According to Merriam-Webster online, the English language contains roughly one million words — though that tally includes “myriad names of chemicals and other scientific entities.”
Furthermore, this site — which offers lots of other cool info besides just meanings — also points out that there’s considerable disagreement on the actual total; as an example, even M-W’s own authoritative Third New International Dictionary (1993) runs to less than half that figure.
Here at “Weird Words,” our specialty is unusual terms from this linguistic cornucopia — not only definitions, but also pronunciation, part of speech and other info like etymology.
Here are eight in a million for this week:
Antiphlogistic (ann-tee-flah-JISS-tik, adj.) – This mouthful has a relatively straightforward definition: It describes something that acts against fever or inflammation. The word’s etymology, however, is somewhat more surprising.
Its base, phlog, can be traced back to phlox and phlegm, which are both related to flame. Phlox, you see, is a plant with fiery leaves — and phlegm is associated with high body temp (i.e., fever).
Battue (buh-TOO [or -TYOO], noun) – “The beating or driving of game from cover toward a stationary hunter”; also, a hunting party that uses this technique (Random House Collegiate).
Casuarina (kah-zhyoo-uh-REE-nuh [or -zyuh-wuh-], noun) – “A tree with slender, jointed, drooping leaves that resemble horsetails, and bear tiny scale-like leaves. It is native to Australia and Southeast Asia, and is a valuable source of timber and firewood” (from Google, via Oxford Languages).
Choultry (CHOLE-tree [with the ch of chore], noun) – This rarity is not in some of my go-to dictionaries — even the vast and inclusive Collins. But Merriam-Webster has it!
Choultry is a Far Eastern word (condensed from the Tamil cavati) for an inn or caravansary (another great “weird word”). The latter is “an inn surrounding a court in eastern countries where caravans rest at night.” Jazz-rock fans might recognize that longer term from the slightly respelled title (Caravanserai) of a terrific 1972 Santana album.
Horripilation (haw-rip-uh-LAY-shun, noun) – Yep, this is related to “horror”; it means bristling of skin-hair from fear or cold — i.e., goose bumps (Dictionary.com). Horror itself originates there as well — another word-source aligning with Emerson’s long-ago theory that virtually every vocab meaning can be traced back to something physical; in this case, the modest family of horr- words (horrify, horrendous, etc.) — these all spring ultimately from … hedgehog! (Online Etymology Dictionary)
Quagga (KWA-guh [with the A-sound of bag], noun) – “Zebra-like mammal of southern Africa, extinct since the late 19th century” (American Heritage).
Succedaneum (suck-suh-DAY-nee-um, noun) – Merriam-Webster has this as a simple synonym for “substitute”; according to the broader Collins, it’s most often a medical term — for a drug or agent used in place of another.
While some sources connect it to succeed (tough to see the relation there), M-W indicates that the word contains a respelling of the common Latin base cid(e), meaning “cut” or “kill” (as in homicide, etc.) — and thus it was originally a substitute provided in religious sacrifice.
In any case, the term is now probably best known from a long, garbled monologue in Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot. Since that existential masterpiece is currently enjoying a boffo Broadway revival — starring Bill & Ted’s Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter — perhaps our next “Weird Words” can unpack some of the other oddball terms in that pun-filled play.
Wharfinger (WAR-fin-jer, noun) – Someone who owns or takes charge of a dock — or (you guessed it) a wharf. Now widely replaced by harbormaster, the term nonetheless has its own Wikipedia page. Here we learn (among other things) that wharfinger appears in Dickens’ Pickwick Papers, where it’s Mr. Winkle’s job-title.
Watch this space for a future installment on words from Godot — if you can wait!
(“They do not move.”)
