Heroines on Heroin

Once upon a time cough medicines all contained morphine, and because morphine is a trifle addictive this was a problem. People were too worried to cure their coughs. They thought that it was better to hack a little than to become a junkie.

So a German pharmaceutical company called Bayer decided to develop an alternative. They got out their primitive test tubes and rude retorts, and worked out a new chemical: diacetylmorphine, which they marketed as a "non-addictive morphine substitute". Like all new products it needed a name. Diacetylmorphine was all right if you were a scientist, but it wasn't going to work at the counter. They needed a name that would sell, a name that would make people say: "Yes! I want to buy that product!"

So the marketing chaps decided to call it Heroin, because apparently it made you feel heroic. And guess what? It did sell.

Heroin remained a Bayer trademark until the First World War; but the "non-addictive" part turned out to be a trifle misguided.

And that's why heroines are connected to heroin. Incidentally, the adjective for a heroine is heroinal (as distinct from the unisex heroic). Heroinal, though, has been used only once, in 1652, by Sir Thomas Urqhart who wrote the words:

Her mellifluent and heroinal breast...


Oh, and if you are ever offered "heroic measures" in hospital, it does not mean that you're going to have a tall, dashing doctor. It means that they're going to give you dangerous doses because you're probably going to die anyway.

The Inky Fool's accommodation arrangements are coming along fine

Estate agent's dictionary

Charming post with original features; ideal for first-time readers

My first job was as a Saturday assistant in an estate agency, where I spent fruitless hours trying to persuade the manager to correct his offences against grammar, spelling and common sense.

What I didn't realise at the time was that estate agents live in an alternative reality of "ideally located split-level maisonettes" and "spaciously arranged family bathrooms", and that any attempt to impose everyday language and style was ultimately doomed to failure.

For anyone else grappling with the inanities of property marketing, I have begun to compile an estate agent's dictionary...please let me know if you have any suggestions.

• Arguably – A useful weasel word which can be used to preface any high-flown but un-provable assertion. As in “arguably one of the most attractive roads in Hampstead”, “arguably the best 2 bed penthouses in Sheffield”, or this wonderfully prolix example: “Arguably the finest example of an idyllic 16th century grand hall in an elevated riverside setting - in Ribble Valley”.
• Arranged over – (As in “arranged over the second floor”). On – could also mean that it takes up the whole second floor as opposed to just being carved out of a section of it.
• Benefits from – Has. Often applies to something which is not, strictly speaking, a benefit – e.g. “benefits from an open-plan kitchen” – who wants a kitchen in their sitting room?
• Boasts – Has.
• Character – (As in “brimming with character”) Not bland and beige, but may not be to everyone’s taste. May also suggest an impractical layout or other inconveniences. “Quirky” or “unusual” are similar terms.
• Charming – Like “super”, “funky” and other vague terms of approbation, pretty much meaningless. A study by Freakonomics author Steven D. Levitt found that words like “charming”, which don’t refer to anything specific about the property, were associated with a lower sale price.
• Close to/ within walking distance of/ within easy reach of – Vague. Could mean anything up to a fifteen-minute walk. But could also mean "right on top of" (in the way that "convenient for train station" often means "facing the railway tracks").
• Compact/Bijou - Very small.
• Dining hall - In the absence of a proper dining room, this phrase is used to describe a hallway which is big enough to squeeze in a dining table.
• Duplex/split-level – Officially means a flat across two or more floors; but many estate agents will describe a flat as split level even if it just has a “mezzanine” loo halfway up the stairs, or an entrance hall on a separate level to the main flat.
• Family bathroom - Bathroom which is not en suite. Doesn't have anything to do with size (as in a "family-sized pack" of something in the supermarket).
• Feature fireplace - Fireplace.
• Ideally located in – Located in.
• Ideal for first-time buyers or rental investors – Cheap but unattractive; if you could afford anything better, you wouldn’t want to live there yourself.
• Neat, tidy - Small. Nothing to do with actual neatness, since - unless it was being sold complete with the previous owner's clutter  - why would it matter?
• Offers the opportunity to create your dream home - In need of a total overhaul.
• Pied a terre - Very small.
• Proportional accommodation – The flat is too small for the estate agent to get away with the word “spacious”, but the layout arguably makes sensible use of what space there is.
• Receiving hall - Square hallway, presumably big enough to greet visitors in.
• Sought-after – (As in “sought-after location”). Meaningless; can safely be used to describe any road, even the cheapest, ugliest or scariest in any particular area.
• Spacious – Usually meaningless. If a property or room is spacious, you can see this on the floorplan, or the estate agent will give measurements. For "deceptively spacious", see this post.
• Unofficial roof terrace - The roof of the extension to the floor below, which can only be accessed by climbing out of the window. May be decorated with pot plants and a sun lounger to make it look more like an official roof terrace.
• Up and coming - To be fair, this can mean an area which is in the process of gentrification (artists, young professionals, Starbucks, chichi bakeries and everything else that entails). But it can also mean an area which is still resolutely gritty, with no cupcakes or coffee chains in sight; all you can safely assume is that the area is not yet "established". (Thanks to Everet Lapel at the fabulous Foam and Skies for this update). 
• Within this large/imposing/grand building – The word “large” is being used to distract from the fact that the flat itself is not large at all.
• Yards from the amenities of a popular local supermarket – At the bottom of the Tesco car park (This comes from a local ad; I thought it was an impressive attempt at spin).

The direct approach

Mind games - the difference between "brain" and "mind"

There's a poster at my local railway station which never fails to catch my attention. It reads (in classic question and answer, feed and punchline style) :

"What went through the mind of the person who slipped on the platform?" "The floor."

While I admire the wordplay and admit that it is effective as a health and safety notice - the shift from a thought running through someone's head to a piece of concrete smashing into it is as jarring as it is supposed to be - there is something that doesn't quite work.

I think it is to do with the difference between "mind" and "brain". Because "mind" is seldom used in a physical, biological sense, the pun feels like something of a cheat - you simply wouldn't refer to the floor "going through someone's mind" unless you meant that they were thinking about it.

Brains are biological; minds are psychological. A neurosurgeon operates on the brain, not the mind; if someone described themselves as a "mind doctor" you would be more likely to assume they were a psychoanalyst, or even a hypnotist. The meaning of "brain" is somewhat broader - the phrase "to have something on the brain" more often refers to thoughts than to biological conditions - but, as a noun, "mind" almost never refers to the physical brain.

Would "brain", with its double meaning of the seat of thought and the physical organ, have been a better choice? I think so, although, because is is more closely associated with the latter sense than with the former, the shock in the shift of meaning would not have been so great. My choice would have been "head", which works equally well in both contexts.

The wordplay on "running through someone's mind" reminds me of another pun with a far less serious aim. Although I have never heard it used (I must be associating with the wrong people), the phrase "You must be tired, because you've been running through my mind all day" is apparently one of Europe's top ten chat-up lines.

A mind doctor

A deceptively simple topic

Today I read a review describing a film as "deceptively lightweight". What, I wondered, did this mean? Did the reviewer think the film seems deep on the surface (surely an oxymoron), but was essentially frivolous? Or did he mean that it is in fact serious, only appearing lightweight?

This is the problem with the word "deceptively" - nobody can agree what it means when used to modify an adjective in this way. The OED definition of "in a deceptive manner, so as to deceive" is not very helpful, while the American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language (cited here at FreeDictionary.com) notes that "when deceptively is used to modify an adjective, the meaning is often unclear" - when its Usage Panel was asked to decide what a "deceptively shallow pool" meant, 50 percent thought the pool shallower than it appears, 32 percent thought it deeper than it appears, and 18 percent said it was impossible to judge.

Deceptively simple

The potential for ambiguity does not seem to have stopped people using it, particularly in arts reviews, sports commentary and property advertising. With some common phrases, it is fairly easy to grasp the general meaning. When a book, film, piece of music or other work of art is described as "deceptively simple", this generally means that it appears simple in a way that deceives the reader/viewer/listener about its essential complexity or cleverness. When applied to a recipe, however, as in Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall's "deceptively simple" blue cheese gougères, "deceptively simple" seems to mean the opposite: something which looks impressive or complicated, but is really very easy to prepare. And The Independent's description of Muse's debut album as "deceptively sophisticated" - which one might imagine to mean the reverse of "deceptively simple" - in fact suggests very much the same thing: that the album's superficial simplicity disguises an underlying sophistication.

Other meanings are harder to pin down. The estate agent's favourite, "deceptively spacious" - does it mean a property which looks small from the street, or from photos, but is actually very large? Or does it - as Dogberry thinks - mean a property which is rather small, but gives the impression of being spacious through use of light and clever decorating? Either way, it means a property whose spaciousness is compromised in some way - not very desirable, but perhaps intriguing enough to persuade a buyer to set up a viewing.

Deceptively spacious

And some usages are simply baffling. What does The Times's description of a cricketer's bowling as "deceptively effective" mean? That it was more effective than it looked? Or that it was effective because of its deceptiveness? Similarly, I quite can't work out what the "deceptive" is referring to in The Independent's description of "deceptively well-crafted poems" or The Times's of "deceptively well-made" short films, although I suspect the meaning in both cases is something close to "deceptively simple". The most marvellously mysterious, though, was the reference in a Times music review to Deep Purple's "deceptively funky cymbals". It is clear from the context that this is a good thing, but beyond that the meaning is entirely lost on me.

It seems that the advantages of versatility and conciseness (it's quicker and neater to say "deceptively shallow" than "shallower than it appeared") overrule any concerns about confusing the reader. "Deceptively" also allows the writer to lay claim to a degree of perspicacity in discerning what is not immediately apparent; this may also be part of its appeal.

Deceptively funky

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