What began as a blog and YouTube series has since blossomed into a bestselling book, but its mission remains the same: to invent, define, and popularize new words for emotions that currently lack a name in the English language. It’s a collection of beautiful, poignant neologisms that give us a handle on the subtle aches and wonders of the human condition.
The Art of Coining a Feeling
At first glance, one might dismiss the words in the dictionary as clever fabrications. And they are—Koenig is the first to admit that he invents them. But his process is far from random. It is a meticulous and fascinating exercise in linguistics, blending etymology, phonetics, and a poet’s sensibility. He doesn’t just pull sounds out of thin air; he deconstructs existing words from various languages—Greek, Latin, German, French, and more—and reassembles their roots (morphemes) into something new and evocative.
Let’s break down one of the most famous entries, sonder:
sonder
n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness.
The word feels right, but why? Koenig explains that its origin is a blend of the German sonder (meaning “special” or “separate”) and the French sonder (meaning “to probe” or “to sound out”). This combination perfectly captures the feeling: you are separate from this stranger, yet you are probing the depths of their existence, suddenly aware of their special, unique inner world. The word provides a cognitive anchor for an otherwise fleeting and overwhelming realization.
Another beautiful example is anemoia:
anemoia
n. nostalgia for a time you’ve never known.
This word is constructed from the Greek anemos (wind) and noos (mind). It evokes the idea of a memory or feeling carried on the wind from a distant past, drifting into your mind. It’s a perfect linguistic metaphor for that wistful feeling you get looking at a vintage film or listening to music from a generation long gone.
Why Do We Need New Words for Sadness?
The core appeal of The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows lies in a fundamental human need: the need to be understood. When we experience a powerful emotion but lack the vocabulary to express it, the feeling can be isolating. It feels vague, personal, and perhaps even strange. But giving it a name changes everything.
This touches on the concept of linguistic relativity, the idea that the language we speak influences how we perceive and categorize the world. While the strong version of this hypothesis (that language *determines* thought) is largely discredited, the weaker version—that language *influences* thought—is widely accepted. When you learn the word sonder, you don’t just learn a new piece of trivia; you gain a new lens through which to see the world. You start to notice the feeling more often. You can point to it, think about it, and share it.
By naming an “obscure sorrow,” Koenig performs a kind of emotional alchemy. He takes a private, formless ache and transforms it into a shared, defined experience. The message is profound: you are not alone in feeling this way. The very existence of the word proves that the feeling is common enough to warrant a name.
A Lexicon for the Soul
The dictionary is filled with dozens of other gems that resonate with uncanny accuracy. Here are a few more to ponder:
- Vellichor: The strange wistfulness of used bookstores, which are somehow infused with the passage of time. The word is a blend of “vellum” (a parchment made from calfskin) and “ichor” (the ethereal fluid that is the blood of the gods in Greek mythology).
- Kuebiko: A state of exhaustion inspired by acts of senseless violence, which forces you to revise your image of what can happen in this world. It’s named after a Japanese scarecrow deity who is aware of everything but unable to move.
- Énouement: The bittersweetness of having arrived here in the future, seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self.
- Liberosis: The desire to care less about things—to loosen your grip on your own life, to stop glancing behind you every few steps, afraid that you’re missing something.
– Opia: The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable.
Language as a Living Thing
The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows is more than just a list of beautiful words. It’s a celebration of language as a living, breathing tool that we can shape to better fit our lives. It reminds us that language isn’t just a static set of rules handed down from on high; it’s a collaborative project we are all participating in. While words like sonder or vellichor may not appear in a traditional dictionary (yet!), their power is undeniable.
John Koenig’s work validates the quiet, introspective corners of our emotional landscape. He has given us a vocabulary for the bittersweet, the melancholic, and the profoundly human, proving that even our most obscure sorrows are threads in a universal tapestry of experience. And by giving them a name, he has made them a little less sorrowful and a lot less obscure.
