This was a great guide to the Arizona scenic highways. there were alot of choices and depending on which part of Arizona you were traveling, this book gives you a less "touristic" option. I myself did the Apache trail. This book gave an accurate description on how "hazardous" this trip would be. I wish I would've paid more attention to the recommended time for travel. As usual, I assumed I could travel "faster" and missed some sights by minutes. Anyway, I highly recommend this book. Wish they would come up with others. Arizona is a beautiful state and has plenty to offer in rgs to scenic highways.

The book had lots of good information but was hard for me to wade through. It's a series of college papers on the subject of gender and two-spirit people. I think the second half was most helpful (the stories of several two-spirits). Like I said, there was lots of info, it was just a little hard to follow.

Union Pacific Cheyenne West- Part 1 is a photographic tour along the Union Pacific Railroad in Wyoming and Utah. Wesley Fox is an excellant black and white photographer who has captured the Union Pacific railroad in the harsh country of Wyoming. His sharp photography takes you up close and you can almost feel the trains roaring by. If you love the golden age of steam, then the last chapter will bring back great memories as Fox photographs the Union Pacific's remaining steam locomotives in passenger service. If you like the Union Pacific Railroad and appreciate sharp and well printed black and white photographs, then this a book for you. Part 2, which will cover the Union Pacific west of Ogden, UT to Los Angeles, Oakland and Portland should be available soon.

John Kent is best known for his study of nineteenth-century British revivalism, HOLDING THE FORT. In this elegant, concise study, he takes on the historiography of the late eighteenth century's so-called evangelical awakening. Kent's argument, put simply, is, first, that if the Methodists hadn't seized the day, some other group would; and second, that most of the awakening's effects have been greatly exaggerated. For Kent, Methodism represents an attempt to generate an immediate and emotional spiritual experience, the desire for which lies at the heart of all religions. Methodism's success lay in its ability to produce exactly the kind of experience desired, and not in its theological details. Indeed, Kent is sympathetic to those Anglicans who critiqued Methodism, suggesting that far from being conservative bigots, they often had a point. Kent's attitude to Wesley himself is respectful but hardly hagiographical. Other historians of English religion and politics don't always fare so well; most notably, Kent delivers several brisk slaps to Jonathan Clark, as well as to an unnamed Eamon Duffy, with the strangely cheerful acidity so unique to English academic prose.

The argument's brevity will no doubt raise more questions than it purports to answer. The proofreading could, perhaps, have used a bit more work; I suspect that the historian G. J. Barker-Benfield will be somewhat startled to discover his transformation from male to female. Overall, however, this is an engagingly pugnacious historical outing, of interest to all specialists in the history of evangelicalism, Methodism, and the Church of England.

Wesley's "Collection of Hymns for the Use of the People Called Methodists" is easily one of the greatest hymn books of all time. Along with the King James Bible and the Book of Common Prayer, it is one of the glories of the English-speaking church. A simple glance at the table of contents shows the sensitivity which went into the hymn book, as the section titles present a virtual spiritual biography: it begins with hymns "Exhorting Sinners to Return to God", then describes the "Pleasantness of Religion", and its corollary, the four last things (death, judgment, hell heaven), then hymns of repentence and "for mourners convinced of sin", as well as hymns for backsliders. Finally, we come to hymns for believers, in their various struggles and joys: fighting, praying, watching, working, suffering, seeking full redemption, saved, and at last, interceding for the world. Although not included in the first edition, modern editions carry an additional "supplement" of psalms and hymns of praise. The hymns themselves include some of the best-loved hymns of the church, from hymn 1, "O for a thousand tongues to sing / My great redeemer's praise" to "Hark the herald angels sing", "Love divine, all loves excelling", and "When I survey the wondrous cross". But it also includes a number of gems that haven't made it into many modern hymn books. A few random examples: "Extended on a cursed tree / Besmeared with dust and sweat and blood / See there, the king of glory see / Sinks and expires the Son of God" (hymn 23), "Shepherd of souls, with pitying eyes / The thousands of our Israel see / To Thee in their behalf we cry / Ourselves but newly found in thee" (hymn 82), "O that I could revere / My much-offended God! / O that I could but stand in fear / Of thy afflicting rod! / If mercy cannot draw, / Thou by thy threatenings move, / And keep an abject soul in awe, / That will not yield to love" (hymn 103). Nearly every one of the 1026 hymns in the collection has something to offer, and taken in their order, they form a full body of practical divinity. The only problem I have with the book is its sometimes militant Arminianism, but Calvinists have never had problems using most of the hymns (sometimes with minor changes). Franz Hildebrandt's edition is a scholarly edition, not suited for the pew, but a valuable work for anyone wishing to study these hymns. It includes sidenotes indicating scriptural, patristic, and literary allusions in the hymns, and has an illuminating introduction. Unfortunately, the book is text-only, and doesn't include any of the great tunes in the Handel tradition which complement these hymns so well.

Well, if it's summer time, that must mean Pocket Books is once again ready to foist another Trek crossover, multi-book Trek series upon us. Last year's New Earth was good at first, sagged in the middle only to be redeemed in the end. This year, the Section 31 set kicks off with a series of novels examining the secret organization and its affect on the four shows. On paper it sounds interesting and like it has some real potential.

First off (from what I've read you can read these in any order without really losing anything), there is the Voyager novel. The plot features a pretty standard civilization in danger and only Voyager can save them plot coupled with an attempt by Section 31 to do off with Seven of Nine. The main plot of the civlization in peril is a bit of a yawn at times--there are some nice characters but overall the dramatic thrust never materializes enough to be interesting--especially when it descends into cliches of the aliens not trusting Voyager and taking hostages. The more interesting plot is just why Section 31 considers Seven of Nine a threat and is out to irradicate her. It's interesting to read that the organization can reach out as far as the Delta Quadrant and how it does is interesting. However, the investigation into who is attacking Seven goes on a bit too long and some of the regular characters make unintelligent choices for the sake of prolonging the suspense of who is attacking Seven and why. Also, Sevens' characterization is bit off--she seems a bit too arrogant and unlikeable. She has these qualities in the show, but she becomes a two-dimensional character at times in this storyline. Of course, the two plots intersect each other at certain points in the book. To give away any details might take away some of the surprise, so I won't do that.

All in all, this book has potential, not all of it realized. I think the TNG and DS9 books have the most potential in the series. VOY suffers from the same things the show does--being cut off from the Alpha Quadrant means there's little or not consequences to the story or any type of meaningful follow up to the actions and events shown here.

Shadow is the fourth installment in the 'Section 31' Star Trek book series. This book involves the crew of the starship Voyager. You may wonder how Section 31, the covert 'self-appointed protectors of the Federation', can possibly reach its claws to a starship on the other side of the galaxy? That, of course, is part of the mystery.
What begins as a leisurely stop to observe a unique astronomical phenomenon - the colliding of two stars - soon turns deadly. A series of freak accidents finds captain Janeway concluding that someone on her ship is trying to kill Seven of Nine.
This leads to some fine character studies of Voyager personnel. The former Borg drone, Seven, struggles for survival knowing at every turn she could fall victim to another assassination attempt. Tuvok, the Vulcan security officer, races with time to unmask the killer - a killer with an intellect to match his own.
And to all this add the plight of a pre-warp culture trying to escape a doomed solar system in a giant space ship carrying the last survivors of a planet that no longer exists.

This ST-Voyager book involves Section 31 a secret organization within Starfleet itself, covert and mysterious guardians of the Federation. Seven of Nine finds a series of accidents and mishaps plaguing her and Captain Janeway makes the connection that there maybe a plot afoot to kill Seven of Nine.

This book has really good character interaction between Seven and Janeway, also Seven and Torres. We see good charater fleshing out in this book. As the book starts, I found that watching paint dry could happen before the real meat of the book comes to fruition. But the pace of the book picks up and comes to full stride toward the ending.

The Voyager crew comes to the aid of a civilization fleeing their world due to a binary star system colision and won't make it clear when the disaster occurs. As this sub-plot evolves the main plot becomes more involved and lethal.

All in all, this is a good book and once you get to reading it, you'll be fascinated by the intrigue.

NO LAW, NO CONSCIENCE, NO STOPPING THEM

This is intriguing reading with a mystery and is written with a tegumentary style.

I enjoyed this book very much. The morals and lessons it teaches you are very important. It is the story of a lonely man, who because he was falsely accused of stealing and because this cost him all his relationships with people, he secluded himself in his lonely house along with all his gold that he saved up. He never spent his money because he enjoyed its company. His gold was his only companion for several years of his life. Then one day, he was robbed, and he no longer had anything worth living for.
Silas was slowly dying of misery and depression. He had no reason to live. Then one day a little girl walked into his house and into his life. Her mother died, leaving the baby girl as an orphan. So, Silas adopted her and took her into his home. She grew up a poor, hard-working girl who loved her new father Silas and vice-versa. Because of this new daughter of his, Silas changed for the better. He became more caring and devoted to someone else besides himself. He started to go to church again and changed his views on what really was important in life. And one day when his treasure was found and returned to him, he didn't even care for it. He had something even more precious than gold: someone to love and receive love from.

I first read Silas Marner when I was 18 years old, and loved every word. I started reading it again immediately after finishing it! As said in other reviews, perhaps 9th grade is indeed too early because at that age, this older language style is difficult to "get into" quickly enough to hold their interest. I found myself wrapped in this little town with its odd characters and gossip, and wished I'd lived there. The imagery is so strong and sweet I still refer to the scenery evoked by this novel when I read completely unrelated historical articles! The story itself cannot be called remarkable because it is one of the basic stories about humanity and what matters in life. Yet George Eliot surpasses all others in the telling of it. There is a reason this book is on all the reading lists -- it is a great achievement.

This is the uplifting story of Silas Marner, a 19th century English working man, who seems to be greatly wronged repeatedly by people in his community. As an elegible young man, a rival framed him out of greed as well as envy, leaving Marner wrongly accused of theft, upon which he relocates in a different locality. For some 15 years, Marner lives like a hermit, hording the money he earns as a weaver. Said to be "in with the wicked one", possessing strange magic, town folk avoid contact with the mysterious man. -- Suddenly, in short succesion, two events change the life of Master Marner forever, even restoring his faith in a Supreme Being and the good in his fellow man.

Without reveiling the surprises held by this wonderful story, I can highly recommend this book to readers of teen age and above. Written in a very high English, the writing style is that of an educated master of the language, uncommon to be written or spoken in this manner for some 100 years. Less difficult than Shakespeare, still challenging to a young person unfamiliar with countless terms and expressions that seem to be very dated.

As a teacher partial to language arts studies, I am very impressed by this book. I would recommend it for classroom use at the junior high school level or above. A masterpiece!*****

Set in upstate New York in colonial times, Cooper here tells the tale of the stolid colonial scout Hawkeye, nee Natty Bumppo (don't ask), who, with his two Indian companions Chingachgook (the Big Snake) and his son Uncas (apparently newly come to manhood), stumble on a party of British soldiers conducting two fair maidens to their father, the commander of British Fort William Henry during the French and Indian War. Under the watchful eyes of the young British officer who has the girls in his charge and led by a Huron scout, Magua, the party appears, to the indomitable Hawkeye, to be at greater risk than they realize as they trek through the wilderness toward the safety of the girls' father's garrison. And, indeed, Hawkeye's judgement is soon proved right as the scout Magua treacherously betrays the hapless girls in repayment, it seems, for a stint of corporal punishment inflicted on him previously by their absent parent. Since the Hurons, Magua's native tribe, are culturally akin to the Iroquois who are the herditary enemies of the Algonquin Delawares, from whom Chingachgook and his son hail and among whom Hawkeye has made his home and friendships, a natural antagonism arises almost at once between Hawkeye's party and the Huron and this proves salutary, when danger finally strikes. The tale quickly becomes a matter of flight and pursuit through thickly overgrown primeval forests, over rough mountains and across broad open lakes as the beleagured travelers first elude and then flee the dreaded Iroquois (allies of the French) who have joined the renegade Huron in an effort to seize the two girls. After a brief respite within the safety of William Henry however, the tables are once again turned as Magua's perfidy puts the girls once more at risk. And now the story shifts to a manic pursuit of the fleeing Magua who means to carry off his human prey in order to finally have his revenge on the girls' father, on the British and on the Europeans, generally, whose presence in his native country he blames (not altogether unjustifiably) for his myriad travails. Written in the fine tradition of the 19th century romance (which, of course, is what this book is), Cooper picked up where Sir Walter Scott (the venerable founder of this novelistic tradition) left off, creating a rich historical tale of adventure, nobility and marvelously sketched characters set against a brilliantly detailed natural landscape. If his characters are less keenly drawn than Scott's they are no less memorable for, in the quiet nobility of the scout Hawkeye lies the strong, silent hero of the wilderness which has become the archetypical protagonist in our own American westerns. And the Indians, Chingachgook and Uncas, are the very prototypes of the noble savage, so much used, and over-used, today. This is a tale of action first and foremost without much plot but so well told that you barely notice, as our heroes flee and pursue their enemies in turn -- until the very quickness of the prose seems to mirror and embody the speed of the action. Nor is this book only to be read for its rapid-fire rendition of flight and pursuit, for it touches the reader on another level as well, as the bold young Uncas moves out ahead of his comrades to place himself at risk for the others and the woman he loves. Although we never see Uncas at anything but a distance and never get to know the man he is supposed to be, he is yet a symbol of that people of whom he is the last chiefly descendant, the Delaware Mohicans. Nobly born into the finest of Mohican bloodlines, Uncas faces his final trial with heroic energy and resolve in order to defeat the nefarious and twisted Magua. Yet this struggle is also the final footnote in the story of a people, marking the closing chapter for all those Indians who, with the Mohicans, have, in Cooper's own words, seen the morning of their nation and the inevitable nightfall which must follow. If you give this book a chance and bear with some of the heavy nineteenth century prose, it will prove out in the end. An exciting and worthwhile read.

Set in upstate New York in colonial times, Cooper here tells the story of the stolid colonial scout Hawkeye, nee Natty Bumppo (don't ask), who, with his two Indian companions Chingachgook (the Big Snake) and his son Uncas (apparently newly come to manhood), stumble on a party of British soldiers conducting two fair maidens to their father, the commander of British Fort William Henry during the French and Indian War. Under the watchful eyes of the young British officer who has the girls in his charge and led by a Huron scout, Magua, the party appears, to the indomitable Hawkeye, to be at greater risk than they realize as they trek through the wilderness toward the safety of the girls' father's garrison. And, indeed, Hawkeye's judgement is soon proved right as the scout Magua treacherously betrays the hapless girls in repayment, it seems, for a stint of corporal punishment inflicted on him previously by their absent parent. Since the Hurons, Magua's native tribe, are culturally akin to the Iroquois who are the herditary enemies of the Algonquin Delawares, from whom Chingachgook and his son hail and among whom Hawkeye has made his home and friendships, a natural antagonism has arisen almost at once between Hawkeye's party and the Huron and this proves salutary, when danger finally strikes. The tale quickly becomes a matter of flight and pursuit through thickly overgrown primeval forests, over rough mountains and across broad open lakes as the beleagured travelers first elude and then flee the dreaded Iroquois (allies of the French) who have joined the renegade Huron in an effort to seize the two girls. After a brief respite within the safety of William Henry however, the tables are once again turned as Magua's perfidy puts the girls once more at risk. And now the story shifts to a manic pursuit of the fleeing Magua who means to carry off his human prey in order to finally have his revenge on the girls' father, on the British and on the Europeans, generally, whose presence in his native country he blames (not altogether unjustifiably) for his myriad travails. Written in the fine tradition of the 19th century romance (which, of course, is what this book is), Cooper picked up where Sir Walter Scott (the venerable founder of this particular novelistic tradition) left off, creating a rich historical tale of adventure, nobility and marvelously sketched characters set against a brilliantly detailed natural landscape. If his characters are less keenly drawn than Scott's they are no less memorable for, in the quiet nobility of the scout Hawkeye lies the strong, silent hero of the wilderness which was to become the archetypical protagonist of the American western. And the Indians, Chingachgook and Uncas, are the very prototypes of the noble savage, so much used and over-used today. This is a tale of action first and foremost without much plot but so well told that you barely notice, as our heroes flee and pursue their enemies in turn until the very quickness of the prose seems to mirror and embody the speed of the action. Nor is this book only to be read for its rapid-fire rendition of flight and pursuit, for it touches the reader on another level as well, as the bold young Uncas moves out ahead of his comrades to place himself at risk for the others and the woman he loves. Although we never see Uncas at anything but a distance and never get to know the man he is supposed to be, he is yet a symbol of that people of whom he is the last chiefly descendant, the Delaware Mohicans. Nobly born into the finest of Mohican bloodlines, Uncas faces his final trial with heroic energy and resolve in order to defeat the nefarious and twisted Magua. Yet this struggle is also the final footnote in the story of a people, marking the closing chapter for all those Indians who, with the Mohicans, have seen, in Cooper's words, the morning of their nation and the inevitable nightfall which must follow. The book is a bit short on characterization and plotting and the prose is heavy for modern tastes, but the action is richly visualized in the flow of the narrative and the images are compelling. In the end, despite its flaws, this book of Cooper's is, in fact, the classic we have been told it is. -- S. W. Mirsky

Set in upstate New York in colonial times, Cooper here tells the story of the stolid colonial scout Hawkeye, nee Natty Bumppo (don't ask), who, with his two Indian companions Chingachgook (the Big Snake) and his son Uncas (apparently newly come to manhood), stumble on a party of British soldiers conducting two fair maidens to their father, the commander of British Fort William Henry during the French and Indian War. Under the watchful eyes of the young British officer who has the girls in his charge and led by a Huron scout, Magua, the party appears, to the indomitable Hawkeye, to be at greater risk than they realize as they trek through the wilderness toward the safety of the girls' father's garrison. And, indeed, Hawkeye's judgement is soon proved right as the scout Magua treacherously betrays the hapless girls in repayment, it seems, for a stint of corporal punishment inflicted on him previously by their absent parent. Since the Hurons, Magua's native tribe, are culturally akin to the Iroquois who are the herditary enemies of the Algonquin Delawares, from whom Chingachgook and his son hail and among whom Hawkeye has made his home and friendships, a natural antagonism has arisen almost at once between Hawkeye's party and the Huron and this proves salutary, when danger finally strikes. The tale quickly becomes a matter of flight and pursuit through thickly overgrown primeval forests, over rough mountains and across broad open lakes as the beleagured travelers first elude and then flee the dreaded Iroquois (allies of the French) who have joined the renegade Huron in an effort to seize the two girls. After a brief respite within the safety of William Henry however, the tables are once again turned as Magua's perfidy puts the girls once more at risk. And now the story shifts to a manic pursuit of the fleeing Magua who means to carry off his human prey in order to finally have his revenge on the girls' father, on the British and on the Europeans, generally, whose presence in his native country he blames (not altogether unjustifiably) for his myriad travails. Written in the fine tradition of the 19th century romance (which, of course, is what this book is), Cooper picked up where Sir Walter Scott (the venerable founder of this novelistic tradition) left off, creating a rich historical tale of adventure, nobility and marvelously sketched characters set against a brilliantly detailed natural landscape. If his characters are less keenly drawn than Scott's they are no less memorable for, in the quiet nobility of the scout Hawkeye lies the strong, silent hero of the wilderness which has become the archetypical protagonist in our own American westerns. And the Indians, Chingachgook and Uncas, are the very prototypes of the noble savage, so much used and over-used today. This is a tale of action first and foremost without much plot but so well told that you barely notice, as our heroes flee and pursue their enemies in turn until the very quickness of the prose seems to mirror and embody the speed of the action. Nor is this book only to be read for its rapid-fire rendition of flight and pursuit, for it touches the reader on another level as well, as the bold young Uncas moves out ahead of his comrades to place himself at risk for the others and the woman he loves. Although we never see Uncas at anything but a distance and never get to know the man he is supposed to be, he is yet a symbol of that people of whom he is the last chiefly descendant, the Delaware Mohicans. Nobly born into the finest of Mohican bloodlines, Uncas faces his final trial with heroic energy and resolve in order to defeat the nefarious and twisted Magua. Yet this struggle is also the final footnote in the story of a people, marking the closing chapter for all those Indians who, with the Mohicans, have seen, in Cooper's own words, the morning of their nation and the inevitable nightfall which must follow. -- Stuart W. Mirsky (mirsky@ix.netcom.com

Although I'm a big fan of Hawthorne's short stories, this is my first venture into his novel writing. His short stories, by their very nature, move from conflict to climax without much ado. They are preachy, pedantic, and allegorical--and I love them. "...Seven Gables" moves along at a much slower pace, developing symbolism and characters with greater subtlety and depth. The plot itself is not much deeper than one of his short stories. We watch humbled, yet strong Hepzibah struggle for a living from a one room shop in the house. Along the way, she meets a variety of characters and becomes host and confidant to a long-lost relative, gentle Phoebe. Phoebe is sunlight, poking into the shadows of the gabled house, bringing vivacity to its occupants, Hepzibah, Clifford, and Holgrave. Yes, Hawthorne hints at sinister things in the past and present of the old house, but only with the arrival of Judge Pyncheon do we begin to suspect trouble brewing.

The conclusion of the book involves death and hidden riches and suspicions and redemption. The symbols throughout--the house, the chimney, the elm tree, the chickens, etc.--manage to reveal their purposes in due time. In a satisfactory manner, Hawthorne contrasts the insidious nature of religious hypocrisy with the virtues of honesty and gentle love. The horrors of the Pyncheons' past fade away in the light of Phoebe's commitment and care. Her time in the house brings life to all within...all except one.

Hawthorne could've encapsulated this tale in one of his short stories. He could've sliced away words with meticulous demand. Instead, he allows us to know and care for the people in his story. Some readers, granted, will find it difficult to care and will call it a waste of their time; sure, it takes a little effort. But, just as Phoebe and Hepzibah display sacrificial love, a reader who's willing to give the time might find worthwhile rewards by the book's end.

If you're already a fan, you'll enjoy it. I certainly did. If it seems too long, try some of his short works and work up your appetite for these heartier courses. This is rich stuff.

The story of "The House of Seven Gables" begins in the midst of Puritan New England (which Hawthorne paints characteristically, and forgiveably, quite bleak) with the fantastic tale of a severe dispute between stern Colonel Pyncheon and alleged wizard Matthew Maule over a piece of land. Maule is conveniently executed (while cursing Pyncheon) for his "crimes", and Pyncheon builds Seven Gables on the aforesaid land. Several years later, the colonel dies suddenly, supposedly the mark of Maule's curse, which is to forever haunt the Pyncheon mansion.

Several generations of Pyncheons come and go, and the family decays and whithers until it can boast only four remaining members, two of which are old and frail. But one, a Judge Pyncheon, rotten under his trim exterior, is up to unsurfaced mischief.

The story tends to move slowly (much of the meat of the plot is not encountered until nearly half-way through!), but every word bears weight. Hawthorne weaves his story in such a way that every moment spent getting to know the characters is crucial. Neither is the slow development boring: far from it! Relax, enjoy the pace, and allow yourself to feast on Hawthorne's brilliant prose. As Henry James once stated, "The House of Seven Gables" is "the closest approach we are likely to have to the Great American Novel."

This book is really good. Very deep mystery about a dying witch's curse. It's not a fast-moving thriller, by a slow and methodical one. Every word is chosen so carefully by Hawthorne, that it is fun to read and a challenge for the mind to find the hidden meaning. The novel starts with a discription of the house- the house with human attributes and ends with a lone cat watching the fulfillment of a witch's curse. Really excellent. There's plenty of characterization, hints of incest, and omenious surrounding to keep the reader entertained. Love love loved it, read it in a college American literature class.

Stephen Crane has written an excellent work in The Red Badge of Courage. This book takes place in a period of two days, giving Crane plenty of room to expand on his themes and go into great detail. This book catches the reader's attention by presenting the Civil War in such great detail that the reader cannot help but picture the scenes in their own mind.

The Red Badge of Courage tells the story of a youthful boy, Henry Flemming, who goes to war. After many rumors of battle cause Henry to doubt his courage when faced with battle, Henry's group finally goes into battle. Henry does not run away during the fighting, and gains confidence. However, the second battle that he sees causes him to flee. The rest of the story tells of How Henry comes to terms with his fear, and eventually returns to the battle line.

The only complaint that any reader could have is that Crane uses almost too much detail. Because there is so much detail, the reader could loose track of the plot. The great detail is, however, what makes this such an outstanding book. Any reader that can get "into" a book will thoroughly enjoy The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane.

The Red Badge of Courage is interepted as many as being an anti-war novel: it is not.What it does do is present the horrors and psychological aspects of war war without glory, but not without heroics and courage.Henry Fleming is in many ways an every-soldier: he joins the army out of patriotism and to prove his manhood; when the time comes to fight he doubts himself and runs away out of fear. It is at this point Henry comes to the crossroads of his young life: instead of completely deserting his unit he returns to his regiment and the battlefield out of a sense of duty and also out of shame and anger at himself. Once he returns he peforms heroically on the battlefield. I feel Crane's purpose in this books is not to make some overblown anti-war treatise like All Quiet on the Western Front, but to portray what he believed( and may soldiers who read the book agreed with him) to be the emotions and feelings of a soldier in war and also the true motivation behind courage and heroism. Crane shows through Henry, that heroism and courage in war is not something that comes naturally to man(or any animal, as shown by the squirrel scene in the forest) or can simply be conjured up out of blind obedience or extreme partiotism. Crane in fact argues the opposite: courage in war(or in and courage in reponse to violence) is something unatural, something that must be accomplished by overcoming our own natural fear and flight instincts.Henry is able to perform herocially because of anger, his sense of duty, his feeling of brotherhood toward his regiment and out of something deep inside himself that even Crane ( and nobody) could not totally understand . This is a great book about heroism, courage , brotherhood, duty and the psychological aspects of war. It is not a books that glorifies war ,nor it is it an anti-war treatise. It simply tells a story about war in a world where war exists.

Peace is a rare circumstance among major nations in the last 150 years. When war pushes peace out, everyone quickly realizes why peace is so important and desirable. When peace returns, the next generation can quickly fail to grasp its significance. In extreme cases, this can lead to romanticism of war.

Books like The Red Badge of Courage and All Quiet on the Western Front are important ways to pass along the message of how undesirable war is.

The Red Badge of Courage offers another benefit. Stephen Crane takes us into the mindset of mid-19th century America. At that time, the spiritual and the tangible were closely entertwined in peoples' minds. You will find a lot of religious metaphors in this book, that a modern writer would be relatively unlikely to use.

Another benefit of reading The Red Badge of Courage is that it helps to understand the profound effect that the Civil War has had on the United States. The significance of these events remains fresh for many Americans, while others ignore the events totally.

Although it is certainly not an easy book to read, it can be a rewarding one. You will find that you can discuss this book with a high percentage of all the people you will ever meet who like to read. That's a pretty nice benefit from reading a fairly short book.

I also recommend that you also think about where in your own life you have developed misconceptions that could harm you.