A disappointing and lacklustre book. It promises to tell the history of English in 100 words, and obviously I wasn't going to take that literally, but it could have made an effort. The chapters are enticingly in chronological order, and listed in the Contents along with their nature: a borrowed word, a portmanteau word, a scientific word, etc.
But the execution is plodding. For the most part, what we learn is prosaic and surface remarks. e.g. from a chapter about words of Indian derivation we learn that: there are some, here they are, and we got them when we went to India. You amaze me. Other words are Australian, or Japanese. Music was spelt many different ways, but not so much since Johnson's dictionary. Really. Rhubarb used to have no h. Oh.
Some words expand, like nation to denationalisation. Other shrink, like edit from edition, automate from automation. Some haven't taken, like helicopt. Right, OK...
American pronounce words differently: garage, schedule, tomato. There are initialisations like FBI, and acronyms like NATO, and oddities like IOU. Fine, fine, but *please* tell me whether any of this actually means anything, or provide some insight into hidden connection.
At other times, what the author says is relatively fatuous, ending in a rhetorical flick like at the end of a TV news article: use of proper names for words leads to odd sentences like "would you like some Earl Grey?"!! Hilarity itself.
And then other bits betray a lack of thought: he mentions "oojamaflip", which is fine, then ends with a grace note that he's only ever used it in this article. No: you've mentioned it. And shuriken is vacantly defined as "(a type of weapon)". The dust jacket says you're "the foremost expert on English", buck up.
There are some moments of interest: hlaf-weard, or "bread warden" shortened to laird and lord. Rohan's Meduseld literally means "mead hall". Lawyers double up words like "cease and desist", "fit and proper" to accommodate English/French and Latin speakers. Glamour and spell - seemingly magical - both derive from today's more prosaic grammar and spelling. There are hugely entertaining specialties on the etymology of OK.
But overall the whole thing smacked of an academic thinking "I'm a top flight professor of linguistics, I'm sure I can write me one of those etymology dip-into books", and then sitting down and rattling off a list of bland and shallow facts, and lists of what words come from where. The Etymologicon is a much better read for this type of thing.