Biographical Analysis of John Mcwhorter

Han Bin Kim Comp II, Class B Assignment 2, Draft 1 February 23, 2013 seat McWhorter Interview Over the years I fool interviewed a good physical body of people, merely t present has neer been anyone sort of standardised legerdemain McWhorter. Upon rendering the phrase The Cosmopolitan Tongue The Universality of face as published in the 2009 come edition of World Affairs, I raise myself delighted by the mellow only if powerful tone and the writer who could substance abuse it with such(prenominal) ease. Here was a valetkind with brains, consideration, and humor.Lost in my reveries al roughly what McWhorter would be a worry(p), I didnt quite trueize that I had somehow dialed his office hail until a deep voice filtered through the receiver. Yes? McWhorter speaking. With a tingling sense of nervousness I had forgotten since my rookie days, I introduced myself and asked if he could sp ar time for a brief interview. He replied, Interviews, my businesslike sir, are se ldom brief, and I could al most(prenominal) hear his smile. thither was that brilliant wit which had enliven him to assert that there were no feminine-gendered tables that talk like Penelope Cruz. (McWhorter, 251) After a moment or two of friendly wrangling, he gently suggested encounter Saturday afternoon at a quiet cafe we both knew. I agreed to the designated rendezvous and, futile to control the temptation, asked, How long have you state cafe like that? The personal manner McWhorter enunciate the enounce was this the c was sweeter and lighter, in the way Italians and Spaniards speak, and the f was tell like a soft psounding entirely foreign. He said simply, Since I was genuinely young. I already knew that he had taught himself verbi long times as a hobby since puerility (McWhorter, 247), and unsatisfied as I was with his answer, I vowed that Saturday would be a new day. On Saturday afternoon I drove down a peaceful country road and walked silently into the cafe. A statuesque man stood with his pole to me, gazing out the large French finish upow, and without prologue asked, Isnt that a stunning poem correctly in front of us? Anne Shirley said it a century ago, neertheless Ill take the liberty to repeat it.The lines and verses are only the outward garments of the poem the real poem is the soul within them and that beautiful scene is the soul of an unwritten poem. I smiled quietly at his analytical provided sensitive analogy, reminded immediately of his description of the vocalise al an evergreen branch, a raillery whose final sound is a tin whistle past the sides of the tongue that sounds like wind passing through just such a branch. (McWhorter, 247) I later asked him what his childhood nickname had been, and laughing, he confessed that he had most often been harbingered poet.Sm in all wonder for a man who could condense a long, everyday objurgate reckon, for example, there are an innumerable number of books that could have sum med up to no con none weightinto three pithy, creative, im long timery-filled dustup bookstall shelves groan. (McWhorter, 247) He folded his long self into the armchair, carrefour his legs, and leaning slightly forward he told me to sit down. As I sat, I remarked, You look a great crapper like I imagined you to be. His quiet straits and intelligent gaze compelled me to elucidate.I had gathered a lot of the premises from his writing. The contrasting thoughts I precisely rejoice when a lyric poem dies (McWhorter, 247) and Would it be inherently evil if there were not 6,000 spoken verbiages but one? (McWhorter, 252) could hardly have revealed themselves in a case-by-case piece of writing unless the writer was a man of exceptionally precise, tatty logic. hence I had already envisioned the deep-set, good-looking eyes that flashed fire from under his brow, and the securely set spill. I had also imagined him to be a handsome man, and he was that, too.Humor salvage the c hin from tapering too sharply, the mouth from being dour Spanish speakers do not go about routinely imagining tables as cooing in feminine tones. (McWhorter, 249) McWhorter laughed at my analysis, wryly telling me that I should have gone out for professional induce in physiognomy, and handed me the menu which the await had left by his side. These miniscule kind actions which I had noticed during the phone call and the three minutes I had met him, inspired me to ask if he had always been so thoughtful. He looked surprised. I have never thought myself considerate, he said slowly, I am often told that I am too frank with my words. Before I make my opinion on some subject, I look at it from all perspectives to break past that it is perfectly reasonable and logical. But one time I make it, I posit it without stopping to gauge if people who think otherwise will be s canisterdalise by my words. I protested. I had already known that he was a considerate person just by reading h is article namely, the welcoming way with which he drew his readers in Most Americans talk disgusting as diss-kusting with a k sound. Try ityou probably do too. ) (McWhorter, 248) The tall man leaned back in the armchair and laughed. My dear friend, every writer is obligated to delicious his readers. Readers are the laziest species that ever drew breath, and if they take int tactile property welcomed, they wont read. As for being patient in littler thingswell, I dont know if this is very relevant or not, but I read quintette versions of the Talmud, to each one one progressively harder, when I was in in-between school. Im pretty authoritative junior steep was when my interest in Hebrew peaked.The Talmud was a pretty good source of lingual and cultural knowledge, and some of the moral standards make pretty logical sense, so I adopted them as my own. It was relevant. Being considerate in a gentlemanly way, however, was variant from the deferential attitude that McWhorter al ways took on when dealing with other cultures. to a greater extent peculiar(a) was how completely he take careed to understand each verbiage, from its origin to how the people felt about itNative American groups would bristle at the idea that they are no long meaningfully Indian simply because they no longer speak their ancestral row. (McWhorter, 249) McWhorter looked a trifle annoyed at first, but gradually his well-shaped face took on more complacent, amused lines. I am a writer, and I am a linguist, he said. Both have to do with wordstheir denotation, connotation, nuance, and power. Knowing the power each word can wield automatically inspires you to feel a certain reverence for the English vocabulary in generalIm sure youll agree with me there, sirand keen the power each language can wield brings you on your knees before the communion table of all languages. But you dont worship something you know absolutely aught about, he aid, gazing out at the sunstruck scene again. You first make sure that whatever it is, it is something that deserves to be worshipped. So you teach the language. From then on, its rather like jumping into a river. Jump into the affection of the current, and you will be swept away like a stray evenfall leaf. If you give yourself wholeheartedly up for the language to mold, the culture starts to mold you too. And as for the accompaniment that I feel this way towards all languages, and here a small take down creased his brow as he turned to me again, well, it is a shame that this should be surprising, that is all.Each language has a rich bequest, albeit a legacy very different from our own, and they should be respected. McWhorters eloquence touched me, and we talked for two more hours, vacillating from common everyday things I caught glimpses of from his article to fascinating facts I had never dreamed about him. I intentional that he had mastered Socrates syllogisms at the age of six and Hegelian dialectics at the age of t welve, and that the value he respected most in humanity was its reason.Judging by the cold shoulder he gave his so darling minority languages in his concluding separateWe must consider the question in its pure, logical essence (McWhorter, 252)it was hardly surprising. More interesting was the fact that he had no less than four dogs at home, each named after a rare language he had specially enjoyed. The latest accompaniment to the family was a darling slender little Chihuahua named Ket, with triple the uncertain grace of gracelessness found in dogs of his species. In the middle of hearing about Kets antics, I asked rather abruptly, What art form is your ducky?Modernist? McWhorter looked at me, surprised. How did you guess? I laughed. McWhorter, for a man of such clear-cut logic, enjoyed impossibilities as far as reality allowed The Ket language of Siberia is so awesomely irregular as to seem a work of art. (McWhorter, 250) It was only native that he should enjoy Picasso, who se pictures showed sharper gifted insight, over David or Michelangelo, whose works were but excellent facsimiles of lifes bearing copied onto canvas and marble.Four hours passed by in the nictation of an eye and time came for McWhorter to leave. He stood up and cordially move my hand. It was an honor meeting you, sir, though I dare say the interview was not short. I shook my head. No, it was an excellent interview. Thank you very much, Mr. McWhorter. Please, butt, McWhorter smilingly said. If theres one thing I l understanded from studying languages, it is that call are the essence of culture. Ive seen many an(prenominal) languages that are creative and fiendishly unwieldy and randombut no language is ever simpler than the other.Each has rich names for the things they nurture most. Native Americans sometimes have ridiculous names did you know that they have to earn it? But in our culture, we place acknowledgment foremostand thanks be, my name is John McWhorter John for friends and Mr. McWhorter for editors who dont like my articles. Arent there many Johns here? I teased, laughing, as I pulled on my coat. McWhorter shook his head. None like me, John McWhorter, he smiled, and treaded lightly out the door.