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NOLA Story Demonstrates that Nothing is Ineluctable

By Roy Clark

The word "ineluctable," meaning "not to be avoided or escaped; inevitable," appears on page 896 of the American Heritage Dictionary (AHD) along with 55 other words, most of them adjectives. The adjective, we should all have learned in grammar school, adds to the meaning of a noun, a job that could be fulfilled by each of these words:  ineffable, ineffectual, inefficient, inelastic, inelegant, ineligible, ineloquent, inert, inessential, inevitable, inexact, inexcusable, inexorable, inexpedient, inexpensive, inexpert, inexpressive, and my new all-time favorite: inexpugnable, meaning "impossible to overthrow by force."

The AHD also reveals that the word "adjective" comes from two Latin words, one meaning to "add," the other "to throw at." In other words, a writer throws a word at a noun to add to its meaning. I find it fascinating that none of the words on page 896 describes a noun the way "red" modifies "barn" or "skinny" describes "cheerleader." These adjectives are abstractions in disguise, words that can be turned into nouns by the addition of a common suffix or two, so that they become "inertia" or "inelegance" or "inevitability" or "inexactness."

Its fair to say that in the pecking order of parts of speech, adjectives are down there with adverbs, bowing to the power of nouns and verbs. Then there are those special moments when... Well let me reveal it in a story.

The title is "The End of the Road," written by Ron Thibodeaux, about Marine Staff Sergeant Travis Twiggs, a man "at war with himself." Haunted by the deaths of two comrades in Iraq, Twiggs descends into a depression so dark it leads him and his brother Willard on a long cross-country journey that ends in a murder/suicide.

Willard's death was a sad end for a young man with a promising future, once a boy so bright and lively that he won a spelling bee: "As New Orleans' first-ever contestant in the National Spelling Bee, Willard became a local celebrity. He won the metropolitan spelling bee in April 1981, besting other middle-school spellers from New Orleans and suburban parishes, and earned an expense-paid trip to the national event."

When I read this anecdote, a single question popped into my mind: What was the winning word? When I learn someone has won a spelling bee, I always want to know the winning word. (In the third grade I won a spelling medal with "mirror.") So I was delighted when the author delivered: "The winning word that punched his ticket to Washington was 'ineluctable,' which means not to be avoided, changed or resisted."

The author takes that detail, that adjective, and turns it immediately into a theme: "As in, Willard's devotion to his brothers was ineluctable." A nice touch, but seemingly nothing more -- until the dramatic conclusion during which a police chase ends with the deaths of the Twiggs brothers:

"Ten days after their deaths, the brothers who shared so much throughout their lives had a joint funeral in Metairie. Travis was buried with full military honors. The spray of flowers on Will's coffin was draped with a banner that said 'Ineluctable.' "

So the winning word in the spelling bee anecdote, turned into a theme for the story, and became its final detail, the last word.

Although it would be defined in the AHD as an adjective, in its first appearance in the story, the word "ineluctable" serves as a noun, the winning word in a spelling bee. It then returns as a predicate adjective to modify one brother's devotion to another. Finally, in a dramatic reappearance at the end it seems to serve both functions -- noun: a word on a spray of flowers; adjective: a word that describes the inevitability of the brothers' fate.

This little case reveals the flexibility and versatility of our language, the complex and wonderful ways in which words cross-dress as alternative parts of speech. This theme is one highlight of Ben Yagoda's fine book on the parts of speech, "When you Catch an Adjective Kill It." Ben describes the temptation to name the book "Pimp My Ride," after a cool television show where nasty old cars are transformed into sporty works of art:

"Leaving aside the fact that it would have lent a faint aura of hipness to a book otherwise sorely lacking in street cred, 'Pimp My Ride' illustrates a deep and wonderful truth about the parts of speech: they change like the dickens. Pimp -- a noun meaning a procurer of prostitutes -- turns into a transitive verb, meaning, roughly, 'to make pimp-worthy.' And the intransitive word 'ride' becomes a noun, meaning 'that in which one rides.' " Look at how Ben turns the noun "street" into an adjective attached to "cred." And how "pimp" plays the role of adjective when attached to "worthy."

What a great language.

Full post as published by Writing Tools on September 23, 2008 (boomark / email).