The Concise Oxford Dictionary
Ninth Edition
Oxford University Press
Editor: Della Thompson


(Warning: If you haven’t read The Ninth Edition and plan to, the following review contains a plot spoiler)

Unlike the hugely successful fiction novel we have come to know and love, the original dictionary was quite a different story.

Written in 1604 by Robert Cawdrey, it is odd to think that the book was essentially no more than a tool in order to help people better their language, or as Cawdrey himself put it, “for the benefit & helpe of Ladies, Gentlewomen, or any other vnskilfull persons”. However, before Oxford University Press polished it up, the workmanship was rather shoddy; aside from Cawdrey’s awful spelling (‘wordes’), which simultaneously makes it laughable that he should have felt able for the project (and reminds writers worldwide the importance of a spell check), he also doesn’t seem to be aware of any words beginning with J, K, U, W, X and Y.

As we all know, when Oxford University Press saw the potential in Cawdrey’s work and decided to take it along a fiction route it was one of the smartest business moves in the history of literature (if we momentarily disregard God’s 'The Bible', which was bound to be a global bestseller when you consider the author's talents). However, is the press’ insistence of rehashing what is essentially the same novel worthwhile to us as readers?

Sadly, the answer is a resounding ‘no’. Currently speaking we are up to the twelfth edition, but it is widely accepted that the Ninth Edition, edited by Della Thompson, is the worst in the Concise Dictionary series. Despite the fact that its cover screams out ‘major new edition!’ and fans will be hard-pushed to find much different to the prequels, the main problem lies in Thompson’s story telling. The old adage ‘show, not tell’ has been broken on many levels here, and the reader is rarely left to figure things out for themselves.

Whilst the ‘journal entry’ format has been done many a time in the fiction world, it is admittedly done well within these pages and suits the style of the prose amicably. Unfortunately, Thompson seems to find it difficult to get to grips with this format, repeatedly writing journal entries about the letter ‘A’ at the very beginning of the novel. Why these superfluous entries, which pretty much state the same thing over and over, were not removed before being sent to the press is left a mystery (especially considering that Thompson is herself an editor by trade). After these false starts we are finally introduced to our first character, Aardvark. It’s unfortunate to report that the potential of opening a novel with such a surreal character was lost, as we are quickly given an information dump about this rather shallow character (this occurs frequently throughout the book).

On a positive note, the rather outlandish storyline and provocative descriptions (to quote a line from the unforgettable vomit entry: ‘Eject violently, belch forth.’) encompasses a wide range of ideas and sub-plots with effortless ease, if a little hard to follow at times. And while the beginning is somewhat lacking, to her credit Thompson has crafted a marvellous and unpredictable ending; who can put their hands up after reading the book and honestly say they saw ‘Zymurgy’ coming?

Regardless of the fact that it is easy to dip in and out of the novel at random, the book as a whole is a bit of a disappointment and ultimately seems that Oxford Press need to take heed of the oft quoted phrase ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’. And on a final note to those of you who still plan to find out what all the fuss is about, be warned that some of the language can get quite complex.

As a result, it might be worth keeping a copy of Cawdrey’s Table Alphabeticall to hand.

zeke @ tittybiscuits.com