deuteragonist

The descriptive literary phrase deuteragonist, ˌd(y)oōtəˈragənist, comes from the Greek δευτεραγωνιστης, deuteragonistes, "second actor". Clearly, the deuteragonist falls in importance between the protagonist and the tritagonist in order of importance in a dramatic work; the term also describes the number of lines a character spoke to the audience during the three-actor presentations typical of plays at Attic festivals.

I came across the word in a description of Jacopo Belbo's character in Foucault's Pendulum. It makes perfect sense, but I had never before seen it. A similarly logical word, Deuteronomy, took on almost mystical meaning when pronounced by a particular member of the faculty. He would emphasize that it described the second presentation of the law, and waggle his preternaturally long, tobacco-stained index fingers to indicate "second".

digamma

The digamma is an alphabetic character to which I am especially and sentimentally attached; I first came across it my first week at College, in Hardy Hansen's and the late Gerald M. Quinn's "Greek: An Intensive Course" (some info. available through Google Books).

[ a brief tussle with the six-year-old bundle of twine that holds together the code producing this blog ]

I especially liked Ϝ because it explained how οινος became wine: the initial labio-velar consonant had disappeared a few centuries before the Golden Age of Athens, but the whooshing sound remained in the aspiration of the initial omicron. I thought of the digamma when looking at the katakana character ヲ, which represents a "wo" sound. The digamma more closely corresponds to other Mediterranean languages, such as the Arabic و and the Hebrew ו (vav or waw sound; I think the و has no fricative articulation). ... I don't know phonetics. I do enjoy disappearing things in literature, like characters and consonants.

Sprout is the best

Sprout is the best!!!

Marcovaldo, or The seasons in the city

This collection of bucolic stories is amongst my favourite by any author. Calvino's imperturbable hero, the eponymous Marcovaldo, spends some of his time dreamily lost in a fog; some of his time earnestly providing for his impoverished family; and some of this time privately fending for himself. None of these aspects lead to any sort of moral; rather, Calvino uses each of the brief narratives as an episode. The spare writing underscores the quotidian nature of Marcovaldo's life.

I was so engrossed in this book that I missed my stop on the train to work (while reading "The wrong stop"!).

Blue Point Toasted Lager, Smuttynose

Yet more lager: Blue Point Toasted Lager, Smuttynose Portsmouth Lager; and the Smuttynose Old Brown Dog. If I were not so busy dousing myself with Frank's Red Hot I probably would have enjoyed the first two more, but they did admirable and tasty duty fending off horrible burns on my face as I ploughed through a plate-full of allegedly medium-strength chicken wings.

I have recently come to enjoy lager much more, perhaps after a summer of a warm, humid climate; the easygoing taste of an American lager, especially some of the more carefully-made lagers, really does please the palate and the person of an afternoon. The lighter taste also suits the sort of food I ate last night ("bar food", I suppose); lagers do not have the cloying sweet taste of stronger ales, and do not get in the way of fried.

One episode escaped my mind from last night: just as we sat down and were tucking in to the first (for Anna, only) pint, a kerfuffle drew our attention to the door, and we immediately heard the waitress holler "They went to the left!". Indeed they had: a passel of ruffians exited stage right, headed at a high rate of speed to parts unknown. The hefty bartender and manager scrambled after them, and the waitress calmly explained to us that we had witnessed a dine-and-dash — more insultingly, they had also taken food from others' plates. Everyone returned a moment later, and pockets-full of change emptied onto the counter, and the halcyon evening returned.

In which we drink from a Kleinsche Flasche

For many years I was not an adherent of the television program "Futurama", although it fit my "A"-list criteria: animated, amusing. Now that I know how many nurdalicious maths jokes the show has, I am eager to watch it. A Klein bottle has neither inside nor outside; it is a closed, nonorientable surface of Euler characteristic. Legendary sysadmin Cliff Stoll makes these "One sided, boundless, and mathematically nonorientable" bottles for sale, as well as steins after the same fashion; one could indeed drink from a Kleinsche Flasche!

bloviate

The invented word bloviate, from today's Brenda Starr:

boviate has a verbal sense roughly synonymous with blowhard, but I do not know how to compare verbs and nouns in this context.

Manhattan Noir

This anthology features noir stories that have a distinctly Manhattan setting: the Lower East Side, Battery Park City, Inwood. It is part of a burgeoning series from Akashic Books, which wants to "reverse-gentrify the literary world". Ironically, one aspect that many of these stories share is that modern Manhattan is a boring, uniformly-gentrified place. Characters in the stories, just like contemporary bloggers, grumble about the ubiquity of storefront banks, chain-store pharmacies, and name-brand "coffee" shops.

Jeffrey Deaver contributes a riveting story about grifters and cops on the take in Hell's Kitchen. The anthology's editor, Lawrence Block, has a very different (and less gripping) take on the same neighbourhood, which in his story goes by the more gentrified "Clinton". Liz Martínez's story set in Washington Heights feels more like science fiction, not from its setting but from its ham-handed "guardian angel" appearances of actor-who-died-young Freddie Prinze. The stories set in the Lower East Side and in Yorkville are less engaging, despite the gritty promise of these locales. One might think, Yorkville? But after reading the opening of Jonathan Lethem's Motherless Brooklyn, I am eager for more hardboiled stories set in Yorkville. The ambiguous morality typical of noir stories comes across best in Deaver's story, "A Nice Place to Visit", and in Charles Ardai's "The Good Samaritan", which makes excellent use of its Midtown setting.

I'm off to the library to find me some Luc Sante.

On manhole covers

Manholes have long fascinated me, and just a few days ago I noticed a large "Made in India" stamp on a ConEd manhole cover in Midtown. Today, the front page of the New York Times has a stunning photograph of a foundry with neat rows of naked men carrying buckets of molten metal to pour into moulds. The article and its accompanying photographs are stunning, reminiscent of Edward Burtynsky's beautiful industrial landscapes of shipbreaking in Alang. The author and photographer J Adam Huggins narrates a audiovisual slide presentation of his photographs.

The article raises questions about the ethical aspects of contracts between municipal agencies and employers who do not provide even the most basic safety equipment ("We can’t maintain the luxury of Europe and the United States, with all the boots and all that,” said Sunil Modi, director of Shakti Industries. He said, however, that the foundry never had accidents.). I wonder, however, how many of the small pieces that make up our massive municipal machinery come from similar factories spread across Asia, Africa, and South America, where working conditions are not as closely governed or regulated as in the United States?

Several years ago I picked up a copy of Manhole Covers (which you can buy from Amazon), a coffee-table book with lavish over-size photographs of steam-pipe covers, access panels, and all manner of plates that fall under the heading of manhole cover. More recently, a friend gave me a copy of Designs Underfoot: The Art of Manhole Covers in New York City.

Innis & Gunn and Belhaven Scottish Ale

Each of these two Scottish ales has a pleasant, distinct character. The Innis & Gunn is dark and delicious, aged in oak barrels just as a whisky; the Belhaven has a fruity, mild maltiness.
The Innis & Gunn pours smoothly, with almost no head: it has a soapiness, even though that doesn't sound quite complimentary, as it goes into the glass. Its aroma is magnificent.
The Belhaven has a nice thick head, which settles after a moment.

Vuuve / Southampton Double White Ale

The Vuuve, an unfiltered ale, comes from the brouwerij de Regenboog, in Brugge. The label briefly states "Ale Brewed with spices": the beer is a traditional Belgian ale, with coriander and orange peel. I drank this bottle with a cheddar cheese and fresh bread, and suspect that it will go quite nicely with poultry or with something like mac 'n' cheese.

The beer pours with almost no head, and has a delightful auburn color. Compare to the Southampton Double White Ale, which is similarly a traditional, wheaty Belgian ale. It has a lighter, more golden tone; its fruitiness is more subdued, and the beer overall hoppier than the Vuuve.

Bransfield Strait and King George Island (approximately)

A cruise ship foundered and sank in the Bransfield Strait yesterday. Thrilling stuff. The New York Times has this stunning photograph, in which the scene looks surprisingly calm.

The Village of Stepanchikovo

Just a few days after first encountering the word verst, I saw it again on the first page of this short novel by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. Had I read more literature during my high-school years, I surely would have seen this word before -- but this is the first work of his I have read. Modern doctors have diagnosed Fyodor Mikhailovich with epilepsy.

Part of this text is available online; I procured my copy at the local library.

In which politics sound fun, for a change

From the '04 campaign to the premature '08 campaign, not much has changed. Least of all, the food on the trail: fried, deep-fried, or chicken-fried (yum!).

The barbecue, the clambake, the chili contest, the fish fry, the hamburger cookout, the pancake social, the fried-chicken potluck, the spaghetti dinner -- these are the great entrees of American politics precisely because almost anyone can cook them and pretty much everybody likes them. Sure, the exact recipes differ from place to place, like accents, but that's the point. Political food contains the core contradiction of America, our profound differences and essential sameness all on one plate. Nothing puts a politician more at ease than being able to sing our national unity and diversity at the same time. And what says E Pluribus Unum as literally and zestily as a bowl of four-alarm chili?

The candidates are “for all intents and purposes out of control of their diets,” said Walter Scheib, former White House chef to the Clintons and the Bushes. Many big events on the preprimary calendar — the Harkin Steak Fry in Iowa; the Clyburn Fish Fry in South Carolina; the Iowa State Fair, an everything-fry — seem as likely to produce heart attacks as votes.

Those wanting to be president must never, ever refuse or fumble the local specialties, lest they repeat the sins of John Kerry (dismissed as effete when he ordered a Philly cheese steak with Swiss in 2004) or Gerald R. Ford (on a 1976 swing through Texas, he bit into a tamale with the corn husk still on).

That last bit, about Ford -- well, it's just too easy. I was chastised in fourth grade for repeating the bit about walking and chewing gum, which I had probably picked up from my father or from Doonesbury.

Boomsday

Boomsday follows on the heels of Christopher Buckley's amusing Thank You For Smoking, and is itself full of hilarious satire. From the phrase "You can be anyone you want to [in California] , as long as you don't mind being stuck in traffic" to the modest proposal that forms its core.

The heroine comes saddled with a weighty name: Cassandra Devine is a self-taught spin doctor by day, and a revolutionary blogger by night. The revolutionary part comes unexpectedly, as does her sudden prominence in national politics. Abetted by a mischievous Congressman, her adventures become legend. Many of the book's elements reflect or anticipate what one finds in the national newspaper: crushing debt ("stagflation" makes an appearance), numerous and unending wars (the US becomes sends its militia to all nations beginning with 'T'), and unending political campaigns. The high-tech hi-jinks add a nice touch, often at California's expense.

I feel somewhat petty picking on a book for spelling in a second language, but one plot element is that the energetic Congressman speaks French, a by-product of his Yankee upbringing. In one scene mid-way through the book, he is again corrected to speak Spanish rather than French, but the French sentence he was speaking when interrupted had a mis-spelling. (a-propos of mis-spellings, the iPhone corrected my "minutes" with an errant space to "mi urea". Technology! Thou are more temperate, etc. ) This book's lax editing also results in the mis-spelling of the active ingredient in a worn-out saying (Shineola! ha!) and a minor character shifting names over a leaf.

Boomsday brought a smile to my face, and some of its plot twists uncannily reflect the current state of this country. It was not as incisive as Thank You ..., but similarly charming and witty through to the comfortable ending.

Saranac Adirondack Lager

After years of not enjoying lagers, I picked up this bottle of Adirondack Lager because the store around the corner no longer stocks Boddington, that nice cream ale so well suited to an the post-prandial and pre-somnolent portion of the afternoon. The Adirondack is tasty, and the German hops suit it nicely.
My other favourite lager of late is the Samuel Smith Organic Lager.

In which we wrap our noggin around getting our nog on

Some people are getting an early start on nog season (which for me always begins the Wednesday afternoon before Turkey Day, with some of my favourite nog), and forcing a small dairy in Maine to recall their bottled nog:

The FDA notified the Maine Department of Agriculture that all Smiling Hill egg nog on store shelves -- about 400 gallons at that point -- had to be recalled to protect people with egg allergies who don't know there's egg in egg nog.

Chow has a good explanation ofwhy aging eggnog is safe, prompted by what some call the best eggnog recipe ever, handed down over generations.

Scsh Reference Manual

I sometimes think of books I should write. And when I write a book, I will write acknowledgements. "Jack 'n Zac" cocktails indeed.

I am glad that the scsh reference manual is available entirely online, and not only for the laughs and recipes.

St Peter's Winter Ale

A heavy (6.3% ABV), malty ale with a sweet hoppy finish, this is the first "new" ale I have tried from St Peter's in some time. They also have a seasonal spiced ale that I should like to try sometime, with cinnamon and apple in the brew.

Farina Foccacia

The Chronicle has a great article on Farina Focaccia, a cosy and appealing restaurant in The Mission. I stopped in there for dessert and coffee recently -- it was one of few places open and at all decent-looking -- and had a terrific time, from the moment I put my hand on the door handle (once part of the mixing apparatus at Anna's Danish Cookies, formerly on the site of this restaurant) to the ample and delicious selection of sweets.

Il faut réchauffer la colle.

Dreams:

on a train, ordering a drink, en route to the awards ceremony for stickiest glue. The recipient, a friend of mine, had been well-known in our circle for having the stickiest glue, and we were all quite proud for the general recognition this would bring him.

I was ordering a typical Martini, but my seat-mate reminded me that the French do not have the same notion of cocktails, and so I ended up asking the waiter for a glass of chilled gin. He gave me a quizzical look but I imagine that I ended up with what I expected -- I woke up or went to another dream.

Dogfish Head World Wide Stout

An overwhelmingly malty stout, the strong (18% ABV) brew had an over-the-top sweetness from start to finish. I think that a smaller glass would have suited it and me.

Our Lager Which art in barrels Hallowed by thy drink Thy will be drink (I will have drunk) At home as if in tavern Give us this day our foamy head And forgive us our spillages As we forgive those who spill against us And lead us not to incarceration But deliver us from hangovers For thine is the beer, the bitter, the lager For ever and ever

Barmen.
— Anon.

In which it is like science fiction

Designing Tesla coils to play a video-game theme is all sorts of ultra-geeky:

Where's the video of the gas-flame musical instrument?

Boterstraat / Korte Boterstraat

722 Miles

&uotA colleague saw me reading a dog-eared copy of Robert Caro's majestic opus "The Power Broker" and suggested I dig into Clifton Hood's 722 Miles. Similar to Caro's work, Hood focuses on the power wielded by the elite of New York City in his description of the New York City subway's early years.
That the subway managed to come about despite all of the wrangling and financial obstacles -- a major portion was built around the time of the Great Depression -- amazes me.

In which autumn has arrived

Washoe

Washoe, the
first non-human primate to use sign language, died. Roger Fouts wrote an excellent book, Next of Kin, about his work with Washoe.

Donnell Reading Center

The Donnell Reading Center, a NYPL branch library I visit at least weekly, will become a fancy hotel.

Radio, live transmission

Yesterday, at the Computer History Museum:

ABSTRACT OF TALK
A major internet milestone occured on November 22, 1977. On this date the first known three-network transmission took place among SRI International, Menlo Park and the University of Southern California via London, England. The networks involved were the ARPANET, the Bay Area packet radio network, and the Atlantic packet satellite network.

This inter-network transmission among three dissimlar networks is generally regarded as the first true Internet connection. It was also a major milestone in packet radio, the technology behind WiFi and other kinds of wireless internet access.

HOWTO tell if you are a quant

"If you’ve heard of Leonardo Fibonacci and Henri Poincaré, but have never heard of Georgio Armani and Louis Vuitton, you might be a quant."
More witticism from Andrew W. Lo (.pdf link; as HTML here).

In which Portland is Bicycle City, USA

The New York Times has a nice piece on Portland as the City of Bicycles: cycle-friendly streets, trains, and business. Especially intriguing:

"Sam Adams, a city commissioner in charge of transportation, joined development officials to help lure the show to Portland. It seemed a natural fit. The city regularly ranks at the top of Bicycling Magazine’s list of the best cycling cities and has the nation’s highest percentage of workers who commute by bike, about 3.5 percent, according to the Census Bureau. Drivers here are largely respectful of riders, and some businesses give up parking spaces to make way for bike racks."

New York City had a hell of a time getting this going in Williamsburg.

Water for Elephants

I enjoyed reading Sara Gruen's Water for Elephants, but ultimately found it unremarkable. The narrative use of tense (simple past for the action in the present, and present for the events of the past) seems backwards, not only because it shfits the emphasis in an awkward way, but because the unsurprising twist at the end misfires because of the tenses. The story is compelling, even if some of the character interactions make little sense (how do the dwarf and the college kid become fast friends all of a sudden, to the point of sharing custody for the old-timer afflicted with jake's walk.

The Janissary Tree

An exciting premise and a lavish setting set up an interesting thriller, in which the protagonist -- a eunuch -- must untangle a murder, a theft, and an insurrection in 1830s Istanbul. The dialogue and the detail fall short, however, and the foreshadowing leads to our knowing too many details before they should be revealed. Unlike Umberto Eco's "The Name of the Rose" (that pinnacle of achievement in historical thrillers!), neither the literary references nor the setting are put to excellent or hilarious use. The promised interludes of sex and cooking are much less exciting than the reviewer's comments on the flap copy promised, but I have only myself to blame for judging this book by its cover.

I did learn several new words: verst, sumptuary, and gelid; as well as a handful of Byzantine Turkish ranks, such as seraskier.

gelid

gelid comes from Latin gelidus, from gelu, "frost, cold."

gelid \JEH-lid\ "extremely cold, icy"

From Usenet (post itself unattributed, modifications mine): "Gelid" is used in English to describe anything of extremely cold temperature (as in "the gelid waters of the Arctic Ocean"), but the word can also be used figuratively to describe a person with a cold demeanor (as in "the criminal's gelid stare"). "Gelid" first appeared in English late in the 16th century. The related gelatin refers to an edible jelly that undergoes a cooling process as part of its formation, and comes from the verb gelare, "to freeze.")

sumptuary

Sumptuary laws addressed the "... concern was that money spent on frivolous display would be better spent on the state of more important things, such as horses, critical to a society always in peril of the neighbors.
The other concern was that letting anyone wear just anything must lead inexorably to moral decline. If you couldn't tell a milkmaid from a countess at a glance, the very fabric of society might unravel."
Black's Law Dictionary (1999, Sixth Edition, p. 1436) defines them as "Laws made for the purpose of restraining luxury or extravagance, particularly against inordinate expenditures in the matter of apparel, food, furniture, etc."

verst

A verst (Russian versta, верста) is an obsolete Russian unit of length. It is defined as being 500 sazhen long, which makes a verst equal to 3500 feet (1.0668 kilometres). Google Calculator doesn't know about it, even though it can handle factor-label problems.

In which we watch fixie football

Fixie football:

Fixed-gear hijinks previously and more recently.

In which we bike for life (and bus)

Bogota's bus system has been a planning and implementation marvel for a long time, but one aspect that recently impressed me upon reading about it: the integration of bicycles into the system.

"For every 25 people who ride bikes to the terminal," Gil said, "That is one less 'feeder bus' we need to run through the neighborhoods. You do the math and pretty quickly you see it makes financial sense to set aside some space and hire a security guard to help people to ride their bikes."

That's Gil Penalosa of Walk and Bike for Life.