It’s always good to see Eclogue’s name on an Inquisitor puzzle.
We had a fairly short preamble this week which stated: Clues are presented in alphabetical order of their solutions. Twenty four clues omit one letter in their wordplay. These letters, which must be highlighted in the completed grid, are positioned such that there is only one such incidence in each row and column. Solvers should demonstrate the commutability of these letters by inserting a single thematic entry number in the solution grid.
I like alphabetical jigsaw grids as the first letter is often the most helpful when cold solving. A few clues fell quite quickly thus reducing the choice of initial letters for the rest. I started of with 2 of the Es, an H and an I as well having a good idea of the F without being able to parse it at that time. This gave me EATH, ELANETS, HOLINESSES, INTERSPECIFIC and FLICHTERED. I did notice that there was a choice of which S to be the omitted letter in HOLINESSES. At this stage I didn’t pay much attention to the omitted letters in the wordplay other than to make a note of them. In fact, I didn’t really pay much attention to them until the grid was filled.
I then turned my attention to the other two 13 letter entries as I could see that HOLINESSES and FLICHTERED were the only two 10 letter entries and they would help me determine the position of each 13 letter answer. IN THE DOGHOUSE fell quickly and SAVE AS YOU EARN was obviously an anagram with one letter missing.
I saw that HOLINESSES would only work in row 10 and confidence in FLICHTERED increased when that also fitted with IN THE DOGHOUSE in column 5, INTERSPECIFIC in column 7 and SAVE AS YOU EARN in column 9.
From there on, the grid filled up steadily.
At that point I started to look at the position of the omitted letters. My first reading of the preamble made me think that there would only be one occurrence of the omitted letter in the intersecting row and column, but that understanding fell by the way side very quickly when I realised that there was almost always at least two Es in any pair of intersecting rows and columns.
As I continued highlighting the omitted letters I started to see that only one cell would be highlighted in any pair of intersecting rows and columns. That part of the puzzle identified the entry ILAN and how I should parse it. Any possible choices of letters to omit were also resolved at this stage.
The omitted letters can be read in two ways:
First reading down through the rows we have: TWELVE PLUS ONE,
while reading across the columns we have ELEVEN PLUS TWO
The two readings indicate a fairly well known anagram, but congratulations to Eclogue on being able to demonstrate it in very effectively.
That left the final part of the endgame – ‘Solvers should demonstrate the commutability of these letters by inserting a single thematic entry number in the solution grid’ Given that the total of the sums is 13, whichever way you read them, I have chosen to highlight the cell where the entry at 13 down would begin and write in the number 13 [thematic entry number]. I wondered if the entry at 13 would have any thematic relevance, but I think that would have been a step to far. I also looked to see if the word THIRTEEN was spelled out in the grid but I couldn’t find it any connected cells.
The clues were very fair, although it took me a while to see the parsing in FLICHTERED and ILAN The definition of ALSO as ITEM was new to me, but the clue was clearly using a hidden word device. BELONGER as a conservative type was also a new word for me. There were a few other entries that I was only vaguely aware of, possibly because I had encountered them in barred puzzles over many years.
The detailed table below shows where the omitted letters are located in twenty four entries. Twenty two of these form the intersection between across and down entries. While the other two, the V in NERVE and the S in HOLINESSES are unchecked letters. This gives us single cells in the intersection of 13 different pairs of rows and columns.
My final grid is shown below,
The title COMMUTABILITY is based on the mathematical commutative property which states that In mathematics, a binary operation is commutative if changing the order of the operands does not change the result. It is a fundamental property of many binary operations, and many mathematical proofs depend on it. In the case of this puzzle you can change the order of the letters TWELVE PLUS ONE to form ELEVEN PLUS TWO and show that the result of the operation / equation is still THIRTEEN
Thanks to Eclogue for a pleasant challenge.
Afternote: Arnold’s comment at 3 below suggesting that the entry NOWT should be 13 in the grid makes a lot of sense, so I checked my grid numbering. As shown in the empty grid below, entry 13 is definitely DARE, so I am a bit confused as to what the final part of the puzzle should be.
No | Clue | Letter | Entry |
Prodigal son secreting item (4)
ALSO (an archaic definition of item) ALSO (hidden word in [secreting] PRODIGAL SON) ALSO |
ALSO | ||
Briefly approach Northern Irish for Parisian future (6)
AVENIR (French [Parisian] for ‘future’) AVE (short form of [briefly] AVEnue [approach]) + (N [Northern] + IR [Irish]) AVE N IR |
AVENIR | ||
Conservative type to live with wild ass (not accepted) (8)
BELONGER (person of conservative, middle-class values and lifestyle, conforming to social norms) BE (live) + ONAGER (the wild ass of Central Asia) excluding (not) A (accepted) BE ONGER |
L | BELONGER | |
British sculptor of steel’s mode of transport (4)
CARO (reference Sir Antony CARO [1924 – 2013]. British sculptor whose work is characterised by assemblages of metal using ‘found’ industrial objects; British sculptor of steel) CAR (mode of transport) CAR |
O | CARO | |
13 | Large knife about to challenge (4)
DARE (challenge) DA (heavy Burmese knife) + RE (with reference to; about) DA RE |
DARE | |
Oracle’s in charge: excavation goes ahead (7)
DELPHIC (of the Oracle of DELPHI) DELPH (ditch or excavation) + I/C (in charge) DELPH IC |
DELPHIC | ||
Edmund’s unconstrained, jaunty hat (4)
EATH (Edmund Spenser’s term for ‘easy’; Edmund’s unconstrained) Anagram of (jaunty) HAT ATH* |
E | EATH | |
Kites made from shimmering sateen (7)
ELANETS (kites of the genus Elanus) Anagram of (shimmering) SATEEN EANETS* |
L | ELANETS | |
The Spanish document signed in former ages (4)
ELDS (former times or antiquity.) EL (Spanish for ‘the’) + DS (document signed) EL DS |
ELDS | ||
Foreign female in Nice hastened goddess in to be there (9)
ÉTRANGÈRE (Female version of the French[(in Nice] word for ‘foreign’) (RAN [hastened] + GE [in Greek mythology, the goddess or personification of Earth]) contained in (in) ETRE (French [in Nice] for ‘to be’) ET (RAN GE) RE |
ETRANGERE | ||
Jock’s fluttered most of film strip, spread around note (10)
FLICHTERED (Scottish [Jock] word for fluttered) FICHE (strip of film containing miniaturized data) excluding the final letter (most of ) + (TED [spread new mown grass for drying] containing [around] RE [note of the tonic sol-fa ) FICH TE (RE) D |
L | FLICHTERED | |
States of sanctity: Hindu festival’s initiation of novices eases one out (10)
HOLINESSES (states of sanctity) HOLI (Hindu Spring festival) + N (first letter of [initiation of] NOVICES) + EASES excluding (out) A (one) HOLI N ESES |
S | HOLINESSES | |
Hebrew tree man, independent indeed! (4)
ILAN (name for a man that means ‘tree’ in Hebrew) I (independent) + LA (indeed) I LA |
N | ILAN | |
Fierce tics in spasms, as behaviour between groups (13)
INTERSPECIFIC (relating to or occurring between different species) Anagram of (spasms) FIERCE TICS IN INTERSECIFIC* |
P | INTERSPECIFIC | |
Disgraced, sporting hideous thong (13, 3 words)
IN THE DOGHOUSE (disgraced) Anagram of (sporting) HIDEOUS THONG IN THE DOGHOUS |
E | IN THE DOGHOUSE | |
Conveys the French notices (5)
LEADS (conveys) LE (French for ‘the’) + ADS (advertisements; notices) LE ADS |
LEADS | ||
West, perhaps, vehemently removing one in an ill-disposed way (12)
MALEVOLENTLY (in an ill-disposed way) MAE (reference MAE West [1892 – 1980], American stage and film actress) + VIOLENTLY (vehemently) excluding (removing) I (Roman numeral for one) MAE VOLENTLY |
L | MALEVOLENTLY | |
Jade has a rice drink in Oriental city (8)
NAGASAKI (city in Japan [oriental]) NAG (pitiful worn-out horse; JADE can be defined similarly) + A + SAKI (Japanese alcoholic drink made from fermented rice) NAG A SAKI |
NAGASAKI | ||
Bottle green, without lid, to be stirred (5)
NERVE (courage; bottle) Anagram of (to be stirred) GREEN excluding the first letter (without lid) G NERE* |
V | NERVE | |
It’s referring to saltpetre (5)
NITRE (saltpetre) IT + RE (referring to) IT RE |
N | NITRE | |
Becomes a vagabond, which is foolish among old bands of musicians (9)
NOMADISES (leads a nomadic or vagabond life) MAD (extremely foolish) contained in (among) NOISES (obsolete [old] terms for bands of musicians) NO (MAD) ISES |
NOMADISES | ||
Returning fashion is of no consequence to some (4)
NOWT (dialect [for some] term for ‘nothing’) TON (fashion) reversed (returning) NOT< |
W | NOWT | |
Sexual heat excites rut in some, naughtily … (7)
OESTRUM (vehement stimulus or frenzy in heat or sexual impulse) Anagram of (excites) RUT contained in (in) an anagram of (naughtily) SOME OES (TRU*) M* |
OESTRUM | ||
… erect individual has no date (5, 2 words)
ON END (erect) ONE (individual) + ND (no date) ON E ND |
ON END | ||
To clean excessively with piety could result in topsy-turvied mess (8)
OVERDUST (clean excessively) TOPSY-TURVIES is an anagram of (mess) PIETY and OVRDUST [entry without missing letter) OVRDUST |
E | OVERDUST | |
Apple yard special for Boz’s pets (7)
POMPEYS (Charles Dickens’ [Boz was Dickens’ pen-name] word for pampers [pets]) POME (rare word for apple) + Y (yard) + S (special) POME Y S |
P | POMPEYS | |
Create new division in old kingdom where one is “the greatest” (7)
REALIGN (create new division) REIGN (obsolete [old] word for ‘kingdom’) with I (Roman numeral for one) replaced by (is) ALI (reference Muhammad ALI [1942 – 2016] who called himself ‘the greatest’ boxer) RE ALI GN |
REALIGN | ||
Former workers concerned with flags (8)
RETIREES (former workers) RE (concerned with) + TIRES (wearies; flags) RE TIRES |
E | RETIREES | |
Loose oars ease navy plan to set aside brass (13, 4 words)
SAVE AS YOU EARN (government-operated savings scheme in which regular deductions are made from one’s earnings; plan to set aside brass) Anagram of (loose) OARS EASE NAVY SAVE AS YO EARN* |
U | SAVE AS YOU EARN | |
Son catches laggards (6)
SNAILS (sluggish people; laggards) S (son) + NAILS (catches) S NAILS |
SNAILS | ||
Perhaps lied to get a change of heart in embrace (4)
SNOG (embrace) SONG (a lied) with the central letters (heart) ON swapped (change) to form SNOG SNOG |
SNOG | ||
Samsung Galaxy Series initially saturates, maybe (4)
SOGS (soaks; saturates) SGS (first letters [initially] of each of SAMSUNG, GALAXY and SERIES) SGS |
O | SOGS | |
Old-fashioned figure immediately gets a return of gold (6)
STATUA (obsolete [old fashioned] term for STATUE [a representation of a human or animal form in the round – figure]) STAT (immediately) + AU (chemical symbol for gold) reversed (return) STAT UA< |
STATUA | ||
Voting indicators wrong prior to metropolitan being surrounded by active people (12)
SWINGOMETERS (devices which shows the direction and extent of the current swing of the counted votes in an election) SIN (wrong) + (MET [METropolitan] contained in [being surrounded by] GOERS [active people]) SIN GO (MET) ERS |
W | SWINGOMETERS | |
Symbol embracing saint in method of organisation (6)
SYSTEM (method of organisation) SYM (symbol) containing (embracing) ST (saint) SY (ST) M |
E | SYSTEM | |
Spanish soldiers in erotic romps (6)
TERCIO (an infantry regiment, originally Spanish) Anagram of (romps) EROTIC TERCIO* |
TERCIO | ||
Round paintings on display in the heart of Klondike (5)
TONDI (circular paintings) ONDI (hidden word forming the central letters of [on display in the heart of] KLONDIKE) ONDI |
T | TONDI | |
Forbidden territory not united (4)
TREF (forbidden as food, not kosher) TURF (territory) excluding (not) U (united) TRF |
E | TREF | |
African carrier’s temperature? Enough said, according to Will (6)
TSETSE (the TSETSE fly is a carrier of sleeping sickness disease in Africa) T (temperature) + SESE (Shakespearean [according to Will] word for ‘enough said’) T SESE |
T | TSETSE | |
Salt turning over European salt? (5)
URATE (salt of uric acid) (E [European] + TAR (sailor; salt]) all reversed (turning over) (RAT E)< alternatively the definition could be ‘salt’ at the end of the clue parsed as TAR (salt) reversed (turning over) + E (European) – RAT< E |
U | URATE |
Empty grid style puzzles are very much my favourite, as I always enjoy a bit of Sherlock Holmes style deduction. This was all very cleverly done, I thought, with the two alternative summations coming from the same set of thirteen letters. Some very good clues too, all very enjoyable indeed.
Lots of thanks to Eclogue and duncanshiell. Very satisfying and much enjoyed after a slow start here — I got the 13-letter answers and then took an unaccountably long time to crack HOLINESSES, which placed them and allowed grid fill to begin. The invocation of the commutative law was clear enough, but I half-expected some final surprise or Easter egg from the positioning of the 13 and still wonder whether I’m missing some significance in the finger of fate having pointed to the word DARE.
With the help of a friend (and after a long time contemplating), I used the same approach for the final endgame but appear to have miscounted the cells as I thought the 13th clue was NOWT, which made more sense to me as 13+NOWT = 12+1 = 11+2 ! (Though I still didn’t like it much as solution). DARE I say it, maybe the setter miscounted the cells as well?
Otherwise a very enjoyable puzzle with an ingenious placement of letters – the anagram might be “well known” but it was new to me, so I found it very neat. Thank you all.
Arnold @ 3
That’s an interesting suggestion and one that made me double check whether I had got the 13 in the grid in the right place. I also looked to see whether NOWT was the thirteenth alphabetical clue, but it isn’t.
FWIW, I went with DARE too, though only after several miscounts. 🙂 Nice puzzle, though I had no idea what the commutability stuff was about.
This was a very well-constructed puzzle, and an excellent example of a jigsaw, a type of puzzle that I often used to struggle with. I was pleased to be able to start the grid quite early on when I had both of the 10-letter answers and two of the three 13-letter ones. I enjoyed working out which letters were lacking in the wordplay, some of them proving quite tricky.
The endgame was short and spectacular. Not knowing exactly how to proceed, I just read my circled letters down the grid and then across the grid. As it happens, I already knew that amazing equality TWELVE + ONE = ELEVEN + TWO, but I didn’t see it coming until ELEVEN revealed itself. A clever construction, and a very good puzzle overall with a good set of clues and an apt title. I had 13 DARE.
Thanks Eclogue and duncanshiell.
An enjoyable solve and gridfill, but I didn’t get the endgame, and even when it was pointed out to me I was a bit baffled. I had been expecting the shaded word to be thematic, but just shading Dare because it was clue 13 was a bit disappointing.
A pretty fast start for me, with all but one of the 10-, 12, & 13-letter entries solved straight away. No major hiccups, and an enjoyable smooth ride – and a reminder of the 11+2=12+1 quirk with English number-names. Thanks go to Eclogue & Duncan. (I inserted 13 in row 2, column 8, as did most others.)
Really enjoyable and challenging solve, but as I entered the 13 (in the wrong place, natch) I was pretty sure I must be missing the point (I was; I saw only the ‘twelve plus one’, not the other – very clever). Thanks to Eclogue and Duncan.
I guess we’ll have to wait until Saturday’s paper to find out where 13 was meant to go!
I hope there’s more to the endgame here. The problem is that the entering the number 13 can’t, as far as I can see, be said to “demonstrate the commutability of these letters” as required in the instructions. You don’t have to read them both ways to get to thirteen – one or the other will do. What the number 13 shows is the sum, not the commutability. The fact that you can only enter the number with an extremely sharp pencil or draughtsman’s pen doesn’t help.
All in all I hope we’re all missing something. Around the D of “dare” are various hopeful looking combinations – “are”, “one”, “the”, “same” (though not “and”), “nowt” of course, “two” backwards etc, but I can’t make any of them work. If the tiny 13 really is all there is, I’d call this a brilliant puzzle with a bad endgame.
Herb @11
Thanks for your comment on that sentence in the preamble. I actually thought that the use of the word ‘commutability’ was reasonable. Something is ‘commutable’ (not to be confused with the mathematical term ‘commutative’) simply if it can be exchanged with something equivalent. Naturally, the setter did not wish to refer to the two different ways of reading the same letters that we had to discover for ourselves. Each reading is commutable into the other in two ways: (1) by reordering the letters (a trivial result) and (2) by extracting the meanings of the words and symbols and coming up with the same answer – a ‘number’ that we illustrate (or ‘demonstrate’) in the grid.
Take that Spinal tap
Bet your marshalls dont go past 11!
The Saturday paper simply said “we need to insert 13 for DARE” so we’re none the wiser. I’d email John H to elucidate but I’m not sure I can be sufficiently bothered 🙂