Mark Trail’s side-eye

[Mark Trail, November 27, 2018. Click for a larger view.]

I would like to imagine that in the interstice, Mark has dashed in front of the other guy, the better to give him the old side-eye. But what’s “strange” here? That someone has an education? And went away from “the jungle,” to a school, to get it? Does Mark believe in (so-called) distance learning for place-bound students?

And speaking of education: if Mark were a little better educated, he might spell José with an acute accent. And the other guy might speak a little less clumsily: “Well, now that you mention it, he does seem highly educated for someone who claims to have grown up around the jungle. But I think he said he went away to school somewhere!”

Related reading
All OCA Mark Trail posts (Pinboard)

[“The other guy”: aka What’s-his-face, aka “Professor Carter.” Wait, he’s a professor? I know that not everyone spells José with an accent. But in the work of an Anglo cartoonist, its absence looks like a mistake.]

Ancestry and me

I signed up for a free peek into Ancestry.com and got to see my paternal grandfather’s draft card and Army discharge. Neat.

But I have no interest in signing up for AncestryDNA. Taking that test could reveal that I am not part beagle.

[Elaine said I should write this post.]

Scones

It’s a miserable day: 29°, feeling like 14°, and not a sun in the sky. So we made scones, following a Food Network recipe. So easy, especially when the legit baker in the house takes the lead.

I highly recommend scones, served with jam and Irish breakfast tea or with anything else. Three scones down, eight to go.

“Maestro!”

In his youth, Eduard Saxberger published one slim volume of poems. Now, as a much older man, he is baffled but flattered to learn that his work has a small group of young admirers. Among them: the actress Fräulein Gasteiner.


Arthur Schnitzler, Late Fame, trans. Alexander Starritt (New York: New York Review Books, 2017).

Arthur Schnitzler wrote Late Fame in 1894 and 1895. The novella, recently discovered in an archive of Schnitzler’s unpublished work, is a beautifully understated satire about the pretensions of literary movements and the attractions and perils of literary celebrity — even celebrity of the most modest kind.

Our household’s two-person reading club is now on a Schnitzler kick.

[I like the translator’s manyth.]

Domestic comedy

[Watching Hallmark.]

“Aw, he is Santa Claus. Fuck!”

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All OCA domestic comedy posts (Pinboard)

From a dream

“Of course I can honk and listen to you at the same time. I’m a capable multitasker.”

[Sounds to me like the caption for a New Yorker cartoon. No idea who was speaking: someone driving, a goose, &c.]

Word of the day: preceptor

The Oxford English Dictionary Word of the Day is preceptor. For me, it’s a madeleine: as a grad student, I taught incoming first-year college students in a summer program whose administrator referred to instructors as preceptors. The OED definitions that could have fit: “probably: an expert in the art of writing or the composition of prose.” That one is marked obsolete. And: “a person who gives instruction; a teacher, a tutor.”

Preceptor comes to English from the classical Latin praeceptor, meaning “teacher, instructor.” Praeceptor comes from praecept, the past participle of praecipere, “to take beforehand, to anticipate, to presuppose, to give instruction, to advise, to order, command.”

As a preceptor, I was precepting all the time. But I never thought of my work in that way, and I don’t think that I ever thought about my title. I probably suspected that someone pulled the word from a thesaurus to avoid the plain teacher. But preceptor does have a history in American higher education.

Preceptor or not, you may subscribe to the OED Word of the Day.

[“I was precepting all the time”: precept really is both a noun and a verb.]

Little Everywhere and Stitcher, sheesh

From episode four of the podcast The Dream: “Robert and him struck up a friendship.” And twelve seconds later: “Him and Robert also had the idea.” And as a bonus, just thirty seconds away, a left dislocation: ”So William Penn Patrick, he ran for governor.”

When Elaine and I heard “Robert and him” this morning, on a walk, each of us on a device, her and me cried out in dismay.

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All OCA sheesh posts (Pinboard)

Today’s Saturday Stumper

Today’s Newsday Saturday Stumper, by Brad Wilber, is rated G, as in Goldilocks: not too easy, not too difficult, just right, with some beautifully clever clues. The four I liked best: 22-Across, three letters, “Beat back.” 40-Across, five letters, “Inferior cut, to many.” 3-Down, eight letters, “Boxing venue.” And 12-Down, six letters, “Fahrenheit or Celsius.” I especially like the likes of 22-Across, with so much trickiness going toward a three-letter answer.

No spoilers: the answers are in the comments.

Block that metaphor

From Harold Evans’s Do I Make Myself Clear? A Practical Guide to Writing Well in the Modern Age (2017):

The tsunami of new words has not so far relieved us of the encroaching corruptions of political vocabulary skewered by Orwell seventy years ago.

Seventy years skewered but still encroaching. And the tsunami can’t help. Help.

Countless books on writing offer less egomania, greater clarity, greater concision, better organization, and fewer mixed metaphors. In other words, better writing. I have only 233 pages of Sir Harold’s book to go.

Related reading
All OCA metaphor posts (Pinboard)
How to improve writing (no. 78)

[How did this book pass the page-ninety test? Good question. Page ninety offers a succinct statement — “The passive voice is preferable if not inescapable in four categories” — followed by examples. The page is atypical.]