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Hefty Barriers to Entry - The New York Times

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SATURDAY PUZZLE — We have a really fun, skillful construction today, by Tracy Gray and Jeff Chen, a couple of veteran puzzlemakers who have worked together before, one of whom has his hands on buckets of data and presumably compiles interesting words the way Dr. Frankenstein hoarded body parts. Its seven debuts are mainly on the edges but there are loads of clever bits and pieces everywhere, a few congenial misdirects, and maybe a sticking point or two for the casual Saturday solver. Mainly, I was pleasantly diverted by various cultural references and nostalgia, like this bunch, a very early version of the “entertaining from quarantine” family.

I know we’re restating the obvious when we talk about how the days just, you know, but I still have a clear enough memory of the old days to spring upon CRAZY BUSY when reading 1A, no crosses needed. Most of the crosses were easy validation of that guess. (I did want “hard” pants, not CAMO, but for some reason every yoga clothier is slapping camouflage in various shades on their lounge pants and leggings this year. It’s a slightly ominous combination.) I thought “Starter” would have a follower like “apartment” (or “marriage”), but MAIN COURSE was more logical; I also wanted “says no” instead of SAVORS (talk about nostalgic), and “aeron” for WEBER (nostalgic and misremembered).

25A: The Boston Red Stockings became the Beaneaters, then the Doves, then the BRAVES; then they moved to Atlanta.

55A: This is such a great throwaway expression that I’ve been hearing and using all of my life without much thought; when someone’s poker face shifts ever so slightly, it is said that she BATS AN EYE. I always assumed “bat” to mean something like blink, and it seems logical that it takes its meaning from a variation of “beat,” the way a bird beats its wings to fly. I love how the idiom can also refer to vigorous-sounding flirtation.

12D: This is a debut, and just a funny thing to think about over all. I’m sorry if you’re battle scarred from stuffing cats into boxes; I know they can be real meanies. The way the clue was worded reminded me of “Memoir From Antproof Case” as well, go figure. Oh, the entry here is CAT CARRIER. CAT CARRIER.

May your CAT be as docile as a BEANIE BABY, and may your CAT CARRIER serve with the strength of STEEL DOORS!

25D: This is another debut, in its plural form (and the singular hasn’t been in the puzzle for several years). For some reason I had a hard time putting this together without a lot of crosses; something about “Shortcomings” implies personal responsibility, whereas BLINDSPOTS seem like gaps in vision that just happen. An interesting clue.

42D: In a puzzle stuffed with deliciousness, this clue is the gilded cherry on top. ROGET, of thesaurus renown, teaches “substitute” words, i.e., synonyms. A word-nerd joke nonpareil.

Tracy Gray: Many thanks to Jeff for collaborating with me on my very first themeless puzzle and for helping me reach my goal of hitting for the cycle!

My vision was to have a grid with 12 multiword phrases of 9- to 10-letter lengths, swaths of white space, and an uncluttered pattern of black squares. CRAZY BUSY came out of my mouth in a telephone conversation just before filling, so I used this fun 9-letter entry as my starting point.

Having no experience with filling a themeless, I took off like gangbusters in the NW and SW with no real constraints to stop me. “So far, so good,” I thought, as I enthusiastically ventured into the other sections. “Don’t underestimate the center,” Jeff cautioned by email, as I started to encounter constraints. He suggested we start filling the larger NE section first, then the smaller SE section, and finish by merging the different sections through the center with 15- and 33-Down as our crossword linchpins. We collaborated back and forth in earnest, section after section, email after email, looking for the best phrases and fill and avoiding the gluey bits.

Jeff wrote the majority of the clues, especially the ones with wordplay, whereas I pretty much stuck to the words that had straight-out-of-Wikipedia cluing. Will and the editing team did a fabulous job, but I was happy to see that one of my favorite clues that Jeff wrote made the cut: NAPA [Where many stop and smell the roses].

Enjoy!

Jeff Chen: Ever since Michael Bennett’s introduction in which he declared his true allegiance, I’ve wanted to get WAKANDA into the crossword.

It was a pleasure helping Tracy achieve her goal of “hitting for the cycle.” She’s hard-working, responsive, and a great listener.

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Hefty Barriers to Entry - The New York Times
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