⟨iu⟩ versus English

A simple little pair of letters, ⟨iu⟩. Mysteriously, it’s all but invisible to English-speaking readers. My evidence for this?

First is the overwhelming preponderance of ⟨ui⟩ in English. 'Cause if you cruise with quick guile and bruise fruit, you get juice. Our brains are programmed to see only ⟨ui⟩.

I first noticed something was off back in 5th-grade history class. We were learning about Queen Liliʻuokalani. The textbook back in those days printed it without the ʻokina symbol. I read in my textbook “Liliuokalani” and heard the teacher pronounce it “Liliokalani.” I looked back at the word in the book and again heard the teacher say “Liliokalani.” Wondering, was I the only one who noticed the discrepancy?

The martial art jiu-jitsu is practically the only familiar word in English with ⟨iu⟩. This invariably gets changed to jujitsu. In fact, that’s correct because the ⟨i⟩ is silent. The former spelling is a relic of an obsolete system of transliterating Japanese. So I think this example helped form the scales over the eyes hiding ⟨iu⟩ from English-speaking readers.

The names Giuliano, Giuliani (Italian equivalent of Julian) suffer greatly at the hands of English speakers. Mario Puzo wrote The Sicilian about the famous brigand Salvatore Giuliano, but insisted on misspelling his name “Guiliano.” That only contributed to the problem. Look how, more often than not, Rudy Giuliani is misspelled as “Guiliani.” Once seen, cannot be unseen. I have to wonder how the name Giuseppe has escaped the same fate. Or… has it?

When Mariupol was in the news, invariably non-Ukrainians spelled and pronounced it either “Maripol” or “Marupol,” but ⟨iu⟩ may as well not exist.

Looking over the names of Inuit tribal groupings, most of them end in ⟨miut⟩: Nunavimmiut, Iglulingmiut, Netsilingmiut.

Iñupiaq groups, in common with Inuit-speaking groups, often have a name ending in “miut,” which means ‘a people of’. One example is the Nunamiut, a generic term for inland Iñupiaq caribou hunters.

Cite: Iñupiat#History

I felt acutely aware of the cognitive dissonance an English-speaking reader might experience seeing all those -miut names at once. The ⟨iu⟩ may then become impossible to ignore. It might, just might, be enough to make the scales fall from their eyes.

Podium? Helium? Opium? Lithium? Cranium? Aquarium? Tedium? Medium? Gymnasium? Sodium? Radium? Radius?

Ah, the old exception that proves the rule. I’m describing words that don’t end in -ium. When iu occurs in initial or non-final syllables. The familiarity of -ium is a fixed form.

Like “triumphant” or “diuretic”, say?

It’s a borrowing from Latin, the neuter adjectival suffix.

There has to be some way to account for the pattern of iu-blindness in the examples I listed. My hypothesis is the way familiarity can program the brain to only see certain things and miss seeing others.

Well, you may be a genius, but you’re not exactly a demiurge.

Johanna, correct me if I’m wrong:

What Johanna is talking about is the paucity of words in English (esp non-borrowed native vocabulary) in which the spelling “iu” represents a single syllable’s phonetic nucleus. Especially a stressed syllable, and especially in syllables that are not Latinate word endings.

The OP reminds me of former pro hockey goaltender Mike Liut, who spent his prime years with the St. Louis Blues and Hartford Whalers. But even Liut’s name was pronounced as two syllables.

Thank you, bordelond. You saved me from fumbling for the right words.

Your point is actually pretty subtle, and is challenging to grasp without a little phonetics in one’s back pocket.

Thinking on your OP some more: native English phonotactics haven’t seemed to yield many singular syllabic nuclei spelled “io”, either. Common words like lion use “io” to represent two syllabic nuclei, as you are aware.

Hmm. Would “prosciutto” count?

Borrowed from Italian, which is rife with “iu”.

For a similar example, with all the ghastly ghetto ghost lights, the two-letter combo ⟨gh⟩ is very familiar, but ⟨dh⟩ is completely foreign. That’s why everybody and their brother and their cousin keeps changing Gandhi to “Ghandi.”
“Against stupidity, the ghods contend in vain”

“⟨iu⟩ versus English”? iu is going to lose. Cite: the entire history of English.

All 31 non-capitalized words in the Moby Pronunciator file containing -iu-, excluding those with -ium (like helium) and -ius (like radius).

It seems as if in most of them, the i and the u are in separate syllables. The exceptions seem to be prosciutto, jiujitsu (both already mentioned in this thread), piu (“more,” in musical notation), echiuroid (a kind of worm), and arseniuretted (“combined with arsenic”).

Perhaps ⟨iu⟩ is spelled yu or ju when you want to get the sound you mean? It comes close, but I admit it is not exactly the same.
On a similar vein, Germans are incapable of saying ⟨eu⟩, the always pronounce it ⟨oi⟩ , like in Freud (Dr. Sigmund) or Freude. I guess that sound would have to be spelled ëu, but the letter ë is not on my German keyboard. Spelling rules sometimes have unintended consequences.

Speaking of dh (which someone above did) reminds me that one spelling reform we should all agree on is that voiced th (as in this and that) logically ought to be spelled dh to distinguish dhem from the unvoiced ones (as in thin and thick). Old Norse had consonants eth and thorn to distinguish dhem. Does Icelandic still use dhose letters?

Yup.

Looking at this more closely … “ui” itself seems to typically come from Medieval French borrowings – albeit borrowings with a long history of English usage.

In the quote, “quick” is indeed a native English word.

I just watched the K-drama Hotel Del Luna a few days ago, in which IU plays the main character, Jang Man Wol. This caused me to interpret the thread title IU versus English entirely incorrectly. I thought her pronunciation of the few English words in the show was pretty good. :crazy_face: