--> ast year the editors of the American Heritage Dictionary released the long-awaited fourth edition of the American Heritage College Dictionary, and to mark the occasion they compiled a list titled "100 Words That Every High School Graduate Should Know." A senior editor of the dictionary, Steven Kleinedler, explained, "This list is a benchmark against which graduates—and those long out of high school—can measure themselves. If you are able to use these words correctly, you are likely to have a superior command of the language." The words have been printed on a poster, and I've had it taped to my wall for several months now.
In some ways the list is a curious one. A number of the words clearly draw on recent news (euro, reparation, impeach), but it isn't always clear why certain others were deemed urgent enough to make the cut (facetious, gauche, sanguine). There are numerous words involving science (gamete, kinetic, quasar), politics (enfranchise, gerrymander, loquacious), and publishing (bowdlerize, expurgate, plagiarize), but none involving religion (except nonsectarian). Lexicon is on the list, presumably ex officio.
The editors emphasize that the hundred words "are not meant to be exhaustive" (you'll definitely need a few others to get by), but I recently tried to describe current events with mainly the arsenal provided, and did surprisingly well. Corporate malfeasance was easy to conjure: "Fiduciary nihilism wrought incontrovertible pecuniary chicanery." The prospect of a war with Iraq by winter's end was not difficult to convey: "Before equinox, near ziggurat, omnipotent laissez-faire hegemony subjugates bellicose totalitarian." Even the saga of Trent Lott proved more or less manageable: "Unctuous hubris recapitulates antebellum paradigm in churlish kowtow to filibuster oligarchy."
The American Heritage list is something of a throwback. The first English lexicons were not zoological collections of all the specimens in a language but, rather, lists of especially hard words for the educated classes. They were the literary analogue of the manuals of behavior for young people of noble rank—a genre that runs from the medieval "Mirror of Princes" through George Washington's famous "Rules of Civility" to the vast prescriptive-pamphleteering industry of our own era.
"What Every American Needs to Know" was the subtitle of Cultural Literacy (1987), a work that has now been through several best-selling versions. Here, in a few hundred pages, E. D. Hirsch Jr. and his disciples sought to establish an entire taxonomy of core knowledge—the thousands of dates, names, facts, ideas, and expressions that an educated person can't be seen without: 1066, 1914, Tolstoy, Ellison, Giotto, Jack Sprat, "In the beginning," flapper, uncertainty principle, zeitgeist.
Hirsch certainly knew his zeitgeist. Troll the Web for a few minutes and you'll quickly appreciate how vast a terrain "need to know" has become—far more extensive than any one person could ever hope to explore. "What every man needs to know about sex addiction and relationships." "What every librarian needs to know about the USA Patriot Act." "What every veterinarian needs to know about hamsters." "What every certified accountant needs to know about money laundering." "What every Muslim needs to know about Ramadan." "What every American needs to know about Hillary Rodham Clinton."
I must admit I hadn't previously been aware of what every parent needs to know about children and stress. ("Empower kids, even if it means giving them a misting bottle turned 'monster repellent' to spray under their beds.") Nor had I been aware of numerous other things, such as what every investor needs to know about doing business in Vietnam: "Do not accept a 'trust me' or 'no problem' in lieu of having the terms of the agreement clearly and unequivocally documented." Or what every lawyer needs to know about prenuptial agreements: "Advise against springing the agreement on the other party." Or what every Christian needs to know about sexual temptation: "The Bible has one basic remedy for sexual temptation: flee."
After a day of such stuff I came to appreciate the advice offered on a page devoted to what every freshman needs to know about high school: "Just don't worry about things. It won't help." Frankly, this need-to-know business is a little out of control. E. D. Hirsch's publisher ought to suggest that his next book be called You Don't Wanna Know, devoted to the thousands of things Americans would be wise to ignore (Chapter 1: Restaurant Kitchens; Chapter 2: The Operating Room ...).