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A review by neilrcoulter
The Dictionary Wars: The American Fight Over the English Language by Peter Martin
4.0
I first heard of this book from Peter Sokolowski, editor-at-large at Merriam-Webster, in his presentation at last year’s ACES conference. He recommended it highly and shared some of the history that author Peter Martin covers in the book. I’ve finally had the chance to read it, and I learned a lot. The story of the development of dictionaries in the United States is bigger than just the printed books—it’s really the story of language change, national identity, cultural shifts, education, journalism, commerce, and more. For someone (like me) who is endlessly fascinated by language, this history of the nineteenth century in America is very interesting.
We all know the name “Webster,” but I didn’t know that Noah Webster was such a jerk. I think he’s someone who would have thrived on social media, had he lived in our era. He couldn’t resist getting the last word in often personal attacks through pamphlets and newspapers. His main opponent in the dictionary wars was Joseph Worcester, who by all rights should be a much better-known name than Webster’s. Webster v. Worcester are the “Ford v. Ferrari” of this story. Where Webster was the bombastic, fame-hungry, arrogant personality who created a dictionary (1828) that is full of misguided ideas and outright errors (especially in the bizarre etymologies), Worcester was the careful, thorough, steadily working scholar. Webster (and, after his death, George and Charles Merriam) weren’t content until they’d dragged everyone around them down to their level of obnoxious argument, but at the end of it all, it was Worcester who single-handedly created the best of the American English dictionaries (1860).
Yet that’s the crux of the matter: single-handedly. Worcester died in 1865 and left the Merriam brothers a few more years to transform the dictionary-making landscape. By transitioning the process from one person working (basically) alone into a large team of specialists working on the enormous task together, the Merriams changed dictionary-making forever and ensured the legacy of the Webster brand (even if ensuring that legacy meant undoing much of what Noah Webster himself had stood for).
There’s a sadness in reading The Dictionary Wars, because even if you don’t know anything about the story (I knew very little about it), you definitely know that somehow Webster ends up winning and Worcester disappears. It’s sad because that’s not the way you want it to work out. It’s like reading the transcript of a long, bitter, unfair Twitter battle, and the person who ends up on top is the one who fought the dirtiest. History is hard to stomach sometimes.
Martin’s book is a fascinating glimpse into American life in the nineteenth century. Though by the last third of the book I had had more than enough of the back-and-forth attacks between the various players (it all becomes so repetitive and discouraging after a while), I’m glad to know this piece of my country’s (and my language’s) past. It’s yet another reminder that our current era is not so different (neither better nor worse) than previous times in history. Humans are humans, and no matter what technology they employ, they always end up proving that fact. Yet out of it also come some glorious achievements. We’re a strange bunch.
We all know the name “Webster,” but I didn’t know that Noah Webster was such a jerk. I think he’s someone who would have thrived on social media, had he lived in our era. He couldn’t resist getting the last word in often personal attacks through pamphlets and newspapers. His main opponent in the dictionary wars was Joseph Worcester, who by all rights should be a much better-known name than Webster’s. Webster v. Worcester are the “Ford v. Ferrari” of this story. Where Webster was the bombastic, fame-hungry, arrogant personality who created a dictionary (1828) that is full of misguided ideas and outright errors (especially in the bizarre etymologies), Worcester was the careful, thorough, steadily working scholar. Webster (and, after his death, George and Charles Merriam) weren’t content until they’d dragged everyone around them down to their level of obnoxious argument, but at the end of it all, it was Worcester who single-handedly created the best of the American English dictionaries (1860).
Yet that’s the crux of the matter: single-handedly. Worcester died in 1865 and left the Merriam brothers a few more years to transform the dictionary-making landscape. By transitioning the process from one person working (basically) alone into a large team of specialists working on the enormous task together, the Merriams changed dictionary-making forever and ensured the legacy of the Webster brand (even if ensuring that legacy meant undoing much of what Noah Webster himself had stood for).
There’s a sadness in reading The Dictionary Wars, because even if you don’t know anything about the story (I knew very little about it), you definitely know that somehow Webster ends up winning and Worcester disappears. It’s sad because that’s not the way you want it to work out. It’s like reading the transcript of a long, bitter, unfair Twitter battle, and the person who ends up on top is the one who fought the dirtiest. History is hard to stomach sometimes.
Martin’s book is a fascinating glimpse into American life in the nineteenth century. Though by the last third of the book I had had more than enough of the back-and-forth attacks between the various players (it all becomes so repetitive and discouraging after a while), I’m glad to know this piece of my country’s (and my language’s) past. It’s yet another reminder that our current era is not so different (neither better nor worse) than previous times in history. Humans are humans, and no matter what technology they employ, they always end up proving that fact. Yet out of it also come some glorious achievements. We’re a strange bunch.