Friday, May 14: Bandersnatches
THE SHADOW KNOWS
by Steven Steinbock
There is hope for the future.
As part of the Career Exploration Program (CEP) of my local school disctrict, all high school Sophomores and Juniors take part in a three-day job-shadowing. A month or so back, I was contacted by a tenth grader. He is interested in writing, and one of the teachers gave him my name as a writer to job-shadow.
My first reaction was one of flattery. That lasted for about seven seconds. It was followed by a reaction of “Why?” Spending fifteen hours watching me work is tantamount to watching hair grow (which on my scalp is especially sparse).
Fortunately, my third reaction was to say “Yes.”
Dan arrived at my door promptly Wednesday morning, and we got to work. After introductions, I gave him an overview of the type of work I do, he completed a standard set of interview questions of me, and we spent the rest of the day sampling several types of writing. I sat him down with my laptop, and gave him a chance to transcribe some of the telephone interview I did last week with Jeffery Deaver. (Dan is a quick typist, but after ten minutes, transcribing less than two minutes of a fifty minute interview, Dan was happy when I told him to stop). We then discussed the difference between Q&A interviews and profile-interviews.
I’m happy to report that in addition to being intelligent and friendly, Dan is well-read, has an exceptional vocabulary, and a good ear for words.
WORD SOUP
I’ve been promising (threatening?) for several weeks to share my thoughts on the words Wistful and Mirth, as well as Laconic and Languid. This will occur posthaste. But first a word of prayer.
A couple weeks back we discussed the profusion of euphemisms for religious terms. But who would have thought that the words giddy and enthusiasm were religious in origin? Enthusiasm refers to a feeling of fervor or zeal. But when the expression was first coined, it specifically meant the kind of zeal that comes from being possessed by a deity. Based on the Greek enthousiasmos (having God – theos – inside). The word inspiration has a similar meaning. From the same root as respiration, it recalls the story in Genesis of how God breathed the breath of life into a clump of carbon and made Adam a living being.
Giddy actually took me by surprise. I knew it meant a sense of dizziness. But I’ve always (wrongly) thought of it as a goofy, silly kind of daze. It turns out that like inspiration and enthusiasm, it derives from the idea of being taken over by a divine presence. In Old English, gydig meant “of god.”
Finally on to the wistful mirth. The strange issue that I have with these words – and I’d love to know if anyone else had the same problem – is that they sound opposite to what they are. Not that there’s anything especially onomatopoetic about either of the words, but mirth, which means “joy” and “gaiety,” feels like dearth and muddy earth. In the same way, wistful sounds wishful and misty, but means pensive or melancholic.
Laconic is a neat word. It sounds neat. I feel smart when I use it. Ironically, a person who uses this word (which means “pithy” or “terse”) is being anything but. Languid is a pretty word. It rolls off the tongue. But it’s meaning just plain rolls. In meaning it is “faint” or “weak,” which not to make too fine a point of makes it similar to “flaccid” and rather the opposite of “turgid.”
I’m out of space. But I have more words up my sleeve, including tantamount and copacetic. See you next week.
Thanks for the instructive column, Steve! And please help me out on “turgid”: How is it the opposite of “languid”? When I look it up in the OED, it gives me “swollen, inflated, bombastic”. So the following doesn’t seem contradictory:
Pendergast, all turgid from his cortisone therapy, languished on the sofa and wistfully contemplated his days of mirth.
Anyway, I’m very much looking forward to “copacetic”. Maybe you could throw in “rueful” as well.
Hamilton, you need to have a warped mind, and to think below the belt, in order to get a sense of where turgid and languid might be opposites. I don’t think anyone really uses either word to describe levels of arousal (or lack thereof), but reading the definitions with my mind in the gutter. . . well, you get the idea.
Oh. OH! Just goes to show what an innocent mind I have. But yes, I do get it now. Thanks.
Laconic was originally the adjectival version of Laconia, the land of the Greek city-state Sparta, and so reflects the Spartan no-frills aesthetic.
DAN: “Uh, Mr. Steinbock, this Jeff Baker guy, he responds to your posts a lot. Is he a stalker?”
Seriously, I wish I’d had a mentor like that when I was in High School!
Thanks for posting!
Jeff, I warn all my students about you!