Carmelita Montiel, a twenty-year-old virgin, had just bathed in orange-blossom water and was strewing rosemary leaves on Pilar Ternera’s bed when the shot rang out. Aureliano Jose had been destined to find with her the happiness that Amaranta had denied him, to have seven children, and to die in her arms of old age, but the bullet that entered his back and shattered his chest had been directed by a wrong interpretation of the cards. Captain Aquiles Ricardo, who was really the one destined to die that night, did indeed die, four hours before Aureliano Jose. As soon as the shot was heard, he was brought down by two simultaneous bullets whose origin was never established and a shout of many voices shook the night.

“Long live the Liberal party! Long live Colonel Aureliano Buendia!”

At twelve o’clock, when Aureliano Jose had bled to death, Carmelita Montiel found that the cards showing her future were blank.

One Hundred Years of Solitude – Gabriel Garcia Marquez

So, anyway, every time I’m in Barnes & Nobles, I walk by the Faulkner area, and every time, I stop, and am suckered into grabbing The Sound And The Fury off the shelf and reading the back, because one time, I did, and I discovered this little phrase: “…the man-child Benjy…” I didn’t like what little bits of Faulkner I’ve read, because he sounds like Hemingway to me, and I don’t want his barns, or his bulls – keep away – but at the same time, my fascination with the word “man-child” may one day tip the scales and I will purchase, at full, retail price, this book, just to explore Man-Child Benjy.

The natural conclusion would be the addition of suffix “-child” to Merriam-Webster. We’ll ask all pregnant women whether their children are girl-childs, or a boy-childs? In spring, the sheep have lamb-childs. Look, there go a mother duck and all her duck-childs.