I sat down at 8:00 last evening and finished this book in 2 1/2 hours, it was so fascinating and exciting! Mo Anthoine is a wonderful man who cares more about friendship and fellowship on a climb than he does about conquering the mountain. This ethos makes him most admirable. But, Mo Anthoine is more than admirable. His climbing exploits are riveting. Moreover, as a movie climbing double, camera man, and stunt man for movies like *The Mission*, and as the inventor and producer of much climbing equipment, we see Anthoine as a kind of mountaineering Michaelangelo, a true Renaissance man. The book's title, *Feeding the Rat*, refers to a phrase Anthoine uses to describe the mixture of pleasure and fear and pain that is fed in the climber, a feeding he can't get enough of.

The book's author, A. Alvarez, writes beautifully, giving his readers a loving portrait of Mo Anthoine, a visceral sense of being on a variety of climbs, and much sound and accesible philosophical material to think about.

This work is not, properly speaking, a "study" of suicide. Rather, it is comprised of patchwork, non-integrated personal narratives and scanty overviews of psychological theories, literary histories and cultural backgrounds whose lack of integration- Indeed, lack of a coherent thread-do not for a "study" make. But the most bothersome aspect about this book, aside from the disjunctive nature of its content, is its detached, arid prose style. Even the personal accounts of his friendship with Sylvia Plath and his theorizing on the etiology of her suicide (already jejune from the outset, since Plath's is perhaps the most described and theorized over suicide in the last half-century, by friends and otherwise) to his own description of his own failed attempt, there is a listless, plodding quality to the prose, which lends a certain credibility to what Alvarez intimates about this attempt, that it somehow DID kill something inside him. There is simply a lack of vitality here, which makes for rather humdrum reading, regardless of the weight of the book's subject. Plath's own autobiographical suicide-oriented novel, The Bell Jar, is a wonderful benchmark of how the subject can be treated with verve and energy.

If one is looking for a solid, non-fiction, overview of the subject written with energy, erudition and even whimsy, Robert Burton's age-old The Anatomy of Melancholy (mentioned glancingly in this book) is still the best and most helpful delving into the subject, both for those simply interested in the phenomenon and, more importantly, from those, like myself, suffering from depression or melancholy and contemplating the possibility of "felo-de-se".

As a reader and a sufferer, I finished this rather bland blook untransformed. And I truly don't understand how this book of limpid prose and scanty overviews ever made it into publication.----Oh yes, forgot, he was a friend of Ms. Plath!

Alvarez's classic book, "The Savage God," examines the religious, sociological, philosophical and literary aspects of suicide through the ages. In pagan Rome, suicide was habitual and considered an honorable way to die. In the Middle Ages, suicide was regarded with revulsion as a mortal sin. Dante, in his "Inferno," consigned suicides to the seventh circle of hell, below the burning heretics and murderers. Later on, the Romantics associated premature death with genius and they admired people who ended their lives while they were still at their artistic peak. Throughout history, mankind has viewed suicide as everything from an unforgivable crime of self-murder to the sad act of a person for whom living has become intolerable.

In a more personal vein, Alvarez discusses the fascinating poet Sylvia Plath, with whom he was acquainted, as well as his own depression and attempted suicide. The section on Plath is superb. Alvarez was fond of Plath and he admired her work greatly. He reveals in a clear-eyed manner how the forces tearing her apart were stronger than those holding her together.

"The Savage God" is an absorbing look at a subject often spoken of in whispers. Alvarez points out that people who lose parents at an early age are more likely to take their own lives. He also examines in depth the strong and mysterious link between creative genius and the impulse toward suicide. "The Savage God" is a work that sheds welcome light on the human condition in all of its complexity, yet Alvarez never presumes to provide easy answers to questions that are ultimately unanswerable.

I used to read "The Savage God" whenever I was 'in the midst of a dark wood', which for me at least, seemed to occur once every three years. For some reason, the stories of other people's despair and suicide, including Alvarez's own attempted suicide always steadied me. His book is a very literate account of why suicide is such a waste of life and talent. I wouldn't call it a cheerful book, but for me at least, reading it is a very cathartic experience. Alvarez doesn't preach, he merely reports, but he has nevertheless written a very moving book. Read it especially if you are depressed. There is nothing like it on the bookshelves, except perhaps Styron's "Darkness Visible".

Has a wonderful command of language, subtle but so witty. Following him on his life journey is interesting because he refuses to be terribly judgmental. No incriminations/ recriminations. Much love in his heart.