In college, I took a class called History of English, where the incredible Anne Curzan took us through the entire story of the English language, and I was first introduced to the Oxford English Dictionary (OED). We were required to utilize the OED pretty much on a daily basis, which I had no problem with, except for the fact that I would often delve too deep and get focused on something else entirely and forget about my homework! (I have been trying to find a way to spin this obsessiveness into a positive for job search purposes: Initiative! Hunger for knowledge! Self-motivation!)
This book was chosen as an example of a microhistory, a study of a single thing or event in history, namely the Oxford English Dictionary. As such, I truly enjoyed the part of it as the definition of the lives behind an event. As a writer, I have always gravitated towards the stories rather than the cold facts, and this was no exception. The Professor and The Madman describes two men and the significant roles they played in the creation of the OED: James Murray was the Professor who spearheaded the actual compilation of the majority of the dictionary, and Dr. W. C. Minor is the madman who sent in thousands of slips with words and definitions and usage examples per Mr. Murray's request. The book does not start with either of their lives, for the creation of the OED was sparked much much earlier: it starts with an introduction to both men at the pivotal point in their lives, the point that made them each into who they were required to be for the dictionary's creation, and then begins again at the inception of the dictionary as an idea. I enjoyed the pace of the story: it felt very deliberate and comprehensive, two adjectives I am sure are often used to describe the OED itself.
Similarly, I noted how the definitions that set off each chapter almost act as identifiers of the subject or theme of the chapter. In addition, they serve as evidence of that which the microhistory is describing, the dictionary itself. They are tangible evidence of the staying fact of the OED as well as examples of its entries, and this lends a sort of fullness to the book that I don't believe there would be otherwise. Some entries, like that of "elephant" (chapter 5, page 101), are referred to in the text, with descriptions of the actual process of defining the word for the OED, but others serve a more abstract purpose, such as the definition of "lunatic" in chapter 3, when Dr. Minor's manias are picked apart. It would be remiss not to include examples of what makes this subject great, and Winchester does a quality job of not only providing examples, but providing definitions that add to the texture of the story.
A final thought. My generation grew up with encyclopedias and reference guides and the internet, all these myriad ways of accessing reams of information with the click of a finger or the flick of a page. It is truly the information era, where everyone has access to as much or as little knowledge as they so desire. In this way, it is difficult to imagine a time when we did not have these things, which is precisely where and when this book is set. It is hard to think about the actual original creation or compiling of these behemoths of intelligence when we are so programmed to use them to find any information at all. It is wholly refreshing, however, to think back to such a time, and while Winchester makes a number of references to his present and his future, such as describing the total number of volumes of the OED at its completion or its conversion to a web-based dictionary, he also allows the reader to stay firmly established in the world, which is not something many nonfiction writers can do.
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