Decadence

Decadence (pronounced dek-uh-duhns or dih-keyd-ns)

(1) The act or process of falling into an inferior condition or state; deterioration; decay.

(2) Synonyms: decline, retrogression, degeneration

(3) Moral degeneration or decay; turpitude.

(4) Unrestrained or excessive self-indulgence.

(5) The decadent movement in literature (often with an initial capital and extended sometimes to the visual arts).

1540–1550: From the early fifteenth century French décadence, from the Medieval Latin dēcadentia (decay), from the Late Latin dēcadent-, stem of dēcadēns (falling away), the present participle of the Vulgar Latin dēcadere (to fall away; to decay), an etymologically restored form of the Latin dēcidere (to fall away, fail, sink, perish”), the construct being de- (apart, down) + cadere (to fall (from the primitive Indo-European root kad- (to fall)).  The meaning “process of falling away from a better or more vital state” dates from the 1620s while the use to define epochs is traced by some historians to the sense used of “decadent” in 1837 by Thomas Carlyle (1795–1881): “…in a state of decline or decay (from a former condition of excellence)”, decadent from the from French décadent (a back-formation from décadence).  The use to refer (disparaging) the perceived corruption of literary values began in the 1850s and thirty years later was common in both French and English criticism.  The addition of the sense of decadence being “a form of self-indulgence” seems not to have emerged until the late 1960s when it was applied (negatively) to the counter-culture but modern commerce soon re-packaged to use it of products marketed as “desirable and satisfying”; creamy desserts were often so labeled and the cake “Chocolate Decadence” became a generic term, the recipes varying greatly in detail.  Originally, the term “decadence” was used of “a period of historical decline, particularly of empires or civilizations” but, from the late nineteenth century, it shifted to become a literary & artistic word describing a movement and later a type of moral or cultural behavior, particularly human behavior that is seen as self-indulgent or excessive.  Finally, it became the name of a chocolate cake, something (vaguely) linked to association philosophers and historians would make between the decline of civilizations declined from periods of greatness into moral and structural decay, often with a focus on materialism and indulgence.  Decadence & decadency are nouns, decadent is a noun & verb and decadently is an adverb; the noun plural is decadences.

The related adjective deciduous was from the Latin dēciduus (falling down or off), from dēcidō (fall down) and is now most familiar from the arboreal branch of biology where it describes trees which shed their leaves (variously in winter, the fall (autumn) or the dry season.  However, in the technical language of anatomy it’s used of body parts which fall off or are shed, at a particular time or stage of development (ie not the result of injury or disease) and more generally can be used figuratively of things transitory or ephemeral, this mostly as a literary device.  Obviously also related is the noun decay, from the Middle English decayen & dekeyen (to decrease, diminish), from the Anglo-Norman decaeir (to fall away, decay, decline), from the Vulgar Latin dēcadere.  Decay describes the process or result of being gradually decomposed; rot, decomposition and is widely used of qualities such as (1) a deterioration of condition; loss of status, quality, strength, or fortune, (2) civic, societal or moral decay and (3) systemic decay.  It was also once used of overthrows of governments and even now has a technical meaning in computer programming.

Lindsay Lohan arriving at the Maddox Gallery to attend the Tyler Shields (b 1982) Decadence exhibition private view, London, February 2016.

Despite the spelling, unrelated is the noun “decade”.  Decade (the spelling decad long obsolete) was from the Middle English decade, from the Old French decade, from the Late Latin decādem ((set of) ten), from the Ancient Greek δεκάς (dekás), from δέκα (déka) (ten).  In English, the reference to a “span of ten years” was originally a clipping of the phrase “decade of years”, that seeming tautology existing because over the centuries there have been also “decades of soldiers” (ie ten men), “decades of days” (in history a period of ten days, particularly those in the ancient Egyptian, Coptic, and French Revolutionary calendars, “decades of books” (a work in ten parts or books, particularly such divisions of Roman historian Livy’s (Titus Livius; 59 BC–17 AD) Ab Urbe Condita (literally “From the Founding of the City” and in English usually styled as History of Rome), “decades of prayers” (in the rituals of the Roman Catholic Church, a series of prayers counted on a rosary, typically consisting of an Our Father, followed by ten Hail Marys, and concluding with a Glory Be and sometimes the Fatima Prayer), “decades of stuff” (things which existed as a group, set or series of ten),  The dominant, modern sense of “a period of ten years” dates from the seventeenth century while the notion it “usually” is one beginning with a year ending in 0 and ending with a year ending in 9” was (more or less) formalized in the nineteenth.  In technical use “decade” has been re-purposed in some specialist fields including the Braille language (to refer to the various sets of ten sequential characters with predictable patterns), electronics (of devices or components used to represent digits and physics & engineering (of the interval between any two quantities having a ratio of 10 to 1).

For what most people do most of the time, a decade is “a period of ten years beginning with a year ending in 0 and ending with a year ending in 9” (ie the 1980s, 1990s etc) bit it remains correct that a decade can be any period of that duration (such as 1994-2003).  May style guides don’t approve of this, not because it’s technically wrong but because it can tend to confuse if things are not carefully phrased.  That seems wise advice although the suggestion terms like decennium or decennary can be a substitute for “non-standard” ten-year periods is unlikely to catch on.  Words nerds note that the computation protocol for something like “the 1970s” is xxx0-xxx9 whereas for “real” decades it’s xxx1-xxx0, following the practice for centuries and millennia, something which creates the certain anomalies because there was no “year 0”, the Western calendrical shifting directly from 1 BC to 1 AD.  “Decadence” and “decade” do however sometimes mix: the Japanese term Lost Decade (失われた10年) (Ushinawareta Jūnen) coined in the late 1990s to describe the period of national economic stagnation in precipitated by the collapse of the asset price bubble (notably Tokyo commercial floor-space) which began in 1990.  The phenomenon though endured and economists responded in subsequent decades by adding 失われた20年(lost 20 years) and 失われた30年 (lost 30 years).  The 2020s are showing little indication of a return to high growth and given Japan’s structural challenges (debt rations and an aging & declining population, there’s an expectation 失われた40年 will appear in the late 2020.

The other chocolate cake: Chocolate Decadence Soap by Heritage Downs: Aus$6.50 (inc GST) per cake; the gift for the chocaholic who has everything.

In the history of art or literary theory, “decadent” was in the nineteenth century iused to describe a period during which the output was “qualitatively in decline” compared with the (perceived) excellence of a former age.  Historically, it was applied to the Alexandrine period (300-30 BC) the period after the death of Augustus (Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus (known also as Octavianus (Octavian)); 63 BC-14 AD, founder of the Roman Empire (27 BC-476 AD) and first Roman emperor 27 BC-14 AD).  In modern use it’s applied to the late nineteenth century symbolist movement in France (the poetry a particular target).  The movement emphasized the autonomy of art (exemplified in the contemporary phrase l'art pour l'art (art for art's sake), the need for sensationalism & melodrama, egocentricity, the bizarre or (wholly or partially) artificial, and the superior “outsider” position of the artist who was “in” yet not quite unambiguously “of” society; a critic rather than a participant (which of course was a reference to middle-class (or bourgeois society).  What is now classified as “decadent” poetry was preoccupied with personal experience, self-analysis, perversity, the suffering of artists and elaborate and exotic sensations.

View of Amalfi (1844), pencil, ink & water colour by John Ruskin (1819-1900).

In France the exemplar of decadence was the poet & critic Charles Baudelaire (1821–1867) whose book of lyric poetry Les Fleurs du mal (The Flowers of Evil; the first version published in 1857) is regarded still a manifest of the movement (though some conservative critics prefer “cult”) and the deconstructions who trace the changes in tone (he continued to add material until his death) regard it as something of a “journal” of the times.  In English translation, Les Fleurs du mal is some 300 pages and, in the way of the movement, the poetic forms are not “traditional” and some of the imagery is as suggestive as the thematic motifs of eroticism, suffering, sin, evil and death which will delight some and repel others and the latter wishing to explore the movement might find more accessible the novel À rebours (Against the Grain (published also as Against Nature); 1884) by the French author & art critic Joris-Karl Huysmans (pseudonym of Charles-Marie-Georges Huysmans (1848–1907)); it’s a slimmer volume which English poet & critic Arthur Symons (1865–1945) would later describe as the movement’s “breviary” (in this context “a brief summary”).  There were many notable figures who devoted their lives to proving their allegiance to this aesthetic cult and the preoccupation with decay, ruins sadness and despair was appealing to nihilists and neo-Romantics, linked even with twentieth century German fascism which was styled (however misleadingly) as a revival of purity and a return to Classical roots.  It never caught on in quite the same way in the English-speaking world the influences are clear in the work of “excessively civilized” & “troubled” figures like the Irish writer Oscar Wilde (1854–1900) and English aesthete John Ruskin.

Chocolate Decadence Cake by Vegan Peace (Striving towards peacefully sharing our Earth).

Ingredients (wet & dry to be mixed separately)

1½ cups whole wheat pastry flour (or gluten-free all-purpose flour) (dry).
1 cup organic white sugar (not powdered) (dry).
3 tablespoons cocoa powder, sifted if lumpy (not Dutch process cocoa) (dry).
1 level teaspoon baking soda (dry).
¼ teaspoon sea salt (dry).
1 teaspoon vanilla extract (wet).
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar (wet).
1½ cup oil (sunflower, non-virgin olive, melted coconut, or safflower) (wet).
1 cup chocolate soymilk (wet).

Freaky Frosting Ingredients

5 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon non-hydrogenated margarine.
2¼cups plus 4 teaspoons organic powdered (confectioner's) sugar.
5 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon cocoa powder (sifted if lumpy).
2 teaspoons vanilla extract.
Pinch of sea salt.
½ cup chocolate soymilk.

Directions

(1) Preheat oven to 350° F (175° C).

(2) Oil 9 x 9 inch (230 x 230 mm) pan or a dozen muffin cups.

(3) Mix wet & dry ingredients separately ensuring each is lump-free and well-mixed.

(4) Gently combine wet-mix & dry-mix do not “over-mix” (the batter will at this point taste strange but this will disappear in the baking process.

(5) Pour mix into oiled baking pan or muffin cups and bake until the point where a knife inserted in the centre comes out clean (ie no trace of liquid or semi-liquid batter).  For cupcakes, this should take about 20 minutes; for the pan between 30-40 minutes.

(6) Remove from oven and allow cake to cool before frosting.

Frosting Directions

(7) Using electric beater, whip margarine in a large bowl until fluffy (do not over-whip.

(8) Slowly add in remaining ingredients one at a time, in the order listed.  Beat at high speed until very fluffy, using a rubber spatula to scrape down the sides of bowl as needed.

(9) Refrigerate frosting until cake has cooled.

(10) Frost cake, ideally after allowing frosting to warm to room temperature before serving cake.  A chocolate decadence may be decorated with edible flowers, raspberries, strawberries, chocolate shavings or whatever else seems to suit.

Plethora & Plethoric

Plethora (pronounced pleth-er-uh)

(1) Superfluity or excess; an overabundance.

(2) A large quantity or wide array; a great abundance.

(3) In re-modern medicine, , a morbid condition due to excess of red corpuscles in the blood or increase in the quantity of blood (archaic except for historic references); an excess of any of the body’s fluids (archaic).  Medieval apothecaries offered plethora of potions and concoctions to treat “redd face”.

(4) In modern pathology, an excess of Excess of blood in the skin, especially in the face and especially chronically.

1535-1545: From the Medieval Latin plēthōra, from the Ancient Greek plēthṓra or plēthōrē or plēthṓra (fullness; satiety) from plēthein (to be or grow full), from the primitive Indo-European pele (to fill).  The original use of the word was in medicine; later adopted by pre-modern pathology to describe a specific condition.  The modern, figurative meaning (too-muchness, overfullness) was in use by the early eighteenth century.  In figurative use the synonyms include excess, abundance, glut, myriad, surfeit, superfluity & slew while in medical use they’re hyperaemia & hyperperfusion.  The non clinical description of the apothecaries redd face include flushing, blushing, floridity & ruddiness (the condition rosacea (a chronic condition characterized by redness of the face) is treatable but incurable).  Plethoric is the adjective, plethorically the adverb.  Plethora is a noun; the noun plural is plethorae or plethoras.

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

Plethoric (pronounced ple-thawr-ik, ple-thor-ik or pleth-uh-rik)

(1) In speech or text, overfull; turgid; inflated; pompous.

(2) By extension, excessive, overabundant, rife; loosely, abundant, varied.

(3) In medicine, a patient suffering from plethora (ruddy in complexion, congested or swollen with blood).

(4) In medicine, of, relating to, or characterized by plethora.

1610–1620: From the Late Latin plethoricus, from the Hellenistic Ancient Greek πληθωρικός (plēthōrikós), from πληθώρα (plēthṓra) (plethora); It deconstructs as plethor(a) +‎ -ic.  The -ic suffix was from the Middle English -ik, from the Old French -ique, from the Latin -icus, from the primitive Indo-European -kos & -ḱos, formed with the i-stem suffix -i- and the adjectival suffix -kos & -ḱos.  The form existed also in the Ancient Greek as -ικός (-ikós), in Sanskrit as -इक (-ika) and the Old Church Slavonic as -ъкъ (-ŭkŭ); A doublet of -y.  In European languages, adding -kos to noun stems carried the meaning "characteristic of, like, typical, pertaining to" while on adjectival stems it acted emphatically; in English it's always been used to form adjectives from nouns with the meaning “of or pertaining to”.  A precise technical use exists in physical chemistry where it's used to denote certain chemical compounds in which a specified chemical element has a higher oxidation number than in the equivalent compound whose name ends in the suffix -ous; (eg sulphuric acid (H₂SO₄) has more oxygen atoms per molecule than sulphurous acid (H₂SO₃).  The use in medicine dates from the fourteenth century while the figurative senses (Excessive, overabundant, rife; loosely, abundant) in rhetoric (and later just about anything) emerged gradually after the seventeenth.  Plethoric is an adjective and plethorically is an adverb.

The apothecaries redd face

From Antiquity, through the medieval period and until as recently as some 200 years ago, it was medical orthodoxy that the plethoric (the primary symptom being a chronic reddishness of the face) was caused by an excess of the humor of yellow bile (xanthe chole).  Humoral (humor a translation of the Ancient Greek χυμός (chymos (literally juice or sap, figuratively flavor)) theory (known also as humorism or humoralism), was a system of medicine from Antiquity which provided a framework and description of the supposed workings of the human body.  It was the standard model for the philosophers and physicians of Ancient Greek and Rome and endured in Western medicine well into the nineteenth century when many of its assumptions about physical illness were disproved by germ theory and the understanding of the role of pathogens in disease.  The overturning of humoral theory was one of the landmarks in the origins of modernity.

In antiquity it was a concept rather than something with a standardized systemization and there existed competing models with more or fewer components but it’s because the description with four was that endorsed by the Greek physician Hippocrates (circa 460–circa 370 BC) that it became famous in the West and absorbed into medical practice.  The four humors of Hippocratic medicine are black bile (μέλαινα χολή (melaina chole)), yellow bile (ξανθη χολή (xanthe chole)), phlegm (φλέγμα (phlegma)) & blood (αἷμα (haima)), each corresponding with the four temperaments of man and linked also to the four seasons: yellow bile=summer, black bile=autumn, phlegm=winter & blood=spring.  In Hippocratic medicine, to be healthy, the four humors needed to be in balance and this, once achieved, was the state of enkrateia (from the Ancient Greek ἐγκράτεια (eukrasia) (in power), the construct being ἐν (en-) (in-) + κράτος (krátos) (power), a word which appears in the New Testament in the context of virtues (Acts 24:25, Galatians 5:23 & 2 Peter 1:6).  In the King James Version (KJV, 1611), it would be translated as "temperance", a word which went on to assume a life of its own.

Medieval apothecaries treated redness in the face (which may have been rosacea, sunburn, or a variety of internal or skin conditions) using a number of remedies based either on herbal medicine or humoral theory.  Some would to some extent have been have been efficacious, some worthless and some genuinely dangerous.  They included:

Herbal Remedies: (1) Rose water was frequently used both for it cooling and anti-inflammatory properties (applied directly to the skin to soothe redness and irritation), (2) Chamomile (one of medicine’s most ancient calmatives) was applied as a poultice or used in a wash to reduce inflammation and redness, (3) the flesh of the Aloe Vera plant was renowned for its soothing effect and was used to treat various skin conditions, including redness (it’s now recommended also as an alternative to shampoo and conditioner) and (4) cucumber was made into a topical paste and applied directly to the affected skin.

Cooling Agents: Diluted vinegar, often mixed with herbs, was applied to cool the skin and reduce redness. This was believed to balance the body's humors, particularly if the redness was thought to be caused by an excess of heat (choleric humor).

Minerals: (1) In severe or intractable cases (as chronic rosacea tends to be), Ceruse (white lead) was sometimes used to whiten and cover red or blemished skin (a treatment which would be though dangerous by modern standards) and (2) Calamine (a mineral compound) was used to treat skin irritation and reduce redness.  Calamine lotion remains one of the most effective treatments for minor skin irritations.

Humoral Treatments: (1) Until quite recently, it was common for skin redness (especially in the face) to be caused by an imbalance in the body's humors, especially an excess of blood (sanguine humor).  Phlebotomy (bloodletting) was often performed and there were specialists who practiced the trade exclusively (in the USSR (the old Soviet Union) it was still an orthodox treatment as recently as the 1950s, even comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) enjoying some sessions.  (2) Presumably as a result of empirical observation, a patient diet was identified as a contributory factor and the apothecaries followed the practice of the physicians from Antiquity, advising sufferers to eat “cooling foods” like cucumbers, lettuce, and melons, while avoiding “heating foods” such as spicy dishes and red meat.

Spectrum condition: The redness in the face of the honourable Barnaby Joyce (b 1967; thrice (between local difficulties) deputy prime minister of Australia 2016-2022) is used by his colleagues to gauge where his state of mind lies in the adjectival progression of the plethoric (left), the more plethoric (comparative; centre) and the most plethoric (superlative; right).  Mr Joyce’s symptoms (ambitious, leader-like, restless, easily angered) suggest an excess of yellow bile and to counteract this, Hippocrates recommended cold and wet foods such as cucumber or lettuce to bring the humors back into alignment.  Mr Joyce should adopt a cucumber & lettuce diet and it may be a good time for him to try it because he recently announced he'd given up alcohol, the abstinence inspired by a recent "incident" in which he was filmed lying drunk on the footpath (sidewalk) next to a Canberra planter box, conducting a mumbled, expletive-laden conversation with his wife.  He said he's since lost 15 kg (33 lb) and given up smoking (it not known if politicians lie about such claims).  Interestingly, political scientists seem generally to expect the well-publicized event (one of a number featuring Mr Joyce) would probably result in him increasing his margin at the next election (sprawled drunk in a city street making him "authentic" and "relatable").  When interviewed, the once "notorious drunkard" said: "Maybe at some stage I’ll have a beer again, but at the moment, nah".

Comet

Comet (pronounced kom-it)

(1) In astronomy, a celestial body moving about the sun, usually in a highly eccentric orbit, most thought to consist of a solid frozen nucleus, part of which vaporizes on approaching the heat from Sun (or other star) to form a gaseous, luminous coma (the envelope of dust and gas, the most dramatic part of which is the long, luminous tail which streams away from the sun (under the influence of solar winds).

(2) In astronomy, a celestial phenomenon with the appearance of such a body.

(3) Any of several species of hummingbird found in the Andes.

(4) In slang, as “vomit comet”, a reduced-gravity aircraft which, by flying in a parabolic flight path, briefly emulates a close to weightless environment.  Used to train astronauts or conduct research, the slang derived from the nausea some experience.

(5) In figurative use (often applied retrospectively and with a modifier such as “blazing comet”), someone (or, less commonly, something) who appears suddenly in the public eye, makes a significant impact and then quickly fades from view, their fleeting moment of brilliance a brief but spectacular event.

1150–1200: From the Middle English comete, partly from the Old English comēta and partly from the Anglo-French & Old French comete (which in Modern French persists as comète), all from the Latin comētēs & comēta, from the Ancient Greek κομήτης (komḗtēs) (wearing long hair; ling-haired), the construct being komē-, a variant stem of komân (to let one's hair grow), from κόμη (kómē) (hair) + -tēs (the agent suffix).  The Greek was a shortened form of ἀστὴρ κομήτης (astēr komētēs (longhaired star)), a reference to a comet’s streaming tail.  The descendants in other languages include the Malay komet, the Urdu کومٹ (komeṭ) and the Welsh comed.  Comet, cometlessness, cometography, cometographer, cometology & cometarium are nouns, cometless, cometic, cometical, cometocentric, cometary, cometographical & cometlike (also as comet-like) are adjectives, cometesimal is a noun & adjective; the noun plural is comets.

Comets orbit the Sun along an elongated path and when not near the heat, the body consists solely of its nucleus, thought to be almost always a solid core of frozen water, frozen gases, and dust.  When near the sun, the nucleus heats, eventually to boil and thus release the gaseous and luminous coma (the envelope of dust and gas), the most dramatic part of which is the long, luminous tail which streams away from the sun (under the influence of solar winds).  The path of a comet can be in the shape of an ellipse or a hyperbola; if a hyperbolic path, it enters the solar system once and then leaves forever while if it follows an ellipse, it remains in orbit around the sun.  Astronomer divide comets into (1) “short period” (those with orbital periods of less than 200 years and coming from the Kuiper belt) and (2) “long-period” (those with an orbital period greater than 200 years and coming from the Oort cloud).

Before the development of modern techniques, comets were visible only when near the sun so their appearance was sudden and, until early astronomers were able to calculate the paths of those which re-appeared, unexpected.  Superstition stepped in where science didn’t exist and comets were in many cultures regarded as omens or harbingers of doom, famine, ruin, pestilence and the overthrow of kingdoms or empires.  It was the English astronomer, mathematician and physicist Edmond Halley (1656–1742; Astronomer Royal 1720-1742) who in 1682 published the calculations which proved many comets were periodic and thus their appearance could be predicted.  Halley's Comet, named in his honor, remains the only known short-period comet consistently visible from Earth with the naked eye and remains the world’s most famous; it last appeared in 1986 and will next visit our skies in 2061.

Comet wine: Non-vintage Alois Lageder Natsch4 Vigneti Delle Dolomiti.

Halley’s findings put an end to (most) of the superstition surrounding comets but commerce still took advantage of their presence.  A comet with a famously vivid tail appeared in 1811 and in that year, Europe enjoyed a remarkably pleasant autumn (fall) which was most conducive to agriculture and became associated with the abundant and superior yield of the continental vineyards.  For that reason, the vintage was called the “comet wine” and the term became a feature in marketing the product which emerged from any year in which notable comets were seen, a superior quality alleged (and thus a premium price).  Wine buffs say any relationship between the quality of a vintage and the travel of celestial bodies is entirely coincidental.

Red Comet: The Short Life and Blazing Art of Sylvia Plath (2021) by Dr Heather Clark (b 1974).

One of things about the feminist cult which is now the construct of Sylvia Path (1932-1963) is that her mistreatment at the hands of her husband Ted Hughes (1930–1998; Poet Laureate 1984-2008) tends to obscure her work which many quite familiar with the story of her brief life will barely have read and that’s perhaps predictable, certainly for those for whom the lure of tales of tragic woman and brutish men is a siren.  As human tragedies go, her story is compelling: A precocious talent, the death of the father to whom she was devoted when only eight, the suicide attempt while a student and the burning ambition to write and be published.  Almost as soon as she met Ted Hughes she knew he was “my black marauder” and their affair was one of intense physicality as well as a devotion to their art, something which might have endured during their marriage (which produced two children) had Hughes not proved so unfaithful and neglectful.  In 1963, as an abandoned solo mother in a freezing flat during what entered history as London’s coldest winter of the century, she took her own life while her two babies slept nearby, becoming a symbol onto which people would map whatever most suited their purposes: the troubled genius, the visionary writer, a feminist pioneer and, overwhelmingly, a martyr, a victim of a man.  To his dying day, feminists would stalk literary events just to tell Hughes he had “Sylvia’s blood on his hands”.

So the story is well known and in the years since her death there have been a number of biographies, critical studies, collections of letters, academic conferences; given that, it’s seemed by the 2020s unlikely there was much more to say about one whose adult life spanned not even two decades.  For that reason the 1000-odd densely printed pages of Dr Heather Clark’s Red Comet: The Short Life and Blazing Art of Sylvia Plath was a revelation because, as the author pointed out, her life “has been subsumed by her afterlife” and what was needed was a volume which focused on what she wrote and why that output means she should be set free from the “cultural baggage of the past 50 years” and shown as “one of the most important American writers of the twentieth century.”

Sylvia Plath in Paris, 1956.

Red Comet is thus far this century’s outstanding biography and a feminist perspective is not required to recognize that when reading her last poems (written in obvious rage but sustaining a controlled tension few have matched) that she was a profoundly disturbed woman.  Most clinicians who have commented seem now to agree her depression of long-standing had descended to something psychotic by the time of her suicide, a progression she seems to have acknowledged, writing to one correspondent that she was composing poetry “on the edge of madness”.  This is though a biography written by a professional literary critic so it does not construct Plath as tale of tragedy and victimhood as one might if telling the story of some troubled celebrity.  Instead, the life is allowed to unfold in a way which shows how it underpins her development as a writer, the events and other glimpses of the person interpolated into the progress of a text through drafts and revisions, each word polished as the poet progresses to what gets sent to the publisher.  Red Comet is not a book for those interested in how much blame Ted Hughes should bear for his wife killing herself and in that matter it’s unlikely to change many opinions but as a study of the art of Sylvia Plath, it’s outstanding.  Unlike many figurative uses of "comet", Plath continues to blaze her trail. 

Pre-production de Havilland Comet (DH 106) with the original, square windows, England, 1949 (left) and Comet 4 (Registration G-APDN) in BOAC (British Overseas Airways Corporation (1939-1974 which in 1974 was merged with BEA (British European Airways) and others to later become BA (British Airways)) livery, Tokyo (Haneda International (HND / RJTT)), Japan October 1960.

The term hoodoo is often attached to objects thought jinxed.  When the de Havilland Comet (DH 106; the first commercial jet airliner), within a year of its first flight in 1949, began to suffer a number of catastrophic in-flight accidents, newspapers wrote of the “Comet hoodoo”, something encouraged because, in the pre “black-box” era, analysis of aviation incidents was a less exact science than now and for some time the crashes appeared inexplicable.  It was only when extensive testing revealed the reason for the structural failures could be traced to stresses in the airframe induced aspects of the design that the hoodoo was understood to be the operation of physics.  Other manufacturers noted the findings and changed their designs, Boeing's engineers acknowledging the debt they owed to de Havilland because it was the investigation of the Comet's early problems which produced the solutions which helped the Boeing 707 (1957) and its many successors to be the successful workhorses they became.  As a footnote, by the time the Comet 4 was released in 1958 the problems had been solved but commercially, the project was doomed and reputational damage done.  Between 1949-1964, barely more than 100 were sold although many did provide reliable service until 1981 and the airframe proved adaptable, dozens of military variants produced, the most notable being the Hawker Siddeley Nimrod, a maritime patrol version which was in service with the Royal Air Force (RAF) until 2011.

It’s because of the lessons learned from the Comet hoodoo that the apertures of airliner windows have rounded edges, the traditional four-cornered openings creating four weak spots prone to failure under stress.  In the early 1950s there was much optimism about the Comet and had it been successful, it could have given the UK’s commercial aviation industry a lead in a sector which rapidly would expand in the post war years.  One who didn’t express much faith in his country’s capacity to succeed in the field was the politician Duff Cooper (1890–1954) who, shortly before taking up his appointment as the UK’s ambassador to France, was flying on an Avro York (a transport and civil adaptation of the Lancaster heavy bomber) and he noted in his diary: “I think the designer of the York has discovered the shape of an armchair in which it is quite impossible to be comfortable, if this is typical of the civil transport plane in which were are to compete against the US, we are already beaten.”  As Lindsay Lohan’s smiles indicate, as least on private jets, the seats are now comfortable.

Not quite an Edsel, not yet a Mercury: The 1960 Comet; it was an era of imaginative (other use different adjectives) styling (and at this time they were still "stylists" and not "designers").

The Mercury Comet, built in four generations between 1960-1969 and another between 1971-1977, had a most unusual beginning.  The Ford Motor Company (“FoMoCo”, Mercury’s parent corporation) had in the mid 1950s studied the five-tier (Chevrolet, Pontiac, Oldsmobile, Buick, Cadillac) branding used by General Motors (GM) and decided it too would create a five divisional structure (which by 1955 Chrysler had also matched).  The GM model dated from the 1920s and was called the “ladder” (GM at times had more than five rungs) and the idea was each step on the later would take a buyer into a higher price (and at least theoretically more profitable) range of models.  There was a time when this approach made sense but even in the 1950s when Ford embarked on their restructure it was beginning to fragment, the implications of which would become apparent over the decades.  Thus Ford ended up (firefly) with five divisions: Ford, Mercury, Edsel, Lincoln and Continental.  That didn’t last long and Continental was the first to go, followed soon by the still infamous Edsel and the corporation even flirted with the idea of shuttering Lincoln.

1963 Mercury Comet S-22 Convertible.

The original plan had been for the Comet to be the “small Edsel” but by the time the release date drew close, the decision had been taken to terminate the Edsel brand so the Q&D (quick & dirty) solution was to sell the car through the Lincoln-Mercury dealer network, an expedient which lasted for the 1960 & 1961 model years before the Comet was integrated into the Mercury range and badged appropriately.  The early Comets were built on the Falcon platform (“compact” in contemporary US terms) but when the 1966 range was released, the cars became “intermediates” (ie the size between the “compact” and “full-size” platforms) but the Comet name was withdrawn from use after 1969.  It was in 1971 revived for Mercury’s companion to the Maverick, Ford’s replacement for the compact Falcon which slotted above the Pinto which was in a domestic class so compact the industry coined the class-designation “sub compact”.  Cheap to produce and essentially “disposable”, the Maverick and Comet proved so popular they continued in production for a season even after their nominal replacements were in showrooms.

1967 Mercury Comet Cyclone "R Code", one of 60 built that year with the 427 cubic inch (7.0 litre) FE side-oiler V8 and one of the 19 with a four-speed manual transmission.

The Mercury Comet has never attracted great interest from collectors because few were built with the more robust or exotic drive-trains found more frequently in both the competition from GM & Chrysler and the companion versions from Ford.  The mid-range performance package for the general market was the Comet Cyclone, introduced in 1964 to replace the Comet’s earlier S-22 option; neither were big sellers but they were not expensive to produce and remained profitable parts of the Mercury range.  In 1968, during the peak of the muscle car era, Mercury sought to promote the line, dropping the Comet name and promoting the machines as the “Cyclone”, now with quite potent engines although the emphasis clearly was drag racing rather than turning corners; the high performance package was now called the “Cyclone Spoiler”.  For the NASCAR circuits however, there was in 1969 the Cyclone Spoiler II, one of the so-called “aero cars”, the better known of which were the much more spectacular, be-winged Dodge Daytona (1969) and Plymouth Superbird (1970).  Chrysler’s cars looked radical to achieve what they did but the modifications which created the Mercury Cyclone Spoiler II and Ford Torino Talladega were so subtle as to be barely noticeable, the most effective being the increased slope on the lengthened nose, the flush grill and some changes which had the effect of lowering both the centre of gravity and the body.  The Ford and Mercury might have been a less spectacular sight than the Dodge or Plymouth but on the tracks the seeming slight tweaks did the job and both were among the fastest and most successful of their brief era.

1969 Mercury Cyclone Spoiler II (slab-sided but slippery, left), 1970 Mercury Cyclone Spoiler (sleek but less aerodynamic than its predecessor, centre) and the aborted 1970 Mercury Cyclone Spoiler II (handicapped out of contention by NASCAR, right).   

In 1970, just how aerodynamic was the 1969 Cyclone Spoiler was proved when the racing teams tried the new model which, although it looked sleek, was not as aerodynamically efficient and noticeably slower.  That might seem something of an own goal but Ford were blindsided by NASCAR’s decision to render the low-volume “aero cars” uncompetitive by restricting them to the use of 305 cubic inch (5.0 litre) engines while the conventional bodies were permitted to use the full 430 (7.0).  Thus the aerodynamic modifications planned for the 1970 Torino and Cyclone never entered production.  Of the two prototype Cyclone Spoiler IIs built, one survives revealing a nose which was in its own way as radical as those earlier seen on the Plymouth and Dodge.  In the collector market, the aero cars are much sought but the Cyclones are the least valued which may seem strange because they were on the circuits among the most successful of the era.  Market analysts attribute this to (1) the Cyclone Spoiler II (and Torino Talladega) being visually much less eye-catching than the wild-looking pair from Chrysler and (2) the Cyclone Spoiler II being sold only with a modest 351 cubic inch (5.8 litre) engine whereas the Fords ran 428s (7.0) and the Chryslers 440 (7.2) & 426 (6.9) units, the latter a version of the engine actually used in the race cars.

The highly qualified Kate Upton (b 1992) was in 2014 featured in a Sports Illustrated session filmed in a "vomit comet" (a modified Boeing 727 with a padded interior). 

Harbinger

Harbinger (pronounced hahr-bin-jer)

(1)  A person who goes ahead and makes known the approach of another; a herald (obsolete).

(2) An inn-keeper (obsolete)

(3) A person sent in advance of troops, a royal train, etc to provide or secure lodgings and other accommodations (obsolete).

(4) Anything that foreshadows a future event; omen; sign.

1125–1175: From the late Middle English herbenger, a nasalized variant of the Middle English herbegere, a dissimilated variant of Old French herberg(i)ere (host; lodging), the more common variant of which was herberg(ier) (to shelter).  In English, the late fifteenth century meaning and spelling was herbengar (one sent ahead to arrange lodgings (for a monarch, an army etc)), an alteration of the late twelfth century Middle English herberger (provider of shelter, innkeeper), from the Old French herbergeor (one who offers lodging, innkeeper) from herbergier (provide lodging), from herber (lodging, shelter), from the Frankish heriberga (lodging, inn (literally “army shelter”))from the Germanic compound harja-bergaz (shelter, lodgings), related was the Old Saxon and Old High German heriberga (army shelter) from heri (army) + berga (shelter) which is the root also of the modern harbor.  Origin of the Frankish heriberga was the Proto-Germanic harjaz (army) + bergô (protection).  Related were the German herberge, the Italian albergo, and the Dutch herberg.  The sense of "forerunner; that which precedes and gives notice of the coming of another" developed in the mid-sixteenth century while the intrusive (and wholly unetymological) -n- is from the fifteenth century.  Use as a verb began in the 1640s; to harbinge (to lodge) was first noted in the late fifteenth century.

Harbinger of Autumn (1922) by Paul Klee (1879-1940), watercolor and pencil on paper bordered with watercolor and pen, mounted on card, Yale University Art Gallery.

Death and Destruction

The original, late medieval, meaning of harbinger was “lodging-house keeper”, one who harbors people for the night, the word derived from harbourer or, as it was then spelled herberer or herberger.  Herberer derives from the French word for inn (auberge) and “Ye herbergers…” are referred to as the hotel managers of their day in the Old English text The Lambeth Homilies, circa 1175.  By the thirteenth century, harbinger had shifted meaning, referring now to a scout who went ahead of a military formation or royal court to book lodgings and meals for the oncoming horde.  This is the source of the modern meaning of “an advance messenger” that we understand now, Geoffrey Chaucer (circa 1344-1400) apparently the first to adopt the form in The Man of Law's Tale (circa 1386):

The fame anon thurgh toun is born

How Alla kyng shal comen on pilgrymage,

By herbergeours that wenten hym biforn

A modern translation of which is:

The news through all the town was carried,

How King Alla would come on pilgrimage,

By harbingers that went before him

In Modern English, harbinger exists only in a metaphorical sense meaning forerunner or announcer.  In the narrow technical sense, almost anything can be harbingered; a warm day in late winter can be a harbinger of spring but popular use, in this gloomy age, is now almost exclusively of harbingers of pain, suffering, doom, death and destruction.

I grew. Foul weather, dreams, forebodings

Were bearing me - a Ganymede -

Away from earth; distress was growing

Like wings - to spread, to hold, to lead.

 

I grew. The veil of woven sunsets

At dusk would cling to me and swell.

With wine in glasses we would gather

To celebrate a sad farewell,

 

And yet the eagle's clasp already

Refreshes forearms' heated strain.

The days have gone, when, love, you floated

Above me, harbinger of pain.

 

Do we not share the sky, the flying?

Now, like a swan, his death-song done,

Rejoice! In triumph, with the eagle

Shoulder to shoulder, we are one.

I grew. Foul weather, dreams, forebodings… by Boris Pasternak (1890-1960).

The phrase “a crypto-fascist...harbinger of Doom” isn’t a quote from one of Gore Vidal’s (1925–2012) many thoughts on William F Buckley (1925–2008) but comes from a review by Rachel Handler (a senior editor at Vulture and New York) of Lindsay Lohan’s Netflix film Irish Wish (2024).  While it’s not unknown for reviewers to take movies seriously, it’s unlikely many rom-coms have ever been thought to demand deconstruction to reveal they’re part of a “…larger sociopolitical plot to maintain the status quo, quell dissent, replace much of the workforce with AI, install a permanent Christian theocratic dictator, and make Ireland look weird for some reason.”

The piece is an imposing 3½ thousand-odd words and should be read by students of language because, of its type, it’s an outstanding example but for those who consume rom-coms without a background in critical theory it may be wise first to watch the film because the review includes the plot-line.  If having watched and (sort of) enjoyed the film, one should then read the review and hopefully begin faintly to understand why one was wrong.  Ms Handler really didn’t like the thing and having already damned Ms Lohan’s first Netfix production (Falling for Christmas (2022)) as “a Dante’s Inferno-esque allegory”, she’s unlikely much to be looking forward to the promised third.  All should however hope she writes a review.