Australia’s colourful language

Press, 8 November 1986, Page 23

Australia’s colourful language

The Penguin Tasman Dictionary. Edited by A. Delbridge with H. W. Orsman. Penguin Books, 1986. 752 pp. $16.49 (Reviewed by Mavis Airey)

Hard on the heels of the New Zealand dictionaries published by Collins and the Oxford University Press comes Penguin’s Tasman Dictionary, calling itself an international dictionary for all New Zealanders. “Firmly embedded in Australasian research,” it “looks outwards from our part of the world towards North American and British English rather than the reverse,” says H. W. Orsman, reader in English at Victoria University, who is the dictionary’s New Zealand consulting editor.

A worthy objective. And indeed, the reader will find no American states or English counties here — but nor will he or she find the Plunket Society or the Ranfurly Shield. Specifically New Zealand references are generally limited to Maori-derived words and native flora and fauna, plus a smattering of colloquial phrases not shared by the Australians — and, one suspects,, not by all New Zealanders. Try asking for a “long john” at your local bakery. In his introduction J. R. L. Bernard makes much of the “common core of linguistic inheritance” between Australians and New Zealanders and the “vast common pool of words which both groups know to the exclusion of speakers of English overseas.” Although the dictionary has been prepared in Australia, he believes “New Zealandersr will find in

it expressions of both the standard and colloquial language which they will greet as old friends.” Among these old friends, it seems, are “waddy” for a stick, “banjo” for a shovel, and "shanty” for a bush hotel. Come off it, mate! What is really interesting about this book is not so much the trans-Tasman connection, but the fascinating insights it gives into the Australian way of life. Here you will find bowyangs, lilly pilly, and bopple nuts, as well as jam tarts that never chine from anyone’s kitchen. Here, children are “ankle biters,” a “hot dog” is a kind of surfboard, and “double dipping” has nothing to do with sheep. It is significant that the Australian publishers feel no need to bridge the Tasman in their title, simply calling it the “Penguin Macaquarie Dictionary.” As much attention seems to be given to regional differences in language within Australia as to New Zealandisms, not just in flora and fauna, but in colloquial phrases as well. In New South Wales, working farmers talk scathingly of the “Pitt Street farmers” of Sydney; in Queensland, it’s the “Queen Street bushies” of Brisbane. The Auckland version does not rate a mention. Politics and business are fuel for plenty of colourful expressions. “Cowards’ castle” refers to parliament when used as an arena in which to vilify and abuse others while under parliamentary privilege. A “bottom-of-the-harbour-scheme” is a tax-evasion scheme whereby a company is sold and then resold so that the records,

etc, for that company seemingly disappear and the tax is not paid. Sport also figures prominently. Scarcely a verb is safe from some cricketing, surfing, or other sporting usage, and even apparently obvious words like “bush” (which warrants the best part of a page) have some surprises in store: “in the bush” doesn’t mean what you thought at all, it’s another surfing term, meaning “beyond the line of the breakers.” The research has been equally meticulous on swear words. '“The great Australian adjective” is here and so are plenty of other favourites, listed with all their finer shades of meaning. So, too, are plenty of unsavoury meanings for otherwise innocent words.

And, just in.case you run out of ideas, it seems you can even occasionally use the same phrase with two quite opposite meanings: “To run like a hairy goat” can mean either “to run very slowly” or “to run very fast.” •A “dag,” not the rattling kind, but the human variety, can be the odd, eccentric, or amusing person we are all familiar with, but it can also mean an untidy or slovenly person or, even more confusingly, a person who, while neat in appearance and conservative in manners, lacks style or panache. Although the attention to colloquial language is what gives this dictionary its colour, it also makes an effort to be up-to-date in science and technology, offering explanations of the Kelvin scale, the Doppler effect, and Planck’s constant, as well as video chips, A.1.D.5., and P.M.T. Given the level of detail in the dictionary, and the fullness of many entries, one regrets the lack of derivations arid etymology. An “alf,” we are told,, is “a male whose behaviour shows contempt for cultural pursuits, prejudice towards minority groups, low estimation of women as a Class, and a marked preference for male social company.”

Shades of Alf Garnett? The dictionary offers no clue. Similarly, I would like to know more'about the Buckley who gave his or her name to forlorn hope; the Darling whose shower is a dust storm.

And what about this tantalising comment on the weather: “Hot as Hay, Hell arid Booligal”? Now, hell I hope I can avoid, but where are the others? I would like to steer clear of them too!