Genre Fiction
![Pip Williams - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B086W2YJZQ.jpg)
The Dictionary of Lost Words: A Novel
"Delightful . . . [a] captivating and slyly subversive fictional paean to the real women whose work on the Oxford English Dictionary went largely unheralded."-The New York Times Book Review
"A marvelous fiction about the power of language to elevate or repress."-Geraldine Brooks, New York Times bestselling author of People of the Book
Esme is born into a world of words. Motherless and irrepressibly curious, she spends her childhood in the Scriptorium, an Oxford garden shed in which her father and a team of dedicated lexicographers are collecting words for the very first Oxford English Dictionary. Young Esme's place is beneath the sorting table, unseen and unheard. One day a slip of paper containing the word bondmaid flutters beneath the table. She rescues the slip and, learning that the word means "slave girl," begins to collect other words that have been discarded or neglected by the dictionary men.
As she grows up, Esme realizes that words and meanings relating to women's and common folks' experiences often go unrecorded. And so she begins in earnest to search out words for her own dictionary: the Dictionary of Lost Words. To do so she must leave the sheltered world of the university and venture out to meet the people whose words will fill those pages.
Set during the height of the women's suffrage movement and with the Great War looming, The Dictionary of Lost Words reveals a lost narrative, hidden between the lines of a history written by men. Inspired by actual events, author Pip Williams has delved into the archives of the Oxford English Dictionary to tell this highly original story. The Dictionary of Lost Words is a delightful, lyrical, and deeply thought-provoking celebration of words and the power of language to shape the world.
WINNER OF THE AUSTRALIAN BOOK INDUSTRY AWARD
"A marvelous fiction about the power of language to elevate or repress."-Geraldine Brooks, New York Times bestselling author of People of the Book
Esme is born into a world of words. Motherless and irrepressibly curious, she spends her childhood in the Scriptorium, an Oxford garden shed in which her father and a team of dedicated lexicographers are collecting words for the very first Oxford English Dictionary. Young Esme's place is beneath the sorting table, unseen and unheard. One day a slip of paper containing the word bondmaid flutters beneath the table. She rescues the slip and, learning that the word means "slave girl," begins to collect other words that have been discarded or neglected by the dictionary men.
As she grows up, Esme realizes that words and meanings relating to women's and common folks' experiences often go unrecorded. And so she begins in earnest to search out words for her own dictionary: the Dictionary of Lost Words. To do so she must leave the sheltered world of the university and venture out to meet the people whose words will fill those pages.
Set during the height of the women's suffrage movement and with the Great War looming, The Dictionary of Lost Words reveals a lost narrative, hidden between the lines of a history written by men. Inspired by actual events, author Pip Williams has delved into the archives of the Oxford English Dictionary to tell this highly original story. The Dictionary of Lost Words is a delightful, lyrical, and deeply thought-provoking celebration of words and the power of language to shape the world.
WINNER OF THE AUSTRALIAN BOOK INDUSTRY AWARD
Editorial Reviews
"This remarkable novel tries to rectify a glaring oversight in the historical accounts of the first Oxford English Dictionary-the contributions of women . . . without whom the English language wouldn't have evolved as fully and colorfully as it has."-Boston
"Enchanting, sorrowful, and wonderfully written, the book is a one-of-a-kind celebration of language and its importance in our lives. A must-have."-Library Journal (starred review)
"In Williams's exuberant, meticulously researched debut, the daughter of a lexicographer devotes her life to an alternative dictionary. . . . Williams's feminist take on language will move readers."-Publishers Weekly
"Williams turns history as we know it on its head in this delightful debut, spotlighting those women and their contributions, using the awe-inspiring power of words themselves to illuminate them."-Newsweek
"[A] masterfully written, beautiful first novel that tells a fascinating story of language, love and loss."-Historical Novel Society
"The writing is glorious; I dog-eared many pages as I read, marking passages that helped me see words in a new way."-Manhattan Book Review (starred review)
"The novel you've been waiting for without even realizing it . . . Williams will convince you of a word's importance in a most lovely and charismatic story."-Bookreporter
"A lexicographer's dream of a novel, this is a lovely book to get lost in, an imaginative love letter to dictionaries."-Booklist
"Williams provides readers with detailed background and biographical information pointing to extensive research about the [Oxford English Dictionary] and its editors, many of whom appear as characters in Esme's life. The result is a satisfying amalgam of truth and historical fiction."-Kirkus Reviews
"In the annals of lexicography, no more imaginative, delightf...
"Enchanting, sorrowful, and wonderfully written, the book is a one-of-a-kind celebration of language and its importance in our lives. A must-have."-Library Journal (starred review)
"In Williams's exuberant, meticulously researched debut, the daughter of a lexicographer devotes her life to an alternative dictionary. . . . Williams's feminist take on language will move readers."-Publishers Weekly
"Williams turns history as we know it on its head in this delightful debut, spotlighting those women and their contributions, using the awe-inspiring power of words themselves to illuminate them."-Newsweek
"[A] masterfully written, beautiful first novel that tells a fascinating story of language, love and loss."-Historical Novel Society
"The writing is glorious; I dog-eared many pages as I read, marking passages that helped me see words in a new way."-Manhattan Book Review (starred review)
"The novel you've been waiting for without even realizing it . . . Williams will convince you of a word's importance in a most lovely and charismatic story."-Bookreporter
"A lexicographer's dream of a novel, this is a lovely book to get lost in, an imaginative love letter to dictionaries."-Booklist
"Williams provides readers with detailed background and biographical information pointing to extensive research about the [Oxford English Dictionary] and its editors, many of whom appear as characters in Esme's life. The result is a satisfying amalgam of truth and historical fiction."-Kirkus Reviews
"In the annals of lexicography, no more imaginative, delightf...
Readers Top Reviews
GiftEDW. A. RA Wi
I loved this book. Interesting and atmospheric, spanning decades. The story of Esme and her passion for words. I was intrigued by the premise, that words can be lost and the inclusion of words in the dictionary was primarily influenced by gender. A book that makes you think is a real treasure.
Sharon GordonGift
I have fallen in love with words and I loved every word in this book. The desire to collect all the words in the English language must have been overwhelming, something I never considered before. My dictionary (not the complete version) has been dusted off and now has prime position on my desk. I will honor it!
Faye FiferMary Li
I would have given this book a zero if I could of. The book starts out slow and you hope it will pick up but the author apparently did not feel the need to include quality in her word choice. Why she felt she had to use filthy language and the female body to help the book move along is sad. This is NOT a historical fiction. I have read many historical fiction books as it is my love. Very disappointing book!
Kym FullertonFaye
I picked this novel for our bookclub choice this month. We are four mums all with a love of literature and the English language in all its complexities. Just as I was to pick something else, this book was put on my path for some reason to be explored. We all loved it. So much so for me, that I ended up writing 17 pages of notes to take to book club for discussion. Sad, but poignant. Frustrating at how women have been dismissed in so many ways. Inspirational and encouraging. May women continue to rise in their confidence that they are worthy of equality. And words, oh how I will look more closely at words and make some up of my own. Thank you for the dedication it took to get this book completed for people like me to enjoy.
LoMoKym Fullerton
Gosh. An excellent, excellent book. An historical novel - it follows the compilation of the Oxford English Dictionary, with fictional main characters, interspersed with some real people. The protagonist is the daughter of one of the lexicographers and as she grows up, she deals with the huge sexism rampant in that era (Victorian England). There's suffragist and suffragette action, there's lexicography drama, there's World War I. There are births and deaths, love and friendship, all told with rich and beautiful characters. I did cry a lot. I'd be interested in whether it appeals to non-lexicographer folk too, because there is a LOT of lexicographer action. I loved it. Very well researched.
Short Excerpt Teaser
May 1887
Scriptorium. It sounds as if it might have been a grand building, where the lightest footstep would echo between marble floor and gilded dome. But it was just a shed, in the back garden of a house in Oxford.
Instead of storing shovels and rakes, the shed stored words. Every word in the English language was written on a slip of paper the size of a postcard. Volunteers posted them from all over the world, and they were kept in bundles in the hundreds of pigeon-holes that lined the shed walls. Dr. Murray was the one who named it the Scriptorium-he must have thought it an indignity for the English language to be stored in a garden shed-but everyone who worked there called it the Scrippy. Everyone but me. I liked the feel of Scriptorium as it moved around my mouth and landed softly between my lips. It took me a long time to learn to say it, and when I finally did nothing else would do.
Da once helped me search the pigeon-holes for scriptorium. We found five slips with examples of how the word had been used, each quotation dating back little more than a hundred years. All of them were more or less the same, and none of them referred to a shed in the back garden of a house in Oxford. A scriptorium, the slips told me, was a writing room in a monastery.
But I understood why Dr. Murray had chosen it. He and his assistants were a little like monks, and when I was five it was easy to imagine the Dictionary as their holy book. When Dr. Murray told me it would take a lifetime to compile all the words, I wondered whose. His hair was already as grey as ash, and they were only halfway through B.
Da and Dr. Murray had been teachers together in Scotland long before there was a scriptorium. And because they were friends, and because I had no mother to care for me, and because Da was one of Dr. Murray's most trusted lexicographers, everyone turned a blind eye when I was in the Scriptorium.
The Scriptorium felt magical, like everything that ever was and ever could be had been stored within its walls. Books were piled on every surface. Old dictionaries, histories and tales from long ago filled the shelves that separated one desk from another, or created a nook for a chair. Pigeon-holes rose from the floor to the ceiling. They were crammed full of slips, and Da once said that if I read every one, I'd understand the meaning of everything.
In the middle of it all was the sorting table. Da sat at one end, and three assistants could fit along either side. At the other end was Dr. Murray's high desk, facing all the words and all the men who helped him define them.
We always arrived before the other lexicographers, and for that little while I would have Da and the words all to myself. I'd sit on Da's lap at the sorting table and help him sort the slips. Whenever we came across a word I didn't know, he would read the quotation it came with and help me work out what it meant. If I asked the right questions, he would try to find the book the quotation came from and read me more. It was like a treasure hunt, and sometimes I found gold.
"This boy had been a scatter-brained scapegrace from his birth." Da read the quotation from a slip he had just pulled out of an envelope.
"Am I a scatter-brained scapegrace?" I asked.
"Sometimes," Da said, tickling me.
Then I asked who the boy was, and Da showed me where it was written at the top of the slip.
"Ala-ed-Din and the Wonderful Lamp," he read.
When the other assistants arrived I slipped under the sorting table.
"Be quiet as a mouse and stay out of the way," Da said.
It was easy to stay hidden.
At the end of the day I sat on Da's lap by the warmth of the grate and we read "Ala-ed-Din and the Wonderful Lamp." It was an old story, Da said. About a boy from China. When I asked if there were others, he said there were a thousand more. The story was like nothing I had heard, nowhere I had been, and no one I knew of. I looked around the Scriptorium and imagined it as a genie's lamp. It was so ordinary on the outside, but on the inside full of wonder. And some things weren't always what they seemed.
The next day, after helping with the slips, I pestered Da for another story. In my enthusiasm I forgot to be as quiet as a mouse; I was getting in his way.
"A scapegrace will not be allowed to stay," Da warned, and I imagined being banished to Ala-ed-Din's cave. I spent the rest of the day beneath the sorting table, where a little bit of treasure found me.
...
Scriptorium. It sounds as if it might have been a grand building, where the lightest footstep would echo between marble floor and gilded dome. But it was just a shed, in the back garden of a house in Oxford.
Instead of storing shovels and rakes, the shed stored words. Every word in the English language was written on a slip of paper the size of a postcard. Volunteers posted them from all over the world, and they were kept in bundles in the hundreds of pigeon-holes that lined the shed walls. Dr. Murray was the one who named it the Scriptorium-he must have thought it an indignity for the English language to be stored in a garden shed-but everyone who worked there called it the Scrippy. Everyone but me. I liked the feel of Scriptorium as it moved around my mouth and landed softly between my lips. It took me a long time to learn to say it, and when I finally did nothing else would do.
Da once helped me search the pigeon-holes for scriptorium. We found five slips with examples of how the word had been used, each quotation dating back little more than a hundred years. All of them were more or less the same, and none of them referred to a shed in the back garden of a house in Oxford. A scriptorium, the slips told me, was a writing room in a monastery.
But I understood why Dr. Murray had chosen it. He and his assistants were a little like monks, and when I was five it was easy to imagine the Dictionary as their holy book. When Dr. Murray told me it would take a lifetime to compile all the words, I wondered whose. His hair was already as grey as ash, and they were only halfway through B.
Da and Dr. Murray had been teachers together in Scotland long before there was a scriptorium. And because they were friends, and because I had no mother to care for me, and because Da was one of Dr. Murray's most trusted lexicographers, everyone turned a blind eye when I was in the Scriptorium.
The Scriptorium felt magical, like everything that ever was and ever could be had been stored within its walls. Books were piled on every surface. Old dictionaries, histories and tales from long ago filled the shelves that separated one desk from another, or created a nook for a chair. Pigeon-holes rose from the floor to the ceiling. They were crammed full of slips, and Da once said that if I read every one, I'd understand the meaning of everything.
In the middle of it all was the sorting table. Da sat at one end, and three assistants could fit along either side. At the other end was Dr. Murray's high desk, facing all the words and all the men who helped him define them.
We always arrived before the other lexicographers, and for that little while I would have Da and the words all to myself. I'd sit on Da's lap at the sorting table and help him sort the slips. Whenever we came across a word I didn't know, he would read the quotation it came with and help me work out what it meant. If I asked the right questions, he would try to find the book the quotation came from and read me more. It was like a treasure hunt, and sometimes I found gold.
"This boy had been a scatter-brained scapegrace from his birth." Da read the quotation from a slip he had just pulled out of an envelope.
"Am I a scatter-brained scapegrace?" I asked.
"Sometimes," Da said, tickling me.
Then I asked who the boy was, and Da showed me where it was written at the top of the slip.
"Ala-ed-Din and the Wonderful Lamp," he read.
When the other assistants arrived I slipped under the sorting table.
"Be quiet as a mouse and stay out of the way," Da said.
It was easy to stay hidden.
At the end of the day I sat on Da's lap by the warmth of the grate and we read "Ala-ed-Din and the Wonderful Lamp." It was an old story, Da said. About a boy from China. When I asked if there were others, he said there were a thousand more. The story was like nothing I had heard, nowhere I had been, and no one I knew of. I looked around the Scriptorium and imagined it as a genie's lamp. It was so ordinary on the outside, but on the inside full of wonder. And some things weren't always what they seemed.
The next day, after helping with the slips, I pestered Da for another story. In my enthusiasm I forgot to be as quiet as a mouse; I was getting in his way.
"A scapegrace will not be allowed to stay," Da warned, and I imagined being banished to Ala-ed-Din's cave. I spent the rest of the day beneath the sorting table, where a little bit of treasure found me.
...
