The Dictionary of Lost Words(120)

This novel is my attempt to understand how the way we define language, might define us. Throughout, I have tried to conjure images and express emotions that bring our understanding of words into question. By putting Esme among the words, I was able to imagine the effect they might have had on her, and the effect she might have had on them.

From the beginning, it was important that I weave Esme’s fictional story through the history of the Oxford English Dictionary as we know it. I soon realised that this history also included the women’s suffrage movement in England as well as World War I. In all three cases the timelines of events and the broad details have been preserved. Any errors are unintentional.

Perhaps the biggest challenge in writing this book was being true to the real-life people who inhabited its historical context. I am not alone in my fascination with the Oxford English Dictionary, and I devoured the work of dictionary scholars and biographers. Lynda Mugglestone’s book Lost for Words gave me the confidence to accept that women’s words were indeed treated differently to those of men, at least sometimes. Peter Gilliver’s book The Making of the Oxford English Dictionary furnished my story with facts and anecdotes that I hope anchor it in truth. Twice, I had the privilege of visiting the Oxford University Press, where the Oxford English Dictionary archives are held. I searched through Dictionary proofs for evidence that this word or that had been deleted at the last minute, and I was given access to the original slips, many still tied in bundles by the original string that held them together in the early twentieth century. I found the slips for bondmaid: that beautiful, troubling word that was as much a character in this story as Esme. But there was no sign of the top-slip that might have shown the definition – it really had been lost. When the boxes and boxes of papers proved overwhelming, I turned to the people who tended them. Beverley McColloch, Peter Gilliver and Martin Maw shared stories and insights that could only come from a deep fascination and respect for the Dictionary and the Press that produced it. Our conversations animated the history.

Most of the men of the OED can be easily found in the historical record. With the exception of Mr Crane, Mr Dankworth and one or two fleeting characters, the male editors and assistants are based on real people. I have, of course, fictionalised their interactions with other characters in the story, but I have endeavoured to capture something of their interests and personalities. The speech made by Dr Murray during the garden party for A and B is taken verbatim from the foreword to that volume.

Mr Nicholson and Mr Madan were the Bodleian Librarians at the time portrayed in this book. Although they have few lines, I hope I have captured something of their attitude.

I have tried to render the characters of Rosfrith Murray, Elsie Murray and Eleanor Bradley as best I can, but there is a paucity of biographical information available, and I cannot guarantee that their nearest family would agree to the personality traits I have assumed.

Perhaps the most important real-life character in this novel is Edith Thompson. She and her sister, Elizabeth, were dedicated and highly valued volunteers. Edith was involved in the Dictionary from the publication of the first words until the publication of the last. She died in 1929, just a year after the Dictionary was completed. I got to know her a little from the materials that have been preserved in the OED archives. It is an extraordinary feeling to come across a note penned by Edith and pinned to the edge of a proof. Her original letters to James Murray reveal intelligence, humour and a wry wit. When she wanted to better explain a word, she was in the habit of drawing annotated pictures.

I have taken the liberty of turning Edith Thompson into a key character in this story. As with other women, it is difficult to find a comprehensive account of her life, but what I do know, I have woven through this book. She did, for instance, write a history of England that was a popular school text. She also lived in Bath with her sister. Her note to James Murray regarding the word lip-pencil is real, but the rest is fiction. It was important to me that the real woman behind this character be named and recognised for her contribution. But to acknowledge my fictionalisation of her life, Esme gives her the pet name Ditte. As for Elizabeth Thompson (known as EP Thompson), she really did write A Dragoon’s Wife (and I have an original 1907 edition sitting on my desk), but I could find nothing else to guide me as to her character. I have turned her into a woman I would like to know, and given her the nickname Beth to acknowledge this fictionalisation.

Finally, to the words. All books referred to in this story are real, as is the timeline of OED fascicle publications, OED entries, excised or rejected words and quotations. The words collected by Esme are real, though the quotations are as fictional as the characters who speak them.

At the end of the book, I refer to Aboriginal Kaurna Elders who shared their language with German missionaries. It should be noted that the spelling of Kaurna names and words is not a simple matter. The Kaurna language was, for a long while after European settlement, waiting to be spoken and understood. That is now happening, and as more people learn to speak it, questions about spelling, pronunciation and meaning arise and are subject to consideration. I have been guided by the advice of Kaurna Warra Karrpanthi (‘Creating Kaurna Language’), a committee set up to assist with Kaurna place naming and translations. Their work continues to enliven the Kaurna language and contributes to Reconciliation.

By the time I had finished the first draft of this novel, I had become acutely aware that the first edition of the Oxford English Dictionary was a flawed and gendered text. But it was also extraordinary, and far less flawed and gendered than it might have been in the hands of someone other than James Murray. I have come to realise that the Dictionary was an initiative of Victorian times, but every publication, since ‘A to Ant’ in 1884, has reflected some small move towards greater representation of all those who speak the English Language.