More Than Just a Dot

Those Lost Among the Silent Instruments of Language

There is a common thread running through both what we read and what we write. Yes, quite literally: a full stop. Sometimes it's a comma, a question mark, or an exclamation mark! Less commonly used punctuation marks also make the occasional appearance amidst the jumble of paragraphs, fulfilling their unique functions without hesitation. You know them; they appear now and again, and we adapt our reading accordingly. We use them to add meaning to our writing. They help us control our breathing and can even alter the tone of the voice echoing in our minds as we read silently. Punctuation marks are our guests today. However, rather than focusing on them, we’re taking a look at their historical ancestors.

I’m not sure if any of the topics I’ll be discussing today will be familiar to you. I was surprised that I’d never come across these symbols before. When I first saw them in an image, I thought they were some sort of internet prank. The funny thing is that while researching these interesting symbols, which have since disappeared, I came across many more.

I’ll try to present them in chronological order based on their usage. I won't discuss every single symbol I've researched, as that would make the article too long. Let's then trace a path towards the present day. I'll also share an image so you can see the shapes I've described, as well as some others.

Let’s start with the oldest one I could find.

Photo by Mikhail | luxkstn on Unsplash

Tiro, the personal secretary of the renowned Roman orator Cicero, invented a system of stenography comprising thousands of symbols. This enabled him to take notes quickly during lengthy speeches. The most famous of these symbols was the Tironian et sign, which he used instead of the Latin word “et” (meaning “and”), and which bears his name. This symbol was used in monasteries, churches and legal texts throughout the Middle Ages. In fact, it became so widespread in Ireland that it can still be seen on some road signs today instead. Over time, however, it was replaced by the ampersand symbol (&). Is it more impressive that the Tironian et sign endured for centuries, or that it was eventually replaced by another symbol after all that time? I couldn't quite decide.

We have now reached the Renaissance period. Around the 1600s, a printer started using an inverted, horizontal version of the modern question mark. This was known as the percontation point. Its purpose was to distinguish rhetorical questions, where the answer is already known, from other types of question. Although it never became widespread, examples can be found in Shakespeare's early manuscripts. In fact, it seems to have been quite useful.

A few centuries later, people began seeking solutions to problems encountered when conveying irony and sarcasm in writing. A Belgian publisher proposed a symbol resembling an arrow. Meanwhile, a French poet suggested an inverted question mark. This symbol was dubbed the irony mark and was intended to emphasise that the sentence was not to be taken seriously. However, it failed to gain a permanent foothold in literature. The previous example could be considered a precursor to this. After all, aren't some rhetorical questions sarcastic?

We have now reached the 1960s, the modern era. Next up is the interrobang. This punctuation mark attracted attention as the first new one to be proposed for the English language in around 300 years. It was even incorporated into typewriters at the time, and thanks to Unicode, it remains in use today. See: ‽ But what was its purpose? It was actually conceived to assist with a situation that fiction writers might encounter: Sometimes, a question is asked that also conveys surprise, fear, or excitement. In other words, both a question mark and an exclamation mark are needed. Usages such as “!?” or “?!” are not technically correct, so the interrobang was proposed to address this issue. Despite this, it was only in use for about ten years.

Let's look at one more example. During the same period, a more emotional approach was adopted. In his essay “Plumons l'oiseau”, the French writer Hervé Bazin proposed six new punctuation marks. The most striking of these is the Love Point (Point d'amour). This mark is formed by two question marks joined together to make a heart shape with a shared centre. He argued that emotions could be expressed through punctuation as well as words. However, none of these proposals gained widespread acceptance. Or should we say, “thankfully”? What do you think?

You can see the symbols in the text and more here. Although this is the source from which I took the image, the compiler’s sources are listed below.

As you can see, there’s a lot on offer, and that’s not even the full list! Take a look at these two websites for examples of different punctuation marks: (Site 1 & Site 2)

Examples include exclamation marks and question marks with commas, angled exclamation marks sharing a single dot, a spiral containing a dot, another question mark requiring a masterful stroke, shapes resembling leaves and a pyramid of asterisks (the stars added beside a word when making a note in a book).

Throughout history, there has always been a desire to add to what already exists. We have never been content with what we had. Sometimes these ideas were put into practice, and sometimes they remained mere thoughts. However, what I’m really curious about is this: How have the symbols we use today managed to endure so firmly? Perhaps we don’t need as much variety as we think. Most of the time, three or four basic symbols suffice. Yet we are well aware of how essential these symbols are, as they are the voice of our silent communication.

For this reason, it is easy to understand why people propose new ones. As emotions and modes of expression diversify, existing symbols can sometimes fall short. The seriousness of what is enclosed in brackets can be lost, and quotation marks do not always provide sufficient emphasis. This is probably why most new proposals are derivatives of existing symbols.

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Nevertheless, we must acknowledge that innovation is not always welcomed with open arms. In a habit-driven field such as writing, for example, adopting new symbols can be challenging. Adding new symbols to those we are accustomed to can seem like a tiresome and futile endeavour. Take the inverted question mark, for example. How many of us can draw it quickly? It feels a bit like writing with our non-dominant hand, like the clumsy attempts of a child just learning to hold a pen.

The more complicated things become, the more likely we are to reject them. And it's not just in literature that we see this tendency. Take a look at the image below, for example. The most commonly used symbol in music is the treble clef. If you don't know how to draw it, it can seem rather complicated at first. After a while, composers naturally stopped caring and started putting their own twist on it. (Beethoven, you could try harder... Schubert, yours is OK!)

Drawings of the treble clef by some famous composers - Source

Yes, symbols and punctuation marks like these are important. They convey meaning and add nuance. Put simply, they are essential. The more they are misused, the more important they become.

Take a look at your keyboard and you will see lots of different symbols. You might not have noticed them before, and their positions and numbers vary from keyboard to keyboard. You’ve probably never used many of them before, either because you don’t know how to use them or where to use them.

Outside of literature, our everyday writing uses a very simple language and set of symbols. Nevertheless, we occasionally convey emotional states using emojis. For example, we can express irony, which we might otherwise indicate with brackets, using an emoji of a face rolling its eyes. We can show astonishment with a face that has wide eyes and a flushed expression rather than using an exclamation mark. This method is easier, more practical, faster, more colourful and more varied.

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As language, culture, emotional diversity, literary heritage and contemporary perspectives evolve, so do our needs. Yet more often than not, we make do with what we have. It seems as though humanity is turning a blind eye to its abstract values and requirements. This does not mean, of course, that we should strive for differentiation. However, failing to look beyond what we have at hand can create the impression that language is confined to a mechanical, rule-bound structure.