“A Tale of Murder, Insanity, and the Making of the Oxford English Dictionary”

Being a self-proclaimed word nerd, this book initially piqued my interest several months ago when I saw it on the shelves of the “Books about Books” section of my local booksellers.

I acquired the necessary funds (usually from the dearth of Bookstore Gift Cards I get for Christmas and Birthdays from relatives who know little about me beyond the fact that I read like a fiend), purchased the book, and finally picked it up.

The Professor and the Madman tells the interwoven tale of James Murray, editor for 21 of the nearly 80 years it took to produce the OED, and W.C. Minor, one of the Dictionary’s most productive and most mysterious contributors. Murray sets off to visit the man who has expended so much time and effort and contributed so greatly to the creation of the OED, and is shocked to discover once he reaches what he believes to be Minor’s vast estate that the estate is actually the Broadmoor Criminal Lunatic Asylum, and W.C. Minor is actually an inmate. Though the author, Simon Winchester, goes on to debunk the myth of Murray and Minor’s first meeting, he seems to find no problem in using it as a draw for the first few chapters and in the blurb.

Well, that’s the premise, but there’s not really much more to the story than that, though Winchester manages to pad it out to 230 pages. It’s an interesting story and very well researched, but Winchester seems to touch on things superficially and defer to speculation over hard facts to keep up the intrigue (perhaps a traumatic experience in the U.S. Army during the Civil War was the trigger for Minor’s delusions, maybe he had an affair with the wife of the man he murdered (after the murder, when she visited him at Broadmoor)).

The real shame is that this story is fascinating, for the right audience, but the facts should be able to speak for themselves. One of Winchester’s main problems seems to be that he doesn’t trust his readers enough to let them draw their own conclusions. His style is heavy handed at points, but didn’t bother me overmuch until the end. He spends a good portion of the last chapter and the entire postscript expounding on how tragic the story is. Well, had he conveyed that in the story, that whole treacle-y mess would be unnecessary.

As it stands, the entire thing comes off as mighty self-indulgent: the superficial exploration of schizophrenia (Minor’s most likely modern diagnosis; what is sanity anyway?); the Postscript in which he explains his somewhat cryptic dedication (to Minor’s murder victim. Why not just use his name instead of initials, then?); the Author’s Note; the Acknowledgements (6 pages); suggestions for Further Reading (which recommends books on tangential topics like the American Civil War, and little more about the OED); meet Simon Winchester; a Few of Simon Winchester’s Favorite Words; an excerpt from his forthcoming book (I find these much easier to stomach when it is the author’s style, and not his story, I want to read more of. Anyone can find a good story. Not anyone can write it well.); “Have You Read?” More books by the Author.

You get the idea. How much of this do we need?

Perhaps some of these unnecessary additions are the fault of the publisher trying to boost sales. But when you read some of the sensationalist titles of Winchester’s other books (The Map that Changed the World: William Smith and the Birth of Modern Geology; Krakatoa: the Day the World Exploded), I can’t help but think Winchester was at the very least complicit in all of it.

Amazon tells me Winchester has written a sequel of sorts (The Meaning of Everything: the Creation of the Oxford English Dictionary) that focuses more on the actual Dictionary (the part of this book I found more interesting, anyhow). Perhaps this would be a better choice for the hard-core word nerds that were attracted to this book for the OED’s sake, in the first place.

Final judgment: Interesting, but fluffy. A good beach read for a bibliophile, but borrow it or get from the library. Winchester’s ego doesn’t need the boost a sales spike might give him.

Fishnets, leather boots and jacket, thick eyeliner. Not your Mother’s Barbie. And not mine either (Oh, if only. My childhood would have been infinitely more interesting).

Mattel’s newest release is Black Canary Barbie, ostensibly based on the DC Comics superheroine of the same name

Black Canary is noted for her martial-arts skills and her “Canary Cry” – a high powered, sonic scream with the ability to shatter objects and incapacitate villains. Among the first generation of superheroes, she was a member of the Justice Society of America, the first superhero team to appear in comic books.

Black Canary Barbie is slated to hit store shelves in September under the Black Label collection . Understandably, this new Dominatrix incarnation of Barbie is causing a bit of an uproar. The Sun is there

I’ll spare you a Barbie diatribe and leave you with this question: who would buy this for their daughter?

Now, don’t laugh

Or do, because really, that’s the point. As a 20-year-old self-professed “hipster” who went to see Weird Al last Friday night, I have no right to take myself or my scene cred too seriously.

Weird Al Yankovic’s Straight Outta Lynwood Tour began in March 2007 and reaches its last leg this August. This tour celebrates two significant firsts for Al: his first Top 10 Album (Straight Outta Lynwood debuted at #10 on the Billboard Charts ) and his first Top 10 Single (“White & Nerdy” debuted at #28 on the Billboard charts, but quickly shot up to #9). Both the album and the single have since gone gold.

Pier 6 Pavilion in Baltimore is a pleasant, if somewhat small venue found in the city’s scenic Inner Harbor (newly renovated! Thug-free!). This Baltimore isn’t the Baltimore of The Wire fame. You’re more likely to find tourists and yuppies here. I wouldn’t recommend walking the streets alone at night, but that goes for most major cities. Pier 6 usually houses “has-beens”—this summer Hootie and the Blowfish as well as Donna Summer are playing—but a few gems pop up every now and then (The Avett Brothers, G. Love and the Special Sauce). I saw Nickelback there when I was 14. I don’t want to talk about it.

The Gates opened at 5:30, but the show didn’t actually start until 8:30, much to my boyfriend’s chagrin (he was convinced the show would start within an hour or so. “Al wouldn’t do that to us!”). Not to worry though, Spaceballs played on the screen on stage while we eager Al fans waited. A nice touch, even if the sun made it difficult to see anything. Al’s fans—from families with prepubescent children to the 20- and 30- something societal misfits—filtered through the doors and filled up the majority of the pavilion’s seats.

I have to hand it to him, Al is a great showman. His show is family-friendly (no more risqué than your average Simpsons episode), but thoroughly entertaining. It’s a nice change from smaller bar venues where the main act might show up too drunk to perform, but make a valiant effort anyway. Changed costumes for nearly every numbered, but filled in the lag time with clips from a documentary I’m told is exclusively available on tour and contained very funny interviews with Jessica Simpson, Eminem, K. Fed, and other Al-related clips. He started with a polka medley (naturally), went through a few recent hits (White & Nerdy, Trapped at the Drive-Thru, the Saga Begins) and hit some of the old greats, too (Eat it, Fat, Gump). He even did Amish Paradise, another first for this tour after he recently made amends with Coolio. It was a fun show, which certainly makes up for any cool points I may have lost in the process.

And now, to listen to “Gump” until I can get it out of my head.