Discombobulate

Discombobulate (pronounced dis-kuhm-bob-yuh-leyt)

To confuse or disconcert; upset; frustrate.

The most frequently used derived forms appear to be the verbs (used with object), discombobulated & discombobulating.  Discombobulation is the noun and discombobulated the adjective.

1834: An Americanism, one of a number of fanciful creations which were coined during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, mostly mock-Latin, discombobulate presumably a whimsical alteration of a blend of discompose or discomfit, the implied meaning “to confuse; to frustrate”.  It was an alteration of the equally fake discombobricate & discombobracated, first attested in the early 1800s and driven extinct by its usurper; the other spellings from the era (discombulate & discomboberate) never gained traction and etymologists assume discombobulate prevailed because it offered the easier pronunciation.  The US school of mock-Latin and other creations, believed associated with students at the better universities of the era, included confusticate (confound & confuse), absquatulate (run away; make off), spifflicate (confound; beat), scrumplicate (eat), bloviate (to speak or discourse at length in a pompous or boastful manner) & blustrification (the act of celebrating boisterously).

Lindsay Lohan looking discombobulated, New York City, 2014.  The bag is Givenchy’s Disney-inspired Antigona Bambi tote from Riccardo Tisci’s (b 1974) Autumn-Winter 2013 collection.

Because the English vocabulary offers so many easy ways to say much the same thing as the five-syllable discombobulate (befuddle, bewilder, confound, disconcert, fluster, addle, baffle, disturb, frustrate, fuddle, muddle, perplex, puzzle, ruffle, throw, upset, mix up etc), all became more popular.  Discombobulate was rare and indeed sometimes listed as extinct until revived in the early twenty-first century when it became a frequent addition to the lists of interesting, neglected or bizarre words which flourished as the world wide web gained the internet a critical mass, the American Dialect Society in 2009 naming it the most creative word of the year which might not have been the most appropriate category given the creation dated from 1834 but one could see what they meant.  Since, it’s found a niche, perhaps helped by the age of pandemic to which it seems well-suited.

Recombobulation Area, Mitchell Airport terminal, Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

It hasn’t (yet) spawned derivatives; there’s no indication the happily contented are describing themselves as “combobulated” any more than they self-label as "gruntled" but for some years Mitchell airport in Milwaukee has provided in the terminal, a “Recombobulation Area” where passengers can gather their thoughts and recover from whatever ghastly experience they’ve just suffered.  Given the nature of modern air travel, it seems a good idea.

Perpendicular

Perpendicular (pronounced pur-puhn-dik-yuh-ler)

(1) Vertical; straight up and down; upright; normal at right angles to a horizontal plane.

(2) In geometry, meeting a given line or surface at right angles.

(3) Maintaining a standing or upright position; standing up; exactly upright; extending in a straight line toward the centre of the earth, etc.

(4) In architecture, noting or pertaining to the last style of English Gothic, prevailing from the late fourteenth to the early sixteenth centuries and characterized by by stiff, rectilinear lines and the use of predominantly vertical tracery, an overall linear, shallow effect, depressed or four-centre arch, fan-tracery vaulting, panelled walls and fine intricate stonework (should be used with an initial capital letter so it’s not confused with being a purely geometric reference).

(5) In rock-climbing, a sharply pitched or precipitously steep mountain face.

(6) Moral virtue or uprightness; rectitude (largely obsolete).

(7) In Admiralty jargon, either of two lines perpendicular to the keel line, base line, or designed water line of a vessel.

(8) In surveying, a device such as a plumb line that is used in making or marking a perpendicular line.

(9) In historic slang, a meal taken while standing at the bar of a tavern (obsolete).

1350–1400: From the Middle French perpendiculaire, from the Old French perpendiculer, from the Latin perpendiculāris (vertical, as a plumb line), the construct being perpendicul(um) (plumb line), from pendēre (to weigh hang) and perpendere (carefully to balance (the construct of which was per- (thoroughly) + pendēre (to hang, cause to hang; to weigh)) from the primitive Indo-European root spen & pen (to draw, stretch, spin) + āris.  The suffix -aris was a form of -ālis with dissimilation of -l- to -r- after roots containing an l (the alternative forms were -ālis, -ēlis, -īlis & -ūlis); it was used to form adjectives, usually from noun, indicating a relationship or a "pertaining to”.  The French borrowing replaced the Middle English perpendiculer(e) and is the source of the modern pendant.  The noun from existed from the 1570s (the earlier noun was the circa 1400 perpendicle) and in astronomy, navigation and related matters, it was in the late fifteenth century the sense of a line "lying at right angles to the horizon" developed from an earlier adverb referring to "at right angles to the horizon.

The noun perpensity (consideration, a pondering, careful attention) appears first to have been used in the early eighteenth century, the construct being the Latin perpens- (past-participle stem of perpendere (carefully to balance) and has since the late nineteenth century been listed either as archaic or obsolete.  Perpendicular is a noun and adjective, perpendicularness & perpendicularity are nouns and perpendicularly is an adverb; the noun plural is perpendiculars.  Although perpendicular describes what nominally is an absolute value, most dictionaries acknowledge the comparative more as perpendicular & the superlative as most perpendicular, reflecting the use of the word to describe also the “quality of that which tends towards”, hence the existence in geometry, mathematics, architecture & engineering of the presumably helpful adjective quasiperpendicular to refer to the mysterious “partially perpendicular”.

In audio engineering, a perpendicular recording is the technique of creating magnetic data storage using vertical as opposed to longitudinal magnetization.  The synonym used in a technical context is orthogonal (independent of or irrelevant to each other).  To most, the idea of the perpendicular is simple but it’s been borrowed to describe some complex concepts such as the perpendicular universe (though these perhaps by definition seem usually to be referred to in the plural as perpendicular universes) which exists to distinguish it from a parallel universe (which must in some way be different).  The perpendicular universe is thus one of the competing notions (some insist these are legitimate theories) of multiple universes which are in some way parallel (as opposed to sequential or circular) though not of necessity perpendicular.  Seems clear enough.

The Perpendicular Pronoun:  The first-person singular pronoun "I"

There is a general rule defining when to use “I” or “me” in a sentence and that is the first person singular pronoun is “I” when it’s a subject and “me” when it’s an object (the subject is the person or thing doing something, and the object is having something done to it and the often quoted example to illustrate the difference is the sentence “I love you”.  “I” is the subject of the sentence. “You” is the object of the sentence (also the object of one's affection).

Lindsay Lohan and her sister Aliana at the Melbourne Cup, 2019.

In most cases it’s easier to deconstruct the sentence than think about the rule.  To work if one should say (1) “Lindsay and I are going to the Melbourne Cup” or (2) “Lindsay and me are going to the Melbourne Cup”, deconstruction confirms (1) is correct because “I am going to the Melbourne Cup” works and “Me is going to The Melbourne Cup” does not.  That’s fine but because “me” is often wrongly used, something of a perception has evolved to suggest it must always be wrong and “I” must always be correct. However, everything depends on the sentence.  It’s correct to say “Lindsay and I both picked the winning horse” but it’s also right to say “A selfie of the winning horse with Lindsay and me”, something which can be checked by redacting either “Lindsay and” or “and me”.

Lindsay Lohan in Falling for Christmas (Netflix, 2022)

Modern English use has anyway actually banished the perpendicular pronoun from places where once it was a marker of the educated.  To say “It is I” remains supported by historic grammatical correctness but sounds now so strange (because the common form is “It’s me”) that many would it’s wrong.  Pedants fret over things like this but the world has moved on and if in answer to the question “Is that you Ali” the response came “This is she”, the antiquated correctness might discombobulate one while “It’s me” would not.

Blazon

Blazon (pronounced bley-zuhn)

(1) In heraldry, an escutcheon or coat of arms or a banner depicting a coat of arms.

(2) In heraldry, a description (verbal or written or in an image) of a coat of arms.

(3) In heraldry, a formalized language for describing a coat of arms (the heraldic description of armorial bearings).

(4) An ostentatious display, verbal or otherwise.

(5) A description or recording (especially of the good qualities of a person or thing).

(6) In literature, verses which dwelt upon and described various parts of a woman's body (usually in admiration). 

(7) Conspicuously or publicly to set forth; display; proclaim.

(8) To adorn or embellish, especially brilliantly or showily.

(9) To depict (heraldic arms or the like) in proper form and color.

(10) To describe a coat of arms.

1275-1300: From the late thirteenth century Middle English blazon (armorial bearings, coat of arms), from the twelfth century Old French blason (shield, blazon (also “collar bone”).  Of the words in the Romance languages (the Spanish blason, Italian blasone, Portuguese brasao & Provençal blezo, the first two are said to be French loan-words and the origins of all remain uncertain.  According to the OED (Oxford English Dictionary), the suggestion by nineteenth century French etymologists of connections with Germanic words related to English blaze is dubious because of the sense disparities.  The verb blazon (to depict or paint (armorial bearings) dates from the mid sixteenth century and was either (or both) from the noun or the French blasonner (from the French noun).  In English, it had earlier in the 1500s been used to mean “descriptively to set forth; descriptively” especially (by at least the 1530s) specifically “to vaunt or boast” and in that sense it was probably at least influenced by the English blaze.  Blazon & blazoning are nouns & verbs, blazoner, blazonry & blazonment are nouns and blazoned & blazonable are adjectives; the noun plural is blazons.

A coat of arms, possibly of dubious provenance. 

The now more familiar verb emblazon (inscribe conspicuously) seems first to have been used around the 1590s in the sense of “extol” and the still common related forms (emblazoning; emblazoned) emerged almost simultaneously.  The construct of emblazon was en- +‎ blazon (from the Old French blason (in its primary sense of “shield”).  The en- prefix was from the Middle English en- (en-, in-), from the Old French en- (also an-), from the Latin in- (in, into).  It was also an alteration of in-, from the Middle English in-, from the Old English in- (in, into), from the Proto-Germanic in (in).  Both the Latin & Germanic forms were from the primitive Indo-European en (in, into).  The intensive use of the Old French en- & an- was due to confluence with Frankish intensive prefix an- which was related to the Old English intensive prefix -on.  It formed a transitive verb whose meaning is to make the attached adjective (1) in, into, (2) on, onto or (3) covered.  It was used also to denote “caused” or as an intensifier.  The prefix em- was (and still is) used before certain consonants, notably the labials “b” & “p”.

Google ngram: It shouldn’t be surprising there seems to have been a decline in the use of “blazon” while “emblazoned” has by comparison, in recent decades, flourished.  That would reflect matters of heraldry declining in significance, their appearance in printed materials correspondingly reduced in volume.  However, because of the way Google harvests data for their ngrams, they’re not literally a tracking of the use of a word in society but can be usefully indicative of certain trends, (although one is never quite sure which trend(s)), especially over decades.  As a record of actual aggregate use, ngrams are not wholly reliable because: (1) the sub-set of texts Google uses is slanted towards the scientific & academic and (2) the technical limitations imposed by the use of OCR (optical character recognition) when handling older texts of sometime dubious legibility (a process AI should improve).  Where numbers bounce around, this may reflect either: (1) peaks and troughs in use for some reason or (2) some quirk in the data harvested.

Self referential emblazoning: Lindsay Lohan's selfie of her modeling a sweater by Ashish, her visage emblazoned in sequins, London, November 2014.

Impressionistically though this assumption is, few would doubt “blazon” is now rare while “emblazoned” is far from uncommon.  While “emblazon” began with the meaning “that which the emblazoner does” (ie (1) to adorn with prominent, (2) to inscribe upon and (3) to draw a coat of arms) it evolved by the mid-nineteenth century with the familiar modern sense of “having left in the mind a vivid impression” (often in the form “emblazoned on one’s memory”).  In English, there’s nothing unusual in a derived or modified form of a word becoming common than its original root, even to the point the where the original is rendered rare, unfamiliar or even obsolete, a phenomenon due to changes in usage patterns, altered conventions in pronunciation or shifts in meaning that make the derived form more practical or culturally resonant.  That’s just how English evolves.

Other examples include (1) ruthless vs. ruth (ruth (pity; compassion) was once a common noun in Middle English but has long been extinct while ruthless, there being many who demand the description, remains popular), (2) unkempt vs kempt (kempt (neatly kept) would have been listed as extinct were it not for it finding a niche as a literary and poetic form and has also been used humorously or ironically), (3) disheveled vs sheveled (sheveled was from the Old French chevelé (having hair) and was part of mainstream vocabulary as late as the eighteenth century but, except in jocular use, is effectively non-existent in modern English) and (4) redolent vs dolent (redolent (evocative of; fragrant) was from dolent (sorrowful), from the Latin dolere (to feel pain)); redolent both outlived and enjoyed a meaning-shift from its root.

Etymologists think of these as part of the linguistic fossil record, noting there’s no single reason for the phenomenon beyond what survives being better adapted to cultural or conversational needs.  In that, these examples differ from the playful fork of back-formation which has produced (1) combobulate (a back-formation from discombobulate (to confuse or disconcert; to throw into a state of confusion) which was a humorous mock-Latin creation in mid-nineteenth century US English) (2) couth (a nineteenth century back-formation from uncouth and used as a humorous form meaning “refined”), (3) gruntled (a twentieth century back-formation meaning “happy or contented; satisfied”, the source being disgruntled (unhappy; malcontented) and most sources indicate it first appeared in print in 1926 but the most celebrated example comes from PG Wodehouse (1881–1975) who in The Code of the Woosters (1938) penned: “He spoke with a certain what-is-it in his voice, and I could see that, if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled.”  Long a linguistic joke, some now take gruntled seriously but for the OED remains thus far unmoved and (4) ept (a back-formation from inept (not proficient; incompetent or not competent (there is a functional difference between those two)) which was from the Middle French inepte, from the Latin ineptus).

Literary use

In literary use, “blazon” was a technical term used by the Petrarchists (devotes of Francis Petrarch (1304-1374), a scholar & poet of the early Italian Renaissance renowned for his love poems & sonnets and regarded also as one of the earliest humanists).  Blazon in this context (a subset of what literary theorists call “catalogue verse”) was adopted because, like the structured and defined elements of heraldic symbolism, Petrarch’s poems contained what might be thought an “inventory” of verses which dwelt upon and detailed the various parts of a woman's body; a sort of catalogue of her physical attributes.  Petrarch’s approach wasn’t new because as a convention in lyric poetry it was well-known by the mid thirteenth century, most critics crediting the tradition to the writings of Geoffrey of Vinsauf, a figure about whom little is although it’s believed he was born in Normandy.  In England the Elizabethan sonneteers honed the technique as a devotional device, often, in imaginative ways, describing the bits of their mistresses they found most pleasing, a classic example a fragment from Amoretti and Epithalamion (1595), a wedding day ode by the English poet Edmund Spenser (circa 1552-1599) to his bride (Elizabeth Boyle) in 1594:

Her goodly eyes like sapphires shining bright.
Her forehead ivory white,
Her cheeks like apples which the sun hath rudded,
Her lips like cherries charming men to bite,
Her breast like to a bowl of cream uncrudded,
Her paps like lilies budded,
Her snowy neck like to a marble tower,
And all her body like a palace fair.

Two bowls of cream uncrudded.

So objectification of the female form is nothing new and the poets saw little wrong with plagiarism, most of the imagery summoned salvaged from the works of Antiquity by elegiac Roman and Alexandrian Greek poets.  Most relied for their effect on brevity, almost always a single, punchy line and none seem ever to attempt the scale of the “epic simile”.  As can be imagined, the novelty of the revival didn’t last and the lines soon were treated by readers (some of whom were fellow poets) as clichés to be parodied (a class which came to be called “contrablazon”), the London-based courtier Sir Philip Sidney (1554–1586) borrowing from the Italian poet Francesco Berni (1497–1535) the trick of using terms in the style of Petrarch but “mixing them up”, thus creating an early form of body dysmorphia: Mopsa's forehead being “jacinth-like”, cheeks of “opal”, twinkling eyes “bedeckt with pearl” and lips of “sapphire blue”.

William Shakespeare (1564–1616) however saw other possibilities in the blazon and in Sonnet 130 (1609) turned the idea on its head, listing the imperfections in her body parts and characteristics yet concluding, despite all that, he anyway adored her like no other (here rendered in a more accessible English):

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
   And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
   As any she belied with false compare.

Gruntle

Gruntle (pronounced gruhn-tl)

Happy or contented; satisfied (informal; non-standard).

1500s: A frequentative of grunt.  Grunt was from the Middle English grunten, from the Old English grunnettan (to grunt (and a probably imitative frequentative of grunian (to grunt)), from the Proto-West Germanic grunnattjan, from the Proto-Germanic grunnatjaną (to grunt), frequentative of the Proto-Germanic grunnōną (to grunt), from the primitive Indo-European ghrun- (to shout).  It was cognate with the Old High German grunnizon, the German grunzen (to grunt), the Old French grogner & the Latin grunnire (to grunt) and the Danish grynte (to grunt) and the noun senses are all instances of zero derivation from the verb.

The noun emerged in the 1550s, from the verb.  The name for the fish (now used for any fish of the perciform family Haemulidae dates from 1713 and was so-called because of the noise they made when taken from the water while “grunter” (a pig) was first noted in the 1640s).  The meaning "infantry soldier or enlisted Marine" became US military slang during Vietnam War in the 1960s (and was first noted in print in 1969) although it had been applied to various low-level (and not necessarily manual) workers since early in the twentieth century, the phrase “grunt work” dating from 1977.  Grunt in the sense of horsepower dates from the early 1960s, the first use in print of “grunt machine” noted in 1973.  The dessert of steamed berries and dough (usually blueberries) described as grunt is from North America and exists usually as “blueberry grunt”; “raspberry grunt etc” (although the use takes no account of blackberries, mulberries, and raspberries not actually being berries whereas bananas, pumpkins, avocados & cucumbers are).

Lindsay Lohan looking gruntled.

The more familiar forms are disgruntle (verb), disgruntled (verb & adjective), disgruntling (verb & (occasional) adjective) and disgruntlement (noun) and all reference the sense of “to put into a state of sulky dissatisfaction; make discontented”.  Disgruntle dates from circa 1682, the construct being dis- + gruntle.  The dis prefix was from the Middle English dis-, from the Old French des from the Latin dis, from the proto-Italic dwis, from the primitive Indo-European dwís and cognate with the Ancient Greek δίς (dís) and the Sanskrit द्विस् (dvis).  It was applied variously as an intensifier of words with negative valence and to render the senses “incorrect”, “to fail (to)”, “not” & “against”.  In Modern English, the rules applying to the dis prefix vary and when attached to a verbal root, prefixes often change the first vowel (whether initial or preceded by a consonant/consonant cluster) of that verb. These phonological changes took place in Latin and usually do not apply to words created (as in Modern Latin) from Latin components since the language was classified as “dead”.  The combination of prefix and following vowel did not always yield the same change and these changes in vowels are not necessarily particular to being prefixed with dis (ie other prefixes sometimes cause the same vowel change (con; ex)).

Lindsay Lohan looking disgruntled.

The verb disgruntle, dating from circa 1682, means "to put into a state of sulky dissatisfaction".  Because the prefix dis- usually means "to do the opposite of", it’s not unreasonable to assume there must first have been the word “gruntle” meaning “happy or contented; satisfied” but there are cases where the prefix operates as an intensifier (in this case in the sense of “utterly” or “completely”) and this was the path of disgruntle, an extension of gruntle which in English use meant "to grumble" and, grumbling being a noted characteristic of the English, it had some history of use, the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) listing a 1589 sermon by Robert Bruce of Kinnaird (1554–1631) in which he uttered ''It becomes us not to have our hearts here gruntling upon this earth”.  Use however faded while disgruntled flourished and although the original OED (1884) noting it was “now chiefly US), a view unaltered by 1933 when the Shorter OED (SOED) was published.  Since then however it’s been revived elsewhere and is now a common form throughout the English-speaking world; given the nature of the human condition, most expect it to endure.

The unexpected re-appearance of gruntle in the twentieth century in the sense of “happy or contented; satisfied” (ie an antonym both of the original meaning and of disgruntle) was thus not a revival of something obsolete but a jocular back-formation from disgruntle, most sources indicating the first known instance in print being from 1926 but the most celebrated example comes from PG Wodehouse (1881–1975) who in The Code of the Woosters (1938) penned: “He spoke with a certain what-is-it in his voice, and I could see that, if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled.”  Long a linguistic joke, some now take gruntled seriously but for the OED to acknowledge that, we may have to wait decades although the editors were quick to verify couth as a late nineteenth century back-formation from uncouth.

The precedent of back-formation has inspired many and other suggestions have included whelmed (from overwhelmed (underwhelmed another more recent coining)), fused (from confused), plexed (from perplexed), fuddling (from befuddling), settling (from unsettling), molish (from demolish), concerting (from disconcerting), wildered (from bewildered), stitious (from superstitious), shevled (from dishevled), gusting (from disgusting), tracted (from distracted) & juvenate (from rejuvenate).  Combobulate (from discombobulate) seems often also longed for but progress there has begun for in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, one can recombobulate.

Spiced Blueberry Grunt by Carolyn Beth Weil

Seemingly an unpromising name for a pudding, Grunts get their quirky name from the fruit which is topped with dumplings and cooked on the stove in a covered skillet, a method which can produce a grunting sound as things steam.  The molasses adds sweetness and depth of flavor.

Ingredients (filling)

4 cups fresh blueberries (from four ½-pint containers)
½ cup (packed) golden brown sugar
¼ cup mild-flavored (light) molasses
¼ cup water
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
2 teaspoons finely grated lemon peel
¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg
¼ teaspoon ground cloves

Ingredients (Dumplings)

1 ½ cups all purpose flour
2 tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
¾ teaspoon fine sea salt
3 tablespoons chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/4-inch cubes
¾ cup whole milk
Whipped cream and/or vanilla ice cream for topping

Step 1 (prepare filling)

Mix all ingredients in 12-inch-diameter skillet. Bring to boil over medium-high heat, stirring until sugar dissolves. Reduce heat to medium; simmer until berries soften and mixture thickens slightly, about 10 minutes.

Step 2 (prepare dumplings)

Whisk flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in medium bowl to blend. Add butter and rub in with fingertips until mixture resembles fine meal. Add milk; stir just until blended and sticky dough forms.

Step 3 (cooking & serving)

Drop batter by tablespoonfuls onto simmering berry mixture, placing close together. Reduce heat to medium-low; cover skillet and simmer until dumplings are firm and tester inserted into dumplings comes out clean, about 25 minutes. Scoop warm dessert into bowls and top with whipped cream and/or ice cream.

Dubiety

Dubiety (pronounced doo-bahy-i-tee or dyoo-bahy-i-tee)

(1) Doubtfulness; doubt; the state of being doubtful.

(2) A matter of doubt; a doubtful matter; a particular instance of doubt or uncertainty.

1740s: From the Late Latin dubietās (doubt; uncertainty), a dissimilation of dubiitās, the construct being dubi(us)  (vacillating, fluctuating (and figuratively “wavering in opinion, doubting”) + -etās  (the noun suffix, a variant of -itās (after vocalic stems)).  The earlier form dubiosity was in use by the 1640s and dubiousness had emerged within a decade; for whatever reason, “dubiety” declined while “dubious” flourished and endures to this day.  Dubiety, dubitation, dubiosity & dubitability are nouns, dubitable is an adjective and dubitably is an adverb; the noun plural is dubieties.

Dubiety is one of those words which has become vanishingly rare while its antonym forms (indubitably, indubitable, indubitability, indubitableness, indubitability, indubitation, indubiosity) meaning “clearly true; providing no possibility of doubt; In a manner that leaves no possibility of doubt; undoubtedly) have survived in a niche, that being a deliberately humorous interjection (although, used unwisely, it tends to be thought pretentious).  The most common form is the adverb “indubitably” a word in use since the early seventeenth century and it differs from other jocular coinings in that it was wholly organic, unlike “combobulate” and “gruntle” which were respectively nineteenth & twentieth century back-formations from discombobulate (itself fanciful) & disgruntled (although “gruntle” had a long history in another context). 

Henry Fowler’s list of working & stylish words.

The synonyms of dubiety include “scepticism, mistrust, distrust & suspicion”, all in common use and all vested with the helpful virtue of being understood buy most, a quality not enjoyed by dubiety.  Still, the word in there to be used and it adds variety so all who put themselves through reading literary novels might meet it.  So those after a certain style might find it handy but not all are amused by such stylishness.  The stern Henry Fowler (1858–1933) in his A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926) included an entry which listed examples of “working & stylish words” which opened with the passage: “No one, unless he has happened upon this article at a very early stage of his acquaintance with this book, will suppose that the word “stylish” is meant to be laudatory.”  He went on to say there was a place for such forms “…when they are used in certain senses…” but made it clear that for most purposes the plain, simple “working word” is the better choice.  He offered the example of “deem” which in law has a precise and well understood meaning so is there essential but it’s just an attempt at stylishness if used as a substitute for “think”.  Other victims of his disapproving eye included “viable” which he judged quite proper in the papers of biologists describing newly formed organisms but otherwise a clumsy way of trying to assert something was “practicable” and “dwell” & “perchance” which appeared usually as “…conspicuous, like and escaped canary among the sparrows.”  Henry Fowler liked stylish phrases but preferred plain words.

Lindsay Lohan and her lawyer in court, Los Angeles, December 2011.

Fowler completed his text by 1925 and things have since changed, some of the “stylish” cohort seemingly having become “working” words, possibly under the influence of the use in computing and other technologies, their once specialized sense migrating into general use because the lexicon of those industries became so common.  Although he died twenty years before the first appeared, one suspects he’d not have found Ferraris “stylish” and would probably have called them “flashy” (in the sense of “vulgar ostentation” rather than “sparkling or brilliant”); dating from the mid sixteenth century, “flashy” would seem to have a suitably venerable lineage.