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Rating: I used to hang around Debaser back when it was just the one and only list of albums reviewed.
Then times changed. The devil created the miniskirt and with it came the column for film reviews.
That's how I realized we were entering a new historical period, fresher and more modern, and I decided to join the wave by writing a few ocular reviews (which have nothing to do with diopters).
Finally, just because everything flows, the Berlin Wall was torn down, Bush dodged a shoe in the face, and ultimately, the so-called interior review column made its triumphant entrance on the homepage.
Without trying to explain why the book column is called interior (and therefore, by logic, I suppose that the album and film columns are exterior), I'm about to leave my mark in the realm of print: I've decided to review a book.
And the best way to do it is to review something absolutely stupid and futile. But deep down, it can save your life if you're in a foreign country (except France, where if you ask something in English, they say they only understand French, but if you then speak French, they say your pronunciation is not up to par, and so you have to speak English).
So that is why, briefly, just to waste your time and also a bit of mine, I present to you today the legendary "Oxford Study Dictionary (English-Italian / Italian-English)."
To understand the importance of this work, we have to go way back in time. Specifically, this morning. In fact, I had gone down to get milk and was walking along whistling when Johnny Sentence stopped me and said:
"Hey, kid, what's that thing sticking out of your coat pocket?"
"Well, sir, it's my Oxford Dictionary!" - I replied proudly.
"Oh, good for you, son! Think that once that dictionary saved my life!"
"Really?" - I replied, astonished - "How?!"
"Well, once a guy punched me really hard in the stomach. But since I had my trusty Oxford Dictionary tucked in my pants, it acted as a shield and the guy's punch did me no harm. So that thing saved my lower life and my stomach!"
Then, with a nod of the head, we bid farewell. And now I find myself here writing this review while I've heard that Johnny Sentence was riddled with bullets at a nearby dump. But that's another story. Let's get back to the dictionary.
As you can see from the image (which is of a more recent version than mine - bought with the old lira), it's first of all clear that this dictionary has the power to bring happiness to anyone who uses it. Don't you see the culture and elegance that shines through the smiles of those kids? As if to say: "Yes, we know English! And if the occasion arises, we can even hook up!"
Then it's certainly interesting to mention the names of those who enabled this work to come to life: Colin McIntosh (editor) and Michael Ashby (phonetics expert). Just for the record, I found these photos on Google, so it's possible they are homonyms, but the high degree of seriousness that shines through the faces in the photos convinced me to leave them.
My edition is from 1998, so in the meantime, the English language has been enriched with new and elegant words (things like double bag-girl or sonaffabbitch). However, this edition remains, even for literary criticism, somewhat the milestone of the long and historic saga of Oxford Study.
Furthermore, you can tell from some strictly "technical" features that I've decided to point out:
1 When you open the dictionary, there's a drawing of a guy with a big nose asking: "How can the Oxford Study help me?", and all of us readers are as curious as he is to solve the dilemma. The authors resolve it by providing hundreds of examples and fussy explanations on how to consult it all; but in the end, we know it's just a dictionary, so we open it without too much fuss;
2 Halfway through the dictionary, to separate the "English-Italian" part from the "Italian-English" one, the two legends mentioned above decided to include some tasty work sheets: among the many, there's one that explains what the telephone alphabet is like in English: while in Italian, when we have to spell our name over the phone, we usually use city names, in English, they use people's first names. And then we astonishingly discover that TEO is no longer Torino-Empoli-Otranto, but rather Tommy-Edward-Oliver!
3 At the end of the dictionary, all the typical units of measurement of the land of Albion are rolled out one after the other: curious and formidable words like gallon (great poultry animal), square inch (a malformed person), and they nearly missed including spherical nose and sarcastic bottom;
4 Last but not least, how can we not mention the first and last word of the dictionary:
"A": A for Andrew = A as in Ancona; Awful begins with an "a"!
"Zuppiera": soup tureen.
Pointing out that the last word was not a Milanese insult, I would say the review ends here. There would be much more to say, but as the saying goes: "It's better to read The Divine Comedy than to analyze it (or just listen to Benigni directly)". Therefore, I invite you to purchase the precious work reviewed here, ready to start this new week in the spirit of good humor and a smile! Or just start it, since every day we are forced to perform mechanical actions...
Greetings to the old flags of the site, and as someone once said: "Che Dio t'assista!" (and as translated by someone else: "That God Taxi Driver!").
DanteCruciani.
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