Making Neologisms Work in Speculative Literature

By E. Sedia

Writers like words, and speculative fiction writers in particular like to make them up. The best neologisms are successful enough to cross over from literature to everyday language; "cyberspace" (W. Gibson's Neuromancer) and "robot" (K. Capek's R.U.R.) are just two examples. However, not every made-up word is created equal. This article examines what makes a good neologism in fantasy or science fiction, and how ignoring the basics of science or language development can mutilate a perfectly good story.

Avoiding Shmeerps

A "shmeerp" is just a fancy name for a familiar object, usually intended to provide a sense of the exotic or alien without any work on the writer's part. Many fantasy novels read like this:

"Jenny crossed the arescd plain and looked up into the sky. The swarms of retwals danced through the darkening air, and a low, mournful hooting of tersale reminded her that the night was approaching; packs of hungry syterwi would soon roam the plains."

There are several problems with this passage. The neologisms are difficult to pronounce, and add nothing to the narrative since they do not conjure a tangible image. Moreover, instead of using description, the author relies on strange-sounding words to create a sense of alien landscape. As a result, the reader ends up irritated by authorial laziness rather than entranced by a different world.

Save your neologisms for words that have no translation or cause misunderstandings if mistranslated. Otherwise, use plain English. Overuse of neologisms will result in loss of impact.

Neologisms that Work

Many neologisms in the fantastic literature have become successful enough to make it into dictionaries and everyday language. The following table presents just a few examples and their sources.

Word	Author	Source	Year
Robot	Karel Capek	R.U.R.	1920
Lilliputian	Jonathan Swift	Gulliver's Travels	1726
Muggle	J.K. Rowling	Harry Potter Books	1997

All three neologisms are easy to pronounce and remember, and each of the three denotes a new concept. Before Karel Capek, there was no word for a mechanical person. He gave us one, and we use it gratefully.

Swift's work illustrates another point. Everyone knows the Lilliputians, but what about the race of giants? Remember what they were called? Brobdingnagians. And the race of intelligent horses? Houyhnhnms. These two are so difficult to pronounce, let alone remember how to spell, that it is no wonder that they didn't take. Moreover, Brobdingnagians are not a new concept; giants are familiar to all. But a race of Lilliputians -­ tiny people without any magical properties ­- was new.

Words and Language

The sound of a word is not random. Be it the movement of the lips and tongue, or the sensory experience of saying or reading the word, sounds create certain associations. Even individual letters create certain images; vowels such as "e" or "i" are perceived as being "smaller" than "a" and "o". Even as we read words on a page, we pronounce them in our minds, invoking the memory of how it feels to say the word out loud. As Sokolov (1972) argued, this "muscle sense" is extremely important to pictorial and in verbal thinking. Muscle sense allows us to integrate all of our impressions into one complex whole. Thus, as we read any word, it feels a certain way to us. Some words are perceived as beautiful; others, as ugly.

As Tolkien said in Sauron Defeated, "It is difficult to fit meaning to any given sound-pattern, and even more difficult to fit a sound-pattern to any given meaning. I say fit. I don't mean that you can't assign forms or meanings arbitrarily, as you will. Say, you want a word for sky. Well, call it jibberjabber, or anything else that comes into your head without the exercise of any linguistic taste or art. But that's code-making, not language-building. It is quite another matter to find a relationship, sound plus sense, that satisfies, that is then made durable."

Tolkien's words apply to anyone who is serious about inventing new words, whether they are occasional words sprinkled to add spice to a fantasy word, an involved new language, or a name for a piece of futuristic machinery. There are reasons why some fictional worlds endure and some don't; why some science fiction writing is authentic, and some feels contrived. The words used to build a fictional world do matter.

Many authors use onomatopoeic words ­- words that mimic a natural sound like "crunch" or "slosh". Comic books, for example, are full of onomatopoeia. Often we associate certain sounds with certain visual images. This device is often used in fantasy, where good characters have pleasant-sounding names full of vowels and lilting sounds, and the villains have names that are based on sibilants (think House Slytherin in the Harry Potter Books) or burdened with too many consonants.

Research into sound and its perceived meaning yields somewhat less obvious insights. Kohler (1929) presented his subjects with two shapes (one rounded and one angular) and two made up words ("Takete" and "Maluma"), and asked them to associate each shape with a word. An overwhelming majority said that "Maluma" referred to the rounded shape, and "Takete"­ to the angular one. This consensus held across several different languages, hinting at the universality of the concept.

Sapir (1929) asked research subjects to consider the appropriate name for each of two tables, one large and one small. The words offered were "MIL" and "MAL". 80% of the five hundred subjects surveyed felt that "MAL" represented the larger table and "MIL" the smaller. Again, the pattern held across many different languages and cultures.

Newman (1933) was able to place the vowels on a scale of magnitude from small to large. In general, larger magnitudes were associated with a large oral cavity, a low vocalic resonance and the tongue towards the back of the mouth.

Thus, every word, regardless of its intended meaning by its creator, will evoke a certain response in us.

Creating a language is more complicated than just creating words - there's grammar to think of too. As a result, many authors rely on languages that already exist. The Dune series, for example, uses a language based on Arabic. A Clockwork Orange, by Anthony Burgess, uses slang based on Russian. Basing new words on an established language has the advantage of authenticity; the words feel like connected parts of a larger whole, not an assortment of random sounds.

Other writers go as far as J.R.R. Tolkien, who was responsible for the creation of multiple languages (The Monsters and the Critics). Tolkien was a professor of linguistics, and for him languages came before the story. According to Tolkien, "The making of language and mythology are related functions. Your language construction will breed a mythology" ("A Secret Vice"). His languages are too many and complex to do justice in this short essay, but for a great source on Tolkien's languages, check out Ardalambion.

Scientific terminology

Science fiction strives for verisimilitude, and we cannot just pull a word out of a hat,­ especially when it comes to futuristic technology on Earth. It's important to remember that science has certain rules for naming things.

Most scientific terms are constructed from Latin and Greek words. For example, to name a being with many tails, combine root words:

Latin: multicaudal = "multi" (many) + "cauda-" (tail)

Greek: polyuric = "poly" (many) + "uro" (tail)

However, avoid combining a Latin word with a Greek one - in compound words, both parts should originate in the same language.

There are many good online dictionaries, most notably Latin Dictionary and Grammar Aid, by the University of Notre Dame, that can help translate English to Latin and back. They also have extensive information on declensions and gender.

The standard way of identifying organisms is binomial nomenclature. Each species is described by two words. The first of the two is capitalized, and refers to the organism's genus. The second one, the species descriptor, starts with a lower case letter. Both are italicized or underlined (Tyrannosaurus rex).

When you name a plant or animal, the gender of the species descriptor will usually match the gender of the genus:

Masculine words usually end in "-us" - Quercus, Vulpus, Tyrannosaurus. Vulpus vulpus is the genus and species of the red fox.

Feminine words usually end in "-a" - Nymphea, Urtica, Myrica. Urtica dioica is the proper name of the stinging nettle.

Neuter words usually end in "-um" - Nasturtium, Taraxacum, Taxodium. Taxodium distichum is the proper name of the bald cypress.

The most common exception is when a species is named after a person or place, in which case the name will end in "-ii":

Quercus smithii (an oak tree named after Mr. Smith)

Other exceptions include:

"vulgaris" - a species descriptor which means "common"

"tricolor" - a species descriptor which means "three-colored"

Overall, Latin grammar probably has more exceptions than rules. However, the examples cited above should provide a good starting point for grammatical naming of science fiction creatures.

To make matters more complicated, plant and animal nomenclatures are guided by slightly different codes. The main difference is that the animal code allows tautonymy (using the same name for genus and species, such as Natrix natrix), while the plant code prohibits it.

Enzymes are often named after the substrate they digest. If an enzyme breaks down proteins, it is a protease; if it breaks down nucleic acids, it's a nuclease. Generally, all enzymes end in ­-ase, and the preceding part tells you something about the role they play. For example, helicase unwinds the double helix before DNA replication, RNA polymerase makes RNA, and lipase digests fats.

Conclusion

Neologisms are often necessary and, if done well, enhance the reading experience. However, there are several fundamental rules that need to be observed. First, neologisms are not a requirement. If you don't need them, don't use them. It is possible to paint a futuristic or exotic setting without turning to the crutch of words that mean nothing. Strange gadgets, flora, and fauna are not a necessity for creating a memorable setting. Second, make sure that the words are pronounceable. Third, use them to denote something genuinely unique. If it has two sleeves and a collar, it's a shirt, so it's better to refer to it as such. Finally, if you are making up scientific jargon, make sure that you are not violating any of the existing rules.

Bibliography

Capek, K. R.U.R.

Card, Orson Scott. How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy.

Kohler, W. (1929) Gestalt Psychology. New York: Liveright.

Newman, S. (1933) "Further Experiments in Phonetic Symbolism." American Journal of Psychology. 45: 53.

Sapir, E. (1929) "A study in phonetic symbolism." Journal of Experimental Psychology 12: 225-239.

Sokolov, A. N. (1972) Inner Speech and Thought. New York: Plenum.

Stearn, W. T. Botanical Latin, History, Grammar, Syntax, Terminology and Vocabulary. 4th Edition, 1995, Timber Press.

Swift, J. Gulliver's Travels.

Tolkien, J.R.R. and C. Tolkien. Sauron Defeated: The End of the Third Age (The History of The Lord of the Rings, Part Four) (The History of Middle-Earth - Volume 9).

Tolkien, J.R.R. The Monsters and the Critics.

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E. Sedia lives in Southern New Jersey in the company of one spouse, two cats, two leopard geckos, and many fishes. To date, she has survived drowning in the White Sea, standing in front of a moving tank, and graduate school. Her first novel, According to Crow, is forthcoming in July 2005 from Five Star Books, and her short stories sold to Analog, Poe's Progeny, and Bare Bone, among others. More about her can be found at www.ekaterinasedia.com.