Lectures

Harriet was kind enough to accompany me to a literature lecture today.
I can honestly say that I didn't imagine there would come a time in my life when I would go to a lecture voluntarily and also pay to do so.
The lectures had been advertised and I'd been meaning to read Jane Eyre for some time, so a lecture about it seemed like a perfect excuse and getting to learn a little extra about it afterwards was a bonus.
I didn't anticipate the additional information about the Bronte's and I'm still thinking about it. Charlotte Bronte was one of six children, she was the last of the six to die. At 39. That's just seven years older than me. The five other children all died before they reached my age. I find myself just sitting and thinking about that and the sheer tragedy of dying so young. I joke about getting old, but I feel young when people my own age, even hundreds of years ago have died.

The lecturer also read out a short passage from the book, the words of one of the characters, Helen, where she speaks of why she likes a teacher at the school she and Jane are attending. I don't remember the passage exactly but she is referring to a compatibility of language. Which isn't a term I've heard before but as she spoke further about it, I felt that it really struck a chord with me.
Sometimes someone says something to you and you feel as though you've always known it but someone else had to flick the switch to make you aware of it.
Realising why you have had so much fun talking to some people and so little fun talking to others. It's down to a language compatibility or incompatibility.
I feel it's why some authors just seem to fit us so well, even when their styles alter we can continue to appreciate their work. I love finding someone with whom conversation flows, when it's not a series of questions but a slow process of discovery.

When you have a strong love of words the language compatibility is vital. Maybe that is one reason that my loathing of txtspk is so strong, I want to converse in real words, where the language is real and full. I want to read the word 'you' not 'u', 'for' not '4', 'mate' not 'm8', but I've ranted about that before.

I had a boyfriend once who complained when I used 'long' words. If I said obstinate instead of stubborn he hated it. He preferred that I said hard to please instead of fastidious. It drove me mad, I hated having my use of words curtailed. It left me feeling so frustrated, I craved talking to someone that would understand, what were to me, ordinary words.

It's left me in a world of contemplation about how language compatibility affects us, if it has an impact on our life? Do we judge people on their language in the same subconscious way that we judge their scent?