Bill Bryson

A few years ago a friend gave me a non-fiction book called The Mother Tongue by Bill Bryson. I'm not a little ashamed to admit I'd never heard of Bill Bryson. But it wasn't the first time I'd been the last in line for useful knowledge. I trusted the person who gave me the book — he had never before given me a bad recommendation – and I started reading right away.
The Mother Tongue takes an irreverent look at the history and quirks of the English language. It's a light read, not so much a history book as a collection of interesting and amusing tidbits. From the strangeness of English spelling to the curious rules of English syntax to the origin of a word like jockstrap — the book runs the gamut of English language trivia. I found myself chuckling — if not on every page, then on every other page – and frequently laughing out loud.

I liked the topic. But I loved the book. I loved the author's voice. And I was heartbroken when I turned the last page and had to part ways with my new friend. I immediately set off on foot for the local bookstore, a few blocks away, hoping against the odds that this Bill Bryson had written another book. Silently, I was panicking. I would read anything he wrote. Please, just let there be something. I didn't care what — cooking, automobile maintenance, faux painting techniques, I didn't care.

I knew the clerk at the counter. He was extremely bright and very well read, the third-generation in a family of independent booksellers. I was a little out of breath. Looking back, I may also have been a little condescending. "I just finished a great book! Great book! I'm wondering if this author has written anything else. I'd never heard of him until a friend gave me this book. But really, he's great. I can't believe he's not well known, he's just great. Smart, funny, a little sarcastic. Friendly and pleasantly derisive. I don't know if he's written anything else," and on and on until the clerk interrupted with "Who's the author?"

I resumed, "I can't believe he's not a top seller. By all rights, he should be a hit! He's just great. I couldn't put this book down. I wouldn't care what it was, if he wrote it, I'd read it." The clerk tried another parry, "The name of the book?" "Oh," I continued, "it's a book about language, but it's funny, really clever. Intelligent but accessible. Oh. It's called The Mother Tongue." At that the clerk inclined his chin slightly and glanced at the travel section behind me. I turned to see a sign on the top shelf that said "Bill Bryson." My new friend had a section of his own! I was in luck: there were ten titles. I was disappointed that there weren't twenty or thirty.

After some excruciating deliberation, I bought just one. I tried to pace myself, but within a couple of months, I had read them all. Some were travelogues of a sort: A Sunburned County, Neither Here nor There, and The Lost Continent. Some were about writing and language: Made in America and Bryson's Dictionary of Troublesome Words. And some were commentaries about English and American culture: I'm a Stranger Here Myself and Notes from a Small Island. Read this author, if you haven't already. He's great!