Gala throwaway / THU 11-21-24 / San Francisco organization supporting women in the arts / Classic sitcom streaming on Britbox, familiarly / On ice longer than normal, say? / Eponymous youth sports organization, the largest of its kind in the U.S. / Khan, former Pakistani prime minister / Informal green lights / N.B.A. player-turned-sports-analyst Rose / grazing (winter farm feeding strategy) / U.S. city named for a geological formation / Like some barrel-aged spirits

Thursday, November 21, 2024

Constructor: Katie Hoody

Relative difficulty: Medium (gimmick was simple, but overall cluing was tough) 


THEME: TOO LONG; DIDN'T READ (56A: Cheeky review of 18-, 24- and 46-Across) — long books ... that's (literally) it

Theme answers:
  • DAVID COPPERFIELD (18A: 1850: 350,000+ words)
  • LES MISERABLES (24A: 1862: 530,000+ words)
  • ATLAS SHRUGGED (46A: 1957: 550,000+ words)
Word of the Day: Madame Thénardier (38A: Thénardier and Bovary: Abbr. = MMES) —

The Thénardiers, commonly known as Monsieur Thénardier (/təˈnɑːrdi./French pronunciation: [tenaʁdje]) and Madame Thénardier, are fictional characters, and the secondary antagonists in Victor Hugo's 1862 novel Les Misérables and in many adaptations of the novel into other media.

They are unscrupulous working-class people who blame society for their sufferings. Early in the novel, they own an inn and cheat their customers. After they lose the inn in bankruptcy, they change their name to Jondrette and live by begging and petty thievery. They serve, alongside Javert, as one of the two arch-nemeses of the story's protagonist, Jean Valjean. While Javert represents the justice system that would punish Valjean, the Thénardiers represent the lawless subculture of society that would exploit him. The novel portrays them as shameless and abusive figures; some adaptations transform them into buffoonish characters, though sometimes still criminals, to provide comic relief from the generally more serious tone of the story. (wikipedia)

• • •

Wow. A puzzle for people who hate reading. And cats. I am ... neither of those people. The entire puzzle seems to exist so that the revealer can sneer at the idea of reading long books, which is to say, sneer at the idea of reading in general. You know what's TOO LONG and I wish I DIDN'T READ? That revealer. That "review" isn't "cheeky," it's idiotic. Nobody writes it out like that. It's TL;DR, and only TL;DR. Plus, are these books really so "long"? They don't strike me as iconically long. Not like War and Peace or Infinite Jest or, if you really want a doorstop, Clarissa (~950,000 words!). DAVID COPPERFIELD is just ... a novel by Dickens. I read it earlier this year. It's normal Dickens novel length—roughly the same length as [deep breath] Martin Chuzzlewit, Nicholas Nickleby, Bleak House, Little Dorritt, Dombey and Son, and Our Mutual Friend (all 340,000+ words). And while it's true that I have not read LES MISERABLES or ATLAS SHRUGGED, it ain't beause they're "TOO LONG," for god's sake. I don't demand Reverence of Literature from my crosswords, but this kind of shallow sneering nonsense can ... let's be unprofane and say "take a hike." Oh, is the book long? Is reading hard? Are you tired? Do you want a lollipop? Grow up. You don't have to read books if you don't want to, but your inability or unwillingness to read anything longer than a Tweet is a You problem. Don't blame the books. The books are exactly the length they're supposed to be. Also, if you're shouting "BAD KITTY!" at your actual kitten for any reason, let alone for the mere fact of "spilling milk," I'm taking your kitten away from you, asshole. Why are you giving the kitten milk, anyway? You clearly shouldn't own a cat. Give me the cat. You go manage your anger. Kitty and I are gonna curl up with a long book.


This puzzle is 16 wide, which may be one of the reasons it felt slow despite having a transparently easy theme. But mostly it felt slow because the cluing kept being paralyzingly vague. Occasionally there were names I just didn't know (like IMRAN) or terms I didn't know (BALE grazing?), but it was the vagueness that really slowed me down. Stuff like 37A: Tool for PATSY or 34D: Invoice unit for ITEM or 14D: Bolsters for AIDS (I had ADDS and PADS before AIDS). That PATSY / ITEM / JOISTS sections was sluggish for me, which made MISS SCARLET sluggish as well (again, a very vague clue—in "Clue" alone there are six "characters" (not counting "Mr. Boddy"), and anyway "classic whodunit" suggests book, not board game). Thank god for OAKY, which got me traction in that section, finally (33D: Like some barrel-aged spirits). I had some difficulty elsewhere as well. Getting from ["Stop with that!"] to "C'MON!" wasn't easy, especially considering that "M" was in IMRAN (a total mystery name) (42D: ___ Khan, former Pakistani prime minister). Had some trouble parsing "I MESSED UP" (35D: "That's on me"), in part because I kept wondering if the speaker was maybe offering to pay for something rather than owning up to a mistake. There's a "San Francisco organization supporting women in the arts"? Is anyone outside S.F. supposed to know this? Bizarre. And when did COALS become an acceptable plural? The gag Christmas gift is COAL. Uncountable noun. No "S." You might refer to "lumps of coal," but never COALS. Never COALS. Well, maybe if you’re getting raked over the COALS. I think the COALS have to be hot to be plural. As clued, COALS is about as absurd a plural as DADAS, which ... Oh look, they cross. Fun. 

[PATSY]

Some notes:
  • 53D: Informal green lights (AOKS) — my apologies to AOKS for leaving it out of the "absolutely terrible plurals" discussion, above
  • 35A: On ice longer than normal, say? (IN OT) — So ... this clue is so weird. In sports slang, if a game is "on ice," that means it's sewn up, won, over. But if the game is IN OT (in overtime), then obviously that's not the meaning that this clue is after. If the game in question is a championship game, perhaps there is champagne "on ice" back in the locker room waiting for the outcome ... but the champagne itself wouldn't be IN OT, so that makes no sense either. The only thing that makes sense is that the game in question is a hockey game, and so the players are literally "on ice" longer than they "normally" would be (in a regulation-length game). Or else it's something to do with the Old Testament and I am way, way off base.
  • 43A: Students run for it (GYM CLASS) — oof, the syntax here. Students run in GYM CLASS, yes. "For" ... you need a lawyer to make "for" OK. I thought this was some kind of CLASS office, like CLASS president or CLASS treasurer. That's probably the misunderstanding the clue was meant to provoke.
  • 8D: Eponymous youth sports organization, the largest of its kind in the U.S. (POP WARNER)— formally known as "POP WARNER Little Scholars"—like Little League, but for (American) football. 
  • 9D: Location within an office building: Abbr. (STE) — short for "suite"
  • 47D: Not a straight shot (SLICE) — this is golf. A non-straight shot is either a "hook" or a SLICE
  • 41D: N.B.A. player-turned-sports-analyst Rose (JALEN) — I was at Michigan when the Fab Five became famous, so JALEN was a gimme for me, but it seems like the kind of sports name that might flummox the (sizable) non-sportsy contingent of solvers.
  • 52D: Gala throwaway (CORE) — this one got me. Following [Theater throwaway] (STUB), it really got me. I assumed "Gala" was a party, and while you might throw your ticket STUB away after leaving the theater, I could not imagine what you might throw away after leaving a gala. I had COR- and still no idea because the cross was also baffling me. I was staring at B-STS for 62A: Records and ... nothing. BUSTS? Criminal "records" are made up of BUSTS? LOL, no. "Records" here are "top performances or most remarkable events," i.e. BESTS. And the [Gala throwaway] is a CORE. Because "Gala" is a variety of apple. Clearly I need coffee. So I'll stop here.
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

P.S: the tenth annual edition of the NYT's Puzzle Mania comes out on December 1. If you're not a dead-tree newspaper subscriber, you can now pre-order a copy of the puzzle extravaganza for yourself (for $7 + shipping). This is the holiday supplement that has tons of different puzzles in it, including (in previous years) a truly giant crossword puzzle, which you have to put on a large table or the floor to solve. Anyway, it's an event. And now you know how to get it if you want it.  

[Follow Rex Parker on Twitter and Facebook]

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Reef predator with extendable pharyngeal jaws / WED 11-20-24 / Dapper sartorial choices / Coloring implement since 1903 / Makeshift shield during a food fight / Comic strip with a collection titled "Shoes: Chocolate for the Feet"

Wednesday, November 20, 2024

Constructor: Robert S. Gard

Relative difficulty: Medium (Easy + whatever challenge is involved in discovering the gimmick)


THEME: SHRINK RAY (64A: Downsizer? ... or a hint to six squares in this puzzle) — a "RAY" rebus, where "RAY" must be "shrunk" to fit in a single square (six times):
Theme answers:
  • CRAYOLA CRAYON // MORAY EEL / SPRAY TAN (17A: Coloring implement since 1903 // 2D: Reef predator with extendable pharyngeal jaws / 6D: Artificial bronze)
  • PORTRAYALS // LUNCHTRAY (35A: Film representations // 10D: Makeshift shield during a food fight)
  • CRAY-CRAY // STRAY / GRAY AREAS (47A: Totally bonkers // 38D: Potential rescue pet / They're open to interpretation)
  • RAY-BAN // BRAYS (50A: Big name in sunglasses // 46D: Hee-haws)
Word of the Day: Zhou EN-LAI (19A: China's Zhou ___) —

Zhou Enlai (Chinese周恩来pinyinZhōu ĒnláiWade–GilesChou Ên-lai; 5 March 1898 – 8 January 1976) was a Chinese statesman, diplomat, and revolutionary who served as the inaugural premier of the People's Republic of China (PRC) from 1949 until his death in 1976, and concurrently as the inaugural Minister of Foreign Affairs from 1949 to 1958. Zhou was key figure in the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and ally of Mao Zedong during the Chinese Civil War, later helping consolidate its control, form its foreign policy, and develop the economy. (wikipedia)
• • •


A rebus on Wednesday. Did not see that coming. But then I did see it coming. Pretty quickly. Had the MO- at 2D: Reef predator with extendable pharyngeal jaws and thought "well that's MORAY ... but MORAY won't fit. MORAYS fits, but it's not a plural clue ... [gets first "E" from O'ER] ... if it ends "EEL," then ... wait, is it a "RAY" rebus?" And it was. 


The only questions now were "how many "RAY"s?" and "what's the revealer?" I guess there was some question about whether all the rebus squares would be "RAY," but since it's Wednesday (and not Thursday), I didn't think the puzzle had much trickiness or difficulty left to give. And it didn't. Just a bunch of scattered "RAY" squares, two thirds of which can be found in just two answers (CRAYOLA CRAYON and CRAY-CRAY). I wish the revealer had been more evocative or meaningful to me. I had RAY and no idea what could come before it. I haven't thought of a SHRINK RAY since ... I don't know when. Feels very mid-century comic book to me. How does Ant-Man shrink? I feel like it's not a RAY-based shrinkage, hang on ... oh right, Pym particles. According to an MCU fandom site, they're "subatomic particles that can increase or reduce mass as well as density and strength and are heavily used by Ant-Man and Wasp." When's the last time I saw anyone get shrunk with a ray? In The Incredible Shrinking Woman (1981), it's exposure to chemicals in an experimental perfume. In The Incredible Shrinking Man (1957), it's a "strange fog." I just went and looked up "SHRINK RAY" and it looks like it was popularized in the mid-20th century, primarily by the movie Fantastic Voyage, and then reiterated and parodied in various contexts over the years, including in Despicable Me and (multiple times?) in the Lilo & Stitch franchise. As I say, I'm familiar with the concept, but the phrase itself just didn't spring to mind. If you gave me "Shrink ___" (Password style), I'd say "WRAP." Anyway, yes, you shrink "RAY" in order to fill six squares—a very literal revealer.


The resulting "RAY" answers weren't very interesting in and of themselves, though, and the rest of the grid doesn't have a lot to offer as far as entertaining fill. Things get very choppy toward the middle and we get subjected to a lot of gunk, a lot of ABU PDQ QUA UAE gunk, a lot of NSFW CFOS TSA gunk. Looking it over now, though, I'd say the grid comes in pretty solid overall, especially for a puzzle with so much theme density. Since I picked up the rebus easily, the only trouble came from finding the "RAY" squares (not much trouble at all, actually, despite their being unpredictably located), and then finishing off the puzzle—i.e. picking up SHRINK, which was made somewhat harder than it might've been by the terrible cluing on the adjacent CANE. No one puts CANEs on their Christmas tree. Way too heavy, and anyway grandpa needs his CANE to get around; seems cruel to put it on the tree. The things that are on the tree are candy CANEs. No one says "CANE" without the "candy" part when they are talking about "candy CANEs." The [Christmas tree decoration] is, iconically and only, "candy CANE." CANE alone is garbage. I was like "... CONE?" Little decorative pine CONEs? Seemed plausible. More plausible than (non-candy) CANEs. Bah. That clue is CHUM (61D: Shark bait)


Further reading:
  • 25A: Comic strip with a collection titled "Shoes: Chocolate for the Feet" ("CATHY") — oh right, I forgot about her thing for chocolate. All I remember is her pathological obsession with her weight. And "ACK" (3), of course. 
  • 27A: "You should open this on a personal device" heads-up (NSFW) — this clue is just wrong. Plenty of people have "personal devices" on them at work. They might use them at work. NSFW stands for "not suitable for work." It's not the device, specifically, that's in question—it's where you're using it. Yes, don't open the porn site on a work computer, but mainly don't open it in a workplace environment
  • 43A: Parent working behind the scenes? (STAGE MOM) — this clue is extremely literal, so even though I see the "pun" you're trying to make there, with "scenes" being literal theater / movie "scenes," the clue really doesn't need a "?" at all.
  • 56A: Move to the beat? (PULSATE) — I don't think of pulsation as "movement." The blood is moving, the thing that is doing the pulsating isn't going anywhere.
  • 1D: Dapper sartorial choices (ASCOTS) — "Dapper," eh? I guess that's one word for it. Here's William Windom sporting an ascot in an episode of Love Boat that I watched recently—we're up to Season 6, and I said to my wife "we're gonna be done soon..." only to check and discover that it ran into a 10th season and there are actually close to 100 episodes left to go. I want to get off, I can't get off, I want to get off, I can't get off. The ship goes to Mazatlan, the ship returns to the Port of Los Angeles, the ship goes to Puerto Vallarta, the ship returns to the Port of Los Angeles. Like Gopher, Julie, Doc, Isaac, Merrill, and Vicki, I seem to be doomed to ride this thing forever (though if I remember correctly, I think Julie's time is gonna be up very shortly...). Sorry, here's the promised picture of William Windom in an ascot (of sorts):
  • 2D: Reef predator with extendable pharyngeal jaws (MORAY EEL) — there is one entertaining aspect of this puzzle, which is—it's very fun to say "extendable pharyngeal" over and over again. It's like something out of Gilbert & Sullivan: "In short, in matters vegetable, extendable, pharyngeal, / I am the very model of a model Major-General!"
  • 4D: Show on which Julia Louis-Dreyfus got her big break, in brief (S.N.L.) — Julia Louis-Dreyfus was one of two celebrity sightings I had this year (which I don't have a lot, as I live in Binghamton, NY). I stood behind her (and some of her family) in line for ice cream at an indoor food court in Santa Barbara this summer. That was in August. Earlier in the summer, on the way back from our Canadian vacation on the north shores of Lake ERIE, I saw Samantha Bee at a rest area in western New York. As you can see, I lead a thrilling life.
[Here's my ticket to the Binghamton Rumble Ponies' inaugural game against the ERIE SeaWolves (13D: Pennsylvania home of minor-league baseball's SeaWolves); see? thrilling life!]
  • 39D: Culture group (BACTERIA) — this clue is good. Nicely misdirective. Another highlight of the puzzle.
NOTE: the tenth annual edition of the NYT's Puzzle Mania comes out on December 1. If you're not a dead-tree newspaper subscriber, you can now pre-order a copy of the puzzle extravaganza for yourself (for $7 + shipping). This is the holiday supplement that has tons of different puzzles in it, including (in previous years) a truly giant crossword puzzle, which you have to put on a large table or the floor to solve. Anyway, it's an event. And now you know how to get it if you want it.

See you next time.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

[Follow Rex Parker on Twitter and Facebook]

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