Thoughtful Vocabulary: Quiddity

Quiddity is such a strange and wonderful word. It comes from the Latin word “quid,” meaning, usually, “what.” And then it seems to have had the “-itas” suffix somewhere along the way which in Latin turns an adjective into a noun, making the new word Quidditas or, “whatness.”

And now we have quiddity, which means “the inherent nature or essence,” or more broadly a “distinct feature or peculiarity.” The word feels like a perfect combination of the two itself: we already have words like “essence” and “crux” that mean basically the same thing, but “quiddity” is itself such a peculiar word that it makes the essence in question that much more special and distinct. To put it another way: quiddity is what makes a thing what it is, and quiddity’s quiddity is its quiddity-goodness.

Let me take a break from talking non-sense to say why this word’s been on my mind. When you like writing stories, you spend a lot of time thinking about what works and doesn’t in every story you see. That’s subjective, of course. There will always be disagreement on what makes a book, film, or play “good” or “bad,” if we can ever even agree on what those two words mean. And while thinking about the quiddity of a story, the smallest bit that represents the whole, is even more subjective, it feels worthwhile to try. Even if you can’t quite pinpoint it, you have to understand the story well to even begin to search.

So let’s outline some examples.

The quiddity of Star Wars has to be an igniting lightsaber. There are a million other things that help make the franchise so popular, but there’s something about the humming, growling sound of ignition and the bright glowing blade dramatically unfolding that just feels like adventure. Everyone involved in the initial lightsaber design deserves an A+ forever.

The quiddity of something like Batman is a little more variable, but if I had to boil it down, I would describe it like this: it is night in the city, and we are looking at a strange crime scene (victims that are smiling Joker-grins, frozen, or Riddled with question marks). Then, emerging from the darkness, there are the two pointy ears of the Batsuit. The strangeness is key here (you don’t need Batman to solve a tax fraud case), but it can also be just about anything. As long as it is strange, and night, and mysterious, Batman is going to Batman the hell out of it.

Harry Potter was a little harder for me to pin down. I kind of just wanted to say the John Williams theme, but the books didn’t need that to become insanely popular, so back to the drawing board. The sentence: the quiddity was Quidditch sounds like I’m casting a spell, but Quidditch was always one of the weakest parts of the series, and I’ll die on that hill.

No, when it comes down to it, the quiddity of Harry Potter is the Great Hall: the thousand candles floating in the air, the hundreds of students talking and laughing at their tables, and the impossible amount of good food. I would go so far as to say you don’t even need the professors up at the front ready to foreshadow that book/movie’s conflict. The Great Hall is the center of the franchise because the whole point is that Hogwarts needs to feel like home, for Harry and for the readers. When you’re home, people are excited you’re there. When you’re home, you feel safe, or at least safer than you did outside. When you’re home, you know you’re home. The books made millions of readers and viewers feel like they were coming back to something special, and you truly felt it when the Great Hall opened up. Everything else was negotiable.

And there you have it. I’ve cleared up all the higgledy-piggeldy about quiddity in this vicinity with some rapidity and solidity (at least to the best of my ability) and I hope it’s of some utility!