Relative difficulty: Challenging (possibly, I dunno; felt way harder than most Fridays, to me, but all puzzles have been so easy lately that maybe this was just Medium)
THEME: none
Word of the Day: ARTURO Schomberg (30A: Historian Schomberg of the Harlem Renaissance) —
Arturo Alfonso Schomburg (January 24, 1874 – June 10, 1938), was a historian writer, collector, and activist. Schomburg was a Puerto Rican of African and German descent. He moved to the United States in 1891, where he researched and raised awareness of the contributions that Afro-Latin Americans and African Americans have made to society. He was an important intellectual figure in the Harlem Renaissance. Over the years, he collected literature, art, slave narratives, and other materials of African history, which were purchased to become the basis of the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, named in his honor, at the New York Public Library (NYPL) branch in Harlem. (wikipedia)
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I am in no condition to write clearly or fairly about this puzzle, as my morning has been a complete disaster. The cat has complicated new meds which just arrived yesterday, and there are glass bottles, and cheap syringes that I can't read or wield easily, and viscous liquids, and just a whole lot of fussiness involved. "Shoot the liquid into your cat's cheek," like LOL am I supposed to grow a third hand? Anyway, it was weirdly traumatic all around. So traumatic that I just abandoned all cat-feeding plans and went straight into my office to solve and write. There, I discovered ... non-operative internet! The indicator lights all looked good, but ... nothing. So I rebooted the modem and that worked ... for a while! Long enough for me to download and solve the puzzle. But then it faded out again. Then the modem rebooted itself (!?). And now I seem to be typing in some spirit world between connectivity and disconnectivity. I keep hitting "Update" so that I can be sure this post is getting through, if only incrementally. If you are somehow reading this early in the morning and it seems, uh, unfinished, it probably is! [Update: it's finished now] Anyway, I couldn't have been in a worse mood / headspace when I solved this puzzle, so I don't have a lot of good vibes to spread. I don't know if it was genuinely harder than usual because of names and concepts I didn't know, or if I was just so distracted by all the morning frustration that I couldn't think straight. The grid looks fine, but the cluing was out of my wheelhouse, a lot, and there wasn't much that gave me genuine joy. Maybe LOVER'S QUARREL (16D: Cause of a breakup), which is a nice phrase that also looks kind of like LOVER SQUIRREL, which is providing me with an amusing visual.
SORORITY SQUAT (34A: Group photo pose during a rush) is original and will be very entertaining to someone, but my general feelings about campus Greek like are ... not ... too positive ... so that answer doesn't hold the charm for me that it might for others. But again, my particularly terrible morning is probably coloring a lot of my solving experience today.
I don't care about royal weddings At All, so the TIARA clue meant nothing to me (17A: Meghan Markle's "something borrowed"). I had KANGAROO but absolutely no idea what was supposed to follow at 14D: Marsupium, by another name—it was so weird that I started doubting KANGAROO. That clue is so weird. Other marsupials have marsupia (marsupiums?) but surely those are not called KANGAROO POUCHes. Surely koalas and opossums don't have KANGAROO POUCHes. You would call a *kangaroo*'s marsupium a KANGAROO POUCH, but that's not a term for the "marsupium" generally. Very confusing. Also confusing: getting -OOD- at 15A: Place to slurp ramen and writing in FOOD COURT (it fit!). Probably the worst hole I fell into. To me, [Not alcoholic] = VIRGIN (yeah, not a great term, but that's the term I know). Never even thought that SOFT might mean "not alcoholic," which means I never questioned where the term "SOFT drink" might come from. That was rough. IVLINE was rough (you "run an IV," if medical shows are to be believed—the IVLINE formality threw me). That clue on ESTEE was hard (27D: Signature scent introduced in 1968), but I eventually defaulted to ESTEE because of crossword experience. When in doubt... ESTEE! Didn't know she had a "signature scent." No idea about Drake's label (doesn't make the answer OVO—classic Latin crosswordese—any better, frankly). I had no idea TINY HOUSE was a "movement," LOL. Was just reading about LLOSA yesterday, for reasons I can't remember (59A: Author Mario Vargas ___). His politics came up, somehow. He once ran for president of Peru (1990)! He seems to be pretty accommodating of right-wing authoritarianism lately (see "Peru" and "Chile" here), but admittedly, South American politics are not my area of expertise. I don't think I've ever read LLOSA, which is shameful. Reading shame! I have so much of it. OK, now that I have internet and my wife and I have figured out how to administer the cat's meds non-traumatically, I have to go sit quietly somewhere with my coffee. Again, my apologies to all concerned for being temperamentally out of sorts this morning (yes, more than usual!). See you tomorrow!
THEME: OXYGENATION (34A: Photosynthetic process "inflating" 16-, 24-, 46- and 56-Across) — just add oxygen (O 2) (i.e. two "O"s) to the clued answer to get the answer in the grid ... which is just ... an unclued answer:
Theme answers:
CANOODLES (candles + O 2) (16A: Mood setters for a romantic dinner)
BOO RADLEY (Bradley + O 2) (24A: Actor Cooper)
TATTOOERS (tatters + O 2) (46A: Torn and ragged clothing)
PATOOTIES (patties + O 2) (56A: Quarter-pound things at McDonald's)
Word of the Day: BOO RADLEY (see 24A) —
In the classic American novel To Kill a Mockingbird, Boo Radley(whose first name is actually Arthur) doesn’t leave his house or talk to anyone, which leads the children in the novel’s setting (Maycomb, Alabama) to wildly speculate about what he looks and acts like. According to main character Scout Finch’s brother, Jem, Boo Radley is more than six-feet tall with yellow teeth, a scar across his entire face, and blood-stained hands from eating raw cats.
In the reality of the story, Boo Radley is a kind but mentally underdeveloped recluse who stays inside after an accident in his childhood. He secretly leaves the Finch siblings little gifts in a tree outside as a friendly, social gesture and becomes a hero who saves them from an attack at the end of the book. Scout walks Boo Radley home after his heroics and begins to see the world from his perspective, learning her father’s lesson that you can never understand someone before “trying on his skin.”
Harper Lee apparently based the character of Boo Radley on a real family who lived in a boarded-up house down the street from her during her childhood. (dictionary.com)
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I had somewhat high hopes for this one after I got CANOODLES. I thought it was really impressive the way the clue managed to get the base word (candles) and the oxygenated word (CANOODLES) to relate to one another (via the idea of a romantic dinner). Canoodling by candlelight! Nice. But the next themer I got was TATTOOERS, and the connection there between the base word and the oxygenated word was a lot less obvious. "I guess tattoo artists ... sometimes wear ripped ... shirts? Or jeans? ... maybe?" And then later: "Did Bradley Cooper .... play BOO RADLEY ... in a movie I don't know about? Or on Broadway?"). But then the dream of a connection between base word and oxygenated fell apart completely at PATOOTIES (unless, of course, you think that McDonald's hamburgers taste like ass, in which case, bull's eye!) (so weird that "patootie" can mean both "sweetheart" and "buttocks" ... English, what a language!). The most remarkable thing about this puzzle is that it's the second Thursday in a row where "patooties" have been involved (last week was the whole "-tooties" = two "T"s thing). I wouldn't want to guess at what the odds of such a hebdomadal coincidence are, but I'd say fairly slim. (Sorry, I just learned the word "hebdomadal" this week, while looking up "hebetude," so I'm trying it out on you all, thank you for your patience).
The puzzle had a slightly older feel today, in terms of its (pop) culture center of gravity (this is not a bad thing, just a thing). Putting "My Friend FLICKA" directly over BOO RADLEY definitely shoots you back to the mid-20th century for sure (though yes, Mockingbird is allegedly "timeless," blah blah blah). I think of Captain Marvel as very mid-century as well, though of course s/he's still around, appearing in a movie as recently as ... I dunno, recently (2019, actually). It's more than a little confusing to me, still, that Captain Marvel is the name of a character in both the Marvel *and* the DC Comics universe. In the DC universe he's maybe better known as "Shazam!," which is the name of the recent movie about him, which, like Marvel's movie Captain Marvel, also came out in 2019, dear lord, make the superhero movie conveyor belt stop, the culture is choking on these things. Make superheroes unpopular (i.e. genuinely nerdy) again! Speaking of (still more) superheroes, I briefly made Aquaman the king of the ATLANTIC (15D: Where Aquaman reigns as king). I don't know if that's better or worse than being the king of ATLANTIS. Probably more boring. And polluted. Less glamorous. You'd have to deal with the royalty from all the other oceans, which is probably a drag. So much sea ego, so many border disputes.
No real tricky spots today, just a few typical Thursday stumbles here and there. I made Captain Marvel an ALIEN at first (22A: Captain Marvel, for one). Completely blanked on AMY TAN (37A: Author of "The Bonesetter's Daughter," 2001). I was thinking of ... gah, what's her name ... the other "Bone" novel ... Keri Hulme ... Bone People, is that something? ... yes! NZ / Maori author Keri Hulme won the Booker for her 1984 novel The Bone People. Add that to your late-week KERI cluing options, constructors (it's OK, KERI Russell, you can still have M-Th).
Needed most of the crosses to get COGS (53D: Peons, metaphorically) (I think of "Peons" as already a metaphor, these days). I spelled HERESAY thusly, yikes (40D: Grist for the rumor mill). When your HEARSAY is also contrary to orthodox religious teachings: HERESAY! Two texting initialisms (BRB, IMO) is one texting initialism too many, IMO. One per puzzle, please. There are LIMITS! I really liked the clue on ATTIRE (41D: It may get worn out). Coulda stopped that clue at "worn" but the "out" really takes the misdirection to a new and more vivid level (you're not wearing it out through constant use, your wearing it ... out, like on a date, perhaps to a fancy dinner complete with candles and canoodling, who knows!?). Hope your Thursday, like every day, is happy and full of oxygen. See you tomorrow.
A long time ago, I was solving this puzzle and got stuck at an unguessable (to me) crossing: N. C. WYETH crossing NATICK at the "N"—I knew WYETH but forgot his initials, and NATICK ... is a suburb of Boston that I had no hope of knowing. It was clued as someplace the Boston Marathon runs through (???). Anyway, NATICK— the more obscure name in that crossing—became shorthand for an unguessable cross, esp. where the cross involves two proper nouns, neither of which is exceedingly well known. NATICK took hold as crossword slang, and the term can now be both noun ("I had a NATICK in the SW corner...") or verb ("I got NATICKED by 50A / 34D!")