from the viewpoint of eyewitnesses. Although it is fiction: the message is clear, strong & real ..."rumors of impending war", "rumors of peace", "newly sealed alliances" - the story begins. Kadare's use of natural imagery & language is phenomenal. You understand how the anxiety of the mountain people adds to the tensions of political alliances, the ancient memories of past battles won & lost is ever present, as strummed on the gusle & sung by the bards. The Turks, Serbs & Bulgarians (Byzantine empire) and other peoples, kingdoms once existed in cohesion ... but with rumours & past memories inflaming emotions: the inevitable occurs. THIS IS ONE GREAT EPIC: told in about 120 pages!!!! AMAZING! Erika B.

I am a fan of Kadare's and recomend all his books, this one in particular. What beautiful language and powerful image. This is also one of the few books of his that was translated directly from the Albanian, and not from the French, which is important too. We see Kosovo from a completely different angle, as a Serb and an Albanian are thrown together by fate during a medieval battle. The book is full of superb surprises.

Excellent. A poetry of the Balkan turmoil.

Ably edited and translated into English from the Albanian by Henry Israeli and others, and enhanced with an informed and informative introduction Peter Constantine, the poetry by Luljeta Lleshanaku compiled in Fresco: Selected Poetry offers a voice that is clear, strong, and remarkably apolitical for someone who whose family were brutally oppressed during decades of Albanian communist regimes. Yearly Snow: In this city the yearly snow/leaning on sparse, lonesome trees/doesn't mean a thing./It signifies nothing more/than the meandering of a veteran/leaning on a wooden crutch.//The same war story told a hundred times/the same brand of cigarette distributed by friendly hands/and those same eyes hovering, dark and lazy./Only that. And the dry rhythmic knocking/until his silhouette disappears/amidst the shadows cast down by rooftops/their melting snow dripping/in terrible slowness...

How to make poetry out of the nightmare of recent Albanian history? Luljeta Lleshanaku explores some of the ways in which public and private realms of experience meet and merge, in poems that haunt and delight in equal measures. What was once forbidden now comes into sharp focus, as in the mingling of philosophy, erotic memory, and religious imagery in the title poem, Fresco.

The Undiscovered Chekhov is a compilation of superbly crafted short stories by the Russian literary master writer Anton Chekhov (1860-1904), drawn from his work in the 1880s when he was a young man in his twenties. These witty and original short stories are very ably translated for an American readership by Peter Constantine, who discovered these literary gems in the New York Public Library while browsing through old magazines in the Slavic and Baltic division. The Undiscovered Chekhov is a "must" for Chekhov enthusiasts and an essential, core addition to all academic and public library Russian literature collections.

The only elements holding these 43 pieces together are (a) they are short and (b) they are earlier works of Chekhov. They include character sketches, experimental literature, humor, groups of aphorisms ... all done with great wit and excellent writing. The translation is very readable; there is no sense of reading foreign syntax.

Examples of pieces in the book: "First Aid" is a short story in which the inepitude of the civil service/nobility kills a drunk "drowning" victim through folk medicine (tossing on a rug) and vague "CPR" instructions.

"From the Diary of an Assistant Bookkeeper" is a tale of perpetual hope of promotion based on the demise of the current bookkeeper given in the form of a diary.

"Questions Posed by a Mad Mathematician" presents the worst fears for a mathmatics test. Example: "I was chased by 30 dogs, 7 of which were white, 8 gray, and the rest black. Which of my legs was bitten, the right or the left?"

"Confession - or Olya, Zhenya, Zoya: A Letter" is a bachelor's explanation of why he has never married - the disasters (from hiccups up) that have foiled each proposal.

The remaining pieces are as diverse and entertaining. The pieces are the best of over 400 short pieces available from the early period. Even if you don't generally read Russian literature you will enjoy these pieces.

This book is not only a superb source of practical information for professionals working with patients afflicted with dementia, memory loss, and/or Alzheimer's, but it is also a great source of hope and inspiration to the patients' relatives and caregivers. The blend of expert advice with compassionate care motivates me to highly recommend this book. I think all people involved with caring for those with dementia will benefit from reading this excellent book.

In these overlooked early stories, the great German Novelist Thomas Mann, best know for his novella Death in Venice, and his massive novel, Magic Mountain (set in Switzerland), experiments with the character of the sensitive (sometimes sickly) artist skittering on the outskirts, or being powerfully pulled in, to romantic and philosophical infatuation. Said to mark the introduction of psychology into romantic fiction, the stories (such as Fallen, 1898, and The Will to Happiness, 1896) were written in the so-called Gay Nineties (the 1890s)--the decade which took with it Oscar Wilde and Friedrich Nietzsche. In these short stories Mann is playful but works with a precociously masterful touch. His themes are romance, deception, and the limitations of previous literary convention. In one story a desirable actress turns out to be a prostitute, in another a homely woman admired for her mind turns down the artist after he changes his about her desirability,and in perhaps the most powerful story, a most desirable spouse is revealed to be the exact opposite--perhaps. Nietzsche's preoccupation with surfaces, the infinite artistic allure of deception, and the gulf separating the outside world from that of the human mind are deftly handled in these early stories by an acknowledged master of the fictional form.

'The Undiscovered Chekhov' is a real tressure for Chekhov lovers. This is a collection of 38 stories previously untranslated to English-speaking readers. The original stories published in Russian magazines while Chekhov was studying medicine at Moscow University in the 1880s represent new angles in many ways. They provide great insights into young Chekhov's talents as an innovative and a gifted writer. Secondly, they represent Chekhov's early experimentations with narratives and techniques even before he became well known as a master craftsman of modern short stories. Thirdly, the stories translated by a gifted translator provide an excellent historical account of Chekhov's contemporary Russia.

As Peter Constantine records in his introduction the discovery of the original Russian stories at the New York Public Library is also an interesting story. The introduction provides an excellent background to the Chekhov's life, his techniques as well as background to some of the stories.

This collection is a rare gift for anyone who wants to know how a modern master story-teller had begun his career.

Hannah Arendt has had much of her correspondence published over the last decade or so. We have volumes of her correspodence with Karl Jaspers, Mary McCarthy, Kurt Blumenfeld, and Martin Heidegger, among others. But these letters between Arendt and husband Heinrich Blucher stand out as the finest volume yet published. Whereas in the other volumes we see Arendt as student, friend, confidant, teacher, philosopher, intellectual, in these letters with Blucher we see Arendt as intimate confidant, vulnerable lover, and supportive wife. Heinrich Blucher was the one person to whom she could reveal herself, with whom she dropped her guard. The confidence was mutual as well; in Blucher's letters to Hannah we see his hopes, frustrations, trepidations, and above all, his devoted attachment to her hopes, needs and ambitions. Two people for whom the other was much more than a spouse or lover: someone in whom to take refuge in dark times.

The letters begin in 1936, shortly after Arendt and Blucher met in Paris, to which both escaped from Berlin in 1933: she after a short prison term for illegal Zionist activity, and he as a member of the German Communist Party, fleeing via Prague. At the time they met she was 29 and he 37. Both were married, but not to each other. They would not marry until 1940, shortly after their divorces became final.

Their first letters set the tone. Interspersed with intellectual and political affairs are their feelings for each other and their doubts and a lasting commitment can be achieved. IT grows from there, in all aspects, intellectual and emotional. When Arendt reproaches Blucher for not sticking to their letter-writing schedule, she tells him that she cannot continue to careen like a car wheel that has come off, "without a single connection to home or anything I can rely on."

They also discuss mutual friends such as Karl Jaspers, Mary McCarthy, Alfred Kazin, and Martin Heidegger (whose relationship over the years with Arendt can only be described as ambivilent), holding nothing back and giving the reader a rare glimpse into their intellectual and social world, a glimpse one can only imagine in a formal biography of the two. As no one writes letters anymore, this is a most valuable look into an intellectual time and world as distant from our cyber-present as last century's history.

Worth your time and money? Yes - in every sense of the word.

I love this book! It is well written and an honest account of what went on in the Nazi SS. I don't know why anyone would make up a rumor that it is a fake. I wrote to the publisher of the first English translation, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, to make sure, and they confirmed it is a true autobiography. The manuscript was passed by Peter's family in 1956 to Editions France-Empire, who published the first copy in French under the title "SS". Editions France-Empire then passed it to Weidenfeld & Nicolson, who published the first English translation in the UK, "Other Men's Graves" in 1958. The translator, Constantine Fitz Gibbon, is himself a well-known historian. Peter Neumann's family specifically wanted the book kept intact as he wrote it during the war, and it was not revised in any way.

It's interesting to note the way in which people 60 years later are unwilling to believe an account of such unprecidented horror. This is exactly how people in the US and all over the world reacted during the war when they heard what was going on in Europe under the Nazis! No one wanted to believe it, but unfortunately it is all true.

Written with the style of a novelist, but with the realism derived from a combat verteran, it remains a classic of the Russo/German war. Sure the details about uniform insignia, and unit locations are not accurate, but the overall theme and useage of scene construction is first-rate. If you know your SS details as well as the unit locations and their fates, sit back and relax while the panarama of the Ostfront comes alive. Would make a great movie-but no one in Hollywood would have the guts to produce it.

As an avid reader of military history, I've loved this book since a teen-ager, and read it, literally, dozens of times. I've often wondered what became of the author, so I'm very interested in what people know about the book purportedly being a fake. As an account of the brutal fighting on the Eastern Front, I believe it is unparalleled, with the exception being Sajer's "Forgotten Soldier." I did come across a hardcover version of this book. It was called "Other Men's Graves," by Claude Dauville. Could this shed light on the fabrication mystery?

A superbly written insider's look at the Russian revolution. Babel can convey the horrors of war with very few words. I enjoyed the best his sarcastic treatement of the bombastic communist rhetoric in such stories as "Salt" and "Treason" (maybe because I was exposed to it myself at one time).

I stumbled across Isaac Babel because of a single line quoted in Paul Johnson's "History of the Jews". And then I was forever hooked.

First, a caveat. Be sure you understand when reading Babel's short stories that you are not reading his autobiography or journal. He did in fact listen to our creative writing teachers; he wrote what he knew. He knew the Russian revolution. He knew the Cossacks. He knew war. He knew living inside and outside the pale. His world jumps off the page because he lived it first.

The stories contain autobiographical material, actively mixed with the yeast of fiction. Use this aspect of his writing to chase rabbits. Follow up this book with his biography or find out more about the Russian revolution. Both of those topics will make more sense after reading his collected stories.

As a writer, I stand in awe of Babel's stingy use of words. Some scenes are so hugely horrible that I would have been tempted to throw in appropriate adverbs and adjectives in an attempt to convince you, my reader, just how hugely horrible it really was. Babel simply tells the story, and you gasp when you are done, horrified when you peak through the keyhole (and I would have blasted a hole in the wall).

When you read Babel, you must be willing to go at the stories with an open mind, not expecting him to flatten the Commies, defend the Jews, or paint the picture the way you want him to. He will not do that, no matter how many times you try to make it so. You will hear no overtones of right or wrong, get no definitive answers about the people on either side of the Russian revolution.

For that, I am most grateful to Isaac Babel. Nothing about our world can be easily distilled into sharp black and white. His stories give us the real world in astounding color.

The frightfully ugly picture on the cover of this edition (what in the world were the publishers thinking?) might keep a lot of people away, but the few brave souls that look inside will find one of the great 20th century craftsmen of prose. I can't think of another writer than chooses his words more carefully, that can pack more into a single sentence. "Pierced by the flashes of the bombardment, night arches over the dying man." Single words can take your breath away - the choice of "arches" is the one that does it for me - but you'll probably have others. The brutality of the world he describes may seem foreign, but it never becomes oppressive, mainly because the writing is so good. The stories themselves are rather difficult to love - there is very little hope to latch on to, there are very few characters one can feel close to; there are very few real characters at all, except the narrator. Even under these horrific circumstances, though, Babel creates emotions than one can identify with - pride, love, lust, anger. He has a thorough understanding of human character. It is apparent that the circumstances of war don't create new emotions, they just amplify things we feel anyway.

This book is a necessary read for anyone that wants to learn how to write poetically without being florid, compress pages of description into a few words. This compression is one of the reasons that the stories stay in mind long after they've been read. Buy the book - or get the other edition in a used book store, so you don't have to look at that awful picture.

Babel is a great model for new writers in his ability to place "life on the page." This translation is as complete as they come and well translated for the contemporary American ear.

There were only a few Soviet writers who tried to tell the story exactly how it happened and Isaac Babel was on of these very few bright and brave men. His work deserves to be known, remembered, and the highest points.

Unfortunately I can't appreciate the Mr. Peter Constantine's english translation
I read Isaac Babel in russian
He is the one of my favorite short story writer
very good language, humor
I'm glad that english-speaking readers have opportunity
to meet Babel's wonderful stories