I loved every one of the previous Schott's Miscellanies; this one is not quite of the same caliber. The uniform excellence of the earlier volumes is nI loved every one of the previous Schott's Miscellanies; this one is not quite of the same caliber. The uniform excellence of the earlier volumes is not maintained here.Though there is still plenty of weirdly fascinating, completely useless trivia, this volume does seem to contain more padding. Ten pages given over to various taxonomies of the different stages of life seems excessive, as does the inclusion of a "Withnail and I Imbibing Guide", and the table of word frequencies in Beatle songs. I would not have missed the complete enumeration of Friends episodes, and tabulating the letters of the Greek alphabet hardly seems worth the space.
But you know what? Maybe I'm just being a petty quibbler here (wouldn't be the first time). Because this is a book that also gives you:
480 different ways to spell "scissors" Tintin and the foreign translators (I confess to a prior obsession with the different linguistic variations of "Dupont et Dupond"; it's all here) Animal cries (apes gibber and magpies chatter, but did you know that mastodons bellow, or that bitterns boom?) The Proust questionnaire Notable winds ((from the Chinook to the Williwaw) Curious economic indicators Fool's errands (tartan paint, ethernet tape, wild haggis, eel's feet, ...) Phrases of supererogation and stupidity (coals to Newcastle, owls to Athens, taking your samovar to Tula, ....) Unusual April's Fool Hoaxes A two-page precipitation lexicon* (toad-stranglers, nubbin-stretchers, monkey's weddings, ...)
Guess what? I've worked myself back up to a 4-star rating. To a certain type of reader (and you know who you are) this stuff is like crack cocaine. This sequel might not be strictly necessary, but that doesn't mean it's not a whole lot of fun.
Forget what I said earlier. Ben Scott's genius remains undisputed.
I actually own the third edition of this fine book, by which time Ricardo Navas-Ruiz had added a co-author, someone called Covadonga Llorente. The titI actually own the third edition of this fine book, by which time Ricardo Navas-Ruiz had added a co-author, someone called Covadonga Llorente. The title has also changed, as the book now incorporates a section on La Voz Pasiva.
Not to minimize Covadonga's contribution, but the passive voice is the least of your worries as far as the whole ser/estar morass is concerned. The two chapters it gets at the end of the book run to only 9 of the book's 90 pages.
The problem with the whole ser/estar problem is that there's really no getting away from it. If you want to speak Spanish that's even remotely idiomatic, you will have to wrestle with both forms of the verb to be. How hideous you find it may vary, depending on your familiarity with other languages, many of which find even more complicated ways of expressing the state of being (Irish comes to mind).
Anyway, this is a decent little book, focusing on examples and exercise drills rather than theory. Which is exactly what this kind of book should do. It does, of course, sneak in two chapters about prepositions (para, con, sin, a, de, en, & por), but that's unavoidable, as they are essential in the formation of various modismos and expresiones especiales using ser & estar.
There's no effort to liven things up, say with humor, drawings, or any concession to decent graphic design. The approach is charmless, but efficient.
Various editions of this book are available online in digitized form. But that shouldn't stop you from getting your own physical copy. Nothing can rivVarious editions of this book are available online in digitized form. But that shouldn't stop you from getting your own physical copy. Nothing can rival the joy of browsing through it - you're bound to learn something fascinating along the way. As Terry Pratchett says in the Foreword, it's a storehouse of "little parcels of serendipitous information of a kind that are perhaps of no immediate use, but which are, nevertheless very good for the brain."
First published in 1870, Brewer's has flourished for over a century. It has always been the reference book that "reaches the parts others cannot", the option you try if what you are looking for is not in a standard dictionary or encyclopedia. Even if you don't find what you're looking for, chances are you'll uncover something even more interesting. The fact that it has reached its 17th edition (published in 2005) suggests that it clearly meets a need, even if its exact scope can be hard to pin down precisely. Certainly, one need look no further with a question about ‘traditional’ myths and legends – from the Erymanthian boar to the Swan of Tuonela, from Aarvak and the Abbasids to zombies and Zoroastrians, they’re all covered. The latest edition updates the mythical pantheon to include such creatures as the Balrog and Nazgûl, Voldemort and Dumbledore, the Psammead and Zaphod Beeblebrox, to name only a few.
This edition incorporates many new features to tempt the reader -- a listing of idioms from Spanish, French, and German, first lines in fiction, assorted sayings attributed to Sam Goldwyn, curious place names in Great Britain and Ireland, the dogs, horses, and last words of various historical and fictional figures. So, while looking for information on freemasonry, you may find yourself diverted to learn that French people don’t dress to the nines – instead they put on their thirty-one, perhaps in preparation for a bout of window pane licking (window shopping). And if that femme fatale you met last night stands you up this evening, it may be that she has other cats to whip. Or it could be that she has received a messenger from Rome (who might be called Aunt Flo by an English speaker).
But as always, it’s the weird tidbits, stumbled across by sheer accident, that are the real delight. For instance, I could certainly have gotten through my entire life without knowing about the blue men of the Minch . But knowing that they are legendary beings who haunt the Minches (the channels separating the Outer Hebrides from the rest of Scotland), occasionally bothering sailors, enriches my life. The added information that they are either kelpies or fallen angels, and are reputed to drag mariners to the bottom of the sea if they fail to answer questions in rhyming couplets (in Gaelic, naturally), fills me with unutterable glee.
As do most of the entries in this terrific reference book.
I have mixed feelings about this book. On the plus side, it definitely fills a niche. It's well-organized and easy to use. But coverage seems idiosyncI have mixed feelings about this book. On the plus side, it definitely fills a niche. It's well-organized and easy to use. But coverage seems idiosyncratic - sometimes seeming oddly all-embracing (you get the impression that some words are in there just because they may, at one time, have shared a dictionary with an animal), but with definite gaps, and already appearing distinctly dated (it was published in 1995). Specific examples are given below, but first my scoring in various categories.
Coverage: 3 out of 5 Scholarship: 4.5 out of 5. User-friendliness: 4.5 out of 5 Charm: 2 out of 5
Total: 14 out of 20, or 3.5 stars.
To give credit where it is due, the dictionary is extremely well-organized. The primary alphabetical listing of entries is augmented by a second index, wherein all entries are re-listed by animal (alphabetically by animal). This second index, which runs to 40 pages, also includes sections for "bird (general)", "fish (general)", and "insect (general", and is one of the most attractive features of the book. For instance, it allows one to get an immediate answer to the question: "what animal is the basis for the most metaphors?" (horse, with dog as a close second). Cross-referencing is extensive and helpful.
Scholarship appears excellent - the list of primary references is comprehensive, but not excessive, and Professor Palmatier is an authoritative guide, albeit a somewhat matter-of-fact one. Reaction to the style in which the explanations are couched is, of course, subjective, but I found the dryness of his style - I can't avoid the word - just plain dull. I have no doubt that Professor Palmatier is a language enthusiast (I mean, let's face it, only someone who's a little crazy about language would even contemplate an undertaking like this dictionary), but somehow his enthusiasm doesn't really shine through in most of the entries.
This lack of charisma is the main reason for my low rating on the 'charm' scale. Also, despite apparently broad inclusion criteria ('erode' and 'erase' are included, linked to the rat only on the basis of a shared etymological root, 'rodere', the verb "to dig"; CAT scan and catsup are included, despite having nothing to do with cats, or any other animal), there are some glaring omissions. Some of these reflect evolution of the language since 1995, but not all can be explained in this way. Below is a partial list of terms you won't find in the dictionary; I'm sure there are others.
Some may reasonably be believed to have entered the language after publication of this dictionary: jump the shark, prairie-dogging, skunkworks, mouse potato, yak-shaving, seagull manager, salmon day, donkey sentence, feathered fish, stress puppy, idea hamster, ant farm, goat-roping exercise, mole-groomer, sleep camel , and may be judged not yet to have passed the test of time. Other omissions seem less defensible: doe-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights look, like herding cats, four horsemen of the apocalypse, pale horse, singerie, frogmarch, elephant’s graveyard, culture vulture, zebra crossing, Schrodinger’s cat, brass monkey weather, dead cat bounce, dogsbody, monkeys’ (or foxes’) wedding, poodle-faker . I give Professor Palmatier the benefit of the doubt on sweater puppies. Pussies and beavers are given their due in the dictionary, though don’t look for the more vulgar, feline, version of henpecked. Credit to Prof P. for overcoming his midwestern reticence to include the term “beaver shot”, an instance where his somewhat desiccated style serves him well:
shoot a beaver: to sneak a look at, or photograph, the adult female pudenda, or vulva. The American beaver has long been prized for its thick brown fur, which is used to make capes, coats, and hats, although the semiaquatic animal is usually trapped rather than shot. A beaver shot is a filmed or taped picture of the female genitals.
(That little aside, "is usually trapped rather than shot", is hilarious).
I didn’t intend for this review to end on a vulgar note; it just seems to have worked out that way.
This is the second in a series of six reviews focusing on books about Greek mythology. The books included in this comparative evaluation are:
Bulfinch'This is the second in a series of six reviews focusing on books about Greek mythology. The books included in this comparative evaluation are:
Bulfinch's Mythology (Modern Library Paperback Edition, 2004) Mythology by Edith Hamilton (originally published in 1942; Back Bay Books edition of 1998) The Greek Myths by Robert Graves (Penguin Books combined edition, 1992) Gods and Heroes of Ancient Greece by Gustav Schwab (Pantheon Books, copyright 1946) Don't Know Much About Mythology by Kenneth C. Davis (Harper Collins, 2005) Myths of the Ancient Greeks by Richard P. Martin (New American Library, 2003)
Goodreads is not really set up to handle comparative reviews smoothly, so the discussion is split across the six book reviews. Thus, I've tried to evaluate each book on its own particular merits, and also give some idea of how it stacks up relative to the others. I based the comparative evaluation on three main general criteria - readability, accuracy, and scope (breadth and depth of coverage); I also looked at how each book handled two particular examples -- the life of Hercules and the story of Philomela and Procne. More details about the comparison can be found in the introduction to the first review:
One of the problems in this whole undertaking is that some of the books on the list are acknowledged to be "classics", which makes it harder to review them objectively. You end up second-guessing yourself - maybe the classic status is causing you to be unduly deferential. Or maybe you're overcompensating by being too mean.
One thing became clear to me as I read these books. Although the myths remain unchanged, the way that we think about them has evolved considerably over the last 150 years. This is one reason why the bowdlerized myths presented to us by Bulfinch, in which each story is rendered moribund by being stripped of all reference to sex, violence, or any hint of unpleasantness, are so unsatisfactory to a 21st century reader.
Fortunately, Edith Hamilton is no prude. Her enthusiasm for the stories in "Mythology" is evident throughout the book. At times, she comes across as a woman on a mission - her conviction about the importance of these myths in Western culture is so passionate that she is determined to spread the message to a broader audience. She is scrupulous about identifying her source materials (on this point Bulfinch is, sadly, more dilettante than scholar). She knows how to structure a narrative. Her prose is clear and reasonably accessible - slightly dated, but largely unburdened by archaic language or academic jargon. "Mythology" even comes with a bunch of nifty illustrations, done by someone with the improbable name of Steele Savage (with a great fondness for winged horses, apparently). Though her first book wasn't published until she was in her sixties, her work achieved great popular success. Book-of-the-Month Club selection in 1957, honorary citizenship of Athens, a highly laudatory obit in the New York Times when she finally died at age 95 - what's not to love?
To sum up the points in its favor: Hamilton does well on the three basic criteria (accessibility, credibility, extent of coverage) the writing is clear, she is commendably rigorous about sourcing, and there are no glaring gaps in the extent of coverage. Both of my "test myths" were covered well; the story of Procne and Philomela particularly so. The family trees for the major Gods and important families of mortals are a really useful feature.
I wish that I liked "Mythology" better. But I have no great love for this book. That 3rd star was given only because I felt obliged to acknowledge her superiority to Bulfinch. But, for me, the book has an inescapable "Reader's Digest" feel to it. Yeah, the writing is clear. It's adequate, but never more than that - it never takes off, even in those obvious places where you think it must. I know this is an unfair comparison, but earlier in the month I had been reading Oscar Wilde's stories for children, as well as some of Kipling's poetry, and I kept waiting for Hamilton to dazzle me, even just a little bit. But she never did. And those nifty illustrations? Cheesy beyond belief. It's not just the over-representation of winged steeds, there's also way too much use of the threatening dark thundercloud effect, and the human figures are invariably depicted as shrieking heavenward as they shake their evidently double-jointed limbs in panic.
Finally, it should be noted that Hamilton's retelling of the Greek myths is based solely on her study of the classical literature - she had never been to Greece, and had no archaeological experience. Examination of myth from an anthropological or psychological perspective is also absent. There is about a page of rambling prose in the introduction in which the words "myth", "religion" and "Nature" appear together prominently, but no coherent thesis is advanced.
Sometimes Hamilton is opinionated to a fault:
"Intelligence did not figure largely in anything he did and was often conspicuously absent." (about Hercules) "The terrifying irrational has no place in classical mythology. Magic ... is almost nonexistent. Ghosts never appear on earth in any Greek story."
I don't really mind if she disses Hercules, but her gratuitous dissing of my boy Ovid really didn't win her any points.
All in all, reading "Mythology" was not as much fun as I had expected. I'm not sure that it deserves to be considered a true classic....more
Well, I think we all know my particular weakness by now. Rosie is more likely to bear the Donald's lovechild than I to leave the store without this adWell, I think we all know my particular weakness by now. Rosie is more likely to bear the Donald's lovechild than I to leave the store without this addition to my collection....more
This is indeed a most excellent book, with plenty of gems to amuse and educate even the most erudite word maven. Were I to rate it on content alone, IThis is indeed a most excellent book, with plenty of gems to amuse and educate even the most erudite word maven. Were I to rate it on content alone, I would give it an unabashed 5-star rating - broad selection of words, with associated definitions and discussion being generally clear and informative.
However, one cannot judge a reference book like this solely in terms of its content. Organization matters - specifically, the ease with which one can expect to retrieve the information being sought. And this book sucks in that regard. The author has a bizarre, and infuriating, predilection for separating words from their definitions, sending the reader on a cross-referencing frenzy around the book. Obviously, some cross-referencing is inevitable in any dictionary, but Schur seems to like to give his readers the run-around for no apparent reason.
For instance:
Why should someone looking up the word 'haiku' be redirected to the entry under 'cinquain'? If we proceed to that entry, we find definitions, not only for cinquain , but also for 'tanka', 'hokku', and - finally - 'haiku'. Why lump these four definitions together here, instead of locating each definition directly unter a discrete entry for the associated word? These are not synonyms.
Similarly, why is the definition for 'pawky' located as an aside included in the definition for 'pantagamy'? The two words have nothing to do with one another.
Look up 'lupine', 'caprine', 'leonine', 'asinine' -- in each case, you will be directed to the word 'accipitrine' before you get your definition. This is because all of the animal adjectives are included together in a single list, and 'accipitrine' happens to be the first element on the alphabetized list.
But enough griping. Let me finish on a positive note, by including 3 of my current favorite words -
strangury: A medical term, whose meaning can be inferred from the following citation - "He that hath that dysease .... that hyghte stranguria,pysseth ofte ande lytyll."
pilliwinks: an instrument of torture designed to crush the fingers. (The discussion notes that thumbscrews were often referred to as "thumbikins", or "thumbkins", which seems akin to trying to convince someone that waterboarding is just the latest extreme sports craze.)
thank-you-ma'am: a hollow or rut across a road that causes the people in a vehicle passing over it to nod involuntarily, the way one might do in acknowledging a favor and expressing thanks.
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