Epizeuxis

Epizeuxis (pronounced ep-i-zook-sis)

A literary or rhetorical device used as a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is repeated emphatically with the intention of producing some desired effect.

1580–1590: From the Modern Latin epizeuxis, from the Ancient Greek ἐπίζευξις (epízeuxis) (a fastening together, a joining; in rhetoric the repetition (of words), from ἐπιζευγνύναι (epizeugnúnai), the construct being epi- (the epi- prefix was from the Ancient Greek ἐπί (epí) (on top of; in addition to (in a special use in chemistry), it denotes an epimeric (of or pertaining to an epimer (any diastereoisomer that has the opposite configuration at only one of the stereogenic centres) form)).+ zeûxis (the yoking (of oxen)); a joining) a verbal noun from ζευγνύναι (zeugnúnai) (to yoke, to join).  Epizeuxis is a noun; the noun plural is epizeuxes.

In speeches and in debate (that term often used generously when they’re involved), politicians use epizeuxis essentially because they’ve been taught to follow what works in advertising: use simple words and phrases (preferably a TWS (three word phrase)), endlessly repeated in a manner of delivery something like a school teacher uses with the less bright children.  There’s seems a tendency among the more cynical commentators to suggest the less sincere a politician is, the more they’re inclined to be epizeuxistic and while that’s impressionistic, cases like Sir Tony Blair (b 1953; UK prime-minister 1997-2007 (education, education, education)) and Dr Kevin Rudd (b 1957; Australian prime-minister 2007-2010 & 2013 (jobs, jobs, jobs)) do come to mind.  Still, in the hands of a master rhetorician, an epizeuxis, especially if unexpected, can be effective.

Lyndon Johnson (left) & Sam Rayburn (right), Washington DC, 1954.  The few left in the modern Democratic Party with any sense of history recall with some nostalgia the Johnson-Rayburn congressional era when, at its peak, the Democrats held majorities of 64-36 in the Senate and 263-174 in the House of Representatives.

In the 1964 US presidential election Lyndon Johnson (LBJ, 1908–1973; US president 1963-1969) faced the Republican nominee Barry Goldwater (1909–1998), the contest dubbed by some as “a crook versus a kook”.  Only days before the poll, LBJ turned up at Cresent City’s Jung Hotel in New Orleans to deliver a campaign speech which he began conventionally enough, telling the audience of 1500 Louisiana democrat faithful he would enforce the new civil rights law, guaranteeing every American free access to all public accommodations, which had passed with Senate support from “…two thirds of the Democrats and three-fourths of the Republicans.”  Years later, he would note the applause “…was less than overwhelming.”  He then paused before telling them of the words spoken to him by an old, dying Texas senator who had told house speaker Sam Rayburn (1882–1961) he wished he was well enough because “I would like to go back down there and make them one more Democratic speech.  I have one in me.  Poor old state, they haven’t heard a real Democratic speech in 30 years. All they ever hear at election time is Nigra, Nigra, Nigra.”

Even south of the Mason-Dixon Line, in 1964 for a president to utter the “N-word” (albeit in the form of a “polite southernism”) was startling and the reports in the press spoke of “...a collective gasp in the room” before the Southern audience gave the Southern president “…a five-minute standing ovation.”  It should though be remembered that in his massive biography (The Years of Lyndon Johnson, four of five volumes (1982-2012) thus far published), Robert Caro (b 1935) did note the conversion to racial equality came late in his life, his earlier uses of “Nigra, Nigra, Nigra” having a harsher edge.  Still, LBJ did achieve much to advance civil rights in the US and had the war in Vietnam not consumed his presidency, he would now be remembered differently although it was the reaction to his domestic policies which triggered the birth and growth of the “New Right” and the neo-liberal economic order which staged history’s greatest corporate takeover (ie most of the planet).  Political scientists have written much on the roots and evolution of the “New Left” but there remains a tendency to focus on the Reagan-Thatcher era (Ronald Reagan (1911-2004; US president 1981-1989) & Margaret Thatcher (1925–2013; UK prime-minister 1979-1990) as a kind of sudden “revolution” rather than something which really began in the wake of Goldwater’s massive defeat in 1964.

In rhetoric & literary use, the devices related to epizeuxis includes “anaphora, “diacope”, “contrastive reduplication” while in song writing and poetry there’s also “incremental repetition” (where a line is repeated with slight variations to advance the narrative or argument) and “refrain” (where a phrase or line repeated regularly, usually at the end of a stanza or verse.  Epizeuxis (known also as palilogia) involves the immediate repetition of words or phrases without any intervening words and often reinforced with, if written, an exclamation mark or if spoken, some sort of gesture.  As a device to convey vehemence, it works by emphasizing some point by (1) repetition & (2) delivery in quick succession.  It’s not the most refined of devices and in literature is best used with some infrequency because the power of its novelty fades fast although if deployed for comic effect, it can be used more often.  Joseph Conrad’s (Józef Teodor Konrad Korzeniowski, 1857–1924) use of “The horror, the horror!” in Heart of Darkness (1899) is a classic example of the effect but as endlessly used in advertising, it’s often just intrusive.

Anaphora (from the Ancient Greek ἀναφορά (carrying back)) is the repetition of words or phrases at the beginning of successive sentences or clauses.  Borrowing from poetry and often the chorus passages from various forms of music, it creates emphasis and rhythm.  It was a favourite of William Shakespeare (1564–1616) and “This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England” from Richard II (1595) illustrates how he used anaphora to make language flow.  The companion term is epistrophe (or epiphora), the repeating of words at a clauses' end.  The combination of anaphora and epistrophe results in symploce.

A diacope (from the Ancient Greek diakopḗ (cut in two) involves the repetition of words or phrases with a few intervening words, the emphasis achieved by a “sandwiching” (a special class of interpolation in structural linguistics) the repeated elements.  Again, Shakespeare provides perhaps the most famous example in English in having the Danish prince say “To be or not to be” (Hamlet (circa 1600) and a classically simple example is Ian Fleming’s (1908–1964)”Bond, James Bond”.  In linguistics there are three classes of diacope: (1) Vocative Diacope in which the repeated words are separated by nouns which directly are addressed (ie the noun must address something, or someone), (2) Elaborative Diacope where an adjective is used between the repeated words to enhance the meaning of the repeated word and (3) The extended diacope where for even more emphasis a word is repeated more than twice.

Lindsay Lohan and her then “girlfriend-girlfriend” Samantha Ronson (b 1977) at the release of her twin Charlotte Ronson's Spring 2009 line, New York Fashion Week, Bryant Park, New York, September 2008.  Among women, the “girlfriend-girlfriend” contrastive reduplication distinguishes “a friend who is female” from “a female lover”, the latter once often known by the euphemism “special friend”. (although author and one-time communist Jessica Mitford (1917-1996) liked "you-know-what-bian" which never caught on)  In this context “girlfriend” is exemplified by the gang of four in the HBO television series Sex and the City (1998–2004), based on Candace Bushnell’s (b 1958) compilation (the book Sex and the City (1996)) of columns (1994-1996) under the same title written for the New York Observer.  The same thing could be achieved by the adoption of the convention of using “girl friend” for friends and “girlfriend” for lovers (as men use the word) but that really works only in writing or with the addition of visual clues.

Contrastive reduplication (CR to the practitioners who treat the analysis as “phrasal focus movement (PFM)” although in the way of academic life it’s also called “identical constituent compounding” (ICC), “lexical cloning (LC)” “contrastive focus reduplication” (CFR) or “double construction” (DC), all grouped under the rubric of “syntactic reduplication” (SR)) is a widely practiced phenomenon of conversational speech in which a word or larger constituent is reduplicated to single out a default or prototypical meaning, one of the duplicates receiving or imparting the contrastive (focal) stress.  Sometimes used in conjunction with “air quotes”, structurally CR often makes no sense if deconstructed literary but they are widely understood:  “Do you like him or like-like him?” is in no way ambiguous, the first “like” interpreted as the default (dictionary” definition, the “duplicated like” carrying the “loaded” meaning.  In English, the first part of the reduplicant bears contrastive intonational stress.

Soiree

Soiree (pronounced swah-rey)

(1) An evening party or social gathering.

(2) Used loosely, a party or social gathering held at any time.

1793: from the French soirée (evening activity), the construct being the tenth century Old French soir (evening; night (from the Latin adverb sērō (late; at a late hour) which originally was an ablative of sērus) from sērum (a late time), from sērus (late), from the primitive Indo-European se-ro- (a suffixed form of the root se- (long, late) and the source also of the Sanskrit sayam (in the evening), the Lithuanian sietuva (deep place in a river), the Old English sið (after), the German seit (since), the Gothic seiþus (late), the Middle Irish sith and the Middle Breton hir (long)) + -ée (from the Latin –āta (feminine of –ātus) (the –ate suffix in English).  In French, the feminine suffix –ée was joined to nouns to make nouns expressing the quantity contained in the original noun and thus also relations of times (journée, matinée, année et al) or objects produced.  There was also the nineteenth century swarry, a coining for jocular effect representing the English pronunciation.  The suffix -ate was a word-forming element used in forming nouns from Latin words ending in -ātus, -āta, & -ātum (such as estate, primate & senate).  Those that came to English via French often began with -at, but an -e was added in the fifteenth century or later to indicate the long vowel.  It can also mark adjectives formed from Latin perfect passive participle suffixes of first conjugation verbs -ātus, -āta, & -ātum (such as desolate, moderate & separate).  Again, often they were adopted in Middle English with an –at suffix, the -e appended after circa 1400; a doublet of –ee.  In German the spelling is Soirée (plural Soiréen), the synonym being Abendgesellschaft (party held in the evening).  In English, the French soirée is now listed by most sources as an alternative spelling (a la café & cafe).  Soiree is a noun; the noun plural is plural soirees.

In English, strictly speaking, because of the origin in French (soir (evening) familiar in the greeting bon soir (good evening, a time specific way of saying “hello”)), a soiree is a social gathering held in the evening but it has long been used loosely and there have been many soirees held early in the day.  It can be debated whether there’s now an additional meaning (social gathering) or the real meaning is just being ignored but the word is certainly something of a middle-class favourite and it’s not unknown to receive an invitation to an “evening soiree” or “night time soiree” which may be tautological but the meaning shift is probably here to say.  The word is also used with modifiers to make the nature of an event clear (musical soiree; boho soiree, élite soiree; jubilee soiree; birthday soiree etc).

The successful soiree

Some etiquette guides devote entire chapters to the tricks and techniques which make a soiree a success, focusing on food, settings, surroundings and the guest list (who sits next to whom something of an art) and the most structured and demanding event is probably that classic of evening entertaining: the dinner party.  The catering arrangements obviously are critical but the consideration of other matters is also a minor linguistic feast: 

It’s best to avoid inviting the malesuete (“accustomed to poor habits”, an archaic adjective from the Latin malesuētus, the construct being male (badly; poorly) + suētus (past participle of suēscere (to become accustomed; to be used to)) because they tend to be “unaccustomed to good behaviour” and thus won’t fit in.  That doesn’t mean they’re ostracized by all because in their circles (composed of other other malesuete types) there are also soirees for them to enjoy.  Should there be some sort of filing error and a malesuete guest is at the table, all one can hope is that there’s only one of them because in pairs they’ll almost always constult (“to act stupidly together”, a verb from the Latin constult, the construct being con- (together) + stultus (foolish; fool)); they will encourage each other.  However, even the usually well-mannered can become malesuetesque when peloothered (“drunk, thoroughly intoxicated”, an adjective coined by James Joyce (1882–1941), possibly from Hiberno-English as a humorous dialectal corruption of blootered (“drunk”, an informal term in Scots English also meaning or polluted) so if possible research the effect of strong drink on potential invitees.  A caution like “drinks like a fish” need not of necessity mean someone must be chucked because there are amiable and amusing drunks but they may only make it to the reserve (last resort) list.

Deipnosophistry in practice: Lindsay Lohan at the Fox News table, White House Correspondents' Association annual dinner, a soiree at which there is much table talk, Washington DC, April 2012. 

Among the most desirable of those for a dinner party are deipnosophists (“those noted for their sparkling dinner-table conversation”, a noun from the Ancient Greek Δειπνοσοφισταί (Deipnosophistaí), the title of a literary work in fifteen volumes (translated usually as something like “philosophers at their dinner table”) by the third century scholar Athenaeus of Naucratis, describing learned discussions at a banquet, the construct being δειπνο- (deipno-) (meal) + σοφιστής (sophistḗs).  The plural of sophistḗs was sophistaí and the sense used by Athenaeus was one of “wise men knowledgeable in matters of art & science”.  A deipnosophist will never raise matters nefandous (“too odious to be spoken of”, an adjective from Latin nefandus, the construct being from ne- (in the sense of “not”) + fandus, gerundive of fārī (to speak) ao while they may think the unthinkable they’ll never speak the unspeakable.  If there is a guest who is particularly sensitive about some topic which usually is innocuous, it’s acceptable (and often advisable) quietly to advise to the others the matter is tacenda (“a thing not to be mentioned; a subject to be passed over in silence”, a noun from the Latin tacenda, future passive participle of taceo (to be silent, say nothing, to hold one's tongue).

Because of the physical layout of a dinner party (gathered together closely around a table) it’s not possible for a shy guest actually to latibulate (“to retreat and hide oneself in a corner”, a verb from the Latin, the construct being latibulum (hiding place) +‎ -ate (the verb-forming suffix), from lateō (to lie hidden) +‎ -bulum (the nominal suffix denoting instrument)) but there can be some (even the usually talkative) who for whatever reason become on the night taciturn (“tendency habitually to be silent”, a noun ultimately from the fifteenth century French taciturne, from the Latin taciturnus (not talkative; noiseless, quiet, maintaining silence), from tacitus (silent) & tacēre (to be silent).  Tempting though it is to ply them with alcohol (which can “loosen the tongue”), that’s a tactic not without risk and it’s recommended that if possible, a pretext is found to change the seating plan, re-allocating them a spot next to someone they might find more convivial.  At a small table, this will likely have no effect.  If on a second occasion a guest’s taciturnity is noted as truly as habitual, it may be they are deipnophobic (one who suffers the social anxiety deipnophobia (fear of eating in public)); don’t invite them again.

Advesperate: A set table, ready for a soiree.  The construct of advesperate (to draw towards evening) was the Latin ad- (to) + vesper. (evening; the evening meal) from the Proto-Italic wesperos, from the primitive Indo-European wek-w-speros, the cognates including the Ancient Greek ἕσπερος (hésperos), the Old Church Slavonic вєчєръ (večerŭ) and the Old Armenian գիշեր (gišer).  In the liturgical orders of Christianity (and always in the plural "vespers"), it's the sixth of the seven canonical hours (an evening prayer service).

There are also those who may be good conversationalists but exhibit some bad habits which are not good to display at dinner parties (although many are close to obligatory at the beer & bourbon soaked malesuete soirees).  They may obganiate (“to cause irritation by reiteration” (ie to annoy by repeating over and over and over and over…”, a verb from the Italian ostinato (obstinate, persistent), a variant of which is the act of epizeuxis (“the repetition of a word with vehemence and emphasis”, a noun from the Modern Latin epizeuxis, from the Ancient Greek ἐπίζευξις (epízeuxis) (a fastening upon), from ἐπιζευγνύναι (epizeugnúnai), the construct being ἐπί (epí) (upon) + ζευγνύναι (zeugnúnai) (to yoke).  As a rhetorical technique, an epizeuxis can be an effective way to make a point but at a dinner party it should never be accompanied by a dactylodeiktous gesture (“pointed at with a finger”, an adjective from the Ancient Greek, the construct being δάκτυλος (dáktylos) (finger) + δεικτός (deiktós), from the verb δείκνυμι (deíknumi) (to show; to point out) + -ous (the suffix indicating an adjective or descriptive quality).  When noticing such things, a host should adopt the demeanour of a discountenancer (“one who discourages with cold looks to convey disapproval”, a noun from the French décontenancer, from the Middle French descontenancer).

Not a residentarian: Crooked Hillary Clinton in blue pantsuit leaving (early) the soiree planned to celebrate her victory in the 2016 US presidential election, Manhattan, New York, November 2016.

Also tiresome at such a soiree those who beyelp (loudly to talk of, boast of, glory in”, a verb from the Middle English beyelpen, from the Old English beġielpan (to boast) and tend to speak in rodomontades (vainglorious boasting or bragging; pretentious, bluster”, a noun from the Middle French rodomontade, the construct being the Italian Rodomonte (name of the boastful Saracen king of Algiers in two Italian Renaissance epic poems + the Middle French –ade (the suffix used to form nouns denoting action, or a person performing said action), from the Occitan -ada, from the Latin -ata.  In dialectal Italian the name means literally “one who rolls (away) the mountain” (clipped also to “roll-mountain”).  Fortunately, such types are usually elozable (“readily influenced by flattery”, an archaic adjective coined in the sixteenth century the construct obscure but believed to be elo- (from the Latin eloqui (to speak out) + -zable (a variant of the suffix –able (denoting capability or possibility) with the inserted “z” presumably a phonetic convenience.  To deal with such guests, one may need to heterophemize (“to say something different from what you mean to say”, a verb from the Ancient Greek, the construct being hetero-, from the ἕτερος (heteros) (other; different) +-phem-, from φημί (phēmi) (to speak; to say) + -ize (a suffix conveying the notion of “to make; to do” or “to perform the act of”) which is OK because it’s been done before and at some dinner parties in polite society conversations are conducted with little else.  One will though need eventually to be more direct with the residentarian (“a person who is given to remaining at table”, a modern English noun, the construct being resident +arian (the suffix a back-formation from various words ending in “arian”, some directly derived from Classical or Medieval Latin words ending in -arius by adding “-an” to the stem, other indirectly via Old French words ending in “arien(ne)” or “erien(ne)” or from English words ending in “ary” to which “-an” was suffixed.  It was used to create nouns in the sense of (1) a believer in something, (2) an advocate of something or (3) a native or inhabitant of somewhere.  The next day, when reviewing yesterneve (“yesterday evening”, a noun, the construct being yester(day) + -n- + eve(ning), decide which guest must be chucked (never again to be invited) and which adorned the table and thus to be added to the xenium list (“a gift given to a guest”, a noun from the Latin xenium (a gift given to guests or foreign ambassadors, often of food, in Ancient Greece or Rome), from the  Ancient Greek ξένιον (xénion) from the Ionic.