By David Astle
You probably missed the memo. Or maybe you were distracted, what with the federal election, the Dallas lockdown, Brexit, State of Origin II. Either way, last month was a biggie for the Oxford Dictionary, the noble tome adding more than 1000 new words, and tarting up a further 2000 entries.
Part of the makeover was pourover, which isn't a malapropism for study, or a latte spill, but a probate term for assets moving to an existing trust. All this week, while scrutineers have been squinting at ballot papers, I've been poring over the Oxford's preferences, seeing which candidates made the cut.
"I've been poring over the Oxford's preferences, seeing which candidates made the cut."Credit: Simon Letch
Anything techie had a comfy head-start, from bot to ROFL, from leetspeak to treemap (a means of displaying data). Despite the OMGs from pedants, textonyms flourished too, including ICYMI (In Case You Missed It) and GTG (Got To Go). Though my favourite in the shorthand ranks must be tl;dr – too long; didn't read.
But read I did, all 3000 words of it, from imports to rebirths, seeking treasure as much as trends. And lo, the bourgeoisie has spoken. Galloping miles ahead of IT and BTW, streaking beyond the nano-shuffles and palmtop Kindles, the biggest mover in the Oxford pack is gastroporn.
Superfoods (freekeh, maitake) join the table with Chinese (bao buns, matcha tea). Indian also makes the menu (dopiaza), along with Italian (vongole), ocker (chargrill) and dessert (fro-yo). Turning to the taco van, we can gobble guajillo chilis and flautas. Translating as flute, the flauta is a narrow burrito, which in turn translates as donkey dick.
Perhaps sir and madam would like some music to accompany their meal? May I suggest a little K-pop, or folktronica on a keytar? Then again, you may lean towards a dirty cocktail in a dive bar (two more newbies of 2016). Lifestyle is likewise writ large via glamp (the verb for glamour-camping), listicle (Top 20 Binge Watches, say) and fixie (the hipster's gear-free bike). Meantime the hockey mom (sic) could well be one half of a power couple.
Truth be told, a few fresh arrivals had me shrugging. These included snus (Swedish snuff), boteh (Persian paisley), mahalo (Hawaiian esteem) and javelina (a Mexican peccary and not a super-long flauta). Despite my inspired stab, a jackalope is not a jackfruit-cum-cantaloupe, but a rabbit with antlers – the US equivalent of a drop bear.
Yet among these curios were the bleedingly familiar. Surely Hitchcockian has embarked the HMS Oxford before now? Ditto for star sign, self-harm and test drive? Perhaps lexicographers are slow moviegoers, accounting for top gun and Sophie's Choice only qualifying now. But that's the drag of dictionaries: words can take an age to crawl between the covers, owing to English's enormity, plus the necessary strike-rate of usages.
Even then, the database can mishandle an entry, distort the semantics. A few weeks back I queried the Macquarie over their listing for ride. Somehow their nuances had omitted the sense of sideshow diversion, as well as the sexual innuendo. Happily both connotations are now embedded since lexicographers are lovely people, keen to keep their heads above the flood. So don't be shy to suggest.
Cosmologist Brad Tucker wasn't shy. As a research fellow at ANU, based at Mt Stromlo observatory, Brad noticed a black hole in the Macquarie's treatment of dark energy. "Your current definition is wrong," he wrote to the dictionary last month, "as dark energy has nothing to do with dark matter. While they are both dark in name, it is more that we astrophysicists aren't so creative at naming things."
Thus the universe was correctly realigned last week. What was once energy released by dark matter (uh-huh) is now "theoretical energy postulated to repeal galaxies", putting it briefly. And so the dictionary improves itself, any dictionary, Oxford or Macquarie, new word by repaired word, ROFL by ride, fathoming the Milky Way or Mexican takeaway.
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