Words, words, words

[eruthros]

In which eruthros is a word geek.

I played dictionary with my father this weekend. Dictionary is that oh-so-nerdy game played by pulling out a big dictionary, ideally an OED, flipping to a page, and picking a word from that page. Other folks then guess the definition. With two people, the same person keeps picking until the other person gets close; with three or more, you hand off the dictionary to the person whose guess was closer. "Closer" can be fun to work out, of course, since if the actual definition is "a southeasterly wind in Italy" and the guesses are "the mouth of a pipe" and "a riverbank," it's hard to tell who really was closer.

So. Fun words and etymologies. There are those in favor of online dictionaries above all else, but I ask you: would I have browsed across "chapfallen" (lit., having a low-hanging jaw; dejected) if I'd been searching an online dictionary? I think not.

Fabulous and fun words:
Attorn, v. To agree to remain the tenant on a property after it switches hands. The interesting thing about this, of course, is that it's from the OF torner, meaning "turn." This is the same route as "attorney:" an attorney is one who turns. Huh.

Blesbok, n. From the Afrikaans, explaining why it ends "bok." A Southern African antelope with a white blaze down its face.

Onychophagist, n. A fingernail-biter. From the Greek onux, fingernail, and phagos, eating. Onux also gives us onyx. Whee!

And my personal favorite:
Zeugma, n. A construction where a single word defines or governs two nouns, when its sense is appropriate to only one of them or to both in different ways. "She opened the door and her heart" or "He took my advice and my wallet." Fabulous already, isn't it? Well, on top of that it's from Latin, from the Greek, zeugnynai, the same root as yoke, zygote, jugular, and join. Much more fabulous! Especially since most yokes allow a person to exert differential pressure on each yoked animal.

Well, maybe it's just me.

Comments

[lysimache.livejournal.com]

Yay, zeugma! One of my favorite literary devices. (My favorite is actually praeteritio (preterition, in English), when you mention a subject by saying how you're not going to talk about it. For example, "Now I'm not going to talk about how Clodia slept with her brother, so I'll just tell you she's a stripper at Baiae," said Cicero. Comes from the verb 'praetereo', 'pass by'.) But zeugma's definitely up there, in no small part because it's one where everyone but Classicists look at you like you're really weird when you talk about it -- "Look at the zeugma the author used in that line!" "The what?" "The zeugma!" "Uh... okay." *g*

[eruthros]

Mmmm, praeteritio. I agree, it's a fabulous word, but part of the reason I fell instantly in love with "zeugma" is the way it sounds. Zeugma. It's fun to say, it's got an interesting etymology, and a cool definition. Makes for a fabulous word. (Strangely, I also really like the way "foibles" sounds, although it's not as intriguing in other ways. Saying "Aesop's foibles," though, is pretty amusing.)

I just don't think you can say "praeteritio" with quite the same emphasis.