Constructed Languages (Conlangs)

David J. Peterson, hired to create working versions of the Dothraki and Valyrian languages for HBOs Game of Thrones, is about to release his new book The Art of Language Invention. Coinciding with its release, he has been featured in a couple of recent articles discussing the art of constructed languages (conlangs).

In one article in Wired entitled How to Invent a Language, From the Guy Who Made Dothraki, K. M. McFarland punts on describing the new book, which he describes as

incredibly dense. Unless you’ve taken a fair amount of linguistics, or are innately familiar with phonetic inventories and symbols, there’s a high barrier to entry for the average pop culture fan curious about how Dothraki came to be.

Instead, he settles for interviewing Peterson. Of particular interest to me:

Some Conlangers Want to Keep Their Hobby Arcane
Peterson recognizes there are “definitely some negative aspects” to the growth in conlang popularity. He cites linguistic pioneer J.R.R. Tolkein’s The Lord Of The Rings as an example of the community’s instinct toward self-protection. “There were some people who reacted negatively [when LOTR was published] because they knew conlang would start to get more attention, and they didn’t want that,” he says. Until recently, the community has been a supportive niche for people with a very specific interest. But as television shows and films with created languages continue to pop up in more places, it’s no longer as heavily guarded.

His Book Aims to Codify Conlang Knowledge For Posterity
Constructed languages have existed for centuries, but the advent of the internet brought with it the listserv that created a true community of peers. Since then, the community has grown hugely—but as the internet has changed, a new generation of conlangers on various social networks has become more spread out and unaware of each other. “I’ve met dozens of conlangers on Tumblr, all new, all young, who have no idea that each other exist,” he says, “because they’re with the mass kind of shouting into the wind.” None of them know about the old conlang listserv, and now it’s an antiquated form of digital communication, so “they don’t want to bother with that.” Peterson worries about redundancies that would arise from the lack of connection. “They’re inheriting a kingdom they really don’t know the history of, and know nothing about,” he says. They’re reinventing every single wheel we already perfected.” The Art Of Language Invention is a way of bridging the gap between the old and new conlangers by becoming a codex of sorts, preserving knowledge of constructed language much in the same way ancient languages have been preserved throughout history.

Peterson also has an interesting short post on tor.com about books that do a good job (and some a not so good job) of creating languages.

Peterson begins by citing Jack Vance’s The Languages of Pao as an example of how to do it badly. The premise for that book is that language shapes culture, and so by inventing and implementing three new languages within a group of people, culture can be changed enough to alter societal outcomes. I thought this was an interesting premise, but Peterson rejects it as a fantasy with "absolutely no grounding in linguistic science."

As for those books who do it well (and why Peterson thinks they do it well):

1. J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy.
   Obviously! Tolkien was a language creator, and created the Elvish languages of Arda decades before writing LOTR.
2. George R. R. Martin, A Song of Ice and Fire.
   Martin created no languages in detail, but worked out their genetic histories.
3. Suzette Haden Elgin, Native Tongue.
   Elgin imagined a group of women trapped in a patriarchal society creating a language that would liberate them mentally and physically from male oppression. Elgin actually created the language, Láadan.
4. Vladimir Nabokov, Pale Fire.
   Nabokov created an interesting sketch of an a posteriori language—a language based on real world sources.
5. Kurt Vonnegut, Cat’s Cradle.

On Vonnegut, I quote Peterson in full:

In Cat’s Cradle, Vonnegut introduces the reader to the island nation of San Lorenzo, whose culture, government, and religion were radically altered by the actions of two castaways who washed ashore one day. Central to the religion, called Bokononism, are a series of English-like words that were introduced to the island by English speakers, and then altered in quasi-realistic ways. For example, karass, likely from English “class,” is a group of people that are cosmically connected in an indiscernible way. From that word, though, comes the word duprass: A karass consisting of exactly two people. This is precisely the type of fascinating misanalysis that occurs all the time in real word borrowings, such as the English word “tamale,” formed by taking the “s” off “tamales,” even though the word for one tamale in Spanish is tamal.