Ficelle

Ficelle (pronounced fis-elle or fis-elle-ah (French))

(1) A variant of baguette (a type of French bread), similar in composition and appearance except much thinner.

(2) String or twine (in French), used literally & figuratively.

(3) In literary theory, a confidant (a confidante if a female), whose role within the text is to elicit information, conveyed to the reader without narratorial intervention

1880s: From the French ficelle (string; twine), from the Old French ficel, & ficelle (small cord; thread), probably from the Vulgar Latin filicella, from fibrilla, a diminutive form of fibra (fiber; filament) from fīlum (thread).  The French phrase ficelles du metier (tricks of the trade) appears of the in the form apprendre les ficelles du metier which translates best as “to learn the ropes”.  The French verb ficeler translates as “to tie up, to truss”.  In French, as well as the literal meanings (of string and certain breads), ficelle also has figurative uses.  It can be used to refer to a subtle trick or stratagem but it’s most popular as an allusion to “string pulling”, suggesting “behind the scenes” manipulation or “back channel” deals.  In English, it evolved to enjoy two niches: (1) in literary theory and (2) in culinary and artisanal bakery use.  Ficelle is a noun & verb; the noun plural is ficelles.

In literary theory, a ficelle is the confidant character whose role within the text is to elicit information, conveyed to the reader without narratorial intervention.  The term was introduced by the author Henry James (1843–1916) who used the word in the sense it appeared in French théâtre de marionnettes (marionette theatre) to refer to the strings with which the puppeteer manipulated their puppets.  What James wanted was a word to inhabit the literary grey area between the confidant and the narrator, his idea being the character in a novel who is presented as the friend of another but whose purpose as a literary device was to be the “friend of the reader”, imparting vital information without the disruptive intervention of a narrator.

Cady Heron (Lindsay Lohan (b 1986)) & Karen Smith (Amanda Seyfried (b 1985)) in Mean Girls (2004),  Cady Heron was an unusual ficelle in that as the protagonist, she was also a confidante and narrator.

The society masseuse Mrs Heaney in the tragi-comedy of manners The Custom of the Country (1913) by US novelist & interior decorator Edith Wharton (1862–1937) was a ficelle.  Acting as a kind of mentor and even a surrogate mother to Ms Spragg, she uses her keen (but remote) observation of New York’s high society to live a kind of vicarious existence in those circles through the young protagonist, but Wharton’s literary purpose was to use her to flesh out the text with facts helpful to the reader’s understanding.  The classic ficelle however was James's own Maisie Farange in What Maisie Knew (1897) the naive but preternaturally wise child in whom the warring parents, step-parents and lovers casually confide, and through whose eyes the story is told.  There can be overlap in the literary roles of confidant, narrator and ficelle (Lindsay Lohan’s Cady Heron in Mean Girls (2004) has elements of all three) but according to literary theory (1) a ficelle usually is a confidant but must not be a narrator, (2) a confidant can be a narrator if not a ficelle.  In the literary tradition Cady Heron was an untypical protagonist in that most confidants have only a marginal role in the plot, their main function to listen to the intimate feelings and intentions of the protagonist; someone like Horatio in William Shakespeare’s (1564–1616) Hamlet (circa 1600) or the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s (1859–1930) Dr Watson who was the “sounding board” for Sherlock Holmes.

They heard, and were abash'd, and up they sprung (Book 1, line 331).  Illustration by French printmaker & illustrator Gustave Doré (1832–1883) from an 1866 edition of John Milton's (1608-1674) Paradise Lost (1667) edited by US journalist & historian Henry Walsh (1863–1927).

The narrator has a longer tradition and was one of the features of Greek theatre and both Plato (circa 427-348 BC) and Aristotle (384-322 BC) defined three types: (1) the speaker or poet (or any kind of writer) who uses his own voice, (2) one who assumes the voice of another person or persons, speaking in a voice not his own and (3) one who uses a mixture of his own voice and that of others.  In both drama and fiction there are countless examples of each technique but authors could combine the modes, all three appearing in John Milton’s Paradise Lost: Milton begins in his own voice in the first person to invoke the “Heavenly Muse” but later the impression is created that the Muse (ie the Holy Ghost or Holy Spirit) responds to Milton's formal invocation, thus beginning the main narrative.  When first Satan speaks, the third voice is introduced and it’s not until Book III Milton returns to his “own voice” although of course, as the author, all is Milton’s own.  TS Eliot (1888–1965) in his essay The Three Voices of Poetry (1954) interpreted the notion as it could be mapped onto modern verse: “The first voice is the voice of the poet talking to himself - or to nobody.  The second is the voice of the poet addressing an audience, whether large or small.  The third is the voice of the poet when he attempts to create a dramatic character speaking in verse when he is saying not what he would say in his own person, but only what he can say within the limits of one imaginary character addressing another imaginary character.”

La baguette et la ficelle. A ficelle (bottom) is more slender than a baguette (top) although in many parts of the English-speaking world the term "French stick" is used generically.  Some of what's sold as "French sticks" must appal French bakers.

Charles de Gaulle (1890-1970; President of France 1959-1969) in 1962 famously observed of his nation: “How can you govern a country which has two hundred and forty-six varieties of cheese?” and he’d probably be amused to learn that by 2024 some 1,600 distinct types had been identified.  There aren’t quite than many types of baguette but there are still a few including the “artisan baguette”, “moulded baguette”, “floured baguette”, “chocolate baguette”, “multicereal baguette”, “whole wheat baguette, “baguette a l’ancienne” (old-fashioned), “Viennoise baguette”, “Sourdough baguette”, “Baguette de Seigle”, “Baguette en épis” (corn baguette) and the “ficelle”.  The difference between the classic baguette of the popular imagination is essentially the size and shape.  A typical baguette is 610-710 mm (24-26 inches) in length with a slender, elongated shape, the crust crispy crust and the centre airy.  The ficelle is both narrower and shorter (usually around 300-400 mm (12-16 inches) long and renowned for its chewier texture and slightly thinner crust, characteristics which make it less versatile than a baguette but they are popular for making gourmet rolls or as an alternative to crackers when serving dips or spreads.  Something like the ficelle may genuinely have been the original form of the modern baguette but the name was adopted only late in the nineteenth century to distinguish them from the larger creations which had become popular; it was an allusion to a “piece of string”, the diminutive ficelle long and narrow by comparison with what had become the “standard” baguette.

Beware of imitations: The baguette de tradition française.

The origin of the baguette (as it's now understood) is truly a mystery and there are so many tales that it's recommended people choose to believe which ever most appeals to the.  In France, a true baguette (Baguette artisanale) is made from ingredients and with a method defined in law while the famous shape is a convention.  Typically, baguettes have a diameter between 50-75 mm (2-3 inches) and are some 610-710 mm (24-26 inches) in length although the 1 m (39 inch) baguette is not unusual, popular especially with the catering trade.  It’s a little misleading to suggest the baguette was invented because for centuries loaves in the shape existed in many places around the world and recipes for the mixing of dough were constantly subject to changes imposed by the success of harvests, economics, supply-chain disruptions and simple experimentation.  The baguette instead evolved and its popularity was a thing of natural selection; it survived because people preferred the taste, texture and convenience of form while other breads faded from use.  It seems clear that the long, stick-like direct ancestors of the baguette began to assume their recognizably modern form in French towns and cities in the eighteenth century although doubtless there was much variation between regions and probably even between bakers in the same place.  The daily bread being the classic market economy, bakers would be influenced by losing sales to a more popular shop and so would adjust their mixes or techniques to attract customers back.  In this way a standardized form would have emerged and, in the French way, by 1920 the assembly had passed a law codifying the critical parameters (weight, size and price), formalizing the popular name baguette.  In 2003, the jocular slang "freedom bread" emerged to describe the baguette, an allusion to the "Freedom Fries" which replaced "French Fries" in US government staff canteens while there was tension between the White House and the Élysée Palace over France's attitude to the proposed invasion of Iraq.   

Lindsay Lohan in promotion for @lilybakerjewels, 2020.  The Rainbow Baguette Ring (centre) using stones cut in a true “baguette” rectangle whereas the Rainbow Bracelet used squares.

Globalization and modern techniques of mass production however intruded on many aspects of French lives and bakeries weren’t immune from the challenge of the cheap “baguette” sold by supermarkets.  Even among the boulangerie (a French bakery in which the bread must, by law, be baked on-premises) there were some who resorted to less demanding methods of production to compete.  As a matter of cultural protection, the assembly in 1993 enacted Le Décret Pain (The Bread Decree) which stipulates that to be described as pain maison (homemade bread), a bread needs to be wholly kneaded, shaped, and baked at the place of sale.  To limit the scope of the supermarkets (some of which were importing frozen, pre-prepared dough), rules also defined what pain traditionnel français (traditional French bread) may be made from and banning any pre-made components from baguettes.  Also retained was the relevant provision of the 1920 labor legislation which prohibits the employment of people in bread and pastry making between ten in the evening and four in the morning.  So, when visiting a boulangerie, it’s recommended to ask for a baguette de tradition française (usually as baguette de tradition) which is made from wheat flour, water, yeast, and common salt (reflecting modern practice, one may contain up to 0.5% soya flour, up to 2% broad bean flour and up to 0.3% wheat malt flour) and the dough must rest between 15-20 hours at a temperature between 4-6^o C (43-46^o F).  The less exalted baguettes ordinaires, are made with baker's yeast and a less exacting specification.

The French Ministère de la Culture’s (Ministry of Culture) L'inventaire national du Patrimoine culturel immatériel (National Inventory of Intangible Cultural Heritage) in 2018 added the baguette to its index and in 2022, the artisanal know-how and culture of the baguette was added to UNESCO’s (the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization) list of Intangible Cultural Heritage.  Already preserving the information about some 600 traditions from more than 130 countries, UNESCO noted the addition by saying it celebrated the French way of life, something of which the baguette, as a central part of the French diet for at least 100 years, was emblematic.  With some 16 million consumed in France every day, the “…the baguette is a daily ritual, a structuring element of the meal, synonymous with sharing and conviviality", a statement from UNESCO read, concluding it was “…important that these skills and social habits continue to exist in the future."

Insipid & Sapid

Insipid (pronounced in-sip-id)

(1) Without distinctive, interesting, or stimulating qualities; vapid.

(2) Something or someone dull or uninteresting; lacking character or definition.

(3) Food or drink lacking sufficient taste to be pleasing; bland, unappetizingly flavorless.

1610–1620: From the sixteenth century French insipid (without taste or perceptible flavor), from the Late Latin insipidus (tasteless), the construct being in- (in the sense of negation) + -sipidus (savory; tasty), a form of sapidus (sapid) from sapere (have a taste (and used also to mean “be wise”)).  The figurative (ie not of food or drink) meaning (uninteresting, dull) emerged in English in the 1640s and it’s believed this was under the influence of Medieval Latin or the Romance languages, where it was a secondary sense.  The noun insipidity was in use by the early seventeenth century.  The choice of synonym can depend on whether what is being described is food & drink or something (or someone) else and the options include banal, bland, ho-hum, innocuous, trite, vapid, tasteless, bland, wearish, boring, vacuous, dull, bland, characterless & colourless.  In English, in some senses the use has been influenced by insipient (unwise, foolish, stupid; lacking wisdom).  Insipient was from the Middle English insipient & incipient, from the Old French insipient, ultimately from the Latin īnsipiēns.  For the fastidious, the comparative is “more insipient”, the superlative “most insipient”).  Insipid is an adjective, insipidity & insipidness are nouns and insipidly is an adverb.

Sapid (pronounced sap-id)

(1) Having taste or flavor (and used specifically to mean “savory”).

(2) Agreeable to the taste; palatable.

(3) Agreeable, as to the mind; to one's liking.

1625-1635: From the Latin sapidus (tasty), from sapere or sapiō (to taste).  The original meaning in English was “having the power of affecting the organs of taste (when used of food & drink or other substances)” while the figurative sense suggested something “gratifying to the mind or its tastes”.  The adjective sipid has the same meaning as sapid and was a mid-nineteenth century back-formation from insipid (on the model of “gruntled” from “disgruntled”) whereas sapid was a direct borrowing from Latin.  Both sapid & sipid can be used to mean “having a taste or flavor; savoury” but unlike insipid which remains in wide use (both in the original context of food & drink and figuratively), neither have ever attained much currency and it’s not unreasonable for both to be listed as obsolete.  Sapid is an adjective, sapidity & sapidness are nouns.

The infamously insipid Koryo Burger, the in-flight delicacy offered by Air Koryo, national carrier of Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK; North Korea).

In a sense, what words flourish (or at least endure) in English is because of the operation of something of a popularity contest.  While there are style guides, text books and grammar Nazis to tell us which words to use and in what manner, English has no body such as the French government’s Académie Française (council for matters pertaining to the French language) which publishes the a variety of documents which may be said collectively to define what is “official French”.  The Académie had an interesting political history, beginning as a private venture it received the imprimatur of both church & state when in 1635 it was granted a royal charter by Cardinal Richelieu (1585-1642; chief minister (chancellor or prime-minister) to the King of France 1624-1642) during the reign of Louis XIII (1601–1643; King of France 1610-1643) but was dissolved 1793 during the French Revolution (1789), partly because of the mob’s anti-royalist feelings but also because there was some resentment among the peasantry (an in the provinces generally) to the notion of a Parisian elite deciding whose dialect was “right” and whose was “wrong”.  That’s exactly the same dispute which now bubbles in US universities between (1) those who insist there is “correct” standard English while other forms are dialectal variations (ethnic, regional, class etc) and (2) those who argue for a cultural equivalency between all forms, most notably AAVE (African-American Vernacular English) and its many forks.  In 1795 the new regime in France created the Institut de France (Institute of France) as a kind of clearing house for all matters relating to what was “acceptable” French culture, absorbing some pre-existing scientific, literary and artistic bodies and it was to the institute that Napoleon Bonaparte (1769–1821; leader of the French Republic 1799-1804 & Emperor of the French from 1804-1814 & 1815) in 1803 restored the Académie Française as a division.

Portrait of Goethe, oil on paper by Italian artist Elia Bonetti (b 1983).

Spain’s Real Academia Española (Royal Academy of Spain) is a similar body but perhaps surprisingly (given all the stereotypes of the Prussians) there is in Germany no central authority defining the German language, several organizations and institutions working (cooperatively and not) together standardize and update things.  The most authoritative body for German orthography is the Rat für deutsche Rechtschreibung (Council for German Orthography), the membership of which includes representatives from other German-speaking countries (Austria, Switzerland et al) and its mandate extends to overseeing spelling and orthographic rules, something not without controversy, especially since the great spelling “reform” of 1996.  In the spirit of the post-1945 spirit of avoiding where possible the creation of all-powerful single institutions, it’s the Duden dictionary and Institut für Deutsche Sprache (Institute for the German Language) which exert great influence in in maintaining and documenting German vocabulary, grammar and usage, but both tend to be observational, recording changes in the language rather than seeking to enforce rules (ie they are descriptive rather than prescriptive).  German thus evolves through the combined influence of these institutions, public usage, and scholarly input, rather than through a single authoritative academy and internationally it’s probably the Goethe-Institut (Goethe Institute, named after the German author & philosopher Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832)) which most promotes the study of German language & culture through its worldwide network of some 160 centres.

English is more democratic still, the survival of words and grammatical forms dependent on the users and even before the British Empire saw the tongue spread around the world the foreign influences were profound, the Latin, Greek, French & Germanic threads the most obvious and even to speak of the “Old English” is misleading to all but those in the field because to most, the “Old English” really isn’t recognizable as “English”.  Not only does modern English thus evolve but so do the other blends such as “Spanglish” (a hybrid of Spanish & English), Hinglish (Hindi & English) and its absurd to speak of “pure English”, even the way BBC announcers used to speak (in the so-called “RP” (received pronunciation) often including fragments picked up from the Raj and around the world.  While the Académie Française may try to keep French as pure as possible, English shamelessly is linguistically slutty.

Lindsay Lohan (with body-double) during filming of Irish Wish (Netflix, 2024) which the Daily Beast concluded wasn't exactly “insipid”.  The car is a Triumph TR4 (1961-1967), one of the early versions with a live rear axle, a detail probably of no significance in the plot-line.

In this democratic way, insipid has endured because it fills a niche that sapid & sipid never found, in both usage & meaning.  Vividly, insipid conveys the notion of something lacking flavor, excitement, or interest, whether literally (vapid food or drink) or figuratively (dull conversation or ideas).  This negative association has a broad and (regrettably) frequent application in everyday language, there so often being a need to decry things or people as uninteresting or failing to make an impact.  By contrast, although sapid & sipid both mean “food having flavour”, there’s less need because that’s expected and what’s usually sought is a way to say the quality is lacking and terms of emphasis came to be preferred: “flavoursome” “tasty” and such taking over although none were as precise as the practical & versatile “insipid” which proved the perfect one-word descriptor whether literally or figuratively.  Insipid is useful too because it’s nuanced in that it although used usually as negative, it’s also a “neutral word” in the sense of “bland”.  When the Daily Beast was searching for similes & metaphors in their review of Irish Wish (released in 2024 as the second edition of Lindsay Lohan’s three film Netflix deal), they opted also to “damn with faint praise” observing because the Netflix’s target audience “merely want to watch something that isn’t insipid and horribly made”, maybe the film (sort of) succeeded.  So insipid has survived because it fulfils needs while sapid & sipid are now little more than linguistic curiosities.

Insipid, sipid & sapid: The votes are in.

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.

Ekpyrosis

Ekpyrosis (pronounced eck-pyh-row-sys)

(1) In modern cosmology, a speculative theory proposing the known universe originated in the collision of two other three-dimensional universes traveling in a hidden fourth dimension. This scenario does not require a singularity at the moment of the Big Bang.

(2) In the philosophy of the Stoic school in Antiquity, the idea that all existence is cyclical in nature and universe is the result of a recurring conflagration in which the all is destroyed and reborn in the same process.  Among the Stoics,

1590s (in English): From the Ancient Greek ἐκπύρωσις (ekpúrōsis) (conflagration, cyclically recurring conflagration in which the universe is destroyed and reborn according to some factions in Stoic philosophy), the construct being the Ancient Greek ἐκ (ek) (out of; from) + πύρωσις (pyrōsis), from πῦρ (pyr) (fire) + -ōsis (the suffix).  While there’s no direct relationship between the modern “big bang theory” and the Stoic’s notion of periodic cosmic conflagration (the idea the universe is periodically destroyed by fire and then recreated), the conceptual similarity is obvious.  The Stoic philosophy reflected the general Greek (and indeed Roman) view of fire representing both destruction and renewal.  In English, ekpyrosis first appeared in the late sixteenth century translations or descriptions of ancient Stoic philosophy, particularly in relation to their cosmological theories and it came to be used either as the Stoics applied it or in some analogous way.  It was one of a number of words which during the Renaissance came to the attention of scholars in the West, a period which saw a revival of interest in ancient Greek and Roman thought, art & architecture and for centuries many of the somewhat idealized descriptions and visions of the epoch were those constructed (sometimes rather imaginatively) during the Renaissance.  The alternative spelling was ecpyrosis.  Ekpyrosis is a noun and ekpyrotic is an adjective; the noun plural is ekpyroses.

In stoic philosophy, ekpyrosis was described sometimes as a recurring, unitary process (the periodic destruction & rebirth of the universe in a single conflagration) and sometimes and the final stage of one existence (destruction) which was the source of a palingenesis (the subsequent rebirth).  Palingenesis was almost certainly a variant of palingenesia (rebirth; regeneration) with the appending of the suffix -genesis (used to suggest “origin; production”).  Palingenesia was a learned borrowing from the Late Latin palingenesia (rebirth; regeneration), from the Koine Greek παλιγγενεσία (palingenesía) (rebirth), the construct being the Ancient Greek πᾰ́λῐν (pálin) (again, anew, once more), ultimately from the primitive Indo-European kwel (to turn (end-over-end); to revolve around; to dwell; a sojourn)) + γένεσις (genesis) (creation; manner of birth; origin, source).  The construct of the suffix was from the primitive Indo-European ǵenh- (to beget; to give birth; to produce”) + -ῐ́ᾱ (-íā) (the suffix used to form feminine abstract nouns).

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

In biology, the word was in the nineteenth century was adopted to describe “an apparent repetition, during the development of a single embryo, of changes that occurred previously in the evolution of its species) came directly from the German Palingenesis (the first papers published in Berlin).  In geology & vulcanology, it was used to mean “regeneration of magma by the melting of metamorphic rocks”) and came from the Swedish palingenes (which, like the German, came from the Greek).  In the study of history, palingenesis could be used to describe (often rather loosely) the recurrence of historical events in the same order, the implication being that was the natural pattern of history which would emerge if assessed over a sufficiently long time.  When such things used to be part of respectable philosophy, it was used to mean “a spiritual rebirth through the transmigration of the soul”, a notion which exists in some theological traditions and it has an inevitable attraction for the new-age set.

The Death of Seneca (1773), oil on canvas by Jacques-Louis David (1748–1825), Petit Palais, Musée Des Beaux-Arts, De La Ville De Paris, France.  Lucius Annaeus Seneca (Seneca the Younger, (circa 4 BC–65 AD)) was one of the best known of the Roman Stoics and the painting is a classic example of the modern understanding of stoicism, Seneca calmly accepting being compelled to commit suicide, condenmed after being implicated in a conspiracy to assassinate the Nero (37-68; Roman emperor  54-68).  The consensus among historians is seems to be Seneca was likely “aware of but not involved in” the plot.  There are many paintings depicting the death of Seneca, most showing him affecting the same air of “resigned acceptance” to his fate.

The Stoics were a group of philosophers whose school of thought was for centuries among the most influential in Antiquity.  Although the word “stoic” is now most often used to refer to someone indifferent to pleasure or pain and who is able gracefully to handle the vicissitudes of life, that’s as misleading as suggesting the Ancient Epicureans were interested only in feasting.  What Stoicism emphasized was living a virtuous life, humans like any part of the universe created and governed by Logos and thus it was essential to at all times remain in harmony with the universe.  Interestingly, although the notion of ekpyrosis was one of the distinctive tenants of the school, there was a Stoic faction which thought devoting much energy to such thoughts was something of a waste of energy and that they should devote themselves to the best way to live, harmony with logos the key to avoiding suffering.  Their ideas live on in notions like “virtue is its own reward” and ultimately more rewarding than indulgence or worldly goods which are mere transitory vanities.

While the speculative theory of an ekpyrotic universe in modern cosmology and the ancient Stoic idea of ekpyrosis both revolve around a cyclical process of destruction and renewal, they differ significantly in detail and the phenomena they describe.  Most significantly, in modern cosmology there’s no conception of this having an underlying motivation, something of great matter in Antiquity.  The modern theory is an alternative to what is now the orthodoxy of the Big Bang theory; it contends the universe did not with a “big bang” (originally a term of derision but later adopted by all) begin from a singular point of infinite density in but rather emerged from the collision of two large, parallel branes (membranes) in higher-dimensional space.  In the mysterious brane cosmology, the universe is imagined as a three- dimensional “brane” within a higher-dimensional space (which tends to be called the “bulk”).  It’s the great, cataclysmic collision of two branes which triggers each defining event in the endless cycle of cosmic evolution.  In common with the Stoics, the process is described as cyclical and after each collusion, the universe undergoes a long period of contraction, followed by another collision that causes a new expansion.  Thus, elements are shared with the “Big Bang” & “Big Crunch” cycles but the critical variations are (1) there’s no conception of a singularity (2) although this isn’t entirely clear according to some, time never actually has to “begin” which critics have called a bit of a “fudge” because it avoids the implications of physical laws breaking down (inherent in the Big Bang’s singularity) and assumes cosmic events occur smoothly (in the sense of physics rather than violence) during brane collisions.

Bust of Marcus Aurelius (121–180; Roman emperor 161-180), Musée Saint-Raymond, Toulouse, France.

Something in the vein of the “philosopher kings” many imagine they’d like to live under (until finding the actual experience less pleasant than they’d hoped), Marcus Aurelius was a Stoic philosopher who has always been admired for his admirable brevity of expression, the stoic world-view encapsulated in his phases such as “Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be.  Be one.”, “The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.” and “Our life is what our thoughts make it.”  Marcus Aurelius was the last emperor of Pax Romana (Roman peace, 27 BC-180 AD), a golden age of Roman imperial power and prosperity.  

To the Stoics of Antiquity, ekpyrosis described the periodic destruction of the universe by a great cosmic fire, followed by its rebirth, fire in the Classical epoch a common symbol both of destruction and creation; the Stoic universe was a deterministic place.  In the metaphysics of the ancients, the notion of fire and the central event was not unreasonable because people for millennia had been watching conflagrations which seemed so destructive yet after which life emerged, endured and flourished and the idea was the same conflagration which wrote finis to all was the same primordial fire from which all that was new would be born.  More to the point however, it would be re-born, the Stoics idea always that the universe would re-emerge exactly as it had been before.  The notion of eternal recurrence doesn’t actually depend on the new being the same as the old but clearly, the Greeks liked things the way they were and didn’t want anything to change.  That too was deterministic because it was Logos which didn’t want anything to change.  The Stoics knew all that had been, all this is and all that would be were all governed by Logos (rational principle or divine reason) and it was this which ensured the balance, order and harmony of the universe, destruction and re-birth just parts of that.  Logos had motivation and that was to maintain the rational, natural order but in modern cosmology there’s no motivation in the laws of physics, stuff just happens by virtue of their operation.

Melodrama

Melodrama (pronounced mel-uh-drah-muh or mel-uh-dram-uh)

(1) A dramatic form (used in theatre, literature, music etc) that does not observe the laws of cause and effect and that exaggerates emotion and emphasizes plot or action at the expense of characterization.

(2) Loosely, (sometimes very loosely), behavior or events thought “melodramatic” (overly dramatic displays of emotion or behavior and applied especially to situations in which “things are blown out of proportion”).

(3) In formal definition (seventeenth, eighteenth & nineteenth centuries), a romantic dramatic composition characterized by sensational incident with music interspersed.

(4) A poem or part of a play or opera spoken to a musical accompaniment (technically, a passage in which the orchestra plays a somewhat descriptive accompaniment, while the actor speaks).

(5) A popular nickname conferred on highly-strung young women with a Mel*.* given name (Melanie, Melissa, Melina, Melinda, Melisandre, Melodie, Melody et al).

1784 (used in 1782 as melodrame): From the French mélodrame (a dramatic composition in which music is used), the construct being mélo- , from the Ancient Greek μέλος (mélos) (limb, member; musical phrase, tune, melody, song) + drame (refashioned by analogy with the Ancient Greek δρᾶμα (drâma) (deed, theatrical act) and cognate to the German Melodram, the Italian melodramma and the Spanish melodrama.  The adjective melodramatic (pertaining to, suitable for, or characteristic of a melodrama) came into use in 1789 (unrelated to political events that year).  Melodrama, melodramaticism, melodramaturgy, melodramatics & melodramatist are nouns, melodramatize, melodramatizing & melodramatized are verbs, melodramatic is an adjective and melodramatically is an adverb; the noun plural is melodramas or melodramata.

As late as the mid-nineteenth century “melodrama” was still used of stage-plays (usually romantic & sentimental) in which songs were interspersed, the action accompanied by orchestral music appropriate to the situations.  By the 1880s, the shift towards a melodrama being understood as “a romantic and sensational dramatic piece with a happy ending” and this proved influential, the musical element ceasing gradually to be an essential feature, the addition of recorded sound to “moving pictures” (movies) the final nail in the coffin.  Since then, a “melodrama” is understood to be “a dramatic piece characterized by sensational incidents and violent appeals to the emotions, but with (usually) a happy ending”.

The origins of melodrama lie in late sixteenth century Italian opera and reflect an attempt to convince audiences (or more correctly, composers and critics) that the form (ie opera or melodrama) was a revival of the Classical Greek tragedy.  It was a time in Europe when there was a great reverence for the cultures of Antiquity, something the result of the scholars and archivists (and frankly the publicists) of the Renaissance building a somewhat idealized construct of the epoch and the content providers noted the labels, the German-British Baroque composer Frederick Handel (1685–1759) using both for his works.  In the late eighteenth century French dramatists began to develop melodrama as a distinct genre by elaborating the dialogue and adding spectacle, action and violence to the plot-lines, a technique still familiar in the 2020s, sensationalism and extravagant emotionalism as effective click-bait now it was for ticket sales in earlier times.

The use of “melodrama” to refer to the life of a troubled popular culture figure represents a bit of a jump in meaning but it’s now well-understood.

The path of the musical form had earlier been laid in text, something becoming a more significant influence as the spread of the printing press made mass-market publications more accessible and they spread even within non-literate populations because as public and private readings became common forms of entertainment.  Although elements of what would later be understood as melodrama exist in the gloomy tragedies of the French novelist Claude Prosper Jolyot de Crébillon (1707–1777), more of an influence on the composers would be those who wrote with a lighter touch including the Swiss philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712–1778) whose Pygmalion (1775) and French theatre director and playwright René-Charles Guilbert de Pixerécourt (1773–1844) whose Le Pèlerin blanc ou les Enfants du hameau (The White Pilgrim (or The Children of the Village)) both came to be regarded as part of the inchoate framework of the genre.  Literary theorists still debate the matter of cause & effect between melodrama and the growing vogue of the Gothic novel, one of fiction’s more emotionally manipulative paths, many concluding the relationship between the two was symbiotic.

There was also the commercial imperative.  Literary historians have documented the simultaneous proliferation of melodramas produced for the English stage during the nineteenth century (notably adaptations of novels by popular authors such as Charles Dickens (1812–1870) and Sir Walter Scott (1771–1832)) and the paucity in original work of substance.  There are some who have argued the writers had “lost their ear” for dramatic verse and prose but it more likely they realized they had “lost their audiences” and these were people with bills to pay (the term “potboiler” was coined later to describe “books written only to provide food for the stove” but few authors of popular fiction have ever been far removed from concerns with their sales).  The reason the melodramas which flourished in the 1800s were so popular will be unsurprising to modern film-makers, political campaign strategists and other content providers for they can be deconstructed as a class of naively sensational entertainment in which the protagonists & antagonists were excessively virtuous or exceptionally evil (thus all tiresome complexities reduced for something black & white), the conflict played out with blood, thrills and violence (spectres, ghouls, witches & vampires or the sordid realism of drunkenness, infidelity or personal ruin used as devices as required).

The word “melodrama” appears often in commentaries on politics and that’s a trend which was probably accelerated by the presentation moving for most purposes to screens and Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021) revolutionizing the business by applying the tricks & techniques of reality TV (itself an oxymoron) meant the whole process can now be thought an unfolding melodrama, indeed, the Trump model cannot work as anything else.  The idea of “politics as theatre” was first discussed in the US in the 1960s but then a phenomenon like Mr Trump would have been thought absurdly improbable.

Because of the popularity of the form, melodrama has rarely found much favor with the critics and that old curmudgeon Henry Fowler (1858–1933) in A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926) noted (and, one suspects, not without some satisfaction) that the term generally was “…used with some contempt, because the appeal of such plays as are acknowledged to deserve the title is especially to the unsophisticated & illiterate whose acquaintance with human nature is superficial, but whose admiration for goodness and detestation of wickedness is ready & powerful.”  Henry Fowler moved among only a certain social stratum.  He added that the task of the melodramatist’s was to establish in the audience’s mind the notion of the dichotomous characters as good & wicked and then “…provide striking situations that shall provoke and relieve anxieties on behalf of poetic justice.”  One device once used to produce the desired effect was of course music and a whole academic industry emerged in the mid-twentieth century to explain how different sounds could be used to suggest or summon certain emotions and because music increasingly ceased to be an essential part of the melodramatic form, the situations, dialogue and events in purely textual productions became more exaggerated.

Fluff

Fluff (pronounced fluhf)

(1) Light, downy particles, as of cotton.

(2) A soft, light, downy mass.

(3) In slang, a cloth diaper (nappy).

(4) In slang (New England region in the US), marshmallow crème, thus the local delicacy the “fluffernutter” (a sandwich made with peanut butter and marshmallow fluff), once a favorite of children’s school lunches but now likely to attract “mother shaming” on Instagram.

(5) In LGBTQQIAAOP slang, the passive partner in a lesbian relationship, known also as a “ruffle”.

(6) In slang, (Australia, New Zealand, Canada), a fart.

(7) In the slang of pop-culture fandom, fan fiction which (in whole or in part) is “sweet and feel-good” in tone, usually involving romance.

(8) In the slang (UK) of the role-playing game community, a form of role-playing which is inconsequential and not related to the plot and used sometimes in the context of (but not limited to) filling time.

(9) In UK slang short change deliberately given by a railway clerk (keeping the money for themselves), an example of a “deliberate fluff” (obsolete).

(10) Figuratively, something of no consequence; insubstantial.

(11) Figuratively (of literature, political argument, philosophy et al), a slight work or one of dubious artistic or intellectual value; unscholarly (used also as a polite euphemism for “bullshit (BS)” which is less explicit than “cattle feces” (“cattle faeces in non-US English).

(12) An error (flub, lapse, blooper, blunder, boo-boo, defect, error, fault, faux pas, gaffe, lapse, mistake, slip, stumble, brain-fart, brain-explosion), especially an actor's memory lapse in the delivery of lines (often in the form “fluffed their lines”.

(13) A young woman (often as “a bit of fluff”), the implication being of her providing a brief, amusing diversion rather than one sought for a permanent relationship)

(14) To make into fluff; shake or puff out (feathers, hair etc) into a fluffy mass (often followed by up).

(15) To make a mistake.

(16) To become fluffy; move, float, or settle down like fluff.

1780s: From the earlier (or perhaps contemporary) floow (woolly substance, down, nap, lint (which appeared also as flough, flue & flew)), possibly from the West Flemish vluwe (an imitative modification of floow), of uncertain origin but which may be from the French velu (hairy, furry), from the Latin villūtus (having shaggy hair), from villus (shaggy hair, tuft of hair) and may be compared with the Old English flōh (that which is flown off, fragment, piece), linked to the later “flaw”.  Although undocumented, etymologists generally conclude the word may have been a blend of flue +‎ puff.  “Fluffy stuff” is a common phenomenon in the natural world and descriptors existed in many European languages including the possibly onomatopoeic Middle Dutch vloe, the dialectal English floose, flooze & fleeze (particles of wool or cotton; fluff; loose threads or fibres), the Danish fnug (down, fluff) and the Swedish fnugg (speck, flake).  Traces of the sound of the word “fluff” are found in other languages including the Japanese フワフワ (fuwafuwa) (lightly, softly), the Hungarian puha (soft, fluffy), the Polish puchaty (soft, fluffy) and the Romanian puf (down; peachfuzz; soft hair of some animals; powderpuff).  Fluff & fluffing are nouns & verbs, fluffed is a verb, fluffiness & fluffer are nouns, fluffless & flufflike are adjectives, fluffy is an adjective (and non-standard) noun and fluffily is an adverb; the noun plural is fluffs.

Fluffied: Lindsay Lohan in bikini embellished with faux fur, photo-shoot for the fifth anniversary of ODDA magazine, April 2017.

In idiomatic use there’s “fluff around” of “fluff about” (ineffectually to act or waste time”, “fluff off” (an affectionate form of “fuck off”), “fluff-ball” or “ball of fluff” (a fluffy kitten or puppy with the quality of “cuteness”), “bum fluff” or “belly-button fluff” (small particles the fabric of clothing which accumulates in body crevices), “fluffhead” (someone vague or confused (synonymous with “airhead”), “fluff up” (a polite version of “fuck up”).  The term “fluffy bunny” isn’t from lagomorphology (the scientific study of rabbits (small mammals in the family Leporidae)) although it may be assumed it’s often heard in pet shops.  Fluffy bunny (also as “fluff bunny” & “fluffbunny”) was an adaptable noun used to mean: (1) a synonym of chubby bunny (a competitive eating game in which contestants had to pronounce words or phrases (such as “Irish wristwatch”) while holding increasing numbers of marshmallows is their mouth), (2) in the strange world of quantum mechanics, quantum entanglement which in theory can occur in theory never arises because of other physics and (3) a derogatory descriptor of a casual, naive practitioner of Wicca (or other neo-pagan religion), especially one deemed to have only a superficial understanding.  The slang “bit of fluff” (young woman with who one is enjoying or planning a brief affair) was first recorded in 1903 while the use to describe marshmallow confection seems to date from at least 1920, noted in Massachusetts.  The verb in the sense of “to shake into a soft mass” was in use by 1875 (directly from the noun) while the meaning “make a mistake” dates from 1884 as theater slang to refer to acts who had forgotten their lines.  The adjective fluffy (containing or resembling fluff) came into use in the 1820s.

Watergate Fluff

Watergate fluff is one of the alternative terms for the dish “Watergate Salad”, the others including Green Fluff, Green Goddess, Fluff Salad and Funeral Salad, the last picked up reputedly because it was so often served at wakes.  It’s not clear how the culinary delight came to be called “Watergate Salad” although there’s no doubt the use was triggered by some association the Watergate scandal of the early 1970s which revolved around attempts by the administration of Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974) to “cover up” the involvement of operatives connected to the White House with the break-in in June 1972 of the Democratic National Committee (DNC) headquarters in Washington DC’s Watergate Building.  Interestingly, although the scandal (in the public perception although the legal proceedings would last longer) ended in August 1974 when Nixon resigned, the first known use of the term “Watergate Salad” dates from 1975 although in September 1974, Maryland's Hagerstown Daily Mail had published the recipe for “Watergate Cake”, also a similarly green-tinted dessert made with pistachio pudding in the mix and sometimes the icing.

The dish however predates the term.  Some claim the Kraft Foods Corporation deserves credit (apparently as a proud boast rather than an admission of guilt) as the creator because in 1975 they published a recipe called “Pistachio Pineapple Delight” as part of a promotional campaign to support the release that year of their “Pistachio Pudding Mix” (something with a long tradition, a whipped cream and pineapple concoction detailed in a Kansas newspaper in 1913, the year Richard Nixon was born).  At that point, history and myth become hard to separate, one story saying the food editor of the Chicago Tribune named it to stimulate interest, suggesting it was the ideal snack to enjoy while watching the televised hearings of proceedings pursuant to the scandal while another claimed it was associative because the Watergate Hotel (in the infamous building) served the salad on their popular weekend buffets; no menus appear to have survived to prove or disprove that one.  Best of was the link was because the salad was “full of nuts” (like the crew involved in the scandal, including the memorable lawyer and Watergate conspirator & burglary coordinator G Gordon Liddy (1930–2021) who wasn’t really “a nut” but is often portrayed as one).  True or not, that’s the one which deserves to be accepted.

Aleita Dupree's Watergate Salad recipe

Ingredients

1 (3 ½ oz) box of instant pistachio pudding mix.
1 (20 oz) can of crushed pineapple with juice (most use sweetened).
1 (8 oz) container of cool whip, thawed.
1 heaped cup of miniature marshmallows.
½ cup of chopped pecan nuts.
Stemmed maraschino cherries for garnish (optional).

Instructions

(1) In glass serving bowl, mix crushed pineapple and juice with pistachio pudding mix.  Stir pudding until mix completely is dissolved and mixture is smooth.

(2) Fold in the thawed cool whip.  Gently fold until pudding and cool whip is completely blended.

(3) Add miniature marshmallows and pecans.  Cover and chill until salad is set (should take up to 30 minutes).

(4) To serve, garnish with stemmed cherries and extra chopped pecans (if desired).

Fluff in fashion

Fluffiness in fashion: Lindsay Lohan in Falling for Christmas (Netflix, 2022, left) and in New York to promote Irish Wish (Netflix, 2024, right).  The fluffy cream coat is by David Koma (Davit Komakhidze (Georgian: დავით კომახიძე); b 1985)) a London-based, Georgian-born fashion designer (the label of his fashion house is stylized as DΛVID KOMΛ).  The crystal payette-embroidered layered cup bra hints at the profile of the customer base; it’s on sale at US$1250 (down from US$1750).  The fashion business is regarded by some as a bit “fluffy” (frocks and such) compared with “hard” industries such as heavy engineering or nuclear weapons construction but the annual turnover of the global fashion industry is substantial.  The numbers bounce around a bit because it difficult to determine where “fashion” ends and “commodities” begin but estimates between US$1.5-2.5 trillion are widely quoted (In financial use, one trillion = 1,000,000,000,000 (one million million or 1,000 billion)).