In 1961, Martin Joos, a linguist at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, wrote "The Five Clocks",
describing five styles or registers of English use. Now, this system hasn't changed since
Joos just stated it, so while it's a good introduction for the lay reader, don't take
it as gospel.
Joos proposed five registers for English: Frozen, Formal, Consultative, Casual and Intimate.
Frozen's easy. That's quotes that are set in stone. For example, from the Bible: "thou
shalt not kill". That's frozen. Formal is what I'm doing now, although I'm deliberately
slipping in occasional casual words and breaks in an effort to build a rapport with you,
the viewer. That's probably not working, but hey, I tried. Consultative is what might happen
in a formal business meeting, or when there's information to transfer: no-one assumes prior
knowledge. Casual is friends down the pub: there are interruptions, in-jokes, and it's
OK if you stumble a lot. And finally, there's Intimate: the private language, including
non-verbal cues, that family members and very close friends build up.
Everyone slips between each of these registers hundreds of times a day, without thinking
about it. We instinctively know which register to use... and on the few times we get it wrong,
it's a recipe for social embarrassment. But what's interesting is that it's not just about
how we talk. It's not just about using "I'm going to" instead of "Imma": it's about all
the words we use.
The most obvious example in English of how registers change language is in the names
for meat. In 1066, the Normans invaded England, and they generally spoke Norman or Picard.
Not that Picard. These were the languages of what is now western France. I'm simplifying
a lot here, but over the next couple centuries, they got merged with Anglo-Saxon to make Anglo-Norman...
which was spoken amongst the gentry and higher social classes, darling. So the people who
were eating meat more often referred to the food on their plate by the Anglo-Norman boef
-- beef -- while those raising the animals referred to them by their Anglo-Saxon name:
cow.
You'll see that all over. The complicated words, the fancy words, the words associated
with prestige and more formal registers -- they're more likely to be of Norman origin, and to
sound French. A smell is Anglo-Saxon; an odour is French. If you order a drink, you're in
Anglo-Saxon. Order a beverage, you're in French. And meanwhile, the Latin and Greek words -- the
words of scholars -- generally appear in more technical registers.
And then, you have swearing. Brilliant, Anglo-Saxon swearing. Some Anglo-Saxon words for body
functions became considered rude, when we had the more refined French or Latin words
that could describe the same thing less coarsely.
So, the posh words are French. The rough words are Anglo-Saxon. And we switch between them
and so many other things without even thinking about it. The seeds of linguistic class warfare
were sown almost a millennium ago.
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