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A
That sounds like a country song, doesn't it? I ain't yet quite right for your orthography. Welcome to Yurong. About the podcast, where sometimes we talk about all of our favorite words. And with me today is our guest du jour, Gabe Henry, who is here to talk about the dictionary wars, which are not as violent as they might sound, but very petty, which is better. Gabe has a book out now called Enough Is Enough. That second enough is spelled E N U F. You'll know why soon. The subtitle is Our Failed Attempts to Make English Easier to Spell. And this is a book that recently made me chortle in an IKEA food court where I like to go to relax. As you know, or maybe you don't know. I have another show coming out right now from CBC Podcast. It's a miniseries called the Devil youl Know. It's about what else? The Satanic Panic. And episode four is out this week. I really hope you check it out. I hope that you can find some comfort in history and in learning about the courageous people who have been living through moral panics a long time before this current one. And I'm so happy to get to share this show with you. Speaking of things I'm excited to share with you, we also have a fabulous bonus episode on the word origins of Bimbos. See, we're getting really wordy this month with our favorite bimbologist and our favorite podcaster, Jamie Loftus. And coming up, we have the first of our survivalism Q and A episodes with our survival correspondent, the amazing Blair Braverman. And this is the show where we had people on Patreon ask their burning questions about how to survive in every connotation of the word. And yes, we are going to talk about whether you can drink your own pee. Thank you so much for being here. Thank you for journeying with us into the holidays. Here's your episode, welcome to youo Wrong about the Podcast, where in my opinion, you can just do the best job you can spelling your own name and then try again with a different spelling next time because that's what Shakespeare did. And with me today is Gabe Henry. Gabe, how are you?
B
I'm doing great. How are you, Sarah?
A
I'm, you know, just slip sliding into the fall. They're about to take all of our daylight away.
B
Now, I wanted to note that we're recording this a few days after Noah Webster's birthday, which is National Dictionary Day.
A
Oh, my God.
B
I know this is belated, but I just wanted to wish you a very happy National Dictionary Day.
A
Thank you. I don't have a single dictionary in this house, but I do have a thesaurus which I think is pretty good.
B
That's close enough.
A
Yeah, I'm working my way up to a dictionary. And you have a new book out. Tell us about that.
B
My book is called Enough Is Enough. Our failed attempts to make English easier to spell. And when you see the title, you'll see the second Enough is spelled E, N U F. And it's about the long stroke strange little known history of something called the Simplified Spelling Movement, which was this effort over hundreds of years to shorten and streamline how we spell words like spelling, laugh, L, A F or love, L, U, V. And this movement has been supported by people like Benjamin Franklin, Noah Webster, Charles Darwin, all in this effort to make our spelling a little bit more logical.
A
Do you feel differently about the practicality of this idea than he did when he started? Where are you on the spectrum of enthusiasts to know?
B
I've become a little bit more enthusiastic about it. Maybe enthusiastic is too strong of a word, but I think where I land is I think spelling should be simpler. I think that it's a little absurd that we have eight different ways of pronouncing ough through though. Tough cough.
A
That's too many ways.
B
That's too many. I think two is too many. If you look at some more phonetic languages like Spanish or German, most of them are very phonetic. But where I land on the actual reform part of it all is I don't think it's really practical for us to go in and kind of artificially tweak the language in this conscious way. I don't think we can really push the language forward into the future. Just like I don't really think it's practical to try to pull it back into the past. I think you just kind of let it evolve how it's supposed to evolve.
A
Yeah, yeah. And I think that the way language evolves is so fascinating. And anyone who tries to, I don't know, police correctness in the English language, there's a special kind of irony to that, which your book certainly illustrates about just the idea that like, I mean, how would you describe, you know, you got into this so much in your book, but maybe a little briefly to start us off, where did we get this language we are speaking from? Where did we get this language in which we are speaking? Speaking. I'm avoiding ending with a preposition which nobody does, which starts us off well.
B
I guess the simple answer is from everywhere, wherever we could get it Wherever we could. We're eating at the buffet of global languages, really. A lot has to do with England's history. You know, for hundreds of years, it was pummeled by invaders from all over. The Romans who spoke Latin, the Vikings who spoke Norse, which is similar to Danish, the Germans, the French. And then over time, all these languages merged and mingled into this very messy thing that we call English. And I think a lot of people think of English as this singular language, but I tend to think of it more as, like, eight languages in a trench coat.
A
Yeah. And sometimes we fight under the trench coat, and that's what creates interesting lumps or whatever.
B
Yeah. There's a big Tasmanian devil whirlwind going on under there.
A
Yeah. Yeah. And I guess. I don't know, there's something about the history of language specifically that I just find to be. I don't know, because it oozes into all other history, into such a way or oozes out of it, I guess maybe it's oozing in some kind of direction. It's an omnidirectional ooze. And I feel like the paths that that takes you on, I don't know, just are fantastic and very fun to me. And so our topic today is the dictionary wars, which is an amazing title, and I want to just have you take us to the dictionary wars, please.
B
I'd be happy to. So I wanted to start by just reading you a quote, and I just want to hear your first organic reaction to it. Does that make sense? So, for some context, this quote is from 1787. It comes from a London magazine, and the quote is in reference to Thomas Jefferson.
A
Okay, here it is.
B
Belittle. What an expression. This word may be an elegant one in Virginia and even perfectly intelligible, but for our part, all we can do is guess at its meaning. Belittle. For shame, Mr. Jefferson. Why, after trampling upon the honor of our country and. And representing it as little better than a land of barbarism, why we say perpetually trample also upon our language? Oh, spare, we beseech you, our mother tongue.
A
Love how people criticized Thomas Jefferson back in the day, but almost never for the things he should have gotten criticized for. That's so funny to me, because I feel like belittle, like, when you put it like that, it is kind of like a Simpsons word, like embiggen. Like you can hear it, the sort of like the newness of it, maybe if you tune your ear to the 1700s, but it feels like a college word. Now it's like the kind of thing that you would hear in a political debate. And so the idea, it just makes me think that a piece of junk only has to hang around for a few decades to become a mid century modern classic. And for me to pay too much for it, it feels like that kind of thing.
B
Right. Belittle has definitely reached its vintage era now. It's tasty and it's kind of one of words that I guess around the time it's. It's an adjective little that's being turned into a verb and it's one of many words that are being verbified. So there's words like I like that interview, which is a noun. But around this time it's being used as a verb for the first time.
A
Oh man, these kids.
B
Or the word process. It's being used as a verb or notice. So when this quote comes out in 1787, the word belittle is considered a kind of unsophisticated, uncouth word. It's a new word coming out of America and it's frowned upon by the British elite who don't believe it to be part of true English.
A
Yeah, I feel like this is not quite the right comparison because when people do this now, I feel like they're trying to pander to the youths in a way that I find mortifying as someone who definitely also does that. But it feels like maybe if Thomas Jefferson is talking about Riz, you know.
B
I think that's a great comparison. I mean, every slang is laughable in its first iteration.
A
I mean, I think it sounds right when it's used correctly. But as someone who is never going to use it, quite right. As a 37 year old, I just need to concentrate on Murder, She Wrote.
B
But I think the thing about a word like Riz or belittle is we don't really know what, how it will be accepted in the future. You know, belittle is considered part of traditional English now. It's part of high class thesaurus, dictionary English authoritative usage. And Riz in 40 years might be the same. We really don't know the path it's gonna take. Or it could drop off and become some kind of laughable nostalgic slang that we pretend we never said, but we all know we did.
A
Yeah, we did a bonus episode last month with the irreplaceable Jamie Loftus and talked about the derivation of the word bimbo because that one is interesting to me because it doesn't seem to have any one derivation. It seems to have sort of wandered in through the windows of American culture through a few different ways. Like, it exists as a last name and Italian for baby. But to have just bounced around being applied to kind of everybody for a while until it made its way to hot women. And I don't know. I like that one too, where it's like, people are like, we just know we love saying it. We're just not sure what we want to mainly be saying it about. So we're going to take some time.
B
To decide in the way a word feels coming out of your mouth or the way it sounds coming into your ears could have a lot to do with whether it catches on. Belittle is a fun word to say.
A
It is.
B
So is bimbo.
A
Yes. And yet belittling bimbos is a terrible thing to do.
B
So this word belittle is just one of many new words and slangs that are bubbling up in America at the time, which the British are dismissing as Americanisms. And I have a short list here of a few other Americanisms that the British are railing against. So words like skunk and canoe, which are indigenous words and therefore considered uncultured and uncivilized. Great abridged words like gents instead of gentlemen and pants instead of pantaloons.
A
Oh, my God. Sorry. That was amazing.
B
I agree. Also compound words like eggnog, which comes from an English slang word, grog, meaning rum, and noggin, which means a wooden cup.
A
We could be calling it grog, noggin, I just don't know.
B
Groggin, grognogin, noggin, Rog. I think the British would have had a hard time with any of those, But I think there's some riz in calling it groggan.
A
It is funny to me that it feels like this interesting kind of proprietary jealousy of they're not using the language right. We're using it right. It's like, well, you're using it for your needs and their British needs.
B
Exactly. Another word that's starting to become popular in America is the word cookie, which derives from a Dutch word. And, you know, you've really offended the British when you start saying cookie instead of biscuit.
A
Oh, yeah. That is probably when culturally, we became a different country.
B
Exactly. So these are just some of the hundreds of new Americanized words that the British are taking offense to. And they're not just taking offense to the words themselves, but kind of taking off to what the words represent. You know, they represent that America is growing away from England. They represent that the English language is separating from its Roots, and it's seen as a threat to England.
A
It's almost like the language is like going through an adolescent rebellion, in a way.
B
Yeah. Just like politically, they were seeing America go through an adolescent rebellion, too. They wanted their political independence as much as their linguistic independence. So this kind of Americanized English, or many were calling it barbaric, it had been growing and spreading for much of the 1700s. And back in 1746, this is 30 years before the American Revolution, a British poet named Samuel Johnson decides that he wants to actually do something about it, to actually fight back against this American influence on English. So in 1746, Samuel Johnson is 37 years old, as you are. As I am.
A
37. Oh, my God. We're going to choose some weird life plans this year, I bet. I can't wait way.
B
Yeah. Just like Samuel Johnson did. So, Samuel Johnson, he's 37, he's living in England. He's restless, he's underworked. He's trying to make a name for himself as a poet. He's picking up whatever teaching and tutoring jobs he can find. You know, it's a pain that all my fellow freelancers probably know very well. And he's also a staunch Tory, which means he's politically conservative. He loves tradition and authority, and he's distrustful of reformers and radicals of any kind, but especially Americans. In fact, he actively hates Americans. I have a quote.
A
Fair enough, but not for the right reasons.
B
I have a quote here from Johnson. He says, I am willing to love all mankind except an American. He also called them, quote, a race of convicts who ought to be thankful for anything we allow them, short of hanging.
A
Hey, that's Australia.
B
So clearly, there are many things at play here with him and his disgust for America, I mean, and what it represents runs very deep. So to him, proper English is a mark of civilization and order, and every new Americanism threatens to unravel it. So he takes up this mission to save English, to preserve it from American decay. And his plan is to compile a huge, authoritative English dictionary. And he hopes this will bother standardize the English language and also defend it against America's influence. He kind of sees himself as this guardian of the language, and he wants to draw a clear line between England and America. So in 1746, he begins this monumental task of creating a dictionary, and it ends up taking the next nine years.
A
Of his life, which is honestly, like an impressively short amount of time to write a dictionary in, you know, especially the first. And there's also, I mean, well, I'm having two thoughts. A, that it's very charming to me to believe you can change the world by writing a book, and B, that in the mid to late 18th century, that probably is about as true as it's ever going to be. Is that correct, in your opinion?
B
I think so. I mean, there were some dictionaries around. None of them were thorough, comprehensive, authoritative dictionaries of the language. So in a time before there was these thousand page dictionaries, it was actually practical and sensible to think that you could change the language or change the world or change your national identity by creating a dictionary.
A
Right. And to be fair, that did happen because now we spell things a certain way.
B
Right? Absolutely. And I don't know how many people live today, if any, will ever truly understand what it must have been like to compile a dictionary by yourself from scratch before the existence of a true authoritative dictionary.
A
Yeah. What was it like?
B
I mean, it required years and years of working essentially alone. You know, maybe you're lucky to have the help of some assistance, but it's slow, tedious work. I mean, if you finish two entries a day, that's probably a really good day. And I actually have some information on how to. What Samuel Johnson's process was like. So this is his process. He starts working 17:46. He starts by taking a book off his shelf and he underlines all the words and quotations that he wants to include in his dictionary. Then he passes the book to an assistant to transcribe his selections onto paper cards, which Johnson later alphabetizes and then defines. Then he continues on to another book and another. Eventually he runs out of books, so he starts borrowing books from friends. In fact, some friends later report that when the books are finally returned to them, they'd been so heavily marked and underlined as to be, quote, so defaced as to be scarce worth owning. And he did this for nine years. And it's also, I guess, interesting to note the temperament of some of these early lexicographers. A lot of them have been diagnosed posthumously by historians as having ocd. They're obsessive compulsive. When Samuel Johnson was anxious or bored, he would obsessively count lines of Latin poetry. Just a very rote, repetitive, pedantic little hobby he would do. Peter Mark Roget, who wrote Roget's thesaurus, he would obsessively count his steps to school every day when he was a kid. And Noah Webster, who published Webster's Dictionary and will get to him soon, he would obsessively count the houses of every new city that he visited. I actually have a tally here. During one of his lecture tours in 1785, he counted that Salem had 730 houses, New York had 3340, and Philadelphia had around 4500.
A
Man. I mean, it's funny. It's charming to think that the human desire to quantify information has been with us probably since we've been around and that, I don't know, that we're surrounded by so much sinister information technology that it's nice to remember that some of us built it because we just wanted to count all the houses in Philadelphia, which is harder to do now. It is.
B
There's not many things you can count that haven't already been counted. There's no novel counting projects you can pick up right now, let's say.
A
It is fun to count steps, though, I gotta say.
B
Well, we have technology that does that for us. I don't think anyone's counting their 10,000 steps by hand.
A
Well, I. Look, sometimes you leave your phone at home and you can't let it be for nothing.
B
It's true. It's also interesting to note that when Samuel Johnson is doing this, this is the scientific revolution. And there's this push among many industries to count and quantify and classify a lot of things. So while Johnson is cataloging English, this man, Carl Linnaeus, is in Sweden. He's a Swedish botanist, and he's writing his first major catalog of plants, the first major work to catalog them according to binomial nomenclature. And so both of these writers, both of these minds are right in the middle of the scientific revolution, and they're trying to classify and organize the world around them to bring about more scientific understanding. I think it was kind of a trend or an interest among many people to want to quantify their world.
A
And then, of course, there's the desire held by some to quantify the world in a way that proves that white men are superior to everybody else, inevitably. But, I don't know, it feels like information. It's like the myth of Prometheus. You want to offer a flame to the people, and some of them will use it for warmth and to heat up their hot pockets. And some of them will use it for. For racism. And that's information, baby.
B
That's information, baby. So. Well, as long as we're quantifying things, let me give you a few numbers on Samuel Johnson's dictionary when it finally comes out in 1755. So this thing is massive. It has more than 40,000 entries it spans more than 2,000 pages, and the two volumes of it together weigh about 20 pounds, which, just to give a real world point of reference, 20 pounds is about as much as a car tire. So that's what we're dealing with.
A
So once he's written it, he can flip it over to do one of those NFL exercises.
B
Yeah, it was the. The first weightlifting machine. Also, not just the first dictionary. Yeah, he was jacked.
A
You have to assume. Yeah. What a thing to have produced.
B
Yeah. And just as he planned. You know, his dictionary does become this symbol, English nationalistic pride. It serves as a wall against the New World, and it promotes England's superiority over not just America, but also England's neighbors, like Scotland and France. Actually, a lot of his entries are kind of full of these political biases. I have a few here. He famously defines the word oats as a grain which in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland, supports the people. Burn.
A
Insult them for being thrifty. They'll hate that. It's not like they take pride in it.
B
And he frequently degrades Americans as a. As a barbaric, crude people. Usually he's degrading them in his example sentences. So, for example, for the word fertile, he posits that 10 acres of land in England are about as fertile as a thousand acres in the uncultivated waste of America. For the term endwise, which means to set something upright, as when you hammer a pole into the ground. Johnson references the wooden sticks of teepees which you would find in the quote, rude and unpolished America, peopled with slothful and naked Indians. And for the term lizard, he provides this annotation. There are several sorts of lizards, some in Arabia of a cubit long. In America, they eat lizards. So everything in reference to America is kind of to cast them as this primitive, barbaric, ignorant, uncivilized people. Everything in reference to England is refined and civilized.
A
And to imply that European settlers are taking their cultural cues from indigenous people, which could not be farther from the truth, unfortunately.
B
Right? Not at all. Linguistically, the languages are merging. In America, they're trading some words they're sharing.
A
Although we took the word squash, too, didn't we?
B
Yep. Squash canoe. Tomahawk bluff in the sense of a cliff, I think. Squirrel, maybe. Chowder. Yeah, there are quite a few.
A
Wow. When you're feeling cozy during, you know, having your squash chowder in your canoe this fall, just remember that language is also a thief.
B
I also, if you don't mind a brief tangent here I.
A
Never mind. A brief tangent.
B
Johnson's dictionary was also known for containing some really wonderfully bizarre entries and definitions. So can I read you a few of these?
A
Yes. Oh, my gosh. Please.
B
All right. Tarantula, an insect whose bite is said to be only cured by music. Lunch. As much food as one's hand can hold.
A
I really like that. That's not that much lunch.
B
Only one hand.
A
That's like a large pear. Like a little. I guess that's why we invented the Caesar salad wrap, because of how Johnson's dictionary defined lunch. You have to fit a whole salad in your hand.
B
And I wonder if he's writing before the invention of the cafeteria tray, because clearly you can hold a lot more food in one hand on that.
A
Right. You have to balance it. We've circumvented that one.
B
Here's one. Mouth friend, which is a word he might have coined. A mouth friend is one who professes friendship without intending it.
A
That's when he surprised his mother and his tutor once, and she said, oh, don't worry, Samuel. We're only mouth friends. And he was like, no. Oh, boy.
B
And then I have one more. I think this one is the best. This word is belly God. He defines it as a glutton. One who makes a God of his belly.
A
Yes, Belly God. Oh, that's good.
B
I need that on a T shirt.
A
Yeah, it is like. There's a charming amount of voice in it, but it's just like. It's interesting to be like. I don't know. There's this pure quest for information that seems like it's made possible by the sheer power of spite.
B
That's why it's the dictionary wars.
A
It's not the dictionary picnic.
B
It's the dictionary mouth friends. So, I mean, there's a lot of political biases that are going into these early grammar books, school books, textbooks, dictionaries. Because when it's a novel creation, when you don't have centuries of these books already, you can move the needle quite a bit in the direction of your country over another's. If you get there first.
A
Right. Yeah. It's kind of the same principle that if you decide what goes in school textbooks in the United States or any other country, but as a belittle saying American, that's what I know. If you control what goes in textbooks, you control what people belief to be true and what they perceive and the world as it is, policed and created. So, I mean, there's such an interesting tension generally, and it feels like we're in this period of the standardization of knowledge, that's making it true in a deeper way than it has been before. Maybe that there's the power of learning and discovering new information and then the power of what you relay to the people, and that those can be different things and that it can be different because you have an agenda. It can just be different because every person is imperfect as a vessel for the things that they are trying to understand. And sometimes they really hate Scottish people.
B
And I guess if history is written by the winners, then the lexicon is written also by the winners or by just the people who get to that finish line first.
A
Right, the language we write the books in.
B
Exactly. So Johnson publishes this dictionary in 1755 and it immediately becomes the gold standard of dictionaries. Again, it's technically not the first English dictionary, but it's definitely the longest and the most meticulous and exhaustive. And as Johnson hoped, it kind of draws this line in the sand between British English and American English, and it enshrines British English as just the default standard.
A
I was just watching, as I do last night, an episode of Unsolved Mysteries where they were talking about the crop circles around Stonehenge, which are like a newer phenomenon that I think we tend to think, and I don't know, I should do an episode on that one day, get to talk about signs. But it was like a lot of British men with two, to me, as an American, very fancy sounding accents. And that as an American you tend to think, even now you hear, you know, like an Oxbridge type of an English accent. And you're like, well, that guy knows what he's talking about. And then he's talking about crop circles. And you're like, no, maybe he doesn't know.
B
I think, I mean, Samuel Johnson was probably onto something and that the, that Oxford British accent really is the best vehicle to convey any kind of information and have it believed by the number of people.
A
Even if it's just, you know. So you know how in Unsolved Mysteries they do the update. They're like, who could ever solve this Unsolved mystery? And then it's a guy being like, there's simply no way. It could just be two gents from the pub. And then they're like, update, it was two guys from the pub. And you're like, well, sometimes it's two guys from the pub.
B
Yeah, that should be the name of a, of a collection of Unsolved Mysteries, or just the title of the next biography of American histories. Yeah, it was just two Guys at the pub.
A
After all, it so often is. Yeah.
B
So this book comes out and then fast forward a few decades to the late 1700s. The American colonies have won their independence, the Revolutionary War is over. And now there's this question that hangs over America. What will its identity be? What will this new American culture look like? And it's at this time that America starts rejecting anything and everything British. Not just its government, not just its kings, but also its culture and its language.
A
Yeah, which is tough to do because we do speak it.
B
Yes, exactly. Put, put yourself in their shoes. Here they are. They had just won independence from England and yet they're still speaking English, the language of their former oppressors. So for a brief period during this wave of anti British sentiment, America considers replacing English with an entirely different language. There's a few people that nominate Greek as a replacement. Others suggest French. There's even this brief campaign to have Hebrew substituted for English, kind of as a way to symbolically unite Americans as a chosen people.
A
And then we realize that it's really, really hard to learn to speak Hebrew. And also a modern version of it won't be created for 200 years. And we're like, no.
B
And also that whole right to left thing.
A
Does anyone suggest Dutch? Because that seems somewhat reasonable. Sort of.
B
Many languages are floated and Dutch would be reasonable. It is a Germanic language like English.
A
We like to say cookie. We can just start with that and work our way out in concentric circles.
B
Listen, if you give a language a cookie.
A
They'Ll ask for a cup of tea.
B
So it's, it's around this time that this man, Noah Webster comes in. So.
A
Hello.
B
So Noah Webster, he's this young 25 year old Connecticut school teacher and he's just starting to gain notoriety for a school book he's published earlier that year titled the American Spelling Book. It quickly becomes this popular textbook in American schools. And it gives Webster a bit of an ego. He starts thinking of himself not only as a language authority, but also as a language savior. Someone who's going to save English while also making it something wholly American. And he comes up with this idea that instead of replacing English entirely with French or Greek or Hebrew, he develops a plan for an American spelling. So he respells laugh as laf he respells tough as T u F and tongue is T u n G and women as W I m m e n. And he goes through the English language removing silent letters and superfluous letters everywhere he can. And he publishes this proposal in 1789 in a piece titled An Essay on a Reformed Mode of Spelling. And needless to say, no one really takes Webster's new spelling seriously. It looks silly, it looks dumb. One reviewer writes, we are sorry to observe this very peculiar and unsightly mode of spelling. Webster's own friend, a man named Ezra Stiles, writes to him saying, I suspect you have put in the pruning knife too freely. Even Webster's brother in law can't get on board. He writes to Webster saying, I ain't yet quite ripe for your orthography. So no one, really, no one's buying this, this simplified short spelling.
A
That sounds like a country song, doesn't it? I ain't yet quite right for your orthography.
B
Yeah, I could see Willie Nelson singing that.
A
Exactly. Yeah.
B
So he. He can't get support. These spellings, they look uneducated, uncivilized and childlike. And some historians have suspected that there's another reason Webster can't really get anyone on board. And that is most of his peers don't like him.
A
Yeah, that's hard.
B
It's true. Webster could be pompous and arrogant and condescending, and he just rubbed a lot of people the wrong way. In fact, I have a list here of some of the things that his contemporaries called him during his lifetime. Are you ready for this?
A
Oh, yeah.
B
A half begotten self dubbed patriot. A great fool and a bare faced liar. A deceitful newsmonger, a spiteful viper. A maniacal pedant. A dunghill cock of faction. Oh, don't ask me what that is.
A
I like that.
B
An incurable lunatic and a prostitute wretch.
A
Well, you know, in this economy, we're all flirting with that. But I can't get over half begotten where it sounds like he didn't finish getting born. He's like. He's only like birthed up to the waist. This all makes me think of. There was a New Yorker article about the Kushner family Shortly before the 2016 election, I think, where someone who knew Jared Kushner at Harvard called him a snaky motherfucker. And I think that every time I see him and have for nine years.
B
Well, unlike Webster, Kushner is a fully formed snaky, not a half formed.
A
Yeah, he managed to slither all the way out, which is, you know, good for him.
B
Yeah, that sort of. That dunghill faction.
A
It is. I do think that, like, the insults were quite good in the 18th century. I don't know, it's like what tourists said about New York in the 90s, it's like great sanctuary, but I wouldn't want to live there. I don't want to get the pox. I don't want to deal with the lack of painkillers, don't get me wrong. But the insults, the coffee shops, the beadwork, there's appealing stuff.
B
I think you could probably put together a colonial insult dictionary composed entirely of what people called Noah Webster.
A
That can be. You can have a supplement, a sequel book to this book. This is called what people called Noah Webster.
B
Yeah. So about a decade after trying to push America to adopt these simpler spellings, Webster basically gives up. And in 1800 he announces his new project, an authoritative American dictionary. He figures if he can't persuade Americans to spell differently, he can at least elevate American English in another way. So he can create this dictionary that will give credence to all those Americanisms and slang that Samuel Johnson had railed against. All those indigenous words like tomahawk and moose and squash, all those words like eggnog.
A
So I don't know. I like this. I also, I feel like we need to hear more when we are growing up about the extremely bad ideas of people whose good ideas we hear about because it makes it seem like history is just a long procession of people having one good idea and then dying, when in fact the bad ideas that brought them to the good ones are kind of the most interesting.
B
Yeah, I hate to plug my book. It's called Enough Is Enough. Our failed attempts to make English easier to spell, and it's available everywhere. But it really is a biography of failures. It's a biography of all these people who. Whose names we know in these elevated senses, whose names we know on statues like Benjamin Franklin and Noah Webster. But it's talking about periods of their lives where they failed and they had really preposterous ideas that didn't catch on and they were humiliated. In many ways, I think I'm really drawn to that side of history. The side of history that doesn't come through in the bullet pointed textbooks, but the kind that's like, you know, Charles Darwin would have preferred that you didn't know this part about his life.
A
Right. Or the idea that, like, I don't know, the sort of the dream that. I understand why some people hold it because we're all so embarrassing as human beings. And it's hard to deal with that sometimes. But like, what if I have good ideas and I contribute to society and then no one ever talks about my sex life? And it's like oh, no, we're going to. And we probably have to. So. Yeah, yeah.
B
I mean, in the future, all our biographies will be researched by our search history, and that scares me.
A
Oh, God, that's. You know, I mean, there is a lot of information there. You know, it can't be denied. Okay, so Noah Webster, kind of. And I agree, by the way, with his critics at the time, where. And you get into the reasons why this wouldn't work in your book. But what I recall, and what sticks out to me is that it would actually take a really long time to teach people to spell this way. And so it seems like. Do you think that he's giving into the more practical objections, or is he just kind of like, ugh, whatever, I'll do this new thing?
B
Well, he does give in to the practical objections. He realizes that his radical spelling reform is too much, too fast. People don't like changing their language all at once, being forced to do it by some authority. People are really tied. They tie their language to tradition and identity, and these are things that people just don't like changing. So any kind of big radical reform wasn't going to work. But he does have some ideas later on of how to slip these simplifications into the lexicon anyway, and I'll get to that. So he announces this big Dictionary project in 1800, and he starts working alphabetically from A to Z. And just to give you a sense of how long and cumbersome this project is, it takes Webster six years just to reach the letter C. Oh, boy. It takes him seven more years to reach H, another two years to reach R, and at last he finishes in 1825 after 25 years working on the project.
A
My God.
B
His final word that he works on is zymome. And he later described the feeling of finishing the project. He writes, when I had come to the last word, I was seized with a trembling which made it somewhat difficult to hold my pen steady for the writing. But I summoned strength to finish the last word. And then walking about the room a few minutes, I recovered.
A
That is. How does that compare in your experience to finishing writing a book? It's very similar to take as long. Yeah.
B
I've never worked on a book for 25 years, but it's very similar. There is a feeling of unsteady hand, a feeling of your heart beating, your heart racing, you feel a little flushed, maybe, and a great joy. And I'm sorry to say it doesn't last that long because the nature of, I don't know, certain writers and Artists is that you're looking for the next thing pretty quickly after.
A
But like with slot machines, like with.
B
Slot machines, you can't get off the cycle. But there is a moment and it's a really beautiful moment. And. And I guess when you're a book author and you only have a few books that you write in your lifetime, then you only experience that joy a few times. So it's very precious.
A
Yeah, yeah. And I feel like. It's also like I've never finished a book that went on to be published. But in my youth I had a lot of projects that will never see the sun and two of them were finished book length manuscripts. And I remember the feeling of finishing, but I remember that feeling now in combination with all of the things that I loved about the whole project over time and the feeling of ending the day and starting the next day with the feeling of an idea still to be expressed and sort of taking shape. And I feel like there is this kind of. Not that making something or researching or just work generally on any kind of large project. It's obviously very difficult at times and there are times that you don't want to be doing it. Like nothing worth doing can be fun all the time, I think. But it feels like to me the joy of finishing is so much smaller than the joy of doing something if you're doing the thing that you need to be doing.
B
I started to feel the same way recently. The joy of being in the process of knowing what you're doing every morning, having a goal, often a singular goal, just one project, one intention, and living in that day to day, waking up and knowing what you're going to do. That is a more subtle joy, but a more enduring joy than that dopamine rush of finishing it. So I've tried to teach myself, tried to learn how to settle into that joy a little bit more.
A
Yeah, I love that. All right, Noah Webster? All right, Noah, what's for you?
B
So this book is published three years later in 1828 as an American Dictionary of the English Language. And this is nearly twice as big as Samuel Johnson's. Whereas Johnson's had around 40,000 entries, Webster's Dictionary contains around 70,000.
A
Honey.
B
Yep. It includes indigenous words like skunk and canoe. It introduces some distinctly American food staples such as applesauce and squash.
A
What were they feeding babies in England, I ask you? Just more gruel.
B
Yeah.
A
And opium, of course.
B
And his book also includes some new hyphenated words that are cropping up in America. Words like savings bank and reorganize.
A
The most American word of all, compound interest.
B
So as inclusive as this book was with all these new Americanisms, it's also noted for what that it doesn't include. And it doesn't include the U in color and honor. It doesn't include the final k at the end of public and picnic, which was very typical in English back then. And Webster, in fact, cuts out dozens of silent letters and Latin suffixes and superfluous vowels. You know, these changes that he had tried to implement decades earlier in his spelling reform, but which never caught on. And because he's slipping them in as part of this much larger lexicon, you know, 70,000 entries, they don't set off alarm bells. They don't really get noticed. And therefore he's able to smuggle them into American English quietly.
A
Oh, wow. It's like when the White House releases 70,000 pages of documents and it takes a while to realize how much they're spending on pens.
B
Yeah, it's like a big bill designed to create new housing, but it ends up taking away health care and food from everybody.
A
Just quietly. Just quietly. Yeah.
B
So here's just a short list of some of Webster's simplified spellings that were in his dictionary and have since been adopted in American English. We have theater and center ending er rather than re.
A
Oh, of course.
B
We have honor, color, neighbor, favorite without the U. We have program with 1M, wagon with 1G. We have plough spelled P L, O w rather than P L, O, U, G, H. And we have draught spelled D R, A, F, T rather than D, R, A, U, G, H, T.
A
It's so funny because so many of these spellings either kind of still exist, right? Where you're like, come with me to the theater. I love theater. And seeing it in the theater, you know, when they're having. When they have, like, a theater downtown that they still spell rent. So you're like seeing live theater in.
B
The theater or a mom and pop gift shop called Ye Olde Shop, and it's old with an e at the end and shop with two P's.
A
I love the Shoppa.
B
Yeah, it's like this indication that you're somehow genuine or nostalgic about an earlier, simpler time.
A
Right. It's like, well, look, this saltwater taffy store on the Oregon coast has been here since before Noah Webster's Dictionary, honey.
B
And I think spelling theater ending in re has that same effect on the American psyche as hearing a British accent try to explain something to you that's true.
A
It really does.
B
It automatically comes with more authority.
A
Yeah, yeah. It couldn't just be two guys from the pub.
B
So I have a couple examples of words that he spelled in his dictionary that didn't catch on. Spelling tung, T, U N G. I.
A
Do like that spelling.
B
I do too. And then also the word ake spelled A K, E. That's cute.
A
Yeah, it's so funny the stuff that works and that doesn't. But that apparently we were like, yeah, we don't need you and stuff. We weren't. A lot of us weren't even doing that anyway, to be honest.
B
So, yeah, I have a few other fun and bizarre definitions. Kind of like Johnson's. In Webster's dictionary, he includes the term kissing crust. Oh, do you want to guess what that means?
A
Oh my God. I mean, all I can think of is when you're kissing someone and their lips have a crust, what is it?
B
So it's actually the crust of a loaf that touches another.
A
Oh, that's so cute.
B
So when you're baking loaves of bread in the oven or cookies or muffins and they expand so much that they touch, that is the kissing crust.
A
And when cookies do it, it's the cookie crust. Oh no, it's still the kissing crust. But I wanted to get the word cookie in there to honor the duck.
B
Yeah, we can call it the cookie crust.
A
The cookie's kissing crust.
B
And then we have the word vernate, which means to become young again. And it's derived from the Latin word for spring.
A
Incredible. Yeah. This is so good. I also feel like if you can't keep up with today's slang, like don't try just like get old fashioned and make up your own weird words and then say it with conviction. This is why. Do you remember this was kind of a popular book in the late 90s 90s, there was a children's book called Frindle. Do you remember this? I do, yeah. Where a kid decided to start calling pens frindles. And then it caught on and adults tried to suppress it, but it didn't work. And then at the end of the book, frindle is in the dictionary. That was a good book.
B
Well, I think this should be your next big project then. You're 37, the same age as Samuel Johnson. You can start a nine year project of just words that you make up that have very believable definitions.
A
Well, you know, this is also the age at which Julia Child learned how to cook, which just I like as kind of an example of like, you know, how. I don't know I think maybe this is kind of an American thing too. Like, we want to call it on our lives as early as possible. We want to be like 25 in this country and be like, I know what the whole rest of my life is going to look like based on what the first part has looked like. It's like, clearly we have no idea. Because if you ask Julia Child At 36, they would be like, how much cooking have you done? And she'd be like, oh, my God, like none. I don't imagine that's going to come up later. But she would be incorrect.
B
Yeah, I actually, I have a couple friends that wrote a book. I'll give them a little plug. They wrote a book called the Swayze Year. And it's basically about people who hit their peak or got their break later in life. Patrick Swayze got his big break in Dirty Dancing at the age of 35.
A
Right. Far too old to be surviving on Jujubes.
B
So Samuel Johnson, he's the language authority in England. Webster, he's now the language authority in America. And this is where these dictionary wars start to take a turn.
A
So, yeah, Rock Em Sock Em Pattons and what?
B
So what began as these grand nation building projects, you know, two lexicographers trying to establish their country's identity and culture. It starts becoming a little bit more like high school drama. And that's where this guy Joseph Wooster comes in.
A
Oh, boy.
B
So Joseph Wooster, he's a teacher from New Hampshire. He's in his 40s, and he specializes in writing school textbooks. He's written a few on geography, a couple on history. And in 1828, he's hired to work on an abridged edition of Webster's Dictionary. But while he's working on this abridgment, Worcester is also putting together his own American dictionary, a competitor to Webster's. He's literally editing one dictionary and writing another simultaneously.
A
And does he spell his name Worcester, like Worcestershire sauce or like the College of Worcester and Ohio? Because I feel like that would place.
B
Him on a certain side, like Worcestershire sauce. W O R C E S T E R. Yep.
A
I don't know. I love that even his name is like, you know, in America we could take some of those letters out for you, just do a little talk.
B
And maybe that accounts for a little bit of the feud that does arise between him and Webs. So the thing about Worcester is he's more of a Samuel Johnson guy. He likes Johnson's British spellings. He believes British English is the true and proper English and he thinks Webster has been a little too reckless with his spellings and his Americanisms. So this abridged Webster's dictionary comes out in 1829. Worcester's Dictionary comes out in 1830. And even though Worcester is taking this more traditional British approach, critics start accusing him of plagiarizing Webster. A Massachusetts newspaper called the Palladium prints an anonymous letter that reads, quote, a gross plagiarism has been committed by Mr. Worcester on the literary property of Noah Webster. Mr. Worcester, having become acquainted with Mr. Webster's plan, immediately set about appropriating to his benefit the valuable labors, acquisitions and productions of Mr. Webster. Mr. Worcester has pilfered the products of the mind as readily as the common thief. And it sparks some controversy. Everyone starts pointing their fingers at Worcester. But here's the thing about the letter. Although it can't be proven, it's entirely possible that the anonymous author is Noah Webster himself.
A
No.
B
Webster was known to publish rave reviews of his own work under anonymous authorship.
A
No, I don't do that. So basically, back in the day, if you needed a sock puppet, you would just go to your friend's printing press or something, I guess.
B
Yeah. Walt Whitman, when Leaves of Grass came out, he actually published this rave anonymous review of the book. I mean, he used such larger than life language to describe himself. He says of himself, finally an American bard at last. And it wasn't till many years later that people started realizing, like looking through this letter and seeing all the earmarks of his rhythm and his language. I think it was very common then to publish rave reviews of yourself anonymously and also rave criticisms of others anonymously.
A
Well, naturally. I mean, it was, you know, life before the alt news groups. To be fair, Walt Whitman did warn us that he contained multitudes. He just didn't say that one of those multitudes like to give him rave reviews.
B
You know, everyone has an inner critic. Some people also have that outer critic that just is biased toward themselves.
A
I saw like a TikTok or something once where somebody was talking about, like trying to learn to make their inner voice sound like NBA player post game interviews, or to respond to it that way, you know, where it's like, what the is wrong with, with you? Why'd you do that? And you're like, you know, I just tried to get out there and do my best, play my best for my team. And, you know, you know, I think.
B
At the end of a writing day now I'm going to do a little personal press conference for myself. I'm going to turn on the selfie camera, look in, sit at a desk and say, hey, we tried our best. You know, at the end of the day, we all play as a team and we'll get them tomorrow.
A
And you know what? Houston's got a good team too. Sometimes. That's the way it goes.
B
Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose.
A
Some are born to sing the blues anyway. Okay, so Noah Webster's. You know, I guess if you've got such a strong dictionary writing hand, the bad reviews of others just fly off the page.
B
And the thing is, now that this controversy is out in public, Webster publishes another letter under his own name in the Palladium, the same Massachusetts newspaper.
A
He's like, I agree.
B
Exactly. He endorses this theory that Worcester has stolen his words and his definitions.
A
Oh, my God. He actually doesn't up carrot and says this.
B
And he actually specifies exactly 121 entries from Worcester's book that he claims can't be found in any other dictionary except his own. And he challenges Worcester to prove him wrong. So Worcester does prove prove him wrong. He publishes a letter in the Palladium citing other dictionaries that do include these 121 words. So Webster publishes another letter in the Palladium alleging various other breaches and violations. Worcester replies, and this letter war goes on for a year.
A
Wow.
B
Petty accusations, public takedowns, lexical snobbery. It's just the dictionary wars are in full swing now, don't you think?
A
We are where we are. We can't put the genie back in the bottle, but it does feel like the speed that things happen at. I just think that most human beings are better equipped to be in this kind of debate over the course of a year with, you write something and then you put it in an envelope and then you seal it with wax and then you give it to a guy on a horse and then eventually it gets to the right person. As opposed to just going back and forth in an online comment section over the course of an hour while you're making dinner and then just going through so many. Going through the number of emotions that you would normally get to spin out for weeks or months, and also just having no time to make sure you understand something correctly. I don't know. Again, I don't want to go back to the past, but the time frames seem kind of nice, right?
B
Literary feud back then took time. You had to put effort into it. You had to sleep on it. You had to write the letter and then write the rest tomorrow. You had to use a thesaurus you.
A
Had to sharpen your quill.
B
You had to sharpen your quill. You know, it was padded out so it was spread out. I think what Twitter has done is expedited our literary feuds, all our feuds in general, and condensed them from a year into three minutes.
A
The feuds are too fast now. I mean, even in the 90s, you know, Susan Sontag and Camille Pollia had to wait to both get on T. TV to talk about how much they hated each other. Yeah, maybe that was a fun one.
B
Maybe the problem is not that we feud, but that feuds are too fast.
A
Yeah, let's just, let's romanticize our feuds.
B
I mean, feuds are as American as skunk and Canoe.
A
There you go.
B
So, all right, so these dictionary wars are continuing, these petty feuds in this, in this newspaper. Then in 1843, Webster dies and his estate sells his dictionary rights to two siblings, Charles and George Merriam, who print and sell books in Massachusetts. And the Miriams not only carry on the Webster name, they also carry on Webster's feud with Worcester.
A
Ah, that's nice.
B
So three years after Webster dies in 1846, Worcester publishes a new, more comprehensive dictionary titled A Universal and Critical Dictionary of the English Language, which contains around 83,000 words, so about 10,000 more than Webster's. And the Miriams scour this new dictionary for examples of plagiarism which they don't find. So they ask a friend, a man named Noah Porter, to write a negative review of Worcester's book, basically a hit piece, and it gets published in this journal, American Review, and it accuses Worcester of including tens of thousands of absurd and extraneous words just to inflate his total entry count. Because in those days, a big selling point for dictionary was the number of entries it included. The more the better.
A
Now with 20% more words. Don't you love it when you're buying detergent and they're like, now with 10% more detergent, but that doesn't say then before. It just says more. And you're like, you didn't say what it was more than. I feel like you're lying to me. But anyway, it's just an issue I have.
B
You also didn't mention that the inflation rate of detergent quantity is lower than the inflation rate of the detergent price.
A
Exactly right, yeah. Shrinkflation is a concern. Another great new made up word that feels like it has to be American because, boy, do we do a lot of that here.
B
Yes, very true. Again, I think you should put together Your own lexicon.
A
Yeah, I'm right on the cusp. Okay, so he's accused of putting linguistic sawdust in his dictionary.
B
Exactly. The previous accusations of plagiarism are still hounding him, and his name is being sullied. And now at this point, I want to point out that Worcester has done nothing provably wrong. There's no evidence that he plagiarized Webster or inflated his book's pages to help market it. He's kind of the victim of this PR hit campaign waged by Webster and his estate. In fact, Worcester is generally considered to be a very kind and gentle guy. He's shy and quiet and a little socially awkward, but he's not pompous and arrogant like Webster. One contemporary said that in social situations, Worcester was, quote, want to sit silent, literally by the hour, a slumbering volcano of facts and statistics. While others talked, he would join the conversation occasionally, but then he would go back to being quiet. So he was the opposite of Webster in a lot of ways. It's kind of unfair that he gets. Yeah, his name gets, you know, dragged through the mud like this.
A
Well, he dared to be second and, you know. Yeah, sometimes that doesn't go so well if the first guy is still around. I also love that, like, the Mariams, rather than returning the unused portion of the feud, decided to just keep running with it. I mean, I guess it's like if you are the owner of the legacy or the steward of the legacy, then it's sort of. It makes sense to have more of an interest in doing that. But I don't know, it's just very charmingly petty. I mean, it's. I don't think that, like, we produce more or better information if everyone is fighting the whole time, but it's. I just like that it took this long for two guys to hate each other back then, that it passed on to, like, inheritors.
B
Right. Well, when you're talking about your typical novel or your typical nonfiction book, there's plenty of room in the world for books that overlap with that subject. But I guess in this world of early dictionaries, there really is only room for one authoritative version of something. The American dictionary, the English Dictionary. And I think the Miriams really see that it's important that they stomp out Worcester and they raise up the Webster name and they continue to do this.
A
It's like the restaurants in LA that are all competing to have invented the French dip. Is it? If anyone cares, I care a little, but come on.
B
No, it's exactly the Same thing. So a few years after Worcester publishes his Universal and Critical Dictionary, a publisher in London puts out an unauthorized edition of it that essentially lists Worcester and Webster as co authors.
A
Oh, no.
B
It's unclear why, but Worcester likely suspects that the Miriams have something to do with it. So Worcester publishes a pamphlet titled A Gross Literary Fraud Exposed relating to the publication of Worcester's Dictionary in London, which blames the London publisher and other unspecified parties for conspiring to lower Worcester's standing. So what do the Miriams do? They publish a pamphlet with the exact same title, A Gross Literary Fraud Exposed relating to the publication of Worcester's Dictionary in London. But this one is in defense of Webster, and its effect is essentially to sully the waters because now no one will know which pamphlet is Worcester's, which one is the Miriams, and who to trust at all.
A
Well, that was pretty sneaky.
B
It's pretty. It's pretty smart. So Worcester, no matter what he does, he's just always under this shadow of suspicion that he's at worst a plagiarist or at best a knockoff Noah Webster, man. And this goes on for years and years. The Miriams continue to publish pieces against Worcester, degrading his scholarship, boosting Webster's name. And at one point in the 1850s, the Merriams hear through the grapevine that Worcester is planning to publish an illustrated dictionary, which was kind of a novel thing then. So the Miriams rush out a hastily published illustrated Webster's Dictionary just to beat Worcester to market. It's all petty as fuck.
A
Oh my God. And is there like. Is there like big dictionary money to fight over or is this more personal?
B
There's a lot of dictionary money.
A
Okay.
B
I think it's estimated that in the 1800s, Webster's Dictionary sells tens of millions of copies. And especially if you're considered the one true authoritative version of something, then you're going to be in every school classroom, you're going to be in every desk, you're going to be in every home. So yeah, there is a lot of money in this. And I think Webster's original dictionary in 1828 sells for $20, which is a huge price back then. So yeah, they're. They're raking in the money.
A
Yeah.
B
So the Miriams, they finally win this fight in 1865 when Worcester dies, and at last they're free to market Webster's Dictionary without any competition. And in the end, I guess, Webster not only wins these wars, but he obliterates all competition. He obliterates Worcester. He obliterates Johnson. And it eventually reaches the point that today the name Webster is practically synonymous with the word dictionary. No one says look it up in Worcester's or look it up in Johnson's. But most people would know what I meant if I said look it up in Webster's.
A
But the joke's on him because he's dead by the time he wins that one.
B
So there's a little addendum to all this, and it's that in 1889, the Merriam brothers lose their copyright on the Webster name, and a surge of knockoff Webster dictionaries pollute the market to the point where Merriam Webster, which is still considered the official Webster's, is eventually forced to come up with a tagline to distinguish themselves. So their tagline that they still use today is not just Webster. Merriam Webster.
A
That's a terrible tagline.
B
And yet this is what they have had to resort to. And interestingly, today, the term Webster's Dictionary is considered a genericized trademark, which means it is still not protected by copyright. So technically, anyone can publish their own dictionary and call it Webster's. Which again, brings me to the reason I'm here today. Sarah. I think that you need to publish Sarah Marshall's Webster's Dictionary of Made Up Words. And I think it should take you.
A
Nine years and 18th century insults. Yeah, and that'll. And then I'll. After nine years, I'll emerge and spend, you know, my menopause having a feud, but I'm gonna insist that it happen longhand. And that'll. That'll be fun, too.
B
Yeah, Longhand and in print media, definitely not online. So you're gonna have to buy some stamps, buy some envelopes, and pick your feuding partner early.
A
Because it's a commitment, you know, I mean, a feud is not to be entered into lightly, really.
B
No.
A
You're going to grow old together.
B
Nor do you need two parties to agree to a feud. Really. Just one party.
A
What was it like for you to both spend the time writing this book and now to finish it and to be kind of now looking for the next thing. But how has it been for you to spend time with all of these feuding. Sometimes it extremely unpleasant. 18th century guys. Do you miss them?
B
I truly. I fell in love with all of these characters. Some of them are so eccentric, and some of them were brilliant eccentrics. You know, Noah Webster, certainly Benjamin Franklin. And then there were some who were clearly out of their minds. But I do love them all, and I really like obsessive people. Maybe not in the room with me. But looking back historically, I like people who get very pedantically obsessed with one tiny little thing for long periods of their life, and they see it as something that's going to improve the world or create a utopia. You know, Noah Webster with his simplified spelling, or any number of these really obsessive hobbyists who really had a lot of time in their hands and could devote decades to a single project. And in the end, a lot of these projects didn't work. And I also love the futility of it. I think there's just something poetic and beautiful looking back on it. The futility of being really in love with a project that doesn't work out.
A
Yeah. Yeah. And then maybe the phenomenon where the project is the thing in a way, where we're, you know, especially in our culture, very results oriented, perhaps because we. We don't even have time to put the you in color. So why on earth would we savor the moment? But that you look at somebody who had this grand dream that didn't work out or that sort of. They remained in obscurity, at least during their lifetime, and you think, well, that might have been just fine. If the project is enough to give your life shape and meaning, then maybe it's in a way better to not become successful and then end up having some kind of weird feud that lasts beyond your own death.
B
I mean, that's true. The moment you become public, you become maybe a target for people who are jealous, like a Noah Webster type. You become a target for people who really just want to take you down a notch. Or a target for a mouth friend, someone who pretends to be your friend but really isn't.
A
Oh, my God. I also just. Yeah, I love the failed slang. I do just love the way certain language feels just to say and to read. You know, it's kind of like old baseball names. Like, just give me a list of old baseball names. I'll be happy.
B
Shoeless Joe Belly God. Mouth friend.
A
Shoeless Joe Belly God from the Akron kissing crests. Well, okay. We've survived the dictionary wars. Thank you for taking us safely through this battlefield.
B
Thank you for indulging me. I know this is, you know, this is a subject that I think from afar can look kind of, you know, dusty and old. Old. But at its heart, really, language is about so many things that have to do with our culture, and it's about access and literacy and identity and communication. I think I always feel closely attached to this subject when I'm writing about it. When I'm reading about it, it really does make up so much of the ether of our life. And I think it's invisible to a lot of us.
A
Yeah. Yeah. And then it is like so many things, once you start paying attention to it, it really rewards the attention that you give. And there's just so much joy in language. It feels. I love getting to. I don't know, getting to encounter this history and seeing how language can, you know, always has been in one place or another, in one way or another, used as a tool of control and oppression, and yet that doesn't define it. And the sort of weirdness of it and the history that gets picked up by it and, you know, the way that people every day are finding new ways to use language just makes me happy. Thank you so much for. For taking us on this trip.
B
Thank you.
A
Sarah, tell us again what your book is. Where can people find it? Would it make a good stocking stuffer? I really think it would.
B
It would make a fantastic stocking stuffer. It's actually in the shape of a stocking, which means the shape of a foot.
A
You got to kind of wrestle it in, actually. But once it's in there, yeah, it looks good.
B
So the book is enough is Enough. The second Enough is spelled E N U S subtitle Our failed attempts to make English easier to spell. My name is Gabe Henry. You can find me on Instagram at Gabe Henry. And yeah, I'd love to talk more about this book with anyone who's interested in talking about it.
A
Yeah. And, you know, and if you got any letters written by a quill, then perhaps that's from a listener. I certainly hope it is.
B
I hope so too.
A
And that is our episode. Thank you so much for being here. Thank you for listening. Thank you to Gabe Henry, our wonderful guest. You can find Gabe's book Enough Is Enough and more about his work. LinkedIn LinkedIn LinkedIn the show notes. Thank you to Miranda Zickler for editing and producing. We have bonus episodes for you on Patreon and Apple. Plus, check out the Devil you Know and take good care of yourself. We'll see you next time.
Host: Sarah Marshall
Guest: Gabe Henry
Date: November 11, 2025
In this episode, Sarah Marshall is joined by Gabe Henry, author of Enough Is Enough: Our Failed Attempts to Make English Easier to Spell, to dive into the surprisingly dramatic history of dictionaries and spelling reform in English. Together, they unpack the "Dictionary Wars" – a centuries-long, distinctly petty but consequential feud over how American English should be codified and who gets to decide what “correct” English is. Through witty banter and memorable anecdotes, Sarah and Gabe explore how language evolves, why Americans spell things differently from the British, and how obsession and ego shaped the English dictionaries we use today.
On English’s mongrel roots:
“I tend to think of [English] more as, like, eight languages in a trench coat.”
—Gabe, (06:02)
On obsessive lexicographers:
“When Samuel Johnson was anxious or bored, he would obsessively count lines of Latin poetry...Noah Webster...would obsessively count the houses of every new city that he visited.”
—Gabe, (17:46)
On early American English:
“It’s almost like the language is going through an adolescent rebellion, in a way.”
—Sarah, (13:11)
On Noah Webster’s personality:
“Most of his peers don’t like him.”
—Gabe, (33:39)
On failed spelling reforms:
“I ain’t yet quite ripe for your orthography.”
—Ezra Stiles (Webster’s brother-in-law), quoted by Gabe, (33:21)
Insults of the 18th century:
“There was a New Yorker article...where someone who knew Jared Kushner at Harvard called him a snaky motherfucker. And I think that every time I see him and have for nine years.”
—Sarah, (34:24)
On the limits of language reform:
“People are really tied...to tradition and identity, and these are things that people just don’t like changing.”
—Gabe, (38:39)
On the enduring power of language:
“Language is about so many things that have to do with our culture, and it’s about access and literacy and identity and communication.”
—Gabe, (69:31)
On the joy of language and creation:
“If the project is enough to give your life shape and meaning, maybe it’s in a way better to not become successful and then end up having some kind of weird feud that lasts beyond your own death.”
—Sarah, (68:34)
Gabe and Sarah turn what could be a dry topic – dictionary feuds – into a lively, revealing exploration of how language, culture, and individual quirks shape what we read and write today. The episode offers not just history but a meditation on creativity, the futility and beauty of big projects, and the endless fun of English words.
For fans of history, language, and the delightfully petty, this is an essential listen.