Word Salad | The Nation

[First, three links:
• The current puzzle
• Our puzzle-solving guidelines
• A Nation puzzle–solver’s blog where you can ask for and offer hints.]

It is not uncommon among cryptic crossword fans to compare and contrast “British rules” with “American rules” for cryptic crosswords. But this terminology misses the mark. The truth is that cryptic crossword construction is not chess, and plays by no rulebook. It’s more like music—constraints are essential, but not every composer needs to adhere to the same ones!

A better way to think about this is that cryptic crosswords have evolved differently on the two sides of the Atlantic, and that in the process, different conventions have come into play. Perhaps even more telling is the fact that the world of British crosswords boasts a degree of internal variety that is almost wholly lacking in the United States.

A few weeks of attempting to solve the cryptics in one of the British dailies are enough to reveal profound differences among the various constructors (“setters,” as they say over there), and to highlight the different constraints each of them chooses to follow. The result is that solvers can develop preferences for one or another constructor, not unlike the situation we have here in standard (non-cryptic) crosswords.

In the United States, by contrast, cryptic conventions are so narrowly interpreted that clueing for black-square cryptics does not differ much from constructor to the next; for the most you would be hard-pressed to try to guess a puzzle’s constructor from its clues. The way the best constructors more often distinguish themselves is by their creativity in the design of variety cryptics, with geometric innovations (different types of diagrams), interesting themes and puzzle-specific wordplay variations. And yes, there are brilliant clues in US cryptics, but differences in style are narrow.

One consequence of this lack of variety is that some of our relatively modest departures from convention have been received by some solvers as serious violations. But judged against any standards except the restricted scope of American cryptics, our innovations have been relatively few and not especially revolutionary.

In fact, some ideas which we thought were bold and daring are actually old hat in the UK. Alan Connor’s crossword blog at The Guardian is a mind-opener for American cryptic fans. Here is an example (from his post on May 8). He had asked readers to submit cryptic clues for SCREAMO (“a subgenre of hardcore punk,” according to Wikipedia.) Connor’s comment about one submission:

“Does Cream offer an example? Yes and no” was pleasingly devious.

In a past post, we went to great lengths to explain—or perhaps defend—our clue for HERACLES, which has a similar structure ("He clears stable? No and yes (8)"). Across the pond, this structure not only does not require defending or explaining, it’s merely seen as “pleasingly devious.” Oh, to get to the day when this sort of flexibility is commonplace here in the US! It’s time to put the “play” back in “wordplay.”

Do you solve cryptics outside of The Nation? Do you have any thoughts on style and convention? Please share here, along with any quibbles, questions, kudos or complaints about the current puzzle or any previous puzzle. To comment (and see other readers’ comments), please click on this post’s title and scroll to the bottom of the resulting screen.

[First, three links:
• The current puzzle
• Our puzzle-solving guidelines
• A Nation puzzle–solver’s blog where you can ask for and offer hints, and where every one of our clues is explained in detail.]

Every clue in a cryptic crossword has two parts—definition and wordplay—but that doesn’t mean they’re created equal. On the contrary, there’s a subtle but clear hierarchy between the two components of a clue, and it rears its head periodically to affect and constrain the possibilities of a clue’s structure.

The basic idea underlying any cryptic clue is that the solver’s goal is to arrive at the answer—and the answer is represented in the clue by the definition. The wordplay should be thought of as a tool that’s useful in reaching that goal. Solvers anagram letters or concatenate shorter words or say homophones out loud in order to arrive at the answer word—not vice versa.

This makes sense if you think about it: Aside from the undeniable pleasure that comes from grasping the workings of each clue (which we discussed in a blog post a couple of weeks ago), why anagram the letters of an answer, say, once you already know what it is? The logic connecting wordplay and definition flows in a specific direction, and a clue should reflect that—or at least, not violate it.

Note that this is more a philosophical point than a reflection of the actual solving process. In the real world, solvers often derive the answer to a clue from the definition, which can be the easiest way in if you have some information from the grid (a point we touched on here). But the underlying principle remains, which is that solving is in essence a search for the answer word.

Many, if not most, clues are neutral on this point. A clue, for example, may simply juxtapose the definition and wordplay in either order:
  NUTCASE  Sean cut crumbling fruitcake (7)
  DOPER  Perform for each druggie (5)

Or it may assert an equivalence between the two—and equivalence is symmetrical by its nature:
  ACRONYM  In the morning hours, friend is AWOL, for instance (7)
  GINSENG  Tea is liquor’s twin (7)

But the tricky part comes when the two parts of a clue imply a sense of direction, or logical priority. We make a practice of rejecting or revising clues that point in the wrong direction—that suggest, for instance, that the answer would yield the wordplay, or that the wordplay would be derived from the answer.

The most common flags for such clues include the connectors “for” (implying “perform the processes of the wordplay for the answer” and “from” (as in “derive the answer from the wordplay”). Here are some clues that could not have been done in reverse order.
  TOURIST  Trout is stewed for visitor (7)
  CUPID  Athletic supporter with label for naked boy (5)
  ARTISTS  Musicians, perhaps from Dire Straits (7)
  INFLOW  Revenue from news, mostly meager (6)

As with most things, we regard this as more of a guideline than an ironclad law—something we generally observe unless there’s a really good reason to violate it (or we forget). But it does help to add consistency and structure to the clue-writing process.

Please share your thoughts here, along with any quibbles, questions, kudos or complaints about the current puzzle or any previous puzzle. To comment (and see other readers’ comments), please click on this post’s title and scroll to the bottom of the resulting screen.

[First, three links:
• The current puzzle
• Our puzzle-solving guidelines
• A Nation puzzle solver’s blog where you can ask for and offer hints, and where every one of our clues is explained in detail.]

One might suppose that a puzzle is complete when every box contains a letter, and very often that is so. Yet two solvers—one in personal conversation and another in a letter to The Nation—recently mentioned a fondness for the final stage in solving a cryptic crossword. This comes when the grid is completely filled, and you go back over it in an attempt to fully understand how each clue works.

At first glance, and certainly to non-solvers, this sort of post-solving phase might seem nonsensical. How is it possible, after all, to fill in a puzzle grid without having cracked all of the clues? But the solution to the paradox is inherent in the nature of cryptic clueing.

A cryptic clue, remember, has two mutually reinforcing parts, the definition and the wordplay—and the grid, with its crossing letters, adds a third source of information (and confirmation). So it’s not at all uncommon for a solver to derive an answer from the combination of a clue’s definition and the letters in the grid, without understanding exactly how the wordplay supports the answer. Occasionally there is also the reverse situation, in which an obscure answer is supported by transparent wordplay, but that is easily resolved with a quick trip to the dictionary or the Internet.

Usually, that perplexity lasts only a moment. But sometimes, especially in the case of deceptive or complex multi-part clues, it can last a lot longer. In the National Puzzlers’ League, this phenomenon has acquired the slangy acronym IGIBIDGI (sometimes pronounced “idgy-bidgy”), which stands for “I got it but I don’t get it”—in other words, “I know this must be the solution, but I can’t figure out why.”

Interestingly, solvers seem to have divergent reactions to the mysteries that can linger after the first steps of the solving process are complete. Some regard it as an esthetic shortcoming on the constructors’ part, believing that solving a puzzle and understanding that solution should be a single unified process. (In fact, we heard from one solver who felt that including an explanation of the wordplay alongside the answer was an admission on our part that our puzzle was substandard; we respectfully disagree.)For other solvers, putting the final touches on a completed puzzle is a special pleasure, like the dessert after a good meal.

There’s no right or wrong on this one, of course—it’s a matter of taste. What are your feelings about the post-solving wrap-up? Please share them here, along with quibbles, questions, kudos or complaints about the current puzzle or any previous puzzle. To comment (and see other readers’ comments), please click on this post’s title and scroll to the bottom of the resulting screen.

[First, three links:
• The current puzzle
• Our puzzle-solving guidelines
• A Nation-puzzle solver’s blog where you can ask for and offer hints, and where every one of our clues is explained in detail.]

Ask a wordplay aficionado about the “Big Four” and it's possible they’ll know just what you’re talking about: J, Q, X, and Z, the four least commonly used letters in the English alphabet (or to put it another way, the four highest-scoring letters in Scrabble). These are the letters that lend spice and flavor to a crossword grid, keeping it from devolving into a blandly undistinguished mess of E’s and N’s and T’s and S’s.

But the culinary metaphor is a good one, because like spices the Big Four need to be used sparingly for maximum effect. Put too many of them in a grid and the result can be overbearing. The goal, ideally, is to sprinkle just enough unusual letters through a grid so that the solver is pleased by the overall effect without quite being aware why.

As in so many areas of life, the key is moderation, and this is even more true in cryptic crosswords than in standard crosswords, for a couple of reasons. For one thing, a cryptic crossword grid contains fewer letters—about 160, give or take, compared to as many as 190 in a standard crossword of the same dimensions—so distinctive letters stand out more piquantly.

But the more pressing difference is that a cryptic clue is much more sensitive than a standard clue to the particular letters in the word being clued. When it comes to Central American currency, for instance, the Guatemalan quetzal is no harder to clue in a standard crossword than a Nicaraguan peso (it’s much harder to get into the grid in the first place, but that’s another story).

Writing a cryptic clue for QUETZAL, on the other hand, is a headache. The big four letters resist all the usual cryptic techniques—they don’t play well with others in anagrams, they’re hard to disguise, they lend themselves to few obvious abbreviations, and so on.

So we’ve learned to keep them to a minimum. In fact, a look through our records shows that we’ve never yet included a word with more than one of the Big Four: no EQUINOX, no JACUZZI, no QUARTZITE. But here are a few entries we have used that would earn a high score in Scrabble:

AQUA VITAE  Liquor with a drop of absinthe, as six eat up (4,5)
BANJOIST  Prohibit support for Pete Seeger, e.g. (8)
EXPLOSIVE  Volatile former pâtissier originally chopped olives (9)
LAZYBONES  Idler is confused by zeal, son (9)
QUARTET  Tauter “Dancing Queen” is foremost for ABBA, e.g. (7)
WOZNIAK  Tech pioneer: “I know A-Z, but in a different order” (7)

Are there words or clues including the Big Four that you particularly like or dislike? Please share here, along with any quibbles, questions, kudos or complaints about the current puzzle or any previous puzzle. To comment (and see other readers’ comments,) please click on this post’s title and scroll to the bottom of the resulting screen.