Homage

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

(1) Respect or reverence paid or rendered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apothaneintheloish

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

An expression of a wish to die.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Palace

Palace (pronounced pal-is)

(1) The official residence of an emperor, king, queen, bishop or other exalted personage.

(2) A large and stately mansion or building.

(3) A large and often ornate structure used for entertainment, exhibitions etc.

(4) To decorate or ornate (obsolete).

1200–1250: From the Middle English palais (official residence of an emperor, king, queen, archbishop etc), from the earlier paleys, from the Old French palais (palace, court), from the Medieval Latin palācium (“a palace” and a spelling variant of the Classical palātium (generic use of Palātium, in reference to the Palatine (from Mons Palatinus (the Palatine Hill)), one of the seven hills of Ancient Rome, where the aristocracy of the Roman Republic (and later the emperors) built large, splendid residences)).  The hill’s name may be from the Latin palus (stake) on the notion of "an enclosure" while some speculate it’s from the Etruscan and connected with Pales (said to be although this too is contested “an Italic goddess of shepherds, flocks and livestock).  One noted etymologist linked it with palatum "roof of the mouth; dome, vault", the rationale being that because “palate” can be referred to as a “flattened or vaulted” part and the terms “flat” and “vaulted” are often applied to hills in accordance with their shape; on that basis, the idea of a derivation of palatium from palatum seems compelling.  Palācium was the source also of the Spanish palacio and the Italian palazzo.  The modern French palace is a direct borrowing from the English which was from the Old French palais.  In English, the general sense of "magnificent, stately, or splendid dwelling place" emerged by circa 1300 and the ironic sense is documented from the early 1600s although it may have been in oral use earlier.  The French palais was the source of the German Palast, the Swedish palats and other Germanic forms whereas others, such as Old English palant and the Middle High German phalanze (Pflaz in modern German) are from the Medieval Latin word.  Palace is a noun, palaced & palace-like are adjective, palacing is a verb and palaceward an adverb.  The noun plural is palaces.

The noun palazzo (large and imposing building) was from the 1660s, from Italian palazzo.  The adjective palatial (of the nature of a palace, magnificent) dates from 1754 and was from the French palatial (magnificent) from the Latin palātium (see palace); the adverb palatially is noted from 1761.  In Middle English there was palasin (literally "belonging to a palace or court"), dating from circa 1400, from the Old French and palatian (1845) was a revival in that sense and most associated with the palaces of India under the Raj.  Palacious, noted first in the 1620s, meant “magnificent, of the nature of a palace” but is long obsolete.  The noun paladin is from the 1590s and was used by those (many) authors of the medieval romance cycle (one of the twelve knightly champions in attendance on Charlemagne and accompanying him to war) and was from the sixteenth century French paladin (a warrior), from the from Italian paladino, from the Latin palatinus (palace official), noun use of palatinus (of the palace).  In the Old French the spelling was palaisin (from which Middle English gained the circa 1400 palasin) but the Italian form prevailed, even though the subject matter was French, simply because most of the poets attracted to most of the poets attracted to the tales were Italian.  The extended sense of "a heroic champion" dates from 1788 and the modern use is often negative in the sense of describing operatives and functionaries associated with political leaders.

In the palace: Lindsay Lohan meeting with Recep Tayyip Erdoğan (b 1954; prime-minister or president of the Republic of Türkiye since 2003), Presidential Palace, Ankara, Türkiye, 27 January 2017.

The adjective palatine (possessing quasi-royal privileges (literally "pertaining to a palace)), was by the mid-fifteenth century applied to counties and non-sovereign states, conveying the meaning "ruled by a lord who has privileges resembling those of an independent sovereign"; it was from the fifteenth century Old French palatin and directly from the Medieval Latin palatinus (of the palace (ie "of the Caesars”), from palātium.  In Medieval Latin there was palatinus, a title given to one holding any office in the palace of a prince, hence "possessing royal privileges" and best understood as something like the “courtesy titles” which are a feature of the UK’s system of peerage.  The German state of Rhineland-Palatinate was created in 1946 (as part of the abolition of Prussia) and is made up of parts of the former states of Prussia, Bavaria & Hesse (including Bavaria’s former Palatinate kreis (district)).  The historic Rhineland state was once an electorate in the Holy Roman Empire and by the early eighteenth century, Palatinate was also a noun meaning "resident of or immigrant from the German Palatine".

1200-odd rooms and twenty times the size of the White House: The Quirinal Palace, Rome.  Had things worked out better for Napoleon Boneparte (1769-1821), the Quirinal would have be the seat of his imperial rule. 

There had long been houses larger than others but as legend has it, it’s Nero (Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, 37–68; Roman emperor 54-68) who is regarded as having ordered the first.  Rome’s Palantine hill had always been a central part of the city but as the metropolis spread, it became the smartest “suburb” and the place many rich and prominent citizens built their houses.  Noting this, the Emperor Nero ordered all on the hill be evicted and their properties purchased so a vast and elaborate dwelling could be erected for him alone and this was named the palātium (literally “on the site of the palatine”).  From this history is ultimately derived the synecdochic and metonymic use of palace, the general “the palace” historically referring to the views or policies of kings and more recently to whatever may be thought or done by the now more typically non-royal inhabitants.

The Élysée Palace, Paris.

Sometimes, the reference may be specific such as “the Quirinal” (referencing Rome’s Quirinal Palace), used variously and metonymically for (1) the Italian civil government as opposed to that of the Holy See in the Vatican, (2) the (2) the court of the king as opposed to the fascist government of the Duce and (3) in Modern Italy the office of the (indirectly elected and mostly ceremonial) presidency as opposed to that of the (popularly elected and executive) prime-minister.  The use is common in countries where the head of state or government is in some way associated (though not of necessity resident) with a palace although the form of use varies for reasons which may be historic or linguistic.  In France, it’s usually “the Élysée” when speaking of the government (or sometimes of the president vis-à-vis the government) although BBC journalists do seem fond of “the Élysée Palace”.  The BBC may also be a good guide to use in the UK, impressionistically preferring “the palace” for home consumption and “Buckingham Palace” when seeking to make clear to foreign audiences that much of what is attributed to the Queen of England is really the thoughts of the royal court, an operation at the scale of a SMB (small & medium business) which runs “the firm”.  Either way, pronouncements from “the palace” or “Buckingham Palace” which once concerned the great affairs of Church, state and empire, seem now more often about family scandals and squabbles.  In the Philippines, both “Malacañang Palace” and “Malacañang” are used to refer to executive government, the choice dictated seemingly by whichever best suits the sentence construction.

A palace guard, Buckingham Palace, London.

In idiomatic use, a “palace coup” (short for Coup d'état (literally "blow of state")) is a general term indicating one faction or family member has overthrown another, something which can be as innocuous as a vote or as dramatic as actual regicide.  A “palace revolution” is actually the same thing but it would be handy if a convention of use could evolve whereby it indicates the more violent events while coups can suggest more civilized changes.  A “palace guard” is literally a police or military squad which provides both physical security and a ceremonial presence at a palace; figuratively it refers to any group protecting someone or something.  A puck palace is an informal North American terms to describe an especially impressive ice hockey stadium.

Pink gin.

The casual term gin palace (literally “A tavern that serves gin”) is anything thought a bit disreputable and a bit gaudy, reflecting London society’s disapproval of the corroding effects of gin on the working class.  A memorable variation was the “floating gin palace, applied to the Royal Navy’s HMS Agincourt, a dreadnought launched in 1913 and fitted out with unusual elaborateness because it’d originally been built to the specification of a foreign navy, the luxury attracting wits who, noting the corruption of her name (A Gin Court) and the alleged fondness by captains and admirals afloat for Pink Gin (Plymouth Gin with a dash of Angostura bitters, the bitters lending the mix a pinkish hue), decided it should be call the “floating gin palace”.

HMS Agincourt, Scapa Flow, Scotland, 1918.

HMS Agincourt was an unusual ship with a curious history and a design unique in the Admiralty list.  Built originally for the Brazilians, then in the throes of the brief but intense South American naval arms race, before completion she was sold to the Ottoman Empire but, with the outbreak of war in 1914, the ship was seized by the British, an act which some historians maintain influenced Turkey to ally with the Central Powers, thereby triggering a chain of events which included the Allied attempt to force the straits of the Dardanelles (remembered in Australia & New Zealand as the Gallipoli campaign) and the eventual break-up of the Ottoman Empire, unleashing forces which to this day still ripple across the region from the Rock of Gibraltar to the Persian Gulf.  The geopolitical speculations aside, Agincourt was of note for being the dreadnought which mounted more heavy guns (fourteen) and more turrets (seven) than any other.  Although that configuration didn’t represent the current thinking in naval architecture, it was certainly in keeping with the Brazil’s requirement for an especially impressive looking ship, rather than one optimized for a high-seas battle.

HMS Agincourt's stern gun turrets.

Reflecting this too was what remains reputedly the largest wardroom (85 x 60 feet (25.9 x 18.3 m) ever installed on a warship and one luxuriously equipped with tableware, crystal & silverware.  That was said to be an impressive sight but so must have been the wall of flame created the first time she fired those fourteen twelve inch (305 mm) naval canons in a broadside, observers noting it was “was awe inspiring and enough to enough to create the impression the ship had blown up”.  Dramatic though it was, the floating gin palace was undamaged, despite the concern of some that a broadside of 12,040 lb (5461 KG) (14 x 12 inch (305 mm) guns firing 860 lb (390 KG) shells) would impose a damaging load on the superstructure.  However, other dreadnoughts, such as the Iron Duke endured 14,000 lb (6350 KG) broadsides (10 x 13½ inch (343 mm) guns firing 1,400 lb (635 KG) shells) without ill-effect and the Agincourt too sailed serenely on.  However, much of the elegant tableware and glassware did shatter and little of what remained surviving subsequent broadsides.  Like much of the fleet, the floating gin palace saw little action during the war although she was part of the inconclusive Battle of Jutland (1916).  Agincourt was struck from the fleet in 1919 and scrapped in 1922 to meet the terms of the Washington Naval Treaty (1922).

1965 Citroën DS21 Pallas (left) & 2020 Citroën DS E Pallas Homage Study.

Citroën introduced the DS in 1955 and, because "DS" is a homophone of déesse (goddess), almost immediately it picked-up the nickname goddess.  In 1965, the factory introduced an up-market version of the DS called the Pallas, not an allusion to the luxury of palaces but a borrowing from Greek mythology, Pallas the goddess of wisdom and useful arts and prudent warfare; Pallas often used as an epithet of Athena.  The idea was that the Pallas would be thought the "goddess of goddesses".  Citroën have since applied the Pallas moniker to many models and in 2020 a designer created the Citroën DS E Pallas Homage Study, imagining a possible electric vehicle.

Lolita

Lolita (pronounced loh-lee-tuh)

(1) A female given name, a form of Charlotte or Dolores.

(2) A 1955 novel by Vladimir Nabokov.

(3) Referencing the eponymous character in the novel, a nymphet (or a representation of one in pornography) or a sexually precocious young girl (usually critically).

Lolita is a female given name of Spanish origin. It is the diminutive form of Lola, a hypocorism of Dolores (Lolita thus a double diminutive) which, depending on the source translates in Spanish as "suffering" or “sorrows”, the latter tending to be preferred because of the link with Maria de los Dolores.  Without any etymological evidence, some other (presumably fanciful) suggestions of meaning have included "a princess who loves pastel colors", "flower of love", "vivacious and beautiful" & "with a man's spirit".

As a given name, Dolores originated from La Virgen María de los Dolore (Virgin Mary of the Sorrows (dolores translating in Spanish as sorrows), one of the many titles given to the Blessed Mother in Spanish Roman Catholic tradition.  In the context of the Roman Catholic Church, Mary’s sorrows refer to seven events which occurred during her lifetime: (1) The Circumcision of Jesus, (2) the Flight from Jerusalem when Mary and Joseph take the baby Jesus to Egypt to protect him from King Herod of Judea’s orders to kill him, (3) the Finding in the Temple when Mary and Joseph lose the child Jesus only to find him later dwelling in the Temple among the elders, (4) Mary’s meeting with Jesus on the way to Calvary, (5) Jesus’ death on the cross, (6) Mary receiving the body of Jesus in her arms after he is taken down from the cross and (7) the placing of Jesus in the tomb.  The most observant Catholics observe a daily ritual in which they recite Our Father and seven Hail Marys in homage to the seven sorrows.  In the Spanish tradition, there are several given names derived from the many epithets given to the Blessed Mother, other examples including Concepción (referring to Mary’s immaculate conception); Corazón (referring to Mary’s immaculate heart); Luz (Our Lady of the “Light”); Mercedes (Our Lady of “Mercy”); Milagros (Our Lady of “Miracles”); Pilar (Our Lady of the “Pillars”); Rosario (Our Lady of the “Rosary”); and Soledad (Our Lady of “Solitude”).  From the late nineteenth century Dolores became popular among American Catholics and Nabokov’s novel seems briefly to have induced a spike in popularity which the later film adaptation (which reached a wider popular audience) may have quelled.  In the US, popularity peaked in 1963 and it’s never really recovered from the prurient associations explored by Nabokov.  Despite the reservations of parents in the English-speaking world, Lolita the name remains popular among Spanish speakers and in Europe.  In Latvia, Lolita’s name day is 30 May.

Sue Lyon in “Lolita Glasses” in Lolita (1962).  The most emblematic of the type are the sunglasses with the heart-shaped lens but the label is applied to many thick-rimmed styles, especially those with the sleek, “cats eye” shape.

Lindsay Lohan in Lolita glasses.

The 1955 novel by Vladimir Nabokov (1899-1977) was controversial even before being published in French, English language houses, sensing trouble, having initially declined the manuscript and nor has there ever been any consensus about the literary merit.  Coincidently or not, there had been a Imperial-era German short-story about a girl called Lolita.  Published in 1916 by Heinz von Lichberg (the pen-name of Heinz von Eschwege (1890-1951)), it was not dissimilar in its themes and there are a number of reasons it may have been Nabokov was influenced although, given the structural differences, plagiarism is too strong a word.  Whatever the qualities of the text, it remains interesting as a canvas onto which can be mapped the changing attitudes to child abuse (and its artistic depiction).  Tellingly, when Stanley Kubrick (1928-1999) in 1962 adapted the novel for the screen, many aspects of the original were toned down and twelve-year old Lolita was re-imagined as a child of 14, a change necessitated by the rules in some markets and it may have been hoped that if that was acceptable for William Shakespeare's (1564–1616) Romeo and Juliet (1597), it may have been also good enough for Kubrick’s Lolita.  Even as a morality tale, it was ambiguous; although the transgressive male protagonists all die in various unpleasant ways, so too do Lolita and her mother, the nominal female victims.

Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books (2003).

Reading Lolita in Tehran was a memoir by Iranian-American author and professor of English literature Azar Nafisi (b 1948), documenting her experiences living in the Islamic Republic of Iran between 1979-1997.  Structurally, the work uses books she and seven of her female students (one can see why the ayatollahs judged her subversive) discussed during the meetings of the book club she formed in 1995, one of which was Nabokov's Lolita which, although by then widely available in the West (indeed, for some, part of the canon) was a controversial text in Iran.  Memorably, Professor Nafisi compared Humbert Humbert’s treatment of Lolita with the way the Ayatollahs imposed on women their dreams of what women should be “…turning us into figments of their imagination.”  In both the book and the Islamic state, the crime is “solipsizing the lives of others.”

Sue Lyon, from a photo-shoot by US photographer Bert Stern (1929–2013), pre-release publicity set (1960).

What came to be called “Lolita glasses” (which are to this day marketed under that name) are the thick-rimmed items worn in the 1962 by Sue Lyon (1946-2019, thus aged 14-15 at the time of filming.  The most famous of the glasses, with the heart-shaped lens, were chosen by photographer Bert Stern who Kubrick in 1960 commissioned to produce some still images to be used in pre-release publicity.  Stern was already well known for his photographs of Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton, and would later create a famous set of images of Marilyn Monroe (1926–1962), the style of which he controversially reprised in 2008 with Lindsay Lohan (b 1986) as the subject.

Popularity of the name Lolita in the US, 1900-2017.  Impressionistically, as might be expected, a film will influence popular culture more than literary fiction, regardless of content.