Trendsurfing: "Snowclone" journalism (The Times)
By David Rowan
Sometimes a trend comes along that is brutally painful for a self-respecting journalist to acknowledge. So it is with some embarrassment that I report on the latest obsession buzzing through the arcane fields of linguistics and lexicography, one that will resonate with any Times reader who values well-written English. We hacks, it seems, have become so enamoured of lazy, formulaic turns of phrase that we have inspired a new academic sport devoted to chronicling them. They even have their own name: snowclones. Snowclones? Darling, as journalistic clichés go, snowclones are the new black.
The sport emerged about two years ago, when a distinguished linguistics professor, Geoffrey Pullum, reflected on Language Log, a popular linguistics chat forum, that there was rather a lot of newsprint being wasted on vacuously clichéd constructions such as "X" being "the new black". "We need a name for [the] multi-use, customisable, instantly recognisable, time-worn, quoted or misquoted phrase or sentence that can be used in an entirely open array of different jokey variants by lazy journalists and writers," Pullum suggested. He cited one particular bugbear: the recurring journalistic construction about Eskimos and their vast armoury of words supposedly devoted to snow.
Examples, sadly, abound. "If Eskimos have dozens of words for snow, Germans have as many for bureaucracy," reported The Economist. "Eskimos may have 18 words for snow, but Glaswegians have many more for getting drunk," suggested this very newspaper. The problem, rather awkwardly, is that the assertion's very premise appears to be flawed. The Inuit language pays far less attention to snow than the writers who recycle the attention-grabbing claim to make their points. It has become one of those “phrases for lazy writers in kit form”, Pullum lamented. Then why not, replied another professor, Glen Whitman, call the construction a "snowclone"?
Then the academic snowstorm began. Remember that phrase used to promote the film Alien: "In space, no one can hear you scream"? Suddenly snowclone hunters were documenting media usages suggesting that, in space, no one can hear you belch, bitch, blog, speak, squeak or suck. Familiar with the John Gray book about men being from Mars and women from Venus? With a few internet searches, the linguists were citing hundreds of Martian-Venusian pairings, from Nikes and Reeboks to Germans and Italians. And don't even get the profs started on "X" being the new "Y". The linguistics discussion groups have documented everything from "scar tissue is the new black" to "old is the new young". No wonder Private Eye fills a regular column with endless examples from Britain's public prints.
Thankfully, this is a game that you too can play. The next time you read about a "hidden epidemic", be aware that you are drifting into a snowclone: recent hidden epidemics have involved chlamydia, illiteracy, autism and gambling. Heard about someone who happens to be young and gifted? Invariably they will be "young, gifted and Tory" (The Guardian), "young, gifted and super-rich" (The Mirror) or "young, gifted and a right handful" (BBC). Other favourite snowclones currently zipping through the academic mailing lists include "have X will travel", the suggestion that someone "eats, drinks, and sleeps X", and the assertion that "one man's X is another man's Y". Try an internet search if you are not convinced: replace the X with an asterisk, and prepare to wade through a few hundred thousand examples.
Better still, email me with the snowclones you would most like banned. I'll eat, drink and sleep your suggestions, and together we shall eradicate this hidden journalistic epidemic.
(The Times Magazine, December 3 2005)
Sometimes a trend comes along that is brutally painful for a self-respecting journalist to acknowledge. So it is with some embarrassment that I report on the latest obsession buzzing through the arcane fields of linguistics and lexicography, one that will resonate with any Times reader who values well-written English. We hacks, it seems, have become so enamoured of lazy, formulaic turns of phrase that we have inspired a new academic sport devoted to chronicling them. They even have their own name: snowclones. Snowclones? Darling, as journalistic clichés go, snowclones are the new black.
The sport emerged about two years ago, when a distinguished linguistics professor, Geoffrey Pullum, reflected on Language Log, a popular linguistics chat forum, that there was rather a lot of newsprint being wasted on vacuously clichéd constructions such as "X" being "the new black". "We need a name for [the] multi-use, customisable, instantly recognisable, time-worn, quoted or misquoted phrase or sentence that can be used in an entirely open array of different jokey variants by lazy journalists and writers," Pullum suggested. He cited one particular bugbear: the recurring journalistic construction about Eskimos and their vast armoury of words supposedly devoted to snow.
Examples, sadly, abound. "If Eskimos have dozens of words for snow, Germans have as many for bureaucracy," reported The Economist. "Eskimos may have 18 words for snow, but Glaswegians have many more for getting drunk," suggested this very newspaper. The problem, rather awkwardly, is that the assertion's very premise appears to be flawed. The Inuit language pays far less attention to snow than the writers who recycle the attention-grabbing claim to make their points. It has become one of those “phrases for lazy writers in kit form”, Pullum lamented. Then why not, replied another professor, Glen Whitman, call the construction a "snowclone"?
Then the academic snowstorm began. Remember that phrase used to promote the film Alien: "In space, no one can hear you scream"? Suddenly snowclone hunters were documenting media usages suggesting that, in space, no one can hear you belch, bitch, blog, speak, squeak or suck. Familiar with the John Gray book about men being from Mars and women from Venus? With a few internet searches, the linguists were citing hundreds of Martian-Venusian pairings, from Nikes and Reeboks to Germans and Italians. And don't even get the profs started on "X" being the new "Y". The linguistics discussion groups have documented everything from "scar tissue is the new black" to "old is the new young". No wonder Private Eye fills a regular column with endless examples from Britain's public prints.
Thankfully, this is a game that you too can play. The next time you read about a "hidden epidemic", be aware that you are drifting into a snowclone: recent hidden epidemics have involved chlamydia, illiteracy, autism and gambling. Heard about someone who happens to be young and gifted? Invariably they will be "young, gifted and Tory" (The Guardian), "young, gifted and super-rich" (The Mirror) or "young, gifted and a right handful" (BBC). Other favourite snowclones currently zipping through the academic mailing lists include "have X will travel", the suggestion that someone "eats, drinks, and sleeps X", and the assertion that "one man's X is another man's Y". Try an internet search if you are not convinced: replace the X with an asterisk, and prepare to wade through a few hundred thousand examples.
Better still, email me with the snowclones you would most like banned. I'll eat, drink and sleep your suggestions, and together we shall eradicate this hidden journalistic epidemic.
(The Times Magazine, December 3 2005)
posted by David Rowan at Saturday, December 03, 2005
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