Random
Linguistic Darwinism: Can a brand name kill the thing it was named after?
Before Facebook, there were facebooks. When I was in college, “the facebook” was one name for the (ink and paper) Pomona student handbook’s most-perused section, the photo directory of incoming freshman. Other designations were the lookbook and, more crudely but most aptly, the menu. Plenty of schools had them and many also called them the facebook. Facebook corporate mythology has it that founder Mark Zuckerberg got the idea for Facebook from the facebook issued by his high school alma mater, Phillips-Exeter. In any case, this kind of directory is surely what the company was named after.
Presumably, college students don’t need facebooks anymore because they have Facebook. I doubt they’ve been totally phased out, but I do wonder if they are still colloquially referred to as facebooks. Wouldn’t that be too confusing?
There are plenty of cases when a brand name became the de-facto generic name for something, like Kleenex or Coke (at least here in Atlanta) or Oreo. But this is a different phenomenon, wherein the brand name takes a generic thing’s name and applies it to a new form of that thing, thereby making the generic name and thing obsolete.
My father frequently uses the construction “all a-twitter.” Twitter is, after all, a verb meaning to make successive chirping noises (hence the Twitter bird icon) or to tremble with excitement (my dad’s usage is somewhat of an amalgam). Surely, much as people don’t say “gay” to mean “happy” anymore, uses of the generic verb twitter–when not in reference to micro-blogging–will diminish to nothing. But this still isn’t as extreme as the Facebook example, in that people are no less happy for not being called gay, and birds cheep no less for not being described as twittering, whereas colleges really might stop printing their own facebooks now that there is one big Facebook.
I’d love to hear if anyone can think of any other examples of this phenomenon, especially older examples–or was Facebook the first to murder its forebears?
Tags: Darwinism, facebook, language
Exeter did indeed have a face book. I don’t know if they still do this. We got it in the mail the summer before school started so we could see what our classmates and roommates looked like. It was spiral bound. Yale also did this as did countless other colleges and universities. My picture was… awkward in each instance I am always fascinated by how people act like Zuckerberg dreamed up the idea of Facebook. There was a long history of face books you could actually hold in your hand before he came along. Of course, I’m old.
I think search is becoming synonymous with the word Google. Great post.
Um, hi, they better exist, because you can’t kiss a computer screen when you think somebody’s cute.
Or you could, but. No. Paper.
Thanks, Roxane! I updated the post to reflect better what the mythical part of it is :-)
That would be pretty great it “google” replaced “search” entirely. “I googled his eyes for any sign that he still cared.”
Oh that would be divine.
The word ‘hoover’ is often used instead of ‘vacuum cleaner’, and we often ‘hoover the floor’ although hoover is actually a specific brand name. This might just be a British thing, though. Is this the sort of thing you are talking about?
Beautiful post, Amy. I’m always fascinated by how language evolves with the times, and I like to think I’m open to these changes, but I’m not sure how I feel about googling someone’s eyes to see how much he cares. I guess I could check his status update on Facebook to find out for certain.
the word “twilight”: totally ruined.
For some reason words themselves can be sort of ruined or sullied for me once they become the name of a car model. I don’t know why. Just seems like the word suddenly has a big lump of ugliness on its back. Not quite what you’re getting at with this post, but there it is.
I can think of at least one other example of this phenomenon – the word “mixtape” in hip hop used to mean a compilation on tape by a DJ. Then rappers and DJs started to release “mixtapes” in the CD era, meaning an unofficial compilation of an artist’s work. Now the second definition predominates, and you often hear “so-and-so releases a new mixtape” by which they may not even mean a CD anymore, but an album-length collection of mp3s. “Mixtape” no longer means “mix on tape” at all. Of course, “mixtape” isn’t someone’s brand now.
I went to Exeter, and I will attest to the fact that we had facebooks, at least in 1972. We called them ‘facebooks.’ This other new fangled thing I call ‘facebook nouveau’ ‘fauxbooks’ ‘libros de felicidad’ or ‘notbooks’ or sometimes just ‘doris.’ Anyway, the one advantage of the brick and mortar, ink and paper glossy covered real facebook from Exeter is that you could hold onto your facebook and get a new one every year and watch your body and your soul wither and die over the course of four years and keep them all as a sort of keepsake of your tragic and terrible life. You can’t do that with this new one. I prefer the old facebook.
Speaking of Hoover and the appropriation of proper nouns, Yip Harburg (who wrote BROTHER CAN YOU SPARE A DIME and SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW) did it wonderfully, and it would make for a good early-mid century cultural history exam. I score about a 40% on this one, not knowing things like the Venus de Milo pink brassiere or the Dubarry Dipstick.
(Try to get a copy to hear him sing this, his voice is sweet and kind of tin pan alley awful but really sweet and he pronounces ‘vacuum’ like this: vac-you-um – it’s an easy habit to pick up.)
“Napoleon”
Napoleon’s a pastry,
Bismarck is a herring,
Alexander’s a crème de cacao mixed with rum,
And Herbie Hoover is a vacuum.
Columbus is a circle and a day off,
Pershing is a square — what a pay-off!
Julius Caesar is just a salad on a shelf,
So, little brother, get wise to yourself.
Life’s a bowl and it’s
Full of cherry pits,
Play it big and it throws you for a loop.
That’s the way with fate,
Comes today we’re great,
Comes tomorrow we’re tomato soup.
Napoleon’s a pastry,
Get this under your brow:
What once useta be a roosta’
Is just a dusta’ now.
Dubarry is a dipstick,
Pompadour’s a hairdo,
Good Queen Mary just floats along from pier to pier,
Venus De Milo is a pink brassiere.
Sir Gladstone is a bag — ain’t it shocking?
And the mighty Kaiser, just a stocking.
The Czar of Russia is just a jar of caviar,
And Cleopatra is a black cigar.
Yes, my honey lamb,
Swift is just a ham,
Lincoln’s a tunnel, Coolidge is a dam.
Yes, my noble lads,
Comes today we’re fads,
Comes tomorrow we’re subway ads.
Homer is just a swat,
Get this under your brow:
All these bigwig controversials
Are just commercials now.
Better get your jug of wine and loaf of love
Before that final bow.
Exeter did indeed have a face book. I don’t know if they still do this. We got it in the mail the summer before school started so we could see what our classmates and roommates looked like. It was spiral bound. Yale also did this as did countless other colleges and universities. My picture was… awkward in each instance I am always fascinated by how people act like Zuckerberg dreamed up the idea of Facebook. There was a long history of face books you could actually hold in your hand before he came along. Of course, I’m old.
I think search is becoming synonymous with the word Google. Great post.
Um, hi, they better exist, because you can’t kiss a computer screen when you think somebody’s cute.
Or you could, but. No. Paper.
Thanks, Roxane! I updated the post to reflect better what the mythical part of it is :-)
That would be pretty great it “google” replaced “search” entirely. “I googled his eyes for any sign that he still cared.”
Toyota Celica. What does “Celica” even mean? I think of a gel or a paste.
Oh that would be divine.
wikipedia says it is derived from the Latin word coelica meaning “heavenly” or “celestial”.
The word ‘hoover’ is often used instead of ‘vacuum cleaner’, and we often ‘hoover the floor’ although hoover is actually a specific brand name. This might just be a British thing, though. Is this the sort of thing you are talking about?
Beautiful post, Amy. I’m always fascinated by how language evolves with the times, and I like to think I’m open to these changes, but I’m not sure how I feel about googling someone’s eyes to see how much he cares. I guess I could check his status update on Facebook to find out for certain.
the word “twilight”: totally ruined.
For some reason words themselves can be sort of ruined or sullied for me once they become the name of a car model. I don’t know why. Just seems like the word suddenly has a big lump of ugliness on its back. Not quite what you’re getting at with this post, but there it is.
I can think of at least one other example of this phenomenon – the word “mixtape” in hip hop used to mean a compilation on tape by a DJ. Then rappers and DJs started to release “mixtapes” in the CD era, meaning an unofficial compilation of an artist’s work. Now the second definition predominates, and you often hear “so-and-so releases a new mixtape” by which they may not even mean a CD anymore, but an album-length collection of mp3s. “Mixtape” no longer means “mix on tape” at all. Of course, “mixtape” isn’t someone’s brand now.
I went to Exeter, and I will attest to the fact that we had facebooks, at least in 1972. We called them ‘facebooks.’ This other new fangled thing I call ‘facebook nouveau’ ‘fauxbooks’ ‘libros de felicidad’ or ‘notbooks’ or sometimes just ‘doris.’ Anyway, the one advantage of the brick and mortar, ink and paper glossy covered real facebook from Exeter is that you could hold onto your facebook and get a new one every year and watch your body and your soul wither and die over the course of four years and keep them all as a sort of keepsake of your tragic and terrible life. You can’t do that with this new one. I prefer the old facebook.
Speaking of Hoover and the appropriation of proper nouns, Yip Harburg (who wrote BROTHER CAN YOU SPARE A DIME and SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW) did it wonderfully, and it would make for a good early-mid century cultural history exam. I score about a 40% on this one, not knowing things like the Venus de Milo pink brassiere or the Dubarry Dipstick.
(Try to get a copy to hear him sing this, his voice is sweet and kind of tin pan alley awful but really sweet and he pronounces ‘vacuum’ like this: vac-you-um – it’s an easy habit to pick up.)
“Napoleon”
Napoleon’s a pastry,
Bismarck is a herring,
Alexander’s a crème de cacao mixed with rum,
And Herbie Hoover is a vacuum.
Columbus is a circle and a day off,
Pershing is a square — what a pay-off!
Julius Caesar is just a salad on a shelf,
So, little brother, get wise to yourself.
Life’s a bowl and it’s
Full of cherry pits,
Play it big and it throws you for a loop.
That’s the way with fate,
Comes today we’re great,
Comes tomorrow we’re tomato soup.
Napoleon’s a pastry,
Get this under your brow:
What once useta be a roosta’
Is just a dusta’ now.
Dubarry is a dipstick,
Pompadour’s a hairdo,
Good Queen Mary just floats along from pier to pier,
Venus De Milo is a pink brassiere.
Sir Gladstone is a bag — ain’t it shocking?
And the mighty Kaiser, just a stocking.
The Czar of Russia is just a jar of caviar,
And Cleopatra is a black cigar.
Yes, my honey lamb,
Swift is just a ham,
Lincoln’s a tunnel, Coolidge is a dam.
Yes, my noble lads,
Comes today we’re fads,
Comes tomorrow we’re subway ads.
Homer is just a swat,
Get this under your brow:
All these bigwig controversials
Are just commercials now.
Better get your jug of wine and loaf of love
Before that final bow.
Toyota Celica. What does “Celica” even mean? I think of a gel or a paste.
wikipedia says it is derived from the Latin word coelica meaning “heavenly” or “celestial”.
I didn’t used to even know about this form of the word. I always thought of mixtape as the mixes of songs you give someone else (especially someone you like-like), but felt awkward saying it when the mix was on CD, but I didn’t want to say “mix-CD” either, and now (as you mention) they’re all just playlists instead of CDs anyway.
How about “yahoo”? Can’t use that as an exclamation anymore without thinking of the search engine. I really can’t think of any others, though–the other case (brand name becoming the common word) really is much more common.
i’m going to patent something revolutionary and name it “the”. y’all watch out now.
I didn’t used to even know about this form of the word. I always thought of mixtape as the mixes of songs you give someone else (especially someone you like-like), but felt awkward saying it when the mix was on CD, but I didn’t want to say “mix-CD” either, and now (as you mention) they’re all just playlists instead of CDs anyway.
How about “yahoo”? Can’t use that as an exclamation anymore without thinking of the search engine. I really can’t think of any others, though–the other case (brand name becoming the common word) really is much more common.
that sounds kind of awesome
that sounds kind of awesome