1 comments about From Churchill's War Rooms: Letters of a Secretary 1943-45.

1. Do not buy this book if your motivation is to obtain the inside dope on how Winston Churchill's office operated in World War II.
   
   This is essentially a set of letters between two young people in love, but separated by war. Given security censorship in place at the time almost nothing of general or lasting importance is imparted in these letters, albeit one of the pair was a civilian secretary in London's famous Cabinet War Rooms. Even at that, the secretary, Olive Christopher, worked for General Hollis not Mr. Churchill.
   
   I think the book's title and dust jacket constitute a mild case of misbranding by the publisher.

No comments about Hindenburg: Icon of German Militarism (Military Profiles).

5 comments about The Highly Civilized Man: Richard Burton and the Victorian World.

1. One of the most remarkable men who ever lived was Captain Sir Richard Francis Burton. He was a poet, explorer, linguist, soldier, and translator, with remarkable accomplishments in each of these fields. The best biography of this astonishing and energetic man is still _The Devil Drives_ by Fawn Brodie, but in _The Highly Civilized Man: Richard Burton and the Victorian World_ (Harvard), Dane Kennedy has written something else. His book covers aspects of this multi-faceted man who was busy all his life making his own legend, but who is revealed here as "very much a man of his time, a product of nineteenth-century Britain and its imperial encounter with the world." Kennedy traces the sources of the intellect behind Burton's many efforts, even his famous physical feats such as his pilgrimage in disguise to Mecca or his role in finding the source of the Nile. Among other things, Burton was, as the chapter headings here classify him, an Orientalist, a relativist, a racist, and a sexologist, and Kennedy has taken a useful look at all these roles.
   
   The different chapters with their themes cover Burton's life in a more-or-less chronological way. Burton had a genius for languages and would eventually become fluent in perhaps a couple of dozen of them. His first foreign assignment was to the British East India Company, and although Burton sought glory in battle, his contribution was really to increase the knowledge of the land, the language, and the people. He took his capacity for imitation of other cultures to its most famous exercise in making the hajj in 1853. As Kennedy points out, there was no reason for any disguise; he could have simply have asserted his belief in Islam (a freethinker, he always did value the societal strengths of Islam, and he considered Christian missionaries to be on a misconceived quest) and joined the flood of foreigners in the pilgrimage. But this would not serve his purposes. A convert to Islam (no matter of what degree of sincerity, or how loosely attached to the Church of England) would be outcast from respectable society, preventing him from becoming a national hero and limiting sales of his great _Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to Al-Medinah and Meccah_. Burton's racism was a product of his time, and of his travels in Africa; he respected African cultures, even if he felt Negroes to be inferior and incapable of improvement. Kennedy makes the case that Burton had a relativist conception of culture, but such relativism did not encompass any struggle for improvement of political rights. Burton's value of other cultures included his view of their acceptance of sexuality, an acceptance he found lacking in his own country. Kennedy explains that with publication of his translations of the _Kama Sutra_, _The Perfumed Garden_, and especially _The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night_, Burton intended to subvert his nation's "purity forces." While Burton wrote that the _Nights_ was not fit for women to read, he filled it with strong and independent female characters who exhibited the sort of sexual desire women were supposed to keep hidden. Burton wanted to change British sexual morality, and his views would have grated against the current "just say no" philosophy. "Shall we ever understand," he sighed, "that ignorance is not innocence?"
   
   Kennedy makes the case that not only was Burton remarkable in the many aspects of his efforts, he was eager to "advance the larger epistemological quest to understand, explain, and classify difference." He thus informed Victorian debates on race, religion, and sexuality, debates that are continuing into our own contentious times. Burton is a compelling character, and these essays on different features of his career and interests are filled with important insights about him and about the times of which he was a product.



2. When I first discovered that a new Burton biography by a professor of history was soon to be published I had high expectations. Upon receipt of Professor Kennedy's Burton biography titled The Highly Civilized Man, I started digesting his work. The asserted themes of the work included 1) placing Burton and his work in context with the larger issues and challenges of Victorian times, and 2) using Burton to better understand the nature of changes beginning to percolate socially due to the interaction of Victorian England with its colonial enterprises. Indeed, as far as I know, this approach is pioneering and insightful. As I continued reading to about page 90, I thought Professor Kennedy's effort was well done, and the book would be another jewel to adorn the crown of Burton research, along with the work of Mary Lovell. I am of the opinion Professor Kennedy succeeded in achieving both this stated objectives. From this standpoint, his book is a success.
   
   The observations of Burton as a harbinger bridging the transition from the Victorian Era to the Modern Era reflect the type of insights one expects from a biographer trained in the rigors of academic scholarship. I enjoyed the in depth academic analysis of Burton from the standpoint of concepts of relativism as applied to notions of cultural difference. Professor Kennedy has also highlighted the role played by Burton in the early development of anthropology as an academic discipline. Social/Cultural Anthropology's primary research methodology is called participant/observation. Certainly, this approach was an inherent part of Burton's nature, and the scope of his anthropological observations were derived by this research approach. I was also glad to see that Professor Kennedy gave particular attention to discussing Burton's Stone Talk and his Kasidah. The earlier biographies did not devote much attention to either of these important works.
   
   As long as Kennedy stayed focused on academic based scholarship he avoided the pitfalls that plagued the earlier biographies that predated Lovell's Rage to Live. Unfortunately, the book digressed into complicated histories that are not fully recounted. Yet, Professor Kennedy felt compelled to make several definitive conclusions sorely lacking the professional level of scholarship a professor should be required to meet. The outcome of Kennedy's failures is a setback in Burton scholarship. Given the effort to place Burton in context, the irony is that the book with notable examples omits necessary context to understand and evaluate some of the Professor's conclusion. For example, the recounted history of Burton firing over the head of a crowd of Greek Orthodox Christians fails to acknowledge that Burton resorted to this solution after trying less violent alternatives, and after he and fellow members of his party were injured by rocks thrown at them. The key point is that Burton used a hierarchy of options to confront unstable situations. This point also relates to the absurd conclusion that Richard and Isabel were role-playing in the desert, and that there is a hidden psychology to uncover. The decision to have Isabel act as Richard's son was an attempt to protect her from rape and death, and to give Richard an option before resorting to lethal force. The Burtons took their personal safety serious as illustrated by their habit of carrying two revolvers and three Bowie knives when traveling.
   
   
   
   Professor Kennedy has a mildly obsessive theme about people Burton did not know going into the desert for homosexual interludes that randomly pops up in the book. He includes a discussion of Burton and several earlier biographers who speculated about Burton's sexuality. But Kennedy failed to note those writers assumed Richard and Isabel had a loveless and sexless marriage, and they used outmoded, almost now quaint, modes of Freudian analysis. The illusion of the Burton's loveless marriage was gutted by the original sources brought to light by Ms. Lovell. Professor Kennedy fails to point out the deficiencies of Brodie and Mclynn concerning their analysis of Burton and sexuality. The deficiencies in The Highly Civilized Man about the question of Burton's sexual interests are too numerous to address in a short review nor are the issues he raised concerning Damascus, Crowley and others. Kennedy's treatment of Burton in Damascus is a travesty. Not once does the professor inform the reader that all segments of society in Damascus worked to bring Burton back from his recall. The Damascus treatment is lacking in necessary detail and skewered to the degree that the discussion should have been deleted form the book. It is also one of the examples where Kennedy included information that is extraneous to accomplishing his two professed themes.
   
   The book appears to have been written with segments produced using an academic analysis methodology with other portions written in an almost stream of consciousness with points lacking critical evaluation. Moreover, there are instances of contradiction. This leads one to conclude the work was not scrutinized properly before going to press. The Kasidah analysis includes a conclusion that Burton believed there is no God or afterlife, yet in the chapter titled the Afterlife, Kennedy indicates Burton may have concluded there is continuing life. In fact, towards the end of the Kasidah and towards the end of note 2, Burton makes it plain he has a positive view on a continuing future life. It is not a life however with the attributes of anyone's religious acculturation. The chapter on the afterlife in large part is one of the commendable aspects of this biography.
   
   All of the hallmarks of a work that will withstand the centuries are present in this work if only the good professor would later reissue it, and correct the many deficiencies and expand the themes of Burton as harbinger, Burton as catalyst, Burton as a pioneering mystic and Burton as scribe in the manner of Thoth, the Ancient Egyptian principle of wisdom.



3. A thoughtful book which most of the time attaches its arguments firmly to sources, scrupulously researched. A little verbose at times, tending to fall prey to the current academic fashion of attaching a superfluity of labels (particularly those ending in -ist) to its subject. Certainly there's the intention to 'de-mythologize' Burton and expose him to some quite valid criticisms, as well as plaudits. Kennedy reminds us that J.L. Burckhardt, not Burton, was the first European to travel on the Hajj in disguise. He suggests that in Burton's day, such disguise would only really have been necessary to enter the holiest places; simply because Burton could have professed conversion to Islam. I'm uncomfortable on those occasions when Kennedy states speculation as fact, for example (p63): 'Burton saw an opportunity to tap into this rich vein of curiosity by undertaking the pilgrimage to Mecca and exposing the city and its Muslim faithful to the scrutiny of his Christian Countrymen'. And then, later: "It must be understood, however, that Burton's decision to undertake a hajj in an "Oriental" disguise was directed as much at a British audience as it was at the Muslims with whom he associated during the journey." Although the facts are suggestive that this may be true, no proof is given - that would be very hard to do.
   
   Kennedy concludes (p92) "There is little doubt that Burton too was attracted to impersonation precisely because it provided a way of transgressing against the codes and conventions that governed society, challenging the psychic shackles imposed by civilization." This conclusion could be a little superficial: we might also add that his daily dress of grotesque beard; eyes sometimes ringed with kohl; the brandishing of iron cane, pistol or navaja and his frequent adoption of a truly wicked and fearsome persona ("to shock"), could well have been a part of the same charade - whose ultimate purpose was to divert attention away from self. Did Burton suffer from some profound insecurity and a distaste for who he really was? Was he truly the "Sheep in wolf's clothing" that W.S. Blunt claims? The book had perhaps an opportunity to take this further.
   
   The point is raised that, far from hacking their way through virgin African forest - unexplored territory - as is the general impression (my own, anyway), Burton and Speke took advantage of well-trodden arteries which had been used for slave and ivory traffic by Arab traders for generations - affording themselves of the supply infrastructure and information sources already in place to tend these parties. Wielding what must surely be humour, Kennedy observes that Burton was faced with insurmountable difficulties in the use of disguise on his African expeditions.
   
   The subject of race and Burton's undeniable racism threads its way unceasingly through this book. Kennedy uses the word `troubling' numerous times when confronting it. He employs an early 21st century scrutiny to pass clear judgment on a latter 19th century culture - perhaps unconsciously setting relativism aside.
   
   In 1633, Galileo Galilei was forced to abjure and recant his prior assertion of "...having held and believed that the sun is the center of the world and immovable, and that the earth is not the center and moves." Although we are dumbfounded by this today, we shouldn't be. There are dogmas in place in 2006 which no historian or anthropologist dares to contradict - on pain of professional suicide and even jail in a few countries. These dogmas touch upon versions of history enforced by law and statements upon the subject of race that are officially held to be modern heresies. Thus when judging Burton by the measures of our day with regard to racial matters and, then, reversing the scrutiny and weighing this book's criticisms by my own unfashionable standards; I, as a reader, am forced to conclude that neither one of them has the right of it. I am hit on the nose by the consequences of relativism!
   
   Burton had good and bad to say about everybody - and an awful lot of the bad is directed at white Victorian society (which is nowhere labeled `racism'). The scientist in Burton (and he was a very good one I think) brought out his objectivity; the human being railed mightily and emotionally against slights, insults and injustices; some the consequence of his own misguided actions; some dead on target. I think Kennedy walks into the pitfall of early 21st century political correctness: time and again he is so troubled by negative remarks made concerning a particular race, yet seems to accept those that are positive without demur. In true critique, must we not take exception to all such generalizations? Burton made `hurtful' observations on colour and physiognomy which, I predict, in future times, will be done in the painless language of DNA base-pairs.
   
   Certainly Kennedy cites instances where Burton takes relativistic stands, such as (p155): "There is more of equality between the savage and the civilizee - the difference being one of quantity, not of quality - than the latter will admit. For every man is everywhere commensurate with man". Kennedy then asks "How can these remarks be reconciled with Burton's insistence on the innate inferiority of the African?" Having raised the idea that the contradictions could be ascribed to "an undisciplined and volatile mind", Kennedy points out that such a conclusion would cause us to:
   
   "... miss what may have been Burton's most intriguing contribution to Victorian conception of race. His understanding of race as a closed space defined by difference serves a double purpose: it supports the standard racists' contention that biology is destiny, but it also ventures the view that races have their own systems of beliefs and behaviour, each incommensurate with the other and implicitly standing against a universalist standard of values."
   
   Doesn't that take rather a lot of words to say (without any of the promised reconciliation) that Burton was inconsistent: giving the Victorians a fresh new viewpoint on race while at the same time reinforcing their old prejudices?
   
   The chapter entitled "The Sexologist" thoroughly covers a lot of well-trodden ground; over-trodden one might say. On homosexuality, Kennedy is of the opinion that Burton had probably actually indulged and cites a rather telling letter of Swinburn's in support, yet, knowing this was rather likely (even close to certain), so what? What more can be written about Burton? The answer is evident here: very little. This, by the way, is not a criticism of the book.
   
   The final chapter "The Afterlife" is for me one of the more interesting. Kennedy speculates on Burton's spiritual beliefs and brings out his agnosticism as well as his horror of annihilation at death. In "A Glance at the Passion Play" (I quote the full context which Kennedy doesn't), Burton says (p165), on Spiritualism, " it satisfies a real want, a crave which is to millions - a part only of our kind but numbering millions - the bread of moral life." He then offers a `Spiritualist's Decalogue' of which Kennedy quotes article VI "Death, physically considered, dissolves a certain organic unity; it is not, however, annihilation, but change."
   
   This was an astute selection by Kennedy and brings us closer to an understanding of Burton's spirituality.



4. Nineteenth century Western colonialism and imperialism including the Industrial revolution changed Western values and social perceptions and mores, but more so, our awareness of the world as a whole, in terms of defining ourselves against difference. The Victorian influence towards modernism is far greater than historians first realized. One of the most romantic and pivotal figures of the Victorian age was Sir Captain Richard Burton. In Kennedy's critical biographical overview of the man's life and thought, unlike most of the numerous biographies to date, attempts to represent and reinterpret Burton's life and thought in the context of the Victorian era. By doing this, he proposes, we come to understand this highly complex genius in terms of the historical values of the time.
   
   Kennedy outlines Burton's numerous accomplishments as a prolific writer, linguist, (twenty-five languages and many dialects) explorer, archaeologist, spy, amateur physician, translator, artist, poet, expert swordsman and sexologist. He wrote over twenty-five travel volumes containing his many adventures, and translated the Kumar Sutra and The Arabian Nights which is the most often read an quoted in present time. Similar to many of his contemporaries, his studies of Orientalism and African cultures were done in the spirit of difference, or the `other'. Kennedy's thesis is that Burton was a product of the Victorian age but an important precursor to modernism.
   
   As the 19th century has a virtual endless list of incredible men and women, according to Kennedy, what set Burton apart, was "...restless determination to extend the reach of his experience to ever more pockets of humanity and to draw insights from those increasingly varied encounters in order to advance the larger epistemological quest to understand, explain, and classify difference." (p.270) Burton's vast written work, his copious notes and observations reveals this holy quest, his unwavering pursuit of hidden knowledge and knowledge of the `other', strange cultures and bizarre religions until his death in 1895.
   
   The author devotes most of his analysis on Burton's works as a sexologist. Burton's many erotic translations, promoting his notion that Victorian repression of sexual matters and desire is tremendously unhealthy, paved the way for future sexologists to study the subject within a scientific framework. His controversial translations and writings also revealed a sexual hypocrisy that the Victorian age is infamously known for. Rather than study sex on moral grounds, Burton proposed a relativist position, attributing different climates around the world to certain sexual behaviours. We know this to be nonsense, however, including this premise, Burton achieved distance from the moral position, giving his subject a form of objectivity.
   
   Dane Kennedy's approach to Burton is a fresh perspective of the man. He was an individual that accomplished more in one lifetime than many, but he was a man of his times, attempting to define the identity of western culture during a period of vast change. Despite over one hundred years since his death, even a critical appraisal of his life and work, does not in any way lessen his accomplishment nor profound influence in the Romantic age towards modernism.
   
   A Highly Civilized man is a fresh and well-written account of an icon of the Romantic-Victorian age.



5. A critical study of Sir Richard Burton. Most of his biographers, bowldered by the epic nature of their subject (understandably so, this is one remarkable guy), often smooth over some real contradictions in his thought, less than favorable interpretations, etc.. This author brings Richard under real scrutiny, examining his views on religion, sex, race, and his persona as a "explorer" or "impersonator"; Not much new info; just bringing to light what is usually in the background of most biographies. Perhaps a finer portrait emerges of the man- though its undeniable that some of his statements- esp about race were wildly contradicting. He tries to demonstrate how Victorian attitudes influenced who Burton was- which is obvious in a way, he knew what his countrymen would find shocking and played on it- thus building his persona as a man who flaunted social conventions, though of course in other respects- sexuality, his Stone Talk work- he didn't cater to anyone, - one thing I couldn't help noticing, and which Kennedy points out, though a compulsive, prolific author, and highly opinionated, Burton was not a particularly good writer.

1 comments about Colin Farrell: Living Dangerously.

1. Jane Kelly attempts to pad her book with long drawn out explanations of the plot of every film Farrell has done. Page after page of plot and character descriptions that have little to do with the subject at hand. At other times she pads this book with long winded descriptions of some of the characters to enter in to Farrell's life. Do we need to read three pages about a soapopera star he had a two week affair with?Then there are the times she plays arm chair psychologist disecting farrell's childhood and relations with women with the insight of someone who has just completed their first week of psych 101. To top it all off there are glaring mistakes, most notably a caption reads "Colin is worried about his hair on the David Letterman show in 1993", yet it is Jay leno sitting at the desk in the picture. There are several misquotes that distort Farrell's intentions. This is a piss poor attempt even for a tabloid level biography. Save your money and read about the guy on the web if you are really that curious. All the quotes from him are from old interviews anyway.

3 comments about News of Paris: American Journalists in the City of Light Between the Wars.

1. Writers, artists and journalists all went to Paris after World War I with the dreams of becoming writers: Paris offered a big advantage in providing jobs which enabled them to make the most of the city, and after the war American news activity shifted from London to Paris. NEWS OF PARIS: AMERICAN JOURNALISTS IN THE CITY OF LIGHT BETWEEN THE WARS provides a focus on this heyday when the city was lauded as the 'centre of American journalism in Europe'. Chapters survey the colorful world of this expatriate period and uses the lives of major literary figures and newspapers to reveal the drama and hopes of the times.
   
   Diane C. Donovan, Editor
   California Bookwatch



2. Aimed at readers with an acute interest in U.S. journalists, papers and magazines in Paris between the great wars I and II. Paris itself is just a pale backdrop to the main story.
   
   I found the book choppy in presentation, with but an average writing style.
   
   Like the history of any given narrow enterprise or discrete period, it will be great fun for those who were there or, as more likely here given the passage of time, their descendents. For most general readers of today, there is not much related in this book that will be of lasting interest.



3. I have read over 80 books about Paris in the last year (can you spell "obsession?"). Some were riviting (Luncheon of the Boat Party). Some were silly (Paris Hangover). Some were a hard read (France: A History). None of them were boring. Until now. This was an indescribably minute and rambling remembrance of every American journalist that was in Paris during the Fabulous Twenties, the time of the Lost Generation, debauchery, and fine writing. I had hoped to read something as illuminating as Malcom Crowley's "Exile's Return." Instead I read a phone book listing of journalists, with a few tidbits along the way. I couldn't even finish it. I'm sorry I bought it. The other seventy-nine were so much better.

3 comments about The Island of the White Cow.

1. In this book, Deborah Tall describes life on Inishbofind, 'Island of the White Cow', a remote island off the coast of western Ireland. An American herself, she meets an Irish writer who gives a lecture at her university. They fall in love and she follows him to the island, far away from the distractions of bustling city life, where they both try to make a living as writers. She describes her stay as if it were one year, divided into four seasons. In actuality, Deborah Tall lived on the island for five years.

   I loved this book. Having lived in Ireland for a number of years, this made for a great read. The descriptions of the beauty and harsh life on this barren island, always open to the western winds, were very recognisable. Life feels different on these small islands. Even though it is only a few miles to the mainland, it seems infinitely far removed, and people don't even consider themselves part of Ireland. Life on the island is like living in the past. Inishbofind does not have a doctor. It has no dentist (one comes over periodically to pull teeth - nothing fancy like plaque removal here). There is no secondary education. It has only one telephone. There is no running water.
   What it does have is charm, some very interesting people and, above all, quiet.

   The islanders are much like the island itself: rugged on one hand, charming on the other. They are always up for a story, always good for a song, always in for a drink, always ready for a new audience. As the book goes on, and once Deborah Tall and 'Owen' are more accepted by the locals, one gets glimpses of the real emotions of the people on Inishbofind, an island slowly losing more and more people - mostly young ones - to the main land.
   On one hand, people are helpful, friendly and interested in the new arrivals. On the other hand, there is bitterness, resignation, resentfulness, frustration, desperation and jealousy. And always, there is pride.

   This book describes life as it really is on an island - not a tourist experience. If you are looking for a book on how wonderful everything about Ireland is, you may want to read a travel guide. If you are looking to read about Ireland, this is definitely a good choice.




2. This memoir describes the time period from 1972 to 1977. It is both a book about Ireland, and a book about college-educated Americans. As a book about Ireland, it is a beautifully written memoir of five years on the small island of Inishbofin. We learn much about the islanders and their hopes and frustrations. Although the book talks much about their struggles with isolation, drink, joblessness, family troubles and jealousies, the overall effect is more uplifting than depressing.
   
   The book is also a record of the way that young, educated Americans encountered the world in the sixties and seventies -- through travel, study, the Peace Corps and many other ways. In the wake of the Sixties, many were seeking new ideas for living and new models of community relations. Some, such as Deborah Tall, hoped to find inspiration for art or writing in their pilgrimages to remote and isolated places. At the time, the far corners of Europe were still quite primitive, and part of Deborah Tall's experience was coping without electricity and running water. Now, of course, Inishbofin has telephones and websites and one would have to go much further afield for as exotic a cultural experience.
   
   The writing in the book is very finely crafted, and its words are carefully chosen. Occasionally the author's prose becomes slightly mannered, but overall she is a pleasure to read and the book merits a continued audience.



3. Deborah Tall, professor of English and Comparative Literature, died on October 19 at age 55 after two years of resisting inflammatory breast cancer, a rare, aggressive form of the disease. She had lived in Ithaca, N.Y., since 1990 with her husband of 27 years, David Weiss, and their daughters, Zoe and Clea Weiss.
   
   Since 1982, Tall taught at Hobart and William Smith where she was named The John Milton Potter Professor of Humanities and won the 2001 Faculty Scholarship Award, as well as numerous faculty research grants. She was editor of the literary journal Seneca Review.
   
   "Deborah was deeply admired throughout our community and far beyond," said President Mark D. Gearan. "She inspired us with her original talent as a writer and her dedication to literature, teaching, her family and her friends. Those close to her will be able to share their memories in a public celebration of her life to be held on campus this fall."
   
   Both a poet and nonfiction writer, she was published widely and gave readings and talks around the world. Her books include Summons, which was selected by Charles Simic for the Katherine A. Morton Poetry Prize in 1999; The Island of the White Cow; From Where We Stand: Recovering a Sense of Place; and The Poet's Notebook, which she co-edited with Hobart alumnus Stephen Kuusisto and Hobart and William Smith Professor of English David Weiss. A memoir, A Family of Strangers, has just come out this fall from Sarabande Books.
   
   Born in Washington, D.C., she grew up in the Philadelphia area and spent five formative years on Inishbofin, off the west coast of Ireland. She earned a B.S. in English from the University of Michigan and an M.F.A. in creative writing from Goddard College.

No comments about Elizabeth: 80 Glorious Years.

1 comments about Enrico Dandolo and the Rise of Venice.

1. While Madden's history of one of the most significant Doge's in Venice is interesting, it lacks a certain something. The first half barely touches on Enrico Dandolo, instead focusing on his father and the actions of Michiel and Ziani. While the most interesting event in Dandolo's life (the Fourth Crusade) is covered in detail, anyone seeking a full picture of Dandolo's life will be disappointed.
   
   Still, this is well-written and an incredibly interesting read, and I recommend it to anyone who would like to know more about the man behind the Fourth Crusade.

1 comments about Happiness of Getting It Down Right, The: Letters of Frank O'Connor and William Maxwell, 1945-1966.

1. This isn't a thick book, because there just aren't that many letters between Maxwell and O'Connor. I only picked it up because, after reading a few of O'Connor's short stories, I immediately decided that I needed to read every word that was ever written by or about this man. Except for one lousy biography, I didn't regret the time at all.

   But this, honestly, isn't a great collection. The letters start out rather dry, and even as they get more affectionate, you still don't feel like there's any meat there. They discuss their families, and how much they like them, and how badly they want to see each other - but regarding their opinions on anything else, or an idea of how they went about writing their works, one gets very little: a lot of frustration about writer's block and some comments that are only useful if you're already familiar with Maxwell's novels (I've only read So Long See You Tomorrow, which isn't mentioned in this book) and O'Connor's later New Yorker stories. And - except for The Ugly Duckling, a story that Maxwell inexplicably didn't like - most of O'Connor best work did not come in this period. The most moving part of the correspondence, actually, comes when his creativity starts to dry up - and anyone that has read his Collected Stories can feel his genius exhausting itself towards the end.

   A lot of it, too, just reads like little notes passed between friends - I imagine they saved their weightier ideas for when they could see each other, or could have long conversations on the phone. None of them have the literary feel that Chekhov's letters do - those are works of art, as letters often were when it was hard to see people face to face or just pick up the phone. The letters are often just summaries of events - this story is going well, this one not so well, the kids are fine - that were updates between friends: they're not interesting for an outsider, unless you're curious whether the family lives of happily married writers are as ordinary as ours (yes, they are - all happy families do indeed ressemble each other).

   The part of this book still sharp in my memory is the remembrance that Maxwell wrote of O'Connor after he died. It's just a few pages, but the weight of years of affection and respect are there. A beautiful piece of writing. And one meant to be read - which is more than I can say, I'm afraid, for the letters. Spend your time on their books: you'll get a better sense of what their lives were about.

2 comments about Saint Brendan And The Voyage Before Columbus.

1. A beautifully illustrated book, Dr. McGrew did a wonderful job telling the story of St. Brendan in a way that is thorough, yet succinct. It is a book that both parent and child can enjoy.



2. 
   Many parents want to teach their children the importance of identifying and pursuing their dreams and the value of a strong faith in God. In the new book Saint Brendan and the Voyage Before Columbus (Paulist Press, December 2004, paperback, 32 pages) author Dr. Mike McGrew and illustrator Marnie Saenz Litz share the story of St. Brendan and his legendary voyage to North America.
   
   Through lyrical prose and vivid illustrations, this book recounts the life history of Saint Brendan, the Irish monk who spread the message of Jesus Christ in his own land of Ireland and, legend states, beyond to the land of Tir-na-n-Og and to its native "painted saints", a thousand years before Columbus set sail for North America. Whether fact or fiction, Brendan's voyage has sparked the enthusiasm and adventurous spirit of many, including sailors who count him as their patron saint.
   
   The great value in providing children with the images of concrete role models is that it helps them see that they too can capture their dreams. McGrew shares Saint Brendan's story with zeal and energy, stressing the saint's reliance on God's protection and his appreciation for God's hand in the nature surrounding him and in his brother monks. Children who might not sit still for a dry recitation of the facts of a saint's life will be drawn in and inspired by this book and its message to trust in God and pursue your dreams. Aimed at children ages four through eight, the book will also be enjoyed by older adventurers and those interested in the lives of the saints.