3 of 4 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
This is not light reading...it is seriously funny., September 18, 1998
By A Customer
This review is from: The Clan of the Flapdragon and Other Adventures in Etymology, by B.M.W. Schrapnel, Ph.D. (Hardcover)
The Clan of the Flapdragon is a fun book of short essays. Each one concerns the history of some word or phrase, but quickly veers off in unexpected directions. The word is "weenie" in "Weenie Roasts and Ecotage" but before long Dr. chrapnel has managed to slur environmentalists, the Buffalo Bills, Sarasota county commissioners and Oscar Meyer. This is not light reading, a book to be kept on the nightstand to induce drowsiness. Read Dr. Schrapnel carefully and you will be awed by his insight, revolted by his pomposity and floored by his wit...sometimes all in one sentence. Often, as in the excellent piece "Hoodunit" you may wonder whether Schrapnel has done some outstanding research or just made the whole thing up. Unlike Dave Barry, he never tells. But in the end it doesn't matter..."Hoodunit" is fun to read in either case. This book is best enjoyed like a box of chocolates: one or two a day. Okay, maybe a third, but save some for tomorrow.
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3 of 4 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Not since Swift has there been such satire!, January 24, 2000
By A Customer
This review is from: The Clan of the Flapdragon and Other Adventures in Etymology, by B.M.W. Schrapnel, Ph.D. (Hardcover)
I am aghast. Never have I read a book that is so annoying, erudite, and hilarious all at the same time. Schrapnel's method of using discussions of word origins as springboards into rants on everything from literature to poontang to wild leeks is quite the satirical hoot. Particularly of interest are his parodies on poetry criticism by way of essays on a dead poet named Toulouse Mars, who was also a licensed proctologist. Schrapnel takes a radical stance on environmental activism implying that the green movement is not violent enough. Also amusing and enlightening is his piece on writer rejection slips. Finally, the author's discriminating comparison of the words WISDOM and CYNICISM is a smart reminder that so many writers and supposed thinkers of the day are often little more than third-rate wisecrackers pretending to be philosophical and learned. Then there are the letters from supposedly irate readers of Schrapnel, which verify the theory put forth in the Preface that the book can also be read as an epistolary novel. There is so much going on here in the way of zany, sophisticated satire that I guess I'll have to read it again and again.
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3 of 4 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Etymology cops an attitude, August 23, 1998
By A Customer
This review is from: The Clan of the Flapdragon and Other Adventures in Etymology, by B.M.W. Schrapnel, Ph.D. (Hardcover)
One thing can be said for sure about The Clan of the Flapdragon and Other Adventures in Etymology, by B.M.W. Schrapnel, Ph.D.: There has never been another book quite like it. It almost defies description. It's part serious etymology, part semi-serious satire and part, as mentioned on the book jacket, "dementia."
Technically the book is a collection of thirty short pieces on a wild variety of topics. Three titles give you an idea of the range of Schrapnel's interests: "The Protean Obscenity and His Sister," "Romanticism Now and Then," and "Ted Nugent Must Die!"
Almost every article is followed by letters purportedly written in response to the piece in question. This feature is called "Cleopatra's Basket," and I suspect many readers, like me, will find it the funniest part of the book. It's filled with classic spoofs of the kind of missives sent in by readers of serious literary magazines.
It's hard to pin down exactly where Dr. Schrapnel stands on the numerous political, artistic, academic and cultural issues he rants about. He's an equal opportunity satirist, as every good satirist should be. For instance, he spends a lot of time skewering people like the "slime-cake politician who's on the secret payroll of big industry and rampant development at any cost." But just when you have him pegged as a tree-hugger, you come across something like, "Most environmental organizations are a crock of wormy fools who get off watching itsy-bitsy birds, or identifying pukey-colored butterflies, while the habitat near and around them goes down at a more methodical and embarrassing rate every year, sort of like your Buffalo Bills at the Super Bowl."
Or take feminism. The ultras of that persuasion come in for their share of lampooning, but even the curmudgeonly Dr. Schrapnel must have his Alan Alda side, for in one of the letters in Cleopatra's Basket a California member of NOW writes: "The Feminist Community commends you for an essay finally devoid of any slurs aimed at us. This doesn't mean that we have removed your name from our top ten list of degenerate chauvinist swine--once a pig, always a pig--but we do encourage you to continue on an artistic path that has no cultural or spiritual potholes."
I hope he stays right where he is, wherever that is.
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