Gunner With Stonewall is a typical and valuable first hand account of life in wartime. Filled with intersting atecdotes and personal details, it is closer in perspective to Henry Kyd Douglas' "I Rode With Stonewall" than Foote's or Catton's histories on the same period. This lends and air of timelessness and similarity with WWII- and Vietnam-era first -hand accounts. Written many years after the fact, the book contains some minor innaccuracies ultimately clarified by the Editor. All in all, considering the dirth of books about Confederate Army Artillery, it is a good read that diserves a place on the historian's bookshelf.

Poague reminds me of Porter Alexander in his occasionally acerbic tone and his willingness to tell it like he thinks it is with regards to generals and their foibles. Maybe it's an artillery thing. Also like Alexander, he's refreshingly bloodthirsty -- no Gordon-esque blandishments about chivalry here. His account of the death of Federal Gen. Kearny contrasts interestingly with other accounts I've read, and his description of the surrender at Appomattox is particularly evocative.

The writter forgot that this was a book about a mountaineer. This could have been an exciting, inspiring book about a great climber and instead its a book about someone's ramblings since other more interesting books were apparently already written

Robert Roper has written a gripping account of one of mountain climbing's most charismastic figures, Willi Unsoeld. "Fatal Mountaineer" will appeal both to mountaineering and adventure enthusiasts and to any serious reader looking for a wrenching drama set in an exquisite landscape.

Framed by the story of Unsoeld's eventual demise in an avalanche on Mt Rainier, the centerpiece of the book is the detailed narrative of a fateful ascent of Nanda Devi, India's tallest mountain, by a group of elite climbers. Roper carefully dissects the tensions that emerge from Day One of the expediton between the hard-charging, summit-oriented alpha males of the pack and those sympathetic to the transcendental, growth-oriented perspective of Unsoeld. Included among this latter contingent is Devi Unsoeld, who was named after this mythopoetic mountain, and tragically becomes, or merges with, its resident goddess.

Roper's writing is crisp and nuanced, and he is able to bring an immediacy to events he has reconstructed from multiple and often contradictory or sanitized versions of events. Within the first chapters, I felt as though I were in the tent debating whether an ill member of the team, and thus potentially the weakest link (it does not help that this particular climber is also a woman)should make the trek or head back to base camp.

Roper tells not only the outward bound story of a mountain-climbing expedition but also draws us within the psyches of the characters, explicating the motives behind this most enigmatic of human undertakings.

I would urge readers to go out any buy this book before the Spring thaw.

Roper's mixture of first-rate journalism and top-notch story telling make this thrilling and tragic biography of mountaineer Willi Unsoeld unfold with page-turning immediacy. The use of the present tense and the beauty of the descriptive writing make the reader feel as though he is on each expedition. As one life-and-death scenario after another unfolds, the story never becomes sensationalized, and the medical and technical information is always handled clearly. This is a fascinating look at a subculture rife with egos, infighting and betrayals, in which Unsoeld emerges as a true hero for our time. As Roper explores what, exactly, mountaineers are after and what, if anything, they owe the rest of us, Unsoeld's life ultimately serves as a microcosm for the history of mountaineering, and for man's place on the planet. But this isn't just a guy's guy book; it also explores and celebrates the role of women mountaineers, such as Unsoeld's beautiful and spirited daughter, Devi, who's remarkable relationship with her father and heartbreaking demise make this an unforgettable read.

The title of Truman and Pendergast implys that there is some meaningful and new knowledge regarding the relationship between these two men. This is simply not the case. There is very little about that relationship but rather a rehash of frequently publish information in other bios. This book, while it may be well written, adds nothing to the pile of information already out there. Three-percent of this very short book explored the relationship and ninety-seven percent was about the difficulties experienced by Truman because of the stigma of the relationship. Nothing new. If you want to read some great bios on Truman read TRUMAN by McCullough or MAN OF THE PEOPLE by Hamby.

Robert H. Ferrell's "Truman and Pendergast" is a fine addition to the ever increasing pantheon of written history of our 33rd (32nd) president. Ferrell focuses on a period which, until now, has not been the main focus of any Truman biography. The author paints a vivid picture of the necessary evils one faces when choosing a life in public service while maintaining one's own countenance. Ferrell centralizes his work on several main points, beginning with the initial years of Truman's political career when it was necessary for the backing of Pendergast (especially in the political machine controlled era of the earlier part of the century) and culminating with Truman's Senate re-election campaign of 1940. These main points bookend a gradual separation of Truman and Pendergast, as Truman ascends in stature and Pendergast descends into a downward spiral culminating in his incarceration in a federal penitentiary. Throughout the course of the book Ferrell maintains an anecdotal style of storytelling, which allows the reader to gain deeper insight into a very different period of political history then we find in today's day and age. "Truman and Pendergast" is a must-have for any student of Truman, as well as an excellent addition to the history of politics of the early 1900s.