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If you’re a wordsmith or a wordsmith wannabe, here’s a book for you. Bust my buttons!<\/em> It’s the cat’s meow<\/em>, an indubitable<\/em> lollapalooza<\/em> — and that’s no codswallop<\/em> (nor is it flapdoodle<\/em>, claptrap<\/em>, tomfoolery<\/em>, shenanigans<\/em>, malarkey<\/em>, or even blarney<\/em>). You need to find yourself a copy by hook or by crook<\/em>, or you may find yourself feeling a bit woebegone<\/em>. (I can try to not pepper this post with words and expressions from the book, but it wouldn’t be as fun, now would it?). <\/p>\nChronicle Books released this little gem of a book this month, developed and compiled by Molly Glover with additional text by Kate Hodson. It’s called L is for Lollygag: Clever Words for a Clever Tongue<\/strong><\/a><\/em> (geared officially at ages ten and up), and — as someone who has always loved a good, juicy word — I am all atwitter<\/em> about this title. This is for you word-nerds, like me, who feel a bit of ennui with your typical dictionary or even your typical alphabet book — you must go and take a look-see<\/em>. This is a world in which “A” is for alakazam<\/em>, “B” is for boondoggle<\/em>, and “C” is for catawampus<\/em>. (Amusingly enough, “X” is for nothing, since — as the book points out — “X can be a lot of fun: X marks the spot, X-ray vision, planet X, generation X, X-Men, signed with Xs and Os . . . and you can’t play Tic-Tac-Toe without good old X. But most of the tongue-tickling X words don’t actually begin<\/em> with X.” Lisa Graff would be happy<\/a><\/strong>. And, though I’m seriously digressing here, I have to add that my favorite adaptation to that pesky letter is when They Might Be Giants<\/strong><\/a> make up a country called “West Xylophone” in their “Alphabet of Nations,” one of their children’s songs, which I’ll add to the bottom of this post — appropos to very little, but just for fun.)<\/p>\n So, yes, they’re all here, words that are deliciously fun, tripping off one’s tongue: hoi polloi<\/em>, flibbertigibbet<\/em>, fussbudget<\/em>, loosey-goosey<\/em>, mizzenmast<\/em>, jittery-skittery<\/em>, kit and caboodle<\/em>, snollygoster<\/em>, and spindle-shanked<\/em> (I’ve always wanted to be spindle-shanked myself). The definitions are concise and full of swagger<\/em>, brief and often amusing. The book’s design by Tracy Sunrize Johnson is appealing: The illustrations, created by Melissa Beck, are quirky and spastic, and the book is also filled with old-fashioned images in grey-scale. Observant eyes will see things like the “enigmatic elephant” and the “parachuter with panache.” The book’s typeset (Perla, Futura, and Felina Serif) is handsome as well. All-around it’s an attractively designed book. <\/p>\n And there are not just word definitions here either: You’ve got your word lists (such as, fun interjections, exclamations, and expressions — Dagnabit!<\/em>, Goody gumdrops!<\/em>, and olly ollly oxen free!<\/em>, anyone?); moments of “Word Play” (including an impressive example of a sentence containing the at least six accepted pronunciations of the letter combinations “ough”; a reminder that there are no words in the English language that rhyme with “orange,” “silver,” “vacuum,” “pizza,” “chimney,” or “month”; the fact that the word oxymoron<\/em> itself is an oxymoron, coming from the Greek words oxo<\/em>, or “sharp,” and moros<\/em>, or “dull”; and how no one is sure of the origin of Pig Latin, yet rumor has it that Benjamin Franklin used a version of it in some of his writings); and random fun trivia, including some about Edward Gorey (I had no idea he wrote under many pseudonyms that are anagrams of his own name: Ogdred Weary, Mrs. Regera Dowdy, and Dogear Wryde), Lewis Carroll and the delicious language of his nonsense poems, and J.K. Rowling (“While making reading fun for a whole new generation, her books also offer hungry linguists wonderful new words like horcrux<\/em> . . . Muggle<\/em> . . . and quidditch<\/em> . . . although you won’t find them in any real dictionary—yet!”).<\/p>\n And here’s a conundrum<\/em> for you word-lovers out there, one that is included in the book: What occurs once in a minute and twice in a moment, but never in a hundred years? Don’t have a conniption<\/em> if you can’t come up with the answer. I’m not a wisenheimer<\/em> who will refuse to give you the answer; I have the wherewithal<\/em>. Gadzooks!<\/em> I won’t leave you hangin’. <\/p>\n Okay, this post is verging on obnoxious, huh? For serious, my friends, I heartily recommend this fun book, which would make a great gift for your word-loving friends and\/or family (I think I finally have a gift idea now for my hard-to-shop-for father, who also gets all agog<\/em> over an exciting word). The book closes on a tempting note, appealing to child readers to start their own lists when they hear a word that makes them smile. “You can even try inventing your own quirky words. Hey, if Shakespeare could do it, why can’t you?” <\/p>\n Fare-thee-well<\/em> for now! I’ve gotta 23-skiddo<\/em>. <\/p>\n Bonus for your listening pleasure: The aforementioned “Alphabet of Nations” by They Might Be Giants<\/a><\/strong> (from “Here Come the ABCs”<\/a><\/strong>):<\/em><\/p>\n