Setting Things Right: The Manifezto Pt.1

Hi all, welcome to Setting Things Right – aka The Manifezto (thanks Henri!) – a blog looking at not just how cryptic clues and puzzles work, but why. There’s a lot to think about, so it’s intentionally quite a ‘long read’. Of course, the ideas I’ll set out come from my own experience in solving, setting, testing and editing puzzles: despite the presumptuous blog title they are just my opinions. You may or may not agree wholeheartedly with everything I put forward. If you’re sceptical I hope you’ll still appreciate the argument, even if you disagree ... and that you’ll share and discuss your disagreements in the comments too!

OK, let’s begin ...

Part 1: Say What You Mean

For those setting out to write their own cryptic crosswords, some advice that’s often offered is:

“You must learn the rules before you can start to break them”

I take a rather different view, and one that I hope will help to give a fresh perspective on what a cryptic crossword – and in particular, what a cryptic clue – really is.

I’d suggest that cryptic clues are viewed by many as esoteric riddles, requiring knowledge of arcane rules or shrouded in some bizarre code that needs to be cracked. But my contention is that this is not at all the case. Rather, a clue provides exactly what you need to reach the answer – and, perhaps surprisingly (especially if you’re familiar with my Fez puzzles), in a more-or-less straightforward way. You might sometimes need access to reliable reference sources to help plug those inevitable gaps in general knowledge, but essentially a clue requires no specialised knowledge beyond a decent grasp of the English language. Solving (and setting) clues perhaps needs development of a certain way of thinking, for example getting used to sometimes seeing 'words' as having no meaning beyond being collections of individual letter 'objects' for you to play with. But you shouldn't need to accumulate a list of special tricks. A clue is not a riddle, a code, or a dingbat. And what’s more – shock horror! – there are no rules to learn, and hence no rules to break, however counter-intuitive that may seem.

Cryptic clues

To start with, this blog will deal with cryptic clues. A crossword involves more than just a set of individual clues, of course – there’s a grid to fill, for starters, and solvers appreciate a range of different answers and clue types, perhaps even a theme that ties the whole puzzle together. I’ll certainly look at these issues in later posts, but I expect that for most readers it is the construction of sound clues that is of primary interest. And so we’ll start with clues.

No rules?

You may think “no rules” is a little stark, and potentially misleading, though I do believe it to be true. If you want to be published, you'll need to adhere to the editorial guidelines of the publication you're targeting (e.g., the MyCrossword 'featured puzzles' guidelines) – but these just set out the expectations of that specific publication, they aren't a definitive list of what's acceptable in puzzles in general.

There are of course certain aspects that make a cryptic clue what it is. It needs to provide a definition of the answer you’re seeking, usually together with some further help – ‘wordplay’, or ‘subsidiary indications’, perhaps – so that the solver can hone in on the answer and be confident they’ve found the right one. Can such aspects really be considered rules? I’d say not. Instead, they set out the parameters of what a clue is – they are the basics, the axioms. They define the area of play: if a clue doesn’t meet these basic requirements, then it can’t really claim to be a clue at all. (And, in later posts, exploring more advanced puzzles, we’ll see even these aspects can be messed around with to a certain extent!)

One supposed ‘rule’ that new setters are often reminded of is:

“Thou shalt not use an indirect anagram”

That seems fair enough, but if you tried to encapsulate everything about clue setting in terms of such ‘rules’ you’d have a pretty much never-ending list. So it makes more sense not to just accept you have to follow a rule, but to consider why you shouldn’t use an indirect anagram. The reason is to do with fairness: asking solvers to find a synonym of a word and then find an anagram of it is, in most cases, just a step too far to be reasonably ‘gettable’. Consider:

Strange clues apart (5)

Here, you have an anagram (indicated by “strange”) of a word for “clues” ... but the leap from “clues” to IDEAS, to eventually lead you to the answer ASIDE, is just not reasonable.

That clue doesn’t fail simply because it ignores some arbitrary ‘rule’ specifically about anagrams. It fails because it’s too indirect, and thus unfair to the solver. Indirectness can be unfair in all sorts of ways:

Yours truly entertained by tape deck (6)

Maybe, with a few crossing letters in place, you might get to the intended hidden word SETTER in “casSETTE Recorder” ... but again, it’s far too much of a leap to be fair to solvers. Rather than add another arbitrary ‘rule’ (“Thou shalt not use an indirect hidden answer”), you just need to adhere to an over-riding principle of fairness – always be fair to the solver. There’s no need for any ‘rule’.

Accuracy, fairness and style

Rather than thinking in terms of individual rules, it’s preferable to think in terms of over-arching principles. Throughout this blog, I’ll argue that a good cryptic clue must satisfy just three basic principles: accuracy, fairness and style. Everything else flows from these three core principles. And, as they’re not rules per se, there’s inevitably going to be some debate around whether, or to what extent, any individual clue satisfies them. That’s all part of the fun of crosswords, though: if a clue could be judged completely against a strict set of determined rules, where would be the opportunities for quibbling and good-natured arguments that help to keep puzzles fresh and interesting?

It's around 60 years since Derrick Somerset Macnutt – the great Ximenes – set out his views in the seminal “Ximenes On The Art Of The Crossword” (1966). His aim – and, I believe, his successful legacy – was to make the cryptic crossword more enjoyable and more rewarding for all solvers. He achieved this through seeking “a system of principles” that would ensure the solver could be confident in their answers. And his – or rather, his ‘mentor’ Afrit’s – key principle, which will remain the key principle throughout this blog, can be summarised as:

“Say what you mean!”

So, what does that mean?

Just that the clue provides a fair and accurate description, representation or instruction to enable the solver to reach the answer. For example, it (usually) has to provide a definition of some sort. And it can’t rely on vague allusions or wild leaps of faith on the part of the solver, or include anything that’s simply there to put the solver off the scent: it must actually provide everything that is needed, and nothing more. “Say what you mean” encapsulates the first of the three basic principles I’ve proposed: accuracy.

Why do I say this is the first principle? Because, for me, it is absolutely fundamental to what a clue really is. Without accuracy, I’d argue that a clue fails in its primary aim. It’s tempting to think that if a clue is simply ‘gettable’ – if you can readily determine the answer from the clue – then the niceties of precise syntax or grammar are just peripheral considerations. You can get the answer, and you can enjoy the process, and that’s great ... but, as I hope to persuade you, it misses the whole point of what a clue should be, what makes a good clue so satisfying. (I’ll expand on this next time, where we’ll explore the essence of what makes a cryptic clue.)

Building on accuracy, the second principle is fairness – or, as I just alluded to, ‘gettability’. A clue may be incredibly clever and technically accurate, but if it simply asks too much of your solvers then it fails. A well-known analogy is that of the newbie setter proudly presenting their latest puzzle to their friends: “You’ll never be able to solve this!” The response? “Well, what’s the point of that then?” The crossword is often viewed as a struggle, a battle of wits, between the setter and the solver. But key to this is that, in the end, the setter has to lose that battle gracefully. So, the solver must be confident that the setter will be scrupulously fair, to give them a fighting chance.

The third principle, which I’ve termed ‘style’ for want of a better word, is perhaps the most difficult to judge, and the most open to interpretation. Essentially, it requires not just that the clue gives you the answer, but that it does so in a pleasing way. If your clue is perfectly accurate and gettable, but consists of a jumble of apparently meaningless words – it lacks any coherent surface – then there’s little fun to be had. If you anagram ‘bread’ to BEARD, there’s not much enjoyment there as the two words are just too close; you haven’t really made much of an anagram. Or if you clue DOUBLE as a double definition (excuse the pun), “Match replica (6)”, there’s no pleasurable surprise in that because the meanings are so close – it’s too ‘same-sidey’ (of which, more later).

Principles in practice

A simple example. Say you are confronted with the following clue – a pretty terrible clue, really, but intentionally so for illustrative purposes:

Crosswords start with occasionally loud, easy hints (5)

You can probably see the answer easily enough. You have the “start” of the word “Crosswords”, C, together “with” the alternate – or “occasionally” appearing – letters of “LoUd, EaSy”, LUES. Together they give you an answer meaning “hints”: CLUES.

It’s ‘gettable’, so what’s the problem?

Well, there are a few. For a start, the surface reading of the clue – the ‘disguise’, if you like, that temporarily distracts the solver from its cryptic meaning – is complete nonsense; in what way is a crossword hint “loud”? It is somewhat like Chomsky’s famous “Colourless green ideas sleep furiously." It works, grammatically, as a sentence, but it really makes no sense (and in a banal way – it’s not pleasingly bizarre or surreal in a way that might save it by actually raising a laugh or provoking a thought, say). It’s still fair as a clue, in this respect at least – you can get to the answer easily enough – so the problem here is one of style.

Secondly, perhaps, there’s that “occasionally”. Does that really mean to take alternate letters? Surely “occasionally” just means at fairly random intervals, not, say, “regularly” or “periodically” which actually tell the solver, clearly, that they must take alternate letters. But I say only perhaps, as the majority of solvers would happily accept “occasionally” used in this way – including me.

Which leads to a little diversion to consider just what is meant by “accuracy” in a clue. A case like this, I’d say, remains “accurate” (if not exactly “precise”) by taking advantage of a sort of Occam’s Razor; when confronted with something that is potentially ambiguous, the solver should be confident to accept the ‘simplest’ interpretation as the intended meaning. In this case, asking what the setter might reasonably mean by “occasionally”, it’d be fair to conclude that they don’t want you to just take any random selection of letters – that would be asking for far too much guesswork! Instead, the most reasonable interpretation is to take a set of regularly appearing letters, as intended. Compare with, say, “a little bit of everything” to clue the first letter, E – that “little bit” could really be E or EV or EVE or even VERY or ING, but the solver can trust that the setter has used the most reasonable simple interpretation, avoiding any guesswork, as just that first letter.

Similarly, a setter might ask the solver to “discover” a word by removing its ‘covers’, the first and last letters – “discover China”, say, to clue the string HIN. In everyday language “discover” doesn’t really mean to take the covers away. The setter is playing with language in a whimsical way. Again, I believe this is perfectly fair – solvers are, almost by definition, interested in playing around with words and meanings, so it feels fine to ask them to expect a little such playfulness and whimsicality in their clues.

Now, not everyone would agree with that approach, because strictly, in those cases examined above, the setter isn’t really saying precisely what they mean. Instead, they’re relying on the solver’s reasonable expectation, or on the acceptance of a whimsical interpretation. And it’s in such cases that I believe the division between the two camps that have broadly come to be known as “Ximenean” and “Libertarian” occurs. But it’s also my belief that the ‘gap’ between these two camps is much, much smaller than it’s sometimes made out to be. Both a ‘Xim’ and a ‘Lib’ (in so far as such stereotypes exist) should expect accuracy, but the former may feel that requires absolute precision, whilst the latter might prefer a little more playfulness ... without straying into inaccuracy. It’s a question, really, of the degree to which it remains fair to the solver – still saying what you mean, but also expecting the solver to accept a little leeway ... provided any ambiguity can be reasonably resolved, and any ‘whimsical’ language can be readily interpreted. I’ll discuss this supposed ‘Ximenean vs. Libertarian’ divide in more detail in later posts, but for now suffice to say it’s not the great divide you might imagine (and in fact, I don’t think it really provides a useful or particularly meaningful distinction anyway ... but enough of that for now!)

To return to our original example, even though we can accept the arguably imprecise “occasionally” there’s still one further problem, and in my opinion it’s the most egregious: does “Crosswords start” accurately lead you to that letter C?

I’d say not. Yes, the juxtaposition of the word “Crosswords” with “start” suggests that the setter may be asking you to select the first letter – but it doesn’t actually say that in the way that, say, “Crosswords to start”, “Start of crosswords” or “Crossword’s start” do. All of those alternatives clearly indicate some sort of possession, asking you to select the “start” that ‘belongs to’ the fodder word. The original is simply not accurate, so for me it fails on that first principle.

But “ah”, I hear you say – we’re allowed a little whimsicality, aren’t we? You can put two words together to form a descriptive phrase that’s meaningful and understandable, even if it’s not strictly correct, grammatically? You could view the “Crosswords” as some sort of pseudo-adjective, perhaps? Well, here I’d have to concede that you might have something of an argument ... but I’d still reject the construction. When you say something is “on board” to mean it’s within SS (i.e., it’s being borne by a ship), you’re playing with language in a fun way. It’s an interesting, entertaining angle to take, with a nice ‘penny-drop moment’. (OK, that particular example may arguably now feel too over-used to still be especially fun or surprising, but hopefully the idea is clear. And because it is now rather ‘chestnutty’, there’s also quite a satisfying feeling of familiar comfort when encountering it ... nothing wrong with that at all, and it will still be a new idea to some, too.) But something like “Crosswords start” isn’t, to me, particularly interesting or entertaining. There’s no pennies dropping. It rarely earns its place as entertainingly whimsical shorthand, instead feeling more like a convenient fudge to help out the setter. So, even if you may be willing to let the construction pass in terms of accuracy (and, given that it’s hardly a difficult meaning to fathom out, it surely passes the fairness test), I’d still counter that it fails in terms of style.

Summary

OK, so to summarise, as far as clues go, the foundation of this blog is:

• There are no rules
• Rather, there are just three key principles
• The first principle for any clue is to “say what you mean”: accuracy
• A clue then needs to be ‘gettable’, demonstrating fairness
• And it should be entertaining – it should show style

Of course, seeing as there are no strict rules, much is subjective – and you may well disagree with my interpretations of what is really accurate, fair or stylish. But I do hope that you can engage with the basic argument, and that it helps you to better appreciate ‘good’ clues as a solver, and to write better clues as a setter.

In my experience, many new (and not so new) setters tend to favour fairness and style over strict accuracy: if a clue is ‘gettable’ and entertaining, then that’s enough to make it a good clue. Accuracy comes further down the list. In the next post, I’ll set out why I believe, to the contrary, accuracy is the most important element, the foundation. By examining what a clue really is – or what it really should be – I hope to persuade you that without accuracy, a clue isn’t really successful as a clue at all, no matter how ‘gettable’ and entertaining it might be. And I appreciate that might sound like snobbery, as of course entertainment is the name of the game – but the intention is to really get to the bottom of what it is that makes solving a good clue so satisfying, to tease out the ingredients that make certain clues hit the top of solvers’ tick lists. To explain my viewpoint, where accuracy is the necessary ingredient, I’ll introduce an analogy that may provoke a subtle shift in your understanding or preconception of what a cryptic clue fundamentally is. And that analogy involves one animal: a duck and a rabbit.

Til next time, cheers!

Fez