Wrold (for World)

Recently a colleague asked if anyone knew a word that means "feeling the world's pain," adding that her dining companion the night before had issued this request along with "that challenge we in the business have all heard: 'You're a librarian...'" The word she was looking for was Weltschmerz, which literally means "world pain." I had forgotten the word itself, but remembered the irony that infused it during the 2006 National Spelling Bee, where an otherwise excellent Canadian contestant unaccountably blew this one, and in a rather weird way: The only letter she got wrong was the first one, making it a V instead of a W. This was strange because, for one thing, German contains a scant dozen or so words that start with V, and, for another, because her father was a native German speaker. I think more than a few viewers got a whiff of Weltschmerz that evening. Wrold (for world) appears eight times in OhioLINK.

(Female nude with globe by Charles Gilhousen, 1919, from Wikimedia Commons.)

Carol Reid

Borwn* (for Brown*)

In the 1969 television special A Boy Named Charlie Brown, our hapless but eponymous hero finds himself a contestant in the annual national spelling bee. With the "Peanuts" gang wildly cheering him on, he makes it to the final round, where he promptly chokes on the relatively simple beagle, which he spells B-E-A-G-E-L. (The bee, by the way, began with the word supersede, a notorious toughie.) Cartoonist Charles Schulz was considered a contemporary philosopher by many of his fans and here he shows a rather profound understanding of the almost mystical ironies that seem to imbue spelling bees. I'm not sure what it is, exactly, but it's as if there's a guiding hand behind so many of these spectacular fin-de-bee flameouts. For instance, there was the Indian kid who couldn't spell Darjeeling (even while hundreds of his dad's friends were chanting for him to win, and probably quaffing the stuff to boot). Then there was the Canadian girl with the German-speaking father who for some strange reason spelt weltschmerz with a V—although she managed to get the rest of it perfect. And then there was the the guy who misspelled the word misspell. (I've made my own blushing blunders as well and, believe me, it's not as funny as it sounds.) However, as Linus tells his good friend, who had taken to his bed with an acute case of, well, weltschmerz (i.e., mental depression or apathy caused by comparison of the actual state of the world with an ideal state): "But did you notice something, Charlie Brown? The world didn't come to an end." A recent question put to the listserv concerned the difference between typos and misspellings. I suppose there is somewhat less shame attaching to the former than the latter, but mistakes are mistakes. Who knows why they get made sometimes? And yet the world doesn't come to an end. In honor of Charlie Brown and his born-again faith in getting it right, our typo for today is Borwn* (for Brown*) and was found seven times in the OhioLINK database.

(Charles Schulz, 1956, Library of Congress, New York World-Telegram & Sun Collection, from Wikimedia Commons.)

Carol Reid

Mozarella, etc. (for Mozzarella)

M ... O ... Z ... OMG! Like this young competitor in the Scripps National Spelling Bee this week, I too spelled mozzarella wrong, in my own very first bee a few years ago at a local bar. And I still can't believe it. It's a word that almost everybody knows, and a food that almost everybody (in this country, anyway) has eaten. And none of the potential ways of misspelling it (one Z, two R's, one L, even an E instead of an A) look remotely correct. And yet... And yet... It happens. And a lot more often than one might think. I'm sure the girl who flamed out on this word yesterday is still burning with shame, like having a too-hot piece of pizza stuck to the roof of your mouth. And I'm certainly not here to poke fun or to pile on. On the contrary: I'd like to welcome her to the club. There just seems to be something about spelling under pressure that can cause an otherwise excellent speller to choke at bat, to whiff a slow ball, to basically hand your opponent the point on a silver platter. Take the Indian kid who couldn't spell Darjeeling, or the Canadian cutie who didn't seem to recognize the word confiserie (this one was like taking candy from a baby, although some of her fans have argued that the judge mispronounced it), or the other Canadian girl, with the German-speaking father, who nailed the word weltschmerz, except for the fact that she spelled it with a V! And then there are all those people who, when it really and oh-so-ironically counts, misspell the word misspell. I would love to be able to report that there were many examples of today's typo in both OhioLINK and WorldCat; however, it seems as if most people can spell this word just fine when they're not melting under the hot glare of the spotlight. But spelling beesters are a very special breed and they all have my utmost sympathy and respect. Mozarella was found only one time in OhioLINK and 24 times in WorldCat. All other probable variants were found there, at most, once or twice. Although you might want to check your own catalog anyway. You can never really tell when someone's gonna miss an easy layup.

(Mozzarella-filled gnocchi found in Amsterdam, 2008, from Wikimedia Commons. Extra credit if you can spell both mozzarella and gnocchi.)

Carol Reid

Sameul* (for Samuel*)

In the 2013 documentary Shepard & Dark, we learn that playwright Sam Shepard often revisits the darker side of father-son relationships in his work. Plays can be confessional and were I to be writing one myself right now, it would probably have to be about spelling. I have something to get off my chest. The night before watching this movie on Netflix, I took part in another local spelling bee. I knew virtually every word that was asked, too—every word, that is, except for the relatively simple one I so stupidly got wrong. Mind you, this was a word I have used in half a dozen blog entries (I checked!) and even blogged about itself back in 2006 (though the entry is no longer accessible in the archives). It was also blogged about again in 2009 by Leanne Olson. How was it possible, then, that instead of giving the correct answer (the first one, in fact, that had come to mind), I miserably and abruptly blurted out, "P-L-A-Y-W-R-I-T-E" for playwright? I mean, okay, granted, we've got playwriting, along with copyright and copywriter, to mix things up a bit. But still. It seems that this phoneme-non, if you will, is either a psychological disorder (akin to plunging self-esteem or paralyzing fear of success) or it's just a big old cosmic joke. And that, anyway, I'm not the only if, and, or butt of it. There was the Indian boy who flubbed Darjeeling; the girl from a German-speaking family who spelt Weltschmerz with a V; the Canadian fille who whiffed confiserie; the Asian kid who got disoriented by Oriental; Brick Heck, who "overthought" reindeer; Charlie Brown, who choked on a beagle; and all the permanently chagrined spelling bee contestants who ever misspelled the word misspell. The point, apparently, is for you to blow it in the most ironic or humiliating way possible. (The other night at the library, we all sat staring at a giant fake Scrabble board, trying to locate the single misspelled word. For the first time during this portion of the bee, nobody seemed to see it, although it was right in the middle of the board. That word? LIBARY.) Sam Shepard keeps on playwriting until he gets it right, and I guess I'll have to keep on spelling till I quit missing the easy layups. Or as a friend of mine so aptly put it: "snatching defeat from the jaws of victory." Since we've blogged about Shepard before, we'll be going with Sameul* today instead. We got 35 hits in OhioLINK, and 416 in WorldCat.

(Sam Shepard at age 21, from Wikimedia Commons.)

Carol Reid