Each week a crossword, set with the patience of a craftsman, leaves a small trail of meaning for those who bother to follow it. This time the Globe and Mail's Weekender puzzle, called Emotional Stakes, hides its heart in plain sight: feeling words slip out of the longer Across entries and sink into the Down columns, so that the grid itself enacts the sensation its clue describes. Its columnist, Puzzle Pieces, takes the trouble to show how the trick works and why a puzzle might ask its solvers to reach for both pop culture and the familiar Canadian corners of everyday life. It is a modest episo
Inside the Globe's 'Emotional Stakes' Weekender: Sinking Feelings, a Charade Clue and a Dickensian Payoff
The feeling part sinks into a Down slot.
Mark
Why does a column spend so much time on one puzzle's theme?
Mimi
Because the theme here is hard to see. The circled squares run Down, but the real answers start in long Across entries and turn the corner. Once you see it, it's neat.
Mark
Can you give an example?
Mimi
WEIGHTLIFTING GLOVE at 21A. The last four letters, LOVE, drop into the circled squares, and they also sit inside ALL OVER at 11D.
Luke
That's the column explaining its own puzzle, so the mechanism is solid. But the claim that every entry is fairly clued is the Globe's own statement about its process. We can't check it from here.
Mark
What about the pop-culture list? Is it a defence of the puzzle?
Mimi
Partly. The column asks when today's stars get to count as old movie stars. It's an argument for variety, so more people can find something familiar.
Luke
It's an argument, not a finding. Some solvers will still disagree, and the piece doesn't offer any data on who finds the puzzle accessible.
Mark
And the Sabastian Sawe mistake?
Mimi
Nediger spelled it Sebastian when he submitted the puzzle and credits editors and test solvers with the fix. It's a small, honest detail.
Luke
Worth noting that's his account. The column doesn't say who caught it or when.
Mark
And the cryptic clue?
Mimi
O for love, plus LIVER, gives OLIVER. Then the Dickens line confirms it.
The Pulse
- A theme hidden in reverse threatens to confuse solvers, since its feeling words run Down where the rule says Across.
- A constructor's misspelled runner, SEBASTIAN SAWE for Sabastian Sawe, nearly slipped past the grid before editors and test solvers caught it.
- Columnist Puzzle Pieces untangles the mechanism, showing how each circled string tails a longer Across entry and drops a word for a feeling into a Down slot.
- A cryptic charade, OLIVER from O and LIVER, delights readers, and the column settles into its weekly rhythm with another Weekender next week.
Each week a crossword, set with the patience of a craftsman, leaves a small trail of meaning for those who bother to follow it. This time the Globe and Mail's Weekender puzzle, called Emotional Stakes, hides its heart in plain sight: feeling words slip out of the longer Across entries and sink into the Down columns, so that the grid itself enacts the sensation its clue describes. Its columnist, Puzzle Pieces, takes the trouble to show how the trick works and why a puzzle might ask its solvers to reach for both pop culture and the familiar Canadian corners of everyday life. It is a modest episode, but a telling one about how a puzzle earns trust: through careful construction, honest correction, and the quiet pleasure of discovery.
This week's Globe and Mail Weekender crossword is called Emotional Stakes, and its theme is announced at 119A as SINKING FEELINGS. The weekly column Puzzle Pieces explains the puzzle's unusual mechanism, and warns readers to finish the Saturday grid before reading on.
The usual rule is that a theme lives in the longest Across entries, but here the circled strings run Down. Each one is the tail of an Across answer that turns a corner and writes a hidden feeling word into the Down squares. The first example is WEIGHTLIFTING GLOVE at 21A, where L-O-V-E sinks into ALL OVER at 11D. Four more follow, from ICE COLD BEVERAGE to PAUL SUN-HYUNG LEE.
Constructor Will Nediger added a note of his own. He was pleased to fit a long Canadian name into the theme, but he admitted that he had misspelled the runner's name as SEBASTIAN SAWE, despite seeing it in the news many times. Editors and test solvers caught the slip.
The column also celebrates the grid's wide reach, from Edith Wharton and Star Trek to Ken Dryden and banana, sumac and soba noodles. It defends such material against the complaint that crosswords should stick to general knowledge, arguing that discovery is part of the pleasure and that every entry is vetted and fairly clued.
The cryptic clue of the week, 9A in the Weekender Cryptic, is [He wanted more love (and organ meat) (6)]. Love means O, liver is LIVER, and together they make OLIVER, with a sly nod to Dickens's Oliver Twist. Next week, Puzzle Pieces returns with another Weekender.
The theme of this week's Globe and Mail Weekender crossword, titled Emotional Stakes, is spelled out at 119A. The clue reads [Pit-of-the-stomach sensations … and this puzzle's circled strings?], and the answer is SINKING FEELINGS. The explanation comes in the paper's weekly column, Puzzle Pieces, which also looks at one cryptic clue by Fraser Simpson. The column warns readers to finish the Saturday puzzles first, since it spoils them.
The mechanism is unusual. The column has said before that a theme normally lives in the longest Across entries, and the circled strings here run Down. The theme still follows that rule, though. Each circled string is the tail end of a longer Across entry. The entry starts running Across, then turns, and its last letters, a hidden word for a feeling, drop into a Down slot. The feeling "sinks."
The first example is at 21A. [Gym accessory for gripping heavy bars] is WEIGHTLIFTING GLOVE, and it only fits if the solver turns the corner and writes L-O-V-E into the circled squares. Those same squares are part of the Down entry ALL OVER at 11D. The trick works four more times: 37A, ICE COLD BEVERAGE, crossing DISPARAGE at 13D; 60A, SABASTIANSAWE, crossing RAWER at 57D; 76A, ENERGY VAMPIRE, crossing SIRE at 73D; and 97A, PAUL SUN-HYUNG LEE, crossing EAGLE EYE at 91D.
Constructor Will Nediger wrote a note for the column. When he builds puzzles for Canadian outlets, he keeps a list of Canadian entries he likes. Most are short ones that turn up constantly, such as TSN or CRA, so he was pleased to fit in a long one like PAUL SUN-HYUNG LEE, especially as part of the theme. He also admitted a mistake: he submitted the runner's name as SEBASTIAN SAWE, having seen it in the news several times without noticing that the first name is spelled Sabastian. He credited editors and test solvers with catching it.
The column also catalogues the grid's pop-culture range. Among writers, artists and musicians are Edith Wharton, Maurizio Cattelan, Ira Gershwin, Gil Scott-Heron, Bedouin Soundclash, Eleanor Estes, John Keats and Ian Thomas. Screen references include Star Trek, The Sopranos, Mean Girls, Avatar, Kim's Convenience, The Avengers and Peppa Pig. Sports brings in the Houston Astros, Ken Dryden, Sabastian Sawe and the Edmonton Elks. Etna and Uganda cover geography. Food runs from banana, sumac and soba noodles to Oreos and Ida red apples. Online culture shows up as a bra-sizing subreddit, YouTube videos, the #OOTD hashtag and the abbreviation IIRC.
The column takes up the complaint that crosswords should stick to vocabulary and general knowledge. Its answer is that solvers rarely object to operas or old movie stars, and today's movie stars will eventually be old ones too, so it asks when they should be allowed in. It says every Weekender puzzle is vetted by a team of test solvers, and that entries are clued fairly and supported by accessible crossings. Discovery, it says, is part of the pleasure.
The cryptic clue of the week is 9A in the Weekender Cryptic: [He wanted more love (and organ meat) (6)]. The columnist says it made them laugh out loud, and praises its surface sense, the plausible-sounding picture a cryptic clue paints on top of its wordplay. This one hints at no one in particular but sounds as if it might. It is also the kind of clean clue Fraser Simpson is known for.
The mechanism is a charade, in which the answer is broken into pieces and clued one at a time. In cryptics, "love" often means the tennis score of zero, which gives the letter O. A type of organ meat is LIVER. Parentheses can usually be ignored, so "love (and organ meat)" becomes O and LIVER, yielding OLIVER. The clue's opening also points to the line "Please, sir, I want some more," spoken by Oliver Twist in Charles Dickens's novel. Puzzle Pieces returns next week with another Weekender.
Notable Quotes
He submitted SEBASTIAN SAWE by mistake, never having noticed the first name is spelled Sabastian, and thanked editors and test solvers for the catch.— Will Nediger, constructor (paraphrased)
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