The Danger of Dictionaries

This isn't a post about the illusion of linguistic authority, although that sounds like a good theme. Probably a better theme than what I'm going for here: the shortcomings of dictionaries and automatic translation. Everyone knows not to trust Google Translate too far. But we probably shouldn't trust the dictionaries and translator apps on our phones too much, either. (I'm guessing the dictionaries, with their fewer moving parts, are more trustworthy.) I rely on my apps, turning to them when I work on my Korean homework, or try to pick apart a phrase I've finally begun to understand in a K-pop song, or can't remember some Korean verb. And here are some examples of what my dictionary app has given me:

Fig. 1: Slocum?

Fig. 2: Yes. Of course.

Fig. 3: I... see.

뵙다 doesn't actually mean Slocum. I'm not sure anything in Korean means Slocum. (To be fair, very little in English means Slocum, either.) 뵙다 (poepta) means "to see or meet an honored person" and is part of Korea's intricate system of respectful and humbling words and grammar. Which brings us to figure 2 and 높임말 (nop'immal "elevated speech"). I wasn't sure how to spell it, but I was almost positive it didn't mean "raising horses." (Yes, it has something to do with being elevated, and 말 does mean "horse"—along with "speech"—but come on!)

And then there's figure 3. No wonder learning Korean is so difficult! Apparently I don't even know English! Slantindicular? Like... slanted?

I'm sure I'll dig up more hi-larious examples of this stuff. And when I do, don't you worry—I'll share them here.





Addendum (5/25/15): And here's another one.

Fig. 4

겁. You know. "Cowardice." Okay. Or "fear." Oh, you mean, like, recreancy? Sure, or recreancy. Good, good. Okay. Got it.



















Addemdum (6/13/15): This one's from a different dictionary app.

Fig. 5

I don't think 사랑한, from 사랑하다 (to love), means "The Ballerina Who Loves," although I'm sure that's a great movie.




















Addendum (7/15/15): Some more.

Fig. 6

While I wasn't sure what 경이 meant (see figure 6), I was almost positive it didn't mean "The next timeSer Meryn speaks,."

Fig. 7

Another example of these dictionaries teaching me as much English as Korean. I just thought I was checking to see whether this word is spelled 체육관 or 채육관—I'm probably going to have to check it every time—and I stumbled on to the lovely palaestra.

















Addendum (9/28/15): Two bizarrities for the price of one.

Fig. 8

Fig. 9

I couldn't quite remember the word 움지기다 (to move), and when I entered what would have been the adjectival version of the word (if the word had been 음지기다 instead), I got these two different examples of gibberish: Sadness and gladness succeed each other even greater increases in per capita and Tone-deaf. Standardized tests. Two glorious gems of timeless wisdom. They belong in a fortune cookie. It makes you wonder what other horizon-exploding insights are hidden inside the mind of this dictionary, when entering a nonword yields stuff like this.