How to improve writing (no. 17 in a series)

From a newspaper review of a concert:

an anchor of the famous "Hallelujah" chorus

That would be an encore. The moral of the story: when handling an unfamiliar word, don't trust intuition or a spellchecker. Use a dictionary and make sure that what you're writing is what you mean.

This post is no. 17 in a very occasional series, "How to improve writing," dedicated to improving stray bits of published prose.

Related posts
On "pneumonic" devices
Oops

All "How to improve writing" posts (via Pinboard)

Frank Sinatra's popcorn

Driving, listening to a station devoting its December air-time to "holiday music," I was delighted to hear Frank Sinatra singing "Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!" (words by Sammy Cahn, music by Jule Styne). I'd never heard a Sinatra version of this song.

But delight turned into doubt, for it's difficult to imagine Frank Sinatra doing what the I of the lyric claims to have done. Recall the song's start:

Oh! The weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since we've no place to go,
Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

It doesn't show signs of stopping
And I brought some corn for popping,
The lights are turned 'way down low,
Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

Would Sinatra show up on a lady's doorstep with popcorn? It's difficult to imagine:

"Frank! I thought you'd never get here."

"I had to look at a swinging new arrangement with Nelson Riddle. And the roads are very bad tonight. But I brought you something I think you will like."

[Presents gift. It makes a shaking sound.]

"Popcorn?"

As I have previously stated, it's difficult to imagine.

With Dean Martin, who also recorded this song, popcorn is more plausible. A fella gets a little tipsy, he reaches for the box with the new earrings for his girl, picks up the popcorn instead, doesn't realize his mistake, gets in his car: these things happen. But Frank Sinatra and popcorn? As I have previously stated, it's difficult to imagine.

You may be wondering about the song's lyric: is it bought or brought ? Sammy Cahn's Rhyming Dictionary (2002) gives brought (and all the exclamation points!).

And now (as I have not previously stated) it's back to my double-shift at the Continental Paper Grading Co.

December 8, 1980

Yoko Ono has written a letter to John Lennon:

I miss you, John. 27 years later, I still wish I could turn back the clock to the Summer of 1980. . . .

Letter from Yoko to John (Imagine Peace)

The Sound of Jazz, fifty years ago today

[Billie Holiday listens to Lester Young, December 8, 1957.]

Fifty years ago today, CBS broadcast The Sound of Jazz as part of its series The Seven Lively Arts. Gunther Schuller: "Unquestionably the finest hour jazz has ever had on television." Here are four highlights, courtesy of YouTube:

Henry "Red" Allen, Wild Man Blues
Jimmy Giuffre, The Train and the River
Billie Holiday, Fine and Mellow (mislabeled as 1944)
Thelonious Monk, Blue Monk

Watching these clips this morning, I began to think about the number of posters that could be made from the often iconic images therein.

The Sound of Jazz (Wikipedia)
The Sound of Jazz (Amazon)

Related post
On December 8

Proust on objects and their associations

[Welcome, kottke.org readers.]

A post at kottke.org by Adam Lisagor, Remembrance of Phones Past, has developed into a wonderful and sometimes Proustian discussion of telephones and other objects and their associations. Here's a relevant Proust passage, perhaps the relevant passage. It concerns the narrator's rediscovery of a favorite book from childhood:

Some mystery-loving minds maintain that objects retain something of the eyes that have looked at them, that we can see monuments and pictures only through an almost intangible veil woven over them through the centuries by the love and admiration of so many admirers. This fantasy would become truth if they transposed it into the realm of the only reality each person knows, into the domain of their own sensitivity. Yes, in that sense and that sense only (but it is much the more important one), a thing which we have looked at long ago, if we see it again, brings back to us, along with our original gaze, all the images which that gaze contained. This is because things — a book in its red binding, like the rest — at the moment we notice them, turn within us into something immaterial, akin to all the preoccupations or sensations we have at that particular time, and mingle indissolubly with them.

Marcel Proust, Finding Time Again, translated by Ian Patterson (London: Penguin, 2003), 193

A related post
Out of the past (On two books from childhood)

All Proust posts (Pinboard)

Overheard

From a conversation about evolution:

". . . Pope Ron Paul the Second . . ."

All "Overheard" posts (via Pinboard)

(Thanks, Elaine!)

Plot keyword: Proust

The International Movie Database lists 141 plot keywords for Little Miss Sunshine, including eating, eyeglasses, and fried chicken. What's missing? Proust. "French writer. Total loser," according to Frank Ginsberg (Steve Carell), the movie's number-one Proust scholar in the United States.

In real life, screenwriter Michael Arndt's twin brother is a Proust scholar. Co-director Jonathan Dayton: "He's in Ankara, so he's the number-one Proust scholar in Turkey."

I added Proust to the IMDb's word-hoard this morning. Will it stick? I'll know in a few weeks.

[Update, 3.16.08: Marcel Proust is now a keyword for Little Miss Sunshine.]

Walking on Sunshine (Interview with Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris)

All Proust posts (via Pinboard)

Gods in color

Archaeologist Vinzenz Brinkmann makes color reconstructions of ancient Greek and Roman sculpture. His work is on display at Harvard University's Sackler Museum. From the Wall Street Journal:

The fashion for white antiquities dates back to the early 16th century, when the Renaissance began excavating works that had lain buried in the earth for centuries. Color traces still visible to the naked eye, deep in the folds of draped clothing, for instance, went unnoticed. Following what they believed to be the Greek and Roman example, Italian sculptors — notably Michelangelo — conceived their creations as uncolored. By the 18th century, practitioners of the then-new science of archaeology were aware that the ancients had used color. But Johann Joachim Winckelmann, the German prefect of antiquities at the Vatican, preferred white. His personal taste was enshrined by fiat as the "classical" standard. And so it remained, unchallenged except by the occasional eccentric until the late 20th century.

[Photograph: Trojan archer, original c. 490–480 BCE, color reconstruction by Vinzenz Brinkmann and Ulrike Koch-Brinkmann.]

Gods in Color: Painted Sculpture of Classical Antiquity (Harvard University Art Museums)
Setting the Record Straight About Classical Statues' Hues (Wall Street Journal)
Gods in Color slideshow (WSJ)

Kleinert's dress shields

I found this advertisement in a manila folder while decluttering a bit in my office today. If an accompanying magazine cover is to be believed, this ad appeared the April 29, 1940 issue of Life.

If Arthur Murray were still living, he'd be 112 years old, and he would no doubt still, in a whisper, insist on Kleinert dress shields, even if "the positions of the dance" nowadays are likely to reveal much more than underarms.

And lo — Kleinert's is still making dress shields in Elba, Alabama, though notion counters, like the Americonga and the company's Toronto, New York, and London offices, are long gone.

Related reading
Arthur Murray (Wikipedia)
All "dowdy world" posts (via Pinboard)

Saucy tomatoes

Making Cuban black beans and rice for dinner, following a recipe in Robin Robertson's Vegan Planet (2003), I stopped and thought about this sentence:

Cover and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables are tender and the tomatoes are saucy, about 10 minutes.

Nine minutes or so later, I started hearing cracks about my sweater-vest, and I knew the dish was done.

My favorite saucy is in John Donne's "The Sunne Rising," a poem that characterizes the sunne himself as a "Sawcy pendantique wretch." I'd welcome the sunne and share my Cuban black beans and rice with him if he was to visit. (It's been a gray, grey day.)