Kaip nereikia rengti žodynų

collaboration, a longitudinal study—a continuous or ongoing study, successiveness (the opposite of simultaneity)—sequence or order, validity (a criterion for the quality of experiments and psychological measurement instruments—their suitability, adequacy)—appropriateness. In addition to these observations, a certain lack of consistency may also be mentioned. Without delving into questions of terminological systematicity or consistency of usage, it is enough to say that the dictionary editors cannot make up their minds whether psychologists in the USSR still exist or not. The same A. Luria is called a Soviet psychologist in one place and a Russian psychologist elsewhere (once, even on the same page). Such inconsistencies, however, are very easily corrected. One must assume that, when preparing new editions of the dictionary, its editors will correct quite a few things, including the shortcomings mentioned above. Perhaps they will also give more serious attention to developing Lithuanian terminology. All the more so because, as the examples presented show, Lithuanian terms are often both clearer and shorter. After all, psychologists surely want to be understood and to have as many people as possible read their work. Birutė LENKTYTĖ HOW NOT TO COMPILE DICTIONARIES Nowadays, quite a few different dictionaries—and especially glossaries—are being published. Looking at the numbers, one might exclaim in admiration at both the scale of the work and the large contingent of lexicographers, dictionary compilers, and publishers. For it has been known since ancient times that, of all linguistic endeavors, writing dictionaries is the most difficult. And so many people are at work on them! What great linguistic aspirations—flights, indeed! A true golden age of lexicography. Alas, alas... Leafing through more than a few of the latest fruits of our lexicographic labors, one is soon disappointed: many compilers and publishers too readily expect to enrich Lithuanian lexicography. There is an abundance of rushed work, and of compilations and collections that are extraordinary—simply worthless. More than one compiler and publisher turns out to have not the slightest understanding of how dictionaries should be written and published. One of the most important, fruitful, and authoritative fields of Lithuanian language work is being turned into a lexicographic business, a kind of linguistic Gariūnai. For what has been put first 106 is not the enrichment of Lithuanian lexicography, nor the quality of the work, but the material enrichment of the compilers and publishers themselves. How much worthless stuff people buy—and, if they learn anything from those dictionaries, how many falsehoods they learn! Admittedly, this “business” is pursued above all by more than one compiler or translator of general bilingual dictionaries, phrasebooks, and dictionaries or glossaries of economics, business, and similar fields. One cannot amass wealth from dictionaries in other fields. Nor are they pursued and published with such fervor. As state publishing declines and expensive private book publishing, ever more widespread and evidently seeking quick, large profits, expands, the time will soon come when a scholarly book or a specialized dictionary can be published only by the author himself, out of his meager salary. Instead of receiving even a little for the fruits of his labor, he will have to pay publishers, printers, and booksellers to profit from it, as had already happened before the war to Prof. L. Vailionis, head of the compilers of the “Lithuanian Botanical Dictionary.” And the old folk wisdom will be entirely borne out: you will not grow rich through learning—only hunchbacked. Thus, after becoming acquainted with the “Glossary of Plant Anatomy and Morphology Terms” published by the Vilnius State Pedagogical Institute (now Vilnius Pedagogical University), by Stasė Janonienė1, I was moved to write about it not at all because the author might have wished to make a profit (that was not the purpose for which this glossary was written and published), but because she had a strong desire to help students who would become biology teachers better understand the terminology of their discipline, as she herself writes in the glossary’s preface: “to help them assimilate the terms, systematize and make sense of the concepts of plant anatomy and morphology, prepare students to use scientific literature, etc.” (pp. 1–2). These are very serious and commendable aims. A higher pedagogical institution, that school for teachers, surely does not and cannot have greater aims than preparing good—even very good—teachers. And above all, a good teacher must be well versed, indeed exceptionally well versed, in the subjects they teach. Inadequate command of h o w t o t e a c h can in no way be made good by exemplary command of h o w t o t e a c h. The purpose of the glossary is to help studen- 1 J a n o n i e n ė S. Augalų anatomijos ir morfologijos terminų žodynėlis. Vilnius, 1990. 40 p. 107 it would be better for them to learn what to teach. It is impossible for a non-botanist to judge how suitable the glossary is for teaching botany itself, but, unfortunately, it will do little to help teach and develop botanical language. First of all, it is not at all clear to the glossary’s reader why at least half of the preface (more than a page) is devoted, as stated, to “providing basic information about the spelling, pronunciation, and accentuation of Latin words” (p. 2). After all, the glossary contains not Latin words, but words borrowed from other languages and adapted to Lithuanian. It is true that explanations of the origins of Lithuanianised derivatives have also been included (for example, dorsalis – Latin dorsum – back, p. 12; although here, too, there is a lack of precision in more than one instance, as in this case—why was the Latin adjective dorsalis not mentioned?), but the original source of a large proportion of these words or their morphemes is Greek (the explanations of origin give them in simplified Latin transliteration). Reading the very concise account (a few rules) of Latin accentuation (p. 3), one discovers that the glossary’s author considers these loanwords in our language to be Latin words and accents them according to Latin rules—she writes: “1. In polysyllabic words, the following is stressed: 1.1. The penultimate syllable, if it is long (aleurónas). 1.2. The third syllable from the end of the word, if it is short (aktinomórfinis)” and so on. That is why the glossary first and foremost astonished me with its peculiarities of accentuation: it uses only the acute accent mark, and a considerable number of words are, judged by standard-language rules, colloquial. It seems the author did not know that Lithuanianised loanwords are accented according to the rules of the Lithuanian language! Or is this a new term in accentology? Nevertheless, linguists will certainly not follow the “Glossary of Plant Anatomy and Morphology Terms” for the time being, and will mark the intonations of stressed syllables (that is, they will use more than just the acute accent mark); but, even if they hear or find a word accented somewhere, they will not teach people to accent aerenchima 4, atmosfera 7, biosfera 8, chaláza 9, chlorenchima 9, chondriosoma 10, chromatómera 10, chromonéma 10, chromosóma 10, citoplázma 11, diafrágma 11, diástra 11, diktiśóma 12, egzína 13, epibléma 15, epitéma 15, floéma 17, flóra 17, gaméta 18, grána 19, and so on—more than fifty second-declension nouns of the second accentuation pattern, all accented incorrectly. The nominative singular forms of all of them— 108 the nominative and instrumental singular forms must be stressed on the ending, that is, arenchimà, atmosferą, biosferą, chalazą, chlorenchimą, diafragmą, diastrą... hialoplazmą, intiną, kaliptrą, karioplazmą, kolenchimą, koleorizą, komisūrą, ksilemą, leptonemą, lizosomą, membraną, meristemą and others, up to the last term of this type, zoosporą. Unfortunately, in this glossary only one term (ekosistemą) is stressed on the ending, and even then with the wrong accent mark (the grave accent is required). Here are some other kinds of accentuation errors in the glossary: fitohormonai 17 (=fitohormonai), fotosintezė 17 (=fotosintezė), periferija 31 (=periferija), politomija 32 (=politomija), protoginija 33 (=protoginija), tetraedras 37 (=tetraedras), zoofilija 39 (=zoofilija), and so on. In addition, for compound terms, for some reason only the first element is marked with an accent, for example: achromatinė verpstė 4 (=achromatinė verpstė), amfitbloeminė sifonostelė 5 (=amfitbloeminė sifonostelė), all the way to vegetatyvinio dauginimosi 38 (=vegetatyvinis dauginimasis). It is therefore clear that the glossary under review is entirely unsuitable for learning accentuation. Prospective teachers are taught to accent words incorrectly here, which is a serious breach of the general requirements for language education in both higher and secondary schools. Dictionary users are, of course, accustomed to thinking that all the text in contemporary dictionaries is written according to the current spelling rules: the terms provided (many of them do not appear in general-language dictionaries, so terminological and other specialized dictionaries are their only sources for standard spelling), the explanations, and finally the equivalents in other languages, all conform to the spelling rules of those languages. That is how it should be. This is indeed the case in dictionaries prepared at least somewhat well and published with care. Unfortunately, the “Glossary of Plant Anatomy and Morphology Terms” contains various spelling errors (not merely proofreading errors): some headwords are misspelled, for example: androcėjus 5 (=androcėjus), endemai 14 (=endemai), empyrinis 14 (=empirinis), generatyvinis 18 (=generatyvinis), genecėjus 18 (=ginecėjus), partenogenezė 31 (=partenogenezė), plasmolizė 32 (=plazmolizė), trachėjos 38 (=trachėjos); there are also spelling errors in the explanations, for example: abecėlė (=abėcėlė; entry stigma 35), išsiskyrimas (=išsiskyrimas; entry gutacija 19), išskirimas (=išskyrimas; entry ekskrecija 13), kurinys (=kūrinys; entry rep-raduktyvinis 34), molekulė (=molekulė; entry chromomera 10), netoks 109 (=ne toks; entry hemiceliuliozė 19), oranžinė (=oranžinė; entry karotinas 23), pasisukymas (=pasisukimas; entry anizotropija 6), žiuželiai (=žiūželiai; entry zoospora 39), and so on. There are numerous spelling and transcription errors in the Latin and Greek glossaries cited in the explanations of the terms’ origins. Thus, the glossary in question cannot be trusted without reservation with regard to spelling either; nonstandard pronunciation of words crops up in more than one place. The glossary contains terms that have not been sufficiently or properly adapted to Lithuanian, for example: dichasis (Latin dichasium 11; =dichazis =dvistypis žiedynas BŽ 455), funikulus (Latin funiculus 18; =funikulas =sėklasaitis BŽ 374), perpendikuliaris (Latin perpendicularis 31; =perpendikuliaras =status), sinezezis (Greek sinezezis 36, syniezis BŽ 379; =sinizezė), sora (Greek sóros 36; =soras BŽ 391, TŽŽ 458), and so on. The glossary primarily explains terms of foreign origin. Since the existing Lithuanian equivalents of these loanwords are not given everywhere, and those that are given are not highlighted or distinguished from the surrounding text, users are taught only to understand loanwords, but, one might say, are not taught the available Lithuanian terms. For example: andafazė 5 (BŽ 24 and tol neslioji fazė), androcejus 5 (but BŽ 219 gives only kuokelynas for this meaning), asimiliacija 7 (BŽ 40 and įsisavinimas), bazalinis 8 (pamatinis), bivalentas 9 (BŽ 87 bivalentos žr. dvynės, geminos), dermatogenas 11 (BŽ 300 main term—odapradis), hipoderma 21 (BŽ 179 and poodis), meristema 26 (BŽ 275 and ginamasis audinys), and so on. It is true that botanical terminology has not yet been sufficiently Lithuanianised; in this respect, too, the “Dictionary of Botanical Terms” published in 1965 contributed very little. So at least familiar Lithuanian terms should be carefully preserved if there is no determination to Lithuanianise terminology further. For this reason, it is difficult to understand why the diminutive cielė “cell” was included in the glossary under review (p. 9; seven decades ago the discussion ended with ląstelė), why štatyvas (p. 37) was included even though it is absent from normative works (=stovas, pastovas), or why the word antskiltė appears in the explanation of the term epikotilis (p. 15), when BŽ 31 treats that word’s variant antskiltis as the main term (so does TŽŽ 141). Incidentally, the glossary in question contains other, uncommon term variants as well, for example: alkoloidas 5 (cf. alkaloidai BŽ 20, TŽŽ 23), libriformos 26 (cf. medienos plaušai, libriformas BŽ 328, 262, TŽŽ 288), nitrofilai 28 (cf. nitrofitai, azotamėgiai BŽ 298, nitrophilous— 110 galai, nitrofitai LTE VIII 208, nitrofilai see nitrofitai TŽŽ 341), perispermis 31 (cf. perispermas BŽ 320, LTE VIII 560, TŽŽ 376), etc. Among the oddities in the glossary, one must also include the term used only in the explanations kiaušaląstė 6, 7, 31, 35 (= kiaušialąstė BŽ 203, DŽ 337, etc.). The term velamenas 39 is included in the glossary (incidentally, BŽ 431 gives the term šaknų apvalktis for this purpose, Latin velamen); in the explanation of another term, does it not simply turn into velenu (see korpusas 24)? It is appropriate for a teaching glossary to explain various terms and their variants found in the literature, but users of such a publication must also be clearly told which forms are recommended for use. And, of course, the compiler of the glossary must set an example for students in the use of terminology. The meanings of the glossary terms are explained. It is possible that the explanations drew on entries from the list of lexicographic sources included at the end of the booklet (9 publications in all). It is strange, however, that the list did not include Botanikos terminų žodynas (V., 1965) or the Lithuanian encyclopedias. Perhaps for that reason—or perhaps not—quite a few explanations are inaccurate, and some are simply wrong. Writing an accurate, clear, concise explanation of a word or term is a task that requires great knowledge and skill. It requires excellent command not only of the subject but also of the fundamentals of lexicography. Just as reading a textbook on internal medicine is not enough to enable one to treat people, browsing through or even reading a dictionary is not enough to qualify one to write dictionaries. Unfortunately, authors or compilers of dictionaries and glossaries often lack this latter skill and even fail to appreciate its importance. It is not only the ability to explain meanings that is needed. Like every kind of work, lexicography has many secrets, and its own theory and practice. To become a lexicographer, one must devote no less time to mastering the field than to learning botany. Unfortunately, the author of the Glossary of Terms in Plant Anatomy and Morphology clearly failed to grasp this “little detail.” Now to the explanations of the glossary terms themselves. First, a considerable number of the many adjectives included in the glossary are explained entirely incorrectly. They are usually explained here as nouns, often even as concrete nouns—that is, as the names of actual objects (adjectives denote qualities; nouns derived from them name those qualities); for example: achlamidinis “a flower without a perianth” 4, aciklinis 111 “spirališkas žiedas, its parts attached in a spiral” 4 (these two terms are explained as types of flower, rather than as particular qualities of a flower), akropetalinis “upward growth of a plant. Branching of the apex” 4 (explained as the name of an action or state), autochtoninis “starch of local origin, formed in the place where it is found” 7 (thus, according to the glossary’s author, this word names a type of starch!), ciklinis “a whorled flower, its parts arranged (=arranged) in circles” 10 (here it is not a quality that is explained, but the concept of a “cyclic flower”), edafinis “soil factors affecting plants” 12, mitologinis “a tale about gods” 26, optinis “an instrument based (=based) on the laws of the propagation of light” 29, and so on without end. It is true that some explanations in Botanikos terminų žodynas suffer from the same problem, but suitable explanations can also be found there; compare: aceiklinis – 1) the reviewed dictionary, p. 4: “a spiral-shaped flower, its parts attached in a spiral”; 2) BŽ 12: “not forming a circle, spiral-shaped”; 3) TŽŽ 10: “having an open (unbranched or branched) chain of carbon atoms.” apokarpinis – 1) the reviewed dictionary, p. 6: “the gynoecium of a flower, composed of unfused carpels”; 2) BŽ 35: “composed of unfused carpels.” Second, some explanations are unclear, for example: parakarpis “unilocular ovary and parietal placentation (see) gynoecium” 30, staminodis “a flower stamen that is sterile—that does not produce pollen” 36, zigota “when gametes fuse, a cell is formed that gives rise to a new organism” 39, and so on. These are unclear because they are phrased as descriptive sentences. What is staminodis—a state, a quality? What is zigota—the process in which, when gametes fuse, a cell is formed that gives rise to a new organism? BŽ says something different using the same words: staminodis “a prominent sterile stamen without pollen” 404 (that is, a type of stamen), while zigota is “the cell formed when gametes fuse, usually giving rise to a new organism” 485 (that is, the cell itself). By expressing an idea inaccurately, one can also write down some great absurdities, for example: evoliucija “the development of change in the world and society” 15 (evolution is change or development itself, not “the development of change”), funikulus “seed- 112 The initial stalk is called a funicle 18 (surely one should explain here what a funicle is! Indeed, in BŽ 374, the glossary uses “seed,” so that this little structure, Latin funiculus arba funiculus umbilicalis, Russian семяножка, фуникулюс, is likewise called a funicle in Lithuanian. Thus, this funicle has been taken from Latin, or perhaps Russian), and in the definition “the entirety of a flower’s petals is called a corolla” 18 (the same comment? BŽ has no such term at all, only vaislapynas—Latin gynaeceum, gynoecium, gynoeceum, Russian гинецей), so here a Russianism has been elevated to a headword, while the definition of the gynoecium has been inserted in its place), and so on. The student will not know whether to believe the lecturer or BŽ when the definitions of terms differ; compare akrogamija, “the pollen tube enters the interior of the ovule through the micropyle (see)” 4, and “the penetration of the pollen tube into the ovule through its apex, rupturing the tissue, when the micropyle is closed because the integument has fused completely,” BŽ 16–17; akrotonija, “the uppermost branches of a whorl, located closer to the apical, parent shoot” 4, and “the arrangement of buds and lateral shoots on the main axis in which the buds and shoots increase progressively in size toward the apex, so that the largest buds or the strongest shoots developed from them are in the apical part of the main axis. <...>” BŽ 17; anemofilija, “wind as an intermediary in the pollination of plants” 6, and “pollination of flowers with the help of wind,” BŽ 26; and so on. Many examples could be given that clearly show that the glossary’s author, St. Janonienė, does not know how to define terms. This was evident from the examples already given, and many others would confirm it, for example: kommensalizmas, “as they grow, plants harm one another” 24 (cf. “one of the forms of interspecific coexistence of organisms: individuals of one species (commensals) live continually or temporarily at the expense of another species without harming it,” TŽŽ 254); maceracija, “when the middle lamellae dissolve, the cells become loosened in the tissue” 26 (cf. “the loosening of individual cells in a tissue after the middle lamellae have been dissolved. <...>” BŽ 267); poliploidija, “during nuclear division (=division), the number of chromosomes increases” 92 (cf. “an increase in the number of chromosomes in the nuclei of plant cells to more than twice the single chromosome number characteristic of that species,” BŽ 334); zoochorija, “animals disperse fruits” 39 (cf. “dispersal of seeds with the help of birds or livestock,” BŽ 485), and so on. 113 and so on. There are cases in which general biological terms are defined in the glossary solely as botanical terms, for example: biocenozė, “plant community” 8 (cf. “a community of organisms encompassing the entirety of flora and fauna in a particular habitat,” BŽ 86). In teaching publications—and not only in those—one must nevertheless give the full range of a term’s meaning. It is better and more convenient to introduce users to the true meaning of a term all at once, rather than in several stages. And now, matters of language. The glossary’s author clearly paid far too little attention to language. Besides the previously mentioned peculiarities of stress and spelling, there are many inconsistencies, as though the term had been taken from one source and its definition from another, for example: astrosklerėidė, “stone cells (=stone cell) with ray-like outgrowths” 7; ekstrafloralinė nektarinė, “nectaries (see) that are located not in the flower but, for example, on leaf stalks (=a nectary located not in the flower but, for instance, on the petiole)”; geofitas, “terrestrial plants (=plant) whose (=whose) renewal buds are hidden (=are hidden) in the ground” 18; velamenas, “the covering of aerial roots, composed (=composed) of dead cells. <...>” 39, and so on. The definitions use incorrect words, for example: bestruktūrinis (= bestruktūris) in the definition of the term kuticula 25; beazotinis (= beazotis) in the definition of the term tinidai 37; there are incorrect expressions, for example: fiksavimas, “the treatment of cells, tissues, or organs with various substances that keep them unchanged for a certain time (=unchanged)” 16; and punctuation errors. Add to this the various other shortcomings in the glossary’s lexicographic preparation—terms not entered in alphabetical order, for example: bazipetalis 8, heterogeninis 20, oksifolitai 29, and so on; unexplained terms, for example: dominavimas 12, heterotipinis 20, koguliuoti 24, objektas 29, and so on; and a considerable number of terms included in definitions with a see reference are missing, for example: branduolys (see homogeninis 21), geografinis (see endemai 14), mikrobas (see fitoncidai 17), nektarinė (see ekstrafloralinė nektarinė 13), polisacharidas (see hemiceliuliozė 19), protoplastas (see ergastinis 15), vegetacija (see efemeras 12), and so on. There can be no doubt that users will gain little from the glossary under review, while it may do much harm. It will not fulfill the role of an “auxiliary educational resource for students specializing in biology” (p. 1). 114 It is regrettable that the glossary’s author was not helped by the reviewer, Prof. A. Janonis, who shares her surname. “A Dictionary of Plant Anatomy and Morphology Terms” is yet another fairly typical example of contemporary lexicography, showing that people who have no idea how dictionary writing is done (let alone any sort of preparation for it!) often take on the task. Abbreviations BŽ – Botanikos terminų žodynas// Vyr. red. J. Dagys. V.: Mintis, 1965. DŽ1 – Dictionary of Contemporary Lithuanian// Ed. J. Kruopas/ 1st edition. V.: State Political and Scientific Literature Publishing House, 1954. LTE VIII – Lietuviškoji tarybinė enciklopedija. V.: Mokslas, 1981. T. 8. TŽŽ – Tarptautinių žodžių žodynas// Ats. red. V. Kvietkauskas. V.: VER, 1985. Note: the numerals written next to an abbreviation indicate the page of that dictionary on which the term mentioned is included. St. KEINYS 115