Reading the OED by Ammon Shea

I usually avoid reading books about reading books. To let someone else translate a book for you is like letting him chew and swallow your food for you, too. It's just not as satisfying as doing it yourself. Of course, most books about books are meant to point us to the original sources eventually anyway; very few of them stand alone on their own merits. Shea's goal is also to get us to read the Oxford English Dictionary (OED), but his book, Reading the OED -- half personal essay collection, half mini-lexicon -- is itself a pleasure to peruse.

The charm of Reading the OED comes mostly from its author. Shea is the kind of character one writes books about. He began reading dictionaries at the age of ten and has supported that habit by working, in turns, as a street musician in Paris, a gondolier in San Diego, and a furniture mover in New York City. He connects to his readers as a reader, sharing personal anecdotes about all those things we who really love books experience: the tactile pleasures of books and coffee, headache and eye strain from reading too much, library culture, and the relationship dynamic of merging and eventually separating books with one's partner. Most importantly, Shea addresses the most important question in every reader's mind, "Am I the only one who enjoys this experience of reading in this way?" Shea assures us that no, we are not, and the solitary act of reading because much less lonely. After all, as Shea realizes, "You do not need to bring the book out into the world -- the world comes to you, through the book" (154).

Shea spent 12 months reading the 20 volumes of the OED (2nd ed. published in 1989). He's written Reading the OED to show the fruits of his labors, breaking the book into 26 alphabetical chapters, each with some of his favorite words and definitions. Here are some gems from the collection (with paraphrased meanings):

acnestis n. that spot on your back you can't reach to scratch

balter v. to dance clumsily

cachinnator n. someone who laughs too loud or too much

cimicine adj. smelling like bugs

dyspathy n. the antithesis of sympathy

erozable adj. readily influenced by flattery

elucubration n. studying or writing by candlelight

empleomania n. a compulsion to hold public office

fard v. to conceal facial blemishes with cosmetics

fornate v. to spend money that one has not yet earned

gaum v. to stare vapidly

gound n. that gunk the corners of your eyes a.k.a eye boogers

jehu n. a fast or reckless driver

jentacular adj. of or pertaining to breakfast

kandedort n. an awkward situation

lant v. to add urine to ale, in order to make it stronger

obdormition n. the falling asleep of a limb

opsigamy n. marrying late in life

pissupprest n. the holding in of urine

queaning n. association with women of immodest character

quisquilious adj. or the nature of garbage or trash

quomodocunquize v. to make money in any way possible

rapin n. an unruly art student

yepsen n. the amount that can be held in two hands cupped together, also the two cupped hands themselves

zoilus n. an envious critic

These words show that there is a term for everything, and they do make me itch to crack open the OED myself and find some more, which is exactly what Shea wants us to do with his book. He wants us to stop thinking about the OED as a dust-collector and realize it for what it is: the centerpiece of our living, changing language.



Shea, Ammon. Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages. New York: Penguin, 2008.