Homage

Homage (pronounced hom-ij, om-ij or oh-mahzh)

(1) Respect or reverence paid or rendered.

(2) In feudal era custom & law, the formal public acknowledgment by which a feudal tenant or vassal declared himself to be the man or vassal of his lord, owing him fealty and service; something done in acknowledgment of vassalage (archaic).

(3) The relation thus established of a vassal to his lord (archaic).

(4) Something done or given in acknowledgment or consideration of the worth of another.

(5) To render homage to (archaic except in artistic or historic use).

(6) An artistic work imitating another in a flattering style.

(7) A (sometimes controversial) way of describing an imitation, clone or replica of something.

(8) A demonstration of respect, such as towards an individual after their retirement or death (often in the form of (an obviously retrospective) exhibition).

1250–1300: From the Middle English hommage, omage & umage (the existence of “homage” is contested), from the Old French homage & hommage, from the Medieval Latin homināticum (homage, the service of a vassal or 'man'), the construct being (h)ome (man), from the from Latin hominem, accusative of homō (a man (and in Medieval Latin “a vassal”)) + -āticum (the noun-forming suffix) (-age).  The suffix -age was from the Middle English -age, from the Old French -age, from the Latin -āticum.  Cognates include the French -age, the Italian -aggio, the Portuguese -agem, the Spanish -aje & Romanian -aj.  It was used to form nouns (1) with the sense of collection or appurtenance, (2) indicating a process, action, or a result, (3) of a state or relationship, (4) indicating a place, (5) indicating a charge, toll, or fee, (6) indicating a rate & (7) of a unit of measure.  The verb homage was derived from the noun in the late sixteenth century (the agent noun homager noted from the turn of the fifteenth).  In Scots the spelling was homage and in Irish, ómós and the old synonym manred has been obsolete since the fourteenth century.  The predominately US pronunciation with a silent h happened because of a conflation with the nearly synonymous doublet hommage, pronounced thus.  Homage is a noun & verb, homager is a noun, homaged & homaging are verbs and homageable is an adjective; the noun plural is homages.  Despite the esistance of homager, the noun homagee seems never to have been acknowledged as a standard form.

By convention, the modern use of the form is usually as “pay homage to” but because of the variations in pronunciations (the h silent and not), homage is sometimes preceded by the article “a” and sometimes by “an” and under various influences in popular culture, the French pronunciation has in some circles become fashionable.  The term “lip homage” is much the same as “lip service”: something expressed with “mere words”.  In Middle English, the meanings variously were (1) an oath of loyalty to a liege performed by their vassal; a pledge of allegiance, (2) money given to a liege by a vassal or the privilege of collecting such money, (3) a demonstration of respect or honor towards an individual (including prayer), (4) the totality of a feudal lord's subjects when collected and (5) membership of an organized religion or belief system.  In feudal times, an homage was said to be an “act of fealty”.  The Middle English noun fealty dates from the twelfth century and was from feaute, from the Old French feauté, from fealte (loyalty, fidelity; homage sworn by a vassal to his overlord; faithfulness), from the Latin fidelitatem (nominative fidelitas) (faithfulness, fidelity), from fidelis (loyal, faithful), from the primitive Indo-European root bheidh- (to trust, confide, persuade).  In feudal law, to attorn was to “transfer homage or allegiance to another lord”.  The verb attorn (to turn over to another) was from the Middle English attournen, from the Old French atorner (to turn, turn to, assign, attribute, dispose; designate), the construct being a- (to) + tourner (to turn), from the Latin tornare (to turn on a lathe) from tornus (lathe), from the Greek tornos (lathe, tool for drawing circles), from the primitive Indo-European root tere- (to rub, turn).  Attornment was a part English real property law but was not directly comparable with the operation of those laws which in matters of slavery assigned property rights over human beings which technically were no different than those over a horse.  Attornment recognized there was in the feudal system some degree of reciprocity in rights & obligations and it was held to be unreasonable a tenant should become subject to a new lord without their own approval.  At law, what evolved was the doctrine of attornment which held alienation could not be imposed without the consent of the tenant.  Given the nature of feudal relations it was an imperfect protection but a considerable advance and attornment was also extended to all cases of lessees for life or for years.  The arrangement regarding the historic feudal relationships lasted until the early eighteenth century but attornment persists in modern property law as a mechanism which acts to preserve the essential elements of commercial tenancies in the event of the leased property changing hands.  It provides for what would now be called “transparency” in transactions and ensures all relevant information is disclosed, thereby ensuring the integrity of the due diligence process.

The historical concepts of homage and tribute are sometimes confused.  Homage was a formal ritual performed by a vassal to pledge loyalty and submission to a lord or monarch.  There were variations but the classic model was one in which the vassal would kneel before the lord, place his hands between the lord's hands, and swear an oath of loyalty and service.  That was not merely symbolic for it signified the vassal's acknowledgment of the lord's authority and their willingness to serve and protect the lord in exchange for a right to live on (and from) the land.  The relationship was that creature of feudalism; something both personal and contractual.  Tributes were actual payments made by one ruler or state to another as a sign of submission, acknowledgment of superiority, or in exchange for protection or peace.  Tribute could be paid in gold, other mediums of exchange or in the form of  goods or services.  Tribute was something imposed on a subordinate entity by a dominant power, either as a consequence of defeat in war or as a way of avoiding being attacked (ie a kind of protection racket).  The meaning of homage in feudal property law was quite specific but synonyms (depending on context) now include deference, tribute, allegiance, reverence, loyalty, obeisance, duty, adoration, fealty, faithfulness, service, fidelity, worship, adulation, honor, esteem, praise, genuflection, respect, awe, fidelity, loyalty & devotion.  However, those using homage for anything essentially imitative might find out other synonyms include fake (and more generously faux, tribute, reproduction, pastiche, clone or replica).

One implication of the acceptance of both pronunciations (the “H” silent and not) is that both “a homage” and “an homage” are acceptable in written form although in oral use the later must use the silent “H”.  In US use “an homage” is common with no suggestion of deliberately “formal” use or artistic association although elsewhere in the English-speaking world that does seem the case, movie critics everywhere usually careful to write “an homage” though the style guides seem all to be permissive and caution only that use should be consistent.  There are in English other words where the choice between “a” & “an” is dictated by pronunciation and frequently they’re those where the status of the initial “h” is contested.  Although there are still prescriptive pedants, informally at least there seems to be a general acceptance “H-optional” words do exists and use is a thing of dialect, register or even personal preference.  They wiser style guides also suggest avoiding the “H war” which is the battle over whether the letter “H” should be pronounced aitch or haitch, the former long classed a “U word” as part of “correct” RP (received pronunciation) while the latter was thought “a bit common”.  Historically, the evolution wasn’t quite that linear but in some places (notably Australia where “haichers” were associated with (1) Irish ancestry and (2) being a product of the Roman Catholic education system) the class-identifier sometimes assumed a political dimension.  The modern principle is to accept however individuals choose to “H” and treat it as part of the rich diversity of life.

Other “optional H” words include “herb” (especially in US use), “historic” (which can be tricky because the structure of some sentences bests suits “a historic” while in others “an historic” sounds “natural” and that’s a better guide (at least in oral use) that any “rule”) and “hotel” (although “an hotel” seems used only in poetry or as a deliberate archaism).  The most common mistake is probably with “heir” (pronounced air, that correct use rather cruelly applied by the Duchess of Windsor (Wallis Simpson); 1896–1986) who was known to complain her husband (the former King Edward VIII (1894–1972) “wasn’t “heir conditioned”).  The guiding principle remains to use “a” before words starting with a consonant sound, and “an” before those starting with a vowel sound, a “rule” applied regardless of spelling although in scientific, literary and poetic use there have been exceptions.  Although “a hypothesis” is now the standard form, “an hypothesis” does appear in older texts and it does better suits some sentences.  In poetry both “an harangue” and “an harbinger” were used because metrically things flowed better but euphony in poetry is a special case and in general oral and written use the conventional forms are better.  For historic reasons some outliers do endure such as “an hymn” or “an harlot”, the latter because it’s set in the linguistic stone of the King James Version of the Bible (KJV, 1611) but not even the popular use by contemporary critics of “an horrible” this and that when writing of William Shakespeare’s (1564–1616) more torrid scenes has been enough for that to remain respectable.

Sample from Ariana Grande’s (b 1993) Thank U, Next (2018). 

Singer Ariana Grande’s (b 1993) song Thank U, Next (2018) was one of the year’s big successes and the video included well-constructed references to a number of early-century pop culture products including Legally Blonde (2001) and Mean Girls (2004).  Within popular culture, there seems to be a greater tolerance of works which are in some way an homage, the term “sampling” presumably chosen to imply what was being done was (1) taking only a small fragment of someone else’s work and (2) for all purposes within long established doctrine of “fair use”.  Interestingly, instead of regarding sampling as fair use, US courts initially were quite severe and in many early cases treated the matter as one of infringement of copyright, apparently because while a attributed paragraph here and there in a paper of dozens or hundreds of pages could reasonably seen as “fair use”, a recurring snatch of even a few seconds in a song only three minutes long was not.  Of late, US appeal courts seem to have been more accommodating of sampling and have taken the view the legal doctrine of de minimis which has been used when assessing literary or academic works should apply also to sampling but the mechanics of calculating “fair use” need to be considered in the context of the product.  The Latin phrase de minimis (pertaining to minimal things) was from the expressions de minimis non curat praetor (the praetor does not concern himself with trifles) or de minimis non curat lex (the law does not concern itself with trifles) and was an exclusionary principle by which a court could refuse to hear or dismiss matters to trivial to bother the justice system.  One Queen of Sweden preferred the more poetic Latin adage, aquila non capit muscās (the eagle does not catch flies).  As a legal doctrine, it actually predates its fifteenth century formalization in the textbooks and there are records in civil, Islamic and ecclesiastical courts of Judges throwing out cases because the matters involved were of such little matter.  In many jurisdictions, governments now set a certain financial limit for the matters to be considered, below which they are either excluded or referred to a tribunal established for such purposes.

One suspects artists, architects, film directors and such are inclined to call their work an homage (or probably the French hommage (pronounced omm-arge)) as a kind of pre-emptive strike against accusations of plagiarism or a lack of originality.  Car manufacturers are apt to do it too, examples in recent decades including the BMW Mini, Volkswagen Beetle, Dodge Challenger and Chevrolet Camaro, all of which shamelessly followed the lines of the original versions from generations earlier.  The public response to these retro-efforts was usually positive although if clumsily executed (Jaguar S-Type) derision soon follows.  Sometimes, it’s just a piece which is homaged.  On the Mercedes-Benz CL (C215 1998-2006), the homage was to the roofline of the W111 & W112 coupés (1961-1971), especially the memorable sweep of the rear glass although all of that was itself an homage to the 1955 Chryslers.  It was a shame the C215 didn’t pick up more of the W111’s motifs, the retrospective bits easily the best.

1969 Chevrolet Camaro Z/28 (left) and 2023 Chevrolet Camaro.

The original Chevrolet Camaro (1966-1969) was a response to the original Ford Mustang (1964) which had given the "pony-car" segment both its name and instant popularity.  It was a profitable place to be and while the Camaro's lines were different while adhering to the concept, Chevrolet for 1970 abandoned the look for something almost Italianesque, just as Chrysler picked-up and perfected the cues for the Dodge Challenger & Plymouth, both of which debuted with a splash but didn't last even to the end of 1974 (even Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974 lasting a little longer), early victims of what would prove a difficult decade.  Chevrolet however picked them up again in 2010 but their homage to 1966 was perhaps a little too heavy-handed, dramatic though the "chop-top" effect was.  Still, the result doubtlessly was better that what would have been delivered had the designers come up with anything original and that's not a problem restricted cars.  One wishes architects would more often pay homage to mid-century modernism or art deco but the issue seems to be all the awards architects give each other are only for originality, thus the assembly line of the ugly but distinctive.

1970 Dodge Challenger (left) and 2023 Dodge Challenger (right).

The original Challenger (and its corporate companions the Plymouth Barracuda & Cuda) was an homage to the 1966 Camaro and so well executed that Chrysler’s pair are thought by many to be the best looking pony cars of the muscle car era.  In 2008 when the look was reprised, it was thought a most a accomplished effort and better received than would be the new Camaro two season later.  Chevrolet must have been miffed Dodge was so praised for paying homage to what in 1969 had been borrowed from their 1966 range.

1979 Volkswagen Beetle Cabriolet by Karmann (left) and 2015 Volkswagen Beetle Cabriolet (right).

First produced in 1938, Volkswagen clung to the rear-engine / air-cooled formula so long it almost threatened the company’s survival and while the public showed little enthusiasm for a return to the mechanical configuration (the Porsche 911 crew are a separate species which, if they had their way, would still not have to bother with cooling fluid), the shape of the Beetle did appeal and over two generations between 1997-2019, the company sold what was initially called the “New Beetle”.  Despite the pre-war lines imposing significant packaging inefficiencies, it was popular enough to endure for almost two decades although the mid-life re-styling never quite succeeded in increasing the appeal to male drivers; to this day the New Beetle remains a quintessential "girl's car".

1966 Austin Mini-Cooper 1275 S (left) and 2001 BMW Mini (right).

Students of the history of design insist the BMW Mini was not so much an homage to the British Motor Corporation’s (BMC) original Mini (1959) but actually to some of the conceptual sketches which emerged from the design office between 1957-1958 but were judged too radical for production.  That was true but there are enough hints and clues in the production models for nobody to miss the point.

1965 Jaguar 3.8 S-Type (left) and 1999 Jaguar S-Type.

Released in 1963, the Jaguar S-Type was an updated Mark 2 with the advantage of more luggage space and markedly improved ride and handling made possible by the grafting on of the independent rear-suspension from the E-Type (XKE) and Mark X (later 420G).  The improvements were appreciated but the market never warmed to the discontinuity between the revised frontal styling and the elongated rear end, the latter working better when a Mark X look was adopted in front and released as the 420.  Still, although never matching the appeal of the classic Mark 2 with its competition heritage, it has a period charm and has a following in the Jaguar collector market.  According to contemporary accounts, the homage launched in 1999 was a good car but it seemed a curious decision to use as a model a vehicle which has always been criticized for its appearance although compared with the ungainly retro, the original S-Type (1963-1968) started to look quite good, the new one the answer to a question something like "What would a Jaguar look like if built by Hyundai?".  As an assignment in design school that would have been a good question and the students could have pinned their answers to the wall as a warning to themselves but it wasn't one the factory should ever have posed.  Quietly, the new S-Type was dropped in 2007 after several seasons of indifferent sales.

1956 Chrysler 300B (left), 1970 Mercedes-Benz 280 SE Coupé (centre) and 2005 Mercedes-Benz SL65 (right).

The 1955-1956 Chryslers live in the shadow cast by the big fins which sprouted on the 1957 cars but they possess a restraint and elegance of line which was lost as a collective macropterous madness overtook (most of) the industry.  Mercedes-Benz in 1961 paid due homage when the 220 SE Coupé (W111; 1961-1971) was released and returned to the roofline with the C215 (1998-2006).  The big coupé was the closest the factory came to styling success in recent years (although the frontal treatment was unfortunate) but one must be sympathetic to the designers because so much is now dictated by aerodynamics.  Still, until they too went mad, the BMW design office seemed  to handle big coupés better.  

In the collector market, there are many low-volume models which have become highly prized.  Some were produced only in low numbers because of a lack of demand, some because the manufacturer needed to make only so many for homologation purposes and some because production was deliberately limited.  Such machines can sell for high prices, sometimes millions so, especially where such vehicles are based on more mundane models produced in greater numbers, many are tempted to “make their own”, a task which car range from the remarkably simple to the actually impossible.  Those creating such things often produce something admirable (and technically often superior to the original) and despite what some say, there’s really no objection to the pursuit provided there is disclosure because otherwise it’s a form of fraud.  When such machines are created, those doing the creating seldom say fake or faux and variously prefer tribute, clone, recreation, homage or replica and those words in this context come with their own nuanced meanings, replica for example not meaning exactly what it does in geometry or database administration.

A 1962 Ferrari 250 GTO in silver (US$70 million) and a fine replica by Tempero of a 1963 model in rosso corsa (racing red) (US$1.2 million).  Even the Ferrari cognoscenti concede the craftsmanship in a Termero replica is of a higher standard than the original. 

As an extreme example of the homage was inspired by the Ferrari 250 GTO, of which it’s usually accepted 36 were built although there were actually 41 (2 x (1961) prototypes; 32 x (1962–63) Series I 250 GTO; 3 x (1962–1963) “330 GTO”; 1 x (1963) 250 GTO with LM Berlinetta-style body & 3 x (1964) Series II 250 GTO).  The 36 in the hands of collectors command extraordinary prices, chassis 4153GT in June 2018 realizing US$70 million in a private sale whereas an immaculately crafted replica of a 1962 version by Tempero (New Zealand), said to be better built than any original GTO (although that is damning with faint praise, those who restore pre-modern Ferraris wryly noting that while the drive-trains were built with exquisite care, the assembly of the coachwork could be shoddy indeed) was listed for sale at US$1.3 million.  Even less exalted machinery (though actually more rare still) like the 1971 Plymouth Hemi Cuda convertible also illustrate the difference for there are now considerably more clones / replicas / recreations etc than ever there were originals and the price difference is typically a factor of ten or more.  On 13 November 2023, the market will be tested when a Ferrari 250 GTO (chassis 3765LM) will be auctioned in New York, RM Sotheby’s, suggesting a price exceeding $US60 million.  A number which greatly exceeds or fails by much to make that mark will be treated a comment on the state of the world economy.

Breadvan

Breadvan (pronounced bred-vann)

(1) A delivery vehicle adapted for carrying loaves of bread or other bakery items for delivery to retail outlets, hotels, cafés etc.

(2) As the Ferrari 250 GT SWB (short wheelbase) “Breadvan”, a one-off vehicle produced in 1962.

(3) As a descriptor of the “breadvan” style applied to the rear of vehicles to seek aerodynamic advantages in competition, variously applied, mostly during the 1960s & 1970s.

1840s: A compound word, the construct being bread + van.  Bread was from the Middle English bred & breed (kind of food made from flour or the meal of some grain, kneaded into a dough, fermented, and baked), from the Old English brēad (fragment, bit, morsel, crumb), from the Proto-West Germanic braud, from the Proto-Germanic braudą (cooked food, leavened bread), from the primitive Indo-European berw- & brew- (to boil, to see).  Etymologists note also the Proto-Germanic braudaz & brauþaz (broken piece, fragment), from the primitive Indo-European bera- (to split, beat, hew, struggle) and suggest bread may have been a conflation of both influences.  It was cognate with the Old Norse brauð (bread), the Old Frisian brad (bread), the Middle Dutch brot (bread), the German Brot (bread), the Scots breid (bread), the Saterland Frisian Brad (bread), the West Frisian brea (bread), the Dutch brood (bread), the Danish & Norwegian brød (bread), the Swedish bröd (bread), the Icelandic brauð (bread), the Albanian brydh (I make crumbly, friable, soft) and the Latin frustum (crumb).  It displaced the non-native Middle English payn (bread), from the Old French pain (bread), having in the twelfth century replaced the usual Old English word for "bread" (hlaf).  Van was short for caravan, from the Middle French caravane, from the French caravane, from the Old French carvane & carevane, (or the Medieval Latin caravana), from the Persian کاروان‎ (kârvân), from the Middle Persian (kārawān) (group of desert travelers), from the Old Persian, ultimately from the primitive Indo-European ker- (army).  Most famously, the word was used to designate a group of people who were travelling by camel or horse on the variety of routes referred to as the Silk Road and it reached the West after being picked up during the Crusades, from the Persian forms via the Arabic qairawan and connected ultimately to the Sanskrit karabhah (camel).  Breadvan (also as bread-van) is a noun; the noun plural is breadvans.

Breadvans various

Progress: Horse-drawn breadvan (left) and Austin (left) & Morris (right), breadvans, Melbourne, Australia, 1959 (right).  The Morris Commercial J-type was produced between 1949 and 1961 and between 1957 and 1960s there was also a “badge-engineered” (and mechanically identical) Austin version.  The BMC (British Motor Corporation) conglomerate (that ultimately would be absorbed into the doomed British Leyland (1968-1986) became notorious for “badge-engineering” (one model produced under six different brands) their passenger cars but their light commercial vehicles often were produced as both an Austin and Morris, the original rationale being to provide products to sometimes separate dealer networks.

The breadvans were first horse-drawn and came into use in the in the 1840s.  These vans were used to transport freshly baked bread from bakeries to homes and businesses in cities and towns in the UK, Europe, North America and Australasia.  The breadvan was adopted as an efficiency measure, being a significant improvement on the traditional system of delivery which was usually a “baker’s boy” carrying baskets of bread on foot to customers.  The horse-drawn breadvans allowed bakers increase production and expand their customer base.  The construction of the vehicles was not particularly specialized but they did need to be (1) waterproof to protect the goods from the elements and (2) secure enough that the bread was not accessible by opportunistic birds, dogs or thieves.  Enzo Ferrari (1898-1988) became famous for the cars carrying his name (though never much associated with breadvans) but his imperious attitude to customers and employees alike led to a number of them storming out of Maranello and creating their own machines.  Some, like Lamborghini endured through many ups & downs, others like Bizzarrini survived for a while and ATS (Automobili Turismo Sport) produced a dozen exquisite creations before succumbing to commercial reality.  Another curious product of a dispute with il Commendatore was the Ferrari 250 GT SWB “Breadvan”.

Ferrari 250 GT SWB “Breadvan” in profile (left) and leading a 250 GT SWB, the car on which it was based.

Ferrari’s 250 GTO became available to customers in 1962 and one with his name on the list was Count Giovanni Volpi di Misurata (b 1938), principal of the Scuderia Serenissima (Scuderia SSS Republica di Venezia) operation but when Enzo Ferrari found out Volpi was one of the financial backers of the ATS project, he scratched the count’s name from the order book.  Through one of the back channel deals still a feature of Italian commerce, Volpi did obtain a GTO but he decided he’d like to make a point to il Commendatore so opted to make something even better for his team’s assault on the 1962 Le Mans 24 hour endurance classic.  In the Scuderia Serenissima stable was what was reputed to be the world’s fastest Ferrari GT SWB (serial number 2819 GT) and it was decided to update this to a specification beyond even that of the GTO, a task entrusted to Giotto Bizzarrini (1926-2023) who, with remarkable alacrity, performed the task in the workshops of noted coachbuilder Piero Drogo (1926–1973).  The changes wrought were radical indeed.  To obtain the ideal centre of gravity, the 3.0 litre (180 cubic inch) V12 engine was shifted 4¾ inches (120 mm) rearward, sitting entirely behind the front axle and mounted lower, something permitted by the installation of a dry sump lubrication system.  Emulating the factory GTO, six downdraft, twin choke Weber carburetors sat atop the inlet manifold, the tuned engine generating a healthy 300 HP (horsepower).  Given the re-engineering, on paper, the car was at least a match for the GTO except it lacked the factory machine’s five-speed gearbox, running instead the standard four-speed.  

Ferrari 250 GT SWB “Breadvan”.  It's not known if anyone has ever calculated the rear compartment's capacity but it would have held a few loaves and they'd likely have been delivered more quickly than most.

What really caught the eye however was Bizzarrini’s striking bodywork, the sharp nose so low a Perspex cover had to be fabricated to shield the cluster of a dozen velocity stacks of the Webers protruding above the hood (bonnet) line.  Most extraordinary however was the roofline that extended from the top of the windscreen to the rear where it was sharply cut-off to create what remains perhaps the most extreme Kammtail ever executed.  The count was impressed, the creation matching the GTO for power while being 100 kg (220 lb) lighter and aerodynamically more efficient.  Accordingly he included it in the three-car Ferrari team he assembled for Le Mans along with the GTO and a 250 TR/61; it's appearance caused a sensation, the French dubbing it la camionnette (little truck) but it was the English nickname “Breadvan” that really caught on.  To a degree the count proved his point.  Under pressure from Ferrari the organizers forced the Breadvan to run in the prototype class against pure racing cars rather than the GTOs in the granturismo category but in the race, it outpaced the whole GT field until, after four hours, a broken driveshaft forced its retirement.  Subsequently, it was entered that season in a further four events, scoring two GT class victories and a class track record before being retired.  Count Volpi sold the car in 1965 for US$2,800 (it was then just another no longer competitive, "clapped-out" race car) but it has survived to be a popular entrant on the historic racing circuit.

2021 Ferrari Breadvan homage by Niels van Roij Design.

Dutch designer Niels van Roij (b 1984) runs a specialist design house and in 2019 was commissioned to built a one-off “Ferrari Breadvan homage”.  Two years in the making, the project was based on a 550 Maranello (tipo F133, 1996-2002), the model chosen because it was the company’s last front-engined, V12 built with the classic open-gate manual transmission.  With the increase in the money supply (most of which went to the upper few percent of the population), the market for bespoke creations (thought effectively extinct since the demise in the 1960s of most of the coach-building business) has grown and for those not content with the long and expensive option lists now offered by some manufacturers, true exclusivity can be obtained by commissioning a one-off creation.  Typically, the things cost at least US$2 million.  

Breadvans, crashed and fixed.

Breadvans ancient and (slightly more) modern can crash or otherwise be damaged and while some will be written off (typically if replacement is economically more viable than repair), if the vehicle is sufficiently valuable, it will be repaired.  The Ferrari Breadvan hasn’t been sold in a public exchange since the mid-1960s although it has shifted between collections on a number of occasions but always via private treaties.  A current market valuation is thus speculative but as a unique Ferrari 250 SWB of historical significance, it will be a big number and current estimates are between US$25-30 million, a reasonable increase from the US$2,800 realized in 1965.  So, the dented Ferrari Breadvan gets fixed and England’s RS Panels, based in Attleborough Fields Industrial Estate, Nuneaton was entrusted with the task after one “prang”.  Specialists in the aluminum and steel panels forming the usually curvaceous but occasionally brutalist lines of classic-era Ferraris, Maseratis, Jaguars, Aston Martins and such, as many owners discovered after RS returned their repaired or restored cars, they found the fit and finish was of a higher standard than when they left the factory, all those years ago.  Ferraris especially were notorious for looking gorgeous but if one looked too closely at the welds and joins not usually seen, the impression could be a little dented.  After emerging from RS Panels, it’s likely the Breadvan is in its finest ever condition.

1965 Ford GT40 Mark I (left) 1966 Ford J Car (centre) & 1967 Ford GT40 Mark IV (right).

As well as the ATS, Lamborghinis and Bizzarrinis, Enzo Ferrari’s attitude to those who disagreed with him also begat the Ford GT40, a well-known tale recounted (with a little license) in the 20th century Fox film Ford vs Ferrari (2019).  In 7.0 litre (427 cubic inch) form, the GT40 Mark II won at Le Mans in 1966 but Ford’s engineers were aware the thing was overweight and lacked the aerodynamic efficiency of the latest designs so embarked on a development program, choosing the project name “J Car”, an allusion to the “Appendix J” regulations (one of the few genuinely good ideas the FIA (Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile (the International Automobile Federation) came up with before it became world sport's dopiest regulatory body) with which it conformed.  The aluminum honeycomb chassis was commendably light and, noting the speed advantage gained by the Ferrari Breadvan in 1962, a similar rear section was fabricated with tests confirming the reduction in drag.  Unfortunately, the additional speed it enabled exposed the limitation of the breadvanesque lines: above a certain speed the large flat surface acted like an aircraft’s wing and the ensuing lift provoked lethal instability, one fatal crash proving the lightweight chassis also was fragile.  The “J Car” was thus abandoned and a more conventional approach was taken for both the chassis and body of the GT40 Mark IV and it proved successful, in 1967 gaining the second of Ford’s four successive victories at Le Mans (1966-1969).

The modern Ferrari "breadvans"

Ferrari 250 GT SWB “Breadvan” (left) and 2013 Ferrari FF (right).

Rather than the 250 Breadvan, it was probably market research that inspired the Ferrari FF (2011-2016), the Italian factory's first take on the shooting brake concept although in the 1950s there had been some built with opening rear hatches a la the fixed-roof versions of the Jaguar E-Type (1961-1974).  Over the decades, there had been more than a dozen "variations on the theme of a Ferrari station wagon" by a number of coachbuilders, all in their own way distinctive but none improved the lines of the donor car on which they were based, unlike the Jaguar XJS shooting brakes which looked so good it was remarkable one never appeared in the factory's catalogue.  According to the factory, "FF" stood for "Ferrari Four" a reference to the AWD (all wheel drive) configuration although it may also have been intended to remind potential buyers the thing could seat four and the promotional material included pictures of ski-racks and even a roof-mounted “ski-box”, able to hold ski-gear for four.  Clearly, the combination of AWD traction and the carrying capacity was a hint this was a car for those who liked to drive to the ski-fields.  The Ferrari FF "shooting brake" (the factory seems not to have used the term although most journalists seems to thought it best except the better informed who referenced the 250 "Breadvan") was very much in the same vein, its capaciousness closer to that of a “big coupé” rather than any size of station wagon although the factory did circulate photographs of the rear-compartment comfortably (if snugly) packed with a set of golf-clubs and a half dozen-odd travel bags; with folding rear seats, Ferrari claimed a trunk (boot) capacity of 450-800 litres (16-28 cubic feet).

1966 Jensen FF Series 1 (left) and 2017 Ferrari GTC4Lusso (right).

Despite the name, there was apparently no intention to link the car with the Jensen FF (1966-1971) a pioneering machine which featured both all wheel drive (AWD although then still called 4WD (four wheel drive)) and anti-lock brakes (an early, mechanical implementation derived from use in aviation which was most effective).  Anti-lock braking is essentially a form of “pressure modulation” and the modern abbreviation "ABS" doesn’t reference the often quoted  “Anti-Lock Braking System”; the correct source is Anti-Bloc System, the name adopted in 1966 when Daimler-Benz and the Heidelberg electronics company Teldix (later absorbed by Bosch) began a co-development of a hybrid analogue-electronic system.  The system used on the Jensen FF was an early, mechanical implementation derived from use in aviation which have proved effective for aircraft landing on icy runways).

Marketing opportunity for niche players: A Lindsay Lohan breadvan, Reykjavik, Iceland.

The Jensen FF really wasn’t a shooting brake although the huge and distinctive rear window was also a hatch so it did offer some of the advantages.  Despite the high price, the Jensen FF sold remarkably well but its market potential was limited because all Ferguson’s development work had been done in England using RHD (right-hand-drive) vehicles and the system was so specific it wasn’t possible to make a left-hand-drive (LHD) FF without re-engineering the whole mechanism, the apparatus so bulky the passenger's front seat was narrower than that of the driver so much did things intrude.  Consequently, only 320 were built, apparently at a financial loss.  Ferrari did better with their FF, over 2000 sold between 2011–2016 and although the packaging may have been remarkably efficient, with a 6.3 litre (382 cubic inch) V12 it was never going to be economical, listed by the 2013 US Department of Energy as the least fuel-efficient car in the midsize class, sharing that dubious honor with the bigger, heavier (though not as rapid) Bentley Mulsanne.  For owners, the 335 km/h (208 mph) top speed was presumably sufficient compensation.  When production ended, the FF was replaced by the conceptually similiar GTC4Lusso (2016-2020) and, unusually, in 2017 the factory announced the GTC4Lusso T, the appended "T" a reference to it being powered by a twin-turbocharged V8 rather than its older sibling's V12; the V8 was RWD (rear wheel drive) but did retain the 4WS (four-wheel steering) system.  The last of the pair left the factory late in 2020 and were not replaced so there have been no Ferrari Breadvans since.

Homemade breadvans

Ford Anglia, Rallye Monte-Carlo, 1962 (left) & Ford Anglia "breadvans" built for New Zealand Allcomer racing during the 1960s.

In the US, at a time with a million dollars was still a lot of money, Ford spent probably at least a million on the GT40’s abortive breadvan but in New Zealand, it doubtful the amateur racers in the popular “Allcomers” category (a close cousin of the admirable Formula Libre) spent even UD$100 in the development of their “breadvans”.  In the Allcomer category, the “breadvans” (again a nod to the Count Volpi’s 1962 Ferrari) were Ford Anglias with a rear section modified to gain some aerodynamic advantage.  The English Ford Anglia 105E (1959–1968) had an unusual reverse-angle rear-window (borrowed from some of the corporation's US Lincolns & Mercurys), a design chosen to optimize headroom for back-seat passengers and that it did but it also induced additional drag which, while of no great consequence at the speeds attained in rallying or on public roads, did compromise the top speed, something of great concern to those who found the light, agile machines otherwise well-suited to racing.  In the spirit of improvisation for which New Zealand Allcomer racing was renowned, “breadvans” soon proliferated, fabricated variously from fibreglass, aluminum or steel (and reputedly even paper-mache although that may be apocryphal and based on the use of the technique to create molds for a fibreglass structure) and the approach was successful, Anglias competitive in some forms of racing well into the 1970s by which time some had, improbably, been re-powered with V8 engines, an Allcomer solution for just about any problem.

La camionnette: Citroën Baguette Vans

1972 Citroën SM with Michelin's RR “plastic” wheels.

The Citroën SM (1970-1975) was not the success the manufacturer had anticipated in the heady days of the mid 1960s when the design parameters were finalized.  Then, oil was cheap, seemingly limitless and rules about exhaust emissions and safety so minor as to be barely an impediment to the imagination of engineers but, in a very short time much would change, notably US legislators beginning to impose passenger vehicle emission standards in an attempt to reduce the smog that had become a blight upon many cities and the publication in 1965 of Unsafe at Any Speed by crusading lawyer Ralph Nader (b 1934).  Nader’s book was an incitement of the design of US-built cars but what it triggered was an on-rush of legislation that would be imposed on any car sold in that lucrative market and while re-engineering was viable for some imports selling in volume, for niche products, the accountants couldn’t make the economics work; the SM was one of many victims, the last sold in the US leaving the showroom in 1973.  That meant its demise there couldn’t be blamed on the first oil shock (1973-1974) that wrought such a change on the global industry and one of the ironies of the era is that among vehicles sold in the US in its price range and offering such performance (especially were top-speed used as a yardstick), the SM was the one with the lowest fuel consumption, achieved by the use of a relatively small (a V6 of 2.7 or 3.0 litres (163 or 181 cubic inch)) and what were at the time industry-leading aerodynamics.

1974 Citroën HY (1947–1981) breadvan.

Things were however different in Europe where gas (petrol) was more expensive and an engine of that displacement was thought “large”; greatly SM sales were affected although the writing was on the wall even before OAPEC (Organization of Arab Petroleum Exporting Countries) on 17 October, 1973 imposed their first oil embargo, the car’s reputation for unreliability and costly maintenance spreading rapidly although that was a product more of infrastructure than design.  While by the standards of the time a complex machine, experience has shown well-maintained SMs are commendably robust but the problem was the Maserati-sourced V6 engine was unusual in using a 90^o configuration (it was essentially a cut-down V8) meaning aspects of the tuning were novel to most mechanics and the hydraulic systems were in some ways different to those used on the DS (1955-1975), the car on which most mechanics had gained their experience of such things.  As it was, sales in Europe dropped precipitously after 1971 (the first year of full-production) and the SM’s future likely anyway would have been bleak had it not been doomed by the rising price of gas and the loss of the lucrative US market.

1988 Citroën 2CV (1948-1990) camionnette.

The SM had been one of the cases of “mission creep” that were a characteristic of the industry in the optimistic and prosperous 1960s.  The origin design brief issued in 1960 had been for a “high-performance DS”, a car that although the lines were upon release in 1955 stunningly modernist (“like a spaceship” a phrase frequently used in press reports), was always hampered by having to use an ancient and rather agricultural four-cylinder power-plant, the funds to develop the planned flat-6 the car deserved never made available.  Even in 1970, the Maserati V6 wasn’t ideal for such a machine but Citroën in 1968 had acquired the Italian concern with the express purpose of gaining an engine powerful enough for a grand-touring car (then a challenging assignment for something with FWD (front-wheel-drive)) and although the V6 delivered the desired power, the compromises inherent in the 90^o layout meant the ultimate smoothness and refinement expected in such cars was never quite achieved.  Still, it was in so many ways unique that many were prepared to overlook the odd foible and the press response generally was enthusiastic, as was that of the public with sales in the first two seasons approaching expectations.  However, the reputation for unreliability and costly repairs quickly quelled demand and the unfortunate “external circumstances” of 1973-1974 ensured the project would be terminated earlier than planned with fewer than 13,000 having been built.  Had the SM been the company’s only disastrous venture in the troubled 1970s, Citroën may have been able to avoid bankruptcy but the mistakes had been many and in 1974 administrators were called in, the company sold to the more stable Peugeot (with a still murky involvement by the French state).

1971 Citroën SM "Breadvan".

Between 1970 and 1975, the factory produced the SM only as a LHD (left-hand drive), two-door coupé but coach-builders saw the possibilities with four-door sedans and two-door cabriolets being constructed along with some even more exotic creations but all were very expensive and production of none of these variants reached double figures.  Most exclusive however were the two SM Présidentielles, four-door cabriolets built for le président’s parades during state occasions, the pair not retired from the Élysée Palace’s fleet until 2009.  Unusually among state limousines built since the 1940s, the Présidentielles used the SM’s five-speed manual transmission, first gear being a “crawler”, enabling the cars to percolate slowly along.  Improbable as the SM may have seemed as a rally car, the factory did enter a number of them in such events and for a couple of seasons there was some success, demonstrating also the strength of the novel “plastic wheels” (the Michelin RR (roues resin (resin wheel)) properly described as “constructed of synthetic resin reinforced with long-strand carbon fibre”) but the most eye-catching were a handful of SWB versions, some of which (it may have been as many as four) used the “breadvan” style kammback, a la the earlier Ferrari.  This further improved the aerodynamics which, combined with lower weight and engines tuned for additional power, delivered a reputed top speed of 285 km/h (177 mph, with rally-car gearing!), some 60 km/h (35 mph) more than the fastest of the production models.  It thus joined the short list of "unlikely rally cars" but it was effective and more might have been achieve had the company's financial problems not curtailed the venture.  More practically, the rear compartment allowed an additional two spare tyres to be carried, a useful asset in long-distant events conducted over rough roads.

Apothaneintheloish

Apothaneintheloish (pronounced uh-poth-un-inn-th-loe-ish)

An expression of a wish to die.

1968: The construct was apo + thanein + thelo + ish.  The Ancient Greek prefix ἀπό- (apó-) was from the preposition ἀπό (apó) (from, away from), from the primitive Indo-European hepo (off, away), the ultimate source also of the English words "off" & "of" and of (ab- came via Latin).  The English –ish was appended to create the adjectival form.  The -ish suffix was from the Middle English -ish & -isch, from the Old English -isċ (-ish (the suffix)), from the Proto-West Germanic -isk, from the Proto-Germanic -iskaz (-ish), from the primitive Indo-European -iskos.  It was cognate with the Dutch -s, the German -isch (from which Dutch would gain -isch), the Norwegian, Danish & Swedish -isk or -sk, the Lithuanian -iškas, the Russian -ский (-skij) and the Ancient Greek diminutive suffix -ίσκος (-ískos).  It was used to create adjectives (standard and (in the modern era) increasingly non-standard, even in slang as the stand-alone "ish" indicating “sort of”, “kind of”, “tending towards” etc).  In colloquial use it became a popular way to create both adjectives & nouns with a diminutive or derogatory implication.  The word was coined by the author Anthony Burgess (1917–1993).  Apothaneintheloish is an adjective.

A black-figure pottery vase (circa 500 BC) showing Thanatos (Death) and Hypnos (Sleep) carrying the dead body of the hero Sarpedon; discovered in Attica, Greece and now on display in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

In Greek mythology, Thantos was the god of death and the significance of Burgess's choice was that Thantos was associated specifically with a “graceful, peaceful departure from life”.  So, a vision of Thantos was a tap on the shoulder, a notice to quit the world and something known in English as "the visitation of the Angel of Death" and, except for those few wishing to go out in a “blaze of glory”, as one's death goes, a visit from Thantos was about as good as it got.   Thantos appears sometimes in commentaries by Freudians & neo-Freudians but Sigmund Freud (1856-1939) never used the word.  He used Todestrieb (death drive), the construct being Tod (death) +‎ -es- (in German a genitival interfix used to link elements in certain compounds) +‎ Trieb (sprout (but in the technical jargon of psychoanalysis specifically “drive” (in the sense of “desire, urge, impulse”)).  Freud in his famous Jenseits des Lustprinzips (Beyond the Pleasure Principle (1920)) borrowed the word (which he used more often in the plural (Todestriebe) (death drives) from Russian psychiatrist Sabina Spielrein (1885-1942 and a student and lover of Carl Jung (1875–1961)) who in 1912 had published the essay Die Destruktion als Ursache des Werdens (Destruction as the Cause of Coming Into Being).  The relationship between Freud & Spielrein was both convivial and entirely professional.  Thanatos came into popular use in psychoanalysis after it appeared in a paper by Austrian-American psychologist Paul Federn (1871–1950 and, like Freud, trained in Vienna).  Federn used Thanatos as a dichotomous contrast with eros (from the Ancient Greek ἔρως (érōs) (love, desire”) which in psychiatry) is used to describe the human “life drive” (the collective instincts for self-preservation).  In the profession it's used also of the libido and it's not only among the Freudians the link between the two uses is thought so fundamental.

The Greek phrase Apothanein thelo (I want to die) concludes the epigraph of TS Eliot’s (1888–1965) The Waste Land: “Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis vidiin ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent: Σίβνλλα τί ϴέλεις; respondebat illa: άπο ϴανεΐν ϴέλω.”  The text was from the satirical novel Satyricon, presumed written by the Roman courtier Petronius (Gaius Petronius Arbiter, circa 27–66), Eliot’s translation being: “I saw with my own eyes the Sibyl at Cumae hanging in a cage, and when the boys said to her: ‘Sibyl, what do you want?’ she answered: ‘I want to die.’”

Apollo and the Cumaean Sibyl (circa 1670), oil on canvas by Giovanni Domenico Cerrini, (1609-1681).  Sibyl is holding a handful of dust.

The Satyricon was a collection of tales, the misadventures of Trimalchio, a one-time gladiator in the Roman Empire of the first century AD and the passage is one of the few fragments of the text still extant.  Sibyl of Cumae was one of the great beauties of the age and Apollo, wanting her for his own, offered to grant her any wish.  Without a moment’s thought she asked to “live for as many years as there were grains in a handful of dust.”  Apollo granted her wish, but she anyway refused his affections and she came to regret things, over the centuries growing older and more decrepit but unable to die.  What she had wanted was an eternal youth but instead decayed into a figure tiny, frail and confined to her bed.  When Trimalchio speaks of her in the Satyricon, he describes her as a tourist attraction, a withered, ancient relic, longing to die.  As recounted by the Roman Poet Ovid (Publius Ovidius Naso; 43 BC–17 AD) in his Metamorphoses, Sibyl lived a thousand years and as she shrunk and shrivelled, eventually she was kept in an ampulla (jar); in her final years, only the faint echo of her voice remained.  She might have said, as the 99 year old Archbishop Daniel Mannix (1864–1963; Archbishop of Melbourne 1917-1963) grew fond of saying: “I have lived too long, but that is not my fault”.  That would have been half correct but, given Sibyl’s calling of prophesy, she had only herself to blame.

Apothaneintheloish appeared first in 1968 in an essay written by Anthony Burgess and published in The Listener:

“Waking crapulous and apothaneintheloish, as I do most mornings these days, I find a little loud British gramophone music over the bloody mary helps me adjust to the daily damnation of writing.”  It can be translated as: “Suffering from taking too much strong drink and feeling I want to die.”

Burgess had an extraordinary knowledge of words so probably felt entitled to kick language around a bit and it’s likely he’d not much have been concerned at any pedant drawing a red circle around the appended –ish, content the linguistic sin of mixing an English suffix into a otherwise Greek formation was minor compared with the world gaining a new adjective.  Such was the skill of Burgess that in his writing the rare and unusual words slurred effortlessly into the text, avoiding the tiresome, jarring effect achieved by some who seem intent to flaunt what Henry Fowler (1858–1933) in his austere A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926) called the “pride of knowledge”; Henry Fowler knew sin when he saw it on the page.  Others can do it too: the historian Piers Brendon (1940) made the discovery of novel forms a pleasure and when reading Umberto Eco’s (1932–2016) Il pendolo di Foucault (Foucault's Pendulum (1988)), some can’t resist keeping pencil & paper at hand, just to note down the most memorable.

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

Burgess though probably made the trick most fun and without Burgess, would it have become known even slightly that vaccine can be an adjective?  It means “cow-like” so is a word for those who find bovine too repetitive or a bit common.  He also included gems like myrmidon (a faithful follower of someone or some institution who follows orders without demur), oneiric (of, suggestive of or pertaining to dreams), proleptic (the act of anticipation) and exiguity which should baffle most used to anything similar; it means “a tiny quantity” and was from the Latin exiguus (scanty), the antonym for which was the Pythonesque sounding adaequatus, the perfect passive participle of adaequō, the construct being ad- (near, at; towards, to) +‎ aequō (make equal, level or smooth).

Apothaneintheloish will of late have gained a new audience with the publication in January 2024 of The Devil Prefers Mozart, On Music and Musicians, 1962-1993, a compilation (Carcanet Press, edited by Paul Phillips (b 1956), an associate professor at Stanford University)) of Burgess’s (mostly) previously published pieces on the topic of music (something he grants an unexpectedly wide vista).  Although now remembered mostly as a novelist and literary critic, his attachment to music was life-long, reflected in the breadth of the 75 chapters of essays, reviews and letters plus the odd interview & transcription.  The book is divided into five parts (1) Musical Musings which ranges from thoughts on Shakespeare to the Beatlemania of the 1960s and the punk movement a decade later, (2) Composers and Their Music which is a list hardly less eclectic, including Monteverdi, Mozart, Wagner & Kurt Weill, (3) Burgess and His Music, a more personal assortment of material including some intriguing liner notes, (4) Performers and Performances which includes some interesting reflections on the less obvious aspects of affording a primacy to “the singer rather than the song” and (5) Of Opera, the West’s supreme art form.  Of particular interest to some will the focus on some of the now less than fashionable British composers, notably William Walton (1902–1983) and Edward Elgar (1857–1934).

Gerti Deutsch's (1908–1979) photograph of Hans Keller (1919-1985), London, 1961.  Keller was a noted Freudian and would these days be thought a suspected postmodernist.

It’s really not even necessary to have any great interest in music to be amused by this book because probably without the reader realizing it, what is so often being explored is the interplay between words and music, Burgess understanding “everything is text” even before the postmodernists made a cult of it.  It’s worth reading also for the waspish comments about the Austrian-born music journalist Hans Keller, best understood after listening to the composition Homage to Hans Keller (1982), written by Burgess in reaction to Keller’s review of his opera Blooms of Dublin (1982) based on James Joyce’s (1882–1941) Ulysses (1922).  Scored for four tubas (which should be a hint), the “homage” was very much in the spirit of Metal Machine Music which in 1975 Lou Reed (1942–2013) handed to his record company.  In that vein, an irony of his fame was he became best known as the author of the novel A Clockwork Orange (1962) and that happened because of the notoriety achieved by the film version (1971), directed by Stanley Kubrick (1928–1999).

Cover of a first edition A Clockwork Orange (1962), signed by the author, (Aus$18,975.08 on eBay (left)) and a promotional poster for the film version (1971, right).  The film was based on the abridged US edition of the book which omitted the final chapter in which the protagonist undergoes something of a redemption.  That does make the work a different sort of morality tale but some critics thought the distinction slight, the film just too gratuitous in its depiction of sexual violence for the original's anyway ambiguous conclusion to be rendered much different. 

In Flame into Being (1985), his biography of DH Lawrence (1885–1930), Burgess would write: “The book I am best known for, or only known for, is a novel I am prepared to repudiate: written a quarter of a century ago, a jeu d’esprit (literally “game of the spirit” and used here to suggest something intended as a quick comment on an idea rather than anything carefully considered ) knocked off for money in three weeks, it became known as the raw material for a film which seemed to glorify sex and violence. The film made it easy for readers of the book to misunderstand what it was about, and the misunderstanding will pursue me till I die. I should not have written the book because of this danger of misinterpretation, and the same may be said of Lawrence and Lady Chatterley’s Lover (1928).”  Scholars cataloguing his papers later found A Clockwork Orange was some two years in the making but that he didn’t deign even to mention the book by name was an indication of something and many suspect he’d have been not unhappy if remembered for the book and not the film which gained him a new audience, if not exactly the one he’d have preferred.  However, for those who like words, The Devil Prefers Mozart, On Music and Musicians contains enough expected Burgessian gems (like apothaneintheloish) and there aren’t many other places to find multiguous, parthenogenetical, theodician, apodemoniosis, stichomythia or quinquennium.