Words

Plangently.

Sedulous.

Encomia.

Numinous.

I read a lot. A. Lot. I have always read a lot, starting in first grade when the scales fell from my eyes and I had that Helen Keller moment of connecting the print on the page to the word in my head. (In The Miracle Worker, the magic word for Helen was "water." For me, it was "ask.") Once that happened, I went right on reading. And reading. And reading. Even now, most years I read over 200 books annually. 

One of those books this year is The Island: War and Belonging in Auden's England, which traces poet W. H. Auden's life from childhood until he leaves England in 1937 at age 30. I began it last night. Given my proclivity to read A. LOT, I was a bit taken aback that I was only on page 75 (and that does not count the 35 pages of Prologue by author Nicholas Jenkins) and already had the four words above scribbled down to look up. That was last night; this morning I pulled out my Webster's Dictionary and set it on the coffee table as I suspect I will be needing it more.

I am only familiar with the older, post-England, urbane, slick Auden. This book has already opened a whole new way for me to view him and his writing. (Heck, just reading the chronology from birth until he leaves England in 1937 opened new vistas.) 

And apparently reading this book is going to make new additions to my mental dictionary.

Plangently.

Sedulous.

Encomia.

Numinous.