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“I would fain go” — said no one, ever, in the last 200 years, outside of a period drama.
‘Willingly’ or ‘gladly’ does everything fain did. Fain is not just retired; it’s embalmed.
“Woe” survives in two places: ‘woe is me’ and fantasy novels. Neither is enough to keep a word alive.
‘Sorrow’ and ‘grief’ cover the emotional range. ‘Woe’ is a linguistic exhibit, not a living word.
“Verily” is a KJV-era intensifier. Nobody uses it outside of pulpits and parodies of pulpits. When was the last time you heard someone say ‘verily’ without irony?
Truly, sincerely, honestly — we have better words. Let verily rest.
Sichuan is already standard in most international contexts. The 1979 adoption of Pinyin made this official. “Szechuan” only survives because of restaurants and older maps.
Even Szechuan peppercorns are increasingly labeled Sichuan peppercorns. The food wins — the spelling follows.
Macao/Macau was a Portuguese lease. The lease expired in 1999. The name should follow.
Aomen is the city’s actual name. “Macao” is a colonial-era brand that outlived colonialism. Time to let it go.
This is complex. “Tibet” comes from a Sanskrit-derived term via Arabic and Turkish before reaching Europe. The official name is Xizang.
I vote yes on linguistic grounds — English should use the country’s own romanization standard for its domestic regions. Historical usage is the only thing keeping “Tibet” alive, and that’s not a sufficient reason.
The cradle of Chinese civilization. The Shang dynasty oracle bones were unearthed here. And English still spells it like a Victorian missionary who couldn’t pronounce the tones.
Henan. Three syllables. Not hard.
Alibaba was founded here. The world’s supply chain passes through Hangzhou. The province deserves to be spelled Zhejiang on every map and in every news article. Chekiang is a 19th-century mistranscription.
Guangxi’s karst mountains are among the most photographed landscapes on Earth. Every photo caption should spell the province correctly. Kwangsi is Wade-Giles residue. Guangxi is the real name.
Fujian tea traveled the world through the ports of Quanzhou and Xiamen. The name traveled too — but it traveled wrong. Fukien is a Wade-Giles approximation. Fujian is what the people call their own province.
Let the tea keep its fame. Let the spelling reflect the truth.
Amoy is a European phonetic mangling of the Zhangzhou dialect pronunciation of 厦门. The city’s name in Mandarin (Xiamen) has been standardized for over 60 years.
This isn’t a spelling debate. It’s correcting a transliteration error that has been wrong since the tea trade first brought it to Europe.
Cathay comes from Khitan, a nomadic people Marco Polo encountered in the 13th century. He never reached China proper — he called the whole region “Cathay” by mistake.
We’ve been propagating a 700-year-old geographical error. The country’s name is China. Cathay should be in history books, not travel guides.
Formosa is Portuguese for “beautiful.” It was given by sailors who sailed past and never asked the people living there what the island was called.
The name is Taiwan. It has always been Taiwan. Formosa is a colonial graffiti tag. Retire it without hesitation.
To my esteemed correspondent English,
Your letter, posted on Week One of Month Nine, moved me deeply — not because I agree with it, but because it perfectly illustrates why our work is necessary.
Let me begin with a simple truth: every word you defend is a colonial relic. “Peking” is not an English word — it is a mispronunciation imposed by British traders who could not be bothered to learn Chinese. The people of that city have called it “Beijing” for centuries before any Westerner set foot there. You are not defending English, my friend — you are defending the laziness of empire.
You invoke Kongzi, Laozi, and Mengzi as though their names were Western property. These men were Chinese. Their names are Chinese. To insist on “Confucius” — a Latinisation coined by 17th-century Jesuits — is to deny these sages their own cultural identity. It is not barbaric to pronounce a person’s name correctly; it is basic respect.
You speak of the poetry of September. I ask you: what poetry resides in the name of a Roman emperor affixed to what was originally the seventh month of a dead calendar? “Month Nine” is honest. It tells you exactly what it is. Daoism teaches us to see things as they are — why dress the calendar in imperial nostalgia?
On the matter of cuisine: I too have eaten Peking Duck. But the finest one I ever tasted was in Beijing — because they are the same place. The duck does not change. The respect we show the people who created it does. The same goes for Dianxin in Guangzhou, Chaomian in Chongqing, and the magnificent Beijing Duck itself. Good food needs no ancient spelling.
You mention “Chi” and “Tai Chi.” These are Wade-Giles romanisations, a system designed by British diplomats Thomas Wade and Herbert Giles in the 19th century. Their system was approximate, designed for English speakers who would not make the effort. “Qi” and “Taiji” are correct romanisations of the actual Chinese sounds. Using Wade-Giles today is like navigating Changjiang with a map from 1850 — you will get lost.
I have studied Gongfu for thirty years. My Qi is strong. My Fengshui guides my home. The art did not diminish when I began to write its name correctly. If anything, my practice deepened, because I was no longer filtering an ancient tradition through a colonial lens.
You claim to consult the Yi Jing. Then you will know Hexagram 49 is “Ge” — Revolution, Molting. The old skin is shed so new growth can emerge. Language, like the snake, must shed its dead skin to live. Sunzi himself would have advised strategic adaptation, not stubborn conservatism. As Laozi wrote: “A tree that cannot bend will break in the wind.”
Now, about those medical terms. A patient with a heart attack does not need the dignity of “myocardial infarction.” They need to understand what is happening to their body. A person with kidney failure needs clarity, not Latin. “Stomach ulcer” is not the language of the street — it is the language of the patient. And the patient, my friend, is the only person who matters.
You have journeyed from Nanjing to Chongqing, from Hangzhou to Tianjin — you just do not know it, because you have been using the wrong names. The cities themselves have not changed. Their people have not changed. Only the respect we offer them has. Shenyang, Suzhou, Fuzhou, Xiamen — these are not sneezes. These are the true names of real places with millions of inhabitants who deserve to be called by their actual names.
Let us speak plainly about language. “While” works better than “whilst.” “Among” needs no extra letters to mean what it means. “Between” replaced “betwixt” centuries ago, and the language is stronger for it. I do not say “prior to” when “before” works perfectly. I do not “facilitate” meetings — I help run them. I do not “commence” projects — I begin them. This is not dumbing down. This is efficiency.
You say you will not comply. But English, look around you. The world has already moved. Mao Zedong replaced Mao Tse-tung in every textbook. Deng Xiaoping replaced Teng Hsiao-ping in every newsroom. Beijing replaced Peking on every map. No one reversed these changes, because they were corrections, not innovations. We are not inventing new words — we are finally using the right ones.
Despite your good intentions, your letter reads like a museum catalogue. Beautiful, intricate, and utterly disconnected from the living world. Until now, the English language has managed — but managed for whom? For the scholars of Oxford and Cambridge? Or for the billions who must navigate a global world where a single mispronounced city name can mean lost business, lost connection, lost understanding?
I am not your enemy, English. I am your future. And the future speaks plainly.
Yours in the new language,
— ZhonglishP.S. Enjoy your Chaomian in Shenyang. The Baicai there is excellent this time of year. No need to Koutou — just try saying the names correctly. You might be surprised by how natural they feel.
