What is a Squib, Really? And Where Would Rowling Have Met the Word?

There are few English words-about-words as fun as the Greek derived ‘onomatopoeic,’ ‘name-making’ literally, ‘word that sounds like its meaning’ in common use. ‘Buzz’ and ‘Hiss’ come immediately to mind. ‘chuckle,’ ‘grunt,’ and ‘snore’ are personal favorites (see this site for a list of 150 others). It’s a shame that onomatopoeic does not sound like its meaning but, in being something of a tongue twister and spelling-bee challenge-round item, at least it has an exotic feel appropriate to its subject. According to traditional lore, the names given to things in the Garden of Eden by Adam, primordial Man as Image of God, all reflected the beings named in their sound.

I confess that I assumed the word for barely magical witches and wizards born into magical families in J. K. Rowling’s Wizarding World, the folk she calls ‘Squibs,’ were given that name because of its onomatopoeic source in fireworks; per the Harry Potter Lexicon invaluable online resource, a squib is English idiom for “a dud firework that will not ignite properly.” It sounds like its meaning (as does “dud”) and a reader can feel in it the disappointment of magical parents when their child turns out not to have the gift that will make them full members of their community.

I learned this morning, however, that a squib is not a dud firework, or wasn’t originally though it may have that meaning today, and that it is mentioned more than once in one of Rowling’s known literary influences.

I subscribe to Dimitra Fimi’s ‘A Kind of Elvish Craft’ Substack site because I am a big fan of her work. She is a first tier scholar, as in ‘Professor of Fantasy and Children’s Literature at the University of Glasgow,’ generous to a fault in answering questions from all quarters, and she is blessed with a delightful sense of humor. Professor Fimi is best known as a leading figure in Tolkien Studies and all things fantasy and mythology but she is also a Serious Striker and Rowling fan. Check out Reading Rowling as Myth Maker and Myth Re-Writer: A Conversation with Dr Dimitra Fimi and ‘Sleep Tight, Evangeline,’ Miniature Psalters, and the Head of Persephone: A Conversation with Dimitra Fimi to discover what a treasure-chest she is for all who want to understand Rowling’s artistry and meaning better.

She has recently embarked on a series of posts about The Lord of the Rings that she calls ‘The Slow LotR Re-Read.’ As she explained in the first post of the series on ‘Tolkien Reading Day:’

This year, I am engaged in a slow (really slow!) re-read of The Lord of the Rings, taking copious notes and ruminating on tiny details. I have, naturally, read The Lord of the Rings numerous times (I used to keep a tally, but I’ve now lost count!). First, for pleasure, then as part of my PhD research, later for teaching at undergraduate and postgraduate level, and to suppport supervision of PhD projects, and again and again as I have worked on various publications (from writing my first Tolkien book, to composing numerous articles and essays over the years, and to offering comments/suggestions to strengthen other scholars’ work during various editorial projects).

So, what makes this read different? Two things. First, it is regular, almost daily. But, secondly, and most importantly, it is very slow. I am reading no more than a page each time, sometimes lingering on one or two paragraphs only. This is, of course, both a luxury and a challenge. The natural instinct of most readers is to read on, to find out what will happen next, to follow the adventures of the protagonist(s) as they unfold over many pages and chapters. Slowing down is difficult. Taking the time to savour every word, sentence, and paragraph, before even getting to the level of pages or chapters, is counter-intuitive. We do it naturally as readers, of course, when we hit a particularly striking sentence, or a memorable turn of phrase, or a “quotable” couple of lines. Then we stop and ponder.

What I am trying to experiment with, though, is doing this stopping and thinking for every word, sentence, and paragraph in The Lord of the Rings. Each time I am pondering Tolkien’s choice of lexis, diction and syntax. I am also ruminating on his craft: his use of dialogue vs. narration, his construction of the narrator’s voice, his gradual fashioning of setting, his deliberate choice of imagery, his devising of characterization, his handling of story vs. plot. And, at the same time, I am stopping to consider details that I have missed before. I am still discovering new things in a text I’ve read so many times, by paying attention to elements of description, or spoken utterances, or tone of voice.

As I begin my slow-re-read of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone for a book whose chapters will be posted at the Hogwarts Professor Substack page, I confess to being simultaneously excited and intimidated by Professor Fimi’s project. But I’m reading every entry in this series closely, though only a Tolkien casual reader and admirer, because there is gold in each slow-reading she does. And the occasional delightful find for a Rowling Re-Reader!

This morning it was in Dr Fimi’s reflections on The Fireworks of Gandalf. It turns out that a ‘Squib’ is not a dud firework or wasn’t originally:

The first firework terms we get in the text appear as soon as Gandalf has arrived at Bag End, frustrating the expectations of the hobbit-children who follow him:

When the old man, helped by Bilbo and some dwarves, had finished unloading, Bilbo gave a few pennies away; but not a single squib or cracker was forthcoming, to the disappointment of the onlookers.

These two terms, “squib” and “cracker”, are pretty old ones, and are both included in the Oxford English Dictionary (OED):

• squib: “A common species of firework, in which the burning of the composition is usually terminated by a slight explosion”.
• cracker: “Any of various types of fireworks or other small explosives, esp. one which makes a loud, sharp sound, or a series of loud, sharp sounds, when it explodes”.

According to the OED, the earliest occurrence in the English language of each of these two firework terms is in the Elizabethan play The History of Orlando Furioso (c. 1591), Robert Greene’s loose adaptation of Ariosto’s Orlando Furioso (1532). Interestingly, they appear together as a sort of standard phrase. In the play, Orlando is trying to find out whether the figure in front of him is his beloved, Angelica, enquiring whether the sun shines upon the light in her eyes. The response comes from Tom, who is dressed as Angelica, so it is supposed to be rather comic: “Yes, yes, with squibs and crackers brauely [i.e. bravely].”

“Squibs and crackers” seems to have become a collective term for various kinds of fireworks or flashing lights, or a metaphor for mirth, humour, or satire. The two terms appear together again in one of Jonathan Swift’s poems satirising an English ironmaster:

Then furious he begins his march,
Drives rattling o’er a brazen arch:
With squibs and crackers arm’d, to throw
Among the trembling crowd below.

Similarly, the “squibs and crackers” phrase appears in the titles of two 19th-century collections of satirical/humorous poems:

• Squibs and crackers, serious, comical and tender (1812), by Jasper Smallshot (pen name of Major Ware)
• Squibs and Crackers: In Verse Or Worse (partly in the Lancashire Dialect) (1895), by T. S. Fairclough

“Squibs and crackers” also appears as a nonsensical term for trousers (or breeches) in the humorous folktale “Master of Masters”, collected and published in English Fairy tales, by Joseph Jacobs in 1895 (see Figure 3 below). Tolkien may well have known this fairy-tale collection and/or this particular story, but it seems to me that the “stock” phrase “squibs and crackers” was well-established anyway, and Tolkien may have picked it up from anywhere (including common usage).

There’s much, much more in the post about Tolkien’s (and Gandalf’s) fireworks which I urge you to read in full (and to subscribe to ‘A Kind of Elvish Craft‘ to catch up and receive every entry in this series). But what does this history of the word Squib tell Rowling Readers?

For one thing, there is no mention on the Harry Potter Lexicon ‘Squib’ entry of the word’s appearance and meaning in The Lord of the Rings, an important text by a known influence on Rowling’s Wizarding World, or of Orlando Furioso, a work crowded with hippogriffs. It seems the word Squib is still in usage, perhaps as ‘dud,’ an onomatopoeic source for the name of the Dursley’s first born and decidedly non-magical boy. The linkage of ‘squib’ and ‘dud’ in that sense may be another layer of playful jibe at the heroically-Muggle Dursleys who think their Dudders anything but a disappointment.

But Squib apparently used to mean, rather than a failed firework, a kind that “terminated by a slight explosion” rather than no explosion at all. This fits precisely with the magic of the Squib who, in Rowling’s work, again per the Lexicon, has some magical powers:

A Squib is not a Muggle. Born to a wizarding family, a Squib has such a low level of magical power that he or she is essentially unable to do any magic at all. However, while a Squib cannot cast spells, he or she can apparently see magical beings such as poltergeists, though not dementors.

That’s a nuanced distinction, sure, between next-to-none and none.  I think, though, that it captures the disappointment a magical family might have in producing a non-magical child. They expect and want roman candles, barkers, and thunderclaps (all in Gandalf’s inventory) and they get instead the least of fire-crackers with its “slight explosion.” A dud, in contrast, is a non-explosion, which, if Squib means dud and was used for these children, has a much darker coloration.

Which is the kind of nuance and care in word-choice I think is a quality found in Rowling’s work.

Thank you to Dr Fimi for this illuminating explosion of my misconception and for all the food-for-thought this morning I’ve been enjoying over my second breakfast!