By David Crystal
Kidnapping, tried assassination, espionage … no longer the solutions you’d anticipate to the query ‘what occurs for those who turn into a linguist?’
But now, reflecting on a protracted and highly winning profession on the vanguard of the sphere of English Language and Linguistics, David Crystal solutions this query and provides us a different glance behind the curtain on the adventures, rewards, demanding situations and pitfalls of his existence in language.
Both an autobiography and a hugely available advent to the sphere of linguistics, Just a word I’m Going Through illuminates and entertains us with its many insights into the ever-fascinating topic of language.
David Crystal is synonymous with language, either as a superb populariser and linguistic pioneer, and his contribution to the sector is remarkable. it is a booklet not only for college students and teachers yet for all fans of language.
For extra approximately David Crystal at Routledge, stopover at: www.routledge.com/textbooks/9780415485746.
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Extra info for Just A Phrase I'm Going Through: My Life in Language
And Father Clark thrust a Mass sheet under my nose. It was the ﬁrst response by the altar server to the opening statement of the priest, at the very beginning of the Latin Mass. ’ As the hyphens suggest, my ﬁrst jerky phonic attempt at a Latin sentence was not likely to have been very accurate; but it was evidently plausible enough for me to be taken on. I learned the Latin in no time, and found myself on show, cassocked up to the throat, within a month. To any Martian observer, my interaction in the opening dialogue with the priest, over some half-a-dozen exchanges, would have seemed totally ﬂuent.
When I peeped round the door I could see him, a mad scientist, his face aglow in the ﬂame of a hissing ﬁre, and I smelled a horrid gassy smell, and he was burning human ﬂesh! I could even see the diﬀerent teeth on his table, spread out before him. I ﬂed, had nightmares, and was never going back there again. But when it was coaxed out of me what had happened, I was taken upstairs to meet this other employee at the surgery. He was the man who made the false teeth. I can’t remember his name now, which is sad, for we became great friends, and he would show me how he made a cast, and how the teeth all ﬁtted into place, and how he could make moulds, and how his bunsen burner worked.
32 Just a phrase I’m going through My mother had been in the kitchen, so she hadn’t heard it. I tried to sing some of it to her, but it didn’t come out right. She had no idea what it might have been. There was only one thing for it: to listen, in the hope that it would turn up again. I can’t remember how long I listened. Every Friday I would tune in religiously to the same programme, not realizing that, having played it once, they weren’t likely to be playing it again – not for some time, anyway.