After seeing the stunning B&W portraits so wonderfully printed in this book, I knew I had to buy it regardless of what the text had to say. Even so, when I got it home I had high hopes that the text would tell me something about the people depicted in its pages, like a National Geographic story might. Or perhaps it would say something about the photographer and why he chose these subjects and what he liked about each image. I would have loved a technical treatise on how one takes such great on-location photographs.

Instead, the text, while well written, doesn't have much to do with the photographs at all--and that's a shame.

On the other hand the photographs are truly wonderful and they communicate for themselves. They show how compelling Black and White portraits can be. If you like Black and White portraits, buy this book for the photography. And if you enjoy Russell Banks' musings on the meaning of life, so much the better.

In response to what I feel was an undeserved criticism of this book--also being from Maine and in fact a Patten by birth--I would just like to say that quite to the contrary of viewing these photographs and their accompanying text as sad, dire, or despairing, I view them as striking at the heart of what it means to be human, with all its contradictory emotions. I consider this book a testament to a willingness to pause and let experience speak for itself. It may not be "quaint" but it certainly is profound.

I suggest one copy of the new Harvard University Press Variorum Edition of Emily Dickinson and this incredible distillation/meditation on the human. Take both to a room somewhere and don't come out until you're haunted. Both evoke Death with a capital D.

Having followed Russell Banks for years, I looked forward to this collection of short stories, many of which have already appeared in various magazines. While Banks's edge is as sharp as ever, especially among the travails in the trailer park, I found a lot of these stories to be bland, lacking depth, almost uninspired -- sort of the trimmings left over from his greater works, like Cloudsplitter, Trailer Park and Continental Drift.

Russell Banks isn't a household name in American letters, and what fame he's scratched together as an author has come from powerful novels such as "Affliction" and "Cloudsplitter." But, like Hemingway, Banks is best (and feels most free) when he writes short, and a new compilation might finally give him his due as a short-story writer.

"Angel on the Roof" is a literary album of Banks's greatest hits, 31 examples of what he calls "the best work I have done in the form over the thirty-seven years since I began trying to write." Twenty-two of the stories first appeared in four lesser-known collections between 1975 and 1986; of the nine more recent stories, six have only been published in magazines such as Esquire and newspaper literary supplements. More importantly, Banks has freely revised many of the old stories, so even his most ardent fans can expect to see something new.

His stories are elegantly postmodern, beautiful and striking, full of diverse voices and disquietingly vulgar settings. Some are only a few pages long; others go deeper and longer. But many of his stories, though sometimes suffocatingly bleak, are also capable of poignant humor and broad satire.

Perhaps the renaissance of the short story that finally elevates Banks to his proper place among American writers. He ranks with John Cheever as one of the masters of the contemporary form, if not in name-recognition.

This guy is great. His writing is so spare, so tender and so beautiful it's almost too good! This does mean the book lasts longer than most as you have to keep setting it down to gasp in wonderment, shake your head and think about what you've just read. I love Russell Banks!

By SF I mean speculative fiction. This is an alternate history, where an entire religion has sprung up around the worship of the dead. Banks has invented a Bible and theology that's highly interesting, and this book is worth reading for just his creation of an interesting world.

The book itself is a form of Puritan works, sent by the jailed practitioners to the congregation. Banks manages to capture the austere yet somehow elaborate Puritan method of writing, while at the same time keeping the book interesting for modern readers.

The only point I'm really not clear on is...well...his point. This is obviously intended as some sort of allegory; why go to the lengths he did just for his own amusement? But I'm not sure WHAT this allegory is about? Email any suggestions, I'm genuinely curious as to theories.

It was interesting to me to read reviews of this book written by Jamaicans or people who have more first-hand knowledge of Jamaica than a beach vacation can provide. This is because, for me, the cultural and political aspects of Jamaican life that were depicted in _The Book of Jamaica_ far outweighed in interest anything about the protagonist/narrator. I found it odd how unable I was to hold the plot involving the expatriot professor in my mind while I was reading. It created an unpleasant effect because his story would occasionally interrupt the story of the Maroon communities and I would remember that there was more than one thing the story was about. The proportions, in this sense, felt wrong to me.

This said, I found the communties and lifestyles described here to be fascinating reading and Banks (at least apparently) wrote with loving respect about the Jamaican culture and people. A nice change from the usual cliche descriptions.

Forget all the Guides to Jamaica. If you really want to know how an American might feel living in my country, where "no problem" is the national password, yet a country full of problems, read this little known--at least in Jamaica--book. It captures the undertow of violence as well as the beauty of the place, giving a most realitic and compelling description, albeit in fictional form. You will want to read this book before taking a short or long visit. Though Russell Bank's experience won't be yours, that is, unless you choose to stay.

The plot of this early Bank's novel revolves around a vacation to the seductive island of Jamaica by a college professor and his wife. They rent a home with patio and swimming pool on the outskirts of Port Antonio. Servants come on each day to cook and clean. The couple is protected from the turbulence of the island's cultural and political life by a fence made of both wire and social class (not to mention race). But the professor, the narrator of this tale, soon finds himself enjoying the company of the locals; in particular a young Rastafarian who has plenty of powerful Jamaican ganja he is very willing to share. Sure enough, before too much time has elapsed, the professor is smoking all the day long and providing transportation in his rental car to a small group of Marroons and Rastas that stay locally for short periods of time but live up in the mountains where they have their marijuana fields and live in villages with their families.

There are several trips back to the island after the narrator's life is completely transformed by his experiences during the first. His wife no longer accompanies him however as their marraige was one of the first casualities of his abrupt new fascination with Rastfarianism, Marroon culture, and ganja. You can imagine! But what starts out as an adventure full of promise, unfortunately follows an inevitable course ending in sorrow and not a little horror. Any attempt to blithely transcend differences of race and class are doomed, the author seems to be saying. And ganja will not of its own power make a story turn out all right, regardless of it's enormous capacity to create an internal state that seems to be mystically protected from all outward harm. In fact the opposite may be true. Ganja may release traits and fuel decisions that create a trend which rushes towards confrontation with dis-associated, unwanted self-aspects and a pressing need to re-assess one's relationship with the basics of self-preservation and the will to continue living.

This is a compelling, well-written novel that has the advantage of having marijuana as one of its central characters. The role marijuana plays in the story and in fueling the psychological development of the protaganist is handled skillfully and raises interesting questions about what effect heavy use may have on the trajectory of one's life. As a Jamaican travelogue, the book will spellbind as it is really a tour de force of gritty observational writing. Banks obviously harbours a deep love for Jamaica and a well-earned respect for the raw power of Jah Rastafari as expereinced through the taking of his sacremental offering; the holy herb ganja.

I read this book and I can't figure out what Banks was trying to say. I was thoughouly confused for days wondering what was going on. I would love for someone to tell me what it was that I read, becasue I certainly don't know.

Challenging, experimental, satirical, fun. These are probably the best adjectives to describe Mr. Banks' first book. I definitley feel that this novel is not as well done as many of his other books, yet Family Life provides a unique and philosophical experiment in the writing and reading of novels not seen too often. The main problem I had with this book was "The Tradition of the Bloody Orange - A Paradigm." This was a page-long metaphor which was a little too vague for me to be sure of my translation. I believe it was discussing the pain of birth, life and the relief or release of death. If someone who understood this could please explain their interpretation, it would be greatly appreciated.