The Harry Ransom Center at the University of Texas-Austin has listed all the words David Foster Wallace circled—apparently, he did not underline—in his American Heritage Dictionary. Slate published the long list yesterday. Since I have not read a lick by DFW, I won't comment on his writing—nor will I make fun of him for wearing bandanas (look to the left) or having hipsterish author photos taken of him in the middle of cornfields.
But back to the list. While I was thrilled that the first word he circled is an alliterative grammatical term—ablative absolute—I was surprised to see that he circled words as basic as "bisque" and "citronella" and "sateen." (That he, a man not fluent in women's shoe speak, circled "espadrille" is not so odd.) His list has some great words, such as "coxcomb"—a fop or dandy; and "lucubrate"—literally, to study by lamplight. Fun fact: Lucubrare, the Latin verb from which "lucubrate" derives, was Cicero's favorite verb.
And how can one forget the splendid word for the small scraps we leave after a meal, our "orts"? The next time my dogs beg and stomp their tiny feet for food from my plate, I'll say, "Be patient, animals, and you shall have a portion of these orts."
But back to the list. While I was thrilled that the first word he circled is an alliterative grammatical term—ablative absolute—I was surprised to see that he circled words as basic as "bisque" and "citronella" and "sateen." (That he, a man not fluent in women's shoe speak, circled "espadrille" is not so odd.) His list has some great words, such as "coxcomb"—a fop or dandy; and "lucubrate"—literally, to study by lamplight. Fun fact: Lucubrare, the Latin verb from which "lucubrate" derives, was Cicero's favorite verb.
And how can one forget the splendid word for the small scraps we leave after a meal, our "orts"? The next time my dogs beg and stomp their tiny feet for food from my plate, I'll say, "Be patient, animals, and you shall have a portion of these orts."