Archive for October, 2009
October 7th, 2009
“Hobnob” is a word you don’t hear much anymore, maybe because it has more pasts than presents.
It used to be a noun for “a friendly chat,” an adverb for “at random,” and a verb for “to drink together.” Webster’s gives all three the label “now rare.”
What has survived is “hobnob” as a verb for “to be on close terms (with someone); associate in a familiar way.”
So what does this have to do with Ernest Hemingway? I’m glad you asked.
The origin of the word is the Middle English “habben, ne habben” — literally, “to have and not have.”
Yes, film buffs, we have arrived at 1944 and the Howard Hawks movie “To Have and Have Not,” which paired Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall, then 19, for the first time.
The script, which literary giant William Faulkner had a hand in, was loosely based on a book by Hemingway.
Other notables in the film were “Stardust” composer Hoagy Carmichael; three-time Oscar winner Walter Brennan; and character actor Sheldon Leonard, better known as producer of four classic TV series: “The Danny Thomas Show,” “The Andy Griffith Show,” “The Dick Van Dyke Show” and “I Spy.”
Now that would have been a group to hobnob with.
October 6th, 2009
I’m a big fan of simplicity, but sometimes we try to make English too simple.
Case in point: Here’s an entry in The Associated Press Stylebook — recur, recurred, recurring. Not “reoccur.”
The problem is, there’s a subtle difference between “reoccur” and “recur.”
I concur with trying to avoid “reoccur.” It simply means “to happen again.” So why not just say “happen again” instead of “reoccur,” which seems inelegant.
However, “recur” is perfect for “to appear at intervals.” In other words, for when something occurs again and again.
That’s how we get the adjective “recurrent” for “intermittent.”
All of them can be traced to the Latin verb “currere,” for “to run,” which is also where “current” comes from.
And you thought it came from electrical devices.
October 5th, 2009
The dictionary’s third definition of “dilemma” is “any serious problem,” and it gives “predicament” as a synonym. This is about as loose as usage can get.
The word comes from the Greek “di-” for “two” and “lemma” for “proposition.” Its original sense, and still its first definition, is “an argument necessitating a choice between equally unfavorable or disagreeable alternatives.”
Its second definition expands its reach beyond arguments to any situation presenting two such options — in other words, “between a rock and a hard place.”
There are many kinds of problems, and many words for them, including the aforementioned “predicament,” “plight,” “quandary,” “pickle” and “fix.
Let’s keep “dilemma” for those no-win situations where there are two choices and both stink. To be “on the horns of a dilemma” is a particularly unpleasant place to be.
