scacchic
adj. pertaining to chess
Author: Greg Ross
The Right Words
After earning a Ph.D. in linguistics, Suzette Haden Elgin invented the language Láadan for a science fiction novel. What makes the language unique is that it’s designed particularly to express the perceptions of women:
- widazhad: to be pregnant late in term and eager for the end
- radiídin: a non-holiday, a holiday more work that it’s worth, a time allegedly a holiday but actually so much a burden because of work and preparations that it is a dreaded occasion; especially when there are too many guests and none of them help
- rathom: a “non-pillow,” one who lures another to trust and rely on them but has no intention of following through, a “lean on me so I can step aside and let you fall” person
- rathóo: a non-guest, someone who comes to visit knowing perfectly well that they are intruding and causing difficulty
- ramimelh: to refrain from asking, with evil intent; especially when it is clear that someone badly wants the other to ask
- bala: anger with reason, with someone to blame, which is not futile
- bina: anger with no reason, with no one to blame, which is not futile
- ab: love for one liked but not respected
- doóledosh: pain or loss which comes as a relief by virtue of ending the anticipation of its coming
One word that has no English equivalent is doroledim, which means “sublimation with food accompanied by guilt about that sublimation”: “Say you have an average woman. She has no control over her life. She has little or nothing in the way of a resource for being good to herself, even when it is necessary. She has family and animals and friends and associates that depend on her for sustenance of all kinds. She rarely has adequate sleep or rest; she has no time for herself, no space of her own, little or no money to buy things for herself, no opportunity to consider her own emotional needs. She is at the beck and call of others, because she has these responsibilities and obligations and does not choose to (or cannot) abandon them. For such a woman, the one and only thing she is likely to have a little control over for indulging her own self is FOOD. When such a woman overeats, the verb for that is ‘doroledim.’ (And then she feels guilty, because there are women whose children are starving and who do not have even THAT option for self-indulgence …)”
A full dictionary is here.
A Poet’s Proposal
I think I can offer this
simple remedy for a part
at least of the world’s
ills and evil I suggest
that everyone should be
required to change his
name every ten years I
think this would put a
stop to a whole lot of
ambition compulsion ego
and like breeders of dis-
cord and wasted motion.
— James Laughlin, quoted in the San Francisco Chronicle, Oct. 24, 1978
Togetherness
Brice Belisle’s 1997 patent application is admirably concise: “The invention relates to clothing for transporting and displaying small pets while worn by a person.”
The “pet display clothing” can accommodate mice, hamsters, gerbils, snakes, and “possibly even insects.” “Fluid wastes tend to gravitate to the pocket,” we note with some concern, but the whole contraption can be rinsed with a faucet.
So now you can visit your friends without leaving your pets — and without sacrificing style: “The vest could be provided with sleeves to form a coat or jacket and be of increased length to form an overcoat.”
“Eve’s Legend”
Henry Vassall-Fox, Lord Holland, contrived this jeu d’esprit in 1824 “on reading five Spanish Novels, each omitting throughout one vowel in the alphabet, and a sixth containing one vowel only”:
Men were never perfect; yet the three brethren Veres were ever esteemed, respected, revered, even when the rest, whether the select few, whether the mere herd, were left neglected.
The eldest’s vessels seek the deep, stem the element, get pence; the keen Peter, when free, wedded Hester Green,–the slender, stern, severe, erect Hester Green. The next, clever Ned, less dependent, wedded sweet Ellen Heber. Stephen, ere he met the gentle Eve, never felt tenderness; he kept kennels, bred steeds, rested where the deer fed, went where green trees, where fresh breezes greeted sleep. There he met the meek, the gentle Eve; she tended her sheep, she ever neglected self; she never heeded pelf, yet she heeded the shepherds even less. Nevertheless, her cheek reddened when she met Stephen; yet decent reserve, meek respect, tempered her speech, even when she shewed tenderness. Stephen felt the sweet effect: he felt he erred when he fled the sex, yet felt he defenceless when Eve seemed tender. She, he reflects, never deserved neglect; she never vented spleen; he esteems her gentleness, her endless deserts; he reverences her steps; he greets her:
‘Tell me whence these meek, these gentle sheep,–whence the yet meeker, the gentler shepherdess?’
‘Well bred, we were eke better fed, ere we went where reckless men seek fleeces. There we were fleeced. Need then rendered me shepherdess, need renders me sempstress. See me tend the sheep, see me sew the wretched shreds. Eve’s need preserves the steers, preserves the sheep; Eve’s needle mends her dresses, hems her sheets; Eve feeds the geese; Eve preserves the cheese.’
Her speech melted Stephen, yet he nevertheless esteems, reveres her. He bent the knee where her feet pressed the green; he blessed, he begged, he pressed her.
‘Sweet, sweet Eve, let me wed thee; be led where Hester Green, where Ellen Heber, where the brethren Vere dwell. Free cheer greets thee there; Ellen’s glees sweeten the refreshment; there severer Hester’s decent reserve checks heedless jests. Be led there, sweet Eve!”
“Never! we well remember the Seer. We went where he dwells — we entered the cell — we begged the decree,–
Where, whenever, when, ’twere well
Eve be wedded? Eld Seer, tell.He rendered the decree; see here the sentence decreed!” Then she presented Stephen the Seer’s decree. The verses were these:
Ere the green reed be red,
Sweet Eve, be never wed;
Ere be green the red cheek,
Never wed thee, Eve meek.The terms perplexed Stephen, yet he jeered the terms; he resented the senseless credence, ‘Seers never err.’ Then he repented, knelt, wheedled, wept. Eve sees Stephen kneel; she relents, yet frets when she remembers the Seer’s decree. Her dress redeems her. These were the events:
Her well-kempt tresses fell; sedges, reeds, bedecked them. The reeds fell, the edges met her cheeks; her cheeks bled. She presses the green sedge where her cheek bleeds. Red then bedewed the green reed, the green reed then speckled her red cheek. The red cheek seems green, the green reed seems red. These were e’en the terms the Eld Seer decreed Stephen Vere.
Here endeth the Legend.
He added an epigraph:
Much trouble it costs to pen stories like these —
Quoth a punster, “How so? they are written with Es.”
The Paradox of the Divided Stick
Take a whole stick and cut it in half. Half a minute later, cut each half in half. A quarter of a minute after that, cut each quarter in half, and so on ad infinitum.
What will remain at the end of a minute? An infinite number of infinitely thin pieces? Writes Oxford philosopher A.W. Moore, “Do we so much as understand this?”
Does each piece have any width? If so, couldn’t we reassemble them to form an infinitely long stick? If not, how can we assemble them to form anything at all?
Sure Thing, Boss
I cannot omit a rather childish story which Vasari tells about the David. After it had been placed upon its pedestal before the palace, and while the scaffolding was still there, Piero Soderini, who loved and admired Michelangelo, told him that he thought the nose too large. The sculptor immediately ran up the ladder till he reached a point upon the level of the giant’s shoulder. He then took his hammer and chisel, and, having concealed some dust of marble in the hollow of his hand, pretended to work off a portion from the surface of the nose. In reality he left it as he found it; but Soderini, seeing the marble dust fall scattering through the air, thought that his hint had been taken. When, therefore, Michelangelo called down to him, ‘Look at it now!’ Soderini shouted up in reply, ‘I am far more pleased with it; you have given life to the statue.’
— John Addington Symonds, The Life of Michelangelo Buonarroti, 1893
Black and White
By Sam Loyd. White to mate in two moves.
A Man of Few Words
In 1930 linguistic psychologist Charles K. Ogden offered the world Basic English, an international language that stripped conventional English down to 850 words:
Seven and eighty years have gone by from the day when our fathers gave to this land a new nation — a nation which came to birth in the thought that all men are free, a nation given up to the idea that all men are equal.
The movement reached its greatest popularity shortly after World War II, when Ogden promoted it in support of world peace; Winston Churchill thought it might promote an empire of the pen rather than the sword. But FDR pointed out that his friend’s “blood, toil, tears, and sweat” would be reduced to “blood, work, eye water, and face water” in the language’s ruthlessly simplified vocabulary, and in 1945 the BBC suggested that Basic English be left “on a high shelf in a dark corner.” Ogden passed away 12 years later.
Carry-Out
The small spaniel shown in the photograph is the heroine of a remarkable aerial adventure. The dog belongs to Wm. Marshman, who has a ranch on Cow Creek, near Encampment, Wyoming. Marshman happened to be in the barn while the dog was running in the pasture close by. On coming out of the barn a little later he saw a large bald eagle swoop down upon the spaniel, seize her with beak and talons, and ascend slowly into the air. He went to the house and returned with his rifle, and by this time the eagle had ascended about one hundred feet, but the dog becoming quite heavy and struggling continually caused the eagle to gradually descend until he came within twenty feet from the ground. A hasty shot from the rifle caused the eagle to drop the dog and soar away before Marshman could get within range for a telling shot. The dog was considerably lacerated by the beak and talons of the eagle, and the bald spot on her head is one of the scars.
— Strand, July 1906