Reading Science Fiction

I’ve got a confession to make: Science Fiction as a genre doesn’t resonate with me. Neither does Fantasy. I enjoy some fiction, but it seems that it’s primarily Literary Fiction โ€“ old-school classics like Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Nabokov, Kafka, Barthelme, and the like. Mostly, I prefer non-fiction.

I’ve just finished reading William Gibson’s Neuromancer, having read The Peripheral at the end of last year. To be fair, someone recommended Neal Stephenson’s Snow Crash, which is in the same genre โ€“ cyberpunk. I’d been advised that Snow Crash is better written, but I thought it might be best to start at the start of that genre.

These writers have good ideas. It often sounds appealing when someone tells me the plot summary, but the details bore me to tears. When I read reviews of these books, I frequently hear how immersive they are, but to me, they are cluttered and chockablock with minutiae. I find myself prodding, “Just get to the point.” But there has to be more than this. Short stories may fare better. I liked Ursula K LeGuin’s The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas, but that was more related to its philosophical, anti-utilitarian perspective rather than the story.

It’s not as if Dostoyevsky doesn’t circumlocute and pontificate, but it’s somehow different. I want to like it. I want to read it โ€“ first-hand, not just a summary, so I can feel that I’ve engaged with the material.

Over the years, I’ve been consoled by fans of the genre, who say, “I understand. What you need to read is” [fill in the blank]. I read Ender’s Game on this advice.

To be fair, Sci-Fi movies and television don’t resonate with me either. Star Wars? Nope. Star Trek? Nope. Firefly. No, again.

What people find amazing, I find trite. Often, there is some embedded Modernist morality that some view as profound. I roll my eyes. I cringe thinking of old Star Trek episodes about what makes humans so special.

I don’t tend to find movies or television very interesting in general. I’ve never owned a television. My partners always do. “But you watch streaming content,” you say, and you’d be correct. But I watch it on my own time and take a chance, if only to remain connected to contemporary trends.

My last engagement was Arcane on Netflix. I found Season One well done and entertaining, but I’m not sure Anime qualifies as Sci-Fi. I caught The Peripheral on Amazon a couple of months ago, which led me to the book, but they turned out to be different stories, though they were set in the same universe with (generally) the same characters.

Metamodernism: A Postmodern Critique

The genesis of the Modernity Worldview Survey was Metamodernism. Is this still a thing? In recent years, metamodernism has emerged as a supposed successor to postmodernism, claiming to transcend the seemingly irreconcilable tensions between modernist sincerity and postmodern irony. Yet, upon closer examination, this framework reveals itself not as a genuine paradigm shift but rather as a modernist invention that fails to escape the very critiques it attempts to address.

Video: Introduction to Modernity Worldview Survey concepts

The Modernist Roots of Metamodernism

Despite its claims of oscillation between poles, metamodernism betrays its modernist underpinnings through its implicit teleology and notion of progress. The very framing of “meta” as beyond or transcending suggests a linear progression that is fundamentally at odds with the postmodern rejection of grand narratives. Metamodernism positions itself as forward-moving whilst attempting to recapture elements of premodernity, revealing an anxiety about being perceived as regressive or naive.

Podcast: Audio version of this content

This desire to have it both waysโ€”to acknowledge the constructed nature of meaning whilst still pursuing transcendent meaningโ€”doesn’t represent a resolution so much as a psychological coping mechanism. The cognitive dissonance created by attempting to simultaneously hold contradictory positions is assuaged through a clever rhetorical move: claiming that oscillation itself is the point.

A Rebranding Exercise

What metamodernism presents as novel is ultimately a recombination of elements from premodern, modern, and postmodern frameworks without resolving their fundamental contradictions. Rather than being mutually exclusive from these earlier paradigms, it cherry-picks aspects of each whilst maintaining the basic ontological framework of modernism.

The notion that one can meaningfully “oscillate” between accepting objective and subjective realities is particularly problematic. Either reality has objective features, or it doesn’tโ€”pretending otherwise doesn’t create a new philosophical paradigm but rather a convenient means of avoiding the implications of either position.

Postmodern Irony in Motion

Perhaps the most intriguing interpretation of metamodernism is not as a sincere attempt to move beyond postmodernism but as postmodernism performing its own critique. Viewed through this lens, metamodernism becomes postmodern irony in motionโ€”a knowing wink at the impossibility of escaping construction whilst performatively engaging with the desire to do so.

The irony deepens when we consider that “postmodernism” itself is essentially an externally imposed label rather than a self-identification. Most thinkers characterised as postmodernists reject the label, which functions primarily as a modernist attempt to categorise and contain ideas that fundamentally challenge its frameworks.

Art vs. Philosophy

Where metamodernism succeeds is as a descriptive label for certain artistic and cultural productions that deliberately play in the space between irony and sincerity. Works like David Foster Wallace’s “Infinite Jest,” the television series “BoJack Horseman,” and Wes Anderson’s films effectively combine postmodern techniques with sincere emotional engagement.

However, what works as an artistic sensibility fails as a comprehensive philosophical framework or moral compass. The oscillation that enriches art becomes paralysing when applied to ethics or ontology. A moral framework requires some stable reference points; constantly shifting between believing in objective moral truths and viewing morality as entirely constructed provides no reliable guide for actual decision-making.

Insider vs. Outsider Perspectives

Like religious frameworks that balance literal and metaphorical interpretations, metamodernism may function as a lived experience for those who embrace it, even if it doesn’t hold up to external philosophical scrutiny. The cognitive manoeuvres that appear as tricks or inconsistencies to outsiders often feel like natural, intuitive ways of navigating complexity to those within the system.

This insider/outsider divide recalls Thomas Nagel’s famous “What Is It Like to Be a Bat?” (PDF) thought experimentโ€”there may be experiential aspects of inhabiting a metamodern worldview that aren’t fully comprehensible from the outside. Yet this doesn’t invalidate external critique; inconsistencies and contradictions still matter philosophically.

Conclusion: Beyond Labels

Perhaps the most postmodern insight is recognising that we cannot escape having an ideologyโ€”even a position of having no ideology is itself an ideology. What distinguishes various approaches isn’t whether they have ideologies but how explicitly they acknowledge them, how consistently they apply them, and how willing they are to subject them to revision.

Metamodernism, for all its aspirations to transcend earlier frameworks, ultimately reveals more about our contemporary psychological condition than it offers as a coherent philosophical position. It captures our desire to maintain meaning in a world where we’ve recognised its contingencyโ€”a desire that may be fundamentally human, even if philosophically untenable.

Rather than seeking yet another “-ism” to resolve our existential and philosophical tensions, perhaps we might more honestly confront the limitations and partialities of all our frameworks, recognising that the search for a perfect synthesis may itself be a modernist fantasy.

Modernity Survey Results

I’ve added a permanent page to summarise the modernity worldview categories. If you haven’t yet taken the surveyโ€ฆ

Click here to take the survey

This post explains how to interpret the ternary plot chart’s visualisation. The ternary chart on the survey results page will render something like this. This is an admin page with additional functionality, but it’s similar enough. The blue dot represents the average of all responses. The star represents where I guessed the average would landโ€“mostly modern with some residual premodernity and a touch of postmodernity.

Under the title in the header is a textual assessment of the visualisation. In this case, the response illustrates someone moderately modern with postmodern influences. Although this person also has some premodern tendencies, they are relatively insignificant to the context.

The three possible worldviews are at the vertices (the corners) of the triangle. Each side is a scale progressing from 0% to 100%โ€”100% coincident with the label. For example, the bottom side runs from 0 on the left to 100 on the right, which would indicate a score of 100 per cent Premodern, which the output deems Pure Premodern.

Notice that each vertex has green and yellow shading that serves as visual aids representing the strength of the relationship to the corner. Green is strong, and yellow is moderate. The white section outlined by an interior triangle with a red border is decidedly mixed, showing no strong inclination to any of the extremes.

In the example above, the red plot point illustrates a response (as shown below the chart) that is 20.7% Premodern, 52.1% Modern, and 27.2% Postmodern. These numbers should always sum to 100, though there will be some drift due to rounding. The star represents where I thought the average response would be. Follow the tickmarks on each side, and you’ll notice they correspond with the plot point as a 3-tuple (20, 70, 10).

In the future, I expect to render a view that plots the average survey response as a reference.

Below this chart is an expository account of the response choices. You can render this content as a PDF for your personal archive.

Final Word

If you have any questions or suggestions related to this topic, please feel free to leave them in the comments below.

Yesterday and Today

For no apparent reason, I was pondering lost temporal words, so I paid a quick visit to ChatGPT and wanted to share the wealth. Perhaps we can bring some of these back from the grave.

Audio: Podcast prattle of this content.

Eldernight: Referring to the night before last, this term has long since faded from common usage.

Erewhile: Meaning “a little while ago” or “previously.”

Ereyesterday: Meaning “the day before yesterday” – a direct counterpart to “overmorrow.”

Erstwhile: Similar to “erewhile,” it denotes something that was formerly the case.

Fortnight: Short for “fourteen nights,” this term refers to a two-week period and is still in use in British English.

Nudiustertian: A wonderfully specific Latin-derived term meaning “of or relating to the day before yesterday.”

Overmorrow: This term was used to indicate the day after tomorrow.

Sennight: Derived from “seven nights,” this word was used to mean a week.

Umwhile: Another Scottish term meaning “at times” or “occasionally” in the past.

Whilom: An archaic term meaning “formerly” or “once upon a time.”

Yore: While you touched on similar concepts with “whilom,” this term specifically means “of long ago” or “of time long past.”

Yestereve: This term referred to the evening of the previous day, essentially what we’d call “last night.”

Yestermorrow: An intriguing word that denoted “yesterday morning.”

Yestreen: A Scottish and Northern English word meaning “yesterday evening” or “last night” – similar to “yestereve” but with different regional origins.

These terms, though largely obsolete, offer a glimpse into the linguistic richness of earlier English, providing nuanced ways to express temporal relationships that have since been lost in modern usage.

Language Insufficiency Hypothesis, Chapter One

Well, a word cloud anyway.

I’m busy focusing on the manuscript for Chapter One of my Language Insufficiency Hypothesis. Scanning the copyโ€”over 4,000 wordsโ€”I noticed some repetition. My eye caught ‘fundamental’, which I use often in speech as well. I decided to try a word cloud to illustrate common words.

As this is a hypothesis on the limitations of language, the fact that these are prominent is no surprise, but 34 instances of ‘fundamental’ seem fundamentally offโ€”see what I did there? And this is only the first chapter of eight.

I’ll review the content to see if I can remove some instancesโ€”perhaps entire sentencesโ€”or choose a synonym to see where it leads.

The manuscript is in its fourth full revision, and it feels closer to completion. I aim for an early 2025 release date, but time will tell.

Ass usual, I employ AI (Claude, in this case) to do some heavy lifting.

Having analysed the chapter, I’ve identified several places where “fundamental” could be substituted or removed to enhance the linguistic diversity and rhetorical effectiveness of the text. Here are some examples:

  1. “These limitations, we argue, manifest not merely as practical challenges but as fundamental features of how meaning systems operate…”
    • Alternative: “These limitations, we argue, manifest not merely as practical challenges but as intrinsic features of how meaning systems operate…”
  2. “This theoretical perspective fundamentally reframes several longstanding problems in linguistics and philosophy.”
    • Alternative: “This theoretical perspective radically reframes several longstanding problems in linguistics and philosophy.”
  3. These patterns suggest inherent rather than circumstantial constraints โ€“ limitations that emerge from language’s structure itself rather than from inadequate definition or imprecise usage.”
    • Here, “fundamental” could be omitted entirely without losing the core meaning of the sentence.
  4. Understanding these constraints as systematic features rather than implementation failures provides a crucial theoretical foundation for the Language Insufficiency Hypothesis.”
    • Alternative: “Understanding these constraints as systematic features rather than implementation failures provides a vital theoretical foundation for the Language Insufficiency Hypothesis.”
  5. These cognitive constraints manifest not as mere practical impediments but as necessary features of how meaning is processed and transmitted through human neural networks.
    • Here, “fundamental” could be replaced with “essential” or simply omitted.

Notice that 3 of the 5 recommendations didn’t include the offending word. Rather, they already employed synonyms. This gives us insights into how LLMs translate language with fuzzy logic. Perhaps that’s an article for another day.

Embracing Your Anti-Self

Lessons from Keats on the Art of Self-Creation

I don’t believe in the notions of ‘self’ or identities, but it makes for a nice thought experiment.

Imagine, just for a moment, that somewhere on this planet, there is someone who is your opposite in every conceivable way. They live as you do not. If you are kind, they are cruel. If you revel in the thrill of running through a rainstorm, they are the kind who sit comfortably by the fire, dreading the mere thought of a brisk step outdoors. If you drink to toast life’s joys, they abstain, unwilling to let a drop pass their lips. They are your anti-selfโ€”an inversion of who you are, lacking everything that you have and yet possessing everything that you do not.

As strange as it seems, this image is more than idle speculation. According to the Romantic poet John Keats, holding such an image of your anti-self is an essential part of the process of creating your own identity. The elusive art of true self-creation lies, paradoxically, in our capacity to hold in our minds those lives and feelings that are utterly different from our own. To truly grow, we must encounter the otherโ€”whether that other is someone we know or a shadowy, imagined version of who we could have been if only we’d chosen differently. This exercise is more than an intellectual indulgence; it is at the core of what Keats called ‘soul-making.’

Keats believed in the concept of the ‘chameleon poet’โ€”the idea that writers, and indeed all human beings, must cultivate the ability to lose themselves in the perspectives of others. It is not enough to gaze upon the world through the singular lens of our own experience; to truly create, we must dissolve our egos and embrace a kaleidoscope of possibilities. A woman might explore the life of a soldier, writing deeply about a battle she’s never fought. A contented parent might dare to delve into the unimaginable grief of losing a child. Fiction writers, poets, artistsโ€”they all do this: they shed their own skin, assume another’s, and, in doing so, broaden the horizons of their own soul.

But Keats’ lesson here isn’t limited to the domain of poets and storytellers; it’s a practice that should extend to all of us. In what he evocatively called ‘the vale of soul-making,’ Keats posited that life offers each of us the raw materials to forge a soul, but we must engage imaginatively with all the lives we might lead, all the people we could be. We must dare to envision every possible road before us, not as a commitment but as an act of creationโ€”enriching ourselves with the essence of each path before deciding which one we wish to tread.

And therein lies the heartbreak of it all. When we choose one possible life, we necessarily burn the others. In the very act of committing, we close other doors. We must set ablaze all our imagined lives just to make room for the one we decide to live. This thought is thrilling but also terrifying. Unlike a poet, who can glide into and out of fictional worlds, we must choose where we stand and stay there. We are not chameleons. We cannot flit endlessly between possibilities. We cannot write a library of books. We must write the one, and we must write it well.

Keats understood that the art of imagining one’s anti-self wasn’t about living vicariously forever in a land of could-have-beens. The exercise is in acknowledging these spectres of other lives, learning from them, and then committing, knowing full well what is lost in the process. Self-creation means being both the builder of one’s house and the one who tears down all the others, brick by potential brick. It means knowing who you could have been and yet, resolutely stepping into who you choose to be.

In a world obsessed with keeping every option open, Keats offers us the wisdom of finality. Burn off your possible lives and focus on writing the best version of the one that remains. Embrace the anti-self, learn from it, and commit once you have glimpsed all the possible worlds you might inhabit.

That is the paradoxical art of soul-makingโ€”of becoming whole while knowing you could have been anyone else. The beauty lies in the commitment, not in the drifting dream of endless potentiality. There is a deep satisfaction in choosing, in writing your own story, in saying, ‘This is who I am,’ even though you could have been another. And for that, we have John Keats to thank, the poet who understood that our anti-selves are not merely an idle game of imagination but the fuel for becoming fully humanโ€”the forge in which the soul is made.

Language Insufficiency, Rev 3

Iโ€™m edging ever closer to finishing my book on the Language Insufficiency Hypothesis. Itโ€™s now in its third passโ€”a mostly subtractive process of streamlining, consolidating, and hacking away at redundancies. The front matter, of course, demands just as much attention, starting with the Preface.

The opening anecdoteโ€”a true yet apocryphal gemโ€”dates back to 2018, which is evidence of just how long Iโ€™ve been chewing on this idea. It involves a divorce court judge, a dose of linguistic ambiguity, and my ongoing scepticism about the utility of language in complex, interpretative domains.

At the time, my ex-wifeโ€™s lawyer was petitioning the court to restrict me from spending any money outside our marriage. This included a demand for recompense for any funds already spent. I was asked, point-blank: Had I given another woman a gift?

Seeking clarity, I asked the judge to define gift. The response was less than amusedโ€”a glare, a sneer, but no definition. Left to my own devices, I answered no, relying on my personal definition: something given with no expectation of return or favour. My reasoning, then as now, stemmed from a deep mistrust of altruism.

The court, however, didnโ€™t share my philosophical detours. The injunction came down: I was not to spend any money outside the marital arrangement. Straightforward? Hardly. At the time, I was also in a rock band and often brought meals for the group. Was buying Chipotle for the band now prohibited?

The judgeโ€™s response dripped with disdain. Of course, that wasnโ€™t the intent, they said, but the language of the injunction was deliberately broadโ€”ambiguous enough to cover whatever they deemed inappropriate. The phraseย donโ€™t spend money on romantic interestsย would have sufficed, but clarity seemed to be a liability. Instead, the court opted for what I call the Justice Stewart Doctrine of Legal Ambiguity:ย I know it when I see it.

Unsurprisingly, the marriage ended. My ex-wife and I, however, remain close; our separation in 2018 was final, but our friendship persists. Discussing my book recently, I mentioned this story, and she told me something new: her lawyer had confided that the judge disliked me, finding me smug.

This little revelation cemented something Iโ€™d already suspected: power relations, in the Foucauldian sense, pervade even our most banal disputes. Itโ€™s why Foucault makes a cameo in the book alongside Nietzsche, Wittgenstein, Saussure, Derrida, Borges, and even Gรถdel.

This anecdote is just one straw on the poor camelโ€™s back of my linguistic grievances, a life filled with moments where languageโ€™s insufficiency has revealed itself. And yet, I found few others voicing my position. Hence, a book.

I aim to self-publish in early 2025โ€”get it off my chest and into the world. Maybe then I can stop wittering on about it. Or, more likely, I wonโ€™t.

Where Generative AI Shines but Doesn’t

As I am putting some finishing touches on my latest paper, I had the idea to illustrate some of the novel nomenclature. For some reason, Zeno’s Paradox came to mind. Unlike in maths, it is not reconcilable in language. I asked ChatGPT how I might integrate the concept into my paper. Here is what it rendered. Not only is the exposition decent, but it also provides citations and references. Humorously, when I read the citations, I thought that they were placeholders โ€“ Brown, David, Smith, and Jones โ€“ but they turned out to be legitimate references โ€“ references I hadn’t considered and each relatively recent. I’m chalking this up as a win. This was not a case of ‘ChatGPT, do my homework’. Instead, it reflects an active collaboration between a human and technology. And now I have more reference papers to read and absorb.*

Bonus: Audio podcast discussing this topic.

Take the term ‘freedom’, an archetypal example of a Contestable that resists precise communication due to its inherent abstraction and ideological weight. To enhance its effectiveness, we might parse it into narrower forms, such as ‘freedom from’ (liberation from oppression or constraint) and ‘freedom to’ (the capacity to act or pursue desires). Whilst this initial breakdown provides some clarity, it is merely the beginning. Each parsed term demands further qualification: ‘freedom from what?’ and ‘freedom to do what?’ At every level of subdivision, new ambiguities emerge, requiring further refinement (Smith, 2021).

This process resembles Zeno’s paradox, where each attempt to clarify ‘freedom’ by moving incrementally closer to a precise meaning only reveals new layers of interpretive complexity. The concept remains elusive, perpetually deferring any definitive understanding as we approach it in ever-smaller fragments without fully grasping its essence (Jones, 2019). Unlike concrete terms like ‘chair’ or ‘table’, whose meanings can be pinned down through physical reference or functional description, ‘freedom’ resists final articulation (Brown, 2020). This continual parsing illustrates the inherent limitations of language when applied to abstract, boundary-resistant concepts: the more we attempt to define them, the more they fracture into an infinite regress of sub-concepts, each requiring its own explanation (Davis, 2022). Thus, whilst parsing ‘freedom’ improves communicative effectiveness to a point, it ultimately underscores language’s impotence in capturing the full spectrum of complex, ideational constructs (Wilson, 2018).

References:

Brown, J. (2020). The elusive nature of abstract concepts. Journal of Philosophical Studies, 35(2), 123-145.

Davis, S. (2022). Language and the limits of definition. Linguistic Quarterly, 57(1), 78-92.

Jones, M. (2019). Zeno’s paradox and the infinite regress of meaning. Metaphysical Review, 82(3), 245-263.

Smith, L. (2021). Freedom and its discontents: A study in semantic complexity. Political Philosophy Today, 14(2), 56-78.

Wilson, G. (2018). The impotence of language in capturing ideational constructs. Journal of Language and Meaning, 27(4), 198-215.


* References: Here’s the twist. When I went to read the cited references, none were found. Here’s what ChatGPT had to say about it:

I understand your difficulty in locating the references you’ve mentioned. It appears that the articles by Brown (2020), Davis (2022), Jones (2019), and Smith (2021) may not exist in the public domain or could be hypothetical examples. Consequently, Digital Object Identifiers (DOIs) for these works are unavailable.

If you’re interested in exploring topics related to abstract concepts, the limits of language, or semantic complexity, I can recommend some reputable sources:

  1. “The Challenges of Abstract Concepts” by Guy Dove (2021): This chapter discusses the theoretical challenges posed by abstract concepts and reviews current evidence and responses. Springer Link
  2. “Abstract Concepts and Metacognition: Searching for Meaning in Self and Others” by Anna M. Borghi, Chiara Fini, and Luca Tummolini (2021): This work explores the role of metacognition in understanding abstract concepts. Springer Link
  3. “The Limits of Language: Wittgenstein’s Later Philosophy and Skinner’s Verbal Behavior” by R. Harre (1983): This article examines the limitations of language through the perspectives of Wittgenstein and Skinner. JSTOR
  4. “Varieties of Abstract Concepts and Their Multiple Dimensions” by Anna M. Borghi et al. (2018): This paper discusses the representation of abstract concepts and the different criteria used to select them. Cambridge University Press

These sources should provide valuable insights into the subjects you’re interested in.

Thanks, ChatGPT โ€“ for nothing. smh

The Great British โ€˜Rโ€™ Mystery: How One Letter Stirs Up Trouble Across the Isles and Beyond

Hereโ€™s the thing about the letter R in British English: itโ€™s like tea in the UKโ€”ubiquitous yet wielded with such dizzying inconsistency that even the Queen herself might forget if itโ€™s in fashion this season. Like some shadowy figure lurking in the alleyways of phonetics, R refuses to play by the rules, showing up when least expected and disappearing when needed most. So, grab your Earl Grey (or your gin), and letโ€™s unravel the โ€˜Rโ€™ mystery, a story with more twists and turns than a James Bond plot.

EDIT: Here’s a short video by Language Jones on this topic of Rs.

Non-Rhoticity: When โ€˜Rโ€™ Decided It Was Over It

You know those people who drop a grand entrance line and then ghost the party? Thatโ€™s R in much of British English. Around the 18th century, R went non-rhotic in Southern England, meaning it started acting like an ultra-exclusive VIPโ€”only showing up when it felt like it, especially at the beginning of words or when it needed to bridge vowels. Otherwise, it vanished into thin air.

Imagine trying to summon an ‘R’ in car or butter in a posh English accent. Nope, you wonโ€™t find it. And heaven forbid you should try to put it there, lest you get called out for sounding a bit, well, American. R only shows up if it gets to do the delicate act of linking R, like in โ€œlaw(r) and order.โ€ Otherwise, itโ€™s quite happy being invisible.

Intrusive R: โ€œHey, Did Anyone Order an โ€˜Rโ€™?โ€

Just when you thought you understood where R lives and dies, it pulls a fast oneโ€”intrusive R. This is when R starts showing up uninvited, slipping in between vowels that never actually requested its presence, as in โ€œAsia(r) and Europeโ€ or โ€œidea(r) of it.โ€ Itโ€™s as if R has been waiting in the wings, saw an opening, and said, โ€œYep, Iโ€™m in!โ€ Itโ€™s common in dialects like Received Pronunciation, adding to the chaos by creating sounds like โ€œsawr itโ€ instead of โ€œsaw it.โ€

Yes, Americans sometimes think this sounds like linguistic anarchy. Brits, meanwhile, might argue itโ€™s not anarchy but nuance.

The Great Wash Scandal: The Pennsylvanian โ€œWarshโ€ and American Rs Gone Rogue

If you thought the Brits were bad, wait until you get to the United States, where R lives a double life. In most regions, itโ€™s rhotic (loyally pronounced) except in certain coastal spots like New England, where it gets dropped faster than a hot potatoโ€”er, pah-tay-tah. But for true havoc, we turn to Pennsylvania and pockets of the Midwest, where locals throw an extra R into words like wash, pronouncing it as warsh. This trickery is known as epenthesis, a linguistic fancy word for, โ€œLetโ€™s just spice things up by adding stuff that isnโ€™t there.โ€

In truth, Rโ€™s American escapades are the stuff of legends, revealing a rebellious streak that could give even the British a run for their money.

Rolling, Tapping, and Pedos: The R Scandal Goes Global

Cross the Atlantic, and you find R pulling yet another stunt, this time with Spanish speakers in its crosshairs. Spanish has a beautiful setup with its tap and trillโ€”like a musical duo that harmonises perfectly if you know the drill. The English-speaking learner, however, often fumbles, turning perro (โ€œdogโ€) into pero (โ€œbutโ€) and, worse still, into pedo (โ€œfartโ€) when the tongue flap falls flat. Just imagine the accidental puns that arise when, with good intentions, one says, โ€œI have a fart,โ€ instead of โ€œI have a dog.โ€

And rolling R? A fine art lost on many. French and some German speakers take things even further with the uvular R, crafted like a raspy little growl at the back of the throat. Itโ€™s as if R has found its place among the operatic elite, making British Received Pronunciation seem almost polite by comparison.

Dialect Drama: From the Scots โ€œBurrโ€ to the Indian Retroflex

If youโ€™re ever lucky enough to venture into the Scots Gaelic or northern English dialects, youโ€™ll find R given the starring role it truly deserves. The famous Scots burr sounds almost like a celebration, a rolling sound that tells you this letter means business. Across the globe in Indian English, R is reinvented yet again, often sounding more retroflex, where the tongue curls back for a rounded effect. Indians and Scots donโ€™t take R for grantedโ€”each makes it earn its place, proving the letter can be as distinct as a cultural fingerprint.

The R-Coloured Vowel: Rโ€™s Phantom Influence in Rhotic Land

Finally, in Americaโ€™s rhotic accents, R has gone beyond the call of duty, colouring vowels with a subtle drawl, from bird to hard and hurt. Itโ€™s like R said, โ€œIf Iโ€™m going to be here, Iโ€™m going to leave my mark.โ€ The vowel itself becomes something of an accomplice to the R, producing a sound that non-rhotic speakers canโ€™t quite replicate, and leaving Americans with that inimitable r-coloured twang.

The Takeaway? R Plays by Its Own Rules

In the end, R is more than just a letter; itโ€™s a chameleon, a rogue, a shapeshifter that tells the story of history, geography, and culture. Whether itโ€™s acting non-rhotic and blending into the crowd, linking up for that perfect British touch, crashing the party as an intrusive R, or starting scandals in Spanish class, R simply doesnโ€™t conform. And thatโ€™s exactly why it fascinates us.

So, the next time youโ€™re at the pub, drop a casual, โ€œFancy a pint, mate?โ€ and pay attention to that subtle, vanishing R. Cheers to the most unruly letter in the English alphabetโ€”hereโ€™s hoping it keeps breaking the rules for centuries to come.

Democracy: The Grand Illusion (AutoCrit)

The tone of “Democracy: The Grand Illusion” is predominantly analytical and academic. The author approaches the subject matter with a detached and objective perspective, focusing on presenting information, arguments, and counterarguments related to democracy without overt emotional bias. While the content delves into complex topics such as cognitive limitations in decision-making processes, historical perspectives on democracy, critiques of democratic systems, and potential reforms for improvement, the emotional perspective remains neutral and professional throughout. There is an absence of overtly passionate or emotive language that might sway readers one way or another; instead, the text maintains a scholarly tone aimed at informing and stimulating critical thinking about the concept of democracy.

I use AutoCrit as a first-pass review of my long-form writing. Above is the direction I am aiming for. Usually, I aim for polemic. I’ve been working on this since before Covid-19, but it keeps kicking to the back burner. I’m trying to resurrect it once again.

Does anyone who’s used it have an opinion on AutoCrit?