Sunday, December 28, 2008

Quarry

Per the note of my last post, quarry happens to be a -y word that is striking both visually and aurally. It can go anywhere. It can stay in; it can go out. It’s well-formed and well-spoken.

Saturday, December 27, 2008

Peaty

From an article by one Isabel Choat, in the Travel features section of The Guardian, December 27, 2008. The author is writing about a 22-mile hike across Dartmoor.

“My boot sank into the freezing peaty water.”


[Note to readers: when I choose these words ending in y, I do so as a reader. If these words were spoken aloud, they would not necessarily qualify for inclusion in this blog. There is eye sense and there is ear sense. I am choosing with my eyes and with (for lack of better words) my inner ear.]

Monday, December 22, 2008

Tinny

Is it the word, or is it the way Anthony Powell sets it in a sentence? Below, from A Question of Upbringing, first volume of The Music of Time. By luck I am reading a volume printed at the Windmill Press, Kingwood, Surrey, and into the pages are pressed tiny flecklets of what I can only guess must be some kind of mica. (Book mica?) Reminds me of the year a building on Park Avenue and 79th Street went up; the owners laid a very sparkly sidewalk.

“His eyes began their monotonous, tinny glistening.”

Friday, December 19, 2008

Prestigey

Here a colloquial word that speaks visually to its French roots, from Joshua Rothkopf’s review of Revolutionary Road, in the December 18–31 issue of Time Out New York. I appreciate how seldom the reviewers award a film six stars.

“The movie is occasionally prestigey (it’s time to put composer Thomas Newton out to pasture), but no film featuring Bug’s ferocious Michael Shannon, as a neighbor’s mentally disturbed son who has weird insights, could be confused for mere Oscar fare.”

I am going to see the movie regardless.

Of Richard Yates’ books, Easter Parade is the bleakest, although the ending of Revolutionary Road is searing. Often I play over a part to myself, when Emily (now dating Michael Hogan) is reading the Times Book Review and stops at a photograph of Jack Flanders amid reviews of the work of various poets. Michael peers over her shoulder.

“What’s the deal?” he asked her.

“Nothing; just something here about a man I used to know.”

“Yeah? Which one?”

There were four photographs on the page, she could have easily have pointed to one of the others—even Krueger—and Michael Hogan would never know, or care, but she felt a stirring of old loyalty. “Him,” she said, touching her forefinger to Jack’s face.

“Looks like he just lost his last friend,” Michael Hogan said.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Fen-ny

From jackmurnighan.blogspot.com, by a man named Jack Murnighan. You might know him from Nerve.com. Currently he in traveling in Cambodia.

“The Netherlands are reputedly under sea level, and apparently huge chunks of Bangladesh wash away after a bad monsoon (killing dozens of times as many people as 9/11, by the way), but I’ve never seen a place as swampy or fen-ny or boggy or rice-paddy-y or however it should properly be described.”

What I like about fen-ny is the way Mr Murnighan, whom I have never met in person, but who (full disclosure), is editing something I have written, side-steps the (apparently) Early Modern English innovation that is the denominal diminutive (and, I think, feminine) suffix -y. (The Cambridge History of the English Language, 1476–1776 could be a tad more clear about this.) Anyway, appending -ny instead of -y enacts the double consonant rule; but by inserting a hyphen, the word blooms. (Punctuation can do more than bore fidgeting teenagers; Tom Wolfe has a fine time with colons in I Am Charlotte Simmons, doesn’t he?).

The book fen-ny brings to mind above all is William Gass’s gorgeous essay On Being Blue. Gass has a nice romp with the English language in that one.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Massy

From The History of the Dividing Line, by William Byrd II.

“As it happen’d some Ages before to be the fashion to Santer to the Holy Land, and go upon other Quixot Adventures, so it was now grown the Humour to take a Trip to America. The Spaniards had lately discovered Rich Mines in their Part of the West Indies, which made their Maritime Neighbours eager to do so too. This Modish Frenzy being still more Inflam’d by the Charming Account given of Virginia, by the first Adventurers made many fond of removeing to such a Paradise.

“Happy was he, and still the happier She, that cou’d get themselves transported, fondly expecting their Coarsest Utensils, in that happy place, would be of Massy Silver.”

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Jargony

Is it just me, or does this word also bring to mind Argosy, arjun, Argos, and Fortuny?

From Natalie Angier's column in the Science section of the December 8th edition of my hometown paper, The New York Times. The article is titled “Primal, Acute and Easily Duped: Our Sense of Touch”, and its shiniest piece of jargon, the word vibrotactile, appears a little farther on.

“Long neglected in favor of the sensory heavyweights of vision and hearing, the study of touch lately has been gaining new cachet among neuroscientists, who sometimes refer to it by the amiably jargony term of haptics, Greek for touch.”

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Higgledy-piggledy

Higgledy-piggledy, of the silent d, doesn't crop up so often anymore, but there it was in Adam Begley’s appraisal of Florence, in the New York Times Travel section on November 30.

Isn’t is nice to read a long sentence? Certainly it’s nice for me. This excerpt below is about being a walker in the city. (The cedilla is mine.)

“If you can visit one church and one museum before lunch and one more church or another museum after lunch (whatever you do, don’t miss the wealth of paintings piled higgledy-piggledy in the Palatine Gallery of the Palazzo Pitti), and then take a nap (Tuscan wine is cheap and abundant), and then stroll to dinner, perhaps along the Via de’ Tornabuoni, under the looming, illuminated fa├žades of great, stern palazzos, and stroll some more after dinner when the crowds have thinned and Florence seems gentler and the multicolor Duomo seems less garish but just as huge and astonishing—you’ll find that after a few days of this routine, all your complaints will be forgotten, replaced with amazement and gratitude.”