When I was back in high school, my local town public library inexplicably sold off their full-size, 20-volume 2nd edition of the Oxford English Dictionary (hereafter ‘OED’). It was $75 and would have occupied an entire book case. Being a broke kid I couldn’t afford it, and I always regretted that.
For those of you unfamiliar with the OED, it’s the... definitive... English language dictionary that belongs in your library reference collection.
Language and etymology fascinate me. The way that words are derived and come into being is a source of never-ending intrigue. The wonderful aspect of the OED is that it provides citations for the first usage of words, as well as in subsequent periods, so you can trace the history of words and how their meanings evolve over time—this is why it’s so useful as a reference tool.
In 1971, a Compact Edition was published of the 1933, then-13 volume OED (first edition). It was not an abridgement, but rather a photoreduction of the entire magnificent, flawed and glorious original (including the first supplement), with 4 pages fitted onto 1 page. A magnifying glass was provided to assist in reading the entries, as the type is incredibly minute.
While Compact Edition OEDs are not necessarily rare, they’re not something you can simply pick up casually at the bookstore. Used copies typically go for around $40 to $50—a not-insignificant outlay for a pauper. So it tends to be an item that people desire, for years and years—serendipitous acquisitions tend to be unlikely.
When I saw the post, I had just woken up and was rather groggy. I was shocked. Who the heck puts an OED out on the curb?!
I hurriedly threw on some sweats and ran out the door. I thought there was little to no chance the tomes would still be on the curb, but I absolutely had to take a look, just in case.
The post was an hour old already. And it would take me at least another forty minutes to get to the location. I distinctly remember the anxious blur of the streetcar ride west along College. My head was pounding, and all I could think of was whether someone else would beat me to the spot and snatch up this treasure. I steeled myself for the inevitable disappointment.
I got off the streetcar, and dashed up Dovercourt like a madman. When I arrived at the corner I could hardly believe my eyes: the OED was still sitting there!! Like somebody’s castoff toilet or dresser. After recovering my breath I happily put it into a bag, and carted it back home (it weighs a ton by the way):
Practically mint condition! The magnifying glass (normally stored in the little drawer you see at the top) was missing, but how could I complain when I had just scored the dictionary for nothing? There was a wet snowfall the very next day, so it turned out I had lucked out on that front too. This copy is the May 1979 17th printing of the 1971 Compact Edition (which is a photoreduction of the 1933 OED1 including the first supplement).
If you don’t get what the fuss is about, let me simply state that it’s pretty nifty to have the entire English language as we understood it in 1933, sitting on your bookshelf.
[As an aside this gives me a dilemma in that if I ever come across the 1987 3-volume edition with the 2nd supplement, or the 1989 OED2 single volume based on the 2nd edition, I’ll probably want those as well...]
I offered the poster of the alert some Skittles as a finder’s reward, but they declined and said they were just happy to see the OED had gone to a good home.
Hooray Bunz!
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