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ent level. A friend in Mount Airy, N.C., recently digested - his verb - Pat Conroy’s “The Prince of Tides.” He stumbled over: minatory, circumvallated, magus, ineluctable, divagation, frissons, cinquefoils, flense, chasubles, runnelled, supererogatory, pixilations, delectating, compline, efflorescing, manumission, numinous, anapests and chinoiserie. Be a book editor. Do you tactfully suggest to Mr. Conroy that some of these out-of-town words come from a little too far out of town?
A few months ago theatergoers in Seattle attended performances of “A Christmas Carol.” The program notes included a compact biography of Dickens and an interesting account of how Dickens came to write the story. He lifted plot and characters from a tale in “Pickwick Papers” of the crusty Gabriel Grub: Misogynistically digging a grave on Christmas Eve, Grub is carred off by goblins...”
Was the adverb qOK for theatergoers in Seattle? Did most of them understand that “misogyny” is a hatred of women? A Midwestern sportswriter had trouble with the word in January. He was criticizing the owners of major league baseball teams for going easy on Marge Schott, owner of the Cincinnate Reds. “Any group that may harbor racist feelings probably are misogamists as well.” Ah, me. “Misogamy” means “hatred of marriage.”
Last month The New York Times carried a piece by its man in London on the poor season experienced this year by theaters in the West End. New and original drama has become the province of the provinces, “while the commercial theater - the heart of the West End - has become increasingly anodyne.”
Now, “andyne” means “not likely to offend or arouse tensions.” The Times’s correspondent used the
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