A Heartrending Moment: Orthoepy and The OED

This month marks a regrettable turn of events in orthoepic history – the meaning of orthoepy changed in the ongoing online edition of the Oxford English Dictionary (OED). The two earlier print editions (1933, 1989) defined orthoepy as “correct, accepted, or customary pronunciation.” The “draft revision” of September 2010 shortens that, brutally, to “accepted or customary pronunciation.”

Excising the word correct probably gave the editor who did it a frisson, but it cut the very heart out of this venerable word. The ortho- in orthoepy comes from the Greek orthos, “right, correct,” and “correct pronunciation, or the study of correct pronunciation” has been the core meaning of orthoepy since the earliest English orthoepists compiled their dictionaries of pronunciation in the 18th century. Indeed, the expunging of correct from the online OED’s definition of orthoepy would suggest that there’s nothing, or should be nothing, normative about pronunciation. Yet, curiously, the September 2010 online draft revision does not alter the original definition of orthography: “correct or proper spelling.”

How is it that spelling can be correct or incorrect but pronunciation now cannot? When the OED’s editors get around to revising the entry for cacoepy, currently defined as “bad or erroneous pronunciation; opposed to orthoepy,” will they dilute it to “unaccepted or unusual pronunciation”?

While it’s the proper business of modern descriptive dictionaries to record accepted or customary pronunciations, it’s the proper business of orthoepists to examine what is accepted or customary and opine on what passes muster and what does not. Sometimes what has been accepted by some is objectionable to others: for example, neesh for niche, zoo-ology for zoology, the prissy s instead of the traditional sh in negotiate.

And sometimes what is customary for certain speakers strikes others as slovenly: for example, nucular for nuclear, pronounciation for pronunciation, liberry for library.

Modern dictionaries profess to record pronunciations used by “educated speakers” (if I only had a nickel for every time I’ve heard an “educated” speaker mispronounce a word!) but that’s a deceptively broad category. It comprises anyone who possesses the credentials of an education, from a high school diploma to a Ph.D., and within it there is substantial variation. To the educated person who aspires to be a careful speaker — one whose pronunciation has been arrived at not by imitation, affectation, or conjecture but by careful consideration and prudent choice — a list of pronunciations used by educated speakers is of little help. It conveys only how the word has been spoken, not how it might best be spoken. That is where the orthoepist comes in: as an interpreter and arbiter of correct and cultivated speech.

Standards change over time, of course, but what abides is the natural and admirable human desire to speak in a way that will not attract undue notice or derision. As traditional pronunciations fall into disuse, faddish variants surge to prominence, and the forces of ignorance and pomposity vie for recognition, the orthoepist draws a bold line in the sand and tries, as the English elocutionist John Walker said in his Critical Pronouncing Dictionary of 1791, “to tempt the lovers of their language to incline to the side of propriety,” and “give such a display of the analogies of the language as may enable every inspector to decide for himself.”

In my next post, I will attempt to give you a capsule history of orthoepy, from Walker and his contemporaries to the present. Meanwhile, as always, I welcome your comments and your suggestions for pronunciations to record.

We Love the Century Dictionary

O NE of our favorite parts of Wordnik is the Century Dictionary. With more than 530,000 definitions and discursive notes, it is the second-largest English-language dictionary ever published.


But the Century isn’t just big—it’s beautiful, too. To quote expert etymologist Anatoly Liberman, “The Century is one of the great reference works in American history (some would say the greatest).” In the Oxford History of English Lexicography, Thomas Herbst and Michael Klotz write that “it is a superb dictionary in many respects and still has much to offer to those interested in the vocabulary of the period. It was from the beginning a quixotic venture (as many new dictionaries are), and it occupies a singular place in American lexicography for its attempt to marry the highest form of the printers art with dictionary-making.”


The Century—despite having been available online as searchable images from the nice folks at Global Language, and in scanned and OCR (optical character recognition) versions at the Internet Archive and through Google Books—has been too little-known for too long. So we knew we wanted it to be a part of Wordnik in a format that was a little less archival and a little more useful, to give more people the joy of browsing through it.


We didn’t want to change the spirit of the original text, but we did want to make the Century a bit more readable. So we expanded thousands of abbreviations (such as mycol., priv., and Lett.) to their full forms (mycology, privative, and Lettish, in case you were curious). We also converted more than 240,000 pronunciations from the obsolete Century format (they had about a dozen different representations for schwa [ə]!) to the International Phonetic Alphabet.


Even though we had the entire Century keyed from scanned pages, instead of using OCR (for better accuracy) there are still some typos scattered through the text. If you see a typo in any entry, please do use the “Report a typo” link at the top of the page to let us know!


Other usability improvements are coming soon, but in the meantime, if you’d like more information about the Century Dictionary, see the Wikipedia entry. Also, in the 1996 (number 17) issue of the journal Dictionaries, published by the Dictionary Society of North America, there are a number of excellent articles celebrating the centennial of the first edition of the Century.


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Birdie Num Num

Yesterday chandas tweeted one of the more technically awkward web pages I’ve seen in a while, but the content is great. It appears to be a rather large dictionary of bird names, saved as a single html page from a Microsoft Word file. It’s all text with no images or links, there’s no obvious indication of who wrote or compiled it (it’s hosted on the Weisblum Lab Antibiotics Webpage, where it’s linked to as “Arthur Smith’s Bird Dictionary”), and it weighs in at a browser-crashing 12 MB.

Once you get past that it’s chockablock with good stuff—bird names and their synonyms starting with Aasvogel (“the name for the larger vultures by the Dutch colonists in Africa”) and ending with Zeldonia, the generic name for the Wrenthrush. The whole thing is a good potential source for some of the better bird lists on Wordie.

UPDATE: This one must be making the rounds. Language Hat blogged it a few days ago.

Happy 80th, OED

In 1857 the “Unregistered Words Committee” of the Philological Society of London published the report On Some Deficiencies in our English Dictionaries, calling for the creation of a new comprehensive English dictionary. Sixty-one years later, on April 19, 1928, the final fascicle of the Oxford English Dictionary was published, covering Wise to the end of W. (Curious about the fate of X, Y, and Z? Me too, but I’m just parroting Wikipedia.)

In celebration of the 80th anniversary of the OED, the Oxford University Press is hosting a series of events around the world. And for the rest of this year, they’re offering the full 20-volume print edition for the low low price of £450 or $850. You can’t afford not to buy it! It’ll probably hold its value better than your stock portfolio, and it’s certainly a lot more fun.

October 12-13
Oxford University, Oxford, England
with:
Charlotte Brewer
Ammon Shea
John Simpson
Simon Winchester

October 22
Century Club, New York, NY
with:
Simon Winchester
Ammon Shea
Jesse Shedlower

November 13, 6:00pm, Brattle Theater
Harvard Bookstore, Cambridge, MA
with:
Ammon Shea
Jesse Sheidlower
Simon Winchester

November 18, 7:30-9:00pm
Philadelphia Free Library, Philadelphia, PA
with:
Ammon Shea
Jesse Sheidlower
Barbara Wallraff

Private Notes on Words

A new feature launched this weekend: private notes on words. On any word page, where it says “Leave a comment, citation, or private note”, click on “private note” to leave a postit-style note for yourself.

This is kind of like writing in the margins of a book–if there’s something you’d like to remember about a word, or you want to leave yourself pronunciation tips or study notes or a comment-in-progress or whatever, and it doesn’t seem appropriate to make it public, write yourself a note.

I’m hoping students in particular find this useful, and also people using Wordie to create glossaries or dictionaries. I’ve corresponded with a few folks who have expressed an interest in such a use, and the combination of tags, private notes, and comments seems like a good emerging toolkit. One could use tags to aggregate the words in question (there are already a bunch of good de facto glossaries on Wordie as a result of tagging, like demon, archery and beer), then private notes while collecting definitions or usage notes, with the final result ending up as a citation in the comments.

Or, use it however you want. Any suggestions for improvements or additions are, as always, welcome.

Requiem for the print OED

My overlord, the Times (actually, Virginia Heffernan, who I’ve never met), has a nice bit in this Sunday’s Magazine about the end of the printed OED, her discomfort over that, and her chagrined realization that most of her dictionary use has been electronic for some time.

As has mine, but it doesn’t make me love my 1934 Webster’s Second any less. But it illustrates the fact that ginormous printed dictionaries are now fetish objects, as often as not. For practical day-to-day use, the Interblag wins.

Heffernan closes with a few suggested lexicographic resources. One too few, as she omits Wordie. Otherwise a great piece.

Requiem for a Wordie

My dad sent me this one (clipped from the paper, in an envelope, via post. John Sr. kicks it old school). It’s the obituary of Eugene Ehrlich, a self-educated lexicographer and the author of 40 dictionaries.

Ehrlich wrote “The Highly Selective Dictionary for the Extraordinarily Literate,” “Veni, Vidi, Vici: Conquer Your Enemies, Impress Your Friends with Everyday Latin,” and “Les Bons Mots, or How to Amaze Tout le Monde with Everyday French.” Shortcuts to tarting up your vocabulary without having to read lots of books or learn other languages.

I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but Ehrlich sounds like a bit of a snob*. His aim seems to have been teaching people how to appear smart by showing them big words. I wonder what he would have thought of Wordie, which is full of people who know they’re smart and enjoy words in all sizes. Erudite people snickering at poop.

He probably would have hated it, but still, hats off to a guy who wrote 40 dictionaries, and on his deathbed was correcting the use of “who” as a prepositional object.

* Of course I’m talking out of my ass again, seeing as I’ve never actually read any of Ehrlich’s books. If anyone has, could you enlighten us in the comments?