I'm not ashamed to admit that I love dictionaries, not only for correcting spelling or meaning, but also as a repository of history. Perusing an old dictionary is like a vertical tasting of wine, where it is possible to see semantic "growth" (if any), such as with "gay", "cool", "shit" or "junk". They are a useful way to help annoy others by dropping into conversation such words as "sacerdotalism", "de rigueur", "onomatopoeia" or "Schadenfreude". They are a reminder that English has been influenced by many other languages, such as Latin, French and Greek, and has developed beyond its origins in the Germanic language family. But mostly, they illustrate that we have many wonderful words at our disposal, if we care to learn and use them.

Since the advent of the internet, the art of careful, considered, "asynchronous" letter-writing has all but disappeared, replaced by the possibility of (or necessity for) 24-hour, "synchronous" communication, full of acronyms, misspellings and misuses, and seemingly the need, in many people, to speak or write in as few letters, words or sentences as possible (oh, the irony).

What do we lose when we put brevity before eloquence, sloppiness before precision, speed before deliberation? Of course, that's a value judgment, as Facebook status updates, text messages, Tweets and forum posts are generally concerned with relaying information, not poetry or prose, and are usually informal. Yet some say that our current predilection for using digital means to converse is resulting in (or caused by — chicken and the egg) the dumbing-down of society. We shall see if the film Idiocracy becomes truly prophetic and if we end up going full circle, communicating again with grunts.
It is doubtless that at all stages of history, changes in language have been met with resistance, with those using less traditional, more current forms seen as "mentally deficient" or incapable of coherent language use — even without any evidence of their full engagement with literacy. It seems nothing's new, only the changes appear to be happening at a more rapid pace and people seem to be getting more annoyed about it. Or accepting, depending on your point of view. Changes in the "appropriate" accent and register for Australian television can be seen in the move from Received Pronunciation (also known as "BBC English") and relatively formal spoken language in the 1950s to an abundance of presenters speaking with broad, "ocker" accents and informal language varieties.

As I stated in a recent article, all languages change, mainly to suit the needs of their users, and English is no different. But while informal varieties move further and further away from standard English, we still have a plethora of beautiful, useful words at our disposal — and standard English is in relatively little danger of being "destroyed", due in most part to it being a standardised, fairly inflexible language variety. Again, the beauty of words is subjective, as some may derive great pleasure from Wordsworth or Dylan Thomas, or from hearing "mellifluous" or "efflorescence", while others think "poo" and "fart" are golden.

If I can try to convince people of anything, language-wise, it would be that a desire to expand one's vocabulary does not mean poring over dictionaries, becoming a "nerd", or attending postmodern poetry recitals in burnt-out warehouses. It means opening oneself to the beauty and power of language, whether it be through poetry, prose, film, literature or any other medium where language is celebrated as an end in itself (and that might include Playboy, I mean, of course the articles). With a greater propensity to use or understand language, one can better understand and discuss the world. It's no surprise that many of the authors, poets and screenwriters who best delineate human experience also have a tremendous grasp of how to use language — to excite, to shock, to persuade.

Judging by some of the comments to my last article, people have strong views on "proper" language use, even in informal environments. While I feel that language change is a natural process, I, too, feel frustrated when people make simple mistakes, such as confusing "there", "they're" and "their", or not realising (or caring) what punctuation is. I've seen blocks of words from teenagers (and adults) that resemble stream of consciousness blather by Absinth-infected writers, only without the wit.

With so much communication now taking place online, it seems the rules have changed; spelling words incorrectly, shortening them or using no punctuation does not matter, as people will still work out what we're saying, and only a minority will care about the errors. I agree with this, to a point. A failure to use clear language can mean our point is unclear or we are judged as being careless, illiterate or worse. The judgment of others may seem irrelevant to some, but when trying to acquire gainful employment, for example, decisions can be made on even the smallest details, and one's literacy level is not immune.

A life spent in informal speech or writing means that words like accept/except, affect/effect, then/than, to/too dessert/desert, passed/past, and stationary/stationery are easily confused. I've lost count of how many times I've seen should, would or could with "of" rather than "have". Some may class these as capital offences, or pettiness on my part, but the real "crime" seems to be a loss of conviction in one's words, where "close enough is good enough".

I realise that any efforts of mine to urge others to value literacy will be welcomed by some yet met with resistance or indifference by others; I won't convince them to value words, just as they won't convince me "dat rytin lyk dis" is quicker, easier or a useful way to express individualism.

Brendan Black is a Melbourne writer who has a background in linguistics study.