Archive | March, 2012

Sightly Thoughts on Gruntlement

31 Mar

Many years ago, during English Language A-Level, a friend and I began thinking about words that have no positive equivalents. Unintentional, for instance, corresponds to intentional, but what does unsightly correspond to? I’ve never heard anyone describe anything as ‘sightly’.

The list is longer than you might think. It all started with disgruntled – a great word in itself, but wouldn’t gruntled be good, too? Ruthless and reckless attracted our attention as well. The Government should be running a campaign urging us all to drive reckfully.

A lot of these are what called fossil words – words that are preserved inside other words, in this case their negative versions. Reck, ruth and gorm used to actually be things, and people would use them in sentences, but they have died out, leaving only confusing traces in reckless, ruthless and gormless.

The issue sprang back to mind many years later because someone on the radio ticked Madonna off for singing “nothing’s indestructible”, criticising the phrase as a double negative. Leaving aside the fact that the criticism was based on a misunderstanding of the double negative rule (which is itself a silly rule), what was she supposed to have said? “Everything is destructable”? Is that a word?

Below is the list of these positive equivalents that are never used, as far as I know. It is nowhere near exhaustive and suggestions for additions will be considered ruthfully.

(The friend, by the way, was Kerry Smallman, who these days produces weird European house music,  and very good poetry, if you want to check it out.)http://www.myspace.com/kerryandcasio

AdvertantGormful
AimfullyGruntled
Card (as in discard)Gusting (As in disgusting, not as in wind.)
ChoateHapless
CombobulatedKempt
ConcertingMolish
CouthMoralised (as an adjective)
DefatigableNominious
DestructablePointful
DignationPudent
DisestablishmentarianismPunity
DolentReckful
DupitablyRuthful
EffableScathed (although we do have scathing)
EluctableSightly
ErtSolent
EvitableSouciance
FeckfulVincible
GainlyWieldy

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Book Touring and Village Craving

23 Mar

I am back from my mini ‘book tour’, taking in three venues in Sheffield – CLC bookshop, All Saints C of E and Sheffield High School. All the events went well, for which I am grateful to God, and a little bit embarrassed about my preceeding lack of faith.

My trip was nearly derailed before it started, however, due to the route I took to get to Sheffield. I unwittingly got on the slow train from Manchester instead of the fast one. Time wasn’t the issue because I had plenty to spare, but the slow train goes through the Hope Valley, the location of some of the most beautiful scenery and most charming looking villages in Derbyshire.

One of them is Edale, a lovely place all nestled below impressive hills, just asking to he climbed, and with an inviting pub right next to the station. Half the train seemed to get off there, people with rucksacks, maps and smiles, and even though I was due in Sheffield, it was as much as I could do not to follow them off the train and into the pub.

Duty prevailed, of course, as it always does with me, but I’ll have to go back to Edale sometime. Maybe I could set a story there and then I’d have to visit for ‘research’. In the meantime I’ll just add it to my list of astonishingly achievable life’s ambitions.

 

Update: I haven’t set a story in Edale yet, but I have set one in the charming fictional village of Haddleford. It’s currently free at Smashwords.

Running for Cover by K C Murdarasi

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The Hound of Heaven

17 Mar

By pure chance I have come across the most wonderful poem. I was invited to a concert by Matthew Todd, a talented tenor, and the main piece was a musical arrangement of Francis Thompson’s poem The Hound of Heaven. You can use the link to read the whole text of the poem and I would encourage you to because it’s astonishingly good.

The Hound of Heaven was written at the end of the nineteenth century, and it has the grandeur of Victorian art and poetry combined with the emotional immediacy and general weirdness of early twentieth century poetry. It is reminiscent of T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land at times, but also of Charles Kingsley and even of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam (especially the bit where Thompson talks about his lost youth).

I would quote my favourite bits, but it was written in an era before soundbites, so they tend to have to be quoted with their surrounding lines, or even whole verse, in order to make sense. This is being written in the era of smartphones, and my thumbs would seize up. I will just quote a couple of wee bits though, albeit out of context:

“I swung the earth a trinket at my wrist,”

and the opening line, which sends shivers down my spine:

“I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;”

Brilliant! And if that has tempted you, do yourself a favour by clicking the link above, and read the whole thing.

Leda Grows Legs

7 Mar

I’ve just been looking at all the places my novel, Leda, appears on the internet, and it’s quite surprised me. Not only is it available in Australia and New Zealand (with free shipping, apparently), it’s also in the e-catalogue of Jefferson County Public Library in (I presume) the USA.

It feels quite strange seeing my book fending for itself in the big, wide world. The first hundred copies or so were sold directly so I knew who bought them. Now I just see numbers on a screen and have no idea where they’ve gone. I haven’t seen it in physical bookshops yet (well to be honest, I haven’t looked yet) but I expect that will be quite a weird experience, too. It’s strange enough seeing books by Robert Low in Waterstones, and he’s only a friend’s husband. (He writes war sagas – vikings, Robert the Bruce and so on. Not for haemophobics, but a good read for those with strong stomachs.)

I know that eventually, for Leda to be a success, it has to be bought by lots of people who don’t know me. They may know a little about me (I’ve had articles in the Glaswegian, Yorkshire Post and Housing Scotland Today, so far) but I can’t turn on the emotional pressure with these people I’ll never meet, to persuade them to buy. Leda will have to stand on her own two feet – or fall. I’m pretty confident she’ll stand. She’s a tough wee girl.