Sunday, April 28, 2013

The Book of all Books

If I were stranded on a deserted island, and could have only one book, the choice would be an easy one for me. I would pick my unabridged dictionary. Why, you ask? Well, there are many reasons. For starters, an unabridged dictionary (UD) is so much more than just a dictionary. The UD that I have is filled with so much more than just words.

The first section of my UD is an introduction. It gives the reader an outline of the history of the English language, a guide to pronunciation, a key to pronunciation and a list of abbreviations used within the dictionary. I find this information interesting as well as useful.

After the intro comes the meat of the dictionary – the words! I have been known to read my dictionary just for fun. I like finding obscure words and using them with people I don't like. This allows me to feel superior while, hopefully, making the recipient feel inadequate and slightly stupid. This can be a fun filled activity for any rainy afternoon.

As I write this, my dictionary is sitting on the sofa next to me. The urge to open the dictionary and pick a random word is more than I can take. The winner today is bantling: 1. A young child; a brat. 2. a foundling; a bastard. 3. figuratively, an immature product, as of an author or artist. Funny how random frequently doesn't seem random. Ah, but I digress.

After the “words” section of my UD (all 2129 pages) comes the supplements. The true beauty of an UD are the supplements. My particular UD has 19 supplements, plus a full color world atlas. Granted, seeing that my UD is from 1979, many of the countries shown on these maps no longer exist, but they are useful for history projects (or to just peruse for the fun of it – another activity that I find immensely enjoyable). Many of the supplements are dictionaries in and of themselves. Two of my favorites are A Dictionary of Noted Names in Fiction, Mythology, Legend ( I have gotten a lot of mileage out of this section when it comes to naming pets), and A Dictionary of Foreign Words and Phrases (I have gotten a lot of mileage out of this section by using information found here in letters to people I don't like).

Other supplements include Abbreviations Commonly Used in Writing and Printing, Special Signs and Symbols, Forms of Address and Practical Business Mathematics. While I find the first three to be interesting and useful, the last can be used to build a fire to attract nearby ships and airplanes (I'm still on that island).

Other parts of the supplements section include The Declaration of Independence, The Constitution of the United States, all the Presidents, Vice-Presidents and Cabinet Members of the United States, A History of Canada (who cares), Air Distances between Principal U.S. Cities, Principal Geographic Features of the World and Commercial and Financial Terms (this last one is obviously more fodder for the rescue fire).

As you can see, my UD is packed full of useful information which can provide hours and hours of engaging diversion. But the real reason I would pick this as my one and only book on that deserted island is this; every book ever written is contained in its pages. The idea that every book I've ever read and loved is there, in my UD, hidden within its 2129 pages, is something that fills me with the wonder of possibility. I can't think of a better way to while away the days, weeks, months, or years that I might have to fill if I really were stranded on that elusive island.

As I wrap up this missive, my eyes travel once again to my companion sitting on the sofa next to me. What the hell – just one more word (this is one of my favorite games (you probably already guessed that)). The last word for the day is...queachy, 1. shaking; moving, yielding or trembling under the feet, as moist or boggy ground. 2. thick; bushy.

1 comment:

  1. This is what I would call a 'conceit' essay--that doesn't mean you're unduly proud, but I know you are already reaching for a dictionary to find the literary meaning. A conceit is a classic and traditional approach to a personal essay and you are in very good company, starting with the Father of the Personal Essay, Montaigne.

    Anyway, you take your conceit and run and run with it, squeezing every possible drop of juice, exploring every imaginable angle. Your reader is utterly unconvinced that this is the one book he would like to have with him, but is perfectly willing to concede the force of the conceit for the writer and the force and fun she brings to elaborating it.

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