A book is a volume. A volume of content.
A volume is a mass. Or a void of specific extent.
Volume. late 14c., "roll of parchment containing writing, large book," from O.Fr. volume, from L. volumen (gen. voluminis) "roll (as of a manuscript), coil, wreath," from volvere "to turn around, roll" (see vulva). Meaning "book forming part of a set" (1520s) is from a sense in French. Generalized sense of "bulk, mass, quantity" (1620s) developed from that of "bulk or size of a book" (1520s), again following the sense evolution in the French version of the word.
Vol at turning.
V is a voiced labiodental fricative.
Features of the voiced labiodental fricative:
Its manner of articulation is fricative, which means it is produced by constricting air flow through a narrow channel at the place of articulation, causing turbulence.
Its place of articulation is labiodental, which means it is articulated with the lower lips and the upper teeth.
Its phonation is voiced, which means the vocal cords vibrate during the articulation.
It is an oral consonant, which means air is allowed to escape through the mouth only.
Because the sound is not produced with airflow over the tongue, the central–lateral dichotomy does not apply.
The airstream mechanism is pulmonic, which means it is articulated by pushing air solely with the lungs and diaphragm, as in most sounds.
The "vvvvvvvvvv" sound, vibrating between the lower lip and the upper front teeth. Followed by the deep hum of "uuuuuuuummmmmmmmme".
Grenier's habit of proposing the existence of a word as an object, an independent phenomenon [Gr.], asks that we separate the sound, the appearance and the (referential) meaning--as constituent parts of the structure of a linguistic unit (word)--from each other, and treat them as discrete aspects. Our focus on this has a vicarious quality, as if looking at single words, nakedly exposed, detached from the inherent connectivity of syntax and denotation/connotation, would yield up underlying modes of content, habitually ignored or suppressed in the inertia of reading.
For Grenier, the ultimate reification occurs in two possible places:
>The visual figure - ' marks in space ' - as a design of letters which we inherit from the tradition of accepted structured clichés.
>The aural figure - self-sounded oral performance which the syllables so/set enable.
The word VOLUME in Roman capitals. We see it and we hear it simultaneously. What qualities of apprehension occur in this process?
Personally, I experience the word as an echoing enclosure, deeply sounded, as of the inside of a distillation still, or enormous barrel, silo, empty warehouse space. Since the word volume means an extent of anything--filled or empty--the lack of a specific material reference suggests emptiness (an empty contain-ment/er). The heavy "ume" phoneme sweeps through this vacancy like a sheet of numinous oscillation. The V and Ume sounds are among the most vivid in the English language. Think of Poe's Ulalume. Williams's oo-la-loo-la-loooooom.
The sound of a jet overhead creates a "rooooooommmm!" sound--the feeling of being under such a considerable mass. Think of being under a vehicle as it "roarrrrrss" over you--"voooooommmmmm!" We are beneath powers, as under storms, thunder, things falling out of the sky, thunder. There's a scientific purity to the word which resists ambiguity--a fitting limit to its elaboration. Compare it, for instance, to a word like pinochle--which is almost like a rare jungle bird. VOLUME has all the chirrupy suggestiveness of a steel nail.
How do words work? Or, rather, what are the connections between the meanings assigned to certain sounds, and our apprehension of their underlying suggestiveness as independent segments of language? Music is organized sound, but language is organized music and defined meaning conjoined. The attachment of connotative triggers suggests that there is a whole universe of reference echoing within a given population of speakers. The vacuum of mind sucks up the stray usages and expressions, saved within unconscious memory, in the vastness of the world-bank-trust. Welcome to the party.