Most Americans suffer from sesquipedalophobia, or hatred and fear of big words. According to Bryan A. Garner, a writer who introduced me to this word, we are “as averse as any nation to unfamiliar words, which seem to proclaim intellectual pretension, flaunted knowledge, or cultural snobbery….”
Backing up Garner’s remark are scores of books on effective writing. Nearly all these manuals emphasize simple language and the avoidance of unfamiliar words. “Short words are best,” said Winston Churchill, “and old words when short are best of all,” and most writers would agree with him.
Backing up Garner’s remark are scores of books on effective writing. Nearly all these manuals emphasize simple language and the avoidance of unfamiliar words. “Short words are best,” said Winston Churchill, “and old words when short are best of all,” and most writers would agree with him.
I understand the prejudice for short and familiar words, but I also love exploring longer words or words rarely used. Depending on which source you believe, the English language contains between 400,000 and 1,000,000 words. The average person knows the meanings of between 20,000 and 30,000 words, but uses far fewer in daily speech. On the other hand, Shakespeare used more than 30,000 different words in his plays, and doubtless knew several thousand more.
It seems a shame we don’t haul more of these words into our conversations and writing. They might spruce up our conversation, liven up our writing, confuse our enemies, and annoy our friends.
Besides, some of these words are just plain fun.
Let’s look at a few together here.
*Bissextile (by Seks til): A bissextile year is a “leap year, one when for the sake of the calendar we add February29th.” So Uncle Joe is at a birthday party when his niece’s college roommate asks him the date of his own birth. “February 29,” Joe booms, proud as a new Mercedes. “I’m happy to say I was a bissextile baby!” Watch the roommate as she sidles away from Joe toward the punch bowl.
*Formication (for mich Kay shun): Formication is a tingling sensation, the feeling that ants or other insects are crawling all over you. Let’s say you have finally worked up the nerve to ask Sally for a date. She agrees, and you propose a day-hike and picnic. When you reach a secluded field high in the mountain fastness, you unpack a blanket from your pack, shake it out on the grass, stand back, hold out both hands, and declare, “There we are. That blanket will protect us from formication.” Be sure to have your camera or phone ready, as you will want to remember the look on Sally’s face.
*Meliorism (Meel yuh riz um, Mee lee uh riz um): This is the belief that everything tends to get better and better. Pejorism is the belief that everything is getting worse. “In this election year of 2016,” Scott tells his buddy Danny at the tavern, “I expect the pejorists outnumber the meliorists two to one.” “I don’t know about that,” Danny says, “but I do know this country is going to hell in a handbag.” “You’re a pejorist,” Scott says. Danny then punches Scott in the nose.
*Nephalism (Nef uh liz um): This is the creed of the teetotaler, the complete abstinence from alcohol. At the family’s New Year’s Eve party, Aunt Margaret has her eye on the clock and on Uncle Buck’s bottle of Jack Daniels. “The minutes are ticking away,” she says, reminding him of his pledge. He stands in front of the entire company, places his hand over his heart, and states, “In just a few minutes,” Uncle Buck proclaims, “I will adapt the creed of nephalism and lay Jack D. in his grave.” “Son,” says Grandpa, “you’re confused. You can't be a Nephalist, whatever that is. You’re a Baptist.”
*Virago (veer Ah go): Virago originally meant a strong and sometimes aggressive woman. Today the term more commonly means a shrew, a termagant, an overbearing or complaining woman. William arrives home to a blistering attack from his wife, Lucy. He has failed to pay the electric bill on time, he has killed her car by leaving on the headlights the previous night, he has again left the water running in the bathroom after brushing his teeth. Worst of all, he has forgotten today is their anniversary. “Come, come, my little virago,” William says consolingly. “I’ll take you to dinner at The Golden Bull.” Lucy responds by hurling a coffee cup at his head. He ducks. “What the--!” “You know damn well I’m a virgo,” Lucy says and begins to weep.
*Penelopize (pih Nel uh pyze): To penelopize is to act like Penelope, the wife of Ulysses and the model of Greek domestic virtues. (I included this word only because my sister’s name is Penelope. Once in high school our principal announced over the loudspeaker: “Would Pen uh lope Minick please come to the office?” Not a banner day for him or for her.) This is a handy word to aim at brides-to-be or the newly-wed: “So, big changes ahead. Do you plan on penelopizing your life?” Be prepared for a blank stare, a raised eyebrow, or the question: “Who’s Penelope and what’s she got to do with Bill?”
*Parrhesia (pa Ree zyuh): Parrahesia is boldness of speech. Technically, it “has a specialized meaning: ‘warning of potential offense, and asking pardon in advance.’” Phrases like “with all due respect” and “no offense intended” are the usual lead-in phrases for such a contradiction. Dan and John are discussing politics. Dan is an ardent supporter of Hilary Clinton or Donald Trump: take your pick. He sings the praises of his candidate. John listens with growing irritation and finally interrupts. “With all due respect,” he says, “you, sir, are an ass.” Dan keeps his wits about him and replies: “What a magnificent example of parrhesia!” Depending on the strength of his vocabulary, John either nods his head and says “Thank you,” or else assumes that Dan has somehow mistaken him for a Frenchman.
Enough. You get the point. Sprinkling our conservations with some rare words might, like rare spices, jazz up our language. Hey, using a few different words—long words, discarded words, words living in a dictionary just waiting for release—might not exactly immanentize the eschaton, but they can bring some sport.
Just remember to duck the punches and the coffee cups.
*The words and definitions in this piece I lifted from Norman W. Schur’s 2000 Most Challenging And Obscure Words (Galahad Books, 1994, 563 pages). Though I have packed away my own copy for an upcoming move, Peter Bowler’s The Superior Person’s Book of Words lent inspiration.
It seems a shame we don’t haul more of these words into our conversations and writing. They might spruce up our conversation, liven up our writing, confuse our enemies, and annoy our friends.
Besides, some of these words are just plain fun.
Let’s look at a few together here.
*Bissextile (by Seks til): A bissextile year is a “leap year, one when for the sake of the calendar we add February29th.” So Uncle Joe is at a birthday party when his niece’s college roommate asks him the date of his own birth. “February 29,” Joe booms, proud as a new Mercedes. “I’m happy to say I was a bissextile baby!” Watch the roommate as she sidles away from Joe toward the punch bowl.
*Formication (for mich Kay shun): Formication is a tingling sensation, the feeling that ants or other insects are crawling all over you. Let’s say you have finally worked up the nerve to ask Sally for a date. She agrees, and you propose a day-hike and picnic. When you reach a secluded field high in the mountain fastness, you unpack a blanket from your pack, shake it out on the grass, stand back, hold out both hands, and declare, “There we are. That blanket will protect us from formication.” Be sure to have your camera or phone ready, as you will want to remember the look on Sally’s face.
*Meliorism (Meel yuh riz um, Mee lee uh riz um): This is the belief that everything tends to get better and better. Pejorism is the belief that everything is getting worse. “In this election year of 2016,” Scott tells his buddy Danny at the tavern, “I expect the pejorists outnumber the meliorists two to one.” “I don’t know about that,” Danny says, “but I do know this country is going to hell in a handbag.” “You’re a pejorist,” Scott says. Danny then punches Scott in the nose.
*Nephalism (Nef uh liz um): This is the creed of the teetotaler, the complete abstinence from alcohol. At the family’s New Year’s Eve party, Aunt Margaret has her eye on the clock and on Uncle Buck’s bottle of Jack Daniels. “The minutes are ticking away,” she says, reminding him of his pledge. He stands in front of the entire company, places his hand over his heart, and states, “In just a few minutes,” Uncle Buck proclaims, “I will adapt the creed of nephalism and lay Jack D. in his grave.” “Son,” says Grandpa, “you’re confused. You can't be a Nephalist, whatever that is. You’re a Baptist.”
*Virago (veer Ah go): Virago originally meant a strong and sometimes aggressive woman. Today the term more commonly means a shrew, a termagant, an overbearing or complaining woman. William arrives home to a blistering attack from his wife, Lucy. He has failed to pay the electric bill on time, he has killed her car by leaving on the headlights the previous night, he has again left the water running in the bathroom after brushing his teeth. Worst of all, he has forgotten today is their anniversary. “Come, come, my little virago,” William says consolingly. “I’ll take you to dinner at The Golden Bull.” Lucy responds by hurling a coffee cup at his head. He ducks. “What the--!” “You know damn well I’m a virgo,” Lucy says and begins to weep.
*Penelopize (pih Nel uh pyze): To penelopize is to act like Penelope, the wife of Ulysses and the model of Greek domestic virtues. (I included this word only because my sister’s name is Penelope. Once in high school our principal announced over the loudspeaker: “Would Pen uh lope Minick please come to the office?” Not a banner day for him or for her.) This is a handy word to aim at brides-to-be or the newly-wed: “So, big changes ahead. Do you plan on penelopizing your life?” Be prepared for a blank stare, a raised eyebrow, or the question: “Who’s Penelope and what’s she got to do with Bill?”
*Parrhesia (pa Ree zyuh): Parrahesia is boldness of speech. Technically, it “has a specialized meaning: ‘warning of potential offense, and asking pardon in advance.’” Phrases like “with all due respect” and “no offense intended” are the usual lead-in phrases for such a contradiction. Dan and John are discussing politics. Dan is an ardent supporter of Hilary Clinton or Donald Trump: take your pick. He sings the praises of his candidate. John listens with growing irritation and finally interrupts. “With all due respect,” he says, “you, sir, are an ass.” Dan keeps his wits about him and replies: “What a magnificent example of parrhesia!” Depending on the strength of his vocabulary, John either nods his head and says “Thank you,” or else assumes that Dan has somehow mistaken him for a Frenchman.
Enough. You get the point. Sprinkling our conservations with some rare words might, like rare spices, jazz up our language. Hey, using a few different words—long words, discarded words, words living in a dictionary just waiting for release—might not exactly immanentize the eschaton, but they can bring some sport.
Just remember to duck the punches and the coffee cups.
*The words and definitions in this piece I lifted from Norman W. Schur’s 2000 Most Challenging And Obscure Words (Galahad Books, 1994, 563 pages). Though I have packed away my own copy for an upcoming move, Peter Bowler’s The Superior Person’s Book of Words lent inspiration.
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