What do you think?
Rate this book


416 pages, Hardcover
First published October 14, 2025
Two days after the 2020 presidential election, the most frequent lookups on Merriam's website were fascism, coup, sycophant, and sedition; the same list four years later included suffrage, gaslighting, democracy, narcissist, and, again, fascism.
In the archives of Yale, I found a handwritten sheet of paper titled "Time spent in editing Webster, ed. of 1864." The labor of the two dozen men who are listed—all of them working on the dictionary as a side gig—totaled 26.17 years.
If you're going to try to define every word, you might as well try to lasso every star in the galaxy.
Our current anti-science, anti-intellectual age could benefit from the revival of thobber (1959), "a person who prefers guess-work to investigation and reinforces his beliefs by reasserting them frequently."
Using they/their/them/themselves with a singular antecedent of unspecified gender goes back centuries. The OED dates first use to 1375 in the Middle English translation of a French romance novel, William of Palerne, aka William and the Werewolf.
Noah Webster left a bunch of singular theys in his 1833 revision of the King James Version of the Bible: "So likewise shall my heavenly Father do to you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one of his brother their trespasses."
More fundamentally, pronouns and their validation as words with fluctuating meanings matter because of what they represent to their users—"a sense of agency and autonomy and freedom and expression," Kirby Conrad, the Swarthmore linguist, said. "That goes beyond, 'Don't misgender me' but 'See me in some specific way.' And that's important."
This was the lexicographer's dilemma. They are instructed to set aside biases, use data, be thorough, logical, and impartial—but there's a reason no bylines, avatars, or teeny headshots sit next to entries in the dictionary. Objectivity is an illusion best served anonymously.
The common thread through the decades is an abject, though understandable, failure to comprehend the function and operation of a dictionary, that is, to cull from carefully edited publications evidence of the way words are actually used in written and spoken English.
But lexicographers aren't concerned with what the Bible tells you, or your political convictions, or your opinion that, if only certain words were removed from the dictionary, the world would live as one. All they care about is portraying the meanings of words clearly and accurately based on the available evidence.
The dictionary's job is to be an unbiased arbiter of language and its evolution, one of the last apolitical authorities standing.
In a 2004 "On Language" column in the New York Times Magazine, Erin McKean guesstimated that, excluding scholarly dictionaries, there were around two hundred full-time working lexicographers in the United States; as I finish this book, the number was under fifty, probably closer to thirty.
The dictionary projects permanence, but the language is Jell-O, slippery and mutable and forever collapsing on itself.