Staged at the Brattle: the War of the Words

Not that anyone could accuse this city of lacking logophiles -- that's "lovers of words," if you have to ask. But where could word warriors go to engage in spirited logomachy? OK, non-wordsmiths, that's " battle of words."

Enter the "Define-a-Thon," in which contestants get a definition and have to match it with the correct word. The event was the brainchild of a handful of editors at Houghton Mifflin , the hometown publisher, who teamed up with the Brattle Theatre and the Harvard Book Store. On a recent Thursday evening , they staged what they billed as Boston's first war of the words.

A couple hundred packed the theater to witness some 40 intrepid verbivores square off. Divided into two groups of 20, most contestants chatted with friends, spouses, kids, and colleagues -- a little pep talk before taking the stage at 8 p.m. A few crammed, flipping the pages of the book each received after handing over a $5 entrance fee for the fund-raiser: "100 Words Every Word Lover Should Know." Some sat in a meditative silence, their self-possession embodying sangfroid -- and hinting they might know the word's etymology to boot. One soul paced the aisle, removing and affixing the "Define Me As" nametag that he and his fellow contestants wore.

"What a perfect event for Cambridge and Somerville," said Ann Medeiros , 28, a data manager living in Davis Square and seated in the front row. "So many people get a kick out of all of this intellectual stuff. It's like the SATs for adults -- with an audience."

Medeiros said she was there to cheer on her friend who had a yen for Greek and Scrabble. Describing herself as "technical-minded," Medeiros decided to pass on participation, but admitted to beating her friend in Scrabble now and then.

A representative of the Brattle Theatre apologized for the absence of beer the event's ad had promised, before introducing Steve Kleinedler , senior editor of the American Heritage Dictionary and the event's emcee. Kleinedler, 40, explained that there would be straight-up definition questions and some on antonyms and synonyms. Players would select their answers from the four choices he provided.

No single age, race, gender, or sartorial sense defined the Define-a-Thoners: they appeared as diverse as the language they loved. Their collective tension melted away when Kleinedler's opening salvo arrived like a softball: "upheaval." The batting practice continued throughout the first round: postpone, porcupine, paramount, veranda, restrain. A question about the meaning of "intermission" prompted some wag to whisper to his buddy, "Does this guy know we're in Cambridge?" Kleinedler knew exactly where he was.

After punching out only one of 20 folks in the first round with a question about what makes up 4/5 of the earth's atmosphere --nitrogen, not ozone -- Kleinedler held up the Level-2 cards. "We don't want to be here all night," he said. Sluice, pernicious, vortex, tintinnabulation, penumbra -- the contestants proved worthy. Primogenitor, xylem, medulla -- three exited stage left.

Some comic relief arrived in the person of Nelson Wong . The suave 25-year-old Harvard alum insisted on a "shout-out" to his girlfriend before answering his round one question -- successfully. When Wong returned, he speculated that another correct answer would prefigure a "fun night tonight." Kleinedler served up an unplanned double entendre: "Liquid medicine rubbed on the skin to relieve pain or stiffness." Wong waited for the crowd's laughter to end. " Liniment," said he. "Correct," said Kleinedler.

A talented dozen hung in there until Kleinedler unleashed his Level-3 cards, apologizing in advance for any mispronunciation of the recherché selections. "Tonsorial" failed to stump, but what followed left only five: four men, one woman. Arete, witenagemot, and neoplasia narrowed the field to two: Andy and Brandy . Apodictic undid Andy, leaving Brandy with a word that had many erstwhile Boston punk-rockers biting their once-pierced tongues: rathskeller.

During intermission, John Overholt , one of the final five, expressed more relief than chagrin. "I'm just glad I avoided a head-to-head competition with my wife," said Overholt, 36, a former "Jeopardy!" champ who works at Harvard's Houghton Library . "She went out earlier than I did, but to a much harder word then the one, neoplasia, I missed." Though Overholt said he didn't formally prepare for the evening's tilt, he offered that some recent library work on Samuel Johnson's landmark dictionary "maybe helped."

The second group of players demonstrated a slightly broader ken than the first as well as myriad expressions of contemplation: cocked eyebrows, tapping fingers, arms folded and akimbo, sizable sighs, and knowing grins. They forced Kleinedler deep into his Level-3 cards, handling deftly the hoarfrost, vexillology, quidnunc, and puissance he lobbed their way.

Alas, we were left with another battle of the sexes. An impressive 20-something "Defined As" Zach mistook a hallux for a whimbrel, leaving erudite Katherine to profit from her knowledge of glebe.

The championship showdown that followed seemed anticlimactic, as Katherine took the best out of five with three consecutive correct answers -- not guesses -- answers. Somehow the dictionary she received for winning the Define-a-Thon seemed redundant.

After her victory, Katherine Bryant , 36, an editor at Pearson , the media company, displayed a modesty tantamount to her word mastery. She called herself a generalist who loved collecting words and completing crossword puzzles. When complimented on her Define-a-Thon victory by a fellow contestant, Bryant thanked him. "It wasn't nearly as scary as a spelling bee," she said.

Ron Fletcher's favorite word remains "ineffable." You can reach him at fletcher@globe.com.