#6 - Hurried footsteps
Curiositas: Esineitä, tarinoita 1100–1917, published by the Suomen kansallismuseo, is a beautiful book. An art book, a book on Finnish decorative art. An aesthetic book, enameled with carefully chosen and skillfully arranged reproductions of masterpieces. A history book that, story after story, object after object, whisks us through the centuries. And finally, a work of literature, in an ample style that blends academic precision with the thrilling pace of fiction. In short, a fine find and a perfect training ground for us to learn Finnish like a machine. (Hakkarainen, 2021)
We linger a little longer in the 16th century, whose territories and borders furthest north we recently examined. Turku Castle of Duke John of Finland lights up at the arrival of Princess Catherine Jagiellon. Their recent marriage is the fruit of a bold political act: the count, son of Kustaa Vaasa, asked for the hand of the sister of the King of Poland Sigismund II, who was at war with King Eerik, John's brother.
The castle is getting ready:
Kiireisiä askeleita, kynttilöiden liekkien lepatusta, metallin kilinää.
Hurried footsteps, the flickering of candle flames, the clinking of metal.
The account is in a lively style, verbs are dispensed with. Recalling the « head-last » tendency of the noun phrase, the word-for-word correspondences are easily understood. Three head-nouns, then, each in their respective last position.
Kiireisiä askeleita, kynttilöiden liekkien lepatusta, metallin kilinää.
Hurried footsteps, the flickering of candle flames, the clinking of metal.
The second one compounds its complements, from English - which we expand into the tedious « the flickering of the flames of the candles » - to Finnish, the chain is exactly the opposite.
kynttilöiden liekkien lepatusta
the flickering of the flames of the candles
kynttilöiden liekkien lepatusta
the flickering of the flames of the candles
If we were to decipher such a sentence without the ruling guide of English, the difficulty would obviously arise not from syntax, but from vocabulary. Here, there is no real shortcut possible to acquiring, through exposure to massive quantities of textual data, the Finnic stems that lurk in the language. There is no shortcut to acquiring a large number of them. Stems. Not whole words, not an entire dictionary, but only the powerful cores - meaning and morphology - from which a plethora of cognate words shine forth.
Why so? Essentially because words, words veiled at first sight in arbitrary sophistication, do not bloom fully formed, all at once, nor by chance. Their complexity vanishes as soon as one regards them as the simple compilation of familiar building blocks, the logical transformations, semantic and grammatical, of a root of origin.
We will invoke four fundamental principles that relieve us of and render obsolete the impossible task of learning end-to-end full dictionaries and the entirety of every form encountered.
First, inflection. If kiireinen declines in 15 grammatical cases, some of which admit two forms, in a singular and a plural, and five times thirty other possible possessive variations, it is not reasonable to hope to memorize the jumble, regarding each form as a random sequence of letters. (One might as well give up Finnish and learn the telephone directory or the train timetables of every station in the country.) As vain as it is inadvisable. Because inflection follows rules, admittedly complicated, and complicated by exceptions, but exceptions that confirm that there reigns a certain order in the house.
Second, word derivation. If we decry the dry learning of grammar, and do not even claim to seek to learn grammar by inference, but prefer massive exposure to original texts and their translation - everything inclines us, of course, to invite to this anthology original texts about the language itself, linguistic treatises, from various angles. So, one of the very first Estonian books we read, this time all the way through and eagerly, was called Sõnamoodustus, word formation or derivation. (Kasik, 2015) Our attention was captivated: as though we had discovered a universal key. Word derivation. Rules, or from the speaker’s point of view, recipes, for forming verbs from nouns, nouns from adjectives, intransitive or frequentative verbs from other basic ones. The great house lights up, order becomes even clearer.
Thirdly, compounding - compounding and derivation alone condense the essentials of the formation of words, before their inflection. An absolute beginner in English will never learn the words icelight or airspeedometer, which nonetheless exist in the dictionary, without mentally breaking them down. Ice-light is « the light reflected off a surface of ice ». An air-speed-ometer « the instrument that displays an aircraft’s current airspeed ». It breaks down twice: first into airspeed and -(o)meter, where air-speed further breaks down into obvious components. With a little knowledge of aeronautics or poetry, one pieces the semantic parts back together.
Finally, our last ally is etymology. It is true that it is the best ally when you already know one or more languages from the same family - when you can sense the similarities right away. If not, you will have to work a little to make it your ally. Tracing the origin of a word, going back to the Proto-Finnic root, descending again towards other derivatives, tracing borrowings and influences, slows your reading today and accelerates it a hundredfold tomorrow.
Let us return to our story of a castle and a Polish princess.
Kiireisiä askeleita, kynttilöiden liekkien lepatusta, metallin kilinää.
Hurried footsteps, the flickering of candle flames, the clinking of metal.
Haste is not speed. There are, one senses, more emotions in the former, in the latter more science. The measured speed of a point, the constant speed of Newton’s inertial mobile on which no pressure is exerted. Comparable to rapidity or celerity, speed is the objective state or capability of rapid motion. Haste, hurry, on the other hand, is not coldly measurable nor ever passionless; it is, precisely, precipitation (latine prae-ceps, head-first) spurred on by a force, by eagerness or urgency - by empressement. It’s a surplus of speed, more than usual, too much of it - hasty conclusions - and needs an agent. It is human passion.
Interestingly, haste and rapidity both originate, it seems, in violence. Haste from a Proto-Germanic *haifstiz reconstructed as contestation, rivalry, conflict branching into the Old Norse heift for hatred, feud, war, the Old English hést, ferocity, the Old Frisian hast, anger, rush; further from a Proto-Indo-European *ḱeyp-: to mock or to anger - to provoke in sum violent emotion that urges to haste. (Kroonen, 2013, p.200) Rapid via Old French from a Proto-Italic *rapjō: to seize, to take away. Another descendant is rapine or rapt, seizure or abduction by force. Ravish in English, ravir in French, mean both to kidnap or plunder, and to seize, captivate senses and heart up to ecstatic delight.
What about kiireinen? Proto-Finnic *kiireh gave rise to the Estonian and Finnish kiire, in both a noun for haste, hurry. One etymology of Estonian suggests an ancient borrowing from Proto-Germanic *gīra-z or *girį̄: greed, itself from Proto-Indo-European *gʰer-: to desire. The usual Finnish word for fast, rapid, is nopea, comparable to Estonian nobe. The main etymological hypothesis finds an old Scandinavian borrowing, going back to Old Icelandic snœfr, fast. An alternative hypothesis leads to Proto-Finnic *noppidak: to pick, to pluck. Passion, enthusiasm, rapines.
This etymological voyage calls for two comments. First, although the Indo-European and Finno-Ugric language families are conceptualized as distinct, there is a certain porosity, with borrowings of various ages. Second, and fascinatingly, despite this lack of common ancestry, there is a great conceptual proximity between the two worlds. To express haste, at a certain point, the Finns seized upon a foreign, Germanic, word meaning greed, the force of desire. The tinge of conflict and hatred inherited by the English term is not far off. And the Latins for everything fast took *rapjō, abduction by force, later using it as well to convey enthusiasm, the force of passion.
Ultimately, one thing is certain: after such a trip, you will know once and for all that anything in Finnish - and Estonian - that revolves around the kiir- root is likely to have a certain vitality, eagerness, or haste.
Footsteps hurry, metal clinks. Consistency of concepts, at times, is matched by consistency of forms. This is particularly the case when the origin of the word is in the sound of the thing. The same onomatopoeia across the most foreign languages.
…, metallin kilinää.
…, the clinking of metal.
The Finnish kilinä derives from the verb kilistä, the direct heir of the Proto-Finnic *kilistäk: to tinkle, jingle, clink, all of which carry the sound they were forged to describe. In particular, the metallic clink seems fully foreign to its Finnic counterpart. It comes from the Proto-Germanic *klinganą, simply to sound.
Here, we note that the name kilinä does not derive from the verb kilistä in a completely random manner. There is, in the derivation of vocabulary words, yet again consistency, some system. -na/-nä is a noun-forming suffix: one of the approximately 70 noun-forming suffixes recorded in our grammar, and among them one of the approximately 30 suffixes of deverbalization, of forming nouns from a verb (verbikantaiset substantiivit). Recipes, assembly instructions that create around the same roots lexical clusters in halos.
The suffix of word derivation (or formation) conveys a nuance of meaning. From a verb, the Finnish forms nouns of actions and nouns denoting the result of an action, nouns of agents, nouns of instruments, nouns of places, and nouns of occasions. -na/-nä falls into the first box of this nomenclature: it helps derive nouns of action from verbs, mostly -ise-verbs, descriptive of a sound, sometimes also of a movement. Lorina is the gurgle, from the verb lorista (stem lor-ise-), meant to be onomatopoeic too. Munina from mumista (mun-ise-) is the mumble, the mutter, the murmur. « There are approximately 150 lexemes of action nouns derived from the root nA. » Adrift, semantic halos form:
jupina ~ marina ~ mukina ~ murina ~ mutina ~ napina ~ narina ~ nurina ~ rutina
Jupina is the grumbling, the mumble, marina adds a whining tone, its the quibble, with mukina the voice becomes plaintive, murina is the growling of an unhappy stomach or a discontent crowd
Palkkaratkaisu aiheutti murinaa.
The pay settlement caused grumbling.
mutina is the whisper of incidents, of mutineers
No muttering!
narina is the creaky voice that complains, nurina, napina are further variations of the grumbling, rutina assumes an overt colloquial figurative meaning
Lasten rutina taskurahoista.
The children’s grumbling about their pocket money.
and we can append to the rosary our earlier munina or following the creaking track further figurative kitinä, or more down-to-earth natina, nitinä - rather squeaking.
Our grammar offers another cloud, the busyness galaxy:
suhina ~ säpinä ~ tohina ~ vilinä ~ vipinä ~ sutina
Suhina describes the hissing sound, the humming of the wind, the whistling of swift skis on icy snow. Säpinä is the bustle, the flair, the zest of an surprise-party. Tohina is the breath of the wind in the treetops, the breath of the flame of the gas stove, but it’s also the too much of activity, the fuss, the hassle
There was quite a hustle and bustle.
Ihmis-vilinä is the bustling crowd, vipinä derives from a verb of movement this time, the onomatopoeic vipistä, to flap, to move back and forth. Sutina denotes both the rush and the flirt - the love affair. A joyful crowd of sonorous words circling around eagerness, hecticity, and hurry.
This is quite a niche skill, you might argue, with the tone of efficiency. Knowing how to make up noise names won’t get us very far. Perhaps not an everyday stuff, but an eloquently illustrative case: morphological derivation and semantic drift, from the proper and onomatopoeic to the figurative and the connotations rampant throughout the lexicon. Illustrative also of the distinction between inflection and derivation. For -na/-nä is also the inflectional suffix of the essive case, which we will encounter a little later, at the very end, still in Turku Castle.
What exactly distinguishes derivation from inflection? Both recipes do indeed produce new words by sticking on suffixes onto some stem. The most distinctive trait is precisely in the kind of new words that results. Inflectional suffixes produce forms of a same lexical unit, represented by the stem. Derivational suffixes produce new lexical units, and can change the part of speech. (A noun derived from a verb or an adjective from a noun, etc.) The resulting new lexical units have, in turn, inflected forms of their own. Inflection does not change the part of speech. As a corollary effect, derivation modulates meaning and potentially valency - the kind of complements the word admits - while inflection does not.
Back to our chandeliers. Maybe we’ll find in the halo of their faltering flames some more productive derivational suffix:
…, kynttilöiden liekkien lepatusta, …
…, the flickering of candle flames, …
To lepattaa, to flicker, the suffix -us is added, which transforms this and many other verbs into nouns of action. It is added to the weak vowel stem of said verb, final short vowel -a omitted:
lepat-a (weak vowel stem) → lepat- → lepatus (noun of action)
What guides the choice of the suffix -us is first the morphology of the verbal stem. It is particularly attracted to -Cta/-Ctä stems (C for any consonant). Semantically, such -us-nouns of action tend to denote a bounded - finite, telic - instance of the action (rather than the same action in the abstract). English also makes such an aspectual distinction, sometimes. Compare, from to recover and to startup, the bounded aspect in
The recovery from last week’s hike has been quicker than expected.
The startup of the engine was smooth.
and unbounded aspect in
Recovering is sometimes a tedious process.
Starting up the engine is routine.
Lepatus is the very flickering of those flames whose vivid description calls forth the visualization, there, breath held in anticipation of the Polish princess, at Turku Castle. It has a beginning and an end. If it flickers again in other circumstances, it will be another bounded flickering from other candles and other flames.
Here, there is a plethora of them.
hauskuuttaa → hauskuutus (amusing), opettaa → opetus (teaching), palauttaa → palautus (recovering), ulkoiluttaa → ulkoilutus (outdoor exercising)
Some 2,000 verb-noun of action duo pairs operate in this way. And this time, the suffix -us is strictly derivational. There is no inflection marked by -us.
Here, one last comment suggests itself before we pick up the thread of the story. So far, while some suffixes, such as -na, can serve both for derivation and inflection, we seem to have agreed on - and can discriminate clearly between - what derivation and inflection are.
Consider, however, degrees of comparison. By adding a suffix, one forms from the adjective tall its comparative taller and superlative tallest. First, it is debatable whether the part of speech is preserved. Two lexical units of the same part of speech are interchangeable in a given context: even if the meaning collapses, the grammar remains proper. One can substitute for the adjective tall in
Count Juhana is tall.
the adjective waterproof, even if the latter semantically prefers to apply to new shoes. However, taller in
Count Juhana is taller than the king.
cannot properly be replaced by tall or tallest:
*Count Juhana is tall than the king.
*Count Juhana is tallest than the king.
Those are not just meaningless, they are plainly wrong. We can say comparison alters the valency, where the comparative and superlatif admits complements the base adjectif form does not.
Yet, and back to Finnish, pidempi (taller) and pisin (tallest) do not have their special entry in the dictionary: they are systematic variations of a base lexical unit, pitkä. They don’t, but like independent lexical units produced by derivation, they have a full inflection table of their own: singular and plural, fifteen grammatical cases, plus possessive inflection. Our grammar rules:
If the comparative and superlative are counted as inflectional forms, they represent in that respect unusual inflectional categories, in that they do not apply to all nominals but only to adjectives and adverbs of a certain semantic type.
We will come across a comparison in a moment, but first, let’s open our eyes wide.
Catherine Jagiellon arrives with great pomp and circumstance, she unpacks her heavy trunk, everyone goes « Wow ».
Hänen matkatavaroihinsa kuului arkkukaupalla ylellisiä astioita, kankaita ja vaatteita – 113 vaatekappaletta. Loputtomasti kultaa ja hopeaa, ja jalokiviä. Rubiineilla koristeltuja koruja. Messinkikruunuja, hopeisia kynttelikköjä, pöytäkelloja. Keltaisia turkkilaisia mattoja, kullalla ja punaisin silkkinauhoin koristettuja punaisia ja turkkilaisesta damastista tehtyjä sänkyverhoja, atlassilkkisiä ja taftista ommeltuja sänkyvaatteita. Kölnissä tehtyjä ohuenohuita pöytäliinoja ja ruhtinattaren vaakunalla koristettu kullattu ja emaloitu hopeapeili.
It's the catalogue aria, a catalogue of decorative art.
Her luggage included chestfuls of luxurious vessels, fabrics and garments — 113 items of clothing. Endless gold and silver, and gemstones. Jewellery adorned with rubies. Brass crowns, silver candleholders, table clocks. Yellow Turkish carpets, red bed curtains made of Turkish damask decorated with gold and red silk ribbons, bed linens sewn from atlas silk and taffeta. Delicately thin tablecloths made in Cologne, and a gilded and enamelled silver mirror decorated with the princess's coat of arms.
The style is précieux, the vocabulary precise. Complex, the exerpt nonetheless exhibits unparagonized didacticism. For the lexicon repeats itself, in kindred forms. The known and unknown words compose together. Let’s identify some of these recurrences that guide our reading. First appears, piece of clothing, vaate.
Hänen matkatavaroihinsa kuului arkkukaupalla ylellisiä astioita, kankaita ja vaatteita – 113 vaatekappaletta.
Her luggage included chestfuls of luxurious vessels, fabrics and garments — 113 items of clothing.
which no longer causes surprise in sänkyvaatteita, translated as bed linen.
… , atlassilkkisiä ja taftista ommeltuja sänkyvaatteita.
… , bed linens sewn from atlas silk and taffeta.
We therefore now know bed: sänky-
… , kullalla ja punaisin silkkinauhoin koristettuja punaisia ja turkkilaisesta damastista tehtyjä sänkyverhoja, …
… , red bed curtains made of Turkish damask decorated with gold and red silk ribbons, …
and -verhoja is left for curtains. The same passage offers red and gold
… , kullalla ja punaisin silkkinauhoin koristettuja punaisia ja turkkilaisesta damastista tehtyjä sänkyverhoja, …
… , red bed curtains made of Turkish damask decorated with gold and red silk ribbons, …
But in reality, at this point in the text, we are already acquainted with gold and silver:
Loputtomasti kultaa ja hopeaa, ja jalokiviä. ... Messinkikruunuja, hopeisia kynttelikköjä, pöytäkelloja.
Endless gold and silver, and gemstones. … Brass crowns, silver candleholders, table clocks.
Silver that we cross again at the very end, at the mirror stage:
… kullattu ja emaloitu hopeapeili …
… a gilded and enamelled silver mirror …
So that mirror is peili - again, Germanists have an easy job: der Spiegel. The air goes on and on. Adornment & Co. for instance
Rubiineilla koristeltuja koruja.
Jewellery adorned with rubies.
…, kullalla ja punaisin silkkinauhoin koristettuja punaisia … sänkyverhoja, …
…, red bed curtains … decorated with gold and red silk ribbons, …
… ja ruhtinattaren vaakunalla koristettu … hopeapeili.
… and a … silver mirror decorated with the princess’s coat of arms.
The participe koristettu, its inflected variation koristettuja, and some cousin koristeltuja. Those derive from the adjective korea - beautiful, decorated - just as the substantive koru, jewellery.
Lastly, amongst these long participial phrases, one will become enamoured with the inimitable Finnish penchant for reverse stacking, for instance in
Kölnissä tehtyjä ohuenohuita pöytäliinoja ja ruhtinattaren vaakunalla koristettu kullattu ja emaloitu hopeapeili.
in Cologne made / delicately thin / tableclothes and of the princess / with the coat of arms / decorated / gilded and enamelled / silver mirror
It’s a renaissance at the castle. In addition to priceless jewels, the princess brings with her a flair for luxury and pleasure. A suite of cooks and the art of fine dining. The fashion spread to the nobility.
Ihmiset alkoivat janota yhä useampia asuja ja asumuksia.
People began to crave ever more outfits and dwellings.
In passing, with useampia we have the promised example, in its natural element, of a comparative - borderline, as we said, between derivation and inflection, but rather inflection, since it creates no new lexical unit, and no new dictionary entry. But it has its own inflected variations: from the adjective usea is formed first the base comparative form useampi (nominative singular), while our useampia is inflected in the partitive plural, the case required by the verb janota, to crave something.
Meanwhile, the Vasa family establishes hereditary kingship. Luxury is an ingredient of power.
Ja säädyissä oli pitkälti kyse nautinnoista.
And the estates were largely a matter of pleasures.
Here is a term laden with history: säädyt refers to the traditional social estates (nobility, clergy, burghers, peasants) of pre-modern society. Vasa buys the approval of the nobility and oppresses the poor. Curiositas highlights: a class struggle, or even war, säätyjen välinen sota.
The text, as we discover, is strewn with recurrences, variations on a theme - on Art Deco objects, on a story, a story of a castle, one of luxury, one of classes. These are the lexical leitmotifs that guide and enhance reading, and through the play of reminiscences, we become more and more fluent in the Finnish of this very text as we progress through it.
If Catherine Jagiellon's arrival at the castle marks an era in that place, the happiness of the young couple is very short-lived.
Juhana oli onnistunut naimakaupallaan lopullisesti suututtamaan veljensä, kuningas Eerikin, ja tämän joukot hyökkäisivät pian Turun linnaan ja veisivät sen renessanssihallitsijat vankeina mukanaan.
John had, with his marriage, succeeded in finally enraging his brother, King Erik, and the latter's forces would soon attack Turku Castle and take its Renaissance rulers away as prisoners.
We can quickly tour through correspondences. In the first proposition, we spot easily the verbal clause first
Juhana oli onnistunut naimakaupallaan lopullisesti suututtamaan veljensä, …
John had, with his marriage, succeeded in finally enraging his brother, …
and its direct object inflected in the accusative possessive form
Juhana oli onnistunut naimakaupallaan lopullisesti suututtamaan veljensä, …
John had, with his marriage, succeeded in finally enraging his brother, …
By process of elimination, or analysis, we recognise in naimakaupallaan an inflected form of marriage. For naida is the verb to marry, and kauppa has all the airs of contract. It is borrowed from Proto-Germanic *kaupōną, to trade, to buy, itself borrowed from Latin and whose ancestry haunts the entire Indo-European spectrum. Kauppa in Finnish means deal, transaction - or also supermarket. How do we get from the basic naimakauppa to the complex naimakaupallaan? First, the adessive case inflection, betrayed by the -lla suffix. Here the phenomenon of consonant gradation plays out and eats one p. The whole takes the third person possessive suffix. naimakauppa -> naimakaupalla -> naimakaupallaan. The adessive designates the place (surface) where one is. It is also the method, the mode, the instrument, or the circumstance, often rendered in English by with or by (means of).
Juhana oli onnistunut naimakaupallaan lopullisesti suututtamaan veljensä, …
John had, with his marriage, succeeded in finally enraging his brother, …
Compounding and inflecting, as in renessanssi-hallitsijat bearing the accusative plural mark.
…ja veisivät sen renessanssihallitsijat vankeina mukanaan.
… and take its Renaissance rulers away as prisoners.
But verbal forms first
… ja tämän joukot hyökkäisivät pian … ja veisivät …
… and the latter’s forces would soon attack … and take …
One must get used to it: mukanaan is the inflected form of an adverb. Broadly translated by with, with a notion of company, participation, association. Inflected in the 3rd person possessive: literally, taking along with them.
… ja veisivät sen renessanssihallitsijat vankeina mukanaan.
… and take its Renaissance rulers away as prisoners.
Vankeina carries not a noun-derivation suffix - that of tinkling and murmuring - but an inflection suffix - in the essive, the case of state and function: as, in the capacity of, in the quality of. Vanki too sounds germanic, borrowed from Old Swedish fange, to catch. Familiarity runs everywhere rampant: Norwegian få, German fangen, Dutch vangen, to get, German Gefangener, Gefängnis - prisoner, prison.
… ja veisivät sen renessanssihallitsijat vankeina mukanaan.
… and take its Renaissance rulers away as prisoners.
Decidedly, Catherine Jagiellon is one hell of a piece of history. Brought a fragrant luxury to the Swedish court, provoked internecine battles. There is more. Curiositas also suggest her as the linchpin of the 25-year war! The Long Wrath, whose more geopolitical stakes, at the border, we recently described.
Vuosina 1570–1595 käytiin 25-vuotinen pohjoismainen sota, eli pitkä viha, Ruotsin ja Venäjän välillä. Yhdeksi sodan syyksi on spekuloitu Venäjän Iivana Julman ja Ruotsin Juhana III:n kiista ja kilpailu siitä, kumpi saisi naida Katariina Jagellonikan.
In the years 1570–1595, a 25-year Nordic war was fought between Sweden and Russia, known as the Long Wrath. One of the speculated causes of the war is the dispute and rivalry between Russia's Ivan the Terrible and Sweden's John III over which of them would get to marry Catherine Jagiellon.
In truth, with our lexical antecedents and our prescience of context, armed with the rudiments of word formation, derivation, and inflection, matching flows naturally.
Yhdeksi sodan syyksi on spekuloitu …
is literally
*One of the causes of the war is speculated (to be) …
The precious style loves rarities and Latinisms. (spekuloitu) That facilitates our work.
on spekuloitu … kiista ja kilpailu siitä, kumpi …
*is speculated (to be) … the dispute and rivalry … over which of them …
on spekuloitu … kiista ja kilpailu siitä, kumpi …
*is speculated (to be) … the dispute and rivalry … over which of them …
… siitä, kumpi saisi naida Katariina Jagellonikan.
… over which of them would get to marry Catherine Jagiellon.
Venäjän Iivana Julman: (of) Russia’s Ivan the Terrible.
References
Hakkarainen, A.-K., & Häikiö, P. (2021). Curiositas: Esineitä, tarinoita 1100–1917. Suomen kansallismuseo.
Kasik, R. (2015). Sõnamoodustus (K. Kern, Toim.). Tartu Ülikooli Kirjastus.
Kroonen, G. (2013). Etymological Dictionary of Proto-Germanic (Leiden Indo-European Etymological Dictionary Series, 11). Brill.
Hakulinen, A., Vilkuna, M., Korhonen, R., Koivisto, V., Heinonen, T. R., & Alho, I. (2004). Iso suomen kielioppi [verkkoversio, VISK § 240]. Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seura. https://kaino.kotus.fi/visk/sisallys.php?p=240