Not quite 13 reasons why “fuck” is a really great word

13 Reasons Why is an interesting, stylish, well-acted, and controversial television series adapted by Brian Yorkey for Netflix from Jay Asher’s novel Thirteen Reasons Why (2007). The series is thick with coming-of-age themes. Profanity is one of them, and it’s all over the dialogue, as you’d expect, but one of its central characters, Clay Jensen (played by Dylan Minette) memorably awakens to both the pleasure and the gravity of profanity in “Tape 4, Side B” (1.8), which aired, with the rest of the series, on 31 March 2017.

As the series opens, Hannah Baker (played by Katherine Langford) has committed suicide and has recorded her reasons for doing so — thirteen of them — on cassette tapes sent after her death to the people she holds responsible for it. That’s a disturbing premise, and some critics found the presentation of it troubling, as well. Clay isn’t one of those reasons, though the tapes are delivered to him, too, and he listens to them, gradually learning what things had been going on in Hannah’s life besides their falling in love, horrible things, things swearing was made to resist and relieve. Continue reading

#BlueFalcon

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Who fucks who, and why should we care?

This is a guest post by Alon Lischinsky, Senior Lecturer in Communication and Discourse at Oxford Brookes University, who — after working many years on materials like management books and corporate annual reports — is now studying the language of porn using corpus linguistics. He tweets at @alischinsky.

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The British police drama Broadchurch can be gritty, uncompromising and bleak, but rarely sweary. Despite the grim events that rock the small coastal town, whole episodes pass without any strong language other than the occasional expletive shit or bloody hell. By the time that Cath Atwood gets coarse in S03E05, it’s because her husband and best friend’s affair has truly fucked her up:

Screenshot from Broadchurch, with Cath confiding: "She shagged my husband. Or he shagged... They shagged each other."

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Oh, scrap — My son’s swearing with euphemisms!

At this writing, my son, Ollie, is seven-and-a-half years wise, so of course he’s begun to swear, albeit on mostly innocuous terms. Trust me, he hasn’t learned to swear from his mom or dad. We’re careful to set a good example around the kids. And we’re not big swearers ourselves. True, every time Jenny heard George W. Bush talk about the Iraq War on the radio she muttered, “Pig-fucker,” but that was before we had children, and given recent political events in America, she’s unexpectedly nostalgic, historically and linguistically revisionist.

Ollie has picked up profanity from friends, of course. He has no phone yet and doesn’t text, so OMG isn’t in his spoken lexicon. He can’t depend on initialism for euphemism. He started to interject Oh, my god in the usual places — frustration with his parents’ decisions, moments of surprise or wonder, frustration with intractable Legos or intermittent Netflix, well, mostly frustration, I guess. We sympathize and we know, too, that frustration often requires verbal expression and relief. Nevertheless, we discourage Oh, my god and recommend Oh, my gosh, instead.

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