#16 WORD SERIES: "SORT OF"

I said, “Oh my gosh. I just drank some water with a bite of bread between my molars and the bread stayed dry. Maybe the tongue deserves some credit for more than providing taste buds or expressing disdain. It’s amazing that the tongue can keep bread and water separate in so small a space. Isn’t it?” I asked.

“I guess. Sort of,” said he who listened.

“’Sort of’? What kind of answer is that?”

What I meant in asking what sort of answer was that, was not, “How could you say that.” Rather, it was, “What’s with the phrase, ‘Sort of”?” I’ve heard it often lately.

“Were you pleased with the World Cup half-time program?”
“Sort of.”

“What color is the sofa fabric?”

“It’s sort of fuchsia”

“This is sort of a difficult question to ask, but does it look like I’m gaining weight?”

“Sort of, but don’t let my answer get you out of sorts.”

“Are you glad we came to the Mariner’s game?”

“I am, sort of.”

“What sort of price do you have to pay to sit in the shade?”

“I t’s a rediculous sort of sum..”

“Does this look like Barb?”

“Will I get in some sort of trouble if I mention that’s an old picture?”

On its own, “Sort” defines a particular kind, a class or group. Middle English used it to describe arranging things, ‘to sort.’ By the 15th century it began being used as we use it today, to soften, to hedge, to avoid straightforwardness. We can reach back to its Latin origin, sors, meaning fate or category. 17th century typesetters arranged sets of letters into what they called “sorts.”

It’s a noun when one says, “You know the sort.” It can be a verb, “How about you sort the socks this time.” It can approximate an adjective, sort of cold today, or soften an adverb, I sort of wish we had . . .“  It’s a hard-working word, “sort” is, until you tack to it the preposition “of,” and add nothing more. Then it’s downright evasive.

 “Of”? a newcomer to English might ask. English has twenty prepositions, every one of them meant to connect something said before it to something said after it. Of is one of them. When “of” is tacked colloquially to “Sort,” it fails to, or refuses to, connect. Go ahead, try to define the word sort to an English language newcomer when it’s used this way.

“Sort of” has become a phrase that buys us time, allows for partial truth, and hedges on a grand scale.

“It is sort of amazing that bread can stay dry while a person’s tongue takes water to the throat, don’t you think?”

“Sure, okay. Sort of.”