Fictional words may captivate audiences with their whimsical charm, weaving a spell that's hard to resist. From "scrumdiddlyumptious" and "whizzpopper" in the BFG to "disgustikafied," "rampallion," and "frabjous" in Wicked: For Good, made-up words have been a staple of language for centuries, crafted to charm and challenge us.
Linguists point out that coined words often rely on shared intimacy, with the trick being that new words only work if people understand them. Words like "gratitution" and "privishly" in Wicked seem to make use of familiar expressions, drawing out or reshaping roots with added suffixes as fantastical flourishes.
The history of invented words stretches back to Shakespeare, who coined "brabble" by splicing together parts of "bicker" and "squabble." Many modern examples follow the same pattern: "hangry," "smog," and "brunch" blend familiar ideas in a concise way because they capture something that's been hiding in plain sight. This wink of familiarity is what makes them witty.
Gary Lupyan emphasizes the importance of context in understanding unfamiliar words, noting that words like "horrendible" can be understood when first encountered, especially if they're used in a context where a familiar word might be expected. Lewis Carroll's coined words, such as "mimsy," "galumph," and "slithy," are another example of this approach.
Carroll's use of made-up words invites audience participation, allowing readers to fill gaps themselves with their own word knowledge and interpretation. Novels and poems often leave space for our own interpretations, and nonsense words leave a lot of room for creativity.
Writers like Roald Dahl and Dr. Seuss have long employed neologisms to shape character or create humor. In Shakespeare's Henry IV, Part 2, inventive slights reveal as much about the insult-slinger as the slingee.
The use of fictional characters using words that aren't part of the established vocabulary makes them recognizable through their language use. Daniela Landert notes that Buffy the Vampire Slayer used made-up words to strengthen the identities and bond between protagonists.
Occasionally, invented words become bigger than the stories they contain, creating humor and audience engagement by inviting readers to reflect on the wider use of language and the meaning of words. Take Carroll's Jabberwocky for instance. The most common function of these neologisms remains to immerse audiences in new worlds without losing us in them.
In Wicked, Lupyan observes that these words form a firm foundation, particularly when compared to more conventional terms like "horrible" or "horrendous." Rather than communicating a specific meaning that conventional words could not, it's a world-building function. The enchanting power of fictional words lies in their ability to guide, inform, and entertain us in a semantically subversive way โ where recognition meets surprise.
Linguists point out that coined words often rely on shared intimacy, with the trick being that new words only work if people understand them. Words like "gratitution" and "privishly" in Wicked seem to make use of familiar expressions, drawing out or reshaping roots with added suffixes as fantastical flourishes.
The history of invented words stretches back to Shakespeare, who coined "brabble" by splicing together parts of "bicker" and "squabble." Many modern examples follow the same pattern: "hangry," "smog," and "brunch" blend familiar ideas in a concise way because they capture something that's been hiding in plain sight. This wink of familiarity is what makes them witty.
Gary Lupyan emphasizes the importance of context in understanding unfamiliar words, noting that words like "horrendible" can be understood when first encountered, especially if they're used in a context where a familiar word might be expected. Lewis Carroll's coined words, such as "mimsy," "galumph," and "slithy," are another example of this approach.
Carroll's use of made-up words invites audience participation, allowing readers to fill gaps themselves with their own word knowledge and interpretation. Novels and poems often leave space for our own interpretations, and nonsense words leave a lot of room for creativity.
Writers like Roald Dahl and Dr. Seuss have long employed neologisms to shape character or create humor. In Shakespeare's Henry IV, Part 2, inventive slights reveal as much about the insult-slinger as the slingee.
The use of fictional characters using words that aren't part of the established vocabulary makes them recognizable through their language use. Daniela Landert notes that Buffy the Vampire Slayer used made-up words to strengthen the identities and bond between protagonists.
Occasionally, invented words become bigger than the stories they contain, creating humor and audience engagement by inviting readers to reflect on the wider use of language and the meaning of words. Take Carroll's Jabberwocky for instance. The most common function of these neologisms remains to immerse audiences in new worlds without losing us in them.
In Wicked, Lupyan observes that these words form a firm foundation, particularly when compared to more conventional terms like "horrible" or "horrendous." Rather than communicating a specific meaning that conventional words could not, it's a world-building function. The enchanting power of fictional words lies in their ability to guide, inform, and entertain us in a semantically subversive way โ where recognition meets surprise.