The Professor and the Madman: A Tale of Murder,Insanity, and the Making of the Oxford English Dictionary

Who knew a book about how one of the most staid and respected reference books in the English language could be a tale of such intrigue and mystery?  I certainly didn't before my book club decided to read Simon Winchester's The Professor and the Madman: A Tale of Murder, Insanity, and the Making of the Oxford English Dictionary (#288).

I assumed when I started reading this book (and for about three quarters of the way through!) that the scholarly-looking gentleman in the cover photograph was James Murray, the eccentric Scottish polymath and eventual Oxford don who spearheaded the assembly and editing of the entries of what would become the Oxford English Dictionary over the course of more than twenty years.  I was wrong, however.  The man pictured is William Chester Minor, an American surgeon, veteran of the Civil War, murderer, major contributor to the nascent dictionary, and the true subject of this intriguing tale.

I also never realized until I read this volume how much we take the availability of a plethora of dictionaries and other word-related reference books for granted, and what a comparatively recent development they are.  What went into the creation of this standard work (which I am ashamed to admit I have never personally consulted, my bookshelves only being able to accommodate a single volume dictionary) is quite an eye-opener.  Since you yourself are a reader, too, I think you would find this book a little gem.

Not that it is without its faults: William Minor's main contribution to the OED (as we crossword puzzle fans know it!) was the myriad (Think thousands upon thousands!!!) of attribution quotes he mined from his own private library of early English language works included in every entry.  Yet at the beginning of each chapter, there is a related entry word from the OED itself which includes the etymology and the definitions, but omits the quotations which Minor was credited with contributing.  A rather curious omission, I thought.  I invite you to see what you think of it yourself.  I don't think you'll find your time wasted.