The Collaborative International Dictionary of English v.0.48:

Saga \Sa"ga\ (s[=a]"g[.a]), n.; pl. Sagas (-g[.a]z). [Icel.,
   akin to E. saw a saying. See Say, and cf. Saw.]
   A Scandinavian legend, or heroic or mythic tradition, among
   the Norsemen and kindred people; a northern European popular
   historical or religious tale of olden time.
   [1913 Webster]

         And then the blue-eyed Norseman told
         A saga of the days of old.               --Longfellow.
   [1913 Webster]

The Collaborative International Dictionary of English v.0.48:

Sagum \Sa"gum\, n.; pl. Saga. [L. sagum, sagus; cf. Gr. ?. Cf.
   Say a kind of serge.] (Rom. Antiq.)
   The military cloak of the Roman soldiers.
   [1913 Webster]

WordNet (r) 3.0 (2006):

saga
    n 1: a narrative telling the adventures of a hero or a family;
         originally (12th to 14th centuries) a story of the families
         that settled Iceland and their descendants but now any
         prose narrative that resembles such an account

V.E.R.A. -- Virtual Entity of Relevant Acronyms (February 2016):

SAGA
       Standards und Architekturen fuer eGovernment Anwendungen (IDA)


The Jargon File (version 4.4.7, 29 Dec 2003):

saga
 n.

    [WPI] A cuspy but bogus raving story about N random broken people.

    Here is a classic example of the saga form, as told by Guy L. Steele:

        Jon L. White (login name JONL) and I (GLS) were office mates at MIT for
        many years. One April, we both flew from Boston to California for a
        week on research business, to consult face-to-face with some people at
        Stanford, particularly our mutual friend Richard P. Gabriel (RPG).

        RPG picked us up at the San Francisco airport and drove us back to Palo
        Alto (going logical south on route 101, parallel to El Camino Bignum
        ). Palo Alto is adjacent to Stanford University and about 40 miles
        south of San Francisco. We ate at The Good Earth, a ?health food?
        restaurant, very popular, the sort whose milkshakes all contain honey
        and protein powder. JONL ordered such a shake ? the waitress claimed
        the flavor of the day was ?lalaberry?. I still have no idea what that
        might be, but it became a running joke. It was the color of raspberry,
        and JONL said it tasted rather bitter. I ate a better tostada there
        than I have ever had in a Mexican restaurant.

        After this we went to the local Uncle Gaylord's Old Fashioned Ice Cream
        Parlor. They make ice cream fresh daily, in a variety of intriguing
        flavors. It's a chain, and they have a slogan: ?If you don't live near
        an Uncle Gaylord's ? MOVE!? Also, Uncle Gaylord (a real person) wages a
        constant battle to force big-name ice cream makers to print their
        ingredients on the package (like air and plastic and other non-natural
        garbage). JONL and I had first discovered Uncle Gaylord's the previous
        August, when we had flown to a computer-science conference in Berkeley,
        California, the first time either of us had been on the West Coast.
        When not in the conference sessions, we had spent our time wandering
        the length of Telegraph Avenue, which (like Harvard Square in
        Cambridge) was lined with picturesque street vendors and interesting
        little shops. On that street we discovered Uncle Gaylord's Berkeley
        store. The ice cream there was very good. During that August visit JONL
        went absolutely bananas (so to speak) over one particular flavor,
        ginger honey.

        Therefore, after eating at The Good Earth ? indeed, after every lunch
        and dinner and before bed during our April visit ? a trip to Uncle
        Gaylord's (the one in Palo Alto) was mandatory. We had arrived on a
        Wednesday, and by Thursday evening we had been there at least four
        times. Each time, JONL would get ginger honey ice cream, and proclaim
        to all bystanders that ?Ginger was the spice that drove the Europeans
        mad! That's why they sought a route to the East! They used it to
        preserve their otherwise off-taste meat.? After the third or fourth
        repetition RPG and I were getting a little tired of this spiel, and
        began to paraphrase him: ?Wow! Ginger! The spice that makes rotten meat
        taste good!? ?Say! Why don't we find some dog that's been run over and
        sat in the sun for a week and put some ginger on it for dinner?!? ?
        Right! With a lalaberry shake!? And so on. This failed to faze JONL; he
        took it in good humor, as long as we kept returning to Uncle Gaylord's.
        He loves ginger honey ice cream.

        Now RPG and his then-wife KBT (Kathy Tracy) were putting us up (putting
        up with us?) in their home for our visit, so to thank them JONL and I
        took them out to a nice French restaurant of their choosing. I
        unadventurously chose the filet mignon, and KBT had je ne sais quoi du
        jour, but RPG and JONL had lapin (rabbit). (Waitress: ?Oui, we have
        fresh rabbit, fresh today.? RPG: ?Well, JONL, I guess we won't need any
        ginger!?)

        We finished the meal late, about 11PM, which is 2AM Boston time, so
        JONL and I were rather droopy. But it wasn't yet midnight. Off to Uncle
        Gaylord's!

        Now the French restaurant was in Redwood City, north of Palo Alto. In
        leaving Redwood City, we somehow got onto route 101 going north instead
        of south. JONL and I wouldn't have known the difference had RPG not
        mentioned it. We still knew very little of the local geography. I did
        figure out, however, that we were headed in the direction of Berkeley,
        and half-jokingly suggested that we continue north and go to Uncle
        Gaylord's in Berkeley.

        RPG said ?Fine!? and we drove on for a while and talked. I was drowsy,
        and JONL actually dropped off to sleep for 5 minutes. When he awoke,
        RPG said, ?Gee, JONL, you must have slept all the way over the bridge!?
        , referring to the one spanning San Francisco Bay. Just then we came to
        a sign that said ?University Avenue?. I mumbled something about working
        our way over to Telegraph Avenue; RPG said ?Right!? and maneuvered some
        more. Eventually we pulled up in front of an Uncle Gaylord's.

        Now, I hadn't really been paying attention because I was so sleepy, and
        I didn't really understand what was happening until RPG let me in on it
        a few moments later, but I was just alert enough to notice that we had
        somehow come to the Palo Alto Uncle Gaylord's after all.

        JONL noticed the resemblance to the Palo Alto store, but hadn't caught
        on. (The place is lit with red and yellow lights at night, and looks
        much different from the way it does in daylight.) He said, ?This isn't
        the Uncle Gaylord's I went to in Berkeley! It looked like a barn! But
        this place looks just like the one back in Palo Alto!?

        RPG deadpanned, ?Well, this is the one I always come to when I'm in
        Berkeley. They've got two in San Francisco, too. Remember, they're a
        chain.?

        JONL accepted this bit of wisdom. And he was not totally ignorant ? he
        knew perfectly well that University Avenue was in Berkeley, not far
        from Telegraph Avenue. What he didn't know was that there is a
        completely different University Avenue in Palo Alto.

        JONL went up to the counter and asked for ginger honey. The guy at the
        counter asked whether JONL would like to taste it first, evidently
        their standard procedure with that flavor, as not too many people like
        it.

        JONL said, ?I'm sure I like it. Just give me a cone.? The guy behind
        the counter insisted that JONL try just a taste first. ?Some people
        think it tastes like soap.? JONL insisted, ?Look, I love ginger. I eat
        Chinese food. I eat raw ginger roots. I already went through this
        hassle with the guy back in Palo Alto. I know I like that flavor!?

        At the words ?back in Palo Alto? the guy behind the counter got a very
        strange look on his face, but said nothing. KBT caught his eye and
        winked. Through my stupor I still hadn't quite grasped what was going
        on, and thought RPG was rolling on the floor laughing and clutching his
        stomach just because JONL had launched into his spiel (?makes rotten
        meat a dish for princes?) for the forty-third time. At this point, RPG
        clued me in fully.

        RPG, KBT, and I retreated to a table, trying to stifle our chuckles.
        JONL remained at the counter, talking about ice cream with the guy
        b.t.c., comparing Uncle Gaylord's to other ice cream shops and
        generally having a good old time.

        At length the g.b.t.c.: said, ?How's the ginger honey?? JONL said, ?
        Fine! I wonder what exactly is in it?? Now Uncle Gaylord publishes all
        his recipes and even teaches classes on how to make his ice cream at
        home. So the g.b.t.c.: got out the recipe, and he and JONL pored over
        it for a while. But the g.b.t.c.: could contain his curiosity no
        longer, and asked again, ?You really like that stuff, huh?? JONL said,
        ?Yeah, I've been eating it constantly back in Palo Alto for the past
        two days. In fact, I think this batch is about as good as the cones I
        got back in Palo Alto!?

        G.b.t.c.: looked him straight in the eye and said, ?You're in Palo
        Alto!?

        JONL turned slowly around, and saw the three of us collapse in a fit of
        giggles. He clapped a hand to his forehead and exclaimed, ?I've been
        hacked!?

    [My spies on the West Coast inform me that there is a close relative of the
    raspberry found out there called an ?ollalieberry? ?ESR]

    [Ironic footnote: the meme about ginger vs. rotting meat is an urban
    legend. It's not borne out by an examination of medieval recipes or period
    purchase records for spices, and appears full-blown in the works of Samuel
    Pegge, a gourmand and notorious flake case who originated numerous food
    myths. The truth seems to be that ginger was used to cover not rot but the
    extreme salt taste of meat packed in brine, which was the best method
    available before refrigeration. ?ESR]


The Free On-line Dictionary of Computing (30 December 2018):

saga

    (WPI) A cuspy but bogus raving story about N
   random broken people.

   Here is a classic example of the saga form, as told by Guy
   Steele (GLS):

   Jon L. White (login name JONL) and I (GLS) were office mates
   at MIT for many years.  One April, we both flew from Boston
   to California for a week on research business, to consult
   face-to-face with some people at Stanford, particularly our
   mutual friend Richard Gabriel (RPG).

   RPG picked us up at the San Francisco airport and drove us
   back to Palo Alto (going logical south on route 101,
   parallel to El Camino Bignum).  Palo Alto is adjacent to
   Stanford University and about 40 miles south of San Francisco.
   We ate at The Good Earth, a "health food" restaurant, very
   popular, the sort whose milkshakes all contain honey and
   protein powder.  JONL ordered such a shake - the waitress
   claimed the flavour of the day was "lalaberry".  I still have
   no idea what that might be, but it became a running joke.  It
   was the colour of raspberry, and JONL said it tasted rather
   bitter.  I ate a better tostada there than I have ever had in
   a Mexican restaurant.

   After this we went to the local Uncle Gaylord's Old Fashioned
   Ice Cream Parlor.  They make ice cream fresh daily, in a
   variety of intriguing flavours.  It's a chain, and they have a
   slogan: "If you don't live near an Uncle Gaylord's - MOVE!"
   Also, Uncle Gaylord (a real person) wages a constant battle to
   force big-name ice cream makers to print their ingredients on
   the package (like air and plastic and other non-natural
   garbage).  JONL and I had first discovered Uncle Gaylord's the
   previous August, when we had flown to a computer-science
   conference in Berkeley, California, the first time either of
   us had been on the West Coast.  When not in the conference
   sessions, we had spent our time wandering the length of
   Telegraph Avenue, which (like Harvard Square in Cambridge) was
   lined with picturesque street vendors and interesting little
   shops.  On that street we discovered Uncle Gaylord's Berkeley
   store.  The ice cream there was very good.  During that August
   visit JONL went absolutely bananas (so to speak) over one
   particular flavour, ginger honey.

   Therefore, after eating at The Good Earth - indeed, after
   every lunch and dinner and before bed during our April visit
   --- a trip to Uncle Gaylord's (the one in Palo Alto) was
   mandatory.  We had arrived on a Wednesday, and by Thursday
   evening we had been there at least four times.  Each time,
   JONL would get ginger honey ice cream, and proclaim to all
   bystanders that "Ginger was the spice that drove the Europeans
   mad!  That's why they sought a route to the East!  They used
   it to preserve their otherwise off-taste meat."  After the
   third or fourth repetition RPG and I were getting a little
   tired of this spiel, and began to paraphrase him: "Wow!
   Ginger!  The spice that makes rotten meat taste good!"  "Say!
   Why don't we find some dog that's been run over and sat in the
   sun for a week and put some *ginger* on it for dinner?!"
   "Right!  With a lalaberry shake!"  And so on.  This failed to
   faze JONL; he took it in good humour, as long as we kept
   returning to Uncle Gaylord's.  He loves ginger honey ice
   cream.

   Now RPG and his then-wife KBT (Kathy Tracy) were putting us up
   (putting up with us?) in their home for our visit, so to thank
   them JONL and I took them out to a nice French restaurant of
   their choosing.  I unadventurously chose the filet mignon, and
   KBT had je ne sais quoi du jour, but RPG and JONL had lapin
   (rabbit).  (Waitress: "Oui, we have fresh rabbit, fresh
   today."  RPG: "Well, JONL, I guess we won't need any
   *ginger*!")

   We finished the meal late, about 11 P.M., which is 2 A.M
   Boston time, so JONL and I were rather droopy.  But it wasn't
   yet midnight.  Off to Uncle Gaylord's!

   Now the French restaurant was in Redwood City, north of Palo
   Alto.  In leaving Redwood City, we somehow got onto route 101
   going north instead of south.  JONL and I wouldn't have known
   the difference had RPG not mentioned it.  We still knew very
   little of the local geography.  I did figure out, however,
   that we were headed in the direction of Berkeley, and
   half-jokingly suggested that we continue north and go to Uncle
   Gaylord's in Berkeley.

   RPG said "Fine!" and we drove on for a while and talked.  I
   was drowsy, and JONL actually dropped off to sleep for 5
   minutes.  When he awoke, RPG said, "Gee, JONL, you must have
   slept all the way over the bridge!", referring to the one
   spanning San Francisco Bay.  Just then we came to a sign that
   said "University Avenue".  I mumbled something about working
   our way over to Telegraph Avenue; RPG said "Right!" and
   maneuvered some more.  Eventually we pulled up in front of an
   Uncle Gaylord's.

   Now, I hadn't really been paying attention because I was so
   sleepy, and I didn't really understand what was happening
   until RPG let me in on it a few moments later, but I was just
   alert enough to notice that we had somehow come to the Palo
   Alto Uncle Gaylord's after all.

   JONL noticed the resemblance to the Palo Alto store, but
   hadn't caught on.  (The place is lit with red and yellow
   lights at night, and looks much different from the way it does
   in daylight.)  He said, "This isn't the Uncle Gaylord's I went
   to in Berkeley!  It looked like a barn!  But this place looks
   *just like* the one back in Palo Alto!"

   RPG deadpanned, "Well, this is the one *I* always come to when
   I'm in Berkeley.  They've got two in San Francisco, too.
   Remember, they're a chain."

   JONL accepted this bit of wisdom.  And he was not totally
   ignorant - he knew perfectly well that University Avenue was
   in Berkeley, not far from Telegraph Avenue.  What he didn't
   know was that there is a completely different University
   Avenue in Palo Alto.

   JONL went up to the counter and asked for ginger honey.  The
   guy at the counter asked whether JONL would like to taste it
   first, evidently their standard procedure with that flavour,
   as not too many people like it.

   JONL said, "I'm sure I like it.  Just give me a cone."  The
   guy behind the counter insisted that JONL try just a taste
   first.  "Some people think it tastes like soap."  JONL
   insisted, "Look, I *love* ginger.  I eat Chinese food.  I eat
   raw ginger roots.  I already went through this hassle with the
   guy back in Palo Alto.  I *know* I like that flavour!"

   At the words "back in Palo Alto" the guy behind the counter
   got a very strange look on his face, but said nothing.  KBT
   caught his eye and winked.  Through my stupor I still hadn't
   quite grasped what was going on, and thought RPG was rolling
   on the floor laughing and clutching his stomach just because
   JONL had launched into his spiel ("makes rotten meat a dish
   for princes") for the forty-third time.  At this point, RPG
   clued me in fully.

   RPG, KBT, and I retreated to a table, trying to stifle our
   chuckles.  JONL remained at the counter, talking about ice
   cream with the guy b.t.c., comparing Uncle Gaylord's to other
   ice cream shops and generally having a good old time.

   At length the g.b.t.c. said, "How's the ginger honey?"  JONL
   said, "Fine!  I wonder what exactly is in it?"  Now Uncle
   Gaylord publishes all his recipes and even teaches classes on
   how to make his ice cream at home.  So the g.b.t.c. got out
   the recipe, and he and JONL pored over it for a while.  But
   the g.b.t.c. could contain his curiosity no longer, and asked
   again, "You really like that stuff, huh?"  JONL said, "Yeah,
   I've been eating it constantly back in Palo Alto for the past
   two days.  In fact, I think this batch is about as good as the
   cones I got back in Palo Alto!"

   G.b.t.c. looked him straight in the eye and said, "You're *in*
   Palo Alto!"

   JONL turned slowly around, and saw the three of us collapse in
   a fit of giggles.  He clapped a hand to his forehead and
   exclaimed, "I've been hacked!"

   [My spies on the West Coast inform me that there is a close
   relative of the raspberry found out there called an
   "ollalieberry" - ESR]

   [Ironic footnote: it appears that the meme about ginger vs.
   rotting meat may be an urban legend.  It's not borne out by an
   examination of mediaeval recipes or period purchase records
   for spices, and appears full-blown in the works of Samuel
   Pegge, a gourmand and notorious flake case who originated
   numerous food myths. - ESR]

   [Jargon File]

   (1994-12-08)