The Dictionary of Lost Words

by Pip Williams

“But when we talk about her, she comes to life.” “Never forget that, Esme. Words are our tools of resurrection.”

“Words change over time, you see. The way they look, the way they sound; sometimes even their meaning changes. They have their own history.”

“Me needlework will always be here,” she said. “I see this and I feel…well, I don’t know the word. Like I’ll always be here.” “Permanent,” I said. “And the rest of the time?” “I feel like a dandelion just before the wind blows.”

“There’s no ‘just words’ for you, Essymay, ’specially if they end up in the trunk. What do they say?” “They say I wasn’t alone.”

It shouldn’t exist. Its meaning should be obscure and unthinkable. It should be a relic, and yet it was as easily understood now as at any time in history.

Our thinking was limited by convention (the most subtle but oppressive dictator). Please forgive our lack of imagination.

Your concern that some types of words, or words used by some types of people, will be lost to the future is really quite perceptive.

Frederick Furnivall.

but Frederick Furnivall was secretary of the Philological Society. The Dictionary was his idea.

“I don’t think so. I think sometimes the proper words mustn’t be quite right, and so people make new words up, or use old words differently.”

“Words are like stories, don’t you think, Mr. Sweatman? They change as they are passed from mouth to mouth; their meanings stretch or truncate to fit what needs to be said. The Dictionary can’t possibly capture every variation, especially since so many have never been written down—” I stopped, suddenly shy.

For my part, I think they add colour. A vulgar word, well placed and said with just enough vigour, can express far more than its polite equivalent.

“The Dictionary is a history book, Esme. If it has taught me anything, it is that the way we conceive of things now will most certainly change.

“It’s apathy that keeps the vote from women.” “Apathy.” Lizzie scoffed. “I reckon it’s more than that.”

“Choice would be a fine thing, but from where I stand things look much the same as they always have. If you’ve got choices, Esme, choose well.”

“Some words are more than letters on a page, don’t you think?” she said, tying the sash around my belly as best she could. “They have shape and texture. They are like bullets, full of energy, and when you give one breath you can feel its sharp edge against your lip. It can be quite cathartic in the right context.”

“A chip doesn’t stop it from holding tea,” Mrs. Lloyd had said.

The drone that had been filling my ears since She was born, the shade that had been drawn over my eyes, the dull feeling in my arms and legs and breasts—they lifted all at once. I could hear and see and feel with an intensity that stole my breath and frightened me. I shivered, suddenly cold. There was the faintest smell of coal smoke and the sounds of birds calling their own to roost, their songs as clear and distinct as church bells. My face was wet with loss and love and regret. And woven through it all there was a thread of shameful relief.

“It’s not about forgiveness, Essymay. We can’t always make the choices we’d like, but we can try to make the best of what we must settle for. Take care not to dwell.” She searched

“I reckon it derives from grief,” said Mabel. “From what we’ve lost and what we’ve never ’ad and never will. As I said, a woman’s lot. It should be in your dictionary. It’s too common not to be understood.”

They spoke their minds in words that suited them, and were reverent as I wrote their words on slips. These slips were precious to me, and I hid them in the trunk to keep them safe. But from what? Did I fear they would be scrutinised and found deficient? Or were those fears I had for myself?

Their words and their names would be lost as soon as I began to forget them.

“But what’s the point?” she said, picking a slip out of the trunk and looking at it. “Half the people who say these words will never be able to read them.” “Maybe not,” I said, heaving the trunk onto her bed. “But their words are important.”

it occurred to me that the intimidation I always felt might have been of my own creation.

How reassuring it must be to know how you should act: like having a definition of yourself written clearly in black type.

Bondmaid. It came back to me then, and I realised that the words most often used to define us were words that described our function in relation to others.

Which words would define me?

“I wouldn’t be that brave,” she said. It wasn’t an answer, but I might have said the same thing if I’d been honest with myself.

It pains me to think that any young woman would think such a thing because she is not being brutalised for her convictions.

You once made the observation that some words were considered more important than others simply because they were written down. You were arguing that by default the words of educated men were more important than the words of the uneducated classes, women among them.

Play

position you are good at, and let others play theirs.

It is context, Da had always said, that gives meaning.

“The poets will see to that. They have a way of adding nuance to the meaning of things.”

They all looked towards me, their expressions serious. Until the end of time, I thought. I blinked back tears and took the photograph.

Perhaps some things are not meant to be described—at

“It’s an interesting project, but it’s of no scholarly importance.” “And what would make it of scholarly importance?” “If it had been compiled by a scholar, for a start. Beyond that, it would have to be a topic of significance.”

“You are not the arbiter of knowledge, sir. You are its librarian.” I pushed Women’s Words across his desk. “It is not for you to judge the importance of these words, simply to allow others to do so.”

each week, she would talk to the ordinary, the illiterate, the forgotten, in order

“Words define us, they explain us, and, on occasion, they serve to control or isolate us. But what happens when words that are spoken are not recorded? What effect does that have on the speaker

Her lecture is titled ‘The Dictionary of Lost Words.’ ”

Amanda Capern