Calling All Verbivores

by Harold Fox

The puzzler in the preceding number of CAV, was the following from “Ask Marilyn” (Parade, January 15, 2006), submitted by her reader, Raymond Love of Tucson, Arizona:

What is unusual about these words: assess, banana, dresser, grammar, potato, revive, uneven, voodoo?

Answer: If you move the first letter of each to the end and read the result backward, you have the original word.

Anne Powers submitted the following solution to the puzzler:

The words would be palindromes except that they are marred by one letter at the beginning that is not replicated at the end of the word.

While one might argue that Anne’s response is incomplete because she does not indicate that back-to-front reading offered by the transposition of the initial letters, I would maintain that her response is indeed a true statement and a necessary condition for the truthfulness of the “Ask Marilyn” answer, and, thereby, qualifies as a correct response. Thanks for your response, Anne, and congratulations.

Reference to the back-to-front reading brings to mind the subject of semordnilaps. You all remember what a semordnilap is, don’t you? If not, you could refer to back numbers of “Calling All Verbivores” (CAV) in the archived issues of Between the Lines for January/February 2005 and March/April 2005. If you can’t muster the zeal for basic research, just note that Willard R. Espy (The Game of Words, 1971, 1972, p. 185) coined the term “semordnilap” for the name of “words that spell different words in reverse.” Note that “semordnilap” is “palindromes” spelled backward. We won’t get into the question of why he reversed the plural to arrive at his singular. Espy provided several examples, including these:

devil, repaid, stressed, rewarder, straw, strap, deliver, bard, and doom

Now I need to recount some personal history. Just a bit more than a year ago (March 1, 2005, to be exact) I underwent total replacement surgery for my left knee. After three days in the hospital I began my recuperation at home. The surgery had gone very nicely, but there is considerable pain that comes with the processes of healing and recovery. My surgeon prescribed pain medication to help me get through the ordeal, but, despite the general success of that medication, I had the experience of waking in the middle of the night unable to find a position in bed that made the pain sufficiently bearable that I could get back to sleep. In fact, that condition recurred every night for at least three weeks. The first night I was able to sleep through the night without that interruption was an occasion for great rejoicing, a great milestone on the road to recovery.

The only strategy I found for overcoming this problem was to get out of bed, cross the hall with my walker to my study, and sit in my desk chair for a period of one half an hour to an hour. The darkness was not so complete that I could not navigate this journey without turning on any lights. I didn’t want any more light because it would only waken me more completely than the pain already had. Sitting in the desk chair invariably reduced my pain to a level at which I could become sleepy enough to return to bed and fall asleep in a reasonably short time. A few times I actually fell asleep in the chair and returned to bed after a nocturnal nap. These naps did not prevent me from sleeping when I returned to bed. The only hitch in this remedy was that time passed very slowly.

Normally, when I find myself unable to sleep at night, I read to fill the time until I become sleepy enough to return to bed with good probability of getting to sleep. In the condition described above, I did not want the light, nor did I want the lower light level but higher degree of involvement of using the computer. At some point I recalled my discussion of semordnilaps in the above-cited numbers of CAV. I began to try to identify additional examples beyond those mentioned there. I came up with several, and the exercise succeeded. It took my mind off the pain while filling the time of wakefulness. After the second night I could not remember many of the examples from the two previous nights. Although the exercise produced results that met the primary need that prompted it, I was a bit frustrated not to have enduring product for the effort. In other words, I wanted the exercise not to be merely a therapeutic activity, but also a project. The solution to that problem did not require great ingenuity or brilliant leaps of imagination. I was sitting at my desk, after all. Why not write down the semordnilaps as they came to me? I could find pen or pencil and paper by feel. So write them I did.

I discovered that what I wrote in the dark was reasonably legible, some over-writes and oddly shaped letters notwithstanding. Saving those papers provided the raw material for whatever product might emerge. They received little more than cursory inspection for verification of legibility and elimination of readily apparent duplications before being thrust into a manila folder. After the nights of being wakened by that implacable pain ceased and recovery proceeded, the project was suspended. Many months passed before that folder was opened. Those months were filled with performances in two plays and four trips for reunions, so “out of sight, out of mind” describes the fate of the semordnilaps for a significant period of time. They had provided a very welcome service, but they became victims of the “What have you done for me lately?” syndrome.

Eventually, however, the muted cries of those friendly little critters penetrated my consciousness. A return to the project was inevitable. I began to wonder, “How many of them are there?” Even a brief examination of the raw data made it apparent that that question could not be answered by simply counting those examples captured in the folder. Not only were there duplications, but some were erroneous. There was no hint that I had exhausted the possibilities. After all, the clarity of mind with which I had done the recording was less than optimum. I had to adopt some criterion of validity. Also, there arose the question of what a count meant. Remember, if you get one, you have really got two, by definition. That means that simply listing single words leads to considerable uncertainty.

The solution is nothing earth-shaking, but critical nonetheless. The criterion adopted was simply that both members of a pair had to appear in my unabridged dictionary. I decided to record them in an unnumbered list of pairs in a MS Word™ document. That list can easily be sorted alphabetically. I alphabetize the pair (e.g., abut – tuba rather than tuba – abut) to assign its place in the list. I first recorded those examples stored in the folder, but even doing that revealed new examples to me. Since then I have spent periods of a few minutes to try to identify additional examples, and reference to the extant list is a useful springboard that has produced a number of new pairs. At this time my list contains 172 pairs (344 semordnilaps). So far a four-column list fits easily on one page of the document with room for quite a few additions.

A few observations about this enterprise come readily to mind. First, there are not very many two-letter semordnilaps. I have only six pairs: ah – ha, am – ma,
er – re, ho – oh, it – ti, and no – on. It is easy to see that three-letter words provide the most fruitful field of candidates. Sixty of the pairs I have are made up of three-letter words. It is also readily apparent that longer semordnilaps will be hard to find. The longest examples I have are in the pairs desserts – stressed and redrawer – rewarder at eight letters, both of which I received from Espy (Ibid.).

You may have noted that semordnilaps are also anagrams, albeit of a rather trivial type. The rearrangement sure to find one new word contained in a semordnilap is the same for all semordnilaps, namely, the back to front flip. Because of the limited number of letters in semordnilaps, you are not going to find anything as interesting as this example of an anagram:
Ronald Wilson Reagan ? No, darlings, no ERA law.
One example of an anagram in a semordnilap other than its pair-mate, is this:

rewarder ? rawer red

You are invited to search for others, but don’t expect much.

Quite aside from the quantitative and orthographic features of semordnilaps, you might like to look for the relationships of meanings between the members of pairs. Can we find pairings that are odd, apt, funny, revolting, or enlightening? For example, the pair dog – god appears in an old joke about dyslexia. In this time of notable political rancor, consider this pairing: pols – slop. A pairing that prompts us to think about automated transportation systems is smart – trams. To describe the chronic pessimist we have doom – mood. Considering my attempts to play the game, now long abandoned, golf – flog seems an appropriate pairing. It seems to be a rare occurrence, but this pairing is one between two words of similar meaning: pat – tap. Another pairing that has a relationship of meanings is know – wonk. Finally, one that might be effective in discouraging such searching is this one: pus – sup.

You have probably read here much more than you ever wanted to know about semordnilaps. I felt impelled to pay tribute to these little creatures that provided me such a useful therapeutic service and which continued to provide mental entertainment and stimulation. I promise I won’t write about them again unless reader response requires me to. If you really, really want to see it, I will, on request, send you a copy of my list of semordnilaps by e-mail attachment.

Until next time, send me your suggestions or complaints or stumpers) at hfox@juno.com or 2005 Burroughs Drive, Dayton, Ohio 45406.