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I’m revisiting the best battle scene I’ve ever read. That great American hero, Bob Lee Swagger, is young, in Vietnam, and facing a massive challenge. The action begins with Chapter 12 of “Time To Hunt” and continues for over 50 gripping pages.
You’re welcome,
Paige
In all, Lawerence Sanders published over 30 novels. And, boy, did he love words! I'm revisiting his Archy McNally series, and marveling at the vocabulary. (I'm convinced Sanders didn't use obscure words just to show off. He seemed to get a kick out of phrasing sentences in unique ways.)
From just a single novel:
pourboire
leman
impecunious
cicerone
philological
neurasthenic
instanter
perturbation
branigan
slumgullion
oubliette
paterfamilias
dégagé
sporan
velocipede
lumpen
And he sprinkled in Yiddish:
meshugaas
Plus, of course, Latin:
amor vincit omnia (love conquers all)
non illegitimi carborundum (don't let the bastards grind you down)
mens sans in copore sana (a healthy mind in a healthy body)
de mortis nil nisi bonum (don't speak ill of the dead)
Because the readers here are so erudite, I didn't bother defining those rather recondite words. Right?
Paige
A free hint — it is not “accommodate”.That particular word has the distinction of being misspelled in the greatest variety of ways. I learned this and other interesting factoids in a recent “New Yorker” article by John McPhee.
In a course he taught at Princeton, he used a 20-word spelling test that had been developed by T. R. Brown III at “Esquire”. In all of McPhee’s years to teaching, only one student — Nina Gilbert — correctly spelled 19 of the words.
Mayonnaise, impresario, supersede, desiccate, titillate.
Some more? Resuscitate, inoculate, rococo, consensus, sacrilegious.
Still here? Obbligato, moccasin, asinine, braggadocio, rarefy.
Almost there... liquefy, pavilion, vermilion, accommodate.
And the most misspelled word in the English language?
IMPOSTOR.
You’re welcome,
Paige
PS In another part of his final exam for students in Princeton’s Journalism and Creative Writing programs, McPhee asked them to name the 11 words in the English language that end in “umble”. Ten of them are easy to guess.
(John McPhee is 92 years old.)
In politics, the ‘third rail’ is a metaphor for any issue that is so controversial that it is 'charged'. And thus untouchable in the sense that any politician who speaks out on the topic will offend enough voters to impact his career. Or hers.
Considering the SOL reader (through mail responses, story Comments, and blogs) I've decided there is one subject that qualifies for third-rail status. Now, I'm not talking about personal peccadilloes like sexual turn-offs.
The one temper-raising topic is, of course, politics. And, that's no surprise — SOL readers are representative of a divided America.
So, one of my fictional characters made some disparaging remarks about Trump. Boy, did I hear about that.
In another political arena — guns. Any gun-regulation discussion draws spirited reactions from both sides of the issue.
Now, a rational writer might well steer clear of these subjects. So, look for even more third-rail content in my future stories.
Not running for office,
Paige
Flash-fiction -- particularly the six-word story -- is fun and challenging. The most famous one is almost certainly improperly credited to Ernest Hemingway. The legend is that he won a bar bet from some writer-pals in the 1920s. However, versions of the tale date back to the early 1900s.
The story:
"For sale: baby shoes, never worn."
Interestingly, most people interpret it as something sad. A miscarriage, a tragic accident, a death of a parent, etc. But it could be that... oh, I don't know... a healthy baby was born with large feet.
Think positive,
Paige
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