I’ll admit it: I have an affinity for space dictionaries. I have several on my shelves written since the early days of the Space Age, and this one will join them as another example of our desire to understand and explain the technical language in which we find ourselves immersed.
This dictionary has been compiled by a non-space writer with an abiding interest in words and their meaning, and that is at least one prerequisite for a dictionary writer. One wonders, however, whether interest is enough. It is a far more difficult task today than it was in the 1960s, when the Space age was young, and there are so many aspects to the terminology. I would argue that a space dictionary writer needs a reasonable grounding in the technology, not simply a writer’s ability to use a multitude of sources and compile information from them.
There are also the questions of level, breadth and comprehensiveness. If it covers a narrow subset of space technology, it can afford to be selective, but if it purports to cover “the Space Age” it should do so logically and comprehensively. Even NASA’s Chief Historian, who contributed a foreword to this book, says that “this compilation is by no means comprehensive”, though he does add that it is a “fascinating commentary on how one technological discipline has affected the meaning and use of words and language, both within the aerospace community and in the broader world”.
The author himself says the book is “an attempt to capture the culture of the Space Age including slang, colloquialisms, nicknames, and the actual language used by the men and women involved”. He writes an interesting introduction on his methods and, in good dictionary practice, explains his use of etymology, usage and sources, but also declares that this is “a book meant for browsing”. Personally, I can’t see how this would work. Apart from the fact that people don’t usually browse dictionaries – if they are to be useful for anything, it is as a reference source – this one has no illustrations that might serve to attract the eye on a random flick through.
The book is too much of a mixture to be any real use. It has a few technical terms, such as active repeater, libration point and umbilicals (why the plural?), but these are subsumed by a plethora of mission names and random astronomical terms. Space history buffs might like to know the etymology of “Angry Alligator”, “Death-O-Meter” and “scrub club”, but you almost have to be a book reviewer to find these ‘gems of irrelevance’. Bottom line? If you’ve got a burning desire for a space dictionary, there are better ones on the market.