The British publishers of the Collins dictionary have announced 24 words on their endangered species list. They’re words like “vilipend,” which means “to treat with contempt,” and “nitid,” that’s n-i-t-i-d, which means “glistening. “
Transcript of “Darwinism and the Dictionary (minicast)”
Welcome to another minicast from A Way with Words. I’m Martha Barnette.
The British publishers of the Collins Dictionary have announced 24 words on their endangered species list.
They’re words like villipend, to treat with contempt, and knitted, that’s N-I-T-I-D, which means glistening.
The editors say if they don’t see these words being used in everyday speech and writing, they’ll drop them from the next edition.
They’ve even set a deadline, February 2009.
But they’re also offering the public a chance to vote for which word should get a reprieve.
It’s a great publicity stunt.
But I have to say that the thought of any word being voted off the lexical island makes me wince.
I understand, of course, that culling the herd is a necessary evil.
Consider the economics.
More words mean more pages, and more pages mean more cost per unit.
As more new words come into being, the obsolete ones have to make room.
Still, I was aghast to realize that On the List was one of my favorite words ever.
The word is caducity.
C-A-D-U-C-I-T-Y.
Caducity.
It means perishability, transience.
More specifically, it means the infirmities that accompany old age.
Caducity comes from the Latin word cadere, which means to fall.
The same root produced other falling words like cascade and most likely cadaver, literally one who has fallen.
So what I love about this word is that tucked inside it is a picture of falling away, like leaves in autumn.
You might speak of the caducity of fame or the caducity of nature.
Or you might say, I worry about my parents’ growing caducity.
There’s kind of a wistful beauty about this word.
And it’s not just poetic, it’s musical.
Listen, caducity.
Contrary to what you might think, lexicographers say it’s incredibly hard to coin a word that sticks around long enough to wind up in the dictionary.
Same for self-conscious efforts to revive words that are becoming obsolete.
But I believe caducity has hardly outlived its usefulness.
So I’m asking you to join me.
Adopt this word as your own.
Use it. Drop it into casual conversation.
Put it into a poem. On a vanity plate. I don’t care. Just use it.
Another thing lexicographers tell us,
Just because a word isn’t in the dictionary doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.
So regardless of what the Collins editors decide in February, I’m hanging on to this one.
Then again, if we all start using it, maybe we can save this lovely old word from, well, caducity.
I’d love to know what you think about caducity.
You can write to us anytime at words@waywordradio.org,
Or give us a call, the numbers 1-877-929-9673,
Or hop on over to our discussion forum.
That’s at waywordradio.org/discussion.
I’ll be over there talking about caducity.
And by the way, if you’d like to see the rest of the words on the Collins list, you can go to our website.
That’s at waywordradio.org.
Search for the word.
Wait for it.
Caducity.
For A Way with Words, I’m Martha Barnette.
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The editors warn that if they don’t see evidence of these words being used in everyday speech and writing, they’ll drop them from the dictionary’s next edition. They’ve even set deadline for the doomed words: February 2009. But they’ve also offered the public a chance to weigh in, and vote for which words deserve a reprieve.
Sure, it’s a great publicity stunt. But I have to say that the thought of any word being voted off the lexical island makes me wince.
I understand, of course, that culling the herd is a necessary evil. First, there’s the economic reality of dictionary publishing–more words mean more pages, and more pages mean more costs per unit.
Still, I have to tell you I was aghast to realize that on the list was one of my favorite words ever. The word is caducity–c-a-d-u-c-i-t-y. Caducity. It means “perishability, transience.” More specifically, it can denote “the infirmities that accompany old age.”
Caducity comes from the Latin word “cadere,” which means “to fall.” The same root produced other falling words, like “cascade” and most likely, “cadaver,” literally, “one who has fallen.”
So what I love about this word is that tucked inside it” is a picture of falling away, like leaves in autumn. You might speak of “the caducity of fame” or the “caducity of nature.” Or you might say, “I worry about my parents’ growing caducity.”
There’s a wistful beauty about this word. And it’s not just poetic, it’s musical. Listen: caducity.
Contrary to what you might think, lexicographers say it’s incredibly hard to coin a word that sticks around long enough to wind up in the dictionary. Same goes for self-conscious efforts to revive words that have become obsolete.
But I’m convinced that “caducity” has hardly outlived its usefulness. So I’m asking you to join me: Adopt it as your own. Use it. Drop it into casual conversation. Put it into a poem. On a vanity license plate–I don’t care. Just use it.
Another thing lexicographers tell us is that just because a word isn’t in a dictionary, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. So regardless of what the Collins editors decide in February, I’m going to hang on to this one.
Then again, if we all start using it, maybe we can save this lovely word from, well, caducity.
Check out the other words on Collins’ list here.
