Küllaltki is a tricky word in Estonian. It shows quantity, but in an ambivalent way. It can be barely enough and it can be more than enough. How’s that? Let’s take the word and analyse it in grammatical portions.
It is often useful to start unraveling the meaning of an ambiguous word from its end instead of its beginning. At the end of “küllaltki” we have the suffix (i.e. end part) -ki. These two letters are attached to the end of a word to add emphasis and to indicate the importance of this particular word in the sentence structure as a whole. According to the most authoritative handbook of Estonian grammar (available on the University of Tartu’s Dspace), -ki is the most often used one among these suffixes that can attach themselves to different types of words. For example, in addition to “küllaltki,” which is an adverb demonstrating a certain quality, we can attach -ki to verbs (“läkski” = one actually went), to nouns (“raamatki” = even the book), to numbers (“ükski” = just one), to pronouns (“nemadki” = even these people), to words indicating spatial relations (“juureski” = was or was not even near) and so on.
Next up is the suffix -lt. It can be identified as the ending of the ablative case (alaltütlev kääne) that is used when we speak about removal of something from a certain surface, (laualt [from a table], järvelt [from a lake]), or from someone (sõbralt [from a friend]).
But it can also be interpreted as a suffix that turns an adjective into another adjective with a different meaning. An example: “libe” –> “libeda” –> “libedalt,” where the adjective “slippery” miraculously turns into another word that denotes something that glides along smoothly or proceeds with minimal effort. It should not come as a surprise that, similar to the -ki suffix, the -lt ending forming adjectives is also among the most productive endings when it comes to affiliating itself with all types of other words, not just certain ones. The only requirement of -lt is that it needs to be attached to the genitive form of the word, not the nominative form.
… “küll ” is a Finno-Baltic word that is also recorded in the Sami language. In Estonian, its function is to emphasize a statement. In languages that were spoken in Karelia, it denotes a full stomach after a hearty meal. In Sami, “galle” can indicate that a sufficient amount has been reached…
So, which word is “külla?” If this is the genitive form, what is its nominative form? And what does it mean? In Estonian, the genitive form always ends with a vowel. When we remove that, we are left with “küll.” As in “Hea küll” (“All right”).
My favourite dictionary, the one that estimates the age of the words by comparing the appearance of the same word in other Finno-Ugric languages (Eesti etümoloogiasõnaraamat, accessible at eki.ee/keeleinfo/sonastikud) says that “küll” is a Finno-Baltic word that is also recorded in the Sami language. In Estonian, its function is to emphasize a statement. In languages that were spoken in Karelia, it denotes a full stomach after a hearty meal. In Sami, “galle” can indicate that a sufficient amount has been reached, or it can function as a question word for asking “how many?” or “how much?” In Finnish, “kyllä” simply means “yes.”
The meanings vary quite a bit, with the common trait being that something is sufficient.
One more source for which we can turn to in search of explanations of weird Estonian words is Wiedemann’s dictionary, which explains mid-19th century Estonian expressions in German. Under the entry for “küll,” one of the German equivalents that is used is “fülle.” Should it surprise us that it means “abundance?” The German word is, in turn, related to the English “full,” which can be used with the same meaning as the Karelian “külläine,” when one has had enough to eat.
So, I propose Estonian and its closest related languages simply borrowed the word from Germanic languages. “Küllaltki tõenäoline.” Relatively feasible. Languages make contact across distances, and they spread useful words to each other. “Küll,” “küllalt,” and “küllaltki” are all definitely useful words. “Küllaltki” emphasises the quality of something, inviting us to reflect—has it been carried out in its fullness, in the best possible way, or in a way that’s just so-so?
And then while I’m doing my things here in Toronto, I might wonder sometimes, is what I’m doing “küllaltki hea?”
