I had the pleasure of being presented this book from the Author himself, during one of his stays in Italy. The reader is really taken by the history of a Soldier(a Captain of US Navy) who, throughout the dreadful experience of the captivity in Vietnam is supported only by a deep, very hard to find, sense of Duty. A great lesson for all the generations to come and a great tribute to all people "who paid the price of Vietnam"(from Preface) - Vincenzo DE ROS

The Human Record: Sources of Global History is an excellent introduction for History students in analyzing and discussing primary source material. The editors have selected not only the most interesting but also the most useful sources in World History. Selections range from the Epic of Gilgamesh, The Book of Genesis, Code of Hammurabi, the Analects, Bhagavad Gita, etc. The only critque I have is that some of the selections are rather short but if used in conjunction with a text book like Traditions and Encounters: A Global Perspective on the Past, and other supplemental material this book will prove beneficial to instructors and students of any World History course. cdeluca@citrus.ucr.edu

This is an important collections of texts by Wittgenstein. For those interested in Wittgenstein and ethics, the lecture on ethics printed here may be significant. This book also contains Wittgenstein's remarks on Frazer's Golden Bough, which is important when one wants to understand Wittgenstein's views on religion and culture. However, the most important thing here is probably some remarks printed under the heading "Philosophy", where Wittgenstein spells out his views on philosophy. If one wants to get a clear grasp on the later Wittgenstein's view on philosophy, this piece is very important. The reader will recognize passages from Philosophical Investigations, but here Wittgenstein's philosophical therapy is stated even more clearly than in the Investigations.

This is a great book. If you like contemporary poetry, you'll really appreciate Haug's gifts for storytelling, language, and character -- so vivid the people and places come alive. Though the poems seem rooted in realism -- from scenes of junkyards to suburban developments -- a sense of mystery and spirituality are there, too, transporting readers. The book was worth the price just for "Garage Songs." an anthem to rock 'n' roll so original it stayed with me for days.

Dreiser is best known for "An American Tragedy," which to my taste is one of the most boring books ever written. But Sister Carrie is a classic in the best sense of the word.

Dreiser draws the reader back in time to turn of the century America, and immerses him completely in the hopes, fears, desires, and mores of that lost time. The now fading archetype of the travelling salesman as the dangerously seductive dandy despoiling virtuous young women comes to life here.

Sound corny? Not in the least. Because Dreiser gets inside these people's heads, and they're just as interesting as anyone gracing the pages of People Magazine.

The novel starts with a timeless theme, young girl goes to the big city and gets seduced by smooth travelling salesman. Every made for TV movie variation on this theme nowadays reduces this to a morality tale to warn young viewers.

Not Dreiser. He turns this into what I'd argue is one of the first and least politically tainted feminist novels of the 20th century. Buy this book. It'll cost you half of the newest John Grisham or Stephen King novel, you'll be solidly entertained with page turning excitement, and you can brag to all your friends about the classic you just finished.

I found this novel very intriguing and moving. The symbols and representations are very analytical. "Sister Carrie" causes one to think twice about oneself, and to reconsider one's own definition of true happiness and success. It shows one how society can influence one to think in the manner in which one does. The characters face good times and bad times and experience true tests of strength and survival. The results are both well developed and interesting to discover. It is difficult to put the book down. When reading this novel one must understand the sybolism and look deep into the context to acquire the meanings of it. Another interesting fact about this novel is that Theodore Dreiser actually wrote the novel in the year 1900. I am a junior in high school and I strongly recomend the reading of this novel to anyone.

Living an average middle-class life, I have always wondered how the very rich and the very poor get where they are. Sister Carrie is a beautifully written and fascinating tale of how one climbs and descends the social ladder of life. I am aware that some readers have criticized this book stating that Dreiser did not develop the characters very well and that Carrie was not very likeable. Well, it is my thought that Dreiser never intended for us to become solely wrapped within the characters. He meant for us to become enveloped in the circumstance. The two main characters, Carrie and Hurstwood, are truly victims of circumstance - Carrie's never-ending unhappiness and Hurstwood's downward spiral. As we go through life, there are so many events and choices that will guide our lives to what they are. When one stops and thinks about this, it is really quite fascinating. I believe Dreiser r was aware of this aspect of life and he wanted to write a novel that would effect the lives of everyone who reads it. I read the entire book in 3 days. I simply could not put it down. I recommend Sister Carrie to everyone. It will leave you thinking and thinking and thinking.

The astonishing thing about this book -- and a lot of Henry James's writing -- is his insight into the problems of women. This book deals with the problem of independence and freedom. Most of us, let's admit it, love the idea of being swept off our feet by some competent, assertive male. It's a real turn-on. If you don't believe it, check out how many successful professional women secretly read historical romances by the boxload. The problem comes the next morning when he starts to take control, bit by bit, of your entire life. In this book you have Olive, who is not, I think, a lesbian but someone who is very lonely and doesn't trust men and Verena, who likes men just fine, but is, for the moment anyway, under the spell of Olive and her feminist ideology. Are these our only options? Verena Makes her choice, but James notes that the tears she sheds may not, unhappily, be her last.

Though James is certainly not known for his sense of humor, he displays a keen sense of satire in this novel. The two senses are not identical--many readers expect satire to make them laugh out loud, and those readers will be disappointed in this book. James' satire is more likely to make readers feel uncomfortable. He repeatedly mocks the two main characters and their struggle to control a young woman who hardly seems worth the effort that these two egoists put into her pursuit. James allows Olive Chancellor and Basil Ransom (whose names evoke the satiricomic tradition in which he is writing) to take themselves seriously while allowing the readers to see them as stereotypes. While satire depends on such stereotypes, James' fiction typically delves into the psychological. At times, he is able to keep this balance, but often the tension is too great and the characters seem to fall flat. Verena Tarrant--the object of Olive and Basil's affection--is virtually absent psychologically (as others have noted), but her lack of character is built into the novel. She begins as her father's possession, and the novel hinges on whether Olive or Basil get to own her next. While the novel is certainly not without faults, it is interesting to watch a novelist as self-conscious as James attempt to write a novel of this type. While he wasn't destined to become a comic genius, this novel is a step toward the psychological, satirical and comic success he was to have in a novel such as "The Ambassadors."

This is the high point of the Henry James middle period. I don't think any book so perfectly captures the spirit of a city than The Bostonians does. It's obvious that James is critical of the people of Boston, and has great fun with a great era (spirituality, free love, communal living, feminism, and seances in the post-Civil War America), yet at the same time, I think this is a great description (and a truthful one) of the home of the eban and the cod. The battle between Olive Chancellor and Basil Ransom for the soul of the very confused spiritualist speaker Verena Tarrant (Ah, those Jamesian names again!)is not only powerfully doen, but I think this book has much more humor in it than Portrait of a Lady does. (Although, this does not diminish either work in the least.) I could speak all day about this book, and given a chance I will. But I urge you to take a chance on it. I was Massachusetts born and raised..but out in the Western end of the state, and we tend to feel Bostonians sometimes think a bit too well of themselves. Apparently, over 100 years ago, things were the same. There is so much more to this book, read it, and realize that we, at the beginning of a new millenium, are hardly as progressive or as innovative as we like to think we are.

Of course, the greatest irony of this book comes not within its pages, but when you visit the grave of the James family. Henry James ashes were interred in the ground on the family plot, and now and forever, the family plot looks not upon the city of New York, or the expanses of Europe, but rather, Henry James, for all eternity, is facing th city of Boston. e

A mixture of paganism and anticatholicism which unsuccessfully tries to prove the superiority of the Aryan race. Even Rosenberg's boss Hitler couldn't get through it, and never took Rosenberg very seriously. But if you want to fall asleep, just read a couple of pages.

To say Myth of The Twentieth Century is hard to find is a gross understatement. One can find Mein Kampf everywhere. This i believe is due to Mein Kampf's ponderous size, and general incomprehensibility. Myth is concise, readable, and the product of a truly brillant writer. The only man at nuremburg hanged for writing a book. I find it amusing that everyone that attacks Rosenberg's views reverts to ad hominium attacks, ie name calling. If you can find this book BUY IT, READ IT, APPLY IT. At least read it on line. Worth the time and effort and eye strain.

I have read the anonymous review of Rosenberg's pre-nazi book. Why is there no signature? This review obviously emanates from a neo-Nazi, since everybody serious knows that Rosenberg was the theorician of the Third Reich. Amazon must demand signatures from their reviewers. Bruno Chaouat, Assistant Professor of French, Berea College

This is a difficult book to read. Rosenberg, the official philospher of the Third Reich might well represent the sterile intellectualism of Nazi Germany: an unreadable philosophy unread by almost all party members including the Fuhrer himself! Given the limitations of Rosenberg's obscure style Professor Whisker has done a remarkable job. However, there are problems: including typographical errors and repeating entire sections using different translations. For example: "Europe the custodian of crippled, misfits, criminal..." On page 169 (in MYTH OF THE 20th CENTURY) is quoted on page 125 and again restated on page 141. This constant repetition of the same ideas in slightly different contexts is rather tiresome. Also, Professor Whisker's use of one simple sentence after another disturbs the flow of ideas and is a bit disconcerting. On the other side, is the mastering of complex and obscure references found in the arcane foundations of the Rosenberg philosophy. Professor Whisker gently guides the reader through such historical oddities as the Bogomili, Paulician, cathar and gnostic heresies, manichaenism; the German mystic Meister Eckhart; the Roman Martyr Justin and others. In these mental minefields the references are clear, concise and a credit to the author's professional background. Equally important is the expert handling of Houston Chamberlain and the Bayreuth Circle(did not influence Hitler's ideas as much as they ran parallel with them); Ravenscroft's occult Grail ideas; THE PROTOCOLS OF ZION; along with the philosophy of Frederich Neitzche. In fact, the careful explainations of Rosenberg's sources is the most valuable in understanding the Nazi mind. Rosenberg wanted a German theology by eliminating the entire Old Testament, the Pauline writings and all the gospels save St. John, in order to construct an Aryan Christianity, a Nazi religion. Selectively misreading Nietzche, Christianity would be a racist political religion with the Fuhrer as infallible pope. The Decalogue, Beatitutides-in fact anything that most Christians accept, including sacraments, creeds confessions, symbols and univeralism would be ruthlessly discarded. The bloody twisted cross with contempt for all people but Germans... following Nietzsche in (see section 14 in the third essay of THE GENEALOGY OF MORALS) no pity or compassion for the weak, the Aryan race would face God as an equal. An entire race of saints that would, under the mandate of God and Fuhrer, ruthlessly crush anyone in their way to an Aryan Utopia... Germanic Heaven on Earth!

I have never read anything by Rosenberg and I find this book to be a great introduction. I had never imagined the man was such a learned intellectual. I found the book highly interesting and intellectually stimulating, even though I don't agree with Rosenberg's heterodox Christianity and focus on the Nordic race (of which I am not a member). Prof. Whisker (who has degrees in philosophy and history) introduces first Rosenberg's life. Strangely without mention or discussion of the Jewishness of his name, this ancestry seems relevant given Rosenberg's views on Jewish thought) and gives an overview of his ideas. Then the books deals at length with Rosenberg's analyses of religion, society, anthropology, etc. and his visions on these subjects.

I found it very interesting to learn that unlike Goebbels and Hitler (Roman Catholics) or Himmler (Hindu) Rosenberg had rejected his Lutheran background to espouse Gnosticism. He followed the 19th century theologians in seeing Jesus as not being a Jew (a view that disappeared, except in a few books such as Prof. Connner's Christ was not a Jew or Mohr's Thank God my savior was not a Jew.) Rosenberg saw St. Paul as the Jewish corruptor of Christianity, had a metaphysical dualist worldview, which, combined to his exposures of Old Testament problems, lead him to delve and favour dualist religions (such as Zarathustra's or Mani's) and support heterodox Christianity (Marcionism, Gnosticism and esp. Catharism) and had special views on the Holy Grail. This book taught me a lot about all these religions, as well as Rosenberg's favorite theologians, the Church Father St. Justin and the medieval philosopher Meister Eckhart. He saw himself as a new reformer against the theological oppression of the Roman Catholic Church and saw this church as a danger for the survival of the white race, and envisioned a Nordic Christianity, with emphasis on rural life so Germanic people would remain virtuous and also tight to their soil, their homeland in Central Europe.

And the book goes on with the philosophy of Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Richard Wagner (Parsifal and the again the Grail), Jacob Burckhart... the anthropology of Gobineau and Chamberlain, his antithesis between the Nordics and the Jews, etc. Many things I cannot summarize in this review.

Prof. Whisker exposes Rosenberg's ideology, without criticizing it positively or negatively. In general I prefer a critical exposition, but in this case I don't mind as I prefer this to politically correct bashing and intolerance (as I could expect for someone like Rosenberg!) There are a few typing mistakes in the book, but I did not find this a problem, the more because I know no other books that deal so much with Rosenberg's worldview. This book is probably not be appropriate for readers without notions (or interest) in philosophy or theology, although a few allusions to recent culture (e. g. the Arthurian movie Excalibur) may help those readers.

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 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

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