Now go do the right thing.
N.B. If you’re thinking of using any of the more esoteric adjectives here, you’d be well advised to keep an OED close at hand. This is not simply a gratuitous plug of another Oxford U. Press product. The fact is that some of these hair-related terms aren’t in other dictionaries; plus, the terms are often specialized enough that you’re going to want not just an abstract definition but a couple sample sentences so that you can see how the words are actually used. Only the OED has both defs. and in-context samples for just about every significant word in the language. Actually, why not screw appearances and just state the obvious: No really serious writer should be without an OED, whether it’s bought or stolen or hacked into the online version of or whatever you need to do. Nothing else comes close.
— 2004
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riparian—having to do with rivers rostrate (adj.) — having a beaklike part rowen—a second crop, as of hay, in a season ruck—a multitude of people mixed together; (v.) to crease or fold ruddled (adj.) — red-shot, bloody (ruddle is ferrous red dye) ruderal (adj.) — growing in garbage, waste, icky ground, especially w/r/t plants rue—fragrant weeds rufous—color: reddish, from pinkish to orangeish ruga—bio term for fold, wrinkle, or crease, as in lining of stomach; (adj.) rugate runnel—a creek or narrow channel for water ruth—compassion or pity for another; sorrow about one’s own misdeeds sacerdotal—of or relating to priests satyromaniac—male version of nymphomaniac scilicet—adverb, Latin for “that is to say,” “namely” (like “viz.”?); abbreviations are sc., scil., ss. sciolism—pretentious air of scholarship; superficial knowledgeability; scissile (adj.) — cut or split easily; “a scissile mineral,” “a scissile peptide bond” scored — scarred or marked in parallel lines scotopia — ability to see in dark scupper — opening for draining off water septage — waste found in septic tank septectomy — removal of all or part of septum sere (adj.) — withered, dry seriate — arranged or occurring in a series or in rows seriatim — Latin adverb: one after another, in a series sericeous—covered with soft silky hairs serrate — having or forming a row of sharp little teethy things serried—pressed or crowded together, especially in rows… used with troops sessile — in botany, leaf that’s stalkless and attached directly at base; in zoology, permanently attached, not free-moving, like a barnacle seta—a stiff hair or bristle; (pl.) setae settle (n.)—wood en bench with high back and storage space under the seat Shavian—characteristic of George Bernard Shaw Sheraton—1800s type of furniture, simple, straight lines, long legs; tall, narrow desks, etc. shirr (v.) — to gather cloth into decorative rows by parallel stitching shivaree — Midwestern: noisy mock serenade for newlyweds (cops in rain in It’s a Wonderful Life) shrive — to obtain absolution shriven — absolved sic passim—“thus everywhere”; used to show something recurs throughout text silent butler—box w/handle and hinged cover for collecting ashes and crumbs silesia — sturdy twill used for linings and pockets (white greebly pocket material) silex—silica or finely ground tripoli used as an inertpaint filler simony—buying or selling ecclesiastical pardons, offices, or emoluments sinistrorse—growing upward in a spiral that turns from right to left: “a sinistrorse vine” skell — homeless derelict skep—beehive made of straw skive (v.) — to cut thin layers off sloe-eyed—having slanted dark eyes soffit—underside of a structural component like a beam, arch, or staircase soigné (adj.) — sophisticated, elegant, fashionable: “a soigné little restaurant” soilure (adj.)—dirty,soiled somnifacient—sleep-inducing somniferous — sleep-inducing son et lumière— theater show at night in outdoor setting, usually a historical setting, and related to history of a place
BORGES ON THE COUCH
THERE’S AN UNHAPPY PARADOX about literary biographies. The majority of readers who will be interested in a writer’s bio, especially one as long and exhaustive as Edwin Williamson’s Borges: A Life, will be admirers of the writer’s work. They will therefore usually be idealizers of that writer and perpetrators (consciously or not) of the intentional fallacy. Part of the appeal of the writer’s work for these fans will be the distinctive stamp of that writer’s personality, predilections, style, particular tics and obsessions — the sense that these stories were written by this author and could have been done by no other.1 And yet it often seems that the person we encounter in the literary biography could not possibly have written the works we admire. And the more intimate and thorough the bio, the stronger this feeling usually is. In the present case, the Jorge Luis Borges who emerges in Williamson’s book — a vain, timid, pompous mama’s boy, given for much of his life to dithery romantic obsessions — is about as different as one can get from the limpid, witty, pansophical, profoundly adult writer we know from his stories. Rightly or no, anyone who reveres Borges as one of the best and most important fiction writers of the last century will resist this dissonance, and will look, as a way to explain and mitigate it, for obvious defects in Williamson’s life study. The book won’t disappoint them.