I promised a few days ago to write about books on Latin and on nomenclature
generally. The botanists are way ahead of the zoologists in providing
first-class material of this sort. In fact, any college-level textbook on
botany will have at least some information on Latin nomenclature, and some
get into the details.
 
Neal, Bill, 1992, Gardener's Latin: a lexicon: Chapel Hill, North Carolina,
Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, vii + 136 p.
 
"Gardener's Latin" isn't very different from zoological Latin, of course.
This book consists of alphabetically arranged Latin species names with
their English translations, accompanied by entertaining quotations and
illustrations from old herbals.
 
Savory, Theodore, 1962, Naming the living world: an introduction to the
principles of biological nomenclature: New York, Wiley, xiii + 128 p.
 
The basics of names and nomenclature, including the history of the Codes,
written in precise and understandable prose. More than most people want to
know on the subject, but often entertaining in an intellectual sort of way.
For instance, here is Savory's introduction to name-changing: "The ...
belief, apparently held by many, is that a change of name is a serious,
almost catastrophic occurrence, but in everyday life outside the laboratory
this is simply not true; and a biologist may be reminded that both his
mother and his wife have survived the same metamorphosis" (p. 85). Times
have changed a bit since Savory's day (biologists can no longer be assumed
to be male without giving offense), but you have to admit that his basic
point is still valid.
 
Schenck, Edward T., McMasters, John H., Keen, A. Myra, and Muller, Siemon
William, 1948, Procedure in taxonomy...: Stanford, California, Stanford
University Press, and London, Oxford University Press, vii + 93 p.
 
I don't care how old it is, it's still the best book I've ever read on how
and *why* to name species and type specimens. The book includes a reprint
of the entire International Code of Zoological Nomenclature (1926 edition)
and a summary of the Opinions rendered by the International Commission on
Zoological Nomenclature up to 1948. The 1926 rules of nomenclature are no
longer in force, but they have the virtue of being written in plain
language, unlike the succeeding editions. This is a good place to start if
you really want to understand the principles behind the rules.
 
Incidentally, "Procedure in Taxonomy" was written at a time when Stanford
University had extensive collections and an active program in taxonomy.
Myra Keen was an eminent malacologist. The collections were transferred in
the 70s to the California Academy of Science (fossils, shells) and to the
University of California, Berkeley (herbarium, fishes?). Stanford no longer
has the material basis for teaching taxonomy, unlike the "Stanford of the
East" (their nickname for Harvard). Maybe it's just as well. The buildings
that housed the collections were damaged in an earthquake a few years ago.
 
Brown, Roland Wilbur, 1956, Composition of scientific words: a manual of
methods and a lexicon of materials for the practice of logotechnics:
Washington and London, Smithsonian Institution Press, 882 p.
 
Still in print, I believe, and deservedly so. The use of classical
languages in scientific words is explained, although not in easy prose.
Most of the book is an odd lexicon in three languages: Latin, Greek,
English. Words in Latin and Greek are translated into English; words in
English are given several alternative translations into Latin and Greek,
including nuances of meaning and variants. This is an excellent source to
have if you want to name a new species.
 
Stearn, William T., 1966, Botanical Latin: history, grammar, syntax,
terminology and vocabulary: New York, Hafner Publishing Company, xiv + 566
p.
 
Botanical Latin is not the same as Classical Latin. Early botanists (and
zoologists) read, wrote, and spoke a form of Medieval Latin whose meanings
had, through centuries, gradually drifted away from the language spoken by
the Romans. New words, and new meanings for old words, were added to
express the forms of plants and animals. English has borrowed most of these
Latin terms, e.g., carinate, lirate, cancellate, etc. What Stearn has done
is to write a grammar and dictionary of this expressive language, including
diagrams of leaf shapes and so on, with a brief history of the language and
its use. Definitely not a book to read for entertainment, unless you're a
committed taxonomist, in which case you will find it absorbing. However,
it's a great book to consult for the meanings of Latin words--far superior
to having a Classical Latin dictionary at your hand, because the meanings
of even common words are not the same in these two languages, and Stearn
includes the subtle details as well as the broad meanings. Do you want to
know how to say "deep brown" in Latin, as opposed to "cinnamon" or "bright
brown" or "brown-red" or "chestnut brown"? It's here.
 
1990, Sowerby's book of shells: New York, Crescent Books, 139 p.
 
If you're trying to figure out what that antique author meant by an
obsolete shell term, the best way to find out is to consult an antique
textbook. This one is an inexpensive modern reprint of a work about 150
years old, very well illustrated.
 
Lindley, John, 1964, Excerpt from Illustrated dictionary of botanical
terms: Stanford, California, Stanford University, School of Earth Sciences,
p. 345-383.
 
By the same token, it's not a bad idea to consult an old botanical
textbook. This pamphlet is a facsimile of part of a book published
originally in 1848, and reprinted at, surprise, Stanford University. It may
be hard to find now, but is very useful and well illustrated.
 
These are just the books that I have at hand in my library, or the
University's. There may be others that are even more valuable, but about
which I know nothing, so don't be shy about adding titles.
 
Andrew K. Rindsberg
Geological Survey of Alabama