Favourite Words

[AndyM]

Paradigmatic has both of the uses mentioned above these days. And yes, it does get over-used.

Quintessential, however, is a word one almost never hears today in academia, as I suspect it sounds like it would only be uttered by men in cravats. And even floppy hats.

One of my favourite words, with no connection to the above, is chthonic.

[Hugh Weldon]

Diththyramb

Coruscate

Pustule

[Philellinas]

... chthonic.

Be careful how you say it. In comparison its cousin "autochthonous" rolls off the tongue. That "chth" combination is a winner.

[AndyM]

... chthonic.

Be careful how you say it. In comparison its cousin "autochthonous" rolls off the tongue. That "chth" combination is a winner.

I tend to drop the 'h' after the 'c' but pronounce the 'h' after the 't', ending in somerthing like "ker-thonic", though the 'ker' is shorter than an entire syllable.

it always makes me think of H.P.Lovercraft's Cthulhu.

[kas]

it always makes me think of H.P.Lovercraft's Cthulhu.

Somehow it does fall into that category... Did you know, by the way, that there is a Taiwanese black metal band called ChtChonic? (it is my guess that there is a black metal band for every cryptic and ominous sounding word in the vocabulary...)

Somehow from all this (and that likeable Lovecraft fellow) arises my favourite word of the day: Azathoth.

Not as tough on the tongue as the previous entries, but a fictional deity also known as "Blind Idiot God" must have its uses...

[Rob Hall]

Shibboleth, though I've never been sure how it's supposed to be pronounced.

[AndyM]

I'd emphasis the 'shib', but I might be wrong.

Re. Lovecraft, apparently there is a whole slew of bands using his character names & writing lyrics based on his stories. Funy old world.

[Pete Fowler]

I love the word withershins – its original meaning, an Icelandic word that came into Anglo Saxon, was anti-clockwise; but it became, in the nineteenth century, a more general term, a kind of going against the grain.

I know it from Yeats:

The intellectual sweetness of those lines
That cut through time or cross it withershins

Coole Park, 1929

Incidentally, Yeats is one of those who you can look back at and shy away from, all that aristocratic fawning and more than dubious politics; but the beauty of his words simply transcends the objections. And he becomes magnetic and illuminating….

[Hugh Weldon]

Nice one Pete, though I prefer the spelling 'widdershins'.

Which sounds very northern for some reason, though maybe I'm getting mixed up with 'witchet' (Lancashire for wet feet, or 'wetshod') or something else that begins with 'w'.

Endorse what you say about Yeats. There may be an argument to be had about greatest songwriter of 20C, but Yeats pre-eminent poet in English I think (though someone may wish to argue...?)

[Des]

Much as I love Yeats, I think Mr Eliot can give him a good run for his money (and even Mr Hughes on a good day).

[Pete Fowler]

Staying on the poetic theme, windhover is one hell of a word, a perfect description of the kestrel, and a word that fits its subject much better than the one we now use.

On Yeats: I never read him when young and it was probably listening to 1980s Van Morrison tracks that made me read him. And I find the pair of them curiously complementary – Van clearly sees himself as from the same mould, but his musical form, the 60s and 70s take on his teenage idols, his transformation of the tunes he played as a Down sax player, plays on the simplest of language but to the maximum of emotional effect. Think of Coney Island or Way Back. Enveloping, in the spoken poem, a romantic attachment to the past represented in the lushest, almost cloying, instrumentation, which acts as a stunning counter to the stresses he places on his working class regional accent – or, in Way Back, as a seemingly endless repeat of the same words, interspersed with what can only be described as stabs in the heart from his almost ridiculous, but somehow compelling, guitar playing.

He often goes beyond words – which is what great songs do, because they exist within the holistic musical environment that defines the genre – and his ‘words’ (like Dylan’s) can look paper-thin, or cringifyingly pretentious, when simply presented on a page.

But his painting of his Belfast background is as vivid to me, but in this different form, as Yeats’s take on Sligo and Clare. And this is what binds them: Yeats is nothing but words; Van cannot touch his hero in this respect, but he can still move me equally, but from this different perspective. They both give us wonderful evocations of landscape.

And I thank Van for alerting me to Mr Yeats. Just as I thank Dylan for making me look at Eliot.

And how I got onto that from the windhover is another mystery; and apologies if I’ve broken a thread, I was always useless at sticking to straight lines.

[Des]

Talking of Falco tinnunculus, I'm reminded of the incomparable Gerard:

The Windhover: To Christ Our Lord

I caught this morning morning's minion, king-
dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird -- the achieve of; the mastery of the thing!

Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!

No wonder of it: shéer plód makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermillion.


Gerard Manley Hopkins

[Hugh Weldon]

Thanks for that Des, Eliot said something to the effect of 'great poetry communicates before it's understood' and I think this poem is a good example. Could you begin to explain those final three lines for example? But you know it's good.

[AndyM]

Not exactly an explanation, but I think part of the meaning is "if I wasn't so screwed up and let myself have some fun with the blokes that I fancy, I wouldn't have this deranged messed-up self-torturing mind in my head prompting me to splurge out these crazy but beautiful word patterns". All in all, he's one of the few good arguments in favour of repressed Catholic guilt.

[Ted]

Chronotransduction.

I'm pretty sure Carla Bley made this up.