Who Are The Main Characters In The Liar'S Dictionary?

Reading 'The Liar’s Dictionary' feels like digging through a trunk of forgotten letters—each character leaves an impression. Peter Winceworth’s sections are my favorite; he’s this tragicomic figure who’s terrible at human interaction but brilliant at linguistic chaos. His fake words (my favorite: 'carnaptious,' meaning 'irritable at mealtime') are like little acts of rebellion. Mallory, meanwhile, is all sharp edges and hidden vulnerability, rolling her eyes at corporate jargon while secretly yearning for purpose.

The dual timelines let you see how language evolves but human nature doesn’t. Peter’s colleagues are a parade of Victorian absurdity—think men arguing about whether 'artichoke' should count as a vegetable. Mallory’s world, with its open-plan offices and Slack messages, isn’t much better. The book’s magic is in how it ties their struggles together through the joy and deceit of words. You finish it wanting to invent your own dictionary entries.

The charm of 'The Liar’s Dictionary' lies in its dual narrative, bouncing between two wonderfully odd protagonists. First, there’s Peter Winceworth, a disheveled, socially awkward lexicographer in 1899 who starts sneakily inserting fake words into the dictionary he’s compiling—part sabotage, part quiet rebellion against his monotonous life. Then, in modern-Day London, we meet Mallory, a young intern tasked with uncovering these 'mountweazels' (the term for fabricated entries). She’s witty, disillusioned with corporate life, and oddly relatable in her quest to find meaning in absurdity.

What I adore is how their stories mirror each other across time. Peter’s loneliness and Mallory’s existential dread weave together through the shared backdrop of language manipulation. The supporting cast—like the bombastic editor Prof. Gerolf Swansby or Mallory’s eccentric coworker David—add layers of humor and pathos. It’s a book that makes you ponder how words shape identity, all while chuckling at Peter’s invented gems like 'abyssopelagic' (meaning 'to feel as though you’re sinking into the depths of despair').

Two words: Peter and Mallory. Peter’s the 19th-century oddball scribbling nonsense into dictionaries; Mallory’s the modern-day cynic uncovering his mischief. Their stories are a love letter to language’s quirks. Peter’s 'mountweazels' (like 'dord,' a ghost word meaning 'density') are absurdly genius. Mallory’s sarcasm about her job—'I’m basically a literary archaeologist, but with worse pay'—makes her instantly likable. The side characters, from Peter’s overbearing boss to Mallory’s conspiracy theorist coworker, round out this witty, wordplay-filled world.

If you’re into quirky characters with a love for language, this novel’s leads will steal your heart. Peter Winceworth is the star of the 1899 timeline—a man so painfully introverted that inventing words becomes his emotional outlet. His creations, like 'zyzzyva' (a fake insect name), are both hilarious and strangely poignant. Jump to the present, and Mallory’s snarky internal monologues about her dead-end job resonate hard. She’s the kind of character who’d text you memes about office life while secretly nursing a passion for etymology.

The contrast between their eras is brilliant: Peter’s Victorian repression versus Mallory’s millennial irony. Even minor characters, like the pompous Dr. Rochfort-Smith or Mallory’s bafflingly cheerful boss, add spice. It’s less about plot twists and more about reveling in their idiosyncrasies—like watching Peter fake a lisp to avoid promotions. A delight for word nerds!