“Books You Don’t Own But Should” will be an occasional series on this site wherein I haughtily lambaste you for not yet owning specific titles from a wide range of genres and disciplines. You should act on these recommendations as though they were an immediate withdrawal on your credit account of choice by proceeding to your nearest retailer of choice.
Disclaimer (1): there will be no bonus, of any sort, should you, by some strange twist of plot, already possess one or more of the titles mentioned here.
Disclaimer (2): these are not formal reviews or paid endorsements (although, who am I to decline free copies?) and am open to suggestions, should certain readers become so obsessed with this occasional series as to somehow confuse their self-worth with validation here.
Disclaimer (3): “Books You Don’t Own But Should” is not to be confused with “Books You Do Own But Shouldn’t,” another occasional series on this site wherein I simply laugh at your poor taste for the bemusement of others.
One of the most useful books I own is Marc McCutcheon’s Descriptionary (1992).
What is a descriptionary, you ask?
It is a “thematic” or reverse dictionary that describes itself as, the book for when you know what it is, but not what it’s called.
Which, in other words, means that it’s a book that helps you sort through sentences like this: you know that stuff, from the thing, that we got from that place?
In short: the Descriptionary makes pronouns feel bad about themselves. It’s the legitimate offspring of the dictionary and thesaurus and heir to their rightful place on your bookshelf.
Which is not to suggest that you should throw out your dictionary and thesaurus — but if you do, please keep in mind that the odds of bounce are directly proportional to height thrown — rather, that the Descriptionary is useful because it draws on a type of learning and thinking that its more antiquated antecedents do not.
We no longer pretend there is a single way or means of learning anything and your relationship with words should be no different.
The Descriptionary is organized by theme, starting with broad categories like animals and insects, architecture, art, clothing, electronics, etc. Each of these has its own list of categories and a number of relevant sub-categories (as needed) that are each comprised of an alphabetical list of related terms.
Let’s look at an example: If I turn, at random, to the category Occupations, then Politics, and then International Relations, I find a number of terms and definitions, including “plenipotentiary” which apparently refers to “any diplomat who may rank below ambassador but may be, nevertheless, vested with complete authority”.
I am not a member of the civil service but that’s still a useful piece of information.
Perhaps another way of explaining how the Descriptionary works is that it provides context before definition, whereas the dictionary provides definition before context — assuming, of course, that you know what the hell you’re looking for in the first place.
I happened to notice recently that the fourth edition of McCutcheon’s Descriptionary will be released in June 2010. It includes just over 700 pages (100 more than the second edition from 2000 that I have) and is priced at a modest twenty dollars, depending on your retailer of choice.
After you pick one up, you can join me in wondering why they haven’t lined grade school classrooms with them.
