Laugh-out-loud funny, the “voice”
of this book is edgy, snarky, and perfectly “teen.” With
warnings aplenty about the grossness yet-to-come, the focus on
genitalia, bodily fluids and poop is sure to excite almost any YA
reader, particularly those of the male persuasion. Arranged in the
order of expiration, each famous person is treated to a four-page
(give or take) synopsis of their life, death, and things we've
learned since they “croaked.” After this, you get a two-page
addendum of sorts which might explain more about leeching or
tuberculosis, for example. Throughout, there are great illustrations
which highlight various parts of the tale, such as the dog that Marie
Antoinette had to give up at the border when traveling to Paris. At the back, you actually get two bibliographies – a list of the
academic sources used to write the book, and a second listing of
“lighter” sources for students to learn more – including
white-washed children's biographies, sketchy websites and Wikipedia.
I think you have to take into account what this book is designed for,
and what it isn't. This isn't a research item, it's a coffee-table
book for teens that is best used to peak interest. Although you
could blast through the 161 pages in a day, I found it more enjoyable
to read a couple of entries, then come back to it now and then.
That's all on the plus side. On the negative, there are serious
concerns about facts with books like this. Trying to streamline
history in a way to make it “cool” often results in a kind of
dumbing-down that is somewhat cringe-worthy. Take, for instance, the
comment that none of Henry VIII's wives stayed around very long –
contradicted by the fact that he was married to his first wife for more
than 20 years, something noted in the addendum to that section. The
Henry entry also neglects to mention that the king “leaked” out
of his coffin in the end – odd for a book that delights in anything
nasty. In the section on Elizabeth I, the addendum states that only
nine Shakespeare plays were written during her lifetime (um, no, the
bulk of the canon was written and performed during her reign,
including “The Merry Wives of Windsor” – written specifically for the
Queen, who wanted Falstaff resurrected after she saw “Henry V”).
In the James Garfield section, Lee Harvey Oswald is listed as a
Presidential Assassin, but with a question-mark. It goes on and on.
The love letters between Napoleon and Josephine? Ignored. The
would-be emperor is made out to be a jerk, and in the black-and-white
world of teen books, a bad guy can't also be someone who had a hot,
steamy love-affair. What is inferred or left off is a general issue throughout.
For example, Beethoven is virtually the only major composer to see significant
recognition in his lifetime – and surely this was the reason that he had
the financial means to address ongoing health issues – but it is never mentioned. It is also hinted at that he was gay – maybe,
maybe not (what I've read leads me to lean on the side of not) but
it's more for the smart-a** factor that this part of his personal life is mentioned, rather than
anything relevant to the story. The author also waxes on about how
lives were cut short by bad diagnoses, poor treatment and horrific
diseases, but many in this book lived far beyond what they should
have, given the life-expectancy of their times and the health issues
they faced. One inexplicable omission in the book is coverage of Catherine the
Great, whose death (in rumor, if not fact) was certainly as notorious
as her life. Guess they wanted to keep the whole thing PG. In the
end, it's an enjoyable book that will attract and engage teen
readers. If they are serious about learning more, the academic
resources listed in the back will be great places to start. I just have to work on not taking it too seriously.
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