Illustration by The Globe and MAil. Source photos: Associated Press, The Canadian Press
Welcome back to Puzzle Pieces, where I dive into our Saturday puzzles, explain the theme and celebrate the puzzle’s construction. As always, CAPS are for grid entries and [square brackets] are for clues.
Remember, spoilers ahead! Be sure to solve the puzzles before reading further.
Favourite moments in the Nov. 7 Weekender
It’s Not What You Know … comes to us from constructor Frédérick Lavoie, a government analyst in Ottawa. My favourite clues in this puzzle include these:
10A: In [Rock band seen in Accra?], the question mark is a hint that there’s wordplay afoot, and it might make you think “rock band” is a misdirect that’s actually referring to some kind of ore. But really it’s “seen in Accra” that’s trying to misdirect us: the letters CCR are seen within the word Accra, forming the common abbreviation for the rock band Creedence Clearwater Revival.
177A’s clue is perhaps my favourite in this puzzle. [It moves in the blink of an eye?] could refer a lot of things, until you figure out it’s something quite specific: a LASH.
And I’d be remiss if I didn’t note this hilarious clue procession:
- 120A [Noted German expressionist]
- 127A [Noted French Dadaist]
- 16D [Noted Spanish cubist]
- 86D [Noted Hungarian cubist?]
We debated whether we were overdoing this gimmick, or whether it distracted from the theme, but ultimately decided the bit of bonus fun was too good to pass up. The answers here in order are KLEE, ARP, PICASSO, all noted artists … and RUBIK, maker of perhaps the most famous cubes of all.
Breaking down the theme
This very clever theme reveals itself in layers, starting with some confusion, no doubt, as you hit the first theme clue at 19A: [Fire starter (“Speaking of which, I’ll never forget when my friend the former Ms. Middleton lit the Olympic torch”)].
What on Earth is that about, you wonder?
The next one comes along at 28A: [Went quickly (“That reminds me of how I raced through Ms. Thuy’s first draft of Ru”)].
These weird clues keep coming, for a total of 10! Each one is a short definition, followed by a sort of spoken aside that seems only tangentially related and seems to refer to a celebrity friend of the speaker’s.
Finally you reach the revealer at 123A: [Casually slips a famous connection into conversation, or what the speaker does, literally, into the theme answers].
That answer is NAME DROPS. This clarifies (maybe after a little more head-scratching) that those famous names aren’t just casually dropped into conversation; they need to be dropped into the words defined by the first part of each theme clue.
At 19A, a “fire starter” is a SPARK, but we drop KATE (the former Ms. Middleton mentioned in the aside) into it, giving S(KATE) PARK.
At 28A, “went quickly” is SPED, and we drop in KIM (the writer Ms. Thuy), giving S(KIM)PED.
I don’t have room to list all 10 but be sure to go back and appreciate every one. Fred did amazing work to come up with words that a) contained a gender-balanced list of names of famous Canadian or Canadian-adjacent celebrities and b) remained real words once the names were removed … not to mention all the great name-dropping lines that managed to relate to each main clue. No mean feat!
Fred tells me that through his work in Ottawa, he has yet to run into the Prime Minister, so any implied connection to Mark Carney is as fictional as the rest.
A note from constructor Frédérick Lavoie
I often make my wife laugh by insisting that each stage of a puzzle is the hardest: finding a theme, filling the 441 squares of a grid, trying to come up with clues that are both novel and fun …
For this one, though, I can confidently say that finding a set of well-known Canadian figures whose names (pronounced as such) could be removed from phrases and still leave other real words … yeah, that was the hardest part. The rest came together smoothly, though, in beautiful compensation.
I’m glad, because my time working on this puzzle came in a season of other projects: figuring out how to protect tulip bulbs from an army of squirrels, and also child-proofing for a voraciously curious toddler.
Cryptic clue of the week
In Fraser Simpson’s Nov. 7 Weekender Cryptic, let’s take a look at 20A: [Incorrect name change in memos he leaves her (8)].
I always have to remind myself not to leap to synonyms (my brain gets stuck in standard-crossword mode sometimes). Right away I’m wondering what “name change” might be, what “change in memos” might be, what “leaves” might be …
I also note that both “incorrect” and “change” can be anagram indicators, and the presence of two of them makes me think at least one is probably doing that job.
Let’s see … if “change” is the anagram indicator and the fodder is “in memos,” with some thinking (and some crossing letters in the grid), we can get MISNOME. The answer must be MISNOMER, i.e., “incorrect name.” But where does the R come from?
It’s here: he leaves her. Take the “he” out of “her” and what’s left? Just an R.
For those new to cryptics, here’s your weekly reminder that Fraser’s article How to solve The Globe’s cryptic crossword is a great primer.