Book Review: Does a Bear Sh*t in the Woods?

It’s Book Review Tuesday yet again – honestly, is it just me, or does it seem like the weeks just fly by?  Oh wait, maybe that’s because this is my first work day since the Honeymoon ended.  Sigh.  Anyway, today’s post features a book review conducted for LuxuryReading.com.  A review copy of Does a Bear Sh*t in the Woods? was provided courtesy of LuxuryReading, and the original, condensed, review, which was posted October 29, is available here.

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Book Review: Does a Bear Sh*t in the Woods?

Well, does it?  Who knows really – probably hunters, loggers, and zoologists.  Oh yeah, and apparently Caroline Taggart, the author of this goofy little book about the answers to rhetorical questions.

Rhetorical questions, for those of you who are out of the intellectual loop, are questions that are asked – usually for dramatic oratorical effect or emphasis – for which no answer is expected.  (This is my definition, not anyone else’s, hence the lack of attribution.)  I love rhetorical questions – I rather love words, as I’ve pointed out before, and I think rhetoric is a fabulous way to play with language.

In Taggart’s words (from the Afterword): “Rhetoric was an integral part of a classical education, not only in Ancient Greek times but right up to the Middle Ages in much of Europe.  Nowadays you would study it at university if you were taking a philosophy course, but probably would not come across it otherwise.”

Well, I was a philosophy major, and that is where I first ran into the rhetorical wall.  And yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking: “what a useful degree, Jill-Elizabeth, brilliant choice.”  Actually, it was – on both counts.  Those philosophy classes taught me how to reason, argue, and think; they taught me how to pick apart dense intellectual (and quasi-intellectual) arguments and to distill them down to their essential components.  All skills I found useful in law school, various jobs, and even in writing.  So to all my critics, I have only one (rhetorical question) thing to say: “Who’s the wise guy now?”

Anyway, back to the book.

The book is a cute aggregation of a series of rhetorical questions from literature, music, and popular culture, with answers provided.  Some of the answers are clever and designed to amuse, some contain actual information, and some are just plain silly.  It’s a fun little book that will teach you a few fun little facts to trot out at cocktail parties or whenever else you might need small talk.

There is no author biography provided, but Taggart appears to be British from some of her linguistic choices, and the book is deliciously snarky a few times.  I wish it had been snarkier, frankly – snark being one of my favorite components of any book that falls within the “trivia/humor” book category.  It was a little too light and fluffy at times for my tastes; I could have used less of the “well, that’s really up to the speaker to decide” type of answers (admittedly applicable to more than a few rhetorical questions, but neither particularly informative nor entertaining in a book intended to be humorous) and of the references to pop music and more of the historical/literary references with actual facts and information to explain their origins and meanings.

But that may just be me.

I don’t tend to love books on pop culture, largely because I don’t always get all the references.  I’m no luddite, mind you, but I don’t love a lot of what the masses of the population seem to – I never got into reality television or gameshows or dance music, can’t stand People Magazine or Us Weekly or tabloids.  I don’t like practical jokes or pranks or shows like Jackass or Funniest Home Videos that delight in them.  And so when a book uses those as references or source material, I do the same thing I do when my friends (or strangers) talk about those things: I smile politely and turn my brain to other things.

I found myself doing that once or twice here, admittedly.  The book was cute though, and the premise was a clever and kitschy one – and I do enjoy clever and kitschy.  Don’t expect to walk away with a profound understanding of the meaning of life, but you can expect to walk away with a grin and having giggled more than once.  And really, isn’t that what humor/trivia is about?