Dreyer's English

by Benjamin Dreyer

  CROCHET/CROTCHETY/CROTCHET

  To do needlework with a crochet hook is to crochet. Crocheting is not knitting (neither is it tatting, which is the making of lace), and people who do either get peeved, or even crotchety, if you mix them up.

  To be crotchety, then, is to be grouchy, cantankerous, prickly, tetchy.*14

  One’s crotchets are one’s unreasonable notions or one’s eccentric habits. (As well: What we Americans call a quarter note, the Brits call a crotchet; the Brits have all kinds of interesting names for perfectly normal musical things.)

  I note no widespread confusion between a salmon croquette and a game of croquet, so we’ll pass those by.

  CUE/QUEUE

  These two are not so alike in appearance, but confusion between them is, in my experience, on the rise.

  A cue is a signal, as to an actor, to make an entrance, commence a speech, or perform some action. “You sockdologizing old man-trap,” a line in Tom Taylor’s 1858 comedy Our American Cousin, may be the most notorious cue in history, as the audience laughter it inspired was expected by John Wilkes Booth—an actor, but not in this particular play—to smother the sound of his gunshot as he assassinated Abraham Lincoln.

  To cue is to give a cue. To take a cue is to model one’s behavior or actions on someone else’s.

  A queue is a ponytail, often braided, of the sort traditionally worn by, among others, Chinese men. More commonly, a queue is a line of people waiting for something. (Did you know that a line of people walking in pairs is called a crocodile?) A queue is also the lineup of DVDs you have waiting for you at Netflix, if you happen to still watch DVDs.

  To queue, then, is to get in line. This is often phrased “queue up,” which should not be confused with “cue up,” which is to get a thing ready to commence (as, say, a PowerPoint presentation or what older people would call a slide show).

  “Queue” was, not long ago, a terribly British verb, and for Americans to say that they were “queuing up” for this or that was the height of pretension. I’m not certain when the term arrived in the United States, but it certainly seems to have its green card by now.

  DAIRY/DIARY

  You are unlikely to confuse their meanings; you may well confuse them while typing. Nuff, as they say, said.

  DEFUSE/DIFFUSE

  To defuse is, literally, to remove a fuse, as from a bomb, to keep it from blowing up. Figuratively, if you’re trying to calm down a roomful of ornery people, you’re defusing a thorny situation.

  The adjective “diffuse” means unconcentrated (as, say, “diffuse settlements in a vast territory”). As a verb it means “to spread” (as air freshener may diffuse, or be diffused, through a room).

  DEMUR/DEMURE/DEMURRAL

  To demur is to voice opposition or objection; perhaps because the word, spoken, makes a gentle burring noise (or perhaps because it looks like “demure”), it’s often used to suggest polite opposition.

  “Demur” is also a noun, as one may accept someone else’s decision without demur (or, if you prefer, demurral). “Demur” and “demurral” also carry a less frequently used meaning: delay.

  To be demure is to be modest or reserved.

  DESCENDANT/DESCENDENT

  Use the former as a noun, for progeny and progeny’s progeny; use the latter as an adjective to describe said progenies, or to describe something moving downward.

  Each is occasionally, and unhelpfully, defined as meaning the other.

  (Vastly more often than not, you want the former. The latter rarely shows up.)

  DESERT/DESSERT

  Most of us can correctly discern between a desert (that hot and dry place) and a dessert (that sweet and soul-satisfying complement to one’s meal).

  Many go wrong in their attempt to haul out the venerable*15 phrase referring to people receiving their comeuppance. Such people are getting not their “just desserts” but their just deserts—they are getting precisely what they deserve.

  Though if a few of us drop by a restaurant with the sole intention of enjoying a couple of slices of pie and a goblet of chocolate mousse, we may surely be said to be receiving just desserts.

  DISASSOCIATE/DISSOCIATE

  They mean the same thing—sever—and they showed up in English around the same time. For reasons I can’t discern, “disassociate” gets a lot of rocks thrown at it; I can’t say that it bothers me. If you’re aware of the psychological meaning of dissociation—a separation from reality that occurs in crisis—you may come to think of “disassociation” as better suited to more everyday severances, as, say, disassociating oneself from an offensive statement made by one’s racist uncle at Thanksgiving dinner.

  DISCREET/DISCRETE

  Discreet people possess discretion; they kiss but don’t tell. They are circumspect, chary, and wary.

  This thing over here and that thing over there are discrete—separate and distinct—things.

  “Discreet” and “discrete” are often mixed up, not only but particularly by the authors of frisky personal ads.

  EEK/EKE

  “Eek!” is what you exclaim when you see a mouse.

  To eke (as in “to eke out a living”) is to secure something with difficulty and, as a rule, barely. I suppose one could, feigning fright, eke out an eek.

  EMIGRATE/IMMIGRATE

  One emigrates from a place; one immigrates to a place. My paternal grandfather emigrated from Latvia; he immigrated to the United States. The terms are used to describe movement from one nation or continent to another; one does not, say, emigrate from Chicago to New York, or even from Chicago to Paris.

  EMINENT/IMMINENT/IMMANENT

  To be eminent is to be renowned, famous.

  To be imminent is to be on the way and arriving any moment now.

  To be immanent is to be inherent—built in, so to speak. One most frequently, when at all, sees the term applied to constitutional rights and the existence and influence of God.

  ENVELOP/ENVELOPE

  “Envelop” is the verb, as in to surround or encompass, “envelope” the noun, as in the paper doohickey into which one puts a letter.

  EPIGRAM/EPIGRAPH

  An epigram is a succinct, smart, and, as a rule, humorous statement, of the sort Oscar Wilde used to toss about like Ritz crackers to stray ducks. For instance, from the irresistibly quotable The Importance of Being Earnest: “All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That’s his.”

  An epigraph is an evocative quotation—rarely humorous but generally succinct—set at the beginning of a book, often immediately after the dedication, or at the beginning of a chapter.

  EVERYDAY/EVERY DAY

  “Everyday” is an adjective (“an everyday occurrence”), “every day” an adverb (“I go to work every day”).

  “Everyday” is increasingly often being used as an adverb; this is highly bothersome, and please don’t you dare speed up the trend.

  EVOKE/INVOKE

  To evoke is to call to mind, as the smell of coconut or rum (or coconut and rum) may evoke a fondly remembered tropical vacation or the ghost stories of a present-day horror writer may be said to evoke those of Edith Wharton or M. R. James.*16

  To invoke is to summon in actual practice, as a warlock invokes demons to destroy his enemy, or to call upon for protection or assistance, as one invokes one’s Fifth Amendment right to remain silent and avoid self-incrimination.

  To put it as simply as I can, if you confine evoking to the figurative and invoking to the actual, you’ll do fine.

  EXERCISE/EXORCISE

  Not, truth to tell, a lot of confusion abounding between that which one does at the gym and that which one does to demons, but:

  If you are agitated and worked up about something, you are not exorcised but exercised.

  FARTHER/FURTHER

 
As a rule, or at least what passes for a rule, “farther” is reserved for literal physical distance (“I’m so exhausted, I can’t take a step farther”) and “further” is used figuratively, as a measure of degree or time (“Later this afternoon we can discuss this weighty matter further”).

  In the face of ambiguity, go with “further.” Our friends the Brits alleviate the ambiguity by mostly using “further” for everything.

  FAUN/FAWN

  A faun is a mythical creature, part man and part goat, a less intimidating version of a satyr.

  A fawn is a young deer; fawn is also a pale yellow-brown color.

  To fawn is to be obsequious in a quest for favor, to apple-polish, to bootlick, to suck up.

  FAZE/PHASE

  To faze is to bother, or to disturb, or to discompose, as someone is fazed by the prospect of speaking in public.

  A phase is a stage of development, as a child may go through a phase of refusing to eat vegetables; to phase is to perform an action over time, as in phasing out outmoded textbooks.

  FERMENT/FOMENT

  One ferments (alcoholizes) beer or wine; one foments (stirs up) discord. That said, one’s anger can ferment, and an agitated group of people can be described as being in a state of ferment.

  The use of the verb “ferment” as a synonym for the verb “foment” agitates many people; it cannot, however, be said to be incorrect. Sorry, agitated people.

  FICTIONAL/FICTITIOUS

  “Fictional” describes the nature of works of imaginative art and their constituent parts. The characters in a novel are fictional.

  “Fictitious” describes something not in imaginative art that is made up. The dead grandmother you concocted in fifth grade to get out of school on a test day was, may she rest in peace, fictitious.

  FLACK/FLAK

  A flack is a press agent. Flak is antiaircraft weaponry and, especially, the gunfire propelled therefrom.

  If you’re being roundly criticized, you’re catching not flack but flak.

  FLAIL/FLAY/FLOG

  To flail is to wave about wildly, as a drowning man might flail his arms; to flail is also to wallop. The verb relates to a noun: A flail is a threshing tool, a longer staff with a shorter stick loosely attached to it that gets swung about. It’s the other thing you see pharaohs holding in paintings and sculpture—the one that doesn’t look like a shepherd’s crook—and it’s also the shiversome stick-with-spiky-metal-balls-attached medieval weapon.

  As verbs of punishment, “flail” and “flog” are given as synonyms, though to me the former evokes the stick and the latter the whip. Whatever the terms evoke for you is your own business.

  To flay, on the other hand, is to peel or tear the skin off something or someone, or to do that sort of thing figuratively, as, say, with words.

  FLAIR/FLARE

  The former is a knack (as, say, a flair for the dramatic) or stylishness (as someone dresses with flair); the latter is a burst of light or flame, an emergency signal, or a widening, as of one’s bell-bottom trousers.

  FLAUNT/FLOUT

  To flaunt is to show off: yourself or some thing. Wealth and power are popularly flaunted.

  To flout is to show contempt for or to defy; the word seems to be more or less permanently attached to either “the law” or “the rules.”

  FLESH OUT/FLUSH OUT

  To flesh out is to add substance, as one fleshes out a business proposal by offering substantive details of intended action.

  To flush out is to clean something by forcing water through it, as one flushes out a wound, or to expose something or someone by forcing it out of hiding, as one might use a smoke bomb to flush out a gang of criminals holed up in their lair.

  FLIER/FLYER

  A flier is a person or thing that flies. When it comes to pieces of paper you don’t want handed to you by people whose causes you’re not interested in, some opt for “flier” and some for “flyer.” I suggest reserving “flier” for the soaring-in-the-air thing and “flyer” for the sheet of paper heading imminently into the recycle bin.

  If you’re risking something, you may be said to be taking either a flyer or a flier. I, with no particular reason in mind, would go with the former (which is slightly more popular in print).

  FLOUNDER/FOUNDER

  To flounder is to struggle clumsily; to founder is to sink or to fail. Floundering may precede foundering; thus the terms are sometimes confused.

  FORBEAR/FOREBEAR

  To forbear is to refrain from doing something, as one may forbear from eating chocolate during Lent, or to exhibit self-control in the face of difficulty (thus to demonstrate forbearance).

  One’s forebears are one’s ancestors.*17

  FOREGO/FORGO

  To forego is to precede.

  To forgo is to do without.

  FOREWORD/FORWARD

  A foreword is an introductory section of a book; the term is generally used to refer to a brief essay written by someone other than the book’s principal author.*18

  Forward is a direction: not backward. It’s also an adjective often applied to children, suggesting bratty presumptuousness, or to people getting above their station or being aggressive (often sexually).

  GANTLET/GAUNTLET

  A gauntlet is a kind of glove, particularly useful for hurling to the ground in challenge when mortally insulted, or for picking up to accept such a challenge.

  If you’re forced to make your way between two parallel lines of people armed with clubs who are intent on thrashing the living daylights out of you and you don’t have the option to sprint like hell in the opposite direction, you are running either the gantlet or the gauntlet, depending upon whom you ask. I’m a “gauntlet” fellow. I find the very sight of “gantlet” fussy and prissy, as if those two lines of assailants are raring to smack you around with doilies.

  GEL/JELL

  A gel is a jelly; it is also a transparent colored sheet, usually made of plastic, used in stage lighting.

  When Jell-O sets, or when one’s master plan takes shape, it either gels or jells. I like “jells.”

  GIBE/JIBE/JIVE

  There’s a lot of etymological muddiness here, but you’ll be on solid ground if you use “gibe” to mean (as a noun) a sneering taunt or (as a verb) to deride, and “jibe” to mean agree with or align.

  The periodically encountered use of “jive” to mean “jibe” (“I’m so pleased that our plans for the weekend jive”) is unsupportable, etymologically or any other -ly.

  GRAVELY/GRAVELLY

  “Gravely” is an adverb denoting seriousness, as one may become gravely ill.

  “Gravelly” is an adjective characterizing a collection of pebbles and other bits of rock, as in a gravelly road, or roughness, as in a raspy, gravelly voice.

  GRISLY/GRISTLY/GRIZZLY/GRIZZLED

  Gory crimes are grisly.

  Tough meat is gristly.

  Some bears are grizzly.

  Mistaken references to “grizzly crimes” (unless committed by actual bears, in which case OK) are extremely popular, always good for a chuckle, and to be avoided strenuously.

  “Grizzled” refers to hair streaked with gray—and, by extension, it makes a decent synonym for “old.” It does not mean, as many people seem to think it does, either unkempt or rugged.

  HANGAR/HANGER

  One puts a plane in a hangar.

  One hangs a coat on a hanger.

  The underappreciated cut of beef found suspended*19 from a cow’s diaphragm is hanger steak.

  HANGED/HUNG

  Criminals are hanged.

  Paintings are hung. Some. Also men. Some.

  HARDY/HEARTY

  Hardy people are able to cope with hardship; they are plucky, doughty, intrepid, indomitable.

  Hearty people have a lot of hear
t; they are spirited and ebullient and cheerful, often in a loud, demonstrative, and irritating fashion.

  A rich, nourishing soup or stew is hearty.

  HAWK/HOCK

  Verbwise, to hawk (outside discussion of birds, that is) is to sell and to hock is to pawn.

  As to loogies, you may either (traditionally) hawk them or (popularly) hock them.

  To hork, should you need to know this, is to vomit or to…well, there are a few other definitions, most of them disgusting.

  HISTORIC/HISTORICAL

  “Historic” denotes significance, as the passing of the Civil Rights Act was a historic event.

  “Historical” simply denotes presence in the past.