I don’t remember ever not being a reader. If there is text in front of me, I read it. I collect words and repeat them to myself, savoring the way they sound in my brain.
One of the most frustrating things for me the year I spent an extended time in France was how limited my vocabulary was. I knew enough French to get by and have rudimentary conversations, but my speaking and comprehension was on a low level. I could say that it was cold out, or it was raining, but I didn’t know how to say that it was blustery. Or drizzling. Or that the wind whipped around the buildings and whistled down the alleys, pushing me off my feet and leaving me gasping for breath.
No, I was limited to “it’s cold.”
In English I know the nuances of a word’s meaning. I can parse vocabulary and try to pick the just-right-PERFECT word to express my feelings or thoughts. Any other language has me speaking like a preschooler.
I’d never before appreciated the intricacies of language so much, and been so happy to get back to familiar soil where I could choose the words I wanted to use, not just the ones I knew. I began to really recognize how some words were extra special to me, because of their sound or their meaning.
Epiphany.
I love that word. I love the way it sounds when I say it. I love what it means. I love the idea of it. It’s what caught my attention when Adrienne told me about the writing book she’d found – how could I not want to read it, with one of my favorite words ever in the title?
Do you have any favorite words, ones that will guarantee you’ll pick up a book (if only for a closer look) if they’re in the title? Or are there any words that will all but guarantee you’ll pass on a book if they’re in the title?
Disclosure: This post contains affiliate links. Thank you for supporting The Deliberate Reader!
Oh, I am stoked about this one. Thank you for sharing it! I see myself in your post…I read any words before me. I love cereal boxes and shampoo bottles and get excited to read the backs of new ones.
I can only imagine how frustrating it would be to have to go with the simplest descriptions in another country. Favorite words? I probably can’t think of them on the spot. I love “segue.”
I am generally *terrible* at thinking of things on the spot. One of the things I’m worst at is an impromptu “what are you reading” question. Invariable I blank out and can’t remember any of the books I’m reading, or that I’ve just finished.
Isn’t it fun when you discover certain products that sneak in fun bits of info on their products? Tea boxes are especially good at that I’ve found.
Segue is a nice word. Can’t think of any books with it in the title, but that might relate more to my above comment about blanking out on the spot, rather than an actual derth of segue titles.
I love that word, too. It reminds me of moments of clarity in relationships, many of mine decorated with shooting stars sent my way. I love the holiday, Epiphany, as well. And I’m sure I’ll love this book when I finally remember to get it. You did a beautiful job expressing what I’ve known as a language learner in my travels. It’s really interesting to me that different languages have different levels of specificity in vocabulary. You can learn a lot about a people by studying what they’ve made up words to describe, like how many words for various kinds of love, etc. If I remember right, French is one of the top languages as far as the number of words to express various concepts.
Yes. I do love it especially because it reminds me of the one and only time I had one related to where I was supposed to go to college, and how it sustained me through the years at that school. I hadn’t wanted to go there, had zero desire to be there, but I had such peace because I absolutely *knew* that it was where I was supposed to be.
When I was in France I had a “conversation” with a French national about words one day, and different ways to describe something. He told me there was no way to say what I wanted to say, and I never knew if there really wasn’t, or if my limited French and his English (better than my French, but still limited) weren’t enough for me to even explain what I was wanting to say.