It was 10:45 PM on a Tuesday. I had a stack of sophomore essays on The Great Gatsby in front of me, and I was about three typos away from throwing my red pen through the window. (Denise says I'm dramatic. I say I'm passionate about syntax.)
So, naturally, what did I do to unwind? I put on an audiobook about terrible grammar. Because apparently, I'm a masochist.
But here's the thing—English as She is Wrote isn't the depressing kind of bad grammar I see in my classroom. It's the hilarious, historical, accidentally genius kind. It's a short collection—barely an hour and a half—of linguistic train wrecks from signboards, epitaphs, and letters. And honestly? It was exactly the palate cleanser I needed after reading twenty variations of "Jay Gatz loved Dasie."
TriciaG and the Art of the Deadpan
Let's talk about TriciaG for a second. (I couldn't find much about her background, but she sounds like a veteran of the classic audio scene.)
Narrating humor is tricky. Narrating unintentional humor is even harder. If you laugh at the joke while you're reading it, you kill it. You have to play it straight.
TriciaG nails this. She approaches these mangled sentences with the seriousness of a judge reading a verdict. Clear, articulate, and she lets the absurdity stand on its own two feet. When she reads a signboard that was clearly translated by someone guessing at the English language, she doesn't do a goofy voice. She just reads it.
The pacing is spot on, too. Usually, I'm a strict 1.0x speed guy—the author chose the rhythm, respect the rhythm, etc.—but with a list-style book like this, you worry it might drag. It didn't. She moves from one blunder to the next with a steady clip that keeps you chuckling without getting exhausted.
Why We Watch the Linguistic Train Wreck
As an English teacher, this book is basically my id run wild. It's categorized into sections like "By Advertisers" or "For Epitaphs," and it's fascinating to hear how people have been butchering the language for centuries. It's not just modern kids with their TikTok slang. (See? I can be fair.)
There's something deeply human about these mistakes. It reminds me of what I tell my students: language is a tool, and sometimes we hold it by the wrong end. Listening to this, I found myself laughing out loud in my home office—which woke up the dog, sorry Buster—because some of these malapropisms are just... wow. They're poetry in their own broken way.
It's not a narrative, obviously. No plot. No character arc. Just a relentless parade of linguistic failures. If you're looking for a story, you're in the wrong place. But if you want to feel superior about your own command of the English language for an hour? This is gold.
The Verdict
Look, is this going to change your life? No. It's not Middlemarch. It's not going to make you weep for the human condition (unless you weep for the future of literacy, which I do weekly).
I had a similar experience with French Self-Taught—short, educational in a quirky way, and oddly charming despite its limitations.
But it is a delightful, bite-sized piece of entertainment. Perfect for a commute where you don't want to get too invested in a complex plot, or—like me—when you need to remember that bad writing can actually be joyful.
TriciaG's clean, no-nonsense delivery saves it from being a gag reel and turns it into a curio cabinet of oddities. Who should listen: Anyone who loves words, anyone who hates words, or anyone who just needs a break from serious literature. Who should skip: If you need narrative momentum or character development, this isn't your book—it's a collection, not a story.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go back to grading. I think I just found another "Gatsbee."
