The Dictionary of Lost Words- Collective Book Review

Naomi Weisman is the writer of Nomi's Pics, and the editor of the Rambler Cafe Blog. She is a Canadian-Australian and mother of three who loves to ramble with her dog, cook for family and friends, and laugh whenever possible.

Sometimes, a book doesn’t just tell a story—it reshapes how we see the world. The Dictionary of Lost Words did just that for our book club. In July, we followed Esme’s journey from beneath her father’s desk in the Scriptorium to the heart of the Oxford English Dictionary, where she quietly gathered the words that history tried to discard.

This novel wasn’t just historical fiction—it was a meditation on language, gender, memory, and power. As one reader put it:

“Once in a while, a book changes me slightly—with new knowledge, different perspectives, and warmth of feeling. This book did that for me.”

Book Summary

Set during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, The Dictionary of Lost Words follows Esme Nicholl, a young girl raised in the Scriptorium where her father and his colleagues work to compile the first Oxford English Dictionary. As Esme matures, she becomes increasingly aware of the voices being left out—particularly women, domestic workers, and the working class.

As official definitions pass from the mouths of men to the printed page, Esme begins collecting her own “lost words”—those spoken but never written down, meaningful but overlooked. Her life intertwines with the suffragette movement, personal loss, and an awakening to the quiet revolution of language.

Readers’ Perceptions

This book resonated deeply with our group—emotionally, intellectually, and even politically. Many of us laughed, cried, and were left thinking long after the final page. Some hadn’t realized how profoundly language reflects cultural bias. Others said it opened their eyes to the invisible scaffolding of power in even the most “neutral” tools, like dictionaries.

"I laughed, I cried, and I felt these characters come to life. I immediately recommended it to my sister!"

"It brought me back to reading after many years. Thanks, everyone!"

“I couldn’t get into it the first time, but this time, I couldn’t put it down.”

Esme’s relationships—with Lizzie, Mabel, Tilda, and others—felt intimate and authentic. Lizzie’s simple reflection, “I like to keep my hands busy... and it proves I exist,” became a quiet anthem for many of us. And Esme herself left a lasting impression: a gentle but fierce observer of a world not built for her.

One haunting detail—the scars on Esme’s hands—emerged as a subtle but poignant thread. They were the result of a childhood attempt to retrieve a burned keepsake from her deceased mother. That image stayed with us. Her wounds were not just physical but symbolic: a visceral representation of her longing, her loss, and her quiet courage.

Some were struck by the emotional restraint with which Pip Williams delivered grief and loss. One moment in particular—when mothers quietly visit the press to say their sons won’t be returning from war—was heartbreaking in its simplicity.

One reader who had recently visited Oxford was delighted by the book’s setting, which made the story come alive. Others were fascinated by the linguistic elements—from the harsh connotations of words like spinster and crone to the cross-cultural curiosity of terms like fanny pack. We were also intrigued by the mention of Esperanto—a real-life constructed language created to unite different linguistic groups.

“The thing that stood out to me was how cultures imbue language with values—positive and negative. There is no male equivalent to ‘crone.’”

“I thought about how even today, language offends differently depending on geography. And how that affects identity.”

Themes That Stood Out

Language as Power

The core of the novel lies in the understanding that language is not passive—it shapes our world, our roles, and our worth. Esme’s realization that “important” words were being chosen almost exclusively by white, educated men prompted readers to reflect on their own assumptions.

“I never considered how the words in a dictionary would be influenced by the people who collected them. That idea was intoxicating.”

“By choosing the people who weren’t listened to, Esme gave them power.”

One example we discussed at length was the word cunt. Its inclusion in Esme’s collection, despite being rejected from the formal dictionary, felt like an act of linguistic defiance. That a word so directly tied to the female body could be considered vulgar and taboo—while countless male equivalents were normalized or even celebrated—spoke volumes about gendered morality. We reflected on how language has been used to shame, silence, and stigmatize women, and how some words still carry the weight of centuries of misogyny.

Gender, Class, and Voice

We discussed how the novel echoed patterns of exclusion found not just in language, but in education, history, medicine, and politics. The biases that shaped the OED were mirrored across every institution of the time—and many persist today.

“Research in medicine was based on men’s health and neglected women’s. The bias is pervasive wherever you look.”

“Women were largely defined by their marital status. Esme’s choice not to marry was radical for her time.”

Esme’s decision to record words from women, domestic workers, and the marginalized offered a quiet rebellion against the status quo. Her trunk of collected words became both archive and protest.

“Women’s speech was to be suppressed. The hiding of the words in the trunk was recognition that stealth was a requirement.”

This book broadened our collective understanding of how deeply patriarchal structures shape knowledge, identity, and voice.

Grief and Memory

Grief was a constant presence in Esme’s life—starting with the loss of her mother, then others she loved dearly. But grief also became her guide. The words she saved were often those steeped in emotion and memory, collected not just for their definition, but for their resonance.

“Her losses taught her to expect grief, and yet she kept collecting—kept remembering.”

“Each word carried the emotional energy of the people she had loved.”

Esme’s physical scars—burned into her hands from reaching into the fire to save a memory—served as an enduring metaphor for the price of remembering. They were a testament to the cost of love and the permanence of loss.

History and Fiction Intertwined

The historical setting and integration of real events—including the women’s suffrage movement and the First World War—added authenticity and depth. Readers especially appreciated the reminder that history is not neutral, and that fiction can often speak truth more clearly than fact.

“Although history was written largely from the perspective of white males, what we honour is now expanding to include other perspectives.”

“This book made me realize that there is so much I never questioned—about events, language, and whose story we hear.”

One reader connected the book’s themes to modern technology, particularly AI. The concern that current systems are being trained primarily by homogenous groups raised awareness about how today's tools may reflect the same biases Esme fought against.

“AI today is being programmed mostly by young, non-diverse men. What happens to language, and to truth, if the same blind spots persist?”

Readers were struck by how Williams skillfully blended real historical figures and events into Esme’s fictional journey.

“I loved being introduced to the real-life people behind the dictionary.”

“It made me curious about the suffragettes and how their stories have been passed down—or lost.”

Notable Quotes From the Book

“Our thinking was limited by convention—the most subtle but oppressive dictator.”

“Words are like stories … They change as they are passed from mouth to mouth; their meanings stretch or truncate to fit what needs to be said.”

“A vulgar word, well placed and said with just enough vigour, can express far more than its polite equivalent.”

“But when we talk about her, she comes to life. Never forget that, Esme. Words are our tools of resurrection.”

“I like to keep my hands busy... and it proves I exist.” – Lizzie

Conclusion

“Words define us, they explain us, and, on occasion, they serve to control or isolate us.”

This quote captures the heart of what The Dictionary of Lost Words revealed to us: that language is never neutral. It can liberate or silence, uplift or erase. Pip Williams invites us to question who gets to speak—and who gets remembered.

The Dictionary of Lost Words was more than just a beautiful novel—it was a lens through which we re-examined our assumptions about language, gender, history, and power. Esme’s quiet rebellion—collecting words dismissed by the gatekeepers of culture—felt not only necessary, but profoundly courageous.

This book reminded us that every word carries a story—and that the stories worth telling are often the ones that were nearly lost. We were left changed, more curious, and more aware of the voices that still need to be heard.

“We often grow up with limited beliefs, but when we begin to think outside the box, we can never return to our old mindset.”

“Surprisingly, it took a resource we often take for granted—a dictionary—to help us liberate ourselves.”

We are grateful to have shared this journey together and grateful to Pip Williams for reminding us: words matter. And so do the people who speak them.

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