I vowed to review this little "sleeper" of a book at a future date. Well, it might as well be now, so we can start the year on the right foot. Uhhh, footing?
Deriada is a multi-awarded literary writer, a Palanca Hall-of-Famer on the strength of his first-prize awards in various categories. He writes stories, plays, essays and children’s stories in English, has tried his hand at Kiniray-a and Hiligaynon, translates from those languages, teaches at the UP in the Visayas in Iloilo City. He serves as a bulwark of knowledgability in the seasonal writers’ workshops held all over the country.
Leo has authored several books in numerous genres. An unpublished manuscript of his that I still recall with admiration is a short story for children titled "The Man Who Hated Birds." As a judges in that Palanca contest of some years back, I pushed for its acceptance as the run-away first-prize winner. I had no idea it was his entry, else I might have practiced some restraint, since we had been contemporaries as Silliman University instructors ages ago, and shared good memories of our kids learning to bike around the campus together.
A publisher should pry that manuscript off Deriada, assign it to one of our outstanding young illustrators (Jason Moss might be a perfect choice), and voila! We’ll have another commendable children’s book the PBBY can nominate for an international prize.
Anyway. Back to the welcome task at hand. A note says that Little Lessons, Little Lectures "was completed to satisfy the requirements of the G.E. Chair of Associate Professor of Communication and Humanities which the author occupied during the school year 1997-1998."
We should all be grateful that Deriada caused its eventual publication. Every English department in every public and private school in the country should have a copy. Better yet, all English teachers from grade school up should have one, and endeavor to share the book’s wealth of instructive material with everyone who cares to unlearn all the bad things we’ve done and keep doing to the English language.
Perhaps Sec. Raul Roco can have his department, surely the most important and vital to our future, disseminate as many copies of this book as possible. Newspaper, magazine, and TV news editors also need it as bedside reading, else for whipping parvenu reporters into line.
Deriada says in his Foreword: "After forty-one years in the classroom, I think it is time for me to put into a volume the many, and various, little lessons, little lectures that I have been sharing with my students. These… have been culled from various sources, some of them quite unorthodox: library books, hardbound as well as mimeographed textbooks, the English dictionary, the Reader’s Digest, Jean Edades’ column as well as various little conversations with her. But the biggest source of the materials – that means the errors this book is trying to correct – is my own classroom and the many Philippine publications like newspapers and magazines. Somehow, after many years of teaching English, reading Philippine newspapers and magazines and listening to Filipinos speak in meetings and conferences, during interviews, on the stage and on radio and television, I have a clear idea of the particular problems of Filipinos in using the English language. This book addresses these problems."
Remember Jean Edades? Someone should revive the idea of a little daily column like hers, and have it syndicated nationally.
On another aside, I note with appreciation that Deriada shares my old-timer’s regard for the erstwhile traditional convention of having a simple apostrophe signify the possessive, as in "Edades’" – as against the updated "Edades’s" – which I am often reluctant to adopt. Why? Well, "Marcos’s" and "Ramos’s" may seem all right to ready followers of contemporary style books, but I find it hard to suppress a giggle or wince over such occurrences as "Zeus’s" and "Odysseus’s."
This is not a book on grammar perse. Deriada delves into correct usage, alerts readers to common pitfalls, explains the effectivity of literary, figurative, and metaphorical language.
In any case, one can hardly be a purist with grammar these days. As they say, everyone makes misteaks. Or become prone to accepting what’s been popularized, at the expense of an awareness of correctness.
As Deriada reminds us, "The popularity of the error alright is such that you might think it is acceptable. It is not. It is always an error. It has to be spelled in two words, all right. The authority is any English dictionary. Curiously, alright – because probably of its popularity – is listed in the biggest English dictionary I have ever seen. A copy is in the library of Silliman University. It is so big that one needs a wheelbarrow to move it about. What does the dictionary say opposite the misspelled entry? Not the approved spelling. Consult all right."
Deriada also reminds the reader that "in spite" is also spelled as two words, "full-pledged" is an awful if common local error, frequently replacing the correct "full-fledged," and that "cope" doesn’t necessarily have to team up with "up" – but more with "with." Further: "The verb avail always has a reflexive pronoun. Always. You do not say, ‘I would like to avail of the services of a lawyer.’ You say, "I would like to avail myself of the services of a lawyer.’
Here’s something not too many editors or party planners know:
"A celebrant is one who officiates in a ceremony or ritual whereas a celebrator is one who celebrates an occasion."
Deriada derides the Filipino invention – only because it’s hoodwinked many of our speakers, writers, and academics – of the non-English terms "votation," "aggrupation," and "masteral" as in "masteral studies." Well, "aggrupation" has been so embraced by otherwise distinguished Filipino journalists that we’ve seen it picked up by writer-editors in Hong Kong and Singapore. Just like the formerly non-existent word "insightful."
Deriada also notes, but more in jest: "Presidentiable, senatoriable, mayorable. There are no such English words. But these words are alive and kicking in the Philippines, threatening to be permanent contributions of Filipinos to the growth of English. If only for that, the world should thank our stinking politics."
It’s that kind of a charmer’s little volume. As the author admits, "a grammar book can be deadly in its dullness." Which is why he’s chosen to write it in "an interesting, enjoyable manner," a manner that "might even be jocose."
Spelling and pronunciation are treated in such fashion.
"Almost always, ph is pronounced as f. But not in shepherd. This is sheperd, not sheferd. Remember this when you sing those Christmas carols in December. The sheferds in Bethlehem would just be like Facifica Falayfay saying, Ang safatos ni Fafa nafutikan."
Deriada wags a finger: "Electric lights and faucets are not opened or closed." And: "‘I’ll go ahead does not mean ‘Mauna ako.’" He also relates how a movie house in Iloilo once flashed an announcement on the screen: "Something is wrong with our aircondition. Please bare with us."
Because some of these brief pieces appeared in a regional weekly in the early ’90s, there are numerous references to Kiniray-a and Hiligaynon. But the titles of the 77 little chapters are themselves intriguing and instructive outright. As in: "The first syllable of breakfast does not sound like break." Or: "Folk rhymes with poke."
Reminds me of our generals who love to say "lawnch an offensive" instead of "launch," which is "lonz," as differentiated from the lobby lounge or lounge lizard. Then there’s a columnist who used to have a TV talk show where he kept saying "country" as "count-tree." Pardon the possible obscenity, but it’s "cun-tri."
Oh how we miss Pete Lacaba’s column, "Carabeef Lengua" was it, where he raised jocose questions over such dubious Filipinisms as the DPWH’s "accident-prone area."
Television stations would do well to hire either Deriada or Lacaba for live-in seminars on correct English usage. Attendees ought to be all of the twentysomething news reporters given so much premature liberty to conduct live stand-uppers. Might as well throw in the desk editors, news writers and news readers.
For our part, we still lament the most common incursions of Filipino English into a state of impropriety. The following peeves may still be seen or heard in utmost frequency in our print and broadcast journalism:
"Result to..." NOT! It’s "result in..."
"Among these include..." OUCH! It’s either "among these are..." or "these include..."
"The President assured that ..." As far as we know, "assured" is a transitive verb, needing a direct object, as in "...assured the public." To be safer about it, try the more formal "gave assurance..."
It’s "a whopping sum," not "whooping" as favored by entertainment writers. And "premiere" should refer only to a special or advance performance, the very first, while "premier" means top-class, foremost, or someone in Tony Blair’s position.
"Footage" as a collective noun is still preferable to the brutishly pluralized "footages," just as it’s "furniture" and not "furnitures." "Fishes" and "medicines" are acceptable as distinct citations of varied numbers, but generally it should still be "fish" and "medicine" even when referring to many, especially of the same kind.
The dangling modifier is still very much around, as in "Entering the house, a wide lanai greeted us." Correct usage: "...we were greeted by a wide lanai."
And few college students seem to be able to distinguish the simple demands in the use of "could" as against "can." If you don’t have the ear for it, the simple trick to remember is that more often than not, "could" relates to parallel past action. "I think I can. I thought I could."
I realize we can’t all be specialists in language. But at the very least we should learn to avoid making signage that proclaims our shop to "Specialized in..." something or udder.