01/17/2025
"The thesaurus is often scorned as a trinket case filled with useless fancy words. Why be stuck with ordinary workaday "speed" when you can impress with the gossamer sheen of "celerity"? I once knew a writer who claimed that using one was a stain upon the craft, since the words should come burbling out of your inner source and nowhere else. Which is all fine and mystical, except that sometimes you do need a substitute for that one word that keeps insistently recurring in your text, and sometimes you seek a shade of meaning that just refuses to appear on your mental palette, and sometimes you have to retrieve that term, on the tip of your tongue, that keeps eluding you, maybe for deeply embarrassing psychological reasons. The dictionary is a great place to see language laid out in neat alphabetical rows, like an army at a ceremonial drill. You sense its massive breadth and might, note the rare words flitting by in their exquisite plumage, admire the deep versatility of a plebeian word like "set." The thesaurus, on the other hand, is an immense illustrated bird guide, with row upon row, page after page of related specimens that initially look identical, until you notice this tuft of gray feathers, that extra band around the eye. No two are exactly alike, just as no two words ever mean exactly the same thing. W. H. Auden said that a poet should "hang around words and overhear them talking to one another." Roget's Thesaurus is a convenient place to find them, gathered in their affinity groups."
Lucy Sante
Part four of How to Sit Down