Book review

by Elizabeth Potter

Gallimaufry: A Hodgepodge of our Vanishing Vocabulary

This is a book for those who delight in obscure words and the obsolete or vanishing practices and objects they refer to. Its author Michael Quinion is the man behind the excellent World Wide Words website, first port of call for anyone seeking explanations of those tricky words and phrases that embellish the English language and give native speakers and learners alike so much trouble and delight.

For his latest book, Quinion has gathered between hard, fuchsia-coloured covers, a couple of thousand words designed to appeal to the word connoisseur. To start at the beginning, what exactly is a gallimaufry? You might deduce from the book’s subtitle that it is a mixture or collection, perhaps a random one, and you would be correct. If you look up the entry, however, you will discover that, like hodgepodge, its origin was culinary. In fact, the 16th century gallimaufry (from the French galimafrée), like its 15th century companion hodgepodge (or hotchpotch), was a mixture of different foods: while a hodgepodge was a meat broth containing many ingredients, a gallimaufry was a hash made up of leftovers. Both words have come to mean a random collection of disparate items, their culinary origins all but forgotten.

The book is divided into five sections with titles such as Food and Drink, and Transport and Fashion. Within these are chapters with fanciful titles such as Skilligalee and boiled babies, and Wigs on the green. Although it is theoretically possible to read the book from cover to cover, I imagine this would get tiresome; much more fun to dip in and out, reading a section on bygone games here, another on obsolete modes of transport there. Browsing the index is fun too. Everyone will be familiar with some of the items covered. No British person of the author’s generation (and mine) will be at a loss to know what carbon paper might be used for, or what you might keep in a pantry. Aficionados of the Harry Potter books may well remember what a bezoar is, while there are still children out there wearing a boater as part of their school uniform. But there is plenty here to puzzle and intrigue the most knowledgeable of word freaks: who or what is a biting arsmart, you may wonder; do you wear, eat or ride a baudekin (or is it baudekin without an article?); is a bioscope a scientific instrument or a form of entertainment?

Michael Quinion’s website is marked by its scholarly approach to linguistic explanation, coupled with a commendable willingness to admit that the origins of a phrase are a mystery, rather than settling for some plausible folk etymology. The same is true of this book. The author ferrets out a great deal of information about the history of the words and practices he describes, but is happy to admit on occasion:

nobody knows where this one comes from.

The book will give hours of pleasure to anyone with an interest in unusual words and the social history that lies behind them.