Wondrous Words Wednesday (July 22)

Kathy at Bermudaonion’s Weblog hosts this weekly meme in which she asks us to share new words we’ve come across in our reading. Feel free to join in the fun.

All my words this week are from Farm City: The Education of an Urban Farmer by Novella Carpenter.

Pescatarian – “The pescatarians were shoving ceviche into their faces” (p. 138).

According to Merriam-Webster, a pescatarian (or pescetarian) is “one whose diet includes fish but no meat.” The funny thing is that I’m a pescatarian and I didn’t even know it! (Since I started eating fish again, I’ve always just called myself a vegetarian-who-eats-fish, not realizing there was a more specific term.) According to Wikipedia, pescetarian is a portmanteau of the Italian word pesce (meaning fish) and vegetarian.

Metate – “But I didn’t have a metate, the traditional stone grinder that Native Americans used, and I wasn’t about to destroy my electric coffee grinder” (p. 140).

Since the author explains what this is, I thought I’d provide a picture of one (courtesy of Wikipedia).

Brix – “‘The brix is at twenty-six,’ he said, referring to the sugar levels, and smiled” (p. 142).

According to Wikipedia, brix is a “measurement of the dissolved sugar-to-water mass ratio of a liquid. . . . [It] is primarily used in fruit juice, wine making and the sugar industry.”

Cathepsin – “If we had let the ducks rest for twenty-four hours, according to McGee, enzymes called cathepsins would have broken down the bound filaments, making the meat tender” (p. 158).

As the author mentions, cathepsins are “proteases: proteins that break apart other proteins, found in many types of cells, including those of other animals.” (See this Wikipedia definition for more details.)

Traducer – “In her book Framing the Black Panthers, historian Jane Rhodes describes on of these cartoons, which had the caption: ‘A Pig is an ill-natured beast who has no respect for law and order, a foul traducer who’s usually found masquerading as a victim of an unprovoked attack’” (p. 197).

A traducer is one who “speaks ill of; misrepresents.”* (And Rhodes is referring to cops, not farm animals!)

Eminent domain – “Then came BART, which used eminent domain to raze hundreds of homes and businesses” (p. 198).

According to Wikipedia, eminent domain is “is the inherent power of the state to seize a citizen’s private property, expropriate property, or seize a citizen’s rights in property with due monetary compensation, but without the owner’s consent.” (This is an American term; in Canada, it is simply known as expropriation.)

Prolifacy – “‘There were strength of character, ruggedness, prolifacy and the ability to put on pounds of pork on forage and concentrated feed’” (p. 202).

I couldn’t find a definition for prolifacy anywhere; Google suggested I was looking for prolificacy instead which means “great fertility,” according to the Wiktionary. I suspect these two words are synonyms. Does anybody else know for sure?

This book also introduced me to a bunch of plants I’d never heard of: penstemon, pellitory, chayote, perilla, cardoon and piri-piri (another name for African birdseye peppers).

What new words have you discovered lately? Share your Wondrous Words on Kathy’s blog.

*Unless otherwise noted, all definitions are from the Canadian Oxford Dictionary (2004).

Wondrous Words Wednesday (July 15)

Kathy at Bermudaonion’s Weblog hosts this weekly meme in which she asks us to share new words we’ve come across in our reading. Feel free to join in the fun.

All my words this week are from The Condition by Jennifer Haigh (which is not a tough read, despite what these words make it sound like!).

Apoptosis – “Manning was a leader in the hot new field of apoptosis; he’d been an early proponent of the theory that, under specific conditions, cells committed suicide . . .” (p. 46).

Apoptosis means “the death of cells which occurs as a normal and controlled part of an organism’s growth or development.”*

Oncogeneticist/oncogene – “He was a traditional oncogeneticist; he’d made his reputation by discovering a specific oncogene, XNR, and its role in tumor-cell signaling” (p. 46).

I had a hard time finding a definition for oncogeneticist (or at least a definition that made sense to me!). However, according to WordNet, an oncogene is “a gene that disposes normal cells to change into cancerous tumor cells.” I presume an oncogeneticist is a geneticist who studies oncogenes...

Picayune – “Hanging over his shoulder, she had instructed him endlessly: so persnickety, so picayune, that he had lost his temper” (p. 89).

This is another one of those words I feel I should know (I’ve certainly come across it before), but I wasn’t sure of its definition. Picayune means “contemptible, petty, insignificant.”

Nulliparous – “No, because Turner females are nulliparous” (p. 164).

According to Wikipedia, nulliparous means “that has not given birth.”

Cichlid – “A school of bright cichlids engulfed them” (p. 202).

A cichlid is “any tropical freshwater fish of the family Cichlidae, especially the kind kept in aquariums.” According to Wikipedia, “there are at least 1300 scientifically described species [in the Cichlidae family], making it one of the largest vertebrate families.” Tilapia is a cichlid.

Dinoflagellate – “The water was speckled with dinoflagellates, tiny particles of iridescent green” (p. 205).

A dinoflagellate is “a unicellular aquatic organism with two flagella, of a group variously classes as algae and protozoa.” Of course, I then had to look up flagellum (plural: flagella), which is “a long lash-like appendage found especially on microscopic organisms.”

Comorbidity – “And there is comorbidity with ADHD” (p. 232).

According to Wikipedia, comorbidity means “the presence of one or more disorders (or diseases) in addition to a primary disease or disorder.”

Onion snow – “. . . far, far away from Gatwick, where an onion snow was falling on his mean little house” (p. 260).

According to Dictionary.com, onion snow is “a snowfall in late spring; the last snow of the season.” This is a term used mostly in Pennsylvania, apparently.

What new words have you discovered lately? Share your Wondrous Words on Kathy’s blog.

*Unless otherwise noted, all definitions are from the Canadian Oxford Dictionary (2004).

Wondrous Words Wednesday (July 8)

Kathy at Bermudaonion’s Weblog hosts this weekly meme in which she asks us to share new words we’ve come across in our reading. Feel free to join in the fun.

These words are from The Impostor’s Daughter by Laurie Sandell:

Mnandi knife – “‘This one’s a beaut—it’s a mnandi knife with giraffe bone inlay’” (p. 4).

I couldn’t find a definition of mnandi knife, but from what I can gather from this site, it’s a type of pocket knife. Mnandi is a Zulu word, which means “very nice,” “delicious,” “handsome” or “admirable,” depending on which website you consult!

Hassock – “Karyn and I shared the hassock” (p. 22).

A hassock is “a thick firm cushion used to rest the feet on or, especially in church, to kneel on; an ottoman.”*

Redonkulous – “‘This is redonkulous!’” (p. 192).

According to the Urban Dictionary, redonkulous means “significantly more absurd than ridiculous to an almost impossible extreme; without possibility of serious consideration.” (Who knew I’d even find a definition for this ridiculous word?)

These next words are from Annie’s Ghosts: A Journey into a Family Secret by Steve Luxenberg.

Panzer – “. . . the German panzers managed to overwhelm their well-armored Russian counterparts” (p. 250).

Panzers (plural) are “armoured troops”; panzer also refers to “an armoured vehicle, especially a tank.” I know I should have known this, but I didn’t so I had to look it up!

Narcosynthesis – “‘Psychotherapy and narcosynthesis have been used with good results,’ the 313th commanding officer commented in his quarterly report” (pp. 304-305).

According to Dictionary.com, narcosynthesis is “a treatment for psychiatric disturbances that uses narcotics.”

Ruffing and finessing – “. . . for Mom, it’s another way to be close, although that’s not something that crosses my mind, not even for an instant, as she instructs me on counting cards and the finer points of ruffing and finessing” (p. 320).

To ruff means to “trump at cards,” while to finesse in bridge (which is what they are playing) is to “attempt to win a trick with a card that is not the highest held.”

What new words have you discovered lately? Share your Wondrous Words on Kathy’s blog.

*Unless otherwise noted, all definitions are from the Canadian Oxford Dictionary (2004).

Wondrous Words Wednesday (July 1)

Kathy at Bermudaonion’s Weblog hosts this weekly meme in which she asks us to share new words we’ve come across in our reading. Feel free to join in the fun.

All my words this week are from The Opposite of Love by Julie Buxbaum.

Marquise – “‘Princess, oval, marquise?’” (p. 10).

Marquise is “a pointed oval shape cut of a diamond, usually with 58 facets.”*

Pantsing/swirlie – “Carl must have been pantsed daily in high school, been beaten up in the cafeteria, perhaps even swirlied” (p. 26).

According to Wikipedia, pantsing and swirlies are both school pranks. Pantsing is “the act of pulling down a person’s pants . . . and sometimes also the person’s underwear,” while a swirlie involves “holding the victim upside down with his or her head in the toilet bowl, and flushing.”

Punt – “‘Jess, I’m not trying to punt here, but can we talk about this later?’” (p. 36).

According to my dictionary, to punt has several meaning: to “propel (a punt) with a pole, or travel or convey in a punt,” to “kick (a ball, especially in football or rugby) after it has dropped from the hands and before it reaches the ground” or to “lay a stake against the bank, gamble or bet; speculate.” However, none of these definitions are appropriate here. The Urban Dictionary offers one more possibility: “to skip classes or avoid doing work,” which sounds more like it.

Bouclé – “She wears a bouclé Chanel suit, and her hair is sprayed into a platinum globe around her head” (p. 59).

Bouclé is a type of “yarn (especially wool) with a looped or curled ply; or a fabric knitted or woven from this yarn, having a knotted and curled appearance.”

Schadenfreude – “It is the culture of competition stirred with schadenfreude that I find disheartening” (p. 189-190).

Schadenfreude means “the malicious enjoyment of another’s misfortunes.”

Jenga – “‘No! Jenga!’ she says, and throws her hands in the air” (p. 199).

According to Wikipedia, Jenga is “a game of physical and mental skill . . . in which players remove blocks from a tower and put them on top.”

What new words have you discovered lately? Share your Wondrous Words on Kathy’s blog.

*Unless otherwise noted, all definitions are from the Canadian Oxford Dictionary (2004).

Wondrous Words Wednesday (June 17)

Kathy at Bermudaonion’s Weblog hosts this weekly meme in which she asks us to share new words we’ve come across in our reading. Feel free to join in the fun.

All my words this week are from The Local News by Miriam Gershow.

Cacodemon – “‘Cacodemon’s a good one,’ I said, but my heart wasn’t in it” (p. 46).

According to Wikipedia, a cacodemon is “an evil spirit or demon (in the modern sense of the word). The opposite of a cacodemon is an agathodaemon or eudaemon, a good spirit or angel.”

Paladin – “He was a first-level paladin” (p. 100).

According to my dictionary, a paladin is “any of the twelve peers of Charlemagne’s court, of whom the Count Palatine was the chief; a knight errant, a champion; or a dedicated advocate or supporter of a cause.”* However, since they are referring to Dungeons & Dragons here, I had to turn to Wikipedia for a more precise definition: a paladin is “one of the standard playable character classes in most editions of the Dungeons & Dragons fantasy role-playing games. The paladin is a holy knight, crusading in the name of good and order.”

Eluviation – “‘Humus first and then topsoil and eluviation and then, and then . . .’” (p. 109).

Dictionary.com defines eluvium as “a deposit of soil, dust, etc., formed from the decomposition of rock and found in its place of origin” (which is surely what the character was thinking of) and thus eluviation is “the lateral or downward movement of dissolved or suspended material within soil when rainfall exceeds evaporation.”

Regolith – “‘Regolith,’ she finally said” (p. 109).

Regolith is “unconsolidated solid material covering the bedrock of a planet.”

Trifecta – “. . . my mother having ventured uncharacteristically into the world to buy tampons, dish soap, and dog food, a trifecta of scarcity that even she could not ignore” (p. 223).

A trifecta is “a group of three related events or people.” (Hmm, I’m not sure how tampons, dish soap and dog food are related, except in the most general of ways...)

What new words have you discovered lately? Share your Wondrous Words on Kathy’s blog.

*Unless otherwise noted, all definitions are from the Canadian Oxford Dictionary (2004).

Wondrous Words Wednesday (June 10)

Kathy at Bermudaonion’s Weblog hosts this weekly meme in which she asks us to share new words we’ve come across in our reading. Feel free to join in the fun.

All my words this week are from Katherine’s Wish by Linda Lappin.

Mistral – “Here the sun was out, though the sky was streaked with gray and a mistral was blowing” (p. 14).

A mistral is “a cold north wind that blows down the Rhone valley and southern France into the Mediterranean.”*

Maenad – “On a mound of kelp lay the decapitated head of a china doll, the blue paint of its eyes chipped away; its maenad hair threaded with seaweed” (p. 37).

A maenad is “a bacchante, or a frenzied woman.” (In case you’re wondering, as I was, what the exact definition of a bacchante is, it’s “a female bacchant,” i.e. “a priest[ess], worshipper or follower of Bacchus, or a drunken reveller.”)

Scrittoire – “Carco took a wad of francs from the drawer of his scrittoire . . .” (p. 51).

I couldn’t find scrittoire in my dictionary or online, but Google suggested maybe I was looking for the word escritoire, which my dictionary defines as “a writing desk with drawers for papers, envelopes, etc. and usually a hing flap to conceal these.” I presume this is what the author meant.

Monitory – “‘No,’ said Katherine, placing her hand on Ida’s arm and giving it a monitory squeeze” (p. 84).

Monitory means “giving or serving as a warning” (which I could guess from the context). As a noun, it also means “a letter of admonition from the Pope or bishop.”

Cataplasm – “. . . as doctors will do, . . . shaking their heads and noting things down, then prescribing the same useless drops, injections, and cataplasms as always” (p. 129).

According to Wikipedia, cataplasm is another word for poultice.

Demijohn – “Here were the jars of olive oil and demijohns of wine, great wheels of cheese, slabs of butter . . .” (p. 157).

A demijohn is “a bulbous narrow-necked bottle holding from 11 to 38 litres and usually in a wicker cover.”

What new words have you discovered lately? Share your Wondrous Words on Kathy’s blog.

*Unless otherwise noted, all definitions are from the Canadian Oxford Dictionary (2004).

Wondrous Words Wednesday (June 3)

Kathy at Bermudaonion’s Weblog hosts this weekly meme in which she asks us to share new words we’ve come across in our reading. Feel free to join in the fun.

All my words this week are from Keeping Watch by Laurie R. King. (Warning! Some of my quotes and definitions are somewhat disturbing as parts of this book are set during the Vietnam War.)

Ville – “Going through the pockets of a long-dead enemy soldier, dropping down the check a bunker they’d thought was empty but which a fragmentation grenade had proved was not, watching a brutal interrogation, loading a ville’s weeping inhabitants into a Chinook like cattle—you had to stand aside mentally and let your hands and eyes do their job” (p. 5).

I couldn’t find a definition of ville that fit this context. Ville means “city” or “town” in French, but is used in this novel to designate villages as far as I could tell. Is anyone else familiar with this term? (Oh and in case you’re wondering, as I was, a Chinook is a type of helicopter.)

Concertina wire – “In the half-light of early evening the [Night Defensive Post] was a sunbaked, half-bald hillock covered with sandbags and canvas, set off from the rice fields, noodle shops, and refugee shacks by a perimeter of contertina wire and guard posts . . . ” (p. 28).

Concertinan wire is “barbed wire in coils, placed at the top of fences, etc.”*

Pungi-stick – “Patrols now rarely went without some sign of the enemy: a bullet out of the heavens, the odd booby trap, once a patch of pungi-sticks stretched across a faiint path, serving to keep their eyes stretched and thei spines crawling” (p. 43).

According to Wikipedia, a pungi-stick (or punji stick) is “a type of booby trapped stake. It is a simple spike, made out of wood or bamboo, generally placed upright in the ground.” (I’ll spare you further details about this method of guerilla warfare, but feel free to pop over to Wikipedia to read more about it.)

Toe-popper – “‘The whole thing’s like some kind of lethal kids’ game, like—I don’t know, musical chairs played with toe-poppers’” (p. 49).

According to the Urban Dictionary, toe-poppers are another name for “M14 anti-personnel mines, widely employed by U.S. Soldiers during the Vietnam Conflict.” They were called toe-poppers “due to their low explosive charge, which was just capable of blowing a man’s foot off.”

Stanchion – “Allen eased himself back behind the stanchion, stripped off his warm but rustling raincoat, and prayed that Todd hadn’t fallen asleep” (p. 115).

A stanchion is “a post or pillar, an upright support, a vertical strut.”

Greenstick fracture – “The exam brought to light . . . an old greenstick fracture . . .” (p. 181).

A greenstick fracture is “a bone fracture, especially in children, in which one side of the bone is broken and one only bent.”

Panatela – “Next to the glasses lay a half-empty pack of six-inch panetelas” (p. 324).

A panatela is “a long thin cigar.”

Enuresis – “‘I’m no expert, but even I’ve heard of the three danger signs of enuresis, arson, and animal abuse’” (p. 341).

Enuresis means “involuntary urination.”

Epiphytic – “. . . between the drooping tree branches, the waist-high ferns, and the swaths of epiphytic moss connecting them, there didn’t seem to be any room for air, much less sunshine” (p. 354).

Epiphytic comes from epiphyte, which is “a plant growing but not parasitic on another (e.g. a moss).”

What new words have you discovered lately? Share your Wondrous Words on Kathy’s blog.

*Unless otherwise noted, all definitions are from the Canadian Oxford Dictionary (2004).

Wondrous Words Wednesday (May 27)

Kathy at Bermudaonion’s Weblog hosts this weekly meme in which she asks us to share new words we’ve come across in our reading. Feel free to join in the fun.

All my words this week are from Crossed Wires by Rosy Thornton.

Parky – “. . . Nana had much more often had call to complain of its being parky, up there on the deck access” (p. 3).

Parky means “chilly.”*

Chipolata – “Which of course made her begin at once to worry herself, taking all the enjoyment out of her single Lincolnshire pork chipolata” (p. 38).

A chipolata is “a small thin sausage.”

Jalfrezi – “She would have called out but her tongue was fat and uncooperative with sleep, her throat as dry as if she had had those lagers with Murray and a jalfrezi as well, instead of her solitary mug of tea and two cold sausages on a saucer” (p. 44).

Jalfrezi isn’t in my dictionary or in Dictionary.com, but Wikipedia defines it as “a type of Indian curry in which marinated pieces of meat or vegetables are fried in oil and spices to produce a dry, thick sauce.”

Invidious – “But the lecture on fire safety which was forming itself upon his lips suddenly struck him as invidious” (p. 49).

Invidious is an adjective used to describe an action, conduct, attitude, etc. that is “likely to excite resentment or indignation against the person responsible, especially by real or seeming injustice.”

Gennel – “Where they left the pavements for a short way to cut up the gennel beside the newsagent’s and then past the swings on the triangle of untidy grass . . .” (p. 65).

No sign of this word in my dictionary, Dictionary.com or Wikipedia, but the Urban Dictionary provides this definition: a gennel “is a covered alleyway connecting two terrace houses.”

Giro – “‘No, she gets her giro, so she ought to be able to make do all right’” (p. 157).

Giro is “a system of credit transfer between banks, post offices, etc., or a cheque or payment by giro, especially used for unemployment benefit or social security payments.”

Cutting – “‘Sat in a cutting near Baldock for nearly an hour’” (p. 213).

In this context, a cutting refers to “an excavated channel through high ground for a railway or road.”

Excursus – “. . . once they were away, she settled back in the passenger seat happily enough, keeping him distracted, as he negotiated the multiple roundabouts of the ring road, with an excursus on how greatly the state of Sheffield’s public housing stock had suffered . . .” (p. 267).

An excursus is “a detailed discussion of a special point in a book, usually in an appendix, or a digression in a narrative.”

Viva – “‘The best thing is to try to forget all about it until we hear about a date for your viva’” (p. 307).

I think viva is short for viva voce, which is “an oral examination for an academic qualification.”

What new words have you discovered lately? Share your Wondrous Words on Kathy’s blog.

*Unless otherwise noted, all definitions are from the Canadian Oxford Dictionary (2004).

Wondrous Words Wednesday (May 6)

Kathy at Bermudaonion’s Weblog hosts this weekly meme in which she asks us to share new words we’ve come across in our reading. Feel free to join in the fun.

All my words this week are from The Wishing Year by Noelle Oxenhandler.

Schizophrenogenic – “That is, my still rented and increasingly schizophrenogenic house in which there is till no respite from the voices” (p. 87).

Schizophrenogenic is not in my Canadian Oxford, but Dictionary.com defines it as “causative of schizophrenia.”

Expatiation – “Lacking rituals of expatiation, we rely on illness and other forms of catastrophe to earn the fulfillment of our wishes” (p. 142).

According to my dictionary, expatiation comes from the verb expatiate, which means to “speak or write at length or in detail.”* However, that doesn’t seem to fit the context here, so I also looked it up on Dictionary.com, which provides an additional (archaic) definition: “to move or wander about intellectually, imaginatively, etc., without restraint.” This still doesn’t totally make sense to me in this context though...

Zafu – “Everyone falls off their zafus with laughter” (p. 145).

Dictionary.com defines zafu as “a round thick cushion for sitting meditation, sometimes used on top of a mat.”

Keratosis – “‘But what you have is not a wart. It’s a keratosis’” (p. 207).

A keratosis is “a skin condition marked by hairy growths.”

Theurgist – “And then, as though I had the ancient gift of theurgists to make the statues talk, I feel as though I hear a voice—a strange voice, somewhere between a neigh, a bray, and a snort” (p. 245).

Theurgist is from theurgy, which means “supernatural or divine agency especially in human affairs, or the art of securing this.”

What new words have you discovered lately? Share your Wondrous Words on Kathy’s blog.

*Unless otherwise noted, all definitions are from the Canadian Oxford Dictionary (2004).

Wondrous Words Wednesday (April 29)

Kathy at Bermudaonion’s Weblog hosts this weekly meme in which she asks us to share new words we’ve come across in our reading. All my words are from Places I Never Meant to Be: Original Stories by Censored Writers edited by Judy Blume.

My first word is from the story “The Beast Is in the Labyrinth” by Walter Dean Myers:

Jitney– “They squeeze into the jitney and I decide to walk” (p. 112).

A jitney is a “bus or other vehicle carrying passengers for a low far, originally five cents.”*

My second word is from the story “Baseball Camp” by David Klass:

Chaw – “The large chaw of chewing tobacco in his mouth caused him to spit regularly, and he timed those occasions to nearly punctuate his story” (p. 128).

A chaw can refer to “chewing tobacco, or a wad of this.” (This one was pretty obvious from the context!)

My last two words are from the story “Love and Centipedes” by Paul Zindel (which I can’t say I enjoyed):

Monstrance – “Emotion burst from her chest, a hallucinatory rush that she was a living monstrance or an elaborate dollhouse” (p. 145).

A monstrance is “a receptacle, usually of gold or silver, with an open or transparent compartment in which the consecrated Host is exposed for veneration.”

Sauerbraten – “‘Remember, you had sauerbraten and I had the Black Forest blood sausages?’” (p. 148).

Sauerbraten is “a roast of beef marinated in vinegar with peppercorns, onions, and other seasonings before cooking.”

What new words have you discovered lately? Share your Wondrous Words on Kathy’s blog.

*All definitions are from the Canadian Oxford Dictionary (2004).

Wondrous Words Wednesday (April 22)

Kathy at Bermudaonion’s Weblog hosts this weekly meme in which she asks us to share new words we’ve come across in our reading. The first three words I found are from Coventry by Helen Humphreys:

Provost – “She recognized the provost, an important dignitary in the city” (p. 58).

A provost can be “a member of the military police; a high-ranking ecclesiastical dignitary; or the head of some colleges, especially at Oxford or Cambridge.”* I suspect the second definition is the correct one here.

Guzzle – “There is a word I remember from my childhood–guzzle–a low, perhaps damp spot on an estuary or inland from a beach, as far inland sometimes as to be a field, where the sea can enter if it chooses” (p. 73).

It’s a good thing this word is defined in the book because I couldn’t find this definition anywhere else. However, the American Meteorological Society defines guzzle as Shetland Islands term meaning “an angry blast of wind, dry and parching” in their Glossary of Meteorology.

Finial – “The finial on the stair rail comes off in her hand when she grabs it to steady herself” (p. 123).

A finial is “an ornament finishing off the apex of a roof, pediment, gable, etc. or an ornamental knob on the top of a piece of furniture, stair post, etc.” The latter is obviously the correct definition here.

My last word is from The Next Big Thing by Johanna Edwards:

Lavalier – “‘The wire, which should be concealed beneath your shirt, connects the transmitter to your lavalier mic, or lapel microphone if you prefer’” (p. 132).

A lavaliere (alternate spellings: lavalier or lavalliere) is “a small microphone worn hanging around the neck.” It can also refer to “a pendant necklace or a loosely tied cravat.”

What new words have you discovered lately? Share your Wondrous Words on Kathy’s blog.

*Unless otherwise noted, all definitions are from the Canadian Oxford Dictionary (2004).

Wondrous Words Wednesday (April 15)

Kathy at Bermudaonion’s Weblog hosts this weekly meme in which she asks us to share new words we’ve come across in our reading. These are the last of the words I found in In the Woods by Tana French:

Epithelial – “So no epithelials, either” (p. 217).

The epithelium is “the tissue forming the outer layer of the body surface and lining many hollow structures.”*

Hurley – “My desk in school, old deep-grained wood with an obsolete hole in the top for an inkwell, worn shiny and inlaid with years of doodles: a hurley stick, a heart with the initials inside scribbled over . . .” (p. 243).

Hurley is “an Irish game somewhat resembling field hockey, played with broad stick.”

Exegesis – “We gave him an elaborate exegesis of what we had done to find Katy Devlin’s killer, and why it hadn’t worked” (p. 265).

An exegesis is a “critical explanation of a text, especially of Scripture.” (Hmm, not sure that’s the right word in this context...)

Witter – “What are you wittering about now?” (p. 273).

To witter means to “speak tediously and at length on trivial matters.” I could figure out what the word meant from the context, but I don’t think I’d ever seen or heard it before.

Gurrier – “‘Little gurriers,’ Mrs Fitzgerald said with relish” (p. 302).

No sign of this word in either my dictionary or Wikipedia, but the Urban Dictionary provides several definitions along the same lines: a gurrier is “a Dublin scumbag,” “a corner-boy or hooligan” or “Irish slang for a not very nice person.” Again, this one wasn’t too hard to figure out from the context!

Banjax – “‘If that motorway doesn’t go through Knocknaree, and fast,’ Sam said succinctly, ‘the boy’s banjaxed’” (p. 346).

To banjax means to “ruin, incapacitate.”

Langer – “‘Hang on, Is he langered?’ Cassie asked” (p. 349).

Langer is not in my dictionary and Wikipedia defines it as either a “fool; idiot; annoying or contemptible person (usually male)” or as slang for penis, neither of which applies here. The Urban Dictionary again came to the rescue, defining it as a word of Cork origin with several meanings depending on the context including “to be intoxicated,” which is clearly what Cassie means here.

Votary – “She must have thought, sometimes, of her namesake, the votary branded with her god’s most inventive and sadistic curse: to tell the truth, and never to be believed” (p. 427).

A votary is “a devoted follower of a religion, deity, or cult, especially one who is bound, by vow, to the worship of God; or a devoted follower, adherent or advocate of a person, cause, occupation, or pursuit.”

What new words have you discovered lately? Share your Wondrous Words.

*Unless otherwise noted, all definitions are from the Canadian Oxford Dictionary (2004).

Wondrous Words Wednesday (April 8)

Kathy at Bermudaonion’s Weblog hosts this weekly meme in which she asks us to share new words we’ve come across in our reading. These words come from In the Woods by Tana French:

Soupçon – “We mostly shop at Brown Thomas, during the sales, and occasionally come into work wearing embarrassingly identical soupçons” (p. 16).

As far as I know, a soupçon is “a very small amount; a dash or hint,”* but that just doesn’t make sense in this context. I couldn’t find any other definitions online. Does anyone know of an alternate definition for soupçon that could work here?

Bogger – “And that lobotomised bogger knows it” (p. 20).

Bogger isn’t in my dictionary, but according to Wikipedia, it is “an an Irish derisory term for someone not from a city.”

Bespoke – “Few people would have considered her beautiful, but my tastes have always leaned towards bespoke rather than brand-name . . .” (p. 21).

Bespoke, when speaking of goods, especially clothing, means “made to order.”

Jink – “. . . the light jinking off fragments of mica in the rutted ground looked too bright , tricky and fevered” (p. 32).

To jink is to “move elusively; dodge.”

Mattock – “So after the tea break Mark told me and Mel to go up there and mattock it back while the others did the drainage ditch” (p. 54).

A mattock is “an agricultural tool shaped like a pickaxe, with an adze and a chisel edge as the ends of the head.” To mattock, then, presumably means to use such a tool, although the verb is not in my dictionary.

Dote – “Katy was . . . a dote” (p. 70).

According to my dictionary, dote is a verb meaning to “be foolishly or excessively fond of,” a definition I was already familiar with. However, according to Wikipedia, the noun dote is an Irish term meaning “a darling, a cutie.”

Satsuma – “. . . all of us yelling, and Jamie leaping up to fire a spare satsuma as the thing bounded away with a crash of leaves” (p. 147-148).

A satsuma is “a variety of tangerine originally grown in Japan.”

Bowsie – “That Devlin lad used to be a bit of a bowsie . . .” (p. 155).

I couldn’t find bowsie in my dictionary or in Wikipedia, but the Urban Dictionary defines it as “a Dublin term for a scumbag.”

What new words have you discovered lately? Share your Wondrous Words.

*Unless otherwise noted, all definitions are from the Canadian Oxford Dictionary (2004).

Wondrous Words Wednesday (April 1)

Kathy at Bermudaonion’s Weblog hosts this weekly meme in which she asks us to share new words we’ve come across in our reading. These words come from Pathologies: A Life in Essays by Susan Olding:

Sybaritic – “By the late thirteenth century, the wealthy population had swelled to nearly two million, and the city was renowned for its sybaritic life” (p. 128).

A sybarite is “a person who is self-indulgent or devoted to sensuous luxury”*; the word originally meant an inhabitant of Sybaris , a 6th-century BC city noted for luxury located in what is now Southern Italy.

Proscenium – “Rows of red plastic chairs and gray Formica tables, bolted to the floor, faced a raised proscenium” (p. 139).

A prosceniums is “an arch that forms a frame at the front of a stage, or the part of the stage in front of the drop or curtain, usually with the enclosing arch.”

Hutong – “Stories about the abduction and sale of women circulate in the hutongs and on the news . . .” (p. 143).

Hutong is a Chinese word and obviously wasn’t in my dictionary. According to Wikipedia, hutongs “are narrow streets or alleys, most commonly associated with Beijing, China. In Beijing, hutongs are alleys formed by lines of siheyuan, traditional courtyard residences. Many neighbourhoods were formed by joining one siheyuan to another to form a hutong, and then joining one hutong to another. The word hutong is also used to refer to such neighbourhoods.”

Chalcedony – “Chalcedony. An agate. Soothes the mind and promotes balance” (p. 173).

Chalcedony is “a type of quartz occurring in several different forms, e.g. onyx, agate, tiger’s eye, etc.”

Panegyric – “Along with the panegyrics they permitted themselves a few little words like impatient and intense” (p. 187).

A panegyric is “a laudatory or praising discourse, speech, etc.”

What new words have you discovered lately? Share your Wondrous Words.

*Unless otherwise noted, all definitions are from the Canadian Oxford Dictionary (2004).

Wondrous Words Wednesday (March 25)

Kathy at Bermudaonion’s Weblog hosts this weekly meme in which she asks us to share new words we’ve come across in our reading. I’ve just finished reading Sing Them Home by Stephanie Kallos, so all these words are from that book:

Sectional – “She drifts into the darkened living room and sits back down on the sectional” (p. 279).

A sectional is “a piece of furniture, such as a couch, composed of sections which can be used separately.”* I gathered this from the context, but hadn’t heard the term before.

Introit – “‘Thanks for being here,’ he says. It seems like a harmless enough introit.” (p. 390).

An introit is “a psalm or antiphon sung or said while the priest approaches the altar for the Eucharist, or a choral response used at the start of a worship service.” (I’ve got to wonder if the author is using this word correctly here.)

Peritoneum, mediastinal – “It is not just her muscles that release, but tendons, sinews, cartilage, whatever attaches bone to bone, organ to peritoneum, heart to mediastinal space” (p. 483).

The peritoneum is “the serous membrane lining the cavity of the abdomen,” which is the kind of definition that makes me go huh? (In case, like me, you also need a definition of serous, it means “of or like or producing serum; watery.”) Mediastinal is an adjective referring to the mediastinum, a “membranous middle septum, especially between the lungs.”

Zaftig – “She is absenting herself from the University of Nebraska campus, the responsibilities of summer school teaching, the daily sight of the bronze zaftig women in the sculpture garden” (pp. 492-493).

Zaftig means “plump, having a full, rounded figure.” I’m sure I’ve seen this word before, but I must confessed I didn’t know what it means!

Lingula – “One part of the sky’s canvas has an undulating, edged appearance, like drifted snow or sand dunes; another part has the look of human organs lit from within: balloon-shaped and placental, having a veined appearance, or like marble, or like the oxygenated lingulae of the lungs” (p. 510).

This word is not in my dictionary, but Dictionary.com defines it as “a tongue-shaped organ, process or tissue.”

What new words have you discovered lately? Share your Wondrous Words.

*Unless otherwise noted, all definitions are from the Canadian Oxford Dictionary (2004).

Wondrous Words Wednesday (March 18)

Kathy at Bermudaonion’s Weblog hosts this weekly meme in which she asks us to share new words we’ve come across in our reading. I’ve just finished reading Sing Them Home by Stephanie Kallos, so all my words are from that book:

Soubrettish – “Some look saucy and soubrettish” (p. 115).

A soubrette is“a pert maidservant or similar female character in a play, ballet or musical comedy, or an actress taking this part.”* Soubrettish is therefore someone who is acting like a soubrette, someone pert or vivacious.

Rogue – “If it’s any comfort, I know about detasseling and roguing corn” (p. 136).

To rogue is to “remove inferior or defective plants or seedlings from a crop.”

Catafalque – “No one would suspect that, in the next room, a dead man is lying draped in his coffin on a catafalque . . .” (p. 146).

A catafalque is “a decorated wooden framework for supporting the coffin of a distinguished person during a funeral or while lying in state.”

Fricative – “She loves them all, even the ones whose voices are less melodious: birds who sound like the unoiled hinges of porch screen doors, birds whose voices are metallic and fricative, like the ratchets the Labenz boys use to tighten car parts at the Texaco” (p. 168).

Fricative means “(of a consonant sound) produced by the friction of the airstream through a narrow opening in the mouth.”

Holochroal – “She opens the dictionary at random, sets her finger on the page, and finds ‘holochroal: having compound eyes with the visual area covered by an continuous cornea—used esp. of certain trilobites’” (p. 190).

OK, so this one is cheating a bit, considering the word is defined in the book, which is lucky since it isn’t in my dictionary!

Zwieback – “On the flip side, she hasn’t bitten anything, not even a zwieback” (p. 270).

A zwieback is “a sweet rich egg bread, sliced and baked again until crisp.” Of all the words I’ve defined in WWW posts, this is the only one where context gave me nothing to go on and I really had no idea what this could mean!

What new words have you discovered lately? Share your Wondrous Words.

*All definitions are from the Canadian Oxford Dictionary (2004).

Wondrous Words Wednesday (March 11)

Kathy at Bermudaonion’s Weblog hosts this weekly meme in which she asks us to share new words we’ve come across in our reading. I’ve just finished rereading Good to a Fault by Marina Endicott, so my first word comes from that book; all the other words are from Sing Them Home by Stephanie Kallos:

Shemozzle – “That was all a pretty big shemozzle, her getting better” (p. 347).

A shemozzle is “a brawl or commotion; a muddle,”* which I had gathered from the context, although I was not familiar with this word.

Cenotaph – “Cenotaphs are such a waste of real estate” (p. 20).

A cenotaph is “a tomb-like monument, especially a war memorial, to a person or persons whose bodies are interred elsewhere.”

Extemporized – “In a very short time, he must stand in front of a live camera and translate multiple columns of numbers into a concise, comprehensive, friendly, and wholly extemporized summary . . .” (p. 35).

To extemporize means to “compose or produce (music, a speech, etc.) without preparation; to improvise.” (I feel like I should have known what this word means!)

Caduceus – “He smoothed the passing of the caduceus (as he liked to say) in other ways as well” (p. 45).

A caduceus is “a staff with a winged top and two serpents coiled around it, especially as carried by Hermes or Mercury; this staff as a symbol of the medical profession.” This is a word I was vaguely familiar with, but wouldn’t have been able to define without looking it up.

Glassine – “So when Larken is required to visit the gallery, she takes comfort in the marble, its highly reflective surface, its glassine smoothness” (p. 58).

Glassine is “a glossy transparent paper.” Again, I was not familiar with this word, but could guess its meaning from the context.

What new words have you discovered lately? Share your Wondrous Words.

*All definitions are from the Canadian Oxford Dictionary (2004).

Wondrous Words Wednesday (February 25)

Kathy at Bermudaonion’s Weblog hosts this weekly meme in which she asks us to share new words we’ve come across in our reading. I’m actually still rereading Good to a Fault by Marina Endicott, so I have a few more words from that book this week:

Suffragan – “His car not being completely reliable, Paul took the bus to the Diocesan office in Regina to see the suffragan bishop” (p. 96).

In the Anglican Church, suffragan is a term “designating a bishop appointed to help a diocesan bishop in the administration of a diocese; an auxiliary bishop.”*

Scotch – “He should have had the courage to scotch her stupid jealousy, for her own sake as well as his comfort” (p. 97).

In this context, scotch means to “put an end to,” a definition I gathered from the context, although I wasn’t familiar with this usage of the word.

Wow – “It [the kitchen table] had a wow in the middle and she was sick of it” (p. 151).

According to my dictionary, in addition to its well-known meaning, wow also refers to “a slow pitch-fluctuation in sound reproduction, perceptible in long notes”; however, this doesn’t sound like something a kitchen table could have! The Wikipedia definition refers to a similar phenomenon in video recording that can cause the top of the picture to wobble, which made me wonder if the table was wobbly. Can anyone else shed light on this term?

Edited to add: Melanie from The Indextrious Reader confirmed that wow, in this context, is “a common term to describe a warp or a curve in a piece of wood.” Thanks, Melanie!

Grommet– “Banging reverberated in the basement, and Dolly and Trevor kept slipping down to check on things and being sent back upstairs with urgent messages like Tell Clary we need a three-pronged grommet, by Thursday, go tell her right now” (p. 168).

Being a big fan of Wallace and Gromit, I’m sure I must have looked up the word grommet before, but I didn’t remember what it means. A grommet is “a metal, plastic, or rubber eyelet, especially placed in a hole to protect or insulate a rope or cable, etc. passed through it.” (Obviously, there’s no such thing as a three-pronged grommet!)

Zephyr – “When Clary had walked the children to school she decided, blown by some needling zephyr, to take Pearce over to the hospital” (p. 193).

A zephyr is “a mild gentle wind or breeze.”

What new words have you discovered lately? Share your Wondrous Words.

*Unless otherwise noted, all definitions are from the Canadian Oxford Dictionary (2004).

Wondrous Words Wednesday (February 18)

Kathy at Bermudaonion’s Weblog has just starting hosting this weekly meme in which she asks us to share new words we’ve come across in our reading. Here are some new words I noticed as I was writing my review of Good to a Fault by Marina Endicott:

Petechiae – “The little bruises, those are petechiae” (p. 21).

This was the only word I couldn’t find in my dictionary. Wikipedia defines petechia (plural petechiae) as “a small red or purple spot on the body, caused by a minor hemorrhage (broken capillary blood vessels).”

Porphyry – “Porphyry, periphery, preface... He drew back from the precipice” (p. 25).

My Canadian Oxford Dictionary (2004)* defines porphyry as “a hard rock quarried in ancient Egypt, composed of crystals of white or red feldspar in a red matrix” or “an igneous rock with large crystals scattered in a matrix of much smaller crystals.” It comes from porphura, which means purple.

Locum – “The hospital chaplain was away all summer in English, locum at a parish in the Lake District” (p. 25).

Locum means “a temporary substitute, especially for a doctor, lawyer, minister, etc.”

Continuo – “As a running continuo underneath conversation, louder when he was alone, Paul heard his wife’s voice saying things to him, short sentences which were hard to bear” (p. 54).

Continuo is a musical term that means “an accompaniment consisting of a bass line and harmonies which are indicated by figures, usually played on a keyboard instrument.”

Redound – “Christian action doesn’t redound well when it’s done in public” (p. 128).

Redound means “make a great contribution to (one’s credit or advantage, etc.)” or “come as the final result to; come back or recoil upon.”

I was surprised to find so many words I didn’t know in this book, since the first time I read it I didn’t notice them!

What new words have you discovered lately? Share your Wondrous Words.

*Unless otherwise noted, all definitions are from this dictionary.