The writer Jim Christy and the editors who worked on Rogues, Rascals, and Scalawags Too (Anvil) should be congratulated for their uncanny ability to squeeze every last euphemism out of their thesauri. If any evidence beyond the title is necessary, consider the synonyms that lard the book’s foreword: “the bizarre and the extraordinary,” “astonishing oddities,” “scoundrels,” “exotic personas,” “heroic adventurers,” “the odd, the absurd, and the quirky,” “those who exist in the margins,” “incorrigibles,” “rapscallions,” and my personal favourite, the slightly more accurate “thieving, bullshitting con artists who took the art of trickery to remarkable extremes.” It’s a richly assorted and euphonious vocabulary, reflecting the fascination that less incorrigible citizens have for those who prey upon them; the sheep’s fatal fascination for the wolf. It’s a bit of a conundrum: how to romanticize the actions of (and here I’ll throw in a few alternate terms) sociopaths, criminals and predators, without actually endorsing their behaviour. Rogues famous and obscure are here: from André Malraux to Bata Kindai Amgoza ibn LoBagola. Shelve this one in the Library of Roguery with its predecessor, Christy’s Scalawags: Rogues, Roustabouts, Wags & Scamps—Brazen Ne’er-Do-Wells Through the Ages (2008), and an all-time classic, the delightfully titled Gay Canadian Rogues (1958), “a rogues’ gallery of Canadian scalawags, nimble in the art of embezzling, swindling, spying and gold-digging, presented by Frank Rasky, Editor of Liberty, Canada’s largest monthly national magazine.”