I recently purchased a book for Oskar, my seven-year-old, called “The Dangerous Book for Boys.” A bestseller, the book was written by Scottish brothers Conn and Hal Iggulden, and it is a nostalgic ode to childhoods of yore, where outdoor activities, mystery, historical lore and danger all came together to fill a boy’s life with romantic “danger.”

The book arrived and we were all captivated at once by its very appearance. Hardbound in deep red, the old-fashioned cover script was arresting and sensational all at once. One look at the book and you just knew you’d uncovered the long lost secret to a boy’s exciting childhood.

Sadly, the book itself is far less exciting than its typeface and its compelling promotional back story suggest (two brothers, tired of the lazy video generation, urge parents to harken back to a simpler time, etc., etc.). In fact, much of the content is downright bizarre, dangerous only in its potential for boring any normal boy. For example, there are sections on grammar; Shakespeare; the rules of soccer and rugby; how to wrap a package in brown paper and string; word origins; poems every boy should know (Ozymandias, Invictus and Vitae Lampada, to name three); how to grind an Italian nib for a fountain pen; Latin phrases; and more. The most interesting, and possibly most dangerous, section is the one titled, simply, “Girls.” In it, the authors advise, quite rightly, not to be vulgar. They also say that flowers really do work and that listening is a great skill to employ when around a girl. Very astute and practical advice, I must say. And though it was completely lost on Oskar, I believe an older boy (or, my husband, for that matter) could learn quite a bit from that section.

In truth, I enjoyed the book immensely. It is filled with some fun and terrific sections, like how to make secret ink, tree houses, go carts, and perfect paper airplanes. There are lessons on juggling, playing poker, tying nautical knots, stargazing and marbles. There are the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, primers on dinosaurs, spiders and bugs, as well as lessons on pirates, navigation and recognizing common trees. It is also chock full of great stories of adventurers, explorers, inventors and historical figures, from Julius Caesar to the Wright Brothers to Robert the Bruce. Military campaigns are featured prominently as well, including Thermopylae, Waterloo, Gettysburg and others.

There is an entire chapter on “The Brief History of Artillery,” and a how-to guide to build your own trebuchet, or French catapult. Dave and Oskar built one and I have to say, it is extremely dangerous. They’ve been launching my croquette balls into the cornfield all week. So if anyone comes over expecting to play croquette, you’ll know where all the balls are. I’ve hidden the cats, lest they try to launch one into the field as well.

On balance, the book isn’t really dangerous (except for the trebuchet), but it is a fantastic resource nonetheless. Clearly, the authors meant the “dangerous” bit tongue in cheek, as if to say, “Let’s turn off the TV, the PlayStation, and the cell phones and actually go outside or put our nose in a book. Let’s do things and learn stuff!” They mean that reading and writing, knowing history and languages, geography and games, even poetry, is what all boys (from “eight to eighty” they say) should be concerning themselves with, or at the very least be doing more of. The authors admit that they didn’t do or know any of these things as boys and they lament that a book like this wasn’t available when they were growing up. Essentially, they are nostalgic for a childhood they didn’t have (and possibly never existed), but they want our boys to have it, before they get sucked into e-life and MySpace for good.

I think Oskar is too young to appreciate much of the book at this point, but I plan to keep it around and read from it as he gets a bit older, so he knows that there is a lot more to life than just SpongeBob and computer games. And I’ll highlight the part about girls.

Stephanie Abbajay is a columnist for the Jersey County Journal.