This is part of an annual of Cold Spring Harbor Conferences on vaccines. The reference to Grisham and other authors of related interest are misplaced.

As a historian of the abolitionist period, and the raid at Harpers Ferry in particular, I strongly recommend the work of Osborn Perry Anderson. His work is the only surviving manuscript which gives the story from the perspective of the men who fought against slavery with John Brown -- not the confederacy or other biased versions. Anderson was also an African American, and thus further adds a missing perspective. I find it unacceptable to buy into the "academic" establishment's version of history in this regard, that Anderson, an African American, does not carry equal weight with the white writers of the time. If we acknowledge that racism was a bias in historical accounts, then Osborn Perry Anderson's account shares what it meant without the racist distortions, as he was part of a multiracial movement for emancipation. While the text covers some aspects of raid that may embarass some, the truth needs to be told. It should also be noted that Osborn Perry Anderson him self was given the special Sword that belonged to President George Washington, as one who would uplift the new nation of justice. Brown recognized him as a leader, and his leadership was well proven in his ability to escape at the end of the battle, and seek refuge in Canada. He saved the day with a more objective account, which was edited by Mary Shadd, and published in 1861. He seems to avoid mention of some details to protect comrades working against slavery, and their families. Finally, the book helps us to reflect on where we need to go from here, in order to achieve justice and equality. It is a great inspirational and yet factual book. It is excellent and highly recommended!

This is the ultimate reference tool for the IT Professional required to work with NT Server. It covers the trickiest issues, and gives you simple solution options. A must have!

Witness to The Young Republic: A Yankee's Journal, 1828-1870 By Benjamin Brown French and Edited by Donald B. Cole and John J. McDonough is a marvelous journal that time-capsules life in Washington,D.C. from 1828 - 1870. Brown was a political officeholder and knew and became personally aquainted with every president from John Quincy Adams through Ulysses S. Grant.

This book was edited from over four thousand pages that were part of his personal diary... and what a diary it was. French had a flair for writing and he makes a splendid treatment of the events on the political scene of his day, keeping the readers well entertained with fascinating annotations and gossip. French's eventful life is recorded here with a delightful mix of the ordinary and extraordinary characters only an observer with a keen eye can bring to paper.

French kept watch and recorded some very interesting events in American history: as his journal gives us a shrewd but lively entertaining trip through American life; a magnificent sweep across American history, we see comments on personalities, events, manners and political ideology, penetrating observations on the people and events of that time.

One of the most tearful events, as described by French, was his account of Lincoln, as he was at Lincoln's bedside when he died. One of the best accounts in the book is French's description of the events leading to and including Lincoln's Gettysburg address. All in all, this book is very interesting and gives a rare look into events, life and times of that time period and is well worth your time to read. This book is full of information about the leaders of this great country and how they really felt at that time.

There is information about all of the prominent personalities found in this book from that time... making it a treasure trove from which we can get a better picture of how life was, not only public, but private as well.

One of the world's longest running friendships is viewed, reviewed and analysed in a very innovative way. Unlike the usual boring textbook type material one might expect to read on the subject, this book seems to be in a more informal, user-friendly layout. It should be enjoyed by layman and academic alike.

Almost impossible to describe, PERFUME is one of the oddest and most unique books you'll ever read. Set centuries ago, if follows the life of a very emotionally crippled child (later adult) with a hugely sensitive sense of smell. Our "hero" becomes a master perfume maker and almost becomes dangerously obsessed with making a perfume that captures the essence, the very purity of a lovely virgin. Weird, huh?

The book, though compared to "literature" by some of the reviews here, moves very quickly and doesn't feel difficult to read at all. It does take a lot of time telling you about the manufacture of perfumes, but to be quite honest, this stuff is VERY fascinating the way it is presented here.

The book has moments of dry humor, moments of drama, and moments of pure, over-the-top grotesqueness. You've never read a book with a main character anything remotely like this. You've never followed a plot at all similar. And the ending is unexpected as well. It's not exactly a "feel-good" read, but when you're done, you'll have the unusual feeling of having gone down a literary road that's never been traveled before.

Highly, highly recommended. Just keep an open mind!!!

A gruesome tale told with consumate grace. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille takes us on an journey through the sights and smells of the decadent 18th-century France of King Louis the Beloved. Possessed of a virtually autistic brilliance, Grenouille has an abnormally sharp sense of smell and nothing else. Like many a prodigy, he is bored by the everyday applications of genius, and instead sets off in search of the holy grail of the perfumer's art: the creation of a scent which could induce love of the person wearing it. For Grenouille, murder is just a not particularly important aspect of the destillation process.

The book is crafted in rich imagery and with biting irony, especially when describing the book's unusually vivid supporting cast. Indeed, the supporting characters are in my opinion one of this book's strongest aspects and Süskind makes brilliant use of them. Where other books leave their eventual fate a mystery, Süskind wrings a few more pages out of each one at their writing-out, briefly taking us a few days or years into the future to witness the often horrorous endings met by those whose paths cross that of the perfumer.

This is a novel so beautifully written that it transcends into literature. Ingenious in its conception and carefully crafted, the author has created a unique and dazzling work of fiction. Divided into three parts, the book tells the story of a most unusual life, that of Jean-Baptiste Grenouille.

The first part of the book establishes that he was born to a woman who was hung from a gibbet for having left him to die. It turns out that Jean-Baptiste is an unusual baby. He gives people the willies, because, unlike most babies, Jean-Baptiste has no scent.

Over time, Jean-Baptiste develops into a boy with a secret gift. His olfactory sense is developed to a degree unheard of in humans. He delights in parsing the odors around him. Ugly, friendless, and a loner, he eventually ventures into the city of Paris, a malodorous and pungent cornucopia of smells. Believe me, there is plenty to sniff out in eighteenth century Paris! Jean-Baptiste savors each whiff, and the book conveys these olfactory delights with meticulous, descriptive precision.

His bleak existence is transformed, however, when he one day captures a heady scent of such exquisite beauty that he finds himself obsessed with it. Determined to have that scent at all costs, he eventually sniffs it out. It turns out to be the scent of a young virgin on the cusp of flowering into a woman. It is a scent that he must possess. What he does to do so will surely chill the reader.

Jean-Baptiste eventually maneuvers to get himself apprenticed to a perfumer, so that he can have the opportunity to learn the trade and create scents. He leads a bleak existence, subsisting as little more than a slave to the perfumer for whom he works.

The second part of the book begins when Jean-Baptiste leave his employer and goes on a personal pilgrimage, leading an austere existence away from civilization for many years. There, he withdraws into himself even further, living a totally self-sustaining, hermitic existence. He ultimately realizes what other have sensed about him. Jean-Baptiste has no personal scent. He simply does not smell.

With this knowledge, he returns to civilization where, having lived as practically an animal for many years, he creates a fictitious and adventurous scenario to account for his filthy and disgusting appearance. Subsequently, he is taken under the wing of some local nobility and feted and pampered. Realizing the importance of scent, he creates a personal scent for himself. He now realizes that he who has the power over scent can rule supreme. He intends to do so.

The third part of the book has Jean-Baptiste migrating to a town that is the hub for the scent trade. Perfumes, oils, and soaps are the stock in trade for this town and, as such, beckon brightly to Jean-Baptiste. Once there, he again smells a scent so delectable that he longs to possess it. He knows that scent for what it is and now knows that it is the scent, and not the personal charms of its bearer, that captures the attention and devotion of others. Jean Baptiste wants to harness that scent at all costs. He desperately desires the power to make others love him. He wants to be supreme.

It is his desperate desire to harness and possess that celestial scent that causes Jean-Baptiste, a socio-path with little empathy for others, to prey upon the maidens of the town in order to obtain that which he needs. It is his obsession that lays at the heart of the vortex that arises in the town, as murder after murder occurs. Yet, no one suspects him. What ultimately happens leads to an almost unbelievable climax, when Jean-Baptiste finds himself consumed by the passion he has managed to arouse in others through scent.

This is a heady, quirky, and compelling debut novel, like nothing I have ever before read. Complex and lyrical in its telling, it is a novel that stays with the reader long after the last page is turned. Bravo!

This play is great! I've always liked Shakespearean comedy and tragic romance, and I didn't want to read this play at first, but when I did--it got me.

For those who want to read a play full of word play, appearance and reality in the world and for you, irony and Christian innuendoes, Macbeth is for you. The word play, especially the surprising comparison of murder with "Tarquin's ravishing", and the really effective ones like ambition with drunkeness, will make you read it again and again. There is a haunting soliloquy in Act 5 that Macbeth gives about life--it's famous and most would have heard of it, but nothing beats reading it together with the play.

Behind every successful man there is a woman, and behind every tragic hero there should be a tragic heroine. Lady Macbeth will repulse you and gain your pity. Don't despise her, folks, she just squashed her femininity thinking it was the best thing to do. She wouldn't have to ask evil forces to take away her human compassion if she didn't have any to begin with.

A must-read, and must-savour.

"Macbeth," the play by William Shakespeare, is definitely one literary classic that still holds its own as a vital and engaging piece of art. Despite being a stage play, it also works superbly as a reader's text apart from a theatrical setting.

The plot begins thus: Scottish warrior Macbeth is told by three witches that he is destined to ascend the throne. This fateful prophecy sets in motion a plot full of murder, deceit, warfare, and psychological drama.

Despite being a lean play, "Macbeth" is densely layered and offers the careful reader rewards on many levels. Woven into the violent and suspenseful story are a host of compelling issues: gender identity, the paranormal, leadership, guilt, etc. In one sense, the play is all about reading and misreading (i.e. with regard to Macbeth's "reading" of the witches' prophecies), so at this level the play has a rich metatextual aspect.

Macbeth is one of Shakespeare's most unforgettable tragic characters. His story is told using some of English literature's richest and most stunning language.

While I was basically familiar with Shakespeare's Tragedy of Macbeth, I have only recently actually read the bard's brilliant play. The drama is quite dark and moody, but this atmosphere serves Shakespeare's purposes well. In Macbeth, we delve deeply into the heart of a true fiend, a man who would betray the king, who showers honors upon him, in a vainglorious snatch at power. Yet Macbeth is not 100% evil, nor is he a truly brave soul. He waxes and wanes over the execution of his nefarious plans, and he thereafter finds himself haunted by the blood on his own hands and by the ethereal spirits of the innocent men he has had murdered. On his own, Macbeth is much too cowardly to act so traitorously to his kind and his country. The source of true evil in these pages is the cold and calculating Lady Macbeth; it is she who plots the ultimate betrayal, forcefully pushes her husband to perform the dreadful acts, and cleans up after him when he loses his nerve. This extraordinary woman is the lynchpin of man's eternal fascination with this drama. I find her behavior a little hard to account for in the closing act, but she looms over every single male character we meet here, be he king, loyalist, nobleman, courtier, or soldier. Lady Macbeth is one of the most complicated, fascinating, unforgettable female characters in all of literature.

The plot does not seem to move along as well as Shakespeare's other most popular dramas, but I believe this is a result of the writer's intense focus on the human heart rather than the secondary activity that surrounds the related royal events. It is fascinating if sometimes rather disjointed reading. One problem I had with this play in particular was one of keeping up with each of the many characters that appear in the tale; the English of Shakespeare's time makes it difficult for me to form lasting impressions of the secondary characters, of whom there are many. Overall, though, Macbeth has just about everything a great drama needs: evil deeds, betrayal, murder, fighting, ghosts, omens, cowardice, heroism, love, and, as a delightful bonus, mysterious witches. Very many of Shakespeare's more famous quotes are also to be found in these pages, making it an important cultural resource for literary types. The play doesn't grab your attention and absorb you into its world the way Hamlet or Romeo and Juliet does, but this voyage deep into the heart of evil, jealousy, selfishness, and pride forces you to consider the state of your own deep-seated wishes and dreams, and for that reason there are as many interpretations of the essence of the tragedy as there are readers of this Shakespearean masterpiece. No man's fall can rival that of Macbeth's, and there is a great object lesson to be found in this drama. You cannot analyze Macbeth without analyzing yourself to some degree, and that goes a long way toward accounting for the Tragedy of Macbeth's literary importance and longevity.

Written from the perspective of Owen Brown, son of John Brown there is a great deal within the pages of Cloudsplitter that can be admired. It is in many instances well written, evocative, moving and extremely powerful. The strengths of the novel are to be found in its depth of description both in terms of events and environments. For example the reader gains an excellent understanding of the hardships of existing in certain parts of 19th century America. Furthermore, the author develops the characterisation of both Owen and John Brown with a great deal of skill.

However, at 758 pages this book is far too long and at times I found that length of description replaced depth of description which for this reader was reflected in a lack of momentum and development. Consequently, I at times became frustrated at attempts to flood me with language rather than lead me with it. The second half of the book - after Owen and his brother Fred head off to Kansas ( a move which would lead them to Harper's Ferry) - picked up pace and I felt that I had more invested in the story. I do wish however that this could have happened before page 549!

I gave this book three stars because that's right in the middle of what I could have given. I suppose this is because Cloudsplitter for me hangs in the balance, one side represented by fine writing and the other by at time over indulgence. Ultimately I'm glad I read the book but for me it isn't an epic or the great American novel (as it is described on its cover). A measure for me of how much I've enjoyed a book is how many times I'll loan it out to friends and family - Cloudsplitter I regret to say will spend some time of my bookcase.

Cloudsplitter, Russell Banks' new novel about famed abolitionist John Brown, as narrated by his third son, Owen, presents vividly the increasing frustration and desperation of the grassroots anti-slavery movement of the era; while giving a beautifully bittersweet portrait of American domestic life in the early-to-mid part of the 19th century. Brown is alternately the stern, domineering Old Testament authoritarian and the nurturing family patriarch. He is chronically torn between the financial demands of raising his ever growing flock of children, and his devotion to the heroic principle of eradicating the scourge of slavery through any means possible-as soon as possible.

After working variously as a tanner of animal hides, then in land speculation, and as a purveyor in the wool trade, Brown's internal conflict between his desire to succeed in business and his commitment to social activism eventually comes to a head with his failure to realize a much anticipated great profit from the sale of American wool while on an overseas journey to England with son Owen. This trip also takes them to the Continent, to Waterloo, accompanied by an interesting analysis by Brown of Napoleon's strategic mistakes and legendarily humiliating defeat-obviously not something Brown ever expected for himself. On the home front, Brown's life is both blessed by his many children and cursed by the sorrowfully premature deaths of some--no doubt a common occurrence in 19th century rural life. Through all of this however, Brown maintains his absolute faith in the God, while Owen, though denying this faith in his own life, nevertheless becomes his father's greatest family ally in the fight to free the slaves.

Banks authoritatively makes key historic figures in the anti-slavery movement come to life, from the sublime philosophizing of Ralph Waldo Emerson to the formidable leadership of Frederick Douglass (according to Banks, Douglass was a close friend and confidante to Brown, "abandoning" him just weeks p! rior to the Harpers Ferry debacle, judging his proposed insurrection to be the unworkable scheme it turned out to be). Along the way, he courts the wealthy Beacon Hill dilettantes, accepting their sizable donations while denouncing their lip service, though sincere, to the cause.

This book, criticized as a little overly long (not entirely unfairly), is best appreciated for the attention given to the small details: the day-to-day existence among homesteaders on the American frontier-both whites and freed slaves; the heated passions of abolitionists and pro-slavers alike; and the treacherous paths of those escaping slavery to Canada; and how the forces of nature, both brutal and serene-shaped their various journeys by land and by sea.

This is an impressive book in scope and execution. It's told through the tortured memories of John Brown's third son, Owen, who survived the doomed attack on Harper's Ferry.

The book pays little attention to the Harper's Ferry adventure and to the Browns' adventures in Kansas, and concentrates instead of the social and familial context of Brown's actions. There is considerably more attention paid to Owen's relationship with his father and his obsessions about sex and human relationships than to the cowboy style adventures in Kansas.

While it is written in a stately and measured tone, it does not have the feel of something written in the late 18th century, and Banks' narrator seems comfortable using words and constructions which sound quite modern. Perhhaps because of this, the book never drags in spite of its enormous length.

The central question the book seems to me to ask his the eternal one about ends justifying means. The Browns' seemed to know that the actions that they took in Kansas were morally wrong--yet they believed, and Owen believes at the time of the writing, that had John Brown and his gang not perpetrated the Pottawatomie massacre that the entire course of American history would be different. They believed that the moderate free-soil politicians would have sold out, that Kansas would be admitted to the Union as a slave state, and that Lincoln would never have been elected and the NORTH would have seceded. Of course we'll never know, but we have to ask ourselves if their actions were justified given what they believed. Definitely shows you the terrorists point of view.

Very good book on a fascinating subject.

Jealousy is perhaps the ugliest of emotions, an acid that corrodes the heart, a poison with which man harms his fellow man. Fortunately for us, Shakespeare specializes in ugly emotions, writing plays that exhibit man at his most shameful so we can elevate ourselves above the depths of human folly and watch the carnage with pleasure and awe.

In "Othello," the "green-eyed monster" has afflicted Iago, a Venetian military officer, and the grand irony of the play is that he intentionally infects his commanding general, Othello, with it precisely by warning him against it (Act 3, Scene 3). Iago has two grievances against Othello: He was passed over for promotion to lieutenant in favor of the inexperienced Cassio, and he can't understand why the Senator's lily-white daughter Desdemona would fall for the black Moor. Not one to roll with the punches, he decides to take revenge, using his obsequious sidekick Roderigo and his ingenuous wife Emilia as gears in his transmission of hatred.

The scheme Iago develops is clever in its design to destroy Othello and Cassio and cruel in its inclusion of the innocent Desdemona. He arranges (the normally temperate) Cassio to be caught by Othello in a drunken brawl and discharged from his office, and using a handkerchief that Othello had given Desdemona as a gift, he creates the incriminating illusion that she and Cassio are having an affair. Othello falls for it all, and the tragedy of the play is not that he acts on his jealous impulses but that he discovers his error after it's too late.

It is a characteristic of Shakespeare that his villains are much more interesting and entertaining than his heroes; Iago is proof of this. He's the only character in the play who does any real thinking; the others are practically his puppets, responding unknowingly but obediently to his every little pull of a string. In this respect, this is Iago's play, but Othello claims the title because he -- his nobility -- is the target.

As a play, "Othello" encompasses many things but more than anything else it is a study of pure evil. Although Othello is an accomplished professional soldier and a hero of sorts, he is also a minority and an outcast in many ways. As a Black man and a Moor (which means he's a Moslem), Othello has at least two qualities, which make him stand out in the Elizabethan world. He is also married to a Caucasian woman named Desdemona, which creates an undercurrent of hostility as evidenced by the derogatory remark "the ram hath topped the ewe".

Othello's problems begin when he promotes one of his soldiers, Michael Cassio as his lieutenant. This arouses the jealousy and hatred of one of his other soldiers, Iago who hatches a plot to destroy Othello and Michael Cassio. When Cassio injures an opponent in a fight he is rebuked, punished, and subsequently ignored by Othello who must discipline him and teach him a lesson. Iago convinces Desdemona to intervene on Cassio's behalf and then begins to convince Othello that Desdemona is in love with Cassio.

This is actually one of the most difficult Shakespeare plays to watch because the audience sees the plot begin to unfold and is tormented by Othello's gradual decent into Iago's trap. As with other Shakespeare plays, the critical components of this one are revealed by language. When Othello is eventually convinced of Cassio's treachery, he condemns him and promotes Iago in his place. When Othello tells Iago that he has made him his lieutenant, Iago responds with the chilling line, "I am thine forever". To Othello this is a simple affirmation of loyalty, but to the audience, this phrase contains a double meaning. With these words, Iago indicates that the promotion does not provide him with sufficient satisfaction and that he will continue to torment and destroy Othello. It is his murderous intentions, not his loyal service that will be with Othello forever.

Iago's promotion provides him with closer proximity to Othello and provides him with more of his victim's trust. From here Iago is easily able to persuade Othello of Desdemona's purported infidelity. Soon Othello begins to confront Desdemona who naturally protests her innocence. In another revealing statement, Othello demands that Desdemona give him "the ocular proof". Like Iago's earlier statement, this one contains a double meaning that is not apparent to the recipient but that is very clear to the audience who understands the true origin of Othello's jealousy. Othello's jealousy is an invisible enemy and it is also based on events that never took place. How can Desdemona give Othello visual evidence of her innocence if her guilt is predicated on accusations that have no true shape or form? She can't. Othello is asking Desdemona to do the impossible, which means that her subsequent murder is only a matter of course.

I know that to a lot of young people this play must seem dreadfully boring and meaningless. One thing you can keep in mind is that the audience in Shakespeare's time did not have the benefit of cool things such as movies, and videos. The downside of this is that Shakespeare's plays are not visually stimulating to an audience accustomed to today's entertainment media. But the upside is that since Shakespeare had to tell a complex story with simple tools, he relied heavily on an imaginative use of language and symbols. Think of what it meant to an all White audience in a very prejudiced time to have a Black man at the center of a play. That character really stood out-almost like an island. He was vulnerable and exposed to attitudes that he could not perceive directly but which he must have sensed in some way.

Shakespeare set this play in two locations, Italy and Cypress. To an Elizabethan audience, Italy represented an exotic place that was the crossroads of many different civilizations. It was the one place where a Black man could conceivably hold a position of authority. Remember that Othello is a mercenary leader. He doesn't command a standing army and doesn't belong to any country. He is referred to as "the Moor" which means he could be from any part of the Arab world from Southern Spain to Indonesia. He has no institutional or national identity but is almost referred to as a phenomenon. (For all the criticism he has received in this department, Shakespeare was extrordinarlily attuned to racism and in this sense he was well ahead of his time.) Othello's subsequent commission as the Military Governor of Cypress dispatches him to an even more remote and isolated location. The man who stands out like an island is sent to an island. His exposure and vulnerability are doubled just as a jealous and murderous psychopath decides to destroy him.

Iago is probably the only one of Shakespeare's villains who is evil in a clinical sense rather than a human one. In Kind Lear, Edmund the bastard hatches a murderous plot out of jealousy that is similar to Iago's. But unlike Iago, he expresses remorse and attempts some form of restitution at the end of the play. In the Histories, characters like Richard III behave in a murderous fashion, but within the extreme, political environment in which they operate, we can understand their motives even if we don't agree with them. Iago, however, is a different animal. His motives are understandable up to the point in which he destroys Michael Cassio but then they spin off into an inexplicable orbit of their own. Some have suggested that Iago is sexually attracted to Othello, which (if its true) adds another meaning to the phrase "I am thine forever". But even if we buy the argument that Iago is a murderous homosexual, this still doesn't explain why he must destroy Othello. Oscar Wilde once wrote very beautifully of the destructive impact a person can willfully or unwittingly have on a lover ("for each man kills the things he loves") but this is not born out in the play. Instead, Shakespeare introduces us to a new literary character-a person motivated by inexplicable evil that is an entity in itself. One of the great ironies of this play is that Othello is a character of tragically visible proportions while Iago is one with lethally invisible ones.

Othello relects the true meaning of a tragedy both in its content and its structure.Tragedy is 'a story of exceptional calamity produced by human actions, leading to the death of a man in high estate.'The downfall of Othello is caused by his own actions, rather than by his character, or rather the two work in unison to create the stage for his downfall.
This is what captured my attention when I read this play.It is very profound to realize the fact that Shakespeare uses Iago to set this stage on which Othello is a mere player.
I love the character of Iago. His total confidence, the superiority that he feels when psychoanalysing human nature, his rational thinking and intellectualism sways the reader to think: 'Wow, this is a compelling and sophisticated man we're dealing with here!'
However, my admiration of Iago does not in anyway undermine my love of Othello. His poetic and calm demeanor makes the reader feel the pity and terror for him when he falls from grace (catharsis). Yet, we are made to understand that the reason why he is made to appear a gullible and ignorant fool to some readers is that he does not have any knowledge of a delicate, domesticated life. Venetian women were foreign to him. This tragic flaw in Othello added to the circumstances used by Iago to destroy him.
The meaning, and hence the tragedy of the play is conveyed through the use of Shakespeare's language, style, literary devices and imagery. Without these dramatic effects, readers would never be able to enjoy the play as much, although the dialogue is at times difficult to decipher.
I thoroughly enjoyed Othello and it is my hope that more people find it enticing as I have. I would be delighted to contribute more of my reviews to that effect.

One of the things you can assume when you write about Shakespeare--given the hundreds of thousands of pages that have already been written about him in countless books, essays, theses and term papers--is that whatever you say will have been said before, and then denounced, defended , revised and denounced again, ad infinitum. So I'm certain I'm not breaking any new ground here. King Lear, though many, including David Denby (see Orrin's review of Great Books) and Harold Bloom consider it the pinnacle of English Literature, has just never done much for me. I appreciate the power of the basic plot--an aging King divides his realm among his ungrateful children with disastrous results--which has resurfaced in works as varied as Jane Smiley's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, A Thousand Acres (see Orrin's review), and Akira Kurosawa's last great film, Ran. But I've always found the play to be too busy, the characters to be too unsympathetic, the speeches to be unmemorable and the tragedy to be too shallow. By shallow, I mean that by the time we meet Lear he is already a petulant old man, we have to accept his greatness from the word of others. Then his first action in the play, the division of the kingdom, is so boneheaded and his reaction to Cordelia so selfishly blind, that we're unwilling to credit their word.

Then there's the fact that Shakespeare essentially uses the action of the play as a springboard for an examination of madness. The play was written during the period when Shakespeare was experimenting with obscure meanings anyway; add in the demented babble of several of the central characters, including Lear, and you've got a drama whose language is just about impossible to follow. Plus you've got seemingly random occurrences like the disappearance of the Fool and Edgar's pretending to help his father commit suicide. I am as enamored of the Bard as anyone, but it's just too much work for an author to ask of his audience trying to figure out what the heck they are all saying and what their actions are supposed to convey. So I long ago gave up trying to decipher the whole thing and I simply group it with the series of non-tragic tragedies (along with MacBeth, Hamlet, Julius Caesar), which I think taken together can be considered to make a unified political statement about the importance of the regular transfer of power in a state. Think about it for a moment; there's no real tragedy in what happens to Caesar, MacBeth, Hamlet or Lear; they've all proven themselves unfit for rule. Nor are the fates of those who usurp power from Caesar, Hamlet and Lear at all tragic, with the possible exception of Brutus, they pretty much get what they have coming to them. Instead, the real tragedy lies in the bloody chain of events that each illegitimate claiming of power unleashes. The implied message of these works, when considered as a unified whole, is that deviance from the orderly transfer of power leads to disaster for all concerned. (Of particular significance to this analysis in regards to King Lear is the fact that it was written in 1605, the year of the Gunpowder Plot.)

In fact, looking at Lear from this perspective offers some potential insight into several aspects of the play that have always bothered me. For instance, take the rapidity with which Lear slides into insanity. This transition has never made much sense to me. But now suppose that Lear is insane before the action of the play begins and that the clearest expression of his loss of reason is his decision to shatter his own kingdom. Seen in this light, there is no precipitous decline into madness; the very act of splitting up the central authority of his throne, of transferring power improperly, is shown to be a sign of craziness.

Next, consider the significance of Edgar's pretense of insanity and of Lear's genuine dementia. What is the possible meaning of their wanderings and their reduction to the status of common fools, stripped of luxury and station? And what does it tell us that it is after they are so reduced that Lear's reason (i.e. his fitness to rule) is restored and that Edgar ultimately takes the throne. It is probably too much to impute this meaning to Shakespeare, but the text will certainly bear the interpretation that they are made fit to rule by gaining an understanding of the lives of common folk. This is too democratic a reading for the time, but I like it, and it is emblematic of Shakespeare's genius that his plays will withstand even such idiosyncratic interpretations.

To me, the real saving grace of the play lies not in the portrayal of the fathers, Lear and Gloucester, nor of the daughters, but rather in that of the sons. First, Edmund, who ranks with Richard III and Iago in sheer joyous malevolence. Second, Edgar, whose ultimate ascent to the throne makes all that has gone before worthwhile. He strikes me as one of the truly heroic characters in all of Shakespeare, as exemplified by his loyalty to his father and to the King. I've said I don't consider the play to be particularly tragic; in good part this is because it seems the nation is better off with Edgar on the throne than with Lear or one of his vile daughters.

Even a disappointing, and often bewildering, tragedy by Shakespeare is better than the best of many other authors (though I'd not say the same of his comedies.) So of course I recommend it, but I don't think as highly of it as do many of the critics.

GRADE : B-

This star-rating system has one important flaw: you have to rank books only in relation to its peers, its genre. So you must put five stars in a great light-humor book, as compared to other ones of those. Well, I am giving this book four stars in relation to other Shakespeare's works and similar great books.

Of course, it's all in the writing. Shakespeare has this genius to come up with magnificent, superb sentences as well as wise utterings even if the plot is not that good.

This is the case with Lear. I would read it again only to recreate the pleasure of simply reading it, but quite frankly the story is very strange. It is hard to call it a tragedy when you foolishly bring it about on yourself. Here, Lear stupidly and unnecessarily divides his kingdom among his three daughters, at least two of them spectacularly treacherous and mean, and then behaves exactly in the way that will make them mad and give them an excuse to dispose of him. What follows is, of course, a mess, with people showing their worst, except for poor Edgar, who suffers a lot while being innocent.

Don't get me wrong: the play is excellent and the literary quality of Shakespeare is well beyond praise. If you have never read him, do it and you'll see that people do not praise him only because everybody else does, but because he was truly good.

The plot is well known: Lear divides the kingdom, then puts up a stupid contest to see which one of his daughters expresses more love for him, and when Cordelia refuses to play the game, a set of horrible treasons and violent acts begins, until in the end bad guys die and good guys get some prize, at a terrible cost.

As a reading experience, it's one of the strongest you may find, and the plot is just an excuse for great writing.

This book is a profound study of nature. Characters such as Lear, Gloucester, and Edmund voice their opinions and questions on the subject of fate, the gods, human nature, and relationships between parents and children. I personally love Edgar, and think that he made this play great. He's as loyal to his father and Lear as Kent and Cordelia, but more creative and effective in his action. I believe that he was Shakespeare's favorite character too, because of his talent as an actor (as evidenced by his mad act and the cliff scene) and because he survives in the end! Shakespeare poses many questions of human, parental, and divine nature in this play, and some are resolved, but not all. Are we to the gods or nature as flies to wanton boys? We must all decide which opinion is right.