The radical nature of Dr Liz’s whole outlook became apparent as soon as I entered her office, or Loon Zone as she calls it with that wry smile he fans know so well. The floor appeared to be covered in a layer of lawn turf, understandably patchy in places and more brown than green, but a bold attempt to bring the natural world into the immediate environs of serious academic endeavour.
“Tell me about your latest work on the Loon language,” I asked as we sat on the office grass while sipping a cup of sustainable nettle tea. I also noticed that along one wall there was what appeared to be a row of very small cabbages planted in the turf. I later found out that Dr Liz calls it her farm.
“Obviously Loon is an evolving language,” Dr Liz explained, “one which continues to shape itself around the contours of our feelings and experiences. This after all is what any language should do.”
“I see that of course, but in what way does that differ from the languages we actually use?”
“I should stress something here," Dr Liz replied, "because we are certainly not talking about so-called political correctness, correct gender pronouns, causing linguistic offence and so on, although that come into it."
"Supercharged political correctness perhaps?" I asked, feeling a little queasy at the idea.
"No, not at all. We are looking at the whole issue of language far more holistically and far more deeply. We are concerned with felt meaning. This is why we are comfortable with the term ‘Loon’. We invite linguistic violence by those who are fanatically opposed to what we are doing and in achieving that we turn the violence it against itself. It’s great fun actually.”
“But do people really understand how your approach differs from political correctness?”
“Yes, because it differs in some very fundamental modes of experience, many of which we have conclusively illustrated in our Sensitivity Linguistics Lab.”
“I see, but could you be more specific?” I asked, hoping that ‘specific’ was not a forbidden word in the Loon lexicon.
“Feelings cannot be bound by specifics,” Dr Liz replied, gently correcting my faux pas. “Loon is a journey, essentially a journey. It is not tied to the exploitative illusions embedded in traditional languages. It adapts itself to the felt experience in ways far removed from the oppressive myths of some supposed reality. It is frankly impossible to explain how liberating Loon is through the distorting lens of a dying language such as the one we are forced to use now.”
“Although you have written a number of books and articles in our language where you do seek to explain how liberating…”
“That is because we have no choice, but what I try to get across in my writing is how much easier it is to express our inner selves in Loon.”
“Yet as I understand it, Loon is like a dialect of our own language where we words and expressions have subtly different meanings.”
“Not merely a dialect because words and verbal structures in Loon reflect what we need to be, our pure inner reality released from the polluting grip of linguistic violence. Because this is what we are really up against here – linguistic violence.”
“I see. Perhaps you could give me an example.”
“At the most basic level, some words are inherently violent, words such as ‘true’ and ‘false’ for example. These words are like bladed weapons in irresponsible hands. We almost never use them in Loon unless to illustrate a Loon point.”
“I see – no true or false. Any other examples?”
“We’re sitting on one. There is no value in keeping the natural world at arms length so here it is in our world. In your rigid language of indoors and outdoors it probably doesn’t quite make sense, but in Loon it does.” Dr Liz patted the patch of grass by her side. I noticed an ant crawl up her arm but she ignored it.
By this time I had begun to experience what I can only describe as a kind of silent buzzing sensation in my head. It was too disorienting to continue so I made my excuses and left, hoping to complete the interview another time. Actually the buzzing subsided as soon as I left the Loon Zone. Coincidence of course.
“But do people really understand how your approach differs from political correctness?”
“Yes, because it differs in some very fundamental modes of experience, many of which we have conclusively illustrated in our Sensitivity Linguistics Lab.”
“I see, but could you be more specific?” I asked, hoping that ‘specific’ was not a forbidden word in the Loon lexicon.
“Feelings cannot be bound by specifics,” Dr Liz replied, gently correcting my faux pas. “Loon is a journey, essentially a journey. It is not tied to the exploitative illusions embedded in traditional languages. It adapts itself to the felt experience in ways far removed from the oppressive myths of some supposed reality. It is frankly impossible to explain how liberating Loon is through the distorting lens of a dying language such as the one we are forced to use now.”
“Although you have written a number of books and articles in our language where you do seek to explain how liberating…”
“That is because we have no choice, but what I try to get across in my writing is how much easier it is to express our inner selves in Loon.”
“Yet as I understand it, Loon is like a dialect of our own language where we words and expressions have subtly different meanings.”
“Not merely a dialect because words and verbal structures in Loon reflect what we need to be, our pure inner reality released from the polluting grip of linguistic violence. Because this is what we are really up against here – linguistic violence.”
“I see. Perhaps you could give me an example.”
“At the most basic level, some words are inherently violent, words such as ‘true’ and ‘false’ for example. These words are like bladed weapons in irresponsible hands. We almost never use them in Loon unless to illustrate a Loon point.”
“I see – no true or false. Any other examples?”
“We’re sitting on one. There is no value in keeping the natural world at arms length so here it is in our world. In your rigid language of indoors and outdoors it probably doesn’t quite make sense, but in Loon it does.” Dr Liz patted the patch of grass by her side. I noticed an ant crawl up her arm but she ignored it.
By this time I had begun to experience what I can only describe as a kind of silent buzzing sensation in my head. It was too disorienting to continue so I made my excuses and left, hoping to complete the interview another time. Actually the buzzing subsided as soon as I left the Loon Zone. Coincidence of course.
3 comments:
My vocabulary is rudimentary as yet, but I think one Loon word for "true" is "appropriate". One also needs to be aware of subtle differences in words we already use. "Racist", for example, has now been modified to mean what we mean by "disagreeable", and "the environment" is used to mean "stuff I like".
Is it the 1st October or the 1st April?
Sam - that's a good start, although "the environment" is often used to mean "stuff I like which you keep breaking".
Ed - in our brave new world it is always April 1st.
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