Word Salad

What's a Clue For?

Joshua Kosman and Henri Picciotto on May 2, 2013 - 2:53 PM ET

In a previous blog post, we floated some unorthodox suggestions about ways to construct a cryptic clue, playing off ideas from Peter Biddlecombe, the cryptic crossword editor at the Sunday Times (in London). One of those involved using a clue’s syntax to soften up the common requirement that the definition appear at the beginning or the end of the clue.

To clue INSANE, for instance, instead of the traditional:
Mix sienna to get mad (6)

Setting an Example

Joshua Kosman and Henri Picciotto on April 25, 2013 - 5:04 PM ET

In a previous post, we discussed the views of (London’s) Sunday Times cryptic crossword editor Peter Biddlecombe on the possibility of cryptic clues in which the definition is neither at the beginning nor at the end. Today, we respond to his ideas about “defining by example.” He writes:

Many setters and editors insist that you must indicate “definition by example‚” when you use it. They would never use “Alsatian‚” alone for DOG, but would use something like “Alsatian?‚”“Alsatian, perhaps‚” or “I may be Alsatian.” Keeping a long story short, although lots of people work this way, I can see no compelling logical reason for doing so.

To Be Continued...

Joshua Kosman and Henri Picciotto on April 18, 2013 - 2:01 PM ET

Earlier this week, a solver posted this question in a public forum: “I haven’t been doing the Nation puzzle for that long. What is the significance of the ellipsis at the end and beginning of consecutive clues?” It’s a great question, and an example of the kind of thing that can become so transparent to experienced solvers and constructors that we lose sight of the possibility for confusion.

The short answer is that the ellipsis is there purely to help the surface of the clues read in a natural way. The premise is that two clues joined by an ellipsis can be construed as a single sentence or phrase, reading right across the clue boundary. But that’s only on the surface, mind you—when it comes to solving, each clue stands alone and yields its own answer.

As constructors, we find that we resort to ellipses under two conditions: opportunity and necessity. Sometimes we join two clues together simply because we can—when the workings of random chance lead to consecutive clues that either share a subject matter or have syntax that goes well in combination.

Ad Policy

Hidden Meanings

Joshua Kosman and Henri Picciotto on April 11, 2013 - 2:42 PM ET

You may recall that there are “British rules” and “American rules” for cryptic crosswords, which we discussed in a previous post. This is the first in a series of posts in which we will get more specific, using quotations from Peter Biddlecombe, the cryptic crossword editor at The Sunday Times (in London). The quotes are from his series on cryptic clues, which you can find on his clueing contest page. (Scroll to the bottom for the links.)

In a definition and wordplay clue, there may be more than one wordplay or definition. Putting a definition between two alternative wordplays is one way of breaking the apparent rule that “the definition must be at the beginning or end of the clue.” This happens in the vast majority of clues, and all the clues in many puzzles, but it is not always true.

What's So Great About Two?

Joshua Kosman and Henri Picciotto on April 4, 2013 - 3:51 PM ET

One of the best-known and wittiest precepts about cryptic crosswords was the British constructor Ximenes’s description of a cryptic clue as containing three things: (1) a definition, (2) wordplay and (3) nothing else. (See “Fair and Square.”)

Yet in practice, the wide and eclectic world of cryptic crosswording admits of other possibilities. Some British constructors allow for clues that consist only of straight definitions, if they’re done in a punny or unorthodox way. They call these “cryptic definitions.” Here are some examples taken from Don Manley’s Chambers Crossword Manual:
CANDLE A wicked thing (6)

Roasting Chestnuts

Joshua Kosman and Henri Picciotto on March 28, 2013 - 1:05 PM ET

Every once in a while, as we’re filling a puzzle grid or writing clues, one of us will put in an entry that makes the other one look askance. “Well, that’s kind of a chestnut,” he’ll say about a particular piece of wordplay.

And it’s true: For all the incalculable wealth and versatility of the English language, it’s just not possible to make every piece of wordplay be something brand-new and original. Certain puns, certain anagrams and certain pieces of word manipulation tend to call out to the constructor and beg for inclusion. And when they do, we generally pay heed to their cries.

Note that we’re not talking here about clichés—the overused, tired clueing strategies that get recycled from one puzzle to the next because they fit the needs of a constructor. Rather, what we’re talking about are pieces of enjoyable or clever wordplay that are no longer fresh discoveries.

Turnabout Is Fair Play

Joshua Kosman and Henri Picciotto on March 21, 2013 - 1:55 PM ET

One basic type of cryptic clue is the reversal, which relies on the fact that some words turn into other words when spelled backwards. In down clues, a reversal is typically indicated with a reference to the fact that the diagram entry is to be read upwards for the sake of the wordplay.

An example is DESSERTS and STRESSED. We have yet to put one (or both!) of these words in a diagram, but it is practically inevitable that they will show up sooner or later since they are composed of very common letters. In fact, they are letters that are so often at the end of words that it would be convenient to place them at the far right or the very bottom of the diagram. Watch for it!

DESSERTS/STRESSED is a classic whole-word reversal, and there are many others—though they are usually made of shorter words. Here are some example clues from our first year at The Nation.

A New Frontier in Artificial Intelligence

Joshua Kosman and Henri Picciotto on March 14, 2013 - 11:49 AM ET

Do you have an interest in cryptic crosswords and a facility with the more intricate realms of computerized artificial intelligence? If so, there’s a project out there with your name on it.

One of the more fascinating recent developments in the word of cruciverbalism has been the birth of Dr. Fill, the wittily named—and frighteningly proficient—crossword-solving program developed by puzzle constructor and software engineer Matt Ginsberg. Operating on brute speed to compensate for his lack of common sense, Dr. Fill has penetrated the lower ranks of good solvers. He (it’s hard to avoid following Ginsberg’s example by personifying the good doctor) is not yet in the upper echelons of solvers yet—but don’t look back, because he’s gaining on us.

Dr. Fill made his debut a year ago at the American Crossword Puzzle Tournament in Brooklyn, solving the puzzles alongside a field of nearly 600 contestants and finishing in 141st place. Last weekend he returned, and improved his standing to ninety-second. (In the human division, meanwhile, solving wizard Dan Feyer sailed to a fourth consecutive victory.)

'E-book'? That's a Word?

Joshua Kosman and Henri Picciotto on March 6, 2013 - 9:35 PM ET

For decades, crossword solvers had to be content with the humble tools of paper and pencil (or pen, for the more confident). But in recent years, crossword puzzles, like so many other cultural artifacts, have been migrating slowly and unmistakably to more high-tech platforms.

A number of programs for desktop and laptop computers have been around for several years, growing steadily in popularity. And more recently still, crosswords have begun making their way into mobile devices.

We know this because our first twenty Nation puzzles are now available in an e-book from Puzzazz, titled Out of Left Field: Cryptic Crosswords from The Nation. The free app for solving these is available for iPhone and iPad, and an Android version is coming, we hear. Sequels should appear every six months, so if you like to solve cryptic crosswords on a screen, this is for you.

Crowds and Power

Joshua Kosman and Henri Picciotto on February 21, 2013 - 3:25 PM ET

Earlier this month, one of the country’s finest puzzle constructors wrote these poignant words on the Internet: “Unfortunately there are hardly any venues in America that accept cryptic puzzles for publication, so I rarely have any reason to make them.”

The writer was Patrick Berry, whose creations range from innovative and beautiful new puzzle types (Rows Garden, Some Assembly Required, Snake Charmer and more) to traditional crosswords of unparalleled virtuosity. His work has appeared in The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, Games and The Chronicle of Higher Education.

Yet as Berry rightly laments, his opportunities to publish cryptic crosswords are few and far between. There are only a handful of outlets that regularly run cryptics—among them The Nation, Harper’s, The Wall Street Journal and Games—and each of them tends to be the province of a particular constructor. The result is that solvers are deprived of the fruit of his efforts in this field.