If you like words then you probably enjoy crosswords. In the mid 1980s I went to a Dublin hotel to compete in a Crosaire competition organised by this newspaper. I came away with an orange Irish Times pencil and a bruised ego. I think we had three hours in which to complete a jumbo cryptic puzzle, and after 34 minutes a chap from the Liberties had submitted the winning entry.
It was set by Derek Crozier, who composed Crosaire for 68 years, up to his death, in 2010. He said people used to want to wring his neck out of frustration with his clues. I’m sure the same can be said for his successor, the aptly named Crossheir.
I particularly like the Sunday Times crossword. It occupies me all week, and I sometimes finish it. Nothing provokes expletives from me quite like a sneaky clue. For example, "Willy's aware of latest trends in participation" (10).
The uninitiated have to understand that a cryptic clue does two things: it indicates the answer and it indicates parts of the word that make up the answer. Willy here is “member” (rather rude, I know); “latest trends” is “hip”, so it’s member’s hip – membership – which is the answer, the direct clue being “participation”.
There are numerous codes that you need to be aware of if you want to tackle the cryptic crossword. You need to know which word in the clue indicates that the answer is an anagram, you need to know how terms are abbreviated, you need a knowledge of Roman numerals, the Greek alphabet and the Bible, and you need a fair vocabulary.
Now try this one: “A court must measure fault? Nothing in it” (4,2,3). “A court” is the direct clue. “Nothing in it” means there’s an “o” in the answer. “Fault” implies “flaw” and “measure” “rule”. The answer is rule of law.
Recent answers to the Mephisto crossword, also in the Sunday Times but for a sharper brain than mine, include the words "yaff", "tellural", "tombic" and "te-hees". If I don't understand the answers then generally I won't be able to do the crossword. But there is great satisfaction in reading the clue and working out the answer without knowing the word beforehand, then finding it in the dictionary, thus making sense of the total clue.
Crosswords that are achievable are satisfying in a similar way to reading poetry. Not to suggest that poetry is inherently cryptic, although some poems are, but that language is not immediately transparent in either. Words are used figuratively; they are not stable signifiers but living organisms that shift and slide in various contexts.
There is a kind of pure logic to both the well-composed poem and the well-composed crossword. There can only be one outcome: if the poem is cohesive and follows a coherent progression of images, then the concluding lines are somehow inevitable, although still surprising. It is the same with the well-made clue: it can lead to only one word, and that’s always the answer.
An old and now deceased friend worked in the meteorological outstation in Kilkenny; in the early 1980s he spent his idle time composing crosswords, a cup of Bovril in one hand, pen in the other. One of my favourites included the clue “Ball bearing rat catcher” (6). Known as the Oracle to his mates, dear Noel was the internet of yesteryear. The answer, of course, is tomcat.
Isabelle Cartwright is a member of the Association of Freelance Editors, Proofreaders and Indexers
