"At Large And At Small, Confessions of a literary hedonist" by Anne Fadiman

There are distinct times, when the world is grey and drizzly, a slight chill in the air that creates a day of inner wants. Moments of selfishness that are required for self preservation. It is on these days that a book becomes the sacred object near the heart. To find that soft spot in the house, and curl up with: to find that safe haven. Anne Fadiman's At Large And At Small is the type of book you would want to let in.

A collection of essays that plays at the edges of those who find reading central to their being. Not just the manufactured collection of words, but the simple production of words by people. Even those we can find in letters. Her father's day "had not truly begun" until the post arrived. "[T]o many tame citizens like me the morning mail functions as the voice of the unpredictable and keeps alive for a few minutes a day the keen sense of the unplanned and the unplannable" he would write. I agree.

The essays vary from the personal youthful endeavors of collecting nature and discovering the literary connection with author Nabokov to the dichotomous delight of discovering the owl and lark in some relationships. The ones who have not attained the level of awakening until the wee hours of the morning, and those who find the same at the moments of light, the minute of creation.

Without looking I purchased this volume, knowing already that author and reader, me, had a connection. Her earlier work, Ex Libris, was full of bookish wanderings and wonderings. But I suspect that I am of a minority. Bookishness is not a seller, which is possibly why I found At Large and At Small in the remainder bin. But I like discovery, if only under my own terms. Tweaked on something I like, I allow myself to wander through a collection of essays, not all of them hitting the mark for me, knowing that something will be appealing. And yet, stumbling in full light of day, on something I hadn't considered. For this is the experience of becoming aware.

#0900

"Caught in the Web of Words. James Murray and the Oxford English Dictionary"

Oddly enough, there is little in the way of biographies of the celebrated lexiconographer. This one, Caught in the Web of Words by K. M. Elisabeth Murray (Yale Nota Bene, 2001) is only one of a very few. It happens, by all accounts, to be one of the better ones as well. The trials and tribulations of the formation of the now standard English reference, and the early pursuit was no simple matter. To maintain the high standards in a consistent manner over decades would have been trying by any one's account.

Murray is equally concerned with the man, James Murray, as she is with the production of the OED. His early interest in science would, in hind-sight, be a pivotal trait for the development of the OED and author Murray explores James's early contacts with science. From his earliest points, "whatever he acquired he carefully identified and classified, and the discipline of closely observing and analysing the likenesses and differences of similar objects and deciding how to arrange the he found valuable when later he had to trace the complex history of the various senses of a word" (p. 34). Specifically, geology played a significant role, including publishing small pieces of geo-poetry and geological knowledge in local, small newspapers. Currently, I am on the hunt for a bibliography of James Murray, one that includes his early attachment to geology, archaeology, and other areas of natural history.

His work on the OED would come later in life, one spent early on as a teacher. Yet his urning to learn and express new knowledge, including languages and local history would take him elsewhere. At a time when understanding and curating dialects and languages was emerging, James knowledge, almost entirely self taught, would lead him towards a dictionary. One that was shouting out to be done in a country that claimed for itself the pinnacle of civilization.

In 1879 he issued An Appeal to the English-speaking and English-reading Public to find words of the earliest point, and their quotations. These would come out as "slips" of paper and would eventually mount into the 10's of thousands. Each one had to be arranged, verified, and written up. "Black" for instance "had taken his best voluntary helper...three months, a Scriptorium [the place where all was being produced] assistant another three weeks, and he himself a week more to master" (p. 255).

His vanity would get the better of him at times. His early isolation from the London center of all intellectual activity, and his work amongst the dons of Oxford made him sensitive to his self-taught past. At one point, "conscious of his humble origin and lack of university background, felt he must [at times] defer to the 'great men' at Oxford [for advice, wanted or not], exaggerating their authority and attributing to them the arbitrariness of a remote hierarchy" (p. 209).

Author Murray has done well with all the remaining slips of Murrayography with a balanced and thorough understanding of her grandfather. Certainly, the more recent books by Winchester (Professor and the Madman, 1998; and The Meaning of Everything, The Story of the Oxford English Dictionary, 2003), Shea (Reading the OED, One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages, 2008), or Mugglestone (Lost for Words, The Hidden History of the Oxford English Dictionary, 2005), cover the entertaining or academic side of the pivotal document, the OED, but not of the idiosyncratic individuals who gathered all that is known and placed it into something that in itself is singular, readable and a reference. Author Murray has shown some of this in Caught in the Web of Words but I can't help that there is more to learn. More aspects of Murray's life for example to come to light.

No. 0899