Written by: Margaret Devlin
What’s an eight-letter word to describe my relationship with crossword puzzles? Okay, honestly, it’s two words smushed together with a hyphen. No, the hyphen does not have its own box. Love-hate. That’s the word. Words. Yes, technically we would need nine boxes.
My grandmother fills out The Hartford Courant crossword with her coffee and cereal every morning, so for years, I would lean over my bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch to watch her carefully pencil in the answers. She occasionally asked for my input on a question, so I occasionally chimed in with an answer.
She once asked the name of the dad from The Lion King. “Mufasa,” fit perfectly. No big deal. It’s only my proudest moment.
Few joys compare to the simple satisfaction of bubbling in a crossword puzzle. The New York Times Mini has my heart, obviously. While I do not fill out The Mini every morning, I love my life a lot more on the days I do. Thank you, Joel Fagliano. Sincerely.
First launched in 2014, The Mini was created as an approachable entryway for beginners taking their first steps into the crossword puzzle world. It was easy, quick, satisfying. The lead crossword editor for The Times, Will Shortz, imagined novice puzzlers filling out The Mini during a free moment in their days (on the train, between meetings, waiting for microwaved leftovers) and finally discovering a love of crossword puzzles.
I love The Mini. Within a short minute or two, I feel accomplished and proud of myself for filling in the grid, almost like I could take on a larger puzzle. Unfortunately, larger puzzles do freak me out. Unlike my (very wise) grandmother, I take a pen to the page, so my once-perfect grid has columns scribbled out, and drawn over. I groan a lot. If I see a confusing question, my pen is capped, and I must take a break.
Speaking of breaks (how convenient), I took on The New Yorker’s Yule Log over winter break. The puzzle is part crossword, part holiday dessert, part horrific nightmare. I have included a photo (below) since it is also horrific to describe. The boxes wrap towards the center in a spiral while a second puzzle spirals from the inside out. Never in my life have I been more stressed while looking at a festive chocolate cake, “adorned with almond pinecones and marzipan mushrooms.” Word on the street is that Patrick Berry hates joy.
The first question put my guard down, too. “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina” Musical? Too easy! Type of Plastic used as a metonym for cinema? No. Please, no.
Working with a friend over several days, we somehow made it through the puzzle. My grandma’s a pro, and she never shied away from teamwork, so I felt comfortable asking for help. With our shared knowledge, my friend and I discovered answers we may not have otherwise known. Plus, the satisfaction at the end made it worth it. No groaning here.