Nestled between definitions of collective responsibility and collective fruit, the Chambers Dictionary has this to say about the collective noun: It is 'a singular noun referring to a group of people or things.' Correct, no doubt, but undeniably a dry definition for a category of word which so often tickles, teases and delights. Nowhere is the English language's relish for playfulness or indefatigable ingenuity more evident than in the words it plucks out to describe a gathering, be it a parliament of owls or a muttering of mother-in-laws.
Some collective nouns are used so often that we scarcely notice them at all. Think of a pride of lions, a school of fish -- we may use these terms without stopping to think of the meaning behind them. But many others are less well known and bring immediate joy to the ear. Who has heard of a frost of dowagers, a ripcord of skydivers, an ostentation of peacocks or a blanket of picnics?
In his book An Exaltation of Larks, first published in 1963 and expanded and reprinted many times since, James Lipton touches on the history of such nouns, explaining their indebtedness to the openness of fifteenth century English to borrowings from overseas -- not just new words, but new sounds, new concepts, new blood.
"It was precisely into this word-hungry, language-mad England that the terms... were born," he writes in his preface. "They are prime examples of both the infinite subtlety of our language and the wild imagination and verbal skills of our forebears."
More than 1,000 terms
The Ultimate Edition of Lipton's book includes more than 1,000 terms, beginning with the better known -- a litter of pups, a brood of hens -- and moving through to hundreds of the more arcane -- an acne of adolescents, a mask of executioners, a shush of librarians.
Others have also had a go at compiling. Rex Collings published his 186-page dictionary, A Crash of Rhinoceroses, in 1963, and numerous websites pay homage to the inventiveness and whimsy of the English language. Where else could you find a discord of experts, a rumble of artillery, a relish of connoisseurs, an indifference of waiters, a peel of sunbathers or even a oui oui of pissoirs?
The fun to be had is endless, and there is nothing to stop you from coining your own. The Macmillan Dictionary blog suggests a few for our times: a mendacity of politicians or a snafu of bureaucrats, for example. And how about a desperation of online daters or a contagion of tweeters?
Next time you see a gaggle of geese or hear someone talking about an embarrassment of riches, stop and think of the imagination and wit that went into creating each phrase. They are not mere words, they are testament to the unrivaled ingenuity of the English language and to the deep pleasure that generations have taken in, using it and stretching it and twisting it.
As Lipton says: "The terms are so charming and poetic it is hard to believe their inventors were unaware of the possibilities open to them, and unconscious of the fun and beauty they were creating. What we have in these terms if clearly the end result of a game that amateur philologists have been playing for over five hundred years".
