adjective
of or involving motion pictures.
The primary meaning nowadays of the adjective celluloid is “pertaining to the movies.” The noun celluloid refers to the hard, explosively flammable plastic that formerly was used to make movies until about 1950 (it was discontinued because of its flammability and tendency to decompose). Celluloid was originally a trademark (1869), a word composed of cellulose and the familiar suffix -oid “resembling, like”: Celluloid is something that resembles cellulose. Some people may remember from literature or the movies (or from Looney Tunes) the celluloid dickeys (pieces of clothing made to look like the front or collar of a shirt) that would pop out of a man’s waistcoat or cummerbund and roll up to his throat. Krusty the Klown of The Simpsons wore a dickey in an act of his that bombed badly (The Last Temptation of Krust, February 22, 1998). Celluloid entered English in the second half of the 19th century.
My wife and I knew Hollywood couldn’t be trusted. Chances were that the true story of the Von Trapps bore only a passing resemblance to the celluloid version.
The story of dashed celluloid dreams became a journalistic genre—the flip side of the overnight-discovery tale, and, in its way, an equal testament to the power of Hollywood.
noun
a bookseller, especially a dealer in rare or used books.
Bibliopole is not a misspelling of bibliophile: It is a legitimate word meaning “bookseller (especially of used or rare books),” from Latin bibliopōla from Greek bibliopṓlēs, a compound of biblio-, the combining form of biblíon “book,” and naturalized in English in Bible, bibliography, bibliophile, etc. The Greek combining form –pṓlēs “seller,” occurs only in compound nouns and is a derivative of the verb pōleîn “to offer for sale, sell.” Bibliopole entered English in the early 18th century.
I have seen a Wilshire clothier who gives his bookseller no other instructions than the dimensions of his shelves; and have just heard of a Liverpool merchant who is fitting up a library, and has told his bibliopole to send him Shakespeare, Milton, and Pope, and if any of those fellows should publish anything new to let him have it immediately.
Rare-book dealers and collectors had mixed feelings about the record costs. “The Snopeses are in the market,” grumbled one bibliopole, as agents for wealthy clients pushed prices to new highs.
The adjective versal, “universal; whole,” is a colloquial shortening of universal. But versal achieved respectability because of its first appearance, in Romeo and Juliet (written about 1591–96), when the Nurse tells Romeo that whenever she tells Juliet that Count Paris wants to marry Juliet, Juliet “lookes as pale as any clout [rag, dishrag] in the versall world.”
I anger her sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer man, but Ile warrant you, when I say so, shee lookes as pale as any clout in the versall world.
What else in the ‘versal world have you to do, but to go basking about in the yards and places with your tankard in your hand, from morning to night?