THE BOOKS OF RUTH

by Steven Steinbock

The mystery world lost another legend this week. Ruth Cavin died on Sunday at the age of ninety-two. I call her a legend because she was, and still is, even though a lot of readers will not have heard of her. She wasn’t a big-name author or an active member of mystery fandom. Hers is a quiet legend. Ruth was instrumental in the mystery genre, but mostly behind the scenes. And where she was visible, it was with her ever-present smile.

For 22 years, Ruth was the associate editor at Thomas Dunne Books, a division of St. Martins. She started out in the publishing world editing mysteries for Walker & Co. in 1979. In her career she was responsible for bringing out some 900 books, including titles by Laurie King, Sue Grafton and Charles Todd.

I barely knew Ruth. We’d been introduced a couple of times. Once, as I recall, by Carolyn Todd (the mother half of the “Charles Todd” team), but I doubt she would have remembered me. Wherever mystery people gathered, whether at Bouchercon, Malice Domestic, or an Edgar Awards dinner, Ruth was there, usually in the company of her daughter Nora, and always with that kind but wry smile.

All the authors I’ve known who worked with Ruth Cavin liked her. The press has called her the First Lady of Mysteries, but I like what Sue Grafton said when she called Ruth the “soul mother to mystery writers for years.”

My thoughts go out to Ruth’s family. I wish I’d had the chance to know her better.

TURNING PHRASES

I enjoy doing Hebrew calligraphy. My normal handwriting is a mess. But being a left-handed writer with a decent knowledge of classical Hebrew, I can put pen-tip to paper and watch my hand move with a grace I’m not accustomed to.

A few weeks ago I stopped in a craft store and bought myself some ink and nibs. In the past I’ve always used Sheaffer pens with their convenient ink cartridges. They’re still pretty handy, and a lot safer than working with an open bottle of ink on the kitchen table. But now I have a more latitude with inks and pen tips. Maybe next I’ll be cutting my own quills.

It got me thinking, what does the word nib come from? The stylus tip of a fountain pen is called a nib. So are the crushed cocoa beans that I mix into my yogurt. Is there a connection? The best I can come up with is that a pen nib comes from a sixteenth century Scottish and/or German word meaning “sharp point” or “beak.” Nib as a small morsel of food might come from the fifteenth century Middle English word that survives in modern English in the form of nibble. My guess is that the two uses of nib are two separate branches of the same root.

I do most of my Hebrew calligraphy without adding the vowels and other diacritical marks. All those markings were added about a thousand years ago in order to preserve pronunciation and phrasing. Those “other diacritical marks” I mentioned are the tiny curves, twists, diamonds, and wishbone symbols that indicate how a passage is to be chanted. The common term used for those marks is trope, a Latin term of Greek origin meaning “turn” (as in “a turn of phrase”). It makes sense. The marks are turns of pen and ink that indicate turns in the vocal chords.

But I like the older Hebrew term for the symbols better. The word te’amim (plural of ta’am) means “taste” or “flavor” and in calligraphy (as well as in cantillation) refers to the symbols and the vocal changes they signify. Maybe that’s the real connection between pen nibs and cocoa nibs.