Ginger

Ginger (pronounced jin-jer)

(1) Any of several zingiberaceous plants of the genus Zingiber (especially Zingiber officinale of the East Indies), native to South Asia but now cultivated in many tropical countries and noted for the pungent, spicy rhizome used in cooking and medicine (Ginger is one of the oldest known “anti-seasickness treatments).

(2) The underground stem of this plant, used fresh or powdered as a flavouring or crystallized as a sweetmeat.

(3) The rhizome of Zingiber officinale, ground, chopped etc, used as a flavoring.

(4) In informal use, piquancy; animation; liveliness; vigour.

(5) A reddish-brown or yellowish-brown colour

(6) A female given name, form of Virginia or Regina (also used of red-headed men as a nickname).

(7) In zoology, a given name for animals having ginger- or orange-coloured fur or feathers.

(8) Flavored or made with ginger, the spicy rhizome of the Zingiber officinale plant.

(9) In informal use, someone with “red” hair (a range which includes the various shades of ginger).

(10) In cockney rhyming slang, a bit of a homosexual (based on “ginger beer” (ie “queer”)).

(11) In slang, Ginger ale, or can or bottle of such (especially if dry).

(12) In colloquial use in Scotland (prevalent especially in Glasgow), any fizzy soft drink, or can or bottle of such (especially the famous Iron Brew).

(13) To treat or flavor with ginger, the spicy rhizome of the Zingiber officinale plant (to add ginger to).

(14) In informal use, to impart piquancy or spirit to; enliven (usually in the form “ginger up”).

(15) As a regionalism, very careful or cautious (also, delicate; sensitive).

Pre 1000: From the Middle English gingere, an alteration of gingivere, from the Old English ginȝifer & ginȝiber (gingifer & gingiber) (influenced by Old French gingivre & gingembre), from the Medieval Latin gingiber & zingiber (the Latin zingiberi from the late Ancient Greek ζιγγίβερις (zingíberis)), from the Prakrit (Middle Indic) singabera, from the Sauraseni Prakrit śr̄ngaveram, the construct being śr̄nga- (horn) + vera- (body), an allusion to the typical shape of the plant’s root when harvested which may be compared with the Old Tamil iñcivēr and the Tamil இஞ்சிவேர் (iñcivēr), the construct being இஞ்சி (iñci) (ginger) + வேர் (vēr) (root)).  Not all etymologists agree with the orthodox derivation of śr̄ngaveram, suggesting it may be Sanskrit folk etymology and the word may be from an ancient Dravidian word that also produced the modern name for the spice used in the Tamil.  The dissidents argue the Tamil iñci must at some point have had an initial “ś” and the Sanskrit śṛṅgabera was an imitation of the (supposititious) Tamil ciñcivēr with the European zingiber coming from the Tamil name.  Ginger is a noun, gingerness & gingerliness are nouns, gingering is a verb, gingered is a verb & adjective, gingerish, singersome, gingerlike & gingerish are adjectives, gingerly is an adjective & adverb and gingerliness is an adverb; the noun plural is gingers. The adjectives ginger-free & gingerless are non-standard but have appeared on menus and in the software in restaurant PoS (point-of-sale systems).  The adjectives gingerer & gingerest do exist but are now so rare as to be archaic.

It’s believed the word re-entered Middle English under the influence of twelfth century Old French gingibre (which in Modern French endures as gingembre).  As a reference to coloring, the first recorded use was of fighting cocks, dating from 1785, extended to persons exactly a century later (although of hair alone it was used thus in the 1850s).  The sense of “spirit, spunk, temper” was a creation of mid nineteenth century US English. Ginger-ale was first advertised in the early 1820s, the term adopted by manufacturers to distinguish their product from ginger beer (on sale since 1809 and the central exhibit in Donoghue v Stevenson [1932] AC 562, a landmark case in tort law, heard before the House of Lords) which sometimes was fermented.  The ginger-snap was a hard cookie (biscuit in UK use) flavored with ginger, the product on sale by at least 1855.

Arnott’s Ginger Nuts.

In various forms and sold under several names (ginger-snap, ginger biscuit, ginger cookie, gingernut etc), ginger snaps are one of the planet’s most popular cookies (biscuits) and while ginger (usually powdered because it’s most suited to the industrial production of food) obviously is the common flavoring, other ingredients sometimes used include cinnamon, molasses and cloves.  The recipes vary although all tend to produce hard, brittle cookies and are much favoured by those who lie to dunk the things in their tea or coffee (softening it) which does seem to defeat the purpose but dunking really is a thing.  Between countries ginger-snaps differ greatly but even within markets there are culinary regionalisms: The Griffin’s Gingernut is New Zealand’s biggest selling biscuit and the whole country is supplied using the same recipe but in Australia, Arnott’s Ginger Nuts vary in size, color, hardness and taste between states and that was not a deliberate corporate decision but the product of M&A (mergers & acquisitions) activities beginning in the 1960s when the Arnott’s Group was created, a number of previously independent local bakeries absorbed; fearing a revolt, it was decided to retain the long-established recipes.  All Ginger Nut biscuits are sold in 250g packages but while WA (Western Australia), SA (South Australia) and the NT (Northern Territory) share a common “sweet” mixture, those living in Victoria and Tasmania enjoy an even sweeter flavour (closer to similar biscuits sold overseas which are both larger and softer in texture).  In NSW (New South Wales) and the ACT (Australian Capital Territory) a “thick and hard” Ginger Nut is sold and Queensland (always different) enjoys a unique “thin, sweet and dark” product.  Arnott’s also revealed as well as differences in the mix, the baking time varies between varieties, accounting for the color and hardness.  For those wishing to make comparisons, there’s a choice of comparatives: (“more ginger” or (the rare) “gingerer” and superlatives: “most ginger” or (the rare) “gingerest”.

Lindsay Lohan (b 1968) and her sister Ali (b 1993) making gingerbread houses on the Drew Barrymore (b 1975) Show (CBS Media Ventures), November, 2022.

The noun gingerbread was from the late thirteenth century gingerbrar (preserved ginger), from the Old French ginginbrat (ginger preserve), from the Medieval Latin gingimbratus (gingered,) from gingiber.  It was folk etymology which changed the ending to -brede (bread) and in that form the word was in use by the mid-1300s; by the fifteenth century it had come to mean “sweet cake spiced with ginger” although the still popular confection “gingerbread man” wasn’t known until circa 1850.  The figurative use (indicating anything thought fussy, showy or insubstantial) can be regarded a sort of proto-bling and emerged around the turn of the seventeenth century; in domestic architecture or interior decorating it was used as a critique by at least the late 1750s, use possibly influenced by the earlier “gingerbread-work” which was sailor’s slang for the often elaborately carved timberwork on ships.  Bling not then being in use, the term “gingerbread” often was used of the increasingly rococoesque detailing being applied to US cars by the late 1950s and it was revived as the interiors became “fitted out” in the 1970s although stylists (they weren’t yet “designers”) preferred “gorp”.  Decades before, as a noun, becoming Detroit styling studio slang, gorp was (as a verb) defined as meaning “greedily to eat” and it’s believed the alleged acronyms “good old raisins and peanuts” & “granola, oats, raisins, peanuts” are probably backronyms.  What the stylists were describing was the idea of “adding a bit of everything to the design”, the concept illustrated by creations such as the 1958 Buick, the design imperative of which was "combine as many as possible differently-shaped chrome bits & pieces".  Gorp intrinsically was "added on gingerbread" and shouldn't be confused with something like the 1958 Lincoln which was relative unadorned (ie un-gorped) and gained its distinctiveness from the design imperative "combine as many as possible shapes, curves, lines & scallops.  Of course, the two approaches can appear in unison, witness the 1961 Plymouths.

Some of Detroit's guesswork about public taste: 1958 Buick Limited (gingerbread, left), 1958 (Lincoln) Continental Mark III (shapes, right) and 1961 Plymouth Fury (everything, right).

The phrase “gin up” (enliven, make more exciting) is now often used as “gee-up” but the original was first recorded in 1887 (“ginning” (the act of removing seeds from cotton with a cotton gin) in use by at least 1825) and while it’s been speculated there may be some link with “gin” (in the sense of “engine”, the best known being the “cotton gin”) most etymologists think it improbable and think it more likely the origin lies in the characteristics if the root of the plant as used in food (spicy, pizzazz) and most compelling is the entry for feague (used in its equine sense): “...to put ginger up a horse's fundament, and formerly, as it is said, a live eel, to make him lively and carry his tail well; it is said, a forfeit is incurred by any horse-dealer's servant, who shall shew a horse without first feaguing him.”  The figurative use of feague (encouraging or spiriting one up) has faded but “gee up” remains common.”  So, for dressage or other equestrian competitions in which the judges liked to see a horse’s tail elegantly raised (al la the high ponytail perfected by the singer Ariana Grande (b 1993)), a stable-hand’s trick for achieving this was to insert an irritant (such as a piece of peeled raw ginger or a live eel) in its anus, an additional benefit being it “increased the liveliness of the beast”.  That means when modern young folk speak of “geeing up” or a “a gee up”, they’re referring (figuratively) to shoving some ginger up someone’s rectum; presumably, most are unaware of the linguistic tradition.

Ariana Grande and ponytail.

According to Ariana Grande, the “snatched high ponytail” she made her signature look was better described as a “high extension ponytail” because extensions were used for added length and volume.  It’s a dramatic look but the health and beauty site Self cautioned wearing the style is not risk-free and for some wearers pain may be unavoidable.  Interviewed, dermatologist Dr Samantha Conrad explained hair follicles are the “little pockets of skin that surround the root of a hair” while the “nerves and blood vessels in the scalp feed those roots”.  What happens when hair is pulled tightly back and elevated, it puts the hair “at a sharp angle”, placing “tension on the follicles”, causing “some strangulation of the unit”.  Because this tension is exerted on the nerve endings, there can be pain, something exacerbated if the hair is long and thick (or augmented with extensions) because the extent of the tension is so influenced by weight, physics dictating additional mass will induce greater “traction on the hair follicle”.  Pain obviously can be an issued but the consequences can be more serious, dermatologist Dr Joshua Zeichner explaining “chronic traction on the hair follicles can cause permanent thinning of the hair”, a phenomenon described as “traction alopecia”.

Ariana Grande, on stage, Coachella, November, 2018.

Ominous as all that sounds, the doctors say it’s not necessary entirely to abandon the high ponytail because the issue isn’t the style but the implementation, the critical factor being how tightly the hair is pulled from the scalp.  Tension alopecia can occur with any tightly-pulled ponytail, plait or braid so the trick is to avoid excessive tension, the recommended approach to create a “high pony” and then gradually loosen the area in front of the elastic.  Obviously, the greater the mass of the hair, physics  dictates it will be less inclined to retain a shape tending from the vertical at the scalp so those handling much volume will probably have to resort to some sort of at least semi-rigid tubular device through which the strands can pass to be supported.

Roland DG's 50 Shades of Ginger illustrates the extent to which the spectrum can spread (centre).  Natural redhead Lindsay Lohan (b 1986, left) in 2012 illustrates a classic implementation of what most probably thing of as “ginger hair” while Jessica Gagen (b 1996; Miss England 2022, Miss World Europe 2023 & Miss United Kingdom 2024) appears (during heatwave, right) with what would be classified by many as a “light copper” rather than some hue of “ginger”.  Interestingly, reflecting the often disparaging use of the word (in the context of hair) “ginger” appears only infrequently on manufacturers' hair dye color charts.

Ginger can be used to describe those with “red” hair (a term which covers quite a range including shades of ginger in the conventional sense that is used of color) and such may be jocular, in disparagement or neutral.  In slang, a “ginger minger” was “an unattractive woman with ginger hair” and their “ginger minge” was their pubic hair; the male equivalent was a “ginger knob”.  In the hierarchy of vulgar slang, fire-crotch (a person who has red pubic hair) probably is worse but it should not be confused with “lightning crotch” (in obstetrics, the condition (suffered late in pregnancy), of having intense pain shoot through the vaginal area, induced especially by the baby's head lowering and bumping into the pelvis).  While a “normal symptom of pregnancy” and not typically a cause for medical intervention, it can be unpleasant; what is happening is the fetus is applying pressure on the cervix or the nerves surrounding the cervix (the cervix the lowest part of the uterus where a fetus develops).

One with a preference for ginger-haired souls could be said to be a gingerphile while one with an aversion would be a gingerphobe.  The matter of gingerphobia was explored by the US television cartoon show South Park (on Paramount+'s Comedy Central since 1997) in the episode Ginger Kids (season 9, episode 11, November 2005) in which was introduced the noun gingervitis (a portmenteau word, the construct being ginger +‎ (ging)ivitis); in pathology, the condition gingivitis is an inflammation of the gums or gingivae.  What South Park’s writers did was provide the gingerphobic with something of a rationale, gingervitis treating red headedness as if it were a disease or affliction.  Linguistically, it could have been worse: in German the synonym for gingivitis is the compound noun Zahnfleischentzündung and “zahnfleischentzündungvitis” sounds an even more distressing condition.  Neither gingerphobia nor gingervitis have ever appeared in the American Psychiatric Association's (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (the DSM, in nine editions 1952-2022). 

In Cockney rhyming slang (a cant used by Cockneys in which a word or phrase is replaced by a rhyming word or phrase, this word or phrase then often being abbreviated to its first syllable or syllables, or its first word with the word chosen as the rhyme sometimes sharing attributes with the word it replaces) “ginger” meant “a bit of a homosexual” (based on the “beer” in “ginger beer” (ie “queer”)).  If that didn’t please, there was also (1) “Brighton Pier” (queer from “pier”), (2) “iron” (poof from “iron hoof”), (3) “perry” (homo from “Como) (this was purely phonetic, the popular singer Perry Coma (1912-2001) was not gay) and (4) “haricot” (queen from “haricot bean).  However, the guides caution “stoke” (bent from “Stoke-on-Trent”) references “bent” in the sense of both “gay” and “criminal” so it should be deployed with care.

The modest root of the plant (partially sliced, top left) and some of the packaged confectionery which are ginger-based.

For a variety of purposes (culinary, zoological, botanical, geological etc, dozens of derived forms have been created including: African ginger, aromatic ginger, baby ginger, black ginger, bleached ginger, blue ginger, butterfly ginger, Canada ginger, Chinese ginger, Cochin ginger, common ginger, dry ginger, Egyptian ginger, gingerade, ginger ale, ginger beer, gingerbread, ginger bug, ginger cordial, gingerette, ginger grass, ginger group, ginger-hackled, Ginger Island, gingerism, gingerlike, gingermint, ginger ninja, ginger nut, gingernut, gingerol, gingerous, gingerphobe, gingerphobia, ginger-pop, ginger root, gingersnap, gingersome, ginger wine, gingery, gingette, green ginger, Indian ginger, Jamaica ginger, Japanese ginger, kahili ginger, knock down ginger, knock-knock ginger, limed ginger, mango ginger, new ginger, pinecone ginger, pink ginger, race ginger, red ginger, sand ginger, sea ginger, shampoo ginger, shell ginger, Siamese ginger, spiral ginger, spring ginger, stem ginger, stone-ginger, Thai ginger, torch ginger, white ginger, wild ginger, yellow ginger & young ginger.

In De materia medica (On Medical Material), his five volume encyclopedic pharmacopeia on herbal medicine and related medicinal substances, the Ancient Greek physician Pedanius Dioscorides (circa 40-circa 90) included an entry for ζιγγίβερις (zingiberis) (ginger) as treatment for stomach and digestive ailments, in addition to its properties as “a warming spice”.  The historian Pliny the Elder (24-79) also discussed zingiber, noting its origin from Arabia and India and the use in medicine, especially for the stomach and digestion.  The use was picked up by physicians (officially recognized and not) in many places, both as a stimulant and acarminative (preventing the development of gas in the digestive tract) but despite the persistent myth, no document has ever been unearthed which suggests in Antiquity ginger was ever recommended as “sea-sickness medicine”.  Despite that, in the modern age, ginger is sometimes promoted as a cure (or at least an ameliorant) for nausea suffered at sea, in flight, while driving or motion-sickness in general and there appears to be some evidence to support the use.

Google ngram for Ginger group: Because of the way Google harvests data for their ngrams, they’re not literally a tracking of the use of a word in society but can be usefully indicative of certain trends, (although one is never quite sure which trend(s)), especially over decades.  As a record of actual aggregate use, ngrams are not wholly reliable because: (1) the sub-set of texts Google uses is slanted towards the scientific & academic and (2) the technical limitations imposed by the use of OCR (optical character recognition) when handling older texts of sometime dubious legibility (a process AI should improve).  Where numbers bounce around, this may reflect either: (1) peaks and troughs in use for some reason or (2) some quirk in the data harvested.

In another example of why English (in some ways simple and logical) must seem bafflingly inconsistent to those learning the tongue, while “ginger up” and “ginger group” are phrases related to “imparting piquancy or enlivening someone or something”, to speak of proceeding “gingerly” means “acting hesitantly; with great caution”.  The explanation is the divergence is not the result of a word shifting meaning in two directions but instead two different etymologies converging phonetically in modern English.  The figurative sense of “ginger up” (familiar to the young as “gee up”) meaning “add energy or enthusiasm) emerged in the nineteenth century and came from the equestrian practice of putting ginger (or so some other irritants) in or near a horse’s anus so it would be more “spirited” (performing with greater verve or liveliness) and appear with its tail held high.  From this (the expression rather than stuff shoved in the rectum) came “ginger group” which described a (usually) small and energetic faction within a larger organization which aimed to stimulate or invigorate change or action.  The first known use of the term was in 1920s British politics.

Confusingly “gingerly” is unrelated to “ginger” and has nothing to do with novel uses of spice in equine management.  Developing in parallel with but separately from Middle English, gingerly was from the Old French gensor & gencier (which endures in Modern French as gentil (delicate; dainty), from the Latin gentilis.  Appending the suffix -ly turned adjective into adverb and by the sixteenth century gingerly came to mean “delicately, with grace or refinement” and by the early 1900s the idea of a “refined or dainty manner” evolved into “cautiously; with care”.  Gingerly is thus a “false cognate” with ginger (the spice).  There the linguistic tangle should end but because of the development of modern slang, “ginger” has established an (informal) link with “gingerly” through “gingerness” which can be both (1) a synonym for “gingerliness” (a gingerly state, attitude or behaviour and (2) in informal (sometimes derogatory) use: redheadedness.

Bibliosmia

Bibliosmia (pronounced bib-lee-oz-mee-ah)

(1) The pleasant aroma issuing from (usually older) books.

(2) The smell of books, pleasing or not (contested).

2014: A compound word, the construct being biblio- + -osmia, bibliosmia was a neologism coined by English academic Dr Oliver Tearle and released into the wild in a (since deleted) tweet on X (then called Twitter) on 24 February 2014; the original definition was “the act of smelling books”.  Biblio was (via an uncertain path) from the Ancient Greek βιβλίον (biblíon) (small book) which originally was a diminutive of βίβλος (bíblos) (book), from βύβλος (búblos) (papyrus) (the name from the ancient Phoenician city of Byblos, which manufactured and exported papyrus to be used as writing material).  In Esperanto (the most widely used of the IALs (international auxiliary language), construction of which began late in the nineteenth century) Biblio meant “Bible” and thus was always capitalized.  The constructed suffix –(o)smia was from the Latin osmia, nominative, accusative & vocative plural of osmium, from the Ancient Greek ὀσμή (osmḗ), (stench, stink), referring to the smell of its tetroxides (any oxide containing four oxygen atoms in each molecule).  Deconstructed, bibliosmia translates as “booksmell” which sounds less than compelling and is an indication why Dr Tearle turned to Ancient Greek for a veneer of linguistic respectability.  He risked the wrath of the purists who don’t approve of mixing Greek with Latin when forming neologisms but doubtless would note the constructed suffix came ultimately from the Greek.  Bibliosmia is a noun.  Because it remains a neologism not yet acknowledged even by descriptive dictionaries (ie those which document language as it’s used rather than listing “standard words”), there are no derive forms but plausibly some could be constructed as needed including:

Bibliosmiaphile: One who loves the smell of old books (or all books if one accepts the more recent, wider definition of bibliosmia).

Bibliosmiaphilia: The love of the smell of books.

Bibliosmiaphobia: An aversion to the smell of books which really would be a thing because many have heightened sensitivity to odors; theis neen not have anything to do with a dislike of books.

Bibliosmic: The adjectival form.

Bibliosmatous: Another adjectival form.

Bibliosmiac: A noun which could be used of those with the predilection (or re-purposed as an adjective).

Dr Tearle is a lecturer in English at Loughborough University in the English county of Leicestershire and curates the blog Interesting Literature: A Library of Literary Interestingness.  His neologism bibliosmia has (to a small but appreciative audience) proved a popular addition to the tongue but bibliophiles are a tough crowd to please and there has been only restrained enthusiasm for his offering colygraphia (writer's block).  The construct of colygraphia was coly- +. graphia.  Coly- (which is used also as “cœly-”) was not a standard Greek prefix; it was a phonetic constructed from the Ancient Greek κολύω (kolýō) (I hinder, prevent, obstruct, forbid) which was related to κόλυσις (kólysis) (hindrance, prevention).  The suffix -graphia (which Latin picked up as –graphia) was from the Ancient Greek –γραφία, from the noun γραφή (graphḗ) (writing, drawing, description, or representation) from the root verb γράφω (gráphō) (to write, to draw, to inscribe).

Noted bibliosmiaphile Lindsay Lohan with books.

The different fates of bibliosmia (which has been embraced) and colygraphia (which has been ignored except by sites listing it as a word which has been ignored) illustrate how words are little different from memes or pop songs: some catch on and some don’t.  Bibliosmia had the advantage of being a word which evoked in many a fond memory and when defined, probably summoned in the senses a memory of such a smell (even one imagined) and smell is a powerful trigger.  By contrast, for most, “writer’s block” wouldn’t have a positive association.  The book fiends might have been impressed more by a construct like laudagraphia or porlocgraphia (allusions to Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s (1772-1834) now discounted excuse for bouts of writer’s block) and while neither exactly stick to the conventions of word construction, the respectability of the literary connection will be compensation.

Aroma Retail explains the chemistry of the smell of books, old & new.

It’s the interaction of chemical processes over time which lends old books the characteristic smell so many seem genuinely to enjoy.  Because there are regional and historic variations in the ways books have been produced, the fragrances which waft from the leaves can vary and this is something subject also to the environment in which the volumes are stored (temperature, light, air quality, humidity etc).  Because books contain a mix (which as technology evolved became more complex) of VOCs (volatile organic compounds), as materials (paper, ink, binding adhesives) fragment and degrade, tiny particles of solids are separated and microscopic volumes of gas are trapped; when a book is opened, some of these fragments some of the gas is released, propelled into the surrounding atmosphere by the pressure created by the movement of the pages.  Mildew or mold (found especially where storage conditions are less than ideal (especially regarding exposure to moisture)) can contribute their own musty or earthy odor but mostly it’s a product of slow chemical decomposition and can be thought a kind of olfactory record of time, materials, and conditions.  The mechanical processes which produce the scent includes:

(1) Lignin breakdown. Lignin is a natural polymer in wood pulp and was once commonly used in the production of paper; as it degrades, it produces vanillin (the same compound that gives vanilla its smell), along with phenols and other aromatic compounds.  Among the most significant of the compounds contributing to the palette of “old book smells” are toluene which produces sweet aromas & furfural which adds almond and coffee overtones.  Combined with the vanilla-like emanations from vanillin, what emerges is a sweet aroma and this is part of the appeal, our fondness for the sweet pre-dating even the emergence of the human species and related to our eternal quest for fat, salt & sugar.

(2) Cellulose degradation: Paper is composed largely of cellulose and this breaks down into compounds like furfural and acetaldehyde (both of which contribute to sweet, almond-like or grassy smells).

(3) Acetic and other acids: These give off a slightly vinegar-like tang, something exacerbated by being stored in places with high humidity.

(4) Binding glues and leather: Before the development of modern, mass-produced synthetics, most glues were animal-based (the origin of the nickname “glue factory” for the knackeries where “slow racehorses” were sent for “processing”) and these typically, over time (and again influenced by environmental conditions) released a musty or slightly sweet odor.  Leather bindings contribute aldehydes and other organic compounds, each with a distinctive scent.

Bibliosmia (n.) The smell and aroma of old or good books (2022) by Kendaric Imahso & Mirana Imahso.  A journal of 110 pages, it's described as a Reading Log, Bookworm Journal, Book Review, Book Lovers Organizer & Bibliophile’s Logbook Paperback.

This is the stuff which people smell and what aficionados call bibliosmia.  As a technical point, although there’s doubtlessly much overlap, not all bibliophiles are bibliosmists.  A bibliophile can be either (1) one who loves books or (2) one who collects books and among the latter, there are many who are interested not at all in the content, focused instead on things rarity, condition (dust jackets a fetish), publication date (first editions much sought), the presence of the author’s signature, perhaps with an inscription (dedicated ideally to someone famous or infamous) and details of construction (hardback; leather bound etc).  While there are collectors who cherish both the object and the text within, many are essentially just traders for whom the value of a book lies in the profits to be made.  Almost all probably notice the odours (there is “new book smell” and “old book smell”) but only some truly relish the experience.

Amorphous Antique Book Perfume Oil. 

Conceptually, oils and sprays which provide an "old book" or "book shop" fragrance are similar to the "leather smell" sprays now available for those with cars with vinyl upholstery.  The best of the modern vinyls are now visually indistinguishable from leather but some still long for the incomparable olfactory experience.  Those with fond memories of hours among the stacks in libraries or browsing through bookshops can at home burn Antique Book Perfume Oil in their oil burners, enhancing the reading experience. 

That experience is a construct and one valued not because of the intrinsic characteristics of the aroma(s) but because of the memories which can be triggered.  Researchers long ago determined smell is a uniquely powerful trigger of memories because of the way the brain processes olfactory information through direct and primal pathways deeply tied (hard-wired the popular if somewhat misleading term) to emotion and memory.  What the neurology community discovered was that uniquely among the five senses, smell was the only one to bypass the thalamus (the brain’s sensory “relay station”), going directly to the olfactory bulb which has intimate connections to (1) the amygdala (governing emotions) and (2) the hippocampus (memory formation).  As an evolutionary advantage, what the arrangement meant was information from a critical sensor of danger (smell) was almost immediately available to the brain’s decision-making process to (1) act upon and (2) store for future reference.  Ultimately, it meant scents can trigger emotional and autobiographical memories immediately and vividly, often before an individual identifies or describes the smell.  Many smell associations are formed in early childhood, a critical period for emotional and sensory development and the memory links remain strong because they were encoded so early in life and it’s believed much of this strength comes from smell being fully-formed long before language, meaning there early recollections remain eternally raw and unfiltered. 

Pavlova

Pavlova (pronounced pav-luh-vuh, pahv-loh-vuh, pav-luh-vuh or pah-vluh-vuh (Russian)).

A meringue cake, topped typically with whipped cream and fruit or confections.

Circa 1930: Named after Russian ballet ballerina Anna (pronounced ah-nuh) Pavlova (1885-1931).  Pavlova is a transliteration of the Russian surname Па́влова (Pávlova), the feminine variant of Па́влов (Pávlov).  Pavlova is a noun and Pavlovian is an adjective; the noun plural is pavlovas.  The standard short form (of the cake) is "pav" and if used as a proper noun, there's an initial capital.

Julia from Pampered Menial (1975) by Pavlov’s Dog.

Although coined at much the same time, the adjective Pavlovian is unrelated to the Russian ballerina or meringue cakes.  It refers to the theories & experimental work of Russian physiologist Ivan Petrovich Pavlov (Ива́н Петро́вич Па́влов; 1849-1936), especially in connection with the conditioned salivary reflexes of dogs in response to the mental stimulus of the sound of a bell (in the West, his work was in 1911 originally referred to as the “Pavloff method” because of a misunderstanding by editors).  His work was a landmark in experimental behavioralism, inducing a dog associatively to link a biologically potent stimulus (food) with a previously neutral stimulus (a bell).  The phrase “Pavlov’s dog” entered English to describe a conditioned response (reacting to a situation on the basis of taught behavior rather than reflectively).  One interesting aspect of comrade Pavlov’s career is he made no secret of his opposition to many aspects of communism in the Soviet state built by comrade Stalin (1878–1953; leader of the USSR 1922-1953), on occasions making his views plain even to the general secretary himself.  Despite that, no action appears ever to have been taken against him and after he died (at 86 of natural causes), he was granted a grand funeral.

Anna Pavlova with Jack.

Anna Pavlova was famous for her interpretation of The Dying Swan, a solo dance choreographed by Mikhail Fokine (1880-1942) to Camille Saint-Saëns's (1835-1921) Le Cygne (The Swan) from Le Carnaval des animaux (The Carnival of the Animals (1922)), commissioned as a pièce d'occasion (an artistic work produced for a special event) for the ballerina who performed it on some 4000 occasions.  It's a short, intense piece which follows the last moments of a swan and for years Ms Pavlova kept a pet swan called Jack.  That she lent her name to a light, meringue-based dessert with a crisp crust and soft, marshmallowy centre was a consequence of the impression she made on tours of Australia & New Zealand during the 1920s.  Such was her elegance, lightness, and grace on stage, the meringue’s airy texture was seen as the culinary expression of her ethereal dancing style, chefs seeking to create something which was at once a thing of swirling style yet also ephemerally fragile.

Rendered by Vovsoft as cartoon character: Lindsay Lohan with a pavolva she'd just whipped up.

New Zealand is a small country in the remote South Pacific which has over the years produced some notable figures such as (1) Lord Rutherford (1871–1937) who, although a physicist who regarded other branches of science as mere applications of engineering which worked within the laws of physics, was awarded the 1908 Nobel Prize in chemistry and is most remembered for his work which led to the atom being split in 1932, (2) Sir Edmund Hillary (1919–2008) who, with the Sherpa mountaineer Tenzing Norgay (1914–1986), was the first to ascend Mount Everest and (3) Sir David Low (1891–1963) who was among the most noted and prolific political cartoonists between the troubled 1930s and the early Cold War years.  The country has also for more than a century fielded what has been usually the world’s most successful rugby union side (the recent inconsistency of the All Blacks not withstanding) and memories are long, the try disallowed by a Scottish referee in a 1905 test against Wales at Cardiff Arms Park (Wales 3, All Blacks 0) still a sore point.

Mango, passion fruit & limoncello pavlova.

Less bitter but no less contested than the matter of the disallowed try is the origin of the pavlova, the invention of which is claimed by both Australia and New Zealand.  What all agree is the cake is a mixture of egg whites and sugar, topped usually with cream and fresh fruit, named after the Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova who toured both countries during the 1920s.  Researchers on both sides of the Tasman Sea (referred to by locals as “the ditch”) have long trawled cook books and newspapers to find the earliest entry but according to the Oxford English Dictionary (OED), New Zealand appears to hold the evidential advantage, a recipe from there having been verified as published in 1927 while the oldest claimed entry from Australia dates from 1935.  That however resolves only the use of Ms Pavlova’s name as the description, pastry chefs adding cream to meringue known even in the nineteenth century and the 1927 recipe in the book Davis Dainty Dishes, published by the Davis Gelatine company, was a multi-colored jelly concoction.  New Zealand’s historians of food concede the culinary point but cite recipes from 1928 & 1929 which are definitely of meringue, cream and fruit.  Strangely perhaps, the OED remained on the lexicographical fence, listing the origin as an ambiguous "Austral. and N.Z."

Espresso martini pavlova

Preparation: 1 hour

Cooking: 2 hours:

Serves: 10-12

Ingredients

8 egg whites
Pinch of cream of tartar
1 tablespoon ground coffee powder
430 gm (2 cups) caster sugar
2 tablespoons of corn-flour
1 teaspoon white vinegar
600 ml (l carton) thickened cream
125 ml (½ cup) coffee liqueur
2 teaspoons cocoa powder
Chocolate-coated coffee beans (to decorate)
Dark chocolate curls (to decorate)
Coffee vodka syrup
2 tablespoons vodka
2 teaspoons arrowroot
100 grams (½ cup, firmly packed) brown sugar
125 ml (½ cup) prepared espresso coffee

Instructions

(1) Preheat oven to 120^o C (100^o C fan forced) (250^o F (210^o F fan forced).  Draw a 200 mm (8 inch) circle on 2 sheets of baking paper.  Place each sheet, marked side down, on a baking tray.

(2) Use an electric beater with a whisk attachment to whisk the egg whites and cream of tartar in a clean dry bowl until firm peaks form.  Gradually whisk in the coffee powder.  Add the sugar, 1 tablespoon at a time, whisking constantly until the sugar dissolves and the mixture is thick and glossy.  Beat in the corn-flour and vinegar.

(3) Divide meringue mixture among the 2 marked circles on the prepared trays. Use a palette knife to spread mixture into 2 evenly shaped discs.  Bake for 2 hours or until meringues are dry and crisp.  Turn off oven. Leave meringues in the oven, with the door slightly ajar, until cooled completely.

(4) Meanwhile, to make the coffee vodka syrup, combine the vodka and arrowroot in a small bowl.  Combine the sugar and coffee in a small saucepan.  Bring to the boil over high heat, stirring, until the sugar dissolves. Reduce heat and simmer for 3 minutes or until the syrup has thickened slightly.  Stir in the vodka mixture and return to the boil, boiling for 1 minute or until thickened.  Remove from heat and transfer to a small bowl and set aside to cool.  Place in the fridge until required.

(5) Use electric beaters to beat the cream in a bowl until soft peaks form. Beat in the coffee liqueur and cocoa until firm peaks form.

(6) Place 1 pavlova disc on a serving plate. Top with half the cream mixture. Drizzle with a little coffee vodka syrup. Scatter with coffee beans and chocolate curls.  Repeat with the remaining disc, cream mixture, syrup, coffee beans and chocolate curls.  Serve.

A century-odd on, an issue still: Auckland Airport, New Zealand, December 2023.

Ranga

Ranga (pronounced rang-ah)

In Australian slang, a person with red (ginger, auburn etc) hair.

1990s: Based on the name orangutan (pronounced aw-rang-oo-tan, oh-rang-oo-tan or uh-rang-oo-tan), any of three endangered species of long-armed, arboreal anthropoid great ape, the only extant members of the subfamily Ponginae, inhabiting Borneo (Pongo pygmaeus) and Sumatra (P. abelii).  The three species are Bornean orangutan (Pongo pygmaeus), Sumatran orangutan (Pongo abelii) and Tapanuli orangutan (Pongo tapanuliensis).  Ranga is a noun; the noun plural is rangas.  Australians tend to be linguistic reductionists and one is deemed either a ranga or not but presumably there can be "gray areas" (there may, in this context, be a better way of putting that) so adjectives such as rangaish or rangaesque could be coined as required.

A ketchup of gingers?  Roodharigendag in the Netherlands.

Since 2005 (except in 2020 when the COVID-19 pandemic put a stop to the fun), the Netherlands has hosted what is described as the "world's largest gathering of redheads".  Were the three-day festival (which attracts participants from over eighty nations) staged in certain other countries it might have gained a playful, fanciful name but the practical Dutch unadventurously used Roodharigendag (Redhead Day) which does have the virtue of being unambiguous.  There are a variety of events including lectures and pub-crawls; presumably, coffee shops are visited and perhaps the proprietors offer special blends of red-themed weed for the event.  If not, presumably "Fanta Orange" (€13 per gram in mid 2024) sales spike.

An Orangutan in the Sumatran jungle.  International Orangutan Day is 19 August.

Despite the first element of orangutan (orang) appearing to be a clipping of “orange” (a reasonable assumption given the creature’s vaguely orange-hued coat although zoologists describe it usually as “reddish-brown”), the term has nothing to do with coloration and is not derived from English sources.  Orangutan describes any of the three species of arboreal anthropoid ape, which comprise the genus Pongo, native to Borneo and Sumatra and as late as 1996 were listed as a single species in the taxonomic, based on the first scientific classification (as Homo Sylvestris) in 1758 by Swedish zoologist & physician Carl Linnaeus (1707–1778 and styled as Carl von Linné after 1761).  After being divided in 1996, the third species definitively was identified in 2017.  Even in English there are a dozen-odd alternative spellings and unmodified and variant forms appear in many languages.  The construct of orang-utan was from the Malay: orang (person, man) + hutan (forest) thus literally “forest man”.

Because, of the origin, to call someone a ranga is to compare them to a sub-human primate, so it might have been thought offensive but it remains widely used and is one of the additions to English which has spread from Australia.  Possibly the fact the world's redheads are almost exclusively white meant the comparisons with the orangutan weren't historically or culturally "loaded" so it never became more than a minor micro-aggression.  It certainly can be offensive and is often (though apparently mostly by children) used that way but it can also be a neutral descriptor or a form of self-identification by the red-headed.  It may be that many of those who deploy ranga (for whatever purpose) are unaware of the connection with sub-human primate and treat it as just another word; in that sense it’s actually less explicit than some of the many alternatives with a longer linguistic lineage including "ginger minge", "fire crotch", "carrot top", Fanta (not always capitalized) pants", "rusty crotch" and "blood nuts".  Whether ranga is more or less offensive than any of those (none of which reference apes) is something on which not all redheads may agree but in 2017 (some months on from ranga being added to the Australian Macquarie Dictionary), presumably so there was a forum to discuss such matters, RANGA (the Red And Nearly Ginger Association) was formed, finding its natural home on social media where it operates to provide social support rather than being a pressure group.  

There was also the Australian moniker “blue” (and, being Australia, the inevitable “bluey”) to describe redheads and most dictionaries of slang suggest the origin was in the tradition of “lofty” or “stretch” sometimes being applied to the notably short (ie the stark contrast between “red” and “blue”).  There is the suggestion it may have been an allusion to the propensity of “hot-headed” redheads to “start a blue” (ie start a fight, that use another of the nation’s many re-purposings of the word) but there’s no documentary evidence.  However, there is an established connection between “orange” & “blue”, a number of orange-flavored liqueurs dyed blue, Blue Curaçao the best-known.  According to historians of the industry, the blue dye came to be used just for the visual novelty, blue uncommon in natural foods or drinks and the striking colour was a point of differentiation with the many other orange-colored beverages.  Curaçao liqueur originated on the Caribbean island of Curaçao and was made using the dried peel of the laraha (a bitter orange).  Originally distilled as a clear or amber fluid, various vivid artificial colors (blue, green, orange, red) were added just to create different brands and Blue Curaçao became the most popular becoming almost synonymous with the striking blue cocktails (Blue Lagoon, Blue Hawaiian etc) in which it is an ingredient.  Because the blue dye (typically Brilliant Blue FCF, aka E133) has no taste, the orange flavour remains unaffected.

Ginger, copper, auburn & chestnut are variations on the theme of red-headedness: Lindsay Lohan demonstrates the possibilities.  Red hair is the result of a mutation in the melanocortin 1 receptor (MC1R) gene responsible for producing the MC1R protein which plays a crucial role also in determining skin-tone. When the MC1R gene is functioning normally, it helps produce eumelanin, a type of melanin that gives hair a dark color.  However, a certain mutation in the MC1R gene leads to the production of pheomelanin which results in red hair.  Individuals with two copies of the mutated MC1R gene (one from each parent) typically have red hair, fair skin, and a higher sensitivity to ultraviolet (UV) light, a genetic variation found most often in those of northern & western European descent.

Just as blonde women have long been objectified and derided as of limited intelligence (ie the "dumb" blonde), redheads have been stereotyped as sexually promiscuous (women) or having fiery tempers (men & women) but there is no evidence supporting any relationship between hair color, personality type or temperament.  The sample sizes are inherently small (redheads less than 2% of the global population) but there are populations in which the predominance is higher, so further research would be interesting but such questions are of course now unfashionable.  Most style guides list "red-haired”, “redhead” & “redheaded” as acceptable descriptors but the modern practice is wherever possible to avoid references which apply to physical characteristics, much as the suggestion now is not to invoke any term related to race or ethnic origin.  That way nothing can go wrong.  If it’s a purely technical matter, such as hair products, then descriptors are unavoidable (part-numbers not as helpful at the retail level) and there’s quite an array, ranging from light ginger at the lighter end to chestnuts and and auburns at the darker and there was a time when auburn was used as something of a class-identifier.

Jessica Gagen, Miss England, 2022.

Winner of Miss England 2022 (the first redhead to claim the crown (which really was a crown rather than the tiara some contests award)), Miss World Europe 2023 & Miss United Kingdom 2024, Jessica Gagen (b 1996) holds a bachelor's degree in aerospace engineering from the University of Liverpool, and is an advocate for women and girls in STEM (science, technology, engineering & math).  Having been subject to "rangaphobia" bullying as a child, Ms Gagen used her platform to spread a positive message to those who have also suffered cruel taunts about being red-headed.  After leaving school, Ms Gagen discovered one advantage her locks afforded was they attracted modeling agencies and, as a multi-tasker, she pursued a lucrative international career in conjunction with her studies.  Her interest in encouraging women to enter STEM fields came while at university when the paucity of female participation in her engineering course was obvious in male-dominated lecture theatres and tutorial rooms.

Peak Jessica: Jessica Gagen pictured cooling off during one of England's increasingly frequent heat-waves when temperatures reached a record 42^o C (108^o F), something long thought impossible because of the interplay of the movement of water and sea currents around the British Isles.  It's an urban myth redheads (being "hot-headed" in the popular imagination) need more than most to "cool down" when the temperature is high. 

Interestingly, Ms Gagen says participation in beauty contests changed her perception of them as sexist displays, regarding that view as archaic, noting the women involved all seemed to have their own motives, usually involving raising awareness about something of personal interest.  Being part of the subset of humanity likely to do well in beauty contests (a matter of concern among some critical theorists) is of course just a form of comparative advantage in the way some benefit from  a genetic mix which makes them ideal basketball players.  The beauty contest is thus an economic opportunity and choosing to participate in one can be a rational choice in that one's allocation of time and resources can yield greater returns than the alternatives.  Another notable thing about Jessica Gagen is that being born in 1996, she is part of that sub-set of the population called “peak Jessica”, the cohort which reflected the extraordinary popularity of the name between 1981-1997, overlapping slightly with “peak Jennifer” which occurred between 1970-1984.