Obscure literary technique of the month: Anthimeria

From a blog called Words and Stuff: In rhetoric, anthimeria […] involves using one part of speech as another part of speech, such as using a noun as if it were a verb: “The little old lady turtled along the road.” […] Other substitutions could include an adjective used as a noun, as in “She dove into the foaming wet,” interjection as verb, as in “Don’t aha me!”, a verb as a noun, as in “Help! I need some eat!” and so on.

I want real examples of anthimeria in the wild, and I’m sure you do too. Naturally, various posts provide such examples.

Here, for example, at Poem Analysis:

Under the Greenwood Tree by Thomas Hardy 

The following lines come from Thomas Hardy’s novel Under the Greenwood Tree. He published it anonymously in 1872 and is the first in his Wessex series.

The parishioners about here,” continued Mrs. Day, not looking at any living being, but snatching up the brown delf tea-things, “are the laziest, gossipest, poachest, jailest set of any ever I came among. And they’ll talk about my teapot and tea-things next, I suppose!

Oh, and from the same source, here’s a line from King Lear:

When the rain came to wet me once, and the wind to make me chatter, when the thunder would not peace at my bidding—there I found ’em, there I smelt ’em out. Go to, they are not men o’ their words.

Here’s a post that refers to anthimeria as “overlooked” — but this post also points out how commonly people use this technique, so I would say it’s not overlooked at all, just not commented upon, and certainly not by name.

We see evidence of this all around us, that is, if we are paying close attention to it. A fascinating instance of anthimeria in popular phrases, though a rash one, is ‘pimp my ride’ — it is double anthimeria — the noun has been verbed, the verb has been nouned.

I like that example! Double anthimeria! And of course, I also like the locutions “verbing the noun” and “nouning the verb.”

Speaking of song lyrics, as I was recently, the linked post continues —

Music with lyrics has been revolutionized all thanks to this rhetoric. A personal favorite lyric is from Nancy Sinatra’s These Boots Are Made For Walkin’ — “Yeah, you keep lyin’ when you oughta be truthin’. And you keep losing when you oughta not bet. You keep samin’ when you oughta be a changin’. Now, what’s right is right but you ain’t been right yet.”.

I never noticed the lyrics of that song, but I love that line — You keep lyin’ when you oughta be truthin’ — that’s delightful!

All right, though I doubt I’ll remember the name of the phenomenon, maybe I’ll specifically notice it when I see it. Endless obscure names of common literary techniques! I do enjoy looking these terms up and nodding: Yep, English is a splendid language, isn’t it? It verbs nouns with the best of ’em! And adjectivizes well too, and so on.

This, by the way, is why it’s best to explain that you recognize verbs and nouns by whether a word is doing verb things in the sentence, or noun things. Is it verbizing? Or is in nounified?

Running is great exercise if you like that sort of thing. –> Is “running” doing verb things? No? That’s how you can tell it’s a gerund; an -ing verb that is acting as a noun. Not because it’s an example of anthimeria, but because that’s what a gerund is.

At this moment, the dog is running east. –> There you go, now “running” is doing verb things. Here, “running” is part of the verb.

The detective spent the entire afternoon dogging the suspect through the crowded city streets. –> Now “dog” has been verbized, an example of anthimeria. I think! Even though I verbized it by adding -ing, I think this still counts as anthimeria.