NOOK
noun \ˈnu̇k\

Definition of NOOK
1 chiefly Scottish : a right-angled corner
2 a : an interior angle formed by two meeting walls
b : a secluded or sheltered place or part
c : a small often recessed section of a larger room

Examples of NOOK
an old house full of nooks and crannies
a cozy nook perfect for reading
We found a shady nook under an old oak tree.

Origin of NOOK
Middle English noke, nok
First Known Use: 14th century

Related to NOOK
Synonyms: alcove, niche, recess
Related Words: corner, cranny, cubbyhole; cubicle; dent, embrasure, indent, indentation, indenture; ambry, housing, shrine

Rhymes with NOOK
book, brook, chook, cook, Cook, crook, hook, look, rook, schnook, shook, snook, stook

—THE FREE MERRIAM-WEBSTER DICTIONARY [excerpt]

THE LAKE ISLE OF INISFREE

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.


— WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

When I was three, before they let me paint the walls lavender, the ceiling pale blue with wedding-veil-colored clouds, the little fairy wallpaper cut-outs on the desk and drawers and doors, when it was just white walls and my mother’s old bed with the peeling pink paint, I lay there and realized I was real – no figment of a giant’s imagination but an independent being, with the terrible freedom to decide my life.

When I was young, I would lie on my bed for hours in May, my birthday month, listening to the windchimes, catching whiffs of lavender and jasmine and the flowers that smelled like onions.

I learned algebra at the fold-out writing surface in my room, where I picked away at the paint constantly.  My mother’s heavy mahogany-stained desk saw two hours on the landline with my best friend, debating the finer points of the Cretaceous period and fossilization within various media.  A.P. Biology was the dining room table, Katherine and Gabriela and I, drilling the menstrual cycle to death and talking about life – more the kind we saw in our days than our textbooks – for hours.  I sat in the red-embroidered armchair by the living room window and read Woolf’s “The Death of the Moth” and realized that I may never see the slant of light through the quiet trees in our yard, in February, in California, again.

In my first year of college I did not settle anywhere but darted restlessly from library to café to classroom to tucked-away sofa to bed to counselor’s office to criss-crossing walkways, never quite satisfied, never fully there though I had chosen the location.

In my second year of college I live above the ice cream store and try my best to move as little as possible.