How to Tell Fate from Destiny: And Other Skillful Word Distinctions

Copyright © 2018 by Charles Harrington Elster and Myrna Zambrano, Trustees of the Zambrano Elster Family Trust dated July 22, 2017

Illustrations copyright © 2018 by Chi Birmingham

All rights reserved.

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Cover illustration © Chi Birmingham

Cover design by Martha Kennedy

eISBN 978-1-328-58323-9

v2.0519

In memory of my parents,

Reinhardt Elster, Jr. (1914–2015) and Nancy Carr Elster (1920–2011),

with love and gratitude,

especially for teaching me all those words.

Introduction

Quick, answer these questions: What’s the difference between a compendium and an abridgment? How about the difference between an epidemic and a pandemic, a verdict and a ruling, a simile and a metaphor, or an emoticon and an emoji?

Can you distinguish the verbs to imitate and to emulate, the relative pronouns that and which, or the adjectives pliant, pliable, and supple? Do you know whether it should be hone in or home in, pled or pleaded, loath or loathe, recur or reoccur, rotate or revolve, or sanguine or sanguinary? And do you know whether you’re eating Welsh rabbit or Welsh rarebit?

If you don’t—or even if you kind of do—How to Tell Fate from Destiny and Other Skillful Word Distinctions will help you sort it out and make the right choice. (More reliably and entertainingly than Wikipedia!)

Think of this book as a combination of a thesaurus, chock-full of perspicuous and perspicacious synonym discriminations (like perspicuous and perspicacious), and a usage manual, replete with advice on how to differentiate commonly confused words and steer clear of verbal trouble.

Why do we need these fine distinctions? Because they clarify the mind and general discourse. Who decides how or how not to make these distinctions? We all do, whether or not we’re thoughtful about what we’re expressing, and whether or not we’re sure that we’re using whether or not correctly. But thoughtlessness is the norm that only breeds confusion, and I have written this book in the hope of dispelling some of that fog.

For example, if you peruse these pages you will find out whether you are actually perusing or just browsing them. You will find out whether you are done or finished, whether you are seedy or seamy, whether you are a sociopath or a psychopath, and whether you have Alzheimer’s or dementia. And you’ll learn all that before you have dinner or supper, and long before you wind up in limbo or purgatory. But before you surrender or capitulate to someone who may have no sympathy or empathy for you, ask yourself whether you have a definite opinion about it or a definitive opinion about it. Am I being too simple here, or too simplistic? Do you have a hypothesis or a theory about that?

Whether you’re a boomer, a Gen-Xer, or a millennial, if you peruse, browse, or even skim these spindrift pages you will (not shall) become versed in the fine art of differentiation. You will learn, for example,

how to tell whether you’re a who or a that

how to tell whether you suffer from pride, vanity, or hubris

how to tell whether you’re contagious or infectious

how to tell if you’re pitiful or pitiable

how to tell if you’re astonished or surprised

how to tell if you’re self-centered or self-absorbed

and how to live an ethical life in a moral universe.

I hope the painstaking distinctions in these pages will energize, not enervate you, and that you won’t forgo (or forego?) this fortunate (or fortuitous?) opportunity to become not only more skillful in your choice of words but perhaps also a professional distinctioneer.

—Charles Harrington Elster

San Diego, California, October 2017

A

a, an

The general rule is simple: Use a before words that begin with a consonant or consonant sound (including y and w): a bird, a lesson, a yolk, a word. Use an before a vowel or vowel sound: an egg, an idea, an orange. But in his excellent guide, Right, Wrong, and Risky, Mark Davidson reminds us that it’s the sound more than the initial following letter that matters: Whether the first letter of the word being introduced is a vowel or consonant is not decisive; what matters is the sound.

Thus, it’s a uniform, a U.S. passport, and a yodel, because those words begin with the consonantal y sound. By contrast, it’s an NBC show, an IRA, an SUV, and an RBI because all those initialisms begin with vowel sounds: NBC begins with en; IRA begins with the long I sound of eye; SUV begins with ess; and RBI begins with ahr.

And if you’re unsure whether to use a or an before certain words beginning with h, remember this: If the h is sounded, use a. If it is silent, use an. For example, use a before humble, hilarious, hysterical, habitual, heroic, hallucination, hereditary, huge, hotel, and homage (so spelled, and properly pronounced HAH-mij), as well as before history, historic, historical, and historian. Use an before honor, hour, heir, and herb, where the h is silent. (The British often sound the h in herb, so it’s okay for them to say a herb.)

Some writers and speakers are tempted to use an before historian, historic, and historical because the first syllable is unstressed and the h is sometimes not distinctly pronounced. But unless you speak the Cockney dialect the h is far from silent, so, despite what you may hear from educated people and sometimes read in edited writing, a should properly precede historian, historic, and historical.

Modern authorities on usage and pronunciation overwhelmingly favor this "rule of h." It’s sensible and speech-friendly, it’s based on well over a century of good usage, and if you follow it, no one can ever accuse you of affectation.

ability, capability

The difference between these words is the difference between performance and potential, between doing something and doing something more.

If you have ability, you can perform an action or display a talent: "His ability to speak was compromised after his stroke; She has astonishing mathematical ability." If you have capability, it is within your power to do some specific and often challenging thing: "North Korea may soon have the capability to launch intercontinental missiles that can reach the United States; She has the capability to swim the English Channel."

You may have the ability to learn but not possess the capability to turn your knowledge into success.

abridgment, compendium

If you’re in a hurry, just remember that an abridgment is a shorter version of a larger work while a compendium is a summary or condensation of a larger work or of some area of knowledge.

However, since about the mid-20th century people have also been using compendium to mean a complete list of something or a collection, compilation, as in an annual compendium of the UK’s best food destinations or a two-hour-long compendium of 26 short films. This twist of meaning has sparked concern and objection among authorities on usage. Perhaps the error stems from the idea that a compendium is, at best, a fairly comprehensive abridgment, says Garner’s Modern English Usage. "But properly speaking, the emphasis falls on the abridgment, not on comprehensive."

A compendium may consist of previously published material or be a condensed summary of any broad subject, while an abridgment is always a shorter version of a longer piece of writing, especially one that retains the essential contents and spirit of the larger original.

abstruse, esoteric, occult, cryptic, enigmatic, arcane, recondite, acroamatic

All these words apply to things that are secret, mysterious, or difficult to understand.

By derivation, abstruse means put or pushed away, and today the word connotes that which has been pushed out of the realm of comprehension and is therefore hard to understand. Scholars and scientists are fond of using abstruse academic jargon to discuss abstruse subjects and ideas.

By derivation, esoteric means understood by a select group, intended only for or known only by a few; hence, secret, confidential, or beyond most people’s knowledge: the esoteric language of computer programming. (Compare esoteric, exoteric.)

Occult by derivation means hidden or concealed. Today occult may be used either of that which is secret because it is hidden from view or that which is secret because it is mysterious or incomprehensible, beyond the range of ordinary knowledge. The phrase the occult refers to magic or the supernatural.

The adjective cryptic comes from the Greek kryptos, meaning hidden, the source also of crypt, a burial chamber hidden underground. In modern usage cryptic applies to that which has a hidden meaning: cryptic ideas are mystifying ideas; a cryptic message is an incomprehensible or coded message.

The noun enigma and the adjective enigmatic come from a Greek verb meaning to speak in riddles. An enigma is something or someone like a riddle, mystery, or puzzle; the adjective enigmatic means like an enigma, and therefore perplexing, puzzling, ambiguous, or incomprehensible. Enigmatic is perhaps most often used of something written or stated, but the word may also apply to actions and to people.

Arcane comes from the Latin arcānus, meaning shut, closed, or secret. By derivation arcane means shut or closed up, and, like esoteric, arcane is now used of that which is known only to a few people. The word usually applies to knowledge or information, as an arcane theory.

Recondite (stress on rec-, rhymes with second kite) comes from the Latin recondere, to put away, conceal. In modern usage recondite applies to that which is beyond the grasp of the ordinary person. To most people, for example, particle physics is a recondite subject.

Acroamatic (AK-roh-uh-MAT-ik) is an abstruse and unusual synonym of esoteric—so unusual that you won’t find it listed in most dictionaries. Historically, acroamatic applies to certain writings by the ancient Greek philosopher Aristotle that were addressed to his disciples, as opposed to his exoteric writings, which were intended for a popular audience. In a general sense, acroamatic may refer to that which is esoteric, intended for and understood by a select group, recondite, beyond the grasp of the average person, and abstruse, extremely hard to understand.

accede, acquiesce, assent, concur

These verbs all suggest agreement in various ways.

To accede is to yield, give in. The word implies agreement in which one person or party gives in to persuasion or yields under pressure: to accede to the proposal; refusing to accede to the company’s demands. Accede may also be used to mean to attain or assume an office or title, as to accede to the throne.

Acquiesce implies agreement or giving in despite tacit reservations. When you acquiesce you agree without protest or complaint but also without interest or excitement. You may be unwilling to agree but you lack the will or the energy to resist.

Assent implies agreement reached after careful consideration or deliberation. When you assent to a plan, you agree to it after discussion or careful thought.

Concur implies agreement reached independently. When you concur with a statement, you agree on your own without pressure from the person or source that made it.

accept, except

To accept is a verb meaning, among other things, to take or receive willingly (accept a gift), to agree or consent to (accept an offer), or to admit formally (accepted into college). Except is usually a preposition meaning with the exclusion of, excluding (invited everyone except me). Because these words are pronounced almost alike, they are sometimes confused in writing.

acquit, exonerate, vindicate

These words all mean to free from blame. Acquit refers specifically to a judicial decision to release someone from a charge. Exonerate implies removing the burden of guilt for a wrongdoing that may or may not have been committed. Vindicate is to clear from blame, criticism, or suspicion of guilt by bringing forth evidence and proving the unfairness of the charge. Someone may be acquitted by a jury and exonerated by family and friends, but never vindicated in the eyes of the community.

acronym, initialism

These capitalized abbreviations are distinguished by their pronunciation. If you pronounce it as a word, it’s an acronym: AIDS, PIN, NASA, SARS, NAFTA, OSHA, DARE, ZIP (code). If you pronounce the letters, it’s an initialism: CD, FYI, LOL, SUV, DOA, HIV, UFO.

Take note that many lists of acronyms on the internet incorrectly include initialisms, which are more common than acronyms. Also, some acronyms have been assimilated as normal words and are not capitalized: for example, radar, from ra(dio) d(etecting) a(nd) r(anging). Sometimes we can’t decide if something is an acronym or initialism. For example, most people call the SAT, the college-entrance exam, an S-A-T, but some say it like sat. And sometimes there is crossover, as with ASAP, which may be an initialism if you pronounce the letters individually or an acronym if you pronounce it letter A plus SAP.

adjacent, adjoining

Adjacent means next to or very close by something else. Adjoining means touching or connected to something else. Adjoining properties touch each other; they are connected, and separated, by a boundary or property line. Adjacent properties may adjoin, but they may also be very close or nearby. So if you say that that your house is adjacent to a police station or a schoolyard, that can mean your house is next to or nearby the police station or across the street from the schoolyard; and if you say that you’re staying in adjacent hotel rooms that can mean you’re staying either in side-by-side rooms or nearby ones, such as across the hall. But if you say that your houses or hotel rooms are adjoining, that means they are connected and have some sort of direct access between them.

admission, admittance

Admittance refers strictly to physical entry, admission to acceptance into a group or institution or to a fee paid to enter. If the intended meaning is that no one may come in, the sign should read No admittance. If the intended meaning is that no money will be charged for entrance, the sign should read No admission or Free admission.

Use admission for any figurative entry, such as membership: his admission to college; her admission to the bar; the country’s admission to the European Union. It is a common error to use admittance in this figurative sense: "His admittance [admission] to CU, however, was delayed after he completed course work at Independence Community College in Kansas" (Rocky Mountain Independent). Use admittance only for physical entry that does not involve membership or special standing. Thus: "Admittance to the pool requires admission to the club."

ado, adieu

The expression is without further ado, not without further adieu. Ado is busy or troublesome activity, fuss, commotion, as in much ado about nothing. Adieu is a Frenchified way of saying good-bye. Ado is pronounced uh-DOO, and adieu is pronounced uh-DYOO or uh-DOO.

adopted, adoptive

When referring to children who are adopted by adults, the preferred adjectival forms in modern usage are adopted child (or son or daughter) and adoptive parent (or mother or father). In extended senses, adopted is preferred: her adopted country; the adopted charter amendment.

advantageous, adventitious

These words look and sound similar but are unrelated. That which is advantageous gives you an advantage or a favorable opportunity: "Two moves later she had an advantageous position on the chess board from which she could take his king." Adventitious, which comes from a Latin word meaning coming from without, external, means happening by chance or because of some external or incidental factor. We speak of adventitious blindness, caused by an injury or occurring at birth, or adventitious experiences, which, as Henry Miller wrote in Tropic of Capricorn, were always thrust on me, always endured rather than undertaken.

adverse, averse

Adverse and averse, which differ in spelling by one letter, are both words of opposition. Averse means opposed because of a strong feeling of dislike or repugnance; unwilling, disinclined (averse to eating meat). Adverse may mean opposed in a contrary or hostile manner (adverse criticism), opposed to one’s interests (an adverse outcome), unfavorable (adverse weather), or causing harm (adverse effects, adverse reaction).

The similarity in spelling and the shared sense of opposition are no doubt why some writers use adverse when they mean averse: "Still, he wasn’t adverse [averse] to taking chances" (New York Times). It may help to remember that averse is invariably followed by the preposition to, while adverse is usually followed by a noun.

adviser, advisor

The Oxford English Dictionary shows that these two spellings have competed for several centuries, but that dictionary and others, along with numerous style guides, will tell you that adviser has always been the preferred spelling and is still the preferred and dominant spelling today. The popularity of advisor may be due to the preferred spelling of the adjective advisory and influenced by the many agent nouns used in law that end with the Latinate -or: e.g., vendor, juror, guarantor. You could use advisor out of respect for those who might prefer it—your financial or spiritual advisor, perhaps—but otherwise stick with adviser.

affect, effect

Because the words affect and effect are pronounced alike—with a schwa, or indistinct vowel, in the first, unstressed syllable—they are frequently confused in print. If you have trouble keeping these words straight, try to remember that affect is a verb meaning to influence while effect is usually a noun meaning a result. Memorize this sentence, keeping in mind that a comes before e: "If you affect something, there will be an effect."

The most common mistake is using effect to mean to influence: "It is too early to tell how the scandal will effect [affect] Huron as an ongoing business" (Chicago Tribune); "He says the papers must discuss how gay and heterosexual couples are effected [affected] by California’s ban" (San Jose Mercury News).

So to affect is to influence and an effect is a result. That’s simple enough. But things get trickier when effect is used as a verb meaning to bring about, accomplish, produce a specific result. This use of effect as a verb is correct: "But he is not seen as someone who will effect change" (New York Times). In this example, affect (to influence) is misused for effect (bring about): "[H]e expects San Diegans will have a chance to see ‘some of the polarization that this process has affected [effected]’" (San Diego Union-Tribune).

When something is effected, accomplished, brought about, people are affected, influenced, by it. One thing can affect (influence) another, and when it does there is an effect (result) that has been effected (brought about).

afterward, afterwards, afterword

Afterward is preferred in American English; afterwards is preferred in British English–influenced countries. The unrelated afterword denotes something written afterward, an epilogue. (See backward, backwards; forward, forwards; toward, towards.)

age, period, era, epoch

An age is usually a well-defined and sometimes considerable extent of time, specifically one associated with some prominent feature or influence or some dominant personality: the Stone Age; the Elizabethan age; the Age of Reason; the Gilded Age; the information age.

A period may be a long or a short amount of time that is meaningful either in a person’s life or in history, and that is often distinguished by a salient condition or characteristic: a period of drought; the Colonial period; Picasso’s blue period.

Era and epoch (EP-uhk) have often been used interchangeably of generally long amounts of time characterized by historically important events, changes, or developments. More specifically, an era is a time in history marked by a new or distinct order of things (Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary): the Precambrian era; the Christian era; the Renaissance era; an era of technological innovation. An epoch is a time in history known for remarkable characteristics or momentous events; the word sometimes refers especially to the beginning of an era (Random House Dictionary): Martin Luther’s Protestant epoch; an epoch of freedom and democracy; the epoch of the smartphone.

aggravate, irritate, annoy

A battle has raged for centuries—and I could go into details, but it wouldn’t be pretty—over whether aggravate can properly be used as a synonym of irritate or annoy or whether it should be confined to its traditional meaning to make something worse, exacerbate, as to aggravate a problem or to aggravate tensions. There is no question that aggravate has been and is used frequently by educated people in sentences like "Don’t aggravate me with all these questions or She’s so aggravating. But educated people also still use it in sentences like That drug is aggravating his condition or Carbon emissions aggravate global warming." Should we outlaw one sense and preserve the other, or should we live with both?

I think the former strategy is self-defeating, since aggravate is so firmly established in the sense of to irritate, annoy. So I’m going to go out on a limb, disagree with most of my colleagues in usage mavenry, and issue this Solomonic, live-and-let-live ruling: Use annoy, irritate, or aggravate as you see fit when you mean to bother, upset, vex, exasperate—keeping in mind that, if you care about nuances, annoy is the general term for being vexed or upset ("Your interruptions annoy me"), irritate implies somewhat more susceptibility to exasperation and somewhat more intensity of feeling ("Any interruption irritates me"), and aggravate suggests a prolonged or continual botheration that may become infuriating ("He was aggravated by yet another interruption").

Speaking from personal experience, the first time I called AT&T to complain about my phone bill I was annoyed. When that effort failed and I tried again, I became irritated. And by the fifth time I called and had to tell my tale of woe yet again, I was thoroughly aggravated.

Critics of aggravate meaning annoy, irritate should concede that using it in that sense never collides with using it traditionally to mean worsen. It’s hard to imagine anyone misunderstanding someone who said, Being unemployed really aggravates me, and it really aggravates my problems. That’s because when aggravate is used as a transitive verb we instinctively distinguish between what aggravates (annoys) a person and what aggravates (worsens) a condition. The thing to watch out for is the occasional ambiguous use of aggravating. In phrases such as a climate known for aggravating allergies or the president’s aggravating comments about North Korea’s nuclear threat, aggravating could be construed as meaning either annoying or making things worse.

aisle, isle

These homophones are occasionally confused. An aisle is a walkway between rows of seats, as in a theater or classroom. An isle is a small island.

Stranded in the produce Aisle.

Stranded on a desert Isle.

alienate, disaffect, estrange

These words all refer to disruption of a bond of love, friendship, or loyalty (American Heritage Dictionary).

Alienate always implies loss of affection or interest (Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary) and often calls attention to the cause of antagonism or separation (Random House Dictionary): "Robert continually alienated his dates by flirting with other women."

Disaffect usually refers to relationships involving allegiance or loyalty rather than love or affection (Random House), and often implies discontent, resentment, or rebellion. An imperious ruler can disaffect the people, make them discontented and no longer loyal.

To estrange often implies replacement of love or belonging by apathy or hostility (Random House). When you estrange someone you distance yourself, push that person away. Friends, lovers, and family members can sometimes become estranged, emotionally distant, unfriendly, or hostile.

all right, alright

The proper form is all right, not alright.

Despite the usage note in Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, which claims that the one-word form alright has its defenders and its users—as if that alone makes it legitimate—no usage expert with a reputation to lose would tell you it’s all right to write alright, and copyeditors routinely change the one-word form to two. Garner’s Modern English Usage says alright has never been accepted as standard, and it cannot yet be considered good usage—or even colloquially all right.

allude, elude

To allude is to touch on something indirectly or by suggestion, without specifically mentioning the source, often in a casual or offhand way: "He alluded to his family’s recent financial troubles." To elude is to slip away from, escape adroitly from (Oxford English Dictionary): "No one can elude the long arm of the law."

allusion, reference

Both words mean a calling to mind of something generally familiar, especially something literary or cultural. In an allusion the source is implied; it is not stated directly: That’s the rub is an allusion to Shakespeare’s Hamlet. ‘We have miles to go before we sleep,’ said John is an allusion to the poem Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost. In a reference the source is identified, mentioned specifically, often by direct quotation. As Mark Twain observed, ‘It is better to support schools than jails’ is a reference. (Compare refer, allude.)

altercation, fight

Fight

Altercation

The traditional meaning of altercation is a vehement or angry dispute; a noisy controversy (Oxford English Dictionary). An altercation is verbal while a fight is physical, Eric Partridge tells us in Usage and Abusage. In precise usage, an altercation may develop into a fight: "Witnesses reported the shooting was related to an altercation between the victim and a suspect earlier the same day" (Chicago Sun-Times).

Unfortunately, journalists—doubtless mimicking the poor usage of the police, who love inflated words—have used altercation so often of violent disputes that the word now invariably appears in place of fight: "Tila Tequila Hospitalized After Altercation [Fight] with NFL Player Boyfriend" (tvguide.com). In fact, altercation and fight are so hopelessly confused that some writers now use the redundancy verbal altercation when they mean that a dispute was limited to angry words: "Man shot after verbal altercation" (Bay City Daily Tribune).

Careful users of the language should avoid this loose usage and stick to this definition: verbal contention which may or may not be accompanied by blows (Webster’s New World College Dictionary). As Garner’s Modern English Usage observes, It’s wrong to say that someone is killed during an altercation. It’s also taking things too far to use altercation when the dispute involves lethal weapons or serious injury, as in this headline: "Montgomery Man Shot, Stabbed in Altercation" (Newsday).

So if it’s a fight, just call it a fight.

alternate, alternative

To the discriminating writer, the adjectives alternate and alternative are not interchangeable. There is a subtle difference between substitution and choice.

The adjective alternate refers to a secondary thing that substitutes or stands in for a primary thing, a replacement: "The Aztec City Commission appointed a new alternate municipal court judge on Aug. 25" (Farmington Daily Times, New Mexico). By contrast, the adjective alternative means available in place of another and refers to anything you might choose over something else: "An alternative idea was to temporarily widen the road while resurfacing work took place" (Guernsey Press and Star, U.K.).

An alternate route is a backup route, the one you take when you can’t take your regular route. An alternative route is a route you choose to take because there’s less traffic, it’s more scenic, or you’re bored with the usual route. An alternate plan is the plan you adopt when the original one fails. An alternative plan is an additional plan that you consider or that you choose because you don’t like the original plan.

Sometimes it’s hard to tell which word is properly called for because the context seems to imply both substitution and choice: "An alternate title for the book might be ‘Idiots’" (New York Times Book Review). Are we talking about a title that might stand in for the original (an alternate) or a title that might be as good as or better than the original (an alternative)? I vote for alternative because the writer is proposing a title she thinks might be an improvement over the original rather than a replacement for the one the author and publisher chose.

As you might imagine, alternate (substitution) is misused for alternative (choice) far more often than the other way around: "The Village at Wolf Creek developer is considering an alternate [alternative] plan" (Valley Courier, Colorado); "The film sets up Howard as being Mary’s alternate [alternative] love interest" (Seattle Post-Intelligencer).

On another note: It is often averred that although there may be many options there are only two alternatives because alternative can apply to only two choices. That claim is nonsense. Alternative may refer to only two choices or it may just as properly refer to more than two choices. Here is a ruling from one authority, among many I could cite: "The idea that alternative may apply to a choice between two and no more is a pedantry discountenanced by no fewer than nine authorities," says Roy H. Copperud in American