(long thread)
As I was reading extraordinarily well-researched Hitler's biographies (Hubris & Nemesis) by Ian Kershaw, I was struck by toponymic anarchy that exists in contemporary English--even in best books.
As I was reading extraordinarily well-researched Hitler's biographies (Hubris & Nemesis) by Ian Kershaw, I was struck by toponymic anarchy that exists in contemporary English--even in best books.
1. Start with cities that have long-established English names. It makes sense to always write Warsaw or Prague regardless who happens to rule them at a given time. Kershaw does that.
2. It also makes sense to use historico-political terms like "the Danzig corridor" or "the Stalingrad battle" or "the blockade of Leningrad" without any other pedantic addition. (You should *really* know what cities are these.) Kershaw does that too.
3. But then difficulties appear. Should Posen (when in Germany) be called Posen, not Poznań? That makes sense too: it would sound strange to say that Hitler visited Poznań to give a speech there in 1935. But perhaps Poznań should be added between brackets?
Same for Kōnigsberg.
Same for Kōnigsberg.
4. Then it gets worse. Should it be Kowno or Kaunas? Wilno or Vilnius? The two latter are now common in English. Very few people know of Kowno or Wilno. But Kershaw uses them.
Or Mamel that Germany asked Lithuania to give up in 1939. How many people know where is Mamel?
Or Mamel that Germany asked Lithuania to give up in 1939. How many people know where is Mamel?
5. Or most strangely: for some cities Kershaw uses German names. Thus Zagreb is called Agram. I suppose 99% of non-German readers have no idea what city it is.
Idem for Brūnn (Brno).
Idem for Brūnn (Brno).
6. Should we have some broad rules to help people find their way in this linguistic, historical and geographical maze?
@threadreaderapp unroll
