The catarrhine who invented a perpetual motion machine, by dreaming at night and devouring its own dreams through the day.

  • 22 Posts
  • 2.29K Comments
Joined 1 year ago
cake
Cake day: January 12th, 2024

help-circle




  • Portuguese is more conservative on analysis; like, the phonemic inventory doesn’t change that much from Continental Proto-Romance. But once you look at the surface, you find a bunch of weird stuff, like:

    • a general tendency to convert /Cl/ clusters into /Cɾ/; see praia/playa, cravo/clavo, or dialectally *prástico (standard: “plástico”). You typically don’t see this much in Spanish, except in the Caribbean. It’s nowadays stigmatised but still an ongoing process in some dialects (like Caipira).
    • even conservative Portuguese dialects have a tendency to shift to stress timing on quick speech, with vowel reduction and/or elision. On the other hand Spanish typically keeps itself syllable timed, even on quick speech.
    • most intervocalic /l/ and /n/ are gone, except in reborrowings. Some /n/'s got regenerated as /ɲ/, but that’s from a nasal vowel splitting again into oral vowel + nasal consonant. See e.g. cor/color, coroa/corona, boa/buena.
    • the nasal vowels are becoming phonemic, Lombard/French style; in some situations you can’t simply analyse, say, [ẽ] or [ə̃] as /eN/ and /aN/ any more.
    • rhotics. Unlike Spanish, Portuguese never backed /ʃ/ into [x], so there was that “gap” in the phonology that got filled by /r/ instead: [r]→[ʀ ʁ ɦ x χ h], with all intermediate links popping up in some dialect. In the meantime /ɾ/ became [ɾ ɹ ɻ], with [ɻ] trying to split into a third phoneme.

    There’s also a bunch of phenomena that appear in both, but got stigmatised in Portuguese and accepted in Spanish. A good example of that is yeísmo - it does pop up in Portuguese but it’s associated with rural people, and seen as “poor speech”.

    Sorry for the wall of text.



  • I remember a fair bit of my early childhood:

    • My older sister playing school with me. I was three or so. That’s how I learned to read.
    • When my mum taught me about the “little dragons” in our bodies; basically a child-friendly way to teach how sickness works, and how our bodies deal with them.
    • My 4yo birthday. It wasn’t anything special, but I remember jumping all happy across the kitchen.
    • A few times that my father ruined family meal. Making my sister cry, making me cry, whining incessantly about the food, encouraging me to eat the cooked yolk that my mum would use in the dish, this kind of thing.
    • My grandma pouring condensed milk over my chocolate milk, and saying “shh, don’t tell your mum”.
    • Locking my grandpa’s dog inside the basement, and getting gently lectured by him, on how the dog would feel afraid and lonely.
    • My ophthalmologist asking me if I wanted pineapple or strawberry-flavoured eye drops. I was six or so. (More than three decades later, he’s still the one taking care of my eyes.)


  • A few additional ones. I’ll list them in the nominative and then vocative (vocative makes more sense for insults).

    • fungus putridus / funge putride - rotten mushroom. Something/someone worthless. Attested in Plautus.
    • merda / merda - another word for shit. This one is still understood and used by Romance speakers, and depending on the language it’s pronounced almost the same, [mɛɾ.dɐ], so discretion is advised. You can also use it to refer to something that is crap, Martial did this for example.
    • lupa / lupa - she-wolf; slang for prostitute.
    • filius lupae / filī lupae - son of a she-wolf/bitch.
    • uerpus / uerpe - of a penis, showing the glans. When used as a noun it typically refers to either someone who’s shameless / a horny dog or circumcised.
    • stultus / stulte - dumb
    • asinus / asine - donkey
    • scelus / scelus - wicked, heinous
    • luteus - [you’re] filthy. In 2025 that doesn’t seem like a big deal but you’d get yourself killed in Roman times for that.
    • Iuppiter te perdat! - may Jupiter destroy you. Roughly “get damned”.





  • how did we figure out they were there, and which PIE words had them and which ones didn’t?

    Mostly by the effect in the nearby vowels - often, a sound triggers changes in nearby sounds, before being dropped.

    Here’s an example. Greek often shows an initial vowel where other IE languages show none. Like this:

    Greek Sanskrit Latin
    λεύθερος / eleútheros “free” līber “free”
    ρεβος / Érebos “Darkness” रजस् / rájas “darkness”
    στήρ / astḗr “star” स्तृ / stṛ́ stel[la] “star”
    δούς / odoús “tooth” दत् / dát “tooth” dens “tooth”
    ᾰ̓γρός / ăgrós, “field” अज्र / ájra “field” ager “field”

    Disregard for a moment the last line, focus on the first four. Why is Greek showing “random” initial vowels where Sanskrit and Latin have none? There’s no underlying pattern; it’s probably inherited then.

    However, you can’t simply claim that Greek inherited the vowel and the other two lost it, without causing a problem: why didn’t Sanskrit and Latin delete the initial vowel from अज्र / ájra and ager?

    The solution that a linguist called Saussure found to oddities like this was to propose that PIE had three sounds, not directly inherited by the descendants. He called them *ə₁ ə₂ ə₃; nowadays we call them *h₁ h₂ h₃. In that specific environment (word start, before a consonant):

    • Greek: h₁→e, h₂→a, h₃→o.
    • Latin, Sanskrit: get rid of them

    And the initial vowel in the fifth line (that pops up in all four) is actually inherited.

    (The ancestors of those five words are nowadays reconstructed as *h₁lewdʰ-, *h₁régʷos, *h₂stḗr, *h₃dónts, *h₂éǵros. Sure, the fifth one has a laryngeal… but also a vowel, that’s the vowel being inherited by Sanskrit and Latin.)

    That hypothesis also helps in quite a few other situations, like:

    • Why do sometimes a long vowel pops up from nowhere? A: short vowel + laryngeal.
    • If PIE loved triconsonantal roots so bloody much, why do some roots have less consonants than expected? A: a laryngeal got deleted.
    • Where did Sanskrit get those aspirated consonants from? A: from a stop consonant followed by a laryngeal.

    Also, note that, when Hittite was discovered, all that “laryngeals” talk stopped being just a conjecture - because Hittite did preserve at least *h₂ and *h₃, and probably also *h₁ (it depends on how you analyse the cuneiform spelling).



  • Those are placeholders. “We don’t know what this sound is supposed to be, so we plop h+number there and call it a day.” You’ll see some reconstructions using *ə₁ *ə₂ *ə₃ instead, same deal.

    That said, the Anatolian languages (Hittite, Luwian etc. - the whole branch is extinct) preserved a few of those laryngeals; compare for example Latin ⟨ouis⟩ and Hittite ⟨𒇻𒅖⟩ ḫāwis, from PIE *h₂ówis (sheep). Since Anatolian split way before the other languages, this makes me wonder if they weren’t vocalised already in Late Proto-Indo-European.



  • There’s a bunch of guesses on how *h₁ *h₂ and *h₃ were pronounced in this Wikipedia page. They’re usually defined by their effect in child languages though, so it’s possible that some of those were actually multiple sounds.

    For *h₃ you’ll often see values like [ɣʷ] or [ʁʷ]; a labialised consonant (to explain why it often turns nearby vowels into [o] ) and voiced (as there are some claims that it voices nearby consonants, mostly Cowgill’s Law)

    My personal guess for *h₃ is completely heterodox, [ɸ]~[β]. I think that it’s directly associated with *b being so uncommon in PIE.