Would you like to learn some Ancient Greek? by Caroline K. Mackenzie

Following the bumper box office success of Christopher Nolan’s Odyssey this summer, online searches for ‘Learn Ancient Greek’ have soared and students of all ages are signing up for classes offering entry to this magical language.

Reading Homer’s Odyssey in the original would be my number one reason for learning Ancient Greek. But a close second would be the joy of recognising Greek everywhere in the English language. Therefore in this blog, for fun, I shall share with you fifteen of my favourite Greek words, together with their English derivatives. You may be surprised by how much Ancient Greek you already know!

Each word is introduced by an illustration by Barbarann Lang. The Greek word is given first, followed by a transliteration, i.e. a simple conversion of the Greek letters to their English equivalents, and then the meaning. Underneath each entry I have included just a few English words which owe their etymology to the Greek - you can probably think of many more - and some of the English words have a brief note or explanation. 

Fifteen of my favourite Greek words

1.    ἀγορά (agora) market-place

agoraphobia (cf. φόβος ‘phobos’ = fear)

2.    βασιλεύς (basileus) king

basilica, basilicon, basilisk

basilicon = an ointment of various kinds, as being of sovereign virtue.

basilisk = a harmless crested lizard of tropical America (with a crownlike crest).

3.    δοῦλος (doulos) slave

douleia /dulia, doulocracy, dulosis

douleia /dulia = in the Roman Catholic religion this is an inferior veneration accorded to saints and angels, as opposed to ‘hyperdulia’ that is accorded to the Virgin Mary, and ‘latria’ accorded to God alone.

dulosis = enslavement practised by certain ants on other kinds of ants.

4.    εἰρήνη (eirene) peace

eirenic, eirenicon, Irene

eirenic = tending to create peace.

eirenicon = proposition for peace.

5.    ἐκκλησία (ecclesia) assembly

ecclesiastical, ecclesiology

ecclesiology = study of ecclesiastical traditions and of church architecture and decoration, study/knowledge of the church.

6.    Ζεύς Zeus

deification, deity (cf. ‘deus’ meaning ‘god’ in Latin)

7.    θεά (thea) goddess

atheist, Theobroma, theology, theomachy

theobroma = a genus (group) of flowering plants including the cocoa tree, ‘Theobroma cacao’, the beans of which are used to make chocolate. Theobroma means ‘food of the gods’.

8.    ἄγγελος (aggelos, pronounced ‘angelos’) messenger

angel, angel-cake, angelshark

angelshark = shark with winglike fins.

9.    λιμήν (limen) harbour

limen, liminal, liminality (cf. ‘limen’ meaning ‘threshold’ in Latin)

limen = threshold of consciousness (a term in psychology).

liminality = a literary term which means the use of location, especially the threshold of a doorway, to symbolise a significant moment, e.g. Medea, in the eponymous play by Euripides, makes her dramatic entrance onto stage with the following words, ‘ “Women of Corinth, I have come out of the house” ’ and proceeds to deliver possibly her most powerful speech.

10.    μάχη (mache) battle

logomachy, theomachy

logomachy = contention about words or in words.

Theomachy = a war among or against the gods in Greek mythology, such as the gigantomachy. Book 20 of Homer’s Iliad is traditionally known under the title Theomachia; it opens with a scene on Olympus in which Zeus permits the gods to take part in the battle.

11.    οὐρανός (ouranos) heaven

Urania, Uranus, uranic, uranium

Urania was the Muse of astronomy in Greek mythology. 

Uranus/Ouranos or 'Heaven’ = the father of Kronos , whose mother is ‘Ge’ (γῆ) or ‘Earth’. ‘Uranus’ is also the name given to a planet discovered in 1781.

uranic = of the palate, lit the roof of the mouth.

12.    πύλη (pyle) gate

Propylaia, pylon, pylorus

Propylaia = the monumental entrance, or gateway, to the Acropolis in Athens, built 437-432 BC.

pylorus = the opening, or gateway, from the stomach to the intestines.

13.    χείρ (cheir) hand

chirograph, chironomy, chiropractor, chiropodist, chiropteran, chiropterophilous

chirograph = a written, or signed, document.

chironomy = the art of gesticulation or mime.

Chiropteran = a member of the Chiroptera, an order of mammals comprising bats.

chiropterophilous = flowers which are pollinated by bats.

14.    κεφαλή (cephale) head

cephalalgia, cephalopod

cephalalgia = headache.

cephalopod = a member of the Cephalopoda, or molluscs. They are exclusively marine animals (including cuttlefish, squid, octopus, etc.) with a prominent head and their ’feet’ have become modified into arms or tentacles.

15.    ξίφος (xiphos) sword

Xiphias, xiphoid, xiphophyllous

Xiphias = the common swordfish genus (group).

xiphoid = sword-shaped

xiphophyllous = plants with sword-shaped leaves.

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If you have read this far, thank you! I hope you will agree that Ancient Greek is not a dead language, as often claimed, but indeed is very much alive and kicking. If you have enjoyed the Greek, you may also enjoy my recent publication, Pocket GCSE Greek Etymological Lexicon. This book is not just for GCSE students - it's for anyone who would like to learn some Ancient Greek and/or fun facts about Greek theatre, art, music, pottery, statues, temples, archaeology, philosophy, religion, literature, history, mythology and culture. If you are a Hellenophile, philologist or indeed etymologist, there is plenty for you too!

P.S. I shall be giving an online illustrated talk A Taste of Greek for The Hellenic and Roman Societies on Wednesday 18th November at 6pm, and again on Saturday 21st November at 11am. Whether you are a complete beginner or wish to brush up on existing knowledge, you will be very welcome! Please contact me for further details via my website: www.carolinetutor.co.uk

With many thanks to Barbarann Lang for her beautiful illustrations.

Pocket GCSE Greek Etymological Lexicon by Caroline K. Mackenzie is available from Bloomsbury

‘It’s all Greek to me’: the story behind my Pocket GCSE Greek Etymological Lexicon by Caroline K. Mackenzie

 

I have just completed a little book with a rather long title, Pocket GCSE Greek Etymological Lexicon. It is being published by Bloomsbury Academic and is sister to the Pocket GCSE Latin Etymological Lexicon which I wrote in 2022. It seems like yesterday that I wrote a History Girls’ Blog on the Latin Lexicon: tempus fugit.

Both books were written with GCSE students in mind but their purpose is just as much to showcase the beauty and ubiquity of these ancient languages, so the lexicons may also appeal to logophiles (‘logos’ meaning ‘word’ and ‘phileo’ ‘I love’). The GCSE vocabulary lists provide a finite list of words to work on: 450 in Latin and 409 in Greek, which was just right for this project.

To accompany the words we wanted to include illustrations and I am very fortunate that one of the members of my Classics Club, now a good friend, is a local artist, Barbarann Lang. Barbarann has exhibited work at many galleries including the Royal Academy and I had seen first-hand her beautiful paintings. So I was delighted when Barbarann agreed to create 20 illustrations for the lexicon. As Barbarann began, she became so inspired by the Greek that 20 illustrations increased to 32 and, thanks to the skill and vision of Bloomsbury and our typesetters, RefineCatch, all 32 are included in the lexicon. The illustrations really bring the Greek words to life and it seems fitting to unveil a few of them here. Hand-delivering Barbarann’s beautiful book of illustrations to the Bloomsbury offices was one of the most important and enjoyable tasks in producing the lexicon.

Bloomsbury’s London office © Caroline K. Mackenzie

Barbarann’s book of illustrations is on the table, hidden in the ‘Classics Club’ bag, the design for which is also one of Barbarann’s creations

Christopher Nolan’s much-anticipated film of the Odyssey is being released in July this year. I am not sure if the characters will be speaking any Greek but the film may inspire some audiences to read Homer’s Odyssey either in translation or even the original Greek. Homer’s Iliad was behind the 2001 film Troy in which the character of Achilles was played by Brad Pitt and it was that character who inspired Barbarann’s illustration for ‘soldier’.

'stratiotes’ (soldier) illustration © Barbarann Lang

‘strategos’ (general or commander) gives us the word strategy

Greek derivatives give us the names of many subjects on the school curriculum, e.g. biology from ‘bios’ (life) and ‘logos’ (study, story, account), geography from ‘ge’ (earth) and ‘grapho’ (I write), mathematics from ‘math-‘ (the past tense of the verb meaning I learn). The letter ‘π’ has an important role in school Maths lessons. You may also recognise the Greek letter ‘μ’ (mu) to indicate ‘microgram’, or ‘μg’, which appears on cereal packets, prescriptions and vitamin bottles.

During the recent pandemic (meaning affecting ‘all people’), the Greek alphabet was used by the World Heath Organisation (‘WHO’) to label key variants of the virus that causes COVID-19. WHO issued a press release explaining that it had ‘assigned simple, easy to say and remember labels… using letters of the Greek alphabet’ because ‘scientific names can be difficult to say and recall, and are prone to misreporting.’  [Ref. below.]

On the subject of the alphabet, please don’t let that deter you from dipping into some Greek! (The word ‘alphabet’ itself derives from the names of the first two letters in the Greek alphabet, ‘alpha’ and ‘beta’.) In the introduction to the lexicon, the Greek alphabet is set out in full (24 letters) together with the English equivalents and a pronunciation guide. It is easier to learn the Greek alphabet than you may think and is, indeed, a very satisfying exercise. As Cicero reminds us in his book How to Grow Old our mind is a muscle that must be exercised as we get older and Cicero’s protagonist declares that he is teaching himself Greek in his old age. A good alternative to Sudoku, perhaps? In this blog, I have transliterated the Greek and I leave you to try the alphabet challenge another day.

‘geron’ (old man) illustration © Barbarann Lang

‘geron’ combined with ‘iatros’ (doctor) gives us the word ‘geriatric’

Cicero recommends learning Greek to keep one’s mind healthy in old age

You will know the word ‘aristocracy’, which derives from ‘aristos’ (best, very good) and ‘cratos’ (rule) but lesser-known is the word ‘kakistocracy’. ‘kakistos’ means ‘worst’ or ‘very bad’ and therefore a kakistocracy is a ‘government by the least suitable or competent citizens of a state’ (definition from Oxford Languages English Dictionary on Google).

Writers may enjoy some of the literary terms derived from Greek such as ‘oxymoron’, a figure of speech by means of which contradictory terms are juxtaposed, for various effects, e.g. ‘bitter-sweet’ (Sappho, Fragment 130). (Thank you to Kevin in Classics Club for this excellent example!) In Greek ‘oxymoron’ means ‘clever-stupid’ or ‘sharp-blunt’ and is an oxymoron itself. The term ‘hyperbole’ derives from ‘hyper’ (beyond, exceeding) and ‘bol’ from ‘ballo’ (I throw or fire at) – a great origin for a word meaning excessive exaggeration. It was thanks to one particular writer that I had a suggestion for the first Greek word in the lexicon, ‘agathos’ (good). I had asked one of my tutees, named Sophie (Greek for ‘wisdom’), to help me think of a derivative and, after careful thought, she replied ‘Agatha Christie’s books are really good’.

Writers may worry that they suffer from ‘cacoethes scribendi’, an uncontrollable desire for writing or getting one’s work into print, literally ‘a bad habit for writing’. The ‘scribendi’ derives from the Latin verb ‘scribo’ (I write). Politicians are perhaps afflicted with ‘cacoethes loquendi’, an uncontrollable desire for talking, especially for giving speeches, literally ‘a bad habit for speaking’. The ‘loquendi’ derives from the Latin verb ‘loquor’ (I speak). To complete this tricolon of bad habits I came across a phrase, ‘ego-surfing’, which means searching for one’s own name on the Internet (‘ego’ meaning ‘I’ in both Latin and Greek.)

I was also delighted to discover the phrase ‘chronique scandaleuse’: a story or gossip full of scandal, or unsavoury ‘tittle-tattle’, deriving in part from the Greek word for time, ‘chronos’ (hence chronology, anachronism, synchronise, etc). This pairs nicely with a new word I learned for the Latin Lexicon: ‘quidnunc’. It refers to an inquisitive, gossiping person - the Latin literally means ‘what now?’.

Gardeners often mention the ubiquity of Latin in horticulture and Greek also plays a part here: an aspidistra is an evergreen plant with shield-like long, tough leaves, ‘aspis’ being the Greek for ‘shield’. Rhododendron derives from ‘rhodon’ (rose) and ‘dendron’ (tree). ‘Hippeastrum’ is the name of a group of plants, including the Amaryllis. It is possible that the name was given due to the flowers resembling a horse’s head, as ‘hippos’ means ‘horse’. ‘Hippos’ also gives us a derivative which is a firm favourite among my tutees: hippopotamus, literally a horse of the river (‘potamos’).

‘hippos’ (horse) illustration © Barbarann Lang

‘hippos’ gives us words such as ‘hippodrome’ and ‘hippopotamus’

‘potamos’ (river) illustration © Barbarann Lang

‘potamos’ gives us words such as ‘hippopotamus’ (horse of the river)

A favourite derivative of my own is ‘cryptozoology’: the study of and search for (potentially mythical) creatures, such as the Loch Ness monster. The Greek words are ‘crypto’ (I hide) ‘zoon’ (creature) and ‘logos’ (study). I was also delighted to discover that ‘theobroma’ is the name of a group of flowering plants including the cocoa tree, ‘theobroma cacao’, the beans of which are used to make chocolate. Theobroma means ‘food of the gods’ – no wonder chocolate tastes so good.

On the subject of food, I wonder if you or any of your friends are a ‘deipnosophist’: someone whose dinner-table conversation is erudite. The term derives from Deipnosophistai, the title of a work by Athenaeus (c. AD 200) and is a combination of ‘deipnon’ (dinner) and ‘sophos’ (wise).

‘deipnon’ (dinner) illustration © Barbarann Lang

A ‘deipnosophist’ is someone whose dinner-table conversation is erudite (‘sophos’ means ‘wise’)

Medicine abounds with Greek terminology. Anything ending in ‘iatric’ signifies medical care or treatment such as ‘geriatric’ (see above) and ‘paediatric’ from ‘pais’ (child). I enjoyed learning this fun fact: the ‘pylorus’ is the opening, or gateway, from the stomach to the intestines, from ‘pyle’ (gate). The condition of having a ‘phobia’ is from the Greek word meaning fear, giving us xenophobe from ‘xenos’ (foreigner), arachnophobia from ‘arachne’ (spider) and triskaidekaphobia, literally fear of three plus ten, i.e. thirteen. Anatomy can be useful when studying Greek and Roman sculpture, too: one of the most famous statues of Aphrodite (Roman name, Venus) is titled ‘callipygian’ meaning ‘with beautiful buttocks’. 

You may have been watching the Winter Olympics and Paralympics recently. Not only did the Olympic games themselves originate in Greece but the word ‘Paralympics’ owes its name to the Greek language, ‘para’ meaning ‘beside’ or ‘parallel to’. In these games athletes, from ‘athlos’ (prize) often put themselves through agony, from ‘agon’ (contest or trial), to be the best.

The final proofs for the lexicon have arrived for checking and, as I scanned the pages, one particular entry struck me as rather autobiographical (‘autos’, self, ‘bios’, life, ‘grapho’, I write), and I wondered if my subconscious had directed my choice of derivatives…:

phil or -phile (suffix meaning ‘lover of’ or ‘loving’) bibliophile (book-lover), Hellenophile (Greek-lover), linguaphile (language-lover), logophile (word-lover), oenophile (wine-lover)

It is perhaps therefore appropriate that the cover image depicts the interior of a ‘kylix’ (drinking bowl) which would have been used at a ‘symposium’, or drinking party. When the lexicon is published I shall definitely be toasting it with a glass of Bacchus, a locally grown wine named after the Greek and Roman god of drinking, theatre and parties. ‘Cheers!’

Pocket GCSE Greek Etymological Lexicon by Caroline K. Mackenzie is available for pre-order: https://www.bloomsbury.com/uk/pocket-gcse-greek-etymological-lexicon-9781350572119/
Publication date: 9th July 2026 Ebook and 6th August 2026 Paperback.

With many thanks to everyone at Classical Studies Bloomsbury, especially Alice Wright, Lucy Batrouney, Lucy Springett, Sophie Beardsworth and Sarah Ruddock; to Merv Honeywood and his team at RefineCatch; and to Barbarann Lang.

Thank you also to Caroline Lawrence, Dr John Taylor, Dr Margaret Mountford and Dr Daisy Dunn.

www.carolinetutor.co.uk

Ref: https://www.who.int/news/item/31-05-2021-who-announces-simple-easy-to-say-labels-for-sars-cov-2-variants-of-interest-and-concern.

Choice of Language by Marie-Louise Jensen

So you're writing historical fiction. How do you recreate the past?

There are many ways you can do it. Atmosphere, descriptions, clothes, situation. all these things contribute to a sense of experiencing the past and all are important to the authenticity of the text.

One way I don't attempt to recreate the past is by language. Or at least not very much.

I've had reviews that complain that much of the vocabulary I use wasn't in use at the time the book is set. Of course it wasn't. If I were to try to use truly authentic language, it would require a vast amount of research - of the reading ancient texts in gothic script variety - and I don't think anyone would read my books. They would be too difficult to access. And I see my role as one of making the past accessible, enjoyable and easy to read about.

In the case of my Viking books, they are 'in translation' anyway, as the characters weren't speaking English, but Norse. And in the case of my Tudor novel, The Lady in the Tower, the language people spoke would have been so dramatically different to our own that we would struggle to understand it. It would be somewhere between Chaucer and Shakespeare.

As far as I'm concerned, language is the medium we use to access the story and not really a part of the authenticity of the setting. Of course, that said, it's still a minefield.

I have to be very careful not to include anachronisms, for example. It's more easily done that one might imagine, because we take our everyday items and the names we have for them so for granted that we scarcely see them. Thus my copy editor found and alerted me to a mention of trousers in my second Viking novel. Norse men wore leggings and tunics. Of course, I know perfectly well that trousers as a clothing form didn't exist until the Victorian age, but that kind of slip is so easy to make if you're cracking a joke or using a catchphrase.

And then there are the words that have changed their meanings. I've had to be really careful with these in my latest novel, which is set in the early Georgian era. In those days, a dress was a gown, a wardrobe was the clothes you owned and the piece furniture you kept them in was a closet. Skirts refered to the section of a man's coat below the waist; women had petticoats or 'coats', not skirts. I knew all these and others and had a list beside me as I wrote. Nonethless, when I did a search of the document once it was finished, I found six instances of the word 'dress' that had evaded my attention.

Getting these words right - the era-specific references - is very important to me. I think it does help to recreate the past. I did a great deal of research on costumes, furniture, food, literature and buildings, as well as lifestyle. Accuracy is valuable. Especially when readers are basing their knowledge of the era on your work. And of course modern slang is completely out of place in a book set in the past.

But if you want to tackle the old authentic language, don't come to modern historical fiction; seek out the plays, poems, stories and novels that were written back in the period you're interested in. Personally I enjoy reading many of them. But it's an altogether different experience.