our heart of hearts we don’t want agglomerations but distinctions. Analysis and separation we find interesting, synthesis boring.”[1] He goes on to relate that human differences in the United States have manifested as a class system whose many divisions arise from domains as different as clothing and property, wealth and language. Categorizing nine distinct classes, he elaborates on what are their hallmarks so that the book unravels into a witty, trenchant, and unabashed reflection of American pretensions and hypocrisies, which are countless, irrational, even lovably human.
But the primary trait of distinction that I shall examine in this post is language, as being both my domain of expertise and a source of passion. To use language well, to be articulate and expressive of topics in which others merely dabble, is to exhibit a measure of power and strength that is always cultivable, and that will enhance experience while providing a formidable arsenal defending against murky thought and argumentation, slander, and outright bullshit. You should equip yourself, I say!
Although the surest repository of articulacy and the development of a “verbal style”—which I intend here as a combination of writing (style proper) and speaking (also called an idiolect in linguistics)—is a thorough and disciplined classical education, I acknowledge that this education has long been a rarity that I myself have not acquired in any traditional sense. The best alternative is thus self-study fueled by quenchless curiosity, access to a library, and the right materials (and a modicum of linguistic talent, which could never hurt).
Bryan A. Garner, in his magisterial usage guide, Garner’s Modern English Usage, writes of the use of language as a telltale indicator of class that “somebody who has shown no interest in language through early adulthood is unlikely to acquire the habit later. And to the extent that language reflects class, one’s class is pretty well set in early adulthood. But there is surely some hope even beyond that point.”[2] This hope is the diligence and attention, buoyed by quenchless curiosity, that can be developed at any age. Of the initial supplementary materials that I myself have used in previous studies, I list the following for the reader’s benefit:
Word Power Made Easy, by Norman Lewis
Word Smart, by The Princeton Review
The Lexicon, by William F. Buckley Jr.
Six Weeks to Words of Power, by Wilfred Funk (an old hat with considerable depth)
I Always Look up the Word “Egregious,” by Maxwell Nurnberg
The Firefly Visual Dictionary, by Jean-Claude Corbeil and Ariane Archambault
These are the minor and supplementary treasures of the new wordsmith looking to deepen his knowledge, but they serve only to deepen and to introduce; their meagerness, their attention only to words as such, make them insufficient for those intending to commit themselves to developing an insurmountable felicity of speech, and a mind nourished and prepared for the world. The vanguard of this effort, requiring more attention and diligence, is as follows:
English Words from Latin and Greek Elements, by Donald M. Ayers and English Words Instructor’s Manual, by R.L. Cherry: This book and the instructor’s manual (a sine-qua-non complement to the book) are beneficial because they provide informative introductions to English derivatives of Latin and Greek, offering a schema of the Indo-European family of languages and digestible chapters of words (and their components or “elements”) deriving from those two languages.
I recommend that the reader use flashcards when learning from the book, organized by chapter, so that as the flashcards grow in number the successive chapters become more assimilable. It may require a number of months to assimilate the contents of the book and its manual, but the effort is worthwhile, bestowing a familiarity with English derivatives of the classical languages and the components that make up many of the so-called “difficult” or polysyllabic words in the English language.
This book and the serviceable companion, Latin for the Illiterati, by Jon R. Stone, serve as the bridgeheads of a deeper dive into studying Latin, beginning with any number of books that are introductory, textbooks that are often used in classrooms. I list here my own recommendation, which is Wheelock’s Latin, a fine and thorough survey of the language focusing on deductive rather than inductive learning strategies (deductive focusing on guiding the learner through an analytical survey of the language emphasizing grammatical rules, declensions, conjugations, etc., and inductive focusing on the inferring of grammatical rules through reading passages and authentic texts). Because it is a deductive textbook containing some 40 chapters and as many discrete lessons, Wheelock’s Latin can become dry, but I nonetheless think it is the surest of the deductive options on the textbook market, and provides at the very least a generous vocabulary with which one can create flashcards (in addition to those of the English Words book).
After studying with this textbook, using it as a repository of vocabulary and grammar and disregarding most of its exercises, I decided to deepen my knowledge of Latin by studying the Lingua Latina series, which one could deem the inductive counterpart of Wheelock’s deductive, classroom strategy. Inductive strategies are suited to courses of self-study because this kind of learning, as opposed to that of the classroom, is self-paced and uniquely hospitable to mindsets that dislike rules; the corollary of this strategy, however, is that the learner must exhibit more discipline here than in the classroom because there are fewer rules and guidelines. Having established the proper self-regulation and discipline, one can dispense with classroom rules and begin an invigorating process of learning.
Begin with the following in the series:
Lingua Latina, Pars 1: Familia Romana, by Hans H. Ørberg
A Companion to Familia Romana, by Jeanne Neumann
Colloquia Personarum, by Hans H. Ørberg
Fabulae Syrae, by Luigi Miraglia
These are the essential components of the series, which is indispensable not only as a guide to learning Latin, but as an inductive tool nourishing an intuition for the syntax of both English and Latin. As an additional deductive tool to be used by the diligent learner, I recommend Henle Latin Grammar, which functions as a lucid and concise grammatical handbook usable as a supplement to the initial deductive strategy of Wheelock’s.
Should one wish to advance beyond the first part of the series, the textbook Roma Aeterna, by the same author, as well as its companion, is available for those persisting in their studies. This book is one that I have not read, because I simply stopped short of it. I thus cannot recommend it here.
Moving beyond the vanguard of this linguistic effort–the English Words books and their Latin supplements–I want to emphasize that my constant objective, implicit rather than explicit or determined as a goal, was never to read Latin fluently, but to provide myself the comparative linguistic groundwork deepening my knowledge of the English language, and my intuitive grasp of its syntax and grammar. Although I have studied modern languages, I have long since realized that Latin is the nourishing language that has enriched the modern English vocabulary with elegant, Latinate compounds providing a counterpoint to the clipped, monosyllabic nature of what is Anglo-Saxon; as an integral component of the many historical influences that the English language has absorbed, it is thus a wellspring of grammatical and syntactical information relatable to English in its modern form.
I would have few qualms stating that Latin is the ancient blueprint requisite to an intuitive and felicitous grasp of the English language, the most important resource of those aspiring to linguistic excellence and the achievement of a subtle, supple, and inimitable verbal style.
This style is infinitely perfectible and, with sufficient educational resources, tends to mature throughout a lifespan; in certain public intellectuals or dignitaries that have since died, I have observed this maturing of verbal style as a product of erudition and a lifelong pursuit of the “life of the mind,” a patient and passionate nourishing of knowledge that never neglects subtlety and aptness, nuance and precision, the bon mot, or the felicity of a moment (be that in writing or in speech).
One such intellectual was William F. Buckley, Jr., whose erudition was impressive but whose ability to use it in the context of a tête-à-tête on Firing Line, his public-affairs show running from 1966-1999, was extraordinary and an undeniable hallmark of a superlative style. However nauseous his occasional smugness, whatever the inadequacies of his body language and person, one cannot deny that his verbal style was refined, developed during decades of reading and learning. His displays were tour-de-force and unique, remaining for all to see on that wonderful repository, YouTube.
Another man exhibiting a superlative verbal style was the late Christopher Hitchens, who as a conversationalist was incomparable, and whose writing style was likewise impressive (but never as impressive).
Proceeding beyond these beacons of the twentieth century, I want to leave off with a few more suggestions functioning as capstones of the many resources that I have mentioned. If one should study and devour these many resources, as febrile and burgeoning an autodidact as I am myself, then the Holy Grail of stylistic resources is in order. Garner’s Modern English Usage is the authoritative guide to the precise and supple use of the English language, and I swallowed it whole over the course of about two years, during which I read daily the digestible entries numbering in the thousands. I still refer to the book when writing, and consider it an indispensable resource in the arsenal of the aspiring stylist.
What I have presupposed in this article is that reading substantial books, books of history and literature and philosophy, bolstered by an authentic curiosity about the world, make up the building blocks of verbal style; a quenchless curiosity not only about language and grammar but about knowledge and ideas developing into passions and areas of mature interest, will always stand the aspirant in good stead. For an undying thirst for the world, developing linguistic ability and verbal style, can also sustain the years of a human life.
Postscript: A bottomless resource benefiting this effort to develop verbal style, Ulysses, by James Joyce, is not to be overlooked. It is the magnum opus of a literary genius, and as such furnishes enough verbal richness to last a lifetime.
