Monthly Archives: November 2008

crass

A coarse, gross, brassy word. It carries its sense on its loud lapels: you hear, on the one side, the whole host of angry, crusty, growling, gritting cr and especially cra words – crap, crash, crack, crab, all made for spitting and growling; on the other side, the blatt of ass, a rude end, like a dismissive wave of the hand and a hiss. A few millimetres of vowel height separate this word from a leafy green (botanically a crucifer, and indeed on the way to cross), but between [æ] and [E] what a difference there can be. This word does not keep the most pleasant of company – indifference is a common playmate – and even where found in the company of such unexceptionable words as tastes and manners it lowers the tone to the bottom of the trash can. Anglo-saxon though it may sound, however, it’s Latin in street clothes: crassus meant fat, dense, thick, that kind of sh*t.

conciliation

A soothing wave-wash of a word, suited for whispering in the ear over steam rising from the collar. Not a stop in it after the crisp opener – the second c is softened and the t shuns the tap. The word begins with the prefix we see in conjoin and congratulate but also in contend and constern: things come together for better or worse. In this case, it’s calming, with fricatives, liquids and nasals. The middle of the word may sound silly, but it also has the slipping smoothness of silk and the silent shine of silver. In the end is the functional ation, a suffix as ubiquitous as doughnut shops (where contending parties may come to terms over coffee); it takes an action and makes it a noun, a thing, a counsel to keep – or in this case perhaps a council, which comes from the same Latin origins: it’s a meeting of the bodies, and this is a meeting of the minds. Or at least a hoped-for one; we note that it’s so often preceded by “attempt(s) at.”

antagonistic

A word that might be made of barbed wire. It snags your tag, nags and sticks you. Is it agony or just agon? Don’t egg it on. It’s negative from the get-go, with the ant that is ever against – a little insect in the black ink of text, carrying much more than its weight in animus. When you see that, you might well say “Ag, what’s to do?” Best be gone? But the c at the end might catch you – if you haven’t been tarred by the nasty double [æ], pushed back by the insistent [I]s, and poked by the twin tapping [t]s, even while cushioned by the pads of the [n]s. Yes, this word is one of duals – and duels. Front and back are two syllables each, and each is all in the front until it ends with a kick in the back; in the middle is the moat of that perpetual neutral schwa sound represented here by the emptiest character. Two sides, differing in little more than vowel height and the voicing of one stop, glaring at each other across the slightest of gaps. And of course neither will prevail, as both are needed. Why? It’s all Greek to me… of course, from roots meaning “against” and “struggle.” We’ve had it in English since the 17th century – the word, that is; the idea’s timeless.

snide

This word likes to hang about with comment and remark. But if someone were to target you with a snide remark, would you take it in stride? Would you cock a snook? The nasal sneering associated with this word comes straight out of the sn opening, so common in snuffling nose words; after that, it arcs with a rhyme of stride and glide and perhaps a scintilla of sly. There are many and varied ide words, however, all the way from bride and pride to chide and hide, so the end of the word is not what governs it; rather, the vowel takes its cue from the onset, not just the sn but other s+consonant words too: sty, sky, spry, snipe. The sound of the word may have moved it to where it is now, semantically; it emerged in the 19th century to mean sham, worthless, bogus, etc. Within a few decades, a person could be called snide, meaning cunning, sharp, mendacious, contemptible; from there, it was used for hypocrisy and malicious gossip; and by the 1930s we see it used to refer to slyly derogatory remarks. And where did it come from? Well, now, why would you think lexicographers would be able to tell you that?

euphony

A word with pleasant sound. It carries the smooth resonances of symphony and polyphony while not so quickly calling forth the cracked stops of cacophony. (If you say it like an accusation of spuriousness, your hearer may think you funny.) The first syllable is pleasing, too; many will think of euphoria and perhaps eulalia (or, by sound association, even Utopia); dancers and theatre historians may think of eurythmy (and ’80s music fans might get a related echo). And who does not like to year “you” spoken to them in pleasing tones? Orthographically, this word gives us the ph spelling that bespeaks classical roots and phatter wallets – it could be higher class or just “classy.” Saying the word takes the tongue in a swoop through the mouth: high front to high back, like an ebbing wave, then the [f] with the lips and teeth like the sound of surf (or of soft white noise), then the tongue taps front quickly before continuing the flex to its opening forward swell. No surprise that the word comes from Greek – a Greek word that means the same thing (nice + sound), euphonia. Notice that the ia was changed by the 17th-century borrowers to a standard English ending, y, perhaps because they thought it sounded nicer.

mandible

It may sound to some like a liturgical vestment, but if a man dribbles, this is where it happens. The nasals and voiced stops give a taste of nummy and nibble as well as assorted other ible suffix words (dirigible, runcible) and ibble words (kibble, Tribble), and even other lip rubbers like bubble and double double. The shape of the word doesn’t suggest a jawbone – it’s like a half-mown lawn, with the low nasal beginning followed by the ascenders and dot with the stops and liquid. Perhaps in the lawn is a mantis masticating an ant… Or we could say manducating, a rare word that comes from the same Latin source as mandible. Given that manducate has been used in particular in eucharistic context, it does seem apposite for a praying mantis… Perhaps the mantis is also wearing a maniple and a chasuble. But at any rate it’s chewing with its mandibles.