Open SEMICOLON and prepare for a two night diet of salt-free saltines with nothing to drink. The title of the book is flaming erotica compared to its content.
SEMICOLON is actually about grammar and a few who care about it. Therefore, it should not surprise that the book has more padding than a hockey goalie. Herman Melville and his whale bang into the James brothers (William and Henry) while Mark Twain fumes and the American judicial system trips over itself. A bit of it is interesting. A lot of it is not.
The author makes a reasonable effort, even tossing in some random profanity that lands like added gravel in an alley of unnecessaries. Yet I am the main culprit of my dismay. I was the one who bought the book, hoping the author would overcome my skepticism with flash and dazzle. My hopes were dashed (see pages 151-156).
It’s possible this book was written to accompany a survey course to be conducted in a large classroom. If so, the sound you hear is dozens of rumps shifting on those hard chairs as students settle in for a very long semester.