It’s often said that English is easy to learn but difficult to master. You can pick up its basics in a few months yet spend a lifetime trying to master it — if you ever do. Thanks to a long history of invasion, conquest, and the absorption of other languages and cultures — most notably French and Latin — its Germanic base now sounds nothing like the way it looks. Written English leaves learners, young and old, scratching their heads. More likely, it makes them want to throw the book at the wall.
Consider a homophone series like threw–through–thru: identical sounds, different spellings, completely different meanings. And if the word homophone made you think of the holiday classic Home Alone (1990), you’re not alone. How about “phone home”? Only English can play with sound, spelling, and meaning in quite this way.
Of course, there are the old standbys like stink–stank–stunk and the irregular go–went–gone in verb conjugations, but my favorite way to play with the richness of the language is through phrasal verbs. These are verbs usually followed by a preposition or adverb that change the meaning of the verb stem. I run through them in my head like a brain teaser. Lately, I’ve been playing with break.

Here’s my list: break up, break down, break off, break in, break out, break through, break apart, break away, break over, break with. These are interesting enough, but even more interesting are the ones that don’t work for some reason — e.g., break on, break together, break under. Maybe in Australia they use break under in relation to surfing; I don’t know, but it would make sense. There’s also breakwater, which may also have to do with surfing.
If you find this too nerdy — especially four days into the new year with war and rumors of war breaking out all around us — consider this. A character I’m developing, a Jesuit priest who works on homicide cases, says this about his young assistant: “So, we really are a perfect team… she’s green and I’m jaded.” I smiled as I wrote it, pleased with the wordplay on jade and green. A reader wasn’t nearly as impressed. We’ll see what the publisher thinks. They may tell me to get a life.
I have to admit that AI has been a real help as I sort through grammar, meanings, and the history and etymology of words. It’s a fine tool if you know what to look for, what to ask, and when to challenge the results. Copilot and Grok can make mistakes. They can also misunderstand your requests — if I can use that word to describe a computer program or algorithm. Their logic, even after adapting to my writing style and way of proceeding, is still linear. They can feed back what they’ve received, but they can’t initiate anything on their own. They have no real presence just yet. Think about that theologically.
Recently, it helped me review a personal statement for law school. A friend of mine from Sudan had written it and asked for help with his English. I ran it through Copilot, corrected a few things, and suggested changes. He took it all in gladly, gratefully. Still, I couldn’t help wondering whether I had done him a service. He won’t be able to AI himself through law school, not studying immigration law and human rights.
I also remembered a job application I received a few years ago from another non‑native speaker looking for work. Eager to show that he would go above and beyond the requirements — which included light lifting and moving — he wrote that he was “available for hand jobs as needed.” I had to reread the line a few times.
Had it been around then, I’m sure AI could have saved him, maybe even helped him get an interview. That kind of eagerness deserves recognition. But so would a better understanding of the nuances of the English language — especially whether you’re dealing with a French or Germanic root word. Either that, or a few English‑major friends could have given him a manual.
Image credits: Hatice Baran, Kateryna Hliznitsova. For more, go to Robert Brancatelli. Visit other blog readers under “Who You Are.” Comment by clicking on “Leave a Reply” below or the Contact tab above.
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And I’m sure they were sorry to have ‘mist’ you! How does anyone learn this trickster language??
For what it’s worth, the green/jaded wordplay made me smile – and that’s always appreciated! Happy 2026, Rob!
You obviously have excellent literary taste.
Just come home to a note from my grandson letting me know I missed them. The note said: “We were hear!”