I must have missed the memo: this isn't a book about the English language as much as it is a memoir of a copy-editor's relationship with the English language throughout the course of her tenure at the New Yorker (which would have been fine if I was interested in that sort of thing). I didn't find it funny, educational, or endearing. I didn't even find it organized or consistent, let alone engaging. It felt trifling at best, stifling and elitist at worst (only poetry and classics are allowed to be creative, all other attempts are scorned; Americans aren't proper enough or intellectual enough to be allowed the use of the semicolon). Often she would make a blanket statement about proper punctuation usage, only to follow it with an example of a renowned author doing the opposite with great success. I nearly quit reading multiple times, but pushed through...it was only 200 pages, and I spent hardcover prices on it for goodness' sake. I'm sure all of my erroneous punctuation here would make her cringe, and this thought, at least, provides me with a moment's joy.

Recommended for those with an interest in:
- the New Yorker
- memoirs
- feeling like you're in high school English again
- non-creative writing
- pencils (and other casualties of the technological era)
- name dropping
- tips on being a proper grammar Nazi

Okay, I'm being too snarky. Admittedly, the author made multiple comments about restraint on the part of the editor, allowing improper grammar in order to let the magic of a sentence really show, etc. I just don't like memoirs much and I'm allergic to inside-the-box thinking.