A collection of alphabetically organized English words and terms provides two thousand "definitions" that offer sample usage and etymology and that stand alone as informative, often hilarious miniature essays.
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, 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.
The only thing earning this book four stars instead of five is the lack of clarity in what separates the 'challenging' words from the 'obscure' ones. I can credit Norman W. Schur with cultivating my desire for a wide-ranging vocabulary.