OK. I admit it. I am totally addicted to crossword puzzles. My sister and my two daughters have been taken with Sudoku. I gave it a try, but as soon as I hit a snag, I ask, “Why am I doing this? I’m not learning anything.”
However annoying some crosswords may be, at least I can learn a new word or a bit of jargon that I never heard or understood. But Sudoku, which nobody seems to pronounce the same way, is just numbers. Or rather patterns, my sister says.
Anyway, before leaving on my latest excursion, I bought two books of The New York Times crosswords (not the Sunday ones) edited by Will Shortz. I chose the omnibus of easy ones because they’re usually doable in less than 20 minutes. Not so demanding that I can’t also listen to “All Things Considered” or the morning news on NPR. And, of course, they’re a good way to wake up my brain in the morning before I sit down to write or research something. Or in the evening during station breaks on PBS (at least it’s not pledge week). Satisfying if one is completed in 20 minutes without a glitch or a peek at Webster’s or (gasp!) at the solutions in back of the book.
I suppose everyone who loves crosswords has a system to avoid the mistakes that frustrate completion. When going for a speed record, it helps to complete a square at a time: one across, one down, two down, two across, three down and so forth. But if your goal is not to use the eraser, it’s better to go down the list of clues, filling in all proper names, quotes, song lyrics, etc. that are unambiguous.
There are some words that are ubiquitous, not because they’re interesting words, but because they have the needed letters in the right order. Of these, my least favorite are: aper (mimic), ens and ems (printers measures), epee (fencing sword), erg (a unit of work). Others, though present even in small dictionaries, are just too obscure: tun (a large cask). When did you last see that one?
I usually stay away from the three long theme phrases until I get a sense of what they’re likely to be. But sometimes, as in song lyrics, particularly from Broadway shows, I can do those right away. Puzzle No. 5 in the Omnibus starts the theme line with “The Bronx is Up But” making the second line, “The Battery’s Down” a cinch. The third, “It’s a Helluva Town” falls right in even though the sequence skips the song’s title, “New York, New York.” I was ready to love this puzzle but by the last lines I was ready to kill. Clue: Where Durban is; Answer: Natal. If those letters were needed, why not define natal as relating to birth? The last square was the worst. Three names I swear I never heard. Gershwin biographer David: Ewen, “Momo” author Michael: Ende and Baseball’s Sandberg: Ryne. These just make me feel ignorant.
Other times, the theme is a quip or quote that’s impossible to get right away without knowing the author.
And then there are the Bible references, for instance, O.T. book after Gen. (Exod.), which generally leave me stumped, but I try to remember these to prepare for “Jeopardy.”
My pet peeve is the clue that is not only obscure or arcane, but just plain wrong. I’ve been known to scream when the clue for prone is, “flat on one’s back” or “face up” when it should be “Lying face down.” Or the clue for staunch is “Stem the flow (that would be stanch) when it ought to be: strong, steadfast, loyal or resolute.
I confess that I’m occasionally so annoyed with a poor clue or a clumsy word that I’m tempted to try constructing my own crossword, but I scarcely know how to begin. I guess the best way is to make a grid, then get the theme phrases down first, then start filling in squares based on those letters.
Here I face the same problem that allows my daughter to regularly trounce me at Scrabble. She is determined to use the high numbered letters on double or triple letter or double word squares. She’ll hang on to those X, Q, and Z tiles until she can place them on a square that nets her 30 points. No matter how dumb the word. Me, I just want to make great words, even if they earn only six or eight points. Or place one letter in a space that makes three new words. Satisfaction but no winning scores.
My ideal crossword would use words like tacit, vapid, torpid, stupor, flacid and dolt. Maybe I’d start with a quote by Dorothy Parker or a verse by Ogden Nash.
This could be an interesting project. On the other hand, it might produce screams of frustration. But then it couldn’t be worse than Sudoku.