For the fifth year in a row, Fine Books and Collections Contributing Writer Nate Pedersen picked my brains about 100-year-old best sellers for a January post for the magazine’s blog.
Nate is one of the co-authors of Quackery, a nonfiction books which I profiled here December 27, 2019. I met him through doing the retrospectives and that’s how I discovered his book.
Reading vintage fiction has been my hobby for years, but doing it systematically was a fairly recent decision. This year I’ll finish reading all the bestsellers of the 20th century and reviewing them for contemporary readers at my blog GreatPenformances. After that, I’m going to go back to being unsystematic again, starting, I think with Charles Dickens and some Elizabeth Berg novels I’ve missed.
Despite their glowing reviews, the nonfiction books I read in the fourth quarter of 2019 turned out not to be literary nonfiction at all. Literary nonfiction is like novels: It must be read in chapter order. The books I read are each practical nonfiction.
Despite my disappointment, I’m keeping two of them for my classroom library because of their potential to attract reluctant readers to nonfiction books. Rather than developing a theme, each of the books is a collection of anecdotes on a theme. You can read chapter 7, skip to chapter 13, and then read chapter 1 in either of these books. That is part of their appeal: They need not be read from cover to cover; they can be picked up and sampled.
I Love It When You Talk Retro
Ralph Keyes’s bookI Love It When You Talk Retro explores terms and catchphrases that have remained part of the American vocabulary long after people have forgotten where the terms originated or to what they originally referred.
Necktie party, scuttlebutt, blow your wad, puppet state, bandwagon effect, and Catch-22 are only a few of the terms that Keyes discusses in chapters devoted to words with common origins, such as terms from sports, terms from occupations that no longer exist, and terms from media of earlier centuries.
Keyes designed the book so it can be browsed, used as a reference book, or read cover to cover.
I wouldn’t recommend reading Talk Retro cover-to-cover, let alone asking students to read it cover-to-cover. It’s a book better read in multiple, short sessions.
You might have pairs or trios of students read a chapter and give brief slide presentation to the class about the origins of a few of the expressions that they discovered through their reading.
Talk Retro could certainly be useful in prompting a discussion of the importance of word choices in communicating with individuals outside one’s peer group.
I Love It When You Talk Retro: Hoochie Coochie, Double Whammy, Drop a Dime, and the Forgotten Origins of American Speech. Ralph Keyes. St. Martins. 2009. 310 p.
By contrast to I Love It When You Talk Retro, Quackery is co-written by writers from a younger generation. Their language is very much Netflix and Hulu, not retro. Lavishly illustrated and split into small chunks of reading, Quackery is a book with a high “Ugh, gross!” factor that would appeal to a middle school readers.
Lydia Kang, M.D., and Nate Petersen, a freelance writer, put together a fact-packed, 344-page book, about the crazy things people have done to cure illnesses, increase their lifespan or their libido, get rid of excess weight, or solve dozens or other real or imaginary problems.
Some of the quack cures described were simply mistakes. A few of the “quacks” followed their own advice, often with fatal results. Most of the quack cures, however, were deliberate, money-making schemes.
The books is chock full of interesting, albeit not particularly useful, bits history. For example, the cereal company founder, John Harvey Kellogg, invented a light booth in which someone stood naked while he/she tanned and sweated under harsh lights. Kellogg said the treatment cured diabetes and scarlet fever and helped prevent constipation. King Edward VII had booths installed at Windsor and Buckingham castles in England.
The chapters of Quackery are mercifully short: Many of the descriptions are enough to make you gag, and that internal response is heightened by the use of pond-scum green edging on all the pages.
I’d put Quackery on a classroom shelf to attract seventh grade boys to pick up a book. It’s chapters are extensively illustrated with ads, vintage photos, illustrations from old books and periodicals of instruments and animals used in the various treatments, all of which would delight most seventh graders. Also, the topics are sufficiently scatological to appeal to seventh grade boys, as would the authors’ humor.
Quackery: A Brief History of the Worst Ways to Cure Everything. Lydia Kang MD and Nate Pedersen. Workman Publishing. 2017. 344 p.