Listening to silence in the dance of language
It’s no secret that English is not a phonetic language. How you spell a word has little connection with how you pronounce it.
It’s no secret that English is not a phonetic language. How you spell a word has little connection with how you pronounce it. That’s why a spelling test can be formidable. But I had no idea how often letters of the English alphabet are silent or redundant in the spelling of the simplest words of normal everyday use. You can probably find examples for almost every letter. I’ll come to the few exceptions later.
As a document I’ve discovered on the net says, “letters persist in words despite not playing any discernable role in the word’s pronunciation”. Amongst the most obvious examples are b and g. Most silent bs come at the end of words and usually after m: bomb, climb, comb, crumb, dumb, lamb, limb, numb, plumb, thumb and tomb. In the case of g it’s often before an n: gnarl, gnash, gnat, gnaw, gnostic, gnu. But as sign indicates it doesn’t have to be at the start. Indeed, as you can see from high, though and through it can often be at the end before an h.
Those of you who know will be aware that k is another misleading alphabet. The Lord alone knows what role it plays in knee, knife, knight, knit, knob, knock, knot, knuckle. But when it comes to p, I suspect it was purely designed to confound. It’s silent before n in pneumonia and pneumatic and before s in psalm, psyche and psychology. But what’s it doing in coup, receipt, and comptroller?
N it seems doesn’t like m when it comes after it, as it does in autumn, damn, hymn, limn, solemn. It hides in silence. That also seems to be the case with w and r. When the former precedes the latter, it defers to the strength of r.
Here are a few examples: wrack, wraith, wrangle wrap, wreath, wren, wrench, wrestle, wrinkle, wrist, writ, write, wrong, wrought. Of course, w can be silent on other occasions too such as answer, sword, two and who. Ah well — but there you can hear it!
Even some of the strongest sounding alphabets — which many of us needlessly overstress — become inaudible on occasion. T is an example. You can’t hear it in ballet, castle, listen and most certainly not in whistle. Not surprisingly, much the same is true of d. After all, it sounds so much like t. But it’s missing when you pronounce handkerchief and handsome. Even when you speak those words on a wednesday!
Now Professor Higgins may have had a fondness for Hertford, Hereford and Hampshire but I can assure you he would have known that pronouncing h is verboten in heir, honest and honour. So too in rhyme and ghost.
The letters that are rarely silent for they insist on being heard include j, with the almost solitary exception of marijuana, f and q. But don’t forget x which is hard to miss except in that French import faux pas. And, of course, there’s v although I’m not sure if it’s pronounced in covfefe? I’m afraid that’s trumped me!
Actually what’s true of x is also true of z. You hear it in zoology, zebra, zero but if the word originates from the other side of the English channel, such as chez, rendezvous or laissez-faire, it simply dazzles to deceive.
Now, tell me, did all of that surprise you? Did you ever think so many words have letters that are never pronounced? This, dear reader, is why when you’re writing in English you can so easily go wrong. I often do.
Let me end with a little ditty, once again obtained from the net:
To be honest, does the H in rhyme ring a bell?
And can the J in marijuana anybody smell?
Who knows why the K in knee won’t knock?
And why the L in walk or in calf won’t talk?
…………………………………………..
W is not write, its wrong … get the clue?
Hush, no rendezvous with Z, goodbye, adieu
Karan Thapar is the author of Devil’s Advocate: The Untold Story. The views expressed are personal