I think this review is best done by simply discussing the conclusions I made while reading:
Grammar Snobs is probably the funniest grammar book available. Casegrande has a wicked sense of humor, and some of her jokes are bawdy to the point of being one-liners for the Simpsons or Family Guy. She tells her reader that she researched both for this book, and it shows (in the best way). Her jokes mostly hit the mark, and in several places I was laughing out loud in public places, trying to hide the fact that this was a grammar book and that people would think I had gone insane. Laughing. At a grammar book. Yep.
The book is not for everyone. The book is for everyone. As I read through the book, I tried to figure out her target audience. I wondered if she felt she was targeting the snobs themselves. I wondered if she was targeting neophyte grammarphiles who feel a compulsion to jump straight into the heavy lifting that comes with grammar. I wondered too if it was written for those individuals (me!) in the trenches of grammar warfare. The book strikes a strange balance between these three groups. Her name-dropping suggests the first one—-many jokes are much funnier if you actually know the people she is talking about (well, not know, but, you know, professionally and stuff). Her direct address of the reader also suggests the second: “The reigning grammar snobs have no desire to help the majority of people who would like to use the language with greater confidence but who don’t want to dedicate their lives to the stuff” (192). In other words, I want to help you, but the rest of them don’t. This also plays a bit into the third possible audience; is she admonishing editors/teachers to go easier on the people who must simply use the English language rather than knowing the mechanics of it? I’m not sure. The book suffers a bit for this uncertainty, yet it is balanced by Casagrande’s genuine, infectious desire to better the reader.
Grammar Snobs does a fantastic job of showing the dissonance between various language authorities. Many of us grew up being told archaic rules like ‘Don’t split an infinitive!’ without being told why. The secret in all of those classrooms—-the dangerous idea that teachers would brutally punish if they saw it in their students (my teachers, especially)—-was that they didn’t know either. The teachers were taught it was bad, and they accepted it. Their teachers were taught ... and so on and so on until the present day. The fact is that English doesn’t split infinitives because good old perfect Latin doesn’t split infinitives (never mind the silly idea that Latin’s infinitives are only one word long while English uses ‘to’ with the base). Casagrande discusses splitting infinitives in her book, and she actively encourages her readers to go about splitting them as long as it makes them happy. She doesn't discuss the historical roots of the issue, but she does get across the central point. She shows that various language authorities (all self-proclaimed) cannot make up their minds about this situation. As such, she gives her reader a kind of carte blanche to split infinitives. That’s as good of an explanation as any, and I think that the average reader (the second group) only needs to know this in order to feel justified and to boldly go forth and do so. I like any purported authority who encourages speakers to do what they already intuitively know is right—-grammarians have ruined the language more than any backwater mountain man.
(To defend that in brief, as I know some teeth will be ground on this point: Latin is dead, meaning that no one speaks it any longer. People say that it is thus static; since no one speaks it, Latin cannot adapt and grow to encompass new words. For instance, Latin has no word for the internet. Grammarians try to make English static while, on the other hand, mountain men growl it, spit it, chew it, and double modal it, using it ‘As she might ought to be spoken’.)
Casagrande skims through explanations in certain places. You may have noticed this in the last point I made, but it’s a big one for me. She gives reasonable critiques of the rules; she offers excellent advice throughout the book; she also never deigns to be the language authority, only its messenger ... but she also doesn’t bother to bring more technical information to the discussion. For instance, in her talk about fewer/less, she doesn’t use the words ‘count’ or ‘mass’ in reference to nouns. She does bring in analogous distinctions, but it seemed strange to me that she would skip using the language reserved for this idea since this terminology is so intuitive.
This leads to the only true complaint that I have. Sometimes Casagrande gets too sidetracked with her humor and stories. For instance, she spent a great deal of time telling the reader about being naked in the bathtub in one chapter. I get this—-and I get the underlying reason for it—-but it does get a bit too overwhelming in some spots. As I mentioned earlier, her jokes hit the mark for the most part, but there are a few that fall flat. I think that any great comedian has this issue, meaning that I forgave it as a I read. I only note it because I'm not sure that all readers will. Some may feel that she is being too irreverent without spending enough time on the meat of the book. I think that given the topic, Casagrande has done the best possible job that a writer could do.
Bottom line: I would recommend this book to anyone in the three groups mentioned above. The first group will find the book infuriating. The second will find it helpful. The third will find it hilarious.