University Daily Kansan, June 19, 1980
Page 5
Dictionary is readable
B. John Brenner, Words on Word: A Dictionary for
Writers and Others Who Care About Words.
North Columbia University Press, 1980, 496 pp.
Hardcover, 82.9; softbound $7.50.
By CALDER M. PICKETT Professor of Journalism
For many years I have openly advertised my opinion that John B. Bremner, professor of journalism at the University of Kansas, is the best language teacher in America. I further proclaim this view to the world, as his dictionary, "Words on Words," which I listen to daily, read a novel, be available to us.
It is a book that is addressed,
frequently, to the journalist. It need not be confined to the journalist. Anyone who writes, or reads, could enjoy this volume. Anyone who loves the language would find it a treasure.
What makes the book truly come alive is the fact that Bremner loves the language. He probably would love any language, so long as it was a language of form and dignity, but he especially loves English. He loves English as it has been borrowed from many other languages of the world. His knowledge of classical languages gives special insight into how different other languages, too, whether those languages be German, French, Pentagona or counter-culture.
here.
HE IS AN opinionated man. Anyone who knows John Bremner knows that if he has reason to say he'll say it. His assertions are persuasive (conservative) emerge
He draws his examples from classical sources, from the Bible, from movies, television and popular songs. Howard Cordell or Chris Schoenstel (not shown) has been mouthing off provide him examples. He draws from the way his students talk, from the gently little horrors he sees in the small articles and from memoranda.
"Words on Words," as I noted, is a dictionary. It's a dictionary, that is, in the sense that it proceeds from "A" to His first entry "AAN," see THE PARTY. "The party's over." It’s an unconventional dictionary. You’ll find a phrase, "some of my best friends," which gives him the occasion to sound like “Jewish,” and things as “Some of my best friends are Jews,” and gives him further occasion to offer a takeoff on that bromide: the rabbi of a New York synagogue, whose Quakers, said, "some of my best Jews are Friends."
ON THE SAME page you'll find "some place," which is either two words or "somewhere;" "some way," which is either two words or "somehow;" "sonnabulate," which comes from the Latin; "sonnar," which comes from the Sound navigation ranging"; and a section on "sonic writing."
How does one extract from this book of gems? I found myself reading it aloud to my wife. I cherished the entry on "Caucasian," which is a word from the Greek for "coward." I prompted him to tell about the young man who, on a form asking for church preference, said "Gothic." That young man and I are in accord. Why not put on our forms, after the question about the word "human," Brenner asks.
Brian Bremner is—maybe the word is "was"—an Australian, and there's a bit in from Australia. The word "australian" refers to language, he tells us. Under "strine" we are directed to "aorta." Under "aorta" we find sentences in Strine: "Aorta mice laut genst all these cars the nurseinner simie Simya. Aorta have more buses.
MOST OF US won't be using Australian very often, but that's the kind of thing that adds to the "fear" of speaking English in every point I rather like to "trendy," which seems to describe a lot of behavior that sickens my 18th century tastes, and I like "uptight," too. He says he "quotes," and I much prefer "quotation").
But much of the appeal of this book lies in the little areas where one may disagree, just as much of the appeal of my friendship with John Bremner lies in the fact that we don't always agree on everything.
Travolta believable in'Cowboy'
Bv SHAWN McKAY
Staff Reporter
Somewhere behind the romance of John Wayne westerns, the lonely cattle drives of the few remaining ranchers of the wild west rest at the rodees live the urban cowboys.
Trapped in crowded cities and dead end jobs, the urban cowboys mimic their western heroes. Dressed in tented hats, western shirts and boots, they become for a few hours each night in the city or on the vulnerable Montgomery Clift.
James Bridges' and Aaron Latham's film, Urban Cowboy, which opened last week at the Hilcrest Theatre, provides a glimpse into the life of one of the millions of men who invade the western wilderness for the fantasies of their western heroes.
Bud Davis (John Travolta) leaves his home for Houston, Tex. and spends his first night at Gilley's which is billed as the largest western nightclub in the country. The Sisay (Debra Winger) answers her and asks, "You a real cowboy?"
However the question of what is a real cowboy and why women are drawn to the primal independence of western figures is never answered in the film.
Like all independent characters of the classic westerns, it takes Bud a long time to find out what the actually wants. He throws his new bride, Sissy, out of their trailer and takes up with a pampered rich girl.
The only clue comes from an uptown girl (Madolyn Smith) who tells us that she has something for cowboys and muskets; they use complicated and know what they want.
Sissy is seeing an ex-con (Scott Glenn), and the battle begins between the tender egos of the night cowboys.
But in Urban Cowboy, Travolta manages to create a character that is much more believable than the "Saturday disco dance king in" "Saturday Night Fever." He gives the character the dumb macho image it warrants, and adds to it a sense of warmth and joy. The dumbness of the audience a dreamer—the small part of everyone who needs to escape from the unhappiness of our fast paced society.
"Saturday Night Fever." He plays the same dumb character and even manages to out-maneuver everyone else on the dance floor as he does a whirting version of the Texas two-step pictures "Siesta's heart in the process."
Although the movie does not answer the question of what is a real cowboy, it gives the reader more than a subtle hint of what he is not.
Winger brings to the screen a childish character who only wants to fall for a real cowboy and hold on to him. Yet like a child, her love turns bitter and stagnates when she sacrifices her own identity and moves in with the ex-con.
Travolta does not find happiness in his rodeo triumph at Gilley's because the music and the people around him are canned and fake.
The atmosphere of the nightclub comes off a little too perfect. All the patrons seem to have every hair in place and a cowboy hat that just came over them. The background characters come off a little too pretty and too macho to be real.
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The appeal of the movie is found in the dreams of the urban cowboys who were watching them, the days of the cattle drive are dead. Few really want to leave the glitter of the western clubs where egos run high with it. They're not afraid with anything in boots and a black hat.
The viewer can hardly ignore the resemblance to Travolta's first smash
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