A book too mischievously multiform to classify. It is in part a history of the crossword puzzle ... The very genre of the crossword relies on the recognition that language is not merely an intellectual instrument but also a substance with material properties. Shechtman, a witty and crisp stylist, evidently relishes its sensuality. She is almost lovingly attuned to all its awkward oddities ... Shechtman is a constructor in the best sense of the word.
Shechtman has spent the better part of the past decade agitating for greater diversity among puzzle makers and for crosswords that reflect a more capacious sense of common knowledge, a project she expands upon and complicates in The Riddles of the Sphinx ... Shechtman places herself within a rich lineage of female cruciverbalists who helped pioneer the form.
Shechtman is delightful when sly... and she sees the implications in every bit of linguistic play ... Yet I found myself wishing that the book could crack into spontaneous joy. Paradoxically, where I do find some of that spontaneity is in arguably the most formally wound part: a crossword itself.
Freewheeling ... Shechtman also considers the fraught question of what makes a word "puzzle-worthy" and the impact of new software on the creation of puzzles.
The Riddles of the Sphinx resembles the best themed crosswords: paradoxical puzzles that are simultaneously rigid and relational, entertaining and educational ... Shechtman’s book is similarly well-crafted and tightly structured.
Rigorous yet fleet-footed ... Shechtman draws effortlessly on feminist theory and psychoanalysis to ultimately make the astute observation that both her eating disorder and her crossword-constructing habit stem from a need for control ... By turns incisive and roving, this teases out hidden connections and forgotten histories that will enthrall readers.
