A.J. Jacobs - The Puzzler : One Mans Quest to Solve the Most Baffling Puzzles Ever, from Crosswords to Jigsaws to the Meaning of Life

One winter morning several years ago, I got an email with some ridiculously exciting news. Or so I thought.

The email was from a friend who informed me that the answer to 1-Down in that days New York Times crossword puzzle wasme.

The clue was A.J. _______, author of The Know-It-All.

My first reaction was This is the greatest moment of my life. My marriage and the births of my kids, yes, those were pretty good. But this! As a word nerd since childhood, this was the holy grail!

And then, a couple of hours later, I got another email that changed everything. It came from my brother-in-law. He congratulated me but went out of his way to point out that my name was featured in the Saturday edition of the New York Times puzzle. As crossword fans know, Saturday is the hardest puzzle of the week. Mondays is the easiest, with each days grid getting more and more difficult until Saturday, when the puzzle reaches peak impenetrability.

Saturday is the killer, the one with the most obscure clues, harder than Sunday. Were talking clues like Francisco Goyas ethnic heritage (Aragonese). Or the voice of the car in the sitcom My Mother the Car (Ann Sothern). Stuff no normal person knows.

So my brother-in-laws implicationor at least my interpretationwas that my Saturday appearance was the opposite of a compliment. Unlike a Monday or Tuesday mention, its actually proof that Im totally obscure, the very embodiment of irrelevance.

Dammit. I could see his point. No doubt this wasnt the most charitable interpretation, and my rational side knew I shouldnt let it tarnish my elation. But I couldnt help it. Im a master of focusing on the negative once its shown to me. Its like the arrow in the FedEx logo. I cant unsee it. My lifes highlight now had a galling asterisk.

Then, a couple of years later, my crossword adventure took another twist. I was on a podcast, and I told the tale of my emotional roller coaster.

Well, it turns out one of the people listening to the podcast was a New York Times crossword creator. God bless him, he decided to take pity on me and save me from my end-of-the-week shadows. He wrote a puzzle with me as the answer to 1-Across, and submitted it to run on a Tuesday. Legendary crossword editor Will Shortz let it through.

And that became the true greatest moment of my life. I know full well I dont belong in a Tuesday puzzle. Its where truly famous names like Biden and Gaga make their home. I was thrilled to sneak in as an interloper. I mean, its not Monday, but its more than I could have hoped.

I emailed the crossword creator, who has since become a friend, and thanked him. He said it was no problem. Though he admitted that, to compensate, he had to make the corresponding down clues super-easy, like TV Guide-crossword-puzzle easy. Im okay with that.

As I hinted, theres a reason my crossword cameos made me ecstatic beyond what is appropriate. Namely, Ive been crazy for puzzles all my life.

Partly I inherited this passion from my family. When my dad was in the army in Korea and my mom was stateside, theyd keep in touch by sending a puzzle back and forth, each filling out a clue or two per turn. Not the most efficient method but certainly romantic.

So I was introduced to crosswords early. But I wasnt monogamous when it came to puzzles. I embraced all kinds: mazes, secret codes, riddles, logic puzzles. As a kid who was not in danger of being recruited to varsity teams, nor burdened with a time-consuming dating schedule, I spent my spare time on puzzles. My bookshelf was filled with titles like Brain-busters or Brain-twisters or Brain-teasersanything involving mental sadism. I programmed mazes on my schools Radio Shack computer. I did hundreds of mix-and-matches in Games magazine. Puzzles were my solace.

My enthusiasm didnt wane as I grew older. Like my parents, I married a fellow puzzle lover. Its her job, in fact. My wife, Julie, works at a company that puts on scavenger hunts for corporations, as well as private events. Our weekends often involve escape rooms or games of Mastermind with our three sons. For my birthday a couple of years ago, my son Zane created an elaborate mental obstacle course that included Sudoku, Rubiks Cubes, and anagrams. It took me two weeks to crack, which didnt impress him. Ive even tried to recruit our dog, Stella, into the puzzle cult. I buy her these doggie puzzles where she has to flip open a latch to get her doggie treat. The manufacturer claims it will keep her canine brain stimulated, though Im guessing Stellas brain is mostly thinking Next time, asshole, just give me the peanut butter on a spoon.

After my appearance as 1-Down a few years back, I went from being an occasional crossword solver to a frequent one, perhaps unconsciously hoping Id reappear. I did the Times crossword every day. At first, I only solved a smattering of words in the harder puzzles. But eventually, after years of practice, I could reliably finish Saturdays puzzles.

My addiction became a problem. One day, I decided I wasnt getting enough accomplished in my life and I should quit all puzzles. I figured it would free up several hours every week. Who knows what I could get done? Maybe Id start a podcast or run a triathlon or build a barn!

The experiment was a failure. After two months, I relapsed, and I relapsed hard. Puzzles once again began to mark the start and end of my day. Now, as soon as I wake up, I check my iPhone for the New York Times Spelling Bee, a find-a-word game that is both compelling and maddening (What?! Youre telling me ottomen isnt a word? Then whats the plural of ottoman?!). Before going to sleep, I do Wordle and the Times crossword puzzle.

Since my relapse, Ive come to two important realizations about puzzles.

1) Im not a great puzzler.

I mean, Im okay. But as I started to meet real puzzlers, I got an insight into a whole other league. I realized Im like the guy who plays decent intramural basketball, but is no match for the LeBron Jameses and Kevin Durants.