G to I from "Reading the OED"

Categories: linguistics, reading

Date: 15 April 2010 11:26:22

Though firstly I want to thank all for their comments on the previous post. I truly value and appreciate the comments and the honesty from you all which has caused me to reflect on my perceptions of the situation. I'll respond later when I feel I've come to some conclusion; still working it all out in my head. But I am so very thankful to you all, and greatly appreciate the responses.

Returning to Ammon Shea's Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages, below are some words beginning with G, H and I that I enjoyed discovering. Before that I will make reference to the description of Ammon's life he provides in the chapter for G [before each list of words is a description of some aspect of his life related to dictionaries, either owning, reading or buying them as far as I have read]. In the G chapter he describes his search for the perfect library in which to read the OED -- he ends up in the basement of the Hunter College Library, his need for coffee to keep him going, his unexpected and shocking realisation he had become a "public shusher" and his telling of talkers that rats exist in the basement to send them away. I do enjoy these snapshots of his life and love of words, and the good humour with which he describes them, as much as I enjoy learning of new words.

On to the words...

Goat-drunk [adjective] Made lascivious by alcohol.
According to the redoubtable Thomas Nashe, the author of The Anatomie of Absurditie, Christ's Teares over Jerusalem, and many other important works of English literature, there are eight types of drunkards, of which the one who is goat-drunk is seventh, although it is unclear what the order signifies.
[Ammon goes on to list the full eight, "...so that you may never be at a loss for words when confronted by a drunk of any sort"; I'll link here; see the penultimate -- a favourite word of mine -- paragraph: "First, you have the Ape Drunk..."]

Gramaungere [noun] A superb or great meal.
Although this is a fine-looking word with an amply interesting meaning and a good etymology (from the Old French grant mangier, great meal), the real enjoyment in reading it came from the rather inexplicable comment posted below the definition, which states: "not from the original Fr., which has 'do you think you can eat up all the pagans by yourselves?'" I'm not sure what original French they're referring to, but I wish they had included more of it.

Happify [verb] To make happy.
Happify appears to have been used as a verb for quite some time, ranging from the works of Josuah Sylvester in the early seventeenth century all the way to Lou Shelly's Hepcats Jive Talk Dictionary of 1945. It has such a pleasing ring to it that I'm mystified that it has not been retained in more common usage.

Heterophemize [verb] To say something different from what you mean to say.
Think back on all the things you've said in life that you truly wish you hadn't. Wouldn't it be nice if you could just claim afterward that you had been heterophemizing, and be instantly forgiven?

Impluvious [adjective] "Wet with rain." (Thomas Blount, Glossographia, 1656)
The OED does not provide any quotations for this word; it only mentions the fact that it existed in two dictionaries, hundreds of years ago. While I am not generally in favour of resuscitating a word that has died a natural death, I would make an exception in the case of impluvious.

Indread [verb] To feel a secret dread.
We all have some nameless fear, a source of secret dread that keeps us awake at night from time to time, sickened with worry. Now you know what to call it, which will not in any way help in dispelling it.

Introuvable [adjective] Not capable of being found, specifically of books.
I always have trouble finding my books. I have no system for how my books are arranged; they fit where there is room. Alix [Ammon's girlfriend] has no such trouble, as she color-codes all of her books. On the side of the apartment where her books live are great swaths of reds, yellows, blues and greens, all blending together neatly. I've tried this system, and it did not work so well, as most of my books are the exact same color -- brown and dusty.