COLUMN: Simplify your meaning – Speak Shakespeare
Ever had your professor stop right in the middle of an intriguing lecture and ask if the class was awake? Ever thought someone on the phone was breaking up and it turned out they weren’t even on a cell phone? Ever had a roommate give you a blank stare when you ask a question as simple as, “Did you pay your part of the utilities bill?”
In all of these situations the grammatical structure may have been clear, the words obvious and double meanings minimal, yet for some reason there is clearly a problem with the communication.
But, why?
Allow me to submit to you a wild theory. The reason we have trouble understanding things is because our language has become too simple.
Too simple, you ask? Yes, I answer.
The way I see it, since our language has evolved to such a rudimentary point, it takes no effort to understand what’s being said. And, without the effort to understand, there is also no effort to process that information, thus creating our current communication chaos.
How then, can we transform a language that has become too simple? To put it simply (irony intended), make it more complicated. Though this proposal may seem easy, I was at a loss of how, exactly, to accomplish it – until I went to my Shakespeare class the other day.
Some of you may cringe at even the hint of the word Shakespeare, but I think it would surprise you how easy it is to comprehend the man. Let’s take, for example, a well known, yet to the ordinary layman, enigmatic phrase from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar: “Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears.”
Now, even though the wording is not forthright, after closer inspection it is pretty clear that Mark Antony may have physically misplaced his ears prior to that scene. As you can see, the difficult language made you pay more attention to its meaning, and thus arrive at true comprehension.
Bearing this in mind, speaking like Shakespeare is my proposed method of improving communication, as it promotes careful deliberation into a person’s exact meaning.
Now, before you count yourself out of this venture because you don’t feel capable of speaking like Shakespeare, allow me to let you in on a little secret: it’s a cinch. The only thing you need to do is throw in words like, “forsooth,” “alas,” “sirrah,” and, “marry,” along with messing up the sentence order.
For example, say you were getting a meal at the Hub, you might say something like this: “Alas, I do not find meatballs in here; Forsooth, give me a discount I appeal.”
Obviously the iambic pentameter and verse is optional, but it is a nice touch.
This Shakespearean transformation might even clear up some language that would seem incomprehensible in any era. For example, this is something you might hear in the engineering building:
ENGINEER 1: How now, tell me what dost thou I entreat?
ENGINEER 2: Genetic algorithms I replete.
OK, maybe it wouldn’t make it more understandable, but at least it doesn’t sound quite as boring as it might without the Shakespeare twist.
Now assuming we do adapt Shakespeare’s vernacular, then we also have to logically assume we are either playing out a tragedy or comedy. Since the type of play where everyone dies at the end only excites funeral businesses, I’ll choose comedy.
And if that’s the case, then I’ll be the first to admit that I am most likely the fool.
Marty Reeder is a senior majoring in history education. Comments can be sent in iambic pentameter to martr@cc.usu.edu