Tools of the Trade: Special Presidential Inauguration Edition!

I've read mixed reactions to the Inauguration Poem, Praise Song for the Day by Elizabeth Alexander. Personally, I liked it. I listened to the proceedings live on the radio (because I was in my car, not because I don't believe in TV or the Internet), and found it thought-provoking and appropriate for the event.

The use of the word "declaimed" in the sixth stanza caught me a bit short, though, as I realized I wasn't entirely sure what that word meant. In the context of the poem, it seemed to mean something along the lines of "proclaimed" ... but why would "de" and "pro" have the same meaning? Then again, "declared" starts with "de" and is a synonym for "proclaimed."

Anyway, long story short: My curiosity about the use of that word in the Inauguration Poem inspired this edition of "Tools of the Trade." (You can find past editions here.) Upon reading the poem, I noted two words I wasn't entirely sure about: "declaimed" and "filial." So I thought I'd explore those two words along with the word "inauguration."

Credit for much of this info goes to the Online Etymology Dictionary.

Inauguration dates back to 1569, from the French, meaning "installation, consecration.” This in turn comes from the Latin, inaugurationem, from inaugurare "take omens from the flight of birds, consecrate or install when such omens are favorable." The root word is augurare, meaning "to act as an augur, predict.”

I don’t think we see much bird migration here in the D.C. area in late January, but maybe the light snowfall we had the day before the inauguration was a good omen ... snow always helps people see the world around them in a new light. (Full disclosure: I voted for John McCain but certainly appreciate the historic moment we had here this week and of course hope that President Obama will lead our nation where we need to go.)

Declaim, the seminal (there's a great word for ya) word for this post, does indeed mean the same as "proclaim." It hails from 1385, from the Latin declamare. Turns out, in etymology, "de" is an "intensifying prefix." ("Pro" as a prefix means "forth.") And the Latin clamare is "to cry, shout."

And finally, filial means "of, relating to, or befitting a son or daughter." It first appeared in Medieval French, 1393, and has roots in the Latin filialis, from filius, "son," and filia "daughter."

Tools of the Trade: Another I-Never-Quite-Knew-What-That-Word-Meant Edition

It's been too long since I've done a Tools of the Trade post, but today I'll make up for lost time with a Super-Sized Edition featuring not three ... not four ... but five (yes, count 'em, five) word origins!

But, that's not all! This special edition examines not only the origins of the five selected words, but also their definitions. That's right! Two lessons in one!

And so, without further ado, I present this week's words:

gainsay
toothsome
anomie
nonplussed
hebdomadally

Courtesy of the Online Etymology Dictionary, Dictionary.com and Merriam-Webster's Online, we discover the following:

Gainsay dates back to the 1300s and means "to contradict," or literally, to "say against," based on the Old English gegn- meaning "against." Apparently "gain" was once a common prefix, used in now-obsolete words such as gain-taking, "taking back again"; gainclap, "a counterstroke"; gainbuy, "redeem"; and gainstand, "to oppose."

Gainsay is the only surviving example of this prefix. As such, I am hereby lauching a campaign to promote its widespread usage to preserve gain's place in the English language. Unfortunately, my campaign stalled two seconds after I typed that last sentence, when my husband challenged me to use "gainsay" in a sentence and I could not think of a single way to use it. Well, except in that last sentence. It's a start. (Anyone? Anyone? Please leave your examples in the comments section so we can all begin using "gainsay" in casual conversation.)


In a hard-fought game of Cranium Wow! over the holidays, my husband and I (who did not win but who did not come in last either, ahem), were asked to define toothsome. This was a multiple-choice question, and we had it narrowed down to two choices ("attractive" or "having many teeth.") We picked the wrong one. [Slaps forehead.] As most of you probably already know, it means "attractive." Or, to be more specific, it means (1) pleasing to the taste; palatable; (2) pleasing or desirable, as fame or power; and (3) voluptuous; sexually alluring.

Dating back to 1551, It is taken from tooth (which evolved from the Middle English toth) and some. The origins are fascinating, no? No. Nor were they helpful to me in explaining why "toothsome" should mean "attractive." That is, until I looked further into the meaning of those two words. Turns out "some" is often used to create adjectives from nouns, as in "burdensome," "meddlesome" and "troublesome." And "tooth" ... if you dig way down to meaning #8 in the dictionary, can mean "taste, relish, or liking." Aha!


On his blog this week, my husband used the word anomie in describing himself. Having never encountered this word before and being eternally curious about my husband's self-image, I wasted no time looking this up. Dating to 1591, it is a French word meaning "absence of accepted social values." Its origins are the Greek a-, "without" and nomos, "law." Um. Yep, that's him.


Of the five words featured in this post, nonplussed is the only one I already knew, however tentatively. But the question of its meaning came up during a family gathering on Christmas Day, and it turned out I was the only one who knew its correct meaning (however tentatively). The noun "nonplus" dates back to 1582 and means "a state where nothing more can be done or said," from the Latin non plus, which means "no more, no further." The verb form dates back to 1591 and means "to bring to a nonplus, to perplex." Nonplussed? Me too.


Last and (IMO) least, is hebdomadally. Least because I can't imagine anyone ever using this word. But it came up in a crossword this week, and it stumped me. So, should you ever encounter hebdomadally in a crossword or perhaps at level 50 on the Free Rice site or while competing in Jeopardy, please be advised that it means "weekly." It hails from the Latin hebdomas, hebdomad-, the number seven, and from the Greek, hebdomos, seventh, related to hepta, seven.


One fun footnote: My research this time around brought me to a very cool discovery: Folk-Etymology: A Dictionary of Verbal Corruptions Or Words Perverted in Form or Meaning, by False Derivation or Mistaken Analogy, edited by the Rev. A. Smythe Palmer and published in 1882. A mixed blessing, as it turns out, because further research revealed that the best price available for it on Amazon is $60. So, I’ll have to live knowing there are at least seven copies of Palmer’s book out there that I can’t afford. Sigh.

Tools of the Trade: The I-Never-Quite-Knew-What-That-Word-Meant Edition

Thanks to Sam Riddleburger for his comment re: words he "skips over" when reading because he doesn't quite know what they mean. Sam's comment provided the inspiration for this post, in which I've researched a few words that have befuddled me in the past, and combined it with my Tools of the Trade feature exploring word origins. (Previous editions of TOTT can be found here.)

Today's words:
horripilation
mendacious
feckless

"Horripilation" is a great word for us mystery writers ... it basically means "goose bumps"! It comes from the Latin word horrere, meaning "stand on end" and pilus, "hair." The word "horrible" also comes from horrere (and I imagine "horror" must be related as well). So those words actually take their names from the physical reaction people have to them. Pretty cool. Bonus word origin ... the medical term for goose bumps is "cutis anserina." In Latin, cutis means "skin" and anser means "goose." Source: MedTerms.com.

The word "mendacious" first came to my attention two weeks ago, when Australian children's writer Jen McVeity used it during the SCBWI Mid-Atlantic Fall Conference. I had no earthly idea what Jen was talking about, so I wrote the word down and looked it up when I got home. According to Merriam-Webster Online, its definition is: "given to or characterized by deception or falsehood or divergence from absolute truth." According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, it hails from the Latin mendacium, "a lie," related to menda, "fault, defect, carelessness in writing."

"Feckless" is one of those words I've seen in print many times, and while I had some sense of its meaning, I was never quite sure. My husband asked about its meaning a couple of months ago, which finally prompted me to look it up. Someone or something who is feckless is "lacking purpose or vitality; feeble or ineffective; careless and irresponsible." It originates in the Scottish word feck, which is simply a shortened version of the word "effect."

Tools of the Trade III, II

With this post, I hereby retire this blog's "Tools of the Trade" feature.

In response to my post earlier this week on word origins, my husband and one of his political cronies inquired about the origins of four additional words:

Buffoon
Brouhaha
Irregardless
Wombat

Alas, not one of these rated an entry in my Dictionary of Word Origins by Joseph Shipley. I was reduced to relying on Google for assistance in the matter, which led to the discovery of a Web site dedicated entirely to word origins, the Online Etymology Dictionary. Seems rather silly for me to continue posting word origins when people can simply go to this site and look up any word they want. (Sigh.)

So, for my grand finale, the origins of the four requested words, as reported by the oh-so-thorough Online Etymology Dictionary:

"Buffoon" is from the French bouffon, which comes from the Italian buffone, meaning jester. This in turn is taken from the Italian word buffare, which means "to puff out the cheeks." Gotta love a culture that has a word meaning to puff out the cheeks!

"Brouhaha" is a French word which was used in medieval theater to describe "the cry of the devil disguised as clergy." This is believed to have been derived from the Hebrew phrase barukh habba', meaning "blessed be the one who comes." Not sure I understand the connection to today's meaning of the word, but there you have it.

"Irregardless" is a combination of the words "irritating" and "regardless," meaning those who use it to signify "regardless" are very irritating. OK, I made that up. According to the online etymology experts, the word is "probably a blend of irrespective and regardless, perhaps inspired by the double negative used as an emphatic." I like my definition better.

"Wombat" is taken from the aboriginal Australian words womback, and wombar. Check out a picture of the little guy below. (You won't find adorable graphics like this at the Online Etymology Dictionary, now will you?)



Update: Due to popular demand (see comments section), I have reconsidered my decision to retire this feature. Watch for "Tools of the Trade IV" to come soon to a blog near you!

Tools of the Trade III

If you missed the first two installments of my exploration of language via Joseph Shipley's Dictionary of Word Origins, you can find them here and here.

Today we will take a look at the origins of:

Ku Klux Klan
mystery
scintillate

"Ku Klux Klan" is related to the words "circle" and "cycle." It is taken from the Greek kuklose and kyklos, which mean circle. "Klan" is a bastardization of the word "clan," which has its origins in the Gaelic word clann. Despite its secretive nature, it is unrelated to "clandestine," which is derived from the Latin clandestinus. (And yes, I am a tad apprehensive about the Google hits I may get for having this term on my site!)

"Mystery" hails from the Greek word mysterion, referring to a secret religious ceremony, taken from myein, to close (lips and eyes), to initiate. A second meaning of the word, familiar perhaps to some Catholic or Episcopalian visitors, refers to the medieval plays depicting the life of Christ, which were called mysteries. In this case, the word came from the Latin words ministerium, the ministry, and magisterium which refers to the church's teaching authority.

"Scintillate" has at its root the Latin word scintilla, a spark. I found it interesting to note that "tinsel" also relates to this word. In French, the word etincelle, also derived from "scintilla" refers to sparkling goods.

As always, if anyone has an interesting word they'd like me to research, I'll be more than happy to oblige!

Tools of the Trade II

In which we examine the derivation of three words, care of the Dictionary of Word Origins by Joseph Shipley. (If you missed Tools of the Trade I, you can find it here.)

Where do you think these words came from?

Bizarre
Black
Eureka

“Bizarre” is taken from the French, Spanish and Portuguese bizarro, meaning handsome and brave. The Basque word bizarra meant beard, “as a sign of a swashbuckler.” Over time, the term shifted from dashing and courageous to its current connotations. (BTW, Shipley does not offer any information on the origins of the word “swashbuckler.” Such a great word! I’ll have to look it up and report on it someday in “Tools III.”)

“Black” is related to the French words blac and blanc and the English words blank, blanket, blanch and bleach. In other words, white! That is because people used to associate both black and white with the absence of color. Wild, eh?

“Eureka” is more than just a fun word to shout out (though it certainly is that). It comes from the Greek word heureka, which means found and also is related to the word heuretics, which is the logical art of discovery.

Tools of the Trade

Like most writers, I love words. I love learning about words: how they’re spelled, how they’re pronounced, what they mean and most of all, where they come from.

One of my favorite reference books is the Dictionary of Word Origins written by Joseph T. Shipley and published by the Philosophical Library in 1945. It is perhaps not the most practical book of its type for a writer of contemporary fiction, as it doesn't have words that originated in the past 60 years, and it does have some words that are not in use anymore or whose meanings have since changed. Still, I love to leaf through it and read Shipley's notes.

Here are a few cool entries (though, yes, at the time, “cool” just meant “chilly”). See if you can guess at the origins:

Cereal
Fiasco
Muscle

“Cereal” is taken from the name of the daughter of Saturn and Vesta. Ceres was the goddess of the harvest.

“Fiasco” is related to the word “flask.” When Venetian glassmakers messed up on one of their masterpieces, they would put the flawed glass aside to use to make bottles, or far fiasco. Fiasco came to represent failure.

“Muscle” is taken from the word musculum, which is the Latin diminutive of the word mus, which means … mouse! Apparently to the Romans, rippling muscles brought to mind little mice running around beneath the skin. Eww.

Do you know of any interesting word origins? Any you’d like me to look up for you? (I’ll be happy to!)