You’ve probably seen it. Maybe on a scrap of paper, a random Reddit thread, or—most likely—staring back at you from a New York Times Connections grid. It looks like a typo. Or maybe some weird, modernist poetry. Abel able a bell.
It’s the kind of phrase that makes your brain itch. Honestly, at first glance, it feels like one of those "Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo" linguistic traps designed to make you feel illiterate. But there is a method to the madness.
Most people come across these three terms together because of a specific brand of wordplay that has taken over the internet in recent years. It isn’t just a tongue twister. It’s a masterclass in how we process language, homophones, and anagrams.
The NYT Connections Chaos
If you're here because you got stuck on the March 25th puzzle, join the club. That specific game was a nightmare for a lot of regular players. The words Abel, Able, Bale, and Bela (often paired with the "Clear as a bell" clue) formed a perfect storm of confusion.
Why? Because they all sound identical or look nearly identical.
The "Abel Able" duo is a classic case of homophones—words that sound the same but have different meanings. Abel is the biblical son of Adam who met a grim end at the hands of his brother Cain. Able is just an adjective meaning you've got the capacity to do something.
But when you throw a bell into the mix, you’re moving into the territory of "Clear as..." idioms. This is where the New York Times editors love to mess with you. They want you to see "Abel" and "Able" and think they belong together because they sound the same. They do. But they also belong together because they are anagrams.
Wait.
Actually, look closer. A-B-E-L and A-B-L-E. They use the exact same letters. Then you see Bale (like hay) and Bela (like the legendary actor Bela Lugosi). It's a closed loop of four-letter combinations that leaves your head spinning.
Why Our Brains Struggle with This
Language is weird.
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Basically, your brain uses a process called "lexical access" to figure out what a word means. When you see Abel, your brain immediately checks your internal dictionary. If you grew up with Sunday school, you think of a shepherd. If you’re a fan of The Weeknd (Abel Tesfaye), you think of pop music.
But when you see Abel and Able side-by-side, your brain's "auto-correct" kicks in. It tries to find a pattern. Are they synonyms? No. Are they related? Sorta.
In the world of competitive word games, this is known as a "red herring." The phrase Abel able a bell acts as a linguistic decoy. You want to group them by sound, but the puzzle might want you to group them by spelling. Or you want to group them by spelling, but the puzzle wants you to find the hidden idiom.
The "Clear As" Factor
Let’s talk about that third part: a bell.
It’s part of a very specific set of English similes.
- Clear as a bell.
- Clear as crystal.
- Clear as day.
- Clear as mud.
When you're looking at a grid of 16 words, and "Abel" and "Able" are sitting there, your eyes naturally gravitate toward them. You think, "Okay, these are definitely a pair." But if the category is "Clear as [Blank]," then a bell is the only one that actually fits the logic of the idiom.
It’s a brutal trick. You’ve got the homophone connection pulling you one way and the idiom pulling you the other. Honestly, it’s why word games are more about psychology than vocabulary.
Is There a Deeper Meaning?
Some people try to find deep, esoteric connections between these words. They’ll point out that in Hebrew, the name Abel (Hevel) actually means "vapor" or "breath." It implies something fleeting.
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If you want to get really philosophical, you could argue that being able (having power) is as fleeting as Abel (the first person to die in the biblical narrative). And a bell? Well, bells toll for the dead.
Is that what the puzzle makers intended? Probably not. They usually just want to see you sweat. But it’s a cool way to look at it if you’re into the symbolic side of linguistics.
Actionable Tips for Word Puzzles
If you find yourself staring at a group of words like Abel, Able, and A Bell again, here is how you should actually break it down:
- Say them out loud. If they sound identical, check if they are homophones. If they are, they might be part of a "Words that sound like..." category.
- Scramble the letters. Write them down on a piece of paper. If they use the same four or five letters, they are anagrams. Abel and Able are classic examples of this.
- Check for "Fill-in-the-blank." If a word feels "incomplete" (like "A Bell" or "Mud"), try putting it at the end of a common phrase. "Clear as..." is a favorite for most editors.
- Look for the odd man out. Usually, if you have three words that fit perfectly and one that "kinda" fits, the "kinda" one is the trap.
Don't let the similar sounds trip you up. Most of the time, the simplest explanation—that the words are just playing with your eyes and ears—is the right one.
The next time you see these words in a game, remember that Abel is a person, Able is a skill, and a bell is a sound. They aren't the same thing, no matter how much they sound like it.
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Start by practicing with common anagram pairs like Stop/Post or Meat/Team to train your brain to see the letters, not just the words. This makes the "Abel/Able" traps much easier to spot before you waste a guess.