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Personal Update

RIP Steven Silverfish, 2017–2023

It is with great sorrow that I announce the passing of my dearly beloved vehicle who, on February 15, 2023, crossed the bridge from this world into a better one.

A 2017 Honda Fit, Steven was faithful, reliable, and above all, automatic. After serving faithfully for years as my father’s commuter car, he came into my association, where he traveled to such exotic destinations as Boise, Idaho and the Springville Walmart. He recently celebrated his 100,000th birthday in the parking lot of Einstein Bros Bagels in Provo, Utah. A dramatic, violent affair with a Toyota Camry led to his early demise.

Steven is survived by my brother’s Mitsubishi and my parents’ Chevys and Honda. He will be dearly missed. ∎

Categories
Random

Some Big Words From Some Thick Books

In elementary school, my teacher assigned us to read books at home and write down all the words we didn’t know. This was one of our main methods for studying vocabulary, and it continued through middle school, gradually dying out in high school English.

That was probably the apogee of my vocabulary development. There are no classes in college where you learn English vocabulary (except for domain-specific jargon). I guess the idea is that you’re supposed to already have a fully fleshed-out vocabulary by the time you get to college. And if you see a word you don’t know, you look it up yourself. Or, more realistically, you just skip it, and if anyone asks, you knew that word all along.

I just finished reading the novel Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel, which was full of insightful and evocative prose, and discovered that one of the joys of reading books written for adults is exploring the outermost nooks and crannies of your language, the ones that you don’t usually reach when you’re dusting unless you’re a particularly skilled—or ostentatious—writer (Mantel, fortunately, is the former). In honor of doing this in elementary school when it was a lot harder, here are 14 words I came across this past month that I didn’t skip over, for once:

Parochial: having a limited or narrow outlook or scope.
Venality: the quality of being open to bribery or overly motivated by money.
Inchoate: just begun and so not fully formed or developed; rudimentary.
Intransigent: unwilling or refusing to change one’s views or to agree about something.
Supine: lying face upward; failing to act or protest as a result of moral weakness or indolence.
Intractable: hard to control or deal with.
Truculent: eager or quick to argue or fight; aggressively defiant.
Recondite: little known; abstruse.
Opprobrious: expressing scorn or criticism.
Syncretic: characterized or brought about by a combination of different forms of belief or practice.
Compunction: a feeling of guilt or moral scruple that prevents or follows the doing of something bad.
Equanimity: mental calmness, composure, and evenness of temper, especially in a difficult situation.
Rapacity: aggressive greed.
Susurration: whispering, murmuring, or rustling.

Used in a sentence: “The intransigently venal guard, in his truculent rapacity, felt no compunctions over his opprobrious remark to the intractable monk of some recondite syncretic order who, lacking equanimity, responded to the guard’s parochial and barely inchoate criticisms by falling supine and mimicking the susurration of the river.”

My friend Camryn: “That was incomprehensible. There’s a word for you.” ∎

Categories
Random

Dear Jason Kehe: Don’t Be a Bigot

(Language warning. I typically try to avoid vitriol in my writing. But at the moment, I’m pretty pissed. For two years as a missionary I had no choice but to stand there and take it when people hated me because of the religion and ethnic group I grew up in and belong to. When a high-profile piece comes after one of the kindest writers I’ve had the good fortune of meeting and one of the most gracious and open-minded religious people Ive been blessed to learn from, I feel compelled to respond. Prejudice of any kind is unacceptable and ought to be condemned in the strongest possible terms. Here is my reply to Mr. Jason Kehe’s article in WIRED, which you can find here, if you want to stoop low enough to give it a click.)

Dear Mr. Kehe.

I was stunned and disgusted by the malice and bigotry towards your subject in particular, and Mormons in general, in your recent article entitled “Brandon Sanderson Is Your God”. I had not realized that such prejudice was permitted to be printed before the public eye.

Let me repeat a few of your sentences back to you. If you fail to see the outrageous extent of your biases, try replacing “Mormon” with the name of some other group that you realize it’s not okay to discriminate against—Jews, Black people—insert the slur of your choice.

“Could it be, finally, because he’s a weirdo Mormon?”
“Sanderson is extremely Mormon. What makes less sense is why there’s a hole the size of Utah where the man’s literary reputation should be.”
“Post-Kickstarter campaign, [his] company is now 50-some-people/Mormons strong.”
“It’s no secret: Mormonism is the fantasy of religion. ‘The science-fiction edition of Christianity,’ I’ve heard it called.”

If your article had contained the words “he’s a weirdo Jew,” would it have reached publication? To tolerate rhetoric like this is to tolerate ethnic and religious hatred, plain and simple. To use such rhetoric is to promote such hatred.

The remainder of your article is in a like spirit and your criticism reaches far outside the bounds of propriety. You show nothing but contempt for your subject (“depressingly, story-killingly lame”); your reader (“You’re not ready for [Sanderson’s words] just yet”); your ineptitude at your own craft (“This story has an ending, I promise”); and, bafflingly, Hugh Jackman (“I can’t help it. I burst into tears”). Recounting how you insulted Mr. Sanderson’s writing in front of his wife, you say, “recklessly, I say what’s on my mind. I have to.” You “have to”? You expect your reader to sympathize with your, a literary professional’s, inability to find anything nice to say to your gracious host?

No, Mr. Sanderson’s prose is not transcendent. Mr. Sanderson views the novel differently than you do. While you’ve spent your time gatekeeping the medium as a hallowed monument to grammatical sentences in this malicious sink you intend to pass off as journalism, Mr. Sanderson has been celebrating diversity through his novels, “good” prose or otherwise. He doesn’t care about sentence structure. That you see Sanderson’s word choice as a more important issue than not shitting on someone who welcomed you into his home and introduced you to his family is a more damning condemnation of your moral fibre than I could pen here. Sure, “he is no great gift to English prose,” but neither are you any credit to your craft, Mr. Kehe—this article is all about yourself, about how you’re struggling to meet your deadline because you find your subject so insufferably boring, showing not the finest modicum of the imagination that Mr. Sanderson has built his career on, and so you attempt to pull Mr. Sanderson down with you. “I begin to think, This is what I drove all the way from San Francisco to the suburbs of Salt Lake City in the freezing-cold dead of winter for?” you write. Your readers deserve better than your public self-pity at your failure to write the article you wanted.

Mr. Sanderson’s kind response to you exhibited a level of decorum that far outweighs your spiteful character. Your hateful excuse for an article has shown you to be nothing less than a petty bully with an inability to express an iota of gratitude for the hospitality shown to you, and a bigot who repays that hospitality with insults on a kind man’s family, friends, and sincere faith. Such behavior ought not to be tolerated from a child, much less from the front page of a major media outlet such as WIRED and a professional such as yourself. I acknowledge your right to express your opinion, Mr. Kehe, and I urge you to exercise it wisely in the future by keeping your mouth shut.

Your obedient servant,

Eric Christensen Attica