Once upon a time a dictionary was a list of words giving meanings and/or grammar, pronunciation and etymologies (definition number one under “dictionary” in this book). No longer: the closest definition to this dictionary here is meaning number four “a book that lists examples or information arranged alphabetically … ”. Even the defining alphabetical arrangement is usually supplemented by tables and other appendices. The task of a dictionary reviewer now is to characterise what is included and how well it is done. The publicity sheet claims the Bloomsbury Concise English Dictionary is “more than words”, though it does admit to having 220,000 definitions. So what “more”?
Well, there are quick facts – “not just definitions and spelling, but extra summaries of key concepts in the arts and science” such as:
art nouveau, computers and key movements in western philosophy;
quick definitions to “enable the user to pick the right sense of a word quickly and easily”;
usage notes on the 600 most commonly confused words (e.g. definite and definitive; incidents and incidence);
commonly misspelled words with words located where you think they should be (accessable for accessible);
hi‐tech words highlighted with a lightening symbol (why?);
more than 650 illustrations, maps and photos;
over 100 literary links (linking words with novels, e.g. Builder – The Master Builder; Clergy – Elergy Written in a Country Churchyard);
30 tables of key facts and dates;
spellcheck – “beware: your spellchecker will not catch this error” (“do not confuse ‘geezer’ with ‘geyser’; ‘gene’ see [also] ‘jean’; ‘beet and beat’”);
over 8,000 entries on people and places; and
notes on punctuation.
The usual dictionary features are all present: variant spellings, pronunciation, grammatical notes, abbreviations and acronyms, subject labels, illustrative examples, word origins, cross‐references, idioms and phrases, style levels and registers (e.g. “archaic”, “regional”), usage notes, and synonyms. It is nice to see quoted sources properly cited, and there is a timely prefatory article on using the internet for research – the “Librarians' index for the internet” (at www.lii.org) was new to me.
I was struck by the dust jacket: the glossy, jet‐black cover with bold white lettering (gold on black on the unjacketed spine) will stand out on any shelf. The smart presentation characteristic of Bloomsbury is carried through to the page layouts; the three‐columned pages are clear, with headwords in bold. On the pages 632‐633 spread, my eye was caught by the line drawing of a griffin (or griffon or gryphons: a mythical monster with the head and wings of an eagle and the body and tail of a lion), and another drawing of a “groin” – not meanings one or two, but number three, a curved line forming the edge between two intersecting vaults. There is a reference to “groyne” (UK spelling): the wall‐like structure built out into the sea or river. The origin is: “Late 16C. < obsolete groin ‘pig's snout’ via Old French < late Latin grunium < Latin gruninre ‘grunt’”. Well, I never! Other gems from these pages are: grimaldi, grim reaper, gringo, griot (a member of a caste of professional oral historians in the Mali Empire), grip, griseofulvin (an antibiotic used for fungal skin conditions), grisette, grog, grommet, gromyko, groovy, groschen and grot. Griot and grisette I had encountered recently, so I was particularly pleased to see them here. While on the subject of words, the dictionary's currency is demonstrated by its inclusion of: ASBO, Atkins diet, bed‐blocker, blogging, chav, crunk (an aggressive form of rap), phish, skimming, and speed dating. Is there an opposite of “ad nuseum”? If there is, then I have it!
Enough said! This is a cracking dictionary, or whatever. It is for everybody's shelves.
