SATURDAY, August 2, 2008 - Karen M. Tracey (CREATOR OF MR. FIELDING AND PROF. GODBOLE / IT COMES BETWEEN SHABAN AND SHAWWAL)

Saturday, August 2, 2008

RELATIVE DIFFICULTY: Medium Challenging

THEME: None

I got owned.

Speaking for all the dilettantes out there, all of us who’ve made it this far in life by knowing just enough to be able to sound like we know vastly more than we actually do, those of us who think we can fake it so far and get by on charm for the rest, those of us who can talk convincingly about books we’ve never read and films we’ve never seen and leave the impression that we’ve plumbed that author’s or director’s oeuvre, those of us who pretend we know what oeuvre means . . . people, this puzzle has come to collect.

I finished it! I did. Just short of an hour, and it was a non-stop session. But I ask you, at what cost, sir? At what cost?

Almost every single clue had its way with me. I verbed; it nouned. I past-tensed; it adjectified. I pluraled; it said, HA! Looking at the wrong word, fool!

And Ms. Tracey is one of those constructors with a diabolical talent for being able to stack up compound or compound-like words such that even if you get part of the word there might as well be another row of black squares separating that part from the rest of the puzzle, for all the good it does you.

But enough of this. Let us descend.

ABANDON HOPE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE

First pass I didn’t commit to much. I filled in the plurals, took a shot at some past tense stuff (most of which wound up biting me on the butt), I think I put in VOW (22A: Bad thing to break); SETH (23A: Member of the first family), because I saw by glancing at the Down clues that 1D was likely a plural (and a real American plural, by God, with an S, not one of those fake foreign fake plurals that end in A or I), which knocked Adam, Abel and that rascal Cain out of the running, leaving only Seth, the cousin Oliver of the Biblical Bunch, to fit the squares; PLO (51A: West Bank grp.) because we just had it yesterday; IBEAM (29D: Structural support); then hit pay dirt with the three down clues in the far SE corner. I also put in SOUND for 16A (It comes in waves), which was wrong, but I quickly corrected it to CRIME when I figured out 13D was NETWT (It doesn’t include the packaging: Abbr.


Then I sat. I sat for a long time looking at _ _ _ _ METER and _ _ _ _ TETRA, wondering what sort of eight-sided thing the Army commonly affixes to its tanks (57: Common addition to tanks – NEONTETRA), wondering what sort of meter measures something you once did in five letters.

And it just went on like that. For a long, long, long time.

For a long. Long. Long. Long. Time.

The last letter I entered in the puzzle was the B in ARB/ABAFT at 10D (Trading specialist, briefly) and 18A (Fore’s opposite), respectively. I don’t understand those two answers. I don’t understand anything anymore. I’m frightened. I just want my wife to come back.

Things in this Puzzle That Made Me Sad

  • 1A: Prussia annexed it in 1802 (ESSEN) – Right away you know what you’re in for, if you have any sense. Clues with Prussia in them make me think of spiky helmets and elaborate facial hair. (I myself have been described as Kaiseresque.)

  • 6A: Means of execution for favored criminals in antiquity (ASP) – Gee. Thanks. I guess. (Said the favored criminal in antiquity.)

  • 14A: Beak (SCHNOZZLE) – Got this (finally) with the Z from ZSA ZSA GABOR (15D: She opined “Macho does not mean mucho”). I think I’ve got a talent for instinctively knowing how many letters are in a word, not that it’s much use for anything. So if somebody said, “Quick! Parabolic!” I’d say immediately, “Nine.” Schnozzle is one of those words I couldn’t do that with. It takes up a lot more letters than it sounds like it does. I’d be like the evil guy manning the toll-bridge in The Holy Grail when he’s asked about swallows.

  • 17A: Condition (PROVISION) – This is typical of the puzzle. Until it shows up in a crossword, you’re probably not aware that the word “condition” has so many disparate meanings. I was thinking physical fitness.

  • 19A: Senatorial support (YEA) – Verily, I thought this was more along the lines of what Jesus said, not senators. (I had YAY, AYE, YES, et al.)

  • 20A: It comes between Shaban and Shawwal (RAMADAN) – I’d have nailed this if the clue had been, “The only Arabic month you know (you insipid little dilettante with all your English-majory pretensions and your bumper-stickers espousing all the correct positions on the proper causes and those prominently displayed jazz CD’s that you never listen to because you really don’t like jazz at all.)”


  • 27A: No-votes? (ABSTENTIONS) – I had ABSTAININGS. I really did. That’s what this puzzle did to me.

  • 30A: Promised one (MESSIAH) – Another head-fake that threw me off the whole puzzle. I was thinking of somebody who got promised something, which I thought would end in EE.

  • 43A: Sending out signals (ONAIR) – Got this one pretty early. Felt pretty good. Didn’t do squat for me.

  • 44A: Many a blog post (RANT) – Ahem.

  • 48A: It contains a dash (CAR) – Mean. She’s just mean.

  • 54A/56A: It tells you how much you’ve 56 across (ALTIMETER / RISEN) – Know what I was thinking? I didn’t put it in but I was thinking it. CLUMB. I was thinking an altimeter measured how far I’d clumb. This puzzle took something more from me than merely my pride. It made me consider “clumb” as a word.

  • 59A: ___ Robbins, co-lyricist of the #1 “Rocky” theme song “Gonna Fly Now” (AYN) – We’ve had generations of crossword constructors come and go, and they didn’t have much that united them, but I think one part of their unspoken moral code that has remained unchanged throughout the generations is that AYN always belongs to Ms. Rand. We don’t go outside the Fountainhead/Atlas-Shrugged/Who-is-John-Gault perimeter for this answer. Apparently Ms. Tracey doesn’t think this rule applies to her. She’s gonna fly now with the co-lyricist of a song that has three words. It took more than one person to write a song with three words, and somehow one of those people is crossword-worthy. (I know, one of you cruciverbalist folk is gonna come pour water on my joke by pointing out how many times since 1942 AYN has been clued in a way that doesn’t involve Ayn Rand. Why do I have to be limited to the facts all the time?)


  • 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11D: I could say something about each of those entries, and all of the others. The pain each caused me was unique. But what more does this puzzle want from me?

  • 13D: Creator of Mr. Fielding and Prof. Godbole (E.M. FORSTER) – Is that what you want? For me to admit that I’ve never read E.M. Forster? Okay, I’ve never read E.M. Forster. Not in the way that he is supposed to be read, anyway. Not with reverence and eyebrows appreciatively cocked. I read The Razor’s Edge but didn’t really pay any attention to it because the hero’s name is Larry (I think), and it’s just hard to accord tragic significance to somebody named Larry, especially when he was played in a movie by Bill Murray. [Note from Seth at 3:30 a.m.: "Razor's Edge was Maugham, right?" Indeed it was, my friend. Indeed it was. I'm pretty sure there was somebody named Larry in A Passage to India, too.] I read “The Machine Stops” only a few months ago, because I was going through some books and found an anthology called Classic Short Modern Novels or something like that, and it had the Forster novella in it and, like always, I felt guilty and fraudulent because I hadn’t surrendered up my soul in reverence to E-freaking-M-Forster, the thinking man’s Henry James, so I left it in the toilet for occasional perusal. It’s about this lady who lives in a pod because it’s the future and people live in pods now. Her son is grown and also lives in a pod but he doesn’t like it because it’s a COMMENT ON THE HUMAN SPIRIT. The lady thinks the pod is fine because everything anybody needs is provided for by “the machine,” which is a SYMBOL. I forgot what happened. My wife was yelling at me to get out of the toilet.

  • 21D: Ride for 007 (ASTON MARTIN) – I don’t think of 007 when I think of Aston Martins. (I don’t think I’ve ever seen an entire James Bond movie, come to think of it.) I think of these two fat twin brothers who were sons of the owner of the local auto-parts store where I worked one summer in high school. One’s name was Prentice; I don’t remember what the other one’s name was. They were identical fat twins, probably in their twenties or thirties, and didn’t work or anything, but they each had Aston Martins (lots of money in small town auto parts stores, I guess), and one of the twins made me wash his car one day instead of stocking the new supply of auto parts. Man, I hated those guys. It was either an Aston Martin or an Alfa Romeo. I don’t know anything about cars.

  • 31D: Tough to crack (ENIGMATIC) – See, all these clues and answers look perfectly fine now, but you gotta understand what it was like. You had to have been there, staring at _ _ _ GMATIC and being able think only of PRAGMATIC, and not even knowing if the G was right. It was horrible, man.

  • 39D: Co-star of “Friends” and “Friends With Money” (ANISTON) – I watched Friends. I’m admitting that. I wouldn’t have before I did this puzzle. I watched Friends and could not think of any of the actors’ names. Lisa Kudrow was the only one I finally summoned. This puzzle did that to me. All that “staving off Alzheimer’s” stuff is shot to hell by this puzzle.

    It’s late. I could go on. (I know, that’s the problem, I know.) This has been a blast, helping man the blog with Seth and Angela for the past few weeks. I’m heading to Scotland in a few days and will probably be scarce for awhile. Seth and PG will take over until Rex returns, Thursday or thereabouts. So long for now.

    Wade

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FRIDAY, August 1, 2008 - Patrick Berry (Fictional parrot type featured in Monty Python’s “dead parrot sketch” / LIEUTENANT OF CAPONE)

Friday, August 1, 2008

Relative difficulty: Easy

I don’t think any of the B-Team has exercised the trashcan privilege veto power since we’ve been driving the bus, but if anybody makes a whisper of a peep or even looks like he or she is going to say anything about 19A, you’ll be sharing a room with Oscar the Grouch.


***

Lots of nouns in this puzzle, clever clues, few fill-in-the-_____’s, hardly any abbreviations, no bona fide crosswordese, nothing that screams of desperation on the constructor’s part. I’m not sure how much of that is criteria for objective analysis of crossword construction, but those are my off-the-cuff scorecard categories. Good stuff, say I, if a bit on the easy side for Friday and not terribly adventurous in branching out far beyond the letters they spot you on Wheel of Fortune. (When did they start doing that, by the way? That business with the RSTLNE, I mean. In the old days, Woolery made you work for every damn letter. He knew you’d come back and thank him for it later. And you did.)

So maybe the grid overall isn’t that ambitious (for a Friday), but I do think a lot of the clues are worthy of esteem. [Updated: I've been corrected by more insightful critics who point out that the grid is in fact pretty ambitious, word-count and word-lengthwise.]

Clues Worthy of Esteem:
  • 14A: Like singing in the shower (A CAPPELLA) - To some people, everything invokes a Seinfeld episode. For me, everything invokes a Barney Fife moment:
  • 17A: Unwilling to get organized (ANTIUNION) - That’s a good, professional-level clue. It’s got wit, it’s accurate, it’s not too showy. As I get older and my options become more limited I’m starting to appreciate that kind of effort more and more. Just get it done quietly like a pro and let the kids have their fun.

  • 20A: _____ War (“Charge of the Light Brigade” conflict) (CRIMEAN) - Tennyson anyone? (Old joke, I know.) I knew this but didn’t get it on the first pass. Memorization of the poem is forced upon British schoolchildren, according to my wife. I think it’s the one with the line “Ours is not to question why, ours is but to do and die.” [update: I didn't get that exactly right. Should be "Theirs" not ours, and "reason" not "question."]
  • 22A: Fictional parrot type featured in Monty Python’s “dead parrot sketch” (NORWEGIAN BLUE) - Probably a gimme for lots of people but not me. I’ve seen parts of the sketch, I think, but never the whole thing. Before there were irritating Simpsons-quoters there were irritating Monty Python-quoters.
  • 24A: 7 and 11 (PRIMES) - Another good, non-showy clue, this one with a crappy misdirection. The man never breaks a sweat.
  • 32A: “Draft Dodger Rag” singer (OCHS) - Phil Ochs. I got this on the first pass and am not sure why. I used to fancy myself a folkie when I was about fourteen, but don’t think I’ve ever heard a Phil Ochs song. He hanged himself 1976 [updated from an reference to "the sixties," though 1976 was pretty much still the sixties, in my mind] but will live on forever in crosswords.

  • 37A and 38A: Pack animal (BURRO) and Pack animal? (CAMEL) - Okay, maybe this is a bit showy. (“Pack” as in cigarettes.)

  • 39A: 1970s American Motors car (HORNET) - Man, I miss the days when cars were named after things, tangible objects. I’m all for nouns—we need to protect our nouns and quit turning them into verbs. We have way too many verbs as it is. So don’t ask me where I “office,” because I’ve never officed in my life, and don’t ask me how something “impacted” me because nothing ever has. I’m unimpactable. I miss the Mustangs and Thunderbirds and Ramblers and Hornets and even the Gremlins and the Pacers. And then, midway upon the journey of our life, I found myself within a forest dark, for the straightforward pathway had been lost, and I found myself wondering what a “tercel” was.

  • 44A: Where to find free spirits (OPEN BAR) - Another one. It’s his world. We just live in it.

  • 2D: It might make you red in the face (ACNE) - This nicely crosses the answer we’re not discussing today. Right? Not discussing today? Right?

  • 4D: Archetypes (EPITOMES) - Is that right? I don’t think that’s right. An epitome is just the “perfect example” of something, isn’t it? An archetype comes with lots of socio-whateveral and Freudian baggage, doesn’t it? I mispronounced “epitome” well into my twenties, by the way, at least in my mental pronunciation. Same with “superfluous.”

  • 15D: Plato and Aristotle (ANCIENTS) - I don’t know what “ancients” means in the classical Greek context. Auden’s always writing about “the ancients” and “the ancient of days,” and I’m kind of a big Auden guy—I think we got a good deal in the trade for Eliot—so I figured it out easily enough, but somebody’ll have to tell me what’s behind it.

  • 38D: Snapper, of a sort (CENTER) - Here’s the 145-pound center for the 1983 Graham Steers JV team. He was one mean sumbitch:

  • 40D: Eggheaded experts (WONKS) - I had DORKS at first. It just worked out that way.

  • 41D: Dealing with honey makers (APIAN) - Notwithstanding my recent comments down in the cheap seats about my generally ambivalent attitude toward food, I love honey. I often crave it. I don’t understand honey, I don’t know what food group it belongs to, I can’t think of any other creature whose puke we eat, but I love honey. A friend of mine named Clint has some bees, and they’re supposed to make some honey and he’s going to give me some.

Me (Wade) again tomorrow.



Additional message from Rex Parker. Blackberry users might be interested in the following announcement from Stephen Grant of Madmic Games:

Are you a crossword puzzle addict who owns a Blackberry?

Magmic Games, under license from The New York Times, is now looking for enthusiastic participants to help shape the soon-to-be-released mobile version of The New York Times Crosswords. Your commitment would involve: downloading a pre-release version of The New York Times Crosswords onto your Blackberry; spending some time playing the game; and then answering a questionnaire giving your feedback and suggestions.

If you are interested in applying to take part, please send an email to nytxbeta@magmic.com, with the subject line “Application”. The body of the email should include the following information:

1. Your name

2. Your email address

3. Your Blackberry model number, e.g., 8130

4. Your location: City/State or Province/Country

5. Your experience with crossword puzzles


Please note that your personal data will not be used for any other purpose, now or in the future.

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