Grace Tierney's Blog, page 25

The Origin of the Elrond’s Last Homely House in Rivendell

Hello,

Friend of the blog, Rick Ellrod, posed a Tolkien-related word question recently. “We use homely typically to refer to someone who’s a little worse than plain-looking, without being actually ugly.  But then there’s Tolkien’s rather mysterious phrase about how Elrond’s place in Rivendell is “the Last Homely House East of the Sea.”  Clearly he doesn’t mean it’s not good-looking.”

I’ll come back to Rivendell in a moment but first to homely. It has, as Rick guessed, two distinct but related meanings. The first is that of being like home. In fact you might have used homish in the 1500s or homelike in the 1700s for the same meaning. Homely’s first meaning is that one – something domestic, belonging to the home. It dates to the 1300s and comes from the older Middle English word hom (home), and before that Old English ham (you’ll find that in the word hamlet for village), and ultimately from the Proto Germanic word haimaz (home). With time, homely became a way to describe something as being simple and unadorned, like most homes of that time.

By the end of the 1400s homely had picked up a variation of its meaning where that simplicity and lack of adornment twisted slightly to imply the thing was without beauty and perhaps roughly or crudely made. This is unfair as any good crafter or artist will tell you there is true skill in making something so simply that is it beautiful. In North America, particularly New England, this new meaning of homely was extended to describe people who were ill-tempered or ugly. You’ll find it in some English novels of the 1800s, typically describing plain women who were unlikely to marry well as a result of their appearance, but it’s not used often nowadays on this side of the Atlantic.

The homely peace of blue bells in the woods

As for Rivendell and the Last Homely House, I was lucky enough to find an excellent and very detailed source of information on this topic at the Tolkien Gateway. It explains, which I remembered from the books, that the elven outpost of Rivendell was founded as a refuge. Elrond’s house itself was called the Last Homely House East of the Sea because it was the last friendly place before you entered the wilder spaces of the Misty Mountains and beyond. The elves themselves came from west of the sea, so in a way the name was the directions, the address if you will. The name Rivendell referred to its position in a deep river gorge. They also added a piece of information I hadn’t stumbled upon before.

There is some information in a letter by Tolkien about the source of his inspiration for Rivendell. He visited a place called Lauterbrunnen, in Switzerland in 1911, a few years before his experiences as an officer in the British army in World War I. He was only 19 years old at the time but he later wrote “I am … delighted that you have made the acquaintance of Switzerland, and of the very part that I once knew best and which had the deepest effect on me. The hobbit’s journey from Rivendell to the other side of the Misty Mountains, including the glissade down the slithering stones into the pine woods, is based on my adventures in 1911.”

It seems reasonable to me that when, after the war, he wrote of a place of utter peace and homely tranquility beside high mountain peaks that he might think back to his adventures hiking and camping in the steep Swiss valleys.

Recently I’ve been editing “Words the Vikings Gave Us” (my third word history book, due out later this year, watch this space) and you’ll be glad to hear that Tolkien pops up there thanks to his use of Icelandic sagas as source material and inspiration. I also managed to squeeze in attercop as one of the words (fans of “The Hobbit” will know what I mean). However this month I’m busy taking part in CampNaNoWriMo (the more casual writing event held in April and July, also under the National Novel Writing Month umbrella) – up to 11,028 words written so far.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

How the Word Profanity Began Outside the Temple

Hello,

This week I finally finished watching “The History of Swearing” on Netflix. My family are neither Nicholas Cage nor etymology fans so I squeezed in episodes when they were in bed. It’s a short series with brief, well-edited episodes exploring a handful of popular curse-words with help from lexicographers and comedians. I knew most of them already thanks to a dictionary of invective I read years ago and seem to have since lost. One expert mentioned that profanity comes from the idea of something being outside the temple and that caught my interest.

There are three related words to investigate on this front. To profane (the verb, to desecrate something), profane (the adjective, something is unholy), and profanity (noun, foul or profane language or conduct). In recent times I suspect most of us would use the words with the idea of morally suspect or offensive language, but this one started firmly in the idea of being holy, or not and yes, it does all start outside the temple.

Chapel ceiling in Christchurch cathedral, Dublin

The first of the three to arrive in English is profane, the verb. It described treating holy things without reverence from the late 1300s and came via Old French profaner from Latain profanare and profanus (unholy or not consecrated). That’s pretty clear.

Next up is profane being used as an adjective and that arose in the mid 1400s (the exact same roots). The idea of person being profane encompassed the idea of them being not initiated, ignorant, wicked, and impious. I can only assume the idea was the you only want the clergy and those in religious orders to deal with sacred objects and rites. According to one source (Lewis & Short, de Vaan) profane acquired this use thanks to the phrase pro fano which translates as “out at the front of the temple” with the idea that religious trainees and the general public wouldn’t be allowed into the temple itself. I’m not certain this is the main root of the word, but it does have a certain logic in the preChristian era as some faiths would only allow the priesthood class to enter the temple or sacred space. This isn’t really the case in most Christian churches though now, or back in the 1300s.

By the 1550s profane had acquired the meaning of being irreverent towards God or hold objects. Then by around 1600 we finally get the word profanity arrived into English (same roots) and it gains the secondary meaning which is the main one today – foul language. This is thanks to the Old Testament part of the Bible which advises against profaning or taking the Lord’s name in vain.

Although profane and profanity are fairly old English words, and swearing is older still, it’s interesting to find that the word profanity was only rarely used before the 1800s. I guess it took the sometimes strict and judgemental Victorian era to label the terrible crime of swearing.

Until next time, happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

Double-dealing Dutch Gave Us the Word Foist

Hello,

This week’s word is foist. I came across this one while browsing a dictionary and loved its back-story. Yes, flicking through the dictionary is something I do sometimes. Sad, I know.

Foist is a verb meaning to impose an unwanted person or thing upon somebody. For example, my mother enjoys foisting old baking tins and mismatched tea-cups on me when she is spring-cleaning. Yes, you could say dump instead, but let’s be honest, foist is more fun to say and of course is a handy rhyme for moist if you’re a poet, and hoist. Dare you to write a poem using those three.

Foist entered the English dictionary in the mid 1500s from the Dutch word vuisten (take in hand) which comes from Middle Dutch vuist (fist). So where does the idea of foisting being an unwelcome imposition arise?

A selection of dice

When foist arrived it was in a very particular context – gambling using dice. The idea was that an unscrupulous player would conceal a loaded die (e.g. one whose result was predictable thanks to internal weights) in the palm of their hand. When the loaded die could give them a win they would introduce it surreptitiously into play, thus tricking their opponents into yielding the win to them. Foisting as a way of winning via trickery was its core meaning.

I shall have to explain all this to my mother the next time she attempts to foist a broken toaster upon me. Or a pair of dutch dice.

Until next time, happy reading, writing, and wordfooling

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

Yearning for a Plethora of Hugs

Plethora is one of my favourite words and I use it often. It’s about time I explored its origins, but to do that here on the blog I need an illustration. Luckily the plethora of teddies in my home decided to help me out on that front by gathering on the reading chair in my kitchen and posing, ready to deliver hugs.

A plethora of hugs from Teddy Central

Hug deliveries have been in short supply over the last year, for obvious reasons, and every time I read somebody online missing an aspect of their life such as a round of golf, browsing in bookshops, or traveling I only have one thought – hugs. I need a plethora of hugs from friends and family and even a chair-full of fluffy teddies isn’t a good substitute.

What is a plethora anyhow? It’s an abundance or profusion. You could have a plethora of cocktails, firemen, balls of yarn, or bluebells in a dappled woodland. It’s such a handy word. You can even use plethoric as an adjective, but it’s not common.

Plethora joined the English language in the mid 1500s as a medical term for an excess of body fluid or blood which might be indicated by swelling or a red complexion. It arrived via Late Latin (same spelling and use) and ultimately from Greek plethore (fullness) and plethein (to be full). The non-medical use of plethora to denote too much or overfulness arrived by 1700 and has been with us ever since.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and a plethora of wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

The Eponym Series – Celsius

Hello,

Every writer who has submitted their work for publication, or even feedback and critique, knows the feeling. You press send, or drop the letter in the postbox (or mailbox), and then realise you’ve missed a comma, split an infinitive, or messed up in some way. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve edited the piece, although of course that helps enormously and there are great tricks like reading it aloud, or backwards (yes really) which reduce the issue. It doesn’t matter how experienced you are. Something will be wrong. Some silly thing will have been missed. I know my writing isn’t perfect every time, or even most of the time. To err is human, and all that.

So when I wrote the Modern Vikings chapter in “Words The Vikings Gave Us” (my next word history book, due out later this year) I groaned upon discovering that the word celsius is eponymous. It’s not like I spent three years writing about and researching the people behind the eponyms in the English language. Or that I published a book on the subject which had a science chapter where celsius would have fitted perfectly.

Ah well. I may include it in a second edition one day, but in the meantime here’s the story of celsius and the man who gave us the most widely-used temperature scale in the world.

The Swedish astronomer Anders Celsius (1701-1744) invented the centigrade temperature scale in 1742. The Celsius scale, as it was renamed in 1948 in his honour, is used to measure temperatures in all countries except the United States, Bahamas, Belize, Cayman Islands, and Liberia. Its previous name, centigrade, was rooted in Latin – centum (a hundred) and gradus (steps).

The celsius scale is based on the freezing and boiling points for water – 0 degrees for freezing and 100 for boiling. Hence a warm summer day might be 20-35 degrees depending on your location and anything below zero will be literally “freezing outside”.

Celsius was best-known for his astronomy work but he was also a noted mathematician and physicist whose father and grandfather were renowned scientists. He was the first to notice a relationship between the aurora borealis and the Earth’s magnetic field, for example.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

Interested in eponyms like celsius? I’ve written a book about nearly 300 of them and the lives of the fascinating people who gave their name to English. “How To Get Your Name In The Dictionary” is out now in Amazon paperback (USA and UK), and ebook for Kindle,, and on .

Note: If you order through the affiliate links in this post, a tiny fee is paid towards supporting this blog.

Apgar – the Woman Who Changed Small Lives

Hello and Happy International Women’s Day,

Recently I was asked to write a short piece about an under-appreciated woman for today and two names sprang to mind, thanks to my book “How to Get Your Name In The Dictionary” (exploring the extraordinary lives of people who gave their names to the English language as words) – Apgar and Montessori. They both made the world a better place and despite using their names in the past, before writing the book I had no idea they were women.

As it transpired I needed to write about an Irish woman for the short piece and I chose Anna Catherine Parnell (1852-1911), the younger sister of Charles Stewart Parnell who, along with other women at a time when women weren’t expected to be political, kept his Land League movement going while he was in jail. Once he was released he insisted she step back and she never forgave him.

So, in honour of the day, here is Apgar’s story from my book. If you’ve ever been a parent you will have heard your offspring being given an apgar score at birth, now you’ll know who to thank. Like Plimsoll’s overloading line on ship hulls and Heimlich’s anti-choking move, the apgar score has saved many lives and the woman behind it deserves to be celebrated.

Apgar Score (extract from “How To Get Your Name In The Dictionary”, copyright Grace Tierney}

The apgar score was invented by Virginia Apgar (1909-1974) in 1952. She was an American pediatrician who as a young anesthetist saved many newborns with earlier interventions as a result of this scoring system for a newborn’s adjustment to life outside the womb.

Apgar wanted to be doctor from a young age and with the help of several scholarships became the first female full professor at Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons. She specialised in anesthesia at a time when it was barely respected and the pay was low.

When she studied the effects of anesthesia on mothers in labour she made her greatest contribution to the field – a standard method to assess the newborn on heart rate, respiratory effort, muscle tone, reflex response, and colour. After some resistance the scoring system was adopted for use at one minute after birth and again at five minutes.

In 1959, while on sabbatical, she earned her masters in public health from John Hopkins and devoted the rest of her career to prevention of birth defects through public education and research fundraising. She received many honours for her work.

Despite breaking into many areas previously seen as male-only in an era long before feminism, she maintained that “women are liberated from the time they leave the womb”.

Not content with a hectic scientific career she also learned how to make musical instruments,  was a talented chamber quartet musician, an enthusiastic fly-fisherwoman, and an amateur pilot.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. this post contains affiliate links which make a small payment to the blog if you choose to purchase through them. #CommissionsEarned. Alternatively, you can use my digital tip jar.

 

The History of Griffonage and Bad Handwriting

Hello,

This week’s word is griffonage, perhaps one you haven’t stumbled across before. The Merriam Webster dictionary informs me that griffonage is careless handwriting, a crude or illegible scrawl. Those who know me well are smiling at this definition as I have famously poor penmanship (penwomanship?). My school-teachers despaired. One poor woman spent nearly two years trying to get me to improve my r (looks like v), h (looks like r), and e (looks like i). I hope she has recovered from the experience in the years since.

Wordfoolery’s writing

At university it deteriorated further thanks to taking notes at top-speed during lectures (no, laptaps hadn’t been invented yet, I’m that old). Now probably only my oldest friends can decipher my scrawl, my children and husband certainly can’t. Luckily I taught myself to type when I was eleven and handwriting is rarely needed now. My former teacher would laugh, bitterly, if she knew I sometimes now play with calligraphy.

Griffonage isn’t popular enough to merit an entry in all the dictionaries, but Merriam Webster helps out again with the etymology and yes it does have a link to the mythical beast, the griphon. A griphon was a mythical creature from Greek legends which had the head and wings of an eagle paired with the body and hind quarters of a lion. It was believed to live at Scythia and guard a horde of gold. The word gives us Old French grifon (bird of prey) and it entered English around 1200. The griphon was named for its hooked beak in Greek.

Griffonage entered English from French griffonner (to scribble or scrawl). It had evolved from Middle French grifouner (to scribble) from griffon (stylus) and -age (act of, e.g. sabotage). Griffon itself has roots in griffe (claw) which links the word to the clawed griphon of mythology, who clearly had worse handwriting than I have, but with better excuse. Holding a pen with a claw cannot be easy.

Another word for griffonage is cacography – a word I explored back in 2016.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@wordfoolery)

 

The Curious Link between Leaves and Libraries

Hello,

Today I’m thinking about the expression to take a leaf out of somebody’s book. I’ve always assumed it refers to a leaf as being a page, rather than a green little leaf, but now I’m not entirely sure and it all comes back to libraries which seems appropriate as we’re only three sleeps away from the first Ireland Reads Day (25th of Feb 2021).

Library at Russborough House, Ireland

A library as a space for a collection of books entered English in the late 1300s, long before the invention of a printing press, back when books were hand-copied. The word came from Old French librarie (a collection of books or a bookseller’s shop) and before that from various forms in Latin most of which boil down to librarium (a chest for books). I wish I had a book chest, although I do already have enough stuffed bookcases to call my home a library.

The source of librarium is where we wander from the bookshop into the forest. Librarium comes from liber (book, paper, parchment). The word originally described the inner bark of trees or leaves. Several other languages  (Albaian, Latvian, Russian) have similar words with the same root – all linking books with leaves and tree bark which to my mind suggests early writings were often made on such materials.

Libraries would be greener spaces if our stories were written down on leaves and bark, but I’m glad we developed paper, and digital books, to ensure the longevity of books. Sadly, many libraries are currently closed and yet every librarian I know is still working behind the scenes providing digital services like ebook and audiobook borrowing, sourcing new stock, recording video story-times for children, promoting Ireland Reads Day, and where possible cleaning down books for Click and Collect services. Days like these remind us that stories get us through and that comfort reading is vital (and calorie-free!).

Until next time, happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery and Reading Ambassador for Ireland Reads and Louth Libraries)

Seven Fun Ways Back Into Reading

Hello,

As a Reading Ambassador for Ireland Reads I’ve been thinking about how many of us were readers in the past but may need help to get back into it. Of course Ireland Reads Day is the perfect excuse but here are seven ways to have fun along the way. I hope they help.

Remember When Reading Was This Much Fun?

Read a Book You Used to LOVE

Most of us have a book we adored when we were younger. Perhaps you made your parent read it over and over at bedtime, or it made a huge impression on you. Mine was “The Hobbit” by JRR Tolkien (long story, coming soon to another blog). Have you read it recently? It will be easy to read as you already know the ending plus you are likely to have a different perspective now.

The Book vs. Movie Game

I must give credit for this one to my son, who created it, aged 12, to while away the time on long hikes. Players take turns to choose two titles – one book, one movie. Then everybody debates which was better. Adapt as you wish. We usually pick two in the same genre as comparing “Anne of Green Gables” to a gruesome thriller feels odd, but it might work for you. Ideally played with people who share a TV/cinema with you regularly so you know what they’ve read/watched. For example, “Skullduggery Pleasant” book series vs. “Hunger Games” movies – discuss!

Lucky Dip

Ask a reader friend to pick a book for you (or ask a bookseller/librarian) based on what they know you already enjoy, or simply a book they adore and want to share with the world. No excuses, go read it. Friends will only recommend something good. Plus you get to chat about it later, and perhaps return the favour.

Join a Book Club

They may not be meeting in person at the moment but they’re still out there. I’m a long-time member of the Rick O’Shea Book Club (ROSBC to its friends) on Facebook and he’s a Reading Ambassador too. With 35,000 members there’s always somebody about who has loved/hated the book you’re reading or who can recommend which one to read next. He nominated two books each month to read and there’s discussion afterwards but I’ve only managed this once!

Many libraries and bookshops also run bookclubs (online currently) or start your own.

Parent-Child Readalongs

If your child is under ten you may be reading the same book anyhow at bedtime. If not, have you considered reading the same book as them? This has the side benefit of encouraging your child to keep reading, but it will also introduce you to new authors (I found Derek Landy and Robin Stevens this way) and it’s likely your child will want to discuss the book with you and anything that fosters communication is good. Note, this also works when the child is an adult. I often read the same thrillers as my Dad when he was in his seventies and we had great book chats together.

Try an Audiobook

You can still borrow these from your local library, even during restrictions. Personally audiobooks put me to sleep, but others swear by them and they do enable you to #Squeezeinaread while driving/walking/queuing etc. Perfect if you have any sight or reading issues and many are narrated by wonderful actors.

A Friendly Book Swap Circle

Reading may be a solitary pursuit but it doesn’t have to be lonely. Setup a book swap with one or more friends (or family). Each lends one book (one they love) to the next person on the circle. Set a time frame (a month sounds good) and then the books move onto the next person. You’re sharing a story you loved and probably reading some amazing books. This can be done via post, or if you’re near enough, via drop on the doorstep (if raining, wrap the book!). You can phone/email/zoom later to chat about the books. Please ensure the beloved books return to the lenders at the end of the cycle.

Now that you know how to get back into reading the next step is to pledge to join in on Ireland Reads day, the 25th of February and to choose a book. Perhaps encourage a friend or loved one to join in too?

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

Adoxography, a Rare Publishing Word

Hello,

This week’s word is another writing term, in honour of the first Ireland Reads day (if you haven’t pledged to read yet, click here). Adoxography is a word I gathered somewhere online, possibly from one of those beautiful word pins on pinterest which look pretty but give no information. I tucked it away for later exploration and today is the day.

Adoxography is “elegant or refined writing which addresses a trivial or base subject”. That definition is from Wikipedia, by the way, which wouldn’t be my favourite source for such things and rather worryingly adoxography is not present in the Merriam Webster or the Oxford English Dictionary.

Wikipedia also adds that the word was coined in the 1800s. Note that date, we’ll be coming back to it.

The Fine Dictionary says “Elizabethan schoolboys were taught adoxography, the art of eruditely praising worthless things” and “adoxography is particularly useful to lawyers”. Those quote marks are theirs and are not attributed to anybody. Also, how can adoxography be coined in the 1800s if schoolboys in the 1500s were already doing it?

The ever-reliable Etymology Online doesn’t list adoxography (another red flag) but I did find one etymology listing online, at wiktionary.org and it goes like this – adoxography is compounded from New Latin adoxus (absurd, paradoxical) and graphy from the ancient Greek graphia (writing). I’m the first to admit that I’m not a professional linguistics researcher but I’ve been exploring words for more than a decade now and it is rare to find one formed like that (New Latin and Ancient Greek didn’t exist at the same time, did they?) and any link to schoolboys can be a hint that bored schoolboys decided to invent a word using their rudimentary classics knowledge, for a laugh. The main references for this one (and I’m happy to be corrected, comment below if you know of a mainstream reference) are in crowd-sourced online venues which can be exploited and on word blogs whose authors are as confused as Wordfoolery.

Verdict? I think this isn’t a real word. I do, however, like the idea of fancy writing on a trivial topic (“Ode to a Broken Matchstick”, perhaps?). We may need to help adoxography become real, what do you think?

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. don’t forget to #SqueezeInARead this month and on the 25th. Any excuse to dive into a good book! I’ve just finished “Hamnet” by Maggie Farrell and have moved onto “Manx Tales” by S. Morrison. What are you reading this month? If you’re a Goodreads member feel free to friend/follow me there. I try to follow back and I review everything I read.