I like Chesterton a whole lot, and I bought this book during my last
Chesterton binge. That was some time ago, and it’s taken this long to
review only because I never finished it. And why did I never finish it?
Because it isn’t a very good book.

What it is, is an anthology of a few essays and many excerpts from longer
books, most of which I’d already read. The excerpts are
all good bits, but somehow they aren’t as compelling when plucked from
their proper setting. Each piece has an introduction by some guy named
William Griffin, with whom I have two quarrels: first, I dimly remember
that his introductions annoyed me, and second, he somehow managed to make
Chesterton boring. Perhaps I’d have felt differently if I hadn’t read
most of the material before; and perhaps this book would be a good
introduction to Chesterton for one not yet acquainted. I dunno. But I
didn’t like it.

On a whim I did a Google search on the
American Chesterton Society’s
web site; for what it’s worth, they make no mention of the book at all.