Ever come across a word and think, \u201cWhy would anyone use that?\u201d Ok, most people probably don\u2019t care, but I sometimes find a word so ungainly, so inappropriate to its meaning, or so ill-used that it makes me wonder if the people who came up with it ever hear themselves talk. I\u2019m talking about the musical quality words have, something every poet pays attention to and almost everyone else ignores.<\/p>\n
Yet it\u2019s something even the oblivious respond to. Some words, some phrases, are better remembered than others. This is why poetry was the most effective way to pass on knowledge before the written word. Besides rhythm, poetry has flow \u2013 created by putting words in the best order for ease of speaking or emphasis. It\u2019s why one of the most useful editing techniques is to read your work out loud.<\/p>\n
But this article isn\u2019t about sentence flow, it\u2019s about the visceral chewiness of words. Some words jive with what they mean and others kind of suck. Take the word coruscate<\/a> for example:<\/p>\n <\/p>\n 1. To give forth flashes of light; sparkle and glitter: diamonds coruscating in the candlelight. First off, the second definition is so twee it makes me gag. I mean, who ever thinks of a beautiful melody as \u201ccoruscating?\u201d Coruscate sounds more like a rude interruption at a concert: coughing, walking heavy-heeled, tripping over the drum-set. The word lacks a sense of grace. I\u2019d say it\u2019s even an iffy synonym for sparkling, but it\u2019s possible someone can use it in a sentence that doesn\u2019t make me cringe.<\/p>\n Many words, specifically ones that came from the 18th century efforts to latinize English, have that effect. Instead of flowing off the tongue, they dribble like port from an Edwardian gentleman\u2019s mouth as he drones himself to sleep in an overstuffed wingback chair. They\u2019re words tin-eared Polidori\u2019s use in an effort to sound intellectual, and they\u2019ve fallen into obscurity for a reason \u2013 they\u2019re unrelatable.<\/p>\n Early academics mistook words as platonic manifestations of the pure mind. They failed to realize how words have a physiological component. Even if they don\u2019t describe physical reality, they have a physical feel when you speak. The most famous linguistic experiment is one involving the nonsense words kiki and bouba<\/a>, asking people things like which word means round and which means pointy. Across every culture the answers have been damned near universal. Sharpness or roundness of a word is related to the shape it makes in your mouth.<\/p>\n You know, like in this Monty Python sketch:<\/p>\n
\n2. To exhibit sparkling virtuosity: a flutist whose music coruscated throughout the concert hall.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n