The Lexicon Obscura

The particular quality of emptiness in a space that was built for crowds — a school corridor in summer, a stadium at midnight, a shopping mall after closing, an office on a public holiday. Not just emptiness. The specific kind that carries the ghost of all the activity that usually fills it. The chairs that should have people in them. The sounds that should be there and aren’t. Places have a mood when they’re full. Kenopsia is the inverted version of that mood.

Example

“Walking through the empty theme park after closing, he felt a deep kenopsia — the rides still, the laughter gone, only echoes remaining.”

Origin

Coined by John Koenig in The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, from the Greek kenos (empty) and opsis (sight, appearance). One of the finest entries in that collection — which is saying something.

Rarity ●●●●●

You felt this during the pandemic and had no word for it. Here is the word, slightly late.

Worthless, futile, or of no consequence. Used in legal contexts to mean “having no binding force,” and in general use to dismiss something as entirely without merit or effect. The advantage over “worthless” or “pointless” is that “nugatory” sounds considered — as though the speaker has assessed the matter carefully and arrived, regretfully, at the conclusion that it simply does not matter.

Example

“The committee dismissed his proposal as nugatory — not worth the paper it was printed on.”

Origin

From the Latin nugatorius (trifling, worthless), from nugae (trifles, nonsense). Entered English in the 17th century. Has been available for use in arguments ever since, largely overlooked.

Rarity ●●●●●

Saying “that’s nugatory” in a meeting is technically a devastating dismissal. Most people will nod politely and look it up later.

Not laziness. Not tiredness, exactly. The specific condition of lying in bed, fully aware that you need to get up, and finding that the gap between knowing this and actually doing it is somehow unbridgeable. The alarm has gone off. You are conscious. The ceiling is familiar. The day waits. And yet. Every human being on earth has experienced dysania. Almost none of them knew it had a name.

Example

“It wasn’t laziness — it was pure dysania. The alarm had gone off four times, and still the ceiling felt more real than the day ahead.”

Origin

From the Greek dys- (difficult, bad) and ania (distress). Used in medical contexts to describe a symptom associated with chronic fatigue and depression, though the everyday variety requires no diagnosis.

Rarity ●●●●●

The most universal experience in this entire series. Somehow the least known word for it.

The lowest grade of willing — a vague inclination toward something, well short of any actual intention to pursue it. “I’ve always thought about learning to paint.” “I should really read more.” “One day I’ll visit Kyoto.” These are velleities. Not quite dreams, not quite plans. The things you mention at dinner parties that you have no real intention of doing and both you and everyone else at the table understands this perfectly.

Example

“Learning Italian remained a velleity — something he mentioned at dinner parties but never actually pursued.”

Origin

From the Latin velle (to wish, to will). In scholastic philosophy, velleity was the technical term for the weakest form of volition — will without any accompanying action. Entered English in the 17th century and has been quietly describing most New Year’s resolutions ever since.

Rarity ●●●●●

Adding this word to your vocabulary is itself, arguably, a velleity. The irony is noted.

Relating to Orpheus, the mythological poet whose music was so beautiful it calmed wild animals, moved rocks, and caused the god of the underworld to weep. By extension: having an entrancing, mysteriously compelling quality — the kind of beauty or power that works on something deeper than conscious appreciation. Music that stops you mid-sentence. A voice that makes a room go quiet without the speaker trying. A piece of writing that you finish and cannot immediately explain why it affected you.

Example

“Her voice had an orphic quality — listeners couldn’t explain why it moved them, only that it did.”

Origin

From Orpheus, the greatest musician in Greek mythology — son of the muse Calliope, capable of charming all living things with his lyre. His name has been attached to mystery cults, philosophical movements, and this single very useful adjective.

Rarity ●●●●●

The highest compliment available for a musician, a writer, or a particularly good cup of coffee at the right moment.