Although one might have seen young sannyasis and sannyasinis wandering the streets of San Francisco during the so-called Summer of Love, in most views of Hindu philosophy, that path of near total renunciation was reserved for those Brahmans who had entered their twilight years and were approaching their final days of life.
2. fustian — bombast, inappropriately lofty language
I sat on my folding chair on the dais listening to the mayor’s turgid speech, appreciating for the first time the unironic virtues and high ideals of our national holiday, which even the overlenghty fustian of an interminable program of local politicos could neither dim nor diminish.
3. syllabub — dessert of beaten and sweetened cream flavored with wine; drink of milk or cream mixed with wine or cider
All his talk amounted to nothing more than a verbal syllabub: enjoyable enough at the end of an evening, but leaving no trace of satiety in its wake.
4. effluent — flowing out
The younger children paid her no mind, but the teenagers and some of the parents found her effluent enthusiasm quite cloying.
5. effluent — treated sewage; sewage or waste flowing into water
Several miles below the city we saw the oily green-black stains in the water, and before long we could smell the effluent of Saint Louis as our barge continued northwards on the river.
6. lote — [archaic] lotus
Pliny the Elder saw with his own eyes the lote tree planted before the temple of Vulcan by Romulus himself, still alive after 700 years.
7. menarche — first onset of menstruation
Though a sign of incipient womanhood, the arrival of menarche does not, in fact, mean the concomitant occurrence of ovulation.
8. yonks — [British informal] a very long time
Oh, it’s been yonks since I listened to their music.
9. stereotype — single metal plate of type made from mold of a forme of composed type
Quick distribution of her latest novel was aided by the shipment of duplicate stereotype plates to our country direct from London.
10. nidus — site of origin; place where insects deposit their eggs
For the child who listens to this talk, surrounded by his elders speaking of other men and women in terms of such inhumanity and hatred, the dining table becomes a nidus of vicious bigotry.
The short story collection R Is For Rocket is designed to appeal to young adults (our current nomenclature for children who read), especially young boys growing up in the dawn of the Space Age. Reading it now made this once-young man cry several times, both for the limpid understanding inherent in Ray Bradbury’s prose, and also for the wistful nostalgia—some intentional, some caused by subsequent events—of these tales which mostly concern the fierce optimism of humans determined to face the future with heads held high.
Thus it was that the title story, “R Is for Rocket”, is the first fiction I have read in quite a while which made me begin to cry, even though I was reading on my lunch break at work, with co-workers around me. Somehow, the deceptive simplicity of Bradbury’s writing triggered an almost autonomous sadness for the lost dreams of youth, which in this case are compounded by the loss of the hopefulness that once seemed integral to the American Dream. The story relates in first person the powerful dream of a teenager who thinks constantly of becoming an astronaut, who dreams of it, who broods about it, who feels the pull of space travel almost as physically as the apple felt the attraction of gravity that urged it onto Newton’s pate. The young narrator and his best buddy share this urge to the stars, always have, even though their other childhood friends seem to have outgrown this dream.
Part of the power of Bradbury’s prose is his uncanny ability to capture, or to recapture, the tidal moods and overwhelming thoughts of a young man. To be frank, the likeness to Gertrude Stein’s writing and stream-of-consciousness and lack of punctuation or separation between one thought and another used to annoy me no end. Strangely enough, what would fascinate me when reading William S. Burroughs seemed cloying when reading Ray Bradbury. Yet Bradbury always knows just what he is doing, and knows just how much streaming run-on sentence first-person consciousness is enough, and when to return to the plot and the story—which is another thing Bradbury always has. And in this case, the lucid dreaming of a young boy is shown by the author in all its heartbreaking agony and soaring aspiration, and we are truly allowed to watch a young boy becoming a young man right before our eyes. This short story is magic.
Many—most—of the stories in this collection have the same preternatural power, and though you may have read them before (most of these tales were collected previously in other Bradbury anthologies, including The Illustrated Man which you’ve doubtless already read), they are well worth reading again. Two other stories made me cry, and only one story made me check the page count to see how long until it would be over. (This was “Frost and Fire”, which is still interesting, and needs its length to tell itself.)
But the power of that first eponymous story of this paperback anthology lingered quite a while, and I had to compose myself somewhat before putting away the detritus of my lunch and returning to work. But not only because of the persuasiveness of Bradbury’s prose. I sat there after reading that opening tale quite bereft and sad, sad for the lost dream of the 20th Century, a dream of progress and hope for humanity which has turned to dissolving starch under our gluttonous tongues. Though we taste sweetness from our apps and our MyPhones and FlexBoxes and the TweeterSlams and the InterWebby tubes and all, we have lost a staunch fierceness which once sent a dozen men to step upon the moon. Twelve humans, all white men in their thirties or forties, trod upon that not-so-distant planet (a mere quarter of a million miles away) and now … no more. Two score and eight years separate us from the last steps on another world, and it seems as if much more than a century has passed since those halcyon days. We have lost so much. And it is that loss I mourned there in the small break room with its linoleum floor and fluorescent lighting, with each person socially distanced around me looking at phones which held computers thousands and thousands of times more powerful that the machines which enabled those dozen souls to trod upon the distant Moon. I was promised flying cars, and instead have been given Dark Mode. Reading Bradbury’s stories returned to me, at least, the powerful dreams of an earlier age, even if I have had to learn to live without dreaming.
Far from seeing this as a setback, I believe it will conduce to his eventual success if he learns from the experience.
2. crypt — depression or sinkage surrounding a villus in the intestinal epithelium
Each villus may be surrounded by many crypts, and within these—among other functions—are generated the stem cells from which many varieties of intestinal cells come to replenish the depleted intestinal membrane.
3. expectorate — to expel from the chest or lungs (by hawking or spitting or coughing)
One may expectorate sputum or phlegm, but, as Ambrose Bierce noted, one cannot expectorate tobacco juice, unless you are chewing it all wrong.
4. obnoxious — [archaic] exposed to danger
Thus small acts of malfeasance are followed by greater crimes which leave you obnoxious to incarceration and other punishments of the state.
5. delope — to purposely shoot off target during a duel
Just because I deloped when Pudgy Randall and I dueled does not mean I apologized for any thing at all; I merely wished to avoid removing his mother’s last child from this earth.
6. lenity — mildness, mercifulness; instance of mercifulness or gentleness
Though Roman’s actions since have made others question my lenity on that fateful day, I have never doubted for one moment that mercy is always the better policy.
7. carboy — large glass container covered with basketwork protection, used for storing corrosive liquids
The observation balloon was filled and ready for release, and the support team were storing the carboys of vitriol safely back in the wagons.
8. laager — camp, especially one formed by a protective circle of wagons
The turkey was protected within a laager of gravy boats and other condiments in crystal bowls.
9. cassock — long, coat-like garment worn by priests and other religious in Catholic and certain Protestant denominations
You can easily distinguish a Catholic from an Anglican priest by counting the buttons on his cassock, as the former will have thirty-three buttons while the latter has thirty-nine.
10. superinfection — infection occurring during or after an earlier infection, especially after the use of antibiotics
By discontinuing the use of most broad-spectrum antibiotics in favor of more targeted drugs, the risk of superinfection has been reduced dramatically, although MRSA is still a concern at every hospital.
By this time, Peele was living in a scratty little SRO by the bus station, bathrooms down the hall, and I found him there, trying to wash the blood out of his socks in the corner sink, but the taps had springs and wouldn’t stay open so every time he went to scrub out the stains the trickle of rusty water shut off.
3. fellwalker — (British) person who walks over hills or high moors
If they caught him here they could just toss him over the cliffs onto the rocks below, and the police would assume he was just one more fellwalker who had gotten caught out too late and taken a wrong turn in the dark.
4. grig — unrestrainedly lively person; dwarf; cricket, grasshopper; small eel
For all I knew, the parson’s wife was merry as a grig in her own kitchen, but her presence had a deadening effect at my own tea party.
5. bamboula — drum made from a rum barrel; dance using such a drum
Even today the old bamboula rhythm can be heard behind much of the most vibrant New Orleans music.
6. sericulture — production of silk through farming of silkworms
Emperor Justinian was the first European potentate to have the secret of sericulture within his grasp, according to apocryphal stories of missionary monks from the Eastern Roman Empire who (it is said) managed to smuggle silkworm eggs out from China within hollow canes especially constructed for the purpose.
7. ectopic — out of place, anomalously situated
Next to the entrance to the restrooms, right atop the bar, sat the ectopic toddler.
8. amanuensis — one who writes from dictation, copyist, secretary
“I apologize for using an amanuensis,” the letter concluded, “but my writing hand is still swollen and useless due to the affray I told you about in the previous paragraph.”
9. nerk — (British) fool, dolt
So there he was, the poor nerk, opening the door for the tax man while on the phone with his bookie, with no money for either.
10. Kletterschuh — light boot with cloth or felt sole made especially for climbing
This weekend was all about hiking not hunting, so he left his Gamsbart behind, but made sure to pack his Kletterschuhe.
Bonus Vocabulary
(Latin)
mutatis mutandis — with the necessary changes
Yet all knew that if we attempted to put forth the argument he had used when the opposition party held sway, mutatis mutandis, he would blithely maintain that the situation was entirely different now, though the only difference to us seemed to be that now his party was in the catbird seat.
1. lac (also lakh) — (in India) one hundred thousand, esp. of rupees; (fig.) a large, indeterminate number
He died as he lived, the master of lac on lac of rupees, without even an ostentatious tomb to mark his passing.
2. indiction — fifteen year time period used in Roman Empire from time of Constantine into the Middle Ages; also denotes particular year within an indiction, e.g. “twelfth indiction” meaning twelfth year of (a given) indiction
The ships left London on the third day of December in the tenth indiction for the Mediterranean Sea with the young duke on board with all his retinue.
3. settle — long high-backed bench; something to sit upon
The sacrifices were placed upon a rough stone settle at the foot of the altar.
4. apolune — highest point of an orbit around a moon
The Eagle reached its initial apolune of approximately 55 miles within an hour of lift off from the moon’s surface.
5. pone — bread made from corn; loaf of such (or other) bread
And now this beggar, who would have been delighted to get even a half pone and some pork fat, became quite selective when presented with a choice of desserts.
6. shambolic — messy, very disorganized
The film is merely a shambolic display of CGI set pieces of explosions loosely tied together with a fractured plot ruined further by pointless dialogue delivered by terrible actors.
7. ovine — of or like sheep
He disdains all of his ovine followers even when meeting them one-on-one, going so far as to say plainly to them, “You’re not that important.”
8. enosis — political union of Greece and Cyprus; movement seeking such a union
Naturally, Erdogan’s latest actions have subjected the already strained politics of enosis to even stronger pressures.
9. dysania — difficulty in getting out of bed
I wish I had been able to label as dysania what my unfeeling mother called “just being a teenager”.
10. weir — small dam in a stream; fence or net in waterway for catching fish
A well-placed weir provided the entire village and much of the surrounding community with herring.
How to Overthrow the Government, by Arianna Huffington Shrub, by Molly Ivins & Lou Dubose Stupid White Men, by Michael Moore
I have said before that reading political works years after their publication is an instructional exercise. The intervening years make plainer the ingrained biases of both the author and the cultural milieu of which he is a part. When the reader was also a participant in that very milieu, the psychological effects of revisiting the political ‘scene of the crime’ can be quite disconcerting—if you are the type of reader prone to being disconcerted.
Yours Truly is such a reader, and reading these three political works written during the run-up and the follow-up of what was once one of the strangest elections in U.S. history—the Bush-Gore contest of the year 2000—gave me pause as I realized just how naïve we all are when we were younger, no matter how cynical our younger selves believed themselves to be. As well, these three books written in the smoke and fury of that political battle highlight just how crazy our current times have become, whilst also underlining how direct is the line between that mad political season and the present day in the once United States of America. The three books I read recently are as follows: Shrub: The Short But Happy Political Life of George W. Bush, by Molly Ivins & Lou Dubose; How to Overthrow the Government, by Arianna Huffington; and Stupid White Men … and other Sorry Excuses for the State of the Nation, by Michael Moore. The titles themselves may give some indication of my own political bent, for which I make no apology; I do not apologize for my parents, unless I have invited you to dine at my house when they are present. Of the three books, the bio by Ivins & Dubose is the best reported, Huffington’s call to action is the best written, and Michael Moore’s book is the funniest. We’ll look briefly at each in its turn.
Taking the worst first: Moore’s Stupid White Men is a glib attack on the fascistic ideals and actions of the nascent Bush administration in its first few months in power. (By “fascistic” here I refer to that alliance of industry, finance, and the rich (often going by the name ‘big business’) that chooses to view governments as extensions of their own power and which were instrumental in the aiding the Nazis as well as the Italian movement from which ‘fascist’ derives the name.) His heart may (may) be in the right place, but he cannot resist making his stupid little jokes, and his suggestions for remedial or resistive actions are either laughable (though not in the way he intends), impractical, or merely stupid. His focus upon the pro-business, anti-environment, anti-worker ‘accomplishments’ of the Bush administration (pp. 32-36), however, shows plainly how the line from ‘W’ to our own time is much clearer and much more direct than one might like to suppose. Moore lists almost fifty actions taken by the baby government—much less than a full year had passed since Bush’s inauguration—that will sound all too familiar to our putatively more modern ears, including the famous tax cut of which 43% benefitted only the wealthiest 1%. The rest of the book is the usual bite-sized chapters lambasting the new president and the titular Stupid White Men for their usual crimes: oppressing blacks, destroying education and the environment, building more prisons, & c. Not that these are not depredations of some moment, but they were not novel plaints even in the year 2000, and many of the worst actions had begun under Clinton (as Moore himself notes).
The biggest problem for Michael Moore, however, is Septermber 11th. The book was written before the attacks orchestrated by Osama bin Laden, and publication was apparently held up afterwards. Though Moore in some fashion persuaded HarperCollins to release his work in spite of the buoyancy the terrorist assault gave to President Bush, the words already written suffer greatly (that is, even more so than from their poor quality alone) from the altered circumstances. For example, Moore’s opening chapter harp on the fact that George W. Bush is destined to be only a one-term president, as his unpopular actions and the fact that he ‘stole’ the election seem to indicate to Moore. Reading this prophecy now may produce a chuckle (possibly), but Moore shows a poor understanding of the American mass mind, it seems, and his words aged more quickly than McDonalds fries left out all night. Though he hearkens often to his blue-collar roots in Flint, Michigan, Michael Moore’s writing betrays the usual elite dependence upon a staff of researchers and ‘quote boys’, mixed with notional bromides à la Thomas Friedman, as when Moore frames his depiction of increasing disparity among American workers and the rich by referencing his many conversations with airline pilots … as one does. This, along with his quite slippery grasp of facts and figures, make this book just not that worth reading, then or now.
On the other hand, Adrianna Huffington’s jeremiad against the decline of the American ideal, How to Overthrow the Government, is a well-researched, well-written, and well-argued work, full of facts and insights from the best think tanks in the business. The quondam conservative turned liberal activist uses the usual well-reasoned analyses of the problems facing American democracy to present the not quite usual recommendations for approaches meant to ‘take back’ the government ‘of the people’ from those monied interests who have stolen it, apparently. Devotees of The West Wing will find the policy statements quite familiar, as citation after citation is made to this report and that survey and this policy institute’s proposal to fix the increasingly problematic distortions to what once may have been a good system but which now is being severely strained under the continued assault of money and the ever-present ‘special interests’. (If you are not one who has watched The West Wing, just think about those people you knew who were interested in student government in high school; Huffington’s approach is like that.) Published in the last year of the Before Time, 2000 A.D. or C.E. (à votre choix), the trade paper edition includes a preface demolishing the Bush v. Gore decision as a rare glimpse behind the curtain behind which the monied interest usually manipulate the affairs of the United States. In this analysis, as in her savage insights into the so-called ‘War on Drugs’, Huffington demonstrates her brilliance and her ability to perceive clearly just how severely damaged everything has become. She issues a resounding call to battle the forces arrayed against democracy, before it it too late. Alas, as the past score of years have shown, it may already have been too late. Certainly it is much later now than it was when she promulgated the strange ideas in this political book. Unfortunately, most of her suggestions are mere heat lightning or fevered policy dreams, not practical actions that might actually a) be done by real people and b) have any chance of success.
Meanwhile, back in Congress, Senator Mitch McConnell and his friends are thumbing their noses at the future. Like drunks on a bender, they know we’re on the road to political ruin, but don’t have the will to admit they need help.
Huffington unwittingly proves that plus ça change, plus la même chose. Although … twenty years is a pretty long time to continue a bender, even by alcoholic standards.
This was published, of course, long before The Huffington Post found its place among those seeking MSNBC and the Daily Kos as sources of information. Five years before, in fact. Ms. Huffington was exhibiting her ability as a liberal policy wonk, while aptly pointing out the flawed approaches of both parties. In this, she triumphs over the other two works under consideration in this quick report. (Though to be fair, Shrub never claims to look at anything beyond W’s reign as governor of Texas.) Though Michael Moore harps on some of the issues with the Clinton administration, Huffington is devastating in her analysis of how both parties have become beholden to interests which have little to do with the citizens and voters they claim to represent. Unhappily, as I already said, the stratagems she proposes (anonymous campaign donations, ‘none of the above’ choice on ballots, the usual boycotts against stuff we/they don’t like, etc.) either won’t work or won’t happen. I also said this book is the best written, and that’s true. However, it is long, full of the details and data that policy types love, and yet there is nothing new here. I suspect (though I didn’t read this book then, I was not a complete novice politico even two decades past) that there was little new in this volume even when it was published. But perhaps that’s the nature of all political books of this ilk, those that are shelved in ‘Current Events’.
Just as our two-party system is showing unmistakable signs of exhaustion, and the public’s suppressed discontent is ready to be tapped, a disaster in reform’s clothing stands poised to take advantage. Like the townsfolk in an old Western, the millions who feel shut out of our “unprecedented prosperity” may thrill at the sight of a masked man riding to their rescue—until it turns out he isn’t the Lone Ranger, but a racist punslinger bent on turning them against one another.
Huffington is talking about Pat Buchanan, another name that nearly induces nostalgia nowadays.
The last book in our patriotic trio, Shrub, co-written by Molly Ivins and Lou Dubose, is a good example of what real journalism looks like. It doesn’t pull punches, supports all of its contentions, deftly uses telling examples to cut its target down to size (and a pretty small size that is), but is always fair, never overreaching itself, and forthrightly revealing just what it can and cannot prove. Ivins and Dubose humanize George W. Bush in this political biography, while at the same time showing his complete unfitness to be President of the United States. But that, as they point out, has never been a disqualification for the highest office in the land, as we have learned to our dismay. The book may also be a needed anodyne to recent changes in the zeitgeist which may have made Bush fils a better president in memory than he was in fact. Shrub is by far the most entertaining and engaging of the three books reviewed here, though you may learn a bit more about Texas state politics and legislative procedure than you really care to. But trust me, the stories are funny and the reporting is brilliant.
Marshall Kuykendall, a leader of the Texas property-rights movement, was asked a few years ago to cite one single example of the government seizing property without just recompense, since the Constitution expressly forbids this. Well, huffed Kuykendall (and he does huff), what about the Emancipation Proclamation, setting slaves free, taking private property with no compensation whatever to their owners from the feds. Kind of hard to think of a response, isn’t it?
Just one example of the trenchant reportage of Ivins and Dubose.
Of the three books, Shrub is the only one still worth reading today, though you might have to be stuck in a house with no Internet connection and only this book before you’d be likely to pick it up. But that’s mainly because most of us readers have little interest in how the Texas ‘weak governor’ system of state government works, and because interest in how George W. Bush would act as leader of the free world is merely an academic question now. Ivins and Dubose are very clear in their intention to focus solely upon the facts about the Man Who Would Be King, and seek to divine his likely behavior as president by his actions in the role of master of ceremonies for the great state of Texas. All the same, this is a good read, if a tad limited by its self-imposed limitations. Plus, it’s written in Texan, or at least as much of it as can remain comprehensible to us outsiders.
So there was [state senator Drew] Nixon, sentenced to six months in a halfway house, which he worked off a weekend at a time. He made the obligatory postconviction public plea for forgiveness, with his wife at his side, and went for counseling. This remarkable player rose to the occasion late in the session; he told Bush that vouchers are bad public policy and that he would not step aside to let the bill on the floor. Bush had arrived to lean on Senator Nixon personally as the press watched. The man who had raised $20 million for one statewide race, been reelected with 61 percent of the vote, and by this time was widely believed to be the forty-fifth president of the United States had to turn one vote from a member of his own party who is, frankly, a dipshit. Bush couldn’t do it.
Bush tries to do a job he was elected to do.
So would I recommend you read political books twenty years out of date? No, I categorically would not, unless you are researching biographical or historical details. Otherwise, I would advocate the opposite, and even then some. I strongly suggest instead that you do not read political books at all, of any stripe. There may be a handful of well-written books worth reading for that fact alone (I am reliably informed that Obama’s books are exemplars of compelling English), but the vast majority of such works are not worth your time.
Why, then. would I subject myself to three (!) books of this type? To be honest, besides the fact that I am a catholic omnivore when it comes to reading, I find that I have to have some subject matter in the smallest chamber in my house, to which I am forced to withdraw from time to time by nature’s necessities. And I need reading material of which I can read either a page or two or longer passages as the situation requires, without having to worry that the fascination of the book will induce too long a sojourn which might tend to cause piles. These books fit that bill admirably, and I can recommend them to you on that basis, and that basis alone.
I have finally finished reading my 500th book since I started tracking such data back in June of 2015. This half-millennium mark was crossed by the completion of the sociological study of consumer habits of the lower-class project dwellers in Manhattan, The Poor Pay More. I received this book in error thinking instead to receive a science fiction work of the same title by Fredric Brown. I now believe that the online book listing was erroneous, as I find no such work by the noted author in a quick search on the Interwebs. Nonetheless, the trade paper reprint of the seminal 1963 study of the buying habits and constraints of those families at the bottom of the pecking order was an interesting read, if a bit dry. (At least it was not the unpalatable blather of most sociology.) David Caplovitz presents plainly and persuasively the results of a milestone survey of over five hundred families of the urban poor, showing how predatory salesmen and stores combine with all-American urges towards consumption to create a situation where high prices and shoddy goods are foisted upon those members of society who are least able to afford them. Plus ça change …. This situation has only been exacerbated in our current United States, although most of these families would likely just be living on the streets nowadays, competing for the scarce resources of discarded aluminum cans. Ah, progress. Anyway, a worthwhile study.
Finishing this book means that I have read another hundred books* since the last such milestone reached on January 16th, 2020. Ergo, a mere 241 days have passed since I completed my 400th book, giving an average reading pace of 2.41 days per book read. This is the fastest pace yet since I began tracking in June of 2015. The averages for each century are as follows:
2.41 days/book – Books #401-#500
2.97 days/book – #301-#400
2.79 days/book – #201-#300
4.83 days/book – #101-#200
6.17 days/book – #1-#100
The current torrid pace is due to a conscious determination to read both quick reads as well as some works with questionable right to belong in my library. I may now try to pick up the pace even further, but time will tell that tale.
1 Book per 2.41 Days
My overall pace for the entire run of 500 books may be seen by using the estimate of 1930 days since this book tracking project began. (The initial books did not have actual completion dates associate with them, so I am using June of 2015 as my guide here.) This gives a total pace of 3.86 days per book.
As usual, I’ll be back with more detailed analysis after I have a chance to massage the data. As well, of course, I’ll be posting a listing of the last set of books read.
*As usual, I exclude comic books and their ilk from my calculations.
His naked legs were covered with scratches from the thorns in the surrounding boscage he had forced his way through.
2. entablature — (architecture) horizontal construction supported by columns in classical temples and the like, consisting of an architrave, a frieze, and a cornice
The roof had long ago collapsed, but the marble entablature still hung suspended against the sky, like a thick ribbon of stone supported by the fluted columns.
3. sacerdotal — of or related to priests, priestly
Only when he stepped off the Vespa and unzipped his leather jacket was his sacerdotal collar revealed.
4. nooning — noonday meal or rest period
Micah caught up with Jim Stryker’s boy the next day as the child was leaving school for the nooning.
5. ruck — crease, fold, or wrinkle
Jepperson paused to smooth away a ruck he imagined he saw in his shirtfront, and then knocked firmly on the door.
6. flense — to slice away the fat (from a whale or a seal)
Any sentimental feeling she had once had for the balding economist had long ago been flensed from her psyche by the cutting remarks and acute incivilities of Jens.
7. costive — constipated; slow or unenthusiastic in action
Maddie was no longer surprised that Richard’s costive assistance came too late to help, so tardy had he become in all things since losing his firstborn.
8. steeplejack — one who climbs steeples and towers to effect repairs
One of the prize items in his collection was The Night Climbers of Cambridge, a paean to the student steeplejacks of that university who once roamed freely over its roofs and spires.
9. nepenthe — drink inducing forgetfulness of pain or sorrow
He turned to work as his nepenthe for even in his dreams he was troubled by the unceasing ache of losing her.
10. flews — hanging flaps of the upper lips of certain dogs
He could see them coming in the distance now, the hounds’ noses already affixed to the scent, their flews dragging in the red clay, their necks straining for the release of the leash.
Bonus Vocabulary
(Latin)
in pectore — “in the breast” or “in the heart”, term used by Catholic Church to denote secret actions
Many observers believe the last in pectore cardinal appointed by the pope was the bishop of Hong Kong, already a target of the Communist Chinese government.
1. barracoon — temporary holding place for prisoners, esp. slaves
The king wished to drive the emigrants away from Port Cresson so that the barracoon could be reopened and his lucrative trade in human souls could recommence.
2. caftan (also kaftan) — loose-fitting, full-length garment with long wide sleeves, worn throughout the Middle East, the Maghreb, and parts of Asia
The landlord met us at the door wearing an expensive periwinkle caftan with rich brocade, though Agatha pointed out to me later that the hem had been repaired many times, and that the material was thin at spots due to repeated washings.
3. conn (also con) — to steer a ship or sailing vessel
You’ll have need of a man very familiar with these islands to conn your craft through the treacherous reefs to the hidden inlet where they’ve beached the Rockaway Beech to repair their damage from the storm.
4. con — (obsolete) to know, to understand
But the best I can say of William Tinker is that though he neither cons his craft nor has innate skill, still he is quite persevering in his ignorant attempts to fashion useful tools.
5. acclivity — rising slope
Before Bernhard’s forces grouped in the oaks along the river’s edge rose a gentle acclivity to the treeless ridge.
6. stews — brothel, brothels, neighborhood in which brothels predominate
The taverns, playhouses, and the stews are his natural element, and I doubt much that this nouveau ‘Lord’ will fare well beneath the cutting eyes and biting tongues of the gentlemen and women of the court.
7. huggle — (obsolete) to hug
Just as a mother huggles her newborn to her breast, so did Dylan hold the mewling kitten in his arms.
8. periphrastic — overly wordy, circumlocutory, characterized by use of many words for a single word or a shorter phrase
Though the document was boldly stamped across its face ‘Not A Bill’, I struggled in vain through the periphrastic prose to determine just what this seemingly official paper actually was.
9. doxology — short formula of words in praise of God
Pieter was the loveliest, kindest man I ever met, and every word he uttered seemed to me a doxology, full of joy and never an ounce of rancor.
10. bittern — wading bird related to, though smaller than, the heron
Suddenly the boom of a bittern seeking a mate startled me out of my twilight reverie on the dock.
1. draegerman — specially trained miner who is expert in underground rescue
The boisterous draegermen, still prideful after their success at the Slewton Slide, kept teasing the old miner at the end of the bar.
2. ted — to spread out or to strew for drying
As the orange sun cast its parting rays upon the newly mown field where the tedded hay still lay ready for gathering on the morrow, Bealiah wondered how his sister could ever think of leaving their heavenly homestead.
3. rhombencephalon — hindbrain
The student will soon discover that the separate parts of the rhombencephalon are not always easily distinguishable when working with lizard brains.
4. absquatulate — to flee, to abscond, to leave hurriedly or secretly
The plan was simplicity itself, though only such backwoods fools would give money to complete strangers and not expect them to absquatulate the moment their purses were full of the local specie.
5. pantophobic — fearful of everything
As easy as it might be to lapse into a pantophobic nihilistic despair, we must resist the urge and pick ourselves up each day, steeling ourselves for the evil which sometimes seems much more than sufficient for any twenty-four hour time period.
6. gaylord (also gaylord box) — large and rugged cardboard box for shipping and storage
At the end of almost a full week of intensive work we accumulated over fifteen gaylords of recyclable material extracted from the tumbledown woods behind the once beautiful mansion.
7. morse — (archaic) walrus
The oldest among them, a weather-beaten man whom all the others living in these rude huts assured us was the fiercest hunter of morse, declared emphatically that the morse had no horn at all upon its brow, though he allowed that the sea beast had very dangerous tusks and teeth.
8. arpent — old French unit of area roughly equal to an acre, still used in Francophone America
The sons were no wiser than Descaux père, fighting endlessly over a dozen worthless arpents of swampland while the lawyer’s fees ate away both the profit and the capital of the old sugar plantation.
9. adversion — (obsolete) attention
Just as when our mind’s eye in a dream begins to wake the moment we focus our adversion upon the peculiar narrative of the dream, so has she lost interest in each suitor from the time she first deigns to notice him and his plaint.
10. cosher — to feast; to pamper
Many a vassal finds his stores insufficient for the winter after the lord of the manor comes to cosher for a long weekend’s hunt.
Bonus Vocabulary
(grammar)
sentence adverb — adverb modifying entire content of a sentence
Though debates still burble about whether ‘hopefully’ is acceptable as a sentence adverb, the wisest course whenever considering a sentence adverb is this: Don’t.
