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Books by FFWD Staff "Newspeak was designed not to extend but to diminish the range of thought, and this purpose was indirectly assisted by cutting the choice of words down to a minimum." George Orwell, Nineteen Eighty-Four The relationship between language and meaning – between words and objects – has never been straightforward. However, today that relationship seems more strained than even Orwell imagined in his gloom-laden world of Thought Police and Big Brother. Every day we see new examples of Newspeak's victory over meaningful language. For example, the proposed "United Alternative" of right-wing parties appears neither particularly united nor much of an alternative to the present government. As for "Social Union," what the hell does that mean...? Alberto Manguel is a writer for whom the value of words is paramount. Best known as the author of A History of Reading (1996), a marvelous book that topped best-seller lists around the globe, Manguel is currently a writer-in-residence at the University of Calgary. His latest book is Into the Looking-Glass Wood , a collection of essays that explore the magic and mystery of the written word. "For me, words on a page give the work coherence," writes Manguel in the preface to his new book. Of course, trendy post-modernists have been saying much the same thing for the past three decades or so, claiming that language determines reality rather than vice versa. But during our recent meeting, Manguel is quick to point out that writers have always been interested in the slippery relationship between language and life. In conversation and in print, he makes frequent reference to authors such as Lewis Carroll, G.K. Chesterton and Jorge Luis Borges, three very different men who shared the same fascination with the fluid nature of language and its imperfect match with reality. The language-meaning conundrum may be nothing new, then, but Manguel does sense a deterioration in its health in recent years. "There's a lack of interest in being precise," he says, "of taking responsibility for making oneself clear." He points to the pervasive intrusion of the word "like" into even the simplest of declarations – "I'm, like, going for a coffee now" – and argues that it's decidedly cool not to be accurate in meaning these days. He also notes the recent defence of Ebonics (an African-American variation of English) as a genuine language. "It's not," he says, "it comes out of ignorance of another language... and it involves guesswork on the part of the listener." And this, he suggests, can lead only to further confusion over meaning. It's not easy to pin down a root cause for this decline of accuracy in language. Moreover, there is admittedly an element of "old fart" syndrome to any such complaint. Still, I press Manguel on the matter. Does the rise of the Internet and CD-ROM technology play a part in this? Has an emphasis on speed and accessibility displaced precision and sense when it comes to communicating? Like many other writers, Manguel compares the impact of such technology to the advent of the printing revolution in the 16th century – it changes and modifies the way we communicate, he suggests, but old forms will continue to co-exist with the new. For example, he argues that the Internet has all the disadvantages, none of the advantages of the codex, and it will not replace the book. It works best, he says, for conveying information and facts, but makes few demands of the intellect at the moment. In the end, Manguel is reasonably optimistic about the future of books and even, perhaps, about the state of language. That's just as well, for although a prolific writer, he still sees himself first and foremost as a reader. His own books – including Into the Looking-Glass Wood – he regards as "guidebooks." So if you're feeling lost in the world of cybertext and virtual reality, take the time to check out the Rand McNally of Canadian literature.

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