For those of us who have shared Peter McGarr's life and his many professional challenges as Chief Superintendent of the Murder Squad of the Garda Siochana in Dublin, this novel comes as worthy sequel to Death of an Irish Sinner and a satisfying farewell to McGarr and his associates, with whom we have shared personal and professional tribulations. With the death of Bartholomew Gill this past summer, this series is at an end, though three out-of-print and hard-to-find early McGarr mysteries are now scheduled for reprinting.

This novel takes place two years after Gill's previous novel, Death of an Irish Sinner, in which McGarr and his associates investigated Agnus Dei, an extremist Catholic group, and experienced profound changes in their personal lives as a result. Here we see how McGarr, Hugh Ward, and Ruthie Bresnahan have coped with their changed circumstances and how they have continued their lives. We also see the return of Charles Stewart Parnell Sweeney, an Agnus Dei supporter and tabloid owner whom McGarr believes is at the heart of much illegal activity in Dublin. Though this novel is fully able to stand on its own merits, those who have read "Sinner" first will more fully appreciate the intricacies and revelations in plot and character which this sequel provides.

Here McGarr and his squad are called to investigate the theft of the Book of Kells and two other illuminated manuscripts from their hermetically sealed cases at Trinity College. The manuscripts' importance in Irish Catholic culture, the history of the Celts before the arrival of Christian missionaries, and a growing political party called the New Druids, a gang of former IRA thugs involved in organized crime and the torching of churches, are well detailed and dramatically impact the exciting and unusual plot. Skinheads, the tabloid press and its excesses, the growing use of Oxycontin, and the political machinations of Irish politicians add contemporary complications to the efforts to retrieve the ancient manuscripts.

As always, McGarr remains a practical, no-nonsense investigator, willing to throw the niceties of procedure out the window, if necessary, to achieve justice. His loyal staff, familiar to McGarr fans, all appear here, and McGarr's obvious affection for them and for his daughter gives real warmth to this novel. As McGarr, wounded professionally, emotionally, and physically wraps up the case, the reader is left with the feeling that though the novels will not continue, that McGarr will continue to work his way out of difficulties, as always, and that, emotionally, he will be OK. After two years his nemesis has been destroyed, he has made some new friendships, and most tellingly, he has resumed work on his much-loved garden. Though I'm saddened that the series has ended, I'm confident that McGarr will endure. Mary Whipple

In Dublin, Trinity College Security Chief Raymond Sloan abets two felons in bypassing the protection afforded to one of Ireland's most precious treasures, the Book of Kells. The thieves take two of the four tomes plus two other priceless books and stuff their insider ally into the hermetically sealed vault so that Raymond dies from suffocation.

Chief Superintendent of Serious Crimes Unit Peter McGarr and his team work the murder investigation, but struggle with the interference of media darling Chief Superintendent Jack Sheard. The condescending Sheard provides news conferences that leave Peter in awkward situations. As the ransom becomes known, Peter believes that The New Druids, an anti Christianity group that blames that religion for destroying Ireland for over a millennium, is behind the theft and the murder. However, action must occur rather quickly as the group threatens to burn a page every day if they fail to receive the demanded cash.

This exciting police procedural works on several levels. First the obvious theft and murder investigation hooks the reader from the moment Raymond circumvents the security system. Second Peter's personal life is in shambles since the murder of his spouse two years ago seems on the verge of resuscitation due to a reporter and his daughter. Finally, the media comparison of darling Jack vs. pain in the butt Peter is quite a revelation as the former takes care of the press regardless of the impact on the victims while the latter considers the victims, his team, and the case over the journalists. Once again Bartholomew Gill humanizes his key cast so that sub-genre fans open the New Year with a triumph.

Harriet Klausner

As I read this play, my family is in the process of moving a thousand miles away from the farm where I grew up. Though I am so far away from the Russian culture and time of this play, the themes of place, tradition, and inevitable change resonated inside of me, and I am grateful to Chekhov for the way he has handled them.

The Cherry Orchard is a play about change, and the symbolism is pretty easy to recognize. What makes it stand apart, I think, from a thousand other plays on the same theme is its wonderful sense of comedy, of smiling sadness. Chekhov all his life insisted it was a comedy. As the Cherry Orchard slips away from the Ranevskys, they seem to smile at its going. As they are unable to change their habits -- still lending money they don't have, still spending extravagantly -- they quietly laugh at their own foolishness. The change comes, and they leave, heartbroken -- but embracing the change at the same time, only feebling struggling against it. One feels saddest, in the end, for Lopakhin, the new owner of the Cherry Orchard. He seems to believe he has bought happiness and friends, but is quickly discovering the emptiness of money and possessions, as no one wants to borrow from him, and no one seems to pay him much heed at all.

Chekhov paints with a fine brush, and I appreciate that. There is no thunderstorming, no ranting and raving in this work. There is a fine and subtle, sad and comedic portrayal of a family and a place encountering change. It is a heartbreak with a smile.

The translation, though the only one I've read, seems good. It is easy to follow and rich in simple feeling.

if you'd like to discuss this play with me, or recommend something i might enjoy, or just chat, e-mail me at williekrischke@hotmail.com.

The cherry orchard is symbolic of the old order in rural Russia, and Chekhov's short play illustrates the social transformation started in the 19th century in a simple and impressive manner. I find it interesting that one previous reviewer calls the Cherry Orchard an "effective allegory of the Bolshevik revolution", since it was written long before 1917. This goes to show exactly how in tune with his times Chekhov was. Character development is limited in this play as there are many roles and few pages, but we are introduced to the classic types also found in other pre-revolutionary Russian literature: the arriviste businessman, the radical escapist student, the obnoxious clerk, the nostalgic aristorcrat, the loyal peasant. In the play, Madame Ravensky leaves her good-for-nothing husband in Paris and returns to the family estate, which she owns with her brother Gayev. The economy of this aristocratic family is fledgling, but they are unable to change their spending patterns and accumstom themselves to a lower living standard. They are also unwilling to cut down the cherry orchard and use the land for villa development, as they are urged by the crude but business-savvy businessman Lopakhin. Lopakhin eventually buys their entire property at an auction, and the reality of the new age eventually dawns on everyone except the ancient servant who takes his last breath still repeating 'young wood, green wood'. An almost spooky dialogue occurs in the last act between Lopakhin and the radical student Trophimov, with the 20th century future of Russia clearly in the balance: work and money, represented by Lopakhin, is rejected by the young utopian idealist. In retrospect, this single scene gives a mind-boggling perspective on Russian history; and some sense of why Russia is still a barbarous country of 'dirt, vulgarity and boredom' as described by the disgruntled characters in Chekhov's play.

"How should one live?" is the fundamental question driving most of Chekhov's work, and it is very overtly laid bare in The Cherry Orchard. Should the aristocratic family in decline stick to owning their cherry orchard (representative of the grandiose trappings of Russian aristocracy), or give in to modern commercialization in order to survive? What is the value of tradition, and how many trees should one own? Chekhov will not answer these questions for you, but he poses them in most interesting ways. In addition to wise insights into such fundamental dilemmas, Chekhov also provides a lot of witty banter, and a great slice-of-life view at 19th century Russian high culture. But this is not just a Russian play or a 19th century play; its themes, questions, and prospective answers are relevant for individuals coping with society and history in any place, and at any time.

Investigating the 1984 murder of Mickalou Maugham, a Traveler well liked and admired for his gentleness of spirit and his playing of the uillean pipes, Chief Inspector Peter McGarr focuses on Desmond Bacon, known as the Toddler, who is the sadistic head of the drug trade in Ireland. Mickalou, missing for weeks, has been found dead at the top of a giant sequoia tree in County Wicklow, and Biddy Nevins, his wife, a former addict and sidewalk artist, has fled from Ireland, fearing both the Toddler and the possibility that one or more Garda members may be working with him. Twelve years later, Des Bacon catches up with her, and shootouts, home invasions, car chases, and a high body count result, as he tries to protect his turf and avoid prosecution.

As he does in the rest of this series, Gill develops stories on two levels--the immediate action and excitement of a specific mystery, focusing on some lesser known aspect of Irish life (in this case, the Traveler community), and the stories and relationships of his continuing cast of characters as they develop during the series. Ruthie Bresnahan and Hugh Ward, whose discovery of each other was a huge and often hilarious part of an earlier mystery (Death of a Joyce Scholar), have now had a years-long relationship, which is about to be tested during the action of this novel.

Gill's intensely realized descriptions--of the abuse of a Traveler by the Tod, of an addict in need of a fix, and of a teenager trying to fit in at a dance, for example--make his scenes come alive, while his understanding of the vagaries of police procedure gives a sense of reality to his less than perfect detectives. McGarr is a strong and caring main character whose sense of justice and honor are paramount (even if it means bending the rules), while his well developed cast of likable and amusing subordinates, who continue to grow in successive novels, provides the reader with long-term rewards throughout the series. Mary Whipple

More a tale of action than a mystery, this book is still a great read because of Gill's understanding of the various Irish characters he creates: the blowhard Dublin good old boy cop, the lazy lout from Belfast, the hardworking upright Dub detective, and the real stars of this book- the Travellers, as they prefer to be called. Gill tells a good yarn and gives us some honest insights into this misunderstood, generally disliked part of Irish society. His ear for dialogue and translating the accents is spot on. A pint for ye, Bartholomew!

This book did not have its usual satisfying trappings of character development among McGarr and his staff, nor was there any of the procedural/deduction angle that makes this series so enjoyable. It was heavier on the action (very good at it, too) and there was an interesting emphasis on the Irish Tinker (Gypsy) culture. A very entertaining read but you'll get more out of it if you read some of the other McGarrs before you read this.

Note to Gill, nee, McGarrity: Don't leave us hanging on the Ruthie/Hughie angle! You've got to issue another book in this series!

When the corpse of a retired British civil servant found on a remote Irish farm turns out to actually have been a retired head of Britain's Secret Intelligence Services, and when a second murder victim turns up on the same remote Irish farm and is also found to have been yet another former head of the same agency, Inspector Peter McGarr has more than a mere coincidence on his hands. He finds himself following a trail of spies and assassins from Britain to Italy in search of the truth.

McGarr believes that Britain's new Amabassador to Italy (the current head of the same Secret Service), and his beautiful Italian wife, may be the next in line for an assasin's bullet.

Originally published in the mid-seventies, this Peter McGarr mystery focuses on risky and lucrative North Sea oil exploration as well as Italy's volatile mix of politics and passion. Set against the backdrop of Siena and its festive Palio (an ancient horse-race run through the streets), McGarr and the Siense Conspiracy is certainly one of the most exotically-located of this very Irish flavored series.

Somewhat dated in that not all of the characters are exactly politically correct in their speech, this is still a very entertaining and somewhat exciting entry in the series. The feel of this novel is more that of a cold war spy thriller than the usual police procedural.

An excellent work Peter Gill pulls few punches in his look at the role of MI5 the British Security Service.

An account that is never dull it brings together anecdotal and factual accounts of MI5 activity that breach the authors ideas of what a democratically accountable British Security Service should look and act like. Seeking to contrast the 1989 Security Service Act with its opposite Statutes in; Canada, Australia and the USA Mr Gill makes a powerful case for more openness in MI5 activity.

His delineation of the Gore-tex state (or should that be Gannex Peter)and subsequent recommendations make for a powerful argument. A recommended text for both undergraduate students and amateur buffs alike.

MR P. Gill teachs Criminology at the John Moore's University in Liverpool England.

This is the first comprehensive whale watching guidebook to come out of Australia (other than the earlier work by Ross Isacc). There is an introduction to whale and dolphin biology, evolution, etc. plus some historical whaling facts and also a chapter on whale and dolphin watching both from land and from cruises. The best part of the book would be its excellent coverage of whale watching spots in and around Australia and New Zealand and the fantastics pics. The thing I did not like about this book was its actual style of writing. I rather read something that was written in the style used in Discovery Travels series where they write in the way that allows you to really picture the place in your head. Overall, still the best whale watching guidebook for Oceania.

Peter McGarr is new to me, but this is the 14th installment of Gill's police procedural series. Investigating the murder of two cops found "en flagrante," McGarr finds himself involved with IRA related, eel-poaching criminals on the Shannon River. While neither of those topics is high on my "to read" list, Gill's interesting facts on the life cycle of eels would have created more reader interest if they had been presented earlier in the book. It is pretty apparent that some of the clues are red herrings, but the finger of guilt points to just about everybody in the village, changing with every new bit of evidence or hearsay. Therefore, Gill could have named the murderer at any point. His last chapter is a satisfying wrap-up of the murder, but many of the other story-points in the book are left unattended, like flotsam on the Shannon.

Another winner in the Peter McGarr series, which were written by American author, Mark McGarrity, until his untimely death last summer. The characters are well rounded, never stereotyped, and the endings never easy to predict.
There are enough false leads to keep you guesing until the end. As always we get a picture of Ireland, from the small town gossips to the dark underbelly of the criminal world. McGarr and his cohorts are interesting characters despite their all too human frailties. In a country where murders are refreshingly rare, McGarr keeps busy solving all that come his way. This book is a good read.

Bartholomew Gill is an Irish writer of intriguing police procedurals which blend hard realism with romantic story-telling, set always in very confined settings, full of local color and local characters. The intricacies of eel-fishing on the River Shannon, and eel-poaching by IRA sympathizers, who sell the eels at high prices to finance IRA activity, are the offbeat sources of the realism and romance here.

When two members of the "eel-police" are found shot to death in bed, in what appears to be a slaying by a jealous husband, Detective Superintendent Peter McGarr and his motley assistants from Dublin are called in. As they investigate the killings in the seemingly idyllic town of Leixleap, the reader is exposed to the slippery underbelly of small town Irish life--the petty jealousies, the abusive liaisons, the manipulations of those clever enough to play "the system," the limited expectations of the young women, and the ties that bind everyone to a beautiful village which has few legitimate opportunities.

Ultimately, it's the characters which make the novel come truly alive. McGarr, his family, and his assistants are colorfully drawn, all with unique characteristics which make them memorable. His psychological acuity makes their behavior plausible, and the limited setting provides for much interaction among them and the townspeople. These interactions, not outside sources, lead to the complications which enliven the plot. Gill alternates pathos and humor to moderate the most violent scenes, and his depiction of a child caught unwittingly in the turmoil is especially affecting. This is an absorbing mystery and a welcome change of pace from urban thrillers--no less violent, but perhaps more affecting because its world is so small and its characters, so chummy.

Strikingly different in tone from all the other Peter McGarr mysteries, this novel may have been a Gill experiment in the blackest of black humor. It's a curiosity in the McGarr series, a wicked piece of work with some truly disgusting scenes, perhaps an attempt to mock the pseudo-realism of other mysteries and/or film, or, more likely, an attempt to imitate the dark satire of Jonathan Swift, whose work is featured throughout this novel about the murder of a man who regarded himself as the Dean's reincarnation.

In the opening scene McGarr arrives at the estate of B.H.P. Herrick, the keeper of Marsh's Library of antique manuscripts in Dublin, finding find him nude and six days dead. With a sort of ghoulish glee, Gill describes the macabre scene in minute detail, omitting none of the putrescent details. Herrick was in the midst of a Frollick, "inspired by Swift," a lurid carnal escapade in which Herrick quoted lines from Swift and which he videotaped, unwittingly recording his own agonizing death from poison.

I concede that the book is clever, in that it incorporates some serious literary criticism about Swift's work, some of it obscure, in addition to discussions of Gulliver, the Brobdingnagians, the Yahoos, and the Houyhnhnms, and it does illustrate how the main character surrounded himself with the modern incarnations of these Swiftian creatures. However, Gill's additional remarks about "excremental verse" and the Freudians, along with additional scenes of degradation, keep this grim and grisly little novel firmly mired in depths most readers do not expect of this series and will not want to explore. 1 star for subject matter, 2 stars for cleverness.

I read this book of Bartholomew Gill's without making reference to the reviews on this page. I am glad I did. Unlike the one review to be found here, I found this book to be great fun. What I find to be the strongest feature of Gill's writing is the way he presents his regular cast of characters. I really care about all of them a great deal. So while the mystery is fun, what really matters is to watch these characters in their interplay with each other and with the possible killers. The deceased deserved his untimely death and it does not really matter so much how he died. I was glad to see him gone. But the solving of the mystery and how that solution impacts of Peter McGarr and his co-workers is great fun. I have come late to the works of Bartholomew Gill and am going through them one at a time. "Death of a Joyce Scholar" is the one that I recommend to people the most so far, but "Ardent Bibiophile" will now be on this list. If you like Gill, this one will definitely not disappoint.

If this statement by Paddy Power were true, this novel would be one of Gill's most energetic, filled as it is with financial complications involving the Irish economy, political graft and corruption, and the get-rich-quick hopes of numerous investors in Paddy Powers's commercial bank. A much admired financier/philanthropist, Paddy has been working on a plan for a debt-for-equity swap involving the Irish national debt and a Japanese investor, and someone finds this so threatening that s/he tinkers with Paddy's heart medication and kills him.

Political intrigue at the highest levels, intraparty politics and resentments, and the northern branch of the IRA all play a part in the action here and add to the intricate financial maneuvering. Unfortunately, however, they also lead to a somewhat "talky" novel, as Gill is forced to explain technicalities to his reader. Most of the personal interactions and intrigue here involve the politicians and their wives, lovers, and families, rather than McGarr and his detectives from the Garda Siochana, and I missed the focus on those characters which made Death of a Joyce Scholar and Death of an Irish Sinner (the novel after this one) so satisfying.

Sneem, a "Tidy Town" in Kerry, which is the site of Paddy's murder, is very lively here, with quirky characters, culchies, and locals with long memories, but the banter and teasing which so characterize the series as a whole are less prominent here. The relationship between Ruthie Bresnahan and Hugh Ward, a highlight of the previous novel, Death of a a Joyce Scholar, is not a factor, with Ward acting undercover as a bartender and Ruthie, on her "home turf," using her connections in the community to help McGarr solve the murder. With numerous subplots and red herrings, along with complex financial and political dealings, Gill tackles big subjects with his usual gusto, and his conclusion explodes in fireworks, torture, mayhem, and an incredible body count. Tighter plotting and fewer side issues might have made this novel more powerful, but even when Gill is not at his best, he's still better than most!

I read Death of a Joyce Scholar last week. This week I am reading the Death Of Love. No, I am not dissappointed. In fact, it is an engaging read. It is nice to see the characters grow from the previous story. It is also nice to see these Irish law enforcers engage in some more covert operations as opposed to their usual brand of detection found in the other works. And the writing is just as solid as ever. Check it out.

This book, and the conference organised by the Chung-Hua Institution for Economic Research on which it is based, asks a question which is fundamental to Asia's future: how did Taiwan ride out the 1997 financial storm when Thailand, Indonesia, and Malaysia were almost capsized by the wave?
Several essays in the book note that small and mid-sized firms make up nine-tenths of Taiwan's economy, with equity financing being the norm rather than debt financing. This meant that there was far less opportunity for speculative funds to sweep into and out of the economy, and also meant that the business sector was much more stable than in some of Taiwan's neighbours.
The capital sector was also strong, with a minimum of exchange rate controls and most financial institutions in private rather than government hands. When the crash came, non-performing loans accounted for less than five per cent of credits, compared to 16 per cent in Malaysia and 19 per cent in Thailand. Taiwan's financial institutions had also been markedly more successful at mobilising private capital and channelling it into productive investments than its neighbours.
At the macroeconomic level, Taiwan's performance had been solid, with growth at over five per cent and a current account surplus of about 4.5 per cent of GDP. Not spectacular, but the point is that Taiwan had been turning in good results for a substantial period, rather than looking like an overheated economy heading for a fall.
In spite of Taiwan's sturdy foundations, the meltdown still had a punch. There was a 15 per cent currency depreciation in 1997-98 and a steep drop in the stock market. But this did not translate into an economic free-fall, mainly due to decisive action by the Central Bank. It stabilised the exchange rate with sales of foreign reserves and then, crucially, let the domestic currency float. In 1999, the Central Bank buttressed its success by promoting growth with low interest rates and new investments. Credibility was a key asset, with the Central Bank being widely seen as prudent and competent, run by technocrats rather than political cronies.
In some ways, the retreat of government may have gone a little too far: several contributors to the book note that Taiwan might have fared even better if the Central Bank had had a wider range of monetary instruments to use. But the bottom line for Taiwan remains: a solid base and a swift response meant that the '97 storm was mostly distant thunder.

Weathering the Storm sets its points with admirable clarity, but there are subjects which are not covered. The underlying issues of macroeconomic/currency policy are hardly touched, and there are comparisons (such as with South Korea) on which there is insufficient depth. Perhaps these issues were discussed in the conference, but they are not in the book.

As with many conference volumes, the quality of papers collected in this book varies. Some (Frank Flatters on Thailand, for example) are informative, some less so. None of the papers considers the financial crisis as a regional or systemic crisis -- instead the focus is on country by country analyses. Oddly enough, none of the papers on Taiwan deal with its decision in the fall of 1997 to devalue its currency, the New Taiwan dollar, which arguably intensified the crisis, at least with respect to Hong Kong and South Korea. One can find some interesting material in these essays, but one will have to look elsewhere for an in depth analysis of the Asian financial crisis, even with respect to Taiwan.