Word of the Day
serein
noun
fine rain falling after sunset from a sky in which no clouds are visible.
More about serein
Serein “fine rain falling after sunset from a cloudless sky” is a borrowing from French, from Middle French serain “evening, nightfall.” If you listened to our recent Word of the Day podcast about serotinal “occurring in late summer,” the ultimate origin of serein should look familiar: the term derives from Latin sērum “a late hour,” from the adjective sērus “late.” A common misconception is that serein is related to serene “peaceful, clear, unclouded,” but while the words are similar in appearance and definition, they are likely unconnected. Serene instead derives from Latin serēnus “cheerful, tranquil; (of weather) clear, unclouded,” and a derivative noun, serēnum, means “fine weather.” Serein was first recorded in English in the late 1860s.
how is serein used?
They walked in silence through the twilight. There were no clouds in the sky, but a serein drizzled down, making the cobbles slick and giving the warmth emanating from the buildings around them a clammy feel. The rain meant the streets were emptier than they might have been, but Harper still felt exposed.
Serein, the cloudless night rain, is gently flecking the glass. The ballpoint prints his words, upright and stylish. The light dies away as he writes.
More about angakok
Angakok “a shaman in Inuit society” is a borrowing, by way of a Germanic source such as Danish or German, from Greenlandic Inuit angeqok. Because Inuit, a continuum of dialects spoken from Alaska through Greenland, uses multiple writing systems, the transliteration of angeqok has numerous alternative spellings, such as angakok, angakkoq, and angekkok. Inuit belongs to the Eskimo–Aleut language family, which includes languages spoken throughout the North American part of the Arctic Circle. While Inuit is the most extensively spoken, there are two other major branches of the Eskimo–Aleut family: Aleut dialects are spoken in the Aleutian archipelago off the coast of Alaska, and the Yupik languages are spoken in southwestern Alaska and the easternmost coast of Siberia. Angakok was first recorded in English in the 1760s.
how is angakok used?
The powerful sea goddess [Sedna] could also punish people for breaking taboos by causing them to become sick or injured. It was the duty of the Inuit angakok (shaman) to visit Sedna through soul travel to determine what wrong had been done. The angakok would have to placate Sedna by combing and braiding her dishevelled hair, or by overpowering her to force her to release animals for the hunt.
Often, illnesses or difficulties resulted from a taboo being broken. The angakok would hold a ceremony in which his familiar spirits would assist him to travel outside of his body to far-off places where he would learn the cause of the problem and how to rectify the situation. Once he returned to his body, the angakok would question the individual or other persons in the household. The general belief was that the angakok knew who was at fault, so those he questioned were obliged to answer him truthfully.
melancholic
adjective
disposed to or affected with intense sadness or low spirits; gloomy.
More about melancholic
Melancholic “disposed to or affected with intense sadness or low spirits” derives via Late Latin from Ancient Greek melancholía “condition of having black bile,” equivalent to melās “black” and cholḗ “bile, gall.” Black bile was one of the four humors (along with blood, phlegm, and yellow bile) that were once believed to affect temperament, and an excess of black bile was once believed to cause low, negative feelings. Melancholy came to refer to this excess of black bile and then to the feelings that this excess was believed to cause. Though we use depression today to indicate prolonged sadness, historical figures who struggled with depression, such as Abraham Lincoln, were described in their time as melancholic. Melancholic was first recorded in English around the turn of the 14th century.
how is melancholic used?
Once an anthem for the possibilities of Americana, “Country Roads” half a century later might resonate with the Asian diaspora in a different way: as a melancholic reminder of leaving a place they called home, and everything lost to the promise of a better life.
Already an anxious and melancholic child, the train crash un-loosed something in me, vague broodings. In the weeks that followed I would lay in bed at night feeling like I was made of black air. At any time death could claim me. Worse, it could claim my mother. She did what she could to help comfort my fears.