One of the issues is the metalingual function of some such words. I’m not talking about homonyms (as beloved by crossword writers) where ‘to sanction’ COULD mean to give permission, or equally awkwardly, to bar something. Homonyms are best worked out in their context. Nor the dreaded homophones disliked by GCSE students everywhere trying to remember the right form of there/their/they’re and discreet/discrete. Nope, in a language with twice as many words in common usage as French, you might think we would be able to differentiate them better, but these words do have some rules attached to them and therefore can be mastered.
The hardest words for the non-English idiomatic speaker to get to grips with are those that require tone and knowledge of culture as well as knowledge of semantics. ‘Quite’ is just such a word.
An English speaking (so she thought) friend from the southern hemisphere was completely thrown by this. A colleague at her work had been away for a few days, and in her usual friendly style she enquired as to his health. She found out that it was not his health that was the concern, rather his mother was ‘quite poorly.’ Now, to the middle-class English ear, that sounds ominous. But to the Antipodean ear that means ‘only a little bit’ or ‘somewhat.’ It is at these moments that you quote Wilde that we are two nations ‘divided by the same language.’ Metalingual function is when you use the same word but mean it differently – like Iago in Othello but usually without the malicious intent.
Some of the problem is not just that the adverb can mean both ‘completely’ as well as ‘somewhat’, but that this is culturally driven. I might have had ‘quite a good time’ on holiday, but that may mean I am being a typical self-deprecating Brit unable to really let go and enjoy myself and what I should have said was ‘awesome!’ Or it could mean it was awful, but I am grateful to get away. The fact I use ‘quite’ at all is a class code in common parlance, so money should be on the former interpretation, rather than the latter. If there is a chance for some humility in there, you can be fairly sure the average middle class English speaker will seize it with both hands. Understatement is a huge part of the British psyche. The same goes for the expression ‘that’s quite good.’ Really this is the highest praise you can expect; we don’t want it to go to your head.
If we think about this culturally, it is not surprising that the work colleague described his mother as ‘quite poorly’ meaning very ill. If I say someone close to me is about to die, I might elicit sympathy and attention. People might even be nice. Even if we aren’t as modest and attention avoidant as this might seem, we ‘aspire to modesty’, according to the excellent Kate Fox (‘Watching the English’). If I conform to the stereotype, and I am afraid that this fits with more men than women, then I both want people to understand but I also want people to leave me alone and not make me the centre of attention. Hence ‘quite.’
Purely for amusement, I throw in two other misunderstandings of the same word. Whilst trekking in NZ, I snorted with laughter at the sign saying ‘Leave your thongs here’ at the hostel. To me, that’s an uncomfortable piece of underwear. The desk clerk looked up, but remembering I am British, they looked away again and all was well. Less happily was a certain blind date with a North American, arranged by a friend. ‘I’ll be wearing a blue shirt and green pants,’ the hapless gentleman informed me. ‘That’s too much information,’ I replied. He did not get the joke, and thus romance was doomed. I don’t know if an explanation of metalingual function would have helped him.
